The Saturday Evening Post 1927-08-20: Vol 200 Iss 8

Page 1

THE SATURDAY | EVENING POST F. Scott Fitzgerald —Struthers Burt—James Warner Bellah— Horatio Winslow Hugh MacNair Kahler— George Pattullo— Corra Harris —Octavus Roy Cohen

Page 2

Health authorities are now urging mothers everywhere to give their children a hot cereal for breakfast. Tests in many cities have shown that only a cooked cereal can supply the boundless energy required for the strain of school work. For over thirty years one particular cereal has been recognized as ideal for growing children—good old Cream of Wheat. It not only supplies in abundance the mental and physical energy they need, but also Cream of Wheat is remarkably easy to digest. And the young- sters love it! CEREE—« personal incentive plan which has enabled thousands of mothers to arouse their children’s interest in eat- ing a hot cereal breakfast. We will gladly send you an attractive colored poster to be hung on the wall with a record form on which your child pastes a gold star for each hot cereal break- fast eaten. The authoritative booklet, ‘‘ The Important Business of Feeding Children,” will be sent free with the stars and poster and a sample package of Cream of Wheat. All free. Write today. Dept. A-17, Cream of Wheat Co., Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Page 3

And smarter socks cannot be bought at any price OOK at these silk socks, called Holeproof Ix Toe. In them you'll note smarter sheerness and finer silks, but the reason for their extra wear is hidden. The toe — and that’s where the 3 to4 times more wear lies — is amazingly light. You scarcely can see where it begins or ends. The heavy old-time thick ness has disappeared en- tirely. Thus is gained de lightful comfort, greater ease. And on that, plus far longer wear, rests the vic- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Has won 1,000,000 men a year Wears 3 to 4 times longer — costs $1 and less. a way that took us months to find revolution in fine socks. , Trim smartness — striking colors You make your choice from widely varied colors —lively or somber, whichever you like best. Glove-tight fit around the ankle gives smart trimness. Webby silks of sparkling lustre make these socks as fine as money can buy. Now 3,000,000 men say they're America’s smartest also the longest wearing. Yet you pay only 50¢ to tory of this unique way of knitting. That’s why Ex Toe wins friends at the rate of a million men a vear, The principle is simple to describe. At the tip and over the top of the toea special wear-resisting thread is woven. Knit in Hfoleprootf x loe Hasiery HOLEPROOF HOSIERY COMPANY, MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN $l, according to materials. Several spe > ] case scl 911197 > . i cially priced lisle num ers at three pairs for S] Penecial] ’ ¢ ' 1+ « c PCAs > I a" nce! Get a tew pairs today. Just ask for |] roe. If vour store hasn't any, write to us You'll want to see the unique patterns in our new 1 fan tvles as well HOLEPROOF HOSIERY COMPANY OF CANADA, LIMITED, LONDON, ONTARIO

Page 4

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 This is the shorter, easy-fit- This is the authentic model fa- This is the two-button coat that ting coat with square notched vored in the East and in some is being worn now by some of lapels; in favor in the Western of the Western colleges. The the style leaders in the large colleges coat is longer universities UNIVERSITY MEN ENDORSE THESE THREE STYLES FOR FALL Hart Schaffner & Marx have men who do nothing else but visit the universities and colleges of this country and report to the last detail what these young men are wearing and what they want Never before have so much expert study, investigation and designing skill been devoted to college styles The same attention is given to the colors, weaves and fabrics Hart Schaffner & Marx college styles are correct to the last fraction of an inch HART SCHAFFNER & MARX NEW YORK _ LONDON CHICAGO art Schaffner Marx C0 ramet Vi eK p

Page 5

ee a a ee ee Published Weekly George Horace Lorimer . - - EDITOR The Curtis Publishing Frederick S. Bigelow, A.W. Neal, | c Thomas B. Costain, Wesley W. Stout, j Company B.Y. Riddell, Thomas L. Masson. } | Cyrus H. KH. Curtis, President Associate Ed . ¢ ‘ Blo ce-President ane easurer s i s Matter emberi S79. S.Coll , ‘ ssiness anager F Ofbe« 1 Pb « de hi i ler y~ { w i ult ecretery 15 Add re mbus,O iblie dove dvertising ecto 6. © - ! acliere ne Independence Square, Philadelphia F d id oD! . B, B F aki Sapinas M cP De M “. 1 Portl nel, ounde # 1728 by enj. Franklin pi ew, i Se Poul Mi Soe Ps London: 6, Henrietta Street ; plead m, Fos. maha. 0 Coscia Gestion Copyright, 1927, by The Curtis Publishir d State gister. ‘ Jac hsonville. Fla. New Orie P fons 0.6 Patent Office and in Foreign Countric “ver A pe Boondall Aaa Waiter ad aot Office Department. we, ¢ Me..LosA ‘ Bich . Volume 200 dc. THE Copy PHILADELPHIA, PA., AUGUST 20, 1927 ese SS Number 8 OQ IB” IL fl ID DR As Raffino Turned to Go, He Bent and Whispered in Jenny's Ear and She Looked at Him Without Smiling as She Said Good Night T WAS a particularly sordid and degraded By JE Seott Fitzgerald | bu tton eyes. She was Mrs. Choynski, née Dele murder trial, and Jacob Booth, writhing nty, and fate had ordained that she should quietly on a spectators’ bench, felt that he ILLUSTRATED Br HEN RALEIGH one day seize a meat ax and divide her sailo had childishly gobbled something without lover. The puffy hands that had swung the being hungry, simply because it was there. The newspapers had humanized the case, weapon turned an ink bottle about endle evel he glanced at the crows made a cheap, neat problem play out of an affair of the jungle, so passes that actually with a nervous smile. admitted one to the court room were hard to get. Such a pass had been tendered him Jacob frowned and looked around quickly; he had found a pretty face and lost it the evening before. again. The face had edged sideways into his consciousness when he was absorbed in a Jacob looked around at the doors, where a hundred people, inhaling and exhaling mental picture of Mrs. Choynski in action; now it was faded back into the anonymity with difficulty, generated excitement by their eagerness, their breathless escape from of the crowd. It was the face of a dark saint with tender, luminous eyes and askin pale their own private lives. The day was hot and there was sweat upon the crowd—obvious and fair. Twice he searched the room, then he forgot and sat stiffly and uncomfortably, sweat in large dewy beads that would shake off on Jacob if he fought his way through to — waiting. the doors. Someone behind him guessed that the jury wouldn’t be out half an hour. The jury brought in a verdict of murder in the first degree; Mrs. Choynski squeaked, With the inevitability of a compass needle, his head swung toward the prisoner's “Oh, my God!” The sentence was postponed until next d \ i slow rhythmic roll, table and he stared once more at the murderess’ huge blank face garnished with red the crowd pushed out into the August afternoor

Page 6

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Jacob saw the face again, realizing why he hadn’t seen It belonged to a young girl beside the prisoner’s it had been hidden by the full moon of Mrs. ’s head. Now the clear, luminous eyes were bright tears, and an impatient young man with a squashed nose was trying to attract the attention of the shoulder. “Oh, get out!” said the girl, shaking the hand off im- patiently. ‘‘ Le’ me alone, will you? Le’ me alone. Geeze!”’ The man sighed profoundly and stepped back. The girl embraced the dazed Mrs. Choynski and another lingerer that they were sisters. Then Mrs. her expression absurdly implied an important appointment—and the girl sat down at the desk and began to powder her face. Jacob waited; so did the young man with the squashed nose. The ser- geant came up brusquely and Jacob gave him five dollars. ‘“‘Geeze!” cried the girl to the young man. ‘‘Can’t you She stood up. Her presence, the obscure impatience, filled the court room. before le and noynsk emarked to Jacob Choynski was taken off the scene e’ me alone?” brations of her “Every day itsa same!’ Jacob moved nearer. The other man spoke to her rap- ‘Miss Delehanty, we’ve been more than liberal with you and your sister and I’m only asking you to carry out your share of the contract. Our paper goes to press at f: Miss Delehanty turned despairingly to Jacob. ‘“‘Can you beat it?” she demanded. ‘“‘ Now he wants a pitcher of my sister when she was a baby, and it’s got my mother in t too.’ ‘We'll take your mother out.” ‘““T want my mother though. It’s the only ore I got of her.” “T’ll promise to give you the picture back tomorrow.” “Oh, I’m sicka the whole thing.’”’ Again she was speak- ng to Jacob, but without seeing him except as some ele- ment of the vague, omnipresent public. “‘It gives me a pain in the eye.”’ She made a clicking sound in her teeth that comprised the essence of all human scorn. ‘“T have a car outside, Miss Delehanty,” said Jacob sud- denly. “Don’t you want me to run you home?” “All right,” she answered indifferently. The newspaper man assumed a previous acquaintance between them; he began to argue in a low voice as the three moved toward the door. “Every day it’s like this,” said Miss Delehanty bitterly. “These newspaper guys!’ Outside, Jacob signaled for his car and as it drove up, large, open and bright, and the hauffeur jumped out and opened the door, the reporter, on the verge of tears, saw the picture slipping away and launched into a peroration of pleading. ““Go jump in the river!’’ said Miss face, the face of a saint, an intense little Madonna, was lifted fragilely out of the mortal dust of the afternoon. On the pure parting of her lips no breath hovered; he had never seen a texture pale and immaculate as her skin, lustrous and garish as her eyes. His own well-ordered per- son seemed for the first time in his life gross and well worn to him as he knelt suddenly at the heart of freshness. “Where do you live?” he asked. The Bronx, perhaps Yonkers, Albany—Baffin’s Bay. They could curve over the top of the world, drive on forever. Then she spoke, and as the toad words vibrated with life in her voice, the moment passed: “‘ Eas’ Hun’erd thuyty- thuyd. Stayin’ with a girl friend there.” They were waiting for a traffic light to change and she exchanged a haughty glance with a flushed man peering from a flanking taxi. The man took off his hat hilariously. “Somebody's stenog,”’ he cried. “‘And oh, what a stenog!”’ An arm and hand appeared in the taxi window and pulled him back into the darkness of the cab. Miss Delehanty turned to Jacob, a frown, the shadow of a hair in breadth, appearing between her eyes. ‘A lot of “em know me,” she said. “‘ We got a lot of publicity and pictures in the paper.” “‘T’m sorry it turned out badly.” She remembered the event of the afternoon, apparently for the first time in half an hour. “She had it comin’ to her, mister. She never had a chance. But they’ll never send no woman to the chair in New York State.” “No; that’s sure.” “‘She’ll get life.” Surely it was not she who had spoken. The tranquillity of her face made her words separate them- selves from her as soon as they were uttered and take on a corporate existence of their own. “Did you use to live with her?’ “Me? Say, read the papers! I didn’t even know she was my sister till they come and told me. I hadn’t seen her since I was a baby.”’ She pointed suddenly at one of the world’s largest department stores. ‘‘There’s where I work. Back to the old pick and shovel day after to- morrow.” “It’s going to be a hot night,” said Jacob. “‘ Why don’t we ride out into the country and have dinner?” She looked at him. His eyes were polite and kind. “ All right,”’ she said. Jacob was thirty-three. Once he had possessed a tenor voice with destiny in it, but laryngitis had despoiled him of it in one feverish week ten years before. In despair that concealed not a little relief, he bought a plantation in Florida and spent five years turning it into a golf course. When the land boom came in 1924 he sold his real estate for eight hundred thousand dollars. August 20, 1927 Like so many Americans, he valued things rather than cared about them. His apathy was neither fear of life nor was it an affectation; it was the racial violence grown tired. It was a humorous apathy. With no need for money, he had tried—tried hard—for a year and a half to marry one of the richest women in America. If he had loved her, or pretended to, he could have had her; but he had never been able to work himself up to more than the formal lie. In person, he was short, trim and handsome. Except when he was overcome by a desperate attack of apathy, he was unusually charming; he went with a crowd of men who were sure that they were the best of New York and had by far the best time. During a desperate attack of apathy he was like a gruff white bird, ruffled and annoyed, and disliking mankind with all his heart. He liked mankind that night under the summer moon- shine of the Borghese Gardens. The moon was a radiant egg, smooth and bright as Jenny Delehanty’s face across the table, a salt wind blew in over the big estates collecting flower scents from their gardens and bearing them to the road-house lawn. The waiters hopped here and there like pixies through the hot night, their black backs disappearing into the gloom, their white shirt fronts gleaming startlingly out of an unfamiliar patch of darkness. They drank a bottle of champagne and he told Jenny Delehanty a story. ‘‘You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he said, “‘but as it happens you are not my typeand I have no designson youat all. Nevertheless, you can’t go back to that store. Tomorrow I’m going to arrange a meeting between you and Billy Farrelly, who's directing a picture on Long Island. Whether he’ll see how beautiful you are I don’t know, because I’ve never intro- duced anybody to him before.” There was no shadow, no ripple of a change in her ex- pression, but there was irony in her eyes. Things like that had been said to her before, but the movie director was never available next day. Or else she had been tactful enough not to remind men of what they had promised last night. “Not only are you beautiful,” continued Jacob, “but you are somehow on the grand scale. Everything you do yes, like reaching for that glass, or pretending to be self- conscious, or pretending to despair of me—gets across. If somebody’s smart enough to see it, you might be something of an actress.” “‘T like Norma Shearer the best. Do you?” Driving homeward through the soft night, she put up her face quietly to be kissed. Holding her in the hollow of his arm, Jacob rubbed his cheek against her cheek’s soft- ness and then looked down at her for a long moment. ‘Such a lovely child,’’ he said Delehanty, sitting in car. ‘Go jump —in—the ae river. The nary force of her ad- Jac ob's extraordi- vice was such that regretted the limitations of her vocabulary. Not only did it evoke an un- happy journalist hurling himself into but it Jacob Jacot image of the the Hudson convinced that it was the only fitting and adequate way of disposing of the man. Leaving face stiny, the his ar moved off down the street with him pretty well,” Jacob said ‘Sure,’ she mitted “T get s after a while then I can deal anybody no matter who How old would think I was?” ‘*‘How old are gravely. She smiled back at him; her hands played convention- ally with the lapels of his coat. “I had a wonderful time,” whispered. I hope I never have to go to court again.” ‘*T hope don’t.” ** Aren’t ing to kiss me good she “*Geeze! you you go- night?” “This is Neck,’’ he “that we’re passing through. A lot of moy\ stars live Great said, ing-picture here.”’ “You're a card, handsome.” “Why?” She shook her head from side to side and smiled. “You're a card.” She saw then that he was a type wit! which she was not acquainted. Hewas surprised, not flat- tered, that thought him droll She saw that what ever his she eventual! wanted “IT Like You Better Than Any Guy I Ever Met"’ purpose he nothing of her now.

Page 7

Jenny Delehanty learned quickly; she let herself become grave and sweet and quiet as the night, and as they rolled over Queensboro Bridge into the city she was half asleep against his shoulder. wm E CALLED up Billy Farrelly next day. ‘I want to see you,” he said. “I found a girl I wish you'd take a look at.” “My gosh!” said Farrelly. ‘You're the third today.” “Not the third of this kind.” “All right. If she’s white, she can have the lead in a picture I’m starting Friday.” “‘ Joking aside, will you give her a test?” “T’m not joking. She can have the lead, I tell you. I'm sick of these lousy actresses. I’m going out to the Coast next month. I'd rather be Con- stance Talmadge’s water boy than own most of these young ” His voice was bitter with Irish disgust. “Sure, bring her over, Jake. I'll take a look at her.” Four days later, when Mrs. Choyn- ski, accompanied by two deputy sheriffs, had gone to Auburn to pass the remainder of her life, Jacob drove Jenny over the bridge to As- toria, Long Is- land. “You've got to have anew name,” he said; “and re- member, you never had asister.”’ “T thought of that,’’ she an- awered. ‘*] thought of a name too — Tootsie De- foe.”’ “‘That’s rot- ten,” he laughed; *‘just rotten.” ‘*Well, you think of one if you're so smart.” ‘“‘How about Jenny—Jenny oh, anything Jenny Prince?” ALT vient, handsome.” Jenny Prince walked up the steps of the motion-picture studio, and Billy Farrelly, in a bit- ter Irish humor, in contempt for him- self and his profes- sion, engaged her “You are the Most Beautiful Thing I Have Ever Seen,’’ He Said, ‘‘But as it Happens, for one of the three leads in his picture. “They’re all the same,”’ he said to Jacob. ‘‘Shucks! Pick ’em up out of the gutter today and they want gold plates tomorrow. I'd rather be Constance Talmadge’s water boy than own a harem full of them.” “Do you like this girl?”’ “*She’s all right. She’s got a good side face. But they’re all the same.” Jacob bought Jenny Prince an evening dress for a hun- dred and eighty dollars and took her to the Lido that night. He was pleased with himself, and excited. They both laughed a lot and were happy. ‘Can you believe you’re in the movies?”’ he demanded “They'll probably kick me out tomorrow. It was too easy hologically. o, it wasn’t. It was very good—psy: y Farrelly was in just the one mood ” “T liked him.” “‘He’s fine,”” agreed Jacob. But he was reminded that already another man was helpi g to open doors for her +f success. ‘‘He’s a wild Irishman— look out for } could do, and I was beholden to it.”’ Entertainers appeared and her away from him. She was so young “What?” “I don’t mean he wanted to make me, handsome. Bu he’s got that look about him, She distorted her |] ‘em; you could tell They drank a bottle juice Presently the head waiter “This is Miss Jenny Prince lot of her, Lorenzo, with the pictures. sible respect.” When Lorenzo had withdrawn, the nicest eyes I ever seen.”’ I know. You can tell when a guy wants to make y THE SATURDAY EVENING POST i you Know what I me a wise smile He Ke yy . er to the table Ja t You ‘ signed a big ntra and I Have No Designs on You at Ali"’ arm lightly. **Be good,” he sai so proud of you gether.” ‘I always have a good time with you.” Her face repeated herself, ‘‘the nicest eyes I ever seen. Any girl would be glad to have eyes like yours.” He laughed, but he was touched. “Work hard and I'll be was serious and sad. ‘‘Honest,”’ she His har d cove red he r some good times to full on his, in his, held there like hands. Her voice wa clear and dry. ‘“‘ Honest, I’m not kidding about your eye You always think I’m kidding. I want to thank you for al you've done for me.’ “‘T haven’t done anything, you lunatic. I saw your face f youth before he voung le ur I was beholden to it everybody ought to be wandered hungr You are Not My Type Her eyes were at y ( ar ‘ wv t r t ign ? He her ha ily Ke rY » mu champagne efor I was tigh su near m me ave y What » yo ( Let a the ( f ’ erker ma yi ) ( whnene er t é Nant Oh. shut un! the ode it silence Then her ur rept acros + } | ke you vetter thar any that, can I? ‘Dear ittle - ’ i hé y H put } arm ar« d he igalr tatively, he Kissed € 1e@yY it f contact looked be yond him out into the darkness of the night, the dark was somet ing tie ne rt: at the moment when she should realize that enormously,”’ he sald; “betterthar almost anyone | y r ; | repeated, looking He rode away in a mood of exultation, living more deeply ‘Anvthing it and he kis ed t ed in himss f e on | a } along dark street il he ild not foreté Oa taxicab wit Farre address to the drive said Farré ple ‘ iim not ) ) nt i to ave he I rea y t tola me ne

Page 8

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 FUROR BRITANNIC CHOOSE Mr. Wells—H. G. Wells—as my hero for reasons I will immediately explain, although nowadays it is possible to choose anyone of threescore others, from Aldous Huxley, who parts his mind in the middle, te Gilbert Chesterton, who Mr. Wells is suffering from a form of monomania. The particular monomania with which he is afflicted has been for a century or more so common among his countrymen as to be, until recently, hardly worthy of note. One has sighed and regarded it asinevitable. But lately this monomania has taken a dangerous turn, and in Mr. Wells’ case it is different anyhow. To begin with, on so many subjects and for so many years, he has been right, and to end with, by temperament he is better fitted than most to un- derstand the American seene. Did he but know it, he is the most American of English writers. When a person like Mr. Wells becomes affected, it is a sign of a national point of view so pervasive, so in- creasing, that intelligent and stupid are alike caught up by it. If this continues, even Hugh Walpole, one of the few friends we have left, may be counted upon to issue egregious statements; and that most court2ous of men, John Galsworthy, may take to hurling jelly at the heads of his American hostesses after the fashion of still another British author of some note. Once a nation starts to enlarge a prejudice against another, there is no telling where the prejudice will end. Folly feeds on folly. Folly becomes fashiona- ble, imperative; a question of catchwords and re- peated fables. We have seen a century during which England, the most powerful of nations, has been hated on a basis mostly of lies; we are beginning a century, perhaps two or more, when America will be hated in the same way and for the same reason. International phobias, well started, do not die. It appears to be now, for instance, as necessary for a right-thinking Englishman mentally to kick a Frenchman as, in 1914, it was necessary mentally to kiss him. Mutual respect is no longer imperative for mutual safety. And the Frenchman replies by a grinning contempt. A form of fanged and slobbering nonsense, of There is never a valid reason for such hatreds. No excuses save old wives’ tales and su- perstitions and deliberate, or ignorant, misconcep- tions. The articulate Englishman, therefore, has need to exercise care. Despite Mr. Wells and the newer school of transatlantic critics, Americans are hu- man. They have feelings, even if these feelings, according to this school, are crude. Americans are mammals. Their blood is hot. The American woman still suckles her young. One and all, they bleed if you prick them. If you find yourself cherishing, for any other people as a whole, contempt or a sense of superiority or dark anger, look to yourself, for on that side of you, you are becoming a fool. wears it pompadour. course, The Theory of Monstrosity JUT let Mr. Wells do his own talking. He has been doing it for almost half a century. He is probably the most adept exhibitionist alive today. Nobody can explain him a quarter as well as he can explain himself. And mark the gist of his theory as it unfolds itself, for that is one of the minor points. It might be called ‘the theory of mon- strosity,’’ and the psychological reasons for it are plain. It ; no longer possible to look down on America materially or politically or financially, or in most other ways, unless you happen to be a Cyril Norwood, headmaster of Harrow chool, to whom | will refer later, but since you can’t look down on America in these ways, you must find other ways to look down upon her; and above all, you must give rea- ; sons why, even in the ways you can't look down upon her, you don’t want to be like her. You must inter- pret this abnormal —_——_ Ge /-x \ * ie ay A ees “ ¥ , ave y By Struthers Burt ILLUSTRATED Br WYNCIE KING Pet The American as the Englishman Sees Him increase in power so that it leaves you, as a European, satisfied. And abnormal it must be, since Americans are not Europeans and normal things do not happen outside of Europe. Very little happens outside of Europe except African war dances and Hindus and mysterious Chinese who are acting very much as Cromwell did in the seven- teenth century. Here, then, is Mr. Wells talking on Page 323 of his latest book, The World of William Clissold. Mr. Wells, talking in the person of Richard, older brother of William, for, despite the introduction, in which the common error of identifying the hero of a novel, or the other characters, with the author of the novel is dwelt upon, Mr. Wells can- not help being a most personal author. Undoubtedly most of the incidents in The World of William Clissold are ficti- tious. At all events, we can accept their creator’s word for it. But it is an innocent soul who cannot find, when it comes to argument, to theorizing, Mr. Wells himself peer- ing out from behind the effigies he has set up. He enjoys debate too much to allow figments of the mind to steal his pleasure. “Billy,” says Richard—or Dickon, according to the odious English custom of overly affectionate nicknames “Billy, why are Americans, ali Americans, Americans without exception, such mysteries to us? European race. More often than not our race. Our language.’’ Thank you, Mr. Wells! Quite liberal and un-English, although afterward you contradict it. “Conditions after all very like ours. A bigger country, of course. A different pace. Difference of phase. But while you seem to get English- men and Frenchmen all around and through and through, half an American is in a loud glare and the other half is darkness. It is like seeing things by the beam of a searchlight after you have been seeing them in a light that is soft and gray and generally diffused. “That’s it, perhaps, Billy. A profound difference in their publicity, using publicity in its widest sense. From the way that a child gets looked at and talked about, onward. They’re lit up differently, inside and out. And what is life but a consequence of illumina- tion? When you goto America and see headlines and interviews with a girl about her engagement, or with a professor about his resignation, you at first say, ‘Good God. There’s no privacy here at all!’ And then you discover that outside that crude, cheap, hasty, flat, misleading lighting up of salient objects and events, there’s abysses of darkness, immense pits where much goes on and nothing is exposed and people, rich people especially, unobserved in them, and doing the most extraordinary things. “In Europe a man may have a private life, yes, but in America he has a secret life, lit by sudden shouting judgments and flashes of journalistic light- ning. In which you get an impression — vivid enough but wrong. And other things come out with a kind of scream, all out of proportion by our standards It’s because of that, Billy, that to our European senses Americans never seem quite real. The quality of the exposure, the method of illumination to which they have had to adapt themselves, account for nearly everything between us. That sort of watch- ful reserve they have, mixed up with a desire to make general, oversimplified explanations of them- selves. The queerness of these grayish-faced, slow- speaking Americans in gray, who watch your face as they talk to you! If the searchlight jumps around upon them they are ready all the time. They talk about themselves as we never do.”’ Hiding Behind Autobiography H, MR. WELLS! Come, come. You as the au- thor of —well, you know—a hundred books or so about Mr. Wells. And what about the queer English fashion of frank, brutal statements concerning par- ents and families? The English fashion of complete divulgement of private sins? The Englishman who invariably says, ‘‘Well, I’m this sort of a man, y’see ” And, coming back to you once more, how about your own passion for oversimplified explana- tions, both of yourself and things in general, as in the present quotation? ‘‘They try and hide their nakedness behind autobiographical statements. They instance themselves as types. They snatch suddenly at your verdict upon them. They have none of our sense of sustained scrutinies and slowly maturing judgments; none at all.” For a while Dickon is compressed. Dickon is given: “He sized up the prospects of a world under American leadership. Were the Americans producing an American mind that would be large-thinking and powerful enough for the whole world? In certain things they were broader minded than Europeans. The United States had always been more curious and intelligent about China and Eastern Asia, for example, and more restrained in its imperialism. It had been far ahead of the European intelligence in its grasp of the importance of a properly regulated currency and credit system to economic life. It had got currency into politics long before Europe suspected there was such a thing as a currency riddle. But, nevertheless, it was shallow. All its energy—and its energy was tremendous seemed to be on the surface. Woodrow Wilson was typical of the American quality that perplexed us. The idea of some great settlement of world affairs, some world peace organization, was magnificent. Quite beyond the scope of the European outlook or the compass of European statesmanship. One saw the United States leading the world into a new age. Then, for the realization of that vi sion, the Fourteen Points, as trite and su- perficial as a magazine article. “And after that— America the creditor.”” The essence of

Page 9

es a aa 7 Dickon is / quoted again in / whole. Dickon, or Mr. Wells. / And in all hon- esty one must admit that Dickon, or Mr. Wells, ends in a surprising burst of fair- ness and good sense. There are streaks of light in the blackness of Mr. Wells’ mono- mania. “*And while we sit here asking,’ says Dickon, ‘can the Americans develope a world mind and lead the world?’ there may be just such another pair of brothers as we are, Billy, in Indianapolis or Chicago saying, ‘Why don’t the Europeans show a sign of a world mind?’ I believe our sort of ideas are fermenting in the world everywhere. We're not such original chaps as to be very far from the general trail. What brings us here will bring others here. And Americans most of all. ' “It’s just that we don’t know about them. They aren’t talking yet. a Certainly, Dickon. And, no, you and William are not startlingly original. What made you so quaintly think you even ever a little were? w (oo a \ There are scores of such brothers, or maybe merely cousins or ac- quaintances; and they are talking —talking con- } tinuously. So, too, are reviews and newspapers and committees and organizations. Although Indian- apolis and Chicago are not especially happy choices as localities. The first is just at present terribly preoccupied with the Ku-Klux Klan—our form of Fascism—and the latter is busy with gunmen and | Mayor Thompson, while both have always be- longed to the Middle West, which, of all parts of America, is the most self-contained and the least likely to be interested in international affairs. But as for America as a whole, it is indeed the most likely country to develop first a world mind, not only for a reason I will give later on but because, unbelievable as it may seem, it is the only coun- try which does not cherish an especial hatred for anyone else. Prejudices, yes; ignorances, yes; but not especial hatreds. You see, you have to know America fairly intimately to criticize it at all. Dickon, however, if you remember the book, was suffering from influenza. No wonder he saw long processions of grayish-faced, slow-speaking Amer- icans. Once when I had influenza in Germany mil- lions of fantastic Germans goosestepped for hours across the bottom of my bed. But Mr. Wells in person is not suffering from influenza in an article | of his which appeared in the New York Times of May 15, 1927. He is vigorous, clear-eyed, mistaken and temerous. He praises us because recently we have taken to criticizing ourselves. Criticism is good for the soul; is a sign of increasing maturity. | Quite so. But not aberrational criticism. Some- what naively, the article is entitled, Wells Assays | the Culture of America. ‘ Vices and Virtues Have No Geography | MAGINE assaying the culture of a country of this size in three thousand words! Imagine as- | saying the culture of any country in three thousand words. Imagine any great English journal asking an American, or anyone else for that matter, to assay the culture of England. In that respect we are indeed still youthful. And here, lest my tones belie me, let me state that I am not passionate. I do not really care very much what Mr. Wells thinks—- Mr. Wells or any other European critic. International arguments are amusing if they do not become too bitter. Nor am I using the old method of the pot and the kettle as a mere vulgar tu quoque. I am using it in the hope that some European may see the point. The longer I live the more I find that human beings have much in common and that human society is lateral and not perpen- —— dicular. By that ‘ [do not mean to imply that Amer- ica is not produc- / ing a civilization of its own—for it is or that Europe has not an produced a civilization of its own— for it has or that climate, cir- cumstances, distances do not count. But fundamental human vices and virtues are and human sympathies, save in times of much t! War, é THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ire muctl more a question of especial professions or environments than they are of nations stance, has much more to say to the Englis he has to the American actress; the gently The American e gineer, f engineer k d Ame ar gets along extremely well with the gently bred Dane. N can you turn any race of men into monsters. Monsters, if there are such things, and men do not breed. Monsters are a species apart And so we can get back to Mr. Wells and his article. It is impossible to quote it in full, as in the case of the saying of Dickon in The World of William Clissold, but altogether clearly the main points come out America is crude. America is arid. The Ame n ise is doubtful. And then, as in William Clissold, again the theory t which I have referred the theory that America, althoug! it has become a great and powerful! nation, s producing a civilization— if you can call it that? In the European mind The Englishman as the American Sees Him there is always the question, “if you can call it that?” a civilization that is unnatural, inhuman, mechanical! bloodless. A civilization of swarming motor cars and minds and spirits that do not function. A civilization of robots although Mr. Wells does not believe in robots And to prove his points Mr. Wells has taken not believe it--as his prophets, Sinclair Lewis, Sherwood Anderson and Theodore Dreiser; and as his textbooks Babbitt, Elmer Gantry and An : Rep- resentative books, he calls them. Yes, and according to | notion, the only sort of American books that are represent- ative. Quaint, isn’t it? It is exactly as if an Americar in the days when Mr. Bennett and Mr. Wells were the most popular English writers in America, should have judged all England by the Five Towns and Mr. Polly, or as if ar American today should judge all England by D. H. Law rence and Thomas Burke. Or, to go back a while, as if ar American should judge all Victorian England by the gro tesques of Dickens. “The first quality that impresses the European,” says Mr. Wells, “* books rey eal and you w f is the abounding vigor of the social life these The next is its immense crudity and, hard or a 3 iriet Y tu ind the abse oO; ‘ — 1W ‘ ese | seen t r ime t y é é them} é ‘ dioms.’ Ha ‘ ist rere house Nights, I ret Ist Eng me r ‘ pium a ave 10 W t te ( n¢ é And having t reread Pickw Papers, I Isn't it yw ro it 1 rd English gr athe were?” Let me t wn two in ¢ ery intellige Frenct eacdt these epresentat e } ivs M We furthe rhe first impre 1 e of t “ f eedon rY ement 1 tne estiessr of these ymmon people Y vith th pte mited ‘ of their I irope é livaients i ext d the stronger was the extreme thinness a poverty ¢ tne mental ile We were n the pre ence of a people with no dept} nversation at They had no variety nor penetration in the cussion. They had no poetry whatever. The gid not seem to Know the names o! observed any birds, flowers, miner things A Triumph of Diplomacy i had not metaphors but horribly bent and flattened by They betrayed nothing a Europear | as religion and no general ideas of ar revivalism was the cheapest, sha mass emotion. They knew nothir ing phrases KC@SSiVe USE wuld recognize V sort I f iowest orgy g of any litera | ture. They read so badly that their news had to be shouted at them from the tops of columns. The | poverty of their language was amazing. The lover wrung to ecstasy m ght say ‘My, but you ar | cute!’ The phrase for all occa ms seemed to he | ‘That gets me!’ “*My French observer insi t here was | people degenerating, worn h back to speecl lessness and brutishness. We had a long argument hecause I am still a backer of the United States”’ Thank you again, Mr. Wells!-—‘‘and in the end we both gave ground. I had to grant the flattening and cheapening of the language, but it was argua ble that that is a phase. Two-thirds of the names in Dreiser’s books were Centr ‘ Faster European names. These people were newcome | they had left Polish and Yiddish or German behind | them, and the names of flowers and legend and | metaphor had also been left behind. There had been a vast mental attrition during the process ol | transplantation to a new soil. No real attempt had been made to assimilate them to any conceivable American culture.”” No more than any attempt has } been made to assimilate to any conceivable English culture the swarming aliens of Lor ’s East End | or the Irish of Liverpool, or the workers of Glas gow And then Mr. Wells concludes with this extraor dinary hodgepodge In whicn there not the slight _ est assimilation of any kind The common schools of America are on the whole not as good as those of Brit and Germany whereas they ought to be four times bette A postulatior which assumes that Americans are not only inhuman but irchangels American children are not made to go chool as regi y as the children of Western Europe. The Fundamentalist controversy proves that vast areas of the United States are mentally twenty year behind Westerr Europe. Our universities do not function. Our commo people do not read, because our boo ire too expensive He quotes Henry James, that very great artist and ex lent psychol ogist ilthougl y? whe ul (a4 h and ilt } . i t j ‘ ) 4 ed a « / \ q divorced from his owr ‘ Ki \ ountry, so little under A} \\ standing it, that he a \ 2 .\ abandoned } tizen ) = \ WA hip when, for three a ~ Continued on a WS Page 106 Liem

Page 10

THE Mal 6 ae aaa SATURDAY EVENING POST JEILIBOW JRO August 20,1927 By Klugh MacNair Kahler FEetECve Ta AT EB DS Br ERNES TFT F UHR He Helped Load the Mitk Cans and Climbed Up to the Seat Beside Lucy McNaughten With a Dim Sense of Adventure, NE of the three brothers had passed this way before. The others, with their wives and children and the lean old grandsire, deferred to him as in some sense the leader of the party—as guide, rather—for, on the road, they had each discovered a stiffening quality of independ- ence that made them less than ever patient of restraint and bidding He had bought the state lands toward which they toiled, but these had been already partitioned between the three and they had shared alike in the costs of the journey, the building of the flatboat and the provision of tools and seed and food which were all their burden. As they worked their way up the wide shallow river they drew more and more into three groups, the two married sons and their families holding apart from one another and from the widowed grandfather and the bachelor guide. Sometimes, where the river slowed and smoothed, they used long clumsy sweeps against the current, with the horses and oxen aboard; more of the time the cattle drew the boat upstream, plodding along the rough trail broken There were portages around rapids and low falls, where the flatboat was unloaded and dragged on rollers through the woods. Every mile of all the journey a price in the sweating toil of beast and man; y labored farther and farther into the wilderness, the vague blue hills of the horizon neared and lifted, their pace quickened and a kind of cold fury whipped their bodies to the multiplying demands of the harsher trail. Here and there, pausing for a night at some trader’s earing, they would be offered wide lands at easy prices, metimes for no price at all, for even in the wilderness ere were men who wanted neighbors and stood willing to e and wheedle for the sake of company. ne of these offers tempted. The blue hills drew on the along the water’s edge. Was won a ‘ wrope now more stoutly than the yoked oxen. Even the bent st oulders s traightened a little at the sight Watching Her as She Skilifully Backed and Turned of them, and he found strength of a man’s full task beside his tall sons. So at last they came to the head of naviga- tion, where they sold the boat to the trader for a thrifty price in stores, built a stout box for the wagon wheels they had brought with them and struck off boldly toward the hills. It was late June when they reached their lands, and the wheat was yellow in the Indian clearing where the bachelor son had planted it last fall. They cradled it before they built their first crude shelters. The pioneer had felled enough of the tall pines for a house. With their grain stacked, they adzed the straight trunks rudely square and heaved them up for the four walls, chinked with clayed straw and plastered within with whitewashed clay. They split cedar shingles and roofed it in, built a great stone chimney at one end, with a bake oven at its foot; they dug and lined a well and built a shelter for their livestock. By the first snowfall they were housed and provisioned against winter like a garrison under siege. Snow locked them in, three families under one narrow roof, but there was no quarreling and little talk. Work drove them all—the endless need of firewood, the care of the housed cattle, the threshing of their wheat with flails and its grinding in the crude hand mill. Game was thick and they hunted it dourly for food and fur. They built stout furniture of pine and oak, and a hand loom that half filled the loft. Except for one of the children, they lived through handily to spring. By then the logs were cut and curing for two other houses and the land about the chosen sites was clear for plowing. Before the second winter each of the married sons dwelt under his own roof and the bachelor and the old man shared another, doing for themselves, except that they traded some of their wheat for homespun clothes woven and sewed by the women. One of the brothers cobbled shoes for them all from home-tanned cowhide; and when their stock of shot and powder dwindled, the bachelor rode down to the trading post for a fresh supply, and came back with tea, besides, and a newspaper that set forth the terms of the treaty by which Great Britain recognized the independence of the thirteen states. Except for his going and coming on this journey, the trail by which they had won to their glen was not traveled that year or the next. Sometimes, as he rested his old body from the lighter tasks that fell to him, the patriarch would lift his eyes to the notch in the sky line where the trail fol- lowed the brook into the upland valley and a gray light would kindle in them. ‘*Guess we came far enough,” he would say. The years moved over them. The trail became a high- way for Conestoga wagons, jolting westward along the south flank of the hill; the canal was built up the steep slant to carry down the white-pine timber for which, in- stead of burning it to clear new plowland, a man might now take a price in money; the miracle of the railroad drew a straight gash across the hillside and a little town grew up about the gristmill; the floor of the valley was under cultivation to its final acre and the farm lands had climbed up over the summits of the hills. Still there was room and to spare, and the farmsteads lay apart along the web of yellow roads—decent houses, built of the money that the timber had brought back into the glen. Towns beyond the rim of the hills grew into cities There was a market now for surplus grain and wool and meat, and no need for the tanning vats and spinning wheels and clacking hand looms. A man could turn his time and toil to better profit than in retting his own flax for home- loomed linen. For a trivial price in grain, for instance, a city mill a thousand miles away would weave stout cloth enough for all the family. It would have been the bargain of a fool to stand by the old ways, and there were few fools in the glen.

Page 11

It prospered soberly and solidly through those genera- tions. There was cheap labor to be hired, so that a man with land could sit his horse and superintend his gangs paying a dollar for a day’s work, between suns, and taking a decent profit on the fruit of it. There was money in the village bank; sons and daughters went down out of the hills to schools and colleges, and stories of the drifted back—tales to which the glen gave contented ear without surprise or envy. Restless youngsters drifted r successes away, here and there a waster or incompetent lost his in- heritance; but mostly the strain ran true, and son followed father in decent industry and thrift and comfortable pros- perity. It was a far cry now to the old day. There were tales, to be sure, of old Alexander and his sons, and surviving land- marks that bore witness to their truth. The first house that they built still stood on the edge of the Indian clearing, Most of the older homesteads had brick smokehouses and great the adz marks clear to see in the hewed timbers iron soap kettles; here and there, in an old loft, you could find bits of whittled white oak that must have been parts of home-built looms. Women clicked tongues and wagged commiserating heads at the lot of the wives who had spun and woven, sewed and washed and cooked and nursed and mothered in their pioneer cabins, but even in these softer days there was little time for i« lI e talk. Machinery lightened the labor of the fields; even old men forgot the use of scythe and cradle and flail and hand rake. A single man on the iron seat of a reaper could cut more wheat than a dozen better workmen could have handled in the older times. For a little the country profited; the surplus labor drifted down over the hills to the sprawling towns that fattened in the reek of factories, and the wage of those who stayed rose slowly, so that employers grum- bled. Mysteriously, too, prices fell, not sharply or per- manently, but year after year a little lower than they had been, so that even with machines a man somehow found himself with less profit at the year’s end than his father had earned without them. Andaman needed money. Old Alexander McNaughten and his sons had found small use for it in their day. They could trade grain and meat to trappers for skins and barter these for tea and powder—even pay their tiny taxes in such currency; but now there were a hundred things to buy—all a man’s clothing, the wages of his hands, his gear for house and farm, a growing share even of his foodstuff. It did not pay to spend time and strength on a garden, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST resuit in vegetables ar fruit I ] ears succeeded, years that siow tarve the dwir ng garrison of the hills to surrender ar les Men di not unae tand the torce i ive i r ‘ the knew only that the wage of | te ive teadily, till it was less than nothing, till only a mount debt repaid bone-cracking labor and desperate thrift. | generations they hung or stening hopefu mouthed, ranting prophets who preached strange g the Government would print more paper mone more silver, there would be enough for everybody ti were ‘ or were f ‘ tru ¢ curbed or } ed f eve he oine the Grange ¢ Alliance —and all the while taxes rose and income less¢ every year a few boys and girls drifted down to the towr a few old me omen watched their goods sold at auction, a few more acres were abandoned t slow return of scrubby woods And yet, always, wages rose—rose until no landowner could afford to hire help. The old foundry in the village which had once built simple farm machinery had long since given up a hopeless fight against huge distant rival but its four walls stood, and a New York firm reopened it to manufacture metal specialties, paying unheard-of wages for an absurd eight-hour day of easy work, sitting before a clattering machine. Even at twice the pay, nobody but fool would choose, instead, to sweat in the heat-wrinkled blaze of the harvest field or choke in the dust of threshing If old Alexander McNaughten could have come back to his glen he would have felt at home there. i HE Sunday drivers had been quick to discover that the new concrete road was open. Its broad smooth ribbon rang to the cheerful spurn of their tires and the raw pine shanties along the way sold many bottles of soft drinks There was a fringe of litter in every patch of shaded turf; the shaggy orchards yielded, for the mere trouble of brea} ing a few limbs, great clumps of fragile blossom, something to carry home to the flat in proof and token of a Sunday in the country. At first, as his motorcycle swooped magnificently past these more deliberate cars, Link Danby found a certain pleasure in their presence on the road. It spiced his sense of speed and power and flight to shoot up behind a scudding flivver and swerve about it with a jeering clamor of open itfee r i y i go y ng t ‘ ‘ ‘ ple r ed Tr ( t ea i ‘ e so ‘ ‘ at ir t 4 r t t t t >t the dowr a cle ‘ \ ‘ 2 ances ( ere rn r Y is e te ry ‘ A ‘ ot T ‘ aia who w , n't whe one wa W ‘ then By noo ‘ i { ere ete ( ‘ ge ¢ t ’ ‘ er ‘ t ‘ A st ofr ar ‘ lg ane Y ‘ or na r ur ‘ yi ut ar swooped ir atier t y r ] matter whe ne went I i gor na More s & % ) 0 t e eX ny, na He me aw t \ act i nteres the roadside ect mye ‘ 4A pace that pe mitted him to regara There was noth ng unusua wmout the young woods or the open heids and larmsteads that separated them, but he had them more to himself, and t} ense of privacy pleased him. He ed, too, the unexpected quality of the road. It mbed toward a succt ( 1 crest ea \ nm cor lered from be W, Seer y i immit, so at e Wa perpetually irprised to tind another gentle siope lifting between him and the sky. Turns gave him glimpses of the deepening and widening gulf be nd Y river a bright twisting stripe, the crawling t f ads Hesiad is minute and ilous a e feve irry of ar ar He discovered a pleasing sense of superiority, a birdlike compassion for things that moved sluggishly on a tame leve Each new rise that confronted him held invitatic rather than challenge and he roared on upward wit a“ mounting exhilaration. The road was empt only ones was he obliged to share it, swerving past a clumsy far wagon that labored up a grade, great awkward horses to ing at every thrusting stride Continued on Page 78 ‘I’ve Got Some of the Linen Yet That My Great:Grandmother Wove on This Thing; She Made the Bedspread in the Spare Room on it Too

Page 12

10 ‘ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Paris un went By HORATIO WINSLOW E’D be a card,” said young Burlew, coming into the stateroom slightly before midnight and waking me up, as was his habit. “‘ Yes, sir, I bet money if you could just get him a little bit blotto he’d be a card. But how’s it gonna be done?” Taking off one shoe, he paused, presumably for encouragement. ‘Last year an old aluminum visited the frat and it was terrible. The bunch put it up to me to make him human. He wouldn’t touch anything alcoholic, so I finally got him with some stuff I says was double lemonade made out of wild lemons. Did he get blotto? I'll say hedid. And he was acard. And this bird Wingle would be a card, too, if I could just get him started. But how?” He removed the other Oxford. “Tonight, Mr. Reynolds, I almost herded this bird Wingle into the café. ‘You don’t have to drink,’ I says. ‘Just sit down and talk.’ But at the last minute he was afraid the smoke in the air would hurt his effi- And when I remember what he’s ciency. thinking of doing Young Mr. Burliew paused. Incautiously I aroused myself enough to ask, ‘ What is he thinking of doing?”’ ‘What? Why, he’s gonna see Paris on a schedule. Think of that! A schedule in Paris! I been over three times and I never heard of anything like it. And I’ve seen his schedule and it’s just museums and churches and publie buildings and all like that. Nothing interesting on the list. I tried to tell him he was missing the best part of Paris, but he just looked at me. I'd give a year’s growth just to get this bird Wingle reasonably blotto and kick a hole in his schedule. Take it from me, he'd be a card.” In the abstract, I have no objection to youth, but when a man approaches the middle years and is recovering from a threatened nervous breakdown and is, at the same time, enjoying a touch of seasickness and business worries, youth, particularly when it is a cabin mate on an ocean voyage, grates on the system: Young Mr. Burlew did not extract any more comments from me, and I went to sleep in the midst of his not unhabitual monologue, wherein he re- counted the ingenious ways and means he had employed in his efforts to put various antialcoholic persons of a ripe age into the blotto state It was not until the third day out that I personally en- countered Wingle. Burlew’s description had been so defi- nite that there was no mistaking the man. Mr. Wingle was making methodical circuits of the Heliaska’s deck, timing himself with a stop watch. Later I discovered that in his pocket he carried a pedometer. ‘*Twelve rounds more,’’ he confided, “‘will make two miles and sixty-five yards. I count seventeen min- utes and thirty seconds for the mile. Attention to regular exercise under all conditions is, I have found, an sential for efficient liv- ing.” I fell into step and we completed the twelve rounds together. As I remember it, our con- versation dealt exclu- sively with efficiency his discovery ten years before of a notable book on the subject, his im- mediate conversion and consequent rise in the world. From time to time we would pause while Wingle raised his arms and inhaled deeply, bending the knees to exhale. He was a small, grave man of perhaps thirty-five, whose face gained an es- He Saw Wingleinthe Act of Executing a Sailor's Hoernpipe ILLUSTRATED BY TONY SARG Wingle Rose From the Table and, Placing His Right Hand on His Heart, Drew Back His Right Leg and Bowed Like a Small Boy added dignity from a pair of thick, heavy-rimmed spec- tacles. I remember feeling I had never seen anybody quite so unsmiling and serious. And his air of intense con- viction in all he did robbed even the knee bending of any possible absurdity. “It is an integral part, Mr. Reynolds, of the system of physical culture I follow. Regularity and system are neces- sary if we wish to live efficiently. We need a schedule for all we do, and we need to stick to that schedule.” During the evening he showed me the scheme he had laid out for his vacation to be spent in Paris. It had been altered often, but always efficiently, from the first draft. His original ten weeks had been cut to seven, owing to the inability which the firm had found of filling his place. Various delays on the part of the Heliaska had nibbled away another week. But each time Wingle had rearranged his sight-seeing plans to eliminate the less important and to retain the cultural highlights. “Such as Napoleon’s Tomb, Reynolds. I saw no service myself during the great conflict, except for a few weeks at Camp Custer. Yet on November 11, 1918, when the Ar- mistice was announced, the tears came to my eyes. I was only a private, but I felt bitterly the fate that had kept me from doing my bit for the land which that supreme master of efficiency had made his own. And speaking of efficiency, Reynolds, it makes me sad when I see a young man like this young Burlew, who is now making his fourth trip to Paris, and who admits he has never done any worthwhile sight-seeing. When he speaks of his visit to the cultural treasure house of the world he closes his right eye and says, ‘No good will come of it.’ This attitude of modern youth irritates me, Reynolds. I offered him the opportunity to accompany me and see the best the great city has to offer, and to see it in an efficient manner, but he declined.” “Say, I gotta study efficiency myself,’’ confided young Burlew to me shortly before midnight. ‘‘ Yup, I gotta, if I ever expect to put anything over on this bird Wingle. You never saw anybody so suspicious. You'd think I was trying to poison him, and all I want to do is to see him comfort- ably blotto, because I think he’d be a card. But that baby won't even touch water if there’s ice in it. I suppose he smoked a cigarette once and now he’s off high jinks for life. But I'll get him yet.” Day by day, when he was not devoting himself to one of the young ladies aboard, Burlew watched the efficient Wingle like a hawk. From time to time he would shake his head in a discouraged manner, but always with dogged perseverance he concluded, “‘ Just the same, I’m gonna get this bird Wingle blotto if I’m hung for it. Honest.” Though not unamused by his efforts and by the resist- ance of the unsuspecting Wingle, my attention was cen- tered on graver matters. Shortly before the Heliaska sailed I had received a confidential letter from a lawyer friend regarding the Merchants & Farmers Bank in which my savings were deposited and where I wasemployed as one of the paying tellers. What was said in this letter, August 20,1927 volt Flours coupled with certain irregularities I myself had observed, led me to fear the worst. And the worst was revealed when the Heliaska Times—the daily paper published aboard announced in three lines the sensational discovery that had closed the front doors of the Merchants & Farmers Bank. This bad news completely wiped out the pleasure I had anticipated from my excur- sion to Paris. Under the circumstances, it seemed my duty to call off the trip and re- turn to the United States immediately. And since, owing to various delays, the Heliaska was to leave Havre some thirty- six hours after her arrival, I made up my mind to stay on board and continue to New York without even attempting to see Paris. As a matter of fact, I had no heart to do any sight-seeing, and more than once | wished that the nerve specialist who had ordered me abroad had, at the same time, ordered me to abstain from all intoxicatirg liquors. In my unhappy mood it would have been a pleasure to react violently and in the opposite direction. But he had said nothing at all on the subject, and when, on rare occasions, I ordered a little something, the result seemed tasteless. No doubt my downcast demeanor was evident, for the next day, our last at sea, Wingle managed to extract the whole story. “Reynolds, I’m genuinely sorry, but you may feel con- soled a bit to know that as far as seeing Europe is concerned I’m in the same boat. Last night my firm wirelessed that the two men who have been replacing me have fallen down on the job and I must return at once. It is hard, but effi- ciency demands it. So, like yourself, I am going back on the Heliaska. But first I intend to spend twenty-four hours seeing Paris. I have rearranged my schedule so that it includes the cultural cream of the great city. And, Reyn- olds, I want you to do the efficient thing and come along with me. It will do you good and you will return to Amer- ica feeling ready to face the world again.” In my distressed mood I was, no doubt, easy to convince, and shortly before we came to port I had, though without Carrying a Cane in the Manner of a Musket, He Watked Up and Down Before the Door Like a Sentry enthusiasm and rather against my will, agreed to accom- pany Wingle on his twenty-four-hour tour of Paris. In fact, I announced as much to young Burlew while packing my satchels. “I give up,” he said disconsolately. “‘I was gonna takea last desprit chance and knock around with this bird Wingle myself for a day. I think I could have got him. But a girl’s family I been chaperonin’ made me promise to see ’em to a hotel and I’m blocked.”’ He shook his head. “I did my best and I haven't lost hope altogether, be- cause I’m trying to put over a last little idea. But will it

Page 13

“I Certainly Have No Intention of Drinking Mine, Reynolds,” He Said in a Shocked Voice work—will it work?’’ His shoulders drooped. ‘‘ Just the same, if Wingle falls for my little plan, get ready to enjoy yourself, because he'll sure be a card.” Wingle and I arrived at the St.-Lazare station in Paris shortly before seven in the morning, some five hours after the boat docked at Havre. The last boat train for the re- turn trip of the Heliaska was to leave Paris at a quarter before eight on the following day. Thus we had a full twenty-four hours for our sight-seeing. The schedule which Wingle had arranged seemed to me adequate. Everything had been worked out to the last fraction of a minute, including possible waits and delays. In appending it here I omit all minor details, including time-table subdivisions: Exterior Louvre; Carrousel; Pavillon Sully; Place de la Concorde; Avenue des Champs-Elysées. 8:15 A.M. Tomb of Unknown Soldier 8:30 A.M. to 12:00 M. 7:30 A.M. Cour Carrée; Celebrated buildings and churches, in- cluding Palais de Justice; Conciergerie; Napoleon's Tomb; Sewers of Paris; Pantheon; Notre-Dame; Madeleine. Also buy souvenirs and postal cards and practice French phrases with guides. 12:00 mM 12:30 P.M. 12:30 P.M.—-6:30 P.M. valet; Pére-Lachaise Cemetery; Buy tickets > Francaise pieces In notebook. 6:30 P.M.—7:00 P.M. 00 P.M 8:30 P.M. Sainte souvenir menu. Luxembourg; Cluny; Louvre; Carna- Gobelins; Jardin des Plantes. impressions of master- Lunch at Foyot’s Coméd note pressed duck. Eiffel Dinner Tour d’Argent Exterior Opéra; Boulevards; Tower. Observe manners and customs. &:30 P.M.—11:30P.m. Comédie Francaise. Observe audience. 11:30 pP.mM.-—1:30 A.M Autobus seeing Paris. Follow with map 1:30 A.M.—-1:45 A.M. Notre-Dame by moonlight. 1:45 A.M.—-2:00 A.M. Seine by ditto. 2:00 a.M.—2:15 A.M. Boulevard St.-Michel. Student life. 2:15 a.m.—5:00 a.m. Les Halles. Detailed study great French market, asking questions, making point of efficiency. Souvenir mushrooms. 5:00 A.M.—7:15 A.M. Montmartre. Exterior. See early sun- rise over Paris. If time, descend on foot to St.-Lazare. 7:15 a.M. Breakfast. Train for Havre and the Heliaska. Last souvenirs. The schedule was thus pretty rigorously filled out, but Wingle considered it well within the limits of possibility if the underlying principles of efficiency were followed to the letter. On arriving, we breakfasted on rolls and coffee at the station, and then Wingle exhibited to the first available chauffeur an address written on a slip of paper. ““We begin,” he said as the taxi rolled off, ‘‘with an ex- terior view of the Louvre. The address to which we are be- ing driven is an unofficial but popular American tourist bureau whose rear windows afford a magnificent view of the Louvre’s exterior. Mr. Burlew gave me this informa- tion. For a time I hoped he would accompany us, but an unexpected engagement prevented. He seemed to show a great change of heart and, in fact, he admitted his regrets at not being able to share the schedule.” Something told me that young Mr. Burlew’s change of heart was perhaps not as profound as Wingle seemed to believe, but I said nothing. Ever since the news of the bank’s failure I had been so ill at ease as to be completely indifferent to most minor matters. Perhaps I should have warned Wingle, but I could not summon up enough energy or interest for the purpose. At precisely 7:30 the taxi stopped in a small business street, and after some gesticulations, Wingle paid the chauffeur. “‘This is our number,” he said, consulting the door of will walk the building before which we had halted. ‘‘We THE SATURDAY EVENING POST inside and for two minutes take advantage of the view.” We opened the door and ir the darkish exterior passed a long counter to an array of glass- topped tables at the rear Wingle stopped suddenly ‘I don’t understand this, Reynolds What is this place?”’ A gentleman in a wl It’s Rudy’s Sar ite jacket answered, Pei _. stared indignantly about him. “ Reynolds,” he said, breathing heavy ily, here we are -solid, conservative, eff cient business men, and we have allowed that despicable young scamp Burlew to play a trick on us.” He shook his head as he dropped into a chair at the near est table. ‘‘ Waiter, is this place in any sense a tourist bureau?”’ “‘Well, I shouldn't say exactly that, sir; but Americans in Paris come here considerable. You might say Rudy’s San Francisco Bar is their headquarters.” “You hear that, Reynolds; Americans of the your precious young friend Burlew make this their head quarters. They turn their backs on the world’s capital and come here to guzzle. Inefficiency run rampant, Reynolds.” He pointed to the rear of the room. signs of a window there, Reynolds? Is there any visible window by which we might obtain a view of the exterior of the Louvre? Not one, Reynolds; not one. Moreover, we have wasted precious minutes getting here. Sit down, and let us gather ourselves together for the next move.” I sat down; the waiter retreated to the bar. ‘Yes, Reynolds, here we are——victims of a heartless type of “Do you see any prank. And the question arises, what are we to do next?” It seemed to me fairly obvious. ‘‘Get up and get out,” I ventured to suggest. ‘That is simple enough to say, Reynolds; but where are we, and where will we find a taxi at this hour? As I re- member this street, taxis were conspicuous by their absence. Besides, we have to consider the question of manners and customs.” “‘What do you mean by that, Wingle?”’ ‘IT hope I am a solid, conservative business man, Reynolds, but first of all I am efficient; when I cannot share the beliefs of others, at least I respect them.” I remarked that I didn’t see what he was getting at. Wingle seemed to have difficulty in framing his next sentence. “This may be a commonplace drinking den; in fact, it bears a striking resemblance to a similar place with which I was familiar when a police reporter in Milwaukee. But we are in France, Reyn- olds—-we are in France.” ‘You said that before, Wingle. I don’t see what it has to do with our situation.” ‘*In France, Reynolds, drink- ing is not looked on as itis in Amer- ica. To walk out of this bar with- out ordering something would be considered an insult to the en- tire French na- tion.” It seemed to me that in the matter of a place which called itself Rudy’s San Fran- cisco Bar, Wingle was overstating things, and I did not hesitate to tell him so frankly. ‘“*There must be no question of Continued on Page 158 7 Can Only Say it Was Smooth and Grateful

Page 14

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By CHESTER T. CROWELL GA MIB ILING } LTHOUGH upward of 90 per cent of the people of almost any American community strongly favor P i the suppression of commercialized gambling, it is extremely difficult to make this public opinion effective in For most persons the explanation of this simple. Briefly, they will tell you that the police and other peace officers fail to do their duty for reasons best known to themselves. But this explanation is entirely too facile and sweeping; t will } qualification. Gambling, in spite of the fact that has few friends, is difficult to define—that is, to define legally; it is also difficult to detect and still more difficult to prosecute. From the point of view of a district attorney, murder is much simpler. The statutes defining murder and providing penalties are brief everywhere. The statutes defining gambling and providing penalties are always much longer, usually rather complicated and con- sequently almost meaningless in the absence of court de- cisions which must. serve to clarify them. Among violators of the law the professional gambler is !, Beyond all question the squirming championship is his. Not that other lawbreakers do not squirm long and violently, but the gambler’s score is highest because he succeeds more often in escaping the Thus it happens that the average citizen observes a spectacle that puzzles him—namely, gambling is usually being suppressed with great vigor and yet seems never to be quite suppressed. Or if the campaign against it is prosecuted with tremendous power it will appear for a short time to but unaccountably it reappears, and often under the admin- istration of the very officials who fought the large r cities. lact is very ear preéminently the ee net. be absolutely dead; it with apparent success. Since the World War there has been a striking and unmistakable revival of gambling in this country, especially big gambling in the larger cities. The easy explanation, of course, is the so-called postwar moral let-down. As a matter of fact, there is probably nothing in it. A more reasonable explanation is It takes money to gamble, and a great deal of money for some of the picturesque gam- bling of recent years. The larger cities of this country disagree with the rural popu- lation on quite a number of subjects, but not ‘commercialized gambling. They ire overwhelmingly against it. There- not only sound public much postwar general prosperity. on fore it is but good politics as well policy for police departments to be vigi- lant, and as a rule they are. Styles Change NES ERTHELESS, gambling 4N continues. The explanation lies in the fact that styles change; and Lady Luck comes back for an- prance identity is new methods are invented other briefly prosperous old before her dis- New Methods are covered under the new trappings. As for the people of the big cities, gambling troubles them more than nearly any other form of dissipation. As they see it, the drunkard strikes at himself and those dependent on him, but the gambler necessarily strikes others indis- riminately. Far more than half the defaulters who out- rageously betray the confidence reposed in them by friends, business associates, relatives and dependents do so because t have been gambling. Consequently their vice is alarm not only by the most liberal but even hey ewed wit the | ve been times in virtually all the larger Amer- in cities when the municipal administration was inclined look the other way and more or less openly permit houses to exist, but invariably these open seasons Gamblers always prove themselves No matter how discreet they may be ntually they have to be suppressed. That alliance between gambling and machine to be brought to a close and the efforts toward If a city administration ies, resumed. open season and the police receive TLLEUVUSTRATEDO whispered advice to look the other way, the gamblers themselves will soon precipitate their own disaster. Gen- erally they do this by apportioning territory among them- selves and then fighting over their boundary lines. Having no actual and enforceable leases defining their various dis- tricts, encroachments can be resisted in only one way—by gunmen. Presently there will be one or more murders, usually a whole flock of them. In the ensuing prosecutions the whole rotten business is dragged across the front pages of the news- papers and from half a dozen to a score or “= Oy Invented and Lady Luck Comes Back for Another Briefly more of promising political careers are wrecked. Precisely that has happened several times in New York City. The last ill-smelling exposé became a national sensation. Gamblers were at war with one another with such outrageous scorn for law and order and the public opinion of the city in which they flourished that a young standing army fared forth one day to assassinate a man standing on the sidewalk in front of a hotel in one of the busiest parts of the city. The victim’s name was Herman Rosenthal. A few months later the electric chair at Sing Sing had one of the busiest seasons of its career, and among those who died there was a police lieutenant whose record was otherwise quite ex- cellent. Since that time the politicians and police of New York City have turned a fishy eye upon commercialized gam- bling. They learned a lesson not to be forgotten in less than a generation, if ever. There is far more to be gained by hurling a strong-arm squad against the gamblers than by accepting any favors they have to bestow. For more than ten years now the metrcpolitan police have been making it hot for gamblers. And the net result? Well, August 20,1927 Br mM. L. BLUMENTHAL styles have changed. Canfield and Honest John Kelly wouldn’t recognize the modern version of the ancient dustry. They might even have a little trouble finding a game. But the games are still going on. Many New Yorkers of the man-about-town type who are acquainted with the popular speak-easies, admitted readily to the night clubs and recognized by the sporting fraternity are, nevertheless, under the impression that the days of Homeric gambling are now ancient history. They will tell of historic occasions when famous plungers bet $10,000 on the turn of a card or one throw of the dice as though such events no longer happen, but they do. The only difference is that formerly the big games were played in the presence of an admiring and pop-eyed circle of spec- tators. Now they are not, and only by accident are the facts about amazingly large bets disclosed. As these lines are written there is pending in the courts of New York a case involving a bank rupt stockbroker, and uncontested testimon shows that the broker in question lost $330,000 in ashort time to just one gambler. This would probably never have been disclosed but for the fact that the firm failed. Also, within the past year the metropolitan newspapers told of a Chicago man with sporting proclivi- ties who made such a splash in New York in- gambling circles that within a few weeks his losses aggregated about $1,000,000. In the old days of open gambling there would have been many men present when these games took place. They would have seen the money piled on the table, heard the challenges to put up or shut up; in short, they would be able to report every detail. But not now. Under the conditions prevailing today one merely hears some weeks later, or possibly a year or more later, that a certain man lost a certain sum, and in the absence of details the whole story either sounds improbable or is quickly forgotten because the incidental drama of the actual scene is missing. Everything on the quiet. Masters of Psychology Fires those who are addicted to games of chance of seventh sense by means of whic they can find one another in any sort of crowd. It is a well-known fact that there is cappers and through the hotel lobbies of New York City engaged in invitations to likely prospects If they would just the police by making a reasonable number of mistakes—about the number that even the most highly skilled traveling salesman makes in the course of seeking custom- it might be possible for the police to clamp the lid But these cappers make almost no have some sort mysterious an army ol steerers deployed extending oblige Prosperous Prance ers down much tighter. mistakes at all. “Would you like to flip a few pasteboards with some good sports?’’ queries the capper. And the eyes of | prospect light up like a sunrise on the Pacific Ocean. If those men could only tell what they know they would b« valuable lecturers on psychology. Year after year they walk with assurance over very dangerous ground, for there is no lack of men who would take great pleasure in furnish- ing to the police not only the address of a gambling house but their testimony against it as well. Probably ten times more men would serve as informers against a gambler than against a bootlegger. This fact has brought about an entirely new technic in the management of commercialized gambling in New York City. To be specific, there are now scores of itiner- ant gambling outfits that hold forth only one night in one place, or at the most only four or five nights. Their equip- ment varies, but it is never bulky and can be moved from place to place with comparative ease. In order to get

Page 15

Se information for this article I sought out the head of such an outfit and questioned him. It seemed a rather doubtful procedure and I was prepared for a rebuff, but he didn’t mind telling me anything I wanted to know. He is well acquainted with the police and they are well acquainted with him, but that is no obstacle, because in order to convict him they would have to find his business in actual operation; either that or obtain the testimony of persons who gambled with him. Neither is easy. He wouldn’t tell anyone except his customers where the next night’s play will take place, and his customers wouldn’t testify against him unless they were caught red-handed and forced todoso. And even then they might not, or they might do it very in- effectually. There is a wide gulf between the testimony of a witness who really wishes to prosecute and the half- hearted mumbling of one who does not. As an Accommodation to Customers HE gambler I met is known to the trade as Nick. He is well dressed, but rather conservatively, wears no jewelry and speaks in a very low tone. He might be a bank teller as far as appearances indicate. This young man has found out two things about the busi- ness in which he is engaged that made it possible for him to revolutionize his methods and still prosper. First, he found out that the reputation of the gambler and not his equipment or fixed address is his principal asset. Next, he found out that men who like to gamble will go to a great deal of trouble to reach the place where gambling is in progress. In order to set up shop for the night Nick makes arrangements with one of his clients for the use of his offices or shipping room or apartment, or it may be floor space in a factory. The word is then passed along by telephone and usually in the form of a telephone number: ‘‘How about a little game Saturday night?” “Well, I don’t know. Saturday night, did you say?’ “Yes, Saturday night.” “If | ean get away I'd like to be there.” “All right, call Main any time Saturday.” “Thanks, Nick.”” And on Saturday afternoon the client calls Main “Corner of Broadway and Eighty-sixth,”’ says Nick, and that means that one of Nick’s representatives will be strolling along there cordially greeting persons of his acquaintance. Each is favored with an address and moves on a short dis- tance, where he will be met by another of Nick’s representatives who will say: ‘‘Goed evening, Mr. Whoozis. Nice weather we're having now. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Professional Gambler is Preeminently the Eet Apartment 14A, fourteenth floor.””. And Mr. Whoozis strolls in as though he lived there. In answer to his ring one or more polite young men greet him in the doorway and assist him with his coat, stick, gloves and hat. They also know Mr. Whoozis and are pleased to see him again. Probably they take the liberty to say so in a cordially fraternal way, for these young men are not flunkies. On the contrary, they are very independent young men who earn fairly good wages by far from humdrum labor. They are gunmen. Likewise the two out on the street are gunmen. Polite and soft- spoken gunmen, to be sure, but none the less absolutely reliable in the event that a few chores of homicide should become necessary. Both Nick and his clients would be annoyed if the game should be interrupted. Nevertheless, that possibility ex- ists even in such a pleasant world as this. The police do not know that a game is in progress this evening; they have a great deal of = There Have Been Times in Virtually All the Larger American Cities When the Municipal Administration Was Inclined to Look the Other Way stick-up men w! t thing else earth to att to ex ept t e parties as those “ hN presides. They do et erint ( ~ fire er ere te Actu time ang ( the nds and it de igntiu port t win oO ‘ day alter da wee ter wet f ope ling one oll te parties Whe the t the situatior s favorable the some me the the playe N ong W em, g ome yt So Nick's gunmen are stationed at nvenientiy strategic points to meet any unfriendly stick-up mer who may be wandering about that evening and tel them kindly to gO away and stick uj omeone elise Otherwise, as an accommodation to Nick and his clients, It may be necessary to empty one chamber of an automatic, in which event the morning newspapers would print a little paragraph about as follows The body of a dar} nplexioned, he t young mar apparentiy about twent ear ive ck tt morning in the ¢ tor ’ ; I . ~ oadway. He carried no but Officer O'Reilly man as Gyp the Strangler, a member of D The murder is thought t e due ga And that will be about the last of that, except that Nick’s polite young gunman is out one cartridge and will have to work nearly fifteen minutes restoring the cleanli ness of his automatic, a clever toy for which he feels almost the same affection he would have for a puppy or a kitten The game, meanwhile, is not interrupted. Even if Nick's faithful gunman were to be so clumsy as to fall into the clutches of the law, the game would still not be interrupted because no one would know what Nick’s gunman was doing there at the time or what the fight was about. Moreover, the man he kills is a dangerous criminal and the police do not regret that he was bumped off. If the gunman faces trial he can plead self-defense and probably be telling the truth The Gambler’s Worst Disaster ICK caters toa high-class finicky clientele and he simply will not permit nasty stick-up men to take their money away from them, because it would spoil their whole eve- ning. However, sometimes they do, in spite of all precau- tions. But it is one of the worst disasters this type of gambler can suffer. Com +2 pared to an encounter with stick-up men, a Continued on Page 148

Page 16

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 M’GIVNEY’S MUSTACHE » fly in the top-floor front of Number 23 Marina opened his eyes. For hours he had been imprisoned in a drum which the Café Royal barmaid, slapped his face nad ng before pounded By James Warner Belllalh ILLUSTRATED BY ANTON OTTO FISCHER nervously. They patted the breech of the gun Then they went up onto the bridge and dis appeared inside. Fifteen minutes later they were back on the esplanade. Not a aboard. Everything just as the crew had left it soul sroken } > ipe drumstick at regular intervals. The noise roared and echoed in head. He pulle the blanket from his face and muddied to his The hollow sound trem- ssed his fingers throbbing temples. empty bled again through the fog- j laden air and roared in at his open window, dull and metallic. It slightiy after five eavily was the wrist by uminous dial of his watch. He licked his lips and sat up his cot. Rain dripped in round pearls from on rickety and the bare floor under the sill drenched He feet into his soggy the windowpane, was black. stuck hi slippers and scuttled to the window, with histrench coat drawn around him. the misty could see Across espla- nade he a strip of beach laced with white foam. rhe soft H ‘Trash of; insnore breakers rippled along the , front and the sigh of ma- rauding waters ran up the sands as the crawling lip of the tide came into his circle of vision. Then again, far- ther out, the hollow boom sounded off once more and roared down the silences in empty that log The fly- window reverberation seemed to make the jump and tremble I shut the ing officer 10us with a vi crash and vaulted pack onto his cot, with a curse for generals, keewees and a government that couldn’t get a ship to send him back to Canada , but kept him instead in ate house after him away from hissquadron with theatrical for three mont luring a promise of home and fire- de, and him at fi awakened ve with thunderous, from then xplainable noises loose from a haps the crew tow, or had swept overboard while she per- been was running on the surface “What about the engine- room crew?’’ The com mander R. N. V. R. shook And that ended it | there, hopelessly sunk in the shift his head. To this day she is sti ing Channel sands, great ment blazoned rusty plates. with a advertise ner ying of Mani his batman owns liver-pill acToss The fl ficer raises wheat in toba and a saloon bar in Bermondsey A thousand years from now, an archeologist looking fo | dig he keel plates up from the cen- Roman baths, wil ter of some inland town and write a great | will have nothing to do with Wilhelmshaven o Heligoland or depth charge OOK Whi Kiel or There were that M’Givney stomach three thing couldn't rusty Dutchmen and one-cylinde M’Givr ey nad red meta! eyeglasses a violent mustache, a purple temper and a ylue love for the throb and pale beat and chirrup of per fectly tuned machinery. I: his carpet slippers crossed the seven se: dred times for br love of listenir phony churr him in an ey Mens soup rhythm. take four hairpin and build a b Mess tor & Rowan could a plish in their best momer engine than the Men also said that pi pint he could drink liquor between sunset than his er i oil from Sydney to the East India Dock. M’Givneywent ilf an hour later, fright- feet raced up the tottering stairs, his door pulled At 3:30 There Was was open and someone shook him violently. For a moment his batman couldn't speak. He puffed and blew and pointed frantically toward the closed window. [It’s a subamarine! Fink as ’ow hit’s mined, sir! Best get hout!’ T} ivi A fit flying officer leaped into his slacks and tunic with- out a word and galloped down the stairs. Half asleep still, he wasn’t quite sure whether the Gothas were over or the dump was on fire. He burst out of the entrance of 23 with his batman at his heels. » a hundred yards across the Marina and the uge, crusted U-boat lay on its side inside the reef, great bulk almost entirely out of the receding rope end dangled idly from her bridge rail and saft of a periscope traced short circles in the last, awkward lurching of the raced down the street to the crowd at the wit! from a convoy going into Scapa a Soft Sigh of Waters as Von 4.1 Shell Lashed to His Cooling Feet “You fellows can shove it under your collars, I’m getting out of here. If she goes off there won't be any town left!” ‘“Where’s the crew? Nobody's come up for air yet. “Beggar her crew. Come on! I came here to be re- patriated, and by damn I’m going to be!”’ There was a clatter of hoofs on the pavement and a de- tachment of M. P.’s galloped up, with a subaltern from the A. P. M.'s office in command. He hesitated a moment before he dismounted. “Rope this place off for four squares each way and keep the crowds back. Clear out all the Marina billets.” He walked up to the esplanade railing and stared out at the U-boat. Nothing happened. Nothing happened all morn- ing. At two o’clock, when the tide was at low ebb, a major with red tabs on his lapels and a commander R.N. V. R. arrived in a motor car. For an hour they walked and waded cautiously about the stranded derelict, rapping it sharply with their knuckles, listening with their ears close to the rusted plates. Presently they put a ladder against it and climbed up onto the slanting superstructure. They tip- toed around the tiny deck, while the crowds watched them Falkenheim Slid Into Eighty Fathoms With a on pomading his red mus tache and drawing it out t fine points two inches on both sides of his mout} In 1902 he was in Nagasaki the night the German liberty party was run into the sewage canal for Anglo- American amusement, and he had grinned all the next day during the frantic crisscrossing of admirals’ barges in pursuit of apologies that were not forthcoming. At sunset he had thumbed his nose as the German fleet pulled out of the roads in high, imperial dudgeon. He knew that he had thrown six Dutchmen into the canal himself and he was quite ready to do it again. That ended the matter for M’Givney. In 1912 he was chief on the Trenwith Head, for no good reason except that he needed a job. From Rio to Hoboken he patched and plugged and cursed and nursed, and limped in seventy-two hours behind schedule with a wad of greased waste rammed into the bridge speaking tube, a three-day-old green-stick fracture of his right ulna and half a shovelful of powdered slate left in his bunkers. He re signed in three purple words, washed his neck, put on his celluloid collar, pomaded his mustache and of the forty-seven beer gardens on the block beh North German Lloyd piers. For three hours he sat w went up to one nd the

Page 17

<) iy

)

his troubles and brooded over the ultimate fate of owners who sent bottoms to sea with cylinders of tin foil and pistons of cheese. For the last hour of the three his venom narrowed sharply to the present and focused on a face at the next table. It was a vapid face, with a fragile chin set high above a tall, white collar and tilted sneeringly aloof. Close- cropped blond hair bristled above it in a tight brush. Long slender fingers pulled arrogantly at a shadowy smudge of a mustache. M’Givney snorted and called for another seidel of dark. At the end of the third hour and the seidel, he leaned across his table and asked the vapid face, in no uncertain terms, whether or not it thought it owned a mustache. The face regarded him twice from the breast bone to the hair roots in a languid sweep of bored blue eyes and turned slowly away. M’Givney supposed audibly that the face belonged to a five-dash junior deck pup on a one-dash Dutch passenger tub with a three-dash benediction by way of amen. The face frowned, stuck an eyeglass into its left eye and said, ‘‘Swinedog Englisher.”’ M’Givney took the eyeglass with a quick sweep of his hand and stamped it to powder under his heel. The face rose and slapped him sharply. M’Givney kicked the face over three chairs and into the mirrors. He put up a fair fight, but his right arm was useless. Seven waiters held him down presently while the face leered jauntily above him and kicked him thoroughly in the ribs. M’Givney fainted. When he came to he was in a plaster cast to his armpits and one-half of his mustache was clipped off close to the center of his lip. For five years he lived with the memory of a vapid face with arrogant blue eyes, a fragile chin and a stiff brush of closely cropped blond hair. By no stretch of the imagination was the Herr Unter- leutnant Stengel a gentleman. The crew knew it, Von Falkenheim knew it and, what was worst of all, the Herr Unterleutnant Stengel knew it himself. Smudged with the tar brush of the provinces, he smelled of the merchant ships. Boot as he would, and curse, primp as he would, and smirk, he was caught between two spheres—a Tomlin- son dangling in a void of his own making. Von Falkenheim THE SATURDAY EVENING POST couldn't stomach his affectations and conceits, and failing to recognize Herr Stengel’s fatuously nursed resemblance to Frederick William of Hohenzollern, he ignored the underbred whelp he did see. Steinhauer, the jur too bound up in his own clammy fear to bother abo sonalities. He came and went on duty, a pale-f bristling passages If he thought of Stengel at all, he thought of him merely as sliding noiselessly through the narrow, a tangible barrier between himself and any possible avenue of escape. The men couldn’t ignore the Unterleutnant d muttered. All of whict is rather bad business on an undersea boat They grumbled and scowled ar Stengel had gone into the service at the outbreak of the war because he saw in it a chance to become something he wasn’t. The men he cared nothing for. Von Falkenheim was a fool who read poetry and looked upon navigation and ballistics as quite necessary and diverting, but not ex- actly a religion. Like the damned English, he was; clever and gay and smiling. Some day he would make a stupid mistake—Stengel nestling under the damp blankets in his cramped bunk brooded over that day —an obvious traitor- ous mistake, and he, Stengel, would be there to correct and report it. After that his name would roar in the crowds. He would do great deeds and be known. He would be raised in rank and decorated. These cursed gray days of wet, cold and cramped, bolt-studded quarters; this eternal maddening throb of thudding engines; this brackish water and tasteless soggy food, and air that smelled like dirty sun-baked cotton, would be forgotten under twin- kling crystal chandeliers in great salons, lost in the smiles and soft whispers of fine ladies. So the Herr Unter- leutnant dreamed on and never went into the control chamber without his gloves and his eyeglass Von Falkenheim was coughing. He had been coughing for days now and his eyes were ringed with the deep blue of sleeplessness. He wore a muffler tightly wrapped around his throat and kept lozenges always in his mouth. But still he coughed and pulled at the muffler with pale, bluish fingers and shivered miserably. At night, when they breathed under the dark vault of the open sky, he would come up, wrapped to the chin in his great coat, and walk solemnly to and fro on the tiny deck. Or he would grip the

The Tolvane Went Down

in Thirteen Minutes After the First Crash Broke Her Back

bridge rail, lean against it heavily and stare to the east ward, breathing in rasping gasps, | ling On with the sword stee of a great w Stengel watched him thro g! narrowed eyes and hrugge nd the { t went on against time On Apr twelft the were t t iy tor ne their t optin t expectatio () the tr tec the sank 4 Harden & Je ip boat off Fa et Lignt in the four teenth they did in the Mary K. Horseley of the Gree Diamond Line at dawn, with gunfire, a t set the sighted a small tramp and blew her out of the water a point-blank range. Twenty-two thousand tor ahead of last time and on less fue consumption and iess cruising time Stengel blew upor his eyeglass, polished it and looked through it at his reflection in his tiny steel shaving mirror. He saw a ribbon caught through his buttonhol and a cross upon his breast, though the mirror measured a mere two inches by three. Von Falkenhe heavily to the ladder rungs and staggering slightly in the

nm Was ciinging passages. His eyes were glassy and almost out of his head His shiny red lips were flecked at the corners with cottor An hour after the last light had faded in the west he crumpled up in a heap, struck the gyro-compass with his forehead and lay gasping for air at the foot of the conning- tower ladder. Stengel ordered him taken to his cubby, then he battened down and submerged immediately. Most of the night Stengel sat in the stuffy air, exulting when it became perceptibly drier and thicker and mor cottony, waiting and listening. At three Von Falken heim’s last parched breath rattled out of his swollen throat Stengel wiped his eyeglass, nodded and looked at each man in the control chamber

“Von Falkenheim,”’ he growled, “‘is dead. I command, Herr Steinhauer. We rise at once. Surface!’ At 3:30 there was a soft sigh of waters as Von Falken- heim slid into eighty fathoms with a 4.1 shell lashed to his cooling feet. Stengel, on the bridge above, rubbed his hands together silently and threw back his narrow shoul- ders. Twenty-four hours more. With the luck that was with him, perhaps an even thirty thousand of extra ton- nage. There was still one fish left in the after tube and six rounds for the deck gun. He would wait outside the Channel Continued on Page 64

Page 18

16 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Al MAURIRITEID MALIN” a af a By Fannie Kilbourne «.," ILLUSTRATED Cc. D. WILLIAMS Br August 20,1927 OB A lovely blue boat-shaped bowl ‘‘tied in”’ the man- pointed up”’ the correct marine above it. The dining room was as faultless, with its corner cabinets, its Wedgwood china and amethyst glass. The kitchen was quaintly colorful. Crisp yellow cur- tains at the windows, cupboards enameled inside in daffodil green. A row of salt, sugar and spice boxes painted in a bright old-fashioned design. The bedroom, delicate, suave. Slender fluted posts, satin comfortables. A painted dressing table with slim legs and wide beveled mirrors, a chaise longue with lace and taffeta cushions. It was while standing in the bedroom that Sally knew, with an almost panicky certainty, that she could never live in this little gem of a home. Its exquisiteness made her feel old and workaday, as embroidery silk, catching and pulling, will bring out roughness in the smoothest forefinger. “Ugh!” Sally shivered a little. ‘‘It makes me feel — ™ — like an overworked old plow horse.” ho. ———— Sally Faced the Fact That There Had Doubtless Been Other Things Too. Days After Dancing at Some Night Club When She Had Been Too Tired to Keep Her Mind on the Office Activities HENEVER her husband jooked at her in a cer- tain way, Sally knew that he was thinking of his first wife, and that his thought was not wholly without regret. She refused, of course, to believe that the regret was truly yearning. If she had thought it ever could be, she would not have married Cort. would felt deeply sympathetic, of course. There is heart-twistingly poignant in the thought of a man, young, ardent, attractive, who has buried his very heart with a beautiful lost wife. Sally would have fe!t bitterly sorry for Cort, but she wouldn’t have him. For Sally was young, and attractive and ardent too. She was also a realist —she’d jolly well had to be; life had to that!—and she would have known the difference between love and consolation. Cort’s very struggle against his love for Sally proved how it was. If it hadn’t been something that could never without a heart, it would have gone down like a cardboard house in the hurricane of his own disap- proval. Sally knew how guilty he felt to be falling in love with another woman less than a year after he had lost Rose. Knew that nothing that his relatives and friends and acquaintances could say—and naturally, they said considerable-——could add one iota to his shamed sense of disloyalty. When he had floundered, trying to explain to she made him feel, Sally had understood. She had never made him put it into words, to come back to him in accusing echo and make him feel himself a low dog every time he thought of Rose. Sally felt so deeply, so gioriously sure that Cort had really never known what love till he met her that she could afford to be generous and let it go at that. Only one pledge she ever asked in definite words, and that was five minutes before she and Cort were married. **Promise me,”’ she demanded, ‘‘that you'll never, as long as we live, throw it up to me that Rose did this way or didn't do that.”’ Cort had blinked at the unexpectedness of it and had been inclined to make a little light of it. But Sally was deadly, desperately serious. **T’m not joking,” “IT wouldn’t joke about any- body you’ve loved. I really mean it.” “Why, I'll promise, but ‘That we'll start fresh, together. Just as though it were all as new to you as it is tome. That you'll never teil me, not in the most casual or the nicest possible way, that Rose used to do something, anything, differently from the way I'm doing. Even though it would never occur to you that I could possibly think you were criticizing me. That you it at all.” I — but 1er voice going a little flat. ‘but’? Do you mind promising?’ Cort drew her to him and kissed her; hungry, desperate adoration mingled with amused indulgence. “Of course, | don’t mind ¢ cheaper pes you funny darling. The only ‘but’ I was thinking of was to wonder, ‘but She have something married seen real come to a man her how was serious she said. of course, just will never say “Why, “oe, ” of course, Sally echoed, “Why do you say why?’ Why need I promise? I can’t imagine ever want- ing to say anything of the sort.” Sally cast a loving, impudent glance up at her tall hus- band to be. “Darling,”’ she said consolingly, ‘“‘I love you just as much as I could if you had good sense.” Well, that was three months ago and Sally was beginning to suspect that she was the one who hadn’t had good sense. She, the realist, to have fooled herself into believing that a memory could be exorcised by a pledge! That a man who had lived five years with one woman could really start fresh with another! And it was such a totally different kind of marriage that she and Cort were having to start. Sally herself did not realize quite how different it was until she saw the home that Cort and Rose had had. The apartment had been rented furnished for the year. Cort had been living at his club. The renters’ lease would expire in a couple of weeks, so there was an apartment all ready and furnished into which Cort and Sally might have stepped. Cort had not suggested this, but Sally, having had to be thrifty for most of her twenty-seven years, mindful of the practical advantages, had gone to look at the apartment. But one glimpse had decided her against it. Not that the apartment was not perfect. It was. Far too perfect. In its four rooms there was not a single flaw. The living room mingled brown mahogany and walnut and maple with perfect correctness—fashion now decreeing that one’s woods and periods must be mixed. The rich, velvety mohair of the divan repeated the exact blue that was in the many-colored, hand-blocked chintz curtains. ” A glance in the long mirror, skillfully placed to reflect the window light and make the room seem twice as large, was reassuring. Small and slim and red-headed was the girl in the mirror. Her hair, cut almost as short as a boy’s, curled in shining ringlets; there was a faint dusting of freckles over a short, impudent nose that wrinkled when Sally laughed. Laughter crinkles at the corners of her blueeyes. Oh, a thoroughly personable young woman. Sally, however, looked about Cort’s exquisite apartment and knew that she didn’t belong in it. It was too fragile in its beauty, too full of delicate demanding details. One broken bit of amethyst glass would take patient shopping to match and replace. There was not a cutwork towel, an embroidered pillow slip, not even a fluted curtain that wouldn’t require the most expert of laundering. The com- mercial box in which a pound of cereal would be delivered from the grocery would stand out, as crassly out of place in that quaint little kitchen as a sunflower in a bowl of roses. A red-cheeked apple left in the violet opalescent fruit basket would throw the entire dining room janglingly out of key. The whole apartment was a thing of beauty and a care forever. It required constant loving service, the grooming of a petted prima donna. “T’d love to come and just look at you, once a week or so,”’ Sally addressed the loveliness about her. “‘But take care of you? Worry about you—live in you? No, thank you.” Imagine coming into that bedroom, tired, after a specially hectic day in the office! The pale brocade on the chaise longue, the lace-frilled taffeta cushions would fairly shriek their protest at a weary and quite probably dusty tweed shoulder. Like any other spoiled beauty, the apartment was not one to brook compromise. Its owner must be one thing or the other. And between exciting, satisfying, wearying days at the office and taffeta boudoir cushions, Sally had long ago made her irrevocable choice. Cort had concurred in this choice. ““You’re crazy about your job and you're making a suc cess of it,”” he had said. ‘Naturally, you don’t want to **Mercy, Child, Don’t Look So Worried. Nobody Ever Expects a Woman to be Right on Time Anyway’

Page 19

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST give it up, and I can’t see a reason in the world why you Crista i st who t think we hould.” e wa t a hu ‘I can’t either,” said Sally. Adding, after a moment to wv e told I have just the me off rt ‘ “It'll mean, of course, that we'll have to have a different pla ¢ mer t she must defend her t gho i} ‘ 4 sort of marriage, but I’m sure I shan’t mind.” 1 n ? t gt I ‘ l ‘Neither will I,”’ said Cort confidently. nor yramn ! e on } ‘ t A ‘ And, because he so evidently beli he knew amethyst glas No dining table at all in fact Just a k, or making a laundr t were something that a n what he was talking about, Sally believed it, too, and went little gateleg in the living room, drawn up be e the fir wasn't able to do rf happily ahead. for dining at night and beside a window for lazy Sunday Sally knew, o irse, that the ¢ ta tion ha Together she and Cort made their new home. Found morning breakfast. Cigarettes and the morning pape rea ved the em, |} ‘ peaking. It the apartment on a joint hunting expedition of a Saturday strewn prodigally about, and a sense of leisure as relaxing wasn't the laundr t was the pr ple of the thing. ¢ 1) afternoon. Spent two months of following Saturday after- as a yawn wouldn't have adr 1 it t Sally knew that \ Mt noons and all the tag ends of time that either could muster, “The Cotter’s Saturday Night,”’ said Cort, opening up ttle hurt. Under her light touch Sa “ : getting it furnished. the sport section with a great sigh of contentment, “‘ha eager to be fair int marriage of the She proved th \ A very different sort of home from Cort’s first one, this nothing on the business man’s Sunday morning.” an evening or two later by taking a mouse out of the tray | turned out to be. A big, comfortable, easy-going living It was on this very Sunday morning, though, that Sall; the kitche ( tabel had gone for the night and Cort room. Rugs and curtains which did well enough, but were first realized that there was a ghost in the apartment. was deep in a report in the living room. Sally had to 5 , nothing for an interior decorator to rave about. Low, lazy She and Cort were dressing to go out through a lot of rigmarole with a paper bag and s nting 1 chairs, a wastebasket not too chastely artistic but capa- “Look at that shirt, will you?”’ Cort grumbled good her eyes tight shut and choking back incipient nause cious, in which you could nonchalantly sharpen a pencil naturedly. ‘“‘They must have ironed it with a tractor. | he didn't call Cort away from his tasi or throw an empty candy box. A piano that stood always can’t hand much to that laundry you patronize.” This was a real resisting of temptation. Cort had a gre open. A wood fire. Plenty of ash trays. A telephone that ‘I don’t patronize it,” said Sally. “‘Isendmythingstoa natural protectiveness. Taking care of his wife in all the sat handy and unabashed on a broad window sill, with no little French hand laundry.” little ways he *ook as the husband's natural part of mar f' ameliorating silken skirts or little hiding Florentine cabinet. “Why don’t my shirts go there, too, then?’ riage. He would e been flattered rather t annoyed i) A sort of careless, genial kindliness, that living room had. Sally giggled. “‘I never saw a shirt go anywhere,” she at being called away from his task. But ‘Taking | You felt it would be a hard room toshock. Likeafriendly, said, “left to itself. I imagine that if you've been putting mouse out of a trap isn't a husband's work, really,”’ Sa tolerant host, it took in any alien detail and made it feel yours in the bathroom hamper, Cristabel has been sending _ told herself sternly, “any more than making a laundry list | at home. The cribbage board, forgotten on a chair arm, them right along with the sheets and towels. The French- is a wife’ Oh, Sally had her principles of marriage too HY Cort’s logging chart and fountain pen left on the top of the man comes for mine on Tuesdays. Why don’t you get he matter of the poker party, however, did not ar radio, crumpled tissue paper and some faded pink ribbon your things ready and let him take them too?” iny matter of principle. It just happened. Six or th of Sally’s tossed into the fireplace, waiting for the next fire. “Get them ready? What do you mean?” eight friends of Cort’s got together an evening every two (\ A fifty-fifty sort of home, in which neither feminine nor “Why, sort them out and wrap them up and make a_ or three weeks to play poker, sometimes at one’s homes masculine tastes had gained full sway. list,”” said Sally ometimes at anothe Cort broached the subject o i So happy were they in making that home together that Cort looked so aggrieved at this suggestion that Sally entertaining them in the new apartment 1! Sally began to forget to be apprehensive. To forget the asked curiously, “‘How have you managed about you: I'll clear right out,’’ Sally offered promptly ‘Tle yi possibility that the memory of Rose might ever walk in it laundry this last year?”’ Vera Mellon for dinner and the theater with me and ther like a ghost, domestic, disapproving, stirring up di “Margaret used to come over once a week and look afte I tay overnight with her satisfaction. it,’’ said Cort. “‘And before that, Ro ” He stopped Cort approved enthusiastically of 1 arrangement s} “Shall I hire a maid, or do you want to?”’ Sally asked, short, evidently remembering his promise. ‘Men nev His enthusiasm, however, had entirel) n wher i when the apartment was ready. fool around with that sort of thing,’ he explained and Sally met for dinner the evening ¢ party I hi Cort looked startled at the proffered alternative A Sally said nothing, wriggling into a narrow-skirted tar was ( tabe day off and they were ng ata new il warning that, which Sally ignored crépe dress. When it was safely past her shoulders, “I orhood tea room. One glance at Cort’s face and a womar ia “Oh, you'd better,”’ he said hastily. I don’t know’ imagine Cristabel’d tend to it for you he suggested, ir i ensitive than Sally would have known that all wa ' anything about housekeeping.” ‘for a little tip.” not we “Neither do I,”’ Sally reminded him And then, com- That was all there was to it And vet m that ve low mu did you lose e asked fortably: “Well, we'd better get a maid who does.” moment Sally began to be conscious of e ghost A wil 1 won four dolla ind a half aid Co ‘i “How much can you set a good table for, for us and a Continued on Page 132 \r little company now and then?” Sally asked the first su: { prised applicant for the position —a dusky Cristabel who had unimpeachable references. After consid d 1 erable mental travail the girl mentioned a sum j | ; i) which seemed reasonable to Sally + i 4 | **Shall we take her,’’ Sally had asked Cort € hs A “for had we better let some rival firms bid or the contract?” Sally held a very good po ‘ » tion with Warlight Builders. } ; ‘How will you know she doesn’t take food home,”’ Cort’s sister had demanded, agha “if you don’t keep a careful eye on yo box?’’ “She can’t take much without { running over the budget,”’ said Sally; ‘‘and if it’s just an orangé oraslice of cake now and then oh, well, most professions have their petty graft. I always put in my own long-distance _ tele- = phone calls from the office and even Cort brings home a pencil now and then from the bank.” It evidently worried Cort’s sis- tor, the way Sally refused to take her housekeeping responsibilitie eriously. Beyond a tactful pane- gyric over the corn bread or ‘‘ No sale, Cristabel; you can’t give u prunes for breakfast,’’ Sally showed no reassuring signs of fee!- ing herself a housewife. She was, in fact, Margaret said disapproy ngly, inclined to be flippant about it. As the day when she found the baby grand piano covered with Fo ee dust. ‘You have to jack up the best servant in the world now and then,’’ Margaret told Sally from the vantage point of her own ten —__ = years of housekeeping, “‘or they get slack yy So Sally wrote, ‘‘Oh, you, For Severct Seconds Satly Stared at Her Husbard, Cristabel!”’ in the dust with her Not Believing That She Could Have Heard Him Correctly. Did He Think He Could Make Her Decision for Her?

Page 20

"Mar 1S J AUN IDI CKLPS S COVE was usually so quiet in the cow chewing her cud in a field but now there were sounds of mirth rt Hayden had just appeared in the - of ice-cream pants ever seen in the lor a party. Perk Art glanced back in re- Lem added to his cronies: ‘‘Ten rse they gave Art the laugh. It was ahead of Lem inued on his way, but a pronounced hesi- ns him as he neared the livery stable, for the The » could preserve face under the stare and com- ] The gang licted ‘ stable was the real test of mettle in the Cove. » loafers at its portals did not exist. sit out on stoois and boxes and rickety the wide space of its open doors and world go by, when there was any \ pleasant place to loaf, with two to give ade, horsemen playing through the alley- yet ad to girls and women who had to ) in the time d the Congregationalist church to the and a rich, appealing sh their backs from the yards behind; from ction they turned the next corner. 1y grew so nervous that they wabbled in walk as they the eyes on their backs. ld not go through with the ordeal at crossed the street and went along a dirt order to es¢ tnat ape it, their only satisfaction ig they did not hear the jokes and could t indifference at that distance. Even grown n were not immune: A fellow could not spring without trousers ng the knees Lite flannels seemed lie , lara ac) ar linding glare as he neared the + | but it befell that he was to ] Living among the He se pants afar, gaped a orses was the village half-wit gi the ite, and then guffawed so hard at he threw a fit, and the hangers- too occupied when Art him any attention. sensation he made among the girls at the party am- repaid Art for the strain of the street parade. i't he handsome!’ rd the same thing a thousand times, yet it were to his ears. The other boys snorted con- together in corners and making mock the corners of their mouths. It did , because he realized they were jealous. iy home he dropped in at the drug store to top ing ne if i of pop the three plates of ice cream and { there he met with the first male ap- pioneering. Young Lloyd Shum- nd the « tne ounter and said, ‘‘ Gee, flannel and inquired paid younger boy B lat a nd how much he da hero to the told him carelessly, and tl ‘ove too. asked his mother, like Art’ rht Llovd Unig A0Ya pant s, mamma?” Why, no, dear. What on earth do you want white pants for? You're too young for long trousers; your suit is plenty good enough and looks so well on you.” ““Gosh, mamma, everybody can be in style but me! You wouldn’t let me buy a razor, either, and first thing you know, His mother replied Zravely, have white pants. And we can’t afford it, dear. father is a banker and rich.”’ There it was again! Why couldn’t Lloyd's father have shown better judgment than to become a school-teacher? All his young life Lloyd had heard every plan debated from the sole standpoint of expense. They could not do this and they could not do that, and every vear his father grew more droopy and absent-minded, and more dependent on his ‘ wife. Sometimes he drank a little too much and then he would spout Greek and Latin and whole besides, my whiskers’ll be a thousand feet long.” “None of the other boys Art’s acts from Shakspere, eon toe? i She Was a Self:Reliant, Resolute Woman, With Only One Ambition Left Make a Man of Her Boy but Mrs. Shumway always contrived somehow to get him home without scandal. She was a self-reliant, resolute woman, with only one ambition left—to make a man of her boy. The job was soon entirely her own, because one night during the following winter they brought Lloyd's father home in asleigh. Some said the ice had broken under him; others contended he was pickled and fell in; a few hinted that the teacher had drowned himself because he was suf- fering from an incurable stomach trouble. My own idea is that Shumway simply skated intoa hole. He never looked where he was going, and when they fished him out of Ful- ler’s Pond he had his skates on, and in a parcel he had left on the bank were found a new book and a new pair of ga- f. Now why should a man buy galoshes if Or elsewhere, for loshes for himsel he were headed for the golden streets? that matter. Mrs. Shumway was absolutely prostrated. Never be- fore had Lloyd seen her break down, but now she threw herself on the body and gave way to a flood of feelings she THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By GEORGE PATTULLO ILLUSTRATED to August 20,1927 BY BARTOW Vv. Vv. MATTESON had repressed for years. Forgotten was all her disap- pointment in this man; she had never ce and the mental reproaches in which she h indulged aggravated her grief. She began to talk to him as he lay there. She talked as though they were young again and just starting out together. It was terrible to hear, and the boy tried to comfort her and lead her into another room. “Don’t, mamma!”’ he whispered, his arms around her ‘You've got me! I'll take care of you.” She turned clung to him so fiercely that Lloyd was frightened. The day after the funeral young Shumway went down to the drug store and secured a steady job in place of the volunteer haphazard one he had filled there. It was only a part-time job, as he had to go to school, but the druggist agreed to pay him two dollars a week, which meant con- siderable to them. All Lloyd had to do to earn this money was sweep out the place every morning, dust and clean up d to love him, ad occasionally ana generally, shovel snow, and work from half-past four to half-past eight at night delivering prescriptions and help- ing in the store. “T feel awful sorry for that widow woman,” re marked the druggist to Doctor Somers. ‘They tell me the professor didn’t leave enough to bury him.” “Oh, yes. Not so bad as that. He carried an insur- ance policy for two thousand dollars and I understand the lodge will pay his widow another thousand.” “Then they aren’t fixed so bad after all.” The doctor replied, “‘They car go along for a few years, and by that time Lloyd ought to be earn ing something.” ‘“‘But he isn’t strong. He's a willing a boy as ever I saw, but his back gives out on him. Don’t you think that can be cured, doc?”’ The think something doctor did not Lloyd wrong so. had with his spine, due to a fall downstairs when learn ing to walk,and he limped alittle. Thisslight afflic tion he felt keenly that about going in foraswim sO he was even Sny with the other boys. ‘Poverty and bad the druggist ruminated, staring out of the win- ‘““Gee, that’s a tough com- And the old man was a booze fighter too. What chance Some- health,” aow bination! has that kid got anyhow? how it doesn’t seem fair, doc, the way things are divided up. Look at Lloyd and then take that Hay kid. He’s got everything.” things you can’t help, so what’s the use Did Mrs. Spratt leave that pre Good! Then gimme a quarter's worth of Nancy Hanks aden “ Those’ re of worrying? scription in to be filled? She burned the last one. I’ve got to drive over to see Mrs. Thomas and will be gone all day. Her asthma is worse. The way that old woman hangs on is a caution.” ‘“*Couldn't kill her with an ax,”’ agreed the druggist As the doctor was going along a road, he espied Lloyd Shumway emerging from a which he had just delivered a bottle of tonic. country farmhouse at He watched him trudge through the snow and slush toward the village, dragging one leg as was his wont when tired. “You bet it’s tough,”’ muttered the doctor, thinking of Art Hayden and what the druggist had said. While young Shumway was braving icy sleet and all sorts of weather, and later sitting up over his lessons long after a boy of h age ought to have been in bed, the banker’s son was away at a fashionable prep school. “Born with a silver spoon,” banished from mind by reflected the then both boys were of Doctor Skinner tearing along a crossroad in cutter. It was a spectacle too. Once every day Ski 1 dash out of the driveway from his | ugn answerin at a gallop, as the try; a couple of hours later he would re

Page 21

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ’ ither and wit! | gaping red Nobod\ | ever seemed to find out nostr In the Cove it Was the Custom to Get En: gaged Early and Wait : . 5 for Each Other Until “It’s a fact. Boston Te Love Found a Way He shot it out with priag It w on the tip ef Art “Going to college next { where he went, but it “Get out! ‘iently good “oved su advertising for th { ; ‘ i newcomer to persuade tongue to ask where he 1d raped up e money, Dut 1 e he had a larg: refrained, and Lloyd volunteered the informatior ‘Man peopl ™ practice and Somers had lost some patients to Skinner. developed into a broad-shouldered, shapely man and the ma’s sold the house, and Doctor Somers has fixed it up t “Exercising his horse, | reckon,”’ he sneered at his rival. girls admired his legs and wavy gold hair extravagantly get me a job on the side for my spare tir ll, 4 4 ‘ “We \ fortnight after his talk with the druggist, Somers in- just adore seeing a man smoke a pipe, don’t you?”’ rather patronizing I always knew he cught to’ve been a vet.’ ‘**He looks such a man of the world,” they declared. ‘I “Gee, that’s great, Lloyd!’’ said Art, but his tone wa } i It was a prideful sight to see Art lounging bareheaded on “Why, Lloyd,” Ruth put in, “I never knew that. 7 | “Doing fine. I raised him fifty cents last week.” the pier, in white ducks and blazer, smoking his pipe, when place won't seem a bit the same without you. Who's going “Aren't you afraid of spoiling him?” the yachts put in at the Cove during the warm weather. to mix our sodas for us now “No,” said the druggist, without suspicion. ‘“‘Whatwor- He h | ries me about him, doe, is he ain’t like other boy s. Some- women who came ashore eyed the boy with favor and bottles. “Oh, he'll find a good man tot e! ‘ Ar quired, ‘“ How’s Lloyd getting along? alr ad an air, there's no denying that. Many of the Young Sh imway tur? i ed na it! 1 among ! | times I think he’ll never amount to much.” audibly commented on his looks. Some of these people Continued on Page 122 qi “How? What's he been up to now?” paid visits to friends who maintained summer homes some t “‘Well, he’s all the time fooling round with wires and where along the Cliff; others were idling the time away and ! boxes and coils and junk like that, and twice he’s nearly landed just to see the quaint village whose slender whit: K blowed the roof off of this place, mixing acids. Seems he’s — spire they could glimpse amid the trees from the docl just crazy about e-lectricity, Lloyd is. Why, every time With these visitors Art felt he had much in com | the telephone gets out of order, Lloyd wants to fix it him- mon. The residents of the Cove were wont to refer self, ‘stead of sending to town. Somehow it doesn’t seem to them as big bugs, and held aloof, but not from | ? atural for a kid of his age I fee] aw ful sorry for Mrs. any sense of social superiority in the strange rs not Shumway. It'd be just like her luck to have him turn out by a long shot. To them, everybody not born in ; an inventor or something—his dad was pretty near useless, that vicinity was a parvenu, and in their hearts | they rather looked down on the cottagers. The ffort to make a Nancy Hanks’ trade was worth while, however; otherwise it said, ‘“‘Isthat so? Tell him I doubtful if the Cove dwellers if?” would have troubled to be civil had a workshop in the doc- at all. y, and ofts n the two stayed up until Not so with Art. When these tor’s stove-heated study i all hours of the night, fooling with retorts and concocting fashionable women glanced at terrible smells and minor explosions. There was nobody him and he at them, young ‘ n Somers’ house to say them nay, he being a widower, and Hayden sensed a bond of under Lloyd’s mother seemed grateful for the help. To be sure, standing. Yes, it was class talk she put her foot down on the Jate hours, but she did ing to class above the heads of not sh: the druggist’s skepticism toward her boy’s ten- the yokels dencies. “Got your letter?’ inquired { Lloyd was working full time in the drug store when Art Lloydeagerly when Hayden came Hayden came home for the summer vacation, Art was home from college over a week i till pioneering —he sported a blazer with the school crest end in his final year. on it and was able to cut the other fellows out with Ruth ““No, but I’m going to get it 4) Glendenning in one short evening’s work. For that mat- practically certain of it i ter he could have had his pick of the girls Lloyd, mix us up a couple ; ** Gee, Art,”’ ex laimed Lloyd, when he ar i Rutt dropped of good chocolate ice-crean n for ice-cream sodas, “did you make the team?” sodas, will you? Lots of cre | “T didn’t go out for it. But I will next year.” n mine and chocolate in Ruth’ iy “Sure! It'll be a cinch for you.”” Art was still his hero. He was still rushing Ruth dur { Pe rnaps phys cal pe rfection had something to do w th ng his visits nome Their friend that took it for granted they were engaye For some reason or other Art did not make the team, but Cove it was the custom to get engag he learned to play the mandolin and | tennis game and wait for each other until love four showed up the local experts as novices. Then he gradu- Esther Tindall had been waiting for Sam Bax ! ted and ent to college and brought hack with him a pair ter twentyv-twovears. Sam went to see her ever

Page 22

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20, 1927 TAH PORTER MISSING M By Octavus Roy Cohen “PIC PETERS, mmaculate in his blue uniform, stood beaming be side his was all eagerness. ‘‘ Yas-suh, this New car. What suh? Take yo’ grips? ’sthe one thing 1 Pullman He and is the Yawk please, y, boss man, tha ’ else but.”’ the ingham Terminal Station rang to do nothin’ train shed of a cacophony of escaping steam, y switch engines, baggage trucks ering passengers. Through steam and aze of moke the elongated pol ter glimpsed the sunshine *h streamed down over Valley. He dipped itive fingers into his trousers pockets and fin- gered the loose change he had alré ady received Epic Peters, who was known to his associates as Hop felt that this was to be a profitable trip Sure, How much better it was to be running on the Birming- ham Special midnight train which had been the than on the field of his labors or sO many years aay ray here and elihood of the Daytime people , greater casual tip. f ¢ rs: at ni LbaAVOTI at lg ht wanted ) they merely wished to sleep and by morning seemed isually to have that forgotten their berths had been made up by a human bei seven minutes train time Cap’n Garris gray-mustachec man conductor, walked the ength of the ervation cards He train with hi ved past Epic’s car back to the observation, and so only Epie saw the two men vho walked toward him from the stairway leading up from the passage con- ting the station itself with the train platform. nec men were strikingly dissimilar. One was short, r, wiry and somewhat furtive-eyed. The other was thirty pounds heavier, flat of face and feature, and » a black derby hat and heavy square-toed shoes. ey approached Epic, walking very close together. Each carried a suitcase. One might have judged that they intimate friends, provided one did not observe too man ree losely. But Mr. Peters was trained to appraise his pas- He could size them up with uncanny accuracy. He catalogued them in terms of money. An acid-faced maiden lady usually was classified as a dime, single gentle- men of middle age rated anywhere from one to two dollars. But these men puzzled the veteran Epic. The gangling quite place them. The smaller of the two tread. His eyes shifted con- in search of something which he was The big man, on the other engers ter could not walked with a light, catlike t as though l inxious to find emed blandly indifferent to everything. aned forward and seized their luggage. They fol- p the steps of the Pullman. They announced berthed in Section 6. The porter placed ase under each seat; and as he rose from his knees second painstaking operation, he verified a horrid hich had been born the moment he first glimpsed on the platform. The men were handcuffed | run up and down his spine. Some- the sight of criminal and detective, were traveling on his car was He was determined to have 1g ther of them. But he was too filled ¢ t long to himself nothir , and he sought e ‘Boss Man, Please Don’t Git So Loose With Yo’ Threats’"’ ILLUSTRATED very squat and black person who por- tered on the observation. ““Keezie, what you reckon I got on my car?”’ Keezie was sad. “All the money they is on the train. Honest, Hop Sure, it’s gittin’ so that a thin dime looks as big to me as a hund’ed-dollar bill.” “Silliment you talks with yo’ mouf. You gits all the tips in the world.” “Humph! Reckon you ain’t never run on no observation car. Folks tips you fellers on the reg’lar Pullmans, then comes back in my car an’ obser- vates. I does all the waitin’ on they wants an’ you-all pockets the money. Seems to me Po “Hush expostulatin’ so constant, Keezie, an’ give me ear. I ast you what you reckon I got on my car?” “Well, what?” Hop Sure lowered his voice. tective an’ a crook!” Keezie was impressed. gasped. “Uh-huh. They is han’cuffed each one to the other.” “Honest?” “Cross my heart an’ hope to be bawn a tripe! You come back after us pulls out an’ take a look in Section 6. You sees ’em sittin’ awful close together. An’ b'lieve me, black boy, the most thing I is gwine leave them two fellers is alone!” The air was tested, the bell of the monster locomotive clanged a warning, the conductor gave his ‘‘A-a-a-ll abo-o-ord!”’ and Epic flung his portable step into the car, mounted the steps and closed his vestibule. The train quivered and moved slowly from the murk of the shed into the brilliant sun- shine of a perfect May day. Epic opened his locker, doffed blue coat and official cap and arrayed him- self in the serviceable white coat pre- scribed by regulations. Ordinarily, he would have settled himself with pro- fessional languor to the first stages of this lengthy trip to New York, but now his interest was keened to the highest pitch by the strange pairin Section 6. There were, perhaps, fifteen passengers in the car, some few of whom held tickets only to Anniston or Atlanta. Through passengers would undoubtedly board the train at both those cities. Meanwhile, aside from fixing pillows for three travelers, Epic had nothing to do. But he did it with an energy which carried him past Section 6 several times. Shortly after passing Irondale the two men rose and walked down the aisle of the car toward the smoking room. Epic stared in amazement The handcuffs had disappeared. The train was moving at a good forty-mile clip. Epic saw the big man enter the smoking room and the little man lounged nervously in the doorway. The porter made it his business to walk back to the vestibule. The handcuffs were certainly gone. Hop Sure edged his tall figure past the little man in the doorway and experienced a start of terror as five steely fingers closed about his arm. “A de- ““Golla!”” he George!”’ snapped a voice, amazingly crisp and harsh for so small a man. ““Y-y-yas-suh, boss?”’ “Listen to me, George “My name is Epic, boss man. They calls me Hop Sure.” The ghost of a smile flitted bleakly over the thin face of the thin man. “‘ Very well. Now tell me this: Did you notice anything when we got on the train?” His Eye Sought the Little Manand Noticed That He Was Staring at BY J. J. GOULD Epic’s eyes rolled. ‘‘Gosh, mistuh, you asks such funny questions! Co’se I noticed somethin’.”’ “What?” The word fairly crackled. “Well,” evaded Hop Sure, “I noticed that you was short an’ that other gemmun was tall, an’ that you-all bofe was in Section 6, an’ i “Quit stalling! Did you notice the handcuffs?” “Oh, lawsy! Y-y-yas-suh, I sort of remember observin’ somethin’ of that nature.” ““Well’’—the words of the little man fell like icicles “T’ll just tell you this much: I’m a detective and I’m carrying that man to Danville, Virginia. If you see him make a move to get away, call me!” **Q-o-0-e-e! Mistuh Cap’n Detective, I reckon you better not trus’ me too much. I ain’t crazy about crim- inal gemmun, an’ ig “You do what I say! I can’t keep him handcuffed every minute, and I’ve known of men jumping from a train while it was moving.” Epic was not at all pleased. It was no part of his scheme to interfere with the law. He hastily made an excuse and departed; but when he returned to that end of the cara few minutes later the little man was in the washroom and the big man was standing near the doorway. Hop Sure was not quite certain which of the two men he liked better. Perhaps the big one. He at least didn’t heave words at one as though they were brickbats. He jerked his head toward Epic. ‘Hey, porter!” Mr. Peters was certain that this was an interview he did not crave. Talking to captured criminals was most dis tinctly not one of his most enjoyable pastimes. “* Y-y-yas- suh?” The big gentleman nodded toward “That chap been talking to you?” “Well, suh Fs “Come on now!” “I’m sure he has been.”’ Certainly there was no harm in admit the washroom. There was a twinkle in the big man’ eyes. “*Y-y-yas-suh.” ting the unvarnished truth. “T thought so.”” The speaker seemed to find something vastly amusing in the situation. ‘“*Ain’t it the truth, boss?” “Tt certainly is. I suppose he told you he was a detec- tive, carrying me back to Danville, didn’t he?”’ 3oss, honest to Gawd, I di'n't ‘He’s a clever one, he is. Epic was embarrassed. ask him nothin’.” “You wouldn’t have to ask him that, porter. He tried that racket once before. I merely want to warn you not to be fooled—that’s all.” Mr. Peters blinked violently. fooled?” The haven't kid you into thinking he “What you mean **Good mean don’t Lord, boy, let him white you got a lick of gentleman shrugged. sense? I ’s a detective.” **Huh? Hesaid **Of course he did. He robably told you to seep an eye on me too Smart boy, Joe is. Then perhaps if you see him getting up in the middle of the night you won't anything of it, think and ‘I never think when Ise wukkin’, cap’n.” But t also is that you should understand **Good enough! better urned away and vanished. The dazed porter progressed the length of the car and stationed himself in the where he might do a bit There was a great dez 1 to consider and very little chance to adjust his thoughts Both men claimed to be forward vestibule, of thinking. the Drawing-Room

Page 23

aa _— ~~ \ 4 | detectives; each said the other was a crook proposition. One thing was sure, if he was forced to choose between the pretensions of the two men, his choice would favor the ] big one. For one thing, that person looked more lik detective. Well, what was more nat little fellow. And besides ural than that the little man was a captured criminal and that his first move would be to create the impression that The more Epic pondered on the he was the detective? matter, the more convinced he became that it was the b man who represented the law. commands; just a smiling, easy-going statement of fact. The little man, on the other hand, had been rather unpleasant. Epic was satisfied—in favor of the big There seemed to be no other an- 3ut the more thought he gave the situatkon the more rapt became his ad- miration for the clever little criminal who had made first move in the game. Quite a scheme man. swer. this creation of the impression that he was a detective. Epic voiced a fervent resolve: “‘There’s just two things I ain’t gwine do-—an’ bofe of 'em is mixin’ up with them fellers!”’ T ne train reached Anniston and stopped there for about ten minutes. Shortly after it rolled out of the city, a waiter came through from the diner sounding the first call for He was stopped at Section 6 and invited to send a menu card back. Later, the meal was served to large man and small. Epic noticed particularly that they sat side by side and chatted umiably while they ate. They were not handcuffed, but after the meal had been removed and the check paid the handcul!s once again appeared. Between Anniston and Atlanta the por- ter had more time to crystallize his con- and there was one fact of which he became absolutely certain— he didn't like the little man. The fellow had bright, luncheon. clusions, ratlike eyes which followed Epic ali over the car and made him jumpy. gated Pullman servitor wondered what manner of crime he had committed. Bank robbery, most likely, with perhaps a dash of manslaughter. The very thought made pie shivery and jumpy. The elon- He wandered back to the observation car and matter with his friend Keezie. That person surveyed Epic superciliously. discussed the fum the fust that the big feller was the detective.” **How come you to know so much?’ “‘T got brains, tha’s all. Which of them two is nervous?’ “The li'l’ “*Which tried hardest to make you think he was the law?” ‘Li'l’ feller.” ‘Which acts mos’ like one.”’ a crook?”’ ‘*Same one.’ “Sholy!” Keezie rubbed the palms of his hands together. ‘‘An’ there’s 1] Fum what you tell me, yo’ an- swer. the big one don’t give a at you think. But the li'l’ Them small guys is clever, an’ if I was you one does. yood gosh-durn Ww Hangin’ roun’ with de- crooks ain’t the fondest thing I is of.”’ ‘“*T wish to goodness you was. tectives an’ *Cain’t say I blames you.’ Keezie’s eyes narrowed and he stared at his friend. ‘‘S’posin’ that li’l’ feller tried to escape, what would you do?” le?"’ Epic’s jaw sagged. ‘‘Did you say what would I do?”’ **Uh-huh.” ‘Sweet sufferin’ tripe! Troubles what you talk! Man, I woul’n’t do nothin’ an’ I'd keep right on doin’ it. Pull- man comp’ny don’t pay me to catch folks; I gits paid fo’ carrylr em. ‘I know “But coul’n’t just sit down an’ watch a crim’nal escape.” “The thunder I coul’n't!”’ ‘**Well, I woul’n’t git no law mad at me.” ‘No, nor I don’t want Livin’ thin’ tells me that li'l’ feller is terrible bad medicir Keezie was argumentative. you no crooks mad at me neither is the most thing I craves to keep on doin’, an’ some- Mr. Peters frowned as he bent himself to the task of considering the He was broad-shouldered and confident and he didn’t exhibit the nervous jumpiness which marked the o ta No bluster there, no harsh THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Epic returned to his own car. The friend had not pro interview with ! such foolish thoughts and discussed them so f{ did he get the idea that Epic was mixed up in t} Wha right had he to suggest that the little man might try escape or that in such a contingency it would be I duty to stop him? Besides, how would pic Gosh! The smile stop the man ever f he wa so inclined disappeared from the fa wished that he might have be of the genial porter He 1e start of the rur stricken ill before t claiming illness and insisting or lanta They were close to the already the train had passed Au “Man, Did 1 Ever Tell the Truth, Ise Doin’ it Now"’ be in the Atlanta yards, cutting out one car and addin another. Then a brief stop at the Peachtree station. Ep was excruciatingly unhappy. Many passengers left the train in Atlanta boarded it. The stop consumed ten minutes, dur time there was considerable rush and bustle and excite ment; but not so much excitement that Epic Peters fail many mor ig Whi to see a bit of interesting byplay. Among those waiting on the platform for the Birming- ; One h in browr im Special were two large gentlemen blue. Their harder. Each carried Was aresst and the other in eyes were their faces were a cheap paper su case, and they announced that they held the drawir room. Now gentlemen with cheap clothes, loud socks and paper suitcases do not often travel in drawing-rooms do they, when they enter the Pullman, stare through the car in the obvious effort to catch the eye of someone els¢ And Epic saw that they straight at Section 6 KE} ic in Section 6 These men did also noticed that the large man and the small ma both stared at the newcomers, and as he ved at all soothing. Keezie always had upon the two stra of human nature ing to read character and Epic didn’t Atlanta were there rom the clutches of the sounded to him pre toward which Epic entert roaching night was mar Blue Ridge Mountains a Already half the berths Neither were gazing Continued on Page 91

Page 24

complex to experien v Th d forn } m pout you s¢ no way if at rene THE SATURDAY EVENING FROM TH POST August 20,1927 BRIDGL e Royal Mail Screw Steamship ‘‘Gallia”’ own n¢i- ce it. Sailors merely get it in And this is quite natural, since re opportunity to find out all about it. it you really get the feel of most brought into intimate contact. confidence in the ability of the e 1 had ] ellent habits. in the Mediterranean, iter commissioned as March j Carried From a only one man; responsible. On one of the In Collaboration With James R. Crowell trips across a soldier of German parentage shot himself rather than go to war against the fatherland of his people. The most troops she ever carried on a single voyage were 5200. She made eight trips all told, and the morale of the men bound on this grim mission was splendid. There was never any trouble. The Royal Mail Paddie Steamship ‘‘Asia’’ By Capt. Sir Arthur HH. Rostrom equipment of six-inch to repel the U-boats. urpase of camouflage has been exter sively misunderstood. It dows not make a ship invisible at sem, but simply hides the direction she is taking, which will be recognized as a vital function when it is recalled that the speed and direction of the moving target are h portant factors in timing torpedoes. guns Che | ighly im- Once or twice we were fired upon ‘by submarines, only to see the torpedo cut the water several hundred yards off from us. It was during this that the Mauretania went time The Ship's Gardener Waters His Plants Throughout the war, but particularly during the period the Ma the German submarines were a grave menace to Allied ship- ping. Most transports insured the safety of the fighting men they had aboard by under convoy of destroyers. lretania Was in commission a troopship, making the perilous voyage To my knowledge only t the Mauretania, These vessels went out alone and escaped unscathed, thanks primarily to their speed and secondarily to their camouflage and their hree ships were an to this rule th 1e Aquitania and the Olympic. exception through one of those trying ' ich have the effect ringing a ship and the it i each other New , With every ho navigate into closer touch with We were bound York to Er able from aval inch of seeping space occupied by the troops The weather was foggy when we nosed our way out of New York Harbor, and remained that way throughout the entire passage, except for a single day of fair visibility By Dead Reckoning raed weather just one thing to the « tain of a passenger-carryir means ap vessel: He goes to the bridge and stays there, the few hours of except tor leep he able to snatch when physical exhaustion requl rest. Owing to weather, res that he obtain some the thick neces It Wa ary to dete line ou bearings on dead reckoning which is to measure spé and thus gauge position revolutions of the pro lers. The utmost precisior is needed to prevent error in such calculatic together with knowledge of the capabilities of your ship and wit! confidence that she will do what is expected of her ’s End, the extreme southwestern point of England, to the east of which is the English Channel and to the west St. George’s Channel. i I was on the bridge when we neared Land cn is reached Our destination was Liverpool, whi by altering the course to a more northerly direction here and proceeding through St. George’s to the Irish Sea, of which Liverpool is an important port. (Continued on Page 70)

Page 25

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

MY LIFE=By HERMINE OSTWAR Germany deliberately ignored the exile in Doorn. Wewho loved the Emperor were completely paralyzed by the blow that had

‘ Ww turned our world \ topsy-turvy. 3 ‘ t Mindful of the ex- mminencs , ample of Russia, d we feared that speal Germany would Ka : pass through the y n last inferno of Bol- Butw shevism before ‘ aclic Wa achieving eco- ng ‘ nomic or political cussed the t stabilization. With She was es} . the ghastly fate of frank with hern the Romanoffs tre t} é still vivid in our Counte memory, we were a he me glad to see the gave a thought t Emperor and his erself. Th consort, Empress tl th ’ Augusta Victoria, ed he bra safely installed at il te ‘ Amerongen, in bo was love Count Bentinck’s love f é picturesque castle Gren and tor he overlooking the husband. The fat Rhine. The an- of the Kaiser ar cient double moat f her eldest of the castle, anti- worried her m quated for purpose r all. of defense, still rhe ldr barred unwelcome BAT 3. were mature a! intruders. Our z ey ' aiengl a : married. The good wishes fol- The Victoria Rose Garden in Doorn, in Memory of the Late Empress had households lowed the Em- their own. ¢ peror when, unwilling to trespass indefinitely upon the The Dutch climate, the campaign of Lloyd George to fronted with economic difficulties, harassed by many a hospitality of Count Bentinck, he purchased House Doorn, — hang the Kaiser, the shock of the revolution, solicitude for noyances, they at least breathed the air of their ow a few miles from Amerongen. Holland, we were convinced, — her children, pitilessly combined to assail the ailing heart country would never surrender the Kaiser to his enemies. of Empress Augusta Victoria. Possibly a visit to Nauheim The Crown Prince alone, like his father, was living I often thought of Emperor William in the black days would have saved her life. Such relief was denied her. A exile. He vegetated in Wieringen, in a wretched little that followed the revolution, but I did not write to him. proud woman, as well asa loving wife, shesuffered intensely but his wife Cecilie was waiting for him at home I had no message of cheer. To condole with him would under the humiliations to which her husband had been sub- have seemed at best an impertinence. Wealldweltinafog jected. The Emperor manifested the tenderness of his af- Posthumous Unselfishness of uncertainty. Life was a nightmare. fection for Augusta Victoria in every possible manner. Her ‘Surely,’ I asked myself, “‘I shall wake up from this sons adored her. Her ladies in waiting would have gone 'P\HE Kaiser had no one to whom he ld turn after t dream?” through hell-fire for her. She was surrounded by love. death of the Empress. The Kaiser, the Empress knew Holland and the Emperor seemed far away, almost as Toward the end of her life Empress Augusta Victoria needed someone to mother him. All men, after all, are cl far as Barbarossa in his mythical cavern. Then something was confined to a wheel chair. She accompanied the Kaiser dren to their wives. The strongest man, in certain moods happened that completely altered the situation. On April on his walks through the park of House Doorn, whenever only an overgrown bo Emperors are no exception 11, 1921, all Germany was shaken by the Augusta Victoria was tl nearnati news that Her Imperial Majesty, the tim of motherhood. Proudly as she had w press Augusta Victoria, had passed away : ~~ the crowr e missed the pomp of ti at House Doorn. The death of the Em- i oe a i * = empire less than the privilege of being press pierced the cloak of inertia that con- = ae < mother to all her peopl his sublima cealed our wounds. The tragedy of the —- mothe vod ger than tl Kaiser became once more icone ‘ es nt r e; ‘ é 1 uting every femir Sem ae x heart, prompted her to urge the Kais« With Thoughts of the Future rs, : en ige Without bitterns he « Pe wed er wi it the le of he TI\HE disaster of his fall and betrayal 2 d. Greater love th no womar was too great to be grasped by lesse1 a be ters of Eve cat é i men; it still left him a figure towering on x é ts of posthumous unselfishr Olympian heights. The death of his wife It was in 1918, a few months before t made him one of us, sharing with us the the empire, when her heart trou afflictions of all mankind. He was no ecame acute, that the Empre longer merely the monarch deprived of to Counte Br rfl sy for tl his throne, but a man, gray-haired and Kaiser to marry Pp le afte lonesome, bereft by a cruel and incom- ‘ He must ‘ prehensible fate of the most faithful, the iid to t inte most beloved of wives l , ‘ tt W William II disdained to exploit the uni n e, the castle at Cassel in Hesse versal grief for his wife to improve his , t Kaiser had gone t la political fortunes. Wilhelmshohe, by the way Ww ‘Feeling that my people have wronged t y as the reside designated me, I would not,” he remarked to me, the Germans for Nay III afte return to the throne unless they asked ender forme. Under no circumstances would I : ore ee } ( tess Brockdorff reported th wish to regain the crown if my restoration Prince Henry of Prussia, the Duchess of Brunswick and Crown Prince ! f Augusta Vict the Ki pia ed n y country in je¢ pardy - William at the Gatehouse in Doorn Continued on Page 94

Page 26

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST lg = GANGSTER any trouble getting all the gang. Danny took care of most of that, but we gave a lot of thought could trust, mighty sure that we hins that stuck out or eyes that were have E DID not fellows we wanted for the to who we and we wert iid not get men witn « together. Fletch had taught us that lesson. We but, of course, we could not be too particular. O Close lid our be st, | the fellows in the lower part of town were anxious to in with us. We worked but they found out that we ome the quiet somehow were rming a gang. They seemed to find out everything Danny did all the talking, » I was going to be the f the gang on account old man being a politi- All the fellows we talked 1ew that they would be retty safe if they played with me, and they all felt pretty sure that we would try some at the That is 1 1 a comebdac} nd of gang from uptown. the big trouble with gangsters; they do foolish things just to they are have very little make people think They , I often laugh at about game real brains what the papers Say master crooks and the great the underworld. they are all minds of Take it from me, stupid, and most of them are uckers. But that will come along a little later when I tell you how smart we were and lish and howdumb. As I say, j uptown vet how for ust as soon as the started that our gang shooting, all the crooks in district figured I would come | at them so that I would not look y¢ llow. [fell forthat, ack too, though Danny wanted to do it even more than me. So Danny talked with the guys we wanted, or thought we wanted, and pretty soon we had six fellows we we could trust. It ony st g tnem that were sure was not punted; we had to trust their too Nobody Can evel at will happen in a gun like we planning. i i were You bet that uptown gang was for us sure we Keeping its eyes open They were pretty would show up in their district id show them what “‘tough”’ really meant, and they were One them going to be ready lor us night you might catch wher willing to beat it without t. The very next night they were too stiff a = = ey might fight like soldiers ause they were full of hop. ound out later that 90 per cent of the gun shooters are pe fiends and they do their shooting when they are all ypped up with dope. Chat stulf gives them false courage and false strength, it did Coky Nott when he killed that cop. We Six Regular Fellows — } Danny w ttle enough. ‘I y were ready for anything as long as we led the way; but six fellows all picked out, I asked at he really knew about them, and it was 1d our hey were all game, as far as that goes, and ted to KnOW ® I was afraid that wanted for kil their records about me of them were ling somebody, collared later they might make me talk to them got x to the old man and save from being 1 did not want to protect them for something they did before they played with me, and I knew I would have to if they really got anything on me. Danny said he would find out. I never knew for six months where he went to find out, but after that time, when my old man had to protect the detective that was our friend for grafting, I learned that Danny went to him and wanted to know if any of the six we had picked were stool pigeons. Can you beat that? The dick said they ITLLUSTRATEDO August 20,1927 By Charles Francis Coe Br WILLIAM LIEPSE arm with the bullet. After that Slug was no good for fight- ing and he never had been any good for anything else, so he turned crook. He was not smart, and he got caught and was sent away. After he did his time, he got caught again and went for seven years. Now he was a stir bug that is, a guy that has served more than ten years. They call them stir bugs because being in prison is being in stir, and after you have been there ten years or more you are sure to be nutty. When a guy goes nutty in stir he does not show it much, but it is inside of him. He never believes any- body and all he thinks of is a way to fool people. He gets that way from trying to fool screws in the can. Screws are keepers. Up in prison a guy meets pretty nearly all stir bugs, and you should hear the ideas they give you. Now that I know what prison is like, I know what I am talking about. But I will not be astir bug. As long as Mary Dix is waiting for me, that fixes everything. But being in stir, I'll say, is a bad place to reform! Every time guys hear how much of a stretch I got to do, they know about when I am going to get out, and you should hear the schemes they put up to me on crooked jobs that I can work when I am free. That is the way prisoners get their money, and keepers like money the sameas everybody else. A pris- oner with money can buy a pretty easy stretch for himself, A Life Sentence genie a month ago a stir bug finished his bit and gotout. Hewent right totown and got there about dinner- time in the afternoon. He ate his dinner in a restaurant and before eight o’clock he was pinched again for sticking up an old guy that was supposed to have plenty of dough. For that he got ten years more, and that means life for him. He has got a funny cough the kind guys do not get over. I] never said aword, but I know the inside story on the whole deal. There is a man not more than ten cells from me that did it all. He did it out of sheer spite. Just before the stir bug was to get out he was atrusty, and he did something this other guy did not like. Sothe She Just Stood There for a Long Time, and I Reached Out and Caught Her Hand and Tried to Say Something, But Could Not were not and he thought they were “‘regular’’ and could be trusted. Danny did not tell him why he wanted to know, but just as soon as we pulled the raid he did not have to be told. He knew. The six men were Dutch Weldt, Nick Capos, Twist Burke, Dandy Farr, Gat Malone and Slug Dolan. Gat and Slug we let in because they were tough and used to fighting. Nick was a wop, and we let him in because we were afraid that the other wops might turn against us if we did not have one of them in on the gang profits as much as we were. Dutch and Twist were dead game and cunning. With Danny and me to lead, I figured we were pretty strong for anybody. I always pitied poor Slug Dolan. When I was a little kid he was a fighter, and I guess he was pretty good. He wona few fights and finally got a chance at the big clubs, but after he had made good he got in a scrape about a woman, and the woman’s husband shot at him and broke his right other guy tipped him off that this old man always carried about $5000 or $6000 on him When a guy is let out with a criminal record, five bucks and a prison suit that everybody recognizes, to say nothing of a haircut that is about as popular as that big chair with the wires on it, he has tough picking to get a new suit and get straightened around for afresh start. You can lay a bet he never will get a job. So the poor stir bug thanked this other prisoner and went after the old man. All on the quiet, the guy still in prison tipped a screw, and the screw tipped a city dick who was on the job waiting for the stick-up. The dick got a lot of credit and the stir bug got what is the same as life for him. But the guy within ten cells from me got his revenge and so squared it with the trusty for refusing him that little favor. That is what stir bugs are. They hate everything in the world, and I guess I do not blame them. But if I had known what they were when Slug was let into our gang, we would have avoided him. He was a guy and never said what he felt, but I found out quiet

Page 27

She Was a Bashful Kid and it Was a Long Time Beforel Learned That She Really Loved Me, All Right Why! afterward that he had made up his mind never to do time again and had decided to shoot his way out if he ever got cornered. Him and Gat Malone always carried rods. That was where Gat got his nickname. But we took them all into the gang and had them meet us in an upstairs room at Clancy's and talk things all over. We sent Twist up- town to watch the gang we were after and see how they acted and where and when we could locate the same bunch that came after us. It took him a week, but he finally learned that the best chance we had was to drop down on them about two in the morning outside a little saloon that he named. We set the raid for the very next night, and when we left Clancy's everybody looked at us very quiet ind never said a word. I guess they knew who we were all right, and that they had better keep their mouths shut. A Visit to the Gang Uptown jee next night we went uptown separately. Twist knew a pl ace where automobiles were for hire and he went over and got one. He had the driver pick us up at different places, and when we were all aboard he told him to drive f us around a while. Automobiles were still fairly new then and people used to take them out just to nde in When two o'clock in the morning came, we told the guy to drive us to the little saloon. He pulled up and we got out. Every one of us had a rod in his pocket and, if we had to, we were all ready to start shooting through our coat ] yot to admit my heart was Jumping worse than it did that we rolled the dock foremar But, toc there wa THE SATURDAY EVENING POST something that made megoahnead 1 fe tprett Dig with such a gang behind me, ana we had brought along a quart of whisky and drar + aucome in we left it ‘ } ir r + e driver ke ng so we ou TY i t 4 ret . x aw Therest« ] n the l¢ iloor r » oO ( ! i ere Wt three ¢ ] istome the | , corner, Or f+} — of the me uway He had ome aown alter Danny pulled his rod and fly ‘T's let tly. Twist cut loose tor I saw the man at the bar fall down, and a funny look was on his face— just like he had for got everything he ever knew, and did not care if he had. The man behind the bar cursed as loud as he could, and you should have seen the men at the table. There were poker chips all over the room. Of course, the saloon was supposed to be closed and the curtains were drawn across the front windows. That helped us a little. For just a couple of minutes, 1 can tell you, there was a lot of shooting in that pla Then all the men were gone except two that lay still on the tloor. Gat Malone went right over the top of the bar and broke open the cash register. Twist took a couple of bottles of whisky and we beat it. We knew the papers would be full of the thing in the morning and felt pretty sure that gangs would keep out of our district after that Anything to Keep Out of Prison WHEN we got out to the automobile Slug was having a hard time with the driver. He wasstanding on the run- ning board and holding his gun square on the driver's head We all jumped in and Slug made the guy drive us away. It was easy to reach a different part of town. But we Just got started in time, because a cop came running toward tl saloon right after we got into the car. Slug made him duck into a doorway by shooting at him We took the driver across the town from where we were really going and then we drank most of Twist’ whisky. We were feeling pretty desperate by that time, and Danny said we ought to get rid of the car right away because maybe it was being hunted by the police When we got out we planned to separate and meet later at Clancy's. gut I never expected Slug to do what he did. The driver was pretty scared, but he never put up a fight. He looked mighty glad, at last to see us going. I told him if he knew what was good ; for him he would keep his mouth shut. He said he would, but Slug slid in close and shot him three time I almost fainted away, I guess, but it was done before I could stop it “You ain’t never been in stir,’’ Slug growled when I bawled him out. “‘I have. I ain't never goin’ back neither! Not if I can shoot my way out! That guy would know us if we ever git jammed up over this, ar 1 ain't takin’ chances! You can see for yourse if what a stir bug is! They are crazy. If I had my way, knowing what | know now, | would sentence all men to death if they deserved more thar ten yea! | mean, after ten years in stir, guys are cra 4 4 s . . « : t ye é ‘ a te ear lin ‘ ecause the A t 4 t 4 ‘ get t tne a te I j ae t j funr iT y from me. bu i me l NY what pr ne tsb Hout ar b b 1ae Of Nard t sirty t b I té k t a met g that é ‘ to mart to i m t tne uu i ust ‘ " as It to vou. thers mu graft going | ever pulled off when I was out. Mayb f n't wise to it too! I| have gota WW th Aus | . ne 4 . ew t? if v , | ere Alw | Na i | “lug 2) i \ J ( e mig! ( \ tne est oOo. tne yang were too | mean it me thing to g ‘ f We it it il ther ist t ia poor ¢ a F f } ng We se ack to Clar place. I knew ! ite | walked that Clancy was wise to what had ened, but ! x1) acked a thing | went upstalr ind Siug and i wist and Gat were there Right uiter me Danny breezed it Not one of our gang had been hurt a But wea oked pretty white and nobody had muct f anything tosay. I can remember, now, that all of them ed at Slug nad « inny trom time to time, and ail « them were a littl weer and jumpy. We drank a lot of whis that night and none of us left Clancy unt t Was breakiast time When Guns are Good Things Not to Have ops ALLY Nick Capos took all our guns and Jpped out the back way and threw them into the river. It wa a good thing we thought of that Later on you will se what a fine mess would have come if we had kept them Just after N b ame back, the detective trom the tatior house came in. He was scared and nervous and I could ses that he had not been sleeping any all night A fine lot of mugs you are!” he snarled ; US “Why did you wear signs on your back with all your names ‘Did somebody make us?” Gat asks, meaning did some body know who we were “What did you expect?” the dick cracks back. ‘Cer tainly they made yo i' Whob imped that poor chump tl Continued on Page 141 I Got Just Whatl Planted —a Dirty, Rotten, Crooked Little Rat!

Page 28

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 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 All Newsdealers. By Subscription: To the Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Colombia Ecuador, Guatemala, Haiti, Isle of Panama, Paraguay, Spain and Uruguay, $2.00 the Year Order, Express Money Order, Check Five Cents the Copy From United States and Possessions Costa Rica, Cuba, Dominican Republic Mexico, Newtoundland, Nicaragua Salvador Pines, Labrador Peru, Republic of Honduras Remit by U.S. Money payable in U. S. Funds 52 issues) or by Draft lo Canada—By Subscription, $2.00 the Year (52 issues) S. Funds Single Copies, Five Cents—Canadian or L lusive of those mentioned, by subscription, Remittances by Postal or Express S., payable in U. S. Funds. lo Foreign Countries, ex« post paid, $6.00 the Year (52 Money Order or by Draft on a bank in the L is#ues) PHILADELPHIA, AUGUST 20, 1927 The Income Tax Again [’ THE average citizen were asked how to improve and _ simplify the Federal income tax, he might reply with the story, told at a meeting of specialists to discuss this subject, of the man who went to a store to buy calico lie said that his wife would object to the first because the pattern was too big, and she second piece because the pattern was t he would not care for the third sample 00 small because the color was too bright, and he scorned the next exhibit on the ground that his wife might find the color ’ said the clerk; “it’s a this distasteful, nerve-racking and ition of eombpir ation of a thousand fine-spun legalities, all the higher mathematics, is not an imme- ikelinood, Fortunately at the last session of Con- there reated a Joint Congressional Committee Was { Internal Revenue Taxation for the express purpose of ing and simplifying the law. For months now ex- mprov f +} mploy of the committee have been at work, and itizen with specifie recommendations to make should rward them to Room 452 of the House Office Building in ommittee must have recommendations ready for when it again convenes, and if taxpayers fail to r views at this time it will ill behoove them f the complexities of the law in the future. be that the busy man of affairs doubts if his ve much attention on their way through But representatives of the public and have been appointed to confer with ommittee, and these representatives who are in close touch with the busi- as the American Manufacturers States Chamber of Commerce, and Association have committees on taxa- » that practical suggestions from mem- hannels. lifying the income tax may prove ty. But if the tax is to be retained, there is widespread hope that the terrors of its complexities may be substantially abated. The law as it is enforced consists in reality of seven separate statutes, all adopted within a comparatively short period of years, and of rulings, regulations and court decisions almost beyond the counting. The whole is a nightmare not only to the business world but to several million individuals acting in a solely individual capacity. The income tax started out with reasonable simplicity, but has grown complicated, first because of high rates, and second because of incessant demands for certainty and fairness—that is, a thousand and one cases had to be pro- vided for to prevent hardship and injustice and to insure equal and like treatment of like situations. To attain even a modicum of fairness it has been necessary to sacrifice simplicity. Yet those in closest touch with this form of taxation hold out a ray of hope. The great majority of taxpayers do not need to have thrust upon them intricate and endless provisions that apply only to exceptional individuals or to corporations of the type that employ lawyers and ac- countants in any case. There is no good reason why men and women who pay a few hundred dollars or less should be forced to wade through minute technicalities that do not concern them. It may be possible to introduce an optional! short-cut form whereby the taxpayer may avoid practically all com- putation through choosing a flat deduction of, say, twenty- five per cent, covering everything. In most cases it is common knowledge that the Government would gain rather than lose by throwing overboard a large part of the meticulous baggage now employed. But it is not our purpose at this time to discuss the details of the income tax. Rather we urge upon the many citizens experienced in these matters to do more than inwardly sizzle with discontent. Let such feelings harden into definite suggestions for betterment. Feeding the Mob HE problems of transportation in New York City are But they are not to be solved by political catchwords or overcome while extraordinarily complex and difficult. there is abject fear of votes. Although nearly all other cities, large and small, have discovered that urban transit systems cannot operate on a five-cent fare, the nickel is still the sole unit in America’s metropolis. The retention of such a low fare makes a simple, easy talking point for those who deal in political tactics, but serves, unfortu- nately, to restrict and limit municipal credit and thus pre- vent or postpone further construction of transit lines. The beauties of a five-cent fare can be expounded to the most undeveloped mentality, whereas the intricacies of debt limits, dual contracts, preferentials, and the like, do not hold much of interest for the general populace. Yet the facts are clear and plain enough. One can only gape in astonishment that economic realities should so long be held in abeyance by political and personal legerdemain and obfuscations. It appears that some years ago the city agreed with the two leading transit companies to invest several hundred million dollars of its own money in new subways to be operated by the companies. The two companies had pre- viously furnished transportation in entirely different parts of the greater city, and had therefore not been in competi- tion. But apparently the city authorities felt that the com- panies should compete, and in return for this insistence the companies demanded and received a preferential pay- ment out of earnings before the city received anything on its own great investment. For a number of years now, since the tunnels were built, this agreement has been in effect, and all the time those in political control have prevented any increase in the fare, although the companies have begged and besought that such action be taken. The companies themselves have got along fairly well, for the obvious reason that they are practically guaranteed an income on property which they do not own, while with a five-cent fare the owner is pre- vented by contract from earning a penny. August 20,1927 Because the income at five cents a ride, often for dis- tances of many miles, is not enough to pay more than the companies’ preferentials, the city has an inert investment of some three hundred million dollars on which it receives no return. If a larger fare were charged, the city would naturally receive an income; under the terms of state law its great capital investment in subways would at once be released from the debt limit, and the city could then sell ample issues of bonds to build more subways on a scale befitting its colossal needs. The city can no doubt increase its borrowing capacity through special legislative dispensation. But common sense does not approve of its having a dead, unyielding investment of three hundred million dollars in transit facil- ities as well patronized as are the New York subways, when the addition of two or, at the most, three cents to the fare would so greatly expand and strengthen both its legal and its actual financial condition. must Police and fire protection, parks and schools come out of the taxpayers. But for the same taxpayers also to furnish the people with transportation for five cents, ofter for distances which under strictly commercial conditions would cost twenty-five cents or more, is altogether too reminiscent of throwing bread to the Roman mob. It was once thought that the five-cent fare would dis- tribute a great population and thus prevent residential and slum congestion. But the very cheapness of transit has probably influenced industries which should move to the outskirts to remain in the central areas, and by drawing labor to them has added to congestion. The people would no doubt prefer to ride for nothing, if the matter ended there. There are always newspapers and politicians ready to show that great economic problems are as simple as that. It is easier to amuse the people with cartoons of traction lords wearing stripes, or at least pictured as bloated plutocrats, than it is to reason out the whys and wherefores of municipal credit or, by discrimi nating logic, to show the eventual evil of subsidies. New York’s transportation troubles should be of interest to other parts of the country, if for no other reason than because of the lesson taught. Too often the people prefer to be amused by a so-called campaign, or by an empty, flashy shibboleth, rather than to have their economic needs cared for. that is, portation. It has not been able to find the money to pro- What New York requires is circulation trans- vide adequate transit facilities, for the simple reason that it has been choking its own credit, out of deference to a slogan. What could be sillier? A New Idea For Sportsmen RGANIZATIONS of sportsmen all over the country may study with profit the novel idea originated by Capt. Paul Mason and k:‘s fellow members of the Central Ohio Anglers and Hunters Club and put into operation by them. This plan, which has for its end the wider application of sound methods for the conservation of natural resources, is designed to encourage the study of outdoor life of all varie- ties. The method proposed is for sportsmen’s organiza- tions to inaugurate, as a permanent part of their programs, the awarding of scholarships in schools equipped to give thorough training in the scientific study of various con- servation problems. Many strong and wealthy associations can easily afford to give yearly scholarships, or complete scholarships, in forestry, fish culture, entomology or advanced biology to students desiring such courses as a basis for their life work Those not so strong, numerically or financially, can give summer-school scholarships, as has already been done by Captain Mason's club. This summer the protégé of the f club is making an intensive study of the marine life of Lake Erie. Next year the scholarship will cover a course in forestry. In view of the variety of our natural resources and the diversity of our sportsmen’s interests, the possibilities of this plan would appear unlimited. The way to make sound, progressive conservationists is to catch them young and give them the best training the country affords

Page 29

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Al MAIN UAL Ol EIDUCAITION FOR ale EIDUCAI EID = By Corra Harris HE purpose of education in this country is to provide young people with an estate that cannot be lost or diminished by any misfortune. It is a sort of paid-up insurance against the meanest of all poverty pauperism of mind and spirit—which begins with the public schools and includes other state institutions where tuition is free. As an ideal it is without a flaw. Not even a communist can find fault with it, since the same instruction is pro- vided for the children of men who pay no taxes as for those whose fathers pay all the taxes. And out of consid- eration for everybody’s prejudices, whether radical, ra- tional or religious, neither morals nor religion is taught, The latter being no more than speculation in the theory of morals, as only literature, history, science and ethics. easily construed to satisfy one kind of man as another. There is, however, something queer about ideals: They are conceivable, but never attainable. And something equally queer about us, poor literalists that we are of our own human nature, who do forever struggle to reach them. Thus the aspiring history of mankind is a record of dam- aged ideals, torn to shreds by our effort to adapt them to our mortal moods and tenses, our theories, creeds, politics What gods we have had, and discarded for nobler gods, and for One and hand-to-hand conflicts with each other. Great God — not to be changed by any of them, only lifted a little before the illusion fades. What towers and cities we have built, and left buried and forgotten in the desert sands. How many worlds we have conquered, only to bite the dust at last, and leave all worlds unconquered. How many systems of philosophy we have proved, but remain no wiser than usual, heirs still to the limitations of our nature which cut deeper than all wisdom. What epics we have written to the rhythm of the hero's stride, when there were no such heroes among us—-myths created to trans- figure our own conceits. We simply think it, write it, and then believe it, mortal children to the last, teased by great illusions, sightseers of ideals, sensible in all else, but by some sublime enchantment of the spirit forever striving to fit greatness to our littleness. Endowed with a foreign quality of majesty which never concedes the immeasurable difference and distance be- tween the real and the ideal, we are determined to join them together in the wedlock of our strictly human affairs. We are hybrids—partly spiritual and imperishable, partly carnal and totally perishable—the obvious missing link between mortality and immortality which no mere ration- alist will recognize. But he digs up the foundations of the earth searching for that other missing link to prove his origin from a lower species and never finds it--some bone will be missing, or there is one bone too many—-when the very beast from which he is evolved may walk by his side, braying to remind him of the fact! I cannot see that it makes much difference how we came to pass; the significant thing is that we are carnally bred and have immortal minds. This accounts for the passion we have for ideals and the frightful damage we do to them, like mortal children trying on holy garments that drag in our dust. We wear them out. If we are ever destroyed, it will not be by our sins but by some ideal we have worn and torn until it becomes a vicious and entangling snare. By some such process of the fading and brightening of our aspirations, education has become the consuming ideal of the noblest minds among us. To wipe out illiteracy va l and abolish ignorance is the slogan of our civilization. chasm between Teaching must bridge the classes and masses, one lofty level of intelligence, the same standards, one common mind to serve. This must bring adjustment, tolerance, the long-desired sanity of peace and power Thus they set the bright mark of their faith upon the fore- heads of American youth and pledged them the tuition fees of a great salvation. Continued on Page 127 a, _@ C - f.to — £ 4 a KIPLING 5 TROLLOPE we mam THACKERAY Es ; = ul Ch a aa Life © oh ae sy cecn ! RHODES Y* . 4 , e?"> DISRAEL a te ~ SPENCER fe mf re ae Ps eb. ; tS) CHARLES my DICKENS — i rat eh apa ial Me imate a ai i 4 Hey ‘ nt ij & : a eit nl ma et - , AS THE VICTORIAN ERA | aus a £4 ye} INTELLECTUAL YOUNG es wes THE BIG LAUGH

Page 30

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 INCOR of Philosophy ITTING in the motor- bus, I conned the booksellers’ advertise- ments. A history of phi- losophy was piling up colossal sales; the pub- lishers boasted that ere long it would reach the half-million mark. So the great public had discovered philoso- phy! What would be the effect of this craze, I pondered. Would phi- losophy bring peace and wisdom to the world? Theroad was too rough for reading. I leaned for- ward and addressed the bus driver, “‘ How far do you call it to Catatonk?”’ “‘T couldn’t rightly say. We used to call it six mile from Johnson's sugar bush.”’ Hesighed. “But conceptual space differs so greatly from the space of sense experience that a fellow can’t tell very well if ler mongers make their hatreds known, space as a category is valid them no reply, good son and daughter. for the external world. hy pool in which you cast a stone Space, after all, is only a vatter you with filthy water. mutual apartness of ob- “Did Ya Read in th’ Papers About This Lindbergh an’ Them Other Aviators Flyin’ Acrost th’ Ocean?"’ ‘Nope. What Paper Was That In?"’ Slander Arthur Guiterman. jects LYK\ ICH . warm Wee grees - 3 | pee vin Ms, , p= - ° 7 oe Tue AEBS Es) rea | ee TA LORS if Bet SA ge f Si //orsj » Wee MTR however, a true realization of the abso- pine ER ai lute idea, the Universal.” ' The bus, halfway off the concrete, jounced over a culvert in the soft shoul- der. “Jim is gettin’ to be a turrible Hege- lian,’ commented a farmer’s wife brightly. “Is anything real? I often think that the world is only an idea in my mind. That bridge over Roaring Kill, ahead, for instance; does it exist? Supposing it exists, is it what it appears to be to my perception and what I conceive it to be in my mind? Doyouexist? Probably not.” The bus, at forty miles an hour, grazed first the left side, then the right side, of the bridge. After a moment I concluded that I continued to exist. The driver pursued, “You may call me a solipsist x a ensigns aire (Continued on Page 121 t Have You Ever Considered They Were All Once Upon a Time — To Lucasta, Returning From the “Let it go—let it go. What time do you figure we should Shore hit Catatonk?”’ “That there’s a pretty big question. How do you cog- nize time? Is it the perceived sequence relation of in- T! LL me not, sweet, I am remiss, dividualized stages of change and the attendant aspect of That from your glowing cheek duration? Then it is grounded in the relating activity of ind id neck no fervent kiss the mind. Hence the future, unperceived by the mind, caress I seek. cannot exist. If the future don’t exist, why, I reckon we'll never get to Catatonk.” I erstwhile loved to touch “But I’ve got to see the hay-and-feed dealer there at iades the fond go-getter ; 10:15, and it’s ten now!” ander, dear, too much, “It’s ten now, is it? Then the present exists for you? r sunburn’s better. You conceive time to be a thing-in-itself? I hold with praesent Corinne Rockwell Swain. Kant that it is only a phenomenon. Every occurrence is, Barber to L After Lovelace ady Customer (Absently): ‘‘Shave, Sir?’’

Page 31

tn i ig Campbell’s Asparagus Soup Puree of fresh young shoots of asparagus, blended with country butter and garnished with tender asparagus tips. Richer still served as a Cream of As} aragus Soup. Campbell’s Bean Soup Choice beans are cooke i, strained and combined with a puree of carrots and celery, a flavoring « tables and temptingly seasoned. ’ Campbell’s Beef Soup For those who like an especially generous amount of it, in solid pieces, in their soup. Besides these, are beet bre thd d carrots, potatoes and celer tomatoes, barlev, onion, parsley and seasoning. Real, nourishing food. Campbell’s Bouillon A Clear Soup, remarkable for the strength of its invi ting beet br th. Flavore 1 with ¢ ] han Camphbell’s Consomme. Valuable for invalids als Campbell’s Celery Soup Wholeson Z healthful vevetabl fon of yvreat ss. Snow-white celery, nourishing butter produce a soup of , prepared as a Crean ot Celery Sou] Campbell’s Chicken Soup Chicken broth combined with blanched Patna | ing. Excellent also for ch Campbell’s Chicken-Gumbo Soup Loutsiar { Cy ol lish. Chicker br th, tor ato pu c , pa herbs, blended with di hicker Campbell’s Clam Chowder Cherrystone cla ke spec lly ce cious prepared with milk or cr Campbell’s Consomme \ ler among the Clear Soups. The soup for the formal dinner. Invigorating broth of fine beet, delightfu Campbell’s Julienne Soup The Clear Soup th t is so ofte selected for th asion, iz i init | beef broth are added whol Campbell’s Mock Turtle Soup Its unusual flavor makes it an imme wherever it S served. Tempting pieces of calves at are blended in a rich beef broth, with tomat celery, herbs and a dash of the true European flavoring CR fed ie). & THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘ou Can vary the soups you serve! _ “~WENTY-ONE different kinds of Campbell's Soups! A complete daily service to the housewives of America! Vegetable Purees. Meat Soups. Clear Soups. All the popular favorites, led by Tomato Soup and Vegetable Soup. In addition many unusual soups which will give freshness and novelty—‘‘something different” to your meals. Take full advantage of them. Let Campbell’s Soups help you every day to vary your menus. Your grocer has them all, or will gladly get them for you. A complete list of these soups is printed on every label. 12 cents a can. \ * -y Omppe ct Soup Company SS CAMDEN. W.U.. USA er Campbell’s Mulligatawny Soup | Chick ot the O r A tre \ Fast India chut | Campbell’s Mutton Soup health-giv + xt Campbell’s Ox Tail Soup Men esp l sod an at hor Campbell’s Pea Soup Rich in w is | sa am of Pea S Campbell’s Pepper Pot \ n'ss It’s the real “ Phila Campbell’s Printanier Soup The Clear Souy i gtime b Campbell’s Tomato Soup ot sweetened tomatoes, b wit Campbell’s Tomato-Okra Soup } \y ! ’ vt * Southern Gumbo st Campbell’s Vegetable Soup The ft t t i ( | b Campbell’s Vegetable-Beef Soup Ving Tast SouPS DINNER = SUPPER The most px s worl Pure, tor

Page 32

30 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST WIN TE ELF xIV August 20, 1927 By ARTUR STRINGER ILLUSTRATED Br ROBERT w. STEWART INSLOW, as Casey Crowell maneuvered for a landing nearer the shore line, saw other plane had preceded them in to Lake Wapanapi. He even resent ruder, an interloper, and the frown face deepened per- \ turned back to study ling so indolently on the open resting so confidently where d its presence there as an in- water, it wasn’t wanted Winslow thought at first that it was a press plane. But Casey, heel- ng down into the lake water and lrifting toastop along the low swells, put him right on that point. Air Service he explained. ““They’ve Remi Lake, about fifty But I im- agine this bi in from the Haileybury base on Lake Temiscam- ing. They’ve been carrying supplies into the new Rouyn district. But they seem to have poked a finger in That’s their canvas boat SOOT ““That’s a Laurentide machine,” a base at miles west of Cochrane. rd’s come this pile. pulled up on the beach there.” Winslow proffered no immediate this information, and further effort at ex- knew, have to be'’made for the Big That old fighter, Casey response to Casey made no Allowances, he planation. would Boss. remembered, was staggering grim- willed across a new kind of battle- 1. He wasn’t a whiner, of course, face, to the discreet-eyed r, hada worn and trampled ike a strawberry patch pickers had worked it And Winslow even in those mellower moods when he had some- times looked as large and benignant and deiusively tender as a zoo lion shortly after feeding time, wasn’t a man to be trifled with in his hour of trouble So Casey held his peace. He sat blinking out over the lonely saw- toothed edge of the pinelands until his passenger heaved a great sigh and began to unbuckle his seat straps. ‘“‘Let’s get ashore,” growled Win- slow. That growi, the younger man knew, was a whistle to get mere “‘Meeting emergencies is a part of my profession,’’ Peter announced with unlooked-for quietness. That seemed to steady the un- happy Winslow a little. But his brow remained clouded. “How in God’s name,” he manded in a none too steady \ “is a man going to save them?” “By finding them!” But Peter’s professional crispness was lost on the other. “‘It’s not that. What I mean is save them from themselves, from this world that seems to have gone mad since we were young.” “Tt’s no madder than it used to be.” “But your own flesh and blood; you’ve got to get them set straight set straight with honor and clean living and all that.” “‘I can’t see any short cut to it,”’ was Peter’s slightly retarded reply “You can’t say ‘Be pure girls, or I’ll whale the hide off you Sut even the acidulated smile faded from Peter’s lips before he went or again. ‘‘ About the best we can do I think, is to keep them as close as we can in our loving-kindness trust to luck.” He moved uneasily, with abashment of a reticent man emerg ing from a surrender to feeling. “T want to save ’em,”’ mutt the man with the tired eyes. “Then let’s get busy at it,”’ claimed Peter. But Winslow still hes compelled his heavy gaze to that of the younger man. “But you don’t understand this,” de- oice, in heart, tated. he said, coercing himself to calmness ““My girl—Jinny—Jinny has gone away with an Indian named Black Arrow.” The silence was only a momentary “*She won't go far quiet response. “Do you know anything abou Black Arrow?” “No,” said Peter; Jinny.”’ Still again a moment’s hung between them. “‘I hope to God you’re right!’’ And that cry seemed one. ” was Peter's “but I kn slience past the gravey:s For they were a little afraid of what might or not be awaiting them just } ne fr potr Yet when they were close enough to wade to land, Casey, is own, preferred to remain with his flying boat. ‘‘ There’s still a leak in that water jacket,”’ he or reasor inced take-off.” anno ick here and get things ready for a But his eyes were stern and his t as he climbed the broken slope toward le tried to walk calmly, even though the ! heart kept prompting him to hurry. rest of the hill he came face to face with a man in iy golf suit I man, he saw, was Peter Summers. It was Peter Summers, looking absurdly spick-and-span and pallid-faced n the revealing white sunlight. » you doing here?’’ demanded Winslow, trying e in his knees. I imagine, that you’re doing,”’ was curt retort. Yet one glance told him, , the strain the older man was under. The e looked gray and haggard and the heavy ped, giv t iom bore a look so stricken. ‘You know what’s happened?” asked Winslow, resent- I usatory air which hung about the younger man. , handed him the roughly scrawled note iy had left pinned to the door. Winslow’s face he reaaq it, ing a wordless air of pathos to the eyes She Studied Him Once More—Studied Him With Eyes That Were Thoughtful and Honest and a Little Shadowed “That means they’re both out there,” he said, with an all-too-betraying quaver in his voice. “‘You know that Jinny’s lost somewhere in these woods?” Peter said, ‘‘ Yes.”’ Winslow, for some reason, found it hard to go on. He was staring at the deserted cabin. ‘“‘We’ve got to get busy,” he suddenly proclaimed. ‘Time counts in a case like this. We had a forced landing and lost a day.”” His eye was opaque as he turned back to Peter. “‘How ’d you get in here?”’ “T hired that flying boat at Haileybury,” explained Peter. ‘‘But Bodkin, my pilot, is none too sure of this country; and Jinny’s letter didn’t make things any too clear for me.” **Ah, you had a letter from Jinny?’ “That’s what brought me here,” was Peter’s curt retort. Yet he regretted it, a moment later, when he observed the quivering underlip of the older man. ‘‘And you intended to take her out?’ asked Winslow. “*T still intend to take her out,’”’ proclaimed Peter, with an altogether new and steely note in his voice. Winslow preferred not to meet his eye. He stared at the clothesline of braided rawhide from which swung a narrow- shouldered jacket of sack hemp. “T thought I—I was doing the right thing,” he said, try- ing his best to steady his voice. “‘ But it’s—it’s turned out wrong. It’s* ‘ly an awful mix-up, Summers.” ’ wrung from the depths of the older man’s soul. talking. What we want right now action.” “I’m ready,” proclaimed Peter. party, of course. How many men can we get? “Only what we’ve got right here.” “How about bloodhounds in a case like this?”’ “Bloodhounds! This isn’t Alabama!’’ Winslow cried with unexpected spirit. ‘‘What we've got to do is comb this country with our flying boats, and we've still Sut it’s too late for “Tt means ¢ >» got seven hours of daylight for dragging thos¢ ““My pilot’s ready when you are,” Peter. ‘“‘He told me, by the way, that he’s been covering the trail into the Rouyn gold fields in less than one hour, where it so having announced used to take six or seven days of hard paddling these boats ought to be something in our favor.”’ ““We'll need ’em,’’ was the older man’s grim rejoinder. But he hesitated again, with the frown deepening between his bushy brows. Defensive gestures were not easy for him. “This whole thing,’”’ he suddenly proclaimed, ‘“‘would have come out all right if those outsiders had only left them alone.” “But that,”’ retorted the cool-eyed Peter, “‘is just the point. Outsiders never will leave them alone. They’re not made for being left alone.” Winslow made no reply to that. But when Casey came over the hill, a moment later, the older man silently handed Paddy’s hurriedly scrawled message to the young flyer. Continued on Page 32)

Page 33

me ——— y ee re eeateaetaeaate SATURDAY EVENING POST Enriched in Beauty Now, as a result of the surprising reduc- tion in all Pontiac Six prices, two great motoring luxuries are combined at the lowest price in history. Now $745 is the world’s lowest price for six-cylinder per- formance and Fisher body luxury—an achievement made possible by the manu- facturing economies effected in the mam- moth new Pontiac Six factory, recently completed at a cost of $12,000,000. As never before, does the supremacy of Pontiac Six value reveal itself to cold logic and comparison. Now its beauty is enriched by fashionable new Duco color combinations. Marvelous smoothnessand snap are achieved by the largest engine used in any six priced up to $1,000. Long life and high speed stamina are assured by Reduced in P an oiling system which forces 250 gallons of oil an hour through the engine at 35 m. p. h. Comfort and convenience are en- hanced by tilting-beam headlights with foot control, VV windshield, luxury type cushions and numerous other important features. These are vital factors of permanent satis- faction and high resale value which every buyer of a low-priced six is entitled to expect. They are but a few of the fea- tures which make today’s Pontiac Six a triumph of efficient production and ad- vanced engineering. Visit the nearest Oakland-Pontiac dealer. Learn how much more you get for your money with the world famous Pontiac Six now enriched in beauty and reduced in price! OAKLAND MOTOR CAR COMPANY, PONTIAC, MICHIGAN General Motors Products of Canada, Ltd.—Pontiac Division —Oshawa, Ontario > New and Finer 2-DOOR SEDAN New low prices announced July 15« n all passenger cars Sm AL , . S=OFr Coupe - - 145 Sport Cabriolet 795 — = Te! = Sport Roadster 145 Landau Sedan 845 Sn9 - De Luxe Landau Sedan "925 Pontiac Six De Luxe Delivery, $585 to $770. The New Oak land All-American Six, $1045 to $1265. All prices at factory Delivered pricesinclude minimum handling charges Fasy to pay on the General Motors Time Payment Plan

Page 34

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 30 he knew, he waited for some sign of sur- ery of alarm, from the lean-faced youth in But ’s manner was singularly tran- 1 back the rumpled oblong of birch bark. i right Casey | he quietly observed. t makes you so sure of that?”’ demanded Paddy’s ; nerves not entirely under control. iuse she’s so essentially the right sort,’”” was Casey’s answer. io you know what sort she is?’”’ barked Winslow. yw her much better than you imagine.’”’ And tood straight-shouldered and slightly defiant be- thunderous glance of his employer. seems to be only the outsiders who understand my proclaimed the none-too-happy Winslow. 1 I know one outsider,’’ asserted Casey, as he tight- 1 his belt, “‘who’s going to find her.” was Peter’s slightly acid ggestion, as his own pilot, looking remarkably like an unbuttoned fur-trimmed leather jacket, » over the hill and turned the trio into a quartet. after a brief conference as to the best method of sig- ‘Then supposing we get busy,” “(imo in Nis best courses to follow and the best landing [ case of emergency, they set off. Almost in unison the turned propellers sprang into life and droned with peed, the two wide-winged bulks gathered headway, the hull wakes became twin gushes of foam, and ‘rous roar of sound the two gondolas lifted rose in the hot air and circled gently out ling shore line with its saw-tooth fringe of ng and the aces In two widening ' er-widening ares, dipping and veering and ng the broken country under their cockpits. They | ly vi ribboned with waterways; they stretches of spruce land, wave by y circled over desolate inland lakes > fowl scurried to cover at their approach; i tacked and countertacked over muskegs ‘ lands. Once, when they were vier timber, Casey spotted a gray plume of smoke : he side of a crooked lake of hooker green. vith a new light in his eyes, only to find, and brush after an adroit landing in a narrow dog leg of water, a solitary and unloquacious old Indian drying whitefish on a smoke frame. Still again they saw smoke farther north, but when they zoomed over it Casey remembered it as a peat field that had been smoldering intermittently for a year and more. But they encountered nothing definite to reward their search. So when the late afternoon deepened into evening they flew wearily back to Wapanapi and taxied in under the lee of Adanak Island. Winslow sat silent and heavy-eyed as the gondola drifted in toward the shore shadows. And a loon laughed derisively out in the lake as Casey, stiff-kneed and slow in his movements, got out the mooring line. Casey turned and shook his fist at the unseen water fowl. Then he looked at the thick-shouldered man still seated in the cockpit. ‘“‘I’ll have to hop down to Elk Crossing for gas before breakfast tomorrow,” he said with achieved matter-of-factness. ‘‘Then we can flip out far enough to pick ’em up.” But Winslow was not listening to him. day gone,’’ he was muttering to himself. “When we make Big Squaw Lake tomorrow,” averred Casey, ‘‘we’ll strike something worth while. My hunch is that we’re going to hit ’em there.” Winslow’s face twitched. But he managed a smile, though a wintry one, as he clambered ashore. ‘ You’re all right, Casey,”’ he said with a listless sort of warmth. “‘ And they’re all right,’” proclaimed Casey, as he stared out over the darkening horizon of the pinelands, infinitely wide and desolate in the paling light. He even fell to whistling, thinly but determinedly, as he preceded the lagging Winslow back to the empty island camp. “It’s another xV LACK ARROW, being an Indian, was obviously a good tracker. His woodsman’s sense of direction was something more than dependable—it was infallible—and to follow a required trail, however tenuous, was with him little more than an instinct. Tracks talked to him with a radio all their own, and footprints had the habit of becom- ing garrulous. So it was easy enough, once he had fought out his fight and reached his final decision, to pick up the trail of the August 20,1927 wandering white woman. But a racial sagacity prompted him, on second thought, to paddle a mile upstream, cache his canoe deep in a poplar grove and rejoin the fugitive’s trail a good two miles from his last camping spot. It might be a long time, he remembered, before he would come that way again, and he wanted no interference with his movements until he had rescued his lost companion She had humiliated him, but she had to be found. She had used him, after the manner of her kind, but he had been glad enough to be with her. She had awakened him out of his wigwam lethargy, bringing back to him a breath of the world he had known and lost. But no man can ride two worlds, any more than he can ride two horses. He would always be foolish now in the older réle, just as she was foolish in trusting herself to his world, to the forest which the outsider so seldom understood. She was absurd there, as helplessly bewildered there as he would be amid the pallid crowds of Broadway. The sooner he got her out of those surroundings, the better; and the sooner he delivered her back to Wapanapi, whatever the cost, the better for them both. But he realized, as morning advanced and the sun streamed hot on those windless valleys, that he was not to catch up with her so easily as he had expected. She had struck through that wilderness with no uncertain step She had made her flight from him a humiliatingly precipi- tate one. Yet the frown deepened on his stoic face as he followed her footprints down to a wide and forbidding muskeg. He could see where she had hesitated, had gone on again, had struggled and stumbled from tundra ledge to tundra ledge. Then all record of her vanished. He remained thoughtful as he circled the more open spaces of the marshland. It was easy enough for him then to make a crossing, but his brow was cloudy as he studied the rising ground beyond the morass that bubbled in the hot air with its marsh gas. It was, he knew, no safe play- ground for a child of the city. He even feared at first that she had not emerged from that clutter of sink holes. Then he came up with her trail, unmistakable, eloquent of terror and exhaustion, and his face clouded again as he studied it. He knew by this time precisely what had happened. From that moment forward she was a lost woman. Continued on Page 114 She was Black Arrow Threw Himself Quer the Lip of Rock and Went Tumbling and Staggering and Sprawling Down a Long Slope of Loose Pebbles

Page 35

Sunbritt i Ueanser aie Everything shines in the City of Sunbrite 10.) eee OO was $0, pewic pt A Sunbrite cleans and sweetens the kitchen stove Keeping the kitchen stove clean is one of the burdensome tasks of housekeeping. It need not be. Here is an easy way to keep it spick and span. As soon as the stove is cool, scour off the stains and grease film with Sunbrite. You will be sur- prised to find how little time it takes. Sunbrite also destroys every trace of food odors. Its double action sweetens and purifies while it cleans and polishes. One simple cleansing process leaves your stove sanitary as well as surface clean. Sunbrite saves hours of scrub- bing and scouring in the kitchen. It combines economy with double efficiency, too. Sunbrite costs very little. Use it freely in all your household cleansing. Swift & Company THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

Page 36

34 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Tale MOCCASIN TELEGRAPH xV YNNE, having bound Har- rington to her by her cere- mony under the northern lights, was now willing to accede to his request that they le and travel about the country. ould tunnel the snow-blocked defile , or mount it and emerge from the sink ho He explained that he irive a slanting tunnel from the top near the far end to the level of the river. Lynne then other route to the top. with ease revealed the existence of the Taking the feat would fit secure] this route was something of a sling of caribou hide that At each of the hree difficult points Lynne adjusted this harness on each } dogs up by ) ] Dut they ructed round the body of a dog. aog in turn, wW ile Harrington, from the ledge above, hauled the animal up with a long rawhide rope. By means f this improvised elevator they transferred ten dogs and the sleigh to the top, thereafter leaving them in the dog between the first and second rims of the sink hole. lhere followed glorious runs across the white landscape, when corrTra they traveled far and slept in their fur sleeping bags while the dogs curled up in the snow, each with his tender ose protected from the bitter cold by burying the member bushy tail. They set snares and took the skins of f But al- on the big stone home. held its grip, although there were daily. Then came the sun, show- irst, then hanging each day for a few hours Iding a cold brilliant light upon Spring, with its first chinoos and sables, of ermine and an occasional fox. cabin a the flickering fire s best; a haven of refuge winter still riods of light and »wbound world. ts and sent surface water boiling across 1e snow disappeared from the open. | rough at the very edge of the thrust asparaguslike s at the foot of the alders. abbage swelled with life, preparatory to }ull moose had shed their massive A few bears dens and were nibbling a few And still re now unadorned. * new willow shoots. 1e streams. gazed aloft as a few silvery notes rt \ half snone on dozen swans reflected burnished silver. ‘What I Wish to Know First is This: How Did He Come to Have Lynne Up Here? Clamorous honking min- gled with the clarion notes of the swans and a long wedge of gray geese gab- bled joyously as they pitched down from the skies and made a landing on the tundra. As if this were the signal, the gorgeous spring of the Northland claimed the country. The feathered hordes swept in from their mysterious migrations in count- less millions. White banks of snow geese scurried through to nest in the tundra on the shores of the Arctic Ocean. Ducks of a dozen varieties came swishing up from the south, loons and grebes appeared, warblers and flycatchers flitted through the timber, plovers and curlews dropped down from the skies. A gang of half a hundred sand-hill cranes made a land- ing on a little knoll some distance from Clay and Lynne, and the two of them watched a strange performance. Wildly clamorous, the tall gray-plumed fellows bowed and scraped, extending long necks and curtsying, leaping upon first one foot, then the other, moving forward and back in the wildest and most expressive quadrille in all Nature the love dance of the sand-hill cranes. New migrants appeared daily and still the scurrying feathered hosts rushed on. The hiss of wings filled the air of nights, and through the gabbling converse of geese and cranes an occasional clear piping note of a homing plover or the shrill call of a curlew dropped from on high, as a distant silver bugle note cleaving through the din of battle. But the clanging of the feathered hosts was not the music of battle. It was the music of pulsing life and love, come again to greet the spring when the ice king released his grip on the frozen North. And Lynne and Clay reveled in the spring, as joyous and carefree as the creatures of the wild. They traveled far and swam in the streams that gurgled joyful release from the ice that had held them fettered for so long a time. And with the spring came Villiers, worn fine and thin at the end of a long, long journey. He had come clear from Track’s End since midwinter, having gone outside with the boats of the traders the pre- vious fall at the request of Ruvierre, the priest. “‘Laverne is up in here somewhere and he means no good,” Villiers stated after a brief greeting. ‘‘Have you seen him?” By Hal G. Evarts ILLUSTRATED BY ALBIN August 20,1927 Who Was the Olid Man of the North? And Who is Lynne?’’ “A man who called him- self McNair came here on no good errand,” Harrington informed. ‘But he is rest- ing comfortably in the arms of the devil, so his case can wait for the present. What I wish to know first is this: Who was the Old Man of the North? How did he come to have Lynne up here? And who is Lynne?” ‘Perhaps you recall hearing the tale that almost half a century ago Judge Kilrain suddenly dropped from sight Then, perhaps ten years later, a HENNING and was given up as lost. party of explorers, penetrating the edge of the Barren Grounds northeast of Great Slave Lake, ran into a recluse and recognized him as Judge Kilrain, though few believed it.” the occurrence, Harrington nodded to signify that he had heard of Villiers “He shifted range far to the west and was probably the first white man and resumed: his He made his permanent home here at the big falls, but prowled all of the tributaries of the Liard. natives of the country began whispering of the spirit of the North that dwelt in the phantom falls. The Nahané had never been up in this region, but held out along the main Liard. And even if they’d had the notion to come up this way later, the fear of the Old Man of the North would have So much for Kilrain. Liard country for some- to penetrate this Liard country It was forty years ago that the few scattered halted the superstitious beggars. ‘“‘He had been wandering the where round twenty years when one day he saw floating in a backwater eddy a small piece of white peeled log with a roll of birch bark round it, cloth. The message sent him hurrying off upstream. tied in place by two strips of He found a little hut of logs and mud in which a woman was dying. “*Now as to her part. ern family and loved a young man named Lynnhaven, of She came of a very wealthy East considerable personal charm, but who lacked material re sources. The family objected to his financial rating and vetoed the match. daughter was also blocked. Then suddenly, just after one A similar affair on the part of another sister had been married to a man of the family’s selection, the other disappeared. The family never heard of her again, although a sizable fortune was spent in the search for her The bulk of her father’s estate, when he died a few years Continued on Page 37

Page 37

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1927 brings new Ford ~ 35 conomy band replacements at the same time You say, “I'll spend so much this year for automobile expenses—and no more!’ But a single unforeseen repair bill can set your well-laid plans at naught. There's carbon deposit, for instance. And worn transmission bands. Carbon will come. Bands we// wear out. How soon? The new Gargoyle Mobiloil “E”’ swings the axe of science at the roots of these two commonest engine expenses It isthe oil for your Ford car (Model T that combines these two economies. Smooth starts are cheap starts The new Mobiloil ‘‘E”’ gives the smooth- est imaginable starting and stopping That is because the new Mobiloil ““E” keeps the transmission bands soft and pliable. This greatly lessens wear. You keep your bands longer than ever. This saving alone may amount to more than you spend for six months’ supply of Mobiloil “‘E.”’ By reducing carbon you automatically increase power. You get fatter, hotter sparks from cleaner plugs. Your valves seat better. Full compression is main- tained. Pistons are more completely sealed Less carbon reduces engine expense, on the one hand, and increases engine efh- ciency, on the other But the new Mobiloil ‘‘E™’ does not stop with these economics. There is an extra margin of safety to meet each de- mand of the Ford engine—the Ford onneree bt Ss. 09d. Mobiloil “E” for Fords about the handy 5-gallon tipper box and splash lubricating system, the Ford bear- ing clearances and the Ford operating tc mpecratures With Mobiloil ““E” you have few en- gine repairs to pay for because you have less wear, less friction Easy to prove 1t— Refill your crankcase with four quarts of the new Mobiloil **E”’ the next time you change oil The smoother starting and stopping will more than repay you for making the change \s time passes you will find also a marked lowering in engine expenses fewer carbon removals, fewer band re placements, longer life for spark plugs \ nearby Mobiloil dealer has the new Mobuloil “'I for vou. If you keep oil in your home garage, ask your dealet the newly designed 1to-gallon drum of Mobiloil ‘°E ify ~ 9 VA CUUM Oll COMP A NY MAIN BRANCHES New Yor’, Chicago, ‘Philadelphia, Boston, Buffalo, Detroit, ‘Pittsburgh, -Minneapolis, ot Louis, Kansas (it Dallas Other branches and distributing warehouses throughout intry

Page 38

THE SATURDAY TIVES may piead, friends advise and doctors scold, yet many men still avoid healthful foods that do not tempt their appetites with de- licious flavor. You ] need b yu Ik i rularity n your daily diet to insure health- Have you found a -bulk food you ell enough to eat every day? Millions of men and women have made Post's sran Flakes a daily health habit. This healthful rnishes them with bulk they need for regu- id they eat it every day because they like lavor. ners of your health and appetite by ranks of those who eat Post's Bran risp, brown everybody—every day flakes with milk or cream, just as they come from the package. Try them with fruits and berries, fresh or preserved. Cookies, bread, muffins—all are delicious when made with Post's Bran Flakes. In addition to flavor and bulk, this delicious food supplies such important food elements as iron and phosphorus, proteins and carbohydrates and the essential vitamin-B. Make this “Ounce of Prevention” Test! Try Post’s Bran Flakes with milk or cream every morning for two weeks as an “‘Ounce of Preven- tion’’. Each day you'll relish the flavor of the crisp, brown flakes. In two weeks’ time see how much better you feel. Then you'll be glad to make your health a good excuse for eating every day a food that tastes so good. Don't put off starting this important health POSTS BRAN FLAKES AS GN Ounce C) of prevention EVENING POST ND APPE August 20,1927 habit another day. ville”’ Keep on the “‘Road to Well- by eating Post's Bran Flakes regularly. Free! Send for the “Ounce of Prevention” Package. At your request we will send, free, the ‘Ounce of Prevention’’ package of Post’s Bran Flakes than enough to let you discover how more good this cereal is. Makers Post Toasties, Postum Company, Inc., Dept. B-18, Battle Creek, Mich of Post Health Products Flakes, Canadian Address Post's Bran Chocolate, Post’s Bran Postum Cereal, Instant Postum and Grape-Nuts Canadian Postum Company, Ltd., 812 Metropolitan Bldg., Toronto 2, Ont. “Now you ‘ll like Bran”’

Page 39

a a [= — (Continued from Page 34) ago, was left to the only child of the sister who had married according to family dictates. This child, a girl, was the only known living heir. A legacy of somewhat staggering proportions, however, was left in trust for the missing daughter or her heirs, in case she should reappear before a certain date. The father had never given up hope of her return. The fact that young Lynnhaven had disappeared also made it seem morally certain that the girl had eloped with him. “And she had—going West to join him in the new settle- ments of Alberta. From there, with two Indian helpers, they started into the North by canoe. They reached a flat prairie region now known as the Hay River country. It is still largely unexplored. The streams thereabouts meander in all directions. They made a portage from the head of one stream to another, believing that the new piece of water would take them back south to the Koochigak, up which they had come in the early summer. They had one canoe and most of the equipment across, when the two natives, returning for the other ca- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST to act as nurse for the white baby. That's about all of The Old Man of the North was Judge Kilrain, the nurse was Tanlika and the infant was Lynne. So there you are ‘“*So that's it,’ Harrington said. His mind’s eye traveled back over that Northland tragedy pened that Kilrain did not inform her people. Do you know?” “Yes,” Villiers said. ‘“‘He told me his reasons. He be lieved that every human mind was warped from birth by I wonder how it hap- the superstitions, taboos, conventions and ready-made convictions foisted upon it by its elders—faulty knowl- edge, the most of it, yet stated as fact, the belief of which was instilled by reiteration and enforced by fear. Even a superior mind, handicapped in infancy by such training, was faced with the task of striking off the shac kles of such erroneous mental processes before becoming capable of any clear and individual thinking. He had speculated at length as to the almost limitless possibilities of a keen mind that should start off free of prejudice, superstition and pre conceived ideas. What would result if such an unfolding ‘ t Kilr ( ig? A I g tor j t mmit t er v temper en = OW conventiona eCé& A “ render them wor ‘ origina Y 1W iid ] ter t ‘ nose of ar na iuai WNO was vé é t ] { the ema t 8 Ol a mind that w the or r ‘ st ence You would | e to ¥ it [rom UW atter ang pelore you would be abit t )put down every expression W scientific accuracy. But it would come to you as it did to K lrain Harrington nodded ‘He trie i the experiment and the end justified the means,”’ he said. “But I still can’t quit see how he felt privileged to arrogate to himself the shaping ol the destiny of a human mind how he ieit that it wa his right.” “There again is illustrated the difference betweer your mind as it is now and Kilrain’s mind when he found Lynne,” Villiers smiled. “‘Yours is the civilized mir speaking from conventional standard Kilrain had long since discaraec Civilization and noe, failed to reap- pear. It is likely that they had doubts as to where the stream would take them and sim- ply deserted as the safest expedient. The young couple shoved off. After two weeks of steady traveling the man knew what their north- west course pres- aged. They had crossed an almost imperceptible di- vide and this stream would con- tinue to carry them intothe North, and eventually intothe Arctic. It was a tributary of the Liard, emptying into it from the south several hun- dred miles above where this stream flows into the Liard from the north. But he did not know that. Only the mouth of the Liard, where it flowed into the Mackenzie, was known to the white men at that time. An early winter swooped down and standardized ; , modes ol Vilizea thinking — which, of course, meant the complete scrapping of the auty complex Ir a state of Nature auty consists, not of doing the things that you desire not todo but the re- - verse. There is no self-abnegation The duty of a wild thing toward its young, its mate, its fellows and toward other denizens of the wild, rests solely upon incli nations, never upon ethical con siderations that are artificial. Kil- rain acted upon his natural incli- nations.” “In other words, Kilrain, having re verted toa state of Nature, had no conscience in the matter Is that it?” Harrington asked. “Not quite,’’ Villiers negatived, smiling. ‘“‘Con science is an artificial product, and no doubt a hu- the freeze-up caught them. They were well supplied and there was an abundance of game in the hills, so they wintered through in relative comfort. The girl’s baby was born in the spring. While the ice was still running after the break-up Lynnhaven was caught in a jam, wrecked the canoe and was drowned. “The girl was still weak. The shock and grief at losing him and the horror of her own situation weakened her still further. At last she could no longer hunt for meat. She launched messages, one of which Kilrain found. She died two days after he reached her. Kilrain started out with the infant, resorting to desperate expedients to keep it alive. The caribou were calving. He shot caribou cows and extracted the milk from their udders to keep life in the child. He crossed the main Liard and went up a tributary stream flowing in from the north that took him into the country of the Ikluts. They were shy as forest creatures and deserted their tepees and took to the bush when he approached. But he gained an interview with an ancient crone who was too decrepit to flee. He could not speak a word of her language, but he made signs that were very much to the point. The old squaw hobbled away into the bush. Later she returned with an old man and a young woman who had lost her own baby two days before, and she nursed the white babe. She was the daughter of a native named Klatakan and her man had died prior to her own infant’s arrival. Kilrain purchased her from Klatakan ‘At Last She Could No Longer Hunt for Meat. mind, instead of being impregnated with enforced convic- that the great minds of all ages had been able to devise and left free to render its own unbiased verdicts? Would not the tabulating of the decisions made by such a mind be a new contribution to the literature of the world? Kilrain thought that it would. So he decided to keep her here where he could provide her with the products of the best civilized minds, but where she would not be exposed to civilization’s corroding influences. He made the experi- ment and faithfully chronicled the ideas that she evolved as her mind developed. You see?”’ “Yes,’’ said Harrington. ‘So that is what was in those manuscripts—the complete record of a unique mind. And now those thoughts are rotting beneath a hundred feet of débris where the snowslide engulfed the cabin—lost to the world.” “Not necessarily,’’ Villiers dissented. ‘‘ Those thoughts are still retained in the mind that formed them. Another historian could chronicle them as they come from her lips Why not yourself?”’ “But would I be able to commit all of her thoughts to paper as unreservedly as the Old Man of the North was capable of doing?’”’ Harrington inquired doubtfully. “No,” Villiers replied frankly. ‘‘ Not yet, for the reason that you have not yet cleared your own mind of the clutter She Launched Messages, One of Which Kilrain Found" man iniant reared alone on an unin habited island without instruction would have no more conscience than a dicky bird, but once conscience has come into being in a ndividual, it never dies, though the direction of it may be altered by altering convictions as to right and w ong Kil rain, let us say, Was endowed with a conscience as active as any, but it was directed by his own individual intell gence rather than by the mass standards of the lizatio that he had forsworn. Even upon ethical grounds he could have justified his act ‘We must consider first the absolute fact that the des tiny of every human mind is shaped by some outside agency—parents, guardians, state or church. So in mal ing his decision to shape the destiny of a human mind he was merely substituting himself for some other agency As a matter of fact, he was actually launching the exper ment of allowing a human mind to shape its own destiny if you will, for perhaps the first time in history. Sitéing judgment upon the act that had occasioned the flight of daughter from her father’s roof, if the parental objectio: of the match had been based upon matters of family and race, if Lynnhaven had sprung from an inferior strain Kilrain would have supported the objection, since he knew that superior humans are no more bred from inferior strains than race horses are bred from jackasses. But Lynnhaven, if anything, was of better str than the Continued on Page 50

Page 40

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 | F Wherever ' - You go — A Dealer Near You to Serve You No matter what part of the country you live in—no mat- ter what section you visit, there is always a Chevrolet dealer near you to serve you. Available in hamlet and me- tropolis alike—in over definite part of Chevrolegown- ership. Wherever you find the Chevrolet service sign displayed, you will find skilled mechanics trained in Chevrolet methods, genuine Chevrolet parts—and a 16,000 authorized serv- ie Ne, sincere desire to main- ice stations—this nation wide service makes con- tinuous satisfaction a & ‘\ apt? —— tain Chevrolet’s world- wide reputation for eco- nomical transportation. The Coach $595, The Coupe $625, The Sedan $695, The Sport Cabriolet $715, The Landau $745, The Touring $525, The Roadster $525, The Imperial Landau $780. All prices f. 0. b. Flint, Michigan. In addition, Chevrolet's delivered prices include the lowest handling and financing charges available. CHEVROLET MOTOR COMPANY, DETROIT, MICHIGAN, Division of General Motors Corporation A

Page 41

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST BEAVIERTOWN COMES BAICIK oo structions to thin out the new establishments. Every now and then this must be done in those states in Washington, heard of it. that are building up beaver populations, the scattering He came up, camped on the process being done ger tly; new communities grow where none grew before and filling animals, while other special- up the vacant spaces in the John Slautterback, of the game-commission staff, and on the important task of State Trapper Logue worked out an ingenious rig to catch bringing back America’s beavers alive —a sort of gadget that looks like a cross be- valuable fur-bearing animal. tween a fish net and spring trap, transforming itself into Under the careful handling Properly set, it has a of Refuge Keeper Osenbaugh, batting average of 100 per cent in taking beavers without the young beavers grew up, a cage when a trigger is released. hurting their feelings. One morning a fine big female was found in this contri- into the isolated hill country vance over at the beaver pond in Fourteen-Mile Narrows. and freedom. They were She was handled most carefully, was shipped to a game_ smart, alert, energetic, well- refuge near by and placed in a private establishment witha mannered young folks while cute handmade house, with a neat mesh-wire fence and a fine back yard through which ran a trout stream. Beaver Night Schoo! TMHREE days later, with the coming of six babies, there was the making of a fine beaver colony. It was an event—the first time beavers were born in cap- tivity under favorable con- ditions. The tiny ones ar- rived with their eyes open, their teeth cut, and they weighed from thirteen to sixteen ounces. Three more days went by and they were swimming through the un- derwater channel from the house to the pond, out into the trout stream. At the end of twenty-five days they were eating twigs. Every night they got in- structions in tree chopping. A Beaver Dam and House By ROBERT B. VALE HE beavers were becoming entirely too prevalent, A long aspen pole was set in not to say pestilent, in Fourteen-Mile Narrows. the inclosure, and when dark- They were excessively enterprising in cutting down _ ness fell the mother started to some young timber that landowners wanted to remain up- cut off a fifteen-inch section right, so a state trapper was sent into the district with in- while her admiring young- capture some adults sters stood around studying and ship them into other regions where they could set up technic. Vernon Bailey,natu- splitting up home ties, making job,studying the habits of the ralist of the Biological Survey ists made trips to take notes and later they were sent out Two Adult Beavers Repairing a Break in a Dam ¥ A Ciose-Up of a Beaver Dam. Note How the Thin Ends of Sticks Point Up they were guests ol the stats During the day they remained in the house where it was cool, dark and altogether lovely. If the door was opened slightly, letting streaks of sunlight filter in, the Billy and Bessie beavers sprang into action, carrying aspen branches speecily building up a barrier that shut out the objectionable glare. Coming Back \ TITHOUTsound- 'Y ing of trumpets or beating of tom- toms, many of the states of the nation are building up beaver! colonies, to the ent that the women folks may wear fine furs, that A Mother Beaver and Family water tlow can be bet of Six Reared in Captivity ter regulated, that natural trout ponds can be restored, and that an interesting as well as valua ble form of wild life can be preserved The state of Minnesota estimates that it has mor than 19,000 beavers That’s the minimum figure of Thaddeus Surber, of the Department of Conservatior New York has about 25,000 under its protecting care Maine estimates anywhere from 15,000 to 25,000. In Michigan, a conservative survey showed about 10,0600 Pennsylvania, whicl new in the work, has something more than 4000 A quarter of a century ago beavers were few and between in the United States. There were less than ; dozen in the entire Adirondack region of New Yor} It was the me o tory of ruthless destruction by our inthir r forefathe fine old codge who to the t: of | nation with a will, but wh mall thoug » Nature and Nat j eatur Lé them the ‘ ‘ A ource of revenue itnere Ww ttle 1 ior conse! itior The po t prow Continued on Page 154

Page 42

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 (COLOR in the kitchen ~ ree ™~New Secrets of *“Cotor Macic”’ Don’t fail to get a copy of edition of Color Vagic in the Home—the help- ful home-decorating handbook by Anne Pierce, scribed in the coupon below. the newest Lewis de- many interest- illustrations, new sug- It contains ing new gestions and a scientific guide harmony—all of real value to women who are anx- ious to inexpensively beautify their homes. The many prac- tical ideas are expressed in such a friendly, sensible way that housewife can readily utilize them to advantage. to color any Write to Congoleum-Nairn Inc., 1421 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa., for free copy ! “BRITTANY” G ld Seal Rug 306 “mosaic” Gold Seal Rug 408 ‘KASHMIR’ Gold Seal For your protection! , of which this is s pasted on the face ine Gold Seal Rug. ir on the rugs Gold Seal ” misled into aaa ice ONGO REG US PATOFF. GOLD SEAL ( ERTAINLY nothing else does so much to make kitchens cheerful and livable as the generous use of color. And it’s sur- prising how little money is needed to give a kitchen that air of smartness, which makes the one above so attractive. See how simply—and inexpensively—its owner secured her effects. A Congoleum Gold Seal Rug to set the keynote of fresh, cleanly color. A few quarts of paint for woodwork, walls and furniture. Three or four yards of inexpensive gingham or chintz. And behold! A kitchen the Queen of Hearts would have been proud to bake her tarts in, But it’s not alone in the kitchen that Congoleum Gold Seal Rugs bring refresh- ing color. The variety of artistic patterns— rich mellow Orientals, dainty floral patterns, smart modern effects, quaint neat tiles and wood-blocks—offers new charm for every part of the house, upstairs and down. All sizes, from small, handy mats up to 9x 15 foot room sized rugs. And the work that they save! Scrubbing becomes a thing of the past. No more tired arms and aching muscles from sweeping and beating dust-collecting floor-coverings. A quick easy mopping, and the smooth, non-spotting surface gleams with absolute cleanliness. New leisure and comfort are brought into your life. At today’s lower-than-ever prices you can easily afford several Gold Seal Rugs. They’re the greatest value in floor-cover- ing—a bargain far too good to miss. ConGoLeuM-Nairrn Inc. New York Boston Chicago Atlanta Pittsburgh New Orleans San Francisco In Canada Cleveland Minneapolis Rio de Janeiro Congoleum Canada Limited, Montreal Philadelphia Kansas City Dallas A New Home- Decorating Booklet GS bs UM ~ "THIS fascinating handbook, “‘cotor MAGIC IN THE HOME,” t tells h y Anne Lewis Pierce, w to make any room glow and smile with charm and attractiveness ad without heavy spending. Color (a ts proper uses) is the secret. Just drop us a line, or send the coupon for a free copy to Congoleum-Nairn Inc., 1421 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa Name Addresa__

Page 43

CLEANING UP T OFTEN happens but not so often as to become monotonous that a play is an overnight success. In which cases the job of being a play producer can be handled by any high- grade car conductor. But when that fickle, uncertain, indeterminate quantity known as the public fails to appreciate the privilege of coming to see your offering, then the play producer has the chance to prove whether he is merely that, or an audience producer as well. I have had very few of the sure-fire overnight knock- outhits. But I have taken more delight in whipping into success one that even my friends thought hope- less than in any other part of the business of making money out of plays. The first thing to deter- mine is whether it is smarter to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous criticisms and close up shop, or to go on throwing the proverbial good money after the equally proverbial bad. I have produced my failures, and when it has been demonstrated to my complete dissatisfaction that there was no possible way to attract a public for a particular play, I’ve quit. In one case a play which the critics damned with the word “innocuous,” ran at the After we had some 20,000 of these, Harry Kline went gave usa full half Cohan Theater for four weeks and then I had the entire through them all and compiled the answer | was seeking which we had been vainly trying to inject into his depart production taken to the Jersey meadows, where it was Seventy per cent of the people who had signed our slips ment for a month dumped. How I have come to me—instinct, or whatever it is—has whispered of a play: “It’s there. You've got it. make people come to it,” I’ve gone out to try Asking the Audience Another space given over to baseball and racing alone is many _ the audience laughing, Stone takes drink from pitcher hundred times greater than that devoted to news of the Il argued with him to withdraw that line. for I knew that N TRYING to get audiences, the question naturally pre- more or less interesting dramatic world. The press agent while you can write ar tructions you like for you sents itself: What brings people into a theater? be difficult for a producer to stop his audiences on the way out and ask them how they happened to drop in on his of- daily swamped with such material from hundreds of veloped, that joke never went and there was no time for THE SATURDAY EVENING POST FROM GAGS TO RICHES Ex:Governor Davis, of Ohio, Ed Howe (Sage of Potato Hill Farm), John Gotden and Harry Davis, Jr. had put their check next to Answer Number 1-—-It was rather inverse advertising, but the fact is that he did not hate that word innocuous! recommended by afriend. I am convinced, therefore,that roast our play, but only my sign. In fact, he mentioned I find it paradoxical that a word which according to the the thing which sends most people to the theater isastate- that the play was much better than the sign. And so far dictionary means “‘harmless and safe,’ can be used with ment from a friend that he has seen the play and it is as I was concerned, that was publicity for that play such telling effect to damn a play. ‘Harmful and dan- worth attending, or that the friend has a friend who has a gerous’’ would, in these iconoclastic days, be highly profit- friend able criticism. But that word “innocuous,” with its con- deft manipulat No man car his first audience quainted their readers or hearers with the fact that a cer- rest with any Now all you have to do is tain play exists, or have induced them to talk about it the amounts paid by sports advertisements, yet the free for Fred Stone, followed by twould who is not a genius finds it no simple matter to induce the actors, with some possib dramatic editor to print his bit of news. The editor is you cannot write instructior fering. And yet, it seemed to me important to determine theatrical and moving-picture ofiices. It is, therefore, be- Stone to take his drink Just what did influence them. And so I hit upon the coming more and more difficult for the press represent- following test: During the run of Pigs a questionnaire was handed to not concern an outstandingly beautiful girl, or hasn’t the drawn. One audience can give you the answer, but not every member of the audience, reading as follows: exciting qualities of extreme novelty hti- ngle perso it audience ometim girl w . i1ess. The public, it appears, is far | loa whe lay be se the leading mar nd and I decided to see Pigs for the reason marked X., ceaies igenng ‘PI ie abies seach ast, : —s ‘ 7 : ing about the innocuous type of ) lim, and she likes them dark and heavy A chance 1. It was recommended by a friend. == 4 “Bie ‘ . 2. John Golden’s reputatior Work its way into a success mark Overheard in the lobby means iittie or nothing. 10u - « i i 4 Lalit ie 3. I believed it to be clean and funny. When Three Wise Fools was fighting for existence at the must place yourself where you can watch the ef ntha 1. It was staged by Frank Craven. Criterion Theater, 1 conceived the idea, since used in afar mass mind. The balcony, tl pinal cord o f eate 5. Favorable newspaper critic. more lavish and magnificent manner by the moving-picture is where you can get your average: 6. Because of a paid newspaper ad. : ’ P 7. Because of a display card or pos producers, Ol covering the entire Iront of the theater wit Once an audit nas responde t our pla 8. Doctor Cadman’s approbation a sign. The Famous Players people, who have controlled find that the second, the t t! t sndt iu r 9. Because of radio exploitation. that theater since then, have spent from $25,000 to) w I e exact us the ‘ 10. Recommended by a ticket broker $40,000 on enormous electrical displays reaching from roof he Sor Realizing, of course, that the average theatergoer would to cellar. In one instance, to exploit a Mary Pickford pi they g it it not care to be bothered signing anything like that, it oc- ture, they erected an entire new front on the building it the trut curred to me to have Wallace Ford and Nydia Westman The n of this mammoth advertising display was, If your au announce from the stage that they would collect the slips___I like to believe, in an idea that 1 conceived for bringing doing, that ha » from the audience. And after every performance Miss Three Wise Fools to the attention of the Broadway what he doing Westman and Mr. Ford would run directly from the stage throngs. But whereas the picture people use steel, con- e are he into the auditorium, meet the audiences, shake hands and crete and expensive electrical displays, my exhibition con- than ntinuo collect the questionnaires. | ative to catch his editor’s eye, parti ularly if his story does of you, there are certain con : } ¢ 1,.] +} Sa f +} isted of a large piece of olicioth covering the Iront ol the By JOHN GOLDEN In Collaboration With Viola Brothers Shore olumn about the play , 80me mention ol Of course, this may appear to be In the business of getting a play over pends on the opening weeks, Newspaper stories; in fact, all sorts of printer’s ink out may have to be entirely temptuous host of connotations, has come to mean, to and nowadays the radio—are of unquestionable value. me, the clarion call to battle. When that something in But they have fulfilled their function when they have ac- entertainment, or even a dire on will change it fre I remember The theaters spend for advertising a hundred times’ writing The Red Mill, he read me a joke he had written in the actual i isiness ‘W hile 41 > ) were iW et i t t eet v reser ng three f s. ft “ ur ol i ¢ ‘ t w that ( were wise, three fo nat ey were ) 4 ry t mag ‘ t enc Vas nieve { tne thneat« ‘ tr " t ne tric pu a eectri one eye yi Cac | t 1} ace i Vt Kked ? r tt t are k the inte the eff tofa iy IS DEFOE, dramati« 4 editor of the New Yorh xd gazing incred ULOUSIY & { I lay John,” he said, wit! cnarming ca that saw I take it you don’t | the sign?"’ I asked him Il sure do not!” replied Def« ‘You're sure it’s th worst one you ever saw ‘I’m sure,”’ he answered with conviction “Well, then, do me a favor,’’ lsuggested. “ Print that, will you?” ‘You really mean that? he inquired. at do,’ said I. And sure enough, he did. He ; a great deal de when a play on its road try rewritten, Or when a littie lallure, assurance ¢ when Henry Blossom wa of having them carried out

Page 44

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST I have known many a play full of laughs which failed. There are many kinds of laughs, but two that are easily To obtain the first kind requires no skill on t is what show people call a wow But there is a more subtle variety, which comes from a point of ived only by the cleverer ones in the audience. measurable he part of the actor sudden explosion. led “‘the growing laugh,” umor perce stop the actor for a second, these dozen people, by This causes a flash in the minds of others which “What are they laughing at? Oh, And a few more follow. Then the slow ones join the total losses, because they hate to miss a h, even if they don’t know what it’s all about. : actor will spoil a laugh by going right on with his line Or the other fellow may spoil it by going on with s cue. A laugh can be nipped in the bud by a slight ges- ture on the part of another actor, and the mean or jealous player, knowing he can kill his rival’s laugh, will talk promptly on his cue, snapping up his lines with vivacity. i recall one instance when two characters actually came to blows because one made a face while the other was telling a joke. So that while on the stage they were the best pals in the world, offstage one chased the other with a gun and all for no greater offense than “stepping on a laugh.” I finally restored peace by pointing out that the laugh be- longed to both of them, and it was to the best interests of both to feed it. Sometimes an actor loses a laugh and the loss troubles than burglary. Nydia Westman, the lively youngster in Two Girls Wanted, came to me worried one night, and said, ‘‘I have lost one of my best laughs. What Are they tired of the joke, or is it something » translated n, and finally nim more is happening? I am doing?”’ ‘Is it entirely gone?’’ I asked. “No, but it seems to be about half the volume. lost the big wow I used to get.” I’ve As I watched from the back of the theater, the answer was absurdly simple. I noticed that exactly half the audi- torium—that is, the right side—were laughing, while the other half were not. And I observed that Miss Westman had developed a trick of turning toward Frank Monroe as she spoke, so that her face was away from the left side of the house and they simply couldn’t hear her. Hers is not the noisy, blatant form of comedy. She gets er points by underplaying, rather than by overplaying. I could not ask her to increase the volume of her voice, and I never did like the idea of having the actor, except in vaudeville, k straight at the audience as he tells his So we placed her in another position, from which she could still be talking to Mr. Monroe and yet throw her voice toward the auditorium, with the result that she brought back her valued laugh. 100 ioke jOne, Timing Keeps the Stars in Their Places Pte laughs are set, you can count on them so defi- nitely that you can time them with a watch. If at five minutes after nine a laugh is due, at five minutes after nine, if you happen to be behind the scenes, you will hear an ex- plosion. I once took a reporter backstage and showed him with a watch how I could call to the fraction of a second, not only the quality of the noise that would come from out front but its actual volume. And it never varied three sec- onds in the four performances that we watched. Occasionally, listening in the dark back there, behind you will run into dead silence; sometimes lasting so long that the visitor becomes startled and says, “Has anything happened? They’re not talking. I don’t the scenery hear anything.” Those dead silences are filled in by the actor building After what seems an interminable time the listeners backstage are invariably rewarded with the laugh at exactly the moment we predicted, and of exactly the ra iaugn quahty,. Those laughs depend largely on the actor and his mas- tery of that difficult bit of stage technic called timing. I most important idea in the thea- ter. Teachers of acting ought to spend whole courses on [ doubt whether most of them even mention the word. through life this factor of timing plays a vital part. I , in phrase turning or speaking very essence of truth. And in the theater, as well cosmic scheme, it is what keeps the stars in their beheve timing is the music art rank Bacon, Laurette Taylor, Buster Keaton, Norma nadge, Tom Wise, Thomas Meighan, Charlie Chaplin, er Huston, Bennett and Hayes are a few of the masters of this art of timing Laura Hope Crews, Leila names I recall offhand. actor who knows his art will feed a laugh by filling h a bit of stage business, perhaps no more than ye—anything that will give the audience 'T This is important, because audiences feel cheated if a laugh passes them. I have seen a laugh take as long as thirty seconds to go round a house, and it requires real technic to foster that kind of laugh. Those two things—laughs and applause—can be easily figured by the veriest tyro. But there are more important indications to be observed. During the war I learned a great deal from knitting needles. At that time every woman knitted, and you could watch a whole row of needles flying almost in unison—stitch, purl, stitch, purl. Then something would happen. The tempo of the knitting needles would slow up—slow—slower—die down alto- gether and the knitting lie idle in the lap. That meant the scene was holding the knitters. The minute I saw them go back, like a line of soldiers—stitch, purl, stitch, purl I knew something was wrong with that scene and that we must fix it. But when they dropped their knitting, when they forgot there was a war and those boys needed socks and wristlets, you could bet your scene was right. But since I can no longer be a war profiteer, I have had to rely on other straws to show which way the wind was blowing. I watch the eyes, the mouth, the position of the body—whether they relax or sit forward eagerly. August 20,1927 friends. If I used a larger auditorium which accommo dated more people, I should miss that advertisement. | believe that every person who is turned away from the box office either comes back, or he talks about it so much that he sends ten others. There is another secret I really ought not to tell, and so I shall. Don’t you think it sounds great to hear that a production of John Golden’s has run into its fourth con- secutive year in New York City? He does. He thinks it sounds so well that you will find it on every twenty-four- sheet poster from Maine to Florida. And my little secret is that if the theater had been twice as large those four years might have read two. It is difficult to point out the one thing that turned the tide of what might have been a failure into long Broadway runs. If I hadn’t had faith in Three Wise Fools it would have died in its first few weeks. I shall never forget the sick feeling every time I walked into the empty lobby of the Criterion Theater and saw no one at the box ofiice except the ticket seller. One day Winchell Smith and I stood before the theater and watched the thousands of people who hourly pour past the corner of Forty-fourth Street and Broadway. It In a gripping scene the breathing comes hard, the mouth is left open, the eyes stare, the whole attitude is tense and rigid. Coughs and the Coffer NE of the worst symp- toms in the theater is coughing—that infectious cough which breaks out all over the place, like a series of incendiary fires. Sud- denly a whole audience be- comes stricken with laryn- gitis. It almost seems as though it were done inten- tionally. The audience doesn’t know why it coughs. But we who diagnose plays recognize in that cough a sign that the audience is not absorbed in that part ofthe play. Theactor hears it, and knowing what it means begins to lose his grip, which in turn reacts once more on that mass out front. Until a cough, which means only a slight incon- venience to the cougher, may mean absolute death to the coffer. I have often been asked why I made my productions A COMEDY BY AUST! S7°ONE looked to us, disconsolately praying fora few stragglers, as though 4,000,000 people were going by. Now and then a passer- by, casting a curious glance into the lobby and seeing nobody there, drew his own conclusions and passed on. I remembered the old cir- cus axiom that crowds draw crowds. Luring ’Em In O THE next day Broad- way saw the lobby of the Criterion Theater jammed with nicely dressed men and women standing in line try- ing to give their money to the man at the window. Sure enough, people pass- ing were tempted to fall in with the line. Little did they know, as we villains Say, that they stood behind supers made up as tired business men, elegant ladies and discriminating theater- goers, who went from the head of the line back again to the foot. This ruse helped business a little. Then we tried another in such small theaters as the Gaiety, the Booth, the Re- public, the Little, and the recently built John Golden Theater, holding less than 1000 people. That has been one of my secrets. People nat- urally assume that a big hit would have made more money in a larger playhouse. One of my reasons is that I believe the more intimate type of theater gives better results for the actor and for the drama. Another is that I believe it wiser to play to capacity audiences in a small house, and turn ’em away, than to have even a few empty seats in a larger theater. The psychological effect of empty seats upon the audi- ence is deadly. In the first place, it suggests that he is witnessing an unpopular play. Moreover, his capacity for enjoyment is affected materially by crowds. People sel- dom have fun alone. They are happier in mass, nervier, less self-conscious. A man alone in a row of empty seats is not impelled to laugh out loud; and if he is, something restrains him. Bolstered up by billows of sound around him, he relaxes and laughs too. The emotions of a mass of people roll up like a wave, sweeping along the stragglers. Audiences won’t be bothered reasoning out these things. They either like the play or they don’t, and that means thumbs up or thumbs down in the fate of our work. There is a strange something in human nature which makes every patron of a theater a walking sandwich man for or against an entertainment. If he likes it, he is a con- stant advertisement for it. If he dislikes it, it is branded rotten, with conviction and frequency. But if he cannot get in at all, he goes about railing over the fact, and the longer he rails, the more eager he becomes —and so do his John Gotden and Austin Strong, From a Photo: graph Taken During a Tryout Performance of ‘Seventh Heaven"’ scheme. For days a man sat at a telephone, with a society Blue Book direc- tory, holding the following conversation: “Hello! Is this the residence of J. P. Rockefeller?”’ “No, this is John D. Rockefeller.” “Well, there are two seats at the Criterion Theater for Three Wise Fools, but we can’t make out whether they are for Mr. J. D. or J. P. Rockefeller. Will you please have Mr. Rockefeller notify us whether he wants them or not, as the house is sold out and we will need the seats.” We sold only a few tickets that way, but at least we fixed it so that people began to learn that there was a Cri- terion that people were going by, and that something called Three Wise Fools was playing there. After that I tried another scheme. I had found a simple way of measuring the efficacy of circular advertising in the theater. If a circular was thrown on the floor it was naturally not wanted by the person who had received it But if the floor was clean, we knew we had a good adver- tising medium. And so, cudgeling my brains, it occurred to me that a cookbook would be something that men might take home and women might keep. To the chefs in the biggest hotels in the city went a letter: PIERRE GASTRITIS, CHEF DE CUISINE, HOTEL , NEW York. Dear Sir: I am editing a cookbook, and no cookbook would be complete without one of your famous dishes. We want to include your name and one of your favorite recipes. May we hear from you? Every chef wanted to be represented in my famous cook- book. When I had collected about twenty recipes from the (Continued on Page 47)

Page 45

-Spea zi hu Price $5.00. Mis er set THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 4. RADIO IS BETTER WITH BATTERY POWER 3 Here is battery power in its most economical form BATTERY Power has many advantages possessed by no other source of elec- tricity. Batteries give you pure DC, Direct Current, steady, quiet, noiseless, uniform, taking nothing from and adding nothing to radio reception. B-power supply from batteries is reliable, for it is independent of all outside occurrences. No line troubles or blown-out fuses can stop your radio re- ception if you use batteries. After months of perfect service, batteries give you warning in plenty of time when new ones are needed. You need never miss a single concert from a_ battery-run receiver. The air is full of The reason that the Eveready Layer- bilt has to be replaced so seldom lies in its construction. No other battery is like it. Sce the illustration above. It is built in layers of current-producing materials. This system packs more active materials in a given space, and makes those mate rials produce more electricity. In laboratory tests and in actual home use during the last two years the Ever- eady Layerbilt “B” Battery No. 486 has proved itself to be the longest-lasting and therefore most economical Eveready “B”’ Sattery ever built. Because it 1s the longest-lasting it is also the most convenient. things you For greatest economy, satisfaction and reliability in radio, choose the Eveready Layerbilt No. 486. NATIONAL CARBON COMPANY, Inc. New York San Francisc ) ’ a houldn’t miss )

Page 46

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 SF ew ILLING OT ONLY dashing new smartness but dashing per- formance—in the latest, greatest Oldsmobile Six.. Thrilling—smoother—with sweeping acceleration and Howing power. Oldsmobile engineering has kept step with new styling, new luxury and new colors. See these features in the Oldsmobiles now on special showing by Oldsmobile dealers everywhere. ‘Then taste of the results—drive the car yourself. Its new smartness is surprising. Its new luxury is de- lightful. Detail by detail the latest Oldsmobile will excite your praise. And the features that make for this thrilling finer per- formance, greater economy and longer life add the final touch to an array of qualities almost incredible in a fine closed car at this new lower price—$875.

Page 47

SATURDAY EVENING POST : be se ori al A Rgk Peo aa Yee ‘t Siset/ yes \ ie we Sebe aid AG 2 Mea hs, S i KeFagh yes i Age Rgrs KG ne ee Par per — ee PERFORMANCE AT NEW LOWER PRICES TWO-DOOR SEDAN BODY BY FISHER F. O. B. Lansing «+ Spore Tire Extra OLDSMOBILE SIX —— —_ PRODUCT GENERAL MOTORS SSB ay" fas of WSs, oko Ad Ae J pnae’ py.) vty’ x Leta for Fo ee * eg } : he oo fe Oe ot \" i \Plea~ + gc Tw, goo ¢ ee tes » Ay of o why £ Ww ¢ ‘~

Page 48

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 Lifetime Beauty for Upholstered Furniture 4a—> UXURIOUSLY soft and velvety, glorious in color L and in patterning, Chase VELMo gives to the furniture in thousands of modern homes a beauty never dreamed of by princesses of the Far East who numbered among their treasures draperies and rugs woven of Mohair—the snowy fleece of Angora goats. And that same marvelous resistance to the hard- est wear—which made mohair fabrics seem so wonderful to the ancients—makes the beauty of Vetmo Mohair enduring. Also, though VeLmo does not soil easily, it may, when necessary, be vacuum cleaned, beaten with a rattan or scrubbed with pure soap and water. Owing to its known superiority, VELMo is used by the makers of fine furniture—is recom- mended by upholsterers and interior decorators. But because there are many mohair velvets of inferior quality, when buying be sure to insist upon the genuine. Gass Vie Upholstery Velvets of Mohair p.. ofl Mohair Blends for Furniture and Enclosed Motor-Cars Monatr fabrics—a heritage from the Orient—are wot from the lustrou Ki ece of ts. Vhis case able Aneora hair when proper ly provia ~ ft beauty. “VELMO UPHOLSTERY ESTMENT IN ENDURING LUXURY”

Page 49

Continued from Page 42 best chefs in the best hotels in the city of New York, I sent for some soap people and inquired whether they wouldn't like to get out such an ingenious little cookbook or carry some joint advertising of their soap and my play, if I guaranteed to handle the distribution. They saw the value of this ad—a value proved by the fact that not one of those cookbooks was ever left upon the floor of the theater. Many a man probably squared himself for coming home late by bringing his wife this unique little gift, and on many a kitchen table Pascale Grande, with his Pommes Grimalde, and Pierre Lafaye, with his Codfish Biscayenne, and Louis Diak were silently helping to bring to success a play which I was determined should be a hit. But when five weeks had gone and the actors were still playing half-heartedly to row upon row of empty seats, | said to my business manager, “I must get people in here.” “Sell your seats to the cut-rate man,” said he for about the thousandth time. There is in New York a man who sells tickets at half their box-office rate. Of course, if a play producer has a real sure- fire hit for which he can get three dollars a ticket, he won't take less. But where he can’t, this cut-rate man has helped many a production. He has done better than that. He has saved the lives of some—one of mine among them. Ihad always resented a two-price scheme. 3ut finally I admitted it was the only thing left. As the box office is entirely in the hands of the theater owner, and not the play producer, I went to the gentleman who controlled the theater and told him of my intention. I hate to tell this, because it shows me up in a rather bad light against a man who never for a moment deviated from his fixed principles. This man had taken the insti- tution known as the theater when booking was a hit-or-miss proposition, and through his genius and vision so organized all the playhouses throughout the country that producers are now able to route their pro- ductions efficiently from one point. **You will do nothing of the sort,” said Abraham Lincoln Erlanger. ‘‘ Your attrac- tion is at the theater temporarily, but I have to keep the house up to my estab- lished standards.” Erlanger was a great believer in a one- price deal with his patrons. On the other hand, I had to have audiences. When I found my best arguments un- availing, I said, ‘“‘But do you mind how many I give away? I can’t stand those empty seats any longer.”’ “‘No, Johnnie,”’ said he, kindly. ‘‘Give away as many as you like. But I don’t think giving them away will do any good.”’ Swapping Gifts “*Will you call up your house manager,” said I, ‘‘and ask him to give me all the balcony and gallery seats I may. want?” An hour later, with a pasteboard box containing all balcony and gallery tickets for two weeks, | staggered into the office of the cut-rate man. “‘T understand you will buy anything at a price,” said I. ‘‘How much would you say these were worth?” I made a memorandum of the figure it took that expert five minutes to set on some thousands of dollars’ worth of paste- board, and put it in my pocket. “Now,” I said, ““I want to give these tickets away, but I want to give them where they will do the most good. So I am going to give them to you, because you will get them into the hands of people who will come because they have paid something. How- ever,”’ I continued, ‘if you feel that you cannot be under such a tremendous obli- gation to me, and that you must send me a check, my address is the Hudson Theater Building.” That night the balcony and gallery were packed, and the laughs that reverberated through the house put heart into the actors and sent home a lot of people to say they had had a good time. And from then on the demand for the seats downstairs began to grow, until at the end of the two weeks | could give the cut-rate man no more tickets, for the baleony and gallery were sold out at honest prices. Of course Erlanger was very much dis pleased, even though I explained to him how I had given the tickets away, and that if the cut-rate man chose to send me money it would be foolish of me to refuse or for him to decline to accept his share. I admit that before the highest ethical tribunal my conduct might not be rated 100 per cent, but Austin Strong, the author, whose near failure was turned into an inti- mate acquaintance with royalties, and the actors, who were kept working for five years instead of five weeks, will probably offer some mitigating testimony for me. Seventh Heaven Lane \ publicity stunt which came from my office without my knowledge, was born in the fertile brain of that brilliant word thrower, Joseph Drum. In my opinion, Joe, when he was at his best, was the greatest of them all. He came from a family of great ones. His younger brother is today a celebrated national figure—our own Gen. Hugh A. Drum of the United States Army. This particular trick of Joe’s almost made my friends the Shuberts my bitter enemies. These gentlemen and the Astor Estate had laid out at considerable expense a small lane running from Forty-fourth to Forty- fifth street, on one side of which are the Shubert and Booth Theaters, and on the other side the hotel property. My ener- getic press representative, knowing of my friendly relations with the chairman and other members of the Board of Estimate and Apportionment, wrote a letter to Mr. Murray Hulbert, suggesting that since Seventh Heaven had been such a record breaker at the Booth Theater there was a demand on the part of the public to call that alley Seventh Heaven Lane. I knew nothing of this scheme for a little newspaper space until I received a cour- teous letter from Mr. Hulbert to the effect that the matter of Seventh Heaven Lane was under consideration by the board. I called Drum to account for his nonsensi- cal trick, of which I thought nothing more would come, since the property belonged to the Shuberts and the Astor Estate. However, the next thing I saw was an announcement in the theater news, which Drum had arranged with the newspaper boys, that the street was to be named Seventh Heaven Lane. Naturally, the gentlemen who had paid a heavy price for middle New York real estate had something to say about this, and they said it with lawyers. Their attorney got busy with the city authorities, with the net result that I had to raise my press agent’s salary for getting a lot of trouble into the papers about Seventh Heaven. The dream of the press agent is the news break—getting something about the show, or the star, or the troupe, into that part of the newspaper where the average man will read it. One of the best news breaks we ever had came at a time when we were badly in need of something to stimulate interest in Sev- enth Heaven. One of the props in Seventh Heaven was Eloise, a taxicab. At the time of the German drive on Paris, it was the Parisian taxicabs which were said to have saved the city. And Austin Strong had written into his play the story of one of these heroic vehicles. Eloise was an old weather-beaten, rain-soaked, dilapidatea remnant of a taxicab which lost its life gallantly— being blown to her eternal peace, not to mention pieces, in the attack on Paris. Not entirely indifferent to its press value, I secured, through Solita Solano, a former press agent, in Paris at the time, one of the engines which actually took part in this THE SATURDAY EVENING POST is preserving another as a relic. Our tax cal) was a prop tnat is, it only pretende to go, and was actually worked by elk tricity. But I could not resist the fur having the original battle-scarred engin« put inside the prop hood Bill Eagan heard about it. Bill is the big, handsome human being who persona escorts all the presidents, kings, princes diplomats and other great folk who pass through the Pennsylvania Terminal. And it happened that, escorting Premier Cle menceau through the station, he thought or perhaps somebody inspired him to think—-that the Premier might be inter ested in this relic of the siege of Paris, and he mentioned it to one of his aides. The aide told the Old Man, and one of the best news stories we ever got was when M Clemenceau came to the Booth Theater and saluted our prop taxicab, Eloise Direct advertising in the heart of the White Light District costs a lot of money, but we had an ad there during the run of Pigs which didn’t cost us much; and it was a live ad too We had a dozen littl porkers brought to the theater for eact performance and returned to the stables afterward. They could have been delivered in a closed, covered wagon. But not ac- cording to Harry Kline, my press agent Consequently, every day a dozen squeal- ing pigs were driven to the theater in a straw-covered open wagon, the driver of which had orders to spend an hour driving through the most congested part of Broad- way, where my livestock company could perform the praiseworthy act of squeal ing attention to a notice on the wagon, which said: THESE PiGs PERFORM NIGHTLY AT THI LITTLE THEATER Forty-odd years ago Milton Nobles was almost as great a name in the theater as Edwin Booth. You may recognize the line ‘** And the villain still pursued her’’ without knowing that it was written by Milton Nobles in a piece in which he starred, called The Phoenix. I had sat in the gallery regard- ing this great and famous star with wor- shiping eyes. I cannot describe the feeling that came over me when I was told one day that Milton Nobles was in the outside office asking for an interview. Becoming a Star in Three Lessons He hadn't long to wait. And though forty years had turned him from a young hero to a gray-haired old man and me from a boy in the gallery to a producer with a play in which I might give him a part, I had nothing to offer him equal to- the thrill it gave me to meet the idol of my boyhood. We were looking for somebody to play Frank Bacon’s role in a special com- pany of Lightnin’ to tour the South. Win- chell Smith was at the office that day and I asked him to go over the Bacon rdéle with Nobles. Shortly afterward Winchell came tumbling down from the rehearsal room to tell me, ‘“‘He’s wonderful! What a piece of luck to have him walk in!”’ For Nobles had not been on the legitimate stage in four teen years. But in spite of the fact that Milton Nobles was so fine an actor and made a splendid Lightnin’, I was afraid that be cause of Bacon’s fame, people out of town might regard him as a Number Two article So I thought of a plan to overcome this disadvantage. Realizing the effect of the New York critics’ approval stamp on the critic of the smaller town, I made of Milton Nobles a New York success, or what looked like one. My plan was simple. On a cou- ple of Wednesday matinée performances of Lightnin’, without any previous notice to the newspapers, just before the rise of the curtain at the Gaiety Theater the stag: manager stepped forward and announced that Mr. Bacon would not appear, and those who wished might have their money returned. After Nobles had given two or three beautiful performances and Smith and I were sure he was fine in the part, |

York, about as follow a t 1 f , got (7a i ‘ 4 ‘ ¥ : zx ine f ‘ } A ‘ £ put e of ‘ America — Mil ‘ H 4) . r r 4 4 . ar ‘Mt , dies | I " Wi ' : ‘ ' ‘ 4 r ar M l s, bu ) r Ha b gz e be ‘ Most of them were } nd enough to grant my request. Their criticisms I had printed on a leatiet headed Opiniens of New York Critics on Milton Nobles’ Performance of Lightnin’ During Its Long Run at the Gaiety Theater, New Yor his leaflet I gave to my advance agents not for publ circulation but for use exclusively in the newspaper offices in cities on Nobles’ tour I know that it had a str ny psycholog cal effect upon the smali-town critics, for it wa irequently quoted Tarkington to the Rescue Sometimes an apparent failure can be turned into a success by hard work. Some times it ls a break of luck which turns the tide Sometimes somebody else steps in and supplies the idea, the twist or solution you have been seeking

} in. That hap- pened to me once, and all the credit for changing what bade fair to be a bad flop nto a good money-making play goes to a man who accepted no remuneration or even public acknowledgment—a man whose name is one of the foremost in American letters toda) . My streak of luck had kept up so cor tinuously that I couldn't accept failure and after a play called Thunder had prove that New York didn’t want it, I determined to lose more money or make a hit of it With Chicago as my objective, | started to tour the country, making from dé such changes in the play as occurred to me Pearl Franklin, the authoress, and I were hard at work writing and rewriting scene after scene, and every morning and every to day

afternoon when there was no matinée the cast would rehearse the new bits which we would try out that night, perhaps changing them again the next day or taking them out altogether. In particular, the ends of. the second and third acts—the biggest moments in the piece—needed fixing. Which re minds me of a story about an ther show which needed an end. George Cohan once asked Willie Collier to witness a perform ance of a play he was trying out and which he was sure would be all! right if they could only find the right ending for it After Willie had seen the show, George

took him aside. “‘Don’t you think I’m right, Willie? All that play needs is an end.” “We said W how bout Satul <to Thunder, with its con lerences in hotel rooms backstage, on trains going from town to town, in the at tempt to get things right for our opening in Chicago—for success in that ity means

much in credit and dolla produce! apolis, where, in the midst of our fever ol! to every play In due course we reached Indian rewriting, redirecting and renearsing, a lady called several times to see me per sonally She carried under her arm large envelope and was so determined to tell her story to nobody but me that my representative, George Kir gsbury Knew she must be one of the vast army of un known playwrights with a masterpiece which must be brought to the immediat« and personal attention o} the manager, and so Kingsbury, by all the black arts known to the trade, kept her from crossing my path But after two days, as there seemed no aaa . ; likelihood of d yuraging her, he told me

Page 50

I The lady who was rmitted to enter my sacred pres- e proved to be no less a person than Mrs. Booth Tarkington. ‘“We saw your play,” said Mrs. Tarking- on, “‘and my husband made some sugges- yns which he thought you might use, and [ promised him that I would turn them over to you personally.” Pearl Franklin has to this day among her dearest treasures a fat batch of manuscript n Booth Tarkington’s own longhand, to- gether with the letter which accompanied it, and which said: ‘“‘If you think you can use it, here’s my idea of what might pos- sibly be done with the end of your second and third acts.”” Tarkington, who would not even consider a printed acknowledg- ment, had rewritten with an entirely new angle, the most important and troublesome our play. We tried out the new scenes just as our kind friend: had turned them over to us, with the result that when we opened in Chicago we had a hit under the name of Howdy, Folks. The thing which finally nailed the word “clean” to John Golden was a piece of exploitation with Thank-U. where I used a particu- spots in connected After Thank-U, larly bold piece of showmanship in winning over my audiences to fight for clean pro- ductions, I found myself lined up on the public records with the forces of good— caught in a jam of my own making—a jam which, in the case of Thank-U, was my preserving. In the beginning of Thank-U, all the old tricks and a lot of new ones were tried to get people into the theater. Luckily for me, Lawrence Weber, that debonair exponent of what the well-dressed producer will wear, was willing to let the play continue its run, although his theater was making no money. I felt that, once under way, that play would catch on like a conflagration. Night after night I lay awake trying ta think of some method whereby the public might be induced to come into that theater. Then one night I began to analyze the situation. ‘Let's think this ovt,’”’ said I. “‘ There is just one thing that sends an audience to a theater, and that is a statement from some 1 other person that the play is worth seeing. But how can I make somebody tell them to go?”’ I asked myself. ‘I can’t say, ‘Won’t you please tell somebody to go and see Thank-U,’ can 1?” And then I remembered how Maude Adams, in Peter Pan, used to appeal to her “Do you believe in fairies?” and they could clap their hands. ‘Why can’t | ask them from the stage to say something good about our play?” audiences. Won’t You Step into My Parlor? “You mean,” I argued with myself, ‘‘to up on the stage and say, ‘Won’t you lks please tell your friends to come and this play?’ Obviously that won’t do. You can't get people into the theater under vretext of being amused, and then ask them to help you make money. could » get the old minister to ask them to come cause this play is based on a worthy a?” *No,”’ I answered myself. See Let’s see “ J You might the idea, but for the most part people I enthusiastic over any- not personally touch How can I find something which cerns them, them, which | draw them into our fight?” And then it occurred to me that while I might not be able to rouse them in behalf particular offering, my experience taught me there were many people f rongly disposed in favor of clean appeal to the feeling and behalf of our play? In the ht I figured out the details The next day I outlined to played the minis- or a curtain speech, | make a curtain “if they don’t which fires WVavenport, who , ft guing to Davenport, THE SATURDAY “T’ll attend to that,” said I. ‘‘ You just try to make the speech and you will get enough applause to justify it.” “From the ushers?’’ he demanded. Harry belongs to that fine theatrical family of Davenports, related to the Drews and the Barrymores, and is a brother of the great Fanny Davenport. I was sur- prised that a man of his theatrical experi- ence did not know the old trick. But like the good soldier he is, he carried out my orders literally. At the end of the second act, which received a fair amount of ap- plause, Mr. Davenport walked down to the footlights and attempted to make his speech. Tricked Into Applause “Ladies and gentlemen ——”’ he began, but never got any further, because the man on the curtain had instructions to ring down. I have yet to encounter an audience without curiosity enough to start the ap- plause again to see what that man was going to say. Many a time I have heard people going out of the theater remark about the wonderful ovation Mr. Davenport had re- ceived, without in the least realizing that they had been cajoled into making it them- selves. What Mr. Davenport said was: “*Tf you will look around, you will see that one-half of this theater is empty. Now there are two types of plays—decent and indecent. The papers talk about the other type and people rush to see them. The very fact that you are here tonight is proof that you like this kind. But this kind has a hard uphill fight. Once the public realizes there is no preaching and plenty of fun, it will live longer. But until then it needs your help. The best form of advertising is a good word from the mouth of a good friend. You people sitting there can keep this type of play—decent, humorous American drama— alive. But you must help. Will you help?” There were cheers from the audience. And they did help. Within a few days our busi- ness started to climb and kept up for a year’s successful run in New York, a season in Chicago, and three years on the road. It was my young nephew, who, when not at school, conducted a flourishing radio business in the cellar of his Bayside home, who called my attention to that most bril- liant, entertaining and erudite scholar and lecturer, Dr. S. Parkes Cadman. Curious to know whether my townspeople shared my enthusiasm, I asked my nephew, the radio expert, to make a canvass of the home territory, and I found that a large propor- tion of our population were going to church by radio, and going to Doctor Cadman’s church. His brilliant oratory and diction natu- rally excited my sense of the theater. But it was the rapidity, the sureness and the brilliance with which he replied to the hun- dreds of questions shot at him on all man- ner of subjects from algebra to zodlogy which made me a faithful listener every time this marvelous man discoursed, not like the casual preacher, but with a rare mag- netism and a swift, sure comprehension of subjects embracing the lore of the world. Nothing ever stopped him. I recall that once somebody shot at him: ‘Do you think a woman should be President of the United States?”’ “Yes,’”’ replied Doctor Cadman with his characteristic promptness, ‘and I think Mrs. Cadman would make a good one.” In a spirit of appreciation I wrote to tell him of the many happy, uplifting and in- formative hours he had given me and sug- gested that I should value the opportunity to give him a little reciprocal entertain- ment, guaranteeing that nothing in my play at the Little Theater would offend him. I suppose the showman’s sixth sense never sleeps, for the Sunday after Doctor Cadman and his daughter had seen my play, I listened in on my radio with more than my usual breathless anticipation. I trust I shall not be blamed too much for hoping he might say some word in favor of my play to his enormous and devoted radio audiences. And when the questions EVENING POST were read, among them there had found its way the following: “‘Are there any good plays in New York where one might take his daughter?”’ And I was thrilled to hear in those clear, vibrant tones an answer which brought, on the Monday following, 100 people into the box office of the Little Theater. The great Lightnin’ parade and the dem- onstration which marked the closing of the record-breaking run of Lightnin’ at the Gaiety Theater will probably not be for- gotten by those who happened to be in the White Light District that night. Ten thousand people marched behind Frank Bacon and the Lightnin’ company from the theater at Forty-sixth Street and Broadway to Thirty-fourth Street and west to the Pennsylvania Station, and 100,000 more lined the streets to watch and cheer and reach out to shake hands with dear old Frank. Before the farewell parade there was a reception at the Gaiety Theater, which was packed with Bacon’s friends and coworkers. On the stage sat Mr. and Mrs. Bacon and a score or two of stars. Augustus Thomas presided. Mayor Hylan arrived later. De Wolf Hopper stirred up a storm of cheers when he said that the success of the Actors’ Equity Association had been due mainly to two individuals—Ethel Barry- more and Frank Bacon. When he started to respond, Bacon was almost overcome. Then he voiced his regret at leaving New York and his hope that some day he and Lightnin’ would be back. After Mr. Thomas had concluded his speech with a poem—Lightnin’, by Bliss Carman—and letters had been read from the mayor of the city, Will Hays, the Postmaster-General, and otherfamous men, there was the unique spectacle of a cabinet officer on the stage bearing a message from the President of the United States. After Secretary of Labor Davis had read Presi- dent Harding’s letter, he presented to Bacon, Winchell Smith and myself belts conferred by Bernard M. Baruch, for the champion long-distance actor, the cham- pion writer of American successes, and the champion producer of clean, wholesome, American plays. Lightnin’s Great Send-Off As Davis left the stage, scores of actors from every New York theater, some of them still in their make-up, numbering among their ranks the most famous names on Broadway, rushed on to bid Bacon and his company good-by. The crowds outside turned a reception and actors’ parade into a great public demonstration that rocked the Rialto. The sidewalks from Broadway to Eighth Avenue were impassable, and when the police band arrived, Long Acre Square presented the appearance of a riot. Mounted police rode up and down trying to control one mob trying to get into the Gaiety Theater to say good-by to Bacon, and another one which wanted to see the theatrical and other celebrities going in. Augustus Thomas said it reminded him of the departure of Jenny Lind, and pointed out to Bacon that although he had slipped into Broadway in gumshoes three years before, he was going out with a brass band—three or four, in fact. In the con- course of the Pennsylvania Station, where Bill Eagan, that well-known Pennsylvania Railroad host, had placarded the gates and cars with signs, the police band struck up Auld Lang Syne. And the crowd, which threatened to overwhelm Bacon with god- speeds, took up the refrain, so that when the company boarded the train the terminal echoed with Auld Lang Syne. Certainly this was the most magnificent ovation ever tendered to any actor in the history of the theater. I know that this tre- mendous and touching tribute was a true demonstration of the genuine affection and esteem in which the public held dear old Frank Bacon and Lightnin’. I am certain that if what I am about to tell had never happened, this tribute might nevertheless have taken place as a spontaneous gesture August 20,1927 from the world of the theater. But regard- less of how people think that ovation was brought about, or how it might have been brought about, the truth is it actually did originate in the fertile brain of Silvio Hein, the composer, associated with me at the time. Lightnin’ was about to close at the Gaiety Theater and open in Chicago. Though it needed no particular exploitation after its spectacular run, still it occurred to Silvio Hein that the occasion of its exodus was too dramatic to pass without a little special beating of drums, and perhaps some stunt which would put us in the news all over the country. “What about a big parade when Light- nin’ leaves for Chicago?”’ he suggested. “Great,” said I. “‘ How can we do it?”’ The Corner Stone of the Parade And together with Joe Drum, we evolved an idea which necessitated a small false- hood. So that one—but only one—of the stones on which that sensational ovation towered was a lie. But never have I per- petrated a lie which caused me less regret. All I did was to say to a certain member of the Equity Association, ‘‘ The Lambs want to form a parade after the last performance of Lightnin’ to escort the company to the Pennsylvania Terminal, and I wondered whether the Equity wouldn’t like to par- ticipate.” A few days later this member reported that the Equity, not wishing to be outdone, hoped they might be included in the ova- tion. It was easy enough then to have a word dropped at the Lambs’ Club about the proposed tribute of the Equity. And the Lambs, unwilling to be outdone, entered into the spirit of the thing toa man. When the Green Room Club heard that the Lambs and the Equity were going to pa- rade with Bacon, they became interested. After which it was no task to enlist other organizations. When the matter had grown to signifi- cant proportions I took it up with my friend Grover Whalen, then closely allied with the Hylan forces. Through his influence, Mayor Hylan agreed to march at the head of this imposing parade. The mayor went further, and gave us the full complement of the New York Police Band. In time we had several bands, one headed by Victor Herbert, that prince of American com- posers. I provided standards and badges and everything that goes to make bigger and better parades. I arranged with the authorities to have a line of police, perhaps 100 feet apart, sta- tioned along the route. Crowds of curious people began to wonder what the police- men were doing there. Everybody knows what happens when a knot of people collect on a New York sidewalk. Multiply that knot by the number of knot form a mile and you will have some idea of the condition in the heart of New York’s most crowded thoroughfare. When they found out why they were there, they re- mained, thousands upon thousands of them, to render their tribute to their fa- vorite. Moving-picture cameras at every few blocks promised that movie audiences throughout the country would see our pa- rade. Reporters sent out enough news ma- terial to get into the papers in every city. I cannot feel even a pang of guilt for that one dishonest stone in the building of this gigantic affair, when I recall the joy it gave to one sweet old man. As we marched through the streets at the head of thou- sands of his loving, loyal friends, he re- marked to me that this was the happiest moment of his life. As I look back and realize that this good-by to New York was his real and last good-by to the city he loved and which loved him, I am glad I made it possible for so many people to reach out a hand and say good-by to Frank Bacon on his last walk down Broadway. takes to Editor’s Note—This is the sixth of a series of articles by John Golden, written in collaboration with Viola Brothers Shore. The next will appear in an early issue.

Page 51

ENGINEERING proven again and again—on the land, in the air, and on the water. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Supreme Combination ] of all that is fine in Motor Cars supremacy has been The great speed boat records are held by fleet craft powered with Packard engines. The Army and the Navy have come to Packard for those precision motors so vital to our national defense in dirigibles, bombers and fast fighting planes. And on the high- ways of the world no standard car surpasses the Packard—in either smart design or top speed. Packard’s leadership in power plant engineering has Packard engineering been achieved throughtwenty-seven years of pioneer work Packard cars a range of performance, a flexibility, an acceleration never before attained. Packard owners have the satisfaction of knowing that their cars are not only beautiful, distinguished, comfortable and safe—but also are unsurpassed in that prime essential, power. ASK THE MAN WHO OWNS ONE PACKARD

Page 52

objecting parties. The objection had been based purely upon financial consideration. So Kilrain, from his judgment seatin the North, handed down a verdict that the family had forfeited its right to this infant and that his own right to it should be sub- stituted.” ‘*Well, however he arrived at the conclu- sion,”’ Harrington said, ‘‘I repeat that the outcome of the experiment justified the means. And just how did you know all this?” ‘“‘Kilrain had to confide in someone to make sure that his plans would be carried out. I rambled the North alone and both of us entertained similar ideas in many I was his one friend. He confided in Ruvierre, because the priest, then sta- tioned at a post in Alberta, had married Lynne’s parents and had a record of it. The mother wrote her own story on the flyleaf and on the margins of the pages of a book that Kilrain had among his effects when he found her. She signed every page. Then there were her own personal trinkets. These, along with a statement from Kilrain, are all in the hands of Ruvierre—or were, until I took them outside last fall. The ex- piration date upon that provisional legacy left in trust for Lynne’s mother or her heirs comes soon now. Kilrain had told Ruvierre that he would bring Lynne to him last year, but he failed to appear. Books, supplies, and so on, were brought in annually to Ru- vierre when the traders came downriver. In midwinter Kilrain would travel to the Mackenzie to get them. Sometimes, how- ever, he missed a year, traveling to some isolated trading post far across the divide to the Yukon slope. You've heard of the mysterious bearded stranger who drove a team of Mackenzie huskies and outdis- tanced all pursuers, who suspected him of having made a big gold strike in the interior and attempted to follow him. That was the Old Man of the North.” ‘I had divined the connection,” Harring- ton informed. “So Ruvierre was not given to worrying if Kilrain missed one winter. But the ex- piration date was drawing near and the Old One had not been to the Mackenzie in over two years. The priest was headed outside to place the proofs of identity before repre- sentatives of Lynne’s family. I saved him the trip and took them outside myself when the traders went upriver to Track’s End last fall. 1 did not know, until I returned to Simpson post just before break-up time, that you had not returned last year. Upon hearing it I kept on traveling to learn the cause of the delay; which brings us back to Laverne-—or McNair.” ““T know of Laverne,’ Harrington said. **On the Yukon side he is reported to make long trips over into this Liard country, but farther to the west and south. What leads you to believe that Laverne, more than any other, would have knowledge of the gold here?”’ ‘*“Lynnhaven found gold on the creek on which they wintered. It was merely a pocket, rich but of no considerable extent. I worked it out myself many years ago, after the Old Man of the North told me of it. But Lynnhaven believed it to be fabu- lously rich—a Golconda. Lynne’s mother did not launch one message but scores of them, in any way she could devise. In each one she related the news of the strike and offered to share it with the one who would ome to her rescue. Some eight or nine years ago a native of the Mackenzie—one Anatak—found a bottle containing five slabs of birch bark on which there was The white man to whom he showed it, evidence that he considered it of probable value to himself. Anatak knew that the drift pile in which he had found the message had been left there by the high water of ten years or so before, very old ““When he related the incident to me I thought it likely that the message was one | ines writing + j | t proceeded to Keep so it was THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE MOCCASIN TELEGRAPH (Continued from Page 37 of the many launched by Lynne’s mother; its possible value resting on the mention of the gold strike. No doubt the man who had stolen it from Anatak believed that the discoverers had perished and that it was open to the one who would locate it. As I had already worked out that pocket of gold years before, I knew that the man would have his trouble for nothing, even if he should find the spot, which was unlikely, so thought little of it. For years Laverne has been coming over the divide and prospect- ing the various tributaries of the Liard. Klatakan told me that Laverne sat for hours studying five little slabs of birch bark. “Then it occurred to me that Laverne was the man who had purloined five similar slabs of bark from Anatak eight or nine years before. Also I gathered that the long hunt had become an obsession and had probably affected his mind. Klatakan told him of the Old Man of the North and of the infant girl he had brought to the Iklut camp twenty years back, and that they now lived at the phantom falls. Laverne had had no way of determining on what tributary of the Liard the message had been launched, so he had been prospecting in the dark, so to speak. You may judge what effect Klatakan’s story would have upon him. He decided that he knew where the gold was at last, but it was not deserted as he had be- lieved, so he planned to get it anyway. He headed back westward across the divide as usual. But that same winter a man came in from the West by dog team, made a canoe and put off down the Liard after the break-up. I saw him at long range, but he didn’t answer my hail. Subsequent inquiry proved that he had not been seen passing any Nahané camp below where this stream empties into the Liard. So I conclude that your McNair was Laverne. In any event, it doesn’t matter greatly who he was, so long as he failed. If Laverne does not re- appear, then we may assume that he was, the one. But whoever he was his purpose was the same.” “And we will never know whether the Old Man of the North passed out from fatigue and exposure on the trail or whether Laverne bushwhacked him before coming here to finish the job,’’ Harrington said re- flectively. “No. The North seldom gives up her secrets,”’ Villiers agreed. This new knowedge of Lynne’s affairs, linking her with a family and with civiliza- tion, caused Harrington’s civilized mind to reassert itself once more. A legacy of star- tling dimensions awaited her, once her iden- tity was established. Again that troublesome voice whispered to him of duty; that it was his duty to in- sist that she go outside and take possession of what rightfully belonged to her; that he had no right to keep her here so that she would sacrifice it. “The devil!’’ he exploded to Villiers. “‘T’ll never be able to strike off the shackles of standardized civilized thought. Here is enough gold to keep a dozen families in luxury for a lifetime—and their heirs after them. I am a comparatively rich man my- self. It is my one wish to live on here with Lynne. It is her wish to live on here with me. In that case such wealth as we already have will be ten times what we need. What could it possibly benefit either of us, then, to possess still more wealth? Nothing! But I’m too much a product of civiliza- tion— too steeped in its standards to escape the religion of wealth. My reason and in- clination cry out to stay here and to keep Lynne here with me. Then up crops that infernal duty complex again. It insists that I cannot assume the responsibility of allow- ing Lynne to sacrifice her inheritance. How can you account for a mind like mine? I know how the Old Man of the North would have acted in the face of such a situation as this. He'd have snapped his fingers, fol- lowed his inclination and told the whole wide world to go to hell if it didn’t approve. But I can’t do that. My conscience still re- acts to standards that my reasoning intelli- gence refuses longer to recognize. She has made her decision to remain on here from lack of experience. She must go outside and decide from experience. Otherwise I would always reproach myself with having deprived her of much that she might other- wise have enjoyed.” “Yes, you would never know,” Villiers agreed. ‘Also, there is one thing, I believe, of which she herself would never be quite sure until it is demonstrated before her own eyes. Yes. By all means, we must take her outside.” xvi T FIRST it had been very exciting. There were so many new things to see. Also there were so many new things to learn; thousands of little details, seemingly trivial, yet apparently very essential. Not so much in matters of apparel. Once she had had lovely things—things that Pan had brought in for her through Ruvierre, the priest. And every night she had discarded her buckskins and dressed up in her im- ported finery for dinner with him while Tanlika had served them. Pan had in- sisted upon that. So it had not been diffi- cult to accustom herself to the loose flowing skirts that flapped round her ankles and impeded free movement. The Old Man of the North had trained her to all that. But there were so many other things, for exam- ple, about when and where one should or should not sleep. At home Lynne had never quite acquired full regularity in the custom of dividing her days into the long alternating periods of wakefulness and of slumber into which modern man appor- tions his time. Instead, she possessed the faculty of sleeping for brief periods whenever and wherever drowsiness assailed her, condi- tions being propitious; with the conse- quence that she had cat-napped all over the landscape throughout the twenty-four hours when she wished. Perhaps that tendency had been fostered by the seasonal peculiarities of her northern habitat, where the time of day means little, the time of year everything. With the long winters of perpetual twilight and the brief summers when the North seemed bathed in everlast- ing light, there were but two short periods annually when days and nights recurred with sufficient regularity to render it feas- ible for one to apportion his time into alter- nating periods best adapted for activity and for somnolence as accommodated to the swing of the sun. Rushing eastward across the continent by train, Lynne had gloried in the speed of their progress, was fascinated by the flash- ing panorama of countryside that unrolled before her eyes. Then, suddenly, she had become very drowsy, and so she had curled up in her seat and slept. Others about her also were napping in their seats. Then the trip had been broken by a three-day stop- over in a large Midwestern city. And one day, in the luxurious lobby of the best hotel that the place afforded, Lynne had tired of watching the passing throngs and had draped her lovely young self upon a couch and slept. Men had stopped and stared, while women elevated their eye- brows expressively, and the clerk, believing her ill, had been on the point of summoning the house physician when Villiers and Har- rington came in. Harrington had waked her gently and explained that one did not sleep in the hotel lobbies. ‘*And why not?”’ she had asked. ‘Because there are people all about, Lovely,’’ he had explained. ‘*But there were people all about in the train, and they slept. So did I,”’ she ar- gued. ‘‘Where is the difference?”’ ‘No difference actually,’’ Harrington had confessed. “‘It is merely custom. The one is sanctioned, the other is not.”’ Lynne had thought that extremely silly and Harrington could not dispute the basic August 20,1927 absurdity of the fact that it was permissible for a woman to sleep at will in the seat of a crowded Pullman yet could not stretch out for a comfortable nap in the lobby of a hotel. And also there was the fact that when one retired to one’s room in a hotel for the night it was for the purpose of remaining there until a prescribed hour, not too early, the following morning. Whether or not one was sleepy seemed to have no bearing on the matter. It simply was not down in the cards that one might rise and prow! about hotel corridors and the silent dark streets of cities between midnight and dawn, with- out rousing active suspicion. And so it seemed in all other matters of life. There were a thousand things like that, minor taboos prescribed by the con- ventions of civilized society. But Lynne did not resent them in the least. There were certain parallels that she might draw, and her native intelligence worked out each equation, no matter how absurd and incon- sistent it might seem at first glance. And Harrington, who had been filled with apprehension lest the bloom of her charming naturalness should be rubbed off by contact with civilization, to be replaced by artificial mannerisms, now sardonically accused himself of becoming her tutor in artificiality. Still, he recognized the neces- sity for the observance of certain conven- tions. Conduct must be more or less standardized even to the lesser details in those parts of the earth where human kind forgathers in teeming millions. Otherwise the civilized world would become a mad- house of individualism. All men turned to look at Lynne a second time, and all women appraised her from toe to crown, wistfully some of them, others enviously, and not a few resentfully. Aside from her breath-taking beauty, there was some odd arresting quality about her that commanded attention and inspired in others a vague and envious longing for something that seemed beyond their com- prehension. All this affected Lynne not at all. She was unself-conscious to a high de- gree. The truth was that Lynne, though no doubt inheriting from a thousand genera- tions the gregarious instincts of the human race, had been reared in such isolation that the instinct had become atrophied in her to a great extent. Lynne most positively was not gregarious in the sense of wishing to as- sociate intimately with crowds. Inherited instincts, in all life from plants to man, are plastic, not to be uprooted, but responsive to the process of being molded by environ- ment. By years of association with but two humans—Kilrain and Tanlika— Lynne’s inherited instincts of gregarious- ness had become adapted to limited con- tact with her kind. That had become a positive and well-developed trait. It was now too late for her to adapt herself to in- timate association with many, except by conscious effort to subordinate the dictates of her own nature. Always it would seem natural to her to associate intimately with but very few individuals and to accord to those few her entire interest. Her present association with Clay and Villiers seemed to her the most natural of all, a subconscious return to the all- satisfying trio of her infancy— Pan, Tanlika and herself. To Harrington she accorded not only the vast love that she had felt for the Old Man of the North but the added in- tensity of the love of mate for mate. To Villiers she gave that same generous meas- ure of affection that she had once bestowed upon Tanlika. Thus the demands of every avenue of her nature were completely satis- fied by these contacts—gloriously so—and the thronging crowds were but a back- ground. She was pleasant to all others whom she met, but her interest in them was destined to be mild. Even in civilized so- ciety there are many individuals so consti- tuted—to a lesser degree, of course, and (Continued on Page 55

Page 53

+ Ss = — New Chrysler “52’’—52 and more miles per hour. Beautiful new and roomier bodies. $725 to $795, f.o.b. Detroit. N | Ch Even TH full realization of the obli- gation we owe the public, we are this season offering you the fruits of our unflagging efforts to build finer and better cars and to give you, the buyer, greater quality and value. The great new “62”, with a price range of $1095 to $1295, was an- nounced July seventh. The new Chrysler“*52”, priced from$725 to $795, was presented August fourth. Their public acceptance was instan- taneous. Their success even our highest hopes. Already, to thousands of owners, both have demonstrated qualities of THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ew Chryslers Grcel Chrysler OW THE ILLUSTRIOUS NEW rysler performance, luxury and value beyond our most enthusiastic claims. Now, in announcing the illustrious new Chrysler ‘‘72’’, at $1495 and up- ward, we are confident that our new product is as great an advance over today’s fine cars as was the famous “*70” over the best of four years ago. The new “72” is ultra-modern—again setting new standards, establishing new results for the industry to follow. These three new Chryslers—‘“72”— “62”—"52”""—-with the magnificent Imperial ‘‘80”—are Chrysler’s covenant of faith with the public which has so generously demonstrated its faith in us. Motte Great New Chrysler ‘62’°—62 and more miles per hour. Quality and value supreme in its class. $1095 to $1295, f.0.b. Detroit. 99 2 See Next Page

Page 54

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘The ILLUSTRIOUS NEW Chrysler72” Longer, Roomier, Faster, Handsomer Out-distancing all Performance Rivals Setting New Standards of Riding Ease Inviting your Severest Tests. . . "1495 THE iltustrious new Chrysler i} ‘72"—longer, roomier, faster, handsomer, and with perform- ance and riding results never before achieved—could have been pro- duced only by Walter P. Chrysler, with his great engineering staff and his unparalleled manufacturing organization and facilities. While others have been building up to the standards of the first great six to bear the name of Chrysler— the six which, nearly 4 years ago, literally obsoleted previous con- ceptions of performance, beauty, riding ease and dependability — Chrysler has forged ahead to new heights of sestermenas, to new standards of quality. In the illustrious new ‘72”’°— modern as the next minute —Chry- sler excels even Chrysler. For this foremost development, this newest product, of Chrysler CHRYSLER science and skill is as far in advance of the earlier Chrysler “70” as that revolutionary car was ahead of the high, cumbersome, heavy vehicles which it superseded. In the newChrysler“72”—longer, roomier, faster, handsomer than the “70”, and rubber insulated throughout—are riding ease and operating smoothness which make the ordinary seem as bumpy and hard as the old lumber wagon back on the farm. The fetish of weight and ponder- ousness for comfort is finally and utterly destroyed. Instead, the illustrious new “72” profits from Chrysler’s four years’ experience with the notable “70” to give you light weight for econ- omy, compactness for easy handling, plus the luxury of full rubber mounting and action harmonized to and upwards F. O.B. Detroit the last degree of scientific balance. Springs with their ends anchored in blocks of live rubber cradle you softly over those nightmare bumps and thank-you-ma’ams. Full rubber engine mounting in- sulates frame and body from the least tremor of engine operation — even at speeds of 65, 70, 72 and more miles an hour. Longer, handsomer bodies— luxuriously roomy —and fully equipped with ge Be ape seat cushions, give the “feel” of your favorite easy chair. And such performance! Chrysler designates this wonder- ful new car as the ‘‘72”’—and assures you 72 and more miles per hour. And you can depend on the “more than 72” any time you want MODEL NUMBERS August 20,1927 to use it—because the new “72” motor is larger than its predecessor, the “70”, and develops 10% more power, giving a full 75 horsepower. At your normal driving speeds, the illustrious new “72” has a flash, a brilliance, a smoothness, a quiet you have never before known in any car on wheels. You may never want to use its speed capacity of 72 miles and more, but you'll find the per- formance ability that makes such speed possible the most luxurious motoring sensation you've ever known. You probably can’t even imagine, out of your past experience, a car which rides as softly as a down pil- low, over brick, cobblestone or rutted dirt— That can be driven around turns at 50, 55, 60 miles per hour — That clings to the road with the MEAN

Page 55

ea i } i

certainty of a third-rail electric train— That handles more easily at 70 and 72 miles than most cars do at 45— That flashes from 5 to 25 miles an - hour in 7 seconds— That takes even mountain grades at constant acceleration, and makes you totally unconscious of all ordi- nary hills— That hasn’t a shake, shudder, quiver or jolt in its whole range of unequalled performance — That is beautiful and luxurious beyond description — And finally, that bears the assur- ance of safety, dependability and long life that only Chrysler Stand- ardized Quality can give. You can’t imagine such a car be- cause there never has beensuch a car in its class as the illustrious new Chrysler “72”. Only by riding and driving this PER splendid \S= you fully appreciate the illustrious new ‘“72”’. All of the well-worn superlatives in the dictionary can’t picture the thrill and the glow of Chrysler “72” motoring. Begin your new “72” experience by seeing it. You'll be so fascinated by its low-swung grace, its flowing line, its longer, roomier bodies, its entrancing color harmony and its supremely fine finish that you will instantly want to drive it. And please make that drive a personal test of our every claim. Learn for yourself how extra- generously the illustrious new “72” excels your highest expectations. Four thousand seven hundred Chrysler dealers are today exhibiting the new “72”. Any one of them will gladly afford you the opportunity of driving this phenomenal new Chrysler product. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

These features of the New 72 revolutionize Motor Car Values Performance :—Nnew 6-<cylio- derengine. 75 brake horse-power, giving 10% increase in driving torque. 72 and more miles per hour. 5 to 25 miles in 7 sec pod Wipes hills out of existence. r y Com fort :—New larger, roomier bodies. 5 inches more leg room. Saddle- spring seat cushions. Three-position steering column adjustment. Ventilating windshield. Full rubber engine mount- ings. No side-sway, silico-manganese springs with ends anchored in blocks of live rubber. Full balloon tires. Shock absorbers. ry y . . Efficiency:—: bearing crank- shaft—extra large, counterweighted Impulse neutralizer. Full pressure lubri cating system. Oil filter. Air cleaner. Ven- tilated crankcase. Thermostatic engine heat control with radimeter on dash Manifold heat control. Fumer. Electric gasoline gauge. Two-stage carburetor Safety:—1, draulic 4-wheel brakes, self-equalizing. 18-inch-base wheels, giv- ing low center of gravity. Tubular front axle. Pivotal steering. Safe turns at fast driving speeds. Parabeam headlamps, with control on steering wheel. Smaller corner pillars giving greater vision. ’ Beauty: ~— New, longer, hand- somer bodies. Low, flowing lines. New radiator design. New type indirectly- lighted instrument panel. Genuine mo- hair upholstery. Jack-knife tops on open models. Charming color harmonies. y r Quality: — Fully-balanced 7-bear- ing crankshaft. Bronze-backed, babbitt- lined bearings. Invar-strut pistons. Full water-cooled valve mechanism. Extra sturdy transmission and rear axle to com- pe nsatefor greate rpower Fine stmaterials and workmanship.

new

New Chrysler or ose Who sce supreme e ormance-~speeqd, I th | k rer »erforman | pick-up, hill climbing ability, going beyond even the qualigies of its standard sixes —Chrysler furnishes its new Chrysler ment on the Illustrious New Chrysler Ster, giving even greater speed and acceleration than the standards announced. It is also available 72” body models for all other ‘ En gine High compression engine ---- The will be regular equip- 72” Road-

Page 56

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ight up....for health | )\EFECTIVE vision, aggravated by poor 4i/ light, handicaps one-fourth of all the children in American schools. Yet the difference in cost between poor light and good light is just a few pennies. Light up for health with the new Edison MAzDA* Lamps. The new lamps are more efficient, yet cost less than any type ever made before. They are frosted on the inside, realizing the long-cherished dream of a lamp giving soft, diffused light with- De nll ; out loss. They represent the latest achieve- ment of MAZDA Service, through which the benefits of world-wide research and experiment in the Laboratories of Gen- eral Electric are given exclusively to lamp manufacturers entitled to use the name MAZDA. Keep a supply. Your nearest Edison MazpDA Lamp Agent will gladly help you select the right sizes for every fixture. He displays the emblem shown at the left. *Mazpa—the mark of a research service CEM AAED LBCTRIC August 20, 1927 EDISON MAZDA LAMPS

Page 57

—— —————— Fr —— (Coniinued from Page 50) modified by necessary contacts; a harking back, no doubt, to that pretribal time when mankind prowled the jungles in family groups. Reflecting thus, Harrington was well content. Also he was glad that her thoughts often reverted to that far northern cabin that stood near the phantom falls; to their dogs, left in the care of a trader near Track’s End. Even the excitement of view- ing new scenes daily could not drive those things wholly from her thoughts. ‘‘The deer will be coming down from the north now,’ she said once. And another time: “Queen will be wondering why we do not come to praise her new puppies. They should be two months old by now.” But her mentio:. of things northern be- came less frequent as the months wore on, and Harrington wondered regretfully if she was becoming entirely weaned away from it all. Lynne, on the other hand, was en- deavoring to adapt herself to this new life which she thought Clay wished to live. But after four months, during which they had traveled extensively and tasted to the full the delights of civilization, home was call- ing her, and she mentioned the North less frequently for the reason that mention of it occasioned a wave of homesickness. She wanted her dogs, felt the urge to run with them across the open plains and through the forests—to be gone from this clang and clatter of train and traffic and the press of swarming humanity. But she said nothing of all this to Harrington. This was his life and she must learn to live it. And Harring- ton, himself longing for the vast peace and quiet of that far northern cabin and for the wilderness where a man might know him- self intimately, felt that to deprive Lynne of all this which she was now experiencing for the first time and to take her back to a life of isolation would be an act of base selfishness. Lynne observed the scurrying multitudes with considerable interest. ‘Their faces are so different —no two the same, yet there is something of the same quality in every face,’’ she remarked to Vil- liers and Harrington. ‘“‘They want some- thing—every one of them. What is it that they want. Clay?”’ ‘*Happiness,”’ Harrington said. ‘‘They are seeking it without knowing what they seek. They set some goal and strain toward it, only to find when they have attained it that it was not what they sought. That’s the composite face of civilization, Lovely, that you’re seeing behind the mask of each individual face.” “Will they ever find it looking for?”’ ‘‘No,” said Harrington. ‘It is doubtful. A very few of them perhaps.” “It is tragic, someway,”’ she said reflec- tively. ‘‘Pan didn’t have that look, nor Tanlika. You had it when you first came into my country. That was the first time I had seen it. It puzzled me.’’ She regarded him closely. ‘‘ You haven’t that look about you now.” ‘*No,” he said. wanted—you.”’ Her expressive gray eyes said things to him that caused a stranger who had looked into them in passing to blunder against three successive pedestrians while he gazed over his shoulder at her retreating back. And as her eyes peered behind the surface expression of the faces about her and de- tected the strained spirits underneath, so her ears caught the hidden inflections and undercurrents in the voices that were mod- ulated for concealment. ‘They say what they do not mean,”’ she announced. ‘‘And they laugh when they are neither happy nor amused. It is only a gesture.” She realized now the immensity of the world of men and the relatively small like- lihood that Clay would meet that other woman, the thought of whom had occa- sioned her such mental -travail. Still the thought of it persisted in the background of her mind. That was the eternal feminine in her. Always there would be that feeling that the next woman encountered might what they’re “T have found what I THE SATURDAY prove to be theonetowhom Clay’s allegiance had once been given. Would he give it to her stillif they should chance tomeet? How could she be quite sure? That was the one little apprehension that seemed destined to persist, a grain of sand on the mental eyeball of her happiness. Of the delights of civilization, in the main, she had seen quite enough for the present. It did not bore her exactly, but there was a certain amount of sameness, of repetition, to it all after the novelty had worn off. But there was one thing with which she was never satiated—music. It spoke to her, telling her things that it did not seem to convey to others. She would linger to listen even to the clang of a me- chanical piano in a penny arcade or to the drums and cymbals of religious enthusiasts on street corners, in preference to visiting some famous edifice that stood as a monu- ment to man’s constructive ingenuity. The very thing that she adored above all other delights of civilization was, strangely enough, the very thing that occasioned the sharpest pangs of homesickness. Music, of whatever variety, while intoxicating her, tugged her heartstrings and led her spirit back to her Northland home. They were dressing for the opera—the last time, incidentally that Harrington would take her to the opera for many a moon; though he did not know it then when a band of sorts paraded through the streets below and the strains of a march rose to their windows. She came to him swiftly, all pink-and-white loveliness, and twined her arms round his neck. “*T wish I could express it, Clay, dear what it does to me,’’ she said. ‘‘It seems as if it were trying to recall things to my mind that have been forgotten—strange things that I should remember, but cannot. I can’t get it.” ‘Music affects you in the same way that you affect me,” he said. ‘‘And that’s as near as I can define it myself.” At the opera she gave herself up unre- servedly to the strains that swept from wild physical, barbaric rhythm to heights of pure intellectual delight. At one period, during a heavy throbbing reiteration that was almost monotony, yet draggingly com- pelling, she clutched Harrington’s arm and whispered, “‘The falls! The falls! Don’t you hearthem?’’ And again: “Listen, the huskies are beginning to howl. Don’t you hear their voices lifting above the boom of the falls? It all blends in.’’ Throughout she commented in whispers as to what it told her. She heard the sustained screech- ing voice of the storm king riding an Arctic blizzard, suddenly subdued to the hiss of wings as millions of migrants returned to greet the loving spring, with here and there the silvery fluting notes of a returning plover sprinkled in; and through, above and below it all the booming rhythmic throb of the falls. The music dripped to a close. The lights came on. Lynne turned suddenly to Harrington and rested both hands on hisarm. ‘I have it now!’’ She was utterly unconscious of the close-packed hundreds seated round them. ‘“‘Music carries you back. This takes me back until I hear every note in the North—the wind in the trees, the rapids, the birds and insects—everything. When I go back there the music of the falls and the screech of the storms will bring me back to this. Don’t you see?”’ Villiers was leaning toward Harrington and a trifle forward, to catch her low-voiced hurried flow of words. A hundred pairs of eyes were riveted on this oddly assorted but arresting trio. She was so obviously un- conscious of any but the three of them that no observer even suspected that her sudden sidewise pose was a play to the gallery, a bid for attention. For it was also obvious that the whole wide world would always ac- cord her notice without an effort on her part. And many ears were strained, with little success, to catch the substance of her low-pitched words. “Tt carries every individual back con- sciously for as far as his recollection goes,”’ she said. ‘‘But so much farther than that EVENING POST This sort of music is the rhythm of all N ture, beautifully expressed. Men who con pose it must necessarily do it by feeling they couldn’t possibly think it out. Cor scious recollection doesn’t reach back that far. That’s why it is difficult to define music intelligently. You feel it but cannot express it adequately in words.” Villiers and Harrington nodded smiling agreement and understanding. She sat back, delighted at having been able to rasp a partial definition of the thing to ward which her mind had been groping She laughed contentedly, and in that laug! were all the beautiful things that she had just endeavored to express in words. Those who were sufficiently ne t someway that the world was a far better + ¢ o hear it fe place in which to live than they had prev ously suspected. “If we could only take that back home with us—music,”’ space. “All the rest of it doesn’t matter Still, I can always hear it in the falls after this,” Then, after another interval of silence, just as the lights were dimmed, ** That's the larger, the universal aspect of music, that carries all life, unconsciously, back to the beginning. Consciously it she said dreamily after a carnes eacn it dividual back somewhere along the line within scope of his recollection. With me, all music will always recall that day when you came paddling up the river, singing Do you remember, Clay?’”’ XVII HE final matters of Lynne’s inheritance seemed in a fair way to be settled before noon. On several occasions she had gone with Villiers to confer with Allison, a repre- sentative of her mother’s family who had assured them that there would be no diffi culty. Long since, her cousin, daughter of her mother’s sister and chief beneficiary of her grandfather’s vast estate, had been summoned from a far part of the world But Alice Chatham Vane had seen no rea son why she should discemmode herself by leaving and hurrying home before the sea- son ended. After all, the claimant was the one who would benefit, not herself, so if there were to be inconvenience on either side, surely it should be borne by this long- lost relative. Soshe had tarried, but at last she had returned and they were to meet in Allison’s presence at ten o’clox Harrington had attended none of the few previous meetings nor did he know the bare names of any of the principals save Lynne’s Villiers, for reasons of his own, had re- quested that he should be allowed to carry on negotiations alone. And Harring- ton, with more confidence in the judgment of this man than in that of any other of his acquaintance, had acceded to the request without a question. As Lynne and Villiers were about to enter the cab that waited to convey them to the conference, Villiers handed the girl into the conveyance and re- turned briefly to Harrington ‘Join us at eleven,”’ he instructed, telling him the appointed place may be necessary.’” Then he was gone Those who convened in Allison's office “Your presence constituted an oddly assorted group. There was Allison himself, a man of vast affairs There was Ruvierre, the bearded priest of the North, his voluminous brown and white beard almost concealing the front of his flowing black cassock. There was Villiers, the product of mixed races. Ly ness shed a radiance over this motley gather- ing, upon which presently Alice Chatham Vane, one of the half-dozen wealthiest women in the world, entered composedly Lynne, at the moment, was gazing ab sorbedly at a picture of her mother, whom she had never seen to remember. Lynne had evinced little interest in this meeting with her cousin. And Alice Vane had an ticipated little but boredom while hastening through the necessary details of the trans- action. But at first glimpse each cousin knew a swift hot pride that the other was of her own blood. Each recognized in the other the stamp of the world’s royalty. The nne ’s loveli- one, s¢ hooled to conceal emotion to the A es asUuaines t yreeted fe ng yt ‘ rY sed B Ly f j 5 zed with manifes gt n the glor 1 e that w Alhce Vane | KI V VO WW vuld be Ke if ing her trant ‘You must come to me at once, my dear as soon as we conclude e few necessary details h s 1 Alice Vane It sno | not take M Alliso me tnat everything is quite ir ie nd that thers n be no doubt of your identity If there were any doubt it would have been dis pelled in my mind immediately after on« glance at you You come of Chatham stock unquestionably.” Witt naracteris ibruptness Lynne turned to Allison W ncony ence her in the least if I should e this —this bequest?”’ she demanded ‘Not in the very least,"’ Alice swered for him ‘It has been wi you, untouched, and it is really very little, in comparison.”’ It was very little, perhaps, as compared to ce Vane’s holdings, yet Villiers had told her that it constituted a really tre mendous fortune. Alice Vane, of course, was one of the very few of the world’s favor ites. She had everything that any humar } , ‘ , >, +a ’ might desire, Lynne reflected. But did she Beneath her cousin's exterior air of happi ness and vast self-possession Lynne de tected that same specter that she had sensed lurking behind all faces in this world ¢ of civilization that ceaseless want | something that seemed always unfulfilled What more could Alice Vane require to make her life complete? Yet she wanted something desperat ly The signs were there for Lynne to read, however effectually they might be concealed from others. But it was certain that she did not want Lynne’s legacy. That would mean nothing to h It was something that wealth could not purchase. That much was certain, else Alice Vane would have since. No. It was something else An attorney whom Allison had called ir cleared his throat and read sonorous!ly from a lengthy document. Lynne was not much interested in it. Her mind was probing for the secret of that shade of sadness, that desperate want of something that rested ucquired it long just beneath the charming external serenity of her cousin’s face. Aiice Vane smiled at her. But the eyes did not smile the door opened and Harrington stepped i Lynne had not expected him and her eyes Just then Loo} ing into f drawn to her widened with swift pieasure them, Harrington felt hims¢ as if she had opened her arms to him. Then, his eyes straying from one to another of the group, his startled glance focused upon Alice Vane Ly ne, follow.ng the direction o! his gaze, saw tne veiled ht ome o the eyes of her cousin at the sight of his tower- Instantly, unerringly, Lynne snew what it was that Alice Vane wanted the one thing further th This, the , 1—this glorious cousin of hers at she asked of life was the girl of the story Alice Vane rose gton. ‘““Why, } } t inis is aimost easily and advanced to Harri Clay Clay Harrington! ce seeing the ghost of a dear departed one after a lapse of years. Your friends had just about given you up as lost,’’ she said. “‘I’m so glad to see you again, Clay. Where in the world have you been hiding all these years? Beneat iddress Lynne detected the hidden vibrations of an the casual manner of that was anything but casual; i almost breathless. Of all the others present none save Villiers read into that meeting anything save a cordial greet Villers had deliberately arranged this meeting. In all of her life Lynne had known but one great r between two old friends apprehension Always some vestige of would linger with her unless the very root of thet t snould be thought that occasioned Continued on Page 57

Page 58

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST BIRD'S RUGS DEFY WATER AND WEAR The Magic Rug of the Twentieth Century MAGIC ~ because they take the drudgery out of housework—they are cleaned with a few whisks of a damp mop MAGIC =~ because their enamel-like surface, built on a waterproof felt base, makes them wear, and wear, and wear. MAGIC ~ because they lie flat without fastening. MAGIC ~ because enormous production makes it possible to buy them in a variety of patterns and colors in room sizes from $6 to $18. If every woman knew what every present owner knows, every house would have a Bird's Neponset Rug. If any salesman says, “It’s Bird’s"’—that's really all you need to know. Look for the patented red wax back. f For cleanliness, beauty ,and economy,you owe it to yourself to use Bird’s Neponset Rugs or Floor Covering in every room of your home BIRD & EAST WALP OLE—Eftablish CHICAGO In Canada — Bil | NEPONSET | August 20,1927 cd Rug for Crery Room Beneath the Magic Rug extends a landscape dotted with Bird's Roots. Pleasant homes are roofed with Neponset Asphalt Shingles in all their delightful color variations of Art-Blende, Green, Blue-Black, or Red. Farm buildings, warehouses and industrial plants are roofed with “Good Old Paroid.” There is a Bird Roof within the reach of everyone who is going to build or repair. These roofs meet the modern demand for: WATERPROOF ROOFS—made with time-defying asphalt. SAFE ROOFS—they do not catch fire from falling sparks. HANDSOME ROOFS crushed slate. DEPENDABLE ROOFS—132 years of manufacturing experience are back of them. There is a Bird Dealer near you who will help you select a suitable roof, or our advice surfaced with colorful re mney .vD is at your service. SON, inc. ed 1795—_MASSACHUSETTS NEW YORK BirD & SON Division, Hamilton, Ontario BIRD'S OOFS DEFY WATER AND WEAR

Page 59

if a (Continued from Page 55) eliminated. She must prove the ground- lessness of her apprehension to herself. So Villiers sat imperturbably and waited while Harrington and Alice Vane exchanged the customary casual greetings between two valued friends who have not met for long Alice Vane rested her hand in friendly fashion on Harrington’s arm. Then Lynne rose and crossed to them, moving with that wild free grace of hers. She lifted the hand from Clay’s arm and placed her own there in its stead. Alice Vane, looking into the gray eyes of her new- found cousin, saw a hint of sorrow there, and deep beneath it an odd flare, as if greenish lightning, held in leash, lurked there ready to leap forth. From some dim inner recess of her being the thought sprang to her consciousness that for a fraction of a second death had stared her grimly in the face. But her reasoning intelligence dis- ‘arded the thought as instantly, for Lynne had turned her eyes to Harrington. “Clay, this matter will all be settled within an hour. I’m tired of all this and want to go home. Will you take me home, Clay, at once?”’ A glad light leaped into Harrington's eyes as swift pictures of that far northern cabin, of a girl running at the head of a swarm of wolfish dogs, of tens of thousands of caribou migrating across the tundra, of many allied scenes, flitted kaleidoscopically across the negative of his mind. ‘‘Any minute, Lovely, that you say the word,” he responded instantly. ““Could you make the arrangements to start today?’’ she asked. “This very day,’” he assured her Alice Vane, who had dominated every situation in which she had figured even slightly since her infancy, divined that she was now a mere spectator, forgotten by these two. ‘Then would you mind going now to make the arrangements while I conclude this matter alone?’’ Lynne asked. ‘‘ Then I will join you and we will start at once.”’ Harrington lifted his eyes to Villiers, who had told him that his presence here might be necessary. Villiers nodded slightly. Harrington had already accomplished all that Villiers had desired of him, though he did not know it. “It might be well,’’ Villiers acquiesced softly. “All right, Lynne. I’m on my way,” Harrington announced. He indulged in the formula of a brief cordial leave-taking of Alice Vane, some pleasant meaningless phrases to the effect that it was devastating to have met only to part again so swiftly. He voiced a polite hope that they would meet again soon, though both of them knew that they would never meet again—the polite inanities without which life would be hideous in the crowded centers of civiliza- tion. Then the door closed behind him. Lynne turned slowly back and resumed her seat. The attorney cleared his throat again, preparatory to resuming his reading of the lengthy document. Then Lynne spoke: “The point is you're not interested either,’’ said Jacob. “‘If I thought that you two really cared about each other, do you think I'd be fool enough to try to stand in the way? But you don’t give a darn about her, and she’s impressed and a little fasci- nated.”’ ‘“‘Sure,”’ agreed Farrelly, bored. ‘I wouldn’t touch her for anything.” Jacob laughed. ‘‘Yes, you would. Just for something to do. That’s what I object to--anything—anything casual happening to her.”’ ‘**T see what you mean. I'll let her alone.”’ Jacob was forced to be content with that. He had no faith in Billy Farrelly, but he guessed that Farrelly liked him and wouldn't offend him unless stronger feelings were involved But the holding hands THE SATURDAY ‘I should like thi this bequest to go to her, to my cousin,’’ she announced. * Will you take it~ from me?” she urged of Alice Vane. Her cousin smiled at the entreaty, the hint of tragedy, in Lynne’s expressive eyes “Sporting of you, my dear,’ she said, divining the source of this generous im pulse. ‘‘But I have so much as it is. I'd far rather you should have it.”’ “But I can’t take it,’’ Lynne declared, rising. ‘‘Someway I just cannot.” “Tf I might suggest,”’ Allison intervened, “it is probably lack of experience as to what wealth can do for you—or an impul- sive piece of altruism.’’ Then, as Lynne shook her head decisively and announced ‘“*T’ll not take it,”’ she turned to Villiers for support. This careless disregard for so large an amount seemed to Allison's financial mind to border on theirreligious. Atleast it was evidence of immature judgment. He recalled the weeks of careful investigation to make sure that this claimant was not an impostor. This sudden turn in events was something quite outside the bounds of his previous experience. It upset all his ideas of balance. ‘*But since it was left to you ” he began. ‘Since it was,’”” Lynne interrupted, “I should be entitled to do with it as I please. There are reasons why I cannot take it This time it was Allison who turned to Villiers for support. “Why not?” Villiers murmured. ‘‘ Why not-—if she doesn’t wish it? I would sug- gest that she be permitted to do as she thinks best. I can assure you that she will do as she chooses in any event.” “T leave the disposition of it to you,” Lynne said to Villiers, ‘‘so long as none of it comes to me. I am going now.” She crossed to her cousin and extended both hands. “I’m sorry,”’ she said in a low voice, her words inaudible to the others. “I would share anything with you--give you anything I could—but that.” “Yes, my dear,’ said Alice Vane “a quite understand.” Then Lynne was gone. Straight as a homing bird she was going to the man that she would never lose. She knew that now. Xvi HE gold camps of Alaska and the Yukon ran their course, as all gold camps do The population departed from many a once-thriving town, leaving behind only the deserted buildings echoing with the hollow futility of dead ambitions. Many gold seekers linger on. It is still predicted among the prospecting fraternity that the greatest strike in all history will be made one day in the unknown regions to the east of the divide that separates the Yukon and Mackenzie watersheds. But the interior still guards its secrets, and that one little group of intrepid souls who once sought to unravel its mysteries is gone. They are all gone and no man knows how they passed One and all, they headed into the unknown regions to the eastward, and the North that JACOB’S LADDER Continued from Page 5 under the table tonight had annoyed him Jenny lied about it when he reproached her; she offered to let him take her home immediately, offered not to speak to Far relly again all evening. Then he had seemed silly and pointless to himself It would have been easier, when Farrelly said “So you're in love with this baby,” to have been able to answer simply, “‘I am.” But he wasn’t. He valued her now more than he had ever thought possible. He watched in her the awakening of a sharply individual temperament. She liked quiet and simple things. She was developing the capacity to discriminate and shut the trivial and the unessential out of her life He tried giving her books; then wisely he gave up that and brought her into contact with a variety of men. He made situations EVENING POST they ew , = the end It aiway 0 Pe na Ha ny fe) ime lingers ert the n rie annai I the rT ny ary | r ed i f Wi t 4 k 4 staked I ( ect Some t IcK It ind waited Ha ‘ etu and air ! e e x flood But he neve One larly —Al Reese; gru aked v Ha ton’s winnings In a poke Wa Said made a big strike o ‘ r | ‘ afte Harrington had ippeare He named the cree after | enetacto ihe diggings on Har rton Creek are deserted now Only the scars remain as evidence of the swarming act of days gone by. But ma in on 1 ¢ yw metal was | este from the icer workings of that tream be e the gold ed out ©) ) he worid or anotner, at d a ship a tall man accom panied by ingsters, S abou them an air of consequence — not arrogance, but rather a suggestion that they own the world and know it. Usually a very swarthy individual accompanies them—an Oriental prince perhaps An arresting group. Ob servers know instantly that these people are ' \ 17 r Y , ; ‘ somehow different hey seem possessed o some qua b analysis, but wt rouses a W lu in the breasts of al who see them. One feels vaguely that they have attained to some definite goal toward which all others are vainly striving but which seems ever to recede No one c give it a name Possibly it is a state of solute serenity, the tranquillity of spirit that comes only to those who have tour i what they want on earth, who have nothing more to ask of life and know it. None know whence they come or to where they journey when once they disappear After the lapse of a quarter of a century the Moccasin Tele grapn | ing again bout the cour of the big falls that no man has seer Isolated tribes throughout almost a million square miles of wilderness nave ge tales to tell. Versions vary y, but there is a germ of the same idea It sald that back in there where ind burns near the phantom falls exists a race of tall f people of rengtn ¢ 1 much magi All agree lis race rules the wild things. It is that great wolves herd bands of caribou for them on the tundra and that wild ducks, geese and ptarmigans lay fresh eggs in their dooryard Now the North is a land of odd rumors, any ol which may prove to be true, for there are vast areas that have never known the tread of a white man, and it is from these unknown regions that most of! the ] ’ strange tales emanat It ma ve that these t are true In iny eve tno who have ved long in the } h do no turn a deaf ear when the Mo sin Tele graph is rumbling THE END and then explained them to her, and he wa pleased, as appreciation and _ politenes began to blossom before | eye He ued, too, her utter trust in him and t fact that she used him as a standard for judgments on other mer she was offered a two-year contract on the strength of her work in it--four hundred a week for six months and an increase on a sliding scale. But she would have to got the Cx “Wouldn't you rather me wait?” she said s they drove ir the country one afternoon. ‘‘ Wouldn't ther have me stay here in New York nea yu?” ‘You've got to go where your work takes you. You ought to be able to lool out for yourself, You're seventeer Watch This Column Our Weekly Letter HARRY POLLARD who directed Universal's Spectacle “Uncle Tom’s Cabin’’ Universal’s magnificent production of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin’’ is destined to create a sensation throughout America, if not the entire world. Unless it does so, then I am no prophet. It will have its premiérein New York City thismonth and if you or your friends are in New York at that time I feel certain it will be one of the big treats of your visit The production has been almost two years in the making and has already cost over two million dollars. I mention the amount to give you an idea of the elaborate ness and immensity of the production. I belieVe it is the biggest picture-spectack ever made and I hope will prove the best Another Universal picture which I am confident will win the plaudits of the fans is ‘‘ The Cat and the Canary,”’ adapted from the stage play by John Willard, with LAURA LA PLANTE, ARTHUR ED MUND CAREW, CREIGHTON HALE and other stars. It's a Paul Leni Pro juctior Still another is “The Irre- sistible Lover,’’ featuring NOR MAN KERRY and LOIS MORAN supported by these sterling play ers: MYRTLE STEDMAN, GERT RUDE ASTOR, PHILLIPS SMALLEY and LEE MORAN I have received several letters saying, ‘‘I suppose this letter will never reach you per sonally and will be thrown in the waste sket Let n say that none of y etters are ever waste-basket« ind I e and answer every one. Write and see ? - ( Qi fae PFA LE , f > resider (To be continued next week) Send 10c for autographed photograph of your favorite niversai star lf you want to be on our mailing list send in your name and address UNIVERSAL PICTURES 730 Fifth Ave., New York City

Page 60

58 was as old as he; she was ageless. Her dark eyes under a yellow straw hat were as full of destiny as though offered to toss destiny Seventeen—she just wonder if you hadn't come along, someone would of,’’ she said—‘‘to make me do things, I mean.’ ‘You'd have done them yourself. Get it out of your head that you’re dependent on me.” ‘Iam. Everything is, thanks to you.” “Tt isn’t, though,” he said emphatically, but he brought no reasons; he liked her to think that. ‘I don’t know what I'll do without you. You're my only friend’’-- and she added ‘that I care about. You see? You under- stand what I mean?” He laughed at her, enjoying the birth of her egotism implied in her right to be un- derstood. She was lovelier that afternoon than he had ever seen her, delicate, reso- nant and, for him, undesirable. But some- times he wondered if that sexlessness wasn’t for him alone, wasn't a side that, perhaps purposely, she turned toward him. She was happiest of all with younger men, though she pretended to despise them. Billy Farrelly, obligingly and somewhat to her mild chagrin, had left her alone. “When will you come out to Holly- wood?”’ “Soon,” he else ““And you'll be promised coming back to New York. She began to ery. ‘‘Oh, Vil miss you so much! I'll miss you so much!” Large tears of distress ran down her warm ivory “Oh, she cried softly. You been good to me! Where’s your hand? Where’s your hand? You been the best friend anybody ever had. Where am I ever going to find a friend like you?” She was acting now, but a lump arose in his throat and for a moment a wild idea ran back and forth in his mind, like a blind man, knocking ever its solid furniture—to marry her. He had only to make the sug- gestion, he knew, and she would come close to him and know no one else, because he would understand her forever. Next day, in the station, she was pleased her flowers, her compartment, with the prospect of a longer trip than she had taken before. When she kissed him good-by her deep eyes came close to his i she pressed against him as if against the separation. Again but he knew that behind her tears lay the happiness of adventure in new \s he walked out of the station, New York was curiously empty. Through her eyes he had seen old colors once more; now they had faded back into the gray tapestry of the past. The next day he went to an office high in a buiiding on Park Avenue and talked to a famous specialist he had not visited for a decade. ‘I want you to examine the larynx “There's not much hope, but something might have changed the situation.” He swallowed a complicated system of mirrors. He breathed in and out, made high and low sounds, coughed at a word of command. The specialist fussed and touched. Then he sat back and took out his eyeglass. ‘‘ There’s no change,” he said. they’re sim- t isn’t anything that can be Vs cheeks geeze. with ever again ant test cre d, helds again,” he said. “The cords are not diseased ply worn out. treated.” ‘I thought so,” said Jacob, humbly, as if guilty of an impertinence. y what you told me be- wasn't sure how permanent it iing when he came out Park Avenue—a half a wish, that some id lost someti ate,”” he wired her. closed. Black wreaths tue of Civie Virtue Please work remarkably happy.” Dear wired back, ‘‘miss » You are the nicest man that ever d and I mean it, dear. Please don't for- Tos ap 99 Jacob.”’ she THE SATURDAY Winter came. The picture Jenny had made in the East was released, together with preliminary interviews and articles in the fan magazines. Jacob sat in his apart- ment, playing the Kreutzer Sonata over and over on his new phonograph, and read her meager and stilted but affectionate let- ters and the articles which said she was a discovery of Billy Farrelly’s. In February he became engaged to an old friend, now a widow. They went to Florida and were suddenly snarling at each other in hotel corridors and over bridge games, so they decided not to go through with it after all. In the spring he took a stateroom on the Paris, but three days before sailing he disposed of it and went to California. Iv R sag met him at the station, kissed him and clung to his arm in the car all the way to the Ambassador Hotel. ‘‘ Well, the man came,” she cried. “I never thought I’d get him to come. I never did.” Her accent betrayed an effort at control. The emphatic ‘‘Geeze!”’ with all the won- der, horror, disgust or admiration she could put in it was gone, but there was no mild substitute, no “swell” or “‘grand.” If her mood required expletives outside her repertoire, she kept silent. But at seventeen, months are years and Jacob perceived a change in her; in no sense was she a child any longer. There were fixed things in her mind—not dis- tractions, for she was instinctively too po- lite for that, but simply things there. No longer was the studio a lark and a wonder and a divine accident; no longer ‘‘for a nickel I wouldn’t turn up tomorrow.” It was part of her life. Circumstances were stiffening into a career which went on inde- pendently of her casual hours. ‘If this picture is as good as the other I mean if I make a personal hit again, Heck- sher’ll break the contract. Everybody that’s seen the rushes says it’s the first one I’ve had sex appeal in.” ““What are the rushes?” “When they run off what they took the day before. They say it’s the first time I’ve had sex appeal.” “IT don’t notice it,” he teased her. “You wouldn’t. But I have.” “T know you have,” he said, and, moved by an ill-considered impulse, he took her hand. She glanced quickly at him. He smiled half a second too late. Then she smiled and her glowing warmth veiled his mistake. “Jake,” she cried, ‘I could bawl, I’m so glad you’re here! I got you a room at the Ambassador. They were full, but they kicked out somebody because I said I had to have a room. I'll send my car back for you in half an hour. It’s good you came on Sunday, because I got all day free.” They had luncheon in the furnished apartment she had leased for the winter. It was 1920 Moorish, taken over complete from a favorite of yesterday. Someone had told her it was horrible, for she joked about it; but when he pursued the matter he found that she didn’t know why. ‘IT wish they had more nice men out here,’’ she said once during luncheon. ‘Of course there’s a‘lot of nice ones, but I mean Oh, you know, like in New York—men that know even more than a girl does, like you.” After luncheon he learned that they were going to tea. ‘‘Not today,’’ he objected. “‘T want to see you alone.” “All right,’”’ she agreed doubtfully. ‘I suppose I could telephone. I thought It’s a lady that writes for a lot of news- papers and I’ve never been asked there be- fore. Still, if you don’t want to “4 Her face had fallen a little and Jacob as- sured her that he couldn’t be more willing. Gradually he found that they were going not to one party but to three. ‘In my position, it’s sort of the thing to do,”’ she explained. ‘‘Otherwise you don’t see anybody except the people on your own lot, and that’s narrow.”’ Hesmiled. ‘‘ Well, anyhow,” she finished —‘‘anyhow, you EVENING POST smart Aleck, that’s what everybody does on Sunday afternoon.” At the first tea, Jacob noticed that there was an enormous preponderance of women over men, and of supernumeraries—lady journalists, cameramen’s daughters, cutters’ wives—over people of importance. A young Latin named Raffino appeared for a brief moment, spoke to Jenny and departed; several stars passed through, asking about children’s health with a domesticity that was somewhat overpowering. Another group of celebrities posed immobile, statue- like, in a corner. There was a somewhat inebriated and very much excited author apparently trying to make engagements with one girl after another. As the after- noon waned, more people were suddenly a little tight; the communal voice was higher in pitch and greater in volume as Jacob and Jenny went out the door. At the second tea, young Raffino—-he was an actor, one of innumerable hopeful Valentinos— appeared again for a minute, talked to Jenny a little longer, a little more attentively this time, and went out. Jacob gathered that this party was not considered to have quite the swagger of the other. There was a bigger crowd around the cock- tail table. There was more sitting down. Jenny, he saw, drank only lemonade. He was surprised and pleased at her dis- tinction and good manners. She talked to one person, never to everyone within hear- ing; then she listened, without finding it necessary to shift her eyes about. Deliber- ate or not on her part, he noticed that at both teas she was sooner or later talking to the guest of most consequence. Her seri- ousness, her air of saying “This is my op- portunity of learning something,” beckoned their egotism imperatively near. When they left to drive to the last party, a buffet supper, it was dark and the electric legends of hopeful real-estate brokers were gleaming to some vague purpose on Beverly Hills. Outside Graumans’ Theater a crowd was already gathered in the thin, warm rain. *‘Look! Look!” she cried. It was the picture she had finished a month before. They slid out of the thin Rialto of Holly- wood Boulevard and into the deep gloom of a side street; he put his arm about her and kissed her. “Dear Jake.””, She smiled up at him. “Jenny, you're so lovely; I didn’t know you were so lovely.” She looked straight ahead, her face mild and quiet. A wave of annoyance passed over him and he pulled her toward him ur- gently, just as the car stopped at a lighted door. They went into a bungalow crowded with people and smoke. The impetus of the formality which had begun the afternoon was long exhausted; everything had be- come at once vague and strident. “This is Hollywood,” explained an alert, talkative lady who had been in his vicinity all day. “‘No airs on Sunday afternoon.” She indicated the hostess. ‘“‘Just a plain, simple, sweet girl.’”’ She raised her voice: “Isn’t that so, darling—just a plain, sim- ple, sweet girl?”’ The hostess said, “Yeah. Who is?” And Jacob’s informant lowered her voice again: ‘‘But that little girl of yours is the wisest one of the lot.” The totality of the cocktails Jacob had swallowed was affecting him pleasantly, but try as he might, the plot of the party the key on which he could find ease and tranquillity—eluded him. There wassome- thing tense in the air—something com- petitive and insecure. Conversations with the men had a way of becoming empty and overjovial or else melting off into a sort of suspicion. The women were nicer. At eleven o’clock, in the pantry, he suddenly realized that he hadn’t seen Jenny for an hour. Returning to the living room, he saw her come in, evidently from outside, for she tossed a raincoat from her shoulders. She was with Raffino. When she came up, Jacob saw that she was out of breath and her eyes were very bright. Raftino smiled at Jacob pleasantly and negligently; a few moments later, as he turned to go, he bent August 20,1927 and whispered in Jenny’s ear and she looked at him without smiling as she said good night. “*T got to be on the lot at eight o’clock,”’ she told Jacob presently. ‘I'll look like an old umbrella unless I go home. Do you mind, dear?”’ “Heavens, no!” Their car drove over one of the inter- minable distances of the thin, stretched city. “Jenny,” he said, “‘you’ve never looked like you were tonight. Put your head on my shoulder.” ““T’d like to. I’m tired.” “T can’t tell you how radiant you've got to be.” “*T’m just the same.’ *“No, you’re not.”” His voice suddenly became a whisper, trembling with emotion. “Jenny, I’m in love with you.” ‘Jacob, don’t be silly.” “I’m in love with you. Isn’t it strange, Jenny? It happened just like that.” “*You’re not in love with me.” “You mean the fact doesn’t interest you.”’ He was conscious of a faint twinge of fear. She sat up out of the circle of his arm. “Of course it interests me; you know I care more about you than anything in the world.” ‘**More than about Mr. Raffino?”’ ““Oh—my-—gosh!” she protested scorn- fully. ‘*Raffino’s nothing but a baby.” “I love you, Jenny.” ‘*No, you don’t.” He tightened his arm. Was it his imag- ination or was there a small instinctive re- sistance in her body? But she came close to him and he kissed her. **You know that’s crazy about Raffino.”’ “I suppose I’m jealous.”’ Feeling in- sistent and unattractive, he released her. But the twinge of fear had become an ache. Though he knew that she was tired and that she felt strange at this new mood in him, he was unable to let the matter alone. “T didn’t realize how much a part of my life you were. I didn’t know what it was | missed —but I know now. I wanted you near.” ‘*Well, here I am.” He took her words as an invitation, but this time she relaxed wearily in his arms. He held her thus for the rest of the way, her eyes closed, her short hair falling straight back, like a girl drowned. “The car’ll take you to the hotel,’’ she said when they reached the apartment. ‘*Remember, you’re having lunch with me at the studio tomorrow.” Suddenly they were in a discussion that was almost an argument, as to whether it was too late for him to come in. Neither could yet appreciate the change that his declaration had made in the other. Ab- ruptly they had become ‘ik different peo- ple, as Jacob tried desperately to turn back the clock to that night in New York six months before, and Jenny watched this mood, which was more than jealousy and less than love, snow under, one by one, the qualities of consideration and understand ing which she knew in him and with which she felt at home. “But I don’t love you like that,’’ she cried. ‘‘How can you come to me all at once and ask me to love you like that?”’ ““You love Raffino like that!” “‘T swear I don’t! I never even kissed him—not really!” “H’m!”’ He was a gruff white bird now He could scarcely credit his own unpleas- antness, but something illogical as love it self urged him on. ‘An actor!” **Oh, Jake,”’ she cried, “‘ please lemme go I never felt so terrible and mixed up in my life.”’ ‘“‘T’ll go,”” he said suddenly. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter, except that I’m so mad about you that I don’t know what I’m saying. I love you and you don’t love me. Once you did, or thought you did, but that’s evidently over.” “But I do love you.”” She thought fora moment; the red-and-green glow of a filling Continued on Page 63 ’

Page 61

{ {

4

aI¥

A Warning— We Use Gen sis ALEMITE Alemite-ing Costs NoMoreTha Ordinary Greasing THE SATURDAY EVENING POST e Lubricants

Hundreds of Alemite Service Stations are now equipped with the new Alemite Airline Lubri- gun. Operates by com- pressed air. A big time andlaborsaver Motorists quickly appreciate its speedy, thorough service to 11,000,000 Motorists! If your car is equipped with A HERE are 11,000,000 cars in America today that are equipped with the Ale- mite High Pressure Lubricating System. Motor car manufacturers have equipped your car with Alemite because, if properly used, it is the means of eliminating 80% of ordinary repair bills. It is to you, who have Alemite already on your car, that we issue this warning: It has come to our attention, from a great many sources, that cheap greases are being used in lubricating cars with the Alemite System. Now, the best lubricating system in the world will not offset the use of cheap grease. Cheap greases will literally burn up if a bear- ing becomes heated. They LIUSE IMM © 1927,T.B.M. Co. CHASSIS LUBRI

freeze solid in winter. Loaded with fillers, they get lumpy and rancid, and corrode the bearings. That is why hundreds of consci- entious service stations and garages have asked us to produce a reliable lubricant. They knew we had an interest to protect, outside of merely making some grease. Because of this insistent demand, we have finally developed Alemite Chassis Lubricant. It will stand up under 3,000 pounds pressure. [Average grease breaks down at 200 pounds pressure. } It resists heat up to 400° Fahrenheit. It will lubricate your car properly at 30° below zero. We do not wish to infer that this is the only good brand of chassis lubri- cant. There are others. But unless you already know a brand that you If you lubricate your own car you CQn absolutely rely upon, we urge can purchase this lubricant in 5 lb. “! ; z > cans at your dealer's. Service sta- you to specify genuine Alemite Chassis tions using genuine Alemite Chassis Lubricant are easily identified by Lubricant. the display sign shown above. lemite please read this! We are making this statement for our own interest as well as yours. For our main interest is to see that the Alemite System which we manufacture gives you complete satisfaction. To further protect your interests and ours, every dealer using genuine Alemite Chassis and Gear Lubricants displays the yellow sign shown above. Look for it. Engineers say you should have this lubri- cation ‘‘every 500 miles.” THE BASSICK MANUFACTURING COMPANY DIVISION OF STEWART-WARNER

2678 N. Crawford Avenue Chicago, Ill inadian Add Alemite Products ( f Canada, Ltd., Bell lle, Ont oo >> The bolts pictured above show the danger point. Th ne on the right differen 7 en th se of good and lubricated with Alemite Chassis Lu ‘ ween 4 lu bad lubricant The one on the left bricar the same way, showed + Replacement of uld cost @ motor car sere from $1.50 to $4.00

was imprope atte 1,400,000 oscillations (equal to 10,000 miles of driving) was worn to the

Reg.U Ss. P CANT

THE COMBINED STRENGTH OF THESE TWO NAMES—REPRESENTING THE LARGEST ACCESSORY MANUFACTURERS IN THE WORLD-—IS YOUR GUARANTEE OF QUALITY

Page 62

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 C From days when the ancients conceived the sun as a chartot of fire sped by steeds of flame, men have dreamed and striven to harness heat to useful power. Companion Invention to the Super-Six Principle turns waste heat to power This new companion invention tothe Super-Six Principle converts heat, heretofore wasted, into useful power. Together they combine the highest efficiency in power generation, and the maximum efficiency in power trans- mission ever achieved within our knowledge. It makes Hudson the most economical car per pound weight in the world. The new Hudson motor delivers a flood of rugged power | EI UDSON i —

Page 63

a a aa —— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 9 Hudson Also Builds 118-Inch Super-Six ¢ In response to the demand of thousands Hudson has added to the line a new Super-Six of 118-inch wheel base, while continuing the 127-inch Super-Six that everyone know In every detail of motor, transmission axles and four-wheel brakes both the 118-inch and 127-inch are identical. Whi shorter it has long car riding ease and roadabilit W hile compact it is roomy. Being lighter, it is more economical It is quicker in traffic, easier to park and nimbler in contr Two body types—the Coach and Standard Sedan are avail- ) able on the 118-inch chassis. Dealers are now showing it. G On the 118-Inch Wheel Base Coach $1175, Sedan *1285 On the 127-Inch Wheel Base Coach $1285, Standard Sedan *1385, Brougham #1575 Seven-Passenger Sedan * 1850, Seven-Passenger Phaeton *1600 All prices f. 0. b. Detroit, plus war excise tax from standing start closely resembling the mighty and elastic power of the steam engine. Yet at all speeds this power is vivacious and instantly answerable to the lightest touch of the throttle. In it are combined all advantages of speed, snap and performance of the high- compression motor, with the smooth flexibility of low- compression type. Spark knock heretofore characteristic of the high-com- Above Sedan Model on 118-Inch Wheel Base pression motor is eliminated. Ordinary gasoline gives the performance results sought through special and higher-priced fuels. By Hudson’s method of vaporizing raw gasoline that enters the combustion chamber, oil dilution is prevented, and heat formerly wasted through the exhaust becomes useful power. In all ways today’s Hudson is the greatest ever produced. And it is natural that its public reception surpasses any- thing in Hudson history. Super Saxe

Page 64

word O7U the Care wes 5 ( \ f this country, today, the woman who does not drive a car and understand its operation is almost as out of date as the hoop-skirt and the bustle. For the automobile has become a necessity in most American homes—and indispensable to the capable women who manage them. Aes. The FLLML of PROTECTION THE SATURDAY EVENING POST to the August 20,1927 To TACTFUL HUSBANDS We suggest that you open the Saturday Evening Post at this page and leave it where your wife can’t help seeing it. Then confi- Jently await results. is sutticient the. family car In shopping, in getting the children to school, in her social activities, the modern woman uses the family car to conserve her time and energy. It is only natural that she should take pride in driving the car well—and caring for it equally well. And thousands of women have learned that motor oil is by far the most impor- tant item in the care of the family car. They are quietly making it a point to see that the car not only has oil but the right kind of oil. The right oil is so important It is a lubricating oil’s job to protect your motor by forming a thin film over all the vital parts. As long as that film remains unbroken, your motor is protect- ed. But scorching heat beats upon unprotected the instant the film breaks, surfaces. And tearing grinding friction attacks raw unguarded metal. The result, sooner or later, is a burned- out bearing, a scored cylinder or a seized piston, a dismal trip to a repair shop and big bills to pay. That is why the responsi- bility of a motor oil is so great. That is why it pays to choose your motor oil with the same care that you choose your car. For years, Tide Water Oil technolo- gists studied and tested not only oils but oil films. Finally in Veedol, they perfected an oil which gives the “film of protection,” thin as tissue, smooth as silk, tough as steel. A film that resists deadly heat and fric- tion. A film that does not fail. > ° 39 Let the “film of protection guar? your motor Car owners all over the world have learned by experience that the “film of protection” means a smoother running car, more power, more mileage and greater freedom from repairs. Wherever you see the orange and blac k Veedol sign you will find a dealer who believes in, and recommends the Veedol “film of protection.” Tell the dealer that you want the crankcase drained and re- filled with the correct Veedol oil for your car. He will be glad to render this service for you. Always ask for Veedot Lubricants by name. If you drive a Ford, ask for Veedol Forzol, the oil that gives eight definite economies in operation. Tide Water Oil Sales Corporation, Eleven Broadway, New York. Branches or warehouses in all principal cities. Copyright 1927 by Tide Water Oi] Sales Corporation

Page 65

| 1 i (Continued from Page 58 station on the corner lit up the struggle ir her face. “‘If you love me that much, I’ll marry you tomorrow ‘*Marry me!”’ he exclaimed. She was so absorbed in what she had just said that she did not notice. **T’ll marry you tomorrow,” she repeated ‘I like you better than anybody in the world and I guess I’ll get to love you the way you want me to.”’ She uttered a single half-broken sob. ‘‘But--I didn’t know this was going to happen. Please let me alone tonight.”’ Jacob didn’t sleep. There was musi from the Ambassador grill till late and a fringe of working girls hung about the car riage entrance waiting for their favorites to come out. Then a long-protracted quarrel between a man and a woman began in the hall outside, moved into the next room and continued as a low two-toned mumble through the intervening door. He went to the window sometime toward three o'clock and stared out into the clear splendor of the California night. Her beauty rested out side on the grass, on the damp, gleaming roofs of the bungalows, all around him, borne up like music on the night. It was ir the room, on the white pillow, it rustled ghostlike in the curtains. His desire recre ated her until she lost all vestiges of the old Jenny, even of the girl who had met him at the train that morning. Silently, as the night hours went by, he molded her over into an image of love—an image that would endure as long as love itself, or even longer—not to perish till he could say, ‘I! never really loved her.’’ Slowly he created it with this and that illusion from his youth, this and that sad old yearning, until she stood before him identical with her old self only by name. Later, when he drifted off into a few hours’ sleep, the image he had made stood near him, lingering in the room, joined in mystic marriage to his heart. Vv = WON'T marry you unless you love me,”’ he said, driving back from the studio. She waited, her hands folded tran- quilly in her lap. ‘‘Do you think I'd want you if you were unhappy and unresponsive, Jenny—knowing all the time you didn’t love me?” ‘I do love you. But not that way.” ‘*What’s ‘that way'?”’ She hesitated, her eyes were far off “You don’t—thrill me, Jake. I don’t know—there have been some men that sort of thrilled me when they touched me, danc- ing or anything. I know it’s crazy, but “i “*Does Raffino thrill you?” “Sort of, but not so much.” ““And I don’t at all?” “*T just feel comfortable and happy with you.” He should have urged her that that was best, but he couldn’t say it, whether it was an old truth or an old lie. ** Anyhow, I told you I'll marry you; per- haps you might thrill me later.” He laughed, stopped suddenly. “If I didn’t thrill you, as you call it, why did you seem to care so much last summer?” “TI don’t know. I guess I was young. You never know how you once felt, do you?” She had become elusive to him, with that elusiveness that gives a hidden significance to the least significant remarks. And with the clumsy tools of jealousy and desire, he was trying to create the spell that is ethereal and delicate as the dust on a moth’s wing. “Listen, Jake,” she said suddenly. *‘ That lawyer my sister had—that Scharnhorst called up the studio this afternoon.” ‘Your sister’s all right,’’ he said ab- sently, and he added: “Soa lot of men thrill you ‘Well, if I’ve felt it with a lot of men, it couldn’t have anything to do with real love, could it?”’ she said hopefully. 3ut vour theory is that love couldn't come without it.” THE SATURDAY ‘I haven't got any theories or anything I just told you how I felt. You know more tn in me.” ‘I don’t know anything at all There was a man waiting in the lower hall of the apartment house. Jenny went up and spoke to him; then, turning back to Jake, said in a low voice: “It’s Scharn- horst. Would you mind waiting downstairs while he talks tome’? He says it won’t take half an hour.” He waited, smoking innumerable ciga- rettes. Ten minutes passed. Then the tele- phone operator beck yned him “Qui k!’’ she said ‘Miss Prince wants you on the tele voice was tense and frightened. “Don’t let Scharnhorst get out,”’ she said “*He’s on the tairs, maybe in the elk vator. Make him come back here Jacob put down the receiver just as the elevator clicked He stood in front of the elevator door, barring the man inside. **Mr. Scharnhorst?” “Yeah.” The face was keen and SUSpI- clous ‘Will you come up to Miss Prince’s apartment again? There’s something she forgot to say. ‘I can see her later.’ He attempted to by the shoul- push past Jacob. Seizing him ders, Jacob shoved him back into the cage, slammed the door and pressed the bi for the eighth floor **I’ll have you arrested for this horst remarked. ‘* Put into jail for assault! Jacob held him firmly by the arms. Up- itt AUt or stairs, Jenny, with panic in her eyes, was holding open her door. After a slight strug- gle, the lawyer went inside. ‘**What is it?”’ demanded Jacob “Tell him, you,’”’ she said. ‘Oh, J he wants twenty thousand dollars!” “What for?” “To get my sister a new tri ‘*But she hasn’t a chance!”’ exclaimed Jacob. He turned to Scharnhorst. ‘* You ought to know she hasn’t a chance.” “There are some technicalities,”’ said the lawyer uneasily—‘“‘things that nobody but an attorney would understand. She’s very unhappy there, and her sister so rich and successful. Mrs. Choynski thought she ought to get another chance.” ““You’ve been up there working on her, heh?” ‘“*She sent for me.” ‘But the blackmail idea was your own. I suppose if Miss Prince doesn’t feel like sup- plying twenty thousand to retain your firm, it’ll come out that she’s the sister of the notorious murderess.”’ Jenny nodded. ‘*That’s what he said “Just a minute!’’ Jacob walked to the phone. ‘‘Western Union, please. Western Union? Please take a telegram.” He gave the name and address of a man high in the political world of New York. ‘‘ Here’s the message: , The convict Choynski threatening her sister, who is a picture actress, with exposure of re- lationship stop Can you arrange it with warden that she be cut off from visitors until I can get East and explain the situation stop Also wire e if two witnesses to an attempted blackmail 1 to disbar a lawye rin New ing scene are er York if charges tead, Van Ty ‘eed from such a quart siggs & Company, or EVENING POST srt 4 ‘ r y } \ ; t { ip ne vA He waited until the clerk ad re egan t the message Now, Mr. Scharnhorst ] i t gi e hard ‘ | said, ‘‘the pursuit of art should not be Ne \ { ey ‘ easure terrupted by such alarms and excu iuffeur whi he remembered Miss Prince, as you se nside ! espectful frisking the bell boy upset. It will show in her work ton “ at t Plaza, the 1 } apse of th and a million people will be just a little d ‘ waiter at the restaurant where the appointed. So we won't ask her for ar ‘ Asi Jacob, he had cont fhin decisions. In fact you and I w eave | He was gentle nsiderate i Angeles on the same train tonight e, as it was natura mt vi ' . H anr promised and ‘ f pete passed la went al it it t t ta “ his useless life, sustained by the know t i or edge that Jenny was coming Fast in the : nner, their corner of fall. By fall there would have been mar ant ired gradu f the theater crow Raffir Ls ne supp t l | t A ! ‘ t t that the thrill of their har ind eye l ‘ ! e, the ps--Was much the same f vere f ‘ equivalent, in a differs “ i «t r ‘ iw affairs at a college house party, the under He looked down at his hands thoughtf a casual summer And if it Nothing has changed with me enn) | was still true that her feeling for him wa r 1 wit! m ear 1 love you less than romantic, then he would take e and yur } ir mind a inyw letting romance me er! } thing riage a so he had alwa hea ‘ App come to many wives before know he whispered Gost I Her letters fascinated ar atfied rr w ! Through the ineptitude of expre ) ‘ W het he there . ni Martins caught gleams of emotion — an ever-present ir fee y toward me, I don’t know. If gratitude, a lor ging to talk to hin ind a A nN me | t! t ou r d tr k, almost frightened reaction toward the other things will come, will be there him, from—he could only imagine —some fore 1 know it--and what 1 calle other man. In August she went or 7 a tt \ eem e to you, because life tion; there were only post cards from some sn't for boys and girls, Jenny, but for me lost desert in Arizona, then for a whil ind womer nothing at all. He was glad of the brea *‘ Jacob,” she whispered, “‘youd thave He had thought over all the things that to tell me I know might have repelled her—of his portentou He raised | eyes for the first time ness, his jealousy, his manifest misery. T} What do you mean— you know time it would be different. He would kee; I get what you mean. Oh, this is terr control of the situation she would at e! Jacob, ten! I want to tell you east admire him again, see in |} the ir te é lon’t say a } Don't comparably dignified and well adjusted life ook at mé Listen, Jacob, | fell in lov Two nights be fore her arrival Jacob went with a mal to see her latest picture in a huge night ‘What?” he asked blankly bound vault on Broadway t was a college ‘I fell in love with somebody. That’s story She walked into it with her hair what I mean about understanding about knotted on the crown of her head m { ~ iar symbol for dowdiness--inspired the ‘You mean you're ove with me hero to a feat of athletic success and faded wb out of it, always subsidiary to him, in the he appalling monosyllable floated be shadow of the cheering stands. But there tween them, danced and vibrated over the was something new in her performanct table ‘No—no—no—no ' for the first time the arresting quality he “Oh, this is awful!”’ she cried. “I fell in had noticed in her voice a year before had love with a man I met on location this sum begun to get over on the screen Every mer. I didn’t mean to—I tried not to, but move she made, every gesture, was poigr first thing I knew there I was in leve and all ant and important Others in the aud the wishing In the world couldn't help it I ence saw it too. He fancied he could t« wrote you and asked you to come, but I this by some change in the quality of their didn’t send the letter, and there I was, breathing, by a reflection of her clear, pre razy about this man and not daring to cise expression in their casual and indiffer peak to him, and bawling myself to sleep ent faces. Reviewers, too, were aware of it, every ht.” though most of them were incapable of ar tor?”’ he heard himself saying in a precise definition of a personality ( Raffi: But his first real consciousness of he Oh, no, no, no! Wait a minute, let me public existence came from the attitude tell you. It went on for three weeks and I of her fellow passengers disembarking honestly wanted to kill myself, Jake. Life from the train. Busy as they were with wasn’t worth while unless I could have him bee friends or baggage, they found time to And one night we got in a car by accident stare at her, to call their friends’ atte alone and he just caught me and made me tion, to repeat her name te him I loved him He knew— he She was radiant A communicative jo couldn't help knowing.” flowed from her and around her, as thoug! “It you,” said Ja ‘O nderstand, Jake! , You u ng You're th Dest pe } e,andd I know it? Y ou’re ng to ma hin Slow e nodded her he I said I'd I e to e | t first and see yu.” \ f ea f ened, the exter { grie ne me nm e apparent to f and he eve filled with te It only mes oO! Jake Ke that That “ t kept ln a I 1 all those weeks I did: nard spe to uu lose it once never Cot Deer in Yellowstone National Park roon [ ompa n, a npreher

Page 66

64 and deep as a song, the first force of the shock passed off. Jacob’s teeth came to- gether again and he struggled to conceal his misery. Mustering his features into an ex- pression of irony, he called for the check. It seemed an hour later they were in a taxi going toward the Plaza Hotel. She clung to him. ‘Oh, Jake, say it’s all you understand! Darling Jake, only friend, say you "ght! Say best friend, my understand!’ 7" yf Cc my Jenny.” His hand patted her back automatically. ‘‘Oh-h-h, Jake, you feel just awful, don’t jurse I do, y reached the hotel. Before they got out Jenny glanced at her face in her vanity mirror and turned up the collar of her fur ipe. In the lobby, Jacob ran into several people and said, “‘Oh, I’m so sorry,” in a waited. Jenny, her face distraught and tearful, stepped in and held out her hand fora small boat-—-a scuttling job —and then use the fish on whatever he passed in the Channel. After that, the gun for the guard ships and trawlers. The horizon was inky with that last cold darkness that comes before the light. Herr Stengel smiled into it and presently, with the first gray light, he saw what he wanted a dark plume close down on the He dove and ran carefully in on his meat. Herr Steinhauer was trembling violently and sweating as he bent over the hart table. Stengel glanced at him, sneered and glued his eyes again to the periscope. Six thousand tons only, but well down with wheat from the Argentine. What luck! No g probably, and no wireless. He ran in closer and growled suddenly for the gun crew. They stumbled past him, reeking with clammy sweat, and swarmed into the forward torpedo room quickly!” He grabbed his megaphone and started up the bridge lad- der as the superstructure broke the waters. No gun and no wireless—a scut- tiling job-—one fish left for the Channel and ix rounds for the guard ships off Heligo- land. His first ship alone. His men should see with what contempt he could handle he situation—Steinhauer, the skulking »ward, should see of what metal the Un- terleutnant Stengel was made. The Herr Commander Stenge!, if you please. And in time perhaps Von Stengel—-who knew? He leaped up the upper ladder and forced the trap. In asecond he was on the bridge, with the gun up and laid and the boarding party waiting on the after deck behind him. He raised the megaphone to his lips and beliowed. to see waters rier yun, Surltace i Triumph! To M’Givney the war came as a matter He looked upon it as a huge joke for four months and couldn’t understand why it lasted longer. He had thrown six Dutchmen into the canal at Nagasaki and that was the end of the matter for M’Giv- If they wanted to fight him, he was for ‘em any time, but as for fighting it wasn’t amusing enough to think Cargoes were heavy and jobs plenti- ful, so he went about his business, churning knots behind him and listening con- tentedly to the song of flashing steel. It was on the City of Skagway between Cape Matapau and Cerigo that he went walking for the first time. He was standing on the fter well deck, wiping his hands with a ip of waste, when the deck left him pre- pitously and without warning. He woke 1 Canea a fortnight afterward, with a { shoulder blade and two aching departed When he 1 rout all he could s seaweed tangled into rusted, broken nery and ir iriiting over twisted than the olf course. ney. re ady them about the lingers. d to thinking, It hurt him more missing THE SATURDAY toward him with the fist clenched help- lessly. ** Jake,”’ she said once more. “Good night, Jenny.” She turned her face to the wire wall of the cage. The gate clanged. “Hold on!” he almost said. ‘‘ Do you re- alize what you’re doing, starting that car like that?”’ He turned and went out the door blindly. “‘T’ve lost her,’’ he whispered to himself, awed and frightened. ‘I’ve lost her!” He walked over Fifty-ninth Street to Columbus Circle and then down Broadway. There were no cigarettes in his pocket—he had left them at the restaurant—so he went into a tobacco store. There was some con- fusion about the change and someone in the store laughed. When he came out he stood for a moment puzzled. Then the heavy tide of realization swept over him and beyond him, leaving him stunned and exhausted. It swept back upon him and over him again. As one re- reads a tragic story with the defiant hope EVENING POST that it will end differently, so he went back to the morning, to the beginning, to the previous year. But the tide came thundering back with the certainty that she was cut off from him forever in a high room at the Plaza Hotel. He walked down Broadway. In great block letters over the porte-cochére of the Capitol Theater five words glittered out into the night: “‘Carl Barbour and Jenny Prince.” The name startled him, as if a passer-by had spoken it. He stopped and stared. Other eyes rose to that sign, people hurried by him and turned in. Jenny Prince. Now that she no longer belonged to him, the name assumed a significance entirely its own. It hung there, cool and impervious, in the night, a challenge, a defiance. Jenny Prince. ““Come and rest upon my loveliness,”’ it said. ‘‘Fulfill your secret dreams in wed- ding me for an hour.” M’GIVNEY’S MUSTACHE (Continued from Page 15) fingers. It hurt him so terribly that he bellowed with rage and got well forthwith. In November of 1917 he was chief on the Tolvane, out of New York for Cardiff, with the finest, smoothest turbines he had ever crooned over. He nursed them and coddled them as if they were flesh of his flesh and blood of his blood. He loved them as he had never loved a woman. They sang him to sleep at night and whispered him awake in the morning. The memory of the Skag- way had faded somewhat in his mind. Ships were wiser now; they carried guns and lashed back at the vipers that struck in the early dawn. M’Givney, on the Tol- vane, laughed at them and dared them to catch him, and shook his fist at the horizon when the stumps of his lost fingers turned pink and throbbed with the cold. The Tolvane went down in thirteen minutes after the first crash broke her back. Her guns fired one lone round apiece into the lowering skies, cracked loose and pitched overside with half their crews still clinging to them. M’Givney never got over it. He blamed the deck for letting it happen. He cursed and swore and pounded the gunwales of his boat. He sat with his head in his hands for hours at a time, his mustache a sodden straggling mat over his mouth. Some secret faith inside him was broken and gone. His soul writhed miserably under the flaying thought of those turbines crusted with polyps and wrapped in rising, glutinous slime. For months he dared not take another job. He wandered about moodily from pub to pub, talking to no one, drinking alone, and crying ever and anon when the mood was on him. Ships were getting fewer and fewer and the ones that were left were full of concrete and held together with red lead. The noose of 1918 was tightening slowly about the throats of nations. When his money was gone he took the first job handy—eight thousand tons of shuffling, clanking junk, with an engine that tried to thrash itself through its own shaft when he forced it te seven knots, and a bottom so foul that no torpedo made could crack the outer crust. He brought it back to Liverpool from Galveston and the concrete dropped in one chunk to the bot- tom of the Mersey, leaving the boat decks awash. After that, he went down the scale two thousand tons further and took a sardine tin to Rio and back again in wheat. A great sourness curdled in his soul. They’d let him through when he had nothing worth while sinking, nothing that could get away from ’em, but they’d sink engines like the Tolvane’s! Well, wheat was wheat and it was one score against 'em anyway. In January the Blue Star offered him the Northern Light, but he shook his head and went out after Argentine wheat in the sardine tin again, because he had nothing in her engine room to lose. For weeks he slept six hours in every forty-eight. He nursed and crooned and polished and riveted and fanned his fires with the blast of his cursing. And again they pulled into Rio and out again, well down in wheat... . M’Givney lay flat on his back with his mouth open and the frayed points of his taustache trembling like the needles of speed indicators as each succeeding snore tore loose from his diaphragm and roared upward and downward in his windpipe. For fifty-six hours he had not slept. A faint bell tinkled below decks, but M’Givney slept on. As the engine reversed he slid abruptly downward in his bunk until his stockinged feet thumped against the baseboard. His mouth snapped shut and his eyes struggled to open. He rolled slightly with the thrust of the ground swell and tried mightily to awaken. A wind- whipped command echoed across the waters and leaped suddenly in at his open dead- light. He was on his feet in the center of his cabin. Racing footsteps pattered on the deck above and there was a protesting creak of ropes in paint-locked blocks. M’Givney, staggering with sleep, thrust his face to the open deadlight and saw a gray hogback swarming with men in round caps and heavy sea boots. He blinked and dove backward into the passageway. As he came out on the well deck his shoulder struck Steinhauer’s chin and knocked him into the next man behind, and both of them sprawled in the scuppers. A pistol cracked at M’Givney’s ear. He bel- lowed with rage and smashed his fists into two pasty faces. With the crooks of his arms he garroted two necks meanwhile he kicked right and left with his bootless feet. Some- one leaped upon his back and tore at his left ear. He swung the man over his head and brought him down on the deck with a loose crack of bone. There was a roar from the waters below, a streak of orange light and a blasting concussion. The deck trembled with the impact of the shell, and the forward hatch buckled and bubbled up- ward into smoky splinters and torn shreds of tarpaulin. M’Givney staggered backward and struck his neck against a brass wheel. He turned it mightily and dragged the noz- zle from the rack underneath. The hose stiffened as he ran with it, and the nozzle strained to tear loose from his great hands. He brought up thumping against the rail. The high-pressure stream struck into the gun crew on the hogback below and tum- bled them overside like tenpins. He shifted the nozzle to the shrieking officer on the U-boat’s bridge rail, and the water caught him squarely in the face. He went over backward, crashed on the tiny deck below like a half-filled sack of grain, and slid August 20,1927 Jenny Prince. It was untrue—she was back at the Plaza Hotel, in love with somebody. But the name, with its bright insistence, rode high upon the night. “*T love my dear public. They are all so sweet to me.” The wave appeared far off, sent up white- caps, rolled toward him with the might of pain, washed over him. ‘‘ Never any more. Never any more.”’ The wave beat upon him, drove him down, pounding with ham- mers of agony on his ears. Proud and im- pervious, the name on high challenged the night. Jenny Prince. She was there! All of her, the best of her—the effort, the power, the triumph, the beauty. Jacob moved forward with a group and bought a ticket at the window. Confused, he stared around the great lobby. Then he saw an entrance and walk- ing in, found himself a place in the fast- throbbing darkness. quietly into the heaving oily sea. More men were swarming up from the hatches, wild- eyed and yelling. As each one stood upright the water struck him and catapulted him overside, until finally no more men came up. For a long time M’Givney played the hose into the open hatches, until one by one the stream caught the covers and slammed them shut with echoing metallic clanks. Smoke was rising in great clouds from the forward hatch of the sardine tin. M’Givney ran to it, dragging the hose with him, and thrust the nozzle into the splintered opening. Then he went back to the six sprawled forms on the deck. One by one he picked the men of the boarding party up, carried them to the rail and heaved them overside as if they wer unclean litter that it was not good to have aboard ship. As the last one splashed flatly below him he dusted his hands to- gether and hoicked up his pants Presently the boats came back in the growing light of day. Saunders was the first one over the rail. ‘’Strewth,” he said. ‘I thought you were in the other boat, Mac.” “‘Naw,” said M’Givney. ‘“‘You got a fire goin’ below decks for’ard. Them lousy baboons soaked us one point-blank an’ she popped in Number 1 Hold, but they didn’t get the engine room. I’m going below to see how much water we’re making.”’ He pulled at his mustache. ‘I wisht one of ’em had been the guy who kicked me to sleep in Hoboken. I wouldn’t ’ve let ’em off so easy.”” He stared at the drifting U-boat. **Ain’t no one climbed back aboard of her yet asI cansee.’’ He shrugged. ‘‘A bath’ll do ’em good. I mind one time in Nagasaki we gave ’em a proper bath. ” The little girl turned her pail upside down and raised it from the patty of damp sand. A big man with a tremendous red mustache smiled at her and tweaked one of her long yellow curls. The little girl tossed her head and caught his great rough hand in both of hers. “Don’t, nunkie; you'll muss my hair.” She was silent for a moment, then she pointed her shovel at a huge bulk of rotting steel further down the sand, and spelled out the liver-pill advertisement blazoned across its rusted side. ‘*What’s that mean, nunkie?”’ The man pulled carefully at his mustache points and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t mean nothing no more, ’cepting that you can have a nice warm supper when we go back.” “Why?” M’Givney looked at the stumps of his two fingers and grinned. ‘But why?” **No reason.” ** Just because.’ Sissie, **Because.”’ He shook his head slowly. ’

Page 67

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Fea ) 2 , ~~ .» for freedom Lucky are they who set tor treedor ina Reo Flying Cloud their desire runs to the s hills, or just a winding road, th in the floating comfort of th that flies. Seemingly inaccessible are open to the powerand rugged? control. Far-off places are dr by the speed they can release. Wherever you are, wherever you wish to go, your pleasure can be multiplied by “sailing” in one of the finest, fastest models of Ame: ica’s Longest Lasting Car. Ask you ] (o] »* ¢ dealer to let you SKIpper onc toda\ , ¢ i REO MOTOR CAR COMPANY Lansing, M an FLYING CLOUD SEDAN Brcromn BROUGHAM SPORT COUPE ROADSTER NO OTHER AMERICAN CAR LASTS AS LONG AS REO~ NOT ONE

Page 68

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE Fordson is delivering economical, reliable power on 600,000 jobs the world over! In first cost, in operation and in upkeep, this enormous battery of Fordsons has set new standards of effi- ciency ... replacing slower and more costly meth- ods and clearing the way for large production. Tens of thousands of these are on industrial jobs . . » for industry has found the Fordson a thor- eughly reliable, compact unit, easily handled and built with the utmost simplicity. Its operation requires little mechanical skill and it is as nearly fool-proof as a piece of machinery can be made. Industry has applied this economical power to an amazing variety of work . . . running mine cars, grading roads, digging excavations, pumping water and air, loading and hauling heavy materials, pulling great trains of trailers over long, difficult hauls, laying pipe, skidding great loads of logs in the timber camps, sweeping streets, pulling trainloads ... on rails... as loco- motive! An almost endless list of applications! The power job is the Fordson job . . . day in and day out . . . year after year . . . speeding August 20, 1927 F.0.B. DETROIT PULLEY & INDUSTRIAL WHEELS EXTRA up production and handling and reducing costs at the same time. Then, too, for such servicing as it may need, the Ford service organization, extending over the entire world, provides complete stocks of parts and trained Fordson mechanics . . . at standard re- pair charges . . . wherever Ford cars and Ford trucks are used and sold. As a user of industrial power, you will appre- ciate the value of the great amount of data that we have acquired on the comparative costs re- ported on these applications as against the old methods. This whole industrial field and undoubtedly contains information covers almost the some very definite figures on the type of work for which you might use Fordson power. Will you write us something of your hauling, loading, lifting or belt power needs and let us cite similar instances where Fordson power has been applied? We shall be glad to include, with- out obligation, the suggestions of our engineers as to the use of a Fordson . . . together with approximate costs.

Page 69

on ——

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Fower...and Production THE production per worker of the United States is higher than that of any other country in the world . . . thirty per cent higher than the unit production per worker of any other nation. It is significant, too, that the United States has, also, the highest horsepower per worker . . . for the productivity of the worker increases in direct ratio to the amount of power placed in his hands. American production costs are lower . . . and our wages and buying power are higher because we have given our workmen powerful, efficient tools with which to bring us that added measure of effi- ciency that means industrial profits . . . and general prosperity. Such a working tool is the Fordson industrial power unit . . . compact, reliable and eco- nomical,. It is, in itself, a striking example of high quality, low cost production by workmen given ample power to produce their work. FORD MOTO R COMPANY INDUSTRIAL POWER- AN All industry is . . . or should be . . . search- ing out the tasks that need the intelligent applica- tion of power, in order to keep abreast of the astonishing march of industrial progress .. . and competition . . . in America. Ordinarily the need is apparent . . . for some phase of every industrial process shows too high a labor cost for the importance of the process itself. Often it is the handling . . . loading and haul- ing of the finished product. Or it may be the mov- ing of raw materials between plants or departments. But wherever labor is employed . . . without power tools . . . there is a power need which, sooner or later, must be filled. Such an applica- tion of power immediately pays added profits through cost reduction. It is, perhaps, significant that over 600,000 Fordsons are placing their quick, practical power in the hands of American labor. ; DETROIT, MICHIGAN ECONOMY

the former methods.

=, “ ;, Si Eat Seas f ®t .d <4, - oY *e,

A husky, compact shovel built Many Fordson locomotives are in The Fordson . .. handling freight around Fordson power. Here it is service throughout the country. quickly and economically for a rail- handling coal at a great saving over This one handles heavy ore trains road. Note the long string of for a mine at Joplin, Missouri.

trailers.

country club.

The Fordson takes an hour off from The Fordson replaces a_ switch | The Fordson at heavy duty hauling. caring for greens and fairways to engine .. . spotting heary tank cars One unit of an interplant trans- run a dirt screener at a famous | without difficulty between | portation system. This compact out- other jobs. fit has a great record of economy.

Page 70

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 : t COUUSL to coast UXURY-LIKING motorists every- where have been quick to note how superiorly the 1928 Chandler models stand out in four different price classes—and quick in awarding Chand- ler the favor and distinction rightfully due any product that makes a better showing than other products of its kind. In fact, the volume of Chandler sales is advancing along at such a rate as to leave no doubt that Chandler has packed into its new Royal Eights and new Sixes inner talents and merits quite in keeping with rare beauty. Chandler has built these new Royal Eights and Sixes /ow to the ground— and powered them to overpower the Fight Called Royal- BECAUSE OF ITS MAGNIFICENCE steepest of hills with ease—to excel in traffic sprints—to maintain top speed, if necessary, hour after hour. And the famous Pikes Peak power principle has been made quieter and smoother than ever! Just put any other eight or six up against a new Royal Eight or a Six by Chandler—and simply make your own comparison of their relative points of merit. We invite you to do this with the promise that no effort will be made to sway or prejudice you. And it’s two to one that you will agree voluntarily that Chandler is the most convincing auto- mobile you ever laid hands on. We proudly ask you to try a drive in one. CHANDLER-CLEVELAND MOTORS CORPORATION, CLEVELAND CHAND ROYAL EIGHTS BIG SIXES SPECIAL SIXES STANDARD SIXES

Page 71

{ { { GET TING Man Handling EARLY all married women sub- scribe to the theory that most men profit by good management wisely administered, and they take it upon them- selves to exercise that influence in such a manner that the other party to the contract rarely suspects what is going on. Business and industrial leaders have, in not a few in- stances, taken a leaf or two from the matri- monial guidebook and applied it to certain problems of man handling with results that have been whole- some. During the World War the activities of a certain Indiana manu- facturing concern were presided over by an executive who had been with the concern more than forty years. He was an ideal ex- ecutive in many re- spects, if there be such an animal. In partic- ular did he have an uncanny skill in han- dling men and getting from them every ounce of effort available. He did not baby men and he did not drive them. He just managed them, and he did it so cleverly that the men never suspected. Therein lies true genius. This factory was swamped with war orders. Production became the all-essential problem, and at the height of the war a serious accident occurred. The main drive shaft on one of the power units of the machine shops developed a serious flaw that made replacement an imperative neces- sity. A replacement shaft had been prepared and was in readiness for this possible emergency. Offhand it looked like a simple job that should take no more than a few hours. Nevertheless, it was an interruption of a production sched- ule, and Washington was keeping the wires hot asking and demanding shipments. Once the drive shaft was dismantled it was discovered that an exceedingly heavy flange attached to it could not be loosened. This flange was needed for installation on the replacement shaft. Years of service on the old shaft had made the flange stick— possibly it was rust or a species of adherence—nevertheless, it stuck stubbornly in spite of frenzied and varied efforts to loosen it. Because of certain peculiarities of construction the flange could not be readily replaced. To make a new one would take at least four days, counting the various difficulties involved. The old drive shaft was dragged out into the court of the plant and ten skilled mechanics were detailed to get that shaft and flange separated as quickly as possible. A Safe Way to Have the Last Word T WAS a terrific and puzzling job. The point was that the flange had to be taken off without injury. The affair started early in the morning. All day long the crew of men labored, stopping at noon only long enough to gulp down some coffee and wolf some sandwiches. The plant super- intendent and the production manager hovered over the job, and no doubt added more to the confusion than they did to the efficiency of a tough job. Meanwhile production in the machine shop was at a standstill. At five, or nearly tive, the plant superintendent broke into the president’s office in a panic. ‘We've got to do something!”’ he complained dejectedly. “That flange just won't let go. Those men are tired out ready to quit. I don’t know asI blame them much. I've tried everything I ever heard of and I’ve coaxed the men and threatened them, and they still swear that when the quitting whistle blows they'll quit. Won't you do some thing?”’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ON IN THE WORLD HOW DO THEY DO IT? The head of the concern puffed wearily on his cigar. He was an old man and these hectic times demanded much of him “I'll try,” he said quietly, and picked up his old felt hat and started for the door. The plant superintendent started to follow him, but the president shook his head. “Stay here!’’ he commanded. alone.” Slowly and almost casually he strolled out of the office and into the court of the plant. The men saw him coming, but he did not go directly to them. Instead he talked toa labor boss and gave some directions about some discarded castings piled inacorner. Out of the corner of his eye he noted that the ten men were in a sorry condition. One of them had a nasty cut from a flying chip of steel that had caught him over the right eye. Another had a bandaged hand. It had been burned by the live steam they had been using in an attempt to expand the flange. One and all they were weary, literally fagged out. They straightened as the president strolled nearer, and one of them advanced to speak to him. The executive glanced at the great shaft and noted that the flange hadn’t moved a fraction of an inch. Then his scornful gaze swept the little group of muscle-weary men. “*Got you whipped, has it?”’ he sneered, and passed on, leaving behind him ten very angry, humiliated and raging workmen. He didn’t return to his office. Instead he went home. At three the next morning the telephone by his bedside rang imperiously. Sleepily he lifted the receiver. Over the wire came a voice, weary, triumphant, defiant, “‘No, it ain’t got us whipped, damn you!”’ And on the other end of the line a receiver clicked on its hook. The president chuckled sleepily. He knew that voice. His wife, alarmed by the telephone, asked for information, and all the satisfaction she got was a sleepy answer that a great moral victory had been won. Two days later the president received, on invitation, a delegation of ten me- chanics in his private office. He grinned at the ten overall- clad gentlemen. “Well, you came through all right!’’ he admitted. “Sup- pose you birds thought I was pretty hard the other day, but you did need jacking up, and the best way I could do it was to get you fighting mad. Here I have on my desk ten important looking envelopes I have been asked to hand you, with the compliments of the company. I suspect if you open the envelopes you will find that each contains a er Liberty Bond. You earned ’em! ‘I’ll play this hand And thus ended that particular experiment in mat nandiing A conference was being he dg by the execu j a certain organization and their assistant lt was the reg ular weekly conference, and an important one he pur chasing agent had the floor and he was autlining. for the information and guidance of al! concerned, a certain met} wi 4 te put int . I It sounded extreme piaus ‘ Hut, as usua \ ‘ I ‘ lent 4 if com r t 4 ur? Ss te t tne nhasing agenc fumbled several times. At last the conference broke upwithouteven taking a vote on the matter After all the men had returned to their ap pointed tasks the presi dent called the office manager into his office **Look here,’ he said quietly “I don’t want to interfere in the least with the routine of this business, but I do want to offer a suggestion. That assistant of yours 1s a keen young man, but he is almost impudent. He's a disturber! He asked Barton so many questions a while ago that Barton got all mixed up. Now Barton is an old man, and a shrewd one too. It just didn’t look right to me for that young fe! low to sit there and almost taunt Barton-—-not dignified. Wouldn't it be a good idea for you to drop a word of advice to that assistant of yours? When I was a youngster they used to tell me that youngsters should be seen and not heard; I suspect that axiom might apply to young assistants.” Putting Gas Under His Skin fora m HE office manager said nothing nute or two “Did you ever watch a cake being mixed up?”’ suddenly. ““Why—why, what has that to do with this matter?’ snorted the president, none too well pleased. “Everything !’’ snapped the office manager sternly. ‘‘In the first place, every cake contains soda or baking powder, either of which tastes very unpleasant. Yet no cook worth her salt would attempt to make a cake without using one of these ingredients. In the process of baking, some sort of chemical reaction takes place—the soda or baking powder gives off gases that cause the mixture to rise and to be come palatable, and when it is all over there isn’t a trace of taste of soda or baking powder in the cake “That assistant of mine is the baking powder or the soda of this organization! I know he is a disturber. [| knew it when I hired him, because he told me so very frankly. He is a human question mark. And I feel tnat he is a sound influence too! “‘Of course Barton got mixed up, fussed and muddled The fact is he couldn't answer the questions fired at him That, to me, is pretty sound evidence that his scheme wasn’t foolproof, and therefore not 100 per cent efficient My assistant had foresight enough to spot the weak points None of us was able to see anything wrong with the scheme. I’m convinced that if the scheme had gone into operation it would have cost us money and it would have taken us months to correct its evils. Right now Barton is . 1 he asked probably feeling much abused and perhaps a little humili ated. But you can bet your bottom dollar that when he presents the revised method it will be foolproof. He won't risk letting that assistant of mine poke holes in it again (Continued on Page 166

Page 72

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 FROM THE BIRIIDGE Mauretania had behaved in her usual splendid aushion for the entire voyage, and on dead reckoning we reached Land’s End exactly at the time figured. It was weather. The fog was so impenetrable that we bridge could barely see beyond the nose of our ship. atmospheric conditions are trying enough far out at is a wide sweep of water to furnish leeway vigation, but the problem becomes acutely intensified a ship approaches land. Every agency of watchfulness rought into action to prevent mishap. In a momentary partial lifting of the fog I suddenly made out the ghostly outline of a ship on the starboard », cutting diagonally across our path. We were slightly ind it was not at all certain she had seen us. was imminent if we both held to the same We quickly altered our course to port and gave two s of the steam whistle to let the other ship know had done, expecting that she would follow the rule t “a and go to starboard. Instead of this she held steady to her course and kept bearing us off, so that we proceeded on a parallel line until the fog finally cut us off and we were lost to each other. Suct ea wnen there sion Irom view The Superstition of the Sea CY'OON afterward I learned by taking further depth \ soundings that this passing ship, which had loomed it of the fog with phantomlike weirdness, had been the medium for informing us of danger ahead. At the time he began bearing us off from our course, the Mauretania was heading directly for Skerries’ Rocks, a treacherous obstruction to navigation in this vicinity It can never at might have happened if this unknown ship told wh had not come as a messenger from Providence to warn us Out of all the vastness of the waters she had n a certain spot at exactly the right moment; other wise she would have been of nohelp. It is something more than uncanny that she was there, her appearance timed to u second lo show what can be accomplished by dead reckoning, close call we continued on our may add that after this Liverpool under full speed, which, in spite of the y weather, was essential to elude a menace even worse fog the German submarine. This is a run of ap- 250 miles to a point off Holyhead, where a sharp turn to the right around that projection into the Irish Sea points the way to the northern English seaport, about seventy miles or so farther on. The first thing we aw after the phantom ship had steered us away from Skerries was the Liverpool Bar ship, which was our objective, roximately (Continued from Page 22) but so close to us by the time we were able to make her out in the heavy mist that I brought the Mauretania up all standing. I mention the incident not with the idea of having it regarded as a brilliant feat of navigation, but merely to illustrate how it is possible for a ship to make rapid headway through the thickest weather by old-time superstition of both land and sea’ the bugbear thirteen —was defied when she sank. Mr. Ballyn, the chief steward of the Berengaria, my present command, was aboard her at the time and escaped in lifeboat Number 13. The story is also told of a stewardess of the Lusitania means of dead reckon- ing. It is such things as these I have in mind when I speak of the ups and downs which come into 2 sailor’s life to en- rich his point of view and to vitalize the human spark of his ship. A house does not become a home until it has been lived in for a long time and its joys have been tempered with its sorrows so that the remembrance of both are seared into the souls of its occupants. A ship isthesame. It takes living in a ship to know it, and a test of its capabili- ties to demonstrate how good a vessel it is. Upon the impressions gathered from this contact, and this only, does the sailor form his opinion of the ship which carries him over the deep sea. Some ships, like some people, are fated to have adventurous careers, while others go through their entire existences in the placid uneventful manner. The Alaunia, well known to thousands of ocean travelers, was one which destiny had marked for a full share of excitement. The Alaunia’s great adventure came when a well-directed torpedo from a U-boat penetrated her skin and went to the bottom. An most and she The Camouflaged ‘*Mauretania’’ During the War A Game of Deck Tennis on the **Leviathan.’’ In OQvai—Capt Sir Arthur H. Rostron, K.B.E., R.D., R.N.R who wore a medallion with the bad-luck numerals inscribed on it and was delivered from the sea in lifeboat Number 13 when that great liner was destroyed by a submarine. I mention these instances of superstition failing, chiefly for the benefit of veteran mariners, who are highly sensitive to the signifi- cance of omens. Whistling is supposed to bring on a gale, while to kill an albatross pro- duces the same result. To catch a shark is good luck and to leave port on Friday bad. Once I left Liverpool on a Friday for a sailing trip around theworld, and several times we were nearly lost at sea. Eventually we barely missed going on the rocks of Beadleston; but whether the superstition of Friday had anything to do with this turbulent voyage I am unprepared to say. The subject may be dismissed by noting merely that superstition is ground into most sailors, particularly those of the old school. To return to the Alaunia. It chanced that I was in command of her when she arrived at Montreal at the time war was declared. The Canadian troops began mobi- lizing at once, but it was not until the Alaunia had again taken passage to England and returned that she joined the convoy of thirty-six ships which had assembled to carry these fighting forces across the Atlantic — the first contingent to leave Canada. Upon her arrival in home waters she was ordered to India with territorial troops to relieve the regular army, which had meanwhile been sent to the French battlefields. We put in at Bombay, dis- charged the soldiers and awaited orders. ;The official word soon came that our next move was to take the families of the regular-army men back to their homes in England, together with 400 or so additional regulars who had been ordered to the front. A Shipload of Women and Children HEN our cabins had been filled we found that we had well on to 1500 children and 800 women aboard, a stoical group which bore up splendidly in the face of the frightful uncertainties of the times. Many of the women were then widows and their children fatherless, though they did not know it. Every dispatch from the front ap- pearing in the local papers was eagerly scanned for some (Continued on Page 735)

Page 73

We’ve been pals for years IT MUST be eighteen years or so since I smoked my first pipe-load of P. A. (When you’re really enjoying yourself, you lose all idea of time.) But I’m sure of this—I smoked some of the first Prince Albert that hit our town. And I’ve never had occasion to change! I’m not long on giving advice, but I would like to get over to some of you younger fellows what a really delightful smoke P. A. is. To my notion, a pipe without P. A. is like a pocketbook with- out money. To me, the word “pipe” suggests ““P. A.” and vice versa. Why, the minute you open the tidy RINGE ALBERT —the © 1927, R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Company, Winston-Salem, N. C THE SATURDAY EVENING POST red tin and breathe that rich, natural fragrance, your mouth waters for a taste of such tobacco. Then you tamp in a load and light up. There’s the big thrill, Fellows! There’s the thing that has held me to this one brand all these years. Cool as “Pull over to the curb!”. Sweet as “I'll let you go this time.” Mild as spring sunshine, with never a bit of national joy smoke! bite or parch, yet with that full tobacco body that rounds out a wonderful smoke. Try some of this long-burning P. A. You'll make no mistake. P. A. is sold everywhere in tidy red tins, pound and half-pound tim hums- lors, and pound crystal- glass humidors with sponge-moistener top. And always with every bit of bite and parch removed by the vag PRINCE. ALBERT rince Albert process. CRIMP. CUT LONG BURNING PIPE AND CIGARETTE. TOBACCO /

Page 74

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 ee Bite rs . ¢ “ if : = You Buy the Liquid But You Use the Zapor

Page 75

SATURDAY EVENING POST + new car demands a Gasoline Many cars of 1926-7, and still more cars of 1927-8, simply cannot give you their best results on old-style gasolines. Why? Because compression ratios are higher and piston speeds are different. A different gasoline with a different way of acting is required if you are to get maximum results. The results you wish for are ease and mastery in the new set of traffic conditions that you face. To get these results, fill up with the new Texaco Gasoline which is designed to meet the new piston speeds and the new and _ higher compressions. Power, pick-up and hill-work are at once improved. Open road time from point to point is cut down. One hundred per cent vapor at the spark!—that is how Texaco, the new and better Gasoline, feeds—and its dryness (*) gives even the oldest cars appreciably better performance. Give your car the benefit today of scientific advancement in fuels. Fill up with Texaco, the Gasoline that forms a dry gas. Buy it wherever you are, at the sign of the Texaco Red Star and Green T. THE TEXAS COMPANY, 17 Battery Place, New York City Texaco Petroleum Products Thee NEWoond BETTER

fig, = Ree ne ery oy Ee a ig os SaaS a & Sect is : >» & AE Se. oa jo ARR SS, cee aS , = ea oa doy in , Sar" 4 ol wn &? “3 ef ea iy | te {Voce — . &» * i . ce oy athe + et seg et Rs < RS ean nes ea ay ot wee

ae

ae Swat pt GASOLINE OMPRESSION | That higher compression POWER you paid for in your ee

designed for it— *TECHNICAL but worth a minute's study!

BHD Not WET But DRY A wet gas is an aton A dry gas, the mew and ized mixture of gaso better Texaco, vaporizes e vapor with liquid completely. It forms ps of raw gasoline iry gas—a perfect mi These drops, separat ture of gasoline vapor ing at every manifold and air, which provides nd, result in uneven an even flow of fuel distribution and flood ar power to every ed cyl lers cyunder You buy the LIQUID but you use the VAPOR

Page 76

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 "A PHOTOGRAPH OF A CLEVELAND, OHIO,HOME, PAINTED WITH 40-40-20 THE GROWING LIST OF AUTHOR- IZED MANUFACTURERS OF 40-40-20 ING BRADLEY VROOMAN CO BREINIG B ) ING SOHN G. BI . COMPANY ‘ ) IN¢ y CO VARNISH CO., ING VARNISH MFG. CO OLUMBIA INDIE-BRAY & PAINT CO. OK NT & \ NISH CO ACH co 40-40-20 The Magic White Paint J' YOU WANT a truly white house like the house in the above photograph—a house that will stay white for years—use 40-40-20, the white paint that does not darken. Its chemical composition insures this. In addition to its brilliant and lasting whiteness 40-40-20 — all the qualities to be expected in a high grade paint. Yet it costs no more. The New Jersey Zinc Company does not manufac- ture 40-40-20 paint. This paint is made by more than 125 paint manufacturers from XX Zinc Oxide and Albalith (the super lithopone) which The New Jersey Zinc Company produces and supplies to these manu- facturers. 40-40-20 is made in ready mixed form in beautiful tints as well as in white, and in paste form for the professional painter's use. Send for the free booklet **‘\Wuen Waite 1s Waite” THE NEW JERSEY ZINC COMPANY 160 FRONT STREET NEW YORK CITY 40:40°20 “ co The Permanently White OUTSIDE PAINT AINT & VARNISH WORKS COMPANY BER ROS Ps Od ee Pe > or et PORTER W. R. PURDUM & SON RASMUSSEN & CO RED SPOT PAINT & VARNISH CO., IN¢ ROCKCOAT PAINT CORPORATION IT J. RONAN CO., ING & COLOR CO., IN SARGENT-GERKF CO COMPANY IN¢ I'TLE PAINT CO SOUTHERN PAINT PRODU IN NT 2 RCHA co IN¢ & COLOR CO INC IN CANADA BRANDRAM-HENDERSON I THE IMPERIAL VARNISH & Col INTERNATIONAL LABORATORII OT t A Ss TAWA PAINT WORKS, LTD RAMSAY & SON CO) ANDERSON PEARCY & CO., LTI These paint manufacturers make genuine 40-40-20 from The New Jersey Zinc Company's specified products according to its specially developed formula and are authorized to use its registered trade mark on Kew Jersey their labels for paint so made

Page 77

(Continued from Page 70 news of the men who had gone on ahead to do their part in stemming the enemy tide then sweeping through the French frontier. It was before the days when the news-gathering forces of government and press had been thoroughly organized, how ever, and the information that trickled own to Bombay was barren of casualty The wives were able to learn simply that haste and more haste was the transcending watchword of the military chiefs at home, and that the units which had already into included some of those had been hurriedly dispatched from India Husbands and fathers who had snatched from the tranquillity of life in the Orient were then in the thick of the fight The element of uncertainty, uncontrol lable though it may be, is yet one of the most phases of warfare. The tense, drawn faces of the women showed the torture they were heroically enduring We whose duty it was to see them delivered safely at home understood that the war would not exact of us a more trying task than this one. Men can stand the suffering of their own sex and, in the way of war, become hardened to it; but not the anguish of women and children, even when they struggle bravely to hide it. The Alaunia’s crew, dominated by this spirit, rose mag- nificently to the Every man uboard ship regarded it as one of the finest lists rone action which been harassing occasion privileges that had ever come to him that he could make personal sacrifices to increase the comfort of these distressed passengers. We who navigated the Alaunia were per too \ pecimen was the unexpected command to plexed by our own uncertainties yet under way. Our impression had beer that we were to remain in Bombay for some and the contrary weeks, tirst thing we knew to the was when instructions came from to set To get ready the military authorities that we were sail within twenty-four hours n this short time required rapid action in laying in the necessary quantity of fresh food supplies—articles such as milk, eggs and fruit which spoil easily and must be taken aboard at the latest possible moment. 4 roundup of the Bombay markets brought results, but we were compelled to leave the next day without having everything aboard we should have liked to have in our store- rooms. If passengers had only of men this shortage would have been trifling, since it would have done them no harm to go on the plainest of rations. But there were nearly 1500 children in our pas- senger list, and there is no arguing with a child’s stomach. our consisted Buying Out the Market Places Our destination was Avonmouth, near Bristol, a thirty-four days’ voyage, as it turned out. By the time we had passed through the Red Sea and entered the Gulf of Suez, bound for the Mediterranean through the Suez Canal, the shadow of the day of all days for children was upon us. Christmas was almost at hand. Watching the eager faces of these youngsters as they played about the decks, listening to their expectant chatter and feeling the buoyancy of their spirits, I knew that the word had gone out among them that it was not long before the bells would ring in the mystic hour at which their patron saint came out of his eerie hiding place to come stealthily down chimneys and through darkened rooms, distributing, as he went on his joy- ous way, the just reward of all children for being good. Our whole ship had caught the nfectious spirit of the holiday season. For the moment the women had torn them- selves from the oppressing pall of un- certainty, to conceal with a veneer of gayety the heaviness of their hearts. The soldiers on board spun Christmas yarns and became children all over again. And the officers and crew of the Alaunia shipped their cheeriest manner in the spontaneous wish to heighten the merriment of these hapless little ones. Christmas Eve found us in Port Said, with a large company of happy children THE SATURDAY

asleep in our cabins, dreaming of the m row, and just about nothing in our store rooms with which to spread the happiness they confidently expected. The one thing we had to be grateful for fact that not still far sea, but had been able to make port before the dawn of Christmas Day Port people knew nothing of and though its shop windows would not be was the we were out at Said, though its Christmas ablaze with tinsel and gifts, as they were at home, a measure of chee A perhaps er ough the day its disappointment could at least contribute to Save from becoming tragic ir We determined to satisfy ourse! score at once.

ves on tl The vigorous raid on the market places of Port Said which took place within the next few hours left the natives wide-eyed amazement. Stewards, fortified with the necessary funds, poured from the Alaunia with instructions to buy up every delectable article of food their eyes fell upon. Above everything else we wanted birds, pastry and sweetmeats, the things which warmth to childish hearts and the sparkle of happiness to their eyes on Christmas Day. Our couriers They did not barter in the usual way over price, but merely asked how much for the mer- chant’s entire stock and bought it. Before long they began returning to ship with the valued purchases. As I watched them clambering aboard with their burdens, | said to myself that no ship had ever re ceived a more welcome supply of foodstuffs bring were energeti

Santa Claus at Port Said It was u rousing Christmas we had aboard the Alaunta in the far-otf harbor of Port Said on this voyage, which had been necessitated by such harrowing circum stances. The patter of little feet sounded on deck before sunrise, and tiny forms fitted here and there in that wonderful Christmas-morning search for the of Santa Claus Mothers, sailors scooped them up in their arms and with loving tenderness distributed the trinkets which had been hastily gathered together. If these were not as elaborate as they might have been, their inadequacy was more than made up for by the pretense of abounding good cheer kept up by the older people throughout the day. And into the bread basket of every waiting toddler was packed an assortment of dainty wor ders which came pouring from the kitchens in a steady stream until the most voracious appetite among them had been appeased. So it might have been much worse Soon after this episode the Alaunia was commissioned as a troopship and toward the close of winter in 1915 left England with 2300 troops of the Fusileer regi- ments—the Royal, the Lancashire and the Irish—on their way to participate in the Near Eastern fighting. Proceeding to the Mediterranean, we put in at Alexandria and then made for Mudros harbor, on the southern coast of the island of Lemnos, in the A2gean Sea, some sixty miles west of the entrance to the Dardanelles. These troops had been chosen as part of the forces which were to make the first Allied landing at Gallipoli, the point of debarking being ap- proximately opposite the scene of Aga- memnon’s ten-year siege of Troy. Landing practice was indulged in for days in advance of the actual sortie to shore. The outline of a landing boat was chalked out on deck and each man was required to familiarize him- self with the position assigned to him. They were also instructed in the use of the rope ladders, down which they would make their descent to the waiting boats when the moment arrived for the concerted landing On the night we left Mudros harbor, which was Saturday, April 24, 1915, as I recall it, every light was extinguished aboard the Alaunia to conceal our move- ments. Breakfast was served in the dark- ness of early morning, the meal consisting of bread and butter, boiled eggs, cold meats, tea, coffee and marmalade. To every man in our crew was allotted a station which he was to take between the hours of three and bounty soldiers and EVENING POST

su 1.M Phe i vy was set ic na past four, immediate alte ou 4 Vai at f rendezvous in the Dardanelle We iy about a quarter of a mile fron snore when the men entered the landing boats and moved off toward the beacl It quickly became apparent to us that they had run into a living hell. The beach had peen trapped with barbed wire in iong tretches in anticipation of just such a su prise attack as our lorces were then ma k Be oming entangled in this craft y cor ceived meshwork, the be were stationa targets for the merciless fire which poured from the rifles of Turkish snipers secure their hiding places along the beact In the early morning light we could see the fright | slaughter from the decks of our ship, but

we were powerless lo give aid, as the enemy marksme! had begur to centrate a fusillade on the Alaunia herself; the shells becoming such a menace that we had to withdraw a Short distance to save ourse t from being one of the most conspicuous of the targets Our only hope was to stand by and take on the wounded men as soon as the los ing tide of battle had been stemmed suff er tly for the reénfor ing troops to bring them aboard It was not until the following afternoon that this happened A | and wounded few of the enemy who had fall arge loaded wit! SICK Kinglish soldic rs and a en in battle alongside then and discharged its mutilated victim came cargo of Thus, in a wift shifting of the scenes, the troopship Alaunia became converted into a hospital ship, but lacking the protection given to ich vessels under the Graeneva Conventior Actually we were a “black carrier,”’ so called because the hull was painted blac arnied ammunition and guns, it wa ach of the international rules of wa! for the enemy to fire upon us, ever though we carried wounded only We carried only one ship doctor and had to borrow a medical officer from another vessel the men brought on board their injuries were classed under three headings—-major, medium and minor. The major cases were turned over to the doctors, the medium to those mem- bers of the crew who had had some medical and surgical training, and the minor to the men next best qualified to handle them Hair mattresses were brought up from the cabins and placéd on the promenade deck for the reception of the wounded, and empty beer and stout case were constructed into makeshift but com fortable cots for the There was an ample supply of surgical instruments, an- tiseptics, bandages, and the like on hand. In fact, the whole atmosphere of the Alaunia had been altered from the moment when the British soldiers had stepped from her decks into the trap set by the wily Turks In the comparatively few intervening hours she had been made over intoa hospital ship and it was in this new réle that she put back to the homeland with her human wreckags before leaving As were more seriously others. A Floating City My chief purpose in describing such in- cidents as these is to show that the calling of the sailor is one which requires more than a fair versatility. Discipline, obedience and training are the three bul- standing back of him to and to get him into any mission to which measure ol warks always

stiffen his backbone action promptly on he might be assigned. It is an part of the sailor’s equipment that he be ready for any emergency, from helping to for a sick baby to sending the last essential

care lifeboat away with those who have intrusted their welfare The modern ocean liner a small, , but more highly organized and more efficiently run. When it puts out to sea it really becomes a float- with its master holding office as its to him at sea is like

self-sustaining community ing city, supreme head, the subordinate officers as department chiefs, the crew as the staff to orders carry out citizens not concerned with governmental and the passengers as

; The pe ting f ’ ‘ { sa @pa t t xz ‘ ilé k 4 Ww Ke a Arnie A engt eC] ‘ ed ¢ tire t ‘ ‘ {) tne irge liners such as the Bereng: Leviathan, Majestic, A nia and othe manned rew we | it ! men, the next in line t apta the taff capta who e step a the niet offices TI eT are tho ly r ed navigators and reas t take r mand of the own s&s wher ne i me Their assistant ‘ l office of the deck departr ‘ ] the ame eventual goa! lhe various funct n he ef t lined The ipta pe e for eve thing that takes place x i yws dow to the safety of the hip en ntenance of discipline and the n t of passenger standing be i@ Mir s execu ‘ officers six or seve num be < the large ships who as t in the navigatior of the vessel and work it the many problems of the bridge. One senior and one junior stand watcn together, four hour yt and eight hours off, and their time is take up in Keeping the nece iry records, seeing that the sl maintaining a ceaseless ip foliows the pre per course Never is the bridge left deserted tfora fraction of a minute Upon the executive officers also falls the espo b \ yr the execution of the captau rae and ‘ trict observance ot d roline Seamen, Working

duty and four hour lale equipment in « at night, keep the lifebo onstant

tain a waten tol

unloading, go aloft when r general handy met 4 boatswain or boat swain’s mate has direct charge of them \ quartermaster is the man who steers the ship, acting under orders from the officer of the watch who patrols the bridge class to where he stands at the wheel \ ] force of six or seven yma le up British ships of former

1) men, USUAL aboard London bobbies, preserves order The lookout me in the crow s nest are selected from the rank and file of able seamen for their keenness of evesight and general alertnes It the custom fi them to work in three watches, two hour on duty and four off, and the ole duty to keep their eyes ope I A ob uction in the vessel’s path and to make instant report of it to the bridge by telephone o the nest and jus —- »-

canvas scree! high enough to enable them to see over it protects them from the cold. In clear weather two men make up the watch; ina fog, when the visibility ometimes better from a lower position, one of them may be +} } ordered to take up his post in the bow and rk with him

an extra lookout assigned to v n the vigil for other shi On the newer sh ; or dangerous ob ps the mast to

structions which the nest is attached is hollow and contains an iron ladde sa means to rea t. The lookouts use binoculars and kee; the br dge informed of their v gilance by repeating the time be ls as the ire str I eve half hou TI inding of the be may also bea £ t it the have sighte } something I nave peer i t times to describe the diversified duti of the sk pper of a arge ocea liner Tha sa difl lit yt and it would involve the elucidation of t« many technical problems to go into de My answer to the question in a general way

is that the scope of his work may be unde stood best if it is borne in m that he is not only concerned with safe navigatio but is also the managing director of a large hotel, the commander of a reg it, the mayor of a city, the arbiter of sox age the judge and jury of a court of moral equity, the boss of a huge mechanical plant the dominie of a church and eternally the court of last resort. His hour: on duty are

Page 78

from port to port, his hours of rest are when he can find them. In 1917 I had charge of the Saxonia. Submarines were at that time sinking on an average of fifty or sixty of the Allied vessels i the commanders of ships which a week, and trespassed into the danger zone were hard put to clear of the projectiles they sent skimming over the surface of the water on their errands of death and destruction. At one of this intensive U-boat activity the menace became so serious that I found my presence required constantly on the k Tosolve the question of how I might be able to do this and still obtain the rest necessary to ward off physical ex- haustion, I had a small hut built on the starboard side of the bridge to use as sleeping quarters. While we were passing through the area of peril I could thus have brief periods of rest, but was within instant call in case of emergency. The officer of the watch is never troubled for fear that he might disturb his chief needlessly. If he has the slightest suspicion that everything is not right he calls him at once. It would be a violation of duty not to do this. When I refer to the captain of an ocean liner as the managing director of a hotel and the boss of a huge manufacturing plant, it is not with any idea of making it appear that he is a Pooh-Bah or that he per- sonally works out the detail of the catering and engine departments. I have in mind merely that as the appointed overseer of everything these are phases of ocean travel which come to his notice in the routine of his work. The chief engineer—one of the highest ranking officers in a ship’s per- onnel—is the man in charge of that de- partment which manufactures nautical miles. From the bridge the captain signals to the engine room the speed desired, but leaves it to the chief engineer how the furnace and boilers and vast mechanical equipment below deck are to be manipu- lated to attain this end. Not being an engineer himself, except in isolated in- stances, he is concerned with the results and not with the means used to gain them. In this respect he neither dictates to the chief of this important department nor interferes with him. see a great deal of what goes on above deck to make navigation safe and fast and comfortable, but it is seldom that they have more than a vague notion of what is taking place below. They know merely that, barring accident, they are constantly on the move from the mo- ment they leave port until they reach their destination, with the propellers churning steadily through the long hours of the ile they themselves are sleeping peacefully in luxuriously appointed cabins. How and why is a bit of a mystery to them. Sometimes they catch glimpses of the chief engineer, perhaps at his table in one of the main dining rooms or possibly when he paces the promenade deck for exercise, but it is hard to reconcile this smart-looking officer in his immaculate uniform with their ideas of grease-oozing machinery and grimy countenances. And yet he or one of his fellow officers is the only concrete evidence most passengers ever have of the existence power, aside from the fact that moke belches from the funnels and the ; the wheels keep stage ridge. Ocean travelers night, while t OI MOLIVE moves. Frew ever see The Modern Power Plant engine of the ing the mechanical » massive liners in Robert Lambert i his force consists room 25 first-class-—8 boiler makers, 5 133 oilers, firemen, and so him elf, of 204 a direct drive to shafts connecting with the four wel il en Nec ° 3 iumbers, n. a total staff nceluding 1, @& LOLA) Le ,», NCiUaing f I urnisn ere being one ahead and one At full speed, knots, the shafts olutions a minute and develop bine to each shaft twenty-three THE SATURDAY a total shaft horse power of 70,000. There are forty-six water-tube boilers, each with five oil-burning furnaces, running from a point under the bridge aft to the break of B deck, which is the promenade. Some idea of the space they take up may be gained from the fact that five laps of B deck con- stitute one statute mile. Five turbo generators supply the power for 15,000 lights scattered throughout the Berengaria, seventy-nine ventilating fan motors, numerous small motors in kitchens and pantries for domestic appliances, ten elevators for passenger use, stateroom heat- ers and refrigerating devices to preserve the ship’s stores. The steering gear by which the rudder is controlled from the bridge is housed on C deck in the stern. The use of oil as fuel has brought radi- cal changes in the system of operation. Originally the Berengaria, which was the German-owned Imperator in her introduc- tion to the sea, burned coal and carried 450 firemen, as against the 133 oilers and firemen who now perform the same duties. On the Berengaria are four stokeholes, opening one upon another, but each so equipped that it could be quickly turned into an air-tight compartment in itself. To enter, you open an air-tight door and step into a small cage, about large enough to accommodate two persons, close the door after you and then open another air-tight door, which is also closed immediately after you make your exit. You find yourself ina clean and orderly furnace room, through which air is constantly being forced by means of a large fan, to provide the neces- sary draft for the furnaces. The air pressure is neither noticeable nor sufficient to do any physical harm to those who remain in it while on watch, consisting of four hours on duty and eight hours off. Economy and Speed A total of 790 tons of fuel oil is burned every twenty-four hours, while the total capacity of the bunkers is 7045 tons, enough to last approximately nine days going at full speed of twenty-three knots. The consumption per mile at this speed is 1.47 tons and for the 3197 miles of the transatlantic voyage 4699.5 tons. At twenty knots the Berengaria’s consumption EVENING POST is 1.39 tons a mile, which would be a total consumption of 4443.8 for the trip across, if that rate were maintained. With one ship proceeding at twenty knots and an- other at twenty-three, the slower would still be 417 miles at sea when the faster had made port, or a difference of approximately twenty hours. A ship which burns oil at the Berengaria rate saves this twenty hours at a cost of 156 tons of fuel oil, or $1950 in terms of money, with oil figured at $12.50 a ton. To bleed her by boosting her low-pressure turbines, an additional speed of perhaps one-half knot could be obtained, but it would be both wasteful and unwarranted, except in a great emergency. Safety Below Decks The Berengaria can be bunkered in four- teen hours and without the slightest evi- dence of dirt. There are four oil stations, each with a capacity of 250 tons an hour and a combined capacity of 1000 tons an hour. Only two of the stations, however, may be used at one time, since one side of the ship is alongside the pier and not acces- sible to the oil lighters. The intake of oil is therefore 500 tons an hour, or the total of 7045 tons in fourteen hours. The water-tank capacity is about 5800 tons-—the English measure of 2240 pounds to the ton being used. Each twenty-four hours a total of 430 tons of fresh water is used aboard ship as follows: For boilers, 240 tons, or 53,760 gallons; for drinking, 45 tons, or 10,080 gallons; for washing, 145 tons, or 32,480 gallons. The remainder of the 5860 tons is used as ballast. The water obtained on the New York side is softer, contains less lime and is better for boiler use, but not so good for drinking purposes. Its purity is themost essential of its quali- ties, the boilers being as exacting in this respect as are the persons who drink it. Evaporators and distillers are kept on board for use in emergencies. These are tested by the British authorities each time before the ship leaves Southampton. There is an unrelenting vigil for fire through the various portions of the engine room, and the crew goes through repeated drills in the handling of the extinguishing apparatus. Hand devices which can be ce 7 Ve @Rdis ‘*How’d You Like to Ride Up in Dat Fish, Bilt?’’ ‘‘Naw! Dat’s Too Much am TE of a Risk. I’ilt Stick to the Good Old Terre Ferma”"’ August 20,1927 used for minor outbreaks are located at convenient points. A still more effective weapon is a chemical fire solution which is pumped by steam power through a hose, while in a great emergency each stokehole can be isolated by closing its air-tight doors and vitiating its air by the operation of steam jets. These are the precautionary measures; the necessity for using them, it is gratifying to say, presents itself at such rare intervals that the element of fire danger aboard a large ocean liner nowadays can be classified as exceedingly remote. Like the menace of icebergs, it has virtually been eliminated, even though the pre- cautionary vigilance against it has never been relaxed. It is through this quarter of the ship, too, where the great safety devices of modern ship construction are to be found. These are the water-tight compartments below the water line, which are a ship’s secondary line of physical defense against destruction by an outside agency, providing for her safety in the event that the impact should be so heavy as to tear through the double skin. The entire lower part of a vessel is split up into such compartments from stem to stern, with the water-tight doors so operated from the bridge that they may be closed by hydraulic power in thirty seconds or less. I am quite sure the thought which naturally arises in connection with these compartments is what happens to those who are entrapped in them when the officer on the bridge closes the doors. Well, they do not go to a martyr’s grave, locked in a tomb from which there is no escape. Lead- ing from every compartment is a ladder which has its outlet above the water line. Each man of the crew knows exactly where it is situated and is free to make his egress from his prison the moment the alarm is given. Entering and leaving port a double force goes on duty in the engine room in order to insure quick response to the signals from the bridge. On the New York side these extra precautions are taken en route to and from Ambrose Light, where the pilot comes aboard to steer the ship through the chan- nels of the Narrows and bay. When a fog is encountered at sea this same control platform, with its many dials and levers, is the scene of the tensest activity. Three extra men are then stationed there, one watch standing at the starting and the other at the reversing levers, in readiness for any emergency order. Three extra men are also put on duty maneuvering the en- gines. The bridge has called for stand-by, and the men remain at their posts until word comes from the bridge relieving them. The Boy on the Burning Deck It is discipline which sends men to their stations aboard ship and keeps them there A great many persons don’t like the word “‘discipline”’ because it brings to mind a dour-visaged person who delights in snap- ping the whip. It would be well to re- member that without discipline ocean liners could not be operated successfully. The red-faced, blustering, roaring sailing skipper of the old days had many faults, it is true, but his insistence on discipline was not one of them. He knew what he was about, and to him the world owes its thanks for the heritage of order and obedience he willed to it. Aboard a steamer which was sinking at sea a few years ago was a ship’s boy—a lad about sixteen—who had been ordered to polish brass. The ship began to settle by the stern. The officers and men on the bridge were, of course, the last to leave. When the water had risen so that it was lapping his feet the ship’s boy was still polishing brass. The captain called to him and demanded to know why he did not take to the lifeboats with the others who were leaving. With humility he replied that he had received no further orders than to polish brass. It is a true story and describes what I mean about discipline better than I could describe it in any other way.

Page 79

THE SATURDAY EVENING *The line attire is the ensemble, latest mandate of mascu- ponsored and achiewed by Wilson Brothers Stvle Com- mittee —a harmonious relation of haberdashery in pattern and color for suits of any shade ut © 1927 Wilson Brothers \ , : harmonize with the ensemble* . . . webbed Out where the blue begins eenat | belts that fit comfortably... shirts and shorts, Wherever you see canvas bellied in the wind the preferred underwear of most sportsmen. you will find sailing folk smartly attired in For yachting or any other occasion, such ai these sea-going togs: correct haberdashery is easier to buy than Shirts, loungy, yet trim as a new jib in a most any other: easier on the purse; easier steady breeze, of Bond Street broadcloth to select, for all are distinguished by a single with slim-pointed collars attached . . . sum- label —Wilson Brothers. mery neckwear so faultlessly fashioned that aes ; Shirts + « Neckwear + « Hosiery + «+ Searfs flapping and cracking cannot twist it askew Handkerchiefs + + Nightwear + + Underwear . socks of white or in a hue and pattern to Belts + + Suspenders «+ Garters +» + Novelties WILSON BROTHERS Haberdashery CHICAGO, NEW YORK, LONDON, PARIS

Page 80

bas Tempting! When summer heat arrests the ippetite you will find refreshing release in a McLAREN REAL CAKECONEwith pureandwhole- some Ice Cream, Baked in modern bakeries from simple ingredients, MCLAREN REAL CAKE CONES are whole- some tothe lastcrispcrumb. A deli- cious way for you and your children to eat “Ice Cream for Health.” Look for the name McLAREN moulded on cones you buy. wate McLAREN CONIDOR Dealers SOLIDATED CONE Dayton, Ohio CORP. ouses in Over 50 Cities ASSOCIATE MEMBER COUNCIL jee CREAM. INDUSTRY THE CSE OF WHOLESOME ICE CREAM fr health THE SATURDAY The contrast, increasing his sense of speed and power, set him thinking vaguely. It was easy enough for a man with a decent engine to swoop up here into these hills, but it was manifestly a slow, sweating business for a team. He whirred past a stone mill, so unmistakably ancient that the figures cut in the capstone above its doorway seemed to understate its age—1810. Just about a hundred years older than Link Danby, born in 1903. A long time, though, before there were motorcycles and a de- cently paved road for them to travel. His thoughts groped vaguely in that past, trying to see things as they had been then. There was no need to speculate about the highways of a hundred years ago—you could see what they’d been like every time you passed a side road, scrambling steeply up or down from the turnpike; ruts in shale or clay; rough going for even a man afoot. And when the first settlers came this way there hadn’t been even those hill paths, of course; they had to climb up here through the woods. Why? Lincoln Danby won- dered. Even nowadays not many people would have faced these grades as he did, on idle impulse. Something desperately ur- gent must have driven those old pioneers up from the level river valley. He looked about him with a lifting curi- osity, to find a hint of what they had been seeking. They must have found it or they wouldn't have stayed to build stone mills and barns and houses and whittle their tilted bits of land out of the forests. It would have been easier to go back downhill than to stay on the terms that they must have paid. It came dimly home to him that there was mystery in this, and his wits wakened to the challenge with something of the pleasure they found when the foreman wanted a tricky lathe job and you had to figure out your own way of going at it. Somewhere ahead there must be an answer. So far, except that it stood on edge, the country wasn’t visibly different from the farming lands along the river. There were the same crops growing in the smaller fields, the same cattle and machines and build- ings; fewer and wider spaced, perhaps, but otherwise identical. The key must be farther on, higher up. He enjoyed the knowledge that he could take the time to find it. There wasn’t any hurry about getting back to work, and he hadn't had a decent lay-off, anyway, for a couple of years. If he liked, he could knock ebout up here for a week or two and move on to Buffalo or Detroit when he was good and ready. Hie found himself unexpectedly at the summit he had almost ceased to look for. There was no chance of another mistake about this. Before him the road plunged steeply down into another valley, shallower by a good many hundred feet than the one behind him, but still deep and wide within a surrounding wall of hills. Far below him he could see spires and roofs in a huddle of shade trees and ribbons of yellow road lead- ing out over the flat floor of the glen and along the farmed hillsides. A deep scar ran along the flank of the opposite hill and he saw a white puff of steam lift from the en- gine of a toy train, long before the minute whispering whistle floated up to him. He shut off his engine and coasted down, queerly expectant. He'd find it here, what- ever it was that had brought men toiling up the cruel grades behind him and held them hill-bound for a hundred years. There must be something—something worth seeing, at least; perhaps even worth staying for. He found no hint of it in the village. It slept in the thin filtered sunlight of the hills, a straggle of houses gathered about a row of stores and a couple of churches, with a new schoolhouse between them. A blacksmith shop behind a gasoline pump was open for business. Danby filled his tank and tried to start conversation with the sullen man who waited on him. Direct questions brought grudged, abbreviated answers: This was EVENING POST ELBOW ROOM (Continued from Page 9 Glenville; the road to the right went up to Union and the other one would get you to Darnell, if you kept on long enough and didn’t mind some rough going on bad grades. What kind of a town? Danby could take a squint at it—this was all there was of it, except the foundry, over yonder by the railroad. Danby went on. There must be some- thing, all the same. People wouldn't have clambered up here without a reason. The word “‘foundry”’ suggested an answer. He jolted over the battered road that led across the valley and came upon a group of square stone buildings beside a dammed stream at the foot of the farther slope. Perhaps twenty houses huddled about the shops, new and cheap and ugly cottages, nakedly shadeless in a weedy field. A clatter of shouting led Danby past the factory to a rudely leveled playground where a game of baseball was in noisy progress. He stopped and watched it, talked a little with one of the onlookers, an older man whose hands identified him as a fellow mechanic. Yeah, they always wanted help; it was an open shop and the pay was under the scale, but you could live cheaper—four- five houses where you could board. The other man watched the game while he an- swered. Danby left him shouting approval of a stolen base. All this was familiar stuff; except for the rim of hills, empty and still and aloof, it was al] very much like the last place where he had worked; nothing here explained why men should bother to climb up into the sky; why, having reached the summits, they should stay here, working for smaller wages. He straddled his machine and started its engine impatiently; the up- roar about the diamond dulled in the thud of. the exhaust. The road struck boldly upward toward the dipping sun. He jolted over railroad tracks in the hillside cut, climbed steeply beside a splashing brook, hidden in the cleft of the wooded gully. Again, overpass- ing a crest, he discovered a shallow high- land valley and something quickened his pulse. He seemed to know that there was, after all, an answer for his question; that he was drawing nearer to it, although the road ran between ruined worm fences and aban- doned pastures already thickly overgrown with young woods; and the house at which he stopped was visibly untenanted, its windows rudely shuttered by nailed boards, its dooryard thigh-deep in weeds. He studied it, however, with a strange secret thrill tingling along his spine. It was built of logs, adz-hewed square and chinked with clay in which he could see gleams of yellow straw. The shingles of its roof, greening with age, were larger and less regular than the machined product of mod- ern mills—hand-split, he guessed, a good many years ago. The huge stone chimney that rose at one gable end had been masoned by hands only crudely skilled. He tested the heavy door and found that it yielded to the thrust of his shoulder. He stood in a wide low room, bare of furnish- ing, floored with broad boards, hewed whitewashed joists supporting its low ceil- ing of planks. There was a queer mysteri- ous smell in the cool air—a smell of aged wood and emptiness, he thought. He ex- plored a pair of smaller rooms, partitioned off one end; a cupboard stairway beside the chimney led up to a raftered loft, lit- tered with cobwebbed broken furniture and a curious contrivance of oak beams and treadles that filled one end. He puzzled over it, his instinct for mechanics waking to interest, but its use evaded him. Frown- ing, he went down the twisted stairs and out to the dooryard. These were apple trees, he guessed, judging by the drift of fallen petals from the bloom far overhead. He'd never known that they grew so tall. These must be fifty or sixty feet, at least, and they’d been here quite a while. The stone-curbed well, a garden space walled in with masoned shale, outbuildings—he August 20,1927 examined everything with 2 mounting sense of bafflement. There was something here something that would answer everything, something hidden, infinitely worth finding He recalled high-colored fiction of buried treasure. Perhaps it was something like that; perhaps what he sought was hidden in a chink between those old logs of the wall or a hollow in the chimney stones. He made a_ half-hearted vaguely ashamed of the artless thought, and finding nothing, came out again to the weedy door yard. The slant of the sun startled him; he’d wasted more time than he’d thought and it would be dark, at a guess, in a couple of hours. His first impulse was to hurry. The road wasn’t any too good, but he’d better try to get to Darnell by nightfall, all the same He jolted over a half mile of washboarded macadam and throttled down abruptly as he neared another house. This one was manifestly inhabited. There were cattle in the fields, a pair of great, clumsy horses drowsing in a fence corner, a wisp of wood smoke rising in the still air from the kitchen chimney of the square- columned house beyond the retaining wal! Again Lincoln Danby felt the stir of a suppressed excitement, as if he had come near to discovery. An impulse that was at once less than rational and more compelled him, half against his will, to turn into the lane that ran between spaced maples to the side of the house. He stopped his engine as a man emerged from the open woodshed, shining pails swung in the bend of his arm, a hint of challenge in the grave glance. Danby surveyed him curiously. He not much older, he concluded, but he was different, somehow. There was something about the lean strength of the work-stained him, clearly and definitely, who had watched the ball game in th shadow of the shops. For an instant Lin coln Danby was aware of an unw spect I search, inquiry of his Was figure distinguished from the mer overalis that lling re something like the way he felt wher the superintendent came through the shop It always annoyed him to feel this; now there was something ridiculous about it “Got off my road,” he said, make his tone jocular and casual I’d stop and see if i here, instead of trying The other man eyes appraising, almost hostile. ‘* Don’t make a practice of it,”’ he said slowly, * I guess we can take you in. Hadn't better tackle that Darnell road in the dark, any how.” ‘“‘That’s I thought. chuckled, still uncomfortably an eagerness to placate. Something about this man disquieted him; he was almost afraid, under that level ““Much obliged to you.” The other nodded. ‘Got said. ‘‘You can wait here when I finish my chores.” Danby discovered a sudden aversion to solitude. He didn’t want to be left alone Even here, in the shadow of the house, wit the smell of the supper fire tingeing the air there was something oppressive and sinisté in these hills. “*Go with you,” he said. thing about it, but maybe I can help.” The farmer shrugged his lean shoulders Danby followed him down to the gate of the pasture, stood clumsily out of the way as he drove the cows toward the barn Danby had never seen anybody milk, and the process, remotely mechanical, inter ested him. He watched for a little and vol! unteered to help. The farmer let him try it; it was clear that he was surprised when Danby managed to send the jets of milk hissing down against the resounding tin. ‘*Done it before,” he said, and Danby trying to “Thought overnight Darnell.”’ narrowed could stay to make hesitated, his but Danby conscious ol what opaque gaze to milk,”’ he Te nd to you “Don’t know a saw that his denials did not at once con vince. He was pleased with himself; the Continued on Page 80

Page 81

SATURDAY EVENING POST Be illing Performance of the Studebaker Big Six HE world records established by a Stude- baker Big Six in its sensational run of 5,000 miles in less than 5,000 minutes simply dramatize the thrilling performance that the owners of this car enjoy. For the Big Six that performed this unparalleled feat—wasa stri@tly Stock enclosed model, fully equipped. In all that terrific going (easily equivalent to 25,000 miles of ordinary driving) the only mechanical repairs necessary were three grease cups and one spark plug—proof positive of the stamina that One-Profit manufacture builds into every Studebaker. No wonder the Big Six outsells the combined total: of all other cars of equal or greater rated horsepower. Below is pictured The President, a Stude- baker Big Six for seven. Its custom beauty and interior luxury are worthy tributes to America’s successful executives. Only 7 American cars equal The President in rated horsepower— and they cost from $4,000 to $10,000. The 1 D T << eae trve color combinations f. o. b. factory President Limousine, with glass-enclosed, leather upholstered or un toph« nneaion between » Equipment, The “Presi and rear; no-draft ventilating tea ! »-Cfrat Watson Static Zasoli

SE ARE ERS ES AEE

Page 82

THE SATURDAY LLEN Parlor: Furnace y With Oldtime Fireside Cheer In this new Parlor Furnace, ALLEN of Nash- ville, stove specialist for a quarter century, has combined the ruddy glow and cheer of the old- fashioned fireside with the efficiency of a modern heating system. ALLEN’S resembles a piece of beautiful period furniture that harmonizes with the finest furnishings. When the outer doors are opened, you have the comfort, cheer and restfulness associated for centuries with the oldtime hearth. This exclusive ALLEN feature is protected by patents. No cellar is required for the ALLEN. It may be placed in a room or hall without installation expense. Heats the whole house by circulating moist, warm air. Burns wood and all other fuels at a saving of 25% to 50%. Thousands giving utmost satisfaction in every section of the country. ¢ ton ‘yy 141 1/4 ° ° a EMAL, “ALLEN S Heat Radiating Fins” Sg In this important new improvement, ALLEN engineers have ingeniously adapted the well- known fin construction to the castings, thereby increasing the radiating surface 100 per cent. This design gives strength and longer life to the furnace and adds greatly to its heating capac- ity with a positive fuel economy. See the ALLEN displayed by your nearest dealer. Inspect the extra heavy, fin type cast- ings. Examine the beautiful, walnut-grained Allenamel finish. Identify the genuine by the name ALLEN’S PARLOR FURNACE. ALLEN MANUFACTURING COMPANY Stove Specialists for a Quarter Century NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE This exclusive Allen construc- tion increases heating surface 100 Alien Mfg. Co., Nashville, Tenn. e 5 ss’ ¥it\ ect Please send ‘Fireside Cheer.”’ ¢ > Send for this 7}, \ FREE Booklet Name Street or R. R City EVENING POST (Continued from Page 78) trick of it came easily, although his hands and forearms ached with the unaccustomed effort. There was something curiously sat- isfying about the sound of the spurting jets. Milk, till now, had been something poured out of a pitcher; he had an agreeable sense of ownership about this; there was a difference, somehow, about things you did for yourself. They carried their pails to the house through a paling sunset. The kitchen win- dows showed dimly yellow and there was a grateful sense of shelter in the warmth of the room itself. Danby grinned under the straight searching glance of the woman who looked from the stove. “Going to stay overnight,’ the farmer explained briefly. ‘‘ Lost his road, he says.” He turned to Danby. ‘“‘Didn’t catch your name.”” Danby told him. ‘‘Mine’s Mc- Naughten,” he said. ‘‘This is my sister. Keeps house for me.” Lincoln Danby’s interest stirred at the one word. He'd taken it for granted that the woman was McNaughten’s wife. The discovery that she was not, quickened the attention with which he regarded her, and | he squared his shoulders, showed his teeth. She wasn’t his kind. His tastes ran to girls | who dressed in bright colors and giggled a | good deal, but something about this woman seemed to challenge and rebuff at once— younger than Link Danby, manifestly, slenderly strong, like her brother, but with a suggestion of spring in her step and some- thing in her look that made Danby think, with a stab of envy, that she knew what she wanted and that she meant to have it. He washed his hands and face in a tin basin and sleeked his wet hair down before the bit of broken mirror hung above it. As always, the processes of the kitchen inter- ested him. He watched McNaughten strain the milk and pour it into a can that had been sunning on the porch. He was more concerned with the girl's swift movements as she set out an extra plate and cup for him and broke more eggs on the edge of the spatting skillet. He was hungrier than he had thought; his food preoccupied him and he ate, at first, in acquiescent silence. Afterward he tried to talk, but it was slow going; neither of the McNaughtens seemed to care for conversation. The man pushed back his chair abruptly, saying something about chores, and went out. The girl, still thrifty with her steps and motions, cleared the table and began to wash the dishes. Lincoln Danby volunteered to dry them for her, and with a sharp side glance of doubt, she let him do it. He tried again to make her talk, and now, without the restraint of her brother's frown- ing distraction, he had better luck. “‘Lonesome?”’ She gave his word an in- tonation that somehow changed its mean- ing for his ear—as if, he thought, he had said something in praise of the empty hill- side where she lived. ‘Yes, it’s pretty lonesome these days.”’ Her voice changed. “Most of the glen people have died off or moved down to the flats. Don and I are all that’s left at this end.” He felt a strange quality in her voice, as if she pitied the people who had moved away—and despised them; as if she were proud of having outstayed them here. ‘Don’t want to get away, yourself?”’ She shook her head. There was a kind of passion in the gesture, for all its restraint, and Danby’s curiosity found a fresh edge. “Sooner live up here, all alone, would you?”’ He was puzzled by the sharpness of her assent. ‘““‘Why? What is there # “Used to it, I guess. I like it, anyway.” He considered. ‘‘There must be some- thing up here, after all, then. I thought so.” Her eyes questioned him. He grinned shyly. ‘‘Just meant Well, all after- noon I been wondering about it—what there was up here that you can’t find down there. Must have been something—some- thing that made people shin up those hills in the first place and made ’em stay when they got to the top. Guess that’s why I kept on climbing. Sort of wanted to find out what it was.” August 20,1927 She shook her head again slowly. “I don’t know. I guess they were just crazy. I guess we’re crazy, Don and I, too, or we’d get out like the rest.”’ He eyed her boldly. ‘Nothing crazy about you, anyhow,” he declared. ‘“There’s bound to be a reason to anything you do.” ‘I wish I knew a reason for staying here then!’’ She with sudden heat. “‘There’s no sense to it! I'd be better off if I went down on the flats and hired out to cook for somebody. I'd get paid for that, anyhow, and I'd get a day off once in a while. “IT wouldn’t have to cook over a wood fire, either, or get water out of a well. I'd get to see people, too—go to picture shows and = She stopped short. Danby waited a little for her to go on, but her lips, pressed flatly tight, seemed to say that she had finished. “If that’s how you feel, why don’t you beat it?’’ He was aware of a vague dis- appointment; she wasn’t so different, after all, from the girls who jollied a fellow into paying for movies and ice-cream cones and rides on roller coasters. ‘‘ Your brother can’t keep you here if you don’t want to stay.” “Don?” She laughed shortly. ‘I’m keeping him here! If it wasn’t for me, he’d have quit long ago. He's got sense enough to know it’s no use to hang on—not even for anybody as smart as he is. If I'd give in, he’d go tomorrow.” *“*Sell the place, eh?”’ She laughed again, more bitterly. ‘I guess nobody could keep him here if there was any chance of selling! Who'd buy? *Most all the glen’s abandoned land right now—get all you want if you're ricl enough and fool enough to pay up the back taxes on it. Get our place, too, one of these days, when we get a little farther behind with our taxes. Sell! I guess Don'd be glad to take a hundred doliars for the whole place—and we've still got some woods on it too.” Danby frowned. His glance moved about the room. Vaguely, it occurred to him that the solid walls, the decent furniture and gear must have cost money; except for its peeling white paint, the house had im- pressed him as substantial—infinitely bet- ter, anyway, than any in which he had ever lived. : ‘““Must have been different a while back,”” he suggested. ‘‘Took money to build this place. Got it off the land, didn’t they?” “‘What little it needed—yes.”’ Her voice changed, warmed. ‘It didn’t cost much in cash. My grandfather built it with timber from his own woods, and I guess he did a lot of the carpenter work himself. He was pretty handy with tools. Likely the neigh- bors helped some—had a bee to raise the frame. It’s tree-nailed. You can see them in the attic. I guess about all they spent money for was lime and glass.” Danby thought of the old house he had explored and spoke of it. The girl’s face lighted. “Yes; that was where the family lived before they moved over here. It was the first house in the glen. Alexander MecNaughten built it when he settled here. That was way back—right after the Revo- lution.” “*More’n a hundred years!"’ Link Danby wagged his head. “‘Must ‘ve had mighty rough going those days, coming up the way I came today.”” He pondered briefly. “What made him do it, d’you suppose? Must ’ve been plenty of good land farther back.” “T wish I knew!"’ She hung up the dish towel and dried her hands, reddened and rough with work, on her apron. ‘‘Some- times I think he was just crazy, like me. And sometimes it seems as if—as if he was looking for something—something he never found till he got here.” “That’s my bet, too!’’ Danby spoke with conviction. ‘The man that built that log house wasn’t crazy, that’s one sure thing. He was after something when he climbed spoke

Page 83

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST AS Leads the World in Motor Car Value 1S gi A July Sales 58% Greater than Biggest Previous July —and August sales will drive far beyond the largest previous August in Nash history. Everywhere unprecedented crowds are thronging Nash salesrooms to view these new Nash models at their new lower prices. They are the finest, fastest, smoothest riding cars Nash ever developed. Their performance in the way of speed and power-smoothness and in lightning-like pick-up is a revelation. In design and finish they are the smart- est looking cars you have ever seen, regardless of price. They are cradled on springs built by a new secret alloy steel process that © give Nash cars a riding luxury you have never known before. If as yet you have not DRIVEN a new Nash, do so at once. It will give you a great new motoring thrill.

Page 84

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘The Choice UoDGE BROTHERS Senior fine G 2. oA CAR whose beauty, appointments and performance have placed it at once in the company of the élite. And yet as rugged to resist wear as cliffs resist o the sea. It was inevitable that this car would come. It was logical that rich experience, vast and & modern plant facilities, and farsighted, pro- gressive management should produce it. Today—wherever quality cars are owned— you will find a growing enthusiasm for this distinguished Six by Dodge Brothers. August 20, 1927 e

Page 85

Continued from Page 80) those hills he hesitated, puz- zled by the words that came unexpectedly to his lips, but going on doggedly to utter them-—‘‘the same as I was when I climbed ‘em this afternoon. And I’m betting that he found what he was after.” She lifted her shoulders wearily. be you'll find it too,” she said. Her voice sounded tight and bitterly tired. “If you do, let me know, will you? I'd like to un- derstand why I’m fool enough to want to stay here.” McNaughten’s heavy step sounded on the plank walk through the woodshed. Link Danby lowered his vcice a little, and spoke quickly. ‘It’s here,’ he said. ‘“‘And I’m going to find it before I go. It’s here.”’ , the same” ““May- mr ONALD McNaughten accepted with- out comment, almost without atten- tion, Link Danby’s breakfast-table an- nouncement of postponed departure. The farmer’s look had changed a little, Danby thought, since last night; the lines about his mouth had drawn deep and tighter, and his eyes were calculating, worried, as if Monday morning had brought with it an increased anxiety. He said almost nothing, and his sister, swiftly efficient at her stove and tavle, was no more inclined to conver- sation. Only when Danby casualiy de- clared that he’d like to stick around for a day or two did her expression change; she glanced at him with a sharpness that was almost suspicion. “All right, if Lucy doesn’t mind.”” Me- Naughten spoke absently. Danby’s eye questioned the girl and she shrugged her shoulders. “Tf you can put up with the way we live,” she said. Danby laughed. ‘Guess I can do that. Looks like high living tome.” He finished his glass of milk, leaned back with a sigh of content. McNaughten, an anxious glance shifting to the sky beyond the open door- way, said something about wishing he didn’t have to drive down with the milk wasting two good_hours of daylight, he called it. © ‘I can do it, I guess,’’ Lucy suggested. “There'll be somebody at the station to un- load the cans for me.” “T’ll go along and do that,’’ said Danby quickly. ‘‘Sort of like to try riding behind horses for a change.” McNaughten’s face cleared briefly. ““Much obliged,” he said. ‘‘Man’s got to be three-four places at once to keep a farm running singlehanded. My father used to have three hired men by the year and ’s many 's eight or ten, haying and harvest. I’m lucky if I get a couple to help me get in my hay.” “Why's that?’’ Danby wasn’t curious; his question was merely an idle courtesy. McNaughten’s face darkened suddenly and his lean, misshapen hands closed. ‘It’s the foundry, that’s all!”’ His voice heated. ‘‘Isn’t enough to suck ali the best men out of the country—they have to come clear up here and start a factory to use up what few there were left. A body'd almost think they were setting out to kill out us farmers. How’s a man going to work his land with wages up to five dollars a day and an eight-hour day too? Easy work on top of that, sitting on a bench watching a machine do it for you, warm in winter and coo! in summer! Man’d be a fool to hire out for farming when he can get a j the foundry instead.” ‘Looks like it, sure enough.’’ Danby was tolerant, almost amused. No sense to get- ting angry because workmen had yugh to choose short hours, light labor and high pay. ‘‘ Thought I'd take a look at that plant myself—fellow down there yes- terday said they needed lathe hands.” McNaughten shrugged impatient shoul- but said nothing. He went out and Danby followed him, looking on while he and hitched them to He had a good eye for such could do it himself, he He helped load the

Db in sense € aers, harnessed the hors¢ the light wagon. processes. He thought, if he had to.

THE SATURDAY milk cans and climbed up to the seat beside Lucy McNaughten with a dim sense of ad- venture, watching backed and turned; her as she skillfully there was a trick about handling horses, the same as about running a motorcycle. He’d know how to do this, too, hereafter. The idea amused him; not much chance of Link Danby ever having to fool around any such job! She held her tongue stubbornly as she drove, at a clumsy pounding trot, down the lane and along the short stretch of level road past the old log house. Danby, re- buffed by curt monosyllables, tried a direct attack. ‘You sore at me for sticking around?” he demanded bluntly. “Just say soif you'd sooner tg ““No.”” Her look relaxed a little. ‘It’s just the same old worry. You'd be worried too if you were working yourself half to death and getting nothing for it. Every time I go down with the milk I get angry. It doesn’t cost us anything in money, but if Don figured on his time, we'd be paying something for the privilege of giving it away. We're pig-headed fools, both of us, to stick at it.”’ “Best milk I ever drank,” said Danby. “Ought to bring a first-rate price, I'd think.” “Ought to!’ She quoted bitterly. “That’s it! Of course it ought to! If you knew how we scrimped and schemed to buy those Guernseys instead of the scrubs we used tokeep! There’snosensetoit! We're fools, but we’re not the only ones. One of these days when our kind’s been starved and sweated off the land, somebody’s going to be hungry—somebody down yonder, where they think milk runs out of a spigot.”’ **Must be too much of it right now,”’ said Danby thoughtfully. ‘“‘That’s what keeps prices down on anything. Ought to quit raising cows for a spell and try something else.”’ “What else? Her voice was wearily impatient. ‘You can’t plant automobiles or radios on a farm—there’s just so many things you can do with land, and come of ’em you've got to do whether they pay or not. We’ve got to keep a cow for our own milk, no matter what the price is, I mean. Might as weil keep a few more, while we're at it. We have to rotate crops, too, or the land’ll wear out, and most of ’em won't pay the cost of raising. It’s all useless, silly, and yet we stick! We're fools! If we had any sense we'd % He shook his head. “No. That’s only how it looks. There’s more to it than that. Like we were saying last night-——there’s something up here, if a fellow could find it. Bound to be.” She guided the horses neatly through a bit of bad road. “It’s queer 3 that. It’s—it’s the way I’ve always felt. No matter how bad things get, I keep feel- ing as if—as if I’d been pretty smart to stay up here and make out to keep alive! I I know what’s wrong. Any- the way you keep saying know better. body with good sense would know we can’t compete any more with better land and better conditions. What chance has Don got, for instance, to raise milk, when there are hundreds of places, miles and miles closer to the cities, where they can do every- thing with machinery that he has to do by hand—exactly the way it was done a thou- sand years ago? I’veseen a big dairy farm down beyond Darnell where they were cut- ting hay in arainstorm and shooting it right up from the knives into a truck—nobody touched a pitchfork to it! They dumped it into a sort of furnace and blew it up into a mow, better cured than even Don can cure hay in the sun! Three or four men were doing fifty times what he can do, and doing it quicker and better! No wonder milk’s cheap!” ‘‘Pay enough for it when you want to drink it,’’ Danby objected. ‘“‘Ten cents a glass, they sting you for it. Makes forty cents a quart, that does.” She laughed. ‘“‘ Yes, and you'll hear fools say that we farmers ought to get all of it, instead of two or three. As if it didn’t cost ever EVENING POST

anything to handle, over and over agair before you buy it over the counter, a hun- dred miles from where it was produce That’s where the n ney goe ost ar profit to everybody ng e Way — part of the cost and a loss is. Because we can't help ourselve we're caught in our own trap! We've gct to raise milk or get off the land ind s we owr nd eve [ we're willing to throw AW farming the only trade we w! Don's past thirty Where's he going t begin again: Wha trade is he going to learn now?” They crossed the railroad tracks : drew up beside the plank platform. Dar lifted out the heavy cans and stood them ir ] ne with others aiready ranged be 1e the dingy statior ‘That’s all.” She erked her head in summons as he waited for formalities of shipment. “‘Come on. I've got to hurry back. Monday’s my wash day.” He hesitated ae 3 ight I'd go down t )

that shop. Might get a » there for a while Again he paused. “Say, would it be all right with you if I boarded out at your place? I'd pay what was right and i ‘Be better sense to board in the towr she said sharply. ‘‘ You'd have to go up and down this h ‘ day and— you've seen how we live.” “The old coffee grinds rdon'’t mind}! He grinned. “It wouldn't be any differ boarding in town, from a job anyw] else,

2ces than they'll pay me here. What I’m after ” He stopped, groping for words to clothe shadowy thing. ‘“‘There’s something up there. I got to find out what it is.” She shook her head slowly and I can get better money a hundred nd an idea he saw only as a vague “*T guess,” she said “TI guess you must be crazy, like Don and me.” He laughed. ‘‘That’s it! just as soon be anyway. pertime.”’ He turned almost gayly to the downhill road. A harried foreman made him queru- lously welcome; it was a dog’s life, he said, trying to make machinists out of a bunch of rubes. Good hands wouldn't work up here in the sticks even if you paid em above the scale instead of under it. His eye slanted shrewdly at Danby. “T ain’t any questions. Guess you'll be safe up here longer’n anywheres too, If you are, I'd See you at sup- asking else.” Danby let him keep the notion. It would be hard, he realized, to explain just what his reasons were. He couldn't explain them even to himself, but something prompted him to whistle cheerfully at his lathe. At noon he bought food at one of the boarding houses and joined in ashort chapter of what seemed to be a serial ball game between the machine shop and the office and shipping room. His mates crowed happily over their rivals. “We got Walter Johnson working for us now! Wait till tonight, you guys!” The plant ran on daylight time. At half- past three, according to the sun, the day's work was done. Danby, under eager pres- sure, pitched nine decisive innings, vaguely puzzled by an unfamiliar want of interest. At bat in ally, at a wide curve, imp:

the eighth he swung, intention- itient to be done

with it so much the sooner. T sun was still high and hot when he struck off toward the hill; it was farther and steeper t! he had imagined; his feet ached long before he came up the lane of ma and grinned at Lucy McNaughten, bare armed ani

flushed, unpinning dry linen from the hed across the dooryard. ‘All set,”” he told her. ‘‘Done work and played a ball game and hoofed it Not so dusty, eh? clotheslines stret a day ’s home. You

finish this. itly friendly. “Guess I « ‘ d. “You Work longer He looked around him rother?”’ She jerked closure half

‘ t g t} keep f the san there et i er tne issue He \ i gat é atting astring bet n wo stakes, lifted a

1 with u i He traighntened delibe el) ; What you afte ; Danby spread his hands. “ Darned if I Vv, myse I sand miles uj; t i, when y »doitontne! ! but it don’t seem to ‘ Kind of make t ali the be ome W (;uess you! $ ter’s right ye | razy McNaug ) i not relax Si ' he vy ey,”’ he said wily iW t es, around the house I got t< t :tosay: Don’t you get flat-country notions about her ' we ain t your Kind 1 if k so?” Danby'’s voice sounded Why? What makes you think I i ent McNaught shook his head slowly “We been up here all our lives,”’ he said “Our stock’s been here for a hundred years d more before us, and I guess they were ; when they came here. It ain't ever been easy to stay alive up here; the t one: get culled out pretty quick. We're ‘ left, Lucey and me. Look crazy to

yu, maybe, but we ain't “No,” said Danby. ‘You're not crazy or else I am too. Because I’m staying here anyway Ilere’s where I belor ¥ McNaughten surveyed him deliberately “If that’s so, you're out of Juck,”” he said ““It costs someth You'll find that Danby squatted bes start in to pay plant these beans? and I'll go ahead with it while you go milk.” McNaughten showed him how to put the broad, flat beans on edge in the powdery loam; Danby finished the row and marked off another, whistling under his breath; he was still at it, engrossed and contented when Lucy’s clear voice came through the sunset glow, calling him in to supper. ing — belonging in the hill ut, come snow-fly him. ‘‘ Guess I'll How Show me, right now do you iv SHORT, fierce summer flamed up and burned itself as abruptiy to an early glow of autumn embers. Lincoln Danby felt the haste of it with a kind of infection the blaze of the harvest fields whispered to him: Hurry, hurry citement, something He had a sense of ex- like the tightening of when, with men on the hitter near the end is was better, he de- cided; you were playing here a ids and for a bigger st cick, he told hims in outwitting and the heights than in game he'd ever played. The men in the shop bothered him a good stead of spendi " d behine nerves he knew bases, he faced a likely » . one oI some close game. it ¢ there was more the any other ‘ ] : weather deal because, i ng the after- the foundry, he hurried off to his motorcycle and sent it scudding up the | ill He found, though, a secret in their attitude; they didn’t t they missing, fool- g around with a bat and ball, when they noons on the diamor } + amusement know wha were

might be playing the game he pl ayed, up there beyond the rim of hill He le | rd ae rom Don Me- Naughte t t mer: he nad a i ( t that served him better than McNaughten’s occa il instructior He could miil the giar { ir if nO A f d out t HUNG a aN na the wag ra } } V l ¢ ove tne { na! head » the i wwiy, however, as he weated ul the mounta n, he d covered ce nat y attitua toward thet VM nt I ed It was pure tul or u e, t VOrK ll the garden, stirring the « | t grow- ing things t Ww present er W Continued on Page 86

Page 86

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Most Active Stx in its Price Class \ modern car for modern conditions—and the lowest-priced Six with 4-w heel brakes. For liv ‘ss — pickup, speed, power—there’s nothing like the Whippet Six at the price. Easier to drive and easier to park. Its color tones are harmo- nious and the interior is luxuriously upholstered and appointed. Watch it on hills; test it in traffic; study its lines, its proportions and its equipment—then make your own comparison with other cars. Exceptional power in proportion to weight, with a wide range of flexibility. Great economy— Saves on gasoline, oil, tires and upkeep. Throttle it down to ¢ miles an hour and it accel- erates to 25 from 10°% to 23% faster than its nearest competitors. August 20,1927 Lower center o cling to the roa Full vision boc eliminate the ©! Full-pressure expensive Cars. Easier steering the Whippet Sir Plus these feat Adjustable steer

Page 87

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘ WHIPPET Six ) hy “f gravity makes the Whippet Six HY at all speeds } y }y—with narrow front pillars that 2) }lind spot” hazard. {ubrication —as on the most Vg Roller pivot bearings help make unusually easy to handle. ’ " a ures — Oversize tires; Snubbers; | out! sien Pr a+ Ohi W illys-Overland ing wheel.

Page 88

Continued from Page 83 food; on rainy afternoons he whistled hap- n the woodshed as the neat pile of ind him. It was only when he followed a hand cultivator be- een endless rows of corn that the thing became work instead of sport; only when he helped McNat ighten cut and shock k and haul end mow load after load of wheat; in the side car he had contrived ‘ d down the milk to » mornings, that he found mself sharing McNaughten’s discontent, iis embittered feeling justice, of futility and split sticks rose be only when, r the purpose, he ned to agree wit! j s {e drifted easily into the routine of the 1, mysteriously, to ig, up the twisting stairs to hay mattress as soon as the chores were ie an supper dishes put away, to wake at sunrise and, before it was time to tart for the shop, to have done a good our’s work in woodshed or cow stable. It seemed as if the Link Danby who had found the evenings long and dull down yonder, who had played cards or pool on wet after- noons, sat through mushy movies after supper, killed his Sundays on aimless motorcycle journeys, must have been some- body else. He puzzled over this; sometimes discussed it with Luey. t'sfunny. You don’t seem to get bored up here.” ‘You don’t get time,” she told him. There’s always more to do than you can tend to, if you're going to stay alive.” ‘We're doing that, anyhow.”” He chuck- led. ‘‘ Never lived so high as I been doing all summer.” Her face changed. ‘“‘ That’s your own do- ing, mostly,” she said. “I’ve been think- ing. We haven't got any right to charge you board. You’re earning more than your keep. We ought to pay you wages.” ‘“Shucks!"’ He grinned uneasily. ‘I only after hours for the fun of it. Sooner do it than play ball or shoot craps. Wouldn't feel right if I didn’t pay my way.” “We aren’t going to take your money any more, just the same,” she said. ‘“‘ Don and I talked it over. We’ve never managed to have a decent garden till this summer. You've just about fed all three of us, be- ides what you’ve done on the farm, help- And we've paid up the back taxes on the money we've got from you.”’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘‘ We're in first-rate shape for winter, this year—better than we've been since I can remember.’ “Have enough potatoes to carry us through to spring, anyway,” he said. ‘They’re doing fine. And it looks like there'd be a pile of apples—those russets have got to be propped up some more.” He hesitated. ‘“‘Funny, what a kick I get out of it saving up stuff to eat, instead of just putting money in a bank. Different, some- way raising your own keep instead of just paying for it He frowned. ‘‘That’s all that I like about it, I guess—the rest of it | don’t know why, but it kind cf makes me re, someway, sweating out there in the in to make a lot of wheat for somebody se somebody sitting pretty behind a k somewheres. Like to milk when I’m ing to drink it myself, but it gives me a to do it for the other guy.” That’s farming.”” MeNaughten had pproached unheard. His voice grated. Work yourself to death so somebody else household. it suited hin fool around te ing Don. eat without moving a finger, and then d with your hat off and beg him to uu half what it costs you! Look at it don’t much We're d g first-rate, though,” Lucy pread his hands. ‘“‘And ve got a hired man working irge wages All we mmer comes right down If i'd paid Link what he’s been l deeper in the hole than ever.” cnow it ther aid 1 ‘I’m satisfied. Got neal ill | made saved up. Never f i I since I started THE SATURDAY working. Funny, too, when you come to think it over.” ““You haven't had a chance tospend any- thing, that’s all,” Lucy suggested. ‘‘I don’t see what's funny about it.” “It’s queer, all the same.’’ He fumbled through a blurry thought. ‘“‘Here’s the three of us living off the same place where the two of you could hardly stay alive, and living pretty high, too. You got your taxes paid and money put by, and I got more saved up than I ever had before. Has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it? Looks to meas if it had to come out of the ground.” McNaughten shook his head. ‘It didn’t. Lost money, any way you figure it, on everything we've raised, if we charge any- thing for your time and mine. Only reason we’re ahead is the money you made down in the shop and the piece of it you paid us for your keep.” “No. It can’t be that, either. Made a lot better money every other place I’ve worked, and never managed to save any of it till I came up here. I’m ahead of the game; you can’t get away from that. And you are too.”” His tone quickened. ‘I got a notion we’re getting somewheres near the answer, Don! We ve struck something, we have! If we keep on this way, the three of us, we won’t just stay alive—we’ll get more and more ahead of the game, every year we play it.” “You'd lose,” said Lucy quickly. ‘“‘You're bringing in most of the money and doing a lot of the work besides. If you put in your time at the shops instead of up here, you’d get overtime wages—a whole lot more than it costs to feed you. Don and I are just sponging on you.” “Don’t make me laugh. Sponging—the way you work! I suppose it’s a great favor for me to let you wash my clothes and cook my meals and make up my bed! I sup- pose “‘T’m paid for it, I mean.”’ He saw that her mouth was set. ‘‘ You pay for it twice over—once in cash and once—more than once, I guess—in work. That’s all there is to it.” He saw the force of her reasoning and could find no flaw in it, but he knew, some- how, that she was wrong. A queer, secret exultation was in him, a sense of discovery, triumph. Words didn’t matter; facts were all that counted, and no matter how you split hairs about this, they were prospering, all three—prospering as none of them had ever done before. Farm conditions hadn't changed for the better; according to Don MecNaughten’s figures they were worse than ever, and yet “It’s what I came up here to find,” he said slowly. “‘And I’m getting mighty close to finding it. There was something they were after— those people that came up here to settle. They must ‘ve found it or they’d have moved out; it’s here, the same as it was then. Don’t know what it is, but we're mighty near to finding it, and it’s worth finding too.” Don McNaughten stretched his lean arms. ‘Let’s go milk,” he said. A shadow slid across Link Danby’s mood at the words. More and more, as the winter drew in, he was coming to detest the daily inevitability of the milking; they had to fork down hay now for the insatiable jaws of the placid milk machines in the tester 4 hay they had cut and cured and hauled and mowed at a price in sweat and weariness for every blade. He had learned to share Me- Naughten’s attitude toward the far-away people who would drink the milk he carried down to the railroad— people who did noth- ing to produce it, who got it, somehow, for less than it cost; who weren't even grateful for it. But when, as they sat in the dusk of the cow stable, McNaughten said ie rho . 7 eS EVENING POST something to this same effect, Danby sud- denly remembered that he had always been one of those people himself. “They don’t get it for any three cents,” he said. ‘‘Pay twenty cents a quart for it down yonder, if you want to drink milk or feed it to your kids.” “Somebody gets the difference, just the same. We don’t, that’s sure.” “Don’t notice anybody getting rich out of it, at that,” said Danby. He remem- bered early-morning visions of milk wagons in city streets; the men who drove them had never stirred his envy. The thought lingered in his mind as he ate his supper un- der the glass lamp; it followed him up to his bed and was still at the back of his brain when he came down again to his Sunday breakfast. He drank a glass of milk with a new realization of its value. It was worth ten cents, that tumblerful, if you bought it in a city restaurant; here it was worth less than a penny, but it was the same milk, the same quantity; a man got the same food value out of it, didn’t he? At the table, Link Danby was a consumer, getting a ten-cent drink for a penny; when he went out, presently, to milk, he’d be a producer, on the wrong end of the bargain. He scowled. A fool’s business, clearly. And yet, if you looked at it the other way, wasn’t he getting the top price for that glass of milk, after all? It did him as much good, didn’t it, as if he’d bought it at a counter? He tried to think it out as he helped Don McNaughten with the Sunday chores, ex- actly like those of other mornings, except that a vaguely agreeable sense of leisure lightened them. There was something in this notion; if you sold yourself milk that cost you a penny, you got exactly what the city man got for a dime, didn’t you? Either you got a nine-cent profit, therefore, as a producer, or, asa consumer, bought a dime’s worth of food for a penny. No two ways about that. Nobody else was in on the deal, anyway. It was the same, he realized, with the vegetables he carried in from the truck patch to the farmhouse kitchen, with the firewood that cooked them, that fed the sheet-iron stoves against the nipping chill of the hill autumn. You put some spare time into those things—- minutes that other- wise you'd kill at baseball or, now that it was getting too cold for that, at Kelly pool or dice or the boarding-house poker game. And instead of costing you money, they paid you a profit. You couldn’t get away from that, whichever way you looked at it. Here, he saw with sudden clearness, was the explanation of his own mysterious pros- perity. Instead of spending his wages on devices to waste his leisure, he’d saved the cost of his amusements and turned the lei- sure into an extra, overtime wage; it had been fun, too—better fun than any other game he'd ever tried. And, as for Don and Lucy McNaughten, merely by having a cash customer on the spot for a little of what they produced, they'd got out of debt and were ahead of the game. There was no service this Sunday at the little wooden church across the glen to which, without quite knowing why, he gen- erally went with Don and Lucy on the al- ternate Sundays when the minister drove over from East Sparta. As the sun climbed the air mellowed; the keen smells of fall drew him away from the house through the young woods that had spread over the aban- doned pasture lands; dry leaves rustled underfoot; he filled his pockets with shell- bark hickory nuts and made a mental note of the trees where they lay thickest; might come back this afternoon with a grain sack and lay in a stock for winter; get some black walnuts, too, and some of those + tk ae a Mr ef won at August 20,1927 queer, long, pointed butternuts from the tree down by the creek. Again he felt the sense of a profit; this was playtime; here, instead of digging into your pocket to be- guile it, you could turn it into food. The thought extended to the rabbits that bounded away before him, the big gray squirrels that chattered at him angrily from the hickory branches. Good fun to hunt them one of these days, and a profit, on the side, for every one you brought home to eat. The young overgrowth was thick about him; here and there it was hard to force a path through the crowding stems; he was puzzled by a vague sense of satisfaction in lusty vigor of the thicket. Don said this land had been cleared meadow fifteen years ago; it was almost a woods now; give it another twenty years and there’d be a raft of salable stuff; second-growth hickory was getting mighty scarce, with everybody in the world going crazy over golf. He chuckled at the thought; another game, a way of killing spare time, for people who hadn’t anything better to do. Hurry home from work and grab a bag of sticks and walk five or six miles, whacking away at a pill—working as hard as you’d work in a garden, paying a caddy and a greens fee! Call it exercise, tell yourself you did it to keep healthy! He flexed his arm and felt the muscles swell into steely lumps under his fingers. He stumbled out, at last, into the clear- ing about old Alexander McNaughten’s log house. It faced him, he thought, with a sort of secret fellowship; it was like an old man, sitting in the sun, smiling over knowl- edge bought in exchange for years, at some- body who still had those years to spend in learning. He had a feeling that old Alexan- der himself was here in the still, autumn- smelling morning; the old man who had left the fat fields and neighborly stone houses beside the river and dragged his an- cient body into these high, barren hills. And between them, somehow, there was a kin- ship that went deeper than a bond of blood. Danby pushed open the door. He'd like to live here, he thought vaguely, if he ever had a home of his own. It would be easy to tinker the house into shape—do it himself in his spare time. A few panes of glass and a bit of plastering, some new floor boards here and there, and it would be as good as when old Alexander lived in it. The idea took hold of him with a sudden power; Don McNaughten had told him that the place was for sale for its back taxes. A few hun- dred dollars would buy it, with the over- grown hillside fields that went with it, the ancient Indian clearing of flatlands that stretched away to the fringe of willows along the creek. He went over it, room by room, with the attitude of an owner. Climbing to the loft he puzzled again over the oak beams and treadles that blocked one end of the raft- ered space. It must have been something pretty important, this contraption, or they’d never have put all that patient, accurate handwork into its making; his machinist’s instinct guessed dimly at its operation; you pressed these things with your feet and they lifted those frames; you pushed this jigger forward; some sort of a wheel must slide back and forth in this grooved track. But he could not under- stand what they had made on it. He was still wondering when he heard a step on the loosened floor below him. The sound startled and annoyed him; he already felt as if the house belonged to him. He went quickly to the stair and leaned down. Lucy McNaughten stood in the middle of the old kitchen; something in her face sent a strange shivering tingle along his spine. He called to her softly, as if a secret lay between them; her eyes lifted, un- frightened, to where he stood. ‘Come on up,” ” called, ‘“‘and tell me what this thing up here was for. Been try- ing to make it out.” ““What? The old loom?” She came de- liberately to the stairs. ‘“‘ That’s where they made all the cloth they used in the old days.”’ She stood beside him. “I’ve got Continued on Page &8& ~~

Page 89

VERYBODY knows the Valspar boiling water test, which never vet has dam- aged a Valsparred floor or table-top. Here is the same test on a newly Valsparred car. Kettles of boiling water mixed with alcohol were poured right on the hood of a brand- new finish. Harsher treatment than a car usually gets, even when the radiator boils over. The crowd gaped in amazement. What a test! But the Valspar finish remained unscarred, undimmed—its lustrous beauty triumphant. Yes, it takes Valspar to withstand such punishment and to resist the daily grind of sun, rain, snow, mud and washing. Knowl- The Famous Boiling Water Test— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST alspar edge of this fact, plus the pride taken in owning a car done in the smartest colors, accounts for the widespread use of Valspar in refinishing cars today A Valspar Finish for less than $5 You can apply Valspar yourself, in any of the attractive colors shown in the panel, for less than $5, brushes included. Valspar comes in all the latest colors as well as in Black, White and Clear Varnish. You can mix any two or more of these colors to get an endless variety of beautiful shades and tints. Use coupon for money-sav ing samples and for free booklet giv instructions how ing full to refinish your own car. _.- De YELLOW VALSPAR MEDIUM GREEN VALSPAR > 3 DEEP RED VALSPAR Sor VERMILION VALSPAR airs BROWN VALSPAR @x— fs)' IVORY VALSPAR DEEP BLUE VALSPAR oar; LIGHT BLUE VALSPAR “GRAY VALSPAR ‘& a MEDIUM BLUE VALSPAR ‘8 ORANGE VALSPAR DEEP GREEN VALSPAR LIGHT RED VALSPAR \\The Varnish That Won't Turn White ected CLEAR AND IN COLORS l enclose dealer Snamea can of colors specified at Clear and in Colors, suppl } VALENTINE & COMPANY, nd stamps—20¢ right. Only thre sar 1 at this spec for each iS¢ sample ra Valspar, 160 Fourth Ave., New York

Page 90

Ie YOURE A SKEPTIC This is just what YOU want DO THIS Write us for your 7 FREI iE difference between making claims ind making converts is the real dif cool shaves. in INGRAM’S SHAVING CREAM. Lather one side of your face with your lr is a difference you can FEEI the wsval shaving preparation lather the tat lather before your razor othersidewiththeanusual INGRAM'S The is not a scent— Then shave. The sidewith INGRAM’ will liftference give you the coolest, smoothest shave you NGRAM’'S ts more , ! ever had. You will side shaving cream , ‘hs with INGRAM’'S ever It ther and lotion in , after. You'll spread one. | 1d soothes , ' INGRAM lather with a ( or one midi smile and spread the p ) “aa ‘ news among your friends i iC € . . rin J 5 i 2 8 that you've founda shav- ra ‘Med ; ; \ 9 s00! & nor oe : Je n men having creé ; ing cream at last that’s ive ith really DIFFERENT ( \{ i Write us today tor your 7 Free cool shaves TTi¢ , } Your skin will thank you : Or to save yourself time ask yournearest druggist for SET To Rerene PERS 10 of these cool INGRAM ‘ 619,512 Jars mm 1926 shaves. The jar costs only CGromg even hetter nox hitty cents /) grams Shaving Cream COOLS and SOOTHES as you shave Detroit, Mich Ingram Ce Fst. 1885 655 Tenth St also Windsor, Canada THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 86 some of the linen yet that my great-grand- mother wove on this thing; she made the bedspread in the spare room on it too.” “What do you know about that!’” He wagged his head. ‘‘ Had to make their own cloth, did they?”’ “‘T guess they had to make about every- thing,”’ she said, ‘“‘or do without. They lived here a good many years before there was much of a road over the hills, and the nearest store was down at Arkville—forty miles. I often wonder where they got the time—the women, I mean. They had to do everything that I do and all these things besides—spinning and weaving and knit- ting, boiling soap, making candles, and of course they had to cure their meat and dry their vegetables for winter. They je ‘‘And what did the men do, I wonder.”’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘‘ Farmed, I sup- pose. There’s nothing else they could have done. And it couldn’t have been easy either. They had to do most of it with their own hands.” He pondered. ‘‘What did they do with what they raised, then? If there wasn’t any road, who bought their crops and how did they ship their milk?” “They didn’t, I guess. They just farmed for their food. Raised their own wool and flax for clothes, cured their hides for leather—my grandmother could remember when a tramp cobbler used to make all the shoes for everybody once a year. That was before they even had the canal.” “‘ And they stayed alive, doing that.”’ He thought about it. ‘They stayed alive and raised their children and built new houses for ’em and paid for their schooling and and—what’s wrong with a place that would do that? What’s happened since? Why can’t people do it now, Lucy?” She shrugged her straight shoulders. ‘I suppose they could. We're doing it, aren’t we? Of course the farm doesn’t pay, but it keeps us.” “T’ll say it does!” Excitement warmed his voice. “It’s doing a whole lot more than that! It’s making usrich! I knew it! I knew there was something here! Lucy, I’m going to buy in this place, soon as I can fix it up with the sheriff to have it sold. I’m going to live in it. I can work down at the shop, the same as now, and get pretty near all my living out of the land in my spare time, the same as I been doing. I can pay the taxes and never lay a finger to the land just let the trees grow for me. Millions of ’em doing it right now, growing every minute.”’ He spread his hands eagerly. ‘Saved over two hundred dollars this summer, be- sides what I paid you for board. Money’ll grow by itself, the same as a tree, if you give it time. Ten years from now I'll be better off than Lou MeCarthy that the shop!” owns She said nothing; he saw a sudden wist- fulness in her eyes. ACE HATRED Ste) August 20, 1927 “And you and Don can do it too,” he cried. ‘‘He’s twice as handy with tools as most of the men down at the shop. I could get him a job there in a minute, and he can raise his own food a sight easier than I can, with what he knows about that end of it. I knew all the time there was something up here, just waiting for me; it’s right here waiting for him, too, and for you, and for anybody with the sense to see it!’’ He flung out his hand toward the hill that hid the town. ‘‘They’re fools, that’s all! Any one of ’em could do what we been doing. It don’t pay, maybe, to farm for other folks, but it’ll always pay to farm for yourself. Only two ways to it: If you raise milk to sell you got to take the bottom price for it. But if you drink it yourself you’re getting all anybody can get, aren’t you—either buying cheap or selling dear, or both. You can’t lose, either way! And it’s the same with everything else — vegetables and fruit and eggs and chickens and stovewood! Look at how these old-timers did it! Even wove their cloth! Why, it’s a cinch! It’sa little gold mine, right here waiting for the fools that go down on the flats and grumble because food keeps getting higher! If they had any sense # “It’s the lonesomeness,”’ she said slowly. “They want company—fun.” “You want it?’’ He broke in sharply. “You rather live down there in one of those gimcrack shanties alongside the shop, with people looking in your windows?” She shook her head. ‘I'd hate it!’’ Her voice found a sudden heat and force. “I’m going to stay here till I die. But—but it’s lonesome all the same. Sometimes She stopped. He leaned toward her with a sort of menace, as if challenging her to an- swer him save as he wished. ““You been lonesome this summer?” mi He saw color deepen in her clear, sunbrowned cheeks. A low, husky laugh rose from deep in his throat. ‘‘No, and you ain’t going to be. Not You’re coming over here and live, Lucy. We're the same kind, you and me. We're the kind that belongs here—the kind that came up here in the first place, and stuck!” The sense of kinship stirred again in him--kinship with the heights, the thin, heady airs, the eager forests and the breed of lean men and women who, of their free choice and at a grim price, had dwelt here. Through the narrow windows of the loft he out upon the prospect they had found — their empty, wooded hills and the clean skies. He laughed again, low in his throat, as his hands closed on the woman’s, almost as strong and hard and unafraid as they. ‘I know what they wanted when they came here,” he said huskily. ‘‘ They had to have it, the same as you and me, Lucy, no matter what they had to pay for it.’’ He filled his lungs and his shoulders straight- ” ever. looked *‘Elbowroom!”’ ‘*Room,”’ he said. ened. = 5 = be! + Ae = a Yo oui, =~ —. etl = oo ——_

Page 91

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST don't fool yourself It may get you “fired” More and more, employers are in- sisting that people about them be not only neat, but inoffensive. Halitosis (unpleasant breath) is responsible for many a good man and woman being “let out.” Nearly everyone is halitoxie at 3 Had Halitosis 6: hairdressers ) state that about every. third woman, many ol them from the wealthy classes, is halitoxie. Who should know better especially before personal contacts. Immediately it destroys unpleas- ant odors arising from teeth and gums—the most common source of halitosis. And the antiseptic essen- tial oils combat the action of bac- teria in the mouth. Better keep a 7 one time or another, and since than they? bottle handy in home and office, so Face to face evidence you. vourself, cannot tell when that you may always be sure. you have it—and friends won't tell—the safe | Lambert Pharmacal Company, St. Louis, thing to do is to use Listerine every day, U.S. A. LISTERINE IS THERE ANY? What is the point of paying more when Listerine Tooth fz Paste is a scientifically cor- rect dentifrice and sells for 25¢ for a large size tube? ——= —the safe antiseptic La

Page 92

OLISHING your automo- Pr with Johnson’s Liquid Wax is no job at all. With one simple operation you clean, polish, preserve and protect its lacquered beauty. Quick and easy to use. Johnson’s Liquid Wax stands between the fine finish of your car and its two greatest enemies —wear and weather. The hard, dry film it leaves on the surface protects the finish like an invis- ible, flexible glass armor. Leading automobile and body manufacturers recommend the use of Johnson’s Liquid Wax to polish and preserve the fine lacquered finish of their cars. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A thin coat of Johnson’s Polishing Wax on your car will protect the finish “ we z . and make a “wash” last twice as long. Polish and Protect Its Lacquered Beauty Lijutd Wan ts the perfect ture polish. Being absolutely never He mes soft and ttracts dust and lint even im the hottest ummer weather and protect it from liquids and hot dishes with Johnson’s Polishing Wax. summer days demand doily service in the dining room. Keep , } } your table gleamingly immaculate Without stooping, kne the hands, you can k T eling or souing eep your lino- leum like new. It looks brighter anc wears longer if polished occasionally with Johnson’s Paste or Liquid Wax August 20, 1927 Because Johnson’s Liquid Wax contains no oil or grease, its hard glazed surface never be- comes soft and sticky, even un- der ablistering hot sun. Dustand dirt do not cling to a waxed sur- face as they do to one on which an oily polish has been used. Your women folks probably use Johnson’s Polishing Wax on their wood, linoleum, tile and composition floors, as well as for furniture and woodwork. Borrow the household bottle or get one just for the garage. Grocery, hardware, drug, furniture, paint and depart- ment stores everywhere carry Johnson’s Polishing Wax. Rent aJohnson Electric Floor Polisher for a day or half-day from your nearest grocery, hardware, drug, furniture, paint or department store. It polishes , : floorsand linoleum quickly and easily JOHNSON S POLISHING WA PASTE or LIQUID™ CLEANS~POLISHES-PRESERVES-PROTECTS Ss C. JOH NSON & SON shing Authorities - y @ ee, |e [powcr i LIQUID WAX | | ' oh * = a * RACINE, WISCONSIN in Factory: BRANTFORI

Page 93

) ] —— Running on time and liable to remain so A long, dreary night stretched ahead, with stops at Greenville, Spartanburg, Gaffney, rlotte and half a dozen smaller North Carolina towns. It was Epic’s hope that he would have sufficient courage to f, yet the situation held him Gastonia, C efface himself, spellbound, as a bird is attracted to the snake which seeks to devour it. Hie was summoned to the drawing-room and ordered to make up both berths. The men went out to the vestibule for a while and returned before the job was finished They were not nice gentlemen; Epic was positive about that. They talked out of the corners of their mouths and left their sen- tences half finished “On time?” asked one. ‘Yas-suh, cap’n, us sho is.” ‘Likely to stay so?” ‘‘Seems prob'le. Special mos’ usually don’t lose no time.” ‘*Humph! ‘“*Yas-suh.”’ Epic vanished. The door shut and he heard the lock click. He jerked his head angrily. ‘‘Po’ white trash!’ he muttered ‘‘What business they got in drawin’- rooms?”’ The Pullman conductor appeared at the end of the car and beckoned to his porter Epic joined the elderly captain and for several minutes they carried on a whis- pered conversation. Epic seemed not par ticularly pleased, but he finally nodded agreement with very ill grace. When the train pulled out of Greenville at 10:25, the car was quiet. The winking lights of the bustling little city vanished and Epic pussyfooted down the aisle of the car. He glanced into Section 6. The larger of the two men was sitting in the upper berth, but he was not reading. His reading ght was dark and Epic breathed his ad miration. ‘‘That feller is a real ‘tective,”’ he decided. ‘‘Sits up yonder in the dark so’s the feller underneath will think he has went to sleep. I han’s him plenty on his Drains The ratlike little fellow down below was } ng himself, or at least giving a good appearance of contented indiffer- ence. His berth light was blazing and he frankly enjo was poring over the pages of a current magazine. The porter permitted his lip to curl scornfully. “‘Just let that feller try to get away an’ watch the other one light on him like a cat does a mouse! Just watch! That other feller is my kind.’’ He smacked his lips in approval. ‘Hot ziggity dam!” ] said Epic. *‘ He’saregalar Sherlock Hones.” heavy tri on toward Spartanburg : stopped briefly; the North Carolina line. was quiet. The creaking of joints, the rattl Inside the ear al of ceil ng ] ghts, the thrumn ng ol wheel on the rails and an occasior ing blast from the lox e whistle. Ey sat on a little stool the end of the ca leaned his head against the wall and dozed At half-past one in the morning the trair arrived at Charlotte. Epic stood shivering on the platform for fifteen minutes before the train pulled out, then re to the car. He stared down the aisle. A light still burned in Lower 6. The door of urned agair the drawing-room was shut. Epic stood uncertainly, then shook his head and re tired to the smoking compartment After all, perha he was wrong; pe! haps the two room had no connection whatsoever wit! the strange pair in Section 6. Certainl wan't none of his business nohow Hi th ight over the situ iin and ind then the f the ' y , not to wake n until the locomotive sounded t} approach to Salisbury at 2:15. That city was passec So was Spencer rT} . is passed I But between there and High Point some thing happened At about 30 o'clock Epic Peters found mself sitting upright iy the smok ng Continued from Page 21 compartment. His eyes were staring and his ct informed him that all was not as it should be. He was shivering and large drops of cold per spiration stood out on his forehead. Com mon sense advised that he remain where he was. Insatiable curiosity caused his long nerves were crawling Insti thin legs to uncoil and to carry his loose jointed body into the car His gaze quested instantly to Section 6 He knew then that something had slipped The light burned in the lower berth, but the curtains were parted. Almost at the same instant he glanced toward the end of the car. He didn’t see much, but it was enough to cause his heart to pound with terror. He caught a glimpse of two figures supporting athird one. He saw the door of the drawing room close, not violently, but gently, as though the man closing it feared to rouse any of the passengers Epic moved slowly between the rows of silent berths. One glance into Section 6 told the story. The little man had dis appeared from the lower berth! Epic knew what that meant. But still He started to turn away, and as he did so a heavy face was projected over the edge of the upper and he found himself staring into the china-blue eyes of the larger of his two travelers. The man half closed one eye and motioned Epic to climb close to him. Mr. Peters obeyed with vast reluctance. No sooner had his head appeared over the edge of the upper than he became ab- solutely certain that he had made a terrible mistake. The big man moved and Epic heard the click of steel. Then his horrified eyes lighted on a handcuff which circled the wrist of the man he called the detec- tive. He followed the chain and saw that the other handcuff was securely locked around the steel bar which runs along the edge of the berth. Epic bobbed his head and started to descend. ‘*Scuse me, boss,”’ he said politely but firmly, ‘‘I got an idea I don’t belong here.” “‘Stay where you are!”’ The voice grated harshly. “‘Now, cap’n, just listen at me. I got business way off yonder ss “Don't move!"’ The big eyes, steely gray now, held Epic’s gaze. ‘‘Something has happened.” ‘*Man, ain’t you sayin’ somethin’!” “Two men just showed up here and stole my prisoner.” ‘The li'l’ feller?’’ Epic bent his head and looked into the lower. ‘ Dawg-bite if they di'n’t! What you reckon they wanted with a shrimp like him ‘Don’t try to be funny ‘Boss man, I never felt no less funnier n my whole life. I swear : ‘They came here and slugged me,” cor tinued the big man in the upper bert “Then they took my own handcuffs and attached me to this rail. I ce: ‘Gosh! Wasn't they careless 't move The cold eyes stare d into the frightened orbs of the trembling porter. ‘‘ You've got to help me.” “No, suh! well within his rights. ‘“‘Man, you sho Hop Sure felt that he was better git you another helper, ‘cause I ain't no good a-tall.”’ ‘You're going to do what I say, and when I say. I’m handcuffed to this berth.” Epic descended abruptly and took three quick steps toward the end of the car. ** Ise gwine ig W here »” ‘To call the cap’n. Conductors ‘tend to things like this. "Tain’t no porter’s jot ‘Come back! The whole conversation had been cor ducted in soft whispers. This command was no less quiet than the others which had preceded it, but there was a sibilant some thing in the words which caused Epic to turn. The face into which he stared was far from reassuring THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE PORTER MISSING MEN You'll stay right here!’ But, boss man, | just aims to git oos f you move one more step,”’ announce the big man softly I'l] blast a hole through your carcass ‘Boss man, please don t git so loose w yo’ th reats!’ “Then do what I say I want you; | don't want the conductor Now lister You are to sound the buzzer on tl draw ng-room door W her they one it I die! Man, you better shoot me right now, ‘cause I ain't flirtin’ with then other two fellers.”’ “Don't try to be flip! You sound that buzzer and tell those two men I say t hurry back here with the keys “Keys?"’ Epic was puzzled. ‘ Whicl keys?" lo the handcuffs, idiot !”’ But g mistuh, how come you t espect " Then Epic's jaw sagged in earnest and he stared in horror at the man in the upper berth. The shock was so great, so unexpected, that the words came before Epic could stop them Then you ain't the detective?”’ Lord, no! fly cop all trussed up in the drawing-room They're coming back here to let me looss and we'll jump this rattler at Greensboro.” “Oh, golla! Honest, you woul'n't like Greensboro so much.” “Do what I say! And remember this One little move, one jump like you were thinking of getting away to call the con ductor, and I'll let a real flood of daylight through your spareribs.” “Y-y-y-you don’t got to talk so hom cide is “I mean it! My left hand is cuffed, but my right isn’t And I’ve got a gun tw feet long.”’ My buddies have got that } ‘Mistuh, I woul’n't git you peeved at me fo’ nothin'!” Epic tiptoed apprehensively toward the door of the drawing-room. He was d tinctly unhappy Once he turned and glimpsed the rock-like face of the criminal staring at him from the upper. Epic shud dered. ‘I done tol’ that fool Keezie he wasn't no detective Meanwhile much was happening inside the drawing-room. The two hard-faced strangers who had boarded the train in Atlanta were searching the wiry little detective for the fourth futile time. The captive was smiling cheerfully “Tough luck. boys, or else you're not ery good searchers An ugly muzzle was shoved into his rib Where’s that hande Ke Find it If you don't te Now sten, friend d know ou cant ire me wit! ul ( icker stuff? Don’t uppose I know ( woular qgare pull that trigge Nix! You'd like to get Wilson off this train, but ( iin t W ng to do murder for it » ist go ahead wit! l ttle game ot hid and SPC} He wa ) ) ( I} nreatened him Ww ( i iffe and he sn 1 i ( le \ wouldr waste 1 me ecause i KT VW it wouldn t ou eve toted tiet sort of His eye narrowed We Vs W i neal nicer thing han ge me re peeved at you W here t ‘ The me { y { | | ‘ ‘ \I eT t ist emem ‘“Blah!"’ The larger of the two men nodded to his companion gag back into the detective’s mouth and They shoved a tied him securely so that he could not Continued on Page 93 You can stop thinning hair! Worrving —a litth about vour hair? Yet thinning hair ca be restored to thickness and vigor-—hair loss can be checked—with this simple, daily nure EVERY MORNING t ve his na ilp thoroughly P } de Q . Ther ressed down firn ‘ siv never | } et ic int eT ‘ Move the scal 7 the hair while stil I smoot! t th You feel at once the t effect of Pinaud’s Eau de Q the tin gling glow of swifter ip cireulat Pins hair roots are ree ‘ r nourishment anew te e oot tite Notice how quick! the dandruff disappears— Pinaud vetually de strovs the dandruff ger The new feel of ve scalp t he ew of vour hatr in 1 a surpr ingly short time ts thickness ts fresh vigor, will delight ’ Get Pinaud’s Ea le Quinine at anv drug or depart { store toda Be sure to look for 4 nature ofl kd. P battle Pinand I rporat 20 East Ist Sf t, Ne York listrib I Parfumerie | Pinaud Paris. In Canada, Parfumerie Ed Pinaud, 204-206 kh Street, East IPINAUD?’S | Eau de Quinine

Page 94

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST . | |, | | —_— “. “Sx f Y y f 4 Y y d J i More chairs, says the mode in living room decoration A new and delightful dictate has come from interior deco- than the most gracious words and manners of a hostess. ’ rators; in a word, “‘chairs.’ You may be certain that your friendship for it will last, just They need not follow any set design. In the most interesting as you can be sure that its value and inner quality are beyond rooms, related periods are mingled with a free hand; fabrics doubt. Foron its underframe you will find the mark that guides are pleasingly varied, colorfully decorative. And so lovely and livable is the effect that there is no ques- tion that the mode has come to stay. Assuredly you know of at least one corner or spot in your home that seems to be waiting for one of these occasional chairs by Karpen. It will reflect new charm on its surroundings, will be a comfort- able companion when you are alone with it and a book, will welcome your guests more eloquently ASK FOR KARPEN FURNITURE - the wise purchase of all furniture for living room, library, sun room, or hall—the Karpen nameplate. May we send you the name of the nearest Karpen dealer and a colorful book that hundreds say is the most interesting, helpful story ever written on furni- ture, The Glorious Adventure of Home Furnishing (SA)? Mail the coupon below to S. Karpen & Bros., 801 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago; 37th and Broadway, New York; 180 New Montgomery St., San Francisco. FIND THE NAMEPLATE BEFORE YOU BUY August 20,1927 ———s. .. |. Se Se

Page 95

Continued from Page 91 reach the buzzer button. They flung open the door pic Peters, standing just outside, jumped as though he had been shot. One powerful hand reached out and wrapped around the arm of the terrified porter. He was jerked inside the room and the door closed. A livid countenance was poked close against Epic’s ashen face. ‘‘What were you doing there?” “Oh, lawsy, I wan’t doin’ nothin’!" “Don’t lie!”’ ‘*Man, did I ever tell the truth, Ise doin’ it now.”” The frightened porter saw the bound-and-gagged figure of the little de- tective. He felt ten iron fingers biting into his arm. ‘‘I—I suspect this ain’t no cullud health resort,’ he told himself. The men whispered to each other—then Epic remembered. ‘‘ Boss mans 7 “Whatcha want?” ‘‘The white gemmun in Section 6 sent me back to ask you-all fo’ some key or other.” ““Oh, he sent you for it?”’ **Y-y-y-yas-suh. He says he needs it pow’ ful bad.” Lips were put close against his ear. “The key we want is hidden somewhere in that section. We're going out and hunt for it. You’re going to help us, and you're going to keep quiet “ ‘**Man, you sho spoke the truth that time!”’ One of the men walked very close to pic so that any wakeful passenger might not notice the gun which was pressed against the quaking ribs of Mr. Peters. But Hop Sure knew the gun was there. His heart was missing every second beat and he felt as though somebody had flung a glass of ice water into his open mouth. There was little in the situation which appealed to Epic. But if anyone else enter- tained any idea that it was his duty to take a personal interest in the case, they were doomed to disappointment. During that interminable walk to Section 6, Epic Peters decided that the Pullman company was al- most minus the services of one porter whose name had appeared frequently on the honor roll. Making up berths was one thing; associating intimately with the muz- zles of revolvers was distinctly something else again. At Section 6, one of the men climbed to the upper, where he held a whispered con- versation with the handcuffed criminal. The bonds which attached him to the berth were inspected. They subjected the steel rod to a minute scrutiny. ‘‘Nothing to do,’’ announced the hand- cuffed man, whom they called Wilson, “but get that key. Even if we had a file, we'd wake the whole car working. As it is . The gun remained forcefully in Epic's ribs. He was ordered to search the berth. “If you find that key, there’s twenty dol- lars in it for you. If you don’t—blooie!”’ ‘*Please, boss, I always did hate that blooie thing ‘i “Quiet! And get busy!” There was no questioning the efficient earnestness of Epic’s search. Every fold of blanket and sheet was tested; the pillow- cases were tried; the pillows themselves were slit open. The mattress was treated in a like unceremonious manner. Under the supervision of the man in the upper berth, Epic and the two assistant criminals They looked over and under the seats. There wasn’t a spot in searched the upholstery or near the entire section where a flea might successfully have hidden. The train stopped at High Point during the search, and later at Greensboro. Epic uttended to his usual duties, but always at his side was the hard-boiled white man with the ugly gun. Whatever hope Mr. Peters might have entertained of fleeing into North Carolina was dispelled by this es pilonage When the train left Greensboro the men were frankly desperate. They were one hour and fifteen minutes from Danville and Epic gathered from their conversation that there would in all likelihood be one or THE SATURDAY two members of the Danville police force at the station to greet the little detective and his quarry Epic was thoroughly unhappy. He felt that in the next hour much was destined to happen, and that he wouldn’t be very far away when it did. He did not even rebel when ordered to drag the two suitcases from under the section and place them in the lower. First the suitcase of the detective was opened and its contents dumped on the berth Every box, every garment, every nook and cranny was searched without avail. Then the suitcase belonging to the criminal— Wilson— was subjected to a rigid hunt in the forlorn hope that the detective might have concealed the key there. A half hour had passed before the three men admitted that they were beaten. One made his way to the drawing-room for a final conference with the little detective When he returned there was a whipped look on his face. “If he’s got that key, he’s swallowed it.” Wilson, in the upper berth, was cursing. ‘“‘What am I going to do, boys?” “‘How do we know?” Everything in the softest of whispers. ‘‘Haven’t got a file, and if we had, it wouldn’t do any good. And there’s sure to be dicks at the station in Danville.” “*Can’t you pry this rod loose? “Not achance. And if it was possible, it'd wake the train.” ‘*And when we get to Danville One of the would-be rescuers made a hopeless, helpless gesture. “‘Sorry, buddy, but we've done all we can. That bimbo in yonder just outsmarted us. An’ it ain't gonna do you no good for us to go to stir with you, is it?” ‘*No-o, guess not.”” Wilson was very sad. ““You’ve come across fine. Guess you'd better hop it when we slow down outside Danville. Of course, it’s a helluva mess.”’ Epic gave vent to a sigh of relief. At least his troubles could not last much longer. In fact, he was willing to aid the two men. “Just lemme know when you-all wants to git away, white folks, an’ I opens the vestibule door fo’ you.”” They merely growled at him. Then things happened more quickly. The engineer sounded his whistle. The train started to slow down. Two or three little signal towers flashed past. ‘“‘Us is gittin’ t’ords Danville, boss mens,” an- nounced Epic. They made one last frantic attempt to extract the information from the detective. That man of ice wished them luck and divulged no information. And then, as their train slowed, the two rescuers followed Epic to the platform, watched their chance and leaped into the dull gray dawn Epic breathed more easily as he watched them vanish into the outskirts of Danville He hoped that they would continue run- ning until stopped by the Mississippi River. He closed the door of the vestibule and moved back to Section 6. A Scene in Montana EVENING POST Mistuh Wilson,” he inquired, “what does you crave to have me do now?” ‘*What growled the captive ‘Let the dick loose difference qaoes 1 guess.” “I won’t do it if you ain’t willin’, boss ‘“‘I know it. You've been all right, and you can just forget lers got off, see? where those other te ‘“*Man, I never could remember that ‘**Let him loose then. There'll be more like him getting on at Danville, and I'd rather they didn’t find him all tied up.” Epic gladly did as he was bidden. The bleak little detective grinned cheerfully at Epic, stretched his cramped muscles and dispatched the porter for the train condu Within five minutes t was arranged that the train was to be held at Danville long enough for Wilson and the detective to dress in order that they might accom pany the Danville officers to the city jail. From the end of the car, Epic watched the detective’s approach to Section 6. He saw the little man climb up and converse with Wilson. When he descended, he was stuff- ing his own gun back into his pocket. Epic was delighted to know that Wilson was no longer armed. The train snorted to a protesting halt under the shed of the Danville station. One very capable-looking man entered the Pullman and greeted the little detective. **Got him, Joe?” “Uh-huh. Up yonder.” **No trouble?” “Not specially.”’ Epic whistled. ‘*O-o-0-e-e-e!"’ he told himself. ‘“‘What a_prevarication § that gemmun is!” The detective dressed swiftly and re- packed his suitcase. Then, with unruffled calm, he mounted to the upper, produced the handcuff key and unlocked the steel wristlet which attached Wilson to the Pull- man. ““Get down, you. And dress, quick.” Wilson stared in amazement at his cap- tor. He looked at the key. There was an expression of complete befuddlement on his face. Once dressed, the little detective hand- cuffed himself to Wilson and they made ready to leave the train. It was then that he summoned Epic to his side. ‘“‘You porter,”’ he said, ‘‘you’ve got plenty com- ing to you. Here’s twenty to start it off with. I'll write you about the rest.” “Oh, lawsy, cap’n, I never seen so much ginrosity.”’ **Don’t mention it.” A smile grew once again on the face of Epic Peters, Pullman porter He ad dressed Wilson, the criminal, in friendly fashion. ‘‘Mistuh Wilson,” he said, ‘‘ you shuah ‘most got away las’ night. You shuah ’most did.” ‘‘What do you mean—I 'most did?” ‘“‘Well,”’ explained Epic happily, ‘you remember when you tol’ me ‘bout bein’ locked up yonder an’ I said I could fix things? Remember I started for the end of the car an’ you tol’ me if I didn’t come back you'd blow me full of holes? “Yes, I remember. But what has that got to do with my escaping?”’ “Oh, nothin’ much,” said Epi “’*Ceptin’ on’y that last night this detective gemmun heah give that handcuff key to the Pullman conductor. An’ the conductor didn’t want to be woke up at Danville, so he give the key to me an’ | put it in my linen locker.” Wilson's face grew sickly. ‘‘ You —you heap mean “Uh-huh I means just ezackly that Up to the very minute you said you was gwine shoot me, | thought you boss man was the detective who gave the key to the conductor an’ I was goin’ to get it for you The unhappy Wilson shook his head ‘*And | stopped you!” *Tha’s it, boss. I is only tellin’ you now ‘cause | want you to understand that Epic Peters always gives service, provided h passengers let him.” TOC is all it SOSTS No matter what you may be willing to pay for a ball, 75c is all this extra-tough, far-and- true-flying Goodyear costs, It’s an accurate ball be- cause Goodyear forms tt in automatic machinery that refuses to handle a ball with the slightest Imperfection. It’s a tough ball because the new Goodyear cover embodies all of Good- year’s long experience 1 making the best com- pound for every purpose. Hand Vour professional ~- poc—say, **..that new tough Goodyear. ”’

Page 96

94 ir engagement At that time indig atic n Germany was running high. km re Augusta Victoria, it seems, reiterated ggestion in several conversations. [ am very sick,” the Empress said. “I ‘ I may not be permitted to remain at he side Kaiser much longer. The thought of leaving him alone tortures me. it is dreadful. Will you, my dearest friend, ee to it that he marries again soon after I The dead Empress could not foresee the heaped upon the poor Em- peror wnen he Ccar- siurgations ried out her in- Having obbed the Kaiser of everything, the world nevertheless junction assumed to tell him that he must carry his cross alone. It is ¢on- venient to be he- roie at the expense of others. The very men who ver raised a hand to defend their Emperor clamored for the opportunity tosun themselves in his marty rdom. Com fortably installed n their pleasant homes, the suffer of their im t al maste! ipphed them vi arious thrills and roy ded senti mental slogans for | local elections Anyone who knows the Em- peror and his rev erence for Augusta Victoria knows hat his second marriage in no way violates her mem- ory or } lf love I met Empress Augusta Victona only a few t n my life. I was not an intimate of this remarkable woman, but cer- tain ties of sym pathy existed between us. One of these ties, perhaps the strongest, was unknown to her. When I stayed at the court of the Kaiser’s aunt, Grand Duchess Louise of Baden, after the death of my sister Caroline, Grand Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, it was my proud privilege z eyesight of my foster mother by reading to her every week a let- ter from Empress Augusta Victoria. This t to which I have aiready alluded n the descrintion of my life at the court of Karlsruhe. These letters, always written in he handwriting of the Empress and arriv- ng with unfailing regularity, confirmed my :dmiration for Her Majesty. I was per- y the Empress but the woman—and what a woman! » save the fa a SUDjeEC Ain Empress’ Busy Days It is difficult to summarize in a few words e ext rdinar\ affection which empress \ugusta Victoria inspired in those who knew her, and even in those who, like my- eli, aid ot belong to her more intimate Che intensity of her maternal devotion, extending from her children to all her sub- ects, made her an ideal monarch. Love and solicitude for others glorified her daily toil. Few women in lesser walks of life have a more crowded day THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MY LIFE (Continued from Page 23) The duties of a monarch are lightened considerably if his consort assumes some of his social responsibilities. In this respect the late Empress Augusta Victoria was an ideal mate. She accompanied the Emperor on all journeys of state, enlisting at times the aid of her daughters-in-law. The Empress inspected charitable institutions, children’s homes, hospitals, and the like, personally, in spite of her precarious health. She did not relegate these visits as disagreeable duties to the foot of her program. Liter- ally a mother to her people, her attitude The late Empress was deeply religious. Religion with her was not a conventional garment for Sunday wear. It inspired every hour, it colored every thought of her life. She coéperated enthusiastically with lead- ing church workers. Practical rather than theoretical, her activities were always crea- tive and constructive. She lent her support to the building of houses of worship. She was equally interested in homes for in- fants, in hospitals and in places of refuge for aged men and women left destitute on the shores of life. The Room in Which the Late Empress Died toward the state was that of a conscientious and competent housewife. Glowing faces greeted the Empress wherever she appeared. That was the reward she most treasured. Her life at the side of the Emperor, in spite of its tragic climax, was happy, be- cause no woman can be unhappy with the man she loves if, as in this case, he recipro- cates her affections. The Kaiser not only loved but revered his faithful spouse. Her family life, her relations with her husband and with her children, set an example much needed in these days when ancient ethical concepts are constantly subjected to new evaluations—an age when, in the phrase of the Greek philosopher, “‘everything flows.” Empress Augusta Victoria was exceed- ingly fortunate in the choice of her immedi- ate circle. Three ladies, Countess Brock- dorff, the mistress of the robes, Countess Keller and Friulein von Gersdorff, were her inseparable companions from the day of her marriage to the day of her death. These ladies aided the Empress effectively in her duties. Her private counselor, Von Knese- beck, a highly cultured and farsighted nobleman who had served the Empress Au- gusta, wife of Emperor William I, in a similar capacity, was a competent and con- genial collaborator. Without such aids the business of governing would be too strenu- ous for human endurance. The word of the Empress carried far. Augusta Victoria’s imperial authority backed every movement for improving the sanitary conditions of the people; she was especially interested in the campaign to combat man’s deadliest enemy —-tuberculo- sis. Her participation in the battle waged by science against this disease was one reason for the keen interest of the Empress in the health of my late husband, Prince Schénaich-Carolath. When she was un- able to attend conferences and discussions on important questions of social welfare, Her Majesty intrusted her faithful ladies with the task of representing their mistress. The acid test of war revealed in Augusta Victoria hidden sources of strength and en- durance that astonished us all. When the gigantic conflict of 1914 embattled Ger- many’s hosts Augusta Victoria redoubled all her activities. The war transfigured and transformed her. She was no longer merely an empress. She became a radiant emblem of German womanhood. Most royal women consider it at once a privilege and an obli- gation to visit the sick. But I know of no woman, commoner or queen, who spent her own vitality with the abandon of Empress Augusta Victoria. Almost at the point of collapse herself, she acted the Good Samari- tan in a thousand clinics. She was no au- tomaton. Every visit took something out August 20,1927 of her. At every cot she left something of herself. The kindness of Augusta Victoria was never mechanical. Her smile lacked the stereotyped quality which robs gra ciousness of its blessing. There was one private whose face had been half torn away by a shell. The doctor despaired of saving his life. Every known stimulant had failed until the Empress en tered the ward. The physician told her of the condition of the patient. Though other duties, including an important court func- tion, were calling her to the palace, she sat at his bed for half an hour. That half hour with his Em press probably saved his life. It brought back his failing spirit al most from beyond the grave. The man lives today, his face restored by plasticsurgery. He did not know that after she left his be dside the Empress had a fainting spell, dur ing which her heart almost ceased Lo beat Yet immediately afterward powe! ful heart stimu lunts enabled Augusta Victoria lo preside over u lurmal reception ut the de of het husband Unbowed The Em press had certain funds for charitable pur- poses. These funds were always over- drawn. How often Augusta Victoria made up the def icit from her own allowance! She practiced incredi- ble economies, es- pecially during the war, in order to aid the needy. Love for her is deeply anchored in the soul of her people. Her memory will dwell in their hearts and in their legends side by side with the glorious image of Queen Louise Weary unto death, she spurred her fail ing heart. By every possible device she concealed her fatigue and the initial stages of her malady from others, especially from her husband the Emperor. In peace and in war, she faithfully and cheerfully bore every task imposed upon her by her position and by her love for her people. The reward for all her labor was the unspeakable disappointment of seeing the red flag rise over the palace in Berlin while the Emperor was with his troops at the Front. Compelled to witness the violation of her privacy, the loot and plunder of her inti- mate possessions, the desecration of all she held dear, Empress Augusta Victoria bore herself with a dignity that impressed even revolutionary Berlin. She remained an empress to the last. Proudly she followed her husband into his banishment. No tears betrayed her sorrow to smirking and gaping crowds. Imprisoning her grief in her bosom, she crossed the border to join the Emperor. How her heart must have suffered and flut- tered! Any heart would break under such punishment. Sheer will power impelled her spirit to remain in its fragile dwelling. She (Continued on Page 99) o oe

Page 97

o _— ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 95 He used to dread those washday evenings. To come home to a tired, fretful wife, all nerves and no smiles, to sit down to a “‘deli- catessen dinner,” to hear nothing but com- plaints: the laundress forgetting the starch, the clothesline breaking down. He took to staying downtown on washday evenings. i )R his wife has exchanged washday for a day of /tvng! An easy chair and a book, a round of golf, a picnic with the children—these make up her washdays. She breathes sunshine and happiness, not steam-clouds and suds. And so, when evening comes, Now washday is like any other day. she’s light-hearted and smiling, not He’s greeted with a kiss that’s more long-taced and glum, than a peck, by a smile that comes from the heart. There’s a big dinner waiting; then a movie or a drive inthe car. And all the time his wife bub- bles over with interesting news: club meetings, shopping trips, bridge teas. You have guessed it: the modern laundry made the difference. For the laundry has relieved her, not merely of the washing and ironing, but of all the strain of supervision. Today, she just bundles the clothes together, the laundry calls for them—washday is over before it has begun. The day becomes a holiday—a whole day tree from humdrum tasks, free for lite and pleasure. . . . Every week, nearly three million American women enjoy this ‘“‘washday-holiday.”? Why not join them? S EN D I T TO TH E LAUNDRY 1/l-troned Services, Partia

Page 98

THE SATURDAY EVENING August 20,1927 Tue Viva-TONAL CoLtumBIA—‘‘/ike life itself” Model 810, illustrated, $300 Other models $275, $175, $160, $150, $115, $90 (Mahogany or walnut Hallelujah! (from “Hit the Deck Vocal — Crescent Tri Sometimes I’m Happy Hit the Deck Vocal Duet — Gladys R d Franklyn Baur Dear Eyes That Haunt Fifty Million Frenchmen Can't Be Wrong One Sweet Letter from You Like You (Vocal Chorus b Fox Trots with Vocal Choruses by Ted Fox Trots from “The Cir Lewis Ted Lewss and His Band No. 988-D 10 in. 75¢ No. 968-D

Page 99

a a COLUMBIA Sobre Las Olas (Over the Waves) Wiener Blut (Vienna Life) Waltzes— Jacques Jacobs's Ensemble No. 50042-D 12 in. $1.25 «+ @ The Star-Spangled Banner America (My Country ‘Tis of Thee) Vocals— Columbia Male Chorus No. 50041-D 12 in. $1.25 PHONOGRAPH COMPANY , 1819 BROADWAY . NEW YORK SATURDAY EVENING POST Columbia Musical Masterworks Set AQ Beethoven: Symphony No No. 48 in C Minor ) In Eight Parts (Four Records) with Alhum—$ ET people to listen just once, that is literally all you have to do!” was the emphatic remark of a well-known business man (*) who for many months had listened quite unresponsively to glowing words of praise concerning the Viva-tonal Columbia, and then, almost by chance, suddenly heard it played. He sat there amazed by the authority and convincing wholeness of the music, amazed by the overwhelming sense of a great orchestra in the very room, and, as he said, even still more amazed that all the verbal descriptions had failed to give him the glorious truth. His former point of view may be yours. It surely is if you have not heard the Viva-tonal Columbia Records played by the Viva-tonal Columbia! Talk- ing, writing, even imagining, cannot tell you. You must 4ear! One record will do it, ove. Go to your dealer and ask to hear No. 50042-D (listed in the margin of this page). For sheer pleasure follow it with some of the others also listed. You will be thrilled and amazed! You will find Columbia dealers everywhere — always displaying the music- notes trademark. For example, here are some of the leading names: BARKER BROTHERS, LANDAY BROS., INC., Los Angeles, California New York City, New York CABLE PIANO COMPANY, LYON & HEALY, INC., Atlanta, Georgia Chicago, Illinois DENTON, COTTIER & DANIELS, INC., MARSHALL FIELD & COMPANY, Buffalo, New York Chicago, Illinois L. 8. DONALDSON COMPANY, INC., BEN PLATT MUSIC COMPANY, Minneapolis, Minnesota Los Angeles, Calitornia JESSE FRENCH AND SONS PIANO CO., QUARG MUSIC COMPANY, Montgomery, Alabama San Francisco, Calitornia S. HAMILTON COMPANY, JOHN WANAMAKER, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania New York City, New York Other Leading Dealers Everywhere) Viva-tonal Records ~::: i auc » Manufacturing ¢ Canada: Columbia Phonograph Company, Ltd., Toronto

Page 100

98 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 e+ 4 *KEANAN- ry when he wakes up / JY ES, DRY — in thirty minutes it is hard and the finished object is ready foruse! Justa few minutes after brush- ing it on you can touch and handle “61” So easy to apply that even the youngsters can use the rich colors effec- Lacquer Enamel. tively. Klows smoothly and brushes on with- out laps, streaks or brush marks. “61” Lacquer Enamel is not a “trick” finish buta durable, long lasting, waterproof coating. Its hard, tough film resists wear and will not chip off. That’s why it makes such a won- derful floor and linoleum finish too. You can depend on “61” Lacquer Enamel, a product of Pratt & Lambert-Inc., makers of fine finishing materials for seventy-eight years. “E{” LACQUER ENAMEL An enamel fu n ish for furniture woodwork and d floors Free QuarTer-Pint Can j Send ten cents to cover packing and mailing cost and we will send you a regular quarter- pint can of any color of ««61’’ Lacquer Enamel you select from the list of colors mentioned in the next column. Only one free can will be sent to any one household. We will also send you color card and names of local dealers who sell 61’ Lacquer Enamel. Think of the possibilities in your home, with the following beautiful colors of “61” Lacquer Enamel: Chinese Red, Rich Red, Orange, Yellow, Light Blue, Rich Blue, Light Gray, Dark Gray, Light Olive, Jade Green, Light Green, Dark Green, Brown, Ivory, White and Black; also the transparent Clear. GuaRANTEE: If any Pratt SS Lambert Var- nish Product fails to give complete satisfaction you may have your money back. P & L Varnish Products are used by painters, specified by architects and sold by paint and hardware dealers everywhere. Pratt & Lambert-Inc., 83 Tonawanda Street, Buffalo, N.Y. Canadian address: 26 Courtwright Street, Bridgeburg, Ontario. PRATT@LAMBERT VARNISH PRODUCIS I I Ir TOT I DT I CW. _ MVE . sare ) S\ 44 ee AE = = , , . ¥ es i WAS \\ ”” (“a 499 F | O OR The transparent floor finish in clear but the varnish won't crack. For — «he surface - A+ ly ys E . E " i ‘ , : a * fears’ = LY, we} i] { ~ and colors, which stands the “ham- nearly forty years it has withstood on save oll Bs Y/ = 2 V ARNI S I | mer test.” You may dent the wood the utmost in foot traffic on floors. +4 — S = é: : j AY BLL MMM TT cena a ~ ¥

Page 101

— —— ¥

ay Continued from Page 94 held death at bay because the Emperor needed her. To the Emperor, throughout his reign, Augusta Victoria was a solace and an in- spiretion. The flame of her love imparted warmth to the cold splendor of the imperial! court. With womanly intuition she always found the right word to set the Emperor's mind and his heart at rest. Notwithstand- ing the heavy demands made upon her by her position and by her husband, the Em never neglected her children. No mother could supervise with greater exactness every detail of their lives, from their baths to their lessons. How she worried over their small derelictions! My personal encounters with the Em- press Augusta Victoria were four. When- ever I was privileged to meet her I was deeply impressed by her personality and by her incomparable kindness of heart. I have already described my first meeting with Her Majesty on January 8, 1908, shortly before the severe attack of my husband, Prince Schénaich-Carolath. The occasion was a luncheon at the imperial palace. | remember how warmly the Empress inquired after the health of my eldest son. Hans George was rounding out the sixth week of his existence. Her simple words built a bridge between herand me. They conveyed to me something of the love of the empress for herown children. Every after noon she managed to wring from fate a few hours, which she devoted exclusively to he: children and grandchildren Busier than the busiest loaded with unescapable duties of repre sentation, not to speak of her church work she refused to surrendet iose precious hours. She maintained the laily intercourse with her children at the expense of her fast-ebbing strength. Even for an empress, the day, unfortunately, has only twenty-four hours. At once an empress and a mother, a wife and a social worker, Augusta Victoria was compelled to crowd two days into one. press bourgeoise club woman, and her charities, t} t Hausfrau in a Dozen Castles After my first visit to the Empress, my husband, Prince Schénaich-Carolath, hov- ered for years between life and death. On many occasions Her Majesty asked for a report on his health. Repeatedly she com- missioned her ladies to convey to me a word of encouragement. A few years later, when the condition of the prince enabled me to participate again, to a limited extent, in the social life of the court, the Empress asked me to tea in her delightful salon. This was our second meeting. How can I describe I can characterize it only by a word for which there is no English equiva- lent —gemiitlich. The atmosphere was jolly; it was congenial; it lacked the stiffness and formality associated with an imperial court. It was an intimate private sitting room, alive with personal reminiscences. Family pictures predominated. Her Majesty’s chil- dren at various ages seemed to leap from the walls. There were realistic photographic reproductions of her many homes. The average housewife is kept busy by one home. An empress must play the Hausfrau in a dozen castles. To every dwelling she must give something of the atmosphere of a home. That is a career in itself. No woman, empress or peasant, if she wants to create a home atmosphere for her husband and for her children, can rely on her servants I met the Empress for the third time at a formal court ball_—-my only one. The ill ness of my husband, coupled with the war and the revolution, robbed me of the gay in the capital that would have been mine under ordinary conditions. Having missed so much fun as a girl, I want my hildren to enjoy themselves to their hearts’ content. The palace was flooded with lights. The most dashing cavaliers of the capital and its prettiest women made their bows before both Their Majesties in the stately fashion prescribed by court etiquette. ] » 9 this salon.

¢ ie THE SATURDAY

EVENING POST

At the request of the Grand Duche emained t ng Er ey Fedora of Saxe-Weimar, my sister’s suc until t M t Em cessor, I acted as the chape ron of her sister to me tod iL he a ea we Adelheid, now wife of my stepson Prince eserved spite of | ment. O Adalbert. Princess Victoria Louise, the onl ntimate ey elf t daughter of the imperial couple, was at her whicher ed hert the 1 best. The apple of her father’s eye wasthis « to so larg« ‘ ‘ He 1 smile princess. I be tray no secret if I reveal that her benig intenar ed ) for many years, until the princess was quite one the st1 under wh her heart wa grown up, the Emperor excused himself a eve d Ir ‘ from affairs of state ar weighty confer j ng, she d word f ences with august visitors to hold the hand T le rf | ng gra maneu r of his daughter before she would consent to the pro sed or i Prussiar go to sleep! While faithfully discharging tradition, sed stered the km my duties as a chaperon, I danced deliri- peror, to establish th ) pos e cor ously that night. Something seemed to tell tact between mi eople These me to pluck the hour -carpe diem. That sits enabled the } ‘ e lo Oo was 1912-—-two years before Death, the ernmentsand mar nhabitar if the pre Grim Fiddler, beckoned all Europe to par- ces to mee the vereign nd to take in his ghastly dance. their wishes before It was an attempt } | | | | | | } | | | | | | | } | | The Duke and Duchess of Brunswick With Their Children. The Duchess of Brunswick is the Only Daughter of William II My last meeting with Augusta Victoria to diminish the distance between Ber was one year later, during the imperial andthe hinterland. Theoretica it least maneuvers at Breslau in 1913. The occa- t afforded an opportunit gain the ear sion was a dinner given by the notables of of the Kaise the province of Silesia to Their Majesties, Unfortunately these | wever we followed by a grand receptior the d, went sometimes aw ng heart palace at Breslau. Here I renewed my burns and d t tion in their trail acquaintance with the Crown Princess Ce- Though the Kaiser w not to blame f cilie, now my daughter-in-law. We had not 1 failures, the evertheless accumu met since we had played together as ch ated resentments against him. Intrig dren in a small summer resort on the coast accident or the wkw I f othe of the Baltic Sea yften thwarted t intentior I have already referred to this as the last It is curious how d t seems to be maneuver under the Emperor. Short for many people to « erse with royalt afterward stark realities took the place of Kt 1ette paralyze elr ¢ ts. Some peo- war games. It was also my last meeting e fawn upor t They are what w with the Kaiser until after the war. I did call in German / They ve not meet William II again under the Ger- craze for the niné rhe iffer fron man flag. Our next meeting, so memorable ermine mania. Su¢ ‘ e their at- in its consequences f both of us, took tentions upon ty at time Their place on Dutch soil in Doorn. The Em- apparent modes cor s enormous peror’s mustache was turning gray. Never- conceit. They de onst y to bathe in theless, he looked as young as ever. He _ the reflected glory of the t resen m ¢ } ( omply stom sdom of I'here ag ved by Fes seem tT that makes like a wit! V +} it } sometl tt aqaum uman yalty craves for the t sible a rum T fl i ) combine Unfortunatel) yuntable mes ad culties obstac people. The si ] les tuati« i¢ ieliberate h n s raise ‘ ‘ ‘ - nat f..1 4 “i , onve throne turies t tot uman imp the between a ne part of courtier hey iman They nature often resented wo with the starkness of tragedy 1 th h

r lity or m at symb» sure r} A l bl deat But the ci ista \ ictoria Germany was » hrought t brought to ld I wept I coulk

al

) Inform The wear his crown all day ar WwW t t } yet « Is The ire die disma aione in té pec

ire th tal Are Lie vai

) yuct whave in Yet } ht It ty wit! combinatio his explains some of th whi almost in rince mm is complicated . pile a to te rown that rta fivur ure hir lo at ¢ n ail dout ind ring to mono] Ss unaer dé of plott ittent wl > stule “ath the welled r ht ikia Dowe hye yt

my ye d of t »>human be Was ( f He ng about ro} e psycholog her deat eour ngur i head Em a foreign land may not unwelcome ne

Page 102

100 in candy— HOME-MADE 4 There’s nothing else like home- made candy. Ask anybody. Ex- cept, of course, OH HENRY! And the very reason OH HENRY! isso good, is that it’s made this home-made way: FUDGE CENTER: 1}, cups pure cane sugar; }, teaspoon creamery butter; 1 cup rich, full cream milk; 1 cup corn syrup; white of one egg CARAMEL LAYER: 4 teaspoons creamery butter; 1!4 cupscornsyrup; 3 cups rich, full cream milk; 4 tea spoon salt. PEANUT LAYER: 3 Spanish whole nuts, cups prime No. 1 roasted in oil (hulls removed) CHOCOLATE COATING: Melt one pound pure milk chocolate We tell the world how to make OH HENRY! because we’re proud of the fact that it’s made of the very things that come out of your own pantry—made just as you’d make it yourself. You can make it yourself! But why —when you can walk up to any candy counter and say ANDY MADE | mercial establishment. THE SATURDAY | trip alone, unaccompanied by her husband and by her eldest son. The other children met the train carry- ing their mother’s body. They were not alone in their grief. The revolution was ob- literated. All Germany mourned with them. A common sorrow united the im- perial family and the people. The funeral of Augusta Victoria was a testimonial to the love which, in spite of the revolution, still dwelt in German hearts. Once more, if only for a day, the glory of the empire was restored. Imperial uniforms and imperial colors reappeared on the streets to salute a great woman and a great Empress. The demonstration was all the more moving be- cause it was silent. No bell tolled, no chime was sounded at the funeral. The government, fearing a popular outburst, had silenced all bells. Unknelled, though not unhonored and unsung, the dead Em- press passed. Every year, on the anniversary of her death, the sarcophagus of the Empress is buried under an avalanche of flowers and wreaths from every part of the country. One of these wreaths is a tribute from the Emperor, one is a tribute from me. Every year I hurry back to Doorn, wherever I may be, to be with the Emperor on this tragic day. When I became the betrothed of the Kaiser he honored me with the photo- graph of the late Empress that always stands on my desk. In simple affectionate words he told me of the beautiful relation- ship which had made his marriage a con- secration. The Kaiser’s confession to me in the sacred hour of our engagement con- firmed the impression I had gained from the intimate letters of the Empress to my maternal friend, the Kaiser’s aunt, Grand Duchess Louise of Baden. The room of the departed Empress re- mains as it was when she died. Not a pic- ture is changed, not a chair is moved. It is the largest as well as the sunniest room in House Doorn. Like the rose garden, named in her honor, it remains dedicated to the memory of Augusta Victoria. Fresh flow- ers, constantly renewed, bear witness to the Emperor’s undying love for Augusta Victoria. Every week at least once the Emperor visits the room where her faithful heart communes with his memories. Deprived of her crown, Augusta Victoria still wears a halo. No one can enter the room that has seen so much sorrow and suffering without being visibly moved. The Pinch of Want It was shortly before Easter, 1922. A year had passed since the German people had accorded to their dead Empress greater honors than they had paid to her living. Every day brought a new catastrophe. If nothing else happened, the mark took a tumble, although we had not yet reached the point where the value of German paper currency could be expressed only in figures suggesting the distance from the planet Mars to the moon. I was seated in my study at Saabor Castle, going over my ac- counts. This may seem an unfitting occu- pation to those who expect princesses to spend the day trying on coronets before a gilded mirror when they are not occupied in the experiment of testing through how many thicknesses of blankets and mat- tresses they can feel the presence of a pea. These were bad times for all. Trained only for the army, it was even more diffi- cult for members of royal families than for their colleagues of less exalted rank to carve out a new career for themselves. They could hardly start as clerks in some com- No one—except the newly rich, desiring to exploit the con- nection—wants a clerk or an apprentice whom he must address as Your Royal High- ness! Yet to surrender their title would have been a confession that they had aban- doned all hope for the restoration of mon- archy. Moreover, even had they been will- ing to forgo their claims, their incognito rHE HOME-MADE WAY | would not have been respected. EVENING POST Although the government had seized the Kaiser’s personal fortune, his legal repre- sentative succeeded in obtaining for his master a substantial payment on account against future settlements. Many formerly reigning families felt, and still feel, the pinch of want. My for- tune, too, was shrinking daily; but Saabor, with its acres of land and its forests, repre- sented real values that defy deflation. Nevertheless, I could not make ends meet without close figuring. “Mamma.” “Please don’t disturb me. ing.” But something in the child’s tone made me look up from my papers. It was George William, my second boy. The expression of his face alarmed me. The woe of all the ages stared at me out of his countenance. George William had been crying. His little face was still bathed in tears, which he tried to rub away with a handkerchief of dubious color. “What is it, dear?” I said, taking his little head between my hands. “Mamma, I’m so sorry for the poor Kaiser. He must be so dreadfully lonely.” I am work- Cupid Writes a Letter Accustomed to discuss all things with my children, I had dwelt repeatedly on the harshness of the Emperor’s fate. His soli- tude in a foreign land, after the death of the Empress, had moved me to tears; but I had hardly expected that George William, the sturdiest of my children, would brood over the tragic exile of his Emperor with such passionate intensity. ‘“*Mamma, when I grow up I want to fight for the Emperor.” “Yes, dear.” ‘“‘Mamma, may I write him a letter?” “Certainly you may, my child.” It seemed strange to me that I had re- sisted my own impulse to write. The very depth of my sorrow was the reason for my silence. Some feelings are too deep for words. My permission pleased the little fellow immensely. He immediately fetched pen and ink and laboriously indited his letter. I gazed musingly out of the window. I saw, as in a dream, the pictures of the Kaiser that had decorated my study in Greiz. I saw him again, talking like a father to my sister Caroline at her wedding to the Grand Duke of Weimar. My ears caught the echo of his jolly laughter at the luncheon in the imperial palace, where I had met for the first time the Empress, now slumbering so peacefully in her mausoleum at Pots- dam. I saw the Emperor's worried expres- sion at the Grand Court Ball in 1912. I saw him riding on his charger at the imperial maneuvers in Breslau. I saw him stand on the balcony of the palace amid the shouts of the multitudes, in his field-gray uniform, in July, 1914. I lived once more through that dreadful November when Henrietta was born, amid the shouts and shots of revo- lutionary Berlin. *Mamma’’— George William's voice in- terrupted my reverie —‘‘is this right?” He read his letter to me. The address was correct: ‘“‘To His Majesty the Em- peror.”’ Then, however, George William adopted an informal tone, more natural to his years, and he wrote a warm-hearted child- ish letter. He signed the letter ‘‘George William,” adding, with a proud flourish, ‘‘ Prince of Schénaich-Carolath.” Unfortunately, his grief mingling with his ink had made an unsightly blot on the paper. I gave him another sheet to copy the letter. I did not suggest any change in the wording. It came straight from the heart of a child. To tamper with it would be to rob it of its spontaneous appeal. With slow boyish hands he addressed the en- velope himself and insisted upon seeing it mailed at once. Little did George William dream that he was playing the part of Cupid and of fate! August 20,1927 The Kaiser’s mail is always heavy. Every day brings hundreds of letters, clippings and requests for aid. The mail is sorted in the entrance lodge, where the office of the master of the household is situated. Every letter that has the slightest merit or the slightest claim upon the Emperor’s attention is submitted to him. He places his ‘‘W” and the date in a corner of the missive to denote the fact that he has read it. To this he adds a date, and sometimes a remark. If the letter is silly it may pro- voke caustic comment such as: ‘ What a confounded ass!” If a letter pleases the Emperor he records his impression on the margin. Important letters are preserved in the archives, and they are sometimes duplicated for distribution among intimate friends. When my boy’s letter arrived the Em- peror’s soul dwelt among shadows. Life had forced to his reluctant lips the bitter dregs of its cup. Into the bleak despair of the Emperor, George William’s letter fell like a ray of sunshine. It touched his heart profoundly. He had asked God for a token in the depth of his sorrow. Somehow my boy’s simple letter seemed the answer to his prayer. A few days later ‘‘ Mamma, mamma!’ George William cried jubilantly. ‘A letter from the Kaiser!”’ He held aloft a large envelope with the imperial crest. It was a message in the Emperor’s own handwriting, thanking my boy and inclosing a photograph of the Mas- ter of Doorn. The envelope contained an- other inclosure—a letter from His Majesty to me. It was the first letter that I had ever received from the Kaiser. The Em- peror thanked me for George William’s letter and extended a cordial invitation to me and my children to visit him at House Doorn. Everyone, even among the initiated, who returned from Holland told a different story. Some were discreet to the point of absolute silence. Some were indifferent. Some were unfaithful. Incredible tales were bruited about, mysterious hints of re- ligious mania, violent explosions of temper. Evil tongues and scandalmongers posi- tively affirmed that grief had unhinged the Kaiser’s mind. Could it be true? , An Invitation to Doorn I had been reading Edgar Allan Poe, that troubadour of beauty and of pain. Was the Emperor’s brain a Haunted Palace, haunted by the horrors of the war and the horrors of peace? And travelers now, within that valley, Through the red-litten windows see Vast forms that move fantastically To a discordant melody; While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale door, A hideous throng rush out forever, And laugh—but smile no more. Was this, perchance, a forecast of what awaited me in Doorn? Should I accept the invitation? For myseif, yes. It was my privilege. It was my duty. I must go, irrespective of what awaited me, if I could bring even a crumb of comfort to my exiled Emperor. | could not take my boys without seriously interfering with my plans for their school- ing. But the girls? and Henrietta? I did not, in my heart of hearts, believe the sinister rumors of the Emperor’s men- tal derangement, but I would not have been a woman and a mother if I had not been alarmed. I was accustomed tolive and walk with tragedy all my life. I was not afraid for myself. But I wanted to spare my children the possibility, however re- mote, of a shock shattering all their illu- Should I take Carmo sions. I made up my mind to go, but to go alone. (TO BE CONTINUED) OO

Page 103

oe. LL THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 101 — Now Everywhere in Demand e 4 Advantages found only in OME said the public didn’t want to know how tires are built. We proved the fallacy of that. The public has known for a long time. And when Miller—with the aid of science—produced a balloon tire as it should be built, eliminating spotty tread wear, cracking joints, inside friction—and told a graphic story of that tire—public response was imme- diate and overwhelming. Today —the three scientific advantages found only in Miller tires are known, talked of and demanded wherever tires are sold. That's because the public does want to know how tires are built—how more miles and less trouble are made possible—and is not satisfied to risk tire dollars on mere bulk and good outward appearance. Your Miller dealer will gladly show you a cut section of a Miller tire and demon- strate these three advantages: Miller’ GEARED-TO-THE-ROAD - The Tire Builder says: “If one comes back, I'm penalized” 1. One-Piece Tread and Sidewalls Gone for all time is fear of cracking joints and of the destruc- tion that followed the old way. Now the husky Miller tread reaches all the way around the tire in one piece from toe to toe. All joints and binging centers are eliminated—no chance whatever for cracking. Six months of actual road service on hundreds of thousands of cars proved the scientific correctness of this new Miller design 2. Road-Shaped, Geared-to-the-Road Tread The broad, road-shaped contact surface of the Miller exclu- sive Geared-to-the-Road Tread runs even with the road. With light or heavy load—the entire width of this famous tread is on the road—taking wear evenly—and therefore s/ow/y. Thus Miller banished uneven, spotty tread wear—the outstanding America’s IENTIFICALLY CORRECT Balloon Tire 1 One-Piece Tread and Sidewalls 2 Road-Shaped, Geared-to-the-Road Tread 4 “Uniflex’”” Cord Construction cause of short tire life. Not satisfied to stop there—a third unique result was obtained. 3. “Uniflex” Cord Construction Insures uniform flexibility of all parts—completing a per fectly balanced tire Built to resist curb and rut jolts springs back from blows to normal shape with the quick springy action of live rubber—leaving One-Piece Tread and Sidewalls, Bead and ‘“Uniflex” Cord Carcass secure and intact Thus the common cause of internal wear is eliminated—and miles added to balloon tire life. THE MILLER RUBBER CO. AKRON, OHIO, UV. S. A. Halloon Trres MILLER KNOWS RUBBER

Page 104

102 A the end of its neat ribbon, the Conklin ‘‘Three Fifty”’ fountain pen is always ready to the hand of the lass who writes out lessons and makes class-room When she starts to school this year see that she is equipped notes with this beautiful and depend- able aid to an education. The price of this Conklin pen is only $2 It 1s made in rich red and blue, and 1t contains every that care and good work lanship can put into a pen. The xov's model 1s fitted with the “clip that can't There are other Conklins I prices,allcolors,andallmodels. ‘the Conklin Pen Company TOLEDO OHIO SAN FRANCISCO CHICAGO Pens Pencils Sets THE SATURDAY LETIERS Epitor’s NoteE—The letters which follow were written by A. L. McCorrison of Sears- mont, Maine, to Ben Ames Williams, over a period of some four years. Except for the elimination of some personal matters, and ex- cept for condensations here and there, they have not been edited. SEARSMONT, Feb. 28, 1926. EAR BEN: The Rube abroad, ar- D rived home from Portland all right, with no mishap worth mentioning. I had a very pleasant time; that will always be a red-letter day in my memory. Grim winter still lingers; clear and pleasant today, but so cold that snow does not melt in the sun. About 2 feet of snow in the woods, with quite a heavy crust, and I'm afraid many partridges are imprisoned. Can soon tell, when I go into the woods. More moose are seen here than ever before. A few years more and this country will be }| overrun with them. Well, town meeting tomorrow. The first Monday in March. Once there was much excitement at our annual town meetings. The pros and cons of questions were discussed with much ora- tion. But now most questions are settled by the powers that be. And men vote like driven cattle, and will soon go over the hill to the poorhouse. I will send you our town report, so that you can judge for yourself. It may interest you. 7:30 P.M. Sarah is listening to a hymn which is be- ing sung in a church in Portland. Now, it is preaching. Later will be a violin solo; then I will listen, for to me, of all the music we pull out of the air, there’s nothing else compares with the violin. A short time ago I listened to a violin solo from the Congress Square Hotel, Portland. The Rose Waltz— old-time dance music which carried my thoughts back more than fifty years to my | first dancing school. It was in the winter of 1873-4 over in Frankfort. The school was taught by Jerry Whitten and Billie Whidden, two of Waldo County’s old-time dancing masters. William Whidden was an Englishman, and it was said he served seven years to learn to play the violin. Of him I know but little, as he disappeared from my hori- zon at about that time. But Jerry Whitten was a native, born over among the Montville hills, near Free- dom Village. A noted character in Waldo County for many years later. He lived many years in Belfast, and died there. His home was on the east side of the river, just above the upper bridge. A beautiful spot at high water, on the banks of the Passagas- sawaukeag. I wish I could properly describe Jerry Whitten and remember the many anec- dotes that I’ve heard about him. A dancing master—by profession, all his life, an expert with the violin. In deportment, stern and severe. A strict disciplinarian. A man of medium height, straight as an Indian, square-jawed and florid complexion, with a deep-set piercing eye. If dress proclaims the man, Jerry was a gentleman of the old school, for he always wore a silk hat, kid gloves, Prince Albert coat, velvet vest, light-colored pants and white spats over patent-leather shoes. The corner of a silk handkerchief always showed in the left breast pocket of his coat. When he walked, it was a quick, sprightly step with a slight bend of the knee. When he smiled, his stern face lit with the glow of night. He was a strict disciplinarian, and thereby hangs this story. It was in the winter of 1882-3 in Pierce Hall in Belfast. The old hall burned many years ago. It stood on the right-hand corner of Church and Main St., south of post office, opposite Hayford Hall. I was living in Belfast, working at my trade, that winter, and often went to dances, especially when my old dancing master, Jerry Whitten rosined the bow. EVENING POST August 20,1927 FROM FRATERNITY It was, as I remember, an exhibition ball at the close of a series of old folk’s dances. The hall was crowded with old and young, and Jerry was at the height of his glory. It was his boast that he was never danced down—that he could always play as fast and long as any one could dance—and often at the close of a ball there would be a contest. And the contest would always start with an encore. To be encored was like the effect of red wine to Jerry, and his response was instantaneous. But through all the excitement of the wild dance Jerry the dancing master would insist upon strict order—he would brook no roughness, such as to clog or breakdown. It was near the close of the ball. A hornpipe had already gone two furious courses, and a third was well on its way, when a young fellow at the head of a set directly in front of Jerry jumped with all his might and came down in a clog that jarred the hall. Instantly the music stepped and all eyes turned to the stage to behold Jerry, right arm extended out above his left shoulder, hand grasping the quivering bow, his eyes fastened on the offending youth, in a look such as only Jerry could give. All was silent for several seconds, when Jerry barked out, “‘All ready for doing hornpipe!’”’ And once more the merry dance was on. But at the next: ‘Cast off, and balance all,”” the young man, who was once more up in front of Jerry, repeated his wild breakdown, till the dust of years arose from the cracks in the floor beneath his feet. Again the music stopped. And like a pan- ther Jerry glided across the stage and jumped out into the hall, and landed on his toes in front of the twice-offending youth, who stood with downcast eyes and humble mien. Said Jerry, “‘ Young man! What do you mean!” All was silent in the hall. Everyone held their breath. When the young man, bowing low to Jerry, said, ‘‘ Mr. Whitten, I beg your par- don. I am very sorry, but with such music—how can I help it?” For a few seconds Jerry’s stern gaze rested upon the offender. Then he whirled and strode mincingly back to the stage, and said, in a voice that all could hear, ‘‘ Damn it! I know it!’’ Then bedlam broke loose with loud applause, such as Jerry probably never heard before. And all discipline ceased. Old women pulled their skirts to their knees and clogged to their hearts’ con- tent, till they reeled exhausted to their seats. Men shouted and hugged themselves till they, too, staggered to their seats. But Jerry Whitten the fiddler still played furi- ously on. Mak. 1ST, 2:30 P.M. All quiet at town meeting today. Sarah joins me with best wishes. Sincerely, BERT Mc. SEARSMONT, Ap. 7, 1926. EAR BEN: Dog arrived yesterday 4 p.M.; also your letter last night. He came through in fine shape. He is a beauty. Is certainly a blooded animal. The crate was too heavy to bring in a sleigh, and was left in Union. It may be of value to the man who sent it. If I had seen it, would know. Will have it set aside for a while, and return if necessary. I accept your gift of the dog with re- served conditions. And will make no pre- dictions until I know more about him. He seems to have a good disposition and must have already had considerable training, or he is a wonder. And it is up to me not to spoil him. Have named him Mac. Allis grim winter here. Snow two feet in woods and ice 20 inches in pond, and no bare ground on the hills. Last year ice all out of pond Apr. 2nd. And yet, we may have an early spring. Thanks for dog. Sincerely yours, BERT. THURSDAY, 2 P.M. Buttons, the yellow cat, and Mac have already become good friends and are play- ing about the floor. I think you will be surprised when you see this dog. I know nothing about bench dogs. But this is the handsomest dog I ever saw. The stranger will look twice as he passes Hardscrabble, if this dog is in the yard. SEARSMONT, Apr. 22, 1926. EAR BEN: Are having the coldest weather ever known for time of year; no rain or warm days to melt the snow, which is a foot or more in depth everywhere in the woods, and only a trace of bare ground in open land on the hills. But the south winds may come with a rush, and a few days of rainy weather would make a vast change in the looks of the landscape, and the fishing may be fairly early yet. I like the dog, and believe he will make a good one when he becomes more ac- quainted. In the barn and house he is fine; couldn’t be better for his age. Minds me perfectly. But when I let him run outdoors he seems to loose himself, and runs wild and will not pay any attention when I call him. Has never yet gotten away from me, as by following him after a while he comes in. But I dare not trust him loose. I believe he will get way-wise in time, as he is very affec- tionate. As soon as the snow is gone I shall take him out in the woods and fields on leash wherever I go. And if he comes round all right, we are liable to have a dog to be proud of. To me, he is the handsomest dog I ever saw. I have great faith in this dog. Sarah and I have pulled through the win- ter in fine condition. And so have the par- tridges. She joins me with love to you all. Sincerely yours, BERT Mc. SEARSMONT, May 16, 1926. EAR BEN: I suppose you are wonder- ing if trout are biting. I got seven (7) this forenoon just above the Campbell rips on east side; pulled out 3 more and lost them. The water is high, but trout are fat and crammed full of feed; the air was full of hackles, though I saw no trout rising. The season is very late and cold. Yesterday I was repairing the fence down near the river, and as I came out through the black growth I found snow in several places a foot or more in depth, and the ground, in places, full of frost. The landscape is fast taking on colors and it is good to be alive. The woodcock are here in numbers. I saw his works every- where, and my eyes grew wet when I thought of Reck and Frenchy. How I miss those dogs. Reck had asore on his hip that broke twice during the winter, and Frenchy was almost dead. Reck lies under an apple tree out over the hill, and Frenchy down beside the river. Peace to their ashes. Mac is growing fast and is a very quiet dog. You would laugh to see him point the old rooster. Though he will point the hens by the hour, he has never yet harmed one. Sarah sends love to you all. Sincerely, BERT Mc. SEARSMONT, July 18, 1926. EAR BEN: Was sorry you could not come for the last few days of trout fish- ing. Though there was a lack of rain, there was trout enough, and some good ones were caught on the 14th. I never saw more small trout, and never before so many fishermen after them. I was just behind every time, early or late, the last few times | went; but man- aged to get a mess from under the banks in the woods just at sunset. Got 9 one night above the Pines—one 13, another 12 inches, (Continued on Page 105 Ee a

Page 105

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 103 o the man who tells his family roe “We cant afford that home yet” Nowe in the world was it so easy to own a fine home as it is today. Never was aid so plentiful. A FREE BOOK shows the way. Send for it today. . » » » OU won't need a lot of money \ to get the home you want. The home of your dreams is well within your grasp today... when you have complete information, the ease of , home ownership will amaze you. Ready assistance awaits the man who wants to own a home. Your employer, your banker, your con- 1 ) tractor,your realtorand your builder are ready to help you give your family the many advantages and savings that come with owning a home. Their co-operation will help you finance it, help you build it the ! way you want it, and give you a better home than you ever thought possible. We have prepared a free book, with the co-operation of recog- nized authorities, that gives com- } plete disinterested information on this vital subject. It tells you how to finance your rial that brings new comfort and cuts one of your to his family to read this book. It is showing } home on a safe, workable basis . . . shows you biggest items of upkeep cost by a third thousands how easy it is to actually oun the home how good a home your present rent money Ww ill buy. This material is Celotex. Itadds little or nothing they have always wanted \ It gives you facts that help you select a reliable con- to the cost of building; because the broad, strong Don’t put off this important matter another ! tractor, or correctly judge a home already built. Celotex boards replace other materials in walls and day. All you have to do to get the facts is to mail % h STTER / root, cut casts in radiation and heating plant, and the coupo! below. This valuable book wili be \ You can have a BET TER yome year after year can save one-third your fuel bills. sent free and places you under no obligation. Send ! than yo hoped for Celotex also gives you a home that is cool on for your copy mght now } Moreover,this book willshow sweltering summer days an : nights; snug and warm THE CELOTEX COMPANY, Chicago, Illinois t you how you can owna bette in bitter winter weather; always quiet Mills: Ne Orleans. I . , home than you ever dreamed . - . ; ie Brar n many principa ¥ y Send for this book NOW% ue beclis tor addveuad \ possible. It will tell youabout Se y . : Worl h == the amazing building mate- Every man who is renting owes it to himself and ALL LUMBER DEALERS CAN SUPPLY CELOTEX | 127112 The sign of a well-built house ie | i= iw = - . g O : For old homes, too 15 rl = - ; \ wri = es comfortable in any weather, low in IN houses already built, Celotex lines attics. Here j= wer = ee upkeep cost and high in re-sale value. will make your bom ley vasener* eaves |= i — ¢ eet a 1S Hie ba 4 er 4 4 ra j Bi mor uel mor } It — —— / nt re , rk aoe = 1 | Mail coupon for this free book , | INSULATING LUMBER THE CELOTEX COMPANY bee, Ie, rp M 645 North Michigan Avenue, Cl Hlinois : Dy | ie &y ' T AT D Al " |. E > FOINT ATERIAI Please send the book, “Yes, You Can Own That Home,” and the ; ; ace Celotex Build Book Makes This Building ’ Stronger Warmer Cost Less Cooler Quieter " : Name Built in Winter’ toHeat Summer ° to Live in « ’ : suicoeR JOHN DOE contractor en; 7 I am inter g or | g a Cel ) Ae pet Approximate pi I i la (

Page 106

104 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20, 1927 eA week-end without worry Kelvinator keeps food fresh until you return Go away for days or a week. Leave your Kelvinator full of food. It will stay full of cold —‘‘cold that keeps.” When you return, green things will still be crisp and tempt- ing—dairy products sweet and fresh—meats whole- some and tender. You have the reassurance of Kelvinator’s dependable performance —less than one call per machine per year for readjustment. The Kelvinator cooling unit provides a 24-hour reserve of cold should the elec- tricity be temporarily shut off for any reason during your absence. i Kelvin Oldest Domestic Electric Refrigeration NT IW |e a | ae \ = mh 2 47 3 53 Ee Oy SN 4 sit Steg 1 & The combir ation of Nizer with Kel- vinator as Divisions of Electric Re- frigeration Corp., affords a complete line of correctly engineered applica- tions for domestic and commercial purposes with worldwide service! Nizer-Kelvinator ice cream cabinets 7 areinuniversal use because of their depend- able, econom- ical operation. Visit the Kelvinator Dealer for a demonstration, or, if you prefer, write us for complete details. * + * Kelvinator covers the whole range of electric refrigeration service. The low-priced Model 272; Cabinet Kelvinators, with cabinets by Leonard; de luxe, solid porcelain Jewett refrigerators; a Kelvinator cooling unit to fit your refrig- erator. Correctly engineered commercial installations. Convenient terms. Kelvinator, 14200 Plymouth Road, Detroit, Michigan, Division of Electric Refrigeration Corp. Kelvinator of Canada, Ltd., 1130 Dundas St., East, London, Ont. © K. C. 192 t Better —— Always Better ae EE —— —_

Page 107

a = (Continued from Page 102) On one trip hunting moose tracks, found the track of a large bear. Saw the track in two places, about midway the meadow. Probably the same bear crossed A. '.’s cornfield. ‘The track measured 4.5x7 inches. Mac is hale and hearty, eating a litth better; is herein the room. A few minutes ago brought a kitten from the kitchen and carefully dropped it in my hand. I should suppose retrieving a live cat ought to make him tender mouthed. He goes with me about the fields; has never left me yet; will point birds. Shall take him into the covers soon, but of course he is an uncer- tainty yet. A lady from New York, here today, says Mac is a Llewellyn and a very handsome dog. Do you know if he is English or Llewellyn? Sincerely, Bert M. SUNDAY, OCT. 3RD, 1926, 7 A.M. TI EAR BEN: Fora long time I’ve been trying to write to you, but have been so busy—don’t laugh—I couldn't get time. Friday about half-past 12, noon, as I was coming out of the store, two men in a car, with a handsome setter dog on the back seat, slowed down and asked if there was anything toeatinS. I directed them to the hotel. The next question —‘‘ Are there any wocdcock hunters,” and so on. Before I could answer, M. said, ‘‘ You are talking to the only woodcock hunter in town.” 1 told them my dog was young, had never been worked. “Could I go out with them? Were there any covers near?”’ I told them of the Fringe, a half a mile away, and promised to wait till they ate their dinner. But could not stay long, as I had work to do. The man who appeared to be the boss, said, ‘We won't wait for dinner; will get it later.” Went in just this side the spring, put up five birds—woodcock—fired 3 singles and a double, without a feather to show. Was back to hotel and ordered dinner. Time, going, hunting and coming, not more than 30 minutes. Had told them of Mac. They took me home while dinner was pre- pared. Mac, of course, was all a dog sould be. He had been tied all the forenocn. I let him loose and had all I could do to keep him from bolting after sparrows. Finally as they were about to enter their car, Mac spied a cat in the shed and went after it. For a moment I forgot him. When the boss yelled, ‘“‘ Your dog’s got a cat! He's got a cat in his mouth! He'll kill it! He'll kill it!”’ I stepped from behind the car, and saw Mac trotting toward us. If I had kept still, there would probably have been no disorderly break. But I said, ‘‘ Fetch kitty, Mac—fetch kitty.” Then with a slight playful twist of his body, he gave two short jumps sideways, tossed the cat in the air, and tumbled pell- mell over it. But kitty was not hurt, nor afraid. In explanation, told them I never saw a dog, hard mouthed, that would re- trieve a live cat. Both men laughed; heard of such a thing. might be all right. I haven’t had Mac on game yet. Neither has a gun been fired over him. But if he is not gun-shy, and I hardly think he will be — by the way, he hunts and points sparrows and robins--time and patience, I believe, will give us a dog to be proud of. I wish you were here tomorrow morning - to shoot the birds I think I could put up with Mae. I intended to take him out today, so I could tell you what he would do. BUT! But! But! I have rode through fourteen towns since eleven o’clock today, did the chores, and set 3 traps in the corn for coon--by flash light— before I ate my supper. There’s plenty of birds. Ifave seen several trout brooks today, but none to compare with those of Rulling- ham. I have two bee trees under the hill in my woods. Typical old growth, rock maple, at least three hundred years old. The hand- somest specimens of wild-bee trees I ever said they never But thought it THE SATURDAY They stand about 6 rods apart, each side of the brook in upper part of woods. If the bee hunters don’t steal them, we'll have a bee hunt—that is, take them up when you come. I once took a hundred pounds of clean honey out of a bee tree only a few rods from these trees. Can't you come for a day or so and see what Mac will do? On small birds he would be hard to beat, and I never saw a gamier point than he will make. But he is uncertain yet, and I want someone to do the shooting while I tend the doj, Friday night coon came into the corn. I thought at first the old bear had been there, by the havoc. But found the tracks of a large coon, probably several. Will be ready for them the next time. A large dock of partridge near Herman- sen’s Camps. Another at H. W.’s. There's plenty of birds. The boss had 3 woodcock and one partridge, and did a lct of shoot- ing after dinner on the Fringe. saw one BERT. Oct. 6, 1926. ‘YEAR BEN: Rec'd your letter Mon- day. Sarah and I are A 1 and have been for many moons, except our three score and more, which slows us up a little. Monday night just at sunset I heard two shots just across the road. Two of H. B.’s boys wounded a partridge. Told me about it in the store that eve. The next morning they called me soon after daylight. Did not find the bird, but put up several partridges. Mac marked game and pointed a bird on the ground, but went wild when bird flushed. Had all I could do to hold him once he got away, but snarled up, and I soon caught him. It was in thick cover near an apple tree. Did not see a bird, but got within 30 yards of 5 before they flushed. The dog is all right except he is the most timid cuss I ever saw. At first seems to be shy of all strange or new sounds and things Has always been so. But soon gets over it. Is crazy for the hunt. And his point is fierce —something like Reck. I have great faith in this dog, but think he has at first got to be handled with care. I could not recommend him to an old, ex- perienced woodcock hunter. But I believe you and I could get wood- cock with him now. The reason I haven't tried the w’ck, have had no one to do the shooting. But when the leaves are off I believe I can find them with Mac. The only thing I fear is—gun-shy. And I want to be at the other end of the rope and have his at- tention on game when the first gun roars This may be overcautious. I hope so. Friday, Oct. Ist, had our first frost that seared the leaves, and now the woods are taking on colors, but the leaves are not falling yet. Coon came in the corn last night, and one old fellow dropped husks on the trencher of one trap. I may get him yet. he hears or sees. 8:30 P.M. Just up from supper, and have put Mac through his evolutions of hunting and fetching dead bird—which is a hen’s wing. He does very well. When he drops the wing in my hand I give him a taste of fried mackerel. With our best wishes to you and yours, Sincerely, BERT. SEARSMONT, Oct. 13, 1926, 9 P.M. EAR BEN: Wind southeast, raining hard. I often think of you these splen- did autumn days. I never saw better hunt- ing weather, but the leaves still cling to the alders and birches, as we’ve had only one withering frost. R. P. was down east duck hunting. Got 20 odd birds one morning—12 at once. I did not ask how many guns. My thoughts went back to the days of the pigeons, when olla a) EVENING POST I used to see them bunch on a lim! they would fall in a cloud over the baited bed But where are the pigeons now Mac grows handsomer every day Am trying to get him acquainted with the gun; take it with me when I can, but would not care to shoot I wish you could have him the first time I belled him. I skip de- tails, but Sarah said, ‘“ You'll never make that dog wear a bell.’’ But he serenely now, so I have hopes of the gun The stranger looks at him, and in compari- son speaks of the * 7 of his own dog seen wears a bell iong-haired coarseness THURSDAY, 10 A.M Have been gathering apples, but can’t keep my mind on the job, as the trees and grass is lush with moisture. What a day to be in the covers. But I haven't heard a gun today 10 P.M About 2 o'clock S r and said if I would like to try the dog, he would go and do the shooting Started for the Fringe, then decided the pasture would bea better place. Left car at bars, belled Mac and puta line on him. In the first patch of alders Mac began to mark game. My thought was robins or ground sparrows, but told S. to look sharp; did not have rope in hand as dog was quartering and coming round at call. Suddenly he froze. I should have stepped on the rope, but instead went to the left, thinking of noth- ing more than a sparrow, when up went a cock. My gun was on safe. I yelled, **Mark!”’ when up went another in front of Mac, and like a flash he went after it. I can see the end of the rope now as it flashed out of sight, probably 10 feet high I caught him about halfway down to the muck hole Mac had gone crazy; had all I could do to hold him. And no shot fired. He was so rank I gave up all thought of shooting, and took shells from gun. From the water hole went up over the knoll beside the line fence Just beyond the knoll Mac began to mark again. I toldS. to fire at anything he saw and as often as he could. Again Mac pointed fiercely. I told S. to look out, and stepped in toward dog; then Mac bolted, and three birds got up at once. One went over S's head, and he fired twice. Another went low down, and I saw it light; the other went out over the tops of birches. At S.’s double, Mac stopped and looked back at me—had been fiercely trying to get away that is, chase bird. He showed no sign of fear As I had marked a bird light, told S. to come in and I would put it up. But before he got to me, flushed another, and fired Mac only lifted his head for an in- stant. There was no tail between legs or sign of fear. Mac, I think, will not be gun- shy. From now on I shall try to teach him to stop at the word. Whether I can or not remains to be seen. But I still have great faith in Mac. A dead bird would have en couraged the dog In all my days of hunting I never saw more birds on ground covered. I don’t be lieve there’s any flight on yet. The drove in to the yard again. neavy rain last night drove these birds onto the knolls Leaves still very thick, especially on low alders Three moose seen tonight just at dark in P. F.’s turnip patch. Moose are seen al most every day. There’s going to be trou still there. I them marked and think they will be ble with moose. Bee trees are have safe Ree’d a letter from Mr. S. He certainly Ruffingham brooks and meadow eyes of an artist He and gone, and often sees the with the says “Summer has my mind has taken me back to the after- noon when we followed a brook through a come great shadow of deep woods into a lush meadow where trout were Jumping, and tall elms stood waist-deep in evening mists.” With best wishes to you and yours B. Mc. BUILT TO WEAR WITHOUT Try a Sample ‘6 , ie merican Lruck on a Money Back Basis! REPAIR Here is a product tested and proved in service. This letter from the Ray- bestos Co. is typical of what users all over the country are reporting: “In reference to the ‘American’ Pressed Steel Barrel Trucks which you ema for our Bridgeport and Stratford Works, we are pleased to advise that these trucks are giving us complete sat‘«laction, and our men report that they are, without question, the best trucks they have used. We can assure you that when additional trucks are needed, we will gladly specify the American’ Pressed Steel Truck To appreciate the strength, ease of handling and balance of an ‘*‘American”’ Pressed Steel Hand Truck, you have to see it. Buy a sample truck, look it over and then put it to work you can watch it. If you are not satisfied that it is saving you money through better service—send it back will refund the purchase price. “ here and we The American Pulley Co. [The A Pulley C Manufacturers of Stee! Spi:it Pulleys Pressed Stee! Shaft Hanger P sed Steel Hand Truc nd Presset Stee! Shape 4200 Wissahickon Ave. MERICA PRESSED STEEI TRUCKS rWIict Philadelphia, Pa LIGHT AS WOOD AND AS GOOD

Page 108

106 years, his country refused to enter a war in which intrinsically it had no part. Henry James is describing a long journey from North to South. “He speaks of the general pretensions of the Pullman,’”’ says Mr. Wells; ‘“‘the monstrous rumble of which seems forever to say to you; ‘See what I’m making of all this; see what I’m making, what I’m making’; to which, in his charac- ter of returning native, he replies; ‘I see what you are not making; oh, what you are ever so vividly not. And how can I help it if Iam subject to that lucidity which appears never so welcome to you for its measure of truth as it ought to be?’”’ Lucidity? Well, let us take the rhythms of the Flying Scotchman or the Paris- Monte Carlo Express and set verses to them. They, too, are pretentious trains. ‘“‘See what I have made, see what I have made, see what I have made.” Our English Heritage “T see what you have not made; oh, what you have ever so vividly not. And how can | help it if 1 am subject to that lu- cidity which appears never so welcome to you for its measure of truth as it ought to be? I see what you have not made, and what dreadful things you are making. I see hideous black towns, growing instead of disappearing. I see labor and capital far- ther away from each other than ever. I see you talking about and preparing for the next war. I see your middle classes vulgar, grasping, avaricious. I see numbers of your upper classes cynical and idle; learning nothing and forgetting nothing. I see your peasants in many instances no better housed and no more intelligent than your cows. And I see where, with beauty back of you, you are putting up a myriad of jerry-built houses and inane little villas. “And I see, too, what you are making and have not made—you, the Paris-Monte Carlo Express. I see all the crooks and gamblers and prostitutes of Europe hurry- ing to the common meeting ground which, to many Europeans, is the aim of all effort. Crooks and gamblers and prostitutes sell- ing, the rich and the well-born buying. I see, oh, so vividly, what you have not made. And you have had a thousand years to make it in and we but a scant one hundred and fifty.”’ But Mr. Wells knows all this. He would agree with me about the Flying Scotchman and the Paris-Monte Carlo Express. It is only when he surveys America that, like most Europeans, he alters completely his perspective, his standards and his classifica- throwing aside all logic, all dis- crimination, all knowledge of human na ture, all the delicate connecting links that constitute analysis. Even An American Tragedy is not typical of all American bell boys. I know a poet who was once a bell boy. Undoubtedly some bell boys ought to be hung, but by no means all And as to American slang—although I to say this in the presence of the shade of Henry James—it has at least coined one expressive phrase, to which I call Mr. Wells’ attention. The phrase is: our old man.” Let us get down to details. when he says all tions; hesitate “So's Just what joes Mr. Weils mean Americans are grayish-faced, gray-clothed, low-spoken? Just what does he mean when he speaks of our shocking publicity? Our secret lives? Our unintelligible lingo? Ou parser of « motion? Our gion’ our ignorance of flowers, minerals, natural things? Is he speaking of our fox hunters, our polo players, our the last , unfortunately, bought most of their clothes in England. When it comes to slow speaking, is he thinking of the ling Southerner and Middle Westerner, or the New Englander, New Yorker, Penn lvanian, and se on, who speaks with the dity of the flizabetnar Ienglishmar a farmers, our upper classes, who Intl rec ently araw THE SATURDAY EVENING POST FUROR BRITANNICUS (Continued from Page 7) rapidity long ago lost by the Englishman who stayed at home. Does he think every American—the whole one hundred and twenty million of them—gets into the newspapers and is brought up with that in mind? Is he un- aware of the fact that, although the Daily Mail and its followers learned their tricks from America, England presented us with the tabloids? Doesn’t he know that the man who introduced revivalism into Amer- ica was an Englishman, Francis Asbury, and that revivalism is distinctly an Anglo- Saxon, or, still more, Celtic performance? Let him search the corners of Wales and the slums of Manchester today. Has he no knowledge of the actual workings of a de- mocracy which enable fools frequently to seem in authority? Possibly an excellent thing, since experiments are tried and, when found wanting, cast aside. When he says we know nothing of birds, flowers, minerals, natural things, is he speaking of our poets, artists, foresters, scientists, the thousands of women who belong to garden clubs, the millions of Americans who have gardens, the millions of Americans who each year go camping, the sixty million or so rural Americans? Or, if Mr. Wells is not re- ferring to these Americans, but—when Dickon Clissold speaks—is referring to the average American politician and publicity man, and—when he himself speaks—to the American gunman, American immigrant, the small-town religious hypocrite, the small-gauge business man, the submerged city dweller, whom he must be speaking about, or at least, should be speaking about, since his textbooks are Babbitt, Elmer Gantry and An American Tragedy, what deductions are we supposed to draw? Would he have us suppose that the English poli- tician is on the whole a charming and in- genuous fellow? That Austen Chamberlain has a mobile and expressive face? That Lloyd George is a symbol of neatness, smartness and good taste? That the usual London clerk and city man is a ruddy, well- conditioned creature? That the English real-estate operator is a model of honesty and unselfishness? That Pecksniffs are un- known in England? That the English lift man talks about flowers and birds and min- erals in his leisure hours? That the English criminal reads Shelley to his victims while robbing them? That the newly arrived English Jew discusses philosophy? That Old Bill of The Better’ Ole is a gracious fel- low fond of Austin Dobson? An American Paradox When I was a youth I worked for a while in a university settlement house in Bethnal Green. I was told to teach baseball to a group of young East Londoners. It took me at least two weeks to begin to under- stand a single word they were saying. But it never occurred to me that all of England talked a debased lingo, or that “‘here was a people degenerating, worn halfway back to speechlessness and brutishness.”’ Nor, when I came across Yorkshire peasants or Devonshire peasants whose entire vocabu- lary consisted of about five hundred words, did I think England was returning to the stone age. I remembered that after all the English were a race which had produced We have produced a Lincoln, a Whistler and a Saint-Gaudens. Cities foster grayish-faced men every- where; everywhere the ordinary man is a child socially and intellectually, and sometimes a selfish and hypocritical child. Noblesse rare and beautiful thing simply means that somewhere in your family tree someone has acquired enough money or property to allow you and other descendants to cultivate the virtues. I agree with Mr. Wells. In a general way—for I imagine that is what he means cities are dreadful—that is, cities as they now are. There are no clean cities, Shakspere. oblige—a no quiet cities, no cities that do not distort out of the semblance of humanity at least 90 per cent of their inhabitants—not even Paris, which is one of the largest forest pre- serves in the world. Most city people stop thinking after they reach the age of twenty; they function entirely by means of me- chanical reactions. But there is 100 per cent more chance that cities, as they now are, are a passing phase, than that igno- rance, lack of poetry, lack of knowledge of natural things, is a passing phase among those classes of society, English or Amer- ican, that have the least advantages. Nor must it ever be overlooked that, paradoxical as it may seem, the very me- chanical proficiency of America is partly due to the fact that no other country is closer to the frontier or to the soil. The American restlessness and the American pas- sion for motor cars are partly owing to this. The Naive Englishman Englishmen, as I have said elsewhere, believe in dragons—that is, they fit the picture of the world to their own framing. No other race does this quite so expertly. I have an elderly English friend who is typi- cally British. One reason why I enjoy him, but not a particular reason why I always understand him. One night, two years ago in France, he came to dine with us. On the table in the living room was the latest copy of the Paris Herald, and on the lounge, just back of the table, were sitting two French- men who spoke English as well as did my English guest and myself. But such little things as that have never stopped the English from expressing their opinions one reason why they are powerful but not popular. At the moment, the Paris Herald was filled with the latest English divorce case, and if you know England, you know what that implies. A Mr. A was being sued by a Mrs. B, and involved and intimately concerned in the most sordid and disgusting details, frankly given, were what seemed to be dozens of Mr. C’s, D’s, E’s, and so on, and scores of Mesdames and Misses X, Y, Z’s. Somany of them that one English wit remarked ‘“‘that if this kept up, the cube roots of the alphabet would have to be used.”’ Each nation has its favorite crimes and scandals, but for sheer unadulterated one should say “adulterated’’—strength it would be hard to beat an English divorce case. ‘*Do you know,” boomed my friend over the heads of the innocent French guests, and taking up a subject we had been dis- cussing that afternoon—-‘‘do you know, I have come to the conclusion that what really separates us from the Latins-—and when I say ‘we’ Iinclude you Americans, of course—is our conception of the sacredness of the marriage vows?” Exactly. So you see what I mean. When I was at Oxford there was a great to-do--as there always is—about American professional coaching. It was doubtful if English university crews should row against American university crews because of this. The agitation was led by a coach of the Oxford varsity. I heard him make speeches on the subject. He was a don of Christ Church on a comfortable stipend, and he taught just one thing—rowing. So again you see what I mean. As a general rule, in any sort of discus- sion it is necessary to announce your premises and then limit your field of in- quiry, or if you insist upon immense, vague, general pronunciamientos at least to admit of categories and the differences they imply. A man who stated that all horses had hairy fetlocks and large rumps would not be taken seriously in racing circles. But Mr. Wells cannot help himself. Usually a fairly logical man—exceptionally logical for an Anglo-Saxon—when it is a question of the United States he is not conscious of his lack of logic. He is played upon by a cen- tury and a half of tradition and prejudice. August 20,1927 Even he is not strong enough to escape. He sees what he is expected to see; he believes what he is expected to believe. Better one bright remark about America, one sentence of brilliant summation, than a chapter of truth. Better and far easier to concentrate upon a Babbitt and an Elmer Gantry, than upon a Morgan or a Rockefeller or an At- terbury, a Bishop Lawrence or a Cardinal Gibbons. Better to confine your attention to Main Street than allow it to wander to a Byrd who flew across the North Pole while in naval service, or tothe Americans who, on soldiers’ pay, offered themselves to be ex- perimented upon in the fight against yellow fever. As to American reading, the reading pub- lic of any country is shamefully small, the American reading public, considering our size, especially so; but Mr. Wells must not forget that most English writers make their living in America, and that it was America which discovered Meredith, Con- rad and himself, not to mention Gals- worthy and, to a great extent, Bernard Shaw. Not long ago Wells’ history of man- kind shared honors as a best seller, if I am not mistaken, with Wasserman’s The World’s Illusion. But laying this aside, again I would ask him, would he have us believe that the great mass of the English people read intelligently and well? America is a continent. One should be a trifle humble in its presence, as the decent American is humble in the presence of the continent of Europe. To land in New York, or even to cross America, and then imagine you know it, is exactly like landing in Southampton and, after a month or so in England, writing articles about the Bal- kans. Yes, much the same thing, for the most astonishing thing to the American who is aware of his country—and not many are-—is the variety, despite a common lan- guage and standardization, which it ex- hibits. A variation so great that when you step across that arbitrary thing, astate line, you are in a different principality. Where can you discover people more unlike, for ex- ample, than those of North and South Carolina? But this variety is a delicate and subtle matter and not discernible to the casual spectator. Even our great cities are unlike; even our little towns; though the latter seem, on the surface, so much alike. It is a dull observer who would find, let us say, the New England farmer similar to the rancher of the Rocky Mountains, the Southern cotton planter the same man as the steelworker of Pennsylvania, the Chi- cagoan not to be distinguished from the New Yorker. Building Up the Picture One becomes increasingly astonished at Mr. Wells and most of our other English critics—astonished and irritated; the latter despite a former denial of passion; for Mr. Wells and most of these critics are novelists, and novelists are supposed to be susceptible to fine shades of dissemblance and to deal in them. If any man has need of the scien- tific method of reasoning—that is, reasoning that moves from the often-repeated par- ticular to the general—it is the novelist. Indeed, save when he talks of America, Mr. Wells uses this method invariably. If he wishes to paint a portrait of an Amer- ican, he should do this—-I present the method to all visiting Englishmen. Let him choose first a state, then a town, and in that town, a family, and then, in that family, an individual. After choosing the individual he should discover what strains are in his blood and what traditions. The Quaker of Philadelphia is not like the Huguenot of Charleston; the patroon of New York not in the least like the Puritan of the Ohio Valley. If he wishes to be really a social commentator, he should then discover what especial stigmata this care fully selected individual carries. A large Continued on Page 111 eee eee So — “+

Page 109

nme —— SR =[l[S—="— —— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Your Speedometer talks and tells you how to get more smooth powef out of your engine [F you will stop to think about this principle of | Now—how can you know the right grade of lubrication according to the mileage on your oil to fit the space in the cylinders in your car at speedometer you will realize the sound common __ the present time? Right here is where your speedom- sense in it! eter does you an extia service. The mileage on Perhaps you have considered motor oil only as — your speedometer indicates the wear in your a lubricant—something which coats the hot mov- engine because wear comes through mileage! ing surfaces to reduce friction. But—another Tell the Authorized Sinclair Dealer how many miles equally important task for motor oil is to go up _you have driven your car—he will fill your crankcase into the cylinders and seal the space between with the grade of Sinclair Opaline Motor Oil which piston and cylinder wall. Naturally, in a new car will give you correct lubrication— which means greater this space is small. But as your car travels mile security and economy of operation, increased compres- after mile, the constant pushing up and down of sion and power, more mileage from gasoline, less dilu- the piston wears this space larger. tion and sludge, less carbon trouble, less wear and lower a i e ON, , repair bills, with increased pleasure and satisfaction in w hat “ the final answers Your motor oil ene driving. Furthermore, Opaline cushions the bearings keep increasing in “ body "as this space keeps in- and all moving parts in your engine, reducing the noise creasing in size! If the oil is too light, you have of operation. Try it—the first filling will convince you. an ineffective seal—you lose compression and power—your gasoline seeps down into the SINCLAIR REFINING C OMPANY, INC. crankcase. On the other hand, if your oil is too wae Makers « of Sinclair Gasoline and H-C Gasoline heavy your engine becomes lazy” and carbon xy ~saneer r= ane Snaion crusts the top of the piston. Aclanta a Kansas ( ity Heesten aa Boston _ Sincratn QPALINE MOTOR OIL Seals Power at Every Degree of Wear INCLAIR | sieht, ; Eu [e:| EEE ae — MOTOR onl / | | iif—££. tell the dealer your mileage (672151419) he will five you the right grade - of OPALINE MOTOR OlLas shown on the Sinclair Recommendation Index based on the SINCLAIR LAW of LUBRICATION - [_for every machine of every degree of wear thereis a scientific SINCLAIR OIL fo suit its speed and seal its power) +++ This correct method of oil application is exclusive with the Authorized Opaline Dealer - - Ask him for the | rie baa ont booklet “The Sinclair Law of Lubvication”> ++++++++%e% L SR SINCLAIR OPALINE MorTor OIL Recommendation index [Passen er ‘ ' [Peseenge*|

Page 110

108 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST This masterpiece, completed in Arizona in 1911, exemplifies the fullest meaning of an en- deavor designed for the purpose of controlling power. The Roosevelt Dam is a symbol of a American genius as applied to — commerce, for power is the basis of industry and transportation. ane Rissover Din August 20,1927 _—— Sena . a eT SF Oo oo

Page 111

. eee ad Se EVERY PURPOSE On land, on water and in the air, the mighty forces of gasoline power have been con- trolled and developed to un- dreamed of achievements. Dating from the first crude motor of more than a quar- ter century ago, the Conti- nental Motors Corporation has created and produced gasoline motors to a degree and a quantity experienced by no similar organization in the world. Each Red Seal Continental THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Motor is designed and built to meet specific power re- quirements. It is en- dowed with the stamina and strength attained by con- centrated ability. This background of un- equalled experience, re- sources and facilities is employed today by manu- facturers in every field where the internal combus- tion engine is the source of power. It is a guarantee of worthy performance and unending satisfaction. CONTINENTAL MOTORS CORPORATION Offices: Detroit, Mich., U. S. A. Factories: Detroit and Muskegon DEPENDABLE POWER FOR Passenger Commercial Bus industrial Marine Airplane ontinenta Motors

Page 112

110 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “Light housekeeping” “a means short hours” : FLOOR POLIS a FI R POLISHER . This amazing accessory at only $10 extra August 20,1927 EEPING house from K morning till night. That was housekeeping in the old days. But today, household tasks can be dis- posed of quickly—yet be well done. With a Premier Duplex, you can make light of the heaviest household task of all —cleaning. Its double action does your work, thoroughly and quickly. A motor- driven brush sweeps up litter and loosens grit. Then strong suction gets them. With two cleaning actions working together, the Premier Duplex gets a// the dirt. And it adds nothing to household tasks. It needs no oiling, for both brush and motor are ball bearing. The Premier Duplex will lift cleaning responsibilities from yourshoulders—start you on the path to “light housekeeping” and long leisure. e . . ELECTRIC VACUUM CLEANER CO., INC. Dept. 508 Cleveland, Ohio Manufactured and distributed in Canada by the Premier Vacuum Cleaner Co., Ltd., General Offices, Toronto. Sold over the entire world, outside of the U. S. and Canada, by the International General Electric Co., Inc., Schenectady, New York.

Page 113

a eee a oo (Continued from Page 106 wart on the nose has changed the person- ality of many an American man or woman. 4 thousand such individuals, selected at random throughout the country, carefull y studied, might in the end enable a foreigner to arrive at one dim, tentative, general opinion— provided, of course, that he had lived in America for thirty years. Furthermore, even if you are in a posi- tion to form general opinions, there are.two ways of looking at any country. The way you choose depends upon your tempera- ment. If you beli you disregard as much as you can the fi element of that small element inevitable, under present-day conditions, | », ZIoss ¢ And then you say to ‘This is what this country is I ve all is for the worst, country—invariably a and concentrate upon the yoursell, coming to. These fine people do not count. Eventu- ally they will be submerged by all this vul- garity and selfish stupidity. There are signs of this everywhere.” The other way to regard any country is to deprecate and condemn the large gross element, and be sorry it exists, but at the same time to concentrate upon the small, fine element, which after all is the flowerin of the nation. Is it decreasing or increasing? Mr. Wells thinks definitely it is increasing, except in America; where, as far as I can make out, he recognizes no fine, small ele- ment at all. Their fate is to become scarcer. Lest They Forget In all other ways a fundamental optimist, in this way only is he a fundamental pes- simist—meaning by fundamental optimist a man who, however much he may dislike the present, be ves good is on the in- crease, as opposed to a man who, however much he may enjoy the present, thinks evil will eventually win. Indeed, the funda- mental optimist is at times a dreary fellow, as both Mr. Wells and myself frequently are; while the fundamental pessimist is frequently a cheery one, since fundamental pessimism is usually founded on a delight with yourself because of a vast contempt for others. That Mr. Wells should be pes- simistic about America would indicate, therefore, that in this respect his conclu- sions are more the result of bias than rea- son. How otherwise, and using personal instances, could he think that all American statesmen look like Colonel House, with such handsome senators as Mr. Pepper and fox-hunting Wadsworth? How otherwise, with his own countless Utopias ending in conclusions ‘‘as trite as magazine articles,” could he sneer at Woodrow Wilson for the same failing? Nor is it odd that he finds the American watchful and awkward in his presence. Nations are apt to be watchful and awkward in the presence of the English. Mr. Wells himself says that, due to the public schools and certain traditions, Eng- land has in the last hundred years produced a type utterly baffling to other nationalities and completely alien to what he calls “the natural Englishman.” How is that for a theory of monstrosity? Moreover, in speaking of Woodrow Wil- son, Mr. Wells forgets. President Wilson’s mission would have been more successful had he, on the one side, been more tactful with his American enemies, and had Lloyd George and Mon- Possibly ex- sieur Clemenceau, on the other, and f more important side, been a trifle more ingenuous. The news that Lloyd George and Monsieur Clemenceau, and all the rest of Europe, were regarding Woodrow Wilson s the innocent, idealistic, easily fooled iat Mr. Wells announces America in a comparatively schoolmaster tl he was, reached snort time. Most Europeans seem to have a genius for forgetting. Last summer the Conti- nental edition of the Daily Mail ran for two weeks on its front page two columns entitled, Facing the Facts. The heading of these two columns was the simple word, Usury — the first two letters printed in extra rge type, thus: U.S. The principal point THE SATURDAY made was that England could not forgive America forallowing England to fight Amer as battles for one ‘ ri t it i} i England offered us transport; all Englist newspaperme! Know that tt transp + Was not giver inthi the breaking ol! the Eng h Fifth Arn the pring of 1918 and a English newspape KNOW that because tl transport was not give we took to bullding ynthet ships i quantitie tne need as Carriers ol materiais. Subsequently Lord Rothemere dismissed incontinently the editor of the European Daily Mail, Saying he had never been given the slightest aut! to launch so ou a campaign. strange news to any ex- newspaperman. The English may have private lives, but at time they also Nave secret lives, lit by lurid flashes of publicity Neither is ‘“‘ America the creditor” an op- portune phrase. To this the American can justly retort that ‘‘ America the creditor” has been the most fortunate symbol Eng- lish trade has picked up in many a year and that English trade has not neglected its op- portunities. When the war ended, America was the greatest country in the world, financially, politically today it 1s the greatest fiinar and commercially; ially. It is well known that English statesmen are the most adroit there are; they have a history of adroitness. Beside them the French and the Americans are children. What could have been cleverer than to have come over 2 set a high limit to your capacity to pay, if after- ward you dashed home and asked every here as the key nation and to h other nation if they wished to deal wit} ‘the Shylock, the blood-money man across the seas’ I am not saying that this was the intention; I am merely saying that this was how things worked out. And I am merely saying that if the European nations wished America to forgive their debts, this was a poor way of going about it. Little Hope for Change At all events, and however I may feel personally about the debt imbroglio—and I am not giving my private opinions here I am exceedingly tired, in company with other American citizens, of being individu: doubt there are a great many Englishmen who object strenuously to the way King re sponsi George creases his trousers; and I say this with due respect, for he is a fine man and I do not feel toward h m as Mr. We lls dot but I do not believe these Englishmer i immediately change t! ondition short of revolution. By maintaining their position, by doing what little they can, In a hundred EVENING POST ( ) »somet y iY happe it not , I N f omes ! n e fa : ‘ it ¢ rngiand t exe ed hon n of ¢ if \ ive jared King George to come to that exciting cit ind Who rng A egarded as one of yur handsomer andr istatesmer At all event ne .'s 1 grayish- laced But Ame a some reason, re ised to become « ted over the speech, a ‘ igo, of ¢ Norwood, M.A., D.Litt eadmaster ¢ H vw Ss ool, to whom I ive already refe 1. Mayor Thompson ! \ lite as Ir y degree is Mr. No wood, but |} diction ynsiderably less tautological. On the other hand, Mr. ompson is not so r iered in America a M No Vood nt via | Erudite Historical Comments Mr. Norwood, addressing the eighty- second annual meeting of the London Cen- in tral Y. M. C. A., Tottenham Court Road W. C. 1., spoke as follows “The League of Nations is not perfect, and it has just iffered a bad setback *Abolist t y the unt! King, lor the Locarno spirit is dead and buried A bad thing for the world if that is true, for the Locarno spirit is the spirit of Christ. I ask you as Christian men not to abandon your support of the League of Nations because in the fir whicn ar its existence elements tten have come to the front and stultified it. It may be monstrous —indeed, it is monstrous—that a country in the New World, far removed and by no means in the front rank, should negative the attempt of Europe to reach peace and settlement. It er taunt of the saying that it may be that Europe will re- may seem to Justily that bit lapse into barbarism before America has had time to emerge from it.”’ Mr. Norwood, you see, does not even More- over, like most people who assume to speal for the Deity, } sees only one side of the question. God ap- parently has never crossed the Atlantic. Besides, one might grant us size or material importance. 1e speaks for a Deity who iquire without exag- l Europe, or any other geration just wh place, for that matter, emerged, in the things that really count, from barbarism? The New Age Encyclopedia published by Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Company, Ltd., London, 192 Kent and 5, has, on Page 122, Volume Nine, this choice bit of history: ‘St. Mihiel. This was the first impor- tant action in the war undertaken by the American Army separately. Success was more cheaply attained than might other- wise have been the case, for the Germans were themselves on the point of evacuating the salient. By anticipating this move the Allies reaped an immediate and profitable victory. The forty-mile front was held by six weak German divisions—about fifty thousand men—with two divisions in re- erve. Pershing’s First American Army had six d ns and two in reserve, and as Ame in division includes thirty thou i trooy W be seen that the atta ers were ve ming foree But they Valley Creek Near Valley Forge, Pennsylvania na beside the a t ¢ rrenc? troc together wit nea entratio ; artille i ut a t nd tani ana »O Strang how ¢ the |} h forge . the i t t “wr r t ‘ ~ . a 0 - the athad tant In Notre Dame le Par ere ‘ the most impressive table in , , It f stone and t en ned wit the iy the arte f (Great | tair It na and or tare the w | th r iY t ove an mer t Brit hr yt t } } ‘ Ay et ast sur me the Fre nh pape were 1 wit ed t “A if mping ! ‘ man and Ame an togethe we were asked how we lared come to Frar wit money w hie we 10) 5 YT ne ia France id give esh and | Only in gold! When England or Frane: talks about us in such a way, I remember the four million and a half American sol diers who were raised in a year and a half of warfare. The one hundred and twenty-six thousand American dead yt a bad record ior so short a time ind the men whod ed n camp or hospital died just as surely as the thirty-seven thousand or so who died battle the thousands of Americans still ir hospitals; several friends w ever W adays occas onaiy snriek in their sieep be . ¢ hh] 1 of ¢} cause they are wading in the blood of the Argonne; a whole generation of American boys pretty nearly ruined for the term of its life And I remember how. even on this side, I saw the coffins piled ten deep from mf } luenza and measles. Only in goid! This is not sentimentality, merely de- No, it does not do to call rm, ne cer make generalizations be conv inced, but not those \ about. Let me, in conclusion, show Mr. Wells and his coadjutors just now some hypothetical American could describe Eng- land—even a well-intentioned American; that is, if he wished to dwell solely on Eng- lish follies and vices and not on English virtues—and yet say nothing that was un- true and nothing that, on the other hand, was just. It would be rather in the spirit of the Scotchman who, after damning everything French, added, ‘And that from a well-wisher, too.”’ The description will sound strange to English ears, coming from American lips. I doubt if it has been done often enough. A Distorted Picture Let us begin. I know England better than Mr. Wells knows America, although I can't be quite as sweeping as he or Aldous Huxley, since my mind works naturally in categories. I am bound to divide the Eng- lish into classes. I will little while the part of the h American Very well, then. I despise the Engl upper classes. I think they are the stupid , however, play for a ypott etical most conventional, silliest and least pro gressive upper ¢ lasses I have ever met, and above all, the most i The US nes are as convent ind inhuman in ‘tues. They are the o people I know who delight in rudeness. But they are illies; for if you challenge them they wilt [I understand the Frenchman, the Italian and the Spaniard t I don’t understand the Englishman, and no et Lor No lo I care to. He all in shadow save f flashes of ulgarit snobt ness rueit ind meanness. He has no honesty abou money and no honor about wome He ( Stantly subje ed to a ntegrating There are half a dozen periodicals d ted solely to de g } omings ar goings and to printing photograpt hin He cannot eat a sandw i e meet without being snapshotted I am t l seeing him being married under an ar swords and making one of a party formed for the purpose of shooting tame bird Far from be ng irar is he imagines hir

Page 114

and he is so hedged in by tradition and ac- cepted standards that what he says means very little anyhow. His dialect is more sparse than any other human being, save the Eskimo, as Ernest Hemingway aptly remarks, and he has no metaphors whatso- ever; simply slang phrases, horribly bent and flattened by excessive use. The lover wrung to ecstasy may say, “You're a de- cent little vixen.”’ The phrase for all occa- sions seems to be “‘Rather!’’ And since we are going into things deeply, I might add that I particularly dislike the fact that the English upper classes so seldom change their underclothes, when they wear any. I do not like the custom of playing a game all afternoon and then coming in and taking a bath and putting on again what you just took off In other words, English society, to the mind of the hypothetical American, seems a butlers’ society—a society where a man is judged more by his clothes than by his mind or his manners or his grace. This American, for instance, knows of no other great city in the world, save London, where a decent man cannot enter any restaurant he wants after dark without evening clothes. In Paris or New York it is taken for granted that a gentieman wears evening clothes if he wants to, or if he hasn’t them on, that there is some good reason for the lack; but the Englishman apparently does not know a gentleman unless he wears a white tie. Here then is a country run by tailors for tailors who have left off tailoring to become pee rs. As to the English middle classes But I will stop. I cannot talk about the English middle classes lest I think too much of adenoidal teeth and a sickening familiarity; nor will I talk about the English lower classes lest a vision of the gray, sodden wastes of London and Manchester come up to me, and the sweet, sickish smell of gin. In faet, I will not go on at all, for what Iam doing is absurd, insulting and impertinent, even if the English visitor to America does not know it. England has many sides to her. Indeed, I still think, as I have always thought, that the future of the world lies, and must lie, with the English-speaking When I was young I imagined this union might be effected by sympathy and by some such talk as ‘‘ hands across the sea.’’ Now I know it cannot be done that way. Let aman mention “‘ hands across the sea’ now and watch what happens to him. If he is not derided as a sentimentalist he will be hissed as a hypocrite. A new ap- proach is necessary, and that is what I have been attempting. If the English cannot like us, they must at least be made to respect us. At all events, of one thing I am certain and will always be certain: When it comes to deep going the English and Americans understand each other better than they understand anyone else. On the surface the French and the Americans are happier in each other’s company, because both nations ap- preciate the value of politeness, but in a crisis politeness is not what counts. I have always been sure that if you lock an Eng- lishman and an American up together where they can’t get out, inside of a week, if they haven't killed each other, they will emerge fast friends. And now we come to the real reasons why Mr. Wells and the rest of them fall into such gross errors, and one of these reasons is also the reason, referred to before, why, if any country develops a world mind, it will be America 1 peoples Europe's One Interest For one European who has visited Amer- a there are a hundred Americans who have visited Europe; for one European anything about America, there are a hundred Americans who know a great deal about Europe. To begin with, most Americans are Europeans comparatively recently transplanted. Mr. Wells cannot it us off and make a separate race of mon- sters out of us. Even three hundred years s not enough to clear racial traditions and who knows THE SATURDAY folkways out of a man’s unconsciousness, and consciously there is not an American family of the educated or semi-educated classes which does not bear in mind knowl- edge of its particular European descent, near or distant. But that is by no means all. American children are brought up on European classics, European fairy tales, European myths. All great European books are immediately translated into English and sold in America. American papers carry an immense amount of foreign news; European papers carry very little Amer- ican news, and most of that, canards. Con- trary to common opinion and despite the insularity and laziness of the average American, he is, none the less—whether he knows it or not—much more interested in Europe, and that in a more intelligent fashion, than is the European interested in him or his country. Every year about two hundred thousand Americans go to Europe who have never been there before. On his part, the average European is in- terested in only one American thing, and that is American money. The eagerness of the lower classes to come to America has only one motive: the visits of the business classes have only one purpose; the conclu- sions of the upper classes are formed before they enter. America means gold to Europe and has meant that since the conquistadors of Cortés. Surely not a tactful way to ap- proach any race; and if the European finds the American more and more inclined to speak only with his wealth, and that in a domineering fashion, he has only himself to blame, since he has taught the American that that is the way to make the European come to his call. The American is a little weary of trying to make the European love him for himself alone. Egocentric Parenthood The average European does not read American books, except when, as in the case of Elmer Gantry, Babbitt and An American Tragedy, they flatter his preconceived no- tions. He does not read American newspa- pers or reviews; he does not buy American paintings; he knows nothing and cares less about the inner heart of America; and, most important of all, he seldom meets the American upon the basis on which he meets all other white races. To get along with the average Englishman, the American has either to fight, keep quiet, or else allow himself to be regarded as an exotic pet. English society is sprinkled with exotic American pets. They take the place of the dwarfs of the eighteenth century. Europe stands in regard to America ex- actly in the position—not uncommon— of many parents toward their children. Old age has a tendency to become disinterested, to become even more egocentric than youth, to become cold and selfish. There are a good many old people who are aware of their offspring only for what their off- spring can bring them. But that is never true of the offspring. Children invariably bear toward their parents a sentimental interest, no matter how inaptly expressed or apparently quiescent, or even, as often happens, emerging in the shape of hatred and rebellion. At least half of the American population expects to go to Europe at one time or an- other, and when they go, spread out before them, in architecture, in art, in countless ways, is the soul of Europe from the begin- ning. Many, to be sure, fail to assimilate any of this, but the vast majority assimi- lates a great deal. In short, the American, all save those of Oriental or African descent, is a European with something added, while the European can never be an American unless actually he becomes one. Perhaps this is the reason why certain Americans seem to me funda- mentally older souled than any Europeans. They have a certain shining benevolence, a rather beautiful humbleness never found in a European. I do not mean that there are not millions of loud and vulgar and un- pleasant Americans. I am speaking of an especial, gently bred type. And even those EVENING POST not so gently bred are willing by the myri- ads to spend patient and humble years trying to learn all that England and France and Italy and Germany can give them. Something very fine has come and is coming from this patience and humbleness. Meanwhile many Americans can under- stand Europe; no European can understand America—not completely—not even Key- serling or Bertrand Russell. Reason Number Two why no foreigner can understand us—least of all an English- man—is that at the very beginning all for- eigners make concerning us a denial they make toward no other country—they deny us all semblance of class, using the word “class” in a sensible way. No wonder Mr. Wells is able to attack our universities be- cause, in An American Tragedy, a bell boy commits a murder. No doubt he imagines that Mr. Lowell of Harvard is merely a bell boy gone good. Naturally, therefore, no description of America is typical or realistic unless it is written in a language which the foreigner chooses to think is American and unless it describes people the like of whom he has never known before. Again, this is espe- cially true of the Englishman, since his an- cestors invented the English language and left it to him, apparently, in secret patent. An American book which is not exotic— and as a rule, vulgarly exotic—is not American, but merely an imitation of some- thing European. It may have to do only with America; it may describe accurately the American scene, American characters, American psychology; it may have the mys- terious and individual pulse of America in it; but none the less, it is an imitation. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, for instance, is American; The Lost Lady is not. Why not both? The American writer is in a predica- ment. Having been born to speak and write English, he is not supposed to do either. I have before me a clipping from the Lon- don Spectator, headed The Blatant Beast in America. Yes, yes, you have guessed it. It is a review of Elmer Gantry. “The novelists of the United States are a distinguished company,’ writes the re- viewer. ‘“‘Some are still European in their souls and styles. A transatlantic birth has but given anew twist to their petals, a sharp flavor to their honey, something hybrid, even morbid, to their grace. Christopher Morley, Elinor Wylie, Joseph Hergesheimer, James Branch Cabell are varying examples. But another group—Sherwood Anderson, Theodore Dreiser, Sinclair Lewis, Ruth Suckow in her minor mode-——have been de- veloped from American conditions and are absorbed in American affairs.” The People Who are America In other words, if an American describes gentle people going about their compara- tively well-bred ways in a country that af- ter all is Anglo-Saxon by tradition, custom, speech and law, if by no means by blood, he cannot be talking about Americans or thinking in American. But if he describes— and this is not said in disparagement of the writers involved—a lecherous scoundrel, a murderous bell boy, a hypocritical business man, or a Middle Westerner blackly drunk with sex, there, then, is the real America. The people who on the whole most decidedly run America—the American educated classes—do not count, for it is obvious that there can’t be any gentle people in America going about their comparatively well-bred ways since, in America, there are no gentle people—they all live in Europe. Undoubtedly American life is fluid; un- doubtedly the country was founded on the supposition that all men, as much as is hu- manly possible, should have an equal op- portunity; but undoubtedly America, like every other nation in the world, is marked by all the perplexing differences of human society. Classisinescapable. It is inherent in human affairs. If three men were cast away upon a desert island, within six months there would be class. Men are not born equally gracious, equally brave, August 20,1927 equally intelligent. Nor is there any na- tion in which the gracious, the brave and the intelligent are not on the whole, despite the smallness of their numbers, the ruling element and the element to which all other elements, consciously or unconsciously. look up. Moreover. Mr. Wells, of all peo- ple, should know that there is no social or political theory intrinsically so aristocratic as the democratic one. The third and final reason why, not this time the foreigner in general, but the Eng- lishman solely, can never hope to under- stand America, is because the Englishman has always persisted and will continue to persist in his delusion that Americans are close to him in blood. We are not allowed a common speech or ideas in common, but we must share a common lineage. As a result, to all the other irritations involved, there is added the irritation a father always feels toward a self-willed son. A Lesson From Spain We are not English—only a small per cent of us. The English blood in America is filtered thin. But we are Celtic—a vast number ofus. Onthewhole, weare a Celtic, or, in much smaller proportions, a Teu- tonic people, living, as said before, under Anglo-Saxon traditions, customs, speech and laws. When Mr. Wells understands the Irish, the Scotch, the Welsh, the Germans and the Scandinavians—something no Eng- lishman has ever done—he may begin to understand us, but not until then. Under- standing the Frenchman won't help him a bit, unless, among the French, he includes the Bretons. Even in his own land I doubt if the Cornishman likes Mr. Wells unreserv- edly. Mr. Wells is too Anglo-Saxon, too cocksure, too bland, even if his name has in it a trace of Cornwall. I am reminded of what a Turk said to me a little while ago. I had been praising Kemal Pasha. He touched his chest and head, and said, “‘Thank you to God, sir. And now, if you will all leave us alone for a little while we will try to do something.” The Spanish are a wise race. For cen- turies they have lived in the midst of Eu- rope, and for the past two hundred years they have not allowed this to bother them in the least. They travel about a great deal, they are always polite, smiling, good- humored; utterly Spanish and utterly self- contained. If the rest of Europe does not like them, that is Europe’s fault. Occa- sionally they eat with their knives; they are not ashamed. Just at present I am in a place fifteen hundred miles from New York and almost five thousand from England —to be exact, in the northwestern corner of Yellowstone Park. I am sitting in a most comfortable hotel lobby and all about me are exceed- ingly polite and pleasant bell boys and a multitude of tourists who, for the most part, are as soft-spoken, as well-mannered, as well dressed as any I have seen, and infi- nitely more patient. And it is difficult to be pretty and patient as a tourist. To the north, south, east and west is wilderness; range after range of uninhabited moun- tains. Fifty-seven years ago there was nothing here at all, for the Indians feared this stretch of country and kept out of it. Instead of wondering why we have done so little, Mr. Wells and the shade of Henry James might profitably pass their time won- dering how we have managed to doso much. The greatest misfortune that ever befell America was when it came to be regarded as a phenomenon, a great experiment, a melting pot—the last of which it never was and now is prevented from being by law. If our visitors would simply regard us as a nation of one hundred and twenty mil- lions, marked, as is every nation, by all strata of human class and intelligence, by all human virtues and vices and follies, a nation doing on the whole the best it can, they would understand us better. It is the European who is inhuman when he approaches America, not the American who is inhuman—unless outrageously ap- proached. _.S ee -eEE . ee — [eee

Page 115

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1i3 . = > ”" —— mack a ~™ we — istinct-.. as the separate notes —— —— ~ _.S _— = Ee: —— — te ae ee of a song y , + these flavors that are mingled HAT WOMAN has not known this thrill? When the success of some new dish is certain—when the family lingers at table and forgets to hurry? Back of it all, no single thing she merely bought—but her own handiwork: a linking of taste to taste, to create some wholly new delight. “Seldom,” writes one noted authority, “ does our greatest pleasure come from foods just as nature yields them.” How true this is of one food we all enjoy! From many distant lands, hundreds of different kinds and grades of coffee have been brought to us for years. Flavors in some as distinct as the separate notes of a song. Others with differences almost too fine to taste. Yet no one of these has ever pleased the critical people throughout the entire coun- try. It isa rich mingling of flavors—a spe- cial blend from the old South that has won the first real nation-wide fame that ever came to a coffee. The largest selling coffee in the United States The special shade of mellow goodness which Joel Cheek created years ago in old Ten- nessee, and which delighted the great families of Dixie, is today swiftly changing the habits of a nation. From New York to Los Angeles, Maxwell House Coffee is pleasing more people than any other coffee ever offered for sale. A new experience awaits you. When you pour your first cup of this blend, when you taste its smooth, full-bodied liquor, you will realize why Maxwell House Coffee has become so famous. There is new pleasure at breakfast and dinner, in its special, mellow goodness. Your grocer has Maxwell House Coffee in sealed blue tins. Cheek-Neal Coffee Company, Nashville, Houston, Jacksonville, Richmond, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago. MaxweELL House Cor FEE It is pleasing more people than any other coffee ever offered for sale

Page 116

lost in the forest; and being lost, he remem- bered, was primarily a state of mind, a sur- render to blind fear, a relapse to panic. He could see where she had run this way and that way, where she had torn foolishly through briers and underbrush, where she had stumbled weakly over a rock ledge, where she had staggered on and fallen and left a small splotech of blood on the dried caribou moss across which she had col- lapsed. But she had gone on again, like a wounded doe, with no sense of direction and no lucid thought of destination. He knew, as he followed those uncertain steps, that she could not be far ahead of him. But his brow knitted as he studied the signs she had left behind her. They made up a record of struggle that was both determined and desperate. She was, he could see, humiliatingly intent on getting away from him. It was not easy for him to understand white women. And she might be still unwilling, whatever her straits, to have him rejoin her. But in that, he remembered, he had no choice. And it would be settled now before much more ground was covered, for he could see by the freshness of the tracks that he was close on her heels. He even shouted from time to time, and stood motionless, straining his ears for some answering call. But no answer came back to him. So he pressed on, moody and silent, un- conscious of his own hunger, of the wood- land heat that left his face wet with sweat. He looked up once, sniffing at the pearl- misted air like an animal, and still again the frown deepened between his crow-black level eyebrows as he stared up at the sky that was now more brazen than blue. ‘No wind!” he muttered gratefully. For that faintly modifying light, that indefinite pearl mist in the air, meant fire somewhere in the distance. And this, he knew, was not the time and place for bush fires. So he hastened his steps as he followed the erratic trail through bracken and thicket and jack pine, and then on through shadowy and clean-floored spruce lands, where the resinous boles stood so close that they left little room for undergrowth. Then, just beyond a rock shelf in the thinning timber, he found her. He found her fallen forward on her face, half panting and half sobbing with helplessness. She did not seem to know him at first, and even after he had carried water to her and bathed her scratched and bloodstained face, she remained indifferent to his pres- ence, j That torpor of listlessness remained with her until he had carried her to a more com- fourtable resting place and fed her from his ration pack and explained to her that he was taking her back to her own people. He let her sleep for an hour, sitting be- side her and studying her face as she slum- bered. She was no longer entirely lovely to look upon; but her relaxed body, for all its tattered clothing and lacerated skin and deep-shadowed face, left him with his habitual touch of awe when in her presence. He was still in some way afraid of her, as he had always been afraid of her. She was, after all, not of his race and his world. And he had a nameless fear of her complexities, just as he knew a nameless discomfort in studying the overintricate machinery of the white man, his mysteriously propelled automobiles and his incredible flying ma- chines. She was, like them, intricately and delicately beautiful. But she was beyond his comprehension. And now, even with that trampled air of exhaustion hanging over her, she was wonderful to look upon, to be near, if only for another day. But Black Arrow was not at peace with his own soul. He stirred uneasily at the end of an hour and looked up at the after- noon sun that shone less opulently down through the pearl mist slowly deepening in the sky. He noticed for the first time a rising breeze that stirred the spruce tops and gave birth to a faint sighing sound in THE SATURDAY their lower branches. And his face dark- ened as he sniffed, animal-like, at the thin but pungent odor that gave birth to a vague disquiet in his body. He wakened her at that, and was re- lieved to find her, once she had groped her way back to consciousness, both lucid and self-possessed. ‘‘We must go on,” he re- minded her. “Ts it late?’’ she asked, with a perplexed look at the more pallid afternoon light about her. “‘No, but there’s a bush fire to the north of us and we’ve got to get through to open water.” “What open water?’’ she asked, still frowning. “There’s Half-Moon Lake ahead of us,” he explained. “‘We ought to make that. We'll be all right there, no matter what happens.” ““What could happen?” she asked, as she struggled to her feet. Black Arrow’s shrug was an evasive one. “T’ve a canoe cached at Half-Moon—an old canoe I use for my fishing. That’ll make it easier for us to go on to Wapanapi. And if we can’t get to Half-Moon, we can at least get to Lac Roulette and raft over.”’ “All right,’’ she said, quietly enough. But she was not unconscious, a moment later, of his anxious glance back over his shoulder. ‘“‘Where is that fire?’’ she de- manded. “It’s away back,” averred Black Arrow. “Ts there any danger?”’ she questioned, stopping short and fixing her gaze on the other’s barricaded face. “‘Not unless this wind gets stronger,”’ was his answer. ‘‘But I want to be on the safe side. And once we get the canoe it will be easier for you.” She did not seem entirely satisfied with this. ‘‘But if fire comes,’’ she persisted, “what can we do?” “Just what we’re doing—get out to open water.” “But didn’t I hear someone say that peo- ple can back-fire in cases like that?”’ “This timber,’’ he explained, as they forged on, “‘is too heavy for that. It takes time—time to burn up trees of this size, time to die down and clear up. And it won't be needed, anyway.” He spoke casually, and he tried to ap- pear casual as he turned to lift her over a windfall. But as he glanced up at the gray- ing sky he was disturbed to see a flock of wild birds streaming southward, a pro- longing army of them, a migration of them, emitting unfamiliar calls as they went, big birds and small birds together, in a new- found armistice of unrest. “It reminds me of an eclipse,” said the white woman, as they stopped knee-deep in a brawling brook to drink of the root- tinctured water. And from the open rock tops beyond the brook she stopped to look back. “T can smell smoke,” she cried. ‘And that wind is getting stronger.”” She panted on, however, instinctively responding to his hurried pace. “How far away is that lake?” she asked, with her hand pressed against her side. “Not far,’ he equivocated. ‘Are you tired?” “Not very,’’ was her adequately cour- ageous response. But in spite of herself, she was lagging a little behind him. “IT can carry you when you want it,’’ he reminded her. She started to laugh at that, acidly, but the laugh died on her lips. “Is it that bad?”’ she asked. To that question Black Arrow essayed no reply. He was disheartened at the mo- ment by the discovery of several animals of the wild trotting determinedlyialong in the same direction, running steadily southward, preoccupied with a common impulse, ob- livious of one another, and of even that ancestral enemy known as man. Janet leaned against a tree trunk, grateful for her moment's rest, when he stopped abruptly WHITE HANDS (Continued from Page 32) EVENING POST to look back and listen. He seemed re- assured by what he heard or failed to hear. “Can you keep on?”’ he asked, as they went plunging down a gray-misted alley- way fringed with broom-top spruce. “‘Sure,’”’ she said with forced lightness. But she was glad enough by this time to save her breath. Yet sharp as seemed the tightening band about her straining lungs, she was startled the next moment to glimpse a flurry of red deer through the ghostly tree trunks—red deer heading south. The sun, she saw, was entirely blotted out. And a little later, through the unearthly gray twilight, she made out a she bear and her cubs, scuffling southward. Everything, in fact, was traveling south- ward with the wind. Then came two foxes, lean and sinewed and self-contained, with- out even a side glance at the two humans staggering along behind them. And on their heels loped a gray flutter of hares, thinking only of the wider and redder enemy behind them. Even astodgy beaver, waddling from side to side as it forced speed from its short legs, succeeded in out- distancing the panting woman. “We must go faster,” Black Arrow was calling back to her. She made an effort to call out “All right,”’ but the words failed to form them- selves. She was wondering, with a dreamy sort of unconcern, just when her heart would burst. She could feel the tang of smoke in her throat, biting sharper. But she refused to give up. She went stumbling on after the forward-bent malodorous figure in front of her, veering when he veered, mopping the salt sweat from her eyes as she ran. She was thinking of water by this time, of cooling and freshening and dark-green water, of runneling and gur- gling and singing water crowned with fairy arcs of mist, of drenching and thunderous breakers on a sandy beach, crested with foam and tumbling blue-green over her panting body. And then the inevitable happened. The leaden agony of weariness crept up from her legs to her body, from her body to her brain, and she fell forward in her tracks with a little moan of surrender. She lay very still, her breast pumping. Black Arrow had to help her to her feet and hold her up. He could feel her body shake against his own. “I'll have to carry you,” he said. He spoke huskily but quietly, and his self-possession shamed her into drawing back from his grasp. “No, no,”’ she gasped. ‘‘ Just a moment.” She stood fighting to regain her breath, setting her jaw as she motioned for him to go on again. But the smoke bothered her more and more, and her vision was no longer clear. She knew well enough what was be- hind them by this time, and she pictured to herself what it would be like to die by fire, to have a living wave of it sweep over you, as a breaker sweeps over a beach idler. It wouldn’t last long, of course, but it would be hell for a moment. The mere thought of it gave her a brief second wind of panic. But she could no longer be sure of her foot- ing, and she feared at any moment that she might fall again. So she reached out, in her dilemma, to clutch for the foolish beaded belt of her guide. She found it and pawed at it blindly, but her fingers were without the strength to close on that sustaining girdle, and once more she fell. “T can’t do it!”’ she gasped, her wet face pressed close to the cooling club moss where she lay. “Don’t wait for me. I’m not— not worth it.” “I must carry you now,” proclaimed Black Arrow, after one quick glance back over his shoulder. “No, no!’’ she panted. ‘‘Go on!” But Black Arrow refused to go on. “We can make Lac Roulette,”’ he said, as he stopped to pick her up, “‘and that will save us.”’ She shuddered against his shoulder as a new sound came to her ears. It was some- thing more than the mere sound of wind. August 20,1927 It was a muffled roar shot through with a fainter crackling noise, like the far-off rat- tle of musketry. And instead of a vague and enveloping gray pall now, the smoke was a wide and driving current of striated murk, rolling up on them as they went. She could see, when she lifted her head, that the upper billows had taken on a faint tinge of red. That meant fire, the reflection of fire, and it sent a new tingle of terror through her tired body. She understood then why the air was thick with dragon flies, with moths, with unknown insects, all traveling in the same direction, all in flight before that pursuing wall of destruction. She could even make out a snowy owl, dazed and silent in its flight, drifting on- ward through the dark tree trunks, and it, too, was traveling southward. The white woman no longer revolted against the ignominy of her position, where the moist-shirted Indian had flung her so unceremoniously across his shoulder. He was running now, with a stride a little longer than a dogtrot, bent forward from the waist, so that her arms lay along his wet back and she could twine her fingers in under his beaded belt and steady her body against the shock of his slowly accel- erated steps. They were descending a long valley slope, clean-floored as a park, with a pooled stream at its bottom. As they plunged into this stream a marten swam beside them, so intent on escape that it went oblivious of their presence. Black Arrow did not stop to drink, as she had hoped. He did not even slacken ‘his pace, as he went up the opposing slope. But at the crest of the slope he wavered a little and came to a stop. She slipped from his shoulder, as he did so, and was glad to lie in a tumbled heap at his feet as he leaned against a tree trunk panting. “Come on!’’ he commanded, almost roughly, as he groped for her in the gray light. ‘‘We’ve got to make it!” “‘T can go,”’ she gasped, fighting her way to her feet. ““Goon! Don’t carry me!”’ He did not argue about it, for across the valley they had just traversed they could see an ominous dull crown of flame that ripened even as they looked into a living wall of fire, a rolling and roaring and seeth- ing wall that snatched writhing tree tops into its black-and-red vortexes of fury and volleyed the heavens with glowing embers. The white woman turned away from it and ran. She ran with her hands before her, in a childlike attitude of expectation. But the goal she seemed to look for was not there, and she could not run far. Her throat burned and the strength oozed out of her legs. She knew that she would fall again, that no grimness of will could hold her up. She tried to call out to Black Ar- row, to tell him to keep on, to leave her behind. He must have heard that gurgle of despair, for he swung abruptly about and picked her up again. “I’m not worth it,” she said in a foolish little wail. ‘‘Don’t bother about me.” But he was fighting his way forward again, holding her, as he went, across his chest, as a woman carries a small child. He could not run so fast, thus burdened, but he was running with all his strength, with the ancestral doggedness of the hunter and tracker and coureur de bois, with the accumu- lated sullen pertinacity of the red-man blood that had brought him into the world. - “‘There’s water ahead!”’ he gasped, as he heard her repeated whimper of agony at the crackle and roar that seemed to be closing in around them. ‘ We’ll make it!” She wanted to believe him, but she knew it was too late. For already she could feel the blast of a hot and blighting wind on her face, she could see, from pine ridge to pine ridge on either side of them, the resin- ous timber give itself to that pursuing fury, throw itself into its maw and explode with fresh exultations of dancing crimson. But (Continued on Page 116) ~e POF ee _———— ! f ' , \

Page 117

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Again This Year all ten winning drivers in the Indianapolis 500-mile race used PERFECT CIRCLE Piston Rings - the same kind of rings that you should have installed in your car. evap bem celtemer:bar:belem bt mallets race Cars, the piston rings have exactly the same job to perform. PERFECT CIRCLE PISTON RINGS / y | WINNER IN. EVERY MAJOR RACE FOR FIVE YEARS }**= "My rapes se penn ed Perfect Cir Co a ssion and po Regulating rings throughout Indianapolis race giving perfect satisfaction for entirc five hundred miles. Y our rings are the last word in piston ring equipment.” —George Souders k=: aes S at - Pestect Circle = and Oil-Rezgulating — os ier Miller Special. Passed no as Ser pleneae See Tings are the only thing con- mected with racing that I can 34 "Finished third in Indianapolis race with Miller Special using Perfect Circle Oil-Regu- lating and Compression rings which performed wonderfully.” —Anthony Gulotta ECAR 4th performa Perfect Cir or o_ Regulating and Compression tings in Jynx Spccial through entire Indianapolis race.” —Wilbur Shaw th" am pleased to say I used Perfect Circle Oil-Regulating and Compression rings in my Due- senberg Special. They indeed helped me to win fifth place at Indianapolis.” —Dave Evans 6h rings were in all four Cooper Specials at Indianapolis where Bob McDonogh (shown at right) finished sixth. I have tried other 7 "Used Perfect Circle Compression and Oil- Regulating rings in en at Indianapolis —Eddie Hearne 8": *‘Of course I us ee: Ci psa nd Oil- iT teatliat ae ng my Detroit Special at Indianapolis. They are good enough for me always.” —Tommy Milton Oth'ss Perfect Circle Oil-Regulating and Compression rings in my Miller Special at Indianapolis race. Very satisfactory. Would use nothing else.” —Cliff Bergere Finished tenth in th’: hundred mile sin, Regulating and Compression tings. Your rings are v a a liable and I havr used them in all races I have driven in the last three years.” —Frank Elliot F.

Page 118

Years Young CFTHE FIRST Union Metal Columns were installed on the residence of the late Capt. D. H. Barger, Shawsville, Va., over twenty years ago. Today, these Columns are in excellent condition—as good as the day they were erected. That is the kind of service you should require from any Columns you buy. Why put up with splitting, warping and rotting troubles which are usually asso- ciated with inexpensive columns when durability such as this costs lictle or nothing extra. Send today for your copy of the handsome book No. 50 C, which explains Union Metal dura- bility and economy. In it you will find many helpful suggestions. UNION METAL COLUMNS THE UNION METAL MANUFACTURING Co. General Offices and Factory, Canton, Ohio Branches—-New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, St.Louis, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Jacksonville, Cleveland Pittsburgh Residence of the late Capt. D. H. Barger Shawsville, Va. : Union Metal Design No. 240 — modern all steel Doric. Because of tremendous pro- duction in stock sizes, this Column is extremely reasonable in price. Made diameters from 8 to 14° — herehis from sto 14-6. rion Metal Mfg. Co Canton, Ohio Please send me, postpaid, your new book on beautiful column entrances and per- golas Nam: Address THE SATURDAY | Continued from Page 114 | before she was quite conscious of it, they | had emerged from the heavy timber and were doubling along a twisted aisle floored with thin-fissured rock, an aisle that ended on a small open promontory. On the edge | of this promontory she saw a heavy-bodied | black bear standing solitary and monu- mental in the thick air. It looked prehis- toric and dreamlike, but it no longer amazed her. She could see it lift its hog- like snout and show a moist red throat within three feet of her, as it gave voice to a forlorn bellow of perplexity. But Black Arrow neither heeded it nor paused for it. He threw himself over the lip of rock and went tumbling and stagger- ing and sprawling down a long slope of loose pebbles, runneled and windrowed with sand, sometimes knee-deep in the rubble as he went. He lost control of himself as he reached the bottom, recovered himself and tumbled again. The two entangled bodies went rolling over and over until the force of their flight expended itself, leaving them lying on a cooling mattress of water sedge and lily pads along the shallow shore of a lake, across which, at the moment, a bull moose was snorting and threshing its pre- occupied way. = Janet could feel the water oozing up about her hot flesh, and the coolness of it, the soft wetness of it, was infinitely reliev- ing. She even turned half over, where her cheek lay on its surface as on a cushion, and sucked some of the tepid green liquid up through her parched lips. She was willing, she felt, to lie there forever and forever, to lie there and think of nothing. It disturbed her, accordingly, when she saw that Black Arrow was struggling to his feet. “We can’t stay here,”’ he was calling out to her. “‘There’ll be too much heat when this heavy timber burns.” He was reaching for her, but she seemed still reluctant to rise. “Can you swim?” he asked, as he glanced back over his shoulder. “No,” she told him, pressing her fevered arms into the cooling green water between the lily pads. “Then, quick,”” he commanded, with an- other glance along the misted shore line. She pulled herself together, kneeling in the leafy shore water as she looked up at him. Her mind was clearer by this time, and the grayness of his haggard bronze face made her think of a last year’s oak leaf, a weathered oak leaf streaked with soot. “‘Aren’t we safe?”’ she asked, her voice coming husky from her smoke-scorched throat. “IT must get the canoe,” he told her. “You will need it to keep wide of the smoke clouds, and to ge on again when the fire passes.”’ “Can't we wait until then?”’ she gasped, shaken by a terror of being left alone. “But the canoe would burn,”’ he called back, as he staggered heavily along the bank slope. She saw, as her eye followed him, the wall of fire that was already sweep- ing along the rock ridge above them, send- ing gray-blue billows of smoke toward them as it raged. The sight of it sent a renewing wave of terror through her body. She even started after him, stumbling knee-deep through the root-tangled shore water. But she was dazed by heat and smoke and fell headlong across a piece of driftwood that lay in her path. She saw, as she struggled to keep her head above water, that it was a forked tree trunk, half afloat, and that she had fallen between its two sun-bleached branches. She let herself sink weakly for- ward into the narrowing angle between those two sustaining arms. The impact set the timber afloat and her numbed brain was prompted by the heat so close behind her to find her way out to open water. So she pushed her divided log free of the shore weeds, and when her feet could no longer touch bottom she paddled weakly with her hands, first on one side and then on the other. Through the billowing gray cloud that enveloped her came burning brands that fell hissing into the water. But these failed to trouble her. What troubled EVENING POST her most was the thought of Black Arrow, and next to that was the smoke—the ever- darkening smoke that stung her throat and made it hard for her to breathe. This smoke made it equally hard for her to see, and she fell to wondering how she would ever make out to meet Black Arrow in his canoe when he came. Then, as she floated on, splashing the cooling water over her head and shoulders and cupping her quavering hands before her face in a foolish effort to shut out the acrid pall that stung so sharply, stung right down to her very lungs, she fell to wondering why it was tak- ing Black Arrow so long. Someone, she remembered, had called him a lazy dog, a side-show Indian who had gone back to the blanket. Yet he had been anything but lazy that day. He had been a Trojan. He had come dangerously close to being a hero. He had been almost noble—yes, a noble red man, like the kind that she and other pop-eyed children had once read about, like the kind that Casey said no longer existed. He was a queer mixture, was Black Arrow, and she didn’t want anything to happen to him—not now. He’d been bigger, all along, than she had. He’d thought less about himself and hurt others less. And being a little un- steady in the head, she croaked aloud, with a grimace of hysteria: “You Lazarushian-leather, Gunga Din. .. . You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!’”’ She wondered where she had heard that. But she couldn’t remember, and she didn’t much care. She wished she could call up Peter, dependable old Peter, and tell him she wanted a tonic for her morals. She wished there was a bell she could reach so she could order a couple of pillows, and something to put on her hands, which were sore and scratched and swollen. They weren’t very pretty hands-any more. She could see them a little plainer now, and that meant the smoke was getting thinner. It meant that Black Arrow would have a better chance of seeing her in her crazy old tree crook when he came paddling his light canoe across that Lazarushian lake where all the poor little fishes were turning their tummies up to the sky. And she'd be doing the same if Black Arrow didn’t come soon. Or if it was her father who came, he'd cer- tainly not be able to complain about her hands. He’d be satisfied with 'em at last. But he wouldn’t be satisfied with her. No, he couldn’t be. She hadn’t played quite fair. She could see that, now that it was all pretty well over. “It’s a dirty deal I’ve been giving dad,”’ she croaked indifferently, as her drifting tree trunk grated against a gravel bar be- low the blackened and still smoldering shore line. But she was too indifferent to notice it. ‘“‘A dirty deal,’’ she repeated dreamily, as her head drooped wearily against the sun-bleached log crutch. xvVI ASEY, as he flew back with a tankful of gasoline and his cockpit half filled with five-gallon cans of extra fuel for Doctor Summers and his pilot, decided on a little detour of his own. It was still early and the air was crystal clear. He could easily scout over as far as Lac Lumier and be back in time for breakfast. Yet his spirits were none too light as he scanned the unrolling panorama of the pinelands. It was, he remembered, no place for a tenderfoot, and no place for a woman. Every day and every hour that passed would make the situation more serious, and if there was any finding to be done, he wanted to figure in it. His pulse quickened a little accordingly when, against the ruffled dark green of the forest floor far ahead of him, he thought he saw the faint gray drift of smoke from a camp fire. As he dropped down and swung over it, however, he discovered that it was nothing more than the floating spray above a mad little waterfall. Yet as he mounted again, swinging slowly eastward, he made out a second drift of gray against the August 20,1927 furred green of the landscape several miles to the north. It came from beside a small and silvery-watered lake at the end of a twisted thread of river—a lake that made him think of a silver herring on the end of a slack line. But as he swooped down on that quietly rising column of gray he saw that it was, indeed, smoke—the smoke of a camp fire. He could see a diminished figure moving about this fire, an over- turned canoe on the near-by beach, a second figure standing almost knee-deep in the lake water. That second figure looked like a woman — a woman with white arms and shoulders— and as far as he could make out, she seemed to be washing in the unruffled lake shal- lows. She was barefooted, he saw, as she sud- denly stood upright and turned and ran ashore. But a moment later she was run- ning back toward the lake brink, waving a pale-gray garment of some kind over her head. Casey’s heart skipped a beat as he heeled down into the lake water, turning its quick- silver quietness into a decrescendo tumult of sound. “That’s Paddy,” he said aloud as he drifted all too slowly shoreward. ‘“That’s Paddy,” he repeated as he poled his weathered gondola end into the ribbed sand. She was wading out to meet him, but he motioned her back. Her face, he noticed, looked pinched and there were shadows under her eyes. “Jinny?”’ was the one word she uttered as he stood beside her on the sandy bank. But all her soul was in her face as she ut- tered that word. “Not yet,”” he answered with a shake of the head. His quick glance made out old Pierre, calmly frying black bass in bacon fat over a fire of birchwood. ‘Are you all right?” “Yes; Jinny?”’ “We'll get her today,”’ Casey assured the girl who had lost so much of her old-time audacity. She seemed very young and small and helpless against that background of rolling forest and tangled waterways. “We?” she repeated, frowning. “Your father’s on Wapanapi,” he ex- plained, “‘and a man named Summers, with another plane. We can cover a lot of terri- tory with our two boats. We’re sure to dig her out before nightfall.” But Paddy refused to swallow that over- sugared pill. “She’s such a poor little tenderfoot,”’ murmured the girl with the suspiciously moist lashes. “That sister of yours,”” ventured Casey in his man’s maladroit effort to console her, *‘impressed me as a rather sagacious young woman.” “Kindly speak of her respectfully!” That flash was as unexpected as a bolt from asummer cloud. ‘It’s not insulting,”’ he contended, ‘‘to say that a woman has intelligence.” “She’s just a tenderfoot,’’ countered Paddy, ‘‘in these Polar regions of yours.” **And she’s probably just finding it out,”’ amended Casey. It surprised Paddy a little to find him re- fusing to back down before the threat of her enmity. But she respected him for it, she finally decided. The morose light in her eyes even softened, like meadowland from which a cloud shadow passes, as she stood watching him where he strode over to Pierre and fell to plying the impassive old Indian with questions. She watched him as he took up her blanket where it still lay on its mattress of pine boughs and pro- ceeded to fold it up slowly and solemnly. Hewas disappointingly matter-of-fact about it all, Paddy concluded. He hadn’t so much as said he was glad to see her. He hadn’t said much of anything, she remem- bered; but there had been a light in his hard young eye that was balm to her trou- bled young soul. It was a light that women are seldom mistaken about. (Continued on Page 119) but isn’t there any word of er oe ——- * ee i ee ES —— re a lm ~—o

Page 119

SS aay an > DM eee ei ——- ae THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ~and QU! ota Pt leer meee rye HHLLHEAHI| This new quiet Iroquois is indeed beautiful in its all- metal cabinet—white enamel inside and outside! A thing of beauty that will prove a joy forever in any kitchen. It plugs into any electric socket, and can easily be moved about like any piece of furniture. And in operation it is as quiet as the gentle whispering of the woodland pines! And it is so compact—occupying even less floor space than your favorite easy chair—only 61" high, 22)2"' deep, 26'4'' wide—but what a lot of shelf space it has! 9!2 square feet! More food storage capacity, too—5!% cubic feet— than is usual with an apartment type refrigerator! Here’s another important feature! This new Iroquois makes 110 ice cubes at one time—more than 9 pounds of ice! And there is an extra tray to store ice cubes. Just think of such a plenteous supply of crystal-clear ice cubes for chilling water and beverages—how refreshing these hot August days! Adding a few drops of fruit syrup to the water—or putting a cherry or a mint leaf into each little compartment—while freezing the cubes, gives an added touch of daintiness. Besides these advantages, you get in this new apart ment model all the other exclusive guset Iroquois features. Simplicity of construction—requires a minimum of servicing. Economical operation—current cost less than ice in most localities. Automatically maintains a constant low temperature—nothing to remember, or forget. You owe it to yourself to see the quiet Iroquois. And bear this in mind—it is a product of The Iroquois Electric Refrigeration Company, associate of The Barber Asphalt Company. Behind it are all the vast resources of a $40,000,000 corporation engaged in business for a half century. Famous the world over for its Iroquois machin ery; its Trinidad Lake Asphalt used in street paving, shingles, roofings, mastic flooring, built-up roofing and other asphaltic protective products. Write to us and we will gladly send you our interesting booklet, and also tell you where you can see this new Iroquois. Notice particularly its quietness—a feature which distinguishes the entire Iroquois line—eight other sizes of all-metal porcelain enamel white or gray cabinets. Or you can get a quiet Iroquois electric refrigeration unit for your own ice box. “* = THE IROQUOIS ELECTRIC REFRIGERATION COMPANY, 1600 Arch Street, Philadelphia Associate of The Barber Asphalt Company DISTRIBUTORS: An exclusive arrangement for selling the quiet Iroquois offers exceptional oppor tunities. Write us for complete de tails—today ! |The Electric REFRIGERATION > ; , = Troquois Maple e Pats: 7 , Fruit High Ball ¢ . . Walnut Pudding ‘ : Phos ” g Prt 4 Lt 4 Ae as made in the = ne of many é As . QUIET Iroquois is ‘ , tasty desserts easily ; ».. Acherry is frozen French Vanilla SS and quickly mad %) \ im each ice cube Ice Cream ee n the QUIET > c ‘ N» oan of —frozen in the P NE 2 croqu —/ QUIET Iroquois —— a Made early in the day —ready for dinner CRISP DRY COLD OF 4 FROSTY NIGHT

Page 120

August 20,1927 T HE SATURDAY EVENING POST ires are essential to care-free days. Rolling up mile d service — straight through two after mile of uninterrupte faster speeds and sun-baked high- summers where the urge to ways would wilt a tire of lesser quality. Never tampering Ww! h quality goes far to offset the ravaging effect of heat on tires. ARE-FREE t ote van 4 3 “e ; ey yi $ if 3 Z . ‘ . : Oe - itd dt - wet Built in Akron, d m, Ohio, by The Gener ‘ neral Tire and Rubé ud Rubber ( \ a ENERAL™:= —goes a long way to make friends

Page 121

i’

oe — = <— ae ~ -—E —— ee

(Continued from Page 116 So she was smiling a little forlornly as she made her way over to where he stood. His face was thoughtful as he took one of the pieces of hot fish in his hand and ate it. ‘““You're coming with me,” he said, wip- ing his mouth. “But I want to find Jinny,’’ she ob- jected. “That’s my job,”’ he said, as he broke off a piece of bannock and sank his canine- white teeth into it. “And I’m with Pierre,” she reminded him. “Then Pierre had better come too,”’ Casey’s prompt enough decision. “No go,” proclaimed Pierre, frowning at the flying boat. ‘‘ Me paddle.”’ Casey gave this a moment’s thought. “All right,” he said. “‘But you’re coming back to Wapanapi?”’ Pierre’s old eyes were veiled. um-by,”’ he solemnly proclaimed. “Why not now?” asked Casey. “Me find um,” was Pierre’s reply. “Find who?” queried Paddy. “Black Arrow,” was the answer. “And then what?” prompted the girl. But Pierre essayed no reply to that question. He busied himself instead in smothering what was left of the burned-out camp fire. ‘‘He said once that he’d kill him,”’ the ‘roubled Paddy explained to Casey, as she moved with the leather-jacketed figure step by step toward the lake shore. “Do you think he’d do that?” Casey’s short bark of a laugh was both a trifle curt and a trifle indifferent. ‘He won’t, for the simple reason that he’ll never get near Black Arrow. He hasn’t a chance in the world, mud-catting around these backwaters in a birch bark. That's our work—patrolling. And we can cover two hundred miles, where he couldn’t cover ten.” addy stood staring out over the rolling tiers of timberland. “I'd do anything,” she said, with her hands locked together, “‘if we'd only find her.” Casey looked down at her. ‘I may hold you to that,’’ he said, with a little of the hardness gone from his face. She turned to him, at that, and studied him with an un- wavering look. There was neither alarm nor agitation in her eyes. Her gaze, in fact, seemed more estimative than raptur- ous. “‘Casey,”’ she said, still with that lake- water look about her eyes, ‘‘are you really wonderful or is it because you're the only pebble on my beach?”’ “I’m not a pebble.” “*No, but you’re the only man in reach.” “Then why don’t you take advantage of so She managed a grimace. But it was not without a touch of tenderness. ‘This last few weeks,” she irrelevantly observed, “has made me rather serious-minded.”’ “It’s done worse to me.” “In what way?” “T can’t get you out of my empty head.” She turned about under the wide shadow of the flying boat’s wing. ‘‘ Why do you say that?” ““Because you're like the Grenadiers’ Band going by on a sunny morning in April.” ““Mostly brass?”’ “No; all glory and music.”’ She studied him once more—studied him with eyes that were thoughtful and honest and a little shadowed. ‘I ought to havea comeback for that,” she averred, ‘‘but I’m such a fool about you I can’t think straight.” “Then you don’t hate me?” ““Not by a long shot.” That avowal, however, brought no exul- tation to his face. He was buttoning his oil-stained flying jacket about his throat, but his fingers, for all his pretense at un- concern, were none too steady. It was Paddy who lifted her small and sunburned hands and quiet!y buttoned the top button for him. “Will it work out?”’ she questioned, with her hands still clinging to his abraded coat lapels. Was sé By- ’ THE SATURDAY “Why shouldn't it?”’ “I’m a bad lot.” “We all are.” She smiled at that, rather wintrily, her face still clouded by a sense of inadequacy in a scene that was in some way refusing to live up to its expectations “We're not doing this much in the story- book style, are we?”’ she demanded, as she turned toward the weathered gondola of the seaplane. ‘But I suppose it’s really the wrong time to be happy.’ “Oh, we'll revert to type,” stooped and unexpectedly caught her in his arms. ‘““What are you doing?” quaver in her voice “I don’t want you to get wet,”’ he ex- plained, as he lifted her up into the cockpit He was silent as he placed her in the worn leather seat behind the litter of gasoline cans still in their shipping crates. “You adorable old dumb-bell,”’ she mur- mured, as he buckled the seat straps about her. Her hand hovered over his bent head for a moment, but did not touch him. It was not until he had adjusted the last strap that he lifted his face and looked into her eyes. Then, with an altogether unexpected savagery, he seized her in his arms. He held her close against his leather-covered shoulder and kissed her upturned mouth. “You know, Casey,” she said, as she got her breath back again and stared frown- ingly down at his control stick, “‘when you marry me you'll most certainly have to give up flying.” “T intend to,’’ announced Casey. ‘“‘And there are a number of things you may have to give up.”’ “‘T’m ready to,’’ Paddy asserted with an altogether unexpected note of humility in her voice. ‘‘And you don’t hate me?”’ he repeated. Her movement, as she turned to him, was one of abandonment. “Oh, Casey,” she cried with an ecstatic small shiver, ‘‘you most positively should be cut up into stars and pasted across the midnight sky!”’ he said, as he she cried, a little xvVil OUNG Bodkin knew that John Wins- low wasn't quite himself. He couldn't, of course, be expected to act altogether normally, with his womenfolks wandering around the open forest and so worried him- self that he moaned in his sleep and went out to pace the dewy hills before it was quite daylight. But Bodkin didn’t expect to be cursed for making a bad landing which wasn’t in any way his own fault. He had opposed that early morning hop-off from the first. He had explained that his gas was low, and he had wanted his breakfast, and he was supposed to take his orders from the city doctor, still asleep in his wall bunk. But old Winslow had a hunch and insisted on acting on it. The big bully had told Bodkin to fly, and Bodkin had flown. He had flown until his engine had stuttered and stopped and he had blamed near wrecked his machine in making a forced landing on a three-cornered frog pond of a lake where there was scarcely room for a trumpeter swan to heel down and come to rest. And they would stay there, notwithstanding all Winslow's bad language, until somebody stumbled across them and portaged in to them with a gas supply. **Casey’ll bring it,” maintained Winslow, as he fell to pacing a stretch of yellow-white beach sand. ‘‘ We'll give him a smoke sig- nal so he can spot us.” “What good will that do?’’ demanded the breakfastless Bodkin. ‘‘He can't land in a duck pond like this.” “There’s nothing yellow about Casey,”’ averred the older man. ‘He'll land if he has to.” “And if he does, he smashes two planes at one crack. He'll see that the moment he flies over us. It simply can't be done.” “All right,”’ agreed Winslow, ‘‘ we'll have him drop our gas.”’ “And just how’ll you tell him that?” was the none-too-pleasant inquiry. EVENING POST Winslow stood silent « moment, engaged n the obvious effort of holding himself in. ‘I'll tell him, all right And instead of whining there like a white-livered half- breed, you get busy and make a smudge fire on the end of that sand bank.” So while Bodkin slowly and sullenly built Winslow fell grimly to work carrying moss-greened stones down to the his signal fire sand slope beside the lake. These he placed side by side, in rows and loops and curves twice the length of his body. And when Bodkin climbed to the crest of a near-by slope to make sure his smoke signal was discovered that } tor laced stones, lying dark floating high enough, he these cryptically | against the yellow-white sand, clearly spelled out the two words Drop GAS “The old bird has brains,’ Bodkin, I water front But he was tempted to reverse that deci- For as the morning wore away and the sun swung higher overhead, Winslow’s restlessness sharpened to impatience and his impatience soured into a low-spirited irascibility that left him dangerous of approach. And when Wins- low, frowning up at the pearl-misted sun, suddenly caught Bodkin by the arm and demanded to know if he smelled smoke, the as he made his way back to the sion later on. and higher younger man concluded that his fellow exile’s nerves were pretty well shot to pieces. For sniff as he might at that warm and balmy summer air, he could catch no odor of smoke on the rising wind. ““That’s a forest fire,”’ proclaimed Wins- low, his haggard face losing the last of its color. “‘T think you're mistaken, sir,”’ said Bod- kin, with a glance toward his own signal smoke, now driving southward in a widen- ing gray fan. “That’s a forest fire,”’ repeated the older man, sniffing upwind, his heavy head thrown back. He made Bodkin think of an old hound—a big old hound baying an un- familiar trail. But Bodkin, the next mo- ment, was thinking of other things. For on his ear was stealing a far-off but familiar sound —the steady drone of an engine com- ing closer and closer through the faintly misted sunlight. “That's a plane,” he proclaimed, as he turned to climb to higher ground. ‘I can see him there above the tree tops.”’ “Which way is he headed?” “This way, practically.” “It’s Casey,” said Winslow. ‘Thank God for Casey!’ He was running, the next moment, to throw fresh punk wood on the signal fire. “‘He sees us!” his binoculars. again.” But as the flying boat veered and swung lower and went over the triangular little lake with a crescendo roar of sound, Wins- low was waving and gesticulating up and down the sandy beach without quite know- ing he was doing so. “It’s all right, sir; he sees us,” the younger man, glasses as the engine roar diminished, fal- tered, and still again grew stronger. ‘‘ There he comes again. He seems to have a there’s a woman in that boat with him. He has a girl in there with him.” “Are you sure?” asked Winslow, in a voice that quavered. “Yes, quite sure,”” was Bodkin's answer. “See, she’s dropping a case over the side. That's some of our gas, and I guess I'll have to wade for it.”’ But Winslow wasn’t listening to him. He was waving frantically back at a half-bare arm, a slender young arm, that was waving down to him over the cockpit’s rim “That's my Paddy,” said the man with the haggard face. There was a choke in his voice, but a little of the tragedy had slipped away from his reddened and restless eyes. “Yes, that’s Paddy,”’ he repeated, as the roaring engine once more arrowed overhead ing in the lake cried Bodkin, busy with “He’s swinging round explained his eye glued to his ves, and another case fell splast Continued on Page 121

That's One Reason Why I Want 100 Men HE demand for who can earn Fyr-Fyters is growing fast. Five hun a dred million dollars’ an nual fire loss, 17,000 lives and the mortal dread of fire that’s in everybody are reasons a month } _ why we must eg men in our open territory to take orders and supervise installations of Fyr-Fyters Selling Fyr-Fyters is comparatively easy, so powerful and convincing is the story of fire Previous selling experience, although Without charge we train our men to become high-powered sales losses desirable, is unnecessary men in a short time, and they also become rnings start investment in stock or ter

real fire-prevention experts immediately, n ritorial rights asked Big Earnings Possible 7 a day Payne averaged $20.7 for 217 days; Graham and Mendenhal! each averaged $100 a week working only part time Depries made $500 one Hill sold 1400 Fyr- Fyters in one sale. In our records are many other instances of earnings of $50 to $60 a day and incomes of $3600 to $7200 a year by Fyr-Fyter men

week; An Amazing Story for You to Tell } daily paper, listen to the fire local fire chief, notice the ial everyw he re and judge Read your alarms, ask your inflammable mate: for yourself the need of Fyr-Fyters and why Let us tell h sells Fyr- ien in the high we are able to make this off you the sensational story whi Fyterss | rapidly and puts n earning class so quickly

Fyr-Fyters have the yproval of the (Fire) Underwriters’ Laboratories, are used by Standard Oil, Ford Motor ¢ Interna tional Harvester and many other of the largest concerns in the world Factories, stores, garages, auto owners, warehouses, schools, hospitals, farmers, pri vate homes and other places use thousands of Fyr-Fyters. Thousands more await thei: installation. The market is vast, unlimited earnings as a Fyr-Fyter Repre nl imited by y ambition

and y sentative are and desire to work This Opportunity is for You

Among Fyr-Fyter men are clerks, mechanics and others who s Fyr-Fyter thei al pport Now we are ready to appoint more. It is your opportunit your chance for $5000 easily and quickly, ft first year's eff reek rt 251) week to start. Fill the coupon below mail imn THIS COUPON GETS DETAILS The Fyr-Fyter Co., 1567 Fyr-Fyter Bldg., Dayton, Ohi I would like to kn

w 10re it a por m or Fyr-Fyter Sales For Kind end detail Varme Addre Cit

Page 122

120 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST & , . wey ypu ew WAYS Nomen H ave bou nd ’ = rue Puffe d Rice with \ cubed pineapple; pour \ the juice over generously } and add cream or half y, and-half. It’s delicious! to De ight Summer J ppetites These toasty, wonderful grains—the most unique cereal foods known—supply breakfast with the great adventure of variety Chitare nand grown-ups alike love sliced bananas ith Pu ffe d Rice and plenty of half-and-half. Sweeten lo suit the taste. L berries with Puffed : oY . Cm Rice is another pleasing ' - 7 wary to serve th ono" 8 » way to serve this versa . a oe rt ' tile cereal. . . children . love these dainty tidbits * —— 7 Serving Puffed Wheatin 1 ripened half canteloup ith sugar and cream 1 NCU hreakfa tde light that tempts the appetite. Ra spherries, Puffed Wheat, sugarand cream ... lel them eatall the; want; it's good for them any way they eat itt. N Is be t m, } , d for f hem. T> ihe new ways to serve Puffed Wheatand Puffed Rice. QUAKER OATS HE art of making breakfasts attractive is the art of supplying variety. Every- one’s appetite grows tired of eating the same thing over and over. Try some- thing radically different at breakfast tomorrow. Note how it appeals and attracts. Quaker Puffed Wheat and Quaker Puffed Rice are different from any other cereals known. They look different. They taste different. Their appetite appeal is different. Eat them to tempt the appetite with food that is “good for you,” that you eat because you love it. Their food value is that of rich grain foods. The Puffed Wheat is over 20% bran; but you would never know it, so delightfully is it concealed. Each grain is steam puffed to 8 times its normal size. And thus every food cell is broken to make digestion easy. There are many delightful ways to serve. Note the illustrations. Try too as a luncheon dish—at home, or in any restaurant. Serve as a before-bed snack that does not impose on the digestion. Give to the children, in place of sweets, as tidbits between meals. COMPANY August 20,1927 es ee Sn,

Page 123

ES ee Few See (Continued from Page 119 end. “So let’s get that stuff aboard and get out of here. Let’s get out quick, for I’ve got to find my Jinny.”’ But it wasn’t Winslow who found his daughter Jinny. It was Casey, with Peter in his observer’s seat, who three hours later swooped low over Half-Moon Lake and through the smoke that still drifted up from the blackened stumpage made out a gray-faced figure that waved faintly to them from the shallows at the lake end. And the plane, with its wings darkened with wood smoke, its gondola blistered with heat, its two passengers streaked and sooted with two frantic hours of flying over burn- ing pinelands and smoke-smothered water- ways, swung round into the wind and settled down into the lake, where Peter leaped into the waist-deep water and waded ashore. Casey, who had his craft to look after un- til the last of its headway was taken up, re- mained in doubt as to whether Paddy’s sister fainted from that final effort of strug- yling to her feet or merely let herself fall into the sooty arms of the man from the city. But she was conscious again by the time the young flyer got ashore and joined them, for she was clinging abandonedly to the smoke-stained Peter and crying over and over again: “‘Oh, Peter, I’m not worth it! I’m not worth it!” But Peter, who was busy getting a hypo- dermic ready, quietly observed: ‘Just leave that to me.”’ She winced as the needle penetrated the scratched and reddened flesh of her arm. And Casey did the same, vaguely disturbed by the sight of that instrument of medicine. “Are you all right?” he asked, as he stooped over her. He felt very helpless be- side the efficient-handed Peter. “My throat’s sore,” she complained in a husky whisper. “Of course it is,”” contended Peter. ‘‘ And you've got a strained heart and God knows what else, and you're going to bed for a week, if I have to nail you down to the mattress.” Jinny’s smile was a wan one. you're going to stay with me?”’ “Of course!”’ “Think of all the perfectly good patients you'll lose.”’ “They can wait,” Peter. ‘‘They always do “And recklessly averred for a good man.” ‘**Are you a good man?” And the shadow of some old diablerie crept into Jinny’s cired yes as she ventured that question. THE SATURDAY “They seem to think so, even if you don’t,’’ was Peter’s altogether solemn an- SWer we Peter 1 re erfect! ed in a voice a trifle thinned by weakne “You're so pe rfect that I'm almost of you.”’ ““A fat lot you're afraid of me,” tered Peter, drink. *‘And I’m not going to be mean to you any more,” was able to catch her breath again. ‘And mut- as he gave her something to she huskily protested, once she I’m never going to be ir in D’you remember, day I was going from the dining room to never once, the library and you asked me if | call a taxi for the trip, and I told you to go to hell? Well, I’m never going t that again. And I think I’m a little tired of being a thrill hound. And I guess I’m going to settle down and marry a o act like teady man as like old Peter Summers as I can get him.” “You bet your life you are,” Peter **And you can face a fate like that witha calm eye?”’ “Quite easily,” he said as he snapped shut his medicine case. She smiled at that, and then grew sober again. “But I’m still all kinds of a_ she- devil, Peter,” she warned him. ‘Don’t think I’ve been scared into any of that chocolate-seraph stuff. I’m a dyed-in-the- wool devil.” ““That’s what all women are,” proclaimed Peter, as he unrolled the blanket which Casey had handed him—“ perfected devils.” “You may have an awful time getting me tamed,” she croakily warned him. “Your bark, my dear, is much worse than your bite.” “Northern breezes,” she contended, ‘can’t always carry you back to better days.” But that seemed to remind her of some- thing, for the smile went suddenly from her fatigue-thinned face. ‘‘Where’s Black Ar- row?” she abruptly demanded. “That,”’ said Peter, “is what I wanted to ask you.” The old shadow crept into her stricken eyes. “But he left me, as the fire came, to He went back to get a canoe asserted ‘ find a canoe. to carry me where it would be safe. Hasn't anybody seen him?” The two men exchanged glances. “ Trust an Indian to take care of himself,” pro- claimed Casey. EVENING POST Casey conscious of Peter’s tu at his jacket sleeve, followed the other man a step or two to one side. “How about that Indian?”’ demanded the city man with the soot-streaked face Casey’s keen eye studied the blackened shore line and the smoldering slopes of ruin behind it hin He stood silent a moment, wit! his face muscles working. Then he slowly nodded his head “She's right,”” he admitted. ‘‘There’s not a chance ‘You mean he went out n that?” exacted the older mar ““He must have, poor dey But Jinny, who had heard that illed Case Vy over to her side and fixed an ac tory eye on him “He’s not a poor dey and you know it. He died nobly ar wasn't thinking about himself. It was me he was thinking about and trying to take care of. It was me, no matter if I wasr worth it And he had a white tr K as wide as this lake. You knocked him wher he was alive, Casey. But in one or two ways he’s a better man than you are, Gunga Din “‘Let’s get aboard,” said Peter, “You've got a father out who’s almost crazy with worry “Poor dad,”’ said Jinny, her up in hisarms. “I spose he’s lost about umpty million dollars’ this awful fire.” } a trifie brusquely there as Peter took worth of timber in ‘But he’s got you,”’ Peter reminded her. “Will he want me?” “Well,” said Peter, breathing a little heavily as he carefully lifted her over the cockpit side, “if he doesn’t, I do.” But she wasn’t listening to him. She was looking down at her hands, her sun- reddened and brier-scratched and wor hardened little hands **He won't be ashamed of ’em now, will he?” she said with a catch in her voice “You're talking too much,” Peter, as the turning prope the pallid sunlight. quiet.” “T won't,” nested so close in his arms ‘You've got to,”” commanded Peter “Well, I won't unless you kiss me,’ ceded Jinny. 1 growled ller flashed in “T want you to keep asserted the blanketed woman cone- SHORT TURNS AND ENCORES ‘I wasn’t going to call you a solipsist. As a matter of fact, what I was going to call you was a = ‘But only through solipsism can we be sure of the Universal. And if the Universal goes, what is left but despair?”’ The driver flung his arms wide apart to express despair. I shut my eyes and the bus slid off the road and lay down on its side in the ditch. No one was hurt but the driver. We laid him, unconscious, on the grass. After a time he opened his eyes. “Did anything happen in the sensory world?” he whispered. ‘“‘Everything’s all right,”’ said a salesman who had been examining the car, “‘ but your universal’s busted.” “The Universal’s busted!’’ said the driver. He uttered a great cry and passed away. Morris Bi: hop. Season’s End TPWHERG@ are hearts that I could harry, There are maids that I could marry, But unwedded still I tarry, ind the reason seems to be: ery maiden that I long for Someone hig er up ts strong for, 1 Continued from Page 28 And I wouldn't give a song for Any girl who'd fall for me. | Mite he Thor? fon, Take Your Pick! A Geographic Ballad ERE’S ballad; Here's something very nifty in a song . ? omething extra special in a I'll make these other troubadours look pallid, Til put ‘em on the mat where they be- long; The y talk of **gour 7 back’’ along their trace To ‘* Somewhere in ome ttle country town , 7 : , , I'll let you have a choice of thirteen place i ) , ' Just take your pencil, kid, ay 0 é CHORUS: I want to go back to Fond du Lac, Ocono woc, Eau ¢ re; ] want to be close or closa to the tow) WW auwatosa, And in Oshkosh there's a girlie waiting there Manitowoc and Baraboo, Menominee and Nee nah, foo, \re places I have in jered for fhe nonce wu I want to go back I want to, to Chippewa Falls, Oconto, {nd Wauke } rand Bea er Dan i cor ni ‘ . , THE END That yiving you the value of your money You cannot say that I an ding out: That erving you your griddle « ¢ vith honey; iM; e’ hirteen differer me ) abou There hirteen towns for you to fine ) i ind e of ‘em are large nd sone é ind if you } } ballad in Wiscon You ought to he #. that ’ j te RB Yesterday ) poms ERD 1Y J loved you. ye ‘ yl kne . ) erday you loved Today's today, I } But yesterc j ly } \ / This Sturdy Gauge is built on a principle that assures Permanent Accuracy! F you expect maxi- mum tire mileage and riding comfort, you must test the air pressure in your balloon tires—reg ularly—with a gauge of known accuracy, The U.S. TIREGAUGE is euarantced accurate to the pound because it operates on the prin ciple approved by the U. S. Bureau of Stand- ards for measuring pres ures. It is handy to use and as easy to read as your watch. The U.S. TIRE GAUGE fits all types of wheels and has an un breakable crystal Ask for the ( s TIRE GAUGE by name at your dealer's. It he cannot supply e, TED STATES GAUGE CO 44 Beaver Street, New York

Page 124

Look to them FIRST for that tired run-down nervous —— condition [‘ you have aching feet, look to them first for that “fagged out”’ feeling you get at each day’s end. T hey steal your vitality, sap your strength, fray your nerves and lower your efficiency amazingly All that unreasonable tax on your nerves, energy and ability can_ be quickly eliminated. Dr. Wm. M. Scholl has perfected a Foot Comfort Appli- ance or Remedy for every foot trouble, guaranteed to remove the cause, and instantly end all pain. Leading shoe and department stores feature then WEAK FOOT OR FLAT FOOT NORMAL ARCH Dr. Scholl’s Foot-Eazer has restored millions of people to foot health and happiness Science has never been able t« prove on Dr Scholl's FOOT-EAZER for relieving tired, aching feet and weak and broken-down arches, This small, ight, flexible, comfortable device gives support Also corrects cramped heel Adjustable as expertly fitted by CORNS BUNIONS Dr. Scuoit’s Zino-raps Dr. Scuori.’s Bunton ‘ * none min 4 REI ER tnitan reiieoe. hin, Acalin an nti bun nm pain Reduce protect 5 g an niargement and preserve each Dr. Scholl’s Foot Comfort Service is World Wide ~ HEADQUARTERS Dr Scholls Foot Comfort Service Nomatterir of the world you may live, you ci in get tof this service. There isa ntat lealerin every city appointed by Dr. Sct ist quarters for Dr Scholl's Foot € fort App ind Remedies. These stores dentified by the abov ymbol on their win ws. Fachst ysa Foot Expert,especially " i Dr. Sc! metl Go to this store y tow nd you wi! get real foot comfort Free Sample ° {Dr Scholl's Zn for ( ‘ Dr. § s Book, “The Feet i Add s, | S Még. ¢ 213 W Dt Scholls Foot Comfort Appliances and Remedies Feet THE SATURDAY course I’ll work here during vacation same as I’ve always done,” he answered, and Ruth went on eating her ice cream without giving the matter another thought. Next year Lloyd departed for the Hub, to goto Tech. His mother moved to the out- skirts of the Cove to live with a maiden lady of her own age who had a spare room to rent, and tried to save every dollar she could toward his education by taking in sewing. That was almost the last the Cove saw of Lloyd for some years. They heard he was doing creditably at Tech, but instead of coming back to work in the drug store dur- ing vacation, he landed a job of some kind with a big corporation in the city and his mother journeyed to Boston to spend a month with him. A fine ‘‘sit,’”” Sam Baxter figured, that would provide for such a trip, little guessing it cost them both every cent they dared to spend. However, the work would help Lloyd in his profession and he could not spare time from it to visit the Cove. Meanwhile Art Hayden had entered his father’s bank. It would be foolish, so everybody agreed, for him to le.unch out in any business elsewhere, with one already made for him. Moreover, he liked banking. It gave him prestige in the community and it was an unhurried existence, nearly de- void of competition. The country people had confidence in the institution and the Haydens pursued a safe, conservative pol- icy, content to hold their own without tak- ing the risks of expansion. A metropolitan banker might grin at it as note shaving, but there had never been a whisper against the Hayden integrity, so let the smart city slickers put that in their pipes and smoke it! People expected Art and Ruth would marry soon. It was known that Mr. Hay- den looked with favor on the attachment between the two young persons, and the match would lift the Glendenning fortunes out of the ditch. They were a proud family. It was a Glendenning who first settled in the Cove, and with a hundred years back of them they drew a lot of satisfaction out of their ancestry—a satisfaction somewhat out of proportion to their achievements in tavern keeping and store keeping, possibly, yet with a certain tone derived from thirty years of genteel poverty and doing nothing. Ruth’s sire had declined any sort of work after he inherited sufficient income from farm rentals to keep a roof over their heads; but Ruth’s grandfather had been a figure in the community and proprietor of the store in which Hayden got his start in life. Hence the friendly eye the banker turned on the engagement. However, Art and Ruth did not marry immediately. In fact, the romance received a check which nearly wrecked it soon after his return from college to his native town. Perhaps Art was not to blame, but Ruth could never be convinced. After all, he was only a youngster, and a boy in the early twenties is apt to be flattered by notice from an older woman, more particularly a woman like Mrs. Streeter, who was quite a great lady in the fashionable world and had a house in London, another in Paris and a place on the Riviera. When she opened her Cliff cottage, the list of guests read like a Social Register. All the Cove people knew them well by reputation and obtained quite a kick out of rolling their names familiarly in their mouths, almost as though they were friends. Well, they did know enough about them to justify a sense of close acquaintance, because every doing of Mrs. Streeter and her set was sedulously chronicled by the metropolitan newspapers and not a week passed that pictures of them did not adorn the Sunday supplements. One day Mrs. Streeter espied Art and his blazer and pipe lounging on the pier when she stepped out of the boat, and inquired in a tone audible to everybody, “‘Who is that boy? He looks quite nice.” EVENING POST HANDICAPS (Continued from Page 19) Young Hayden blushed a fiery red, then tried to affect the indifference of a blasé man of the world, whereupon Mrs. Streeter laughed; but a couple of days later she dropped into the bank on a trifling matter of business, simply paralyzing old Hayden, to whom a multimillionaire was a being from above. So Art attended to what she wanted and next day received an invitation to the cottage. He bragged about it for months, casu- ally mentioning the zippy story Mrs. Suf- fern Mackrel had told him, and how Mr. Whoosis -you know the man I mean, the famous polo player who also hunts his own pack-—-how Mr. Whoosis had said to him, ‘How about a game of billiards, old chap?” From that time onward Art old- chapped everybody of any consequence un- til he became a pest and blight to mankind, and he pulled the high handshake on people who had petted him as he drooled in his go- cart. Mrs. Streeter took him driving twice and had him out to a dance for which there threatened to be a shortage of younger men. The Cove stuck its tongue in its cheek and winked. That Hayden boy surely had the widow jumping sideways yes, sir, he was a gay dog! Then the grande dame tired of Art as sud- denly as he had taken her fancy. ‘‘He’s a perfect stick, my dears,’’ she told her friends. ‘‘ He stands and poses and expects everybody to fall down and worship. Not an idea in his head. I was never so disap- pointed in my life.’””, And she dropped Art like a hot cake, in favor of a young singer with more temperament. Art went back to his Ruth, but it took him some little time to make peace with her. “Not that I care,’’ she told him for the twentieth time. ‘“‘I hope you don’t think I’m jealous of that enameled grandmother! But I hate to see you make yourself ridicu- lous.” Of course she wasn’t jealous; yet during the next ten years nobody could mention Mrs. Streeter’s name in Mrs. Hayden's presence without sending the temperature around zero. He and Ruth were married soon after the reconciliation, and as though he had only been waiting for this crowning of his life work to pass to his reward, old Hayden lay down and gave up the ghost. On second thought, that is much too imaginative a flight, because the old cuss never gave up anything easily. He died hard, clinging with tenacity to the last breath. Indeed, it required two attacks of pneumonia to make Art the owner of the big white house next to the church. Just at first he did not step into the presi- dency of the bank, as everybody had antic- ipated he would. His father had owned 40 per cent of the stock and controlled all of it, but after his death the other stockholders got together and voted as a unit, and they voted for Miles Fish, who had grown up with the institution and knew it inside out. However, Art remained as vice president and, of course, he would eventually succeed to his father’s place. So he bought a motor car and settled down to the comfortable routine of a big man in a small com- munity. Changes were occurring, however, that got under his skin. Life had always moved placidly in the Cove, with the smoothness of a settled social order. Now it became dif- ferent. All sorts of people were moving in, most of them of alien stock. A swarthy, August 20,1927 thickset Greek, who looked as though he might once have handled cargo on his head, opened up a grocery store. Some Portuguese settled on the water front and gained control of the fishing busi- ness; and the barber shop, the pool room, and finally the drug store, passed into the hands of wops. If these people had remained in their own sphere Art would not have resented their presence so much. But as time slipped by they accumulated money, and first thing he knew the wop was building almost next door to him and the Greek moved into the old Pratt homestead, once the boast of the countryside, and announced that some day he aimed to build him a real house, like they had it on the Cliff. The children of these newcomers mixed on familiar terms with his own. It was no good trying to set up barriers—the young sters ignored them; and presently the young people’s parties resembled a con- gress of nations. As a protest against the new order, Art resigned from the bank when the Greek was elected a director, and Fish did not op- pose his leaving. But, at that, he main- tained his position better than most of the old breed. Many another representative of pioneer stock went down and out. Men whose ancestors had once been lords of the countryside were now glad to secure jobs as watchmen or ground keepers for the es- tates built up by wealthy city men through purchase and combination of farms. And Art’s resentment could not hold out long. To buck a tidal wave is a losing game, and the new order was gathering such momentum that he either had to go with it or be submerged. It seemed to him that only yesterday these men who now called him Art or Hayden had entered the bank, hat in hand, to solicit small loans. They did not take off their hats now. In fact, some of them progressed so far that they became exceedingly careless toward Art, almost ignoring him at stockholders’ meet- ings. The Cove was certainly not what it used to be—no, sir—gone to the dogs, in Art’s opinion. Everything was so changed that Lloyd Shumway scarcely recognized the place when he paid a visit to it with his mother many years after she had moved away to keep house for him. Most of his boyhood friends were gone; Doctor Somers was long since dead; only the ex-druggist and Art Hayden remained as links with the past, and the druggist was doddering. “What’re you doing now, Lloyd?” Art inquired when he met him in the street. “I’m with the X. Q. Z. Electrical Cor- poration.” “That’s about the biggest of them all, isn’t it?”’ “It’s big,’’ Lloyd admitted. It was curious how the old relation be- came instantly established. Lloyd’s man- ner was almost diffident to Art, just as it had been in boyhood. “Well, I’m glad to hear you're getting on,”’ Hayden continued. “Thanks, Art’’—and he meant it. ‘‘ How is Ruth?” “My wife,” said Art, a shade stiffly, ‘‘is very well, thank you. Are you married?” “*Married? Me? No, I should say not. I’ve never run around with girls much couldn’t afford it, for one thing.”’ He seemed embarrassed, and Hayden suddenly remembered how sensitive he had always been about his limp. “Well, glad to have seen you, Lloyd,” he said, and walked away. That was all Shum- way saw of him while in the Cove. ““Why didn’t you ask him for dinner?”’ Ruth demanded that night. “It never occurred to me. Lloyd Shum- way? I don’t believe he was ever in our house in his life.” “Yes, but nobody cares about that now- adays. Look at the people who do come (Continued on Page 124) ——

Page 125

LS —

TT TT ma ; - <4 ot, Doe @, educe the expense WWW

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST AY-O-VAC radio bat- teries have always been known for their remarkably long life... but now a new type of construction gives them still more staying power and greatly increases their length of service. Hence when you use Ray- O-Vacs you do not have to buy batteries so often and you reduce the expense of operating your set. Each individual cell in these new-type batteries 1s enclosed in a waterproofed compartment. he possi- bilities of internal short cir- cuits are greatly reduced and the battery gives its en- tire life in service. Ray-O-Nacs give better reception, l00 Not only do Ray-O-Vac bat- teries have much longer life, but because of their low in- RADIO IS

of good reception with this longer-life radio battery ternal resistance they allow clearer and better reception. Eminent radio engineers state that to avoid distor- tion the “B” power supply should have as little internal resistance as possible. Ray- O-Vac batteries have 's to 's that of other “B” cur- rent supplies. No wonder that radio engineers use Ray-O-Va« batteries in their exacting experimental work or that so many radio owners who want good reception at minimum cost are turning to Ray-O-Vac batteries for their radio “B” power. Ray-O-Vac batteries are sold everywhere by leading dealers in radio supphies. KrencH Batrrery CoMPAN\ MADISON, WISCONSIN “ “ “ Ra BETTER WITH BATTERY POWER

, ay Jour pounds les:

Page 126

Trousers hang as they should-only when worn with suspenders bn ta: Man's Style—decrees suspenders for all men. Suspenders are essential for present trouser styles, essential for stylish fit, essential for easy comfort. Young men have demanded suspenders in colorful patterns—and Pioneer, fifty years the — || standard for fine suspenders, has responded _ || with a wonderful assortment of patterns in both the elastic and popular English non- || types. clastic For suspender style, insist on Pioneer sus- penders at the men’s wear counter. PIONEER SUSPENDER COMPANY 315 to 323 North Twelfth Street Philadelphia, Pa. SUSPENDERS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued fram Page 122) here! And I was thinking if we ever paid a visit to New York ig ‘*He did tell me to let him know when we came,” said her husband. ‘I wonder how he’s doing.” ‘*Mrs. Spratt was telling me yesterday | that people say he'll be the next president of the corporation. He’s invented some kind of thing they expect to make a lot of money out of.” “Rats! I don’t believe it,’’ Art scoffed. ““Why, I remember when he used to carry in wood for Doctor Somers!"’ Then he grew thoughtful. ‘Little Lloyd Shumway,”’ he muttered, seeing him in his mind’s eye trudging through the snow. There was silence a while. “Did you know I could have had Lloyd if I had wanted him?” She shot the query at Art triumphantly, but his complacence was not to be disturbed. ““T don’t doubt it,’ he answered, laugh- ing easily. ‘‘But when did this happen?” **He proposed to me once when he was in college —wrote me a letter. I've got it up- stairs.”’ **Got lonely and homesick, I guess.”’ ‘“‘That may be what you think.” ‘“Were we engaged when he proposed to you?” “Yes, but Lloyd didn’t know it, and I | never told him.” ‘*What did you tell him?” “Nothing. It was too ridiculous, of course—then.”’ “Then? Somehow I can’t imagine you ever marrying Lloyd, no matter how well he did. And I can’t imagine him ever having the nerve—well, to presume.”’ “Don’t be absurd. It sounds silly to talk that way now. Look how well he’s done. And Mrs. Spratt says he’s right at the top of his profession.”’ “Possibly. But “% “But what? He’s doing things, at any rate—and he doesn’t have to live in this hole.” It was a poisonous scratch, but he had grown hardened. “There doesn’t seem to be much sense in arguing about it now, do you think?” he retorted evenly, only half believing | what she said. She may have been telling the truth, | however, for about the first thing Lloyd Shumway’s wife said when they landed at the Cove five years later was, ‘‘ And now I want to see this Ruth you've talked so much about.” Lloyd reddened like a boy. “‘Pshaw, I haven't seen her since I was a kid. But she was the prettiest girl in the county then.” His wife smiled, yet her voice was subtly barbed as she remarked, ‘“‘The village belle, eh?” ‘Ruth was a fine girl,’’ retorted her hus- band stoutly. They got into a car and drove to one of the cottages on the Cliff. From the way Mrs. Shumway treated Lloyd, it appeared that she either did not notice his limp or it made no difference to her. “Well, I’ve seen the marvel at last,’’ she announced next night at dinner. “Who? Ruth?” “So you recognize the description! Aha! Yes, I saw her today in the drug store.” “*What did you think of her? Wasn't I right?”’ His wife’s eyes were dancing now. There was no sting left for her in that memory he treasured. ‘I want you to see her. You say you haven’t seen her in twenty years?”’ | Lloyd “Twenty-three, to be exact.” ‘She must have been awfully pretty once, when she was a young girl, I mean.” “Why, Ruth Surely she can’t be old! She’s only Lord lumme, you're right. She’s getting on to forty-five.” “Yes, and quite matronly, too, my dear,’ declared Mrs. Shumway with satis- faction. ‘‘And she has an expression about the mouth - Did Ruth have a temper, Lloyd?” ‘*Not a bit. She was an angel.” August 20,1927 “What on earth are you two arguing about?” inquired their hostess. ‘The town’s lady killer? Has he been vamping you, too, Meb?”’ “Not yet. It’shis wife. Lloyd says she’s an angel.”’ “My dear Lloyd—really now! That pair fight like cats and dogs. He can’t call his soul his own. And everybody is fright- ened to death of her too.” “Oh, well,’ muttered Shumway, and then demanded heatedly, ‘‘Who the mis- chief started this topic, anyway? I say we get up a game of contract.” He had half expected to see something of the Haydens on this visit to the Cove, but his hostess did not know Mrs. Hayden ex- cept by sight and neither Ruth nor Art did anything to get in touch. “Yes, I hear they’re out on the Cliff somewhere,’ remarked Ruth with fine carelessness at a dinner party given by the Greek to open his new house. ‘‘But we never had Lloyd Shumway inside the door when he lived here, so why should we start now? Ofcourse he’s done very well, I hear. But if one is going to take up all the new people And she made a movement of her shoulders. It was what the prize ring calls a one-two punch, aimed both at Lloyd and their host. That was Ruth’s way too. She was apt to let fly at anybody when her rancor was stirred, and Art had made her furious by insisting they should accept this invitation. “‘T—ah—I saw him from a distance,” Art put in hurriedly. He could cheerfully have throttled his wife. Didn't she know better than to insult people in their own homes? And he owed Papadopolous money too. It was mighty hard to live decently nowadays on what had formerly been a comfortable income and it did no good to make enemies need- lessly, especially of people who could be useful. Yet he was every bit as resentful of Shumway’s presence among those people on the Cliff as Ruth could be. It was all very well for the Cove crowd to pretend, but the summer colony cut a big figure in the outer world in more ways than one, and here they were taking Lloyd up as one of themselves. Hayden had never received another invitation to a cottage since his flirtation with Mrs. Streeter, and although he blamed Ruth for their being ignored in this fashion, it rankled. They made him tired, that clique, with their airs and their money. Whet was money anyhow? All sorts of people had it nowadays. Nevertheless, he was often to be seen lounging on the pier when their yachts put in. Lloyd saw him there on the afternoon of his departure and was startled to observe how youthful Art looked. He had grown a trifle stout, perhaps, and his wavy hair was beginning to thin just where the part started, but he was still a handsome man. Hayden sported white ducks and a blue blazer with a school crest on it, smoked a cigarette in a long holder and wore his shirt open at the neck. ‘Hello, Art!’’ Lloyd called out, waving his hand from the launch that was taking him out. “How do you do, Shumway?” Art re- turned with the casual brusqueness of the man-about-town. Now when middle-aged men sport school blazers for everyday parade it is a confes- sion of failure. Shumway grinned at the get-up, but it was a kindly grin too. Su- perior physique held his deep respect, and probably Art would never cease to be a hero to him. “‘T don’t believe I ever saw a handsomer man than Art Hayden when he was young,” he remarked to the boatman. ‘‘And even today—just take a look at him—nearing fifty and looks like a boy.” ‘Why shouldn’t he?”’ said the boatman. “That's all he has to do. You ought to see him giving the girls the eye when he drives through town, Mr. Shumway! One of these fine days somebody's goin’ to bounce a rock offa that bird’s head, too— you see if they don’t—the big stuffed blazer!”’

Page 127

\ Tera MARLAN D THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HE Ford car, like any other well designed, carefully made piece of machinery, will give that degree of service that can be expected when it receives a fair measure of care. First, it must be understood that the Ford motor differs from every other type of motor in that a single oil must perform the double task of lubricating the motor, transmission and brake bands. Next, it must be ap- preciated that it requires a distinctive type of motor oil to do this---an oil specially designed and refined for this double lubrication duty. Ic is seldom one ever hears of trouble from a Ford car with the exception of jerking and jolting in starting and stopping. This is caused by the brake and transmission bands becoming hard and glazy so that they slip and slide, grab and release in an uneven fashion. This is no fault of the car, but is usually caused by faulty lubrication. Marland Super Motor Oil for Fords is specially refined for this double lubrication job. It is refined from only Subsidiary REFINING of MARLAND OIL GENERAL OFFICES AND REFINERY: select Mid-Continent paraffin base crude under patents that are exclusive to the Marland Company for all North America. Used consistently, it gives an un- usual velvet smoothness in starting and stopping. Bands remain soft and pliable. There is a marked economy in quantity used; a reduction in carbon deposit; cleaner spark plugs and splendid job of lubrication for the rest of the motor. The results obtained through the use Motor Oil for Fords are nothing less than amazing. of Marland Super These results are so quickly noticeable that Ford owners and operators of fleets of Ford cars or trucks in a surprisingly large number have expressed them- selves in no mistakable terms to the effect that here at last is perfect Ford lubrication. Dealers ‘and jobbers are requested to write our General Office for com- plete specifications, prices and_ sales plans. For Ford owners we have de- scriptive literature we will gladly mail on request. COMPANY PONCA CITY, OKLAHOMA START WITHOUT A JERK GO WHEN AND WHERE YOU WILL AND STOP WITHOUT A JOLT There 1s a grade « Super Motor type of mot nder patents the Marlan ( North Amer Marland chart ft motor iubr AT 1« trucks, tractors a CYCICS All are by the Mar Marland sté ot Marland COMPANY Division Sales Offices: New York City Boston Chicago Export Terminal: Kansas City Texas City, Texas Denver Memphis — St. Paul-Minneapolis

Page 128

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST /oNergarn “@Mhen Gndurance Gounts In the wear and tear of daily living, EN and women who aspire to athletic achievement—those who undergo gruelling tests of physi- cal endurance—know the energy-pro- ducing value of candy. Athletic coaches know its value. They give their football teams candy be- tween the halves to refresh them. Candy is included in the diet of oars- men and track athletes. It is always in the equipment of mountain climbers and explorers. Candy was given tothe men in the trenches to help keep them fit. The baseball player, the golfer, the tennis player, the swimmer—they, too, appreciate the refreshing, fatigue- ; relieving qualities of candy. energy is used up and even wasted to an alarming degree. Combat this drain upon your system by a few bites of + candy a day. Eat candy for energy. Candy is merely a combination of 1 nuts, milk, sugar, butter, molasses, eggs, gelatine, honey, corn syrup, knod milk fi a malited miik, fruits, chocolate and other foods that you eat every day 4 1 under other names. You know how good it tastes. Candy is food in its finest form. It will add to your health and happiness and has become a recognized social } custom. Take home candy for Sunday August 20,1927

Page 129

The annual cost of the public school Sys tem alone far exceeds the bonus paid Amer- ican soldiers after the Great War. And when we remember the conservative esti- mate that the population of this country will be doubled thirty-two times within the next hundred years, it is scarcely possible to compute the future expense even of elemen tary education in this country. Health in surance is included. Every child is entitled to medical service, and the sanitary condi- tions of every school are inspected. Text- books and free lunches are provided when necessary. And the whole plan is backed up by compulsory laws in nearly every state, that the chil dren of the rich and the poor, white or black, native or foreign-born, may share and share alike the same opportunities for an education. So far, nothing commensurate with the effort and expense of the experiment has transpired. Quite the contrary, in fact What the idealists fail to take into account is that human nature is much more firmly graded than any system they can invent for grading classes in the public schools. N ther wealth, nor poverty, nor environment determines the innate quality of a child. It is only logical and rational to think so, which goes to prove that much thinking is fallacious. Some very inferior children are born to prosperous parents, and some very — children are born to poverty, with all their sparks flying upward. Whatever may be said or proved to the contrary, the fact remains that the breeding of men cannot be improved by the same methods used in producing better stock. Some mystery of spirit is in that business which invariably queers the experiment. A child may inherit the features of a long line of malignant ancestors and still pop up in the eighth grade with the attributes of a noble mind winged with the finest illusions of the spirit. By the same token, scended from saints will turn out to be a de- generate. And not only one here and there, my masters, but hundreds, thousands, of them, enough to double-cross all your well- written theories to the contrary. It would not surprise me if it turned out after all that we know more about God than we can ever learn about ourselves, because the evidence of the former is found to be consistent when we learn how to construe it, but no man will ever learn enough to find out how to con- strue or predict any other man, or the youngest child among us. school to the one end one de- Shielded From Responsibility The best we can do is to give him the right chance and no more; never give him the reins. This is the trouble with our ideal plan of education. It is impractically cath- olic. After fifty years of the experiment the waste material in youth is on the increase. And it is being graduated along with the best material, made more efficient by men- tal training for crime and corruption. No censorship except in scholarship and school- room conduct. Youth is amorphous, sub- ject to every influence and suggestion. So we are indeed reaching the level between classes and masses, but not yet the high one the ideal predicted. The croaching on the classes in the schoolroom, imparting to them the herd consciousness, not elevating. The increase in young crim- inals is appalling. We are conferring every kind of degree upon young people, from the common-school certificate to bachelor de yrees from state universities, except the de- ree of personal responsibility. The most laborate preparations from earliest child- hood are made to shield them from that. _ rything from traffic regulations to enacting a junior code of laws is being done to , protect youth and to shield it from re- sponsibility. If they get it, it comes from some other source-—pressure outside of their homes and They rule the masses are en- these xz « ] } schools Al MANUAL OF EDUCATION FOR THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 27 former in too many instances, and they can graduate from the latter without ever hear Ten ing of Genesis or of the Command ments. But they are thoroughly trained by association in the mob spirit If one of them becomes a student, he joins a school of thought and thinks accordingly until the spirit of the times forces him to matriculate n the thought. If he must work, he r of the next school of joins an office a gang laborers where his mind is steadied by crutch of the crowd, and all re spons ibil is vested in the boss. Set a youth who hi as had the best possible advantages a gratu itous educational system affords to perform the simplest task and, even if he has had some training in the same kind of work, force or alone observe the result: If the performance is not absolutely idiotic, it will be done with the childish inefficiency of a person who has no practice in the use of his own hands and mind. He must be directed The Stepchild of the State Get schools works, graded; the off, he be lon Zs, this: Publie are public Any kind of school They are every day’s task in learning during student's formative years is measured not to him, but to the grade to which shared by all of the students and recited by all of them. The science in which they are most proficient is that of telepathy. Knowledge of the text they study isa pool they unconsciously hold to- gether. The lazy student who falls down on his recitations, but invariably passes his examinations creditably neither does he is not necessarily cram so much as he is supposed to do—he is a sort of psychic in the schoolroom, clairvoyant. He adds to his smattering of the subject what the best students in the class know. He trails their processes of thought with the mental nose of afyste. Knowledge may not an odor, but it leaves traces in the common mind easily followed. I have done that myself. To this day I can cast back into the mind of my husband, dead these many rake up information he had that I had, and use it; because for a long time I was the barnacle upon his great mind, fa- miliar with his processes of thought, knew where he kept his best ideas and ideals, and how to inherit them fora moment. Most of us are plagiarists by a thousand indefinite routes so faintly traced that we are aware of them. But these youngsters de velop a genius for that sort of thing which leaves them hipped and dumb when are removed from the common multiple of the schoolroom crowd into the school of life, where they must make good literally in a business or at a job by using the mind so trained in the schoolroom. It is digit training of a mass mind, and as feeble as any other digit divorced from a huge sum total. But all this is collateral evidence of the point I am trying to prove—namely, that school training for the individual, however generously provided, is inadequate; this brings us to the crux of the whole mat ter. It isanotorious fact that the American hild and youth no longer receive the dis cipline and careful private instruction par ents formerly gave. He is short on home culture. He is the romping young step child of the state. Interest in him has be- come a public-spirited virtue. Modern mothers are determined to get provisions made by the state for delinquent boys and girls, defective and dependent children. They want junior codes of laws passed for dealing kindly and tenderly with these abandoned youngsters. They are as much obsessed with this idea of education and protection as pious women used to be in the churches who gave their time and whole in prayer for the heathen. But they will work through it as usual and get back a cheat; arone have years, never scarcely they graduate and souls home in their mind and conscience in time to save the next generation of delinquent EVENING POST THE EDUCATED I e Dboys and girl whoa ng to Ul Class until they are revised and ined uf according to private domestic standards ir duties. Ages ago when ancient Athens wa a modern city the Greeks tried the same plan of education into which we are now drifting, and it did not tu t very we The citizen babe failed to make good a tizen. They were ged go back t them up line upor e, precept upon pre cept, in family-life Uy For an old person, now in her amiabk second childhood, I have gone to and f the world a good deal these last years, and if | must say it in order to clinch my point I have seen as many of the best people young and old, as I have seen of the oth« kind; 7 more of the tormer, be cause I never had much talent for welfare work, and very little curiosity about th poverty and vices that make some peopl less good than I have had a« e to be l am not fastidious about vice or poverty but I am squeamish about staring the \ tims out of countenance. Whatever I have done for them is little enough, to be sure but always with my eyes turned the othe way, not in contempt, but out of some kind of embarrass¢ a compa mn I seem to be long irrevocably to my own class, which a reasonably good one, considering that a of us are tarred more or less with the same brush, and I am more and more inclined t rest in it without doing so much good Maybe this is because I am growing old and tired; then again it may be that I have always been a trifle mean at heart, and th« trait is showing up on me now in spite of a] the good things I have wr tten about the circuit rider’s wife I used to be. Old ag is the big dictionary which certainly does define us. We may have had a reputation for loving and serving the poor in our prime; but after a while, when our power of self-control weaken and we become child J 4} of conceal out that we 1S! no ior yparent to all men, iger capable g our former motives, it turns were only shrewd advertising agents of the virtues we did not really have and with no more charity than any othe tightwad. I have known such people, and I have been well acquainted with other who lived like tares among us, but fell heirs, by some secret quality of their spirit, to a nobler sense of duty when they began to die down in the flesh and went out humbly at last, clothed in the shining gar- ments of every charity It is very con- fusin never know toward the end. g; we who we are until Overworked Sentimentalism But, as I said awhile ago, I am beginning to feel hidebound to my own Class icKInNg in the egotistical fervor of sacrifice to get down under the fallen edges of m ind t hoist them. They have outweighed too many braver spirits in that position witl out being lifted enough for us to notice ar perceptible difference the elevatior We have all seen sentimentalists feed coa miners and their families during a st ‘ when thousands of people who work and never strike were freezing in bitter wint weather for the lack of coa I have « known my dear husband to carry prov4sior to a poor lamily only to have! hat stoler when he bared his kind head and knelt in prayer for the Lord’s ble so upor them. Such charity does not set well wit me. My idea is to give them the chance we all have to work and to better the condition by thrift and economy. Over I am for leavir sentimentalist that, the professional better homes for being taxed to provide Sut I personal private advice to the of my own kind which is not much as it should be in their I had a busy working hand in the gy them to and to the and above have long wished to offer a little young peo} t stressed a nome or Ow Why not the “comfortable Great Northern’ on your next visit to Chicago? letenc i ce ™X | Ina nie tel ot i but not can most comfortable tc favor both of Ousin 5 travelers and tourists. I Great Northern does not huctuate *k conventions; its rates do not ‘reservations are honored with meticul us care and gues are roomed promptly rrival Its 400 bright, livable roonss ingft $2 50 d 4 dé I i notable for size; its extra-spacicus many-windowed corner rooms are¢ available tor exhibits vell for personal occup For twe personsinanyroomtheadditional a charge is one dollar a « is no addition: TY 4 I served In guest iy. there | charge for meals ] ; rooms 1ourists ] } | ire delivered with tcharve > ( ‘ t ‘ > Great : Northern ae incorrigipvie which we are YW e Hotel CHICAGO

Page 130

128 bringing up of two or three families of boys and girls before this breach widened be- tween modern parents and their still more I enjoyed the vagaries and confidences of these young people for so many years that I still feel sometimes a wise old person sitting in the quiet hadows behind their brighter times with a ‘ind 1d upon their dear heads. ““Callow youth” is a phrase that has a father saw rst son “‘going But why remain callow and why spend so much i The descent represents arrested adolescence, which is a factitious phrase for defining arrested development, a condition peculiar to backward people and defectives. It seems to me that you are prevaricating by prolonging this period of irresponsibility. If you accomplish something worth praise you are very well satisfied to be recognized ‘ but if you commit a crime when are thirty years of age, you take some comfort in the fact that in the next morning modern children 1iKe peen used, I suppose, since up fools’ hill.” nL) ‘ ey rime ou } ‘ ) r time rt up fools Nii as aman, paper you are reported as a youth who killed his friend the night before, or robbed a bank the day before. Everybody under thirty who commits a crime in this country is a youth. The distinction belongs to the sentimental vocabulary of our times, but in view of that fact it does seem to me that grown men would prefer to be recognized aus such as soon as possible. Somewhere in the course of my travels I drifted into the background of a lively set of young people, and remained there like a overstuffed furniture—no more noticed than that, is what I mean. Their antics, their follies and points of view were me. They indicated the iferiority complex by boasting continually about what they could not do. It was a piece of a revelation to deficiencie: One young college graduate said he could not spell or write. A girl who had been in a conservatory of music for two years said she could not play or sing. She only took music to pass the time. They had wrecks and roadhouse adventures of which they were exceedingly proud. And they exchanged confidences about the merits of their respective bootleggers. Blackbottom-dancing butterflies out of the best f: ;; young men old enough to be settled in business still supported in idle- ness by their fathers; no conscience, no One of them had the singing He had just graduated. “It’s a great life if elf-respect, face of a boy angel. His class motto was: you weaken a little.” He had a puerile talent for perverting the meaning of proverbs and noble epigrams, and he had composed a parody on the Twenty-third Psalm addressed to his flivver. Youth’s Best Teacher Now, as an old person grown gray in the Word, I am not bearing down too hard in my judgment upon these youngsters for their vulgarity and sacrilege, because really meanness in Pharisaism, but what astonished me was that they believed they were hard-boiled. My feeling is that there was never a time there were more indications of soft- So many feminists among and young men, lit by garish little deals about freedom and tolerance. Few of them have enough courage of righteous- ness to believe in capital punishment. They about enforcing the ak a few of them on the sly, but never openly like a hard- boiled man. What they is sterner teachers and sterner experiences in living. Not so much protection from hardships and no money at all from the old man to reverence tor ther i re there 1S more when boiled youths the boys are sentimentalists And they like to bre iaw. need spend upon their follies and indulgences. Necessity is the best teacher youth can have from which to acquire energy and to learn economy. Firms you up to work for your living, rots you not to do it, no mat- ter how rich your old man is There is a top and brighter side to the ex- ploits of our youth. Earnest young scien- tists whose discoveries are THE SATURDAY the treatment of diseases, insuring health, improving agriculture. Rich young capi- talists who are building civilization along with their big businesses. Thousands of young engineers who are performing miracles of power and light with electricity. Inventors who are preparing us for living in an age of machinery after the natural fuels are exhausted. Not all our heroes are tennis champions, pugilists and baseball sports. We fetch a surge now and then and produce a youth who crosses the Atlantic on the wing to prove the mettle of the pasture from which he comes. They make less fuss than the foolish ones, so attract less constant attention. Buried Talents I think, however, that even serious- minded young people might save time and some ineffectual stutterings morally and mentally if they would settle a few ques- tions arbitrarily at the beginning. What I mean is that they should have a point of view from which to sight the future. For example, you should make up your minds about whether patriotism is a weakness or a virtue, and whether it is wise or foolish to obey the laws of your country. These are moot questions just now. Some very smart people hold that love of country makes a man narrow in his sym- pathies with the world at large, and that he is under no more obligations to love this country than he is to love China. Sounds broad as the brotherhood of man, and you might manage it if you were one of the traveling delegates of the Third Interna- tional at Moscow, which is the source of much specious inspiration, but if you are an American citizen your naturalization instincts are rooted in this land and you should be faithful to it, first, last and all the time. You never will be great enough to cover problems of international affairs without spattering yourself into an ab- surdity. Observe the fate of some dis- tinguished men among us who lately showed too much solicitude for the pros- perity of Europe at the expense of their own country. One should not go so far as to say their glory has departed, but it cer- tainly has been dimmed in the opinion of the average hawk-eyed American citizen. My advice is to suspect every man or group of men whose humanitarian instinct inspires them to give away other people’s money. By the same token you are warned against joining some of the various societies for the good of your country. They are alleged to be controlled either secretly or openly by the Third International of Moscow. I could name half a dozen, some of them intercollegiate organizations. If you wish to be a communist ruled by Soviet Russia, move over there where they can get a better chance at you than they can here, protected by a better government. The sensible thing to do is to affiliate with one of the two great political parties in this country, go ahead and vote ac- cordingly, whether you elect anybody or not. That is not the prime object; the im- portant thing is to keep up a healthy com- petition between them. A young man in every other section may take his choice between being a Democrat or a Republican, but if he is a Southerner, EVENING POST living in the South, he may as well bend his back and become a Democrat no matter what divergent views he holds along some lines. Don’t worry about them. The Re- publicans are usually strong enough to take care of them anyway, without your vote. I contemplate retiring from the political field entirely before the next presidential election, and going into a ‘‘retreat’’ as a blessed old lady of the past who had no ballot bee in her bonnet and trusted God more than she did political parties. But you youngsters have no such tra- ditions for an excuse. It is your duty to practice voting, right or wrong. You are fortunate if you have not al- ready limited your future prospects with the idea that you have some one excessive talent and must devote yourse!f exclusively to developing it. Our best talents are usually buried talents. Your later educa- tion should consist in digging them up and using them. The finest culture that fits every man and every woman for a good and successful life is a talent for hard work. Endeavor to acquire a highly trained co- ordination between your hands and your brains. Some clever young people have idiotic hands, or what is worse, a finicky use of them. I was in London in 1911, during the great railroad strike. Victoria Station was crowded with panting locomotives and long trains of cars. They had been guarded for days by mobs of striking railroad employes who refused to take them out. Then one evening a long line of young men appeared there elegantly dressed. They made their way in silence through the yelling mob, climbed into the cabs of the engines, took their places as firemen, brakemen and con- ductors. And the trains began to move out. Before midnight every train was on its way, manned by crews from Oxford, Cambridge, sons of the noblest families in England. There were no wrecks, no mis- haps, and the strike was broken. This is what one may call education in the best sense, a training in knowledge and courage that fits men to meet emergencies in their own lives and in the affairs of their country with efficiency and dignity. A Chain of Evil But it is not what a man knows, after all, that determines his worth or character; it is the things he hopes and believes. The whole of life for us is one illusion after an- other. Therefore, choose your illusions wisely and stick to them, for you never can get beyond one without falling into an- other. Endeavor to keep a few fixed prej- udices. They are always more colorful and personal to a man than principles, as your features distinguish you from your twin man who greatly resembles you in char- acter. Avoid sleazy tolerance. Broad- mindedness is frequently the refuge of scamps passing as intellectuals. They are for making that honest and terrible little word “‘sin’’ obsolete by calling it “‘con- sequences.’”’ The fact remains, ‘‘the wages of sin is death”’ no matter how much you elongate the word. I think colleges and universities should have a “Chair of Evil,” and so called, filled by a man of exceptional ability and more of a human being than a psychopath ever is, whose duty would be to expound August 20,1927 evil and tendencies leading toward evil, their history in human nature and their effects upon human character. At least half the scriptures of mankind are founded upon his victories and defeats over these tendencies. Why should he not take an in- telligent course, then, in the knowledge of evil ahead of the game that Nature, mind and spirit are sure to play with him? It requires a man of the highest integrity and intelligence, not merely a moralist, to teach this subject properly. The fact that young people receive no such legitimate in- structions explains the reason why so many of them get it from corrupt companions disgusting knowledge, not of life, but of vice. Unfortunately no such provision is made for you; only a few lectures in social hygiene, vague stuff on ethics, a little textbook biology. In this emergency I recommend some of the sixteenth-century literature when evil was more of a classic than it is now. It had an epic quality, lost now. And for you it would be merely informing, as it should be from the historical stand- point. Not so suggestive as those of an amateur in vice from whom you often reduced to get your information, since it is no longer possible in the civiliza- tion or social conditions where the scenes were laid. are SO The Tone of Time The idea I wish to convey is that young people should not risk vulgarizing their minds, tastes and characters with gross in- terpretations of the worst knowledge. Since you must and will have it, it is better to get it from a master, like Cellini or Shakspere. And finally, my young brethren, the only living classics are not books; they are older, mellower, wiser men and women of your own times. Fine elder masterpieces in pa- tience, honor, reduced now to things of good report in their memories and thinking. The fact that you no longer associate with them is apparent and a regrettable circumstance. Too many of you are raw sketches of your- selves made without a teacher; you lack the fine old grammarian’s passion for the right word properly parsed. You have a witty, obstreperous vocabulary with a heel kick, but not enough elegance. You need the tone of time, some cathedral shadows on your garish mind. You are frequently soulless sentimentalists without much ca- pacity for affection or reverence. In your effort to be smart you miss some of the high spots in human relationships. It seems to me the emotional episodes in modern life are singularly trivial. You will bury a fallen woman in a silver casket, but you are beginning to entertain very grave doubts about good women. I am telling you it is wrong. You should cultivate a few of the elder fashions in manners and ideality if you expect to escape the cynicism of a mean old age. Your mind will become some kind of a Sodom and you will be the Socrates of it. We elder ones are not such a bad lot. Years ago a certain man in this country had an iron foundry, and a contract to furnish certain arms, probably cannon balls, to the Confederate Army. The time came when he was in great financial straits and was about to fail. His friends heard of his diffi- culties and subscribed the sum he needed. Sherman’s Army came through after that, and destroyed the foundry, but not the shaft of granite he had raised to his friends there, with all their names and their deed inscribed upon it. They are dead long since, but sixty years later somebody found the monument hidden deep in the river forest beside the ruins of the foundry, chipped all over by Federal bullets, but the inscription still legible, commemorating the classic genius men of that period had for friendship. I suppose you will raise many finer memorials in your day, but not one so simply expressive of the archaic elo- quence of a noble and grateful heart. You may do big things—I believe you will—but see to it that you also accomplish some of the unaffected lowliness of the best things.

Page 131

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST This Liquid Mechanicold Luncheonette Makes January's Fountain Sales Equal July's No longer are fountains closed down when dog days Cutting Board— One Iced Salad and Sandwich Section are over. Liquid Luncheonette Units keep business thriv- with Condiment Jars and pans for sandwich filling, etc.; ing the year round. Electric Toaster; Bread Drawer; Cutting Board Typical combination illustrated at the top of this page Dealers are invited to write for prices, photos, full de- includes: One Soda Fountain Unit—One Steam Table Sec- scription of this and other combinations; and our partial tion with Coffee or Chocolate Urn; Steam Pans for hot payment purchase plan. Winter installations now being meats, gravy, etc.; Casseroles for soup, vegetables, etc.; booked. Write promptly to Dept. 8-s “4 We Quench the Thirst of Dry America— Yet Make No Drinks Ourselves - age 7 Luscious New-Way Sodas by Scientific Accuracy Independent of Weather and Guess This answers the question: “‘Why do I always get a bet- ter Soda at a Liquid Mechanicold Fountain?” It’s not alone because this fountain is electrically refrig- erated. There are other iceless fountains now. The difference is due to the five separate zones of cold which the Liquid maintains automatically, regardless of weather. Thus not merely some—but ALL ingredients are chilled —and each to the right degree. One zone keeps bulk ice cream at the proper consistency. It’s never mushy—never varying more than 2 degrees from top to bottom in the cans. Another zone keeps crushed fruits garden-fresh and garden-flavored. Another keeps the syrups cold and sweet Even on torrid days they can’t grow warm or turn rancid. And a fourth zone chills the soda water itself. For the colder the water, the better it retains the snappy, bubbling, effervescing gas. A fifth zone—for brick ice cream—keeps it so solid you can carry it 20 miles farther than ordinarily. Promise yourself to try your next treat at a Liquid Me- chanicold Fountain. Ten thousand, coast to coast, are serv- ing these new-way food-drinks. They’re the coldest, freshest, creamiest, dreamiest Sodas and Sundaes you've ever tasted. Look for the Liquid Red Diamond—that identifies the fountains that serve them. Or write Dept. 8-s for addresses of Liquid Fountains near you. Poa # THE LIQUID CARBONIC CORPORATION, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - 31 Branches and ™& ” Distributing Points World’s largest makers of Carbonic Gas, Bottlers’ Machinery, Bottlers’ Extracts and Soda Fountains

Page 132

130 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST CARTOON AND COMEDY ———— SHE'S ASLEEP NOW The Smithers Family Simutates a Hospital Nursery to Enable the New Baby to Get to Sleep “T's All Right, Cabby. I’m Just Passing Through”’ by ge 3 “ae e a Ca Hiram Puts On the New Fancy Glasses That Samanthy Ordered From the Catalogue August 20,1927 Here Comes the Bride First Bathing Girt: ‘‘What a Nuisance That a Convention Had to Choose Our Lake as the Scene of Their Annual Outing!’’

Page 133

as ee The style, woven into the Van Heusen, withstands the heat of the most humid day. Its unstarched comfort makes it easy and cool when ordinary collars wilt and cling. And its matchless economy at the lowered price will be proven when you are wearing this sum- mer’s Van Heusens next winter! THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Sa as EE ae : Sorte Tes ST e oe ‘i 4 bas . € § No starch. § One piece of multi-ply fabric. § Woven on a curve. § Fold is woven in. No orseams. § Won’t wilt or wrinkle. § Saves your shirts. § No saw edges. 12 Smart Styles VAN HEUSEN The World’s Most ECONOMICAL COLLAR. PHILLIPS-JONES, NEW YORK

Page 134

HEALTH ' and HAPPINESS largely a question of die rep too much oil or too rich a fF mixture of ‘yas’ to your motor’s j heavy. It loses it is with the A diet of rich, indi-

engine and it becomes its speed and power Ss I iuman mac hine gestible foods, sooner or later, results n misery. You can't be healthy and happy if your diet is wrong Proper eating and healthful living are bound to produce radiant, happy Authorities agree that in milk nature has provided every element es- sential to the proper nutrition of the body. Drink pure, rich bottled milk at mealtime and between meals, too Leading dairies everywhere de liver clean, wholesome milk in sanitary glass bottles. Glass Container Association of America New York, N. Y.

ee “Az

ee EE

Page 135

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | _ re bal Boe vould ¥ s to what ‘ f ) | quest ‘ r ? | gees gpd cage . meee nas tiv | than one co wig) that i then one ' ri Ge are very plesse’ © at @ plemish of & in rHIS BEAUTIFUL UPSON BOARD CEILING Upson Board ceiling in the home of Frances K. Rosenberg, Beverly Hills, California which won first prize for the best ceiling in the recent $2500 ° . ° Pl ; in nation. wide Upson Prize Contest. Try Upson Board in one room—you'll want it all = through the house. Nothing better for ceilings at any pri Other prize- 7 vinners in this nation-wide contest will be announced later contest with.. this permanent ceiling of lasting beauty = —— oe j No sprawling cracks can ever mar the beauty It proved Upson Board has 100 uses in 1000 , of the attractive ceiling shown above! places—for doors, closets, furniture backing, i No need ever again to apologize for unsightly wastebaskets, window bac sional yw lt-in or unsafe plaster. . od Impartial tests in nationally known laboratories offices, sign displays, booths and man. ial train. Fas ape : prove that Upson Board withstands impact ; Pie k. | | { B ni This ceil ng 1s [ pson Board . . . beamed and blows twice as great as plaster-filled boards tested Ing Work. t proved again Upson ard depend finished like expensive hardwood panels ...and which were twice as thick. ability showed why U pson Board has less i in . : , ¢C i -very & eet sold at a frac tion of the cost. Upson Fasteners (patented) make Upson Board one complaint to every 8,000,000 feet sold and The owner chose Upson Board because it re- yo one board that can be applied without used. : a : ; zs nail marks. ae te rege cg — La U Board ; ; Ask your nearest Upson lumberman about ler oa P ’ ‘ > 1 = pson oar is an x lient 1 ulator equi J erly applied, it shou d last as ong as the bul d meg oy thick: ma ctin of : a squeal i genuine ! pson Board. Y ou'll tind discriminat ing stands. ing lumbermen everywhere handle this famous 73 Ae c » FF ar, Properly applied, Upson Board should never Tey : : i as loday—after two years—the Upson Board ' ta fall Slue-center wall and ceiling material. +): . , warp or bulge—it can’t crack or fall. ceiling is as perfect as the day it was applied! Pp or bulge . cra > , The ready-sized Upson Board surf mal t You'll be pleased with pson Board, as are 100 uses in 1000 places possible to secure beautiful effects at a lower thousands of ae all over the country, If you q ao : . paint cost. The recent nation-wide contest for the best ” 7 have a single cracked ceiling —Upsonize today. installations of Upson Board proved that Up- oe 2 oe} wee eee ; Let us help you with sins and suggestions. The son Board is fittingly used in the finest home son Board and Fibre-T ul laser Upson Company, 807 Upson Point, Lockport, as well as the modest cottage. ee ee si _ New York. La UPSON # BOARD for walls... ceilings... partitions... insulation

Page 136

2

Y ene i” ~

O er U CAN’T THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

aking ten dollars look like sixteen FFER the average man an im- mediate gain of 60% on an in- vestment and watch the light leap in his eye. Buying Smith Smart Shoes is almost as good a proposition. They make ten dollars look like sixteen. This is not to say that sixteen-dollar shoes are not worth the money. Doubtless they are. But you will find in Smith Smart Shoes most of the things that make them worth it; counters of select leather, stitching that’s double throughout, uppers of

= 2

TR... WEAR li, such choice material that only 8% of the tannage of America will do. Where is the difference, then, be- tween the ten-dollar Smith Smart Shoe and its sixteen-dollar brethren? Ah! that’s for you to find. And as the months march by, and the good looks and the good fit and the firm comfort of Smith Smart Shoes continue in your service, you become increasingly sure that the difference is even less than you believed.

EE as a 0-8) Calf—at all authorized ° In "Tee Hickory Se JP Smim Shoe WRITE FOR

STYLE BOOK, OR NAME

OF NEAREST DEALER

4a ed. dealers ~~ August 20,1927

i

Fe ct: QO See, c-"

Page 137

oe ae aes Se ~ a a ~~. Qe See OO —~ c- - = (Continued from Page 132 But she felt sure she was right, was so confident in their true love that she pretended not even to recognize these irri- tated moments. One gets used to most things in time and it is quite possible that Cort would slowly have adapted himself to the new relation, that the ghost might have been laid, offstage, as it were, if it hadn't been for the matter of Mrs. Brackton. But when it came to Mrs. Brackton, Sally ran up against a real issue; no trifling, irritating difference to be condoned or ignored. Mr. Brackton was Cort’s superior in the bank. Mrs. Brackton had been in Europe since Sally’s marriage to Cort. She had returned now, and Cort came home one evening to announce that both the Brack- tons were coming to call. By the fact that Cort brought with him a box of maraschino- filled chocolates and a box of Mr. Brack- ton’s favorite cigars--since his mother’s operation, Cort had stopped smoking him- self or bringing candy to Sally—she knew that he considered the call to be something of an occasion. Knew this, too, by his ap- proving “That’s the girl!”’ when Sally put on her most becoming dress, a slim little gray chiffon affair above which her short curls gleamed like burnished gold. ‘You'll make a scandalous hit with the Bracktons.”’ So Sally did her best to. Mr. Brackton proved a pleasant gentleman with sound, conservative opinions and nice manners, a little set under a thin shellac of caution. The typical, successful New York banker. Mrs. Brackton was the kind of wife that only a successful man can afford to have. A blonde in the early forties, expensively preserved, exquisitely dressed. She had been indulgently protected from any life experience which might have shown her that most of her ic and she leas were wrong, so she expressed them freely, with an airy, smart intolerance. Exactly kind of woman whose very presence brought out in Sally all that was cocky and irreverent and red- headed. She carefully choked it back, however, out of courtesy, and love for Cort; re- membered that Mrs. Brackton was the wife of Cort’s superior and a person whom it would be only prudent for her to please. She evidently succeeded too. ‘I knew they'd like you!”’ Cort said tri- umphantly after they had gone. “How did you like them?” ‘He’s all right,”’ said Sally frankly, “but I think that they drowned one of the wrong kittens when they kept her.” Cort laughed. He would not admit it, but Sally guessed shrewdly that he did not practically enjoy the Bracktons himsel He did, however, them worth cultivating, so Sally 4 ‘termined best. Despite the fact that from the very beginning she eased 2 it was a hopeless task. Not but what Mrs. Brackton seemed more than willing. She had taken Rose under her social wing and seemed quite willing now to do the same for Sally. She vidently liked having a younger woman who would flatter her a little, defer to her, fill in at her parties; a younger couple to come for dinner or over the week-end when she could do no better; a young woman whose husband was her husband’s sub- ordinate made the perfect protégé. Un- doubtedly Mrs. Brackton had, in return, done a good deal for Rose. She was willing, prepared, to do quite the same for Sally. The difficulty was that there was nothing she could do for Sally which Sally wanted. Sally, in fact, was such an independent little redhead that she resented the mere having to waste any of her scanty leisure on a woman she did not like. Then, Mrs. Brackton’s favors were in the main some- thing Sally had to decline. Wednesday afternoon bridge parties—afternoon en- gagements were as impossible for Sally as for any business man-—intimate little consider to do her luncheons at Pierrot’s which would keep Sally out of the office three hours in the middle of the day. Mrs. Brackton refused to take position seriously. . Sally’ s She quite approved of THE SATURDAY it, assured Sally that it is very smart now fora young married woman to be working But Mrs. Brackton’s ideas of the way a young married woman should work would greeted with hilarity in any business office. She would telephone Sally at the busiest morning hour, all prepared for a long, chatty gossip; she saw no reason why Sally shouldn’t get off in the morning to go shopping or early in the afternoon fora tea. And the idea that Sally might ever work so hard during a day that she would be too tired for some impromptu evening festivity struck Mrs. downright whimsical. Oh, it was a friendship failure. Sally should have known this. She did, in fact, but because Cort so evidently wanted it and because she loved Cort, tried for several weeks to do her best —for months, indeed. It was midsummer before Sally realized suddenly that it couldn't be done. She had week-end at the Bracktons’ country place reluctantly, knowing well enough that it would not be the kind of week-end either she or Cort would especially enjoy. Dancing all Saturday night at the country club, drinking rather too much, a great crowd in for tea on Sunday. Getting back to the office at nine, Monday, worn out and razzled. However, Sally might not have realized that she couldn’ t go on if she had got back to the office at nine. That was what brought matters to a head. Nobody, Mrs. Brackton assured her Sun- day evening, was going to get up for the early commuters’ train. ‘You needn't worry,” she told Sally comfortably. ‘‘It will be all right at the bank. Most of the officials get in late Monday morning. And Cort’s coming in Mr. Brackton would make it all right anyway.” Mrs. Brackton loved her sense of Mr. Brackton’s business importance. ‘But I’ve got to get to an office too,” Sally protested anxiously. ‘‘And I won't be coming in with Mr. Brackton, you know. You won’t mind if I slip out early, before the rest of you are up, will you? I can get a taxi to come for me and not bother any- body.” The Brackton house the railroad station. On Monday morning Sally’s carefully ordered taxi did not come. A whimsical little way of country taxis. ‘Well, I hardly thought he would get here, when you spoke about it,” said Mrs. Brackton carelessly, over the nine o'clock breakfast. ‘“‘ They take care of their regular customers first and, having our own car, we don't call them often. Have another muffin, Sally. Mercy, child, don’t look so worried! Nobody ever expects a woman to be right on time anyway. Just give the big boss one of your pretty smiles and he’ll forget you weren't there on the tick of the oem Zs Sally reached her office at half-past eleven. She could scareely have chosen a worse day for bein There had been a directors’ meeting at ten. The two di- rectors who had important outside interests had left them to attend = Warlight himself, of course, was there ally was the corporation secretary. One i the stenographers had been pressed into service to take the minutes and had proved herself grossly inefficient, and could not, of course, affix the corporation seal. Sally, meeting Mr. Warlight in the outer office, reflected grimly on Mrs. Brackton’s facile remedy. Mr. Warlight would have taken a smile, pretty or otherwise, as a gratuitous insult Sally did not, however, tell this to Cort. They had agreed not to make their home a clearing house for minor business worries But she made up her mind right there that there was no use attempting to go on bei an intimate friend of Mrs. Brackton. This resolution was strengthened T were morn- ing, when the mail Sally to see about some lamp shades which Mrs. Brackton had ordered but which had not been delivered. A long-distance tele- phone to the store had not been effectual and she must have the shades by Thursday, have been Brackton as foredoomed to accepted an invitation for a was five miles from ¢ late office brought a note asking EVENING POST when she was giving a bridge party. W ally be an angel and ru er t ( t right away and keep right after then he said that the shades were on the wa Sally was sufficiently woman-wis ways of shopping to know that that would probably be an entire morning. She took office time for her there was no mistaking the iron hand in the velvet glove of Mrs. Brackton’s “ange and ‘‘Sally, you little dear.”’. In return for many social favors, Mrs. Brackton ex pected Sally to take time for hers But the nail, practical] n alread ceived its final sink ng | w on Tl ursda} Thursday was July first, the beginnir Warl ght Builders fiscal year I very rst since she had been there Sally had re ceived a monthly salary check pleasant larger thar t had been before Thre go Mr. Warlight had hinted that she might look for the usual increase tl montns a year. Late Thursday afternoon the office bo handed Sally her check It was f th same amount. There had been no raise For some little time Sally sat quietl) looking at the check. Was this mers reprisal for beir te on Monday? Mr Warlight was a quick-tempered man and t was possible But he was also a very lalr man, and Sally faced the fact that there had doubtless been other things too. Thurs day afternoons when she had s! pped away a little early to market for dinner, Thursday being Cristabel’s day off; Mrs. Brackton’s long telephone calls; luncheon with Mrs Brackton that had kept Sally out till three; days after dancing at some night club when she had bee *n too tired to keep her mind on the office activities There had undoubtedly been plenty of reasons. Sally was too honest not to admit this squarely. The salary check, with its mute rebuke, brought her to a sharp re minder that the ways of the lady of leisure are not those of the business woman. She had chosen one path and then allowed herself to be coaxed along the other Well, fortunately it was not too late to mend. The check had been © warning, that was all. Sally suddenly wre staring at the blue slip and went to work, checking the drafts of a contract in a very furor of con- centration. She had decided to wait until after dinner to tell Cort about her check. One does not bring up an unpleasant subject till after a tired and hungry husband has been fed. A bit of ancient wifel whi h > lly fol owed quite uncons« ously. It was not, she realized, a y good time to tell him, even after dinner. It was Thursday. They had planned to get dinner themselves. Sally, who had been going to bring the meat, had stayed at the office till after the butcher shops were closed. She ood technic reached home to find Cort already in straw slippers and a cool pong It had been a wiltingly hot day apartment was a peaceful ten degrees cool than the street Cort had said nothing in complaint of the e dressi gown and the change of plans, but he changed back to street clothes with an air of patient dis- appointment and ate his slice of tea-room roast and his anwmic salad with the air of a man somewhat borne down by secret Sally decided not to mention her dis appointment and warning this evening at all. Cort was in a mood that, in any bu bridegroom, would seem a b grumpy. She dropped into a | beside his in the breezy south window first-year Cheer up,” she said, “it’s only one more day till Saturday. We ght have Cristabel ] ; put us up a lunch and go picnicking up a Old Bea A picnic at Old Beach failed to win Cort to instant enthusiasm Ton ght, however, — Can't do it,”’ he said shortly ‘*The Bracktons want us out there again.” “Oh, Cort,” Sally’s exclamation was a wail, go to the Bracktons’ again over a week-end. There’s no way of being Continued on Page 137 Bennett Model 200 all-metal, drip-proof, dust-proof pump, with locking attach- ment. Assures clean handling of oil, alcohol, gas or kerosene in your garage. Destined to be Used in of HOME GARAGES / ILLIONS of peeple give personal extra care to their cars, trucks and tractors at home tuning engines, adjustments and attending to oil- ing at their leisure services of the ing the garage and Station, Thousands of these buying Model 200 Bennett Pump because it banishes leaky faucets and does away with barrels lying It stands lengthwise on the floor. at elbow height drum; fits into all sizes of openings; drains any depth of barrel. Model 200 is as well made as larger Bennett super-quality dis- pensing units in service at high- way filling stations from Coast to And, because it is made in this high-quality specialty sells $5.00 West of Rockies and Coast. large quantities, Bennett $4.80 in Canada. You should own at least Model 200 The Bennett name on any prod- your assurance of utmost quality in oil and grease dispensing uct is always B Anelt Pumps @CNI\ BUILT Benne P I Muskeg M (San F Gentle I for & 1B tM Na Ss \ rR Ci OIL MARKETERS and HARDWARE’ JOBBERS: the on top at making small supplement- public highway service people are of the equipment. Write for QUANTITY DISCOUNTS Corporatio; _ only one it)

Page 138

August 20,1927

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

In your hands-/Aés Camera APTURES LIFE!

=. . With Fitmo automatic motion picture camera you catch all the action. And with 5 Fitmo automatic Projector you re-create it, just as you saw it. g A subtitle here and there, and the movie story of your trav- els, outings, family, friends, is ever ready for visual retelling. ’ Take movies with Fimo, the original automatic camera for ' amateurs made by Bell & Howell, whose larger cameras are used in making practically all movies shown at best theatres. Exclusive Camera CGfeatures | aos ai a , ' San ’ ied Easier than taking snapshots. No cranking, no focusing, no 1. The spy-glass viewfinder. 5. Special mechanism for tak- shutter adjustment, no tripod necessary. What you see you Eliminates necessity for using ing automatic s-l-o-w motion > 7 more than one viewfinder, Ex- pictures optional. get, in two simple operations. (1) Find your scene in the cludes all light except from . | 5 “ ¢ : object to be photosraphed. 6. Extreme simplicity. } spy-glass viewfinder and (2) press the button. That's all. jec P : -* aliuiauaail . - 2 ; no well } ed 2. Iris Diaphragm dial figures ¢. Distinctive. Ornamental. i ; Eastman Safety f ilm (16 mm.)—1in the yellow Dox— used 1n visible in viewfinder. 8. Requires no tripod. Filmo is Fitmo camera, is obtainable at practically all stores handling —_3._ Twelve different lenses for _ the original automatic amateur cae | | = F . a = ek os d ¥ | | special purposes may be inter- movie camera, ‘ cameras and supplies. Irst cost covers Geveloping anc changed with regular lens. Bulle wich utmaoee precision ‘ postage to your door. T he n your movies are rei idy for 4. Asuperior quality F 3.5 lens givesprofessionalaccuracy with 44 t furnished asregularequipment amateur ease. i . : ‘ MO automatic Projector The ‘Projector WC oo ; See distinctive eF tLMOfeatures listed here. Tear off the bottom This is the automatic projector used by j 1 or of | rece show their own “‘sales’’ or “‘good-u cort ri this ad with your name and address written on —show they own, sales’ oy good ind send to us : will bring you the fully de scriptive FILMO _ ward, backward (fornovelty eff lenses interchangeable for varying pictures fo various requirements klet, WI t You See You Get,”’and nearest dealer's name. Described in Filmo booklet, “What You See You Get.” \ howing, any time, anywhere, with the simply operated y me iny leadin g inc dustric il firms to motion pictures. Shows your ity and brilliance. Runs for- ps on any single picture. Seven ae There is also Eyemo Camera, using standard (35 mm.) film, for those who may desire to commercialize P ry pictures Write for descriptive circular Reet & HOWELL COMPANY 1811 LARCHMONT AVE., CHICAGO + New York + Hollywood + London (B. & H. Co., Ltd.) + Established 1907

Page 139

Rg te ee Ss Se. 2 oe = —™ eS - Te Se c Continued from Page 135 Monday sure of getting in on time morn **We'll tip one of the taxi drivers,’ Cort answered. ‘‘He’ll get out there all right said S . ‘but I I can’t into the “He'll say he would,’ wouldn’t feel any confidence of take a possible chance of drifting I'd be craz with worry every minute of the week-end.” You wouldn’t ‘The taxi’d get there all right Sally felt office at noon another time need to be.”’ said Cort ier reluctance growing firmer n opposition, like white of egg in boiling water “You know nds of week-ends we'd both enjoy more than an there are a doze n k she challenged. They're other at the Bracktons’,”’ ‘Can't help that,”’ said Cort. have to go to the Bracktons’. counting on me for tennis.”’ ‘*Well, you go without me, then. play tennis anyway.” ‘I don’t want to go away over a week- end without you.” Sally felt herself weak- ening at this appeal. ‘*’ I don't ‘They'd think Mrs. Brackton would as a direct snub.” it Was queer as the dickens. lake “Oh!” The yreat promptness. weakening vanished with “You may be willing to spend the one free time you have out of a week in some doesn’t you any rest or pleasure,” Sally burst out, ‘“‘but I’m not.” She paused a moment, then decided she might as well go through with it. “I’ve made up my mind today. Intimacy with Mrs. Brackton is simply out of the question forme. I’ve never liked her, and I couldn't afford to play around with her, even if I did. I should have known better than nto it as far as I thing that vive to get have. There’s nothing left now but to begin to pull out of it as as I can.” be done,” said Cort shortly. ‘Liking Mrs. Brackton or not hasn't any- to do with it. Without Brackton’s friendship I won't get anything decent at the bank before I'm fifty.”’ A little pause, ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but ust have to make the best n, firmly: id you'll J Brackton.” For several seconds Sally stared at her eving that she could have Did he think he could make sion for her? That authoritative: ‘I’m afraid you'll just have t he best of Mrs. Brackton.” ‘Well you can spare yourself your fears, hotly Her red curls ‘“When I'm no longer free to own friends I won't be married; nusband, not bel heard him correctly her dec cool, oO make t said Sally I won't fairly sizzle d K my ( 1] be de ad!”’ pi I’ ‘This isn’t any matter of picking friends, said Cort. ‘‘It’s a matter of business.”’ ‘Then it’s a kind of business you count me out of. If it’s necessary for you to shape your life around pleasing the Bracktons in order to earn your living thank heaven it isn’t for me! You'll have to manage as best you can without me. | didn’t marry the bank.’’ There wa moments a dead silence for several ““Go ahead, and say what you're think feeling herself sud- i sense of impending uught it ever since we’ ve ng,’ Sally challenged denly trembling wit! panic. ‘‘ You'veth been married. You may as well say it out- ht. Go ahead and tell me that Rose al- ou thought best. That Rose was a better wife to you than I am You’re thinking it; you may as well say one r) ways did whatever 5 was a silence while Sally could own heart beating like a tom-tom. And then: ‘All right,’’ said Cort levelly, ‘I will say it. I love you better and I'd you, but I do think Rose was a near her rather have better wife was. Out in the open at last. | of enforced silence made up the quarrel before they Red-headed anger There it Stripped of any ve rhey went to bed that night s likely to change abruptly into quite as And both Cort and Sally started back in terror from the peril which passionate penitence t} they sud feet. ous edge of e precipice denly saw yawning at their very THE SATURDAY A ffrighted, they both took back all tha aq sald in anger tried desperately to brush it out of their very memories by the weep of their love They were a hundred times tenderer to each other in the followir g days are things one simply can’t forget I do think Rose was a better wife Cort’s words thundered at Sally above the office clatter during busy hours; whispered then ly, in her ear, quiet tormentin evenings in their apartment; seemed to ] > ’ . and, ilKe Rose S very t ghost, between her and Cort when she wished most agonizing to feel that they were growing closer Could they make a true this marriage wit! 4 ‘I love you grievance between them better and I'd rather have you.” Even Cort’s ameliorating phrases could not con fort Sa ly. They were what a man might say to his mistress ir the tion Were they riage can be built? Marriage that must ardor of infatua the solid rock of which real be made slowly of some granite of true a fortress and a refuge against the when infatuation will fly away and ardor must learn to be patient and wise? Si: was a true realist, unfooled by any false material pretense. She knew that ina room of solid wood and metal an a ghost one reality Could she and may be the ality a real marriage with this ghost between them? Cort make Even in the most commonplace of ma she knew there was much to be A man whose terial ways sald on the gnosts side wile takes care of him, whose sole job in life is to stand staunchly behind him in every way, is freed from countless numbers of the petty worries that might have held him back. A man who had all his life who was in constant been trained to competi- wouldn't expect tnis, tion with other men who had it he always feel himself at a disadvantage feel, under any Wouldn't he gallant pretense he might make, that he without it? was ber r cheated? while they were going about their prosaic everyday routine, Sally’s kept Cort’s with the un- , anxious question. And every glance left her more uncertain, with a constantly growing unhappiness. For, under their commonplaces to- under their very laughter and love, she felt a hidden, grim brooding. The juarrel had got under Cort’s skin too He j n she had meeting eyes spoke under Cort’s gether had not forgotten it any more tI Suddenly, days afterward, Sally came to the place where she could stand this silent, _y Knew that she could not go on any longer fighting it, unspoken suspense no long pretending not to see it—this in The when she and yet SIDi¢ phantom suddenly, inevitably, soundless, potent me came knew she had to have a show-down with the gnost Sunday evening Sally and Cort, It was a rainy Cristabel had gone home; eating their informal supper, had switched on one low light against the twilight gray ness “Cort.” Keep still about out and say whatever we Now. Don’t let’s wait t we're both mad to say it it’s worki said Sally suddenly, “let’s not it any longer. Let’s come ‘re really thinking ll sometime when Do you think ng things wrong for me to keep When you first said you neither of us We've got a better want me to on with my job? wanted me to, what it meant Do you stil about idea now. Cort, surprised by the unexpected direct ness, did not answer, puffing away at cigarette. ‘1 still want to,” still think we can said Sally bravely “] make a go ot it * Sineé paused amoment. ‘But I don’t want to be pig-headed. I’m willing to give the other al. Do vou want me to?” st Cort did not answer ‘I mean a really fair trial Sald 5S I don’t say that I could do Rose’s way a wel is sne did There ire some things she that I couldn’t and But there’d be plenty that I irn to do. Without a jol must Nave done wouldn t do could, or could le: could’ he swai G to complicate thi lowed a over a wryly EVENING POST exactly make up your mind to stay friends with a man, no matter now you teel about m, tor what ou can get out ol hin { toadying, whatever pretty name you ca t If ou lee that Wa about it, said Sally irious!| why do you do it? Because it ipparent the only w iy to get anywhere it «the Dank Otherwise everything yoes by seniority, no matter how good your work i There are four men ahead ol me not one of them more r ft han fifteen years olde an I am of them likely to leave the bank pretty dull waiting lor “And they do, I “sometimes pus! a uppose, Pally ad- man ahead out of favoritism Cort gave a brief and far from mirthful ‘The day you turned thumbs down on Mrs. Brackton,”’ he said I'd just learned that the job I’d been secretly counting on getting -and that I’d done most of the work fo was give over my head, to the bank.” cry was all re- had had his | that other night too. She slid over onto the arm of his chair, head. nephew ol tne pres dent of the ‘Oh, Cort!’’ Sally’s little morseful tenderness. Cort leaned her bright curls against his His arm came promptly around her They sat for a little while in silence while the iin spatted loud aga t the panes, you might get out of Sealy re- minded him ‘You have to get to a fairly conspicuous positio n the bank first,’ said Cort, “‘ be- lore you re f to have much come your way tne ne ol outside opportunities He pause en added x ept something that’s more or les speculative, ol course sd dal nodded And ou dont want to try anything pe liat U ne asked ‘I've never been where I felt I had any right to " said Cort “First there hool to think of y Sally patted his No need to make Sally felt that she ntly squandered dol Kept ! nose to the grindstone The hette apartment this eal he new | o and the fu oat next An exper e little person, Wanting to dress ind ¢ eM ) Ktor \ socially in ) ttie pe or A ) Ke eing a hanke wife i dependent tle persor who wo j e beer isned at ght- ened b 1 real reverse And a powerful persor ! pite oO ‘ ttlene ind her dependence owe ll with eve btle Wher ou al I got married 11d Cort, “I did think that maybe — then there was mother’s operatior Not,”” he added hastily, “‘that I didn’t thank God I was uble to take are o er ‘Tkr of the ir guard he manhood been pro CLUB RESIDENCES born of a fen ALLERTON System, known through out the country great nee d men nd women of formerly forced to forego the It has solved the prol lems of who were atmos phere their standards prompted but incomes prohibited ably with the finer hotels and service is well epitomi \ pay fo live in nine r A 8,7 l ‘ ‘ i All Allert : - are lecte 4 (>) _—_* t . 10 | ¥go—H OMS Allerton facilities comy ire favor \llertor rase “You

Page 140

H N Scales assure ac t i ; t no ] t the dial t tal l t l pre a lu 1 it } nay be easil I hed 1 ini S850 at vour local . postt & re nf ’ 4 \ H fe £ HANSON BROS. SCALE CO. — 7 519 N, Ada St Chicago, UL. f r Nur / sland D eScak bout 925 extra Want $25? i takis up Curtis work,” wrote Mrs. Helen Tracy of Okla homa, sox att she had been au thorized to act as our subscription ta he if vill bring you the i tC opportunity to cart \ UPTO DLS an hour mor 1 your spare time The Curtis Publishing Company 940 Independence Square Vhiladelphia, Pennsylvania THE SATURDAY likea faithful pack horse. Why, he had come, slowly, to take it for granted, to shape his life, his ambitions, his whole point of view around it. No wonder he had come to take for granted, too, a comfortable stall to come home to at night. “Good chances—even the fairly specu- lative ones—-don’t come every day or at your convenience,’’ Cort went on. “I’ve had to pass up two or three. Why, I'd go with that new fire-extinguisher company we've been investigating in two minutes right now if He stopped short. “Tf what?” Sally asked, rubbing her curls against his cheek. Cort didn’t an swer. “You're afraid it isn’t sound?” “Tf it isn’t,” said Cort, ‘I don’t know a sound proposition when I see one.” “Then why can’t you try it?’’ Sally asked. ‘‘Have they given you a chance?” “They'd give me a chance quick enough. They want me to go out and establish their Midwestern branches. I’d start as assist- ant treasurer of the company. It would be awfully interesting— getting local capital interested in the key cities. And after that, if all went well, I’d have a better title and someone else to do the traveling for me.” “Then why—or don’t you think you could raise the money?”’ “IT know very well I could,” said Cort. “It’s a proposition with tremendous pos- sibilities and I’ve correspondence contacts with most of the banks that I'd have to work through.” “Then why’’--Sally was frankly puz- zled—‘‘why don’t you try it?”’ “Simply,” said Cort, “because they just pay a nominal salary. It’s a case of future prospects rather than a lot of capital. But it’s so good they know they can find a man—and the right one—who’s game to gamble a year or so of his time and take stock in the company instead of salary.”’ ‘**And you'd like to try it?” ““Would I!’’ The sudden eagerness in Cort’s tone showed how spirited an animal it was that had been broken, through the years, to carrying a pack. “Then why don’t you?” Sally repeated, excitement quivering in her voice too. ‘*Goahead. We can find a way to manage.” Cort shook his head. “It’s no married man’s job,” he said. A little involuntary sigh. ‘It would be one swell chance for a bachelor, though.” “But, Cort,” Sally protested eagerly, “‘you aren’t a married man. Not in any business way. You’ve no wife to take care of. Why, honey, as far as business goes, you are a bachelor.” Cort smiled indulgently, as at a child. “T mean it,”’ Sally insisted impatiently. “Don’t smile in that superior way. It’s true. Look at the months we've been married. You haven't had one of the ordinary busi- ness advantages of marriage. You haven’t had a housekeeper or a valet or a handy home secretary. You haven’t even had a wife who was any real use to you socially. You’ve had every one of the disadvantages of a modern mar- riage. Why can’t you realize that it’s got at least one good point?”’ The indulgent smile faded a little off Cort’sface. His interest caught in spite of himself. “You're quick enough to spot the assets in any busi- ness partnership,” Sally pressed the slight advantage. EVENING POST “Why can’t you see this asset we’ve got? There’s no dependent woman to be thought of. The salary would take care of you by yourself, wouldn’t it?”’ “You couldn’t carry this apartment alone,”’ said Cort, “‘even if I were willing to let you.” “Of course I couldn’t,”’ said Sally. ‘‘And I wouldn’t need it alone. I never had but one room before we were married.” “You can’t go back to living in a furnished room,”’ Cort’s tone was outraged in its protectiveness. “Don’t talk tommyrot,” said Sally. “Of course I can. You wouldn’t be having much on me, you know, in your one hotel room or a berth in a Pullman car. We'd be gambling together, that’s all, on the chance of a home some day that would make this apartment look like a charity ward.” ‘Lord, I'd like to do it!’’ Cort admitted. “Tf I had a little money ahead, I would too.”’ “T’ve got a little bit,” said Sally, ‘that I had when we got married.’’ She giggled. ‘*My hope chest. Dollars instead of em- broidered towels. It’s precious little, but it would be there for any real emergency, in case you had to do something more for your mother, or something like that. We could each carry a sickness and accident in- surance. We ought to be able to rent this place furnished for enough over my room rent to pay the premiums.” Cort wassilent forseveral minutes. Then: **Suppose you lost your job?”’ he asked. “I'd do what I’ve always done when I lost a job. Get another.” A longer pause this time. ‘But I’d be away practically all the time, for the first year or so. Two or three months, maybe six atastretch. Wouldn’t you mind that?”’ This from Cort, who had learned about women from one who had sulked when he had to be away from home a single evening. “Of course, I’d hate it like the devil,” said Sally. ‘‘Wouldn’t you?” Cort drew her off the chair arm onto his knee, held her tight for answer. Sally relaxed a moment to the sweetness of it. Then she straightened again, every red curlafire. ‘‘ You wouldn’t let your own hating it stand in the way of doing the wise thing, would you? How can you think I would let mine!”’ “It’s different with a woman,” said Cort “She “Don’t!”’ Sally stopped him shortly, something almost of fear sharpening her voice. ‘Don’t talk sentimental twaddle It isn’t any A woman’s got just like any other now! This is too important. ‘different with a woman.’ guts or she hasn’t human being.”’ “But ” Fishermen in the Lake St. John District, Quebec all August 20,1927 ‘Cort, my dearest, this may be the turn- ing point of your whole life!’’ A very agony of appeal in her voice. ‘Turn whichever way you honestly believe is best. Don’t think of me as ‘a woman’ or ‘a wife.’ I’m just Sally. I know you'd protect me if I really needed it, but I don’t need it now. If things go right I’ll share in the good for- tune. If they go wrong I can stand it just as well as you can.” Battering breathlessly, defiantly, with sturdy small clenched fists at the walls that he had built through the many years walls of chivalry and tradition; a strong- hold for a popular ideal; a prison for a living man. “You-—you really think you could weather it?’’ The tottering of the walls sounded faintly in Cort’s voice. “ll work hard and play hard, and there’l! be letters, and we’ll be loving each other every minute, and the time will pass,” said Sally. ‘“‘Think I can weather it? I know I can! I’ve proved it. Why, dearest, don’t you see? I proved that I could live my life without you, years before I ever saw you.”’ There was a long silence. The street sounds from far below came muted and sweet; the rain beat against the window. “You know,” said Cort, almost shyly, ‘that’s the way I always used to figure on running my life. To live in some way so that I’d be free to take a chance whenever I felt sure it was the right thing to do. But someway or other I’d got to accepting the idea that that way didn’t seem to go with marriage.” “Well,” said Sally lightly, ‘‘it’s going to go with ours.”’ Such a thistledown of a remark. No heroics to hint the vastness of its portent. A woman lifting the pack off a man’s back; handing him freedom as lightly as she might have handed him a cigarette. For a long time they sat very close in the rainy summer darkness. Two hours later, while they were undressing, Cort said —and a new response to living registered in his quickened tone—‘“‘If I do go with those ex- tinguisher people, next month’ll be one busy time. There'll be a lot of things Ill have to wind up at the bank. And I'll have to spend a lot of time with the new people. Then I imagine there'll be a million details in our own private affairs to get into shape, renting this apartment and so on / Sally could see her husband's face, re- flected in the chiffonier mirror. “You’re thinking of Rose!” lenged. “Why, yes, Iwas,” Cort admitted; ‘just for a minute.” “Thinking,” Sally demanded, ‘that if you had Rose she’d tend to all those private details for you?’’ Cort shook his as Sally had known he would. Just a teasing ex- uberant gesture of sheer relief, that question. ForSally knew already that she and Cort could make their mar- now. Their own marriage, to their own design. Knew that the ghost that had stood between them was laid forever. “No,” said Cort gravely, ‘‘I was thinking tose she chal- head riage was a dear sweet girl,”’ he interpola- ted hastily, “and a good wife, but I was thinking ’’ — some thing of true com- radeship in his voice that nobody but Sally had ever heard—‘‘I was thinking that if I had had Rose I'd never have gone at = SS ~S S S a = Se ee ~ _— wee Se ee

Page 141

| ( = ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST hy | cook electrically- 138 #4 us ELECTRIC COORCTY 7S The message of my Hotpoint Super-Automatic Electric Range is “WIKE all modern women, I want as much time free from household cares as possible, but I don’t want it without well-prepared meals. So when we needed a new range I tried to find the way to get best results with least effort. And now I cook with electricity! It is so much sim- pler. I can put the children’s lunch in the oven while I am busy with other things —just set the automatic time and temperature controls and I am certain their lunch will be ready when they come in hungry from school or from play. My De Luxe Hotpoint Range. There are 18 styles and sizes of Hotpoint Electric Ranges — one for every purse and purpose. (At Right) The Hotpoint Auto- matic Electric Water Heater pro- vides HOT water at the turn of a switch. There are sizes and prices to meet any need. afternoons are my own, too, with a Hotpoint Automatic Electric Range. It’s really like having a maid. Into the oven go my roast, potatoes, vegetables en casserole, pudding—and when | come home dinner is waiting. I can try new recipes with as much assur- ance as old ones. Cooking scientifically, with accurately maintained correct heat, gives better results every time. In summer my kitchen is always cool and its shining cleanliness is a joy. The smooth, white porcelain cooking top of my range is as clean as a china plate; the curtains and walls stay clean and fresh and my cookingutensils keep brightand new. When I pick up my faithful Hot- point iron I often wonder how I managed before its invention; and often when 1am servinga meal which hascostme little time oreffort1 think: I could never have done this if I hadn’t insisted on a Hotpoint Electric Range in our new home.” MopERN Hotpoint Super-Iron with the patented Thumb Rest, exclusive Hinged Plug, patented CAI ROD heating element (practi cally indestructible), attached Heel Stand, etc. No other iron can give all these advantages Price $6.00. At dealers’ every- where. a Horpoint Electric Ranges are sold by thousands of Electric Light Companies in various parts of the country, practically all of them giving special, low cooking costs. As soon as all electric companies can take care of the demand, this great new convenience will be made available everywhere. Ask your local lighting company if they can supply electric range service in your neighbor d write r complete literature and information on Hotpoint electri y*kery EDISON ELECTRIC APPLIANCE CoO., Ine. World's largest manufacturer of electric ranges and household electric heating appliances 5600 West Taylor Street, Chicago. Factories: Chicago, lil., and Ontario Calif. Branches and Factory Service Stations in the principal cities In Canada: Canadian General Electric Co., Led., Toronto SERVANTS

Page 142

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 A AA RE TAT indorse: to ap | appreciate; recogn:, full value; accemie® 7 worthy and ri § These outstanding Automobiles, Coaches, Trucks, and Axles are equipped with Bendix Mechanical 4-Wheel Brakes Cunningham Erskine Falcon-Knight Hertz Drivurself Hudson Super-Six Lincoln Locomobile 90 Locomobile Jr. 8 Little Marmon Marmon 75 Oldsmobile Overland “Whippet” “Whippet” Six eertetin i Packard Six Packard Eight Star Car-Cal. Stearns-Knight Studebaker A. C. F. Coaches Autocar Trucks Federal Trucks G. M. C. Trucks Stewart Trucks Trailmobile Eaton Axle Salisbury Axle Timken Axle seeenatinys OUR dictionary’s definition of “indorse’”’ states in ex- act terms what America’s leading automotive manu- facturers think of Bendix Mechanical 4-Wheel Brakes. Safety in connection with any vehicle is chiefly a question of dependable brakes; the kind of brakes that will bring ittoastop quickly, evenly, without skid. Bendix Brakes with their 3-shoe self-energizing construction are made for safe stopping. The cars, coaches, trucks, and units listed here—repre- senting various price classifications—are equipped with Bendix Brakes; the finest possible evidence that their builders are working to the result of vour safety, your comfort, your mental security. BENDIX BRAKE COMPANY General Office and Plant: South Bend, Indiana Division of Bendix Corporation, Chicago

Page 143

> =>; — me —— a — THE SATURDAY ME—-GANGSTER Continued from Page 25 Right away Slug horned in: ‘‘ How do we know? What are you gabbin’ about any- way?” That was to steer us that Slug did not trust the dick, so nobody answered. “Yeah,” the dick sneered, “I suppose you guys been sittin’ right here all night, eh? Talkin’, you was. Tellin’ parlor stories and havin’ a little meetin’ between your- selves!”’ Twist, as I have said, was very smart. Right away he took up the idea that we had been there all night. “Sure,” he said, “we had a poker game. Ask Clancy. We started playin’ about ten o’clock and_ played straight through.” A funny look came over the detective’s face and he rubbed his chin with his fingers. “That ain’t so bad, at that,’ he muttered after a while; ‘‘not so bad.’” Then he went to the stairs and called for Clancy. The saloonkeeper came up, and the dick said, “I ain’t been here this mornin’, Clancy, see?”’ Clancy nodded, and the dick went on, “‘ But I will be comin’ here in half an hour and I'll be after Danny an’ Jimmie Murphy. They got a call out for ‘em. But you get plenty of cards and poker chips up here right away and be ready to swear that these kids have been havin’ an all-night poker party. Started at ten last night an’ still goin’ on.” He went downstairs and Clancy got the cards, and we smoked a lot of cigarettes and threw the butts around, and in a few minutes we felt we could fool anybody. But I want to tell you that I felt pretty shaky in half an hour when three cops, with the detective, crashed the door and covered us with rods. We pretended to be surprised, and acted like we were just finishing up a game, but I admit I was scared pink. ‘‘We want you, Murphy, and you, too, Danny Critch, fer that shootin’ last night. You better come easy an’ gentle!’’ It was the crooked detective talking, and he made it sound good. I could not speak, but Danny was great. “Sure,” he grinned, cool as a cucumber. “What shootin’—crap shootin’?”’ “Never mind that!” the dick snapped. “You two guys just break out of that an’ come along. We'll talk it all over with the captain.” Then he turned to the cops and told them not to disturb anything in the room, and for one of them to stay there till he was relieved, and not let anybody come in or leave. That made me feel better, because I knew that he had brought the cops really for witnesses. Danny and me went along, and the dick said that somebody from the district attorney’s office would come and talk to the rest of the gang. Introduced With an Alibi At the station the captain told us we were crazy to go gun fighting, but he did not ask many questions. He let the de- tective tell his story. “When a call went out for these lads,” the dick said, ‘“‘I thought I would try Clancy’s place. When I went in Clancy said, sure, they were upstairs plavin’ poker. I went up and found them in a game. I brought them along, but Clancy says they have been playin’ there since ten o'clock last night, an’ none of them had been out at all.’”’ He stepped back of us, and as he went he winked a little, and that made me feel safer. I could see that our alibi would be a hard thing to beat, with eight guys to swear nobody left the poker room and with Clancy ready to do the same thing. ““You’ve been identified as a member of the gang that shot up a saloon last night,” the captain said to me. ‘“ Knowin’ that Danny and you are pals, we put in a call for both of you.” “‘Somebody’s a cock-eyed liar,’””’ Danny answers steady and easy. ‘“‘We never left Claney’s.”’ “I believe you, boys,”’ the captain says, “but I’ll have to hold you till we get this thing straight. I won't question you, but you probably want a lawyer.”’ I could see the captain was as scared and upset as we were “It don’t take a lawyer to say we never left Clancy’s,” I said, making a show at being easy in the head. We sat around the captain’s room for a while and then my old man came in. He asked me to tell him the truth, so that he would know what to do, but I figured the poker alibi was so good I had better bet on that. You know, there was a chance that the big boss might not go through for the old man. Nobody can really fix a killing if they hang it on you, and, anyway, I did not want the old man to have too much on me. | told him I had been at Clancy’s all night. The Law Leads an Ace While he was there a man from the district attorney's office came in, and he was very nice, but sure was after informa- tion. He asked us a few questions and all we said was that we had never left Clancy’s. Then he had five bums from the station picked up and he brought them into the room and lined them up with us. In a few minutes they brought in two of the up- town gang to look at us, and I thought I was going to drop. One of the guys had his head bandaged and the other had his arm in a big sling. They were the two we had left on the floor. The guy with the band- aged head came in and walked down the line. He looked at every man very care- fully. When he came to me I saw a funny light in his eye. For just a second he looked me over, his face white and his eyes very bright and knowing, then he p.ssed on. When he finished the line he turned to the captain and said: ‘“‘I can’t be dead sure, but I don’t think any of the gang is in this line-up.”’ I thought he was game then, but afterward Danny said he was not game; he was just mad and wanted to bump us off himself if we got out. That lack of identification bothered the man from the district attorney’s office, but it pleased the captain a lot. I could see that. At first I thought we were going to be let go, but the district attorney’s man had another ace up his sleeve. He brought in a newsboy that had been selling papers on the corner when we went into the saloon to start the shooting As soon as the kid walked into the room he came right up to me and said, “‘ That’s him, mister. He was one of them. He was the first one out of the automobile, but the rest of these guys ain’t the gang!”’ The man from downtown laughed, but before I could deny it, the captain had cut in like he was afraid I would say too much ‘Better watch out, sonny,” he said to the newsboy in a friendly way; “you're sayin’ a whole lot when you say that! It might mean this man would be killed, and maybe you are wrong.” ‘I ain’t wrong!”’ the kid says. “‘J'll swear I ain’t. Gee! I'd know this guy anywhere. He was the only one I saw good, because as soon as I guessed what was up I ran away The captain set ned worried and acted us though he did not want to say too much before the man from downtown. I took my cue from him and said not a thing. All through the trial and everything, I never cracked a word. ‘“‘He hangs it on you pretty strong,” the man from the district attorney's office said “*T guess all we can do is make a pinch, un- less this kid changes his mind.” ‘I won't change my mind!” pipes up. I could have killed him easy about that time. ‘“‘I know this guy. I ain’t wrong!”’ ‘Lock him up, captain,” the downtown guy said. ‘‘Hold him as a suspect for (Continued on Page 143) the kid EVENING POST te ou can taste its important salt that protects tHE MouTH of YOUTH ASTE IT on your brush! Instantly pe get the sharp tang of the im- portant salt in Pebeco which starts the mouth glands functioning as they should. On the fluids they pour out depends the sweet and healthful cleanliness of your whole mouth. If they are allowed to slow up, decay sets in. Pebeco was especially formulated to keep these glands so vigorous decay ts prevented, teeth and gums stay wonder- fully healthy. Brush your teeth with it regularly. All the time your mouth will feel sweet and fresh as a child's. Made by Pebeco, Inc., Fink Products Company. Sole Lehn & Fink, Inc., Bloomfield, N. J. Distributed in Canada by Lehn & Fink (Canada), Limited a division of Lehn & Distributors, 1. These glands need exercise One pair ts back near the throat Our soft foods fail to promote the flow of the fluids that pre- vent decay. Pebeco keeps them vigorous just as hard chewing would, inother pair lies in the cheeks. 3. The third pair is just un derneath the tongue. 4140 ive SNOB | O Oo ~ iL Uv > Os) +} 4 Lehn & Fink, Inc., Dept. L-76, Bloomfield, N.J Send your sample tube of Pebeco | me free new large-size | Tooth Paste FREE OFFER Send coupon today he Il Name | Street Ci Slate L for generous tu

Page 144

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST During the last several years a new and higher standard of riding comfort has been estab- lished in motoring. The reason for this is the elimination of vibra- tion, most of which can be credited to the introduction of Nelson Bohnalite Pistons. This brand new development in pistons is made of a new metal called Bohnalite. Being lighter and more durable, Nelson Bohnalite Pistons enable motor car manu- facturers to lighten all reciprocating parts. The gratifying result gives you greater comfort —greater speed—greater pickup—greater power. Many of the leading cars now come equipped with Nelson Bohnalite Pistons. If you would enjoy a really superlative perform- ance, select a car which 1s equipped with this latest comfort-providing contribution— Nelson Bohnalite Pistons. BOHN ALUMINUM & BRASS CORPORATION »w DETROIT, MICHIGAN Also maker fam nous Bohn Ring True Bearings BOHNALIT PISTONS To manufacturers: New uses are being found daily for Bohnalite—a new discovery in metals—in substituting it for other metals at a considerable saving and advance in efficiency. Write and let us suggest possible uses to you. August 20, 1927 ~~ } ! , —- ~

Page 145

eS ee —» _—s Sa — OS ees SE — Pe ~eeny a “2. Se _

Continued from Page 141 homicide. I'll talk with you over the tele- phone in a little while. Let him have a lawyer if he wants; give him the breaks. I know his old man here pretty well.” All of a sudden my old man seemed a hundred years older. His face looked like it did that time when Fletch was bumped off, only it looked worse. He never could talk much when he was like that, but he came over to me and said, ‘‘ Whatever hap- pens, keep your fresh young mouth shut.” Then he beat it I kind of thought he would go straight to the big boss, but I was not sure. The captain let the bums go, and Danny too. As Danny went out he gave me the wink, but I never hated to see anybody leave me like I did to see Danny go. After a while the captain got rid of the district attorney’s man, and then he came to me and sat down and drummed on the table for a minute, and finally he said, ‘Good night, kid; this is apt to be a h mess !”’ *‘Can’t you shut up that newsboy?”’ I asked him. “If they believe that kid I might even—might even git the—the chair for this!” ‘You was there, wasn’t you?” he asked. “You and all that gang at Clancy’s?”’ “Yes, I was,”’ I told him, something in- side of me kind of quivering when I thought of the electric chair; ‘‘I was there. We all was— but you better not

When a Lie Will Not Pass

I was just going to crack to him about what I had on him splitting with the old man and bumping off Fletch, but the way he answered me I knew he was my friend **T’ll do whatever I can, kid,” he said, his ig quite the same as my old man’s | never see you take the rap if I But it’s a bad mess—a rotten face lookir had. “I'l can stop it. mess.”’ *‘Scare that newsboy pink and shut him up,” I said “Not now. That would be the worst thing in the world 3ut if they ain’t got anything more than that on you, they ain’t got much. No jury would convict you on that—not with the alibi you got. I'll handle it. Don’t talk to anybody—not even your oldman. He knows I’!] do what- ever 1 can to beat this racket for you.” ‘“*IT won't talk,”’ I said, but believe me it was pretty tough going back to that cell even if I had all the cigarettes I wanted, and got my own way, except for being locked up. It was a tough rap to think of all the gang free and me in the can just on account of that newsboy. There was Danny and Twist and Gat and Nick, and even Slug—him that had burnped off the poor driver—all free; and I was the one that was collared for the whole works. But I promised myself I would not talk no matter what happened. The next three months got pretty bad. As long as that newsboy stuck to his story I was in for it. Even the district attorney wanted to drop the case against me. I guess the old man went after him and told him he would lose every vote in our district unless he played the game, but he could not play too strong. He had to show the public a trial. Finally the old man got me a lawyer and demanded an immediate trial, because the captain said that was the best way to beat the case. By that time the papers had shut up a little about the shooting and we were ready to go to the bat. All the police want when a big case comes up is a pinch, and they already had me, so the other guys in our gang were not worried very much, They never got a mention. They used to come and tell me how game I was and how regular for not cracking anything, but I got sick of that. Finally Mary Dix came to see me and she told me my mother was pretty sick over this thing and that my father was changing. She said the old man had wanted to run for alderman, but the big bosses would not stand for it. I guess that worried him more than what might happen

THE SATURDAY to me After I had been three weeks ir stir, my mother was able to come to see me, and at first I was gla

and looked at me in the funniest way you ever saw, and after a long time iid, ‘Jimmie, did you do this awful th “No,”’ I told her, ‘I never killed any- body. You oughta know that “Was you with the g: when they did all that comes back at me. I lied to her. ~“—e. | sald, “7 never knew a thing about it For a long, long time she looked at me,

and finally she got up, and she seemed to be bent over more as she stood there There was something strange in her eyes —some- thing I never want to see agair Her mouth looked kind of green around the and her cheeks were as pale as fleecy white clouds. She just stood there for a long time and I reached out and caught her hand and tried to say somethin At last I got a little sentimental, I guess--because mothers make a that-—-and I kissed her hand. She} me a minute and then she put her arms around me and drew me close to her and kissed me on the lips. Before I could Say or do anything, she was talking: “You never could lie to me,” she said. “You ought to know that, Jimmie. I know you were with that gang. I can see it in your eyes. I don’t know what on earth is going to happen to you, but I do know that I married a crook and now I’ve brought one into the world too, and I guess I’m sick of it all, and don’t believe in any- thing any more.”’ That was the way she went away from me, and I felt pretty rotten. I guess she could always see right through me. Mary Dix kept on coming to see me, but every time she came she would shake her head about my mother, and about two weeks be- fore the old man made them bring me to trial on the newsboy’s evidence, Mary came in one day, and I knew she had been crying and was ready to start right over again any minute. ‘Don’t be seared of this case, M ary,” I told her, trying to cheer her up. ‘I'll beat it as sure as you're a foot high. What have they got on me? The word of a kid, that’s all! Look at who I got for witnesses in Clancy and Twist and Danny and all the rest of them.” ‘I ain’t seared of the case, Jimmie,”’ she told me. “‘It ain’t the case. I hardly ever think of that. It’s—it’s your mother. She sees through you so well happy because your father isa —a—a “Crook!’”’ I blurted out. ‘‘Say it. You can’t hurt my feelings about the old man, I know what he is. In his own way I guess about everybody is a crook.” “Not only that’’— Mary plunges on lik she had a lot more to say and was going to say it all before she lost her nerve —‘“‘not only that. Your mother hates herself be- cause she feels she brought another crook

r, but could not

and she is so un- }

into the world.”’ An Accusing Conscience That meant me. I was quiet for a min- ute, but I could see my mother had filled Mary full of women’s notions, and I did not want her to turn against me. I guess I showed some temper. I said, “‘“Aw, Mary, cut that babble about women. My mother is gettin’ old and what she thinks I can’t he vs

p. Buta guy has got to Right there Mary started cryir and I put my arm around her and tried to make her quit, but she kept on, and finally, with her face buried on my chest and her words coming in jerks and muffled tones, Don't say tnat, g again, she said, ‘‘ Don’t say that! Jimmie. Your mother is—Jimmie, she’s dead!” That night I did not sleep in my cell. was wide-awake and all upset. All nigh long I remembered what my mother hac said when she left me, and the way she hac looked. I wondered if she had died on ac- count of me. Maybe I had killed her

EVENING POST

i hrough the big boss, the old man got ) t t ’ nar r ea rne ind managed to! ‘ n ght up right after mr moth j } vo tot fury Vas ed 1 ne el me go ) ‘ ineTa

ut there was a strange dick on each side o me and eve ry body gave me the gl issy eye, so I felt sure they all guessed it was my tauit that my mother died. The old man felt pretty confident that I would beat the case and he made a lot of I guess he figured he was in for it anyway, and might as well use o build himself up with voters. He pre- tended that the whole th frame-up to blacken me so that his political future would be damaged. I read in the paper ai talk about!

tf

ig Was cents every

“Oh 2) what a soft towel!” TOWELING

Page 146

wit

At the Soda Fountain Vo erves special ir soda fountain man de- credit forp aying a bit more for *‘DOUBLI Malte ] 1 Milk h an extra quality malted ilk drink. Ihompson'’s Malted Food Co Waukesha, Wis Der 240) a ee Oe man asnenararerenanasases arama dibal TIHOMPSON’S IT’S “DOUBLE It’s MALTED" ook for the ery i ways wanted to be a soda-clerk,”’ he said sadly nifty drinks for soft eyed girls and big eved kids i f this d packing business Heads of Families,too | ing Thompson's Chocolate E MALTED MILK at home B37 The head of a large corporation stood looking as wistfully as a small boy THE SATURDAY

outside a circus tent, at a natty soda-clerk who was doing his stuff. “Tal behind the counter mixing I never wanted to be in / Now at Last f/ Now Thompson's has made it possible for anyone to make a genuine, “real professional’ Chocolate Malted Milk at home. And do it in fifteen seconds Malted Milk that dissolves immediately weight in other foods the coupon for the biggest cot “DOUBL

1} hompso n’s to serve you

ng jar at the 5 O teal} p? fe Choc Cate J aluminu - ee Pee fae o ugh $-d Sar of Th mpson’s Sweet DOUBL NIALTI Db” *Malted Milk for whi OR By a secret process Thompson's has produced a into a shaker or mason jar, pour in the milk and s Sweet Chocolate Flavor Malted Milk DOUBLE MALTED"” All vou 8 is put two spoonfuls hake for fifteen seconds There Are 30 Glasses in fF Pound You ean get Thompson's Chocolate Flavored in one and five-pound packages With five-pound cans, you get a big 75¢ full pint solid aluminum shaker free \ » ‘ , ‘ por Ene F In the secret process of making Thompson's, the vitamins are not destroyed ind the activity of the enzymes which help to digest other foods is main tained. Thompson's not only digests itself, but digests many times its own That is why a glassful during the day gives you almost mstant energy while at bedtime it gives you rest and sleep Get Thompson's today at any grocer’s or druggist’s, or, if you prefer, mail ipon Value we have ev er offered

é SStong/" Matrey Mirks j,, 60s MALTED”

EVENING POST where the weight is and the us!” Danny said the same thing, and they started planning out a couple of jobs that would put us on Easy Street. I was scared to tackle them so soon, because, after being in the can, I could see how cops might work when they were sore on a guy, and I thought they might be following me a lot. But Twist and Danny got pretty nasty and said they had played the game as well as I had, and had gone in to testify for me, and the best thing I could do was play the game with them. Nick Capos and Slug Dolan sided with them, and Gat Malone went so far as to say that I would find, if I quit them, that they did not care much who they shot at. That meant me again. Mary was after me all the time to get a regular job and go straight. I asked her a good many times to marry me, but she never would. She was a bashful kid and it was a long time before I learned that she really loved me, all right, but remembered what happened to my mother and was | afraid she, too, might bring a crook into the | world. Between the gang and Mary and the old | man, I hardly knew which end I was stand- | ing on. Then, to add to it all, the gang from | uptown sent word to me that they would pron everything square if I would talk with \them. I was scared to go up, for fear it was |a frame to get me bumped off, but I sent | word back I would play the game and meet them halfway and call everything jake so | there would be no more shooting. i never mentioned this to our gang, because, ex- cept for Danny, I was kind of anxious to shake them off. Things were getting too hot. Thoughts about the smoky chair up in that gray death house make a guy think new ideas, and I had done a lot of thinking while I was in the can. Word came back that we could meet at a hotel, and I felt pretty safe on that deal. big hotel is no place to stage a gun fight, so I took the chance. Then it was that I met Lefty Todd, the fellow who had refused to identify me down at the station that time. He came up to me and grinned and held out his hand. I kind of liked him at first sight. I figured a guy that can grin at you after you have busted his head open with a shot must be pretty regular. We shook hands. ‘Things ain’t breaking too tough for me, Jimmie,” he cracks, ‘‘and I’ll go for a nice supper downstairs in the grill.’”’ y will lay off’n The Hatchet Buried Down we go, and I got to say that Lefty knew how to make friends. The first thing he did was to shake again and swear that all was jake between us and there would be no more shooting. Then I told him on the square that I did not pull the first robbery of that gambling house in his district, and 1e believed me. He asked if I would play the game with him and between us tie up the works for the whole town. He meant by that that we could run both gangs and ut into real money. “Guys are running gambling iround here that have a take of twenty zrand a night,”’ Lefty said, meaning that ‘rooked gamblers caught chumps for $20,- 000 a night in some of the dives that were supposed to be high class. ‘‘I know the racket here, and with your old man’s pull to use, we can clean up.” “I'd rather do that than throw guns,”’ I admitted. “Sure thing!’’ he snaps. ‘‘And the gambling ain’t all, Jimmie. Why, there’s one house in this district that enough dope every week to sink a battle- ship. Two guys that I have something on are runners for the joint and we can take the owner for plenty through them.”’ It was in my mind then to make a quick clean-up and take Mary and blow the town. I was sick of the old man and I never got over worrying about what killed my mother. I knew that there were better ways to make money than stick-ups and rob- beries. Make it the way some of the crooked lawyers did—that was what I houses peddles August 20,1927 planned. So I said it was a bet and we shook hands again and had another bottle to seal the bargain. Then Lefty opened up some more. “Guys that goin the gambli ling houses are rich sometimes,”’ he said. ‘The average bum could not do what we can, Jimmie, be- cause we know how to dress and have a fair sounding lingo. All we got to do is find out the big mugs that break the law and then let them know we are on to them. They'll pay for silence.”’ “Blackmail?” I cracked. “Call it that if you like better ways.” “How?” I asked, pretty smart, at that. “Well,” he says, ‘‘one of my pals is an assistant district attorney. All he needs is a little help from a guy like your old man and the thing is set.”’ ““My old man never would help me none,”’ I told him. ““Mebbe he would never know he was helping you. Those things can be worked. You see, the idea I got is for you to pretend to go straight and then get a job with this pal of mine. He runs a law office on the side, and you could work there. That will make it look to others like your old man is his friend, and that is enough.” “I’m game for that,’’ I said, thinking I might kid Mary with the same racket. “That’s a cinch.” but there are thinking Lefty was A Crack at the Old Man Lefty laughed to himself and we finished our drinks and went to see the assistant district attorney. He was a crooked lit- tle rat and his scheme was simple and safe. He was interested in a gambling house and could get the names of rich men who played. Then hewould start to indict them through another assistant district at- torney, and when they squealed his out- side law office would manage to stop the thing before it got to the grand jury. Of course he cut in for a fat fee for acting as their lawyer. Him and Lefty wanted my name to use on account of the old man’s pull. That night I told my old man about going straight and starting the new job. When I told him where it was I thought he was going to faint away. “That little pup,” he bellowed, meaning the assistant district attorney, “‘has been trying to horn in with me for the last two years! He knows I could break him if I wanted to. You tell him to take his job and go to the devil. Anyway, you couldn't go straight! You're just naturally rotten!” That crack from my old man made me rave inside. I felt just like I did that night he hit my mother with the glass from the desk—mad all through. His hands were soft and white nuw, and I figured he was getting older and could not fight so good as he did before. So I came back at him. ‘Rotten, am I?” I shouts. “A fine guy you are to say that about anybody! How about yourself? How about the foreman down on the docks splitting up with you? How about the captain luggin’ in a split on the take from Clancy and Moriarity, and how about the woman with the red shades on her windows?” That funny look came over his face again and I knew I had him on the run. I felt that the show-down had come at last and I would do better leading aces than holding them, so I went right after the old man: “‘T know a heap more too. I even know a thing or two about poor Fletch who was bumped off down by the gas house! I could go on talkin’ a long while without makin’ you repeat yourself in rememberin’ things! Don’t talk to me rotten. You're as rotten as a man ever was! “And get this straight and like it: I’m goin’ to wo rk for that guy mornin’, and if ever he loses his job I'll crack to him about Fletch = the and I'll raise a lot of fire that put out. You can’t run a bluff on me any more, old boy ‘ft

about bein’ tomorrow foreman you'll never (Continued on Page 146

——_—— SS ee oe = ee oe . eee. = eS - Eee. ee oe =—_ > > —- ~we so ~< “= ad —- a “se

Page 147

oe SO 5 gr Re = a eee eee ce . > —- ~ _— SR EE er _ ~ _ SATURDAY EVENING Y OaveL velvets transform motoring Into a more gracious and pleasing daily experience— for which tens of thousands of car owners, especially women, are truly thankful. It is a joy to step into a car upholstered in these sovereign fabrics. The lustrous surfaces are animate with changing color, the tex- tures soft and yielding. To ride in such interiors is to surround oneself with the beauty of - oF ¥ & a tasteful home—the same at- mosphere —the same charm. There is added satisfaction in knowing that the loveliness of CA-VEL is not a fleeting beauty. It is a beauty that endures through long years of service— a beauty that remains fresh and inviting even longer than the life of the car itself. Neither will the surfaces of CA-VEL velvets ruffle or rumple, because the yielding pile always resumes \ \ \\ \ \ \\ 1s AN \ \ . A ae ~ Vv¥etgTts © | i IN a its shape as soon as pressure is removed. CA-VEL is so durable as well as beautiful, it has so many practical advantages, that the majority of fine closed cars are upholstered in these fabrics. When you buy your next closed car inquire if the upholstery is CA-VEL so that you, too, may assure yourself of a greater motoring satisfaction. Collins S& Aikman Company, Es- tablished 1845, New York City.

Page 148

THE HYDROSTATIC GASOLINE GAUGE Ti Z eo [GAS wa a PeActions ALENTIA Til be glad when every car has a Telegage gallon O one has welcomed the widespread adop- for j tion of the K-S Telegage more than the re Trey Telegage Accuracy galion honest gas station man. Before he starts to ‘ pump, the faithful red column tells how many gallons remain in the tank. When he delivers Standard equip- ment on 22 leading minha those 10 additional gallons. And a glance tells plets, ready to inseal’ if there is room for more, and how much. No cary, as follows: arguments, no disputes—for both dealer and motorists have learned they can be certain tactwry, as follows (When writing, specify year and model of your car) ae $8.50 with the Telegage. 4 Only a precision instrument accurate beyond a the shadow of a doubt could win the established akland position reached by the Telegage. It now pro- r tects the fuel supply of a million motorists—is . D4 50 seen on the dash as standard equipment on 22 Chevrolet of America’s leading cars. When you buy was your car, do you ask “‘Is it Telegage equipped ?”’ ‘ord Most cars are; if not, your car dealer can quickly install it on any cars listed herewith. KING-SEELEY CORPORATION 294 SECOND STREET ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN Chicago Branch: 2450 Michigan Boulevard European Representative: H. M. Hobson Ltd., London 1 | TheI/7Z 0) GASOLINE TELEGAGE ‘oe For Your Oil Burner BE CERTAIN WITH THE K~S TELEGAGE THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 10 gallons, the motorist can read the arrival of | (Continued from Page 144) He was sitting at the table by that time, and he looked just the same as he always did when he was worried or beaten for a time. I figured I had him licked a-plenty, so I walked out of the room and went up- stairs to bed. But after I cooled off a bit I got to thinking. It was a cinch that Lefty Todd and that assistant district attorney were pretty cute guys. They knew the old man would see through this new scheme, and they must have something on him that I did not know about. They were using me to force his hand. I guessed that they were scheming to use the old man as a pry on the big boss. I had never seen the big boss, but I knew well enough there was one. I also got to thinking that we were all play- ing a pretty dangerous game. The old man was a hard one. He might even get me bumped off to save his own skin. It would be easy to do it now because the public might believe I was a gunman, on account of my murder trial, and had been killed by some friend of that driver’s who wanted revenge. I got up and went downstairs and found the old man still sitting at the table, but this time he had a whisky bottle beside him and he was hitting the booze plenty. When I walked in he looked up at me. “Don’t think you can shut me up by bumpin’ me off,” I told him straight. “There are other guys that know what to do if I go by the board some dark night. You may be my old man, but I wouldn’t put a trick like that past you!”’ Bringing in the Sheaves All of a sudden he started to laugh. It was the craziest laugh I ever heard. He got up and walked toward me, and I could see that he never meant to fight. He put one hand on my shoulder and there was a queer look in his eyes. “Kid,” he cracks, at the same time rais- ing his glass and holding it in front of the light until the whisky looked like a great big ruby, ‘“‘I guess you’re my son, awright! And I been doin’ some thinkin’ since you went upstairs. When I was young I had to play the game smart to get a start at all, and now that I’m started I’ve got ambi- tion, an’ I can’t make it work because of the things I had to do to get started.” ““You’re soused,” I said, not exactly fol- lowing his line of gab. United States.” He laughed again and tossed off the liquor. ‘“‘Get a glass, kid’’—he cracked then—‘‘get a glass and a drink. I’ve just found out that a man can’t plant a lemon seed and grow an orange. Nobody ever sowed wild oats and reaped in pure wheat This is my harvest time, that’s all. I’m reapin’, I am, an’ you're the sheaves! | set out some pretty rotten stuff and thought I was wise. Well, I was. I live easy and I’ve got some dough, but I’m just now at the reapin’ stage and you’re the sheaves. I got just what I planted—a dirty, rotten, crooked little rat! Let’s have a drink on that.” That night we came to an understanding, and it was dawn before we got to bed. We were both drunk, but I had found new things in my old man that made him look a little different to me. The last thing he said when he staggered into his room was: ‘‘Better get some sleep now, kid, or you'll be late gettin’ to work the very first day of your new job!” ‘*Leave the new job to me,”’ I remember saying to him. “I guess you know now that I ain’t such a sucker.” He just laughed and shut his door, and I went into my own room and tried to think, but the bed kept going up and down like an ocean wave and I had to keep my eyes open or get sick. I went tosleep at last, but I did not do any thinking. The next morning I was not up until eleven o'clock, and then I felt bad. I went “Talk straight to the assistant district attorney’s office and they laughed at me for being so late. I knew they were glad to see me by the way they laughed. I could always sense things August 20,1927 like that. times you can get a bluff a knowing what the other guy is thinking “You didn’t think I was goin’ to do an awful lot of work around here, did you?”’ I grinned at them. “Well,” Lefty Todd said, found him there waiting for me, “‘ there ain’t a whole lot of work you could do. But it makes it look like a job to have you here.”’ “You mean,” I cracked back at him, “‘it makes it look like this assistant district at- torney is playing close with my old man!” “Well, that way if you like it,” he grinned. “But you guys ain’t as smart as you think,”’ I told him. ‘‘ Me and the old man got a snoot full last night an’ had a love It helps a lot, too, because lots of ross just by because I] feast. I know you got somethin’ on him.” “Oh, not much,” Lefty grins and yawns. “We just got the dope on the dock-foreman deal, and the big boss is holdin’ that over your old man’s head because he was cut- ting in on those cases that disappeared.” Can you beat that? To think of that old racket coming to light as late as this! I certainly was surprised, but I tried not to show it. “T guess, Lefty,” I cracked, “if they really had anything on the old man they wouldn’t need me.” “No? Well, it ain’t our little pal that has got thestuff. It’s the district attorney him- self, and he got it through the retail mer- chants’ association that has been checkin’ up losses for a long time. He don’t dare go after your old man on account of polities, but our little pal wants something on his boss in case anything happens to him later.” All of this Lefty cracks without batting an eye. After last night I felt a little different about the old man. I mean the way he laughed when I hung it on him made me think that maybe he was a pretty good sport after all, and he was my father and I hated to cross him Sut I never let on to Lefty, because that would spoil it all. In the back of my mind was the idea that I could beat them all at their own game I was find- ing that out and I also had found out why Lefty had refused to identify me as the man that shot him i to use me While they were gett the old man through me, I figured, I would be getting something on them, and in that Honor among thieves is a joke. ven then he was planning ing something on way protect both the old man and the real district attorney. That would put me in solid all around, and Lefty and this assist- ant guy could go ta hell. I mean that was the game they were pl iying, and I had bet ter hold my end up too. So I laughed with Lefty and told him all I wanted was a shot nd if the old man had to get caught, that was his Lefty fell for my line and every- at the big and the easy money, a iooKkout. thing was all set Too Much From the Gang I hung around for a couple of hours that day, but I felt very punk, on account of th jag the night before, so I went home early The old man was a better drinker than me He was more used to it. So he was in good I got home. That is, he did not have a hang-over, but it is not true to say shape when he was in good shape, because he was crazy mad. The minute I came in, | walked up to me, and I could see in his ey: that he was in a fighting te er “Li here, kid,” he ex his voice y and hard and cold. “I'll stand for you hangin’ around with this ward heeler that got appointed assistant district torney - I'll stan break him whenev stead double damned if creepin’ around her goin’ to do to pr tect them! ‘“*Pugs?”’ I asked him, surprised that all this should happen. “I don’t get you What do you mean, pugs—my pugs?”’ “This Slug Dolan! 7 s what I He 1 rat A st ig ! Continued on Page 148 Se, SSO —_— IO Ri me: _—— ~~ - a ee nel ~~

Page 149

“SS os = 9 et ee — ~~ > = Se, OE eS ~~, ~~? Yu never need to touch another razor blade ye THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Vo parts to fuss with before or after shaving. Just tilt the razor head and shave. chick changes its own blades instantly 5 bene are through un- wrapping and handling razor blades the moment you buy a Schick. A Schick blade has no paper wrap- pings to dull its keen shav- ; r > cre ing edge. Twenty of these blades One movement of plunger—out and in—puts a sharp blade in the razor head. that fascinates men. Go into a store today and look at one of these new razors. Just see if you don’t come home with a Schick tucked in your pocket, If your dealer has not yet reecived his supply. come in a handy clip. You slip the whole thing in the handle of the razor, When you need a new blade, a pull and push of the plunger puts one in the razor head. The old blade drops into the receptacle for used blades. All done in a split second — right in the middle of a shave if you wish. When vou finish shaving. vou don’t have to Twenty blades come in this compact clip. To reload razor, drop clip in handle. take your Schick apart. Just rinse it and put it away. Blade and razor dry with no further attention. Convenient as it is, the best news about the Schick is the way it shaves. The Schick blade is held at a flat angle in a new type razor head. The keen edge slides across your face—it doesn’t hoe your beard or serape your skin. [It meets each hair squarely at its base and cuts it clean. You get a faster, smoother shave —right at the skin line. Yet there is something more than Schick convenience and Schick shaving SCHICK REPEATING RAZOR send the coupon and five dollars. We will mail you a Schick Razor complete with twenty blades. Extra clip of twenty blades, seventy-five cents. Magazine Repeating Razor Company, 285 Madison Avenue, New York City. Magazine Re peating Razor Company 285 Madison Avenue, New York City I enclose five dollars. Please sead me a Schick Razor complete with twenty blades Na Addres- ‘ “tate Dealer's Name In Canada, Razor with 20 blades, 36.50. batra clips of 20 biades, 31.00 Canadian Distributors, T. 5S. Simms & Co., Ltd., st. John, Montreal, Toronto, Winnipeg, } ancouver

Page 150

THE SATURDAY Too bad the trolley car couldn’t dodge 3 l it isn’t the trolley’s job to see that your brakes will hold. Yet slipping brakes will dec you in for all sorts of embar instance, after a test of its stopping qualities, rassing situations—like bumping another cat Mr. F. M. Powell of Atlanta, Georgia, made n trathe, mixing up traffic, being bawled out this statement, “I stopped my Buick Sedan, by a cop, being laughed at for a dumb-bell with four-wheel brakes lined with Rusco, in barrassment Rusco Brake Lining stops quicker. Many tests have proved this. For a crowd of lookers-on, having to go to _ 17.5 feet, going 20 miles an hour.” This is 17.5 feet quicker than police require, and ing unmercifully kidded by your ends. Let Rusco save you from such em- is a practical guarantee of safety. Brakes when WETS, too! Rusco Brake Lining is treated witha special compound so that water has no effect on it They use special mechanical equipment that insures correct riveting of lining to brake It holds in wet weather just as well as in dry bands and proper ae of rivet To prove this, compare the stopping distance heads. They know how to adjust brakes ex- of a Rusco-lined car with that of a car lined with ordinary lining. Before making this test, turn the hose on the brake lining of both cars pertly, not just by taking up on the rods Proper adjustment helps prevent skidding Rusco mechanics are trained brake m« Costs you no more Rusco repair men pay more for Rusco than for ordinary lining, but they do not charge you any more. ‘They make less money, but give you a safer job Other RUSCO PRODUCTS Transmission Lining for Fords; SS, the smooth start, smooth stop lining that pre- 5 ’ vents chatter; Truckbestos for trucks. A Rusco Brake Lining resists water, heat, oil, type for every purpose dirt and wear. It will not burn. Look for the meee eee Brake Shoes for busses and =| name Rusco and silver cross-bars stamped on entitle Srmieaitntinn Genie toy Borde the lining. Have your brakes inspected today at the nearest Rusco Service Station. They are the chief safety device on your car. “Brake Inspection is your Protection.” The Russell Manufacturing Company, Middletown, Con- Vire Strap and Towing Line necticut, Established 1830. Branch offices at Suiind ten Commemiecion, Uiovating ant | New York, Detroit, Chicago, Atlanta, San } Francisco, and Chatham, Ontario. Clutch Facings P+ dless Fan Belts for all cars Hood Lacings Emergency Brakes for Fords Conveying GARAGEMEN NOTE: Check and mail coupon today for the famous Kusco Service Station proposition to the trade. RUSCO BRAKE LINING MAIL COUPON BOOKLET AND SAMPLE FOR FREE RUSSELL MFG. CO., Dept. E-15 Middletown, Conn Send to me your free booklet about Rusco Brake Lining,sampleof lining and name of nearest Rusco Service Station. For trade information, check here, at tach to your letter or billhead and mail Name Street ily EVENING POST Continued from Page 146 comes here an’ tells me they have knocked him off in a stick-up, an’ I'll see him through or he’ll crack the whole works about you and the gang that shot things up in the other district. I knew you did that too. This guy has got it on you right!” Well, I went cold all over. Can you beat that for a break? Here I was, the only one that got caught on that thing, and I kept my mouth shut and took the fall for the whole gang, and now Slug was putting the rap on me with the old man! I mean you start with a little thing and you keep on meeting guys, and somebody has to know what you are doing, and all of a sudden you are in so deep you cannot get out. Here was a stir bug that always car- ried a rod, and he had been to my old man, and if the old man did not play with him I was sunk! But an idea came to me quick: ‘‘ You ain’t so smart,”’ I cracked to the old man. ‘‘Not so smart! I already been tried for that murder. They can’t try me twice, even if they know I am guilty. Throw that bum out.” “Throw him out, eh?”’ the old man snarled at me. “Throw him out an’ have him spill his guts about the whole gang? Then the rest of the crew will get knocked off and convicted, and there will be another stink, just before I am to make a fight for alderman! August 20,1927 “Well, fix him up, then,” I answered, disgusted a whole lot with the gang and everything else. “I got a job and I'm goin’ straight anyway.” “Straight itis, huh?’’ hesnapped. “You couldn’t go straight with aruler! You been nothin’ but a nuisance to me from the minute you were born. Now you will keep me out of the aldermanic race!”’ All of a sudden I remembered what I had heard a screw in the can say when I was down there on trial. It was about the old man, and I figured I would tell him that and see what happened: ‘*Alderman?”’ I cracked, sneering at him. “You fer alderman, eh?’’ Then I pulled the screw’s line: ‘‘Why, listen, if you was elected alderman they would close the city hall! A guy with a mug like yours, and the gas-house table manners that are all you know, would make the joint look like a greasy, one-arm sailor’s hash house on a Chinese dock! You're nothin’ but a cheap politician; a bum mick that can handle laborers and drink cheap booze and buy ginny votes. Forget that alderman laugh!”’ I know it got under his skin, because he went dead white for a second, stared straight into my eyes, then, before I knew a thing was stirring, he knocked me cold with his big right hand. TO BE CONTINUED GAMBLING Continued from Page 13 police raid is a mere pin prick. The gambler still has better than an even break for ac- quittal when raided; but if the stick-up men call, he loses right then and there, with no chance for appeal. Moreover, many of his customers will not come back. Not that they quit gambling. Apparently few ever do that, but they will try some other outfit. Many of the players who patronize such games as Nick operates do not know that they are protected by gunmen. They as- sume that the secrecy with which the pre- liminary arrangements are made constitutes all the protection necessary. It does not occur to them that they have anything to fear except a police raid, but as a matter of fact they are flirting not only with stick-up men but with the doubtful loyalty of Nick’s gunmen as well. Sometimes one of these vigilant attend- ants permits his cupidity to get the better of his sense of duty and then a very mysteri- ous holdup occurs. For example, one reads in his morning newspaper, as I have often done, that Mr. John Doe, a wealthy manu- facturer, was held up at four o’clock in the morning in the lobby of the apartment house in which he lives and robbed of per- haps $8000 in cash. Immediately I won- der why on earth he was carrying any such sum as that in his pocket at such an hour; also how the stick-up man happened to sus- pect that his victim would be so ripe for plucking. Both questions are very easily answered. One of the gunmen knew pre- cisely how much Mr. Doe had won and that he was carrying it home on his person. The mystery ceases to be baffling except to Nick. He, of course, would like to know whether one of his retinue did the job, and if so, which one, because it would give him pleasure to reward such skill with a well- placed bullet. When a game takes place in an apart- ment, there is very little danger of stick-up men. Hotel rooms also are safe. Office buildings likewise present difficulties to the stick-up men, because the night watchman asks each person who enters after office hours to give his name and the number of the office to which he is going. Only one elevator is running. The game may | the twentieth floor. It would be trouble- some for the hurrying stick-up men to run down twenty flights of stairs after bagging the game. Loft buildings and workshops on streets that are deserted at night are the favored places for sticking up a gambling e on game and a week seldom passes without one suffering this misfortune. Nick’s outfit consists of three roulette wheels, but frequently he takes only one For some reason that I don’t understand and that Nick couldn’t make clear, roulette is the favorite game of the big plungers. It would be just as easy to play roulette for small stakes, but according to Nick that doesn’t happen. Apparently there is some sort of tradition among the gambling gentry that pikers shall not play roulette. Nick would not value the acquaintance of a client who brought less than $1000 for the evening’s play. Starting with $1000 as taw, the sky is the limit; Nick always comes well heeled and that is why his outfit draws trade. Other gambling outfits specialize on dice, but here the stakes vary. Some of the games set a terrific pace while others are quite moderate. As arule the customers of these gambling outfits submit to a cut, or take-off, even before the dice are thrown. Evidently this charge is to meet the over- head, which in this instance means the gun- men. Ten per cent, Nick informed me, is the usual cut in a game of moderate stakes. His own cut is smaller, because the stakes are so much larger. In addition to roulette and dice, there are several card games in which skill does not count that have acquired popularity. According to Nick, the most popular of these is called banker and broker. The gambler banks the game and any number of players up to fifty-one can participate. Each player receives one card, dealt face up. He makes his bet by placing a sum of money on his card or under it or beside it. The banker then turns one card. Everyone who has a card higher than the banker’s wins; everyone else loses. In this game play moves with dizzy rapid- ity. For equipment the gambler needs only a deck of cards, a table and enough money to keep the cupidity of his clients at fever heat. Gamblers, according to Nick, are no more exempt from gambling fever than those who play against them. He regaled me with a story at his own expense in proof of the assertion. After an unusually profit- able evening which came to a close at seven o’clock in the morning, he was walk- ing along Fifth Avenue on his way to breakfast or supper, or whatever a meal Continued on Page 150 4 ' _—~ ee eee i ee —

Page 151

TS =, ER PO SE ad —_— SS OS 5 ae EE ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 149 We Announce Improvements Lower Prices The public expects motor car manufacturers to keep abreast of the times, and to make their product constantly better. We are earnestly striving to do so. You will find improvements, applying to both bodies and chassis, in all of the latest Paige sixes and eights now on display. And you will find ten of the twenty Paige models selling at lower prices. New color combinations, applied by an advanced process, add to the appearance of the cars, and to the durability of their finish. We invite you to inspect these latest Paige cars, to consider their value, and to enjoy a demonstration. eo a Ueacph re) Cc An rai ka m4 / Oohed (9). Franam- Tig CAN a iy

Page 152

Mt THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Tue Rotts Style M-250 The reputation and well-mannered style of FLORSHEIM SHOES have a special appeal to the man whose stand- ing commands respect in any company. Most Styles IO ihe FLORSHEIM SHO for the Man Who Cares Manufactured by THE FLORSHEIM SHOE COMPANY Chicago / There must be some places where they belong—but certainly not in por kets or bags. The way to a smoke light is to take out a Clark and with a silent, graceful gesture flick tt instantly into flame. It is as certain as your electric light switch on a stormless night. Withal the Clark is a jeweler- made article with fine-watch-like qualities. It is safe, clean and does not raise the Insurance rates on pocket fires. Many varieties—in- cluding the Windodger (the Lighter that works in the wind) at prices from $15.00 down to $7.50 and hack to $200. 08 @ W. G. CLARK & CO... INC. NORTH ATTLEBORO, MASS Showrooms: 584 Fifth Ave.. New York Jewelers ~to men-~since 1881 CLARK LIGHTER ALWAYS WORKS Ne wouldnt aholish ’matc Oh dear no 9 (Continued from Page 148) would be called under such circumstances, | when he met another gambler who was also in high spirits because of a successful night’s | play. Nick, incidentally, enjoys the reputation : . - | of being strictly on the level and sometimes losing heavily. He and his friend, being in holiday mood that morning and still in- toxicated with the joy of the winner, yearned for sport more than for breakfast, so they agreed to bet $1000 on each auto- mobile that passed, Nick betting that the last figure on the license number would be odd and his friend betting that it would be even. Their original intention was to end this session just as soon as they could cross the Avenue; but it proved an engaging game, so they stood there until two o’clock in the afternoon, at which time Nick was $18,000 loser. He considered that quite a good joke on himself, so I judged that Nick is no pauper. In addition to the itinerant games of chance, with their trails of protecting gun- men, there is another type of movable estab- lishment which is virtually immune from police annoyance. This is the hotel poker game. By reason of various court decisions in New York State, the poker players are admitted to be engaged in a game of skill rather than a game of chance, so they are not guilty per se of gambling. Next they are permitted to collect a moderate take-off to pay for the room and refreshments. Briefly, the operators of the game do not become legally guilty as gamblers until their take-off is admittedly remuneration for their services. Under all these handi- caps it is extremely difficult for the police to obtain a conviction, consequently these games are rarely raided. At their best, they are played honestly; that is to say, no marked cards are used, nor do the dealers play tricks with the deck. They also enjoy the reputation of playing without collusion among themselves, but on the latter point I have my doubts. Nearly every veteran poker player knows how to detect marked cards, and since the cappers and steerers who serve these gam- blers do not invite any other than veteran players, it would be silly to offer them marked cards. Likewise a great many veteran poker players know instantly when a dealer is dealing crookedly, although they may not be able to do the trick themselves. But collusion between players is almost im- possible to detect and gives about all the advantage skillful players would need to win regularly. Burnt Children If two men in a five-handed game can tell each other what cards they hold on every deal, it is not necessary for them to peek into the hands of the three other players. They can estimate the other hands by a process of elimination, since there are only fifty-two cards in a deck, and of these less than half are likely to be of importance. By arranging a simple code it is amazingly easy for two players to communicate with each other simply by the way they puff their cigars. But even cigars are not necessary. They can communicate by blinking their eyes. Any two telegraph operators could exchange news across a table with no more equipment than their eyelids. I know that that is true, because I have seen them do it. Nevertheless, these gamblers enjoy the reputation, whether they deserve it or not, of not indulging in collusion. Some of their games, bridge and pinochle as well as poker, have been in progress twenty-four hours a day for several years, the professionals working in shifts. A few years ago there was an effort to take advantage of the law's loopholes and turn some of these games into social clubs, but it did not work because the club quarters cost more than the hotel rooms, and the take-off had to be increased. Presently the police obtained the necessary evidence to convict and the social clubs were swept away as though a cyclone had hit them. Even political clubs felt the storm and were told in no uncertain terms that August 20,1927 ld either gambling on their premises would have to stop or resume the social character istics required by law. Several powerfu Tammany chieftains nearly suffered apo- plexy, but the order was enforced. Thi New York Police Department has had all the experience it wants of cordial relatior with gambling. Having been well burned, it remembers the sears However, the court rulings which make these sociable games immune open the wa) for another kind of gambling establishmer that closely resembles those which flour ished twenty years ago. The proprietor usually lease an elaborate apartment in ar expensive apartment house. By doing t! they set up at least an appearance of a residence. Their clients thus become guest in their home. Food, drinks and tobacco are served lavishly without charge. Card tables, roulette wheels and dice games are to be found in different rooms. Establish ments of this kind make it a point to en courage the patronage of women, and ever if the women do not play, they are made to feel more than welcome + No Rest for the Weary \ few months ago an establishment of this kind was raided by the New Yorl police after many weeks of hard work to get sufficient evidence to justify breaking dowr the doors. They knew that the proprietor spent an average of $380 a week for t bacco; they knew that not even a visiting foreign duke would have quite so mar callers; they knew that the callers weré probably gambling, because they remained until six or seven o’clock in the morning; ir short, the place had all the earmarks of a gambling house, and yet if they broke in it might develop that the proprietors could prove that this was their home and that they did not collect a take-off for the main tenance of the place. Finally, however, the police learned that there was not even ons bed in the apartment. Astounding care- lessness! That was the deciding fact whic! led to araid. Some weeks later I discussed the event with an official of the police de- partment, who must be nameless because they are not permitted to give interviews. “In the old days,” he said, “you wouldn't have found one out of ten of the women in a place like that who was wit} her husband. They’d be Mr. and Mrs. up to the time they were booked at the station and then the game would be up. He'd have one name and hers would be entirely differ ent. But what did we find that night? Why, every last couple of them marched right up to the police blotter and gave their names as cool as you please. It was Mr This and his wife of So-and-So Street; Mr That and his wife, and so forth. And so help me, it was the truth too. One of the ladies asked to be booked ahead of the others because she had to hurry home to the baby. They were that cool about it al you’d have thought no one ever spent evening out except to take a little flyer at roulette. “*Yes, things have changed a whole lot in the time I’ve been on the force. And what’ more, these people weren't much upset about being arrested either. They're what you'd call pretty high-class people. They were just out for a thrill, and so far as get ting arrested was concerned it looked to ms like they enjoyed it. Now they'll have something to talk about. But there was an other thing about that place that gave all of us ashock. So help me, the roulette wheel: were on the level. What do you know about that for a joint that drags in mostly inno 1 ) lp cent suckers who could just as well be robbed of their eyeteet! “‘T can remember a time when the wives of gambling men used to write anonymou letters to the police and tip us off about some joint that we might not have heard about. Then we'd get a few of the victims and do business with them under the Dow- ling Law. That’s the law that automati- cally grants immunity to a fellow who incriminates himself in giving testimony Continued on Page 152 © ELE BOO a OE el ~~ Le PR WS. Oe EL ——~ oe

Page 153

0S Oe Se, ~ i eee ook PE Oe 9 ae eee, - er SS re ~~, Sater ——_ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST before the shingle is laid T am burn it! Re- nef for the last time right over your old roof P.S. Have you pric ed asbestos shingles lately ew colors, new textures, new shapes, in these famous shingles Now! Everlasting fire-proot asbestos shingles lo you know these shingles cost less than evet in more shapes and colors than ever before, and, before,although they are mor beautiful, with many best ot all, at prices to suit everybody ! more St tvles an d color l neu absolut protect! Beautiful blue-black shingles, rich and velvety; against fire, their absolute permanence, ease of soft mottled reds, warm and colorful; shingles with application, their beauty, need now cost you no the gay cheerfulness of variegated color; or cool, more than a roof of flimsy, comb materia dignified natural grays. Choose from these colors, Make sure your next roof is Johns-Manville choose them in shape and texture you most prefer. Asbestos Shingles NEW Y JOHNS-MANVILLE GID ASBESTOS SHINGLES

Page 154

Grant DeK. Pritchard, a New Jersey automo- hile salesman, has often made $2.50.an hour ex- tra by this easy work. « What You Should Earn— Easily up to $1.50, or more, an hour. 2. When You Can Earn It— In your spare time. 3. Where You Can Earn It— Right in your own locality. « How to Earn It— As our subscription representative. Ralph Young has nou built up a subscription business in his thriving Ohio home town that pays him a comfortable income for his full time. Now is Your Chance HE men pictured here are but two 4 of the thousands of successful workers scattered all over the country. Men and women alike find in our plan a quick way to “cash in” their spare ours. You are probably busy with vour daily duties; even then you can utilize your lunchtime, your evening hours and your Saturday afternoons to make money this pleasant way. No matter what vour age, or vhether vou need $50.00 or $500.00, we'll be al 4 ad to ex plain how you may start earning extra money now. There’s no obligation in asking us to do It. The Coupon Brings All the Interesting Details ---CLIP HERE---------- The Curtis Publishing Company 975 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I t rT | about ur cash offer (Continued from Page 150) against someone else. We’d make this fel- low come up to the courthouse and tell what happened in the game, and that way we'd get a conviction against the proprietor and close the joint. Maybe the witness wouldn’t want to do it, but there’d be his wife prod- ding him and he couldn’t say much against the idea, because it let him out clear and free. But nowadays there must be a lot of places where the men and their wives go to- gether. If neither one of them wants the joint closed a cop is kind of up against it.” Last spring the New York police raided and closed a luxuriously furnished apart- ment equipped with direct wires to the principal race tracks. All the customers found on the premises were women and the place was maintained for women exclu- sively. It had been in operation a long time and it was discovered by means of the tell- tale wires, not through the gossip of the women. Evidently they aren't so talkative as some of the jokesmiths think. In that raid, however, there was no lack of hys- terics. Women promised bribes, wept noisily and threatened to commit suicide if their husbands learned where they had been; not all of them, of course, but some of them. But, oddly enough, a subsequent raid on another large gambling house maintained principally for women disclosed half a dozen husbands sedately lounging in an ante- room, reading their newspapers and wait- ing for their wives to finish their games. Bridge and poker were the principal enter- tainments offered in this place. Apparently husbands as a species are much less per- turbed by their wives gambling at cards than on horse races. The New Style of Lottery Betting on the races is against the law in New York State, but it flourishes to such an extent that almost every news stand offers for sale little sheets containing tips on the day’s races. Betting odds are quoted in the newspapers just as though the bets shared legally with the purchase of stocks and bonds. Yet there is no place openly operat- ing as a bookmakers’ place of business. In- stead one hears of a strange being called an oralizer. He knows his customers and they know him. Each accepts the other’s word of honor. The oralizer stands at some point where his customers expect to find him. “Hello, Jim,”’ says the customer, perhaps without even stopping. “I'll take a hun- dred on Greased Lightning in the third.” If Jim is feeling particularly demon- strative that day he may nod assent, but itisn’t necessary. The bet ison, even though he stands there wearing the dull stare of a codfish. Sometime during the ensuing week, or it may be a month later, the customer will pay him or he will pay the customer. Un- der those circum- stances, I asked, how are they to know the odds? The only time I ever bet on horse races was in New Orleans, where it is legal and every bookmaker posts his odds on a large placard. The oral- izer and his cus- tomers, it seems, have agreed long in advance on the newspaper whose quotations they ac- cept. And that is all there is to that, although the bets aggregate millions of dollars. The nearest thing to open and un abashed public gambling that has THE SATURDAY EVENING POST flourished in New York during recent years was a peculiar sort of policy game, called the numbers, that is still popular in the negro district of Harlem. Those who play this game attempt to guess three figures of the bank clearances as published in the newspapers. They must guess the figures in a certain involved se- quence needless to explain here beyond the remark that the odds against anyone get- ting the figures right must be about 10,000 to one, because the operators pay 600 to one to the winner. As an additional odd, however, it does not necessarily follow that there will be a winner; everyone might guess wrong. That game became so popular in Harlem that the various operators of it commis- sioned clerks and small tradesmen to act as their agents and money flowed in at an astounding rate. Then the police took no- tice because this was clearly gambling, and moreover it had fixed places of abode. It could be caught and it was caught. Now, the police inform me, such operators as still persist in carrying on have resorted to limousines for offices. Like the itinerant Nick with his constantly moving roulette wheels, they do business on the jump. Not only do they move but they are literally on wheels and careful not to stop long even at the curb. This game of the numbers also flourishes in Chicago. In fact, I was told there that Chicago negroes invented the game, but in Harlem it is believed that the game was in- vented there. Wherever it came from, it has spread to a great many cities and is no longer exclusively the sport of the negroes. Just how far it has spread I do not know, but men from the New England States and others from upstate New York were very much amused when I informed them of its popularity among the negroes; they had never heard of that. It was a game for all comers where they knew it; incidentally the rules varied also. In some places four figures of the bank clearings are used in- stead of three, and more than one combina- tion will win a prize. This new game simply takes advantage f all that the now-forgotten lottery had to offer, with the additional assurance that the drawing will be honest and the custo mers promptly notified of the outcome. It takes only a few words to set down those two facts, but if one considers for a moment their bearing upon the feasibility of this un- lawful enterprise it will be more clear than ever why gambling is hard to suppress. The ancient lottery had to have a place where the drawings could be conducted under some semblance of supervision, whether honest or not. As a matter of fact, the honesty of lottery drawings was generally questioned at one time or another, and in August 20,1927 the case of government-owned lotteries often led to grave political scandals. Next, the ancient lottery had to send out notices far and wide at its own expense, reporting the winning tickets. Under the present arrangement as de- vised for the numbers, any ticket holder can look at the financial page of his news- paper on the appointed day and see whether he won or not. Also he knows that the drawing is absolutely unprejudiced, be- cause it isn’t a drawing at all; the figures upon which the game is based are compiled by the Clearing House Association, made up of all the local banks. They have no in terest whatever in the gambling game and every reason to compile their figures ac- curately. Consequently the operators of this game not only make capital of the neu- trality of the bankers but are relieved of th« necessity of having a fixed place of busi ness. When the police go after them they take to automobiles. They can be harried, but it remains to be seen whether they can be suppressed. Strangers Without the Gates Some months ago a vigorous campaign was launched against gambling in the large negro district of Chicago. More than 100 policemen were busily engaged in raids when news came that a gang of white bandits had just held up a large gambling house patronized by white people in an- other and by no means remote part of the city. Some reports said the loot amounted to $40,000, others fixed it at less. Anyway Chicago read its newspapers the next morn- ing and laughed. Public opinion divided as to whether the police were aware of the existence of the gambling house that was robbed. In simple justice to the cops it ought to be said that nowadays such a matter really is open to dispute. Gambling houses not only can be but are camouflaged with amaz- ing cleverness in prominent streets. Where once they sought the alleys and deserted river banks, now they find it easier to hide in throngs. So many new tricks have been introduced within such a short time that the police are still busy trying to catch up with the changed technic; but looking backward, one cannot fail to see that they have accomplished one very important vic- tory—namely, the stranger finds gambling places harder and harder to enter, if indeed he can find them at all. A man could far more easily be elected to membership in a fraternal order or an expensive, exclu- sive—yes, even an_ ultra-snobbish—club than he could be admitted to metropolitan gambling. No club would demand that he bring $1000 in cash to every meeting, but Nick does, and what’s more, he gets away with it. Most as- suredly gambling 4 _——_— Virginia's Longest Waterfall, Located Near Lynchburg, Virginia is not suppressed, but one has to go out and hunt for his gambling these days. There are no electric signs point- ing the way. Quite the contrary; even after reliable clients stand sponsor for them, the new- comers are viewed with suspicion until their reputations are established I; ven in the various Chinatowns of this country gambling is carried on more and more furtively All of which marks an interesting change since the time, scarcely twenty years ago, when open gam- bling flourished in at least one or two cities in nearly every state — “ — DR Ra OS es ear EE

Page 155

aS ee ——-— SL a an Yeon. eee > — - FT A NT, AE Ce en ee ee 2% J = So alin ot 3 % 4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 153 A FEW DROPS On a MOIST TOOTH BRUSH CW Ki GERMS ASTRINGOSOL is more than just a mouth wash. It ts a germ-killer as well. Powerful. Harmless. Delightful to taste. Refreshing. Economical. A few dashes on a Made in U.S.A. 4FLOZ. TRINGOSy STEARNS’ CONCENTRATED ANTISEPTIC ALCOHOL 70% AN EFFECTIVE ANTISEPTIC REATH NEODORANT moist tooth-brush will kill the germs which are | constantly lurking between the teeth and around the gum tissues, causing pyorrhea, receding gums, bad breath .. As a mouth wash nothing is just like ASTRINGOSOL —dilute it to suit your taste. Breath-purifying. Invig- orating. Fine for dandruff-ridden scalps, too. A bottle will last many times as long as ordinary mouth wash. Fill in the Coupon for a Three-day Sample FREI FREDERICK STEARNS & COMPANY Esta / 16 WINDSOR DETROI SYDNEY Canada . A Australia For a free three-day sample of Astringosol write name and address on this coupon and mail to Dept. 26, Frederick Stearns & Company, Detroit, Mich. ADDRESS CITY STAT

Page 156

154 THE SATURDAY SAFETY SWITCHES

SWITCHBOARDS

SAF To FUSE a \ PANELBOARDS BuLtDog Satety ELECTRIC PRODUCTS OVER 25 YEARS’ research has developed advanced standards of safety, convenience and dependability BuLL0oG ELECTRIC PRODUCTS Co. ee’ RIC

a DETROIT MICH. USA. Worn roofs made watertight ~ ¢ Permanently and be aT

I'S easy now to keep your roofs watertight. Rutland No-Tar-In Roof Coating makes an old roof as good as new. It’s no trouble at all toapply- costs littie—and protects you against water damage costs and annoyance. It makes a /asting job—no

maintenance expense Rutland No-Tar-In Roof Coating provides a per- ' fect roof of asphalt and asbestos—a tough mineral - covering. Nota drop of tar.in it. It will not crawl, sag, harden, peel or blister. For any roof or surface. It also has over thirty other uses, such as water- proofing foundation walls. Save money—year after year IT will pay you to insist on Rutland No-Tar-In Roof Coating (or No. 4 Paste) at your hardware or paint store. Save money by mailing the coupon today. Rutland FireClay Co.,Deprt. B-33,Rutland, Vermont. ; Rutlan No-Tar-In ROOF COATING

=) _N0-TAR-IN a PY ROOF COATING RUTLAND Fire CLAY <?( § —~ RUTLAND vT.

RUTLAND FIRE CLAY CO Dept. B-33, Rutland, Vermont. Without obligation, please send me more informa- tion about No-Tar-In, with name of nearest dealer. Name iddress My dealer's name

EVENING POST August 20,1927 BEAVERTOWN COMES BACK (Continued from Page 39) beavers and other forms of wild life to as- | sure both profit and pleasure for coming generations was yet to be born. Some 300 | years ago it was said that there were more than 1,000,000 beavers in the North Woods of New York State. By 1895 all save a few were gone. No other animal on the American conti- nent was surrounded by so much tradition as the beaver. It held a high place in Indian lore, and all the tribes associated it with the creation of the world, possibly on account of its industry and engineering skill. The red man and his little flat-tailed brother got along very well. The warrior | used the skin of the beaver, but he did not exterminate colonies. Then came the days of the fur trader. Atlantic-to-the-Pacific trappers sought the beaver because it was the most prized of all pelts. Nobody gave heed to the future any more than they did to the reckoning that was to follow the wholesale wiping out of virgin forests, of wild pigeons, of bison and of grayling. The saving of the beaver to America can be credited to one man Harry V. Radford. He died, as mortals must, but his spirit is wandering among the beaver ponds of the Adirondacks. He studied the animals; longed to see them once more in the alder swamps. He said that in his rambles he could not count more than ten beavers, remnants of the 1,000,000 that once were. He had a law passed that prohibited the trapping and killing of the animals in New York. It was fairly well observed, for within a few years there was an increase of fifty or more reported. That was encourag- ing. An appropriation for the purchase of some Yellowstone Park beavers was made and twenty-one fine fellows were distributed in 1904. Now there are plenty of beavers in that state, with limited trapping being carried on. The story of Minnesota is a little differ- ent. Beavers never were on the narrow fringe of total extinction, but by reason of intensive trapping they had become so scarce that it is improbable that more than 500 remained fifteen years ago. Stringent trapping laws were put into force. The in- crease in numbers was almost instantaneous. Under the Minnesota regulations special permits are issued to keep down the popu- lation, but no trapping is allowed in any region where there is danger of extermina- tion. The colonies in St. Louis, Lake, Cook counties and in the Lake of the Woods and Koochiching regions are spreading out into surrounding country both south and west. Ideal Beaver Country It has been estimated that where beaver colonies are well established and food is to be found in abundance, a natural doubling of numbers can be counted upon annually. There is no merciless enemy of the beaver, now that the wolverine and the otter are almost extinct, and since man has turned guardian, the comeback of the beaver is a sprint. There wasn’t a mother’s son of them in Pennsylvania ten years ago. In 1917 a pair were released in Cameron County. Two years later eight were brought down from Canada and were freed in Sullivan and Carbon counties. The newcomers did so well that fifty more were imported and turned loose in likely spots. Since then, all that has been done in the way of stocking the state is to capture some of the surplus and convey them into new districts. Under the present law, no trapping is allowed, and the increase is so satisfactory that there are colonies in thirty-two of the sixty-seven counties. A few years hence beavers will become so plentiful that in self-protection Pennsylvania will be forced to permit the capture of a fixed number annually. Maine is an ideal beaver country, but enforcement of protective regulations is difficult. A good law aims to protect them at all times save when too much damage is being done. Any landowner must pay a license fee of twenty-five dollars to trap the chaps that are cutting his trees. Willis F. Parsons, the state game commissioner, says that last year there were 100 com- plaints from as many landowners. Some men called for the opening of trapping on small tracts, while others requested that the thinning-out process include half or whole townships. Nearly all the Maine beavers are in the northern counties—abundantly soin Frank- lin, Somerset, Aroostook, Penobscot and Piscataquis. With at least 5000 colonies, averaging eight animals to a colony, Maine has approximately 40,000 of the big brown web-footed swimmers. An average of 2000 is being taken legally each year, but how many more are smuggled out of the state by poachers it is hard to estimate. That’s a sore spot with the Department of Game and Fisheries. Beaver skins are worth from twenty-five to thirty-five dollars each and a lot of pelts get across the line into Canada. Michigan will allow beaver trapping under restricted conditions in 1930. There are more than 10,000 living happily in the swampy north district. Under absolute protection of both the Department of Con- servation and the sportsmen of Michigan, who are tremendously proud of the colonies, they are multiplying. The Start of a Metropolis Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachu- setts, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado and other states have taken up the beaver as an ally of fish life and water conservation and as a future cash producer. It’s the gospel truth that the present generation of young folks are more familiar with habits of the beaver than their fathers or their grand- fathers, and that’s about the highest tribute that can be paid the great conservation movement that today is sweeping the United States. Early in the trout season I ran across the most unusual bit of beaver engineering and construction that I have ever seen of three dams, showing successive steps in the development of colony growth; re- vealing how and why the beaver does more to regulate flow of water than man can ac- complish. The lower dam had been fashioned by a pair of beavers introduced into the region by state game protectors. Picking a proper site, the two set to work. They knew their limitations, evidently —reasoned that in ex actly so many working days and nights they would be able to perform just so much labor. They didn’t bite off any more than they could chew. They didn’t go in for a dam that was impressive in size or ornate in design. They were content with a modest one, for they were just setting up house- keeping, so they swung across the stream a twenty-foot barrier of cleanly cut branches. The butt ends were downstream, the pointed ends with interlacing stems were upstream. That is sound reasoning, because the thick end of a limb acts as a solid brace, while the brushy end can catch the small drift stuff and stones and mud, quickly building up a waterproof dam. Many a farmer who fills a washout on the side of a hill knows that his ancestors got from the beaver the idea of placing brush branches upward. The dam put together by the original beaver settlers was plenty big a for them. It backed up the water for nearly 100 feet. In this pond they built their house, laid in a stock of succulent willow and aspen for food during the winter, and when the snows came and the pond froze and the winds howled among the white pines on the slopes of the hills, they were comfortable and happy and contented Next season there was a family, all the youngsters filled with energy and ambition. (Continued on Page 157 a series - et ——S - ~—_

Page 157

St “——S. - ot THE > U SATURDAY EVENING POST 185 Setting the Tire Pace Today’s motoring public demands extremes — in comfort, safety and mileage—of its tires. Cars are more distinctive in appearance. Tires must keep pace. Fisk more than meets the motorist’s demands and the car’s requirements. The Fisk Extra Heavy Balloon delights the most exacting driver, im- proves the appearance and performance of the finest cars. Fisk Extra Heavy Balloons

Page 158

156 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 | V7 The Illustrious new | — Chrysler “72”...announced today ...1s equipped, both front and rear, with the new Hasslers | | From seventy to ninety per cent of today’s driving is on roads like this—full of tiny irregularities, | } ) se ” scarcely visible in the daytime, that cause ‘‘galloping The new Hasslers stop ‘‘galloping | EALED against destructive dirt, grit, and lubrication mean uninterrupted mud and water, the new Hasslers service for the life of your car. No re- | , , are noiseless in operation under — adjustment is ever necessary. é na yn TO s ap Duga- : con “8 at ri oe strap | ot There is a set of Hasslers specially YOO ‘liminate > >W assicrs q 4 ' Ss aa Ha “oe designed for every popular make of car, ee ee ee ve See including the one you drive. Sold by nie he a estan tekt enle. serves as a connecting belt onl) the dealer who sold you your car, or at 1] The new Hasslers are lubricated for the Hassler Sales and Installation Sta- i| ¢ . | smooth action, extreme responsiveness tion near you. Hassler Manufacturing I] and quick recovery. Sealed construction Company, Inc., Indianapolis, U. S. A The NEW f HASSLERS ° } N O M O R E G A L L O P I N G ] i ee

Page 159

(Continued from Page 154 The old homestead grew too small after still another season. There were more workers, younger teeth; Beavertown had toexpand. A crowd of enterprising citizens went into the suburbs not more than a stone’s throw above the original site and began a new operation. The second dam was twice as big as the first. It was fashioned just as staunchly and it flooded quite a respectable area. Several more years rolled around, and then came the laying out of the metropolis. It is a beautiful place. The pond covers at least ten acres and it is a real lake. The dam swings in a gentle curve and the base is more than ten feet thick. A small island was used to brace it in the middle. There are beaver houses in the pond; there is a depth of five to six feet of water in the main channel; there are laterals and diagonals used to carry the food supplies from the edges of the pond to the storehouses. It will serve for many years, and from this thriving center beavers will emigrate as the population increases. Some of the ad- venturous ones will travel as far as five or six miles before they establish themselves; for any location must meet severe require- ments. I know of a pair of beavers that hiked across three ridges before they found a suitable home site. There must be food in plenty—aspen, willow, poplar, birch, alder and grasses. Out in the state of Washing- ton, S. F. Rathbun, state supervisor of game and fish, has discovered that where beavers are close to any farm district they become particularly fond of green clover and alfalfa—spoon victuals, perhaps. By some unerring form of instinct they pick a spot where a dam cannot be dam- aged under ordinary floods. The real-estate salesman who tries to sell them anything else is wasting his time. A beaver dam will hold a better level than anything man has done along that line. The variation be- tween summer droughts and spring freshets is comparatively slight. When the water is low the mud base of the dam is almost im- pervious. When the water is high the loosely arranged sticks at the top allow the water to swirl through without hindrance. A beaver pond is mostly shallow. It makes a walloping fine place for fish, since it always has plenty of vegetable life and aquatic animal upon which trout thrive. The bottom of the pond allows a certain amount of seepage into under- ground channels. iy life, You will find that the springs run more evenly and more abun- dantly below a beaver dam. That is due to the fact that the sensible animals built with forethought and care. A Force of Engineers There was a man-made dam at the Lewis Gristmill that simply refused to hold water. It was a rocx-and-crib structure, everlast- ingly getting out of order, constantly in need of repairs. “If I was you,”’ suggested one of the philosophers at the general store, ‘I'd get in a couple of beavers and let them build my dam.” Whereat the crowd roared boisterously and advised the mill owner to put aside his pride and try the beavers. ‘“‘They can’t do any worse than you,” he was told in a comforting sort of way. To make a long story short, beavers were called into service. They went a short distance above and they built a dam that held water. It relieved the pressure on the lower one, and since then, according to local report, the owner of the gristmill has not spent a dollar in repairs and he has a force of engineers on the job every day without cost. Construction of the house in which beavers live is another illustration of skill. THE SATURDAY It isn’t beautiful—looks more like a partly submerged brush pile than a dwelling—but for all that, it is comfortable and is well ar- ranged within. It has two entrances whic always are below the surface of the water Inside the house, there is a platform raised higher than the water level. Once in their home, the beavers are safe; theirs is a moated castle which no predatory land animal can approach. Near by are the submerged store yards of food. Nothing is wasted by the beavers, so the woodsmen will tell you, and they may be right. “See them there sticks?” said an observ- ing mountain hunter, pointing to a beaver dam. ‘Most of ’em are peeled, ain't they? All right; why did the beaver build the dam out of peeled sticks? I'll tell you. They ain’t like us; we throw our bones int« the garbage. When the beaver has eaten the bark off astick, he just naturally uses what's left for his dam or his house; he ain’t waste ful. What if he does cut down some trees? He lets others grow to take their places, doesn’t he? Beavers were here for thou- sands of years, mebbe, and the woods never disappeared. They were all here—Indi- ans, beavers, woods—until the white man brought his devastating civilization.” The Breach in the Dam Most of the back-country folk deny that beavers work on their dams only during the night. It is true that the tree cutting is carried on only in the darkness, only one animal working on a tree, but in the dam and home operations they will work both by day and by night if the need be great Break a beaver dam and you will find the beavers at work making repairs shortly before the sun goes down. It may be true, too, that muskrats act as scouts for beavers Who can deny it? Lots of times a muskrat will visit a breach in a dam before a beaver shows up, but the muskrat does not do any repair work. It does no harm for us to pretend to believe that in some strange way of the wild, the muskrat gets the message of warning to the beavers; but the real ex- planation is apt to be that because the muskrat lives in among the reeds and cat- tails at the head of the beaver dam any variation in height of the water is detected first by the muskrat, and in his inquisitive fashion he comes down to investigate the dam. Later the beavers notice that some- thing has happened and they swing into action. I don’t believe that bachelor beavers are outcasts that have been driven from the colonies because they were too lazy to lend either a hand or a tooth to the common cause. I had a queer and cynical trapper tell me that bachelor beavers were not only indolent but most depraved and without any self-respect, and like low human beings who are not particular about the company they keep, consorted with and lived among the muskrats. There never was thing as a lazy beaver. Those isolated fel lows that are sometimes found living by themselves close to a fallen tree on the shore are either males that have lost in battles for mates or are fathers that hav been driven out of house and home when the young were born and the mothers want to be left alone. With the eagle now protected by state and national laws, the beaver is a symbol of outdoor America. His return is a sign of the newer understanding of Nature that is pulsating throughout the land; a proof of the reality of conservation of whispering forests, uncontaminated streams and the wild life they hold. such a deer come down to the lily pads, the sound of a flat tail hitting the water with muffled slap carries a message of friendly greeting to man for his better understanding of Nature’s heritage. And at dusk, when the | EVENING POST is vi) ~ LEA EEIICONS TL ETAL TY AILS Skin Lotion 75 Roug 75 Shampoo 50 Deodorant 1.00 Brillianting 75 Perfurne Ss Toilet Water 1.25 Bath Crystals 1.00 =e At leading department and [ SE drug stores, « diy tfrom BENJAMIN LELANIT Y gs-cul and COMPANY ut Lindell Boulevard : St. Louis New double pur pose face cream -~ for smooth youth ful face, neck and arms Send 10c for sample or $1.00 for full size tube... 3 ea) > a oS ’ a i. Be OS \\ 9 \\ ‘ dA ° -* . \_ | G #¥|nVivanis the Value is /)-NotON the Fackage on “Mac” **a2— | ‘*l earned $13.20 in a single day of Curtis work,”’ says well-known radio tenor. > ' t mat | \l | — C R I time | ' in vour] et! | th recent “M Lincoln McGill of New York is a radi: | 1 $91.75 EXTRA! And what tenor, and « Post representative | Will YOU Sell Us YOUR Spare Hours? If i lire] I t now ’ r Y ther y , trey . ¢ 4 | . , , he ( ‘SH vs z d wiilieniatees Ml ’ ‘ rie fe’ yf | THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 967 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Page 160

158 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | PARIS INTWENTY-FOUR HOURS (Continued from Page 11) STEEL & WOOD FILES-STEEL SHELVING ~ DESKS ~ SAFES OFFICE SYSTEMS & SUPPLIES- BANK & LIBRARY EQUIPMENT YAWMAN 4»> FRBE MFG.(0. jCelelemn sy. aay we ROCHESTER, N. Y. IN CANADA: THE OFFICE SPECIALTY MEG. CO. LTD. NEWMARKET, ONT. URING September, October and until No- vember 15, we offer to a limited number of our spare-time subscription representatives, and to individuals who enroll with us promptly, $15,000.00 1n cash prizes, hestdes cash commessions. First Prize —$500.00 There are 5,000 prizes in this fered awards. You cannot lose, for so many cash prize offer First prize, $§00.00; Second prize, $400.00; Third prize, $350.00, and so on! even those who do not win prizes will earn many extra You have as good achance dollars im commissions alon as Our present representatives And you may win hundreds. , to win one of the big prizes, To learn all the details of for no professional Magazine — this amazing offer, mail the worker may compete coupon. There's absolutely no obligation THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 963 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania fer of $1 in Os, to my lips, and I advise you to do the same thing.” We hesitated mutually and then did the same thing. To this day I do not know the composition of that pinkish mixture. I can only say it was smooth and grateful. I had been suffering from a general depression augmented by the night on the train and consequent lack of repose. But two min- utes after I had set down my empty glass it seemed to me that perhaps I had been tak- ing things too seriously. As for the effect on Wingle, it was posi- tively startling. The wrinkles between his eyes smoothed out, while, for the first time in our acquaintance, he smiled. It was a real smile. He tried to dam it in the mid- dle, but it overflowed on the sides. ‘Just as I supposed, Reynolds—that was a nonalcoholic mixture. Instead of lessen- ing personal efficiency, the effect is exactly the contrary; in every way I feel more effi- cient than before. And as a matter of scientific curiosity —which should be part of the make-up of every intelligent man, no matter how conservative—I am going to investigate the effect of another.” We did. ““Wingle,”’ I suggested, after the third pair of efficiency stimulators had gone to their long home, “the exterior of the Louvre is waiting for us. Let us get back on that schedule.” “‘We are going back on the schedule, Reynolds,” said Wingle. “‘ We are going to start on our twenty-four-hour trip about Paris at once. But I feel I would not be do- ing my duty by you if I continued to deceive you as to my identity. Waiter.” ‘‘What are you talking about, Wingle? “Reynolds, I will tell all. Prepare for a shock, because I cannot travel under false colors any longer. You have probably been taking me for a solid, conservative, effi- cient business man. As a matter of fact, Reynolds, I am just a rollicking, high- spirited college boy, full of innocent fun and merriment, and if somebody doesn’t stop me I am going to give the college yell.” “A college boy, Wingle?”’ “The best of us make mistakes, Rey- nolds, and I see now I made a grave mistake when giving you that first wrong impres- sion. But lam a manly boy—in the frat they called me Buck, and that nickname speaks for itself—and that is why I am always ready to apologize when mine is the fault. Look me over; I am just a high- spirited thoughtless lad without a mean hair in my head, and that is the worst any- body can say about me. I am away from home for the first time, and though I am seeing Paris on a schedule, don’t cramp my style, Reynolds—don’t cramp my style... . Waiter, we are waiting. . . Reynolds, who is that individual?” mi FE WAS a youngish man of about the height and build of Burlew, though be- longing to a slightly older generation. His hat was an active green, his coat a violent black-and-white check, but his scholarly face seemed fatigued. When he entered and greeted the barman as “Looey,”’ the latter responded with a ‘Good morning, pro- fessor.” “It is just as I suspected, Reynolds,” said Wingle in a confidential whisper, in- dicating the professor with his thumb. “Yes, everything confirms my deduction. Reynolds, prepare for a revelation that will make your hair stand on end. I am going to disclose my true identity.” “What are you now, Wingle—a solid, | conservative business man or a follicking college boy?” “Those were simple disguises, Rey- nolds—simple disguises. The fact is I am Inspector Hawkshaw of the international police and that man there is the celebrated Professor Moriarity who, after killing Sher- lock Holmes, disguised himself as the fa- mous detective and ever since has been August 20,1927 taking advantage of the fact. For the past twelve years I have been trailing him around the world. He is a dead shot, al- ways armed to the teeth, and hence exces- sively dangerous. That is why I am forced to employ strategy.” Wingle rose from the table, advanced to within a few feet of the professor, and then, placing his right hand on his heart, drew back his right leg and bowed like a small boy under the active tutelage of a dancing master. “Professor,” said Wingle, “it gives me great pleasure to inform you that we are colleagues. My name is Wingle and I am in charge of Rhythmic Asthetics at Leb- anon, Ohio, and I have come at great ex- pense to consult you personally on the subject of the third step of the Milwaukee Mince. Is it backward or forward, and do you smile when doing it? The best place to discuss this important matter will be the quiet efficient table I have just left, where my friend, a prominent real-estate dealer and mortician of Ottumwa, Illinois, is con- ducting a series of absorbing chemical ex- periments.” “Gentlemen,” said the professor, seating himself while Wingle made appropriate gestures to Looey, “‘it is my invariable rule never to begin the story of my life before seven in the evening, and this is merely the shank of the forenoon. But I am tempted to confide, even at this hour, because I am in a bad fix.” He glanced apprehensively toward the door. ‘‘I might say, a devil of a fix. A pack of human fiends are on my trail, gentlemen, and if they find me here and this is one of their favorite haunts—all is lost. I must leave this place at once.” “A singular coincidence, probably the most singular coincidence | have ever encountered in a life full of singu- lar coincidences. Prepare for a surpri Reynolds and myself also must leave thi place at once.”’ Leaning across the table, the professor demanded in an intense whisper, “‘ You say, Mr. Wingle, you must leave Rudy’s at once?” ““At once.” “Now?” “Now.” “May I ask why?” In the accepted stage manner Wingle tip- toed across the room and back, looking for concealed eavesdroppers. Discovering none he placed his hand to his mouth and whis- pered hoarsely, ‘‘ We are going to see Paris in twenty-four hours. On a schedule.” The professor shook us both warmly by the hand. “Gentlemen, I consider this chance meet- ing the most fortunate event of my life. I am telling you the absolute truth. If I linger on here I have only to expect the worst. It is imperative that I too leave this place at the earliest possible oppor- tunity, never to return. What is to be done?”’ I suggested that one thing which might be done would be to pay our bill, walk out, and not come back. “Reynolds,” said Wingle rey roachfully, “doubtless you mean well, but you over- look an important consideration; in a word, you overlook yourself. You have at present the general bearing of a death’s-head at a feast. If you were to leave now with the professor and myself, the mob would think we were a pair of detectives dragging some wretched criminal to justice. Don’t you want to show your better self to the popu- lace? Don’t you want to burst on them, radiating personality? Don’t you want them to nudge each other and say, ‘I seen him in the movies’? As your best friend, Reynolds, let me urge you to take a little Personality Tonic before meals. a Looey, three Personality Tonics and an ex- tra jigger of personality for Mr. Rey- nolds. . . . Drink it down, Reynolds. Washington would be vexed if he saw you Yontinued on Page 1G1 professor; get up and ————— —

Page 161

————_ _— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ? - ’ l , 7 } Ec day § work r play reflects the qual- ths f» ily Of your Sleep. New stores of energy are released, v ’ j } , . theres neu im iiving Wren you sicep SOMNALY, dreamlessly, fully relaxed eee Wide-Awake Vitality : comes with this new deep sleep! /™ 7... S high-tension pace demands an active mind and body. New tasks, new pleasures, new opportunities, crowd every waking hour to the full. But every night, fresh energy, ample for each busy day, can easily be built up. The right kind of sleep is the tonic needed to keep you feeling fit. Deep, rest- ful, dreamless sleep sleep that renews vital- ity because every tired nerve and muscle is fully relaxed This is the kind of sleep you get when your bed- spring is a De Luxe. For a De Luxe spring adjusts itself to fit your body perfectly. You feel its sooth- body naturally, take the kinks out of your spine, and drop you gently off to restful sleep. And a De Luxe is perfectly silent; never squeaks or groans just when you're in the borderland between wakefulness and sleep. It cannot sway from side to side, nor tip you toward the middle of the bed QUALITY XE” & ROME € This better sleeping equipment can make each nighttime hour yield its full measure of refreshing rest The same high quality which is built into De Luxe springs is found in the entire line of Rome metal beds couch hammocks and sleeping equipment Arrange with your furniture or department store for a free De Luxe trial. But be sure the spring is a De Luxe, for the downright comfort and lifetime wear of a De Luxe spring are found only in bed. springs that bear the De Luxe label She ROME (ompany INC ing comfort the instant you lie on it. The flexible er ‘ coils yield to any sleeping position, support the _ the Bedspring Luxurious I Ware - The Wrong The Right or Unnatural Way or Defiuxe” Way to Sleep This De Luxe Label stamped on the side rail is you guarantee of getting all the quality points that only —— — — — SS the De Luxe spring has. Look for it and be sure ROME if: 23 @ = i rEO pp U cts FOR RELAZX ATS O N AN D SLEEP

Page 162

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 “_— there are no better tires made Now you hear | than Mason it everywhere ‘‘T am sending you a Mason Balloon which came as origi- nal equipment on my Ford and which to date has run 34,000 miles. It never was off the rim until it finally wore out.’’ —Peninsula, Ohio. ‘**Two Mason Balloons on my Buick have run over 23,000 miles and there is still quite some mileage left. I have had less tire trouble generally with Masons than with those of any other make.”’ — Boston, Mass. ‘*T drove five Masons 24,000 miles and as they still looked good I drove an additional 3,700 miles from Los Angeles to Miami, Fla. I want nothing but Masons on my car.”’ —Los Angeles, Cal. ** After having driven a set of Mason Hylastic Balloons on my sedan for over 27,000 miles | am convinced that you make the best tires on the market today.’’—Dallas, Tex. ‘* The last Masons I purchased gave me 21,825 miles on my Packard, 7,000 miles of which were over hazardous roads, rough and punishing to tires.”’ — Miami, Florida. Hylastic cord (an exclusive Mason feature) is made from a special, carefully selected, tough and sinewy cotton. It is spun in Mason's own cotton mills, to Mason specihcations and exacting standards It is this Hylastic cord which makes every Mason Balloon so resilient that it gives maxi- mum riding comfort — and so tough and sinewy that it endures constant flexing for many extra thousands of miles. MASON TIRE AND RUBBER COMPANY, KENT, O.

Page 163

ER ERR AEE Sr SRE A cAI or SEN ARB (Continued from Page 158 in Paris shirking your duty this way. He would say you were not a 100 per cent American.” After a painstaking review of the sched- ule, Wingle and the professor decided that, in spite of the advanced hour, we might make it yet, provided that while going through the Louvre we closed our eyes when passing the Mona Lisa. ‘‘Now that all the preliminaries are set- tled,’’ said Wingle, replacing the schedule in his inside pocket and lighting a cigar. ‘I feel ready for the toil and moil of the day’s pleasure. And at this point it might be helpful to spend a meditative moment con- sidering the case of young Burlew, who is now running around loose in Paris without a schedule. No good will come of it. If he has no schedule he should be back in America.” ‘All this is beside the point,”’ said the ‘“‘T am not interested in anybody 1amed Burlew. Wingle, you don’t seem to realize that as long as I stay here I am in Though it is not yet seven in the evening, I will break a long-standing rule and give a short excerpt from the story of my life. Six weeks ago I received my degree at the Sorbonne and started back to Amer- ica. I missed the boat. I have been miss- ng every boat since.” ! rofessor. Y danger. Speaking of boats,”’ said Wingle, lean- ing back comfortably in his chair, “‘I am reminded of a little incident whose authen- ticity can be vouched for by reliable On November 11, 1918, in mid- ocean on a transport bound for France, the captain, observing my eyes suffused with ‘Sergeant,’ he said to me— witnesses. tears, said, ‘sergeant “Stand by for target practice, sergeant. Looey is here with the depth bombs,”’ fin- ished the professor. The depth bombs, which lived up to their name, were shortly followed by three ade- quate doses of Old Doctor Wingle’s Fa- vorite Prescription, whose composition, it eemed, was a family secret. ‘‘Gentlemen,” said the professor in a mellow voice, as he lit a cigarette, ‘‘ though I am in an unfortunate position and one calling for immediate action, I can perhaps make the story of my life clearer by a few preliminary remarks. In 1667 matters had come to a crisis. Louis XIV “4 “Speaking of Looey,”’ interrupted Win- gle, ‘‘keep your eye on him, Reynolds, be- cause something tells me that we are going to need his invaluable services in the im- mediate future before we start out, as we must, and at once.” “At once, Wingle?’’ demanded the pro- fessor in a hushed voice and removing his cigarette. **At once. “Now?” “Now.” ““And may I ask why, 1ave forgotten.” ““My friend Mr. Ronalds and myself— is name is Roberts, but I sometimes call him Ronalds out of respect to the family name of his maternal grandmother—are seeing Paris on a twenty-four-year sched- ule.” ‘That is not long enough, Wingle. Per- sonally I have been seeing Paris with a schedule and without for the last three years, oo I realize I have just begun. But duty calls, and that is why, after missing my last oh I told a few alleged friends of my difficulty and they constituted them- selves into what is known as a Death Watch to see that I don’t miss the Heliaska tomor- row. At three o’clock this morning, by a supreme effort, I escaped. But they are like bloodhounds—they will never give up. At all costs I must leave this place before they get in.” ‘‘We must leave at the earliest oppor- tunity,” said Wingle firmly; “that is the only efficient thing to do. Count on us to the last. And now, while we are waiting for Looey to bring the stirrup cup, permit me to while away the time by relating the following true anecdote: It was November 11,1918. I had been fighting like a tiger all because I seem to ha THE SATURDAY morning—my habitual way of fighting, I might add. As the Armistice sounded, General Pershing and Marshal Foch, notic- ing the tears which streamed down my face, said, ‘Colonel,’ they said os ‘Save that,” said the professor. “TI will arrange to have you “wrk ester it from the Eiffel Tower. To prevent international complications, we are leaving Rudy’s at once.”’ “At once?’ * At once.”’ “Now?” “Now.” “Tn that case,” said **Looey ve P The door opened violently and five hus young men burst in, while with a professor shriveled up on his chair “The Death Watch,” he said—‘“‘the Death Watch. They've got me.” “‘There he is,”’ said the foremost of the Death Watchers. ‘Surround him, men, and hale him to the Heliaska.” With one accord the Death Watch seated themselves about our table and, turning to- ward the waiter, chanted in unison, *‘Looey, we are ca-a-a-a-alling you!” ‘colonel Wingle, groan the Iv T WAS six o’clock the next morning when young Burlew entered Rudy’s. Personally I should have forgotten all about his existence if it had not been for Wingle, who from time to time would la- ment: ‘“‘No good will come of his being in Paris, Reynolds; no good at all. I am an efficie ney expert and I know what I am talking about, and I would cut off my right hand to see Mr. Burlew safely on his way back to America. It is criminal to think of a young man seeing Paris except on a schedule made out by some responsible person.” From time to time, also, Wingle would interrupt various discussions with the pro- fessor and the Death Watch to point out the merits of our own schedule. It seemed generally agreed that it was a good schedule, and several times, in com- pany with the professor and the Death Watch, we were on the point of starting out and following it. But something always happened. If it wasn’t a dispute as to who was to pay for the taxi, it was the entrance of an old friend or of bape yond that somebody thought was an old friend. At any rate, we never crosse ‘4 the threshold of Rudy’s San Fran- cisco Bar. It was six o'clock in the morning. I re- member because I had just looked. The Death Watch were individually and col- lectively what might be described as **blotto.”” One of them was sleeping. Two others were matching pennies, but without pennies. Wingle and the fourth were frat- ernizing with some belated sailors. The fifth, carrying a cane in the manner of a musket, walked up and down before the door like a sentry. The sentry stuff seemed hardly neces- sary, since, to all appearances, the profes- sor had resigned himself to his fate. He was leaning up against the wall at one side and repeating in a melancholy voice the story of the French foreign policy dur- ing the eighteenth century. And at this point young Burlew himself entered. “Hello, Mr. Reynolds,” he said, spy- ing me at the table. “I didn’t expect to see you. Where’s Wingle? Say, for tl of Pete get mea drink. I’m dry, and until I can cash a check I’m busted. Say, what do you suppose happened?’ I waited. Nobody else in the room paid the slightest attention to young Burlew. The latter’s voice was querulous and plain- tive. ““Mr. Reynolds, that nut family I was with, they wouldn’t go to bed. But what did they do? I ask you, what did they do? They spent the last twenty-four hours see- ing Paris and they dragged me around with "em. And nothing but culture, either looking at things by moonlight, for the love e love of Pete. Yes, sir, looking at things by EVENING POST irr g \ wires \ Wil ¢ , ¢ , , aw an 1) WS \ 1 yx it Or me swe river rampag , througn a « t of est t But her r ' fiir WV CVCT vr \ i ittacks the Be Ik n > ii i¢ { pest tX eect the emergency, and } } ty . +} . every where Line 1¢ in r ] t e} + ¢} OOS i” Use ¢ i« Sa ffi t tor Sup] tf su ~ equipment al materia , kept at strates point | | } wh e tl i e rush \ tra r tr to th vastat 1 a | ghaut the Rell Svat ¢ ¢ ’ ar 7 ’ ar " ; pat ¢ y twenty-five B ( ' B » t i t B i tat P: t t pick Uy es ph to any . th t i! a if a reasona QUESTION How Can I Make More Money ? If you have the will, here's the way ANSWER The Curtis Publishing Company 966 Independence Square Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Write SIMPSON’S * 843 Adams St.¢ CHICAGO’ Dept. 1405 | | THE DIAMOND MATCH CO., Dept. 24, Springfield, Mass ADDRESS DEPT. The Process Engraving Inc. Troy at 21st. St., Chicago on Matches n. Samples free e M4 ; Mi for free ¢ le B ks and PA ATENTS. “RECORD OF INVENTION 1 ANK h n for Inspectic et i 4 Terme B t Victor J. Evans & Co.,727 Ninth Washington on, D.( td SIGNS * ESTES’ SMAL1 Visibility, Perma Beauty, Economy

Page 164

THE SATURDAY W. E. Brackett Ohio E. Baumgarten Kentucky Ted Waldon North Dakota Howd They Ever Make So Much Money ? OW did Eugene Baumgarten of Kentucky make $600.00 in one month? How did W. E. Brackett of Ohio in one month make $800.00? How did Ted Waldon, former gro- cery clerk in North Dakota at $14.00 a week, earn $48.00 in a single day? As fascinating as chapters out of an explor- er’s biography are the stories of these men and others who, this very day, are making real money (doubtless more than you have believed possible) as Curtis subscription representatives. Many of these fact stories, and the pictures of the men who inspired them, have been incorporated into an attractive booklet which we shall be glad to send you without charge on re- quest. If you, too, have even alittle time to sell and could use more money, it’s for you! So also are all the details of our big cash offer. Name Strect City THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 55 Independence Square, Philade ia, Pennsylvania 965 Inder i Sq Philadelphia, P l A ge State | highest kind of efficiency. Mail Coupon — Please send me without charge or obligation the booklet telling how men like Waldon, Brackett and Baumgarten made so much money. Keep ir nails neat, despite the grime of travel, changing tires, or engine re- ! ] ly EVENING POST moonlight. Honest I'll never look at any- | thing by moonlight again as long as I live. Reynolds, it was terrible.” He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. ‘And, if that wasn’t enough—not a drink. No, sir, not one. We ate six differ- ent times, and half the times I paid, and when I suggested a little light wine, you oughta see the way they looked at me. I took mineral water too. I never want to set eyes on any of ’em again. Where’s Wingle?”’ His face lighted up. He saw Wingle in the act of executing a sailor’s hornpipe for the benefit of Uncle Sam’s naval forces. ‘“*He’s a card,”’ whispered young Burlew, brightening. ‘Just lamp old Wingle. Blotto. Didn’t Isay he’d bea card? Ain't he a card?” And at this minute Wingle looked around. Efficiency has its triumphs no less than anything else, and Wingle had the Napoleonic. Efficiency in the pale gray dawn. He had no sooner seen young Burlew than he knew exactly what he was going to do about it, and every move showed the master. Start- ing toward our table, he paused only long enough to take the green hat and the black- and-white-checked overcoat from the pro- fessor, who obligingly relinquished them without stopping for an instant in his ac- count of the foreign policy of France during the eighteenth century. “‘Mr. Burlew,” said Wingle, “‘you are about to start on a personally conducted ex- cursion where a certain kind of costume is absolutely necessary. It will be necessary to sacrifishe—or shacrifishe; pronounce it as you wish—your hat. Permit me.” ‘*He’s a card,” whispered young Burlew as Wingle substituted for Burlew’s cap the professor’s green headpiece. ‘*But that is not enough. I am also going to take the liberty of asking you to run your arms through the sleeves of this coat, which will guarantee you a complete disguise and thus insure you against dis- covery.” ‘*Ain’t he the card!” whispered young Burlew ecstatically, as he permitted Wingle to fit him out with the professor’s checked coat. ‘‘And now, Mr. Burlew, kindly close your eyes, make a silent wish and some- thing will happen.” August 20,1927 something. I can’t get the idea out of my head that we have forgotten something.” “Did we forget the professor?” I sug- gested. ‘*No, Reynolds, not the professor. We saw the professor back to his hotei. In fact we put him to bed.” “So we did, Wingle—so we did.” ‘“‘It was not the professor, Reynolds; but I am certain we did forget something im- portant—vastly important. What was it? Think, man, think.” I tried to think. The mental process was difficult, and yet my head was not heavy and oppressed as it had been during the voyage. On the contrary, and for the first time in six months, I felt light and posi- tively gladsome. Even though the bank had failed, it seemed possible that it had not failed for a hundred cents on the dollar; and in any event, I had a substantial letter of credit, two arms, the regulation number of legs, and a head full of experience. And there were other jobs in the world. I had just arrived at this conclusion when, with a yell that attracted the atten- tion of the entire quarter, Wingle sprang to his feet. ‘‘Now I remember, Reynolds. We forgot to see Paris.”’ And there it was, so simple and so true; we had forgotten to see Paris. “Yes, we forgot to see Paris. We had a schedule all made out; we had the precious hours of leisure, now gone forever, and we had a schedule—-an efficient schedule. And we never saw Paris. Reynolds, it was not efficient and I shall regret it all my life.” “You were efficient for ten years, Win- gle. Don’t let one little slip dishearten you.” **You mean well, Reynolds, but the fact remains: We came here with a schedule and we didn’t see Paris.” I pulled out my watch. It was twenty minutes to eleven. ‘*Wingle,”’ I said as the significance of the hour dawned on me, ‘“‘the last boat train this morning left three hours ago. We can’t go back on the Heliaska.”’ **Can’t go back on the Heliaska?”’ “Impossible. Missed it. Can’t go back till the next boat.” ‘*Reynolds, this is a shock—the worst shock I have experienced in a life full of shocks. But we must make the best of it. For the fourth time young Burlew started to comment on the fact that Wingle was a_ That is the only efficient thing to do.” an ES ORME Ore, — Neverbitingness! ...Aye,there’s a Smoking | -tobacco virtue for you as is a virtue / ...Even on bluest of Mondays you may yet fumble for Old Faithful and know that- when it is packed with the fragrant friendliness of Barking Dog Never Bites [25¢ at all smoke shops] .. . the fogs of Life will begin to lift from Puff One on....Try it / et Or we'll send to i§;. WA. try, a trifle, FREE, 77 and a dog hook Write/ Continental Tobacco Co. inc 44 16 street New York City \ pairs. Clean,trim,and file them quick ‘BARKING DOG | and easily, anywhere, with the handy \ r — mani “re agp or Gem, Jr. % | Heavily nickeled, fully guaranteed SMOKING MIXTURE” At all drug and cutlery stores ‘NEVER BITES THE H. C. COOK C., Ansonia, Conn —_ Gem Ciipp J il atl | i This little machine—with AUTOMATIC ENVELOPE FEED will address 125 ENVELOPES PER MINUTE! Ihe greatest little time and money saver the worl 1. Outspeeds all other small $i7e idressers more than THREE TO ¢ INE, and vet sells for less than ONE THIRD THE PRICE of any addressing machine } ] er j f equal speed. nd a FREE BOOK on pin ih a ELLIOTT ADDRESSING MACHINE CO. :147 Albany St., Cambridge, Mass. card, when something did happen. Raising his voice so that it could have been heard two streets off, Wingle yelled, ‘“‘Wake up, Death Watch! Train time! Get the professor!” What happened next was a sort of tidal wave. Responding as one man, the Death Watch fell on young Burlew, enveloped in the professor’s coat and hat, and bore him, wildly protesting, to the door. As his cries faded into the distance, Win- gle dropped his head on the table and sobbed like a child. ‘‘I did it for the best, Reynolds. No good would have come of his staying on. He had no business trying to see Paris without a schedule.” Vv HERE was a fountain with benches around it. We were sitting there in the bright sunshine. **It seems to me, Reynolds,” said Wingle after a long pause, ‘‘that we have forgotten ‘*Make the best of it,’’ I repeated. ‘*A misfortune, Reynolds, is often a bless- ing in disguise.” ‘““Often, Wingle-—often.”’ “‘Suppose the next boat doesn’t leave for a week.” ‘“‘Go on, Wingle; I’m following you.” “Then there will be a week in which to see Paris.” **Yes, yes, Wingle, go on.” ** All we need is a schedule.”’ “Exactly. A schedule.” ‘* An efficient schedule, Reynolds.” ‘‘Every minute accounted for, Wingle. **And we should choose an efficient place to make it out, Reynolds.” “Quiet.” ‘**Congenial.” ‘‘Not too many windows.” We looked at each other. There was a taxi passing. Simultaneously we hailed it and in one voice said to the chauffeur, ‘Rudy’s San Francisco Bar.” ”

Page 165

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

The revolver is an effective instrument in the promotion of law and order. It is an invaluable factor in the conservation of life and property and creates a feeling of security ‘ t e JS S

OOK at it through the youngster’s eyes. Police- at all times. Left alone, or with trusting children men! They’re grand and big and brave in their who confidently look to you to meet any situation soldier-like uniforms with the bright that can possibly arise—would not the 1. ae : . ¢ brass buttons. Thundering tons of traffic means of immediate protection be worth oe ” ¢ r : se eta —ee , ? stop when they hold out a hand. Start when many times its price to you: they blow a whistle. And how wonderful * _ For peace of mind and self-reliant securi- they are when they’re mounted on horse- ty, Smith & Wesson originated the safety back... cantering, prancing, commanding 4 : idea in firearms over 40 years ago. The the world about them with a glance. Man- r suspen . 32 and 38 caliber S & W Safety make ly, and fine, and heroic. . . what a splendid accidental discharge by adult or child : nt 6 - ae : . ; 1c of in- thing to grow up and be a policeman ! impossible. In countless thousands of in 7 stances—in innumerable emergencies that But the officer of the law can be only one "0 < offered no time to summon aid—these place at a time. And it is to you, the par- m pam safe revolvers have solved the problem of ent, that the youngster looks for protection w).;00 02 home defense. Our Descriptive Booklet K may interest you—it will be sent free upon request | | SPRINGFIELD, MASS. U. S.A.

| THE - REVOLVE R MANUFAC T U BLE BR

Page 166

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20, 1927 dd... in business Son...in school Each finds this ring book the best ever for figures and data that must be handy when wanted Q' T on the rapid-firing line at “ business, Dad knows the time saving convenience and vital im- sary data are instantly available. The Monarch’s unique, unbreak able steel hinge and solid leather rtance of having data ready for cover smile at hard knocks. Its ‘rence. He keeps facts rings work on ball bearings, and figures at his fingertips—in open wide—to receive or release Monarch Ring Book. and sister too, at school many sheets at one time. Examine this splendid ring book, when the profe ssor 1S at your stationer’s or college book- all six, find the store. There are many flat opening other National Students’ Note Books and _ filler sheets too, in a_ wide range of styles and sizes. If your dealer hasn’t them, write us for name of one who has. National Blank Book Co., 123 Riv erside, Holyoke, Mass. Oniyvy Nat al Books have steel } strongest whete ordinary ring books give way first over of rich, brown writing. Wide-Opening Steel Rings, that ible. Hinge of flexib work on booster levers. Easy on fingertips. at Opening—comfort Non-Soiling Index. Handy Cover Pocket % ! ! Jo up-anddown-hill National Loose Leaf asd Bound Books For Schoo! and College Work...and Business and Professional Records Choice of convenient sizes elo” {NATIONAL / Index of Advertisers August 20, 1927 PAGE Allen Mfg. Co 80 Allerton Club Residences 137 American Laundry Machinery Co., a 95 American Pulley Co., The 105 American Telephone & Telegraph Co.. 161 Bassick Manufacturing Co., The 59 Bell & Howell Company 136 Bendix Brake Company 140 Bennett Pumps Corporation 135 Bird & Son, inc...... ; 56 Bohn Aluminum & Brass Corporation. 142 Boott Mills 143 Bryant Heater & Mfg. Co., The 165 Bull Dog Electric Products Co. 154 Campbell Soup Company : tae Celotex Company, The Chandler-Cleveland Motors Corp. 68 Chase & Co., L. C. Cheek-Neal Coffee Company Chevrolet Motor Company Chrysler Sales Corporation Clark & Co., Inc., W. G. Collins & Aikman Company Columbia Phonograph Company. . .96, 97 Congoleum-Nairn Inc... 40 Conklin Pen Company, The 102 Continental Motors Corporation . 108, 109 Continental Tobacco Co 162 Cook Co., The H. C. on 162 Cream of Wheat Co. II Cover Diamond Match Co., The 161 Dodge Brothers, Inxc 82 Edison Electric Appliance Co., In« 139 Edison Lamp Works, G. E. Co. 34 Electric Vacuum Cleaner Co., Ini 110 Elliott Addressing Machine Co 162 Estes, Clifford W 161 Evans & Co., Victor J. 7 161 Fisk Tire Company, Inc., The 155 Florsheim Shoe Company, The 150 Ford Motor Company 65, 67 French Battery Company 123 yr Fyter Co., The General Tire & Rubber Co., 1 Glass Container Association ¢ (America Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., In The Great Northern Hotel, Chicago Hanson Bros. Scale Co Hart Schaffner & Marx Hassler Manufacturing Co., In 150 Holeproof Hosiery Cempany 1 Hudson Motor Car Company 60, 61 Ingram Co., Frederick I Iroquois Electric Refrigeration Co., The 117 Johns-Manville Corp 151 Johnson & Son, S.C 90 Johnston Company, Robert A 108 Karp n & Bros., S Kelvinator Corporation King-Seeley Corporation Lambert Pharmacal Compan Lehn & Fink, Inc Leland & Co., Benjamin Liquid Carbonic Corporation, The Magazine Repeating Razor Company Marland Refining Company Mason Tire & Rubber Co McLaren-Consolidated Cone Corp Miller Rubber Co., The Nash Motors Co National Blank Book Company National Carbon Company, Inx National Confectioners’ Associa and Allied Industries New Jersey Zinc Company, The Oakland Motor Car Co Olds Motor Works Packard Motor Car Co Paige-Detroit Motor Car Company Perfect Circle Company, The Phillips-Jones Pinaud Incorporated, Ed Pioneer Suspender Company Planters Nut & Chocolate Compat Postum Company, Inc Pratt & Lambert-Inc Process Engraving Co., In Quaker Oats Company Reo Motor Car Comy Reynolds Tobacco ¢ Rogers & Son, Wm Rome Company In Russell Scholl Mfg Simpson, Inc., | Sinclair Refining Company, Inx Smith Shoe Company, J. P Smith & Wesson Stearns & Company, Fred Se idebaker Co mpso Malted Foo ide Water Oil Sales Corporat Fruscon Steel Company n Metal Mfg. Ce niversal Pictures { United States Gauge | pson Company, ‘T Vacuum Oil Company Valentine & Compar Vesta Battery Corporatio Victor Talking Machine ¢ Williamson Candy Compar Willys-Overland, Ir Wilson Brothers Yawman & Erbe Mi Ci LO/ 129 147 125 100 is 101 1 13 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

Page 167

A — a PUR Gas Heating ‘Banishes Furnace “Drudgery Enjoy the carefree luxury of a heating service that gas fuel and a Bryant heating plant can give you. Transform your basement into a cheery, livable part of the home—cozy den, play room or workshop. No other heating method offers such striking advan- tages in home comfort and convenience. Bryant gas heating needs ‘‘no more care or attention than a pup can give it.”’ Those tiresome, aggravating trips to tend the furnace are permanently ended. Freedom from dust, grime or oily vapors makes a new cleanliness apparent throughout the entire house, and leisure hours are added to your days and nights. Any desired temperature is uniformly maintained within a single thermometer-measured degree at that comfortable warmth you like for the day and evening—and the adjustment to night-time coolness is automatic. The wonderful convenience of this heating service which “lets the pup be your furnace man”’ is well BRYANT HEATER & MFG. COMPANY, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST NACE [7338 St. MAN within the reach of home owners in most com- munities throughout the country. the rapidly increasing use of gas for house heating, Because of many gas companies are now able to grant special low rates for this service. The actual dollars and cents cost of gas heating for any home, in any community, can be very closely estimated. design and construction of your particular home all Gas rates, quality of gas, climate, and have a bearing upon what this cost will be. If you would like definite figures by which to judge the value of gas heating for your home, just call your local Bryant office if one is listed in your phone book—or, write to us at Cleveland. If, before securing cost figures, you would like complete information of the carefree heating service which gas fuel can bring to your home, ask for our latest gas heating booklet. Your name and address on a post card will bring you a copy by return mail. Clair Avenue, CLEVELAND, OH

Page 168

R H ry K L GE T E Cc R » lubes-No Liquid The New Vesta Dry Trickle Charger is the very latest development in Radio power supply. < eee No acid or liquid in any form—no tubes or moving parts to wear out. Supplied with or without AUTO- MATIC RELAY which turns on the current when set is turned off and like- wise turns off the current when set is turned on. This relay any elim1 and in natically cuts off and ty of line noises battery power. Ask your dealer for the New Vesta Trickle Charger. Compact, in netal case with high and low charging rate Without Relay, $15 With Relay, $17.50 Vesta Trickle Charger and “A” Power Units are also furnished with Balkite Rectifiers 1uto! aye nates poss1D1lt ures full Dry a handsome as ~~ A G49 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST GETTING ON IN THE WORLD (Continued from Page 69) Fe VESTA DRY “A” Socket power unit With relay, ut relay DIL.U~. drometer with NEW “B" UNIT ket power with aut 40 mils, 180 volrs, $39 ils, 180 volts, $44.50. $37 mati Everything visible—inc luding batteries—dry ckle charger and built “in hy- 50; | sidered The secretary of a large organization ten years ago had an office boy whom he con- for a time, at least—as being about the slowest and dumbest lad that ever lived. One day he found the boy in | the stationery stock room watching a serv- ice man repair a typewriter. The secretary watched the process, and he noted the fe- verish interest the boy showed in the repair work. The following day the secretary rang for the boy. “John, you take care of these for me,”’ he said. ‘‘They are manuals on the care and repair of typewriters, and I want to keep them handy for reference.” That afternoon he peeked out through his office door and saw John stolidly and in- tently reading the manuals. One day at the end of the month the executive rang for the office boy. “John,” he said casually, ‘‘ there’s some- thing wrong with Miss Jacob’s machine. Do you suppose you could do anything to it that would make it work right?” I—I’ll try,” the boy said. He dug a couple of cheap screwdrivers out of his desk and went to work. In ten minutes the ma- chine was operating as smoothly as ever. A few days later the secretary called John to his office and presented him with a roll of real typewriter tools. “From now on, John,” he informed him, “you are going to be a sort of emergency August 20,1927 repair man around here. You'll find a little extra in your next pay envelope.”’ John literally dove into his work. the first time in his life he seemed to be really enthusiastic—which was as the sec- retary expected. A diffident yet confident John tackled the secretary one night after office hours. “‘Lookit here,” he spluttered. ‘“‘We got an awful lot of typewriters and they are going wrong all of the time. If we had three or four replacement machines I could take every machine in the place in its turn and give it a good overhauling and oiling.” It was a sound scheme. The secretary adopted it forthwith, and John was relieved of all further office-boy duties. Today John is an important cog in the machinery of a smooth-running office of considerable mag- nitude. He has under his supervision and under his training another boy, to whom he is imparting all the secrets of typewriter repairing. When that boy is capable of handling the work John is going away to learn all about the complicated inwards of adding and calculating machines, and when he returns his activities will be en- larged considerably, likewise his salary. Man handling is a great art; perhaps some day it will be a real science. It is one of the most important factors that deter- mine whether or not a man has real execu- tive ability. —Harry Botsrorp. For

never authorized. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (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. quotations from them for advertising promotions and stock-selling schemes is The use of our articles or

Jacob’s Ladder—F. Scott Fitzgerald Elbowroom— Hugh MacNair Kahler Table of Contents August 20, 1927 Cover Design by Bradshaw Crandell SHORT STORIES

Paris in Twenty-Four Hours—Horatio Winslow Bring Your Radio Up to Date och its ang = a . rar ivney s ustache— james arner ellan with VESTA tied ER ea NIV . S A Married Man’s Job— Fannie Kilbourne With the experience 5) ven ” bee i Handicaps— George Pattullo ’ fos The Porter Missing Men—Octavus Roy Cohen COMPLETE “A-B" UNIT an ao Socket power (dry rectifier) auto- matic relay. 40 mils, 18 0 volts, $72.00; 60 mils, 180 voles, $77.00 Furor Britannicus—Struthers Burt Gambling— Chester T. Crowell From the Bridge—Capt. Sir Arthur H. Rostron My Life—Hermine Me—Gangster— Charles Francis Coe A Manual of Education for the Educated—Corra Harris Beavertown Comes Back—Robert B. Vale Cleaning Up— John Golden Fi vest ie : ve line of Vesta Non- Tubes for yse;, the VESTA BATTERY CORPORATION 2100 Indiana Avenue CHICAGO, ILL. SERIALS White Hands (Conclusion)— Arthur Stringer The Moccasin Telegraph (Conclusion)—Hal G every ra- height Of quality. NITS RIES FOR Evarts MISCELLANY Editorials Short Turns and Encores Getting On in the World Letters from Fraternity Cartoon and Comedy BA YEARS

i STA B ATTERY CORPORATION 2106 ndiauna ve { icago her sity de 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 address label from a recent copy.

Page 169

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 167 INDUSTRIAL BUILDINGS Complete from Standardized Uni ts-for. Immediate Delivery ae we eae uf nme a OFFICE BUILDING For whatever purpose you want a building, you can turn with confidence to Truscon for complete building service. Truscon engineers work with you in conjunction with your architect and contractor or, if you prefer, furnish you directly preliminary suggestions, complete data and estimated costs. Standardized units, including steel windows and steel doors, are combined to provide the right building for your —— individual needs. Truscon fabricates all parts that enter into FREIGHT STATION the construction of these permanent fireproof buildings, assuring you the greatest building value. Steeldeck Roofs for Truscon Buildings are Insulated and Waterproofed Roofs of universal service. A deck of steel; strong, lasting and fire-safe, with insulation of any desired degree and with waterproofing of any specified make. TRUSCON STEEL COMPANY, YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO,U.S.A. ESTABLISHED 1903 Manufacturers of a Complete Line of Permanent Building Products Warehouses and Offices in all Principal Cities. Dealers Everywhere. Foreign Trade Division: New York. The Truscon Laboratories, Detroit. Trussed Concrete Steel Co. of Canada, Limited, Walkerville, Ontario. SCC TRUSCON STEEL COMPANY, YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO Please send me ‘‘ Buildings by Truscon’’O)‘‘Steeldeck Roofs.”’ We are interested in a building for approximate size Length Width Height Type as checked below SERIES “A"—Pitched Roof Types 0 Type l 0 Type 2 O Type 3 OO Type 3-M DO Type 4 DD Sawtooth Type SERIES “B"'—Flat Roof Types 0 Type 1 O Type 2 0 Type 3 oO O Type 4 O Type 4-M Som olh Mail without obligation, literature and information on items checked below Steel Windows Fireproof Construction Boxes and Platforms Metal Lath I-Plates for Roof Decks Foundry Flasks Steel Joists Reinforcing Pavements Waterproofing and Paints Steel Doors Steel Poles C) Cement Roofing Tile Firm Name Individual Address turn Cou for these

Page 170

168 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 20,1927 FOR TOWN AND COUNTRY in smartest gatherin g places of smartest —America Mt. Washington Hotel at Bretton Woods, N. H., a rendezvous of sport lovers of the smart set. At tea or : ian : . ’ me . tennis, on the links or bridle path, one meets those ¥ F — obtainable in your own neighbourhood, at a distinguished members of the Blue Book, after whom she seat Aiea ean teed shop never more than a few squares’ distance HERE the “right thing” is a fetish—at Newport Ith. and Bar Harbor—at Asheville and Southampton— in the great fashion centers of cosmopolitan life, and wherever gentlefolk practice the social graces, Johnston's is the accepted mode. Thus, one gives this fine candy, secure in the knowledge of admitted correctness—or brings it into his own home to take its place among the good things of life. The Town & Country Box is an excellent selection for all purposes—as a gracious offering to one whose social debtor you are. Or for the thoughtful week-end gift to an hospitable hostess. You will find a wide variety of Johnston's Chocolates at one of the better class stores in your neighbourhood + & Country, an assortment specially selected for summer at one und. Other famous packages include the Chocolate Bazar at — pound and the Choice Box, Cavalier, Triad, Twenty-Odd © 1927 and a half the pound—all reflecting the same high quality CHOCOLATE S cial acceptance of Johnston's Cc wee A EG DO

Page 171

__—_———————————————— Yesterda y) | | the art of j

| | i} perfect | entertauning || was often marred |, by | | 2 ae se || . § | Oclverplate | ‘aa

| ai r . ‘ oday—beautiful settings of matched silverplate are within the reach of all a ~ Now you can be proud of your table. sure that it is perfectly up-to- moderate price put this refinement within the reach of the most modest date. . . :f its charm is completed by matched silverware. For today no income. And their unequalled quality, reinforced for extra wear, backed budget is too small to cover a set of Wm. Rogers & Son silverplate. by a guarantee without time limitation makes these sets a wise in- And there are sets. . . small or large to fit your needs, in boxes, chests or | vestment for tomorrow as well as a source of pride and pleasure today on useful serving trays. Wm. Rogers & Son wide selection of pieces and 6 Tea Spoons $1.75 6 Butter Spreaders $4.40 Cold Meat Fork $1.25 each 6 Oyster Forks $3.20 6 Dinner Forks $3.50 Two-piece Carvers $6.60 ' 6 Table Spoons $3.50 6 Salad Forks $4.80 Gravy Ladle $1.50 each 6 Bouillon Spoons $3.50 6 Hollow Handle Dinner Knives (Stainless Stee!) $9.80 Case of Plenty—86 pieces $74.50 Pieces of 8—34 piece Tray Set $24.25 Modern Home 26 piece Tray Set $16.00 Petite Family 20 piece Tray Set $9.75

=

Geass oe LS JANE SA Rat eee 34) oP ae = « if :

. SSS kk NESSIE ee < RENE: 7S oY SF 2s Fopularly Friced Silverplate~Quality Guaranteed hy~ ERNATIONAL SILVER

Page 172

“Yes, sir, that's my orchestra; it couldn't be more realistic.”’ PAUL WHITEMAN. Lance: . . to the music of America’s favorite orchestras P. tL WuiteMan. Waring’s Pennsyl- vanians. George Olsen and His Music. Roger Wolfe Kahn. Coon-Sanders. Jean Goldkette. . . . Select your orchestra from these and other great Victor organi- zations. Choose your own program. Have all the encores you want and the new Orthophonic Victor Records, Through the new Orthophonic Victrola you can bring the best dance orchestras of America right into your living-room! Exactly as you would hear them in famous grills or in concert! Music no dance-loving feet can resist cA world of entertainment on instant tap Whatever your taste or mood, the Orthophonic Victrola is ready to re- spond with music by the foremost artists. Music that can be heard in the home in no other way For Victor The New Orthophonic The Orthophonic Victrola furnish the finest music for the home. It never di ippornt Model Four-three is $95, list price. Canadian price on request VICTOR TALKING MACHINE CO tone is the tone of rea/- ism... reproduced by Victor's exclusive Orthophonic principle. Vivid! Lifelike! As radically different as the modern motor-car in comparison to the “‘horscless carriage And the new Orthophonic Victor Records, recorded by microphone, have a character of tone that is pleasing beyond description. Rich. Round. Mellow. Ask your Victor dealer to demonstrate one of these instruments in your home, where you may judge for yourself its harmonious appearance as well as its musical reproduction. There are many beautiful models, from $75 to $300, list price. Silent electric motor ($35 extra) climinates winding. The Aut matic Orthophonic Victrola, which changes its own records, 1s $600, list price. A CAMDEN, NEW JERSEY, U.