The Saturday Evening Post 1926-11-06: Vol 199 Iss 19

Page 1

HE —~ ST “aPOST Volume 199, Number 19 AR Oo, Pe honts f , Austin Parker—Richard Matthews Hallet—Leonard H. Nason-Sam Hellman F. Britten Austin—James W. Bellah-—Chester T. Crowell—Octavus Roy Cohen

Page 2

CAN} = Nov.10~20 ‘Remember~ the one certain way to get Highest Quality in canned foods st ~be sure you say Dome DEL MONT \e avait ‘ ITY =: - NALION MUSCAT GI D FOODS WEEK | “xe DEL MONTE é yw?

ues YELLOW CLING PEACKES FRUITS ron SALAD Nel Monte) } ating ae | ~~ | ’ ' ' ; > ar YELLOW CLING PEACHES —_ — a LS —_ et Monte) ; * * orsTuseo h VINEGAR she see TOMATOES ), € - ~S al Onder ent —— == STRING BEANS § PORK™: BEANS

by the “Nol Monte \eauaiiry y Sy? ROYAL ANNE CHERRIES ————___ os Vel Monte ae yy QUALITY Nee oS REO ee i ig , 5 APRICOTS o. —_“y ne (ermond) [Monte § Say’ = DRI-PAK PRUNES e D . — i hie Tae a — *\eany" KA TOMATO. SAUCE P C—Twaee : g¥ : ASPARAGUS TIPS P _ FORCOOKINGUSES “3 : —— Pa

| C3 CHERRIES me 6 FO PimieNTOS >) o'25cs. re Wit-re wy eo

ee PREPARED PRUN oF ov TO Serv > -HOMINY — (“el Monte) , = QUALITY sh - 4 . , + ; ey ‘SPapAcus TIPS ‘qe SPARAGUS TIPS i Tel Monte QUALITY y ‘ .... en 4, WHOLE BEETS} SOCKEYE SALMON Jem onle, (2 DE LUXE PLUMS Getmonts) Ss.

._ —— ~ PINEAPP ° “~~~ "08 SALAS awD ERUITCOCKTANS

FANCY CORN i ' aetuMonte | dozen cans~for convenience

Page 3

ide on Company 40 Rector St.. New York City o ” °) Q, Oo z ~~ 2 & > & ~ & Q & ~ rw & 7) 9] x i The kind of roads you like for

Page 4

November 6, 1926 ‘To men who breakfast on nails / ment, registering virtue and loving-kindness. Nails HIS gentleman's before-breakfast temper, result- ing from baths with sinker-soap, wsed to give his wife the impression that his favorite breakfast menu would be a rasher of crisp nails and a couple of hard- boiled padlocks on toast. The temper would develop by stages. No sooner would our optimist exert his first strenuous effort at lather-culture than the shy here-and-there soap would flee his grasp and scuttle to the vast uncharted tub- bottom, defying recapture. Once, twice, thrice!—and the temper would achieve its white-hot, metal-melt- ing stage. Now notice the change. How beneficent the smile! How charmingly effective the neat little wing arrange- IVORY SOAP 99'Y.. % PURE - and padlocks are no longer on our gentleman's menu the matched only by the engaging softness of his three- grace of his company at breakfast is now minute eggs. This magic was achieved by wifely intelligence co- operating with a cake of the rich-lathering, quick- rinsing white soap that floats. Men who have changed to this soap for their morning baths tell us that they never knew before what a jubilant luxury bathing could be. at the grocery or in the tub. Don't let a sinker-soap stand You can always find Ivory when you want it— any longer between you and an Ivory bath! PROCTER & GAMBLE IT FLOATS L O' IR Department of Feminine Economics re mends especta ly to wives: A cake of daint new round-edgeed Guest Ivory for the saving pri Why not be extravagant, and buy 3 -

Page 5

} Published Week)» | The Curtis Publishing Company Cyrus H. KA. Curtis, President C. H. Ludington, Vice-President and Treasurer P. S. Collins, General Business Manager Walter D. Fuller, Secretory William Boyd, Advertising Director Independence Square, Philadelphia London: 6, Henrietta Street Covent Garden, W.C Copyright, 1926, by The Curtis Publishing Cor ‘ P Patent Office and in Foreign Countries. Entered as Sex nth « ond -€

Matter the

Volume 199 5c. THE PHILADELPHIA, PA., NOVEMBER 6, 1926 George Horace Lorimer THE SATURDAY to a picture-reading pub r swimming the Channel, If you can't get into the papers, never did get in, ar i are about losing hope of having anything get in, why—here is the greatest tip to ambitious amateur literary careers— write mething or Russia and you will replace some re Russia is the biggest Country in the World, and me write authorative opinions on it ar writer that day. n and Wom 1 a bird’s-

that coul eye view of the Principality of Monaco, and you can take a handful of green apples and stand onal in Monaco. It has always been a source

ill and hit everybody of wonder to me that Patrica Ziegfeld, Baby Peggy, Paulina Longworth or Nick Altrock have never written a book on Russia. Some Congressmen come ov to Paris to investigate the Cafés, have four cocktails and Russian caviar sandwich—which they dident like, but the rest was doing it—go back home and tell of the nd n as it don't enjoye exists today in Russia Russia has one peculiarity that I think any i—that is, that ever female gender that come t of there i Prine nd the lowest form of a title in the way aped male is

Page 6

THE SATURDAY EVENING nh SS So NE POST nn \teyee Nia tenet November 6, 1926 And They Had Never Pulled the String on Even a Jumping Jack Before a Duke, and if he escaped very fast he is a Grand Duke. From the amount of Titles out of there, one would gather right away that the sole purpose of the Revolution, pro- posed and carried out, was not to assist the downtrodden, as is generally supposed, but to promote foreign travel among the Princesses and Dukes. Escaped statistics show that among males, 72 per cent were Grand Dukes and the other 28 per cent just Dukes. Women were all 100 per cent Princesses. You spend half your time in Paris listening to some exiled American telling you hard-luck stories about former Russian nobility. ‘‘The fellow who just opened the Taxi door in front of this Amer- ican Rat Trap you are now in was a Grand Duke and brother, just two Revolutions removed from the Czar.” They are all kin to the Czar. ‘‘The Girl you mortgaged your hat too as you come in was the Czarina’s principal Lady in waiting’’; also related to the family. The buss boy—he is the fellow they use so the waiter will have some- body to lay the blame on—was a Duke, and he would have been Grand if the thing had lasted. In fact you are ina nest of royal relatives. Telephone girls were Princesses, Taxi drivers used to be Dukes—all, as I say, related to the Czar. Any man with that many kinfolks, no wonder something happened to him. I bet if the truth was found out, he or- ganized his own death personally. If I had some of the kinfolks he was supposed to have had I would have hired assassins to exterminate me very early in life. They tell of one fellow that was very, very near the Czar—perhaps a twin. Well, heis selling Peanuts on thestreet. We tried to find him, not because I was interested in his case, but I wanted some Peanuts. I have yet to hear of one that was doing well. Yet they bother you for hours, telling you how polished and highly educated and cultured they were. They seem to know what temperature to drink their wine at, but most of them don’t know how to make a dollar to buy the wine. Now if that is all any of them can do, how was it they thought they could run a tremendous country like Russia? A fellow will seek his level, I don’t care where you are. If pening Taxi doors in front of Vodka Joints and helping a waiter break dishes is as high as their ability will carry them in eight years, it shows they should have been doing it all the time. All those good years they had in Russia was not due to any of their own efforts. You know yourself, Mr. President, if the present Repub- lican, or Bourgeois—remember pronunciation— régime was thrown over, and you were all banished from the District of Columbia, none of you are going to open any Taxicab doors for anybody but yourselves. You might not get into anything as big as the White House or Czar’s Palace, but you will have one big enough that the help problem will bother you. Even the Congressmen may not be able to plant their own Gardens with Government seed and mail letters for nothing. Yet you won’t see any of them have to resort to peddling goobers on anybody’s street. They can even pull the Cabinet Chairs out from under that band of accomplices who plot with you once a week; they will hit the floor, but they will come back up out of it with nothing hurt but their political pride. They can always dig up enough for the next Campaign fund. Of course, at times you-all may wish, like the deposed Russian Noblemen, for the old régime back, and mull over the good old days when you-all used to sit around the old White House hearth and laughingly discuss the League of Nations and Philippine Independance; but you will always be able to seek your level. Revolution, in the way of Democrats uprising and buying enough votes to depose you, might be sorter disconcerting for the time being; but you never would have to worry about where those Flap- jacks and Maple sirup was coming from. Now I may be hard-hearted, but I just couldent seem to work myself up into any great frenzy of tears over the old Dukes and Princesses. They carry a lot of long, high- sounding names, but mighty little sympathy. They can converse in a lot of languages, but they’re not strong on making a living in any of them. They have spent a lifetime trying to learn how to dance in a Ballroom, but they have never learned it good enough to get paid for it. The old American is there with the uncouthness, but he never comes in on a pass. His rudeness is unintentional and not studied. I bet you if I had met a Russian in Paris and he had said, “T was a poor Peasant in Russia before the War; I never had anything in my life; I always had to work very hard; I never in all my life even saw the Czar; I had no culture, either then or now, no refinement, no education; I was just struggling along’’—say, I could have taken that kind of a Russian out in Paris and told them about him and col- lected him a million Frances. People would have gone crazy over him, he would have been such a novelty. Of course there is no such one. If there was he is perhaps President of a Bank in Paris, or else he is perhaps Premier a day or so every once in a while. No, Sir; the poor ability of many of the Russians that come out of there has really been more of a boost for the Revolution than any other one thing. Well, when I saw they were not going to quit writing about Russia, why, I am going to get busy and write you the most novel thing on Russia that was ever written. I have had a research made, and there has never been an Article on Russia that tells you what I am going to tell you, and there has been more ink wasted on Russia and Pro- hibition than any other two subjects in the world, both equally unsettleable. Now here is the novelty and truth of my letter on Russia: I am the only person that ever wrote on Russia that admits he don’t know a thing about it. And on the other hand, I know just as much about Rus- sia as anybody that ever wrote about it. Nobody knows anything about Russia. I have read dozens of books and hundreds of Articles by various people, such as ‘“‘The Real Russia, by one who spent five years in a Moscow jail”; ‘“‘My ten years ban- ishment in Siberia, by a real Russian’; ‘‘The Heart of Russia”; ‘‘Russia as I know it, by a House Detective”’; and millions of others. Now how is anybody going to find anything out about Russia by spending five years in a Moscow jail? Or ten years in Siberia wouldent give you any too good a line on the financial or economic future of the Empire. Now just stop and think a minute. Suppose somebody come to you tomorrow and said, ‘‘ Tell us about America.” Now how could you tell ’em about America, in an Article, a Book, or a dozen volumes, or a thousand volumes? It’s too big; nobody could tell about it. Suppose somebody tried to write on The Heart of America. Why, Lord, we can’t even keep track of the toe of Maine or the heel of California, much less the heart! Now if nobody could write you a composite Article on America, how are they going to do it on Russia, a country that is so much bigger than us that we would rattle around in it like an idea in Congress? I have even read all I could find that Lenine and Trotzky said about Russia, and it don’t give me any better idea than Mutt and Jeff. Just get this size and composition of Russia and her people and see how anybody could tell you anything about Russia: It’s the largest continuous domain in the World; it covers nearly one-sixth of the total surface of the earth; there is over one hundred different Nationalities live inside the Soviet Union. Get the statistics of these nationalities; it reads like a New York Telephone Directory—70,000,000 great Russians; 3,000,000 Jews in the western part of the Union; 1,000,000 Germans on the Volga; 500,000 Greeks along the northern coast of the Black Sea; Moldavians, Bessarabians, Georgians; 500,000 Armenians; 1,000,000 Persians; Ossentines, Ingushes, Circassians, Abkhasians, Checkenians. Why, there is 5,000,000 Tartars! Boy, what a sauce that is alone! And eighty other races that even the census man hasent got to yet. Continued on Page 229) s —————

Page 7

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST nounced, a tow mnts OY Pramk Parker Stockbridge _ ‘ins isc tig inisra! ago, that the Brotherhood cerns to the promotion and develo; of Locomotive Engineers had sold ment of Florida subdivisions. The to a syndicate headed by some of the Vanderbilt family the the time this is printed, but any change will be to enlarge workers are lending money to the employers nuing controlling interest in the $40,000,000 Equitable Building them. New labor banks are being projected and organized in millions. They have started something. T lest at 120 Broadway, New York, a great many newspaper at the rate of dozens a year; I was told in one place of is: What? readers rubbed their eyes and read the paragraph over to fifty which are expected to be in operation before the end Prof. Thomas Nixon Carver of Harvard calls it an e be sure they had it right. Being assured that it was not of 1927. The whole movement is less than six years old, nomic revolution. Certainly it is a demonstration that an optical illusion, that a labor organization was actually most of the institutions less than three. Only a small the late Warren S. Stone, Grand Chief Engineer of the the vender in this important transaction in real estate,the portion of the organized workers of the United States Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers and father of the comment of the conservative-minded took the generalform and Canada are as yet participants in the new capitalism, movement, wasright when he said that ‘the saving power of of a shocked inquiry as to what the world was coming to. probably fewer than 10 per cent of the important labor the American workingmen isso great that, if they would save The inquiry is a pertinent one. The purchase of the groups included in the membership of the American and carefully invest their savings, in ten years they could majority shares of the Equitable Building by the Brother- Federation of Labor, the railroad brotherhoods and the _ be one of the dominating financial powers of t! hood and their resale at a profit of close to $1,000,000 is but Amalgamated Clothing Workers. Yet they are already op- There is not much nourishment for the agitator and the one manifestation, and that not the most important, of a erating in the field of big business with somewhere around demagogue, whose stock in trade is the assertion that t new order of things. It was but one transaction out of $250,000,000 of capital, operating successfully, making rich are getting richer while the poor are getting poorer, in many in which labor is today playing the part which has _ money collectively and individually, converting their the phenomenon presented by labor's investment activ been regarded as the exclusive province of capital, in the constituencies into investors, and through their collective ties. That the workers have any surplus whatever to minds of those who classify all humanity into the Haves investing power sitting at the table with capital in its vest is in itself a proof of prosperity. Professor Carver and the Have-nots. These are transactions made possible most concentrated forms and finding capital not only not predicts that this surplus will grow until labor in the broad e worid i by labor’s advent into the realm of high finance, entry to aloof but genuinely friendly. sense will become the chief source of industrial capital, which has in turn been made possible by the pooling of This trifling fraction of the nation’s wage earners is en- dictating the financing of business as it now, by reason of labor’s surplus—savings out of wages after the cost of gaged in every form of investment activity known to its preponderant purchasing power, dictates what industry living has been covered—in labor’s own banks, trust com- Continued on Page 214 panies and investment corporations. As I write this there are in operation in the United States thirty-seven labor banks, with resources ranging individ- ' am ually from $200,000 to nearly $27,000,000 and aggregating AMERICA HAS Yay HAVE more than $120,000,000. There are eleven investment cor- NO LITERATURE yy uraRT ! porations entirely owned and controlled by organized labor, vrs ARE N with aggregate paid-in capital of $34,000,000. Besides that i MERICANS ‘ RE ¢ | pool of more than $150,000,000, which labor absolutely Aci Mont Map! “ oan ~ controls, there are banking resources of more than $100,- : HAVE MONEY 4 000,000 in the investment of which labor has a not incon- ni : ne Cr ppERS siderable say. Those figures may be materially changed by No Mel ' ATION’ HAVE NO NO APPREC! ‘RT, NO TASTE No JPEALS. AMERICA It wee J ¢ 4 FE POLLAR } CHASERS, You HAYE NO SENTIMENT. ~ DOLLAR CHASING

Page 8

8 THE y SATURDAY EVENING POST By AUSTIN PARKER ILLUSTRATED BY November 6, 1926 JAMES HH. CRANK HE coming of age of Ann Paton—the Four- Million-Dollar Baby was a disappointingly tame affair. Nooneseemed to know exactly what was expected to happen on the momentous oceasion of her receiving full custody of the fortune left by her father when she was less than a year old, but nothing atailhappened. That was the trouble. The Crest, her big, graciously proportioned house, still gazed down amia- bly upon Greenbrook and the lake. No suddenly released energy blew it to smithereens. Ann, the social dynamite of Greenbrook’s summer colony, spent most of her birthday afternoon teaching a refrac- tory polo pony to like the game; she had tea at the club, — where she demanded of the matrons assembled if one hun- dred and twenty-five dollars a week wasn't too devilish much of a meat bill, and dis- covered that it wasn't, since he fed an army of guests and another army of servants. That night Ann gave a dinner party from which everyone managed to get home without an undignified amount of as- sistance. It was distinctly dis- appointing. The next morning one of her hunters faltered at a jump, took a spill and Ann’s collar bonesnapped. Thatwassome- thing— better than nothing at all. It showed, at least, that Ann was not too heavily bur- dened by her one-and-twenty. Last summer in 4 point-to- point race a hoofful of flying turf caught her upon the eye, and for the better part of a month she moved and had her being in fashionable Green- brook, wearing, quite un- ashamedly, a commor shiner. And the summer before that—ah, well! Annwas Ann; and, from all indications, was going to continue being Ann indefinitely. “Ship’s ready.” ‘Get her turning over. I'll be right out.”” AndrewTerrey, chief pilot of the M. P. T. Aircraft Corporation, plunged back into higher mathematics, landing gear, turn over in a cartwheel and smack her up- side down. That’d be spectac- ular.” “T’d just as soon you wouldn’t kill yourself.”” Mor- rison was one of the early men in the game and he had seen too many good pilots come and go to be light-hearted when it came to crashes. “No fear! Sure, I'll give ’em a wreck!” “There ought to be a thou- sand in it for you.” Andy’s mind, which had been laboring over the prob- lem of a turbine engine for aeroplanes ever since he had come to the Umpty works, spent the thousand dollars in a fraction of a second. It all went to build the turbine. “Lead me to it! I’d crack that cursed Eleven up just for the fun of it. I’d just as soon fly the kitchen sink as that crate.”” He glanced at his wrist watch. “I’d better be barg- ing along. Keep the fire burn- ing under those movie people, George. So long.” “So long. Give ’em a good show.” Morrison remained at the window, puffing deeply at his pipe, and watched the Hornet take off. ‘‘ Knows how to han- dle that bus,” he said to himself as Andy took the plane skyward in a series of prodi- gious leaps. Certainly a better pilot had never worked on the Umpty field than Andy Torrey; and Morrison could feel, without flattering himself and the works of his own design too greatly, that no pilot had ever had a better plane to fly. As a two-seater combat plane it could not be equaled in Europe or America for speed, climb and maneuverability. With Andy at the controls and Ben- son, his mechanic, at the ma- chine guns in the after cockpit, there wasn’t much that could touch it. He had chosen Andy forthe job of chief pilot after Tomil son, who had been the T of the corporate title, M. P. T., was killed by flying into a mountainside in afog. From their first interview he had juggled a slide rule for a few minutes and scowled at the result. The sputtering roar of the Umpty Hornet’s motor reached his ears and regretfully he shoved his computations into a drawer, took up his flying gear and left the office. George Morrison, the president of the Umpty company, came to the window and perched upon the sill. “Shoving ( ff, A ndy fate ‘Yep. I'll be back about seven.” “How goes the turbine?” Well enough. But I'd like to get my mitts on a couple of thousand dollars. It’s going to cost all of that. It'll be nearer five thousand, probably, before I have anything to how.” He paused upon the gravel walk, drew on his helmet and goggles, climbed into a faded flying jumper. Morrison emitted several blue clouds of pipe smoke. Maybe I wouldn't like to get hold of a few thousand myself,” he said. ‘‘ Well, if the Army takes the Hornet and orders a couple of I undred we "ll be busy enougt r Ann Wasn't Watching; She Was Marching, Stiff With Rage, Into the Woods “The Army,” observed Andy, “moves slowly its won- ders to perform. I was in it, don’t forget.” The Hornet’s engine cut loose in a full-throated roar, and a cloud of brown dust, driven by the propeller in great whirls, mounted in the air. Both men listened to it si- lently, heads a little cocked, eyes far away. “‘Anyhow,” continued Torrey as the thunder subsided to a purr, ‘I'd like to get enough money salted down so that I could begin experimental work.” “There’s one job that may come up before long,”” Mor- rison announced. “It’s a movie stunt. They want to get a good shot of a wreck. What do you think?” “There are a couple of ships on this field I’d love to wreck,”’ responded the younger man feelingly. ‘‘That rebuilt Eleven, for example. Any money in it?” “Ought to be.”’ Andy ran his finger thoughtfully under the chin strap of his helmet. “I could spin her clean in, wash out the liked Andy immensely — his sober face, which was a little too lean for conventional handsomeness, his cool, grayish-green eyes and his straight, unemotional mouth seemed to be parts of a com- posite picture of a thoroughly good pilot. Not that Morrison selected his pilots on their bench points. He went to a good deal of trouble in looking up Andy’s record Andy began his aeronautical career at the age of fifteer by building a glider which he smashed after several suc cessful excursions. The chief result of that was a news paper story about the boy aeronaut which served him as a sort of passport into flying circles. In those days, befor« the war, flying was a wildcat venture. Andy dispensed with home life, which was none too agreeable, as his mother and father—his father had been a minister—were dead and he lived with his uncle, and attached himself to Art Blinker, one of the first pilots to do a loop in America. Art was killed at Denver when the flimsy plane he had tormented through the skies for months lost its wings. By that time Andy was piloting. From the aeronautical junk

Page 9

piled in Art’s barn in Ohio he managed to fit out a plane. Mrs. Blinker helped him financially and took a share of the proceeds when he made a tour of Middle Western county fairs as Andy Torrey, the Daredevil Boy Pilot. Ambition was stirring within him and he entered col- lege, where he got some of the basic knowledge of engineer- ing. But war, with benevolent governments providing all the aeroplanes that a pilot in his wildest dreams of fortune could want, was too strong a lure. He enlisted in Canada, went to England and, to his disgust, was assigned to in- struction duty. Eventually, after a brief but brilliant two months at the front, he was transferred to the Amer- ican Army, with the rank of captain, at the age of twenty. He remained in the service for two years after the war and then returned to college, still intent upon engineering. But the flying bug had bitten too deeply; he turned out an aeronautical engineer, and, as Andy himself put it, “considerably more aeronautical than engineer.””’ The blast of the propeller, the scratch of stay wires cutting through the air, the throbbing song of a motor were too much a part of life to be put aside, and Andy, with a prayer in his heart, applied for the job of chief Umpty pilot. It was his work to test and demonstrate all the planes turned out by the Umpty factory, to fly Umpties wherever and whenever people needed planes, to give flight instruc- tion, supervise the hangars and all repair work, carry spare parts and a mechanic to Umpties in distress, act as a sales- man of Umpties and to be George Morrison’s assistant engineer. The former assistant, Patterson—the original P of M. P. T.—had fallen ill and resigned long before Andy joined the company. Aside from those duties he was free to work upon his own invention, the aero-turbine, and to act as test pilot for independent designers. With his mind full of the complexities of the aero-turbine, Andy automatically selected Greenbrook from the huge green map of the world beneath him and swung the Hornet into the track inclosure of the fairgrounds. They taxied up before the empty grand stand. Andy stood up and stretched long arms and legs. Benson, the mechanic, occupying the rear seat, pushed back goggles and gave the grounds a slowly appraising glance. His mouth twisted in disapproval. “Don't look like much of a fair to me, cap tain,’’ he re marked. “What's the idea of us be ing here?”’ “It’s a charity shindig.’’ He slipped to the ground and peeled off his jumper. ‘Quite a social event Horse show, dog show, racing and such stuff. In- fluential people Some politicians Morrison wants THE SATURDAY EVENING POST to show off the Hornet Stand by the bus I'll hunt up the bird who's running the show.” From the scattering of people approaching the plane he saw Mike Furley emerge at a a jog trot. Mike, an- other mechanic, had been sent by train with their equipment. “Hello, Mike. E erything all set?” Y- “Yep. I think you go on after the second race. I’ll be loading the guns. You're go- ing to shove off to- night, aren’t you?”’ ‘‘Just as soon as we're “Under the grand stand. He’s over to the kennels. > through. Where's the office?”’ “Why?” he asked. “Did you want to go uy 3ut the works isn’t there Name’s Kramer.” been.” Are y b euDt yer aske ¥ ‘ 4 + ' f Wi 4 y larh ‘ for ; , x A ‘ ed at ea n the fe ging i. She wa pretty; but, more t er face } 4 g humor isexpression. Ne ither broad mout ere cent-sh aped smile, the ends of her lipsreac} ng toward the two peaks of dark hair that curved down before her ears. Her eyes, wher she smiled, had a way of half closing It Was the Best Escape She and shir ng bright y behind a screer Knew From Guests—Change ; : . heavy lashes Andy smiled to Into Riding Clothes and 4 - ‘I’m afraid 1 won’t have time Part of her smile Canter Into a Woritd That Was Entirely Her Own though a light had been dimmex “Very much!” she answered earnestly, “I never ve Continued on Page 76 “They're Giving Me the Interval Between the Second and Third Races, Extending it for Perhaps Some Other Time" and That's All. Me,"’ He Explained “I'll Have Just Time Enough for My Stunts

Page 10

8 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘ Beyond a Reasonalle By Richard Matthews Mallet ILEUS TRATE DO yp w. H. D. T WAS not a week after her mar- riage to Homer Wilkes that Allie Sorensen—that had been her maiden name— caught a glimpse of Captain George Foster in Waldron’s grocery. Her He was standing out among the heart stood still. sugar barrels with a pipe in his gloomy mouth. He had seen her, she was certain, yet he had made not the faintest movement of recog- nition. ‘‘How about these?” Homer Wilkes was saying tc her, holding out a big yellow grapefruit in either freckled hand, “They ought to do,” she said rapidly. “Lady says they will do,”’ Homer Wilkes laughed. He swept a lock of his red hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand, picked up his other purchases, piling them against him without allowing her to take a single one, and held the door back with his heel while his wife passed through. Her cornflower-blue eyes were suddenly fixed on vacancy. George had come at last, when it was too late; but even now he wouldn’t recog- nize her. She went over, for he thousandth time, the series of mischances that had got her into this pre dicament. First her sense- less quarrel with Captain Foster in that coast village ninety miles or more to the eastward. She had repented of her share in that, and had come here to the Inlet, thinking that he would be sure to turn up sooner or later at his native place. And he had not turned up till now, when she found herself married to another man and committed to a destiny which George Fos- ter least of all men was likely to share. Walking by her hus- band’s side, she reviewed the facts which had brought K OERWNER November 6, 1926 Doulot and sometimes his great laugh would echo and reécho in that narrow space. He was personable, she admitted; he had his qualities; but then he was one of the bad Wilkeses. Every town of the Inlet’s popula- tion — about fifteen hun- dred, and dropping by the last census—has a bad family; and to that family all town thieving and ma- licious mischief are attrib- uted. The Wilkeses were the Inlet’s bad family. When, in the days before the marriage, Minnie Jewett threatened to lose 1er head over Homer Wilkes, her mother had re- minded her that she would be marrying into a thor- oughly bad lot. With the single exception of Homer, they were light-fingered, they took whatever they could lay their hands on, they were sickly loafers, and every mother’s son of them headed for the state’s prison. They would tell a lie, every last one of them, when the truth would serve them better; they had skulking, hang-dog looks, and nobody was likely to forget that Homer Wilkes’ grandfather had been con- victed of assault with intent to kill one of his own broth- ers. The carving knife em- ployed on that occasion was still in daily use at the Wilkes table, some artistic gossipers maintained. Homer Wilkes was, it was true, the odd one; the family traits were not seen in him; and he had left home as soon as he grew strong enough to thrash his father. But still he had imbibed those false notions which had been his father’s downfall; that phi- losophy which saw no good in abstract principles, in systems like religion and the law. It was like waving a red rag at a bull to talk law in Homer Wilkes’ presence; yet as far as known his one breach of it had been the this bitter twist into her life. It had been unladylike, she knew, to abase herself so far as to pursue a man who had broken with her, even though the reasons for that had been silly and without warrant in thefacts. Butshe had paid a heavy penalty for her temerity. She had started in to wait on table at Tom Fisher’s grill; but then the men in the kitchen had started rowing over her. One of them, an Italian, had stuck a perfectly good cook in the arm; and Tom Fisher had been forced to dis- pense with Allie Sorensen’s services, though nobody could be found who would say that she was more than indirectly implicated. No doubt the yellow hair and those contem- plative eyes had been at fault. Some days later Homer Wilkes, coming in from hand- lining in a power dory, ran across her in a fog. She had lost an oar and was trying to scull a leaky dory through an ugly little cross chop. She had been on the way to drown herself, but once fairly on the water, she hadn’t been able to make the case look desperate enough. Homer had found a way to tuck her under Melviny’s wing— Melviny Hodges, that was; and thereafter for a time she stood, weekdays, behind the counter in Melviny’s dry-goods store. On Sundays she ventured out to church. Homer Wilkes made it a point to come and sit behind her; and Melviny “Might as Well whispered that he hadn't been there to her knowledge Loaf One Place as Another, He Said. What to Do, Once He Sets Foot on Land" since the days when they hired him to screw back the pews to the floor after they laid the new carpet. But Allie couldn’t feel that the man was really imminent. “‘IT guess you could do worse than encourage him,’”’ Mel- viny tittered. ‘“When I encourage another man I'll be older than I am now,” Allie Sorensen replied. ““You’re not so young now that you can trifle with the prospect,’’ Melviny menaced her. And Allie confessed, with a strange little turn of her head, that she had found a gray hair at her temple that morning and had plucked it out. “You think you can pluck old age out by the roots,” Melviny said, her old head shaking. ‘‘For every hair you pluck out there’s two more like it comes in its place, they tell me.” Homer Wilkes was often under her eye. She and Mel- viny were living in the Huddle then, on the water side, and had a back window, high up, that looked out on the slip where the seine boats loaded with tinker mackerel glided in. At the scream of the winch she would look out, but recoiled far enough from the window so as not to be visible herself. The big red-headed man, plastered with fish scales from head to heel, would be giving orders in his deep voice; It’s Hard for a Seagoing Man to Know selling of short lobsters. Allie Sorensen, though affecting total lack of inter- est in the man, still found ways of watching him from a dis- tance. He was anchor man on the local bowling team; and on Saturday nights she could look through the windows of the bowling-alley shack and see him hurling those black balls down the alley at terrific speed. The pin boy would just be able to get his legs out of the way when the crash came. “See the way them babies folded?”’ she heard an awed spectator murmur once. That was the way anything would go clattering down that opposed Homer Wilkes, she inferred; men, women, the law, religion. He got what he wanted. He was almost a law unto himself, and still his invincible good nature never forsook him. A cry went up, “He’s on a wreck. The man is on a wreck.”” That was because two candle pins were still stand- ing on opposite sides of the alley when two balls had been thrown. “‘Let’s see what we can salvage then,” Homer roared, and nipped one of them. It was this buoyance, and his ability to handle men, that had gained him Mr. J. K. Thaxter’s backing; and that had been responsible for giving him the contract for the big fill at Hooper’s Corner. It involved dumping a world of gravel

Page 11

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST into a mud flat; his enemies, men who had made unsuccess- “‘T had to do something, with the added expense of that her behavior, she wor ful bids for the contract, now said that the place had no girl on the premises,”’ she moaned. would call a difficult wife, there was 1 bottom. As fast as Homer Wilkes dumped his gravel it And Homer Wilkes had undertaken to settle everything, but Homer never allude would disappear in the ooze, they affirmed. The place was everything at once; the sheriff, Allie’s destiny She crafty pictures of the fun the nothing but a vast jelly. There would be traces of Homer couldn't remember his words, but they had somehow swept rich; when their ship came Wilkes’ road found in China if he persisted long enough. _ her off her feet. In the rush of his passion, she had been a overlooked her coldness; forar ““Anything that has a top has got a bottom,” he roared drowned woman. Melviny had been good to her; it might tactful. He didn’t pester her wit in answer to that. He was standing on the porch of Mrs. be that if she didn’t accede to this impetuous proposal But she could never tell what he was t Jewett’s house ie wasn’t visible; and a less obtuse Homer Wilkes would abandon them to their own resources ibject. Who cou isay what su man than Homer would have known the reason why—and “You do what you think best,’’ she murmured that matter? He was an atheist, an infide He Mrs. Jewett drawled: She didn’t know what he had done exa tiy; because the other world he had ar appetite ag “So has an accordion, but it can draw out some.” when Platt arrived with the sheriff he thrust her back into said. Forever was ful mouthf Ur eat “‘T guess I can face the music if it does draw out,’"” Homer the bedroom with Melviny and went out to deal wit}! part was just about i t ‘ yy shouted. those men alor e TI ere were rumors that Homer Wilkes to His r re 9 la lg Vas a f ‘ That was the last Allie had seen of him until the fatal had had to put in every cent he had in the 1 to fight “‘T suppose you will be getting up in time t t evening of Melviny’s downfall. There were different ver- that runner off, where he was all but down Melviny’s n the morning,” he s tting wn t ght c| ions of that; even Allie didn’t entirely know the rights of throat; but Allie hadn't heard these. She had a last “Yes.” \\ it; but some of the facts were beyond dispute. The runner thought of Captain George Foster; but that man was evi- “Want me along i) | Platt, whom Allie detested for the liberties he took, had got dently at a hopeless remove from her “Not unless you can behave you etter thar i wind of the fact that Melviny was sandbagging people into She had found herself Homer Wilkes’ wife, keeping ast Sunday, no.” 1 buying in a slack season by offering goods at less than cost. house for him in the little story-and-a-half house he had Ah, he was in disgrace st Last Sunday he ha 1 She had got credit for a big bill of goods; and now it was__ hired; and with the disgraced Melviny for kitchen hel; retly conducted an operat ga ‘ said that she was getting Will Golloup to cart stuff out of And now Captain George Foster had returned at length. in the seat in front of him, Martha Fisher, the | \ the store in the middle of the night and cache it, meaning She had known for a week that he was here, and even that warden’s daughter. Secretly, in su it nobody to go into bankruptcy, with advantage to herself. he meant to settle down and leave the sea for good, since Martha saw him—for he was one of the rascals ¥ ) Suddenly, on a Saturday night just after closing time, somebody had said in her hearing that the captain had been know how to choose their time by methods which de | Homer Wilkes had opened the door and walked in on her drawn for jury service and had made no protest. But this analysis—he had waggled his ear i} unannounced. He was taking too much for granted now, was the first time she had actually seen him. The little girl agitated her brown locks, and looked res« | al f thoug! ae but it seemed his one concern now was for a ou look as if you had seen a ghost, Homer W ilkes lutely ahead. Her tiny hat, varr i and shaped like \ Mlelviny. ‘‘Where’s the old lady?” he said harshly. said when they were putting their packages on the kitchen flowerpot turned upside down, was all! that was vis 1 ““Gone to bed,” Allie replied. table. She had split the sugar bag and was trailing her over the oak back of the pew. | WwW ‘Platt is coming with the sheriff,’ he whispered. “‘Have _ long fingers through the white grains, with her heart in her TI en inister was praying. Her shoulders moved. If the her out here, and let’s see what’s best to do.”’ throat. humorist exerted an ounce, a featherweight more of ) } But old Melviny had taken to her bed, swearing she was “It’s just—the weather,” she said. ‘I’m always sus- peculiar pressure, she was lost. She ought not to look ba { dying; and when Homer Wilkes forced his way in there, ceptible to these sudden changes. The wind’s easterly ag By every principle on which ladylike repression putting the outraged Allie out of his way, the sick woman again. It’s coming in that east window.” founded, she ought not. She did look | Homer movt bounced out of bed in a frenzy. She was wrapped from “Take more than a !ittle wind to blow you away,” he his ears in a flash, timing the exhibition to a hair, as a fro; head to foot in bolts of colored silks, and she shrieked and laughed. smears a fly. Instantly his face was grave, eyes ont | prayed and besought Homer Wilkes to save her from the Allie lit a lamp by the sink, and another swinging froma __ preacher, his delectable ears quiescent | ' penitentiary. wall bracket. What must Homer Wilkes think secretly of Continued on Page 100 She Had Lost an Oar and Was Trying to Scull a Leaky Dory Through an Ugty Little Cross Chop

Page 12

N THIs int we are NOW, as ev- erybody knows ng ina very drab era, commor ulled the age of the is done something d irsouls. | sely what it has done is not very clearly explained; it is just one of those things that every- y knows and, therefore, doesn’t have to be explained. \s nearly as I can make out, however, the specific indict- ‘ ment that remains after much sifting of generalities is that machines seem to have found this country an excellent breeding ground and are proving more fecund than neigh- boring mankind, with the result that we poor mortals have been quietly conquered; we now spend most of our time hanging onto fiywheels, dodging pistons and lubricating irings. Briefly we are enslaved. Meanwhile our souls shrivel up like au- tumn leaves and 10 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Nine Slaves for Fach Citizen By CHESTER TI. CROWELL under and around this monster these tiny little humans strut, for they say that before they came it was a dead thing and that if they were to go away it would again be dead. It isstill less than a year old, so they will tell of Tom and Nick and Bill and Ed who brought it there in little pieces of fifty to 200 tons each, lowering them into place by the touch of a hand on throttles. Quite plainly it is their theory that they run this machine and not that it runs them. As for it owning anybody, they reply that it belongs to the New York Edison Company and was built in Schenectady, New York. November 6, 1926 and frigates. When a second generating plant was added in 1914 to the original one, Mr. Dow and the army of men under his command decided, for purely senti- mental reasons, to kindle the new fire under its boilers with coals brought from the olderfurnace. Againin 1922 this was done, when a third plant went into service, and the cere- mony was repeated in 1924 when the fourth turbine was added. ‘It has been the custom of our company,” says the company’s official publication, “‘to pay a certain rev- erence to the original fire started under the boilers; to preserve its continuity in the different generating plants. Is it a survival, obscure, unconscious, from ancient days when fire was the symbol of the sun when the fortunes of state or family were associated with the ever-burning fire in temple or hearth, and men driftsilently, sadly into the ash pit They don’t even moan on the way. Now it doesn’t require much newspaper train- ing to know that that story would be first-page stuff if one could con- firm it, so I picked out several of the biggest machines in the world and fared forth to in- terview them and their victims At the time my investigation .was undertaken, which was several weeks ago, the biggest machine in the world lived down at the foot of Four- teenth Street, Manhattan, onthe bank of the East River, but as these lines are written the biggest ma- chine in the world _ isoverin Brooklyn and probably be- fore publication there will be stiil larger machines elsewhere, ail of which confirms at least one part of in their journey- ings into new places carried liv- ing coals from the local shrine to start their fires afresh? Who knows?’”’ Well, I don’t; but, at any rate, the imagination of men who have any such attitude as that toward fur- nace fires can nei- ther be said to have died nor to have been divorced from their busi- ness. Quiteplainly they find their means of earning a living extremely interesting. Ceremony & A MATTER of fact, there is so much senti- ment associated with these new vestal fires that one is rarely kin- dled nowadays without ceremony. For example, on December 10, 1925, a very large steam-turbinegen- erating plant went into service at Cin- cinnati, Ohio, and the report-—colos- S — al machines are multiplying rap- idly. Virtually all these behemoths are of the breed known as steam tur- bine. They arestrikingly lacking in beauty; their activities a touch more than half the population of this country directly and the rest not very indirectly, so they seemed likely spects for confirmation of the aforementioned theory. A Monster With Man-Given Life tT. t! heart of this machine age is the steam turbine, for erally thousands of mechanical devices depend upon t and may properly be said to have been spawned by it. ‘he one down at the foot of Fourteenth Street eats 60,000 pounds of coal an hour. Not 60,000 pounds a day. No. Sixty thousand pounds an hour! It is fifty feet high anda great deal more than fifty feet long and it weighs more than 1,000,000 pounds. Its visible retinue of servants is im- pressive, without counting all the absentees who dig and ransport that hourly diet of thirty tons of coal. Anyone ho has mastered the necessary point of view could spot this thing at first glance as a slave owner; obviously, then, e next step was to get the testimony of its victims. Their attitude toward the machine, however, is baffling. lhev actually pet it and brag about it. “Eighty thousand rse power,”’ they warble, and into their eyes comes a peculiar glow that strangely resembles pride. Over and + ea in Foreground, a 17,000-:Kilowatt High+Pressure Turbine What, then, of the owners of these machines? Are they not dollar-chasing materialists caught in the web of their own cupidity and forced to go on and on buying or building more and more of these monsters, making them forever larger and larger, perhaps to no great purpose? What do they think of their monsters? Or do they think of them at all? Is there any romance or adventure in this business? Any imagination? We used to capture the raw material for illumination, at sea in whaling ships, which was a rather exciting business and finally found a place in literature and art. So far as I know, steam turbines have inspired no deathless poems, novels or pictures; but then perhaps whaling ships didn’t, either, at first. To cover the ground adequately it would be necessary to interview some of these so-called owners and find out whether they really are owners or just slaves. In Detroit, Michigan, I found a man named Alex Dow who has for many years been the executive head of a com- pany owning and operating steam turbines. About twenty years ago the company had one turbine, now it has a flock of them. There has been ample time, I should say, for these implements of utility to crush the poetry out of those who associate with them, but they persist in exhibiting the same peculiarly affectionate attitude toward steam turbines that was once characteristic of sailors toward their clipper ships The Lights of Chicago—Two Commonweatth Edison Units, a 60,000-Kilowatt Cross Compound High-and:Low:Pressure Turbine and, Owen D. Young, who might reason- ably be expected, because of his business connections, to be influenced somewhat by the point of view of the makers of turbines, was summoned from New York to be the speaker of the occasion. His own words are the best evidence of the impression this new machine age makes upon him. “The great power station opened today,”’ he said, “‘ will produce energy equivalent to the work of 9,000,000 men. There is a population of 1,000,000 in the service area of the Columbia Gas & Electric Company. This means, on the average, that nine additional slaves have this day been dedicated to the service of each man, woman and child in this community. In Athens each free citizen had but four. “‘This is the way America must solve her problem of maintaining higher wages than any other country in the world and at the same time keeping her goods competitive in foreign markets. We must put more energy back of the worker, in order that he may be a director of power rather than a generator of it. In this way he can increase his pro- duction, and with increased production he may not only maintain but increase his wage. At the same time the cost of the product may be diminished, and our goods may meet effectively in the foreign market the production of other countries where lower wages and lower living stand- ards prevail. I congratulate the producers of goods in this

Page 13

community, whether they be employers or workers, on having in their service 9,000,000 more inanimate slaves “‘I want to see this art not only run the giant industries of the cities, but I want it also to be so humble and true in its social service that we shall banish from the farmers’ homes the drudgery which in the earlier days killed their wives, ‘We have come here to dedicate a power plant —an in- strument of utility. Is it only that? Perhaps it is a temple.” Oddly enough, the first steam turbine of which there is any record actually was used ina temple. Heron of ancient Alexandria had a quaint sort of teakettle arrangement with a fire under it and a paddle wheel over it. The steam turned the paddle wheel, which in turn caused the temple doors to open and close very THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 3ut to the individual producer who lifts the burden from his back to his wits, it makes a great deal of difference. He will have more to eat and more to wear, more leisure, a better house and greater opportunities. If all these things avail him nothing in terms of happiness then the whole course of human aspirations over quite a number of cer turies has been wrong. The creators of the machine age do not believe it has been wrong. As believers in the common people, the masses, the proletariat, or whatever one is pleased to call the public, these men need bow to no visionary or idealist who ever lived. They go as far as any of them —poet, prophet, or political reformer—in their faith that when mechanical slaves replace human drudgery the general welfare of mankind must inevitably be advanced. The economic and industrial fabric mysteriously. In addition, the paddle wheel as- sisted the gods in moving their heads, so that their worshipers were greatly im- pressed. The possibili- ties of steam power seem to have been dis- covered over and over again in the course of history, only to be later forgot- ten. Why, I don’t know, un- less, perhaps, the motives be- hind these dis- coveries were not sufficiently valid, for it is ynly during comparatively recent times that one steam engine has led straightway to they weave is less protected against public dislike than any other that has ever existed. If it had to be guarded by armed men it could notexist at all. Uncounted miles of cables, pipes, tunnels and steel rails are essential to its operation, and these are guarded by pub- lic understand- ing of their use- fulness. The Washing- tons and Jeffer- sons, Franklins circulation of more than 2000 copies. There are also im posing monuments to both living and dead struggled for this cause, but you w ndn or near workshops, seldom along boulevards or parks or cemeteries Not long ago I saw such a monument; it i grin of steel and in shape suggests an enormous | stands on a stone base in front of a workshop and nated A Monument to Courage If you ask a workmen thereabouts will mention Bill Emmett. Int world he is as well known as Douglas Fairban son Mair Street or Broadway. He played a conspicuous part in ti construction of the first 5000-horse-power steam turbin¢ turned out by that shop. In its day it was an experiment if failure had attended that effort the result would have been comparable to the loss of a key position in a de battle, but the carefully made plans worked; the turbine was a success, and now it stands before the shop as a mor ment to its builders. Incidentally Bill Emmett is very much alive and still on the job. In the scient world one doesn’t have to die in order to win a monument Knowledge is Horse Power | THINK it would be safe to venture the surmise that at least half of those in workshops and laboratories com memorate the victories of living men. There is a very sim- ple reason for this— mechanical and scientific achievements are tangible, exact and not to be destroyed by mere opin ion. A statesman might win fame as a republican and later turn monarchist; a soldier might be the outstanding hero of one or more battles and later go over to the other t side; a philosopher could desert his disciples and repudiate the theories that drew them to him. But it would maker difference what the inventors of the vacuum tube, the carburetor, or electric generators or transformers later said about them. They work. The job once done has immor tality. The author can be a Republican, Democrat or Socialist, as his fancy dictates, without affecting in the slightest whatever he has snatched from the vast realm of the unknown and harnessed for the service of mankind another and a better one. Back of all this striving for improvement there seems to be not only the driving force of imagination and search for knowledge but a desire also to serve an ever-increasing number of men and women. And what is that but the spirit of democratic idealism invading and coloring indus- try, if not, indeed, directing its course? This new spirit is inescapable, no matter whether one turns his inquiry to- ward the shop, the laboratory, the owners of machines, or the men who operate them. A Machine:-Made Freedom EGARDLESS of whether these men are able to say it in so many words or not, their purpose, obviously, is to fashion mechanical! slaves so that men and women can do more work with their heads and less with their elbows and backs. They see this development of the machine age asa great, romantic adventure leading on to possibilities for more beauty and comfort in the life of the average person. To them it represents a revolution compared with which Marxian Socialism or Russian Bolshevism would be puny and futile, a mere dance in the wind. Let’s get right down to a specific case and view for a moment through the eyes of an engineer the revolution of the machine which is now in progress. The engineer I have in mind had just com- pleted work on a small implement designed for use in a wood-working shop. The major portion of his task was to attach to this implement a little electric motor that a small boy could wrap up in his cap. ‘*Now,”’ said the man, pointing to his completed work, “anyone who competes with that machine by hand is working for about five cents an hour.” That remark furnishes a complete definition of what the ancient slogan, Freedom, means to these men. From their point of view a landowner with a vast domain who de- pended upon oxen for power and sharp sticks for plows would still be a slave, no matter how inviolable his pos- sessions or his person. They accept the ancient axiom that work must be done if man is to live, but at this point they slip a joker in the deck. Briefly it is this: If the work is done it doesn’t make any difference whether a man sweats over the task or a machine does it easily, we shall still live. and Hamiltons of this gigantic revolution are well aware of what they are doing to ancient traditions and ways of living. No flood tide sweeps them blindly on to- ward they know not what. Day by day and year by year the course is charted. If au- thoritative esti- mates are cor- rect, the time has already come when the variations be- tween thestand- (#5 erecting monu ments for the commemoration of victories lack ing in dramati: appeal, itis safe to surmise that ‘. somewhere the course of its development the steam tur bine must have impressed them as the symbol of a struggle against heavy odds toward a goal wort! reaching, and that is precisely the case The story of the turbine has in it the ele- ments of tl best detective yarns, it Savors of Jules Verns and it is a vital point mn tne ards of living tior Into it in two different thousands of countries closely men have approximate the The Heart of Cheap Power—Steam Turbine Wheets Under the Sand-Electrical I yured the la difference be- Test That Sotved the Explosion Riddle bors and the tween the amounts of mechanical power they use. Some day in the not far distant future, say the prophets of this machine revo- lution, the ratio between primary power and standards of living will be predicted with almost as great accuracy as are ocean tides. To the men who are engaged in promoting it this revo lution is thrilling. It has heroes of whom the crowds in motion-picture palaces seldom hear, but in their own world they are colossal figures before whom great men bow low It has a vast and treasured literature, made up for the most part of little books and monographs and pamphlets, eacl of which goes all over the world and yet seldom attains a ] these were not sufficient, genius itself was enlisted and com missioned to explore the unknown reaches of pure science the hope of bringing back a precious fact or two that might and eventually did, turn the tide. One corporation alone has spent $30,000,000 just in developing the steam turbin« charting the path ahead, maki: safer, easier to control, or more econom tion of fuel. And still the work goes great war, not against any person or commonwealth, but for the liberation of elbows and the enfranchisement of brains In this warfare an ar ent aj rism |! been (Continued on Page 74)

Page 14

WO men emerged from the woods, bearing a third on a stretcher between them. They crossed the muddy road, shaping their course for an ambulance that stood there, its mo- tor rumbling and a faint ribbon of ciga- rette smoke from the seat showing that the driver was in his place and ready to proceed. Another man was at the rear f the ambulance, closing and locking the tail gate and pulling down the rear curtain ‘Awright, Wally, “that fixes us.” said the driver, ‘‘an’ we'll called this man, “Git in,” fade outta here.”’ The two men with the stretcher quickened their pace “Hey,” said the leading stretcher bearer. He did not call, but spoke the word, using a minimum of effort. Men who have to carry stretchers full of | wounded for twenty-four or more hours at a shift are chary of their strength. \ ‘Hey what?” asked the man at the \ rear of the ambulance \ ‘We got a passenger for yuh,” re- plied the stretcher bearer. The man at the rear of the ambulance turned. He was short, thickset, and slightly inclined to bow outward in the leg. His hair was red, and his face, burned by continual exposure to sun, rain, and wind above the canvas windshield of an ambulance, matched his hair in color ~~ Hence he was called tooge, which is Franeco-American for Red. He ain’t goin’ this trip,”’ said Rooge, surveying the man on the stretcher. ‘We ain’t got no room.” “He's the only guy that’s left,’’ said the bearer, “‘an’ the nurse says we should bring him out an’ tell you fellers to take him.” ‘‘ How we gonna take him?” demanded Rooge. ‘Put him on the roof or tie a rope round his neck an’ hang him on the outside like a spare tire? Ain’t yuh got no savvy? They’s room for four in one o’ these, two up an’ two down, an’ when them four is in, there ain't room for a coot to wiggle. Where yuh gonna put five?”’ The driver leaned from the seat and looked back at the group by the rear end. “ What’s all this sewage?” he de- nanded. “They got a guy here to go out,’ they claim we gotta take him.” “Well, don’t stand argufyin’ with ‘em,”’ snapped the driver. ‘“‘There’s only ’commodation for four, an’ that settles it. Git in an’ let’s go.” ‘“‘He’s hit bad,” said the stretcher bearer. “He'll pull a croak if he don’t get out quick.” “Yeh, an’ if he does anyway, the boys at the Evacuation replied Rooge. ‘an’ buries him ‘stead o’ you.’ “Well,”’ said the bearer, “‘we gotta lot o’ work to do takin’ down tents an’ the like o’ that. This here hospital has got to move up about ten mile, an’ we ain’t got no time to look after no guy that’s gettin’ ready to croak. Ain’t yuh got a man in there you can pull out an’ come back an’ git another trip?” “No,” said the driver with asperity; ‘“‘because this is our last trip. We was ordered to come up here an’ clean out this hospital o’ wounded men, an’ if you birds ain’t got no more sense than to admit guys after your hospital’s got orders to move, you e’n look out for 'em yourself. Git on, Rooge, or I'll go without yuh.” There was a sudden beating on the side of the ambulance. Thump, thump, thump, like the knocking on a door. “Somebody wants to speak to yuh,’’ remarked the stretcher bearer Rooge favored him with a look of disdain, and walking to the little door in the side of the ambulance behind the driver's seat, he opened it. “What d’yuh want?” he demanded roughly. ) ILLUSTRATED THE SATURDAY EVENING POST AA IL’ By Leonard Hl. Nason HENNING BY ALBIN “Tell Me,"’ Panted the Nurse. ‘‘You're Comin’ Back for Him, Aren't You?"’ Those who watched noticed that Rooge then coughed in an embarrassed manner, and that his face grew a shade redder than it had been before. ‘“‘Er—did you knock, sir?’’ continued Rooge. ““Yes,”’ said a weak, yet chilly voice, ‘I did. Take me out of this ambulance.” “We ain’t got time, sir,” faltered Rooge. ‘‘ We’re on our way right now.” Here, Wally, the driver, who had been listening, made the motor roar. ‘‘ Yuh see, sir?” asked Rooge. “Take me out of here!” snapped the man in the am- bulance. ‘You can understand a direct order, can’t you? Roll up that curtain and unload me or take the conse- quences!"’ Rooge turned and looked helplessly at the two stretcher bearers. Their behavior was singular. They had lowered the stretcher to the ground and had remained beside it in a crouching position, but as soon as they heard the voice from the interior of the ambulance they slipped off their shoulder slings and seemed about to flee. “No, you don’t!’’ cried Rooge. ‘‘Hey, Wally, these birds are tryin’ to beat it an’ leave this stiff on our hands!” The driver promptly leaped over the canvas curtain, and he and Rooge pursued the bearers. The first one fled too rapidly, but the second one they seized and brought back. The man in the ambulance clamored. “What's eatin’ him?” asked Wally in an undertone. “He craves unloadin’,” said Rooge. ‘‘What do you two birds think you’re gettin’ away with, beatin’ it off an’ leavin’ that guy in the mud? Then you could say we chucked him outta the ambulance, huh?” “Naw,” said the bearer, “‘ but we know that there shavey that’s yellin’. We been tryin’ to get shut of him all morn- ing. He’s hit bad, an’ no one wants he should croak on our hands, count he’s addykong to some general. Don’t un- load him, just shut the door an’ drive like hell.” November 6, 1926 All I ID Ig “Yeh, that’s good advice,”’ remarked Wally, “only when we get to where we're goin’, it’s us that unloads this shavey an’ maybe explains to Judge Duffy how come we don’t obey a direct order. An’ you birds away up in the Argonne somewheres, as safe as Riley.’’ He walked up to the open door. ‘““What was you wantin’ to be unloaded for, sir?”’ quired Wally of the person within. “‘There’s a man out there that’s badly wounded. He needs to go out more than I do. Unload me and put him in here.” “Well, sir, we was just gettin’ ready to go an’ we’d have to put up the curtain an’ let down the tail gate an’ all, an’ we’re late now. The rest o’ the convoy is miles away by now. This feller’ll be all right; there’s other ambulances.” “Never mind,” said the man within. ‘I’ve heard the conversation. I know as well as you do that the hospital is moving forward and that this ambulance is on its last trip. Unload me, or I'll have you tried Understand? Put up that curtain or I'll crawl out this door!” “Yessir,”’ said Wally. “Rooge, open her up an’ take out the lootenant.”’ Rooge and the re- maining stretcher bearer then unbuttoned and raised the curtain, let down the tail gate, and to the accompani- ment of squealing hooks, dragged out one of the bottom stretchers. They laid this in the road and looked at it sadly. Thereon, clothed in what had been an expensive uniform, was a young man wearing the insignia of a second lieutenant of cavalry, United States Army. One shoulder of the blouse had been cut away, together with the accompanying sleeve, revealing a mass of white bandage. The high blouse collar was still hooked about the officer’s neck, however, and above its edge peeped an eighth of an inch of white collar. The marveling soldiers noticed that the Sam Browne belt was still in place, that the remaining sleeve was nicely creased down the center, and that the tumbled blanket revealed a boot and spur, which, muddy as it was, had been highly polished within the past twenty-four hours. “Well, load up the other one,” said Wally finally. “‘There’s some of us got work to do an’ we gotta be about it.” “Wait a minute,” said the lone stretcher bearer, my pardner comes back.” ‘What for?” cried Wally. ‘Ain't I got a orderly I been givin’ a motor tour o’ France to for the last year or so? Ain’t he able to lift one end of a stretcher? Come on, Rooge, exercise your back muscles an’ leave your jaw get a little rest. Bear up on your end o’ the stretcher an’ let’s make smoke down this road.” Rooge inhaled a lungful of air to make fitting reply, but at that instant he observed the stretcher bearer step a little to the side and beckon vigorously. Wally at once stepped in that direction and Rooge, postponing what he had to say for the moment, stepped likewise. “Where yuh got it?’”’ inquired Wally, licking his lips thirstily. ‘“‘Give us it quick, cause we’re losin’ time here.’ “‘Listen,”’ began the stretcher bearer in a hoarse whis- per. ‘“‘This here gilt-edge lootenant is aide to the Old Man o’ the Mountain. He comes up here huntin’ for a good boche dugout to have a P. C. or seekin’ some outfit to devour an’ turn in for untidy appearance, an’ the boche socked him. He was two mile from the front line, but they musta seen him in all that brass and shoe leather an’ he got one right at his feet. Zoom! Well, jus’ kiddin’ like, I sup- pose, they told him he didn’t have no kind of a wound. So he thinks he ain’t hurted none an’ he won't go out if there’s any enlisted men waitin’ to go. We been loadin’ an’ in ‘’til

Page 15

unloadin’ him all mornin’. We thought he was gone long ago. He musta got Pete an’ Hennesy to pull him outta the last wagon he was in.”’ ““Maybe he’s got a wife he don’t want to go back to an’ he’s tryin’ to commit suicide,”’ suggested Rooge. ‘““Was you beckonin’ to us,’’ demanded Wally, ‘to give is a little shot or just a lot o’ conversation? We got lots o’ wounded to lug an’ there’s more customers bein’ made for us every minute. If a guy don’t want a ride with us, there’s them that does. Time, tide, an’ this here butcher cart waits for no shavetail. C’m on, Rooge, we go.” He turned on his heel, and followed by Rooge, walked to the stretcher on which lay the wounded enlisted man Him they picked up and shoved into the ambulance with a resounding thump. Wally then mounted to his seat, while Rooge once more arranged tail gate and curtain for the trip out. He heard people coming down the path from the hospital, and turning, discovered that the other stretcher bearer had returned, accompanied by a com- panion. Rooge immediately busied himself with the cur- tain. He heard the two bearers pick up the lieutenant’s stretcher and go squudging off up the muddy path with it. He heard feet coming across the road in his direction, and then a voice spoke: “What made you unload that officer?’ Rooge looked up. A nurse stood there, looking at him with very evident vexation. She wore hobnails, putties, and probably the rest of the uniform of a soldier, but over this she had a nurse’s uniform of coarse gray cotton, caked with chocolate-colored mud halfway up the skirt. She had on an untidy red sweater, badly in need of darning, and a muffler was wound round her neck and over her head, leav- ing only her face visible. On a street, or in a hospita! at home, perhaps, a man might not give her a great deal of thought after a first glance. Her skin was fresh and clear, her eyes gray, and her features a reflection of the whole- some spirit behind them; but of fifty American girls, forty-nine would have given the same impression. Here, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST however, was not home, but the Argonne on a cold au tumn morning Rooge gulped over his words. This was the first Amer ican girl to whom he had spoken in two year He had seen others — nurses, telephone operators, Sallies, and what not —but they had never spoken to him; they had never come up and breathed on him and looked right into eves ‘*What did you take him out for? Answer me!”’ insisted the nurse “*Lady,”’ gulped Rooge, ‘“‘er -miss -er—ma’am! H’m Lady, he’s a officer, an’ we gotta do what he says or it cost us two-thirds of a month's pay for a lotta months “*But he’s badly wounded “Well, lady, that don’t make no difference He's a lieutenant, an’ we ain’t but bucks.” “Oh! Oh!" moaned the nurse, wringing her hands ‘Now he'll die on us, and what can we do?” *‘Don't feel bad,”’ said Rooge, thinking to comfort her “Them shaveys is expendable. If one or two is missin’ here an’ there they don’t make yuh account for ’em!”’ ‘“*Listen,”’ said the nurse suddenly. “‘Can’t you The motor of the ambulance began to roar and the wheels to turn. Rooge started to run toward the front of the ambulance. ‘I gotta go now, lady,’ said he diffi dently. ‘“‘This here Wally might make me hang on the back step an’ ride standin’ up all the way to Sewey, like he did the other day when I was makin’ a cigarette an’ didn’t hear him holler.” The nurse, however, accompanied him, but she ran along the other side of the ambulance, so that when Rooge came to his seat he found the nurse on the other side, clinging to Wally’s arm over the spare tire “Tell me,”’ panted the nurse. ‘* You’re comin’ back for him, aren't you?” “‘Nope,”’ said Rooge, feeling bolder, now that Wally wa between him and the nurse. ‘This is the last trip for us We're goin’ over to the other side to Foor de Paree next eo oo So bs “ve 4 * oo >, iat Miia APEED ee TO * Slee et . ‘ You'd Come Back,’’ She Said Cheerily. “We've Gathered Up a Feu But et n " ne cried the Ise f he won't have anyone t k after Can't yuh stop a truck or some Weakly He should ‘a’ thought o’ that before he about orderin’ us to unload him,’ remarked Roogs We can’t stop trucks,” said the nurse me through here. This isn’t a main road anyway Rooge hereupon nudged Wally forcefully in the ntimate to him that it was time to move on, but the was on Wally’s side and she had hold of his arm wit and and his wrist with the other. The hand that held | wrist was soft and cool, very cool, indeed, but not s that it should have made him shiver the way he did I ain’t got the authority, ma'am,” stammered Wal ‘This here ambulance don't belong to me. I gotta take it where I get orders to. Maybe I could tell some o' tl fellars ‘C’m on,” said Rooge; “‘c’m on. The motor’s runnit all the time an’ we're wastin’ gas here. We'd come ba for him an’ maybe get tried, an’ then he'd be dead maybe took out by someb dy else before we was hers ‘Listen to me,” said the nurse earnestly This officer is aide to General Middleton. He's badly hit. He was brought in here this morning early by someone with a side car, and now we can’t get him out. He won't go if he thinks he’s taking an enlisted man’s place. That's al right, but we haven't got time to fool with him. The hosp tal is moving up about ten kilometers and we're supposed to be out of here by noon. We'd be all right and all cleaned up except for him. What are we going todo? All the am- bulances will be rerouted and we'll be left with this lic tenant on our hands. We can’t leave him here in the woods to die. Can't you come back and get him?” ‘Ow!” replied Wally He bent over with a ruefu ountenance to rub his bruised shin Continued on Page :32 More for You Too"'

Page 16

14 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 “Tam Mr. A. A. Grigsby and I Would Like to See Somebody About Establishing an Account, as I Think You Call It’’ Y RIGHTS I should of passed up this guy Grigsby to somebody else that first day he blew into the office. Like in most Stock Exchange firms, an order clerk in Reilly & Wilson’s ain't personally supposed to look after customers, only to handle their orders, and shoot them reports and quotes, and give them some kind of excuse that sounds good whenever they kick—which is ninety-nine times out of ninety-nine. So what I should of done with Grigsby was stick a lily in his hand and turn him over to one of these fish that calls themselves custom- ers’ men, after wishing him a clear day for the funeral and hoping he would look natural. But it happens I didn’t. It was only a couple of days after Reilly & Wilson had give me a boost in salary and put me in full charge of the order room, including the private wires, and maybe on account of that I was feeling chesty. Anyhow, when I found out this Grigsby wasn’t just a tight-wad investor or an odd-lot piker, I got the snappy idea I would hang onto him for myself, and grab off the credit for what business he would do. The idea worked all right, too; and more would of come out of it, only woman’s wiles, and so forth, finally broke up the ball game. I was all set to go out to lunch this day when I seen the Grigsby egg push in through the door marked Customers and look around the room like he expected somebody would sand- bag him. He had a sort of puckered face, with big goggles and a sharp beak, and his chest kind of grew in instead of out. You would of thought he didn’t eat much, only you would of been wrong. That was how it was with Grigsby. If you ex pected to win on him you had first off to make a good guess and then play it to lose After he looked the place over for a minute or two he reached past me and poked Old Man Cook on the arm. Cook didn’t have his hat on, and Grigsby must of thought he was somebody working for the house Instead of that, old Cook is a hard-boiled crab that’s been parking himself around our tickers every day since I been with the firm, and keeping me guessing where he finds all the money he loses He would get the unanimous ILLUSTRATED Br R. mM. By Robert S. Winsmore BRINK ERHOFF vote for Mr. America in any grouch contest he might go into, and I’ll give odds his kicking average ain’t been un- der a thousand any year since the panic of ’73. ‘‘Well, what do you want?”’ says Old Man Cook when he seen he didn’t know this bird that was nudging him; and I heard the lad with the goggles say: “Good morning, sir. I am Mr. A. A. Grigsby and I would like to see somebody about establishing an account, as I think you call it.’”’ “Is that so?”’ says Cook. “Why?” Grigsby blinked at him, kind of surprised, and finally he says, ‘Well, I intend to speculate in the stock market, sir.”” “Oh, do you?” says Cook. “Why?” Goggles took a second or two to think that over, and then he said, “I have a certain reason, sir.” “*Maybe I could guess it if I tried hard,” says the old crab, “but why don’t you use your money to nominate a senator with? You could get rid of it nearly as fast that way.” “You Mean You Got a System?"' I Asked Him Grigsby used up a little time on that one, too, before he come back at Cook with, “I am not interested in politics at all. 1 expect to give my attention to movements in securi- ties.” “Oh, well, then,” says Cook, “if you have already sentenced yourself to play this game, I guess I can fix it so as nobody around here will try and stop you. This room is inhabited mostly by goats, but a donkey or two in it won’t make any difference.”’ Then he called out to me, “Larry, here’s a man with a common complaint and needs treatment.”” So I went up and asked Grigsby could I do anything for him. ‘Are you in a position of authority here, sir?’’ he says to me, very solemn. “More or less,” I told him. ‘‘It depends.”’ “Depends on what, sir?”’ he asks. “On a number of things, sir,’’ I said. ‘‘What was the subject of what you wanted to know about, sir?’’ He was so stiff with his words I thought I would be the same with him. . “Let me introduce myself,’’ he says, and hands out a letter. It was from the Mechanics’ Bank in a place called Shoalsville, saying Mr. A. Augustus Grigsby is every way ace high with them, and they are glad of a chance to tell the world he is. ‘*Fine,’’ I told him. “What can we do for you?” “This will serve for mar- gin, as you call it,’’ he says, and passes me a check. It was a cashier’s check on the Wall Street National, and it was for five thousand. “‘Finer still,’ I said; and right there was where I got the idea this party was going to be my customer and no- body else’s. It wasn’t the biggest account in the world, but it wasn’t so little neither, and I thought I would like to see what I could do with it. So I called off my date with lunch and got Grigsby all fixed up with signatures and things, and while that was going on I was listening to him telling me all about Grigsby. By the time he got through I was wise to at least two things. One was that this iY —————_—

Page 17

ry 1} “Wait!"’ I Yelled, and I Run Back and Fished Out the Order He i Wrote. ‘“‘That Says Buy, Don't It?"’ I Says, and Stuck it Up in - : : alread , eee lies } Front of His Goggles - anc already looking & HULK i} red Grigsby didn’t know how to laugh, or not even why it “Oh, yes, of course,”’ he says. ‘Thank you very mu worked fast on that lumberjack toda } got the | \" ought to be done. The other was that he was the real, And the jane cuties him with ‘Oh, not at all, I’m sure, fall in less than thirty seconds by the wat ) original, white-haired boy of the well-known nut family. Mr. Grigsby,” and exits girlishly ‘I haven't any idea what you're talking it, It You meet plenty of them in the stock business, but this ““Who was that young lady?"’ Grigsby wants to know, Margie. ‘“ What did he say? Ki one was 4 ninety horse power plus, and then plus in addi- and keeps looking at the door after she went out **He thought he remembered you at first,”’ I ld her } tion to that. “That wasn’t no young lady; that wasastenographer,”” ‘‘He thought you was his old nurse M By what he told me, it seemed Grigsby’s old man had _ I says, but it was a flop. Someways Grigsby put me in ‘You're such a scream,” she says, “‘and I can see now t left him a lumberyard outfit up in this Shoalsville place, mind of Coolidge. why you ain't on the stage. So many p. e would die and he had been running it for his business ever since he ‘Is she employed here every day?” he asks. “‘What is laughing at you that the police would close up the show come out of college. It was a good business, he said, but it her name?”’ “Grigsby wouldn't be one of them,” I said He t didn’t feel congenial to him, and the profits didn’t pile in “Miss Deever,” I told him. “If you call her Margie for laughed since he found out his old folks only lef m a fast enough to let him spread out to something else he short she’s liable to get peevish.”’ million dollars.”’ liked better. This other thing was to raise scientific pigs ‘I should think she would,” he says. ‘‘She is very ‘Are you kidding?” she say and eggs and cauliflowers and everything. Grigsby said beautiful, isn’t she?” “*He’s increased it since. But why do you ask he was going to make that his life’s serious work, and he ‘They all get that way nowadays,” I said. ‘‘Go out on “Oh, nothing. I’m just full of idle curiosity.’ wanted to get started on it right away. Broadway any lunchtime and see for yourself.” “Listen, princess,”’ I said, “‘except for his looks, tl But he needed something like fifty thousand cash money ““T wouldn’t care to do that,” says Grigsby. ‘‘Does Grigsby has got only one drawback, wi that his name to begin it right, and instead of selling out the lumberyard Miss Deever live here in the city?” is Augustus. Of course he decided it would be quicker and easier to run down to “How would I know?” I says. “I’m married.’ that’s a little bit of New York and flick the coin out of the stock market. As He had a little trouble with that, but finalls tough luck, 1 said, he didn’t have what you might call a sense of he got it translated his own way. ‘‘Oh, I see,” but otherwise humor. He told me he had left a good man to run the hesays. “ Naturally, it would be your wife who —— a lumber business while he was away, so now he had that off his mind, and didn’t have nothing at all to do except to trim the market a couple of times a day and think up new styles for next season’s meat and green groceries “It’s a great idea,’ I told him when he got that far. “What are you going to do for a starter? I hear this Bethlehem Steel is likely to be good in the rex: day or so, and you might do worse than take on a litt'e of that.” ““Oh,”’ he says, “I shall be guided entire y by the prin- ciples I have worked out for myself.” From that, of course, I knew the worst. got a system?” I asked him. ‘You might call it that,’ he says, ‘‘although it actually s a formula.”” And then he told me how he had been tudying up on the stock market for as much as three months and had doped it all out so now he could make up t curve that would show just what was coming off in any tock at all. ‘ I would of understood it better if he had used more \merican words when he was telling it, but it seemed he had found out a stock in the market was the same as a bullet you had fired out of a rifle. Somehow you counted up the weight it carried and its speed at the start, and after it got going you used log’rithms or something. That would tell you just where it would stop going up and begin coming down, and what form it would show any time, either going 1r coming, in the mud or on a fast track, win, lose or draw. ‘You mean you “It is really very simple,” says Grigsby. ‘‘I have ap- ) plied scientific principles and practices to the problem of } determining the course of security prices. I have worked ) out a formula and proved it. The rest is only a matter of mathematics.” } ** Anybody can easy see what you mean,” I said. ‘‘ How did you get onto it?” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 3 Le “it was no trouble at all to discover the principles of movements on the Stock Exchange.”’ “That’s great work,” I told him at ought to “With a mind trained in science,”’ he says, price be a good system if it wins.’ tested it,” he “The records of twenty stocks in the last two years show the for mula was always right.” ““What more could you want I said, and I let it go at that You don’t get anywheres arguing with a chart player as long as he’s got a dollar left; besides, | didn’t know this one well enough ‘I have and yet to do anything but agree with him. It’s good business always to agree with customers anyhow, particularly the more cuckoo ones But Grigsby probably would of gone on telling me more about his dope system, only just then Margie Deever floated in to bring him the cashier’s credit memo for his check. “*Mr. Grigsby?” warbles Mar- gie, very sweet, giving him the old high eyebrows and holding back the slip like she didn’t know if h« was the one ought to get it I grabbed it away from her and give it to him “Receipt for says, but he was focusing on Mar ~ i your check,” I But Grigsby Didn't Pay Any Attention would know where the young lady lives, wouldn't it? I hope you will ask her and let me know.” You can understand that the more I thought about Grigsby after he went out, the more I could see he would soon be buying the Metro- politan Museum off of somebody if he was let run loose. It was a pipe that some gabby boy would pick him up and show him how to use his science dope to get control of the Standard Oil or something, and then the first thing I would know he would be pay- ing commissions and losing his money in some other than ours So I figured I would have to keep my hands on him some- how, and that brought me to thinking about how he had needed more air all of a sudden that afternoon as soon as he office got the flash at our classy lit- tle queen of the keyboard. It looked like I might get some good out of that someway, and I went out to see if Mar- gie was still there and watch ing the clock. ‘Little one,”’ I said t« “anytime you need it, I'll give it out to the public that you her, “7 Can See Now Why You Ain't on the fo Laughing at You That the Police Would Close Up the Show" Stage Page 202 Many People Would Die

Page 18

16 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST T IS probable that fishermen, as a class, are the kindest- hearted persons in the world. They will gladly share their favorite fishing grounds and their fisherman’s luck, which is usuaily bad, with any person who has won their confidence and affection. The more they like a per- son, the readier they are to share their bad luck with him, and all of them have plenty of it to share. Fishing, and trout fishing in particular, is strangely reminiscent of Florida and California climate, in that it is seldom what its adherents wish and expect it to be at any given time. Three weeks ago these things—according to the persons who are in a position to know a great deal about them—may have reached the very apex of perfec- tion. Next month, of course, they may be depended on to be without parallel or blemish. But at the given moment they are almost never correct. The weather in California and Florida is almost invari- ably the hottest or the coldest or the wettest or the driest weather that has been observed by any resident at any time anywhere. Similarly, fish of all sorts in all parts of the country, when fished for, behave in a manner never before observed by the most expert and experienced fish specialists of the neighborhood. Every year they get more and more that way. In the old days a fisherman went out and caught fish. Today he goes out and catches little ex- cept apologies for the unusual manner in which the fish are behaving. If personal observation counts for anything, American fish of all breeds, races and nationalities—with the possible exception of the Japanese double-fan-tailed goldfish— are becoming so morbidly shy that the shrinking sea anemone and the delicate sensitive plant are as tough-hided and impervious by comparison as a piece of hollow tile. Some Ready-Made Excuses for No Fish Mi )DERN fish, for example—as everybody knows who 4% has been taken on a fishing trip by a friend—are violently and usually unpleasantly affected by the wind, the sun, the ripples on the water, the heat, the cold, the rain, the high water, the low water, the humidity, the dryness or the color of the fisherman’s shirt. If the water is slightly discolored by recent rains, they are inclined to reject all bait with the utmost enthusiasm. If the water is crystal clear, then their keen eyes detect the knots in the catgut leader to which the hook is attached and cause them to ignore the bait with passionate contempt. Sometimes it seems to the exasperated fisherman as though the fish were stubbornly determined to withhold their approval from the fairest works of God and man. No authoritative steps have ever been taken to ascertain the reasons for the constantly growing capriciousness and — — ie a Lt oF “*Right Down There,’ Said Bert, in a Tense Whisper, November 6, 1926 WZ bent Sn40s0 a 6, “is a Fine Pool. Last Year I Took Seven Trout Out of That Pool in Less Than Haif an Hour" By KENNET L. ROBERTS CARTOONS BY neuroticism of American fish. Consequently the blame may readily be placed, if desired, on prohibition, or the spiritual unrest that resulted from the war, or the ever- increasing tumult and speed of the jazz and motor age, or what have you. Such steps would doubtless be of great value to civiliza- tion —as valuable, possibly, as the steps that are frequently taken by self-sacrificing scientists in commodious steamers and yachts to investigate the causes of nearsightedness in the viviparous blenny or the prevalence of the itch among the flounder family. It is probable, however, that they will never be taken because of the delusion obtaining among fishermen that whenever they have bad luck it is always infinitely worse than any bad luck they have ever had before or ever will have again. The Faith of True Fishermen OME time ago, in an incautious moment, I set forth through the columns of THE SATURDAY EVENING PosT a terse and veracious narrative concerning the adventures of four optimistic trout hunters who went a-gypsying among the meads and the leas and the brawling brooks and the great North Woods that surround the theoretically fish-filled waters of Canoodlekook Lake, far up along the Canadian border. All in all, it was a sad and depressing tale of high adventure—high, it might be remarked, in the sense that game becomes high when it is hung by the hind legs in a woodshed for three or six weeks in order to gratify an epicure’s slightly warped idea of tooth- someness. It was a tale of fish that wouldn’t bite and of black flies and midges that would; of mat- tresses stuffed with corn husks, old tin cans and worn-out auto- mobile parts; of shower baths that wouldn’t shower and sterling big-hearted guides who forgot the bait and failed to remember to pick up the fish baskets, and couldn’t guide themselves or any- one else to spots where fish could be caught, and otherwise displayed the delightful traits that are occasionally encountered up there among the hon- est, keen-eyed, sure-footed, silent, resourceful men of the great North Woods. Immediately following the publication of this tale of high adventure an army of fishermen in various sections HERBERT JOHNSON of the United States and Canada indignantly took pen in hand to protest against this defamation of their favorite pastime. There were protests from Maine, Florida and California, from Michigan, Arizona and Texas, from New Brunswick and British Columbia, and from sundry inter- mediate points. The tenor of the communications was that one only needed to place himself in the hands of the pro- testers in order to catch all the fish in the world, plus six. One could see from the letters and telegrams that the send- ers knew no more about bad luck than they did about political parties on the lost continent of Atlantis, concern- ing which nobody knows anything at all. Being more or less of an optimist by nature, and being reluctant to dismiss these protests with a cold and heart- less laugh, I took steps to investigate afew of them. Be- ing, furthermore, a New Englander by birth and training, as well as a believer

Page 19

in the encouragement of home industries, I naturally in- clined toward investigating the protests that necessitated the smallest expenditures for train fares and what not. Prominent among the protests had been a verbal protest from my house-building friend Raymond Grant, of Ken- nebunk— who recently attained a certain amount of promi- nence, not to say notoriety, in New England by aiding and abetting Mr. Samuel G. Blythe, the one-handed putting champion of the Pacific Coast, in placing a blue roof on my Kennebunk Beach residence. Raymond had evidently been brooding over my attack on the noble sport of trout fishing for some time, and his indignation reached the bursting point one beautiful May morning while perched at the top of a ladder with a mouth- ful of shingle nails. “Wah wubble wuh wuh wuh wuh wubble wuh wuh wub,”’ said Raymond, glaring down at me darkly. When pressed to be more explicit, he ejected the shingle nails from his mouth and said heatedly, ‘‘I say, the trouble with you is you don’t know where to go. My gorry, there’s as good fishing twenty minutes from here as you’d want to find. My wife went out one afternoon last year and caught eleven in less’n an hour. Bill Stanley, he ketches ’em whenever he wants to. Some day when you want to ketch a good mess, we’ll take and g’wup there and ketch ’em.”’ The upshot of this outburst was that Raymond got down off the roof and went home to get his fishing tackle, taking with him his coworker, Mr. Roger Hill, whose car- pentering services were urgently required in three different places that afternoon. Since he could be in only one of the places, it seemed better to him and to Raymond that he should disappoint everyone in order to demonstrate the fishing resources of the neighborhood. Nice Places for Fish CALLED for them at their homes a little later, and on the way I encountered Mr. Charles Cole, one of our most prominent experts on partridges and wild life in gen- eral. Thinking to balance his fish lore against Raymond's, I questioned him searchingly concerning the best places to fish for trout. ‘Oh, there’s plenty of places to fish around here,” replied Charley genially; ‘lots of pretty nice places—as nice places to fish asanybody’d want tosee. Oh, yes! Sure! Buts’far’s I know, there ain’t any fish in ’em. Heh-heh-heh-heh!”’ Raymond, however, was more sanguine. ‘ Now,” said he briskly, “‘we’ll take and g’wup to Alewive Brook and ” “Heh: Heh:Heh!"’ Said the General. “‘Get Out of the Way and I'tt Catch Another!"’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST fish that—some fellers took a two-pound trout out of there a couple of weeks ago; and then we'll g’wover to Knight's Brook and fish that, and then we'll swing around past Whichers’ and fish Perkins’ Brook down as far as the bridge.’ These things were done as planned. The banks of Al wive Brook were heavily overgrown with willows, arrow grass, thistles, skunk cabbage and a particularly virile form of grass that seemed to have been created for the special purposes of catching tenaciously in the tips of fist ing rods and thrusting itself loosely into the eyes, ears and underwear of angry fishermen whenever they paused to free their fishing-rod tips First Find the Brook OMETHING was wrong with Alewive Brook, in the opinion of Raymond and Roger, for the most diligent and careful fishing failed to uncover any fish. Raymond thought the scarcity of fish was due to the fact that the wind was in the north, while Roger was inclined to blame it on the faintly reddish color of the water. Neither of them seemed inclined to attach any importance to the worn, trampled and moth-eaten spots along the banks of the brook, where vast numbers of citizens had obviously taken their stands for the purpose of luring the wily trout from their chosen haunts. Both of them agreed, however, that neither they nor anybody else had ever experienced such evil luck in Alewive Brook. Consequently the party progressed to Knight’s Brook, which ran for great distances beneath ancient decayed logs and tree trunks, so that it was a simple matter to keep slipping between the logs and falling down with great enthusiasm. Better luck was had in this brook, where Roger caught one small eel and a trout measuring the merest whisker over six inches in length. Great care had to be taken of this trout. It had to be moistened con stantly to prevent the selvage on its tail end from drying The slightest amount of drying would have resulted in the shrinkage of the trout to a lesser length than six inches, and would almost inevitably have embroiled us with the game warden. In spite of this good luck, the brook was harshly maligned by Raymond and Roger, who placed the blame for the paucity of trout on the low water or some- thing. The party then dragged itself wearily but hopefully to the automobile, sped onward five or six miles, parked the automobile by the roadside, walked half a mile over a sandy waste that entered the shoes in large quantities, and de- scended to a marshy tract so %;" heavily overgrown with alders ; that progress through them could It Was Also Mr. Williams’ Contention That if ad Person Can't Catch Trout, He Either Doesn't Know Where te Go or He Can't Catch Them Anywhere be made only by turning one’s back on them, stooping slightly and wriggling one’s self sternly into them The fact that the brook had lost itself in the alders and the swampy ground led to frequent altercations betweer taymond and Roger **Where’s the brook?”’ demanded the first fisherman at intervals “Well, it ought to be right here,”’ the second fishermar stated helplessly, drawing a bottle of citronella from } pocket and dislodging the mosquitoes from his person enough to smear himself with the pungent oil ‘Well, it ain’t!”’ the first declared, sinking to his knees in the swamp and struggling to regain his footing “Wasn't that it you fell into?” the other inquired anx iously. ‘No, it — the first stated. “It was a puddle The party then labored on through the alders, panting and groaning with sufficient violence to frighten all trout within earshot out of several years’ growth ‘*She’s growing wetter,” stated the first fisherman, after falling down heavily and burying his nose, hands, rod and reel in the mud Continued on Page 194

Page 20

HEN M UN IKE THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ID WAS November 6,1926 OUN Rome Begins—By Ff. Britten Austin Hushed Now Were Those Taunts and Insults. Once More the Goddess Was Manifest Among Them HEA, the sacred Virgin, walked austerely beautiful in the procession ascending to the great earthwork place of refuge on the hill known immemorially as the Mons Palatinus. At the head of that procession, her father, the rer, a crown of golden oak leaves on his brow, his face reddened with vermilion even as was reddened the image of mighty Jove, stood spear in hand in the chariot which was his exclusive prerogative —an archaic survival from a forgotten migratory past when horse-taming war- riors had not yet learned to ride as cavalry. Following the solemnly slow progress of that vehicle walked the Flamen Dialis—the semimagician high priest of this primitive community-— wearing, as he must wear, the Jupiter-sacred woolen cap surmounted by an oaken spike, his hair and beard growing long and untrimmed, his garments carefully free from any knot, lest, sympathetically, his powers should thus be curtailed or hindered in their action for the com- mon weal Behind him—clad in white woolen robes so voluminous that a part of them could be and was thrown over the head like a hood, girdled with the rope that bound them in magically effective symbo: to the celibate service of Vesta, goddess of the hearth flame and most ancient of divinities two of the three sacred Virgins—-not yet was their number six, for not yet had infant Rome commenced to absorb conquered tribes—-Rhea and shy little Flavia advanced side by side on the rough track. And behind them stumbled the third—her hood flung back in ignominy from her dark hair, divested of her rope girdle, her white robe torn and deliberately soiled, her hands bound at her back—she who was the cause of this procession; Gaia, who, reckless of the public calamity, had broken her vows. From the waiting throngs of bearded herdsmen, from the women and children who with them had issued from the circular wattled huts, came curses and vituperations. The normal awesome sanctity of the Vestal Virgins, so extreme that the condemned criminal accidentally meeting one of them could not thereafter be slain, had temporarily been destroyed by that guilt. The goddess, whom throughout all the centuries of Rome no man dared to represent by any kind of image, no longer flamed upon her dedicated hearth. The sacred fire had ritually been extinguished, as had been extinguished--amid lamentations from the women—the house fire in every hut. The outraged divinity had been prudently and tactfully exiled from the village, lest in I well-justified wrath she should avenge herself blindly, in ILLUSTRATED BY HENRY J. SOULEN wholesale fashion, for the as yet unexpiated crime. As the inhabitants swarmed up the hillside track in rear of that solemn little proces- sion they exulted vindic- tively over the death which yesterday had been meted out to Gaia’s sacrilegious lover. And now Gaia herself was about to die. Rhea could hear behind her the little convulsive gasps of sick- ened fear, the little, pitiful, hopeless moans, from her who had been the merriest of that triple sacred sister- hood. The poignancy of that human pathos pene- trated Rhea’s heart, even though, in cold religious rec- titude, she strove to exclude the pity it was a crime to admit; very young to die was Gaia. In her own un- troubled chastity of soul, saturated with ancestral be- liefs and practices deriving from far beyond the horizon of her personal life, the frailty of that sister Vestal was at once beyond com- prehension and beyond pardon. Austerely con- scious, with a naive sincerity, of the sacredness she incar- nated was Rhea, the youngest and most beautiful daughter of the rer. Never would she be led home a bride, under the uplifted spear of a newly authoritative bridegroom; never would she know the bliss of motherhood; never to her, as to other maids, would be whispered love vows in shadows cast by the moon. She accepted with a subtle ecstasy that exclusion from the vulgar happinesses of a humanity on a lower plane than herself. Untouchably sacred must be those selected virgins to whose pure guardianship were committed not only the all-important divine communal hearth fire but also the carefully well-filled symbolical store cupboard of the state. Had not the Flamen Dialis, after the pronouncement of the solemn inviolable vows, addressed her, as he addressed each new Vestal, as ‘“‘amata’’—henceforth the set-aside beloved of the goddess, to whom no mortal man might presume? Old stories there were, indeed—she had heard them at her mother’s knee —of Vestal Virgins who had been loved by Mars, the terrible war god, still retaining some of his primitive characteristics as a god of springtide growth, and therefore an appropriate mate for Vesta, goddess of fertility as well as of the household hearth. Such unions were plainly sanctioned, were almost to be expected; for the priestesses of Vesta were, as anciently were the sacred servants of every god, in some sorta vehicle for the deity to whom they were dedicated, and far-off half-legendary kings had been born from them. Often, alone together when the village had relapsed into the silence of night, Rhea, Flavia and Gaia had whispered to each other, half afraid, half yearningly, of the possibility of the great god coming to them as they lay asleep beside the sacred fire. But Gaia’s lover had been young Fabius, the patrician, he who so boldly led bands of his clientes to raid the cattle of the Sabini on the adjacent hill, where Mars was worshiped under the title of Quirinus. Nothing but death for both could expiate that abhorrent sacrilege which endangered the very existence of the community. Nor had Gaia protested. No protest was possible. She had but wept piteously. The procession passed round the sacred clear space out- side the earthwork — Rhea’s grandfather himself had traced its site with the bronze plow drawn by the ritual bullock and the cow—-entered through the single gate the square citadel long remembered as Roma Quadrata. In the center was the femplum, merely the crudely carved vermilion- smeared oaken image of the great god Jupiter, a bedraggled ‘“‘Beware the Vengeance of the Gods to Whom Ambassadors are Sacred! Sacred are the Ambassadors! Back! Back! Or I Smite!" captive eagle —an embodiment of the god—chained to the post. In front of it was the altar on which sacrifices were offered by the rex, himself an incarnation of Jupiter, as- sisted by the Flamen Dialis, who duplicated, though with lesser sanctity, his sacerdotal réle. Otherwise, the great space was empty. Only in time of unfortunate war might the people flock to dwell within the stronghold—the arr, as it was called—which safeguarded the buried symbols magically assuring their political entity. The rex drove his team to the side of the image of the god, sat himself down on the chariot stool—that curule seat which was hereafter to be the ritual throne of the kings, consuls and emperors of Rome. The Flamen Dialis took up his position at the other side of the god, the sacred Virgins adjacent to him. Out in the open Gaia stood pinioned, white-faced, pathetically large-eyed, rigid with anticipatory terror. Spearmen of the rer guarded her not yet had the Etruscan fashion of lictors, with the ax tied in the bundle of rods, been introduced by kings of alien blood. Around the space the tribesmen massed themselves;. the patricii, members of clan-chief families who had participated generations back in that now almost legendary sacred-springtide emigration from the over- crowded parent community of Alba Longa, mirroring itself in the Alban Lake high up in the horizon hills; and the plebs, the multitude of common men who had attached themselves to their leadership. Rhea surveyed that assembly, pafricii and plebs alike, with disdainful eyes. Presently, when the expiatory act was terminated, there would be a renewal of their Vestal sanctity, and the insulting shouts, the now-licensed ir- reverent taunts, would cease. Once more men would shrink back in awe from a contact that would be synonymous with sacrilege and death; once more she and her com- panions would be venerated as the quasi-divine guardians of the all-important sacred flame. Now, however, the tribesmen availed themselves to the full—it was almost ritual that they should do so—of their temporary freedom to scream vituperations. In all that throng that pointed and jeered there was only one small group which stood in seemly silence, their quiet behavior conspicuous by the contrast. It was a group of men garbed in foreign dress, standing respectfully behind a young warrior, superb in a great crested helmet of bronze, a gilt cuirass blazing upon his chest, who was evi- dently a chief. Rhea recognized them. They were an

Page 21

, | it {ui ; } embassy from that strange and comparatively highly civilized people dwelling north of the Tiber—that stili enigmatic people whom we know as Etruscans, but who called themselves Raseni, the settled descendants of pirate raiders from Lydia in far-off Asia Minor. Yesterday had they arrived, and not until the flame of Vesta burned once more upon the hearth of the community would her father, the rer, venture to negotiate with them There was a sudden silence. The expiation ceremony had begun. The Flamen Dialis was intoning an invocation to that indwelling specific spirit of their primitive city whose mysterious secret name— was it Valentia or An- gerona’? —throughout the history of Rome, might never be pronounced, lest enemy magicians should possess them- selves of it and pervert it to her ruin. In front of the oaken image men were digging a grave with pick and spade—the grave into which Gaia would descend alive. Unthinkable was it that sacred blood should be shed; the defaulting Virgin could but be returned to that primevally ancient earth goddess, vaguely confused with a long-buried Great Mother of the infancy of humanity, whose most important functions of fire making and fertility were specialized in their comparative civilization as Mater Vesta. Thus, tech- nically, the Vestal was not slain, and might therefore be buried—as no corpse might be buried— within the walls; with the advantage that henceforth her spirit would haunt them in additional guardianship. Quite practical in their intentions were all the myriad subtleties of primitive religious practice. Deathly white and trembling violently, Gaia stood be- tween the spearmen of the rer. Her wide-open eyes stared fixedly at the diggers, as though she were in a dream, as though she could not believe in the pitiless reality of their purpose. The Flamen Dialis continued to invoke divinities. The grave was finished; the diggers stood aside from it resting on their tools. Majestically the rer descended from his chariot. Draped in his woolen robe, the spear in his right hand, he stood before the image of Jupiter, the father god, hailing him to witness and confirm that potestas of the king—that illimitable life-and-death power of a Roman father over his children—to which alone the Vestal Virgins, immune from every other law, were subject. Rhea stood side by side with Flavia, listening to the sonorous words of the doom pronounced, “according to the custom of our ancestors,’ by that imposingly stern, bearded warrior king whose imperium was absolute. The younger maid—Flavia was not yet quite seventeen gasped hysterically, trying to stifle the irresistible sobs that were not allowed to her; appallingly impious would have been grief at this act which purified the whole community of the guilt with which it had been contaminated. Rhea stood rigid, gripped by the cold-blooded horror of this punishment, which awaited her and Flavia also patria THE SATURDAY EVENING POST should they be faithless to their member the myriad little human their long years of sacred service together, had knitted her life with Gaia’s in a more than humar ) remember only the vows, trying not to re intimacies scientiously forcing herself t enormity of that crime for which there was no par which her own shocked sacred purity could not even ex tenuate. In a shuddering fascination she found herself staring at the victim, already virtually severed from the mmunit of human life, staring and wondering at the sensatior ! imaginably awful behind that dead-white countenance which strained forward, the jaw chattering, in a last ag of yet briefly retained existence. The rer turned from the image of the god, raised his spear. From the multitude came a great acquiescent shout: “‘More majorum!”’ Ina sudden overwhelming, almost physical, revulsion Rhea averted her eyes from the doomed girl even as the ex ecutioners approached her. She desperately, onl; vivid blue sky as, pressing her lips tightly together, she heard the wild despairing shriek that were suddenly half smothered, and then suddenly ceased. The dreadful deed was done beneath the stamped-down earth, a new Vestal each of the three primitive tribal divisions of the earliest Roman people must have its representative at the com- munal hearth—had been chosen by the Flamen Dialis The little white-garbed maid-—she was not yet ter years of age, as immutable sacred custom decreed horted by him in solemn adjuration, had with childishly quavering voice pronounced her vows of perpetual inno- had ritually "the beloved of the goddess. Rhea and Flavia had received her with the ritual kiss, the sentimental Flavia now weeping unrestrainedly while she did so. And then, once more, the sacred fire had been rekindled in the prescribed manner. As the senior of the Sacred Virgins—for nearly ten years now had she served the god- it was Rhea who knelt to hold upon the ground the little plank of soft lucky wood in which a small hole had already been prepared. Within that hole the Dialis, to the accompaniment of mystic invocations, rapidly twirled a rod of harder wood until the plank smoked and burst into flame, even as, incomputable ages earlier, men had first learned the trick of making fire. That kindled plank had been put into a bronze sieve, and its first feeble flames fed with the oak chips which were, sacredly, Jupiter himself. Amid the enthusiastic joy of the multitude Rhea rose to her feet, lifted that bronze sieve high above her head, so that all might see the smoke curling from it. Then, still holding it high, she commenced to walk around the as- sembly, the procession forming itself anew behind her. Saw, the succession of shrieks In place of Gaia, vanished since had been ex cence, been addressed as ‘“‘amata”’ dess Flamen was Hushed now were t e taumt goddess was manifest among then ( were inexpressi! sacred A murr na wave of subdued sound round with their passage and men, wome thems¢ é é rn going down t fore wit ead thrown bac and white arn e smoking sieve, preceded beaut r two companions chanting the litar ever her eyes swept over that multitude t lenly averted faces; children and womer e fiercest of the bearded warriors, raisir turning their heads in the awed gesture for none might, at close quarters, dirt now especiaily intense sacredness as the dess herself She approached the little group wi hhlhiy ‘ qd Dlue sky nat superb y mense stone hou y lhe sun flast nis face went str a moment, as he turned his head toward her. He r fused-—she perceived it with a shock of incredulous indis nation—that respectful gesture of the head and hand which was universal around him, stood ently erect staring straight at her. She saw—she could not help but ses dark-eye thin-nused, clean-shaven countenance, handsome as tha of a god; saw it with a queer little spasm of superstitior for of divine race also were, notor e chieftains of that alien, hostile people, skilled above peoples ir strange magics. Young he was, tall, and athlet built, splendidly audacious as, from the flashing cence of his accouterments, he contemplated her ately. Even with such arrogance—the thought darted int her outraged amazement might dare to stand the invul nerable god of war himself. With an effort she took her , the great bronze helmet a king who oung man Who was their « to the northws dwelt se, amid an incredible from that great crested aight in her eyes, aimos ef saw, dazzlingly reflecting the suns t helmet dees t blinded her f momentarily fascinated eyes from his face insol did so, his stra I “Ho, Virgin! dare the fate of iover She passed on shock which was as though the divine lightning through her; tread; almost sh the smoking presence of the goddess. Inst: there was uproar ent voice come at her ge accent, but speaking her own tor he cried “Fair thou thy sister Vesta benal ler n silence; | suddenly e let fall the sacred sieve Continued on Page i74 Surety Greater Warrior Never Lived! Nobly Did He Incarnate the God of Rome p gue art heard, as she juant wit! seeing nothing in that had sped the leveled ground seemed uneven to her now warm wit t behind her

Page 22

20 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST I Je fl IR T WAS alittle spot, that fear, but it had ached in his heart for months—-ever since his first solo flight at Upavon Airdrome. It had come suddenly one morning like the clean, pink hole of a steel jacketed bullet—a wound to be ashamed of—a wound to fight against—a wound that never quite healed. Always it was there to throb and to pinch like the first faint gnawing of cancer. It came with him to the theater and rankled his mind: “Enjoy this-——it may be your last play.”’ It crept into his throat at meals sometimes, and took away the poor savor that was left to the foods of wartime. The fear of the men who fly. Sometimes he pictured it as an imp—an imp that sat eternally on his top plane and questioned him on the strength of rudder wires, pointed to imaginary flaws in struts, suggested that the petrol was low in the tank, that the engine would die on the next climbing turn. It was with him now as the tender that was to take him up to his squadron jolted and bounced its way across the pavé on the outskirts of Amiens. The squadron was the last place he had to go to. All the months that were gone had led up to this. These were the wars at last. This was the place he would cop it, if he was to cop it at all. He shrugged. Anyway, he had had his four days in London and his ten days idling at Pilot’s Pool before the squadron sent for him. He braced one shoulder against the rattling seat and reached in his tunic pocket for a cigarette. Mechanically he offered one to the driver. The man took it with a grubby finger. “Thankee, sor-r.”’ He nodded and lighted both cigarettes with the smudge of his pocket lighter. Anyway, he was not flying up to 44. That was one flight saved. Funny, that fear—how it came and went like the throb of a nerve in an open tooth. Some- times the spot was large, and filled his whole being; then again it would shrink to a dull ache, just enough to take the edge from the beauty of the sunrise and the sparkle from the wine of the moon There had been a time when it had jumped in every fiber of his soul. He had been a cadet officer then, with only twelve solo hours in the air, under the old rough-and- tumble system of learning to fly. Spinning at that time was an unsolved mystery to him, a ghastly mystery that had meant quick death in a welter of blood, flecked with splinters. Fred MeCloud had gone that way, and Johnny Archamboult. For weeks afterward, Johnny’s screams had rung in his ears like a stab of pain, until the mere smell of petrol and fabric dope made the fear craw] into his throat and strangle him. Somehow he had kept on November 6,1926 JAMES WARNER BELLAH & & &@€ Ft FPF 2 FF 2 ®@ Ss 7 with the rest, under the merciless scourge that lashed one on to fly—and the worse fear of seeing cold scorn in the eyes of the men who taught the lore of thin cloud miles. The tender twisted and dodged along the hard mud ribbon that ran like a badly healed cicatrix across the pock-searred face of the fields. Gnarled and bleak, they were fields that had held the weight of blood-crazed men still held them in unmarked graves, where they had fallen the year before under the steel flail. He had heard stories from his older brother about those fields—the laughing brother who had gone away one day and returned months later without his laugh, only to go away again, not to come back. He had seen pictures in the magazines — But somehow no one had caught their utter bleakness as he saw it now. The riven boles of two obscene trees crouched and argued about it on the lead-gray horizon, tossing their splintered arms and shrieking, he fancied, like quarreling old women in the lesser streets of a village. Close to the roadway, there was a torn shoe and a tin hat flattened like a crushed derby. Poor relics that even salvage could see no further use in. Farther off, a splintered caisson pointed three spokes of a shattered wheel to the sky, like a muti- lated hand thrown out in agony. He was seeing it for himself now. No one could smile at the cleanness of his uniform again and say, ‘Wait till you get out. When I was in France ’’ He was out himself now. In a day or so he would go over the line with loaded guns. His instructors at the training ’drome—thin-jawed men with soiled rib- bons under their wings—had done no more, and some of them had done less. The thought braced him somewhat. They had seemed so different—so impossible to imitate those men. Their war had always been a different one from his; a war peopled with vague, fearless men like Rhodes-Moorehouse and Albert Ball and Bishop, the Canadian; men who flew without a thought for them- selves. It occurred to him with a start that theirs was the same war as his now. Twenty-five miles ahead of him, buried somewhere in rat runs, between Bapaume and Cambrai, it went on and on, waiting for him to come—waiting to claw and maim and snuff him out when he did come. It had seemed so far away from him in England. When he was at ground school he had seen it as a place where one did glo- rious things—he was young, pitifully young—a place that one came back from with ribbons under one’s wings, with nice clean scratches decently bandaged. And he had been slightly offended at his brother’s attitude —at the things his A & 8 & B H E WN - & F&F © The Weeks Crawiled On Stowly. Paterson Feit Like a Man Climbing a Steep Lad: der. Each Day Was a Rung Behind Him. Each New Rung Showed an Infinite Number Still Ahead, Waiting for Him to Go On oe “ ‘ade My ie) orate 11a P.. brother had said of thestaff. Then he had gone to Up- avon tolearn to fly. He had soloed for the first time, and the spot of fear had crawled into his own heart. They were rattling into the broken streets of a tottering town; a town that leered at them and grimaced through blackened gaps in its once white walls. There was a patched-up estaminet with a tattered yellow awning that tried bravely to smile. “Albert,” said the driver. The new pilot nodded. Some sapper officers were loiter- ing in the doorway of the café. Their uniforms were faded to a rusty brown and reénforced with leather at the cuffs and elbows. Their buttons were leather, too, to save pol- ishing, and their badges were a dull bronze. He looked down at his white Bedford-cord breeches and the spotless skirts of his fur-collared British warm—privileges of the flying corps that men envied. Baths, clean clothing and better food. The P. B. I.’s idea of heaven. They called flyers lucky for their privileges and cursed them a little bit for their dry beds and the wines they had in their messes, miles behind the line. The new pilot wondered if they knew what it meant to be alone in the stabbing cold with no one to talk to, no one to help you, nothing between you and the ground save a thin, trembling fabric of cloth and wire and twenty thou- sand feet of emptiness. That was his fear—emptiness nothingness—solitude. Those men under the awning could die in company. Not so himself—alone, screaming into the cloud voids, with no one to hear, no one to help, staring with glazed eyes and foam-flecked lips at the emptiness into which one hurtled to death miles below. The price one paid for a bath! He remembered seeing Grahame-White fly at Southport before the war. People had called him an intrepid aviator. The new pilot laughed harshly inside his throat and stared out across the bare fields. The car topped a slight rise and turned sharply to the left. The driver pointed his grubby finger. ‘‘They be comin’ in from affernoon patrol,’’ he said. ‘‘ Yonder is airdrome.”’ There were three flat canvas hangars painted a dull brown, and a straggling line of rusty tin huts facing them from across the narrow landing space—like a deserted mining village, shabby and unkempt. As he watched, he saw the last machine of the afternoon patrol bank at a hundred and fifty feet and side-slip down for its landing. In his heart he could hear the metal scream of wind in the flying wires. A puff of black smoke squirted out in a torn stream, as the pilot blipped on his engine for one more second before he came into the wind and landed. By the time the tender rolled up to the dilapidated squadron office, the machine had taxied into the row of hangars and the pilot was out, fumbling for a cigarette with his un- gloved hands. A thin acrid smell of petrol and carbon- ized castor oil still hung in the quiet air between the shabby huts. Snow in large wet flakes commenced to fall slowly, steadily.

Page 23

The new pilot climbed down from the tender, tossed his down the dark passageway, with Paterson after him. Pres- and forget the rest. If you want to know anything, come shoulder haversack beside his kit bag and pushed open the ently he pushed back another door and yanked at a tat to me and I'll tell you as well as rm re et door of the squadron office. The adjutant was sitting on tered window curtain months. When I came, | came his desk top, smoking and talking to someone in a black The new pilot saw a tiny room, with two washstands, a pucka green and afraid to the marr leather flying coat and helmet—someone an oil- cot, a folding chair and a cracked mirror. In a corner were tainty. You get over that st streaked face and fingers still blueand clumsy fromthecold. his kit bag and haversack. He pulled out his own cot and “O ir job is a funny one, and we're ‘ “Paterson, sir, G. K., second lieutenant, reporting in chair and set them up; meanwhile Hoyt threw himself and we’re not here to be heroes or to g from Pilot’s Pool for duty with the 44th.” down on the other cot and let his cigarette smoke dribble The V. C.’s are few and far betwee He raise The adjutant raised a careless finger in acknowledgment. straight upward into the gloom of the pine-raftered roof. upon his elbow. “I’m not preaching self-abasement y, “Oh, yes. How do? Bring your log books? Presently he spoke greater loyalty to a cause that is right, r t “Yes, sir.” “This is a queer war,”’ he said; ‘“‘full of queer things, know anything about causes or who started the war “Chuck ’em down. D’ye mind?” and the queerest of these is charity.”” He laughed in the and I don’t I’m preaching C Flight and the ‘ Paterson laid them upon the desk top, still standing to darkness, and the tip of his cigarette became suddenly pink _ five men attention. The adjutant smiled. ‘Break off,’ he said. as he drew the smoke into his lungs. “‘What was your ‘You saw Mallory over at the hangar. It was tean ‘““We're careless here. This isn’t cadet school.” school?” work that put him there in his own M. 0.’s hands. N The new pilot smiled and relaxed. ood, sir.”’ ““Winchester,”’ said Paterson much perhaps’’—the cigarette described a quick ar: “That’s better,” said the adjutant; ‘‘makes me feel “Right,”’ said Hoyt. “‘Remember your first day? This the darkness—“‘just a slight closing in of the format 1h| more comfortable. Just give me a note of yourself now.”’ is it over again. They’ve fed you up on poobah at your a wave of somebody’s hand—somebody else dropping » He reached for a slip of paper. ““G. K. Paterson, Two Lt. training ’drome and down at the Pool. They always do. back and climbing above him to protect his tai! from \) Next of kin?” Paterson gave his father’s name. “Age?” It’s part of the system. Just take it for what it is worth any stray Huns that might've waylaid him on the way i “ Fighteen and four-twelfths.”’ home. That's what I mean. ‘Esprit 14 ‘*Good!’’ said the adjutant. de corps’ isa i, hard phrase. Ca f ““You’ll find an empty cubicle in B t what you like It’s the greatest f Block— that’s the middle line of huts. lesson you learn. Never give uj \ You're lucky. Roof only leaks in man.”” Hoyt laughed y ca 1 three places. I'll have your duffel me an old womar Perhaps I am i trekked over shortly.” Take it or leave i The man in the flying coat blew “Slick up a bit and come into n upon his numbed fingers and smiled. hutch while I scrape off the oute " “I’m Hoyt,” he said. “Skipper of layer of silt. Dinner in half a ticl C Flight. I’m going to take you now, and I'm as filthy as a pig.” He before A gets after you.”” He turned vaulted up fr m the cot and punched NY to the adjutant. ‘“‘That’s all right, iis cigarette it against the le y isn’t it, Charlie? Tell ’em I intimi- his boot. At the door he paused { i| dated you.”” He grinned a moment The adjutant shrugged. “Ever have wind he “Righto!” casually **Come on,” said Hoyt. “I’m in Paterson stiffene against t your hut block. I'll show you your question and the small spot of fe hole.” danced within him No,” he sa They went out into the snow firmly Hoyt shrugged ‘Lucky flurry. Mechanics were fussing in man.”” And he went out int little knots around the five tiny ma- chines that had just landed, lining them up, refilling them and trundling them into the brown musty hangars. “‘Le Rhéne Camels,” said Hoyt. ‘*We’ve just been over around Cam- brai taking a look-see.”’ Inside one of the hangars, as they passed, Paterson saw something that drew a thin, wet gauze across his eye- balls. On a rough bench just beside the open flap sat a man with his eyes closed and his lips drawn tightly into a straight bluish line. His flying coat was rolled up behind his head for a pillow, and his tunic had been unbut- toned and cut away from his left shoulder. The white of his flesh showed weirdly in the gloom, like the belly of a dead fish. Just below the shoulder, the white was crumpled and reddened as if a clawed paw had been drawn across it. One man was holding his other hand, while another probed and cleaned and dabbed with little puffs of snowy cotton that turned quickly to pink and then to a deep brown. Hoyt shrugged. ‘‘Lucky man. That’s Mallory. He was Number Four this afternoon. We never saw a thing. Just happened. Funny.” And he smiled. ‘‘That’s why I was so keen to get you. Can't tell how long it will be before Mallory gets around again, and I’ve got one va- cancy in the flight already.”’ He shrugged. ‘‘ You'll see a lot of that here— get used to it. It doesn’t mean a thing as long as you get back alive.” | Paterson looked at him sharply. He wanted to ask him how many didn’t get back alive. He wanted to know what had caused the other va- cancy inthe flight. But people didn’t | ask those things. People merely nodded casually and went on. “I suppose not,” he said. They tramped on across the airdrome. “‘Here we are,’ said Hoyt. He kicked open the hut door and groped THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Suddenty, Out of the Corner of His Eye, He Saw P-«B Shove His Nose Full Down and Throw Himself Into a Straight Dive for the Decoy Bus passageway At dinner he met the rest of the squadron and the other men in ( Flight. Mallory, very pale, wit! arm slung in a soft pad of |} sat beside him. They were coming for him later to take him down to the base hospital. Phelps-Barrineton sat on the other side of Mallor mourning the fact that the wou was not his, that he might get the inevitable leave to follow Phe Barrington took Paterson’s hand with a shrug and asked how Mar guerite was in Amiens. ‘“‘What? You didn’t meet Marguerite on your Struth!”’ MaceClir ” way throug! tock sat across the table be le Hoyt— MacClintock, too young t grow a mustache, but with a dee] burr that smelled the Highlands and under his Seafortt like the corded roots of other man in the down with mild flu 1“ back in a week or so fro There was a wild . about the dawn patrol the next j morning. Paterson listened to the fragments of talk that flew lik € saper cuts across the giasses “‘He’s in a red tripe. I don’t give a damn for Intelligence Saw him this morning myself. Same ma chine Mac and I had that brush with down at Péronne “The next time they'l! get an idea for us to strafe a road clear to Co logne forthem. What are we—street cleaners?” “So I let go a cove. f Coopers and turned for home. They had it spotted for a hatte: ver at 119 Squadron. I saw the pictures. Right pictures, but wrong map squares as usual. That crowd can’t tell a bat tery from a Chinese labor-corps ir closure. I'd rather be a staff officer than a two-seater pilot (Continued on Page 62

Page 24

22 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 PRE YOU FYIND Lar aa oueie Ace ‘ ee Dog Teams and Airplanes Were Often Side by Side in Last Year's Rush to Red Lake, Ontario HE good ship Prospector, I confessed that I hadn't. But “pai od j brigh zold colors C f IR | cS Cay Martin shuffled closer. ‘‘S: hg gy 0 ee ct asa BY our mey y ey ooper * nienind. i. redid of a to further enhance its name, was churning enthusiastically at a pinch of snuff under a lip, “it’s funny ten-mile-an-hour speed along the how it gets you. At first you talk to broad waters of Lac Seul in North- beat all get out—talk about every- thing; how you're going to find the greatest vein of gold ore in the world, how still everything is in the bush and what you’ll do if the bush takes fire—that’s always good for a lot of conversation. Then there are the flies to cuss, and the rain. But after while, you don’t talk so much, and you just slap at the flies instead of cussing ‘em. By and by you don’t talk at all. Finally it gets so bad that when you come back to civilization you've for- gotten how to find things to make talk; that part of your brain just seems to’ve stopped working, and you're like those two old boys over there. They’re sure bushed, ain’t they?”’ “They sure are,”’ chuckled the other prospector, then shrugged his shoul- ders. ‘‘ Me,” he exclaimed, “laughing , j : ‘ 2 thile |’ still carrvi sien Back From the Bush : at them, while I’m still carry ing this Prospectors Outfitting at a Hudson's Bay Post if anything should happen in the western Ontario, bound from the boom mining camp of Pine Ridge to the equally boom-inspired town of Hudson and civilization. In the pas- sengers’ quarters, where were crowded some fifteen men, a stolid cook stum- bled over the legs and feet which seemed to protrude from every direc- tion, and in revenge, now and then caused a disruption of the entire party, he opened the lids of the long benches which served as seats that he might extract therefrom the necessi- ties of ameal. Thereby he evoked loud protests of feigned indignation from the human cargo, delighted at any excuse to while away a few moments out of eleven hours of monotony that is, from all the cargo save two. bush!” f yeey had not spoken a word all day, from the embarkment at dawn | on through the long dragging hours } A Prospector’s Friend which had ensued along the 120 miles of waterway journey. Not a word to E PULLED a bottle from his anyone; two gray-haired, thin- pocket, once garishly adorned featured men who looked about them with red letters and bold-faced ad- monitions. The label was nearly black now from constant carrying. The letters were blurred from perspiration and rain, still faintly, however, carry- ing their warning: with starved eyes, who read omnivor- vusly every scrap of ancient magazine or newspaper which came their way, who eavesdropped on all conversa- tions, pretending meanwhile to be any- thing but listening; yet two men who spoke not, even in spite of the piteous eyes of them, saying that which the lips could not utter— the joy of human companionship, the surfeiting of a desire for their kind, dazed, now that they were again among humans, with newspapers and magazines from which PRUSSIC ACID POISON! The prospector held it in contem- plation. “A mighty gvod friend to have in the bush,” he said at last. “‘If you're alone, and something happens, you at least know you can shut down they might learn what that vague CTS Mica aE So Sag. See on the suffering.” thing, the world, I ad been doing all "PHOTO. BY COURTESY Be mony ory eis nidiin Gelinas ak tb bd Bebe After that, he changed the sunject. the time they had been away Men who search for gold like to keep ‘*Queer pair,’’ I said to the before them the lure of the thing sparkling-eyed little Cornishman at which sends them into the wilds, and my side. Cap Martin, follower of half a hundred gold At this, another seeker of gold moved nearer. “Not not what might happen during the journey. The pros- rushes, from Colorade to Australia and back again, grinned _crazy,”’ he suggested in a low voice. “‘Just dumb. Now pector’s life, no matter in what region he may work, is genially. that they’re out here, they don’t know anything to talk not an easy one. In the new gold fields of Canada, now “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve been that way my- about. They’ve probably been in a bush a long time. being explored, it is even more difficult than ordinarily. s-lf bushed, you know.” Nothing to see but bush. Nothing to talk about but the One often is prone to judge all prospectors by the Bushed?”’ bush. Ever been in the bush for a year or so atastretch?” half-crazed, easily deluded creature which one finds, the

Page 25

hang-over of a deserted mining camp, aged, ill fed, worse clothed and still ranting in his cracked vcice that “them hills is still full of gold, pardner.”’ Therefore all prospectors must be like these. But it is not true; another generation has come since these men found gold; a different genera tion from that more leisurely one which existed in the past True, there are still prospectors who follow the will-o’- the-wisp, enduring every hardship, for the simple reason that to them it is an easy form of life-—a camp in the bush, three months of livelihood on a grubstake and the report of failure is the ruse of more than one. But the main body is composed of a type entirely distinct, especially in a land where even a camp in a bush for a month or three months is enough of a hardship in itself, and where prospecting for precious metals demands, among other things, that a man be willing to risk his life. Yet to a certain type and group of men, that is what gives the life its zest. The lure of far places, the defeating of natural obstacles which seem to rise on every side. Some men climb mountains for excitement, some race auto- mobiles, knowing that there may be a spill in any lap; some like airplanes and some like to be prospectors. The average prospector has no foolish ideas about his chances of riches. Of course, there is always the hope, but the candid gold hunter will tell you that one man out of 200 stands a chance of striking it rich in a lifetime. Thus they pursue their course in the Northern bush, some to win and many to lose, even to the greater stake. Now and then a wanderer of the bush halts in his slow journey through the tangled wilds, and releasing the terrific weight on his back, brings forth his spade that he may cover with earth the miserable little heap of bones that once had been a man. A Dearth of Prospectors TRANGELY enough, however, the fact that now and then a man dies in the bush is not by any means the reason that there is now an acute shortage of prospectors in those vast areas of Quebec, of Ontario and Manitoba where lie gold, silver and copper fields of unknown riches. In fact, the hardships of the bush are the last thing that a gold seeker really THE SATURDAY EVENING POST there, and was just thinking about staking out a claim, ', when along came my partner on afreight train and began waving to me “*Come on!’ he yelled ‘Make arun for it and catch this train! Grab your pack sack! We're going to stop for water about a quarter mile down. You can make it if you hurry.’ “*What’s the rush?’ I yelled back ‘*** Big strike down the line about 100 miles. Bigger’n anything we've run into yet Come on!’ “So I ditched my claim and pretty near broke my back carrying that pack sack down the track on a dogtrot to catch that train. Well, when we got over there, we staked some ground and were getting ready to do our assessment work, when word came along of this Rouyn excitement. So we just let where the Pre-( mbriar r ke f the mat € ft} rt} nvt vy of e ea ig ore t ma r Therefor y ‘ over gi Now - minute tnere 4 ‘ delay —ar t ‘ re . vueoh prost tore ¢t enoug pr pe Pre-Cambrian Rock { pe statement is made without even an accurat« dea of just how many mer now are set k ng gold n Car ada. Some put the 5000, others at double that estimate, for though tl prospector must have a ] ense before ne can stake ground, there are many wh prefer to find their gold first wnelr l cense late I But even were there 10 or 20,000, it would not be possible thoroughly to scour things slide at the old place the Pre-Cambrian rock and came over here. That's A Prospector With His Pack the new north in a space the way it goes.”’ eve 2 few year For one As it ever has gone when gold has called. There isan old thing, the time in which a man may prospect during a y¢ saying among miners and prospectors that silver lies in a_ is short. For another, the Province of Ontario al vein, but gold’s where you find it—meaning, of course, that strange though it may seem from its eastern location, cor there is no set rule which can be followed for the discovery tains by 50,000,000 acres more ur ipied land than ci of that metal, and it is impatient ence even its possible be found in all of Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, Arizona, New whereabouts have been discovered. Canadian geologists Mexico, Idaho, Colorado and Montana combined. Yet have indicated that practically all the north country of Ontario, Manitoba and Quebec is a potential gold field, we who call ourselves well informed have a habit of refer ring to those states as the great open spaces From this it might be inferred that one can go into practically any part thinks about. That part seems to be an instinctive knowledge, to be combated as a part of this great game of hide and seek. The real cause of the shortage lies in the fact that riches in the form of min- erals are the most impatient form of wealth existent. Other things may wait, but not gold. “T’ve got to go back to the Port Arthur district some of these days,” said a prospector to me as we sat upon the rough-hewed steps of a log-slabbed café in the copper-gold camp of Rouyn, Quebec, one day. ‘I think maybe I might’ve missed something over there. You see, I’ve got a partner and he’d been over in Manitoba. Well, this dis- trict around Beardmore, just east of Port Arthur, is right along the railroad. I'd found some pretty good-looking stuff 500,000 square miles of territ ry in the gold regions of the North and find pa ore. That is far from the fact. It PM simple matter to be misleading in any kind of recital of the ore-bearing poss bilities of a country, especially if that country be new and unprospected, whict is the case with about 90 per cent of the land which may in the future yield riches It is true that a great part of this country is underlain with Pre-Cambrian rock which happened along with the formation of the world; true also that from the Pre-Cambrian rock can come wealth in various forms—it seems to have been a sort of melting pot for all sorts of minerals. But it is also true that a great part of the Pre-Cambrian isn't mineral-bearing at all, contenting itself Continued on Page 185 A Money Mart in Pine Ridge, Ontario Above —Cap Martin, Follower of Half a Hundred Gold Rushes, Returning to Civilization by Packet Boat, After a Prospecting Tour Which Began in the Winter of 1925-26 The Town Bakery of Pine Ridge, Ontario

Page 26

HERE is a world of wise talk in Chet McAusland. He is a man by any ordinary standard past the fullness of life; yet few lives are as full as his of sane thought and sensible pleasure, and a philosophic re- fusal to be concerned with the useless utilities of living. He has moved through the world with his eyes open, con- templating, appraising and remembering. I know few men whose convictions are so solidly founded upon actu- ality. He believes the things he sees or hears or surely knows; toward all else is incred- ulous, or even controversially inclined. When his conclusions are unsound it is because his understanding does not embrace all aspects of the matter; or it is because of a curious trait of his: The lack of any sense of time as a flowing stream, the inability to remember that yesterday must be considered gone, today a matter altogether new. For this habit of his mind al- lowance must be made, a dis- count must be charged. One learns that if Chet says a thing is true he but means that it was, on one occasion which he witnessed, true; it is hard ¢o convince him that the times may change. For example: Once upon a time I appeared at the farm on the hill above Frater- nity with a canoestrapped to the top of my car. With it we could explore hidden streams and marshy waters in the late Sep- tember quest for duck. He mis- doubted the wisdom of trusting ourselves to this canoe; gave his reason plain. “There was an Indian once up at the pond,” he assured me bodingly, ‘‘and his canoe tipped over not five rod from shore, and he got tangled in the grass and drowned right there. A good swimmer too. When they found him the grass had cut right into his arms and legs, he’d fought it so. That’s what a canoe will do to you.” I pointed out that this was years ago. ‘Well, I paddled a birch-bark canoe once, on the river over at Frankfort, when I was a boy,” he insisted. ‘And it ducked right out from under me and I near drowned.” This, too, I urged, was ancient matter; nor relevant, since the canoe here upon my car was of prosaic wood and anvas, built for wear and for stability. “Well,” he conceded at last, ‘‘an old man told me once whenever you go out in a canoe just take a line and fasten yourself to it. Just a light line from the gunwale to your belt; and then if you tip out you've got that to hang onto. The wind nor the current can’t carry it away before you come up.” We agreed upon this compromise and later experience made him to some small extent tolerate our use of the craft, then tolerance waned, became enthusiasm, and one night when we were paddling toward the car with a black duck tucked in the bow he said over his shoulder: “You know, with this canoe I can take you where you can get the best trout you ever saw. Next spring.” We nosed beneath !ow-hanging alders, threaded a nar- row channel where meadow grass overhung on either side; the sky was crimson, the day draining into the west. “Where?” I asked softly, for the evening was still. “You remember that cover down under the ridge where I showed you the grave of the Revolutionary soldier, when your father was with us last fall.”” He knew I did; waited for no assent. “‘There’s a marsh below there that the brook runs through, and a pond— Moose Pond, they call it. A cow moose bogged there once and couldn’t get out. All quaking bog it is, and a man can’t cross only when it’s froze up tight. But there’s a spring hole in the brook. We can put the canoe in at the bridge and go down through, maybe two miles, right to it.” Three black ducks, whistling downstream, towered to pass above our heads, their pinions beating; they slipped THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HE EFTEST Uncte Joe Drove Up in His Buggy Behind His Stow Olid Farm Horse; and a Three-Year:Oid Setter Dog Sat on the Seat Beside Him past and were gone like a thought, too swift for catching. A muskrat slapped the water in the reach ahead of us, div- ing to safety there. “‘Trout in the spring hole?”’ I asked. “My cousin, Ned McAusland, went in there with a skiff,” Chet told me. ‘He fished less’n two hours and he took out the finest string of trout ever carried into Union Village. Twenty-two of them, and the smallest one weighed over a pound. And we can go there next spring any day at all.” Even though I knew his failing my blood faintly tingled. Yet—‘‘ When was that?”’ I asked, and he replied straight- forwardly: “It was in May; maybe the middle—no, more toward the end of May. I don’t know but it was the first week in June, but I think it was toward the end of May, 1874 ——”’ Thus it is not wise to build upon Chet’s statements until you have pinned a date to them. He took me once to fish the Fiscal Meadow; told of the glories of the trout there; walked me into the ground; left me, a limp, chafed and quivering rag of a man, in a tangle of swamp growth, while he pushed tirelessly on; came back to confess that the brook was changed. And when I asked, he said that it was twenty years since last he fished these waters. I am wiser now; I ask him: “‘ When?” And, even if the dates be satisfactory, I do not always accept his wisdom without question. There is a world of wise talk in Chet, oer ILLUSTRATED November 6, 1926 By Ben Ames Williams Be J; CLINTON SHEPHERD but you must winnow it for yourself, for some of it is not so wise. In the matter, for instance, about to be set down, there will be many an opinion; there will be many to disagree with him, few who will openly agree. The tale is in its essence reprehensi- ble; it must be presented with apologies; if it has a moral, each man may determine for himself. But there is, perhaps, some- where a certain glamour in the matter; acertain glory; the glow and drumbeat of a courage, cool and quiet, of the sort called valorous. On the whole, no doubt, a highly immoral tale, daring to suggest that sober and ascetic virtue may be, after all, but the weakness of a coward. This introduction is devious and wandering and with no point at all, but many of Chet’s tales are of this fashion. Sometimes, to assemble the whole matter, it is necessary to cast to and fro, selecting a passage here, a word there, an anecdote at noontime beside the brook, a dissertation at evening across the table; to gather all the rays of light that may illumine the affair, and focus them, from their divergent sources, upon the current page. The fact that Chet lacks a sense of time has no real bearing on the story to be told, except that for Chet, though the thing ex- tended over years, it stands as a single and related whole. Time is perhaps a unity of less impor- tance than may be supposed. Or perhaps time is not a matter of minutes and hours and days, but of lives, of cycles, of empires and of ages without end. If,that which we do at sixteen may determine that which we do at sixty, then perhaps there is nosuch thing as time at all; perhaps eternity is now. However—having exposed the hollowness of the word, it can do no harm to use it—it is time to speak of Uncle Joe Deal. One of the bonds between me and Chet is that we both have a sneaking liking for dogs. Whenever we forgather there are dogs about our heels, and whenever we talk to- gether we speak of dogs, and whenever we talk about dogs soon or late Chet is sure to speak of Old Job—Old Job that was Old Tantrybogus. That tale has been written heretofore, and this was written there: A Rockland man came one October for the woodcock shooting. He and Chet found sport together and found—each in ths other—a friend. The Rockland man had fetched with him a she dog of marvelous craft and from her next litter he sent a pup to Chet. In honor of the giver Chet called the dog Job. The giver was Uncle Joe Deal, but when Chet named him to me at the time I paid no great heed; heard his name as Job instead of Joe. The name Job for the dog developed, it appeared, as a matter of euphony. The giver was Uncle Joe Deal. Later, at odd times, I found that this man came more and more into Chet’s talks with me. I knew they had been friends; but I came to know at length that for years they hunted together every fall, fished together in the brooks in spring and summer, even once went sea-bird shooting on the ledges at the mouth of the bay. While Old Job was alive and Chet lived as a bachelor on the farm above the village, Uncle Joe Deal used to like to come and spend a day or two with him. If the season fitted, they hunted or they fished; if not, they but sat and talked together, finding that rich pleasure only to be found in such grave and warm communion. And little by little there was built up in the background of my thoughts a picture of this Uncle Joe Deal.

Page 27

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Hie was older than Chet. Dead, I knew, some years touch it any more.”” So I wondered a little ho e and But there wa at nig j agone, and an old man before he died. Chet always spoke Uncle Joe spent their long evenings at the farn The hour drew or twa ) of him as old, yet it appeared casually one day that he was “Well, he’d have a little,’’ Chet conceded, ‘‘a some- Yet at other times ar ‘ not, in years, much older than Chet himself. He was, for times I'd take a drink with him mar e kille instance, a boy of fifteen when he enlisted in the war of the But Uncle Joe, he told me, was a steady and pe stent tridge and neverr eda 60’s, and Chet at that time was near ten. And once I drinker. ‘Only it never seemed to make any difference ir ‘There were ee of us g asked Chet why he always spoke of Uncle Joe as old, and him,” he explained. “He was a big man big as you and _ plained, ‘“‘and he'd stand wa Chet said doubtfully: bigger—and he'd get a little red, and maybe a little s er off, and he never shot at “Well, he’d lived hard.” in the way he talked, but that wasall. We’dsit hereby the missed. And then he'd swing I had, by glimpses, some indication of the hardness of stove ii ten-gauge gun, and he'd ki this living. Uncle Joe was a widower when Chet first came Chet was his own cook and housekeeper in those days. you.” to know him, and it appeared that he was a drinking man. ‘“‘I used to fry up a batch of doughnuts,” he told me, “and Or he would quote to me, when I ha Chet told me, with some hilarity, of a certain day. Uncle some biscuits. And I made my own butter. And there wa twice at a bird which was 1 Joe had come to gun for woodcock; they covered, during salt pork and potatoes. We lived high, I tell you.” thereby, the advice of Uncle Joe. the afternoon, a wooded pasture, and when it was time to And Uncle Joe would tell long tales, and their tall “You t too quick,” Chet v end for the day they stopped to see the farmer upon whose would wander through the coverts, gunning er the taught me; he'd say, over and ove land they were, and to have a drink with him. ground they had gunned that day the day before or the your gun up, get your aim, ther int “Uncle Joe had a flask,’”” Chet explained, ‘“‘and he asked year before, while Uncle Joe sat sipping at his fiery white three, shoot.’” And he'd get em near every time : for a tin dipper, and he poured in about an inch of liquor in _ potation. He told me, more than once, t tale of 1 the bottom. White it was, like water, but it weren’t gin. “Some nights we'd play cribbage,”’ Chet explained breach with his neighbor, a mar Whisky, he called it. It looked like not more than one good Uncle Joe was a card } He loved every game W this man I e Joe sor r ‘ drink he poured in, and then he put water in it and filled chance, and he taught C the science of the board and And this fellow, ’ Chet ex é Wa the dipper half up. A quart dipper it was. pegs. “‘We kept count,’’ Chet assured me. “‘Weren’t ever they both shot about the same time “Then I had a drink, and Dave—he owned the farm either one of us more’n two or three games ahead of the p ng up the bird and put s et. | he had one, and Uncle Joe had one, and there was about other very long.”’ Uncle Joe got mad. So one day they were standing right half of it left, and I didn’t want more, nor Uncle Joe, and “It’s a game that evens up,” I agreed, and added rashly, together and the dog had a point, and a wood k jumped, Dave drunk it. “Little or no skill to it. Stake a novice against an expert and they both threw down on him and neither one of them “And five minutes after, he was asleep, and he didn’t ina five-game match and the odds are even, nothing more.”’ pulled, and the bird flew away. And they looked at ea wake up till morning. That was powerful stuff, whatever it Chet fired at that; he discoursed upon the game; he ex- other, and the other man he say W hy didn’t you shor was.” plained its finer points to me. Uncie Joe was for the time And Uncle Joe said: ‘Jim, I'll tell you something: The “Whisky?” I repeated. forgotten in the hot zest and flavor of this argument. We _ next bird I shoot at I’m going to kill “Uncle Joe called it whisky,”’ he agreed reflectively. turned at last to the board itself to settle the moot point, “‘And he did,”” Chet assured me, ‘“‘and never gunned wit}! Chet himself is not a drinking man. “I used to,” he and Chet won four games out of five and was asimmensely themanagain.” He hastened toadd: ‘ But Uncle Joe wa sometimes says. ‘Before I come to the farm, when I was | pleased as I was all chagrin. never one to claim a bird. Only you w if he shot he i! cutting granite in East Harbor, I used to spend my eve- “Uncle Joe was a first-rate hand at it,” he told me tol-_ it. He loved gunning, the old mar , i nings in the old Pilgrim House bar. But I don’t hardly erantly, ‘‘but I got to be as good as he was in the end.” Continued on Page 120 ‘Ain't That a Picture, Now?"’ Uncte Joe Cried. Chet Filled His Pipe and Said Aimost Regretfully, “‘He’s Got to Fly Off in the Open

Page 28

26 THE SALVAGE SATURDAY EVENING POST By HUGH MacN@IR KAHLER rTLELUVUSTTRATE DO B November 6, 1926 Yr CHA RUTEES LA SS ELE ‘‘Come on.’’ He HROUGHOUT the processes of elaborate luncheon in the Palm Room of the Seneca Hotel, Arthur Gregg enjoyed that con- sciousness of ority ant grasshopper with whic! observes ) The I veteran shine of his blue serge, the unpro- fessional polish of his half-soled shoes, even the minute and feath- ery fringes that edged his cuffs, afforded him, easiness, a instead of un- stern and virtuous self-satisfac- tion only heightened by the sented by his host and contrast pre- the scene of his enter- tainment. J. Hobart Morton, debonairly point- device and jauntily at home among the ex- otic phrases of the menu, inspired in Arthur Gregg merely a compassionate dis- approval which deep- ened as the purpose of his hospitality be- came apparent. Mr. Morton led up to his proposals with diplo- matie indirection, to Arthur Gregg paid no outward no- His stubborn which tice. failure to respond to hint made it necessary, at last, for Morton to be bluntly explicit. **Look here, Art’”’ Morton for- ward with an effect of and innuendo leaned impulsive frankness " I’ve you ought to have a been thinking bigger slice of this deal of ours, and [ could use some ready cash right now, as it happens.” as if to imply that the confession was somehow creditable. Arthur Gregg’s hand trembled a little, but his sense of superior intelligence and virtue took fresh hold upon him. He was tempted, for an instant, to trade shrewdly on Morton’s weakness, but his better nature overruled the ungenerous impulse. After all, Mor- on had been awfully white to remember their school-day hip. He could have financed the deal in a hundred if it hadn’t been for his gay, open-handed ‘d have been able to finance it himself. You ought to hang on to it, Hobe,” he expostulated. “Tt’s only a announced, and the Ite smiled brilliantly, ixelier piaces generosity he of days, now, before the decisior's matter minute the news breaks, those options will be worth a pile of money.” Morton nodded penitently. “If I had your kind of hard sense, Art, I'd be living right on the corner of He shook “TT know.”’ Masy Street and Cinch Avenue by this time.” ad sorrowfully and brightened again to his normal S ne gayety. “‘But if 1 could hold onto money the way you do ; ybody else in this deal with me be sitting soft and pretty.” ‘That’s just what I'm telling you,” said Arthur Gregg. “‘Every time you toss a nickel to the birds right now you’re | wouldn't have needed an and you wouldn't really spending a couple of dollars. This luncheon is cost- ing you a hundred nickels and maybe a lot more. You don’t have to sell me any more of your interest in those options, Hobe. Just quit throwing money away for a two and week or pushed back his chair. ‘‘Let’s tend to it right away. It’salmost two o’clock.”’ “Wait till I pay my check,”’ said Morton. He drew out a thin, flat fold of new bills and separated a yel- low ten. Arthur Gregg’s sidelong glance at the tray on which the waiter pre- sented the change in- formed him that Morton, even in his extremity, believed in tipping on the lordly scale. He went out, frowning at the memory of that wasted dollar. It was the thought of it that persuaded him, alittle later, to give way before J. Hobart Mor- ton’s obdurate insist- ence and lieu of a memorandum of which accept, in note, a Le agreement by Arthur Gregg became the possessor of a full half interest in those Canal Street options. “IT won’t have it any other way, Art, and that’s all there is to it,’”’ Morton clared. ‘‘If you don’t take my terms I’ll let things slide.” *Allright.”” Arthur Gregg surrendered. “But you can buy this back from me any time you want to for just what it cost me. Don’t forget that. I mean it.”’ He handed over the sheaf of bills and watched it slide into Hobart Morton’s pocket. A sudden % . aN rt) aX de- In Reply to Leila's Inquiry as to the State of Things in General, He Spoke With Almost Reverent Fervor. “*Fine,’’ He Said. ‘‘Just Fi * “That’s the trouble.” Morton wagged his head discon- “TI wish I'd listened to you long ago, Art, but I’ve solately. it’s too late now for good advice to get me anything. got to raise two thousand before the banks close or I'll lose everything I’ve got.”” He leaned closer. ‘‘ Look here. You gave me three thousand for a quarter interest in this deal. I'll give you another quarter for two thousand more. That’s how much I need it.” Again Arthur Gregg faced an ignoble temptation. The minute the joint committee made public its decision to locate the Union Station on the canal-basin site the options that Hobart Morton held on adjacent property would be worth ten times what they had cost, perhaps twenty times as much. Morton was offering him a thou- sand per cent interest for what amounted to a ten-day loan. Gregg found it necessary to moisten his lips before they could be constrained to refusal. “T won't do it, Hobe. You've been too white to me. I won’t take advantage of you by i J. Hobart Morton’s amiability wore suddenly thin. His brows narrowed and his voice rasped harshly. “‘That’s my funeral! I tell you I’ve got to raise two thousand before three or “All right. I'll lend it to you.” Arthur Gregg swal- lowed. ‘‘ We'll stop in at the bank and get it. You can pay me the interest I'll lose, but I won’t take another cent.” He met Morton’s astonished stare with fixed determina- tion, presented a stubbornly deaf ear to his protests comprehensive recol- lection gave him a cinematographic view of the processes by which pennies and dimes and quarters had patiently been welded into those yellow-backed notes; all the mean, miserly little shifts and economies they rep- resented rose up as if to reproach that careless gesture that thrust them into a pocket so manifestly easy of egress. ““Wait a second, Hobe. I don’t want to preach at you, but honestly, if you’d just stop to think where that money came from—I mean if you’d just realize why it is that I’m fixed so I can help you out, you’d “i “Oh, absolutely, old top.” J. with even more than his wonted breeze. ‘I played myself for a sucker. You don’t need to rub it in.” He moved to the door with an effect of haste which Arthur Gregg found natural enough. They’d been slow about giving up the money at the savings bank and it wanted only a scant half hour of three. Morton’s bank was a good half mile from the dingy office in the Watson Block, and even his shining runabout could be held up ir the downtown traffic. Nevertheless, the eagerness of th« movement was remotely disquieting, and something in Morton’s face, as he turned in the doorway to wave his hand, dimly troubled Arthur Gregg’s spirit. As always, Morton’s smile was infectious and disarming, but on this occasion it held a quality which Gregg had learned to recog- nize in the glances of other men. It was almost exactly like the grin with which, for instance, Lansing Gifford sur- veyed the shiny serge and the half-soled shoes. It was the look that inevitably greeted canny thrift which made no Hobart Morton spoke : ; know I’ve

Page 29

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST compromise with appearances; there was amusement in it The rebuffs in which his earlic ‘ esulted 1 r id, notwithstanding the two thousand dollarsin Morton’s than their usual impression on his s t. There pocket, a plain hint of condescension, even of contempt. a certain acid pleasure in being tartly dismissed |} ome g f : For amoment after the door closed, Arthur Gregg faced whippersnapper of a clerk, swollen with his petty aut renting agent. H r ague, unworthy doubts. The signed agreement on his ity, all umaware that Arthur Gr | desk reproached him for them; they dissolved and faded seemed. His mood lifted as he neared the the tone whicl , is he read the wavering lines of type script that trans- block on River Street where old George Wat tu the ne xchange | 1 ferred to him another quarter interest in those options. bornly maintained his frugal office; here, at least, there = |] i Morton could have walked out with that money on his would be no pomp and frippery of d no haught if unsecured note; instead, he had obstinately insisted on office boy to demand a card and to dk e that M ever, with Arthur Gregg’s do, | i é I ad sacrificing a sure and imminent profit of many times the So-and-So was in conference and might not be disturbed Its enduring rankle, indeed mn sum involved. There couldn’t be any question, after that, George Watson, for all his millions in Binchester realty, During the afternoon he fa ttere ‘i about his friendliness, any more than there was room for had no more patience with such extravagance than Arthur ance of two wavering prospect i en he stoppe a doubt about the certainty and swiftness of the profit. Gregg himself. The knowledge that in a sense they were deliver a renewal policy at Ung« i er Shoppe, } ") Methodically Arthur Gregg plodded through the argu- kindred spirits quickened Gregg’s step on the dark stair- mood was sternly proof against t efforts of its | it ment Morton unquestionably knew what the joint way and lent confidence to his tap on the office door. It mirrors to d neert hin th mu 1 reflecticr \ Wa) ommittee said and did inside their council chamber; he’d dwindled, however, at the surly bark that bade him enter, which, somehow, his frugal sl ‘ always subt 4 proved that beyond any possibility of dispute before and ali but vanished as he faced George Watson's per- emphasized Arthur Gregg had even considered putting money at emptory, beetling giower across the littered papers on the He g ered rovir t 1ightening hazard on his information. He had bought the options battered walnut desk. shot rs so that vat Hf re awkwa! M} is with his own money before approaching Gregg; only his No office boy, however haughtily efficient, could have aloof from his uncompromising n¢ It pleased him t 7 incorrigible extravagance had made it necessary for him to guarded Watson’s time against unwarranted trespass as_ feel that he was wt out of | n this temple of she« fl admit a partner. effectively as the challenge of his eye. Under its host vaste. He si ed at a displa is as he went 7 \ Arthur Gregg locked the agreement in a drawer of his glare Arthur Gregg’s determination melted; he became the partition to Unger’s office, and relieved a sudder 1f\ venerable roll-top desk, dismissing the last faint shadow defensive, almost apologetic. The swollen, untidy figure heightened disapproval of the institution by insisting or ' of his absurd, contemptible suspicion. From another in the shabby old office jacket, instead of putting him at waiting while Unger wrote a « | drawer, concealed in the space above the inkwell, he drew ease, made him illogically conscious of his own glistening ‘“‘No sense in wasting an envelope and stamp,” he i 1) out a square of cardboard to which a clipping from the seams and frayed linen. “Might as well take it right with me picture section of the Sunday Courier had been gummed. “You told me to come back today,”’ he said. “I’ve got He had a sense of bearing awa tured battle flag a t\( Before the smiling friendliness of the girl in the sepia the figures on those policies and Pe he went back to the showroom. H rathered at t} } halftone the resolute angularity of his face slowly re- “‘S’mother time,” said Watson. ‘Busy. ‘Sall.”’ sight of J. Hobart Morton, standing at the glass-toppe ht, laxed, tightened again to even sterner purpose. He drew Arthur Gregg managed to resist the invisible force that counter in the act of selecting from the array of orchids, a ; : ‘ in along breath. When he and Hobart Morton had cashed ured him backward as the shaggy head lowered above the sleekly deferential clerk in fawning attendance. Arthur il their winnings on this deal, it wouldn’t be so ridiculous for _ littered blotter. Gregg’s lips tightened as the yellow | i across the | Arthur Gregg to lift his eyes to Leila Drew. There would ““But some of those policies are expiring this week,” he counter: he reached Morté ne to hea ‘ | remain a gulf, of course, all but impassable; but a gulf persisted feebly. ‘“‘ You told me “3 crowning summit of his folly. narrower by the span of forty thousand dollars, anyway, “*Sall,” said Watson. ‘‘S’mother time, tol’ja.”’ “You ought to know I never ir ‘ ird.”” Mort al perhaps fifty, or even more. Arthur Gregg discovered that he was in the frowzy tone manifestly resented the ck stion. “Ar if He replaced the portrait reverently, locked the drawer gloom of the hall. For a moment he stood staring blankly anybody tries to find out w! been s ng the i ‘| and desk, fixed in the ground glass of the door a yellowed at a door which seemingly had opened and closed of its ers, you don’t know. Underst A card declaring that he would return at five and, squaring own accord. He turned away from fervent 17 es to encounter Ny his shoulders in the shiny serge, set forth upon his delayed He’d had a right to count on a chance at Watson’s busi- Arthur Gregg’s affronted gaze. It failed erly to al i round of visits. ness this year. Watson had as good as promised him tl Continued on Page 128 Couldn’t Wrinkle,’ Dectared M. Garfinkle. ‘“‘Not Even if it Wasn't Cut Special to Your Measure, Mr. Morton” |

Page 30

28 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 SOMIE OTHERS AINID MYSELF y NEXT By George Broadhurst and the accepted for- mula of construction was: ‘Tell the audi- orting to ( nee 1 ad ’ i t tto i imena no wa i painte but I ll off Id } ) we end of t et ind patte | ot fa 1G¢ h wit} me t e, new, ultra- visible yellow paint I determined to try omething that was less tumultuous I made up my mind to write a piay During the past twent yeal nd particularly of late, I ve otter been the participant in some ucn conversation as tr ne trying towrite a play. Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous?”’ One Rule "Whe ty? Thi a free country and 1 ’ 1 there’s nothing in the Constitution against far as I know ence what you are going to do, then do it; and then tell them that you have done ‘..’ Now all such things are as though they had never been The exposition must come indirectly and through the action and dialogue of the characters them- selves; the play wright can deceive and mislead his audi- ence as often as he pleases; all explana tions must be madeas the play progresses; and the last act, in- stead of being a per- functory winding up of the previous ones, must carry the action to the final curtain The rules of construc tion are made to he broken, and an author can smash them all as often as he likes so long as he interests or amuses hisaudience. That is the one infallible and imperishable rule interest or amuse.” Under Dog Be sides ,everyone¢ lse doing it, so why shouldn’t Jim?”’ “But he knows nothing about playwrighting.” He knows quite as much as I did when I began, and yet the first piay 1 wrote was accepted by the first man who read it and was produced by thesecond. Why shouldn’t Jim have just the same luck?” “But what has he ever done that he should even think that he can write one?”’ “That is what all my friends, with oneexception, said to me. They nick- named me Shakspere, Jr. They advised me to go back towork onthe Board of Trade, point- ing out that, five or six years before, I g forty dollars, and asking me how much I was eraging now; they became indignant at my presumption, scornfully at my conceit and wondered who and it I thought I was. From their viewpoint they were ht. I had done absolutely nothing to indicate in any that I could, or ever should, write a play. The edifice of my contention was based on the most untrustworthy i flimsy of foundations—the thought, unsupported by any fact, that I could doit. That, as I see it, is Jim’s position too. ? ’ 10 T tT t Tl t 4 ‘In playwrighting, there is not a single rule of construc- tion that cannot be learned by observation and study. “TNHEN you advise Jim to go on?” There is nothing mystical in the writing of plays, and the “Long ago I stopped advising anyone, for experience has mandatory rule of last year is the rejected of this. Twenty- taught me that no one wants advice—he wants confirma- five years ago it was considered obligatory to let the audi- tion or approbation. Suppose I told Jim not to write, do ence know through dialogue between persons already on youthink that wouldstop him? Notifhe has the writing in the stage the characteristics and all the relevant facts and _ stinct; andif he hasn’t it he will soon stop of his own accord.” John Bunny in a Scene From Old Dutch history of every important character before his entrance. “That accounted for the peren- nial butler and housemaid who always opened the play with, ‘I say, Mary, that was a ’ot old row the governor and the missus ’ad last night, eh?’ ““*That’s right, Mr. Tootleham. Hi wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she did a bolt with Lord Herring- water. ’E’s been ’anging round ’er quite a lot, ’e has.’ ***T'll be sorry for ’er if she does. You know ’Is Lordship’s reputa- tion, don’t you, Mary? A Don Jewan, that’s what he is.’ “In those days the star’s en- trance was worked up by someone looking through the window into the street or garden and saying ‘Here comes Sir Murgatroyd This- tleprong now,’ at which the others on the stage would rush to the window and make appropriate remarks about his wonderful ap- pearance and the cut of his clothes. Then Sir Murgatroyd would be heard speaking in the hall in a tone loud enough to wake a police- man six blocks away, after which the door would open and our hero would breeze in, merry and bright. “Then we were told never un- der any circumstances to mislead or deceive the audience. The play consisted of a first act of exposi- tion, a second and third act of drama and a fourth of explanation, William Collier Then I would point out the things, besides the ability to write a play, which are necessary to make a successful and not too unhappy a dramatist. He must be able to take punishment both deserved and undeserved; to see the actual work of a year, and the thought of several, scrapped in an hour; to have his work ruined by that of a second person who is indispensable to him; for unlike the poet, the novelist, the sculptor and the painter, the playwright cannot make a direct appeal. He is compelled to do it through the actors, at whose mercy he is the moment the curtain rises; and moreover—this happened to m« twice in important parts in the past five years—there is nothing to prevent a player, at the opening performance in New York, from changing the interpretation given to him by the author and pro- ducer and enacted by him on the road, to the interpretation which he prefers and which he from the first intended to give on that all- important and critical occasion; to see his best scene ruined and the chances of the play put in jeopardy by the electrician and the property man—as was done in The Faithful Heart when electric light in an important scer kept flashing intermittently, 1 the amusement of the audience, Continued on Page 163 it | t alt —_— —— OT

Page 31

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST o0 6Stagg to Wesley W Y Pe

ML. - 2 tos ex a ge fe re a

A Tackle for the Book on Stagg Field. Chicago 34, Michigan Aggies 0. September 9, 1923 i rng that is« INQ. TI’ Die for Dear Old Rutgers wre e igs: \ spade a Little eleven that had played Giant steam shovel con- against the high school from tinues to play over American business, the football coaches knew it, for there never has been a player on a Chicago which the boy came to us. and he knew the lad’ tempera may yet get together and emerge as emotional engineers. team so valuable that I would permit him to run it. I ment both by experience and hearsay. Some two or thre Emotion is the unknown and highly explosive quantity in have known of such elevens, but in justice to the sport let weeks before our game with the university team he now football, and each coach is his own powder monkey. me add that it develops few soloists. It needs an unusually coached, I sent a scout to look them ove Sy A Conference coach grew cocky several years back bumptious ego to survive the emphasis in football upon

about his Illinois game. His team had been rubbing the teamwork and subservience of self—another reason why Squeezing a Lemon Illinois nose in the dirt regularly, and on form, it would do the sport builds character. it again. At a pregame student mass meeting he was si This lad was capable of anything on the field, but he — scout met the coach, who, in talking with him, said ill advised, as the story comes to me, as to boast that good was an in-and-outer, playing when he felt like it, idling n passing: “Is that Irishman s playing for ; old Siwash did not need eleven men to lick the Illini; give when he didn’t. In his first year on the varsity I had to There's a lemon if there ever was one >The cout br . rhit

lit. He snapped out of it and the comment back to me and I tucked it away for pos Swift couriers galloped to Urbana-Champaign with this came back on his knees. His head was less outsize the future use. On the Wednesday before the game in ques him eight men and three women and he'd do it any day. order him to turn in his

wash coach talked him- elf out of that game. bit of gasconade and reported to General Zuppke at great second season. His third and final year the improvement tion, I noted that my man was not wing much interes headquarters. Nothing Coach Zuppke possibly could have continued, but he was not yet 100 per cent. in practice against the scrubs. I called him over said to his squad could “I give you up,” I said have produced the mad- ; “You're no good: vou’! dening effect of this sneer. ist what ( h Blar They went berserk, s i are lem leaped upon Siwash in a The b vineed Ai crying rage and ripped cut with a whip, but of them from stem to gud- ' “~ nothing I me n i | geon. There is not the the street t ext da i least doubt that the Si- 4 He stopped me and § . 7 i SLagt I've bee . < ae .

ft al thinking about wi Prima Donnas he ( ies sl i i , me. | u'll let me | ) ip ISN'T often that i R vl ll ; : such manna falls from . I'm a } the skies upon a grateful t W i | ach, but a contempo- i. rary once did as much for i and com{ | me. Once upon a time fon 4 aiain : j there was a boy of Irish- +} p American extraction on sth a semen f the squad who had come titiou lur of to us from four years of —— m , } | high-school football tri- dthe ; umphs. He was good— manufacture ther n ) and did he know it? In | catieeminhen j my time I have had a few = ¢ ee ‘ ) such prima donnas. They | i 27° oh Ov eg eet tie mment, wher ( . Re waite - AIRS ate. Pa SR ye } were more frequent in the bee ok hm es oo, cag aver did 1 ‘ sition as _- . | ae 7 oi Se Sd — Ry, Th GO Oe ay earlier days, when the | forn my taste. v squads were smaller and P R ' good man knew he had : mi N t he st a cinch on his position. _— mean eccrs “ Seen eeneeenanans ea = was utterly false. | i Rather, he thought he John Thomas, Chicago Back, Plows Through the Princeton Line in the Desperate 1& to 21 Game of 1022 Continued on Page i108

Page 32

30 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 YES, SIR; AUE’S MY MANISIE } “IT mean,” I yelps back, “that Bill’s been up here for twelve years and he’s likely to crack in two any sunny after noon. Who you got tostick in the cor ner when he does? You've discouraged everybody who's tried for the spot and you’d probably have to slap in the bat boy’s late grandmother if is ““What’s the matter with Wilkins?”’’ interrupts the manager. “Nothing,” says I, “ex- ee pting that he’s been kept T WAS on a Wednesday iate in March that Wiji descended upon the Florida Lf ~, training camp of the Blue Sox at / Optionville with a letter from George Tabor, the young owner of the Blue Sox Over Bull Grogan’s shoulder I reads th The bearer says he belongs n the Big League. Does he? When we iooks up Wiji’s brushing a baby atom from 1s coat sieeve and smiling amiable. He’s a lad in the lower twenties, handsome on the bench so long enetahh to te tated he’s stiff from sliver dumb and dressed like Besides, don’t forg: he’d already voted fo: / three Presidents when you got him. If I wer you I'd give Wiji ever) a clothing ad’s hopes His necktie and spats match. “H’'m!” grunts the manager. ‘‘You are a chance in the world to show his samples, and f he has anything I'd let him bust into the friend of the boss? “No,” returns the boy. “Just met him Hox seore once in a while.” “That pest!’’ snarls once. Probably doesn’t remember my name,” “What is it?”’ “MeMe,” is the an- wer. “WJ MeMe, without the periods.” Grogan. ‘‘What of it?’’ J comes back. ‘He's not trying to mar your daug ‘Without the ‘s — . . vhats?”’ I butts in. A> you sponsor him into the Elks. The only question can “ Periods,” repeats Wiji. ‘“‘That’s my front name, WJ “You've Probably Sent Away a Dozen Youngsters in the he stop ’em and get ’em away and smack one on the nose run together, and neither the W nor the J stands for any- Last Few Years Who'd Have Thrown Hoops All Over occasionally. He’s young and nervy, looks fast ~ thing.” Simonds if You'd Had Nerve Enough to Give ‘Ema Chance * “* And,” finishes Bull, “‘he won’t play ball on Thursdays.’ ‘Your old man,” remarks Grogan, “‘must have chris- he won’t?”’ te 1ed you by cable code i AS 4 A ‘ ave : . A ‘p) . . ‘ | “Or,” I suggests, ‘“‘named you after his favorite bedtime By Sam lelitmam **Maybe the kilowatt kid’s cooing to a kitchen mechar and wants to go picking posies with her on Thursdays.’ ‘What's the difference,’ says the kid, kind of impa- ILLUSTRATED BY TONY SARG tient. ‘Base hits and quick throws don’t care what bap- tism’s behind them, do they?” ‘Not in this league,”’ admits Bull. “Where you been Towers.”’ “T have my suite engaged,” says McMe, “‘at the Palm playing?” “The Blue Sox,” glares Bull, “‘are getting their flops and ‘College,’ comes back Wiji, brief. chops at the Merchants Hotel, and - ‘‘I’d ask you which one,” says Grogan, sarcastic, ‘‘but “Since I intend to pay my own way,” cuts in W you'd probably tell me that home runs and double steals ‘‘what do you care where I stay?”’ don’t care what sweet girl graduate makes ’em. Out- “TI don’t,” barks Grogan; ‘‘nor when you go. Report elder?” here tomorrow at ten.”’ “Third base,” answers McMe. “It's the only position “‘Not tomorrow,” smiles the boy. “I can’t on Thursda; ll play for you.” ““Make it Friday then,”’ says Bull, weary, and “Third base!" I gasps. ‘Know who we got at third?’’ turns his back. “Oh, yes,” shrugs the youngster. ‘“‘The best infielder in “‘Tt’s not only tomorrow,” goes on Wiji, “but or the country, batted .376 for a nine-year average; but what no Thursday. I don’t play ball on Thursday.” fit? How many runs do you expect to score in 1926 on “No?” queries Grogan, curious in spite of hin the base hits he turned in from 1917 to 1925, inclusive?"’ self. ‘‘ How’s that?” ‘Listen, rah-rah!’’ snorts Bull. ‘‘Bushers come here “It’s a personal matter,” returns McMe. “You every spring expecting to pull Pill Simonds’ job out from can use Simonds on Thursday.” inder him, but all they get is bench warts.” “Oh, all right,’ shrugs Bull, with a yawn. “I “That's all Grant got,”’ snaps Wiji, ‘“‘until Lincoln sent guess benches don’t care what day off rookies take m in to pitch for the Federals. . . . Youusegasin your Come any time and stay as long as you want. Yo home?” he switches suddenly might bring your knitting along.” F ‘Uh--sure,”’ answers Grogan, caught with his shirt off. “‘Thanks,”’ says Wiji, and with a bow he ba i “] thought so,” says McMe. ‘You're just the type.” himself out. ‘ “Type?” mumbles Bull, whose brains don’t run bases so “What is it?"’ I asks, after the kid takes the ai: ast off the diamond. ‘“‘What the “3 “The heat?” “'The type,” explains Wiji, ‘“‘that’d play candles in the “Tt’s certainly not the humility,” returns Gro house and keep electricity on the bench for fear that afuse gan. ‘“‘Ever see a busher with more I-am about might blow out. That’s the trouble with the Blue Sox. him? I wish Tabor’d stick to his drinking and let You've probably sent away a dozen youngsters in the last the team alone.” few years who'd have thrown hoops all over Simonds if you’d “But,” I points out, “WJ without the periods had nerve enough to give ’em a chance.” says he barely knows the boss.”’ ‘Everybody gets a chance with me,” growls Grogan. “*That may be true,” agrees Bull. ‘“ The chances ‘In your green hat!"’ scoffs McMe. “‘Youpushascared are that McMe hooked up with Tabor at some d into the line-up and if he isn’t as steady the first week party and filled him up with a lot of oil about how s Peggy Joyce or DeWolf Hopper at a marriage ceremony, we needed young blood on the Sox.” ou waive him into the bushes. Not me, though. There “Don’t we?” I asks, cautious. isn’t been any scare in my family since the fall of 1086.” ““We could use some,” howls Grogan, “if you and the . “You're a fresh egg, aren’t you?” sneers Bull. rest of the scouts leeching on the pay roll would bring ir \ “Fresh!” exclaims Wiji. ‘‘Why, I haven’t even been something besides swindle sheets; but we certainly don’t ; 1 yet! But let’s get to business. What’d you rather need a new face at third. I never saw Simonds working ‘He Looks Circusy to Me," ve-—an are light at third or the candle you got now?” better.” He Adds, With a Frown, “son ” gr Grogan, “I'd enjoy your absence: “‘Candles,”’ I remarks, “never throw a brighter tlame rinbilxiia:!eanacaaab edge suieaaccintaad seeing that the ef sent you I'll give you a trial. than just before going out.” a ee e | over to the hotel, Mike, and get him fixed up.” “What do you mean?” yelps Bu “T forgot about that,’”’ says I. ‘‘Why do you imagine

Page 33

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

Simonds Roars With Rage and Plunges \ “Not Wiji,”’ I assures him. ‘Guys paying thirty frog- “No,” says I. ‘‘He’s a college boy.” “You'll probably discover,”’ rema Turner, “‘that Wi skins a day over at the Palm Towers don’t take up with the “A Mohammedan,” diagrams Sid, “isa Turk, andtheir lays off that day because when it’s blossom time N } iT) Olgas.” Sunday is on Friday.” mandy, it’s Thursday over here, or some simple reasor “Probably,” suggests Grogan, “he doesn’t play ball on ““How,”’ I grumbles, ‘‘does that explain this baby, who’s _ that.” Thursday for the same reason that lake trout don’t climb not a Turk, not wanting to work on Thursday?” im flagpoles on Thursday.” “It doesn’t, quite,” admits Turner. ‘‘ What did you say Lp I figures it’s possible “They don’t any other day either,” I comments his name was?” his marbles, the kid inte brightly ““McMe,”’ I tells him, ‘‘and his front handle’s WJ with- made to Bull about the need of “No,” agrees Bull, “they don’t.” out the periods. They're not initials; it’s all he’s got. oysters in my stew. For years re \ little later, when I leaves the clubhouse, IrunsintoSid Ever run into a combination like that before?”’ about trading in some of our o Turner, one of the newspaper men at the camp, an old-timer “There’s no accounting for monikers,”’ replies Sid. “I colts, but with no more luck tha } vho can tell you offhand what Jim Splivins batted on Sep- used to know of a girl out West who was christened Eighty- needs the money. Grogan’s t! 11, 1901, and will tell you unless you head him off. nine, the year she was born, and there was a bird named _ aces up in a poker game ever When,” he asks, “are you trekking for the ivory Without Sin. He is—now. I covered his hanging. Tell draws against him. Two big; fields?” me some more about McMe. There might be a yarn in all there is to it. Three hundred’s a nice batting aver tember

’ “Not fora month or so,”’ Lanswers. “Grogan wantsme him. Any Blue Sox who’s got anything—even a peculiar- and it’s impossible to convince Bull that he might bette to stick around and help him out with the team. He’s not ity—ought to be prominent enough for a squib.” his hand by discarding a couple of .300's and drawing ir feeling so good.”’ ““Go over and see him,” I suggests. ‘‘He’s stopping at pair of .350’s “T figured,”’ says Turner, “that the damp in the cellar the Palm Towers. Better grab him quick, though. I don’t ‘“‘A sure in the hand,” he'd say, * worth a flo would get him sooner or later. Anything new with the Sox think he'll ever become the oldest living resident of Op- maybes in the bush.” that'll make a column of brain food for the American _ tionville.”’ “Yes,” I comes backs ‘‘but remember, a mayhe breakfast table?” “He might have something, at that,’’ shrugs Turner. times becomes a sure while a sure never gets to be ‘*Nothing much,” I returns, “‘excepting that we’ve got ‘“‘The fact that he won’t play on Thursdays might thing but a has-beer

eight or ten rookies hitting over .400 in practice, three lads mean that he’s a howling she wolf on Tuesdays and Just like Wiji had doped it, Gregan'd try out a bu vho remind you of Cobb and a half dozen pitchers who've — Fridays.” of morning glories every spring and if they didn’t cause got more speed and faster-breaking curves than Johnson ““Wiji,”” I comes back, ‘could be a howling she wolf on the insurance company to raise the fire rates on rivet or Vance.” Tuesdays and Fridays and a shrieking he bear on Wednes- first few weeks of the regular schedule he'd have ’en “TI see,”’ grunts the reporter. ‘Then it’s safe for me to days and Saturdays, and still have his ticket punched ning, not walking, to the nearest exi The result was t} write that the line-up this year will be the same that Nowhere. He’s after Bill Simonds’ job and says it’s the season after season the Blue Sox sent a bunch of vets int

f started last season?” only one he'll take.”’ the field—-good steady ball players, but without any mo ft ‘Safer than a mother in her baby’s arms,” says I. “And,” grins Sid, ‘‘he’s willing to handicap the best in- flash or dash than there is about Cal Coolidge when h« { ‘The flowers that bloom in the spring tra-la don’t ever fielder in the league a day a week. Must be squirrel food quits kidding and getsreal seriou And that goes for B i} ep up with the pace “Talks all right,” says I; “but that Thursday Simonds, too; a perfect wo in but, like all pe Hy Listen’’—I turns suddenly tuill has me winging.” thing ninteresting I neither see nor hear anything *) ' if to Sid “you know every MeMe ntil | | thing, don’t you?” when Ig { “You would think so,” f 1 it pre comes back Turner. t Sid 7 i . * . “Know any reason,’’I goe Get a sto \} . k ; g on, “‘ why a ball tosser should \ I i : : , es \ efuse to play on Thur i y) days?” What ‘il ‘“How could you tell on es Da } the Blue Sox,” inquires Sid, “AY i ‘whether he did or , Ap] t { H | not?’’ a I I “Clim } W I've 1 ) ny scowls. “‘This isa rea ( WM case I’m talking about Aa é f \ busher drifts in or ’ Sunes tt ° | today with a note from t hh the boss and offers to . | play third for us ever) ae : but Thursday g away fro : Thursday being barred a ; for personal reasons | ——— \ ; i?’ Ta : ’ explain.” Or > ‘ | ) to the Tow won t explain e 10 1 N ~ ° | “He’snota Mohum er esterday afternoor | medan, Is he?” The Kid Stides Safely Into the Bag Continued on Page 209 | | |

Page 34

32 THE SATURDAY THE MAUD ILQOVIEIR qr EVENING POST By Richard Connell ILLUSTRATED BY November 6, 1926 HENRY RALEIGH “They’re nice enough T A FURIOUS pace Gerald i Shannon drove his ear toward the house of Sonia Brotherton The night breeze fanned his hot cheeks, but did it cooi his temper He rate rat hotalong atadizzy lie was seeking to wrench himself away physically and spiritu- ally, from the scene of his meeting with Irene Thorne. He had gone to that meeting smiling, high-hearted, confident Then he had been brought sharply face to face with her picture of the sort of man she thought he was. He re- jected her picture of him: he refused to believe that it was accurate; but he could not escape the fact that he had failed. Fail ure to get what he wanted was a new and stunning experience to Gerald Shannon, When he was a small boy he had but to ex- press a wish for a toy, and his father, proud of an only son and generous in ‘a new-found prosper- ity, had given it to him. \s Gerald had grown up, his toys had grown up too; the hobbyhorse of his nursery days had grown into a string of blooded polo poniés; the toy motor car, propelled by his feet, was nowareal one, an eight-cylinder ant. His always ample pocket money had in- creased with the years to the proportions of a very robust allowance. He had come to accept life as a gay game in which, so it seemed, he could al- ways win, andeasily. For ‘Nature, too, had made a favorite son of him From birth he had been endowed with good eid po MN ee re al > } A ee ee girls,’’ Gerald once con fided in Tommy, “but they chatter so! Lord, I don’t want to marry a magpie. It’s amusing for awhile, listening to their smal! talk, their gossip and their wise cracks, but I can’t endure the notion of listening to it at breakfast, luncheor and dinner for the next forty years.” It was then that Tommy Waterlow made his sage remark for that year. “Jerry,” he said, *‘you’ve never really been in love.” “What do you know about it?’’ Gerald had returned. ‘““My dear fellow,” Tommy had said, “I am always in that delicious but highly painful state. I recognize it by the facts that all the words of some woman who, up till then, I have thought rather a fool, suddenly seem to me incompara- bly witty and wise. The current object of my adoration has but tosay, ‘I bought the cutest new hat today,’ and I con- sider it the most absorb- ing speech since the Gettysburg Address.” Gerald had laughed and admitted, ‘I never met any girl who affected me to that extent.’ “You will,” Tommy had predicted. ‘‘Now you are just a general practitioner, but some day you will be a special ist. And when you fall, my boy, it will be with a thud which will be heard all over these states. You’re so utter, Jerry Still, when a man’s in love he might as well be all the way in.” “Heaven preserve me from magpies!"’ Gerald had said. health and good looks; and they, in turn, gave him poise and an easy thed the way for him in his contacts friendliness which smo with other people. At Yale he had been voted the most Pp pular man in his clas He did not have to reach out for ors; they came to him unsought. He wore them mod- tly, for he took them as a matter of course. That he uuld have been elected captain of the polo team pleased m, but did not surprise him. That the most exclusive ibs should have opened their tomblike doors to him eemed as natural to him as that he should eat poached ast. Doors had a way of opening for breakf m. He never had had to batter them down. In his studies a ncturally quick mind had enabled him to get passing marks without making it necessary for him to engage in grueling battles with textbooks. His engineering course had interested him in the same way it had inter- ested him to build elaborate mansions and forts of blocks n his nursery; it was just one more pastime. The war was to him simply another and more interesting game. He had gone into it as he would have gone into a teeplechase or any other hazardous sporting event. Avia- tion attracted him; and since he had handled fast and potent motor cars from early youth, he became a good lyer, painlessly. Of course, they made him a captain. Later, after an exciting brush in the air over the Argonne, “I'm Going to Make a Paper Rowboat and Row to the Moon" with good fortune flying at his side to keep him unscathed, he had had both cheeks soundly kissed by a bushy-bearded French general and a medal pinned on his tunic. When he got back to Branton, they gave a dinner in his honor at the club and he drank most of a magnum of champagne, sang sixteen verses of Mademoiselle From Armentiéres and was conveyed to his flat in a triumphal state of slumber. He woke to a life of polo and parties. He liked it. Some moments of dissatisfaction he had known. Sometimes a fit of restlessness hit him. But he threw it off by going on a lively party. Mostly, life seemed fair and fine to him. Now and again he had had flirtations. They had hardly been more than that. Once or twice, for brief periods, he had fancied himself in love with some girl or other, daugh- ters of the rich men of Branton or their visitors from other cities. But they were always taking his love making too seriously. As Tommy Waterlow put it: “Jerry, like the good Hi- bernian he is, bubbles out sentiment as naturally as a geyser bubbles out hot water; but it’s just a game with him, like everything else. Poor chap, the ladies always think he means that he wants to settle down with them in a cute little cottage with eleven bathrooms and a brace of butlers.” Gerald Shannon was thinking of Sonia now as he sped toward her house. When he first met her at Tommy Waterlow’s house, he had thought that she chattered like the rest. Later he decided that her chatter was different There was a sophistication about it, he thought. Of course, all the girls he met aimed at sophistication; they seemed quite willing to do anything or say anything to attain that goal. But somehow they seemed to him immature and unreal. It was considered smart to act like brazen hoydens, so they did so. Sonia was not like that. He was glad that she was wholly and frankly feminine. Tommy Waterlow had once summed her up by saying, ‘Sonia never forgets for a second that she isa woman; and she never lets a man forget it either.’ When Gerald was with her—and he had been with her a lot in the past year—her attitude toward him was always that of a weaker person toward a stronger; it made him feel protective. She confided in him, asked for his advice, encouraged him to talk about himself, and listened, round- eyed and interested. But not too interested; somehow she had been able to give him a sense that she was not to be won easily. His car was climbing Watchtower Hill. He felt now, as he drew near Sonia’s house, that his feeling for that Thorne ring girl had been an aberration on his part, a touch of spring —

Page 35

ily he could not understand. He should be grateful to Irene, he told himself, for bringing him to his senses. She was right, of course. They were of different worlds, he and she. Sonia Brotherton was of his world. They met on a plane of understanding. As for the Thorne girl, thank God I he was over being an infatuated idiot. >; Sonia Brotherton herself opened the door of her little house on the rim of Branton’s fashionable section. Her { blond hair had been hastily arranged, and she held about bth her a negligee of purple and silver cloth. She gave a little +\p cry of surprise when she saw him. ‘Why, Jerry!” na es, none other. I’m sorry to call so late. I thought Fl you'd be up, though, playing bridge.”’ ne ‘I called off the bridge game,” she said. “I felt in no 1 mood for cards. I wanted to think - and sleep.” ) I}] go,’ he said, ‘‘if a i I'm seldom too tired to talk to you,” she said. you're tired.” “Come in, Won't you? Just i minute,”’ he said, and followed her into her mall mart drawing-room ‘N Ww, ( ud is they t down, did you have say to me?” omething special to Mi | ! “Why, Sonia,” Gerald exclaimed, ‘‘what's the matter? { : A You talk like a busy man being interviewed by a life ‘ insurance agent. Have I done something to displease i | you?” uh |' **Do I seem displeased?”’ “Well, a bit formal,” he said. “I might almost say chilly.” Mid: “I’m taking my cue from you, Jerry.” hw “I know,” he said. ‘‘You’re miffed because I didn’t it come to play bridge tonight. I’m sorry.’ “Why didn’t you come?” “Had to go to my father’s house,” he said; and added, i “Business.” | ““You seem to have had a lot of business there lately.” “T’ve finished it now,” he said. i “Must have been frightfully important,” ‘) “to make you neglect your friends so.” | “I’m sorry. But I tell you it’s finished now.’ ‘Then you're going to be your old self again?”’ ““T hope so.” i) ‘“‘Let’s have a drink to celebrate that.” \ “Thanks. Scotch and for me.” When it was brought and poured, he raised his glass. ‘‘To you, Sonia.” Sonia said, soda sonia ‘Ye ’ “Let me mot “We “T want vou to answer me Y *T always try to be nest wit Good! Here goes. Am | She ighed Who A that Nobody. I thought it up r Of ee! t “The what am | ‘What ‘Am I weal ‘Who has “That's another of my own har heen calling 1 wen ** Jerry,” she said, “I don't thir yo “Do you mean that, Sonia? “Of course I mean it. What or that you're weak ‘Just a notion of mine. After good for ““My dear Jerry, been examining your conscience for all right. Have another drink and Philosophy is bad fi He smiled as he took the drink bit owlish,”’ he said. ‘‘ But tonight whole bevy of owls—if they come in a few more profound thoughts?” I strongly sus} + “You might as well get them out of suppose,’’ Sonia Brotherton said. ‘“‘l’ve just been wondering,” he s kidding myself along, and not faci pretty useless.” “Jerry,” she said, “you talk as school graduation and heard the clas real, life is earnest.’ useful, pass me those cigarettes.” If you’re burr ' r But am ] Ay ‘ wv thought . re we who gave Sonia. v ect that some vou. Forget stop being phil rr one’s digestion.” “Tl expect I dos I feel as if I'd bevies. Car your aid, “if may] ng the fact orator rec} ng with a de s ( } eater 1 + } 1 and I'm no t I'n a higt ‘Life i to be THE SATURDAY EVENING POST VV , re 1 f (>) + » f ? I ivi " ‘ 1 i) ee f { t 4 ‘ ‘ r , ¢ I ‘ it me Ww 1 her r y r | ae Iw t t ‘ Ww t nile ( © bye et ‘ ‘ y r ‘ ; | it ‘ I Ci met re t Ww af t Ar ] } ¢ y | " ‘ rT d t yO do wv | y é The pathet creat I 7 ‘ ' n weaith, and are I l t that ex] to die in } eee 4 Sametir + ¢ ¢ ? they ] , ¢ r to |} knew an ev M itweive id m teen t xtv. making mowing n fort told him } ld retire 1 ey He tried t was miserable The nly way he new ft haveag time was to mal es y mowing nr rie e went t to work again; and now, at ne t his desk, and will pr e sitting t e till he die gure. He’ ist g n © Continued on Page 88 “Sonia,” He Said, ‘You are Beautiful When You Smile Like That, With the Light on Your Hair’

Page 36

ww a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST FOUNDED A°D' 1728 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY INDEPENDENCE SQUARE PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA, U.S.A. GEORGE HORACE LORIMER, EDITOR Five Cents the Copy From Ail Newsdealers. By Subscription: To the United States and Possessions. Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Cuba, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Guatemala, Haiti, Isle of Pines, Labrador, Mexico, Newfoundland, Nicaragua, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, Republic of Honduras, Salvador, Spain and Uruguay, $2.00 the Year Remit by U. S. Money Order, Express Money Order, Check or by Draft, payable in U. 5. Funds. To Canada—By Subscription, $2.00 the Year. Single Copies, Five Cents— Canadian or U. S. Funds To Foreign Countries, exclusive of those mentioned above, by subscrip- tion, post paid, $6.00 the Year. Remittances to be by Postal or Express Money Order or by Draft on a bank in the U, S., payable in U. S. Funds. PHILADELPHIA, NOVEMBER 6G, 1926 The High Cost of Sickness R. C. C. BURLINGAME, in addressing a recent con- D vention, made a striking and timely plea for the wider application of business methods to hospital operation and for the enforcement of those economies without which the high cost of sickness will never be reduced. No other country had raised hospital construction to the high level it has attained in America. Our institutional buildings are characterized by beauty, cheerfulness, con- venience, healthfulness and an extraordinary suitability, n gross and in detail, for the purpose for which they were erected. Highly skilled experts supervise the smallest minutie of plan and equipment, and devise meritorious improvements almost daily. Able and enthusiastic men and women staff most of these institutions, and as a net result they serve certain groups with a perfection which fifteen or twenty years ago would have seemed incredible. Extremes meet in the personnel of the group that gets the completest service, for among these happy patients are both the very rich and the very poor. The wealthy enjoy every diagnostic, medical, surgical and therapeutic advan- tage the.institution can muster because they are able to pay for it whatever be its cost. The indigent command the skill of crack surgeons and specialists and receive very much the same sort of treatment for nothing, or next to nothing, beeause no hospital worthy of the name is content to give a patient anything less than its best. A large percentage of hospital inmates lack these advan- tages, for it is they who are the great financial middle class, composed of self-respecting persons who are too proud to accept free service and too poor to be able to afford costly private rooms, highly paid surgeons and the expensive laboratory studies which have done so much to take the guesswork out of modern medicine and surgery. They flock to the cheapest rooms, employ the best professional service they can pay for, deny themselves all but the most essen- tial attention, and finally leave the institution with de- pleted savings, after having received less for their money than the free patient got for nothing. In other words, they are penalized for their self-respect and for their. deter- mination to pay their own way. Common observation goes to confirm the truth of the picture Doctor Burlingame has drawn; but conclusive THE SATURDAY EVENING POST proof of its correctness is to be found in the earnest efforts of progressive boards of managers to better the conditions he has pointed out, and to bring all hospital facilities within the reach of persons of moderate means. The first step in this direction is wise employment of funds and entire elimination of waste. These imply the universal adoption of scientific accounting methods, accurate cost-keeping systems, standardization of supplies, conservation of ma- terial, skillful purchasing, and that eternal vigilance with- out which real economy never thrives. Even the best-managed hospitals show an operating deficit. This must be wiped out by income from endow- ment, state or municipal aid, appropriations from local welfare organizations or private contributions. Well- managed hospitals should be regarded not as charities but as quasi-public utilities, and as such they should be able to command the loyal support of all who are within their sphere of service; for the more they can count on the pub- lic, the more the public can count on them. The problem of cheaper hospital facilities is everywhere being agitated, and it can and will be solved as soon as the business men of the country and their powerful organiza- tions attack it in force and apply to it methods similar to those which have brought efficiency and economy into their own successful enterprises. There is no field of humane endeavor in which business leaders can produce more beneficent results, if they will enter it in a big way and give their best thought to its peculiar needs. Suburban Openings for City Shops WO or three years ago a long-headed Yankee who furnishes financial and commercial statistics to his subscribers, many of whom are investment brokers, sug- gested that city bond houses might very well consider the wisdom of opening branch offices in suburban communi- ties. Many of their customers, he reasoned, are elderly men and women who habitually use motor cars. They are too old to make light of the hazards of traffic jams during visits to the city, and they are therefore inclined to make them as few and as far between as possible. If they could do their financial shopping unhindered by blocks and de- lays and inconvenient parking restrictions, their business would naturally flow into local quarters in which it could be pleasantly and easily transacted without loss of time. If this argument had any force in 1923 or 1924, it has twice as much today, for during the intervening years city traffic congestion has month by month become perceptibly worse. We are unaware of the extent to which investment bankers followed this counsel; but there are many in- stances in which city specialty shops have adopted the idea. They found that many of their suburban women customers who drive their own cars did as much of their buying as possible in neighborhood shops, preferring to pay suburban prices rather than plunge into the vortex of the downtown traffic jam. The only way to regain this lost business was to bring the city shop to the suburban buyer. This has been done by many progressive merchants, especially those who cater to a feminine trade. This movement from city to suburb is perhaps still too young to be declared signally successful; and yet it would seem as if the steady increase in density of urban traffic is weighty evidence of the wisdom of such a development. The Johnson Act Under Fire HE new session of Congress will presently be enlivened by several simultaneous attacks upon the Johnson Im- migration Act. The enemies of this measure are never idle. They never stap to take breath or falter while they are getting their-second wind. When Congress is in session they are at work day and night in the open. During the recess they are equally active under the cover of national societies, racial groups and local organizations. Smash the Johnson Act is the slogan of every alien gathering whose personnel traces back to Southern or Eastern Europe. Some of the speakers at these meetings have given utterance to sentiments which are so hostile to America and to free American institutions that if generally braad- cast they would arouse an overwhelming determination November 6, 1926 on the part of Congress to keep on the safe side by forbid- ding practically all immigration. Stenographic reports of the proceedings of soine of these alien meetings would make sensational reading; and we should not be sorry to see some of them incorporated in the hearing reports of the House Committee on Immigration. Last summer certain racial groups and self-seeking in- terests of native origin made elaborate attempts to defeat the renomination of Chairman Johnson of the House Com- mittee on Immigration when he came before the primaries in the state of Washington last September. This effort resu:ted in a dismal failure, for the man from Hoquiam was triumphantly renominated by a liberal plurality. The episode was not, however, without national importance, for it was a striking example of the lengths to which certain interests will go in their determination to thwart the vet of the majority and to impose the will of Europe on America. The nation is fully forewarned; and if we are not fore- armed we shall have no one to blame but ourselves. As Others See Us OME Americans have a tendency to be touchy and S oversensitive, and to attach too much importance to what is said about us by the writers and speakers of other lands. The mere fact that the opinion expressed is a foreign dictum gives it, in their eyes, an importance to which it is rarely entitled. Obscure visitors, minor novel- ists and unknown penny-a-liners from Europe all have their fling at us, and immediately some of us become as hot under the collar as if their opinions really mattered one way or the other. Scores of young men who could not qualify for a forty-dollar-a-week job on an American news- paper or earn their salt in a live business house have suc- eeeded in setting oversensitive souls by the ears merely because what they said was cabled across the Atlantic. Sensitiveness to these frothy criticisms often blunts one’s perceptions in regard to matters of real significance A satirical diatribe cabled over by some Fleet Street space writer so enrages some of us that we momentarily ignore the cordiality of our official relations with his country. The British Foreign Office may have been straining every nerve to meet our Department of State more than halfway in some delicate negotiation, and yet the obscurist scribbler has it in his power to neutralize the good feeling that should grow out of these responsible manifestations of good-will by flicking us on the raw with a ten-dollar dispatch. Just as it is possible to throw a brickbat farther than a bouquet, unfavorable criticism always has the widest pub- licity, while European admiration for American achieve- ments rarely registers on this side of the water. If we are to believe the foreign press, America is the eighth and greatest wonder of the world. Our material achievements are discussed with admiration and frank wonderment. Our industrial methods are the despair of foreign competi- tors. Our harmonious relations between labor and capital are the envy of the world. Our high wages and low pro- duction costs form the daily theme of overseas editors. The only countries on the globe in which our standards of living are not envied are those in which the rumors of our prosperity are regarded as mere fairy tales too extravagant to merit the credence of grown men. Of course, European writers are at a loss to understand why an inscrutable Providence has seen fit to shower such abundant blessings upon a people so much less worthy of divine favor than their own; but the fact itself is accepted and broadcast. The most striking truth in regard to foreign comment upon America is one which rarely occurs to us, though it is constantly in the minds of the real leaders of thought across the water. This fact is.that the New World’s opin- ions of the Old World and her attitude toward it are quite as important as the Old World’s sentiments in regard to the New. The history of the next century, perhaps that of many centuries, will pivet more upon the former than upon the latter. Once arrived at a full realization of this relationship, our thin skins will rapidly toughen. Abuse is so inseparable frem success and power that it may often be accepted as conclusive proof of their existence. MAL ine M Hs \s it i, | Va

Page 37

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ORIKING FOR Tile TICKET FE SAT—the four of us—in the chairman's ornate summor TI andidate’s a good er—inevery way the truth to t candidate myself, since room at state-committee headquarters, plunged I mean —and we've been playing her up in the pub r of her in profoundest gloom. Thicker, darker than the terest because Paris millinery is still a novelty in the ring We forgave her the dig and the plagiar heavy pall of cigar smoke that blurred the battered photos But the county ieaders complain that they don’t want her heered. Then the chairman did the } of departed bosses gazing pityingly on us from the walls, on the stump. Her short-skirt, rolled-st ng stuff goes he said, ‘‘at last 1 understand why women ars hung over our spirits the shadow of a perplexing problem. well enough in the cities, they admit, but out in the stich in politics.” For we were facing that which politicians and political or- the farmers’ wives are protesting. They say it doesn't lool ganizations alike dread above all things—a new situation right for her to sit on a platform with her knees crossed Frankly, I never learned just W r woman mem! unsolvable by reference to party precedent \ lot of farmers’ wives, you understand, don’t wear ¢ put her message acr but t In this case the problem was: Who should tell our lone | stockings and their kr and there are other differences. dismissed the incident as one disn many pr n feminine candidate to stop rolling her gay and silken hose? So they tell the leaders t indidate isn’t refined i the heat of a campaig The ca é t There weren't many difficulties which could thus have they're going to vote against her. I'm not so worried on a very important office and, besides, it was a general car daunted our hand-picked little group. Among us were two _ her account, you understand, but I can’t help feeling that paign, which, in our state, means almost certair men expertly versed in the experiences and expediencies of the reaction will hurt our whole ticket in the upstate the dominant party, regardless minor errors. I tell t politics, and a woman whose social position and attain- counties.” story simply to illustrate the diversity of problems w! ments out-Warded the late Mr. McAllister himself. There He paused to let that sweetly solemn thought sink was the chairman, shrewd, calm, observant, and wise with Then he turned to me. ‘‘ Now,” said the chairman, “I campaigns. the political wisdom which comes only to those who have don’t want to get into a discussion with the dame myself. I have worked for the ticket through both general and fought their way from election-day pullers of doorbells to It mightn’t look right. So I guess it’s up to you to tell her primary campaigns; through purely, though not nece local bossdom and beyond. There was the first and the that what we’re running here is a political campaign, nota __ sarily pure, local campaigns; I have seen campaigns w ‘ most powerful of his city lieutenants, a man whose proud beauty contest.” candidates teetered at times dangerously close to what boast it was, and whose epitaph it may some day be, that I saw the chairman’s point, of course, but doubted that I Roosevelt once called “the lunatic fringe,”’ and camy he ‘“‘ecarried the river wards in his vest pocket.”” There was could make our charming candidate see it. So I demurred. directed by leaders of smoothly geared political m the head of the women’s committee, who by clever appli- There was some discussion, but the guardian of the river I am familiar with the framing of 1es, the sels cation of wide social experience to the problems of politics wards came nobly to my aid. assignment of speakers, the distribution of pr had won from these two a reluctant yet sincere admiration. ““Why tell her at all?’’ he demanded. “Let her alone. through press, pamphlet and poster, the direct And lastly there was myself, who performed the variety Everybody knows that knees are popular, no matter what rallies, the raising of funds—all the manifold activities e1 of campaign duties which, for lack of a better name, are’ the hicks say. Think of Ann Pennington! Think of Mis- tailed in convincing a large and frequently indifferent ele grouped under the general head of “‘publicity.”” To us, tinguette! Think of the Follies chorus!” torate that the salvation of the mmonwealth and t then, had come this unprecedented problem to disturb the We all sat around and thought of them for a while—for assurance of individual prosperity depended harmony of a state-wide campaign, which, we flattered quite a while, in fact—until a refined and ladylike little election of a certain candidate. Out of it all I've emerge ourselves, had theretofore been directed rather smoothly, snort from the women’s leader roused us from the pleasant with a profound respect for the efficiency if not for the everything considered. reverie. ethics of the so-called political machine, with a sometime ‘You see, it’s this way,”’ the chairman had explained “The brothers,” she sneered, ‘“‘may not be so valiant, lessened regard for the candidate ind with an attitude when I crashed the conference in response to a frantic but the sisters are, if nothing else, veracious. I'll speak Continued on Page 150 — Speaking From a Cart to a Noonday Meeting

Page 38

I i | cc") . os] Chesterfietdian Pedestrian: **‘Woutd You be So Kind as to Back a Little, Madam; You're on My Foot’"’ Polly Wood of Hollywood ISS POLLY WOOD of Hollywood is good as good can be ; The strongest drink she ever lakes is coffee, milk, or tea; When not employed, she'll sit and think, or even only sit; Vo folly would Miss Polly Wood of Hollywood commit. Viss Polly Wood of Hollywood is simple as a rose; e wears no rings upor her thumbs, no bells upon her loe She hates the sight of limousines, and should she wish to rid: 9 Fair Hollywood a trolley would for Polly Wood provide. Wiss Polly Wood of Hollywood arises with the lark, Is safe at home at 6 P.M., abed before the dark. She’s fond of books and healthful sport and dogs, and longs for more: Viss Polly Wood of Hollywood a collie would adore! Viss Polly Woed of Hollywood is just a lovely child Who never heard of wicked ways or parties rough and wild : ind if you think of sending her a gift and want advice, Polly Wood of Hollywood a dolly would be nice. Vises Polly Wood of Hollywood is free of moral smirch; ind some day when the camera is focused on her church, jroup of cherubim will bring—though sundry imps may carp Polly Wood of Hollywood a halo and a harp! Arthur Gui eran, Note: All the characters in the above poem are strictly The Police Reporter’s Manual The police immediately threw out a dragnet W! \T did the police do after the crime? ANS: er the cits When is an arrest exper ted? \Ns.: Arrest of the criminal is expected within a few Who conducted the raid? \ns.: A crack squad of picked officers. What was the net result of the raid this morning when ‘ty gallons of liquor were confiscated ? \ns.: A staggering blow was dealt the bootleggers. Describe the murdered girl. \Ns.: The slain girl was young and pretty and dressed the height of fashion. She is said to have been a former tress, 36 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SHORT TURN Are homely girls ever murdered? ANS.: No. What caused the fire? Ans.: The blaze is believed to have origi a carelessly tossed cigarette. Why did the policeman fire? ANns.: The gallant officer fired in self-defer Do cops ever fire except in self-defense ANs.: Only in years when the paper is not suppor ing the administration. Who was seen near the scene of the crime? iated fr ‘ial register. November 6, 1926 AIINID EINCORES Who is at the head of the clique of beer runners? ANs.: A sinister master mind. Who was captured in the raid on the road house? ANs.: Some of the most fashionable people in the « Dewey M. Owe Geometrical Progression _ Y NEXT novel?” repeated the author. “It’s going to be about a rounder who is involved in a triangle He pretends to be on the square, but in his own sphere everyone knows he is all or the surface. The other man is many-sided, but withal obtuse, despite his solid qualities. I think it will be a book on an entirely differ- ent plane.” Inspired Writing HE minister’s little girl had been watching her father prepare his next Sun day morning sermon. Daddy,”’ she aske d, does God tell you what to say when you write your sermon?” ‘“‘Why, yes, of course, dear.” She thought it over fora second, and then asked, “Then, daddy, why do you keep on scratching words out?” New Names for Old ISS CABOT tripped I down the garden path, 1 caressing, even touching with her lips, the flowers and fruits she loved so well. She knewthem so intimately that it almost seemed to her that she could understand what they were saying. She thrust her nose into the cup of a Bride poppy—Papaver somniferum—and inhaled deeply. A drowsy, far-away feeling possessed her. She could hear what it was saying. Ah, the sweet mur- murs of the gentle flowerets! “*T knew her when she was HAWN BY ROBERT L. DICKEY Dogville Items. Oh, Boy! There is a Noticeable Waning of the Poputarity of Deacon White's Noah This Morning. Noah Tackled What He Thought Was a Cat Last Night — But it Wasn't ANs.: A swarthy indi- vidual with a searred face was seen lurking near the scene of the crime. How did the bandits es- cape? Ans.: The bandits fled in a powerful motor car. Do bandits ever use or dinary automobiles? ANs.: No. Whatdescriptionshould be used when two holdups occur the same night? Ans.: Anunprecedented crime wave. Describe the female bandit. ANs.: She was young and pretty with delicate features and bobbed hair. What did the young murderer discuss? ANs.: The stoical young slayer discussed the clas- sics with reporters. Pessimist: “‘Thankful! Who, Me? just a wild field daisy, and glad enough to grow in a Continued on Page 98 DRAWN BY G. 8. INWOOD I Have Nothing to be Thankful For, Thank God"’ — — = “ = —_ ee ee oe Fe ar ae

Page 39

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST There's a meal in this delicious blend of 15 garden vegetables, beef broth, cereals and tempting herbs! “Your vegetable soup is so delicious and all over the count elling

So substantial that | often have it for my appreciation of the nourishing quality of | luncheon with very little else. I also find it a Campbell’s Vegetable Soup. Certainly it 1 : : Irprising that this soup 1s so often eaten \ | splendid supper. It is certainly a comfort to MO! SUTPMsing ft ee | ; as a meal, when you consider the many HN have such an attractive meal always ready and ‘“, Ht elf!” different and hearty ingredients that are Y< ll} convenient on my pantry shell: blended in it. Thirty-two in all! This was a very welcome letter which a Let Campbell’s chefs and Campbell’s housewife recently wrote to us. It expressed kitchens help you every day. | heir soups what we have heard from hundreds of others are so delightful—and so easy to serve! 32 ingredients 12 cents a can Cc

C MPBELL y yup COMPANY Camcr

WITH THE MEAL OR A$ A MEAL SOUP BELONGS 1 N THE DAILY DIET

Page 40

- THE FOOL RID ly fLecLvWU \y--« SATURDAY EVENING POST By LOWELL OTUS REESE ST & #&#TFT EE D os November 6,1926 DONALD TEAGUE “I Cert'ny Never Hoped to See Anybody Go By, This Late in the Season; But I Hoped, Anyhow. I —I———"’ He Broke Down and Wept Miserably NAMPED in the bottom of Rainbow Canyon, old cast a doubtful eye upward before rolling into his blankets. Seen between the high rims of the canyon, the sky showed its accustomed sheet stars did not shine with their usual clear radiance and a querulous breeze came and went among the ilders. Moreover, into.the joyous chatter of Rainbow (reek had crept a hushed, melancholy overtone. An uneasy Becke' Smit f stars; but the wi hooted from the top of the rim, half a mile in the sky. Old Beckel was uneasy also. He was a lean, gaunt man He had a sensitive with a two-inch stubble on his face. and keen kindly blue eyes that looked out upon his world from beneath grizzled brows. He spread his blan- kets upon the ground and looked up again. The stars seemed even dimmer than before. He brought his precious winter tore of flour, sugar, beans and bacon close to his bed of fir boughs, so that his greasy old pack cover would cover bed and all. Then he turned in with a weary sigh and went im- mediately to sleep. He had come twenty-five miles that iv, d ng his slow-footed donkey. \ bout daybreak the old prospector came suddenly awake. \ scattered pattering fell upon the dead madrona leaves d he sprang from his blankets, on the instant wide awake ind acting. One glance upward told him that the stars were gone. He flung fresh fuel upen the smoldering embers f his camp fire and by the light the leaping flames afforded s donkey and lashed the canvas pack He did not even wait to make coffee, but climbed upon iddle hor ind herded the protesting donkey up the teep zigzag trail toward the canyon rim. The rain was { ng stead ) time; a cold, insistent rain that ittered in a dreary n tone upon the stiff madrona eaves, and in the air was the indefinable chill of approach- wint Phere wind I'wo or three hund: yards below the summit the trail turned and slanted a Murphy Slide, a long scar in the mountain where ages ag id occurred a cataclysmic cav- away of the earth. It was about six hundred yards je and extended from tl summit down to the bed of the anyon, a great, slippery chute. On the right the steep ard slope crowded the trail; on the left it fell away steeply A single step to the left meant death. Halfway across the dangerous place old Beckel stopped his horse abruptly and leaned over, studying the ground. “Looks like somebody went over,”’ he muttered, and dismounted. A donkey’s tracks showed, evidently a day or two old; a man’s tracks also, and Smith’s heart sank at the prospect of a long, perilous search for the body—-for no man might go down that chute and live. Whoever it had been, if he went over the edge he was dead. However, studying the ground more closely in the gath- ering light, Beckel discovered that the man had not gone down the chute with his donkey after all. The boot tracks turned and went back toward the rim, but the donkey tracks did not accompany them. The inference was plain, and old Beckel could see the tragedy as though he had been there. He climbed back into the saddle and hurried to catch up with his pack. ‘“*Feller’s jackass just naturally went to sleep and walked over the edge of the trail,’’ he said, “‘and the coyotes are havin’ a feed down there among the rocks somewhere.” He overtook his own donkey at the farther edge of the Slide and jogged on up the trail to the summit. The rain had changed and was half snow—a cold, cheerless spatter that clung and chilled. A blue wind greeted him as he rode over the rim, and he drew his slicker closer about him and pulled his hat low above his eyes. It was broad day now; and as he crossed the summit of the rim he came to a rude bark shelter and saw a man crouched beside a smudgy fire, chin on his breast and his hands hanging between his knees, his whole attitude advertising utter despondency. The man lifted his head as Smith came opposite, then with difficulty arose and hobbled out to the trail, leaning upon an improvised crutch. “Brother,” “I'm cert’ny glad to see you!” bodied man with sandy hair and pale eyebrows and lashes His neck was thick, seamed by deep wrinkles that cut the rough skin in diamonds, and his hands were covered by yellow blotches. ‘‘My name's Rudie,’’ he went on, the words tumbling out in a sobbing torrent—‘‘ Pel Rudie i My pack yesterday, and choked with emotion, He was a squat, thick- voice he said, his ass went down the Slide day before everything I owned went down with him— blankets, grub, tobacco—even my rifle!”’ ‘“*T saw where it happened,” said Beckel. “ You’ re hurt ain’t you?” “Hurt bad and he drug me over the edge with him, but I caught a bus} and hung on. Then a rollin’ rock hit my laig and nearly busted it in two. Can't walk none at all on this stick—and I been sittin’ here ever since, though I didn’t expect anybody to come by. I cert’ny ne to see anybody go by, this late in the season; but I hoped, anyhow. I—I . He broke down and wept miserably stiffly to the ground. “Aw, say!”’ he protested awkwardly. now, ole-timer! Say, I'll fix you up some grub and then I’ll take you on to my camp. I got a good cabin over on Buckhorn Meadows, at the foot of Garbey Hill. It’s only fifteen miles, and when I get you to my cabin you can rest there till your laig’s well.” “Brother,” said the overjoyed cripple, ‘ Yes, sir, a prince!” His voice was tremulous and it embarrassed Beckel. The old prospector’s movements seemed slow, but incred ibly soon he had a good fire built in place of the smudgy had ,’ said Rudie. ‘I was hangin’ to the halter just hop a little ver hoped Old Beckel climbed ‘You're all right ‘you're a prince! one, and bacon and coffee were smoking hot. He missed his own breakfast, so the two men ate together, the injured man wolfing his meal ravenously, meanwhile uttering voluble encomiums upon his good Samaritan “Brother,” he said, time and again, ‘“‘you’re a prince! | was cert’ny expectin’ to die, right here, all by myself!” He looked across the fire, stark terror in his red-rimmed eyes. ‘ Why,” he said positively, ‘I didn’t have a chance! Not a Chinaman’s chance! No grub, no blankets, no gun, and a snowstorm comin’ on! I'd have died You cert’ny have to for- couldn't walk You've saved my life, brother. saved my life, and old Pel Rudie ain’t never goin’ sure! get it!” They spent but little time over the meal, for the air had darkened again and the storm was increasing in violence Old Beckel took off his slicker and gave it to the crippled Continued on Page 40

Page 41

l Ideal climate, rich pastures, well-fed cows, clean farms— all contribute to the superior quality of the milk from which Brookfield Cheese is made. 2 Sweet and fresh, this high- grade milk is received daily at clean and sanitary cheese factories where it is made into cheese. 3 At our refrigerated plants this cheese is carefully aged and blended to produce the fine flavor and texture characteris- tic of Brookfield Cheese. It is then pasteurized and packed in foil-lined half-pound and five- pound cartons. The name Brookfield on the carton is your assurance of uniform, unvarying, fine qual- ity cheese made from the finest of materials, manufactured with the utmost care, and brought to your retailer in per- fect condition. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST > Ww service oi way in which Swift & Company is broadening the market for the product of American farms is illustrated by Brookfield Cheese, sold only in packages UYING cheese used to be a gamble, because of the great variation in quality and flavor. Drying out, cracking, crumbling, and waste in cutting made the old-fashioned cheese an unsatisfactory product for dealers to handle. These reasons limited the sale of this important farm product, with the result that the average American ate less than five pounds of cheese a year. Half-pound and five-pound loaves, in individual packages, have changed all this because cheese is no longer exposed in the store and keeps well in the home. Brookfield Cheese in packages is an as- surance of high quality and uniformly fine flavor. Selling cheese in this way is one of the impor- tant recent developments in the marketing of farm products. Food dealers everywhere are enabled to handle it, and a new appreciation of this nutritious food is being built up. By bringing this more desirable cheese to the consumer, Swift’s Food Service is broadening the market for another product of the American farm. Swift & Company Founded 1868 Owned by more than 46,000 shareholders

Page 42

(Continued from Page 38 man, heiped him into the saddle and they started, Beckel Smith walking and urging the jackass along the trail, Rudie riding behind, still profanely voluble in his protestations of gratitude. You saved my life, brother,”’ he continued to reiterate. ‘You're treatin’ me royal; and believe me, Pel Rudie never forgets a good guy! You're a prince, brother! You ert'’ny are a prince!”’ It was a rough, dangerous trip, for the half-obliterated trail they followed was narrow and broken, slippery from e slushy rain. Night was coming on when they reached the lonely little cabin on Buckhorn Meadows and the snow had changed to a cold rain once more. Old Beckel was yaked and chilled to the bone. However, he established his injured guest comfortably by a roaring fire and made supper before attending to his animals—a thing he had never done before Later, sitting before the warm fire, the two men smoked in drowsy relaxation, listening to the thunder of the rain on the roof. The storm increased steadily in violence and the water streamed through the darkness in torrents. Above the noise of the rain they were conscious of the long monot- onous roaring of the wind that tore across the higher ridges. “‘Worst storm I’ve seen in twenty years,’’ observed Beckel. “What if you hadn’t come along this mornin’?”’ 2udie, and shivered. ‘“‘Think of me out in a night like this—no grub, no blankets, dyin’ up yonder with a busted laig!”’ “You'd have died, all right!” viction. “‘T’d have died right there!’’ Rudie shuddered again, listening to the storm. ‘I hadn’t a Chinaman’s chance!”’ Just before they turned in for the night the man Rudie looked at his host with awakened curiosity. ‘‘Whatever are you doin’, anyway, brother,” he asked, “away back here in the hills?” ‘“*Prospectin’,”” Smith told him. “Found anything yet?” Beckel hesitated, then fished in his pocket with gnarled fingers and brought out a piece of dirty gray quartz about v2 said agreed Beckel with con- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the size of a walnut. It was an ugly bit of rock, but it was shot through and through with rich flecks and streaks of yellow. On one side it was literally plastered with the same splendid coloring. Rudie’s eyes gleamed as }.e turned the specimen in his thick fingers. “Free gold!”’ he exclaimed, the breath quickening in his hairy throat. ‘‘Ledge or pocket , “That’s what I’m aimin’ to find out,”’ said the prospector. ““Where’d you find it?” Now this is a question which | no one even halfway grounded in the ethics of prospecting will ask another. Beckel Smith was slow in replying. Then, “Down Tom Bell Creek,’”’ he said honestly. “Maybe half a mile or so below the Fool Ridge bluff. Found it in the creek about a month ago.” ““Couldn’t have come far,” said Rudie, contemplating the rough surface of the rock. “‘ Ain’t wore hardly any at all.” ‘‘No,” agreed the prospector. “‘T reckon it come down off of Garbey Hill. Couldn’t have come from Fool Ridge, of course, for Fool Ridge is hungry ground. No quartz there, and, besides, Tom the formation ain’t right for gold. No, sir, that quartz come down off of Garbey Hill and I’m goin’ to find the ledge it come from. Ought to be a good big ledge too. It don’t look like stringer rock to me, nor pocket either.” Rudie continued to turn the piece of quartz in his fingers and the golden light smiled up at him from the tantalizing streaks and points of rich yellow. His fingers were trem- bling when he handed it reluctantly back. “Ought to make yourich,” he suggested, “‘ rock like that.” November 6, 1926 “‘I’d never have to worry about my winter’s grub no more,”’ smiled the old prospector. ‘‘A few tons of that stuff would be enough to keep me all my life. Well,” he ended whimsically, ‘‘it’s about time I was findin’ her. | been huntin’ my big strike for forty-fifty years.” “Say,” said Rudie heartily, ‘fhere’s hopin’ you find it, brother! You got it comin’ to you, all right! Most big strikes are made by worthless characters that don’t deserve ’em; but you got it comin’ to you, brother. You | cert’ny have! You're a prince!” im JOR three days the heavy | downpour continued, but on | the fourth day the sky cleared suddenly and the sun came out. tudie and Smith stood in front of the cabin, looking about at a clean-washed world. Every gulch roared with yellow water. Tom Bell Creek was a raging river, with rotten wood and brown leaves riding upon its | muddy surface. Across Tom Bell Creek, every gully poured its tumbling flood down the slope of Garbey Hill, seaming the po- . rous soil and rattling loose rocks Bett into the creek below. Farther down the creek Fool Ridge stood grim and craggy, its breast a sheer precipice that dropped for a thousand feet to the creek bed. ‘Lucky we had a good cabin,”’ observed Rudie. ‘‘ They was enough water fell to drown a duck.”’ “Pretty good cabin,”’ conceded Smith with satisfaction. “Ought to be—I spent all summer buildin’ her.” “Nice flat too.”” Rudie regarded the level sweep of land all about the cabin, with its scattered clumps of firs. Continued on Page 140 in Two Strides Old Beckel Smith Had Reached the Table and Fiung Himself Across it, Grappling Rudie's Thick Neck in His Gnarled Hands

Page 43

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Asking merely for Light? "Medium? or“ Heavy ” oil never assures accurate lubrication. Progres- sive dealers prefer to supply: / y The Mobiloil dade equips dealers to ofite exact lubrication for any car made. Mm BOR com Se == Mot ‘“*BB’’ the No matter what odie or - model of car you drive-- — APS wad y, a Nake this an ¢ “eS you with the correct YO C HA RT HON é agora ' - piete Mobilos 7 him i inearby Nik biloil d } your guide CELE Mobiloil ~ — the chart your guide _| | Cadi > ae ee ke ml ee AES the Mobiloil dealer the next tu you have your crankcase and refilled. = 7 y 0 eek oe, TT a ‘ — C pone § a eaten Nok tae Wal Ld VACUUM OF COMPANY fone taser een, Other branches and distributing warehouses throughout t]

Page 44

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1500 business and professional men say..... What a man eats when he’s twenty-five is more than likely to influence what he earns when he’s fifty . . . That’s the summing up of the opinions of 1500 solidly successful Americans. You know these men. Their names are in ““Who’s Who in America”. Their achievements make front-page stories for the newspapers. The world listens respectfully to their opinions on bond-issues and biology; on international law and architecture; on railroad administration and astronomy . . . Seems as if their opinions on diet might deserve respectful consideration! This is the kind of nourishment that produces highest efficiency of mind and body ..... “Diet is one-half of power.” “Proper food is the prime factor for a business man.” “By learn- ing the value of a careful food régime, I have greatly increased my working power, as well as ny enjoyment of life.” “Diet is a vital factor in increasing or destroying human efficiency.” 1§00 answers of this kind poured in, when a ientific institute recently asked opinions on diet from a selected list of famous Americans . . . Their letters emphasized, particularly, the im- ortance of a proper breakfast. Begin your day, they say, with a small amount of food, for the sake of mental alertness. But be sure you're get- ting a large amount of nourishment—or you run T } » » » the risk of mental and physical fatigue, nerve- strain and decreased efficiency. Grape-Nuts is a delicious food which perfectly fulfills breakfast requirements. A single serving, eaten with whole milk or cream, gives the body a generous supply of well balanced nourish- ment. Grape-Nuts supplies dextrins, maltose and other carbohydrates for heat and energy; iron for the blood; phosphorus for teeth and bones; protein for muscle and body-building; and the essential vitamin’B, a builder of the appetite. Grape-Nuts is made from wheat and malted barley, prepared by aspecial baking process which brings out the tempting, nut-like flavor, makes the food readily digestible and makes it crisp. There is an important reason for this crispness. Grape-Nuts is one of the Postur Company Products, which incluc nstant Postum, Postum Cereal, P ies (Double-thick Corn Fla Flakes, Post's Bran Chocolate Down Cake Flour and milk food-drink. T It was designed to provide exercise for your teeth and gums. Thorough chewing 1s one of nature's primary health laws. For its crispness and its flavor, for its ready digestibility, and its balanced nourishment- choose Grape-Nuts. . . . Your grocer sells it, of course. Perhaps you will wish to accept the following offer. “A Book of Better Break fasts — and two servings of Grape-Nuts, free! Mail the coupon below and we will send you two in- dividual packages of Grape-Nuts, free. We l also “A Book of Better Breakfasts”, writter \ 14 physical director C) 1926, P.C. Co. iaers G.—S. E. P.—11-6-26 IS COUP( ' TY y y MAIL TH IN NOW! i] I uM Cerear (x ANY, IN Bartie Creex, Micu } I SET fr two tr kages of Grape-Nut together th “A Book of Better Breakfast | physical director of Cornell Medical Coll Fug Be ge. | City State ||— —_ — —_ - - = In Canada, Addr ( ADIAN Postum Cereat Company, Lrp Denne & : ° 1 wating 48 I to 2, ( November 6, 1926

Page 45

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 43 SPEED WINES rT th By Lieut. Al Williams, U. S. N. tion of the trophy and the solid gold plaque, and after strug- gling through nu- merous parties and receptions, I packed up and ame back to \W ashington to write out my re- ports. It was in- teresting to note the great progress n point of speed which this race had topped in fit- ting style. In 1920 he Pulitzer Race held on Long Is- and, New York, it Mitchel Field, had been won by apt. C. Moseley, S.A., ataspeed f 156.54 miles an our. In 1921 the Omaha Pulitzer had been won by Bert Acosta, flying Navy ship ata speed of 176.76 miles an hour. In 1922 Lieutenant Maughan,U.S.A., won the event in Detroit at 205.81 miles an hour, and n 1923 1 won the St. Louis Pulitzer ut 243.68 miles an boay empted Primitive Land:-Bound Navy Training Plane Flying Over the U.S. 5. West Virginia in 10Il, the Year Glenn H. yur The march has been steadily onward and upward, and_ with no limit on the number of runs, and permit the no one knows where it will end, and one guess is as good to choose the four best consecutive runs is another. The rules also prescribe that while on It is strange how small a great ambition which has been plane must maintain an altitude less than realized can finally appear to be. For years in a general rules were made and promulgated by t} way and for months in an intensive fashion I had longed Aviation Association, called the Fédérat to win a Pulitzer race, and had planned night and day for Internationale, in which each country the great event. In my intensive study and preoccupation national chapter | was no joyful addition to any party or convivial gath- In our own country our national branch of that org ering ization is called the National Aeronautic Association, There was no rest or amusement for me. I wanted just under whose supervision all aviation meets and all me thing and wanted it badly; and I had thought that attempts at the making of world’s records are held f I should win that event I should be contented and happy. For this particular event the National Aeronautic As sociation had furnished the timekeepers and the watchers it rez 1id not KI D result ad been exceller But oh, no! Human nature is made of such strange at height tuff. I had won and had accomplished my great task, and and judges to check the time, and observers to see thi now it looked much smaller and much less important; and the plane was in level flight for one kilometer before an during the entire course, and also to superintend the tr A as the reaction from intense effort to comparative quiet rd, and we the limit made itself felt I left the scene of my t aching to No ha amed. We greatest success, bored and restless. A New Mark TMHE next mark that the Chief of the Bureau of Aeronautics, Ad- miral Moffett, insisted upon captur- ng was the three-kilometer world’s speed record. The three-kilometer event re- iired that the plane be flown twice each direction over a course meas- ring the distance mentioned. The ming is done by electrical devices ch are placed at each end of the surse, and the planes are required be in level flight for at least one lometer before passing the timers’ tands. he time readings taken in four passages over the course are added ind divided by four, and the rules rescribe that for the making of s world’s speed record four runs be considered as a group, The Result of a Slight Error in the Pilot's Judgment of His Distance From the Grour n a Continued

Page 46

SH th en } ] cn | x che l W pain 1 11 ; a2 D a g. “~ ] N\) ( 1uch Cx \ thy y ( } ix Yo } + ibbing. al Nat is che p. And | Ce ir FOULDN ? that smiling \"\ white ! in the pict ] | ’ 4 } if ) cn ip iw kitchen will buv it. Or an that represe and practic VC $a ) Rugs are iad ri ! rh 1) Ml 1 ] + r rs 4 \

blue ire Drightel \ most THE SATURDAY EVENING POST je flie' 7) .. 2 G

November 6, 1926

DIE MAGIC MAG NOE MAGGIE MAGN IEAM MDA IEM ABW IEMA S p | -_. in an attractive kitchen you can brighten your kitchen hours with a pretty, labor-saving Congoleum Gold Seal Rug n ‘<é a it £ ¥ | f | eWOICMIOW OICMDGOW SCMDOW SEM GOW ICM

“ GOLD SEAL GUARANTEE SATISFACTION GUARANTEED OR YOUR MONEY BACK REMOVE SEAL WITH WET CLOTH

Patterns for other rooms, too —— X you can save work and brighten up } fe ; h with Con leum G Veal Art-Rugs. For there’s ( ru il ( pat rn ) iy | ) if tC rt) cn Wal f livi cy m l dining ym: a bright, inf \ tect the be rooms and sun- porch. What a chance they offer eplace old t l

— Home Beautifying Booklet! . | worn floor-co\ rings economically ] : . ‘ look for the Remember, though, to Gold Seal Guarantee when you buy! For you want the value—the serviceability and the guaranteed satisfaction which have made Congolet Rugs so popular with sands of practical women. You can renuine by the Gold Seal : Fi j 2 im Gold Seal Art m hundreds of thou alw ivs tell the pasted on the Tace of the rug CONGOL! M NAIRN INC, Pp k ( a , fey

4 j . ws : ; ' ~

Page 47

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

they held together we never shall know. The planes themselves were standing up stoutly evening we were n formed that further trials would be postponed until Sunday afternoon That left all day Saturday with nothing to do and lots of time to doit. I couldn't go to my own home in New York for the good and sufficient reason that the newspapers had been gob- bling this thrilling business and were full of headlines and front-page accounts of the dangers of the contest There were many hazards

Four Navy Speedsters on the Starting Line at St. Louis. Winning Curtiss Ship; No. 10 Lieut. Brow's Runner«Up (Continued from Page 43 I hopped off and climbed up to 4500 feet. After maneu- vering for position I opened the motor wide and pushed the plane’s nose straight for the ground. Things started to whistle. The ground came up with incredible speed. The 1500 feet were wiped out in no time. I slowly and gently brought the plane’s nose up to the level position, and away we sped across the time course. I executed this maneuver four times consecutively, and as I crossed the timer’s stand on the last run I pulled the plane up and circled around the field. I saw the judges pulling out the in it, it is true, and they No. 9 is Lieut. Williams’ : aa . ~ rs lost nothing in the telling I knew my folks would be highly excited, and my best bet was to stay away until it was all over. The next day seemed to drag along as if it would never end, and there seemed to be no end of worries I feared that the danger idea would get to Washington and that further efforts might be forbidden. But the Navy is made of sterner stuff than that. This was a good, honest fight, and the Navy Department would only give the stop sign when further danger involved no benefit. Up to this time Lieutenant Brow had had two tries at kicking the most prized aviation record around and I had only had time for one at- tempt. Then I had the

long white strips of bunt- ing, and I could hardly suppress a wild yell when the strips were placed in the form of a plus sign. We had agreed upon three signals which would in- form the pilot that he must try again to surpass the existing record, or that he had topped it and could come back and land, or that he had been dis- qualified. And there was the plus sign, large as life, which meant that the most precious outstand- ing record for aviation had just been broken. I landed and taxied up to the waiting mechanics, and found that I had been speeding at the rate of 258.61 milesanhour. Be- fore | had stopped rolling, however, I saw the motor

weather to think about, because an unusually long stretch of bad weather might mean an abandon- ment of the trials. I had set my heart on this highest record of all, and so far I had been beaten. Patience was what I needed, and I could well have learned a lesson from the old Byzantine emperor Nicephorus, who quaintly remarked to the lieutenant towhom he had assigned the task of con- tinulng the starvation siege of Antioch while the emperorreturned to spend the winter in Constanti- nople, ‘You may await

the coming of spring withe Sunday would come, of course, but it seemed a time away, about as distant as spring was to that ng Along came the day which was destir t the est day of my life, and it dawned cle seemed in a hurry but myself About ) we make ready. I was waiting on the fie twos and threes all the parties nec ance, and sometime liater the crowd whict 1d Deer tracted to the event by Friday hect happening - in Swarms My motor was warmed up and seemed to be in excellent condition. The blocks were pulled from in front of t wheels and away | went after that record, wl had beer unmolested for a day and a half

This time | climbed to 7000 feet, turned into posit and headed straight down wide oper It was during of these dives from 7000 feet that I arly came to grief. | tried to remain in my dive just as long as possible, ar thus take every possible advantage for every foot lost altitude. Besides, I wanted to fly that leg of the cour where I had to fly against the wind at as low an altitude a possible. You may have noticed that when birds 1 against the wind they travel as close as possible to the ground. The wind velocity lower there than at any other altitude, and as they have been at the busines of flying for quite a while, we find it to our advantage to follow their tactics whenever possible. You must remem ber that I was traveling at the rate of about 385 feet a seco xd and the slightest tremor in the pilot’s hand would

account for 100 feet or more. I missed the groun dive by about twenty feet. It was just a close shave, anda miss was as good as never having come close, but the judges had noted that my plane had lost some altitude while on the course, and disqualified me on the attempt. Four Times in Two Days MADE another group of four runs, diving on eas h rur from 7000 feet, and hung up a new world’s record of

263.31 miles an hour. This was the fourth time in tw that the world’s top speed record for straightaway flying speed had been smashed When my ship had been brought up to the line everyone swarmed about with handshakes and congratulations, and in the confusion I could see Hal Brow busy at his ship get ting ready for a return try. Would t chap ever get enough? This meant more work, and going over all the business again. In a few moments he was off and circling the field, tuning his motor, and soon became a mere dot the sky. He turned and started in a long dive and swept with bullet! } } lete contre e accuracy across the eourse, dispiayvit g com 1 held our breath after he had completed his last leg of the course, for we knew that a world’s record had been broken again, bu

NK 1 and masterly airmanship. We al by what mark we could only guess. At last came the Continued en Page 52

of Lieutenant Brow’s ship turning over and my friendly rival climbing into his ship; that meant he was going to try again, so I directed that my ship also be inspected and fueled and made ready for my counter try. Lieutenant Brow took off, and after making four tremendous dives, flashed across the time course for the grand mark of 259.16 miles an hour. This was great stuff. The same greatest world’s speed record had been broken three times in a few hours. Smudged Shoulder Twenty Feet From Death \ Y OLD shipmate had just beaten me and had 4 smashed the world’s record to smithereens, and after congratulating him on his success I began to realize that I would be unable to make another try that afternoon, since darkness was coming on apace. The operations to date left me feeling mighty blue and regretful that we had not started in to work earlier in the day, even if we had been forced to encounter less favorable flying conditions. The excitement at this time was intense; the spectators, the National Aeronautic Association officials and Army Air Service officers were beginning to show signs of the strain. They feared, as did we, that either the ship or the motors might break down under the terrible punishment. These motors, which had been designed to run at a top speed of 2400 revolutions a minute, were being forced up to about 4000 revolutions a minute in the long dives, and how The Navy Air Chief, Admirat Moffett, Congratulating the Winner. Burnt Motor Gases and an Unventilated Cockpit Account for Lieut. Williams’

ke i at ~ 1 J 01 ° FP 1 oT - "eT x fi - 7 Ne Set ‘ ae “ srod s<teeretalagp piebbbet peated wre oe: . ‘ * me teed naeetnetin tpeaeitipoenenstaapneessesthdemaanentitnanstaetiniinaensaneseaeenaeanas OFFICIAL PHOTOORA S. ARMY ADR SER es 3 ‘

=_— at

t Headquarters—Washington as the Returning Pilots See It Just Before Gliding Down Into a Landing

Page 48

46 GAIN, fo’ the last an’ most’ positive time,” roared President Orifice ‘I tells you no! R. Latimer, Ethiope Wall poke pleadingly. i But you don’t if really mean no, does ‘Great — sufferin’ ripe! Tha’s the one thing I don’t mean nothin’ else but.’ The tall, gangling negro gazed mourn- fully upon the portly affluent man who was president of the Midnight Pictures Corporation, Inc., of Birmingham, Ala- They were in modest bama. Latimer’s rooms at the Hotel Alger, on the Rue Alger, Nice, France. Latimer was sitting stiffly in his chair. He gazed — past his humble visitor and out lie the window to the row of brick buildings across the way. The day was per- fect -soft and balmy ind sensuous. The breath of Northern Africa was wafted gently across the Mediterranean to warm the Riviera chill. From outside came gentle sounds : children at play, gt housewives chatter- ~* Supe eh” the whiny voices of taxi horns and the clatter of trams. But the president of Midnight was not happy. He was, in fact, distinctly annoyed. ‘You peeves me!”’ he announced with startling candor. ‘Day after day you comes an’ pesters me with yo’ trou- bles. Ev’y time I inform you we ain't got no job to give you ‘Any kind of a job,”’ begged Ethiope Wall. ‘‘Just so long as it’s with you folks. I cleans, I scrubs, I dusts, I gits busted in the eye if you want.” “Whaffo’ you so crazy "bout jobbin’ with us anyhow?” The loose-jointed figure of Mr. Wall stiffened visibly. The faintest ghost of a gleam of hope appeared in his melancholy eye. For the moment he was queerly attractive. (nd he spoke in a voice freighted with the bitter aloes of homesickness. he asked, ‘Foolishment what you speaks! ‘Boss-man,” “has you ever lived in France?’ Ain’t I livin’ heah now?” You ain't livin’ heah, Mistuh Latimer. You an’ yo’ pitcher folks which is Reckon France looks good to ever since the “Oh, lawsy! You is just sojournin’. makin’ films fo’ America. you, but if you had been heah long as me war—you woul’n't think it was so swell.” Latimer sniffed. ‘Seems like to me this ought to be a heavumly place fo’ cullud folks.” Man, what I craves is to git me cullud folks is cullud an’ white folks is white. Tha’s how come I to be so eager. I craves tu do any kind of work with you-all. Anythin’. Don’t are what. Just so long as you gives me a job an’ takes me back to America with you.” “Seems like ain't is! back to Georgia, where But he shook his head. We has got twenty-one Latimer’s expression softened. 'Tain’t possible, Ethiope. illud folks with us. There ain’t no job fo’ you. ‘I can act,” suggested Mr. Wall hopefully. “I has sted at li'l’ cabarets aroun’ Nice a dozen times.” “Act! Goodness goshness Miss Agnes! Ev’ybody thinks Man, us has got he can act. ‘Specially in the movies THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 By Octavus moy Cohen LOW BUT SURE *%: “True,’’ She Said, “I Have Been Going With Monsieur Jones. He is One Grand, Noble Man"’ troubles of our own! We got mo’ actors than we know what to do with. ’Specially one. We has signed up Malacca Jones to star in one pitcher! He’s workin’ now ig The eyes of Mr. Ethiope Wall grew round like dollars. He made unconscious obeisance. ““Malacca Jones!’” He repeated the name with rever- ence. ‘Mistuh Latimer, that feller is folks!” ‘“‘Fumadiddles! Guess us is pretty much folks ourse’ves. But Director Clump seen him in that revue an’ says he’s awful funny di Ethiope forgot his own troubles in his enthusiasm for Malacca Jones. ‘‘That feller was a good actor up in Har- lem befo’ he ever come to France, Mistuh Latimer. An’ over heah he’s been a riot! Just plumb a knock-out. France ain’t never seen nothin’ like him. Time he steps on the stage ev’ybody begins to laugh = “*Cept the man what is payin’ his wages.” “Yeh, I reckon. I guess you must be payin’ him a heap just to act in one pitcher, ain’t you?” Latimer grimaced with distaste. “‘We is payin’ him so much money, Ethiope, that if the pitcher busts we won't have enough le ft to go in bankruptcy with. Honest, what that feller thinks he’s wuth is somethin’ terrible. With what us pays him we could buy you a ship to go home on. We could x **Don’t you reckon you could use me as a guide?” asked Mr. Wall, coming back to the original subject with steady **T speaks French fluent an’ I knows all about Nice, Cannes, Monte Carlo, Villefranche, ” insistence. the Riviera Mentone “We got a guide.” “T could also interpret Anything!" “Sorry, Ethiope. ain’t got no spare money. now * “*T ain’t’’— sadly. could work fo’ you-all. An’ clean up. An’ run errands. We ain't got no spare work an’ we If the trouble is you is broke “IT got a few francs. But if I on’y Honest, Ise a good actor.” TRATED B J. . GOvuUtL D ‘I ain’t sayin’ you ain’t. But I ain’t ever seen so many actors in all my life. Ev’ybody we got wants to act teckon you got to say good-by, Ethiope, ‘cause there poso- lutely ain’t nothin’ stirrin’ in the way of a job with us.” Ethiope Wall gloomed out of the room He was wallowing in the slough of despond. Hehad struggled to land with this company as he had never fought for anything in all his adventuresome life. Nearly nine years in Europe! Two of them happy. The other seven shot through with home- sickness and yearn- ing for the barbecued fleshpots of Colum- bus, Georgia. Ethi- ope had struggled to earn real money; his greatest ambition had been the stage. A few desultory vaudeville engage- ments in malodorous neighborhood caba- rets had been pro- ductive of much applause and little money. Yet Ethiope knew that he was a comedian. Two cabaret man- agers had told him he looked enough like the great Malacca Jones to be the a double of that sensa- tional gentleman In applying to President Latimer for work Ethiope had been sincere in vol- unteering to perform the humblest chores But accompanying his application had gone a gossamer hope that he might — once he was working wit} the company and friendly with the members thereof—be intrusted with some small bit of picture comedy. That was the great secret hope. Freedom. The States. A job as a picture actor. “Oh, golla,”” he mourned as he moved toward the bril liantly illuminated Avenue de la Victoire, “I sholy was hopin’ hopes. Just one li'l’ job with them. Just one li'l’ chance to bust in an’ show what I can do!” He walked under the tremendous archways which were strung across the broad thoroughfare in anticipation of the great carnival which was about to descend upon Nice. All about him were tourists—Americans, Englishmen, Span- iards, Italians, and even a scattering of Frenchmen. The season was at its height. The streets surged with gayety and the promise of gayety. Lights, music, hustle, bustle, laughter and song. The Place Masséna crowded with taxicabs and busses and clanging street cars. The shop The lights of the Casino Municipal and Everybody seemed to have windows ablaze. the Casino Jetée Promenade. a job or money, or both. Mr. Wall made his way unha rant where, for a mere pittance, he served as general handy- man. The establishment made a pitiful struggle to attract casual tourist trade. Two signs over the doorway announced that herein ppily to the little restau- were served rosbiff and biffsteak. Somehow, moneyed Americans and Britishers did not respond to that allure- ment in paying quantities. Ethiope Wall looked into the face of a dreary, homesick future. The Midnight Pictures Corporation, Inc., had seemed to afford his greatest chance; the opportunity to acquire in one fell swoop a worthwhile job, a trip home, a chance to act, and perhaps screen success. And now “Hard luck ain’t even reasonable,”’ he reflected miser- ably. ‘‘Fust he busts a feller in the jaw. Then he knocks him in the eye. Then he kicks him in the stummick an’ says ha-ha! rest of my nachel life. Continued on Page 48 Reckon Ise gwine be servin’ rosbiff fo’ the

Page 49

THE SATURDAY EVENING I THIS SIX you get beauty, and size, and all the accessory ¢* equipment which car-buyers want today. And in addition, you get that sound and honest quality which Hupmobile has built into all its products for 18 years—the quality that makes ——— for superfine performance, for | wes I long life, for economy, and for Wiel } i h| . . e . - Fn a} | ] ] . > sf: yey i genuine and lasting satisfaction. we W MODERN AND COMPLET! ( \} Thermostatic Heat Dash Gasoline Gauge Special Vibration N | Control Color Options Damper ‘ P my if Gasoline Filter Force Feed 4-Wheel Brakes 5 ie, 2 = by ' Snubbers Lubrication Automatic : ae | i hi Vision-Ventilating Mohair Upholstery Windshield Cleanet Pe. At, ‘ ‘i t) Windshield Oil Filter Tilting Beam | ; $ Ay)! Clear Vision Bodies Rear View Mirror Headlights i f P f Walnut Grained Instrument Board and Window Ledges 2 [ iy { 4 Sedan, five-passenger, four-door, $1385. Coupe, two-passenger, with Sve i rumble seat, $1385. Roadster, with rumble seat, $1385. Touring, five- * passenger, $1325. Equipment includes 30 x 5.25 balloon tires, four- wheel brakes. All prices f. 0. b. Detroit, plus revenue tax. HUPMOBILE

Page 50

(Continued fram Page 46 He envied the sleek and portly Orifice Latimer. There was a man! A colored gentleman of parts. A magnate who could, and did, willy-nilly hire so great a personage as Malacca Jones. The incomparable Malacca! The colored comedy sensation of the French music halls. Ethiope tried to vision the superlative happiness of the Midnight troupe in being privileged to meet Mr. Jones. 3ut just at that moment, in the very room which Ethiope had just quitted, there was occurring a conversa- tion which would have amazed the gentleman who labored in the rosbiff emporium. A slender, dynamic figure flung itself into the august presence of Orifice R. Latimer. This person wore putties, horn-rimmed goggles, a long-visored cap and a sport shirt. He leaped about the room like a bit of human thistledown and finally exploded. “That feller!” he croaked. Latimer sensed a large portion of the trouble. was excitable, but usually reasonable. “Which feller?” he inquired. “Malacca Jones!”’ “Qo-o-ee!’" Latimer sat up very straight. If Cesar’s fury concerned Mr. Jones it was trouble indeed. From the first, Latimer had been doubtful. Malacca Jones was undoubtedly a great comedian; his name un- questionably possessed salability. But the money that he was spending for this single two-reel slapstick comedy —— ““What about him?” “What?” Casar’s voice fairly crackled. “‘Ev’ything. Of all the no-’count, wuthless, persnickety, uppity, swell- headed cullud fellers I has ever run across One of these days the Nice policemens is gwine run across a body all chopped up into li'l’ pieces an’ tha’s gwine be Malacca ” Cesar Jones hisse’f in person. Now listen “‘T—Ise listenin’,”” murmured the chief executive un- happily. “T ain’t gwine stan’ it. I absotively an’ posolutely refuse.”” “Yassah, Brother Clump. What’s happened now?” “Ev’ything, an’ then some mo’. Always since we signed him up he’s been tellin’ me what he’s gwine do an’ what he ain’t gwine do. He’s been rewritin’ Forcep Swain’s sce- nario, an’ Forcep is almos’ wile. He makes me send a taxi fo’ him. ev’y mawnin’. An’ now—an’ now * Clump choked “Yeh? An’ now?” “Now, President Latimer, he says he has got to have a stand-up man!” Latimer frowned. He also rose. He shook his head in puzzlement. ‘He has got to have a which?” ‘A stand-up man!” “*Whaffo’ kind of a thing is a stand- up man, Cesar?” Director Clump controlled himself with a visible ef- fort. Beads of per- spiration stood out on his mahogany brow, his wiry little figure trembled with outrage. He spoke in a harsh, strained voice “A —a stand-up man,”’ he explained furiously, “is some- body who gits fo- cused fo’ you!” ‘You explains so clear, Cesar, that 1 don’t understan’ nothin’.”’ Clump struggled to control himself. ‘*Listen at me while I what a stand-up explains man is. It’s some- body which keeps you fum nothin’.”’ Latimer blinked. “Go on.” ‘oS sar as 5 know,” continued Cesar, “there ain't hut two movie stars doin’ “a See “I Congratulates You, Ethiope, on Bein' Permitted to Meet Me. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST in the world has got stand-up people. One of ’em is a man star an’ t’other is a lady star. Bofe of ’em is terrible famous.” “The stand-up men?” ““No, you idjit; the stars. Take, f’r instance, the man star which has a stand-up feller. This star is somebody what you know real good.’’ Clump mentioned the name in an awed whisper, and Latimer whistled his surprise. ‘‘He plays he-man parts an’ he’s about as he-man as a cream puff. But he’s got temp’rament. Oh, Lawd, how much temp’rament he’s got! “This feller puck out another man which was about his size an’ coloring an’ looked somethin’ like him. An’ when they is fixin’ scenes the stand-up man rehearses all but the final rehearsal fo’ the star. An’ the star just looks on an’ sees how the director wants him to do. Then also, when the star is gwine have a close-up, this stand-up man poses in front of the cam’ra ‘til they gits it focused, so all the star has to do is walk to that spot an’ strut his stuff. Also, they tests make-up with the stand-up man. ’Tain’t nothin’ but silliment, an’ nobody but idjits would have one. “Now this feller Jones says he has got to have a stand-up man. Says he ain’t gwine exhaust hisse’f standin’ in front of no cam’ra when there ain’t nothin’ bein’ shot. Says if other big stars can have one, also he can.” “*He’s crazy!” “‘That’s what I tried to explain to him, but he woul’n’t agree with me. Says he has a star contrack an’ he gits what a star gits. Says there ain’t no star in the world gwine have nothin’ on him.” “Phew!”’ Orifice drummed on the desk with his spatu- late fingers. ‘“‘What did you tell him?” *“*T tol’ him he could go take a flyin’ punch at the moon. I tol’ him that of all the fools I ever seen he was the wust. I tol’ him he was the mos’ uppity, obnoxing cullud man I An' Mind You Don't Git Me Angry" November 6, 1926 ever did see an’ fo’ half a cent I’d hire me somebody to knock his block off. I told him e ““You must of gone crazy payin’ him compliments.” Cesar grinned. ‘I don’t care, Orifice. That feller got me plumb annoyed. An’ fo’ one pickled pig’s foot I'd fire him.”’ The president of Midnight rose in consternation. ‘‘Golla, Cesar, you cain’t do that!” “Why not?” “We cain’t afford it. Us has paid that feller two thou- san’ dollars adwance, an’ also we has wasted a lot of time an’ shot a heap of scenes a’ready. It’d cost us most ten thousan’ dollars did we kick him out.” Clump shook his head dejectedly. What is we gwine do?” ““We’s gwine tell him he cain’t have no stand-up man.” “P-f-f! I tol’ him that an’ it di’n’t have no mo’ effeck than a dark night on a piece of film. Says he gits his stand-up man or he don’t work. He says ‘Does he mean it?”’ **Man, tha’s the most thing he’s positive about!” “Well, s’far as I can see Suddenly an idea came to President Latimer. His mind flashed back a half hour to the wistfully pathetic figure of one Ethiope Wall who craved any sort of job. He questioned Clump, “‘ Ain’t no- body in the company would act as stand-up man fo’ Malacca, is there?” ““Nope. An’ if anyone would try it they’d bust that feller in the eye befo’ they’d worked one day. He just nachelly ain’t to be stood.” ““An’ he really walks out on us if he don’t git this focuser?”’ “Uh-huh.” “In that case,”’ explained Latimer, ‘‘I has got the ve’y man fo’ the job.’’ He explained to Cwsar about Ethiope. “He ought to be fine. He says he'll scrub floors does us ask him.” “Hope he scrubs ‘“*Ain’t that fierce? ” ” t ’em with Malacca Jones.” “*An’ he can make up an’ focus, cause he says he’s an actor. An’ he looks enough like Malacca to be his double. Same size, same weight, same kind of face.”’ “Then he ain’t gwine be populous with me.” “Yeh, you'll like him, Cesar. He’s a nice sort of feller. An’ I can git him cheap.” “Then git him, Orifice, an’ le’s us progress th’oo with this pitcher. The less I see of Malacca Jones an’the sooner Atl. I sees it, the longer Ise gwine keep out of prison.” / Orifice R. Lati- mer consulted the card on his desk. It had the address of Ethiope Wall scrawled across it. Latimer rose, donned his hat and set out in search of the Rue Chauvin, where Ethiope’s rosbiff workshop was located. President Lati- mer wore a worried expression and a checkered suit. The cares of managing Midnight’s Euro- pean affairs weighed heavily upon him. This was not the first time Continued on Page 56

Page 51

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘VIBRATIONLESS BEYOND BELIEF ~ something new in Motor Car Performance The smoothness and quietness For then you may be induced of the Greatest Buick Ever to drive the two cars, and Built defy description. compare them. This remarkable motor car is And you will appreciate better vibrationless beyond belief—an the amazing smoothness of accomplishment that startled power flow at every speed, which the motor car industry. now belongs to Buick. We hope someone else tells Drive the other car, then drive you that some other motor car Buick, before you spend also is vibrationless. your money! BUICK MOTOR COMPANY, FLINT, MICHIGAN Division of General Motors Corporation Sts the Greatest BU) [CK ever sunr

Page 52

50 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST QUALITY OF JUSTI 4 November 6, 1926 Handed Out by the Blind Goddess on the Town Halll im Exeter, New llampshire—By Henry Al. Shute OSH it is terible xciting to be a poliseman. and it is jest as xciting to be a lawyer. i have always in- tended to play in a circus band for a living and i in- tend to now. but if ennything happens so i cant play in a us band i am going to be a poliseman or a lawyer. i thougt a lawyer set most of the time in his office and rote papers and read yellow covered books but i shall never think so after the trial today old Harrison Rundlett sed he dident beleeve there had been a moar xciting trial or better speeches since the Betty Farmer will case or the Cilley will case when Daniel Web- ster and Jeremiar Mason were the lawyers. this is the only real trial i ever herd. i shall never forget it. peeple begun to come a hour befoar the trial and at 9 oh clock the town hall was full. Jug Hunnewell was out of town and Jug Boxford of Newmarket was the jug. he set at a big table at the upper part of the hall and mister Wood, Pile Woods father, and the onorable Amos Tuck set at the table oposite eech other. me and Pewt and Beany hoap that the onerable Amos Tuck will get licked in the case becaus if the italian man is sent to jale peraps Beanys father will get the munky and the hand organ for his pay and me and Beany will have to taik cair of him and it. bimeby Beanys father come up the ile with the italian man and the munky and the hand organ and put them in then Jug Boxford took up a little wooden hammer and banged the table so evrybody gumped. then ne sed court is setting and then he set down to show that he ment it. then he sed who apears for the persecution and Mister Wood, Pile Woods father sed i do your oner and then the Jug asted the onerable Amos Tuck if he was de- tained by the defender and Mister Tuck sed no your oner a sort of pen i nave volunteered my services to ade a foreiner whitch ILLUSTRATED BY LESLIE TURNER cannot speek our langage. then a lot of peeple clapped their hands and the jug banged the table again and then he told the peeple that it was a court room and not a bar room and if ennybody distirbed the perseedings he shood fine them for contemp of coart. so evrybody kep still. then the Jug asted what the complant was and sed he wood reed it and the onerable Amos Tuck sed your oner I wave the complant. but he dident wave it. he dident taik it. the Jug had it and when he sed that he laid it on the table. nobody waved it. i dident know but he wood wave it and give 3 cheers. then the Jug sed you may perseed brother Wood. then mister Wood, Pile Woods father got up and told what a outragus crime had been comitted. he sed one of the most innosent, most playfull, most divirting, most lowly and defenceless of Gods creetures had been drug from a happy life among the treetops and ruined palices of far away india to pass the hat for pennies for a grimm taskmaster who was two lazy to wirk and so becomes a vagrant playing a hand organ, the most atrosius of all instrerments maid by man. he sed that after maiking a living out of the labor of this faithfull devoated little animal and when goded to the limit of indurence the teeny little animal weiging about 9 lbs tirned on this brootal taskmaster whitch weiged 200 lbs at leest, he cruily beat lashed whanged cuffed slapped struck shook pushed brused wounded abused and tortured the poor animal until it screemed with pane. gosh i gess the italian will go to jale sure. i dont beleeve the onerable Amos Tuck can beet that talk. gosh i never herd anything like that. isaw the hoal thing and the italian only licked him with a stick. i started to get up and tell the jug all about it but it was lucky i dident becaus jest then old Mike Prescott whitch was drunk got up and hollered not by a damsite, and the jug maid old Swane and old Misery Dirgin grab him and throw him out and put him in the lockup. then mister Wood, Pile Woods father, hollered sum moar and then he called Beanys father and maid him hold up his hand and sware. but he dident sware the way i have hird him. then he asted Beanys father if he was a poliseman and he sed he was and he asted him if he arested the italian man and Beanys father begun to tell about it and the onerable Amos Tuck gumped up and sed your oner i objec and then Mister Wood, Pile Woods father, took up a book and read a lot of stuff out of it and hollered and waived his arms and then the onerable Amos Tuck read from a book and he maid a speech and then the Jug sed Beanys father cood tell it. i gess me and Beany will lose the munky and hand organ. well he had only sed a few wirds when the onerable Amos Tuck gumped up again and read from another book and then he and mister Wood, Pile Woods father, hollered at eech other and banged the table and waived their arms then the Jug told Beanys father what sed it. then the Jug sed that the onerable Amos Tuck cood ask Beanys father sum questions and he stood up and asted Beanys father if he maid the complant and Beanys father sed he done it. then the onerable Amos Tuck sed you swore that he did 12 things to the munky and Beanys father sed no. and then the onerable Amos Tuck red the complant and asted Beanys father what he saw the italian do and Beanys father sed he saw him beat him he cood Say and he (Continued on Page 234 If That is the Case and the Munky Whitch Bit You Came From India You Might Have a Verry Serius Attack of Indian Mutiny

Page 53

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST It is perfectly plain that the most beau- tiful and comfortable cars in every price class are precisely those cars whose bodies are built by Fisher

Page 54

news—265.69 miles an hour! Everyone gasped. This was tremendous. Where would it all end? This fellow pilot was a foeman worthy of anyone's I was dumfounded steel and here was his latest contribution to the contest. It was a thrilling moment for the thousands of persons who had gath- ered to watch the tests, and there was not a sound. I had already doffed my lucky flying shirt and flying gear and was waiting to fly to Van Cortlandt Park, in New York ( ity where about 20,000 Bronxites were waiting forme. They had planned a public reception in honor of my winning of the Pulitzer Race some time before. | congratulated Brow and looked at my watch. It was already a full hour past my time for this engagement and I was un- certain as to whether I'd try again right away or wait until the morrow. I hesitated and turned a calculating eye to the sky. The flying conditions were as nearly ideal as flying conditions ever are, and to- morrow ‘Il guess the boys in the Bronx won’t mind waiting if | bring them a world’s record,” was my remark to a newspaper- man who stood close by, and he agreed and promised to phone over and tell the home folks what was going on. I gave orders to get the ship ready, and after the usual pre- liminaries | took the air for the greatest flight I ever have made or probably ever shall make. High and far back of the start- ing point, I journeyed to an altitude of 9000 feet. Each previous time I had merely climbed to the determined altitude, turned ibout and started down in a dive. This time I decided to do the thing in a con- clusive fashion. Speed and a Steady Hand I went back aimost to the coast line and then turned and opened the motor up wide, until the air-speed hand was reading about 249 miles an hour, and then nosed the plane down in a dive that I shall never forget. The air-speed indicator fluttered past the stop mark—250 miles an hour— and started around from zero again. The tachometer ran up to 2850 rotations a minute and then dropped back to zero. It was wrecked. Down, on down, I went; it was terrific. How I did worry about the beating which that stout-hearted motor was receiving. Finally the plane came out in a beautiful parabola and dashed away straight across the course. Then up the other side to 9000 feet, and down again for a repetition of the dive already described. Then back again for the third dive and dash, and it was on the fourth and last dive from 9000 feet that something interesting happened, or nearly happened. As I came down for the last time a squadron of Martin Bombers, flying in V formation, flew right across the speed course. They had come from Aberdeen, Maryland, and knew noth ing of the tests which were being run, and as I pa-sed the timer’s stand at the western end of the course I saw these huge, slow-moving planes. We were all traveling close to the ground, and if they continued on their course, and I ‘maintained my heading and speed, we They did not see me; of that I was sure, and I verified I could not fly under them, because they were too low, and I could not jump over them without losing a fraction of a second and thus spoiling all my other runs. The Army Air Service officers vainly tried to signal the arriv- ing bombers, but it was too late. It is doubtful whether they could have ma- neuvered in time to avoid my speeding racer anybow. I certainly had no ap- petite for making four more dives from 9000 feet, so | made my decision. All this was going on while about twenty- e seconds were passing I stuck to my straight course and just managed to squeeze between Planes One were sure to collide. 1 this iater. THE SATURDAY and Three of the V formation with mighty few feet to spare, and I was told that the spectators, who had already feasted on an afternoon of thrills, voted that they had had enough. After crossing the finishing line I pulled up and circled over the judges’ stand and again awaited the verdict. I knew that Lieutenant Brow’s speed would be hard to beat, and though I knew I had called for almost all the speed my plane had in it, the waiting for results left me mighty impatient. Out came one long white strip of bunting. And I sure did watch that official as he came out dragging the other strip. If he made an X with his strips, then I had been disqualified. It couldn’t be a minus sign because he was al- ready carrying another strip. There it was—he had formed a plus sign! Gosh, how good that looked! I wanted to yell or do something —anything but stay in that plane all alone. I wanted to get down and ascertain by what margin the mark had been battered. Begetting Confidence The landing was finally negotiated and I hopped from the plane as soon as it stopped rolling. The crowd was cheering and a great fuss was going on. Someone shouted ‘266.59 miles an hour”’ close tomy ear. The mark had been raised approximately a mile an hour. That was fine. The day looked better and I was immensely pleased. It was discovered that I had flown two legs of the course in twenty-five seconds flat, and as the distance was three kilometers, or one and seven-eighths miles, this meant about thirteen and a half seconds to the mile, or four and four-tenths miles a minute and more than 390.795 feet a second. Inci- dentally, that same old world’s record had been smashed for the sixth time in two days’ flying, and had been boosted from 236 miles an hour, made early in 1923, to 266.59-—a total gain of 30.59 miles. The newspapermen then took charge and made it almost impossible for me to get my coat and necktie. One reporter said, ‘‘ Didn’t you see the bombers?” “Sure,” I answered. ‘“ Didn’t you hear me yell to them to get out of my way?” And once more I couldn't find my necktie. As soon as it was discovered that Lieu- tenant Brow’s ship had thrown a tire from one of its wheels and that he would make his next try on the morrow, I hopped into a service plane and started for the Bronx. This ship could make only about 120 miles an hour, and goodness! how slow and poky that seemed. It required eleven minutes to reach Van Cortlandt Park, and I was so pleased to find the crowd waiting patiently that I put on a little acrobatic exhibition before landing. I knew my mother would be in that crowd somewhere, and though the stunting SPEED WINGS Continued from Page 45 EVENING POST and acrobatics might alarm her at first, the eventual result would be satisfactory and reassuring. Her first remark proved this, for she went on to tell me that when the plane first left an even keel she was worried, then she became fascinated, and finally thrilled, at the readiness with which the plane seemed to answer the pilot’s wishes. It was much more sensible to let her see the stunting and have her realize how safe it was, and see me actually doing it, than to fly carefully into a landing, and force her, and others like her, to have recourse to less authoritative sources for their information. After listening to the welcome and taking the opportunity to show my appreciation of the reception, I hopped off and flew back to Mitchel Field, Long Island, and turned in early, quite ready to call it a day, and a mighty busy day at that. I never fly over the country around Mitchel Field without experiencing a distinct thrill as I recognize the old speed course, and my memory harks back to the events which will al- ways mark it well in my mind. It is interesting to look at the results of my last four trips over the course. The first leg was flown against the wind, which slowed my ground progress down by one- half a second. The next leg was flown with the wind, and only required twenty-five seconds to cover the distance. The third passage was against the wind again, and my ground speed was two-tenths of a sec- ond slower than the preceding trip. The fourth and last lap was flown in the same direction as the wind and was again com- pleted in twenty-five seconds flat. DISTANCE, THREE KILOMETERS— I] MiL# TIME IN SECONDS MILES AN HOUT l y 4 263.18 2 25.0 268.44 ) 25.2 26.31 i 25.0 268.44 The wind direction means nothing to the speed of a plane through the air, but it must be added to or subtracted from the air speed when the plane’s progress over the ground is being computed, according to whether you are flying with the wind or against it. The End of the Trials Next morning Brow and I reported to Mitchel Field and were all prepared to carry on the contest. Meantime the news- papers had so featured the preceding day’s events and so much attention had been attracted by the event, that the Bureau of Aeronautics rightly sensed that, though further efforts might push the record up a few miles, the gain was not commensurate with the hazards being incurred. About ten A.M. we received congratula- tory telegrams from the Secretary of the Navy, Edwin Denby, and from the Chief of the Bureau of Aeronautics, Admiral W. A. Moffett, U.S. N., ordering us to discontinue i a WS oi es Iie, A 1921 Navy Racer Stripped for Speed —1835 m.p.h. Fighting Planes in 192! Hada Maximum Speed of Approximately 140 m. p.h. November 6, 1926 the tests and return to Washington. So that was that, and perhaps it was just as well, for had we continued the diving some- one would certainly have been hurt. It was the happiest time of my life. I had accom- plished everything I had set out to do, and at that time held the three most important world’s speed records in aviation. The Pulitzer Race had netted me two records one for the first half of the race, which was for 100 kilometers, and one for total race distance, which was for 200 kilometers, and on top of these rested the world’s straight- away three-kilometer record of 266.59 miles an hour; 1923 was a good year for me. The diving hazards of those tests so im- pressed aviation people in general that the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale enacted legislation at the next meeting which entirely eliminated them, by ordain- ing that at no time shall a pilot engaged in shooting at this record ever attain an altitude in excess of about 1200 feet. This seems to be the natural course of events. Wherever you find a use you also find an abuse, and then someone makes a law. The law in this case was very necessary, and brought about a very healthy state of affairs, wherein fu- ture speed records would be made by planes which achieved their maximum perform- ance by reason of increased horse power and refinement in the design of the plane proper; and the accredited speeds would be only such as might be developed by the plane itself, and only such as inherently be- longed to it. High Landing Speeds This highly prized record had attracted so much attention that the French Army Air Service constructed a specially designed ship for the purpose of acquiring it. The special racer was piloted by Adjutant Bonnett and established a new world's record for the event—278.48 miles an hour—on December 11, 1924. This ship had a landing speed of about 110 or 115 miles an hour, and for this rea son would have been unable to qualify under our Pulitzer Race rules, which limit the landing speed of contesting planes to seventy-five miles an hour. Seventy-five miles an hour is a safe limit to place on racing planes and has a most salutary effect because it forces designers to achieve higher performances by refining the lines of their planes and also limits the hazards to the piloting personnel. Such a landing speed is about as fast as we can safely make contact with the earth on land ing. Our Pulitzer rules do not govern the three-kilometer event, neither do they govern the activities of foreign agencies, but they are sound and rezsonable. Whenever the landing speed of an air- craft has been increased in order to raise its maximum speed, aeronautical design has advanced not one whit, and the pilot is subjected to great additional dangers The kitchen table will fly if it is sup- plied with enough power, but this all means getting away from the primary mission of competition. As the three-kilometer world’s high- speed event stands today, it is possi ble to build a plane with a landing speed of 150 miles an hour and capable of making 310 or 315 miles an hour, and still no benefit accrues to the science of aviation. That is pushing the argument to an extreme, of course, but the principle under discussion is none the less exemplified. I have always maintained that some limit as to landing speed should be pre- scribed for every aviation contest, so that if danger must be incurred and if possibly some sacrifice must be laid on the altar of progress, at least the art will have benefited in some way and the world will have learned something of value. Continued on Page 54 ———

Page 55

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST % ¥: Gn no at el METS Now One of the Accepted l_eaders vr f J i ( 4 " It is doubtful whether even the most heroic pages of automotive history record a success comparable to that of the Pontiac Six since its introduction last January. Repre- senting a new order of low-cost Six performance, stamina and beauty, it was accorded a wildfire reception whose intensity grew—and tinues to grow—with every passing month. Where the largest produc- tion previously attained by any new CON- \) make of car during its first full year Pontiac Six Landau Sedan, § All prices Ea y l0 pay on t/ at factory. OAKLAND MOTOR CAR COM $805. Oakland Si was less than 33,000, the number of Pontiac Sixes built to date is well above 65,000. And there is being rushed to completion, a Vast new plant, costing $10,200,000, and capable of producing 1,000 Pontiac Sixes a day. Here, truly, is incon- testable proot of the revolutionary value represented by the Pontiac Six! Here, truly, is evidence of the leadership which Pontiac Six was destined so quickly to win from the day of its public presentation. Now Dp r999 y mpan nto Pontiac Six. § fr Poop PANY, PONTIAC MICHIGAN ’ *825 SEDAN oR COUPE

Page 56

A quiet, long - wearing tire chain made of rubber and specially sutted to balloon tires OODYEAR has made you a new and silent rubber tire chain. Goodyear has tested it. Goodyear has seen it outwear the best of tire chains. Here are the vital facts about this rubber chain: Quietness: There’s no clanging on the pavement or banging on the fenders with Goodyear Chains. Rubber cross links take the place of steel. Long Wear: Mile for mile, one set of Goodyear Chains will, in most cases, outwear several sets of ordinary tire chains. Tire-Saving: The broad rubber cross links guard against cutting or bruising of the tire tread, and especially in deep ruts give valu- able protection to tire sidewalls. Ease of Application: Goodyear Chains are easy to apply. You put them on and leave them on— over mud, wet and dry pavements, or snow. Security: Goodyear chains employ the non-skid principle of the famous Goodyear All-Weather Tread magnified for maximum gripping action. Scientifically de- signed to resist skidding in any direction. Convince yourself of these facts by having your car equipped with Goodyear Rubber Tire Chains at the nearest Goodyear Service Station. y of Sq f 4 fhectia ’ s « seus y t at Made by the makers of Goodyear Tires GOOD/YEAR F322} BS A IS r Tire& RubberCo., Inc THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 52 However we may feel about limiting the landing speeds of racing planes, there is no limit specified in the rules governing the world’s high-speed record, and we cannot speak too appreciatively of the aggres- siveness and skill and determination of the French in acquiring what they set out to get. The greatest aviation record is the property of France today, and it is the patriotic duty and obligation of some American agency or citizen to bring it back to the land where aviation was born. The next Pulitzer Race, in 1924, was held at Dayton, Ohio, the home of aviation, and developed no new speed marks, because no new aircraft had been built for the event. Two gallant airmen lost their lives, either in the race or preparing for it—Lieut. Alexander Pearson and Capt. Burt Skell, ‘both of the Army Air Service. It is ex- tremely difficult to lay one’s finger defi- nitely on the causes for these accidents, and it is much more discreet to pass in sorrow than to hazard personal opinions. I was not there and I do not know the facts, and that is reason enough for not speaking at all. I knew both these men personally and held the highest regard for their ability, courage and judgment, and I am sure that whatever happened to their planes would have brought any other pilot in the world to similar grief. Since the dawn of crea- tion mankind has had to pay in blood and money and energy for every step of prog- ress. Early in 1925 the Army and Navy agreed to enter the Pulitzer to be held in October of that year, and placed orders with the aircraft industry for the building of new racers. This promised to be a real contest, in as much as the two services agreed to build the planes alike in every | particular. The concern that was to build our ships had built a new motor which held great possibilities, but had not been sub- jected to such tests as would have elimi- nated the bugs. In fact, it had never been in the air, and was destined to make its | first flight test in a racing plane. Such pro- | cedure established a precedent which will not be followed hereafter. It takes about three years for anew gasoline aircraft engine to reach that stage of reliability where it may be said to have arrived. Trials on the motor-test stands are excellent and necessary, and engender great hopes in the breasts of the builders, but will never produce immediately a motor ready to go into an airplane. Oh, yes! It will run all right in the plane, but a score or so of what I have already called bugs will crop up. The term ‘“‘bug”’ is held to mean any minor failure of the motor proper or its accessories, which keeps constantly recurring, but which remains hidden and unseen until actual operation in an aircraft brings it to light. Nine times out of ten a bug is only some small, trivial defect which will be corrected in time, but the peculiar thing about aviation mechanisms is that the seemingly trivial defect is sufficient to cause a motor to stop running, and that |} means trouble. The Real Way to Travel As soon as I was appointed to fly the Navy entry I repaired to the factory where the ships were being built, and was per- mitted to collaborate with the designers in installing accommodations for parachute equipment —something unused to date in racing craft. I was also permitted to incor- porate some of my own ideas into those features of construction which had direct bearing on the pilot’s task of flying the ship, such as shaping the upper wing to increase the pilot's range of vision, and two or three other items which would interest only a pilot. About this time we learned that Cyrus Bettis, U.S. Army Air Service, had been ap- pointed to pilot the Army entry. He wasa most excellent pilot and probably one of the best men in the Army Air Service. My tasks were many and varied in preparation for the race--that is, in passing upon the EVENING POST appointments for the flying field, such as the location of the home pylon, the mark- ing of danger areas, the laying down of ground rules and the selection of the race course; and a fast pursuit ship was placed at my disposal, and was used for traveling between Washington and Long Island. I remember making one trip, when a favor- able tail wind was blowing my way, in one hour and twenty-three minutes. I looked at my watch at 1000 feet above Mitchel Field and it read eleven o'clock flat, and when I next inspected it the hands pointed to four minutes past one o'clock, and I was sitting at a conference in the Bureau of Aeronautics at Washington, D. C. That’s the real way to travel. A Race and a Necktie Lost Both Lieutenant Bettis and myself were very busy testing our ships and changing motors. These new engines, with one ex- ception, were full of trouble and disturbed everyone quite a bit. They were too young and tender for the stern, gruelling demands incidental to a Pulitzer Race, but they were the best to be had if we intended breaking any records. As _ mentioned above, one of the motors seemed to be per- forming in fine style, and on one of the acceptance-trial flights, while the timing apparatus was in position, I dived the ship in which this engine was installed over the course for an unofficial speed mark of 302.3 miles an hour. I'll tell you more of that later. Along came the day for the race, and with the usual excitement and fuss the ships were made ready. We all knew that if our motors, or one of them, should per- form according to manufacturers’ promises the Pulitzer records would be boosted four- teen or fifteen miles. New motors had been installed in our ships the day before the race and we had only had a few minutes’ flying time to check their operation. We started in the usual manner, and before I had completed the first lap I realized that unless something happened to Lieutenant Bettis’ ship I was destined to finish a poor second. My air-speed indicator never reached 250 miles an hour, and the ship had been built to make 265 miles an hour. On the second lap a strange vibration set up which worried me greatly; but since I was all prepared for trouble and was waxing belligerent about it, I thought, ‘Let it come along as big as it pleases.”’ There I sat watching that air-speed meter reading between 248 and 250 miles an hour and straining every nerve to get a few more miles out of it. Why, this was no better than my 1923 speed. Finally came the last lap and the finish, and as I was landing I saw Cy Bettis’ ship coming in for a landing also. Then I knew that in as much as he had finished I had been beaten, and the time announcement did not sur- prise me at all. There was no disgrace in it, but lots of disappointment. I tried to find Cy and congratulate him, but confusion prevented locating him; so I avoided the camera and hurried over to see my family and tried to recover my necktie. A necktie seems to be a jinx with me. I can seem to find anything else, no matter how great the excitement; but as in the instance men- tioned in connection with the 1923 speed trials, when I couldn’t find my darn tie, neither could I find it on this occasien. So in totaling up the day’s balances I had lost one Pulitzer Race and one necktie. The time records in the race disap- pointed everyone. Various accounts have sought to excuse the small advance of five miles over the 1923 Pulitzer records by blaming the weather and the visibility. It is true that the visibility was not very good, but if this had been the reason for the dis- appointing speeds it would mean claiming that the pilots had strayed from the course. But in becoming lost it would be impossible for two pilots to lose themselves and stray from the course in such a uniform fashion as to keep their lap timing about equal. All Lieutenant Bettis’ speeds were grouped November 6, 1926 around 248 miles an hour and all mine were about 242 miles an hour. Had each pilot’s lap speeds varied by three or four miles an hour, then it could probably have been attributed to the visibility. To terminate a futile discussion, it suffices to say that the ships just did not have any more speed in them and that the motors were chiefly to blame. And then again it must be remem- bered that advances in speed from 250 miles an hour upward will be much slower than up to the 250 mark, because the re- sistances are building up geometrically while the engine power is being increased arithmetically. The picture becomes more striking when we learn that at 250 miles an hour or better the pilot finds it impossible to force even his hand out into the terrific wind stream. An attempt to do such a thing would be just as impossible as trying to force one’s hand into a stream of water flowing frora a high- pressure fire hose. The hand will be bent positively and firmly toward the tail of the machine, and I’ve never been foolish enough to experiment any further than to try the strength of this wind stream in this manner. The wind pressure is terrific. I know that, so I have never wandered far from the protection of the wind shield. There are some interesting considera- tions which must be taken into account when planes and people are flying around at excessive speeds. The pilot doesn’t have to think much faster than when he is in a slow machine, but he must look and plan ahead just a wee bit more. He must move his mental operations ahead one or two pegs, and then he is just about up to what is going on. He must raise his line of vision to compensate for the rate at which he is destroying distance. While he is tearing along at such a pace the bumps will slam his ship around with unbelievable force and suddenness, and he will sometimes wonder how the plane stays together. And if he attempts to use his controls to fight each jolt he’ll surely have a miserable time, as ships of this type are constructed nowadays so that they will fly themselves much better than any man can operate them. They merely require gentle guidance; and until a pilot recognizes this peculiarity he is likely to have a merry time trying to boss his ship. In fact, it has always been my contention that I learned to fly racing ships only when I was so darn disgusted with bobbing around that I held the controls still and let the plane fly itself. Speed of the Future The amazing celerity with which you can get from place to place fascinates one to such an extent that the choosing of some objective miles away and speeding to it will furnish quite a kick or thrill, or call it what you like. Distance seems to fade away while you are speeding along at about 400 feet a second, and the plane is so small that it seems to be part of yourself, and that you are doing the flying and not the ship. You spy another plane in the air and hurry after it. It seems to be standing still, even though it may be making 100 miles an hour. You catch up with it and flash by it much faster than it can fly by a hangar or any stationary object. The controls answer your faintest pressure rapidly and with pre- cision, and as a matter of fact, while flying such a craft the nose of the machine may be pointed and directed with the same ease and precision as a rifle can be aimed. That is real flying. It fires and stimu- lates the imagination and has always made a strong appeal to me. As to future speeds? Who knows? What about the future of aviation? “‘Quién sabe?"’ One guess is as good as another. We have progressed from forty miles an hour to an actually timed 302.3 miles an hour, and accomplished that mark having used only one new metal. Our wings are still made of wood covered with fabric, and the airplane body is still constructed of wood. We are still forced to use heavy steel where we must have strength, but we are Continued on Page 56

Page 57

—— All the Styles THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ye? Or E of the most popular of the wewer and smarter Paige cars--is this charming 4-door sedan. Mounted on the same chassis as the extremely popu- lar Paige Brougham, this beautiful new body, though somewhat smaller than the biggest Paiges, is larger than most sedans. And it is also less costly. Indeed, it is in this new 4-door sedan—and its Smariness Of Paice -- at its lowest price! lubricated universals—-with unusually long and easy riding springs —and, of course, with the perfected Paige-Hydraulix 4+-W heel Brakes. Capable, unusually easy to handle, economical, long lived, and smart as the f Paris gown here is your next car. See it—at a Paige Jew ett show room soon J we know you'll like it companion car, the Landau Brougham-—that you can acquire Paige sty’ and Paige smartness at its lowest price. The costliest custom-built cars seldom present a more enchanting interior than you will find in this newest 4-door Paige sedan. Luxury is everywhere. You sit on the finest mohair upholstery over nested springs. You look at beautifully clus- tered instruments in one indirectly lighted panel. You cannot help but admire the skill that so cle erly placed the arm rests, and inlaid the walnut-finish panels. Silk toggle grips, twin smoking sets, charming corner lights—all enchant you. Mechanically, this newest Paige is even more dependable than ‘watveat the sturdy Paiges of old. It is replete with such advanced features asa counter-balanced crank shaft, thermostat, air cleaner, full high pressure oil feed to all rotating parts, including cam shaft, auxiliary shaft, and tappets. . . . . / It is equipped with balloon tires and / shock absorbers——with metal oil- | PAIGE & JEWETT & SIXES immensely, and you'll buy it. The complete Paige-Jewett line offer: a wide selection of body types and color: at prices ranging from $1195 to $2245. Steel wheels at slight extra cost. All prices are f. o. b. Detroit, tax extra. * * 4 Assets of $20,000,000 . Worldwide Dealer Organization One of the Newest and sinest Plants in the Industry 17 Years Under One Management Building Fine Cars Exclusively . Never Re- \ organized— Never Refinanced \ " : Sa

Page 58

Watch This Column RICHARD TALMADGE in “The Fighting Don” Here is a man who has proved once more that per- sonality and ability will always carry to the top. Richard Talmadge is the dare-devil young actor who has for two years starred in pictures made at moderate cost, but whose rare ability made him so widely popular that some of his pictures have been shown in as many as 7000 theatres. But theatre owners and the public began to insist loudly, ‘Give Talmadge a chance in BIGGER pictures—in famous stories, under the best of direction, with elaborate staging, and strong supporting players.” Now UNIVERSAL givesRICHARD TALMADGE his big chance and he is appearing soon in more pretentious and more costly pictures. The first produc- tion of his series will be ‘‘The Fighting Don,’’ a picturesque, thrilling story which gives this smooth young actor and stunt- man full scope for his unusual abilities. Watch for it. It will be directed by Irving Willat, and will be presented by UNIVERSAL in association with A. Carlos. 1 want to call your special attention to some of the big pic- tures coming from UNIVERSAL, notably, ‘*Michael Strogoff,’’ from Jules Verne’s celebrated melodrama; REGINALD DENNY in ‘‘ Take it from Me;’’ LAURA LA PLANTE in ‘‘The Midnight Sun.” ( arl Laem mle : P President (To be continued next week) Send 10c each for autographed photographs of Laura La Plante and Richard Talmadge UNIVERSAL PICTURES 730 Fifth Ave., New York City Continued from Page 54 getting unbelievable performance out of ships constructed of these materials and equipped with comparatively low horse power. What will happen when we start to use the new metals which are coming out—the magnesium alloys? What will happen when the structural weight of a plane will be reduced by 75 per cent, and equipped with motors of much higher horse power which also will be much lighter? This is not a daydream, and is not such a fanatical picture after all. What will happen when we develop the light metal-built monoplane? There are no biplane—one wing above the other— birds. They are all built along the monoplane de- sign. The biplane effect is man’s clever attempt to hold the wings together by the application of the world-old principle of cross bracing. What will happen when we find a way to retract the greater part of our wings and landing gear after we get the plane off the ground and flying fast enough? | Do you know that only a few feet of wing spread is necessary to sustain a plane at high speeds? I have frequently tipped my racer over on its side, with the wings per- pendicular to the ground, so they were no use to me at all; in fact, all they did was to hold the plane’s speed down, and while in this position it has been possible not only to fly level but also to climb higher. All these are wonders to look forward to, and they are only waiting for the certain advent of some new metals. Our scientists have already found some of the requisite al- loys, but have not yet discovered the methods for producing them economically in quantity. These things will come to pass and no human can prevent them from put- ting in an appearance. In a little more than twenty years the aviation-endurance record has been boosted from fifty-nine minutes’ duration to about forty-five hours’ continuous flying. The continents have been traversed. The oceans have been bridged. The most he had regretted the mad impulse which prompted him to accept the suggestion of his distributors for a European trip. In one way the trip was a success. Two pictures had been sent back to America from Naples, another from Rome, still an- other from Venice. Others had been filmed and were now being cut and titled. The dis- tributors had cabled that the European films were knock-outs; they urged an in- definite continuation of the Continental stay. They wrote that American audi- ences—long since grown familiar with Mid- night pictures—were convulsed over the antics of their favorite colored slapstick comedians against the exotic backgrounds of Europe. And it was while under the spell of enthusiasm engendered by this last letter that President Latimer engaged the great Malacca Jones for one picture, paying him a cash advance of two thousand dollars, American money. From the moment that Malacca stepped on the set every man, woman and child in the company hated him. They knew some- thing of the gorgeous reputation he had built for himself, but not until they came into intimate personal contact did they realize how superlatively dislikable he was. Malacca regarded himself as being just about the greatest person who ever swung a cane and wore spats. But the negro pic- ture company from Birmingham, Ala- bama, saw in the tall, slender actor just another negro. They were not dazzled by him. They bitterly resented his superiority complex. And when he gave snubs he re- ceived insults in return. Orifice discovered Ethiope Wall manicur- ing the floors of the rosbiff establishment. Mr. Wall looked up with hope blazing. Latimer spoke gently and apologetically of the menial job he was offering. The effect on Ethiope was electric. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST inaccessible spots on this planet have been photographed from an airplane. The mails are being carried by aircraft, and aviation is wrapping itself slowly but surely around the very heart of commerce, simply because it furnishes speedy transportation. Here is what I think we'll see within the next twenty years—and if you are a stand- patter, or too prone to say “‘I don’t think so,”’ stop reading right now! The speed record for straightaway flight will be between 300 and 400 miles an hour, and nearer to 400. The endurance record for continuous flight will be between four and five days. You won’t hear of forced landings, because there will always be more than one highly developed air-cooled en- gine on each light, metal-built ship, and one of these engines will be sufficient to keep the plane going at cruising speed. There will be huge lighter-than-air craft, much larger than what the Navy is experimenting and pioneering with now, crossing the con- tinent and both oceans on_ regularly scheduled trips. It’s waste of time to con- tinue. Those things are coming, and if you disagree just look back over the last score of years and make a comparison between the things that were and the things that are. Recalling my prediction about the high speed to be attained, you may be curious to know what the effect will be on the pilot, and whether a human will be able to stand such speed. If you eliminate the sharp turning features while flying at these great speeds, a pilot will find it just as easy to fly 500 miles an hour as it is to travel 302 miles an hour. The only difference I can remem- ber between flying 200 and later reaching the 300 miles an hour mark is that when the latter was achieved I wanted someone with me. My impression, when I first saw an air-speed indicator hand run up to and then over the 300 miles an hour mark, was a desire to call in my friends and point out the reading tothem. It was too big to keep to myself. There is a little history to LOW BUT SURE Continued from Page 48) He rose from his knees. He picked up a china dish, kissed it, then smashed it on the floor. The irate proprietor of the restaurant rushed out, chattering volubly and pro- fanely. Ethiope tossed him a five-franc note and turned exaltedly to Latimer. “‘Le’s travel, mistuh president. Next to workin’ fo’ Midnight, standin’ up fo’ Malacca Jones is the fondest thing I could possibly be of.”’ The following morning the company gathered in the Jardin du Roi Albert. The little park was crowded with eager and interested tourists. All Nice seemed to have gathered here on this particular morning. Special police permits gave the company a definite space in which to work. A dozen stocky little gendarmes were efficiently on hand to see that the actors were not dis- turbed. Malacca Jones arrived late. There was a honking of taxi horn, a high, querulous voice demanding gangway, a few haughty sentences in Afro-American French and Mr. Jones alighted from his taxi. He was resplendent this morning in suit of oyster gray, pin-striped with blue. He wore a wide, flapping straw hat, carried a whippy little cane and sported a large rose in his buttonhole. Someone in the crowd applauded. The word ran around the circle of spectators, ‘‘That’s Malacca Jones! He was starring last week at the Varieties. He was the sensation of Paris.” Mr. Jones strolled languidly toward the group about the camera. He nodded dis- dainfully to Director Clump, President Latimer, Forcep Swain, Exotic Hines and Lawyer Evans Chew. The cutting voice of one Florian Slappey came from somewhere in the background. “Yonder comes our hired help!” Clump spoke curtly as he pulled Ethiope Wall forward. November 6, 1926 air-speed indicators which may interest you. As aviation-racing speed progressed by leaps and bounds each year the old air- speed indicators were discarded. In 1922 we had only a few 200 miles an hour air speed meters in the world. In 1923 we had mighty few 250 miles an hour indica- tors, and in 1925 the faces of only a few air- speed meters showed a top speed marking of 350 miles an hour. During the war there were few planes whose terminal velocity exceeded 250 miles an hour, no matter how far they were dived, and no service air-speed indicators were calibrated up to that high mark. I believe both Lieutenant Brow and my- self went over the 300 mile mark in 1923. I had dived 9000 feet, starting the diving from an initial speed of 249 miles an hour, but as that was going straight down, I never looked on that as a real 300 mile mark. So in 1925, when I had a real 350 mile an hour air-speed indicator and a ship which might make 300 miles an hour, or five miles a minute, by crossing the course in a shallow dive, I seized upon the oppor- tunity immediately. I wanted to be the first mortal to fly at five miles a minute. And so the world moves on, calling for speed, and getting more and more each year. Every time we push aviation speed up a few miles the world is that much smaller. Of course there will be lives lost in this quest, but that is unavoidable, because speed means danger, and this holds as true in the manufacture of shoes as it does in the driving of an airplane. But the world and progress demand it, and will have it; and for this very reason I am always thrilled when I see an air-speed indicator hand run up to and over a hitherto untouched read- ing; and then I realize that another offer- ing has been placed in the eager hands of mankind, and that those hands are always beckoning for more. Editor’s Note—This is the second of two articles by Lieutenant Williams. “Heah’s yo’ stand-up man, Jones. This is Mistuh Ethiope Wall.” Deliberately, insultingly, Malacca sur- veyed the figure of his stand-up man. The others, watching the introduction, were amazed at the striking similarity. Barring a marked difference of costume they were as like as two brown peas. Ethiope was be- wildered with pleasure at meeting the mag- nificent Malacca. Mr. Jones was insulting. ** Boy,” he announced, “ you is honored.” **Y-y-yas-suh.” “Ain’t ev’ybody can stan’ up fo’ me.” ‘“*N-n-nos-suh.” “T congratulates you, Ethiope, on bein’ permitted to meet me. An’ mind you don't git me angry.” “*N-n-nos-suh.”’ “Tha’s all.” Malacca turned languidly away. “Go ahead an’ try this feller out, Clump. When you gits ready fo’ me I'll come let you take my pitcher.” Clump controlled himself with an effort. “T wish,” he reflected bitterly, “‘that a wasp would back up against that feller, an’ push. C’mon, Ethiope, le’s us commence.” Malacca Jones seated himself. And therefore he was out of sight of a pair of burning feminine eyes which stared eagerly through the crowd which congested the gardens. These eyes were round and brown and rather lovely. They belonged to one Adorée Lafourche, a very colored lady who from birth until three years previous had been resident in Morocco. For more than a year the colored Miss Lafourche had wanted to make the personal aq@juaintance of Malacca Jones. She had heard his name on many lips, and she rather fancied that her own powers as a charmer would make more than a trifling impression on Malacca. Continued on Page 58

Page 59

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Calibrated in 1-lb. units—10 to Made with ball foot— easy to use on any type wheel. Other types for High Pressure, Truck and Bus Tires. Por better car balance Test your tires every Friday ETTER car balance comes from keeping both front tires and both rear tires evenly inflated to their correct pressures. The way to be sure that they are kept up to the pressure your dealer recommends, is to test them every Friday, with the Schrader Tire Gauge. We suggest A. SCHRADER’S SON, Inc., BROOKLYN, Chicago, Toronto, London Friday because most tires get their hardest work over the week-end. Inaddition to better car balance, the correct pressure gives you more riding comfort, easier steer- ing and longer tire service. Schrader products are sold by more than 100,000 dealers throughout the world.

Page 60

SPENCER Double Grate Heater SPENCER FEATURES! Business of Buying a awaits your request. 0 | Buckwheat Coal HE enthusiasm of Spencer owners is by no means confined to the fact that they know it is the cheapest heater to own. The trouble they save is equally appealing. True, a Spencer Heater does cost far less to operate. Burning the No. 1 Buckwheat size of Anthracite, which costs on an average $7 less per ton than the ordinary domestic sizes, it quickly saves its entire first cost and pays a “net profit” for the rest of its long life. But economy is only one of the advantages which Spencer owners have been enjoying, many of them for thirty years or more. Mr. Ralph B. Clayberger, of Merchantville, N. J., sums them up as follows: “This was our first winter with a Spencer Heater, and... our most: comfortable one. Our heater ... has given splendid results and at a net saving in our coal bill of $105.78. Furthermore, it has been a source of no little satisfaction in knowing that, when I fixed it in the morning, it would not be necessary for my wife to touch it all day long, regardless of weather conditions, and that we could arise in the morning during the coldest weather with the house at 70 degrees.” The Spencer’s automatic feed does away with the continual attention necessary in the cus- tomary flat-grate heaters. A Spencer burns evenly day and night at any desired rate. The coal magazine needs filling only once or twice in twenty-four hours. “The Business of Buying a Heating System”, is a new book full of important information on fuels, relation of heating costs to other building investments, the relative advantages of one heating system or another for differ- ent purposes. It is of interest not only to home owners but to all who must consider the heating problem, whether for an apart- ment house, hotel, industrial building, church or school. A request will bring your copy. SPENCER HEATER COMPANY Factory and General Offices: Williamsport, Pa Offices in Principal ¢ t Division of LYCOMING MANUFACTURING COMPANY Spencer steam .vapor or hot water Heaters Averages $7 less per ton — Less attention required SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 56 And so she gazed hungrily at the man she thought was Malacca Jones; never suspect- ing that the tall, loose-jointed gentleman upon whom she lavished her worship was merely Mr. Jones’ stand-up man. She thought, quite naturally, that the man who posed easily before the camera was Ma- lacca. Actually it was the beatific Ethiope Wall! Ethiope was in the seventh heaven of de- light. Here he was acting in the movies, and if his histrionic talents were being ex- pended vicariously, at least he was closer to his goal than he had ever expected to get. Ethiope was unconscious of everything save the job, the contact with those of his kind, and the proximity of Mr. Malacca Jones. He was pathetically eager to please. Miss Adorée Lafourche, catching an occa- sional fleeting glimpse of her idol, thought he was simply grand. Miss Lafourche was ambitious. Her life in Morocco had been sadly uninteresting. In Nice there had been more pep, more spice. And there had been big Jean, who had followed her from Morocco and was | now working at a little garage in Ville- “Now that we have a SPENCER | —you need never shovel coal” franche. This Jean was a very colored gentleman of pronounced physical prowess. He was what in America would be described as bad medicine. He was atrociously bad medi- cine, rather addicted to jealousy and an overplus of affection for the somewhat in- constant Adorée. But just as Ethiope Wall was unconscious of Adorée, so, too, was he ignorant of the Moroccan rattlesnake who yearned to make Adorée his wife. The crowd grew denser in the shady reaches of the gardens. Adorée found her- self very much on the outskirts, her view of the famous actor extremely fragmentary. Eventually she moved away and walked for a long distance down the Promenade des Anglais, listening to the soft waters lapping against the pebbly shore and wondering whether it might be possible, even faintly possible, to meet the superb Malacca Jones. Meanwhile work progressed excellently that day and the next. Malacca seemed to have voiced his final serious protest when he demanded the services of a stand-up man, and now he confined himself to a minimum of work and a maximum of per- sonal unpleasantness. Every person in the Midnight organization grew to hate him with a bitter and devastating hatred. After the second day even the docile Mr. Wall found himself agitated by occasional flashes of resentment. It was all very well for Malacca to know that he was successful, but when he translated his opinion of him- self into carping criticism of others Malacca was, to put it mildly, hard to handle. Director J. Cesar Clump frothed at the mouth through long mornings and brief afternoons. The company was work- ing now on interior shots, having rented an old studio out in the general direction of Cannes. The studio possessed fair-to- middling lighting equipment and _ anti- quated mechanical facilities. And inside the four walls Malacca was most offensive to his director. The company squirmed and writhed and swore. President Latimer, more worried than he cared to admit, counseled patience. Malacca represented an investment of nearly ten thousand dollars, and Latimer explained passionately that it would be dis- astrous financially if anything happened to him. “Tf!” spluttered Cwsar. ‘Orifice, that feller is hoverin’ on the brink of a precipice, an’ one of these mawnin’s Ise gwine lose my head, an’ over he goes! With a monkey wrench after him.” “He is pretty bad, Cesar. But we got to stand it “TIT know. On’y thing keeps me fum bustin’ off is Ethiope Wall. That feller must be half angel an’ half fool.” Latimer was glad to change the subject **How you like Ethiope?” Clump’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. **He’s good, Orifice. Real honest-to-good- ness good. Seems like to me that when he November 6, 1926 rehearses fo’ Malacca he does it better than Malacca does hisse’f when he acts. Co’se maybe Ise prejudicialled 4 “You must be. Malacca Jones has got a swell reputation.” “Don’t I know that? Ain’t he been pro- claimin’ such ever since we signed him up? Does I ever hear anythin’ else fum mawnin’ tonight? Golla! Ethiope Wall, now, he’s the sort of feller I roots fo’. He’s modest an’ gentle an’ willin’. I think he’s a better actor than Malacca. I do, honest. An’ they is enough alike in looks Latimer shook his head. ‘‘’Sall right fo’ you to like Brother Wall, but don’t go git- tin’ no fool notions in yo’ head ‘bout Malacca not bein’ swell.” ““Co’se he is. I never said he wasn’t. But if I ever slips an’ exterminates him it ain’t gwine affeck our pitcher none. With a li'l’ trick photography an’ no close-ups, Ethiope Wall could finish out that pitcher so you'd never know the diff’ence.”’ Clump was not the only one who re- sponded to the eager friendliness of the gangling American negro who had resided in France since 1917. They stared pop-eyed when Ethiope chattered in French with the natives, they welcomed his thoughtful littl attentions, they impressed him into service as guide and tutor. Each expressed a secret hope that Orifice Latimer could be induced to make the man a permanent member of the troupe. But if Midnight thought Ethiope was fine, Mlle. Adorée Lafourche, of Morocco, Africa, believed he was a riot. twice she had journeyed to spots where the company was shooting and always she had seen Ethiope standing up for Malacca Jones. The impression had become fixed in her mind that it was the great Malacca she was seeing. And on the fourth night o Ethiope’s employment she was waiting out side the studio door when he emerged. Dusk was settling down over the Azure Coast; a haze of purple and gray shot through with the red gold of the setting sun Automobiles thrummed by, and an occa sional tram. Ethiope stood in the clear, cool air. He knew now what happiness meant. Even here in France he was at home, and he was content. A voice spoke to him in limpid French. A woman's voice; soft, alluring, tantalizing. “This is M’sieu Jones, is it not?” Ethiope faced his dusky inquisitor. He started to explain that she was in error, but before the words emerged from his lips Adorée spoke again. “Ah, but I know that it is M’sieu Jones! I have seen you working in this so great cinema.” The thrill of a lifetime surged over the ordinarily modest Mr. Wall. It was almost glory enough to stand up for Malacca, but to be actually mistaken for that gorgeous star He yielded. He doffed his hat, bowed low and swept the lady with his eyes. He spoke in his very best French. “Malacca Jones, mamselle, at your serv Once or ice. Adorée gasped with delight. This was far easier than she had anticipated. Rumor had it that Malacca, while quite impression able, was certainly not accessible. “I think,” said Adorée, ‘‘that m’sieu is the most wonderful man in all the world.” “Hot diggity dawg!"’ whispered Ethiope in English. Then in the language of the country: “‘And mamselle is the most won derful woman.” She coquetted with him. about to dine?” “If mamselle will accompany him.” Mamselle, it seemed, would. She did They found a little café on the Rue de l’Escarene, where they became better ac quainted as they ate. Afterward they walked along the Quai Saint Jean Baptiste and gazed at the dry bed of what was sup posed to be the Paillon River. And still iater they found themselves on the prom- enade staring across the broad waters of the Mediterranean. A path of moonlight Continued on Page 60 “M’sieu

Page 61

Chrysler Standardized Quality Assures Typical Chrysler Superiority The Chrysler plan of Quality Standardization differs from,and is superior to, ordinary manu- facturing practice and methods, because it demands fixed and in- flexible quality standards which enforce the same scrupulously close limits—the same rigid rule of engineering exactness—the same absolute accuracy and pre- cision of alignment and assem- blage—in the measurement, the machining and the manufactur- ing of every part, practice and process in four lines of Chrysler cars—"S0”, “60”, “70” and Impe- rial “80"—so that each individual car shall be the Supreme Value in its own class. Thus “purchaser’s risk” is elimi- nated. The purchaser is assured of absolute safety. He knows that every Chrysler—from the lowest-priced to the highest- priced—is the supreme value in its class. That the value of each is unquestionable. CHRYSLER 50” “Bo” “70” “ie” CHRYSLER MODEL NUMBERS MEAN MILES PER HOUR THE SATURDAY EVENING POST CHRYSLER | ‘5 Oo’ If you compare the Chrysler “50” in your own mind with the only other four cylinder cars of large productic n, its purely objective features—full-size, family seating propor- tions, richness of upholstery, characteristic Chrysler beauty and symmetry, fine finish-— this car looms up as an amazing moneyvalue. But the contrast grows still more striking when power, speed, acceleration and econ- omy are compared. Fifty miles an hour, § to 25 miles in eight seconds, 25 miles to the gallon—all these things render the Chrysler “50” unique in its class and unprecedented at its price. $750 *780 *830 Coupe All Prices f. o. b. Detroit. ‘Satins to current t Fede val excise tax, CHRYSLER . ~ O When acarlikethelighter six,Chrysler “60” has qualities distinctiy, definitely different, which stand out like a lighthouse in a fog —and another car has not got them—no comparison is possible. The difference is in creative engineering— in fine-measurement-manufacturing—in short, in Chrysler Standardized Quality. Walter P. Chrysler and his engineers and manufacturers firmly believe there has never been produced a car as brilliant as the Chrysler “60” at such a price. It is readily recognizable as standing out above all others in its particular field, as the Chrysler “70” does even today in its field, after three years of supremacy. Five body types—Priced from $1075 to $1295, f.o.b. Detroit. Subject to current Federal excise tax

Page 62

BRIDGE 4y RADIO —__—<——4.___—_———_ 1__—__ Week of ‘adil Sth Should Mr. Work make a pre-emptive bid? Should Mr. Lenz? Is it ever wise to

lead your last trumps after opponents are out? These and many other fine points vill be illustrated by the experts. Try a e hands, then follow the game over the 1 die. Milton C. Work, New York, dealer, South Spades a, 4 3 eS He: irts None Diamonds 2 Clubes......%, 0, 10, 9, 7, 4, 3 Sidney S. Lenz, New York, West - learts \, ), .. 10, 3.4 2 De ymonds Kk, + 4 Club s,0 Wilbur C. Whitehead, New York, North f Spades 9,8, 4,3 Hearts 9, 8, 3 Ny Diamonds Q, 10, 9, 8, 5 \ Clubs 2 E. V. Shepard, New York, East Spades A, 2 Hearts mK, 7,0 Diamonds \ ] 1 a [A Clubs 4,J,5 Tues., Nov. 9, 10 P. M. (E. Be WEAF, WSAI, KSD, WCAE, WCCO, WEAR, WEEI, WFI, WGN, WGR, WHAR, WOC, WRC, WTAG, WWJ. S pers for broadcasting time of following stor \ Houston VIFAA Dallas News Dallas ‘ New Orlear WOAM Woodmen ot the World — tha W DAI Kansas City Staz Kansas ¢ , Mo Milwat kee Portland Oakla id 1 ta er

W Mi Memphis Commer \

i cannot Bicyek lity for than Bi ycle price. BICYCLE and CONGRESS PLAYI NG CARDS — ¥ Games _— Wr ne and addre

marg

THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 58 danced across the waters and there was a boat. Mademoiselle Lafourche was over- flowing with joy at her conquest. Mr. Ethiope Wall, now Malacca Jones, was mounting to heights of beatitude which he had never before even suspected. It was late when they separated, but not before they had made an engagement to meet for dinner the following night at the little café on the Rue de |’ Escarene—and all the next day Ethiope found himself regard- ing the insufferable Malacca with eyes into which there was creeping a speculative light. That evening and the next Ethiope was with the dark-brown charmer from Mo- rocco and points north. It was magnificent to be mistaken for Malacca Jones, and still more charming to know that he was suc- cessfully maintaining the masquerade. Adorée asked him much about himself. He tried to boast as he had heard Jones do, but for the most part he was content to listen to her encomiums. During these evenings the mantle of the great Malacca Jones sat upen him. He was grateful that for two weeks Ma- lacca was not playing at any music hall or casino. In that event Ethiope would have been forced to curtail the pleasure of this glorious creature’s society. Meanwhile work on the Malacca Jones special feature was nearing completion and the nerves of every official in the organiza- tion were approaching the breaking point. Each day there hung over the decrepit studio a miasma of lethal uncertainty. Clump had become almost demented by Malacca’s overbearing demeanor. Latimer tried to make peace. Lawyer Evans Chew attempted to impress Mr. Jones with a sense of his own importance, but his vaunted pomposity fell flat. Only Florian Slappey succeeded in mak- ing any impression on the haughty Mr. Jones. Florian imitated him. Florian bur- lesqued him. Florian ranged himself well within earshot and regaled his friends with the mannerisms of the tall negro who was the sensation of France. Florian’s audi- ence would become convulsed with mirth. All except Malacca Jones. He loathed Florian and feared his ridicule. And he vented his spleen on Ethiope Wall. Malacca made Ethiope’s life a misery. He tore him to shreds with cutting words. Ethiope became haggard, and only the thought of his evenings with Adorée—who thought he was Malacca Jones—kept him from performing immediate mayhem. EXthiope stood it all. It was not easy, but rebellion meant too much. If Malacca de- manded his dismissal he would be kicked out—back again to a lonely life in France, hoping for the miracle which might carry him to America. He posed for Mr. Jones, he bore the man’s bitter criticism of his make-up and manner, he accepted meekly the vituperation of the music-hall star, and if homicide held sway in his heart he gave no outward indication. And so matters rocked along—tension in the company, worry over the future on the part of Ethiope Wall, and a development of which nobody save Adorée Lafourche knew anything. From Villefranche one night came Adorée’s fiancé, Jean. Adorée was out. Jean talked lonz and earnestly with the landlady at the humble lodgings she occu- pied, He learned many things; for Adorée had not been backward about proclaiming her conquest of the incomparable Malacca Jones. Monsieur Jean’s complexion changed from shiny black to the color of abandoned cigar ashes. His eyes narrowed and his lips compressed. Monsieur Jean felt that he was about to acquire one of his bad spells. And when Jean became bad he became bad all over. The hot unreasoning blood of African forbears coursed in his veins; he was a person of violent moods and more vio- lent actions. The big, bulging muscles of his sinewy frame grew tense; his hamlike fists clenched, his bullet head was shoved

EVENING POST forward and he splattered a stream of French profanity. Then he awaited the late homecoming of Adorée. She came tripping into the house after having separated from the supposed Malacca Jones at the corner. She stopped short at sight of the human thundercioud which hovered over her. Jean spoke. He spoke long and passionately. He expressed his candid opinion of Adorée. And, much to his amazement, she entered no denial. “True,” she said, have been going with Monsieur Jones. He is one grand, noble man, and not a pig of a garage helper. He appreciates me.”’ Somehow Jean did not feel flattered. Adorée was entirely too frank. He raved. He stormed. Heswore. She tossed her head and announced that the liking between herself and Monsieur Malacca Jones was entirely mutual and that she intended cultivating it. Jean stood rocklike, staring down upon her. He swayed slightly on the balls of his tremendous feet. He gave vent to a few ejaculations. Then he whirled and van- ished. A light little laugh flew from Adorée’s lips. It was indeed good to excite Jean’s jeal- ousy. Of course she expected to marry him eventually. Meanwhile it was well to let him understand that she was the sort of girl who could win, and hold, the favor of France’s so great music-hall star. Outside, Jean did not pause to brood over his troubles. Not Jean. He was a man of definite and positive action. He sought al- ways to still trouble at its source. He moved downtown toward the blazing lights and midnight merriment with a roll- ing, space-eating stride. His eyes gleamed like the head lamps of a taxi and his feet crunched rhythmically on the pavement. He swung down the Avenue Félix Faure, past the Municipal Casino and into a little café on the Avenue de la Victoire. There he made certain inquiries regarding the prob- whereabouts of Monsieur Malacca Jones, one-time music-hall satellite and now moviestar. The information was given. Meanwhile in the lobby of a small hotel on the Boulevard Dubouchage one man was talking and another man was listening. The talking man was seated. The other, tall and thin and with the light of dumb suffering in his eyes, stood humbly before him. ‘An’ futhermo’,” rasped Malacca Jones, “you ain’t wuth a durn. You is one no- ’count piece of tripe which ain’t fitten to be my stand-up man. How come you to be late tonight? I asks you that?” Bitter resentment flamed in the placid bosom of Ethiope Wall. He controlled him- self with an effort. “Tse sorry, Mistuh Jones. Truly I “Sorry! Piffle! I got a good min’ to fire you. If it wasn’t that this pitcher is pretty near finished Pe A cyclone entered the lobby —a black and fearful cyclone which proclaimed loudly that it wished to make the acquaintance of Mr. Malacca Jones. The clerk motioned toward the languid and elegant figure which was rising from an easy-chair. Jean advanced toward Malacca. Ethiope, sensing disaster, discreetly withdrew to an obscure corner of the lobby. The mountainous Moroccan bulked for- biddingly in front of the elegant Malacca. The conversation was conducted in French, which Ethiope understood perfectly. **You are Malacca Jones?” accused Jean. Mr. Jones, considerably puzzled, bowed. “‘T have that honor.” “Honor? Mon Dieu!” Jean’s laugh was harsh. ‘‘And has monsieur also the honor to be acquainted with Mam’selle Adorée Lafourche?”’ The words came clearly and distinctly to the ears of Ethiope Wall. Mr. Wall imme- diately sought to make himself even more inconspicuous. His eyes grew big as saucers. He trembled. He prepared for flight. Malacca shook his head. “I have never heard of the lady,” he averred. His words had a tonic effect on temper. The big frame quivered. able Jean's

November 6,1926 “Liar!’’ he snorted. Malacca Jones was a prideful man. He did not relish being branded as a liar in public. “I am not a liar,” he protested. “You say you do not know my Adorée?”’ “T say that.” “Then I repeat that you are a liar. Malacca started to turn away, muttering something about a gendarme. Jean the Moroccan swung into action. All the pent-up anger and jealousy was in that first resounding wallop. It caught Malacca Jones on the side of the head, and even before he hit the lobby floor Jean had struck again. Malacca stretched full-length on the tile Jean flung himself on the prostrate figure. Fists and feet were working overtime, and Mr. Jones commenced shrieking for help in a queer mixture of French and American. Mr. Ethiope Wall, nervous and shaken, vanished into the street. The following morning the members of the Midnight Pictures Corporation, Inc., of Birmingham, Alabama, U. S. A., gathered at the battered studio for the finishing touches on their two-reel special featuring the great Malacca Jones. They waited for two hours, but Mr. Jones did not appear. Rumor reached the studio; queer rumor of physical combat in the lobby of a hotel the previous night. An attack on the immaculate Mr. Jones by a jealous fiancé. Rumor had it that Mr Jones had departed Nice suddenly and per- manently and would not appear, now or ever, to complete his picture. A messenger, dispatched downtown, returned in a taxi- cab and reported that the rumors were true Malacca was gone, sadly shopworn but able to travel far and fast. The face of President Latimer reflected lugubriosity. He wrung his hands. “Oh, golla!’’ he moaned. ‘An’ the pitcher ain’t finished yet.” J. Cesar Clump was grinning. every other person in the studio, save pos- sibly the lanky Ethiope Wall, who knew much and said little. “You should worry, Orifice. Lawyer Evans Chew was sayin’ that on account Malacca has busted his contrack with us we don’t have to pay him no more money out- side the adwance he has a’ready got.” Orifice brightened. ‘‘That so, Lawyer Chew?” ‘Absolutely. Under the laws of the Code of Napoleon as written an’ provided fo’ the government 5 ‘*Nemmin’ all them talkments, Lawyer Chew. We accepts yo’ decision without no argument.”’ Latimer faced Clump again. ** However is us gwine finish up the pitcher without Mistuh Jones?”’ ‘Easy enough,” responded the director happily. ‘‘Ain’t I told you all along that this boy Ethiope Wall is a good actor an’ that 1 could make him up an’ photograph him so as nobody woul’n’t never be able to tell the diff’ence ’tween him an’ Malacca?”’ “You sholy has.” “Well, I meant it. around. ‘‘ Ethiope, come here The lengthy figure of Mr. W all shuffled uncertainly forward. He wore a worried, harassed expression. ““Ethiope,”” announced Clump boldly, “T an’ President Latimer has been tryin’ to figure fo’ a long time how us could make a pummanent job fo’ you with Midnight It now seems like yo’ opporchunity has came. Malacca Jones has departed, an’ he is goin’ to stay there. There is some more shots to be taken. I says you can act his part as good as he could. So I asks if you want to try it, an’ if you make good, accept a job with us?” The face of Mr. Ethiope Wall was ra- diant. This indeed was the fulfillment of his fondest wish. “Oh, lawsy,”’ he murmured ecstatically ‘You is askin’ me whether I is willin’ to act o’ Malacca Jones?” “Uh-huh. Is you?” “T’ll say Lis!” enthused Ethiope. Then a twinkle appeared in his eyes. ‘An’ why So was “y Clump swung ” not? Didn’t Malacca do as much for me last night?”

Page 63

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 78) 8) 8) YEAR Service Station ; eS a pecs A representative G yodyeat Service Station: that Quality is on The Goodyear Supertwist Balloon Tire is able as it is, would fail of its full useful: generally recognized as the foremost example if run under conditions of abuse o1 of the present state of the tire-building art So the Goodvear policy is, not only In its construction is used the celebrated cord phe greatest possible value into fabric Supertwist, that remarkable material — also to py recently developed by Goodyear. all this cale Phe superiority Of SUPERTWIsT Is in its greater Accordingly Goodvear tire quality is backed DaChK elasticity; under road-shock it stretches and with = bertlene cresnicscion of eclece Goel recovers without breaking, likerubberbands. year dealers. pledged to help you give yo CULCd ee — . rh ner 1 This flexibility is inherent in the very structure tires timely and proper care. | of the Supertwist cords themselves, and ts This union of Goodyear quality and service not dependent upon latex, gum or filler of is responsible for that matchless pertormancs any kind. ; . which vear after vear makes ‘more peop Yet even this great tire, magnificently service- — ride on Goodyear Tires than on any other kina Goodyear Means Good Wear Copyright 1926, by The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., Inc. | a | “ ie x ‘ i , ll l Ht I UII) MMII UII)

Page 64

elieve me, there’s nothing like Mennen™ E. V. D. Paul, who used to ride the range in the cow country, has the real cow- puncher’s slant on shaving. Here’s a let- ter I got from him recently: ** Keeping the beard down on the round- up and riding herd—with alkali water and a du!l blade—is no joke. That's why I prized my Mennen Shaving Cream—and still do—almost as much as I did my horse **Believe me. there's nothing like Mennen. I had all the stubble mowed 5 or 10 minutes before the other boys had stopped howling—with a clean, smooth face that felt bully. Mennen sure softens the whiskers—they just fall away when the old razor starts to go through ** I've been e Mennen fan since 1914, and I expect to use it as long as my whiskers are rarin’ to grow.” Pretty straight from the shoulder—he knows. You'd talk the saime way if you knew. That’s why I want to make a proposition. Send me a post card and I'll send you--FREE—a special Demon- stration Tube of Mennen Shaving Cream. I want you to use it until it’s all gone, because by then I know you'll be a regular Mennen customer for life. 34 inch on your brush will build the biggest, firmest, wettest bank of lather you ever saw. The ease with which your razor slips through the whiskers will convince you that everything I have said about Dermutation—the Mennen process of absolute beard-softening—is true and then some. Honestly, you'll be amazed at the quick, clean, smooth shave you get—no scraping or pulling—a shave that stays shaved all day f you don't want to bother to send for the free Demonstration Tube, you can buy a big tube— good for five months of daily shaving—for 50 cents. If it doesn’t thoroughly convert you to Mennen, send me the tube. I'll refund your money, plus postage. * * * Now about after shaving. There’s noth- g ing quite like Mennen Skin Balm. Feel its fine, fresh tingle. Reduces pores. Tones up skin. Makes you look 100°. Price 50c. Mennen Talcum for Men doesn't show on the face. Absorbs any excess mois- ture. Tops off the per- . fect shave. 25c. “nm Hema Mennen Salesman THE MENNEN COMPANY 341 Central Avenue, Newark, New Jersey The Mennen Company, Limited Montreal, Quebec MENNSn SHAVING CREAM THE SATURDAY “Steward, a whisky-soda for Mr. Mac- Clintock and myself. Have one, Hoyt? You, Paterson?”’ Cruel, thin, casual talk clicking against the teeth in nervous haste; the commercial talk of men bartering their lives against each tick of the clock; men caught like rats in a trap, with no escape but death or a lucky chance like Mallory’s. Caught and yet denying the trap—laughing at it until the low roof of the mess shack rumbled with the echo; drowning it in whisky for the night. Afterward, Hoyt came down the passage with him to his room— Hoyt, with his face cleaned of the afternoon’s oil and his eyes slightly bright with the wine he had taken. ‘*We're relieved tomorrow on account of casualties,” he said. “I'll tick you out early and we'll go joy riding—see what we can teach each other.” He _ smiled. “Night.” aterson undressed slowly and threw back the flap of his sleeping bag. He ran his fingers softly down the muscles of his left arm. Automatically they stopped at the spot Mallory had been hit. He stretched his thumb from the arm to his heart—seven inches. He shrugged. Nice to go that way. Clean and quick. He sat upon the edge of his cot and pulled on his pajama trousers. Oh, well, this was the place—the last place he had to go to. This was the cot he would sleep his last sleep in. If it weren't a lonely job! That chap in the mess who wouldn't be a two-seater pilot for anything. If he could only feel like that. If he could only feel Hoyt’s complacency. Hoyt, with his calm smile and the two little ribbons under his wings. Military Cross and the Legion of Honor, and three months before he had been green—pucka green! Paterson blew out the light and turned in. Hoyt was a good fellow—damned decent. Outside he could hear Phelps- Barrington’s voice muffled by the snow: “Come on, snap into it! Tender for Amiens! Who’s coming?” The yell died in the roar from the car’s engine. Paterson lay for a moment thinking; then suddenly he reached for his pocket flash, snapped it and stared nervously at the empty cot across the room. There was no bedding on it, nor any kit tucked under it; only the chair beside it, and the cracked mirror. He got up and padded over in his bare feet. Stenciled on one corner of the can- vas there was a name—J. G. H. Lyons. There had been no Lyons introduced to him in the mess. Perhaps he was on leave. Perhaps he had flu with Trent and was down at the base. The spot of fear in his heart trembled slightly and he knew sud- denly where J. G. H. Lyons was. He was dead! Somewhere out in the snow, miles across the line, J. G. H. Lyons slept in a shattered cockpit. The door behind him opened softly. It was Hoyt, in pajamas. ‘‘Got a cigarette?” he asked casually. Paterson turned sharply and grinned. “Righto,” he said. ‘There on the table.” Hoyt took one and lighted it. ‘“‘Can’t sleep,”’ he said. ‘‘Come in and take Mal- lory’s cot if you want to. I’ve some new magazines and I can tell you something about our work here until we feel sleepy.”’ Hoyt was a good fellow—damned decent. The cold wet mist lay upon the fields like a soft veil drawn across the face of an old woman who had died in the night. Me- chanics, with their balaklavas pulled down across their ears, were running about briskly to keep warm—kicking chocks in front of under-carriage wheels, snapping propellers down with mighty leaps and sweeps until the cold engines barked into life and settled to deep concert roaring. Dust and pebbles, scattered by the back- wash, swept into the billowing hangars ina thin choking cloud that pattered against EVENING POST FEAR (Continued from Page 21) the canvas walls. Hoyt’s machine trem- bled and crept out of the line, with Phelps- Barrington after it. Trent, who had come back from the base the day before, taxied out next. Paterson waved to the mechanics to pull out his own chocks. They yanked mightily on the ropes and he blipped his motor with his thumb. Behind him and to the left came Yardley, the new man who had come up from Pool to fill Mallory’s place. Then MacClintock, sitting high in his cockpit, rushed out with a roar and a swish of gravel. MacClintock was deputy leader. Hoyt waved his hand in a quick nervous sweep and the flight started. Through the mist they roared with their engines howling into sharp echo against the hut walls. A moment later tails whipped up and wheels bounced lightly upon the uneven ground. Then Hoyt’s nose rose sharply and he zoomed into the air in a broad climbing turn, with the five others after him in tight formation. Paterson glanced at his altimeter—five hundred feet. He looked ahead and to the left. There wus Bapaume in its raggedness, half drowned in the mist. Suddenly Phelps-Barrington’s machine burst into rose flame and every strut and wire trem- bled like molten silver—the sun. He could see the red rim just peeping up ahead of him and he was warmer for the sight of it. Below, under the rim of his cockpit, the ground was still wrapped in its gray shroud. They were climbing up in close forma- tion. The altimeter gave them four thou- sand feet now. He glanced to the left. Yardley waved. Yardley was going through the agony of his first patrol over the line the same agony he had gone through him- self the week before. Only Yardley seemed different somehow—surer of himself—less imagination. He was older too. Behind them, MacClintock, the watchdog, was closing in on their tails and climbing above them to be ready to help if the Hun swooped from behind unexpectedly. There were clouds above—gray blanket clouds that came together in a solid roof, with only a torn hole here and there to show the blue. Bad clouds to be under. Hoyt knew it and kept on climbing. Almost ten thousand feet now. The ground below had cleared slowly and thrown off most of its sullen shroud. Here and there, in depres- sions, the mist still hung in arabesque ruffles like icing in a confectioner’s window or the white smoke of a railway engine. The line was under them now, running south and east like a jagged dagger cut, in and out, in and out across the land, not stopping for towns, but cleaving straight through their gray smudgy ruins with a cold disregard and a ruthless purpose. The first day he had seen it, it had seemed a dam to him; a breakwater built there to hold something that must not flow past it; a tourniquet of barbed wire twisted and held by half the world that the blood of the other half might not flow. Some day something would break and the whole thing would give way for good or evil. Curiously now, like Hoyt, he didn’t care which. And suddenly he knew how his older brother had felt, on that last leave, and he had called him unsporting in the pride of his youthful heart! Hoyt was still climbing. Thin wraiths of cloud vapor groped awkwardly for the six tiny Camels, like ghost fingers trying desperately to stop them and hold them from their work. Paterson glanced again at Yardley. He had been glad when Yard- ley came. He was still green himself, but Yardley was greener. It helped buck him up to think about it. The line was behind them now. Hoyt turned south to pass below the anti-aircraft batteries of Cambrai, and presently they crossed the tarnished silver ribbon of the Somme-Scheldt Canal. Mechanically Pat- erson reached for his Bowden trigger and November 6,1926 pressed it for a burst of ten shots to warm the oil in his Vickers gun against the bite of the cold air. Then he clamped the joy stick between his knees and reached up for the Lewis gun on his top plane. His throat closed abruptly, with a ghastly dryness, and his knees melted be- neath him. The wing fabric beside his gun was ruffling into torn lace and he could see the wood of the camber ribs splintering as he watched! For a moment he was para- lyzed, then frantically le whipped around in his seat and swept the air above him. Nothing. There was the torn fabric and the staring rib and nothing else. MacClin- tock was gone. Yardley was still there, lagging, with the smoke coming in puffs and streaks from his engine. Then Hoyt turned in a wild climb to the left. Phelps- Barrington dipped his nose suddenly and dived with his engine full on, and at once, where there had been only six Camels, the sky was full of gray machines with blunt noses and black crosses. Blindly he pressed his Bowden trigger and fired into the empty air, blindly he dived after Phelps-Barrington. Some- where to the left he saw a plume of black smoke with something yellow twisting in the sunlight on its lower end. A blunt nose crossed his propeller—into his stream of bullets. He screamed and banked wildly, still firing. He saw Hoyt above him. He forgot the machine in front and reached for his Lewis to help Hoyt. He tried to wait something about the outer ring of the rear sight —but his fingers got the better of him and he fired point-blank. As quickly as it had begun it ended. There was Hoyt circling back, and two other Camels to the left and below him four of them. They closed in on Hoyt and he wondered where the two others were. He looked for them—probably chasing after the Huns. He could see dots to the southward— too far away to make out the markings. Hoyt had signaled the washout and they were headed back across the line Funny those two others didn’t come. He wondered who they were. Probably Phelps-Barrington and MacClintock, hang- ing onto the fight until the last. They worked together that way. He had heard them talk in the mess about it. They’d be at it again tonight, and tonight he could join them for the first time. He’d been ina dog fight! Shot and been shot at! The spot of fear shrank to a pin point. The brown smudge of the airdrome slid over the horizon. He blipped his motor and glided in carefully. No use straining that top wing—no telling what other parts had been hit. No use taking chances. Hoyt was standing beside his machine with his glove off, staring at his finger nails. Phelps-Barrington was climbing out. Pat- terson taxied in between them. The man in the fourth machine just sat and stared over the rim of his cockpit. Phelps-Barrington walked slowly across to Hoyt and laid a hand ‘on his shoulder. Hoyt shrugged and stuffed his bare hand into his coat pocket Paterson sat with his goggles still on and his throat quite dry. The man in the fourth machine vaulted out suddenly, ripped off his helmet and goggles and hurled them to the ground. It was Trent. He climbed out of his own machine and walked over toward Hoyt. Phelps- Barrington, who had a wild word for all occasions— Phelps-Barrington, who led the night trips to Amiens—was silent. When Paterson came up he shrugged and scowled ferociously. “Is it you, Pat?” said Hoyt. it was Yardley.” “’Struth!’’ said Phelps-Barrington. “*Let’s go and have a drink.” Paterson thrilled as the man slipped an arm through his. For one awful moment he had thought “Well,” Hoyt said, ‘‘those things will happen.’ And he shrugged again. (Continued on Page 65) “Thought

Page 65

\n amporcant *. osiery “wer ar EN 8 Tne eee S- Due to our unique and direct method of merchandising, Realsilk Hosiery always is FRESH silk . . than 24 days from Filature to Foot seldom more HEN buying silk hosiery, most everyone looks only for texture, color and shaping... and these are important factors, of course. But there is one additional quality—more important than any of these—about which you should always be assured before you buy... For, regardless of how much you may pay for silk hosiery, if this element is lack- ing, your stockings and socks cannot be expected to afford the utmost in appearance and wear. Silk hosiery, to possess enduring beauty and truly long life, must be FRESH silk .. . for silk that has been permitted to age rarely has the same vibrancy and sheen, the same vitality and strength, as pure, fresh silk... silk that is FRESH when you get it! How much the Real Silk Hosiery Mills have ac- complished in making their products entirely from FRESH silk is really surprising . . . How this great institution—now the largest of its kind in the world— obtains the raw silk in the Orient; transports it to this country; converts it into sheer, lustrous silk stock- ings and socks, and delivers them to Realsilk custom- ers throughout the land, a// in a matter of 24 days, is a striking commentary on the efficiency of Realsilk’s unique and direct method of manufacturing and selling. Just consider . . . 24 days from Filature to Foot . . less than four weeks from the time the raw silk is taken from the tiny cocoons in far-off Japan until you are wearing it . . . But that is the secret of long wear and lasting beauty in the hosiery you buy direct from our Mills this new money-saving Realsilk way. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 62 Juestion to ask when “FROM MILL TO MILLIONS” If you have been under the impression that all silk hosiery is very much alike in quality . . . if you have never before realized just how much the very freshness ntatives now otfer Rea of the silk contributes to beauty and wear—we urge cs and offices of every community. you to try Realsilk Hosiery—just once. . . After that ssigned to'your locality, and ¥ou we will rely on your own good judgment, for we zive hi calls. know that your opinion undoubtedly will coincide of remarkable hosiery and lingerie val with that of the millions of men and women who now : ap : tR y mc is make up Realsilk’s ever-increasing clientele. id rye F the ae Ses REAL SILK Hosiery MILLS, INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA, U.S.A vill crane & tee rld’s Largest Manufacturers of Silk H {) Makers of Fine Lingerie 2509 BRANCH OFFICES IN THE UNITEI AT AND CANADA or nsulce "Pi.one Directory for Your L« gh REALSILK HOSIERY CHILDRENS STOCKINGS AND MI NS SOCKS

Page 66

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1/1926 Your first question... Among the 20,000,000 cars in the United States, there is a steadily growing propor- i tion which have the Budd All-Steel Body. The riders in these cars enjoy a protec- . q tion against personal injury which no . other motorists have. This protection is of paramount importance to every one of them. It is of paramount importance to j you, as a motorist. Therefore, when you are inspecting new cars with the thought of purchase, let your first question be, “Has it the Budd All-Steel Body?” Accept no evasive answer. Make sure on this point. You owe it to yourself, and to the dear ones who ride with you, to do this. All cars havea metal surface. For this reason, many motorists i! believe they have the protection of All-Steel construction, when actually they may have a composite body. Let us explain the difference. 7 The composite body is built of a framework of wood, with a ri i) surface of metal. Ni The All-Steel Body is constructed of steel throughout—a \" framework of steel and a covering of steel, electrically welded H} | into a single, sturdy unit. 1 Noold-style, bulky cornerposts obscure your view of the road. } Budd cornerposts are steel—narrow and strong. You can clearly - see every pedestrian. And every approaching car. The Budd Body is graceful. For steel is pliable. It can be wrought to lines and curves of matchless beauty. And steel, which gives such protection, such beauty, also gives to the Budd Body its long life and resistance to depreciation. If you wish the protection of All-Steel for yourself, your fam- ily—if you wish its beauty, its long life . . . be sure, when you buy your next car, that it has a body with a frame of steel, as well as a surface of steel. Be sure it is the All-Steel, Full-Vision Body, by Budd. EDWARD G. BUDD MANUFACTURING COMPANY ; _ Philadelphia f ! Detroit } { \, Fins J 24~s | | ’ FULL-VISION MOTOR CAR BODIES

Page 67

{ it ! | (Continued from Page 62) “T saw dots to the southward,” said Paterson. ‘‘ Maybe they’ll be in later.”’ “No, little Rollo,’”’ said Phelps-Barring- ton. ‘They won’t be in later or ever. I saw it with my own eyes— both in flames. I thought it was you, and until Trent landed, I thought he might be Mac. But I was wrong. Let’s shut up and have a drink!” Then suddenly he knew, and his mind froze with the ghastliness of the thought. If he’d been quicker—if he’d turned and climbed above Yardley when he saw him lagging, with the smoke squirting from his hit motor—he could have saved him. If he had kept his eyes open behind, instead of dreaming, he might have saved MacClin- tock too. In a daze, he stumbled after Phelps-Barrington. That’s why Trent had hurled his helmet to the ground and walked off. That’s why Hoyt had shrugged and said, ‘“‘Those things will happen.”’ It was his fault—his—Paterson’s. He'd bolted and lost his head and fired blindly into the empty air. He hadn’t stuck to his man. He had let Yardley drop back alone to be murdered. *‘Look here, P-B,”’ he muttered, “‘I’m not drinking.”” He wanted to be alone—to think. So quick it had all been. Phelps-Barrington grabbed his arm and pushed him stumbling into the mess shack. Trent was slumped down af the table with his glass before him, thumbing over a newspaper. He raised his head as they came in. ‘‘Twomore of the same, steward— double.”’ They sat down beside him and Phelps- Barrington reached for a section of the paper. “It says here,’”’ said Trent, “that Eva Fay didn’t commit suicide. Died of an overdose of hashish she took at a party in Maida Vale the night before.” The steward brought the glasses. Trent raised his and looked at Paterson. ‘‘Good work, son.” Paterson stared at him in amazement. Trent sipped his whisky and went on read- ing as if he had never stopped. Some time later, Paterson left them and went down to the flight office to find Hoyt. The thought of the morning still bothered him in spite of Trent’s words, and he wanted to clear it up. Hoyt smiled as he came in. ‘“‘ Washed the taste out in Falernian?’’ he asked. “Some. Look here, skipper—this morn- ing—what about it?” “‘What about it?” ‘““My part—I was fast asleep. I saw Yardley lagging and I had a moment to cross over above him, but I lost my head, I’m afraid, and went wild.” The smile faded and Hoyt laid down his pencil. ‘Do you really think you could have saved him?’’ ‘‘He was behind me already when I saw him lagging, just as you climbed and P-B dived.” “Then you couldn’t have helped him, because Mac was done for when I saw him and climbed, and half a tick after I climbed, P-B saw Yardley burst into flames. There you are.” ‘But if I’d kept my eyes back, instead of trusting to Mac?” “*Look here,” said Hoyt, ‘‘no man can keep his eyes on everything. Something always happens in the place he isn’t look- ing. Bear that in mind and forget this morning. You've seen a dog fight from the inside and lived. Take it easy. You're not here to do everything. You're here to stick tous. You might have run away. Remem- ber that and be afraid of it. Remember if you get away by leaving a pal—he may live to come back. Then you'll have to face him, and engine trouble is a poor excuse. “Trouble with you youngsters is that you’ve been fed up on poobah. And the myth of the fearless air fighter. Put it out of your mind. There’s no such thing. Some are less afraid than others. Some are drunker—take your choice. Class dis- missed."’ Hoyt grinned. ‘‘Go get cleaned up. We'll jog into Amiens for tiffin Tender in half an hour. Tell Trent and P-B.” THE SATURDAY They spent most of the afternoon at Charlie’s Bar with some of the men from the artillery observation squadron. For dinner they went to the Du Rhin and the glasses flowed red. Afterward, in an- other place, there was a fight, as usual, and chairs crashed like match sticks, until whistles sounded outside and the A. P. M.'s car, siren screaming, raced up the street. They poured out into the alleyway and ran, leaving the waiter praying in high, shrieking French. Trent had a bottle with him. They rode all the way home singing and shouting to high heaven, forgetting that there were two empty chairs in the mess and that there might be more tomorrow: Take the cylinders out of my kidneys, Take the scutcheon pins out of my brain, Take the cam box from under my backbone And assemble the engine again! They were good fellows—Billy Hoyt, P-B, Pat and Ray Trent. Have ‘nother li'l’ drink. They roared along like a Juggernaut, with the exhaust splitting the night air. Sometimes they were on the road and sometimes they were off. No one cared so long as they kept hurtling into the dark- ness. Phelps-Barrington was fast asleep. Pat woke him up at the airdrome and tumbled him into the hut. They stumbled over a kit bag in the door- way. P-B straightened up suddenly. **Good-by, Mac, old lad, sleep tight.” Trent kicked the bag out of the way. “Damned adjutant! Take P-B in with you, Pat. I’m bunking with the skipper. Might have the decency to take Mac's kit over to squadron office and not leave it ly- ing around the passage. 'Night.”’ Paterson was quite sober. He tumbled P-B into bed and stood for a moment at the open window, staring out across the ground mist that billowed knee high in the faint night breeze. He rested his elbows on the sill and hid his face in his trembling hands. If he could only be like the others casual—calloused. If he had less imagina- tion —-more sand — stamina — something. MacClintock had planned this night him- self, at breakfast. Yardley had left a let- ter addressed and stamped on his window sill. Paterson’s mind jumped miles to the eastward. He saw the two blackened en- gines lying somewhere in the bleak fields beyond, plowed into the ground, with their mats of twisted wires coiled around them in a hideous trap. Their families would get word tomorrow. “Missing,”’ it would read. And then later: “Previously reported missing, now re- ported killed in action.’”” And tomorrow perhaps his own family. Why can’t it be quick? There was a noise behind him. Someone fumbling at the door latch—Hoyt. ‘‘Had this bit left. Bottoms up! Quick!” He took the glass and drained it. The liquor bit into his veins and burned him. Hoyt set his own glass down on the washstand with asharp click. ‘‘Get into bed now, you idiot. Good night.” Spiked drink. Hoyt was a good fellow damned decent. Do anything for Hoyt. Never let Hoyt go. Like my brother — be- fore the war. Good old Hoyt. And he sank suddenly into a dreamless fuddle of sleep. The weeks crawled on slowly. Paterson felt like a man climbing a steep ladder. Each day was a rung behind him. Each new rung showed an infinite number still ahead, waiting for him to go on, luring him with their apparent safety, waiting for him to reach the one rotten rung that would do him in. Some day he would reach it, and it would crack under him, or his fingers would slip and hurtle him into the abyss under his charred engine. Offensive patrols and escort for the artil- lery observation squadron filled their time, with sometimes a road strafe to vary the monotony. These he liked best, for some quaint reason— perhaps because there was EVENING POST less space to fall through. Sometimes there would be a battalion on those roads—a battalion to scatter and knock down like Quite im- They were never men to Pater- tin soldiers on a nursery floor. personal son. Like dolls they ran and like dolls they sprawled awkwardly where they fell P-B and Trent and Hoyt carried him through somehow. Mallory was back again, but Mallory never counted much with him. P-B and Trent and Hoyt were a bulwark. They meant safety. It was good to wake up at night and hear P-B snoring on the other cot, to know that Hoyt and Trent were asleep in the next cubicle. It was good to see them stamping to keep warm before the patrol took off in the half light of early morning. So different from one another and yet so alike under- neath. Hoyt was nearer his kind than the two others. Tall and spindly like his brother, with a straight, thin nose that quivered slightly at the nostril when he was annoyed. Hoyt, who smiled and sanc- tioned the childish depravity of little P-B, but never quite met it with his own, al- though always seeming to, on the night trips to Amiens. Trent, glowering and quiet, with a keen hatred for everything political that he learned in the offices of the London and South Western before the war, when the army to him had meant young wastrels swanking the Guards’ livery in the boxes of theaters—wastrels who had died on the Charleroi Road three years before. Suddenly, from one of his mother’s let- ters, he found that he had been in France almost three months. He stiffened with the thought and remembered what Hoyt had told him that day he had come: “I’ve been here three months. When I came, I came just as you did today—pucka green.”’ He knew then that all his hopes were false. He was the same today as he had been that first day. He would always be the same. The spot of fear would always be with him. Some day it would swell and choke him and his hands would function without his frozen brain. He should never have tried to fly. He should have gone into the infantry as his brother had. Too much imagination too little something. In three months he had learned the ropes, that was all; how to fire and when to fire, where the Archie bat- teries were near Cambrai, how to ride a cloud and crawl into it—nothing more. The weeks went on, creeping closer and closer to the twenty-first of March—the twenty-first of March—and with them the feeling crept into Paterson’s heart—a feel- ing that something frightful was to happen. Things had been quiet so long and casual- ties had been few. C Flight hadn’t been touched in weeks. He brooded over the thought and slept badly. He went to Amiens with P-B more frequently. If it was to be any of the three, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it. His bulwark would crumble and break and he would break with it. On the dawn patrols, those few minutes before they climbed into the cockpits and took off were agony: “This will be the day. It must be today. We can’t goon this way. Our luck will break.” One day when they were escorting 119, four dots dived on them from behind and he knew suddenly what he would do Stark, logically, the thing stood before him and beckoned through the wires of | ter section. If a shot hit his plane, he would go down. They were far over the lines, taking 119 on a bombing show. He would wabble down slow!y, pushing his joy stick from side to side in a slow ellipse as if he were out of control. Then he would land and run his nose into the ground and be taken prisoner. The others would see is cen- him and swear that he'd been hit—and he wouldn't do it until his machine had been hit. That for his own conscience’s sake and for the years he would have to live after- wards. But A Flight, behind and far above, saw the dots and scattered them a1 was gone. Then day by day he waited for another. He knew now that he would do it at the first opportunity. Hes!ept better with the 1d the chance thought, and the minutes seemed shorter now while he waited at dawn for his bust berun out. All the details were w ‘ it in his mind. If any one of the thre« close to him, he'd throw wildly before he started down. T! that and report it. Then when he lar he’d pull out the flare quick and burr machine so that they would think he crashed and caught fire. It was so easy He spe nt less time w P-B now some- how the old freedom was gone. Somehow Hoyt wasn’t the same to him either. He was working with three strangers he had never really known —three casual strangers he would leave shortly and never see again On the morning of the fourteenth of March the caller turned C Flight cut sud- denly, without warning, about an hour after P-B and Trent had returned from Amiens. A special signal had come in B Flight had the but there was to from wing headquarters reguiar morning pat be an additional offensive patrel besides A Flight had morning escort and the dusk patrol. That meant C for the special. Pat- erson could hear Hoyt swearing about it next door. P-B, across the room, uttered a mighty curse and rolled over. Paterson got him a bucket of cold water and doused his Trent and Hoyt were in the next cubicle feverish head in it still cursing pettis! Sleep-stupid, the four of them stumbled into the mess for hard-boiled eggs and coffee. Ma Lory and the new man, Crowe, were already eating, white-faced and un- shaven. They slumped down beside them » tl ey trooped across the dark rome, buttoning their coats and fasten- ing helmet straps against the cold wretc! edness of the March wind. The machines were waiting for them in a ghostly line like staring wasps that had eaten the food of the gods and grown to gigantic size They climbed in and taxied out mechan- ically. B Flight had already left on t'« regular dawn patrol. They blipped their motors and roared away, leaving their echo and the sharp smell of castor oil behind on the empty 'd Hoyt led them south to the crumpled ruins of Péronne and out to the line, climb ing high to get the warmth of the sunlight that began to tint the clouds above them. They were going over to Le Cateau and be- yond. Intelligence wanted pictures to con- firm certain reports of new Hun shell dumps and battery concentration. The _ photo- graphic planes were to go out and get them under escort as soon as there was enoug! light. As additional precaution, offensive patrols were to be kept up far over the ome enemy's lines to insure the success of the pictures. They passed the sullen black stain that was Le CAatelet and turned to the eastward. The ground was already light and the camera busses would be starting. Hoyt took the roof at eighteen thousand feet and skirted the cloud wisps, watching below for customers. Paterson watched P-B anxiously. He had been roaring drunk an hour before. Groggy and drunk still probably. He closed in a trifle and climbed above him, but P-B waved him down and wiggled his fingers f?om the end of his nose He looked ahead and down at Trent Trent had been drunk too, but he was steady now, sawing wood above and slightly behind Hoyt. Then suddenly, beyond Trent and far be- low, he saw a Hun two-seater alone. The Hoyt shifted and pulled up his nose to climb above it and wait Trent fol- old stunt lowed him up. Somewhere above that two seater, and a half mile behind, there would be a flight of Hun scouts skulking under the } t t eon whoever dived cleuds, waiting to poun for the two-seater Hoyt knew it for a decoy. Paterson knew it. They would climb above the cloud edge, circle back and catch the Hun scouts as they passed under- neatn Paterson trembled slightly. This was his chance at last. There’d be a long dive and a sure fight from behind, and in the mix-up he’d wabble down and out of the war via Continued on Page 69

Page 68

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 TS So a _ paar ms cp a oo Nae Res eS |/FISHE “In finish and execution of detail— no less than in their basic ruggedness—Chevrolet-Fisher closed bodies represent the highest type of craftsmanship and skill.” ~ =

Page 69

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

jer Economical Transportation i Chevrolet Closed Bodies by Fisher Dt f The World Provides no Finer! SGhS ie i % >a LM ; ’ water 4 ( On the lower right-hand side of every Chevrolet closed bodies represent the yf it " Chevrolet closed model, where the hood _ highest type of craftsmanship and skill pete } : Pa . "ie ih) | and body meet, there is an unobtrusive Lustrous Duco in modish colors assures VP o> oe AY ( 7. ms Pea - emblem Body by Fisher. the permanence of Chevrolet's external wy Ay « . i You may not see it as the cars go flash- beauty. Upholstery, trim, cushioning, Odessa" } ing by But hundreds ot thousands ot hardware and appointments all con- | : ps 4% 4 \ owners are enjoying greater satisfaction tribute to the unchallenged value that : sa . + = | prices, there is not the slightest com- power and high speed comfort that to Rag i promise in the design, construction or — day's Chevrolet introduces into the low Be ; finish of Chevrolet-Fisher bodies. All price field! ym - 4 embody exactly the principles cm- But betore you begin to drive spend 74 / ployed on the highest priced cars—a a few moments studying the Fisher bod) { composite construction Oo! sclected hard on your favorite closed model And you wood and stcel will quickly discover that it provides i In finish and execution of detail—no — elements of beauty, comfort and luxury less than in their basic ruggedness obtained in no other car at so low a price

Touring *510, Roadster *510, Coupe °645, Coach °645, Sedan *735, Landau *765, '5-Ton *375 and 1-Ton Truck, *495 (Chassis only 1// pra fo. b. Flint, Machigan

CHEVROLET MOTOR COMPANY, DETROIT, MICHIGAN, D ( ral Motor QUALITY AT LOW COS T

Page 70

68 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A THOUSAND THINGS MAY HAPPEN November 6, 1926 IN THE DARK “The baby’s crying! - use your Eveready / THat plaintive wail in the dark of night that every mother knows so well... use your Eveready! Here is the ideal light for bedroom and nursery. There is no disturbing glare in its soft, reflected rays. The Eveready Flashlight is as silent in action as a moonbeam. It puts the light exactly where you need it. Itishandy. It is safe. It is thor- oughly dependable. Every home needs one or more Evereadys. They should be kept hanging in a regular place, ready for instant use in any emergency. Eveready Flashlights have hun- dreds of uses in and around the house, the car, the garage. Wher- ever you need bright, unfailing light —day or night—use an Eveready Flashlight. You cannot buy a better Hashlight prove al makes of flashlights. They insure bri x ier a and longer Dili e? f Keep an extra set on hand. E pr i tally te igned ki: ere va an Lamps, the V} 1ghl eve j than Eveready. Only Eveready has the convenient ring-hanger. ‘To get all the newest and best Hashlight features, Insist on a genuine Ever- eady. There’s a type for every purpose and purse, andan Eveready dealer nearby. Vanufactured and guaranteed NATIONAL C ARBON COMPANY, Inc. New York San Francisco » BATTERIES ————

Page 71

(Continued from Page 65 Lazaret VI in Cologne. He glanced around to see if Mallory was above him, and sud- denly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw P-B shove his nose full down and throw himself into a straight dive for the decoy bus. He gazed and shouted “‘No!”’ into the roar of his engine. P-B, in a nasty temper and half fuddled, didn’t smell the trick. There was one awful second, while Crowe closed up into P-B’s place and Hoyt banked to wait above, for the Hun scouts to pounce down on the Camel. P-B fired, pulled up and dived again, far below them. The Hun two-seater banked sharply and came up and over in an Immel- mann turn to get away. P-B caught it halfway over and a trickle of smoke swept out from its engine. Then in an instant Hoyt dived, with the rest of C Flight after him. The next thing Paterson knew there were two Huns on his tail and a stream of tracer bullets pecking at his left wing. He pulled back on his stick and zoomed head- long up under Mallory. So close he was for a second that he could see the wheels turning slowly on Mallory’s undercarriage and almost count the spokes glinting in the sunlight where the inside canvas sheathing had been taken off. Mallory pulled away from him in a quick climbing turn and the Huns passed underneath, banking right and left. Pat- erson picked the left-hand one, thundered down on him in a short dive and let go a burst of ten shots into the pilot’s back. He saw the pilot’s head snap sideways and his gloved hands fly up from the controls. Then Mallory dived over him after the other one. He turned in a wild split-air and followed Mallory. There were more Huns below him and te the left, with two of the C Flight Camels diving and bucking between them. He raced furiously into a long dive, picked the nearest and opened fire again in short, hammering bursts. His Hun wabbled and started down awkwardly in long sweeps. He picked another, still farther below, and pushed his stick forward until the rush of air gagged him. Wildly he fired as he plowed down on it, and the chatter of his guns stabbed through the roar of his engine. He yelled like a madman, shot under the Hun, pulled up sharply and fired into its gray mud-streaked belly. There was a fan of scarlet flame and a shock that tossed him to one side. He stalled and whipped out into a spin. Far below him he could see the decoy two-seater trailing a long plume of reddish smoke and flopping, wings over, toward the floor. Then suddenly he saw his chance to wabble down and get away. He ruddered out of the spin and ran his stick once through the slow ellipse he had planned. But somehow he had to force himself to do it. There wasn’t the relief he had ex- pected. He looked back. Three C-Flight machines were still above him, fighting madly -P-B, Trent end Hoyt. No~-not this time. He pulled his stick back and climbed up. There were five Huns circling the Camels. It was a long shot, but he fired at the nearest and came up under the tail just as one of the Camels hurtled into a nose dive, twisted over and snapped off both wings. He saw the pilot’s arms raised wildly in the cockpit and no more. Blood streamed into his mouth. He had torn his lips with his teeth in the excite- ment. The warm salty tang mounted to his brain. His goggles were sweat-fogged. His fingers ached with their pressure on the y stick and his arm was numb to the In aspasm of blind hatred, he fired. Tracers raced across his top plane and truck with little smoke puffs that ripped the fabric into ribbons. His own bullets clawed at the Hun above him and fanged elbow. home He threw himself up and over in an Immelmann turn and came under the next, still firing. He let go his stick and jerked his Lewis gun down its sliding mount on his top plane. It fired twice and jammed

THE SATURDAY He yanked maaly at the cocking lug, but it stuck halfway. He hurtled down again in another spin a quick are that ended in clouds and more Hun busses. He caught at his thrashing Again the ground flashed through his center section struts in a brown smudge with the blaze of the sun hanging to one end of it. him and a Camel below him. He closed in The ground swept around in joy stick Then there was a Camel above on the one below and squinted at the markings. Hoyt. He looked up at the other Camel, of its fuselage were hidden with a torn flap of fabric. Together, the three turned west- ward and started back Presently, near the line the bus above him wabbled and dipped its nose He stared at it. It went into a long, even glide that grew watched. He looked down for Huns There were none. The glide became a dive, the dive twisted into an aimless spin, like the flopping of a lazy swimmer turning over in shallow water. The spin flattened and the Camel whipped out upside down, stalled, snapped out again and again spun downward in that ghastly slow way. Over and over, only to whip out, stall and spin again. It was miles below him now. Noth- ing todo. Fascinated, he watched it as he followed Hoyt’s tail. It was a mere dot now, flashing once or twice in the sun as it but the numerals on the side slowly steeper as he flopped over and over. Close to the groun i now —closer. Then suddenly a tiny sheet of pink flame leaped up like the flash of a far beacon. That was all. Hoyt was side-slipping below him, and he saw his own airdrome under the leading edge of his bottom wing. He followed Hoyt down. They landed together and taxied slowly in toward the hangars. They stopped side by side and climbed out stiff- legged. Paterson looked down and saw that his right flying boot was torn and flayed into shreds across the outer side There was a jagged fringe on the skirt of his coat where the leather had been ripped into ruffles. Dumbly, he looked back into his cockpit. The floor boards were splin- tered and the wicker arm of his seat was eaten away. He shrugged and walked over toward Hoyt. There was blood on the rab- bit fur of Hoyt’s goggles, blood that oozed slowly down and dripped from his chin piece in bright drops. “Cigarette?” Paterson gave him one. They walked into the flight office and slumped into chairs. Hoyt ripped off his helmet and dabbed at the scratch on his cheek. “I’m glad you got out, Pat,” he said absently Then the fear spot broke and spattered into the four corners of Paterson’s soul. He sprang up trembling, with his fists beating the air. “The dirty lice!’ "hescreamed. ‘‘ They've killed P-B! They've killed Trent! D’y hear me, Hoyt? they've killed ’em! They're gone! They'll never come back! They've de Hoyt's voice cameevenly, calmly, through his screaming. ‘“‘Steady, boy! Steady! You can’t help it. No one can. Steady now!” A mat of white oil-splotched faces stared at them from the open doorway that led into the hangar. The boy turned wildly “Clear out!”’ he shrieked. They vanished, open-mouthed. Hoyt drew him down into a chair. “‘No, Hoyt, no! Can’t you see? P-B and you and Trent have meant every- thing to me. I can’t go on. I've fought this thing till I’m crazy.” Hoyt quickly and slammed the door. “I've fought it night and day!’’ He threw up his arms hopelessly and covered his face with his shaking hands. Hoyt put his hand on his trembling shoulders and patted them “Steady, now! Steady! None of that!” he said reached awkwardly Paterson's head whipped down across his sprawled arms on the desk top and the sobs tore at his throat in great gusts that choked him “Oh, God!” he sobbed ‘What's it all about, Hoyt? What’s the 9 use of it?

EVENING POST

“Steady, son! knows. It just I don’t know. Nobody happened, as everything happens. It’s much too late to talk causes We're here and we know what we have do. T anyway, so it must be enough.”’ He took at's enough for us. It's all we have his blood-soaked cigarette from his mout} and hurled it into a corner. It landed with a soft spat Someone knocked at the door. ‘“‘Come in.” It was the runner from squadron office He saluted. “‘ Yes?” said Ho ed at Paterson's face and snapped his eyes quickly back to the cap- The man gl

tain’s **Beg pardon, sir,”” he said. ‘“‘Squadron’s wing. One of the C Flight machines came down near B Jattery, the 212th.” ““Who was it?” asked Hoyt ‘Lieutenant Mallard, they reported it, sir. That'll be Lieutenant Mallory, sir won't it?” ‘Yes.”” Hoyt’s voice was quite flat. just been signaled throug} “Thank you.” The man saluted again and shut the door. Hoyt dabbed at his cheek and reached into his desk drawer for another cigarette. Pat- erson stood up suddenly and grabbed his arm. “Listen, skipper!’’ Hoyt’s eyes met his calmly ‘I’m going to tell you some- thing I'll feel better if I do I've been a weak sister in this flight. I’ve planned for days to go down and let myself be taken to get out of it all I've been sick of it—sick of it, d’y hear, until I couldn't think straight. I wanted to get out alive. I wanted to get away in any way I could. This morning I broke. started down Hoyt smiled. “‘Your trouble, Pat, is that you think you're the only person in this jolly old war.” Paterson stared at him. “But I did! I started down, out of it, this morning!’ “How'd you get here?” asked Hoyt “But if I hadn't broken for that moment this morning , ‘That's a lie!” s1 talking poobah! happen. If P-B hadn't gone down after the two-seater they'd all be here now; and by the same reasoning, if my aunt wore trous- ers she’d be my uncle. The important thing is that it’s you and prisoner I let go and 1apped Hoyt. “‘ You're I know how those things i me now and noth- ing else matters. We'll have four brand- new men to whip into shape tomorrow, and whatever you think of yourself, you've got to do it. I can’t do much, for I'll be ahead, leading. You'll be were them and you'll have to do it all. The y’ ll be frightened and nervous and green, but the job’s to be done. Understand? You've got to goad them on and get them out of trouble and watch them every minute, so that in time they'll be as good as P-B and Trent—so that when their turn comes they can do, for other green men, what P-B and Trent did for you. Do you see now what this morning has done for you?”’ He paused for a mo- ment, and then, in a lower tone —‘‘ Afraid? Who isn't afraid? But it doesn’t do any “ to brood over it.” Flight did no duty the next day, nor tion day following. Hoyt went up to the 212th and identified Mallory for burial, while Paterson flew back to the Pool for the replacement pilots and a new Camel for Hoyt. In Amiens he heard the first whispered rumors of what was going to happen. Intelligence was ranting for information. Everybody had the story and nobody was right. The hospitals were evacuating as fast as possible. Fres being hustled up. It wasn’t a push. could tell that with half an eye. thing the Hun was doing. The spring offen- sive a month earlier this year. G. H. Q. was plugging the gaps frantically, replac- ing and reénforcing and wondering where h battalions were Anyone Some-

} the hammer would fall and what it would carry with it. Hence the pictures that had cost the lives of P-B and Trent. The air itself trembled with uncertainty and rumors flew fast and thick Paterson flew back with the four new pilots and brought the rumors with him

69 Professor Jenks remembers what he forgot to buy:

al 6 PTING to buy X"" Liquid when the very first drip hasw arned you nvariably leads to the licament of Professor Jenks. It isn’t too late for a os iquid ever if he Aad it Sut it too late for that precious and im portaft lecture ot his kvery mororist KNOWS ee | ; | guid Mil ons have used it to cure | iking radiators permanent Sutthe wiser motorist hasacan of *'N in the tool Att or the front door pocket handy for instant use and quick repair of leaks that come so often without w arning : ‘ 5 ( “Qe 7 th \ } } it ~<4 ih » We i , 4 “s ¢ a Laboratories 25 W. 45th Se New York Factortes Boston Toronto

Page 72

~] oO THE SATURDAY + | Tackling a tough pipe is now great sport! {7 A Yes sir! It’s the greatest of all American sports. . . the popular pastime of all red- blooded and blueblooded Americans. and if you'll just paste this dope in the top of your old headgear, you'll score a victory over any pipe you tackle: Try out all the tobaccos you can find against old Pipe, but once Granger Rough Cut gets a chance you'll yank the yannigans and keep Granger in there, forever! For there’s no substitute for Granger. And the tougher they are the harder they fall for it. . . For Granger hits a pipe just right. It’s a winning combination of the choicest varieties of Burley tobaccos. . . conditioned by the nationally famous ‘Wellman Method.” It’s the sweetest tobacco you ever saw in action. . . a star performer, always! Then, because it’s rough cut, Granger is cooler under fire. . . it’s the coolest, smooth- est going tobacco that ever went into a pipe-bowl. And year after year the expert authorities pick Grangerasthe All-American pipe tobacco! GRANGER Rough Cut EVENING POST Hoyt had more to barter in exchange. The talk ran riot at dinner. “It's a Hun push, all right, but where, nobody knows. We'll have word in a day | or so, but it'll be wrong whatever it is, | mark what I say! ” And then on the evening of the twentieth | things started. A signal came for the major | just as they sat down to mess. He went out and presently called out the three flight | commanders. When they came back they took their places thoughtfully. Silence trembled in the room like the hush that precedes the first blasting stroke of a great bell in a cathedral tower. The major swept his eyes down the board. “You will remain at the airdrome to- night, gentlemen, and remain sober. Offi- cers’ luggage is to be packed and placed on lorries which Mr. Harbord is providing for that purpose.’”” He paused for a moment. “This is a precautionary move, gentlemen. We are to be ready to retire at a moment’s notice. Flight commanders have the map squares of the new airdrome. You can take that up later among yourselves.”’ He leaned back in his chair and beckoned to the mess sergeant. ‘‘Take every officer’s order, sergeant, and bring me the chit.” The talk broke in a wild flood that roared and crackled down the length of the table. The tin walls trembled with the surge of it and the echoes broke in hot discord among the rough pine rafters. Offensive patrols for all three flights, to start at five minutes to four A.M. Air domination must be main- tained. Wing’s instructions were to stop | everything at all costs. Go out and fight | and shut up. Somebody presented the ad- jutant with the sugar bowl and asked him if he had his umbrella for the trip back. The adjutant had spent eighteen days without soles to his boots in 1914. He and the medi- cal officer stood drinks for the squadron. About ten o’clock, Hoyt called the five men of C Flight into his hut. ‘Tomorrow, something is going to happen, I’m afraid, and you've got to meet it without much experience. What I want you to under- stand is simply this: You’ve got Pat and you've got me. Follow us and do what we do. We won't let you down so far as it is humanly possible. If the flight gets split up in a dog fight, then fight your way out two and two-—and go back to the new ‘drome two and two. Don’t go separately. Further’’—he paused—‘“‘if anything hap- pens to me’’— Paterson looked up at him quickly and something tugged sharply at his heart; Hoyt went on quietly —‘‘take your lead from Mr. Paterson. You'll be Number 5, Darlington. You'll climb up as deputy leader. And if anything happens to Pat, then it’s up to you to bring the rest home.”’ He smiled. ‘There is a bottle of Dewar’s in this drawer. Take a snifter now, if you want it, and one in the morning. It’s for C Flight only. Oh, yes, one more thing: The fact that we're moving back to a new airdrome seems to indicate that staff thinks nothing can stop the Hun from breaking through. The fact that nothing can stop the Hun seems to indicate that, for the nonce, we are losing our part of the war. If the thought will help you--it’'s yours without cost.”’ The caller rapped sharply and threw back the door. Paterson leaped to his feet half asleep and pushed back the window curtains. The clouds were down to about four hundred feet, lowering in a gray mass | over the mist on the airdrome. He went into the next cubicle and turned Hoyt out. | Hoyt sat up on the cot edge and ran his hand across his forehead. November 6, 1926 took the watch for C. He turned up his coat collar and went out. It was cold and miserable in the open and the chill crept into his bones. The smoke from his ciga rette hung low zbout him in the still air. Presently to the eastward there came a low roar. He iooked at his wrist watch The hands pointed to six minutes before four o’clock. The ground trembled slightly to the sound of the distant guns and the air stirred in faint gusts that pulled at the blue wraiths of his cigarette smoke. The push had started. His muscles stiffened at the knees as he listened. The first shock of the guns was raw and sharp in the quiet air; then it settled into a lower, full-throated rumble like the heavy notes of an organ growling in an underground basilica. Now it rose again in its greater volume— rose steadily, slowly, as if it were a colossal express train hammering down the switch points at un- thinkable speed. Presently it soared to its highest pitch and held the blasting monot- ony of its tone. The minutes ticked off, but the guns never faltered in their symphony of blood. At 4:35 one pipe of the organ to the southeastward cut out suddenly and almost immediately began again, closer than before. Again it broke, as he listened, and crept nearer still. He walked down the line of huts, thrash- ing his arms and blowing on his cold hands. An impersonal thing to him, yet he shiv- ered slightly and stared upward at the low clouds. Men out there to the eastward were in it. The suspense was over for them. And suddenly he found himself annoyed at the delay, annoyed at the fog and clouds above, that kept him on the ground. He wanted to see what was going on—-to know. He turned impatiently and went into the mess. The sergeant brought him coffee and presently Muirhead of A Flight came in with Church of B. “It’s on,’’ Church said absently. “I suppose this fog means hell up the line.”’ They drank their coffee and smoked in silence. The sound of the guns crept nearer and nearer, and one by one the rest of the squadron drifted in for breakfast. Hoyt sat down next to Paterson. “I don’t like it,” he said. ‘‘Something is giv- ing way up there.’” He went to the window and looked out. ‘‘Clouds are higher,’ he said, ‘‘and the fog’s lifted a bit. What do you think, major?” They crowded out of the mess doorway and stood in an anxious knot, staring up- ward. It was well after six o’clock. ‘** All right’’—the major turned around “get ready to stand by.” C Flight collected in a little knot in front of Hoyt’s Camel, smoking and _ talking nervously. Paterson kept his eyes or Hoyt and stamped his feet to get the circulation up. A strange elation crept into his veins and warmed him. In a moment now-—-in a moment. Awkward waiting here. Awk- ward standing around listening to Darling- ton curse softly and pound his hands together. Somewhere behind him on the road, a motor bike roared through the mist, and then to the southward a shell crashed not a thousand yards from the ‘drome, and the echo of it thumped off across the fields Darlington jumped and stared at the mushroom of greasy black smoke. A mo- ment more—a moment now. Paterson reached over and tapped Darlington’s sleeve. ‘‘ Keep your guns warm, old boy.” Darlington nodded fiercely. The major climbed into his cockpit and a mechanic leaped to the propeller. The engine coughed once and the propeller snapped back. The mechanic leaped at it “Stop the caller,’’ he said. ‘‘Let’s see again. It spun down and melted into a what's what before we turn everybody out.” circle of pale light. Everyone was climbing They shrugged into their flying coats and in. Hoyt flicked his cigarette away sharply groped down the passage to the major’s§ and put a leg up into his stirrup. Made cubicle in the next hut block. They were taxi-ing out into the open ‘Let ‘em sleep,” said the major. “‘Can't ground, with the mechanics running after do anything in this muck. Turn out one them. Presently they could see the road. officer in each flight to watch for the break Paterson stared at it in amazement. It and to warn the rest. Send Harbord tome was brown and crawling with lorries and if you see him wandering about.” troops. Something had happened! A They woke up the skippers of A and B_ Flight, with the major, sang off across the Flights and told them the news. Paterson 4 , M f f ’] i / al / f ’ ” A : i Y f a i A , A , ‘ ) h for pipes only! rer Rough Cut is made } 22 2 y r (Continued on Page 72) = en = = ———————————————— ——

Page 73

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST = 1h = 4,

ye Li ively Studebaker; bumpers, front E quipment N thermometer an s« ¢ gauge x Sak y nay ioe <i WG he a steering whe STUDEBAKER BIG SIX $1 i CUSTOM BROUGHAM Other Bie Six Models: ¢ t t $148 Dup! Road hen: a PS ) 1 ey Coase Si 520. So! 29 au c i = SSO835 — 7 | ADIN ina Roadster (4-P Phact Br A ‘ = NY 5: = 164104 447 031 tere — STITT Tye

Ad Ads ey MEL ALLA SRS iin

WU bbaedalrl datine

v as 31! y — cS Nwe a eetah lintdgetiemeneithesinaie peUreiUlousseeseue elelluuussunss Ah hal al Lei |

Page 74

CLIPSE BENDIX DRIVE, Electric starting made the ‘‘gas’’ car a WOMAN'S car. She knows that her car will start eastly and surely because it is equipped with the Ect.pse Bendix Drive. Most cars are. Your new one Sf uld be. f re greater ease and certainty of start- ing afforded by the Eclipse Bendix Drive are appreciated by motorists ev- erywhere —and especially by women. Eclipse starter-drives, in their several variations, are simple, sturdy and effec- tive-——_insure maximum dependability, convenience and ease in starting any gas engine. Throughout the world, “Eclipse at Elmira” is known as an authority on starter-drives, and. its products accepted as standard. | | “The Mechanical Hand That Cranks Your Car” | | i | The Eclipse Bendix Drive is standard equipment on a large majority of | \ the world’s automobiles—and is the form you probably know best of the \ \ Eclipse products used in starting gasoline engines. It is the automatic con- / necting link between your electric starting motor and the engine of your / automobile—a “mechanical hand” that takes hold of the fly-wheel, cranks /}f Y \ it, and then lets go. Eclipse also starts— Y Fire Apparatus yf Ambulances Ps Taxicabs : XS Gasoline Rail Cars Ay NN Gasoline Locomotives , “a SO) and all kinds of prime movers \ Trucks Motor Boats N " Buses Coast Guard Vessels XO, Tractors Cruisers — —_ SS = oo ai — ECLIPSE MACHINE COMPANY, Elmira, N.Y. Eclipse Machine Company, Hoboken, N.J. Eclipse Machine Company, Ltd., Walkerville, Ont. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 70) ground and took the air together in a climb- ing turn. B Flight waited a brief second and followed. Out of the corner of his eye, Paterson could see the mess sergeant climb- ing up on the lorry seat beside Harbord, the equipment officer. Then Hoyt waved his hand. Mechanies yanked at the chock ropes and waved them off. They blipped their motors and raced out after Hoyt. At five hundred feet they took the roof in the lacy fringe of the low clouds. Bad, very bad, Paterson thought. He ran his thumb across the glass face of his altimeter and his glove became wet with the beaded moisture. He could hardly see Darling- ton’s tail. Ahead of them the clouds were a trifle higher. Hoyt led them up and turned northward. Murder to cross the line at that height, with the barrage on. Darlington was lagging a bit. Afraid of the clouds. He dived on Darlington’s tail and closed him up on Number 3. Darling- ton glanced back at him and ducked his head. Hoyt was circling back now in a broad sweep. Over there somewhere was Cam- brai. He looked up for an instant just in time to see the underside of a huge plane sweep over him. He ducked at the sight of the black crosses, but the plane was gone before he could whip his Lewis gun into action. Almost immediately one corner of his windshield ripped away and the triplex glass blurred with a quick frosting of a thousand cracks. He cursed into the roar of his motor and kept on. They were higher now, but the visibility was frightful—like flying in a glass ball that had been streaked with thick dripping soap- suds. Here a glimpse and a rift that closed up as soon as you looked; there a blank wall, tapering into tantalizing shreds that you couldn’t quite see beyond. He fidgeted in his cockpit and turned his head from Hoyt, below him, to the gray emptiness behind. Nothing. Presently Hoyt banked around, and fol- lowing him, the compass needle on Pater- son’s instrument board turned through a half circle. They were going back toward the south again and climbing still higher. An even thousand feet now —just under the rising, ragged clouds. He felt a drop of rain strike his cheek where his chin piece ended. It bit his skin like a thorn and stung for seconds afterward. His goggles were fog- ging. He ran a finger up under them and swept the lenses. Then, in a breath, it happened. A gray flash swept down out of the clouds in front of the formation. Hoyt zoomed to avoid it. The Hun zoomed and they came to- gether and melted into each other in a welter of torn, rumpled wings and flying splinters. Something black and kicking rose out and disappeared. The cords stood out in Paterson’s neck and his throat closed. Somewhere his stomach leaped and kicked inside of him, trying to get out, and he saw coffee dripping from the dials of his | instruments. In a second he had thrown his stick for- | ward and gone down into Hoyt’s place. He didn’t dare look—he couldn’t look. He was screaming curses at the top of his voice and the screams caught in his throat in great sobs. His goggles were hopelessly fogged. He ripped them off. Behind him the four new men closed in tightly, with | Darlington above them as deputy leader. | There was blood again on his lips. He pulled back his stick and climbed. There, | somewhere in the clouds, were the men who had done it! All right! All right! His eyes stung and wept with the force of the wind and his cheeks quivered under the lash of the raindrops. With his free hand, fist clenched, he pounded. his knee in stunned } anguish until his muscles ached. Hoyt! Hoyt! Then he saw what he wanted and dived down furiously at the shape in the mist. Bullets tore at his top plane and raked across the cowling behind him. He closed on the Hun and sent it spinning. There was another—three—five— nothing but Huns. He dived in between them. Fine! He was screaming again, and firing. November 6, 1926 He forgot he was flying. The joy stick thrashed crazily between his knees and the ground and the clouds were a muddy gray scarf that swept from side to side across his eyes. Guns were the thing. Once, in a quick flash, he saw tiny men running upside down through the ring sight of his Lewis gun—the gun on his top plane funny. His wrists ached and his fingers were quite dead against the Bowden trigger. No, not that; that’s a Camel— Darlington. He grabbed at his joy stick and pulled it back. Funny how hard it was to pull it. Another Camel swept in beside him, and another, with startling suddenness. It had been a long time now—a long time. Some- body had been afraid once and there had been a man named Hoyt. No, Hoyt was dead. Hoyt had been killed days before. Must have been P-B. P-B was probably in Amiens by now. He'd left in the tender at six o’clock. And always his guns chattered above the roar of his engine. Abruptly, the cross wires of his center section raced up to him from a great dis- tance and stopped just before his eyes. He wondered where they had been all this time. He stared past them into the light disk of his propeller, and again the rain lashed into his face and stung him. He caught at the kicking joy stick and held onto it with both hands—but one hand fell away from it and wouldn’t come back With an effort, he pulled back his stick to climb up under the clouds again. Must be up under the clouds. Must wait and get more Huns. Funny things, Huns. Clumsy, stupid gray things you shot at and sent down. Go home soon, rest a bit and get some more. He laughed softly to himself Joke. Funniest thing in the world. The center section wires clouded up be- fore his eyes and started to race away from him. Here! That’s bad! Can’t fly without center section wires. He chuckled a bit over that. Absurd to think of flying with- out center section wires! Come back here! You come back! Just as his eyes closed, he saw a streak of roadway flicker through the struts of his left wing. There were faces on it quite close to him; faces that were white and staring; faces with arms raised above them Funny. He whipped back his joy stick with a convulsive jerk and then his head crashed forward and he threw up his arm to keep his teeth from being bashed out against the compass. It was very dark —dark except for a danc- ing blue light far away He moved slightly Something cool touched his forehead. ‘‘All right,’ he muttered; ‘that’s all right now. You just follow me.’’ Someone whispered. He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. “No,” he said quite plainly. ‘I mean it! Hoyt’s dead. I saw him go down.” He felt something sharp prick his arm. “You've got the new airdrome pinpointed, haven’t you?” he asked. A soft voice said, ‘‘Yes. Sh-h-h!”’ “No,” he said, “I can’t. Darlington’s alone now and I’ve got to go back. They’re green, but they’re good boys.’’ He moved his legs to get up. ‘“‘There’s a bottle of Dewar’s ai “No,” said the voice beside him “Oh, yes,”’ he said quietly. “Really, this is imperative. I know I crashed.” A stealthy languor crept across his chest and flowed down toward his legs. He thought about it fora moment. ‘I ought to go,” he said pettishly. ‘‘But I’m so tired.” “Yes,”’ said the voice. now.” “Right-o,” he said. ‘‘ You call a tender and wake—me—half —an—hour.”’ He was quiet for a moment more and then he chuckled softly. *‘Tell ’em it’s poobah,”’ he said sharply. “All right,”’ said the voice. ‘“‘It’s poo- bah.” His breathing became quiet and regular and footsteps tiptoed softly down the ward away from his bed. Go to sleep

Page 75

New Nash Attractions 7-bearing crankshaft m —world’s smoothest type— SS ——~* y powers all new Nash model \) ; «ey New-type crankcase “breath- i er” which prevents crank- if case dilution. { Rubber insulated motor sup- ports—(standard Nash prac- tice for some time). New-design motor muffler deepening operative quiet- ness. Motor heat control by new thermostatic water regulator. Oil screen “agitator” prevent- ing oil coagulation in cold- est weather. And many other new im- provements. otor THE SATURDAY EVENING POST JIN AS HH ee eCKemneaorld in Motor Car Value A NEW Instrument Board and Greater Front Compartment Convenience One of the many outstanding advan tages offered by the new Nash models is found in the arrangement and ap- pointments of the front compartment. There is an attractive new instrument board with all instruments compactly assembled in a single panel under glass, indirectly lighted. Included in the grouping is an electric clock, a hydrostatic gas gauge, am- meter, oil gauge, and speedometer. Further forethought for the driver is shown in the way Nash has located the lever control of the new double- beam headlights on the steering wheel at your finger tips. You’ll observe, too, that Nash places the parking brake at the left toward the sidewall, thus giving the ce1 nter of the front compartment greater leg space and foot room as well as adding to the sightliness of this space. This parking brake (ordinarily called an emergency brake) is never needed for emergency use in a Nash because all Nash cars are standard equipped no extra Co st with the most efficient and powertul | 4-wheel brakes knowr to the industry. ed at Se G4t Go see the new Nash een and observe how e xpertly Na has com- bined convenience with rw uty, and how much more comfortable you are in the Nash driving compartment

Page 76

New—and the correct fall toe shape forthe Younger Man and his elder fashion rivals. You find the newest in autumn shoe styles now on display at Walk-Over merchants’. The leading Walk-Over prices, depending upon style and grade, are $7, $8.50, $10, and $12. This style in this grade $10 THE KNOX ustom fit -.. at an unaccustomed cost OU can see the smart new style of this, and every Walk-Over. What you cannot see is the personal fit that makes their style long-lasting. Every Walk- Over is made to fit an individual foot. To that per- sonal fit is added the exclusive pear-shaped heel. That custom fit makes shoes cling at the heel and fit at the top with the aristocratic look that you are accustomed to finding only in made-to-order shoes and those that wear this trade-mark: Wala-Cver. GEO. E. KEITH COMPANY, CAMPELLO, BROCKTON, MASS. J \ I . 1 gage ee by in Some ~ prvald / \ Ar the van ——_ hows how the exclusive Walk-Over pear-shaped } a a . 7. i for men and women |.’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST NINE SLAVES FOR EACH November 6, 1926 CITIZEN (Continued from Page 11) rewritten—knowledge is horse power and kilowatt hours. These are to be the new slaves. It is a grim fact that the highest civilizations have generally rested upon slave labor, but now, for the first time in all history, civilization is to rest upon me- chanical slaves, and there is no limit to the | number mankind may have. In providing these slaves the steam tur- | bine takes precedence over all other me- | chanical devices. It picks up and absorbs mankind’s highest attainments in at least half a dozen major sciences, marshaling them into the vanguard of the new move- ment. The primary function of all power plants is to turn wheels, and up to a certain point the ordinary, old-fashioned steam engine performed this task as well as indus- try required. Bigger and better steam engines were constantly appearing, but all of them shared one limitation, which was that their power could be used only in the immediate vicinity of the boiler. Meanwhile the young art of generating electricity was making rapid strides. Now it happens that electricity can be trans- ported through copper wires over consid- erable distances and used for either light, heat or power, and so is far more useful than steam from a democratic point of view; and the machine age is essentially democratic. Finally there came the day when the makers of electric-generating machines were able to announce that their mastery of their art had far outrun their performance. ‘‘We could build efficient generators a hundredfold larger than any now existing,”’ they said, ‘if only we could find engines to turn them. Our art has reached its uttermost practical develop- ment until the production of primary power makes a new advance.” Tragedy in Progress This announcement would have been a wail of despair but for the fact that tremen- dous strides had simultaneously been made in the steel industry, in machine tools, in the elimination of friction and the efficient burning of coal. By coérdination of these diverse achievements it was now possible for the steam turbine to be born. Briefly, this machine is a big steel bottle with a shaft or axle running through it lengthwise. Attached to this shaft or axle are numerous wheels in the form of thin, solid-steel disks, each fringed with numerous steel blades set sidewise, so that when the steam strikes them the disks revolve and thus turn the central shaft. By this extremely simple and direct application of power, speed far be- yond what a steam engine could provide was economically obtained, and high speed steadily maintained is what produces elec- tricity. Even in the earliest steam turbines re- markable advances were made in reduc- ing friction; the best ones, when once brought to their highest speeds, would run for several days with the power cut off, so perfect was the workmanship. They were the mechanical marvels of their day—a quarter of a century ago—even as they are now. For some years they grew larger and larger without the introduction of any very new or startling inventions, and then sud- denly the whole army of progress was checked by a frightful tragedy. A steam turbine blew up. Some months later an- other one exploded. And no one knew why! From the point of view of the scien- tists leading the great revolution, these events constituted a disaster so tremendous that words can searcely describe it. Let us imagine that someone were to build a ship twice as large as the Leviathan, using its plans as a basis for every detail of con- struction, and that on being launched the ship immediately sank. The builder, one may well imagine, would be baffled. Or let us suppose that a manufacturer doubled the proportions of a one-gallon bucket, and on pouring into it two gallons of water, dis- covered that it would not hold any. Some entirely new element had entered, some- thing about which the builders knew noth- ing whatever. Suddenly the horizon of possibilities in power production had drawn in and settled down over the last successful advance. Beyond lay all the terrors of the unknown, and the great revolution was at an end. The ground then held could, of course, be consolidated, past victories would still be useful, but no further advances were possible until this bafHling mystery was solved. On that day it would have been possible to forecast the limit of mankind's mechanical slaves. The last frontier was charted. Detectives of Science There was no other engine even approxi- mately comparable to the steam turbine, and apparently it had reached its ultimate size. A war map of the great machine revo- lution on that day would have been very much like the ancient maps of the world, which showed the Mediterranean with its islands and shores in great detail, but went only a short distance beyond. Fantastic drawings of monsters, sea serpents, whirl- pools and the falling-off place represented the unknown. These terrors, however, were purely imaginary, while those which stopped the development of steam turbines were real. Lives actually had been lost. From that point on, every experiment would be under- taken at the risk of death. Nevertheless, scientists and skilled arti- sans went to work. They began, somewhat after the manner of detectives, examining hundreds of broken pieces of wrecked tur- bines, searching for clews. Dozens of theo- ries were advanced, and every one that seemed at all probable was given a labora- tory test. Machines were constructed solely to be destroyed under scientific observa- tion. Months rolled on into years and still the mystery was unsolved, but the attack- ing army, instead of melting away under defeat, was steadily augmented. Behind all this effort there was no pop- ular pressure; as a matter of fact, science has always labored without popular sup- port. No commonwealth ever demanded the steamboat, the electric light, the rail- way or any similar achievement. These creations are invariably the work of proph- ets who carry their inspiration under their hats. The makers of turbines simply re- fused to accept defeat. They had an engine already so efficient that only the very best water-power sites could compete with it, and their imaginations were fired by visions of goals far beyond anything then ap- proached. Among the theories advanced it was sug- gested that these turbine explosions might have been caused by vibration of the steel disk wheels; these are necessarily set very close together, and only a small amount of vibration would cause them to rub against each other. If they did that while revolv- ing at such speeds as 1800 revolutions a minute the resulting friction would soon reduce the turbine to a bomb. Accepting the vibration theory as a premise they undertook to see what caused it, and this opened many possibilities. Wind resistance was one, so there followed a long and care- fully conducted inquiry into the behavior of a flag waving in the wind, because that waving is simply vibration due to wind pressure. Axial vibration was another sug- gestion, so a rubber wheel was built and re- volved at high speed in order that its vibrations might be studied, because they would naturally be on a larger scale than vibrations in steel. Continued on Page 76

Page 77

They conquered the common ills— found glorious vital health— by eating one simple food N' IT a ‘“‘cure-all,”’ mann’'s Yeast fresh food. Fleisch- is simply a remarkable not a medicine The millions of tiny active yeast plants in every cake invigorate the whole system. They clear the skin sons of constipation. Where cathartics give aid digestion banish the poi- only temporary relief, yeast strengthens the intestinal muscles and makes them healthy and active, daily releasing new stores of energy. at two or three cakes regularly every day, one before each meal: on crackers, in fruit juices, water or milk—or just plain, in small For constipation dissolve one cake in (not scalding) before meals and at pieces. hot water bedtime. Dangerous habit-forming cathartics will gradually become unnecessary. All grocers have Fleischmann’s Yeast. Buy several cakes at a time—they will keep fresh in a cool dry place for two or three days \nd let us send you a free copy of our latest booklet on Yeast for Health. Health Research Dept. D-23, The Fleischmann Com- pany, 701 Washington Street, New York “MY ENERGY BEGAN TO FLAG soon after iccepting my position as secretary to the presi- lent of a large bank. I became nervous and irri table rhen I discovered Fleischmann’s Yeast. Soon | found— marvel of marvels—that | was no onger tired out at the end of the day’s work, no nger nervous and irritable. Fleischmann’s Yeast | energizer.’ | Y.G THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Pictures ot Health , - Tom Tu FOR MANY YEARS I have been in « training ¢ 1 of athletics ar a — “TT HAD SEVERE INTESTINAL PAINS and gas I have been a chauffeur for twenty years, and sitting in a car for ten or twelve hours a day without any exercise ‘finally told on my system. In this plight I took Fleischmann’'s Yeast In two months the pair were gone I was absolutely a different person | } Ss. But \ ( i ~~ “2 aie — ~ , : 7 UM. | 3 “ - . ° e- ate aE es | ————_ a _ — 4 I WAS TROUBLED WITH INDIGESTION iad G for ! stomach \l ‘ we ‘ Yeast. and | and | t i ‘ ‘ rHIS FAMOUS FOOD tones up the entire svste aids digestion lears the t

Page 78

Gimme a Close-up on th’ world’s greatest fillum—Eskimo Pie! Settin’ at th’ movie last night—dividin’ time between my eyes an’ my mouth. Got a Eskimo Pie in my hand. Hero jumps his horse off a thousand feet cliff just when I took my last bite—an’ | almost swallowed it before it melted right on th’ glad spot! You can have all th’ close-ups you want o’ sheiks an’ shebas on th’ screen —gimme th’ real thing. Just put me close up to a Eskimo Pie, an’ leave me be with my happy appetite! Makes me wish I was a steam shovel an’ could bite a truck load itatime. Um-m-m! Oh, boy! Hort-diggety! Th’ taste of crunchy choc’late coatin’ ming- ‘with th’ big, thick, de-lishus helpin’ o’ ice eam inside of it! Just a half-bite of it makes ou feel as good as a barrel-full of other things would. Say! | like Chaplin an’ Fairbanks an’ ldlovd an’ Mix—but Eskimo Pie is my best rformance! When I get it, | want all close in’ no cut ult If your manu poly vou, write ar f one within shipping dis tan “ “ © half the e cream manutacturers America make Esk Pie. Eskimo Pie Corporation, ». Box 31. Lou Keniucky d e! Crisp, pure chocolate cing bat, a4 Santlary, rapper. That's the magic product marked product —Eskimo Pre. Over two hundred million sold yearly ESKIMO PIE loe CREAM MANUFACTURE The most tluable we cream cont n franchise in the history of th ream in ry. Fu informa n faimed riting u (Continued from Page 74 There was no doubt that a solid-rubber wheel revolving at high speed would de- velop axial vibrations, but the next prob- lem was how to see and measure them. Very little of a scientific nature had ever been done along this line. A solid-rubber disk revolving rapidly looks no different from one that is motionless, for the human eye is baffled by high speeds and simply fails to register them. This difficulty was overcome by setting up the mechanism in a dark room and attaching to it a device that would produce a brilliant electric spark at regular intervals. A point on the wheel was marked, and each time the spark went off that point had to be at the exact top of the wheel. The spark was also regulated to go off as rapidly as the human eye could reg- ister accurately. The result was amazing. All this mechanism is still in existence as a treasured memorial, and I have seen it operated. Slowly the solid-rubber disk would lose its original shape under the axial pressure of high speed, and finally four distinct waves would appear. These were as plainly visible as the nose on a man’s face in broad daylight, for the wheel does not appear to be moving at all. Each flash catches it at exactly the same spot, and the eye is completely deceived. Not only is that possible but an amusing trick can be played with this spark—by speeding it up a trifle the rubber disk appears to be going slowly backward, or by slowing the spark a trifle one sees the wheel revolving lazily forward, when all the while it is going in the same direction and at a terrific rate. All these tricks with the spark were neces- sary in order to determine whether axial- vibration waves move forward with the wheel or backward. That they move very much more slowly than the wheel revolves was at once apparent, therefore it was no easy task to determine which way they were actually going. Raising the Siege After sufficient information on this form of vibration had been gathered it was ap- plied in special testing machines to steel disks such as are used in steam turbines; and then another very interesting labora- tory trick was introduced, so that the task ahead was vastly simplified. First the scientists found that axial vibrations existed in steel disks, and next they discovered that they could produce them artificially in a wheel that was not revolving at all. They did this by means of electrical devices. Armed with this new weapon they could pour dry sand on a horizontal turbine disk that was motionless except for the artifi- cially produced vibrations, and the sand would dance over into the hollows between the waves, giving a perfectly visible motion picture of what was going on. Now the scientists were definitely on their way with victory in sight. They dis- covered and charted and actually drew pictures of every sort of vibration that can possibly go on in a steel turbine wheel. By She seemed to say that she had been waiting years for this day and that disap- pointment now was a little too much to bear. Then silence, as though to ask, “What are you going to do about it? You're a big, strong man and you know how to arrange these things for little girls.” Andy found himself wondering how old she was. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, perhaps older. She had the ingenuous air of a youngster about her, but it was coupled with the poise and composure of worldli- ness. Her dark eyes were pleading with him mutely. ‘They're giving me the interval between the second and third races, extending it for me,”’ he explained. “I'll have just time enough for my stunts and that’s all. Per haps some other time.”’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST means of numerous tests they found the speeds at which each kind of vibration would appear in each type of wheel and what changes would eliminate it. They found the speeds at which two vibration waves of different types would meet each other in a wheel of any given dimension and cause trouble. At the end of four years of painstaking, often unpromising effort they had worked out the laws of vibration in steel disks so accurately that they can now be set down in tables of figures not much more difficult to understand than the multiplication table and certainly no more intricate than ordinary geometry. New tools were then introduced, and along with them new testing machines. Steel disks, of course, will always vibrate if the right speed is reached, but it is possi- ble nowadays to equip a turbine with wheels whose vibration point is known be- yond the possibility of a doubt, and they are never placed in a machine that will run at that speed. The whole mechanism is keyed so that it cannot run at the danger- ous speeds. Once the laws of vibration were charted, making use of them became a very simple job; just as simple, for ex- ample, as making cartridges for rifles. If one were to explode a twelve-gauge shot- gun shell in a .22-caliber rifle the result might be disastrous, but a twelve-gauge shot-gun shell will not go into the barrel of a .22-caliber rifle, so there is very little danger of that accident happening. Every turbine wheel has, and always will have, its critical speed, but every turbine is keyed to operate far, far away from that speed. This victory cost four years and some millions of dollars. It would be impossible to say how many men participated in the work. But with success the great revolu- tion was again under way. Literally hun- dreds of armies that had been held up resumed their march; without the promise of the cheap and abundant power of the steam turbine becoming ever cheaper and more abundant, they had been unable to go any farther. Now the siege was raised, work was resumed all over the world on dynamos, insulation, cables to carry heavier voltages longer distances, better copper, more copper, cheaper copper, electric-light bulbs, and machines beyond enumeration began to be equipped with suitable motors. Every year since that victory cheap power has been extended farther and farther out into the rural districts. National and inter- national committees of scientists are now at work on the whole problem of farm electri- fication. That is the next objective in this great war, and the chief strategists confi- dently believe it will be carried within a decade. Politicians, philosophers and sociologists often date the machine age from the intro- duction of mochanical power into the tex- tile industry in England, but the present leaders of the industrial revolution regard that event as extremely ancient history. They would be more likely to date the ma- chine age with the steam turbine and make it very recent. ANN *N’ ANDY (Continued from Page 7 “I particularly wanted to go up today,” she announced. Andy shifted his long body, cocked his blond head to one side and smiled amusedly. “T was to ride in the steeplechase this afternoon,’’ she went on sorrowfully, ‘but the doctor says my collar bone isn’t firmly enough set.” “Break it?” She nodded glumly. ‘Rotten luck, wasn’t it?’’ The oval of her face, framed with dark, very softly curling hair, was turned up to him appealingly. “T really would like to take you,”’ said Andy. “I'll see what I can do, but I’m afraid there isn’t much chance.” *T'll be waiting for you here,”’ she said. “My name’s Ann Paton, by the way.” **Mine’s Torrey — Andrew Torrey.’ November 6, 1926 About ten years ago a prominent Amer- ican financier remarked that the electrical industry in this country would soon require $1,000,000 a day of new capital, and Wall Street was shocked. Last year the electrical industry absorbed about $2,000,000 daily of new capital, and no one was shocked! When the great defeat checked progress and ended the flow of mechanical slaves, the steam-turbine electric-generating plant had touched 26,000 horse power. Today the giant down at the foot of Fourteenth Street, Manhattan, produces 80,000. Over in Brooklyn there is a slightly newer and much larger one. Chicago will soon have a turbine producing 150,000 horse power, and there is now under construction one de- signed to produce 280,000 horse power. It will be set up in the state of Indiana within less than eighteen months. The Motto of Freedom Now that the giants are again marching, the commissary department is back on the job, and for every ton of coal used these engines save other tons by their efficiency. For instance, a fair average performance for steam turbines in 1903 was 730 kilowatts of electrical energy per ton of coal con- sumed. In 1925 the same ton gave 2000 kilowatts, nor is there any reason to believe that that is the limit of economy, for off in the distance is the mercury engine, which is simply a turbine that uses mercury vapor instead of steam, and mercury boils at a much lower temperature than water. These great central power plants are the heart of the machine age. But for them and their economies, such implements as electric vacuum cleaners, dishwashers, floor polishers, and a thousand implements oper- ated by motors in workshop and factory would not exist. The turbine makes it pos- sible for the humblest home to enjoy cheap electric light. Strange as it may seem to- day, the public did not demand electric light, nor were the pioneers of the electrical industry themselves certain that this utility would find a market beyond municipal business centers. The pressure that forced electricity out into the suburbs, and finally beyond, came from the laboratory, where one motto is written high above all the others: It Can be Done. These men whom the public does not know, and who do not know the public in a democratic sense, are the authors of this machine age, and strangely enough, the spiritual force, the underlying motive, that drives them ceaselessly forward is public service. If they had a banner, upon it-would be inscribed Freedom. Freedom for elbows and the enfranchisement of brains. Slaves without number for every man, woman and child. Could that possibly project us into a drab and colorless era? They think not. From their viewpoint humanity is just peeping over the mountain tops, catching the first glimpse of dawn in a new world. They have boundless faith that men and women will find this new world lovely. Her mouth curved in an irresistible smile. “Ann ’n’ Andy--that’s propitious! You tell Duf Kramer —he’s running the show this year—that Ann 'n’ Andy are going for a buggy ride. It'll be arranged, all right enough. Duf's pretty quick about doing whatever I want him to do.”’ Torrey came back across the track in the wake of the first race. Ann was standing upon the fence staring anxiously after the horses. He reached up and touched her arm. “C'mon! It’s all set!" He held her hands while she jumped. ‘We'll take off right after this race. That gives us a good half hour. We’ll have to make it snappy.” The two mechanics got the engine turn- ing over, warming, while Torrey got t ie Continued on Page 79

Page 79

THAT a cathedral Nature has buile in the fore ( Califomia! How like pigmies men and women are beneath us spires reaching to the sky —stalwart symbols of beauty, enduring How you can get Duco On Your New Car is the smart finish on e than 35 makes of auto- wOMTLesS On Your Present Car is a refinisher near you n renew the appear your car by factory On Your New Furniture e than YO manufacturers e Duco-finished fur t and it is sold b uressive dealers everywhere Orher Uses of Duco Duco is used on many articles in the home, and in industry A few of the hundred odd uses are: on electrical con veniences, pianos, railway equipment, etc. For Handy Home Uses Duco can also be secured for 1 on at home; from good dealers everywhere Pont de Nemours & Chemical Products , Parlin, } Aich., Chicag . s ncisco, Cal., Everett, Mass., or Fline Paint and Varnish Limited, Torontc anada THE SATURDAY EVENING POST : : ae pr dl * : > Fad da we ce. * i , ¢: I eed "There is only OM Bin Oi iiect ne OL CF ONG bir. OINTING miraculous spires to the very frontiers of the skies, the giant redwoods sym- bolize a beauty that has endured since Man first dreamed of Beauty... .Today, in per- petuating that dream, Duco, a finish, satin-smooth, yet incredibly durable, has been created — created to bring to the objects which surround our lives—like motor cars, like furniture, a hun- dred articles that come into the home — a beauty that endures, disdaining the ravages of Time.

Page 80

78 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 ale Copyright 1926, United States Gypsum Company “It is the one insulating sheathing I have found that does not lower the structural strength, There are fewer joints to Gyp- Lap, less shrinkage, and perfect insulation, to say nothing of reducing the fire hazard.” From architects, contractors and home owners all ever the country we are constantly receiving reports on the value of Gyp-Lap, the fireproof sheathing. Most of them stress the point that Gyp-Lap effects a real saving over old-style sheathing material. Savings of as much as 35% are not unusual with Gyp-Lap. A study of both the Mortensen and Morris jobs shows that the sheathing with Gyp-Lap was done in half the time re- quired for wood sheathing. In the Mortensen house, three men put on 3000 feet of Gyp-Lap in nine hours. In the Morris house, another Gyp-Lap saving was shown. When the entire house was sheathed the contractor found he had five full sheets more than he had esti- mated, because there had been no “20°, wastage for overlapping” as must be figured in with wood. ing of the best-known building contractors in Park Ridge, Illinois, recently used Gyp-Lap on two new homes in that pro- gressive and good-looking suburb of Chicago. What they say is of interest to every builder’s pocketbook: “There is a large economy in labor cost by the use of this material,” writes Mr. B. V. Morris. “The fact that the board is a large unit, and has no splinters, knots or other defects, makes it easy for the mechanics to handle. It saws and nails as easily as wood, “The masons find it extremely easy in brick veneering work to fasten the ties For lower building costs, then, as well as better build- to the studding, whereas when building paper is used over ordinary sheathing, ¢ ing results, fireproof theframework and insulate your i ip Sion eo ann Gee eeeneS yy house withGyp-Lap mineral lumber. Sold by dealers Mr. Harold N. Mortensen admits that he was reluctant to try any but ( in Sheetrock, lumber or builders'supplies everywhere. “the old tested wood materials.” Yet his first experience with Gyp-Lap 4 UNITED STATES GYPSUM COMPANY General Offices: 205 West Monroe Street, Chicago, Illinois j Reg. U.S. Pat. Off, The Sheathing prompted this letter: FIRE ‘ 2 oe a eager Sew UNITED STATES GYPSUM COMPANY rize Contest have been compiled in an at- ary « Wes ynroe Street. Chicago - HOMES tractive book. Send $1.00 and this coupon ae sr Ses Sen Seat, Senge, nee to Fireproofing Department W, U.S. Gyp- Send me sample of Gyp-Lap and free Booklet. ‘Protected Homes.” g sum Co., 205 W. Monroe St., Chicago. I]! y : PROD UCTS N= j Name Address ity City SS |

Page 81

{ (Continued from Page 76 girl into a jumper, helmet and goggles. He stowed her in the rear seat and secured the belt. “Know asked. Her head shook. “I'd like to though.” “That’s the rudder bar,’’ he explained, pointing into the depths of the cockpit ‘You ean put your feet on it, but becareful not to give it a kick.’”’ He took the double control stick from its clips and inserted it in the socket. “If you'll keep your hand on that you'll get some idea of how it’s I'll show you when we get in the >» anything about planes he done. air.”’ The horses were entering the stretch. Andy slipped into his own cockpit. The slap of hoofs rose above the mutter of the engine. “Let's go!” The plane rolled ahead, Benson dragging upon a wing to swing it into the wind; then four hundred and fifty horse power spoke out and the earth dropped beneath them. They ascended in huge steps, leaping sky- ward, leveling off and leaping again, until the race course was a small white oval. Andy throttled down and motioned to the right. She felt the control stick move slightly; the Hornet banked and they swung about. Then to the left. He wagged a disapproving finger in the air and shook his head; a brusque movement of the stick made the Hornet leap convulsively. It was like whipping a thoroughbred. In panto- mime he demonstrated the efficacy of gen- tleness, and the plane moved this way and that under his touch. The roar of the motor died down. “See how it works?’ demanded the pilot. She tried to speak against the air blast and couldn’t, but she nodded, face shining with a smile. ‘You try it now! She moved the stick ever so slightly and began to maneuver the plane herself, ex- perimentally, a little timidly at first. Pres- ently, to show her that she was alone at the control stick, Andy put his hands on the edge of the cockpit. He stretched a little, adjusted his goggles and then appeared to be enormously interested in Greenbrook. Its sprawling country houses were in minia- ture, each set in a tidy impeccable lawn of emerald. Many of them had rectangular swimming pools which, like small mirrors, flashed in the afternoon sun. She had got the hang of it quickly, he remarked to himself. Probably was a mighty good horsewoman. People who handle horses make the best pilots good hands. He decided to see how her nerve was, so he grabbed the small struts from the engine section to the upper wing and drew himself out of his seat, sprawled over the windshield and pretended to be con- cerned with the cap of the fuel tank. The Hornet held to its course without a wabble. In getting back to his seat he de- liberately struck the stick with his knee; she corrected promptly, smoothly. He throttled down to yell, “‘Good girl!” She beamed upon him. ‘“ Want to try some stunts?”’ he asked. She nodded enthusi astically Here we go!” Throttle open, he let the Hornet plunge earthward for a few seconds; then earth and sky, like two equally curved surfaces, one green and the other blue, flipped about them. They headed skyward, almost ver- tically, in a soaring flight that seemed to last minutes; next they wing-slipped, knif- ing toward earth, with the stay wires whistling through the wind like a calliope gone crazy. The Hornet rolled completely put its nose down and commenced to spin; beneath them the world became a vast revolving bowl of green, with the oval track reeling drunkenly in the center. They came out of the spin abruptly, did a hairpin turn into the field, landed and taxied up to the grand stand. Mike and Benson came trotting up with the guns for the after cockpit. “Thanks! Thanks a lot!’ gasped Ann. “It was wonderful!” “Glad you liked it.” He took her flying gear and tossed it to Benson. She found over, herself forgotten in the rush of mounting then, a few moments later Mike, watching the Hornet’s diminishing body machine guns; she was standing mutely beside race down the sield and leap into the air ‘Some pilot!’ announced Mike. ‘And some bus!” “What are they asked. ‘“*Pot that white barrel in the center of the field. Do you like flying?” Ann nodded. “I think I'll become a pilot.” She added, as an afterthought, “*He’s going to teach me.” The Hornet had turned and was bearing down upon the field. The forward guns began to spit; the white barrel became sud- denly animated in a shower of bullets. It rolled and jumped. The plane mounted, swung about and the rear brace of guns took up the fire. Except for intervals that could be measured by seconds, two of the four guns were sputtering constantly. “Brought down eight Germans, Torrey did!” said Mike. “A grand pilot! You can’t beat him!” He loped away and stopped before a long cylinder of gas. Ann followed. The Hornet had abandoned the barrel and was getting altitude. Mike fitted a bit of red rubber over the mouth of the cylin- der, expanded it into a balloon about a yard in diameter, tied the opening and released it. Torrey dived to attack, missed it, snapped the plane about and went in pur- suit. The balloon, slashed by propeller blades, vanished. More balloons went up. “Benson’s going to jump now,” said Mike. Ann’s throat tightened as she watched Benson's small figure perch upon the edge of the cockpit and drop into space. An in- stant later the parachute blossomed like a white flower and he came drifting into the field. She was beside the going to do?” Ann Hornet when it stopped Andy leaped out. well?” he asked. “Great! But don’t go back tonight. Stay out here. I'll put you up at my house. There’s a big field where you can land. You can teach me how to fly.” “Can't possibly stay!” “Why not?” demanded Ann. “Business. I have to be on the job. Somebody might come along with a flying stunt to be done and if I’m not there I lose. Money’s a dreadful thing.” ‘You mean that someone might want to engage you to fly— pay you for it?” Andy laughed. “I’m afraid that’s it.” “All right!” said the girl. you to fly. That’s simple enough. you can stay here.” He looked into her eyes and found them intensely earnest; her small chin had jutted out slightly. “‘That costs quite a bit of money.”” He turned to Benson. “Let Mike bring the ‘chute with him on the train. You can refold it later. We have to shove.”’ **Do you realize,’”” demanded Ann Paton, “that I mean what I say? That I’m engag- ing you to stay here?” Her voice had risen imperiously, and she planted her small arrogant self directly before him. ‘“‘At a hundred dollars aday? Why, your people would laugh in my face!” “They wouldn't, because I haven’t any people. I’m my own people! If I want to pay you a hundred dollars a day to stay here in Greenbrook and teach me to fly it’s my own business. You’ve told me what you charge and I’ve agreed to pay it. Why argue?” Andy looked at her thoughtfully. He shrugged. “If you’re sure you want to pay that much a ‘I'm generally sure of what I want,” s retorted. A grin spread slowly over his face. “‘And you generally get it, don’t you?”’ *T always have.”’ A smile was tugging up the corners of her mouth. He turned to the mechanics who had been eying them from a distance. Jenson, you and 1] are going to stay here and teac! “Did it go pretty “T’ll engage Then THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Miss Paton to fly. You can go back with the stuff, Mik I'l] get the office on long daistance “Well,” said Ann with a sigh, “I’m glad that’s settled.”” She slipped her hand through his arm. ‘‘Come on to my box and watch the next race. I’ve got a whole flock of guests over there “I'd better telephone first.”’ “Oh, bother the telephone! Come on.” Benson looked after them and nodded his head slowly. ‘I always knew some likely lookin’ gal ’d hook him. Know who she is, Mike ere “*Her?’’ demanded Mike. He shot Ben- son a glance of mingled sorrow, disgust and contempt. “‘Why, man alive, that’s the Four-Million-Doliar Baby!” Ann Paton was motherless two days after her birth, and fatherless ten months later. Corley Paton, partly to get away from his grief and partly because his professional experience was needed, had plunged into a remote district of Mexico to examine some mining properties. A drunken peon with a gun, waiting for his favorite enemy, made a mistake and Paton tumbled from his pony, head drilled by a bullet. Ann, heiress to his entire fortune, since there were no other relatives, had destiny shaped for her by courts, bankers and her father’s business associates. At least they guarded her money, selected governesses and com- panions and trusted to Providence. A Miss Literly had reigned the first twelve years. She became ill and was retired on pension. Mrs. Braithewaite, a widow, presided for a scant two years before she married again. She was succeeded by Mrs. Hoyt, also a widow, who superintended Ann’s European education and entrance into society. Dur- ing the last few years she had done little more than cast a sufficiently convincing shadow of chaperon. Ann indisputably ran herself and the household. The house at Greenbrook had been Ann’s idea, and she carried it through despite Mrs. Hoyt’s faint wailings that London, Paris and the Riviera were “‘ more suitable background.” It was situated, as its name, The Crest, signified, so that it gazed down upon Greenbrook and across the lake; an old, amiable, much-lived-in house, rebuilt and furnished by Ann herself during violent, spasmodic periods of interest in the place At any moment a plague of workmen might descend upon them with saws, hammers, troughs of steaming plaster. Ann enjoyed it. She liked the noise of accomplishment and the thrill of change. A new bathroom was an emotional experience; a new guest cottage in the woods a delirium of planning, creation and achievement. During the work of excavating for the big oval swim- ming pool Ann had perched for hours upon the edge of the crater, watching the dinky steam shovel struggle for mouthfuls of earth. But there were times when the complex activity of the house depressed and wor- ried her, and then she turned violently to the comforting flesh and blood of horses. She liked their clean, slick coats and vel- vety noses, the gleam of crisp golden straw and the ammoniac odor of the stalls. It was the best escape she knew from guests to play bridge or dance with them all night long, send them to bed, change into riding clothes and canter into a world that was entirely her own. Guests, for the most part, did as they pleased. Ann had picked up that gracious- hospitality at English country There were horses, cars, ness of houses. books, tennis, golf, swimming and bells to summon servants. Mrs. Hoyt fluttered about a good deal, giving an air of hostess by proxy; but, as she was an agreeable, subdued soul subdued largely through years of tion with Ann’s vehement activity she retired early, no one was bothered by her. She fitted comfortably enough into the patchwork scheme of Ann’s life and, whatever happened, she was seldom more than conventionally disturbed. Ann, eyes shining, slipped her hand through Andy’s arm and led him into the big central hall of her house assocla- and, as Stands abuse “follows through “YANKEE” Bit Extension is vew! Bit held by socket. No jaws to break. No loosening and pulling out of bit in work. No trouble to ‘‘follow through’’. And bit in **Yankee’’ Socket can't jam. A. “YANKEE” No. 2150 Bit Extension Lengths: 15, 18, 21, and 24 inches lull nickel-plate finish Holds large range of Dit shanks Ask your to show you this new *“Yankee”’ ‘Tool for saving time and labor hardware cde die! Write us for Free “Yankee"’ Tool Book Show ili t oO ** Va nk To f h Norru Bro M ( ; U.S.A “YANKEE™ TOOLS Make Belliv Mechanic,

Page 82

THE SATURDAY A Sixteenth Century fork | bearing on its bandlethe arms of Cos mo de Medi, frst Duke of Tuscany. Send for interest- mg and insirue- tive booklet ouslin- om the history | tableware. lt will be sent free of (Darke Sig Sedng —the graceful Reed & Barton fork of today TALY did not invent the fork. She adopted it! In the Sixteenth Century Italy was the world center of refinement. Yet, in her inns, and even in her first households, the custom prevailed of an entire company taking food trom a single trencher with fingers that often were far more adept than clean. And so, in revolt at this custom, Italy adopted a two-pronged instrument that had been used in the Byzantine Empire, possibly only by a discriminating few, as far back as the Ninth Century. Thus came the fork to Italy, But it was against greater obstacles that its use spread to other countries. In England it was regard- ed as a feminine utensil far beneath stalwart manhood, while throughout Europe its use called forth vio- lent outbursts from the Clergy who decried this man-made substitute for the ten fingers the dignity o supplied by a Divine Providence! xk eR KR Your jeweler will be to show you the v highest development ef the fork today, in a ie of patterns in Reed & Barton solid silver or heavy, durable silver plate—all expressive of Reed & Barton's full century of experience in producing fine table ware. REED & BARTON, TAUNTON, MASS. ee EOC a The two-pronged weapon- like instrument of Old Italy C = . + L 9: Lent N, ESTABLISHED OVER lOO YEARS SILVERWARE ~— PLATED SILVERWARE MESS, charm, "C nit thi your table. Francis First Desert Fork (Reduced Size Its richness, its splendid graceful- its unre- strained freedom all breathe the at- mosphere of those courtly revelons days of Francis First. Imagine the the indi- viduality that this ale rious design bring to Nn EVENING POST A butler appeared. ‘Another place for dinner, Martin. And have the little cottage made ready for Mr. Torrey.” She turned to Andy. “Let’s dash or we won't get away.’ She indicated the motors which had stopped before the door and the people spilling from them. They went out upon the veranda and across the lawn, entered a strip of woods and emerged upon a large flat field. “Will this do?”’ ““Couldn’t be better!’’ answered Andy. “Are there any ditches or fences?”’ “Not a thing. Way down at the other end there is a stone patch. The rest of it is perfectly clear. I know because I’ve ridden all over it. I had an idea of making a polo field here.”’ **Fine enough!” “Good! Let’s get back to the ship.” The car was waiting for them at the house and they headed immediately for the fairgrounds, where the Hornet and Benson were waiting. Andy looked at the girl beside him curi- ously, trying to puzzle out the answers to a thousand questions he wanted to ask. Since she had first spoken to him, scarcely two hours ago, he had had the sense of being in the most rapid, the most vitally compelling current of life he had ever known. There was something cyclonic about Ann, an irre- sistible rush about her ideas. Her eyes met his and she laughed out- right. “T always do things this way,’ she announced. “It’s so much more fun. I detest people who dawdle and never take a chance. The world’s full of °em! Tell me how long do you think it’ll be before I can fly the Hornet alone?”’ **You’ll be doing solo hops in a couple of weeks, but not in the Hornet. I’ll get an easier ship for you to handle.” ‘‘But why not the Hornet?” ‘*Too powerful and too heavy for a young pilot.” “Ho! Don’t be absurd!”’ She turned upon him, wide-eyed with amazement. ‘‘Do you think I’m going to fly some two-horse- power affair when there’s a ship like the Hornet hanging arofind loose?” ““We can’t run any chances of the Hornet getting cracked up,” he explained. ‘It’s the only one there is and we are turning it over to the Army. They’re going to test it for a month or so. And you'll be better off in an Umpty-Seven.”’ ‘‘Umpty-Seven, my eye!” replied Ann wrathfully. ‘‘I’m going to fly that Hornet!’’ ‘*No you're not!” said Andy. Her expression became sober, with a flash of anger in her eyes and about her mouth. ‘‘I certainly shall, if I please.” Andy grinned at her. ““Why—why, I'll buy it! That’s what I'll do!” “It isn’t for sale.” “‘That’s ridiculous! Whoever heard of a company manufacturing things that aren’t for sale.”’ ‘You might try and see how many tons of TNT you can buy.” ‘“‘T could get as much as I wanted,”’ she replied. ‘‘If necessary I'll buy your whole darn company.” **Loud cheers!” exclaimed Andy. ‘‘ We'll get some money in the business yet. Good- ness knows, we need it! If the Army doesn’t decide to replace some of the antediluvian crates it’s flying we'll go bust-o pretty soon. I’]] tell Morrison you're going to buy the company. Will you keep me on as chief pilot? Or do you think you'll take over my job too?” She bit her lip and didn’t reply. Andy said to himself: ‘‘Spoiled child! Just a lit- tle bit!”’ ‘I didn’t agree to let you solo in the Hornet,’’ he went on. ‘‘And I’m not going to let you. The Hornet isn’t any sort of plane for an inexperienced pilot to go bat- ting about in. I've taught a good many people to fly and I know what I’m talking about.’ He could feel his own temper ris- ing slightly. The car drew up beside the race track and stopped. ‘You may think you can buy the M. P. T. company,” he November 6, 1926 added resentfully, ‘“‘but if I’m going to teach you how to fly you're going to do as | say, and you might just as well make up your mind to it. Otherwise, there’s still time for me to shove off for Long Island.” He got out of the car and Ann sat there scowling. During the afternoon Andy’s mind had been engaged in balancing the aero-turbine’s ledger. This job, he figured, would bring in about a thousand dollars, more if she de- cided to buy a plane. Then the movie job, if it came through, would mean another thousand. But hopes of a few months of undisturbed experiment seemed to be glim- mering out. He waited for her answer. “I don’t like to be told what I can do and what I can’t do,’’ she announced, a little sullenly. **So I’ve noticed.” “Oh, well, don’t be so cross about it. Of course I’m not going to let you go back.” Her eyes came up slowly to meet his in an impudent challenge and a smile made her lips twitch. Andy had surrendered the pilot’s seat to Ann Paton, and was riding as passenger. He had the controls before him, to be sure, and could use them in an emergency, but his feet were off the rudder bar and his hands were out of the cockpit. Ann swung the plane about, throttled down, settled into a glide. They skimmed over the field, losing speed, and she brought the ship to earth in an easy three pointer—wheels and tail skid at the same instamt. It was her eighth perfect landing that morning. He leaned forward and patted her shoul cer. ‘Good work, Ann!’’ She turned and beamed at him radiantly. ‘‘That’s enough for now. Run her in.” With the air of a professional she gave the plane full rudder and a blast of power, swinging it about, and taxied with the con trol stick well forward to lighten the tail load. Benson was waiting with a grin. ‘‘At-a- pilot!” he yelled. ‘“‘What was it the French boys used to say, captain? Like a flower?”’ ““Yep—comme une fleur."’ He helped her from the plane and deposited her on earth Her expression was luminous. ‘““You didn’t touch the controls at all, did you?” she asked excitedly. ‘“Not once! I was just so much ballast.”’ ‘*Then I could fly the Hornet all alone if you'd let me?”’ They hadn’t reverted to that argument during the two weeks Andy had been at Greenbrook. “Yes,” hesaid. ‘‘ Unless something hap- pened that takes more experience than you've got.” She sighed deeply. ‘*Want to fly this afternoon?” he asked her. ‘Perhaps before dinner. I promised to play golf after luncheon with Luke Holmes and Dot. Would you like to play?” ‘*Thanks—I’ll be working.”’ He had sent for the aero-turbine designs and was making detail drawings of parts— drawings for the actual construction of the engine They headed through the woods toward the house. Luncheon at The Crest was a sketchy affair. Two serving tables held large silver platters of hors d’ceuvre, bowls of salad and an array of warming pans. House guests and the casuals of Greenbrook’s sum- mer colony straggled in as they pleased golf clothes, riding clothes, the latest chic in frocks—inspected platters, lifted lids, took seats at the long table and told the two men servants what they wanted. When he had first come to Ann’s house Andy found it confusing, bewildering, but after a day or so he discovered himself ac- cepting the complete informality of lunch- eons at The Crest just as others accepted it No onetroubled about introductions, unless there was some special reason; everyone chatted with everyone else. (Continued on Page 82

Page 83

country editor’s y think them regard them as too But they are, as a matter of tact, profoundly You MAY THINK. the locals are flat, or You trivial to mention, much less print. you may runny. may interesting to his readers and he knows it. So do his bigger brothers, the editors ot the metropolitan dathies, tor some ot hav e the greatest of city circulations been built by a_ painstaking reporting of the local netghborhood news. Long ago, the newspapers realized that, next to themselves, people are in terested in their relatives, their neigh hors, and the activities of their own circle. Who What did serve Have the boys next marred whom? she ; ; tor luncheon ? ? Who ts a new home, knitting blue baby , roOmyg ( graduating? What became ot Unck abroad Ber s boy? June Atkins has gone on the stag socks, making money, News, vital news, every bit a 17 ' In our twenty nve million homes, pr ( Pp S read with equal inte rest the daly news of many famous products that are alm« Much more ana trace members of the ramiuv. than servants, these brands ] less than frien are only a little advertising has not only helped but it tells } them there, their prices, their places advantages, their change Vitali news... local news. W. AYER N NEW YORK BOSTON THE SATURDAY EVENING POST & PHITI ADI SON L.PHI \ \ 1 the 2 wood te a as absorb veighbors oth paste relative

Page 84

Continued from Page 80 “I'm terribly hungry!’ he announced as e entered and made for the serving tables. If there was any conventional entrance at uncheon, that was it “T hope you choke!”’ announced a girl feelingly. “Who hopes I choke?” “| do.” Andy glanced over his shoulder and discovered that it was a blond girl he had seen several times, but whose name he couldn’t remember, if he had ever heard it. ‘You came over the seventh this morning,” she said, “‘and cut loose with that hell wagon just as I was putting.” “Blame Ann. She was piloting. I was sandbagging.”’ “Was she really flying the bus?’ “She really was.” He waived hors d’ceuvre and started directly upon veal-and-kidney pie. Ann entered, gave a general “ Hello,”’ and took the chair beside him. Conversation cen- tered upon aeroplanes for a few minutes and wavered to speed boat. Ann insinu- ated her hand under his arm. ** Andy.” ““Yes,”’ ‘Are you going to let me do a solo hop in the Hornet? Just one!” she begged. ‘*You know I won't.” ‘Just one! Please! Just one and I won’t ask for any more. Please, Andy!”’ His head shook. “Oh, rot!’’ Her hand jerked away and she sprang from her chair. “You make me tired! You're horrid!” The blond girl whe had hoped he’d choke asked languidly, “Is this a lovers’ quarrel or just the ordinary midday set-to?”’ Ann made a noise which might be trans- scribed “Nh-h-h!’"’ It denoted wrath. She flashed a withering glance at Andy and left the room, her luncheon only half fin- ished. “*She’s a touch annoyed because I won't let her take the Hornet up alone,” ex- plained Andy. “Just a touch! ‘Nope.” “You're hopeful! Imagine trying to keep Ann from doing anything she gets her head set on!"’ She laughed at him. “Why not let her do it?” “The Hornet’s too difficult for a young pilot. If something went wrong — if the en- gine conked, for example—she might crack up. I wouldn’t like to have Ann break her neck.”’ “Ts flying really dangerous?”’ Andy pondered for a moment. ‘ Well, a lot of people get bumped off in the game, but it’s mostly their own foolishness. You can make planes pretty safe, but you can’t eliminate the human factor. That’s the dangerous element.” She smiled at him. “Isn't the human factor always the dangerous element in everything—even in teaching a pretty girl how to fly?”’ She arose, patted away a yawn. ‘Dear old human nature! As I’ve so often remarked to my classes in biology, ‘What would we do without it?’” A man across the table interrupted to ask if she were being cynical again. ‘*Cynical!’’ she repeated. ‘‘Good grief, i'm being positively romantic!" She laughed and sauntered away. Andy looked ifter her a little blackly. in the hall he found Luke Holmes look- ing for Ann. “‘We were going to get an early start, but I can’t find her. You don’t know where she is, do you, Torrey?” “No, I don’t.” “She was headed toward the stables a few minutes ago,” said another man. Andy struck a match and had it almost to his cigarette when a swift thought made him utter an “Oh!” as though he had been jabbed. He tossed the match aside, streaked out of the door, across the lawn and into the woods, toward the field where the plane was parked. His ears were straining, ex- pecting at any minute to catch the first sputtering throb of the Hornet's engine. lle emerged irom the strip of woods si- ntly and stood there unobserved. Ann ’ \ren’t you going to let \é THE SATURDAY was in the Hornet, craning out and calling instructions to one of the chauffeurs, who was swinging upon the propeller in a valiant but ineffectual attempt to start the motor. He didn’t have the trick; he couldia’t snap it over compression. “‘Pertsch,” called Ann excitedly, ‘put it crossways, a little down. Then run and take a jump at it. Try hard!” Andy waited, half amused and half angry. The chauffeur, Pertsch, tried hard and hung suspended on the blade. “Put some muscle into it!”’ ordered Ann. Andy lighted his cigarette and sat down, face stretched into a grin. Pertsch wrestled with the blade again and again. “Can't do it, Miss Paton,” he gasped finally. He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve and stood there blowing. Ann rose in the cockpit, snatched off her helmet and goggles, threw them to the ground, jumped down, turned and discov- ered Andy lolling comfortably against a tree stump a dozen yards away. “Oh, you ” she began, furious with rage. “You! Oh, how I hate you! How da-a-are you sit there and laugh? I—Oh! Oh! i She was speechless, hands clenched, eyes blazing, lips parted. Andy got to his feet. “I thought that was what you were up to,” he said. “But I might have known you couldn’t get the engine turning over. It’s quite a trick.” He walked past her, felt inside the fuselage to make sure that the switch was off, then went to the propeller. He took a flying leap at the blade and it went over easily. But Ann wasn’t watching; she was marching, stiff with rage, into the woods. Tears, which he could not see, were running down her cheeks. Andy leaned against the propeller blade, smiling grimly, and gazing after her. Pertsch gathered up his coat and cap and prepared to follow. He paused. ‘Say, Mr. Torrey, I wish you'd show me how you do that.” Andy, in an almost malevolent good humor, showed him and let him try it sev- eral times. He even explained how to fall away from the propeller when the engine starts. Back in his comfortable suite in the cot- tage, Andy slowly divested himself of super- fluous clothing and settled himself over his drawing board. The intricacies of the aero- turbine seemed like a hopeless mess of un- correlated lines and figures, and his thoughts went elusively, again and again, toAnn. “She’s a mighty game youngster,” he said to himself, and he felt sorry that she had brought about her own humiliation. She shouldn’t have tried that; but it did seem a little unreasonable not to let her fly the Hornet when she had worked so hard and done so well. After an hour, during which he had ac- complished nothing, the telephone rang and he picked up the receiver, hoping that he would hear Ann’s voice. It was Morri- son calling from the Umpty field. ‘“Andy, the movie job is fixed for day after tomorrow, at Burnt Rock. They want to get several shots before the wreck, but it oughtn’t to take more than a day. And the Army wants the Hornet delivered at Mitchel. Will you come down first crack tomorrow?” “Yes. How much is there in the movie job?” “One thousand flat for you. And I get full price for the Eleven you want to crack up.” “Glory be! there.”’ He slammed up the receiver and uttered a joyous ‘‘Wheeze!’’ Then he plunged into work; the mess of lines and figures began to take form. The aero-turbine began to grow in metal before his eyes. A rap at the door interrupted him. It was the butler. “Miss Paton is waiting dinner for you, sir.” “Oh, good Lord!”” He jumped from his chair. In the bedroom he found his clothes That sets me up. I'll be EVENING POST laid out, and five minutes later he entered the house, wondering uncomfortably if he were entirely dressed. “T’msorry, Ann,” hesaid. “I was work- ing and I forgot about the time.” “It doesn’t make any difference,”’ she said meekly. She drew closer to him, som- ber eyes coming up to meet his. ‘‘ Benson says you're leaving tomorrow morning. It—it isn’t because I was such a little beast, is it?” “Of course not,’’ he replied, sympathy touched. Her voice, he noticed, was a little husky and there was a telltale suggestion of heaviness in her eyes. ‘‘ Morrison wants me to turn the Hornet over to the Army, and then there’s another job I have to do. Just a one-day affair. I'll come back with another plane, if you'd like.” She nodded. “I’m glad you're not too angry with me.” “T’m not a bit angry, Ann,” he assured her, feelingly. She smiled up at him shyly. There were eight at dinner; two tables of bridge later. Andy played indifferently well, his thoughts wandering from aero- turbines to Ann and back again, and sel- dom resting upon bridge for more than an instant. Ann was wearing a filmy green frock and he thought he had never seen her prettier; she was oddly subdued, and he found a charmingly new quality in her re- pose. Their eyes met repeatedly. When, at midnight, the Jeffersons an- nounced that they must go, he rose from the table thankfully. “*T’m shoving off at dawn,”’ he explained. “Better be getting to bed.”’ Ann, still play- ing, gave him her hand and a smile. He said good night and moved slowly across the lawn toward the cottage, where the lights of his living room made yellow rectangles in the violet darkness. He would have liked another talk with Ann, about nothing in particular—just to say good- by—but, he said to himself, she probably would feel that she must remain with her guests.. Despite the bedlam at luncheon time, probably because of it, she liked to preserve an air of form at dinner. It was as though she found refuge and tranquillity for a few hours in stepping from a disor- derly world into one which existed conven- tionally. His drawings were still upon the table. He frowned down at them, discovered a line he wanted to change, and, having changed it, continued to work. Several hours later Ann’s voice aroused him sharply. She had spoken his name. He went to the window and found her face, ghostlike, peering over the railing of the veranda. “I couldn’t sleep,” she explained. “I felt so hot and fussy. I thought I'd go in for a swim; then I saw your lights. Are you still working?”’ “Yes. I got started and | forgot to stop.” He looked at his watch and discov- ered that it was nearly three; then he realized that he was abjectly tired. ‘“Come on for a swim,”’ she urged him. ““You must be fagged out.” “If you'll wait a minute, I'll change,”’ he said. He came out presently in a swimming suit and they walked silently toward the pool. As they came close to it, Ann ran ahead to the springboard; her arms and legs made an arc of white in the darkness an arc which ended in a splash of silver. He followed and they swam idly about to- gether. Finally they perched upon the edge. “Andy,” said Ann abruptly, “‘I called up my bank in New York this afternoon and told the man who takes charge of my xf- fairs to see if he could buy the M. P. T. company.” “What?” Her head bobbed. ‘‘Of course I was ter- ribly angry with you when I did it, because you wouldn’t let me take the Hornet, but I think I'll go through with it. Why not? It would be good sport. I'll be the P of M. P. T., and you can be the T. Would you like that?” November 6, 1926 He evaded her question. ‘‘You don’t think you could buy Morrison out, do you?” “IT suppose so,’ she answered negli- gently. ‘If I paid enough.” Her answer exasperated him. Several caustic retorts flashed into his mind, but he said nothing. *“Wouldn’t it be better,”’ she asked, ‘‘to keep him in the company?” “Hm-m,” grunted Andy, and said to himself that George Morrison would prob- ably appreciate being kept in a company that he had raised from a pup. A bit pre- sumptuous, this small girl sitting beside him. ‘“‘T’d like to have something to do,”’ con- tinued Ann. ‘I mean something really im- portant. And I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than that. You said one day that the company needed money.”’ “Yes,”’ admitted Andy, ‘‘but I don’t think that Morrison would accept just any one as a partner to get it. Not that you’re just any one. He would want to be mighty sure of the person he took into the com- pany.” “But he’s sure of you, and you'd be pretty much in charge of my share. I don’t see how he could object to that. Do you?” “T’ll talk it over with him, if you’re cer- tain you want to go into it,’”’ said Andy finally. It was true that Umpty needed more capital. He added, ‘‘It’s a good way to drop a bunch of money. Most of us in this business draw our dividends in liking the game. As an investment it isn’t so good.” ““That’s what Mr. Madox at the bank said, but I told him to go ahead with it.” “Even four million won’t last forever if you don’t take care of it.”’ “‘Tt’s worse than four million, Andy,”’ she said plaintively. ‘‘The estate’s been grow- ing for twenty-one years. Oh, it won’t ruin me to drop a little of it, especially if I can have a good time doing it.” “Well, I'll talk with Morrison,” he as- sented. After all, money was money, if it didn’t have too many strings tied to it, and Morrison was competent to speak for him- self. ““You’re not very enthusiastic,’’ com- mented Ann. ‘‘ Would you rather I didn’t do it?” He shrugged. ‘‘I don’t want to feel re- sponsible for your putting money into Umpty. I probably shan’t be with the company much longer. Late in the fall I’m going to start building the turbine. I'l] have enough money to cut loose for a while.” **Do you mean that the lack of money has been holding you back?’’ Ann de- manded in an awed voice, as if such a thing were nearly unthinkable. “Yes. It costs a lot to have parts made, and then, once we get the engine built, there'll be a thousand and one changes. Labor and rent for a shop. Oh, it costs!”’ “But, Andy, I'd love to finance it!’’ She turned upon him impetuously. ‘‘A hun- dred thousand, if you need it! More!”’ He flopped back upon the grass. ‘Oh, good Lord! A hundred thousand!"’ He laughed weakly. ‘‘And I’ve been scratch- ing for two or three thousand!” “Why, Andy!” Her voice was heavy with reproach. ‘And you didn’t tell me. You ought to be ashamed! Won't you please let me help?” He sat up. ‘‘But there’s no need of it.”’ She propped her chin in her hand and stared down at the star-flecked surface of the pool. She sighed deeply. ‘I really would like to do something. I'd like to be terribly interested in something and work at it and watch it grow. I suppose I’ve got a lot of my father in me. He liked te take a little hole in the ground and make it grow into a mine. I don’t think he gave a hoot for the money he made.” She was silent and motionless for nearly a minute. ‘‘Andy.” Yes.” “Will you try to let me have a share in it? It’d beso nice to—to work together on it. Will you?” (Continued on Page 87)

Page 85

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Paramount Guide to the Best eT Wild ALOMA OF THE SOUTH SEAS Rex Beach's PADLOCKED FINE MANNERS THE SHOW-OFF FASCINATING YOUTH Sinclair Lewis’ MANTRAP THE CAMPUS FLIRT TIN GODS NELL GWYN VARIETY DIPLOMACY YOU NEVER KNOW WOMEN HOLD THAT LION Zane Grey's FORLORN RIVER Florenz Zicgfeld's KID BOOTS THE GREAT GATSBY YOU'D BE SURPRISED SO’S YOUR OLD MAN SEA “Starring GILDA GRAY eel With Warner Baxter, William Powell, Julanne Johnston and Percy Marmont With Lois Moran, Louise Dresser and Noah Beery Starring GLORIA SWANSON. Eugene O’Brien is the leading man With Ford Sterling, Lois Wilson, Louise Brooks and George Kelly With Paramount Junior Stars Clara Bow, Ernest Torrence and Percy Marmont Starring BEBE DANIELS Starring THOMAS MEIGHAN With Pringle and Renee Adorec Starring DOROTHY GISH With Emil Jannings and Lya de Putti With Blanche Sweet, Neil Hamilton Marchal, Matt Moore and all-star cast Starring FLORENCE VIDOR With Sherman and Clive Brook Starring DOUGLAS MacLEAN With Jack Holt, Raymond Hatton, Arlette Marchal and Edmund Burns Starring EDDIE CANTOR With Clara Bow Billie Dove and Lawrence Gray With Warner Baxter, Neil Hamilton, Williar Powell, Georgia Hale and Lois Wilson Starring RAYMOND GRIFFITH Starring W. C. FIELDS. With Alice Joy« Charles Rogers Aileen Arlette Lowell Motion Pictures Check the ones you have seen, make a date for the others, and any! Your Theatre Mana leli YOU WHEN, __ DIRECTOR _ DATE Maurice Tourneur Allan Dwan Richard Rosson Malcolm St. Clair Sam Wood Victor Fleming Clarence Badger Allan Dwan Herbert Wilcox E. A. Dupont Marshall! Neilan William Wellman William Beaudine John Waters Frank Tuttle Herbert Brenon Arthur Rosson Gregory La Cava Frank Lloyd A Fam ( 7Uz« Productio From the Story by Lauren t Oe illin vs tal ne th oman us fighting care ( | BK best Ka Produced by D.W. Griffith With Adal ph Menjou as Satan RICARDO CORTEZ, Carol Dempster and Lya de i i of love, temptation and regeneration from Marie ( ar I Beau Geste Romance and Adventure in the French Foreign Legion. New Dork (@ritics say “*T he Year's Greatest ~Melodrama”’ RODUCED by Hexser: Brenon, from the novel by Percival ¢ Wren. With Ronatp Corman, Noah Beery, Netl Hamilton, Ralph Forbes, Norman Trevor, William Powell, Alice Joyce, Mary Brian BOVE are three of many big Paramount productions of the coming season, The two below and those in the chart you car see now or very soon. Your Theatre Manager will tell vou when Harold Lloyd in a New Comedy Watch For the Title |” AGINE and a sheriff’s badge—and a teuc con his hands! W hen his Father goes away Harold plays sheriff Harold with a gun but when Dad comes makes him go through The dreamy country boy m: wood, but not unt | he’s given vou ore laughs than vou can ever member. Produced by Harold Lloyd Corporati Lewis Milestone a Ted Wilde. Com ‘Richard ‘Div The Ouarterback ne soon (omedy-Drama tart when ngainiy

Page 86

84 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 A Finer Chass aera 8 Standard Equipment Includes: if Combination Stop and Tail Light, Automatic Wind- shield Cleaner, Transmission Lock (built-in), Rear View Mirror, Radiator Shutters, Moto-Meter ‘A30 MINUTE

Page 87

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 85 -~aBody of Steel as Rigid as a Steel Building The New Mf if j ESSEX© . | COACH Admiration everywhere is hgard for the New Essex ‘‘6” Coach. Its Bi ve i . ee : > Hi , lustrous beauty and rigid steel body are in themselves worthy the ii £ Mi greatest praise. But a ride is a revelation. No light car can approach’ | BR it. It gives a feeling like riding in a limited train. No car regardless of cost is easier riding. However beautiful a car may be, however attractive its color and trimming, such details in themselves do not constitute the most im- portant quality. It is the Essex chassis that gives it greatest superiority. Its motor, built under exclusive patents, delivers the smooth, power- ful and reliable performance for which the Super-Six is so famous. Every mechanical detail is the development and perfection of more than three years and the production of more than 900,000 cars built on the Super-Six principle. Essex is economical in fuel and oil. It gives enduring and brilliant i service. Easily made adjustments take care of wear. Provision is made for keeping the motor oil clean and cool, and for gasoline strain- 4 Ing, etc. Rumbles and rattles are absent. The chassis is well proportioned in every detail to assure long, hard and constantly satisfactory service. You can drive at top speed for hours. Essex will not shimmy —lIt is safe always. Its motor will stand up under hard usage. Such qualities are not expected in cars of its price. Six cylinders, even those that do not have the Super-Six advantage, cost more. RIDE WILL WIN YOU"

Page 88

Ti) Durability Where Your Car Needs it Most } 7 SATURDAY EVENING POST os 7 Lk ieee Be eee tik J a ‘ e giant fingers of a massive overhead crane manipulate 4250-pound ingots of glowing steel above the fiery mouths of the re-heating furnaces in the Timken steel mill You would hardly think of buying a car or How you would appreciate a way to test the per- truck without testing its performance. manence of that performance. You can tell much from the presence of Timken Bearings. Timken electric steel—is the most enduring steel for carrying motion. It is Timken world’s largest output ot electric steel. TIMKEN The material made in the steel mill—with the THE ROLLER BE i The design—tapered POSITIVELY ALIGNED ROLLS—gives greater thrust and radial ca- pacity, crowds friction to the vanishing point, saves power, and conquers wear. Supreme in both material and design, it is little Roller Bearings are dominating industry—standard wonder that Timken Tapered in all types of industrial machinery and in 91% of the motor vehicles made in America. RENG €O., CARTON, VORIO November 6, 1926

Page 89

THE SATURDAY

| } i { )

(Continued from Page 82) She had drawn her knees up as a rest for her chin, arms twined about her legs, and sat there gazing before her into the dark- ness. The resentment she had stirred in him faded away and he watched her with a feeling of amused tenderness. “We'll talk it over when I get back.” “And you don’t need any money now, for the turbine?” “No, not now.’ She slipped back into the pool. ’ Benson jerked the blocks from the Hor- net’s wheels, swung aboard and the plane lumbered down the field, took off. Some industrious person, perhaps a pilot trying to fill the long hours spent in a hos- pital bed, has figured that four thousand, eight hundred and sixty-one different things may happen to put an unexpected end to an aeroplane’s flight. One of those things hap- pened to the Hornet—the magneto drive shaft snapped and the motor stopped as if the switch had been cut. The plane was scarcely thirty feet from the ground. No chance to turn with a dead motor and re- enter the field—a maneuver which has killed more pilots than any other. Andy put the Hornet’s nose down toward a stone patch. “Going to smash!”’ he yelled. He brought the plane into flying level ten feet over the ground, stalled it a littlo, eased off and let it come down flat in a pan- cake landing. A wheel gave way and the landing gear crumpled. The fabric of the left wing ripped upon some rocks and the Hornet became inert. Andy and Benson hopped out, cursing, and inspected the damage. “‘Not so bad,”’ growled Andy. “Just the landing gear washed out. Pretty lucky.” “‘T’ll say so! Another thirty seconds and we'd have been playing birdie in them trees.” ; “There’s a 7:10 train for New York. I'll hop that. Get Morrison on the phone and order what you need. Mike can come out with the stuff and help you. I'll be back in a couple of days. Got to beat it.” He de- parted on a jog trot for the garage. Morrison, already informed of the acci- dent by telephone, greeted him philosophi- cally. ‘‘Glad you didn’t wash the whole ship out,” he said. “Lucky I didn’t. It was a tight pinch.” He grinned. “Is that good-for-nothing Eleven ready?” “Yes. You might hop over to Burnt Rock and get a line on what they want you to do. There'll be six ships on the line for you to test this afternoon.” “‘T want the best Seven for Ann Paton.” “Buy it?” “Yep.” “Good boy! Been having a nice time?”’ “Yep. Don’t know how I'll ever fit into the rough life of a flying field again.”’ “Say, Andy, the Copper National is sending a man out here to talk business. What do you make of that?” Andy scratched his head thoughtfully and frowned. “I know all about it,” he said. ‘‘Ann Paton’s got an idea she wants to be in the game. She’s got about half the money in the world, and the company needs money, but ” he paused. “That’s just it. But! Not a chance! She'd turn her investment over to the Cop- per National to manage and then we'd have a bunch of bankers telling us how to tly. Tell me some more funny stories!” **No, she’d want me to handle her share.” “Oh!” said Morrison. ‘So that’s it! Ah-ha!”” Andy reddened slightly. ‘“‘And well may you blush!” ‘Don’t be an idiot!’’ snapped Andy. He turned away and started toward the han- gars with Morrison's sardonic “‘Ho-ho!”’ tloating after him. Ann Paton took up the letters which had been brought upon her breakfast tray and glanced over the envelopes hurriedly. Still no word from Andy, and he had been away three days. In exasperation she threw the etters upon the bed and scowled at them; then she selected one, which she knew came from her banker, and slit the envelope. The letter informed her that no shares of the M. P. T. Aircraft Corporation were for sale “Oh!” she breathed, expression thun- derous. Her maid asked if anything were wrong. ‘“‘Yes!’” answered Ann. ‘Go away!”’ She sat bolt upright in bed, glaring out of the windows at the placid summer morning, and told herself that the letter meant, simply, that Andy had advised Morrison against letting her buy an interest in the company. It was disloyal of him, spiteful! Her mind raced through a plan of closing The Crest and going to Europe without so much as a word to him, but she came up against the inalterable fact that she didn’t want to go to Europe. At last, hot and thoroughly disturbed, she went into her bath and let a cold spray beat against her body. By the time she was dry again and in her negligee, the tea was cold and acrid. She rang for more—and in a hurry—and sat down before the window Finally, just as she was expecting fresh tea, there was a rap upon the door and Mrs. Hoyt entered. Ann didn’t want to see her “*Ann, dear,”’ began her duenna, “‘I hope you won't be too upset, but Instead of finishing the sentence, she held out a copy of The Times and pointed toa headline. Ann’s eyes took in the words and she gasped: TORREY, CUP WINNER, HURT IN AIR CRASH The story read: Burnt Rock, August 21 While deliberately wrecking his plane as a motion-picture stunt, Andrew Torrey, winner of last year’s Patterson Cup and Chief Pilot of the M. P. T. Aircraft Corporation, was painfully injured here yester day afternoon. Doctors attending him at the local hospital said last night that his recovery is assured if no internal injuries develop. Torrey was completing the sequence of a pic ture story which called for the wrecking of his plane, and spun close to earth before a battery of cameras. At the first touch of his wheels upon the ground the landing carriage gave way, throwing the plane upon its left wing and whipping it over in a gigantic cart wheel. Mem bers of the picture company, astounded at the unexpected reality of the wreck, failed to realize at first that the pilot had been injured. When released from the wreckage, Torrey, who was counted among the aces in the Great War, was unconscious . . right arm, collar bone and three ribs broken, besides numerous cuts and bruises about the head and shoul ders . . . explained later that the landing carriage had proved unexpectedly weal : appeared relieved that the wreck had been a uccess and laughed as he got a glimpse of it while being lifted into the ambulance. ee Ann had grown pale and the paper flut- tered in her hands. ‘“‘ Yes,” hollow, ‘“‘Andy said he was going to do some stunt for the movies. Tough luck. I -I'd better be getting dressed.” She managed to get Mrs. Hoyt out of the room and stood there for a moment, knees wabbly. She rang for her maid. “‘Get Benson up here,”’ she ordered. “He and the other man went fishing on the lake early this morning,’ answered the woman. “I saw them go. They said the plane was all repaired and they borrowed the station wagon.” “Then get Pertsch! In a hurry!” Ann was in her flying clothes by the time the chauffeur arrived. She turned upon him. ‘**Pertsch, you've got to get the Hornet started! You've got to! Do you under- stand?” “Yes, Miss Paton. I think I can. Mr. Torrey showed me the other day. It’s sort of atrick. But “Come on, then!” They ran across the lawn toward the landing field. Ann felt her knees still wab- ling, and she remembered that she had eaten no breakfast. She tried to tell her- self that the faintness would pass away Her hands shook as she took up the squirt gun to inject gasoline into the exhaust as Pertsch drew the propeller backward. Then she scrambled up to the cockpit. The chauffeur looked at her beseechingly. “Miss Paton, honest, I don’t think you ougnt to!” “Swing it over!” she said, voice ordered Ann EVENING POST Reluctantly he backed away, took a fly- ing leap at the propel! taught him to do, and put his whole weight and strength into it. The blade swung over obediently, but the engine did not start Ann, in a panic, thrown the switcl ‘Again!” Once more Pertsch backed away and jumped for the propeller. The engine took. It roared demoniacally. Ann had never realized quite how much noise that motor could make. Her heart was pumping furi- ously; it was like a trout leaping inside her. And she felt weak. Pertsch’s eyes seemed to be staring at her out of a great opalescent mist. Then she thought of Andy Searcely knowing what she was d Ann put her hand out and felt numbly for the switch, pulled it. The engine stop} “Pertsch, I can't,’”’ she said weakly. “I can't do it.””. She started to get out of the plane and he grabbed her to keep her from falling. ‘‘I guess I’ve lost my nerve,”’ she said with a flat, nervous little laugh. “You better sit down.” “I'm all right. Come on. We'll make it in the car—to Burnt Rock, Long Island.”’ r blade, as Andy had discovered that she hadn't She put it on contact Ne} sne caiied, “‘Andy, why did you take a chance like that?” Ann, tired and hot, face dusty from the long ride, sat crumpled beside the bed. Andy, a considerable part of his face hidden in bandages and much of him in plaster cast, took a comforting puff of a cigarette “IT needed another thousand for the tur- bine,”” he answered ““Andy!” she exclaimed “After I'd told you I'd love to let you have all the money you could possi need! To do that! “T can earn my own money,” he replied “*T have ever since I was fifteen. The aero turbine is mine, and any money that go¢ into it is going to be mine too.”

For a thousand dollars! Her voice rose in protest “But that’ silly! It’s—it’s cruel! When I have so much, and you need it and * Her voice broke and she sat there, abje tis miserable, looking at him He remained moment “Ann,” he said, “‘there are lots of things it the world you can’t buy. You can't buy George Morrison's pride in Umpty. You can’t buy my freedom to go along in my own way and work as I see fit. When people create something, build something, silent for a it means a lot more than just the mone vir it. Money doesn’t make much d There’s something else, and it can’t be Don’t you understand Te rence bought and sold that?” Her eyes were downcast and her chir trembled slightly. ‘I suppose so,"’ she said in a dull voice. She rested her elbows upor the bed, put her chin in her hands and gazed morosely at the gray wall. ‘Andy, I tried to take the Hornet again, when | heard that you’d been hurt. I wanted to get here just as soon as I could.’

He stared at her, dumfounde Her eyes refused to meet his “Pertsch got it started,’ ne went or unemotionally, “‘but I lost my nerve ; couldn't do it! 1 I was afraid. And I'n horribly afraid about everything. I mear about life. I don’t know what to do and | haven't got anything that’s worth having and * She ended in a little wail, her head went down upon the bed and wa buried in her arms Ar ay took one ol limp hands in his, pressed it ““Andy,”’ she said at last, in a voice tragedy, “if 1 promise never to do thing you tell me not to do, can’t we go on being friends? Very close friends? Will you for give me? “Of course we're going to be friends! Ann ‘n’ Andy! Her hand squeezed his. “I'll be ever so good!”’ she exclaimed He chuckled deeply and winced as the chuckle beat against broken ribs ‘Ann, dear,”’ he said, very tender ‘first of all promise me that you won’ to be too good. You couldn't stand it Neither could I It wouldn't be Ann

“You pay for a Twin- plex every year, why not have one?” “y "| ” How do I pay for one? if e lik t ou | TX hve pack es Of Diades a yea I aid ss | At the end of t af u | ‘ thing to s! vf - < { ’ oO \ t pack ides I x Stropper sp tthe same t the first year, t you would e y r ] x whi is for at least te t e.”” i va it the ives? W derful —Y package of t Ie y ft t est ~ I t r! Dette § es a juarter tie ds lik . t \ r t rely ( ve a Twir stot f t Eve ir fter the ot Tw I t t t. Car tr i , \\ i ou iw I < t s ft Ar © ¢ 1 of thir \ kr \ " < get tr ‘ ict better t} i ? itt k rWINPLEX SALES CO. 1654 Locust Street, Saint Louis

dinplex Stroppers FOR HIS NAMI WINN! RS of the — 2 plex ‘*What’s Name?” Contest will b« announced in The Saturday, Evening Post of lan. 8,1927

LOOK

Page 90

And THE SATURDAY noW . Star-rite Ol1b. electric iron In Canada $5.00 The Proof of the Iron is What it Does It balances perfectly. This means easier and better ironing—no drag. It has a comfortable handle—can be clasped firmly—no effort. Surface is like plate-glass—insuring smooth iron- ing—and the slender, pointed tip is just right for ruffles, laces, and the more delicate pieces. Make This Test Yourself Hundreds of words couldn't tell you how good this really 1s. There's only one way to know, and that is tO test it yourself Attach this tron—let it heat for a few minutes—set it on a piece of white paper, and see the brown im- pression. Notice that the tip is browner than any other section. That means the tip of the iron 1s this distribution of heat means perfect Every woman knows that good ironing is difficult nless the tip—which meets the damp, cool cloth first s hotter than the rest of the iron We want you to make this test of the new Srar-Rite It’s an iron you'd, gladly iv more for—but you don't have to. The Star-Rite complete for service at $3.95 Iron, and see how good 1t i f the iron is what it does—not what it r-Rite Iron—then compare tts mod- ite ECTRICAL NECESSITIES Fitzgerald Manufacturing Company, Torrington, Conn. Canadian Fitzgerald Co., 95 King Street, East, Toronto, Ont. MAKERS OF THE FAMOUS NEVER-LEAK CYLINDER HEAD GASKETS FITZGERALD MANUFACTURING CO.,, Torrington, Conn STAR-Rite Folder EVENING POST November 6, 1926 THE MAD LOVER (Continued from Page 33) round in a wheel, till he runs down and leaves his money to found a lot of schools which will go on preaching the same old bunk that made a squirrel out of him.”’ “Sonia, you know you'd hate to have to make your own clothes or dig your own potatoes,” remarked Gerald. ‘‘Somebody must work.” ‘But we don’t have to. That’s our luck. We are free to enjoy life. Why not do it?” “‘But do we enjoy ourselves—really?”’ “You certainly are in a high and holy mood tonight, Jerry Shannon. Of course we have good times. We know how.” “But, Sonia, don’t you ever feel—well, sort of unnecessary and futile? It seems to me that lately I’ve spent a lot of time getting blurry with liquor soI won’t have to think about things.” “‘4 sound scheme, if you ask me,” said Sonia Brotherton. ‘“‘But you don’t need to be an ostrich and hide your head in the sand, Jerry. You can face yourself better than most men.” “Do you really think so, Sonia?” “T do,” she said. ‘“‘I think you're a strong man, Jerry. You need to grow up a little, that’s all, and learn not to let people | put foolish notions in your head. It was | some woman, I'll bet, who got you in this state. She just didn’t know you.” “Do you think you do?”’ “TI think I do, Jerry,” smiled at him. “Sonia,” he said, ‘“‘you are beautiful, when you smile like that, with the light on your hair.’”” He came toward her. ‘‘ You're an entirely lovely creature,”’ he said. Her eyes encouraged him. He bent and kissed her lips and found them warm and unre- sisting. ‘‘I love you, Sonia,’’ he whispered. He held her close. ‘I’ve found you,” he said. ‘‘ Tonight—for the first time. I want you to believe in me, Sonia. I'll try to be strong for your sake. And I want you to love me.”’ Her answer was to hold her lips again to his. ‘‘Now you know,”’ she murmured. “‘T wish,” he said, ‘that we could always be happy—like this.” “Oh, Jerry, if we only could!” “We can. We must be together, loving each other always,”’ he said. ‘‘Tell me you want to do that, Sonia dearest.”’ “*T do,”’ she breathed. “You angel!”’ He kissed her. ‘‘Look here,’ he exclaimed, “I’ve a_ gigantic thought. Let’s go way together, you and I, tonight—now. My car’s outside.” “I’m glad you want to,”’ Sonia smiled. “So do I. But we must be sensible.” “*We could dig up somebody who'd marry us,”” he said. She shook her head. ‘‘Why don’t you, Sonia?” he asked. ““You’ll think I’m a romantic fool replied, ‘“‘but don’t you see, dear, love and all that goes with it is the most important part of a woman’s life? Jerry, I'd like a wedding, a real one, with orange blossoms and all the rest.” “My darling! How beautiful you'll look in white.” “‘Then you're not cross with me?” “How could I be? But, dearest, you mustn’t ask me to wait long.” “Three weeks.” ““They would be endless. One week.” “But, dear, my clothes—they’ll take time.” ““One week,” he repeated firmly. “*T suppose,” she said, ‘I could wait till we got to Paris to get the rest of my trousseau.”” He became suddenly grave. “Sonia dear- est,”” he said, “I’m afraid we won't be going to Paris.” “But it would be so wonderful. Think of it— Paris, the Riviera, Venice, and on our honeymoon!” “Yes, it would be heavenly. But Sonia said, and ” she “What is it, Jerry?” “Sonia, I’m afraid I proposed to you under false pretenses.” ‘“*What on earth are you talking about?” “First, let me ask you again: You be- lieve in me, don’t you?” “Of course, dear.” ** And you want me to be a strong man?” “You are one.” “I mean, you’d like to see me—well, do something?”’ ““Do something?” *‘T mean,” he said, ‘“‘something that will make you proud of me.” “Tam proud of you, darling.” “T want to give you some real reason for being.” ““How do you mean?” “Sonia, I hope with all my heart you'll see this thing the way I do. You said a lit- tle while ago I should grow up. I want to. I’m going to stop being a perennial play boy and try to do some sort of real work.” She frowned ever so slightly. ‘‘That idea again?” she said. ‘‘But I thought we'd settled that. Your life is running smoothly. Why tamper with it?” “That’s just it,”” he said. ‘It runs too smoothly. No contrasts. A silly, futile sort of life, that’s what we'd drift into. It would be dangerous.”’ “How so?” **Sonia, you know what happens when a couple has too much money and no work to do. The marriage is apt to go to pieces. No real interests. No solid basis.” “Jerry, you read that somewhere,” she said. ‘It sounds like a bright bit from a book called Advice to a Young Couple About to Enter into Holy Wedlock.” “It’s sense, wherever it came from,” he retorted. ‘‘Look at some of the couples we know. Look at the Dudleys, the Carstairs, the Rickards, the ‘a ““You’ve given enough horrible exam- ples,”’ she interrupted. ‘‘But we need not be like them, Jerry.” ‘‘We'’re not so different from them,” he said. ‘‘We'd be living the same sort of life—gin and parties and a lot of time on our hands; and then, mostly because we'd be bored, cheap love affairs and scandal and a mess all round.” ‘‘What an optimistic lover you are! And so flattering too!” ‘Please don’t get sore, Sonia. You said we must be sensible. I’m trying to be. We don’t want to take any chance with any- thing that might hurt our love, do we?” ‘Of course not. But I still don’t see what you want to do.” “I want our marriage to be a partner- ship,” he said. “So do 1.” “Fifty-fifty.” ** Absolutely!” “Good! You're going to be with me, helping me, no matter how hard it is.”’ ““Why should it be hard?”’ she asked. ““We may be rather poor at first,’’ he said. ‘“‘ But we won't be always, I hope.”’ “Poor? Jerry, you haven't quarreled with your father?”’ “No.” “Then why do you talk of being poor? You don’t mean that you think your father will disinherit you for marrying me?” “Certainly not, Sonia.” “Then what do you mean?” “Simply this,”” he answered: ‘‘ You can call me foolish or impulsive, if you will, but I know I’m doing the right thing for our happiness. I haven’t thought about it very long, I admit, but it’s hit me so hard, I’m sure I’m right.” “What?” ‘Sonia, I’m going to work—on my own.” She stared at him; a ripple of concern crossed her brow. “Doing what?” she in- quired. Continued on Page 90)

Page 91

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Gaining the Respect of the Nation 4: - > Improved Star Four The New Star Six COMMERCIAL ‘ CHASSIS. . . . . $650 CHASSIS . . . $470 TOURING . . . . ($725 CONVERTIBLE HAYES-HUNT COUPE... $820 ROADSTER . . $550 ie 8 TOURING ... . $550 BODIES TROADSIER. 9910 COUPE... . . . $675 — SEDAN .... . $975 COACH. ... . . $695 = SPORT COUPE . . $995 SEDAN... . . . $795 ‘ LANDAU . - + $995 ; COMPOUND FLEETRUCK Prices f. o. b. Lansing TON CHASSIS . . . $975 + DURANT MOTORS, INC., 250 West 57th Street, New York City General Sales Department, 1819 Broadway, New York City Plants: Elizabeth, N. J. Oakland, Cal. Lansing, Mich. Toronto, Ont. Dealers and Service Stations throughout the United States, Canada and Mexico See the Star Car exhibit at the Sesqui-Centennial Exposition, Philadelphia Low~cost Transportation

Page 92

Remington, “No handle to turn— No motor to buy” [3)374 $0.30 PLEASE PAY CASHIER The New Remington Check- Printing Register ~ Xv, incwes customers served, par- cels wrapped, or iden- tifies the clerk who made the sale. A Superior Machine at Moderate Cost ERE are some points wherein the new Remington Check-Printing Cash Register is superior to all others f 7197$0.30 It is the only register on which simple pressure . , : , JOHN DOE & CO. of the key rings up and records the sale, prints and issues the check. Speediest to operate. No | — handie to turn, no motor to buy Pits town tienittiee your store. It can be It is the only check printer on which all oper- “sed 484 premium cou pon. ations, adjustments, and replenishments are made from the front. It takes up less counter space than any other check printer Check paper can be changed in 10 seconds f 2 206 $0 30 It is the only check-printing register that makes “ : YOUR RECEIPT a complete daily report on sales and prints it It is the lowest priced register that automati- V prints and is suesacheck. It combines these Another popular form and additional advantages with many exclusive of check. features through which other types of Reming- tons have already done so much toward simpli- fying store systems “The actual size of check Learn how much more a modern Remington _ is1% inches by 15s inches.” before you buy a cash register \ complete line of up-to-date Remingtons is or ile in the principal cities of the United States and in Toronto and Vancouver, Canada. REMINGTON CASH REGISTER Co., IN« if encral Sales Office lion N y Remington Arms Co, In i Ammunition and Cutlery trea Remington, cash registers THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 88) “Real work.”’ “Tn your father’s company?’”’ He shook his head. ‘‘No,”’ he said. “I want to stand on my own feet. That’s the only way for me. I’ve been a professional son all my life, living off my father. Yes, that’s what it has amounted to. If I went in with him, I'd still be just a son, coddled along; I'd be just playing at working. You know, I hate halfway measures, Sonia. I want to make my own way, in my own way.” “But, Jerry, what could you do? Sell bonds?”’ “No; that doesn’t interest me. I want to be a builder.” “Of what?” “‘Anything—everything,”’ he said, with growing excitement. “‘ Listen, Sonia. We’re going to have a fine adventure, you and I. I’m beginning to see the details now. I had a letter from a man on the Coast who says there’s a building boom on out there now. It’s a great field. We'll go there and ——”’ “But we don’t know anyone there,”’ she said. ‘All the better. We’ll soon make friends. Don’t you see, dearest, we’ll be pioneers, in a way? We'll make our own friends and our own life.” She pursed her lips. ‘“‘Jerry,’’ she said, “T’m afraid your enthusiasm has run away with you.” “But, darling, don’t you see it?” “I’m afraid not. I don’t believe you’ve really considered it. Frankly, Jerry, it sounds like a rather wild and impractical notion.” “It’s not,” he returned. “It’s a big one. We love each other, and we'd work to- gether. We could build up a real life, and be ever so much happier than if we stayed in Branton and frittered away our lives on booze and balls and things we really didn’t care anything about.” She sat studying his face. ‘‘Do you really mean you want to do this, Jerry?”’ she said. “I do, Sonia—with all my heart, I do. I know it will be best for us and our love. We must do it.” “But, Jerry, we’re not fitted for that sort of life, either of us.” “We're not so old we can’t adapt our- selves to it,’ hesaid, with asmile. “If we're strong, we'll come through.” “It’s mighty pleasant here in Branton.” ‘“‘We would never be free in Branton. We'd slip back into the old life in no time. You know that.” “The old life is pretty good.” “The new life will be better. You'll see,”’ he said. ‘We'll be doing something —to- gether. Sonia ” “Yes, dear?”’ “T said I’d proposed to you under false pretenses. I should have told you all this first, but— well, you’re so beautiful and wonderful and I love you so much, I just rushed into the middle of things. But now you know what I want to do, what I feel I must do. I’ll ask you all over again. Will you marry me and come with me?” She looked at him a long time through half-shut eyes. ‘“‘I want you to do what you think will make you happy,”’ she said. “T knew it!” he cried. “‘I knew it!’’ And he crushed her in his arms. ‘‘Oh, Sonia, my dearest love, I knew I could count on your understanding. We'll be so happy.” “IT hope so, Jerry. Now I think you'd better go home. Tomorrow we can make plans.” “It will be a year till tomorrow,”’ he said. “Must I go already?” She smiled. ‘‘ Yes.’ She kissed him. He pressed her to him. ‘Good night, Jerry dear.”’ “Good night, my own Sonia.” Gerald Shannon drove back to his apart- ment at a pace which, for him, was slow. He was in a state of exalted bewilderment. He could feel Sonia's lips still, like warm silk, against his. It was instinct that had taken him to her that night, and he knew now, he told himself, that the instinct was November 6, 1926 a right one. Sonia was wonderful. She understood him, loved him. All the pain of his meeting with Irene was gone now; even the memory of it seemed dim, as if it had happened a long time ago. He pushed the memory out of his mind; he had no time for memories now. A gate was opening ahead of him; he must make ready to enter it. He reached his apartment. From the low, sad sounds which issued from Hondo’s room, Gerald deduced that Hondo was still up, and was softly and diligently practicing his flute lesson. He called Hondo. **Yiss, Mis’ Boss?” “Call me early, Hondo, for I’m to be queen of the May.” Hondo, theimperturbable, bowed. “‘Yiss, Mis’ Boss. Ten ’clock?’’ “‘No; very early—say, half-past eight.” “‘Yiss, Mis’ Boss,’’ said Hondo, and by the barest flicker of an eyebrow betrayed surprise. “Hondo,” said Gerald, ‘‘did it ever oc- cur to you that this is a funny world?”’ ‘*Yiss, Mis’ Boss.”’ “That man, the genus homo, is often something of a cuckoo?” ““Yiss, Mis’ Boss.” “Did you ever speculate on how inscru- table and unfathomable is the awful and mysterious chemistry of love?” “IT dunno, Mis’ Boss.” “Did it ever occur to you that I am a most peculiar man?” Hondo inclined a grinning head. “‘ Yiss, Mis’ Boss.”’ “I’m in no position to deny it,” said Gerald Shannon. ‘ Does it not strike you, Hondo, that only a highly peculiar man, in- deed, could start out of an evening to be- come engaged to one lady and come home engaged to an entirely different one? I ask you now, should such a man be permitted to be at large, or should he be confined in an institution with padded walls, or what should be done with him?” “*Yiss, Mis’ Boss.”’ “Be sure to call me at half-past eight, Hondo. I’ve a large and festive day ahead of me.”’ ““Yiss, Mis’ Boss. What you like for breakfast?” “You may serve me,” said Gerald, “creamed rosebuds on toast and poached cherub wings. Good night, Hondo.” He vanished into his bedroom. Hondo went out to the kitchen, took down his fat- test cookbook and began studiously to pore over its pages. Mr. Thomas Waterlow had as nice a taste in dogs as he had in cravats. He kept abreast of the canine mode, and he would just as soon have appeared on the streets of Branton at high noon in a dinner jacket and a red tie as with an unfashionable dog. If pugs were the fashion, he had pugs. If Poms, Poms. When New York society leaders placed their cachet on large, leggy, caterpillar-faced objects called Schnauser-Pinschers, Tommy Waterlow ordered one by wire, at once, and felt quite uncomfortable until it arrived. It arrived that morning, and Tommy Water- low broke a habit of many years’ standing and rose before nine to motor to the station to get the animal in person. So proud was he of his new possession that he strolled over to Sonia Brotherton’s house to exhibit it. There was only a chance that Mrs. Brotherton would be awake so early, but Tommy manfully took it. She, surprisingly, was awake and having her breakfast. “‘’Morning, Tommy. I just phoned you.” “Really? Well, here I am, bright, gay and at your service.” ‘Tommy, I’ve news for you.” “But, Sonia,” he said, ‘‘aren’t you going to notice Baden-Baden?” “Oh, the hound? Yes. Very comical. But let me tell you the news.” ‘“‘There’s news every day,” Tommy said, “but the first Schnauser-Pinscher in Bran- ton is an epoch-making event.” (Continued on Page 92

Page 93

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST — Caan Eyes on the rails, testing hammer in hand, the track walker His patrol is then reduced in length, the number of his by day inspects the railroad’s right of way and makes minor repairs. At night his task requires even more skill. SENTRIES who guard a front 11000 miles long OU HAVE probably never noticed him, even though you have traveled many thousands of miles by rail. Or if your eye has been caught by the glow of his lantern, dwindling rapidly as you whirled on into the night, you have probably not known why he was there, plodding steadily down the ties with his gaze fixed on the gleaming rails. But within a short interval of time before your train speeds over any individual rail on the Pennsyl- vania main lines, one of this army of two thousand watchers has examined with practised eye that rail, its joints, and the foundation that holds it. Day and night, in baking heat or driving blizzard, more than 2000 Trained Men patrol the Pennsylvania’s right of way » » The track walker is the outpost of an army of 200,000 Pennsylvania men whose job it is to speed the flow of the nation’s traffic, and keep it safe and on time. H‘ guardianship is duplicated and supplemented by every practica- ble safety device: automatic signals at Carries more passengers, hauls freight than any other railroad in America Pid % f 9 ie : sf a sg ae ra tours is increased, and all his attention is concentrated on safeguarding the long trains that rush by in the darkness. frequent intervals that work with un- canny accuracy and dependability; two, four, six, even eight tracks at points of intense activity; watchers in a thousand signal towers who con- stantly direct the course of each train as it speeds over the road. N this way is safeguarded the pas- I sage of 3800 passenger trains each day—from the famous Broadway Limited to the modest little accom- modation chugging up through the mountains—carrying every year a number of passengers larger than the total population of the North Ameri- can Continent—carrying them with remarkable safety and regularity. more PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD

Page 94

0) 37) LMR aS ry oe |

4, 4 i q Ke 2] Ss 4 2 ; ; P| |

It matters a lot if Middishade or not VERY Middishade is a Blue Serge Suit, but all blue serge suits are not Middishades. @] There’s more than a color to Middishade. There’s a wonderful serge to start with, 32 masterfully styled models, costly tailoring--and a guarantee that 7S a guarantee! And a popular price. @ The only way to make sure of getting all these things is to look for the Middishade label. It takes the “blue sky”’ out of blue serge suit buying. Middistripe, too—same serge with a neat stripe. Send for style book and samples of serge. . THE MIDDISHADE CO., Inc. - PHILADELPHIA 6 eNUing 7 + e i ee a Yergical Specialists operating on @dep Riue Serge Suits only MIpn’ + y Di SH <- Ups, “© Serge WDE : ,. co Sun we, if ideproof MIDDISHADE ") Blue Serge Suits | | | Tommy Waterlow.

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 90) “The beast can wait,’”’ said Sonia. “There isn’t news like mine every day, “Uncork it,’”’ he said. “But, mind you, it must be good news. A jolly scandal, for choice.” ‘Gerald and I are engaged,”’ said Sonia. Tommy Waterlow gave out an exclama- tion of dismay. ‘‘That ruins my day,” he said. Then added, ‘‘Oh, I suppose it was inevitable, and I congratulate you and Jerry, and wish you long life and happiness | and this, that and the other. But it means that poor old Tommy gets his heart broken once more.” “Tommy, I’m touched,”’ said Sonia, nib- bling toast, “‘but I’ve an idea you'll re- cover. If you have a heart at all, it’s been | broken so often it must look like crackle- ware.” “‘T suppose,”’ said Tommy mournfully, “T’ll have to be best man and stand around | looking as pleased as a cat at a rats’ picnic, while the lucky Shannon leads you to the altar. Well, if I must, I must, but I’ll get | royally broiled at the wedding breakfast, I promise you that.” “You always do, “T’ll outdo myself,” ” said Sonia. said Tommy. ‘Oh, | well, life is always turning to cold tripe and horse-radish on me.”’ “Poor Tommy. Have a cup of coffee?” “Yes; with a touch of carbolic and two lumps of arsenic.” “Sorry, but I’ve only cream and sugar.” “Very well. Thanks.” He sipped the coffee. “I'll say this,’”’ he remarked: “it’s a high-class egg you’ve landed, Sonia.” She raised her slender’ eyebrows. ““TLanded’ is hardly a _ tactful word, Tommy.” “Sorry. This is tactless Thursday. When does the gladsome event take place?” “In about a week.” “With all the trimmings?” “Every last trimming.” I'll give you Baden-Baden for a wed- ding present. He’s a one-man dog, but from the way he nipped me just now, I’m not the man. You shall have him, to re- mind you of me.” “Thank you, Tommy. You're a darling. But I couldn’t take the creature. Give me a couple of cases of canned beans instead. We won't be able to feed the lovely brute.” “What?” “Can't afford such luxuries,”’ she said. ““Dear me, Sonia,’” Tommy said, “has the old man gone bankrupt?” ‘““No, it isn’t quite so bad as that. It’s Jerry. He’s planning to turn useful on me. Talks of love in a cottage, with him laying bricks and me baking pies.”’ “Was he tight?” “‘Not a bit. He meant it.” Tommy laughed. ‘Jerry gets that way once in a while,” he said. ‘Boils up with sudden alarming enthusiasms, but simmers down in no time. If he ever does any more work than squirting Seltzer into a tall glass, you may safely call me a porcupine.” “Do you really think that, Tommy?” Sonia Brotherton asked. “Know it, my dear lady. Don’t you worry. I know him—and I know you.” “What have I to do with it?” “T venture to predict,’ said Tommy, “that you'll have a very great deal to do with it. Those little hands of yours look soft, but I’ve a sneaking theory they know how to twist a man the way you want him to go.” ‘Tommy, you're positively brutal!”’ “Oh, dear,” sighed Tommy, “women are always mistaking candor for brutality. Forgive me if I seem to sound like the scorned suitor getting in a few last dirty digs. I really have a most kindly feeling toward you, Sonia, even though you ap- pear to prefer this wild Irishman to me. I know you’re a smart woman-—a lot smarter, if I may say so, than the excellent fellow whois shortly to become your spouse. He'll end by doing exactly what you want him to do, mark my words. You'll never have to touch off a single pie, and you'll

November 6, 1926

soon persuade him out of his present pas- sion for honest toil, or whatever it is that ails him. Just what does he want to do anyhow?” ““Go West,”’ she answered perfectly poisonous place. To start a career for himself. Of course I said I'd go.” “Of course you would,” said Tommy. “What else could you say? Still, even if you dogo you couldstand it foratime. They probably have at least one good country club and half a dozen civilized people out there. You'd be the queen of the place in a year and fling some parties that will have the natives pale and gasping.”’ “What with?” “Charm and coin.” “You don’t grasp the idea, Tommy. Jerry is fearfully earnest about this. At least he was last night. No halfway meas- ures for him, said he. He talks of starting at scratch—pioneer stuff—with life in a three-dollar bungalow apron for Sonia.”’ Tommy grinned all over his rotund face **T’ll bet Baden-Baden against a deceased alley cat you'll make Jerry listen to rea- son,” hesaid. “I can’t understand, though, why you ever agreed to any such astound- ing scheme.” “Tommy,” said Sonia. “I don’t believe you ever were really in love.” “Young woman, [invented the pastime,”’ he said. ‘‘Wish I had had it patented Smart people know how to carry their love So please don’t try to bamboozle the an- cient and canny Thomas.” “What do you mean?” She said it sharply. “T mean, my charming Sonia, that | think it is not unlikely that you had your fingers crossed."” Her look made him add hastily, ‘“‘Subconsciously, of course—sub- consciously. And I, for one, don’t blame you.” ‘Tommy,” she said icily, “you are being extremely unpleasant. If you don’t stop it, you can take that hound and yourself out of here.” ‘Please don’t have a tantrum, Sonia,’ he said. ‘‘I’m entirely in sympathy with you, believe me. Branton would be a desert of ashes and old razor blades without you We'd miss Jerry too. You and he are its chief ornaments, and I hope will continue to be. In fact, I’m sure you will.” ‘““Why are you sure?” “IT know Jerry. It seems to me I've made that remark before. He’s a cham pagne man.” ““What do you mean?” “Shake him up and pull out the cork and wo-o-osh—he shoots up to the ceiling: but let him stand a while and he quiets down. You'll know how to handle him.” ‘Thank you.” “Oh, you'll have a job doing it. He'll get this bug-—or some other one—every now and then. He'll need the touch of a woman’s hand to keep him from trying to fly to the moon to see if it’s really made of Gorgonzola. But you know your world, Sonia, and you'll see to it that he does the “to some sane and proper thing.” She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee ‘Do you know, Tommy,” she said, “‘ you’ve a lot more sense than a casual observer might think.”’ ‘““Many thanks. That delicate bit of flattery will help me to get through the day Now I must take man’s best friend and be on my way.” She gave him an affectionate pat on the arm. ‘‘Let’s always be good friends, Tommy,” she said. “By all means. Come, Baden-Baden.’ He paused a moment atthe door. “Shall I keep it a secret,’’ he asked, ‘“‘or may I tell the world?” “You'll tell anyhow,” ““How well we understand each othe said Tommy Waterlow, and sauntered out and down the street to show his new dog to the Talbot girl, and to tell her his news laughed Sonia Gerald Shannon woke that morning at 8:30. Hondo knocked at his door. Gerald hauieied out of bed Continued on Page 94

Page 95

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST NOT ONE AMERICAN CAR LASTS .AS LONG AS REO * NOT Three extra years to use or sell that cost you nothing HIS is a measure of Reo’s lead- ership in endurance —a bigger percentage of Reo’s past eight years’ production is now in use than of the total automobile indusctry’s past five years’ production. Three extra years of life in Reo that cost you nothing. Other Proofs of Reo Leadership Reo’s proud distinction of being America’s longest lasting car has been proved by the comparison of produc- tion figures with registration figures .... the popular method. It has been unquestionably estab- lished by the scientific actuarial meth- od of determining how many cars of each year’s production should still be running and comparing those figures with actual registrations that .. .. Not One American Car Lasts As Long As Reo, Not One. What Three Extra Years of Life Mean to You 1-—-The added life built into each Reo means greater treedom from re- pairs or replacements... . otherwise Reos would not be kept SO long 2—It means lasting beauty ot de- sign —or Reos would be discarded tor newer models much more quickly. 3—-It means comfort that lasts be- cause springs endure, appointments and coverings wear and wear.... otherwise Reos would be abandoned because travel in them became toil. '4—It means tar lower cost of de- preciation per mile because Reo re- sale value is always high, due to the great number of unused miles of trans- portation remaining in them. 5 —It means that operating costs on a Reo are low, and remain low through- out its longer lite—or Reos would not be kept running. 6-—In addition, there are the' great savings in cost, and in freedom trom layups of your car, made possible by Reo construction. And three extra years touse or sell that cost you nothing Plan to See a Reo Today Compare Reo construction with that of any car you wish. Judge its very good looks tor \ ourselt, Ride in it. Drive it. You'll be pleasantly sur- prised at what you can buy for a mod erate price--PLUS three extra years to use or sell that cost you nothing. ONE Get the Truth About Lone Standard Coupe oil aad Go ag a &- $14 ‘ ° The klet, **How Standard Sedan $1565 : . Automobiles Really | Special Sedan $1745 a LANSING ~*~ MICHIGAN Special Roadster S1605 Prices at Lansing. plus tax REO MOTOR CAR COMPANY

Page 96

You never tasted such flavor! Whole wheat at its best! Bring your briskest appetite to breakfast. You'll relish every spoonful of this tempting, golden Roasted and toasted to nut-like delicious- ness. Such flavor as you never have tasted in any other food. feast. Let your family benefit from these healthful, whole wheat nutriments in Wheatena: Protezns for body-building; Carbohydrates for energy; Mineral Salts for bone and tissue; Bran for safe regulation; Vitamin B for growth; Vitamin E for vital energy abundant in the golden heart of wheat and re- tained for you in Wheatena. Why not have all this nourishment for break- fast tomorrow ! Children love it! No coaxing—no wheedling necessary. Chil- dren love Wheatena’s whole wheat flavor. They never tire of it and often want second helpings. So easily digested that doctors recommend W heatena for children as young as seven months. Wheatena The delicious whole wheat cereal On your table in three minutes, at less than 2 cents a pound package of Wheatena and recipe book. Write The Wheatena Company, |, Wheatenaville, Rahway, N. J or NT THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 92) “T could not cookem dish you asked for,” said Hondo sadly. ‘‘So I fixem bacon- eggs.” “Splendid,” said Gerald. ‘‘ We'll have the poached cherub wings another time. Great day, isn’t it?”’ “*Yiss, Mis’ Boss.” “Have we a covey of wildcats in the larder?” “No, Mis’ Boss.” “Too bad. I could lick ’em this morning. That’s how I feel. And I didn’t get to sleep till after three either. Bring on the coffee, Hondo.” He had, indeed, lain awake for hours. He'd been thinking, planning. ‘‘Get Mrs. Brotherton on the telephone,” he directed. “*Yiss, Mis’ Boss.” “‘No, don’t do that. She won’t be awake yet. Instead, trot round to the florist and have him send some flowers to her.” “Yiss, Mis’ Boss. What kind flowers? Gellaniums?”’ “No, not geraniums— orchids.”’ “Yiss, Mis’ Boss. How many?” “‘Oh, a hundred dollars’ worth.” “*Yiss, Mis’ Boss. I go.” “Wait. I’ve changed my mind. him send her a bunch of violets bunch.” ““Yiss, Mis’ Boss,”’ said Hondo, bowing himself out. He called up Harry Carstairs. ‘‘ Morn- ing, Harry, This is Jerry. How are you?” Mr. Carstairs answered “ Rotten,’”’ and went into detail. His head, he asserted, was as big as a prize pumpkin and was full of surly wasps. He was sure his tongue had turned to chinchilla during the night. He hoped, he said, that it would be a lesson to him not to mix Alexander cream cocktails and untamed applejack. He finished by asking Gerald what the devil he meant by ringing a man up at daybreak. “It’s after nine, Harry,” said Gerald. “I want to talk business with you, and it can’t wait. You made me an offer for my polo ponies last week. Do youstill want them?” “Yes. The whole string?” “Right! Sold!” ‘“‘What’s up, Jerry? Getting a new lot?” “No. Go back to sleep. Good-by.”’ He dressed and set forth. He moved briskly, with the air of a man of affairs. He nodded and smiled to most passers-by, whether he knew them or not, and to all policemen. He was thinking to himself that his life was taking shape at last, and he was well pleased. When he looked in at his father’s office in the Shannon Building, a secretary there told him that Kevin Shannon was working at home that day. “‘I suppose I shouldn’t disturb him,’’ he said. ‘‘Thanks. Good day.” Going down in the elevator, he debated whether he should go to his fathér’s house. He frowned a bit as he admitted to himself that the real reason he did not want to go there was that he wished to avoid meeting Irene Thorne. He weighed the reason. Why should he wish to avoid her? What did it matter? It didn’t, he concluded. was a man of action now. his father’s house. Annie Lawler’s two hundred and thirty pounds answered his ring. She conducted him to the door of his father’s room. There he hesitated, for inside he could hear his father dictating a letter to Irene Thorne. Gerald waited half a minute, then knocked. Kevin Shannon greeted him warmly. Irene Thorne bowed and turned her atten- tion to her notes. She was pale, he thought. “Could I havea little of your time, dad?”’ he asked. “Sure! Something special?” “Very special,”’ he said. He glanced to- ward Irene and discovered that she was watching him. “Do you mind if Irene stays?” Kevin Shannon. “Well,” said Gerald, “‘my business is rather personal.” “T’ll go,” Irene Thorne said, and left the Have a small Moreover, he He hurried to asked room. November 6, 1926 It was all of an hour later when Gerald Shannon came out of his father’s room. Kevin Shannon’s long arm rested on his son’s shoulder. “‘Good-by, Jerry,”’ he said, “and good luck to you.” “‘Good-by, dad.’”” They shook hands. “Aren't you going to say good-by to Irene?’ Kevin Shannon asked. “I'm afraid I'll have to hop along. Lots to do,” said Gerald hastily. Kevin Shannon gave his son a parting pat on the shoulder and returned to his room and his work. As Gerald Shannon walked down the hall toward the front door, he met Irene Thorne. She had just come down the front stairs. She started when she saw him, and drew back. He stopped. “T’m sorry,” she said. had gone.”’ “‘Just going,” he said. ‘‘Good-by.” “*Good-by,” she said, not looking at him. As she turned her head away he could see that her face was set and white. He stood there irresolute. He was held there. Al- most without knowing what he was doing, he held out his hand to her. “You mustn’t hate me, Irene,” he said in a low voice. She looked at him then with her dark, unwavering eyes. She saw his hand and took it. ‘‘I don’t hate you, Jerry,”’ she said. “You may hate me for what I’ve said, but I can never hate you.” He felt her hand trembling in his. ‘I don’t hate you, Irene,” he burst out. “a Oh, damn it all, what a fool I am!” Then, with a sudden swift motion, he bent and kissed her—a short, fierce kiss on the lips. Then he threw open the front door, dashed out and slammed it shut behind him. His motor car plunged away from the curb in front of his father’s house. It was headed in the opposite direction from the one he intended to take, but he did not notice this until he had gone several blocks. When he did, he yanked the car to a stop and parked by the side of the street. He sat there, staring through the windshield and seeing nothing. He was shaken. Gerald Shannon’s sensation was that of a man who sees a stranger do a series of bizarre and unaccountable acts, and then abruptly realizes that the stranger is him- self. He put his hand to his head to assure himself that he had one. He remembered how when the enemy planes had been circling about him in the air, he had set his jaw and had muttered, ‘Steady, Jerry! Take it easy, old boy! Keep your bean!” He tried that now. It didn’t seem to work. Airplanes were material things whose behavior he could gauge. But this situation had no rules, no rime, no reason in it. Thinking didn’t seem to help. Try- ing to reason the thing out left him badly confused. What was the matter with him? Was it love? Was this the way a man in love acted? It didn’t make sense at all—what he had done and the way he felt. He loved Sonia, of course, he told himself, and was going to marry her. He most certainly was not going to marry Irene Thorne. That was settled. And yet there he sat, think- ing of Irene Thorne, of her pale face and the look in her dark eyes, and their kiss, and the memory stirred him. He must pull himself together. He could not sit there all day, staring through his windshield. Passers-by would think him unbalanced or drunk, or both. It struck him that he had better hurry to Sonia. He did not like the way he put it to himself. ‘Had better’’ smacked of duty. By every law of romance he should be eagerly speed- ing to her side at that very moment. Yet there he sat, incapable of motion, a mile and more from her house. He struggled to cast out of his mind a rankling heresy which tried to intrude there, and it was that he felt, just then, no imperious urge to go to Sonia. “T thought you Continued on Page 97

Page 97

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The New Big Six Metropolitan Sedan “1595 f. o. b. Cleveland formerly $1955 NE thing sure, the new 1927 Chandler certainly shows the world that the finest cars are not always the costliest —nor the costliest car always the finest. There’s endless talk, talk, talk about beauty { in the automobile business—but you can i see that Chandler-beauty has a certain modernism, a fashionableness, much more appealing than the everyday design of the ‘ average car in the rank and file of traffic. You also hear the word “comfort” used freely and indiscriminately in behalf of all i kinds of motor cars — but Chandler-comfort \’ is something else again, as different as a il parlor-car differs from a day-coach! You hear the cry of “power” often enough, too—but the mightiness of Chandler-power is really something to crow about. In steep hill-climbing or any other contest of perform- ance, the odds are certainly with Chandler to win! The new 1927 Chandler is, don’t forget, the only car in its price class that offers you the priceless advantage of centralized chassis lubrication. Every one of the nineteen new models has the Chandler “One Shot” tem, whereby a mere press of your heel on a plunger lubricates the entire chassis! Sys- Other great advantages offered in all models (without a penny’s extra cost) include such features as an air cleaner; an oil puri- fier; 4-wheel brakes; thermostatic cooling; self-adjusting spring shackles, etc., etc., etc. We urge you not to commit yourself in the purchase of a new motor car until you have seen and driven the new Chandler. 19 Greater New Models — *945 to $1795 cisisi CHANDLER-CLEVELAND MOTORS CORPORATION, CLEVELAND; CHANDLER Export Department, 1819 Broadway, New SHOWING THE WORLD something finer and smarter York City

Page 98

O06 A The new N N O U AN AUTOMATIC RADIO “A” POWER UNIT that gives you full “A” battery power all the time from your electric light socket Here's the “A” battery power unit that you've been waiting for—a unit that not only gives you full “A” power all the time, but which is absolutely automatic in its operation Attach it to your set, push a plug into the nearest electric light socket and then forget it When you switch on your radio set, the power of a fine, fully charged Prest-O-Lite Radio Storage Battery flows through your tubes. The kind of power that brings in the distant stations loud and clear. When you switch off your set, the dry, Pret-O Lite TRIKL-AUTOMATIC THE SATURDAY EVENING POST N C I N silent, powerful trickle-charger automatically goes to work replenishing the current used. No more bothersome charging or testing to determine condition of battery. No longer will a rundown “A” battery spoil your radio. There’s a Prest-O-Lite dealer near you, or if you write us we will gladly send you more complete details. THE PREST-O-LITE © O., Tuc. INDIANAPOLIS, IND New York San Francisco In ( ja: P Toronto. Ontar t-O-Lite C y of Canada, Ltd., T sia). hd November 6, 1926 c 3 Operates automati- cally from any electric light socket push I nit electric light socket all you need do The battery. A standar Prest-O-Lite Radi lutely d ] ual needs. Economical house current N get out of order. h the unit plug int solutely dry. Silent ir ation. Adjustable to individ ample capacity Strongly built. Leak-pr POWER UNIT Se

Page 99

| a ee | (Continued from Page 94) He shook his head jerkily from side to side, the gesture of a groggy fighter who seeks to clear his brain. His eye lit on the clock set in his dashboard. Nearly noon. So much to do. In action, he must forget his thoughts. He straightened up, started the motor and sent his car humming toward Sonia Brotherton’s house. She was not at home. Somehow, when he heard it, Gerald Shannon experienced a sensation of relief. She had left a note for him, though: Jerry Dearest: I simply had to go to the dressmaker. I'll be busy there all day. You and I are dining—alone—at my house at 7:30. Until then, YOUR LOVING SONIA. He tucked the note in his vest pocket and turned away. It was luncheon time, but he did not go to the club. Instead, he had a sandwich and a glass of milk at a soda fountain. He finishes his luncheon in two bites and three gulps, and launched him- self into an afternoon of feverish activity. At 7:25 he arrived at Sonia Brotherton’s house. She was lovely in an evening gown of pale rose, and he took her in his arms and kissed her many times. ‘“ Do you still love me, Sonia?”’ he asked. “‘Of course, dearest.” “I’m so glad.” “You look a bit fagged, Jerry.’ “T’ve had a strenuous day.” “Doing what?” “I’m going to tell you. It’s a surprise. But tell me again that you love me.”’ She kissed him. ‘‘ You’re sure?”’ he asked. “Certain.” “And always will?” “Tea.” “*No matter what?” ‘“‘No matter what.” ‘Lord, I’m lucky!” he said. “‘Now let’s have some cocktails,’’ Sonia said. They were served in the engraved sil- ver shaker Gerald had given her for her birthday. ‘I’m wearing your violets, you see,’ she said. “It was sweet of you to send them.” ‘““They’re a symbol,” he said. “Of what?” ‘‘Our new life. I was going to send or- chids. Then I decided that we must get out of the orchid habit. We can’t be at all ex- travagant for a while, dear.” She refilled his glass. Silently she re- garded him, as he sat there in an old suit of brown tweed. Then she said, ‘‘ You didn’t dress for dinner. That’s another sign of the simple life, I suppose.” ‘“Yes; and there are other signs too.” Dinner was announced. ‘‘Let’s not be serious during dinner,’’ Sonia said. ‘*There’ll be time enough for that after- Ww ard.”’ ‘All right,’”’ he agreed. ‘‘Suppose you tell me all about what you did today.” “Such a day!” she said. “I’ve been measured and pinned until I feel like a ruin.” ‘*You look divine,” he said. “Darling, I think you'll love my new dresses.”’ ‘“*Tell me about them.” She described them until his mind was a maze of chiffon, crépe de chine and the colors of the rainbow. After dinner they went into the drawing-room for coffee and creme de menthe. “*You said something about a surprise,” she reminded him. He stood facing her. ‘“‘I’ve done it,”’ he “What?” “Cut myself loose from the apron trings.”’ “Oh, Jerry, what have you rushed into?” “‘Sonia, you know me. When I do any- thing, I like to do it up to the hilt. Last night you said you’d stand by me and help me make something of myself, entirely on my own. Well, I’m on my own now—and I feel free and glad.” Her lips tightened. ‘‘What have you done, exactly?” ‘Today I told dad. I told him I was go- ing to marry you, and he gave me his bless- ng. I told him that from this day on I'll THE SATURDAY take no more money from him—not a cent I'm going to swim—or sink.” “‘What did he say?”’ she asked quickly “Didn't he object?” “He balked at first. Even said he'd like to increase my allowance. But I convinced him that I meant business and that I'd be happier on my own. Dad's a very wise and understanding man. I think he’s pleased with my decision. It was hard to get him to agree to change his will though.” “His will? You didn’t ask him to change it?” “Yes, Sonia. Don’t you see, dear, I'd be just bluffing at being independent if I knew all the time that as soon as dad died I'd come in for a whacking big fortune? So I persuaded dad, after mother was well pro- vided for, to leave most of his money to Branton for parks and schools.”’ “And nothing to you?”’ “Not so much as the price of a top hat,”’ Gerald said proudly. “Oh, Jerry!” ““Why, Sonia, what’s the matter?” “*Y ou do dash into things like a man who has lost his senses.” “But we agreed “IT know—I know,” she said impatiently. “But I never thought Oh, well, you’ve gone and done it.” “Tt isn’t going to matter to us,”’ he said. “We're going to make our own fortune. Lord, I had a tough day today! Giving up Hondo was the hardest thing I had to do. Ken Stuart is going to take him. Harry Carstairs took my ponies. Parker Howland bought my cars, and gypped me prettily on the price. You'd have laughed to see dad's face when I turned the money over to him.”’ “Did you do that?”’ “Of course. All or nothing. That's our motto, you know. Now for the rest of the surprise.”’ “Wait till I’ve had a drink. Your sur- prises are so violent.” “‘T hope this one will please you,”’ Gerald said. ‘‘Sonia, we’re going away — tonight.” ‘““What are you saying?” “T know we talked of a big wedding,” he said. ‘I hate to disappoint you about that. But don’t you see, we can’t have an elab- orate wedding and all the things which go with wealth, because we're not wealthy? It will be much more fun this way, going away together in the night, like true lovers, instead of parading through a lot of stuffy ceremonies and formalities. Look here, dear.”” He fished into his pocket and drew out papers. ‘‘See those?’ he cried dramat- ically. ‘‘This is a marriage license. These things are tickets West. I’ve planned everything. I've located a parson in Whiteford Junction who is all signed up to marry us any time before midnight. At nine minutes past twelve the Chicago Ex- press stops at the junction. I’ve engaged a stateroom. My bags are in Ken Stuart's car outside. He loaned it to me for the night. I haven’t told a soul about this, of course. Come on, dear, I think you’d bet- ter start packing now. I'll help. We haven't such oceans of time.” “Jerry!” “Lord, you startled me, Sonia, crying out like that!” “Sit down.” “You'd better start packing.” “I’m not going to.” “But, Sonia ¥ “How could you have acted so foolishly : You might have consulted me.” ‘But last night ‘“‘We didn’t agree to lose our heads com- pletely. One of us has to be sane. We can’t do a crazy thing like this.” “It isn’t crazy. It’s an adventure. It will be beautiful.” “Oh, you talk like a romantic school- boy!” she exclaimed. ‘“‘ You should know, at your age, how life is really lived. It’s folly to hurl yourself into half-baked schemes like this and trust to luck you'll come out all right.” “Sonia, I’m afraid you don’t love me.”’ “Don’t be silly. Of course I do.” “You thought I didn’t mean to go through with this.” EVENING POST he lovely smiling MOouTH of YOUTH Proud to smile When you know your smile reveals attractive teeth, your poise be- comes half your charm. Pebeco's tingling after- feeling is your assurance that your whole mouth is healthy, that your breath is always pure and fresh. YOURS ALWAYS if you renew each day the vigor of your Mouth Glands ~- .; Where you must reach the tiny mouth glands Even while we are children, the important mouth glands —the numbers show where they are, three on each side — begin to slow up. They must be kept active, for they are the real guardians of the teeth. They should be working day and night to protect the whole mouth. The fluids they produce wash away food deposits and counteract the acids in the mouth PEBECO keeps the SO MUCH DEPENDS on six little glands in your mouth! When your Mouth Glands are active, they pour out natural fluids to protect your teeth and gums. But unless we watch out, the mouth glands slow up—and decay begins. For it is hard chewing that keeps the mouth glands active, and the cooked oie we eat need litthe chewing. From lack of proper exercise, the mouth glands gradually cease producing their natural fluids. It was to correct just this, that the formula for Pebeco Tooth Paste was perfected. 5 7 7 Brush your teeth with Pebeco. Feel its soft salt crystals dissolve. Taste the slightly salty fluids that leave the whole mouth tingling, cleansing the teeth and gums even where the tooth brush cannot reach. Pebeco renews for you the healthy, smiling Mouth of Youth. Its steady use keeps the mouth glands always active, your whole mouth lovely. Made by Pebeco, Inc. A Division of Lehn & Fink Prod ucts Company. Sole distributors, Lehn & Fink, Inc., Bloomfield, N. J. In the blue tube, at all druggists FREE OFFER Send coupon today for generous inbe Lehn & Fink Dept. L-59, Inc Bloomfield, N.j Send me free your new large-size sample tube of Pebeco Tooth Paste Name Street City Niate Mouth Glands young * * 7

Page 100

98 Apex Junior —$3-5° A New Dignity in Alarm Clocks In the modern home, where matters of good taste in decoration receive more intelligent at- tention than ever before, the old-fashioned alarm clock is sadly out of place. Ansonia has lifted the alarm clock out of its former humble position to one of dignity. The Apex Junior, with its solid Necrolian bronze case,‘ richly engraved in relief, its sunken dial and raised bronze numerals, gives especially when accompanied by a pair of Necrolian bronze candlesticks) an artistic touch to any room. The cost is only $3.50; radium $4.50. Candlesticks, $3.00 the pair SquareClox from $2.50 to $6.00; radium $1.00 to $1.50 extra. Cases in blue, white, gold and platinum-like finish Different models for light and heavy sleepers. All Ansonia Alarms are good timepieces, and give long and reliable service. You can absolutely depend upon them to wake you at the right time Be sure to look for them at jeu- elers’, department or drug stores. idian Distributors—Lyman:, Montreal and Toront Prices in Canada are a bit higher ANSONIA SwaRt PRec Square Pirate—$2.50 Booklet sent upon request ANSONIA CLOCK COMPANY Makers for Half a Century 7th Ave. & 12th St., Dept. P. Brooklyn, N.Y. ANSONIA means CLOCKS THE ot Fine Clock ee | gineering, but I'll bet THE SATURDAY “T thought you had more sense than to dive in the way you have.” “‘That’s my way,” he said. “It’s a brainless way,”’ she said. ‘‘ Thank heaven, it isn’t too late to change things.” “IT don’t want to change them.” “T’m not going with you then—under these conditions.” “Oh, Sonia ad “Have you thought,” she said, ‘what this noble gesture of yours would cost me? Have you any real conception of what it means to be poor?” “We wouldn't be poor long,” he said. ““How do you know? Chances are we'd be poor altogether too long. What can you do? You’ve had some slight training in en- you've forgotten most of it. You're not in the habit of working. You've never had to do without things. You're a spoiled child, pitching | yourself into a sort of life you don’t at all understand. Let me tell you, Jerry Shan- non, poverty has ruined a lot more mar- riages than wealth ever has. I know.” He stared at her, and would have tried to say something, but she went on: ‘Let me finish what I have to say. Be- ing poor is a weary, heartbreaking business. Nothing rusts romance so quickly as bills. Remember, I was brought up in a poor family. I’ve known the humiliation of hav- ing to sell old family furniture to pay the butcher. It was lack of money that turned my first marriage into a tragedy. I stood life in a nasty little flat, cooking liver over a gas plate, wearing cheap clothes, just as long as I could. The drudgery and bleak- | ness of it broke my spirit. Paul and I both became cross and irritable, and began to | all to pieces. Once a man—a business friend of Paul’s—sent me a dozen pairs of silk stock- ings. I was very young, and some people thought me pretty, and I loved pretty clothes. Paul was furious when he found out about it. After that our marriage went He wasn’t really to blame. I wasn’t really to blame. It was money.” ““You poor darling,” said Gerald. “T’m not going to take that risk again,” Sonia said. ‘I’ve certain standards now. Ralph Brotherton made a lot of money and he spent it freely. He gave me everything I asked for. I’m not cut out to be a poor man’s wife. If I had an income of my own, it would be different.” “T thought you had,” said Gerald. ‘I was going to talk to you about it.” “And suggest I give it up, I suppose. Well, I haven’t one. I managed to save a few bonds out of Ralph’s crash, and with them I’ve kept up appearances. They’re about exhausted now.” “*Sonia,”” said Gerald, “I know I’m ask- ing a hard thing of you. It won’t be easy for me either. But it will be best. We'll be poor together for a while, and then, unless I’m a dud, we'll be more prosperous, and we'll be a lot happier, because every- thing we'll have we will have made our- quarrel. selves.’ “More schoolboy talk,”’ she “Haven't I made it clear to you how I feel? said. EVENING POST I cannot—I will not be poor again. Surely there is a middle ground.” “That would be compromising,’ Gerald said. ‘“‘ You've said I’m strong, and I like to think I am, but I know how it would be. If I start out on this new life as a sort of half-pay remittance man, I'll be just weak enough to slide back into a complete state of dependence again. Sonia, the decision I've made is a mighty important thing to me. Help me stick to my guns.” **You must change your mind,”’ she said. “Jerry dear, please listen to Sonia. Be guided by her experience. After all, you’re only a big, impulsive boy and you don’t know so very much about life. There’s a boat sailing for Paris a week from today. Let’s take it, you and I. I think I could make you very happy, Jerry.”” She came to him, put her arms around him, lifted a pleading face to his. His body and face were tense. ‘‘Please,’’ she whispered, ‘‘for Sonia.” “T can't,” he said huskily. “I can’t.” “For me?” ‘Please, please, Sonia, don’t ask it of me. I can’t turn back now.” She held him away from her. “I think I see,’’ she said, ‘‘how much you really care for me.” “Lord, Sonia,”’ he groaned. for you. It’s youwhodon'’t really care ‘“Let me go,”’ she said. “It’s no use, Jerry. I’m not going with vou. If you'll be sensible, yes. But if you won’t— well, I just can’t do it, that’s all.” “Sonia,” he said, “‘I don’t want to lose you this way. But I’m sure—as sure as I’m standing here—that if I married you and lived the life you want me to, I’d lose you, and I'd lose myself. I’m heartsick about it all. But there is no other way for me now.” She held out her hand. ‘‘ We'd better say good night,”’ she said. ‘‘I hate scenes.” “Try to understand—and be patient with me,” he said. ‘‘Some day si “‘ Jerry, you say you like to do things de- cisively, all the way. You’ve made your decision. I’ve made mine. That seems to settle matters. Good night.” He stood there a moment, trying to find words for the conflict within him; then, without a word, he shook her hand, turned and left her. When he had gone, Sonia Brotherton looked at herself in the drawing-room mirror. Witha deft lipstick she renewed the color in her lips. She shrugged her white shoulders. Then she went to her telephone: “Hello, Tommy.” ‘“Why, Sonia, is there a fire?”’ “No. What are you doing? ‘Just sitting around with Baden-Baden, drinking and moaning,” he said. ““Come on over and drink and moan with me.” “Charming notion, and I'd love to; but what about Jerry? He might get jealous and pop me in the nose.” “It doesn’t matter about him any more.” “Oh, I say! Well, strike me pink! So something is up?” “IT am,” Sonia said. ““T do care ” November 6, 1926 “Pour me out a glass of nectar,”’ said Tommy Waterlow. “I’m coming right over.” Gerald Shannon drove his borrowed car straight to his father’s house. No light showed there. He had expected that, had hoped for it. He stole across the lawn to the shrubbery beside the house, and be- neath a window called, “‘Irene! Irene!” In the moonlight he saw her rumpled black head at the window. ‘‘Irene,”’ he called softly, ‘it’s I, Jerry.” “What do you want?” It was like her, he thought, not to alarmed. ‘I must see you.” “Now?” “Right now.” “Why don’t you come into the house?”’ “It would be a pity to waste the moon- light. Are you coming?”’ ‘I’m not dressed.” “Slip on a coat.” “All right.’”” Presently she came to him, wrapped in a long cloak. ‘Anything the matter, Jerry?’’ she asked. ‘‘Are you in trouble?” “Yes you.” “Well, here I am.” “It isn’t much I have to say,” he said, speaking low. ‘‘Only this: I love you, Irene.” She started back. ‘‘ Now, Jerry “*T had to tell you tonight,”’ he said, “ be- cause I’m going away.” ‘“Where?” “T don’t know.” “For long?”’ “T don’t know.” “But, Jerry “I’m mad tonight. I'm raving. Bats are dancing in my dome. I’m full of wild schemes and lunatic dreams. I’m going away. I’m going to do things. I don’t know what. Some day I may tell you That’s all, Irene. You know I love you That’s what I came to tell you.” She was about to speak, when he stopped her: “I know what you think of me. I don’t expect you to love measIam. I can't ask anything of you—-now. But if you'll wait—a little while—a year——oh, if you’d do that a He saw her smiling in the moonlight. “I wish you'd tell me what you think of do- ing,’ she said. “I’m going to hunt for the golden fleece,”’ he said. “‘I’m going to make a paper row- boat and row to the moon. I'm going to follow the rainbow. I can’t tell you more than that.” ‘*And when you do what you plan to?”’ “Then you'll know,” he said. “*T’ll be waiting to hear,” she said. He kissed her then, just once. night, my heart’s darling,” he said. Quickly, then, he sprang away, and went dancing across the lawn to his car, while Irene Thorne stood there in the moonlight, and her eyes were very bright. e I mean no. Irene, I must talk to “*Good TO BE CONCLUDED) SHORT TURNS AND ENCORES drainage ditch. And now look at her! Calls herself a Shasta daisy, and is always talking about her foreign blood. Great, big, over- grown thing! Enough to give you the blight to hear her talk.” ““Mydear! And haveyouseenanything to equal the alligator pearsinceshe changed her name to the avocado?” replied a calla lily. “Nasty stuck-up creature! What did she do that for?”’ “You know what they say? Avocado means lawyer in Spanish, and down in Florida all the alligators have been re- placed by lawyers.”’ The poppy chuckled. ‘Reminds me of the grapefruit. I can remember when she was just a shaddock, and nobody would eat shaddocks except Florida hogs. Now they’ve changed their name to grapefruit, Continued from Page 36) and everybody eats them except Florida hogs.” ‘It just shows how much a name can do for you. The only difference between a mushmelon and a cantaloupe is fifteen cents. The business men have taken homely old pie plant and got her into society by calling her rhubarb. And, my dear, surely you know the old name of the Brazil nut?” The flower bed swayed and rippled with mirth. A dahlia, whose disagreeable smell Burbank banished but whose disagreeable character he could not change, snarled evilly: ‘*See what business is doing to the old families! It’s bringing in all sorts of strange new creatures, plumcots, logan- berries, and pomatos. I suppose the egg- plant growers will force the public to call their product Globes 0’ Dusk. Good old punkin, a sound, unpretentious fellow if there ever was one, will probably be dressed up in tissue paper and marketed as the Digesto Joyball. Business is stamping out all our old family traditions. What chance has hairy vetch got in modern competition, with that name? Call him a yummibean and he'll do better in business, even though he forgets his ancestors!”’ Miss Cabot awoke with a start, her face crimson. Her name had once been Rosen- thal, but she had changed it for business reasons. She had given up a name meaning ‘valley of roses”’ for the name of that fa- miliar and uninviting fish, the bullhead. But perhaps there was a certain rightness in it. She reminded one more of a bullhead than a rose. Morris Bishop. =

Page 101

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST . pests . cURTICS Peters Pan STO | a 5B: - ae =i | . . won A, A AT i J x in me wee a Leadership “All Curtiss Candies are good candies. The same wonderful quality which has earned for Baby Ruth national popularity and undisputed domi- nance in its field, will be found in our other popular sellers — Peter Pan, Milk Nut Loaf, Ostrich Egg and Cocoanut Grove. They areall pure and wholesome for they are made of fresh milk, pure sugar,crisp nutsand rich chocolate.” Otto Y. Schnering, I resident. “Buy Baby Ruth by the box” CURTISS CANDY COMPANY CHICAGO

Page 102

mi Pe uggy e SS id HEN you take your best girl for a ride and you are all dolled up in your Buck Jack, something is going to happen—you are either going to stop on the way and buy her one, or come home minus your own. And it’s no wonder! Buck Jack has your sweaters, flannel shirts and coats lashed tothe mast. WARMER than a sweater, convenient as a shirt, and far, far cheaper than a coat— that’s Buck Jack! And as for looks—Oh, Man! give me a Buck Jack in all its blazing glory. 26 PE! 8 op iit ind depending on weight and quality of material WARM, fleecy, all-wool fabrics—hundreds of them. Hefty, stout flan nels, tightly woven, that won't let the c-c-cold wind through. And what Colors! Rich warm Reds —Gulf Blues-—-Hemiock Greens, Yellows brilliant as sunlight—Colors that glow and flame Gay-colored Buck Jack with 100° pure worsted belt, double stitched seams, convertible collar two oversize flap pockets, and two-button adjust able cuffs. And colors, Col ors and More COLORS! Now don't send for my catalog album unless you want to start a regular Buck Jack fever in your town. In case your dealer hasn't a Buck Jack left use the coupon and you can order from my Family atalog show Jacks in their with prices, and « Buck Skein Joe, c/o Lustherg, Nast &Co.,Inc. |. Dept. S-11, 351 Broadway, N. Y. C. % copy of your : howing Buck lease a Free wsthe famous ‘. $4 and Buck erns and prices +4 | high and dry. | cook. me, by George. But a dagger in the form of humor had been plunged into the little girl’s side. She | dived down, bent double in a paroxysm of | unseemly mirth. Homer was confronted by a maiden aunt’s vengeful countenance. The lady’s eyes showed frightful white all | round the eyeballs ‘Well, as a matter of fact,’’ he said now, throwing out a big cloud of smoke, “I'll probably have a busy day tomorrow. J. K. is in financial straits, he tells me; and here I am with twenty men and forty horses, Short a pay roll. I'll have to drive through and have a talk with Thaxter, I guess.” But he had not gone when she came home from church at noon next day. Instead, he had busied himself getting dinner on to He waited on her by inches when she would permit. Yet he must know she didn’t actually love him, she reflected. His patience was enormous. He told her now that she was religion enough for any man. “You tell me that black is white, and I'll believe you,”’ he stated. ‘I wouldn’t need to sit an hour and have that preached into ” As soon as dinner was over he wanted her | to go and see the Jewetts with him. Mrs. | Jewett was boarding some of his men, and his horses were in her stable. But Allie was reluctant. He seemed to have no concep- tion, she breathed, of the damage he had | done to Minnie Jewett’s heart by his unex- pected marriage. Everybody was saying that Minnie’s latest vagaries were all the product of a woman's natural despair at being thrown over by the man she loved. It was true that Homer had been friendly enough with Minnie; he still was; he had been seen in public with her. Propinquity, neighborliness, is often three parts of mar- riage, however little it may have to do with love, and Homer Wilkes had certainly been neighborly. When he had given Mrs. Jewett the boarding contract people had said that now the marriage with Minnie was a foregone cone lusion. Now he laughe od Allie’s fears away. ‘*Minnie’s all right. There was never any idea “On your part.” “‘On anybody's part. Min’s got a better man than I am, now going with her. I saw ‘em sitting in that Gloucester hammock on her porch last night.” *“*Who was it?” Captain George Foster, sweet.” Allie felt the rush of a vexatious tide snatching the last hope out of her breast. With dry mouth she tried to mutter indif- ferently: “George Foster? looking man, isn’t he? “Yes. It’s his lumber schooner out there at the dolphin. He owns three four-sixty- fourths in her. He'll take care of her all right.”’ “TI don’t think it could be any satisfac- tion marrying a man who will be away from home all the blessed time,”’ Allie said, wide staring. ‘This George Foster isn’t going to be away from home, though. He means to settle down ashore.” “So he says. I imagine he’s said that to other women in other ports,” Allie said, and would have bitten her tongue off if that could have recalled the words. “‘Can’t say as to that,”” Homer laughed. **One thing certain, he’s got to stop ashore a few weeks, where he’s been drawn on the jury. His name hadn’t been struck off the list, and the town clerk drew it out. He happened to be standing by, and told them to let it go at that. Might as well loaf one place as another, he said. It’s hard for a seagoing man to know what to do, once he sets foot on land.” They were walking slowly toward the Jewett house. It was a gray structure with a long barn, and a lot of blue wheels with rusted rims leaning up against it. One or two old buggies were half lost in weeds He's that dark solid- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST BEYOND Al REASONABLE DOUBT (Continued from Page 9) there. In the driveway stood a frightfully decrepit motor car, which went with the hood ripped away entirely in an effort to air-cool the engine. This was Homer Wilkes’ machine. Allie made a grimace at it. She thought petulantly that where he was doing things on such a big scale he might really not be quite so shambling. It must be the Wilkes in him, the shiftless element, that cared nothing for looks, nothing for externals, nothing for the sensibilities of the women of his household. She was horribly afraid that she would see George Foster’s feet on that porch rail- ing; but the porch was empty. Oleson, the stableman, who had in addition a milk route and got up in the middle of the night to fill his cans, was busy putting a prop under the southeast corner of the barn. His sulky face, with its pale eyes, the clotted red mustache, glared at Homer’s question. ‘““They’re inside, sledging in the prop. Allie had agreed to ride with Homer as far as the river, and come back on the regu- lar bus that ran summertimes in care of Jim Filloon’s younger brother George. Un- til today she had been shy of coming to the Jewetts’ house, fearing they might still harbor resentment for the loss of Homer. Mrs. Jewett at least was cordial enough. ‘Hello, stranger,” she called, coming out through the back door. ‘‘Have you de- serted all your old friends just because you've got to be a married woman? Come in a minute.” Mrs. Jewett was as perfectly amiable where she hated as where she loved. It was a principle of conduct, gracious in itself, but on oceasion misleading to an embar- rassing degree. In the nature of things, she couldn’t feel toward everybody alike. She and Minnie had been prepared to forgive Homer even the sins of the Wilkes family, they would forgive him anything for that mitigating circumstance of his prosperity; but he had dropped off the hook; he had snapped at bait not one whit more allur- ing, in their opinion; and Minnie at least had not been able to feel the same toward him since. ° She was a tall, well-formed girl with a full chin, round dewy eyes, an extreme length of lower limb, it seemed to Allie, who saw her reaching up to hang cups on a line of hooks in the china closet. Her bare knees were slightly chapped, but her hands were like velvet to the touch. She was exces- sively perfumed; a penetrating and auda- cious odor swarmed after her, with a dash of sophistication in it. She inspected her nails during most of the conversation. Mrs. Jewett drew Allie into the sitting room by the hand, beseeching her to sit down, since Homer had a little monkeying with the motor to do. She would have done as much for the Wilkes murderer if he had come to murder her But by this time she had discovered that Allie had no diamond. “Mercy, don’t you know, child, it’s bad luck to take your ring off?” “It doesn’t exist,’’ Allie said calmly. “Everything we have is going into that terrible fill.’’ “Isn’t that a burning shame?” “TI don’t care for jewelry especially,” Allie said. But the strange beauty of her yellow head, poised on those strong shoulders, was augmented by a sudden flush. She hadn’t told the truth. She was mad about jewelry, and about diamonds especially, and Minnie, she knew, could not be ignorant of that fact. “Do you expect me to believe that?” Mrs. Jewett said. She saw Homer lean- ing in the doorway. Not intimidated by his lionlike aspect—there was a dark flush on his own brow— Mrs. Jewett said: “T think the least the men can do is blow themselves a little at the start. You just he muttered, and went November 6,1926 hold on. I want to show you the diamond Moses Jewett brought me from the Argen- tine. I guess you'll think it was what really decided me. Still I never would wear it, be- cause I never had the other things to go with it.” “T've got to catch the ferry, Mrs. ett,’’ Homer said. “You hold your horses. It won’t take a moment. Here’s my safe, right here.”’ The sitting room had formerly been a kitchen, and at the right of the cavernous brick fireplace was the iron door of a brick oven. From a compartmented cigar box in there, full of screws, door hinges, locks, springs and nails, she drew a purse of black leather, and from the purse she rolled out into her hand a diamond in a twist of tissue paper. It was blue white, of three carats or better, and evidently genuine. ‘“‘What’s it worth, do you suppose?” she clucked. Homer Wilkes looked over his shoulder, as if thinking that Oleson might have tracked him in there. “It might be worth anything. It might be worth a thousand or three thousand. There’s no telling what it is worth. I guess it’s valuable enough.” “It goes to Minnie on her wedding day,’ Mrs. Jewett said happily. ‘‘ Here, take it into your hand. It can’t bite you. It’s a diamond of the first water, Mose told me; and when I expostulated with him, he said he had bought it as an investment.” “‘How many people have you showed this to?’’ Homer Wilkes wanted to know, lifting it in his palm for closer inspection. ““You’ll wake up with your throat cut one of these fine mornings, object like that in the house. There’s a rough gang working on this fill.’’ “1 don’t show it only to a selected few,” Mrs. Jewett said. ‘But look here, that’s no place to keep Jew- it. Mrs. Jewett said she would take her chances on that. She had no confidence in banks or vaults, with all the yeggmen there were about. “You don’t know who you can trust nowadays,’ she added. “I guess this oven is as safe as most safes. Nobody would think of looking for a diamond there.” “*Not so long as you keep it dark where you've got it, no,’’ Homer said. ‘But if I had an object like that, I wouldn’t tell my blood brother, Mrs. Jewett.” “IT guess your views of human nature are e well known,”’ she said. ‘Just the same, you find a rat hole, and tuck it in there when nobody’s looking. Why, I’m tempted to muckle onto it my- self where I know its address,’’ he whis- pered, dropping it back in Mrs. Jewett’s hand. “Everybody knows what you think of law,”’ she sniffed. His cynical opinions were common knowledge. And then his record as a dealer in short lobsters was notorious. But aside from this, his prac- tices were ethical enough. The law, he said, had not so much as grazed him yet He began to quote cases where it had leaned over backward in meting out justice to poor devils who didn’t have a friend at court to whisper in the judge’s ear. Mrs. Jewett, who had heard him going on in this strain before, put the diamond back in its purse, and the purse in the cigar box, and the cigar box in the oven; and clanged to the oven door. “Just to show you how much confidence I place in you,” she tittered. And cer- tainly, although he was one of the light- fingered Wilkeses, nobody would ever dream that Homer Wilkes would ever break that law for which he was voicing his contempt. Allie Wilkes went to bed with the vague trouble in her heart increased a thousand- fold. She had the feeling that Homer was Continued on Page 102 = =

Page 103

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ae x, rene reves sfaoie sides nation-wide Cadillac Silver Anniversary Salon opened the eyes of America still more fully to the sharply radical change which Cadillac’s individualization of the automobile introduces into fine car buying. Now the public understands how richly Cadillac, with its 50 Body Styles and Types and its 500 Color and Upholstery Combinations, has, in this, its twenty-fifth year, added to the satisfaction which may be derived from motor car ownership. This new turn which Cadillac has given to the history of the motor car is of much the same im- portance as if, in a world of dreary architectural sameness, the possibility of making every house entirely different were suddenly to relieve the dead monotony. No matter how strongly individual a person may be, he can choose from among the s0 Standard and Cus- tom creations of Cadillac a car that in slightest, most minute detail conforms to his requirements. And that car becomes still more his individual own, when he selects 1ts exterior and interior trim from among the practicaily endless variety of Cadillac’s 500 color and upholstery combinations.

Page 104

COME TO . HAVANA Cub &xquisite Jsle of Delight Y Set like a jewel in a sea of eepest indigo For information apply to any Cuban National Tourist Consul or to the Commission, Havana, Cuba © nagtet and beauty of the trop- ics — romance, tradition — back- ground of an age-old history... gra- cious welcome of a charming people —cultured, fascinating, foreign... carefree, joyous life of a pleasure- loving city — wealthy, luxurious, pro- gressive...new experiences—new sights—new conceptions of the joy of living await you in Cuba. Splendid hotels, theaters, the opera, cafes...dining, dancing, the bril- lant Casino...golf, tennis, hunting, horse racing, jatvalai... fishing, yacht- ——— ming ...motoring on perfect roads.. comforts and attractions are male SS And the climate...eternal sunshine cooled to perpetual springtime by the fragrant trade winds. . (In Cuha even the warmest sum- 1er day 1s made pleasant by the cool trade wind The t mpera ture duriy never rose abot nor fell v 66 degrees.) sf rT \ THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 100) in worse trouble with his contract than he had given her to understand. Not that he was reticent about business matters, as some ridiculous men were with their wives, but unless she asked him outright he didn’t usually bother her with these harassing details. She had understood that every- thing was going as well as he anticipated; he was as confident as ever that he could make the fill, if only J. K. Thaxter’s pocket- book held out. He would not be home until sometime in the middle of the night. Lying by her- self, and listening for the roar of his motor with its novel air-cooling device, she won- dered nervously what success he was having. A kind of pity for him filled her breast. If it had not been for the tanta- lizing figure of Captain Foster on the scene, she admitted to herself, she might be by now half in love with Homer Wilkes. As it was, that dismal sense of bafflement, of life gone wrong, forced into a channel not intended for it, continually haunted her; as did likewise that underlying doubt of Homer himself, a feeling that defeat might make him desperate, might bring out the Wilkes in him. She could see against her eyelids that grim horde of sinister Wilkeses crowding up and filling all the little windowpanes. Her bedroom was on the ground floor; and suddenly, self-reliant woman though she was, she felt scared and unprotected. In turning restlessly, her elbow knocked against the painted wooden headboard of the bed; she sat up rigid, the whirling fragment of a silly ghost story dancing in her blood. A little fog shower pattered on the leaves outside the window, held open by a little half screen in two sliding panels. Exactly then she heard the sound of Homer’s motor. She sank back, reassured at once, and pretended to be asleep when he camestumbling into the room, knocking against chair legs and other impish articles of furniture. He undressed in the dark, whistling under his breath; and from this she drew the inference that he had had good luck with J. K. Thaxter. When she opened her eyes it was morn- ing, and Homer Wilkes was up and dressed, and crouched at the low glass brushing his hair. A discarded shirt of his was hanging from the bedpost, she noticed with a frown. His untidiness was a specific Wilkes trait. “How did you come out?” she mur- mured, with her eyes closing again. ‘*Finer’n frog hair,”’ he cried, whirling on her. ‘‘We'’ve got the money, Allie, with a red rubber band around it.”’ “J. K. advance it?” “No, J. K.’s in a hell of a dilemma.” “Who did then?” ““Man you don’t know, tain George Foster.” George Foster. Allie let one foot fall out of bed, and instantly in her nightdress of yellow crépe de chine was standing bolt upright a few paces from the bed, her yellow hair tumbling in her eyes. “‘Captain— George Foster. the man you mentioned as having liking for Minnie Jewett?” “Yes, same man. As a matter of fact, I guess it might have been Minnie that had kept him up to that time of night when I ran across him.”’ ‘You ran across him? “Yes. Sitting on that settee in front of the grocery. Seems he’d been looking the fill over, and he offered to come in of his own accord.” He swarmed with curious details. Thax- ter had been hopeless, as he had feared; but then coming home, Homer had run across Captain George Foster in the ferry. Foster’s car was two or three cars ahead of Homer's, but the two men met in the smoking room. There had been plenty of time to talk because the ferry had broken a link in one of its after rudder chains, and there was time out for repairs. Foster hadn’t agreed to come in then; he had done that later sitting on the settee in front of Waldron’s; but the hopes he aroused by his I guess. A Cap- You mean takena ” EVENING POST interested attitude had made Homer forget that his radiator needed water; and the car had boiled dry when he had got about opposite the Jewetts’. **T had to break and enter,” he chuckled, “‘to get a piece of rope to lower a can down into that well across the way from the house, and after all, I had to get out my chains from under the seat to sink the neck of that can down under the water.” “But you say—George Foster will ad- vance it?” “*T’ll have the money by noon today, yes, with a red rubber band around it.”’ ‘I didn’t know you knew him.” “T never did. But he’s a mighty ap- proachable man, I can tell you.”’ When he came back, near noon, he slipped a diamond on her finger, which he had got of the local jeweler. “Let's see wifat the old iady will say to that,” he shouted. “How can you be so reckless with money advanced to you?”’ she murmured. “Didn’t pay cash down for it,’’ he said, lee ining forward on his big bared forearms. “Only I can see my way out of the woods now, Allie.”’ She felt that she was a silly woman to harbor resentment against such a man. Naturally, if he had spent his money to hush up Melviny’s crime, he had not done it simply to get an old lady out of trouble. Allie Sorensen had been his consolation prize, certainly. He had confessed to her that if he had had a million he would have parted with it to get her in his hands. His naiveté was perfectly dreadful, a thing as shocking as his irreligion. But having got this far, he had stuck fast; he was abashed at her sulks, as she could readily see; his gayety was the pose of a man secretly non- plused, and even apprehensive. Melviny, sticking her head through the doorway, broke the oppressive silence by saying that a man was waiting at the back door to see Mr. Wilkes. “T’m a much-sought-after man days,’’ Homer said hilariously. He got up and went out. Allie stared at the diamond shining on her finger. Was she the kind of woman to think better of a man simply be- cause he gratified an impulse to heap jewels on her, which he could ill afford? Her mind returned to the image of the benefactor, George Foster. She had half a mind to seek him out and ask him de- liberately why he had made this strange loan to Homer Wilkes. Without having had the least assurance of it, from that one look of his in Waldron’s grocery, she never- theless felt that Foster repented her mar- riage as bitterly as she did herself, and perhaps his share in the quarrel which had, by a kind of inexorable process, led up to it. If Homer Wilkes could ke banished from the earth, that would not displease Cap- tain Foster, she was certain; yet he had sought him out in the middle of the night and lent him money. Or—was Homer lying to her? All her dark thoughts of the Wilkeses flooded over her again. Had there been ~— transac- tion which Homer was unwilling she should know; and had he playfully inserted the name of Captain Foster into his narration to disconcert her and blind her to the real issue? She was minded to seek Foster out at once and ask him point-blank if he had let Homer have the money. But then she remembered that this Monday, the day he began his court attendance. She re- called now that when Homer had started on his way to Thaxter’s she had reproved him for negotiating business on Sunday. ‘The better the day, the better the deed,” he had chuckled. He could be warmly loyal to friends, or to somebody like Allie Sorensen, whom he could take in his arms and reason with; but principles, laws, stiff-necked customs, all such invisibles he shouldered away contemptuously. In his view, in all the world there was no such thing as whole- hearted adherence to them. A day or two later, when Allie had come in from drying her hair in the sun, the these was November 6, 1926 unexpected happened. She was sitting brushing her hair still and wondering what her life would be like now if there had been no quarrel with Captain Foster, and if she were sitting here in Captain Foster’s house, as Captain Foster’s wife, instead of Homer Wilkes’—for she had made up her mouth for that particular fruit, and here it was still hanging on the bough—when Melviny came in with her apron crumpled in her shaking hands. “They’ve got him in charge,’ she gasped. ‘They’ve got who?’ “Homer Wilkes. He’s gone home to dinner with the sheriff. He’s in custody.”’ “What for?’ Allie whispered. There was a rigid interval of suspense which the old woman filled in with a crazy burst of sobbing. Allie took her by the shoulders and held her toward the light. ‘‘ Haven’t you got a tongue in your head?” she faltered. “What is it?”’ “It’s your fault,’ Melviny answered. “You would egg him on to do such things, always making out you were such a martyr to be married to him. The man would have killed a dozen men if that would have made you happy, let alone take a diamond.” ‘““My diamond,” Allie gasped. “Then he ia “No, not that one,’”’ Melviny moaned. “He took another one, they claim, and disposed of it. He took old Mrs. Jewett’s diamond out of that oven where she kept it. I guess they got him on half a dozen counts.” Allie Wilkes, sitting on one of the hard settees reserved for witnesses and inter- ested relatives, saw that the court was getting ready to try Homer Wilkes on a charge of larceny and breaking and enter- ing. These were charges that it was easy enough to associatewith the name of Wilkes, and even people who had stood by Homer in the past condemned him now and said that evidently nothing could prevent that black streak in the Wilkeses from cropping out. The man was lawless. He had a con- tempt for law and order, he had before now openly defied the law, and officers of the law, to do their worst; and he had broken the law, there was no question about that, by selling short lobsters con- trary to a statute made and provided. Only, he had never been caught at it Plenty of women. who had bought of him, recalled how he had_ brought round in a sugar barrel after dar} back seat of his old rattletrap of lobsters on the a car with the rain curtains on, and wet sacking stuffed in at the top of the barrel Amby Gault, county attorney, had charge of the state’s case against him, and a thin acid-looking man, Mr. Horace looking out for Homer's couldn’t get anybody Daggett, interests. He Was from his home town to defend him, people pointed out significantly. Allie sat very still, watching her hus- band, who sat just outside the railed in- closure for the attorneys. Homer Wilkes had an ironical smile on his lips. Admit nothing and deny nothing—that was the principle he went on with the lawyers. It f himself knew was doubted if Daggett much more than others about the true state of the case he had been called on to defend. When the fish commission’s case over, the clerk of the court began immedi- ately to fill in the jury box for the case of was State versus Wilkes. The jurymen, Allie saw, were not ss ing men. They seemed practically all to be drawn from the ranks of those who had pressing need of the juryman’s fee. They preserved wooden, faintly hostile, closed-up against the quizzing of counsel. Suddenly George Foster's called. Allie dropped her head forward with a ringing in her ears. Captain Foster strode past her, close enough to reach out and touch her with his hand; he nearly Continued on Page i0§5 faces name was ESE oe

Page 105

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 103 ONT FREEZE YOU CAN JUMP THE TEMPERATURE IN 4 YOUR CAR FROM COLD TO COMFORT IN FIVE SHORT MINUTES ! ago removed the hardships from cold weather driving. HE minute your motor starts, this wonderful new Perfection begins pouring in joyous, luxurious If your car dealer or garage man heat that circulates through your for Ford Chevrolet can’t provide you with this new , b ] t car and puts cold to rout. Y ou can D H d type Perfection Heater, mail the iy drive from morn ’til midnight, odge & Hu SON, coupon below. We'll send you \ basking in summer warmth :: - ‘8 10 f 1] complete information on the Per- Hi | delightful comfort. to ora fection Heater for your car and Thousands of good dealers and the other popular makes. tell you exactly where you can motoring public everywhere have have one installed. H put their whole-hearted stamp of approval on this Also the standard exhaust type Perfection Heaters, as used by \ new heater. leading car manufacturers, $12.50 to $20.00. i) . . ; 7 +: el gp Ht ATER & MI ae A. oe i For it has no disadvantages. Doesn’t rattle. Doesn’t + shen nA as ik 4 ’ where can have one installe accentuate motor noises. Doesn’t smell. Doesn't — allow poisonous gases to leak into your car—the _ | y ° ° - . Street | Underwriters’ Laboratories have approved it. ; if tty i] ’ . ‘ My car is y It’s built and backed by the pioneer makers of 7 ° That sensational development in carburetion, the Swan System, ts made y this | motor-car heaters—the company that sixteen years company's subsidiary, The Swan Carburetor Company | | i i NO CAR IS COMPLETE WITHOUT A PERFECTION HEATER L] lh gtd

Page 106

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST S O H UM BLE ee aed : ; be UN =e Up on the hill is a little frame cottage with a white picket fence running around it and a garden that is a riot of flowers. The young people who live there so happily have but little to spend yet their home is furnished in perfect taste It is a mistake to believe, because your funds are limited, that your home cannot be attrac- tive and tasteful. It is a mistake to believe that you must put up with makeshift floor coverings; that you cannot afford the luxury of real rugs or carpets. No matter how humble your honie or how pretentious, Bigelow-Hartford has woven for you the floor coverings that will lend charm to every room in your house. Bigelow-Hartford rugs and carpets come in a wide range of prices. And for whatever price you pay you will get quality that cannot be duplicated for less. Wiltons, ‘*Hartford-Saxony,”’ Servians, Axminsters—all Bigelow-Ilartford products and all in every shade and pattern. We have been weavers for more than a century and every fabric that bears our name is backed by our reputation. Look for the name woven in the back. It is the guarantee of quality. AT YOUR SERVICE—A Department of Home Decorations. You are invited to write this department tor suggestions on the selection ot rugs and for advice on other problems of home furnishing. Write for new illustrated booklet, “Color and Design—Their Use in Home Deco- ration,” which gives helpful information about all home settings and furnishings. | g@ | Bigelow-Harttord Carpet Company, | ) 385 Madison Avenue, New York. | November 6, 1926 = A OT en est, ~ =

Page 107

(Continued from Page 102 did, by accident; and then he was stand- ing before the clerk of the court, his arms folded. A solid, masterful personality, as hard as nails. Mr. Daggett, rising, inquired of him: “Do you know this defendant?” “I may have met him.” “Have you read anything about this case?”’ “No.” “Have you formed an opinion?”’ “No.” The questions came in at Captain Foster's right ear, and his answers went out at right angles to that, and hit the clerk of the court smack in the face. Mr. Daggett did not challenge him, and he went into the jury box. The judge made him foreman and had him change seats with the horse-faced juror in wrinkled brown clothing, who made the shift with bad grace, since this would put him too far away from the jury spittoon to be certain even of his practiced aim. The judge said severely, ‘If anyone in the jury box is a second cousin or better of the defendant, he is within the prohibited degrees of consanguinity, and must step out of the box.” Nobody stirred. George Foster, the fore- man, folded his arms across his broad chest, and resettled his jaws. Allie Wilkes did not know what to think. She had an instinct to jump up and chal- lenge him herself; but she sat stiller than ever. How could she possibly, in open court, proclaim the fact that she and Cap- tain Foster had been lovers? She looked at Homer secretly. Sitting back in his chair, he had not seemed to move a muscle at George Foster’s appearance on the jury. Allie thought swiftly that if George Foster were a friend of Homer’s and had truly lent him money, then the man’s pres- ence on the jury might not be an unmiti- gated evil; and she had a right to assume it, since Homer had expressly told her that he had. Yet it was much more likely that Captain Foster was her husband’s enemy, by this strange chance sitting in judgment on him. Allie caught sight of Minnie Jewett, ghastly pale, sitting forward on the edge of the adjoining settee. Mrs. Jewett and Ole- son, who were among the state’s witnesses, were just beyond her. These were people who had been dependent for the very food that went into their mouths on Homer Wilkes’ bounty. Her glance shifted to the jury. ‘‘Hate to have my fate depending on that lot,” she heard a whisper behind her. “They got the right man for foreman though.” Allie Wilkes wanted to cry out that they had got anything but the right man for foreman; yet she held herself in check The county attorney was opening the case by handing round two or three photographs of the locus—what in real life he would re- fer to as the place—of the crime. The de- fendant, he acknowledged, had not been caught flagrante delicto—in the act, so to say—but circumstantial evidence irresist- ibly pointed to him as the criminal. He would proceed to discuss the modus oper- andi, The jury paid exactly the same attention to the Latin words that they did to the English. Those who had been jurymen be- fore knew that it was like being at a play always more or less mystification just after the rise of the curtain. In due time a man got his bearings in the midst of all these facts. The case against Homer Wilkes was sim- ple but damning. There was first his press- ing need for cash, as a motive. The men working on the fill would drop their shovels if cash were not forthcoming; and that would mean the end of everything for Homer Wilkes. He must have cash; and on the very night in question, by his own confession, he had gone to beg cash of Mr. J.K. Thaxter and failed to get it. Then the state would show that Mrs. Jewett had revealed the hiding place of her diamond in Homer Wilkes’ presence; that THE SATURDAY subsequently in the night, after an unsu cessful conference with J. K. Thaxter, he had forced his way into the Jewett home, pretending, when found there by Mr. Oscar Oleson, that his car had boiled dry, and that he was hunting for a piece of rope where with to lower a bucket into the well across the road. This explanation had allayed Mr Oleson’s natural suspicions until sometime next day when, in the light of the theft of the diamond, he reviewed that midnight episode Finally there was the fact that Homer Wilkes, unaided by Mr. J. K. Thaxter, had got money for his pay roll, overnight al- most; and in addition had bought his wife a diamond. “This is the last link in the chain, gentle- men,” the county attorney said. ‘The human eye is subject to hallucinations; a man’s tongue often trips, and hearing is liable to mislead; but facts speak for them- selves. Circumstantial evidence is often stronger than the actual testimony of eye- witnesses.”’ The case proceeded. Homer Wilkes sat throughit placidly. Everything was worked in against him, his heritage, his known views on law and religion, his dickering in short lobsters. The state even tried to in- sert the fact that Homer’s great-uncle had attempted murder in his day, but the judge ruled that out. The jury were not to con- sider that fact in reaching their decision. They must perform a mental fez’ like that involved in frying an egg without thinking of Alexander the Great. Homer Wilkes made a good witness for himself on direct examination. He made out a plausible case for his presence in the house. He was able to show that his car did frequently boil dry; that it would not be too easy to lay hands on anything in the dark barn; that it had been easy enough to open the kitchen door, held shut as it was by nothing but a tenpenny nail driven into the jamb and bent over to take the place of a defective latch. He spoke in clear tones, with a trace of contempt for all this proceeding, as if he knew well enough that it could have but one end. He was fascinating in his sang- froid. But it was just as if some creeping thing had got him in its toils, Allie thought. Certainly the law’s visibles were not impos- ing. That pale sickly-looking judge, for example, would be a child in Homer's hands. The sheriff was no better. Homer Wilkes might almost break these visible bonds, fling his accusers right and left, knock their heads together, and escape—yet he submitted, and seemed content to submit. Allie did not dare ask herself what she believed. Suddenly the cross-examination commenced, and almost at once the county attorney asked her husband if he would be willing to say where he had got the money to go on with, since by his own confession he had been at the end of his rope. “I prefer not to answer that,” said with a blithe smile. “That's all,’ said the county attorney, sitting down with a lingering look at the jury. George Foster’s face, Allie saw, was perfectly expressionless. Something of the judge’s weary lethargy seemed to pervade him. 3ut the other jurymen looked all at once unusually intelligent, as if something had come to light at last that really had a handle to it. Then at last the judge, serene in his black robe, was getting on his feet to charge the jury, who likewise stood. After a sentence or two he motioned them to sit down. The judge was seen to tower intellectu Homer ally above all the others in the room He reviewed the facts disputed. It wasn’t disputed that Homer Wilkes had been in need of money. Nor was it denied that he had actually got it from some quarter. The fact that he had paid his men their wages was proof enough of this. The question obviously was: From what quarter had he got it? The state had > theory, and the defendant another Some were un- is, the defendant knew and wouldn't tell. EVENING POST I'he jury had to a themse! ve is reason- able mer Vnetne yy the giver set ol facts, an innocent man wouldn't have been only too eager to come forward with a candid statement “On the facts then,’’ the judge said in conclusion, after dealing with some of them n detail, “y 1 must be convinced bevond a reasor ‘ t that the defendant gut I this thelt And that esn’t mean sical a t, ar absurd doubt in human affairs is absolutely cer- it means exactly what It says, a e doubt; that is, a doubt such as sonable men, might be reason- expected to have.”’ The judge uttered these words with great distinctness, as if the elu t f 1 of a reasonable doubt reside ' he clarity of his tones than ness of his log He said fir of accusation, as if they had secre tradicted him, “‘ You all as reasonal know perfectly well what a reasonabl e jury retired. Allie Wilkes felt a ad been lowered into cold water sud- denly. Mr. Horace Daggett, bending over her, muttered behind his hand that the worst they ment. She said nothing, but the wild, guilty, frightened feeling persisted that she should never have let George Foster retire with the other jurors. In less than an hour there was a rap from the jury room. They were ready to return with their verdict The judge was called. The clerk of thé court, motioning the jurymen to rise, in- vited the foreman to deliver his verdict George Foster with his arms folded, without the vestige of an expression on his face, said calmly, “Guilty as charged.” Homer Wilkes threw back his head, and his great defiant laugh rang across the court room. Allie Wilkes felt all at once deathly sick inside. The scene had a kind of terrible finality about it. As far as Homer was concerned, it was as if the stroke of death had riven him from her sid prise, that stroke was an af self, adumb anguish. It must be that she was in love with Homer Wilkes, now that he was so cruelly lost to her. Getting hold of Daggett, she said desperately: “We must appeal.” Daggett seemed confounded by the ver- dict “*IT made sure I had them,”’ he muttered I can’t understand it. The longer a man practices, the bigger puzzle juries get. Mrs. Wilkes, I was cold certain that I had that jury to a man, with the single possible exception of the foreman. It seems I didn’t.” ““We must appez “He won't appeal. One mock trial is 1ad to look for was a disagree- e. To her sur- fiction to her- enough, he says.” “You think,” Allie whispered with numb lips, “‘you think then the foreman might have—swung them over ‘a “‘Never any telling ld do a lot of clever strong-arm work le-handed in the jury room.’ There was a stir in the crowd a litt distance off. Minnie Jewett, Allie became } fainted Mr I've seen men wl l¢ t sherif it into the sur shine She did love him the Allie thought And she ought to have had him.” She went , toward Homer Wilk« her hand dr ng o7 walnut rail. H was sitting dead silent, his head su I damp hair hanging in a great roug! over one brow. Her hand fell timidly on the back of Still he didn’t move, and didn’t lo t he it he had recognized ne ( ve Ing Sa 4 mu an can Sa ; She realized that he had never once asked her to believe him innocent. Did he assume Continued on Page 107 What's 50c Alongside of $1800? No. 121 Round Point Shovel It doesn’t amount to a hoot in a hurricane according to Mr. Lyle, the Purchasing Agent of the J. G. Fallman Company, contractors of Pittsburgh. Mr. Lyle, wh Edge voter, figures it this way **A Red Edge Shovel costs us, say half a dollar more than a cheap shovel. A half dollar 1s always a half dollar, but—whatever shovel we buy, it costs us $1200 to $1800 a year to hire a man to operate that shovel. If that man can lift re tons of dirt in a year with a Red Edge, far be it from me to save 0 cents on the price of a shovel and waste $50 on the price of a man r As a matter of fact, not long ago we increased the size of our Red : 2 to No. 3 and at i the wages ol rybody is happy re work done at no greater cost and the men are get ting more pay for no longer hours.”’ And one thing Mr. Lyle ne glec t to mention, because he was s ) sorbed in the big issue d Edge outlasts the ordinary shovel two or three t ne THE WYOMING SHOVEL WORKS WYOMING, PA. WYOMING RED SHOVELS RED EDGE RED EDGE RED EDGE

Page 108

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 pA GG EES (ah 2 \s PRS oy rue Lhis fountain pen desk set is writing a new story of achievement io In all the history of writin’, equipment, there never has Wee: e been a greater innovation than this—a desk pen that : te contains its own ink—a fountain pen that stands ready ) for instant and continuous action. When not in use, it rests securely protected in a beautifully designed holder which prevents the ink from drying, on the nib. Ever ready! The Lifetime’ desk pen is made of the new Radite, WANs a practically indestructible material. And it carnes the GO Sheaffer guarantee, the guarantee that unconditionally protects it against all repair costs for the lifetime of the t user. Ask your dealer to show you this new writing, idea. Prices $10 to $30, complete with Lifetime pens. Regular Lifetime pen, $8.75. Others lawer SHEAFFER'S _ PENS: PENCILS + SKRIP W.A SHEAFFER PEN COMPANY - FORT MADISON, IOWA LONDON OFFICE, 199 REGENT STREET . Ee En. Li Fecal ie Ren US Pat. Of 1 yg ( or er at vay ra J ~ BS ew Wis ‘os =e a5 ‘ SHG) ii ts He Oh oS A BOL ie Eh = Wy ED af oS = a aN o) (P: ae ASS ee VD» Rr iy Ze POA n AH x ey 16 one ee St AL Ae SF) YC LAS Ab yh bs ae See dos (Ge CZE SEK OD eS ZAES = “Gi! ANS

Page 109

1 a ; ' i On 4 “J ' i} e . h\| +t bit : ay | Hh | ae), iM 1 4 q (Continued from Page 105 that she thought him guilty? Looking into the past, she could hear him saying that he would believe black was white if only she would tell him so. “Homer, you didn’t do it,’’ she whis- pered. ‘It’s a cruel lie. You couldn't.” “Steady over the shoals. It’s been proved,”’ he answered with a repetition of his shocking laugh. ‘‘You’ve heard ‘em. You’ve heard these twelve men stand up and say, Allie, guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.” “Ta ‘*How are you going to doubt it?”’ “*T don’t believe it.” ‘Allie, girl, thanks, but it’ll do you no good to stick to the bad Wilkeses. I absolve you. You poor thing, you cut clear of me as quick as ever God will let you.”’ “You mustn’t-talk—like this,” Allie panted. It had been on the tip of her tongue to say that only rats desert a sinking ship. \ sinking ship. He seemed so literally that. With her hand against her side she looked down at him, profoundly beautiful in her distress. Her cornflower-blue eyes were brilliant with unshed tears. Perforce, if he was not to be unmanned, he turned his head away. ‘“Respectability has got the jump on me at last,’’ he muttered. “I always knew it would some day. You cut clear, Allie. You can. Only now and then—you offer up a little prayer for me.” Allie Wilkes faltered: “You can appeal it, honey He stood up, abrupt and fierce, threat- ened with utter collapse if she continued in that vein. He put her hand away from him. ““No. Not where they wouldn’t have my second cousins in the jury,” he said grimly. “IT guess they hand-picked it, right from George Foster down.” George Foster. Allie Wilkes wanted to confess to him what had probably been in George Foster’s mind; but as before, when the foreman of the jury had been appointed, so now her voice was sealed up in her throat. “This is a pitcher that has gone once too often to the well,’’ Homer was muttering with head averted. ‘I made a mistake when I asked you to marry me. I was greedy, and I saw I had you in a corner, and that was the only way one of the Wilkeses would be likely to get hold of a woman as good as you. If they were to take and hang me by the neck until dead, that wouldn’t be half punishment enough. Jim, take me away.” Allie Wilkes swallowed hard. A queer thrilling swarm of impulses shot through her; now that he was lost to her, she saw that there was no man in all the world but Homer Wilkes; even his most exasperating traits were lovable. The world was all against him, but Allie Wilkes could still be- lieve that black was white if only Homer would give her one more chance. If he would only look at her, or let her hand rest in his. But he had grown hard. In so many words he had rejected her. He affected to be talking over ways and means with the sheriff. Suddenly they began to walk away together. She had not convinced him then that she at least still thought him innocent. And that was true, even though she felt equally sure that Captain Foster had not been the man to advance the money in question. George was close with money. He didn’t part with it to every Tom, Dick and Harry, much less to a man who had supplanted him in the affections of a woman on whom he had set his heart. And strangely, in the circumstances, she was confident, from minutest signs, that Foster’s love for her had been fanned into new flame at seeing her another man’s pos- session. He couldn't possibly feel toward Homer Wilkes as any man not under the sway of passion would. Allie Wilkes felt a crying fullness of affec- tion for the condemned man. For now that her husbance’s position was fixed at last as one of the bad Wilkeses, now that he was himself in the very predicament from which he had so skillfully and mysteriously saved THE SATURDAY Melviny and—who knew?—perhaps her- self, now at length she could acknowledge to herself that she loved him with all her heart and soul; so desperately indeed that if she could not have him back she wanted to die. So capricious is the haphazard ma- chinery for interlocking souls. All these weeks and months when she might have showered affection on him she had been cold, she had played the martyr with him. She had affected to be asleep when he came in late; she had been head- achy and lain with a wet towel over her eyes if he had an hour off from the cares of that devouring fill; she had let him see that he had taken a base advantage of her ne- cessities in making her his wife. Once, when Melviny had cried shame upon her for her heartless attitude when she had such rea- son to be grateful, she had cried bitingly: “Was the bargain so one-sided? Do you think he would have done what he did for just an old lady in trouble? If you do, you know less of man nature than I gave you credit for. He was playing for bigger stakes.” Now she stared after him, her eyes blinded with tears. She couldn't get near him. She had willfully thrown away her chance. Homer Wilkes was walking away, no doubt with a satirical gleam in his eye. He had an unmixed contempt for the self- preserving and self-coddling instincts of mankind. Dog eat dog—that seemed to be the motto of his fellow man. He had been for years, for his entire life, on his guard against that sort of thing; but now, through his love for this perilous woman, his wife, re- spectability had got the jump on him at last. “That was once my foot slipped,” she heard him saying ironically to the sheriff, without knowing in what connection he was saying it. The door shut on him. She found herself outside the court- house. Mr. Daggett was mouthing his last consolations. He would get in touch with her as soon as Mr. Wilkes should reconsider his decision not to appeal. “We're certain to come to that,’’ he mut- tered. “He will never appeal,’”’ she said dis- tinctly. George Filloon’s bus was standing by that ruin of a horse trough just north of the queer little band stand which had been put up by a jigsaw on a frolic. The bus, finished in the natural wood finish—light oak—had six or eight seats thwartships with a narrow aisle, and an entrance from the rear by two or three hanging steps. It was well filled already. Allie Wilkes took the last seat on the left-hand side, but there was still room for one more beside her. Mr. Wincapaw, the barber, was just ahead of her. She fixed her eyes on the dazzle of his celluloid collar. George Filloon’s bus began to gather speed when Allie heard someone running after it. It was actually Captain Foster, but for a second or two she did not know that, her attention having been drawn to another car which sounded its horn and drew abreast of them. For the second or two of its pass- ing, Allie saw Minnie Jewett lying back, pale as death, and with an exhausted tragic look under her full eyes. Really Minnie looked the part of the stricken wife much better than she did herself, Allie thought. George Foster lunged aboard—he had only caught the bus by the skin of his teeth—and tumbled into the seat beside her. She could feel the commotion of his fast breathing, that special cigar scent of his clothes was in her nostrils. She couldn’t think by what unlucky chance they two should be sitting practically in each other's arms, and after such a session as that in which they had both just taken part. EVENING POST To make matters worse, the driver, George Filloon, was snatching them around curves that even at a lower speed were quite enough to break a snake’s back. First she was thrown up forcibly against the heart region of her former lover; and next he was catapulted fairly into Allie’s arms. While extricating himself he against the roar of the car ‘I hope you don’t think I Look here, this business has damned us all in a heap, Allie.”’ ‘Please don’t mention it,”’ she said icily. “*T was on oath. On oath, remember.” “I’m not likely to forget it.” “Well then, you 4 ‘Please let’s have no talk about it,”’ she said, feeling, and with reason, that Mr. Wincapaw’'s amply convoluted ears could easily stretch to this. They fell silent and sat taut, with fre- quent mutual bodily readjustments, until Captain Foster got out at Hobb’s Lane, near where the portable sawmill had left a noble sawdust cone the winter previous. That was the nearest point of departure to his ship, no doubt, since he was still living on board. A moment or two later Allie, in a daze, found the car stopped, and George Filloon looking back at her inquiringly. This was as close as he would come to the Wilkes place, since he turned off at right angles a hundred yards or so beyond this. She had scarcely got out of the bus—it hadn’t yet disappeared round the corner— when Mrs. Jewett came out of her house across the way and looked up and down the road ina distracted manner. She had her fat hands clutched together under her apron. “There’s no end to our troubles,”’ she moaned. ‘“‘The girl will talk as if I had hounded him into—I didn’t want to prose- cute, I swear I didn’t. I simply received one of these fail-not-at-your-peril notes, and what alternative did I have? Now I ask you. Minnie’s fairly sick over it. Would it be too great an imposition on you to ask you to ask Doctor Sterritt to step round here as you are going home, Mrs. Wilkes? He might be able to give her something to quiet her. She'll simply rack herself to pieces if she goes on as she’s going now.” Allie nodded, with a burning in her throat and the taste of salt tears. If it had been Minnie Wilkes instead of Allie, Homer might have appealed his case. Worse; there might have been no need for him to appeal it. But she had had no time, and no art, there in the open court room, to con- vince him of this new sentiment kindled in her breast, pity and passion and love all together; where he thought of her as in- different to his fate as she had seemed all along, and of himself as a good riddance. It had been like the rest of life, make- shift and make-believe on his part; houses of cards, jackstraws moved at a breath, a spell that could be broken by a whisper or the slant of a lash. A fool’s paradise he had once said was better than a wise man’s hell. All that jollity of a happily married man he had put on for others’ benefit; for his own, too, quite likely, since he called himself an adept in the art of self-delusion. He would know how to take his medicine. Homer Wilkes’ two-horse teams began to tramp past her from the fill. They were still dumping gravel there then. They would go on with that, impassive and un- concerned, as long as somebody else could beg or borrow or steal a pay roll for them in place of Homer Wilkes. Fiery hatred of that stolid procession darted from those eyes of cornflower blue. Sitting high in cast-iron seats fixed co dirty trucks, the whispered men averted their eyes from her, or touche their hats dumbly. They spoke only wher they had got well down th roa ar t then in abashed tones They had heard the verdict t} 4 thought, and they were attributing Hor downfall to her influence And the right to do so. She tared haunches of the horses, and winked awa tears at a sudden thought of how Home had solved the problem, in the first place whether to use horses or motortrucks ir } hauling his gravel. If he used motortrucks he had cried in his big voice, what the devi were the Baltimore orioles going to do for horsehair, where up to now they had always built their nests of horsehair and reckoned have a right te A man couldn't very well ask the birds of the air to change their on horsehair? Didn't they reckon on horsehair? habits overnight And that, of reason. He would have had to town for motortrucks, people could furnish him with horses, at a course, hadn’t been his reai send out of where the home profit to themselves. And he would make it appear as if they furnished him horses as a special act of kindness to himself Amby Gault was on the porch of Doctor Sterritt’s house. When she had deliber- ately given her message to the doctor the county attorney said diplomatically: “T hope you don’t lay it up against me, Mrs. Wilkes, for my part in this sad busi- ness.” With a shiver she saw that what the man expected of her was some secret sign of gratitude. It was evidently common knowl- edge that she had not been too hopelessly in love with Homer Wilkes; and now it was assumed that the jail sentence would relieve her of the need of associating further with him. She murmured, “‘No doubt you only did your duty, Mr. Gault.’ She turned her back on him without more. found Melviny sitting at the foot of the front stairs, moan- ing gently, with an apron thrown over her head, as was customary with her in the praying fits she indulged after attending a religious revival. ““Now I suppose you're satisfied at last,” the poor old thing whimpered “Satisfied?”’ Allie aghast. You talk as if you thought I thirsted for his blood.” “Tf it wasn’t for you, do you think he'd be where he is today? He had money Home again, she repeated, enough. He spent it all, every red, to get us out of trouble when we were in up to the neck; and what thanks did he get for it? You wouldn't let him touch you with a ten foot pole. What were his last words?” “You speak as if he dead,” Allie whispered. were “If he was mine I'd rather see him in his Melviny “He'll get the prison taint onto him, and he'll never be the same man again when he grave than where he is,”’ wailed comes out. They sour on the world. If you had had a spark of love for him he wouldn't have been brought to try such desperate things. But no, you were always cool. And now here’s Minnie Jewett taking on like a mad woman, tearing the clothes off her body and fighting for air, they tell me; and here you stand like something made of ice.’ “Aunt Melviny,” Allie cried faintly, ‘I can’t take on when it isn’t in me to. I al ways fight off tears; I don’t know why Even when I’m at the movies I turn my head the other way if the picture gets too pathetic.” ““T guess, though, tears ain’t any great deprivation to you in this case,””’ Melviny sniffed. ‘“‘ You'd just as soon as not see him incarcerated for good and all did he get?”’ “Three to five years,’’ Allie answered ir Hiow long Incarcerated Shut away from the light of the sun and the heave of the sea, shut away from men cramped into a nar dull tones. She stood silent and birds and horses, row cell to live on bread and water; that was a Wilkes paying the penalty of his in heritance. TO BE CONCLUDED

Page 110

Continued from Page 29) nothing resembling it, and would not, both for honesty’s and for policy’s sake, but presumably it had its effect. There is a well-known coach who could qualify for the All-American anonymous-letter-writing team. Getting the other fellow’s goat is half the battle, he argues, and annually he is accustomed to writing a letter to his more formidable opponents, signed, perhaps, Truth and Honor. The content varies. Sometimes the rival coach is warned that there is a traitor on his team, that his signals and trick plays are all in the hands of the enemy. Anything calculated to break down the morale of the other coach and team serves his purpose, and he does not lack in- genuity. Annually he writes a scurrilous anonymous letter to himself and posts it to an agent in the college town from which he wishes it to seem to come. When it returns to him he opens it before the team. ‘‘Listen!’’ he thunders. ‘‘Here’s what Punxsutawney thinks of you!” And he reads the letter aloud. Just before the game or during the intermission, he reads them the letter again. That is one form of goat-hunting strategy. Percy Haughton once uset! another and a smarter brand on Yale. As the crowd was gathering for the 1913 game at Cam- bridge, as I have heard the possibly exaggerated story, Haughton had something THE SATURDAY LOUCH DOWN £ in all wars, for that matter— did not hesitate to lie officially to their peoples and their armies if it served a mili- tary purpose, so some coaches hold that the end justifies the means and add football to love and war. Thatis a matter of taste. PersonallyI can’t say much for the coach that has to lie to his men to make them play, or the team that has to be lied to. It wins EVENING POST November 6, 1926 like three dozen footballs distributed widely over the stadium field. This done, Charley Brickley of the miraculous leg and the patent-toe right shoe, trotted out and is said to have booted them one by one over the crossbar, without a failure, leaving two on the center-field line until the last. Propaganda OW he lifted one over the north goal post, turned around and kicked the other over the south goal—and trotted off. That was showmanship. Harvard won the game 15 to 5, Brickley kicking five field goals for the Crim- son’s only points. There are as many dif- ferent methods of keying a team up to concert pitch for a game as there are coaches to do the tuning. Some are legitimate, others are illegitimate. As both sides in the recent war—or Pat Page, Chicago End, in Fuil Flight in the 6 to 6 Cornell Game of 1909 on the Old Val« ley Field at Ithaca **Do you remember that time I caught a forward pass in the 1915 Minne- sota game, ran about four- teen yards with it, then drepped the ball just as I was crossing Minnesota’s goal line, and a Minnesota man fell on it for a touch back?” he asked. “*Perfectly,”’ I assured him. A Vain Search ss O YOU remember how you treated me the following week, before the Illinois game?” he went on. “‘T’m not sure about the details, but I imagine | didn’t give you much chance to play end that week,” I told him. “T’ll say you didn’t,” Whiting mused. ‘You gave me no chance at all. You played me at guard Vie Kennard of Harvard Kicks a Fietd Goal and Wins From Yale on the Old Yale Field, 1908 Dolly Gray Running the Ball Behind Pete Russell's Interference. Chicago November 1, 1913 28, Itlinois 7. sometimes; so does an occa- sional race horse, made frantic by a hypodermic or an electric bat- tery beneath its saddle blanket, win. Going to New York in March, 1924, to attend a meeting of the rules committee and to speak at an alumni din- ner of the Big Ten universities, I met Frank Whiting on the train. Whiting was an end on the Chicago elevens of 1913, 1914 and 1915, and a good one. and tackle and carefully ignored me all week. I was scared to death that you weren’t going to let me into the Illinois game, the last of my career, and I was so worked up before Saturday that I could have chewed nails. ‘“‘Then we gathered in the tower room before the game. You talked to the squad like a Dutch uncle. When you finished, you began to call off the line-up. You started with the back field and named them. Then you moved clear over to right end. You named a right end, right tackle, right guard, center, left guard, left tackle—and then you paused. By that time my heart was pounding like a Salvation Army drum. “You waited a minute, then said, ‘I’m looking for a left end.’ No one said anything, but I felt like thirty cents. *“*Toes anyone know where I can find a left end?’ you asked. “Still no answer. You sort of looked under the bench, in the corners and out of the window. ““*Is there anyone here who knows how to play left end?’ you persisted. I tried to say something, but nothing would come out of my mouth. ““*In that case,’ you said, ‘I haven’t any left end. I guess I'll have to pretend that this man Whiting is one, but I'll never fool Illinois.’”’ This was pretty rough on a good man, but as Whiting told me, “‘By that time I was keyed up so that I would Continued on Page 112

Page 111

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Always Accurate ” Made in five and ten capacities—both labeled by the Underwriters’ Laboratories. gai

Page 112

November 6, 1926 ‘ Wa A uy os ® .°) a, 6) 2 a? z ey > a Se CS Q me > i] @ rm) ray es & f DODG /pr “ arm, ae cnt D0 Basis tally

Page 113

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MOTOR CARS There is no Saturation Point | for Honest Value Sedan *895— Special Sedan *945 De Luxe Sedan *1075 f. o. b. Detroit

Page 114

Chippendale, Adam, Sheraton, Duncan Phyfe—what these enduring names signify to iovers of fine furniture .. . What Sevres, Wedgwood, Crown Derby are to the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST BHaker ‘Velour FINE FURNITURE china savant .. . Baker Velvets, Plushes and Velours have meant to American makers and merchants and owners of finely-covered furniture for the past 38 years. Climaxing 38 Years of Leadership OMANCE there is in every indus- try... But none more vividly inter- esting than the story of Velvet . . . For Velvet was one of the world’s early fabrics, originally designed as a creation imilar to man’s first garment—fur. Of the origin of Velvet, little is known... Its first authenticated appearance was in Asia . . . Those there are who maintain the art of velvet-weaving was known in legend ary Indo-China days. With the restless migrations of the Eastern folk, this wondrously rich and beautiful fabric was brought to the lands bordering on the Mediterranean . From thence it spread throughout Islam, by which in turn it was passed on to the peo- ples of the North. In the pageants, fétes and tournaments of his- tory, always has Velvet sounded the dominant decorative note. For costume and covering, it has been the lead- ing color-element. Throughout all the centuries, it has been known as “The Cloth of Kings.” A. T. Baker & Co., Inc., was one of the first American makers of Velvet. In 1888, in asmall building in the outskirts of Philadelphia, in which were but ten narrow looms, a start was made. Today, an entire community Baker's Mulls, North Carolina—and a modernly equipped factory of 150,000 square feet at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, house one of the largest producers of Vel- } 1 — vets, Plushes and Velours in the United States. * * * * * * * Sensing a new day in the furniture tastes and requirements of the Amer- A. T. BAKER & CO., INC., pioneer manufacturers of Velvets, Plushes and Velours, will shortly announce a completely new line of materials in keeping with the new- est trends in modern furniture fab- rics and design... 4 More wood to be shown—the WAY craftsman and wood-carver to be given broader scope for self-expression . . . Furniture of finer, more graceful lines to replace that of heavier design... The day of the heavy over- stuffed “sets” was waning .. . Not only individual pieces but entire sets with bright colorful coverings would cheer and enliven the room, supplant- ing the dull and neutral effects ... The plainer, heavier fabrics had had their day as \ From a small building in Philadelphia's outskirts to one of the largest plants in the United States A Aa In the modernly furnished living-room and boudoir— = spots of lightness, bright ii ness and color combined with rich plain fabrics were to be the order of the hour. —. ee Tht 11.1 balan sea ease, f , « x* * * J Armed with this fore- ican home, many months ago A. T. Baker & Co., Inc., inaugu- rated perhaps the most intensive study that has ever been made of the furniture industry ... Neither time nor expense was spared . . . Leading furniture manufacturers were called upon, furniture designers wereconferred with, important merchants were consulted, the advice of the country’s most expert interior decorators was sought . . . Styles and preferences in furniture were due fora change. A radical change. That much was clear... From those responsible to the public for the interpretation of its furniture tastes, A. T. Baker & Co., Inc., learned ~ what the new requirements in coverings would be... Bakers Velowr FOR FINE FURNITURE AND FINE MOTOR CARS Leading furniture makers and de- signers, important merchants and expert interior decorators were con- sulted knowledge, the vast re- sources of A. T. Baker & Co., Inc., were concentrated upon a single goal . . . To produce these new fabrics, colorful, decorative, in line with the modern trend in anticipation of the modern demand. Today, A. T. Baker & Co., Inc., more completely than any other manufacturer, stands ready, through leading furniture makers and merchants, to give to the Ameri can home-maker the typeandstyleandcolor ful effects in furniture that she demands . . . The new Baker fabrics are works ofart . . . New subtleties of design . . . New niceties of figuring .. . New and wonderful colors, intriguing in their beauty, unexampled in their exquisite good taste .. . New luxury with the same high quality and value that have characterized Baker fabrics since the beginning . . . Only so many years, only such great resources, only such vast experience could produce such materials as the modernized Baker line of coverings presents. The new Baker fabrics are being shown to the furniture trade at this time and retailers of furniture will have suites covered with the new material on display. e643 6686 6 A. T. Baxer & Co., Inc., Manayunk, Phila delphia; 41 Union Square, New York City; 28 E. Jackson Blud., Chicago; 1020 Central Bldg., Los Angeles; 94 Dixwell Ave., Quincy, Mass., and 923 Nicholas Bldg., Toledo November 6, 1926 —— ia =

Page 115

(Continued from Page 108 have broken my neck gladly.’”” And as a matter of fact, he did smash his shoulder against an Illinois knee in the first ten minutes of play and had to be taken out. The scene in the tower room of Bartlett gym described by Whiting occurs before every Chicago game, although not always with such concentration on an individual. But I never select my team until the day of the game. My motives are both tactical and psychological. Conditions may change at the last moment; and in any event, I purposely keep the men in suspense as long as possible in order to heighten their emo- tional tension. In the midst of one Princeton game I had to derrick a veteran out of the game for poor work. He showed his resentment, but we were in New York the next day and I did not see him, and on Monday at work- out the team was in a ceiebrating mood. On Tuesday I noticed that my man was sulking. As we were leaving the field he overtook me and demanded hotly, ‘ Mr. Stagg, why did you take me out of the game on Saturday?” “I took you out because you were not doing your best,’’ I told him frankly. “I was, too, doing my best,”’ he argued. ““Do you remember when you went down the field at half speed under that punt?” No, he did not remember. “Do you remember when Rafferty was dragging So-and-So along and you stood within two or three yards and did noth- ing?’’ He didn’t recall that either. ““Do you remember the second time you loafed under a punt?”’ No, I was all wrong. “Well, that’s the time I took you out,” I added. He continued to argue resentfully until I turned on him. ‘Heaven help you in your later life if you don’t take a tumble to yourself,” I said. “‘ You are a self-satisfied, opinionated young jackass who is bigger than the team, the coach and the school to- gether. Go take a good look at yourself and come back when you see what I do.” This was spoken to the man alone; but once I had to lash a man before the whole squad, a task all the more distasteful in that the victim was a weak and diffident soul with no tough coating of ego to protect him. He was an only son, the darling of a foolishly fond mother. Sometimes these only sons of overfond parents are vicious; sometimes they are only soft, flabby and characterless. This boy was the latter. The team was a weak one, but he was a sensational drop kicker and punter, so ex- traordinary that had there been a heart be- hind his good right foot the team might have been formidable. In practice he could stand in midfield and drop the ball over the bar repeatedly, but in a game he lost his nerve. Nine times, against an op- ponent we strive particularly to beat, he had an easy shot at a field goal, and nine times he flunked it. The opposition finally booted a goal and we lost by that three- point margin. The Need of Temperament The Young Prince was another such only son. He was as magnificent a piece of athletic timber as a coach might dream of, weighing 225 pounds of bone and sinew, stripped. He had size, speed, coérdination, power. He had everything, on the field and off, for he was the handsomest man on the campus, genial and possessed of a port- folio of parlor tricks. Without ever having known a day of training, he stepped onto the field and tossed the hammer, shot and discus farther than the best we had. This genial young giant had been brought up in cotton batting by a doting father and mother, who yanked him off the foot- ball squad the moment they heard he had turned out and before he had played a game. Conscious of his gifts and resentful of the unnatural prohibition, he just dropped his oars and drifted, with such poor grades that he never again was eligible for any team, until finally he quit. For fifteen years better than a passing grade has been demanded of athletes at Chicago. We have five grades--A, B, C, D and FE. C is the lowest graduation or eligibility grade. D is arecognition of the fact that other- wise fine minds have no capacity for cer- tain subjects. Bulk, strength, grace and speed are so much lath and painted plaster if they are not backed up by football temperament, and imagination is the prime ingredient of that temperament— imagination to drama- tize the conflict and one’s own part in it, imagination to anticipate what and where the foe’s next move will be, imagination to capitalize instantly on any break in the game. Football is a game apart. Baseball, ten- nis, golf, lacrosse or soccer, are all fine sports, but they lack the direct impact, the hand-to-hand struggle, not of individuals but of massed groups in which virtually every man is engaged up to the hilt in every moment of play. To vary the figure, foot- ball is the infantry of competitive sport. Baseball, tennis and the rest are the artil- lery, the engineers, the signal corps, and the like. Each is essential, each has its own attractions; but it is the foot-slogging infan- try that goes over the top with fixed bayo- nets to meet the shock troops of the enemy. Born, Not Made Within its limitations football is an art, and players are born, not made. It is easier to manufacture a halfback than to fabricate a poet, a painter or a concert violinist, but only relatively. Certain phys- ical attributes enter into being a football player, but a manufactured tackle or full- back always will remain an automaton, a mechanical piano. On the other hand, a boy weighing only 110 pounds automati- cally is debarred from college football. No amount of football sense can overcome such physical slightness, and this has grown more true as the tackling defense has improved. Yet for the most part relatively small men, weighing 160 pounds or less, have been the most spectacular players Conference football has produced. Eckersall weighed only 132 when he reported on the squad, and never more than 145. His successor, Wallie Steffen, Rollie Williams of Wisconsin, Oli- phant of Purdue and the Army, Pete Rus- sell, Paddy Driscoll of Northwestern, Chick Harley of Ohio State, John McGovern of Minnesota, Harold Pogue and his Illinois co-star, Pottsy Clark, Kipke of Michigan all were in this class. Aubrey Devine of Iowa and Grange weighed 170 and 175, respectively. The small man carries his weight in bet- ter balance, is more agile, more graceful. Running in a shorter stride, as a rule, he can check, pivot, swerve, stop and get under way again without loss of equilibrium. Superficially, long-legged men would seem to have an advantage in sprint races; but Abrahams, the English winner of the last Olympic 100-meter final, is one of the few tail and rangy sprinters to set a record. Their stride is longer, but they don’t get as many revolutions a minute, as an engi- neer would say. Although they reach college earlier, boys are larger than they were in my youth. They are taller and heavier on an average and in particular I have noted the steadily increasing size of their feet. Our statistics show a similar increase in height and weight among women students since 1892. They should be larger; children are better nour- ished, better cared for, surrounded by sani- tation and preventive medicine. It may be that a difference in the New England and Middle Western physiques has some- thing to do with it. The enrollment at Yale in 1888 was 1026. All were men and all eligible for athletics This approximates the male undergraduate enrollment at Chicago from which we have to draw for our teams, but our men come in much larger sizes. When I was in Eng- land first in 1900 nothing struck me more THE SATURDAY EVENING POST forcibly than the physical disparity be- tween the upper and the lower classes. The English aristocrat usually is a fine physical specimen, the English hand usually the reverse clerk and factory Generations of good housing, good nourishment and open- air sport have produced the one tions of poor food, poor housing and cramping work have produced the other, until the line of caste demarcation is physi- cal as well as cultural and financial No one blanket will cover all the un imaginative football candidates merely clods, with no emotional! nature and no capacity for losing themselves. Once we had a big boob fits him—on a Chicago eleven. He was a splendid physical specimen, weighing 220 and fast for his size. We had fought a great battle with Cornell on our own field, com- ing from behind to tie the score 6 to 6 in the last minute or two of play on a touchdown from a triple pass followed by a forward genera- Some are no other description pass. The next year we went to Ithaca keyed up to win. The game was played on the old Cornell field in the valley, overlooked by a high cliff on which several hundred deadheads had gathered. We were almost on Cornell's goal line, with the team on fighting edge and the ten- sion breathless, when this man looked up interestedly at the crowd on the bluff and speculated to the man alongside him: “‘Say, what do you suppose would happen if that bluff should cave in with all those people?” There was imagination, but sadly out of place. There are many men of superb imaginations in other respects whom foot- ball leaves cold. “‘ After al',’’ they tell them- selves, “this is only a game; let’s not get too excited about it."””. Meanwhile a true player will have become so engrossed that the game is as real as life and death, with honor and all at stake. Other men are superb for five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes. Their capac- ity for imagination, for forgetting them- selves, is limited to these periods. For that long they play magnificently, but on a false emotion—the stimulus provided by the crowd, or an exhibitionist complex. But when the doggedness of the fight sinks in and they become conscious of some physical discomfort, they suddenly turn realists. .“‘What am I getting so steamed up about?” they ask themselves. ‘“‘ What's all the shooting for anyway? The sun will come up tomorrow morning, children will play and the furnace ashes will have to be hauled just the same whether we lick Mugglesdorfer or Mugglesdorfer licks us.” From that moment they are worse than useless. The real player, on the other hand, never feels his bruises. He is enjoying himself hugely. The hotter the battle, the more his body glows with a physical exaltation and his nerves thrill to the impact of flesh against flesh. Gridiron Automatons Sometimes it is a man’s physical endur- ance that is limited. Bubbles Hill, a rip- snorter tackle, one of the best on defense I ever had, was good for not more than twenty-five minutes his first season; then he collapsed. The second season he could last out a half, the third year he could fin- ish a game. His trouble was purely physi- cal and it was cured, but no psychologist has yet learned how to cure the mental hazards of a player. The mechanical player we have with us always. It is a fortunate coach who is not compelled to use one or more every season They master the technic and perform per- fectly in practice, but they cannot transf« the technic toa game. Such a man lost us a touchdown in a Michigan game once. To take a forward pass, the Michigan receiver had run beyond this Chicago half. The pass was short and fell right into our man’s hands. 1 Most backs would have been off like a shot with it; but though he had played five years and though he intercepted the ball prettily, he now had to stop and our hair... thick, clean vigorous WO Common ills can quickly sap the vigor of your hair and rob it of its clean, healthy appear ance Dandruff is now know nto be an actual infection. Thinning hair is due to poor scalp circulation. Unchecked, either of these will lead to ultimate baldness! Yet both of these dangers can be avoided—they can im most cases he overcotne, even when of long standing. The method is very simple. sten hair and EVERY MORNING scalp gener vy with Ed. Pinand’s Eau de Quinine. Then with t fingers pressed down firmly, move the alp vigorously in every directior working the ton thoroughly int er of the scalp Comb and brush ‘ hair while still moist. It will lie sinoethly just the way you want it This treatment leaves your scalp tingling with new health. Used regularly it destroys dandruff in- fection and stimulates hair-nour- ishing circulation. Your hair—literally sick before will in only a few days begin to and to feel more vigorous look ( leaner, Start now to protect vour hair. Get Ed. Pinaud’s Eau de Quinine at any drug or department store today. Each bottle bears the signature of Ed. Pinaud Pinaud Incorporated, 90 Fifth Avenue, New York fumerie Ed. Pinaud, Paris sole distributors for Par me S44, A “Ce ‘ - ED. PINAUD’S Eau de Ouinine

Page 116

REG US PAT OFF FASTENER Pe knows the popular Goodrich “Zipper” Boot because it is the overshoe that is opened and closed with a “Zip”. The fastener itself is sometimes mistakenly called the “Zip- per’, though the real name of this original slide fasten- ing device is HOOKLESS FASTENER The HOOK- LESS FAST- ENER is also used on awide variety of other articles including wearing ap- parel, luggage, etc. It always works, is flexi- ble, durable and absolutely rustproof. A glance at the HOOKLESS trade-mark on the pull iden- yA Goodrich IPPER BOOT , tifies the genuine. Be sure it’s there! Write us for information re rdir ’ vt garding 1 eu HOOKLESS FASTENER HOOKLESS FASTENER COMPANY Meadville Pennsylvania " THE SATURDAY | ask himself what to do next. In that mo- | ment his opportunity passed. We had another man once whose technic | in line play was nothing less than perfect in practice. He performed to specifications in a game, too, just as long as his opponent played as expected. At any variation in tactics he was lost. He knew only how to play by the book. A pianist goes through certain exercises, so does a football player; but when the notes change, both are ex- pected to follow the music. Eleven men 100 per cent in ability are too much to hope for; but given a sizable squad, any coach can see to it that he gets 100 per cent in spirit. All I ask is to have enough men fighting for places on the var- sity to insure none of them being certain of his job. Every now and then we get a man who is indispensable, but who will not give his all in every game, nor all the time in any game. When I possibly can do without such a man, even if he is a football genius, I won’t have him around. The conscien- tious player never is a substitute for the genius, but give me plenty of them is my prayer. The boy who is worth his weight in gold is he who is always in every play and every game up to his neck, and I will for- give him if he falls short of All-American brillianey. There are two divisions to football psychology—the pregame preparation of the team for battle and the maintaining of this high tension throughout the game. There was little pregame psychology when I played except the hate propaganda of the old grads who came back before the big game to pump poison into us. They re- cited all the dastardly deeds of the enemy in years past, predicted more to come, and assured us that none but a scoundrel could survive in the fetid air of Princeton and Harvard. Meanwhile the Harvard and Princeton elevens were being informed of what a crew of blackguards, barn burners and strike breakers they might except from Yale. Often the old grads were pathetically sincere. They had come to believe that Yale, Princeton or Harvard, as the case might be, was populated half by con- temptible milksops and half by horse thieves and train wreckers. That was the correct way for a college man to feel, and the Big Three set the styles for all Amer- ican colleges. We used to sow a fine crop of dragons’ teeth ourselves in the Confer- ence in the first fifteen years. That hatred that once glowed at white heat has been cooling steadily and surely, but it still will raise an occasional blister around big-game time. I hope it may pass altogether in my time; but every college has one, sometimes two games, that do not inspire a philo- sophic calm, and some of the strafing spirit will survive, I suspect. Soft Snaps and Overconfidence This poisen gas indubitably has accom- plished miracles at times where nothing else would have availed, but it is not essential to the best results, and it is not a credit to the coach or the school that employs it. The better plan lies in an appeal to the loyalty, sentiment, love of the university, love of one another and self-pride of the players. They are potent enough for any purpose if you know how to use them. I stress this pregame preparation, but I concentrate largely on the big game, ex- perience having taught me that a team cannot be kept at concert pitch safely for a longer period. I always hope that my teams can win without evangelism, but I never neglect that mental preparation. Before a big game I use every legitimate weapon I can command to rouse the heart, mind and temper of every man on the squad to a point where he can exert his supreme effort. Every coach is not capable of irspiring this intensity always for even his big game, and no coach can do it for every game, for there are other factors than the coach. He can count usually on united support for | the crucial game, but he may have the EVENING POST student body, the fraternities and the newspapers to combat before the lesser contests. Occasionally he is confronted with defeatist propaganda, but much more often he has to go to the mat with over- confidence. He may foresee great danger in a specific game, but because the opposition commonly is weak or has shown little that far in the season, it is underrated by the newspapers and the student body, and the coach’s warnings may not be taken too seriously by the team. There are no more soft snaps on our schedule. The time has passed when I dare to ease up one Saturday to save something for the next. Most rooters never concern themselves with more than the game in hand. A coach must plan a campaign. Periodically he is bombarded by demands from the student body to run up a score on a certain rela- tively weak team because a major opponent has walloped this eleven 30 or 40 to 0 earlier in the season. That is a form of competition which never has interested me. I prefer to make my showing against the major opponent when the time comes. The Bellowing Bull During the intermission the coach, in a very brief period, has to point out both his own team’s and the foe’s weaknesses and strength, and to rewind the emotional clockworks of his men. I first get the re- ports of my assistants. With that addition to my own observations of the first half, I ask my linemen why certain plays have failed to work. I point out errors of judg- ment in the stationing of our own players on offense, but particularly on defense, and blunders of the opposition which we have failed to capitalize; analyze failures in our strategy and advise changes and additions to meet the conditions that may be expected to arise in the second half, judged by the first half’s play. Then I endeavor to key my men up again, first talking to individuals, then to the team as a whole. If any has failed to do his best I tell him so bluntly. Often I am only well into my talk when an official will pound on the door and shout his warn- ing, ‘‘Two minutes!” The coach is expected by the students to make his own contribution to the drama of the game. He is a bellowing bull, by popu- lar picture, and if he does not blow fire through his nostrils and toss an occasional player on his horns, there is disappoint- ment. It is exciting to watch and looks important, but it is not necessarily so. The coach may be more concerned with getting his moment in the spotlight than in getting results. A certain amount of this show- manship sometimes is necessary for its effect on the team, but it is no mandatory part of the equipment of a first-class coach. The team should be allowed in the picture too. It is not uncommon for coaches to curse their teams with everything in the index of profanity, both for its supposed goading effect and because many men cannot ex- press themselves emphatically without re- course to profanity. For several reasons I do not do it, and never have. I am not a profane man in the first place. Secondly, I have observed that, like all forms of over- statement, cursing is an opiate and pro- gressively increasing doses are necessary for effect, soon defeating its own purpose. Thirdly, when cursing really does get under the skins of the players, it is likely to leave a permanent wound. Many men have left college with an abiding hatred for a coach who probably bore them no malice what- ever and who had cursed them quite im- personally. At a monthly board meeting in late Octo- ber or early November of 1901, one of the two worst football seasons in Chicago’s an- nals, I was dumfounded when President Harper, who always presided, said to me, “Mr. Stagg, I understand that you are do- ing a lot of swearing on the athletic field.” ‘*Doctor Harper, I never swear at any time; I don’t believe in swearing at a team, November 6, 1926 and I can’t understand how such a report could be circulated or credited,’’ I replied. Professor Thatcher, of the history de- partment, a football fan who watched the practice daily, rose to my defense. ‘‘I] am sure, Doctor Harper, that you are misin- formed,”’ he said. *‘I am on the field every day, and in years I never have heard Mr. Stagg utter an oath. The only thing | ever heard him say that would even approximate an oath was ‘Oh, the devil!’”’ Up to now the president’s face had been perfectly straight. ‘Perhaps that is the trouble,” he suggested withagrin. ‘‘ Maybe the team would do better if you cussed a little.”’ “It is true that Stagg does not swear at his men,’’ Coach Zuppke told his class in coaching once. ‘But he calls this man a jackass, then that man a jackass, then an- other a jackass. By the end of the work- out there are no human beings left on the field.”’ I do use that epithet. John Schommer, who was on the ‘08 football team, now a widely known football and basket-ball offi- cial, advanced the claim at an alumni meet- ing some time back that he was the original member of the Jackass Club. ‘‘I not only have been called a jackass but two jack- asses,’’ he boasted. He inquired if any fel- low members of the club were present. There was a large showing of hands, and Schommer elected himself president of the club. Zuppke’s course in coaching includes a study of the personalities of various coaches. I was told once that he described me to his class as a gambler. This was at a period when I had a very light back field and was forced to take chances. I vary from taking a lead-off to hugging the base, depending entirely on the sort of material I have. It is true that Chicago teams have played as open a game as the Conference ever saw, but lately I have been much criticized by the newspapers and students for the closed safety-first style of our tactics. A coach is a semipublic character and a legitimate mark for criticism and advice. After a game he is the recipient regularly of anonymous insults and signed glorifica- tions; but criticism, praise, abuse or ad- vice—I go my way. A coach worth his salt knows his problem a lot more intimately than any onlooker; and knowing it, he must hew to the line, let the alumni, student, newspaper and opposition chips fall where they may. Free Translations I have the name locally of being a bear, so much so that Stagg Fears Purdue is a byword and a jest of the Conference sea- son. Because we have beaten Purdue regu- larly for thirty years, my sincerity is impeached when I decline to assume that we will do it again. Purdue grows more for- midable annually and is less and less to be taken lightly; but apart from that, it never is safe to assume that you can defeat any team. You may have eleven faster, heavier, headier men, but the other fellow may land on you with intangibles that can’t be shown on any form chart. He may, for instance, be taking, with the high resol ve of a crusader off to the holy wars, a game which you hav> thought of only as an interlude between two Saturdays of importance. I have still further reason to guard my tongue. The newspapers have a way of freely translating a coach’s comment. If I am asked by a reporter what I anticipate from Purdue and I say “‘ We ought to win,” I am more likely than not to find myself quoted in the next day’s headlines this- wise: Stagg Says Maroon Will Smear Purdue. ‘‘We ought to win”’ is tame and tasteless, and reporters, with a _ profes- sional instinct for the dramatic, rewrite it for you. A coach does not need the gift of tongues to exhort his team to tearful tautness, for the bigger games, at least. We are, con- trary to tradition, one of the most emotional of peoples, and the whole atmosphere of Continued on Page 117

Page 117

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HEN you buy an electric refrigerator ask these questions: Is the organization that builds it permanent and reliable? Are its dependability and econ- omy thoroughly established? > Frigidaire is a product of General Motors. More Frigidaires are in use today than all other makes of a Casu(buseuiorlceureeeletecer — RIGIDAIRE offers more value for the price than any other electric refrigerator. For example, Model M-5-2, illustrated at the right, has over tive cubic feet of food storage capacity. The cooling mechanism has suthcient extra capacity to freeze ice quickly on the hottest of days. It is quiet and economical in operation. It has the absolute dependability of all Frigidaires. The thoroughly insulated metal cabinet 1s_beautitully finished inside and outside in gleaming white, and the price is only $225 t.o. b. Dayton. All Frigid aires tor household or commercial use may be pur chased on the General Motors det payment plan. A copy of the Frigidaire Catalog may be had on request by addressing Frigidaire, Dayton, Ohio, o1 at any sales office. Q Q 9 | PI@h CULPe

Page 118

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 anditry 1s AYTO | OT) A fT) (ji IC - re | en, vite Y Cote veg jrured @ America’s a. Ave you willing to help put an end to it ? NEW! The Super-Speed is made in hand and electric operated models. Operates like an adding machine, The fastest check- writing machine made 1200 to 1500 checks an hour. Takes checks singly or in sheets. Repeats any amount by touching ey Can be cleared instantly for cor- rections. Prints in two colors. Sturdy, all metal stand aids in efficiency and speed of machine HE victim is studied long before the attack. speedier, more econom- The event is timed to seconds. A few vi- ical, more couvenient, cious blows .. . a few deadly shots and then— and safer than ever be- the getaway—previously planned and guarded fore. For The Todd by accomplices. The bandits disappear with Company has perfected the payroll . . often murderers as well as the fastest and simplest robbers. check-writing machine You shudder as you read nearly every day ever made—the Todd the accounts of payroll robberies. You marvel Super-Speed Protectograph. It writes the Send the coupon below, attached to your busi at the efficiency of these desperate though amount line on checks at the phenomenal rate — ness letterhead, and we will mail you our com cowardly thugs. Even the police dread a battle — of 1200 to 1500 an hour. prehensive little book, “Modern Payroll Prac- with them The amount is shredded in indelible ink into tice.” Every executive and every banker will But did it ever occur to you that you, un- the very fiber of the paper. No chance of rais- find in it much new and valuable information. wittingly, might be helping these desperadoes ing it even though a forger should get hold of The Todd Company, Protectograph Division. continue their terrifying business? For, as long it. No shortage claims. No lining up for (Est. 1899). Rochester, N.Y. Sole makers of as payroll cash is carried by messengers or han- pay. Above all, you are freed from the worry the Protectograph, Super-Safety Checks and dled in offices, payroll banditry will certainly — of handling payroll cash on your premises Todd Greenbac Checks Hourish. ¢ ” The omlal ¢ " i Let a Todd Expert show you the Super-Speed THE TODD COMPANY, Protectograph Division 11-26 a ee eee , ; cheats tha — Bsus tu ceidl thts teten of terror Protectograph, and de monstrate it unprec ay Weenie Aan. team Oe iW 6 dented speed, simplicity, case of operation and Gentlemen: Please send me a copy of “Modern Pa ii} F bs ° : : oll Practice und detailed informatior ibou e lodd | More and more business men are seeing the im- economy. Also, see how the patented self-void system of Check Protection i portance of abolishing the cash payroll system. ing features of Todd Greenbac Checks auto . , . e » » : Name They pay-by-check and thereby thwart the bandits. — matically defeat the forger’s attempts to alter 7 i They pay-by-check and guard their money and the them. And find out how great a saving you 8 \) lives of their employees. as a qualified Todd user are entitled to in’ the * And today this system of paying is easier, purchase of Standard Forgery Bonds. TODD SYSTEM OF CHECK PROTECTION Todd Greenbaec Che chs, with their patented selt Standard Forgery Bonds The Protectograph elimi- caneeling features, elimi : Fas cover the remaining check } nates a large percentage of nate another major source : fraud possibilities, namely ill cheek frauds by pre- xa lil? 4 ot possible check losses by ao : forgery of Sirnature ind venting raised amounts. Lawé dt ‘ - preventing change rf Sen forgery of endorsement : | The Protectograph is made = ¢@ > payees name, date and Pe Qualified Todd user ! { ‘ in a variety of standard Ger sS5i¥f 90 at number and “‘eounterfeit- x 2 vive policies at tl most r| ! models, one for every type 23tes 23 ces. ing.” Superbly printed or ~ idvantageous discount j { of business, priced from lithographed, they ire ee from the Metropolita i $37.50 up. Only Todd can made only to order, never Casualty Insurance Com make «a Protectograph sold in blank. piny, New Yo (

Page 119

Continued from Page 114 college life conspires toward this end. The day tl! on the campus he is caught up in a sent ment more \ rate than anything he will experience in life. He may, and will, I hope iis children, his par- and even | al at any love his wife, |} country 1is work more is alma mater, but than he does } he will not He is trained iis outward emotions SO Openly demonstrative rb |} toward his ily; too loud insistence on his love for ] 1} Only Will his country discredit his sincerity, but he is ¢ 1 and expected to em- brace his ve in public without in- hibitions or self-consciousness I have seen more tears shed on football elds than an Kast Lynne matinée found it clamp down on team « ever set loose—even have necessary to vefore a game. wrought up before the The the field and we followed. } rving yt ohh, Chicago was h Princeton game of Tigers came on Suddenly the apparent reason, warming up, le something like thing unusual about huddled together in home team withdrew, for no moments’ for a few aving Cl icago waiting ve minutes. I sensed some- my who were midfield, and I found blubbering and talking wildly | tood by and watched them closely until Princeton came tr come; now snap into it,”’ I told men, me tting } oO vba ‘Here they them. The sudden withdrawal may have been part of Princeton p I doubt it. More likely Roper merely had called his f é word the final game of the season, when the team is for the last time, sentiment the ychologyv. but team back Before playing together strong. and often I have found the men tearful before I opened my mouth pregame talk. yralls s unusually most ready weepers are not neces- those who are the most deeply touched, of course. Some men merely have less control than others. Frank Edwards’ howled dis- in the dressing room after each of the He quotes Johnny Poe as having said: ‘‘ This but Morse, of Princeton, writing in book, testified that the team mally ve defeats in which he participated. sob stuff gives me a pain, t's like sea- *‘KneSS sich when the rest tune up, it’s hard to | I don’t want to ke ep out of it Besides get a reputation of being too stuck up to do what the rest of the gang do.”’ Poe was a Richard n the life. Harding Davis hero A surpassing football player, to die val k Watch at a soldier of for ne became action with tk It is t Princeton, he was a coach | small at he would stand without padding the squad Smacked to “Come on. although he was a man, tl heaviest at full speed. would me September and toree the men on o tackle him eart! ne r ise with a men, hit harde and be a mass of bruises all Sob Stories ar Old Rutgers has come to 1 It was captain of the Rutgers was using old V wedge against Princeton. The Tigers broke it up, and incidentally broke Brett’s leg both heroic line of footbs authored by Phil Brett, l Rutgers eleven. eTocs 1891 Brett was and mock heroic. Sitting on the ground, wait- ng for a stretcher, he asked insouciantly or a Cigarette, then added, “ I could die for The unseled him, dear old Rutgers.”’ runs that a Princeton play but that sounds apocryphal, Poe, fficially denied it When Edy he asked Poe for his version story rer ct tics lohnnyv who played In that game, irds was compiling his book Writing from the 1 of encountering Nevada shortly eni sted In > > ritish Army, Poe tol I I I srett fifteen years after that 1591 game srett confided in his old foe that his life had been a burden ever since, and that he was one with Job. At least once a week he lf to the greeting: ‘‘ Hello, dying for dear old Rutgers had to steel himse Phil, old tnese man; days?” e impressionable freshman arrives THE SATURDAY As far back as the 80's, Alex Moffatt, that ambipedextrous Princetonian, had to his mates, after a disastrous first ‘cut out this blubbering and get to Jim He rgan, ne tain of the Yale w dead, was cap- 1904 team, which lost to the Army, after whipping Harvard and Princeton. He broke up a cry fest in the dressing rooms at West Point by exclaim- no g, “‘Quit being sorry for start yourselves and nguring out how it 't happen agair After Princeton’s « Princeton nappened so that t wor efeat of Yale in 1893 one ol the coacnir iy committee held up his arms for silence in the Tiger dressing room at Manhattan Field and said, ‘‘ Boys, I want you to sing the dox- ology.”” Standing as they were, naked, muddy, sweaty, some smeared with blood, they sang that hymn of praise and giorifica- tion without a thought of irreverence, from beginning to end. Stolen Signals Bill Edwards tells of an experience of his Rear Admiral was commandant of the academy. first half of a game with the C Indians had ended 11 to 6 against the Navy and Edwards was exhorting the team dur- the bluff old the made a blistering coaching days at Annapolis Gra! ariisie ing intermission, when sea dog burst in and speech of his own, built around his opinion of white men who would from Indians. Smarting mandant’s quarter-deck language, the Mid- dies went out and won, 17 to 11. Another time, Ingram was coaching at Annapolis The September day was hot and the squad was listless at work-out. One player called the squad stopped d yelled for water “Water! Water!” Ingram raged. “ you need is fire, n In 1896 take a licking under the com- for water, then whole What yt water!” we the Illinois game at Champaign in the last half minute of play, after we twice had held them on our three- won yard and defeat had seemed certain On the march to the Illinois goal, a steady ng through two and ] a time, Gordon Clark had used over and over. Illinois time that he was going to carry line procession of hammer three yards at peen had known eacl ll and pretty well where to carry it, I but he was inspired as play rarely are, and the 147-pound not be stopped Hersc} a bone in his foot in th he was going boy could berger had broken e first few minutes and gone out of the game, a vital loss to us, and Clark had risen to super heights in this crisis. He was so terrifically wrought up that he was unable to relax after the game We had training quarters on the top floor of Snell Hall in 1897, and I was so disturbed by Clark's emotional tension that I decided night there. He could I finally had to crawl into bed night with him. I never have known a man so keyed up. to spend the not leep, and with him and talk all This was no sensitive, flowerlike plant. Clark W as the ringleader of the crowd that kept me in hot the late 90's, and rst championship. Though frank water in won our fi and honest, he was a handful, a dare-devil I caught and had to fire him off the costing us t bravo him smoking once baseball team, e championship that season a tight rein on my result of years of self-control I Keel the + must own emotions A coach strategy, not To be « aespair or joy would be keep his mind on the the immediate score arried by eitner y his performance. There will be after the time enoug game to mope or exult, if he feels Ke it he crying of individual players in the but right half, cried midst of a game is not a commonplace; Harry Thomas, C} from beginning to end of the Ohio State contest of 1922, all the while pl 1¢ ago plaving one of EVENING POST the most brilliant all-around game I ever saw. They may fror eneral rag over a specific break in the game Ir 919 Wisconsin scored a tou iown on us In the last two n tes t ) tain, a six-foot-four t ema as subst tuting ! the reg ilety mar na peer ired He int iW nmar ran tne ba ly eT f and our man miss¢ s tackle He i not just e held re ! e, f e wa unused to the safety ] tion t eaned against the goal post and f thet cally Had the fault } n entire i t know that Is taker m to ta I do my utmost t the men to the toy of their forn i! emotior fo a game it when it S | ive I se the book if I car If a man turns ye A t is anothe Case therwise I nave Ir f sire to naunt hin ke the ghost of Hamle father the rest of Ss natura ie Il once selected the nhignest honor within n power a man who had failed me ignomini- ously, but not for lack of courage, in a big game, costing us the game. I gave him the award because it was justly his. Despite this one itast he, he had deserved the onor more than anyone eis | take my foothe very seriously but I try to preserve a sense of proportion. Un- natural riv alry used to be aggravate din the The team managers trusted one another's honor the The rigid eligibil Conference by quarrels over finances as little as and teams in the C respective student bodies ty agreement ynference removed one source of We have scotched the tramp- athlete evil, although there is somé grum- poison and there Three times a year the athletic directors of the Big Ten meet for a frank interchange, and ar we have a interpretation meeting. The 7 ’ Diing over snap courses here once a ye rules- pre sider cy and secretaryship of t bodies shift al- phabetically. F years ago we commissioner of athletics, appropriation of salary and expenses ese created a with a biennial $25,000 to defray his His office is a clearing for the athletics of the ten universi hous« ties. There is no more newspaper quarrel- he number of a team has been ing between the schools. scouts allowed to reduced to one, observer In S not a spy but an othe my time at Chicago I have had three different sets of opponent sent me by men interested in Chicago. 1 Sald nothing to my team and tore the sig nals up, unread, in each case; but that day is done with Just Before the Battle One of the earliest important gains for the good of the game maae in the C onler ence was the host-and-guest agreement This gentleman’s agreement first was adopted by Harry Williams, of Minnesota and myself in 1906. The following season Wisconsir came into the compact, and by 1911 it was universal in the Big Ten. The agreement stipulated that the home tean In each case should Manage the business end of the game, rendering a detailed state ment of receipts and expenses to the s ing team, which should accept it without questior The n tne ght before the M two teams dined together f paper fun was poked at t purity banquet but the idea spread. We introduced it t the startled Cornell eleven when tl played us in Chicag n 1908. When Co nell came to Chicago f yurth of tha series of games in 1911, er, we d covered that the were ( ga si 1 team fraternizing purposes and an en tirely distinct squad for playing football This discovery was made gradually in the course of the dinner, when (¢ wo players asked to I hat opponent ave this and pointed out to them. The eleven men who played against us the next day and lest, by a remarkabie coincidence, a nad heen ae tained unavoida The ba peiongs to tne tor ol any\ game. In case of tie it used to belong to the acobs Oregon City Woolens

Page 120

118 Perfect Feet are iy TeCCIOUS. Bir thr, ight Buster's Picture in Every Pair BUSTER BROWN Jer BOYS IEALTH SHOES 101 Girls HE shoes that your children wear are the most important item of their apparel. Better economize anywhere than on their shoes. Buster Brown Health Shoes train child- hood’s tender, easily molded feet to grow as nature intended they should. ‘They are scientifically designed to keep the feet healthy. They guard against foot troubles and also against those minor ailments of adult life which are traceable to feet which have lost their natural perfection, Conserve for your children the priceless heritage of perfect feet. Select their es with utmost care. For the sake of cir health, let price be a secondary sideration Bust er - Brown He alth Shoes come in the season’s most delightful styles for children. The health features add fo rather than detract from the smart appearance an 1 by auty of the shoes. / ; f , j , . Zz DY beiter Vf ind Department ore hve Neve WWD SOc Gowan ST. LOUIS Manufacturers Also Manufacturers of Brownbilt Shoes for Men and Women Daily Capacity 60,000 Pairs 16 Great Specialty Factories. THE SATURDAY heel firmly in an uprigh asur me nie distribute the EVENING POST most belligerent, and battle royals some- times followed the final whistle. Two teams worked up to big-game tension, with their very souls concentrated on that leather oval, are not always to be snapped back by a whistle to the rational view of it as a routine item of merchandise to be had at any sport-goods shop for twelve dollars. In 1908 Chicago set the precedent of waiving the ball at the end of a 6 to 6 game. Cornell gave us the ball after another 6 to 6 tie the following year, and we gave it to Jack Wilce, now coach at Ohio State, the Wisconsin captain in 1909, after still an- other 6 to 6 draw. The tension has eased since then, but after the epic 21 to 21 battle with Illinois in 1924, we waived the ball to our visitors. Old-timers batted their eyes at the spec- tacle of the Wisconsin student body meet- ing the Chicago team at the station at Madison in 1908 and dragging the bus to the hotel. In 1910 the entire student body of Purdue met the Indiana team at the sta- tion with expressions of welcome that had been strikingly lacking in previous years. In our 1908 game with Wisconsin, Pat Page was thrown against the fence and hurt. The Badger team, instead of holding him to the two-minute-time-out rule, urged him to take all the time he needed, and Keckie Moll complimented Steffen on a superb tackle at Moll’s expense. Two years later Captain Crawley, of Chicago, interceded with Umpire Wrenn to permit Buser, of Wisconsin, who had been disqualified for roughness, to remain in the game. The women of Chicago gave a luncheon for the coeds of Wisconsin before the 1909 game at Chicago, and the Wisconsin women re- turned the compliment at Madison in 1910. The Creed of C Men All this, following on the revolution of 1906, when the life of the sport was in peril, was just a little too good to be true, perhaps. Pre-1906 veterans demanded to know what the game was coming to. They have had their answer. We no longer banquet one another on the eve of battle and it has been some time since we have been given a Brother Elk welcome at the station, but these amenities have served their purpose and there no longer is need for them. Prior to 1905 we awarded a new sweater with the C to members of teams at the close of the season of the specific sport, without ceremony. We still give them their sweater and letter as before, but since 1905 we have invested all C men with a maroon blanket centered with a white C at the annual uni- versity sing on the Quadrangle at com- mencement. As the last event the C men march in in a body, singing their Song of the C, and I enrobe each in his blanket. The ritual is mine, a part of my effort to drama- tize the sport. It has been copied widely. The blankets are woven to our order. Each sport is represented by a different-colored star, with black reserved for captains. The letter system already was in vogue when | played at Yale, but there was no ceremony. If a man played on a Yale team, he wore a Y sweater as aright. The practice varies now with different colleges, but in the Big Three the letter now is reserved for men who have played in the big game of the schedule. One instant in the line-up qualifies as I understand it, and it is not unusual for a coach to send in men for a moment merely to qualify them for their letter. In 1904 I organized the Order of the (¢ the first athletic-letter club ever formed. The members meet once a year at a dinner. Their pledge reads: ‘“‘We hereby denote ourselves as members of the Order of the University of Chicago C Men, avow our steadfast loyalty to our alma mater and pledge our enduring support of her athletic honor and tradition.’ The award of the C is made by the Board Physical Culture and Athletics on my recommendation. Occasionally I have de- nied it to men who played full time in every game and given it to others who served much less. The first class were men whom November 6,1926 I had to use for lack of better, but I told them frankly that they failed to qualify in manhood. With the C goes a code. A man must be an amateur in spirit and in act, disdainful of subterfuge and dishonesty and ashamed to sell his athletic skill. He must be a gen- tleman and a sportsman, unwilling to win by cheating or unfair tactics. He must train hard and conscientiously and willingly make personal sacrifice to produce the best that is in him, then give it freely and loyally to the team and to the university. Finally he must have attained distinction in his work ona varsity team, or have done a good quality of work and rendered valuable service to the university over a period of two years or more. I have a form letter of notification which reads in part: “ because of your ath- letic service to the university, along with a certain measure of athletic proficiency, your faithfulness to practice and to the rules of training, your fidelity to fair play and geod sportsmanship, and your loyalty to the athletic ideals of the university. . . The honor carries with it the continued re- sponsibility that you live worthily of i since it represents manly achieveme nt, gen- erous rivalry, good sportsmanship, fidelity to amateurism and loyalty to the univer- sity.” A man who subscribes to this creed is not likely to turn professional, and scarcely more than half a dozen C men have trav- eled that road in the university’s history. There is nothing intrinsically dishonorable about it, but a boy who has earned a collegs degree and his letter ought to have an equip- ment of character, knowledge and fight worthy of aman’s size job, instead of snatch- ing at the first roll of soft and easy money in sight. I never did a wiser thing than refusing the $4000 a season offered me by the New York Nationals in the 80’s, when that sum just about represented the national wealth to me. If it is money that the college man wants he ought to be able to make more on a real job than by peddling a phys- ical skill. If it is fame let him go after brand that won’t turn green and shiny in the seat before he is thirty, and isn’t common to beauty-contest winners and local pie-eating, horseshoe-pitching and Charleston-contest medal men. Professional Football Just now we are seeing a renascence of professional football which flourished twenty-five years ago in the steel towns of the Pittsburgh region and has fluctuated fitfully since, losing more money for its promoters than it has made. So far there has been no continuity to it, but it is being financed on a new scale now, and the out- come remains to be seen. It is purely a parasitical growth on intercollegiate foot- ball, an attempt to commercialize the enormously increased popularity of the college game, and it recruits its players very largely from college ranks. Person- ally I shall be a bit surprised if it succeeds. Though it came into competition with the college game last season, it usually made money only in cities where Sunday playing is permitted. In the first place football is so indissolu- bly tied up with college life that I doubt that it can live in professional soil. The spectacle is as much a part of college foot- ball as the game itself, and the spectacle is the spontaneous product of the campus It is youth, incarnate, dramatized. The synthetic counterfeits of collegiate enthu- siasms which some professional clubs have been trying to manufacture have been as rollicking as a sinkful of dirty dishes before breakfast. More tangible is the fact that they play a pretty stuffy brand of football, inevitably You may have heard the story of the young- ster fresh from varsity romance, ramping about the field on his first day as a pro and being frowned upon by a fellow pro, now four years away from a campus. } Continued on Page 120)

Page 121

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST DANDRUFF r Now you can control 1t! You need worry no more about dandruff, that un- complicated. You simply douse it on your scalp, full sightly nuisance, so embarrassing to both women and __ strength, and massage thoroughly. You'll enjoy thi men. cleansing refreshing effect. And you will be amazed to see how this treatment, followed sys As you probably know, dandruff is a germ disease tematically, does the trick that no intelligent, fastidious person can afford to neglect. Because so often it is a warning of more Moreover, Listerine will not dis serious scalp trouble—possibly baldness. *¥o" color the hair nor will it stain fabrics : : “4 W ' . There is one ideal treatment to control » And it is not greasy - ,» © dandruff conditions—the systematic use -. Og \e . Try Listerine for dandruff. You'll of Listerine, the safe antiseptic. It really FO went”. x wwe" be delighted with the results works wonders this way. wget ot © iu Lambert Pharmacal! Co., St The use of Listerine for dandruff is not = gie® J * st Lours, U.S.A —and dandruff simply do not get along together

Page 122

Continued from Page 118 How do you get that way?” inquired “You're no hero now; you're ust a hired man.” That sums up the professional game and will, so far as I can see. I have all along that football is a sport dis- t in character. There is no reason why 1 man can’t play baseball or tennis or run the 220-high hurdles as well for money as he for love of his college and the sport; but have no such emotional basis as foot- nor do they demand a like physical cS Professional football players do not be- Men can’t be expected run to arms in defense of their boarding If they are hurt they are off the pay ntil they are whole again; a serious iry, and they are done for good. Mean- they have annoyed the management rcing them to scurry up a substitute, for there are no benches of eagcr subs on the ielines. They are, furthermore, more isceptible to injury, because they are older and, as a rule, slacking off in eir training. When a man shakes off the motional compulsions, the close scrutiny ind the ethics of college athletics, he cannot »expected to take training rules too seri- isly. They call for too many sacrifices nd they are not strictly necessary to the , 1} to give tnelr all. rrowing ofessional game. Heart Interest in Athletics I know of a former college athlete who should not weigh more than 200 pounds in training. Weighing 250, he is captaining and playing with a professional eleven, and taking tender care of a paunch. The col- ege athlete, with his name on a contract ind an assured income in sight, frequently Loved fishing, too, and was a fisherman parts, it appeared. I thought Chet him- self had almost a mystic mystery of the art, but Chet assured me that Uncle Joe could fish a pool which he himself had fished most and take fish of noble girth and powers in waters Chet would have sworn And Uncle Joe was a fox hunter, and he had a hound which he sometimes brought to the farm above the village; then he and Chet would start the dog on a track in the valley along the river, and sprint like younglings to their vantages, to wait for th hance of a shot that sometimes diligently, were dry. tne long came, ‘It'd surprise you to see hirn get up the hill,’ Chet told me, chuckling at the recol- ection, ‘“‘big as he was. He'd be red in the face and look like he was busting, but he got there just the same.” \ man, I came to see, who lived robustly; who found in life a gusto; who ate, drank and took his pleasures like the giants of old. \ man, in short, of whom it was necessary to disapprove Mrs. id comparison; onfection; her taked beans are an orgy; her salt pork fried n its own fat is delicious beyond imagining; ‘omforting as a caress; and The fare at the farm is hearty fare. McAusland is a cock beyo 1a biscuits are a ner pl t s ner ples are a there ake which she makes, of Z is compounded of cut raisins Is a certain which the ici } and sugar and the white of eggs and a little ruined Saint cream, which might have Anthony. Such viands are fit to make a man willing to swing a double-bitted ax all day, if only in order to create a vacuum hich may be filled. Yet it is not necessary to swing an ax. One may tramp diligently thr rough the coverts or along the brooks, and scant his luncheon, and thus persuade himself that it is meet and wise to eat his rhis new sin of eating is not yet firmly seated on its throne; a casuistic conscience may yield a point at times. But Chet, as a matter of fact, has no ) patience with such scruples at all; he is marries at once—another complication. Love of wife and home are admirable social qualities, but they do not stimulate to deeds of high emprise on the football field. I know by general report among coaches and play- ers, and by circumstantial evidence, that a tacit understanding to give the best show they can at the least expense to their bodily comfort is not uncommon to both sides in a professional game. Football on such terms is a travesty, a Shetland pony rodeo, a vegetarian guzzle. I know the temper of the customers of other professional sports, the hooting, scornful taskmasters who crack the whip over box- ers and baseball players, and I wonder. But my lively objection is not so much to the sport as to its attempt to associate with the college game, and exploit it. Should it succeed, it may easily destroy collegiate football. Once the college game becomes a nursery for professional gladia- tors, we shall have to plow up our football fields. Now it is a training in character and a moral asset to the school. The day boys play with one eye on the university and the other on professional futures, the sport will become a moral liability to the colleges. No great thing ever is accomplished with- out a sustained background of deep feeling. This is the intangible, imponderable under- lying motive, the heart interest, of-college athletics. The only analogy I think of is love of country. Mercenary troops are serviceable for routine fighting, but when they come to grips with patriots on any- thing like even terms, they break and run. I fancy that many a fine boy playing pro- fessional football has had his moments of chagrin as he contrasted the imitation with the original. In the Conference we have drawn the line as sharply as we have known how and THE SATURDAY EVENING POST have made ineligible for any coaching posi- tion anyone who has played for hire. That alarm has not extended to the East. Arnold Horwein, who became head coach of the Harvard squad this fall, played profes- sional football under the name of McMahon on the Chicago Cardinals up to the time of his Harvard appointment. The Chicago precedent of making a coach a full faculty member at. a faculty salary, now almost universal in the West and South, is a health- ier condition than competitive bidding for coaches with a record. Harvard, Yale and Princeton have found it necessary to agree to limit a football coach’s salary to $8000 and the total football salary list to $21,000 a year. The most ever paid a coach, I be- lieve, was $15,000; the present record is $12,000, being paid on the coast—these sums for ninety days’ work a year. Professional Coaching Schools I came to Chicago at $2500 a year, re- fusing $3000 at Pennsylvania, and my sal- ary was not increased for six years. As athletic director, I took the place of a grad- uate manager, coached the track, baseball and football teams and conducted gym classes. I am the athletic chief executive, answerable to the president of the uni- versity. That state of affairs prevails today outside of Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Cali- fornia, Stanford and a few other colleges. At California and Stanford the Associated Students, with a graduate manager as ex- ecutive, run athletics. In the older Eastern colleges there is an alumni committee of great power for each sport. Yale three years ago and Harvard more recently have added a director of athletics, but neither has created a department of physical edu- cation in the sense we understand it in the THE EFTEST WAY Continued from Page 25) irritated by my occasional half-hearted ab- stinence. “*T’ve et all I wanted all my life,’’ he as- sures me, “‘and it never hurt me any. I’ve lived on doughnuts and cheese and soda biscuits and butter. A man as big as you needs to eat. And you don’t eat as much as me.” This is scarce true. Chet is longer at his eating, because he has so many things to say, but the quantity he eats is small. I try to point this out to him, but he is a man not easy of convincing. “Never did anyone any hurt to eat wholesome victuals,”’ he insists. ‘‘Another piece of pie won't hurt you.” Mrs. Mac sometimes takes my part. ‘* Let him alone, Chet,” she will say. ‘‘ He’s et all he wants. He'll eat more if he wants to.” But this is so manifestly untrue that I point out its falseness to her. ‘‘No, no! I could eat everything in sight, and relish it, and beg for more. But if I did I’d weigh three hundred by Monday.” “Sho!” says Chet. ‘You're walking all day.” ** Well, Isat down now and then to smoke a pipe,’ I confess; “and I lay watching a troutin that pool by the bridge for an hour.” It is an old quarrel, this, with no solution in sight, but it led at last to my hearing the end of the tale of Uncle Joe. So has its uses still. I had been pointing out to Chet that the authorities advocate temperance; that a man may dig his grave with his teeth. I quoted to him this opinion and that and the other. He laughed scornfully enough. “Sho!” he retorted. ‘“‘That’s what the doctors used to tell Uncle Joe.” “TI should judge, from what you've said, he needed telling,’’ I commented. “He never paid any heed to them,” Chet “He used to play poker one night every week with some men in Rock- land, and they had a bottle of whisky apiece, and finished it before they quit, to- ward morning. That was the rule, a part of assured me. the game with them. And the doctors told them it’d kill them all. But Uncle Joe never paid them any heed. And up here he ate three times what you do.”’ He hesitated a moment; and his tone changed, quickened a little as he swung into the tale. ‘‘I mind,”’ he assured me, “‘he told me once. It was when he first started coming up here. ‘Chet,’ he says to me, ‘sometime when we're out gunning to- gether we'll get separated, and when you get back to the buggy I won’t be there. Don’t let it bother you, Chet.’ And I asked him what he meant, and he said he expected to die that way any time. «They tell me I will,’ he told me. ‘Like a birch leaf in the fall, breaking off and settling down on the ground. Without any noise at all, the way they do when the dew’s on them.’’’ And Chet added parentheti- cally: ‘Uncle Joe was a great hand to put things in a queer way.” He puffed at his pipe. “It bothered me some,” he continued slowly. ‘‘I liked Uncle Joe, and I used to tell him he’d ought to drink less, or none at all. But he said it wasn’t just the drinking. He said they wanted him to stop that, but they wanted him to stop smoking, and they wanted him to stop eating, and to stop gunning and walking around. They said exertion might do it, or anything. He’d say: ‘They want I should set at home in a chair all day.’ And he’d shake his head at that, and he'd say: ‘Set ten years in a chair! I'd ruther gun one day and let the chair rock in the wind the next,’ he’d say. “T talked to him and argued with him Chet went on. “It looked like to me it was common sense to try to live as long as he could, and I told him so. It struck me for a spell he was contrary, and I used to get kind of mad at him, but he’d smile at me the way he had and shake his head. And he'd tell me not to get excited. ‘It’s nothing to bother you, Chet,’ he’d say; ‘and I! don’t aim to let it bother me.’”’ He was still. Mrs. McAusland had come in from the kitchen, her dishes done; she some,” November 6, 1926 Conference. At Yale, Tad Jones, the foot- ball coach, is responsible to a committee of the alumni and to the captain, who has no little power at New Haven. Coaching is a routine occupation today, with professional schools of its own. Doc tor Sargent’s course for physical directors at Harvard, including a course on football, was the first, I believe. Since 1906 I have taught classes in football, track and field athletics in the summer quarter at Chicago, but only to regularly enrolled university students. About 1914 George Huff inau- gurated his coaching school for all comers, with a faculty of distinguished coaches, at the University of Illinois, and there are half a dozen such today. This has made for better coaching, and, in turn, for better football the country over. Coaching is the primary factor in football. I should put school traditions second and the raw material not better than third; that is, two schools of approximately equal enrollment start the football season on even terms physically, unless one should chance to have a phenomenon in its student body. The school with the better, deeper tradi- tions will get the great emotional response from its students. The coaching will tell the rest of the tale. How to be a good coach is just as much a mystery as how to be a good general or captain of industry. Like all other jobs above common labor and office routine, it requires a native gift, a feeling for the task, for success. An occasional great coach has been a mediocre player and a number of great players have failed signally as coaches The two jobs have nothing in common ex- cept a knowledge of and a love for the game Editor’s Note—T his is the seventh of a serie f articles by Mr. Stagg and Mr. Stout. The eighth will appear in an early issue said gently, “I used to see him up here, be- fo-> I married Chet. He was a man you couldn’t help liking. It was a wonder the way he stuck at it, too. Where most men would ha’ been in their beds.” ““Was he sick?”’ I asked; and Chet con- sidered. ‘‘Well,”’ he said at last, “‘I don’t know that you’d say he was ever real sick, unless he weren’t ever well. But after a while he had something the matter with his leg. Fell on it and banged his knee and it stiffened up on him, and he used to kind of drag that leg. I thought, first time I saw him after, that he couldn’t get around at all, but he did. It would look like he wasn’t making much progress, but he covered the ground. Only I’d work the dogs and go into the covers, and he’d stay more out in the open ground, that was all. He would have it that we'd go gunning, and I couldn’t make to talk him out of it, and after I see that he got around I didn’t say any more. “He was that way twe Chet assured me. ‘And sometimes he hadn’t hardly any feeling in his leg at all. And he used to say: ‘It'll still keep me up and get me around,’ he used to say. ‘And when it won’t I'll get a wooden one that will. There’s old stubs in the woods been standing a long time, Chet.’”’ Later, it appeared, Uncel trouble with his eyes, and particularly with the left eye. Years of plunging through the birch and alder covers had tortured it sore; the sunlight glinting on the twigs, the twigs slapping at his face, the dust of dried bark, all these combined to produce a _ long- continued irritation. ‘‘He got to wearing glasses,’’ Chet explained. ‘‘And he had a timewiththem. Thedoctorgivehimdoubl vision spectacles, and they'd slide down his nose so he couldn't see without throw ing his head back; and finally he got another pai: and he used to tie them on, but they didn’t He didn’t shoot so good; got to missing birds that he would have killed But he liked it just the same.”’ Continued on Page 125 three years,” F 1 } e Joe had some fit someway.

Page 123

THE SATURDAY EVENING THE tds + She is VUITAL POST SPOTS 12! O F PLUMBING -for her new springtime home This young matron well deserves the compli- ments her architect is paying her. Wisely, she has made a note of every lacking feature where she is now living. She is determined to have real comfort and convenience all through her new home. Frequently, home planners over- look some things but not a detail of any room is escaping her attention. For example, at every water outlet, whether in bathroom, kitchen or laundry, she wants faucets that are quiet, man- ageable and leak-proof — the superior kind of faucets that the Mueller people produce. While modern Mueller Faucets can be quickly installed in even the most old-fash- ioned building, it is a pity to build a new house without them. The faucets, as you may know, are seldom part of the stationary plumbing equipment. The way to make sure of getting Muellers is to ask your architect or contractor to use them—which he will be pleased to do. Mueller Faucets look well, work depend- ably and close positively —which means elimi- nating wasteful, expensive leakage as well as all disturbing faucet sounds. Sixty-nine years of quality manufacturing traditions make them worthy of your confidence. Whether new home or old, the cost of equipping all water outlets with Muellers is agreeably moderate. Dependable hot water also This November weather is a reminder to make sure about your hot water heating sys- tem. The simple, practical solution of this problem is Mueller Automatic Hot Water Control—the modern, economical system for all residences, whether already erected or under way. Its reliability recommends it. MUELLER CO. (Established 1857) Factories: Decatur, Illinois; Port Huron, Michigan Branches: New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles Canadian Factory: MUELLER, Limited, Sarnia MUELLER FAUCETS The merchant plumbers of this country are believers in Mueller quality. Over 300 plumbing jobbers in the U. S. and Canada can promptly supply their needs — assuring you of quick, economical, effi- cient service whether on Mueller Faucets or Muel- ler Automatic Hot Water Control. faucets without a fault

Page 124

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 OUTH is charm, and youth lost is charm lost, as every woman in- stinctively realizes. To keep youth, keep the skin clean and the pores open. Banish artificial ways in skin care. Natural ways are best. Use soap, but be sure it is a soap made basically for use on the face. Others may prove harsh. That is why, largely on expert ad- vice, women the world over choose Palmolive for facial use. —

Page 125

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Through the Years— Don't let your youth slip away—start now by preserving it in this simple way that has proved to thousands that one need never be “middle-aged”—unless she chooses. art of never growing old is the art of pre- serving youth in natural ways. Which means, correct skin care every day of one’s life. That is the prescription of Youth, according to foremost skin specialists of the day . . . and the habit of the modern woman. Youth can be preserved. Scores of thousands of women are doing it; scores of them your own acquaintances. The rule starts with proper cleansing of the skin and pores with bland and gentle soap—with Palm- olive and its gentle olive and palm lather used in this way. Do this regularly, and particularly at night Wash your face gently with soothing Palmolive Soap, massaging the lather softly into the skin. Rinse thoroughly, first with warm water, then with cold. If your skin is inclined to be dry, apply a touch of good cold cream—that is all. Do this regularly, and particularly in the evening. Use powder and rouge if you wish. But never leave them on over night. They clog the pores, often enlarge them. Blackheads THE PALMOLIVE COMPANY (Del. Corp.), CHICAGO and disfigurements often follow. They must be washed away. Avoid this mistake Do not use ordinary soaps in the treatment given above. Do not think any green soap, or one repre- sented as of olive and palm oils, is the same as Palmolive. And it costs but 10c the cake! So little that mil- lions let it do for their bodies what it does for their faces. Obtain a cake today. Then note what an amazing difference one week makes. Soap from trees The only oils in Palmolive Soap are the sooth- ing beauty oils from the olive tree, the African palm, and the coconut palm—and no other fats whatso- ever. That is why Palmolive Soap is the natural color that it is else, give Palmolive its natural green color. for palm and olive oils, nothing The only secret to Palmolive is its exclusive blend —and that is one of the world’s priceless beauty secrets. ILLINOIS Palmolive. Soap is untouched by human hands until you break the urapper—it is never sold unwrapped

Page 126

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 The white manicure brush is a gift that has ‘ | a real place on any dressing tabk A helpful service in the wise selection of acceptable and desirable Christmas gifts is brought to your home by the Fuller Man. Among his many suggestions not shown here, are-a number so new it was impossible to include them in this page. Better than ever before, he is prepared this holiday season to bring a Merry Christmas to you and to those whom you wish to remember. The Fuller Brush Company, 1058 Windsor Avenue, Hartford, Conn, \ satiny-smooth Fuller Tray and Scraper of ivory Fullerex to whisk the crumbs from the ° fastidious housewife’s table. a temperature! What is more refreshing than a shower at just the right The Fuller Shower Brush is a welcome gift. Requires no extra plumbing In this ivory Fullerex brush and comb set, the comb rests upright on the tray instead of crushing into the brush when not in use. a | ; “ae 8 ‘oy The A comb, brush, and trong-fibered hiny trench mirror set Fuller Broom that tical gift. It slides under ip in the Boy Scou sweeps so thoroughly and radiators, and into difficult knapsack is a gift with wears so long is a useful gift Gilt sets of six personal Fuller Brushes corners with utmost ease 2 real ‘he-man* appeal — are graceful compliments to the re- clothes and hats. Sets of ivory Fullerex ceiver for lovely hair, well-kept are liked by women—shell Fullerex sets hands, refreshing baths, immaculate are more adapted to masculine taste The chemically-treated Fuller Dry Mop is a prac The Fuller white hand brush with its two brush- ing surfaces is a prized gift in any home To the home-maker who prides herself on the glowing finish of her furniture, give a Fuller furniture set Please the men-folk on your list with [he well-groomed comb and brush sets of Shell Fullerex. man likes the shell They're easily kept clean Fullerex Clothe Brush that flicks off dust and lint lke magic Omran Genuine Fuuter Propucts carry this Red Tip Tag and trade mark Look for both! 5 Fuller Kitchen Sets to keep sinks, bottles, pots and pans bright as new—gilfts to delight recent brides shell Fulle little acce women Pocket comb of ivory Fullerex with rex back and case is a handy ssory tor both men and The Fuller Flesh Brush is stimulating and refreshing—for dry massage or bath—a constant reminder of your thoughtfulness. ; | i Se ee —S Bobbed hair The littlest girl's own “Little Lady's brush, and mirror. Set of smaller comb, areshapedt clothe i gift for the ness womar Fuller Clothes Brushe fit your thoughtfu Dusy busi- Shell Fullerex pocket comb with matching = = = needs a comb ----— 4 é | ssl The shell Fullcrex four-piece | F=j} mace express a= for its care This t of comb and brushes for +4 is why this _ et hair, nails, and clothes starts |= renee Seren t le - the well-dressed man’s day nian sellbcore aap wer ing sheath is - rignt uch a welcome gift L Softly shining hair, exquisite =e Pt} hands, clothes free from dust | sheath—-for ; those who pre- = and lint—if she loves these, fer the shell she Il like this ivory Fullerex set finish for Christmas ml Tl ean. to

Page 127

——————

(Continued from Page 120 I asked abruptly, “‘ What sort of looking man was he, Chet?’’—trying to conjure him up before my eyes. ““Well,”’ Chet told me carefully, ‘‘he was big. Must have weighed two hundred. And Not much taller than me. “And he used to wear an old, ragged gunning coat and long, loose pants. Black serge, I guess they had been. They kind of Boots was too And not very tall. sagged around his shoes. heavy for him, so he wore big shoes. an old faded hat, and his gun over his arm. See him from behind and he looked kind of funny. Knock-kneed, and his legs fat, and one leg dragging, and them old pants of his. Only you couldn’t help thinking he lone well to get around at all.”’ Added, something like contrition in his ‘**T used to laugh, sometimes, watch- ing him. It weren’t so funny either, you might say. I never laughed so’s he could see’’--and sat a moment silent, and said thoughtfully: ‘‘I liked Uncle Joe a lot. We had some good days together.”” And again: ‘He was a man that had ideas about things. And a way of talking.”” And again: “He did like gunning better than anything.” And after a further silence still: “It was a sight that would astonish you, to see him get around, crippled, and half blind; and to hear the way he’d laugh. He liked gun- ning.”’ And finally: “I set out to tell \ ou tones: So came to the ending of the tale. It was, he said, the year after Old Tan- trybogus had the distemper and was still unfit for any strenuous work afield. Uncle Joe came up from Rockland to stay a day or two with Chet at the farm above the village. was late October; the woodcock flight was on. Uncle Joe drove up in his buggy behind his slow old farm horse; and a three-year- old setter dog sat on the seat beside him, nosing the air currents by the roadside all along the way, his nostrils quivering, saliva dripping from his eager jaws. This pup, successor in Uncle Joe’s affections to the she dog which had mothered Old Tantrybogus, was called Don, and a good dog, Chet Well broken, easily handled, a slow worker and a close one. Uncle Joe would not permit him to retrieve, but Don was trained to find and point the dead bird. A black-and-white dog, his markings great glistening ebony against his gleaming coat. ‘You could see him in the brush, four five rod,’’ Chet told me, “ marked the way he was. Uncle Joe never used a bell on him Season said. splashes of ali Uncle Joe’s old ten-gauge gun lay in the bed of the buggy, half beneath the seat, in ts battered case so frayed by usage that the stiff leather had become like velvet. [he old man wore his gunning clothes; three or four boxes of shells were all his uggage. The day was fine and crisp and fair, with a sky like wine and a friendly sun, and the bright mosaic of late-autumn coloring upon the hills and in the valley of the river there below the farm. When the buggy turned into the farmyard and Chet went out from the kitchen Don leaped bounding to the ground, touched Chet's hand with his nose in swift greeting, and considered the case of three hens scratching by the pump shed with a half-concealed nterest inherited from his puppy days. And Uncle Joe called: “Chet, my boy, what a day!” “Indian summer,’ Chet assented. “There'll be a frost tonight. The birds’ll be on the dry knolls in the morning.” “IT tell you, Chet,”” Uncle Joe cried, “I’ve heen singing to myself this last three miles. I:ven Don here has been whining like an old fool. A man forgets the way the hills an look, one year to another, seems to ne i ‘“‘T been gathering apples this afternoon,” Chet said, “‘and watching the shadows er on the mountain, crossing there.” ‘‘Any whitewash in your garden this morning?’’ Uncle Joe was out by now, Chet leading the horse to the barn.

THE SATURDAY “Two or three woodcock in there last night,’’ Chet assured him. “‘ They’re every- where.” ““A great day tomorrow, Chet.” “We'll find birds,’’ Chet agreed. Uncle Joe drew a brown parcel from be- neath the seat. ‘‘I brought some sausage,” he explained. ‘‘ We'll feast tonight and gun tomorrow. What's wrong with a world like that, Chet?”’ And —“‘Not a thing,’’ Chet told him. ““Notathing at all."” They were both warm with friendship, with the pleasure of this renewed companionship; they talked like boys of the great sport the next day would And they cooked the sausage and Chet boiled potatoes and made pancakes and brought a flake of honey from the cellar, to and they feasted bring. loose sausage freshly ground serve instead of syrup; together while Don sat at attention by his master’s side and had his supper, too, and then slept on the rug beside the table. And sometimes as he dreamed his tail tap- tapped upon the floor. They sat late, and there was a well-filled glass at Uncle Joe’s right hand and a broad beam of pleasure in his eyes. Before sleep they went out to view the stars, serene and high, and to feel the low wind that blew soothingly. ‘‘Not enough to keep it from freezing in the swamps and wet holes,’ Uncie Joe opined, and they saw good promise for the coming day. The morning was like the fulfillment of a pledge in measure bountiful. A rime of frost on the grass in the orchard at dawn; the still leaves falling soundlessly; the aira liquid, lovely pool of iridescence; the far hills near and friendly in their festa! garb; and the sky a blue that eased the eye. The horse was fed, and Don too. ‘I wouldn't even scant a dog,’ Uncle Joe used to say. And themselves finished the sausage and had fresh pancakes with honey, and coffee, but they ate notsolong; were both afire to be afield. Chet wrapped biscuits for their nooning, and while the sun still hung low above the mountain to the east they turned the buggy toward the cover where their sport began. And forthwith struck birds. This was one of those days of which the gunner dreams, when sky and wood and earth and the game combine to make all delight. Before they had crossed the first stone wall Don made game and brought a woodcock to stand, and Chet walked up on the bird and crumpled it as it topped the low birches on the knoll. Uncle Joe, outside the covert, waited to shoot if there were need. “It was the way we'd gunned last two, three years,” Chet explained. “I'd walk up the birds and shoot them if I got a chance, and if I missed he’d pick them off with that old ten-gauge of his. Mighty few that ever got away. But I shot better than I knew how that day.” At the end of an hour Chet had half a dozen birds and Uncle Joe had not pulled trigger, and Chet began to be ashamed. So when the next one whistled upward he held his fire, and he heard Uncle Joe’s gun roar and roar again, and then he heard the old man laugh aloud and call: “Missed, by Harry! Missed him clean. What good’s a man with glasses on?”’ Laughed at his own failure. Said he must be getting old. It was one of those days when, unac- countably, a woodcock may be seen upon the ground. There are such days, and there are other times when you know where the bird must be and look till your eyes ache without being able to discover his form against the background of the leaves, so cunningly his plumage blends against their browns. But now and then, for no reason, you see bird after bird. It is hardly possible for the dog to hold a point without your being able to discover the game there before his nose. And this was such a day; the birds lay they would scarce be driven into flight. You could, if you moved near, stand still and watch their wonder there, and see their brivht black eves close; EVENING POST Chet saw the second bird he shot, before it rose, and thereafter others. Toward noon Don got a point in the fringe of alders near where Uncle Joe was posted, and Uncle Joe called Chet to come and se« Don was still as stone, and half a dozen feet from his nose the bird crouched, ¢ yes alert moving not at all “Ain't that a picture, now Uncle Joe cried. Chet nodded and filled his pipe, and Don held his point and the bird waited to see what was to come Chet filled his pipe and looked about, and said almost regret fully: ‘He’s got to fly off in the oper “Watch him,”’ Uncle Joe bade. “‘ Watch his eye, Chet.” These two loved gunning, but it was be- coverts and the hill the bright October days and the brown birds. They watched for minutes on end, and Don rolled his eyes on them re- provingly, wondering at this long delay, but held his point. And at length Uncle Joe went slowly forward, step by cautious step, till he was within one pace of the bird. He extended the barrel of his gun very slowly, and when it drew near the wood- cock opened wide its beak, as though it And Uncle Joe burst into a delighted shout of laughter, and Chet too. At the loud sound the woodcock rose; rose and hung like a ball of feathers on a cause they loved the sides, would have bit the steel. string, and flew and neither lifted gun. ‘Now wa'n't that comical “I’ve seen ‘em that way in nesting sea- Uncle Joe commented ‘“*Never this away, ( het cned son,” time of year.” Don looked at them in some disgust, and affectation of indifference he scratched his side. And they went forward upon their business again. There were other moments in that day. Once Don partridge through birches to a hemlock fringe with open ground beyond and pointed there, and Chet, thinking to drive the bird into the open for more easy shooting, burst through the fringe past the pointing dog. But the partridge rose and beat up within arm's length of Chet’s head, and back through the fringe and away, and they laughed to- gether over this. “*T could have shot him,” fessed, ‘‘ but he was so clever, ducking back with an roaded a I nele Joe con- on you that way, I let him get away.” A little later in an open birch growth another partridge rose wild to their right, and Uncle Joe fired so quickly Chet called “Did you get him “Didn't even see him,” fessed. “If I got that bird it’s as good a shot as I ever made. And I think I did.” They found the bird, in fact, and Uncle Joe was immensely pleased. “If I can nail ‘em like that I’m not through yet,” exultantly, and Chet gave him ful Uncle Joe con- he said meed of praise, and the old man was as delighted as a child. And again, following a wood road through a thick swamp they discovered Don was not at heel and went point, standing in the very road ‘Caught the Uncle Joe pointed out, * back and found him at scent as he went by,” and never moved, except his head. That's a picture, Chet “There's the bird,’ Chet whispered, and they saw the woodcock squatting on the leaves, three feet away. Beyond him was thick cover hemlock and spruce and cedar, with leafless alders all between. The odds were with the rising bird. When he did rise he flicked behind a hemlock, but Uncle Joe, following caught a far flash of wing and fired, and Don found the bird a full forty yards from the road, stone dead “And that’s a good Joe. patiently his flight, There was fire in them, and youth, and zeal, and they hunted diligently and they, traveled far. The day drew or gan to send more level rays dancing from The sun be- the birch twigs toward their eyes. The far- ther hills were purple, deepening as the minutes drew awa\ So they

Hotel laSalle CHICAGOS FINEST HOTEL

< | . Excellent ~~ . - *s* . Convention Facilities Its unequalled accommodations for banquets, exhibitions and meetings its attractive and ce ntral lo« ation set La Salle apart as ( hic age »’s ¢ vention hotel Room ratesand restaurant prices , ' , 3 are fixed heavy demand does not ¢ hange them The Grand Ball Room and the

Red Re 1 pertect ac tics and daylight four sides roadcastil i d tems, ar adequ sseml a re stra t s ice re aes I I quets, mee ‘ « 1s In every de] tik Salle ves e fe ' ¢ you pay than any other hotel ( hicago Xotel laSalle La Salle at Ma n Stree i I . f PR I ¥ { j 11K ‘ x , x x .

a ~\ ¥ . . ~\ “\ | eh y . . mt on i i ea is is is /pi}

we

Page 128

EASIER STEERING * sha oss \ ——e \ Handles Your Car Like an Invisible Giant Gives Help You Need on Quick, Hard Turns Steering is made twice as easy and much safer by the Ross Cam and Lever Steering Gear. Your ability to handle your car is nearly doubled because of the Ross cam-and-lever principle. On straightaways your car holds its course almost unaided—you park with halt the effort—and make turns with ease. Ross likewise holds your car steady and true in sand, gravel and ruts—and protects against the discomforts and dangers of road-shocks. Ross is already standard equip ment on more makes of cars, trucks and buses than any other gear. Drive a Ross-equipped car once, and you'll have no other. It’s All in the Cam and Lever You can do things easily with a lever that you can't do at all without it. Everyone knows this. The long lever in the Ross Cam and Lever Steering Gear 1s the source of the tremendous power that makes Ross steering so easy. And the cam with its variable pitch constitutes the almost impassable barrier to road shock that makes Ross Steering so safe and so comfortable! Mail the coupon below for rrer booklet “Efficiency in Steering’ t Ross-equipped cars Ross Gear & Tool Co., Lafayette, Ind. ROSS CAM and LEVER ‘§ STEERING GEARS ———— EASIER STEERING LESS ROAD SHOCK ——— Ross Gear AND Toot Company, Lafayette, Indiana Please send me your rree booklet. “Efficiency in Steering” which explains fully the R 126 THE SATURDAY LESS ROAD SHOCK + EVENING POST the end of the day, to a covert covering many acres, on a lofty hilltop where an old farm once had stood. There were many apple trees, some in the open, some half smothered in the creeping growth of poplar and young birch, and from the open land the eye could sweep for miles. To reach the spot they had driven deep into the wood, and then climbed afoot the steep and ar- | duous hillside; and Uncle Joe was heavy- footed with fatigue and had to rest awhile. ““ Maybe we'd best not gun any more to- day,”’ Chet suggested. But the old man | shook his head. “*T like to save this for the last,’’ he said. “It’s the best cover I know; rather gun it than any of them. I like to look off at the hills, and the birds are here, Chet —the birds are here.”’ So, when he was rested, they worked Don through a clump of poplar saplings and stirred a partridge out and heard him wing far down into the run, through the thick growth. Chet, listening, said: “He lit in a tree!” “Heard him,”’ Uncle Joe agreed. “I’m going after him,’’ Chet suggested. “T’ve shot many a partridge that lit in a tree, creeping up on them, listening for them to whit-whit at me.” “Go on,”’ the old man assented. “I'll work Don up toward the wall.” And so they parted there. Chet turned downhill into the black growth, and for a hundred yards or so he went swiftly, and it was very still. There was no air stirring. Above his head the top- most twigs were laced against the sky, mo- tionless as though they were wild things affrighted by his presence there. Heslowed his steps and began to listen, advancing by short stages, listening long between. His eyes scanned, bough by bough, the trees before him, seeking the hidden bird. He knew it must be near; knew what to look for. A high, lean shape with head thrust upward like a stub, motionless as a stub might have been. And he looked and listened; listened for the low nervous call which would give warning before the bird should fly. He scanned the wood, noting where there were open aisles through which a shot might be had, and he lost some sense of the swift pass of time. He stopped at last, resolved to move no more. The partridge must be here, within gunshot now; would, if he waited, make its presence heard. “And it seemed to me,” said Chet, “I'd never known the woods to be so still. When a leaf come down it was like it thumped the ground, and I could hear a squirrel, or November 6, 1926 something, way down in the run, twenty, thirty rod away.” And then he heard the ten-gauge roar, once and then again; two shots, spaced not too close together, as though delibera tion pointed them; somewhere behind him, up atap the hill. Unconsciously he turned his head and he heard the partridge burr away behind his back; swung too late to catch even a glimpse of its departing form While he was still looking after it a sud den wind came sweeping across the trees above his head, stirring their boughs so that they swayed and lifted like the arms of cheering men, like a gesture of farewell to a departing friend. ‘A puff of wind from the south it was,” he said, ‘“‘and warmer. | could feel it, warm like spring. Only there was just this puff of it, and then the branches settling down again till they didn’t move at all. And it got still.”’ So he turned back to rejoin Uncle Joe, and by and by, when he was come to the top of the hill, he hallooed and had no reply. Moved on and hallooed again, and his heart began to pound as he advanced upon his way. “There was a little clump of birch,’’ he explained. and the sun struck through them kind of red on the white bark. There was an old apple tree in there, and a little wet hole, and there'd usually be woodcock there. I found him there.” He saw Don before } Don was at point, rigid as stone, and Chet approached him and he saw the dog’s eyes roll doubtfully to one side, and so discovered the old man where he lay. ‘*He was down kind of on his side,’’ Chet told me, “like he’d fell on his face and rolled a little over. His gun was there beside him, and his right hand was out, and after a minute I see there was a dead bird right there under his hand.” A moment later he perceived that Don was still on point, and so was led to the discovery of another dead bird, half a dozen steps away. **Solknew Uncle Joe had madea double,” he explained. “‘There was a kind of a smile on his face; the way there always was when he’d made a good shot.” Added: ‘‘He did like gunning better than anything.” And a moment later, clearing his throat, told me how he went down to lead the horse painfully up through the wood to the top of the hill. ‘“*Don stayed there while I was gone,”’ he ‘“*Good-size trees; I } e Saw ncie Joe explained, “‘and I guess the whole thing kind of satisf that war ed Uncle Joe He wanted it Devil's Head at Chimney Rock, North Carolina

Page 129

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST & rr not mere luck that 175 broadcasting stations have chosen Willard Batteries for voice amplification. This is one of the most ex- acting jobs a radio battery ever is called upon to do. And it’s the same job batteries do in your radio set. You, too, can trust Willards for better results—and because you can recharge them your set is always ready for the pro- gram you want—when you want it. Harmless solu tion, ep, : 22 Full regulation for ampliher voltages Solution level an always visible No tubes to N T replace. setsusingpowe ubes ry “p» Y..? The Willard “B” Power Unit Takes the hum out of the lighting current in your home and turns it into steady “B” power which you can adjust to the exact voltages recom mended by the maker of your set. Gives ample power for one or ten-tube sets, and this includes the sets using power tubes in audio stages. Eco- nomical, too. Ask to see the W illard “*A”’ Power Unit, too Tor sale by the Willard Battery men and authorized vadio dealers ¥

Page 130

Fox= Chicken “st: and 1A B ate H: FOX, popular waiter in the Brevoort I lotel, Chicago, is one ot the famous old-timers in one of Chicago’sfamousold-timerestaurants. Here is a bit of interesting conversa- tion between Fox and a customer (a stranger to Fox) just as it actually | : happened. % : * £ & & “That breast of chicken sounds all right, waiter; now let’s see, What will I have with it?” “If | may, sir, ] would suggest that you try it with Sauerkraut.” “Never heard of that combination before Do you serve chicken that way?” “Yes, indeed, sir. It’s quite a favorite with any Of my customers ‘All right, let’s have it! By the way, do you r\ such Sauerkraut here?” “T'll say we do. In fact, we serve more Sauer- kraut and Sauerkraut combinations in this hotel than any other dish.” 7” ‘That’s interesting. Why all this popularity? “This is my own cpinion, but people order it the first time because they've been told it’s good for them. After that they order it be- ause they like it—and it’s so healthy. If you like, sir, I'd be glad to give you one of our poy ular recipe “Tag 7 Here is Fox's Recipe. Try it! ake three nds of round steak, cut one inch thick. prink t pper « rw, cover with thin slices hace " t h kraut on this as possible and } lup or tasten with skewers Put in double roasting an witl f arer and bake one hour in a mod te ove then thicken the liquid with flour. Serve on hot platter garnished with parsley and lemon slices. Y # * ] } ? We have prepared a little book entitled ‘Sauerkraut as a Health Food”, which tells all about this wonderful food and quotes many eminent authorities on its health-giving qualities. In addition it gives 49 tested recipes for serving Sauerkraut. It’s free. Send today. ; (se this coupon 5 5 Cents Worth of Sauerkraut Will Serve 4 to 6 Persons THE NATIONAL KRAUT PACKERS’ TION Clyde. O} GC Send for this j\EM er Eat, Interesting Booklet FREE SHASRSRGHOUOSESS ENDO GHEE SOROOSESEDOBESESOESESEE SOBs : The National Kraut Packers’ Association : * Clyde, Ohio 1 Health I ' him. ‘Hello, Art. Got the car outside, if you want a lift anywhere.” Gregg managed to contain his expostu- lations until the runabout was in its smoothly purring progress. Then, affected against his will by Morton’s calm impeni- tence, he approached the matter obliquely. ““What’s the use of sending flowers to a girl, if she doesn’t know you did it?”’ he de- manded, avoiding for the moment any reference to the basic extravagance of send- ing flowers at all—especially when you were doing it with money you hadn’t any right to waste. Morton shook his head. “Mystery stuff goes across big,’’ he ex- plained. ‘Keep ’em wondering a while, and then let ’em find out. Try it yourself, if you don’t believe me.” He chuckled as if the suggestion amused him. For an instant Arthur Gregg con- templated it almost seriously; there was something insidiously, insanely fascinat- ing in the thought of sending mysteriously nameless orchids to Leila Drew. One of these days, when they’d cashed in on those options—-he made a pushing gesture, as if to thrust the thought out of his affronted brain. Morton stopped the car before Garfinkle’s. “‘Got to try on a suit,”” he said. “‘Come on in. Like to have you tell me how it fits around the collar.” Arthur Gregg opened his mouth and shut it again as the futility of protest became apparent. He had no personal experience with the ways of custom tailors, but he knew that when a suit was ready to be tried on it was too late to recant the error of its ordering. He followed Morton into the shop with a sense of treading unhallowed ground. He listened, gloomily aloof, to an exchange of pleasantries between M. Gar- finkle and his patron, and, under direct question, grudgingly admitted that the new coat fitted perfectly in the doubtful spot between shoulder blade and collar button. “It couldn’t wrinkle,”’ declared M. Gar- finkle. ‘‘Not even if it wasn’t cut special to your measure, Mr. Morton. We should have it a pettent on how our garments fit around the neck. It would fit your friend here as good as you, Mr. Morton.” The statement, under chaffing question on Morton’s part, became the subject of a wager. Scowling, Arthur Gregg suffered the serge jacket to be removed, slid his arms throveh the caressing new silk of sleeve linings, observed, in the opposed leaves of a triple mirror, an Arthur Gregg who had mysteriously become two differ- ent people. There was no visible kinship between the upper and nether sections of those mirrored semblances. J. Hobart Morton nonchalantly confessed defeat and paid his losings. Still hypnotized by the unfamiliar image, Arthur Gregg saw in the glass the passage of that five-dollar bill, the thickness of the roll which Morton returned to his pocket. He turned a deaf ear to M. Garfinkle’s blandishments, struggling back to the sanctuary of the old coat as one who toils to safety from a sucking quagmire. Re- treating to the doorway, he unwillingly admired the technical finesse with which M. Garfinkle closed the transaction. “Send it right up,”’ said Morton negli- gently. ‘“‘Might need it tonight.” “Sure,” said Garfinkle. “‘I tell you what, Mr. Morton, I don’t feel right I should win it money off a good customer. A bet is maybe a bet, but —look, Mr. Morton, you should pay me now a hunnert twenny, and this here five we would call it a kesh dis- count, hunh?” Behind the beaming benevolence of his countenance, it was apparent to Arthur Gregg that there would be no delivery of the suit unless his proposal was accepted. Gregg’s lips tightened; that was what it got you to waste money putting up a front. J. Hobart Morton might look like a million, but there were two men right here on whom that appearance made small impression. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SALVAGE Continued from Page 27) He watched the transfer of more bills from the fat roll, conquering a persistent feeling that it was his money that was wasted. Morton had given him better than fair value for every dollar he was now engaged in throwing away. It was evident, to be sure, that he had overstated the extent and perhaps the urgency of his need, but Arthur Gregg had no right to complain on this score, Nevertheless, the wanton prodigality of spending a hundred and twenty-five dol- lars for a suit so displeased him that he re- fused Morton’s good-natured offer to drive him on to the office. It was after six when he had finished his desk work and he rode uptown instead of walking. The dreary dinner table at Mrs. Toomey’s seemed, after his luncheon at the Seneca, a little drearier than usual. He discovered a per- sistent distaste for the stuffy little bedroom on the third floor and yielded, after a brief struggle with his conscience, to the restless- ness that urged him out into the amiable coolness of the street. Daylight saving had advanced the clocks in triumphant proof of Binchester’s urban- ity; it was still light when his wandering, carefully aimless, led him past the wide lawns of Walter Drew’s half-timbered house on the Parkway. As usual, his heart endeavored to climb up into his throat at the sight of Leila on the terrace; he swal- lowed it back into place by main force as he obeyed the cheerful summons of her lifted arm. Their kindergarten acquaintance had been kept alive by a succession of just such accidental encounters—the meetings still more or less inevitable even in Bigger Binchester, justly celebrated as the fastest- growing city between Buffalo and Bing- hamton. In each of them, however, Arthur Gregg detected, as in this, the naked hand of guiding destiny. He felt its pressure on his shoulders as he crossed the lawn, and in reply to Leila’s inquiry as to the state of things in general, he spoke with almost reverent fervor. “Fine,” he said. “Just fi His voice forsook him, and his eyes hung helplessly upon the splash of deeper color against Leila’s dress. One orchid, perhaps, might narrowly resemble every other, but there was in Arthur’s Gregg’s mind no shade of doubt as te when and where he had last seen these that Leila wore. A fierce heat of anger burned up in him toward J. Hobart Morton. Daring to use stratagem and guile against Leila! Schem- ing to keep her wondering, to Her glance, following his, lowered to the flow- ers, lifted again. Its want of any specu- lative quality comforted him; he might have known that Leila couldn’t be in- fluenced by any such cheap device. ““You—you like orchids?”’ he asked. ““Oh, I wear ’em when I get ’em,”’ said Leila. ‘Pretty, aren’t they, sort of?” She spoke so indifferently that Gregg’s indignation melted to a pitying contempt for Hobart Morton. He shook hands with the formidable Walter Drew, and, under inquiry, repeated, with more conviction than before, his declaration that everything was fine. Drew's eye contemplated him deliberately. Vaguely, Arthur Gregg was aware of certain quickening of interest in that scrutiny. There was, he felt, athought- fulness behind it that had heretofore been wanting in the casual glance with which Walter Drew had favored him. “Thought business must be picking up for you,”’ said Drew. ‘‘Saw you eating at the Seneca this noon, didn’t I?” To Arthur Gregg’s ear there was an implication of reproach in the question; Walter Drew’s public utterance in print and from platform was uncompromisingly stern with the rising generation’s disregard of frugality and thrift. “Oh, I went there with Hobart Morton,” said Gregg hastily. ‘‘I usually eat off a chair arm at the Maryland, myself.”’ November 6, 1926 He guessed that the contraction at Drew’s eyes was due to the mention of Morton; Walter Drew would see throug! that counterfeit semblance of prosperity. ‘Mean to say he paid for both of you?” Drew seemed surprised. His eye held a shrewdly speculative quality. “Trying to make a quick touch, was he?” “From me?” Arthur Gregg laughed and was pleased to see that the absurdity of the idea was also apparent, on second thought, to Drew. The older man chuckled. **Didn’t know but he might try it. Guess this new-station business must have hit him pret#y hard. Been taking one of his shoe-string flyers in canal-basin property, hasn’t he?” “‘He—he did say something about it, seems to me.”” Arthur Gregg’s forefinger loosened the microscopic saw teeth along the edge of his collar. Drew laughed again. “Should think he might. Must have felt nice and happy when he found out that they’re going to put the new station out at South End. All over town this morning.” “Tt’s—it’s decided, is it?” tened his lips. ““Been decided for three—four weeks, I guess. Long enough, anyhow, for the in- side crowd to get half the South End under option. Control about everything out there except old George Watson’s holdings, by what I hear. He was too many for ’em, as usual.” He moved away to inspect his rosebushes. Arthur Gregg managed, somehow, to pre- serve a deceptive calm as, much more com- petently than usual, he accomplished the task of saying good-by to Leila. Her cas- ually amiable wave reassured him, when h¢ turned at the sidewalk, against a dim fear that she might have guessed. He broke into a stumbling run when he had passed the corner, his feet carrying him blindly toward the pleasantly expen- sive bachelor-apartment building where J. Hobart Morton lived. He had no clear intention; his mind clung stupidly to the memory of trivial shifts and_ sacrifices in the history of his stolen savings—the time he had walked all the way in from the car shops to put an extra nickel in the bank; the two boards under his mattress that pressed his trousers without subsidy to any hireling sadiron; that day, just after graduation, when he had stayed home from the class picnic at Willow Springs in spite of Leila Drew’s own invitation —surely one of those five thousand stolen dollars must still be acid with the bitterness of that afternoon! Hardly another of them but must bear its private mark of the dogged self-denial that had bought it. He could not visualize them as a mere sum and figure; they were separate sym- bols of days and hours, of petty humilia- tions, little forgone hungers. Passing i! swift, blurred review before his mental eye as he ran, they seemed to charge him sadly with a kind of treason. He had no coherent train of thought; it was no more than blind instinct that drove him forward on what he knew, for all the turmoil of his mind, must be the errand of a fool. He recognized Morton's car before the apartment building, and his hands tight- ened at the evidence that Morton must be in his rooms. The negro hall boy knew him as a privileged visitor and offered no ob- jection to his passage. Morton hadn't even locked his door. Arthur Gregg shut it after him with his shoulder and, as he stood with his back against it, breathing hard, one hand mechanically twisted and with- drew the key. Hobart Morton, in a soft silk shirt and the new Garfinkle trousers, came to the door of his bedroom. “Hello, Art. What’s up?” He spoke with his normal jaunty uncon- cern, but his eye flickered uneasily away from the accusing glare that Gregg turned upon him. He abandoned the attempt to dissemble, grinning as he spread his hands Gregg mois- Continued on Page 131

Page 131

XPERIENCED football coaches difter widely in their theories and methods; but on this one point, at least, they are unani mous. There must be relaxation to offset the strain and pressure of the game. Experienced motorists; whatever their individual preferences for this or that car feature, are of one mind on the importance of easy riding. They know how exhausting it is to motor under tension. They know how retreshing it can be to ride relaxed in easy comfort. They know the value of these refreshing intervals between the crowding activities of modern life The more experienced the motorist, the more certain you are to find him in a Stabilated car. He appreciates the serene confidence that Stabilators give him. He knows there can be no sudden, vio lent thrust of spring recoil. His confidence ends the exhausting tension of anticipation. He rides relaxed and arrives refreshed JOHN WARREN WATSON COMPANY T'WENTY-FOURTH AND LOCUST STS., PHILADELPHIA Relaxation is possible only when you know that no force can throw you The only way to prever ny force trom throwing you ts to resist eac/ force in keeping with its R And right there you have the Sta bilator principle. This Sta principle is patented—and Wats Stabilators enjoy complete, sole and exclusive license under these pate WATSON STABILATORS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “TOOTBALL,” says Hurry-up Yost, Mich _igan’s tamous coach, “is largely a matter of pressure, give and take It is a game of pressure upon both the men- tal and the physical systems. Action is fast, quick thought is necessary, and contact is violent. The smart player relaxes at every chance. One of Yale's most famous, hard- playing captains used almost every moment when time was called to rest and relax at full length on the ground. I teach n men to keep relaxed physically at every Opportunity,” says Knute Rockne of Notre Dame Those unable to relax are soon worn down. Nerve tension drags them into slow-tooted weariness. Inability to reiax largely accounts for the dizzy upsets that feature each tall campaign

Page 132

The laboratories and shops of industry are the sources of many of the enduring attain ments of our times. In the General Electric organization is an army of 75,000 persons, co-operating to make electric ity do more and better work for you. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 Man-power Four millions of the best man-power of Europe perished in the Napoleonic conquests. Military conquest is non-creative, while industry is always creative. In the last ten years one American manufacturer —the General Electric Company—has created ma- chines having a man-power forty times as great as that of all the lives lost in the Napoleonic wars. GENERAL ELECTRIC i\

Page 133

(Continued from Page 128 you’ve heard the bad Tough, all right, but that’s how it goes.”’ “You knew it when you sold me that extra share,”’ said Arthur Gregg. ‘You had a good guess at it when you got the first three thousand out of me, but ‘this noon you weren’t guessing you knew!” “I was afraid you'd be a rotten lose Tr, said Morton, more in sorrow than in wrath. ‘I expected you to yelp, but “You knew,” said Gregg again. just stole that money from me.” Morton’s features had begun to arrange themselves in the aspect of injured pa- tience, when, asif suddenly weary of the pre- tense, he threw back his head and laughed It was confession, contempt, defiance, all at once, ‘Prove it,”’ he said. ‘“‘Squeal, you piker, and see what it gets you.” “T’m not going to squeal,” said Gregg slowly. His breath was coming back, and he spoke almost mildly. “I just want my money back, that’s all.” Again Morton laughed. “All right. get it. I’m not stopping you.” He was still chuckling when Gregg’s head, lowered in his diving plunge across the room, collided with his chin. The crash of that impact served to offset some measure of his advantage in weight and strength and skill. The surprise attack, the triplicate armament of a just cause, accounted for the rest. Morton staggered backward and sprawled across the foot- board of his bed, his arms wasting, in a wild effort to regain his balance, the split second that Arthur Gregg required to fasten furi- ously upon his throat. He tore uselessly at that suffocating clutch; he battered at the face that pressed against his chest; he managed, with a mighty effort, to roll over, but not even the jarring force with which they struck the floor so much as loosened the grip of Arthur Gregg’s crazed fingers. Presently, when Hobart Morton was able to spare thought for something less important than the renewal of relations with the outer air, a towel had been knotted crudely between his jaws, another lashed each of his ankles to a leg of the big chair before his desk, and his left wrist was bound with a necktie to the chair arm. Arthur Gregg was talking. “Sit up and write, I tell you, before I start on you in earnest.’’ Morton felt an admonitory pressure of the arm that crooked about his neck. He made eager, wordless sounds of surrender and consent, and his right hand, groping on the desk, found and clutched a fountain pen. Arthur Gregg, leaning over his shoulder, dictated deliberately: “T see news. “You Go ‘**T hereby voluntarily confess that I obtained from Arthur Gregg the sum of five thousand dollars by fraud. I acknowledge this of my own free will and declare that the said Arthur Gregg, in accepting as partial restitution the sum of $1658.77 in cash, together with certain personal property described in the bill of sale I have this day signed in his favor, does so at my request and without prejudice to any civil or criminal proceedings he may subsequently bring against me “Sign it,” said Arthur Gregg. His elbow tightened a little. J. Hobart Morton signed. Under the same persuasion he proceeded to write out a formal bill of sale, transferring to Arthur Gregg his right and title in a certain Mixler runabout, its serial numbers duly copied from the license in his pocketbook; he drew up and signed a promissory note for two thousand dollars. Allowed to breathe now, without the en- cumbering elbow, he executed a second bill of sale, setting down the items as Arthur Gregg, packing them compactly in a THE SATURDAY pig-skin kit bag that headed the list, called them from the bedroom: one dinner jacket; one blue, **One full-dress suit business suit, dark-gray; one breasted ; double **Told me to go ahead and get my money back, didn’t you?”" Arthur Gregg paused in response to expostulatory gurgles from behind the gag. ‘‘ Doing the best I can, that’s all.” There were intelligible. J. ing attention to the totality of the Arthur Gregg chuckled grimly. “Don’t you worry about that, Morton. I'll leave you something to wear, all right.” He carried the crammed kit bag out to the car, tying Morton’s right hand to the chair arm and locking the door of his rooms against the chance of a stray visitor during his absence. The hall boy paid no heed as he passed him. Returning, he untied the lashings that bound Hobart Morton’s knees and ankles, and, deaf to plaintive, protesting gurgles, achieved the removal of the new Garfinkle trousers. “‘Saw you pay for ‘em with my money,” he said. “Fit me first-rate too. Lucky we're built so much alike-—wouldn’t won- der if this old suit of mine would fit you better than me. You're welcome to it anyhow.” J. Hobart Morton stared helplessly at the unfamiliar figure that presently re- placed the bonds at his knee and foot. “‘Leave you one hand loose,”’ explained Arthur Gregg. ‘“‘Guess by the time you get these knots untied you'll see the sense of taking your medicine. Might make some trouble for me, maybe, but it’s just your word against mine, and I’ve got written evidence to back me up too. Go ahead and squeal, though, if you think it’s worth while.” He freed Morton’s left hand and went out. There was a tall mirror in the lobby. Passing it, he squared his shoulders and threw out his chest more gurgles, eventually Hobart Morton was draw- lev y. iu ALL,” said George Watson. The re- mark, however, wanted its usual qual- ity of dismissal. Arthur Gregg, still dimly incredulous as to the reality of the inter- view, rose without haste; somewhere in the back office of his mind a purely clerical staff calculated the profits, gross and net, on the formidable list of policies to be handled hereafter through his agency. Through a grimy window his eye dwelt possessively on a runabout parked beside the curb; he endeavored to oppose the heretic belief that there was some connec- tion between that car and the conquest of George Watson's confidence. Watson was too smart to be influenced, except adversely, by such considerations. It was just silly to imagine that he’d switch all his insurance business merely because Arthur Gregg had encountered him afoot among his holdings at South End and given him a free ride back to lower Main Street in the motor that had been Hobart Morton’s. Even now, with the transaction safely closed, Gregg was minded to explain and excuse his temporary pos- session of the car, to tell Watson that he’d had to take it over as salvage of an other- wise bad debt and was only driving it until he found a good chance to sell, because there wasn’t any sense in letting it stand idle, running up storage bills while its owner walked or paid car fare. But Wat- son spoke before he found the right ap- proach to the topic. “Glad to see y’ gett’n’ ahead,” he clared. ‘‘’Swhat I like—see a young man s’ceed. Been wait’n’ to see how you turned de- EVENING POST too keep.” Might’ had me fooled, thought you could’n’ be earn'n’ y’ Arthur Gregg felt his eyes widening; his respect for George Watson's discernment underwent an abrupt downward revision, and he had a dim sense of injustice. He resented this counterfeit Gregg, reaping, on wholly for which the real Gregg had slaved and scrimped and struggled. Yet lowered to the Garfinkle raiment, as, rising, it dwelt again upon the carat the curb below the window, he entered a defense. This ré splendent Arthur Gregg wasn’t counter He stood in his own clothes, certainly; that car out yonder was his both by purchase and by the forcible replevin of his naked hands. For the first time, as he starter, he had no uneasy sense of guilty masquerade. At his office, dealing me- chanically with the desk work incident to the Watson windfall, he came to entertain a dull anger toward that other Arthur Gregg, going about with his shiny out, near superficial grounds, the rewards , as his glance right of pressed the even hand-me-downs, giving people like George i Watson the idea that he couldn't earn his keep. If he had fooled Watson he'd prob- ably deceived a lot of others, whose opinion might be just as important. Later, leaning forward in the wicker chair that stood in the late twilight of the terrace, he found occasion to amend the phrase. There were others whose opinions were distinctly more important than even those of George Watson. Walter Drew, for instance, treated the Arthur Gregg who drove a car and wore a snappy dinner jacket distinctly otherwise from the caller who had polisHed half-soled shoes against blue-serge trouser legs. It was impossible to deny even a certain change in Leila’s friendliness. ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,”’ she said. “‘Do you remember one night when I was wearing orchids and you asked me if I liked them?’ “Remember? I'll say I do!” Arthur Gregg scowled in the semi- darkness, and the rankle of his revived grievance gave his voice an injured bitter- He had salvaged a good deal, to be from the shipwreck of his dealings Hobart Morton, but, except for the remote chance of something against that promissory note, it would always leave a balance to be ignobly written off. Cars and clothes and money might be seized by the strong hand, but there could never be a levy the orchids of yesterday. Again he seemed tosee the passage of that yellow bill —his twenty dollars, thrown away, past all recovery ‘I’m terribly sorry,” Leila saying. “I never dreamed who'd sending them. I-—-I was afraid it must bé that awful Hobart Morton. I always sup- posed you were just frightfully hard up, Arthur. Even when they stopped coming after what I said that night, right away that it was you.” Dazedly, Arthur Gregg mentally in- dorsed an unspecific succession of twenty- the back of a promissory note. Leila prompted him with forthright question. ‘It was you, wasn't it ‘*Rather have ‘em come from me, Leila She laughed softly. Arthur Gregg drew in a long, slow breath. And he'd thought of trifles like a car and clothes as worthy salvage! He himself denly in the at Unger’s Flower Shoppe, neg dismissing the dapper clerk’s suggestion about a card “All right, then,”” he said. They sort of.”’ too ness. sure, with J. collecting against just was been I didn’t guess dollar credits on certain seemed to set sud eqn mirrors ligen tly did, others | ‘California hours nearer extra fast extra fine extra fare New Santake train de-Luxe, between Chicago and» California os) mines days on the way It costs more to ride The Chief because it is finer and faster—distinctively supe- rior—like an exclusive hotel x club, on ribbons of steel, speeding through a scenic wonderland, in luxury, ease and supreme comfort. The Lounge car and Din- ing car have many exclusive Santa Fe features and man- aged by Fred Harvey,which means the best in the world of travel. There are observation sun- parlor, ladies lounge, ladies maid, barber and valet serv- ice, also bath. Extra fare, $10 from Chi- cago; $8 from Kansas City —same returning. The Sante Fe also oper- ates four other through trains to California every day on which no extra fare is charged. Remember—Grand Can- yon National Park —and the Indian-detour. — just mail coupon at top of this column

Page 134

“Will you?” asked the nurse. Shelooked at him deeply, and her voice came softly from the back of her throat, so that it was unnecessary for her to add, ‘‘ For me.” Wally swallowed several times and then cleared his throat. “i'll do what I can, lady,”’ said he. “That's all I ask,” replied the nurse. She stretched out her hand for his, and Wally, removing his glove, gave it a firm clasp. Then she jumped down from the step and they could hear her hobnails spat- tering away through the mud. “Who the hell do you think you're kickin’?"’ demanded Wally. He did not say it briskly, however, as a man does when he means business, but in a sullen, hangdog sort of way, and he kept his eyes fixed on the road. The ambulance moved away, lurching over the worn surface of the road. Wally replaced his glove. ‘“‘ Yuh wanta be careful where yuh throw them canal boats o’ yours,”’ he growled. “I don’t need no guy to go kickin’ me in the shins. I won’t stand for it. Anyone that kicks me in the shins is gonna get knocked ciockwise.”’ Rooge made no reply, but began to sing, very loudly and off tune: ‘Around her neck she wore a yaller ribbon; She wore it for her sweetie what was in the cavalry. Oh, he used to ride a horse, and his horse it used lo prance; But she’s got a better sweetie now that rides an ambulance.” “Aw, what could a man do?” cried Wally. ‘‘Wasn’t she lookin’ at me, an’ didn’t she have a hold o’ my arm?” ‘“*A man can put that there thing in gear an’ step on the gas,’’ said Rooge crisply. “Well, she’s a nice American girl,’’ re- plied Wally, ‘“‘an’ when a nice American girl asks a fellar would he do her a little favor, it ain’t only some guy with a soul like a skunk that would say no.” “Now that’s what a man gets for tryin’ to do a favor for a ignorant friend,’’ said Rooge. ‘‘A big argument an’ a lot of per- sonalities. All right, kid, you drive. I’m gonna sleep. If you crave the landscape o’ Northern France so you want to see forty kilometers of it that you already seen forty times, up an’ back, go to it.” “If you'll sleep all through it,’’ replied Wally, ‘it'll be worth the trouble o’ drivin. There’s one good thing about you—you don’t talk in your sleep. When you're poundin’ your ear a man’s got a chance to think one thought after the other for a while, 'thout you bellerin’ in his ear.” “Shut up, Wally,” said Rooge, closing his eyes. ‘‘You'll have ’em soundin’ the gas alarm around here if you keep on talkin’. I ain’t listenin’ anyway.” The traffic became gradually thicker and Wally’s entire attention was taken up in dodging trucks, rolling kitchens and other ambulances, French and American, that kept cutting in from the side roads. Malancourt, Haucourt, Esnes, Fromere- ville, Nixeville, Souilly. The ambulance was unloaded there in a welter of trucks, ambulances, freight cars, portable houses, both up and down, stretchers, walking wounded, and dead awaiting burial. Rooge was awakened, and crying out at the pain of his stiffened legs and arms, got down into the mud and assisted with the unloading. The ambulance went away then to a place where gas, oil and water could be replen- ished. Wally then curved out of town, crossed the Bar-le-Duc highway, and took the country road that led northbound traffic through Osches, Rampont, and Bler- court to Dombasle-en-Argonne. A man can turn to the right here, and going north through Montzeville, return to the front, or by keeping straight on he could arrive at Four de Paris by way of Neuvilly. Wally, however, swung to the right, and Rooge, who had been feigning sleep, opened his eyes with a start to behold the forest-clad heights above Bethelaineville. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE GENERAL’S AIDE (Continued from Page 13) “Hey, Wally,” he cried. ‘This ain’t the road! We don’t go this way! Yuh keep on that main road! Ain’t you ever drove to Foor de Paree before?”’ Wally made no reply, but sang loudly: “Oh, she sent for her lover, for her lover sent she, For he was as fine a soldier as a man did ever see. He jumped into his ambulance an’ made it turn around, An’ he says, ‘I’ll come a runnin’ if my bus’ll hold the ground.’”’ “You ain’t really goin’ back after that shavetail, are yuh?” asked Rooge anxiously. “No kiddin’, Wally! Man, I never thought you really meant it or I woulda raised up hell. Man, they’ll climb up one side o’ you an’ down the other. Eighty kilometers o’ gas, oil, an’ rubber off the tires, to say nothin’ o’ wear an’ tear on my nerves watchin’ you run under tail gates an’ scrape the paint off tanks, an’ all for one shavey. You go smokin’ into Sewey an’ see what they say to yuh for comin’ in with only one passenger! They’ll take your spendin’ money away from yuh for a while. I ain’t kiddin’. C’m on! Use your brains. They don’t git hardly enough use to keep the dust off ’em, but try to reason somethin’ out for once! Gwan, turn off at the next left- hand road. You ain’t the only one knows this country: Turn off. It’ll take you to Avocourt an’ then we can go over through Varennes that way, if the road ain’t one- way traffic.” Wally paid no attention, but as they reached the top of the hill began to sing again: “Oh, she says to the villain, ‘ You had better hop your flivver, ‘Cause my man is on the road an’ he'll ex- cavate your liver.” ‘Ho-ho,’ laffed the villain. afraid of he, Though he is the bravest soldier ever drove a G. M. C.’” “Listen to what I’m sayin’!’’ yelled Rooge. “Lay off that warblin’. If you knew how much you sounded like an Al- gerian with a skinful of white mule, you wouldn’t holler so! You're on the wrong road! If I shove a few words into your ear with a bunch o’ knuckles I guess you'll pay attention.” “Don't make no fight talk to me,”’ said Wally severely. ‘‘Time hangs heavy on my hands right now an’ I might stop this here an’ turn you up on end an’ slam you so deep into the ground you'd look like a mile- post.” “Time hangs heavy on your hands!” shrieked Rooge. “Well, it don’t hang heavy on mine! Yuh know what time it’ll be when we get back up there in them cold woods? It'll be chow time, an’ us miles from a smell o’ bacon fryin’ an’ coffee boilin’. And d’yuh know there’s wounded waitin’ at Foor de Paree to be took out, en- listed men, too, that’s got some value to "em.”’ “There’s a lot o’ ambulances waitin’ there too,” said Wally, increasing speed d-wnhill into Montzeville. “They got a old church over there for a dressin’ station. The drivers like that route. It ain’t so lively as it is up round Montfaucon.” “There's a sergeant there,’”’ observed Rooge darkly, ‘“‘an’ he checks up on am- bulances comin’ an’ goin’, to see who’s drivin’ an’ who’s gold-brickin’.” “Let him check!” answered Wally. “That’s what he’s gettin’ paid for.” Rooge thereupon hurled himself against the back of the ambulance and sat looking out across the brown fields to distant roads, some with their sides lined with artillery emplacements, square and black, like the ports of wooden men-of-war. ‘On other roads crawled columns of trucks miles long, that looked like snakes, and columns of ar- tillery, equally long, with the horses’ legs ‘Oh, I ain't wiggling like a centipede’s. The ambulance went uphill and down continually, like a ship riding over the waves. Traffic was fairly light going this way and the Germans were not shelling th» rear areas, having enough to do for th present with their front lines. “T’ll bet yuh when we get up there he’s kicked off,’’ said Rooge finally. “T don’t want your money,” replied the driver. ‘‘Children an’ fools is safe from me, but if he’s alive will you promise not to open your gas projector for twenty-four hours?” Rooge made no reply, but grunted scorn- fully. “No, yuh won't,” said Wally. ‘“ Money you don’t care about, bein’ as with blinds an’ payin’ for lost property you won’t have none comin’ to yuh in your lifetime, but yuh got to pop off all the time. If yuh didn’t it would kill yuh. Maybe it’s lucky at that. If you didn’t give all that hot air exit it might back up in yuh an’ then blow you an’ me an’ the ambulance all to hell.” “Gwan an’ sing,’ said Rooge. “I'd rather you thought you could sing than that you thought you could argufy.” “So! Well, I know I can’t sing an’ I know I’m kind of a fool, but there’s them that don’t realize either. You was the one started to sing anyway, kiddin’ me about that nurse.” “T ain’t done yet either,’”’ remarked Rooge. In silence they arrived at the path that led into the field hospital. Here Rooge blew violently upon his whistle, and called at the top of his lungs “Bring out your wounded!” There were faint exclamations of pleas- ure, then appeared the two lean-faced stretcher bearers that had helped load the ambulance before. ‘We about give yuh up,” said the first bearer. “The wards an’ personnel is all gone, ’cept us. Well, business is about done here.” “Shove him in,” said Rooge, opening the gate. ‘Here’s your blanket for him.” He gave a half glance at the figure on the stretcher, then spun about energetically. “Hey, what’s this! This guy ain’t the shavetail! Where’s that patent-leather officer we come back after? Shot through the arm or chest he was. This bird’s got a leg wound!” “That’s all right,” replied the bearer. “He’s here. This fellar’s one that some- body brought in. They git a bad case once in a while an’ some dizzy officer rushes him to the hospital in a side car or a limousine or somethin’. They didn’t know we was closed up.” “How many of ’em yuh got?’’ demanded Rooge, with awful suspicion. “Oh, just a couple. Him an’ another an’ the lootenant.” “Well, put him in,’”’ said Rooge, ‘‘an’ I’ll go up an’ bring down the rest. Anyone there to give me a hand?” “Yeh, there’s another fellar up there.” Rooge went down the path to where the tents of the field hospital had once stood, but all was changed. Nothing remained but the trampled grass, a scattered ribbon of white bandage here and there, the nurse, and aman burying rubbish. “‘Give us a hand on a stretcher,” called Rooge. “Sure thing,’”’ answered the man. He came over, and the nurse smiled upon both. “TI knew you’d come back,” she said cheerily. ‘‘We'’ve gathered a few more for you too. Just a full load—three and the lieutenant. Look, take out this one and send back the bearers for the other. I’m going to give the lieutenant a little mor- phine, but by the time you’ve loaded the other two he’ll be ready.” They lifted the first man and bore him out to the road. It took a long time, be- cause he had had a foot amputated by a one-pounder shell and any jolt might November 6, 1926 disturb the tourniquets on his leg and start him bleeding again. The other two bearers went back for the third man and Rooge and his companion, after seeing the first three safely loaded, went in for the lieu- tenant. “Here they are,” exclaimed the nurse, getting up from her knees beside a stretcher. “Ready, now?” asked Rooge, taking hold of the upper end of the stretcher. ““Ready,”” answered the other “Easy now.” Ugh! They lifted him up and started shuffling their way down the muddy path, the nurse walking alongside, steadying the stretcher and rearranging the blanket that covered the lieutenant. “Yuh ain’t got any chow lyin’ around loose, have yuh?” inquired Rooge. “It’s about one o’clock an’ me an’ the driver ain’t bit since 5:30 this mornin’.”’ “I’m sorry,” said the nurse. “‘We just used up our last cake of chocolate to make some hot drink for these ——”’ “Hey, nurse!’’ called several voices. At this moment the stretcher party emerged from the woods. Several men were grouped at the rear of the ambulance. “There she is now,” said one of these men. Rooge looked with a contraction of the heart. Wally was there, gauntleted hands on leather-jerkined hips, the two stretcher bearers, lighting cigarettes, and four other men clad in dungarees, who had between them what looked to be a blanket full of dirt. This group was clustered so about the back of the ambulance that the stretcher party could not get through, and so were forced to come up 2 protesting halt. “Gwan!” cried Rooge. ‘“‘Gangway! Hot stuff comin’ through!” “Break away from the back o’ that am- bulance, can’t yuh?’’ demanded the other bearer. “We got a wounded man here,” said one of the group that carried the blanket. All looked, the nurse hurrying forward with an exclamation of pity. There was a man in the bianket, in dungarees, like his com- panions, and the blood that should have been in his face had leaked out here and there through holes in his body, to be ab- sorbed by his overalls and the bianket. He was apparently without life; but the nurse, taking his limp, muddy hand, announced that there was a pulse there. “Where did you get him?”’ she asked. “We're fixin’ the road over by Avo- court,” said one of the overalled men. “ Pio- neer infantry. There was a boche come over droppin’ bombs. We all took to the woods, but Art here run right into one. The cap’n said there was a hospital over here, so we brung him in.” “He looks like he’s hit bad,’’ murmured someone. “He is,”’ said one of the men in overalls “‘He’s absorbed a whole one o’ them damn bombs. It makes him weigh heavy, too, with all that iron in him.” “Weil, drag out the least wounded guy an’ run him in,” said Wally. ‘Lucky yuh didn’t come up five minutes later, yuh’d never caught us. The hospital is closed an’ this is our last trip.” “Yeh, but which is the least wounded guy?” asked the stretcher bearer with Rooge. “That’s right,”’ agreed another bearer, walking over to the ambulance and climb- ing on the step. ‘‘ There’s that guy with the foot off, the other one’s plugged through a lung, and that fellar in the lower’s got a machine bullet through him endwise. It went in his neck and come out the back of his leg somewhere. H’m. Yuh see these here was all hit bad, else they would a stayed in the dressin’ stations an’ gone out in the regular ambulances.” “They were brought down especially,”’ said the nurse; “either in side cars or some other way. Their buddies wanted to rush them in just as fast as they could, and we (Continued on Page 137) man.

Page 135

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | Keep health in hee ae | playing on your side a hae er eae ee” : ’ ; : irritated gum tissues. O Safeguard the brimming vigor of youth ©_@ss* we ] - - ¥ IFE is such a wonderful game—if you keep your teeth along The Danger Linx ; health always on your side. V-shaped crevices where teeth a1 i, On health depends the youthful freshness, meet. As a result food particles collect r the vitality, the eagerness to do, which mark They ferment. Acids are formed. | i! those we call “popular” and “successful.” these acids are neutralized, they cause decay Li For you, this new knowledge of The Danger — or dangerous gum infections such as P\ Line may be the secret of health. Both medi- Since your tooth-brush cal and dental authorities tell us that thou- tect you fully, your dentifrice must by cor : ; sands are constantly losing stamina, alert- taining a trustworthy antacid. ness, “pep,” because of decayed teeth and a oe en hi infected gums! That many, too, are stricken oy a oe aeaaed oes a ii with serious disorders for the same reasons. It is = 2 Safeguard from cdangerous | uth e. ay Taft @ 2 \ 3 8 Think of it! Attacked by heart disease, #1ds that Squibb’s Denta ream was de- ~ G iy id ; es is fi kidney disorders, neuritis—and perhaps need- veloped. : It contains More than §0 per cent A, * +e eC. D> 7 ie lessly ! For so often proper care of the teeth ol Squibb s Milk of Mag ay Coe and gums would have avoided them. nized as a most effective means of neutt : NTT'A | q g RAA } F ve izing mouth acids. Every time you u A ALRSs QYERELLL i This 1s the danger Squibb’s Dental Cream, tiny partic! t Co; § over , ~ if No tooth-brush can reach into the pits on Squibb’s Milk of Magnesia lodge in the crev- Cossthhy } {;], iil the grinding surface of your teeth, or between ices on your teeth and at The Danger Lin yquibbs Milk « 7

Page 136

134 THE SATURDAY EVENING rae CH The man who has decided to buy a better overcoat this season is in luck! For a kindly circumstance has given him a glorious opportunity . . . The Houser OF KupPENHEIMER is celebrating its 50th anniversary, and is doing the job up brown, with the richest overcoat offerings in its history. .. There are differences of opinion Kuppenheimer POST resentation in the clothing business, as in all businesses. But in fifty years, no discerning clothing man has denied to Kuppenheimer its premiership in fine overcoat making . .. Kuppenheimer has made the overcoat the piéce de résistance in the well dressed man’s wardrobe. . . And this Fall, Kuppenheimer has outdone even itself! Cood Clothes November 6, 1926 en ee meen on

Page 137

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST mer ee uppenheimer There’s the new 1926 Lairp, in top-coat and winter models—a real weather-proof coat in which ruggedness is wedded to rare style distinc- tion... There’s the new double-breasted Brummel —acourtly, velvet-collared coat with an iron constitution. To say nothing of great coats, raglans and ulsters with a swank to An Investment in vercoats stir the style-loving Avenue and a warmth to re- buff the biting winds of the Northern Frontier! ... Your Kuppenheimer merchant is saving a place for you, at his Golden Jubilee feast of Good Overcoats. His selection of both suits and overcoats fittingly commemorates Kuppenheimer’s fifty years of leadership. Good A ppearance

Page 138

PURCHASE ORDER THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Breeding Errors These men are not trying to kill time. They are not paying office visits. They are breeding errors by trying to get work done under the handicap of incomplete information, delayed information, or instructions that they do not clearly understand. The answers to most of the questions that em- ployees dash around to seek can usually be ob- tained from information on printed forms. And when it is thus obtained it is usually correct, com- plete, and easily understood. Jot down your instructions; report your confer- ences in writing. Date everything. Build up a sys- tem whereby information travels on paper instead of by word of mouth. This reduces the chance of error and keeps men at their posts. It substitutes quiet efficiency for clamorous haste and lost motion. You could not get along with- out letterheads, order blanks, requisitions, invoices, shipping tags, etc. There are scores of Date HAMMERMILL PAPER mt MER WAG ono Me COMPANY, other printed forms that, once they are used, prove just as indispensable. When you select your paper for printed forms, consider these advantages of Hammermill Bond: It comes in twelve colors and white, thus making it possible for you to give your different forms color identity. Hammermill Bond is reasonably priced and its quality highly standardized. Its surface is right for pen, pencil, typewriter, carbon, and printing. It is stout enough to stand plenty of hard usage and, what is highly important, printers can supply Hammermill Bond promp?/y. All printers know it, and many carry it in stock. We should like to have you look for suggestions in our Working Kit of printed forms. We shall be glad to for- ce : Py ward it free of charge, together Wine with samples of Hammermill Lg Mate 5 Bond. ‘Write us on your busi- ness letterhead. Memo. tor so “ ERIE, PA. from Mr BD. Mecdonsig The Utility Business Paper Ask any stationer for National Loose Leaf Ledger Sheets and Business Forms made J, of Hammermill Ledger. Hammermill Ledger is made in the same mill as Hammer- mill Bond and with the same high standard of quality and uniformity. November 6, 1926 emia i Firp ~ € Opy ~~ thon \y Opry

Page 139

(Continued from Page 132 couldn’t tell them the place wasn’t taking patients.” “Put me down!” said a faint voice. No one paid any attention and the two free stretcher bearers made ready to pull out the first stretcher they could get hands on. ‘Put me down!” said the voice again. It was the lieutenant and he added words horribly profane, but which gave his com- mand emphasis. “Oh, are you awake?” cried the nurse. wringing her hands. “I gave you a shot that would put the Statue of Liberty away for a week! That’s the kind of morphine you get in the army! It has about as much effect as water!” “Put me down!” insisted the lieutenant. They put him down because he was over heavy anyway. ‘‘Now put in the other man,’ went on the officer. ‘‘*Take ‘em all out; they’ve all got it worse than I have.” There was great whispering at this, and the nurse was seen to search her pockets, but she had mislaid her needle, and so could not give the officer more morphine. ‘**Never mind the soldiers’ council,”’ said the lieutenant huskily. ‘‘Put him in and get the hell out of here before they all die.”’ Rooge and Wally took one of the spare stretchers from the side of the ambulance and transferred the wounded prisoner to it. Then they shoved him in as gently as they could. Wally went to the front, while tooge fastened the curtain. The pioneers and the stretcher bearers looked on dumbly. “S’long!’’ said Rooge. “S’long,”’ said the others. back?” “‘Nope. This is the last trip. Them that don’t want to go is out of luck.’”’ This was for the officer’s benefit, but Rooge could see no sign that he had been heard. He then went to his seat in time to see Wally and the nurse again shaking hands. “Leave it to me,” said Wally, and the nurse was gone. In silence the ambulance rolled away and silence was maintained until the ambulance swung into the southbound traffic stream at Montzeville. **Leave what to you?’’ demanded Rooge suddenly. ‘Drivin’ this here ambulance!” “Well, it couldn't be left in poorer hands, but that ain’t the point. You an’ that nurse was makin’ chin music, an’ it’s somethin’ you're ashamed of or you'd have spit it out long ago. C’m on, now, what was it? You promised her you’d make an- other trip up there, didn’t yuh? Well, you'll make it alone. I aim to eat an’ then I aim to go to Foor de Paree where I got orders to go, an’ if you ain’t got sense enough to take me I’m goin’ with some- body that appreciates a good orderly.” ‘I ain’t worryin’,”’ said Wally. ‘‘You wouldn't make no second trip with no one but me. If I wasn’t feeble-minded I'd put in for another orderly long ago. But then I don’t mind you ridin’ with me. It gives me courage. That yap o’ yours goin’ all the time drowns out shellfire an’ so I don’t get scared.” “You ain’t said what you an’ the nurse was hatchin’ up,”’ reminded Rooge. ‘‘ Never mind the cheap wit. I announce right now I ain’t goin’ back there.” ‘Listen,’ said Wally; ‘‘stop talkin’ an’ try can you think up somethin’ to say that sounds like intelligence. While you're tryin’, I'll explain in simple language, a-b, b, what we’re gonna do. We're gonna take these wounded to Sewey. Compree? Then we have chow. Then we beat it to Foor de Pareee. That right? Understand that?”’ “Yeh, that’s right,”” said Rooge. “You been rational so far. Now tell me the fool- sh part.” ‘Foolish? Where d’yuh get that stuff?” ried Wally, obviously disconcerted. ‘Well, it ain’t foolish. This here officer is aide to General Middleton, an’ he’s the old he-one of all the herd round here. So she says we should stop in an’ say his aide is horizontal up in the woods an’ would he “Coming THE SATURDAY send up his car to bring him down, less’n he wants to put in for a new aide.” “Then what?” “Then you an’ me go on to Foor de Paree.”’ Rooge laughed a harsh, mirthless laugh “Well, if that ain’t the limit of your intelli- gence!” he began. “If that ain’t somethin’ that your poor little peanut skull would think up! That gang that went around gradin’ guys’ minds musta graded you as equal to unborn! First off, generals is about as easy to find around here as a plate of ice cream. Where's this general? An’ how come he’s gonna send his big shiny car way off in some woods an’ maybe get it blown up, just for some shavetail to bleed all over the cushions?” “IT wish you'd learn to say somethin’ without usin’ so many words,” answered Wally calmly. ‘Words. If words was brains you’d be Thomas Edison. If you got a cent for every word you spoke you'd be John D. Rockefellar. Your old jaw bearin’s must run hot most o’ the time. If you didn’t like to sleep so, you’d wear 'em out. Go to sleep, an’ when you wake up it’ll be all over.”’ **An’ you'll still be huntin’ for this here general!”’ “No, I won’t. His P. C. is in the town hall at Mandecourt an’ we pass right through it to go to Foor de Paree.”’ “Yeh,” sneered Rooge, “right through it by goin’ about twenty kilometers outta the way! An’ then you ain't got no car yet!”’ “T’ll get the car. The nurse told me all that. She knows this here general. She tended him in the States when he was gettin’ his utensils cut out or somethin’.” “Enjoy yourself,” said Rooge. ‘‘Havea good time. We gotta work twenty-six hours o’ the day an’ this seat won’t be no harder here than it will be anywhere else. Only don’t forget that when the roll is called up yonder in Foor de Paree an’ you're over here borryin’ generals’ limousines, there’ll have to be some explainin’. I was in the mill oncet an’ that’s oncet too much.”’ It was late afternoon before the ambu- lance was back again on the road to Mande- court. There was no conversation on the seat, for Rooge, full of bacon and hard French biscuits soaked in coffee, slept peacefully, while Wally’s mind was busy with the explanation he was going to make when he arrived at the church near Four de Paris five hours later than the time he should have been there. They shot into the pile of ruins that had been Mandecourt, and cutting through a column of prisoners to the great disgust of the military police guarding them, they arrived before the town hall. Wires innumerable went in the door, orderlies sat about, side cars were parked on one side, 2 huge limousine and a touring car at the other, with one of those ancient faded blue affairs that served the French for motor transport. “Wake up, Rooge,”’ said Wally, nudging the other with his elbow. “‘This is us.’” He brought the ambulance to a stop. “‘ Don’t let no one steal this bus now; I’m goin’ in.” He clambered over Rooge’s feet, and mounting the muddy stairs of the building, went in. There were noise and clamor, the continual clicking of typewriters, the ring of many telephones, an overpowering smell of cigar smoke mingled with that of wet wool, and the thump, thump of hobnailed shoes. There was nobody in the hall whom he might question as to the whereabouts of the general, and Wally paused in un- certainty. He was not accustomed to prowling about in the command posts of the mighty. Yet this was a thing that he had promised to do and the quicker it was done the better. He noticed a blanket- curtained door at the right, over which was the sign, Artillery Groupment. There ought to be somebody there who knew where the general was. Wally went in. A huge room, formerly a schoolroom, was now filled with tables on which were spread typewriters, maps, orders, cigar ashes, empty bottles used as candlesticks, map cases, compasses, riding crops, horseshoes, EVENING POST shrapnel noses, and one-pounder shells that were used as paper weights. Officers figured fire data, consciidated reports and issued orders. The corps commander was there, conferring with the commander of the groupment, and with a French division commander regarding the mechanics of moving forward and of keeping up a proper volume of fire at the same time. The corps commander was tall and thin, with a strongly marked nose and chin, wherefore he was called the Old Man of the Mountain He lifted his head and saw what he assumed to be a motorcycle dispatch rider in con- ference with an officer who sat near the door. This man, however, though his gauntlets and leather jerkin might make him look like a dispatch rider, was Wally, and he was asking the man near the door where he might find the general ‘Here, you, have you a message for me?”’ roared the general clear across the room Yes-sir,”” replied W ally Every typewriter stopped and every head came up to listen, startled by the bellowing roar of the general Wally, nervous enough at bei among so many high-ranking officers, and startied by the loudness of the general's shout, re- plied in kind “Yes-sir,”’ he called. “‘There’s a girl up there in the woods —a nurse—an’ she wants to know how’s chances on borryin’ your car to * “What?” The maps on the tables shook with the blast of that inquiry. Not a typewriter clicked, not a pen moved “There’s a nurse,” said Wally lamely She says she knows yuh. She wants to know—huh?"" A hand had tugged at Wally’s sleeve. It was the officer there, who sought to attract Wally’s attention. The room was deathly still. Then from the other side of the curtain came the scrape of hobnails “Wally!’’ a hoarse whisper, yet clearly audible in all corners of the room. “Hey, ask him does he mind the time her ; There was a crash of sound that drowned the rest. The general, his face like the setting sun, had glared all around, and at once every typewriter began to clatter and every pen to scrape madly. The officer who had Wally by the sleeve propelled him to the doorway, but at that instant two very huge, evil-looking men entered, bringing with them a leather-jerkined man with red hair. “This guy was hanging round the door listenin’,”’ said the evil men. ‘Does the major want him looked after?” The two were military police, supposed to guard the portals, and having stepped aside for a minute for purposes of their own so that Wally had been able to get in, and likewise Rooge, they were now only too eager to arrest someone to show how un- ceasing had been their vigilance “Sure, put ’em away,” said the major “Take this one too. They're both drunk.” “‘Look after them,”’ urged the general, speaking with difficulty. ‘‘We’ll see if we can’t impress on them that a corps head- quarters is a poor place for a drunk to wan- der into.’”” Again he glared around, but everyone worked madly, save the French, who sat with open mouths “Come on, youse,” said the M.P.’s; “come wit’ us.”” They retired with their prisoners and the blanket that served as a curtain fell into place again “What did you let that man in for?”’ de- manded the general of the major by the door. ‘Seems to me you ought to have sense enough to keep that sort of intruder out!”’ The general then crossed the room to an officer who perused a march order ** Jump out and get those men away from the police and run ’em out of the sector whispered the general He returned to his seat at the table and He did not want these men arrested. There would be a trial, and things came out at trials that had better be left unknown The officer hurried out. The two police men debated before the door whicl ne mopped his brow Needed in | EVERY Office | Small or Large me a ae le Whether you use a few stamps a day or thousands, you will find very real economy and other advantages in adopting é, the modern method of postage stamp & handling and affixing MULTIPOST) STAMP AFFIXER & RECORDER It is not only a device for quickly and cleanly affixing stamps. It does away with loose stamps laying around Stamps, in coils, are locked in one place. It automatically records stamps used It prevents loss of stamps through carelessness, spoilage, misuse and theft. It prompts the same attituds of respect for stamps as for money And how welcome it is when statements, circular matter or other large mailings must be gotten out quickly near closing time! Thousands «pf smali and large of fices have been using Multiposts for years. Try one yourself at our ex pense. So sure are we of its value, we will put one in on FREE TRIAI Ask your Stationer or Mail the Coupon (Representatives in all large cities) ew oe eee eee mn se THE MULTIPOST CO Rochester, N. Y Send Multipost on Free Tria Send Catalog Name Firm Business Addres sceeseeseceeaesgq becca emenmeucad

Page 140

59 Years of 1877 1926 ! | jem ith or Without Coaster Brake) | > a Standard of the World There never has been there never will be, a worth-while substitute. Standard of the World The Dealer who sells Columbia Cycles stamps his store as the quality shop. WRITE FOR CATALOG ribing the en- STEINFE LD INC. DISTRIBUTORS CHILDRENS CYCLES (1-13 E 26" ST WESTFIELD MFG. co. MAKERS WESTFIE —— | “I said I’d take all responsibility. | officers. | sick,” } scenery! | come around another way. THE SATURDAY should guard the door and which take the two prisoners to the stockade. There was also another man there—a lieutenant col- onel who wore the insignia of the medical corps. “Who's driving this ambulance? the lieutenant colonel. “We are, sir,”’ said Wally sadly; ‘but these guys pinched us an’ won’t leave us go.” “Take ’em away, Johnny,” said one of the police. “‘They won’t worry about am- bulances none for the next six months.” “Hold up a minute,” said the officer. “You want that ambulance, doctor?” “Yes, Ido. A dispatch rider was just in and said that they’d found Dwyer. He’s up in the woods beyond Avocourt, in a field hospital that’s moved up, and so there’s no ambulances running by there. I was going to send this one after him.” “Well, we'll do it!’’ cried the officer. “Found Dwyer at last; that’s fine! The general will be very pleased. Release those two men. You know me, of course. I’m General Middleton’s chief of staff. I'll take the responsibility. He’d rather have Dwyer taken out than fifty drunks court-martialed. Are you men sober enough to drive?” “We ain’t drunk, sir,” said Wally defi- antly. ‘“‘ We was just in there ——’”’ “Shut up!”’ barked a policeman. general ——-”’ “Never mind!”’ interrupted the officer. Put those men in the ambulance and see that they start.” “Come on; come on,” murmured the doctor. ‘Tell all that to Riley; we're in a hurry here. Hop in, and I’ll tell you where this hospital is.” “T know where it is, seen the lootenant too. twice today.” “Been up there twice?” cried the two “Well, why the hell didn’t you bring Dwyer back before now? He was hit at daybreak and you fatheads have let him lie around up there until mid-afternoon! Here, what’s your name? I’m going to turn you in! Here! Stop ’em! Stop that ambulance! Hey!” But the motor roared, the mud flew in showers, and with a lurch and a wild skid the ambulance was gone. They watched it slide around the farthest corner and head north; then the officers went back into the town hall. There was no word said on the seat of the ambulance. Traffic congestion took them as far east as Chattancourt, and they were well on their way to Cuisy when Rooge finally spoke. “Tt ain’t rained all day,” maybe it will tonight.” “‘T’m off women for life!’’ replied Wally. ““Now an’ forever. I never tried to do one a favor but what it cost me two-thirds of a month’s pay or more. Now lookit! A whole day shot, just miss being slammed in the mill, an’ most like get tried for turnin’ up late by seven or eight hours at Foor de Paree. I’m done. The next skirt that wiggles her eyes at me an’ asks me to do some slight favor is gonna hear lan- guage. I ain't kiddin’.”’ **Well,”’ observed Rooge, 7 be guided by me.” “You? You was the bird that popped off this morning an’ made me so ashamed o’ myself I had to say yes. ‘Naw,’ says you. ‘This is our last trip! Naw!’ Ain’t thata fine way to talk to a lady! What else could a man say but, ‘Sure, we'll come back?’ An’ then just as I start to explain to the general, ‘Hey, ask him does he mind the time,’ says you! Ask him does he mind what time? Who the hell asked you to horn in anyway? I left you outside a-purpose, so you wouldn’t upset the beans all over the floor!”’ ‘I was gonna say to ask him to mind the time she took care o’ him when he was said Rooge calmly. “Ain't no harm Well, ain’t this lovely I’m so glad traffic’s thick an’ we It makes things It'll be dark by the ” asked ” “The ” ” said Wally. “I I been up there said he; ‘“‘but you wouldn’t in that. much more interestin’. EVENING POST time we go out again an’ won’t we have an interestin’ time, especially me on the bumper playin’ searchlight with a cigarette. Got any cigarettes, Wally? If you ain’t you’re gonna be missin’ a headlight t’night.”’ Rooge removed his helmet, and putting it on the floor, drew something from his pocket. This he adjusted on his head, and taking a steel trench mirror from another pocket, looked at his reflection with seem- ing satisfaction. “Now, senseless,””’ demanded “‘whatta yuh got there?” He took a careful look ahead, saw that there were no crossroads and that he was at a comfortable distance from a light tour- ing car ahead, and then looked at Rooge. The ambulance slid toward the ditch as Wally twitched the wheel in his astonish- ment. Rooge was wearing an overseas cap bound with gold braid and bearing two large silver stars pinned to it, the insignia of a major general. ““Where’d yuh git that?”’ gasped Wally. ““T went into the hall,’’ said Rooge, re- garding himself from every angle, “‘ knowin’ you for what you was an’ that you’d gum the works somehow. I thought if I was along, I might help yuh out of it. There was some coats an’ hats a-hangin’ up an’ I took this one.’’ He regarded himself in the mirror from a fresh angle. “I think I'd make a good-lookin’ general,’’ he remarked. “Well, what in the name o’ frost-faced freezes are you gonna do with a general’s hat?” “T took it to sell,” said Rooge, removing the cap and carefully refolding it. ‘I'll need it to help pay the blind I’m gonna get for runnin’ wild all day instead o’ goin’ where we was ordered to go. Lots o’ guys will give franes for a general’s hat. A guy could put one o’ them on an’ maybe go to Paris without no pass.” Wally sighed heavily and, shaking his head, returned to the absorbing business of driving. They struck a long stretch of new American-built road—just broken stone thrown on the surface of the ground—and the difficulty of driving through this pre- vented conversation until the ambulance slowed once more for the field hospital. It was almost dark when they got there, but Wally was used to finding places in the dark, and there was a man waiting at the foot of the path who arose with a cry as the ambulance appeared. “Bring him out,” called Wally, getting out on the running board. ‘Stand around now, boys, we gotta get outta here. C’m on, go get him while we’re turnin’ around.” Another man appeared on the path be- side the first, and the two waited, their faces white and gleaming in the semidark, until Rooge came over to them. “Give us a hand,” said they. ‘‘Hell’s loose! Man, you don’t know the half o’ it!” ‘‘What’s the matter?’’ demanded Rooge and Wally simultaneously. “There was a boche shell got a direct hit on a truck load o’ doughboys an’ them they could find they brought in here! Fourteen of ’em!”’ “Fourteen! Man,” gasped Wally, “no sleep tonight! That nurse still here? If she’s got fourteen in there that was under a direct hit, she won’t have much time to hold no lootenant’s hands! Well, fourteen or no fourteen, we come up after that offi- cer, an’ we’re gonna have him. Go get him, Rooge.”’ “He won’t go,” said one of the men by the path. “No use arguin’. He says as his old man is a congressman or somethin’ an’ him bein’ a addykong an’ all, he gets an awful razz all the time. They claim he ain’t got no guts. He says he’ll show 'em! He won't go out while there’s a damn en- listed man waitin’!" A long silence. The men could hear the guns beginning to growl as night came on, and a faint murmur of voices up the path where the fourteen wounded lay with the lieutenant. “‘Rooge,”’ said Wally in a hoarse whisper, “git out that hat o’ yourn! I got it! Unpin them stars an’ pin one each on one o’ them doughs up there an’ then tell that shavey Wally, ” November 6, 1926 that he’s goin’ out with a wagonload o’ generals that was in a limousine under a direct hit. Tell him one general is stayin’ behind so’s he can go out, cause he’s dub officer. Tell him he ain’t got no mortgage on bein’ brave an’ self-denyin’.” “Yeh, but that’s only three,” Rooge. “‘Who’s gonna get the bunk?” “Put the hat on the fourth man! Wally. “That ain’t bad, at that!’’ murmured Rooge to himself. He jumped down from the ambulance and dashed away into the darkness. Wally had turned the ambulance around and was down inspecting his tires when the first stretcher appeared. One of the bearers flicked on a flash light and snapped it off again, but its beam showed that the cur- tain was still down and the gate up, and that the man on the first stretcher was the lieutenant. A second stretcher appeared, and this time Wally had prepared the ambulance for loading. The flash light flickered again and glittered for a second on a silver star that the man on the stretcher wore on his blouse. In he went, and the third stretcher following close behind, the light flashed again. Another general, his body covered with a blanket from feet to head, but fallen away on one side so that the insignia of a chief of brigade showed on his shoulder. The fourth man was entirely covered, even his face, but the inquisitive flash light showed the back of his head, covered with an overseas cap, the edges of which were bound with gold braid. In he went, and after him the wounded lieutenant, who slid into his lower bunk without protest. “Take ’em away,” called Rooge. Wally ran to the front of the ambulance and Rooge, after securing curtain and gate, fol- lowed. ‘They expectin’ us back?” asked Wally. “‘Nope,”’ said Rooge. ‘“‘The nurse got word out to them engineers an’ they said they’d give her some trucks as soon as they was unloaded. We’re done. This here is our last trip. x “Tt is to this hospital anyway, Wally. The road after a time came out of the woods and crossed a wide stretch of open beyond Malancourt. It was lighter here than in the woods and in the twilight Rooge began to take things from his pocket and peer at them. “Whatchyuh got?” asked Wally idly. “‘A pistol, one o’ them French split- second, double-actin’, read-an-repeat watches, an’ a roll of seven ten-franc bills.”’ “You been robbin’ them wounded?” cried Wally. ‘“‘You oughta be hung! Rooge, if one o’ them jaspers finds out you skun him they’! nail your hide to the ridge pole. I ain’t kiddin’!”’ “How you talk!” scoffed Rooge. ‘I never rob no wounded an’ you know it. Yuh mind I went up there pinnin’ stars on them birds off my general's hat? Well, I says to each one, I says, ‘ You're hit bad an’ I don’t want yuh to ride out in no truck, so I’m gonna pin this star on yuh, or give yuh this hat, an’ then you'll go right out in the first ambulance.’ An’ they was so grateful to me they give me these things.” “Boy,” said Wally severely, ‘they'll hang you yet. That pistol an’ watch an’ money all you got?”’ “No,” said Rooge, and Wally could see him leer horribly in the semidarkness “‘That nurse give me a big fat kiss!”’ “Huh?” shrieked Wally. ‘ Didn’t she ever think there was a driver on this here bus?” **She objected fourth ‘ cried ’ agreed was busy,” replied Rooge. ‘‘She had a gang o’ wounded to look after.”’ There was no further word for several miles, but a halt in the stream of traffic gave Wally a chance to speak. “Why didn’t you tell a fellar she was puttin’ out demanded. ‘I coulda got off an’ walked in there.”’ ‘Never thought of it,’’ said Rooge sleepily. ‘‘An’, anyway, you was tellin’ me you was off women for life.”’ kisses?’’ he

Page 141

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

ti anne

oo = ~~ *

Bawana Puppvinc—a dessert for children who like sweets and for men who like substantial food When and why they are good for children IPE bananas are ) ; -b > = 20 Make sure of ripe R meee The sealed, germ - proof package turns from green to gold Pag yes for chikisen for four ds its contents turn from starch to sugar - ees wiles reasons: qaozen., O not make Bananas are sealed by Nature in a clean the mistake of putting them in the ice chest, and e rm-proof package. for cold interferes with the ripening process iamai ' , ' , ' +1 They can be eaten in the natural state. Put them 1n a Dow! Or dish, and leave them

They are packed with energy-making cer- out in the air to ripen at room temperature bohydrates that restless little bodies need. They are verv easy to digest—so easy that EI children can eat great and nourishing quan- UNIFRUIT BANANAS tities of ripe bananas without any ill effect For Grown-u I ‘ : ST k S vhatever. pete ay eile yet nila ay Rn ot Like all good things, banana goodness ee a eee eee RUIT DISPATCH worth walting for. Wait until the fruit 1S As bananas ripen, theit ( wb shydrates al = vholly ripe. Wait until all trace of green changed into fruit sugars whi h are ea , _ . me is gone, and the skin is flecked with brown. and quickly digested and ibsorbed. Rip Then a banana is fully ripe, and its greater ness brings bananas one step nearer digestion . . 7 , 7 sweetness 1S easy to digest. than most other carbohy drate foods.

Page 142

OOLING systems like other motor parts need attention. After a Summer and Fall of strenuous service, your radiator is likely to be encrusted with rust, scale, slime and mud—and pos- sibly leaky —~fore-runners of a heated engine and other serious difficulties. A Don’t take a chance on ruining your motor—keep a can of Dutch Brand Radiator-Seal in your tool kit for emergencies — it won't deteriorate. Radiator-Seal is simple to use— just pour it into the radiator— it will seal up leaks in the radi- ator, water jacket or radiator hose quickly and permanently. Buy a can from your nearest Motor Accessory dealer and be prepared for that eventual leak. If not yet in your dealer’s stock send 75c for a can, postpaid. There are 20 other Dutch Brand Motor Aids that will save you money. A large can for 75 cents n through jobbing channels BROS., Est. 1910 ti National I VAN CL Manufacturers Rubber and Chemical Products Woodlawn Ave., 77th to 78th Streets CHICAGO THE SATURDAY “‘Grass’ll be knee-high in the spring,” said Beckel. ‘‘All sorts of feed for my stock. And there’s consider’ble placer gold on this flat too. A man could make pretty fair wages placerin’. I’maimin’ tolocate my flat soon’s I get round toit. But I’m too busy pros- pectin’ for that ledge right now. Besides, there’s plenty of time.” ‘Plenty of time,’’ agreed Rudie warmly. “Brother, you'll be sittin’ pretty when you find your ledge. Nice home, plenty grass, wood and water—and you got it comin’ to you... Well, I reckon I ought to be hittin’ the trail. You reckon the trail’s open?”’ “No, you better wait two-three days, Pel,”’ Beckel advised him. ‘Your laig’s practically as good as new again, but it wouldn’t be wise to take any chances with the river crossin's yet. You stay right here with me till the water goes down a little. You’re welcome to everything I got. Don’t be in no hurry to go.” Rudie thanked him extravagantly, as- suring him over and over that he cert’ny was a prince. The days went by, and one evening the old prospector came into the cabin, his face glowing with enthusiasm. “T had it figured right, Pel!’ he exulted. “T knowed that rich rock must have come down off of Garbey, and today I found another piece, two-thirds the way to the summit.”’ He produced his new find and showed it proudly to his friend. Undoubtedly it was from the same ledge as the pocket piece that he had exhibited to Rudie. This one also showed rich streaks and points of gold, the same dirty gray quartz. Rudie’s fingers trembled again as he turned this new speci- men in his thick fingers. “But why ain’t there more of it?”’ he wanted to know. “Looks like if there was ledge up there and pieces breakin’ off, why, there'd be lots of ’em.” ‘“‘Prob’ly a blind ledge,”’ said Beckel. ‘‘It happens that way. Ledge buried under the ground, and only a piece gettin’ to the surface now and then.”’ Rudie went up with the prospector next day and together they hunted about the spot where the find had been made before, but no more bits of the rich float were found. At noon they sat down on the point of a bold ridge to eat their lunch. Above them the summit of Garbey Hill lay against the sky; before them was spread out the level fir-covered flat beyond Tom Bell Creek, with their cabin resembling a toy house, the horse and donkey, grazing near by, resem- bling toy animals come to life. Lifting its jagged crags farther down the creek, Fool Ridge loomed in the sun, ugly and unin- viting. “What for do you call it Fool Ridge?” asked Rudie, and Beckel grinned. *‘Oh,” he said, ‘‘I just named it that be- cause I been tryin’ to find colors there and I’ve always been fooled. There ain't a thing on Fool Ridge and I know it; but in spite of that, why, I keep goin’ back. And every time I go back I call myself a fool for doin’ it, wastin’ my time thataway. But there’s a little bench on the other side of Fool Ridge, with a garden place and a spring. I’ve always wanted to build me a cabin right out there on that bench, among the little firs. Great place for a cabin. I could throw my old tin cans over the bluff and they’d fall a thousand feet and I'd be plumb rid of them. Funny, ain’t it, how a feller picks out a particular spot for his home and don’t know why that particular spot seems so good to him? But I’ve al- ways wanted to live on Fool Ridge, and I reckon that’s why I been so determined to find gold there.”’ “Well,” said Rudie, “I can’t see myself livin’ on no Fool Ridge. No, sir! Me, soon’s I'd made a strike, I'd cash it and hit the trail for the bright lights. Too hard to find booze up here. Nothin’ doin’ and nothin’ to look at but hills. Say, I EVENING POST FOOL RIDGE (Continued from Page 40) believe I’ll go down to the cabin. My laig’s zchin’ a little.” That afternoon Beckel came upon an- other piece of the rich float, only a hundred yards below the summit of Garbey Hill. Fifteen minutes later he found two more, and after that half a dozen—small pieces, but all showing gold. Then again the slope was barren and he found no more, though he hunted feverishly until darkness made it impossible to see with discernment. He hurried down to the cabin, exultant. “‘Ain’t a doubt about it now!” he said, his voicetrembling withexcitement. “ Right under the summit—a child could find it now! No need to find any more float. All I got to do is run a drift into the hill and that old ledge is mine—mine, after forty years of prospectin’ and freezin’ and goin’ hungry! Pel, it shorely means alot tome!” Rudie was no less excited. Until near midnight the two men sat before the fire, talking about the imminence of a great strike. Generously old Beckel urged Rudie to accept a partnership, but the guest de- murred. ““Wouldn’t be right, none at all,’’ he said positively, “‘me droppin’ in casual and takin’ half of what you been huntin’ after for a lifetime. No, brother, a pardnership is all right with some people, but usually it don’t turn out so good. Every feller for himself is my motto. That’s business—cold business. Every feller for himself.’ But from that time on until they went to bed he questioned old Beckel minutely, learning all the fine points of developing blind ledges. “Well, good night, brother,”’ he said as they sought their bunks at last. ‘ Here’s hopin’ you find her and that she makes you rich. You deserve it, brother. You saved my life.” “T reckon I ought to locate tomorrow,’ said Beckel as he blew out the light. ‘Still, ain’t no hurry. I'll prospect most of the day and stick up my location notice next mornin’. I got a couple or three blanks on the mantel there.” Just one more piece of the rich ore showed up next day—only twenty feet below the backbone of the hill. That was enough for old Beckel. He began to dig, starting a trench across the narrow ridge that was the summit. He worked furiously, spurred by visions of the fortune that must lie hidden somewhere in that narrow backbone of the hill. It would be a ledge—not a stringer; he was sure of that. The specimens that he had found coming up the slope had never come from a stringer, but from a ledge. And a ledge as rich as that—-why, merely a few tons of such ore would place him for- ever beyond want! Two hours of work brought him through the loose surface soil and into the hard rock. Clearly he could do no more until he returned to his cabin and brought up dyna- mite and drills. He sat down to rest; and as he rested he contemplated his little heap of ore fragments, found after so much pa- tient hunting. Little and insignificant they looked, but they were to mark the turning point in his life. They were going to make him rich. From the tiny heap of quartz his gaze wandered to Fool Ridge. Maybe he would be able to live there after all! The splendid thought took the form of an urge to go over and see what the recent storm had done to his little bench, hanging in the air a thousand feet above Tom Bell Creek. It was not yet noon, and he had ample time to visit his prospective home and still get down to the cabin in time for supper. Fool Ridge had also felt the ravage of the heavy downpour. Huge gullies had been washed in the shaly slopes and he found that a number of rocks had even been flung down upon his little bench, between the spring and the edge of the precipice. How- ever, in the main, his chosen spot had not been injured. He walked to the edge of the November 6, 1926 precipice and looked down, grinning to him- self as he recalled what he had said to Pel Rudie about throwing his empty tin cans over the edge. He walked back across the bench, marking the spot where he would build his cabin and visualizing his garden, watered by the spring that gushed from the gully that seamed the rock wall back of the bench and was filled with a tangle of bow]- ders and windfalls, through which grew a luxuriant mass of alders. He would go back and take a look at his spring. Old Beckel did not get home in time for supper. Instead, it was quite dark when he reached Buckhorn Meadows, and his little cabin window was glowing cheerily. Breathless and eager, he shoved the door open. “T got her, Pel!’’ he shouted as he stepped inside. “Say, I found ——” He stopped abruptly, then closed the door gently behind him. Pel Rudie was not alone. Across the table from Pel sat a fat, uncouth man with bleared popeyes of faded blue, beneath which the lower lids hung like fiery red cups above the pouchy skin below. The man’s face was pitted from smallpox and his thick lips hung loosely, quivering irresponsibly. Between the two men stood a bottle and the room was stifling blue with the reek from their pipes. ““Come in—come in, ole-timer!”’ cackled Rudie, leering through the smoke. “ Meet Speck Brannan, ole frien’ of mine. We used to be pals together in San Francisco. Las’ feller I was expectin’ to see when he walked in here, jus’ after you left this mornin’. Yes, sir, I was surprised. Won- nerful coincidence—me and Speck meetin’ up like this! Wonnerful!”’ “‘Absolooly!’’ agreed the pock-marked man with drunken gravity. He leered owlishly across the bottle, then poured a drink with blundering, flabby hands, his watery popeyes reeling above the fire-red cups of the fallen underlids. “Well, Pel,’”’ he said, “you lucky ole son of a gun, here’s lookin’ atchoo!”’ “Drink till you bust!’”’ Rudie exhorted him. They drank, after touching glasses clumsily, and giggled, with cunning side glances at their host. Beckel was silent, for a premonition of impending trouble had come to him. He sat down by the fire and the convivialists immediately forgot him. ‘Yes, sir,’’ said Rudie, as though contin- uing an interrupted conversation, “you'll be my superintendent, Speck. Good ole Speck! Pel Rudie never forgets his frien’s! Nos-sir! Pals once, pals till we croak! Tha’s me, Speck!”’ “Shake!” begged the fat man, and they shook hands across the splashed table, alcoholic tears in their eyes. ‘‘Garbey Hill’s boun’ to make you a millionaire, Pel!” declared Brannan. ‘‘ Boun’ to make you a millionaire!” “Besshir life!’’ said Rudie. ‘‘Buy me a yacht and fill it with booze. We'll go roun’ the world in it, Speck, you an’ me.” “How will Garbey Hill make you a millionaire?’’ Beckel Smith had risen and was standing upon the hearth, for his pre- monition of impending trouble had ripened to a sickening certainty. His stubbly face was drawn and white and a strained anx- iety showed in his kindly eyes. The two men looked up, surprised, for they had quite forgotten that he was there. Brannan regarded the prospector for several moments with reeling then turned his regard to Rudie, sitting opposite, grinning. “‘He don’t know about it!” said Bran- nan, again speaking with heavy drunken gravity. “‘Tell ’im, Pel!” “Garbey Hill belongs to me!”’ explained Rudie bluntly, and his grin grew wider. ““Me and Speck—we went up there just after noon and saw you climbin’ across Continued on Page 142 popeyes,

Page 143

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST i41

Sweet are the fruits of thought!

q is ° / = Prosperity, advancement, the admiration of your fellow men ,} } . . —all these spring from the pikes j rightly nurtured seed. === Plant the seed of thought f Your Eversharp r TeAT re it wei ill take rool and } tll mever clog, Fg 1m oO} cratc F , . » . ,? ° oF coe aoe oats j / io {71SA Jor Qil Tlie, if you use only the leads that / . . yme in this Red Top box / F , ; j 2» > > oO | j JU Ly OVy VIDE EU \ y Suc cess Wall on the man y* f bao cas tome andl who keeps in line with Ats

i thinking that first friend of i an active brain, j EVERSHARP © 1926, The Wahl Company, Chicago 7 1@ name 15 on the pencil The Wah! Co., Ltd., Toronto

Page 144

142 THE SATURDAY \ ! ~ Your legs will thank you / Unending Comfort TEVER Will your legs cease to iN thank you while you wear Brighton Wide-Webs. The com- fort lasts from start to finish. Brighton elastic is built for comfort—built to permit you to wear garters loosely. There is practically no tension—no_bind- ing——no checking of circulation. Yet Brightons support socks perfectly. Make the next pair Brighton Wide-Webs. PIONEER SUSPENDER COMPANY Philadelphia, Pa. For 49 Years Manufacturers of Pioneer Suspenders Pioneer Belts PIONEER PIONEER PIONEER Brighton Garters tor WIDE-WEB GARTERS Single Grip 35¢ and up Double Grip 50c and up EVENING POST (Continued from Page 140) Fool Ridge. I'd brung the location notices with me; and so when we found where you'd been diggin’, why, I located Garbey Hill from one end to the other, and ole Speck here, he signed as witness.” “‘Besshir dam life!’ hiccuped Brannan. “Located Fool Ridge too—for luck!” There was a short silence, while Beckel Smith strove to comprehend the incredible news. ‘““You—you mean to say you jumped my claim?” he asked then, his voice hoarse and unnatural. “No, we didn’t jump your claim,” ex- plained Rudie. ‘‘You hadn’t located it yet; soit wasn’t yours none at all, see?”’ “But I found it!” protested Beckel, his hoarse voice rising. ‘‘And I was goin’ to locate it in the mornin’. I told you I was goin’ to locate it in the mornin’.” “Sure you was goin’ to locate it in the mornin’!”” chuckled Rudie in vast glee. “‘But I beat you to it, see? Why not? Ain’t that business? Sure! Competition. If one feller sees a chance to beat another feller to a deal, ain’t it good business? Hey? Say, Speck, ain’t it good business?” “Absolooly!”’ agreed the drunkard. “‘Besshir cockeyed life’s goo’ business!” Again ashort silence, while Beckel Smith stood stooped and gaunt upon the hearth, his whole being wrung in a convulsion of grief over his lost possessions and the heinous thing that had been done to him. The realization of his friend’s atrocious perfidy burst suddenly behind his eyes in a red coruscation of wrath, and his big hands, knotted with toil, opened and shut con- vulsively. “Get out of my house!” he ordered. “Both of you, get out of my house!” “Tt ain’t your house!” giggled Rudie. “T located Buckhorn Meadows, too, and you ain't got no more house than a rabbit. Hey, watch him, Speck!” ' In two strides old Beckel Smith had reached the table and flung himself across it, grappling Rudie’s thick neck in his gnarled hands. The table went down, with the two men struggling in the débris, and Speck Brannan went over backward upon the floor, still clutching his bottle. He scram- bled awkwardly to his feet, trying to focus his reeling popeyes upon the battle. ““Shrow him out!’’ he commanded, his voice full of injured wrath. ‘‘Shrow the ole nut out on his neck!”’ Then, with no hesitation whatever, he swung the heavy bottle upon Beckel Smith’s head. When the old prospector came back to consciousness he was lying upon the ground outside the cabin door. From within came the sound of maudlin laughter and still more maudlin song. His head ached hor- ribly and blood had filled his eyes. The wind had risen and broken clouds raced across the face of the flying moon. It was very cold. Gradually recollection came to him in some degree, though he could not yet re- member it all. Still, in his mind he knew that he had been robbed of all he pos- sessed and nearly killed into the bargain. He had been jumped and there was no use in fighting. Their claims would hold in any court, though morally these men were worthy of death and had no rights in the property. What use to fight? He had been jumped. The cabin, which had cost him a whole summer’s hard work, was gone too. Nothing left but to get down to the valley or he would freeze or starve —both, probably. The old man was badly hurt, but he man- aged to get down to the corral and saddle his animals. This was a_ heartbreaking enterprise, for his head whirled and a hor- rible nausea racked him. However, the thing was accomplished at last, and he got into the saddle and started down the trail along Tom Bell Creek, driving his donkey ahead of him. Half a mile down the creek he looked up and saw the moon come from behind a jagged cloud and hang exactly above the rugged outlines of Fool Ridge. The old November 6, 1926 man stopped his horse and sat in the sad- dle, contemplating the dark mass looming in the moonlight; then got down, tied his horse to a tree and started up Fool Ridge, babbling to himself. He was gone a long time. Daylight was breaking when he got back, almost ex- hausted, half delirious and still talking incoherently. He dragged himself with difficulty into the saddle and started on. **Good-by, ole Fool Ridge,”’ he said. ‘‘See you later, maybe.’”’ Rocking in the saddle and still lapsing from time to time into delirium, he continued on down the creek. The clouds suddenly became a solid mass that covered the sky and shut out the moon. The wind howled down the canyon and snow began to fall—the beginning of the long winter storms. Beckel Smith dis- appeared in the gloom of it, and as he went he began to sing: “T chaw my tobacker and I chaw it fine; I cinch my pony with a wild grape I stir my batter and I fry it in a par I'ma rough, tough, ba-a-ad Missouri man mi \ INTER had passed and it was the first week in June. Old Tom Bel came riding down from the headwaters of the creek that bore his name, seeking con- versation. He was a sociable man, gre- garious to a degree, and the long winter months of solitude had left him with a bottled-up accumulation of words that clamored to be uttered. Past seventy years of age, Tom Bell was a huge, grizzly bear of a man, with wrists like cordwood. His whiskers sprayed over his barrel-like chest, black as a crow’s wing and showing not one gray hair. The old trapper-prospector smoked a short- stemmed cob pipe and a cloud of evil smoke trailed behind him like a pestilence. Tom Bell looked about him apprecia- tively as he crossed Buckhorn Meadows The grass grew to his stirrup leathers and the place was flaming with wild flowers. Birds sang everywhere, and from the cabin at the lower edge of the Meadows came the sound of an ax. Tom Bell kicked his horse in the ribs and looked ahead eagerly. “Ole Beck’ll be glad to see me!”’’ he chuckled in his whiskers. ‘‘ Ain’t seen the ole cuss for nearly a year!” But it was not Beckel Smith that he saw when he reached the cabin. Pel Rudie looked up from the chopping block and smiled cordially. “Hello, brother!”’ he greeted Tom Bell with warm affability. **Hello,”” boomed Tom B cavernous chest. “‘Where’s Beck?” “You mean the ole feller that used to live here? Why, he ain’t here no more. I—I bought him out last fall.”’ Bell was bitterly disappointed, and with his disappointment was mingled a vague incredulity. “Ole Beck sold out?’’ he repeated. “What for? He was figurin’ on stayin’ here permanent when I saw him last s Where’s he at?”’ Rudie shot a furtive look at the big man, but kept his air of affability. ““Me and my pardner-—we ain’t seen the ole feller since he went away last fall,” he said. ‘But a feller come by a few days down the ell from his ago and said ole Beck was locate: creek a ways, maybe half a mile or so be- low Fool Ridge. This feller said the ol man was crazy.” “Crazy!” roared Tom Bell, and the echo rolled back from the slope of Garbey Hill ““How’d Beck Smith beegoin’ crazy, hey?” “T don’t know, brother,” said Rudie virtuously. ‘I’m only tellin’ you what this feller said. He's a cattleman, lookin’ for range; and he said ole Beck was sinkin’ a shaft in the barren sandstone, and when this feller asked him what he was doin’ it for, the old man said his little bird told hin to sink there.” ‘Little bird?’’ Old Tom Bell was hope lessly bewildered. Continued on Page 145 — —- = iy \

Page 145

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST GNAVOX CONE SPEAKER Actual Size —FROM PHOTOGRAPH SS, —— —_ eae 3 —— mas ~ a = Stark Realism -Aagnavox, creator of the orig- inal loud speaker, now pre- sents the greatest advance in sound amplification. The new -ACagnavox loud speaker reproduces the entire tonal scale. Noinstrument or note within audible range is too high or too low for per- fect reproduction. Reception comes in lucid, sharp-cut, vivid—not muffled, not “fogged.” All the beauty of the original is retained. -Magnavox dealers are giv- ing continuous demonstra- tions of this marvelous new speaker. See and hear it—let your ears prove the difference Stanford model, pictured here,*35. Cornell model,*22 They improve any set THE MAGNAVOX COMPANY Oakiand, Califor? R.S. Williams & Sons, Ltd.,T aaa tinciuding B if you haven't a satisfactory radio investigate Magnavox single dial control sets. Made in seven handsome models, some with Magna- vox Cone Speakers built-in. 55s © 192 4NNIVERSARY OF MAGNAVOX PROGRESS IN RADIO FIFTEENTH

Page 146

144 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

r=3 r-9i + i wae au aa eau Delt wen vt cadany %

a \___ : ridin : ed eds 1 | li 8 | he ae mat THT T. opi MO. eini “eaucet a a a © EPLC

Page 147

(Continued from Page 142 “That’s what he said, brother little bird. Always talkin’ about his little bird, and listenin’. This cattleman said it got his goat, watchin’ ole Beck holdin’ hi breath and listenin’.”” Rudie cackled loudly. ‘“‘A woodpecker, the cattleman said. Think of it, brother—sinkin’ a shaft in barren sandstone just because a wood- pecker told him to!’’ Again Rudie cackled. But Bell did not smile. “‘ Mighty sorry to hear that!” he said gravely. ‘“‘ Mighty sorry. Me and Beck, we been friends for forty years—pardners part of the time and I never knowed a feller that was a bet- ter friend than ole Beckel Smith. I reckon I'll go down and see Beck.”’ Bell jogged on down the creek past Foo! Ridge, and half a mile below he saw a rude lean-to that had been built close to the trail. He dismounted and went up a little trail, where he found Beckel Smith sitting upon a mound of waste from a shaft. “‘Ha’r ye, Beck!” bawled old Tom, his forest of whiskers splitting apart in a friendly grin. ‘‘H’ar ye, ole son of a gun?” Beckel Smith arose and regarded his visitor in evident perplexity, his brows drawn anxiously above the kindly eyes. “Your face seems somehow familiar to me, stranger,” he said haltingly. ‘‘ But where’ve I met up with you before?’ Tom Bell paused, astounded, and again his tangled whiskers fell apart as he goggled at Beckel in helpless bewilderment. “Why, I’m Tom Bell!”’ he said. “Aw, quit your foolin’, Beck! You ain’t forgot ole Tom Bell, have you, Beck?”’ A faint expression of recognition crossed the prospector’s face. He took off his hat and ran his fingers uncertainly through his hair, where was revealed a long, jagged scar that came down almost halfway to his brow. “Why, shorely!”’ he said, though still somewhat uncertainly. ‘“‘Of course I re- member Tom Bell! Ha’r ye, Tom?” The two men shook hands. ‘‘Got to overlook a lot I do,’’ Smith said apologetically. ““You see, I got myself hurt a while back, and ever since then I seem to forget. Someway or other I seem The words trailed off into nothing. “‘How’d you get hurt, Beck?” asked Bell, and again the puzzled, helpless ex- pression crossed the prospector’s good- natured face. ““Seems like something hit me,”’ he said. *‘Or maybe it was a jackass kicked me. I—I don’t remember like I used to Again that trailing off into nothing. Tom Bell regarded his old friend askance, a cold, horrified feeling grewing in the trapper’s big heart. Yes, sir, Beckel Smith was crazy. Rumor had it right; no doubt about it. Poor old Beck! Bell’s eyes fell upon the waste heap and he stooped suddenly, picking up a bit of quartz. Rich quartz, too, as old Tom’s experienced eyes told him. It was shot with gold and very heavy. It couldn’t be possible, yet there it was. His eye caught several-other fragments, lying among the waste. “Look, Beck!” he exclaimed, his voice trembling with excitement. ‘“‘When did you strike it?” Beckel Smith regarded the bit of high- grade ore indifferently “Oh, that?”’ he said. Fool’s gold.” “Fool's hell!’’ bawled Tom Bell, growing excited. ‘‘What you tryin’ to tell me, Beck? That’s high-gr rade rock and you know it! Why, say “*T reckon I know fool’s gold when I see it!” said Beckel Smith, his voice rising in mild asperity. ‘‘But I’m goin’ to strike the real thing pretty soon.’’ His manner changed abruptly and his eyes glittered feverishly. ‘“‘I’m runnin’ a drift from a point halfway down the hole. That drift’s goin’ to make me rich.” Tom Bell stepped over to the shaft and peered down. ‘“‘Why,” he exclaimed, ‘*you’re dumpin’ the waste from the drift into your shaft! “T got lots of it. Sure!"’ smiled Beckel Smith. “Fill her up level with my drift, of course. Why not?” “Why not?” the moment forgetting his friend's afflic- tion. ‘‘Coverin’ this stuff up!"’ He thrust a handful of the splendid fragments to- ward Beckel’s face. ‘‘Coverin’ up a for- tune!”’ “*Listen!’’ whispered Beckel. There was an eager half smile on his face and he lifted a gnarled hand imperatively. “What is it?”’ asked Bell, whispering also. ‘My little bird!” ‘“‘Aw, Beck!”” Tom Bell’s voice was tremulous and pleading, and a cold horror was crawling along his spine and ting] ing the roots of his hair. “‘Aw, say, Beck From the top of a dead pine on the slope beyond the creek a flicker was calling. “Hear him?” whispered Beckel, smiling raptly. ‘“‘‘Beckel, Beckel, Beckel’—hear him callin’ me? He’s tellin’ me to get to work.”’ Beckel Smith put his foot on the rickety ladder beneath the rude windlass. Good-by, Mr. What was it you said yourname was? Oh, yes— Tom Bell! I know Tom Bell—shorely! Good-by, Tom.” He disappeared down the shaft and presently there began the rhythmic clink of his drill. Tom Bell hung round uncertainly for few moments, wondering what he should do. Clearly something had to be done but what? In the end he mounted his horse and went back to the cabin on Buck- horn Meadows. Rudie was sitting upon the woodpile, smoking idly. “You been told right,’’ said Tom Bell heavily. ‘Poor ole Beckel—he’s crazy! Why, friend, he didn’t even know me! And him and me, we been close friends for the last forty years! But I found out what crazied him; he got a knock. on the head. They’s a big scar left.” Rudie shot a furtive look at the big bearded face, now wearing a look of wor- ried bewilderment. “* How did he get that crack on the nut!” asked Rudie. “‘He didn’t even know that,’’ mourned poor Tom Bell. “Said he’d fell or else he’d been kicked by a jackass. His memory’s plumb fogged up and he don’t hardly know his own name!” ‘That’s tough,”’ said Rudie, though his face registered secret satisfaction. Brannan came to the door, a bottle in his hand, gawking stupidly. From time to time he hiccuped. For a while there were no more words. Tom Bell sat slumped in the saddle, think- ing and worrying. Rudie had seated himself upon the chopping block and was waiting, his shifty eyes watching the big bearded face of the trapper. Bell roused himself finally and looked down. “Struck anything yet?”’ ing conversation. “Not a thing!’’ replied Rudie bitterly. “We found half a dozen rich pieces of float rock last fall, but that was all. We been diggin’ ever since, but we ain’t found no sign of the ledge they come from. We've plumb wore ourselves out, too, and our grub’s nearly gone.” Bell was interested. ‘‘Where at did you find that rich float rock?’’ he asked, and Rudie described the place. “Dirty-lookin’ quartz with a ting« red in it?”’ “Tos.” Bell grinned. ‘‘Why,” he said, “I lost them pieces of quartz myself thirty-five years ago! I picked ’em up along the creek, about half a mile below Fool Ridge about where old Beckel Smith’s claim is rea now. Rudie’s heart sank. ‘‘But however did they get up on Garbey Hill?” he wanted to know, and Bell grinned again. “‘T lost ’em up there,” he said. ‘‘I had ’em in my saddlebags and one day I was drivin’ my jackass down that ridge and a yellow jacket stung him on the tail. The durn fool run away and them pieces of rich bellowed Tom Bell, for he asked, mak- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST rock jumped out of my saddlebags and I neve lid find ‘en ! Friend, they ain't no ledge up on G f I proved that thirty-five years ago. You're wastin’ your time there Rudie said nothing, for his high hopes had died a violent death. The claim for which he had betrayed his good Samaritan was worthless, and he was crushed ‘That reminds me,” said Bell, and pulled a handful of rock fragments from his pocket “I found these on Beckel’s waste dump.”’ Rudie took the fragments and glanced at them excitedly ‘It’s the same rock!” he exclaimed. ‘“‘ Very same stuff!’’ His mind went back to their previous conversatior ‘And you say you found the Garbey H float at the same place thirty-five years ago > Why, then old Beckel’s found it! ‘The waste dump is full of it,”’ Bell told him. ‘‘And he don’t know it’s gold! Now what do you think of that? He says i fool's gold.” “Has he got a ledge?” asked Rudie breathlessly. “Of course he’s got a ledge! Anybod could see that was ledge ore. And what do you reckon he’s doin’ right now? Fillin’ hole up again! Just because his little bird told himto! He’s got a fortune down in the bottom of that hole—and don’t know it!” Rudie swallowed convulsively, his avid eyes upon the handful of quartz. In doorway the drunkard’s mouth had fallen open and when he hiccuped it sounded like a yell. Bell gathered up the reins, for he had come to a decision. “Some body’ 8 got to look after poor ole Beckel,’’ he said, “and I’m the one, me bein’ his oldest friend. He oughtn’t to be left alone down there. But I got to go home first and get things in shape. I'll be much obliged if you boys’ll make it a point to look after Beck till I get back.” “Sure, brother!”’ said Rudie heartily ‘Me and Speck, we'll go down there right away. Don’t you worry—we'll look after ole Beck Bell rode away. He was scarcely out of hearing when Rudie spoke, the muscles jerking in his hard, seamed neck ““A set-up, Speck!” he exulted. “‘He’ got a ledge of the richest rock I ever saw, and he’s so crazy he don’t know it. He's all alone. He didn’t recognize his best friend, so he won’t remember us. Get that He won't remember us at all!”’ “Absolooly!’’ said Brannan with con- viction, though he had no idea of what it was all about. ‘‘Shree cheers!” “And do you remember how nutty he used to be over Fool Ridge, Speck? We tr we'll lead him up to that, and I bet you we can kid him into trading his new ledge for Fool Ridge, see? Yes, Sir, I bet you ne fall for it.” The drunkard waved his bottle trium phantly. ‘Shree cheers!” he re peate d Iv JECKEL SMITH wavered. Rudie could ) see that the poor fellow wavered, and the squat man’s heart gave an exultant bound. “Fool Ridge,’ he suggested softly to the wandering mind. “‘ Remember? And you'll build you a cabin on the little bench remember the ‘littl bench with the firs on right at the edge of the aff? ”’ The pe ing of a smile came into old seckel’s wrinkled face, half dispelling the perplexed expressior ever since the two men arrive ood “‘Sure I remember Fool Ridge 1 ‘And—yes, I was goin ‘to buil id me a cabin I was goin’ to build ** And throw your tin cans over the bluff, which had been there prompted Rudie slyly, —" leadi ng the wrecked mind care fully ‘And them tin cans would fal! a thousand feet into Tom Bell Creek—remember?”’ “T remember!’ The smile was now a delighted one—the delighted smile of a child that has suddenly remembered the promise of a new toy. And then, as s de nly as It had appeare 1, the smile faded and the old man’s face clouded with de jection Continued on Page 147 Qa, VEN the word, Button, be gins with a but. old-fashioned underwear were 3uttons on necessary but bothersome; im portant in dressing but equally annoying: plete but usually cracked, broken or missing. They had a but for every button. The HATCHWAY No-Button Union Suit eliminates every objection you ever found in one of the old It is de- signed and patented without a single button anywhere in its entire construction. It cannot pull, bind or chafe. It cannot cost you a penny or a minute in the upkeep of expensive repairs. It cannot give you anything but a comfort and satisfaction you have never believed possible occasionally com fashioned garments. HATCHWAY is made to please every taste. To suit every pocketbook. M&e r heavy, in cotton, wool, worsted r mercerized fabrics . st good de al r 1 HATCHWAY UNION SUITS But if you have the aa htest difficulty getting exactly what you want, we will i, delivery n the United States giadly see you are supple free, anywhere Men’s Su 0; $2.50; $3.00; $4.01 $ IT $6.00 Boys’ Suit Aves 6 to 16 $1.50; $2.00 In ordering, please write, stating ‘siz 1 enclosing check or money rder irect t ur mill at Albany. A beauti ful catalogue illustrating the mplete line of HATCHWAY lL NION SUITS in both winter and summer wei ent free on request DEALERS FULD & HATCH KNITTING CO Albany New Y Woods Underwear Co., Ltd, 7 to, ( Licensed Manufact for ¢

Page 148

; THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 Res os. pps es & ve different tobacco in a gener ation Guaranteed by

Page 149

Continued from Page 145 “But I’m afraid,” he said. “I’m afraid my little bird wouldn't like that. You see, he’s always told me this hole would make me rich.” “Aw, shucks!” scoffed Rudie. “TI bet your little bird wouldn’t ever find out about it.” “Yes, he would!” insisted Beckel ear nestly, the depression deepening upon his seamed face. ‘‘ My little bird would know, and he'd raise hell with me.”’ They were silent for some moments, sit- ting upon the waste heap. Around them was the warm silence of the soft June day and new butterflies flitted past, clean winged and joyous in the sunlight. Suddenly, com ing from far up the slope of Fool Ridge, half a mile away, sounded the faint drum ming of a woodpecker. “Listen!” whispered Beckel. him!” The drumming came again. The old prospector got up from the waste heap and tiptoed away into the brush in order to hear better, and the two conspirators immedi- ately turned their attention to the shaft. It was filled to within a few feet of the drift, and there was nothing to see, so they trans- ferred their attention to the waste heap. Rudie took a shovel and struck it deep into the loose mass of sandstone. Again and again he shoveled, and every shovelful showed broken fragments of rich quartz, with gold showing freely. He flung down the shovel, gasping with excitement. “Bonanza!” he whispered, and swal- lowed convulsively. ‘A second Com- stock!” His eyes traveled down to the lower edge of the dump, where the larger rock fragments had rolled as the buckets were emptied. ‘‘Look at that!’ he whis- pered. Among the ugly chunks of worth- less sandstone lay three or four jagged lumps of dirty gray quartz, plastered with gold. Beckel Smith came back. “He says it’s all right,” he said with childish joy. ‘‘He says that’s a good trade. My little bird likes Fool Ridge, same as I do.” ‘“* At-a-boy!”’ panted Rudie hoarsely, and slapped the old man on the back, laughing out of sheer exultation. ‘But say, listen, Beckel. We better go over to the eounty seat and have the exchange made all legal, see? We want you to be protected,”’ he explained virtuously, “‘so nobody can ever take Fool Ridge away from you, see?”’ ‘“‘Let’s start right now,” suggested old Beckel eagerly, ‘before my little bird gets a chance to change his mind.” ‘“*At-a-boy!’’ Rudie laughed again. But once more, as though flashed off by an elec- tric impulse, the eagerness left the old man’s face and he hesitated. ‘TJ forgot to tell you,” he said, watch- ing Rudie’s face with pathetic anxiety. ‘My little bird said I got to have Garbey Hill too. I know it’s askin’ a lot, but 2 “Sure! Sure!’’ Rudie shot a covert wink at Speck Brannan. “We'll throw Garbey Hill into the bargain.”’ But Beckel till hesitated. ‘You'll think I’m drivin’ a mighty close bargain,’’ he apologized, his eyes anxious. “But my little bird wanted Buckhorn Meadows too. I ain't got any idea what for, but that’s what he said. You see, I ain't hagglin’ with you. It’s my little bird.” It was Rudie’s turn to hesitate, for he not want to part with the cabin. But the rich rock smiled up at him from the waste dump—and besides, old Beckel Smith was beginning to remember things! Per- haps if they did not hurry the matter the old man might begin to remember too much. Rudie consented unconditionally and Beckel Smith fairly ran to saddle his horse. “But remember,” he told them, when they were ready to start, ‘“‘there ain’t a thing in that hole—not a thing. Nothing but fool’s gold. I’m bein’ honest with you.” “That’s all right, brother,’’ chuckled Rudie jovially. ‘‘We don’t care. Tell you the truth, we’re aimin’ to build a hotel here. We like the view.” They wasted no time in the county seat, but hurried directly back next day as soon “That's

THE SATURDAY as their business was transacted. Becke!l Smith stopped at the little lean-to only long enough to collect his meager belong- ings, then rode on up the creek to the cabin on Buckhorn Meadows. He was hardly a hundred yards away before the two men were at work —Rudie down in the hole, madly shoveling the heavy waste into the hoisting bucket, Brannan at the windlass straining and panting They were very tired, for they had walked all the way to the county seat and back. This time Beckel Smith had not offered to give up his saddle horse, but had ridden gayly ahead, listening for woodpeck- ers. But in spite of their weariness they stuck to the killing work until nearly mid- night, their frenzy inflamed by every glance at the rich fragments lying all about the shaft mouth. blistered and he wheezed like a leaky boiler as he wound up bucket after bucket of the fiendish stuff that Beckel Smith, led thereto by his woodpecker, had dumped down the hole from his drift higher up. Rudie dragged himself from his blankets at daybreak, cursed Brannan awake and they went at it again. All day they la- bored, sweating incredibly, their tortured muscles crying out in their agony over the unaccustomed toil. The day was nearly at an end when they reached the bottom. There was nothing at the bottom. The shaft ended as it began—in bleak, worth- less sandstone. Rudie could not believe his eyes. He stared at the hungry walls and scraped at the bottom with his shovel, sure that the thing could not be true. In the end he climbed painfully up the ladder and found Speck Brannan wilted down upon the waste heap, almost exhausted. “*Speck,”’ said Rudie slowly, a dim com- prehension of the truth dawning upon him, “‘we been stung.” “How?” “T don’t know. But somehow we been swindled. There ain’t anything in this hole. It’s all on the waste dump there, and whoever put it there done it to swindle us. Come on i ““Where you goin’?”’ asked Brannan as he got stiffly to his feet. “We're goin’ up to Buckhorn Meadows. I’m goin’ to get to the bottom of this. Maybe ole Beck knows about it and maybe he don’t. But anyway, we been double- crossed somehow, and I mean to make that old nut swap back or lay him out.” “Kid him first,’’ advised Brannan. “‘ Tell him it was all a mistake and that his little bird got fooied. Don’t forget them papers is on record, and the law will back him up. Kid him, Pel!” They did not knock when they reached the cabin, but pushed the door open and stepped inside. Old Beckel stood in the mid- dle of the room, the sleeves rolled high upon hisrawboned arms. Rudie wasted no words. ““We've come up to tell you there’s been a mistake, brother,”’ he said. ‘‘ Your littl bird gave you a wrong steer. I reckon we better trade back.” “You're a liar!”’ said Beckel Smith, and he did not talk like a crazy man. ‘My Srannan’s hands were soon

- “ After Four o'Clock, Matlards Come In for Corn With Entire Abandon— But Onty After Four! ‘He was raisin’ hell,” said Rudis H slipped round Bell's | rse, fo owe sick popeyed man and the two hurried away along the trail ‘But say, hold on!” Be was a} hearted man “You boys ain’t in rou come on Da c friend of Beck shape to travel. Say, | your cabin. I’m an old I'll see that he don’t hurt you no more The stricken men did not reply. Ar ment later a bend in the trail hid them ar they were gone. Tom Bell thoughtful rode on toward Buckhorn Meadows, mys tified and horribly troubled. Qld Beck: heard him coming and opened the door “That you, Tom?” Come in—come in! I got something t a8 os al how you that'll make your eyes bug out a

he asked cheerily foot.” Marveling more than ever, Tom Bell fo lowed Beckel into the cabin, stopping just inside the door to regard a scene of devas tation. Tables and chairs were smashed to The lamp had been overturned and the floor was littered with broken glass splashed with oil and spotted with blood One window had been knocked out bodily, sash and all. “Whatever happened, Beck?” asked Bell “We had a fight,” grinned Beckel Smit! “Sit down on the wood box, Tom, and I’ tell you all about it.” He thereupon recited the whole story beginning with that early morning at the rim of Rainbow Canyon, winding up wit an exposition of his plan to play crazy ar get Rudie to trade back. “And it worked!" he ended proud “It worked smooth and easy! Me and my little bird —we certainly landed them suck- ers good!" He threw back his head and laughed “Gosh-amighty, Tom, if you could have seen your face when I was lis tenin’ to my little bird!"’ He burst into an splinters other bellow of laughter and Tom Be grinned sheepish! “Ole pie-faced son of a gun!” he said uv ‘You scared me plumb silly and I ain't slept a wink since. You and your wood pecker! Beck, I ought to bust you in the eye is “Had to fool you too, Tom If you'd known I was merely playin’ crazy, they'd have seen it in your face left me that day I takin’ just one look at your face when you told about me would never doubt that I ] was as loco as a doodle bug.’ But after you knew that anybody

Bell had taken the chunk of gleaming rock in his huge hands and was regarding it with awe. “Beck,” he said solemnly, ‘ “We're rich!”’ Beckel corrected him, ‘When the transfer was drawed, why, I had the papers made you're ric h suddenly serious also out to you and me, joint Tom, old friends toc has had experience with one or two new } We "re pardners, And after a feller friends—like I’ve had—why, he appre ciates the old ones like hell.”’ Tom Bell realized the osity that lay back of Beckel Smith's act wonderful gener jut he did not grow effusive and assur« But his benefactor that he cert’ny was a prin It is not in the hillman to be demonstra tive. Beckel understood. He understood also, the thoughts that were passing in his old friend’s mind

*“* Besides,”’ he grinr ‘I need a pard ner bad. Somebody to take care of me like you prob’ly said to Rudie when come up to tell him about me. Yes, sir, | shorely need a pardner, me bein’ old and feeble in the head—especially a fight pardner.”’ Tom Bell looked slowly about th: wrecked room, taking in the splinters table, broken chairs and the scarred spattered with blood and strewn with th« flotsam of battle. From tl ruin his gaze came back to Beckel Smit} face and met the quizzical grin in his « i}

friend’s kindly “You shorely '’ he said burst into a be f re dn “You poor li'l’ old feeble garter snake All right; I'll take care of you, Beck.”

Page 150

148 hear the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST efore buying any Musical RUNSWICK PANATROPE Leopold Godowsky’s recordings will reveal the superb beauty of piano music reproduced by the Panatrope THE Great artifts of the New Hall of Fame —those whom the present-day public proclaims to be supreme Richard Bonelli Mario Chamlee Michael Bohnen Karin Branzell The Cleveland Orchestra Nikolai Sokoloff, Conductor Giuseppe Danise Claire Dux Florence Easton Elshuco Trio Leopold Godowsky Josef Hofmann Bronislaw Huberman Maria Ivogun Giacomo Lauri-Volp1 Edith Mason Lauritz Melchior Metropolitan Opera House Orchestra Gennaro Papi, Conductor Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra Henri Verbrugghen, Conductor Marie Morrisey Elly Ney New York Phitharmonic Orchestra Willem Mengelberg, Conductor Sigrid Onegin Elisabeth Rethberg Max Rosen Albert Spalding Richard Strauss John Charles Thomas Willem Willeke Friedrich Schorr these artists find in Brunswick's “Light Ray” electrical recording (music by photog- raphy) reproduced on the Brunswick Pana- trope the perfect medium for their art. —joint achievement of November 6, 1926 Radio Corporation of America General Electric Company Westinghouse Electric & Manufacturing Company The Brunswick-Balke-Collender Company the new eleGrical reproducing musical instrument which brings you the music of the new electrical records, and radio, with a beauty you have never known before. HE Brunswick Panatrope marks an epoch in the music-life of the world. It is the FIRST purely electrical repro- ducing musical instrument. Electrical reproduction of music means music as it really is. True to life—a musi- cal photograph! So overwhelmingly beyond anything the world has known is the music of the Panatrope that the first demonstration of this instrument in New York City was the news of the day in the papers the fol- lowing morning. Critics and laymen agreed that here was by all odds the most remarkable reproducing musical instru- ment they had ever heard. The Brunswick Panatrope brings you not only the music of the new electrical records but that of radio as well. It is obtainable either alone or combined in one beautiful cabinet with the Radiola Super-heterodyne. The Panatrope may also be used as the loud-speaker unit for your radio, with musical results equally as superior to what you are accustomed. This remarkable instrument operates entirely from the light socket; no batteries or outside wires needed. Until you hear the Brunswick Pana- trope you cannot realize the difference between its music and reproduced music as you have known it. It is merely exer- cising good judgment to refrain from buy- ing anything in the field of music or radio until you have heard and seen this remark- able invention. Otherwise what you buy today, no matter how wonderful it may seem, may fall obsolete tomorrow before this amazing instrument. Another triumph The Brunswick-Balke-Collender Company has also developed another musical in- strument, as yet unnamed*, for bringing out the music of the new records. In tone New Brunswick Records by the “Light-Ray” electrical method (music by photography) are now on sale every Thursday. BRUNSWICK-BALKE-COLLENDER CO., GENERAL OFFICES: 23 S$. WABASH AVE., CHICAGO

Page 151

THE quality and its ability to reproduce the en- tire musical scale, we believe this instru- ment represents a very great advance over anything in existence, except the Pana- trope. Brunswick’s new musical instru- ment dispenses with the electrical mecha- nism of the Panatrope, and its prices are lower, ranging from $115 to $300 (slightly higher west of Rockies). *$5,000 for a name To find a suitable name for the new Brunswick musical instrument we offer 3 prizes totaling $5,000 (first prize, $3,000; second prize, $1,500; third prize, $500) for the best name submitted together with an advertising slogan or phrase not exceed- ing 10 words describing its music. Contest closes December 15th at midnight. In PANATROPES =: PHONOGRAPHS BRUNSWICK-BALKE-COLLENDER event of a tie for any prize offered, a prize identical in all respects with that tied for will be awarded to each tying contestant. Write Dept. P-190 for free booklet de- scribing this contest. Or, ask your Bruns- wick dealer for a copy. It is not necessary to have the booklet in order to compete, but it may help you immensely. You can hear the Brunswick Panatrope, the Brunswick Panatrope & Radiola, and the new Brunswick instrument as yet un- named* at,any Brunswick dealer's. If there is no Brunswick dealer near you, write us. RECORDS - RADIOLAS :- CO., GENERAL THE SATURDAY EVENING POST trument or Radio OFFICES Radi yla ished in walnut Super-heterodyn¢ I Brunswick Panatrope & Radiola Equipped with either 6- or 8-tubse An amazing development m recording B old methods of recording, the energy te move the recording needle on a disc of soft wax i had to be developed by the actual sor waves entering a horn tably in the middle register, had more “ne ting energy’ than the entire musical scale. Furthermore, the artists had to be arranged awkward positions and to exaggerate their music By Brunswick's “Light-Ray” electrical method of recording (music by photography) a beam of light is reflected on a photo-electric cell a tiny ror weighing but 2-100th of a milligram The slightest sound causes this mirror to vibrate and the beam of light to vary as it plays on electric cell. Amplifiers “step-up and a recording mechanism registers them. Thus note is recorde every naturally, The artists form with perfect freedom We believe the “Light-Ray” electrical pro clusively Brunswick, makes records unequaled of tone, yet the Brunswick Panatrope play naturalne i all makes of records with the extraordinary 1 } } j Because some sounds, n others, it was impossible to reco the hot liancy and beauty characteristic of this instrumer 72. & WABASH AVE., ¢ HICAG®O > vibrations per t

Page 152

150 THE SATURDAY ‘Richest in CHOCOLATE” There are Two distinct tastes for milk chocolate --. VERYBODY likes milk chocolate—but there are two distinct tastes. Some prefer a rich chocolate flavor—others a smooth, creamy blend. For the full chocolate taste— get Peter’s, richest in chocolate. The original milk chocolate blend, it has been a favorite for over fifty years. For the milder, creamier flavor—get Nestle’s, richest in cream. Both Peter’s and Nestle’s are made by the world’s oldest manufacturers of milk chocolate —Peter-Cailler-Kohler Swiss Chocolates Co., Inc., Fulton, N. Y. 7 ry ry Both come in 5¢ and 10¢ bars—plain and almond or the new convenient 5¢ croquette packages “Richest in CREAM” EVENING POST November 6, 1926 WORKING FOR THE TICKET (Continued from Page 35) combined wonder and amusement toward the voters, at whom are aimed all those great expenditures of energy and money which constitute political campaigns. Although the two types of campaign general and primary—are similar in essen- tials, each has, to the campaigner, a difier- ent appeal and demands a different technic. This is particularly true in those states which are predominantly one-sided in their national politics—where nomination really means election. For the nearest approach to efficiency and smooth operation I'd select the former. For blazing excitement, for the thrill of the unexpected, for rapid inter- mingling of purple patches and drab dis- couragements, give me the latter. It is easy to see why they should differ. The general campaign deals usually with a clear-cut issue between the two great national par- ties, on which the majority of voters have made up their minds. The machinery through which it functions is assembled and waiting. The national, the state and the county committees of the parties are organized, experienced and ready. The officials need only lumber into action a few | months before election time and repeat a | program which they have performed many times before. In the average primary campaign, how- ever, the machinery must be hastily thrown together, the issue, such as it is, adopted and popularized, the officials selected, often from among the politically inexperienced. More and more in the United States is growing a realization that the primary is the really important election. In it are decided two significant things—who will be the candidates, and who will be the party leader—‘‘The Boss,”’ as he was once known. And of these two, as American politics are constituted today, the latter question is perhaps the more important. That’s why many primary battles are so bitter, so unscrupulous, so costly. Consider the involved, the expensive, the frantic process of putting a primary candidate across for one of the big offices United States senator, governor, mayor of a big city, or the like. Three essentials are required—organizatiogp, cash and an issue. All these are already at hand before any general campaign starts; all must be ac- quired in a primary, and acquired quickly. A candidate, of course, is always available. He may represent one of several types. He may be a business or professional man, short on political experience but long on am- bition. He may be a minor office holder aspiring to higher place. He may be the incumbent seeking renomination. In the latter event he cannot call on the machin- ery of his party to help him, for the state organization doesn’t take part in primary campaigns ostensibly. Its work begins after the candidate has been selected by the people and tagged with the party label. The Political General We'll follow first the amateur in politics. He it is who takes the hardest punishment. Of course he doesn’t start out entirely on his own. Somewhere a group of men, per- haps a disaffected faction of the party in control, perhaps a business, professional, fraternal or improvement organization with which he is associated, suggests the idea and promises support. This has been done, however, only after certain politi- cally minded members of the group have assured themselves of certain qualifications. “Is he a vote getter? Can his personal record stand up under the rigid scrutiny of the opposition? Are his principles satisfac- tory? Is his experience sufficient? How will he appeal to the various groups racial, religious, social, labor? Will he be reasonable in the patronage at his dis- posal?’’ Such are the questions they put to him, to his associates, to themselves. Either alone or with the backing of a group, the candidate may then prepare for action. His first step is to raid the personal bank account for as many thousands of dollars as it can spare. His second is to select a campaign manager. This is un- doubtedly the most important move in the entire campaign. Everything depends on the manager. Not once or twice, but a dozen times a day may his decisions make or break the candidate. He should be po- litically experienced, politically wise. Gen- erally he is. During the recent hearings on primary campaign expenditures at Wash- ington, the manager of one successful sena- torial candidate was called on to testify after his employer had left the stand. He made a profound impression on the in- quisitors. “‘They wondered,’’ wrote, in ef- fect, one correspondent, “‘why the manager hadn’t run for the office himself.”’ The campaign manager must know peo- ple as well as facts. He must have the gift of conciliating differences between warring factions and individuals, of dragging re- luctant workers into a cause, of whipping average interest into the white-hot flame of enthusiasm, of sensing public opinion and swinging in line with it. He must be at times a diplomat, at times an inflexible judge. Seldom is he a professionali campaigner More often he is a lawyer with political leanings, or an officeholder of the type of county prosecutor, who knows the seamy as well as the bright side of his community. I recall one such man who was urged on a prospective candidate as campaign man- ager. “*He’s got enough on the leaders of the opposition to put them all in jail,’ was his most ardent advocate’s recommendation. A Citizen's Duty After deciding on a campaign manager or chairman, the candidate selects the vice chairman, invariably a woman. Then he chooses his treasurer and a publicity di- rector. These four may quietly establish an office, with perhaps a skeleton organization of clerks. During the first few weeks little is done apart from the drawing of plans. The treasurer, who is to assume tremendous importance later, remains in the back- ground. Suddenly, however, he blossoms into im- portance. Perhaps it happens much in this way: An influential man in the vicinity, a friend of the candidate, gives a dinner. To it are invited an interesting group of guests. There will be the candidate, the campaign manager and the treasurer. There will be an eminent merchant, an eminent manufacturer, an eminent clergyman, an eminent educator and others of like stand- ing. Over the oysters and thin soup the conversation is pleasant, easy, inconse- quential. Over the roast more important matters are discussed—the public affairs of the community, the errors of the adminis- tration, the character of the men in office, the atrocious business management at city hall or the state house. Over the salad all are convinced that a business administra- tion is demanded, that the rascals should be turned out. Over the coffee and cigars the name of the prospective candidate is mentioned—no one recalls just how, if the host is adroit enough. And no one remem- bers just who said he’d make an excellent head for a new ticket, but unanimously they agree he would. Now with men of affairs such as these it is only natural that ways and means should be next discussed. Money will be needed. Why not start a war chest now? There should be a treasurer. The name of the candidate’s selection comes forward. Excellent, agree the guests. Isn’t he a banker of high standing? Then come pledges of support— political, business and financial. Sometimes checks are written on the spot. These are deliberately held to Continued on Page 153)

Page 153

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MANSF dersell, but E — to Overserve Built — Not tg The Returns Are Coming In UST as there are many offices to be filled to which candidates are elected— So also there are many cars on which tires must be renewed for which one kind of tire must be se- lected from all the candidate tires. And just as most voters try to se- lect the best candidate on his record, sO most car owners try to select the best tire on its record. It is on the basis of their record that Mansfield Tires are largely bought and put into their service by car owners. Where the Mansfield record is known, the vote is a landslide for Mansfield. Mansfield sales steadily increase at a much faster rate than the num- ber of motor cars increases—more and more car owners know the Mansfield record, elect them and re-elect them on their record. The thousands of extra trouble- free miles that Mansfields so regu- larly deliver, is the direct result of the lowest cost of tire distribution effected by the great Hardware Wholesalers in the country. The saving on distribution goes into the tires to make them deliver their longer service at record low cost per mile. They cost no more money, but the record stands that they do de- liver more miles. THE MANSFIELD TIRE @& RUBBER COMPANY, MANSFIELD, OHIO Balloon Cords Truck Cords Heavy Duty Cords Regular Cords Fabric Tires The Cost of Distribution is Lower — The Standard of Quality i Elected on a good record S H l gher

Page 154

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 Wet Rubber Slips . WEED Chains yt ke There can be no compromise with safety Weed Chain Week November 15th to 20th ' PFs $e You will see Weed Chain signs in good garages > . % ya and automobile accessory stores the week of ; Pie ince November 15th to 20th, reminding you to buy apn AL hw 5 Weed Chains for safety and traction in bad hates” weather ¢riving. © Hin i WEEDS have been standard for 23 oak: Look “ for the red connecting hook and the name WEED oo tM : stamped on every cross chain hook. If you ae te already have them in your catléok them _ ‘ over. Weed cross chains when Worn.are ; easily replaced by new ones sold by good “ r garages and automobile accessory stores . - ' everywhere, ‘ gs AMERICA * Crame COMPANY, box 9 eases ter your safety Cece!

Page 155

Continued from Page 150 small amounts by the host and the candi- date, for at this time they are less con- cerned with getting money than with gain- ingsupport. They realize that the heart will trail the dollars, however few; that when men such as these are interested, others will follow; that larger contributions will pour in during the heat of the campaign. In the midst of the general discussion the guests are probably delighted to realize that included in their little group are men really representative of all the important elements in the city. The candidate, the campaign manager and the host, who spent many anxious hours preparing that invita- tion list, say nothing of this. Instead, they talk quietly, confidentially, earnestly of the great good that will come to the party, as well as to the city and commonwealth as a result of this evening's pleasant little func- tion. Finally, then, the guests depart, aglow with that pleasant feeling of a high duty well done. That is, of course, only one of many pos- sible ways in which influential support may be assured before the candidate comes out into the open. He may, instead, dicker either directly or through common friends with the leader of a powerful faction. But he can do little alone. He must count on a nucleus of prearranged support around which his organization is to be developed. After this support is assured, by such methods as I have described or others, the campaign may open with a crash. The manager, the treasurer, the publicity man gaze clear-eyed at the jobs before them. They must arouse the enthusiasm of sup- porters by effective build-ups of the candi- date and the cause; they must corral the so-called independent vote; they must win over workers and voters from the opposi- tion. To achieve these things organization, money and propaganda are necessary. After the required papers are filed each man turns to his separate task. The campaign manager builds his or- ganization on the same general lines as have the two big parties before him. There is a central committee at headquarters with the manager directing in the same capacity as the state chairman. There are county committees and city committees, duplicat- ing the central body, each with a political veteran as chairman and a woman as vice chairman, each with a local treasurer, and sometimes a local publicity director. A Man of the People At headquarters the work is assigned to committees. There are many of these. All have long lists of members whose names are printed on the campaign stationery. That puts emphasis on the eminence of the men and women supporting the candidate and recognizes tactfully the perfectly natural vanity which even the most prominent feel when their names occur in connection with public affairs. There is a finance commit- tee, a speakers’ bureau, a committee on publicity. The finance committee, under the direction of the treasurer, communi- cates with persons and organizations which will contribute funds; the speakers’ bureau arranges for spellbinders and directs the mass meetings and rallies; the publicity bureau prepares canned copy for the city newspapers and plate matter for the county weeklies, writes the party pamphlets, dis- tributes buttons, banners, balloons and other devices bearing the name of the candidate, and buys advertising space. In the earlier stages of the campaign it is per- haps the heaviest spender. Later, a week or two before election day, the cost of bringing out the vote by more direct methods fre- quently robs it of that distinction. Along with organization runs the work of popularizing the candidate and the issue generally in the order named. If the can- didate is a vote getter, the desideratum ultimum in all campaigns, the task is not so difficult. He is put on the stump wherever possible. If his manner and appearance ar‘ not particularly prepossessing the build-up THE SATURDAY is accomplished largely through the pamphlet. When the morning of election day dawns every interested voter may, if he wants to, know more about the head of the ticket than he does about his own relatives. The pamphlets, scattered broadcast through the state, have told where the candidate was born, where educated, whom he mar- ried, his record in business and in politics, the church he attends, the nicknames of his children, what he thinks about prohibition, the tariff, the party in power, honesty as a recognized policy, and kindred topics Many pamphlets, of course, deal with is- sues and platforms, but the great majority of them are biographical in nature. They follow a proved formula. The little red schoolhouse, the poor and worthy parents, the bitter struggle for education and posi- tion in accordance with the best American tradition, the unswerving, self-sacrificing loyalty to public interest—all these are played fortissimo. If, by chance, the can- didate cut his teeth on silver, if he was edu- cated in private schools or abroad, then those phases of the composition are soft pedaled. If by rare luck a farm motif can be fitted into the general theme it is put over with the grand crash. Volunteer Orators Naturally the glorification of the candi- date is supplemented in the press. His ad- dresses are prepared days in advance, marked with a release date, and sent to the newspapers. If other news crowds them out on the following morning they are re- vamped into statements and sent forth a few days later, preferably for a Sunday or Monday edition, when space is more avail- able. The welkin ringers from the speakers’ bureau are supplied with human-interest stories concerning the head of the ticket. He poses for photographs—always full-face pictures, gazing into the lens of the camera. That gives the impression of a friendly, fearless champion—‘‘a man who looks you straight in the eye.’”’ The photographs are reproduced as posters, on films for the screen, on small cards to be displayed in the windows of homes. The curbstone orator is the man who talks volubly at any pretext on corners, in hotel lobbies or in the Main Street drug store. Experienced politicians know a rather curious truth concerning him. It is that when he praises a candidate he gath- ers a bored audience of perhaps two or three scoffers, but when he criticizes, however untruthfully, he gathers a large and credu- lous gallery. Let him disclaim in this strain: ‘“‘And what, my friends, did this here candidate say when they told him that the wives and children of the war veterans was starvin’? These is his very words. He says, ‘Leave’em starve. The war's over, ain’t it?’’’—and there is standing room only on the particular street corner which he graces. Now the campaign manager knows that a dramatic and pungent lie like that can never be successfully fought down. There- fore, when such a small-time orator eases up gently to suggest that he wants to do a little work for the ticket, he is fairly certain of departing five or ten dollars richer. The astute leader doesn’t expect him to do any work for the ticket. He is paying him, and both the leader and the orator know it, to refrain from doing any work against the ticket: As the campaign progresses, other callers, burning with enthusiasm for the ticket, drop in on the campaign manager. Many are volunteers who want to do something but don’t know just what. Many more want pay in one form or other. As a gen- eral rule one paid worker ig worth several volunteers, although there are exceptions. From the candidate down, self-interest rules in politics as elsewhere I recall an interesting example of this A brusque and businesslike stranger called on us one day with a plan for the campaign To our surprise it was an excellent one, so good, in fact, that we adopted parts of it EVENING POST 153 Boo k:Oadillac SC ETR OVW T Where there’s Ret at Journey’s End They say that there's a kind of restfulness to be found in the Book-Cadillac Hotel like to that of a pleasant home. You prob- ably have found that true, you probably have found that from the west doorway up the great staircase, down the long lobby, into the elevators and up to your room there’s a something, an atmosphere of test- fulness. You've felt that this was home. ry If you haven't stayed here yet, we welcome you. You will find a colorful, cheerful hotel with five dining rooms, some with and some without music. There are 200 rooms all above the seventh floor, quiet, all are outside, light and airy, all have bath. 560 of them are priced at $4 and $5 a day. The beds are the softest, the sleepiest that we could find. When you come,we'll do our utmost to make your stay with us memorable, unforget- table. They say that it is like a pleasant home. iP THE BOOK-CADILLAC HOTEL COMPANY / ity, r DETROIT } elle hs o Sy] Roy Carruthers, Pr jt Ee ir, // To « nee me ich guest as he pays his bill is g receipt 1 at ed is an insurance policy valid for 48 hour It is a : ee ion of Book-Cadillac rvice to sec you ) afc } ; itv: $s n case of accidental death; $2 for I fz of limb; and $2 weekly for wholly j S 3 ii od | pn f iss} | i ae Pere, “ / ee ,

Page 156

154 and put them into immediate operation. To our greater surprise, he asked nothing for his ideas—-simply wanted, he said, to help the ticket. A week later he called on us again to ask how the plan had worked out. We showed him the results. Then we learned what was behind it all. He wanted a letter of intro- duction.and commendation from our can- didate, addressed to a big business man. ““T’ve been trying to swing him on a big sale,"’ said our visitor, ‘‘but I’ve never quite succeeded. He’s one of the big contribu- tors to your campaign and a personal friend of the candidate. If you can get me the letter saying I’ve been of some assistance t will help me.”’ I learned later that with our letter he put the deal across. County leaders swing in for the same reason. I have in mind one such man who spent weeks on a canvass in his own dis- trict, then drifted in to promise his support. We told him he was rather late in making a decision. “‘T know it,”” he said, “but it’s going to be a hot fight and I want to be on the safe side. I spent two thousand dollars to find out- that this was it.” in almost every primary campaign a cer- tain number of the paid workers come over from the opposition. For some reason it is not considered wicked to buy a few of the enemy’s hired hands. It is considered grossly immoral, however, for the hired hand to double;cross you after he is bought. Why the code varies so illogically I don’t know. The worker guilty of double-crossing is technically known as a “ cheater.”’ Women workers cheat less frequently than the men. Until recently the majority f them were volunteers, but since wide publicity has been given to campaign ex- penditures many have learned to demand pay for their services. Practical workers make only two complaints about the femi- nine campaigner—first that she talks too much and, second, that she loves to put on the high hat. Both habits may be danger- ous. I recall only one instance where a woman worker talked enough to kill a rather good plan. She had been in a con- ference where a novel feature of campaign- ing was discussed. Later she spoke of it to another worker, a dear friend, and asked her opinion. The friend thought the plan was bad. She in turn told several other people that a great mistake was to be made, and in thirty minutes the world knew about it. The dear friend hadn’t meant to broad- cast any secret. She had simply wanted to let other friends know how greatly she was helping the ticket. A Spatless Victory Job holders are, of course, the best work- ers, because they function under the disci- pline of local leaders; often their jobs depend on it. To them parties are not the organized public opinions that Disraeli be- lieved them, but organized employment agencies whose chief duties consist of find- ing jobs for the faithful. They work and vote, not to ‘shake the turrets of the land”’ but to shake the plum tree of the leaders. Such is the power of patronage! Of the volunteer workers many want to go out on the stump. These are turned over to the speakers’ bureau. I know of no feature of campaigning more interesting than the direction of that committee. Never is there a shortage of spellbinders. When a campaign opens, hundreds of men and women alike admit that there is much to be said on both sides, and prepare to say it. They come from all groups—ambitious young lawyers, retired business men feeling the first urge for self-expression, club women who want to try their platform presence on larger audiences. In the general campaigns national headquarters is always willing to assign a prominent and silver-tongued sen- ator. or congressman when the situation demands him. With the exception of those experienced in politics, all speakers must be closely watched, not for their utterances alone, but for appearance and manner and sympathetic attitude toward the audience. THE SATURDAY The crowds judge the ticket largely by its public speakers. It is they who supply the personal touch. Therefore the director of the speakers’ bureau tries to see that the audience likes the orator. I remember one experience with a speaker who was himself a candidate. We'll cali him Mr. Norman Blood—although that wasn’t his name— for he was a member of an old and honored family, a man of rare social attainments and a careful and meticulous dresser. On this occasion he was assigned to speak, with several others, at a small town to which I shall refer as Factoryville. Those who heard him reported later that he did ex- ceptionally well. After the meeting he was introduced by local workers to all the leading men of the community. The following day Mr. Blood burst into our state office with a glad cry of triumph. As a result of his speech, he told us, he had received from the business men of Factory- ville not only a promise of support but con- tributions to the party war chest totaling some ten thousand dollars. The veteran who at that time directed both the publicity and the speakers’ bureau at our headquarters heard this pzan of vic- tory in dour silence. Our joyous candidate noticed it, and suddenly his enthusiasm fell away from him as might a sack coat when the clock struck six. “You don’t seem greatly concerned,”’ he said, with the wounded dignity that only the amateur in politics dare show. “I am concerned, Mr. Blood—greatly concerned,’’ replied our hard-e;ed veteran; ‘but not over the contribution. What Iam concerned about is a telegram I have re- ceived from the county leader complaining EVENING POST that you walked down the main street of Factoryville with spats on your feet. That will cost us more votes than your ten thou- sand dollars can ever regain.” The veteran was exaggerating, of course, but he put the idea over so effectively that our perfectly turned out candidate ran close to the head of the ticket in a spatless victory when the final vote was computed. I recall another frantic wire from a rural leader demanding the recall of the best of our feminine speakers. She was one of the many wealthy and cultured women who take an active part in most campaigns these days, and had made an excellent record at local meetings. Therefore we asked for rea- sons. We learned in the reply that she had made the mistake of traveling through sev- eral farm counties in a motor car obviously of foreign and expensive make, driven by a uniformed French chauffeur. That was serious, and we knew it. By happy chance her nephew, an undergraduate at a local university, was loafing around headquarters when the call arrived. He volunteered to cut classes long enough to drive her over the remainder of the tour in his own flivver. That sounded like a real idea, so we sent him forth. But before twenty-four hours had passed the county leader was sputter- ing to us over long-distance telephone again—the telegraph, he felt, was too slow to carry his urgent protest. He told us that the sophomore had appeared promptly, and was carrying our speaker around the coun- try in a car blazoned fore and aft with the typically callow and sometimes faintly sug- gestive wise cracks which delight some col- lege boys but scandalize their elders. We wired him to replace the labels with party Old Town Old Timers RAWN BY ART YOUN The Vittage Grouch. Our Village Grouch Never Tatked Very Much. Ifa Passer-by Said ‘‘Good Morning’’ to Him He Would Sometimes Turn Around and Reply: “‘How Are Ye?"’ But It Was an Effort. What He Could Say However at Any Time Was: ‘“‘Hangin's Too Good fer Some Folks in This Town"’ November 6, 1926 slogans, and the pair finished their tour in a blaze of glory. Possibly the most numerous of unofficial visitors to campaign headquarters are the amateur reformers who drop in to tell the committee what is the matter with its can- didate. Oddly enough, they seldom discuss the issue. Personality is what holds their interest. After several years of unnecessary suffering from this type of adviser I devel- oped what proved to be a most effective defense. I let him talk for a few moments, then put several questions. “Who,” I asked, “is your present con- gressman?’’ Nine times out of ten, if he was a resident of a big city including sev- eral congressional districts, he didn’t know. “Who,” I asked next, ‘‘is your city council- man? Who represents your community on the state committee? Who represents it on the city committee? Who is your party ward leader? Whois your precinct leader?”’ He didn’t know. So few of them do! Where the Interest Lies But I hadn’t finished. ‘“‘You should know,”’ I suggested mildly. ‘‘ Your pre- cinct leader lives within a few blocks of you. Your ward leader doesn’t live much farther away. Neither does your council- man. These men exercise a most powerful influence on the government of your com- munity. They, in the last analysis, decide who shall be the candidates for offices charged with the administration of city and state government, with the fixing of taxes, with improvements which affect your property. But if you don’t know even the names of these men who live in your own neighborhood, how can you know any- thing worth listening to about our candi- date for senator or governor, who lives in an altogether different part of the state?” Then I watched the aristocratic neck swell purple under its snow-white collar as that eminent citizen went forth to de- nounce me as a politician, than which epithet he knew none more damning. As a matter of fact, none of my questions was unfair. Even a congenital reformer should know the answers. You might try the system yourself, sometime, on one of the high-minded and oracular citizens that every community boasts. Ask your doctor, or your minister, or the teller in your bank, and see how many of the men intimately influencing the affairs of your own com- munity he knows by name. But don’t try it on your milkman, or the day worker who mows your lawn! He'll probably know. That’s why the desires of such men are bet- ter reflected in government than the ideas of the so-called best minds. They, like the farmers, have a real interest in public af- fairs, in as much as they know personally the men who control them locally. The average professional man or office worker, on the contrary, thinks of government only a few days before election and then is in- clined to speak with an unwarranted air of authority on issues and personalities which affect him far less intimately than those he ignores on his own doorstep. As I have pointed out, the individual voter is interested chiefly in the personality of the candidate. The groups and organiza- tions which dabble in politics are more likely to be concerned in the issue. There- fore every candidate running in a primary takes an issue unto himself. Seldom does he create it; he adopts it instead. He or his managers sense an attitude of the public, study it a while, weigh the voting value of the groups which favor or oppose it, and if it looks good, they grab it as their own. Sometimes there is a close race between rival candidates to be first to adopt what looks like a good issue, and with it, the or- ganized support it assures. Of the three requirements for success in the primary organization, cash and an issue—the last, in the opinion of many campaigners, lags far in the rear. In general campaigns iv is, of course, important—-it represents the platform of the national party. In the pri- mary it is too often merely a stepladder. (Continued on Page 158) OS

Page 157

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST fo PRODUCERS OF EDUCATIONAL FILMS | ‘helpsAlms / M The Philad - hiladelpn Be | Philadelphia’ lag rage B Gentlemen to t Ar their laurele at thi ye 8 event Akeley, wi Thi This camera was rea ' —_ years experimental work ork, At first n nere out tome these batteries be a ordeal and enabled Ph ar and Bteady as ever were Phelpsfi} ppr bpm, 86eistea in the ope ifficult &8signment ete Congratulations! Paw Lys , - . PR General Manager,

Luckily, Mr. Phelps had Philcos! No matter what you demand of a storage battery—to run a radio, drive a mine locomotive, start a cold, oil-stiffened motor in winter or to supply steady unfailing power in a pouring rain for taking moving pictures of a championship fight—you can pin your faith on a Philco Drynamic. shipped DRY but CHARGED. The life doesn't start until the dealer pours in the acid—just before Philco Drynamic Batteries have the tremendous surplus power, over-size capac installing the Uottery in your car. Ack tar Peles ity and rugged shock-proof construction needed to safeguard you against battery Capmany oe the acne powed in—end yee a . . _ “ can ee a sta a er failure. Also to insure you of long, economical battery service. RADIO OWNERS: You can run any radio from your house current Just connect a Philco Socket Power AB unit to your radio— plug it permanent/y f No wonder thousands upon thousands of motorists—as a protection against hand-cranking experiences—are installing Phileo Drynamic Batteries in their cars! ica "A 'ant “h” bamatn Dicmamoendomin te -no hum—ne —no more dry batteries » replace est Philco Dealer Even with the famous Diamond Grid Plates, Philco Retainers and a TWO-YEAR Pood fi ptersecionge He written guarantee—the longest and strongest guarantee ever placed on a ite us for details of our Easy Payment Plan nationally-known battery—a Philco Drynamic costs no more to buy than an ordinary battery. Philadelphia Storage Battery Company, Philadelphia — <9 ri Fa Automobile Industrial Tractors : Auxiliary Power FP Radio Farm Lighting Passenger Cars Marine iw ww Electric Truck Mine Locomotives Isolated Plant Philco equipped buses carried 44,702 fight fans to the Stadium.

Page 158

156 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST eYONORA'S [win Contributions ‘The New “Reproducing Sonora Critics agree that this new Sonora achievement is the outstanding triumph in the new field of music reproduc- tion. All the rich tone-color, warmth and magic of living music itself. A remarkable instrument that gives Sonora’s world-famous tone fu/l range of the entire musical register. Exquisite in design and finish. At $95— The PRELUDE —greatest value in qual- tty phonographs today a genuine New Repro- ducing Sonora, with the perfected Sonora tone that gives new beauty to phonograph Mm SiC. Cabinetwork of typical Sonora quality. At $125—The CONCERT— another model of the New Repro- ducing Sonora. Rich simplicity of design to harmonize in any setting A real treat in the reproduction of any type of musi AT $275 »- SONORA’S GREATER PHONOGRAPH - THE SYMPHONY RESCENDO of the full symphony — Limpid, flowing solo melody—Softest whispers from muted violins — Here at last is full musical justice for them all—in the New Sonora. For a remarkable method of reproduction perfected by Sonora has added to the renowned Sonora tone new volume, range, and artistic completeness. Hearing is believing! Ask your dealer to demonstrate the New Reproducing Sonora. And as you listen, note that Sonora cabinet craftsmen have produced new masterpieces of design and finish! CLE AR é\ November 6, 1926 Ss

Page 159

2 ~ ~ _ Soe wnt ee Pe it pi. -—_ oe to Lovers of CMlusic « - THE SATURDAY EVENING POST m 8 ‘The New M4 = Shielded Six “Radio Produces, we believe, a rich depth and purity of tone never before heard in Radio. A six-tube set completely shielded against interference. New improved Twin Unit Control combines single-dial convenience with double-dial distance. Typical Sonora cabinet beauty. AT $185 - THE “1927” STANDARD RADIO CONSOLE ete HEN Radio enthusiasm swung away from mere tuning: in and demanded clearer, truer reception, Sonora made a big contribution. The world-famous Sonora achievements in music reproduction were successfully adapted to Radio. Now, in the new Shielded Six, Sonora presents a receiving set that puts Radio on a still higher plane of perfection. Not only does this great set improve and combine every latest technical convenience, but it produces a rich depth and mellowness of tone never before heard in Radio music. And we honestly believe that it is the most beautiful radio you can buy today. The new SONORA RADIO CONI SPEAKER. Aftaches to any radio set—no extra batteries needed $25. Consele model —with space for batteries—$50. The Cone Speaker is built into the Sonora Shielded Six Console Radio shown above Your dealer shares this opinion! Ask him for a demonstration. S Sonora’s new SHIELDED SIX RADIO is available as a straight set, at $125, or in your choice of Console models priced up to $225.

Page 160

Continued from Page 154 The fight for a popular issue, often tor- tured into a silly slogan, is only one of the many examples of bitterness and self- interest which mark so many primary campaigns. Even after the election the back lash from those battles is felt in the general campaign. Probably the hardest work of a state chairman lies in healing the ragic wounds inflicted on the party in the eat and scramble for nomination in direct- primary elections. It is easy to see why this should be. An open primary campaign is not always a fight between just two men for party nomi- nation. Often it is a general scramble, par- ticipated in by thousands of prospective candidates, all ostensibly members of the same party, to gain control of that party and of what plums it may scatter. In one recent state primary campaign more than four thousand prospective candidates were n the field. They included men reaching desperately for nomination for the United States Senate, for the governor's chair, for certain elective state-cabinet offices, for county offices, for places of power on com- mittees. The majority of them weren’t fighting for the office itself but only for a chance to run for the office on the party ticket. If they won, sometimes at the cost of terrible physical and mental strain, of great sums of money, of compromises which they might under other conditions have scorned, they faced the comforting fact that the whole thing had to be done all over again when the general election was held several months later. Seldom, when the candidates are finally chosen at the primary election, do all the members of one faction find themselves on the general ticket. Nevertheless, they must be made to appear the traditional band of brothers. A gubernatorial candi- date and a senatorial candidate of different factions may lead the general ticket to- gether. A few weeks before, they were con- demning each other as menaces not only to the party but to the entire commonwea!th. in the general campaign each must praise the other as the hope of the nation. They do it, but sometimes with their fingers crossed. Their friends and supporters of primary days do not let them forget old suspicions. They cast wary eyes on the party campaign director, on the publicity man, on others working for the ticket, to guard against last-minute trickery. When everything is finally working smoothly some inspired idiot is certain to start a dis- cussion inside the party as to which of its chief candidates will poll the greatest num- ber of votes, and thus arouse old rivalries. t \ \ t The Direct Primary Recently it has become common for many public men to wonder openly whether the direct primary has accomplished all that was hoped for it in making the political atmosphere sweeter and purer. I do not know the answer, but I know that it has, in many states, engendered bitterness within the party that would have challenged the abilities of the Great Conciliator himself to heal. It has put many public figures in inconsistent positions; it has robbed the big parties of some of their strongest sup- porters; it has frightened other able men from the thought of ever seeking public office; it has made campaign directors gray before their time. Possibly the convention system fostered worse evils. It did have, however, the virtue of consistency. A convention chose not only a candidate but a platform, and the party nominee ran on the platform thus chosen. As the open primary has developed, each aspirant for nomination may announce his own platform, regardless of how it will harmonize later with the party platform. He may, if he wants to, run either as a wet or a dry, as a free trader or a high-tariff advocate. There is no reason why a candi- date for nomination by either party cannot run on an anti-Darwin platform if he thinks it wiil get him something I've often wondered why more of them didn’t. THE SATURDAY Some day one of these lynx-eared listen- ers to the Vox Populi is going to hear that gentlemen prefer blondes, and run with that slogan as a burning issue “‘indorsed by the better elements.”” What matter if the party whose nomination he wins ignores the question in its general platform? He’s on the ticket, isn’t he? And the public, like the blonde, soon forgets! I discussed these phases not long ago with a man who has held high office in nation and state, and whose experience includes both the old and the modern type of primary. He felt much as I do. Guerilla Warfare ‘“‘Suppose,”’ he said to me, ‘“‘that an ir- responsible candidate wins, as many do, the party nomination for the United States Senate by the adroit use of a spectacular and individual slogan, and is subsequently elected. Then suppose that the party meets in national convention, refuses to adopt the planks on which he was nomi- nated, and announces, perhaps, an oppo- site policy. The new senator is accounted a party member, but he must now either vote against his party on the issues in ques- tion or else burn the planks on which he walked into office. If enough senators are in this predicament as a result of their un- restrained individualism in the primary, it means, of course, the end of party re- sponsibility and party efficiency. The type of man who wants to be conspicuous and to play a lone hand rejoices in this result. Though, however, a political party can afford to carry a few players of this sort on the squad, the multiplication of them ulti- mately means the defeat of the team. And they are multiplying rapidly. “One of the results of this is that many candidates, each with a state-wide cam- paign to carry on, will make great and un- wholesome expenditures of money. It is not so much a question of corruption as of sordid polities. When everybody expects to be paid for work which he ought to do for nothing, minutemen soon become mercen- aries. In that event a candidate with a big bank account can organize and finance his own army, even if there is no consider- able group of citizens who think enough of him to contribute to his fund. Bad as it is to have a candidate’s admirers waste money in his interest, it is far worse for a candidate without responsible backers to be able to secure the party nomination by the expenditure of his own funds. “Now the satisfactory regulation by law of primary expenses is a difficult matter, because by its very nature the primary system is an expensive system. It costs money to get information across. Where there are millions of voters, a single well- written form letter addressed and mailed to each voter would cost not thousands but hundreds of thousands of dollars. “If a state-wide office is in question, al- most any experienced man thinks twice EVENING POST nowadays before he decides to seek it. If he already holds the office he must be pre- pared for a triple strain. The combined work of the office, of the primary, and of the general election is enough to break many a back. The nervous strain of a primary campaign is most severe. In the general election the struggle is between responsible parties and the rules of civilized warfare are to some extent observed. In a primary campaign an irresponsible and abusive candidate, with a like-minded group about him, may easily assassinate character and inflict a lasting injury on a worthy adver- sary. It is like bankrupt competition in business— impossible to meet without ruin. Many a man quite ready to serve his coun- try on the field of battle may hesitate to engage in a guerilla warfare merely to be- come a target for asavage enemy. It is the inherent lawlessness of a primary cam- paign which makes it bitter, confusing, ex- pensive and nerve racking.” As the campaign progresses, the work is intensified. Everything is thrown into the fight. The check book supplants the pam- phlet as campaign literature. Money is sup- plied in increasing amounts to the leaders. By them it is passed out in turn to town- ship and precinct workers in country and city. In the rural districts much is spent on automobile hire. Many veterans believe this method cannot be overdone. It has two advantages: First, it increases the efficiency of active, personal canvassing; second, it offers opportunity to pay a doubt- ful voter five or ten dollars for the use of his car and thus win him over. Inthe cities the five and ten dollar bills may go to watchers at the polls. Ina close and well- financed campaign they are legion. Many such watchers become in reality doorbell pullers—that is, men and women who go to the various homes to hustle up more votes. In a large city a precinct with a reg- istration of less than five hundred voters may, ina hard fight, have as many as fifty watchers assigned at ten dollars a day. It was to the leader of such a city that a visiting rural worker once exclaimed admir- ably, ‘“‘Shucks, you don’t have to count your ballots here. You can just weigh them!” A Day of Excitement While the campaign manager in these final weeks labors feverishly with his city and county leaders, tightening the organi- zation, smoothing out internal strife and jealousies, urging all the workers to in- crease effort, the speakers’ bureau and the publicity committee redouble their activi- ties. The loudest welkin ringers are sent to doubtful districts, great advertisements are prepared for the newspapers, the candidate is rushed from hall to hall, from county to county, to greet and arouse the voters. His picture is flashed on the movie screens; his voice thunders over the radio. Finally, after months of work and worry, of sudden disappointments, of favorable Sunset on Kona Coast, Istand of Hawaii November 6,1926 and equally unexpected breaks, comes elec- tion day. Campaign headquarters is sud- denly the most important place in all the state. Into it pour the newspaper men, the leaders, if they dare leave their districts, the heavy citizens and party contributors, to demand facts, to proclaim optimistic opinions regarding the outcome. Con- stantly the telephones jangle, bringing tales of tradings or treachery by local lead- ers—often unfounded—of election frauds, of trickery at the polling places. By night- fall the excitement has increased. The tele- graph companies have run wires into the building and the returns from polling places and local headquarters throughout the state are clicked off. Usually there is a room somewhere in the rear of the state- headquarters building where a small! group of tight-lipped and trusted men receive these returns, while the head of the ticket and the campaign leader, outwardly con- fident and expansive, with who knows what doubts and fears gnawing away inside, shake hands with their hundreds of well- wishers out in front. Outside the building bands blare, torchlights glow and sputter and the crowds whoop as encouraging bul- letins are flashed on a white screen. The End of the Fight Never shall I forget the last time I sat in one such small, poorly ventilated room, away from the reception which the party was staging in the chairman’s office. I was at the headquarters end of a private wire that wound over high mountains and through deep rivers to the office of the great man of the party, in another city. For him, much depended on the result of that elec- tion—the political control of the state, the triumph or downfall of an organization he had spent years of his life in building. My job was to keep him informed of the run of the vote. Near me stood a small table at which one of the campaign manager’s assis- tants was tabulating the scattered returns from the wires. After noting each one he passed it to me to read over the telephone. The reports from almost a hundred counties poured in so quickly that there was no time to count and compare them. Finally, as the night wore on, the great man asked me to stop sending, and give him an interpre- tation of the figures on hand. | communica- ted the request. The tabulator asked for time. ‘“‘Hold the phone a few moments,” I said over the wire, “‘and we'll break the glad news.” Then the first unofficial counting began. It was an interesting picture spread out there before me. Over the table bent the tabulator, checking the recorded vote against the predetermined figure which we knew we needed for victory. Behind and around him stood the men who had di- rected or helped finance the campaign. The chairman and the head of the ticket slipped back to watch. The campaign treasur was there, and the biggest of the « ers. With staring eyes and parted lips they followed the pencil as it ran up and down the columns. Then they bent closer, closer, until as the last addition was made their heads were clustered together around the computer like a group of schoolboys sharing a guilty secret. As one man their eyes followed the pencil while it checked its additions against the record of required votes. I watched the eyes grow wider, the jaws fall lower, as those four men saw the comparison and stood there, motionless as statues, for a brief second. They said not ing. Then each turned, wearily it seemed, and sat down in the nearest chair. The computer’s pencil fell from his listless fin gers. They were all big men, I reflected, but at that moment each looked to me lik« a small boy in an elder brother’s suit. A voice, an impatient voice over the wire, aroused me. “‘ How about that com- putation?”’ it rasped. “‘Haven’t you com pleted it yet?” I picked up the telephone and handed it to the chairman. ‘‘Here,” I said. “You tell him.” ity lead-

Page 161

SATURDAY EVENING POST

— Pe pte \ ‘ i Sie, QUEEN ANNI eriod a) ' “ by ¥ . Me ‘ { c hb. A eae : rouse Duilti vw Connect t River valley in the rter ( l vn | The t large et I I that fo fw work nece y for the home—et He wil xplain t HIS is a principle that builders of beautiful s, W vs, do trim, stairs and cabinetworhk truction of all Cx t O homes in all ages have always understood t for to for genuine Engh I yrit f f for t { ti | That 1s why builders of many modern hous ind cornices lwgesti in the English styles make sure of having the So also for other architectural The Curtis ¢ t Serv proper woodwork first, even if some furniture has tov stvies. ‘There ie Gertis Weed 438 Curtis Bui ' Ch ! The English took hardwoods—mostly oak—and work for every type of house vale-Hollend Co., Minn , stained or waxed their woodwork so as to bring out And the fine craftsmanship tis & Y WwW *~ he ric h texture of the wood and the natural beauty ot th it ilso distinguished i nglish w “ y } ,

} grain. They used ornament sparingly, and their woodwork is reflected in Curtis —4 LIC 1 I

’ - } 1uings Were shallow, rounded and re Warm, intimate interiors were the result—homesin met 1s lay. Yet Curt

Page 162

SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 ate your radio set Balkite Combination furnishes automatic radio power When connected to your “A” battery it supplies automatic power to both “A” and “B” circuits. Controlled by the fila- ment switch already on your set it is en- tirely automatic in operation. Can be in- stalled in a few minutes, either near the set or ina remote location. A permanent piece of equipment, employing no tubes and requiring no replacements. Will serve any set now using either 4 or 6 volt “A” RB re) batteries and requiring not more than 30 da] ite milliamperes at 135 volts of “B” current A New Balkite Charger ° aes ION ree pga nd 3 as to 8 tubes. Price , r + 9. . (in Canada § -) with both trickle and high charging rates ; MODEL Jj. Has two charging rates: a low trickle charge rate and a high rate for rapid charging and heavy-duty use. Can thus be used either as a trickle or as a high rate charger, and combines their advantages. Noiseless. Large water capacity. Visible electrolyte level. Rates: with 6-volt battery, 2.5 and .5 amperes; with 4-volt battery, .8 and .2 amperes. Special model for 25-40 cycles. Price $19.50. West of Rockies $20. (In Canada $27.50.) A New Balkite “B” at $27.50 Balkite “B” is one of the outstanding successes in radio. It eliminates “B” bat- teries and supplies “B” current from the light socket. It is entirely different from any other “B” device. It is entirely noise- less, permanent, has no bulbsand nothing to wear out or replace. Over 75,000 Balkite“B”’s are today giving satisfactory service on every type of receiver. Three new models for all types of sets: The new ; popular-priced Balkite “B”-W at $27.50, ie ~2_~ +i for sets of 5 tubes or less requiring 67 ; . ° ° ~ to 90 volts. Balkite “B”-X, for sets of 8 _———— oe Balkite Trickle Ch arger petty el —— ene MODEL K. With 6-volt “A” batteries can be left on continu- $42 Balkite “B”-Y, for any standard ; ous ortrickle charge, thus automatically keeping the battery at radio set; capacity 40 milliamperes at full power. Converts your “A battery into a light socket -— 150 volts—$69. “(In Canada “B”-W , power supply. W ith {-volt batteries can be used as an inter- $39: “B’-X $59.50: “B”-Y $96.) , rs mittent charger. Or as a trickle charger if a resistance is ; ’ All Balkite Radio Power Units operate from 110-120 volt AC added. Rate about .5 ampere. 200,000 in use. Price $10. current with models for both 60 and 50 cycles. The new Balkite eae oe Charger is also made in a special model for 25-40 cycles West of Rockies $10.50. (In Canada $15.) Balkite Radio Power Units

Page 163

! _—— — se = — > Ope ie — — - 2% ae ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST _Jrom the light socket Gither with the new Balkite Combination or with a Balkite Charger and Balkite“B” Now you can enjoy the convenience of a light socket radio set without discarding your present receiver. You can do it in either of two ways. By equipment. They employ no bulbs, and have nothing to replace or renew. They require no other attention than the in- frequent addition of water. They cannot adding either thenewBal- kite Combination Radio Power Unit or a Balkite Charger and Balkite “B.” In either case the re- sult is the same—light socket operation and maximum convenience. Anda smooth silent flow WALTER DAMROSCH and the New York Symphony Now you can have a symphony season in your own home. On Saturday evening, October 23rd, began the Balkite Series of Radio Symphony Concerts with Walter Damrosch, dean of Ameri- can Conductors, and the New York Symphony Orchestra deteriorate from either use or disuse. Other than a negligible amount of household current their first cost is the last. With sets of high current requirements their use is highly desirable for the saving alone. They of power that gives you shetounp atdiommmmenrennnes. Gelman: are simple to install and I . ing Saturdays Mr. Damrosch alone gives one of ° ° a constant quality of re- his popeler plone seckala on Wagner's grt require no changes in ° . music dramas ception to be secured in These concerts are broadcast regularly on Sat- our set. 1 Eastern Standard Time urday nights, at 9 p. m., no other Way. WOR. Bufo, WFI— Philadelphia, WCAE~ Over 650,000 radio re- . ° ittsburgh, S/ incinnati, WTAM—Cleve- ° ° ° Balkite Light Socket Land, WWJ Detroit, WON Chicago, WCCO ceivers—including every It does not hum. It is Minneapolis-St. Paul, KSD—St. Louis, WDAF— Power is noiseless power. Kansas City. Watch the grams for detailed announcements. newspaper radio pro- known type—are already Balkite equipped. Equip peak power always. It is never low and never runs down, but is always exactly the power required by the set. It is permanent power; Balkite Radio Power Units are permanent pieces of yours too with Balkite. Then you will know the convenience of Balkite Light Socket Operation and the pleasure of owning a radio set always ready to operate at peak power. FANSTEEL PRODUCTS COMPANY, Incorporated, North Chicago, Illinois Licensees for Germany: Siemens & Halske, A. G. Wernerwerk M Siemensstadt, Berlin Sole Licensees in the United Kingdom: Messrs. Radio Accessories Ltd., 9-13 Hythe Rd. Willesden, London, N. W. 10 Balkite Light Socket Operation

Page 164

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 4 —-~_*= rm “ & “5 LBREAD © surren } 4 “ Mi | >i PANCAKES & MAPLE syrup [—7 ; » Siamese Twins of Food-dom a HERE are some items on the menu ~\ that just naturally pair off —insepara- sy] cE CREAM & CAKE |v ) , am | ——— - —a- aw——_— > ble. Snider's Catsup with cold cuts is one such combination. Snider's Catsup tastes so good because all the flavor of the tomatoes as they were picked ripe from the vine is fresh- kept — preserved by the careful Snider Put up just as carefully as the Catsup, method of cooking and bottling the 4g complete line of Snider vegetables and same day. fruits is now available in glass and tin. This quick and careful method does Enjoy natural flavor fresh-kept. Get all the one thing more. It keeps in the Catsup the _ nutritive elements that nature packed into rich supply of vitamins found in tomatoes the growing foods. For quality supreme, more than in any other food. look for the Snider label. —Sniders. TOMATO PRODUCTS wy Important Booklet — free. For better November 10th to 20th is National 1 wnantt health and appetite read the story of vita- Canned Foods Week. Order Snider prod “ mins and tomatoes. Address Snider, ucts, of uniform /resh-kept quality, in quar —_ Temple Building, Rochester, New York tity for convenience and economy

Page 165

— a and in The Marriage of William Ash, where the heroine was supposed to ride up to the house and where the hoof beats came some four seconds after she had made her en- trance, thereby throwing the audience into gales of laughter from which the play never recovered; to have a trick of memory on the part of a player, who is actually letter perfect, whereby he loses his lines or jumps to another scene, make an act ridiculous; to bear, without letting them rankie too much, the gibes of those critics who go not to criticize his play but to write articles to show their own smartness. If he can do this and can recognize that a successful play is the result not only of his own work but of a remarkable combination of fortuitous circum- stances the absence of any one of which can wreck the whole proceedings, then he will find the writing of plays the most thrilling game in the world, for there is nothing more inspiring and more depressing, more heavenly and more hellish. To hear, on an opening night, the laughs come over strong and true; to have the audience eagerly and silently watching THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SOME OTHERS AND MYSELF Continued from Page 28 Nor must the embryonic playwright, unless he is a genius and can dictate his own terms and see that they are en forced, think that he will become an important personage either in the theater or out of it. He will not The last thing to which the average theatergoer pays any attentior is the name of the author A short time ago an introduction was made between thx president of a very important Irance company and myself. The insurance man said pompously and patroniz ingly, ““A playwright! How interesting! But then, you see, I’m sorry to say that I never go to the theater.”” To which I replied, ‘‘ Please do not distress yourself about it too much; I carry no life insurance After a play has been accepted the average playwright will soon discover that around the theater he will be re garded as a person who must be tolerated but who should not be encouraged. The manager and the director during rehearsals will discover innumer: faults in the play, the existence of which was not dreamed of when the contract was signed. To these criticisms the author, even after many compared with himself, the players and the prod can easily be ascertained by reading the theatrical ad tisements in any Sunday newspaper In the Ne Sunday Times of February seventh, for instance: name of the author of the play is omitted filteen times, al these aysir the romance of the lovers; to have the applause come spon- . years of experience, will give heed even though finally he taneously and in the right places, and tohave thefinal curtaindescend leaving with the audi- ence that warm and electrie feeling which | unmistakably denotesa success -there is noth- ing that I know in the fees ¢ _ | world that can equal it. ae ate ethene ae nna = in the Wizard ef Oz The Unknown : RA. not half the size of UT the reverse of the A # & the name of the ma picture? Nothing who merely staged it is more ghastly! To > hear coughs and the Lambs rustling of programs / lr during the serious 3 fre pj : ~— RE seems to ex scenes; tosense the feel- X a 3 ys ist in every produc ing of unrest which be- _— ‘ na er’s office an unwritte: trays the lack of in- y law that if anything terest, and to feel the r anybody is to be sa play slipping, slipping, Bea ficed must be the slipping, while the earth ‘ playwright When | beneath your feet slips ; , %. : made the production of with it and that feeling oe 3 Come Seven by that of intensified seasick- a « a modest but brilliant ness becomes more vio- ’ 3 author, Octavus Roy lent every minute— ] at ‘ Cohen, founded on some least have not the words j ¥ . of his short stories, he to describe the physical } happened to be in the nausea and accompany- : office when the proofs ing agony of spirit. PHOTO, FROM THE ALBERT DAVIS COLLECTION Lawrance D'Orsay Jeanne Eagties—at Left—in a Scene From the Piay Rain does not accept them, for sucl managers as William A. Brady, A.H. Woods and Sam H. Harris have remained producers yea! in and year out because they have an inborn dramatic stinct, though lacking the ab ity to be p ¢ ts weal Spe , evel erringly on i though it had es« aped him manuscript and though he can sug gest no way to remedy During the rehearsals of his first plays, unless he has made an outs Florence success with a very early one find the average producer roughshod of the printing came l anowu! manager was going to produce : play of mine, one clause in the contract always read that my name was \ ») appear n ever newspaper ad \ vertisement and on all programs \ and printing whenever the mana \ ger’s name appeared, and in the \ Same type, ar il wanted to shov | m that | practiced what | eached, There was } Ame thor exa is Was mine | n ive As we neared Atlantic City, where the play was to have its first pres entation, Cohen caught sight of first advertisement and I no come over his face I asked if there was anything wrong ‘No, nothing at nd he bravely said, all.” I, however, watched for and saw he next advertisement. There was n as originally planned, but Cohen’s name ait Wa » reduced in size that it took a microscop and a search warrant to find it Being aske« over his protests, because the manager is aware that the the meaning yf { the press agent said that the printe playwright will not have the courage to withdraw his there had been a mistake in the proofs and that play; for it is well known that ea iy has ! mething had to be made smaller, and so, of urse, put in rehearsal and withdrawn, every othe manager must be the name of the author. In his « yes and t} regards it with askeptical and suspicious eve he mar t te t was the one and unquestioned t! rto ac ager’s real opinion as to the value « the dramat Continued on Page 165

Page 166

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 Money-Makers VA e gil —_ wie Before you buy a truck or a bus see the Whites at any of our 80 factory ~~ ~ unches or 500 dealers The ere is a Whi ite model to meet every transportation need ori Chassis Model ,; Ton $2,150 Model 20 2 Ton 2,950 Model 51 2 Ton 3,750 Mo lo ce Model 40A —3 Ton 4,350 cle Ww Wy ! ef fey) (as } H'vy Duty 5,100 ypes of power dumping | — VE®Y question of design, power, White Trucks and White Busses, oe eee toes dependability, operating cost, all modeis, everywhere and in all (ot ceed ong life and so onis important in kinds ofservice,are famous money the selection of a motor truck or makers..... And they have been, bus only as it bears on the real unfailingly, since the first White question ~ will it make money? Trucks went into service. THE WHITE COMPANY, CLEVELAND WHITE TRUCKS and WHITE BUSSES MADE RIGHT ~ SOLD RIGHT - KEPT RIGHT

Page 167

(Continued from Page 163 This state of things is by no means in- digenous to America, but in other countries, and especially in France, it shows itself principally in suppressing the name of the playwright and in giving credit to the na- tive adapters of the play only. Thus, some three years ago, when in France, I found that J. Hartley Manners’ play Peg 0’ My Heart was attributed in all advertisements to the French adapters only, without any mention whatever of Mr. Manners. In London last summer, when Rain was being presented there, the newspaper ad- vertisements for months read: ‘The Rean- dean Co. presents Somerset Maugham’s Rain,” ignoring entirely the two young American authors, John Colton and Clem- ence Randolph, who wrote the play from a short story, Miss Thompson, by Somerset Maugham. The opinion of the producers of plays re- garding the author is, however, exalted and inspiring when compared with that of the producer of motion pictures. Judged by his actions and not by his words, the author in his opinion is the lowest form of human life. Quoting from the paper already men- tioned, I find such advertisements as the one for Behind the Front in which the names of the principal players, the director, the man who staged the review and various specialty performers are mentioned, but not that of the author; the Blackbird, in which the names of the star, the featured players, the director, the firm which owns the picture, the saxophone player, the con- cert master, the dancers, the conductor of the orchestra, a composer and two singers are all printed, but not the name of the author. These advertisements are not iso- lated and exceptional; they are usual and characteristic. Becoming a little personal, I find in the New York Times of February fourteenth, in the column headed Gleanings of the Screen, the following paragraph, which I quote in its entirety: ‘‘What Happened to Jones, Reginald Denny's comedy, is to be held over for a second week at the Colony.” Up to the moment when I read that paragraph I had always imagined that What Happened to Jones was my comedy. | wrote it, I draw the royalties from it and I sold the film rights to it. Still, according to the moving-picture producers, it is not my comedy; I am in no way concerned with it; it is Denny’s. Classroom in the Theater And why is it Denny’s? Because he is starring in it. Could anything be more simple and conclusive? In another column I find a reference to John Robertson’s Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and if they will do that to Robert Louis Stevenson, what right have I to complain, no matter what they do to me? And what, O ye who would write plays, do you think that they will do to you? When I determined to write a play the only person who did not ridicule me was my brother. For some unknown reason which I have never been able to fathom, he thought I could do it. Moreover, he was willing to prove his faith by his work, for he offered to let me live with him free for a year to prove whether I could write or not. I accepted his proposition, but insisted that it be put on a business basis, so we agreed that in any play I should write for five years he should have a half interest. If he was willing to gamble, so was I. Knowing nothing about construction, I realized that I must study it; but there was no university course in it in those days and I knew of no book concerned with it, so I worked out the following plan: Having abjured the reading of all advance notices and criticisms by which I might learn the story, I would go the opening night of each play, sit in the gallery, see the first act only, then go home and work out for myself what I thought should be the development THE SATURDAY of the plot. When this was finished I wouid go back to the theater, see the dramatist’s completed work and compare it with what I had done. In this way I learned enough in three months to show me how ignorant I was. There was one instance in which I did not leave. That was the first night of In Mizzoura, by Augustus Thomas, with Goodwin in the principal part. I was so enthralled by it that I couldn't go until the final curtain. Unlike many other stars, Goodwin at that time was not afraid to sur- round himself by and pit himself against the finest actors he could find. In this cast were burly Burr McIntosh as the black- smith, Louis Payne as his helper, and handsome Francis Carlisle as the villain, and no three parts in one play were ever better cast or played. The only woman that I remember was the girl opposite to Payne, played, I believe, by Minnie Dupree. In plays by Thomas the men have always been the dominating feature. In Alabama there was FE. M. Holland, in The Earl of Pawtucket there was Lawrance D'Orsay, in The Witching Hour there were John Mason and Russ Whytal, and in Arizona there were Theodore Roberts, Vincent Serrano, Walter Hale and Edwin Holt. Thomas understands men and writes them with blood in their veins. It was the exact op- posite with Clyde Fitch. He understood women inside and out and to the perfume behind their ears, and wrote them accord- ingly. Some years later we used to have a saying that if Thomas and Fitch would collaborate on a play, Thomas writing the men and Fitch the women, it would be worth going miles to see. Romeo on the Board of Trade My first play was concerned with the life I knew best—that of the Board of Trade. It was a variant of the Romeo and Juliet theme. Two speculators, old enemies, were at death grips over a corner in wheat which one was engineering and the other trying tosmash. Whichever won, the other would be ruined, and the daughter of one and the son of his opponent were in love. The third act was a divided scene, showing the offices of the two men on the culminating day of the duel, each standing at the ticker, watch- ing the quotations and fighting his life-and- death struggle. It was an extremely busy act, with mes- senger boys being sent on the floor with in- structions to the traders, brokers coming for their orders, telephones to and from anx- ious speculators and all the rush and bustle of a climacteric and exciting day. About halfway through the act the corner was broken; prices began to tumble and the rugged and lion-hearted operator of the corner went to his opponent’s office. His mission was to ask his ancient enemy to make a private settlement, for if he were compelled to sell out his wheat on the market, prices would fall tremendously and he would not only be penniless, he would be bankrupt. His enemy replied that he could not do it, because he was only one of a syndicate, to which the other replied that he was the head of it and nothing that he did would be questioned, and added, “‘ You’ve got all I have. You can’t get blood out of a stone. What more do you want?” But he found it unavailing. He returned to his office to find his son, who was a partner in the firm, waiting for him. Meantime the other speculator’s daughter came to his office to tell him she was going to call for him and see that he had some luncheon, and found her father’s tri- umph meant the loss of her sweetheart, for she knew he would not ask her to marry him under the circumstances. After she left, there came an unexpected turn in the market. There had been a sud- den clash between two of the smaller Euro- pean nations and the major powers were sure to be involved. Immediately prices skyrocketed. The end of the act found father and son on one side, the father tri- umphant but sympathizing, for his son had EVENING POST Hazel H. Adler, author of books on interior decoration, gives valu able suggestions on har monizing furniture and draperies with walls and floors, in our 436-page book, ‘*Planning the Color Schemes for Your Home,’’ beautifully illustrated in full r ment amywhere in the United States upon receipt of 4U cents When you visit the Ses- qui-Centennial Interna tional Exposition art Philadelphia, see the displays of Blabor Linoleum at these locations: The Blabon Exhibit in the Palace of Liberal Arts and Manu factures; The Wall Paper House in the Palace of Liberal Arts and Manu factures; he Shippen House on High Street Good Housekeeping's Model Home _. In this drug-store at Ninth and Walnut Streets, Philadelphia a Blabon floor of Marble Tile Inlaid Linole pattern 21 ng splendid ser abon gin er t J’ This floor withstands everyday hard wear! Constant service day and night! Scuffing and tread, tread, tread of feet in and out! That's what the floor of a drug-store gets in a large city. But traffic means little to the sturdy, wear resisting Blabon floors of In!aid Linoleum in the store shown here. Resilient—quiet and comfortable to walk upon—it is friendly to the store’s customers And its colorful Marble Tile pattern pleases the eye! Not only dignified and beautiful, Blabon floors are easy to clean, and economical to maintain. This is why Blabon floors of Linoleum are so largely used in stores, smart shops, offices and other commercial buildings. The modern method of cementing linoleum down over builders’ deadening felt insures watertight seams, which are practically invisi- ble, and makes a Blabon floor permanent. Home furnishing or department stores will show you the new decorative Blabon’s Lino- leum. Write our Advisory Bureau of Interior Decoration for suggestions without cost to you. For genuine linoleum look for the name Blabon. Our illustrated booklet, “The Floor for the Modern Home,” sent free, upon request. The George W. Blabon Company Nicetown, Philadelphia Established 75 years % LABONS Linoleum

Page 168

in any weather Because they assure an adequate supply of fresh, pure, heated air at a pull of a handle on the instrument board. Monroe Forced-Draft Auto Heaters will make the cars listed below comfortable in any weather. Being of the manifold type, they prevent exhaust fumes from entering the car. Also, as the control valve is placed behind the heating chamber, you are assured a cool register plate in warm weather. Monroe Forced-Draft Auto Heaters are available for any of the follow- ing cars: CHEVROLET Chevrolet owners everywhere are enthusiastic over the quick, steady, odorless, pure heat sup- plied by the Monroe Auto Heaters. Price $7.50.* DODGE This Monroe Auto Heater for Dodge cars can be instantaneously adjusted te furnish any de- sired volume of heai. Price for 1926 Model, (with air cleaner) $8.50.* For other Dodge cars, $6.50 q | [ at Ce aki ’ OVERLAND Drivers of Overland Model 91 find the Monroe Auto Heater attractive in appearance, easy to in- tall and free from noise and rattles. Price $6.50.* FORD The special Monroe Heater for Fords is of cast-iron and replaces the regular Ford manifold it gives positive heat without odor. Price only $7.50.* Aan Come PONTIAC The Pontiac Six becomes a delightfully warm, comfortable and healthful car for winter use rice $8.50.* *Prices slightly higher west of Rockies Installation charge extra when Monroe-Heater-equipped See your accessory or car dealer today and let him tell you more of the varied advantages of Monroe Forced-Draft Auto Heaters. MONROE AUTO EQUIPMENT MFG. CO. Monroe, Michigan MONROE £202 AUTO HEATER THE SATURDAY lost his sweetheart; and on the other the girl telling her father, who was not only broken financially but physically, that she would not leave him. How the two lovers were brought together is too long a story to tell, but it was done at five minutes to eleven and to the satisfaction of all directly concerned. The actor whom I had in mind for the principal part was William H. Crane; but I did not know him, nor did I know how to reach him in an effective way. I told my difficulty to Milton Nobles, with whom I had become acquainted in San Francisco, and who was not only an actor but an author. In fact, he was starring in his own play, The Phoenix, in which he originated and used as a gag line the much-quoted “And the villain still pursued her.” Nobles liked the play so much that he volunteered to read it to Crane, and a few weeks later I received a telegram from him saying that Crane had accepted it and would be in Chicago in a fortnight, when I was to call on him and sign the contracts. My first play accepted by the man for whom it was written and that man such a star as W. H. Crane! It seemed too good to be true—and subsequent events proved that it was. I met Crane as arranged, and also his manager, Joseph Brookes. Both professed themselves delighted with the play, in which they suggested a few changes to which I readily agreed. Then Brookes said he was compelled to go to New York on business and would telephone me on his return the following week. Wahat is Success? This he did, saying, “‘Come over to the hotel at two o’clock tomorrow and sign the contract.”” I reported promptly at the hour set and was greeted with, “Hello, young man, sorry to have troubled you, but we have changed our minds.” And that was all. The abruptness of it, together with its being the culmination of a long series of un- interrupted jolts and jabs, struck me as being so funny that I merely sat down and laughed. But it wasn’t from the heart. The next man to whom Nobles read the play was Thomas Q. Seabrooke, a promi- | nent comic-opera comedian whose greatest success had been in The Isle of Champagne. Seabrooke wanted to leave the musical | stage for the legitimate, and again the play | was accepted. Before the contract was signed he insisted on two changes. The first | was that I should chop the final letter from the title The Speculators and make it The Speculator. As he was to be the star of the | play, and as he was to play only one part, why mention the other? The second altera- tion was to rearrange the scenes at the | opening of the play so that his entrance could be made later, as no self-respecting star could be expected to come on until the curtain had been up at least twenty min- utes. Both these changes I made, the first easily, the second not so easily. Rehearsals of The Speculator were di- rected by William Lytell, the father of Bert Lytell, the well-known legitimate actor and | moving-picture star. The opening perform- ance was in Albany, New York, at Har- manus Bleecker Hall on a Christmas night. There was an excellent house, attracted by Seabrooke’s comic-opera reputation, and for a time it was the most puzzled audience I have ever seen. It was as though they had gone to see Leon Errol, for example, and instead of finding him in his usual musical- comedy surroundings, discovered him play- ing a comedy-drama in which there was neither a song nor a drunken scene. Seabrooke, however, was an admirable actor with a fine sense of character, consid- erable force and a sure comedy touch. Little by little he won attention and in- terest, and at the end of the play the audience demanded a speech. Next day the news was abroad that there was no chorus, no singing and no dancing, and down fell the receipts. It was the same wherever he played. The auditors seemed pleased, the criticisms for the play averaged nicely and Seabrooke was highly praised. EVENING POST But the playgoers did not want him in that kind of vehicle. Still, he did sufficient busi- ness to warrant his playing the piece not only for that season but also for the next, including a neglected fortnight at the Fifth Avenue Theater, New York. At the end of the second season I did not know whether the play had been a success or not. While he was playing at t' ¢ Grand Opera House in Chicago that seasu.:, I had spoken with Roland Reed, a comedian with a fol- lowing peculiarly his own and the father of that superb actress, Florence Reed, about a comedy I had in mind which I thought might suit him. He seemed genuinely in- terested and asked me to send it to him when finished, but as he announced a play by a well-known and successful dramatist, I did not do it. Knowing the other play was in rehearsal, I was surprised to receive a telegram from Reed asking me to send mine immediately. A day or two after its arrival in Boston, where Reed lived and re- hearsed, I received another telegram from him asking me to go there at once. I did so and found they were rehearsing my play, which was called The Wrong Mr. Wright. Reed’s leading lady was Isadore Rush, a charming and beautiful blonde, who made it her business to keep trim and fit. In her theater trunk she always carried a regular- sized medicine ball with which she prac- ticed every morning for at least an hour with the company’s stage carpenter and property man, asking no quarter and giving none. One of the members of the company was Charles Coote, who played a silly-ass Englishman. His was one of those rare per- formances where a player by a combination of skill and personality gives the author more than he really put in the part. An- other member, a rather stout man with a red and comic face, who appeared only for a few minutes in the last act, was John Bunny, who became the first moving- picture star and who in consequence was the first American actor to be followed by a crowd in the streets of London and to be cheered by a London audience on his ap- pearance in a theater to witness a first- night performance. A Pressing Engagement The rehearsals had been in progress for a few days when a young man in the company asked Reed to excuse him from the after- noon rehearsal. This Reed emphatically refused to do, pointing out that the play was being put on in twelve days instead of in the regulation three weeks, and that every moment was needed for work. The actor was as persistent as Reed was emphatic, and said that he had made the engagement long before he was under con- tract to Reed and that he simply must keep it. At this Reed played what he thought was his trump card, and said, “‘ Very well, if you consider that engagement more im- portant than this, keep it, but don’t come back.”’ The actor, evidently perturbed, but re- luctant to surrender his contract, hesitated for a second and then replied ‘‘ Very good, sir’’ and started to leave. Before he had gone a dozen steps, Reed, who was one of the best-natured men that ever lived and who had only been bluffing, called out “Come back here,’’ which the actor did. Reed continued: “‘ You told me you wanted this job and wanted it badly.” The actor replied, ‘ Yes, sir; and I still do. It will be a hard blow if I lose it.” To this Reed rejoined, ‘And yet you're willing to quit?” The actor’s answer was: I don’t want to quit, Mr. Reed, but I’ve simply got to keep this engagement—lI’ve got to. ‘What is this engagement that’s so all- fired important? Can you tell me that?”’ ” November 6, 1926 The young actor replied, “‘ Yes, sir. It’s an engagement—to be—married.”’ At this there was a yell from everyone, and Reed slapped the actor on the back and said, ““You bet your life you'll keep it! What time’s the ceremony?” The actor told him. ‘‘Where?”’ asked Reed, and the actor gave him the information. “All right,’’ said Reed, ‘‘run along; we'll all be there.” The actor protested that he could stay to the end of the morning rehearsal, but Reed would not hear of it and the young man went away, smiling and joyful. He was Hol- brook Blinn, who is still happily married to the selfsame wife whom he acquired that summer day. I have never seen an actor relish rehears- als as did Reed on this occasion. He loved the play and he adored his part. He was a joy to everyone, especially to the author and to the producer, William Seymour, who was afterward for a long time gen- eral stage manager for Charles Frohman. Reed would stop rehearsals to chuckle over his lines, and the success of the play to him never was in doubt. I am happy to say that his optimism was justified, for it was a hit from the opening performance. In Search of a Laugh The night before the premiére Reed gave a little dinner at which he very generously made me the guest of honor. To my right sat Reed and his daughter, and to my left sat Miss Rush and her daughter. Seymour, during the evening, proposed the following toast: *Here’s to Mr. Broadhurst, the Moses who we hope will lead us into the promised land of success.”’ My response was, “‘I presume that Mr. Seymour refers to me as a Moses because he finds me among the Reeds and the Rushes.”’ It is not often that a man gets a cue like that. Watching the presentations in Boston, where I stayed for the first fortnight of the play, taught me many things, among them being what an easy matter it is to kill a laugh and how difficult it is for a comedian to continue his performance at its peak. A slight change in inflection; a difference in pitch or pace; an unusual movement, even of the hand, for the eye will follow it and the attention will be momentarily dis- tracted from the lines, and the laugh is dead. Laughs are the coin of the realm in com- edy and farce, and when they are lost, the play, like an impoverished country, goes bankrupt. For this reason the real come- dian treasures his laughs faithfully, and if he loses one continues to search for it until he finds it. Of this, William Collier, a mar- velous laugh getter, is a great example. If at any performance he misses one of his laughs, he notices the spot particularly at the following one; and if again the laugh does not come he is as worried over it as is a cat over a missing kitten. He will call a rehearsal either before or after the perform- ance just for that line, and will observe not only what he does but what everyone else on the stage does, for an unconscious move- ment on the part of another player will often kill the comedian’s effect. Moreover, Collier will keep experimenting until the laugh is restored, and then he is happy again. He knows his business so thor- oughly, and works with such precision and exactitude, that his laughs are won with machinelike regularity. He always gives of his best, which not only prolongs the life of the play but has established him with his audiences. An audience feels instinctively when a player is slighting his work, and quite natu- rally resents it. This more than anything else led to the decline of Goodwin, who should have been the king regent of the American stage. At the height of his career he began to think more of himself and of his own amusement than he did of the audi- ence. He forgot that the actor is, after all, merely the servant of the public and lives Continued on Page 169

Page 169

be Found where we were LOSING MONEY — ‘Now every department of our business is on a paying basis—and our records aresure.’ Here is the biggest thing that McCaskey Cash and Credit Registers did for the Bel- videre Implement Co., of Belvidere, Illinois. Many /osing departments were put on a money making basis. They stopped hidden losses—the kind that ordinary sales records do not reveal—yer, that are today eating away the profits of many dealers. With the McCaskey Cash Register every sale from any one of as many as eight depart- ments and by any one of as many as nine sales clerks is automatically printed on a detail strip and added to the day's total Quick—no writing. As Mr. Woods, of the Belvidere Implement Co., says, “Just push a button and a complete record is made even with a dozen customers in the store.” Turn- ing a switch makes the Cash Register a com- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST plete adding machine. Just what every store needs for adding checks, invoices, long col- umns of figures, etc With the McCaskey Credit System every account is always audited, ready for instant settlement. Bookkeeping problems are eliminated, posting and rewriting errors are prevented, forgotten charges are avoided, collections are always kept up—all with ‘ONE writing’’—a single entry at lowest cost, and a great saving in time Write for McCaskey Literature McCaskey Register Systems are recording sales in every known type of retail or whole- sale stores—auto accessory stores and ga- rages, drugs, dry goods, general stores, gro- ceries, hardware, meat markets, lumber yards and feed stores, electric shops, etc. If you are a dealer in any recognized line of busi- ness, write for information on how McCaskey Cash or Credit Systems can serve you THE McCASKEY REGISTER COMPANY, ALLIANCE, OHIO - Galt, Canada - Watford, Englana CASH REGISTERS McCASKEY SYSTEMS For Retail Dealers Have y a re t eve a a harge sale—By D By Clerk I e da Car Riv 4 McCaskey ¢ ( For Physicians and Dentists Have youa if icaland fina al t d mw r f getcall i i € Mc Ss t w riting Ww if Mct for » McCaskey Quality Salesbooks are supplied in all forms to meet any requirement

Page 170

The Oldest American Fire and Marine Insurance Company Founded 1792 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The cost of repairing a chim- ney is infinitesimal when com- pared with the cost of rebuild- ing a home.. Yet more homes are damaged or destroyed every year by fires originating in defective chimneys and flues than by any other single cause of fire. Have:your chimney cleaned at least once a year. A fire in the chimney proper is usually caused by accumulations of soot. If it smokes heavily and continuously, imperfect com- bustion, due to faulty heating epeaseseekeseh@me) mmmertciae tele l mme) Mm Ob ing, may be causing undue soot deposits. Have your chim- ney, flues and heating pipes regularly inspected, kept clean and in good repair, and you will have little cause to fear a chimney fire. The North America Agent can give you valuable advice and assistance on practical Fire Prevention. Insurance Company of Wheludetmeeets ater! PHILADELPHIA and the Indemnity Ins. Co. of North America write practically every form of insurance except life November 6, 1926

Page 171

} = 2 —— (Continued from Page 166) only by its favor. 'f he wished to go toa prize fight Goodwin would cut whole scenes of the play to enable him to get to it in time; if he did not feel at his best he slumped in his efforts just when he should have rallied them; if the audience did not immediately respond to his work, instead of working all the harder, he became indif- ferent and did not hesitate to show it by his manner In The Captain, a play by Charles T. Dazey and myself, his delight was to break up the members of the company, and he spent his time in devising ways of making them laugh instead of making the audience laugh. One player, however, resisted all Goodwin's efforts. That was Charles Lane, now a well-known picture actor. He pitted himself and his determination not to laugh against Goodwin's ambition to make him, and I do not think that Goodwin ever suc- ceeded in breaking Lane’s will. While appearing with Goodwin in a play of mine, The Easterner, Renée Kelly, who went to London to play the leading part in Daddy Longlegs and has remained there, a great favorite, ever since, was married. This gave Goodwin a great charice. He sprinkled her with rice during every scene he had with her; he made sly allusions to her husband and he improvised speeches about matrimony and its consequences. This, of course, delighted him and the mem- bers of the company, but mystified and en- raged the members of the audience, for they knew that they were being slighted and trifled with. My next work was a farce, and its start- ing point was the question what two char- acters could I give to a comedian that were the farthest apart and would allow him the best chance to show his versatility. For these I selected a traveling salesman and a bishop. The next question was under what circumstances could I force the traveling man to assume the role of the bishop. From this point the farce developed so rapidly that from the moment when I first had the idea to the day on which I finished the play less than three weeks had elapsed. To the salesman, who represented a hymn-book house and sold playing cards as a side line, I gave the name of Jones, and to the farce the title What Happened to Jones. This play was hawked up and down Broadway without any takers in spite of the fact that of the two plays I had previously written one was a success and the other only a semifailure. The reasons given for refus- ing it would make a special volume for the Carnegie Library. All the action took place in one set, and one manager said, “‘ My boy, when the audience sees the curtain go up for the third act on the same scene, they'll get up and walk out.” A New Producing Firm I replied, “‘ They will if they go to see the scenery, but perhaps they won’t if they go to see the play.” Another manager said he might consider it if I would change the servant girl from a Swede to an Irishwoman, to which I made answer that the Irish servant was a stock character and had been seen hundreds of times, whereas the Swedish girl character was a novelty—as it was at that time. To this the manager replied, ‘‘She’s such a novelty that nobody will understand her, and besides, I don’t think she’s funny.” My belief in the play was unabated by these criticisms, and my brother’s confi- dence in it being equal to mine, we made the desperate resolve to do it ourselves, and so the producing firm of Broadhurst Broth- ers was formed, it being arranged that my brother was to run the business and I was to write the plays. The desperation of this plan lay in the fact that all the money we could raise in any and every way amounted to less than $2500, and we realized that after we had arranged for the scenery, the properties, the dresses and the cost of production, we should be in debt before we opened and that THE SATURDAY one week’s bad business would mean ruin; but remembering father’s advice about gambling, we went at it with light hearts As we had no money to lose on an ex tended tryout on the road, the first thing we had to try for was a New York theater All the established theaters turned us down promptly and coldly, but it happened that the old Standard Theater, which had de teriorated into a dime museum, had been taken over and renovated by a manager who had been connected with burlesque and wanted to try his luck in the legitimate. He had renamed the house the Manhattan Theater, but this did not tempt the play producers to try their luck in it, because, as they so elegantly expressed it, in spite of the paint the audience would still smell the monkeys. I read the play to him, and as he was des- perate for a play and we were desperate for a theater, we decided to take a chance and all be desperate together. He insisted on a very stiff self-protection contract —that is, it was self-protecting to him —which we, being the more desperate of the two, ac- cepted. Then we were fortunate enough to retain J. J. Rosenthal as our business man- ager, than whom a better selection could not have been made; and to stage the play we engaged McKee Rankin. Not a Laughing Matter When I read the farce to the company I was surprised that I was not rewarded with asingle laugh during the first act, astounded that I did not get one in the second and paralyzed when I did not receive one in the third. I finished it in something of a panic, thinking perhaps that the managers were right after all, and with visions of debt, to which I was accustomed, and of jail, to which I was not. Immediately I had finished reading, Rankin jumped up and to my great sur- prise said in his robust way, “‘There’s a great farce! It will make a fortune!” And the members of the company unanimously and heartily expressed their approval of his verdict. “But,” I said, “it is supposed to be funny and not one of you laughed once.”’ They replied in chorus, “Why, that would be the worst luck in the world,” which was my introduction to that especial one of the many superstitions of the stage. Of the various first nights my plays have had in New York, not one was so nerve- racking as the first performance of Jones. Both members of the firm of Broadhurst Brothers realized that if the play was not an immediate success they would be un- able to pay salaries on the first Saturday night, for Bates had already advanced them all the money he had and there was no one else to whom they could go. In spite of the fact that it was a rather sultry August night, the farce seemed to go very well, the laughs gaining in momentum and volume as the play progressed. At the fall of the curtain everyone seemed sanguine of suc- cess and the congratulations we received were spontaneous and genuine. A man with any perception soon learns to discriminate about such things. If his friends trouble to hunt him up and say, “Tt’s a hit, old man,” or “It’sa knock-out shake,” he knows they are in earnest; but if they avoid or evade him, or if they are forced to meet and they say, “It went very well, didn’t it?” or “‘ Anyway, I think you have a success’’—the most damning of phrases—-then he knows that so far as they are concerned the thing is a total loss. I have never had a scrapbook, nor have 1 kept a single line that has been written about my plays or myself. A few sentences are, however, projected boldly onto the screen of my memory, and among them is the heading of the criticism in the New York Herald the morning after the open- ing. It was the first paper that I saw and the headline was A Rattling Good Farce. The notices averaged very well and things looked propitious. But much depended on the weather. For a play in the summer— | am not speaking of musical plays —the EVENING POST advance sale, even for a success, is compara tively small, for the the atergoers do not are to watch a play with the mercury hovering about the nineties. The sale is mostly at the box office between half-past seven and half-past eight, and the differ- ence in receipts between a cool night and a hot one will often be $1000. In the language of the theater, we got the break The weather for the week was fairly cool, busi- ness was good, and again in the vernacular, we looked set. The real truth was that our troubles had not really begun. Early in the second week the weather turned hot, with that oppres- sive, moist, sweltering heat which is so hard to bear, and with the heat came a corre- sponding drop in the receipts. The result was that we did not reach the stop limit, for the contract stipulated that if the tak- ings fell below a certain figure for two con- secutive weeks, the manager could give us one week's notice to vacate. Everything depended on the third week, because pro- ducers who had refused to take a chance in the beginning, realizing from our first week’s business that the public would go to the theater despite the fact of its previous low estate, were making propositions for the time there. Compared to the third week, the second was like a cool evening in October. The sun brought up its heaviest artillery and bom- barded the city with heat shells until life became unbearable. In the poorer sections people slept in the streets and on the fire escapes. Sleeping at night was allowed in all the parks, the soda water bubbled and the asphalt bubbled too. The actors dripped perspiration all over the stage and the people in the audience fanned them- selves vigorously, mopped their faces un- successfully and damned themselves for coming, even on free tickets. Again the re- ceipts fell below the stop clause, and on Saturday night the manager of the theater gave us our notice, for he had procured as the next attraction a play called The First- Born, which called for a big production and had had a tremendously successful engage- ment in San Francisco Good Old Jones On the following Monday night the weather turned cool and our receipts more than doubled. On Tuesday and Wednesday they jumped still higher, and there we were with an assured success on our hands and compelled to give up the theater. Here comes the luck of the game: On Thursday the manager of the attraction playing at the Bijou Theater put up the notice of their closing at the end of the week and on the following Monday we moved there without the loss of a single day. There we continued triumphantly until the Christ- mas holidays, when we were compelled to take to the road owing to a previous book- ing of which we had been advised when the contract for the house was signed. The in- coming attraction, however, lasted only three or four weeks, so we organized a sec- ond company to follow it and it played at the Bijou until the close of the season. This resulted in a situation which I do not think has been paralleled, for the original New York company was playing on tour while the second company was occupying the boards of a Broadway theater for a run Good old Jones. It has been played in England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Aus- tralia, New Zealand, South Africa, India, China, Japan, Egypt, Canada, Ceylon, France, Norway, Sweden, Holland, Ger- many and South America. It is still a favorite with amateurs in every country where English is spoken; it is occasionally played in stock, and after twenty-eight years of existence it has recently been filmed for a second time. It has been a bread winner, a life saver and a constant friend in days of trouble. Good old Jones! Charles Arnold produced Jones in Lon- don, where it had the longest run of any American comedy up to that time. He also played it in South Africa, Australia and New Zealand, where it held the record even sf? Cavendish Raglan O U A L I | » 4 is “excellence of character distinct trom other things JOHN SHANNON'S ENGLISH COATS are excellent in character —dis- uinctive in appearang Incon testably correct’. The tailoring is as fine as England can produce —the ELEGANCE of the resulting eftect undeniable 11 All Good Shops or write forname oj nearest Dealerand Illustrated Bookles MAGNUS IMPORTS, LTP igen 208 Fifth Ave., New York City Wheiesale Only JOHN SHANNONS ENGLISH CLOTHES pote oSnceeheet Today both men and w en want smoot ede! 2107 People tell how they keep their hair in place If your hair is thing to keep Yet you need not experiment! T you can use the dressing that more peopl rely on than any other! When 2107 people were asked what the to keep their hair in place he dre they preferred to all other vas t Let us send you, free, a genercus sampie of this remarkable dressing You may prefer Stacomb in cream form—in the attractive jar or the handy tube. O i say prefer the delightful new Liquid S But in either Sta t 1 Ww tota , ble on r heir, pleasar i rea keep p " iay long Stacomb never leaves your hair dr an brittle, either, as daily wetting with water ab Stacomb is actually beneficial, beca tends to prevent dandruff. At all drug an partment stores FREE OFFER — Standard Laboratories, Inc Dept. A-93, 113 West 18th St.. New Y Send me free sample of Staco Original, cream form

Page 172

For the Reception Hall This handsome Chest with its carved trim, of- fersavery beautifuleffect. nut, cedar-lined There are richly carved period chests and a variety of simpler styles in wal- and many others in solid ‘Tennessee red cedar. Ask your nearest dealer to show you these latest Caswell-Runyan de- signs. He will explain to you how the Treasure Chests kill moths. Write for the Key to Your Treasure Chest”, a fodder of Treasure Chest styles—it tells you what you should know about Cedar Chests, THE CASWELL-RUNYAN CoMPANY Dept. A-11, Huntington, Indiana CASWEL A chest for every purse EDAR CHESTS are a necessity. Not to use them is lack of econ- omy. You have your beautiful furs, warm coats, blankets, and soft woolen fabrics. They cost you lots of money. Yet the moths can and will utterly destroy them if given a chance. Pro- tect your Treasures in a Caswell- Runyan Treasure Chest lined with moth-killing Tennessee red cedar. All the aromatic oils which destroy moths and larvae are retained in this fragrant wood by our scientific cur- ing process. We are the pioneers in this industry. And our life-long experience is your guar- antee of splendid construction and perfect workmanship. In beauty, the Caswell-Runyan Treasure Chests are un- rivaled. We have made them exquisite pieces of furniture. Once the cedar chest was the “ugly duckling” among your furniture. Today it brings you a highly decorative effect for your living room, hall, dining room, or sun room, as well as your bedroom. The cabinetwork is magnificent. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST against Charley’s Aunt. This was by no means due solely to the play. Arnold was a great favorite in all three countries, and the fact that he was the star in the London pro- duction and took with him his London com- pany also helped tremendously. When Arnold arrived in Australia he A Window Seat Chest This new Treasure Chest is in richly grained walnut with floral decorations. CASWELL UNYAN — = RUNYAN found that a pirated version was being pre- sented there. As he had provided himself with a duly certified copy of the copyright certificate, he had no difficulty in procuring an injunction against the unauthorized production. The pirate, however, simply moved to another city, changed the name of the play and produced it again. Then the | British law began to operate, the result | being that he was sentenced to imprison- ment for contempt of court. They do some things differently in the British Empire. It has been extremely difficult in the United States to make people, including the national legislators, realize that a play is a man’s personal property and belongs to him just as much as does his watch or his | hat, and that to steal his play should be punishable just as any other theft. Only in comparatively recent years has there been any effective Federal law, for I can remem- ber the time when, if an author or producer procured an injunction in any state against a play stealer, the pirate would simply move to another state, where the proceedings would have to begin all over again. This made play piracy both profitable and hu- morous, for it developed into a game called Find the Flea, with the pirate as the flea. | Owing to the combined efforts of the au- | thors and managers, a Federal law was passed some years ago which provided, among other things, that if a moving pic- ture was made of a copyrighted play, novel or story without the consent of the holder of the copyright, the maker should be com- pelled to pay him fifty dollars for each presentation of the unauthorized picture. A few years after the passage of the bill an amendment was introduced in Congress which in its ultimate analysis meant that if a moving-picture concern pirated a play, novel or story, it could merely be fined $100, which would go to the court, leaving the author with nothing. While the bill was in committee a delegation, of which Augustus Thomas was chairman and of which the | other members were Charles Klein, William A. Brady, Wilton Lackaye, Harry P. Maw- son and myself, was sent to oppose its passage. Those who favored the bill also were represented by a committee, who had two high-priced lawyers to present their case. Their first argument was that the penalty was so great that it might tempt authors to bring strike suits for the simple purpose of forcing the picture firms to make a settlement rather than risk a trial. Danger From Gold Bricks One of our committee asked if any such | suit had ever been brought, and the answer was “Not as yet,” to which our inquirer | added, ‘‘Then thank you for the idea.”’ | Continuing, the advocate said that there was the danger of the picture producer | being an innocent offender, and he stated that only a short time previously one pro- ducer had purchased the rights from a very | well-known novelist to all his short stories for $100 each, and that he started to film | one of them and found that it had been used as the basis of a play. Investigation | showed that the novelist had disposed of both the dramatic rights and the film rights of that particular story to the dramatist. One of our committee asked if the picture man s recourse was not against the novel- ist. The lawyer admitted that it was. Then Lackaye rose and said, ‘‘ May I ask the learned gentleman just one question?”’ Permission being given, Lackaye continued in his most urbane but rapierlike manner: ““May I ask the learned gentleman if he knows that there are men in New York who will sell him the Flatiron Building if he is fool enough to buy it?” When the two attorneys for those in favor of the bill had made their closing speeches, November 6, 1926 Augustus Thomas rose to reply for us and began in this fashion: “Mr. Chairman and gentlemen of the committee: Before beginning to put before you my arguments in contravention of those you have just heard, may I call your attention to the disadvantages under which my confreres and my cause are laboring be- cause of me? The two learned gentlemen who have preceded me, and who have so ably and adroitly presented their side of the case, are advocates and pleaders both by training and profession, and they have been chosen to appear before you because they have on many occasions proved their apt- ness in argument and their eloquence in de- bate. Now I am not an advocate. I am merely a playwright. Therefore, gentlemen of the committee, I ask you to take this into consideration when you are weighing the merits of their presentation and of mine. On the one hand you have two trained and brilliant orators whose business is to make speeches, and on the other a man whose business is to write speeches for other men to make.” We who knew Thomas realized the irony of these remarks, for he is one of the most brilliant speakers of this or any other coun- try. He had been addressing the committee for only a few minutes when word began to drift around the building that in this par- ticular committee room there was a speaker who could really speak, and the room, which previously had been empty except for those directly interested, soon began to fill. Passing the Censors Proceeding, Thomas said: ‘These gen- tlemen who advocate this bill have told you that they wish it passed so that the authors may be kept out of temptation. They ad- mit that so far no author has succumbed to the temptation, but they are so eager for the author’s well-being and so anxious re- garding his soul that they pay these attorneys their very large fees and take the time from their own multitudinous and re- munerative affairs to come here to advocate the passing of this measure simply to re- move from the path of the author a tempta- tion which has failed to tempt. Now let us see who these noble and altruistic souls are.” Turning to one of the picture men, he said, “Did you or did you not film without the knowledge or consent either of the author or manager, and did you not present the moving picture so stolen until you were stopped by law? I demand an answer, yes or no.” The man addressed, told to answer by the chairman of the committee, had to ad- mit that he had done as Thomas claimed. Then Thomas turned to another man and demanded, “ Did not the firm of which you are a member make a pirated film and present it till you were stopped by law?”’ Again an admission was given. The bill died there. It was with the presentation of Jones in London that I first became acquainted with the vagaries of censorship, for the Lord Chamberlain refused to give a license for its performance because a bishop was placed in a position which would make him ridiculous to an audience. It was perfectly proper for a curate to be so placed, as he had been many times, notably in The Pri- vate Secretary; no serious objection would be made if it were a vicar or a prebendary, or even a canon or a dean; but a bishop, a member of the House of Lords—well, really, you know, that’s going a bit too far. Don't you think so? What? The objection was easily circumvented. Instead of having him a bishop, we made him a professor of theology and addressed him as doctor. He still dressed like a bishop, he still talked like a bishop, he still walked like a bishop, and not a line of his dialogue was changed; but nobody called him bishop and so the law was satisfied, all danger was passed and everyone, including the censor, was satisfied and happy. Continued on Page 173

Page 173

ne. , — I a — —— eee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Noel bra od The Missouri State Life Insurance Company shows the remarkable increase of 94.35 per cent in actual insurance in force in the period 1920 to1925. In five brief years the company has practically doubled its volume—an outstanding accomplishment in the field of life insurance. The two principal factors to which may be attributed the Missouri State Life Insurance Company’s remarkable record of growth, are: (1) Its new and more attractive forms of insur- ance investments, covered by more than 50 dif- ferent types of life, accident, health and group insurance contracts. (2) Its liberal compliance with the desire of policy-holders to have the management and administration of the com- pany’s affairs in the hands of men with broad ex- perience and unquestioned ability in the handling of large-scale business, financial and investment problems. The company’s strong board of di- rectors in reality act as trustees for the policy- holders and regard themselves as such. It is this feeling of safety and confidence on the part of policy-holders in our board of directors that has been an important factor in our progress. and rapid growth. Five thousand carefully selected agents in 40) states, the District of Columbia and Territory of Hawaii, represent the selling organization of the company, to which new agencies are being added rapidly. The opportunities afforded by our pro- gram of expansion are attracting highly capable, conscientious insurance specialists. She Companys 2 L. W. BALDWIN, St. Louis, Mo President, Missouri Pacific Railroad WHITEFORD R. COLE, Nashville, Tenn President, Louisville & Nashville R. R.; President, Board of Trustees, Vanderbilt University. Ek. D NIMS, a. Louis, Mo President, Southwestern Bell Telephone Co F.O. WA ria St. Louis Mo President, First National Bank J. SHEPPARD SMITH, St. Louis, Mo President, Mississippi Valley Trust Co W.S. BRANSFORD, Nashville, Tenn Capitalist, JAMES E. CALDWELL, Nashville, Tenn President, Fourth and First National Bank; Chairman of Board, Southern Bell Telephone Company 2 Board of Directors. ROGERS CALDWELL, Nashville, Tenn President, Caldwell & Co President, Bank of Tennessee W. FRANK CARTER, St. Louis, Mo Carter, Nortoni & Jones, Attorneys Director, National Bank of Commerce i St. Louis PAUL M. DAVIS, Nashville, Tenn Vice-President, American National Bank Chairman, Board of Directors, Tennessee Central R. R THEOBALD FELSS, Cincinnati, Ohio President, Felss Flour Milling Co M. E. SINGLETON, St. Louis, Mo President, Missouri State Life Insurance Company HILLSMAN TAYLOR, St. Louis, Mo Vice-President, Missouri State Life Insurance Compan Insurance in force $635,000,000 Assets $67,000,000 Missouri State Life Insurance Company Home Office—Missouri State Life Building, St. Louis, U.S.A. Branch offices in all leading cities

Page 174

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 —_ 2 OE ne ri —— = Ee ais ccm mn os 4FR BANISHED ~the Worry o Income lax lime Will next March be a frantic scramble on your part for essential figure facts? Will it mean weeks and days of overtime and worry for you? With the Burroughs Simplified Accounting Plan, your income tax returns can be filled in as fast as you can copy the balances from the daily profit-and-loss statement. This plan not only takes care of your income tax report more effi- ciently but also gives you the figure-facts every day with which you can definitely control your business. You can plan ahead—know What Some Users Say: e when to retrench or expand. Month-end trial balances are elimin- “*_ always has the figures ready.” “It is an easy matter to make out an Income Tax Report or a financial iternent because Burroughs always has the figures ready and all that is necessary is to opy them fr m the ledger sheets onto the report."’ — W.R. Peterson Company Nashua, New Hamps! “simply a matter of copying.’ “The Burroughs Simplified Acc« g Plan gives us every-day fig nation about our busine ever had before. This year first time, making out an income ax report will be easy t is simpl a matter of copying the d we have on our General Ledger ynto the Income T aily td Builders Supply Co Grand Rapids, Michiga “—no trouble with our Income Tax Report.” “With the Burroughs Simplified Accounting Plan we will have no trouble with our Income Tax Report next March, for our books are up-to- date every day. We could make an Income Tax Report any day in the year with little effort." —Miller and Reiter Sandusky, Ohio *— just the information we need.” “The Burroughs Simplified Ac- counting Plan has not only lessened our labor greatly, but gives the in- formation required by the Income Tax laws, and we have discovere that the figure-facts this law re- ires are just the information we t n our business profitably.” —H L. ™ inn Lumber Company Ames, lowa ated. A proved daily balance is instantly available. Complete financial statements for your banker can be made out as fast as the figures can be read. Customers’ statements are ready for mailing on the first of the month. Collections are speeded. Cash capital is increased. Goodwill is built up! And the Burroughs systems of accounting are adaptable to any kind and size of business. There is a plan to exactly meet your special requirements, whatever your business. Stop guessing. Stop worrying. Banish the worry of income tax time. Phone the nearest Burroughs man and ask him to show you what Burroughs can do for you. Or write us direct. No obligation is incurred. BURROUGHS ADDING MACHINE COMPANY 6581 SECOND BLVD., DETROIT, MICHIGAN Burroughs Adding Machine of Canada, Limited, Windsor, Ontario Sales and Service Offices in all the Principal Cities of the World | Burroughs ADDING- BOOKKEEPING-~ CALCULATING AND LING MACHINES

Page 175

(Continued from Page 170) The above was by no means the most curious working of the censorship with which I was concerned, that honor being re- served for a city in Canada. We were doing a play there for a tryout in stock with a week’s rehearsals. A man had to be shot on the stage in the first act, and on Monday I asked the manager of the house if a pistol permit was necessary. He said that it was, but that he had merely to go through the formality of asking the chief of police for it. On Friday I asked him again about it and he told me not to worry; but on the following Monday afternoon, the day of the opening performance, he came to me in great alarm, said the chief of police had refused him and asked me to go with him to try to get the man to charge his mind. One might as well have talked to a rock. He informed me that for three years there had been a local law that no lethal weapon could be used on the stage, that he had enforced it in vaudeville, even going so far as to refuse permission for a magician to use a toy pistol to shoot a flag out of its mouth, and that now he was going to en- force it on the legitimate stage also. Absolutely to no purpose, we pointed out that he should have notified the manager of his change of policy and that it would cause the theater to close and throw both the company and the employes out of work. He was adamant, and finally said that he wished to hear no more from an arrogant Yankee, meaning me, who was then, still am and have been from birth, a British subject. On our return to the theater we were met by Mrs. Lillian Trimble Bradley, then the general stage director for the Broadhurst Theater, and who was there to produce the play. She told us she hac. just learned that a fortnight previously an English actor had killed three men at each performance for an entire week. Armed withthi_ information, and ournum- bers reénforced by Mrs. Bradley, we went once more to the attack. Feeling our foot- hold somewhat more secure, we fought more vigorously. Why the Englishman rather than us? Were we being selected for the victims be- cause we were from the States? Why this sudden change of front? An Unwitting Matchmaker Finally Mrs. Bradley said: ‘‘If the work that I have done in preparing and rehears- ing this play is to be thrown away, I shall tell my story not only in New York but also tonight to every paper here. I wonder how it will look in the morning when it ap- pears that the chief of police has for three years deliberately refrained from enforcing the law on one side while enforcing it on the other, and that now for no reason except that we are Americans he suddenly reverses himself and makes up his mind to enforce it on both sides. It will certainly be front- page stuff and good for two columns, and unless I am greatly mistaken someone is going to look ridiculous.” The chief wavered and then compromised, and this is what we were allowed to do: We were allowed to have a wooden pistol made exactly like a real one and painted like a real one so that no one in the audience could suspect th_t it was not arealone. When the man was to be killed the actor was to point this wooden but realistic pistol, the prop- erty man in the wings was to fire a real pistol and the man was to fall at the sound of the shot. Fantastic though it may seem, that is what was agreed upon and what was done. Some four years ago, having very im- portant business with the British consul in Havana, I sent in my card. The vice consul came to see me, asked if I was the Broadhurst who wrote What Happened to Jones and I admitted that I was. He then said: “I am greatly indebted to you. In fact, I am under eternal obligations.” I showed my mystification and he con- tinued: ‘‘When I was at college we gave an amateur performance of your play. Some young ladies, at our request, came to play the girls’ parts, among them being one whom I had never met. She is now my wife and she’s the finest woman in all the world and I’m the happiest man. But | should probably never have met her if it had not been for your play. Now you can understand why I say that I’m grateful.” At this he took my hand enthusiastically and shook it fervently. I was, of course, extremely happy that I had been, even in- directly, so felicitous a matchmaker, but | often wondered what would have happened to me if the result had been the opposite. There is a proverb about a rule working | both ways. After the run of Jones in London, I re- visited England for the first time. The voyage was without any marked incident, but the first thing I saw when anything on land became discernible was a poster an- nouncing that Jones was playing in Liver- pool that week. Like Father, Like Son Arriving at Walsall, I called a cabman, gave him my parents’ address and told him to drive me there. The conversation re- sulting was as follows: “Mr. Broadhurst lives there, don’t he, an “Tear “Might I ask if you’re any relation of theirs?” “I’m their son.” ““Are you George Broadhurst who used to go to the Blue Coat School?” “To” “Don’t you remember me, sir?”’ ‘I’m very sorry, but really I don’t.” “Why, I’m Henry Smith, who used to be in the same class as you, sir.” ‘“*How are you, Henry?” “Oh, I'm all right, sir.” “And how do you like it as far as you've gol ae “Oh, it ain’t so bad, sir. It keeps me out in the hopen a good deal and the ’orse does all the work.” After a loving and hearty greeting from my father and mother I went to see my old schoolmaster, and it was then that I re- ceived my first real shock, for I found that he wore a dickey—that is, a paper shirt front—with brass studs in it and that he pronounced the word “‘wasp” as though it rimed with “‘hasp.” Nearly every boy I had known was doing just what his father had done. The butch- er’s son was at the meat stand, the grocery man’s son was behind the counter, the cob- bler’s son at the last; and I wondered, with a sinking feeling at the heart, if, had I re- mained, I would have been content to spend my life in a rut which someone had previ- ously made for me. I had expected to remain at home for about a fortnight, and in spite of the drabness of the town and the fact that I was entirely out of touch with everyone I had known, I stayed there for a week, when I wired a friend who had gone on to London to telegraph me that I was wanted there immediately. Next day I went to pay my first visit to that capital. One day, in the Eccentric Club in Lon- don, an actor whispered to another, ‘I’m sailing for New York on Saturday,” and gave him the name of the ship. “Rather sudden, isn’t it?”’ said the man addressed. “This is in the strictest confidence, of sir course.” “ Certainly.” “In the States there is a musical play called The Wizard of Oz and in it is a comedian named Fred Stone who is playing a straw man and who does a wonderful scarecrow dance. Well, I've been engaged for the next pantomime and the governor is sending me over to see the dance so that I can do it in the panto. He’s paying my expenses too.” “You're in luck “T should say so, especially as it not only gives me a nice holiday but enables me to ( ( ( ( ( THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SAILING through work! PS aaa —aaa «& Scents your sea of corre- spondence! Fast, free, exhila- rating —this smooth, easy pen! Every letter, card, clearly reflects your own personality, if you ve used the personal pen, your own fresh Esterbrook evcry With a fresh Esterbrook your good- will has a clear direct channel of ex- pression. It /zves, there on the paper, because you re new pen, a quick, clean Esterbrook using a At the office, at home and at school, avoid waste and strain by using plenty of new Esterbrooks. Esterbrooks sta fresh longest. Have them handy all the time! Camden, N. J ,Ltd., Toronto Esterbrook Steel Pen Co {gt The Brown Bros TRUE ECONOMY, ALWAYS A FRESH stertrook FREE ) \ Keo 1x ‘ ) I NX 7RR Send me | shrank ¢ Handwriting » help me the pen best suited tor ind— also mple of Pen No. 788 ) I enclose 15 ts, fo 12 Most I P Wi WRITE NAME AND ADDRESS IN THE MARGIN BELOW ) How you SAVE by al- ways using a fresh pen YOU AVOID | . } Sp Lette 4 Mistakes in Figuring Ni ieundasete B Ir pressiot I 1 Docun 8 Letters 4 —s Startling differences in pens revealed by the microscope!

Page 176

SATURDAY — Dh ME MA, H Kreolite Quality Withstands the Test Steel parts when taken from heat-treating fur- naces at a white heat are frequently dropped. To prove the fire-resisting qualities of Kreolite Wood Block Floors, a white-hot steel part was purposely dropped and allowed to remain over twenty minutes. When the part was removed the floor showed that it had not been marred or damaged in any way. Just one more reason why Kreolite Wood Block Floors laid with the tough end grain uppermost actually outlast the factory. Our Kreolite Engineers will make recommenda- tions without obligation on your part. THE JENNISON-WRIGHT COMPANY, TOLEDO, OHIO Branches in All Large Cities | no mistake.”’ EVENING POST see my people too. They live near New York.” “Yes, I know.” “‘See you again before I sail.” “Right-o! And congratulations!” The actor sailed as had been arranged, f | went to visit his family, who lived in a suburb of New York, proceeded to Phila- delphia, where The Wizard of Oz was play- ing, stood in line at the box office and was touched on the shoulder by a man who said, ‘‘ May I see you a minute?” ‘*Me?” asked the actor in surprise. “You,” was the rejoinder; “‘and there is The actor, greatly puzzled, stepped out of line and the other man said: ‘‘I am the business manager of the play here, and Mr. Hamlin, who is its owner but who is in New York, has in- structed me to tell you that we know who you are, who sent you, and that you are here for the purpose of copying Mr. Stone’s dance so that you may incorporate it in a London pantomime. We also know that if we stop you from going in now you will undoubtedly, in some way, manage to see the play either here or elsewhere; and so I have a pass for you made out for you in your name and a coupon for a seat in the fourth row on the aisle, which I give you with Mr. Hamlin’s compliments, as, having come so far to see it, he wishes you to enjoy the performance as much as possible.” The manager gave the pass to the actor, who gasped, gurgled, took it and stammered his thanks. The manager added, “Of | course, I am not going to give you our opin- j | ion of the ethics of the transaction, and we want both your manager and yourself to realize that you are not getting away with anything.” The actor saw the play and the dance was done in the pantomime in due course. Secret:-Service Work Aside from the shock he must have had when informed by the manager that his errand was known, the actor must have puzzled many times over the experience and have wondered how his secret became known to the persons most interested, but who were 3000 miles away. If he reads this he will learn how simple it was. I was sitting near the man to whom he spoke and his whisper was audible. When he left the club I ascertained his name and that he was an American who had played November 6, 1926 for a long time in London, and I cabled the information to Hamlin, who was a friend of mine. Hamlin wired his thanks and asked me to cable him if the man actually sailed. This I did. From the minute the actor reached New York he was under surveillance. A detec- tive picked him up at the pier and trailed him to his home. When he bought his ticket for Philadelphia the detective was next in line. They rode in the same car. The detective followed the actor to his hotel, saw him register and go to his room. The detective then telephoned to the the- ater, waited while the actor dined, followed him to the playhouse, and when he stood in line pointed him out to the manager. International Appropriations This international appropriating of ideas still exists. A few seasons ago two of the most important of New York’s annual re- views both had as one of their biggest scenes a number of partially draped girls hanging from a large iron ring suspended from the ceiling and forming a human chandelier, which scene neither had copied from the other, but which both had copied from a production current in Paris—but not so unabashedly as was the case in the days of which I am writing. At that time a prominent English play- wright visited New York yearly for the sole purpose of seeing the productions there with the idea of ascertaining what ideas he could find and use in the forthcom- ing London productions without infringing the copyright laws, for though one can copyright plays and the scenes in the plays, one cannot copyright ideas. So brazen was he, and so well known was the object of his pilgrimage, that one year, knowing of his arrival, a number of us who had plays run- ning in New York at the time sent him a round robin saying that as we knew the rea- son of his coming and wished to save him all the trouble possible, if he would let us know which of our plays he was interested in we would send him the manuscripts of them and so save him the necessity of spending his time at the theaters. The document must have left him unperturbed, for he not only made his rounds that season but for several later ones. Editor’s Note—This is the third of a series of articles by Mr. Broadhurst. The next will appear in an early issue WHEN MANKIND WAS YOUNG (Continued from Page 19) ““Sacrilege! Sacrilege! Slay! Slay! Sacrilege!’’ It was a bloodcurdlingly fierce vociferation from a multitude of throats. She continued her progress, did not turn her head, though a sudden involuntary anguish gripped her. And then she heard the rapid hoof beats of the chariot horses driven by her father, the rer; heard, witha peculiar, not-to-be-acknowledged relief, his great battle voice thundering above the clamor: “Back! Back! Sacred are the ambassa- dors! Beware the vengeance of the gods to whom ambassadors are sacred! Sacred are the ambassadors! Back! Back! Or I smite!” The clamor stilled suddenly. In that comparative quiet she heard again, now a little distance behind her, her father’s voice: “And thou, O chieftain, shalt expiate thy sacrilege! Between thy people and | mine shall war be decreed in the council | } | | | | | irresistible this day! Go now, swiftly, while thy sacredness is inviolate. Tomorrow at dawn shall the fetiales hurl into thy lands the battle spear of Mars!” Once more Rhea heard Flavia and the novice chanting behind her the litany to Vesta, heard it mingled with the sonorous invocation of the Flamen Dialis calling the dread curse of war upon their enemies, magically compelling the Roman gods to intervention. And then she heard the jingling trot of the king’s chariot, hastening to catch up in the sacred little procession which had never faltered in its pace, heard the horses pulled again to a walk in rear of her. Thus, holding high the sacred fire and followed by the excited multitude, Rhea led the procession down the hillside through the village of circular wattled huts, to the precisely similar primitive hut which was the residence of the goddess, adjacent to the scarcely larger hut where dwelt her father, the rer. There was war in the land. Many days previously the warriors had marched out of the hilltop village; the plebes on foot—each man armed with iron-pointed lance, round shield, and short iron stabbing sword under the primitive standards, which were wisps of hay tied to spears; the compara- tively few patrician cavalry—the celeres, “swift ones’’—-dashing about on their horses; the whole led by the rex in his chariot. With them had marched also con- tingents from the villages scattered over the Latin plain—which now is the Cam- pagna—up to the Alban Mountains; with them had marched, likewise, the Sabine warriors from the closely adjacent inde- pendent community on the Quirinal Hill; for all the members of the loose confederacy of tribes south of the Tiber were prompt to (Continued on Page 176

Page 177

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST nt \¥ ' _ ; US1C and ong Sone of the 104 of some of the sparkle, 1! e it linger on ; Christmas the merriment, the fun fim Mi It will the whole year through—if there } 1s music in your home. Music that invites J the family to gather round to sing the good old songs and the infectious new ones to roll up the rugs and dance nd that, of course, means nothing else than music that you play YOURSEL! ou need not know a note to have such j genie in your home today The Gulbransen Registering Piano has now made that unnecessary The patented Registering feature (found in the \ } Y $530 SusurBAN Mope. Other Registering Pianos, playable by hand or r ( $450; sl, $595; White House, $700 Gulbransen Uprights, plaved by hand only: Style W, eS, $350; Style C, $295 Gulbr: to reg Cx pres i In your home the year round. insen Registering Piano only ) « { t tl ur individual tot ister cxactlvy vour individual tou sion, vour mood It gives you all the pleasure of hand It enables vou to play wit h all the na and beauty of hand playing Tha Gulbr: t is why there is no other piano inscn selling piano in the world There includ ocvera | acl value beautiful appearance guarantee of the world’s largest plranos is a complete line of Gulbransen ing every type of piano for the 1 models are illustrated here 1 Gulbransen Piano represents th in tonal quality responsive act | ach bears For your protection th ULBRAN PIA N S O 4 4 cn, vour \ small cash payment will place any instru ment you choose 1n your home this Christmas That is why it 1s today the ™ - we dontheb 1 ack at the factory stampe ooaee S bseq icnt payments to suit your convenience Allowance will be made on your present piano or other musical instrument largest NOTI from your Gulbransen Registering Piano use Music Rolls new and wonderfully | been produced To obtain incomparably superior results Gulbransen These personalized different A.G There are hundreds to choose from music rolls - have after years of study by pL ATIC 1, nome Gulbransen N E > $785 GuLBRANSEN GRAND Galbra Gra r Good Times with R ' Your Gulbranser FR E BOOK ‘ a Company, Dept. 1]

Page 178

(Continued from Page 174)} cease their internecine feuds and unite joy- ously in war against the hated Etruscans. In the village upon the Palatine, save for the small garrison left in the stronghold, only women, children and old men re- mained. Dawn after dawn, as Rhea and one or the other of her sacred companions came up from the sacred spring where alone they might draw the water for the ritual daily cleaning of the goddess’ hut, they saw those women gazing from the hillside in the hope that this new day might reveal a mes- senger speeding back with news of battle. Up the left bank of the tawny river the warriors had marched, crossing it where it might be forded, and then striking boldly through the dread Ciminian forest to take in flank:the lands of the Raseni. No word had come from them. Day after day the patricians too old for war sat in council near the hut of the absent king, wagging their gray beards at one another in involved reminiscences of old-time vic- tory and defeat, acrimoniously disputing whether or not to call in the herds and be- take themselves to the strongholds on the summit of the hill. Day after day the Flamen Dialis--who might never leave the village, lest his magic potency be with- drawn from it—made incantations which seduced the gods of the enemy and re- enforced theirown. Day afterdaytheSacred Virgins fed the fire of Vesta with hallowed oak sticks, with cakes of salted dough, poured on it libations of wine and oil, main- taining the fertility of fields and vineyards which now were empty of their men. Night after night; as Rhea and her companions lay down to sleep by the ever-flickering sacred flame, they heard anxious women making private spells for the safety of their husbands and lovers. On one of those nights Rhea dreamed vividly that a captive doomed to sacrifice cast himself for sanctuary at her feet, and, being reprieved, revealed himself star- tlingly and dazzlingly as the war god Mars. She told the Flamen Dialis of her dream of extreme prophetic importance were the dreams of the Vestals—and he interpreted it solemnly to the congregated multitude of old men, women and children. They shouted with joy at the omen he deduced from it. Clearly it portended that the in- vincible war god definitely took up his resi- dence among them, turning into victory _ any possible initial defeat, henceforth and forever banishing their dread. By the command of the Flamen a sacri- fice was offered up to him, and a deputa- tion was sent across the swampy valley—to be known to later ages as the Forum Ro- manum-——with somewhat treacherous gifts to the Sabine Mars on the Quirinal Hill. Haply the god might be so seduced by them as te quit his present divided alle- giance and install himself exclusively, to their great profit, on the Palatine. The old men—the senatores—met in full council under the great sacred fig tree, a shoot from which would, after the yet- distant union of the Sabines and Romans into one community, be transplanted to that Forum for a veneration that would endure as long as ancient Rome. They de- creed that the auspicious day should be marked in red on the post where the days were numbered, and voted grateful special donations of wine and oil to the sanctuary of Vesta. The children guarding the sheep and goats on the slopes of the Palatine shouted exultantly across the broad turbid river to the Etruscan land, so that the strange earringed seafarers in the small barks passing up it ceased from rowing, and, believing the warriors to have returned, regretfully relinquished their businesslike intention of presently, when with empty holds they came downstream again, sacking the scarcely defended fortress on the hill. By a coincidence the omen was verified. On the morning of the next day a horseman came galloping from between the vine- covered hills that were to be the palace- built hills of Rome; came in a cloud of dust down into the valley; came, waving his spear, up the rough track to the village on THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the Palatine. A minute or two more, and his hard-ridden steed passed with earth- scattering hoofs between the wattled huts. Instantly, while the dogs barked and the geese and hens scuttled out of the way, there was a sudden excited concourse of women running, with little children dragged half off their feet, a sudden clamor. The messenger pulled up by the great fig tree where the senatores sat in session, pushed his way to them through the crowd. A moment of suspense, and then, in that deafening confusion of voices, the news an- nounced by the white-bearded senior of the council, solemnly if totteringly erect upon his feet, was guessed rather than heard, was passed from mouth to mouth. Victory! An Etruscan force, pursuing the Latin war- riors after their first easy raids, had been drawn into an ambush and utterly de- stroyed. The rer was now marching home- ward, leading many carts laden with spoils, leading, bound to his chariot, a sufficient number of captives for the triumph and the sacrifice. Under the brilliant blue sky the village resounded with wild yells of delight. The warriors were still far off, however. Another day was yet to elapse—a feverish day in which the women decked the huts with flowers, and the old men and the few slaves, captives grudgingly spared from previous wars, slew the many pigs that would be required for the great feastings of the return—before, marching in spear- bristling columns over the saddle of the hills, preceded by the readily identifiable white-horsed chariot of the king, they glad- dened the eyes that peered anxiously for them from the steep Palatine. Great were the rejoicings as the com- munity prepared for the triumph—that ceremonial reéntry of the victor which, in the republican magnificence of later Rome, was conceded only by the senate, and for which a general might have to wait outside the city for as long as three years, even as Lucullus, the conqueror of Armenia, waited. Not yet, however, had the Roman people expelled its kings. In that primi- tive age the rex entered by his own illimit- able authority, aud iis triumph was not so much a personal honor to him as a thanks- giving to the god he incarnated. Rhea stood, white-robed, with her sister Vestals outside the sacred hut where burned the everlasting fire of the goddess, awaiting the passage of that procession whose dis- tant noise was already audible. The spec- tators, pushing and jostling as they massed themselves on each side of the track between the conical-roofed houses, left awe- somely a clear space in their vicinity. Al- ready, long since, the senatores, in their best robes and carrying the green branches of trees, had marched pompously down that track to meet the victor on the confines of the village. Already the last child had been dragged clear of the roadway by its exas- perated mother. The babble of voices sud- denly hushed. From down the hill, their origins still out of sight, came the noise of cow horns, the shrill shrieking of reed pipes, and with that barbaric music a tumult of wild acclamatory shouts. The triumph was approaching. Round a bend of the track it came. First marched the senatfores, chanting a tradi- tional hymn of victory, oak-leaf chaplets on their heads, their long gray beards inter- twined with flowers, waving their branches as they sang. There followed a pair of white oxen, their necks garlanded almost to the ground, their horns tipped with gold, their heads turning bewilderedly from side to side as they were driven along to the sacrifice of which they were yet ignorant. And then, heaped on a long train of clumsy ox-drawn wagons, came the plunder: arms and armor, rich fabrics, jars of pottery and metal, disgraced idols from villages that had been sacked. Behind them the tumult of shouts almost obliterating the wild cacophony of fifes and cow horns was suddenly quite near, was a deafening vociferation of enthusiasm. Four white horses harnessed to the laurel- festooned chariot where he stood erect, the rex passed slowly and superbly through his people, his oak-leaf golden crown flashing in the sunshine, his great battle spear lifted in the hand that had smitten so powerfully in the fight, his grayish-tawny beard flowing over the ceremonial robe that was the robe of Jupiter himself, draped upon occasions around his image. Sacredly removed from human emotions though she was, Rhea gazed with a fond pride upon that stern father from whose household she had been severed since the age of ten, was thrilled by the enthusiasm clamorous around her. Surely greater warrior never lived! Nobly did he incar- nate the god of Rome; far distant was yet the day when, failing in his virile strength, he would be ruthlessly slain, as his divinely royal predecessors had been slain, as those half-legendary successors on the threshold of history—Romulus and Tatius, Tullus Hostilius and Tarquin and Servius—were hereafter to be slain, lest their human senility should enfeeble the god with whom their lives were linked. The augurs of the rex followed behind that chariot, each carrying in one hand the crook-headed staff that might have neither knot nor twist, and in the other the wooden cage holding the sacred hens whose be- havior determined every act, political or military, of the omnipotent king. In rear of them, their passace evoking a frenzy of vindictive yells, came, guarded by spearmen, the miserable captives who had been temporarily spared for the triumph. Their sufferings were almost at an end. Immediately the procession reached the stronghold at the summit of the hill their lives would be offered in sacrifice to Jupiter, even as, to the end of the Roman Empire, such captives were ritually butchered sometimes in thousands—when the tri- umph arrived at the Capitol which had replaced the Palatine arr. Wretched, hag- gard, blood-stained and foot-weary, those hobbling alien-visaged prisoners were prodded mercilessly onward by the spear- men while the multitude howled its vituper- ations. Rhea contemplated them serenely, her beautiful face impassive under the hood of the white robe; not conceivable was pity for the vanquished enemy. And these Etruscans she hated. Had not one of them sacrilegiously affronted Mater Vesta in that never-to-be-forgotten insult offered to herself? She watched them pass, limply hopeless, on their way to death. The god- dess was avenged. Suddenly, in that onward-marching pro- cession, there was an angry shout, a brief scuffle, and then, in a swift, startling dart from the ranks, a captive dashed headlong toward her, flung himself prone—with a wild ery of “‘Sanctuary!’’—almost at her feet, so close that her shadow fell upon him. Rhea stood paralyzed, as though by that desperate action she had been turned sud- denly to chilled stone, as though her heart in one brusquely acute spasm had ceased to function; for, in that instant when the face of the captive had been visible to her, she had recognized him-—-the young chief, handsome as Mars himself, who had mocked her sacredness before all the people! Around her there was a confusion of many-voiced clamor. She became aware of fierce-faced spearmen, their upraised hands conventionally warding off closely direct sight of her, reverently imploring her to move, to turn away her gaze. For while her shadow fell upon that doomed captive he might not be slain, neither might her re- ligiously pure eyes witness the shedding of blood. She glanced down at the prone figure whose head almost touched her feet, his half-nude body still heaving convul- sively with his desperate effort. He made no attempt to look up at her. Beyond, on the track, the triumphal procession had halted, was beseeching her insistently, harsh men’s voices uniting with those of the women around her, to retire into the house of Vesta. Still she stood as though paralyzed, rigid, a strange emotion troubling her to the depths, bewildering her startled faculties. Superstitious by vocation, in a flash of false November 06, 1926 lucidity she found sanction for what was suddenly instinctive. Her dream! Her dream come true: In an impulse that was curiously automatic she raised her arm. In- stantly there was silence. “He shall be spared!’ she cried—was it herself that cried?—in her clear young voice. ‘ Was not this foretold in the sacred dream? He shall be spared that Mars shall dwell among us!” There was a stir, a murmur of awed assent from the multitude; a babble of voices explaining to the credulous warriors that dream which the Flamen Dialis had expounded—that dream which so miracu- lously had proved veridical. Supersti- tiously the crowd fell back. Against that decree of the Vestal there was no appeal. It was as if the goddess herself had spoken. To Rhea, indeed, it seemed as though the goddess herself were inspiring her, so in- stantaneously decisive came her speech. “*Let no man harm him!”’ she cried again. “He shall be sacred as a slave to Vesta! Rise, O stranger whom the goddess hath spared!”’ Almost she expected—as the hushed throng more than half expected—to see him rise suddenly transfigured, dazzlingly and formidably, as the god Mars himself. It was not so. He rose only as a half-naked young man, his skin yet torn and bleeding with the wounds of battle, who piously made the gesture of averted gaze as he moved to sanctuary behind the three white- robed Vestals. And then—while the crowd told one an- other with superstitious awe that this was wondrously he who had affronted Vesta, doomed now in divine justice to be forever the slave of the insulted goddess— with re- newed wild blasts from the cow horns, with a shrieking of pipes, the procession moved onward once more, rank after rank of spear- armed footmen following the prancing flower-garlanded horses of the patricians, chanting exultantly as they marched those scurrilous songs which throughout the his- tory of Rome were licensed to soldiers par- ticipating in the triumph. Even as they marched, spread up and down the excited throngs the rumor of the marvel that had occurred. It was the festival of the Floralia—that week-long, primevally ancient Maytide carnival which continued to be a scandal to the few puritan inhabitants of Rome down to imperial times. For six days al- ready the great field immediately under the Palatine—centuries before it became classi- cal as the Circus Maximus; it was the tra- ditional sports ground of the primitive community dwelling on the hill—had been the scene of horse races and foot races, of wrestlings and mimic combats with blunted sword and spear; for if human beings put forth their uttermost energies in these sacred games, would it not necessarily stimulate the powers of nature to do like- wise? So, at least, believed the naive rus- tics of all Europe for many thousands of years, until a nineteenth-century universal education by petty pedants taught them to believe seriously in nothing whatever. For six days already, on open-air trestle stages surrounded by flower-garlanded crowds, fraternities and sisterhoods of mummers had mimed, with assured magical effect, the myths of gods and goddesses; somewhat scabrous if uncompromisingly sincere performances which, amid the cog- nate people of ancient Greece, were to de- velop into the sublime drama of Aischylus and Euripides and give the world a new art. For six days there had been feastings and love-makings, laughter and shouting, danc- ing and song and a mutually destructive manifold music of horns and pipes, in the great meadow where stood the tall poles festooned with flowers. Overhead the sun shone brilliantly from a crystalline blue sky On the green hillside the wild rosebushes were masses of pink and white bloom. Within the still-uncleared oak thickets on the unoccupied Aventine the birds sang, and semisacred wolf cubs rolled over and over (Continued on Page 180

Page 179

J portsmen / eV a , a Taw ty Poe o This message is for you men who love firearms; who de- light in their shining barrels and well-oiled mechanism- their perfect balance—the delicate pressure of finger on trigger—the sharp bark and sudden recoil—and above all, the satisfaction of a clean hit! Are you taking full advantage of the means provided by science for the preservation of your “pets”? Are you using 3-in-One regularly? If not, corrosion and friction may be causing irreparable damage that only time will show. For 32 years 3-in-One has been a very important part of the equip- ment of hunters and other marksmen. Prominent firearms manu- facturers think so well of it that they pack a sample with every gun and pistol. Army and Navy Small Arms Manuals recommend it. Probably the largest single order for packaged oil was placed by the U.S. Government during the World War—and it specified 3-in-One. 3-in-One is a compound of high grade oils, scientifically blended to provide exactly the properties needed for keeping firearms in A-1 condition—properties not found in any ordinary oil or grease. There are many oils, but only one 3-in-One—many imitations in bottles and cans that might be mistaken for 3-in-One. To make doubly sure that you get the original, ask for 3-in-One. Then look for the Big Red “One” on the label. Sold everywhere in all kinds of good stores—sporting goods, hardware, drug, grocery and general stores. 3-oz. Handy Oil Cans; 1-oz., 3-oz. and 14-pint bottles. The Handy Cans are most convenient; the }4-pint bottles most economical. | ‘RI | ys Generous Sample, Special Shooters’ Circular and Dictionary of Uses. e@ Make your request on a postal or use the coupon at right. 32 Years of Continuous Service Prevents Rust- OILS - Cleans & Polishes SATURDAY EVENING POST All firearms will last longer and shoot better if 3-in-One is applica freq sently and liberall: inside and out. It pe etrates the pores of the metal, forming a prot tive moisture-proof him that lasts Also oils the firing and ejector mech- anisms perfectly On cleaning rag and swab, 3-in-One is inval- uable. Use liberally and save your gun. Revolvers and automatics won’t jam if clean- ed and oiled with 3-in-One. Use liberally and preserve the “arm.” Air rifles, too, need 3-in-One to oil the mecha- nism and prevent rust. Use liberally FREE SAMPLE AND SHOOTERS’ CIRCULAR a

Page 180

Front view Front and back views of a Genasco Latite Shingle showing the “key’’—invisible on the completed roof—that locks each shingle tightly to those un- lerneath. This is the exclusive ature that makes Genasco La- e Shingles so well adapted for ying over old, worn-out wood ngies. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ored a Oo , , ee 7) RBM pis 04 Hit Lf m4 ~ ate wee CW Latite Shingles Genasco Latite Shingles owe their great dura- bility—therefore their long life—to protective coatings of Trinidad Lake Asphalt Cement. Streets paved with this remarkable material have withstood the wear and tear of traffic for nearly a half century with little or no need of repairs. Top and bottom layers of this asphaltic ce- ment—Jike armor on a battleship—make Genasco Latite Shingles particularly immune to damage by weather. The top layer is not only an impregnable de- fense against the attacks of weather, but it serves as an anchor for the surface of granulated slate that gives beauty and fire-resistance to a Genasco Roof. The bottom layer—known as the famous Genasco “ Sealbac’’—adds years of life to Genasco Latite Shingles. It protects them against con- densation—seals in the waterproofing saturant— and tends to bind each shingle closer to the others. No matter how you lay Genasco Latite Shingles —over old wood shingles or over new boards— you get a dependable, storm-tight, fire-resisting roof that will safeguard your property against weather for years. Reroofing the ‘“‘Genasco Way’’—over the old shingles—has many advantages. You save the cost of tearing off the old roof. You avoid the clut ter of broken shingles and old nails. And you don’t gamble with the weather while putting on the new roof. So low in cost are Genasco Latite Shingles that you can lay them on a barn, stable or garage just as economically as on a fine home. Made in three natural unfading colors—red, green and blue- black. November 6, 1/926

Page 181

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST protected ltke battleships Genasco Roll Roofing—like Genasco Latite Shingles—is armored on both sides with protective layers of Trinidad Lake Asphalt Cement. Also like Genasco Latite Shingles, it is built on a foundation of asphalt-saturated felt—a tough, rugged rag felt having great tensile strength and power of absorbing and holding the waterproofing saturant. Genasco Roll Roofing has proven, in all parts of the world, that it will not blister under heat, crack under cold or rot under dampness. And when laid with Kant-Leak Kleets (a full supply packed in each roll), the seams are absolutely wind-tight and water-tight. Genasco Roll Roofing is made in two styles— smooth-surface and slate-surface. The latter is highly fire resisting and is supplied in three colors— red, green and blue-black. The ideal roofing for farm and industrial buildings! (GFOMDSCO Roll Rooting Other Genasco Protective Products Genasco Sealbac Shingles Genasco Asphalt Mastic (Individual and Strip) (For flooring) Genasco Standard Trinidad Genasco Paints Built-up Roofing (Roof Coating, Asphalt (For factories, schools, ho- Fibre Coating, Industrial tels, office buildings, et« ) Paint, Acid-Proof Paint, Genasco Mineral Rubber Battery Paint. etc.) (Used in rubber com- . Ge nasco pounding) Genasco Waterproofing As s phalts, Felts and Fabrics Genasco Stucco Base (For waterproofing sub- Gilsonite ways, reservoirs, base- (Used in the moulding ments, etc.) industry, aswellasinin Genasco Asphalt Putty sulating products, baking (Roofing Cement) enamels, etc.) Insulating and Sheathing Papers All leading builders, building-supply dealers, roofers and carpenters supply Genasco Roofings and other Genas Protective Products. Write to us for illustrated folder: The Barber Asphalt Company Philadelphia New York, Chicago, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Kansas City, San Francisco +] | ‘ Genasco SMOOTH suRFACE ROOF ™~ ather and wear BOTH SIDES , Nwoap LAKE ASPRALT | | cee" oo THE BARBER ASPHNT ™. ed from heat USE no HOOKS hong STAND ON ENO nal & a COMPANY _ Pr amar ene

Page 182

(Continued from Page 176) one another like puppies at play. The whole animate world was happy, as per- force it must be; for was not this festive humanity deliberately stimulating it to be happy and productive by the spectacle of its own exuberant happiness? Rhea sat within the hut of Vesta, keep- ing her turn of vigil over the sacred eternal fire that never might be left unguarded. She was alone in that smoke-blackened in- terior, dark by contrast with the intensity of the sunshine visibie through the door- way. Her sister Vestals had availed them- selves of their privilege to walk abroad— preceded solemnly by a great bearded spearman of the rez, as in later times they would be preceded by a lictor—had gone to witness the merrymakings in the garlanded field. Twice had Rhea risen to tend the sacred fire since they had departed. Very quiet was it in this sun-baked village emptied of its inhabitants; even the dogs slept, and the geese that waddled around the huts found it too hot to quack. Rhea sat mo- tionless, the white hood thrown back from her redly auburn hair, her blue eyes dreamy in her beautiful face as she propped her chin upon a white hand whose elbow rested on her drawn-up knee. She sighed involun- tarily, and, becoming aware of it, smiled at her own melancholy. Why should she sigh? She had no desire to pass through those happy throngs, dividing awedly to make way for the Vestals, in the noisy meadow where her father, the rex, was surely fore- most in the feats of strength. She pre- ferred to be here, at her sacred duty, in solitude. For many days now she had found herself preferring solitude. Was it true that, as Flavia alleged, she was no longer the same, that she no longer laughed in the innocent merriment of the Vestals when, shielded by their sacred pri- vacy, they sat together making those gar- ments of the king which they alone might spin and weave and sew, lest inimical magic went to their fashioning? She had been angry with Flavia for saying it, even while her conscience misgave her, had _ill- temperedly chided Flavia again, a little later, when—not for the first time in these few weeks since the warriors had returned in triumph-—she had wondered whether that respited slave—Tarchen was his foreign-sounding , name—was not indeed the god Mars in patiently humble disguise? Such stories were told of the gods; al- most always, in fact, when they appeared among men, it was in some lowly shape—a shepherd or a cattleman—which made dramatic contrast with the divinity brusquely revealed at their departure. Fiavia knew many such legends in elab- orate detail, would recite them at length to the never-satisfied delight of the ten-year- old Lucretia. She had been exasperatingly insistent. How then did Rhea explain the exact fulfillment of the first half of her dream? Moreover, was he not—and the young girl’s voice had dropped to a whis- per—-visibly handsome as a god, bearing himself nobly, and not with the half-sullen, half-fawning servility of other slaves? Rhea had found herself strangely trem- bling at this interrogatory. Sharply she had bidden Flavia to cease this talk, which was unseemly among maidens of the god- dess, had glanced superstitiously at the sacred fire, to see whether it were affected by this wickedness. She regretted now that she had spared him. Better were it that he had been slain, as the other captives had been siain, in the great sacrifice to Jupiter, when her father, the rer, had stabbed them one after the other with his sharp short sword—that sacrifice of which she had heard the distant acclamations. Not the god Mars was he~-still lingered in her that disappointment when he had failed to make the instantaneous transformation— but an insolently sacrilegious youth whose auda- cious publicaffront haunted yet her memory with a peculiar and distressing vividness. In her ears rang persistently the insulting tone of his voice when he had dared to offer himself, before al] the people, as her lover. THE SATURDAY Her dream had been false. Had he been Mars, long ere this he would have revealed himself in dazzling majesty, would have snatched her—as would have been his di- vine right—from her vows, would have wedded her in those summary nuptials licensed by an infinity of old legends be- tween a Vestal and the god of war. He was but a hated Etruscan. She brooded in her hate for him as she sat alone in the semigloom of the hut. Should she not even now exercise her unquestioned potestas of life and death over her slave; bid him be dragged from among the slaves of the king where she had relegated him, be summarily slain? So perhaps would his voice, the vivid memory of his young handsome face, of his nude back heaving convulsively as he lay prone within her shadow, cease to haunt her. She sighed again. If only her dream had been fully true! Marvelous would have been the miracle. She saw him, arrogantly godlike, within the flashing metal of his great hel- met, his gilt cuirass blazing at her, as bear- ing high the sacred fire of Vesta she had approached him in conscious holiness; felt anew that sudden shock when his voice had come to her ears. Mater Vesta! She breathed a prayer for deliverance from this obsession. Something darkened the doorway of the hut. She glanced up, sprang to her feet, snatched, in that instant shock at her heart, the shielding white hood to cover her head. She could not speak, could only gasp. The figure within the doorway was Tarchen! In the sideways light his face was silhou- etted, touched on brow and nose and chin with a glint of that outdoors radiance, more handsome than even her memory of it. She saw his large dark glowing eyes fixed upon her. He stood superbly—not as a slave— his bare strong arms crossed on his breast. It seemed to Rhea that the earth heaved a little under her feet as she looked at him; she felt herself alarmingly deprived of physical strength. Magic? The dreaded Etruscan magic? Assuredly, she must have him slain—as soon as someone was within call—immediately the warriors returned from the field of games! She found a voice—an insincere voice that. was splen- didly disdainful: “What brings thee, slave? Thou hast a message?”’ He smiled at her, and she was frightened at that smile; so confident was it, so hand- some was his face in that gleam of his white teeth. “Yea, O Virgin!’’ Piquant was the for- eign accent with which he spoke her tongue. ‘A message from me to thee.’”’ He smiled again, more disturbingly than before. She felt herself quivering, terrifyingly weak at the knees. His insolence awakened a swift superstition in her. Perhaps, after all “By the eternal god thou callest Mars’’—she quivered again at the name “I swore thou shouldst be my beloved. Be- hold, I come for thee!”’ She flashed at him, genuinely outraged. “Silence, slave! For this sacrilege thou shalt die!”’ He remained arrogantly imperturbable. “No slave am I, O Virgin! I am a chief of arace of chiefs, and Mars, the war god, is my ancestor. No sacrilege is there between thee and me. If as a captive I flung myself at thy feet, it was that so I willed it. Dost think any of thy warriors could vanquish me in the fight? I gave myself captive into their hands that so I might come to thee. The great god Mars protected me even as his son. And now, behold! Thy warriors are absent at the place of games, and my warriors wait for thee and me beyond the river that divides our lands. Therefore, O Virgin, I come for thee!”’ She shrank back, superstitiously fascin- ated though she was. The son of Mars and Mars himself were not easily distinguish- able—it might be the euphemism under which the god disguised himself, lest she be destroyed utterly by his authentic splen- dor —but this flight from the community was startlingly at variance with the legend- ary procedure. EVENING POST “‘Across the river—to thy people?” she gasped at him. A deadly suspicion shot up in her. Surely, if this were indeed the god, he was an alien war god, protecting only alien folk! “Even so, O Virgin! Over my people shalt thou reign as queen. By Mars have I sworn it, O thou who settest my heart aflame, thou who wast destined to me be- fore ever our eyes met on that day which was the day when Mars laughed in the be- ginning of joyous war! Come then!’’ He reached out his strong hand, grasped her wrist, dragged her toward him. ‘‘Swiftly! My warriors wait, and I hear thy people re- turning from the place of games!” She threw herself back with all her strength, in the revulsion of a wild alarm. Never would the Mars of Rome drag a Vestal from the sacred precinct to a strange land; for with her would go something of the divine potency of the goddess to whom she was dedicated. This was buta deceiving Etruscan, working strange and enemy magics upon her. Her sacred public duty, become a part of herself through long years of meticulously performed rites, of aus- terely conscientious identification with it, leaped dominant in her in a fierce flame of patriotism. Roman she was, and only Roman! Never would she make desolate that sacred hearth. She fought desperately to free herself, heard, as she writhed in his grasp, footsteps beyond the hut. “Sacrilege!’’ she shrieked. ‘‘Sacrilege!’’ Those footsteps quickened instantly to a run. The next moment she saw in the door- way the burly figure of the spearman who had accompanied her sister Vestals. And even as she saw him the grip upon her was relaxed, and Tarehen, the slave, had sprung upon the warrior, had forced his head back until she heard the crack of his spine, had snatched the spear from the hand that dropped it as the body fell, had disap- peared. Tremblingly she looked toward the door- way where lay the lifeless warrior—the sight of that corpse would cost her a troublesome ceremony of purification—and a great awe overwhelmed her. Surely, only the god of war hims2lf could have so swiftly slain with his bare hands! That night, by the counsel of the Flamen Dialis and the direct command of her father, the rex—for the wildest rumors had spread among the people, and it was neces- sary that she should show herself in reassur- ance that she had not calamitously been spirited away—she visited the place of games. It was the culminating festival of torches and great bonfires which should magically assist the sun to rise in full splen- dor for the first day of May, invigorating him to blaze with harvest-ripening heat throughout the summer. Guarded by a reinforced band of spearmen, she moved, still trembling with the devastating emo- tions of the afternoon, among the multi- tude, which ceased its singing and dancing about the great fires, its running hither and thither with flame-streaming torches, to crowd reverently upon her passage. Fan- tastic was the scene—grotesquely traves- tied villagers, luridly illuminated by the brands they carried, silhouetted in the wild postures of the dance against the pyres vomiting bright swarms of sparks up to the moonless black sky; as far as she could see, a wild confusion of tossing, rapidly inter- mingling flares—and fantastic were the thoughts that raced through her fevered brain. Was it indeed the god who had so marvelously and swiftly slain; who had so miraculously and utterly vanished, despite the ferocious search for him? Everywhere around her she heard the awed whisperings which asserted the fact. The god, indeed? Presenting himself as an Etruscan, perhaps but to test her faith? And she had re- pulsed him, had resisted him' Never would he come again. He had vanished forever. She felt still upon her wrist the startlingly strong grip of his hand; saw vividly his godlike face, sun-limned as, superbly, he stood in the doorway; heard still the thrill- ing strangeness of his voice. Yet these were November 6, 1926 but memories, and the world was empty of him. Forever had he vanished. Intoler- able to her was the phantasmal crowd which surrounded her, congratulating each other that she was still among them, that still the flame burned upor the hearth of Vesta. Not for them the miraculous com- merce with gods. She craved desperately to be back in the hut of the goddess, to be alone in a sacred privacy, free to weep out her heart as she lay by the sacred fire. At last the ordeal was over. Surrounded by the spearmen, she returned toward the village on the hill, black against a sky spangled with stars. Already she was on the steep upward path, dark by contrast with the multiplied illumination they had quitted. Her heart was bleakly desolate, ached with the henceforth perpetual absence of that god. Her own sacredness was a dreary mockery to her. She thought of Gaia, clinging in the moment of discovery to the neck of her lover Fabius. Gaia was happier than she; she had loved, and she was dead. There was no more love in the world—no more divine love, which alone to her was either permissible or degired. Suddenly, at a bend in the path where a great bush bulked ahead of them, there was a startling movement, a sharp outcry. She saw the spearman ahead of her fling up his arms against the stars; saw him plunge headlong, ere she saw the shadowy figure with the glinting spear that had slain him, that now stabbed savagely at another of her guards, sent him lurching, with quick hands to his breast, to fall with a thud and a clash of metal; saw another of the spear- men stab vainly as he shouted, as he too fell sprawlingly; saw vivid in front of her, as some great fire blazed up momentarily in the meadow below, the godlike handsome features of him who had stood that day in her hut, of him who now raged an authen- tic death-dealing invulnerable god of war! She heard a masculine scream of supersti- tious terror; heard running feet in panic- stricken flight; sensed herself appallingly abandoned. The next moment she felt her- self snatched up helplessly—there was a strange ecstasy in that helplessness, a strange voluptuousness in that half- swooning, limp surrender—borne power- fully in strong arms through the night —— Not until long after the dawn had changed to brilliant sunshine was she found—among the close tree shadows of the thick oak forest on the uninhabited Aven- tine Hill. As the questing spearmen, headed by her father, the rex, came running up to her, she rose white against the sun- suffused green, an almost supernatural ap- parition. She was alone. Fiercely the spearmen sought for her companion. She laughed at them. “Ye seek in vain!’’ she cried. “Know ye not Mars, the war god, when he comes among ye?”’ She laughed again, hysterically. Her father, the rex, shrewdly stroked his grayish-tawny beard. He glimpsed a re- spite of some twenty years. “Surely the mighty death dealer was Mars, the terrible in battle!”’ he said de- cisively. ‘‘He came among us even as the prophetic dream portended. Lead her reverently, as befits her sacredness, to the house of Vesta. Of the beloved of the god shall be born the king my successor.” “ Some such actuality as this doubtless lay behind the miraculous births of those later but still half-legendary kings, Romulus, under whom the already long-existing Rome—centuries prior to 753 B. C. that site upon the Palatine was occupied seems to have moved forward into political power, and Servius Tullius, who first girdled with a stone wall the future mistress‘of the world, that mighty city whose laws are still the basic laws of our strangely different civilization. Both were born of a Vestal Virgin and a god. Editor’s Note—This is the ninth of a series of stories by Mr. Austin. The next will appear in an early issue

Page 183

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Your doctor will tell you and you well know, how essential it is to protect the delicate skin of your child—how imperative it is to avoid the use of harsh, irritating toilet tissue ' Another rT} in your home. Fibre Pr ly ¥ rolls ScotTissue is a soft, soothing, quickly-absorbent tissue doctors everywhere recommend. It will not i om ———— yi oe : ii ' harm the most sensitive skin. , . Wrapped dustproof in a big, economical roll. Say ' es t ' . ; —_ ’ “ScotTissue’”” to your dealer- —saves conversation. '] ea? PO sie Oa, ‘ — ae ee it 1 | HS a TRADE MARK REG us pare org OA C 4 ») : The absorbent so! HS. white Toilet pape! Scott Paper Company 009 Chester. Pa. U.S.A. CG a | >. HEETS —— 4x5 INCHES Saale ae = © S. P. Co. : : A> £2 15 cents a roll Gif _)\ aS Our Offer supply you, send us at

Page 184

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 ? rs $e soles. > 4 one * ouldnt “You RVIN HEAT! It’s being enjoyed in more than a million cars right now. You ought to have it in your car, too— for these cool, damp mornings and evenings, and for the cold winter days on the way. And there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have the comfort that Arvin gives—the steady stream of busy, bustling heat waves breezing up around you as you drive. The day you get your Arvin you'll say good-bye forever to the discomforts of cold-weather driving. You'll wonder why you didn’t get an Arvin long ago. All through the winter and the raw days of spring and again next fall and winter—as long as you drive your car—Arvin will be keeping you warm. And the price is so low that you'll feel amply repaid by the comfort you get in just one day’s driving in cold weather. 7 a P Tey Sure DoHeat!

Page 185

Drive a‘Warm Car, ‘Too ? No matter what make or model car you drive, there’s an Arvin Heater for it. Prices are as low as $1.75 for Fords and only $7.50 for the most expensive cars. All accessory dealers sell Arvins—under a direct from factory to user guarantee of complete satisfaction. Your dealer will tell you which Arvin Heater is best for your car. You or any garage man can install it. Then, Arvin Heat will never cost you another cent—and you'll always drive in a warm car. Get your Arvin today—and be prepared for any weather. INDIANAPOLIS PUMP & TUBE COMPANY Also Makers of Indianapolis and De Luxe Tire Pumps, Automobile Jacks, and Dan Patch Coaster Wagons for Children Arvin Heater Division Pump and Tube Division Jack Division Coaster Wagon Division Columbus, Ind. Greenwood, Ind. Columbus, Ind. Seymour, Ind. GENERAL AND SALES OFFICES~—INDIANAPOLIS CA ROU The Low Cost of ARVIN HEAT for ALL CARS A RVIN Heaters are made in several types. There is a model for your car—for all cars —priced as low as $1.75 for Fords and only $7.50 for the most expensive cars. All acces- sory dealers sell Arvin. Your dealer will tell you which Ar- vin Heater is best for your car. And once installed, Arvin Heat never costs another cent. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Tho ly va Dy Hor f . HY SUI UUSECU jf

Page 186

184 Enjoy © Undistorte Music! THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

'2fF o odes TM | il w

How a new type of construction also gives Ray-O-Vac batteries astound- ing staying power

Your aerial picks radio gS "| waves out of the ether in . 4 their true form, but unless you have “B” current with low internal resistance, they will be distorted in amplifying and the music will sound unnatural. be necessary to hold the block together—has been successfully replaced by a new and ¢greatly improved type of construction. No longer does the excessive heat of molten material rob the

O avoid distortion the source of the “B” current should have low internal resistance. In some sets the resistance in the “B”’ power unit is amplified to ten thousand-fold at the end of the circuit! For a “B” power unit that offers the least inter- nal resistance, eminent radio engineers recom- mend Ray-O-Vac batteries. These batteries have only from one-sixth to one-third as much inter- nal resistance as other sources of “B” current! LLU Nt ews,

The low internal resistance of Ray-O-Vac bat- teries is due to a special formula used in their construction. Itis the result of years of scientific experimentation and manufacturing experience. New construction gives 10% to 15% longer life But better reception is not all that Ray- O- Vac batteries offer set owners. They also reduce operation costs because they last longer. The hot pitch poured over the tops of the cells in old-style bat- teries—and which was thought to AAS JOO <r Section through old-style In Ray-O-Vac batteries construction. Solid pitch each cellis ina carton, with fills space between cells, waterproof, acid proof side- allowing no room for ex- walls, top and bottom. Ex- panding electrolyte cannot contact with other cells

pansion of the electrolyte Short circusts usually result

This is the master Ray-O-Vac “B” 45-volt battery, for all multiple-tube sets, sets re- quiring more than 16 milliamperes. It gives 45 volts, with one ; $500 Price “I= tap at 22! volts. All other sizes of ““B” batteries, together with “A” and “C” batteries, are also available in the Ray-O-Vac line.

electrolyte in the cells of the moisture so necessary to form the gases that give life and power to the battery. Each miniature cell in Ray-O- Vac batteries is now housed in a waterproof, acidproof and sealed carton, so that if the electrolyte eventu- ally breaks through its zinc container it cannot come into contact with another cell, form a short circuit and cut off the life of the battery. Instead, the electrolyte goes on producing cur- rent until almost the entire zinc can is consumed. That is why the new Ray-O-Vacs have over 10% to 15% longer life than even the old Ray-O-Vacs which were always famous for extraordinary long life. And without the needless pitch top, Ray-O-Vac 45-volt ““B” batteries are nearly four pounds lighter than old-style batteries. Ask for Ray-O-Vacs by name and look for this carton You cannot determine the internal resistance and staying power of a radio battery by mere- ly testing with a voltmeter. The surest way to know that you are getting radio batteries that have both staying power and low internal resistance is to ask for Ray-O-Vacs and iden- tify them by the carton shown here. Ray-O-Vac batteries are sold by radio and electrical dealers, hardware stores, and auto supply shops everywhere. “ “ “ FRENCH BATTERY COMPANY MADISON, WISCONSIN eAlso makers of flashlights and batteries, and ignition batteries November 6, 1926

Page 187

| with being just so much granite and little else. That’s another reason why there's a Cearth of prospectors in a land that is cry ing for them—men who know the count and who know also where to look for what they want There are prospectors and prospector The old kind, for instance, and the new Back in the gold-rush days of Nevada California and Colorado, it didn’t require much of a knowledge of rock, of formations or of topography for a man to start in a search for gold, with the chance of finding it. All he needed to know was that any funny-looking rock was worth examination, and, in a way, that rule still holds that, he had fairly open country over which to wander, with practically every mountain exhibiting at least a portion of the rock of which it was formed, with gullies created by the action of washes from the heavy mountain storms, which, at the same time, formed a sort of chute into which any erosive action upon an oute.op- ping of ore would be carried by the wash, there to be found by the pros- pector, ground in the mortar which he usually carried and then washed in a pan for colors. If the gold was there, he then be- gan to follow the gulch, picking up more pieces of float until he came to the place where that float, or metal- bearing ore, ceased. Where- upon he looked for the outcropping. This, in variations, applied to other ores—with the ex- ception that with lead or silver he took his sample to an assayer. His life, in a measure, was compara- tively easy; he had a burro, or a string of them if he possessed the money, to carry his every supply. He had visible ground over which to work. He had certain simple rules to follow. Butinthe new country of Canada there is little of this. seyond His Own Pack Animal In the first place, this new style of pros- pector must work in a country that is com paratively flat and where an open space of rock isararity. Instead, there is the bush, always the bush, a tangle of alder, of pruce, of balsam and hemlock and pine and birch, of moss, of bog, of muskeg, covering practically every inch of ground that one penetrates. As far as one can tell rom within the bush, everything is the ame; there is no chance to survey a gully wr follow the float resultant from years of washes down a mountain gulch, for the simple reason that there is no float, and there are no gullies and no mountains One does not load a burro with a few months’ supplies and lead him where he cares. There are no burros, in the first place; and secondly, there is nowhere for a burro to go. The bush of Canada is not a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST GOLD'S WHERE YOU FIND IT Continued from Page 23 place of easy trails and soft access. !t is dogged in its impenetrability, treacherous in its muskeg, its darkness, its ability so to twist one’s sense of directions that he will even refuse to believe the faithful announces ments of his compass \ strip of ground 500 feet wide may have at its other side a roaring river, not to be seen until one is upon it. Lakes and streams are everywhere. The only time that a four footed animal can travel for any distance and prospectors often go as far as 300 miles from civilization—is in the winter, when everything is covered with snow and the lakes and streams are frozen. Then real ¢ prospect ng is o it of the que stion lf Looking Out Over the Frozen Surface of Lac Seul From Hudson, Thus what the prospector takes with him he carries by canoe and upon his back, and it is no small burden. All of which the outfit consists is a canoe, an outboard motor, rifle, ammunition, a gold pan, mortar and pestle, rope, nails, candles, towels, gasoline and oil for the motor, a tool kit for the same thing, spark plugs, cooking uten- sils, a tent, blankets, shovels, picks, com- passes, clothing, repair materials for the time when the canoe hits a rock, flour at the rate of a half pound per man a day, 200 pounds or more of groceries, an emergency kit containing medicine and bandages to treat almost anything up to a major injury, whetstones, mosquito bar, a file or two, a light cable in case of the necessity for trenching the ground where a windlass and shaft bucket are needed, and any other little knickknacks that a man would require when living and working entirely upon his own for four or five months of an utter separation from civilization. And travel in the new North is a matter of quite some un- certainty, especially when a man is hunting gold It’s all very well when one is scooting along in his light canoe and the outboard motor is putt-putting quite satisfactorily But all of a sudden that joy may end—ir fact it does end quite consistently. If the means of passage is a river, a rapid shows ts foamy surface in announcement that no canoe Can pass If a lake t does as all lakes will do t comes to an end. To the bank goes the canoe, thereby changing places with the former passenger Now the canoe takes a ride, for a distance varying from a few hundred feet to a mile, or even two of them One man carries the canoe and one the motor. for sensible prospectors work in pairs when they strike the bus After they've lugged that for a mile or so they can come back and load up with files Ontario, at the Beginning of the 18O:-Mile Journey to Red Lake picks, shovels, groceries and the other little what nots, proceeding at last until another portage becomes necessary. Portages are quite a heavy crop in the mineral country Fifteen or twenty of them to be negotiated into an unknown district are not at all unusual. At least one gets a strong back out of prospecting, if nothing else—that and a knowledge of what big results can come from very little things; the black fly, for instance. Any man who goes into the bush in the black-fly season, the schedule of which seems to be from the first of June until the middle of July, but which often refuses to run on that schedule, earns what gold he gets. A small affair is the black fly, but it carries weighty results. So tiny that it can move easily through almost anything ex cept cheesecloth, it clamps itself upon one with the lightness of a toe dancer, and without interference, since it has sneaked upon the job, gets busy insert a blood sucker or do any of those prosaic things. Instead, in its quiet, per- suasive way, it selects a spot where the blood is close to the surface and bites a hole out of you as big as the point of a lead It doesn’t sting or pencil. Then it proceeds t iD ¥ interference until it has absorb. the fluid contents of the victim t until another shows up, and off its percn from ereating The blood begins to flow —and with it the word And the next morning, if the ly has selected one of its favorite spot around the eye, there ner even n gorgeous than the far-famed Aladdin's wor dertul lamp But or } r tt f by! fi ir t sut one hears eo “4 - 1e8 om thie prospector They go with the country some day when the new North has fulfilled his dream of a continuous mining cam| there ne settiements everywhere, and the black fly, like any other woodlands I will be 4 Someone o p ed the phrase as hopeful as a prospector - It b stillholds, whether that prospector be of a far-gone gen eration or the present. Knowledge So, with the mosquitoes, wit! Lhe black | ies wit! civilization gone far behind him, with the bush and the lakes and the rivers and the portages as his ob stacles, with a pack wi h easily can weigh 200 pounds the prospector ol the North starts upon no easy tas} Along the edges of lakes, the banks of rive the runs of a rapid where the rocks are exposed the fringes of is lands— there is the prospector pad diing slowly, his eyes watching every exposure nd behind those eyes a wealth of information upon rock formations that would leave the ancient gold seeKker gasping Here it is not merely a matter ol seeking quartz or nuggets; he is looking at the edges of the bottom of the world, where almost any form of mineral may be his reward. And he knows rock —a five-minute talk with a Canadian prospector will leave one in a bewilderment of schists, lava flows, banded iron formations, quartzite metamorphism, anticlines, synclines and intrusives He will speak glibly of the Keewatin formation of the Pre-Cambrian age; the Grenville Laurentian, Timiska mian, Haileyburian A \nimikean and a few others, throwing in a few remarks on gray wacke and conglomerates just to make it harder. And the thing which counts is that he knows what he is talking about, with the result that he looks for his age and his type of rock as he moves a ong, and when he strikes what he wants, he pulls his canoe upon the shore, turns it upside down for protection against the element puts up his tent and begins further investigat Quite different ndeed, from the old time prospector wit burro, his pick and his pan, n W way over the mountalir ! t-and-miss journey Different. too tl new fein the develop- ments wv f y, t ng sometimes to

Page 188

THE SATURDAY Diana’s Ankles Were Nothing Like Those of the Greyhound She Held in Leash fb pow NATURE didn’t exactly CHEAT At leading stores everywhere: Diana on ankles. The fact is she was far Silk, with Lisle Top and Sole Siyle 145—Sheer weighe? - Style ISS— Medium weight 5 $1.65 Sryle 255—Service weight? 9 Style 355—"Sheresilk” 5°" Silk, with New Four-Inch Lisle Welt and Sole Style 265—Service weight? 95 Style MS— “Sheresitk” § Pure Thread Silk Style 450 Sheresilk’’ Chiffon werglhrc, all silk $2.50 Style 350 Service weight $2.75 mad é ‘O too generous. Diana measured almost as much at the ankle line as the modern stocking does at the calf. And so, if Diana's fabled charms were weighed in the balance today and judged by 1926 standards of beauty, they would be found more wanting than wanted—UNLESS— unless she wore “Onyx Pointex”’! “‘Pointex”’ by virtue of the converging lines at the back of the heel, allows ALL ankles to look their best. ‘‘Pointex” slenderizes. ‘Pointex”’ accentuates ankle grace. ““Pointex” gives ankles the trim, smart lines that fash- ion decrees and the short skirt demands. “Pointex’’ ADORNS the ankle, instead of merely CLOTHING it. It is well to remember, for your ankles’ sake, that the ‘‘Pointex’’ heel is made ONLY *Pointex” ace New York Manufacturers EVENING POST scientific things which would have caused the ancient wanderer of placer days to hold up his hands in indignant disbelief. For if the prospector of Canada be in a country known to contain chalcopyrite, which is a long name for copper ore, he spends but little time in useless wanderings. Instead, he reaches into his pack for what is known as a dip needle, or, if he be more advanced, for a more complicated thing called a mag- netometer, and proceeds to let it do the work, without bothering to strip the soil from the rock until he has something to strip for. Tricky stuff, this, like holding hay in front of a balky mule. The ore in the great copper belt about Rouyn—incidentally, take any pronunciation you care to; Ruin in Toronto and Roo-ahn in Rouyn itself is usually found with one or two compan- ions, usually magnetite and pyrrhotite, which latter is not a tooth infection, but a mineral. Both of ’em are magnetic. Cop- per is not. The three of them are usually as thick as girl chums who dress alike. Now comes the trick stuff. The dip needle is little more than a glori- fied compass, with a needle that swings both sideways and vertically. The magnet- ometer is a glorified dip needle. With both, the processisabout thesame. Through the bush the prospector fights his way, set- ting up his dip needle here and there and observing what it does. Maybe it does nothing. Then again, maybe the needle begins to turn handsprings in a certain di- rection, whereupon the prospector makes a few notes and moves somewhere else, ob- serving what happens. Then he moves to another point, and in fact keeps moving about until he has a set of lines crossing at a given place. Whereupon he goes to this possible point and allows the dip needle to do its worst. It does so by wiggling in a downward direc- tion, pointing as best it can to those mag- netic twins which are exerting their influence upon it from beneath the ground. After that, the prospector can trace the vein by the same method before he digs, or do his digging first. He usually digs. Ofttimes he finds only the magnetic bodies without the copper. Then again, he sometimes finds all three together, and an ore body which means real money. But when it comes to other minerals, the dip needle is not so effi- cient. Sometimes there is too much com- plexity. Then again, one may be looking for gold, which is not magnetic and as a rule is confined in quartz, which isn’t mag- netic either. Or it may lie in a dozen other formations; gold is where you find it, and the dip needle doesn’t help much. The Prospector’s Reward So, once on the scent, the prospector stays there until something happens. Often it is a striking of his camp, the straighten- ing and launching of his canoe and a lei- surely journey onward. Now and then it is a departure bearing something of excite- ment, with a sackful of heavy samples to add to the weight which he must carry over the portages. And sometimes—only some- times— if that prospector be alone, he moves slowly to the water’s edge and waits there weakly, his eyes searching the expanses of the lake or stream, the edges of the black bush as it creeps down to the water searching and watching day after day, for aid, in a sudden illness or injury. Until the time comes when he does not appear at the water’s edge, and there is no movement about the camp. Until the high winds blow, and branches fall upon the canoe, and the dry spruce needles rain upon it hollowly, like rain driving upon a thin roof. Until the tent sags and tatters and the black smudge that once had been a fire soils the ground with its charcoal paint, while a pot hangs empty and cold upon its bent bough of poplar from which the spring is gradually departing. Until the snows descend and the humid days of spring and summer fol- low. Then, perhaps, the flurry of animals, moving before their Nemesis, a glow of red November 6, 1926 at night, of choking smoke by day, the swishing flare of birch bark yielding to the touch of heat, the roaring progress of flames in the branches of the spruce. After that, the tent is gone, and the canoe is gone, and the twisted thing upon a bed of spruce boughs is gone also At a later date, when prospectors gather, one of them brings forth his whittling stick and says reflectively, ‘‘I wonder whatever became of Jim Whittemore. Last I heard of him he was figuring to go up in the Big Loon country. Wonder if he ever went there.” For, as has been mentioned before, such things have always been the price of gold. Just as they have been the price exacted of him who would break the trail into any new country; the story of those two travel- ing men for civilization, the fur trader and the gold seeker, has always had its un- marked graves. Pioneers always, these two, beloved from a romantic standpoint, but little recognized from the angle of eco- nomics. Yet they have ever had an intense bear- ing upon the development of countries, just as the prospector is having his bearing on the future of today’s Canada. Toronto, for instance, now has its dreams of being a city of 1,000,000 persons, largely because of the prospector. Montreal and Quebec are looking forward to the returns of Rouyn, of the Boischatel district, of the Chibou- gamau Lake country and of other ore- producing areas—enough to fight for the benefits which may result therefrom The Real Bonanza Mines are producers of far more than the mere ore which comes from their veins They ask little if they are successful, and give much. One naturally does not often think of the returns of a mine other than a bonanza distributing wealth to a few per- sons in on the ground floor. But when one considers that the mines of Northern On- tario alone last year purchased $1,000,000 worth of boots and shoes, for instance, $100,000 worth of coffee, $1,000,000 worth of sugar, and other things in proportion through its $33,000,000 in wages, to say nothing of spending $25,000,000 for active supplies and some $10,000,000 for divi- dends, it is easy to see why a city or cities should cast anxious eyes toward a new min- ing area—even to the extent of fighting over the back fence—a little diversion which was brought about for the provinces of Ontario and Quebec by the discovery of Rouyn. The Temiskaming and Northern Ontario Railroad, a province-owned line, already had its line running from North Bay through Cobalt and on to Cochrane. There would be a comparatively easy method of entrance into the Rouyn territory, and a straight shoot for all products right down to Toronto. So it started to build its line, and progressed beautifully until it reached the Quebec border. For Quebec had reflected upon the fact that there would be products of factories to go into Rouyn, the products of mines to come out, money to be banked and various other things essential to the growth of cen- ters of population. Having thought this over, the province of Quebec had decided that the Canadian National Railroad should build down from Taschereau on the trans- continental line, thus making the proceeds of Quebec go to a Quebec city. So at the interprovincial line the hand of Quebec au- thority went up. It was very sorry, but just at the moment it might not be best for an Ontario railroad to go into the province of Quebec. That made Ontario angry. It went to law about the matter. What’s more, it won the suit. But just the same, the Canadian National Railroad goes forward, over lakes and through muskeg and blue clay to reach a bonanza camp, while the ragged ends of the Temiskaming and Northern Ontario Railroad gather rust at the bound- ary line. You see, once over the border, (Continued on Page 189)

Page 189

How A simple method they employ—one you can use. It THE SATURDAY EVENING POST usical Experts udge Radio insures the utmost enjoyment CJ UYING your radio need not be a complicated, specu lative venture. Radio literature may be con fusing. The pictures of differ ent sets are often distracting This is Our Offer Hear a Ko Brandes Speaker in your own Any Kolster , 7 * > TY rr > Weicod ~ UD Radio and home Brandes a Gealel Oppo! tunity of such a demonstration because they overemphasize cabinet work, a secondary item. me. Like One simple fact must guide you. It is paramount. What you hear when you listen to radio is all-important. Your ear is the final judge. Let tonal quality be your first consideration. Accept Expert Advice Naturally, musical experts are most critical of radio. Only the finest reproduction ap- peals to them. Mechanical details have little interest for them. Many of the internationally famous com posers, singers, orchestral conductors and musicians have agreed in their choice of radio. And all have come to unanimous agreement by hearing different radios and making tonal comparisons. Their preference is for Kolster Radio and Brandes Speakers because these instruments have set new standards of reproduction. And now we offer you the same oppor tunity to compare radios which has helped Kolster-Brandes these great musical experts in making a choice. Instead of Claims Instead of giving a maze of technical de o scriptions of the many advancements of ou! instruments, we say, “Hear them.” Instead of telling of our $10,000,000 con cern and its many achievements, such as building the principal radio stations for the U. S. Navy and the development of the Kolster Radio Compass which played such an important part in the rescue of the S. $ Antinoe by the S. S. Roosevelt, we say, “Let our instruments prove their own su periority.”’ Our dealers, the most progressive radio merchants throughout the country, decided to offer Kolster Radio and Brandes Speakers, only after hearing them and being con vinced that they would afford their cus tomers permanent satisfaction struments in ther I lear these l natural surroundin Play them as li they Were your own. Turn from station to station. Make any comparison you wish Let them prove that they are vastly superior hetace pelrore to anything you have ever heard Such a demonstration does not obligate 1 + | you in the slightest nor cost you one cent After your ear is satisfied, then you can ; > _ 1>] choose the mode! which you prefer; there 1 | are many beautiful cabinets and types of sets from which to choose. Our line is complete Just ask a Kolster-Brandes dealer for a demonstration then mail Should you not know who he is, the coupon and we will notiry him of you! Or mail the coupon for our tlustrated i | - i y catalog FEDERAL-BRANDES,INC

Page 190

cones ha eee SATURDAY EVENING POST “Let me play, too, Daddy.” “No, no, Oswald! This isn’t a game. Daddy is buying a tooth brush.” “A tooth brush! Then why are you brushing your thumb with it?” “Open the Box” says the Thumb Brusher Lets try it on the thumb” HUMB! Thumb! That’s the slogan of the Thumb Brusher. Whether the tooth brush lies in an open tray or is en- Thumb! closed in a carton, he buys by rule-of-thumb. Never would the true addict think of choosing one without thumbing at least a half dozen. There’s just one way to defeat the Thumb Brusher—to keep your tooth brush out of his hands. Your favorite brush has provided it. Dr. West’s Tooth Brush ts sea/ed in a glassine container, Sterilized—clean and sanitary inside the usual box. How the Thumb Brushers are confounded! “Let me thumb a Dr. West’s,” they ask the druggist. “Right there in the handy cabinet on the counter is a sample of every one,” he replies. “Thumb them to your heart’s content. They won't go in anyone’s mouth!” Small comfort, that, to an ardent Thumb Brusher. -_ A N D SEALED eo F O Let the Thumb Brushers have their brushes! Your interest goes far beyond theirs. You want the right brush—that brushes teeth in the righ/ way. That is why you will value the size of Dr. West’s, reaching easily into the farthest erect with bristles And the double convex shape, built cheek-corner, for right brushing! to clean inside, outside, and between the teeth! And the bristles! Sturdy, upstanding bristles that wear and wear. Especially selected bris tles that polish as they clean! two in the morning, two Kour minutes a day with this brush at night—will bring your teeth to a whiteness that will amaze you. Yet with all these advantages, the adult’s size Dr. West’s costs you but 50c: the youth’s, 35c; the child’s, 25c; the special gum massage and brush, 75c. So little for so x od a brush protection from Thumb Brushers! November 6, 1926

Page 191

Continued from Page 186) Quebec owns the right of way, and she can do as she pleases about letting a have it. For all of which blame the prospector, for he was the one who started things by going in there and finding copper-gold ore For him such developments only add a zest It was romance and the love of adventure ind dreams of the future when cities would build upon his discoveries that went wit! the lure of gold for the men of other days The same thing still holds true, for the romance is there as strong as ever. True, there are various divisions of pros- pectors. There is the civil engineer, for in- stance, with a knowledge of geology, who stakes ground as he goes through in ad- vance of a railroad or upon a forest sur- vey~—there are claim stakes today as far away as forty miles from Rouyn. Then, too, there is the mathematical, hard-headed, sharp-eyed scientific man who is sent forth by the big mining companies, upon a stated salary, to locate ground and stake the claims which he is allowed under the various pro- vincial acts, while on his trail come the workmen to do the assessment work neces- sary under the mining acts, thus holding the ground for future development, even though that may not come for twenty years. For a third class, there is the newly yraduated school-of-mines student, anxious to put his theories into practice. And fi- nally there is that real figure of romance, the grubstake prospector. It is not a cheap affair to prospect in the Northern bush; I met more than one man in the North Country who had expended $1000 or more for his summer in the Pre- Cambrian. Prospectors as a rule are not rich men; when that time comes, they lean upon their wealth and let somebody else do the searching. The result is that the average prospector is grubstaked—that gambling process by which someone else puts up the money and stays at home while the prospector takes the hardships, divid- ing the profits, if any. ‘How do I get along?” a prospector said to me as we watched the distant blue of a forest fire from the window of a chugging ltudson’s Bay Company packet, en route to the Red Lake district, near the Mani- toba line. “Well, I’ve got it kind of easy. You see, my doctor—that is, he used to be my doctor in Winnipeg—always was an awful active fellow. He’d go out moose hunting every fall, and knew every stream in Canada where a fellow could step into a five-pound speckled trout. Just a fellow who loved the outdoors, every inch of him. I've seen him having a peach of a time with the black flies so thick around him you'd think he was an electric light in North Bay during shad-fly time. Had plenty of money, what he’d made and what'd been left him; doctoring wasn’t any more’n something to keep him busy when he wasn’t out in the bush. Then he got all smashed up in an automobile accident. Bedridden now. So’’—and the prospector grinned—‘‘I’m his substitute.” , lroad

A Gamble With Nature “Of course,’’ he continued, ‘‘there’s al- ways the chance that I'll find something big and we'll get a thrill out of that. But besides that, there’s the adventure. He grubstakes me, and I go out every year, and follow every staking bee. One of the first in the Red Lake rush last winter, for instance; fact is, whenever I hear of ex- citement anywhere, I’m johnny on the spot; guess we've got claims staked out all ver Canada. Then, when the season’s over, I go back and spend the winter telling him about it, and it’s just like he had been there with me.” An exaggerated case? Perhaps in some of its elements, but not in all of them by any means. Prospecting is a gamble; it is a life for an adventurer. And there are those who cannot move from their desks or from behind their counters to get the real thrills which their souls demand. Canada is a new country, a place where there is still adventure to be " the thrill of risk, of obstacles to be over- had at every corner, sti come — and only overnight away. To those who feel the call of the bush, the desire to get out, the urge to quiver with excite- ment, yet who cannot do it personally, there is the prospector to go forth into strange places, to see strange things and to gamble against the elements and Nature in search for that most romantic of all things lid Gold! It calls to them behind their counters and their desks No matter whether the mineral in the final analysis be silver or galena or nickel or tin or copper, in the vision it is gold, and there has always been the saying that the dear public loves a gold mine. Besides, there is the gambling element which is ever present in the human race, to risk little and gain much; the feel- ing which surges through one when he has risked five dollars on a long shot in a horse race, the pull-on that leads a man to spend another dollar for ten more punches on a gift board, to play poker hands with his taxicab companion as they go home from work, using the numbers of passing license tags for their pairs and sequences. The Grubstaker Upon those two elements the grubstaker works, giving of his time and experience while others give of their money. Upin the North, there is more than one grubstake club, composed of from five to fifteen men, each of whom may be perhaps earning not more than a nominal salary, yet who out of that salary contributes a few dollars a week to the upkeep of some wandering man, far in the bush or penetrating the new mining districts as they spring up from the sea- board on to the agricultural districts of Manitoba, and then, leaping the prairies, take new strength in far western British Columbia. It carries a thrill for these men, one perhaps a clerk in a store, another a railroad brakeman, a third a bookkeeper, the adventurous side of him a-surge as he leans over his tiresome columns of figures. It gives to them in the actuality the same sort of reaction that a shut-in receives from the reading of an adventure novel, for here they are a part and parcel of that adven- ture, even though four walls close them in. **And they’ve got a chance, you know,” said my friend of the poison bottle. “There’s always the chance—especially in a country like this, where there is so much unscratched country. Sometimes I wonder when people will find out all there is to know about Canada. That’s what gives grub- staking the thrill; like some old king send- ing out a Columbus to find out what’s on the other side of the horizon, and wonder- ing from day to day where he is and what he’s doing, whether he’s just killed a bear for his supply of meat or has discovered a spot of land where the veins crop out in every direction with riches on every hand. It’s a thrill for a fellow behind a counter. But then it’s a thrill for anybody. Lawyers and doctors especially; they’re awful good grubstakers. Don’t ask me why; I don’t know.” He lighted a cigarette. “Then there’s the money element too. Now I work differently, in a way, but the results are about the same. I’ve got three partners. We haven't all been together for f one of us is here, another one somewhere else—I’m on the way now to meet one of ’em. First time I’ve seen any But we keep in touch through one or the other and we take separate districts. There’s a sort of rule that a fellow makes a small stake on an av- erage of once in four years—something he can sell, you know. Now suppose a new mining district opens up where there’s been a real strike, and where there’s the money to develop it. A good prospector will jump in there rig lve years; of the gang in two years. away and stake as many claims as he can. But he doesn’t try to work ‘em himself. Instead, he either tries to sell em to the big company or to a syndicate that’s figuring on getting the money for de- velopment. Maybe he gets $4000 or $5000 maybe only $1000. But it’s something to

THE SATURDAY

EVENING POST carry on with, and,”’ he added with a smile,

y strike waiting just on the other side of the bus} Much has been told of Red Lake throug! the newspapers, a great deal of it being wrong that lepicted Red Lake as a place of sudden wealth. That was the fault of neither the newspapers nor the corre spondents; when one is dealing with word- of-mouth reports hande from one to another along 1S0 miles of sledge tra , facts are sure to be twisted Nor would even this writer, alter interviews with prospe tors, with mine owners, with officials of the Province of Ontario who took part in the rush that claims might be recorded, wit! outfitting companies, dog-team owners who M also made the rush, people of Oommerce, following the gold seekers, and others, venture to guarantee every statement that is herewith made upon Red Lake. The North Country is a country of rumors, as is any vast land; rumors which spring un- founded, and in passing from one hand to another immediately become facts. Here are hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of square miles of new country; quite naturally much of it is vague. It is only by talking to many persons, and from those many taking the most logical and ofter agreed upon points, that one can even piecs together a story at all. But there is plenty to be agreed upon. A ghost-story camp, this patch of canvas tents and deal-board buildings that is called Red Lake. so romantic. Perhaps that is what made it It seems inevitable that there should be always a ghost story to boom gold; perhaps the recital of the old pros- pector, dying upon his bed of spruce boughs, and in his final paroxysms cough- ing up the gold nuggets which he had swal- lowed to prevent anyone ever discovering his riches. Or the ghost which appeared in the shape of a vague light, leading some prospector on and on, at last to disappear into the ground, where, the next morning, the pursuer discovered ten-pound hunks of gold at the very grass roots. Or the cows which once wandered where Cripple Creek later burst upon the world, the hunter who roamed in from what later be- came the Tonopah district and tossed a sample of ore into an assay office, there to lie for a full year before it was examined. Always the story—and Red Lake had it. Red Lake’s Ghost Story Upon the edge of Goose Island, in Lac Seul, on the way to Red Lake from the railroad station at Hudson, stands a large cross upon a rock, and prospectors as they pass often raise their hats to it. It is in memory of two men who died because of Red Lake, but they were not the first Long ago, so the story goes—nearly forty years in fact—two other men struggled through the wilderness to Slate Bay, along the northern shore of Red Lake, and there found something which induced them, with a moose hide for a shaft bucket and a wind- lass built from the bush about them, to sink a shaft. Perhaps they died, perhaps they didn’t. No one even seems to know their identity. Then, years afterward, a govern- ment geologist, making his way through this far North Country, paused in his jour- ney at the edge of the vegetation-fringed shaft. He staked the ground as a mining claim. Soon he would come back and do his necessary assessment work. But he didn’t, and in time he died also. Red Lake mained undiscovered But the ghost story was out—the tale of that yawning mine shaft, dug there nearly forty years ago. At last three prospector Johnson, White and Conn, went in to search for it. They didn’t find the shaft, but they found gold along the shores of Red Lake and staked six claims Winnipeg they went and found two back ers. But one died before the first year’s assessment work was done, and the other followed him in death before the second year rolled by. They found a third, a lav yer named Elliott f Sut before the y go in, Elliott also was dead

St Tr y nN m ( " ‘ metime ] ay there t preak the Da ‘ I ‘ The Cana 4 N FE. L. Murray a ( { t r Ke K.< fw ‘ ex it) it wi the r r ict A pering At ¢ + ‘ alor the slow route of portages ar ikes iron Red Lake, to Keg Lake, thence throug the Gull Rock and t} Pagwash at last t breast the neavy waters of the sixty-mik ong Lac Seul on the last ney to Hudson November winds are strong on Seul. Wan body when lap of their jour But canoes are frail and dering Chippewas found one the break-up came the next spring; the resting place of the other remains a mys tery that mysterious place, the bush And to memory a cross stands there, upor a barer 4 3 ‘ t path way of A Dollar a Pound Jeath had done almost sufficient press venting now In we a geological outfit 923, to make a full report which did not ome out u last ye And following this, the Howey brothers, prospectors, who staked claims late in the year, and accord ny to rumor, engaged the services of a third man, W had made his name widely iccess of several min- ing properties, to manage their find and swing a successful sale to a large mining company There are hints that what followed was press-agent stuff; there are equally valid claims that was merely the result of an earnest effort to get a new mining district opened up in record time Soon the word began to travel with the swiftness that only a mining rumor can assume. There was something real to the Howey claims over at Red Lake; some- thing big, something tremendous. Dog teams were making their way over the frozen stretches, through bitter below-zero weather, carrying men and supplies to work a new discovery through the winter. The great Dome Company of Canada, as well as the McIntyre interests, was ready to put real money into it. There were whis- pered inferences that the gold vein in this new camp would carry greater riches than Cobalt and Porcupine and Kirkland Lake and Gowganda combined One bitter morning a prospector dropped off the Transcontinental at the little Hud- son’s Bay post at the foot of Lac Seul, quite appropriately called Hudson on the railroad time-table, and inquired of the station mas- ter where he could buy a dog team and a sledge for a trip to Red Lake. Then others followed. A building or two sprang up to join the railroad station, the Hudson’s Bay post and the fishery warehouse which had formed the town. Dogs bounded out of baggage cars. A big equipage in the form

of a house on sleds, bearing in circus color the name of the Howey Red Lake Gold Mining Syndicate, rolled in on a flat car, and with horses plugging along through the snow, started off toward those vague re gions, 180 miles across the ice and snow Newspaper men arrived, and more pros pectors, to make their arrangements, and then with cracking whips and yapping started tl ‘ From far the ] ca the hum of ar ine, W wooped lower, then landed upon skids upon the frozen surface of the lake, while the befurred aviator stepped forth and announced that he was re idy at

all times to carry passengers to Red Lake at the insignificant rate of a doilar a pound \ passenger hurried forward to be weighed Then he bethought himself that it might be a bit colder in the altitudinous regions traversed the plane. | ished away to the Hudson’s | ight himself a fur parka and hurrie *«. But at the cockKp t ne alted Continued on Page i193

Page 192

190 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 LC Smith THE BALL-BEARING OFFICE MACHINE -- doX easy action —~ epeed Ve -- SLE yours ~ easy action -~ enest couch -~ i epeet - Agent ouch . is dl {ncn -~ eaty acvSoo -- easy easy act speed -~ Vee action -* ~ = speed 7 act. , asin, -- «COT grr Looe » epeed o STENOGRAPHERS increase. their speed by changing to the LC Smith—because of its lighter f as - touch, its easier, speedier action; quieter too. Oita ae Try an LC Smith at our expense—just phone | PG . or write for a representative to call. | Try our Type Bar brand of ribbons and carbons L.C Smith & Corona ‘Typewriters Inc

Page 193

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 191 CORONA T HE PERSONAL WRITING MACHINE ak ee pas a he! ee Ms dae de z Grendson; Hanns that are too shaky to guide a pen can write clearly, easily with Corona. ‘The standard keyboard model shown here is an office typewriter os in everything but price and weight. Look for porn | “Corona in your phone book and ask to see it. ce Sales offices in principal cities of the world [Established 1903] ts. 721 E. Washington Street, Syracuse, N. Y.

Page 194

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 | Whos | the Popular Boy’? J ! tr HE boy who plays a Conn is the most sought for fellow in his crowd. He’s welcome everywhere, because he brings zestful, cheering music that everybody likes. A Conn saxophone is a key to social pres- tige; it can be a great help to success in any career. Professional playing, whole or part time, is highly paid and fascinating; opportunities are open everywhere. Many of America’s leaders in business, the pro- fessions, and statecraft, have earned their Choose any instrument; remember Conn makes everything for band and orchestra. Each Conn instrument has its exclusive | The New Ball. § . room Model } . : : : ate c £: ages. ) sare sea ¢ - ITSEC | Trombone pos- education with their musical talent. advantages Cc nns are used and endorsed | Viel si by the world’s foremost artists and con- | clusive advar 7 = ¢ " ic aQ¢ > , tages whict ) kn > 2 Conn you can win this pleasure = ductors. Yet they cost no more than others! make it the and profit quickly. Exclusive, easy-playing | choice of trom- features speed your progress. Our simpler Free Trial, Easy Payments on any aegis at ag key system is easier to master; hydraulic Conn. Select the instrument which | expansion process makes easier blowing, —_ appeals to you; try it in your own home. = ’ more beautiful tone, perfect scale; drawn You can own it by small monthly pay- sockets with rolled edges and new foil ments. Send the coupon or write now for pads eliminate trouble and improve tone. __ free literature and details of trial offer. | | ~ ~ The C I 1 ¢ ig Ind pr 1 etails « e trial e n : phx rf ] lead ; f ! iy = a in 1t —=— SS lethebeginnes n : j str all BAN D about it ! € r ely 1 F a Seeder talansusitens en oblinnatn INSTRUMENTS “Titteis. f WORLD'S LARGEST MANUFACTURERS H _ | ewtrTr tt wees Y OUR “tra erwy S68 a PF? w ITH A Cc ON N : ———_— SS —_— | Factory Branch Stores New York, Strand Theater Bldg., Chicago, . .62 E. Van Buren St. Detroit,. . 1431 Broadway Ave. Portland, . « lith & Alder Sts. Conn National School of Music, | 47th St. at Broadway Atlanta . 62 N. Broad St. Kansas City, . . 1011 McGee St. Tacoma, . . . . . 1155 Broadway tor bandand orchestra instruction, j Boston . 488 Boylston St. New Orleans, 125 Carondolet St. San Francisco, . 47 Kearney St. Seattle, : . . 1613 Third Ave. F. N. Innes, Director 1 406 N. Howard St. Mobile, . . 5 St. Emanuel St. Oakland,. .. - 531 16th St. Vancouver, B. C., 324 Hastings St.,W. 62 E.Van Buren St., Chicago, Il |

Page 195

(Continued from Page 189) “Step on those scales again,’’ came the command of the aviator as he pointed to the portable affair which had come with his ship. The gold seeker stepped. “‘That coat weighs twenty pounds!” was the verdict ““Give me twenty dollars more!” Then, with a full cargo, the airplane roared and was gone, while beneath it, the deep snow of Lac Seul showed a sharp-cut path, and upon it black dots and bouncing forms—men and dogs mushing their way to a new gold camp. The fever grew. The town of Hudson became larger. The factor at the remote Hudson’s Bay station at Lac Seul, mourn- ing over the fact that his four-hole golf course was buried under four feet of snow, found something else by which to pass the time—the coming and going of excited men, dropping to rest in their eider downs when night closed in, or fussing over their fires with the cooking of rice and corn meal and fish for the faithful dogs that would carry their supplies to the new bonanza. Lights gleamed along the otherwise deserted bush which fringed the frozen lakes and rivers. At Hudson a new business started—that of trading in huskies for men who had come too hurriedly to bring their motive power with them. Again, at still a farther ad- vanced Hudson’s Bay post, that of Pine Ridge, a tent went up and an enterprising soul began the furnishing of food to weary gold hunters. Then another tent joined it, and still others—thus towns begin when gold shouts for discovery. At a point on the shore of Red Lake still another town began to blossom— if anything can blossom in near-arctic tem- perature. A thousand prospectors were on the trail now; the airplanes hummed con- sistently, except when they crashed, the wreck of at least one to sink into the waters of Lac Seul with the spring break-up. Out from the governmental offices of Toronto moved the mining recorder and his assist- ants, to begin the recording of claims. For men were staking everywhere now. It meant nothing that they could not see the ground, that they did not even know whether they were staking above soil or above the waters of the lake itself. Stake stake, stake, each man taking to himself the three claims of forty acres each allowed under the Ontario laws. In that little ten- by-twelve tent, hurrying recorders ac- cepted claims at the rate of 100 a day and more; there was no time for close examina- tion or investigation. Nothing to do but take the prospector’s announcement and file it. Of mail service there was none; the railroad was 180 miles away and no one to drive a dog sledge containing official com- munications to meet it. The Red Cross in the Field There was nothing to buy, nothing to sell, nothing to do but stake claims and burn with the fever of what would happen when the summer came. There was little food. The mine had brought in a fish net, and by community agreement, the inhabit- ants of the little tent town went each day upon the lake, chopped holes through the ice, put the net through by means of poles, and then by dint of more chopping at other spots pulled it and yanked out the catch of trout and pickerel and pike, the fish often freezing solid even as they died. Fish and beans, beans and fish—and the dream of gold. Throughout the winter the frenzy continued, pale sun or shrieking blast in the daytime, crisp stars and the wolflike, incessant howls of the huskies by night. But gold was there! What cared these men for hardships if the yellow god be in the offing? The winter would fade some day; one need not starve. There were others to help, and in case of illness, was there not a Red Cross camp—to say nothing of the Red Cross car itself on the sidetrack at Hudson, only 180 miles away? So on and on continued the frenzy, until the snow on the shores of Red Lake bore the marks of many a tramping man, and 5500 claims announced the fact that at least THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1000 men would be back to work them when the snows faded, revealing what lay beneath. It was early August when I saw the Red Lake district. The 1000 men were not there The hastily constructed little city of Pine tidge was rather sad. The mushroom hotels at Hudson were far from filled. There were vague whisperings of regret, of infer ence that the big mining companies were holding back and not giving forth the true reports demanded by their contracts Maybe Red Lake wasa mining camp, maybe it wasn’t, they said. Maybe those big min- ing companies, these whisperers told me, were just keeping mum until after the first of September, when they could absorb the best of 4000 or more claims which men had staked in the snow after their grueling journey over the icy trail, then failed to cinch by not returning to do their assess- ment work. Prospector’s Paradise Maybe this was a big thing, this Red Lake; maybe it would turn out to be the greatest thing in Canada after the Dome and Melntyre had finished its diamond drilling. But—oh, well, what was the dif- ference? A lot of fellows had got disgusted, waiting for the big companies to do some- thing, and they’d moved on to Woman Lake and Birch Lake and Narrow Lake, where there was a lot better stuff than any- thing Red Lake ever had seen or ever would see. Didn't a fellow just come in the other day with a sample that assayed eighty dollars, taken from a twenty-foot vein? Nothing like that ever bobbed up at Red Lake, did it? Always something ahead, always the fever, always the let-down; it has been ever the history of the mining camp and the gold rush. For mines cannot be made ina day. It takes only an ordinary imagi- nation to vision how much time must elapse before Red Lake, even though it really be potentially one of the biggest camps in Canada, can connect itself with civilization. But the prospector, once the fever of gold is on, seldom thinks of that. In the first place, if he stakes claims within reasonable distance of a big find, there's usually someone to buy them, allowing him to be off to newer fields. And the new fields always beckon, as they always have in the past and as they will in the future. The prospector himself knows it even to the recital of the story that is the classic of every mining camp. All the prospectors had died. All the prospectors had gone to heaven, and with one whoop, kicked their burros through the gates, then with hasty unlimbering of pick and shovel, begun their assault upon those golden streets, thereby causing the harassed Saint Peter to move from his cus- tomary position at the portals and make a remonstrance, ‘Please don’t dig it all up,” he begged. “The gold on top there is absolutely pure We assayed it three times before we , “What do you know about mining?” asked an indignant prospector. ‘The deeper you go, the bigger the value.” But there was one among them who had pity. “I'll get rid of ’em for you, pardner,”’ he said, and moved toward the fevered mob. “Listen, boys, maybe there ain't anything to it, but I’ve just heard from a pretty reliable source that there’s been a whale of a strike in hell.” The next morning there was only the street-repair gang upon the golden pave- ment and a solitary prospector moving toward the gates with his loaded burro the purveyor of the previous day’s rumor. ‘‘Well, so long, pardner,”’ he said. The guardian of the gatesstared. ‘* You’re not going?” A lean hand stroked at a stubby beard. “Well, I'll tell you, pardner,” said the last prospector. ‘The way those fellows lit out sort of set me to wonderin’. I’ve been thinkin’ it over considerable and I’ve come to the conclusion that I'll just go down there and stake out a few claims myself.” he L oor Coverin IQUID Floor Cov g Where Beauty Must Survive y Hardest Wear RESH, clean, attractively-toned surfaces—these are elements of charm in the home. Where they are in constant daily use, floors and furniture endure hard us- age that mars beauty unless beauty is strongly protected Koverflor, the liquid floor covering, gives the utmost of protection against the hardest of wear to the constantly used surfaces of the breakfast nook, the bathroom, the kitchen. For Koverflor brings to them a super-endurance to every attack of wear, water, and even weather —the same protection it gives to porch floors, to the cement floors of basements, garages, and public buildings, and to steam- ships and boats . . . Koverflor colors are attractive and fresh. The Koverflor surface is absolutely sanitary and very easy to clean. ‘ Koverflor is applied like paint—with a brush. Its ex- ceptional protection may be given to every hard-used surface inside or outside the house. It is successfully used on articles of furniture, tools and implements, metal fixtures and toys. Hard-used surfaces which require a varnish effect should be given the high-protection fin ish of Koverfior Clear. STANDARD VARNISH Works Nk i HI \ . AN FRANCISCO W YORK «= «= ¢ $43 Fourth Ave 2600 Federa 62 Howard St | LONDON «+ «+ BERLIN . THENBURG | The great industries of the world use thousands and thousands of gallons of Standard Varnish Works Products— Varnishes, Paints, Enamels and Allied Specialties for protecting and beautifying the articles of commerce | ~£ they manufacture. For all industrial, architectural and oz household purposes, S.V.W. Products are recognized world as the a pted standard People everywhere have become so im- ; If your dealer hasn't Koverilor in stock, send to us pressed with the extraordinary qualities ! 4: Gur nearest office, $1.40 for a suart scutes Gor o of Koverflor, that they are successfully 4 pint or 40 cents for a half-pint. Pacific Coast points half pint, 50 cents. Koverflor comes in Clear, Cream, Spruc Tile Red, Dutch Blue, Dust, Linoleum Brown, Mahogany, Green . quart, $1.60; pint, 90 cent using it for many purposes other than r eee floors—for articles of furniture, wood Grey, Russet. State color. § ul Book or ues or metal surfaces, linoleums, boats, etc. . ’ , AENENC HOSS GH sequent ! ' ' ' . ' You can use Clear Koverflor wherever | Amount enclosed r you need a varnish effect. Prove the ; 7 7 merits of Koverflor yourself. Use the 4 °° “*""® ' attached coupon. Your Address

Page 196

0 down below The Snow Line- The Gulf Coast, extending from West Florida to New. Orleans, is a section of varied interest to the tourist. Historic old forts and cities (five sovereign flags have waved over the Gulf Coast), close proximity to big cities and splendid train service fromall partsoftheUnited States— these are some of the reasons for the ever- increasing popularity of this section as a place of respite from the snows and ice of the North. The Gulf Coast is reached from the Central West and North by She * ° an-Aamerican qe — OA LLL - PULLMAN One of the finest trains in all the world. Through from Cincinnati and Louisville to Pensacola, Mobile and New Orleans and intermediate points. Convenienttime of arrival and departure. Every travel luxury: maid and valet service, showers, club car, library-radio- observation car and the famous L. & N. dining service all the way. Travel in comfort from the East via (RESCENT LIMITED Through train from New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington to Mobile, New Orleans and the Gulf Coast. Splendid all-new equipment, similar to The Pan-American. Several other trains daily provide through sleeping-ear accommodations from Northern and Eastern cities LOUISVILLE & NASHVILLE R.R. “ Let R. D. Rusey, Gen- eral Passenger Agent, Louisville & Nashville Railroad, Room 300, 9th & Broadway, Louis ville, Ky., tell you more about the Gulf Coast as a place to visit, to live and to prosper. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 [THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME TROUT (Continued from Page 17) “There ain’t any brook any more,” said the second fisherman, coughing up a num- ber of inhaled mosquitoes and brusquely removing several blood-filled black flies from behind his ears. “Stop talking so much and hunt for it,”’ | said the first, ‘‘or first thing you know | you’ll step over it and never know it. There’s been some fine trout caught out of this brook.” The party at length encountered a series of small puddles that seemed to have a sus- picious continuity about them. Twigs dropped into the puddles moved reluc- tantly in one direction; and this fact proved conclusively to Raymond and Roger, who had been trained in woodcraft since infancy, that they had at last found Perkins’ Brook. Perkins’ Brook eventually emerged shyly from the alder swamp, and swelled into a magnificent stream fully two feet wide at its more impressive portions; and in the course of time the party of fishermen also emerged from the swamp, accompanied by several million mosquitoes and black flies and a powerful odor of citronella. After removing the more annoying twigs, brambles, thorns, burs and leaves from their persons, they proceeded to fish Per- kins’ Brook with all the skill and resource- fulness of trained woodsmen. At the end of an hour and a half of valiant endeavor their catch consisted of one trout six and one-quarter inches in length that looked as impressive in its captor’s fish basket as one baked bean on a hungry man’s plate, and one trout three and one-eighth inches in length that was replaced in its native ele- ment to provide an afternoon’s sport for other optimistic fishermen. Both Raymond and Roger agreed, as we pounded homeward in a state of almost complete exhaustion, that such bad luck was unaccountable. They thought that possibly the moon might have something to do with it. It was on the wane, and everyone skilled in woodcraft knows that sometimes fish won’t bite when the moon ison the wane. We could, they suggested, try it when the moon was full, or when it was half full, or when there wasn’t any moon at all. “Just as like as not,” said Raymond, ‘*we could come back here two weeks from now and get as nice a mess of trout as any- | one would want to see, couldn’t we, Roger?” “Sure,” said Roger. “You let it rain a little,’ said Raymond, ‘“‘and get the moon just right, and come up there just the right time of day, and just as like as not you'd get some big fellers out | of there, wouldn’t you, Roger?”’ “Sure,” said Roger. And so on and so on and so on. , The Man From Mississippi Having thus disposed of one important protest against the manner in which I had insulted the noble pastime of angling, I was at liberty to take up the next protest, which had arisen from another trained woodsman in the person of Mr. Ben Ames Williams, the persistent and prolific author. Mr. Williams, though born in Mississippi, has long been sympathetically attuned to the fish, the animals, the birds, the residents and all the other wild life of New England. It was his implied contention that any per- son who speaks slightingly of or brings a blanket accusation against trout fishing especially trout fishing in Northern Maine, which has almost become his exclusive | property for literary purposes—is guilty of destroying the faith of the people in | rustic fiction. In rustic fiction any character, includ- | ing the village idiot, can go up to the brook that runs across the old woodlot and catch a dozen speckled beauties in the time that it takes an ordinary fisherman to pull up his waders, straighten out a leader, thread his line through the guides of his rod, find out where he put his matches, light his pipe, anoint himself with fly dope, and climb over the barbed-wire fence that al- ways lies between a fisherman and a brook in all sections of America. It was also Mr. Williams’ contention that if a person can’t catch trout, he either doesn’t know where to go or he can’t catch them anywhere. This being the case, Mr. Williams was anxious to point out a few places to go; and his anxiety finally resulted in a party of three hopeful fishermen, headed by the superconfident Mr. Williams, faring north- ward through the beautiful city of Portland and the ruggedly, smiling Maine country- side around Brunswick, Bath, Damaris- cotta and Wiscasset, and finally entering that seemingly archaic and almost pre- historic section of the state where the little villages lie along the folds of the rolling hills, uncursed by railroads, filling stations, hot-dog stands, roadside advertisements of corsets, cigarettes, noodles, garters, under- wear and what not; or by dance halls, trick bungalows, auto-camp sites and other stigmata of progress, civilization and con- tempt for beauty and the rights of others. Maine Fiction The center of Mr. Williams’ fishing oper- ations was the town of Frate:nity; and when he had arrived at Fraternity he led his party triumphantly to the farmhouse of his chief fishing and hunting accomplice, Mr. Bert McCorrison, a skilled woodsman of many years’ standing. “How they biting, Bert?”’ inquired Mr. Williams, gracefully decanting his two hundred and thirty pounds from the auto- mobile and unbuckling his belt prepara- tory to donning his fishing pants. And as he asked the question he cast a triumphant glance at Mr. Charles Francis Coe, who formed the third member of the party, and myself, as if to say, ‘‘ Now listen to this, and don’t ever talk to me again about fish being scarce in New England.” “Fine, Ben, fine!”’ replied Bert, offering Ben a large handful of matches. ‘‘ You remember that pool down in the meadow where I caught the seventeen fish last July, the biggest one being fourteen and five- eighths inches, hey, Ben? You remember that pool?” “Yes,”’ said Ben, glancing at us proudly. “‘T took eleven fish out of that pool, you remember, Bert, one day last summer, and one was thirteen and a quarter inches long.”’ “No, Ben,” said Bert, “‘that biggest one of yours was thirteen and seven-sixteenths inches.” “Well, anyway, he remembers the pool, Bert,” said Mr. Coe somewhat impatiently. “What happened to it? Have the trout been pushing each other out on the bank?” “No,” said Bert; ‘‘but I took two men from Melrose down there last week, and they got fourteen trout out of it, and the biggest was thirteen and fifteen-sixteenths inches long.” “We'll go right down there,”’ said Ben, going through the preliminary motions of pulling off his shirt and casting a final pity- ing look at us over his shoulder as he disap- peared into the house. “Ben! Ben!” shouted Bert after him “Ben! We'll stop on the way down and look at a moose track! I been saving that moose track for five weeks. It’s one of the nicest moose tracks you ever saw. I got a board over it, saving it for you.”’ So in the course of time the entire party, having inserted itself into an expensive assortment of fishing pants, fishing shirts, fishing boots, fishing hats, fishing stockings and fishing underwear, and having hung on (Continued on Page 197)

Page 197

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “The Worlds ASIEST Easy Chair’ CONVERSING { beautiful, restful, invitis hair f very formal use, READING Touch hidden pull-ring or ton—and veclir Back lock red po DOZING Back fully reclined and pearing leg-rest u Hidden Features of COMFORT MAKE YOUR ‘ROYAL A HAVEN OF ‘RES7 (Y , a ST a stylish, luxurious chair in appearance—but Royal possesses exclusive, /idden comfort features that m: ike it a veritable haven of rest. You may recline to any desired degree in the Royal—or stretch out at full lens rth if you wish. You just pull the concealed ring or push the button! The hidden features respond as by magic and the Royal is transformed instantly into an incomparable lounging me —without effort and without getting out of the chair. Anc with all its additional comfort Royal looks like any wile fine chair and it takes up no more room... . The Side chair shown here (No. 0368 with disappearing leg-rest) is but one of the many beautiful Royal styles shown in our new book, “Royal Comfort”. It also shows the Royal Easy Bed-Daven- port with the box-spring guest bed that does not fold and cannot sag. Mail the coupon for Free Style Book and your dealer’s name. ROYAL EASY CHAIR COMPANY + STURGIS, MICHIGAN Royal Easy Chairs ave Sold Singly or in Bed-Davenport Su l O00 Furniture Dealer hes'Ge Write for FREE Style Book ye we) ) “PUSH THE BUTTON -BACK RECLINES ”’ AAe> ROYAL FASY CHAIR CO Micincan ¢ - = } REI B 1 Dealer's N ,

Page 198

November 6, 1926 +. US. PAT. OFFICE VACUUM BOTTLE Tis “Thermos” or ’Tisn’t “Thermos” Remember that all vacuum bottles are not ‘*Thermos’’ Bottles. There is only one genuine ‘Thermos’ Bottle. Look for the “*Thermos”’ trade-mark stamped on the bottom of the bottle. at Makes a Good Hostess? The guest room’s delightful hominess—the little hints of thoughtful- ness for the guests’ comfort—the “Thermos” Set on the bedside table Thermos" Service has become indispensable in the home “THERMOS” Enam- just as, for years, quart ‘“Thermos”’ bottles have been a eled Quart Service Set (in necessary part of the equipment of every outing—winter sew Thermos Finish"’ . wohl compte hem and summer alike. various colors) with “THERMOS” Quart Service Set No. 60 Nickel Nickel Plated Mounted In cold weather ‘‘Thermos”’ gives you portable hot food ated — $11.00. Other wlee Nia 207? oe . - . ¥ ' ] oes ; or npr ileal Mae and drink wéthout fire—and in warm weather, cold food and “oe ranging in p Way o2z2.UU. to £13.00. drink without ice. But “‘Thermos”’ is more than that—it is portable health and comfort for the whole family and for the guests. There's a ‘‘Thermos’’ container or set for every need you can imagine—Jug or Pitcher Sets with tray and glasses for the bedroom, living room, dining room, sun porch or the office desk; Lunch Kits, School Kits, Motor and Traveling Kits; Quart “‘Thermos’’ bottles for outings. 4 For the comfort of your guests and your family make sure your “‘Thermos’’ equipment is complete. See the “Thermos” line at your dealer's. THE AMERICAN THERMOS BOTTLE CO. 366 MADISON AVE. NEW YORK CHICAGO CINCINNATI SAN FRANCISCO NORWICH, CONN, HUNTINGTON, W. VA. In England: THERMOS (1925), Ltd., London In Canada: THERMOS BOTTLE CO., Ltd., Toronto

Page 199

(Continued from Page 194) and about itself a sufficiently large assort- ment of fish baskets, bait boxes, fishing knives, sandwich containers, tobacco boxes and what nottowarrant the belief thatit was going to catch a large quantity of fish, set off comfortably by automobile for the meadow through which ran the trout-infested stream that had been under discussion. There was a pause to view the moose track that Bert had been saving. The edges had disintegrated somewhat, and the foot- print itself was less suggestive of a moose than it was of a forcibly dropped or hurled flatiron or some other blunt instrument. It was, however, viewed with great apprecia- tion, and from every angle, by Ben and Bert. It occurred to Mr. Coe that Bert could easily save time, in the future, by carrying a bucket of plaster of Paris with him and taking impressions of the moose tracks that he encountered. Thus he could make a collection of moose tracks and keep them in the home, and spend many a long, happy winter evening sorting them out and discarding the small moose tracks and the imperfect moose tracks. The further sug- gestion was made that when a party was in a hurry to go fishing, the freshest moose tracks could be hung up outside the house, so that they could be viewed without loss of time. Traffic Officers Needed This suggestion was received coldly by Ben and Bert. Being trained woodsmen, they preferred to view their moose tracks in a state of nature. As the automobile sped along the wind- ing and always beautiful roads of Frater- nity, the party was kept in a state of eager anticipation by Bert’s exciting and dra- matic tales of the denizens of the forests and the streams. “*See that field over there?”’ Bert would ask in the quiet but authoritative tones of the trained woodsman. “Yes, yes!’’ the other members of the party would reply, almost dislocating their necks in an effort to see the field. “‘Well,”’ Bert would say, “‘a feller saw a moose there, right over by that big rock, the sixth of last November, about three o’clock in the afternoon. I went up and saw the tracks.” And then, whipping around with the silent sinuosity of the trained woodsman, he would point to another field on the other side of the road. “See that little mound over in the corner of that field?’’ he would demand in the repressed but thrilling voice of the skilled huntsman. Again the heads would jerk creakingly around and cries of “Yes, yes!’’ would arise from every side. “Ben and I saw two moose on that mound a year ago last June,”’ Bert would say. ‘Two moose! Yes, sir, we went over and saw their tracks, didn’t we, Ben?” From one side to another the heads ro- tated, obediently following Bert’s pointing finger. Two moose had been seen in this field; a moose track had been seen in that field; the tracks of three moose had been seen in still another; a moose had walked from this field into that field, and his tracks had not only been seen by Bert in both fields but in the road as well. And so on and so on and so on. When, for a time, wooded hill slopes re- placed the fields, the exciting tales of moose tracks gave way to blood-quickening remi- niscences of mighty fish catches that had been made in the neighborhood. “That’s a nice trout brook when it’s right,””’ Bert would remark, indicating a purling watercourse. ‘“‘One day I took six- teen trout out of the pool just above the bridge, and the largest one measured fifteen and one-eighth inches, and the three next largest were over thirteen inches long.” “Why not stop here?” asked Mr. Coe fretfully. *’S no good now,” replied Bert hastily. “When was it that you made that catch, Bert?” inquired Mr. Coe suspiciously. “That was in the spring of 1892,” re- plied Bert soberly. “‘I wish it was a little later in the season so’s we could show ’em some fishing down in the Sheepscot, hey, Ben? The big felie-s come up and lie in there later in the season, and you can see “em lying there. You remember that pool where the bank hangs out over the big rock, Ben, where I saw the moose track two years ago last fall? Last year I took eighteen trout out of that hole, and the largest one was fourteen and a half inches long, and none of ‘em were under nine inches. About a hundred yards below that is another pool, and one day I took eleven trout out of that pool, and the largest one was thirteen and three-quarters inches long.”’ “They tell me,”’ observed Mr. Coe casu- ally, ‘“‘that there aren't as many people living in this part of Maine as there used to be.” “That’s a fact,”’ said Bert regretfully. “It’s a hard country, and people desert their farms and go to live in the cities, or in places where it’s warmer in the winter.” “After all,” Bert was told, “you can hardly blame the people for going away from here, when the little children can’t go out in the fields or walk along the roads without running the risk of being stepped on by a moose.” “And of course,”’ added Mr. Coe, “the little ones who go too near the brooks would probably be eaten by trout.” “The state,”’ Bert was told, “ought to do something about providing traffic officers to direct the streams of moose traffic.” ““We get out here,” said Bert, with the imperturbable face of the trained woods- man. So the automobile was left by the roadside and the party surmounted the usual number of barbed-wire fences and prepared to utilize its expensive fishing equipment. Instructions as to modes of fishing were also issued by Ben and Bert, because of their superior knowledge of woodcraft. Maine trout, it seemed, were excessively timorous, and the successful fisherman approached a stream by lying on his stomach and stealing up on the trout- infested waters in a silent and serpentine manner, so that the trout might not be made suspicious by unusual sights and sounds. ‘Right down there,” said Bert, in a tense whisper, “‘is a fine pool. Last year I took seven trout out of that pool in less than half an hour, and the largest one measured thirteen and an eighth inches, and year before last Ben took Another Victory But at this point Bert’s voice vanished in the distance as I approached the pool on my stomach in a manner to win the ap- proval of any well-trained woodsman. The pool was all of four feet in diameter, and at least a foot deep, and it was guarded by a broad expanse of gluey and odorous mud, which had evidently been churned into a rich paste within a recent period by large numbers of cows, Maine natives and moose. Digging a few mosquitoes out of my eyes with a mud-covered hand, I cast cleverly into the pool and abstracted a four-inch chub. From the bank Bert burst into a flood of plaintive remarks. “Don’t that beat al!!”’ said he. ‘“‘I] wish it was three weeks later, or even two weeks later. The weather’s been a little dry, and I certainly wish you could be here in July. There ought to be some good fish in that pool. I took seven out of there in less than half an hour i Further careful casting resulted in a sec- ond chub four and three-quarters inches long, after which Bert, exuding reminis- cences of the numbers and sizes of the fish that he had abstracted from scores of neighboring pools, led me down into the meadow, where the pools were full of big fellers, to hear Bert tell it. As a result of the first day’s fishing four strong men, of whom at least two were trained woodsmen, failed to get enough trout for supper. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST What Price Chairitis? HAIRITIS—a nervous ailment, prevalent among sedentary workers, which results in a general lowering of efficiency and souring of the disposition. Symptoms vary from an uneasy feeling of discomfort to cramps and severe pains, particularly in the neck. Cure: Daily use of the Sikes Office Easy Chair Chairitis, like most other diseases, is partly physical and partly psychological. Sitting 6 to 8 hours in an uncomfortable chair is about as fatiguing, physically and mentally, as anything you can imagine. And one chair that squeaks and groans in its revolving mechanism can easily get the nerve of an entire office force. Our first problem in the creation of the Sikes Office Easy Chair was to make it comfortable. The solution was the famous ‘““body-conforming’’ design, which fits the chair to the natural shape of the human frame. The next problem was to make the Sikes Office Easy Chair not only comfortable but noiseless. The result is the Sikes self-lubricating chair iron, which assures years of smooth, easy, silent operation on the original lubrica- tion given it at the factory. A Sikes Office Easy Chair costs no more than the ordinary office chair, and there is a Sikes dealer near you. A word to the wise is worth two to the otherwise. The Sikes Self-Oiling Revolving Mechanism SIKES COMPANY $&aissesis PHILADELPHIA

Page 200

198 THE SATURDAY DOOR CL - ph 2 . ae Lenn i Power Plants Pare ce ee D y~> : As the door is opened the power of a highly tempered steel pee } spring is stored up, waiting to be released. When your hand : lets go of the door-knob the spring unwinds, promptly start- ing the closing action, which is controlled by a piston work- ing within its cylinder against hydraulic pressure. Make your doors complete in their functions. Enjoy the comfort of knowing that they will always close gently but surely—and always under perfect control. Write for our booklet, ‘‘The Silent Doorman.”’ sf ay The YALE Forged Crank Shaft The crank shaft is made of one piece of drop-forged steel of great strength and rigid- ity. Aiter being The YALE Power Unit machined, it is , ne . carefully ground Made under exacting specifications . : 4 s to gauge to in- as to length, thickness, width and Dine 96 i ae ‘ sure a perfect fit. winding. Assures effective and con- stant power. No deterioration in efficiency. 4 Sle Ch AAMT es AEBS OE Tae Ti ihe emi z The YALE | Regulating ss Valve fi Allows simple | i P ‘ an a and positive : ’ ; The YALE Connecting Rod control of the closing speed of the bs Unusually heavy; attached to the door under all conditions. The 3 piston by alarge pin. Itsconstruction valve is slightly below the center eliminates the tendency to tilt, pre- line of the cylinder, insuring a o ™ ) venting constant wear and leakage. smooth automatic checking action. THE YALE & TOWNE MBG. CO. aval, c —~, Stamford, Conn., U.S. A. : | ( Canadian Branch at St. Catharines, Ont. 7 ee \ ee + a ae Ca Bi SIRS SI eigen ellie ihe I 2 ae Maes Bo FEF YALE MARKED IS YALE MADE A + id a la i AAR ci UN) «Ga EVENING POST On the second day the upper reaches of the Sheepscot were fished. The record num- ber of fish taken from any one pool was one. The record length was nine inches. The consensus of opinion between Ben and Bert, at the end of the day, was that it was certainly a shame that we couldn’t come up a little later—say, in July. On the third day Ben led me to the broad quick water of George’s Stream, where the monster fish lurk beneath the banks and the big bowlders—if one believes all that one hears. Out of George’s Stream nobody got anything at all—due, Ben thought, to the fact that we were a little early. Two weeks, he thought, ought to make a great difference. If I could have come up in July now. So early on the following morning I left for home, happy in the knowledge that an- other protest had been relegated to the background, and ready to wrestle with the final protest to which I would be able to give consideration. This final protest had emanated from a personage of great importance in govern- ment circles. Since it is fashionable to apply nicknames to government officials to speak of President Coolidge, for exam- ple, as a White House Spokesman—the nickname of General X will be applied to this personage of great importance for the purposes of this narrative. It is probable that one nickname more or less means little in his life because of the great numbers of unprintable nicknames that have been ap- plied to him by United States senators, especially by the more incompetent and useless United States senators, who are constantly afflicted with a flux of tiresome and futile talk. The protest that emanated from General X was milder than most protests that had been hurled in my teeth by outraged anglers. There was no doubt, General X admitted, that wherever one went trout fishing, the fishing always failed to come up to specifications. In the matter of trout fishing in America, however, there was one exception to the general rule, and he had found it. It was located in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, in Southern Colorado, and would I kindly accompany him there, since I owed it to myself and to the world at large to make a first-hand study of trout that bit when they were expected to bite, and that bit what they were expected to bite, and that bit where they were expected to bite, and for whom no excuses needed to be made, such as: ‘“‘ The water’s a little too high today and of course you can’t expect the trout to bite; but if you'll come back in September they’ll probably be biting.” The King of Wildcatters Enthusiastic claims of this nature are not uncommon in angling circles; but General X’s long record of accuracy and modera- tion of statement caused his claims to carry vastly more weight than the average fish- ing claims. The services of Mr. Ben Ames Williams were consequently enlisted, in order that the party might have the advice and companionship of a trained woodsman; and in due season General X’s party ar- rived in the ultra-hospitable city of Denver, Colorado, and was ultra-hospitably re- ceived by Col. Albert E. Humphreys, the owner, controller, chaperon and guardian of all the trout in the wide demesne in which General X proposed to do his fishing. It seems that the colonel is what is known in Western parlance as a wildcatter. A wildcatter is a person who goes into a sec- tion of the country that is generally re- garded as valueless, but where he has rea- son to believe there are ore deposits, coal deposits or oil, and prospects for these valu- ables with the utmost vigor. The enthusi- asm with which Colonel Humphreys plunged into this form of endeavor, coupled with his success at it, caused him to be known in the West as the king of the wild- catters. He was one of several men to open up the Mesaba Iron Range; he developed gold, silver and lead mines in the Kootenay country of British Columbia; he opened up November 6, 1926 great coal deposits in West Virginia; he discovered and developed many silver and lead mines in Colorado; and he finally made some very large oil strikes in Okla- homa, Wyoming and Texas—two of his notable operations being the discovery of the Big Muddy oil field in Wyoming, the opening of the great oil field along the Baleonnes Fault in Texas, and the dis- covery of the big Wortham field near Mexia, Texas. For many years Colonel Humphreys had been so addicted to fishing that no trout was safe while he was in the vicinity—a fact that is borne out by his holding, through many years, the presidency of the Izaak Walton League of Colorado. During his mining days in Colorado, when he owned and operated a stamping mill in the celebrated mining town of Creede, he fished for trout in a beautiful canyon that extended up to the very backbone of the Lockies—the Continental Divide. In that canyon the cutthroat trout had the reddest bellies that were ever seen on a cutthroat trout, and the rainbow trout had far brighter rainbows down the center of each side than could be observed on other rain- bow trout. Furthermore, they were always suffering from the pangs of hunger, if the eagerness with which they inhaled trout flies was any criterion; and, probably due to the snow-chilled water in which they lived, the vigor with which they hurled themselves from their native element to take a fly or to eject a hook was such that persons with weak hearts were advised to forgo fishing and read a book. Simple Camp Life These things frequently led Colonel Humphreys to remark that if he ever struck it really rich he proposed to buy the beauti- ful canyon and turn it into a fishing preserve in which the trout could relax and enjoy themselves. Eventually he struck it really rich; and since that time the trout in the beautiful canyon have been, as the say- ing goes, well fixed. From Denver the colonel led the way up into the mountains, along the fertile San Luis. Valley and past the jagged and end- less range of the Sangre de Cristo Moun- tains; and finally, nearly two hundred miles from Denver and nearly two miles above sea level, the party came to a gash in the mountains known as Wagon Wheel Gap. Beyond Wagon Wheel Gap, a pad- locked gate barred the road into a narrow canyon; and some seven miles up this can- yon, behind a towering concrete dam that blocked the canyon from side to side, dwelt the millionaire trout, theoretically ready for business at any hour of the day or night, and even anxious—according to General X —to come up to specifications. The building of the dam across the can- yon had resulted in the formation of a com- modious lake, and into the upper end of the lake poured the tumbling waters of Goose Creek, cold from the everlasting snows of the Continental Divide and protected from the sun by the high walls of the canyon through which it raced. “You see,” said the colonel, “just a sim- ple little place; nothing much; nothing but log cabins.” The log cabins concealed baths in which the water ran freely, beds fitted with com- fortable mattresses and large electric heat- ers to ward off the chill of Colorado nights. Two foreign cars were parked negligently behind the chief log cabin. Half a dozen saddle horses dozed comfortably at the tie- up. On the hill slope behind the chief log cabin a swimming pool shimmered in the sun. “‘Heater,’’ said the colonel indicating a structure higher up the mountain side. It was a commodious boiler, into which a Mexican patiently fed large logs, so that the mountain water that flowed down through it and into the swimming pool might be pleasingly warmed. The colonel swung his hand around the lake and pointed to a little log cabin at the water’s edge. ‘Power house,” said he. (Continued on Page 200)

Page 201

SATURDAY EVENING POST Growth in use of Sheet Steel 1} } ' | | | " ae {oo — = G CF 909 =e | ‘Why this swing to SHEET STEEL: From 1009 to 1926 the demand for Sheet Steel increased more And the wall take a one-hour fire rating. C than 400 per cent—a striking tribute to the quality of service Sheet Steel frat ework, doors, trim, wall panels, | rendered by this modern material. roofs, every piece of combustible can | We travel today in rugged Sheet Steel trains or motor cars which insure maximum safety. This same Sheet Steel trans pce i ei | portation that has brought the products of the world to your Beauty has been made useable for both ofhces and hor I door, has given you the world for a market. == ishes can be aj Sheet Steel tl ' 7 A Pe = | } : “ ’ smoke and wear iguid spilled on Sheet St The buildings we occupy are being made fire safe TEC noke and wear. Liquid spilled ‘ | - - P & Oo } rmless iwarette in hurn itself it C} through Sheet Steel construction and equipment “Skane a A ciga ee wenn - c z : |, oe RIN Kaewe Sicet Avoanér ait Kat See files, desks, cabinets, doors, window sash and trim. — ¢n galvanized Sheet ee ee eee ee . 1 1 1.7 Fires cannot gain headway where combustibles are ms ; It atural that this superior s eofS S broken up into small quantities and confined in p leading to an ever-widening ra fs f | Sheet Steel. . . = m or dustry for sch ls ind institutions, for mune { | Metal lath, a Sheet Steel product, has made the I las oa yee tages ie 4 farms and homes Informatior n request SHE! } j b . . terer an artisan. Permanent Deauty of texture and color can be built into both interiors and exteriors. COMMITTEE spec ING, PirTsBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA , SHEETSTEEL , me o r SERVICE , rb

Page 202

REC US PAT_OFF. ANO CALCIUM OG OGAS PUFF or two in each rathole with the Cyanogas Duster will do it. Cyanogas A-Dust gives off a poison gas that rats cannot escape. It kills them almost instantly. Just as effectiveagainst ground hogs, woodchucks, prairie dogs, moles and ants. Ask yourdealer forCyanogas A-Dust; or send us $2.00 for trial outfit of 1 Ib. tin and special duster with hose for killing rats. Sent express collect. Send for free Leaflet 12 AMERICAN CYANAMID SALES COMPANY, INC. 511 Fifth Ave. New York, N. Y. Cyanogas should not be used in dwell- ings or confined spaces where the fumes may endanger human beings. Have you cold radiators? AIRID AIR VALVES _ make radiators HOT/ | oe) ibe AIRID Air Valves make cold radiators hot. Attach easily to any steam radiator without tools—need no adjusting— never leak—make no noise. Sold at heating and plumbing stores. Only $1.60. Made and guaranteed by the world’s largest manufacturers of heating equipment. AMERICAN RADIATOR COMPANY 816°So. Michigan Ave.; Chicago AL coe eee —— metant de hand; 9 mer Pe a t one 1 mabe $5000 ¢ © $10 000 annually The Miles F. | Silver Doctor and a Royal Coachman, Bixler Co., Sales Dept. 2010 Buelid Ave., Cleveland, Ohio THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 198) From the log cabin a mighty jet of water gushed out into the lake, providing elec- tricity for the entire camp; and in the foam of the jet two large rainbow trout playfully did a wild, free one-step. The colonel’s hand swung still farther, towara a large log cabin across the lake. ‘“‘Fish hatchery,” said he tersely, ‘‘and hatchery lake.”” In this log cabin the millionaire trout are born and in the hatchery lake they are educated to millionaire standards before being al- lowed to run at large in the waters of the big lake, and to associate with millionaires. A simple little place, indeed! Just as simple as a blue print of a printing press or the insides of a raccoon. The water escaped from the lake through a spillway that led from the dam down into the canyon a hundred feet below, and at the beginning of the spillway was stretched a wire, just beneath the surface of the water. “Charged wire,” said the colonel con- tentedly. “Fifty thousand trout a year used to back up to the spillway and slide down into the canyon backward. Now they back down until their tails touch the wire, and there they get a shock that shoots them all the way across the lake and half- way up tothe Continental Divide. Good for ‘em, too; educates ’em and gives ’em an electrical massage at the same time.”” This might possibly be called a part of the gradu- ation exercises of the educated trout. It emphasizes, in a manner of speaking, the simplicity. The genuinely educated trout are the large trout, thirteen and fourteen and fif- teen inches in length. They not only know the difference between such artificial flies as a Brown Hackle and a Black Gnat and a but they know the difference between a million- aire and an author. They toy lightly with thé flies that authors cast over their favor- ite haunts, nipping at the feathers and slapping contemptuously at them with their tails; but when a millionaire casts a fly over their homes they suck it in vora- ciously. I do not pretend to explain this fact; I merely offer it as a statement, with the idea of letting ichthyologists explain it if they can. The Result of Higher Education For example, the scene is a small park between two of the series of canyons through which Goose Creek runs. Tied to an ancient pine in the middle of the park is a horse, while the horse’s temporary mas- ter, an Eastern author who rather fancies himself as a fisherman, is industriously cast- ing his fly into a clear deep pool at a bend in the stream. At the bottom of the pool can be seen six or eight fine fat twelve and thirteen and fourteen inch rainbow trout, holding them- selves in place against the cold rush of the current by an occasional voluptuous wag- gle. As the author’s fly settles above them and moves in a lifelike manner across the pool, they roll their eyes cynically at it. They are educated trout. Occasionally one rises and gives the feathers of the fly an experimental tweak. Occasionally a small uneducated trout dashes out and absorbs the fly, and is tossed back with a sore lip for his pains. The author changes from a Black Gnat to a Ginger Quill, and from a Ginger Quill to a Royal Coachman, and from a Royal Coach- man to a dozen other varieties of flies. He fishes upstream, downstream and across EVENING POST stream. He fishes the pool for two hours without hooking one of the big boys that lie at the bottom of the pool. They see that he is not a millionaire. The Colorado sun is hot, and the two- mile altitude makes the author peevish and short of breath. So he gives it up, places his rod on the bank, removes his garments and enters the ice-cold water below the pool. Somewhat refreshed, he emerges to dry himself before donning his clothes and going home. And then it occurs to him that possibly the trout cannot know, if he wears no clothes, whether he is a million- aire or an author. So, all wet and naked, he casts his fly alongside a floating fleck of foam. In- stantly an enormous trout surges up and annexes the fly with a thrilling splash, and simultaneously the air is shattered by wild howls of excitement and distress. The au- thor is far removed from his landing net, the shore of the stream is heavily grown up to thistles and the trout is excessively active. A Fisherman’s Excuse The trout dashes from end to end of the pool, and the author accompanies it by dashing along the bank, stepping on a thistle at nearly every step, and emitting poignant cries of anguish as each thistle is encountered. The fight proceeds briskly for five min- utes, for six minutes; every square inch of the author’s legs has been punctured by thistles; the trout is beginning to tire. The author sneaks up on it, determined to clutch it to his breast if necessary. Just then the trout looks up and gets its first good glimpse of its captor. Instantly it ties itself into a howknot and frees itself from the hook. It is an educated trout, and has recognized the author as no millionaire. That night the tale of the extra-large and extra-active educated trout is told by the author to Colonel Humphreys and General X, both of whom are millionaires. At ten o'clock on the following morning Colonel Humphreys and General X dismount from their horses on the bank of the pool. At 10:15 o’clock the extra-large trout is twitch- ing nervously at the bottom of the gen- eral’s fish basket—nervously, but probably proudly. He is an educated trout. I know of no other way in which to explain the fact that the general and Colonel Humphreys invariably caught the largest fish. Fishing standards are as different among the haunts of educated trout as the Colo- rado atmosphere and surroundings are different from the atmosphere and sur- roundings of New England. In most parts of America one proceeds to a trout brook by automobile, applies citronella or other fly dope to the face, hands, hair, forearms and hatband, makes an effort not to stumble over the other fishermen who are busily en- gaged in fishing the same brook, and dan- gles a wounded angleworm in a majestic waterway some thirty-three inches wide. In the home of the educated trout, to use an angleworm for trout bait is considered as foul an act as to push one’s little sister down a well or to eat sugar on beefsteak. Other fishermen are never encountered. The use of citronella or other insect deter- rents is unknown, inasmuch as the sight of a mosquito or a biting fly is so rare as to give rise to a considerable amount of dinner-table conversation. The use of an automobile in reaching any fishing spot is also an undeveloped art, owing to the fact that there are no roads up Goose Creek November 6,1926 Canyon. One rides up it on horseback, and the conformation of the trail is such that one frequently finds himself looking straight down between his horse’s ears at the stream a quarter of a mile or so below. It is common knowledge among constant riders at Wagon Wheel Gap that any horse that travels the canyon trails is frequently obliged to lean so far away from the ragged edge that if his rider expectorates from the left-hand side of the horse, the expectora- tion lands on the horse’s right-hand side. There are various things to see along the mountain trails, as one fares forth to cap- ture the educated trout in his lair, so that only the most confirmed city dweller is saddened by the absence of small tin auto- mobiles that hurl dust and gravel in the faces of all other travelers, and by the lack of alien fishermen that scatter empty to- bacco tins and luncheon wrappings along the brook sides. The fields and mountain sides are cov- ered with baffling varieties of rock roses, delphiniums, columbines, phloxes, snap- dragons, mallows, gentians, asters, butter- cups, bluebells, lilies, Indian paintbrushes, primroses, geraniums, mustards, capers, milkweeds, pinks, heather, orchids, decora- tive grassesand other nameless plants in such profusion that a botanist could easily spend two weeks in traveling a hundred yards. Countless gophers, marmots, chipmunks and oddly colored woodchucks dodge petu- lantly from beneath the horses’ hoofs. An occasional porcupine clatters and pants off the trail. Black-tailed deer bounce into sight high up on the mountain slope and nervously bounce out of sight again. Great crested Rocky Mountain jays flash in and out of the trees like animated black opals, complaining raucously at some imaginary wrong. A family of ptarmigan in their brown summer dress hustles briskly into the scrub. Hawks and an occasional eagle wheel languidly around the mountain tops. The hot Colorado sun scorches the back of the neck, and an occasional thundercloud growls morosely as it catches its fleecy over- coat on a cliff edge. A pleasing and ab- sorbing country, in very truth! The General Demonstrates No excuses have to be made for the edu- cated trout. The fisherman either gets them or he doesn’t get them; and when he doesn’t get them—which he frequently doesn’t—he curses himself instead of the fish. The fish are always there. General X led his Eastern guests to the banks of Goose Creek to initiate them into fishing for educated trout. ‘‘You can get ’em in the rifles or you can get ‘em in the pools,’’ explained the general. ‘‘See, like this.””, He dropped his fly where the quick water raced past a bowlder, and a large, red-stomached cutthroat trout seized it voraciously. Ben, the trained woodsman, promptly stepped into the water with a landing net; and the educated trout, nizing a nonmillionaire, immediately flipped itself free of the hook and vanished in the foaming current. ‘*Heh-heh-heh!”’ said the general. ‘‘ Get out of the way and I'll catch another!” This he promptly did. So the trained woodsmen from the East began to cast. One of them snaked a glis- tening rainbow-sided fish from the lower end of a pool. ‘‘He yt he shouted exult- antly. ‘‘Hey, Ben! Hey, general, here! Look what I got!” Continued on Page 202 recog- look ¥:

Page 203

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST +5 De ca: TNs I a $ » ag . — Ede b ¥ , 1 By Manufacturing and Selling Five Distinct Lines. with one Organization, Certain-teed Bridges ex- cessive Costs and is Able to Give You Extra Value. The whole system of Certain-teed operations is organized to give the public unusual value with each purchase. To accomplish this requires the utmost efficiency in selling and manufacturing— the elimination of all excess motions. Certain-teed has increased its productisu from one to five complete lines of products, without materi- ally enlarging its sales organization. In the manu- facturing end, all duplication of effort and over- lapping of costs are minimized. A single manage- ment directs the policies, the processes and the personnel of seventeen large plants. By these and other economical methods, Certain- teed bridges the heavy sales and manufacturing costs which burden so many companies. And thus it is able to put extra quality into all products without increasing their cost to you. LINOLEUM FLOORTEX (uz sass) OIL CLOTH GYPSUM PLASTERS BUILDING BLOCKS ASPHALT ROOFINGS ASPHALT SHINGLES BUILDING PAPERS BUILDING FELTS PAINTS - VARNISHES POLLEN NMS

Page 204

“Son, you certainly had good luck with this pop corn.” * “Sure, dad, | always have good luck when I pop Jolly Time Pop Corn.” Here's pop corn at its best! A superior variety of genuine Japanese Hullless Cor. Specially processed to get both taste-ability and pop-ability. Hermetic ally sealed to keep it always in perfect popping condition. Pop some tonight. It's so wholesome you can eat all you want. If your grocer can't supply you, send us his name and 1 cents for a full-sized can, postpaid, AMERICAN Pop CORN COMPANY World's Largest Exclusive Pop Corn Dealers Sroux Crry, Iowa Cnockas. wholesale and reveil tdty becomi. nga nati nd merchandising (< a CL The Original - a Wrist Watch Bracelef

Exquisitely beautiful, yet no delicate parts to fray or wear out. Can be at- tached to all watches. Made to fit any wrist, for man, woman, or child Claspets are priced within the reach of everyone—-$2.50 to $500.00. Jeweled, platinum, solid gold and gold filled in white, green and yellow, also in sterling silver. Sold by Retail Jewelers EVERYWHERE Manufactured by BATES & BACON 61-65 Union Street Attleboro, Mass. _——— <a Sows mes om ere

on heme Th con. dir 04 pore. rae le S. A. by Sea 1 EPH Ds aN CRUCIBLE o Pencil Dept. s-J 60% G a — Jersey City New Jersey

THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 2007" ‘Throw him back,” said the general coldly. “‘What do you mean—throw him back?” cried the captor peevishly. ‘‘ My goodness, it’s all of ten inches long!” “Yes,”’ said the general; ‘but nobody keeps ten-inch fish out here. Some days when they’re taking hold well we only keep twelve-inchers.”’ In vain the trained woodsmen from the East searched for someone to make excuses for the fish. “They aren’t biting,” they complained. ‘* Maybe we should have been here a month earlier, or maybe we should come back two weeks later.” “‘Nunno!” objected the Coloradoans. “You're casting your fly downstream, and you can’t see the trout when they rise. These trout, you know, are educated. The big ones don’t come up and gulp things down. They dash up and touch the fly, and when they find it’s artificial they spit it out. You can’t even feel ’em do it. So you have to fish upstream. When you fish up- stream, the sun shines on the trout when it rises, so that you see it; and the second you see it you pull, even though it hasn’t reached the fly. When it hits it, it’s moving so fast that it hooks it. See?” “Well,” protested the trained woods- men, ‘‘we’d probably do better if we fished EVENING POST at different times of day, wouldn't we, or in different sorts of weather?”’ “Hell, no,”’ replied the Coloradoans. “The trout bite here all the time. They even bite at night. They bite so fast at night that there’s a law in Colorado that forbids trout fishing after eight P.M.” Baffled, the trained woodsmen from the East devoted all their energies to equaling the fishing record of the general and Colonel Humphreys—who, being million- aires, couldn’t be overtaken by any mere proletarians from New England. The chief differences of opinion between those who fish for educated trout are over the numbers that are thrown back. Gen- eral X, for example, rides back from a trip up the canyon, dismounts stiffly and lights a pipe with an underslung bowl. “‘How many you got, general?” inquires Ben, climbing up wearily from the shore of the lake. The general abstracts a worn notebook from his hip pocket. ‘‘I got seventeen,’’ he announces positively, consulting Page 31 of the notebook, ‘‘and I threw back nine- teen. That makes a hundred and eighty- three that I’ve caught in all, and ninety-six that I’ve kept.’’ “Well,”’ says Ben, twenty-five.” Another trained woodsman from the East here enters the conversation. ‘‘I must “T threw back about November 6, 1926 have thrown back forty,”’ says he wearily, tilting back in his chair in order to alleviate the sore spots caused by the persistent trotting of his Rocky Mountain horse. The general, however, being an expert on reparations and other matters requiring accurate figures, is the only one that writes down his catch each day. A careful compu- tation based on the verbal estimates of some of his fishing companions tends to show that they throw back about three fish for every two minutes of fishing. The fishermen lay out their catches on the stone porch, surreptitiously stretching their largest fish in an effort to lengthen them half an inch or so. The womenfolk come out and pretend to admire them. **And how did you get along?’’ one hears them asking the proud fishermen night after night. ‘How was the fishing? Did you have to throw back many? Did you catch some big ones?”’ And one can almost hear them thinking: “‘If he answers me in detail I’ll get the gun and shoot him or polish him off with the ax! He'd better not say fish to me! I never want to see another fish again!”’ It is consequently safe to say that there are a few places left in America where the trout fishing comes up to the standards set by the novelists and the poets of the great outdoors. But the trout have to be edu- cated. THE GRIGSBY FORMULA he’s white, naturalized, and able to get a driver’s license anywheres. He owns all the lumber camps and sawmills and every- thing in the great city of Shoalsville, if you know what I mean, and he’s got an income like a bootlegger.”’ ““And why am I getting all this?’’ Mar- gie asks. “Listen, and don’t trip me,” I says. “‘Grigsby’s folks are all dead, and he’s a lonely little guy, and he ain’t learning about women from nobody at present. To- day you had him jumping into the boat of his own free will, and beginning tomorrow he will be downtown every morning till his loose change gives out, which can be watched on his margin slate. A word toa | wise girl is one too many, but we're talking confidential now, and my advice is to gather ye each shining hour while ye may, and you might yet be the first lady of this Shoalsville and adjacent points. I’ll coach and pinch-hit and carry the bats for you, and all I ask in return is for you to keep | Gus believing that Larry Owens, the hand- some head order clerk at Reilly & Wilson’s, is the only high-class party in Wall Street who it’s safe and sound to do business with. How about it?” ““You’re commonplace and low and vul- gar,” says Margie, “‘but I think I see what you mean. I might keep your remarks in mind, but don’t crowd me.” When I got down to the office the next morning Grigsby was there already and couldn’t wait to tell me he was all fixed to get the first leg on the fifty thousand by buying Universal Carpet. Out of all the stocks on the list he had to pick that one. “Of course it’s your money,” I said to him,*‘ but did you read the morning paper?” “‘T never do,” he says. ‘It is only waste of time.” “Well, you better read this,” I said, and I showed him where the president of the Universal Carpet had come out and an- nounced they wouldn't increase the stock’s dividend now or probably not for a long time to come. “Everybody's been buying Carpet for a month or two on the tip the dividend would be raised,’’ I explained to Grigsby. ‘“‘It’s already gone up from around 25 to above 46 on that idea, and now the official boss tells the world the dividend will stay right where it is, at a dollar a year. You don’t want to buy it on top of that, do you?” “Certainly I do,”’ says the nut. ‘‘I am being guided by my formula and I can’t pay (Continued from Page 15) attention to trifles in the newspapers. Please don’t bother me with them.” Well, I knew he would have to get his shock sometime, and I thought it might as well be early. So I just asked him how much Universal Carpet he wanted to buy, and I found out that was a foolish question, too, because his only idea was to buy as much as he could. I kept him down to five hundred shares, telling him that was all his five thousand margin would stand, and I put in the order to buy it at the opening of the market. On account of the president’s speech, Carpet naturally opened with a break, and we got Grigsby’s five hundred for him at 42, which was four points down from the closing the day before. In five minutes more it was down further to 40, and I went out in the customers’ room to see how he was standing it. He was sitting by the ticker, alongside of Old Man Cook and another regular tapeworm by the name of Harry Kelly. As I come up I heard Cook say: “So, after you read all about the divi- dend, you decided it ought to be bought, did you? Jumping Christopher, I call that genius! It makes me believe in evolution. And you got hooked at 42, did you?” “‘T think I was fortunate to get it at such a concession,” says Grigsby. ‘‘ Yesterday it was at 46.” “Sure you was fortunate,’”’ says Cook. “And wasn’t it fortunate, too, that you got so much of it? You might of bought less and not had so much loss by this time. That would of been hard luck, wouldn’t it?”’ “Why,” says Grigsby, “T have no loss at all.’”’ “No loss!” old Cook barks. ‘“Carpet’s down two points from where you bought it, ain't it? Don’t you call that a Ain’t you out a thousand on your five hun- dred shares already? Here it is on the tape—three hundred Carpet at 40.” ““But those are not my shares,” says Grigsby. ‘‘Mine were recorded several minutes ago—five hundred of them—and the price was 42.” ‘“*I begin to understand you,” says Cook after he got through coughing. ‘You mean that the stock being down now to 40 don’t affect your stock that you paid 42 for.” “Of course not,” “How could it?” ‘**Larry,”’ says Cook te can suct ." ” blinking at him, loss? Grigsby told him. me, “‘I ask you, things be? “It’s a newrule,” says Kelly. ‘“‘ He made it up himself, and if you ask me, it’s a good one. See if he’s got any more,” I could see they would be making a monkey out of Grigsby if I let him stay around there, so I got him away on the excuse of telling him I had found out Margie Deever lived with her family up in the Bronx and spent all her spare time mak- ing dresses for her little sisters. ‘Please don’t let her know I asked,”’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t care to have her know I was curious, but I think she is a very charming young lady.”’ “She's all that,”’ I told him, “and any time you might want to dictate any per- sonal letters of your own, I know she'll be glad to do them for you.” **What a good idea,” he says. ‘‘ Perhaps I could send some instructions to my su- perintendent this afternoon, if you don’t think Miss Deever will be occupied.” Of course I fixed that up for him, and him and Margie was a little better ac- quainted when I dug him out just before the market closed to tell him Universal Carpet had rallied to above 43, where he could get out of his five hundred with a little profit if he wanted to. “Very well,”’ says Grigsby when I told him. ‘Please sell my shares for 55.” “Fifty-five!’”’ I says. ‘‘That’s twelve points higher still. When do you expect it to go there?” “T can’t tell that,” he formula is definite on price, time.” “‘And what’s going to put Carpet to 55 anyhow?” I asked him. ‘It’s only up this afternoon on covering by the traders that sold it short on the news this morning With them covered up, and with only a one-dollar dividend and no prospects, it’s likely to break wide open tomorrow. It’s more liable to go to 25 than 55.” “Oh, you’re quite wrong,”’ says Grigsby “T am sure the price will rise to 55 in a short time.” And I'm here to say it did. It went to 57 in about four days. The crowd that was handling Carpet in the market just let the wise boys sell the stock short on that divi dend statement, and then simply squeezed them to death. Grigsby sold out at 55, like he said he would, and took a profit of over six thousand; and he had Old Man Cook tearing his hair by telling him the jump had been an absolutely sure thing all along. The admits. but “My not on Continued on Page 205

Page 205

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST OW WE Can myite: i, e Clan MHONS os ae j Tos know how it is es WITH YOUNG MARRIED FOLKS... . i 2 WHY, HALF THE THRILL OF HOUS! KEEPING COMES IN ADDING A FEW Dy le NEW POSSESSIONS NOW AND THEN 1 J me — \ p* > &S ° " {.- es Can't you just feel the tingling thrill of this ever-so-lovely chest of silver? The very first result of Bob’s new raise! Having regained a wee bit of breath, the ever-practical Martha exclaims “Now we can invite the Tarringtons, or the Ambroses, or just ANYBODY at all! Why we can even have the entire family over for a regular Thanksgiving dinner!” “You said it, honey!” is Bob’s cheery comment, “Give a party and invite the whole town!” What a joyous thrill to select at the jewelry store, beautiful and useful gifts. They possess an enduring J j l ! 4 ts : : ee charm that grows more precious with pdssing years rl FTS THAT (onsult your Jeweler : C

Page 206

4 7 . — Yue =: \ ~ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

cw Ey

> ras: we =

ts paper that carries The Sales Message -its the right paper

that ge. buy business stationery at the fewest dollars per thousand sheets is invariably to buy the least number of favorable impressions per thousand letters. Study the cost of your letters, includ- ing the time of the man who dictates them: consider the object for which they are written, and you will find that a penny saved in paper cost is a dollar lost in your net profits. The Specification Chart will bring Purchasing Agent and Sales Manager together on a common ground. It will help the Purchasing Agent to get highest paper value per dollar expend- ed, and the Sales Manager to secure maximum results from his sales letters. Make the Specification Chart your guide to ‘“‘The Right Paper for the Purpose’’. This Chart lists and sug- gests the uses of Bond Paper in mod- ern business, and indicates for each use one or more of the Nine Stand- ardized Eagle-A Bonds. The Chart assures the right price, as well as the right paper, because these Nine Standardized grades, covering all business requirements, are made in volume by the world’s largest makers of fine papers, with every resulting economy in production and distribu- tion. May we send you four paper buying guides— T he Primer— T he Chart—a booklet ‘‘ The Correct Use of Bond Papers''—and sample Portfolio of Eagle-A Bond Papers? AMERICAN -WRITING:-PAPER: COMPANY Makers of Eagle-A Writing, Printing, Specialty and Industrial Papers Holyoke, Massachusetts November 6, 1926

. | >? ee > ~ ™ i / =. ad 2 Vad Zu — ) Pe ~ ’ Cip-sayith uf bas, a «A / Mkeias 17 > y 4 fal Minis » w/e 4 tis , . (A SS J FH yy ea Y , , “23 - > y/ _ an A PaeRT i eeeees | aaa @\ BEST PAPERS, [> ARE MADE A= oy FROM TAMON femx BusinessPAPERS

Page 207

> (Continued from Page 202) old man went short of a couple of hundred himself around 48, and got trimmed for about a thousand, so naturally he was crabbed. “‘It was his formula that made the money for him,” says Cook to Harry Kelly. “Do you know what a formula is?” “Sure,” says Kelly. “It tells you how to fix the baby’s milk.” “Right!” says Cook. “ And wait till you see what the next bottle will do to this baby.” “ At that,’”’ Kelly points out, “‘Grigsby’s got some velvet to play against.” “All beginners get that,” says Cook, “but it don’t last long. He'll make a big- ger bet next time and he’ll be twice as stuck on his chart.” And Grigsby done just that. There was a stock called Federal Coal & Oil that was beginning to show a little pep after being dead for years, and that was the thing Grigsby picked out to buy the next day after he cleaned up on the Universal Car- pet. “You're the boss,”’ I told him, “but if I was you I wouldn’t go into that one very heavy. They tell me the kind of buying that’s been going on in Federal don’t look so good, and it’s likely to flop back and go to sleep again, and there might not be any bid for it when you want to sell out.” But he didn’t think that way at all, and he said he was going to buy all his account would stand. With the stock selling around 35, that was fifteen hundred shares, so that was what we bought for him, paying up above 36 for some of it. When old Cook heard about the thing he had a great laugh. “What do you know about Federal Coal?” he asked Grigsby. ‘‘Do you even know what it is or where it is?” “T expect it to rise to 50 at least,’’ says Grigsby. “Why?” says Cook. “It ain’t earned a dollar in ten years. It ain’t mined a ton of coal in five. The only oil it ever owned was what it bought to run the machinery on. There’s more bonds out than the whole property’s worth. Why, them Stock Ex- change people ought to be locked up for keeping a thing like that on the list where the insiders can keep the price up and fool the public into paying good money for what ain’t worth a nickel. Still you think it’s going to 50. I suppose your chart says SO. “Yes,”’ blinks Grigsby, “‘my formula in- dicates fifty dollars a share at least.” “Sure you didn’t point off wrong?” says Cook. “It might of been fifty cents. Do you use any facts at all when you make up your dope?” “T include all conditions which statistics show are influential,’’ Grigsby told him. “Of course I include the element of chance.” ‘“* How can you work that in?”’ Cook asks. ‘“‘T use a very simple device that is some- what mechanical,” says Grigsby, and Cook threw up his hands. “Jumping Christopher,"’ he cackles, “he’s playing the market by machinery! Why don’t you wear overalls around here?”’ “Even so,”’ says Harry Kelly, pointing on the tape, “this Federal stuff is up to 39 while you're talking about it.” “ Naturally,” says Grigsby, and Old Man Cook grabbed his hat and went out. In a couple of days after that Federal Coal was up to 42 and I was begging Grigsby to clean up. He had about ten thousand profit in it by then and I wanted him to take that and get out. But all he would do was turn his goggles on me and tell me to sell it at 50 as soon as possible. ‘But it might never go to 50, or it might take a long time anyhow,” I told him. ‘What's the use of being stubborn when you got such a sure thing now?” But it wasn’t any use. I got hold of Margie Deever that day after the market closed. “Princess,” I says, “your boy friend don’t seem to recognize real money when he meets it. By this time don’t you know him well enough to tell him different?” THE SATURDAY “‘ How would I know him?” says Margie. “Every day he gets me to take a letter for him, and it’s always the same letter. Wouldn’t you think a man would have more imagination?” “ Grigsby’s got plenty,’’ I said, “ but now he’s using it all on Federal Coal.” And I showed her how he was missing a chance to collect ten thousand profit by sticking to his rifle bullets and things. “Well, couldn’t he be right?” “So could I be right,” I told her, “and cashing in on a ten-thousand-dollar ticket can’t be wrong any way you figure it. Of course this bird is crazy, and he’s certain to go broke sooner or later, but I want to string him out as long aa I can. Be a good girl, princess, and slip him the idea how this Federal Coal is known by one and all for a bum stock that is intended only for suckers.” “Why should I try and influence him?” asks Margie. ‘It’s nothing to me.” “You can't tell what any rainy day might bring forth,” I said. ‘‘You’d be America’s uncrowned queen with him in one jump if you give him the right steer on Federal Coal.” “Didn't you just say Mr. Grigsby was sure to lose all his money anyhow?” she says. “They all do,”’ I told her. “ Maybe he’s different from most of them, but not that different. Still, some lasts longer than others.” ““T don’t see how I can help you,” says Margie, “and yet I might get a chance, at that. Who can tell?” Then next day Federal Coal jumped an- other three points to above 45, and Margie caught me coming back from lunch. “‘T was talking to Mr. Grigsby about that stock last night,"’ she told me. “Oh,” I says, “he dictates them letters at night, does he?”’ “He come to call,’’ says Margie. “He is a perfect gentleman, and you might make a note he made the grade with my mother right away. We went out to a picture and he told me all about the Federal Coal & Oil stock. I am certain it will go up to 50 like he expects.” ‘“‘T suppose he showed you how he makes up his dope,’’ I said. “ They have such good light in the movies you must of been able to see it plain and clear.” “Some of it is so simple you might be able to understand it yourself,’ she says. ‘Besides, didn’t I hear this morning that the stock has kept on going up?” I couldn’t come back on that one, and in fact I handed it out again afterward to Old Man Cook, when he was telling me what a crime it was I didn’t get Grigsby out of his Federal even if I had to use a gun on him. “It’s going his way, ain’t it?”’ I asked Cook. “If he ain’t suffering, why should you be?” “It’s only an accident, like the fool play he made in Carpet,”’ says Cook. “ He's just a lucky beginner, but I hate to see even a boob like him overstay his market and miss out on a big profit.” “What a pity you ain’t got a little to miss out on yourself,’’ says Harry Kelly. “Why didn’t you and me buy some instead of being so crafty and kidding h‘s system?” “Me?” Cook yelps. ‘‘ Me buy that Fed- eral? Why, I wouldn’t be found dead with the stuff.” “Why not?” says Kelly. “Don’t you make the same kind of money in that as you would make in anything else? Couldn't you spend it in the same places?” “Federal ain't worth the paper it’s printed on,”’ Cook grouches. “ You can see that by the balance sheet. Look what it owes the banks. I learnt to keep out of swamps like that a long time ago. Any- body’s welcome to all the money he gets out of a thing like Federal Coal.” And look what happened! Less than a week after that the news comes out that the Hilltop Petroleum had bought up control of Federal Coal in the market, and was ready to pay 52 a share for all the rest of the stock that was outstanding. Of course, the price had shot up by then, and Grigsby’s EVENING POST fifteen hundred shares went out at 50, with a profit of about twenty-two thousand for him. “Well,” I says to old Cook, “who's loony now?” “It’s just one of them swindles, and you can’t tell me Grigsby wasn’t let in on it,” says the old man. “It’s the insiders pulling off a crooked deal, buying up Federal cheap in the market between 30 and 35 and then turning it into Hilltop at 52. That’s the kind of thing that gets the stock market a bad name. If the Stock Exchange don’t | stop things like that it will be put out of | business, and it ought to be.’ “ What's the Stock Exchange done now?” I asked him. “Wasn't it on the Stock Exchange where the people that owned Federal was de- | ceived into selling out their stock cheap to the insiders below 35?” he says. “When it was at 35,” I said, “you was yelling that the Stock Exchange ought to | be arrested for keeping it on the list where | poor boobs could be bunked into paying | that much for such a gold brick.” “Me?” says Cook. “When did I say that? Just tell me when I said anything like that. You must be crazy.” It wasn’t my job to get in a fight with a customer, so I went out to see Margie Deever. I thought I would get a good razz from her, but all she said was “‘Ain’t science just wonderful?” “T’ll admit I was wrong,” I told her, “but just the same that dope won't always work so good.” By this time, as you might know, the firm and the whole office was talking about the way Grigsby had rolled five thousand up to over thirty in two plays. You can imagine I didn’t duck any of the credit Mr. Reilly give me for getting in such a good customer. “Don’t let him overtrade,”’ says Mr. Reilly, “but of course don’t discourage him neither. Try and get him into stocks of a better class than the ones he has dealt in so far.” On account of that last remark I was glad when Grigsby told me the next thing his system tipped him off on was Allied Elec- tric. That was a high-grade stock, paying good dividends and selling around 120, only it had a bad habit of making wide fluctua- tions all of a sudden, maybe for no reason at all. As usual Grigsby wanted to buy all he could of it, but I showed him how he needed a big margin, so what he bought was fifteen hundred shares again. It cost him an average of about 122. “That machine of yours is getting some sense,”’ says old Cook when he heard what Grigsby done this time. ‘Allied Electric has been sticking out on the tape for a cou- ple of weeks. I've been watching it, and | heard something about it, and I never seen anything act better. I’ve been going to pick up some myself.” Of course he was only following Grigsby, but you wouldn't expect him to admit that He bought a hundred shares at 122! and another hundred at 123, and I guess that must of started the war. The same after noon the whole market got weak, and Allied Electric closed at 119. That was the start. It opened up a litt'» the next day and then hit the slide again. I'll say it went fast. Old Man Cook's twi hundred went overboard at 115, and after that he begun to bark at Grigsby. He was almost happy again when the stock closed down around 111. “That’s a fine system you've got, ain’t it?’’ he says to Grigsby. ‘‘Cost me nearly two thousand the first time I tried it, so I know how good it is. What did you do forget to oil the machinery? Or maybe you put too much gin in the boiler.” “My formula is not at fault. This de- cline is only temporary,” says Grigsby, blinking as usual. “So's your margin,”’ says Cook. need your check book soon.” The fact was he needed it right then. The break to 111 had dented his account for about seventeen thousand, and he only had (Continued on Page 207) “You'll What Money-Making Plan Could Be Better for You? You furnish: Only a few hours of your spare time when conven- ient. We furnish: ] A complete initial out- fit for immediate prof- itable work, without charge. 2? All the supplies and equipment you need, at all times, without cost to you. 3 A series of illuminating booklets on just how to succeed and, each month, a sales maga- zine devoted to tested money-bringing plans, without charge. 4 Personal cooperation, by correspondence, of trained sales directors. No Investment No Experience Needed Earn cash profits from the first day in a permanent ever-expanding Like other subscription representatives of The S¢ urday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home Fournal and The Country you may make as much as $25.00 a Week EXTRA The Curtis Publishing Company 644 Independence Square Philadelphia, Pennsylvania } DUSINeSS, »f té ( 1 Niiewman , State

Page 208

THE An@ ~ Choose this WHITE white paint of 106 manufacturers When you decide you want a really white, house, select 40-40-20, the new outside paint made by all the manu- facturers listed on this page. 40-40-20 is really white, brilliantly white, and it stays White as long as good paint lasts. The large and constantly increas- ing number of important paint manu- facturers who have applied for licenses to make of its excellence. These paint manu- The New Jersey Zinc Company to use its regis- facturers are authorized by ered trade mark, 40-40-20, on paint made from its specified products according to its specially developed formula. it in ready- mixed form in many beautiful tints, as The New Jers They prepare 40-40-20 is indisputable proof well as in white, or in paste form for the professional painter’s use. 40-40-20 does everything that any high grade outside paint will do. It brushes out easily, covers well, has great hiding power, protects the sur- face, withstands the weather, and leaves an excellent surface for repainting when repaintin Yet good paint. g finally is necessary. it costs no more than any other The manufacturers whose names appear on this page have dealers all over the country who can supply you with genuine 40-40-20. Ask your paint dealer for it and send to us for the book- let “When White is White.”’ It tellsthe whole story of this remarkable paint. ey Zinc Company ¢ 160 Front Street, New York City SATURDAY EVENING POST THE GROWING IZED LIST OF MANUFACTURERS OF AUTHOR- 40-40-20 Allentown, Pa. Cleveland, O. New York City . Anaheim, Cal. INC. Newark, N. J. Wilmir agton, N. Cc. . Wheeling, W. Va. Los Angeles, Cal. THE ALLENTOWN MFG. CO THE W. A. ALPERS CO AMALGAMATED PAINT CO . ANAHEIM PAINT & PAPER CO THE ANGLO-AMERICAN VARNISH CO., ATLANTIC PAINT & VARNISH WKS., INC. BLUE RIBBON PAINT CO, : E.R. BOHAN & CO.,INC . BRADLEY & VROOMAN CO - Chicago, Ill. BREINIG BROS.,INC , ° . Hoboken, N. J. JOHN G, BUTLER COMPANY . . Savannah, Georgia CALIFORNIA PAINT CO . . Oakland, Cal. CAMPBELL & WISWELL,INC . . Boston, Mass. CARPENTER-MORTON CO, ° e ° . Boston, Mass, COLUMBIA VARNISH CO , Los Angeles, Cal, CONDIE-BRAY GLASS & PAINT co Kansas City, Mo. COOK PAINT AND VARNISH CO Kansas City, Mo, THE DEAN & BARRY CO ., ° ° ° Columbus, Ohio THE DEBEVOISECO . . Brooklyn, N. Y. DENNY, HILBORN & ROSE NBACH . Philadelphia, Pa. HENRY A. DEWEY CO., INC ° ‘ New York City THE DOLPHIN PAINT & VARNISH ‘co ° . Toledo, Ohio DUMONT PAINT MPG. CO., INC . Jamaica, N.Y. EGAN & HAUSMAN CO.,, INC . Long Island City, %. Y. FELTON-SIBLEY & CO., INC Philadelphia, Pa A. J. FIELD PAINT CO . Newark, N. J THE FLORMAN MANUFACTU RING co. Pueblo, Colorad« rHE FOY PAINT CO . . Cincinnati, O FRAZER PAINT CO . ; - : Detroit, Mich SAMUEL H. FRENCH & CO GARRETT M. GOLDBERG & CO HANLINE BROS . ° . HILDRETH VARNISH CO C. HORN CO HUGHES PAINT CO ° ° . IMPERIAL PAINT CO. Le IMPERVIOUS PAINT & V ARNIS H CO INTEGRITY PAINT CO INTERSTATE CHEMICAL CO JOHNSON McCKIM JOHNSON CO OLIVER JOHNSON & CO., INC , ‘ FRANK M. KENNEDY PAINT & COLOR CO KING PAINT MFG, COMPANY KNOX VARNISH CO ° J}. F. KURFEES PAINT CO SINC ° THE LANCASTER PAINT & GI ASS CO ° LONGMAN AND MARTINEZ . THE LORAIN LEAD & PAINT CO MACMILLAN PAINT CO THE MAHONING PAINT & OL co . THE MARIETTA PAINT & COLOR CO JOHN W. MASURY & SON . ° M. J. MERKIN PAINT CO,, INC MICHIGAN PAINT MFG, CO FHE NATROCO PAIN aoe & CO . IRFOLK PAINT & v ARNISH ‘CO Philadelphia, Pa -San Francisco, Cal Baltimore, Md Brooklyn, N. Y tie Island ¢ a. Y - Los Angeles, Cal ong Islan achy. N.Y. Philadeiphia, Pa New Haven, Cc Brooklyn, N. ¥ New York City stand Rapids, Mict rev ARNIS H WKS Tonawand a,N.¥ San Antonio, Texas Atlantic, Mass OAKLEY PAINT MFG. CO, ° . Los Angeles, Ca THE PARR PAINT AND COLOR CO Cleveland, ¢ PEASLEE-GAULBERT CO., ING Louisville, K THE PERRY & DERRICK CO.,INC , Cincinnati, O H. PETERMAN, ING ° ° Brooklyn, N. Y PETRO PAINT MFG, CO . ° Seattle, W ast PHELAN-FAUST PAINT MFG. CO , St. Louis, Me PHOENIX PAINT & VARNISH CO , Philadelphia, Pa P. & A. PAINT WORKS, ING ° + Rochester, N. Y RASMUSSEN & CO ° . Portland, Or REDS POT PAINT & VARNI: HCO., INC . Evansville, I FHE ROBERTSON PAINI & VARNIS HCO . Cleveland, ¢ ROCKCOAT PAINT CORPORATION Poledo, Ohi« SAMPSON PAINT & COLOR CO.,, INC Richmond, Va THE SARGENT-GERKE CO ° Indianapolis, I SCHULTE SPECIALTY COMPANY ° St. Louis, M EATTLE PAINT CO, ° ° seattle, Wast SOVEREIGN PAINT MFG.CO,,INC , Atlantic City, N. J PHE GILBERT SPRUANCE CO. . . Philadelphia, de r. PAUL WHITE LEAD & OIL CO., INC, St. Paul, Mi STANDARD CHEMICAL WORKS, INC rANDARD PIGMENT CO.,, INC STANDARD PLATE GLASS CO Pitts burgh, Pe STERLING PAINTCO . . ° Emeryville, Ca rHE STEWART BROS PAIN1 co . Alliance, O PFHONSON WOOD FINISHING COMP ANY Philadelphia, Le, riBBETTS-WESTERFIELD PAINT CO rHE TRIPOD PAINT COMPANY FROPICAL PAINT & OIL CO ° U.S. GUTTA PERCHA PAINT CO , UTLEY PAINT CO., INC ° ° WARREN PAINT & COLOR CO, CHARLES E. WATSON PAINT CO WEST PAINT & VARNISH CO , Everett, Mass. WESTERN PAINT AND VARNISH co ° Duluth, Minn PFHE WHITE COMPANY ° ° Baltimore, Md 1. C. WHITLAM MFG.CO ., . . W adsworth, O. WILLIAMS PAINT COMPANY . . - Milwaukee, Wis. JOHN H. WITTE & SONS ° . Burlington, la D. ZELINSKY & SONS, INC. San Francisco, Cal Reading Pal Schuylerville Los Angeles, Cal Atlanta, Ga. Cleveland, O Providence, R l. New Orleans, La. ° Nashville, Tenn. Wichita Falls, Tex IN CANADA: BRANDRAM-HENDERSON, LTD. . Montreal FHE IMPERIAL VARNISH AND COLOR CO., LTD Toront INTERNATIONAL LABORATORIES, LTD. ° Winnipeg OTTAWA PAINT WORKS, LTD . ° Ottawa A. RAMSAY & SON CO Montreal SANDERSON PEARCY & CO.,LTD . ‘West Toronto, Ont. lew Jersey ZINC November 6, 1926

Page 209

Continued from Page 205 left about half the twenty points margin the firm wanted kept good on Allied Elec- tric. ‘You'll have to let us have about four- teen thousand to put you in good shape,” I told him. “It’s not convenient,’ he says. ‘‘I’l! let things remain as they are.”’ “It can’t be done,” I said. ‘* How about putting up some securities things like that?” “‘T have plenty of those,’’ he told me, but I could see he was sore. ‘If you really in- sist, I will have my bank send them down.” “Do it by wire,” I said; ‘“‘and tell the bank to telegraph the firm that the stuff is on the way.” That made him hot. Not only he didn’t like me pressing him, but he said I was sus- picious he wouldn’t come through with the bonds like he said. More than that, he was insulted because we didn’t trust to his for- mula dope. “Listen, Mr. Grigsby,” I says, “if I was you I'd dump that Allied Electric tomorrow morning, or most of it anyhow. Then you won't need to give us your bonds for more margin, and you'll be in out of the wet fora while. If you hold on, Allied could easy break another twenty-five points, and then you might bein bad. Why not sell it out?” ‘I will do nothing of the kind,” says Grigsby. ‘“‘I have complete confidence in my formula.’”’ And then he walks. Later on I found out from Margie that he had give her a telegram to send to the bank in Shoalsville, telling them to send down all the bonds they were keeping for him. ‘Princess,’’ I said, “‘this ain’t so good at all. My one and only customer is losing his shirt, and that means I am going to lose him.” “Tell me exactly what you mean,” orders Margie, seeming kind of interested; and I explained it to her as good as I could to a woman. ‘“*He’s still ten thousand or more on vel- vet,”” I says, “‘but if the Allied Electric keeps up the cracking process tomorrow, it’s likely to wipe that out and take a nick out of his gold piece besides. He’s so cuckoo over that rifle-bullet idea of his that he’s liable to hold on till they get him good. bonds, or I'm afraid the artificial egg farm is gone now, and some of the lumberyard might go i 0 Why can’t you talk so as I can under- stand you?” says Margie, and I noticed her rice was a little excited. “‘Is that Elect stock going down very much more?” “Its brakes didn’t work today,” ‘‘and it’s always a bad actor when it gets a chance - “Then the sensible thing for Mr. to do would be to sell what he bought Grigsby says Margie “You guess d the only answer there is,”’ I told her. ‘‘He probably might get out to- morrow morning and still have more coin he brought here. Besides, I would then get more business out of him after- t ‘Oh, would you?” says Margie, and she give me a kind of nasty look. ‘Would you really?” You can be sure I about Grigsby’s account that night, and | felt a ot better in the morning when I found out the office got a wire from the Shozlsville ink telling they had shipped us a big list f Grigsby’s bonds. When Grigsby come in worried he give me a good imitation of an iceberg, when I asked him had he made up his d to do anything, he just said, “1 will enter an order when I am ready.” Old Man Cook was buzzing around as isual, and he started in on Grigsby early. Well, what is the formula for this morn- ng?’ he says, rubbing his hands together. What is the scientific way to get stung 1 " But Grigsby didn’t pay any attention, ‘ 1 or ly set down at the ticker to wate! the opening. Margie Deever come into the order room for a minute about that time, and give me a queer grit “Was you out to a movie last night?” I asked her. “Yes,”’ she said with a kind of funny laugh, ‘and the picture ended wonderful.” And she didn’t say any more. Allied Electric opened at all kind of prices from 110 down to 107, and for the next five minutes kept wabbling between the two. Grigsby was at the tape watching it, and I was watching Grigsby. All at once he jumped up and headed for my win- dow, looking very sour. But instead of coming up and telling me what he wanted to do, he stops at the shelf where we keep the order pads, and writes out his order himself. Then he shoves it through to me and scoots back to the ticker. When I looked at the order I needed a shot of heart medicine. It was to buy fifteen hundred shares of Allied Electric at the market. What I expected, of course, was an order to sell out the fifteen hundred shares he al- ready had, and for a minute I was going to run out and ask him wasn’t it a mistake. Buying fifteen hundred more would give him three thousand in all, and that was a lot. But then I thought about how he was giving us a big bunch of bonds for more margin, and I remembered how sore he looked, and I just put the order over the phone to the floor. Well, we paid different prices, from 1081!5 to 110, for the fifteen hundred shares, and I went out to give Grigsby the reports. He just nodded his head when I whispered the figures to him, and stuck the report slip in his pocket, A minute or two afterward he got up and went out without looking at me or anybody. By that time the whole mar- ket was a little better, and Allied Electric was selling at 112. As soon as I could I went out to see Margie. ““Gus, the boy plunger, ain’t lost his nerve,” I told her. “‘ Did you know he was going to double up on that Allied?” “What does that mean?” says Margie very quick; and I told her how Grigsby had bought more stock and now he had three thousand shares. “But he couldn’t of done it,” jumping up. ‘He promised he would sell what he had. Where is he?” I said he had beat it out of the office, and might be going to another movie. she Says, “It must be a mistake,’ says Margie, looking a little wild. ‘He couldn't of been so deceitful.” Then | begun to wonder. “I got it in writing,” I told her, ‘“‘and so has he, so there ain’t any mistake at all. What is it to you anyhow 4g ‘Nothing or maybe everything,” she says. ‘I won't know till I see him.” That Allied Electric was up to 114 by the time I went out to lunch. Then some kind of announcement come out on the news tickers and it was about 117 when I got It hit 119 again a little before the market closed. He didn’t look at the prices on the quotation board or nothing, but come up to me and said he wanted Reilly & Wilson to send his bonds back to the bank in Shoalsville right back. » Just as Grigsby come in away, and also a check for whatever money was coming to him. “How can we do that until you even up your account?” I asked him “It is evened up, as you call it,” and then | got excited. “Did you think we sold out fifteen hun- dred A and the way I grabbed his arm must of hurt “Certainly,” hesaidtome. “Linstructed you to sell it.” he says, ied for you this morning?” I says, “Wait!” I and I in back and fisned out the o ne w te i hat says buy, don’t it? s, and stuck it up ir front of his goggies Can you see what the lu simp had done? He had picked up the wrong orde pad that morning, and had wrote |} re on a black buy slip instead of a red sell one. He just blinked for a mi he says, ‘“‘ Through pure carelessness I have made a serious mistake.” ‘Serious!’ I said. “You make about twenty-five thousand by it. Allied is up n to above 119,’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST He seemed t have t think that over but finally he says, ‘That may soften the offense, but I don’t know what Miss Deever will think.” = Margie Deever!"’ I says. ‘“* Where does she come in?” **T promised her I would sell this morn- ing and never operate in the stock market id me, and you would of thought he was going to cry. “We became engaged to be married last night again as long as I live,”’ he t« after I gave her my solemn promis« Well, when I finally got my breath back, I says to him, ‘You stay out here, Mr Grigsby, and let me ease the bad news to her. Maybe I can do it without breaking her heart.”” So I went back to where Margie was pounding out letters. I could see from the w ay she was working that she knew about Allied being up and wasn’t worrying any more over what Grigsby had done. “*Congratulations,”’ I handed her. ‘‘ What are you going to wear going away?” “So he has come back,” says Margie. **Where is he?” “He was detained trying to hire Astor’s yacht for the honeymoon,” I told her. “ He can do it easy with that money he picked up today.” “‘He broke his promise to me,” she shot at me. “Who wouldn’t for twenty-five grand I says. “ Besides, it was only a boy's mis- take, made by him being absent-minded when thinking of you.”” And I give her full details. “You can’t tell anyhow,” I says. “All he done was pick up a black order slip instead of ared one. How do you know he ain’t color blind?” “Let’s eliminate the comedy,” says Margie. ‘‘ How does he really stand now?” So I figured it out for her how, if he could sell out all the Allied Electric for as good as 119, he would be about nine thousand ahead on the play. That would give him some- thing like forty-two thousand cash in his account, including the five he put up in the beginning. “We'll run that up to fifty thousand for him and then he'll be satisfied,”’ I says to Margie, thinking I might possibly get away with it “We'll run it down to nothing,” says Margie, “by sell at sunrise and putting all the money in the > ng out the Electric stock bank *‘What’s all the hurry?” I wanted to know. ‘“*He might invent some new kind of mis- “T got a future to think about now, and I’m taking no chances. Look at what happened last night. I not only got him to promise, but I broke up his formula, and yet that didn’t keep him from take, she says trying suicide again today “*How could you break up his formula?” I asked her “Oh, that was easy,” says Margie. ‘'] stole the works.” ‘What works?” I said act was just to figure things out by algebra and like that.” “That was most of it,”’ Margie said, “and it took him a long time to do that part. But after he got down to a lot of funny z's and ‘I thought his ’s and other things, he had to find out which of them to go by. The way he found that out was using these.”’ And she digs down in her bag and brings up a nice sweet pair of dice I looked at them and at her, but I didn't get it. ‘*How do you mean?” I asked her ‘He rolled them,” she says. “He rolled them to get the final results “The final results of what?”’ I said “Of the formula,” says Margie ihats what we're talking about I ist set there and Ked at he lor a while. Then I said, ‘* You win, Margie. G on and take hin iwa ror here i Or give me the bones Why she sa ‘What do want to do with then l only want to do one thing with then I told he I or want to show the ma- Save money on your olored C Pencils HY haveso many large corporations stand- ardized on Blaisdell Paper Pencils? ‘“‘Because their colored leads are matchless,’’ you say. Right! But also because they are money savers. Just consider their economy: Instant sharpening—right at the desk—saves employee's time New pormts exposed, not excised, saves all of the crayon. Firmer, further-going crayon, saves pencils. YOUR stationer can supply Blaisdells in both regular and thin leads in all desirable col ors. A metal device that peels them with a single motion is now packed in each dozen Blaisdell THE PIONEER PAPER PENCIL Send for booklet and two pencils BLAISDELL PENCII im 3 lelphia, Pa Please send me two B regular and | k kt I s for Colored P I 10; tpacking | ‘ 1 DP t ro Name..... | ne | | cin | “Best Tire Idea I Ever Saw” — say Tire Repairmen. t ‘ Wedford-Kex Vulcanized Rubber Puncture Plugs k The Wedler-Shuford Co., Se. Louis, U.S.A. Bookkeeper Earned 53900 22 bit 4 ] ’ ice td Hours ~ Selling Xmas Cards {. J. Knopke,W $62 M Kendrick, 1 $61.50 in 1 r K ned $1200 showing , Personal Christmas Greeting Cards : . ns ; x} es cme ene : tu “ - Weekly pay checks. Bonus checks every month No money required. We furnish everything $10 Outfit Free aking bie | | F THE JOHN A. HERTEL CO. | 318 W. Washington St., Dept. 1707, Chicago, Ill. ee } J MEN WANTED ec%inc Si oaesorde Fh NAWCO NECKWEAR CO. Desk 11-D Coviagtes Keatecky PECANS | Ree pack er k jue gift. Orde re eur - ¥ ren MKS. O. B. PRUETI CLAYTON, ALABAMA

Page 210

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 ” — If a friendly service is worth recognizing ~ recognize it fittingly THE WHAT, WHEN AND HOW What shall be the type of gift from a bridegroom to OF REMEMBRANCES...DON’T his best man . . . tohis ushers . . . what gift _ . form will best express to an intimate friend regret GUESS—ASK YOUR JEWELER over an acne parting? These are but a few ae laa - of the myriad delicate gift-questions. Any of the services rendered Us are labors of love and friendship. When you have a gift problem—don’t guess—go to an expert for authoritative counsel. See your Jeweler. He is a past- master in the science of appropriate gift- selection. And his consultations are free. They are above and beyond any sugges- tion of monetary reward . . . and too richly laden with sentiment to permit of any remembrance of fleeting worth. : Send the coupon for the Tiny Treasure Book, a pocket brochure that treats of the What, When and How of remembrances. Each such service should be recognized with a gift that lasts—a gift as enduring as. the sentiment it betokens. But how to express a gift impulse so as neither to overstep the bounds of good 4) pion warch should be a part of ia | | taste nor understate gratitude . . . that — th “Weestate’* of every man and is the delicate problem of gift-giving. qutietn .. 6 Sige Sete THE WATCH WORD FOR ELEGANCE AND EFFICIENCY NAME = ADDRESS ns. Sent free Elgin National Watch C mft Ou esti t > - PRU Se Veciea 39 | — =

Page 211

swers Turner, “and calls up your friend's »om. In a little while a lad comes down id tells me he’s McMe’s secretary and at McMe never sees anybody until after indown on Thur ‘ iny good, so I di n ‘““What did he have to say?’ re iges ys. Lalking doesn ig ‘Nothing much,” returns Sid. ljumb on where he came from and ike that, but it’s a cinch he’s going to play third for the Sox. It didn’t take more than one degree to get him to admit that.” “Ask him about Thursday?”’ “Yes,’’ nods Turner; “but he just says *s a personal matter. He dropped a cou- ple of remarks, though, that makes me think there’s a girl mixed up in the gag somewhere. My idea is that McMe’s a col- ege man with a lot of dough who made a rash crack about heing better than any eague player in the business and the frill called his bluff. Thursday’s probably the Anyway, that’s the way I goes on. day he sees her. my story reads.” “Oh,” says I, ‘‘then you did send a yarn ibout Wiji.” “Sure,” snaps Sid. ‘“‘Things have beer 0 dull around here that I’m willing to fall rr anything—even a plant. It’s a good tory-—-mysterious rich man who's got to get a place on the team to marry the girl The Subway Sadies and the ck-hairs’ll eat it up.” “Even if it isn’t the truth?” I asks. ‘What’s the truth got to do with true tories?’’ comes back Turner. An hour later I runs into Wiji in the lressing room at the ball yard. h pping-room } I’m passing a few words with the kid when Simonds, owling all over, bustles up to us. Bill never was my favorite brand of sardines. ““You the busher,”’ he barks, “‘that won’t play anything but third for the Blue Sox?”’ “Why, yes,’ smiles McMe. ‘What plans are you making?” “*Plans?”’ gurgles Simonds. “T should imagine,”’ goes on Wiji, “you could get a minor-league team to manage. Grogan might trade you, but you're getting kind of old and slow ‘3 ‘Slow!’ bellows the infielder. ‘“‘ Know how many bases I stole last year?” “Oh, yes,”” says MeMe; “but do you know how many battles Napoleon won in 12199" 1S1id. “What do I care?”’ growls Bill. “The next year,’’ continues Wiji, traded him to Elba in the Mediterranean League.’ **Never heard of it,”’ snaps Simonds. I imagine,’’ says McMe, easy and soft, “that was just a trifle before your time or was it?” Nut or not, I’m for the kid, and so’s the rest of the gang in the clubhouse; Bill being about as popular with his playmates as a they kleagle in a kosher kitchen. For ten years he’s silk-hatted and uptowned everybody around the ball yard, and now, the first time in his career, he’s run up against a lad that sends ‘em back faster than he gets ‘em. No wonder the boys are grinning and nodding encouragement to Wiji. “The bushes and benches,” monds, “‘are full of fresheimers like you who thought they could push me off third. I'll be there long after you’re dry behind the sneers ears ‘“*At your age ” begins McMe. ‘Cut out that age stuff!’’ snarls Bill, and makes a pass at Wiji. The youngster di without trouble and sits down with a ucks ‘Be your age,”’ he chides, “‘and remem- ber your blood pressure.” Simonds roars with rage and plunges at MecMe, but along about that time some of he gang steps in between the two, and that ends what the movie folks would call the ubhouse sequence, sill’s still upset when he goes out to practice, and he makes a merry mess of the rst few bounders shot in his direction. Continued from Page 31 Wiji, watching from the sidelines, just shakes his head pityingly at each foozle as f sorrowing over the breakdown of a grand qd norse Simonds doesn’t miss any of it neither does Grogar Chase yourself out there,” growls Bull, ‘and show me some of your col! McMe starts off with a flash. Sticking out his manicured meat hand, he pulls a wild one out of the dust and with the same movement zips it over to first “‘Not bad, that,”’ I remarks “It takes more than one swallow to dry p a spring,” grunts Grogan. ‘He looks ircusy to me,” he adds, with a frown, as Wiji leaps into the air and gloves a hot drive. u For the next hour or so I keeps a tight eye on the kid, and I notices he does everything the hard way, like the bird in the crap game trying to make a ten point with an ace and anine. Bounces that could have been taken care of easily wit! both hands are turned into difficult three ring tries through one-hand stabs, most of Instead of waiting for the ball to come to him, with lots of time to make the out, McMe rushes forward to smother the hit while it’s still hot from the bat. When he makes a muff he does it so graceful it looks like an achieve- which, however, are successful ment While this kind of trick stuff doesn't go so good with the managers and the averages, it’s white meat with the fans, and the local optioneers, watching the practice between real-estate deals, give the boy a handsome hand. Safe-and-sane players deliver in the box score, but it’s the chance takers who pull ‘em out of their seats and make ‘em break their straw hats. A spectacular baby, ling to complete a daring steal, gets bales of applause, while the conservative Luke, who gets away with it, finds the patrons of the game sitting on their hands. At the end of a week Grogan and I havea talk about Wilji. “He shapes up nicely,’ admits Bull, ‘but as for crowding Simonds off the bag that’s a joke. There’s nothing sure about him.” “Yes, sir,”’ says I, ‘he’s your maybe.” ‘I'd try him out at short,” goes on Gro- gan, ‘“‘but he refuses.”’ “‘How about shifting Bill to short?” I suggests. ‘That's out,”’ snaps the manager. ‘‘ He's been at third so long he’d think he was be- ing shipped to Siam if he was moved fifty feet from the foul line. Besides, he wouldn't stand for being ousted by the kid. They don’t love each other so much.” ‘Like rheumatism loves red meat,” I “but it’d be a shame to keep the boy under cover. The fans seem to be wild about him.” The day before we'd had a game with the Lizards, whose camp was close to ours, and the bleachers had kept yelling for a peek at Wiji all afternoon, but Bull wouldn't oblige. “Oh,” scoffs Grogan, “‘that was on ac- count of the hogwash in the papers about him being a millionaire in disgust and the society girl who wouldn’t yes him unless he got a place on the team. The mob wasn’t shouting for a ball player; it was whooping it up for a side show. McMe'’s talking too much in the papers anyways,” he finishes grouchily. How do you mean?” ‘I read a piece this morning,” returns Bull, ‘“‘that kind of intimates that I’m not oo simues, I asks \ We Ate Os “et \ { Wi BES THE SATURDAY EVENING YES, SIR; HE’S MY MAYBE POST y z é i a square é il that I’n too much of an old fogy to e the ung ste a ance How does get tha Wa (a 1 Oo la i i m For a spell G wa ts moo ence then with a su t rY beckons Wiji to him “We're piaving the Tarantu Thursday,” says Bu i I'm going to et you work the whole game a ‘That,’ returns McMe coldly, st al of your sense f fairness. You're willing to give me a chance on the only day I'll not play.” day?” flares up Grogar “That,” comes back W s the grocer} store on the main street of Red Rapids, lowa-—not your business. Your business is to send ball players out in the field that’l please the fans. If you want to be fair ‘“‘Fair!’’ splutters the manager. ‘‘I sup- pose you'd think it'd be fair to oust a steady seasoned infielder to make room for a young n-and-outer who picks the days he'll play It'll be years before you're anywhere near Simonds’ class.” ‘If you want to be fair,” MeMe, ‘you'll try us both out in the same game and under the same conditions. T} Jaguars come here Wednesday Let Si monds play five innings and then put me in for four.”’ ‘All right,”’” mumbles Bull. “I got a hunch,” he says mournfully to me, afte Wiji leaves, “that kid was sent here to make trouble for me.” “Trouble?”’ I puzzles. “How?” **Well,”’ admits Grogan, “I’ve been kir of uneasy since young Tabor got hold of the team. I guess some of his boy friends have slipped him the idea that I've got too many vets in the line-up and he’s sent McMe down here for a kind of a test. If Wiji doesn’t get a berth, the boss'll prob- ably tallow the skids for me on the grounds that a swell youngster can't get a chance with the Sox even if he works for nothing.”’ “For nothing?” I questions. ““Yes,”” says Grogan. ‘Yesterday I of- fered to put McMe on the pay roll for two hundred a month. He told me he didn’t want any pay—to keep the money and give it to Simonds for a farewell present at the end of the season. WJ's just a ringer that Tabor has dug up to make a sucker out of me.” “How,” I wants to know, “does that explain the Thursday lay-off, the Palm Towers and the rest of the racket?” “T don’t get that,”’ mutters Bull; ‘‘but it’s some part of Tabor’s scheme to show me up. for a show-down right now “If I were you,” says I, ‘i’ \ e 1 let the fans and the box continues He’s away on his yacht, or I'd call boy a chance ar score make the show-down for you. No matter what's in the air, Wiji’s work so far entitles him to a try at third. There might be something in that ringer stuff,’ I adds ““McMe won't talk about himself and no- body’s been able to get a picture of him.” “T’ll send him in Wednesday,” Grogan, “‘but Simonds’! get all riled up.” “What of it?’ I snaps. ‘“‘He wasn’t elected for life.” promises i HERE’S been so much hooey and hur- rah about the mysterious McMe in the local sheets and in the papers that have come down from the big town that some five thousand folks crowd into the park at Optionville on Wednesday for a possible peek at him. In the stands I notices flocks of women, vacationeers from the Palm Towers and other Ritzy roosts in the neigh- borhood, judging from their rocks and rags. ‘Imagine all these frills are here to see WJ?” asks Grogan “‘No,”’ says I with irony. “They're here to listen to Bill Simonds’ arteries harder EAT { 400 COVERS 25 illustrated If your car is a 1925, 192% of 1927 modei of one of the 15 leading makes the price for a two passenger is $9.00 s three, four or five passenger two-door mode! $14.00—a four door model $16.00 Ford and Chevrolet $3.00 less than above All seven passenger cars $22.50 For other makes and earlier vears add $3.00 to above prices Department Stores and Car Dealers—Writ« BI LIMO RE “BUILT BETTER" DOOR and SEAT COVERS Send no money—Check full information tSTUK-TIiTe VELVET PENCILS le A Soit and Very Black Easy Writer - Vor Sale Goerywhere Write for Sample AMERICAN LEAD PENCIL CO., 218 Fifth Ave., N.Y. Mobers of the famous VENUS Pencils Want Work At Good Pay e profitable, spare * \ i time work; rig near your own hore Write for detarls to Box 1624, ¢/o The Saturday Evening Post 646 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Penna >) Draft Opener FURNACE. Brings &r iw “Tork Draft Opener” booklet free TORK COMPANY, 12 East 41 St., New York AcCcCOUNTANT aSalle Extension University, Dept H ar The World's Largest Business Training Institution

Page 212

210

“Blame Yourself if your Feet Ache |”

Pel ¢ 4 . x

a re

I’S your own fault if you are limping around on feet that ache and cramp and burn! You are not compelled to wear ordi- nary shoes and abuse your feet!

that’s what makes feet ache! ou can stop this abuse by wearing THE {RCH PRESE j RCH PRESERVER s ™ SHOE because this shoe keeps your feet healthy, vigor- ous and comfortable, no matter how much you walk or stand. Just abuse }

The concealed, built-in arch bridge immediately YS A stops the sagging of your foot arch, thereby eliminating the source of your worst pain. The le (crosswise) prevents pinching and

flat inner sole cramping of the bones, nerves and blood-vessels which puts an end to the burning and cramping in the forepart ol the feet.

“KEEPS THE FOOT WELL ( " > q . a mi - 7 : ommon sense ju tifies this correct shoe. It pro atest Rett vides a natural walking base, an adequate foun for men and boys is made only dation to enable the foot to hold up the weight ot by E. T. Wright & Company, the body. That's why the Arch Preserver Shoe Inc., Rockland, ~<a se Me ’ 1 ttt men and children by 1¢ Selby keeps feet well and useful! Shoe Co., Portsmouth, Ohio When you wear the Arch Preserver Shoe you have health, comfort and vigor for your feet —and you also have smart style. This shoe combines good appearance with good feeling. Sold by Leading Dealers E. T. WRIGHT & CO., INC. S-52, Rockland, Mass. Fine Shoes since 1876 Dept f Men's

The Princeton No. 310. One of forty stock styles

! t | eal | i | am * \ ! I ‘ send it Our Foot \ . E. T. Wright & Co., Name che \ Inc., Dept. S-52, yee cal Rockland, Mass. ; i ast Send me the “Foot Address get you a her. °° uain i \ J Aches ith your ana and name of nearest THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | | amidst the dying agonies of Grogan

An “Oh!” of disappointment quivers through the seats when the old-timer takes his place at third. Standing on the coach- ing line, I can see Bill’s fidgety and worried looking. Bull’s told him that Wiji’d play part of the game—the first show of com- petition that Simonds has had in twelve years, and it tells on him. In the first inning he gets only one chance, an easy pick-up and throw to first that could have been pulled off by a Girl Scout with a broken arm. At that, the heave’s wide enough to drag all the baseman off the bag excepting the extreme end of his left toe. Bill gets by well enough in the next three sessions, but in the fifth the breaks go bad for him. Like I told you before, Simonds is not my favorite flute player, but just the same I’m sorry for him. With the bags filled and two out, the Jaguar batter zings one toward third. Bill rushes in, grabs the ball and shoots it home, the proper step under the circumstances. Unfortunately our catcher is less than twelve feet tall, even when he’s on his toes and reaching. The high-and-wild pill sails over his head, tangents crazily off the con- crete backstop and, by the time it’s corraled, all three runners are in. It looks as if the fans were waiting and hoping for some ex- cuse like this to express themselves. “Take him out! Take him out! Put in Wiji! We want Wiji! We want Wiji!” It seems like everybody in the park is in on the anvil chorus for Simonds and the drone for McMe. The women particularly are shrilling for Wiji. “Tsn’t it hell?’’ groans Grogan. “Don’t worry,” says I, soothing. ‘ We’ll get those runs back.” ““T wasn’t thinking of that,’’ comes back Bull. “I promised to put McMe in the next inning, and now they’ll think I’m taking Bill out on account of that rotten throw. I've got half a mind ” “Forget it,’’ I cuts in, curt. “I’m sorry, too, that Simonds is being let down this way, but you’ve made a promise and you've got to keep it.” At the end of the inning Grogan goes over and talks to the old boy with his arms around his shoulder. I don’t know what’s said, but the team’s no sooner off the field than Bill departs for the showers, passing up his turn at the plate. Wiji bats third in his place, getting a tremendous send-off from the cash customers and their ladies when he ambles to the plate. The first pitch is a beaut, splitting the pan in two, but McMe lets it go by. “Ball!’”’ yelps the ump. “What!”’ howls the Jaguar catcher, throwing his mask to the ground and jump- ing up and down in a rage. “You're right,”’ I hears Wiji say. “It was a perfect strike. What’s the matter?” he bawls to the umpire. ‘‘Did you leave your eyes in your other suit?” The idea of a ball wrangler kicking against a decision in his favor is too much for the local O’Day. There’s no comeback in his repertoire for such a situation. He just looks kind of dazed. *“What’s up?” demands Bull, climbing out of the dugout. I explains. “Just a pecan,” snarls Grogan, and walks away in disgust. The pitch stays a ball and the game’s re- sumed. McMe catches the next throw a bad one—on the handle of the bat and pops a fly barely out of the pitcher’s reach. Wiji beats the toss to the bag by a couple of feet, and despite the frantic shouts of Bull on the coaching line, keeps on going. The first baseman’s no more prepared for this than he is for the crown of Denmark. Without aiming, he snaps an excited ball to second and the kid slides safely into the bag. When he gets up and finds the pill is still being fumbled with he dashes for third and he comes darn near making it. If Wiji had hit a home run in the deciding game of the World’s Series, with three on and two out in the ninth inning, and four runs needed to win, he couldn’t have been done better with by the Optionville fans. November 6, 1926 “What are those cuckoos yelling for?” snorts Bull. ‘A filbert who tries to stretch a shoe string into a mile of cable?” “They’re not yelling for a ball player,” I grins. ‘“‘They’re cheering 4 handsome and mysterious young millionaire who’s bat tling in the lists of sport for his lady fair.” “Gosh!” wails Bull. ‘‘The game’s sur gone to the dogs when o “No,” I interrupts, ‘‘not to the dogs to the picture sheets. Did you see that piece this morning in the Daily Blaze about our little boy friend?” That’s the rag that Turner works for and he’s kept the cracks between pictures filled with MeMe stuff, most of it about as true as an Arabian Nights yarn rewritten by Ananias with notes by Captain Mun- chausen and maps by Doctor Cook. As Sid says, truth may be stranger than fic- tion, but who wants astranger at breakfast? Wiji finishes the rest of the game with the Jaguars in his regular circus style, making every stop and throw look 100 per cent harder than they actually are, his stunt being to turn the possible into the impossible and then, by a miracle, to turn it back into the possible. Everything he does, though, gets the crowd; and even when he forces in the winning run in the ninth by being hit by a pitched ball the fans whoop it up for a stroke of genius. The following Monday we breaks camp and starts North, with a schedule of prac- tice mix-ups on the road home. The first stop’s Jacksonville, where we have a fuss with the Leopards. Again we draw an enormous mob and again it’s cold and hand- cuffed until McMe is injected into the line-up. Everything the kid does is jake in Jacksonville; the boy grabbing off ap- plause for stuff that would have and should have sent the average ball player back to the borax mines. “Bull,” says I at the hotel that evening, ‘you'll just have to put in Wiji regular.” “Heisn’t in Bill’s class,’”’ blusters Grogan. ““T know it,”’ I agrees; ‘‘and from the standpoint of players and experts, he'll never come near being the workman that Simonds is. However, you don’t fill the bleachers with players and experts. Base- ball’s a show business and you've got to cater to the gate. Wiji’s a big draw : “Until they get wise to him and the newspaper talk dies out,’’ cuts in Bull. “After that he’ll just be a joke.” “‘Perhaps,”’ says I; ‘‘but in the mean- time why not cash in? Shoo Bill over to short or second—we need his hitting —and put McMe on third. After he fades out, let Simonds go back to his old place.”’ Bull’s stubborn, though, and nothing hap- pens until we get to Savannah. On a Thursday we play the Coyotes, and there aren't enough people in the stands to crowd a phone booth. There are more folks around the hotel waiting for a peek at Wiji than there are in the ball yard. “Well!” says I to Bull, pointing to the bleachers. “All right,”’ returns Grogan. “I’m put- ting McMe at third. I’ve had a talk with Bill and he’s willing to take a try at short for a while.” After sundown I goes up to Wiji’s room. “You win,” I tells him. ‘You're the regular third baseman now.” “Ts that official?’’ he asks eagerly. “Yep,” says I. “Simonds is going to short. Bull’s told all the newspaper men. Tomorrow you start the game at third and finish it.” “Tomorrow,” smiles halfway to New York. night.” “T don’t get you,”’ I mumbles. “When a salesman,”’ says Wilji, ‘“‘sells a bill of goods, he should leave the scene of the sale as quickly as possible. If you linger around, there’s always the danger of unselling yourself.” “You mean you're not going to play with the Sox any more?” I demands. “No, nor with any other team,” returns the youngster. “I’m no ball player. monds has forgotten more about the game Continued on Page 213 MeMe, *T’ll be I’m leaving to- Si-

Page 213

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST : "lis ‘id fa, | sannennveanenenann panenscennusnanensvoesrseneenenasier pening : _ ve ‘Make paint and varnish an aid to production and morale ~in office and factory... .

You will not be

PVT “iS ~

~ Ne 2 % asntengnenneceeesepeueseunssucuveuseuseuecuuceueeunnny # <

710 © Save the Surface Cam gn, 1 RODUCTION depends on three things—men, machines, and | with production, so far do paint and varnish affect production. management. Management controls the conditions under | The systematic use of paint and varnish in office, store, mill and which men work. It knows that morale is inseparable from eff- | factory is already a national practice. Employers not less than ciency. It has learned that in sofaras save THE SURFACE CAMPAIGN, 18 East 4lst Street, New York. PToperty owners recognize the gains cheerful surroundings, better light, A co-operative movement by Paint, Varnish and Allied Interests whose products that come from following the precept and services conserve, protect and beautify practically every kind of property cleanliness and sanitation have to do «+ “Save the surface and you save all.’

Page 214

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 the $1,500,000 for dredging tT $1,800,000 for new roads and sidewalks— Tzvo of the largest contracts ever let in Florida now under way at (oral Gables Granada Entrance and Boulevard. Coral Gables began with a 15-year program of development and improvement. Now, at the end of § years, it has passed the mark set for that period. It is estimated that more than $125,000, has been expended in buildings, entrances, plazas, roads, public buildings and util ties in Coral Gable URING the past five years, no matter what hap- pened, Coral Gables kept on working. When all Florida seemed to be in the grip of speculators, road gangs laid the broad highways that knit this city to Miami. During all the ups and downs of business, dredges clattered, steam shovels roared, and dump trucks thun dered along the palm-fringed roads. Coral Gables is working now. Although there were 86 miles of streets and go miles of sidewalks in Coral Gables a few months ago, a new contract for $1,800,000 was let , on August 18th to W. T. Price, Incorporated, for 51 addi - o ‘ a ° H tional miles of streets and 181 miles of sidewalks, to be aie “3 - : : . . . Ths s/] he the ‘ e of > ) This building, valued at $600,000, will soon completed within 2 days. On September 10, 1926, i ill be the reside nce Of ¥. 1. Ryan. All 1 be occupied by modern department stor } ° ‘ . : : - Coral Gables homes and buildings are of con ~ Bag a © eeen epee — another important contract involving an expenditure of sae cde toa cased sill anaes he archite f all business buildings, as . » : é OPE OF COVEY TUER, ONE Gis MNS! \ aa upervised by a governing about $1,500,000 for approximately 2,458,950 cubic yards : slate re = building permit i : & . ws . Yast ToT oe ‘ . Sue: Wil Plans @ specifications are af board of notable architects, which also en- of dredging was awarded to the T. T. Sweet Dredging Co., SSSNED UNI INGBS GRE IP MS ave aj forces strict xonine and building revulations . _ proved by the Architectural Board of ¢ : ee RO ee Se aS ee Inc., who began work immediately. Gables. The American Building Corporation, a group of Cin cinnati financiers, has undertaken a home-building pro Three dredec ized in digging canal The work of developing and improving Coral gram, calling for the construction of homes having a sales yacht and di ins and improving the j Gables goes forward constantly. Janting ° , T : , | ral Gables wil | fi rd constantiy. Planting value of many millions of dollars. The first year’s quota Sovmedie and landscaping follow the construction : 7 ai 5 g such beautiful ork closely. Tropical flowers and shrub of 1 homes is now almost completed. There are 49 aterways, in addition to 1§ miles from Key tll soon give this road a luxuriant and other building contractors now at work and 140 sub g the Atlant beautijul setting. Biscayne contractors. Such construction proves that Coral Gables 1s not a paper city. It contains every modern improvement and public service. It is spacious, colorful and healthful. Above all, it is beautiful. It is ready for you—to care for you, to entertain you, to give you and your family the best the American tropics has to offer. Will you let us te you more about it? Dept. S-2 of the Chamber of Commerce of the City of Coral Gables, Florida, will be glad to supply you with any information you desire. Miami, Florida

Page 215

Le (Continued from Page 210 than I’ll ever know. I've merely sold Grogan and the public a contrast.” “You're talking,” not saying anything.” “Let mother tuck you into a highball,” rrins Wiji, reaching for a nonrefillable, ‘and then she'll tell you all about it.”’ ‘Shoot the bedtime tale,” I urges, after the hospitalities. ‘Last January,” retails McMe, “I fin- ished a course in salesmanship at college. I had a vacation coming, so I figured I'd use it to make a test—to see if I really had the stuff that a high-pressure peddler needs. The only thing I had about me that was salable was my skill at baseball. It wasn’t much, but I’d managed to make the college nine three years. I studied the field a bit and decided that I'd sell myself down the ver to the Blue Sox for a third baseman.” “Why us?” I asks. “ And why Simonds’ spot?” “T’d read some stuff in the papers,’”’ ex- plains Wiji, ‘‘that showed that the writers and the fans were getting kind of weary of seeing the same old faces in the Sox line-up, and the same old machinelike, conserva- tive baseball. The dingier the home, the more chance you have of selling a flashy chromo—and I was going to be flashy.”’ “And how!” I mutters. “As for Simonds,” goes on McMe, “he was supposed to have his job cinched tighter than anybody in the league, and I wanted to make my test as pe hard as possible,”’ I finishes. “‘As easy as possible,”’ contradicts Wiji. It’s easier to tumble a man who’s sitting on top of the ladder without a worry than one who is hanging on, tight and frightened, to the bottom rung.” “The statics,’”’ I frowns, the reception.” “It'll all clear up in a little while,” smiles the kid. ‘Having picked my pros- pect,” continues McMe, “I arranged to meet George Tabor through a fraternity brother of his—Al Mason. Al, by the way, is my secretary. He came along for the fun,”’ adds Wiji, with a laugh. ‘So Tabor knows all about this stunt?” I remarks. “Not a thing,” returns McMe. ‘The night I saw him at his club he was in no condition to tell me apart from an ocean- going cattle boat. All I got from him was that bearer note you saw.” ‘Grogan,’ says I, ‘‘ got the idea the boss some way or other was behind you.” “T thought he might,”’ comes back Wiji coolly. ‘‘That’s why I got the note. I imagined he must have been worried some by the criticisms in the newspapers, and that a flashy young fellow with a letter from the owner would put suspicion in his head that Tabor was getting ready to shake up the club.” **Just what he doped out,”’ I nods. “To sell anything,” resumes McMe, ‘“‘you must create a demand, and to create a demand you must arouse curiosity.” says I, “but you’re ‘are bothering The Crest of the THE SATURDAY “Your name,” to start with.” My name,” smiles Wiji, “is William J Smith, the J standing for Jones.”’ “T see,” I grunts, “‘and that Thursday racket, the swell hotel, the millionaire hop and the girl and all the rest of the skits were just yokel yankers. How’d you hap- pen to pick on Thursday?”’ “T guess,”” laughs McMe, “because it’s the day after Wednesday. That girl stuff, though, was no part of my plan. Turner pat that into my head, without meaning to, by some of the questions he asked. I encouraged the idea. There’s nothing the public loves better than a boy fighting for a girl. That’s what pulls em into the movies As a matter of fact,’ adds Wiji softly, “there is a girl. We're to be married right after Easter. That’s one of the reasons I’m going North at once.” “I suppose,”’ says I, ‘‘you got her with a selling campaign.”’ *‘ All life,” comes back McMe, né Smith, “is a selling campaign.” “Getting Simonds’ goat,’ I remarks, changing the subject, ‘‘was the slickest part of your act.” ““You’ll remember,” says the youngster, “that Simonds started the quarrel we had in the clubhouse. My program called for nothing so crude. I was merely going after his morale by treating him as an inferior and by playing a daring, dashing type of ball that would make Bill look as if he was chained to the bag or too old and stiff to move. But that wasn’t the high light of the campaign.” “What was?” I asks. ‘Fighting with the umps over a decision in your favor.” ““A mere detail,’ returns McMe. ‘“‘My best turn was putting the notion into Gro- gan’s head that he wasn’t giving me a square deal. You get that thought into the mind of a decent man—and Bull’s decent and he’ll lean over backward to treat you right. That’s the whole story. The breaks I got from the newspapers, combined with the stuff I worked up myself against the background of a safe and sane and un- romantic team, delivered the goods. It was quite easy. I just made myself a red flower in a field of dead white.” The door to the room suddenly smashes open and in busts Al, Wiji’s secretary. He’s all excited and waving a newspaper. “Betty’s eloped!” he gasps. ‘‘ Look!” I can’t help reading the headline he’s pointing to: says I, “aroused curiosity SOCIETY GIRL SECRETLY WEDS CABARET DANCER It’s the girl McMe was to have married right after Easter. His staring eyes and pale lips tell me that. “‘Somebody,”’ I remarks, ‘“‘must have created a demand while you were away.” “But,”’ mumbles Wiji, paying no atten- tion to my crack, “how ia “Probably,” says I brightly, “by run- ning his initials together and refusing to dance on Thursdays.”’ Cascades, Oregon EVENING POST 213 Oyfj"a" these 4 say ousands confirm / AKE a look at the floor space your own letter- files occupy. Unless they contain 5 drawers, they are wasting 25% floor space. Even if this is immaterial Baker-Vawter Space Savers will prove economical. If saving floor space does matter Space Savers with one—sometimes two—extra drawers will give from 20% to 33% greater filing space per cabinet. Baker- Vawter knowledge and service demonstrated for 39 years by salesmen everywhere, is of course yours. Increase capacity one-third, without enlarging vault The Peoples Savings & Trust Company of Pittsburgh say: “Changing our old 4-drawer wood- *filing cabinet to Baker-Vawter 5- drawer Space Savers has given us over one-third more filing capacity besides saving us thousands of dol- lars for additional vault space.” —Gould Report “‘Pay for themselves several times during their long life’’ H. W. Eddy of St. Louis says: 2 We began 19 years ago with Ba- *ker-Vawter 5-drawer Space Savers. For low maintenance cost they are the best filing investment we know of. Each section is saving us $5.50 per year in floor space compared to 4-drawer files.’ —Gould Report Saves Moving to LargerQuarters Field and Cowles of Boston say: 3 “Our space limitation is so serious *that without our 120 Baker-Vaw- ter Space Savers we could not re main in our present quarters. “These 5-drawer files replaced 150 4-drawer sections. Saves us $700 yearly on floor space cost.” —Gould Report Files 330,000 More Pieces on Same Floor Space 4 The American State Bank of De- * troit say they can file 330,000more pieces in Baker-Vawter Space Sav- ers on the same floor space previ- ously occupied by ordinary steel files. In their mortgage vault 22 Space Savers supplanted 27 4- drawer cabinets, giving equal filing capacity. —Gould Report Attach to your Letterhead and Mail BAKER-VAwTER Co. Even if you use only one filing cabinet in Benton Harbor, Mich. your business this catalog will be helpful Ple to you. It shows how “Space Savers”’ will ease send me your c atalog increase the capacity of your filing room **Space Savers.” and how they pay for themselves in your office or vault. It is free—send for it. m Name

Page 216

eet eee A SUBMARINE puts out to sea. * The engines are shut off. Hatches are secured and valves opened to fill the “trimming tanks” as the orders to submerge are carried out. The work is done rapidly and well, for the Navy picks experienced sailors to man its sub- marines. Many are “continued service” men, as those who enlist more than once are called. NICHOLSON Files might well be called “continued service” files for the Navy has ordered the NICHOLSON Brand many times for duty on our undersea craft. Every day the NICHOLSON Brand is “enlisted” for “continued service” throughout industry and homes. Our booklet “Files and What They Will Do For You” tells more about these useful tools and many interesting uses CrOLSo Sey for them. A copy will be mailed you upon request. {TRADE MARK) —A File for Every Purpose NICHOLSON FILE Co. Providence, R.1., U. S.A. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE NEW CAPITALISM November 6, 1926 Continued from Page 5 shall produce, since all industry must be operated to meet consumer demand, and the majority, which is to say the wage workers, form the great body of consumers. When that time comes, he believes, the industrial overhead will be the wage bill and not the interest charge. Labor will have the first claim on the proceeds of business; ¢apital will take what is left. So Professor Carver. The reader can write his own ticket as to what he thinks the outcome will be. Let us take a concrete illustration of what labor is doing in banking and finance and see how far the movement has already got and how it got there. The completest example is that of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers, not only because it is the pioneer in the field of the modern labor bank but because its operations are on a unified national scale and in point of capital and volume of in- vestment activity it is by far the largest unit in the field. The American Federation of Labor has not as yet gone into banking as an organization; local unions and groups of unions affiliated with the Federation have established their banks in many cen- ters and with a high degree of success, but the Federation as such has so far adopted no policy in respect of labor banking. The third group of organized labor, the Amal- gamated Clothing Workers, has two large and successful banks, located in New York and Chicago, and an investment corpora- tion. The Brotherhood of Locomotive En- gineers owns twelve banks, with $4,150,000 of banking capital, not counting surpluses and undivided profits, with $40,436,654 in deposits and total banking resources of $48,220,519. It controls ten investment corporations, with a total combined capital of $26,500,000. It has a substantial interest in the handling of another $90,000,000 of banking resources, through stock ownership in one of the large New York trust com- panies. Here is a block of investment capital important enough to be listened to in Wall Street, owned by a group of wage earners which constitutes not much more than 3 per cent of America’s organized labor. The whole structure has been built up in less than six years. The Brotherhood opened its first bank on November 1, 1920. It had certain elements in its favor when it de- cided to go into the banking business, chief among them being public confidence in the integrity and conservatism of the Brother- hood’s leadership as demonstrated through- out its more than sixty years of existence. Sifted From the Mass I fancy none will challenge the statement that the late Warren S. Stone, under whose leadership the Brotherhood embarked upon its venture into high finance, commanded almost universal respect and admiration. Mr. Stone was succeeded as president by William B. Prenter, the present head of the 3rotherhood’s business enterprises. The office of Grand Chief Engineer, which per tains chiefly to the internal organization and purely labor-union aspects of the or- ganization, was relinquished by Mr. Stone some time before his death, his successor being L. G. Griffing, who is first vice presi- dent. The present Grand Chief Engineer is A. Johnston. These men and the other national officers of the organization were Mr. Stone’s confidants and trusted lieu- tenants, trained in the same school of social and economic thought, and each, like Mr. Stone himself, has risen to leadership from the ranks of the oldest labor organization in America. Even were its leaders not men of out- standing quality, there is that in the organ- ization itself which makes for a high degree of stability and conservatism. Its members are not alone the most highly paid of all wage earners, but the nature of their occu- pation imposes upon them a higher degree of responsibility and calls upon them for a quicker intelligence than is demanded in most other trades. Only four men have ever become members of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers who were not actually employed as locomotive drivers; that employment in turn is the result of selective tests which only 17 per cent of railway firemen, from whose ranks engineers are uniformly chosen, succeed in passing Only 6 per cent of firemen, in fact, ever become passenger engineers. The Brother hood, therefore, is made up of men who have been sifted from the mass of wage earners because of special qualities of in- telligence and reliability. In the Interest of Capital In its form and principles of organization it differs at many points from the standard labor union. With its secret ritual, obliga tions and discipline, its women’s auxiliary and other appendages, it follows mor closely the familiar forms of fraternal or- ganizations. To one of the fundamental principles of unionism, the closed shop, the Brotherhood has never subscribed, although its 91,000 members include approximately 95 per cent of the locomotive drivers in the United States and about the same ratio on the Canadian railroads. For this reason, among others, the Brotherhood of Loco- motive Engineers is not affiliated with the American Federation of Labor. By the same token, its approach to railway capital and management in its efforts to obtain better pay, working conditions and safety for its members has uniformly been on a somewhat different footing from that of the ordinary labor union, with the result of the development, in the course of years, of a high degree of mutual respect and tol- eration. From the inception of its financial enter- prises, therefore, the Brotherhood received encouragement and evidences of good will from sources which might have been ex- pected to be apathetic, if not openly an- tagonistic, totheentry of laborinto capital's preserves. “Capital simply can’t afford to let the 3rotherhood fail; it would be too serious to the growing amity between capital and labor,”’ is the way the head of one of Wall Street’s greatest financial in a setbac!l stitutions expressed the view of big busi- ness Another element making for the Brother hood’s success in high finance is the o1 ganization’s long experience in handling and investing large amounts of money in the conduct of its own affairs. Established in 1863, the Brotherhood, as early as 1868, set up an Insurance fund for the benefit of its members. The old-line insurance com panies refuse to insure locomotive engineer The risk is too great. The average life of an engineer after he takes charge of the throt- tle is only eleven years and seven days Every new member admitted since 1890 has been required to carry life insurance of one or more $1500 units. Accident-and health-insurance departments were added, pension funds for permanent disability or old-age retirement, widows’ pensions, and the like, with the result that the accumula- tion of reserve funds reached a point where their investment, for safety and income, brought those charged with their adminis- tration into many of the fields of high finance. Ten million dollars is no trivial amount to administer successfully. After paying out $4,394,363.41 in 1925, for all forms of insurance and pensions, the sur- plus remaining in these funds was above $10,694,000, and figures of similar magni- tude represent the average over many years. In 1910 the Brotherhood was able to finance the construction of its own headquarters building in Cleveland, a fourteen-story structure on a lot 132 by 165 feet. One floor suffices for the Brotherhood’s offices: the remainder, rented for stores and offices, Continued on Page 217

Page 217

SATURDAY EVENING POST

They raced . the western prairtes with the government mail as the stake NINCE i884, fast Burlington t s had carried — A serikis the government mail from Chicago to Omaha at atime these all-mail tra four or five a day and made history crashis 1 , That ch a record sh ) challenged was ; ; fl 1 l Th $1 ole mi t to be expected The government mail was a P ‘ ,

;' prize worth a railroad’s w r. And great train- , ; ; ne I Bu Ca vads of mail were not all of it [here was the | i . 14 K ) no ren restige for none put a tast road could compete I { M \ M rf y Y } \ t | hall td Lit Ciba Tit 4c La < Al i AL | | ~ Ste aA | 1, no 1 nid , + ving t | c iC th it st ] es M Wee p 1 verse h B q } x Davy af {ay rhe af I the challenger r Bur f Ss i ) atched ts tra Sa S ne B Across , f Dur i he west pr s. Ik } Te lant ] er i ’ ’ comot S st! 1 st el scles to 1¢ | nit r , F , i J ts first purp su i i : he challenger’s trains were emptv, but readv to x 1] } ‘ Y 4 vr t) a | e filled with the fast cargo et the government AL. “ac deon i Pr t 4 } } e the w cr The issue was I B e | v v , i t s to Rocks ‘ Buc more than tracks and powert locomotives achievement in good management, of course. O la t Cc la st ke a railroad. The Burlington still carries the the merit of its performance the Burlington has ist mail from Chicago to Omaha~—has carried it tinued as the fast mail carrier. There is no contract Me | , ( ’ R ston ] 4 - + ‘ ’ ’ ' ) le ‘ ’ , * fortv-two ninterrupted vears \ striking The government stays on as a satistied custom Q cv R f ; ty-iive vea The Burlington Route

Page 218

Gntroductory PA) FOR WOMEN Style PHANTOM — 4 sheer, C ——~ » To the American Public:— f fa ed Ockir pure \ sa 2 tani go Eady steading tag? | ea This unusual offer + geese In magazines a pair; 3 pair, ¥ Saving \ read by fifty million people. It means we shall $1.95 have to supply thousands of peoy + with free » non >i - ‘ ae Oe pairs of hose. We do that will: ed becaus« 1 Miele experience proves that 87 out of 100 people who Saving $1.85 give Durham Hosiery a real wearing-test co Style DAPHNE-— Pure tinue to buy Durham vear in and year out. We offer you one pair free with the pur sg gal ta P 4 chase of two pair because it takes three pair of Saving 31 ‘ : \\) hose for a convincing test. We want vou to Stvle MYSTIC— 4 dbeautifu nit use them, abuse them, put them to the test of Saving $1 hardest wear. Near your home at least one of the alert stores has in stock the ten Dur- ham styles offered. Clip the coupon and obtain your Durham Hosiery at once while sizes and colors are complete. Style LADY FAIR—Fine Ciarporn M. Carr, / Saving 39 cents D I Hos M peo Fe Saisie ae POI | 15 A } REDEEM BETWEEN NOVEMBER 5 & 13 4 | | Tt pon, f ed t s et fH D: H y i Na ( St D. , be) Su 4 co gerce ' Da € } ' + Bat ) es « > 26 ie p= fact ee ARGE ee Pe \ > 4 oy } y () ¥ ne Yer. shay only - ) ovember a i /> THE SATURDAY EVENING POST qith the Purcnase ¢ yf ney: par FOR WOMEN: MEN: CHILDREN November 6,1926 Style TRAYMORE Saving SO cents q Style DOLLAR BILI ! Saving 34 cents Style 1700-GS Saving 2 cents R CHILDR Style POLLY PRIM Saving 25 cents StyleRUGGLES 29 cents

Page 219

Sa

ne

Continued from Page 214 brings an income which in fifteen years has paid the entire cost of building and land, enabling the organization in 1925 to finance another building, twenty-one stories and covering an equal area, across the street, which serves as the home of its largest bank and headquarters for its general financial activities, as well as a still more prolific source of income. These two buildings cost around $9,000,000. With surplus funds accumulating in such amounts, the problem of how to invest them not alone for income but for the wid- est benefit of the membership is no new one. In the Brotherhood’s triennial con- vention of 1912 a resolution to establish a bank to be capitalized out of surplus re- serves was discussed, but voted down. The subject came up again in 1915, and this time a resolution was passed, authorizing the grand officers to engage in the banking business. Mr. Stone and his associate, Mr. Prenter, who had for years been the financial manager of the Brotherhood’s insurance and other funds, had by this time become greatly interested in the pos- sibilities of a Brotherhood bank, and prep- arations were being made to start one, when the entry of the United States into the European war put a temporary end to new enterprises. It was not until November 1, 1920, that the new bank actually opened for business. This bank is at once the pioneer of the modern labor-banking movement in Amer- ica and the largest bank controlled by or- ganized labor, with resources of nearly $27,000,000. Its full and somewhat cum- hersome title is Brotherhood of Locomo- tive Engineers Coéperative National Bank of Cleveland. It was and is a different kind ff al institution from any which had previously been undertaken by any labor rroup. It was frankly an experiment, and to many it seemed a dangerous experiment. Chief Stone, however, laid his plans care- fully, sought expert advice at every point and never had the slightest doubt of the outcome. “Starting a bank is as simple as starting a grocery store,”’ he is reported to have said, “‘with this differenee: That a larger percentage of grocers fail than of bankers.” Ff ine "” 0 nancl The Lack of Classes Labor’s previous ventures in the field of finance had been mainly confined to such enterprises as mutual building-and-loan as- coiperative credit unions, and the like, all under amateur and practically all under unpaid management. Many of these were characterized by a class-conscious distrust of the existing financial and social order and were permeated with the belief that bankers in general were in business for the purpose of robbing the poor for the benefit of the rich, without being very clear as to how the trick was done. Most of the discussion of labor banking prior to the opening of the Brotherhood’s first bank was based upon the theory that profits from banking, as well as from business generally, belong in the first instance to the customer, rather than to the investor; a theory which lies at the bottom of all the coéperative business enterprises which work so well among Europeans and so badly among Americans. Chief Stone and his associates had no delusions as to the nature of the business on which they were embarking. They knew that they could not rely upon the loudly preached but actually almost nonexistent ass-conscious solidarity of the workers to upport a bank on the scale to which they planned Even their own Brotherhood membership would require a deal of edu- cation and concrete demonstration before it could be counted upon for full support, they realized. They must, there- fore, so organize and establish their bank as to command the confidence and the busi- ness of the general public. To do this in- volved radical departures from all previous conceptions of labor banking. It meant the overboard of every half-baked sociations, throwing THE SATURDAY theory and ism, discarding all the class conscious shibboleths and placing the op erative management of the bank in the hands of expert bankers “Tt would be as logical to expect a banker to know how to run a locomotive as to ex- pect a locomotive engineer to know how to run a bank,” said President William B. Prenter, when I visited him in Cleveland in August. ‘“‘We set out with only one theory. That is the theory that in America there is no such thing as a working class as distinguished from a capitalist class. Men pass too readily from one group into the other to be tagged with class labels; an in- creasing proportion of Americans belong to both classes, and it is the Brotherhood’s aim in its financial enterprises to show its members and workers generally how they can become capitalists as well as workers “To do this we had to demonstrate some- thing which many workers did not believe that it is not necessary to change the estab- lished rules of business and finance to give the worker an even break. That meant that we must sit into the game of big busi- ness and play it according to the rules. In order to do that we had to be able to prove that we knew the rules and were not trying to change them for our especial benefit.” The Brotherhood in Control “That is what the socialists and the communists are trying to do—to change the rules of business and finance, on the plea that only by doing so has the wage earner a chance to enjoy the products of his labor. Mr. Stone and the rest of us did not believe that was necessary; we believed that in the world of money there is no class distinction. The only requisites for sitting in the game are the willingness to play it according to the rules and the ability to buy as big a stack of chips as the other players. We had the financial resources, and we could get the men who knew how the game is played. Our record of nearly six years proves that our theory was correct. We have demonstrated American labor’s complete answer to the theories of Marx and Lenin.”’ Soon November 1, 1920, the first Brother- hood bank was opened in a small building on the site of the present magnificent one. It was capitalized at $1,000,000, with $100,- 000 initial surplus, since increased to $250,- 000. Fifty-one per cent of the shares were bought outright by the Brotherhood itself; the remaining 49 per cent were offered to the membership in blocks of not more than three shares to an individual, at $110, pay- able over a period of several months. Every share was subscribed immediately; the de- mand, in fact, was greater than the supply. At the suggestion of John Skelton Williams, then Comptroller of the Currency, whose approval was necessary before a national- bank charter could be obtained, a contract was made with each purchaser of bank stock whereby the Brotherhood has the first option of purchase should the holder desire It is the fixed policy of the Brother- hood to exercise this option in every in- stance, thus retaining 100 per cent of the stock in the hands of the organization or its members. At the beginning of August, 1926, the organization’s repurchases under these options had increased its holdings to 60 per cent of the total Dividends under the bank’s charter are limited to ten per cent a year. In the first year of operation the dividend was six per cent, the second year eight, and since then ten per cent has been paid regularly. In addition to these dividends, the bank's earnings have been sufficient to increase the surplus and undivided profits by $250, 000 and to distribute $500,000 in the form of extra interest to savings account depos- itors. The one concession to the advocates of the standard coéperative principle that profits belong to customers, made by the Brotherhood in beginning the banking business, was to promise the depositors of savings accounts a share in the profits in addition to their regular four per cent in- terest. This practice, however, has been discontinued. to sell. EVENING POST

tw ~I

Cold At What Temperature Do YOU Drive O We C

ather Ruins List wanna $ Your Cylinders Prices,$7.5 Plated

Positive Oto$15.00 er

3 every make of car. Give yc ANY a valuable motor has been ruined by M cold weather. It is so easy tO OV erlook the damage that winter does because it is unseen Your first warning is hard starting and loss of power. Later, if these signs are neg serious damage that means expensive repairs and replacement. Your motor is a powerful but sensitive piece of

lected, comes mechanism, designed to do its best work at perature of 190°F. Whenallowedtoruncolder than this it forms carbon rapidly, dilutes your lubricat- 1 tem ing oil with raw, unexploded gasoline, puts exces- sive strain on starter and batteries, and starts an endless chain of trouble and expense. Cold weather is directly responsible tor excessive wear on cylinders and pistons, and badly scored walls that re- ' quire expensive work in the repair shop

The way to avoid trouble of this sort is to do as thou- sands are now doing—protect your motor, and keep it at proper running temperature with an Allen Shutter Front. The Allen Shutter Front gives you positive control over the heat of your motor. From your seat you can regulate it to meet every condition—every change in temperature and ilways works. So simple and inexpensive that thousar preter it to any other type of radiator protection. S some that it t§ use d is Star dard equi ment< There is an Allen SI nthe R

ind the very finest cars ir motor this prot add to your motoring satisfaction and save you money THE ALLEN AUTO SPECIALTY Co. Manufacturers also of The Famous Allen Tire Case 16 Weat 61st Street, N.Y 2015 Michigan Ave., Chicagc ALLEN SHUTTER @2) FRONT

FRONT “4

Hand Control From the Dash!-/tAhonys Works

Page 220

eas i sew ' for Men a THE SATURDAY Ge yy, = -_— /_ a =e . SP me s| LL 7 © IO the pair 1 good guide to good this sign on the windows of Bos tonians Dealers. It wll lead you to better fitted style—style that IS different. shoes i BOSTONIANG } BYU AA} renee eres UWP ee ee eee eee ee bee “Srrrrerrrress r \/ 4 BOSTONIANS : 4s P Shoes ; > ) cs J Ven . f f I \ \ / \ / \| ( } \ a \ j} STADIUM HAT are you looking for in shoes? Is it something more than even that indefinite thing called “style”? Individuality! That's the word— the thing that makes Bostonians dis- tinctive, that gives them character. Individual Correct—invariably. -yes. Conspicuous—no. Why not memorize the name right Then locate the let him fit you, now—Bostonians. Bostonians dealer, and begin a new and finer experi- ence in shoes. SHOE & LEATHER COMPANY Mas COMMONWEALTH Whitman, : pos romiang The individuality of Bostonians 1s well showninthe Fall Style Booklet. We have a copy for you. May we send it? ae —— ——— lll = =e ee ee Se ee See ee Lh j= EVENING POST Any business which can start from scratch and in five years earn profits of 119 per cent or more on its capital, while at the same time enlarging its resources from $650,000 to more than $26,000,000, thereby demonstrates not only great and growing confidence on the part of its clientele but more than ordinarily expert management. Were the bank’s business confined to the membership of the Brotherhood, with its closely knit fraternal organization, the item of confidence might be taken for granted. But while nearly two-thirds of the Cleve- land bank’s deposits are in savings accounts, only about 14 per cent of the total of these are in the names of members of the Brother- hood. It is the bank’s business with the general public which forms the backbone | of its activities. | Cleveland Except for the name on the door, nobody entering the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers Coéperative National Bank of or any of the other labor banks, for that matter—discovers anything, either in the physical set-up, the method of doing business, the appearance and manner of the personnel or the intangible atmosphere of the institution to distinguish it from an ordinary capitalist bank of equal financial size. The only exception to that general statement is a somewhat more cordial wel- , come to the man or woman whose manner and apparel indicate unfamiliarity with large-scale monetary transactions than the average worker expects to find in a bank. ‘*One of the things which a labor bank can do for labor, that many commercial banks do not do,”’ said Chief Stone not long be- fore his death in 1925, ‘is to make the workingman feel at home.’’ He himself 2zdmitted that although he had been doing business with banks for forty years he had never gotten over the chilly sensation which assailed him whenever he entered the por- tals of a financial institution, and it is a cardinal policy of the Brotherhood’s banks, laid down by him, to make every visitor feel and know that he is welcome, whether he has business to transact or not. The big banking room of the Brother- hood’s Cleveland bank and the offices of its officers and employes are perhaps a trifle more severe in their architecture and deco- rative effect than are usual, even in banks. The effect of stability and dignity has been well achieved, however, and there is even a more appreciable sense of quiet orderli- ness than one expects to find in a big and busy bank. And when one meets the ad- ministrative officials he finds immediately that he is talking to bankers. Bankers at the Helm The presidents of all the Brotherhood’s banks, in most of the ‘m some of the vice presidents, and in all of them a majority of the directors are locomotive engineers, officers of the Brotherhood, trained in sound finance in the handling of the organization’s investment funds for many years. The active administrative per however, has been drawn from the ranks of the bank- One of the vice presidents rsonnel, ing profession. of the Cleveland bank was taken from the largest bank in that city, where he had occupied a similar position for years. An- other was brought to Cleveland from a Canadian bank, to take particular charge of the business of the bank with the Cana- dian members of the Brotherhood. A third, at the head of the bank’s bond department, had a long experience in selling high-grade securities to Cleveland business men for one of the other banks. The executive vice president of the Cleveland bank, Mr. George T. Webb, is a North Dakota lawyer and banker who, when the state of North Dakota in 1920 found the market for its state bonds stag- nant and its state bank under fire, went in person into the enemy's country, single- handedly stormed the citadel of the money power in Wall Street, and so established confidence in himself and in his state that the North Dakota bonds were speedily .i- sorbed and his own financial ability recog- nized by a place on the directorate of one November 6,1926 of New York’s most important banking institutions. In Mr. Webb Chief Stone found a sympathetic counselor who was able to open many useful doors to the Brotherhood’s banking venture, and the banker-lawyer from North Dakota has played and continues to play an important part in the widespread ramifications of the Brotherhood’s financial operations whic have followed upon the successful launch- ing of the Cleveland bank There was $50,971 in deposits on the day the Cleveland bank opened for busi- ness. Two months later, on the last day of 1920, the deposits were above $1,000,000 and the resources almost $2,250,000. In another year there was more than $10,- 000,000 of resources. Chiéf Stone and his associates knew they right track, and decided to take a seat at the table with Wall Street’s captains of finance. It was a new experience to both sides and further cemented the foundations of du- rable mutual respect. were on the Partners in Finance It was in a real sense epoch-making, the first venture into partnership of labor and capital in a big business transaction. For what was probably the first time, capital got a clear view of labor as neither a sup- pliant nor a menace, but as an equal at every point, when the National City Com- pany, subsidiary of the largest bank in America, joined with the Cleveland Broth- erhood bank, as partners, in the purchase of $3,500,000 worth of bonds of the International-Great Northern Railroad Company. It was not an underwriting transaction, but a joint purchase, and it wrote a vital chapter in America’s eco- nomic and social history. That was the first of many similar trans- actions. The Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers is recognized today in Wall Street as a source of capital so important as to entitle it to participation in any bond underwriting, however large, and invita- tions to participate in the syndicates formed by them come to it from the largest and most influential banking houses in the world. Such invitations it accepts or re- jects according to the judgment of the banking managements of the desirabilit of the issue and their own ability to sell tl e bonds to their customers and especially t the Brotherhood membership For investment of their savings in sound, interest-bearing preferably bonds, is the second step in the financial education of the individual worlen r, which is the prime purpose of the labor-banking movement. The first is the ‘esminieiion of savings in one place and under their own control; that is comparatively easy. The second step—learning how to invest in- telligently—comes hard. But unless the workers can be taught to do this as indi- gain the knowledge of and business which comes only from to them has having their own banks and y securities, viduals, and so finance experience, been gained by trust companies. “First we try to induce our members to put their savings in our harder to persuade out,” said Chief Stone. gets $500 in his savings account with us we try to sell him a bond. We want to start them in the habit of clipping coupons. We like the partnership in business which stock ownership gives, but we do not believe that many workers can afford to assume the risks involved by the stockholder. Owner- ship of a bond makes a man a creditor. We sold many of the Great Northern bonds to men employed on that railroad. Immedi- ately each became concerned with the first concern of a creditor for his debtor—the debtor’s solvency. Bonds bring a sense of responsibility and of security.”’ The purchase of securities for its own account, as profitable investment of cus- tomers’ funds, is, of course, one of the chief functions of every bank. The purc} securities at wholesale for resale to customer no great benefit banks, then we try them to take them “As soon as a man ise of Continued on Page 221

Page 221

| ot aes THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The principal problem of industry today lies in the elimination of wasted time Eliminate the conjusion,the wasted steps of obsolete motor control! Modern con- trol takes its savings out of labor cost, the major item of manufacturing expense. More than ever before in the history of America’s in- dustries, the major problem today lies in the cost of labor. It is not a problem confined to large plants. It is not a problem alone for the small manufacturer. Nor is it the problem of any certain industry or group of industries. It is the vital problem of every manufacturer under the competitive conditions that exist for all. Economists agree that wages must be maintained for the prosperity America now enjoys. The improved standard of living which has resulted from higher wages has been responsible in the main for the greater sale of every man- ufactured product. The success of your plant hinges on the return you are able to obtain from this increased investment in labor—it hinges on the elimination of wasted time in production. Conditions today demand careful consideration of correct motor control Many executives make the mistake of believing their plant at maximum efliciency when they can say it is completely motorized. True, electric power with its flexibility, its ease of control, has brought a new stand- ard of operating economy. CUTLER« But motors by themselves are only brute force. The savings in labor that result—these savings that add so materially to industrial profits—come through the proper application of motors. They come through the eflective- ness of correct motor control. Look now for the wasted time in your plant! Are you burdening your men with obsolete equipment? Unless someone has been in constant touch with the rapid prog- ress made in motor control, your plant is almost certain to have lagged behind. Engineers with more than thirty years’ experience to point out the savings possible Many executives are making this check on their pro- duction efficiency by having the Cutler-Hammer engi- neers point out the equipment in their plant where modern motor control will save in labor costs. Put the control of your motors at the hand of the operator where no time is lost. Eliminate the confusion, the wasted steps of obsolete equipment. Somebody must discover this in your plant. Why not call in these engi- neers today? They will counsel with your plant men or consulting engineers without charge—and the control equipment they recommend quickly pays for itself. The CUTLER-HAMMER Mfg. Co. Pioneer Manufacturers of Electric Control Apparatus 1259 St. Paul Avenue - . Milwaukee, Wisconsin Have you received your copy of ry It points the way to Elec any U o} cx m use trica L Progress orth while economies rrect motor control interested. Writ t jor a copy eiAMMER Somebody must discover this in YOUR plant / rough the today Industrial Efficiency Depends on Electrical Control

Page 222

ate ENS PLE ME ge te THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SSS « 2 EEE ate AN ENTIRE FACTORY UNDER THE MICROSCOPE A Bunting Bushing Bearing is the product of scientifically controlled manufacturing processes. All raw metals are analyzed. Charges for the furnaces are assembled under supervision of laboratory workers. Expert metallurgists supervise every foundry process. The staying quality in Bunting Bushing Bearings is obtained by inflexible adherence to prede- termined proportions in assembling the raw metals, and the utmost care in all melting and casting Operations. As the Bushing Bearings move through the various departments they are subjected to con- stant, close inspection. The result is that Bunting Bushing Bearings are exactly what the specifications call for. Over 5000 leading manufaeturers of automobiles and machinery, and repairmen everywhere specify Bunting Bushing Bearings because they want a bushing bearing that is chemically, physically and mechanically right. Special Designs Standard Automotive Replace- Phosphor Bronze and Sizes Sizes in Stock — ment Bushings Cored and Solid Bars Completely machined and finished. THE BUNTING BRASS & BRONZE CO., TOLEDO, OHIO NEW YORK CHI AC 10 PHILADELeH uA SAN | FR ANC IscO BOSTOD 45 West 54th St. 2015 S Mux Ave ) i s 36 Olhit FrA TENT € VU Nevember 6, 1926 | | |

Page 223

a? Fe (Continued from Page 218 depositors at retail is one of the important ways in which banks make money. And the wholesale price of securities, as of other commodities, depends upon the quantity purchased at one time. Not many indi- vidual banks can buy for themselves or have such a customers’ list that they can be assured of distributing large enough blocks of bonds to entitle them to ground- floor prices— participation in original under- writing syndicates. But the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers, with its chain of banks connected by their private telegraph wire, has developed both the purchasing and the distributing power to enable it to do that. The first bank added to the original one in Cleveland was the People’s Coéperative State Bank of Hammond, Indiana. This was not founded by the Brotherhood, but in 1921, when its management found itself in financial difficulty, an appeal was made to the Brotherhood for help. As many rail- road men in Hammond, an important rail center, were depositors of the bank and its only need was additional capital, the Brotherhood officials came to the rescue. The Hammond bank’s stock was increased from $25,000 to $50,000 and the Brother- hood bought a controlling interest at $100 ashare. Within a year the Hammond bank was on a 10 per cent dividend basis, and when the Brotherhood sold its shares in 1926 they brought $200. There were sev- eral excellent reasons why the Brotherhood did not need the Hammond bank as a link in its chain. It stands now as an inde- pendent labor bank, and, with above $1,750,000 of resources, is one of the out- letsthrough which the Brotherhood markets the securities in which it deals. Getting Into Wall Street That was a profitable transaction, the first of several transactions in the purchase and sale of bank stocks in which the Broth- erhood has made considerable profits. As soon as the Cleveland bank was well under way Mr. Stone determined upon the in- vasion of New York. It would have been easy enough to start a new bank there, but he realized that its success would be limited until and unless the confidence of the New York banking world in the Brotherhood’s financial ability and freedom from what Wall Street calls radicalism was estab- lished. That once established, the Brother- hood could go as far in the bankers’ big league as its resources and ability war- ranted. George T. Webb had established relations with the Empire Trust Company; a large block of shares in that company was on the market and at a fair price. Though not one of the largest New York banks, the Empire Trust, with resources now above $90,000,000, was in excellent standing and reputation. The Brotherhood bought the stock. It never controlled the Empire Trust Company; the precise pro- portion of its holdings to the total number of shares has never been publicly disclosed. It was not much less than a half interest; but the prestige which it established for the Brotherhood was of more importance than the actual ownership of the stock. Mr. Stone and several of his associates were elected to the Empire Trust Company di- rectorate, and five of the Brotherhood's national officers still have seats on the board. This strategic entrance into Wall Street and the realm of high finance served the double purpose which Mr. Stone had in- tended it should. It gave the Brotherhood ficials entr‘e into the inner circles with the minimum of risk, enabling them to learn at first hand and close range the processes and methods of big business, and it brought about valuable contacts between the per- sonnel of big business and themselves. By no other means could the way have been paved so solidly and so speedily for the extension of the Brotherhood’s financial activities on a large scale. Early in 1926 an opportunity was presented to sell a block of the Empire Trust stock at a handsome THE SATURDAY profit, and as this could be done without impairing the good relations which had been established, the Brot herhood dispose a of a considerable part of its holdings, re¢ taining, however, its seats on the trust company’s board of directors. With a New York connection thus estab- lished, the Brotherhood’s next step forward was the organization, early in 1922, of the Brotherhood Holding Company, an Ohi corporation with $1,000,000 of 7 per cent preferred stock and an equal number of shares of common stock. Fifty-one per cent of the shares were purchased by the Brotherhood as an organization, 25 per cent were deposited with the state of Ohio as a surety bond, and the remainder was offered to the Brotherhood membership at par. Earlier offerings of securities to the membership had begun the process of edu- cation in investing, so that one circular offering the holding-company all there were to sell. shares sold Capital's Landlord Through the holding company the Brotherhood in 1923 bought a bank just being organized by a labor group in Min- neapolis, now known as the Transportation Brotherhoods’ National Bank of Minne- apolis. The ownership of its $200,000 capi- tal, as its name implies, is shared with the Brotherhoods of Firemen and Enginemen and Railroad Trainmen and the Order of Railway Conductors, with the Brother- hood of Locomotive Engineers owning the controlling interest. It was quickly put on a dividend basis and by midsummer of 1926 had resources totaling $2,420,835. The chain of banks was not yet long enough or the education of the Brotherhood members and other depositors in the art of investment sufficiently complete to enable the banks to purchase and distribute securities in large blocks. Through the rela- tions established in New York, however, excellent investments were becoming avail- able, and in order to participate in these the Brotherhood Investment Company was organized, also an Ohio corporation, in 1923, with $10,000,000 of 7 per cent pre- ferred stock and an equal number of shares of common. The Brotherhood bought 51 per cent of the common stock, selling the rest, with a bonus of common to each two shares of preferred, to the general public. It took only four months to market these $10,000,- 000 of shares at par, at a sales cost of a little more than 9 per cent. The investment company began to make money immedi- ately and has continued to do so, paying its preferred dividends regularly and accumu- lating a substantial surplus. Through the Brotherhood Investment Company the most spectacular, though not the largest, of the Brotherhood’s New York financial operations to date was made —the purchase in 1924 of controlling interest in the gigantic Equitable Building at 120 Broadway. This $40,000,000 structure, for years the largest building in the world in point of floor space, stands in the very heart and center of New York’s financial district and houses the main offices of scores of the world’s greatest industrial and finan cial institutions. By the purchase of 63,000 of the 110,000 shares of the owning corpo- ration labor became at one stroke the landlord to which capital in its most con- centrated form paid rent! Had the purchase of the Equitable Build- ing amounted to nothing more than a ges- ture it would have been worth its cost to the Brotherhood. It was a notification which could not be ignored that the loco- motive engineers had arrived. If anybody had seriously expected a cataclysm to cele- brate labor’s seizure of foothold in the stronghold of capital, he was disappointed. Wall Street took the news with its accus- tomed calm. It was not labor but capital which had bought the Equitable Building: and the only disappointments experienced were by those who had fondly believed that it made a difference to big business whether employers or employes owned the cap'tal On the Brotherhood s‘de thers no room EVENING POST | ( nA "A > 4 > »,! ye y _ ‘ Weex\/ Tastes TLL \. A Mad 4>, 4,0", th + R—R—R—R! Cold outside. But it’s warm inside in a minute—even though the furnace fire has died down while you were gone. Light the Perfection Heater and warmth instantly radiates to every corner of the room. Carry it anywhere you need extra heat—at any time. Your dealer will show you the new models. PERFECTION STOVE COMPANY + C land, ¢ In Canada, the Perfection Stove ( 9 Ltd » Sarnia, Ontar Chases Chills from Cold Corners PERFECTION Oil Heaters

Page 224

THE SATURDAY where lire Strength is needed Most HE most vulnerable part of any tire is the part you never see— he cord constructed carcass beneath the tread. sa revolutionary new achieve ultiplies by many times the resistant strength o Each individual cord in Cooper Long Service Tires i is c¢ omp fi tely arm al with a prote ting cushion of live, resilient pure gum i and surrounded with this elastic armor Coo yper Armored Cord Construction wards off ro ad shocks before they do it increases the inherent strength of the cor cords never touch one another as the ie tire fle xe s ‘St rT this soft rubber cushion ally increases the flexibility anc Each cord is thoroughly in totally shielded from shocks and it eliminates disastrous to C ooper Long Service Tires o the thousands you've learned Armored Cord Construction is dist inctive Balloons and Heavy Duty} h good tires aCons. DEALERS: The new Armored Cord Construction of Cooper Long Service Tires offers unusual opportunity for live dealers everywhere. Write forcomplete information regarding the valuable Cooperfranchise. THE COOPER CORPORATION EVENING POST | for doubt that this transaction and the sense of equality which the ownership of | the Equitable Building conferred remeved any last lingering trace of anything resem- bling an inferiority complex. The Brotherhood did not have to take it out in satisfaction, however. They had bought the Equitable shares at thirty-eight dollars, a total price of $2,394,000; they sold them to the Vanderbilt group less than two years later at fifty-three dollars, receiv- | ing $3,339,000, thus making a net profit, | above whatever the stock earned mean- | time, of $945,000, a return which even big business would have regarded as adequate. In the meantime the Brotherhood had started the first bank all its own in New York City—the Brotherhood of Locomo- tive Engineers Coéperative Trust Com- pany, at the corner of Seventh Avenue and West 33d Street. It was capitalized at $700,000, with $250,000 surplus, and was opened for business in December, 1923. It did a good business, but not big business. By the summer of 1926 its deposits were above $6,000,000 and its total resources above $7,250,000. But the real purpose | which the Brotherhood felt its New York | bank should serve could not, it was early apparent, be served by a bank in that loca- tion. ‘We are in the financial big league as investors,”’ is the way L. G. Griffing, first vice president of the Brotherhood’s finan- cial organizations, expressed it to me. “As a neighborhood bank our New York trust company has done excellently, but that is all it can ever become. It was of more value to the business men of that vi- cinity than it was to us, so when they offered to buy it from us at a satisfactory profit, we sold it to them. When we start another bank in New York it will be in the big- league class. With our national chain of banks growing as it is, and the establish- ment of other labor banks everywhere, we are justified in believing that the time will come when we should own in New York a bank big enough to serve them all on a na- tional scale.” From Coast to Coast On the heels of the opening of its New York bank the Brotherhood threw its lines toward the Pacific, with the organization of the Pacific Brotherhood Investment Company, with headquarters in Portland, Oregon, and a capital stock of $3,000,000, of which the Brotherhood holds its custom- ary 51 per cent, the remainder being sold to its members and the public at par. By the recent absorpticn of the California Brotherhood Investment Corporation, or- ganized later with $1,000,000 capital, the Pacific company now had $4,000,000 of capital. Through it have been organized the six banks which, up to September, 1926, constitute the Pacific Coast links of the Brotherhood’s banking chain. These are the Brotherhood’s coéperative Na- tional Bank of Spokane, capitalized at $200,000 and with more than $3,000,000 of resources; the Brotherhood State Bank of Spokane, located in Hillyard, a suburb of Spokane, $25,000 capital and $236,286 re- sources; the Brotherhood Bank and Trust Company of Seattle, with $250,000 capital and $1,126,621 of resources; the Brother- hood Codéperative National Bank of Ta- coma, capitalized at $200,000 and having resources of $2,929,338; the Brotherhood Codperative National Bank of Portland, a $200,000 bank whose resources have reached $2,327,205, and the newly organized Brotherhood National Bank of San Fran- cisco, capitalized for $500,000, but not yet open for business as this is written. From the Pacific Coast the Brotherhood jumped to the Atlantic seaboard. The New England Brotherhood of Locomotive Engi- neers Securities Corporation was organized under Massachusetts laws, with $2,000,000 capital, 51 per cent held by the Brother- hood, to serve chiefly as a medium through which to organize banks in the Northeastern states and hold their shares and other se- curities. So far only one bank has been November 6, 1926 opened in this territory—the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers National Bank of Boston, with $500,000 capital and $100,000 surplus, and total resources of $4,135,828 Then followed the Brotherhood of Loco- motive Engineers Securities Corporation of Pennsylvania, a $3,000,000 concern, under whose xgis the Philadelphia bank known as the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engi- neers Title and Trust Company was opened. This bank has $500,000 capital, $250,000 surplus, and resources at this writing of $1,942,339. In like manner there were es- tablished the Southern Brotherhood of Lo- comotive Engineers Securities Corporation, with $2,000,000 capital, and the Brother- hood of Locomotive Engineers Bank and Trust Company, at Birmingham, Alabama. This bank has $500,000 capital and re- sources of $1,957,598. The twelfth bank in the chain is the Nottingham Savings and Banking Company at Nottingham, Ohio, with $75,000 capital and $823,694 resources. Definitely Friendly How much farther the chain may be extended is a matter for the future to de- cide. It is the avowed purpose of the Brotherhood to open new banks or buy out existing ones whenever and wherever favor- able opportunity offers and the time seems ripe. Every new bank helps to enlarge the opportunity for educating the workers to invest their savings in sound securities, and by broadening the market for such securi- ties and increasing the organization’s dis- tributing power, enables labor to take a larger and larger part in the financing of in- dustry through bond flotations and share participation. It was slow work building up the dis- tributing power of the Brotherhood banks to the point where the purchase of securi- ties in large blocks was justified by the cer- tainty that they would be readily marketed through the organization’s machinery. It became apparent soon after the chain of banks had begun to extend that a unified system of dealing in stocks and bonds was necessary; otherwise the banks in the chain would be bidding against each other. So the Brotherhood went a step farther into the field of high finance with the establish- ment of the New York Empire Company, capitalized for $500,500, which became the brokerage house through which purchases and sales of securities for the account of all the organization’s banks and other finan- cial institutions are made in the open market. At the head of the New York Empire Company, as president, is Darragh A. Park, for years a partner in one of the large Stock Exchange brokerage houses. The private telegraph wire which connects all the banks in the chain except those in Philadelphia and Birmingham has its New York terminus in his offices at 120 Broadway. A pri- vate telephone line connects the Philadel- phia bank. At present the Birmingham bank is too far out of the circuit to warrant a private wire connection. “By this system we are able to get in- stant action on any new offering or turn in the market,”’ Mr. Park told me. ‘The New York Empire Company is constantly informed of the securities each bank or finance corporation of the Brotherhood is holding. If the market for any of these takes a turn which offers an opportunity to sell at a profit, it takes but a few minutes to transmit the information and receive the bank’s decision; similarly speedy action is obtainable in the matter of purchases. A bank in the chain may, for example, antici- pate the withdrawal of a large deposit of state funds, and send me such a wire as | got a short time ago: ‘Expect withdrawal of $2,000,000 in ten days; please take care of us.’ “Sitting here in the market place it is much easier for us to sell bonds owned by that bank which will provide the needed $2,000,000, and get the best price for them, than it would be for the individual bank to attend to the transaction. (Continued on Page 225)

Page 225

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST t your Finger Tips, IGHT at your finger tips! A range of openings that gives the correct degree of motor protection against any weather condition. A dash control, which allows almost micrometer ad- justment, and always indicates accu- rately the degree of opening. J HOT MOTOR When the weather is warn., or when the mo- Sats! tor has been warmed to a point of efficient oper ation, all the leaves of Moto-Gard can be openes ---the Finest Shutter Made \ YOW for protection of your motor against holds it firmly place No driiling of the damaging cold weather dash is necessary. NORMAL In Moto-Gard you get also a thin, yet rigid, shutter Patented de WINTER DRIVING Adjustable Control built-in appearing vices make it absolutely rattleless Leaves Just protection, however, is not the only fac open inwardly and can be replaced easily tor vital to shutter satisfaction. Your motor if accidentally broken. Moto-Gard always requires a shutter with a gradual range of open works and cannot get stuck or clogged with ings that will permit control of the motor temper- ine oF snow ature to meet changing weather conditions. This is made necessary because water is coolest when These are factors that are vital to a it strikes the bottom of the radiator, its first They are all in Moto-Gard, the easiest to oper freezing point. From there the freezing area ex- tends upward as the temperature goes lower Moto-Gard leaves, therefore, are built in two r ‘ sections to provide Triple Service Protection An Engineering Feat This protection, so essential to efficient motor Moto-Gard didn’t just happen. Our engi operation, is clearly illustrated in the panel neers made an exhaustive study to determine to the left. what the motoring public wanted in a shutter " 7 * that would be accepted as perfect. Moto-Gard Moto-Gard has an attractive dash control, is the result—an engineering achievement offer harmonizing in appearance with ing mechanical perfections found For driving in the the other instruments on the in no other shutter. severest winter weather dash. It is within easy reach of E or when the motor is the driver, and takes so little For All Cars cold and a quick warm pressure that it can be operated ing up is desired, all with the finger tips. A screw : At your regular dealer the leaves can be mechanism completely concealed The Brewer-Titchener Corp closed. Cortland, New York j For normal winter driving the bottom half can be closed while the upper half is opened or adjusted at will to any ate, the smartest appearing and finest all-around degree of opening until shutter made. almost closed. Prices $9.50, $12.50 and $15.50

Page 226

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

November 6, 1926

Since 1915-— | BOVE the din of the city’s noise, beyond the glare of the city’s streets, radio surges in ceaseless ebband flowthrutheether. Around us, with- in us, its electro-magnetic impulses are throbbing endlessly. Yet the delights of radio pass on unheard until these impulses are trapped and tamed. To trap and to tame them is the task of Cunning- ham Radio Tubes. Foreleven years these tubes have served increasing millions of Americans in every socket of their broadcast receivers. An integrity — invisible as radio ¢ Ob)

Manuf i and inder rights, patents and inventions NEW YORK

RADIO ~ Conquerors _ of Time and Space

CHICAGO

waves, yet just as real—is ever present in the manufacture, sale, and service of every Cunningham Radio Tube. This integrity controls every step from technical research to ultimate sale. Asa direct result, Cun- ningham Radio Tubes are domi- nant inmillionsof homeswheretone quality is valued at its true worth.

Tubes do make or mar the per- formance of your broadcast re- COIVOT. ..... The ever increasing | popularity «f Cunningham Radio Tubes is the best possible demon- stration that they make maximum performance a reality. (a) —— ke ydoo <

In the Orange and Blue Carton t ed by Radi are Corporation of Ame SAN FRANCISCO

Page 227

<_<

(Continued from Page 222) “We have developed our purchasing and distributing power now to the point where we are invited to participate in practically all the important underwriting and dis- tributing syndicates on precisely the same terms as the largest banking institutions in the Street. I can give an answer very quickly as to the size of our participation, if the issue seems desirable for our purposes, by sending a single message over our pri- vate wire to all our banks, inquiring how many bonds or shares each can handle. Of course there are many issues, both of bonds and stocks, which do not appeal to us, al- though they are perfectly legitimate pur- chases for banks whose clientele has had a longer experience in the investment field and who are presumably warranted in tak- ing larger risks than the wage earner ought to take. Safety and quick marketability are the first considerations.” “Have you found any evidences of an- tagonism on the part of the Street toward labor as bankers?’’ I asked. “‘Not the slightest,”” was the instant re- sponse. “‘On the contrary, such sentiment as is manifested is all the other way. I should say that while the great majority of bankers and brokers have no feeling one way or the other about the entrance of labor into the field of finance, the men at the head of the largest and most important financial institutions are emphatically and definitely friendly. It was one of those who said to me: ‘Capital simply cannot afford to let labor fail in its financial enter- prises, for labor’s success means the perma- nent solution of all the differences which have existed between labor and capital.’”’ Since its first great adventure in Inter- national-Great Northern bonds the Brother- hood has participated in numerous under- writing and distributing syndicates, mainly industrials, but the variety of securities bought and sold by and for the account of labor’s big chain of financial institutions covers practically the whole range of offer- ings such as any other first-rate bond house dealing only in high-grade securities might list. To illustrate, I have before me a printed list of offerings recommended for invest- ment by the Brotherhood’s Cleveland bank to its customers. Here are seven different municipals bonds of towns and counties; three foreign labor lends its money abroad, just as capital has always done; eight issues of power-and-light bonds, representing liens on as many public utilities scattered from California to Pennsylvania via Louisiana; four railroad issues, especially appropriate, it would seem, for the Brotherhood; seven industrials, including two issues in which the Brotherhood participated in the original underwriting, and four real-estate mort- gage bonds. Just under $1,000,000 worth of bonds listed on this one daily circular, bonds owned by labor’s bank and offered as investments for labor’s savings. issues Customers in the Community “We don’t deal exclusively with the members of the Brotherhood, of course,” said A. B. Green, one of the vice presidents of the Cleveland bank, in charge of the bond department. ‘‘We handle securities just as other banks do; our salesmen have their regular customers among the business community and are constantly adding to their lists of investors. While the com- bined investment power of the Brotherhood membership is great, comparatively few ndividual members are classifiable as large nvestors, and it will be a good while yet before anything like 100 per cent of the membership become investors at all. But he proportion who are saving regularly and putting their savings into the securi- ties we offer is growing satisfactorily. Last year, 1925, for example, we sold through this bank $9,996,300 of securities. About $3,000,000 were sold at wholesale to insur- ance companies. Of the retail sales about one-sixth, or about $1,200,000, were made to the Brotherhood membership. THE SATURDAY “This year, so far, the sales to members have increased steadily. August is always a dull month, but in August, 1926, mem- bers of the Brotherhood bought nearly $150,000 of securities. “Sales to the membership are made en- tirely by mail. The membership list is jealously guarded, and before this bond department can send out an offering to the members the approval of the advisory board of the Brotherhood has to be ob- tained and its members satisfied that the securities we propose to offer are pre- cisely what locomotive engineers and fire- men ought to invest their money in. We use the Brotherhood of Firemen’s list, as well as that of the engineers; but nobody in this department knows the name of a single member until he becomes a customer, or responds to our advertisement in the | journals published by the Brotherhoods of Engineers, Firemen and Trainmen and the Order of Railway Conductors.” No Loss to Investors “Sales of bonds to workers are naturally in small units as a rule—$100, $560 and $1000. But one of the reasons why we get invited into nearly all of the big under- writings is that when we once have a bond sold to a railroad man it usually stays sold. It doesn’t come popping back into the mar- ket in large blocks to upset prices, as it might if it were in the hands of a business house which is constantly changing its in- vestments. We have made it a rule so far to repurchase bonds bought by our mem- bers at the price they paid, if the market has gone down, or at the market if it shows a profit. “We figure that the possible trifling loss in the rare instances when we might have to take a loss is part of the necessary cost of educating the wage earner into a capitalist. And when a member wants to sell his bonds we try to find out why. If he has a legitimate need for the money, well and good, but if he has been listening to some smooth salesman who is trying to switch him from a sound 6 or 7 per cent investment into a speculative blue-sky pro- motion, we try to keep him from being switched. “Mr. Stone not long before his death made the statement that the membership of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engi- neers alone was swindled out of more than $7,000,000 in 1922 by blue-sky artists who sold them worthless shares. A very im- portant part of this department's work is advising members, who are getting more and more in the habit of writing to us whenever any sort of an investment is of- fered to them from any source. Some of their letters are pitiful, telling how they were induced to put their savings into some wild-cat scheme and begging us to tell them how to get their money out. Sometimes it is the other way about. We received a let- ter not long ago from a member who re- ported that he had bought twenty-three shares, some years ago, of an automobile concern which is no longer in business. He supposed the stock was worthless, but we were able to assure him that through the | merger of the corporation which issued it with a larger concern the shares which had cost him about $2000 were now worth al- most $3500 in the open market. “The great majority of the purchases of securities made by our members are on the installment plan. Of course, anybody can buy good bonds on installments, but few people realize that. Twenty per cent down and 10 per cent a month, with bank in- terest on the deferred payments, usual method. We make it our business to point out to our savings depositors as soon as they have accumulated a few hundred dollars in their savings accounts, that they can get a larger return for their money by making a first payment of $100 or $200 on a $500 or $1000 bond and then making monthly payments on it instead of, or in addition to, regular savings deposits.” A tabulated report of a single day’s busi- ness of the bank’s bond department, picked

EVENING POST This Advertisement ught to Sell UNDREDS More Thana Million FRANCISCO HEATERS of thousands of FRANCISCO AU TO HEATERS are sold every year. Millions would be purchased if all motorists realized how simple a matter it is to be absolutely certain of summer driving comfort in coldest winter weather. The luxury of riding in cozy comfort—when blizzards blow and all outdoors is held fast in an icy grip—is readily available to owners of both closed and curtained open cars. The heat is there, so why not use it? Surely not because of high cost. FRANCISCO HEATERS not only cost nothing to operate—they actu- ally pay for themselves by increasing the efficiency of the motor at the same time that they deliver clean, pure fresh-air heat in gratifying volume. con For All

The Francisco Line iscomplete. There is a FRANCISCO HEATER forevery standard make of car. And the FRANCISCO is guaranteed to deliver more heat than any other heater built. The action of the FRANCISCO is almost instantaneous! The whole car is comfortably warm within a few minutes after the motor is started —even in sub-zero weather! Nothing to rattle. Nothing to get out of order. No upkeep expense of any kind. And the FRANCISCO will outlast the car. The FRANCISCO takes up fresh air back of the fan, warms it over the manifold and delivers it directly into the front of the car. Easily operated register controls and regulates the amount of heat delivered. Ventilates While it Heats The heat which pours into your car in abundant volume almost from the minute the motor is started is clean, pure, fresh-air heat. No exhaust gases can possibly enter the FRANCISCO HEATER. And so positive is its circulation that the air in the car is completely changed every two or three minutes. Improves Carburetion The FRANCISCO greatly increases the efficiency of the motor. Because the FRANCISCO encloses the intake as well as the exhaust manifold of the car, it acts as a “hot-spot”, bringing the motor up to summer efficiency, improving carburetion is the |

aa

"=RANCISCO HEATER installed on Dodge. {_ —_ CISCo ur Makes of Cars. Protected by Basic Patents HEATER

and positively increasing motor efficiency. With both manifolds covered, the FRANCISCO acts as a shutter device, keeping cold air from the intake and mak- ing the motor easier to start. No other heater made performs this important func- tion. The FRANCISCO isthe only heater that completely encloses both intake and exhaust manifolds. The fact that the installation of the FRANCISCO definitely improves motor operation in cold weather has been proved conclusively. Exhaustive tests made by Prof. Jacklin of the Mechanical Engineer- ing Department of the Ohio State Uni versity have demonstrated that in con- tinuous running under actual road condi- tions with a Ford sedan the FRANCISCO HEATER made possible a decrease of 20 in gasoline consumption Even with the remarkably efficient new Holley Manifold for Ford cars, efficiency gains were con clusively demonstrated. See Your Dealer Today— or Write Any garage mechanic can quickly install the FRANCISCO HEATER on your car No changes necessary in any of the work ing parts of the motor and no interference in any way. Insist on the genuine FRANCISCO HEATER which covers the entire manifold. Your de FRANCISCO to fit your car r easily get one for you as FRANCIS ire carried in stock by leadir g autom jobbers everywhe re ler has

THE FRANCISCO AUTO HEATER CoO. Dept. 26, Cleveland and Essex Avenues Francisco Canadian Auto Heater Co., Hamilton, Ont., Canada Columbus, Ohio 1 4 E. Immel You may ser d the FRANCISC<% Name Addre ss

Page 228

4 : nh THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ; Ae s a >. <a ’ , < i \ iA Knit shirts and nainsook drawers for college men—sheer knit suits in athletic models—full length sleeves and legs—Carter makes all styles If underwear were made to your measure... You would get no better fit nor comfort than Carter’s—all fabrics, all styles | Suits, SHIRTS, sHoEs—all made to measure. Then fit is easy. But with knit underwear it’s dif-' ferent, because even the most expert tailor can’t change the fit after the garment is made up. The original Carter’s Union Suits are tailored on living models of all normal types and they just have to fit. No binding at any point, no un- comfortable wrinkles, no bulging That perfect fit is there to stay——it defies long wear and repeated seams. washings. Look for these details snug-fitting cuffs at wrists and ankles, flat seams, military “sag-proof” shoul- ders, roomy seat with special flap, and buttens put on to stay. They mean real com- h fort. The sizes of all Carter's Union Suits are plainly marked on the label. Make sure the clerk measures you from crotch to shoulder. vy y y Ask at the store to see the new lightweight Carter garments. The fabrics are specially designed to give just the right protection to men who work indoors. The William Carter Company, Needham Heights (Bos- ton District), Mass. INDOOR MEN Indoors men need lightweight union suits. Carter makes them as sheer, almost as fine hosiery In cotton, cotton and-wool, rayon and-wool, rayon-and-cotton 4 OUTDOOR MEN Men who work or play outdoors need the protection of medium or thick underwear. Carter’s Union Suits are warm but never heavy. In cotton, cotton-and-wool, and wool Carter's UNION SUITS for Men

| charter as at random from the file of the manager’s desk, showed sales of $62,000 of widely diversified securities on that date. Of these, $8000 were listed under the name of the salesman who conducts the mail-order transactions with Brotherhood members. All the $8000 so sold were first mortgage bonds of the B. of L. E. Realty Company. “That is the particular issue we have just been offering to the membership,” the mail-order manager explained. “They are bonds secured by first mortgages on im- proved property in the Brotherhood’s Flor- ida real-estate development.” That is the high peak reached so far by the locomotive engineers. With capital pouring into Florida from almost every big pool of wealth in America, for the de- velopment of the peninsula’s shores and hinterland and the transportation and hous- ing of the multiplying army of tourists and homeseekers, the Brotherhood was not to be left out of that golden opportunity for profits. The B. of L. E. Realty Company, with $1,000,000 capital stock, held like the rest of its companies, with 51 per cent in the hands of the organization itself and the balance distributed among its membership, bought 25,000 acres of land at Venice, sixty | miles south of Tampa, with a seven-mile | Gulf frontage, and began last year to de- | velop a city on the waterfront and a series of small farm colonies east of the Tamiami | Trail. The double purpose here was, first, | to make profits, and second, to be able to | offer to its members who wanted homes or | farms in Florida, something which could | be guaranteed to them as to price, location and stability. To September, 1926, some- where around $5,000,000 has been invested by the Brotherhood and its members at Venice, most of it underground in extensive drainage, grading and clearing work, some of it in hotels and apartment houses fi- nanced by the bonds bought by the mem- bers of the Brotherhood. The Board of Directors Once the Brotherhood had pointed the way and demonstrated that labor could go into the banking business without inter- ference from big business, other labor banks, now numbering twenty-five, began tospring up. The largest of them all, except the Brotherhood’s Cleveland bank with its $26,760,227 of resources at the end of June, 1926, is the Federation Bank and Trust Company of New York. It was organized in 1924, with representatives of some 250 labor unions scattered all over the United States as stockholders. It now has $750,000 of capital stock, $15,441,485 of deposits and total resources of $17,805,691. Like the Brotherhood’s Cleveland bank, it has a large national savings clientele; and it fol- lows the same general policy of inducing its depositors to invest their savings in indus- trial securities. When the Federation Bank decided to change its form and obtain a trust company, in the spring of 1926, the committee which managed the reorganization included the governor of New York, the mayor of New York City, the president of the American Federation | of Labor, a United States senator, a former candidate for vice president of the United States, the chairman of the Republican Na- tional Committee, the head of one of the largest electrical industries, and others of | comparable importance in business and public affairs, demonstrating the extent to which public confidence had been estab- lished. There are other labor banks, variously | owned by local unions and groups of unions, | in Bakersfield, California, Buffalo, Cin- | cinnati, Great Falls, Montana, Houston, Indianapolis, Jackson, Michigan, Jersey | City, Kansas City, Los Angeles, Newark, | New York, Paterson, Pittsburgh, Rogers- ville, Tennessee, St. Louis, San Bernardino, Three Forks, Montana, Toledo, Tucson and Washington, D. C. Their capitaliza- | tion ranges from $25,000 to $500,000, their resources from under $200,000 to more | than $6,000,000. In Washington, D. C., the November 6, 1926 machinists’ union owns a large part of the $1,000,000 capital stock of the Commercial National Bank, with resources of $17,574,- 720. In the same category are the Union Labor Investment Corporation, with head- quarters in Jersey City and $5,000,000 of capital, and the Dispatchers Investment Company of Chicago, capitalized at $2,500,- 000. The Amalgamated Clothing Workers opened their first bank, in New York City, in 1923. Today the Amalgamated Bank of New York ranks third in size among labor banks, with $7,746,605 of resources, in- cluding its $300,000 capital stock. The Amalgamated Trust and Savings Bank of Chicago is growing at an almost equal rate, and now has $3,484,182 of resources, with $200,000 capital. There we have the amazing picture of labor as capitalist, sitting in the game of high finance with a stack of more than $150,000,000 of the counters with which the game is played, ashare in another $100,000,- 000, and playing the game according to the established rules. Rules That Work That is the most significant phase of it all, the discovery by labor that the rules of business and finance work precisely as well for it as for capital. The idea that big busi- ness always has a few cards up its sleeve, to be used unexpectedly for the discom- fiture of the workingman, is a persistent one and not without its justification in the history of industrial relations. So also is the idea, long widely prevalent among capi- talists, that labor always wants to intro- duce a joker or declare deuces wild or in some other radical way disturb the estab- lished routine which, on the whole, works better than anything else which human in- genuity has devised. Perhaps the reéduca- tion of capital through its experience with labor as banker and financier is after all the most important part of the whole economic revolution. For that, as Professor Carver points out, is what it all comes to—a revo- lution, nothing less, although arrived at so peacefully and so quietly that only an in- significant minority of the whole population knew that it was going on. Part of Lenin’s formula for the economic revolution, Marxian style, was to imprison fifty bankers for three weeks and extort their secrets from them, then abolish the bankers. American labor has discovered that the bankers haven't any secrets, and instead of abolishing them has gone into partnership with them. Perhaps it will come to the same thing in the end. It is hard to determine the precise point at which the worker ceases to be labor and becomes capital. Is it when he gets 51 per cent of his income from the investment of his savings and only 49 per cent from his wages? Then capital becomes labor when- ever its individual owner gets more of his income in the way of salary than he does from his investments. He may continue for a while to regard himself as in a differ- ent class from the wage earner, and the wageworker will doubtless continue, per- haps for another generation or so, to draw an imaginary and increasingly vague line between himself and his nominal employ- ers. But there is no doubt whatever that American labor is headed toward the goal of the control of American industry, not alone in the indirect sense in which its col lective purchasing power already makes it largely the dictator of what industry shall produce, but by such a degree of actual ownership, as shareholder and bonded creditor, as to insure the stability of its own job, to make the pay roll rather than the dividend the first financial objective of business. The road on which labor has started, with its conversion of workers into capitalists, leads definitely in that direc- tion. Unless an at present unthinkable letting down of the immigration bars or some unforeseeable cataclysm blocks the path, that where labor seems bound eventually to arrive.

Page 229

Spartan Radio is built t the manufacturer world-famous Spart j horn born fe

¢ for motor car m manufactur ee by Its n is a logical development of the « pany's quarter-century precist ectricai equipment m- f J \ O A batteries to recharge—no B batteries ng shows the wave length of the station vou desire to run down—no eliminators—just plug Turn the left hand dial to corresponding figure in j THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

‘he S parton I1O AG

t fast ~ in to the regular house lighting circuit and et the right hand opening and the program comes in joy beautiful music and splendid entertainment fol rich and perfect. You can throw away th« uninterrupted tiresome log book, as vour newspapers alway The Sparton 110 ACis truly the ultimate ideal that print exact wave lengths in their daily programs Radio lovers have been longing for. Nothing els« to buy—complete with tubes all ready to enjoy he new feature coupled with the special Sp. : | Lat os } | - method of balanci svoduces the most perfec Two beautiful two-tone walnut five tube models <a Si 3 with the special Sparton balanced circuit and two nOCeps yoany oe } cia a aaeeae i ¢ K IW dial control Tuning the Sparton is as easy as turning a page In all fairness to If see, hear and operate a Simply turn the right hand dial until center opes Sparton befor« | AC Cabinet Model, Price $ . AC Ce ole, Price $ Full line of battery operat dels, $ nd ON RADIO ‘(7 THE PATHFINDER OF THE AIR ip, Se 7

<J THE SPARKS-WITHINGTON COMPANY, JACKSON, MICHIGAN

Page 230

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 IMPERIAL 00 S42 PURE CAMELS HAIR SOHN DAVID NCERSOrR, eo eeee ea ie fe x K PLACA, Imperial Camel Hair Overcoats may also be purchased at the Bi 0 establishment of an authorized PL { th, "4 Stein Bloc h represe ntlative in the . K, principal cities throughout the Jakes wm United States and Great Britain tMTERANATIONALLY RENCWAED WMS AAS PIII RSD < W. N a [D = | eae | PO RNa GN SV ONAN FP ON RNe LSA PAAIBAPA AL AA P x KI YNYN IPDPDDDDIDDITK KK ngs oe i. At home-and abroad, Imperial Camel Hair originated by Stein Bloch, is recognized as the year-round coat of the gentleman . J ¥ . . . . , . Impertal Camel Hair Overcoats are tailored in standard camel hair colors as well as te ; , ; Glens and Overcheckings in two-tone effects.

Page 231

LETTERS OF A SELF-MADE DIPLOMAT TO HIS PRESIDENT (Continued from Page 4) Talk about the Lost Tribe of Israel! Say, they could have been in Russia all this time and never be lost at all, and still no- body would have found them. Now scramble all that together and let somebody think they can diagnose it. Rus- sia is the boarding-house hash of Nations. Hash, Russia and flivvers are three things nobody has ever been able to catalogue the contents. Trying to tell what Russia is is like trying to tell the difference between a Conserv- ative Republican and a Progressive Dem- crat. If you are a visiting Communist, or have Communistic leanings, why, naturally you will write of it from their accomplish- ment point of view, and are liable to—acci- dentally—leave out any little defects you might have seen. Then on the other hand, if you are not the least bit in sympathy with any part of their program, why, you naturally are not liable to let yourself see anything that has any merit in it. So, Boss, if you are look- ing for me to solve the Russian Problem, you are not going to get it done. Now a Congressman could do it in twenty minutes and a Senator in ten, but it stuck me. But I tell you what I am going to do—I am just going to be like a prisoner at the bar when some wise, old good-natured Judge who wants to get the facts asks, “‘ Will you please tell the Court in your own way and your own language just what happened on the entire night of June the twelfth?” Now that’s what I am going to do. I am just going to tell you everything I saw and what happened here in Russia in the last two and a half weeks. Now the first thing I want to do isto dispel one generally popular illusion that every- body has to watch one’s conduct while in Russia. Everybody said: ‘“‘Be very care- ful what you say or do while in there; they have spies and secret police all over the place. Every waiter or servant in the Hotel, they let on they don’t speak En: lish, but they do, and report everything. It’s that G. P. U., or Cheko, the famous secret- service organization of Russia.” Well, they had me so scared that New York third-degree police methods wouldent have got a word from me. If anybody said to me, “It’s a nice day today,’’ I would be afraid even to agree with them. I would just nod my head both ways, kind of a half yes and 50 per cent no. I was as agreeable to everybody as an Insurance Agent before he lands you. Then a lot of friends had said to me, “Oh, you will get many a laugh out of there; I would like to be with you up there.”’ Funny? Say, I was just about the sad- dest looking thing you ever saw. Clare- more, Oklahoma’s, favorite light Comedian was in no jovial mood to derive merriment from an Bolsheviki régime that far away from home. I had seen pictures of long trains wending their way across the Trans Siberian Railway, hauling heavy loads of human freight, when nobody had a return ticket but the Conductor, all perhaps for getting funny with Russia. So if I thought of an alleged Wise Crack, it was immediately stifled before reaching even the thorax. If somebody was going to pull nifties at the expense of the Soviet ltégime, I certainly was not going to be the culprit. The whole system of Communism might have openly appeared to me Cock- eyed and disastrous, but if I thought so, | would have said it to myself. No, come to think about it, I wouldent even have said it to myself. I would have been afraid some thought reader would pick it up. I dident want to do anything or say anything that could be used against me. I wanted to get out in the peaceful way I had got in. I wanted to arrive back home 100 per cent whole this fall, to tell my little wheezes to the dissatisfied agrarian popolation, or what is mistakenly called the Rube Belt. I couldent think of a single Prohibition joke that I thought would get over around a Prison Camp fire on the shores of the Behring Straits. You know, I don’t think there is anything as pitiful or sad as a half-scared Comedian. I looked, | absorbed, but I dident utter. Then for the next popular illusion I was told by everyone, ‘‘Oh, they will take care of you; they will just take you around and show you just what they want you to see You won't be allowed to see anything You will be sheperded around to just all the good-appearing things.” Well, here is the funny part about it: | don’t think there was a soul in Russia that knew I was in there. In fact it kinder hurt my pride when I found nobody was watch- ing me or paying me any attention. You see, it’s so hard to get a Passport in there that I thought when they did give me one I felt kinder like every new Congressman when he first comes to Washington and looks for you and Mrs. Coolidge and the Cabinet and Alice Longworth and Walter Johnson all to meet him at the train. Then he comes and prowls around for a week before anybody but his Landlord knows he is there. In fact some stay there for years and nobody ever knows they are there. Well, that’s the way I felt. ’Course, I dident figure on any public reception. I dident hardly dare to hope for so much as the much-heralded Cossacks to charge and cut the heads off any remaining nobility in Red Square. But I did begin to think if they are going to start showing me about they better be at it. I tell you it was lone- some and humiliating on me. I wanted to hire my own Detective and have him watch me just to keep up the popular tradition. Well, you know yourself how it was when you first come to Washington as Vice Presi- dent. Well, that’s just the reception I had in Russia. Well, I went all over the coun- try; drove out to villages, went to other towns, got on the train and made a night's journey from Moscow to St. Petersburg or Leningrad was the name of it that week—and wasent stopped or asked a ques- tion; and dident even have my passport, as it had been left with the Hotel to give to the Police, as that is their custom. I run onto an old American boy that was working for a big mining concern and he and I looked at everything there was to see, and a lot of things that if they had been very careful they shouldent have let us see. I talked to various Government officials connected with their Foreign Department, and everywhere had the greatest courtesy and consideration. They explained any- thing that I would ask them about the gov- ernment or the country. One thing, though that a Communist can do is explain. You can ask him any question in the world, and if you give him long enough he will explain their angle, and it will sound plausable then. Communism to me is one-third practice and two-thirds explanation. I wanted to go in the Kremlin, the old- time Czars’ Castle and Fort. It’s now where all the Government business is car- ried on. ’Course, you have to have a per- mit, but they gave it to me and in I went They give you a Guide who speaks Eng- lish to take you through. But that was the only place where they furnished me one. Anywhere else I could mess around all over the place. Lenine’s Tomb—the body is just there in a glass case. Well, at the present time you can’t go in there, as they are overhauling or upholstering the whole tomb, or the body, or something. It’s just a little wooden building outside the Kremlin wall. I wanted, of course, there, to see Trotzky to you about him and tell you how he stacked up with Borah and Young La- Follette and Jim Reed and Al Smith and when I went in I wanted to write THE SATURDAY EVENING POST J FLORSHEIM Shoe —-—_-—— WHEN evening shadows fall, the feet which have walked in Florsheims through the day nat- urally maintain their well-bred appearance. The “ADAIR” is a much-admired Florsheim. Patent leather for formal wear. Most Serle sO THE F I Style S-10: ORS HEIM SHOE COM P Manufacturer AN Y * CHICAGO AMERICAN |DEAL RADIATORS BOILERS You cannot improve on nature’s way. IDEAL- AMERICAN hot water heating is like the send- ing of blood thru heart and arteries to keep the body warm. Send for catalog, Buffalo, N. Y. For burning oil, gas, coke or ANY coal. AMERICAN RADIATOR (OMPANY Sales Offices in Principal Cities U. S., Canada & Europe

Page 232

“Would you put your plant over a coal mine ? ‘ You wouldn’t even put your plant close to a mine if it was far from your customers, raw materials and labor supply. You may find that locating in Wilmington gives you the best balance of'all considerations. ~~ Have Wilmington Measured for Your Factory—Free! If you will write and tell us your requirements, our Consultant will make a survey and tell you conservatively what Wilmington has for you. In general, Wilmington offers the following: Railroads— Pennsylvania, Reading, B. & O. Ship Stable Labor Supply—all grades, because this is also by water and motor-trucks. Overnight an attractive town to live in. Prosperity —diver- deliveries to 20°. of America’s population. Free sified industries—some of the world’s largest from the traffic jam of shipping from the big factories in their lines. Fine residential and seaboard cities. business districts. New Marine Terminal. Latest equipment for fast handling of all classes of shipments. Open and covered storage. 16 minutes from city. Power, Fuel, Gas, Pure Water at low rates. Short haul from coal mines and refineries. Special Advantages. Favorable Corporation Laws. No radical legislation. Comfortable Cli- mate. Logical location for branch factories to serve the East, the fast-growing Southeast, coast- wise and foreign markets. Address: Industrial Department, Room 1301, Chamber of Commerce WILMINGTON vy ££ b&b A.W AK: E “The Port of Personal Service” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Sol Bloom and the New York Times man in there, Duranty, who has been there for years and is the best informed man in Rus- sia on their affairs, and a fine congenial little fellow and a godsend to visiting Eng- lish or Americans. Well, Duranty and I went to see a man about seeing Trotzky. A little fellow named Rothstein, who spoke English and used to work on a paper in | England, he has to do with censoring all | that goes out to the Press. I told him the | nature of the visit to Trotzky was to find out just what kind of a Guy he was person- ally; that I dident want any of his state secrets. I just wanted to see did he drink, eat, sleep, laugh and act human, or was his whole life taken up for the betterment of mankind. I told him that anything that I wrote you would not break up the pleasant relations that existed between our two glorious Nations. Mr. Rothstein informed me: ‘We are a very serious people; we do not go in for fun and laughter. In running a large Country like this we have no time for appearing | frivolous. We have a great work to per- | form for the betterment of mankind. We are sober.”’ Well, I explained to him that I dident hardly expect Trotzky to make any faces for me or to turn a few somersaults or tell the one about two Hebrews named Abe and Moe. I tole him that the man must have some very good human qualities, and on account of being in America at one time, he has always been of especial interest to us; more than anyone else in Russia since Lenine’s death. I wanted to tell them that what they needed in their Government was more of a sense of humor and less of a sense | of revenge. | for me X-raying Trotzky. I saw that this old boy wasent so strong But I bet you if I had met him and had a chat with him, | I would have found him a very interesting and human fellow, for I have never yet met a man that I dident like. When you meet people, no matter what opinion you might have formed about them beforehand, why, after you meet them and see their angle and their personality, why, you can see a lot of good in all of them. You know how it is yourself, Boss. I bet you have had Political enemies and you would think from your impressions of them that they ought to be quartered mi the zoo in the | reptile house. Yet when you met them you could see their side and find they wasent so bad, and that you were both trying to get | about the same thing in the long run. Rothstein wants me to stay over one day | longer, and he would have me see Tchitch- | naturally would be the main one. He was the Prime Minister, and But it erin. | was Trotzky I want to see if possible. | conservative for them. These Prime Ministers, they are so sudden that before I can write you about one of them he may be out and be three Ministers removed from his old position. But I found out the real reason I dident get to see Trotzky. Trotzky is not in so good with the present government. It may seem rather funny to some to hear he is too He has his ideas how things should run, as he is one of the old-timers in the party. He got so bad as an opposition that the Party shipped him away off down in the Ural’s to get him out of the way. But he is really strong with the people, and there was such a fuss raised over it that they had to drag him back to | the capital again and create a job for him; | so they made him Minister of Concessions. down in the Caucasian Mountains. i Now, on the face of it, that looks like a pretty soft job, for Russia certainly has lots of concessions to peddle out. But they made it so Red-Tapey that he couldent give out the Vodka-selling privilege at the next Revolution without having it passed by an act of the entire Soviet Council; so it really wasent so much of a job as it appeared on the letterhead. He had charge of the Army for a long time, and built up quite a for- midable gang. The real fellow that is running the whole thing in there is a Bird names Stalin, a great big two-fisted fighting egg from away He is November 6, 1926 the Borah of the Black Sea. He is kinder the Mellon and Butler combined of the Russian administration. He is the stage manager of Bolshevism right now. He don’t hold any great high position himself, but he tells the others what ones they will hold. He has served his term in Siberia under the Czar. Well, Trotzky is kinder not sitting at his round table at lunch. But the Peasants out in the country are still strong for Trotzky. He sees that there must be some changes made in the way they are running things. The Peasants think they have a kick that they are not getting enough for their grain, and Trotzky is sorter siding with them. So he is called a conservative. A Conservative among Communists is a man with a Bomb in only one hand; a Radical is what you would call a Two- Bomb Man. They have one in each hand, and will spit a third one at you if possible. But I saw and talked to lots of them in the Government; also met all the gang that they sent out from America that time with Big Bill Haywood—was going to see old Bill, but he was sick in the Hospital and I couldent get to see him. From what I heard, Bill sho would like to get back among the gang in Chicago. If I was Bill, and had that opportunity of going from Russia to Chicago I would give it serious thought before I would make the change. Met the smartest, brightest old Bolshe fellow in there named George. I don’t know his other name, but you couldent pronounce it if I wrote it. He said he was one of the twenty-two that Judge Landis sent to Leavenworth to break their jump to Russia that time. He is a bright, smart kind of a Duck, but not what I would call a Landis rooter. Met a big nice jovial fellow from Chicago—forgot his name, said he run for President on the Socialist ticket the year Jimmy Cox did. I told him I could faintly remember Jimmy, for he happened to be a good friend of mine; but I couldent remember him. He said he runs pretty near every year on that Ticket said, ‘‘I may run this year.” I told him there was no Presidential election this year unless there was an impeachment. He said, ‘“ Ain’t there? Well, mebbe it’s next year then; I don’t pay much ’tention to what years I am running and what years I am not.” He was feeling pretty good about the whole way things were running in there, and was very enthusiastic about it all; he was strong for em. He had a passport back! I bet if you had stole that passport away from that old Boy you would have just had 284 pounds’ worth of suicide on your hands. The funny part about it among these American ones you meet over there visiting, they are all so nice and friendly and en- thusiastic about it, and believe in it away above our form of government; but they all go back over home. It just looks to me like Communism is such a happy-family affair that not a Communist wants to stay where it is practiced. It’s the only thing they want you to have but keep none them- selves. Well, this continuous Presidential Candidate was a mighty nice fellow, and I would like to see him get into the finals some day, even if he don’t win. Now I know you want to know what about it, and how is it working, and what is it. Well, I am giving it as much study as a Bird like me could give serious study to anything. Before coming in here, I read everything. I read so many of that fellow Marx’s books that I don’t want even to see the Marx Brothers, as clever as they are. I have come to the conclusion that the rea- son there is so many books on Socialism is because it’s the only thing in the world that you can’t explain easy. It’s absolutely im- possible for any Socialist to say anything in a few words. You say, “Is it light or dark?” and it takes him two volumes to answer Yes or No; and then I know there is a catch in it somewhere. It’s like a long Theatrical Contract. If one of them tells be- yond the Salary and the amount of weeks you are to work, why, you might just as (Continued on Page 233

Page 233

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 231 Is Boston really a difficult market ? The Boston Retailer says “NO” His solution of the problem lies in concentrating his advertising upon a 12-mile shopping area wr do so many manufacturers regard Boston as a difficult ad vertising market ? Why do Boston retailers find that same market no more difficult than other retailers find other cities? The Globe decided to find the answer to these questions. Uf r ’ Investigation showed that most nationally known manufacturers think of Boston as a city with a 3o-mile trading radius. But within this 30-mile trading radius, com- monly accepted as the Boston market, are five cities that are entities in themselves. When the Globe interviewed Boston. de- partment stores it developed that 64% of the charge accounts 1n One most represent ative store and 74% of its package de- liveries are confined to an area within 12 miles of City Hall. This was further veri fied by the Parcel Delivery Clearing House which delivers parcels for all the depart- ment stores. In this 12-mile area— Boston’s real trad lies 1,567,257 population, with a In this ing area per capita wealth of nearly $2,000. culation—and the sale of the week-davs exceeds that of Sunday. the great department stores first. : stores place as much lineage as they use in all other Sunday papers combined. And during 1925 Globe carried more department store adver- tising than any other daily paper. tisers in the Globe get a uniform seven day concentration upon Boston’s key market. people of Boston 1s due solely to its edi- torial and news merit. partisan. And the Globe’s features inter est every member of the family. on this page. See how the Globe leads in this key market. Note the figures on dis tributing outlets. first in Boston. 12-mile area is the largest number of retail outlets in most lines, and nearly all th re tail leaders. 1 N this key market of Boston the Sunday Globe delivers the largest newspaper cir | Globe on That 1s why Boston retailers especially buy the Globe In the Sunday Globe Boston’s great and 1926 to date) the daily Adv er The Globe's great strength among the It is strictly non- Study the map of Boston’s key market Then buy the Globe package deliveries charge accounts 61% of all grocery stores a Here the Sunday Globe newspaper. The Globe conce 64% of all department store lve Taking a 30-mile radius as Boston’s extreme trading limit the 12-mile 74% of all department store 34,367 more copies than the next Boston Sunday ntrates in this area—199,392 daily—176,479 Sunday / area contains— 60% of all hardware stores aol 57% of all drug stores 57% of all dry goods stores y 55% of all furniture stores Ar|exing yoy) i 46% of all auto dealers and garages f Wise \\\ Joe | / May we send you this interesting booklet? It you consider Boston really a difficult market you will be interested in our new booklet—“‘Looking at New England Through the Eyes of the Sales and Advertising Manager.” We will be glad to send you a copy on request. \ - Total Net Paid Circulation _ Daily 280,159—Sunday 332,282 The Boston Globe -_: CThe Globe sells Boston. it ea " /

Page 234

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926

So when the Big B roadcasting Station of the Calumet Baking Powder Co. and “‘Rainbo ails? Chicago, wanted to Judge the quality of duie own broadcast, they installed a

OH would you like to own the radio receiver the great broad- *Among the great Broadcasting Stations who casting stations use in their listening rooms to judge the quality authorize us . say that they use Day-Fan - . . - . . : é Receivers in their li ing rooms to test tone of their own programs? What tone it must have, to do justice to the aloes 7 ‘ > j < ; : say ; : quality and clearness of peceplen are music of their great artists! What selectivity, to tune out a station in W™MCA, New York (Hotel McAlpin) ; WEBJ, the same building, and listen to others far away for purposes of com- New York (Third Avenue Railway System ; ; zs : : : / W QJ, Chicago (Calumet Baking Powder Co parison! You can have this receiver in your own home. & Rainbo Gardens); WLIB, Chicago (Liberty — 2 £ : . - + : Magazine); WNAC, Boston (The Shepard This final and nation-wide approval of the Day-Fan Radio crowns Stores): WTAM. Cleveland (Willard Storage the record of the receiver which was first to perfect single dial control, Bomsty Co teens enim per e - " . 4 “ 9 r aer Co.); , Minneapolis and St. Paul first to find all stations at their newspaper numbers, first to publish Gakt thebit Bodie Stainn. Weshhos its own Air Telephone Directory, and which now meets your every eg mae Shy Ind riek ocec oO 4 ‘ t ayne I need with five, six, and seven-tube sets from $89 to $250.00. (Main Auto Supply Co.); WOAW, On . Neb a odmen of the World Life Inst Judge Day-Fan, not as a radio, but as a great musical instrument. Ass'n): WAAW, Omaha, Neb. (Omaha Grain tee eat ; WEAN, Providence (The Shep- Z ard Co.); WCAL, Ne ai field Minn o- —— Olaf ¢ ollege K WSC, Pullman, Wash State College of Washington WCBD, Zion, Ill. (Zion Broa casting Station

Your name and address on a post- card (address Dept. P. 4, Day-Fan Electric Co., Dayton, Ohio) or on

the coupon line below will bring you full information and name of near- est Day-Fan Dealer.

Address

Page 235

Continued from Page 230) weil light a cigarette with it. More words ain’t good for anything in the world only to bring on more argument. If Socialists worked as much as they talked, they would be the most prosperous style of Government in the World. But the thing is they don’t know anything about it themselves. There is not two of them in the world with the same idea of what it is. They say, “All we want is somebody to come in and see with an open mind.”’ Well, if ever a Guy went into Russia with an open mind it was me. It was not only open but it verged on being empty. Lord, if 130,- 000,000 people that never had it any too soft in their lives are trying to work out a way to better their condition, why, it ain't for a yap like me to come along and tell them that they are all wrong. You know, I dident have to go to Russia to find comedy or chaos in Governments. If I was looking for governments that wasent just exactly hitting on all six, why, I left one and went through a dozen more going to Russia, so anybody better not start heaving too many rocks at Russia’s government—I don’t care which country you come from—till you have looked your own over. Liberty don’t work as good in practice as it does in Speech. You got to figure that bunch of fellows are playing with the big- gest Toy in the world. They are like a poor old Farmer or Rancher out home in Okla- homa that has a bunch of Kids, and they have never had anything to play with in their lives but an old hound pup; and then Dad strikes Oil, is paid a big bonus, and wanting to do something for his Gang, goes to Tulsa and gets them all the mechanical toys of every description in the world and hands them to them to play with. Well, that is what somebody has slipped these soviet fellows. They have had an electric train thrust into their hands and they had never pulled the string on even a jumping jack before, and they are naturally going to have a lot of short circuits and burned fin- gers before they get the thing started. Cesar and Nero and that bunch of boys that got credit for steam-roller measures through the Roman senate were playing county politics compared to these Babies. The whole Roman Empire, in its balmiest days—and it had some balmy days—that little Minor-League Empire would have got so lost in Russia that Columbus, De Soto and Lewis and Clark couldent have found it. Now handing this bunch of fellows Rus- sia would just be like Judge Gary coming backstage at the Follies and saying, “‘ Here, Will, you and the Girls take over the Steel Corporation and run it.’’ Now you have to have some kind of training to handle something big or else you have to do a lot of practicing on it after you get in, which is generally pretty expensive. Most of these fellows were on little Communist News- papers. Now America has withstood some pretty rough handling at times, but I sure would hate to see it fall under the management of a troop of our Dissatisfied Newspaper men. Put it in the hands of an old hard- headed Farmer or a small-town Merchant, but deliver it from Editors. They would have more Theories how to run us than the Communists. So you got to give these fellows a little bit of the benefit of the doubt. They are practicing and are trying to do the best they can, but unfortunately they are practicing on 130,000,000 people that have to remain the horrible example till these Guys find out themselves just what it’s all about. ‘Course, it won't be such a terrible dis- grace—on them—if they don’t make it, for there is Nations with men trained from childhood in government that looks like they were getting practiced on. It’s just tough on the people, that’s all, It’s no dis- grace not to be able torun a country nowa- days, but it is a disgrace to keep on trying when you know you can’t. look pretty bad there. and the ‘Course, things You see, this is '26 war started in ‘14. That means THE SATURDAY twelve years that trains, street cars, Public Buildings, and in fact everything, has not had a thing done to it since the day the Czar’s forces marched off to fight Germany; no painting, nostreets fixed up to amount to anything. Most of the streets are, however, kept clean. You see a great deal of poverty among the people along the streets, a great many ragged little children begging. *Course, you can see these things in lots of cities besides Russian ones, but it’s worse in there. I never saw a pair of silk stockings on a single lady on the street. Everything is very expensive. Most all the manufactured things have to be imported, as their fac- tories, very few of them are operating. The Factories are there, but the machinery all rusted and spoiled in all these years of no usage; and they have to get in new ma- chinery, and it lot of money to reéquip all those. Food things shouldent be so high, for they raise everything in the world up there; but it seems to cost them a lot to handle it through the stores. They have these coéperative stores; in fact everything is supposed to belong to the government, but they are changing now and allowing private ownership and cutting prices over each other. You the Communism that they started out with, the idea that everybody would get the same and have the same Lord, that dident work at all. That has all been changed—the idea that the fellow that was managing the bank was to get no more than the man that swept it out. That talked well to a crowd, but they got no more of that now than we have. I don’t suppose there is two men in Russia getting exactly the same salary. They get what they can get, and where they can get it. When the government runs anything, as they do prac- tically everything over there, there is al- ways about twice or three times as many working in the place as would be found in private enterprises. During these hard times they have had so much dishonesty among the people work- ing where they could get their hands on any money that it takes about two to watch one, and then four others to watch those two. There is also an awful lot of unem- ployment. Taxes are very high. They ceeded in stabilizing their money—that is, inside the Soviet Union. The Ruble worth 50 cents, which is the par value of it. The Chervonetz, or sort of a little pocket Chevrolet, is worth just about five dollars, and compares with the English pound. Right after the Revolution, when they were operating their money like a lot of these Countries over here do, on just a Printing-Press basis, why, they had boot- leg money-makers just like they do over home with—alleged— booze. If you needed any money, you would go to your Cur- rency Bootlegger and buy it. Each one claimed to make Nothing but Prewar stuff. Now they got it stabilized, but it’s up so high nobody can get any of it. I asked an official of their Foreign Office how they maintained it at standard, and he said: ‘‘We balance our budget. We esti- 1S costs a see, have suc- is mate how much will come in during the year | and don't spend any more than that. We make our exports and imports balance, and that is one reason we cannot bring in as many things as we would like to.”’ But another very prominent man who had been in there off and on for years, do- ing a big business in there, said: ‘* They originally started out with a bunch of Gold that they inherited from the original Gov- ernment, and what they had confiscated from various ones during and after the Revolution, and they took that to Eng- land and borrowed its equivalent in money on a loan against the gold. Well, they took this money and come back home and issued more currency against what they had brought from England, saying, ‘It’s all backed by our gold reserve.’ issue another batch against the last one, just pyramiding, all backed up by this original that was in hock to England. But anyhow, they have kept it steady, and you They would | EVENING POST "A dangerous practice—home corn- | paring,” rarns the chiropodist “Lots of men th ‘ ( f th | | can use i Bh *jay ort t i 2° | they are Blu ‘ wn cort 1 = miz the safe tific i t Dr. Le way f J NICK : | i) j i] l known « e it i Didt | i] ous a Pp ictice Cor iring at A | iH 1 fl | home really is, they would never ‘ | | attempt it, but instead go to tl 4) - I chiropodist for treatment I H Shou you want to end a | iH I | i} " = i iI —s ; || i 4 q ; : \| THE SAFE AND GENTLE WAY TO ENI 1 CORN | ive prob, another, Dlow.g Bly us yd Sught t to tely the 6) at they have “Sm Ps chance® oS tan ¢ of getting 26> mileage if Hf use Fehon” 4 ey The ed e Wait see 9 for the Ly \ Yon ES on, Being t © Loo} Ses hungry, 84% SAY MICHELIN TIRES ARE BEST ¥& THis STATEMENT IS BASED ON FACTS. WE PICKED AT RANDOM 1500 MOTORISTS WHO WERE TESTING MICHELIN TIRES. 84% SAID THEIR TESTS PROVED THESE TIRES BETTER THAN ANY OTHERS. MICHELIN=—THE WORLD'S FIRST PNEUMATIC AUTO TIRE—1690 AND “OW

Page 236

Sa ¢ ~ FLORSHEI FEETURE ARCH Walking with Florsheim Feeture Arch Shoes is a real pleasure >) —they support the arch and improve your stride. As light and Ae} flexible on your feet as a regular style—with greater comfort. Compination No. 17 ~ Style 8-167 - $11 THe FrorsHEIM SHOE COMPANY Manufacturers - CHICAGO THE SATURDAY THE CITY THAT NEVER STOPS Not even the severest hurricane that ever struck the United States mainland stopped this Magic City. Before the wind ceased blowing the work of relieving the injured began and in the days and nights following, the spirit which built this amaz- ing city, manifested itself in reconstruction without parallel in speed and efficiency Mayor E. C. Romfh of Miami in an official statement made September 24th, six days after the storm, following a thor- ough inventory of the damage, declared: Of the 150 hotels in Miami, Miami Beach and Coral Gables 75 per cent were not damaged to any great extent. The year around hotels are operating as usual. Of the 1200 apartment houses, 70 per cent received little damage. All hotels and apartment houses will be completely repaired and put in first class condition within 60 days. I want to give positive assurance that our friends will find Miami this winter the same enjoyable, hospitable, comfortable vacation city it has always been.” The ** Comeback" to normal has even been faster than pre- dicted. The greatest entertainment program any resort ever planned will be carried through without change. Eleven sporty golf courses, with many tournaments; horse racing on a million dollar track; thrillin dog races; exciting Spanish Jai-Alai contests; Surf bathing daily, or your choice of pools in magnificent casinos 1200 miles of smooth, dustless motor roads Game fishing, motor-boating. yachting, horseback riding, tennis, polo PRYOR’S BAND— Daily Concerts in Royal Palm Park Millions of Dollars have been spent this summer in improved motor highways Direct de luxe trains to Miami from New York, Chicago and Detroit. Through Pullmane from all principal northern cities Speedy ocean. voyage in the finest coastwise steamship service in the world direct from New York, Philadelphia and Baltimore. HOTEL RATES— 22,000 rooms Single $3, $4, $5, $0, 88 per day Double $5, $6, $8, $10, $12, $14 per day. Many rooms at lower prices These rates guaranteed by Greater Miami Hotel Association APARTMENTS— For 6 mo. season 2400* unit T™. at $600 and under 50 pet day or leas per person sors) at $600 to $750 © mor at $750 ¢t $900 r at $900 to $1200 e $1200 to $3500 eed Dy Greater Miami n m, kitchenette and bath, rooms for housekeeping 4 a A For handsome illustrated booklet address— CHAMBER OF COMMERCE, MIAMI, FLORIDA This advertisement authorized by City Commissioners of Miamé EVENING POST don’t have to read the papers every day to see what you have.” Of course, anyone going in will ask, ‘Is it working? Is everybody happy?” Well, they are not. Over 90 per cent of the pop- ulation in Russia are farmers, and live out in the country and Villages. The Revolution was to get the Peasant the land. They took all the land and everything that the rich or even fairly prosperous had away from them, and it’s owned by the Government. They give it to the Peasant, but it’s only his as long as he lives on it and tends it. He can’t trade it off or sell it. The real deed to the land is held by the Government. *Course, that beat the old way of being under the thumb of the Landlord. But now that the Peasant owns it, he has to pay the taxes on it. Before, it was the Land- lord had to pay them. So the difference in what he pays the Government and what | he paid the Landlord is so little that he | can’t hardly see where he comes in to be much better off. But that is not the real and the serious | trouble there. It is this: The Government tells the farmer what he shall get for his products— based, of course, on the market value at that time. Well, he is not kicking | so much on that as he is on this: When he sells his grain, he can’t take the money and go buy what he needs. He can’t buy his plows and his wagons and his harness and many other things that has to be made by a factory. They cost him more than his | grain brought him; and if he did happen to have enough, then the things are not to be | found to buy. They have to import most of them and the cost to the farmer is tre- mendous. So what does the old Farmer do? He won't sell them the stuff. The Russian Peasant may be Illiterate, but he is not what you would call Dumb. He knows something about this Guy Marx’s | theories himself. He knows what’s the use | raising anything if you can’t trade it or sell | it for what you want. So he is just raising for his own use. And living on what he raises. If he does raise more, when they say, ‘You have so much wheat here; you must sell that,” he illiterately replies, “‘ No, I eat that. My family very big bread eat- ers, eat lots of wheat. I have none for sale.”’ Sometimes he hides it; but, anyhow, he is | not selling it, and that has got the whole Communistic Party about cuckoo right at this minute. Their problem is to satisfy him. They have to get him some stuff in | there cheaper than they can afford to, or make it, or pay more for his grain than they can get for it in outside world markets. Somebody is going to lose some money on the thing, and it ain’t going to be old November 6,1926 Mr. Peasant. Hecanset and live on just ex- actly what he raises. But the old Boys in town has got to get enough nourishment from what the farmer raises to make those brotherhood-of-man speeches on. The old farmer just grinds his extra up into Vodka, lays in a lot of wood and hibernates for the winter. If you got that Vodka for a companion you got a mighty ally on your side when it come to forgetting your troubles. The old Peas- ant has gone through many of these same winters. He knows it’s not going to make much difference with him who is in. You see, there is only 600,000 Communists in the whole of Russia, and they are ruling over the other 130,000,000. So this 600,000 have got to figure out some way to sorter half satisfy this small minority. You know how it is yourself, Mr. Cool- idge. Those Pheasants out in the West and Middle West are either hollering for higher prices for their grain or cheaper prices for flivver parts, phonograph records, Crystal sets, cheaper movie admission and Govern- ment instruction in Black-bottom dance steps. So, you see, Russia’s problem is about your problem, only Russians can get along without all these necessities. They can live on what they raise, and drink the surplus and enjoy it. But you have got to supply your pheasants with these essentials, for they can vote and the Russians can’t they can vote, but they can’t get them counted. So, after all, the world is just about the same whether it be on the banks of the Vulgar or the Potomac. So we are not ina position hardly to blame the Communists for not finding a solution when we pay 600 men $10,000 apiece a year and they can’t find out. So, as I said before, I dident have to go to Russia to find humor in Government. Now there is just an awful lot of things in there that I want to tell you about yet. But I better split it up in another letter in case those G. P. U., or Cheko, police land this one. Too much information in one dose, that Cabinet of yours couldent digest it. I want to tell you about a trip to Lenin- grad, the Czars’ Palaces, the Red Army Religion—they are telling people over here what to think and what not to think religiously, just reminds me of over home the Museums, Schools, Playgrounds, and oh, lots of things. But you got more in here now than you will remember. Well, regards. Your devoted Chateau in Europe. COLONEL ROGERS. Editor’s Note—This is the ninth of a series of articles by Mr. Rogers. The next will appear in an early issue. THE QUALITY OF JUSTICE (Continued from Page 50) then the onerable Amos Tuck asted him if the italian man did ennything elce and Beanys father said no. then the onerable Amos Tuck asted him if themunky screemed with pane and Beanys father sed he chit- tered like a red squirril and evrybody laffed and the Jug pounded on the table and glore round at them. then the onerable Amos Tuck sed well mister officer, whitch was Beanys father you know, if you complaned that this man did 12 things to this munky and now you say he only done 1 thing to him then you must agree that this whole thing is only 1-12th as serius as you sed in your com- plant and Beanys father scrached his head and sed that was so. gosh i gess there aint mutch chanct to get our munky. then Gimmy Josie whitch was with Mike Prescott befoar he was threw out, gumped up and hollered bully boy with the glass ey, you had him where the hair was short, and the Jug ordered the polisemen to arest him and put him in the lockup and old Mad and old Misery grabbed him and throwed him out and took him to the lockup. then Mister Wood, Pile Woods father, had sum other men to tell about it and he and the Onerable Amos Tuck kep jawing and stopping them and reading from law books and waiving their arms and hollering at eech other and evry minit it seamed as if they wood fite. evry time mister Wood, Pile Woods father, wood say ennything the onerable Amos Tuck snore at him and the moar Mister Wood, Pile Woods father, told him not to sneer at him the moar he snore. i dont think he had augt to be aloud to sneer like that. if it keeps up we wont get our munky and our hand organ. then when mister Wood, Pile Woods father, had got throug with his testifyers the onerable Amos Tuck stood up and be- gun his speach. then Mike and Gimmy which were in the lockup under the hall begun to sing when Jonnie comes marching home again hooray hooray as loud as they cood in 2 diferent keys. and jest befoar the battle mother and i am a raw recruit with a bran new suit, only they called a dam new suit. well the onerable Amos Tuck begun to laff and stoped his speech and evrybody laffed and the jug banged the table and hollered silence and then he sent old Misery and old Mad Sleeper down stares to maik (Continued on Page 237) it, ie

Page 237

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST RADIATOR- ( ;lycerine ANTI-FREEZE SOLUTION e anti-freeze that wont evaporate AB LYCERINFE €s nol evapo low zero. And even where the ther mometer occasionally drops below this, it is still safe for it does not freeze sud A remarkable property of Radiator Glycerine The sun “drawing water” was a stand- ard picture in the old-time text book. Most liquids are quickly taken up by the air. Radiator Glycerine is an exception. The laboratory says it will not evaporate, so that when properly used for automobile radiator anti-freezesolutions, itneverneeds replacement if kept from leaking away. (See instructions below.) denly and destructively as water does but gradually congeals without doing to vour car any mechanical injury Then, too, it will make yvour motor run better. Glycerine’s boiling point is slightly higher than that of wate which permits higher, more efficient operating temperatures than with more volatile solutions, without danger of SET a dish of glycerine in the open and it overheating. \J will never evaporate. Properly combine : , glycerine with water and the solution will not Economical freeze even at low winter temperatures. be ready for the first cold snap when it comes. Naturally it is economical to use Radiator These properties of glycerine are a boon to Bland and harmless, glycerine is often used — Glycerine because you don’t have to keep on the motorist who faces cold winter driving, 1 the foods you eat. It will not attack metal — replacing it if your cooling system does not with the risk of freezing his car during long or rubber and even if , —— waste it by leakage or over- waits in the open or during long nights in a — spilledonthenew type | flow. Just be sure your cooling cold garage. lacquer motor car fin- | system is glycerine-tight— not A single treatment of Radiator Glycerine — ishes it may be wiped | just water-tight. This is an in a glycerine-tight car (see instructions be- off without injury. It | | easy job for your garageman low) means continuous protection against is non-poisonous and | Radiator Glycerine solutions freezing throughout the winter because glycer- free from objection- circulate freely in all types of ine will not evaporate. On warm days there able odor. cooling systems. Automotive is no steaming out or loss of glycerine, no S | y | engineers have recognized thei: weakening of its protection. afe Pa value and used them long be- Some motorists leave it in the radiator Radiator Glycer- -——— —— ————— fore their many advantages all the year ‘round. You can put it in ine solutions will protect your car against were pointed out in a bulletin issued by the early in the season without fear of loss and _ freezing at temperatures as low as thirty be U.S. Bureau of Standards. | READ THESE SIMPLE INSTRUCTIONS leaks. Your garageman ‘This allows the solution to expand without over can easily flush all dirt flowing when heated up. —so that you won’t lose ‘ ‘ and sediment from the Remember only leakage or overflow can im Radiator Glycerine cooling system, tighten pair the permanence of glycerine’s protection hose connections, cy lin No replacement for evaporation Is necessa from your Motor Car der head gaskets. and except an occasional replenishment of the = in the solution as in summer. You can pre] ‘ ‘ | cooling system ot : pump packing so there Pc oy weg gp can be absolutely no ilycerine be sure the cooling for cold weather with it in advance without f of loss by evaporation. Although the permanence of Radiator Glycer- question that the sys- . i . = ‘ system is glycerine-tight— not . ; Use only pure distilled radiator g! ine makes it cheaper in the long run, its first cost just water-tight. This is an tem is leak proof. ti “} Pi to» ter o veliehl = ete h: th ai f th op ti “a . a ; easy job hoe mony naracenes 4] " _ ions voucher Or »V a rellab 1 is greater t ian that of other anti-freeze agents, asi so don waste sure your car is carefully ser nds so it is of prime importance to prevent its waste. glycerine through the overflow pipe inside the — to the instructions. You can then drive your ec: \bove all, be sure the cooling system is tight. radiator. Never fill radiator higher than within in all kinds of weather free f: ove! Remember glycerine takes advantage of minor — 3 inches of the top of this pipe (Fords 4 inches). — the possibility of a froze1 THE GLYCERINE PRODUCERS ASSOCIATION QO! AMERICA 120 WEST 82nbo STREET v1 O82 & ‘Chav

Page 238

SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 100 million feet of Southern Pine in Concrete Forms at Muscle Shoals T2OR nine-tenths of a mile across the valley of the Tennessee, the JL‘ dam at Muscle Shoals towers more than a hundred feet above the workmen in the river bed below. Into forms constructed entirely of Southern Pine, have been poured a million and a quarter cubic yards of concrete. Here, where millions of dollars are involved, where perfection only would mean future efficiency, every foot of the concrete forms was built of Southern Pine—5000 car loads of Southern Pine. No chances could be taken with the wood that might yield under the load, that might buckle or warp in the moisture, that could not be fabricated into forms sometimes approaching the accuracy of pattern work. Thus once again, in its hundred years of dominance as the supreme structural wood of the world, Southern Pine proved its right to that title. In centuries to come this dominance will be unthreatened. Millions upon millions of trees grow bigger and stronger every year in the wonderful climate of the south. The finest Southern Pine our mills ever produced is now available at any lumber yard east of the Rockies. You can tell Southern Pine by its trade- mark. You can judge it by its grade-mark. Whether you plan factory, power plant or home, you should have a copy of the booklet, Southern Pine—What It Is—What It Is Used For This book discusses the stresses and strains to which the wood in your structure may be subjected. It recommends correct uses of Southern Pine. It is a recent publication and it is free. Send for it. Build right—and know you are right. Special Notice For engineers, contractors, architects and others especially interested in Southern Pine for concrete forms, a new booklet is being prepared. It will be sent, when completed, to those who ask for it. * These letters at the right of “SPA” identify the grade. The designation here is one of 18 grade-marks appearing on lumber from Southern Pine Association mills, Southern Pine Association oe 136 Interstate Building ' eS NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA _ Southern Pine—The Supreme Structural Wood of the World

Page 239

(Continued from Page 234 Mike and Gimmy shet up and they went down and Mike and Gimmy shet up. i hoap they will keep quiet becaus if evrybody gets laffing the Jug will let the italian man go and we will lose our munky and our hand organ. then the onerable Amos Tuck sed the italian man was a hard wirker and if evry- body dident think so he had better try to lug a hand organ 30 or 40 miles a day and he wood find out. and he had a perfect rite to keep a munky and he wasent obliged .v be bit or knawed or scrached or et by it and it was not only his rite but his duty to maik his munky mind and to whip him. jest as mutch rite as enny farmer had to whip a kicking or biting horse or to put a curb bit on a runaway horse or to jab a ox goad with a brad in it into a yoke of oxen to maik them pull a lode. then he called old John Sullivan the hos- ler and old Harrison Rundlett and doctor Rowe to show that what he sed was true. well he wood ask them questions first 2nd then Mister Wood, Pile Woods father, wood holler and the lawyers wood holler and read from books and sumtimes they wood sass eech other until the Jug wood rap on the table and stop them. well onct when they was doing this sum feller in the crowd hol- lered taik him Tige, sick him Bose and then he yelped like a dog. well the Jug pounded the table and told the polisemen to arest that man. well they hunted and nobody gnew whitch feller sed it. so bimeby they grabbed 2 or 3 stewd cats whitch hadent enny biziness to be there and throwed them out. then the lawyers went at it again and this time they was asking old Francis sum ques- tions and they went for him baldheaded whitch pleezed me and Pewt and Beany and all the other fellers. this was the ferst time sumbody elce besides old Francis had sumthing to say. and one time mister Wood, Pile Woods father, told him to anser questions and not maik a speech and shet him up pretty quick. well when mister Wood, Pile Woods father, and the onerable Amos Tuck was saling into eech other good and the Jug had stoped them Gimmy Josies voice come up throug the register and sed shay, fellers, if you are a going to fite why in hel dont you fite and not talk so mutch about it. so down went old Mad and old Misery to give him a bat on the head and maik him shet up. i hoap they hit him a good whang in the head. well it was noon time and the Jug sed we will adjirn for dinner, then the onerable Amos Tuck gave Beanys father sum money to get the italian sum dinner. a good menny brougt their dinners and et them in the hall and the onerable Amos Tuck and Mister Wood, Pile Woods father, went up to Hirveys resturant talking and laffing to- gether jest like the best of frends and call- ing eech other Alvy and Amos. me and Beany asted Beanys father if he thougt the italian man wood be sent to jale and he sed he dident like the way things was going. well after dinner evrybody went rite into the hall and set down and at 1 oh clock the Jug came in and banged on the table and hollered coart is setting and then he set down befoar ennybody cood call him a liar because he wasent sitting when he was standing, now was he. i gess the onerable Amos Tuck notised it becaus he and Mr. Wood, Pile Woods father, smiled at eech other. then the onerable Amos Tuck called doc- tor Augustus Bickford and old Gus Bick- ford stood up and held up his oa and swore. then the onerable Amos Tuck asted him a lot of questions slow and distinck. where do you live. answer, Stratham. question, are you a vetering sirgion. answer, i be. If he had lerned grammer like me he wood have gnew better then to say i be. question, what sort of animils have you treeted. anser most evry- thing from a sick kitten to a 7 foot ox. question, have you had enny xperience with vicius annimals. anser, lots of xperience. question, have you had enny xperience anser, i have. question, are anser, not verry, but you question, with munkys. munkys vicious. cant tell jest what a munky will do. ques- tion, is a large animil moar dangerous than a small one. anser, no, not always. ques- tion, give a xample. anser, a 4 year old bull is most always dangerus and you sumtimes have to clime a tree to escaip but a rattle- snaik is always dangerous and if he bites you you always clime the golden stares. there aint no getting out of it. question, if a munky bit you what wood you do. answer, lst i wood lick him until he had enuf, then i wood drink a glass of whisky. then i wood birn out the bite with lye and then drink 2 or 3 moar glases of whisky. and evrybody laffed and the Jug banged the table. question, is the bite of a munky dangerus. anser, yes. question, what is the danger. anser, wel] the wirst that can happen is to have hydrophoby and there aint no cure for that. then if the munky come from Asia you may get asiatic cholery and die. if he came from the south part of Africy you may get gungle feever. if he came from Chiny you may get lep- rusy. question, in your xperience have you found ennything for these dizeezes. anser, there aint no cure for hydrophoby, and only one for the others. question, what is that. anser, a drink of old Rufe Cuttlers rum. gosh it looks bad for me and Beany and Pewt. I have almost gave up hoap. then evrybody laffed even the Jug and when they stoped laffing the onerable Amos Tuck told Mister Wood, Pile Woods father, he cood ask him questions. so mister Wood, Pile Woods father, only asted him a few questions whitch i have rote down jest as he asted him and the ansers two. question, you say doctor Bickford that the dizeazes you get from the bite of a munky depend upon the country he came from, do you. anser, yes sir, ido. question, and if it came from Asia you may get Asiatic cholery. anser, yes sir. question, and if it come from Africa, you may get African Gungle fever. anser, yes sir. question, and if it come from China you may get chinese leprusy. anser, yes sir. question, then if that is the case and the munky whitch bit you came from India you might have a verry serius attack of Indian mutiny. anser, yes sir, and you probly wood. question, and you might die of it. anser, yes sir, you probly wood die. i gess mister Wood, Pile Woods father, got the best of old Gus this time. then mister Wood, Pile Woods father, sed that is all and then evrybody begun to laff and stamp and shout and the onerable Amos Tuck throwed his head back and laffed the loudest of ennyone to see how old Gus had got caugt and the Jug laffed two. then mister Wood, Pile Woods father, called old Gus back and sed you spoke of drinking several glasses of whisky, mister Bickford, you dont mind that do you. an- ser, no, sir, i am willing to taik a glass. question, and you woodent mind having a glass after this case over, wood you. anser, i wood be very mutch pleased Squire Wood. i thank you verry mutch sir. i will wate round for you. then evrybody laffed as loud as they cood and mister Wood, Pile Woods father, got the wirst of it that time, but he laffed jest like the onerable Amos Tuck laffed when he got the wirst of it. then the Jug whitch had laffed hollered silence and banged the table and then mister Wood, Pile Woods father asted old Nick Tattersall what sort of blows the italian give the munky and old Nick sed he gie im a graidly clout wi a stick. an he asted Jonny Lord whitch saw it what the italian did and Jonny sed he give him 3 or 4 ungodly welts with a stick. then the onerable Amos Tuck asted them what they wood do if a pett dog bit them and Jonny sed he wood whale hel out of him and Nick sed he wood fix im so e wood na do it mair and the onerable Amos Tuck sed i thougt so, that is all thank you gentlemen. gosh evry time mister Wood, Pile Woods father, gets in a good one the onerable Amos Tuck gives him a good one back. then there was no moar testifyers and the Jug sed perseed with your argiments gen- tlemen and the one Amos Tuck got up is rable THE SATURDAY EVENING POST / we A\ \ i, . . Ware | + } ~ » Aw Aw ff 4 ‘ i ~ Ze e —O PEDAL PANTS keep outthe cold “ . ene ps - » / Nie Pedal Pants. Don't let winter's icy winds go whizzing up the open spaces around the pedals and brake levers! N‘*x is the time to equip your car with Rie In just two minutes—without a tool—this dura- ble, practical rubber protector can be slipped into place. Its base is hidden under your floor mat; its sleeves fit snugly over the pedals and levers, closing all the openings. No chance for cold, heat, water or dust to seep in, yet no inter- ference with pedal operation Rie Nie Pedal Pants will give you a new idea of winter driving comfort If your dealer cannot supply you, send dealer's name and money direct to us, specifying make and year of car. Use the coupon! $1.25 for Ford Cars; $1.50 for the follow- ing: Chevrolet, Star, Overland 4, Overland 6, Whippet, Pontiac, Oakland, Dodge. DURKEE-ATWOOD CO. Minneapolis, Minn Will He B Hundreds of our workers will en- joy $50.00 or more ‘ (USE THIS } | PD) COUPON Iam enclosing $ for which please send me Rie Nic i Pedal Pants for Car Year Name Address Dealer's Nam ring $50.0 for YOU Christmas? may murmur, minute— ask us— details of three sure ways t« warding the renewals of your locality for The Saturday Evening Post, The Country Gentleman new subscriptions, the orders of fol of the question above you ““No such luck.”” But wait a it may easily be true! If you will b today —we will promptly send you ful ofit: (1) F peel *nt readers i The Ladies’ Home Journal at (2) sex and (3) ks who uring accepting desire to se subscriptions as Christmas gifts No Experience Necessary If we could get together and t this over, we joubtless quickly convince you how easily you may win an extra $50.00 between now and Christmas, but time is short. So take the first step by mailing the coupon SOS Ss SS BS Oe ee SS ee SB a S| THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY i 648 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ) , Please send to me by first class mail everything I'll need to make an extra fifty g before Christmas. N 1 ¢ Y Name Age R f Street ir City State f e a PF EST I LER ASS,

Page 240

238 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Keeps Your Hair Neat— ‘Kich-looking and Orderly F your hair lacks natural gloss and ] lustre, or is difficult to keep in place, itis asy to give it that rich, glossy, and orderly appearance, so essen- tial to well-groomed men. Just ruba little Glostora through your twice a week—or after and your hair will then just as you comb it. Glostora softens the hair and makes Very € fined ] air once or shampooing stav, each dav. it pliable. Then, even stubborn hair will stay in place of its own accord. It gives your hair that natural, rich, well-groomed effect, instead of leaving it stiff and artificial looking as waxy pastes do. Glostora also keeps the scalp and the hair healthy by restoring the natural oils from which the hair de- rives its health, life, gloss and lustre. soft, Try it! See how easy it is to keep your hair combed any style you like, whether brushed lightly or combed down fiat. If you want your hair to lie down par ticularly smooth and tight, after appl ing Glostora, simply moisten your hair {with water before brushing it. 1276 We A large bottle of Glostora costs but a trifle at any drug store. Send This Coupon and Try it FREE WATKINS COMPANY st 3rd Street, Cleveland, Ohio a sample of GLOSTORA, 26-G-196 FREE, l _ R I | 1 Please send me | paid | Vame | Addy 1 generous sample FREE i | THE R.L upon request. : WATKINSCO,, In Canada address 462 Wellington St. West, | | | all charges | | | | | | Toronto 2-Ont @ BE INDEPENDENT ff OWN YOUR OWN BUSINESS As exclusive distributor for HAN- SLICK Powdered Hand Soap. Ev erybody a customer. Fine repeater. Ail year around business. Write for information and free sample SOLAR PRODUCTS COMPANY 2146 So. Troy Street Chicago A SEMI-ANNUAL application of NO-BLUR on your windshield will y the ENTIRE windshield each time it rains . invisible after being appiied will not wear or wash off. A quality product that is being wel- comed by motorists everywhere. Regular 2-oz. size sufficient to last life of your car. Price $1.00 at your lealer’s or sent postpaid direct. Re sults guaranteed. STANDARD SALES CO., Dept. S _ Memphis, Tenn. NOW i is t the Time to Start! bles literally thot an h enab and women to make extra money im nan pod money ker a ear long It's dc mbly profitable between w and Christmas! You w it least want to know what just write Box ‘16 24 4 The ag ay E vended, Post, 647 Independence Square, Phila. enable you to enjoy the safety and | convenience of clear vision through | $ $ FOR WOMEN $ $ Many women are earning from $25 to $50 a week by introducing beautiful Franklin-wear Lingerie direct from the millof along established New England manu facturer to women in their own homes. Use your spare time be femora money by the simple methods we have “ 1« You get your commission when you take th der We deliver the garments and make colle tions. Write now for illustrated booklet giving fi ul details. You can have it free. Address Mass Dept. SP-11, Franklin Company, Melrose, DependableTime Always in Sight Mansfield Motor Clock GLOWNITE $4.50 Youcan attach this accu- rate radium dash clock in a few minutes—yourself. Bright Nickel or Satin Black finish. Vibration proof and guaranteed. | Outside 30 hour movement. At | diameter dealers’ or direct from us. 374 ine hes J.F. Mansfield, 15 Maiden Lane, N.Y. C. sands of men ] and begun to talk. he sed he came into the | case because ferst the defender was a strain- | and for what, for what, ger in a strainge land. he sed it reminded him of that butiful himm we all gnew iam a pilgrim and i am a strainger i can tarry, i can tarry but a nite but he sed this pilgrim, this strainger, this man who cood not speek our langage had been maid to tarry, not only a nite but a hoal day in the ruthles grasp of the law. i say, for having | tride to pertec the public by a ack of dis- | sipline, of necesary dissipline sutch as evry school teecher in the town is aloud and in- | curiged to apply to sutch of our children as need it. what wood happen if our beluved frend, our beluved old school master, Mis- ter Francis, was took and struck with a billy and hancuffed and put in a filthy lockup ana be forsed to asociate with the class of ofenders whitch disturbed this oner- able court today and receeved merited dis- sipline of another kind. what wood hapen, i say. why thetownspeeple wood rise in their rath and wood pull this bilding down brick by brick to rescu their beloved teecher. i sed to Beany that i gnew sum fellers that woodent and Beany he sed he gnew sum two. then the onerable Amos Tuck kep on talking. sum times i thougt i wood cry he maid me feal so sorry for the italian man and sum times he maid me feal so mad with Beanys father for aresting him and i almost maid up my mind to get up and tell what maid the munky bite him. but i dident dass to for that wood be telling on Pewt, and then again it wood be all up with our munky and hand organ. but if i had hit that munky with a sling shot i gess i wood have up and told even if i lost the munky and hand organ. well he kep talking for most a hour and i never herd so good a speech. when he got throug i gess most evrybody wanted to let the italian man and the munky and the hand organ go but the Jug had to wate and hear what mister Wood, Pile Woods father, sed about it. well then mister Wood, Pile Woods father, got up. he is a big man and has lots of hair standing up and he can look verry fearce. but he is auful good natured most of the time. he sed your oner the grate Shakspere says the quality of mersy is not straned. whatever may have been the case in his day it isent so now. for in evry case of crime a large majority of the public show vasly moar simpathy for the criminal than they do for the officers of the law, whitch, sworn to perteck the public, risk life and limm evry day in the heroick performence of their duty. the quality of mersy is straned to the braking point. the blind simpathy for the criminal will, if carried to the limit, maik a farse of our administration of thelaw. gosh i bet the italian man will be sent to jale for life and we will have our munky and our hand organ for life. hooray. then mister Wood, Pile Woods father, went on and sed your oner we are here not to be governed by pasion, not to be softened to mersy, but to obtain justise to the crim- inal and pertection to the publick. well then he talked splendid for a hour and a haff and pretty near broke down the ta- ble banging it. he told of Beanys fathers bravery in the war. you wood have thougt old Isrile Putnam whitch clim into a gristly bares den and killed him with his naked hands wasent haff so brave as Beanys father when he grabed the italian and the munky and the hand organ. you wood have thougt that Beanys father won the November 6, 1926 war himself. you wood have thougt the only onnest man in the wirld was his testi- fyers and the wirst men in the wirld was the testifyers on the cther side xcept the italian man and he was the wirst man in the hoal wirld. well when he got throug i was glad i had- ent told what maid the munky bite the italian man becaus i dident understand what a auful feller he was and i wood have lost the munky. i bet we will have our munky and our hand organ now. well then the Jug looked over what he had rote down and rote sum moar and then he sed this is a case of importance to the defender and to the public. on the one side the defender is intitled to the pertec- tion the law gives to them whitch is accused of crimes, on the other side the public is entitled to the pertection that the statues of the stait of New Hampshire give. the statue governing this case is as follows. then he red most a page out of a big book about what shood be did to a man whitch was found gilty of cruilty to animals. then he talked a long time. sumtimes he wood say sumthing in favor of the italian man and we wood be mad enuf to bite him, and then he wood say sumthing in favor of Beanys father and then we wood feal pretty good, and you coodent say whitch way he wood deside. well while he was talking the italian man whitch coodent understand a wird had fell asleep and dropped the munkys string and the munky clim up on the Jugs table jest as the Jug was saying that he cood not beleeve it was necessary to a 200 lb man to do what he had did to maik a little munky mind, that he must have been cruil to him for a long time. i bet he was rite. then he looked up and there was the munky setting on his tale and waching him and he sed dangirous, that is ridiculus, and he reeched out to pat the munky on the hed when the munky chittered, gumped on his sholder, scrached him and pulled off his wigg and wood have bit him if the italian man hadent come out of his pen like a cat and grabbed the munky whitch gnew bet- ter than to bite him again, but held onto the Jugs wigg until the italian man opened his claws. well evrybody gumped up and there was grate xcitement but the Jug pounded the table and maid them set down and sed coart is not adjirned yet until i have maid a decision. then he put his wigg on again kind of one sided and sed i was about to deside against the defender but it is a well gnew fac in law that the best evidence must be obtained if posible. i can no longer dout that this munky needs dissipline and i rule out all evidence to the contrary and i order that this defender be discharged. then the peeple begun to clap and the Jug pounded the table and sed it isent rite to have the authority of the coart and the dignity of his offic set at nougt by ennyone and he shood fine the munky $10 dollers for contemp of coart. then the onerable Amos Tuck sed your onner suppose the munky cant pay the fine what shall you do and the Jug sed i shall confissicate the munky and the hand organ, and if he does that Beanys father will have the munky and the hand organ sure. and then the onerable Amos Tuck sed well i never herd of a case jest like it but i think that Alvys speech is wirth $25. dollers and i have had moar fun today than i have had for years. so he paid the munkys fine and the italian man took his munky and his hand organ and the last we saw of him he was going down Kensington road as fast Continued on Page 242

Page 241

New Vitality to Your It is a well known fact that radio instru- ments and the principle of radio have been highly perfected. What remained to be done was to improve the units that go with the set—such as tubes and bat- teries, or the power units—for in these units is the heart of the Radio. Tubes and power units supply the vital- ity—the very life—to the radio. Without them the finest set is worthless. The bet- ter the power units the better the radio. Vesta presents remarkable improve- ments in tubes and radio power. Radio owners may now have and enjoy the clear, pure tones of the broadcast with all annoyance removed and cost of operation greatly reduced. y Vesta Trickle Charger Keeps your radio battery fully charged—always *10 Pacific Coast $10.50 Vesta Radio Products Radio “‘A” Unit The famous ISOLATOR Battery for a tig automobiles—the highest quality. Radio “A” Battery The Vesta VACO auto battery —stand- Radio “B” Battery ard construction—for low price. VESTA BATTERY CORPORATION 2100 INDIANA AVE., CHICAGO, U.S.A. THERE IS A VESTA DEALER NEAR YOU VESTA } Vesta Auto Products O THE SATURDAY EVENING POST BY THE MAKERS OF VESTA AUTOMOBILE BATTERIES ~~ QUALITY PRODUCTS FOR OVER 29 YEARS Radio Power kmproved Vesta Radio Units Brin Vesta Quality Tubes The quality you have desired tur pure Tone Reception X-201-A-——-$2 199-—$2.25 ' wa Vesta Radio “A” Unit Perfect power, three -in-one, “A Battery, Trickle Charger and Built-In Hydrometer in a Clear Glass Case With 25 Ampere Battery, $25 With 50 Ampere Battery,$27.50 Pacific Coast, Add $1.50 Vesta Radio “A” and “B” Batteries The quality radio batteries Vesta Isolator Auto Battery the height of qualiry. Isolators " shown in magnifying glass—keep th plates apart—a patented Vesta feature minimizing buckling and short circuiting whichis the cause of 50°, of batterytrouble AUTO-RADIO PRODUCTS Vesta for ‘Vitality ~~ e your folder s « VESTA BATTERY CORPORATION, 2100 Indiana Ave., Chicago, III - Please se on Vesta Auto-Radio Products, particularly tt

Page 242

a ae RR i

849,796. Copies of The Country Gentleman Were Sold in September 1925 And More Than 1,300,000 Copies of The Country Gentleman Were Sold in September 1926

AGAIN OF ALMOST

IN ONE YEAR FOR

A NEW EDITORIAL APPEAL that interests worth- while farmers generally —that reaches beyond the mere daily routine of farm duties. A BREADTH OF INTEREST that reaches the whole family. Out of twelve thousand letters received re- cently more than half specifically stated that every member of the writer’s family was a regular reader of The Country Gentleman. A STANDARD OF CONTRIBUTORS, both of fic- tion and of special and agricultural articles, of the very highest—national figures in their various fields. A BEAUTY OF APPEARANCE which sets The Country Gentleman squarely on a par with the great national magazines. These are four of the factors that have won for The Country Gentleman this great and rapidly growing cir- culation. And the character of this circulation is the additional factor that has given The Country Gentle- man its overwhelming leadership in the amount of advertising carried.

The Modern Magazine for Leadership Farm Families

1} ii] HH THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY tH | i] INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA HTH I |! ' Advertising Offices: Philadelphia, New York HTT TTT Chicago, Boston, San Francisco THT | Detroit, Cleveland TET RTT

500,000 * ikiand ttor Car Ce 3 Burroughs Adding Machine ¢ 172 Guse” Bases I 186 Oregon City Woolen Mil 117 Cadillac Motor Car Ce 101 California Packing Corporatio Il Cover Campbell Soup ¢ aoe 37 Paige -D troit Motor Car Compar 55 Carter Company, The William 226 Palmolive Company, Th 122,123 Caswell-Runyan Company, The 170 Pe nnsylvania Railroad 91 Certain-teed Products Corporatior 201 Perfection Heater & Mfg. Comy 103 Chamber of Commerce, Miami, Florida 234 Perfection Stove Company »?1 Chandler-Cleveland Motors Corp 95 Pet Milk Company III Cover Chevrolet Motor Company 66, 67 Philadelphia Storage Batter) ( 155 Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad 15 Pinaud Incorporated, Ed 113 Chrysler Sales Corporation Pines Winterfront Compa 41 Cincinnati Auto Specialty C« nm Pioneer Suspender Comp 142 City of Coral Gables 212 Namen tg: o?; 42 Colgate & Ce IV Cover *rest-O-Lite Co., Inc., TI 96 Commonwealth Shoe & Leather Compan 218 Procter & Gamble Co., Tt 2 Congoleum-Nairn In 44 Pruett, Mrs. O. B 20 Conn, Ltd., C. G 192 Cooper Corporation, The 222 Cuban, National Tourist Commission 102 Real Silk Hosiery Mill 63 Cunningham Inc., E. T 224 Reed & Barton 80 Curtis Companies, Incorporated 159 Remington Cash Register ¢ I 90 Curtiss Candy Company 99 Reo Motor Car Compar )3 Cutler-Hammer Mfg. Co., The 219 Ross Gear & Tool C« 126 Royal Easy Chair ¢ 19 Day-Fan Electric C« 232 Dixon Crucible Co., Josep! 02 Save the Surface Campa 11 Dodge Brothers, Inc 110,111 Schrader’s Son, Inc., A 57 Du Pont de Nemours & Co., Inc., E 77 Scott Paper Company 181 Durant Motors, Inc 8&9 Sheaffer Pen Company, W. A 106 Durham Hosiery Mills 216 Sheet Steel Trade Extension Committ 19 Durkee-Atwood C« sone sae Sikes Company 19 Smith & Corona Typewriters Inc, L ¢ 190, 191 Snider Preserve ( The T. A 162 Eagle-Picher Lead Company, The 144 Solar Products (¢ 38 Eclipse Machine Company 72 Sonora Phénog 156, 19% Elgin National Watch Compan 208 Southern Pine iation 36 Eskimo Pie Corporation 76 Sparks-Withington Compar rt , Esterbrook Steel Pen ¢ 173 Spencer Heater Compatr 58 Squibb & Sons, E. R 13 Standard Laboratories, | 169 Famous Players-Lasky Cory 83 Standard Sales C« 38 Fansteel Products ¢ i? rporated. .160, 161 Standard Varnish Work 193 Federal-Brandes, In 187 Stein-Bloch 8 Fisher Body Corp 51 Steinfeld Inc 138 Fitzgerald Manutacturing ¢ 8&8 Studebaker Corp. of Amer I 1 Fleischmann Company, Th« « Swift & Compa 9 Florsheim Shoe Company, The 229, 234 Francisco Auto Heater Co., The 225 Franklin C« 238 T 1 French Battery Company 184 T ( I 86 Frigidaire 115 I 116 Fruit Dispatch Compan 139 Tork Compa 09 Fuld & Hatch Knitting ¢ 145 I plex Sa ( 8 Fuller Brush Company, The 124 Ur 1 St Gy 1 ¢ ~ General El r 139 Universal Pictures 6 Glycerine Producers’ Association of Amer- U.S. Pi g Card ¢ » The 60 ica, The 235 Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., Inc., T} 54,61 Guarantee Liquid Measure (¢ 109 \ ium Oil ( [ 41 Gulbransen Company 175 Van Cleef Bros 140 Vesta Battery Corpora 39 Hammermill Paper Company 136 Hertel Co., The John A 207 Wahl Company, The 141 Hookless Fastener Compan} 114 Watkins Company, The R. I 38 Hotel LaSalle 125 Watson Company, John Warre 129 Hudson Motor Car Company 84,85 Wedler-Shuford Co., The ”) Hupp Motor Car Corp 47 Western Cx 188 W ate mpan) 94 White ¢ ny 164 I I ip & Tube Company . 182, 183 Willard Battery, Th 1 I ra Compa f Nor Ameri 168 Williams Company he J. B »42 Wilmington Chamber of Commer 30 Wright & Co., Inc., E. T 10 Jer Wr t Compa I 174 Wyoming Shovel Works, The 105 Keith Company, Geo. E 74 X" Laboratori 69 Kohler Swiss Chocolates Co., Inc Peter Cailler 150 Kuppenheimer Co., B 134,135 Yale & Towne Mfg. Co., The 198 While every precaution is taken to insure accuracy, we cannot guarantee against the possibility of an occasional change or omission in the preparation of this index

November 6, 1926 |

Page 243

i Your dealer will install Hu interfront on your car in ten minutes Dont at your THE SATURDAY EVENING POST aeseeuereee® ee ee eee give cold a chance motor Correct this evave error to which automotive authori- ( ties attribute 50 to 75 © of all premature motor wear ce D is here the arch-enemy of up"’ period is cut to seconds. You f A every motor It is the cause iuto the habit ot using the choke motive experts agree—of 50 to 75' of should be used —for farting onl Vi all premature motor weat motor 1s kept aiwavs at the correct te Every spring finds thousands of motor perature for highest operating efficies ists seeking the cause of motor trouble You experience a new degree of gasolit Yet in the fall following summer economy —increased warmth inside ye months of constant use-—few cars re That first ‘‘choke”’ car—summer-time smoothness and _ flex morning 1s when quire attention 8 sed bility in your motor LAamate rts ory ee » The choke 1 cold-weather menace j . a anh 7 ‘ What the Winte rfront is and what it does Many automotive authorities agree it’s the ‘“‘ warmin The Pines Automatic Winterfront is a thermostat up” period in chill and cold weather that causes greatest . he controlled shutter that fits snugly over the radiator damage. The ‘choke period—when, to get your motor ‘ ue rhe thermostat control fits flush with the radiator operating smoothly, you drive miles with the ‘choke Temperature change in the motor are transmitted open through the thermostat to the automatic shutters ‘onscious are ing -m t Unconsciously you are flooding your motor with raw rhus, when more heat is needed. the shutters close ' : rast > t > r is . . gasoline that will not vaporize until the motor is hot themselves. When cool air is required they auto t washes | rs : Tr Ils » oil . ' | ishes cylinders and cylinder walls clean of the oil patically open to the exact angle desired —_ er geen eee ae ' - a , fil protection, bringing metal to metal contact that Winterfront is the onlv autenstie radister shatte scores pits 1e ‘e ws i ' ores and pits metal surfaces. It flows down into the on the market. There is nothing to get out of order 1 S cess} i ing he i > ( crankcase, excessively diluting the oil you depend on nothing to remember. You put Winterfront on for lubrication Extreme carbonization, corrosion and rapid cylinder wear follow. Gasoline consumption is increased at a tremendous rate. a ; ‘ This ts the danger period that Pines ( s Automatic Winterfront eliminates \ it h Winterfront the ‘ warming- your car equipped Many fine cars provide nes Automa Wir | I r pment on Pack 1 ® P \ ind Peerless De Luxe ( Wills kK \\ s Ste. Clare del T ¢ Makers of these fine " | done by cold—saving th ynere You can have tl s e prot wl t will cost epair the d rage Not an accessory When itside te erature re r 0) Pines Automatic Winterfront i ome on—the first morning vou are for { hoke open That's when damage are flooding a Id t washing the film of oil protect parts—hastening big repair Note then added } the draughts t! the comiort ie ke with summer oper Don't Your 1 Your ad than t savy g 50 1) ( remarkable differet inside the en ple } isure oF ¢ \ “ iting smoot Put on in ten minutes PINES WINTERFRONT—/7°S AUTOMATIC this protection a necessity

Page 244

Pe tae th +e t Wont THE SATURDAY EVENING POST DRY on the Why this means better, quicker shaves 7, MU will notice that men say they like Williams Shaving Cream because it won’t dry on the face. Why should this be so important? It is the moisture in the lather that softens the beard. Williams long-lasting, bulky lather is sa¢u- rated with moisture. \t holds its moisture right where you want it on the beard bristles. Holds it there until you are through shav- ing. The more moisture a shaving lather holds and the longer it holds it, the softer the beard— the smoother the shave. This pure, uncolored shaving cream shortens the shave; while you are working up the lather, the mild ingredients whisk away The J. BL W CAR hE~ pin Mail this Name coupon NOW! ae ral TA WET VA IS OUR NEWEST TRIUMPH, A SCIENTIFIC AFTER-SHAVING PRI \Ol A VELVA Wrewitt sexp A GENEROUS TEST BOTTLE FREE. WRITE I the water-resisting oil-flm from the beard, then the tremendous moisture of Williams drenches the hairs through and through. The razor just glides along—no possible pull. Williams leaves the skin glove smooth, makes you feel as if you’d had an expert barber’s massage. Save Money Williams Shaving Cream in the big double-size tube sells for 50c. It holds twice as much as the regular large-size tube at 35c. Let us send you a week’s FREE sample tube of Williams. Prove what we say. Send the coupon below, or a postcard, TODAY. iams Company, Dept. 411-A iry, Conn 1 Address, 1114 St. Patrick St., Montreal me free trial tut f Williams Shaving Cream. S. E. P. 11-6-26 PARATION LPI ) 411-A (Continued from Page 238 as he cood go and looking back to see if ennybody was following him. gosh darn it aint that jest our luck. then mister Wood, Pile Woods father, and the onerable Amos Tuck shook hands with the Jug and went off laffing and bend- ing over and slapping their legs and evry now and then leening agenst fenses to laff. and mister Wood, Pile Woods father, would say i had you beat Amos, if that cussid munky hadent taken a hand, and Amos would say yes Alvy but i beat you. gosh i gess if he gnew he had beat us he woodent have felt so mutch like laffing. well i never had sutch a xciting time in my life. if it hadent been for losing our munky and our hand organ it wood have been the best time me and Pewt and Beany ever had. i have about desided to give up playing in a curcis band for a living and be a lawyer. well tonite Beany come over and sed his father is thinking of giving up his gob. he says if the coart dont back him up when he risks life and limm for the public then it aint enny use. gosh i hoap he wont give it up for me and Pewt and Beany wont have enny frend on the forse. peraps he wont. well we have lost our munky and our hand organ and a lot of fun and peraps a good deel of money becaus we cood have had shows and charged for tickets. but ennyway i dont beleeve i cood have slep if that italian man had been sent to jale. November 6, 1926 i know Beany woodent because he is kind- harteder than i am. i dont know whether Pewt wood or not. Friday, June 6, 186—i gess it is all rite about Beanys father becaus father told him evrybody sed he done his duty and was a credik to the town of Exeter. so he is going to hang on to his gob. Saterday, June 7, 186-—well what do you think had hapened now. you woodent gess in 2 million years. today a polise offiser from Kingston brougt the italian man and the hand organ and the munky to the polise station and gave them to Beanys father to taik to jale. he had been arested for sleep- ing in a mans barn in Kingston and had been tride in a nother coart and sent to jale for 60 days. the onerable Amos Tuck did- ent know ennything about it until it was two lait. so Beanys father took him to jale and old Sam Levitt whitch is jaler sed he wood- ent have a dam munky on his premises or a hand organ eether. so he took the italian man and put him in a cell and maid Beanys father taik the munky and the hand organ home. Beanys father has got the munky tide in the barn in a horse stall and me and Pewt and Beany have been over to see him. the hand organ is in the house and we can play it. gosh i bet we will have fun. Editor’s Note—This is the eighteenth of a series of sketches by Mr. Shute. The next will appear in an early issue THE SATURDAY never authorized. (More Than Two Million Six Hundred Thousand Weekly) IS fully protected by copyright and nothing that appears in it may be reprinted, either wholly or in part, without special permission. The use of our articles or quotations from them for advertising promotions and stock-selling schemes is EVENING POST Short Turns and Encores Table of Contents November 6, 1926 Cover Design by Edgar Franklin Wittmack SHORT STORIES PAGE Ann ’n’ Andy—Austin Parker 6 The General’s Aide—Leonard H. Nason 12 The Grigsby Formula— Robert S. Winsmore 14 When Mankind Was Young—Rome Begins—F. Britten Austin 18 Fear— James Warner Bellah 20 The Eftest Way—Ben Ames Williams 24 Salvage—Hugh MacNair Kahler 26 Yes, Sir; He’s My Maybe—Sam Hellman 30, II Fool Ridge— Lowell Otus Reese 38 Low But Sure—Octavus Roy Cohen 46 The Quality of Justice Handed Out by the Blind Goddess on the Town Hall in Exeter, New Hampshire—Henry A. Shute 50 ARTICLES Letters of a Self-Made Diplomat to His President— Will Rogers 3 The New Capitalism— Frank Parker Stockbridge 5 Nine Slaves for Each Citizen— Chester T. Crowell 10 The Trail of the Lonesome Trout—Kenneth L. Roberts 16 Gold’s Where You Find It—Courtney Ryley Cooper 22 Some Others and Myself—George Broadhurst 28 Touchdown!—As Told by Coach Amos Alonzo Stagg to Wesley Winans Stout 29 Working for the Ticket 35 Speed Wings—Lieut. Al Williams, U.S. N 43 SERIALS Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (In two parts)—Richard Matthews Hallet 8 The Mad Lover (Third part)—Richard Connell 32 MISCELLANY Editorials 34 36 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 ———_—————— ——" —— se RS RE

Page 245

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST +, ATWATER KENT RADIO Why your speaker is vital to your enjoyment of radio Zaz we jw when you ask people what they want in a radio set, which do their work clearly and naturally with the truest tone are most of them answer: “Tone.” most desirable. Phey may call it “clear recep- But many a good receiving set tion” or “a natural quality,” but fas been blamed when the fault however they describe what they was in the speaker, for a radio want it always means fone. speaker is the instrument. that They realize, as we do, that — gives voice to the receiving set. the purpose of a radio receiving — It can make or mar a good radio set and its companion, the radio — program—for it can make or mar speaker, is to connect your home _ the tone that you hear. All Atwater Kent Radio Speak- ers are the horn type, because clearly with all the broadcasting stations within range. Therefore, the set and speaker — we believe that this type gives EVERY SUNDAY EVENING:—The Atwater Kent Radio Hour brings you the stars of opera and concert, in Radio’s finest program Hear it at 9:15 Eastern Time, 8:15 Central Time, through WEAI Vew York WGN Chicago WJAR Providence WFI Philadelphia WEEI Boston WCAE Pittsburgh WRC Washington WGR Buffalo WSAI Cincinnati wor Davenport WTAG W orcester KSD St. Louis WTAM Cleveland wws Detroit weco Minneapolis St. Paul Of course you'll want a speaker as good as your set. With an Atwater Kent Radio Speaker you are sure of natural tone and all the volume you wish. Model I shown at right; finished in dark brown crystalline, $16.00. Prices slightly higher west of the Rockies and in Canada Write for illustrated booklet of Atwater Kent Radi ATWATER KENT MANUFACTURING COMPANY 1. Atwater Kent, President 4703 WISSAHICKON AVENUE, PHILADELPHIA, PA Model 32, the extra powerful seven-tube Mode! 30, six-tube One Dial re- Model 35, six-tube One Dial One Dial receiver, less tubes and batter ceiver, less tubes and batte receiver, shielded ibinet . ies, but with battery cable attached, but with battery cable attache tubes and | t h #140.00 #85,00 battery cabl #70.00 a quality of tone superior to any other. To assure natural tone, a speak- er must have size and weight. It must have enough room to trans late a great many minute vibra tions into music or a true repro duction of the human speaking voice. It must produce true and clear tones without hollow, drum ming sounds. And it must be so constructed that the tone will not deteriorate as time goes on. In our laboratories we have fully tested every type of speaker. ‘Today no other design gives such a faithful, satisfying tone as the one which we recommend. When we find that any other type of speak- er will produce better results, we will make it. ; | i

Page 246

SATURDAY EVENING POST November 6, 1926 Wel otlas ~a ae pan of GENUINE STAINLESS STEEL W! IO wouldn’t feel pride in adding such a beautiful piece to her cooking equipment? The new Polar Frying Pan transforms a humble, hard-working utensil into one of the handsomest in the kitchen. Genuine Stainless Steel has en- dowed it with matchless beauty and unrivaled serviceability. ™ This new Polar Stainless will outlast several ordinary fry- ing pans—and 7 retains its beauty. Water cannot rust it; —— acids corrode; or heat cause scale to form. Flame merely ‘% tints the bottom a delicate straw color, which contrasts agreeably with the bright shining sides and handle. It cooks with an even heat and has the indestructible strength of true Stainless Steel. The handle stays cool. But the outstanding virtue that wins the hearts of thousands of American housewives—is, zt ts as easy to keep clean as your Stainless Steel C utlery. It took years to develop—but at /ast you can secure it in VA ‘SS leading stores all over the country. Be sure to see the . Polar Stainless—the frying pan that is made from genuine = Stainless Steel. vives are enthusiastic about { POLAR WARE COMPANY Seetia, aud dame anaenie tea Makers of Famous Polar Enamelware SHEBOYGAN, WISCONSIN vy look ugly But -* ind i POLAR eS IAINLESS STEEL | J SERS — SS FRYING PAN (0/7: _ a dre ss Genuine Stainless Steel is manufactured only under the patents of the AMERICAN STAINLESS STEEL COMPANY, COMMONWEALTH BUILDING, PITTSBURGH

Page 247

™ ¥ } j C)] those WilO ICnNow -™ | Pet \I in tr ] ul ( CeT KNOW a new convenien nad onomy a } in tood. W he HeS( inpey ae a Vie , Weiagnr 1 FOv™ b Saree PRE:

Page 248

eae eee Softened by this new method every hair receives a sharp clean cut...no catching or dragging Razor Pull Banished ERE are two of the most remark- able photographs ever made under the lens of a microscope. They explain the cause and effect of *‘razor-pull” in a way that words can never describe. These are not drawings, but actual photomicro- graphs. They show clearly and convincingly why a Colgate shave is so remarkably smooth and comfortable. ragged edge Note the hair at the right—cut off clean and smooth. Con- trast it with the jagged, nicked, and broken hair at the left. The sharply cut hair was properly softened at the base. The other was improperly softened. Here the razor, seeking a soft spot, slid up along the hair, jumped, dragged, and scraped. **Razor-pull’’ was the result. The cause of ‘Razor-Pull” When the beard is softened at the base by the Colgate lather, the razor glides across your face, cutting the hairs off at almost right angles close to the skin surface. This gives a smooth, close shave with a feeling of comfort. But if you do not saturate the dase of the beard with moisture, the razor meets with resistance. It slides along the hair until a soft spot is reached. Then the hair is cut at a very acute angle—leaving a rough, ragged edge. This, according to eminent scientific authority, is the real cause of *razor-pull.” (Note: No shaving cream, however efficient, can make up for a dull razor. ) What happens when you shave? If you could iook at your beard through QUICKLY, this new-type lather goes deep down to the base of your beard and soaks it soft with moisture right where the razor does its work. a powerful microscope you would see each hair covered with a coating of natural oil. But for shaving, this oil film must be re- moved before you can soften the beard. That is because water is the real softening agent, and oil stops moisture penetration. Colgate chemists have found a scien- tific way to break up this film of oil. The instant Colgate lather reaches your beard, it clears away the oil surface — dissolves it into countless tiny particles. (This is what chemists call emulsifi- cation. ) * * * After the oil has been removed, the beard is ready to soak up moisture. Colgate’s is shaving cream in concen- trated form—super water-absorbent— making a lather of the finest texture. In this lather, the bubbles are smaller, Softens the beard at the base COLGATE & CO. Please send me the trial tube of Colgate'’s Rapid Name Address thus providing two distinct advantages: (1) Small bubbles hold more water and much less air; they give more points of moisture contact. (2) They permit greater penetration down to the base of the beard. Softens the beard at the base Some lathers merely cover the horny surface of your beard. Others go partly through. But with Colgate lather, thousands of clinging, moisture-laden bubbles quickly penetrate deep down to the base of the beard, right where the razor does its work. They bring and hold an abundant supply of water : LATHER in direct contact ; hotomicrograph ot with the bottom ather of an jina shaving of every hair. cream susrounding single hair Large dark spots are air— white areas are water. Note how the large bubbles hold air instead of water against the beard So Est. 1806 NEW YORK Dept. 140-K, 581 Fifth Ave., New York Shave Cream for better shaving. IL enclose 4c, Thus the entire beard becomes wringing wet—moist and pliable—soft- ened at the base, where the razor does its work Razor path is lubricated In addition, Colgate lather lubricates the path of the razor—lets it glide across your face without catching or dragging. And it leaves your skin cool and comfortable throughout the day. If you think all shaving lathers are alike, just look at the two photographs in the circles below, taken through a powerful microscope. Notice the fine, closely knit texture of Colgate lather. Notice how com- \ pact it is—how 4 close these tiny § bubbles nestle to the hair. And then com- pare it with the coarse texture of the other lather. ‘Those large-sized COLGATE LATHER bubbles you see are filed with air. Se ae They merely hold ee oe air instead of water against the bottom of the against the beard. hair—thus, the beard cannot become properly softened at the base. Make this test These vital improvements in shaving are so easy to prove that we urge you to make a test. We urge you to compare Colgate’s with any other shaving meth- od you may have used before. Clip and mail the coupon printed at the left—and note the difference in the comfort of your morning shave when you lather up with Colgate’ s.