The Saturday Evening Post 1929-05-25: Vol 201 Iss 47

Page 1

Le — — Ss Sn — | THE SATURDAY | EVER ST 10c. in Canada Volume 201, Number 47 cts. ; ‘a May 25,'29 “4g ee -KERNAN- Ernest Poole—John P. Marquand—Arthur Train—Commander Ralph D. Weyerbacher Richard Matthews Hallet—Garet Garrett—William Hazlett Upson—P. G. Wodehouse

Page 2

They look the same, taste the same. There’s the same pecan flavor, the same crunchy crisp- ness of pure whole wheat toasted. But now—a new vitamin in Muffets! Added to whole wheat’s valuable health properties, cal- ories, minerals, bran—one more essential food element. Vitamin D, rare in our ordinary diet! The sunshine vitamin, builder of bone and teeth! It’s been added to Muffets by the Steenbock Process of Irradi- ation, exposure to ultra-violet rays, rays much like those which give tosunshine marvelous health- producing and curative powers. You get too little Vitamin D from its chief natural source, the outdoor summer sun. Add to your supply with Muffets! All Muffets now in stores con- tain Vitamin D, whether the package is so marked or not. The Quaker Oats Co., Chicago; and Peterborough, Canada. ee oe Ot eRe Rt 9 HR cine

Page 3

ment: SIR Sa nome? THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Mrs. REGINALD C. VANDERBILT “Holeproof Hosiery has made it possible for every woman to add to the charm of the ensemble. Color correctness, the first requisite of hosiery smartness, finds its per- fect expression in this beautiful hosiery.” Mrs. HAMILTON LUDLOW PELL “I find in Holeproof Hosiery, as styled by Lucile, of Paris, the same indelible stamp of authority that one gets in French hosiery shades ... it is unfailing in its interpretation of that which is truly chic.” place fashion's stamp ot approval on HOLEPROOF HOSIERY Holeproof Hosiery enjoys the preference of fash- ion-minded women because of its unerring inter- pretation of the mode in color. Blended and harmonized by Lucile, of Paris, to the newest trends in fabrics and in shoes, as well as to the complexion, Holeproof is definitely related to all that is good taste in costuming. Yet with all its beauty of shade and lines, the trustworthy quality, long associated with the name of Holeproof, remains unchanged. Holeproof meets the vigorous wearing needs of the day as can only a hosiery to which fifty-eight years of rigid insis- tence upon excellence have been devoted. Choose from thirty-four tints including the alluring new suntan tones... Bewitching harmonies and contrasts to accent or complement every costume —and to match every glowing, suntanned skin. Paris colors are set by a non-fading process. Their soft, rich lustre keeps through laundering. Available in a variety of transparent chiffons or heavier service weights, free from streaks and shad- ows. Contrasting Picot-edged tops and smart French clocks, if desired. Priced moderately. Holeproof Hosiery Co., New York City and London, Canada. HOLEPROOF HOSIERY Copyright 1929, Holeproof Hosiery Company Mars. STUYVESANT Fish Morais “I sensed the perfection of Holeproof shades the first time I saw them. They are French- born the creation of Lucile, of Paris, who epitomizes for me truc olor har nony in fashion Mrs. MorGAN BELMONT In Holeproot, I feel 1 am adding to my ensemble the subtlest, the smartest hosiety that can be had Not only are these stock ings exquisitely beautiful, but their colors are always authentic

Page 4

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 MALACCA—that'’s the color the style leaders ve are wearing (the soft shades of tan you find in the malacca walking stick.) Get in Disie Weaves coal, porous wools or worsteds that keep ak hte and style in the most ‘sig — _HART SCHAFFNI

Page 5

: i eee

Published Weekly The Curtis Publishing Company Cyrus H. K. Curtis, President George H. Lorimer, First Vice-President John B, Williems, Second Vice-President Walter D. Fuller, Second Vice-President and Secretery. Philip S. Collins, Second: Vice-President and Treasurer Fred A. Healy. Advertising Director Independence Squere,Philedelphie

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST oS Founded A°D' 1728 Sy Benj. Franklin Bafana fe Reser fates oe Cop» right. 1929, by The Curtis Publishing Company in the United States end Greet Britein. Tithe Registered in U.S. Pent Office end in Foreign Countries. Entered os Second-Cless Matter ot the Post-Office Department, Ottews, Con. George Horace Lorimer EDITOR Thomes B. Costein, A.W. Neeli, Frederick S. Bigelow. Wesley Stout. B.Y. Riddell, Thomes L. Masson. Merritt Hulburd, W. Thornton Mertin, March 35,1879. Additions! Entry ot

ot egetg Chg teSerennah Ge ,.Denver,Cole.. ° ston, Tex..Omehs. Neb. Ogden, Uteh, JecKsonville, Fle... New Orieens Le. Foertiend, Me., and Los Angeles, Cel i

Volume 20! Sc. THE copy PHILADELPHIA, PA., MAY 25, 1929 $2.00 By Subscription ‘S2 issues) Number 47

The writer wishes to acknowledge the invaluable help of Robert Dollar in this work. Though declining to take any share in the profits from this biography, he has been most generous of his time, while urging me also to go out and talk to his competitors. ‘‘I have nothing I want to hide,”’ he said. His privately printed memoirs,,too, were a gold mine of material. CTIVE still at eighty-four, he sat at a desk in his New York office, with one long, powerful, wrinkled hand on a wireless message from one of his ships, on which he had just written O.K. A little more than six feet tall, with broad shoulders slightly stooped, white hair and beard, a strongly lined and ruddy face, and deep-set, twinkling, keen blue eyes, he looked like a reincarnation from the old Yankee merchant-trader days. He has been in this country seventy years, but he spoke to me in a low voice that had a strong Scotch accent still. Both in his frame and in his skin there was a certain ruggedness, from long exposure to wind TAIN DOLL. Fi, +

IR — By Ernest Poole Melvilles from Calcutta and Singapore. For his moth- er’s people had followed the sea. In the same year that he was born, a ship they owned, the Helen Mar, with one of his uncles as captain and two more of his relatives as ship carpenter and first mate, on a voyage back from Calcutta was lost in a typhoon, with all on board. The Melvilles had been in lumber, too; it made part of the cargoes of their ships. And one of his mother’s uncles owned a little lumberyard. His father was the manager, and they lived over the office at first; but later they moved to a house with a garden, and there he spent

and weather. Through the broad, open window behind him, I saw the Olympic far below, steaming up the harbor. It was nine o’clock in the morning of a hot midsummer’s day. He had been up since six o’clock, and he was still busy when I left at 4:30 that after- “ noon. He had just come around the world; for his interests lie all over the earth, and the backgrounds of his story are the seas and the for- ests and world trade. Robert aed

Dollar of the Dollar Line. He os ' lives in San Francisco. In ms + the autumn I followed him ’ : there; and in his office and his Rit home, whenever he had time ~ to spare, he told me the story

oe: -

Robert Deliar in 1855, Prom a Sitheuette Made in Scot: tand his early years. At his school the teacher had only one arm, but he often used a cane with it “That was one big feature of theeducation of those days <—— to get a good sound thrashing several times a week,” he suid ' Meanwhile, at home the : sinall, lean boy had a str'ct ae religious bringing up, in Scotch , Presbyterian style. When he : was nine, hismotherdied; and 5 his father, to drown his sor-

of his life. Pioneer of the Pa- tific and great friend of the Chinese, one of the richest ship- owners in the entire ocean world, and building and watch- ing and grasping to keep hold of this changing modern age, he is a strenuous figure still. Yet he dates away back to the old, old days. He was born in Falxirk, Scotland, in 1844. His moth- er’s name was Melville, like that of the author of Moby Dick. Werethey related in any way? He had never heard of Moby Dick and sohe had never thought of that. But heshowed meanold, yellow piece of paper of the year 1798, signed by Lord Nelson and commission- ing one of the Melvilles to a ship that had been captured from the French in the Napo- leonic times. And he showed me old letters written by

rows, took to drinking hard at The Markham Mill on the Russian River, Sonoma County, Califernia. times. On one such night the At Left—The Wedding Photo of Robert Dotlar and His Bride small boy swore he'd never touch liquor, He never has Later his father married again. His stepmother was good to him, but they could not afford to keep him in school; so at twelve he started work in a machine shop, tending a lathe. He got sixty cents for that first week and ran home with it, greatly excited. He has made millions of dollars since. His home was nearly three miles from the sea, but the place where he worked was down at the port, and he spent his spare hours around the docks; saw ships come in from the Orient, heard stories told of India The next year, 1858, his father decided to emigrate, and took his wife and his two sons on a sailing ship to Quebec. From there they went to Ottawa, where young Dollar found a job in a stave factory near by, working a twelve-hour day for wages of six dollars amonth. And only a year or two after that he went to work in a lumber camp. The crew of lumberjacks, that fall, left Ottawa in birch-bark canoes and went ten days up the Gatineau River, where there were many rapids and long, hard portages through the snow. They built their log camp deep in the big woods. There he was chere boy to the cook. And there began a training that molded his whole character and affected all the rest of his life. “I had never been away from home, I knew mighty little about the world, and I was thrown into the forest,” he said, “with a crew of lumberjacks who were the roughest of the rough. Only three or four spoke English. All the rest were French Canadians. The winter days were short up there, so the stars had hardly paled in the sky when they were off into the woods. They worked as late as they could see, and then through the heavy snow came staggering into camp after dark.” The big square cabin had no bunks. In the center was the camboose, a sanded space framed in with logs; a huge log fire crackled there and the smoke went up through a hole in the roof. The lumberjacks ate their suppers and smoked, took off their heavy moccasins and lay down on the floor with their feet to the fire. And they told stories and they talked. And the small, lean, lonesome boy strained his ears to get that French. He began to get it soon. It was rough, and

Page 6

4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST he was often horrified. On Sundays he took his Bible off into the snowy forest, and was pretty miserable—a long way from home and the kirk. But he soon cheered up sufficiently to play a little prac- tical joke on the foreman, Sandy Kingsbury. A few in- quiring, friendly skunks kept wandering into camp at night, and Sandy decided to kill a few; so while the men were at their supper he ordered young Dollar out into the cold, to shout if any came around. While the young Scot stood shivering there he meditated his revenge; and upon seeing one of the brutes go into a hollow log, he hurried over and plugged that end and pushed a pole into the other. Then he shouted for Sandy to come with his gun. Sundays still and practiced writing and figuring too—on birch bark at first, and later in an old account book he had found. He was figuring hard one afternoon, when the owner of the company arrived in camp on a tour of in- spection. Hiram Robinson was his name. “What are you doing there?’”’ he asked. The lean Scotch boy looked up with a start. “The cook don’t need me, sir,’”’ he replied. “Show me what you're doing.” He did. And the result of their talk that day was that Mr. Robinson sent him next year with a crew of French to a camp still farther up the river—more than 150 miles from May 25, 1929 “T had to keep the time of each man and figure out his pay,” he said, “‘and keep track of the cutting too. And besides, I kept accounts for the van—which is short for vanjouterie—the canteen, from which the men bought to- bacco and clothes. I was getting the beginning of a good business education and I didn’t know it.” He had little time to think of that; for at seventeen, being taller now and his muscles harder still, he worked all day with an ax in the woods and had to keep his accounts at night. He was given the lighter work at first—clearing lumber roads through the brush and the windfalls. He had been at it all one day and was working on in the deepening dusk, when out of the shadows behind him the voice of “The beastie is right up here, sir!’ he cried —which was just the opposite of the truth. “‘Go doon to that end and take out the plug, and I'll drive him doon to you with this pole!” So the tall foreman got down on his knees, took out the plug and looked into the log. Precisely at that moment, young Dollar, at the other end, jabbed in hard with his long pole. And in less time than it takes to tell, an infuriated lumber boss was chasing a small boy into the forest. But he could remember no other pranks. “TI had no time for them,” he said. He was too busy working and learning things. He learned French very quickly, and he was rapidly hardening, too; he grew wiry, all bonesand muscle. “I had to be,” he told me. He washed the dishes and brought in the wood, cleaned the stables and helped with the oxen, and learned to use an ax and a gun. The men shot deer and moose in the fall and made moc- casins for themselves from the hides. So did he; and like the others, he ] the camp foreman was heard: “T been watch you for some time. Nevair I see a young fellah work with such a determination before.” “T want to finish this piece tonight before I quit,” young Dollar said. And he did, and then went in to camp, to try to catch up in his ac- counts. No candles or lamps in that cabin of logs, so he worked by the flaring leaping light of the log fire on the camboose. While he fig- ured out their pay, the lumberjacks lay on the floor with their feet to the fire; they talked and then snored. But the lean young Scotch- man worked doggedly on. And he did this many nights, until at last he strained hiseyes. Late one eve- ning they grew so bad that the fire was only a blur of red. He had night-blind for more than twoweeks; but he heard he could cure it by sour milk, so he got two bottles and sipped a little every day. When he got well, the foreman gave him a candle at night, and a half day off now and then, so that he could catch up with his figuring. wore thick homespun clothing wore it all winter, day and night. As the Earth Waved For the winters were cold up there in the North, cold and weirdly grand at night with the crackling glow of the Northern Lights. Early Hardships “TOR months,” he told me, “our only food was fat salt pork and bread, with now and then pea soup or beans. On account of this diet, some of the men were laid up for days with swollen legs. We called it blackleg. It was something like beriberi that comes from eating too much rice, over in China and Japan.”” Night-blind was another common complaint. Out of the snowy forest at dusk a man would come in, being led by his friends, and remained almost totally blind until dawn. “This, too, came from thediet,” hetoldme. “ Howstupid not to feed men better than they did in those old days! Whole weeks of labor time were lost, so the em- | ployer lost as well.”” The men had rheumatism too. For in the spring they drove their logs far down the river to the mills. It took them E WENT on for two or three years like that, learning the woodsman’s work by day and the business side of it by night. And of those years, too, he had stories to tell, but I have space for only one. At twenty he went with a gang of twelve men to haul provisions in to their camp on heavy sledges, or trains de glace, two men to each 400- pound load, in midwinter, through the woods, across frozen lakes and over the hills. The snow was often four feet deep. They spread brush on it at night and slept with only one blanket apiece. One evening they camped on the side of a moun- tain. It snowed all night. They were wakened by a slight earth- quake. At first blinded by snow from the shaken trees, “As it cleared we saw a grand, strange sight.” For on the opposite mountainside they could follow the earth wave’s course by the snow that it shook from the tree tops. Behind that long, sinuous, moving line the firs were green; in front they were white! He had his picture taken that year. “We've lost it,” his wife told months, and they were in ice water 5. €. WHITEN, ORMLIA halfthe time. The Scotch boy often went in with the rest. Every day iL they moved camp. At night they (= came in, wet, tired and cold, and demanded the tea that was served to them if they paid one dollar extra.a month. But the tea was not always nice. One dark night, when young Dollar’s turn came, after all the rest had been served, he noticed by the fire- light a queer, whitish foam in the bottom of the huge iron pot. So he got a big fork and fished about till he hooked some dirty dish rags wrapped around a piece of soap! The camp cook had left them there! Whether he, too, paid a dollar a month for that delecta- ble beverage I gravely doubt, for he told me he saved nearly every cent of his ten-dollar monthly pay. He was saving to buy a farm for his parents. He read his Bible on A Seattie Dock Scene During the Aiaska Gold Rush me, “but he had it when I married | him, and it showed him quite tall, all muscle and bone, with a strong nar- anyone but Indians. And there he kept the camp accounts. He did not think he could do it at first, and so he balked like a young mule. “My writing is bad and my spelling is worse,” he told Mr. Robinson. “Never mind. You're smart and you're careful. I know you'll try hard.” “But my figuring’s poor! I'll make mistakes!” “That will be my funeral,’’ Robinson said. So young Dollar took the job—and he did make mis- takes at first. There was plenty of chance and no help at hand, for the camp foreman was French. row face and a longjaw. He looked a little like Lincoln then.” “Those five years were the hardest I have ever put in,” he wrote, “‘and they taught me the only way to get on was by working just as hard as I could, being persistent and overcoming all sorts of difficulties, and always putting aside a little money.”’ He was still Scotch. The next year he had a surprise—‘“‘ My first real pio- neering job,”’ he said. His firm had bought the property of a bankrupt lumber company far up on the Du Moines River, and he was ordered to go up there, take over the property and the crew, and bring the winter’s logs down the river, a distance of some 300 miles. He was jubilant. (Continued on Page 158) on

Page 7

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST s ? One dark October day, Some privates from Battery B were digging A hole in the stiff wet clay. () A WOODED slope near the Madeleine Farm, As they worked they could hear from all around The roar of the Argonne attack; The pounding of hundreds of heavy guns That were driving the Germans back. From the north they could hear an answering roar As the Germans made their reply; Sending a steady stream of shells Howling across the sky. Now all this uproar meant nothing at all To those pick-and-shovel boys; As long as no shells came down near by They didn’t mind the noise. But one of the bunch—a skinny lad Called Curtis Augustus Lee— Turned around to his friend, young Pudgy Monroe, And spoke most bitterly: “The whole trouble with this outfit,’”’ he said, “‘is these filthy horses. Sickly, knock-kneed skates. They can’t pull a gun up a hill or through a mudhole without us push- ing on the wheels. And now so many of them have died or been bumped off that I doubt if we could move the battery on a level road any more. What we ought to have is tractors.” “Tractors?” said Pudgy. “Sure,” said Lee. “‘ Didn't you see that motorized bat- tery down south of the Madeleine Farm? We ought to be like them. They have tractors to pull their guns. They live a life of luxury.” “It looks to me like tractors might be just as much trouble as horses,” said Pudgy. “That’s because you’re ignorant. You don’t know any- thing. But Ido. I used to work in the tractor factory at Peoria. And I tell you if we had half a dozen of them machines we'd be jake. No more grooming, feed- ing and watering. Five minutes’ work every morn- ing to put in the gas and oil. And we'd have power todrag them guns anywhere atall. Nomore heav- ing on gun wheels. No more walking. Everybody would ride. And no more digging holes like this because a few shell fragments more or less don’t mean nothing to a steel tractor.” “I wonder whose idea it was,” “digging these holes?” “Tt was that half-witted colonel,” said Lee. “‘I was down at the P. C. yesterday when he came over. ‘Captain,’ he says, ‘we can’t send the horses back to the echelon. We may have to move at an instant’s notice. Have your men scoop out a few holes in the side of the hill over there so the horses will have protection in case we are shelled.’ Can you tie that? ‘Scoop out a few holes,’ he says. And then goes back to his dugout and lays down for another nap.” said Pudgy CHEN “I Want You Two Men to Scoop Out a Hole and Bury Him. “It don’t look like he knows what a big job it is,” said Pudgy. “Of course he don’t. These colonels don’t know noth- ing.” “We worked ten hours yesterday,” said Pudgy, “and two hours so far this morning. We've finished one hole big enough for four horses. And there’s over a hundred horses in the battery. There ain't no sense to this job.” ‘There ain’t nosense to anything in this Army,” said Lee. “‘Here I am—a swell mechanic. I enlist in the Tank Corps. Right away, for no reason at all, and without even asking me, they transfer me into this lousy outfit. And I waste my talents digging holes which, even if we was to finish them which we never will — would probably be too shallow to pro- tect a lot of horses that would be better off dead anyway.” “All right, you two!” said the voice of the first sergeant behind them. “I got a new job for you—an easy job.” “What is it?’”’ asked Lee. “Report at the observation post. You can find it by following the telephone wire from the guns. Lieutenant Jones is up there, and he'll tell you what to do.” “*Swell,” said Lee. ‘‘ No more pick-and-shovel work.” “Hurray!” said Pudgy. With happy smiles they dropped their tools, And left as fast as they could; And they started along the telephone wire Which stretched away through the wood. They followed it north for a eouple of miles To a hilltop, where they found Lieutenant Jones and a tele- phone man In a little hole in yw the ground. They Promptly Raised Their Hands in the Air, and Shouted, By William Hazlett Upson rTeELuvuSsS TRA TE O TrOoNnwr 5 ARG rul See You Later" The hole was behind an old stone wall, And by carefully looking through The chinks between the ancient stones You got a wonderful view Of a valley whose nearer slope was held By American infantry, While the farther side was occupied By the soldiers of Germany. Jones had a scissors instrument — A sort of a telescope. His job was to spot the battery shells As they burst on the opposite slope, And send to the officer back at the guns A telephone report As to whether the shells were hitting the mark, Or were off to one side, or | short. But there was no firing just at that time, And Pudgy Mon- roe and Lee ‘*"Kamerad!"*

Page 8

Arrived as Lieutenant Jones was starting Back to the battery. The lieutenant paused, and then he pointed A few yards down the hill, Where lay the remains of an army horse, Stiff and stark and still. “You see that horse?” he asked pleasantly. “Yes, sir,”” said Lee. “T rode him up here last week. A German shell fragment got him. And he’s beginning to get pretty ripe.” “He is,” admitted Lee. “There are some picks and shovels up by the telephone. I want you two men to scoop out a hole and bury him. I'l! see you later.” The lieutenant jauntily turned around, And walked away from there, While Pudgy and Lee regarded that horse With resentment and despair. “That shavetail talks just like the colonel,” said Lee. “‘Scoop out a hole,’ he says, like it was the easiest thing in the world.” “Tt ain't,” said Pudgy. “If a tractor gets shot to pieces,” said Lee, “‘you can leave it beside the road and forget it. If it’s a horse that gets shot you have to bury it—and it always dies in a place where the dig- ging is hard.” “Well, there's nothing we can do about it,” said Pudgy. “‘ Let's get busy.” So they sadly went back tc the hole by the wall Where the telephone man had stayed, And he promptly and cheerfully handed them out A pick and a cute little spade. But they weren’t in a hurry to start their job; So Curtis Augustus Lee Took a look through the scissors instrument To see what he could see. He pointed the giass at the valley below And slowly swung it around, Inspecting a forest, and several farms, And a half-demolished town. He could hear the steady muffled roar Of distant batteries; He could see the smoke of bursting shells In a grove of poplar trees; He heard machine guns crackle and spit in some woods far off to the right, But he saw no soldiers anywhere; They were keeping out of sight. At last he pointed the instrument down At a patch of woods near by, And right away he opened his mouth In a loud and joyful cry: “Pudgy!"’ he yelled. “Pudgy! Look what I found! Down there in that little clearing in the woods. Right be- side that big tall tree. Take a squint at it.” “Looks like a wagon,” said Pudgy, putting his eye to the instrument “Wagon nothing,” said Lee. “It’s a tractor, and it has a gun fastened on behind it.” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “There’s a German name on it,” said Pudgy. “It’s probably a German tractor that they left behind when they retreated,”’ said Lee. ‘‘ Let's get out of this hole. I want to talk to you privately. I got an idea.” They nodded good-by to the telephone man; They took the pick and the spade; They walked down the hill to the old dead horse, And Lee turned to Pudgy and said: “‘Pudgy, you and I are going to get that tractor and take it back to the battery.” “Oh, no, we ain’t,”’ said Pudgy. “It wouldn’t be safe. That thing is too near the German lines, and we ain’t got no weapons.” “We don’t need no weapons,”’ said Lee. “It’s way over on this side of the valley; probably a mile behind our own lines.”’ “It might be,”’ admitted Pudgy, “‘but how do you know it will run?” “It won’t hurt anything to go and see.” “* And suppose we did get it, what good would it do us?” “‘ Ain’t you got noimagination? Don’t you know the bat- tery is short of horses, and that the captain would be tickled to death to get a big tractor to pull one or two of the guns?” “Suppose he was tickled to death. That wouldn’t help you and me any.” “Of course it would. We would get the job of driving the tractor. No more walking. No more pushing on gun wheels. No more feeding and grooming. No more dig- ging horses’ graves and subterranean stables.” May 25,1929 “There might be something in that,” said Pudgy. “But how about this horse here? The lieutenant told us to bury it.” “To hell with the lieutenant. We can’t be bothered just because his ladylike nose can’t stand a few whiffs of a good healthy stink. The Government pays us to help win the war. It’s our duty, for the good of the service, to show a little initiative and go after that tractor. Are you com- ing?”’ “Well, I might, at that,”’ said Pudgy. “All right, come on.” So they started down the southern slope, And they circled around until They finally reached the patch of woods On the northern side of the hill, And they saw, above the smaller growth A half a mile away, The big tall tree that marked the place Where the German tractor lay. They pushed along through the underbrus’: But before they got near this tree .)

Page 9

— * —_ THE SATURDAY EVENING Lee Saw the Team on the Water Cart Get Under Way é With a Leaping Start and Sideswipe a Wagon Stand: ing Near By They ran across a little group Of American infantry; A sergeant and four or five privates, That were pleasantly sitting around With a nice little Hotchkiss machine gun "In a shell hole in the ground. The hole was camouflaged with brush, And the little machine gun stood With its muzzle pointing north across An open space in the wood. The sergeant beckoned to Pudgy and Lee So they stopped and clambered down Beside the sergeant and his men In their camouflaged hole in the ground. “Where do you guys think you're going?”’ asked the sergeant. “We got orders,”’ said Lee, “to look over a tractor that the Germans left out in the woods in front here. If it’s in good shape we’re going to bring it in.” “Well. I wish you luck,” said the sergeant. “Only try not to stir up them Fritzes. They might start shooting at you, and hit us.” “You mean there are Fritzes in this woods?” *7b~we_f. CALRG S we - “They're dug in about a kilo : meter north of here,”’ said the sergeant. “They might have pa- trols out. But I don’t think so; it’s been pretty quiet the last cou- ple of days.” “Say,” said Lee, “just where is the American front line?” “This is it.” “You mean there are no Americans in front of here at all?” “Not a one.” “ What is this front line anyway?” asked Lee. “Just a row of machine- gun nests?” “That's it,” said the sergeant. ‘“‘There’s an emplacement a hundred yards off to the left here, and another one about the same distance to the right, and others beyond them.” “And that means that the tractor is out in No Man’s Land,” said Pudgy. ** Maybe we better not try to get it after all.” “Yeah,” said the ser- geant, “I always knew you artillerymen was yel- low.” “If there wasn’t so many of you I'd knock your block off,”” said Lee. “But we'll show you. And when we come back with that tractor you want to remember we're Amer- icans, not Germans. We don’t want you getting scared and ‘hooting at us. Come on, Pudgy.” And Lee stepped out like a very brave man Ww With nothing at all to fear, hile Pudgy Monroe, with halting steps, Came trailing along in the rear. They crossed the clearing in front of the gun— It was less than a hundred yards wide— And entered a dense and tangled thicket Of brush on the northern side. And here they began to craw! along With their bellies flat on the ground, Peering ahead and listening hard For any unusual sound. And whenever they snapped a twig or two, A “Somehow,” whispered Pudgy, “‘I don’t like this busi- Or whenever they happened to hear rustle of wind in dry, dead leaves, They froze in their tracks with fear. ness. Let’s go back.” “Shut up,” whispered Lee. “I’m scared. I want to go back.’ “If you want to be a quitter you can go back by yourself. I'm going on.” “I’m too scared to go back all by myself.” “Then come with me.” “No chance of your changing your mind?” “Not a chance,” answered Lee “All right, then,” whispered Pudgy. “I suppose I'll have to come. But you better take this revolver.” “Where did you get a revolver?” “One of them infantry birds back there left it lying out beside the shell hole. I was scared we might meet some Germans, so I pinched it and brought it along. But now I’m so scared I don’t think I could use it even if we did meet some Germans. You better take it.” And Pudgy reached down inside his pants To a bulge beside his knee And produced a great big forty-five gat, Which he handed over to Lee. Lee took it and stuck it into his belt; Then he and Pudgy Monroe Started once more to craw! along, Careful and timid and slow. At last they reached the edge of the brush; They looked out cautiously, And they saw, in a little clearing ahead, The great big lonesome tree. At the foot of the tree was the tractor itself, A truly stupendous affair, With a thirty-foot frame and huge drive wheels That stood nine feet in the air. The motor had six great cylinders, Of something like eight-inch bore, And the driver’s seat was wide enough For the driver and five or six more. A single word, “Gretchen,” in great big letters, Was painted on the frame, Which showed that this was a female machine, And Gretchen was her name. Behind her there stood a heavy gun That was pretty well knocked to hell; It looked as if it had got in the way Of a high-explosive shell. “Probably,” Lee whispered to Pudgy, “the Fritzes were shelled when they were moving out. They unhooked the gun so they could leave it behind. And then they got so scared they abandoned everything. But the tractor seems all right. Let's look her over.” They gave a final glance around At the peaceful woodland scene, And they silently crossed the open space To the side of the big machine. Then they walked around to the farther side— Stepping softly and making no noise And ran right into a couple of healthy German soldier boys. Pudgy and Lee stopped short in their tracks, So paralyzed with fright They couldn't speak, they couldn't run, They couldn't even fight. But the Germans—although they also were scared Weren't paralyzed quite so bad; They promptly raised their hands in the air, And shouted, “‘Kamerad!”’ And then it slowly dawned on Lee That this shouting German pair Was probably getting sick of the war And wanted to quit right there. So he pulled out his gun and waved it around, As hard-boiled as could be, And he scowled at his prisoners and looked them over Slowly and carefully. Their uniforms were smeared with grease, And in front of them on the ground Were a lot of wrenches and other tools, Carelessly scattered around Continucd on Page !/*

Page 10

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 mor sr me a ares v. 8. FOREST Se evrce Fires All Too Frequently Follow in the Wake of the Lumberman and Complete the Devastation WENTY years ago conservation was a word that thrust itself be } tween good and evil. On one side, the ideal of stewardship and a fore- thought for posterity; on the other side, the forest killers, the soil wasters, those who disemboweled the earth of its min- eral resources in a spirit of greed. It was in 1909 that President Roosevelt called a conference of the governors and said to them: “I have asked you to come together now because the enormous consumption of these natural resources and the threat of imminent exhaustion of some of them, due to reckless and wasteful use, calls for common effort, common action. We want to take ac- tion that will prevent a woodless age PHOTO. BY S. 7. OANA. COURTESY U. S. FOREST SERVICE Repeated Fires Eventually Wipe Out All Forest Growth, Leaving a Burned Waste Which is Totally Nonproductive feet, enough to fill ten Mississippi Rivers. Half of it evaporates. One-third of it goes to the sea. One-sixth is lost, con- sumed or absorbed. The part that goes to the sea is the run-off. This will in- crease as the forests disappear, but the ability of its energy to turn turbine wheels is not increased at the same time; rather it is decreased, since without for- ests gently to detain the water, it runs off rapidly in a disorderly manner as flood; afterward the country is dry and the river beds are low. These four resources—land, forest, water power and rainfall—exist or occur on the surface and life is no less de- pendent upon them now than it has been from the beginning. But with the rise and defer as long as possible the advent PROTO. FROM EWING GALLOWAY, N.¥. © of an ironless age.” The governors listened to geologists who had measured the nation’s resources of wood, coal, oil and metals, and prophe- sied their early extinction; and to en- gineers who told how we were leaving half the coal as débris in the mines, three-quarters of the oil as dead waste in the sands, a third of the timber to rot in the forest, all because full recovery was either too much trouble or too expensive. In a few years, at the rate of forest killing that was then notorious, we should be not only woodless but scourged by floods, all the water running down to the sea in tor- rents, taking the land with it. Men appeared who repre- sented the wasteful industries. They were as converts confessing No voice was more eloquently jealous of our forests than that of a man whose own corporation was depleting them in a prodigious manner. Yet the lumber people were help- less. For various reasons, such as the irresponsibility of thousands of small competitors and the absurd tax laws that first obliged the owners of standing timber to log it off rapidly and then penalized reforestation, the lumber industry was unable to practice conservation and at the same time live. It could live only by waste until such time as conditions beyond its control were changed by iaw or public opinion When Governors Got Together HEN the governors talked and adopted resolutions, and these matters were printed in a book entitled, The Pro- ceedings of the Governors of the United States, of which the Congress caused to be printed and distributed at public expense twenty-six thousand copies. It might have been named The Book of Anxiety. The sight it held up to view was that of an eroded and looted land, treeless, grassless, juiceless, no more coal or ore or oil, life surviving only in some gaunt Bedouin fashion. Longleaf Pine Seedlings Pianted for Reforesting Near Bogalusa, Louisiana By Garet Garrett President Roosevelt's next step was to create a National Conservation Commission. From such imperfect data as then existed it made a painstaking inventory of the na- tion’s natural resources, including rainfall, and submitted therewith certain sound and excellent thoughts. In the development of a new country it distinguished three periods, irreversible. “The first stage,”’ it said, ‘was that of individual enter- prise for personal and family benefit. It led to conquest of the wilderness. The next stage was that of collective enterprise, either for the benefit of communities or for the profit of individuals forming the communities. It led to the development of cities and states and, too often, to the growth of great monopolies. The third stage is the one we are now entering. Within it the enterprise is collective and largely coéperative, and should be directed toward the larger benefit of communities, states and the people gen- erally.” It added: ‘In the first stage the resources receive little thought. In the second they are wastefully used. In the third, which we are entering, wise and beneficial uses are essential.” And then it classified resources according to their nat- ural differences. Land is limited in area but not in productivity; its fertility may be improved with right use. Forests may be grown again and are, therefore, to be re- garded asa replaceable resource. Water power is limited, but permanent, provided the forests are properly conserved. A forest is like a great sponge, first absorbing the rainfall and then releasing the water gradually, so that the soil is not eroded by torrents and the streams are made con- stant. Thus the annual rainfall is itself a resource to be conserved. What happens to it may be accounted for. First, it can be measured. It is so many billions of cubic of modern civilization come artificial necessities, and as this civilization de- velops industrial phenomena through power and machines, those artificial ne- cessities become vital. Yet they rest upon resources which we know to be limited and irreplaceable —that is to say, upon coal measures, oil pools, iron ores, elements, chem- icals, metallic substances created ages ago by processes that are not repetitive. These resources are once for all. They can never be replaced. Conservative in Their Conservation OW we were wasting all our resources alike with no distinction as to which were replaceable and which were not, and how at the same time there was irrational waste in examples of nonuse, as in not using water power, which is permanent, in place of coal, which is irreplaceable, or in not using coal before oil for fuel purposes, since the supply of coal is probably much greater and oil has essential uses for which coal cannot be substituted—all that was very clearly set forth. The National Conservation Commis- sion’s report, in fact, was a very solid piece of literature; its work might have been continued to the present time on more scientific data with great benefit to our habits of economic thinking. It was expected to continue, but that one report twenty years ago marked the high point of the conservation movement. If now you go asking in Wash- ington for the official literature of conservation, you are referred back to the Proceedings of the Governors and the report of the National Conservation Commission, both out of print; and there has been nothing of a comprehen- sive character since. And if you should go looking for the administration of a conservation policy you would find it scattered among various departments and independent establishments of government under various names. The Department of Commerce calls it utilization, or simplified practice, or standardization. The Federal Power Commission is for conservation of water power; protection ee

Page 11

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST S) of streams and rivers is a function of the War Depart- ment. The Federal Oil Conservation Board, created three years ago by President Coolidge, is for the conservation of the petroleum supply; conservation of a Federal oil supply is a function of a bureau in the Navy Department. Forest conservation is in the Department of Agriculture. Fish conservation is in the Department of Commerce. The public domain, exclusive of forests, is a responsibility of the Department of the Interior; so also is land reclama- tion, with its great irrigation projects. Its enormous dams change the flow of waters; yet the flow of waters is a con- cern of the War Department; its dams have a controver- sial by-product of power; yet the conservation and de- velopment of water power is a concern of the Federal Power Commission. Then the Geological Survey and the Bureau of Mines, which together have all the information there is touching the extent and location of mineral re- sources, though of course nothing to say about how they shal] be treated on any ground of public policy. There is nowhere any organized, controlling view of national re- sources as a whole. There is no surviving body or board like the National Conservation Commission. That is to say, something definitely happened to the conservation movement associated with the name of Roosevelt. It did a great deal of good, certain general ideas were established, modes of thinking were started that have resulted in a body of much better engineering and industrial practice. Nevertheless, the movement as such subsided. The anxiety went out of it. And this must seem very strange in How much of this fluid energy remains to be pumped out of the earth nobody can tell. Any day may be that one beyond which thereafter to the end the supply will diminish. We may discover vast new pools; then again we may have discovered the last of them. When the pools are exhausted it is supposed that we shall turn to the oil-bearing rocks, but energy from that source may be much more costlv. One needs no statistics to prove that each of us is helping to consume more power, light, heat, transportation and what else than was ever consumed by any people in the world until now. The evidence is free at every point of common living. It means that we are using up our irreplaceable resources in a progressive manner and at the same time making our civilization more and more dependent upon them. More- over, it is assumed that as the standard of living must continue to rise, so also the rate at which we consume these exhaustible resources must continually increase. There- fore, if conservation was a thought that made any sense whatever twenty years ago, it is one that in all reason should by this time have gained a very intense meaning. It is not so. That condition of imminent woodlessness and ironlessness which people, under Roosevelt’s sugges- tion, began to get excited about nearly a quarter of a century ago, seems now to be the least of our national anxieties. We are much more concerned to go on increasing to the utmost the production of divisible, consumable wealth, as if there would never be an end to the raw materials. COPYRIGHT BY EWING GALLOWAY, ®. ¥. C So, what was it that happened to the conservation movement? Well, for one thing, as it turned out, many of its facts had been distorted by emphasis. It was true then, and still is, that we are using up our forests much faster than we replace them and that there are vast areas of cut-over land lying in a state of shocking waste. It is not true that it takes a century to replace timber, unless you are thinking of a primeval forest, which is ro- mantic and uneconomic. We have only to combine grazing with timber culture on a cropping basis, as now we know how and are beginning to do. The Problem of Too Much Food T WAS true then, and still is, that we are very reckless in our handling of the land for purposes of agriculture. It is not true that we need to have any anxiety about our food supply. How could the governors have imagined that from the application of machine power and scientific-fact knowledge to American agriculture the productivity of both land and labor would be raised to a point at which, twenty years later, the problem would be how to eliminate an uneconomic surplus of both foodstuffs and food pro- ducers? And as to minerals, the old conservationists inclined on one hand to underestimate the stock in order to dramatize their case, and on the other hand, to underestimate or quite neglect the possibiiities of tech- light of the vital and physical facts. Population meanwhile has in- creased more than thirty millions. The World War made enormous de- mands upon our store of irreplaceable resources, particularly iron ore, cop- per and other metals. Since the war our own consumption of these same irreplaceable things has increased much faster than the population. Buried Treasure OT one gallon more of petroleum has been secreted in the sands since 1909, yet the quantity annually pumped out has increased fivefold. The output of automobiles in one year may rise to five millions. To the automobile add aircraft, the Diesel- engined ship, the tractor, motortruck transportation, millions of internal- combustion engines in all kinds of other power duty, and you have a demand upon the oil supply such as no one could have imagined twenty years ago. nology touching both production and use. We may still be leaving half the coal in the mines, but at the same time we have learned how to extract much more from a ton of coal, both as energy and chemical by-products. Formerly it was assumed that 70 per cent of the oil in a pool was unrecov- erable, and so it was in that state of technical knowledge; now we know how greatly to increase the recovery, either by conserving the original gas pressure or renewing it when it fails, and so the potential life of every ex- isting pool is extended. Much more to the prejudice of the movement, however, was that it sug- gested the thought of hoarding. Peo- ple were still at that time, the elders especially, under the tyranny of very old copybook notions touching thrift and self-denial as mora] and economic virtues. Hoarding is not an American principle. Nor is the fear that makes a virtue of it a proper American emo- tion. Safe living was something we had never practiced; nevertheless, (Continued on Page 208) rs aS | PHOTO. BY W. 1. HUTCHINGON, COURTESY U.S. FOREST SERVICE Forest Destruction Has Created Millions of Acres of Idle Land Unsuited to Agriculture Because of Poor Soil or Rough Topography. At Right—Robbed of its Vegetative Cover the Soil is Exposed to Destructive Erosion, Gullying Sets PHOTO. OY ww. ABHE “res &. FOREST CeevKCE In and the Fertile Top Soil is Washed From the Stopes. Above ~ The Famous Thompson Gusher at Corsicana, Texas, and Part of the Six-Acre Lake of OU Which Spurted From the Well After the Tanks Were Filled

Page 12

THE |: RECOUNTING to you the somewhat odd matter in which I became involved with Mr. Richard Royall. I only hope you won't think I'm presuming and familiar. I know my place, and that is something nowadays. Now THE SATURDAY EVENING POST RKEST By John P. cece oper ILLUSTRA TEDO Br H#. MOWAT May 25,1929 course, who made him do it, but I never knew a girl who could make me do a thing like that. Well, I don’t know how it happened, but Mr. Richard always gets what he sets out for. I re- member when his automobile came and again I say to myself, ‘‘Jerry Hobbs,”” I have to say, “you can ride with the ladies and gentlemen, but you're a groom as sure as your father was, Jerry, and be- ng Mr. Richard’s buddy in the war doesn’t hardly set you up for nothing better.” If Mr. Richard is a friend of mine, I cannot very well help it, if you was to ask me. I’m simply Mr. Rich- ard’s head groom, and if I know horses better than Mr. Richard, that is what I call Life, I do. Some know horses and some don’t. That’s what I said to Mr. Richard ten years ago, counting back. He had me to one of those places they call estaminets over to France. I was rather looking after Mr. Richard, for sometimes those days he was that way. “Jerry,” he said, “will you have a drink?” “No, thank you, Dick,” I said. I'm not using the word to seem familiar, as I do hope you will understand. “No,” I said. “‘I neither drink nor smoke.” ** Jerry,’ said Mr. Richard,“ hang me if you aren’t the world’s worst prig.” “My business is horses,”” I said. ‘And I don’t drink buzzing up to where I was watching the boys soaping the saddies at Mr. De- Lancey’s stables, where I was work- ing then, and there was Mr. Richard beside a chauffeur as new and trim as the car itself. And Mr. Richard com- menced to laugh when he saw me start. You know he’s got a nice laugh, Mr. Richard has. I hadn’t seen him for years then and I never knew he had been keep- ing track of me, the way it is in story- books. ‘‘Jerry,’’ said Mr. Richard, “here I am, and I’ve got the stable and you’re the boy to runit. I’ve bought the whole Mce- Williams place over at Mountain Pond.”’ “All right!” I said. ‘“‘I’ll run it, but it’s true what I said: You'll never know horses; you're not the kind who does.”” I was right. There are some who know them and some who don’t. I was thinking of it when Mr. Richard came and climbed up on his best hunter as though he was climbing up a ladder. Yes, sir, you could see he didn’t like ‘em. I don’t know how you see things like that, sir, but if you’ve been brought wp around or smoke.” “No,” says Mr. Richard, ‘‘you wouldn't. Don't you ever get discontented? Don’t you ever have ambition?’ “I'm not educated like you are. I know my place,” I said. “And you're happy,” said Mr. Richard. “‘That’s what I can’t make out. But you listen to me, Jerry. They haven't heard from me yet.” “T wouldn't make any more noise,” I said, “ body will.” ‘And what do I care if they do!” yells Mr. Richard, the way he gets, gentlemen, when he gets started. “‘Let 'em listen. But you mark what I say. I haven't got a red cent, or influence either, but when I get back to the States I’m going to make my pile. I'll have my own stables and hunt- ers and polo ponies before I’m thirty-five. And you'll be looking after ‘em, Jerry. You mark my words.” I could believe what he said; for nothing could stop that baby if he wanted to do a thing. He would just be hell- bent for it, if you will pardon the expression. And of course or every- ‘*¥es,"' Said Mr. Richard, ‘That's Why I'm Here. I'm Taking a Shot at the Moon"’ he had education and of course he was a gentleman and in the Social Register, if he hadn’t any money— different from me as anybody could be in all sorts of ways. We were sit- ting at a little table in just the same uniforms—buck privates in the rear rank—as they used to put it, but even then his uniform was different, smarter, with more of a dash to it. His people were bang-up people, no worry about that. “There’s some meant for some things and others for others, but there’s one thing, Dick,” I said to him: ‘You may get a stable full of horses, but you'll never know horses. You're not the kind who ever will, Dick,” I says to him. It’s odd, it is, how little you think of things at one time, and then they come up at you as the ground does when you take a fall. Mr. Richard was always talking wild back in those days. I never thought back then that Mr. Richard might go over all the jumps in a crowded field exactly as he said, and end up with money and cars and ponies, as gen- tlemen do who have been born to them. It was a girl, of the stable you can tell, and you'd be surprised how fast the horses tell it too. ' It’s all written in how they curve their noses and bend their ears, like fine ladies and os fine gentlemen. They are like what they call “toffs” i the old country, horses are. I remember thinking of it when he came down to the stables on the morning of which I am trying to tell. He came down the drive from the house in London breeches and custom boots, perfectly brand-new, with that quick, swinging walk of his—his feet going pat-pat on the gravel. Mr. Richard looked a bit heavier than he used to when we were in the army, and his face showed what he’d been through, but he had the same way of grinning, as though him and me were just the same. You couldn’t help lik- ing Mr. Richard; at least I never could. “Hi, Jerry,” he said. “‘Are you all ready?” “Yes, sir,” I told him. Mr. Richard took off his coat. “I wish to goodness,” he said, “‘you’d cut out the ‘sir’ stuff. Now, about this riding—how long does it take to learn?”

Page 13

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST il “Some people never do learn, sir,” I told him. “My boy,” said Mr. Richard, “anybody can learn any- thing, if they put a mind to it. Why, I could tell you—but never mind. Unfortunately, I’ve got to learn it for per- sonal reasons, and I've set aside the whole day for it. In the first place, I want to learn jumping.” Mr. Richard tossed his coat on the ground. He was al- ways careless that way about his clothes, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was in Mr. Richard’s mind. I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d bought the McWilliams farm out at Mountain Pond. He wasn’t the sort of man to put on what you might call “‘lugs,’”” Mr. Richard wasn’t, and he wasn’t like anybody else for miles around. Out at Mountain Pond all anyone ever thought of was riding and the like of that, and anyone who didn’t savvy horses didn't go for anything at all. Yet there was Mr. Richard, who didn’t know a curb from a cannon bone or a bit from a blister, trying to be something that he wasn’t. It made you wonder what had got into Mr. Richard to make him do it. “Look you, Mr. Richard,” I said. ‘You can’t learn jumping in a day; not by a lot you can’t. Look at me, sir; I began jumping at the Courtneys’ stables when I was ten, sir. And I rode in open steeplechases when I was thirteen, until I got too heavy, and I don’t know jump- ing yet.” “You wouldn’t,” said Mr. Richard, and he grinned at me and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “‘ But here’s a boy who has to learn it. Bring out that plug you bought me, Jerry. We've got to get this over with.” That was what he said—he had to get it over with. He didn’t like it a bit, you see, and once he got up in the saddle you could tell he didn’t like it, and Sir Hubert— that was his hunter, you understand—he didn’t like it either. Sir Hubert, that I’d bought for him myself, was as sweet and even a sixteen-hander as you could ever hope to ride, but he put back his ears when Mr. Richard got on ” him, and wrinkled up his nose. Mr. Richard gave a laugh something the way a kid laughs in school. “Gerald,” he said, ‘‘I do feel funny up here and it looks a long way down.” “That’s what I told you,” I said. “You don’t know horses.”” “And just between you and me,” said Mr. Richard, “I wouldn't mind if I never knew them, if circumstances were not driving me, Do you know what I’ve got to do to- morrow? I’ve been asked to ride at a drag hunt at the Triple Oak Club, Jerry. And you know what that means.” I knew what it meant considerably better than Mr. Richard. The ladies and gentlemen at Mountain Pond were all hard riders. “You can’t do it, sir,” I told him; “never in this world.” And then it made me almost angry, because he com- menced to laugh. “‘ You don’t know everything,” I told him, “just because you’ve made a pile of jack.” “Stow it!” said Mr. Richard. “I have to do it for per- sonal reasons. Now, iet’s get on.” There wasn’t much to do when a gentleman had his mind made up like that. “Will you stop just standing and looking?” said Mr. Richard. “‘What do I do now?” “If I were you, sir,” I suggested, “I should gather up the reins a trifle.” “You're not me,” said Mr. Richard, “‘and you can jolly well congratulate yourself. Suppose I do gather up the reins—then what?” “You must not be stiff, sir,”” I toid him. “Gerald,”’ said Mr. Richard, “I know you know how to do it. There’s always an easy, simple way to do every- thing, isn’t there, Gerald? Now I want to make the horse jump over that brush in the yard.” “You wish him to take it, you mean, sir?”’ I said. “All right!” said Mr. Richard. “I want the horse to take it and at the same time remain on him. Now what do I do?” “He'll go over it all right,” I said. “Just head him to- ward it. Gather the reins and give him a bit of a flick with the crop perhaps, sir. And then do as I told you. Dig in your knees and let your back go loose.”’ “Gerald,” said Mr. Richard, “did you ever squeeze an orange seed?”’ “No, sir,” I said. Mr. Richard had his odd ways about him, and his little jokes. “Well,” said Mr. Richard, “if you squeeze an orange seed it pops out between your thumb and finger. Now, if I start squeezing this saddle I shall pop straight up in the air. What’s your answer to that?” “I’m sure I don't know, sir,” I said. “‘If you'll just keep the upper part of the body relaxed as much as possible “i “Oh, well,” said Mr. Richard. “All right, here goes!" Sir Hubert, that hunter, was perfectly schooled, as steady as a clock, one might say, and, if we come down to anything as vulgar as figures, had cost Mr. Richard a pretty penny. Though the horse was steady, he seemed more nervous than Mr. Richard. He began pawing and tossing his head. “You're holding him too tightly, sir,”” I said “Gerald,” said Mr. Richard, “that’s enough. If I’ve got to ride in this drag-hunt thing tomorrow, I suppose I'd better start. Get along, you old plug.” And Mr. Richard hit Sir Hubert a smart one with the crop. I’ve always noticed that gentle people's horses act like gen- tlemen——thin-skinned that way. Sir Hubert gave a start which unsettled Mr. Richard first off and went straight at the brush. It was a low jump, of course—-not more than two-feet-six. Sir Hubert took it handily, and what I expected immediately occurred. Mr. Richard went shooting forward and off, letting go of the reins. Mr. Rich- ard was a somewhat shocking sight, for the grass was fresh and tender. When I reached him he was al! over green and brown from his cheek to his toes, and his wind ‘was quite knocked out. In fact, he had great difficulty speaking. (Continued on Page 124 - a ee sole “And, Jerry, Teli Her I Busted Something or I'd be There Myseif"’

Page 14

i2 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PURITA May 25, 192¢ HE pale ray of the searchlight raking the sky beneath the moon caught the tip of the night mai! for Chicago droning west three thousand feet above our heads. Across the park, rubies, emer- alds and diamonds of flame coruscated, wheeled and perambu- lated against the twin- kling back drop of Broadway skyscrapers. Suspended in the more distant heavens shone the stained-glass win- dows of illuminated chapels marking the tur- rets of unseen buildings. Thirty-five stories below us, through festooned canyons, darted black schools of leaping dol- phins released by the traffic towers’ automatic signals. A powdery haze Arthur Train Hoover's going to make the dedication speech from Wash- ington. We might listen. I’ll try the tunnel first.” Distinct, as if just beside us, came the voice of the an- nouncer. “There she comes, folks! I can hear her whistle. First train through the tunnel. James J. Hill’s dream of a life- time realized! There she blows again! She’s coming on fast now. I’ll swing aboard as she flies by and talk to you from Scenic at the other end of the tunnel. So long, then, for a few minutes!” In that softly carpeted room we listened to the great train shrieking nearer and nearer until it thundered past the microphone in the bowels of the mountain three thou- sand miles away. My friend got up and turned the indicator. “Hoover won’t begin his spiel for another twenty min- utes,” hesaid. ‘‘Let’s try Havana. There’s a band concert down there in the Piazza. Some Spanish-American song bird is going to sing Carmen.” An Easy Victim for Broadway NSTANTLY, clear as a bell from over the moonlit waves of the Caribbean, came to us the tantalizing syncopa- tions of the tarantella. “T’'lltry Washington now,” heremarked, turning theknob. “Er—er ” rasped an oracular voice—not that of the President-elect. ‘Beyond question the world has made greater progress in the last seventy-five years than during the entire span of human life before the Civil War. Think of it, folks—the telephone, the automobile, the radio, the submarine, the aeroplane! The North Pole and the Antarctic both conquered. Comfort and luxury in every home. Imagine how surprised one of the old Puritans would be if he ——”’ My friend shut him off abruptly. “Enough of that! . Let’s try WJZ. They might be having some good jazz.” “Hold on!” I protested. “‘I’d have liked to hear what that chap was going to say. I’m not sure, when you come right down to it, whether all these things are so conclusive as to progress.” My friend regarded me humorously. “You don’t question that we have made progress, do you? Did you read how The New York Times the other evening radioed 13,000 miles to Byrd in the Antarctic to ask him to radio 13,000 miles back to tell their operator in Astoria, only three miles away, to hang up his receiver so they could speak to him—and got him in two minutes? ‘Byrd says you want to talk to me!’ Or, for that matter, just look out the window!” “I don’t want to look out the window,” I retorted, for the voice on the air had set me thinking. ‘‘That fellow down in the Department of Commerce, or wherever he was, started to ask if one of the Puritans happened to turn up on Broadway, what he’d think of it. That’s easy. It would knock him flat! What I'd like to know is whether, if we could go back to the old days—-of a hundred years ago, say—and get a little used to things as they were then, we'd find we got any more out of life than we do now—or as much. Maybe you didn’t know it, but I’m a Puritan myself.” of party-colored light dimmed that of the moon gazing down upon the proud, preposterous, in- credible city with its hanging gardens of tinted fire. High over all, the white beam wavered anxiously up and down, slanting hither and yon, searching the stars—for what? “‘ Magnificent,”” murmured my friend with a touch of awe. ** And terrifying!” I breathed. We turned from the balcony and stepped inside his luxuriously furnished bachelor apartment. Throwing myself into the recesses of a leathern armchair, I gazed at the walls covered with prints and tapestries. cord, Where She Wrote ‘‘Little Women" Hark! From the Tunnel —— \ THO would have thought, when I used to kick you around at St. Paul’s, that you’d ever be making a hundred thousand a year!” I remarked. “That's not so hot! There are two hundred and eighty-three men in the United States who have an income of more than a million a year!” he laughed, snapping on the radio. “The Great Northern has just opened its new tunnel! through the Cascade Range. There’s a nation-wide hook-up. Schumann-Heink is going to sing The Star-Spangled Banner from San Francisco after the train goes through, and Sunday Morning in Shrewsbury, Massachusetts. Above—The Home of Louisa May Alcott, in Con: PHOTOS. FROM KEYSTONE VIEW COMPANY The Eames House, at Framingham, Which Dates Back to the Time of the American Revolution ee ——___- = Oa

Page 15

— — , i THE “Are you?” he laughed, glancing at the glass in my hand. ‘You look it!” “Well, I am—by inheritance, at least,” I answered with a sudden resolve. “I'll tell you what I’m going to do: To- morrow—Sunday—I’m going to motor up to Massa- chusetts and give the old town my folks came from the once-over. It'll be a pleasant run. I’d just like to see. Why not come along?” He shook his head. “Thanks. Motoring bores me sick,” he answered. “I'd rather sit here and listen in on a good prize fight.” The Old Home Town in Modern Dress HAT is how the Puritan came to revisit the home of his ancestors the following afternoon. More especially, he was looking for his grandfather’s meetinghouse—the old- fashioned, white, wooden meetinghouse with narrow green blinds and tall thin spire, set in the grove of elms, where his grandfather had preached more than a century ago. He had seen the old church once before, when he was a little boy, on a visit with his father to Framingham in 1881, and the impression made upon his childish mind SATURDAY EVENING POST = = * . i 1. “at by its serenity and grace had never faded. There had been other Lk © aah churches in his life—-the massive stone Doric temple, with its ry ve high-backed pews and _ sour- smelling green cushions, on Tre- mont Street, in Boston, which he had attended as a child; the sa baroque Romanesque structure of fireproof brick and porphyry on Madison Avenue in New York City in which he had been married, and divers other rococo ecclesiastical edifices in various localities, where his children had been baptized. Yet, save for the cathedrals of Chartres and Rheims, no temple built by A human hands had ever so fl touched his spiritual emotions ; as the simple neoclassic country - meetinghouse from whose pulpit his grandfather had preached, > and to which, according to _ it i FROM BALLOU"S PICTOMIAL DRABING ROOW COMPAMON, 1 Ain Evening Scene at the Skating Park in Beston Framingham? This busy square = with its traffic cop, its taxi - stand, its garages, lunch coun- ters, barber, cigar and candy shops? Where were the tavern and the brick bank? Where the old harness shop over which had hung the sign of Hollis Has- 7 tings, harness maker, who, as his ij father had often told him, had advertised: “‘Carryalls, Riding s) Saddles, Surcingles, Bridles, and Martingales E hand or made to order at short notice”? There was nothing rec- , ognizable left of the old town! ae The glacier of time had ruth- a fi } Pew ‘ “ushions on ssly ground it all away { Yet—like the Nantucket Ran, skipper in James T. Field's poem who, when usked to “‘ taste the lead” whict one of the crew had covertly rubbed over the FROM BALL . of his era, he had run clean past what he was look- ing for! That he should not have recognized the abiding place of his forefathers might be regarded as excusable, since it was forty-five years since he had been there, and traveling at fifty miles an hour one tended to miss things meetinghouses with white stee- ples. Mere speed, it appeared, might even FROM “OUR COUNTRY '* Public Worship by the Piigrims at Plymouth veridical tradition, Phillips Brooks had made an annual pilgrimage throughout his lifetime to refresh his sou! in the sight of its pure beauty. Our Puritan was on a not dissimilar errand. That casual conversation at the Savoy-Plaza the evening before had fired his mind with a curiosity, tinged with a shadow of misgiving, to find out, if he cculd, just what that so-called progress had meant to him and to his. So, despite his family’s original hereditary inhibition against Sunday travel, he had set forth by motor at nine o’clock next morn- ing to make in six hours a journey which would have taken his grandfather a number of days, had lunched com- fortably at Springfield, and now, at four o’clock in the late spring afternoon, was, for the moment, lost. Characteristic actually be on oc- casion a disadvan- tage. He had vaguely recalled the town as a cluster of low wooden buildings—a blacksmith shop, a tavern, a few high- stooped stores and a brick bank—at the turn of a narrow, dusty road beside an embowered common the tops of whose fanlike elms were pierced by several spires. To his memory it had been as sleepy as Sleepy Hollow itself. Now, in place of the winding, uneven country road, there lay a smooth ribbon of level concrete over which motors were humming in continuous streams in both directions A signpost showed that he had overrun his destination by six miles, so he waited for a hiatus in the line of whizzing cars and turned back. A few minutes later and, beyond a curve in the highway, the strident blues and scarlets of a cluster of filling stations caught his eye. Could this be RIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPAN A New Engian earth in a box of parsnips stand- d Fireside ing on deck, instantly ex- claimed: “‘Nantucket’s sunk! And here we are, right over old Me'am Hackett's gar- den!’’—the Puritan sniffed the air and sensed that he was upon or near the spot where his ancestors had dwelt Something in his subconscious mind responded to things of which his senses were wholly unaware. Was there some subtle kinship between himself and these tanned youths who manned the gasoline pumps, or those other swarthier ones who were vending “‘eats”’ to the waiting motorists doughnuts, ginger ale, hot franks, cider and ice-cream cones? No, these last, at any rate, were not natives of Framingham, but of Italy or of Polar Ask One of the Natives “(NAN you tell me if there's an old church--a Baptist meetinghouse—around here?” he asked of a natty motorcycle cop in khaki who was ordering the trafi “Better ask one of them fellers!"’ The officer waved to ward the filling station. “‘I'm from Worcester The uniformed attendant at the nearest red sentine jerked his thumb down the road “Church? Sure! Go along and you'l! see it ail right The common’! be down to your le ft No, Id t belong here. I just run the station. I come from W ocket.”” The Puritan left him making change for a man with a car bearing a Florida license and containing a woman, three children, an Airedale terrier and a comp!eté mping outfit “Why, it'll bea cinch to make Portsmouth tonight! Only eighty miles, ain’t it?” the driver was saying. “Sure I come from Florida— Miami. Say, brother, that’s the only place to live! If you want to make a wad of n ~ The clang of an overladen trolley to whose running boards and steps a holiday-making crow hands was clinging like a swarm of bee sion of his panegyri The gorge of the Puritan——trar Tshoot of the parent stem, as he was —rose in | Inured to the Continued on Page 197)

Page 16

eet wv anf “I'm Telling You. Leave Her Alone. Don't Hang Around Her Any More"’ Dade and Bruno Banalian entered the Dairy. This was an establishment devoted to the dance. The nov- elty of its conception had made it instantly successful, and it was just now in the full tide of that success; so that the orchestra whined and sobbed its disjointed melodies till the small hours of the morning, while a flushed, close- packed press of dancers moved at a weary shuffle around the restricted floor. Luke Doe, who in the costume of a rustic clowned nightly on the Winter Garden stage, conceived the idea. The place had been a cellar, but now it was transformed. The floors were spotless white tile; there was a rank of cream separators, all red and silver, along one side of the room; and beneath them rows of milk cans gleamed in the shaded light. Behind a plate-glass panel which extended across the rear wall, half a dozen Jersey cows in an au- thentic tie-up, their necks held in nickeled staves, chewed their cuds and surveyed the dancers with calm and con- templative eyes. Even the menu continued the illusion; and frequenters of the place liked to boast about the richness of the cream served here, the delicious flavor of the butter, the fragrance of warm milk fresh from the cow, and the acid tang of real buttermilk drawn from a huge wooden churn. Luke Doe himself was accustomed to appear here in his costume of a farmer, as soon as his Winter Garden turn was over. He greeted his guests, he presided over the merry- making, and he introduced the performers who at intervals offered entertainment. Tonight when Tony Dade and his companion arrived, they stopped to speak to him at the door. This Tony Dade was a youngster from some small mill town on the Connecticut, above Springfield; a tall, fair, smiling boy who made friends easily. There was some- where in his background a mill which he had inherited from his father, which seemed to run itself, and profitably. Banalian, his companion, was one of those wise young men to be seen at any hour or at all hours along Forty-second Street, achieving no particular success despite their wis- dom. He had been for some weeks engaged in showing Tony the town—at Tony’s expense, of course, and on a basis made more profitable by certain secret arrangements of his own. Tony felt for Bruno that deference wisdom inspires in those who would be wise. Bruno knew everyone, and he was likely to point out this man or that one, with a whispered identification. Tony stared goggle-eyed at I: WAS toward one o'clock in the morning when Tony THE SATURDAY EVENING POST actors, gangsters, boxers, touts; and he was properly impressed with them, and with Bruno, who seemed to know them all. Now and then Banalian went farther, performing actual introductions. The individuals with whom Tony thus be- came acquainted wore a sophistication which made him conscious of his own lack of this quality, but under Bruno’s instructions, he tried to ape them. He learned to drink cer- tain mixtures with deceptive names, which, though they produced at the moment a definite exhilaration, had the trick of making his mornings hideous. He learned to pay a twenty-dollar check with a fifty-dollar bill and ignore the change, and he learned to derive a complacent satisfaction from wasting money, even though he had never earned a dollar in his life. In the course of six weeks of this tuition, he be- came familiar with the surface aspects of the world into which Bruno intreduced him, and Banalian would have been glad to extend his instruction even further. But there was a cleanly diffidence in Tony which made him decline these suggestions. So when the boy began to insist that they return night after night to the Dairy, Banalian did not suspect the explanation of this preference. Rather, he thought derisively that Tony was attracted by the rustic atmosphere. “The sap’s homesick,” he told someone one day. “‘He’s ripe to go back to the farm. First thing I know, he’ll be hitting the trail for home and the corn-feds.”’ “And bang! goes your meal ticket,” his confidant commented. “Well, I can get through the winter on what I’ve laid by already,” Bruno cheerfully replied. He had in fact become careless with success, but tonight not even his complacency could be wholly blind. They came into the Dairy a little before one, and Bruno stopped to talk with Luke Doe while Tony went on alone to sit down at their regular table. Luke left Bruno long enough to step out on the dance floor and introduce the next enter- tainer. “Eleanor Andris,”’ he told the crowded tables smilingly. “‘Just one of our dairymaids, but she’s trying to get along! I told her she could come out here as soon as she had her milking done.” Then he returned to Banalian, while a girl in a gingham frock, with a sunbonnet hanging by its ribbons down her back, came trudging out of the tie-up with a neck yoke across her shoulders and a brimming pail of milk dangling at each end. May 25,1929 LLIT NOT IN GATH By Bem Almes Williams ILLUSTRATED BY R. M. CROSBY She set the pails down, smiled, and began to dance; and silence, save for the provocative crooning of the orchestra, rewarded her. Hers was no set dance of the sort taught at the acade- mies; her shoes were soft; they caressed the tiles with a shuffling stroke. Yet there was a perfection in her rhythm, so that it was as though her steps evoked the beat from the instruments, rather than followed them. Also, the girl herself had a freshness and charm not at all unsuited to the réle she played. She smiled when she chose, not pro- vocatively but with a cheerful friendliness; she danced till her hair began to fly, and when she would have stopped and the applause rose clamorously, she danced again. Bruno and Luther Doe watched her from the door; and Bruno said appraisingly: “‘She’s there, that kid!” “‘She’s good,” Luke agreed. “Tony fell for her the other night,” Bruno remarked. “After she danced with him, he was dizzy.” “He came back here last night, and the night before,” the other assented. ‘‘By himself. I wondered how he got away from you.” His tone was not a friendly one. Bruno’s eyes widened in a wary indignation. ‘Say! The big hick told me he was going bye-bye!” “Well, he was here,’’ Doe insisted. He disliked Banal- ian. But Bruno was immune from dislike. Just now his thoughts were canvassing the possibilities of profit in this situation, so surprisingly revealed. “What kind of a girl is she?”’ he asked. “Who? Nell? She's straight,’’ Luke told him curtly “A good kid!” "She's There, That Kid!’*

Page 17

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1S “Yeah!” Bruno’s tone was wise. “T’m telling you,” Doe retorted. “Well, I didn’t say a word, did I?” Bruno apologized. The girl’s encore ended; the applause rose and died, and the orchestra began a dance tune. The floor filled with dancers; and young Tony Dade leaped to his feet, to thread his way toward where the pretty dairymaid was listening politely to some word of bibulous approval. Bruno saw Tony overtake her, saw her eyes light with welcome. A moment later the two began to dance together. And Bruno licked his lips. He turned to speak to Luke again, but a newcomer, a harmless-looking little man, had just come in and caught Doe’s attention. So Bruno left them together and crossed to the table which Tony had abandoned. He filled his glass there, and Tony’s, and then he waited, watching Tony and the girl as they moved slowly through the press of dancers on the floor. He noticed once that Luke and the harmless little man were also watching them. Tony and the girl danced once around without speaking. They had no need to mind their steps. The music had its way with them. But there had been between them from their first encounter that which halted speech. It was minutes tonight before Tony asked at last: “Eleanor Andris really your name?” “My professional name,” the girl explained, laughing up at tall young Tony Dade. “Like it? I think it sounds fine!”’ “I like Nell better,” Tony retorted. ‘What's the rest of it? The real one?” “‘ Andrews, of course.” “Nell Andrews, eh?’’ He chuckled. “I have an uncle named Andrews. That makes us cousins, doesn’t it?”’ ‘Where does he live?”’ she asked. “Little town named Madison, up in Massachusetts,” he told her. “‘Nothing there but some mills along the river.” And he had to explain what river he meant. “Ts it full of garbage?”’ she wondered. He shook his head. ‘‘ This is up above Springfield. No. Good clean water.” “I never saw a clean river,” she confessed. “I didn’t know they came that way.” And after a moment, wist- fully: ‘“‘What makes you stay down here?” “We ‘on’t have girls like you up there,” he assured her. He was pleased with his retort; felt very much a man of the world. “Nor we don’t have boys like you down here,” she countered. ‘Or at least, they don’t stay that way long. Bruno Saw Tony Overtake Her, Saw Her Eyes Light With Weicome When are you going back?” “T like it down here.” “I'd like it ux there,”’ she guessed. “Tf I belonged there, the way you do.” “Oh, I was brought up there,’’ he ex- plained carelessly. “You get sick of it.” She was silent while they circled half the floor. “‘ You get sick of this, too,” she said at last. “You?” he pro- tested laughingly. “*T guess not. You're awow! On the crest of the wave.” “But you go down- hill from the crest,” she reminded him. “You can go on the stage any time you want,” he in- sisted. “You've got all the stuff in the world!” She shook her head; he felt it move in a gesture of nega- tion against his shoulder. ‘‘Five years of it,” she amended. “Or ten, and then where are you? Notevena baby toshow for it.” “Why not?” Tony challenged, and col- ored to his ears. “‘Can’t have a figure and babies, too,” she reminded him. “A dancer’s as badly off as a jockey. Got to keep in shape all the time, even if she starves.”’ “T bet you don’t have to diet!” “T meant, starves for other things.” He was uncomfortably silent, asked at last, curiously: “How old are you?”’ “Twenty-two,” she said, and looked eighteen. He told her so, and she did protest too much. pink "Go Find Her, Kid,” He Said Grimty. “‘And Go Straight!"* Silence again for a little, and in him a deep curiosity was stirring. “‘You brought up in New York, were you?” ee “You don’t talk like some of them.” “T went to school till last June.” “What does your father do?” “My folks have been dead fifteen years. A—friend paid for the school, and so on.” He nodded, grinning, curiously hurt and wounded. “A friend, eh?” he echoed dryly. And at his tone, she looked up at him with a quick glance; she cried in soft, reproachful disappointment: “Oh, Tony, boy, don’t be so wise!" But before he could speak, the music stopped. He would have had an en- core, but while he was applauding she slipped away from him. She was gone before he knew. He took one step after her, ful! of a quick, regretful shame. But she dis- appeared toward her dressing room, and he stopped uncertainly, swung at last back toward his table. He saw Bruno there, and his step lagged. He was suddenly reluctant to talk to Bruno. But Banalian saved him the trouble. As Tony reached the table, the other rose, made some excuse. “ Back in a minute,” he promised, and strolled away across the floor Tony nodded and sat down, his head a little bowed, staring thoughtfully at the tall glass in the circle of his fin- gers. But after a moment he lifted his head in a slow, resentful surprise. A harmless-looking young man with a meek eye had taken Bruno’s chair, across the table from Tony. He was watching Tony now. Tony had never seen the man before, but he appeared to be an inoffensive individual. So after a moment, Tony smiled. ’ Tony smiled, and the harmless lit- tle man nodded in acknowledgment. Then he cleared his throat faintly; and without taking his eyes from Tony's, he nodded sidewise toward the open space among the tables. (Continued on Page IS!)

Page 18

APTAIN ARAD WHITNEY, in the ship Water Witch, Salem y, to Canton, China, encountered a pilot boat near Lin Tin, where the opium hulks were chored. By the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By Richard Matthews Hallet TLELVUSTRATEDO Br ANTON ray light of a louded moon he uw the pilot in a £ the stern of his little egg-shaped boat with a mat sail—a bigmanin blue pantaloons, with a pigtail reaching to his heel The year was in the early 40's “How much to Whampos?’’ Captain Arad shouted. Wham- poa was the an- chorage in the river twelve miles below Canton. “Olo flen’ maskee-—-hun- died dollah welly cheap. Stlong tide catchee big locks Canton side.” The old friend turned a cold cheek. “‘No can do a “Yes, can do. Hiyah olofox ten dollah can do, Missee Cap'n. Catchee Canton tomollo morn- ng.” The pilot laughed, pulled off pigtail, scalp and all, and Cap- AVA oTTO F May 25,1929 back creeks and inlets like the inside of my hand. It’s a delicate trade, with the Boca Tigris jammed with war junks and a chain of rafts loaded with soldiers stretched right across the river from fort to fort. There'll be no trouble, though, about you going up the river. They’ ve got an opening in the boom for noncon- testant ships. You sign a bond that you’ve neither opium, women nor. gunpowder aboard; you, of course, agreeing that the penalties are to be carried out by Chinese methods.” O’Cain grinned and drew the edge of his hand against his throat. ‘‘Neither opium, gunpow- der nor women,” Arad repeated slowly. “‘There’s the hitch, Mike. I've got a woman aboard.”’ ‘*‘You’re a changed man from what you were, Arad,” says Michael, with the end of his pigtail in his mouth. “A China- woman. Lan Fong, the daugii- ter of the old mer- ISCH ER tain Arad saw the flaming crest and the blue Jrish eves of his old shipmate, Captain Michael O’Cain. The two friends shook hands vigorously on the Witch's quarter-deck. “A good passage?” says Michael, fitting back his pigtail and squinting his charcoaled eye corners. “A narrow squeak of it over the Bombay shoals,” Captain Arad answered with a shrug of his big mahogany- colored shoulders. “She slid over the peak of a reef and she’s got a lump of coral as big as a house jammed into her keel now.” The clank of a pump at the mainmast and the hiss of water in the scuppers bore him out. “What's in her hold?” “Valparaiso copper and a quarter of a million of Salem specie in kegs.” “Man dear,” cried Michael, “ you'll not be wanting that coral to drop out of her short of the dockyard at Whampoa. You've ne opium?” Not a ball.” “Maybe then they'll pass you through the rafts at the Jogue, and maybe again they won't.” “The rafts?” ““Man, hadn't you heard? There’s war between the British and the Chinese, and it was Michael O’Cain, an American citizen, bad cess to him, that brought it on. The old Chinese commissioner, Lin, ordered all opium in China waters to be delivered up; and so it was—twenty thousand chests of it, I hear. Then down they sit, writing out peace proposals on both sides; and me coming in at that time in the Psyche from Singapore loaded to the rails with opium. Better I'd stayed on the Skibbereen coast moking Dublin twist, Arad.” ‘I’ve told you that.” ““When did ever I value a friend for his advice? And what's the Fourth of July for, if not to be shooting fire- rackers and drinking a little rice wine for the stomach’s A Moment Later, Sitting in the Stern Sheets of His Jolly:Boat, He Looked Hard Across the Water at His Ship. Even Since Sunrise She Had Got Lower in the Water sake. It was on that blessed day that I went ashore at Lanteek for my devotions at the temple of the silver moon. And I swear to you, Arad, I would have done no worse, drunk or sober, than light my cigar at the Holy Fire, hadn't I glimpsed out of the tail of my eye the big Josh there holding a cold cannon ball in his fist. "Twas the ball of tranquillity, I'll have ye know; ’twas a chance shot that had gone through the wall of the temple in a scrim- mage with the Portuguese when they were getting their toe hold at Macao. The priests saw it roll up to the feet of the Josh, and they got it into their heads that the fat beggar had stopped it by grinning at it. Sure, the silly pink smile of him was a foot wide, carpenter’s measure- ment, as Michael O’Cain will testify. The priests put the cannon ball into the Josh’s fist, and they told their flock it would be a bad day, and plenty men spoiled, if anyone knocked it off. So, Arad, didn’t I knock it off?” “And what happened?” “Man dear, the yellow devils were right. No sooner the cannon ball was on the floor than didn’t a gang of sailors, British and American, turn to and wreck the temple. They split open the ugly mugs of the little Joshes, and their fat bellies as well, to get at the gold brains and silver livers of ’em. The Chinese objected and one China- man was killed. That was the finish of the peace pro- posals. And when I got back to my ship it wasn’t there; the mandarins had confiscated ship, opium and all, for some offense of mine against the regulations, but all the time, mind you, they hadn’t a shred of evidence against me.” “And why did you turn Chinaman yourself?” “A man with my reputation for running opium would never be without a job. The second captain of an opium runner—a fast crab or scrambling dragon, they call the craft—came to me to be first captain; me knowing all the chant, Man Ho, at Canton. She gave him the slip, and went to sea in an English ship, and got exhibited in London as one of the small-footed women of China. It didn’t pay, but she got money enough to get her back to Singapore. I found her there and she begged me to take her to her father. Chut, here she is now.” There she was, poor Golden Lily, swaying on her crippled feet, no bigger than a newborn colt’s, and the shadow from the spanker boom falling on her white face. She was in a toga-throated, black-and-yellow silk jacket and yellow pantaloons, with a bird of silver filigree from Sumatra trembling in her black hair, and gold bands at wrists and ankles. She swung her legs from the hip, with no action at knee and ankle; and the white lily fixed at her right temple nodded to the pretty, slant motion. “‘She’s dainty as a porcelain flower from the garden of a mandarin,” said the great Michael under his breath, and let his pigtail fall. “This is a complication to the prob- lem. . . . Come here, Silver Wing. Ay, she’s sweeter than the rose-encumbered June, as the Chinese poet says. Look you, I’ve half a mind to put you in my pocket now. Don’t you be making saucy motions with your fan. Glory be, how did the likes of her survive the Chinese gangs at Singapore, and she with no protector?” “She has an old servant— Loo Seng. come here.” The old Chinaman’s face was sparrow-sharp, his head sunk dovelike between bony shoulders, and there was neither blood nor fat beneath his yellow parchment skin. Opium had taken its toll of him long years ago. “T am an old man—a candle in the wind,” he said in the Canton dialect, knocking the immense wooden soles of his shoes on the white pine deck. “Do you be keeping out of drafts then,” said Michael O’Cain. ‘“ Remember the saying of Confucius that the tall Loo Seng,

Page 19

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 17 tree falls first, and that’s like to be me, if there’s anything in signs and omens. It’s the clearest well that dries soonest, because that’s where the buckets will be clustered thick. Which reminds me, Arad, that the commissioner, Lin, has poisoned all the wells ashore; so do you not be in a hurry to fill your casks out of them. Send Silver Wing below decks, captain, while I talk to you. — Loo Seng, didn’t they break down the typhoon bars to the house doors in Singapore to get at her?” “He made wooden pattens in the shape of tiger paws and each night prowled round in the soft dirt outside the house, leaving tiger tracks.” Arad chuckled. “‘A man like that would do the emperor more good than some of the spalpeens he’s got around him now.”’ Looking close to see that Lan Fong had retired, O’Cain put his hand on Arad’s wrist: “‘Man Ho is not here.” ““Where is he, then?” “Elee. The cold country. Alla finishee,’”” Michae! said, shaking his hands with spread fingers. ‘“‘He’s bankrupt. He let some foreign devil have a full return cargo in ex- change for a shipful of quicksilver there wasn’t any market for. You know. ‘Spose no can pay. All light. Pay plenty dollah nex’ voyage, olo flen’.’ Only, by the powers, the old friend didn’t see fit to make another voyage.” Exile to Elee. A hard journey of months on broken- backed boats, through canals, over bad roads in villainous bamboo sedan chairs, on starveling pony back and afoot; and the end of it was, for Man Ho, to be a sweeper-out of cockroaches from the recesses of some gloomy cast iron pagoda in the north. Such was the fate of a merchant prince who trusted to the word of a barbarian. Michael O’Cain said in his bull-fiddle voice, and a sprung foremast and a staved keel, he didn’t want to come to grips. If he so much as fired off a twelve-pounder, he might jar that coral out of her and sink her, and the kegs of Salem specie with her. “Shall I run out a gun or two to show her spunk?” his mate said over his shoulder. “No. Back the main yard, Mr. Magoun,” he answered sharply. The junk was close aboard now, and Loo Seng, the fifth son of his father, clutched a paper umbrella under his arm and drew his breath in a polite hiss. The junk was im- mense and absurd, a giant likeness of a Chinese shoe, square in the prow, her crooked pole mast nothing but an ironwood tree with the bark peeled. An antediluvian rudder, pierced with holes, was hung by ropes in the yawning cavern at her stern, which took hold of the water like a claw. Her quarter gallery, where the bamboo board- ing pikes were lashed, was hung all round with horn lanterns that gave out dark scarlet gleams. A thousand yellow heads hung in that curious maze of ladders, gauze windows and thatched roofs. The junk seethed and sparkled with nameless hostile glints and flashes. Gongs sounded; there was a popping of firecrackers. The dragon’s head at her prow was furnished with an eye as round and baleful as a bull’s. The mandarin, seated in a scarlet armchair, was lowered into a small boat, and presently hoisted over the Witch's rail by the rattan-hatted lictors, who cried as with one voice: “‘Do not check the flow of Imperial Benevolence, but reverently obey his decrees! If not, the Son of Heaven will withdraw his compassion! Exert yourselves to avoid woe! Do not oppose!” The mandarin, with his moon face, was like a Chinese god descended from a cloud. He wore heavy glasses, and his mustache and scanty beard were elegantly dyed with Prussian blue. He had vermilion trickles of betel-nut juice at his mouth corners. A lark perched on his shoulder, attached to his finger by a silken cord. He was in a gown of blue gauze, drawn in at the waist with a and his conical hat of white braid had a tuft of shining scarlet hair rimson sash, At his side hung a scabbard with two swords, one for each hand, but the mandarin—a customs official was certainly too fat to fight with either “How fashion?” he inquired, taking a pipe out of his mouth and passing it to an attendant. The inquiry was directed to the luck of the voyage. “So fashion,”’ Captain Arad said. The mandarin dovetailed his fingers and knocked his locked fists against his chest, bowing slightly. He stuck out his right leg, and the linguist, or interpreter, kneeling, drew out of the red satin boot a bamboo tube wrapped in silk. From this fell a yellow rice paper on which the em- peror’s mandate had been written in the Vermilion Pencil which he alone, the Sole Ruler of the World, might employ The linguist read: A special edict. It is decreed that opium, the vile dust and dirt of India, shall no longer be received or amoked within the limits of the Middle Kingdom. To those who resist my com

mands, there shall be no escape from st gulatior Persist in the vice—and die, through the withdraw f Imperial Compas sion. Renounce —and live. Tremble at the penalty and flee the crime. Let all tremblingly obey. These are the commands Haste. Haste A special edict. Respect this So far the Vermilion Pencil. A clash of rattan shields followed, the linguist returned the edict to the tube and the tube to the boot. “It is ordered,”’ the mandarin

with a teasing light in his hair-trigger eye: “It'll go hard with the little lady if the mandarins get their talons on her. And they'll do it, Arad. You'll never smuggle her in. As well try to steal a woman's earrings by first shutting her ears. You'd better give the little Silver Wing into my keeping, to take away to Macao in the fast crab.” But Arad was thinking of Man Ho, the exile. He recalled the last feast Man Ho had spread for him: In- valuable bird’s-nest soup, the nests brought by Arad himself from the Straits; prepared sharks’ fins, roasted snails, rice wine. Sitting in the merchant’s tea garden, near a balus- trade of ivory, Man Hohad promised him a cargo of ink, rhubarb, shawls and lute strings, in exchange for his barbarian offering of fish maws, elephants’ teeth and furs. And now Man Ho was in Elee and his daughter Lan adrift without a friend in China. Arad flourished his arms. “*T’ll keep her by me for a day or two, Mike,” he said. “Yi yaw!” O’Cain cried disgustedly. ‘‘Ican’tstay to argue the point. Here comes a mandarin now that has no love for me at all, at all.” “Be neighborly!”’ Arad shouted after him. O’Cain had already vaulted the Witch’s straw- colored rail and was being sculled away in his wisp of a boat. Nodoubt that fast crab of which he was first captain was lurking some- where near. The mandarin’s junk

said, “that all barbarians coming to Whampoa shal! be under bond in the mat- ter of opium and women.” “Itis understood,” Cap- tain Arad said sternly, “that laws are made to be broken.” The mandarin fiddled uneasily with the chop- sticks in the fishskin case hanging at his girdle “For a consideration, yes, but the emperor has longears. May the tigers devour me if it be not so.” “He can make hens lay when he thinks proper; I grant that,” Arad said gra- < ously. The mandarin stood firm He could not let a shipful of foreign devils into the river without the requisite bond. in youth, he said, he had been poor and forced to study by the light of a confined glow- worm. Such glimpses of wisdom as this had af forded were al! that had kept his brain cup from being severed from his shoulders. “It is the will of the Son of Heaven that you dc not loiter at the outer an- chorages,”’ he affirmed. Captain Arad answered that he would have hir de- cision ready in the morn- ing. The mandarin, going over the rail again in his scarlet armchair, uttered these words *‘May the five happinesses abide with The Five Happinesses long life, wealth, children, virtue and a natural death. A natura! death —that was a natural wish, as far forth as it concerned the desti-

nies of mandarins But Arad Whitney have been a trader and a would not seaman if he had not, from ~

was coming on the star- board side. Captain Arad narrowed his eyes, With The Mandarin’s Junk Was Coming on the Starboard Side. Captain Arad Narrowed His Eyes. youth up, had With a Sprung Foremast and a Staved Keel, He Didn't Want to Come to Grips a sneaking Continued on Page 88)

Page 20

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 By Ralph D. Weyerbacher, Commander, C.C., U.S. N. VIATION, in 1929, is entering its third decade of prac- tical operation. True, the Wright brothers devel- oped their motor-driven airplane as early as 1903, but it was not until 1909, when Blériot crossed the English Channel and amazing records were established at the First International Air Meet in France, that the world fully realized the extent of its conquest of the air. Between 1909 and 1919 an extraordinary development was accom- plished under the impetus of both science and war, culmi- nating in successful transatlantic flights. From 1919 until 1929 aviation progressed at similarly rapid pace in its peacetime service, until today its airlines crisscross most of Europe and the United States, its planes are accepted as necessary and dependable common carriers and its economic possibilities have attracted a staggering amount of private capital. Naturally the question is asked: What can aviation accomplish in the next decade to equal the record of development achieved in the two which have passed ? Prophecy is seldom more difficult than when applied to aeronautics. Even optimistic forecasts of twenty years ago have been surpassed in some aspects by actual achievement. What can be told, Speeps ATTAINED MILES AN HOUR 1906 , : . & Ss an ss bla oe 47 a RP ae &2 ees Pa Ke tL ee 126 1920 ip) Se . 194 1922 =e 222 1924 278 1928 . 318 That these achievements will be improved upon dur- ing the next decade cannot be doubted. Although much further progress is expected in air- plane development within the next ten years, few de- signers and engineers can accept as probable many of the glowing forecasts which however, is where the trend of aeronau- tical research is leading, and what design- ers and engineers hope, with reason, to accomplish in improving the airplane be- fore another ten years shall have passed Beyond that point it would be hazardous to venture Farther and Faster F gerec ved tenes research today is concerned with the same fundamen- tals which have dominated its activities since the Wrights equipped their glider with a sixteen-horse-power engine and hopped off on a twelve-second flight over the sand dunes of Kitty Hawk, North Car- olina. Its objectives are safety in flight and increase in performance. What has been accomplished in achieving the first is evi- dent in the low proportion of accidents to tie ope tn tae ae OURTESY OF THE NAVAL AIRCRAFT FACTORY Taking Off improvements will be accomplished by developing antistalling devices, by in- creasing inherent stability, by utilizing metal construction to a greater degree, by enlarging the ratio of pay-load weight to actual airplane, engine and fuel weight, ee and by making brakes and shock absorb- ers on the running gear more effective. The recent substitution of revolving vanes for wings, as demonstrated in the auto- gyro, also promises new safety factors, although the slotted wing is still regarded by some designers as the most encouraging development along such lines. In motors the trend is toward lighter weight per horse power combined with greater reliability and decreased fuel con- sumption—ultimately the determining factors in the efficiency of any airplane. It has been said that the principles of suc- recent achievements have inspired. They do not be- lieve, for example, that within this period airplanes equipped with all the lux- uries of modern ocean liners will carry passengers across the Atlantic on daily sched- ules. They do not believe that within a decade air- planes will reach the gigan- tic dimensions which many enthusiasts now visualize. They do'not believe the air- plane will in that time sup- plant the automobile in every home owner’s garage or that privately owned air flivvers will enable their possessors to spend Mon- The Autogyro in Flight passenger miles flown in modern aerial commerce. Prog- ress in the second is best illustrated by the following tables showing the length of single flights and the speed attained by airplanes at successive periods during the past twenty years: LENGTH OF FLicuts, WrrHovt REFUELING MILZEA MILES 199 145 1920 1190 1911 ; 40 1923 . 3290 1913 wey a re 3911 day in New York, Tuesday in Cairo, Wednesday in Hong-Kong and Thursday in Hollywood. Certain limitations now inherent in all air- plane design preclude these possibilities until new sources of power or new laws of flight are discovered and put to practical use. They do believe, however, that the design, safety factors, comfort, motive power, speed and utility of the airplane will improve gradually. These things, they are confident, will be achieved by further refining and devel- oping airplane structure, equipment and power plants. Present research in structural design indicates that such cessful aviation were known for centuries and awaited only the appearance of a light and powerful motor to put them into successful operation. In general the possibilities of motor development lie in departure from the present Otto four-stroke cycle, utilization of the Diesel or the turbine principle, and improvements in the composition of the fuel and the treatment of the charge. Where the present type of gasoline engine is concerned the effort is toward perfect- ing carburetion and distribution, improving fuels to permit of higher compression pressures and refining design and materials to decrease weight without sacrifice in strength. PHOTO. GY COURTESY OF THE NAVAL AIRCRAFT FACTORY, PHA. A Seaplane Landing The Trend Toward Smaller Planes HESE probable developments may fall disappointingly short of the wonder ships often visualized for the imme- diate future, but they recognize the iact that several limi- tations now stand in the way of airplanes comparable in size to the Leviathan. The first of such factors is the now- existing law in aeronautics that one horse power will lift and propel a maximum of about twenty-five pounds. In practical operation from eighteen to twenty pounds is con- sidered closer to the limit. The second is that as the area of lifting surfaces is increased, the weight also increases. As the engineer expresses it, “‘The lift varies as the area; the area varies as the square of dimension; and the weight varies as the square for the same strength factors.” Therefore the percentage of useful load does not increase with size. In fact, in the present stage of aeronautical development, most planes decrease in efficiency after attaining a weight of 45,000 pounds or more. With few exceptions, smaller rather than larger planes are under development today. Several types de- signed for war purposes were actually larger than the big- gest of the planes that have recently crossed the Atlantic

Page 21

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 19 as land planes are equipped with wheel brakes. Slotted wings permit the airplane to land at lower speeds without stalling. The average airplane wing loses its lifting ability at the stall angle, because the smooth flow of air over the upper surface is broken up into eddies and dead air. The Handley Page slot is a nar- row air foil placed at the nose of the main air foil, or wing. When the norma! stall angle is reached, air flows at high speed through the op- ening between the small air foi! and the front of the main wing. This swift current of air sustains the smooth flow Frieze-type ailerons add materially to sensitiveness of control. This is achieved by a new method of hinging and shaping the ailerons to make them more effective. Differ ential aileron control also adds to efficiency by enabling the pilot to increase the rolling motion more easily when desired. Stabilizer adjustment from the cockpit permits the pilot to trim the plane more easily in a longitudinal direction, reduces the load on the elevator controls and aids in landings. Perhaps the most notable development in design has been the increasing use of metal instead of wood for air- plane construction. To both designer and manufacturer metal offers many advantages. Its physical properties are more uniform than those of wood, allowing a smaller load factor to be used with safety, and it does not absorb moisture, which materially affects the weight and deterio- ration of structures. In designing, its physical properties permit the use of more efficient compact structural mem- bers, occupying less space and eliminating much resistance when exposed to the air stream. Its compactness is also advantageous in parts of the structure where space is a major consideration, as, for example, in the body. A Twin: Motored Fiying Boat in the Air or are flying in aerial transport. There is little reason to suppose that any of the large types will gain relatively over ex- isting types because of size alone. Instead of size, increase of power will proportion- ately increase load and range. Since it now appears impracticable to build gigantic planes, other methods must be found to increase the carrying capacity, or pay load, on which the financial success of commercial aviation is dependent. At the present time this is being accom- plished by reducing the weight necessary for actual flight and adding what is saved to pay-load weight. Thus, weight in a loaded airplane may be divided into five parts: (a) structure weight; (6b) equip- ment weight; (c) power-plant weight; (d) fuel-and-oil weight, and (e) cargo weight. If we reduce structure, equipment and power-plant weight, we can add to fuel Such metal construction as is now in general use is of two types—framed and monocoque. With or Without Framework HE framed type consists of a skeleton structural framework designed to carry the imposed loads from flying and landing in the form of either trusses or beams. The framework is then covered with fab- ric or light metal to give the required streamlined form. Monocoque construc- tion utilizes the outside metal skin for strength, by providing sufficient reén- forcement and doing away with the ne- cessity of any skeleton framework. It ha many advantages in aircraft design, in- cluding decrease in weight and the elimi- nation of trusswork, individual strength members and numerous connections and streamlining strips, which can occupy con- siderable space. Monocoque construction also permits gasoline and oil tanks to be built into the structure instead of being added to it as is necessary in the case of the framed and cargo weight. By utilizing the new capacity for fuel alone, as Lindbergh, Byrd, Chamberlin and other transatlantic flyers did, we can increase the range of the plane. By holding fuel weight down, we can add to cargo capacity and dividends—as the aerial-transport operator does. The problem is primarily one of proportioning properly the weight of plane, fuel and cargo so that capacity, com- fort and speed will provide the greatest returns on the investment. Increasing Both Comfort and Safety URING the past ten years great attention has been de- voted to improvements permitting the increase of fuel and cargo capacity and, of course, performance. This has been accomplished by lightening structure and power plant, and by reducing resistance. Marked structural progress has been made in the design of efficient wing and other air- foil sections, in refining body shapes, in streamlining wires and struts, and in reducing the resistance of windshields, tail skids, engine cylinders, wheels and other exposed parts. Comfort and safety have been increased by the use of improved landing gear and of shock-absorbing struts in place of the earlier bulky shock-absorbing cord assemblies. The development of the amphibian-type air- plane, slotted wings, frieze-type ailerons, differential aileron control and stabilizer adjustment from the cockpit may be cited as new and distinctive steps in the steady progress toward increased efficiency achieved in the past decade. Many of these features may need a word of explanation. The amphibian airplane, as is generally known, is one that can operate from either land or water. Retractible landing wheels, which can be drawn into its body, or wings while in the air make this possible. This type of aircraft has added new factors of utility and safety to avi- ation. Wheel brakes, as the name implies, enable the pilot to shorten the run of his airplane when landing from a flight, permitting the use of smaller landing fields, and, as the brakes may be applied separately to each wheel, increasing maneuverability and safety in taxiing. Amphibians as well The Hull Skeleton of a Large Fiying Boat over the wing until a second angle of stall is reached, practically achieving what engineers call a “flat lift curve.” The second angle is roughly twice the normal! stall angle in degrees. In order to take advantage of this high angle, the trailing edge flap of the wing is bent down and a fic- titious angle of incidence—the angle at which the main air stream strikes the wing—allows the plane to take advan- tage of the lift at ianding angles. A type. The utilization of the cross section for strength adds greatly to safety by eliminating the possibility of ultimat destruction due to a weakness in any one part. The fol- lowing tabulation of useful load over gross weight of some of the best designs of ten years ago and those of the pres- ent day is presented because it emphasizes more clearly than words the advantages to be gained by the use of metal construction and refinement of design. (Continued on Page 205 wing may be made up of amultiplicity of slots similar to a Venetian blind. Each added slot, however, demands an increaseinangle of incidence to ob- tain the effect of the added lift in landing. Compressed air has been tried as a means of main- taining smooth flow on the upper surface of the wing to offset normal stall. This air is furnished by blow- ers through jets having their open- ings near the maxi- mum curve on the upper surface, but the results have been less promis- ing than those ob- tained by means of the Handley Page slot. Airptanes Under Construction at the U. 5. Naval Aircraft Factory, Phiiadeiphia PHOTOS BY WTESY OF THE NAWRE ArmORA

Page 22

20 BIG THI 0,” CHERRY WALLACE said positively, “I won't. Eat your dinner now like a good little boy, and spread a smile over that dead pan while you're doing it or I'll hiss and walk out on you.” “You treat me as though I were a child,” Ted Keeler grumbled, flushing. They were dining at Maurice's, in the old French quarter of New Orleans. A big room with an old-fashioned high ceiling. Garish murals. A tiled floor sprinkled with sawdust. Rickety chairs and tables, clean coarse linen, indifferent service and excellent food. She was dark, trim, pretty. Something about her of the cocky, confident alertness of a city sparrow. Smartly dressed. Only a woman would have noticed that every- thing she wore, from shoes to hat, was just a shade shabby. They were too often shined, steamed, cleaned, brushed, pressed He was tall, thin, light-haired. Blue eyes. A bony, large-featured, sensitive face. The stamp of college, dimmed somewhat, but still discernible on him. Mental and emotional growing pains evident in an appealing puppylike seriousness of manner. Cherry studied him with wise, frank eyes. “‘How old are you?” she asked. “Two years older than you are,” “Check!” said Cherry. “I'm twenty-two. You're twenty-four then. That's calendar measure. It doesn’t mean a thing. Why, Ted, when I was ten years old I knew stuff that you haven’t begun to suspect yet. If you live to be ninety you'll die ten thousand years younger than I was when I was fifteen.” “I wish you wouldn't say things like that.” “I know you do. Did it ever occur to you that I wish I didn’t have to say them?” “You don’t have to.” “Don't sulk, Ted. Eat your soup. “T don't want it.” “All right. Call Henri then and let’s get on with the dinner. Whether you want your soup or not, I’ve got to get back to work, you know.” “Oh, why haven't I got money!” he cried. “Lots of reasons,” said Cherry. “Your papa didn’t leave you any. You're twenty-four. You're a New Orleans

he said stoutly.

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST fy 9. newspaperman. And then Oh, well, you’re just the sort who doesn’t have it, that’s all.” “What do you mean by that?” he asked. “Nothing more than I said. It’s true, Ted. You'll never have money—not more than enough for next week and the week after, anyhow.” “Why?” She shrugged. “‘Same reason scme men haven't got blue eyes. They just haven’t got ‘em, that’s all. You’re the very nicest number I ever knew in all my life, Ted. You're too good to be true. I’m horribly in love with you, but I'd go down to the dock and join out with the catfish in the Mississippi before I’d marry you.” “* Money isn’t everything,” he argued. “Right!” she agreed. “If it was, I wouldn't be strutting my stuff back of a hotel cigar counter to get enough of it to check myself on to New York. If I thought it was everything I'd do everything to get it. I don’t and I won't.” “Well, then if you ss “Hold everything,” she interrupted. ‘“‘An engine isn’t everything there is to an automo- bile, but how much would you give for a car without one?” “It isn’t fair for you to say that I'll never havemoney,” he protested. “Just because ——” “‘Listen,”’ she cut in, leaning forward, “I’m going to hurt you—-bad. You're small time, Ted. You always will be—just small time.” “You say that because I'm just a reporter here in New Orleans now,” he said angrily. “If I ——” “I say it because it’s true, Ted. If you were plastered up against a bigger town the small time in you'd show all the plainer. The biggest idea you’ve got is to get hold of that little paper up in —— Where is it?” “Belleville,” he muttered. “‘ Belleville, North Carolina.” “ How big is Belleville?” “ About eight thousand.” “Just your size!” “Oh, is that so!” he said, stung. ‘‘There are a lot of mighty fine people in Belleville. Just as good people there

“Did I knock ’em?” she interrupted. “Fine people? I'd bet on it. There are a lot of mighty fine birds sitting on *** Night, Ted,” She Called Over Her Shoutder

May 25,1929 WILLIAM SLAVENS McNUTT rT eV iw 2 ee BY R. mM. ~~ -— woe US. 6S He Left the Car. She Sat Quiet for a Little Time | ie a, & little twigs away up in the air, having a grand time. What’s that got to do with trying to get a police dog to climb up and roost on a limb ail his life? The dog can’t do it, Ted, and that’s no slam at the nice little birds.” “Have you ever been in Belleville?” “Half my life,” she assured him. “I’ve been in Belle- ville all the way from Portland, Maine, to San Diego and Bellingham to Key West.” “You've never really lived in a town like Belleville,” he said. “Check!” she agreed. ‘‘ Never have and never will.” “You scare me when you talk that way,”’ he muttered. “Not me. It’s the truth that scares you. The truth is that we haven’t any more chance of getting married and living happy ever after and all that pap than the King of Siam has of being made chief of police of this town. I can't take you to Broadway with me and you certainly can’t take me to Belleville with you.” “Broadwzy!” he said scornfully. “Is that all ——” “It’s no street,”” she explained. ‘‘To a trouper like me, it’s just a word that means big time.” “You'd give up everything just for that—what you call big time?” “You don’t know what a real yen for the big time is,” she said gently. “Don’t you think I’ve got any ambition?” “‘You’re ar amateur,” she said. “‘ You live for the fun of it. You've been having a grand time down here playing reporter in this old town. You get a great kick out of it because people here tell you about O. Henry and What was that other guy’s name you were telling me about?” “‘Lafcadio Hearn,” he said sullenly. “That’s the one. They were real troupers.” “They were not,” he said. “They were writers—you know that.” “Troupers,” she insisted. ‘Any real professional is a trouper, whether his gag is writing, singing, hoofing or Hamlet. You get a bang out of doing a bit in this town because those regular babies played here once. You don’t want to go on and take what comes after.” ““What do you mean—what comes after?” “The gaff,” she said. ‘‘ You fall for me and what do you want todo? Dig upa few thousand dollars somewhere and make a down payment on a dinky little paper in Belleville! In five or ten years you'd have it all paid off and be sitting pretty on.a little hill about the size of an ant heap. We'd have a flock of kids and a little frame house, a front lawn and a cheap car. That’s the amateur’s way out. The troupers take the gaff.” a <a s

Page 23

] —<—

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 21 “T’m beginning to believe in Santa Claus all over again,” she said hap- pily. “‘ Lew, I'm so glad to see you!” “Let that ride for me,” he said, chuckling. “When did you get in?” “This afternoon. Drove over from Miami.” “I could hug you!” she exclaimed, eyes shining. “No law,” he reminded her. “If there is, go ahead and break it. I'll spring you if you're pinched.” “ Always a line!” she said. “Don’t need any line for you, babe,” he said easily. ‘Just split the old teeth and the truth pops out like a slug out of a rod.” She laughed and, reaching up, squeezed his arm. “Sit down,” she invited him. “ Henri, another chair. Gee, Lew, I’m so Oh!” She saw Keeler, standing now, napkin in hand, embarrassed, hurt. “This is Mr. Danby, Ted,” she said, “an

“I know I’m no genius,”” he muttered. ‘‘You needn't rub that in.” “Genius!” she said scornfully. “I’m talking about regulars—troupers, like me, like my mother and dad were. They never made the big time, but they never quit hitting for it. My dad could have clicked. He had the stuff, but booze and the horses stopped him. I haven’t got as much as he had, but I’ve got enough, and nothing’s going to stop me.” “You think you're going to be a star?” “I’m going to have my name up there in lights one of these times, and what goes with it. I can’t do that and stop over in Belleville for five or ten years to play house with you, Ted. I’m sorry.” “Would you marry me if I had money?” he asked. “If you had enough I’m afraid I would,” she confessed. “‘I’d marry you and use your money to help get across on the big time. You'd be miserable, Ted. You wouldn't like the places we’d go or the people we’d meet.” “How do you know I wouldn't?” he asked, aggrieved. “IT don’t want to go to Belleville either. I just spoke about that because it was a chance - If I could raise the money somewhere—I mean, we wouldn't have to wait forever and “2 “You know it wouldn’t work, Ted,” she said. “‘Belle- ville? Me?” “You call it small time,”’ he said. “I want to tell you it’s a big job to go into a town like that and take a paper that’s on the rocks and I suppose you think starting in with a little frame house and bringing up a—you know —— I want things, too, Cherry, and I’m just as willing to take the gaff to get them as you are. I want us to have the—-the’’—he hesitated, flushed, spoke the words with an effort—‘‘the nice things. A home and—you know ——” She reached across the table and patted his hand. There was a blink of moisture in her eyes. “You nice kid!” she said huskily. “I certainly wish I could afford you.” He maintained a sulky silence while the waiter served the fish. An exclamation from Cherry startled him. He looked up and saw a man approaching, a smile of recogni- tion on his face. A tall fellow, dark, a sprinkle of gray in his hair, a high sloping forehead, long chin, thin lips, an aggressive nose and wide-apart curiously small black eyes. His deep-tanned face was stippled with freckles. “Well, look who’s here!” Cherry called out cordially. “Lo, babe,” the newcomer greeted her. He took her outstretched hand, bent and kissed her. “Saw Frisco Tommy over at the hotel,”” he went on. “He told me you were here.”

Aa Hour Later Ted Stopped at the Cigar Counter Again. “Say,” He Said Excitedly, 4) ‘ eo “‘Danby’s a Peach, Isn't He?"’ —— old friend. Mr. Keeler, Lew.” Lew Danby nodded and smiled. His eyes spent a scant second in ap- x praisal. Brief as the glance was, Ted felt scorched. When he sat down again he was breathing a little fast and trembling. Danby was seated, half turned from him, monopolizing Cherry. “What's the big idea?” Danby asked. ‘‘ Frisco tells me you're doing jolt back of the cigar counter over at the hotel.” “Hear about dad?” she asked. He shook his head. “Just before Christmas,” she said—“‘in Arizona, near Pheenix.”’ He took her hand and squeezed it. “Sorry,” he said briefly. ‘“‘Knew he had it. Saw him in Saratoga summer before last. He told me then.” “He might have beaten it if he’d gone down to the desert sooner,” she said. “‘But—you know dad.” Danby nodded. “He did love to be around,” he said. “We went down there last August,’ “T stuck through.” “Too bad,”’ Danby said. “He had a lot of stuff, Cherry. Good comic and there wasn’t a better tap dancer in the country. If he just “Yes,” Cherry interrupted him, “I know.” “What's this cigar-counter gag?” he asked again. ’ she went on. “Don't be dumb,” she begged. “ Did somebody tell you they were selling railroad tickets a dollar down and more later?” “Didn't you know where to get in touch with me?” he said roughly. She looked at him—a level look. Watching, Ted Keeler was gripped by excitement. The feeling was almost identi- cal with that he experienced sitting at a ringside watching two fighters slug it out toe to toe. After a littl Cherry nodded slightly. “Yes,” she said simply, “I knew.” Danby shrugged one shoulder and turned to Keeler. “You know old Scotty Wallace, did you?” he asked pleasantly. To Keeler it was as though a gong had rung, ending a savage round. He was stirred, scared, abashed and ashamed of being so. “No,” he said with an effort. ‘ No, I didn’t know him.” “Great old card,”’ Danby went on. “Everybody loved him. Babe, do you remember that time—during the spring meet, it was—that you and your dad were playing Louis- ville and he came out to the Downs with fifty dollars and ——” It was a long story. One of a forty-eight-hour run of luck at the track and roulette, winding up with the end of the streak and the loss of winnings that ran into many thousands, within a two-hour period of il! fortune. “He stuck his last fifty-dollar stack of chips on Number Fifteen,”” Danby said, concluding, “and lost. Then he stepped back from the table, waved the crowd away and started to dance. You remember the routine he was doing that year, Cherry?” She nodded. “He went through the whole thing,” Danby continued, chuckling, “ whistling the music as he danced. Then he stopped and pointed to his feet. ‘I'll never be broke while those two heels hang down under my ankles,’ he said. ‘My pockets are empty and I haven't got a dime in the bank, but I can write a check with these dogs that they'll cash in any show shop in the country.’” He smiled and lit a cigarette. “‘A great card,” he con- cluded. “‘The mob on the big apple wil! miss him.” The three rode back to the hotel in Danby's car. It was a sedan, one of the most expensive of the foreign makes. There was a chauffeur. When the car stopped in front of the hotel, Danby turned to Ted. “I'm stopping here,” he said. ‘Where do you go?’ “I? Why, the office, I guess,"” Ted said, (Continued on Page 112)

She Saw Keeler, Standing Now, Napkin in Hand, Embarrassed, Murt. “This is Mr. Danby, Ted,” ——— She Said, ‘‘an . Oid Friend. Mr. Keeter, Lew"

Page 24

O YOU'RE a-speculating—remarked old Fap San- ders to the youthfu! horse wrangler—what makes them two old coots over on Pinto Creek stick together like twin brothers. They must discern a few good p’ints about each other, buddy, because they started to ride and tie close to half a century ago, and have been at it ever since, contented as two clams. What does ride and tie mean? I'll recite a few high lights about old Al Wither- spoon and Hank Arnold, so you can see for yourself just what it does mean. Fight-ten year ago there come along a summer that was drawing to a close, as summers has a habit of doing. Old Al Witherspoon and Hank Arnold had obsarved many a summer fading into fall without paying any special heed to it. They'd prospected every range from the Panamints and the San Jacinto on north to Nome. They’d summered together in the Colorado Desert and froze in for the winter together at frigid Yukon camps. Sometimes they’d made a few minor strikes and had a little stake on hand, but al- ways spent it a-hunting for the one big bonanza. The years had slid past without them noticing much until it dawned on them that they’d passed the signpost labeled Sixty by a considerable margin and was as broke as they’d ever been in their youth—no stake laid up against declining years. It was then they decided to get a little home ranch of their own and settle down. They picked on the Wilkins place. It lay in the foothills, close up under the main range, had a hundred acres of alfalfa on it, and a nice little water right out of the creek. They could run a few head of stock there, prospect the big range of summers, trap a mite of winters, and enjoy life generally. But they didn’t have the price to buy the Wilkins place—which was for sale round seven thousand dollars. They had a fairish string of horses, and t come to them to go into the dude business and take out pack parties and hunting outfits until they could lay up the price of the Wilkins ranch. Well, this particular summer was a-drawing to a close and they was about due to bring the outfit down from the hills and meet a hunting party of three at Hissop and escort them into the game country. Throughout the sum- mer they'd had with them young Jim Channing. When they’d found him wandering round disconsolate at the railroad station and decided between themselves that he THE SATURDAY EVENING POST was in a bad hole and it would be an act of human kindness to take him into the hills with them for the summer, it was also with the notion that he’d-be a dead weight on their hands, sort of. Instead, Jim Channing had proved to be not only a genial companion but a real competent party. He wasn’t to be lost in the mountains and he could handle a gun with the best; explained that he’d hunted considerable in Canada with his dad and big game warn’t no novelty to him. He could handle horses with any man, and when old Al inquired whar at he’d larned to set a pony, Chan says they’d always had horses at home for him to fool round with. He swung an ax like a lumberjack and was a first- rate camp cook. All told, old Al Witherspoon and Hank Arnold had come to be real attached to Chan. When the time for parting drawed near they knowed they was going to miss this boy. Which in itself was no mean testimonial, for them two old terrapins had teamed it together for so many years that on the few occasions when they’d been accompanied by any third party the day of parting was greeted with a double-barreled sigh of satisfaction and not any noticeable regret. “Wonder whar the lad will drift to and how he’!l make out,”” Al speculated. “I was just a-musing about that selfsame thing,” says Hank. Their two minds always worked together like a well-matched team. “Chan was sartinly feeling at low ebb in his sperits that day we discovered him,’”’ Al says. “Low! He was sunk!” Hank agreed. “Going down for the second time at least. This summer in the hills has sure restored his mental outlook. It don’t appear as if we'd ort to cut him adrift just yet.” “I was thinking that same thing,”’ says Al. “‘ We'll need a horse wrangler on this trip.” ““My idea exactly!” Hank chimed in. ‘“He’s been a guest of ourn up to now, Chan has. If we hire him as horse wrangler for the trip, at least he’ll have a little stake while he’s getting his feet under him again. Likely he don’t know what a wrangler’s pay is, him coming from the East thataway, so we can double it and he’l! never suspect.” Al Witherspoon slapped his thigh in high satisfaction. They put the proposition up to Chan, half afraid he’d May 25, 1929 By HAL G. EVARTS ILLUSTRATED Br w. H#. D. KOERNER “Il Dectare,’’ Says Al, ‘‘if He Ain't Just About the a-Struttingest Party I Ever Laid an Eye On"’ know it was charity and turn it down, him having con- siderable native pride and self-respect. But young Jim Channing was right enthusiastic and the deal was closed. The hunting party hopped off the train at Hissop—though “hopped” ain’t exactly the word to describe the manner in which the first one of them descended. ‘‘Emerged”’ would be better. Well, Mr. Merril, a dignified, middle- aged party, emerged from the train first and accorded Al and Hank an impressive bow. Next came Alice Merril, his daughter; a girl of some- where round Jim Channing’s age. She flashed a smile at the two old-timers as she came down the steps. Then her eyes traveled on beyond them and came to rest on Chan. He stood there tall and straight and handsome as a picture. Jim Channing was the answer to a maiden’s dream, and no mistake. He was smiling that easy smile of his and never took his eyes off her till he come to with a sudden start, picked up her luggage and walked off toward the outfit with it. And it seemed as if the girl was reluctant to re- move her gaze from Chan’s back as he walked away. Last but by no means least, anyways not in his own estimation, was a man some fifteen years senior to the giri—a chap named Archer. He’s distinguished looking, and it turns out that he was as distinguished as he looked; leastways he is in the circle in which they all travel in their own home town in Illinois. It leaks out that Archer was the wealthiest man, rating somewhar above a million, in their home hamlet. A man don’t have to be a profound observer to discover that Archer is interested in Alice Merril. Which was natural enough, considering the fact that Alice Merril was one of those charming, gracious creatures about whom everybody, old and young, exclaims, “ Ain’t she a lovely thing!”’ the first time they talk to her. The whole outfit fall for Alice like a snowslide. Bill Seely, the camp cook that Al had signed on for the trip, just laid him- self out to cook up special dishes for her. Which, if you know camp cooks, is a sterling testimonial; because, in the main, a camp cook dishes up whatever suits him best, and all hands can eat it and like it or starve, and see how much he cares. The girl complimented Seely’s cooking and she didn’t conceal the fact that she was plumb delighted with old Al Witherspoon and Hank Arnold. Both of them were SS eee

Page 25

{ } ) THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 23 tickled to death with her. Also, she’s friendly as you please with Jim Channing, the horse wrangler. She was riding behind Channing near the head of the outfit on the second day out when the trail led round a high rim and they could look way off down in the bottoms and see a green spot the size of a pocket handkerchief. “That’s the Wilkins place—the one old Al and Hank figure to buy some day,” he informed. “That is, ‘f they ever get the final installment of that debt to old Dave Peel paid off, which don’t appear anyways likely.” Right away, she wanted to know the particulars of this debt to old Dave Peel. Chan, during his two months with old Al Witherspoon and Hank Arnold, had adopted their mannerisms of speech. He’d acquired the vernacular, so to speak, and imagined that he couldn’t be told apart from a native of the range. But his accent give him away. The girl favored him with a speculative look now and again as he related the yarn to her. Her eyes twinkled at some of his range expressions, but she didn’t let on she’d obsarved anything; not right away, she didn’t. Chan had pieced out bits of information from other old- timers, so he knew the straight of Al’s debt to old Dave Peel. It had come about when Al Witherspoon warn’t much more’n a colt. He'd heard of the big Hardpan strike being made and he headed for the diggings forthwith. When he was riding across the Chollo Desert, lolling half asleep in the saddle, his pony made a sudden sidewise jump from a rattler and piled up in the bottom of a cut-bank wash. When Al comes to, his horse is gone and he’s laid out with a busted leg some eighteen-twenty mile from the clostest water hole. He started out to crawl for that spring. Round twenty-four hours later old Dave Peel comes plodding across the Chollo a-whacking a brace of burros ahead of him. He sees a crazy, crawling sort of a trail in the sand and stops to take a squint at it. “IT declare,” says Dave, “if that ain’t a new breed of terrapin to me,” and he sets out on that crazy trail. He found Al Witherspoon just about breathin’ his last, got a few drops of water into him and packed him to that spring. Dave doctored him for six weeks, and by the time Bo Al could travel, all the ground for miles round discovery at Hardpan had been staked. By staying there to nurse Al, old Dave had lost his chance to stake a claim. Al was real contrite about that, but old Dave only chuckled and surmised that whatever gold he might have gained by hustlin’ on to Hardpan would have weighed mighty heavy on his mind if he’d desarted a fellow human to die on the desert in order to get it. “Always bear it in mind, young feller,” says Dave, “that while gold is a mighty nice thing to have, thar’s other things in life that’s a sight more impo’tant. Chief among which is not to have it setting astride your con- science and a-spurring you with both heels that you've left a fellow being in a bad hole. I've kilt bad men a plenty without no more qualms than ending a tarantular. But I ain’t ever yet left a good man in a tight fix if "twas to be helped. Besides, thar’s no monop'ly on gold. We'll go find some for ourselves.” So old Dave Peel and young A! Witherspoon decides to ride and tie from then on out. After a few months they locate a fairish prospect and work it until funds run low. Al heads for a job in the mines at Hardpan, while Dave stays on to work the prospect. Every two weeks Al sends all his wages above his beard money to Dave at a little camp called Crellin, so Dave has grub money and can buy powder, caps and fuse to work their prospect. After maybe six months Al takes a layoff and heads for Crellin to see how old Dave's making out. He finds all them remittances piled up in the Crellin post office, uncalled for, and he sets out for the prospect with considerable misgivings. The upshot of it was that Al hadn’t much more’n left for Hardpan that time before a delayed blast had busted old Dave up mighty bad. Old as he was, he hadn’t been able to weather it through alone. Al found him thar in the cabin, six months dead. He'd wrote a note to Al, explain- ing how his time had come to fold his tent and making Al heir to Dave's half of the prospect, which was richer than they’d thought. Al sold it out for a tidy sum, collected them unclaimed remittances and set out to put all possible distance between him and Crellin. Some time later Al turned up in Ten Sleep. It was easy to see that he was low in his mind. He'd stand at the end of the bar by himself and drink and brood. Bil! Barnes says that a ghost sure is a-riding that young sport. Finally Al loosens up and relates to us all about it. It's preying on his mind that if he’d been the right kind of a pardner to old Dave, he'd only have worked three days a week at Hardpan and would have put in the other four days going down to Crellin to make sure that old Dave was all right Bill Barnes, Rang Jones, Johnny Matteson and the rest of us scoffed at that notion and tried to p’int out that ever a mother wouldn't go stampeding back and forth thataway in the case of an only child “It’s no use, boys,” Al says. ‘“‘ You mean well, but you- all can't convince me that I ain't to blame, after what old Dave done-for me that time. I aim to squar my debts as I go along, and now I've been saddled with a debt that can’t never be paid.” He took to riding round the range, aimlesslike, of day- times. Then he didn’t show up for three-four days and we-all was apprehensive, it being midwinter and plenty cold, that he’d set himself down somewhar, absent-minded like, and got froze stiff. Then he come riding into Ten Sleep in the middle of the night and roused some of the boys. Thar’s a queer light in his eyes. Young Hank Arnold was a-holding down a line camp for the Cross F outfit for the winter. Al had come across the cabin and concluded to step down off his horse and proffer the occupant a drink out of the bottle he was packing in a saddle pocket. He found Hank Arnold thar on the floor, crippled up some- thing scandalous, his horse having bucked into a bad-land crack with him and wallowed him most to death. He'd managed to drag himself back to the cabin, him only being a hundred yards off, but had collapsed and couldn't either start a fire or h’ist himself into his bunk Al had put him to bed, dressed his hurts as best he knew and nursed him along on whisky and hot soup for three days and nights; Hank out of his head and a-cussing him something fearful a big part of the time. Then he'd fell off Continued on Page 171 Hank and Al Had Observed That Alice Merril Was Putting In Considerable Time Riding Near Jim Channing

Page 26

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 by Chet Shafer 'M BID fitty! Who'll bi’ me fitty-five?”’ Husky-throated and oose-faced, an unctuous auctioneer challenged a small group of prospec- tive buyers gathered under the trees of an old, cupolaed, mansion. He flourished a wooden mallet in his right hand. His left rested on the mas- sive head of a superb St. Bernard dog of undoubted square, brick, Midwestern vy pedigreed strain “I'm bid fitty-five; I’m bid fitty-five! Who'll make it sixty?" The bidding had been spirited. It had started iow and mounted swiftly. But a lull came. None seemed eager to make the jump to sixty. The auctioneer re- of the animal's virtues, pleaded, attempted to shame his He drew out peated a list nearers nothing. Finally, with a hopeless gesture, he fat queried: “Do I hear any more? Do I hear any more?” he answered himself, definitely: He “T hear no As he spoke he on the head brought his mallet down with a sharp of the beast at his side. “The gentleman with the eye- glasses gets this wonderful cast-iron masterpiece of the molder’s gentle art for fitty-five dollars! And now, laydees and gentulmin, the next article I wish to call to your attention tunk 660.3009 1 “ Soild he shouted. A Trip to a Dead Circus gpa enactment of this scene was recent realistic testi- mony that at least one noble institution, shunted into the discard by the unsentimental yard engines of modernism, s about to experience a decided resurrection. The cast- ron and cast-zine animal life, so prolific during the latter half of the past century, is already receiving some deserved recognition from those who appreciate that true art is but a faithful record of human progress. From far corners have come the first faint cries of interest in this well- relegated phase of the nation’s outdoor-art development. And these cries bid fair to swell into a din of respectable proportions as collectors, with sudden realization, seek out the vestiges and offer a ready market. Earnest dec- larations are heard that this institution, almost wholly neglected since the devastation wrought by edicts of supercilious SY COURTESY OF J... MOTT IRON WORKS **The Unfortunate Boot’'’ and, in Oval,‘*The Bumbershoot’’ wealth. They marked the pres- ence of taste and of quality. Decorative as their true purpose was, the animals had a much deeper significance in their effect on the life of the times. No false mod- esty preverted their own- ers from likening their lawns and estates, lavishly strewn with stag and deer, to old English parks where life was real and earnest. Nor from fancying that the dogs, in formidable poses, guarded the ancestral hall from attack. And the animals, whatever the species, whether plain or bronzed, played an extremely important part in the existence of the humble who were privileged to stroll slowly past on a Sunday afternoon to gaze awesomely and absorb the magnificence of the scene. In every town, following the church, Sunday school and yellow- chicken-gravy services, the villagers started out for their walks. Maybe Sam Moyer or Cal Benfer and the fam- ily had been asked in to dinner, so the groups were sizable. The youngsters, squeaking in well-burnished, pointed-toed critics, may be revived. Certainly ts rernainders are to be preserved. It requires no rough goading of the ‘ockles of memory to register a vivid setting in those meandering days when these animals graced the front lawns of the mighty. In a profusion and variety little short of bewilder- ng, sensationally lifelike in pose and attitude, they topped green-verdured swells of rambling lawns, lurked si- lently among the trees or gazed stead- fastly adown the hollows. Blanketed with snow and rigid with cold in winter; still rigid, but hot to the petting caress, in summer, they stood, constant in fair weather or foul, lend- ng a majestic touch to already majestic surroundings. Striking in ndividual strength of design and im- pressive in their surprising luxuri- ance, they conveyed in no unmis- takable manner the social position of shoes, scampered playfully ahead. The elders, merfolks and women- folks separately, trailed leisurely, good-humoredly. They could go over to the cemetery, over the long bridge or over by the waterworks with its bright-hued flower beds. All were alluring choices, but not in the class with the walk by the homes of the elegant families. They would move along past these places where the animals were, the children peering through the cast- iron fences, thrilled in the face of imagined dangers. The boys would aver that the animals were real, and could bite they knew of someone who had been “hooked” by a deer! The girls, holding hands to support their ebb- ing courage, would edge away timidly, and fearsomely ask if the dogs wouldn’t bite; were they safely their owners. They indicated the immediate nearness of affluence and PHOTO. BY MANDEVILLE whit, w.¥ “‘Sambo’’—a Hitching Post pasted down? The elders drank in the grandeur, their survey denoting proper respect and ad- miration, while the owner and his family, seated on filigreed cast-iron settees, that they might be in full view, swelled with pride. The groups would go on, turn, and pass by for another “gawk.”” When theevent was over the womenfolks often made a few catty remarks, reflections of jealousy, and the men- folks, bragging, an- nounced that as soon as they could afford it they intended to nurture a little cast-iron animal life on their own account. De Luxe Pets OW the lords of the manors enjoyed their distinction! They reveled in the tributes to their riches and greatness evi- dent in each passing eye. The animals, rare jewels of the plastic or glyptic art, guaranteed this ad- miration. Moreover, they fired ambition in the hearts of the modest gentry; they caused many pulses to quicken in un- feigned fear; they prevented countless boys from sneaking in and plucking crab apples off the crab-apple tree and little girls from picking ar- bor vite off the arbor-vite bush. Truly, they afforded rich moments for everyone concerned. Sometimes, of course, the an- imals were responsible for un- fortunate experiences such as befell the owner of an energetic and forceful piece, a recumbent spaniel, in front of his house. One dark night the citizen came home after a too assiduous association with the o’er-brimming stein and fell headlong over his objet d’art. Scrambling up, angered, he kicked the defenseless animal on its cast-iron nose. His—the owner’s—howls of pain made the night hideous and he had to go around on crutches for two weeks, making ingenious explanations. Ever after when he reached his point of saturation he crawled past the dog on his hands and knees, thus restraining himself from a pas- sionate temptation to wreak some more well-aimed venge- ance. Later, on a Halloween, some boys of the neighbor- hood removed the animal to a remote point, where it no longer menaced the equilibrium and tranquillity of the owner. Easily the largest and most readily recognized pieces of this well-lighted and shadowed fauna were the lions. Some stood, in savage strength and ferocity, flanking an entrance, in pairs. Some reclined, fearful jowls resting on paws that viciously overlapped their pedestals. The fawn, delicately nostriled and thin of leg and haunch, was a popular ac- quisition, too, along with the tiger, ever an exemplification of inspired work. Deer were fabricated in two postures, standing and reclining. Stags were available only in the upright position and many were nine feet high to the tips of their horns. But, outstanding both in preponderance of numbers and the need of attention they received, there were the cast-iron and cast-zine dogs, those of zinc com- position being in slight excess. These were realistic, force- ful portrayals of all the then known breeds with one ex- ception, the pug. Why the designers, in their otherwise commendable love and reverence for Nature, missed this sniffy, snubby representative of the genus Canide will always remain a substantial mystery among right-thinking, sober people. The oversight is still regrettable.

Page 27

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST In this grouping there were none of the grossly mis- shapen and exaggerated eccentricities of the mocernists. Here could be found faithful depiction, simplicity of pose, exalted examples of ease of movement and grace and tenderness of form. In the leading position was the St. Bernard, formidable in size, but showing his generous na- ture in an open mouth and kindly eyes. He was on his haunches, but alert to save a life a day, if need be. The wolf dog, perhaps, was the most unusual type. His drooping tail bloodhounds. He went first, leaped, and straddled the erea- ture, but he landed with such force and so posteriorly that he broke off the tail at the hilt. The appendage dropped with a thud. So did Russell. The indignant owner blustered from his cast-iron veranda. Russell ran. The next day the owner called a plumber. The artisan was perplexed. Advice on the repairs was requested from the manu- He supplied the information facturer. the loss of the

25 and, in a burst of decorative generosity and subtle sympa thy, he fastened a flock to the steeple of the neighborhood church. These still remain, their paint chipped off in patches, but capable of weathering the elements for con- siderable time to come The exact date of the beginning of the cast-iron period in American art is difficult to set, as no file has of the names of the pioneers who successfully been kept anh pped the

bespoke a nasty disposition; it was spiraled dizzily. He sat with his eyes on the tree tops, as if pouring out a perpetual howl of discontent, and he ap- peared in a bronze coat which cost ten dollars extra, but was well worth the money. The Newfoundland stood with his paws toed in. He had a tail that started out on a straight line, nearly horizontal, but turned up at exact right angles at the halfway point —a curious, albeit arresting, feature. The game dog was on his haunches, mouth open, teeth bared, pant- ing from a retrieve. His left forefoot was lifted from the pit- eous form of a bird with neck stretched out lengthily, cold in cast-iron death. Scotch terriers were numerous, their furrowed frowns well executed. The Italian greyhound was thin and emaciated, his delicate ears limp—the cheapest dog obtain- able, he was, commanding only fifteen dollars ina market steady

to brisk. A number of these dogs came in pairs, in rights and lefts. This was true of the giant French bloodhound, a firmly mod- eled representative of his delegation, and numerous, de- spite the sale price—two hundred dollars. This dog figured in many casualties. He was a de luxe model—of zinc-—and his tail slanted upward, registering a point. This tail, too thin in too close adaptation, was continually drawn into dramas like the one in which Russell J. McLaughlin par- ticipated in the late 90’s, in Detroit. COPYRIGHT BY EWING JAL\ Rare Specimens of the Iron Age OW a sedate, sober-minded music critic, Russell was then a very fat and mischievous boy. Unlike other youths, he held no fear of the cast animals. Passing a spa- cious lawn with some of his fellows one Sunday, he dared all to run and jump on the back of one of these French WAY, &¥.C Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf in a Pasadena Garden

tail being a common form of_casualty —‘“‘just impale the tail on a round bar of iron, thrust the iron into the hollow body of the animal and solder around the wound.” This was done. After Russell's father paid the bill he first chastised his son and then issued the firm order: “‘And don't ever let me catch you jumping on people’s statuary again!” The dogs, the deer and the jungle cats did not complete the list of models, however. The molders also poured off a few lambs; one glaring type of which was lying down, its front legs crossed. Its eyes were sightless—just holes. Its expression fairly marked it as the errant one not included in the ninety-and-nine that safely lay in the shelter of the fold. Its fleece was always bronzed—a sublime touch of genius. There were rabbits, painted white, their ears straight up, and with wire whiskers projecting to make them look natural. Squirrels, painted gray, held cast-iron ruts in their cast-

iron paws. Eagles were perched on rocks. These surprising birds had as much asa nine-foot wing spread in instances, and cost three hundred dollars. Griffins were not common, but could be had in two styles—one with a beak like a toucan, the other with a curved tongue and fitted with breastplate and harness. The grif- fins stood on octagona! bases. Further, in the ornithological depar- ture, two excellent creations were achieved, done by manufacturers for ferrous-minded clients. An innkeeper of New Hampshire, with high originality, had his yard filled and his barns covered with cast-iron crows. So lifelike were the birds that he was never after troubled with the depredations of chicken hawks. Another special order, emanating from a Minnesota farmer, called for two hun- dred cast-iron carrier pigeons. The mod- eler’s task with this request—to endue the birds with charm and grace—was difficult. He succeeded magnificently, avoiding exaggeration, and produced a roughened, bulbous beak and a flat-sided cylindrical head with beady eyes in the exact center. The attitude was passive. Half of the pigeons were painted white, the other half black, and they were mounted on a plate which could be

MT 8Y EWING GALLOWAY, N.Y Metal Gnomes and Rabbits at Piay screwed down. The farmer set them in - trees, on his gates, porches and buildings,

first specimens by freight, crated. However, it known that the rise of thi lea was coincident with the develop- ment of commercia! cast iron, as against hand-hammered iron, now enjoying a brisk revival Brave beams of inlight are supposed to have slanted through the trees and played on some specimens in the late 50's, when landscape beautifi- cation was in its infancy. Put first definite steps to satisfy what soon became an unas- suageable pub demand were not made until 1868, when Joseph W. Fisk began molding operations in New York City. Pedestals on Request R. FISK Germany, where the fauna made a trip to \Y a had already attained a robust growth, and returned with eral pieces, including a French Nloodhound and a wild bear, the seV- mar! piece. Other foundrymen caught the possibilities and 70’s and 80's the latter serving as his trade luring the busines

grew All from to remarkable the animals one-quarter to one-half inch thick of hide, and necessarily hollow, except for the rodents, which were Models were made in clay. For zinc work the taken off in wax; from the wax impression a was made. Casting was then done in pieces, afterward soldered together. The cast-iron animals were made in halves, then screwed or bolted together. The holes were neatly filled with putty. Oftentimes the ridge at the joint was ground down none too well and was responsible for some rather startling irregularities, especially pression. proportions were made cast solid model was zin< mode! n facial ex- All pieces were sold with or without pedestals In as much as the pedestals were expensive, many patrons of the art economically got along without them, and this condition gave rise to an apparently wholesome criticism that the animals looked as if they had been dropped quite by accident. (Continued on Page 189 The Alligator, a Cast«Iron Triumph

Page 28

26 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By COLONEL GIVENS rLELEUVUSTRATE DO Br SIG TI LONG, | this fast-stepping mg time ago, as younger generation fig- ures time, an old black man sat on a levee down below Vicksburg and listened to the nus f the Big River as she ed on toward the Gulf. He was stone blind, this old black man, and he would sit for irs, his feet dangling in the 1ddy water, eyeless sockets ring out over Id river a er ed aiong He was a fiddling fictioneer, lind old black man, shriv- eled with age, blind as a bat, lang bony fingers, ke the black claws of some hideous bird, picking at a bat- tered fiddle he held in the crcok f his arm. Everybody along the Big River from Memphis t New Orleans knew him. They called him Pappy Blue Boy. Nobody knew his name. But somebody should make it point to find out, because Pappy Blue Boy was the real father of blue musi I know that statement will be challenged. I have*read ¢ dozen books, all tracing the origin of blue music to a differ- recently I read an article in a highbrow ent source. Only magazine by the Great Critic. He stated that blue music was riginaily black, but that mis- cegenation had set in long be- fore it came to this country; that before blue music grabbed the world by the slack of the pants and shook it until its feet performed weird, galloping dance steps, it had become tinged with an Oriental yellow. He stated that in the case of ue music it would be a wise d, indeed, that knew its Now, well I know the Great i the last word in such matters But I wonder if he ever talked to Captain Tom Blood, master of the Betsy Waiker. Or whether he ever walked down Beal Street in Memphis before Mr. Handy EE May 25,1929 HENRY RALEIGH heavily padded and cushioned, and raised to such a height as to allow Big Edna the greatest possible comfort while she played. She lay back now and half dozed, great tousled head loll- ing on a bulging bosom, fat yellow fingers picking monoto- nously over minor chords. It was early along the street, just after seven of a long sum- mer’s evening, and Mistuh Freddy’s Place had little trade. Later it would be jammed with laughing, shouting, hard- drinking blacks of both sexes. Mistuh Freddy busied him- self cleaning the bar. He was a small negro, black as coal. To many along the street he was a miracle man, a master of juju, a voodoo doctor with unlimited powers. His mammy, a wise old soul, had learned the black art in the swamps down South. Her rep- utation had been great, and when she died, folks naturally turned to Mistuh Freddy. He knew no juju, of course. Where his mammy had been a great believer in the efficacy of magic words, the mysterious weaving of hands, boiling pots at midnight and all the other eerie hocus-pocus of juju char- latanry, Mistuh Freddy’s methods were much more sim- ple. He was known to police as a purveyor of cocaine. He sold hot whisky and sloe gin over the counter for a white poli- tician who owned the saloon and cabaret. Under the counter he conducted a little business of his own, curing heart miseries and mind sores and love failings with the crystal-white dream dust that comes up the Big River from New Orleans. A lone customer entered and pounded the bar. His glance strayed to Big Edna. “‘ Whassa matter, yalla gal?”’ he asked. “Why don’t you mess us up some music?” took his band to Broadway and tarted all the trouble by intro- jucing The Memphis Blues. Of course, Captain Tom Blood could be wrong, but he’ll tell you that years before the first blues were whistled by 2 younger generation that—to hear him—was eternally iamned long before it was born, Pappy Blue Boy sat on the muddy banks of the Big River and played The Memphis Blues, St. Louis Blues, and about a hundred other blues that have since made scores of young composers along Tin Pan Alley rich and famous. Captain Tom will tell u that Pappy Blue Boy would just sit on the bank with his feet in the water, and that the blue notes would me out of the water, travel up Pappy Blue Boy’s old ack legs into his body, down his arms and finally they'd ome out of the battered old fiddle—the sweetest and yet the bluest tunes any man ever heard. You don’t believe the Big River cradled the blues? All right, you just go and sit on the edge of the bridge at Mem- phis some night and listen. Or anywhere south of Mem- North of Memphis the Big River doesn’t sing blue Up around St. Louis she seems to be too busy get- ng started on the long trip to the Gulf. She sings, but a busy, bustling music. And she keeps up a fast tune intil she gets nearly to Memphis. But nearing Memphis he music of the Big River gets slower; a lonesome blue note enters her song. And after she leaves Memphis her ne gets bluer and slower, slower and bluer, until by the **De Cotton Man, He Do it,’” She Muttered, as Though to Steel Herself, ‘‘an’ Old Squire Donaldson" time she passes New Orleans she’s sobbing and crying as if her muddy old heart would break. At least, that’s the story that Captain Tom and Pappy Blue Boy would tell you. And who knows better, both hav- ing traveled the Big River from one end to the other for years and years, and loving her as they should have loved their wives, but didn’t—neither being married? Wherever the Blues came from originally, everybody will admit that Pappy Blue Boy brought them to Mem- phis to be suckled. Long before he died and was buried with his old fiddle on the river bank down below Vicksburg, he had taught Big Edna all the lonesome tunes the Big River had taught him. When he came to Memphis, Big Edna would feed him hog and hominy and let him sleep in the rear room of Mistuh Freddy’s Place. And long hours she'd sit and listen while he played his lonesome tunes. Now, with Pappy Blue Boy dead, Big Edna’s fame as a jig-song warbler became great. Of course she wasn’t famous among the white folks. Her street had not yet inaugurated White Night. That was to come later, after Mr. Handy had taken his band to Broadway. But along the street Big Edna was famous. As befits the famous, the patrons of Mistuh Freddy’s Place had built a throne for her—a huge chair of solid oak, “Trouble, li’l’ boy,”’ Big Edna mumbled sleepily. ‘‘ Me, I got me plenty trouble.” Grandly the customer flipped a half dollar to the piano top. Big Edna’s eyelids barely flickered, her big head re- mained resting on her bosom. “Got me mo’ dan fo’ bits’ wuth o’ trouble,” she said wearily. A bill replaced the coin. Slowly Big Edna raised her huge body out of the chair. She waddled to a door in the rear. ‘Me, I retires’ —she grinned—‘“I retires to vanish dese troubles.” She was back in a few seconds, eyes flashing, thick lips smiling. She walked with a swing, carrying her heavy body easily, gracefully. Cocaine will do that. The big woman’s fingers were light and swift now. They tripped over the yellow keys airily and the monotonous thumping of a moment before took on personality, a lone- some, sorrowful tune, weepy and graveyardish; yet carry- ing with it an allegro movement that quite overshadowed the melancholia of the piece. Under Big Edna’s caress the melody came out of the old piano with none of the clang and jangle of jazz, but soft and gentle like the heart of the race in which it was born. It was a lament in jig time, happiness mixed with sorrow pouring forth in soothing dance doses. She sang in a high, clear voice: “Trouble, Trouble, Trou-ble, Trou-ble— It sleeps in my bed. t > e ——

Page 29

em ee ne ee —— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 27 Sometimes I know that Trou-ble Will follow me till I’m dead. Mistuh Freddy is a good man, But he just won't be-have. Mistuh Freddy is a good man, But he just won't be-have. Gits me a shotgun, Sends him to his fa-tal grave.” In a high, clear voice Big Edna sang her troubles to a merry world and laughed, just as all her race have always laughed at trouble. The cabaret was filling now. Soon the girls would ar- rive and Big Edna would take up her official duties as mammy boss, a forerunner of the New York night-club hostess. But now she sang jig songs; most of them de- tailing the terrible philandering of Mistuh Freddy. In her songs she slew him with shotguns, cut his throat from ear to ear, gave him up to the white trash across the Big River to be hanged. Mistuh Freddy, busy now behind the bar, grinned and sang also. Outside, the street throbbed with black life and black music. The people, fresh from the day’s work, were on the promenade. Blacks from the great plantations in the delta, wearing clean, cotton-fieldish white denims. Rangy, lanky blacks from the Ozarks, hungry-looking and catlike. Negroes from up North, carrying canes and sporting tai- lored clothes. Levee workers, great, husky men with purring laughs and soft voices. Girls walking along the sidewalk, white powder grotesquely graying black faces. Yellow girls rouged to a startling pink. Girls lounging along the curb, eagerly watching the crowd. Black, yellow, brown, high-brown, high-yellow—a maelstrom of color whirling and eddying along a dingy, narrow street that was then the black man’s metropolis. Laughter and music. Music upstairs and downstairs. An organ built for church hymns sobbing with jig music. Everywhere the minor-chord music—the dum-dum-dum that was to form the basis of the craziest music craze the world had ever known. And then one day Mistuh Freddy fled to New York. The trip was not made voluntarily. What preceded his de- parture is not germane to this yarn except as it serves to send Mistuh Freddy on his way; but a word of it to show the why of Freddy’s departure. As it happened, one Sammy Holman dropped into Memphis with a gaudy yellow suitcase. He slipped into the back door of Mistuh Freddy’s one midnight and very cautiously opened the suitcase. “It’s yourn, cheap,” he whispered, “‘ because she’s hot.” It was cheap—twenty ounces of Mistuh Freddy’s favor- ite juju powder. They traded. And one hour later Mistuh Freddy was in a cell charged with possessing narcotics. What matter if the stuff proved, upon analysis, to be nothing more powerful than lump chalk charged with quinine to give it taste? He was turned loose, of course, because there is no law prohibiting the possession of lump chalk. But a boy with any pride could not stay on in that neighborhood after having been such a sucker. And then he had been warned that the load was getting heavy; he had better lay it down. So Mistuh Freddy was leaving. He had heard a wise, up-North Negro speak of a place called Harlem, where the blacks of the world were gathering. “‘Some day Harlem will be the Black capital,”’ the wise one had told him. He decided he would go there. Big Edna's heart was heavy. She loved the little black man and she was none too sure of his fidelity. New York was so far away. She steeled herself when he came to go. She was a study in indifference while the heart inside her big, yellow body was »reaking. She told him she was sorry he had to go, but that a fool nigger that pulled the stunt he did ought to be run out of town. Mistuh Freddy looked uncertainly at the huge woman lounging in the big chair, smiling up at him. His heart was icy. His eyes filled. He started to speak, but choked up Head down, he turned to go, shuffling toward the door The voice of his wife in song stopped him “Come here, my baby, Set yo'self on mamma's knee.” He grinned sheepishly and came back to sit down in the huge lap and cuddle close, like a small child who has been whipped and forgiven. The big, yellow arms enfolded him and Big Edna crooned: “‘Some o’ dese days dey’!! be plenty sunshine an’ roses— plenty sunshine, plenty roses for Mis- tuh Freddy and his big, fat gal. But now us has got trouble.” The bare arms tightened for an instant, the great yellow face twitched in pain. Then a smile broke through tears and Big Edna pushed him roughly away. “Git goin’, honey,” she ordered gently. ‘Git goin’.”’ Mistuh Freddy slipped through the door. He glanced back once and saw Big Edna bent low over the old piano, eyes big with glistening tears. And before he was swallowed up in the crowd, he heard her singing: “ Mistuh Freddy is a good man, But he just won't be true; He'll take all yo’ money An’ stay away from you.” Out through her throat her heart came and followed Mistuh Freddy, who was speeding north in a Jim Crow car. And the next day big Edna was gone. Harlem was growing black. Like a great blotter, it sat on Manhattan, slowly sucking toward it all the foot-looee color of the nation. And on an invisible throne where she could scan the new black faces as the Subway belched (Continued on Page 193) 7 ty UNE, %. q { 7 . BS ye “*Ev’body Shorty Gawge Wid Big Edna,’’ She Shouted

Page 30

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST fh, Te IL By Earl Derr Biggers ITLLUSTRATED

May 25,1929 Br F. GRUGER

;

He Regarded Her With Sudden Interest. “' Vv OR a long moment Chan stood with that fragment f letter in his hand. His expression was calm and unruffled, a very inaccurate indication of what was gcing on in his heart. Before a room filled with people some person had tricked and therefore disgraced the fa- mous detective of the Honolulu police. Charlie Chan had ost face in the presence of seven witnesses. Though he had lived many years in Hawaii, he was still Oriental enough to feel a hot, bitter anger that startled even himself. He sought to conquer that feeling immediately. Anger, he had been taught, is a poison that destroys the mind, and he would have need of all his faculties in the ordeal that impended. In this affair he was face to face with an adversary who was not only in a desperate mood but who was also clever and quick to act. Well, so much the better, Charlie told hbienes lf; he would find ali the more satisfac- t n defeating such an opponent in the end. For he would win out; on that he was fiercely determined. The person unknown who had killed, first Denny Mayo, and then, to protect that secret, Shelah Fane, would be brought to justice at last, or Inspector Chan could never find peace yair Tarneverro was glaring at him with ill-concealed indig- nation. “So sorry,” he remarked coldly, “but the police are in charge here now.” Chan nodded. “‘You are eminently correct in that neer. Never before in my life has such a happening aroused itself in my path. But I give you my word”—he »oked slowly round the little group—‘‘the person who ick that blow will pay. I am in no mood that turns e other cheek tonight.” He took out his handkerchief and applied it to the cheek that had, unfortunately, been already turned. It did not ed the trace of red on the white linen to tell him that the hand that had hit him wore aring. His right cheek Something is Missing?"’ ‘‘Yes, an Emerald Ring—a Large Emerald That Miss Fane Usually Wore’’ then the blow had probably been struck by someone’s left hand. On the left hand of Van Horn he noted a large seal ring; he turned to Wilkie Ballou, and on that gentle- man’s left hand he caught the glint of adiamond. Covertly he pursued his study; Bradshaw, Martino, Tarneverro and Jaynes were all innocent of jewelry. Tarneverro held his arms aloft. “You may start with e,”’ he said. “You are, of course, going to search every- one in this room.” Charlie smiled. “‘I am not quite such fool as that. Per- son who favored me with vigorous blow is not likely to hold incriminating letter in guilty possession. Besides,” he added casually as he walked away, “‘the matter is of small importance anyhow.” Tarneverro lowered his arms. It was quite evident from his expression that he heartily disapproved Charlie’s omis- sion of what he considered an essential move. But Chan ignored him. The detective was making a swift examina- tion of the cord which stretched from the lamp to an electrical socket a few inches above the floor. The plug, wrenched from its place, lay before him, its two protruding prongs mute evidence that its removal had been a simple matter. It had only been necessary to step on the cord anywhere along its length, move the foot a short distance away from the wall, and the thing was done. Simple, yes, but a bit of quick thinking on someone’s part. Charlie re- stored the plug and the lamp flashed on again. He came back to the center of the room. “We waste no time in fruitless search for letter now,” he remarked. “I propose instead to fix in my mind our little group of characters, and perhaps learn from their lips just what they were engaged in doing at two minutes past eight tonight.” He stood, gazing at them thoughtfully. “TI have some hesitation where to begin. . . . Mr. Ballou, yours is familiar face, so I will start in your vicinity. Will you kindly state position in this house of yourself and Mrs. Ballou?” The millionaire looked at him with all the arrogance of the white man who has lived for a long time among what he considers inferior races. “Why should I do that?”’ he inquired carelessly. “Murder has been committed,” replied Charlie sternly. “T recognize your high position on this island, but you are not above question. Will you deign to reply, please?’’ “‘We came here as dinner guests,” Ballou said. ‘‘We are—we were—old friends of Miss Fane’s.” “You knew her in Hollywood?” “Te.” “Mrs. Ballou was, before her marriage to yuu, herself actress on famous silver screen?” “What if she was?”’ flared Ballou. “Why not be polite, Wilkie?” rebuked his wife. “Yes, inspector, I was in the pictures, under the name of Rita Montaine. And if I do say it, I was rather well-known.” Chan bowed. “Could one of your charm be otherwise? May I inquire, please, how long you have been married?”’ “Three years this month,”’ she told him amiably. “You resided, perhaps, in Hollywood up to moment of your marriage?”’ “Oh, yes.” “Do you recall —was Mr. Ballou in Hollywood for some time previous to that marriage?” “‘Yes, he hung around for several months, pleading with me to give up my career and take him.” Her husband snorted. ‘“‘You may not recall it now, Wilkie, but you did.” “What the devil,” cried Ballou irritably, “‘has all that got to do with the murder of Shelah Fane? I believe, inspector, that you are exceeding your authority. You'd better be careful. I’m not without influence.” —< me + a | : i '

Page 31

- oa ee owes . —- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 29 “So sorry,” said Chan soothingly. “‘I will come at once to the present. You arrived here tonight at what hour?” “At 7:30,”" he answered. ‘“‘The dinner was not until 8:30, but Mrs. Ballou got the invitation over the tele- phone, and as usual’’—he glared at his wife—‘“‘she balled things up.” “At 7:30,” put in Chan hastily, cutting off Rita’s reply. “Describe actions down to present moment, please.” “What are you getting at?” objected Ballou reughly. “You don’t think I killed Shelah Fane, do you? By gad, I'll speak to someone down at the station about this. Do you know who I am?” “Oh, who are you, anyhow, Wilkie?” his wife put in wearily. ‘“‘Why not tell the inspector what he wants to know, and have done with it?’”’ She turned to Chan. “We arrived about 7:30, and after a little chat with Miss Fane, stepped out on the beach to watch the bathers. It was about a quarter to eight when we went out there, I imagine.” “You were engaged in this manner how long?” “‘ Answering for myself, I was on the beach until Jessop came out at 8:30. About ten minutes before thet, Mr. Van Horn joined us, and my husband got up and strolled toward the house.” “At two minutes past eight, then, yourself and husband were seated side by side on sand. You heard no cry or other indieation of disturbance?” “None at all. The two girls in the water were doing more or less screaming—you know how people will, But that’s not the sort of thing you mean, I take it?” “Not precisely,” replied Chan. “Thank you so much. We drop you for the present.” Julie O’Neill came slowly into the room. The new pink evening gown she had looked forward to wearing at the party was back on its hanger and she had donned a simple little gray chiffon. Her face was still decidedly paie, but she seemed calm and collected now. Chan turned *o her. “‘Good evening. I am so sorry to be here. Not until this moment have I encountered the pleasant thrill of seeing you. Would you mind informing me just who you are?” Bradshaw came forward. He introduced Julie to Chan, and went on to explain the girl’s place in the household ““My heart’s deepest sympathy,” Charlie remarked. “‘As mere matter of form, I must ask about your actions during this most tragic evening.” “T can tell you all about that,” Bradshaw informed him, “and kill two birds—oh, sorry—I mean to say, give you my own story at the same time. I arrived at the house early for a swim with Miss O'Neill. The last time we saw Miss Fane was in this room when we came down dressed for the water—that was about 7:40. She was here with Mr. and Mrs. Ballou, and Mr. Jaynes.” “You went immediately to the beach?” “‘We did—and on into the water. It was marvelous pardon me if I put in a small advertisement for the local bathing beach. What I mean to say is, Miss O'Neill and I were together from the time we saw Miss Fane until about 8:30, when Jessop rang the gong calling us in. It was soon after that we made our unhappy discovery.” “You remained in water at all times?’’ Chan inquired. “Oh, no, we came back to the beach now and then. Mrs. Ballou was there from the start, as she says. Mr. Ballou disappeared toward the last, and Mr. Van Horn showed up. “At two minutes past eight, then, you and Miss Julie were either in water or making brief excursion to shore?” “One or the other—we had no means of knowing the time, of course. It went very quickly. We were surprised when Jessop called us ‘n.”’ Chan turned to the girl. “‘Miss Fane was wearing to- night pretty nice bouquet of orchids on shoulder?” Julie nodded. “ Yes.” “Fastened with pin, no doubt “Of course.” “Did you by any chance note the pin?’ “No, I didn’t. But I remember her saying she was go- ing to her room to get one. Perhaps her maid can tell you about that.” 9" A Shocked Silence Greeted His “Are you in position to know who it was sent those orchids?” “TI am,” Julie replied. “‘There was no name, but M Fane recognized the writing on the card. She said they came from her ex-husband, Bob somebod he’s an actor playing with a stock company in Honolu “Bob Fyfe,” explained Rita Ballou. “ He's in the com pany down at the Royal. They were married when Shelal was quite young, and I believe she was always very fond of him, even after their divorce.’ Alan Jaynes rose, and taking a smal! cigar from a case, lighted it, then walked nervously about the room, seeking a place to throw the match “A discarded husband,”’ mused Charlie. “Ah, yes, I T"} would expect at least one of those. 7 man sh notified at once, and arrive here with all speed possib “T'll attend to it, Charlie,” offered Jimmy Bradshaw “Warmest thanks,”” Chan remarked. As the boy left the room he turned to the others. “‘We now resume somewhat rude questioning. Mr. Van Horn, you are actor, perhaps?”’ “Perhaps?” laughed Van Horn. “ Weli, that's flatter- ing. The reward of ten years’ hard work.” “You have, then, been in Hollywood for the past ten years?” “Ten years and a half—lost in what the amiable Mr. Mencken calls the sewers of Hollywood.” “‘And before that?” “Oh, before that I led a most romantic life—ask my press agent.” “IT seek to determine facts,"’ Charlie said “In that case I shall have to tell you that I came there, wide-eyed and innocent, from an engineering school. I planned to build bridges, but my fatal beauty intervened.” “You have appeared with Miss Shelah Fane in other pictures before this one?”’ “No.” Van Horn grew more serious. “I searcely knew her until I was engaged for this part.” “I do not need to ask where you were at two minute past eight tonight,’’ Chan continued Continued on Page 135 Words. Caim, Unmoved, Quite Motiontess, Chan Stared Into the Man's Face

Page 32

30 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By Joseph Hergesheimer ILLUSTRATED Br WILLIAMS c. D. * IS wife said that the bare idea of a radio in the house was more than she could abide. Horrible noisy things! That, her manner pro- claimed, was the end of that. They were at supper in the dining room; an additional fact not at all to be taken for granted. The dining rocm was small and dark in spite of a slight bay window, there was a gleam of questionable golden oak in it, a sodden glimmer of old red car- pet, and it was almost too full of extraneous bjects to allow any passage at all from the kitchen. The bay win- dow was completely filled with a dilapi- dated baby carriage— Ellis, the youngest Livsey child, was nine—and the baby carriage was full of a long-accumulated mis- cellany. Mrs. Livsey kept her curling iron anda great many other details of her toilet on the golden-oak side- board. A table by the kitchen door was occupied by the elegant scented details of Rosemunda Livsey’s correspondence. Rosemunda com- monly had freshly pressed dresses hanging from the light fixtures on the walls. The floor more often than not was largely occupied by Ellis’ large police-patrol wagon. James Corcoran Livsey, who was eighteen, said to his mother: “I don’t know as you're right. There’s Ben Bernie and The Mediterraneans and the Palace dor and a lot of swell music.” All this made no impression on Addie Livsey. She merely repeated the word “noisy.”” She was a fat woman, very blond, and thought better than well of herself. Her mother had been in the theatrical profession, and that fact made her easily superior to all the circumstances and people with which fate had later surrounded her. Rose- munda, a year younger than James Corcoran Livsey, gazed disdainfully at her brother. “All you think of is dancing,” she proceeded. “The whole world is just a dance hall to you. There ain’t any- thing elevating in your ideas of life. You're just a cake- eater!”’ “What's that?” John Livsey asked his family col- lectively. ‘‘What is a cake-eater?”” Rosemunda told him: “A cake-eater is the reverse of a collegiate. That’s what a cake-eater is. He wears soft shoes and tight clothes and dances very passionate. Just opposite from a collegiate. He wears wide pants and no garters and is careless all around. The cake-eaters hate the collegiates, but what the collegiates think of the cake-eaters is nobody’s busi- ness.” “Is that right?” Livsey asked his son. “I noticed your pants were pretty tight, and you don’t make no sound when you walk.” “ Approximately,” »James Corcoran Livsey replied. “Something like that. If all you look at is the surface. If you don’t get to the heart of things, Rosemunda is correct.” “A cake-eater don't want to work,”’ Rosemunda added. “T've noticed that,”” John Livsey admitted. ‘He works too hard as it is,’ Addie corrected him. ‘You're use to work. It don’t hurt you none. Goodness knows what it would be like around here if you weren’t IS away sometime. But it’s different with James. You for- get he has my blood in him. His maternal grandmother was an artist. An artiste! You ought to encourage him in his dancing. Before you know it James will get a big engagement on the stage. If we got any chance at all, it will be James. Nobody could call you a chance today.” “TI don’t know,” John Livsey said; “I’ve been with the one firm twenty-eight years. That’s not so bad in this life of cake-eaters and college boys. I get a good salary and I’m pretty free to say what I want at the store. I didn’t like the window last month and I went right up to Henry Plantner. I said, ‘I don’t like the window, Henry.’ I said that, and he was the old man’s son. He’s as good as the old man right now. Well, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘John, why not?’ Gideon Plantner’s son, that was. I just told him—I said, ‘Here it is the late fall and the window is full of hardware. You want to play up the sporting goods. Rifles and shotguns and big shining reels for Florida and red sweaters and coats for rabbit hunting. You want to get out of the city in the fall,’ I told him. *You want to get away from plumbing and the like. And then, later, I’d run the new line of Horizon radios in the window.’ ”’ “There you are,” Addie Livsey interrupted him. “I wondered how long it would take you to get back to ra- dios.” Her husband fell silent. “Radios,” she pro- ceeded—‘‘when did a person ever get anything out of them she wanted to hear? I like music too much to bear them. Anybody who likes music can’t stand a radio. I’ve heard fifty say so. I just can’t endure one. When would you get your sleep with James playing the dance numbers all night? When would you get any peace? Tell me that. Besides, I’ve heard them. The Smysers have one and they are always working at it and it’s never right. When it is right the night is wrong. And if they do get.a piece you could listen to for a minute, they turn it right off and on to something else. A person who has a radio is never satis- fied with what he is hearing. Still, there is no good going on about it. We’re not the Smysers and making ninety dollars a week. There'll be no radio in this house with things like they are. I just get tired of hearing about it.” Rosemunda tenderly pressed down the dark flat curl that decorated each cheek. “Practically everyone has May 25,1929 *‘Ah, Don't be Funny. I Teli You I Got to Have Two Hundred Dollars. Quick. You're My Father, Ain't You?"’ them,” she said languidly. ‘“‘You hear them everywhere you go. At least I do. It’s a sign of the times. But I wouldn’t expect one in this lousy house. There’s nothing in this lousy house you'd expect would be here. Just look at this dining room, will you, with that rotten baby car- riage in the window full of rotten what nots? It’s been there forever. Look what’s on the sideboard ———”’ “There ain’t another mirror in the house with light by it,” her mother interrupted her. ‘ You know that well as I do. Can a person do her hair in the glass I got? I ask you in all fairness, can she? There ain’t a light in ten feet of it. The silver is all off the back as it is.” “Right now, if I’d go out in the kitchen,’”’ Rosemunda went relentlessly on, “I don’t know as I could finish my supper. I really don’t. Most of what was left from dinner is in the sink right this minute. I guess you're right about a radio. I don’t know how we would ever pay for it and I don’t know where it would go. Personally, I intend to move down near the office in the spring.” “You ain’t no such a thing!’ Addie Livsey exclaimed. “You're going to stay to be a good girl, if I know any- thing about it. You need a home influence. A pretty girl has got to have parents where she can lean on them.” “Home influence!’’ Rosemunda cried. “ Parents to lean on!”’ Her contempt took the form of a prolonged giggle. Her brother said, “‘ Don’t be so fresh.” “You can shut your mouth,” Rosemunda instructed him. “I guess I can speak when I want to. I work, at least. I work and earn good money and I'm a girl. You haven’t done a thing for six months. You tell it here you are looking for work. Yes, you are! All you do is wait around for that brass check you dance with. That is, when her husband is traveling. I hear about you at the cafés with her and eating everything you want and drink- ing out of her big silver flask. You pay the checks, too— with the money she slips you on the street.” “Now, Rosemunda,” her father remonstrated with her; “T don’t believe it’s as bad as that. You hadn’t ought to say that about your own brother.” Ellis Livsey called shrilly, “‘I found a tooth in my bread pudding.” He looked about, grinning, and then, after the pause secured by his announcement, added, “‘ Ah, gee, it was mine.” et erent — in So ws ————

Page 33

——— _-_— ~ a --~-- — a ee - w= — = 6s THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 31 In the subway, plunging illuminated through a crash- ing darkness, John Livsey’s thoughts hurried ahead to his daily work. He was a clerk in the hardware store of Gideon Plantner and Son and, with the way things were at present, he had to keep his wits about him. He did for a fact. Gideon Plantner and Son—chiefly, now, due to Henry, the son—had grown very successful; their busi- ness had doubled, and doubled again, since the war in Europe, and it showed no signs of stopping. Gideon Plantner, who was old, came down to the store pretty near every day; he looked over the books and he looked over the stock, but it amounted to no more than that. Henry was responsible for all the new departures— he had brought the sporting goods up from a few doubtful revolvers, a fishing rod or so, until it occupied almost one-fifth of the whole store. There was, now, a great variety of revolvers and pistols, American and German; automatic pistols that could be turned into short rifles. They lay within a glass case, dark with bluing and shining with burnished steel, fascinating and dangerous. John Livsey often looked at the amazing stock of revolvers—he thought of them all mostly as revolvers—in amazing unfamiliar shapes. They were so flat! He gazed at them and thought of the late war, of Germans in double-breasted gray overcoats, of Americans in painted steel hats, and of Frenchmen with curled beards. The phrase, “the zero hour,” buzzed in his head like a portentous alarm clock. He thought of ma- chine guns and trenches and towns in France with French names. He thought of French girls John Livsey had never seen a French girl, but he was persuaded that they were different from all the other girls on the face of the earth. Gayer. Like his son, James Corcoran, they were always dancing. They danced and kicked up and showed their petticoats—they wore, it seemed, petticoats—and then at benches along the walls of cafés they drank champagne. Cheerful girls. Girls who didn’t take your head off if you offered to kiss them. Girls you wanted to kiss! Yes, sir. That was it. Girls who smelled of cologne. With bows on their garters. In short, girls. The pistols at Gideon Plantner and Son led him on to think of all that; the fishing tackle took his imagination in a totally different direction. In spring and late in the fall the fishing tackle captured John Livsey’s imagination: Especially in April. Men came in then to purchase fly rods; they put them together and delicately tried their swaying delicate arcs. The fly rods were made of split bamboo and they were tied with red and green and black silks. The reels were small and light, and the lines were silk and beautifully smooth. The lines for dry-fly fishing were coated with deer fat and they were double tapered. The flies were marvelous—brilliant minute splashes of feathered color. There were flies tied with silver, flies with silver bodies, and flies tied with gold. There was a fly called Scarlet Ibis and a Silver Doctor and gray and brown hackles. There were leader flies and droppers—he was at once familiar with all this and vague about it —and remarkable plugs for bass fishing. There were wooden plugs and metal plugs with joints, and white strips of pork in a bottle. There was gut for leaders, and tackle boxes and knives and leather books and long waders. For the spring. It was different in the late fall. Then men bought heavy rods, incredibly big hooks, the enormous reels, for fishing in the South. Or else, at the end of winter, they brought their tarpon rods and reels in to Gideon Plantner and Son to have them overhauled for the approaching tarpon season. In November they sold rifles—with a great talk of tra- jectory and muzzle velocity—for the open deer season. John Livsey heard the hunters talk about the mountains of Pennsylvania, the sea islands of South Carolina, the moose hunting of New Brunswick. The law, he would hear, was out on does for that year. Men returned from fishing and hunting and stopped in at Gideon Plantner and Son to relate their adventures and exploits to Henry Plantner. John Livsey, when it was possible, listened to them. “The moose stood looking at me and the guide shouted, ‘Crack down on him!’ Well, it was five hours before we found him. Tracked him by the blood on the snow.”’ Or else, “I gave it up and told the captain to go back to the landing. It was past midnight and the slack water was done for that tide. ‘Wait a minute, captain,’ I said; ‘my hook is caught on the bottom.’ ‘Bottom,’ he yelled—-‘bottom hell! That's a tarpon.’ And then, in the moonlight, he jumped.” The sporting-goods department, under Henry Plantner, was even more comprehensive; there was a wide selection of archery goods — bows a man couldn't bend unless he had the trick of it, arrows with steel points and different dyed feathers, targets—only they were called butts—and leather guards for your arm and fingers. Ladies came in to look at the archery goods. Mr. Bennington, who had {par charge of that department, strung the bows and the ladies tried pulling them back. Sometimes they fitted an arrow on the string and shot it for a few wabbling yards. Henry Plantner, if he was near, made a joke of that, about Cupid The bows and arrows, however, didn’t make John Livsey think about Cupid. They brought to his mind, vague and powerful, the English forest. The past. Men in bright green, with feathers in their caps, and long bows John Livsey thought of meadows and little towns wit} turrets and walls all made out of gray stones. The roofs were pointed. Men in a leafy forest with bows and arrows Men with shirts of steel links. Sparkling streams under banks of moss and violets. Nights wide with stars. Pin} daybreaks in summer and sunsets across the snow of December. Deep open fires and hot drinks with roasted apples in them. That was what bows and arrows made John Livsey think of. Hot drinks and crabapples It was different again about the games —the games didn't take hold of his imagination and no more did they flourish at Gideon Plantner and Son. Even Henry Plantner had failed to make the games move. Take golf; at one time a big shipment of golf clubs had arrived. A rack dividing one kind from another was constructed in a corner and a space left large enough to make swinging a golf club comparatively safe, but it had not been a success. Boxes of golf balls stayed on the shelves all through the summer, the clubs with metal heads quietly rusted. John Livsey could plainly see that there was nothing to golf. There just wasn't nothing to it. He was relieved when the clubs and balls, the fingerless gloves and boxes of pegs to set the balls up on, disappeared. Yes, Henry Plantner, at least there there anyhow—had been wrong. A game wasn't a thing that put you in mind of anything. Even the horse-racing games had no spirit to them. Little lead horses in grooves Tennis, where John Livsey, Gideon Plantner and Son, were concerned, was hardly better. For one racket you sold, a half dozen went loose in the strings. The peopie who came in to buy tennis supplies had nothing to say. John Livsey didn’t know a more uninteresting set of people. Anybody who played a regular game-—as a practice, that was — was a nincompoop. He was willing to include games of cards That was, if you excepted poker. He could imagine rail- road magnates playing poker in their silk shirt sleeves, moving forward over green baize green and yellow stacks of chips. Highballs! A thousand dollars and not a quiver Seventy thousand. Railroads and steamship companies (Continued on Page 80 Rosemunda Said, ‘‘That’s the First I Ever Heard You Say Anything With Any Nerve to It. You're Usually Afraid to Speak"’

Page 34

32 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

Re FOUNDED A‘D‘ 1728 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY *F THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY INDEPENDENCE SQUARE PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA, U.S.A. GEORGE HORACE LORIMER, EDITOR in the United States and Possessions. Five Cents the Copy; $2.60 the Year— 52 sees Remittances by Postel Money Order, Express Money Order or Check In Canada and Newfoundiand (including Labrador), Ten Cents the Copy ; $3.06 the Veer— 42 issues— Canadian or U. S. Funds. In Continental Europe and the British Isles, $6.00 the Vear—52 issues. ta Argentine. Bolivie, Brazil. Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Cuba. Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Guatemala, Haiti, Isle of Pines, Mexico, Nicaragua Paneme, Paraguay, Peru. Republic of Honduras, Salvador, Uruguay and Venervela. $6.06 the Year—§) issues. In aff other Foreign Countries, $19.08 the Year—52 issues. Remittances from outside U.S. and Canada by Postal or Express Money Order or by Draft on 2 bank in the U. S.. payable in U. 5. Funds. PHILADELPHIA, MAY 25, 1929

The Capital Gains Tax R. C. E. MITCHELL, president of the board of the Nationa! City Bank of New York, proposes to solve our harassing credit problem by the immediate repeal of the Federal tax upon capital gains arising from the sale of securities and the concurrent abolition of credits for Mr. Mitchell will find many to share his opinion that the tax on capital gains is one of the prime causes of present difficulties; that it has created artifici- ality in the security markets, in the credit structure and capital losses. in interest rates; that it has created scarcity values in stocks, which have forced up prices and have caused an enormous increase in the loan account. Every investor, great and small, has felt the secondary effect of this tax. The country teems with holders of se- curities who have paper profits, but who refuse to realize them on account of the burdensome tax to which they would render themselves liable. This means that they must call upon the banks to help them maintain their old holdings or to finance their new commitments. It means that current buyers must pay artificially stiff prices and must expect to see a constant expansion of the loan ac- count. It means that the whole securities market labors under an incubus which has the effect of putting a brake on free trading and prevents the natural turnover and interchange of securities. Mr. Mitchell appears to have searched as diligently for objections to his proposal as for considerations which favor its adoption. The obvious criticism is that the repeal of the tax on capital gains on securities would do away with a proportion of our national revenue, which would have to be replaced by levies in other quarters. Turning to the figures for the year 1927, which are the latest available—a year of rising prices and great stock-market activity —it is seen that capital gains, including those upon re«! estate as well as those upon stocks and bonds, amounted to only ten per cent of our total reported individual and corporation in- comes. It seems likely, moreover, that any resultant loss from the repeal of this tax would be compensated for by taxpayers’ inability to take credit for capital losses. The Treasury Department, ever sensitive to any change of policy which might have a tendency to lower its rev- enues, entertains no fears of the results of a repeal of this tax. Year after year this department, in its annual re- ports, has been directing attention to the inequity, un- wisdom and economic unsoundness of this tax, giving clean-cut reasons for its opposition to it. Every member of Congress should give Mr. Mitchell’s brief the thorough and careful study to which it is entitled. Existing credit conditions are a real menace to the highest prosperity of the country, and they are likely to become still more threatening if wise and well-thought-out correc- tive measures are not promptly applied. The Dominant Issue RESIDENT HOOVER was unquestionably right in saying, in his New York address to the press, that the dominant issue before the American people is the enforce- ment of and obedience to the laws of the United States, both Federal and state. The President’s remarks were well documented. As usual, he had the facts and the figures. He reminded us that more than nine thousand human beings are lawlessly killed in the United States each year; that little more than half as many arrests follow; that less than one-sixth of these slayers are convicted. He rubbed in other prickly statis- ties, such as the records which show that in proportion to population there are twenty times as many homicides in the United States as in Great Britain; that, proportionally to population, burglaries are three times as common here, and robberies are fifty times as numerous; that murders can apparently be committed with impunity, and such crimes as embezzlement and forgery thrive unchecked. For years the country has been discussing and denounc- ing the conditions so strikingly set forth and has even made some scattered and puny efforts to combat them; but nothing like a whole-hearted, nation-wide drive on crime has yet been launched. We hail with somewhat tempered enthusiasm Mr. Hoover's expressed intention to appoint a commission to study and report upon the whole of our problems involved in criminal law and its enforcement. There is no reason for doubting that the personnel of this body will command the respect of the country for its wisdom, integrity and technical acumen. There is no ground for the supposition that it will not do careful, thorough work and submit recommendations whose whole-hearted adoption would bring about a vast betterment of existing conditions; but there is small encouragement to believe that the result of its labors, after having been a nine days’ wonder and after having been commended by the press of the entire country, will not be tossed into the dust bin to keep company with similar studies and reports we have been reading and dis- regarding for the past generation. We have long known all that need be known to form an opinion as to the de- sirability or undesirability of prohibition, to simplify our criminal law, to expedite trials, and to thrust aside the barrier of technicalities that protects the professional crim- inal at the expense of society. The bitter truth of the matter is that too many of our criminal lawyers do not wish to see these reforms brought about. They will fight tooth and nail in the future, as they have in the past, to bring them to naught. A mot- ley army of machine politicians, corrupt police depart- ments, crooked contractors, dirty-work men, bootleggers, dope sellers, gangsters, promoters of commercialized vice and receivers of stolen goods, backed by the entire rank and file of the underworld, will stand shoulder to shoulder to resist any serious effort to make crime less safe or less profitable. If we fondly harbor the delusion that we are a free peo- ple, it is only because we close our eyes to what is going on around us and childishly underestimate the paralyzing strength of the unseen army which constitutes our vicious minority—an army which acts as one man because it is bound together by a common desire to go on making a liv- ing by defying the law and preying upon society. Arrayed against it is that larger army of decent citizens, right- thinking when it thinks at all, lukewarm and indifferent, too often smug in its own righteousness, content with hollow academic theories, prideful with shibboleths on our national greatness, and quaintly triumphant when some

May 25,1929 peculiarly bloodthirsty or careless criminal is brought to tardy justice. Whenever the country really wants law- enforcement instead of conversation about it, we shall have it. We have a President who sincerely desires it and has the will to go through with it. All that is needed isa little less softness on the part of the American people, and a little more clear thinking on the consequences of per- mitting present conditions to continue. Old: Age Security HE quickened interest in New York State in the prob- lem of old-age security is a healthy sign of public conscience. Expert opinions may difier concerning the wisest method of providing comfort for old people, but the reality of the obligation upon society and the individual becomes plainer as time goes on. Nor is it a question con- fined to any one social class. Secretary Davis and other students of wage conditions keep emphasizing the hardship upon laboring men who are displaced early in middle life. At the other end of the scale we have the disappoint- ments of the Carnegie system of pensions for college professors. As sanitation, public-health work and medical science keep an ever-increasing proportion of the elderly folks alive, financial provision must be made either by them- selves, by their children or by society in general for their later and unproductive years. Formerly old men and women lived on the farm and puttered around with the work. But they are expensive to support in city apart- ments, and the demand for younger workers puts the older ones on the shelf sooner than in the past. Of course, those who are able to save enough in their productive years in the form of bonds, stocks, real estate, life insurance, annuities or other kinds of property, present no problem. But many do not save; nor are all these of the lower manual wage earning classes by any means. There is a real danger at present that public opinion will be misled in respect to the solution of this problem. So much is being said in favor of state pensions that persons whose information on the subject is casual may jump to the conclusion that the only action needed is to put such sys- tems into effect. But state pensions can hardly be more than a substitute for or supplement to the present systems of poor relief. State pensions are essentially for indigents and paupers, and therefore have a limited scope, although important enough within those limits. State pensions provide a bare stipend of a dollar or so a day to very elderly people who have practically no other means of support. This may be a far better system than the present almshouse arrangement, but it holds little promise to enormous groups of the population, outside of protection against actual starvation. The state, indeed, can do little more than this. If it attempts to assure the great middle classes against pinching and discomfort in their later years, the burden upon the taxpayer will be utterly unbearable. Taxpayers and industry together—and they are often one and the same—must always provide for the feeble and aged at poverty levels. But how shall the middle and edu- cated groups be cared for? The problem calls for co- operative effort. The employer and the employe should make joint contributions to a fund to that end. Simple arithmetic demonstrates the value of such an arrangement. Besides, it has the advantage of providing pensions by right rather than by favor. The free pension system, what- ever motive may prompt it, is inherently unsound. As the number of employes and the size of their salaries increase, the employer or benefactor finds himself swamped. This is the difficulty with the Carnegie pension system. With an unexpected increase in the number of college teachers and the even more astonishing rise in salaries in the past ten years, it has become necessary to cut and cut, with consequent feelings of thwarted expectation. Thus industry and education both begin to realize that the sound system of pensions consists of a series of contractual annuities, based solely upon deposits or contributions ac- tually paid into a fund by both parties, all calculated upon a small but guaranteed rate of interest and based upon specified tables of mortality. —— a << —= = =~ = - :-

—

Page 35

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 33 T IS an odd fact, frequently commented upon by thoughtful observers, that most of the great plagues in history have crept on the world insidiously and without warning. Nobody notices that anything in particular is happening, until one day the populace wakes up to find the trouble full-blown in its midst. In the Middle Ages, for instance, everything was per- fectly peaceful and normal— knights jousting, swineherds tending pigs, landowners busy with soc and seizin and all that sort of thing—when one morning—on a Tuesday it was, six weeks come Lammas Eve-—a varlet, strolling along the road between Southampton and Winchester where the filling station is now——encountered a malapert knave and fell into conversation with him after the sociable fashion of those days. “How now?” quoth the varlet. “Ye same to you,” said the knave courteously. After which, as usually happens when two sons of the soil get together for a chat, there was a pause of about twenty minutes. At the end of this period the varlet spoke. “In my village there hath chancea a happening,” he said, ‘“‘which hath caused much marvel. Rummy, is ye general verdict. Old Bill of ye Mill sud- denly turned black yesterday.” “‘Black?”’ said the knave, wondering. “Black is right.” \ “Well, by St. James of Compostella, if \ this doth not beat ye band!”’ exclaimed the knave. “‘Down where I live, George ye Cowherd hath turned black too.’ “Thou dost not say!” St “Of a verity I do say.” “What can have caused this?”’ cried the varlet. om “I could not tell thee,” said the knave. v “T am a stranger in these parts myself.” And a week later the Black Death was all over the country, and a man who did not look like Al Jolson singing Sonny Boy could scarcely be found anywhere. Advice to My Son John N MUCH the same way, quietly and, as it were, surreptitiously, the present flood of mystery stories has engulfed the British Isles. Only a short time ago the evil appeared merely sporadic. Now we are up to our necks in the things, and more coming all the time. There seems to be some virus in the human system just now which causes the best writers to turn out thrillers. This would not matter so much, only, unfortunately, it causes the worst of writers to turn them out too. The result is that this royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, this earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, this other Eden, demiparadise, this fortress built by Nature for herself against infection and the hand of war, this happy breed of men, this little world, this precious stone set in the silver sea, which serves it in the office of a wall or as a moat de- fensive of a house—I need scarcely say that I allude to England — has degenerated into an asylum full of goofs reading one another’s detective stories. And ninety- nine out of every hundred a dud. A disquieting thought. A wrnrececis It does not seem to occur to the ordinary man how hard it is to do this sort of thing well. If I had a son who was thinking of writing mystery stories—and if I had a son of an age to hold a pen, that is certainly what he would be doing nowadays —I should take him aside and try to point out some of the difficulties lying in his path. “James—or John—”’ I should say, “think well! Never forget that over every mystery story there broods the shadow of a yawning reader saying ‘What of it?’ You tell him that Sir Gregory Bulstrode has been found murdered in his library. ‘Who cares?’ is his reply. You add that all the doors and windows were locked. “They always are,’ he says. ‘And suspicion points to at least half a dozen people!’ you scream. ‘Oh, well,’ he mumbles, dozing off, ‘it turns out in the end that one of them did it, I suppose?’’’ That is the trouble. For the mystery novel Suspicion Handicap, the field is i, limited. You know it wasn’t the hero or f the heroine who did the murder. You are Kine -—_ lystery Stories By P. G. WODEHOUSE DECORATION BY practically sure it couldn't have been Reggie Banks, because he is a comic character, and any vestige of humor in any character in a mystery story automatically rules him out as a poten- tial criminal. It can’t have been Uncle Joe, because he is explicitly stated to be kind to dogs. So you assume it must have been some totally uninteresting minor character who hardly ever appears and who is disclosed on the last page as the son of the inventor whom the murdered man swindled forty years ago. At any rate, you know quite well it’s one of them. Who Killed Sir Ralph? F I WERE writing a mystery story I would go boldly out for the big sensation. I would nct have the crime committed by anybody in the book at all. Here are the last few paragraphs of a little thing I could write in a couple of weeks if I had not a soul above this form of literature: “You say, Jerningham,” I gasped, “that you have solved this inscrutable problem? You really know who it was that stabbed Sir Ralph with the Oriental paper knife?” Travers Jerningham nodded curtly. I was astonished to see that he displayed none of . that satisfaction which one would naturally have expected. “I do,” he said “But you seem gloomy, Jerningham moody. Why is this?” ay “Because it is impossible to bring the crim- inals to justice.’ ee “Criminals? Was there more than one?” “There were two, Woodger. Two of the blackest-hearted menaces to society that ever clutched a knife handle. One heid Sir Ralph down, the other did the stabbing.”’ “But if you are so sure of this, how is it, Jerningham, that you cannot give the scoun- drels their just deserts?” Travers Jerningham laughed a bitter laugh. “Because, Woodger, they aren't in the book at all. The fiends were too cunning to let them- selves get beyond the title page. The murderers of Sir Ralph Rackstraw were Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton.” THE END That would be something like a punch. And it is (Continued on Page 187

Page 36

o4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HORT TURNS May 25, 1929 aoa ORAWN BY CARL ANDERSON First Love pt humorous the errors We make upon our way! You were the prologue, and “Good!” said I. ““Good! I love card tricks.” “Have you got a pack of cards?” “No.” “Well, how do you expect me to show you a card trick if you haven't got a pack of cards?” “T don’t know.” ‘“‘Of course, we have a pack of Onewn OY Fw err Mrs. Dimpiston (te Distinguished Head Master of Distinguished Boys’ Private Schoot): ‘‘Your School is Difficuit to Get Into, is it Not?*’ - “It is Considered So, Madam. An Early Application is cards,” interposed Most Advisable. Do You Wish to Enter Your Boy?”’ the wife. “‘ Don’t you “If I Have a Boy."’ ‘es I thought you were the play! The Card Trick “T’LL show you a card trick,” said Oswald as the cards, colored crayons, ink, mucilage and scissors. conversation stalled for the seventh time. ORAWN BY A.B. FULLER Indignant Parent: ‘‘Young Man, What Do You Mean by Kissing My Daughter?” believe him, Oswald. He's always that way. We have sev- eral packs of cards. Unless the children have got into them.” The wife looked for the packs of cards in the desk drawer. The children had indeed got into them. They had evi- dently been playing some game requiring five packs of Mary Carolyn Davies. Continued on Page 109) ORABN BY DONALD WC KEE Passer-by: ‘‘What'’s the Excitement Here?’’ ‘That Bird's From Chicago!"' ORAWN BY ROBERT L. DICKEY How the Daimatian Got Her Spots

Page 37

ICTURE to yourself that vast throng of women who, every day throughout the United States, set out to do their marketing for the family table. How anxious they are to obtain the most delicious food! How quick and clever they are to sense what other women are buying—and why! Everywhere, they cannot fail to notice that Campbell’s Beans are selected the oftenest and so make their way to more family tables than any other beans. Daily at the actual “point of purchase” in the stores, this great army of buyers gets its real proof of popularity in beans. Nothing succeeds like Quality! Slow-cooked THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The best-liked beans oe” . in America! BEANS 1 WIth tomato SAUCE CAMPRELL Soup COMPANY AMDEN.N.J.USA People have learned to expect of Campbell's a higher standard of Quality —a greater originality—a deliciousness that is unique. They find them in Campbell’s Beans. With all their latest perfection, these slow-cooked beans have that nut-like, golden brown mellowness you cannot resist. Each bean whole, yet tender! Each bean flavored through and through with Campbell's famous tomato sauce! Let your family enjoy regularly the beans which lead all others in popularity —the beans which have that special kind of goodness everyone associates with the name Campbell's! Golden Brown

Page 38

36 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ave Them What They Wante« May 25,1929 a On the Following Day My Office Was Crowded With Anxious Friends and Retatives of Imprisoned Men and Women Vv HE next gubernatorial campaign | opened earlier than usual and with political conditions in a state of confusion. However, that suited Mike, as it would any boss. Definite align- ments based upon one really important paramount issue always work against the power of a political machine. The governor easily obtained his nomination to run for reélec- tion, and similarly, Darling, the speaker of the house, was nominated with only slight opposition to run against him. There was one independent candidate in the field, but he had run twice before without cutting much of a figure, so we did not pay a great deal of attention to him. His strength, we estimated, would be greater than it had been in the previous election, but that was more than agreeable to Mike, because it would help to divide the rural vote and thus give greater importance to our city vote. The governor seemed to take it for granted that Mike and I would support him; indeed, that we were already pledged to do so. Darling also assumed that he had our support. The longer they proceeded under this impression the better the trading would be when the time came for a show-down. Out of the confusion and lack of a paramount issue one ominous fact protruded, a fact that we ought to have recognized sooner than we did. It was that the rural voters were keenly interested three months before election day, while the city voters scarcely seemed to realize that this would be an election year. Ordinarily no such divi- sion of interest would be noted; either a campaign was red-hot or it was dull for both Main Street and the country crossroads. I judged that the growing enthusiasm for prohibition in the rural districts accounted for this phenomenon, and so did Mike, but we saw no occasion for alarm in that fact, since both Darling and the governor were ready to straddle this issue, as they had done more than once before. All three of the candidates were nominally prohibitionists. Mike smiled about that, and so did I, but we would have been wiser had we pondered the fact that this was the first gubernatorial campaign in our state that found no cham- pion of the wets on the stump. They were now definitely a minority —still strong, to be sure, but trading where once they had unfurled banners. By CHESTER T. CROWELL TLLUVUSTRATEDO ar ORISOWN When he thought the time was ripe, Mike went to the capital to see the governor and have a show-down. He wanted to be sure that there would be no vetoes interfering with the program of state highway construction that we had determined upon. Callaghan, as I have explained before, was really fanatical on the subject of good roads, but there was always a high percentage of method in any madness that afflicted him; road building would mean the extension of his political power. The governor saw this at once and objected. As a matter of fact, he also feared that Mike planned an era of wholesale graft. In that he was mistaken, but even without graft the program would increase the state’s budget and thus decrease the gover- nor’s strength in the rural districts. He planned to run for United States senator after one more term as governor. There was widespread resentment against the steadily ris- ing cost of government, but most of the outspoken protest could be heard only in remote agricultural counties. Mike wasn’t well acquainted with them. It struck him as absurdly presumptuous for the governor to assume that he had our machine’s support without promising anything in return, and he said so with characteristic bluntness. “T let you run things in your own bailiwick, don’t I?” the governor argued. Mike nearly burst a blood vessel. ‘You let me!” he shouted. “Why, you couldn’t even hire a hall to speak in my bailiwick if I didn’t want you there. That’s how you let me. If you think that’s the basis on which we are trading, it’s time for a show-down. You can make the road program the paramount issue and be elected on it, or you can pass it up and I'll elect Darling.” “That suits me right down to the ground,” the governor answered, and the conference was over. Mike called me by lorig-distance telephone and asked me to get in touch with Darling at once so that we could have our show- down with him before any rumors about that day’s doings could reach him. I did so and Darling came at once. He was eager for a definite understanding. MACPHERSOWN The three of us went into session in Mike’s little private office and Mike began by outlining his road program. He wanted it placed before the people by the victorious candidate for governor, so that it would have plenty of legislative support. ‘‘I’ll tell you,"’ Darling said, hedging, “that isn’t exactly what the country people want. It isn’t what they’re talking about. Of course the roads would be a fine thing and I think we ought to do something along that line, but the thing they’re talking about is regulation of corporations, lower taxes and fewer laws. Especially about lower taxes.” “Well, you can’t make a campaign on those issues,”’ Mike argued, ‘“‘because that’s the kind of stuff that inde- pendent fellow has been bellowing about for the past six years. He hasn't got anywhere with it. I wouldn’t let myself be sidetracked by the other fellow’s stuff. Come right out into the open with some of your own. Promise them lower taxes and more roads at the same time. Tell *em you'll save the money for the roads by a better admin- istration. They think that can be done. I’m not sure it can’t either. Of course we won't lower the taxes, but we needn’t raise them much. And when they get the roads they’ll be satisfied. It’s funny how farmers yell for lower taxes. Nobody ever got lower taxes. It just isn’t done, that’s all. Taxes are like cornstalks; they grow up, not down. It isn’t human to lower taxes. They surely know that. I wouldn’t pay too much attention to their blather. A candidate going around wailing about high taxes and how he’ll lower them and save the poor people from starva- tion always sounds too much like a Socialist. Tell them what a great state they live in and that it hasn’t got near enough foads for its enormous commerce; tell ’em the city people have got paved streets and that, by jingoes, the country people are going to have paved roads. That sounds much better than pulling a poor mouth.” Darling laughed. “Ordinarily you'd be right,”’ he said, “but this year the country people are all wrought up and hot under the collar and milling around.” “*What are they hot about?” Mike asked. “T don’t know,” Darling admitted. ‘“They’ve got politi- cal prickly heat and they’re itching to get to the polls and (Continued on Page 38) ——— = = — a a ee a = eee

Page 39

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 37 Oasis "y hr resh—that’s how this butter comes to you! It is delivered by Swift & Company directly to your dealer, straight from the heart of selected dairy regions. So quickly that none of the first sweetness of the tested, graded cream is lost. Swift standards of purity and cleanli- ness guard it all the way. A nation-wide Swift service enables you to buy it fresh anywhere — Brookfield Creamery Butter! Swift & Company Ne ss is Le ef voy ¥ rf y so Brookfield % Farm and Dairy Products iss ae a PONE ae Se ie, ye Py : ; %., rs ey : ne on" Mig vy ; at ob ¥ 4 f ’ Look for the identify- ing label when buying : Pn tam Brookfield Milk-Fed veatee 4 ay Chickens. - These famous packages identify Brookfield quality for you G83... & Ss F-B 6-8 + 8 OU LTR F

Page 40

38 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 36 te against mething. They're not going to vote for anything this year That’s bad,” Mike mused. “Still, nobody in his right mind tes aga t good roads.” ‘I'll tell you what let’s do,” Darling proposed. “I'll promise them the roads and you deliver me this county and se with that dynamite about the blind asylum. That'll blast the governor out of the race and I ought to win. The road program won't help me any, so I can’t bear wn hard on it, but I'll use enough of it to pledge my 9 administration. How does that suit you ‘Fair and square,’ Mike said. We then teok up the matter of campaign expenses and uther details. The bargain was definitely closed. And now I knew that I would not be supporting my friend, the gov- ernor, for *eélection. In practical politics real friendships are almost impossible. Of the men you meet, more than half are on their way to political oblivion. Trying to build up a wide circle of warm acquaintance with some sem- blance of friendship in it while serving in a public office is very much like intreducing yourself to the passengers on a sinking ship. You meet a man and like him very much, and swish! he disappears. You meet another man and ate friends for a while, and presently he forges so far ahead of you that he also haa disappeared just as definitely as the other one who sank. Not all the men Who are marching toward oblivion are failures, either. Take, for example, a governot Whose term is nearing its close. He certainly is not a failure, sinee he holds the highest office in the state. However, Unless he is going to run for another term or for the United States Senate, his political career is about over. And if you are in politics, no matter how deaf he is to you, you are so concerned with the incoming governor that you have little time for the retiring incumbent. It makes little difference to you whether he is going out at the top of at the bottom— he is guing out. Nearly every high official is a lotely mah during his last month in office. The moat enduring fHendships among politicians are those which crosa party lines. If it is understood in the first place that the other fellow is your political enemy, you ean be per- sonal friends for life. Within your own camp, however, you have your hardest fights and continuous struggle. The governor and I had come to be fairly good friends. I knew that he would feel that I was an ungrateful wretch. Perhaps I was, according to ordinary standards. It is precisely these standards that you dare not apply in prac- tical politics. If, out of gratitude and friendship, I had supported the governor, he would have been through in two more years anyway. It is the business of a politician . to make governors, not to love and honor them. I knew him well enough to guess what his course would be after the show-down. His record as a prohibitionist was fairly good, and now it would be the part of wisdom for him to accuse Darling of straddling that isstie in order to obtain Callaghan’s suppott. Not having to straddle himself, there was no reason why he shouldn’t gain all the strength possible from exposing Darling’s strategy. I wanted to stop this if I could. It seemed to me that the prohibition issue was becoming dangerously overaccentuated. All of us were using it continuously; if we kept this up the state might go dry. Of coufse at that time I didn’t realize that the whole country was definitely headed toward the Vol- stead Act. I went to the capital on the day after our conference with Darling and called on the governor. He had just finished writing a speech attacking Darling on precisely the grotind I had feared. I read the speech at his invitation. He stated briefly and very truly that Darling had been electéd to the legislature three times as an antiprohibi- tionist and once as a prohibitionist; that he had run for speaker of the house as a prohibitionist and received nearly all the antiprohibitionist votes; that he was now running fof governor as a prohibitionist and would receive the support of the crookedest, wettest political machine in the state. He challenged Darling to deny this if he dared by denouncing Mike Callaghan as a corrupt politician in league with lawbreakers. “Governor,” I said, “I don’t want that kind of a cam- paign. It will take some dry votes away from Darling, but May 25,1929 it will give him a lot of wet votes in return. The only certain result will be an injury to the good name of the city I represent. Mike’s organization is not so clean as it might be, but it is vastly better than people realize and there are influences at work inside of it to make it better. I am one of those influences. I don’t want you to make that speech.” “Is that all?” the governor asked, smiling. that there would be a threat attached. “No, governor,” I answered, and then I told him about the bombshell that could be exploded with reference to the blind asylum. He was astounded. “I didn’t have a thing to do with that,” he said. “This is the first time I have ever heard of it.” I reminded him of the fact that politically that wouldn’t make any difference. ‘‘The question,”’ I said, ‘‘is whether we explode both bombshells or neither.” He became thoroughly angry then, and though I knew what my job was I couldn't help sympathizing with him, at least a little bit. From his point of view he had leaned over backward to trade with Mike and with me, and now we were not only throwing him over but trying to muzzle him. “T am not afraid,” he said, “‘of any disclosure you can make about those circulars mailed from the blind asylum. I had nothing to do with it, knew nothing about it, and I can prove it. On the other hand, what I have to say about Darling carries its own proof. I'll take my chances with your scandal in order to tell the truth.” “All right, governor,” I said. “I just wanted to give you a chance. I’m not supporting you, but we’ve been I'm not here to advise you. I just wanted He knew good friends. to lay the facts before you in ample time.” I could see that his resolution was not nearly so firm as his declarations indicated, so I brought the conference to a close at once. To leave him in a state of indecision seemed to me better than to press for an understanding. On my return I learned that Mike had gone to hear the independent candidate for governor speak in a small town (Continued on Page 180) “You Let Me!" Mike Shouted. ‘‘Why, You Couldn’t Even Hire a Hall to Speak in My Bailiwick if I Didn’t Want You There” ee SS ee eee — =

Page 41

ee ~~. ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 39 When summer highways beckon: faster! and modern engines whisper: speed! try the New Mobiloil and make these gratifying discoveries— that the New Mobiloil lasts longer at high speed the first-vear feel in = your Our scientific prejudice against over-statement and superla- tive claims would ordinarily prohibit this sort of prediction in our advertising copy. But the New Mobiloil has been so consistently startling in its performance that these state- ments about it are actually conservative. When we say that the New Mobiloil will outlast oils generally specified for your motor, our speedway tests have repeatedly shown that the New Mobiloil not only consumes more slowly, but actually retains its lubricating value much longer—and it is an established engineering fact that the New eneine. and presery Cs iecreases Your power. the oil which lasts longest and stands up best at high speed also lubricates best at any speed. The New Mobiloil has written its own advertising, and made its own claims in a series of remarkable road, speed- way and laboratory tests. When we definitely offer you at least 20% more oil mileage, and a noticeable increase in power, plus 30,000 of the finest miles you've ever driven— with the first-year feel in every mile—you may be sure of getting these results right in your own engine. VACUUM OIL COMPANY Makers of high quality lubricants for all types of machinery ab Mobiloil

Page 42

40 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1. Ze ; The lovely design shown above is “‘porpy,’’ Congoleum Rug 609. 2s UMMER is eager to add another room to your house—an airy, healthful out- door room. And it’s such a simple matter eo nla so inexpensive—to beguile almost any Congoleum porch into cozy hospitality. Wicker chairs Rag Gor inviting rest . . . awnings spreading a cool shade .. . perhaps a couch swing . . . and the whole charming effect harmonized by a rich, colorful Congoleum Rug. But make sure that you get a genuine Congoleum Rug. See that the Gold Seal Guarantee is on it when you buy! Then you'll have a rug of beautiful pattern that neither summer sun nor sudden shower, nor tracked-in dirt, can harm. A rug that lies flat in the face of a spanking breeze—a rug that is waterproof and weatherproof. ' Congoleum Rug 604 J GOLE This Gold Seal identifies atc. US. PAT. OFF the one and only genuine “Congoleum.” Only in rugs bearing the Gold Seal do get the outstanding quality, value and ~ rs actargart eM BOUQL er CLoengeieum Rag 42¢ ok Sein . ndoor comfort and beauty so, Oul on the breeze-cooled porch UGS ut the Gold Seal f. Indoors, too, Congoleum Rugs with their cheerful colors are a joy throughout the year. They bid “‘ good-bye” to the drudgery of tiresome, back-breaking sweeping and beating. For they’re cleaned in a wink- a damp mop keeps them spotless. Only genuine Congoleum Rugs are made by the Mutticote Process—the secret of their unequaled wearing qualities. Only genuine Congoleum Rugs offer such a wide range of distinctive designs. At the present-day low prices, why be satished with anything less than the beauty and durability which only genuine Congoleum Rugs provide? CONGOLEUM-NAIRN INC., Gen’! Office: Kearny, N. J. New York Philadelphia Chicago Boston Pittsburgh San Francisco Minneapolis Kansas City Detroit New Orleans Dallas Atlanta Rio de Janeiro Jn Canada—Congoleum Canada J.td., Montreal Free ~ “COLOR .. WHERE AND WHY”... by Harriette Lea. Contains a wealth of informa- tion and suggestions on home- decoration — also a scientific chart of color harmony. Write us or mail this coupon to Congo- leum-Nairn Inc., Kearny, N. J. May 25,1929

Page 43

ce THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 41 The Million-Pound Deposit 4 ” * xxx MID the somewhat gloomy splendors of the red suite, Dutley contem- plated for some time with profound distaste the almost tragic situation which had been forced upon him. Opposite him sat Sir Matthew, a little censorious, a little contemptuous, however grievously he may have been suffering inwardly from loss of self-esteem, still clinging with a sort of desper- ate bravery to the reputation in which he had lived and which he had enjoyed for years. Even now, his attitude toward Dutley was one of partial condescension. “Lucky I was downstairs, Dutley, when you arrived this evening,” he remarked. “‘ Why on earth were you trying to make yourself look like a tramp? No wonder they didn’t want to give you a room.” “T rather overdid the thing, I suppose,”’ Dutley ad- mitted. ‘‘ You knew I'd taken on another adventure, didn’t you? Home affair this time. I've been living up at High- gate under the name of Charles Dennis, clerk to a firm of fruit merchants, and this was the attire I thought went with the part.” “What on earth were you doing that for?” Dutley threw his first bomb. “I was keeping an eye on Mr. Thomas Ryde and his associates,”’ he said. “You were what?” Sir Matthew demanded. Dutley did not repeat himself. “You see, Sir Matthew,” he explained, “directly you told me how serious the loss of the formula was, I went to have a chat with them at Scotland Yard. I saw their diffi- culty at once. It is part of their job, of course, to work for the recovery of any manner of stolen goods, but it is even more of their job to arrest the criminal. What I felt, and what they acknowledge, was that the moment the men who were in possession of the formula realized that they were in danger, the formula would be destroyed. That is why I thought I had better look round and see if there was any chance of getting the formula back myself.” The world seemed falling away beneath the Yorkshire- man’s feet. He gripped the arms of his chair. A new man appeared to be seated opposite him in Dutley’s likeness—a new man with the same voice, the same drawl, but some- thing utterly unsuspected behind. It was the man who had apparently been born into a new self on the day of the meeting of the directors of Boothroyd, Limited, who, “Just This, Though: Look Out for Thomas Ryde"’ By E. Phillips Oppenheim TEOoLVUSTRATE DO Br HENRY among that assembly of men, older in years and experience, had suddenly played the revolutionary, and had treated with good-humored disdain the advice of a unanimous opposition. “T haven’t done sc badly,” Dutley continued. ‘I know where the formula is; but then, after all, so do you.” There was a queer, empty silence. Dutley had spoken in his usual tone of voice. There was nothing in his manner to indicate the fact that he was launching a terrible accusa- tion against the other man. “T’m not very fond of talking,’’ Dutley went on, “and it’s tiresome having to repeat oneself. We'll leave it that I found out what I have found out. The formula lies in a safe of the International Safe Deposit Company, and the receipt for it is held jointly by five men. I have one share myself, which I take it, Sir Matthew, formerly belonged to you. I’ve arrived at that stage in the proceedings now when I’m getting ready to become a collector of more scraps of paper.” In some curious fashion the great Yorkshireman seemed to have fallen away in physique, to have shrunken in size almost correlatively with the mortal blow which had been dealt to his pride. His cheeks seemed to have sagged, his eyes to have retreated. His backbone had temporarily gone. “Grace,” he faltered—‘“‘she knew?” “Nothing about you,” Dutley reassured him. “Only about the formula.” Sir Matthew laughed bitterly. He lived again through that moment of agony when Grace's eyes had first met his lit with the horror of knowledge. “You don’t know what happened?” he demanded. “I know nothing except that Grace wrote me a mysteri- ous note and said that she was going back to Leeds.” “They’re after me like wolves for my share of the receipt,” Sir Matthew confided, “ because I've put my foot down, because I’ve sworn that Glenalton will never have the formula. I took it out of my pocketbook the other evening, when I was in her sitting room. Suddenly she RALEItLGoH gavea littlecry. I looked up, and she was staring at it as though she had gone mad. I thought she was ill; I never dreamed that she knew. She took it away from me for safety. The next morning she had gone.” “Poor Grace!" Dutley murmured. “It's all right about the paper, Sir Matthew. I've got that.” “You!” Dutley nodded. “She sent it to me with scarcely a word. It’s safe enough. Don’t you worry. I've five more pieces to collect, and then we'll be humming along down to Marlingthorpe again.” Sir Matthew laughed, hardly, boisterously, mirthlessly. “You reckon you'll get the other five pieces, lad?” “IT think so. I'm very lucky in some things. | got on the trail of this thing through sheer luck. 1 don't fancy Mr. Hartley Wright or Doctor Hisedale ought to be impossible to deal with. Thomas Ryde will be my y trouble. I suppose he has two pieces—his own and the piece of the man he murdered.” Just in an envelope, Sir Matthew was past emotion. His shiver was purely physical. “You mean Huneybell?” “Of course, Huneybell was asking for it Dutley acquiesced, “living in association with a man like Thomas Ryde. Ryde knew that sooner or later Huneyi» would give away the show if he were left alone. His behavior was perfectly logical, even if a little mercil “And will you tell me how, lad,”’ Sir Matthew asked, “you think you're going to tackle Thomas Ryde? With what you've found out, you could have the law on us—jail for the lot of us any moment—but you wouldn't get the formula.” “That's been the difficulty all along,"’ Dutley conceded amiably. “And don’t associate yourself, Sir Matthew, with that gang. You see, on the night of the burglary, by the grace of Providence, you were speaking at the Mercers’ dinner in the City.” “Thank God you know that!” “T know that, and I know who dragged you into the small share you had in the affair,’ Dutley went on. “I was going to have a serious talk with you about that fellow De Brest within the next few days. How much have you paid on account of the Dulkopf Iron Company?’ (Continued on Page 43

Page 44

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 On eight great motor cars, Fisher Body brings you style and value-leadership in every price class IN EACH of these eight cars, superior performance and mechanical ex- cellence are combined with body style and value which Fisher Body and only Fisher Body can give. The body value which General Motors cars with Body by Fisher give is so great that for anything comparable one must go to cars considerably higher in price. his value is apparent. Every Fisher Body, even at first glance, conveys a conviction of greater value and quality which becomes the more vivid and impressive the closer the in- spection. This value is revealed to any motor car buyer in the finer, richer, obviously more expensive upholstery cloth; in the better, more durable grade of carpeting; in the genuine selected plate glass; in the painstaking craftsmanship which creates perfection of finish both inside and outside; in the artistry of the appointments and in the smooth, lustrous, lasting finish which is applied to the exterior of every Fisher Body. It is honest value through and through— value which is present in the hidden parts of the frame work and the roof—value which accounts for the celebrated staunch- ness and long life of every Body by Fisher. The eight cars which bring you this finer style and greater value of Fisher Body are exceptionally fine cars in the way they per- form and in the satisfaction they afford. You will serve your own interests well by selecting your next car from among this group, the names of which are listed below, all with Body by Fisher. BODY BUICK VIKING OAKLAND im Bit OLDSMOBILE PONTIAC CHEVROLET GENERAL wT Th CADILLAC La SALLE MOTORS (x up? kok ROWE by FISHER —

Page 45

a ee — ee ee ee Pe + ee re oe =a ———— —— SSSorrS= THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 43 (Continued from Page 41) “Eighty thousand pounds,” Sir Matthew groaned, “and he’s at me for another fifty. I’ve lost all the brass I had in the world with that young man.” “If he turns out to be solvent, you'll get every penny of it,” Dutley assured him. “I’ve had an accountant in Amsterdam for the past fortnight looking into that young man’s affairs. He’s made a lot of money now and then, but it’s been for himself, and not his clients. It was to get your money back, of course, that De Brest inveigled you into this.” “T hadn’t a shilling in the world left,” Sir Matthew con- fessed. ‘First of all, I was to have had a sixth share of what they got for the formula if I helped them a little toward the burglary. I let them have the keys of the offices, and I arranged that the formula should be in that safe. There was absolutely nothing else that I did. I was to have had a million, according to De Brest, anc, harken, Charles Dutley, I knew right well that Rentoul knew that formula backwards. He could have made the stuff with- out the slightest trouble. What was I giving away? Our formula, without a doubt, which is worth a good deal to a competitor, but it would take anyone in the world three years to catch us up, and I never let on that we should be manufacturing just as well as ever. That’s how I figured it out—a million for me and little loss for anyone. I reck- oned without Thomas Ryde. He tumbled to it. He made sort of friends with Rentoul. That night Rentoul had a note that something was going on at the works. He thought one of the stills in the laboratory was wrong. He came down and Ryde made sure of him. They took the note away out of his pocket.” “Really,” Dutley murmured, with a suggestion of some- thing that was almost admiration in his tone, “I think they’ll put Thomas Ryde in Madame Tussaud’s!”’ Sir Matthew was rather like a drugged man, struggling back into sanity, a new world and a new light. “That telephone message?” he asked presently. “Yes, I sent that,”” Dutley admitted. ‘I thought it just as well for you to know where the formula was going.” “Then it was you behind the newspaper in the corner when I marched out,” Sir Matthew declared triumphantly. “‘T could have sworn it was your voice-asking for a mutton pie, only you put me off with all that rubbish.” “Yes, it was I,” Dutley assented. “I was afraid I might have got you into trouble, but I felt pretty certain that Thomas Ryde was too clever to risk a shindy there if any- one else was about. How did your pal De Brest explain matters? He was there, wasn’t he?” “Oh, he swore that they were only trying it on. All that they meant was to make me unconscious with a blasted hypodermic needle, and I suppose they’d have searched me for the receipt for the formula, which, as a matter of fact, I hadn’t brought. They looked a bit uglier than that though. I could have laughed when I heard your drawl out tHere, ordering a mutton pie a few feet away from where they were going to lay me out. How they ever drifted together—that little gang-—-I can't imagine. They’ve got no conscience, but, except for Thomas Ryde and Hisedaie, they’ve got no courage either. They go halfway and then they get the shivers. They let me walk through them as though they were putty, after they’d heard your voice.” Dutley nodded. ‘‘Amateurish, all of them, except Thomas Ryde,” he agreed. “I suppose it had to be like that. They wanted a financier, they wanted a chemist, they wanted an American safe opener. Where Huneybell came in, I don’t quite understand. He’s out of it now, anyway, poor chap! They’re losing their balance. Getting in outside help to do the dirty work, and that’s always dangerous for anyone in their position. They gave me a little sport this afternoon. Now let me see.” He produced a small diary from his pocket and studied it. “Today,” he meditated, “tis Wednesday. Friday is set- tlement day here and on the Continent. I expect I shall hear from De Brest before then. We'll wipe him off the slate. That leaves Hartley Wright, Hisedale and Thomas Ryde. Hisedale one might deal with differently. Thomas Ryde may need him, and therefore Hisedale may remain; but do you know, Sir Matthew, I positively cannot see Ryde allowing a man like Hartley Wright, who really has been the most useless of the survivors of the gang, to touch that two hundred thousand pounds. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Ryde saved me some trouble with Hartley Wright. That would mean three shares of the receipt with him. That would leave only Hisedale to be @ealt with. . . . Sir Matthew, do you know what I should do if I were you?” “Jump into the Thames, I should think,” was the gloomy response. “T should do nothing of the sort,” Dutley declared cheer- fully. “‘Things aren’t looking badly for us at all. You've made a great mistake, Sir Matthew, if you'll allow a younger man to say so, but the cleverest men of business in the world have always been duped by the Sigismund de Brest type of shark. As regards the conspiracy itself, you've had very little to do with it. You're not in any way responsible for what happened to poor old Rentoul and, except for this year’s bad trading, the burglary isn’t going to do us any harm. The formula,” Dutley concluded, with a queer, hard light in his blue eyes, “is either coming back to Boothroyd’s, or going to vanish from the face of the earth. Don’t feel tco desperate about it all, Sir Matthew. Things haven’t gone too far. I’ve felt sure of that all along. That’s why I wouldn't sign that statement. I don’t care about the investing public or the stock exchange. What I propose is to address the shareholders direct. I had to put Wendel! Cooke off yesterday, but I'm draft- ing a short circular letter which 1 am sending to him tonight. I am just going to explain that, owing to the tragic death of our chief chemist, serious disorganization ensued in the factory which has resulted in the manufac- ture of a considerable amount of unsatisfactory material. The difficulty, however, is only temporary, and the di- rectors are convinced that in a very short time everything will be as usual. I shall go so far as to say that it is the considered opinion of us all that the fall in the price of the shares is utterly out of proportion to the losses sustained.” “*T hope you are right, young man,”’ Sir Matthew prayed. “You seem to have suddenly acquired the knack of seeing things right somehow. I agree, of course.” “Lucky I had a bit of cash put on one side,”’ Dutley re- marked. “I was able to go in and buy, and that’s what's upset De Brest’s apple cart. Now we come to the point I was going to make. What were you thinking of doing with yourself for the next: few days, Sir Matthew?” “Nothing,” was the dejected reply. “Then let me make a suggestion,”’ Dutley begged. “‘Go back to Leeds. They’ll give you no peace here. They'll think you still have your portion of the receipt, and you'll be in danger all the time. Put a bit of pep into them at the works. Drop them a hint down at the laboratories that the formula may be back in a few days, and don’t discharge any more workpeople.” “How do you think you are going to get the formula back again?”’ Sir Matthew demanded doggedly. “Fight for it, very likely. We may cheat them, after all, with the law. Steal :t, if necessary. Wangle it away some- how. By the bye,’”’ Dutley continued, stretching out his hand and drawing a time-table toward him, “there's a good train at seven-—dining car—10:35 Leeds.” Sir Matthew rose to his feet. He had the air of a man still in great confusion of spirit. “T don’t understand all this,” he admitted. “I can’t get used to it. Except that there are flashes of your father about you now and then, I should have thought that I was dreaming.” Dutley laughed as he pushed him toward the door. “You go and catch your train, Sir Matthew,” he ad- vised. ‘‘Tell Grace that everything’s going to be all right, and she’ll hear from me in a day or two.” Sir Matthew walked down the corridor, entered his room and ordered his bag to be packed, like a man in a dream. It was not until he had taken his place in the dining car of the Scotch Express and found himself surrounded by a little crowd of obsequious attendants, that he fully awoke from his dazed condition. XXXI os ISTER!” “Well?”’ Dutley answered, sitting up in bed and grasping the receiver of the telephone a littie tighter. “Dutley speaking. Go ahead!” “They’re in. Two of them, if not three. Used a latchkey and walked in, bold as brass, quarter of an hour ago.” “Is Thomas Ryde one of them?” Dutley asked, already halfway out of bed. “He is not, or I don’t know that I should be here at the telephone,” was the emphatic reply. ‘‘Do I do anything about the cops?” “Not a thing. Your job’s over for the night.” It took Dutley barely ten minutes to struggle into his old clothes, make his way downstairs and out into the street. Three o'clock was striking as he hailed a stray taxi and was driven away southward. The gray, murky sky was besprinkled with masses of floating clouds, through which shone an occasional star. The pavements were wet, but no rain was falling. At the corner of Queen Street, Dutley descended and paid off his cab. The neighborhood, to him, seemed to have a singularly deserted appearance. Any festivities there may have been in the vicinity had ceased. The taxicab stand was empty. Even the cus- tomary policeman at the corner of Curley Street had dis- appeared. Dutley crossed the read, latchkey in hand, walked a dozen yards along the pavement, paused and quietly opened his own front door. He closed it noiseleasly and stood listening. From the reflection upon the oak floor, he could see that there was a light in his study, and the joy of the chase thrilled in his blood. He was alert, tense in every fiber of his being. Not only was the light shining there very distinctly but there was the sound of movement within the room, a muffled voice. Adventure, after all, was not to be denied to him. He lingered for a moment, his revolver in his hand, and, his mind working quickly, he ran over the resources of the household. There was Mrs. Bulwell, the cook, and her niece who acted as kitchen-maid, in one room—excellent servants, but negligible in the present crisis. There were two housemaids—fresh importations during his absence, whose names he failed to remember—also negligible. Then there was Kassim, the Abyssinian, a terrible fellow, strong as an Ox, amazing in a scrap, but absolutely gun-shy. He had never let off a firearm in his life, and at the very sight of the smallest of revolvers became a coward. Burdett he had purposefully left at St. Pancras. Robert, the footman, would be upstairs, sleeping in his bed, and possibly a confrére, whose duties consisted chiefly in looking after the electric light, the boots and the ice machine. This was the entire staff. Kassim, if summoned, might have a good effect, but if a gun were even as much as pointed at him he would flee, howling. Dutley’s instantaneous review of the resources of his household, therefore, made it clear to him that any help he might need in dealing with these intruders must come from outside. He leaned down and listened at the keyhole, remaining there for several moments. He could distinctly hear the sound of papers being turned over at his table inside. His fingers tightened upon the handle of that very deadly little weapon which he was carrying. The moment had arrived! He straightened himself, swung the door open with his left hand, and his right shot out. “Stay where you are!” he ordered sharply. “Up with your hands! Put them up, quick! You there—up!” There were two men in the room—one seated at the writing table, and the other, on his left, bending over a small safe, the door of which stood open. The former raised his hands at once. The latter paused for a moment to re- arrange his black silk mask. A bullet whistled within a foot of his head, showering him with splinters of weod from the corner of the bookcase. After that his hands shot up. “Capital!"’ Dutley approved. “I like you both better that way. You can, perhaps, guess who I am. I have the reputation of being the biggest fool, but the quickest shot, in London. May I inquire into the nature of your curiosity as to my poor belongings?” “Say, don’t you try that Raffles swank,” the man at the desk growled. “We're not here to tell you fairy tales anyway.” “I’m properly rebuked,” Dutley admitted. “‘Stand up, my friend at the desk. . Yes, I thought so. There is a bulge about that pocket which does not please me. Stay as you are, and lower your hands if you want to be measured for a coffin.” Dutley crossed the room unhurriedly. He stood within a foot of the man who had been searching his desk, looked over his shoulder at the scraps of writing on the blotting pad, and suddenly jammed his revolver into the man’s side. “No use, you see,” he explained sharply. “I'm not an amateur at this job. Keep your hands up, or you're a dead man. Good! A very nice little weapon too.” He drew from the man’s hip pocket a small, flat auto- matic of the latest type and threw it to the farther end of the room. His hands traveled lightly over his person. Afterward, he backed away, satisfied. “You can sit down if you like,” he said, “while I deal with your friend.” “Quick as you can, guv'nor,” the safe breaker begged. “*My arms is getting stiff.” “A professional, I see," Dutley remarked glancing at the tools upon the floor. “Don’t need to be no bloomin’ professienal to open a child’s money box like this,” the man grunted. “If that cove who calls hisself my pal had been as quick about his job as I have with mine, it’d have been home and mother long before you come in. Here, my gun’s in my coat pocket. Take it, and have done with it. I'd have yeu notice, guv’nor, in case we're pinched, that it ain't loaded.” Dutley glanced at the breech and nodded. He threw it also, however, to the far end of the room. Suddenly, with a catlike spring, he swung around and pounced upon the other man, catching his hand as it traveled down his trouser leg. “A transatlantic trick, this,"’ Dutley observed, as he snatched the small, narrow gun from the man's boot. “I wonder why I felt sure that you had something in reserve. With that mask, one hasn't a chance to watch the working of your ingenuous countenance.” Continued on Page 95)

Page 46

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘ts Performance _Soives Up to the Promise of Its Style §, FLEETING glimpse of the New All- ~ American. Or an unhurried observation ‘on a showroom floor. Either view seems to offer a promise . . . a promise of per- formance that is new to the moderate price field. It’s written in every line of its rakish bodies. . . written with all the consummate artistry that Fisher craftsmen wield . . . that here is a car with poise... grace... roadability... balance. You seem to sense that from the arch of its distinctive “cross-flow” radiator . . . from the sweep of its smartly modeled hood. And so it is... a car with balanced performance ...one that clings to the road at any speed. One that instills that feeling of security and safety which you are accustomed to enjoy only in cars much higher in price. It’s always smooth and silent . . . because of its advanced engineering design. Because of such features as a counter-weighted crankshaft... patented rubber-cushion engine mountings that insulate the engine from frame and body ...the Harmonic Balancer which overcomes periodic vibration in the crankshaft . . . the 2 ‘New Od li UU G-M-R cylinder head which reduces knocks and thumps to a minimum, using ordinary gasoline. And its control is practically effortless ...as you handle it from the properly pitched driver’s seat .. . adjustable to your favorite driving posi- tion. It’s easy to steer because of its highly per- fected steering mechanism . . . easy to stop with its noiseless dirt-and-weather-proof internal four-wheel brakes . . . easy to ride because of its deeply upholstered cushions. . . its Lovejoy Hy- draulic Shock Absorbers . . which keep springs quiet and resilient by retain- . its spring covers ing lubrication and eliminating dust and dirt. Charming in its luxury... this New AIll- American. Captivating in its beauty and smart- ness of lines. And, in addition, it offers the poise ...the balance... the smoothness of per- formance promised in its vigorous, arresting style. Oakland All-American Six, $1145 to $1375, f. 0. b. Pontiac, Michigan, plus delivery charges Consider the delivered price as well as the list price when comparing automobile values. Oakland-Pontiac delivered prices include only reasonable charges for delivery and financing. OAKLAND MOTOR CAR COMPANY, PONTIAC, MICHIGAN May 25,1929

Page 47

The Conpe * Body by Fisher THE SATURDAY EVENING POST - is] a7 Se ; x ~ > ’ , - -, “ ee NES ae A ee ke B-e ReA G

Page 48

46 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Shadow Emp) May 25,1929 »eror of All the ussias —By Princess Marthe Bibesco The Father of the Late C2ar of Rua: sia and His Family. In Ovait— Empress Marie Feaedorevna, Mother of Nicheotase fl HERE is an emperor of Russia who, at the present time, may be considered by the government of the Soviets as Lenin once was by the govern- ment of the Czars—an exile, a negligible phantom, nothing more But for those who have watched the downfall of the Russian than a ghost Empire it is not so very difficult to imagine a reversal of ex- isting things, and this ghost may one \ j day triumph over the reality of today. \4 Twenty-odd years were sufficient to con- \ tain the French-Revolution and all the glo- es of Napoleon, and then we find, at the PHOTO. PROM end, a Bourbon, brother of Louis XVI, sitting on the throne of France. For my part, I believe that restora- tion is always successful, but that it seldom lasts. What- ever the future may bring forth, I should like to define and describe the hypothetical ruler of Russia, heir to the throne of Peter the Great, whom I knew in years past in the intimacy of his family. Remembering the expression, The Shadow Cabinet, which the English use to designate their future government while it is still in opposition, I shall call the Grand Duke Cyril “The Shadow Emperor of ali the Russias A Millionaire by Divine Right F ROM my early girlhood I took an interest in him for two reasons: He was a naval officer, and he was the hero of a love story such as one reads of only in old romances. It was at the court of Rumania in the intimate circle of his cousin and sister-in-law, the crown princess, who became Queen Marie of Rumania, that my interest in him was awakened, and that is how I began my childish investigations to dis- cover that part of his life previous to my time. Born in Tsarskoe Selo, in 1876, grandson of the Emperor Alexander II, nephew of the Emperor Alexander III, LVER SERVICE first cousin of the czarevitch, who was to reign under the name of Nicholas II, the Grand Duke Cyril came into this world surrounded by all the glamour of an autocratic court, in a setting of Ro- manoff splendor. His name was at once inscribed on the list of imperial allow- ances at the chapter of the appanages, and this made of him, as it did of every newborn grand duke, a millionaire by divine right. His father was the Grand Duke Vladimir Alexandrovitch, brother of the reigning emperor; his mother, Marie Pavlovna, born Duchess of Mecklenburg, was known at the court of Rumania under the name of “Auntie Michen,” which was given to her by the crown princess and by her numerous other nieces. Before entering on a description of the Grand Duke Cyril, I would recall an an- ecdote which I recently heard. It is the story of a European journalist who was imprudent enough to write during his first stay in New York that all the women in the United States looked like queens and were treated as such, but that the same could not be said of the men of that country. Next morning he received a deputation of three young athletes, citi- zens of the United States, as handsome as Apollo, who said to him in chorus: “We don’t want to look like kings!” And each of them gave him the name of one European monarch to whom he pre- ferred not to bear any likeness. Any young man of any country might have been proud to resemble the Grand Duke Cyril. He exceeded in beauty all the statues of antiquity. In admira- tion of his classical features his cousins, Marie of Rumania and her three sisters, the four Princesses of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, had nick- named him “the marble man.” It was the eldest of them Marie—who first told me the marvelous story of love and war which made of him in my childish eyes an _ incontestable hero. Later on, when experience of life came to me, as it does to all of us, I might have been some- what less certain as to the merits of the grand duke, after I had of gayety and homeliness, not deprived of grandeur, as I experienced for myself some years later during a brief visit I made there after my marriage. Tegernsee was for the Princess Marie and her favorite sister, the Grand Duchess of Hesse-Darmstadt, a well- loved holiday, as it represented for them freedom from their small courts and tiresome court etiquette. Above all they loved being together under their mother’s autocratic but kindly government, as in the not very distant but yet past days of their happy girlhood. “Sister Sanda,” now Princess of Hohenlohe-Langenburg, and “Sister Baby,” the future Infanta of Spain, were also of the family party. But the two inseparables were the two eldest, the Crown Princess of Rumania and the Grand Duchess of Hesse; “Maddy” and “Ducky,” by their pet names. Their beauty—one so fair, the other so dark—far from causing rivalry, seemed to complement each other by the spell of magnificent contrast. The Emperor With His Crown Off OR that reason, also, they liked to appear together in public, and they used to enter the ballroom arm in arm at fétes which were given for them in Bukharest soon after their marriages. I was too young then to take part in these festivities, but I remember with what admiration my par- ents spoke of the fancy-dress balls given then at the Court, when the crown princess and the grand duchess appeared, one dressed as a white lily, all clearness and candor, and the other, dark and beautiful, as a red lily. On a similar occasion the two princesses made their entry, one clad as the sun, all gold, matching her golden hair, and the other in the blue and silver of the moon; both equally dazzling and enchanting the spectators. I remember having often contemplated their photographs in these costumes. In spite of the change in xsthetics brought about by fashion in figures and hairdressing, they were still beautiful to me in the light of my early dreams. After this short and brilliant period a rumor was heard of dissensions in the grand-ducal household, and Victoria Melita—dear “Sister Ducky’’—confided her troubles to her sister by letter only and ceased for a time her visits to the Court of Rumania. It was about this time, after the return of the crown princess from Tegernsee, that I became aware of the exist- ence of the Russian cousins, the sons of “Uncle Vladimir”’ and “Auntie Michen.” From her last holiday at Tegernsee the crown princess breught back numerous snapshots she had taken, which she allowed me to look at. The three grand dukes, Cyril, Boris and Andrew, played a great part in the arnusements which the camera had im- mortalized. They frequently visited their aunt at Tegern- see, and then the whole party went to Darmstadt on a visit to the Grand Duchess Victoria heard his charac- ter severely criti- cized, both before and after the Russian Revolution, by more than one person in his coun- try and in other countries who were endeavoring to shake him from his pedestal. But it is my first impression, in all its fresh and youthful sincerity, that I want to review now; and who knows if youthful sympathy has not a better insight into char- acter than jealousy, fear or interest? Every summer Princess Marie of Rumania left her residence at Sin- aia to spend some weeks in Ger- many at her mother’s home at Tegernsee, near Munich. The Dowager Duchess of Saxe-Coburg- Gotha—born Grand Duchess Ma- rie of Russia—had found after her widowhood a peaceful summer re- treat on the shores of this little Ba- varian lake. She gathered around Melita. There also came as a guest their other first cousin, the Czar Nicholas II, and his consort, Alex- andra Feodorovna, the sister of the Grand Duke Ernest of Hesse and, in consequence, the sister-in-law of Victoria Melita. I still remember how vividly in- terested I was in turning over the leaves of the albums of snapshots the Princess Marie had taken dur- ing this happy holiday. For each picture she gave me all the ex- planations I wanted. What fun it was to see the Emperor of all the Russias playing about like a boy in the midst of his family. The children, the dogs, the horses—I knew them all by name, and I could see them disporting them- selves at liberty under thesheltering trees of the park during those short holidays snatched from the strenu- ous life of one of the most power- ful monarchs in the world. Many of these photographs showed the RIGHT BY KEYSTONE VIEW « her her four beautiful and high- spirited daughters in an atmosphere Her Imperial Highness, the Grand Duchess Cyril of Russia MPANY, INC., M. ¥ Emperor Nicholas and his cousins (Continued on Page 50) ——— 8 SS

Page 49

= == = - - BUILDING THE FORTRESSES OF HEALTH One of a series of mes- sages by Parke, Davis & Company, telling how the worker in medical science, your physician, and the maker of med- icines, are surrounding you with stronger health defenses year by year. Milk of Magnesia made the Parke-Davis way Purity, uniformity, dependa- bility—here are three distin- guishing characteristics of Parke-Davis Milk of Mag- nesia. Because of the high quality of its ingredients, and because of the exacting care that marks its manufacture, you can always depend upon the medicinal activity of our product. Yet it is so mild and agreeable to the taste that children take it readily. Ask your druggist about Parke- Davis Milk of Magnesia. A PARKE-DAVIS PRODUCT Mg SET le fosau PASH ERNIE SOC SFY on > Sa TS see Oh Dor! “0 ems O90 6 OE OO | THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Christopher olumbus- 1929 For a fleeting moment, dreams! Then shrieks of delight—and swift and sudden action ! The world is far from “flat” for your little adventurer! But dangers lurk unseen. Child- hood is joyously reckless! Reckless—but thoughtfully protected by scientific safeguards unknown a few generations ago. Science walks ahead of our boys and girls these days—halting many a dread disease that besets childhood’s pathway. Just a century and a half ago the world stood helpless before the devastating sweep of small- pox. Today, wherever vaccination is the rule, smallpox has practically disappeared. But preventive medicine has not stopped with the conquest of smallpox. Diphtheria, sear- let fever, typhoid, tetanus and rabies have also been brought under control. Only a generation ago, diphtheria menaced practically every child. Frequently it carried off all the children in the family. Today toxin- antitoxin treatment has robbed diphtheria of its terrors, and children of any age can be rendered immune. Now, in early summer, is the best time to have your physician immunize your children against diphtheria. Though the entire protective treatment is given within two weeks, immunity does not usually develop for several months. Treatment should be begun right away in order to get as much benefit as possible by the time school starts in September. vy y 7 Constant research in the Parke-Davis labora- tories has resulted from time to time in dis- covering and perfecting new medicines, serums and vaccines, used by physicians for the pre- vention and cure of disease. Happily, preventive medicine deals largely with the prevention of children’s diseases. To contribute ever so slightly to the health and happiness of the youngsters of the world, is one of the richest rewards of an organization thor- oughly imbued with the traditions of research. PARKE, DAVIS & CO. The world’s largest makers of pharmaceutical and biological products 47 — — — a

Page 50

48 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 Poe ts WO TAESE The only true test of performance is personal experience. Takea trial This emblem identifies the fine car drive in an Oldsmobile of lew price and find out for yourself, not only what it does, but how it does it. Match it against other cars and make comparisons. Give it these eleven tests ...oranyothers ... and check results by any standard of performance you care to set. 7 r 7 7 Test Ease of Control When you relax in the driver's seat, notice its comfort—the convenient arrangement of the controls and dash instruments. Try the new Fisher adjustable front seat. See how easily it moves for- ward or backward to the most natural posi- = tion for you. Oldsmo- bile’s adjustable steering wheel adds still further to your comfort. Step on the pro- gressive-contact starter and note its positive, prompt engagement. Test the easy action of the clutch—the silent easily-meshed gear- shift—the restful pad-type accelerator. Test Getaway Observe how easily and smoothly Oldsmobile gets away from the curb—how promptly it responds to controls— how easy it is to steer. Pull up to a stoplight. Then flash ahead when the signal says ““Go.”’ Measure Olds- mobile’s swift, stage- less pick-up in all =. A\ar~ gears. Note how quickly and smoothly you can shift from low, through second, into high —leaving less spirited cars behind. Test Handling Ease Drive through thickest traffic. Note the sensation of security—the feeling of readiness for any emergency— that comes from Olds- mobile’s sure, accurate handling. Observe how Oldsmobile’s instant response to accelerator, brakes, and steering wheel simplifies city driving. At any rate of speed, in traffic or on the road, Oldsmobile is easy to handle and restful to drive. Test Smoothness Drive Oldsmobile on the open road. Note the smoothness and quietness of its 62-horse- power engine. Cover the face of the speed- ometer with glove or handkerchief—take your accustomed tour- ing pace—then check the speedometer read- ing .. . you will be astonished to find how fast you are traveling. Test Riding Comfort Oldsmobile seats are wide, deep-cushioned, and form-fitting. Interiors are luxuriously roomy and restful, with plenty of head room and leg room. Four Lovejoy hydrau- lic shock absorbers function in harmony with Oldsmobile’s special alloy-steel springs to smooth out all road irregularities. Drive this finer Oldsmobile over choppy pave- ments, over rutsand bumps. Whether you take them at high speeds or slow, you'll find that all roads ride comfortably in an Oldsmobile. 0.% 2s M : oe —_ VS a = | SIS ST eee ee ee a ee ae

Page 51

ee ee = a — —— — a ee eee eS en ae Ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 49 FLEVEN #8915 Test Acceleration in High Gear When you pass other cars on the road, mark Oldsmobile’s quick response to the throttle in all speed ranges— the smooth, effortless acceleration in high gear—the surge of power that enables you to sweep into the lead easily and surely. Test Speed Seek a straight, level stretch of open high- way and give Oldsmobile its head. You’il thrill to speeds far higher than the av- erage motorist ever uses. Yet you'll feel secure, perfectly re- laxed—for Oldsmobile speed is as restful as it is exhilarating. Oldsmobile’ s engine is smooth, quiet, and free from vibration at every speed. And Oldsmobile’s fa- NEW LOWER PRICE mous stamina enables TWO DOOR SEDAN you to maintain high $37 as speeds mile after mile £ o. b. factory, Lansing, Mich. pare Tire and Bumpers Extra O B and hour after hour. Test Hill-Climbing Ability Send Oldsmobile up the longest, steepest hill you know. Make several tests —starting from the bottom of the hill at different speeds. You'll find that the tremendous power reserve in Olds- mobile’s big 62-horse- power high-compres- sion engine provides wonderful hill-climbing ability. If it’s power you want, you can’t match this Oldsmobile at its new lower price. Test Roadability One of the greatest joys in driving this finer Oldsmobile results from its splendid roadabil- ity. Drive it on all types of roads—con- crete, gravel, dirt. Try iton short, sharpturns and long, sweeping curves. A low center of gravity, properly balanced weight, and iw Lovejoy hydeaadic shock absorbers all are contributing factors in this finer Olds- mobile’s ability to hug the road at any speed. a, & = Test the Brakes Test Oldsmobile’s braking system for ability to bring the car to a full stop from any speed in an unusually short distance. Observe its quickness and sureness of action. Oldsmobile’s mechanical four-wheel brakes not only are exceptionally efficient, e but are smooth and quiet at all times, and easy to operate as well. Test Parking Ease Deliberately select a small space at the curb and park this Oldsmobile. Fingertip steering and a short turning radius make it easy to slip into small parking places. And the sure- ness of control that results from easy clutch, brake, and gear- shift action allows you to take full advantage of every inch of space. ’ r ’ r These cleven tests will give you a compre- hensive idea of Oldsmobile performance. They also afford an excellent basis of com- parison with other cars. (Thousands of motorists who have given Oldsmobile these and other tests have made it the car of their choice.) Oldsmobile rests its case in your hands. Come, drive this car and judge it by your own standards of performance and value.

Page 52

Centinued from Page 46 ‘omical postures, making fun of one another. In one photograph the emperor was sitting in the peram- bulator of his youngest daughter, laughing heartily, his one of his cousins held a bunch of s head just out of his reach. Another snap- n the most egs sticking out, while nes above ! shot showed the grinning faces of all the men guests peer- g between the bars of the balustrade on the terrace of astle at Darmstadt. Here were all the protagonists of e future tragedy—the Grand Duke of Hesse, the Grand f Russia, the Czar and the Grand Duke An- This last face attracted my atten- It was neither laughing nor grinning; it was a calm, ful f somewhat sad expression. Duke Boris « irew und then another ace wearing a When All the World Didn’t Love a Lover wa s he?"’ I asked the crown princess. “That is the marble man,” she said; “my cousin, the Grand Duke Cyril of Russia. We call him that because isome and also very impassive.”’ first time I had heard the Grand Duke of. By degrees I became interested in him. I saw him in several family groups wearing his aval uniform, tall, slender—a Greek god. As I put more and more questions about him, finally his story was told to me. He had his boyhood by his ousin Victoria Melita, whom he loved nreturn. But the laws of the Ortho- dox church forbid marriage between first cousins. Since the Russian ex- pression fot “ first cousin ”’ is ““ brother of brother”’ sister of brother,” it is easy to understand why the preju- dice is so strong against this kind of marriage. The obstacles seemed in- surmountable to the parents of the young people, and they had to obey. For political reasons Princess Vic- toria Melita then became engaged to the reigning Grand Duke of Hesse- Darmstadt, who aiso was her first cousin on her father’s side, both having a common grandmother in Queen Victoria. But by chance he was a Protestant like herself, and the laws of the Protestant church did not for- bid them to marry. In spite of this cruel paradox, which prevented her marrying the cousin she loved and allowed her to wed the cousin she did not love, Victoria Melita continued to care for Cyril and hefor her. A great and tragic event was to reveal their eternal love for each When the Russo-Japanese War broke out the Grand Duke Cyril sailed as officer on the Petropavlovsk, the s very nan ae : hat Was the yril spoken been loved since or “ other Grand Duke Cyril Viadimirovitch of Russia THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 admiral’s flagship. Unfortunately the vessel was blown up at the Battle of Port Arthur. The news of the disaster reached Europe without any details. For two days Victoria Melita believed that Cyril was dead, and her despair knew no bounds. It was after she heard of his miraculous escape that she made up her mind to renounce the grand-ducal throne of Hesse, separate from her husband and consecrate her life to the man she loved, whatever the consequences might be. It seemed to her that God Himself had saved her beloved, who, in the midst of that frightful wreck, had found a floating spar to which he clung until he was picked up by a boat, while hundreds of other men had been drowned. She retired to her mother’s castle at Coburg, and when Cyril re- turned from the war he found her there. She had not long to wait for the consequences of her act: Reprobation, opposition, suppression of allowance. Queen Victoria, the grandmother of the separated couple of Hesse-Darmstadt, on principle had never admitted divorce. The Eng- lish court, faithful to the old queen’s ideas, refused to admit it either. As for the Russian court, it was different. There divorce was allowed, several grand dukes having married divorced women. But inthis particular case there was the question of relation- ship. The absolute intoler- ance of the Russian church, which had first prevented Cyril and Victoria Melita from being happy together, was the official reason given for the reprobation, but there was another key to the situation. The Empress Alexandra- Feodorovna, sister of the Grand Duke of Hesse, could not forgive her former sister-in-law for having abandoned Darmstadt, the home of her family, the whole tradition, and gravely offended Grand Duke Ernest in his pride as a German prince. Help and protection the two lovers found nowhere except at Tegernsee, from the dowager duchess. She was an intelligent and proud old lady with a warm and ambitious heart for her children; and besides that, she was Russian and knew the secrets of her people, the Romanoffs. As in the operas and fairy tales, love ended by triumph- ing over every obstacle. In October, 1905, in spite of the strong opposition of the courts of Russia and Germany, and the manifest displeasure of the court of England, His * r ? . A Photograph of the Imperial Russian Family and the Rumanian Royal Family Taken at the Royct Patace in Constanta Befere the Wortd War Queen Marie of Rumania Imperial Highness, the Grand Duke Cyril Vladimirovitch, married his first cousin, Victoria Melita, the divorced Grand Duchess of Hesse-Darmstadt. The Almanach de Gotha registered the bare fact. The bride had abjured the Protestant religion in favor of the Orthodox church, and taken, in consequence, the name of Victoria Feodorovna. Her conversion had been facili- tated by her love, which helped her to share the beliefs of the man she adored. Besides, it was also her mother’s religion. The conversion had been advised by the far- seeing dowager duchess, who knew many secrets about the Russian court of which others were ignorant. The religious ceremony took place in the Duchess of Coburg’s private chapel at Tegernsee, and the benediction was given by the Orthodox priest, her own chaplain. This union, so long hoped for by the newly married pair, was considered no less than a crime by the Czar Nicholas II, who acted not only as chief of the Romanoff family and as emperor but also in his capacity as supreme head of the church and head of the army and navy. His ver- dict brought immediate chastisement. One can hardly imagine today what the disapproval of an autocrat meant in Russia to a member of the imperial family. First, the culprit’s position was ruined. The grand duke was a naval officer, and the long list of his military and naval titles, honorary and other, filled nearly a whole page of the Almanach de Gotha. He was deprived of his commands, both effective and honorary. He ceased to be aide-de-camp to the emperor and captain in the navy, commanding a cruiser; he ceased to be the chief of the Seventy-second Regiment of Infantry of Vilna, a la suite of the regiment of the Preobrajinski Guard. He ceased to be colonel of the regiment of Dragoons of the Guard, of the Imperial Marines, and so on. Then he was ruined materially. He ceased to receive his allowance as a member of the imperial family. His appanage was crossed off the big book. His duties and his honors could be taken from him, but nothing could alter the fact that he was the first cousin of the Em- peror of all the Russias, and, failing the Emperor's only son and only brother, the heir apparent to the throne. The Marble Man and His Bride IS aunt, who had now become his mother-in-law, perhaps reckoned on the known fragility of the two lives which came between him and the throne when she gave her help and protection to the second husband of her daughter. Exiled from Russia, poor and discredited, the young wedded pair made their home in Paris. In 1907 we heard that the Grand Duke Cyril and his wife intended to come to Rumania on a visit to their sister and sister-in-law, the Crown Princess Marie. The news made me as happy as if I had heard I was to see Tristan and Isolde, Romeo and Juliet, or Elsa and (Continued on Page 64) — ae TE eee —————— ee —_-

Page 53

— —_ See = ao — ——e THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 51 How would you like to cwn a genuine gas range and have real gas to cook with tn your country home? You can immediately with Pyrofax You country and suburban housewives who live beyond the city gas mains, how would you like to have a shining, spick-and-span gas range to add beauty to your kitchen and pleasure to your cooking? A genuine gas range! You can have one, probably as soon as to- morrow. You can have a genuine gas range and genuine gas, with Pyrofax—a real gas, refined from natural gas, stored in steel cylin- ders and delivered to your home through a nation-wide chain of distributing stations. Pyrofax burns with a bright blue flame, very clean and very hot. Instantly ready, com- pletely controlled, as perfect to cook with as only real gas can be. Each cylinder contains enough gas to serve the average family for two to three months. Do not compare Pyrofax ig Suara ee ee ee pO nnn flame and temperature. It is used exactly like city gas. promptness, efficiency and CONVENIENT TERMS Asmalldownpay- 45 prrrzge as ment enables you to start cooking $37. 50 dependability of Pyrofax Hundreds and hundreds service. A high standard of of voluntary testimonials* service is made possible by “at nome with gas at once. . 7 ; -_ ave poure Oo - os , the size of the manufac- have poured in f m I yre reed. = Oo eet DOWN e size ¢ ifac fax users. From New over a full year, if you like. Pyrofax turer—a unit of one of the equipment, including the gas range York, “‘ Your gas is wonder- ful. It has made my life of your choice and complete installa tion, is surprisingly low priced. largest corporations in the country. Once install Pyro- much brighter.’’ From Massachusetts, “It is very satisfactory— absolutely. Rest assured I am a booster for Pyrofax.” From Indiana, “It with gasoline, carbide or kero- sene. It is not a liquid fuel. It is a true gas, odorless and soot- less, keeping a kitchen cool in summer and free from any dis- AUTHORIZED AGENCY FOR Pyrofan is all that is claimed for it. Let the good work go on.” From Florida, ‘“‘ Very satisfactory in- deed. Only sorry I didn’t have it sooner.” agreeable odors in winter. bpd Many users are particularly Pyrofax cooks perfectly be- well impressed with the cause of its easily controlled ™ “* “te gre Oe” ewriters’ names on request Pi FoR vases CARBIDE AND A xX CARBON CHEMICALS SMD VW. 1-8 tO. 8 CORPORATION Unit of Union Carbide ucC) and Carbon Corporation Carbide and Carbon Building, 30 East 42nd Street, New York Boston —1017 Old South Building Cieve.anp— Madison Avenue and W. 117th Street Cuicaco—-Peoples Gas Building Detrrorr—General Motors Building Sr. Louts —4228 Forrest Park Blvd. San Francisco—114 Sansome Street MinNEAPOLIS —422 Washington Ave- nue North Toronto, Cawapa—92 Adelaide Street West fax and you can depend on continued, well-organized attention. With a small initial payment you can have a genuine gas range and real Pyrofax gas in your home immediately. Convenient terms easily arranged. Pyrofax equipment, includ- ing the gas range of your choice and com- plete installation, is surprisingly low priced. By all means have a demonstration of this perfect fuel. Let us send you literature and the name of the nearest dealer. Return the coupon. | a PYROFAX DIVISION SEP-5-25-49 | Carsipe anp Carson Cuemicats Corrorarion | Please address office nearesi you Please send me some of your interesting literature on Pyrofax and the name of the nearest deale Name Address ———————

Page 54

* Pinion MM) MMMM MMH MMMM RH ORM HHH MMMM HMMM MMH OM THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Cars That Stay Young Crosses Inpicate “Timxen-Equiprep” Pornts Move. All The Master ie | The Mate 6-80 8-90 All All All Wheels Rear Steering Differ- MM Wheels *- * Pinion xu. « Front “MOO “am “uHM “m a May 25,1929

LET'S GO + « « and keep on going eee making molehills out of mountings mileage oe going on, keeping young... this is the meaning of “Timken=equipped” motor cars. Timken exclusive tapered construction and Timken POSITIVELY ALIGNED ROLLS take the threat out of thrust, shock, torque and speed while Timkensmade electric furnace steel defies depreciation as does no other similar substance. It means a lot to have a car limken Bearing equipped. It is very easy to ask. Then you are assured that the car you get will keep its youth. THE TIMKEN ROLLER BEARING COMPANY, CANTON, OHIO TIMKEN? BEARINGS

, : | : \ r f SS 270 — Se ee — <= |

Page 55

— a a —_— © a mee, ia ry eS eee —< SS —e eee eee

“I Got More Francs Than a Paymaster. What I Need is This ———"* IX pairs of socks!’’ The company supply sergeant’s symptoms indicated a heart attack. “What are you—a centipede? What do you want with six pairs of socks?” Cawpril Slim West draped a sneer around the last quarter inch of a cigarette and dragged until his finger got hot. “Well, I'll tell you, sarge,”’ he said pleasantly. “I figgered I’d drape my dogs in a dry pair. Then I figgered I’d make me a pair of antimoan ear muffs out of the sec- ond pair. That leaves four pair. Eight socks. Me and my squad figgered we might drop some couplin’ pins in the toe of them eight socks and beat a few hell out of whatever louse tightwad of a company supply sergeant happened to be clostest when the massacre started—that’s all.’ ‘*Lissen, wild man, there will be no socks issued today!” “‘Hand me them twelve socks before I issue a couple fer your jaw! More socks and less talk! Come across before I x The loot, entering the supply sergeant’s domain at a fast walk, checked the attack of the sock troops. “Sergeant Hoarder, issue the new rifles to the company,” the loot ordered. ‘‘Turn the souvenir Krags over to the regimental Q. M. Draw new blankets for the company. Issue the second O. D. uniform and all the rest of the com- pany raiment before five o’clock this evening. The regi- ment moves for New York around ten o’clock tomorrow morning.” When the loot had gone, Slim West laughed a hollow mocking laugh. “‘ Busted high, wide and pritty. Pick up your playthi.gs, you pawnbroker! Bankrupt again! O-o-ow, boy! There will be no socks issued today! Baby, you flang snake eyes!” Ten minutes later, explaining his troubles to the top kick, “If I could have Squad 1 for a work detail, it would be O. K.,” the supply sergeant suggested. ‘“‘Cawpril West and his squad are built for the heavy lifting. How about it? We got to handle those gun cases and there'll be a lot of hard work between now and midnight, juggling the company’s gear. Strong backs is what I need.” “You got ’em.” The top trailed Slim West to the tented lair where, with Squad 1, he had begun to make the best of an interval free of drill. The invader interrupted the squad’s siesta and broke into Slim’s recital of his victory over the tightwad supply sergeant. “‘‘No socks today,’ sez he, like he was the king-snipe sock general of the known world! I aim to ride that bird some day when “Squad 1,” the top interrupted, “roll over and roll out! Report to Supply Sergeant Hoarder fer work. Stick till you get it done!” On the way to the work zone, “When do you aim to ride him, Slim?” a memorizing member of Squad 1 inquired. Cawpril Slim growled a reply without turning his head: “Nix on the history. Hide them teeth before I crown ’em with a fin full of knuckles. Can the comics! I'll ride him plenty when the ridin’ starts.” Under pressure of seasickness and other military matters incident to the trip to France, the riding process was post- poned. During all this time, no doubt from a spirit of sheer perversity, Supply Sergeant Hoarder functioned efficiently as a guardian of army property. “‘Settin’ there with six clerks workin’ day an’ night, winnin’ the war with lead pencils. It makes me gag.” THE

Sergeant Hoarder’s industry acted as a red flag on the bulls of Squad 1. “I aim to ride that bird,” Slim West repeated. Common sufferings and bow waves had cemented fraternal bonds, and in spite of the diversity which characterized the in- dividuals of Squad 1, they landed in France bearing up under a common cross. Unkind shafts of criticism found their mark and in a little while after the regi- ment landed, Sergeant Hoarder’s name was prominent whenever the subject of plagues came up. “T was a rider from away back before I hired on as a ground gripper with an electric power Jine crew. Just changed the style of my spurs,”’ Slim West an- nounced one night in council, while the pattering rain of sunny France softened the harsh language. “‘I ain’t forgot my ridin’ days, and the first chance I git that Hoarder bird gits rode.” Various aggravating events intervened to delay the rodeo of revenge. “Lissen, gang,” a bringer of bad tidings announced, “Hoarder has got himself promoted out of the company. Regimental supply sergeant is goin’ to run the warehouses on the piers and Hoarder is promoted to takin’ his place.” “The dirty sundowner! I knew if he kept lickin’ around with his overtime bookkeepin’, workin’ night an’ day, something would happen to him.” “He ain’t out of danger yet by forty-four miles,” Slim West commented. ‘Main reason he works so steady is that nobody in the outfit would have nothin’ to do with him. Everybody else havin’ a good time, and nothin’ left fer him to do but bury himself in figgerin’ out how much canned goldfish he could fake on a beefsteak ration. Trouble—he’s savin’ it up, that’s all. Us birds out in the rain climbin’ bald-headed trees an’ stringin’ telephone copper whilst he set in front of a desk, SATURDAY EVENING POST 53 By HUGH WILEY ILLUSTRATED ar Torr SARG high, dry and soft. It’s all wrong. That's the kind of breaks that makes anarchists.” “Ride 'im, rough boy!” “T’ll ride him when the time comes. That regimental ringtail of a supply sergeant will be rode, raked and re- leased by me personal before anybody else drops a loop on him.” The riding event was sidetracked in favor of a job of work which kept Cawpril Slim West and his crew out of Sergeant Hoarder’s territory. Engaged in constructing a twenty-mile telephone line to base headquarters, Slim and his line crew found enough diversions in their work to eliminate Sergeant Hoarder as a principal subject of one- way repartee. The lopsided truce lasted for a week, but with the completion of the line the old refrain was resumed. Precipitating a particularly violent outburst of language, a slug of gossip was relayed to Slim West by a member of Squad 1. This hero, speaking fluent French, had been sta- tioned at the camp switchboard: “It serves you right fer pulling that language exhibit in front of the loot. You're spiked on this Central job—mebby fer life. Mebby it'll learn you to talk English in public next time, and nothin’ else but.” “T ain’t kickin’ about the job,” the six-foot Central re- turned. “It’s fair enough layin’ inside where it’s dry, with nothing on your mind but a head set. Al! I miss is the traveling ruckus with you guys, swimmin’ up and down the country in an ocean of vang rouge and home cookin’. You birds got all the luck, and I hate to be left out.” “We got all the luck, includin’ hard labor and lots of wet climate. I haven't had on any dry Clothes fer a week,” Slim answered. “Lissen to the gossip and arnuse yourself. You're sittin’ pritty, but you don’t know it.” “I ain't sittin’ so pritty as you might think. There's seven hundred wild men on the line, and all they do is baw] out Central with hearty language they been savin’ up fer the last ten years in the United States.” “Plug ‘em in on a dead end and they'll zit tame.” ““Nobody’s gonna git tame around here. Everything that happens is something worse. Lend me the makin’s, Slim. There ain't even cigarettes enough in the outfit to let a man drag a lungful of smoke to tame him down when things go wrong. Half the military language today has been from heroes tryin’ to borrow tobacco. Ever the colonel—keep quiet a second— it's headquarters.’ Central's voice changed, and in a mili- tary manner—-“‘ Yes, col onel, I’m ringing the regimental adjutant,”’ he answered, speaking to

“*Shorty,"* He Began, ‘‘Lissen Heavy to What I Got te Say"

Page 56

S4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST unseen authority. Thereafter, staying on the line, he ac- quired an earful of interesting information. When the colonel’s conversation had been completed, the Central man turned to Slim West with a relay service. “What d’ya suppose the colonel was chewin’ the rag about?” he asked, as a preliminary to his announcement. “You couldn't guess in a thousand years. All he talked about with the adjutant was a list of promotions.” ““My name in the pot?” Hope bloomed for a brief mo- ment, and then withered under the scorching rays of common sense. “Yeah—-they’re gonna make you a general,”’ Central announced. “Over and above that, the main thing he talked about was the louse champion. Hoarder—Regi- mental Supply Sergeant Hoarder. Gimme that tobacco.” “You mean the colonel has promoted that bird?” “From what I got, all they did was cinch his papers makin’ him the regimental sunply sergeant, but they were speakin’ about commissions fer eight or ten high guys and master engineers, and they spoke about him along with that outfit. Don't it give you a pain in the neck?” ‘Boy, the bigger they are the harder they drop. Don’t forget that. Hoarder is due togit rode and I rides him. . . . Hand me back that tobacco. Where do you git them manners— puttin’ it in your pocket?” “G'wan and rustie some more. I haven't had any of my own fer a week. You've got a chance to git some, ramblin’ all over the world while I stick here in this jail.” “Well, keep the tobacco, kid. Go easy on it. Them homegrown makin’s is mighty hard to get, and there ain't no kick in the frog stuff. . . . So they're aimin’ to crown little bright-eyes queen of the May, are they? Lemme know any more you git on that stuff. If there’s any crownin’ done on bright-eyes, I aim to do it myself— mostly with a sledge hammer. I'll ride that bird and ride him ragged when the time comes.” The roughrider left the telephone shack and started out on an expedition calculated to renew his supply of cigarette tobacco. In common with the rest of the gang, he had long since abandoned all hope of ever achieving ownership of any tailor-made cigarettes. Mingling with various work de- tails on his search, he met in each instance the same refusal: “Roll one if you want it, but rebate the bag. That stuff is the family jewels with me.” When the market quotations on ciga- rette butts reached one franc a throw, a man in Squad 1 got a letter from home containing vital news: We will continue to send you a carton of cigarettes every week, in spite of what you say happens to them transit. Perhaps ’ the mail clerks do find . the packages broken, my dear boy. It is impossible to think that they would delib- erately rob the sol- diers’ mail of ciga- rettes That was a graceful and generous thing the New York actresses lid in sending supplies if cigarette tobacco to every overseas regiment. I hope you and your comrades enjoyed the ones received by your regiment. At this point the recipient of the letter stopped reading and gazed into the past. He came out of his trance and rounded up three of his pals. ‘‘Whadd’ya suppose my old man is talkin’ about in this letter—the cigarette tobacco these New York gals sent each regiment?” “He might be talkin’ sense. We heard something about somebody passin’ the hat fer cigarettes the day we left New York.” “Yeah, they was a piece in the paper about it. I didn’t believe it, though. Nobody never put out no welfare yet without a price tag on it.” Coming in at that moment, Cawpril Slim West listened to the gossip concerning the mysterious donation of cigarette tobacco. ‘Lemme read that part of your letter.” When he had finished, ‘“‘There might be something to this,”’ he said. “T’ve seen bokoo makin’s bein’ used by Hoarder and his commissary crew since he got to be regimental supply sergeant. Just like that louse to be holdin’ out on us. I’m gonna do a little prowlin’ around, and in the meantime the play is to keep quiet.” There followed on the part of the prowling cawpril a day of high-grade sleuthing. The results of Slim’s investigation prompted further effort. He hunted up the top kick. “*Next time you need a work detail around headquarters warehouse, handlin’ groceries or anything, I wish you'd let my gang take a crack at it. They’re about fed up on the weather—coughin’ their heads off from the rain. The next time Shorty the cook needs any grocery jugglers when he draws his rations, how about lettin’ my outfit take the job? A little indoor work might keep us all from ketching the flu.” “Where d’ya git this indoor-work idea? You run out of telephone lines? How about that Paris wire you were gonna connect up between the frog Central and the colonel’s headquarters in the big burg?” “‘Lissen, top, you run the Army and let me run this wire stuff. Under your hat, we been stallin’ a week on that Paris wire job so as to have an excuse to go to town whenever we craved to. I got the Paris wire run into headquarters switchboard a week ago. Ten minutes’ work is all it needs to con- nect it up. That’s the dope, and you needn’t spill it around any. Over and above all that, **Lissen to That Sawed-Off Son of a Gun Hand it Out!” One of the Home Guard Commented. ‘‘I Don't See Why Them Birds Stand for It. He’s a Bad Actor” how about the indoor job for my gang next time Shorty wants a crew?” “O. K. with me,” the top consented. “Tell Shorty about it. Fer the love of the dog-robbin’ quartermaster, lend me the makin’s, will you, Slim? I haven’t had a smoke since yesterday.” “T can stake you to a chew off of a French cigar I bought fer two francs. That’s the best I can do in the nicotine line. Here, don’t dig too deep with them fangs, either. Spit out the sawdust and the feathers when you come to *em and that tobacco don’t taste so dog-gone bad.” Leaving the top, Slim hunted up the company cook. “Shorty,” he began, “‘lissen heavy to what I got to say.” For the next five minutes, interrupting the orator only once for the purpose of pouring out a couple of shots of lemon extract, Shorty listened. “Leave it to me, boy,” he said when Slim had finished. “Tomorrow is issue day. Tomorrow I grabs your squad. Tell em to report here after breakfast. You better explain May 25, 1929 part of the deal to ’em so they don’t massacree me when I begin to git rough.” “T’ll tell ’em. Go as far as you like.” “Right! If you got any spare jack, you better split with me. I’m short, and this deal will need bokoo francs.” “That’s your grief. I been broke fer two weeks—me and the squad. They ain’t francs enough in my gang to pad an aviator’s bunion. Fight that franc battle yourself, and if you lose, let me know and we'll try to git some off of the loot.” “Fair enough. You be sure to tell them wild men I don’t mean nothin’ when I start ridin’ ’em.” “They'll be wise. When the big ridin’ begins, it’ll be me in the saddle and that sidewinder of a Hoarder gittin’ rode. I aim to ride him plenty before very long.” To Squad 1, ten minutes before taps blew that night “Lissen, gang,” Slim said, “the big play is framed like I told you. One thing I forgot. When Shorty begins to baw! you out, take it smilin’, without no comebacks. His roar is phony, but it’s got to sound natural. Git me?”’ “We git you. If we’re lucky enough to cop the cigarette prize in this layout, Shorty can call me anything he pleases. I'd give a month’s deductions fer a sack of makin’s.” Taps blew, and Squad 1 settled down to dream of tailor-made ciga- rettes in carload lots and sacks of flake tobacco as big as bales of hay. While Squad 1 slept and dreamed its tantalizing vi- sions, the company cook was wide awake. Shorty was trying his best to ruin Nick the Greek, who, running a blackjack game in a back room of a near-by café, was far enough ahead to render him deaf to . bugles loaded with taps. “Hit me!” Shorty ordered. “It’s pay or bust.” Nick the Greek flapped a face card which took the vic- tim over the top. Shorty gave a grunt of disgust and walked around the blackjack table until he could speak a pri- vate message into one of the overhang- ing ears anchored to the cranium of Nick the Greek. “‘Lissen,”’ he said, “how about a ten- derloin steak? You got me broke, and the rest of these guys is runnin’ mighty light. C’mon to the cook shack while I issue some private chow and a shot of coffee with coonyak enough in it to curl your hair.” “I go weeth you, Shorty. . . . Real tenderloin steak?”’ The tenderloin steak and other favors cost Nick the Greek the loan of his bank roll. ‘All I want is to use them francs till pay day. You got to be mighty careful with that game, Nick. Somebody might blow on you, and from then on you'd be breakin’ rocks fer the Army free of charge. You know what the loot said about heavy gam’lin’.” Blackmailed, Nick the Greek surrendered. ‘‘ Take thees money, Shorty. Pay me back whenever you get ready.” Shorty pocketed the roll. Next morning, reporting to Slim when the latter had led Squad 1 over to report on the commissary work detail, “Ease your mind about the coin, big boy,” Shorty said. “I got bokoo jack to play with.” “You bust the Greek?” “Well, you might call it that. I was about to bust him with a meat cleaver, but he backed down. The gang un- derstand about the rough lingo I got to baptize ’em with?” “TI told ’em. Go the limit—and good luck.” (Continued on Page 73) —— ~¥

Page 57

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 55 A Z NOTHING ROLLS LIKE A BALL In Winning Racing Cars For seven consecutive years New Departure equipped cars have won the gruelling Indianapolis Motor Speedway Race, the International Classic of the year. In 1928, the makers and drivers of 37 of the 38 cars entered chose New Departure Ball Bearings as exclusive equipment—an overwhelming tribute by men who staked their reputations and their lives on New > Departure strength, endurance and efficiency. Because of these same qualities, New Departures are preferred by the builders and owners of most of America’s passenger cars. THE NEW DEPARTURE MFG. COMPANY, BRISTOL, CONN, World's Largest Ball Bearing Manufacturer EW DEPARTURE | _ SALL BEARINGS

Page 58

56 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 ART AND ARTFUL ART HE works which the faker palms off on the public are generally the replicas of or assimilations to something very fine, something infi- nitely more beautiful than the generality of men would otherwise possess. Little besides the history is false. Genu- ine objets de vertu are both too scarce and too costly to accommodate the modern demand. It may be objected that honest reproductions would perform the function of education or dissemination more economically and effi- ciently, but even this is open to doubt. A recognized re- production never gives the romantic satisfaction of an unsuspected fake. Still more important, the public will not have imitations if it is admitted to the secret. I speak from long and sorrowful experience, and if I seem to justify either myself or my fellows in artistic artfulness—well, we need it. Objets d’art, as ve have learned to call them, play a part hardly inferior to that of pictures in the furnishing of a home and in the life of the collector and his dear foe, the faker. Indeed, of recent years the trend has been away from paintings and toward other art goods, partly because of the abandonment of houses and resort to apartments in the big cities; partly on the advice of interior decorators, some of whom are incompetent to judge or select paint- ings and often are the veriest amateurs and tradesmen; and partly because of public distrust of thedealers. Funda- mentally and permanently, of course, a fine painting in oil is the art object supreme, the aristocrat of decorative pos- sessions. I state this fact for the benefit of the many who have been led astray by crazes and fugitive tendencies. At the same time, the importance of other cultural prod- ucts and accessories of elegance is not to be gainsaid, and I shall deal here exclusively with such things as were once almost slightingly referred to as bric-a-brac, curios, an- tiques, and the like. Today they command both respect and prices. It follows like a Q. E. D. that they have been and are being faked. The law of faking is concealed here— namely, that whatever becomes expensive, from a Venus to an old bottle, by that token grows perilous. The fake follows the flag of price. Though i set out in life to be a virtuous painter, and had no intention, when first misled into commerce, beyond the purveying of vicarious beauty on ersatz canvas, oppor- tunity, that cheat and cozener of men, soon made a gen- eral fraud of me. As best I can recall now, it began with Phenician tear jars. lf Yeu Have Tears, Here is Your Chance \ J OST readers will be familiar with these little greenish 4¥i or golden, iridescent bottles and flasks, called Pheni- cian for no better reason than that the great traders of antiquity imitated and disseminated the glassware of Egypt. The little ancient glass tubes, probably used for scents, got the name “lachrymatories" and a romantic tradition from the fact that many of them were found in Egyptian, Greek, Carthaginian and Roman cemeteries, where they were supposed to have been buried with the tears of mourners; occasionally a truth perhaps. On ac- count of their shapes and strange luster, as much as be- cause of the legend connected with them, these little bits of glass came into recognition at the beginning of the nineteenth century and were still highly popular with minor collectors when I began business. They never brought really high prices, except in the case of a few fine museum specimens. A great deal of false Phenician glass has been made for decades in Italy and other Mediterranean countries for the discomfiture of the infatuated tourist. Just as the guide of twenty years ago used to stumble and kick an ancient Roman coin from the dust of the Forum, albeit the thing had been made a few weeks before in the garret of some ingenious numismatist, so the oily and vocable convoyer of the succulent American visitor to antique burial sites has known how to do a little impromptu digging, with the in- evitable discovery of tear glasses such as now ornament many of our parlor curio cabinets. Modern glass, belonging to the past three centuries, is, as most will know, one of the current crazes. What seems to have escaped the attention of some of our collectors is the fact that many grades and varieties of blown and cut glass are being reproduced in Czecho-Slovakia and exported in huge quantities. Imitations of American Stiegel glass and molded glass genera'ly are also reported, but I personally have yet to sec any samples that might pass muster with any but the saddest tyro. Since ournativeglassis, however, As Told to Edward H. Smith growing more expensive every season, we may confidently expect better fakes in the near future, if that thought affords any comfort. The reproduction of old glass has reached almost in- credible proportions. All the curious person has to do for conviction is to visit the smart shops. He will find whole sets, of a hundred or more pieces, absolutely complete and undamaged, offered for sale at prices ranging from twelve hundred to two thousand dollars each. Such services cost nearly a thousand dollars to make and import, so that profit taken by dealers in these wares is not excessive. Need- less to say, there are few whole sets of antique glass ex- tant; if there were their price would be out of all reach. Nevertheless, palpable reproductions are sold every day, and not always under their true colors. The good people who buy them wouldn’t deign to look at them if they weren't supposed to be old. Ceramics are an older vogue than glass, and the more gross frauds are no longer quite so easy, owing to the Ultimate Challenge By HARRY KEMP SPECIALLY if their lading be a dream, Ships must go lonely if they’d voyage far ; Feeling the upsurge, through each brace and beam, Of fuming oceans; top and shrouded spar Set to the following of a single star! There’s no safe compass, when the hidden gleam Sits behind clouds, and when blind tempests stream, Except the guiding laurel faith would wear! There often bide black gales and bursting beams And sails that fly in rags from broken spars; | There are no charts for ships that follow dreams And crowd up sails against the beckoning stars. Don't sign aboard unless you're certain you Can dare a wreck and deem it glory too! public’s knack of getting suspicious after every season of disastrous credulity. For many years the traffic in imita- tion Lowestoft vases was heavy, and the losses to inex- perienced collectors were sad. Many imitation Chinese pieces have been made in France. A few years ago this faked Chino-European ware brought high prices at auction and in the shops of dealers. Chinese ceramics of nearly all the desirable periods are, to be sure, being fairly skillfully reproduced in Japan and may be found in America. These counterfeits do not de- ceive the expert or even the experienced amateur, but they nevertheless find their way into the homes of many honest but green lovers of beauty. There are also numerous Chinese factories which are turning out all manner of mod- ernizations to satisfy the craze, which still persists with persons of a certain level of taste. Probably there is no original purpose of offering such wares as old, but when a fool steps into the lair of a faker centuries pass in the twin- kling of an eye and yesterday’s brummagem becomes the treasure of antiquity. The vogue of Tanagra figurines as well as that of ancient bronze statuettes has passed, largely owing to the multi- plicity of frauds. Nevertheless, specimens of both these charming families crop up ever and again, often with the usual painful results. The little Boeotian terra cottas, first found about 1875 in the necropolis at Tanagra, and since dug up in large quantities from many ancient burial sites all over Greece, enjoyed a tremendous popularity because of their grace and charm. They came very near dispelling the enduring tradition of Boeotian vulgarity. A real Tan- agra is, accordingly, not only a choice antique but a thing of intrinsic beauty and cultural nota- bility, but such things are full of peril for the amateur. Imitations are made by taking a cast from an original. Be- cause the clay shrinks in drying and baking, the fakes are usually somewhat smaller than the genuine, but since there was no standard size in old times this disparity can mean very little unless one has the genuine piece in hand for comparison. Old bronzes are imitated in much the same way, by making models from them in clay or wax and then prepar- ing molds in which the new pieces are formed. Both bronze and terra cotta are readily aged and provided with the all- important patina by artificial means. Collectors of any experience know this and avoid such treasures. Brass, which has been and remains popular, affords one of the broadest possible fields for faking. New York once was the brass center for this country, and its landmarks were three or four dim shops, where dusty accumulations of brasses might be pawed over and occasional treasures found. A ten-dollar bill was usually enough to fetch even the largest and most obvious piece in these murky curi- osity shops—but no more. All kinds of old brasses have doubled, quadrupled, and finally magnified in price until good pieces that might have commanded three or four dollars before the war may bring fifty times as much. Doubling in Brass ANDLESTICKS of early American, English, Russian and Dutch make; Italian and German brass plaques; Dutch, Russian and English candelabra; Italian, Russian and Dutch wall sconces; Turkish, Persian and Mesopota- mian bowls and Eastern brass articles in general—all bring good prices and all are, naturally, being faked. Brass, even more readily than bronze, can be mishandled, treated with acids, artificially aged and covered with antique-looking oxidation, or patina. The naive buyer is deceived with the utmost ease and, owing to the fact that brasses do not bring really high prices, there are few competent experts. Old marbles are, of course, among the most beautiful and precious of all the curiosities to which one may devote him- self. By that token the artistic bit of Carrara stands as one of the perilous and abasing lures for the festive hunter after objets d’art. The faking of old marbles, no matter what their period or character, is a work for artists, and the success with which it is done depends largely upon the abil- ity of the imitator. That the thing has at times been carried out with amazing skill is attested by the fact that certain fifteenth and sixteenth century Italian fakes of Roman and Greek marbles stand today as museum pieces on their own merit. The fakes themselves have become precious. Strangely enough, fake marbles have no terrors for the commen sucker. For him the frank reproductions which may be seen in shops at popular resorts are sufficient lure. He may buy these things as something old or original if he likes, but no such pretension is made. The pieces are frankly reproductions, and the artist-mechanie who pro- duces them is usually on the spot to show his method of working. The only catch lies in the prices exacted from uninformed tourists. An entirely different kind of marble appears in the shops of some dealers and occasionally in the auctions. Such pieces are usually made in Europe—most often in Italy. They are generally assimilations to genuine treasures of the past. The fakers who make them go about their work as the original sculptors undoubtedly did, by modeling in clay, casting in plaster and copying in the marble. The style, faults, attitudes and technic of the ancients are sedu- lously copied. But when all this is done the faker has still nothing but a new piece. He must now make it old. The first step is to reproduce the ravages of time. The reproduction is chipped with the chisel or the hammer, scuffed with various abrasives and robbed of its sharp corners and fresh edges with acids, by rubbing, by brush- ing and in a variety of other ways. If the imitation is to be palmed off as a Renaissance or later European piece, sup- posed to have stood in private collections for several cen- turies, it must be given the old ivory hue which fine marbles take on under the gentle hand of age. This is accomplished by dipping and touching with various chemical solutions. Copperas, or green vitriol, is one of the commoner sub- stances employed. Other sulphates are likewise employed for this purpose, and they must be applied by someone who knows his business, for a marble does not color uni- formly. Only the student and artist can duplicate that (Continued on Page 59)

Page 59

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Set aside Saturday, June Ist, to view Marquette—the newest triumph of Buick craftsmanship. Designed by Buick engineers—and priced within the reach of millions—this new car will lead its field as Buick leads the higher price division. Buick Motor Company, Flint, Michigan - Division of General Motors Corporation WHEN BETTER AUTOMOBILES ARE BUILT... BUICK WILL BUILD THEM

Page 60

58 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 SPR ere Be ea The PRICE You Pay Jor those Squeaks in your car | ls Far More than Embarrassment and Annoyance ' . a ey i. te — Every Squeak Means Burning Friction—and Friction Means Lack of Proper Lubrication—the Cause of 80% of All Repair Bills A car that squeaks is far more than an annoyance. It’s a costly proposition. Squeaks mean metal rubbing against metal—destruc- tive friction calling for ImMEDIaTE LuBRICATION. Proper lubrication means quiet, economical driving. Improper lubrication means noise and embarrass- ment, expense and trouble. 80% of all repair bills are charged to improper lubrication of cars. Correct use of the Alemite equipment on your car is the answer. Not greasing at unknown irresponsible Greasing Stations—sometimes with greases totally unfitted for use in the Alemite Systems, but scientif ically correct lubrication—Alemite-ing at authorized Alemite-ing Stations. Your Protection Genuine Alemite-ing stations now are everywhere. The yellow sign shown here identifies them. Efficient mechanics serve you in those stations. Genuine Ale- mite Lubricants, especially for use in the Alemite Systems and developed by the makers of those systems tl | . are used in those stations. Consider what hemselves that means Go to them for service. Ask to have your car Alemited. You will find, as thousands of motorists everywhere ive found, that Most Repair BILLs are avoidable. Find, too, squeakless riding, longer car life and far greater pleasure from your car. What Alemite-ing Consists Of 1. BearinGs: Alemite High Pressure Lubricant forced into every vital chassis bearing with Alemite equip- — = — ———— — | We Use Genuine ; i | Over 95% of the cars selling today, including the new Ford, are equipped with either the Alemite or Alemite Push Type System. Both are equally efficient. In buying Alemite fittings be sure that the word “Alemite”’ is stamped on the body as shown at left ALEMITE ALEMITE PUSH TYPE ment by expert Alemite mechanics—every 500 miles. 2. Gears: Differential and transmission thoroughly flushed out by a special Alemite process. New Alemite Gear Lubricant forced in—every 2,500 miles. 3. Sprincs: Springs sprayed with special Alemite Graphite Penetrating Oil—every 500 miles. Elimi- nating ALL spring squeaks and making the car run immeasurably smoother. Wherever you see one of the signs shown above, just drive your car in and try this service. You will notice an immediate difference in the way your car runs. » * * Alemite Manufacturing Corporation, Division of Stewart-Warner, 2666 N. Crawford Avenue, Chicago, Ill. Canadian Address: The Alemite Products Com- pany of Canada, Ltd., Belleville, Ontario. , ~ . A New Service Ask your dealer, garage or service man for details on the new Alemite Service. R. A. S.—Recorded Alemite Service. A plan that will warrant a remarkable in- crease in the resale value of your car. A plan endorsed and sponsored by leading car dealers throughout the country ...R. A. S.—get details from dealer, garage or service stations

Page 61

ae (Continued from Page 56) varied and finely shaded discolor which is so characteristic of fine old stone. On the other hand, if the imitated piece is to pass for an ancient work dug up from classic soil, the process of coloring will be quite different, for the marble must show the discolorations due to contact with the earth and its minerals. To attain this effect all kinds of methods are employed. Old ivories of every period and character are reproduced by a somewhat similar tech- nic. First, the crucifix, the jewel box, the Chinese animal figurine or Buddha, the diptych, icon, mirror case, statuette or whatever it may be must be carved in imi- tation of the period to be represented, with the characteristic naiveté and preferably with tools then in use. This done, it must be rubbed and toned. The cracks which are so common to old ivories are readily produced by alternate chilling and quick heating. Putting a Suit on a Button But with all such fakes the matter of reproduction is only the first and, I think, the least important step. Remarking once more that anything can be successfully imi- tated if the man who does the work has the knowledge, artistic ability and patience, it by no means follows that the product, be it ever so excellent, will find a market that will yield enough to pay for the trouble taken. An imitation old ivory or marble, produced under modern conditions and at modern wages, could not possibly be of- fered as what it is, for it would not fetch the workman’s hire. Armor, of course, owes its rage to snob- bery. It came into popularity first in France after the bourgeois revolution of 1830, when all the democrats of the king- dom found it expedient to possess what might pass with some as the evidences of knightly descent. Since that time the mania has spread to all countries. There may be said to be just two kinds of fraudulent armor—that made for the tyro and that created for the more exacting taste. For that matter, this distinction pertains in all classes of fakes, to be sure. The armorers of today are mostly German, Swiss and French, with a few Belgians and Italians chiming in. Armor faking, like picture faking, may be total or partial. It is a common and probably a legitimate practice to take ruined suits of old mail, from which parts are missing, and restore them with modern sections. As in the case of old paintings, the question will always rise as to the point at which restoration ends and fraud begins. Some of my happy colleagues seem to hold that so long as there is a single link or but- ton belonging to medievalism the attached iron gent’s furnishings must be regarded as authentic. Thus a vestigial tail is often made to wag a very large dog. The armor fakers of whom I have spoken despise any such concessions THE SATURDAY Once more the difficulty reposes in the finish, in that ineffable charm and distinc- tion which only time can add to the prod- ucts of human artistry. Some of this aging is again accomplished by rubbing, acid baths, and the like, but the chief reliance is placed upon natural rust and discolora- tion. To bring this effect out as rapidly as pos- sible, the finished and articulated suits of armor are buried in very damp ground. At the proper time they are exhumed or ex- hydrated, cleaned, toned and presented to the waiting world. Which brings us to the subject of rugs. Early American floor coverings of the kind now in considerable demand to accompany the highly popular Colonial furniture have as yet received slight notice from the faker, mainly for the reason that they do not com- mand large prices. There is a good deal of misrepresentation rife, to be sure, but it usually takes the form of offering early nineteenth-century rugs and mats for sam- ples of earlier handiwork. Since hooked and other handmade rugs are still commonly produced in various older communities, par- ticularly in Nova Scotia, New England, up-state New York and Pennsylvania, some modern reproductions also get to the mar- ket, but these are so readily detected that the collector of even the narrowest experi- ence ought not to be cheated. The yarns and stuffs available today are different from those used in the days adjacent to the Revo- lution, and from these any fraud may be read with ease. On the other hand, the very function of collecting rare and artistic specimens of Ori- ental rugs would furnish material to read like the adventures of an explorer combined with the spirit of the devotee of beauty. The men who have made the attempt in re- cent years to bring exceptional pieces out of Persia, Turkestan, Bokhara and other East- ern lands deserve to rank with the heroes of the hunt and the pole quest. Aged in the Dirt It will interest all those who own fine old rugs to know that the supply of such pieces is practically exhausted. Even twenty years ago Persia had been combed again and again by rug collectors and dealers from all over the earth. At that time, how- ever, the rug bazaar at Constantinopie was still rich with fine coverings. The first authorities on this subject tell me that the end of really artistic Eastern rugs has been reached. Even the finer grades of com- mercial rugs having sufficient age and merit to make them valuable are becoming more and more rare every day, and their prices may be expected to show this fact more clearly as the years go by. All older rugs are, of course, more va uable than those made in recent years, especially since the outbreak of the Great War. One reason for this is the fact that an Oriental to respectability, and make every- thing to order. In European countries the practice is to make up the various parts from the antique kinds of metals with the tools used by the armorers of chival- rous times. The character of these metals is, to be sure, well known, and the tools may be copied from those in many museums. In this way we get a prod- } uct that is very | @Rewen hard to distinguish from the genuine. Remodeler: Shows What Vision and Imagination Can Do. This Little Shack I Knew How I Could Fix it Up" EVENING POST rug requires many years of use on the dirt floors of Eastern houses, pressed by the un- shod feet of the natives, to acquire the tone and ripeness necessary to beauty. Most of these rugs as originally woven are barbaric and garish in color. They have color, but not tone. With modern rugs this tone is achieved artificially, by washing with various acids and other bleaches. Once this toning was done in the East. Later it was taken up by the importers in this country. Bales of rugs, as they came from the ships, were treated and made ready for showing by the whole- salers. The point of importance to the buyer is that a treated rug will last from one-fourth te one-half as long as a rug that has been aged. Forty years of wear under Eastern conditions add to the value of any carpet. One trip to the chemical works will probably take at least 50 per cent out of a carpet’s life. The rare rugs are the Ispahans, of Persia; the Kubas, of the Eastern Caucasus; the Joshagans, also Persian; and the Ghiordes and Kulas, from Anatolia. Antique Chi- nese rugs must also be mentioned here, with the reservation that they must be antique, | Exterior Decoration In the most recent years a few good old Samarkand rugs, made at the ancient cap- ital of Tamerlane in the first years of the nineteenth century, proved a happy dis- covery, since they were Persian in weave and Chinese in feeling. Good specimens were rare, however, and the supply was exhausted in four or five years. Old Bok- haras will soon bring very high prices. Of commercial rugs the high-grade Sarouk is now the best. Rug faking today, aside from the low and common trick of imposing a cheap make on ignorant people for one of better antecedents, is confined to the reproduction of antique pieces and their artificial aging. The usual practice is to make a replica of some beautiful and rare old carpet in one of the modern factories with which the East now abounds, and then subject it to various treatments which are designed to make it look like a genuine product of the colorful old days. Such rugs are first toned by chem- ical means, then rewashed to remove any traves of the media, and next sandpapered on the back to simulate the effects of wear, scorched, rubbed with dirt, touched here and there with somber dyes, worn on the nap by rubbing, and finally shipped off to that dear America where every man is rich and a sucker. Sad to chronicle, a good many of these spurious pieces have lured the money out of easy bank accounts by the thousands. English garden ornaments —a charming substitute for the iron dogs, stags and nymphs of our fathers’ front lawns —are in demand. A good leaden pair of the Queen Anne or Georgian period may fetch two thousand dollars or roe more. Unfortu- : nately, there are, outside Hampton Court, Knole Park, and a few other well- known British seats, very few authentic examples left. These objects are of cast lead and often painted outside to protect them from weathering. Time deals ungently with lead, and ornaments old enough to be in- teresting are not strewn by many waysides. Accord- ingly the fakes are numerous and the tales of imposture varied. [myself have passed through some harrowing adven tures with these out- door decorations AAW BY G. 8. Nw Soon as I Saw 59 CIWEEY, THE ACTS LITTLE CIGARS JOSEPH SCHILOKRAUT STARRING IN UNIVERSAL PICTURES Well known members of the BETWEEN THE ACTS CLUB Throwing away a half-smoked cigar be- cause you haven't time to fini«h it is like being called away from dinner just as the soup’s brought on. It's no fun at all. Which explains the growing popularity these days of BETWEEN-THE-ACTS .. . Uhe L5¢ cigar in 10 installments. Sized to fit the busy man’s smoking moments yet packed from tip to light with real Havana charm. And economical! There's not a penny’s waste in a packetful. Smoke 10 and see It's worth 13¢ te know how good these little cigars are. If your dealer can’t supply you mail 15¢ (stamps or coins) for « peckage. P. Lorillard Co., Inme., 119 Weet 40th Street, New York, N. + oe fF LORILLARD OMPANY ESTABLISHED 1760

Page 62

60 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 artoon and Comedy

“Never in my thirty “Mr. Mc Whoosis, “T have it! Do you happen to | years’ experience with you have » THE own a ranch in Wyoming? the youth of the Nation na / SoRROwFU — have | encountered se THe BELiever such an outrageous my, mee SYMPATHIZER / instance of — . (Wisconcrican) IN THE GREAT a OPEN Spaces

(Pennraverre)

“Ah, yes— § a =| Why, there's I just wanted ~ =? nothing wrong with lo see what “ the boy beyond a mere excess of animal

“Do we mean

" to expel him? his father looked Well 1. ” . yes lik spirits! and no” on

THe CAPITALIZER OF INDIGNATION

| THE INCONCLUSIVE

pee, Sew ) THE GENIAL 1, , . ~ THe Casuar REASSURER DETERMINER FOR LP-TO-THE- “How, may | ask, did * CURIOSITY SEEKER (ConnumBia) (BRowNcETON) — veh n to solect (Hanmoutn) : TVT ‘orbin University for - “ ~ M l N U T E M E N this doubtful experiment? »“—— Is a re an unfortunate > his home ; y \ environ- ” something’ ment?” eo Mew who keep pace with the fast-mov- ing pulse of modern life are always on the alert for quicker, better ways of \ loing things. That's why so many THE MorBio PROBER (DartTHERST) THe BROWBEATER THE SARCASTIC (CALivapa) EXCORIATOR ORAWN BY DONALD MC REE successful, up-to-the-mimute men use

Squibb’s Shaving Cream.

Squibb’s is literally made for men who like to do things quickly and well. Its speedy, smooth-running work—its , DEANS WE HAVE KNOWN freshness and its easy comfort give vou a new idea of shaving satisfaction. Lather up with Squibb’s Shaving Cream tomorrow morning. Notice the

brisk, clean-cut way the razor slides

wer your face. Feel how braced-up

} ind freshened your skin is at the finish.

“quibb’s Shaving Cream is sold at THE YOUN ook A et, BTION, WITH hyp Genes THEIR Paha, wie iR INTEMPERANCE 1 NESS: gles aT THE FLOUTING of LO MARRIAGE RELATION! 2 REBELLION AGAINST Ane w AND ORDER! LOOK ar at THE SAPS “THAT Fite OUR COLLEGES ! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN _Z IT MEANS CHAOS! il] drug stores, in large-sized tubes. Priced very reasonably at 40c. SHAVING CREAM By SQUIBB

arn | Se THOUSANDS OF SERIOUS STUDENTS.| TROUSA © 1929 by E. R. Squibb & Sons

SUOUSANDS OF CONSTRUCTIVE “THINKERS | THOUSANDS OF DUTIFUL CHILDREN —————

. o AND A -FEW MILLION MOR

ORAWN BY NATE COLLIER

The Calamity Howler—and the Millions of Real Peopie He Overlooks

Page 63

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LOYALTY SUCH AS FEW LEADERS KNOW This message is not an advertisement in the usual sense of that term. It makes no attempt to sell a single Buick automobile. It is rather an acknowledgment to more than two million Buick owners, who have awarded Buick the finest tribute ever paid to any motor cay. Men rarely extend the gift of friendship to any but living things. But the word friendship is the only term that describes the tie existing between hundreds of thousands of men and women and the Buick car. These men and women ... and Buick... are old friends. They have worked and played together for years, and remained true to each other all the time. And together they have written the most wonderful chapter in all motor car history, and perhaps in the history of all manufactured products. More than eighty per cent of this great family of owners buy Buicks again and again—the most impressive record of owner allegiance ever won by any motor car. Some have purchased as many as ten—fifteen — even twenty Buick cars—during the quarter- century that Buick has been building automobiles. Moreover, these owners alone purchase more Buicks, year after year, than the total production of any other individual car in the Buick field. It is these old friends—and an ever-increasing number of new friends —that have enabled Buick to perpetuate its record of winning more than twice as many buyers as any other car priced above $1200. Buick has given to the world its most favored quality automobile; but these men and women have given to Buick something even more precious. They have given Buick loyalty such as few leaders know —and the inspiration to still greater achieve- ment. Is it any wonder that the builders of Buick exert every effort to repay them with a finer and finer Buick—that friendship so pleasant may go on forever. BUICK MOTOR COMPANY, FLINT, MICHIGAN Division of General Motors Corporation Canadian Factory: McLaughlin-Buick, Oshawa, Ontario WHEN BETTER AUTOMOBILES ARE BUILT ° BUICK WILL FO BUILD THEM °

Page 64

62 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST He needn’t have Worried THE SLOWEST TOWN ON EARTH =—By Wallace Irwin if he’d shaved with Small-Bubble Lather Now that morning shave can last much longer. Closer shaving than ever gives millions of men new satisfaction. SHAVE that lasts... what man LAX does not seek it? And how easy to attain it now that small-bubble lather has been perfected by Col- gate chemists. More moistute at the base of the hairs—so they cut off closely. Note the comparative pic- tures... you'll see the point. Better still, vou'll feel the difference, once you try Colgate’s. The minute you lather up with Colgate’s, two things happen: 1.—The soap in the lather breaks up the oil film that covers each hair. 2.—Bil- lions of tiny, moisture-laden bubbles seep down through your beard . . . crowd around each whisker . . . soak it soft with water. FREE! A whole week's better shaves. Just mail the coupon below. Instantly your beard gets moist and pliable . . . limp and lifeless . . . scientifically softened right down at the base . . . ready for your razor. Thousands of men, after various trials with ordinary lathers, have adopted Colgate’s as supreme. To prove its superiority, mail the cou- pon below. We will send also, a sample of After-Shave, a new lotion —refreshing, delightful . . . the per- fect shave finale. ORDINARY LATHER COLGATE LATHER Colgate’s lather (great!y magnified) showing mois- ture contact with beard and minimum air. A common-sense principle, scientijically authenticat- ed and proved out by millions of men. Ordinary, big-bubble lather (greatly magni- fied). Note air-filled bubbles which can't soften the beard smuffi- ciently. Only watercando petmit sufficient water. COLGATE, Dept. B-1756, 595 Fifth Avenue, New York Please send me, FREE, the seven-day trial tube of Colgate’s Rapid Shave Cream; also a sample bottle of “After-Shave.” May 25,1929 Grover Whalen’s Perfect Plan SCENE I | [New York. A surface view of Somewhere | near Fifth Avenue. The barricade is very dense, suggesting sudden violence. Seven steam shovels stand at pause like dinosaurs with wagging jaws. Seven red wagons block the right; they’re plainly labeled Dynamite. Twenty-two blue piano vans | lean listlessly against the curb near eighty | trucks of garbage cans marked, Driver Resting, Don’t Disturb. | One traffic arrow points to east and one | severely points to west. THE PERFECT Cop | inspired by yeast, pulls a tin whistle from | his vest. He blows tweet-tweet, which | plainly proves his heart’s all right—but | nothing moves. A SERGEANT saunters down the beat and seems to say, ‘It’s time to eat.” THE SERGEANT (pulls a typewrit screed and languidly begins to read): | “General Orders Forty-nine: Turn all the eastbound traffic north | Up to the zodiacal sign Of Capricorn, then back henceforth. Reverse the one-way streets and stress Rule 60, Column X—see Crime No parking is allowed unless The car’s in motion all the time. “P.S.: If questions should arise On any Rule or Regulation, See Mr. Whalen, who'll advise Quite cheerfully on application.” THE PERFECT Cop: Good morning, good morning, good morning, friend Sergeant, With buttons of gold and insignia argent, Be friendly and answer my question: When I’ve just seen a murder that’s very atrocious, How can I give chase to the villain fero- cious If stopped by the traffic congestion? SERGEANT: Why bother your head with the problems of crime? | Your duty’s the traffic—one job at a time. [A truck, containing paving stone, hits some- thing with a gassy groan. | CHORUS OF TRUCKMEN: | O holiday! O holiday! What very charming weather. If here we have to spend our lives Away from home and hearth and wives, We're glad we are together. Tra-la. Tra-la. For we can sing and dance and swear, Play round-the-ring and solitaire. Like birdies of a feather, We're glad we are together. | [But lo! What's this? With shake and shiver a STRANGER in a time-worn flivver floats through the mess in frail distress like card- board on a swollen river. THE PERFECT Cop (without boloney, but falling back on ceremony): Hey, whaddaya think ya are, And wheredaya think ya’re goin’? And whaddaya got and whaddaya say, And whaddaya mean when ya say it, hey? And whydaya sit there blowin’? ‘ THE STRANGER (falling from his seat and sitting weakly in the street): Be merciful, be pitiful, O Cop with shining brow! I’ve come to this great city and you’ll not desert me now. Renew my hopes. You know the ropes. You’re young and big and strong. Now harken to my story, for I’ll not be very long. VoICEs FROM THE VANS: Tell your story, kid; we’ll love it. Take your time; there’s plenty of it. u THE SERGEANT (in a bass Wagnerian as ’ beer Bavarian): Stranger, before you proceed further, Relate to me, explain to me, Just how you got on this here street. FULL CHOoRUs: O horrors! O terrors! How does HE know, How do WE know, How does ANYONE know Just how we got on this here street? THE STRANGER (points to a building high two blocks off as the airships fly): My destination’s over there. Alas! My cheek is lined with care Where once it showed a dimple. I thought it was so simple THE PERFECT Cop: Ah, don’t you know, deluded man, That since we drew our Traffic Plan There’s nothing really simple? THE SERGEANT: Lean on my arm and take your ease. Now tell your story, if you please. THE STRANGER: My name is Tibbs. I come from Needle’s ; oye, A town so small the map doth scarce record it. We have to flag the trains when they go by, We have no night clubs, for we can’t afford it. Right up the street you'll find the village store; We visit folks by walking there and back, sir. It don’t take long to finish any chore Because our town is off the beaten track, sir. Of yore my cousin, Reginald Van Doo, Moved to New York and prospered in insurance. Last month he wrote me saying, “Why don’t you Seek the Great City, shake your rustic durance, Come where all life is sped by lively wires, Make one with Hustle and with Rapid Motion? Here’s my street number.” So I patched my tires And came—oh, woe, why did I take the notion? (Continued on Page 64)

Page 65

THE SATURDAY EVENING WHAT IS BE GRIGSBY-GRU POST The two Armitage Avenue Chassis plants contain 125 ,000 square feet of floor space and employ 2500 people. Part of the plants shown have just been completed and will require 3000 more employes. HE world knows and acclaims Majestic radio as the most outstanding receiving set ever built—outselling all other makes by so great a margin that wherever Radio is talked of, Majestic is talked of. So meteoric has been the career of Majestic; so tremendous has been its sale, so universal its popularity, that only a very few have come to know the real story behind Majestic success—a story that reads like a chapter from Arabian Nights, yet one that is packed with hard business sense and sound merchandising principles. It is due the public to know something about the organization behind Majestic, which made possible the slogan that has swept America, the slogan that is true, and the slogan that the public believes—‘‘ You can't buy a better radio set than Majestic at any price.’’ The four plants at Dickens Avenue are 375,000 square feet in area, and in them 4500 employes make the cabi- nets, speakers and power packs. Unlike Topsy, Majestic didn’t ‘‘just grow”’ — Majestic is the realization of a dream, as all great business successes are realizations of the indomitable spirit of wishing to do something better for the world than has ever been done before. Back of Majestic radio is an organization of men who have put their souls and hearts into building a product better and finer, at a price so low that the whole world may enjoy all the thrills and ali the pleasures of niodern radio. Starting with this ideal—the will to accomplish — Grigsby-Grunow Company within a short space of seven years has grown from a small plant employing a few people, to its present size, where eight great plants, making every part of the Majestic radio receiver, give employment to more than 8000 people. Each working day niore than 4000 complete Majestic sets are produced in these eight*great factories. Plant No. 7, nearing completion, adds 50,000 square feet of space and will employ 1000 more men and women. More than thirty carloads of steel, fine cabinet woods, wire and other raw materials are received each day, and more than forty carloads of com- In this modern tube plant, 1000 employes are making Majestic Tubes of the same high quality as Majestic Radio Receivers. Every Sunday evening, from 9 to 10 o'clock Eastern Standard Time, Majestic presents headliners of the Stageand Screen over a coast-to-coast hook-up of the Columbia Broad- casting System and the American Broadcasting Company. “~ Time payments in the purchase of Majestic Receivers are financed through the Majestic Plan at lowest available rates. plete Majestic radio sets are shipped out to more than 12,000 Majestic dealers the same dey. To insure its receiving the very finest of raw mate- rials, Grigsby-Grunow’'s own men are stationed at the sources of supply to select the best, and speed its shipment to Chicago. The company operates its own veneer plant, and has even gone so far as to purchase stumpage, to insure a con- stant supply of the best panel woods for cabinet construction. Besides more than 8000 employes in Chicago, asmall army of Grigsby-Grunow field represent- atives travel the entire country, assisting dealers to help you get a greater appreciation of what Majestic is doing and more enjoyment from your Majestic set. The Grigsby-Grunow policy is not to rest on present achievements, but to look into the future. Scores of the finest engineers in the entire field of radio are constantly experiment- ing, testing, and planning to make Majestic a still greater value, and a still greater source of enjoyment. The Majestic story cannot be told in an adver- tisement. But something of the spirit behind the product car be conveyed, that you may under- stand Majestic leadership is not transitory, but reaches into the future. GRIGSBY-GRUNOW COMPANY General Offices: 5801 Dickens Ave. Chicago, Ill. Licensed under patents and applications of R. C. A. and R. F. L., also by Lektiphone, Lowell & Dunmore and Hogan License Associates Majestic Radio-Phonograph Combination fives you—at moderate cost—the greatest instrument for musical entertainment the world has ever seen. Everything in Radio— an electric pick-up, electric motor phonograph —in a cabinet of beautifully matched butt burl walnut.

Page 66

64 (Continued from Page 62) Tue Cop presents a first-aid handkerchief. THE STRANGER (changes meter in his When I drove in to this here town And saw that building high Out flew a cop and signaled, “‘Stop! Turn back, turn back, you guy.” So when I turned, a creature spurned, Lost in a desert drear, On every side the sign I spied, “Keep Moving—Don't Turn Here.” With hopeless honks I crossed the Bronx, Where [ was forced to pause, When twenty cops arrested me For breaking twenty laws. I fled from jail, I jumped my bail And seized the wheel again, And shimmied down Manhattan Isle— Ah, careless hope and vain! Again I found the haughty street Where Reginald Van Doo Retains his lofty office seat— Another whistle blew. “Go west, young man,” a traffic voice Distinctiy said to me. So westward like a haunted thing 1 sought my destinee. Thus, days and days, around and round I've spun as spins the top. I get a summons when I move, Another when I stop. Oh, Sir Policernan, de you think I'll ever reach the spot? THE SERGEANT slowly wags his head and moans, “* Most likely not.” Tre Perrect Cop, with look astute, comes to a very smart salute. His brow shines bright, as if to say, “Oh, goody! I have found the way.” THE Perrect Cop: Oh, this is great. I have a plan To liberate This poor, lost man! Remove the paper from your cap And glance across the Whalen Map Beyond the Zodiacal Sign In General Orders Forty-nine! ALL: Fine! Fine! Celestial sign! Genera! Orders Forty-nine! THE SERGEANT, surveying the paper in question, demonstrates symptoms of faulty digestion. SERGEANT: General Orders Forty-nine, As clear as mud, as sweet as brine. That easy thinker, Doc Ein-stein, Would make a scene And sprain his bean On General Orders Forty-nine. Tue Perrect Cop: Please don’t be stupid, Sergeant, dear. Give me the paper See, it’s clear. W ith gestures which an actor needs to gire effect he siands and reads): “P.S. If questions should arise On any Rule or Regulation, See Mr. Whalen, who'll advise Quite cheerfully on application.” SERGEANT: Patrolman, you've sure saved the day! Now, stranger, be off on your way. If you're lost in the city Don’t ask us for pity, THE SATURDAY But see Mr. Whalen straightway. THE STRANGER: Oh, thank you a thousand times o’er, The jungle I love to explore. If I never return Tell my girl not to yearn And my dog not to yelp at the door. |The fliv rattles on, while a Subway explodes and several coal trucks get rid of their loads, a heavy steel girder comes down with a shock and bumps seven speak-easies out of the block, a criminal lawyer escapes through a van hole while a TAXI QUARTET marches up from a manhole. TAXI QUARTET: Too-ree-lay! Too-ree-lay! We can’t get away, since we're stuck here to stay. Too-ree-lay! Too-ree-lay! And the pride of New York is her Traffic Police. UNCERTAIN CURTAIN SCENE II [The Park by City Hall. Two weeks have passed since did befall the drama we have just beheld. Now see THE STRANGER look- ing eld, and very weary, weak and worn. His hair is long, his coat is torn, and, ah! his sunken eyes now wear a monomaniacal stare. [The City Hall, observed afar, is gay with bunting; star on star and stripe on stripe the banners curl. A band is playing She's My Girl as Mayor WALKER, smartly dressed, steps out to greet a FOREIGN Guest. And now appears the WELL- DRESSED MAN with silken hat and spats of tan, a tie proclaiming haberdash, and that world-advertised mustache. His hand- shake demonstrates such skill the frenzied CROWD enjoys a thrill. THE CRowpD: Our Whalen, oh, our Whalen! Our Prince of Whales, Our King of Males, With energy unfailin’ He shakes the hands of kings and queens And aviators in their teens. Those who from Europe sailin’ With medals won in foreign court Or realms of art or field of sport Must meet the Greeter of the Port, Our Whalen! [Here WHALEN, reaching down beneath his coat, brings out a laurel wreath. THE STRANGER, in a forward rush, is almost beaten into mush, while patriots hiss, ** How dare you, sir?” and others harshly, “* Back, you cur!” THE STRANGER: Again I'm foiled. The plot is spoiled. |He weeps, and from a bench near by an OLD ParRK Bum comes limping nigh and views the wreck with watery eye. OLD PARK Bum: You, too, are working to see Grover, hey? Be warned in time. I tried it in my day. Now I am growing lame and stiff and blind. It can’t be done, boy. Get it off your mind. STRANGER: Ah! But a nice policeman said to me That Whalen was the man that I should see. I came afoot. Last week I took my flivver And tossed it, for convenience, in the river. But now, alas! I stand so very near, How can my words attain the royal ear? EVENING POST [Again the crowd is surging cheer on cheer. The Big Parade is formed, the gang’s all here, while GROVER in becoming coat of black helps the DISTINGUISHED GUESTS into a hack. Envious millions view his dapper shape; the march proceeds through miles of ticker tape. THE STRANGER: That fellow in the hack-hack-hack With medals all hung over, He seems to have no troub-troub-troub, No trouble meeting Grover. THE O. P. Bum: That person in the hack-hack-hack With medals all a-glimmer, He hasn’t any troub-troub-troub— For he’s a Channel swimmer. DUET: A Channel swimmer, a Channel swimmer, No drummer or plumber or milliner’s trimmer Could land such a hand from the grand band stand, Such a Whalen smile with the Whalen style And the Whalen coat with the high silk tile, As the salt-wave skimmer whose waist grows slimmer Through capturing fame as a Channel swimmer. THE STRANGER: Hist-hist! I have a brilliant glimmer! I will be met By Whalen yet— By gosh, I'll be a Channel swimmer! |He rushes to a steamship co. and wildly cries, “‘T want to go to some nice country, near or far, where lois and lots of channels are.” They put him on a liner near, and when the vessel leaves the pier he mutters, “‘ Yea, when I return I'll meet him face to face and learn the Secret Truth for which I yearn.” (The CURTAIN drops, the MUSIC stops.) SCENE III [The action’s brief and snappy. OUR STRANGER, semi-drowned, but happy, lies panting in his trunks of flannel. Just now he’s swum the English Channel. Three lovely witnesses, afloat, approach him in their dory-boat; MERCEDES GLEITZ, the British champ, and GERTRUDE ED-ER- LEE, still damp, and MARY PICKFORD with her tress—we've dragged in Mary, I confess, to make our show a big success. TRIO OF FAIR CHAMPs: Oh, Mr. Tibbs, Oh, Mr. Tibbs, You've broke all records up to date. The muscles bulging from your ribs Have won you fame beyond debate. Our HERO: Hooray! Hip-hip! But I must skip. Where can I catch the nearest ship? Pardon my haste, but I must puff Back to New York and do my stuff. [The great LEVIATHAN appears to pick up TriBBs; three rousing cheers; MERCEDES G. and GERTRUDE E. and pretty-dainty Mary P. clasp hands and cry, “We're pulling for him. Won’t GROVER WHALEN just adore him!” (Down slowly let the CURTAIN drift and give the STAGE HANDs time to shift.) SCENE IV [The carnival is on, OUR HERO is ashore; the whistles blow, the banners flow, and guns boom four times four. They've taken him to City Hall to meet the SILK Hat Boys, and MAYOR WALKER’S made a speech you cannot hear for noise. Ah, HERO TIBBs, your chest is out for medals fine to see! May 25, 1929 Ah, HERO TIBBs, your hand is out to grab the City Key. And this of course is quite all right, but where among the throng is splendid GROVER WHALEN, whom our TIBBs has sought so long? THE Mayor: Your deed will echo down to fame, An inspiration—er—your name? Our HERO: My name is Tibbs, and what I’ve done Is not for fame or prizes won. *Tis this that brought me overseas: I want to meet G. Whaien, please. CHORUS OF ALDERMEN: Why didn’t you come a week ago, A week ago, we'd like to know, To get this demonstration? You're now too late to meet your date, For Grover, we regret to state, Is off on his vacation. {OuR HERO’s knees grow very weak; he moves his lips as if to speak. The next he knows he’s in a car, biting a Tammany ci- gar. A big brass band goes boom-boom- boom, while soldiers march and airplanes zoom; the HERO car has scarcely room for HERO TipBs and retinue. A BoRoUGH PRESIDENT or two are there ag WHALEN’S understudies, but HERO TIBBs looks quite askew at these glad-handed greeting bud- dies. [They march along for hours and hours. Maidens are strewing paper flowers, con- fetti falls from lofty towers, cameramen ex- ert their powers, but still OUR HERO sits and glowers. First BOROUGH PRESIDENT: These here parades are my delight, They tie the traffic up so tight. SECOND BOROUGH PRESIDENT: There’s nothing like parades, that’s true, To sort of cut the town in two. Ho-hum. | Just then OUR HERO sees a sight which gircs him heart disease. “‘ At last I’m here,’’ he mutters low, and leaps as if to quit the show. For there’s the very, very street where months ago he pledged to meet his cousin, REGINALD VAN Doo! TIBBs gazes, then falls back—wurr-o0—groaning like some- thing in the zoo. For look! The building which he sought has simply vanished into naught. Only a hole is in the earth where shovels dig for all they’re worth to build some future Tower of Babel which men may come to—if they’re able. [And that’s a fact—while east and west poor Ti1BBs has wandered in his quest, they've gone and torn the building down. Oh, what a town—oh, what a town! Our HERO: Move on, Parade! I understand How nuts are made. Strike up the band! THE BAND: Ta-ra, tan-ta-ra, With a strenuous huzzah! New York is full of witchery and dreamwork. Our labor’s so intense And our progress so immense That we cannot waste our energy on teamwork. Our intentions are sublime; Though we're never quite on time At a wedding or a dinner or a play, We pull a smile seraphic, kid, And blame it on the traffic, kid, For that’s the regular New York way. Tye-ump, dee-ay. CURTAIN THE SHADOW EMPEROR OF ALL THE RUSSIAS (Continued from Page 50) Lohengrin in the flesh. They reached Ru- mania in the beautiful month of May, and I saw them for the first time, as all true lov- ers and heroes of romance should be seen, n the moonlight, in the heart of the forest. The Crown Princess of Rumania had ar- ranged a picnic in the woods that sur- rounded Bukharest, and the guests went there, some on horseback and others by car. In a clearing in the woods, lighted by lan- terns and the rays of the moon coming through the leaves of the oaks, I found my- self in the presence of the Grand Duchess Cyril and her husband, “the marble man.” She bore in her eyes and in all her person the haughty charm of a beautiful woman who has suffered long. Close beside her sat the grand duke in his riding costume. He was as handsome as I had imagined him to . be when I contemplated his photographs, and I could well understand how he had inspired a great and faithful love. We sat down on the grass round a white tablecloth where dinner was set, and soon after, before any of the other guests thought of leaving, the grand duke and duchess asked for their car and disappeared. , To this first entertainment others suc- ceeded also given in their honor, most of them in the open air, owing to the preco- cious Warmth of the season. In 1907 oc- curred the jubilee of King Carol, celebrating the fortieth anniversary of his reign. An exhibition had been organized at Bukha- rest, and the fashion was for society people (Continued on Page 68)

Page 67

N the words of Dr. Leonard Wil- liams, famous British authority on glandular and intestinal disorders, Yeast is superior to every known cathartic. Dr. Williams’ conclu- sions, reprinted from articles in many leading newspapers in the United States, carry the weight of a lifetime of research. Why does this eminent physician recommend yeast so strongly? Be- cause, to quote his exact statement, yeast “rouses the system to full physiological efficiency.” Nobody escapes constipation com- pletely. Between “not being sick” and being really healthy and vigorous there is a vast amount of difference. For keener spirits, renewed vigor, a ciearer complexion, and protection against colds, headaches, sore throat THE SATURDAY EVENING POST DR. LEONARD WILLIAMS recommends yeast im place of the old-fashioned cathartic -eat Fleischmann’s Yeast regularly. In a recent survey in the United States half the physicians reporting said they prescribed fresh yeast. Fleischmann’s Yeast is fresh. Un like dried or killed yeast, it contains millions of living, active yeast plants. As they pass through your intestinal tract daily they combat harmful poisons and gently, naturally purify the whole system. Eat three cakes of Fleischmann’s efficiency. Yeast daily, one cake before each meal or between meals, plain or dis solved in water either cold or hot— not hotter than you can drink. For full benefit you must eat it regularly and over a sufficient period. Buy 2 or 3 days’ supply at a time. It will keep in a cool, dry place. At all grocers and many leading cafeterias, lunch counters and soda fountains Write for booklet on Yeast in the diet—free. Health Research Dept D-89, The Fleischmann Company, 701 Washington Street, New York. Famous Harley House, London, where Dr. Wiiitams has his office . . . One of the most prominent of British physicians, he is a Corresponding Member of the American Climatological Society and the Hydrological Society of Paris; he has served as physician at the Metropolitan Hospital, the Millar Hospital and the Princess Hospital for Soldiers; he is the author of Minor Maladies, The Science and Art of Living, etc. ‘AY Ld y , possesses a power of physical purification superior to all the purgatives. It rouses the system to full physiological “A large number of persons at or about middle age have forgotten what it is to feel perfectly well. They are not ill but they ail. ..+ For such I should like to prescribe less feasting and more yeasting.”’ — J. 90 per cent of your ills start here

Page 68

THE SATURDAY EVENING he Leader of POST All branches on the same tree; all growing out of the Chrysler root principle of standardized quality Progress in the Automobile Work HE swift and striking growth of Chrysler Motors is the inevitable result of the rising, spreading tide of Chrysler prestige and popularity. When Chrysler first appeared, five years ago, the whole industry needed a fresh viewpoint. Real progress in motor car designing and engineering had long been ham- pered and retarded by traditions—originality and initia- tive were at low ebb. With Chrysler came the great awakening. Before the industry realized just what washappening, the whole world was talking Chrysler—Chrysler design, Chrysler engi- neering, Chrysler performance. Something new, some- thing different, something defter had arrived. The new- comer had become the pacemaker. Time passed. Walter P. Chrysler and his associates strengthened their position of leadership. They rapidly built up vast manufacturing forces, perfected world-wide distribution channels and acquired additional well-estab- lished properties—all today united in Chrysler Motors. The realization of Chrysler’s pledge to provide a better public service is thus made possible. Centrally controlled and managed, the organization of Chrysler Motors is eminently fitted to carry out the most advanced measures of efficiency known in the industry. The units of Chrysler Motors form one giant force —each sharing the efficiencies and economies of group engineering, purchasing, manufacturing and financing. This unity of plan and purpose makes it practicable to extend the benefits of Standardized Quality throughout a group of products covering a// markets—with the result that each Chrysler Motors creation is emphatically the value leader in its price class. CLHURY SILER ,wPEaTTER PVBSt_re serv Pos Curyscer IMPERIAL CHRYSLER “75” Curys er “65” Dopce BrotHers SENIOR Dopce Broruers Six De Soro Six PLyMouTH Dopce Broruers Trucks, Buses and Moror Coaches Farco Trucks and CoMMERCIAL CARS Curys_terR Marine ENGINES All Products of Chrysler Motors This Chrysler Motors engineer is testing the tensile strength of a sample of rubber. Tires, rubber engine mountings and even rubber floor mats must all pass exhaustive tests for strength, resiliency, purity and long life before being accepted for any Chrysler Motors car May 25,1929

Page 69

PiymMoutu—product of Chrysler engineer- ie ing and craftsmanship—has been so named because its endurance and strength, ruggedness and freedom from limitations so accurately typify that stal- wart band of Pilgrims who were the first settlers of Ply- mouth and who were among the first American Coionists fF has THE . ‘te = Y= FULL | —— SATURDAY EVENING POST Tue Roapster (with rumble seat), $675 ” Quality characteristics 4s D~. improved Chrysler-built Plymouth is one of America’s lowest-priced motor cars—but in no sense does it look or behave like one. Everywhere, today, the Chrysler- built Plymouth is giving motorists the impression of a much higher-priced car. It is inevitable that Plymouth ownership should inspire real pride—for Plymouth’s dis- tinction is by no means confined merely to the smartness and richness of its design. The impression of a higher-priced car is heightened when you ride in a Plymouth— when you enjoy its fine comfort and experience its smooth, flexible performance. In today’s Plymouth the Chrysler engineers have increased the stroke and piston displace- CHRYSLER MOTORS ment of its superb “Silver-Dome” type engine; have given it a much heavier crankshaft; have enlarged the main bearings and connecting rods; have designed a new system of full-pressure lubrication—and in many other ways have made a great power- plant greater than ever. All this means that Plymouth is more than ever characteristic of higher-priced cars in the way it attains and maintains speed—in its pick- up—in its ability on hills—in its smooth, smooth, smoothness. In addition to its eager responsiveness to the throttle, Plymouth handles with the lightest touch on the wheel—and has the safe, positive, easy control of Chrysler weatherproof internal- expanding four-wheel hydraulic brakes. PRODUCT os 4 far higher price *655 and upwards f. 0. b. factory Itsfud/-size—the length of its chassis and springs —the width and depth of its seats—its unusual interior roominess— make Plymouth an amaz- ingly comfortable car. Also, Plymouth is un- questionably the leader of its class in all phases of economy, including the cost of up keep. Thus, to the pride of owning a Plymouth, is coupled a thrifty satisfaction in having a car that costs remark: ibly little to run. Coupe, $055; Roadster (with rumble seat), $675; 2-Door Sedan, $675; Touring, $605 ; De Luxe C upe (withrumbl seat), } J Door: Sedan, $695 All pri b. factory. Plymouth dealers ¢ Pie: convenience of time pay mer PLYMOUTH AMERICA’S LOWEST-PRICED FULL-SIZE CAR

Page 70

USIC wherever YOu 20 THIS AMAZING PORTABLE VICTROLA ONLY se 4 Here is a great boon to music lovers ...a marvelous portable Victrola that you can comfortably take along to camp, picnic or bungalow. Posses- ses tone quality and volume such as you can get from no other portable. Equipped with Orthophonic-type sound box. Handy as a small over- night bag .. . indestructible . . . beau- tiful enough for the most smartly appointed small Rec- ords stop automat- apartment. ically after playing — special winding feature makes it easy to wind any- where. Carries 10 Victor records. The finest portable Victrola ever built and one of the greatest of Victor values . . . listing for only $35. . Portable ictrola VICTROLA NO. 2-55 LIST PRICE $35. THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 64) to dine there every evening, in illuminated and beflagged pavilions, to the sound of Tzigane violins. During a whole week we dined there, night after night, with the royal family and their guests, the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Russia. We used to wander about the exhibition until late in the evening, visiting the dif- ferent attractions and even taking part in them. The crown princess had a preference for one in particular, and we followed her lead. The whole party used to share the delights of a marvelous water chute—at that | time a new sensation. Every time I em- barked, headed for a comic-opera catas- trophe, my imagination carried me back to that terrible night at Port Arthur, lived through by one of our companions, when the Petropaviovsk had sunk. Being in a boat, I pictured to myself that other boat shaken by a furious sea, and the Grand Duke Cyril fighting for his life in the midst of a real catastrophe. Without ever daring | to speak to him on the subject of this trag- edy, in which so much of the prestige of the Russian Empire had disappeared, I could not help thinking of it each time I sailed with him on the water chute, and I kept | wondering if the present circumstances ever | brought the event back to his remembrance. Was the shipwreck still fresh in his mind? | A few days later I received an answer to my unspoken question. A Rocky Road for Royalty As a rule, “the marble man” was rather taciturn. From him all one got was cold politeness, and nothing more. He seemed to take part in our somewhat foolish amuse- ments more from duty than from pleas- ure. Several times I had ncticed the identical words he used after an evening spent in society, always spoken with the same calm indifference. ‘Charming féte,”’ he used to say, with a bow and a haughty smile. His one care seemed to be his wife, and the crown princess drew my attention to the fact that they were always the first to leave, as if in haste to find themselves alone again. This pleased me, as it seemed the proper frame of mind for a modern Tristan and Isolde. It so happened, when the court left for Sinaia, the crown princess, who wished to show the country to her sister and brother- in-law, asked my husband and myself totake her and them in our car and make the jour- ney by road. We were to stop for luncheon under some very celebrated old walnut trees, at a pretty village on the way called Bréaza, which overlooks the valley of the Prahova. Since then I have never passed that place without remembering all that was said under the shade of those old trees. What a tragic meaning coming events were to give to the words then uttered by the Grand Duke Cyril and his wife! The grand duchess took her place in the front of the car near my busband, who was driving. She was expecting a child and feared the shaking of the car caused by the rough roads. The Grand Duke Cyril sat between the crown princess and myself in the back of the car, and, to my astonish- ment, when we were out of the town he pulled out of his coat pocket a blue chiffon veil such as women used to wear, and covered his face with it. I must confess that this action on the part of a man who had been an officer surprised me consider- ably. The grand duke then explaired that the skin of his face had been injured in the ex- plosion of the Petropavlovsk to such an extent that he had to take precautions to protect it, as ever since it had had a ten- dency to become painfully inflamed. See- | ing the interest I showed in the great danger he had been through, he pulled out his watch and showed it to me. It had | fallen into the sea with him when the ship blew up, and still bore the visible traces of sea water on its face under the glass, which had not been broken. The most extraordi- | nary thing was that the watch did not stop | when it fell into the sea with its owner. The EVENING POST grand duke kept it like a mascot, and treasured the evidences of the accident on its enameled face. I was very much moved by his words. They seemed to have broken the ice be- tween us, and I thought of them all the way in the car. When we arrived at Bréaza for luncheon we found the table set on the grass under the century-old walnut trees. We were only five at the rustic meal. The beautiful weather, the solitude, the sim- plicity, invited confidences. The grand duke and grand duchess spoke of their difficulties with their cousin the czar. His Most Im- perial Majesty, after two years’ reflection, still refused his pardon, they said. They would have to return to Paris and continue life in their little flat in the Avenue Henri- Martin. Except for their holidays, which they spent regularly at Tegernsee with the Duchess of Coburg, there was no place on earth for them to go to. Residence in Russia was still forbidden to them. They re- mained outcasts, the pretext being that they had married without the permission of the emperor. All attempts at reconciliation had failed up to now. The combined ef- forts of “Auntie Michen,” the mother of Grand Duke Cyril, and of the Duchess of Coburg, both aunts of Nicholas II, could not prevail against the stern secret hostility of the empress, once Victoria Melita’s sister-in-law. The private fortune of the grand duke was still confiscated, he was still deprived of his commands in the army and favy. As for Victoria Feodorovna, she had been very poor since her divorce. She and her hus- band had calculated the extent of their income; they had only twenty thousand frances a year to live on; which, for people of their standing, meant compiete poverty. Grand Duke Cyril had been brought up exclusively for an officer’s career; he had no other profession. And then a child was expected, and if this child should be a son he would be very near the throne. They continued their plaints, which seemed to me to be well founded. Indeed, the injustice was great, when one considered the fact that other grand dukes had mar- ried without the consent of the emperor: Michael, who spent the winter in Cannes and the summer near London with his mor- ganatic wife, the Countess Torby; Paul, who lived at Neuilly with the Countess of Hohenfelsen, a divoreée and a commoner. The Vengeance of the Empress These two grand dukes had been exiled from Russia, it is true, but they still pos- sessed their appanages and were able to enjoy their immense wealth in peace and contentment. In the case of Cyril alone there had been confiscation and persecu- tion. It was inexplicable in view of the fact that the woman he had married was a princess of the blood royal, a cousin of the czar on both her mother’s and her father’s side, the granddaughter of a former emperor of Russia, and granddaughter of the late Queen Victoria. And it was she, his near relative, on whom Nicholas II had chosen to wreak his wrath. It was she whom he had selected for the most severe punishment, and whom he had treated worse than he had the commoners married to the other grand dukes—the Torby and the Hohenfelsen. The czar, the supreme head of the Ortho- dox Church, could have raised the inter- diction which forbade marriage between first cousins. And it was in the name of this obsolete religious law tnat Nicholas II uttered the anathema which condemned them to exile, their marriage to nullity, ‘and almost reduced them to want. Under this pretense of strict adherence to a re- ligious tenet a woman’s vengeance was concealed! The emperor’s weakness of char- acter was well known; he had acted under the fatal influence of the empress, who felt very bitterly toward the divorced wife of her brother. But love triumphed. It replaced every- thing else with them. They had chosen the May 25,1929 better part and it could not be taken from them. The conversation under the old walnut trees at Bréaza made a profound impression on me and served later to elucidate at least one point in the Russian Revolution which otherwise would have remained obscure to me. The day after their arrival at Sinaia the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess Cyril came to spend the day with us at our coun- try place at Posada. We played tennis all day. Then they retired to dress for dinner in the rooms I had had prepared for them. An old housekeeper, who had been in the family for many years, waited on them, and told me later how amazed she had been by the wonderful things in the Grand Duke’s dressing case; she had never seen such lux- ury, such fine linen, such beautiful gold bottles, such a variety of gold boxes, in any man’s dressing case. She had also noticed the grand duke’s delicate white hands. If poverty and privations were to come, they had not yet arrived. I was to remember very vividly these details not so long after, when I heard how the grand duke lived during the Russian Revolution. The Return to Russia When we left Sinaia we drove our Tristan and Isolde to the frontier of Transylvania, where they were to take the train for Paris. A wonderful moon made of the valley of the Temes the dreamed-of setting for our fare- well to the romantic pair. I first saw them in the moonlight of a May night, when the nightingales sang in the deep forest; I took leave of them on a midsummer night, in other forests, and again in the moonlight. I had brought flowers for them. The grand duke detached a leaf of verbena from his wife’s bouquet; he liked its fragrance. He removed his gloves in order to crush the perfume from the leaf, and in the rays of the moon his pale hand shone like alabaster. Then the train left the station, carrying to- ward their destiny this man and woman— social reprobates, but still to be envied for their human happiness. After this short period of intimacy I saw no more of the Grand Duke and Duchess Cyril, except now and then during the few years previous to the Great War. I saw them once in Paris in their little flat in the Avenue Henri-Martin, after the birth of their second daughter, Princess Kyra; then another time in Munich, when they were coming from Tegernsee. Materially their situation had not changed. It was only on the eve of the Great War that the Emperor Nicholas II yielded to the Grand Duchess Vladimir’s solicitations. We heard that her son Cyril had at last re- ceived permission to return to Russia and to take with him his wife and children. The time for a complete and hearty reconcilia- tion seemed to have passed. Then the war broke out, and for two years I heard noth- ing of them. The last time I saw the Grand Duchess Cyril, previous to the downfall of the Russian Empire, was at Tsarskoe Selo, at the end of September, 1916, only five months before the revolution. I was com- ing from England and passing through Pet- rograd on my way to take charge of my hospital in Rumania. The grand duchess asked me to her mother-in-law’s palace. She was then anxious about her sister, Queen Marie. The news from the Ruma- nian front was’ bad at that time for those who knew. The help of the Russian army was expected, but the question was: Could and would Russia seriously help Rumania? I found the grand duchess very much con- cerned and looking tired and sad. She did not conceal her anxiety. Things were going badly for Rumania and also for Russia, it was whispered. The first rumblings of the revolution could be heard. The unpopular- ity of the empress was appalling and in- creasing daily. This I had also heard in Petrograd, in the embassies and also in the fashionable restaurants during the four days I was there. The grand duchess told me that she would do her utmost to go and (Continued on Page 70) ~ j ee SG EE oy ah _ = ew Cae oe ane aa me eee

Page 71

ee EE a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 69 THE WAY OF EAGLES... WHEN it’s rough aloft or the report says dirt above the Alleghenies . . . or ice and fog over the Hump . . . then only master pilots should take to the skyways! For these men who wing their way smoothly and safely across the illimitable vault of the heavens are not only pilots of extraordinary skill, but men of clear-eyed judgment and calm responsibility. In the sudden surge of enthusiasm that is lifting everyone into the air, it’s well to realize there is an ideal that must be recog- nized by all who hope to follow the example of those who command the highways of the sky. The master pilots . . . like the great sea captains ... are truly a class apart.... As factors of safety are multiplied in the design and construction of airplanes and engines, dependence on pilots will continue to lessen... . We know of runaway planes that have leaped into the air without human gui- dance at all and landed without cracking up! We know of war planes that made gentle landings, with dead sticks, and dead masters! We have actually flown in great tri-motored planes that held their course in fair weather without a man near the controls. Neverthe- less, in the hands of an amateur or an incom- petent, the plane is not a safe vehicle for careless flying. In the early half of 1928, when the first burst of popular enthusiasm was being put into practical application there was a sharp increase in air accidents . . . collisions, stalls, spins, slips, engine failures, overloading . . . due largely to the carelessness of inexperi- enced or incompetent amateurs, or to students who were not temperamentally or physically fit to fly planes. Contrasting with over-eager amateurs, we have the experience of master pilots to prove the safety of sane flight. Collins, for instance, who has flown the Air Mail for well over half a million miles in seven and a half years! Dyer, of the Navy, who spent 1215 hours in the air in 1928 without an accident of any sort... close to two unbroken months of nights and days aloft in wind and storm and clear without accident! Mamer, former Army pilot, who carried 12,000 passengers in 4000 hours of flight, over earthquake ravaged re- gions, over forest fires, through blizzards!... ‘And Ford pilots, flving from Detroit to Cleveland, Chicago and Buffalo, who have flown over a million miles in a total of 518 days and nights of unbroken flight, with better than railroad efficiency and safety. Years ago, Mile. Moisant flew a plane before she could drive an automobile. Last year a girl of thirteen took a long cross country solo flight to visit her grand- mother. Flight may be as easy as that. But responsible flight must be protected by every safeguard, if aviation is to progress on sound principles. The best pilots in America today are those who have completed the courses given by-the Army and Navy flying schools. These courses require 300 hours of every sort of flying, following thorough ground courses, and rig- orous physical examinations. Ford requires its pilots to have hundreds of hours solo experience, with a brilliant indi- vidual record proving mastery of the air! While Ford pilots are not in command cf all the Ford tri-motored all-metal planes that are flying in commercial service outside of Ford Stout operations, the magnificent record of all proves the importance to commerce and industry of properly designed planes, flown by master pilots. FORD MOTOR COMPANY

Page 72

70 THE SATURDAY Quick pick-up for fast feet The swift-footed player has more chance of winning. That's why so any champion athletes, and emi- Keds have real speed and Keds’ tough nent coaches, endorse Keds fety-soles are specially designed to grip the smoothest surfaces Ke offer the most complete fo4 ls for every indoor port { outdoor activity. You'll Ked the be t shoe stores her town, and there's reatest variety from which ake your selection. All prices, too, fron $1.00, $1 Be. $1 a p to $4.00 Remember Keds are more than ordinary eakers.’’ Keds are made by che gest specialist in the can- vas rubber-soled footwear business Keds are fine rubber-soled, canvas- pped There's nothing quite ke tl tor fast re footwork i ‘ 4 A ld ” [ Z Y dii enuine Keds That's the only way to be sure of Look for the name getting Ked: Write for our new free booklet containing all kinds of information on games, sports, camping, vacation suggestions and dozens of other interesting subjects. Dept. KS-59, 1790 Broadway, New York City. Keds REG.U.S. PAT. OFF fy \ United States @® Rubber Company =r At $19 $125 $15° $175 and up to $4°°, The more you pay, the more you get—but full value whatever you spend. see the Duchess of Coburg. al ¢ ap reinforcement that at point of harde Keds “Gladiator” rdy shoe for all-round use Patented “Feltex”’ insole keeps the foot cool nd nfortable. Reinforced toc protection at point of hardest servi gives extra Specia i-skid sole EVENING POST Continued from Page 68) see her sister, Queen Marie, for whom she gave me a letter. Her love for her sister was so strong that she would even face the difficulties and dangers of the long journey. I was to say she would go to Rumania to bring her sister moral comfort, in spite of her health —she was then expecting a third child. I did not see Grand Duke Cyril; he was somewhere on the front commanding his regiment of marines. The year 1917 brought with it several crushing disasters. The greater part of Ru- mania, including the capital, had fallen into the hands of the enemy. In March, 1917, when the Russian Empire collapsed, I was interned by the Germans. The following May I was released, and I left for Switzer- land with the French nuns who had been working with mein my hospital. We arrived in Switzerland, a neutral country, in the month of June. There we heard more or less trustworthy reports of events in Russia. At the end of the month of August, I re- ceived a long-delayed letter from Queen Marie, containing another letter which I was to deliver to her mother, the Duch- ess of Coburg, then living in Zurich with her youngest daughter, the Infanta of Spain. It was from this Romanoff that I first heard what had happened to the Grand Duke and Duchess Cyril during the awful tempest which had overthrown the throne of the Romanoffs. She said they had had some hopes after the emperor’s abdication; they thought the temporary government would be able to prevent Russia from sink- ing into the abyss of revolution. Then things had rapidly gone from bad to worse; the massacres had begun. The Grand Duke Paul and his son had been slain. The other grand dukes had had to flee for their lives. Cyril and his wife and children were now refugees in Finland, and it was there, in the little town of Borgo, on August 17, 1917, that their son was born. The duchess shook her wise old head. Who could tell what Providence meant by it all? Another letter from Queen Marie reached me at the beginning of the year 1918, and was the cause of my returning to Zurich to She then gave me, in order that I could write to the queen, the latest news she had received from Fin- land. It was indeed terrible news. It had been impossible to send money there, and Grand Duke Cyril and his wife and children were living in the most abject poverty. They were lodged with their two daughters and infant son in a little wooden house, without comfort of any kind, without neigh- bors, without help, expecting from day to day to receive the dreaded visit of the Red Guards, who frequently crossed the open frontier from the other side of a frozen lake. From their windows poor Russian fugitives could be seen on the ice of the lake, fleeing from Russia. As they passed, the Red Guards used to shoot at them and many fell just like hares in the snow. Factions Among the Royalists There was no wood to be found, and the grand duke and grand duchess used to heat themselves by burning broken doors and window frames snatched from abandoned houses. Every day Cyril sawed wood and transported it with his own hands so that his family should not die of cold. When I heard these details I remembered the white hands noticed by our old housekeeper those hands of a man who had never done any manual labor. When I went to Paris and then to London in the month of May, 1919, these towns were full of aristocratic Russian refugees. There was an emigration in Europe, as there had been a century before, but there was a noticeable difference between the French emigration and the Russian. The French emigration had had one pretendant, the Russian emigration had several. I saw many Russians belonging to the ancien régime, in both London and Paris. When I questioned them as to the future of their cause, I received the most contradic- tory replies. Some upheld as heir to the May 25,1929 throne of Russia the Grand Duke Nicholas, the former generalissimo of the Russian armies during the Great War. He was a man of age and experience, who had en- joyed for a long time the confidence of the army. Others of the refugees upheld the rights of the young Grand Duke Dmitri, seeing in him the strange merit of having taken part in the assassination of Rasputin, which in their eyes secured for him the gratitude of Russia. Other Russians de- clared to me that the only legitimate heir, according to the existing statutes of the imperial family, was Grand Duke Cyril. As for the empress dowager, she could not believe that her son Nicholas II was dead; so for her there was no dynastic question Around the names of the three grand dukes I have mentioned discussion was rife in the émigrés’ camp, and each party argued in the Russian fashion, which means endlessly, like people who have the boundless steppes in their mind’s eye. The Logical Pretendant The opponents of Grand Duke Cyril seemed many, and they argued from dif- ferent points of view. Some reproached him for having joined the revolution in its early stages. They accused him of having flown the red flag on his palace in Petro- grad, and of going to the Duma at the head of his regiment of marines, wearing red cockades. In time of revolution red has been the color princes and even monarchs have often had to wear, since the time of Louis XVI and his little son the Dauphin, who had to appear in public wearing the red cap. Besides, the Rumanian Minister, Mr. Diamandi, who had been a witness of thos stormy days in Petrograd, told me that when the emperor abdicated he had sullenly advised all the members of his family to give their adherence to the temporary gov- ernment. In going to the Duma with h regiment, the Grand Duke Cyril had not overstepped the bounds of his sovereign’s orders; but whoever tries to give the devi! his due in time of revolution is always inthe wrong. And wearing the red cockade has never prevented a king’s head from falling. Like many other aristocrats befor« him, Cyril had tried to ride the storm, and he had failed. Nevertheless, it seemed that Providence did not wish him to perish, either, in the hugs shipwreck of the Russian empire. He had reached Finland with his wife and children Later he settled in France, and now he lives at St. Briac, on the shores of Brittany, where Tristan and Isolde of the landed long ago. Years have passed, during which destiny undertook to simplify the political situa- tion of the Romanoffs. Death has reduced the number of the pretendants to the throne of Russia, which was virtually occupied by Lenin, a more absolute monarch than any czar since the days of Ivan the Terrible. Old Grand Duke Nicholas, the generali simo, died in the south of France a few months ago. As for Grand Duke Dmitri, he married morganatically a Protestant wife. Nothing nowadays seems less proba- ble than a restoration in Russia, but I have noticed—and whoever studies history has ’—that history is lege nd not noticed it before me? only the report of events that have sur- prised contemporaries so much that they had to write them down just because they seemed so astounding. Ten years before the war, when Lenin, an exile, used to live in poverty-stricken lodgings in Paris or Geneva, who would have imagined him an autocrat in the Kremlin, the absolute mas- ter of Russia, and, after his death, his body becoming an object of idolatry? To an impartial observer it is not more im- possible to imagine Cyril at the Kremlin in the future than it would have been in 1909 to imagine Lenin buried in the Kremlir Nothing is impossible; anything can hap- pen. I neither foresee, nor do I prophesy. I have simply taken pleasure in drawing th« silhouette of the man whose legitimat: claims allow me to name him “‘ The Shadow Emperor of all the Russias.”’ — eect

Page 73

At the headquarters warehouse, drawing a truckload of rations for the company, Shorty opened up the play with a verbal rawhiding which sounded realistic enough to make Sergeant Hoarder’s crew glad of the fact that they were not numbered among Shorty’s helpers. ‘“‘Lissen to that sawed-off son of a gun hand it out!"’ one of the home guard com- mented. ‘“‘I don’t see why them birds stand for it. He's a bad actor.” The bad actor dished out another copious consignment of sulphuric language, and then, turning away from Squad 1, his man- ner changed instantly to a surprising affa- bility which won over the friendship of the commissz ry crew before they knew it ‘“*Youse guys around the warehouse here must be worked to death. All these gro- ceries and everything piled up. You got the hardest job in the Army, it looks like to me. How about a little shot of vang and a sand- wich? They got the best vang in the world over in that farmhouse across the stone wall. I made a killin’ at blackjack last night and I crave to celebrate.” “T’ll go with you, but I don’t drink no vang. Coonyak is my dish in this rainy weather.” “Come along and swim your head off in the coonyak ocean if you crave to. I'll pay all the bills. Bring the rest of your gang and we'll gulp a few shots while these lead- hoofed sons of sailors out of Squad 1 in my outfit break their backs. That’s all they're fit fer. C’mon, youse headquarters guys, let’s go!”’ Led by their host, the commissary crew retreated in a body and marched at a trot for the cheer which awaited them in the farmhouse over beyond the stone wall The party lasted for an hour; and then, rallying the casualties, Shorty returned to the warehouse with the able-bodied frag- ments of-the headquarters gang. He found the five-ton truck loaded high with groceries and grouchy members of Squad 1. “All set?” he inquired. He flashed a significant frown of interrogation toward the surly crew. One of them growled a reply, winking an eloquent appendix to his words. Unobserved, Shorty heaved a sigh of triumph which left him with no more strength than he needed to clamber up to his seat with the driver of the truck When they were out in the clear, “‘How about it? Tell me quick,” Shorty pleaded. ‘I been dyin’ anxious fer the last half hour.” “Kid, we done it! Hand him a sample, somebody.” A sack of the makings dangled in front of Shorty’s nose. “‘That looks good to me.”” He grabbed for the tobacco. ‘‘How much did you get?” ** All of it. They was seven boxes for the regiment. Found it buried under ten tons of goldfish. Had to move all the groceries in the world before we run onto it. That louse of a Hoarder sure had it hid.” “They was a box fer each of the six com- panies and one fer headquarters company. We got all seven boxes three hunderd and fifty pounds of makin’s.” “Lord, baby, talk about a gold mine! I wouldn't trade it for that much diamonds!” Shorty inflated himself with one exultant inhalation of tobacco smoke his gratification. ‘‘Lord, boy, that’s the old kick! Never mind the guard body roll me about six of these pills while I set fire to ‘em all at once Shoot me now! Seven boxes! Us guys is kings of the world!” That night, when a secret distribution of the prize had been made, each man in the company enjoyed possession of a treasure which at the moment seemed to be worth more than its weight in gold. Long after taps had blown, the company huts were blue with tobacco smoke and it was well after midnight before the nicotine orgy abated. He groaned some- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE RODE BIRD Continued from Page 54 During the day, while the tobacco raid was being accomplished, Slim West, idle without his crew, sought the sanctuary of the little shack which housed the camp te! phone switchboard. Here, he decided, he would spend the day at ease, but his plans were interrupted before the first hour of his holiday had been enjoyed. A piece of news came in, described by the linguist seated in front of the switchboard as red-hot hop Slim traded places with the operator and put on the head set in time to grab an earful of information which busted his hol- iday wide open. The regimental adjutant was giving a few words to a clerk in the colonel’s office at base headquarters ‘*T will read you the list of names of men recommended for promotion,” the adju- tant said. ‘‘ Are you ready Enlisted personnel to be commissioned as second lieutenants There followed eleven names, and Regimental Supply Sergeant Hoarder’s name was well toward the top of the list. ‘‘When the list is completed hand it to the colonel for signature,”’ the regi- mental adjutant ordered. ‘‘ Forward it to G. H. Q. tomorrow by courier.” This was enough. Slim had heard plenty. He tore the head set from his ears and handed it back to the operator. “I'll be drifting along, kid. I got business in town If you want me for any trouble-shootin’, Ill be around the switchboard at regi- mental headquarters downtown I got some work to do on that board.’ At regimental headquarters, Slim an nounced himself here and there among the enlisted personnel with what seemed to be superfluous publicity. He tested each ofa dozen telephones in as many office rooms and unusua! affability marked his manner At lunch time, except for an important- looking civilian clerk, the colone|'s private office was deserted. Slim invaded this sanctum with an announcement of im- portant business: “Just cutting the board in on a Paris wire. Tell the colonel he can get G. H. Q on a straight wire without bothering with the frog Central from now on.” The civilian clerk smiled. ‘‘You mean these telephones are connected direct with G. H. Q.?” “That's what I meen. Tell your troubles to Central in the other office and he can give you a direct circuit.” Following this, in a room adjoining the colonel's office, the prowler came upon the object of his scouting expedition. Seated at a typewriter, pounding out a bale of military correspondence, sat a life-saver in the person of Surly Jim Franklin, whose stenographic abilities had shifted him from a pick-and-shovel job in Slim's outfit to cushions near the brass necks’ throne ‘Hello, Surly,” Slim growled in greeting “How they stackin’, boy?” “‘Bokoo work. Outside of that, every- thing soft.” “They made you a jigadier brindle yet?” “They aim to next week.”’ ‘‘What’s the dope about all the promo- tions I hear?” “There's the list.”’ sheet of paper tomorrow.” The search was ended. Slim glanced at the document. Fourth on the list, he read tegimental Supply Sergeant Hoarder’s name He turned to the old-timer seated at the typewriter **Lissen, Surly, you remember the time me and Blackie hauled you outta that yattle at Fresno with the native sons?” **T’ll tell the cocke yed world! soy, that was grief! What of it?” ““You remember the time you broke your eg in Seattle and me and Jos all winter?”’ “Naw, I'd forgot that All I did was starve three months before I run onto you virds. A guy forgets those things easy What of it? You need francs?’

Surly handed Slim a ‘Eleven of ‘em goin’ up arried you ‘] got more francs than a paymaster What I need is this ” Slim pointed to Sergeant Hoarder’s name on the type written sheet he held in his hand *What I need is for you to rub out that Hoarder 1ame. If you'd write this promotion list over again and leave that louse’s name out, it'd be known as a clerk-ial error fifty years from now when they found it out, wouldn't it?” Surly Franklin nodded a quick compre hension of the layout. “‘I get you hell out of here whilst I perpetrate this crime without no witnesses. On your way, big boy! Tell the gang I miss ‘em “Only a bird in a gilded cage. C'mon back to the old homestead Sunday and we puts on a riot for you. Switch the cut on that Hoarder promotion and you and me is square fer life.” “‘All set fer the big crime. Git out o here!”’ With his life work accomplished, Slim West spent the afternoon indulging in a one-man celebration which lasted until the lights of the city had begun to shine He returned to camp and forthwith sought Shorty, the cook “‘Luck? You must of hit a pay streak,” he said. “I see everybody smokin’ them selves black in the face." “T'll tell the cockeyed world we hit a pay streak!" Shorty announced. “‘Seven We copped the = cases of cigarette tobacco! whole works.”’ “Boy, that’s we mine?” “‘Parked away under the blankets in my bunk.” When Slim West had garnered his per sonal share of the tobacco prize, he gave Shorty a quick verbal testimonia! of | admiration “Kid, you sure done noble. You shot The next twenty seconds were devoted to rolling a fat cigarette. When the cigarette had been lighted, Slim continued his prow! until he discovered a crap game whose participants included several members of Squad 1. Slim summoned these members of his squad one by one as they went broke “Rally round the hut some language fidential, was largely a tentative plan for the continuation of the campaign against Sergeant Hoarder. ‘‘I got him spiked and hog-tied fer the time bein’, but we got t work steady to make it stick. From now on start in and gamble him broke, git him } lfare' Where you got the biggest seven ever throwed I'm puttin’ out TI t language . hig! ly con- ) soused as often as possible, and one way and another sink his boat. When he was nothin’ but a buck private, he was a good guy, but he’s got terrible with the trin min's he wears-— ruined by rar

got to do is make him a good guy agar | aim to ride him till Round him up tomorrow and stake him to a fancy lunch with bokoo likker. That's the first play. Deliver him back to headg plenty pickled so colons an view the re mains. Ride him tame! The riding process progressed on sched

he gits g od uarters ule, but something seemed to keep Sergeant Hoarder guy was shot with luck Some folks are

clear of the shoals of disaster. The born that way. The wrecking crew used plenty of ammunition, but they seemed t be shooting blanks “What you suppose happened now! | heard the colons all that Hoarder by his first name “Too bad the colonel int git wino’s number “Trouble with that souse, he carr likker too good. We load him withan francs’ worth of oonyak at inct carries it like I'd handle a scu You got to hand it to the guy The faint tribute aroused some fres! gust in Slim West I'll hand it to him! | aim to ride that bird. I'll hand him t spurs when I git him hitched uJ Slin promised An orderly from the ‘ art nterrupted the yur " Any vouse | is seen Ser ey 1 I nel wants him We nt seen hir Wed t wanna see hin i Kesrr “ ul

Plenty s« er n f I neve set magain. Ur ir wa ood! Sergeant Hoard ed up at anott point, reported to the ne This seems to be an opportune time issue that garette tobacco which wa given to the regiment by the New Yorh people the colone! informed his attentive supply sergeant some of the company ymmanders told me at mess that the regi ment is running short of tobacco. Attend to this, Sergeant Hoarder On the following night, long after supper and seconds were in the ear even men out ol Squad l at a rough pine table, working by the aid of lantern light at a hateful and unaccustomed task ‘Us guys is telephone men,”” a member _— ained to a supply clerk “This of Squad 1 com} who was directing their industry bookkeepin is all new stuff to us ‘That ain't bookkeepin’ lust keep checkin’. How far you got down that list of them canned goods “We ain't even started.’ ‘Well, you better § start Hoarder wants all the commissary supplies checked up before midnight tonight, and what he wants he git There's some stuff Sergeant

Hit the bail, rough guys! Can the guff! You're in the Army now While the seven men of Squad 1 labored missin’ overtime on a chech the ymmissary supplies, their leader, Cawpril Slim West was attending a two-ma! gnation meet ing, exchanging grief of the company with the top sergeant k “Go ahead and ride Hoarder about it you crave to,” the top advised the bellig erent Cawpril West le's sued hall a ton of tobacco to every other company but this one Ten rifle cases ful! of makin's fer each company All he did when I roared about nothin’ bein’ issued for this outfit was to grin. He had me buffaloed. Prow) over and ask him about it if you got nerve enough. Me, I lets him alons the top confessed ‘That bird has got my goat ‘I've got nerve enoug! I 1 that bird the third degree on tl holdout tobacco with a roar that Dust his ear drums Slim West started on the warpath ar ked it fine Uld pers al ores betweer himself and Sergeant Hoarder were sid sues now that Hoarder had perpetrated a rime on the entire con i I'll learn ‘im t e half a ton of t acco to ever othe par +} y ment and leave u t l ethatt me r The ‘ ade I nt ri it the regiment } te ‘ hee. Sli leaped straignt at the 4 ity t) ly I et ’ ~ ye H é ere tw ye ew mig } ‘ Sery t H ‘ . ; | ‘ } t r y rie } ‘ ‘ ' t At t t { ‘ I ‘ Here ‘ i t ist ‘ ‘ t tt ‘ Sergeant H ‘ ne ‘ I Kage } ! wne | wral y the tring Continued on Page 76

Page 74

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 For the Service of Every MAN ””’ every WOMAN 77 every Make, Size, Weight of CAR’’’every Driv- ing NEED or DEMAND” every ROAD Condition *77 every MOTORING MIND uu. &§. ROYALS LiKE every other real advance step, the New U. S. ROYAL is simple in prin- ciple, logical in method, far-reaching in results. THE PRINCITPLE-—Take the Cars of today and build a Tire expressly to match. Think only of Today and the future. Build the Tire of Today for the Car of Today. THE MEETHOD— Build of Web Cord for strength. Make the tread-blocks clean-cut, with deep grooves, for traction. Bring the whole width of the tread into contact with the road, for maximum braking. Ride the car well up on the tread for easy steering. Give plenty of depth to the tread, for thousands of extra miles of anti-skid service life. Buttress well at the sides for rugged stamina. Make the most beautiful tire in America. THE RESULT —HhHere is the Tire of Today, the logical rolling foundation for every Car of Today—demanded by the Roads of Today, the Traffic Con- ditions and Driving Habits of Today—and by the Motoring Mind of Today. - THE MOTORING MIN B— Make no mistake about it. The mind of the Motorist today runs in its own individual channels. Nothing like it has been known in the world before. Taking its tone from the Younger Genera- tion, it demands and gets Cars of a kind which, also, have never been known before. And here, in the New U. S. ROYAL, are the Tires of the kind that have never been known before—the Tire of Today for the Car of Today. UNITED STATES

Page 75

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE TIRE OF TODAY FOR THE CAR OF TODAY

Fs ithe, <n RUBBER COMPANY ©

Page 76

Centinued from Page 73) he smaller packages and revealed a set of ur ornaments and two gold bars. Lend me the makin’s, will you, Slim?” Sergeant Hoarder asked evenly, replying Slim West. ‘I left mine in the discarded The hypnotized belligerent handed over he makings along with a growl, taking me out to observe in a dazed way a band braid on the sleevés of his adversary’s form. “‘Here, smoke your head off. What about the tobacco fer our outfit?” Lissen, wild man, there will be no to- » issued for your outfit.” Some inflex- juality in Hoarder’s measured speech reminded Slim of an incident in his military past when he had craved six pairs of socks. THE SATURDAY “Your gang got a fair break. Shorty copped seven cases of tobacco when every- body else in the regiment was starvin’ to death for it. Next time you pull a raid, burn the evidence. Those empty tobacco cases stood out on Shorty'’s woodpile bigger than the Statue of Liberty. As far as the tobacco goes, you’re done. Over and above that, I'm obliged to you for hookin’ up base headquarters on a Paris wire. The colonel recommended me for a commission by wire after my name was accidentally left off the promotion list. I’m much obliged for the service.” “Keep the change, you dog-robber! You ain’t a loot yet without them brassworks on you! You better pin ‘em on pronto, be- cause I’m goin’ to orate a few language to GETTIN Selling Secrets F THERE is anything I have learned in nearly twenty years of selling and teach- ing other men to sell, it is that there has been a great deal too much of theorizing and yet, with all our theorizing, there is a tremendous lot about selling that we do not know. From my earliest days I possessed a yen to become a salesman. Shining shoes in the old hotel in my home town, I had oppor- tunity to see the romantic masters of that ancient craft in their hours of relaxation. For years I watched them and longed for the day when I, too, could travel in expen- sive plush-upholstered day coaches, sit at ease in the armchairs of magnificent dollar- a-day hoteis, kid and be kidded by breath- essly beautiful blond waitresses — the whole to be graciously financed by soreone else through the medium of frequent expense checks. When a little older, serving my apprenticeship as a salesman by trying to sell sets of books to reluctant housewives, I made my first exploration into the realm of sales theory. This was in the form of a course in salesmanship, advertised as revo- utionary and guaranteed to make big money for anyone at the mere expenditure f the effort necessary to clip the attached oupon. I labored over this set of assign- ments very assiduously and enriched my vocabulary with such terms as “pre- “attention,” “‘interest,” “‘de- sire,"’ and “‘action.”” Not much else remains with me today. A little later I purchased a book on the science of selling and spent many hours poring over it. I learned from this book that there was such a thing as an “analytical survey,’”’ that “states of consciousness"” had something to do with selling and that “applied psychology,” re- enforced with enthusiasm and knowledge, was a salesman’s best weapon. My next venture was into a special course in character analysis from which I lerived a nice, mouth-filling phrase: “ Buy- ing motives as determined by variations in 4 approach, physiognomy.”’ The best single word that was added to my repertoire from study of this course was “motivation.” By this time I had secured a regular territory with e of the nationally known tire manufac- turers and I recall winning more than one hotel-lobby argument by trotting out this formidable word. Not fully satisfied that I had plumbed to the uttermost depths of fascinating profession which had now become my life work, I subscribed for an- other widely heralded set of books which, if the advertisements were to be believed, would set my feet surely on the path to a I can still feel with some vividness the prickles along my spine as I toiled through such expressions as ‘“ mas- tery of the situation,” “‘dominate the inter- view,”” “exude confidence’; and I was imply fit to be tied when I got over to ‘psychological determinants.” While trying to improve myself in selling technic through this kind of reading and study, I was engaged during each working $10,000 salary day in calling on garage and service-station owners trying to persuade them that my particular tires were better merchandise than possibly a half dozen competitive brands. I do not believe that my methods of so- liciting business were at a!l influenced or aided by any of the theoretical study I was making on the subject of salesmanship. On the contrary, my two most valuable lessons in selling were so very simple that I am al- most sure no writer of books has ever men- tioned them. The first of these lessons was just a little matter of observation and applied common sense. I had been on my first ter- ritory only a short time and had made a few sales; also I had tried to keep my eyes open and was making a real effort to figure out what this business of selling was all about. Sitting in a hotel lobby one Satur- day night, the big idea came to me all ina flash. This was a hotel where many of the boys from that section of the territory made their headquarters. A group of them were playing pinochle in one corner, while another excited bunch were arguing the ad- visability of getting some bootleg liquor from old man Tappan and organizing a poker game. Suddenly it struck me that during my period of road experience thus far, cribbage, pinochle, baseball, girls, boot- leg liquor and poker were the chief topics of conversation with which I had come in contact. I realized that many of these sales- men—most of whom I had known from boyhood—did not stand very high in their communities, never amounted to much, and here suddenly I saw them divested of glamour, a group chiefly interested not in their business but in a range of outside activities extending all the way from the idly innocuous up to the genuinely vicious. A Thirteen:Word Selling Course They were not the wide-ranging and romantic pioneers of progress that I had idealized in the dreams of my boyhood; rather they were for the most part semi- failures, doomed by their own carelessness and lack of application to mediocrity and failure. I formed the very strong resolu- tion at that moment to do everything just as differently from these men as I possibly could. In wondering how I could best go about putting this resolution into effect, I happened to think that it was not yet late and that one of the local tire dealers was still at his place of business. So I went down to see him and found that he was not very busy. He seemed to appreciate having someone to talk to and we chatted for a half hour or more. Finally he asked a question about keep- ing mileage records on his customers’ tires, so that he could follow them up for addi- tional sales at about the right time. I had such a suggested record in my portfolio, which I produced and went through in de- tail with him. He liked the plan as I out- lined it, so I had to get out my order EVENING POST tell you what kind of a louse holdout artist you've been ever since the show started.” For the next fifteen seconds Slim West summoned obsolete phrases of a Western vocabulary which had been discarded under the comparatively civilizing influ- ences of life in the A. E. F. Through all of the explosion the target smiled grimly, proceeding meanwhile to adorn his uniform with glittering hardware. “That's what I mean, you native son of a seagoing goldfish!’’ Hoarder put on his coat. Cawpril Slim West wound up by clicking smartly to attention. He dished out an eagle-wing salute. “‘That’s what I think about the world’s champion jasper- louse supply sergeant—lootenant!”’ Lieutenant Hoarder returned the salute. book to make the requisition from our ad- vertising department. The rest was easy. He had never handled our brand, but I se- cured a nice stock order from him that Saturday night and he was one of our best dealers for years. From that time on I made it a point to work every night after dinner, finding lit- tle competition from other salesmen; and also finding a rather warm welcome from dealers and their employes, who would rather while away the tedium of the night shift in talking with a salesman than in doing nothing. Naturally my sales in- creased. Somehow, though, I did not ever get around to a situation where my care- fully studied science of salesmanship was of any recognizable aid, although I was constantly of the opinion that I was not so skillful as I should be. Quite often, in fact, my little visits of evenings turned out to be nothing but visits. I kept on reading my old books and such new ones as appealed to me, because I was sure I could close a larger percentage of sales if I could find some new idea that could be applied to the solution of my problem. Eventually I found a partial answer, and this was the second great lesson which really helped my sales, but did not come from a book. I was making a short jump by local train—this was before the automo- bile had become practically universal among traveling men—and by great good luck happened to have Uncle Jim MacIntyre as a traveling companion. That is not his real name, because Uncle Jim is still alive and active on his territory. At that time he had been representing the same house for forty- two years, and was the salesman among them all whom I respected most. He had put by a competence, but remained on the road for love of the work and through friendship for his dealers. I thought I would trot out some of my erudition for Uncle Jim’s benefit, and told him that I was endeavoring to put into effect some of the things I had studied in one of the books. I.was making, I ex- plained, a sort of analysis of my prospective buyers from the standpoint of facial con- figuration to ascertain in each case what the buying motive of the prospect might be. This determined, I could adjust my sales talk to motivate him in the easiest and most favorable manner to the point of an eventual sale. For example, if his buying motive was cupidity, I could talk profits; contrariwise, if his dominating motive was love of ostentation and display, I could talk about the prestige he would attain in his own community by featuring a high-priced, quality, advertised tire such as the one I was handling. A little of this was entirely too much for sulphuric old Uncle Jim. ‘‘ Unexpurgated nonsense!"’ he bellowed. ‘Listen, young feller, I can tell you everything that was ever wrote in one of them salesmanship books, and do it in two sentences.” Rather timorously I asked for the two sentences. May 25, 1929 “At rest, corporal,” he suggested. In a drizzling rain, fumbling through his pockets in a vain search for his sack of to- bacco which he had negligently left in Lieutenant Hoarder’s keeping, Cawpril Slim West returned to Squad 1, laden with bad news, talking to himself. “T rode him rough, ragged and verbal,”’ Slim reported to his fellows in Squad 1. “‘! rode him plenty-— but I got throwed. That bird’s an outlaw from now on for us horse handlers. That louse is all mule. He's a shavetail, hitched up in a Sam Browne cinch with a bulge in his pay day bigger’n my deductions. Gimme the makin’s, some- body. I lent mine to that unrode grifter, and what he gits his hooks on is worse than lost.” Shaking a hamlike fist under my nose, he replied: ‘‘Call on a lot of dealers. And ask *em to buy your stuff.” I was afraid to pursue the conversation further, so I let it drop without argument, but many times since I have been tempted to hunt Uncle Jim up and thank him for having given me that short exposition. For the next few days I kept thinking about his remark and analyzing it very thoughtfully; for I could not help believing that Uncle Jim knew a lot about how to sell goods. Finally I caught the point and realized where he had put his finger on a very weak spot in my own way of working. I had been calling on a lot of dealers, but in too many cases I had entirely failed to ask them to buy anything. Filling Up the Order Book This was a real lesson in salesmanship. I worked out a plan to get my order book out of my portfolio on every call I made from that time on and, even though I had to do it bluntly and unskillfully, I tried in every case to get in a request to buy. If possible, I took three or four refusals before finally giving up, and it was simply aston- ishing how many times I took orders in situations where previously I had only en- joyed pleasant visits. After a period of six months of unprecedented sales, my firm called me in to headquarters and placed me in charge of their sales school—but that is another story. The thing I wish to stress is that, from simple observation and conversation, I worked out a method of working my terri- tory and a piece of selling strategy, both of which were demonstrably effective in in- creasing sales. This after I had worked for a long time without result in trying to do the same thing by studying books. Not that I wish to convey the idea that books are valueless. I have not the least doubt that many true things are put down in their pages and I, for one, can always interest myself in reading any book on salesmanship. I read at least a dozen every year. But the truth of statement and the r‘erest derived from reading comprise one vet of facts, and actual applicability to the problem of selling a bill of goods is another. This is what I meant when I said we have had too much theorizing. We have had too much theorizing which, though it may be true and interesting, still is too complicated to be applied by a common or garden va- riety of salesman while in the presence of his prospect. In the years that have passed I have had the customary run of ups and downs that most humans experience, and have had three opportunities to try out my two simple lessons in selling procedure over fairly long periods on my own territory. I ventured into business for myself, lost money, went back on the road for another house, applied my two rules, made a sales record and got another promotion. After (Continued on Page 218) ee ec

Page 77

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ; 77 It's true that PERFECT CIRCLE Rings Are used by most the racing kings You know their parts must be the best To stand this long and racking test The race is on...the cars roar by And on and on they fairly fly For seven years theyve set the pace The rings that bring the racers luck By winning almost every race Are also best for car and truck They|l help your motor stand the gaff And cut your oil bill just in half HE supreme test of the speedway has confirmed v America’s car manufacturers have repeat- edly proved—the superior ability of PERFECT CIRCLE Oil-Regulating rings to control oil consumption— without loss of engine speed or power... tn your present car a complete set of PERFECT CIRCLE Oil- Regulating and Compression rings will bring back that new-car performance. Dealers and garagemen everywhere install PERFECT CIRCLES. Insist on them. THE PERFECT CIRCLE COMPANY + General Offices » HAGERSTOWN, INDIANA Comp P Oil-Regulating Double-Duty Americ -a’s Oldest Volume Producer of Piston Rings Type, 30¢ Type, 60¢ Type, 75« Plants: Hagerstown, Newcastle, Tipton, Ind. Export Offices: 549 0. Washington St., Chicago 4\% inches and over, prices slightly bigher PERFECT CIRCLE PISTON RINGS

Page 78

May 25,1929 i ® 1°) - 6) z — z ake > & be & Q & ~ i & a ~~ = b

Page 79

ee ee eee et - Ie aT queen peepee ee Ss ee Ee DUAL B L O N Delivers its surplus of big mileage with luxurious riding comfort—the cradle-like effect of 33%% greater deflation than single balloons are able to stand and without the rebound It would be difficult to imagine the ex- treme development in the modern tire of today without realizing that this is not the result of a day or a year, but the steady and certain progress of quality leadership that has made tire history from the beginning. Here, briefly, is the story step by step. ~ 7~_ ~ FIRST CAME THE FABRIC TIRE, A little bit better than the buggy tire. It was stiff—had to have high pressure—stiff fabric breaks when it bends. Narrow— more traction than the steel rim, but still not enough. Car improvement de- pended upon greater traction. Then General brought out the Jumbo—the first over-size fabric tire. -_ ~ THEN CAME THE CORD TIRE. Softer carcass. More stretch, more give. General went a step farther by originating the first low-pressure cord tire. Less air pressure. More tire on the road— more traction—not so much slip—a smoother ride with gas and power saving. Progress. This low-pressure leadership established the balloon principle. - ”" THEN CAME THE BALLOON. Bigger—less plys, softer carcass —less air. Here were greater comfort, greater traction, more power with less slip, less internal friction or heat. Not always proof against wobble and shimmy, and it was oN. | eae susceptible to punctures. The first balloons were 4-ply tires. General solved most of the balloon- tire problems by bringing out the first 6-ply bal- loon. The balloon tire was yesterday's achieve- ment. Still faster, yet safer, transportation had to be provided for. ~- ~ PROGRESS DEMANDED THE DUAL- BALLOON °8."" More than a balloon—a Dual- Balloon—and an “8” too. Advancing beyond all former balloon-tire standards. Not just an 8-ply tire, but an 8-ply base carcass with three rubber cushion plys. A softer but stronger tire—no slips. More non- skid tread on the road and longer lasting. More actual non-skid tread plus the hidden non-skid in the carcass itself. The rubber plys inside the tire give and let the whole tire grip the road like a cat’s paw. The same rubber plys take the road shocks /m the tire—a new departure from the old principle of depending on air pressure entirely —an amazing difference shown by impact re- corder tests. Twenty thousand, forty thousand, sixty thousand miles—surpassing even the great mileage records of former Generals. Season after season of uninterrupted mileage with never a worry about tires—never a thought and normally not a chance of puncture. For the millions who ride on rubber the Dua/- Balloon “8” is the epitome of progress—confirm ing the fact that the longest experience with Top- Quality will always lead the way. Built in Akron, Ohio, by The General Tire and Rubber Company ,e\" GENERAL Duaal- Balloon : ~goes a long way to make friends

Page 80

in the pot. Gideon Plantner and Son sold poker chips in circular cases with covers of black grain leather John Livsey put his things in his especial teel locker—-a steel locker of the most modern type, with perfected ventilation and a combination lock, provided by Henry Plantner—and went on out into the body if the store. It was twenty-one minutes to nine, and the doors had not yet been opened for the public. There was a dis- cussion in progress, and John Livsey, secure in his long years of service and famil- iarity with Gideon Plantner and Son, joined himself, attentive but silent, to it. Henry was addressing his father, Mr. Bennington, of the sporting-goods depart- ment, and the head bookkeeper. “Radios,” he said, “will grow more and more important. I don’t mean the cheap kind. Broadcasting is improving all the time. Today you got to hear the games and elections over the radio. We have a good radio—one of the best—but we’re not selling it right. It’s my idea to have a man do nothing but sell the Horizon; we'll have a wagon service with a radio ex- pert, and I'll shut off part of the store. We'll have a place with deep comfortable chairs and bright curtains to hear the radios in.”’ His father said: “Henry, you're going too fast. You're going so fast you'll be ahead of your trade in no time. You'll be ahead of your credit. It will take you two or three years to get your money back. If you ever get it. I founded this business as a hardware business; it’s always been that; and while I don’t deny you've brought it up, some, now you are going too far. Isn’t that your opinion, Mr. Bennington?’ Mr. Bennington admitted that Henry Plantner was a very progressive merchant. John Livsey said unexpectedly, “I think Henry is exactly right. Look what he has done with the store already. A radio isn't like a game, it isn’t golf, it's a—a necessity. As Henry said, everybody must have one. And not the cheap ones either.”’ Plantner frowned at him. “You're getting this modern fever, too, John. A hardware store isn’t a hardware store any more. Gh,dear,no. It’s sporting goods and radios. Soon we'll be carrying hocolates for Christmas.” His wit ap- pealed to him immensely. ‘‘Chocolates,” Gideon Plantner repeated, ‘Christmas ards.’ “You can trust me, father,’’ Henry re- assured him; ‘‘I haven't landed you in the Mr. Bennington, I am afraid I'll have to take a corner off your sacred space for the musie room.” Mr. Bennington protested; he had been about to ask the firm for more room still. He uuldn't display the fishing rods right, as t was. The space for radios, however, was built; an experienced clerk engaged for them; a small delivery wagon was devoted to their sole end. Whenever it was possible, John Livsey listened to the radios; he listened to them and became familiar with the broadcasting stations, the call letters possible to that location and generally, to the middle of the day. Radios, the truth was, engaged him far more than automatic pistols or archery; they engaged him more than any- thing else in the world. John Livsey was literally lost in them. He picked up, fact by fact, all the knowledge about radios he could grasp; he listened not only to the music, the speeches, but with an even greater care he attended the informal and interrupting sounds—the heterodyning, the interference squeals; he was deeply con- erned by fading and varying static. It was, he recognized, impossible to get distant stations through the day at Gideon Plantner and Sen; and late, on a Friday night, he unlocked the side entrance of the store and curned a light upon the ; radios. The best set manufactured by the , Gideon poorhouse y et. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE AIR IS NOT THIN Continued from Page 31 Horizon Corporation—electrically oper- ated, with a dynamic speaker of revolution- ary and stimulating quality, the utmost simplicity of operation—was connected, and John Livsey switched it into life. He turned the volume control down and brought a soft wave of slumber music, WJZ, into the store. The slumber music, appropriately, was melodious; it filled John Livsey not with thoughts but with vague aspirations. Somehow, it took him out of himself; he wasn't the same John Livsey. He wasn't, for example, a clerk in a hardware store; he didn’t know what he was, but it was bigger, vastly more im- portant, than that. John Livsey wasn’t happy, but then happiness didn’t make any difference to him. He was beyond happi- ness. He turned the dial to WEAF—that was silent—and then he got WLW, in Cin- cinnati. Yes, sir, as plain, as clear, as a local station. He was sitting in Gideon Plantner and Son's store in Philadelphia and listening to an orchestra playing ir a hotel at Cincinnati! How was that? A sense of adventure, of travel, possessed him. This, however, almost instantly sank to nothing—the mystical voice reborn on vi- brations of light announced WHAS, and WHAS was in Louisville, Kentucky. Ken- tucky! Why, John Livsey didn’t know how far away Kentucky was. It might be a couple of thousand miles. He was pos- sessed by the vision of a woods far different from the tranquil forest of England; he was, now, traveling through a primitive wild in a region of great mountains, high, dan- gerous mountain passes. He had on a coonskin cap and moccasins; a long rifle bound in brass lay in the hollow of his arm. He heard, in the stillness of the woods, the breaking of a twig, and instantly he was crouching immobile in the brush. Indians! Or again, he raised his rifle at a coon, far in the top of a tree, and at once the coon said, ““Don't shoot, I will come down.” That was Kentucky, the Kentucky of Daniel Boone and David Crockett. John Livsey turned from WHAS and found Florida: he discovered palm trees and coconuts—if one fell on your head it was all over with you—and heat. Then, in a second, he was in Canada; it was Mon- treal, a voice was speaking in French. Snow and companies of pine trees. Jesuits on snowshoes. Jesuits preached to the In- dians and discovered the Great Lakes. They floated down the Mississippi River and finally came to New Orleans. But they were Jesuits, foreigners, and Andrew Jack- son fought them and drove them off. Be- cause he did that and saved America, America made him President. He shifted the dial under his hand. He was in Cuba: “PWX,” heheard,andthen: “ Sugar Company.’ The announcement was made in both Spanish and English. John Livsey listened to the steel-stringed guitars of Havana. He thought of Spain and of the sinking of the Maine. Theodcre Roosevelt, another President, rode furiously up a hill waving his sword. His teeth gleamed, his mustache bristled. That martial spectacle died away; he saw girls with red carnations in coal-black hair; they played castanets and danced. They stamped their heels and held their shoulders still, tightly wrapped in blazing shawls. There were vivid green fields of sugar cane and a great rolling cloud of black smoke reaching to the sky. Cuba was all very well, but John Livsey wanted to get California. That, in the East, was almost the supreme test of a radio. There was a sound of heavy foot- falls behind him. He turned and saw a bluff, demanding policeman. “T am getting California,” John Livsey explained. ‘“‘I work here. I’ve worked for Gideon Plantner and Son twenty-eight years.” The policeman sat down at once. He had never,gpersonally, heard California. It was in his head that no one else had ever heard it either. Except in California. John Livsey shifted the dial in minute fractions of kilocycles. “It ought to come in there,” he muttered. It ought to, the policeman agreed. There was, between sudden explosions of static, a very faint music, just the trace of a woman singing. “‘That’s it!” John Livsey cried. ‘There it is. KFI!”’ The policeman asked how he knew it was KFI. The policeman thought it sounded like WOR in Newark. It couldn’t be WOR, John Livsey told him. \OR had signed off long ago. It was California. Six hun- dred and forty-three kilocycles. “T’'ll have to hear it,’ the policeman stubbornly maintained. On the Monday before Christmas Christmas that year fell upon Thursday Henry Plantner requested the employes of Gideon Plantner and Son to remain a few minutes in the store after, at ten of the evening, the store was closed. He had an announcement to make. ‘It has been our custom,” he proceeded, “‘as you know, to give each of our em- ployes at this season a sum equal to their earnings of a month. That, of course, we are continuing. But this has been an un- usually successful year, it was a remarkably good Christmas season—the radios cer- tainly contributed to that—and we intend to do more for every man in Gideon Plantner and Son. We intend to do the same, the exact same, for every man in our store. We have calculated the year’s in- creased profit and everyone is to share in it. We are each to receive the sum of two hundred and fifty dollars above all other sums owed and given to us.”” There was a prolonged applause of murmuring and handclapping. “I get two hundred and fifty dollars,” Henry Plantner went on, “John Livsey gets two hundred and fifty dollars, and my father the same. These checks and the Christmas checks will be distributed to us this Wednesday.” At supper Addie Livsey said, ‘‘Christ- mas is a word | don’t want to even hear of.” Ellis bitterly protested. ‘‘Well, I do. That’s a hell of a note, talking that way and Christmas two days off. Why will you be like that anyhow?” His voice degener- ated into a whine. “Speaking of Christmas,’’ Rosemunda observed, to James Corcoran Livsey, “‘ you might show us all what it is you got in your coat pocket. Anyways, I saw you put it there when I come home from the offjce.” He glared at her. ‘‘It ain’t nothing!’’ he protested. ‘It’s something I bought for myself.” His mother was instantly curious. ‘“‘What is it, Jimmie?” she asked. “I’m only too glad for you to have something. If you have, you’d need to get it yourself, the way things are with your father.” “It was nothing,’ James repeated. ‘It’s just a cigarette case.”’ He reluctantly pro- duced a large cigarette case made of two yellow metals. It owned a diamond clasp. “Pretty, ain’tit,’”” Rosemunda proceeded; “‘and he bought it himself. Two kinds of gold—green gold and yellow gold—with diamonds. I’ve seen them not the half of that in the best stores for two hundred dol- lars. He's certainly doing good at whatever it is he is doing.” “Probably,” James Corcoran Livsey’s mother said—‘“‘ probably it was give to him for his dancing. Well, nobody will give me nothing, no matter what I might do.” There were, however, she added, several things she'd like to give John Livsey. ‘‘ And prominent among them is a ticket to some- where else.” Rosemunda studied her briefly. ‘‘ You’re swell,” she observed. ‘Full of nice ideas when you think what the season is. It’s lucky I don’t expect nothing. Not here, that is. I wouldn’t put anything more on papa. He’s got enough. Too much, if you ask me.” May 25, 1929 Nobody, Addie Livsey pointed out, had asked her. ‘“‘Nobody asked you, and what’s more they won’t. There’s just one child in this family takes after their mother.”” Rosemunda said she hoped it wasn’t her. “Don’t speak like that about your mother,”’ John Livsey directed her. ‘ Re- member that she is your mother.” “What of it?’’ Rosemunda demanded. “That’s what I want to know. What of it? She’s some mother—that is, if you say it fast.” John Livsey was suddenly weary of the never-ending trouble which surrounded him at home. The ill-natured noise. He said so. “You'd think a man could have a min- ute’s peace at his own table. It ain’t this way just one day or for a week, but the whole year. I told you before about speak- ing to your mother, Rosemunda. And in reference to James, remember, it ain't all gold that glitters.” James furtively examined his cigarette vase. Pride forced him to assert that it was gold all right. Two colors of gold. He gave Rosemunda a swift evil glance. “It won’t get you nothing to narrow your eyes at me,” she informed him. “If you bother me I'll tell the boy I’m going with and he'll knock you loose from the pavement.” “He can do it, too,” Ellis told James. “IT seen him with Rosemunda. A cake- eater wouldn’t have no chance with him.” James Corcoran Livsey slapped his younger brother full and hard across the face. Ellis choked convulsively. He didn’t cry. “When I get bigger,” he managed to say, “T'll kill you. I'll kill you, you dirty coward. You big stiff.’’. He was a coward, Rosemunda added. Addie Livsey wasn’t disturbed. She was judicious, in a fat, blond, dirty manner. “It was coming to him,”’ she announced: “Ellis was impertinent to his older brother. Jimmie ought to have slapped him crooked. I'm glad he done it, for one.” Rosemunda studied her with an air of smoldering hatred. “Well, I’m not,” John Livsey disagreed with his wife. ‘‘ James was wrong, and par- ticular wrong to hit his little brother at the supper table.” He had put off telling them about the unexpected two hundred and fifty dollars, the unparalleled generosity of Gideon Plantner and Son, until a comparatively quiet moment arrived, a general attention; but that time, it seemed to him now, was never to come. He couldn't think why he should tell them about the money anyhow; they were all so bad-natured, smacking one another in the face, and the way they talked. He suddenly realized that his family had no interest in him, they had no love for him. He was just something they put up with because he was there, because he brought home money for them to live on. They never gave his comfort, his peace of mind, his happiness, a thought. He wasn’t, where his family was concerned, even human. He would not, then, tell them about their great good fortune, the amazing sum of money that had come to them. After all, he wasn’t sure it had come to them; they had done nothing to earn it. They didn’t deserve it. They knew nothing about it. His mind deserted his family; it returned to his efforts to get California on the Hori- zon radio at Gideon Plantner and Son’s store. He hadn’t been successful. That was, he had not been able to hear the call letters, KFI. The policeman remained skeptical. He had heard Florida, two sta- tions, though, and Cincinnati and Canada and Havana in Cuba. He had listened to a man speaking over WHAS, in Louisville, Kentucky. A surprising idea, an extraor- dinary possibility, took possession of him. After all, why not? They never gave him a (Continued on Page 85

Page 81

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ARE YOU JUST BEAUTY ? Look into Performance! ; The vital need in motoring today is pep Beauty you must have. But are not all pre automobiles good lookers? In fact, it has been pointed out that ther side rable resemblance in the strikin current cars but much less similarity motor ability In most cases you'll find the answer in the | used The outstanding performers « equipped with Nelson Bohnalite Pi This newest piston is an ingenious of Bohnalite—a new ght alloy than iron yet just as hard Imbedded in this advanced piston ar Struts which control expansion and The use of this piston means recipr can be lightened; inertia overcome motor becomes a snappy one =; Motor cars equipped with this piston er more spirited, ale rt, vibratior ess a - This is an age of needed performan = you get it in the car you buy lf EE have your eve on is equipped MS Bohnalite Pistons, you’re safe —S For swifter getaway—marv: spec d and the eliminati longe rtours can be en an automobile equipped Pistons Most of the best cars, Special alloy steel! Back a : with this advanced prod bohns--theoriginalinva Steel Struts re cast in, you buy 4sk th , BOHN ALUMINUM & BRASS COR clearances under all er DETROIT, MICHIGAN gine operating condition

Page 82

The New White Sixes | The iatest additions to the complete line of White trucks and busses. Fast —dependable and economical. Capable of maintaining higher average speeds on all routes. Dynami- cally balanced, large diameter, seven-bearing crankshaft. Aluminum pistons, double invar struts. Air cleaner and hot spot down-draft manifold. Vacuum system gasoline feed. Four-wheel hydraulic brakes. Long, semi-elliptic alloy steel springs with re- bound plates on front springs. Chassis fully equipped. Model 60-—-Light delivery, 6000 | to 8000 ibs. grose weight. Medel 61 — Light duty, 8000 to 10,500 Ibe. grees weight. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 The Leaders of Write today to the White Branch or Dealer in your city or to The White Com- pany in Cleveland for a copy of this book.

Page 83

a | THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 83 American Business have invested I million dollars in White Trucks and Busses ~e to them transportation is the life blood of better business, better distribution and better service to the public mee The great White Roll Call, published annually for the past eighteen years, again tells the greatest transportation story ever told... 1311 of the country’s foremost owners oper- ating 46,511 Whites in fleets of ten or more —3270 more Whites than last year—9I1 additional owners who are now operating fleets of ten or more—and not listed are tens of thousands of additional owners operating fleets of less than ten, or single Whites. ~ “~ ~ To THE AVERAGE PERSON trans- portation is simply a modern facility for moving people and merchandise. The public accepts its convenience and demands its efficiency. But to the great business concerns listed on the White Roll Call, transportation is part and parcel of sound business. It must extend service of a thousand different kinds to the most people at the least cost. To these big users of trucks, there is a single rule to follow in the purchase of equipment—the best that money can buy, based on durability, quality, economy, dependability and earning power. The continued growth of the White Roll Call is overwhelming proof of the superiority of White Trucks and White Busses. This year again new fleets and greater ones—a bigger total of fleets, in a broader variety of service all over the world, in all lines of business. There are Whites on this Roll Call that have run and earned for ten, twelve and fourteen years and are serving with profit today, with mileage records of 100,000, 200,000, 300,000 miles and more to their credit. The tremendous growth of the White Roll Call pre- vents listing the names of owners in a single adver- tisement. The complete list, with number of Whites owned, is now published in book form. Every busi- ness man who uses one truck or a fleet should read the White Roll Call Book, tracing the history of these great fleets year by year and containing the most convincing proof of earning power ever published. No other truck or bus manufacturer has ever pub- lished such a volume of evidence of uninterrupted, profit-building service. No other manufacturer can. THE WHITE COMPANY + CLEVELAND

Page 84

I wonder why people forget my name It does sort of hurt my feelings — people always forgetting my name. Somehow I don’t seem to impress I meet a man [| admire a lot and then when I meet him a second time I have to explain that Walter Powers introduced us last Thursday at the station. Somehow | don’t seem to impress people. Maybe I look so average that there’s nothing sharp or definite for them to remember me by. Something sharp and definite for people to remember — like the trim, unwrinkled look of success that marks Walter Powers and Jim Perkins! The trim, anwrinkled look of success that people don’t forget! At least that’s one thing I can have — the trim, unwrinkled look of success that people don’t forget. Advantages of the Valetor method of scientific clothes pressing are listed in the column to the right. Write us for the helpful booklet entitled “How to Make Clothes Look Better — Last Longer.”

The *VALETOR sign on the window of an establishment means: In this place your clothes pressing will be done with mod- ern pressing equipment. In this place the people who press your clothes have specialized information on the care and pressing of the various materials and garments.

Please write us to send you the free, helpful booklet en- titled “How to Make Clothes Look Better—Last Longer.” *The word «Waletor™ is a trade-mark, registered in the U. S. Patent for use in connection with pressing machinery manufactured and sold by the LU. S. Hoffman Machinery Corporauon. Its unauthorized use by others is unlawful. VAL ENDABLE PRESSING SERVICE THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

* OF rman mache May 25,1929 New Facts about Clothes Pressing Through modern pressing equipment the care of clothes has become a scientific operation which delivers far more than perfectly pressed garments. ODORS REMOVED Arm-pit and trouser waist-band and center seams are freed from offensiveness. The odors of per- spiration which cause garments to be unpleasant are removed by heat, steam and vacuum. NAP RAISED Clothing comes back to you soft-dried; never hard, never damp. The nap of the fabric is ac- tually raised and the lustre of the cloth restored. GERMS KILLED Germs are always present in clothes that have been worn. This pressing method, using tem- peratures at about the range at which surgical instruments are sterilized, kilis the disease germs of influenza, common colds, pneumonia, tuber- culosis and skin diseases. MOTH EGGS DESTROYED This method of pressing destroys moth eggs and larvae which may lie within the weave of woolen goods. The eggs of other insects and the insects themselves are also destroyed. VACUUM DRYING Dry heat, harmful to fabrics, is not used in the Valetor method. Garments never have a stiff, boardy finish. They have the soft-dry, luxurious feel of new clothes. They are ready to put on instantly. CREASES LAST LONGER Regular pressing by this method maintains the original balance and fine lines of your suit. The pressed effect lasts longer. CAN’T HARM DELICATE DRESSES By regulated steam pressure the Valetor smooths wrinkles gently and safely, sending back your loveliest chiffon, crépe or satin frock soft and fresh. AVAILABILITY The Valetor sign is on the windows of clothes pressing shops with this modern equipment. Look for the Valetor sign in your neighborhood. You'll probably find one nearby. If not, write us for the name of the nearest one. U. S. Hoffman Machinery Corporation, 105 Fourth Avenue, New York City In Canada: Canadian Hoffman Machinery Company, Limited 91, Don Roadway, Toronto, Canada

¢ © U.S. Hoffman Machinery Corp., 1929

See —Ee il | _—_—< ep Oe +. apes ——— = == * —~—- MOREE, as

Page 85

Sa =—_.- pee eT ae — ee — (Continued from Page &U) thought. He couldn’t remember when he had spent a dollar on himself that wasn’t strictly necessary. He hadn’t spent a dol- lar for pleasure—his own pleasure—since he had been married. Once again in the store, he approached Henry Plantner. John Livsey’s heart was laboring with excitement. “Henry,” he said, “it’s wonderful good of you to give us that extra money. Not many firms would do that just because they had a little over themselves. But, Henry, I'll tell you what I was thinking. I'll never have another opportunity to get one. I'd like to take Model 206, the all-electric Ho- rizon radio, in place of a check. Its retail price is two hundred and thirty dollars, and I’d need to have the tubes. Will that be all right with the firm?” “Tt will not be all right,”” Henry Plantner replied. “It would be all wrong, after all our years together, your honest service and fidelity to father and me. I wouldn’t think of letting you pay the retail price of any- thing in the store. No, John, you'll get the Model 270 Horizon set. That retails at four hundred dollars, but the cost price is different. You'll have the benefit of that. I’ll give you the tubes personally. From me to you at this season of Christmas.” It was, John protested, too much. He hadn’t expected ——- Henry Plantner, with a good-natured finality, turned away from him. Gideon Plantner came up later. “I hear you’re taking merchandise instead of money,” he said to John Livsey. “That's right. Shows confidence in the establish- ment. You are not entirely eaten up with the new ideas.” What, Addie Livsey demanded, was the noise about in the hall? She asked this standing in the lower hall, almost filling it. “You'll have to move,” her husband told her. ‘‘ Nobody can get by you the way you are.”” Two men advanced with a heavy and ornate object in wood. “What is it?” Addie persisted. “T’'ll tell you,” John Livsey replied. “That is a No. 270 Horizon radio. Prob- ably the best radio on the market.” Well, Addie proceeded, she didn’t want it around. She'd said that already and more than oncet. “Besides that, I don’t know where you'd set it.” It would be set, John told her, in the din- ing room, in the space between the bay windcw and the sideboard. There was room for it there and a plug handy. No such a thing was there a plug handy. That was the plug she, Addie, used ail the time for her curler. John Livsey ignored her. “Straight back,” he said to the men with the radio. “‘I don’t know how you got it, anyways,” Addie Livsey proceeded. ‘‘ You’ve been ly- ing to us is how. Lying to your wife and children. You took the money off your children’s backs is what you done.” John Livsey regarded her absent- mindedly. “‘As a fact,” he said, “it was give tome. Gideon Plantner and Son made me a present of it.” Later his wife exclaimed, ‘Those men will have to get right down off the roof. They’ll make holes in the tin. The idea!” They would get down, John informed her, when the aerial for the radio was finished. He switched on power, he turned the dial, and the first floor of the Livsey house was filled with a fine, deep music. “I got to go upstairs,” Addie com- plained; “‘it gives me the headache.” John Livsey had already forgotten her; he was listening to the call letters of a small and unfamiliar Philadelphia broadcasting sta- tion. “T never even heard of it,”’ he told him- self. He then got Wilmington, in Delaware, and Lancaster, in Pennsylvania. “Lan- caster!” he cried aloud. “‘What do you think of that?” He turned and found that he was address- ing, he was facing, his son, James Cor- coran Livsey. He saw, in spite of his absorption, that something was the matter THE SATURDAY with James. He was carefully dressed in his tight pants, a skimpy coat, as usual, his hair was solidly brushed back from his narrow brow, but his face wasn’t right. For one thing it was about the color of milk. “I have to see you,”” he muttered. “Well, you see me,” John Livsey irvitably replied. James Corcoran continued, “I got to have money right away. Two hundred dol- lars. I—I have to be out in Chi.” His father asked, “‘ Chi?” James grew shrill. ‘Don’t be such a dumb number!” he advised John Livsey. “Chicago. What-did you think it was? Anyways, I got to go there this afternoon.” “Well,” John replied, “I wouldn’t stop you. If you got to be there, that’s all there is to it. It’s hard on Chicago, but I can’t help that.” “Ah, don’t be funny. I tell you I got to have two hundred dollars. Quick. You're my father, ain’t you? You're responsible for me.” “T suppose I am, but it don’t seem to bear down on me very heavy. Not any more.” “Will you give it to me?” ‘ No.” James Corcoran Livsey’s expression grew vicious. He stood with hanging hands, furtively studying his father. Then the edge of his determination broke. Tears wet his thin face. ‘I must have it,” he begged his father. “I got to get away. If I don’t I'll be killed. I'D be killed tonight.” He dragged at John Livsey’s shoulders. ‘‘ You wouldn't let me be killed. You wouldn’t want to see me kilied. I’m your son Jimmie.” John Livsey regarded his son James Cor- coran coldly. No emotion stirred within hira. “To tell you the truth,” he said at last, “‘I wouldn’t care much what happened to you. As for two hundred dollars, I couldn’t give it to you even to get rid of you.” James, with a glistening forehead, cursed him in a rapid, filthy mumble. Sud- denly, in his noiseless shoes, he disappeared. “James said he wouldn't be home for supper,” Addie Livsey observed later. “He won’t be home for a good many suppers,”’ John Livsey added. “I saw him when he left, and he was in a hurry. It ap- pears somebody was after him to kill him. It would be enough for me if he just didn’t core back.” Rosemunda said, “‘ That’s the first I ever heard you say anything with any nerve to it. You're usually afraid to speak.” Her mother put in: “ You ain’t.” Rosemunda went on: “Nor you. I thought I could stay here listening to you for the winter, but I can’t. I’m going the first of the week. Nobody’s chasing me, neither. This house ain’t fit to live in. It’s never been long as I’ve known it. I hate to put my clothes on the chairs at night.” “I understand all about you,” her mother asserted; “I’ve stated it several times. You want to get where your mamma anc. your papa can’t see your goings on.” “Mamma,” Rosemunda mocked her; “pupa. You're a fine pair!” She turned to her father: “‘ You're nothing but a sap. That’s what you are. Anybody would be a sap to put up with what you do. You haven’t had a respectable thing to eat since you got married a thousand years ago. You've hardly ever had a decent word said to you in your own house. You're worse than a sap; you're a cipher. You're zero, that’s it.” She returned to her ma- ternal parent, mimicking her again: “Mamma. You're a hot mamma. The marnma stuff is all played out anyhow. For such as you. You ain’t a human being and you ain’t acow. I wouldn’t know what you were. I’m your daughter, all right, but I recovered from it. I won’t have to see you again after this week. Don’t make no mis- take about that—I won’t be back.” “T’ll be glad to have you out of the house,” Addie Livsey replied; ‘“‘you al- way’s was a sharp and ungrateful child. An unnatural daughter. Hell’s where you are bound for.”’ EVENING POST “Go wash your face,”’” Rosemunda ad- vise her. “You'll have to take kerosene to it.” John Livsey switched on his radio; he turned the dial to seven hundred, to WLW. The Dinacone Diners in Cincinnati were playing a waltz like the long slow swell of the sea. It carried John Livsey away from his family, it bore him again away from himself. An old-fashioned waltz. He thought of geranium flowers. It seemed to | John Livsey that he was floating in the measures of the waltz, dancing with a || lovely girl who smelled of cologne. A girl | who loved him. A girl he leved. He couldn’t marry her though. She was prom- ised to someone else. The wedding day was set. The music was like the pain in his heart. He turned the dial; a man was reciting poetry. The poem ended, the an- nouncer spoke: “Station KOA, Denver, Colorado.” There was Denver, as plain as if the announcer was right in the room ; with him! “That was Denver,” he explained. No one answered him. Except for John Livsey and the voice from Colorado, the room was | empty and silent. Ellis, his younger son, | was out on the streets; Rosemunda had | left his house; James Corcoran Livsey fled | in a panic from the city. Something about the woman, the brass check, Rosemunda | had spoken of. Addie, he guessed, was in | bed. That was a very good place for her. He was, he found, relieved by James Cor- coran’s absence. If only he didn’t return! | It was different about Rosemunda; she would always get along good anywhere. How she had talked to her mother! Told her to wash her face in kerosene. That wasn’t right, John Livsey thought, and yet he wesn’t able to stir up a bit of indigna- tion. Rosemunda would be better by her- self. Anybody was better by theirselves. Fathers and mothers, families, weren't so much. Not to his experience. They was mostly all talk. He turned the dial of the radio. Darkies and banjos in Miami. A gay rattle of voices and strings. The radio was all the family he had any need for. The number of people in his house, John Livsey told himself, was reduced consider- able, but that didn’t seem to make any difference in the noise. Ellis didn’t say much; Ellis had been notably subdued by all the late occurrences in the Livsey house- hold, but Addie never stopped talking. She never ended her complaints. Her charges really: “‘ You drove Jimmie out of the house is what you done. You never understood him. Jimmie took after me and his maternal grandmother. She was an artiste. His blood was delicate- like. You could tell that on him from his dancing. But you drove him out into the hard world.” John Livsey grew tired of hearing her. “That’s nonsense, Addie, and you know it. James got in trouble and had to leave the city. Didn’t he come to me for two hun- dred dollars and admit someone was about to kill him?” “Yes, and what did you tell him?” “IT said it was all one to me,” John Liv- sey admitted. “And so it was. I was wore out with him. Like I’m wore out with you.” “Well, you won't put me on the streets,” she warned him. ‘Not while I got my senses, you won't. I'll have the law on you. You got to support me. I’m your wife.” “You are for a fact; it’s a fact you are,” he admitted. “I don’t know what that means, but it’s true.”” He studied her with a troubled brow. There ought to be some- thing he could do about it. There didn’t seem to be. He hadn’t noticed, until Rose- munda had mentioned it, how careless, how dirty, Addie was. Rolls of dirty fat. Wisps of careless, soiled, pale hair. Why, Addie couldn’t be more than forty years old. And look at her. He gave up the effort to eat green string beans that were precisely like green strings. There had been veal for dinner. it was veal. You couldn’t be sure. At least it was his guess 85 RUGS Bright surfaced—felt base Up-to-date patierns Easily cleaned + Moderately priced Asphalt-slate surfaced Varied colors Fire-retarding « Minimum expense ROOFS DEFY WATER AND WEAR BIRD & SON, inc East WALPOLE, MASSACHUSETTS CHICAGO NEW YORK In Canada BunLDING Paopucts, LTD. Montreal

Page 86

THE SATURDAY and Crotch Comfort! Super-Shorts Utterly new, the comfort of Super-Shorts. The freedom they allow every bend of the body is exclu- sively theirs. Only they have no center seam to wedge and bind. No other shurts combine this roominess with tailored trimness. @@ The backpanel is the reason—a Wilson Brothers inspiration and origi- nation, with patents applied for. @® More, Super-Shorts set the pace in fashionable un- derwear. In Blend-Suits with shirts, or separately, this aristocrat of smartness and comfort is tailored in a range of the latest colors. Ask your haberdasher for Super-Shorts. WILSON BROTHERS Su P&T Shorts PATE RTS APPLIED FOR NO Center Seam DISCOMFORT © 1929, Witeon Bros. EVENING POST “You needn’t to threaten me,” Addie Livsey kept on and on. “I’m able for you. You don’t know it, but I’ve always been able for you. It’s like Rosemunda said, you’re a sap. You’re a sap and you get what you deserve.” John Livsey regarded her with a shadow on his mouth. “If you can’t eat your beans,” she told him, “it’s because you oughtn’t to have beans you can eat.” He went to the radio and turned on WJZ. Loud. The room shook with a blast of brass. Addie screamed, “‘Turn that thing off!” He paid no attention. Suddenly she pushed by him and shook the radio viciously. “Hey!” he cried, gripping her arm. You'll break the filaments.” He shoved her back. “Don’t you never do that again,” he directed her. The shadow had deepened on his mouth. His gaze searched into her consciousness. She stood for a moment breathing in gusts; then Addie left the din- ing room. The blare of the brass subsided; there was a whisper of strings—a sound you might hear in the leaves if a wind could make sounds so cool and sweet. A wind run- ning through leaves. Green running leaves. Leaves like water. A temple with white columns and people moving in white. People in white with wreaths of flowers moving behind white columns. The sea beyond a high green meadow. The blue sea scarred with white waves far below a green head- land. Sandals in the wet sweet grass and bare wet ankles. Above everything, peace, tranquillity, happiness, rest. John Livsey heard his wife tramping ponderously above his head. He went to the small room where Rosemunda had slept; he occupied Rose- munda’s bed. It was January, and Gideon Plantner and Son was stock taking. Everyone in the | store stayed late into the night; they were | in the store past midnight, but John Liv- sey didn’t mind that; it brought him home at a good hour to try the radio, to fish for California. He had often heard faint music, voices, where, on the dial, California, KFI, should be audible, but he never could distinguish the call letters. He couldn’t— like the policeman—be really certain. He was honest with himself; he would not say he had listened to California until he heard the letters and the words “Los Angeles.” It was, he saw, coming | into his house, nearly one o’clock. The night was cold and still. Splendid, he thought, for getting distance. John Livsey went back to the dining room, and he was so familiar with it, he knew his radia. so well, that he sat before it, switched it on without turning to a light. There was no answering hum. The dial was not illuminated. “The wire’s off the plug,”’ he told him- self. He saw, however, that it wasn’t. A tube was loose, John Livsey proceeded. He swung the top of the radio up. No, it wasn't that either. It wasn’t that; the power tube, the celebrated TX370, was smashed. The broken glass, the dead fila- ment, littered the interior of the radio. John Livsey sat down, gazing speculatively May 25, 1929 at the wooden case before him, his lips in a thoughtful pucker. At last he spoke aloud. He said “This is too much.”’ He repeated that exact phrase. He went deliberately into the kitchen and selected, from the untidy confusion at the sink, a long knife— a bread knife with a broad heavy blade. It, like everything around it, was soiled, and he stopped to clean the knife on a towel lying over the back of a chair. Then he went up to the room where Addie was sleeping. He switched on the light and— Addie was unconscious—she woke up suddenly. “What is the matter?” she asked in an addled voice. She propped herself up on a huge bare elbow, and then, it was apparent, she saw the knife. Her mouth dropped open. “Did you break the TX370 power tube in my radio?” John Livsey demanded. “I got sick of the racket,” Addie replied. “I never wanted it around here anyways.” John Livsey took a step toward her, he gripped the knife in his hand more firmly, and the woman screamed, “Johnny! Johnny!” He stopped, confused. Addie hadn’t called him Johnny since the year of their marriage. It upset him, spoiled his deter- mination; the past swam about him in a vision that blurred his eyes and choked at his throat. Addie! A young thing with fly- away hair and a rattle tongue. His palms were cold and wet and his knees shook. “‘ Addie,” he said, “I made up my mind to kill you. You broke the power tube in the radio and I was going to cut your head off.” His words had a curious buzzing, an unreal sound, to him. Addie Livsey col- lapsed on the bed, her face buried in a pillow, and there was a strangled sound of frightened sobs. John Livsey gazed curi- ously at what he could see of her. For years now she had been driving him mad, when all the while there wasn’t nothing to it. There wasn’t a thing to her. He hada narrow escape! It was no use to kill Ad- die. She was just a noise—an empty fat noise. All he had to do with Addie was to turn on WJZ. Any powerful station. An enormous sense of relief settled over John Livsey. Suddenly, he felt, the noise, the static, that for years had made his ex- istence unendurable, had stopped. “Don’t you ever touch that set again,” he instructed her. She shook her head in a convulsive and agreeing negative. ‘‘ Those power tubes cost money,” John Livsey went on. “That one I had was particular good.”” He saw that he was still holding the bread knife, and he went at once, awkward and hasty, down to the kitchen. He laid the knife away and stopped before the in- terrupted radio. It was very cold in the house and he shivered uncontrollably. John Livsey was certain—the night was so cold and still—that he could have heard the signal from California if it hadn’t been for Addie. However, she would never lift a hand against his radio again. Addie was fixed forever. DRAWN BY G. B. INWOOD Returned Vacationist: ‘‘I Thought We Were to Get Paid During Vacation." Employer: **True. But We Have to Deduct Enough to Reimburse Us for the Week Before You Go and the Week After You Come Back"’ ‘ [ | | : { EE i A 527.

Page 87

527 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PACKARD Only where talent and indus- try are rewarded, can the highest standard of quality craftsmanship be maintained Packard men are carefully chosen. Their native skill is enhanced by Packard training. Inspec- tion is rigid, but supervision is friendly and help- ful. Initiative is fostered—aptitude rewarded. Merit may be sure of recognition. The human element is all-important. No other factor—design, engineering, methods or mate- rials—overshadows craftsmanship in its contri- bution to Packard quality. And so at Packard there has been developed an organization of skilled artisans, schooled to one standard of quality workmanship—the highest. Thousands of Packard craftsmen have been at their duties for five and more years—hundreds upwards of a decade. Their loyal and intel- ligent co-operation has helped measurably to build Packard’s priceless reputation for outstanding leadership in the fine car field. wWwH oO OWN S ON E

Page 88

Dirt-filled oil | comes from your crankcase to the AC Oil Filter Clean oi! flows from the filter back to your engine | | | Why it pays to CHANGE YOUR AC THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE TIGER’S MOUTH notion that it was better for a man to die with his boots on. The Witch had way on her again, but he could not get the clank of her pump out of his ears. Awkward. Awkward beyond anything in his experience. The nearest | dry dock, if he failed to put the ship into this river, was at Batavia, on Java. That | was too far; and even if the Witch did sur- vive the run down the China Sea against the monsoon, those Dutchmen, with whom would voyage. Yet—had he been at fault in taking Lan Fong as a passenger? The daughter of Man Ho, who, more than any one man, had made Arad’s owners rich? Captain | Arad, down into the ship’s cabin, ' looked hard at Lan Fong, fairest of China’s | golden lilies. Her patrician helplessness - caught at his throat. But so, too, did that | imperiled quarter of a million in specie | below decks drag with ‘its whole weight at his trader’s heart. “Will you drink tea?” Lan asked. Her English, from her London residence, | was good. Her vermilion lips looked dark | against the heavy dusting of rice powder on her cheeks. She was, he saw, the very | Chinaman’s idea! of woman, with her saucy | little circle of a mouth, the velvety black | eyes, the little oblong cars and shining hair. The gold bells on her jacket made tiny tinklings as she swayed. It was marvelous how, with all trace of knee and ankle action _ banished, there was still such a yield of | deferential grace left to the upper body, to | the arms and hands, to the almond eyes that looked obliquely over the white feathers of the ivory-slatted fan. She had heated tea over the cabin lamp, and now presented him the cup with a saucer inverted over it, to prevent the aroma from escaping. “Tomorrow you take me to my father?” she uttered, with a lift of the narrow eye- brows that nearly met over the nose. “Your father is not here,” Arad said bluntly. “He is bankrupt. He is banished. He is in Elee.” The almond eyes disappeared behind the fan and Lan’s grief was expressed in a | slight giggle. OIL FILTER CARTRIDGE every 10,000 miles “eas oil is essential to a sweet- running engine. But you need not change oil oftener than 2,000 | miles. if you help your AC Oil | Filter do its duty. “Who else will take you?” Arad asked. “No one.” “No one?” “You, Captain Whitney, put me with your belongings.” The silver bird crowning her porcelain being, and like that, infinitely fragile, had a gentle quiver of his filigreed wings. Captain Arad sat in the cabin of the frigate Menelaus, the slashing British forty- four, under the command, it had turned out, of his friend Captain Ellis Barker. The two men had met in London, through Barker’s reading of that monograph on the | Java Sea which the Yankee had written for publication by the London Society for the Propagation of Useful Knowledge. They were renewing their friendship now over a | brandy float and the square-cut, free- In time the Oil Filter itself be- | comes filled with the dirt taken | from the oil. new AC Oil Filter Cartridge every | 10,000 miles—to make it as good | as ever. Installed in a few minutes | by your dealer. drawing cheroots imported from Manila. The frigate captain’s long, narrow and force- ful head was turned toward Arad with a htly puzzled look. All it needs is a | slightly “Tt's a ticklish affair,” he said. “About the only effect the commissioner’s destroy- "ing all that opium has had has been to in- | erease the value of the growing crop in India. The Dutch knew that principle when they destroyed over half the spice groves of Sumatra. Opium keeps coming, | and these fast crabs run it in through the AC Spark Plug Company. Fut, Michigan AC-SPHINX AC-TITAN Birmingham Clichy (Seine) ENGLAND FRANCE © 1929, AC Spark Plug Co. | back creeks, and the men take it ashore in their sleeves. The mandarins, of course, wink at it. I’m told the admiral himself smokes it, and he has just got a second pea- cock feather in his cap for his services in putting down the traffic.” (Continued from Page 17) “The stuff has got its claws in deep,” Arad said. “Deuce take it,”” Barker said, “I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that we planted the habit in the first place, to furnish an avenue for trade. Well, so we did. All the same, what is worrying the emperor is not the harm done by smoking it but the drain of silver out of the country. Naturally, the trade can only be carried on for cash— Mexican dollars and sycee silver.” The frigate captain threw out a cloud of smoke and sniffed his cheroot suspiciously. “Opium?” Captain Arad asked. “I wouldn’t put it past the beggars,” Barker muttered. ‘“‘Maybe they think they can put me to sleep with a little in- fusion of opium in my tobacco. It’s this riot in the temple of the Silver Moon that’s brought us into a clinch. Five of my men are implicated, and the Chinese commis- sioner demands their surrender to be tried by Chinese forms of trial. Ask yourself, old man, whether I’m going to deliver up these poor devils—good men, too, if I do say it— to be strangled? I’ve tried them myself and found them guilty of some bally crime and put them in the brig. Well, that doesn’t satisfy the authorities ashore.” “Evidently not,” Captain Arad mut- tered, looking through the open port at the chain of bamboo rafts stretching all across the Boca Tigris—the tiger’s mouth, as the P had dubbed it, from the red sand hills on either side. War junks were clustered thick back of this boom, and oiled-paper fans on the battlements ashore fluttered thick as leaves in Vallombrosa. And in the very center of the boom was Michael O’Cain’s confiscated ship, painted blood red, crammed with men and powder, and with the insignia of invincibility—a black dragon swallowing a yellow moon— hanging from the main truck. Her new name, Unconquerable, was painted on her sails in crimson characters. “T’ll tell you what they call war meas- ures,” Barker said bitterly. “They won’t deliberately fire the first shot, but they let slip a fire ship in the middle of the night, and they’ve poisoned all the wells outside the city walls. They offer twenty thousand Spanish dollars to anyone who will take one of our eighty-gun ships. Deuced clever of them, captain, considering that we haven’t an eighty-gun ship within ten thousand miles.” “The emperor has ordered the heads of the chief barbarians to be sent to him in a basket, I hear,” Arad grinned. “Barbarians! Barbarians!” Captain Barker shouted, standing with his legs straddled in front of a full-length portrait of Lord Amherst. “I tell you, it gets under my skin, the cool way they refer to us in official dispatches as barbarians and red bristles. Makes a fellow feel like a dashed Visigoth, Whitney.” “Well, aren’t we? We bring them sharks’ fins and fish maws and birds’ nests, and they give us silks and pearls and porce- lains.”’ “Dash it all, who eats the birds’ nests— we or they? Who has the power, and who has the compassion not to use it? Bless my soul, what would happen if I let fly at that fort, say, with one broadside of the Menelaus. Look at it. The Old Duck, they call it, and the one across the way is Greatly Excellent. Greatly Excellent! Why, deuce take me, Whitney, those embrasures the guns are set in are gateways. You could drive the lord mayor’s coach through any one of them, and they’ve got wooden fold- ing doors that would fill those soldiers so full of splinters they couldn’t wink their eyes, if I pitched a shot or two in there. And they’ve let those banyan trees grow up because they have an idea that the shade of ’em makes the soldiers bulletproof. Fancy that.” Arad gotupabruptly, knocking his cotton- covered cork helmet against the heavy white beam supporting the gun deck. May 25,1929 “They'll certainly never be fit to enter the brotherhood of nations until they have western guns and western methods,” he said without the vestige of a smile. He stared through the open starboard port at the great choke of brilliant shipping against which the Tiger’s Mouth had set its teeth. Country ships from India and Penang, Arab traders from Muscat, broad-backed Indiamen with swelling sides and double tiers of ports, topsail schooners, lorchas, junks; even the very grain junks—life bringers—had been excluded with the rest, because, the whisper was now, a ruse was feared. Those junks might be filled with Chinese traitors maneuvering to break the boom in order to bring down the scanda- lously high price of opium. Hardly a ship in sight was lacking its quota of the sleepy brown balls, packed in poppy leaves, twenty to the tray, forty in a chest. No bigger than a man’s two fists, each ball was a giant world, and each world a giant’s dream. Even the little yellow admiral would hardly set about enforcing the emperor’s decree without first a roguish whiff of that dried poppy juice which made him a conqueror without the need of moving so much as the shadow of an eyelash. “One shot from you will break the boom,” Arad told his friend. “If I could speak impartially—which, frankly, I can’t, with my ship up to her knees in water al- ready—I’d advise you to force the lock, for everybody’s good.” “"Pon my soul, I can’t, without more provocation,” Barker said. “As it is,” the trader pointed out, “they’re dying in behind the boom like flies. Locusts have got into the rice, O’Cain tells me, and beating gongs doesn’t seem to frighten them away. They’re short of water, too, from having poisoned so many wells for our benefit. A quick stroke, Barker. Cut the Gordian knot.” “Why not cut it yourself?” the frigate captain jested, with a flash of his white teeth. “You flowery-flag devils have got the same interest in trade that we have. I don’t like to see this a British war exclu- sively. If I pitch the first shot into those rafts, there’s sure to be a yell at home from the opposition benches. You see? Ram- ming the filthy drug down the poor devils’ throats when they’re making a last-ditch stand against it, and that sort of thing.” “You mean, if I make a try to get back O’Cain’s confiscated ship, say ———"’ “Well, naturally, I couldn’t see a friend in trouble without looking into it.” “You'd run out the frigate’s guns?”’ “All I could without yawing her,” Barker laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Splendid. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? The song of a sparrow can start an avalanche, they tell me, Whitney.” “They do say so,” the captain of the sinking Water Witch replied dryly. ‘The way it is, even a bamboo fight between a couple of these naughty little water women would loom big.” A moment later, sitting in the stern sheets of his jolly-boat, he looked hard across the water at his ship. Even since sunrise she had got lower in the water. Michael O’Cain’s fast crab was grappled to the rail, as if to hold her up; and Michael himself Arad found in the Witch’s cabin, singing a sly Chinese song for the delecta- tion of Lan Fong. He had a bamboo flute in his hands, tea was growing cold at his elbow, and Lan’s fan was up, with just the points of her obsidian eyes showing over that subtle barricade. Her underdress of Canton gauze, aérial, atmospheric, hugged her body close. “As the dew to the blossom, and as the blossom to the bee, so is woman to man, whose heart spans the four immensities in quest of spirit balm from the icy hearted,” quoth the poetical Michael tunefully in her own tongue. Lan, the icy hearted, pro- duced a quiver of her fan, as if the fringes (Continued on Page 90) - oe pnw -- —™ ee = _ ) } f

Page 89

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST so Sometimes the way to save money in a car—is to spend just a little more If you're considering what $1,000 or so will buy in a car, stop a moment and con- sider this: For perhaps $100 more on the down-payment, and possibly three additional payments you can have—a Reo Flying Cloud. And that? A car that hasn’t its price-tag stamped on it. A car that for performance and mechanical dependability rates definitely with cars in far higher price-brackets. You start saving money from the first down- payment, because Reos are built to give you outstanding first, second, and even third year service with no serious repair bills. Check up carefully on this Reo Flying Cloud and see how much more in looks and quality you get for such a little extra money. Now you can have a Reo Flying Cloud at a lower price than ever before. REO MOTOR CAR CO. + LANSING, MICH. a TE —_> ao i i ema ——— - ~ Reo Flying Clouds are priced at the factory as follows: 5-Passenger Sedans $1395, Sport $1495; Master $1745, Sport $1870; Car of the Month $1970, 2-Passenger Coupe $1375, Sport $1475. 2-4-Passenger Coupe $1395, Sport $1495: Master $1625. Sport $1750. 5-Passenger Brougham, Master $1595, Sport $1720. 4-Passenger Victoria, Master $1695, Sport $1820. Roadster, Master $1685, Sport $1810,

Page 90

PRIVATE ESTATE +-++ OR THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 4 ‘ Se PUBLIC PICNIC GROUND ? Soon America’s endless caravan of tourists will swing into the open road. A caravan greatly augment- ed in the past few years, due to America’s increasing wealth... Among these tourists — and pic- nickers too — aré many who have little consideration for other peo- ple’s property. Motorists who stop at will, wherever an attractive spot beckons — leaving in their wake a sorry sight . .. Nowonder that estate owners are deeply con- cerned about this situation. Refusing to tolerate it, many of them are now taking action —- protecting their grounds against thoughtless invasion and malicious trespass by Cyclone tifies the Cyclone . All chain link fence is not nameplate iden- installing Cyclone Fence ... A Cyclone Fence enclosure establish- es privacy, helps you maintain neat, attractive (Continued from Page 88) of an undersea flower streamed to the touch of a warm unseen current. Her blue-clad | legs were laid close together, kneeless, stiff as stilts, the feet planted steep as a toe dancer’s in tiny golden shoes. Michael O’Cain had the lids dropped ro- | guishly over his hair-trigger eyes. “Arad,” says he, catching sight of the captain of the Witch, “she’s prettier than the women of the flower boats, and a more understanding woman altogether. Sorry I was to be bringing on a war, with the one | movement of my arm, but now I glory in it, for keeping her out of the clutches of her | relatives, and they standing by to strangle | poor Silver Wing as soon as she stepped ashore on her poor feet. Man, ’twould bea | towering injustice to let her out of our | hands. Now there’s a lady friend of mine | at Macao would take her in, if you say the | word; and Michael O’Cain, being without a ship, and a confirmed Chinaman himself, would keep an eye on her between voyages for you.” “My good Michael,” Arad was thinking, “it will take more than typhoon bars and bogus tiger tracks to frighten you away from this Silver Wing of yours. You're too poetical by half.” And he thought of his responsibility to his friend Man Ho. “I’ve got a better proposition for you,” | he said to Michael. gone prevents de- struction of property and loss from | theft. Made of rust-resisting Cop- per-Bearing Steel and is all heavily galvanized by the famous Galv- After process. Erected with H- Coiumn Posts of tremendous strength and durability... Cyclone Fence, in wire or iron, is made in a variety of styles for es- tates, residences, schools, playgrounds, factories, prop- erty of all kinds . . . Now is the time to fence your property. Talk to a Cyclone represen- tative about it. . . This genuine Fence. yclone Fence REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. YT wm Bis S “\ee Paul PA. ne Binns - opin, Sis * ye = Sat Quali fi Cyclone Fence Company GENERAL OFFICES: GAN, ILL. BRANCH OFFICES IN ALL PRINCIPAL CITIES Pacific Coast Division: Standard Fence Co., Oakland, Calif. WAUKE =e L- ~ Aromete / Principal Subsidiary Ma Swerr awp Tew Prare ( Peperat Sree ann Wrae ( It Dist rit 4 Uwsrreo States Street Paovt Fxport Distributors: Unsiteo Sta UNITED STATES STEEL CORPORATION nufacturing Companies: wo AND Day Docx ( Co t, lInow & R.R. Co wivernsac Poartano Cement Co L Angeles, Portland, Seattl s res Steet Paopucts rk City “And what’s that?” , “Retake your ship, with the help of this fast crab of yours, and the guns of the Menelaus to back us up.” “Oh, the saints—the saints!”” Michael shouted. ‘“ More war, is it? And only last night didn’t I go ashore to the temple of the Silver Moon, with a bag of opium for the priests; and didn’t they smoke it in the shadow of the sacred tea trees? And then, with them all sleepylike and glassy-eyed, didn’t I pick up the old cold cannon ball off the floor, where it was causing all the trouble, and shove it back in the Josh’s fist, and him smiling down encouragement at me like my venerable elder brother. By the holy fire, I did, Arad. The ball of tran- quillity is back in his fist, and the war is ended by the same Michael O’Cain that began it; and now it’s yourself would be starting me out all over again in evil courses.” “The Witch is sinking,” Arad muttered. “I can feel her going down under my heels.” “Put her into the river under the man- darin’s bond and give Silver Wing into my keeping.” ; Captain Arad shook his head. “It’s not only Lan. It’s you I’ve got in mind, partly, Michael,” he said craftily. “Tf I don’t get you back your ship, you’ll end by being a Chinaman altogether, and having a pigtail of your own.” “Hi yah!” Michael roared. worse ornaments!” “Then again, there’s a mandarin or two in there hankering to send my head in a basket along with the others to the em- peror,” Arad recalled. “Did you never hear of the fight I had with them, three or four voyages back, when Molly Wilkins went ashore with me dressed as a cabin “There’s | boy, and they found out her sex by the lack of an Adam’s apple in her throat? I got away then by an eyelash, and since then, in peacetimes, I’ve been in the habit of send- ing the ship up the river in charge of the mate, and waiting for him at the opium hulks at Lin Tin. But now, with every- | thing in a heap, I can’t trust the mate to | do the job.” | | “So it’s a simplification of it to fight half a million Chinese,” Michael cried with a touch of malice. ‘Preach to ’em from the holy text of pike and gun. A man like you could find his way out of hell. But I’m not saying it wouldn’t be a pleasure to me to walk the deck of my little ship again. I'll bring the crab round when the tide turns.” At eleven o’clock by the marked joss sticks burning in her cabin, the fast crab left the Witch’s side with a convulsive movement of her sixty sweeps. She was May 25,1929 long and sharp, with a mat sail forward, and a swivel gun mounted on a platform heaped with scaling ladders, stones, stink- pots, fire arrows and bundles of boarding pikes. Arad had put a dozen of his own men here to sweeten the crab’s man power, though Michael had boasted that his own men could do the job alone. “They are the best fighting men in China. . . . And haven’t I built up the hearts in them, giving each mother’s son a present of the little buffalo-horn box at his hip, full of powdered tiger bones? I’ve taken a sniff myself,”” O’Cain confessed, “not to speak of having along a paper of ginseng, and that, they say, will bring a man to life again if a piece of it is slipped under the tongue of the corpse. But it’s not likely they'll make a fight, with every man thinking he’s the only patriot left in China, and even the admiral applying yes- terday for sick leave. And that was be- cause the old commissioner has just been haled in chains to Peking to answer the Ten Cunning Questions. There’s no people like them for the asking and answering of questions.” Four men pulled the butt of the steering oar to port to avoid a junk. They were close to the boom now. It lay across the Tiger’s Mouth like a giant glowworm. The bamboo rafts were alive with little men working by the light of torches, and a string of lan- terns as big as small balloons swayed over the guns of the Old Duck, to make a target for the Menelaus. The crab leaped forward, the pullers sinking back on the benches with a “Ya! Ya! Ya!” politely hissed. “The little devils are filling the junks with stones,” Michael muttered. “It’s well we've come. If they sink those junks, there’s the end of trade with Canton, and China altogether; for they’ll never raise them again.” There was Michael’s blood-red ship at the middle of the boom, her sails smeared with crimson characters, rails and rigging alive with soldiers in blue petticoats, with imitation tiger skins over their shoulders and bucket-shaped iron helmets on their heads. “Isn’t it all the military graduates in the kingdom crowded into her along with the tubs and bottles of gunpowder?”’ Michael O’Cain yelled, adding vaingloriously: “It’s just the more company for the long journey ahead of them. There’s no fight in them. Haven't I seen them at drill, these match- lock men, shutting their eyes and turning away their heads when they pulled the triggers of the guns? And their swords, poor souls, no better than hoop iron.” “Where's the rocket frame?” Arad cried. “T’ve got to touch off a rocket, as a signal to the Menelaus.” “ Here, put it in the shoot for fire arrows.” A blue-green hiss at their heels was fol- lowed by the flight of the rocket. Its one brilliant flash showed the hulls of that mot- ley throng of shipping swinging on the top of the tide. There was an answering flash from the Menelaus, then the dark again. “Hold your fan now, little Silver Wing, while China shows the dragon face,” Mi- chael muttered. Yellow men ran up and down, throwing boarding pikes in between the rowing benches. The crab bristled like a porcupine with yellow quills, and quaked to the full power of the oars. “They've got a gun shotted in the waist of your ship,” Arad said. “T see it plain,” said Michael. “‘’Tis not one of my own guns. Saints, it’s the Ora- tor. It’s a gun they cast themselves, but they cast it muzzle down, and the breech will be nothing but cheese, on account of the dross collecting there. Then again, there’s no motion to him, up, down or across. It’s an imitation of a screw gun of the British they found in the bay, with the screw corroded; so they’ve cast their screw and gun a'! in one piece, mind you, like the copy, and there’s no elevating the barrel of it at all. Man, dear, they’re thick as flies around it.” (Continued on Page 93) ET ee . ee RE IE aD

Page 91

he a — ~~ —— ind Cg a ear a ET SE LES THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A (Merchandising SERVICE Manufacturers can now direct the public... instantly... to the dealers who sell and service their products One of the great problems in merchandis- ing is to bridge the gap between the buyer who is interested in a specific product or service by advertising—and the places where these may be obtained. The Bell System now offers a solution to that problem. Bell System classified telephone direc- tories are the local business guides for 20,000 towns and cities. Dealers may now be listed under the names and trade marks of the articles and services they sell. It takes but a moment for the buyer to locate the most convenient one. The “Where to Buy It” feature thus saves prospects the necessity of search- ing from place to place, of accepting a substitute, or of doing without an article because of difficulty in locating dealers. This important merchandising factor— making it easy for the consumer to buy— “WHERE TO BUY IT” @) is of particular interest to the manufac- turers and dealers of advertised, trade marked merchandise. It is a guidepost to their products and services throughout the country . . . in con- stant, daily use in 14,500,000 homes and business establishments. Manufacturers are finding it especially effective in building strong retail repre- sentation. The listing of products and trade marks forms a dealer aid of unusual possibilities. The service is a valuable adjunct to advertising as it enables manufacturers to include in their advertisements a phrase referring readers to classified directories for the names of local dealers. The ‘Where to Buy It” feature is nation- metropolitan centers or rural trading areas, or in any desired group or classifi cation of cities. The Bell System has prepared a book let for manufacturers and dealers who want more complete information. Clip the coupon below and send it to the Business Office of your local Bell Com pany, or to the Trade Mark Service Manager, American Telephone and Tele graph Company, 195 Broadway, New York City. Trade Mark Service Manager AMERICAN TeLernone & Tececrarn ( 19s Broadway, New York, N. ¥ Please send me the booklet The Fina ng ex} ing the “Where to Buy It that this is lam a MANUFACTURER without cos DEALER eet On My business is wide in scope, yet local in application. It wa can be fitted accurately to distribution Nar requirements: national or sectional, in Address ~ a THE NEW SERVICE IN YOUR CLASSIFIED TELEPHONE DIRECTORY

Page 92

£2 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 | | THE NEW STRAIGHT EIGHT-125 Bs Nga of finished beauty. . . . powerful beyond every need... fleet as an arrow... sturdy... . individual .... complete in every detail. That’s the new Straight Eight-125. A joy to drive ....a supreme satisfaction to own. Now on display at Peerless showrooms everywhere. The Six-61, $1195 and up - The Six-81, $1595 and up - Wire wheels at slight extra cost. The Straight Eight-125, $2195 and up {All prices at factory} eee Peertess Motor Car CORPORATION rrrerrye CLEVELAND, OHIO

Page 93

' : ; | | | ree eee (Continued from Page 90) It looked, in fact, as if all China had col- lected at the Tiger’s Mouth. Wherever foot room could be found a petticoated soldier had been planted, armed to the eyes. Long odds, however, were the traders’ por- tion. Arad, with a pike in his hands, watched the Orator’s crew sponging and grooming him for his oration. “Let them fire first,” he said to Michael sharply, seeing that the swivel gun was being trained. “Everything shall be legal,’’ Michael agreed. “When we board, remember that the enemy has the word ‘Valor’ painted on the back in crimson. Hold, now, they’re making a prayer to the god of cannon. There goes the gilt paper. Now they’re at the touchhoie. By the powers, duck your head. The piece is fired!” And then the tiger’s mouth opened wide and showed his red gums, and swallowed everything—ships, soldiers, crew and all. Captain Arad, blinded, deafened, stunned by the stupendous report, had just the glint of a foolish thought that the Chinese after all were not such contemptible can- noneers as O’Cain had tried to make them out. That iron Demosthenes of theirs had evidently spoken to more purpose than just to spit the pebble out of his mouth. Arad’s trouser legs were whipped against his knees, his jacket blown over his head, in the same devil’s puff that heaved up the water under the crab’s keel. He couldn’t, for the mo- ment, think what to make of that stiff spout of yellow fire from the Unconquer- able’s entrails. Her bursting decks, falling masts, blazing ribs and shriveled sails were boosted high, as if punched out of the water vy a white-hot ram driven through the world from its underside—a thing that might happen to this flat world of the Ori- entals which was nothing but a thick cake of dirt, rocks, hills and trees, with the seas and rivers dripping down over the edges. Captain Arad Whitney opened his eyes with the vacant stare of the opium dreamer wakened from his dream. He was in his own berth aboard the Witch; and Michael O’Cain, seen through the brocatel hang- ings, was in the act of putting fire to his pipe. The black pigtail, loaned him by a pirate who had no further use for it, hung limp between his knees. “How fashion?” said Michael. “So fashion,” said Arad weakly. “It’s dead as the fish in the bay you were after that shot,” said Michael, “from some- thing hitting you back of the ear; and didn’t I fetch you back by slipping a bit of ginseng under your tongue? It’s taken three days and a little more, but here you are. You'll not be turning up your nose at Chinese remedies again.” “What—what blew the gaff?” Arad whispered. “Maybe the ball of tranquillity was jarred off the Josh’s knuckle again, bad cess to him for a big butter-fingers that had everything in his own hands and wouldn’t keep it there. Likely, though, it was nothing to do with the Josh at all, but the fault of the gun’s touchhole that was too big or too cheesy, and let the fire leak out into the powder tubs, and blow up the ship. The old Orator, that I was scorning, had just the needful etiquette to end the war; and now the boom is broken and the Menelaus inside and peace proposals going, and an iron helmet sitting on every star of heaven, glory be.” ““Where’s little Lan?” THE SATURDAY “She’s well,” Michael said shortly. “Stay, I hadn’t finished about the treaty. First, there’s a big indemnity to be paid by the Chinese for injured feelings, killed and spoiled men, and the like. Me being in- terpreter, I put in a word for Man Ho with the ‘rigate captain. ““There’s the old fellow,’ I says, ‘a sweeper in a temple, all along of one of your rascally red bristles running away with a costly cargo and not paying for it. Stipu- late for Man Ho’s return,’ I says; ‘a little matter is easy slipped in between big ones.’ So it’s been agreed for us barbarians to pay back enough out of the indemnity to liqui- date the old man’s debts and set him up in trade again.” “And Lan goes back to her father?” Arad asked. “Don’t be breaking the thread of the discourse. The joke is, the artful devils are glad enough to bring Man Ho back from Elee. It gives 'em a good story to tell the empersr. They’re sending a grand oration to him, telling him the foreign devils are beat to their knees, and crying for mercy, and disgorging the money they stole from the nice Chinese merchants. I tell you, my boy, the cream of Man Ho’s business will go to you after this. It’s a fortunate turn for everybody.” ““What have you done with Lan?” “Soft now. She's well. But let me tell you the last thing I was instrumental in slipping into the treaty—they depending on me on account of my elegant Chinese. ’Tis made and provided that from now on femaies of all foreign devils are to be let into the country, to help soften the natures of the red bristles and give them troubles of their own. Now, under this clause, I could easy set the little Silver Wing ashore, except for the one thing ———” “The one thing ——” “Stay now. Stay your hand, Arad. EVENING POST 93 Ready for a Drink? There was she alone in the world, and me the Solitary Nail—always saying the gin- | seng didn’t bring you back to life—and she | arguing for me to put her with the rest of my belongings, and me at my wit’s end | getting the Witch into dry dock here before | the coral fell out of her, and it hanging by a hair ——” “By gracious king, you've put her in your pocket after all!” Arad yelled. “*Tis more that the icy heart of her is melted, after what I did for her father,” Michael said modestly. “I wouldn't have you be putting her in a class with the old crackle, jars and vases, and the like, that the frigate captain had ruined in his cabin when he unlatched his guns at the Old Duck. She’s an understanding woman, and listens well to poetry. Well, any road,” says Michael, looking fierce, “I’m married to her, and she in Macao, and no tiger tracks will be any better security than Michale O’Cain’s shadow in the neighbor- hood of Silver Wing. "Tis the one benefit accruing to me out of a war I started and stopped with my own elbow; so now what have you to say to it?” “By the ball of tranquillity, nothing,” the trader said grimly. “‘She was beginning to weigh heavier on me than the specie in the held. And there’s no profiting by for- eign women, sO my owners say.” “Sits the wind there?”’ quoth Michael! with his pigtail in his mouth. “No profit- ing by foreign women? Then it’s a victory for the Chinese, because that’s been their contention all along. But it’s not Michael O’Cain will be letting them save face by an argument as weak as that.”

“You're welcome. And it’s the finest water in the world. I've been drinking it for 50 years. LEAR, cold water from an old- fashioned well looks mighty tempt- ing on a hot day. One might naturally think that if the owner of the well drinks the water it must be pure. But the fact that he has drunk the water without apparent harm does not prove that the water is pure. Science has discovered that a few in- dividuals have been able to drink water more or less polluted with typhoid germs without contracting typhoid fever. But it is never safe for anyone to take immunity for granted. Typhoid fever is a filth disease. It usually kills one out of every ten persons who have it. Until authorities responsible for the purity of —— water, milk and other foods in cities an towns learned how to guard against typhoid, outbreaks of this disease scourged the country year after year. There were no great typhoid scourges last year in the United States, yet approximately 65,000 persons were stricken needlessly with typhoid fever and 6,500 died. Those who recover from ty- phoid fever are left in such physical condition that for about three years after an attack the Y deathrate of such twice the normal rate for the Same ages. Why risk typhoid fever &- when it can be prevented? The story of inoculation which prevents typhoid fever is a 6 brilliant page in the history of = the many triumphs of science over disease. During the Spanish-American War, 281,000 of our men went into service. One out of every twelve contracted typhoid. In the World War there were 4,000,000 American soldiers, nearly all inoculated against ty- phoid. Although many of them METROPOLITAN LIFE I NEW Y ( ) persons 1s cn ~orw ; is “ Rt emargh BT :

1028 ML. 1. Co were sent to typhoid-infected areas, only one out of every 3,700 had typhoid. While typhoid fever frequently comes from drinking polluted water, it also comes from infected milk and various other contaminated foods, and from unsuspected “ typhoid-carriers” ~a few individuals who have recovered from the disease but who continue to cafry the germs. When typhoid-carriers are employed as helpers in households, hotels or restaurants there is great danger that they will cause infection among those they serve. Inoculations against typhoid fever are extremely simple and leave no scar. They protect from two to five years. Why take chances? Be prepared for your motor, camping and hiking trips this year. Go to your doctor 4 the protection he can give > * > > Wherever cities protect their supply of drinking water from sewage or purify their water by chlorination the deathrate from typhoid drops A marked reduction also takes ‘\ place in communities where milk } and food supplies are carefully } protected and food handlers ** thoroughly inspected. But un til this protection is general in cities, towns and villages and : in country districts as well, typhoid inoculation is vitally necessary : Inoculation against typhoid is < not the same as moculation which prevents diphtheria or e vaccination against smallpox All three are necessary health protections at home and espe- cially when travelling The Metropolitan will be glad to mail, without cost, its book- let, “ The Cc mnquest of Typhoid Fever, to anyone who requests it. Address Booklet Department, 69°E, Metropolitan Life In- surance Company, New York. NSURANCE COMPANY ‘ORK Biggest in the World, More Assets, More Policyholders, More Insurance in force, More new lnsurance each year

Page 94

04 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ae L P the roads of the Cape Cod Country, in the days of (Juincy Adams, the Yankee peddler came a-vending. With a rattle and thud, his pack was off, and, at your gate, was his traveling store. Pots and pans and needles, too, the New England housewife gladly bought; but only suspicion and a furtive glance for “this roll of silk from the Grand Mogul; this piece of lace King Louis wore.” “Johnny Hawker, spread your wares; don’t waste my time with those vain things.” To brown-eyed Priscilla, standing at the gate, beau- tiful things were sinister, indeed; but drabness was truly a virtue. Jo Wy Hawker. S endures.” No product has done more to answer this call of the modern home-maker than Duco. For in Duco, du Pont has given to industry, and through industry to you, a limitless array of color harmonies and a new measure of enduring beauty. Duco was first the finish for automobiles. To drab streets, as if by magic, it brought the gleam of a glorious variety of colors. More than 2200 Duco Authorized Refinishers are ready to re-style your car with modish Duco colors. But now Duco is the quality finish for hundreds of other articles for the home. Gone are Johnny Hawker and his travel- ing bazaar; gone, too, our rustic standards for judging right and wrong. “Give me use- ful things, give me serviceable things,” says the modern housewife; “but, with them, give me also style, color, and beauty that AUTO RE-FINISHING STATION Wherever you see this sign you can have your car refinished in Duco Duco for general household uses may be purchased from good dealers et ery- where . . . Duco for industrial applica- tion is obtainable from du Pont fac- tories ... Duco Household Cement now available for making and mending. read your Wales Wherever you see this 99 Stroll through the modern department store that has sprung from Johnny Hawker’s pack. See what Duco has done for the modern Priscilla. Furniture, refrigerators, washing machines, baby carriages, bird cages, pianos, electrical appliances— hundreds of other articles—are more colorful—will remain more colorful—through long months of serv- ice, because their manufacturers offer them to you ‘finished with du Pont Duco.” Whatever you buy that requires a finish, can be bought “finished with du Pont Duco;” but to be sure that the finish is Duco, ask if it’s made by du Pont and look for the oval du Pont seal. E. I. du Pont de Nemours & Co., Inc., Industrial Finishes Division, Parlin, N. J., Detroit, Mich., Chicago, Ill., San Francisco, Cal., Everett, Mass., or Flint Paint and seal you will know that the finish is Duco Varnish Limited, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. DUCO-—MADE ONLY BY DU PONT May 25,1929

Page 95

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE MILLION-POUND DEPOSIT “Blast you, shut up,” the despoiled man muttered. “‘You scored the odd trick. Now, what about it?”’ “‘Look here, guv’nor,” the safe breaker interposed, “I was told this weren’t no professional affair at all—just a friendly look through a chum’s love letters. There wasn’t a bean in the safe. I can answer for that. We’re copped, but there isn’t a bob’s worth of swag. What about a walk into the still night for yours truly?” “The suggestion,”” Dutley admitted, “‘is not unreasonable. Still, I shall ask you to wait just for a few minutes while I try to get to the bottom of this curious visitation. Who engaged you, Mr. Bill Sykes—if that should happen to be your name—to pay me this early morning call?” “Him,” the other replied, jerking his thumb toward the man at the desk. “ Fifty quid I’ve had, and fifty more I was to have. So far, the money’s worth the job. A child could have opened this with a tooth- pick. I could have done it myself with my thumb nail, and here I’ve lugged all these tools along.” “*My sympathies are entirely with you,” Dutley announced. “Presently, I hope that I may be in a position to offer you a little refreshment. In the meantime, pray pack up your outfit, unless you'd like to leave those delicate-looking files behind as a memento of your visit.”’ “You take this joker on, guv’nor,”’ the safe breaker begged, turning to his com- panion. “His lip gives me the stomach ache.” Dutley, always on his guard, also turned toward the man at the desk. “‘Our friend’s suggestion is excellent,” he agreed, “‘although I regret that I have failed to interest him. Perhaps, sir, you would be kind enough to tell me what you are doing copying my autograph, and for what purpose you have hired your com- panion to break into my safe. What are you searching for?” “A recipe for boot polish,’”’ the other sneered. Dutley reached out his hand toward the telephone instrument, which stood upon a bookcase, and placed it upon a smal! table, by the side of which he seated himself. His left hand played with the receiver; his right gripped always the butt of his re- volver. Those pale-blue eyes of his were ceaselessly and brilliantly alert. “*We have still an hour or so before dawn at our disposal,” he remarked. ‘You, I should imagine, are more pressed for time than I am. Listen, my friend at the desk, can’t we hurry things up? Dol! need to be more convincing? Let’s put it like this: You’re trapped. Your little scheme—what- ever it may be—is bust up. You will not leave this house with any article of my property in your possession. You have one faint chance of escape from the arms of the law, and that is to answer my questions intelligently and convincingly. I have a habit of recognizing the truth when | hear it. A single falsehood, and it’s the nearest police station on the phone. Now, listen, please: What the devil are you looking for?” “We are looking,”’ the man at the desk confided, “‘for the safe-custody receipt of a few hundred thousand one-pound ordinary shares in the firm of Boothroyd, Limited, the certificates for which, at the present moment, are deposited at the head office of Barclay’s Bank.” “You are singularly well informed,”’ Dut- ley acknowledged, “but you pique my curiosity still further. A safe-deposit re- ceipt for shares—even the shares them- selves—is not a negotiable security. Why, therefore, this risk?” “I am not sure,”’ the man at the desk argued, “‘that we are running any particu- lar risk. I guess we’re not here to steal anything. We’re not thieves.” “The devil you aren’t!’’ Dutley observed. “What are you then? Afternoon callers, (Continued from Page 43) dropped in for a late cup of tea—one of you, by the bye, with a gun in his boot, and the other with a complete set of safe- breaking implements? It won’t do, Mr. Hartley Wright. You may as well take that mask off. It must be very hot, and with a voice like yours it’s singularly in- effectual. Now, tell me exactly how much the Baron de Brest is paying you for this little job, and how you found your way in? You seem to be trying to spin things out. You haven’t much to gain by that, have you?” Even as the words passed his lips Dut- ley realized that for some reason or other that was precisely what his vis-a-vis was trying to do. All the time the man at the desk sat and spoke tensely. His usual briskness had left him. He had the air of a man listening, expecting. Dutley responded promptly to his instinct. He rose to his feet. and permitted himself a swift glance around the room. There was certainly no one else there, nor any place of conceal- ment. Could it be from outside that they were expecting help? In the street, that long, breathless silence before dawn reigned. Only one taxi had passed during the last few minutes. There was not even a footfall upon the pavement. Dutley reseated him- self in his chair, but while he listened to the other man’s speech, he listened, too, for other things. “You can call this a holdup, if you like,” Hartley Wright said. “Some sloppy job, I call it! No one wants your Boothroyd shares for keeps that I can see. What I’ve done is to write an order on your bank- ers to sell at opening hours tomorrow a hun- dred thousand of your shares at ruling prices, and to place the proceeds—do you get me, Dutley?—to the credit of your ac- count. It’s no good doing that unless we hand across the safe-custody-receipt for the shares at the same time. That's where my friend with the small black bag comes along.” “IT begin to see daylight,’’ Dutley con- fessed. ‘Still, while we're engaged upon this friendly conference, I should like you to tell me exactly what good it is going to do De Brest to have me sell, say, a hundred thousand shares of my stock at consider- ably less than their value.” “Say, you make me tired!’’ Mr. Hartley Wright exclaimed. “I don’t know how much of a mutt you are, but Boothroyd shares today are dirt. They can’t make the stuff any longer. There's a little pool of men who got in the know who've been selling the shares. I’m one of them. Per- haps we've been a bit too eager. It wouldn't have mattered, but some half-witted mug has given out a big buying order, and my friends have sold a few more shares, es- pecially abroad, than they can deliver. Have you got that?” “Even to my mediocre intelligence,” Dutley admitted, “‘ you have made the mat- ter clear.”’ “Then I guess we’re through,"’ Hartley Wright said. “Any objection to my stretch- ing my legs? A mouthful of fresh air wouldn't be too bad.” ‘just a moment,” Dutley begged. “‘Sup- posing you had succeeded in getting away from here tonight with the safe-deposit re- ceipt for my shares and my forged order to sell at ten o'clock, which I presume could not have been recalled, would it, by chance, be my friend the Baron Sigismund de Brest who is running your pool, and who would be relieved from an embarrassing position?” “Over on the other side,’ Mr. Hartley Wright said deliberately, “‘we don’t reckon it’s playing the game to give even our suck- ers away. No names, Dutley.” “Look here: Can’t you finish with this lip business? ’’ the otherman broke in. “I'm sick of sitting here listening to all this splother. Are we for the jug, or aren’t we? What’s your game, guv'nor?”’ “My game ” Dutley began.

And then he knew what Mr. Hartley Wright had been waiting and hoping for. The door behind him creaked as it was pushed open. There was the ghost of a footfall following. Dutley sprang to his feet, but no human effort would have been of any avail. A pair of strong arms were al- ready thrown around his neck from be- hind. His gun clattered to the ground. He was held as though in a vice. Hartley Wright rose to his feet with a cruel amile upon his lips. “We have stood enough of your sneering talk,” he jeered. “You're going to get something now which will keep you quiet for a time.” Dutley struggled fiercely, but the grip from behind was like a band of iron around his throat. The safe breaker, with a cold, ugly smile, was engaged in what seemed to be a deliberate attempt to break his right arm. Hartley Wright, with a wicked grin of triumph parting his lips, was hover- ing around with a heavy paper weight in his hand, seeking for the most vulnerable spot in which to deliver the decisive blow. Even to Dutley’s swooning consciousness the position seemed hopeless. And then suddenly — pandemonium! It was more than pandemonium. It was hysteria—the terror of men facing some- thing worse than death. They leaped away from him without coherent speech. Hart- ley Wright was making queer noises in his throat, crouching against the table, as though unable to support himself. The safe breaker was standing with his fingers pawing the empty air. The third man had sprung toward the window and was stag- gering there, clutching the curtain. The cry which had startled them al! rang through the house as Dutley had heard it upon the hot desert, himself crouched in ambush, his rifle sighted, knowing full well that nothing but chance was between him and fearsome sudden death. It rang down the broad stairway of the little house in Mayfair, gruesomely incongruous, shrill and terrify- ing at first, like the threatening of a scream- ing, demented being. It ended with a deep roar of passion, and the three men to whom that sound was a strange thing were para- lyzed and nerveless with fear of what might be at hand. Then Kassim, with his tribal battle cry still frothing upon his lips, leaped into the room, waving a wooden club above his head, like some savage animal into whom devils had entered. He brought with him a suggestion of hot sands and foul jungles, of desolate countries where the death of man meant no more than the crushing of an in- sect upon the pavement. There was a crash of glass as the safe breaker, nearly delirious, went through the window, fol lowed by his mate; a groan and a flop as Hartley Wright, sobbing through sheer agony of fear, rolled over on the ground, caught by the first fierce blow of that hideous-looking weapon. The cool wind streamed into the room through the broken window. They heard the flying footsteps in the street. Kassim snarled angrily. “White master hurt?” “NotI,” Dutley gasped, rapidly recover- ing. ‘Lord, how you scared them!” He staggered to his feet. There was a heavy tramping outside, the ringing of bells, a banging at the door. “The police, Kassim! Let them in,” his master ordered . “One moment!” He stooped down and committed the first theft of his life. XXX UTLEY, a personable figure in his well- cut, dark overcoat, the usual out-of- season bunch of violets in his buttonhole, bowler hat, a cane under his arm, and a general air of being at peace with the world, strolled into Bond Street just before one o’clock on the following afternoon with the idea of having a cocktail at the Embassy (Continued on Page 97)

95

ON’T let your strong pipe break upa poker game just when you're winning. Give Sir Walter Raleigh’s favorite smoking mixture a tryout. It’s milder — made from choice, mellow tobaccos whose fragrance is kept fresh by the heavy gold foil that lines the tin. . LIMITED OFFER 4 + (for the Unwed Scates only) . If your favorite tobacconist does not carry Sir Walter Raleigh, send us his name and address. In return for this courtesy, we ll be delighted to send you without charge a full-size tin of this milder pipe mixture. Dept. t1, Brown and Williamson Tobacco Corporation, Louisville, Kentucky

>

SIR WALTER RALEIGH Who discovered how good a pipe can be

milder

Page 96

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 BUT THERE IT STANDS! « “Stand an egg on end? Impos- sible!” But Columbus smiled, deftly brought the egg down on the table, crack- ing it ever so slightly at the bottom — and ¢here it stood. . . . But what woman is there who doesn’t know instinctively how thus to negotiate the im- possible. To take a dollar and make it do the work of two. To gather up the odds and ends in the re- frigerator and evolve a dinner that would do credit to the chef at the Ritz. To get three meals a day, wash the children and send them off to school, sweep, clean, mar- ket, cut out a party-dress for eleven-year-old Dorothy, bind up the cut on Johnny’s finger, put the baby to bed—and yet manage to remain fresh and cheerful when a tired husband comes home at night. . . . Impossible? No wonder a woman smiles a little to herself at that story of a mere Columbus and a mere egg. We try to keep pretty close, in our pages, to ~ the things that are really important to a ’ woman. Certainly suggestions for “negotiat- , ing the impossible” never come amiss . Perhaps that is one reason why there are some 2,400,000 women who read McCall's regularly. A MAGAZINE FOR WOMEN ts 7 ] | ] | . ta * -

Page 97

eS (Continued from Page 95) before keeping a luncheon engagement. Threading his way through a little crowd at the entrance, he came face to face with Lucille and her brother; They halted in- voluntarily. “How goes the family feud?" Dutley inquired, ignoring Lucille’s start and ob- vious embarrassment. ‘‘Am I allowed to wish you both a good morning and to com- ment upon the springlike quality in the air?” “Don’t be an ass, Charles,”’ Lucille en- joined. ‘‘There’s no family feud, so far as I’m concerned. What's all this about a burglary in your house last night?” “Tt is a long story. I could tell it to you better sitting down.” “What about a dry one, with a dash?” Ronnie suggested. “The idea appeals to me,”’ Dutley con- fessed. ‘‘I always find the atmosphere of a magistrate’s court depressing, although my presence there this morning was only a matter of form.” “We must hear about that,”’ Lucille in- sisted. ‘‘The papers are most intriguing. And what are you doing in London at all? We all thought that you were so bored with things that you were off on another ex- pedition or something.” “T had some idea of it,” Dutley ad- mitted, as they turned up the broad en- trance to the Embassy. ‘‘ London seems to me just now, though, to be equally full of adventure. Last night I strolled home at a perfectly reasonable hour—about three o’clock in the morning, I think it was—let myself in with my latchkey, and, because my locks are well oiled and I had those rubber things on the soles of my shoes, I marched into my study to find two total strangers making themselves at home there.” They descended the stairs. Dutley ig- nored the breathless interest of his two auditors, and waited until he had found a corner and ordered cocktails, before he con- tinued. “The whole affair,” he recounted, “up to a certain point was conducted in a very gentlemanly manner. The safe breaker, who had finished his job, was packing up ready to leave, and his companion, whose imitations of my signature were really won- derful, except that I understand now he was a professional, assured me almost patheti- cally that they had no wish to rob me. They required a very informal document connected with the deposit of some shares of mine in the bank, which appears to me, even now, to be of the slightest possible consequence, In the course of the proceed- ings, however, an associate of the safe breaker, who had been searching my room upstairs, arrived, and the atmosphere be- came less friendly. Here’s luck!” Dutley drank half his cocktail and nodded appreciatively to the watching bar- man. “You're a great artist, Alfred,” he ac- knowledged. “‘Let me see, where was 1?” “Did you recognize either of the bur- glars?”’ Ronnie asked eagerly. “Can’t say that I did exactly. One was an American, I feel sure, and I fancy that I should know him again if I saw him.” “What happened after the third man came?” Lucille demanded. “Well, as I was saying, the whole at- mosphere was changed. Suggestions of personal violence even were made, and, in short, it looked as though we were in for a real hullabaloo. Then there happened something which I would have given the world for you two to have seen. It was the most amazing sixty seconds I have ever spent in my life. . . . Alfred, another cock- tail.” “Oh, do go on,” Lucille begged im- patiently. “‘What happened?” “Kassim happened. Never did I dream, when that Abyssinian went down on his knees to me in the streets of Bagdad and I had to bring him home with me whether I wanted to or not, that he would have pro- vided me with those few seconds of un- diluted joy. It was like nothing on earth. THE SATURDAY Cinemas have attempted the same sort of thing, but in a milk-and-water kind of way.” He paused to light a cigarette, and Lu- cille shook his arm. “Don’t keep on stopping in that irritat- ing fashion,’’ she implored. ‘Go on at once, please.” “Well, in the midst of our slight argu- ments,” Dutley continued, shutting up his lighter with a click, “ came the most blood- curdling noise man has ever conceived— the battle cry of the Tangias, one of the Abys- sinian border tribes from which Kassim came. I can assure you that when he de- scended my stairs like a whirlwind, bellow- ing his terrible song, which they say no European has ever heard without a shiver, and waving his club, I don’t believe a regi- ment of Life Guards would have held their tanks for a moment. They would have done what my visitors did. Two of them went through the window, one after the other, and from the last I saw of them I should think they are still running. The third was too terrified to move, and Kas- sim caught him just a flick on the side of the head. He's lying in hospital now, and they say he’ll be lucky if he recovers con- sciousness in a week. Then, of course, the police arrived. There were notebooks and questions, searches for clews and all sorts of things.” “What about the two fellows who got away through the window?” Ronnie in- quired. “They made a clean bolt of it. Must have had a car waiting round the corner, I should think.” “Hasn't there been any arrest at all then?” Lucille asked. “ Well, they’ve got the poor chap Kassim flicked. Whether he'll ever appear in court or not depends upon the thickness of his skull.” “ Did the other two get away with what they were after?”’ Ronnie inquired anx- iously. “Not they, because it wasn’t there. I hired one of those vaults in a safe-deposit company the other day and shoved nearly all my important documents in there. Must have been a bit disappointing,” he wernt on. “They'd got the whole thing worked out jolly well. I've never seen any forged work before, but I take off my hat to that fellow. He left a letter on my table, to the bank, instructing them to sell my Bocthroyd’s, signed with my name, which I should never have hesitated about for a moment. Perfectly marvelous piece of. work! If that had been handed across the counter at ten o’clock this morning with the receipt for the shares inclosed, there'd have been a nasty glut of Boothroyd’s on the market by this time.” “T’m not so sure about that,” Ronnie rejoined. “That buying order of yours that the governor’s so crazy about is play- ing hell with the whole market.” “What's our price this morning?’’ Dut- ley asked. “Nominal sixty, but there are no deal- ings. There’s been a big bear of the shares, as you know, Charles—more abroad than here—and with this buying order out, no one can get the scrip. It’s going to give us all a bad time next week.” “Like to do me a favor, Ronnie?”’ Dut- ley asked, a little abruptly. “Why, of course.” “Go and take the air for five minutes. I don’t know when I shall have an oppor- tun'ty of talking to Lucille again, and I'd like to have just a word or two with her.” The young man rose reluctantly. “T can’t stay away very long,” he re- marked. “‘ We're lunching here presently.” He strolled out and Dutley turned to his companion. “Lucille,” he said, “I got your letter. That’s all right. We're not engaged any longer. Still, what was it all about?” She moved a little restlessly in her place. “Charles,” she admitted, “I do think that for a young man you waste your time terribly. You won't take an interest in your business, you go off on these silly ex- ped'tions which lead to nothing, and you do EVENING POST seem to me—you'll forgive me, won't you?— so helpless when anything of a crisis comes along like just now. Father said that you were simply terrible at the Booth- royd meeting. You're a very amusing com- panion for an hour, or even a little longer, but amusement isn't everything. You won't take life seriously. That’s the whole trou- ble. I like someone who's in touch with things that count. . . . You're a great dear, Charles, and I shall always be very fond of you, but that’s all.” Dutley tapped a cigarette deliberately upon the table and lit it. “Lucille, my dear,” he said, “I have al- ready accepted my dismissal. I do honestly believe that it is for the best. Wipe that off the map, but you've got to listen to me for a moment, even if it makes you angry.” “Well?” “Don’t marry Sigismund de Brest.” “What makes you think I should be likely to?”’ she asked, a little evasively. “That doesn’t matter. I know that for some mysterious reason he appeals to you. I've watched you together the few times we've met. He has introduced you to his relatives. He has interested you in his schemes. You are probably lunching with him today.” “Tam,” she admitted defiantly. Those blue eyes of Dutley’s wandered away. He spoke very gently, but there was a certain force underneath his words. “I don’t criticize people often,” he said. “It’s very seldom I have anything to say against anyone who's not present. I don't like De Brest, and I think that if you marry him you will regret it for the rest of your life.” “That's just prejudice,” she declared. “It may be,” he answered, as he rose to make his adieu, “but I know a bit too.” He picked up the few inches of exquisite cambric with which she had been toying, and held it to his nostrils. “Wonderful perfume,” he meditated. “Reminds me of a Persian rose garden when those other long, yellow flowers are out. You have the sachets, too, haven't you?” “You ought to know,” she replied, smil- ing at him with uplifted eyebrows. “You have told me plenty of times how much you liked it.” “Its one drawback, I should say,” he observed, as he rose to his feet, “is that you can’t get rid of it. Bad sort of perfume for a conspirator. I could tell that you had been in a room, for instance, for hours afterward. Reminds one, you know, of that play Diplomacy.” She looked at him fixedly. you mean?” she demanded. His eyes wandered to the doorway, where Ronnie and his host were standing. “Don't let that fellow De Brest make use of you to do his dirty work for him,” Dutley begged as he turned away. “What do Dutley summoned a taxi and was driven to a large and popular grill room in the center of London. Inspector Bridgeman, who, in mufti, was a very harmless-looking person indeed, rose from a seat in the en- trance hall to greet him. “Haven't kept you waiting, I hope?” Dutley asked. “Barely a minute,” the other assured him. A vestiaire relieved them of their coats and hats. A maitre d’hdtel found them a quiet table in a corner. “It’s very kind of you to see me like this,” the inspector acknowledged, after luncheon had been ordered. “ You see, I was out of luck last night, or I should have been called round to Curley Street.” Dutley smiled. ‘I’m just as well pleased that you weren't.” The inspector tapped the tablecloth im- patiently with his finger. “We ought to be working together, Lord Dutley,” he regretted. “Haven't you had any luck?” Dutley asked blandly. “The only discovery I’ve made during the last few weeks,” the inspector confided, “is that you’re rather a dark horse.” 97 “Can't keep anything from the police,” Dutley sighed. The inspector leaned across the table, and his voice, although it was low, was very stern. “You're keeping something already from me pretty effectually,” he complained. “From the things which happen to you, I’m sure you're in closer touch with the criminals than I am.” Dutley looked a little vague. “I had one great stroke of luck,”’ he admitted. “I'd share it with you at once if we could come to some sort of an arrangement. I should look upon it as a form of life insurance.” “What sort of an arrangement?” the inspector demanded. “If you could give me an undertaking that you wouldn't make a definite arrest until you could have your hand upon the formula.” “That's just what I can't do,” Bridge man lamented. “You must realize that, Lord Dutley. There is one crime,”’ he went on, his tone for a moment very serious indeed, ‘“‘which stands apart from all the others. I tell you frankly that I wouldn't willingly risk my life to arrest a forger or the greatest swindler in the world, but there isn’t one of us in the Yard who wouldn't look death in the face any moment to bring in a murderer.” “Well, there you are, you see— up against it,” Dutley pointed out. “You'd let my jolly old business go to pot and see me starve in the street just on a matter of prin- ciple. I'll be quite frank with you, in- spector. I won't tell you a thing until I’ve got the formula. When i've got that, i'll show you the man who murdered poor old Rentoul, if he’s still alive.” “Was he in last night's job?" the in- spector asked. “He was indirectly connected with it. He wasn't in it,” Dutley confided. “I haven't seen him, as a matter of fact, for several days. The air seems to me a good deal healthier when I don't.” “You would be willing te admit then, Lord Dutley,” the inspector asked, after a brief pause, “that there was a certain con- nection between the burglary in Curley Street last night and the burglary up at your works four months ago?” Dutley considered the matter. way, I suppose there was.” “And one of the same persone was con- cerned in it?” the inspector asked like a flash. Dutley nodded. “Very clever—very clever indeed,” he murmured. “If you'd told me this was going to be a sort of third or fourth degree luncheon, I wouldn't have had that second cocktail.” “Don't think that, Lord Dutley,” the inspector begged. “I’ve got my job to do, but I want to do it decently. We aren't interested in the safe breaker and his friend who got away. I think we could lay our hands upon them at any time if we tried. The American I should like to know a little more about. Seems queer that he hadn't a cardcase or anything. His clothes were bought ready-made at a shop in the Strand, and his linen is unmarked. They told me at the hospital this morning that he'd very likely go out without regaining conscious- ness.” “Well, after all,”” Dutley reflected, “a man doesn't carry his cardcase with him when he commits a burglary.” “Quite so,”’ the inspector agreed, “and yet most men, at al! times, according to my experience, carry pocketbooks. Theremight have been an item of interest to us inside I should very much like to have found some “In a hint as to the man’s occupation, the method of his daily life—better still, his address. You'll remember, won't you, Lord Dutley. that if he should peg out, it remains very much with us what happens to that wild black man of yours?” Dutley was silent for a moment. Then he thrust his hand into his pocket and pro- duced a worn morocco case with tarnished metal edges. (Continued on Page 100)

Page 98

YS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 Sentinels of Science guard Mueller quality No commonplace inspection suffices to maintain the quality of MUELLER FAUCETS AND FITTINGS. The entire production is under strict laboratory control. At each important point in the manufacturing process, “Sentinels of Science’ are on guard—to insure the faultless service for which the name MUELLER slands—to protect you from the annoyance, inconvenience and expense of PARALYZED PLUMBING. aa nm} —a ~ ~~ tac ener

Page 99

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 99 | Toavoid Paralyzed Plumbing —— ———— ge ~ ——- do this simple thing NLY a quarter century ago“paralyzed plumbing,” with its annoyance and inconvenience, was always “just around the corner.” The art of making faucets and fittings was then undeveloped. And build- ers had no choice. Today the making of faucets and fit- tings, practiced by such specialists as Mueller of Decatur, is almost a fine art. Builders, too, are both wise and watch- ful. They know that poorly designed and cheaply made faucets and fittings, which quickly corrode, wear and distort. . . and paralyze the water service . . . can make even the most lavishly equipped bath- room, kitchen or laundry as useless as a fine motor car with a disabled engine. So, experienced builders, when consider- ing the plumbing system, keep this simple rule before them: “Be sensible to beautiful furnish- ings but don’t be blinded. Remember that the first essential in any kitchen, bathroom or laundry is reliable water service. Insure this service first—-by insisting upon genuine Mueller Bronze Faucets and Fittings at all vital spots. Then you can equip, furnish and decorate as elaborately as you de- sire. For you will be assured that ‘Paralyzed Plumbing’ will never rob you of comfort and convenience.” Orper A HeattuH EXAMINATION or Your PLuMBING If your water service shows signs of being “‘out- of-sorts,”” call the doctor, your local Master Plumber. If he finds corrosion-infected, worn or distorted faucets and fittings, have them removed and replaced by Mueller Bronze at once. Repair- ing a cheap, shoddy fitting merely defers the inevitable replacement and adds to your expense. i, Insist upon genuine MUELLER BRONZE FAUCETS in the beginning Mueller Bronze Faucets and Fittings are scientifically designed. Manufactured to highest precision standards under strict laboratory control. Made of bronze, which defies the attacks of time, and insures trouble-free service for many years longer than the life of the average building. Yet Mueller Bronze Faucets and Fittings cost only slightly more than the “shoddy” kind, that lead inevitably to Paralyzed Plumbing. Your plumbing contractor knows and can get genuine Mueller Faucets and Fittings from a nearby jobber. Every genuine piece carries the name M-u-e-|-l-e-r stamped into the metal. MUELLER CoMPANY MveE ter, LIMITED Decatur, Illinois Sarnia, Canada BraNCHEs: New York, Dallas, San Francisco, Les singeles Manufacturers of Bronze faucets and Jaucet specialties for homes, apart- ments and large buildings, factories and laboratories—3roenze valves and fillings for the entire supply system, including pop-up drains, combined drains and overflows, su ply pipes and stops, lavatory and bath traps, ferrules, et Reducing and regu- lating valves for water, steam, air, gas and oil Mulomatic systems of hot water heat control Leading waterworks and gas com- panies have standardized on Mueller for years BRONZE FAUCETS & FITTINGS fy V di TR E a f } A ad be O

Page 100

ROW OF LEAKS anyone can say roof coating but those who know. say Rutland” Asphalt, asbestos and a slow-dry- ing oil are the ingredients in Rutland No-Tar-In Roof Coating. Not a drop of tar in it. The oil soon evaporates, leaving a tough mineral coating of asphalt bound together with asbestos fibre — thoroughly, lastingly waterproof. Instead of patching your roof, coat the entire surface with Rut- land, making the roof good for years. It costs little, saves the ex- pense of a new roof, of frequent repairs and leak damage. As easy to apply as paint. For every kind of roof except shingles. Ask for Rudand Roof Coating (liquid or paste) at your hard- ware or paint store. If he hasn’t it, write us. “How to Renew Old Roofs”—Free Mail coupon for folder giving complete information for renew- ing life of old roofs. Rutland Fire Clay Company, Established 1883, Rutland, Ver- mont. Also makers of Rutland Patching Plaster. RUTLAND ASPHALT 6& ASBESTOS ROOF COATING RUTLAND FIRE CLAY CO Dept. B-34, Retland, Vermont Mail your free folder, with aame of nearest Rutiond deater. Name : - Address Cite | ever. THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 97) “You win, inspector,” he acknowledged. “Mr. Hartley Wright, his name is. You'll find a little more about him in there.” The inspector scrutinized the contents of the pocketbook with interest. “You'll excuse my keeping this,”’ he said, carefully disposing of it. “Certainly, inspector,” Dutley agreed, smiling. “I’ve had all I wanted from it.” The inspector leaned across the table. One saw something of the man in that moment. His jaw seemed to protrude. “Hartley Wright was one of the five Marlingthorpe burglars,” he said in a low | but very firm tone. “There’s no keeping things from you, | inspector,” Dutley sighed. “‘He’s not the worst, of the gang, but he was in it all right. There’s just one thing,’’ Dutley con- cluded with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. “I don’t mind your knowing so much, because I’ve been up to the hospital myself this morning, and even if the fellow lives, there isn’t the faintest chance of his recovering consciousness for a week. Very tantalizing for you, I know, but still, there it is.’ “Then I gather,” the inspector deduced, eying his companion snrewdly, ‘“ that some- thing is likely to happen before that week is up.” Dutley’s smile developed. “I'm getting very warm, inspector,”’ he confided. XXX HE three men were seated in what De Brest liked to call the board room of his bank, in a narrow passage off Lombard Street. The smooth mahogany table was adorned with writing pads and inkstands. The high-backed chairs were of black oak, and of Dutch design. De Brest, attired with his usual meticu- lous care, sat at the head of the table. He wore a carnation in his buttonhole, his tie and linen were irreproachable. His short black coat was the best that Savile Row could turn out. His hair was smoothly brushed, his finger nails newly manicured. He affected a light-heartedness which he was very far from feeling. On his right hand sat Thomas Ryde; on his left, Hise- dale. “We seem to be the survivors,” he re- marked, with an attempt at jocularity. “Has anyone heard news of Hartley Wright?” “The report from the hospital this morn- ing was that he was still unconscious,” Thomas Ryde volunteered. “What about his belongings?” “We did our best on the first day,” was the measured reply. ‘His landlady called for these, but they had been removed by the police. It is up to any one of us who wishes to qualify in a course for imbecility to pursue his inquiries at Scotland Yard.” There was a dead silence. “That means that we are two portions of the receipt short,” Hisedale observed gloomily, “‘and Glenalton’s are preparing for us on Wednesday.” “It seems to me,” De Brest meditated, “that someone will have to go down and interview Sir Matthew, if it is true, as they tell us at the hotel, that he has gone to Leeds.” “And the same person,” Thomas Ryde sneered, ‘‘might call in at Scotland Yard and ask for Hartley Wright's pocketbook.” “It was your scheme—this tearing up the receipt,” Hisedale pointed out, from across the table. “it was my scheme,”” Thomas Ryde ad- | mitted, “but in our progress through life | we have to be governed by the law of proba- _ bilities. There was nothing to tell us that, presumably on the instigaticn of our friend De Brest, Hartley Wright was going to embark upon a mad and burglarious scheme in the course of which he would be half killed, or that Sir Matthew Parkinson would develop lunatic tendencies. I admit that the present situation is distressing. We must see what we can do with it how- In the meantime, have you each | your fragment of the receipt with you?” EVENING POST Both men signified assent. Neither, however, produced his pocketbook. Thomas Ryde set the example. From a worn mo- rocco case he drew out two crumpled slips, and from another compartment of the same pocketbook, he produced a stiff strip of parchment. “I took the opportunity,” he explained, “of calling upon our friend Mr. Hogg the other day. I put it to him that one of us had met with an accident, and that there was a possibility of his portion of the receipt not being forthcoming next week when we required our document. I am sorry to have to report that his attitude was unsympathetic.” ““What did he say?"’ De Brest demanded. “He pointed out that five of us had brought the document, and that his re- sponsibility was equally divided between the five. He pointed out, too, that the idea had been ours, not his, and he declined to assume the responsibility of parting with the key for anything less than the whole receipt. His position was logical enough, and I could not deny it.” ““What have you got there?” Hisedale asked, indicating the paper which Thomas Ryde had spread out in front of him. “This,” the latter confided, “‘is a com- plete receipt form. I took the opportunity of pocketing it while Mr. Hogg was out of the room for a moment. If you two felt disposed to reciprocate the confidence which I have already demonstrated, we might, I thought, arrange our fragments on the back of this strip, and see exactly what is missing.” Both men produced their pocketbooks. With careful, laborious fingers, Thomas Ryde fitted the fragments together as far as he was able, and cut up the receipt form. It was a sorry business, however, for two of the three fragments had evidently been taken from different parts, and their crum- pled appearance compared ill with the rest of the receipt form. “T doubt whether we shall ever be able to do anything in this way,” he confessed. “On the other hand, we must think of something. We have no reason to suppose tuat Hartley Wright’s fragment is per- manently unattainable, but Sir Matthew I fear that we have treated with a certain lack of tact. He may be obstinate. In the meantime,” he went on, his fingers passing lightly over his chin, “‘I have a suggestion to make. I am in possession of two frag- ments of the receipt—my own and Huney- bell’s. Give me yours, and I will make myself responsible, as far as anyone can, for framing up the whole document, either by procuring their portions from our two missing friends, or by dealing with this other form.” Doctor Hisedale looked across at De Brest, and De Brest returned the gaze stealthily. Thomas Ryde had apparently no manner of misgiving as to what their reply would be, for he was already opening out a compartment of his pocketbook. “Is it not a little like putting all our eggs in one basket, Ryde?” Hisedale ventured. “We haven’t seemed to do particularly well separately so far,’’ was the brief re- tort. ‘‘It’s only four months, and two of the fragments are missing already. Anything committed to my care is safe. I do not run risks. That is not my way in life.” They handed over their strips of paper. Thomas Ryde fitted them onto the back of the receipt and sketched in roughly once more the probable shape of the missing two. “T am afraid,” he warned them, “that we shall find our friend Mr. Hogg a little exacting, perhaps a little difficult. I noticed that he had a range of magnifying glasses ° upon his table which he admitted were for the purpose of identifying any doubtful receipts. I may succeed in getting the originals however. I have already a scheme in my mind.” “Well, we shall trust in you,” De Brest declared, with a sigh. ‘So far, you have been the brains of our enterprise.” “The controlling brains,” Thomas Ryde admitted, “but not the financial brains. There we have to turn to you, De Brest. May 25,1929 I was sorry rather to force this meeting upon you, but you must have a very con- siderable amount of money upon our ac- count in hand, and I thought that we should have a statement of account from you, with a check. Five thousand pounds each, I think it was, Hartley Wright, Hise- dale and I agreed to adventure on our bear account against Boothroyd’s. The shares were eighty when you commenced operations. Tonight I see that they are fifty-seven. A very nice little profit for each one of us. Perhaps it would be as well now to close the account for the present.” De Brest fingered his tie nervously. “*T must tell you both confidentially,”’ he said, “that a very embarrassing and diffi- cult situation has arisen with regard to our account. It does not affect either of you anything like it does me, because whereas you have entered upon a very mild specu- lation, I, knowing what we know, with larger means and resources, went for a big coup. I found some difficulty in dealing on this market after the first few days’ trans- actions, so I opened up negotiations et every foreign bourse where Boothroyd’s are quoted. Everything went on quite right, and the fall in prices represents a very large profit, but a situation has arisen which I have never before encountered.” “You're not going to tell us that you’re short?”’ Thomas Ryde asked coldly. “For the moment, I am, and therefore I cannot realize,"’ De Brest admitted. “‘I did a good deal through a firm of stockjobbers in Amsterdam, in which I am a partner, and in whose responsibilities I share. I am getting frantic telegrams from them every hour. What we are up against, though, is nothing more nor less than a conspiracy. Whoever is working it must lose money, and a great deal of money, but there you are—there are buying orders out for Booth- royd’s placed with five or six different houses, all pledged to secrecy with regard to the name of their client, but all supplied with cash, and all demanding delivery of the shares.” Thomas Ryde took off his spectacles and wiped them carefully. “This sounds to me a very pitiful tale, baron,” he pronounced. “Both Doctor Hisedale and I looked upon you as a man of affairs—a banker, and one who knew the money market. I cannot understand your placing yourself in such a position. In fact, to tell you the truth, I did not know that it was possible.” “It would not be possible in this country alone,” De Brest explained. “It is my connection with the firm of Jansen & De Brest in Amsterdam which has done the mischief. Then, in an ordinary way, an unlimited buying order like this would have made all the jobbers shy. The whole busi- ness was kept so ridiculously secret, how- ever, that no one seems to have realized what was happening. You see, after all, Boothroyd’s are a narrow market. There should be another five hundred thousand pounds’ worth of shares floating about. Dutley’s got them all locked up. He has not parted with a share. He will not part with any. Our bear account was nothing tremendous, but it came up against an ab- surd scarcity of the shares.” “TI do not understand this business very well,” Hisedale admitted, “but I should like some money. You commenced to sell shares for us at seventy-eight. They are now fifty-seven, and there have already been two settlements. There should be a great deal of money for us.” They both ignored him. There was a very wicked gleam, indeed, in Thomas Ryde’s eyes, and Sigismund de- Brest’s hands were shaking as he restlessly moved some papers. “T suppose it has never occurred to you, baron,” Ryde suggested, with a bitter, underlying sarcasm in his tone, “that the man who has given out this buying order for shares, and so completely outwitted you, is probably the young man whom you have always termed such a nincompoop— Lord Dutley himself?” (Continued on Page 102)

Page 101

at neo THE SATURDAY EVENING POST TEP into any Goodyear Dealer’s and ask to see the new Pathfinder tire. Examine it carefully. Note its weight, its massiveness, its thick tough body and handsome deep-cut tread. There is a tread designed for traction— wide and generously thick, for slow, even wear. On the strength of what you see, you would probably buy this Pathfinder. You can see for yourself that it is a great tire—one that Goodyear is P j N OVwGimTrTeoe rT + = The New Goodyear PATHFINDER proud to mark with its name and seal. When you buy it, you get far more than you see on the surface. It is even a greater tire than it appears. The materials in this tread are tough- ened by time-tested Goodyear methods, insuring great durability and resistance to wear. The carcass is made of Supertwist—that remarkable cord material which resists fatigue with unmatched vitality. AME Copyright 1929, by The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co E These are facts about quality which make the low-price stand out in forceful con- trast. You certainly cannot class this great Pathfinder with “second-liners’’ — for all its low price, it ranks in quality with many high-priced tires built by other manufacturers. Just try it—and your home-town Good- year Dealer’s service. See what it means to drive a tire that is a genuine Good- year through and through. iN RUBBER n - iad ; 101

Page 102

102 Would You Spend 35 to Save *100? Read this Guarantee! “If Koverflor, when applied accord- ing to directions on a surface in a fit condition to receive it, does not out- wea, any floor paint or varnish used under the same conditions, we will give vou an amount of Koverflor equal to your original purchase.” UNRETOUCHED PHOTD MICROGRAPHS Ordinary fleer Keverflor. Note paint. Note imper» flawless super- /ectrons amd flaws. sealed surface. Cot ae will admit it-—the con- stant refinishing of floors in kitchens, porches, halls and stairs —so necessary with old-fashioned floor paints and varnishes—is dis- couragingly expensive. Yet today for less than $5.00 any- one can easily save at least $100 by properly protecting and renew- ing the life of their floors. Impossible? Not a bit of it. For this amazing liquid covering actu- ally super-seals the surface against ordinary destructive forces. Keverflor comes im colors, as well as Clear: lvory, Orange. Cream, Spruce, Tile Red, Dutch Biue, Lino- leum Brown, Mahogany, Green, Grey. Light Grey. Russet, Black and White Folder upon request STANDARD New York, #43 Foerth Avenue — London THE SATURDAY This Super-Sealed Surface Costs 2 cents a foot—stops floor wear instantly Costs less than 2 cents a square foot. Flows on easily with an ordi- nary paint brush. Dries overnight into a non-slippery surface so tough and durable that floor wear stops instantly. Makes any floor of wood, cement or linoleum, either indoors or out, waterproof, greaseproof, and practically wearproof. No wonder Koverflor doubles the life of linoleum, banishes ugly worn spots and even makes cellars, sun rooms and garages dustless, easy to clean as glass. No wonder thou- sands now use it for innumerable purposes in addition to floor cov- ering. For Koverflor brings new beauty, new cleanliness and new protection at a remarkably low cost. Now...try it yourself in your home, office, store or factory. But remem- ber there is no Koverflor substitute. lf your dealer can't supply you, we will send, pest- paid, a quart at $1.40, a pint at 75c or a balf-pint at 40 (Pacific Coast points: quart $1.60; pint 90c; half-pint SOc}. State color Write nearest office. | VARNISH WORKS! Chicago, 2600 Federal Street — Gothenburg Los Angeles, 1/6 East Jefferson Street ~ Berlin | them upon the market. | have failed, and in sacrificing Hartley | understand. EVENING POST (Continued from Page 100) “T have convinced myself of that within the last few hours,” De Brest admitted. “Everything that a man could do, I have done. I have even tried to buy a quantity of Lord Dutley’s holdings at a price far above the m figure, meaning to bear the loss myself. He has refused to deal with me.” “You have also,” Thomas Ryde con- tinued, “without consulting us, made a clumsy and ill-cone=:ved attempt to pos- yourself of his share certificates, and by means of a forged order to the bank, get Here again you Wright you have possibly placed us all in a very dangerous position.” “T was driven to do what I did!”’ De Brest exclaimed, with a little burst of pas- sion. ‘You men who are nobodies don’t I am a banker of European repute. I have a great position to keep up. I simply dare not let the world of finance know that I have been caught short of shares like this. Credit is the breath of life to a banker. I call myself today a million- aire, but heaven knows where I shall be if this affair gets about.” “How do you propose to keep it se- cret?”’ Tom Ryde asked. ‘Settlement day is close at hand, and it appears to me that you will be unable to fulfill your obliga- tions. We never thought very highly of you as an associate, baron, but we did trust you financially. You have deceived us, and not many men have done that, so far as I am concerned. I never helda very exalted opinion of the order of your brains, | but I thought that at least you were cun- ning enough to carfy out the ordinary day-by-day financial operations of your following. I see that I was wrong. You are a fool.” De Brest seemed somehow to have wilted. He buried his face in his hands. “I am a fool!” he confessed. “T have a thing to say,”” Hisedale inter- vened. “Even if we have not made money, I parted with a thousand pounds for cover which has never been required. We are in the bank. I will take that away with me.” “There ought to be a profit due to me,” Thomas Ryde said coolly, “of a great deal more than that. I, however, will take a thousand pounds to be going on with.” De Brest looked out over the glass- topped window into the bank. There were a dozen clerks behind the desk and one or two customers at the counter. He glanced nervously at the clock. It was three min- utes to four. Turning back, he touched a button upon his table. A clerk almost im- mediately presented himself. “Bring me a check form on my private account,” De Brest directed. The man withdrew. “You know, after all,”” De Brest went on, leaning back in his chair, “‘I think perhaps we have got the wind up too much about settlement day. We are really not very short for the English market, and we have a dozen people on the lookout for shares for us. We may get a parcel tumbling in at any moment. You shall have the profits on the | English market if we make them, both of you. Our trouble is abroad. I cannot ex- plain. It is too complicated, but if there is any loss there I shall bear it myself.” “Our profits on the English market will be enough for us,” Thomas Ryde said pointedly. The clerk reappeared with a blank check form, to which was pinned a little written slip. De Brest glanced at it and tore it up. He spread the check form on the table be- fore him. His hand was trembling so that the ink with which he filled his pen dropped on the tablecloth. He wrote the date on the check and paused. The telephone by his side rang. He took off the receiver and listened, indulging in a few monosyllables. “Boothroyd’s closed at fifty-eight,”” he announced as he discarded the instrument. A clock close at hand struck four times— a sound for which he had been waiting anx- iously. He affected not to notice, and filled out the check for two thousand pounds, May 25,1929 turned it over and indorsed it. Then he touched the bell again. “Notes for this,”’ he told the clerk, handing it across. The man looked grave. ‘“‘Very sorry, sir,” he said. ‘Mr. Petersen has just closed up the safes. It’s nearly five minutes past four.” De Brest took out his watch hastily. “TI had no idea it was so late,”’ he ex- claimed. “I am very sorry, Mr. Ryde. It is against the English banking law for us to pay out money after closing hours, and they are very severe on us foreigners. Would ten o’clock tomorrow morning do?”’ Ryde pointed to the clerk. “‘Send him away for a moment, please,” he demanded. The man obeyed De Brest’s gesture, and closed the door behind him. Thomas Ryde’s voice seemed to have become quieter than ever. “De Brest,” he said, “I mistrust you. I have always mistrusted you. The mis- take of my life was to come into this affair with such men as you. However, I am in, and I must pay for my mistake. I am going to have that thousand pounds, though. So is Doctor Hisedale.” De Brest laughed, noisily but uneasily. “But, my dear friends,” he protested, “what is a matter of a thousand pounds? Surely tomorrow morning will do.” “Tam beginning to think that a matter of a thousand pounds is a matter of a good deal to you,” Thomas Ryde rejoined slowly. “Baron, we ought to have shared at least a hundred thousand pounds, and it is entirely your fault that Sir Matthew has broken away from us and that we've lost Hartley Wright. I shall run the rest of this business as a one-man show. I shall possess myself of the formula within the next few days, and I shall conclude the negotiations with Glenalton’s on Wednes- day. The million pounds I receive from them will be divided between the five of us, if Hartley Wright is still alive, and between the four of us if he is dead, but from your share I shall deduct the amount which we have lost through your idiotic manipulation of our financial scheme. Is that clearly understood ?”’ “No,” De Brest protested frantically. “You took your risks with me. The market went against us.” “Baron De Brest,”” Thomas Ryde said, “you get what I have offered you, what I have told you that you will get, or you get a little less than nothing. You can guess what I mean. I do not argue. You know now what is coming to you. You take your choice. From now on, everything is out of your hands. If you make any move it will be reported to me. There is one sort of move,” he concluded, with a queer little drop in his voice, “which, if you make, will end all your troubles.” They left him at that. He listened to their departing footsteps, leaning back in his chair at the head of the long table. From the interior of the bank, on the other side of the glass partition, came the sound of slamming of books, cheerful voices pro- claiming the end of the day’s work. Busi- ness with the house of De Brest was not good, and there was no need to stay over- time. The telephone at his elbow tinkled. It was Lucille’s drawling voice speaking: “Still at work?” He made a great effort. “Still at work, and hard at it,”’ he replied briskly. “‘We have a conference here about the exchanges. Our friends from Paris are a little difficult.” “TI won’t keep you,” Lucille promised. “‘T just rang up to remind you about some- thing. Can you guess what?”’ “Not for the moment.” “To call at Cartier’s. I hated doing it, and Charles guessed. I'll tell you about that later. I suppose I shall forget it as soon as I’ve seen the necklace. Au revoir!” “As soon as you’ve seen the necklace. Au revoir,”” De Brest echoed mechanically. XXXIV ROM the foggy gloom of the December afternoon, her abrupt entrance into his cozily lit library seemed something unreal, (Continued on Page 104)

Page 103

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 103 Surpassing Previous Records

FIVE CHASSIS—SIXES AND EIGHTS $895 to $2495 Car illustrated is Model 621, six cylinder, four passenger Coupe, with Four Speeds Forward, $1595. All prices at factory—special equip- ment extra on a!l models. ITH the industry building } [) better motor cars and selling them at lower prices—it is grati- fying to find that Graham-Paige is enjoying the greatest business in the company’s history. This follows a 1928 sales volume that established a new first year Po Fnakam feauph 160: ae record. (__<1 dé

— / mm GRAHKAM-PAI

Page 104

104 This air-light, dressy Bantamweight for that sea-breese feeling . . . Black Calf, No. 823: Field Brown, No. 732 They are (Csentlemen' the simplest way to express the inbred distinction of Smith Smart Shoes. That is said without a thought of snobbishness. Feet accustomed to being well dressed are at home in these shoes. And at ease, for good taste in Smith Smart Shoes does not stop at correct lines and sightly leathers. It goes clear through, to a firm foundation of inward excellence. € pper leathers cut by hand and matched by North light, linings smooth and frictionless as the inside of a dress glove—such are the details that mark the lessons learned in three generations of Smith shoemanship. Gentlemen’s shoes these—at dollars less than one expects such shoes to cost. TEN DOLLARS Some Styles to Thirteen Dellars You Cant Wear Out Their Looks i tei) —| oie The quality mark of réu Ly Smith Smart Shoes the J. P. Smith Shoe As for Men and Women Company, Chicago, w —Dr. A. Reed Cush- Illinois, makers of JP. Sia Shoe C ion Shoes for Men WRITE FOR STYLE BOOK AND NAME OF NEAREST DEALER THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 102) fortuitously fantastic. She had reached the hearthrug before Burdett’s discreet an- nouncement had left his lips. “Lucille!” Dutley exclaimed, rising to his feet in amazement. She stopped Burdett, who was leaving the room: “Cocktails, please. The old sort. cigarettes. May I sit down?” She took assent for granted, and threw open farther still her fur coat. She was dressed in the quaint fashion of the day thick furs over a thin crépe de chine dress, gossamerlike, notwithstanding its narrow fur edging. Her silk stockings and patent shoes defied the snow and slush which lay upon the ground. “‘T had to come and say good-by, Charles, dear,”’ she explained, ‘“‘and to make my apologia. I should never have been happy if I had left you without a word.” And ““Good-by?” he repeated. ‘‘Where are you off to?” “ Paris—-Egypt— Khartum, I hope.” “Alone?” “Of course not. With Sigismund de Brest.” He looked grave. She laughed mockingly across at him. “Oh, you don’t know everything!" she exclaimed. ‘You standardize qualities, and you think that love and hate must fall into line with them. When I thought that you were a fool, and Siggie a brilliant fi- nancier, then I believe that I remained more than half in love with you. When I found out that Siggie was haif a fool and half a rogue, that you had had your tongue in your cheek all the time, and were laughing atus, that you were clever, brave and un- usual, then I became a little more than half in love with Siggie. He’s the down dog, you see, and I’m going to take care of him.” Burdett brought in cocktails. There was a queer little flush in her cheeks as she raised her glass. She lit a cigarette. ““Siggie’s going broke, Charles,”’ she con- fided. ‘‘Don’t you bother. Get what you can out of the estate if he owes you any- thing. I don’t think he ever was any good as a financier. Luckily, I’ve got enough for both, and I’m going to take care of him. There’s just one thing, though: I didn’t come here to ask favors. I know every- thing now, you see. That burglary—he had nothing to do with the shooting. Keep him out of it if you can. I don’t want to be a grass widow, and my husband wearing stripes. I’m going to remake Siggie if I can get him away for a year or two. You won't know him later on—really.”’ “Well, you've reckoned it all out, I sup- pose, Lucille,” Dutley remarked. “I’m sure I wish you luck.” She glanced at her watch. “We're catching the last boat for Paris from Croydon,” she continued. “‘That’s what Flove about Siggie. He has such a sense of the dramatic. He would fly, with the thunder beginning to rumble behind him. Charles, I understand things now, although Siggie’s such a sweet coward he daren’t say much. Just this, though: Look out for Thomas Ryde.” “That's all right,”’ Dutley assured her. “I’ve got my eye on him, Lucille. But what about this crossing tonight to Paris?” “You darling!” she laughed. “Every now and then one realizes how thoroughly you were born in Leeds. We were married at the registry office after luncheon. Quick, shake me that last cocktail! The boat won't wait, and Siggie’s terrified to death. It’s perfectly lovely having to find courage for two. Here’s luck, Charles! Marry Grace, and thank God for really good women. I say really good, because I’m not really bad.” She was gone, almost before he could ring the bell, almost before Burdett could hand her into the limousine laden with rugs and luggage. Dutley stepped back into his study, with its odd perfume of violets and furs, a little dazed. It was the end of a chapter of his life. He took down the telephone and put a trunk call through to Leeds. Burdett made his appearance. May 25,1929 “Are you dining in, My Lord?” he asked him. “T don’t quite know. I am waiting for another caller. If he comes ” “There’s a person been here for quarter of an hour, My Lord,”’ Burdett confided. “You know him very well—the funny little man who found us out at Highgate. He’s here still.” Dutley frowned slightly. “Show him in,” he directed, ‘but don’t open the front door to anyone else while he’s here, and have a taxicab waiting for him in the mews.” “Very good, My Lord.” He disappeared for a few minutes, and reéntered, ushering in the visitor. Mr. Ed- ward Wolf was a little more furtive than usual, a little less tidy. He came in stealth- ily, and he began to speak as soon as the door was closed. “I don’t want to stop,” he said. “‘ Have you seen them things that fly round in the air?” “Have I what?” puzzled. “‘Aeroplanes—airships—-whatever they like to call ’em. They take you high up, over the seas, into the clouds, over foreign countries. You've got all the money in the world, guv’nor. You can buy one of them or hire it, whatever they do. Get one, and go. It’s a still night tonight. There’s no wind, only a trifle of sleet. I’ve been up to Highgate. I don’t know why, but there it is—I don’t want to see you done in. He's coming down, guv’nor. There was some- thing he wanted to do today, and he couldn’t. He’s coming dowr to you. He’s got a nice, tidy little car waiting outside The Towers, and he’s just packing a bag, planning his get-away, I expect. Don’t you sit here and wait for him.”’ “Why not? Asa matter of fact, I rather want to see Mr. Thomas Ryde.” The little man shivered from head to foot. “If you wants to commit suicide,’ he groaned, ‘“‘you do it. I tell you, he’s com- ing, and he’s coming tonight, and what he wants from you he’ll get, and he'll leave you where he’s left the others. I’ve known all the great criminals. I wasn’t ever afraid of them. He ain’t a criminal--Thomas Ryde. They haven't got his finger prints at Scotland Yard. They never will have. You'll find his name in the directory. He’s got a telephone number. He’s never been in trouble, never had a police- man touch him on the shoulder, never seen the inside of a police court. Mister, I'd have given you back your hundred pounds sooner than have come here, but there was something made me come. Get away while you can. Let the police do their own dirty work. A few bulls more or less won't matter. You keep outside of it.” Dutley lit a cigarette very deliberately. “Don’t you worry, Wolf,’’ he begged. “TI don’t fancy Thomas Ryde will be likely to pay me any afternoon call before six o’clock. If he does, I'll be ready fer him.” “Guv’nor, he’s a killer,” the little man insisted with a shudder. “Then you be off,” Dutley enjoined. “'There’s a taxicab waiting for you in the mews, and here’s a tenner for coming down.” Dutley rang the bell and the terrified man departed in Burdett’s care. The latter reappeared presently. “Do you know yet whether you will be dining in, My Lord?” he asked once more. “I’m still not quite sure. I’m expecting a caller. You can get my bath ready at the usual time. A short coat will do, I think.” The front doorbell rang. “If that should be a middle-aged, precise- looking gentleman, with gold spectacles, name of Thomas Ryde, you can show him in, Burdett.” Burdett lapsed for a moment from the perfectly trained servant to the watcher at Highgate. There was a gleam of fear in his eyes. “My Lord,” he expostulated, “‘you’re not seeing him in here, alone?” (Continued on Page 106) Dutley demanded,

Page 105

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST This modern room borrows much of its beauty from the floors, wax-polished the modern electric way. Cree seless Floors. 1 VEN OW, as easily as swishing an oil mop protection. Linoleum colors awaken, scars about, you can give your home the splen- on varnish soften and never recur; lacquered, dor of wax-polished floors. painted, shellacked, or tile, every kind of floor, A remarkable invention, Johnson's Electric new or old, responds wonderfully to this Floor Polisher, does all the work while you electric beauty treatment watch . . . Just snap its switch and guide it with Mail this coupon for an absorbing little book, your finger tips. It runs along by itself, skimming over the floors, nimbly turning corners, ducking under low furniture. As it goes, it spreads a carpet of burnished beauty, a wax-film de- void of dust-inviting oil or grease, , Canadian factory: Brantford, Ontario actories also at West Drayton, Middlesex, England and tough, so tough that neither Rosebery, Australia ‘ : : Wax, Varnishes, Enamels, Wood Dves, heels nor dirt will penetrate its | L ps Wax Biish FOR FLOORS - FURNITURE . WOOD- WORK: LINOLEUM: AUTOMOBILES Either liquid or paste. Both are mar The | ogue of VW ax, tor the name of velous polishes the nearest dealer in Johnson Pol for furniture too. : ishers, and for a liberal sample of Johnson's Wax to try. >: % JOHNSON & SON RACINE, WIS The Interior Finishing Authorities

Page 106

106 THE Is Your Luggage Funny? ...do people smile at your OLD-FASHIONED TRUNKS? i oocall you know, has grown up. Even the trunks of five years ago are noticeably out of date. Why not travel with the assurance of perfect grooming. Enjoy the smartness, the amazing convenience and comfort of a good- looking NEW Hartmann—the world’s finest trunk. SQ sizes and shapes to choose from. Colors galore. All the finishes and accessories youcouldask for. Priced —-from less than what you want to pay—to more. Sold everywhere. Hartmann Wardrobe trunks in taxt-steamer itzt, toree-quarter s12e, standard suze and extra, boiding 5, 7, 9 or 11 sits or their equivalent mm costume changes for women. Price, $55. to $85. HARTMARN Trunks Hartmann Trunk Co., Racine, Wis. THE SMARTEST WAY TO TRAVEL SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 104) Dutley smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry,” he enjoined. “I’ve made my plans. Isn’t that the bell again?” Burdett turned reluctantly away, closed the door, and reopened it a moment or two later. ““Mr. Thomas Ryde, My Lord,” he an- nounced. xXXXV HE room was dimly but sufficiently lit. Thomas Ryde advanced a few paces and looked around keenly. “No ambush?” he asked. “We are alone,” Dutley assured him. “Pray take off your overcoat, unless it contains your spare armory. You will find that chair comfortable. I gather that you are a man of correct habits. Let us discuss anything that there may be to be discussed first, and leave the other things till after- ward.” “I make no arrangement with you, nor do 1 give any promise,”” Thomas Ryde said, slowly removing his overcoat and hanging it upon the back of a chair. “I am under a disadvantage in coming here. This room appears to be empty, but for anything I know I may have walked into a trap.” “Beyond my servants, there is no one in the vicinity at present,’’ Dutley told him. “Let us proceed. You were disappointed in your visit to Mr. Hogg today?” “T was disappointed,”” Thomas Ryde admitted, seating himself deliberately in an easy-chair. “I had imagined the man to possess more intelligence. Only two pieces of the receipt were missing, and duplicates for these have been very cleverly faked. Mr. Hogg, I think, was unreasonable.” “You wouldn’t have got away with it,” Dutley confided. “I had been there. That was why I was expecting your visit this evening. You smoke, perhaps, or a cock- | tail?” “Neither, thanks.” “T had previously,”” Dutley continued, “made my own application. That was even more hopeless than yours. The safe was in the name of five people, and to have it opened, the five people must speak to- gether.” “We come to this,’’” Mr. Thomas Ryde remarked, his hand hovering round his coat pocket. “I have four portions of the | receipt. You have two. Since our friend is so obdurate, and the million is available at half-past six this evening, and since we're neither of us anxious to invoke the aid of the police, let us deal on that basis.”’ Dutley shook his head. “I couldn’t do that,”’ he regretted. “ You see, the whole formula belongs to me. That is what I want—the formula.” “Not the million, or a share of it?”’ “Certainly not. You see, the formula happens to be the property of my firm, and I’m not inclined to buy it back. I’m going to take it back.” Thomas Ryde smiled in very peculiar fashion. ‘“‘What about my four parts of the receipt?” he asked. “Very compromising,” Dutley warned him. “I should get rid of them as soon as possible. There’s the fireplace at your service. The only trouble is that I’m afraid you’re too late.” “Am I?” Thomas Ryde queried softly, and his hand disappeared for a moment in the fold of his coat. “*It’s a question of which of us can draw the more quickly,’’ Dutley went on, his eyes glued upon those disappearing fingers. “T rather fancy myself. I knew that you were coming. I encouraged the interview because I had perhaps an unwholesome sort of curiosity to see you face to face. It isn’t my place to give you advice, but fun- nily enough, although you deserve it, I never like to hear of a man being hanged. You are still listening?” “T am listening.” “ET admit that there was a time when, badly though I wanted the formula, I re- fused to have anything to do with the police. That was when you were a united | little band, and I feared that as soon as you were conscious of danger, your first action May 25,1929 would be to destroy the formula. That fear has gone now. You can’t touch the formula unless you take my two fragments of the receipt away from me. I, on the other hand, should be able to get it by collabo- rating with the police and proving that it is stolen property.” “IT suppose you know that you are talk- ing yourself into the grave,’’ Thomas Ryde declared. ‘Unnecessary bloodshed never appealed to me, but those two fragments of the receipt you hold I must have.” *** Must’ is a word which has gone out of fashion with me,” Dutley said quietly. “Besides, reflect for a moment. You are twenty-four hours too late. From the mo- ment I left there this afternoon, Mr. Hogg’s office in the International Safe Deposit Company became the spider’s parlor for you.” Again there was that peculiar glitter be- hind the gold-rimmed spectacles. “You are very much of an amateur in these affairs, Lord Dutley,’’ he remarked. “T have walked into a spider’s parlor be- fore, and the spider has been sorry for it. I have my own plans, but to complete them I require those two fragments of the re- ceipt. I begin to doubt whether you have them.” Dutley’s fingers searched for his pocket- book, and like a flash, the ugly muzzle of Thomas Ryde’s revolver shot out. “Put your hands up!” he directed. . “This second! I’ll find your pocketbook.” Dutley obeyed. “A very clever trick,” he approved. ‘‘ Next order, please.” “With your left hand,”” Thomas Ryde enjoined, “throw your pocketbook upon the table. Be quick about it.” Dutley sighed. “I always felt a pre- sentiment that you were too clever for me, Thomas Ryde. There it is.”’ He did as he was bidden. Thomas Ryde came stealthily across the room. His re- volver seemed to be a part of his arm. Never once did it falter. He picked up the pocketbook, fingered its contents, and thrust it into his pocket. “‘Would you have any objection to my putting my hands down?” Dutley asked. “The position tires me and I am un- armed.” Thomas Ryde smiled steelily. “That seems to me scarcely probable,” he observed. Dutley rose to his feet. “You can squeeze that nasty little implement of yours into my side while you go over me,” he suggested. Thomas Ryde eame nearer. He still walked very stealthily. He gave one the impression of a robot man, mechanically directed, with a sense of infallibility. His left hand passed all over Dutley’s body. Presently he stepped back. “You can put your hands down,” he conceded. Dutley resumed his seat. “That is certainly more comfortable,” he admitted, lighting a cigarette. ‘‘In the language of the classics, Mr. Thomas Ryde, you have come, you have seen, you have conquered. You have now the whole re- ceipt. My curiosity as to your personality is satisfied. What remains?” Thomas Ryde moved a pace or two back. “Only this,’”’ he announced. “I am going to kill you.” “You can’t mean that,” Dutley expostu- lated. “An unarmed man!” “T shall kill you for two reasons,’ Thomas Ryde explained in his calm, ex- pressionless tone. ‘“‘In the first place—do not think that I have not realized it—it is you who have broken up our little com- pany, you who have disarranged our plans, you who have made my chance of getting that million pounds I had set my heart upon a somewhat desperate one. That is the first reason why you are going to die. The next is that if I leave you alive you will destroy my last chance of finding my way out of that spider’s parlor this evening. There is even a third reason. I permit my- self few personal likes or dislikes, but I have always disliked you.” (Continued on Page i109)

Page 107

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 107

or your family the world can only revolve Peal you. For your sweetheart, your chil- dren, for every person you love, each changing phase of your personality is of absorbing in- terest. Is it not natural that they should say to you: “Give us your photograph!" Six, sixteen or sixty, at every stage of our adventure through the years, all of us can have at least this immortality. Before it passes, we can capture each high moment—record for all the coming years our best selves in gracious, enduring photographs. The trained artist— the professional photographer. With his sensitive lens the Free—“The Story Your Face Tells’ A famous psychologist has written a delightful booklet, ‘*The Story Your Face Tells.’ It is fascinating thou- sands. Send for your copy. It is free. Photographers Association of Amer- 58 Euclid Ave., Cleveland, O PHOTOGRAPHS professional photographer grasps the essence of ‘‘you'’—of the per- son you are, not yesterday or to- morrow, but today. He catches the subtle spirit of your individuality, something of a special personal quality no one else can have. Beauty, iCa, 22 The master photographer is a trained artist.

The Master Photographer catches the real spirit of you

character—and more—of body and soul, heart and mind: this is the personality portrait your photographer imprints upon his paper The intimate gift Your likeness is a part of yourself A gift that no one but you can give. No gift could be more highly appreciated. Beyond any other it expresses your sincere regard and affection Give photographs freely. And the children! With the photographer's understanding aid, you can immortalize the little ones. You can keep each lovely little pose and mannerism bright in your heart as they flower into glorious manhood and womanhood Remember, your photographer has at his command not

go mF

Q035¥ p rk Ven, >< "On of INTERMATIONAL

only the whole achievement of science, but trained instinct for personality and character. His pho- tographs can insure completely for you and yours the miraculous joy of memory. When did you visit yout photographer last? LIVE FOREVER By this mark you will know him.

Page 108

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Walk with us down S a good town—-fairly old, and with we of busy, smoky factories. Smoke does dirty things up a bit, but we man- age to keep the place looking fresh and modern in spite of that. How do we do it? Well, let’s take a walk down our street. HIS is Al Jacob’s place. He bought it right after the War when he was Assist- ant Cashier down at the bank. He says it wasn't much of a house, because anything went in those days. He found his war-time house was rapidly getting shabby until he got wise to paint and fixed it up. You can see for yourself that it looks as slick and trim as any house on the street now. Al says he can’t afford to have a dingy house, or the neighbors would think there was something wrong at the bank. He’s President now. He says well painted houses have better loan values, too. HE next one here is Judge Warner's house. He’s one of our big men. They say the Judge’s great-grandfather built the house when he moved out here from New England. Looks as if all the Warners took pretty good care of the old place, doesn’t it? Judge Warner says he has the house painted regularly in simple justice to the fine old building. “Save the surface,” he says, “and you can save all when you use paint and varnish.” ND here’s Ray Stevens’. Judge Warner used to own it—bought it because he didn’t want an eyesore next door. Well, sir, the Judge painted it all up and sold it to Ray, some say at a nice profit. It’s a good house—just the thing for Ray and his big family. Ray says paint and varnish keep the place looking well outside and in. His kids are healthy little rascals and what they do to stairs and floors must be a caution. They can’t do much damage, though, that can’t be fixed up with a little paint or varnish, enamel or lacquer. HIS empty house? Yes, it does look pretty bad. Belongs to Sad Sam Pruett, who lives the other side of town. Never could keep it rented, though. The last peo- ple who lived in it moved out when their little boy broke through the porch floor and our street hurt his leg. They said the walls were damp, too. Ray told Sam that if he used some paint and varnish on the place every so often, the house would stay rented and the neighbors might patronize Sam’s store a little more if he’d paint that up, too. ERE’S a house we're all sort of proud of. It belongs to Mike Tripp. He’s fore- man down at the paper mill. Ever see a pret- tier little place, so nice and white, with all those flowers and that green shrubbery? Yes, sir, Mike’s a credit to this town. Folks didn’t know just how to take it when Mike moved up here from Railroad Avenue, but Mike’s a good citizen and a good neighbor —he keeps everything painted up nice and slick. He says he learned in the old country that frequent painting is no expense—it’s a saving. Mike always was good at saving— that’s why he’s got such a nice place now. 7 7 SAVE THE SURFACE CAMPAIGN 18 East 41st Street, New York This codperative movement by the Paint and Varnish Industry has for its object the awakening cf the public to the economic need for paint and varnish products. The world-wide slogan, “Save the Surface and You Save All,” is your reminder of that need. Discrimi- nation in the selection of materials and in their proper application is essential to good results. Your guide to quality and satisfaction is the reliability of the individual manufacturer, dealer or painter. © 1929. 1002 Save the Surface Campaign May 25, 1929 Sa SL —— pe nee ee ee ee ern eee Cece ome rang pm rine ot

Page 109

a a — eee (Continued from Page 106) “Since when?” “Since you knocked my first ball into the pavilion at Lord’s in the Eton and Harrow match twenty years ago. I was taking wickets when you came in. It was going to be my match. You knocked me off my length, and they were foolish enough to take me off.” “So you were that Thomas Ryde after all!’’ Dutley reflected. “Slim, wiry little chap you were then.” “I was that Thomas Ryde. In those days my father was a chartered accountant. His firm were accountants to Boothroyd’s. Your father quarreled with him, and he lost the best audit the firm ever had. Things went wrong afterward. My father died a bankrupt, about the same year, I should think, as yours became a million- aire. I do not approve of personal feelings, Lord Dutley, but I have always permitted myself the luxury of hating you. I was employed in my capacity of economist to look into the expense accounts of your firm some time ago. It was down there that I learned about your business, came into touch with the formula, worked out this plan for securing my own fortune and, as I hoped, your ruin.” “A little spiteful, weren’t you?” Dutley remonstrated. ‘‘Couldn’t you put down that thing,” he suggested, waving his hand at the revolver, “while we’re having this pleasant little chat?” “The chat is over. I shall see now whether you are a brave man, Lord Dutley, or only a poseur, for, as sure as I stand here, when I have counted three I am pull- ing the trigger of this gun. Do you hear?” “Yes, I hear you,” Dutley replied. “‘Get along with it.” Thomas Ryde was once more the robot, mechanical-like figure. The muzzle of his villainous-looking weapon was pointed straight at Dutley’s heart. For the first THE SATURDAY time, as he began to count, there came a single touch of humanity in the glitter of his eyes behind his spectacles. ““One—two—three!”’ There was a hard, metallic click. No stab of flame, no report. The same thing was repeated, and, probably for the first, and certainly for the last time in his life, Thomas Ryde lost his nerve and his poise. The miracle was in itself stupefying. The next moment Dutley’s fist had shot out to his jaw. He was lying on the carpet, and the room was swimming before his eyes. He was dimly conscious of Dutley drawing a revolver very similar to his own from a drawer in the table. He heard a far-away voice speaking into the telephone. Then he was aware again of Dutley bending over him, a very grim look in his sunburned, youthful face. He made an effort at speech, pointing to the revolver. “I admit I've had all the luck,” Dutley said. ‘‘We go to the same gunsmith— best maker of dud cartridges in England. Merest chance in the world he spoke to me about your revolver shooting. I got him to change your cartridges—thought you were safer with the duds.” Thomas Ryde made one more effort, but collapsed again. “I'm beaten!’ he gasped. The telephone bell rang. Dutley took off the receiver. “Scotland Yard,” he repeated. “I’m Lord utley, yes. Inspector Bridgeman is on his way-—will arrive in three minutes? Good ' Tell him to come straight into my library.” Thomas Ryde was clinging to the leg of the table in his efforts to sit up. He reached for his useless revolver, and with trembiing fingers drew out the cartridges. There was a curious change in his face. The hard, cruel mouth had drooped. The glitter behind those spectacles had gone, replaced by the shadow of fear. EVENING POST “Dutley,” he faltered, “you've got me. I’m done. There's only one thing I'm terri- fied of —the rope. Give me one of your cartridges. That’s the way you'd go out yourself. Give me one!” He staggered to his feet, supporting him- self against the table. Dutley hesitated. Ryde seemed incapable of further speech. He dangled his revolver before him with the breech open. With a little shrug of the shoulders, Dutley took a cartridge from the drawer and dropped it in. “You'd better not be long about it,”’ he warned him. ‘“‘That’s Bridgeman’s car outside.” Thomas Ryde closed the breech of his revolver with unexpected strength. He leaned sprawling across the table. Dutley suddenly looked once more into the dark muzzle. “This is what I’m going to swing for!" Thomas Ryde called out joyfully. Dutley’s leap was a magnificent effort, but he felt the scorch of the bullet as it whizzed past his cheek. With a yell of dis- appointment, Ryde threw up his arms. The revolver fell onto the carpet. Dutley’s hand was upon his throat when Bridgeman and two officers came hurriedly in. “Here’s your man, Bridgeman!” Dutley exclaimed. “‘Take him away! He's a nasty fellow!” The telephone rang once more. “My long-distance call?’’ Dutley in- quired. . . . “Good! Through to Leeds, aml? ... That you, Grace? ... Yes, dear, it’s Charles. Got a message for your father first. . Good! Tell him to get down to the works early tomorrow morning. Reinstate all hands. I'm coming with the formula by the twelve o'clock train from St. Pancras. And, Grace, will you marry me?” (THE END) SHORT TURNS AND ENCORES “We'll have to separate the cards into p«cks and count them,” said the wife. “That’s the hardest card trick of all,” said I, trying to pull apart two cards which were pasted together face to face. “Here’s a pack with forty-nine cards,” said the wife doubtfully. “‘Is that enough, Oswald?” “No,” said Oswald shortly. “‘How many have you in that pack, Elbert?” “Fifty-five.” “Why, Elbert!” said the wife. “‘How could you have fifty-five?” “T was counting the pieces separately. Isn’t that right?” “What an idiot!” said the wife, and Os- wald made no protest. “Separate them according to suits, and it'll only be the work of a minute to find out which ones are missing.” I separated them according to suits, and it was the work of but half an hour to dis- cover which ones were missing and to sub- stitute appropriate cards from two other packs. “Now,” said Oswald, “you shuffle the cards.” I shuffled the cards. “Take any card,” said Oswald. I took a card. “Now put it back in the pack.” I put it back in the pack. “Cut the pack.” I cut the pack. Oswald separated the pack into several piles, shuffled in a gingerly manner, spread the cards out face up, and, with an air of triumph, chose the seven of spades. He grinned with delight. “Ts this your card?” “T don’t know.” “‘Didn’t you choose the seven of spades?” “TI don’t know. You didn’t tell me to notice.” “Well, of all the - What did you think I told you to pick a card for?”’ (Continued from Page 34) “T don’t know. I thought you were go- ing to do a trick.” ““Good heavens, what a How can I do a trick if you don’t do your part?” “Tt was your trick, not mine. If you want me todoa trick, say so. I can do tricks. But if I’ve got to do half your trick, I don’t think ‘t’s much of a trick, that’s all.” “Take any card.” Oswald slammed the pack on the card table, making its uneasy legs wabble dangerously. ‘‘ Now if you have brains enough to tell one card from an- other, look at it and see what it is.” “it's the queen of hearts.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Take another ecard. Look at it see what it is—and keep your fool mouth shut.” Although offended by his manner, | fol- lowed his instructions to the letter, and thrust the card back in the pack. Oswald shuffled and spread the cards out on the table. “There it is!” I cried gleefully. “ The king of clubs!"’ I put my finger on it. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go now,” said Oswald in a strangled voice. He tipped over the table on rising, and did not apolo- gize. “‘And let me tell you that this is the last time I'll ever show you a card trick!” The front door slammed so that the house shook. The wife spoke to me with an air of re- proach: “ What ashame, to make Oswald's card trick a failure!” “Well, anyhow,” said I, “mine was a great success.” Morris Bisnop. D.D.S. O HE’S an artist, heh? [Open a little wicer, please.| Well, now when I was a young fellow, I wanted to be an artist. What d’you think of that? [Wider.! And if I do say so, I wasn’t so bad either. Oh, of course, I didn’t draw so very much, but I was «razy about it. But [Little wider, please.| my father said: “You take your dentistry course, and when you've finished that, why, then you've got a profession, and if you want to be an artist, I’ve done what I could.” (Spit it out.| Yes, I suppose some of them do make a living, but seems to me all of them that come in here are always having a silver filling where a gold inlay, for instance, would be better. But it’s always the same story. [I know it hurts, but this'll only take a minute now.| And so I took the dentistry course, and do you know—when I'd finished it, I'd be- come so wrapped up in the work |Wider, please.| that I couldn’t see art at all. {A little wider.} And I've come to figure it’s like this: There’s as much art in filling a tooth as there is in painting a sunset! And if you put your soul right into it, there’s as much art in the dentistry game as there is in creating an opera or painting a magazine cover! [You know I can’t do anything if you keep biting down on my fingers like that. | “Pour.” The Primal Urge "M weary of coffee and toast, I'd like something tasty and new. For breakfast, a nicely broiled steak From a saber-toothed tiger would do Ensembles and period gowns Are stale to a spirit that grieves, Like mine, for the shimmering green Of that fig-leaf kimono of Eve's. I'm tired of a car and a plane, And horses I cannot abide, Won't somebody get me a roc, Or a plesiosaurus to ride? My apartment I’m growing to hate, And I'm sick of a porcelain tub; What I want is a cave in the hills, And a lover who courts with a club Minna Irving. 109 THE As KLE FASHIONED OXFORD Wye it comes to select ing shoes again—will it be just another pair? How much better to make your choice from these shoes which offer you a distinct, outstanding feature Nunn-Bish Oxfords are Ankle-Fashioned — they have an exclusive hand- tailored feature that elimi- nates gapping at the ankle and slipping at the heel. $8.50 to $13.50. Style Book and name of nearest dealer on request. Also sold at ex clusive NURK-BUSh Stores in New York, Boston, Norfolk, Clewetand, Detroit, Dayton, Chicago, St. Louis, New Orleans, Milwaukee, St. Paul, Omaha Denver, San Francisc me ~ - ¥ L Nunn-Biish San Francisco New York « Milwaukee The Buckingham \ Style No. 806 \

Page 110

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 110 «“Finger-Tip Control” —One button, in the center of the steering wheel, controls the starter, lights and horn. Simple design, easy operation; no wires in steering post. You can keep your foot on the brake when starting or re-starting on a hill. seme WILLYS*KNIGHTiooe ens 94 WILLYS-OVERLAND, Se Ge 4s TOLEDO, OHIO Willys-Overland Sales Co., Ltd., Toronto, Canada j ro Coach $1045; Coupe $1045; Roadster $1045; Touring y 4 4 “ " $1045. Wire wheels included. Prices f. o. b. Toledo, x i sites r 2 Ohio, and specifications subject to change without notice. Equipment, other than octandard, extra, ¢ fl WILLYS-KNIGHT “70-B” FIVE-PASSENGER SEDAN S i

Page 111

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE “70-B” IS THE MOST POWERFUL WILLYS-KNIGHT EVER OFFERED AT SO LITTLE COST EAUTY AND fize BEYOND ITS PRICE The new style Willys-Knight “70-B” is winning merited success as history’s finest Willys-Knight value—the largest, most beautiful and most powerful Knight-engined car ever offered at such a low price. Its grace of line and luxury of finish distinguish the new “70-B” as the outstanding creation of modern style specialists. Its big motor is the patented double sleeve-valve engine, so nota- ble for smoothness, silence, economy and increasing efficiency. A heavy seven-bearing crankshaft reduces vibration to a minimum, while the improved frame construction gives extra rigidity and en- hanced riding comfort. Only quantity production and volume sales make possible the low price on so artistically designed and scien- tifically engineered a car as the new style Willys-Knight “70-B.”

Page 112

Nr ss The... Co. markets vacuum cleaners | through salesmen working out of branch offices. Many sales are made for part cash and monthly payments. When the . Co. first approached its bank to dis- | count customer “paper” the banker ex- | plained that a finance company was the proper agency for this type of credit service. C. 1. T. was discussed. z he... Co, is now a regular client. . L. T. discounts the accumulated cus- ya paper at cont venient intervals, re- ceiving its money as the purchasers pay. | By this C. 1. T. Plan the... Co. main- | tains its working capital liquid. Many Firms Learn. of C.I.T. Service | through their banks N° one type of banking institu- tion is equipped to care for every type of credit need. The C.1.T. group of finance companies specializes in serving manufac- turers and merchants who require credit and service of a kind not ordinarily extended by the banks which carry their accounts. Many of those we serve became our clients on the advice of their bankers, who were concerned that their clients should have the quality of finance service made possible by C. I. T.'s experience, responsibility and unequalled facilities. Write for C. 1. T. Plans covering Credit Sales of Aircraft Musical Instruments Automobiles Office Equipment Barbers’ Equipmert Oil and Gas Heaters Boats Pianos, Phonographs Contractors Printing Machinery Equipment Radios Dairy Machinery Electric Appliances Farm Machinery Furniture Garage Equipmen: Hotel Furnishings Refrigerators Store Fixtures Textile Machinery Vacuum Cleaners Washing Machines X-ray Machines and many other products (ovmeRCIAL Jsvestment Rist CORPORATION One Park Avenue, New York Subsidiary and Affiliased Operating Com- panies with Head Offices in New York— Chicago — San Francisco ~ Toronto — London — Berlin — Paris — Brussels — Copenhagen -- Havana -- San Juan, P. R..~ Buenos Aires— Sao Paulo—Sydney, Aus- tralia — Offices in (Sit OA more than 100 - Mh Fpl agit THE SATURDAY “‘Hogan’ll take you,”’ Danby said, step- ping out and holding the door open for | Cherry “"Night, Ted,” she called over her shoulder. Lew Danby nodded and from the curb closed the door. Seated alone in the rear of the luxurious car, Ted watched the two enter the hotel together. “Where to?” the chauffeur asked. He had a deep rumbly voice suggesting the low growl of a large dog. Ted directed him to the newspaper office. The car eased away from the hotel front, moving slowly in the narrow street. A nightmarish panic clawed Keeler’s nerves. He felt infinitely small, fearfully alone and menaced by an irresistible evil power. With difficulty he fought off the impulse to cower and cry out his terror or leap from the moving car and run. The office. Ted was in doubt whether to tip the chauffeur. He was afraid to do it | and afraid not to. Alighting, he proffered a | dollar bill. ‘Get yourself a cigar,” he said. The fear in him made his tone loud, cheap. The chauffeur looked at him, shook his head. “’S all right,” he said. The gears meshed. The car shot ahead. Ted thought he heard a snort of scorn. His | cheeks burned. He muttered a curse as he | shoved the bill back into his pocket and | started up the dingy narrow stairs toward | the city room. The familiar atmosphere broke the spell of unreasoned horror that had gripped him. | He sat still before his desk, gratefully ab- | sorbing it. The syncopated chatter of the | telegraph instruments, the unorchestrated | clattering of a number of typewriters, the murmur from a group of gossiping re- porters, the bored voice of a rewrite man at a telephone taking a story from police: “¥en. - Yo, I got you. ... . AR EE. . . J-o? Oh! G-o— G for George. Right? Shoot. . . Yes. . . . Allright.” The half bullying, half whining voice of some pug’s manager annoying the sporting editor: “‘A chance, that’s all, just a showin’. We ain't astin’ you to take our word for it. Just give us | a break an’ if this boy o’ mine ——-”” The singsong bawl of a veteran copy chopper: ““Co-o-ope-e-e bo-o-oy!"’ The night city editor at his desk, in shirt sleeves and green eye shade, assignment book open on the | desk at his left, copy in front of him, pencil in hand. He looked in the assignment book, glanced around the room and called “Keeler!” Ted got up and went to him. The city editor lit a cigarette and leaned back, push- ing up his eye shade. “‘Lew Danby’s in town,” he said. “Yes,”’ said Ted, “I know.” “Oh, you seen him?” “Met him at dinner over at Maurice's.” “Get anything?” “No. I—I didn’t know ——” “Good story in him if he'll talk. He will sometimes. Know anything about him?” “No. I just —— You know—at din- ner —he just came in and —— “One of the biggest gamblers in the country. Originated out West somewhere, I think. I don’t know. Never get any- thing out of him about his early days. Lot | of rumors. I've heard he was in several gun | scrapes when he was a youngster. Some | people say he’s half Mex. He's over at the | Roosevelt.” “ Yes.” “You know—one of these stories about sudden ups and downs, They tell me he’s tossed off as high as a million dollars in one week and grabbed it back just as fast. See if he'll talk.” “ All right.” “You may have to salve him a little. He’s out so far on top these days—real estate, stocks, this, that and the other thing. The old gambling racket’s nothing EVENING POST BIG TIME (Continued from Page 27) more than a side line with him now. He may not want to talk about it.”’ “T’ll see what I can get out of him.” Cherry Wallace was busy back of the cigar counter when Ted Keeler reached the hotel. He loitered near by until she had a leisure moment. “I’m going to interview Mr. Danby,” he told her. She laughed. “They always do,” she said—‘“‘try to, anyhow. Usually he doesn’t like it. Tell him that I said you’d do a good job.” There was a customer at the other end of the counter. Cherry hurried to wait on him. Ted went to a room phone and called Danby. “This is Keeler, Mr. Danby,’’ he said. “‘Keeler?’’ Danby replied, puzzled. “I met you over at the restaurant,” Ted said, “‘with Miss Wallace.” “Oh,” said Danby. “Yes?” “T guess Cherry didn’t tell you, Mr. Danby. I’m on the Star here.” “Reporter?” “Yes. Could I see you for a few min- utes?”’ A pause, then: “All right, come up.” An hour later Ted stopped at the cigar counter again. “Say,” he said excitedly, “‘Danby’s a peach, isn’t he?”’ “Think so?” said Cherry. “Funny,” Ted said, coloring. “I had him all wrong at first. I didn’t like him at all.” ae No? ” “He hit me funny at first,’”’ Ted went on. “T almost hated him. He—I don’t know— he got me all fussed up.” “Like him better now?” “Oh, he’s a peach!” Ted said enthusi- astically. ‘‘My, he’s had an interesting life, hasn’t he?” “Um!” said Cherry. ‘Talk, did he?”’ “T’ll say he talked!” Ted said jubilantly. “T got a story out of him that'll knock your eye out. Did he ever tell you about the time out in Tia Juana that ——” “Probably,” Cherry interrupted dryly. “He’s told me a lot of stuff. I don’t re member.” “He was broke,’ Ten went on enthusi- astically, ‘‘in a gambling house out there dead broke. No one would loan him a thing. Finally he got hold of a Chinese porter—you know, a fellow just cleaning up around—and talked him out of fifty dollars. Did he ever tell you that one?”’ Cherry shook her head. “‘The Chinaman was to get half of whatever he won—if he won anything,” he went on. “Yes,” said Cherry, “I know that gag.” “Do you know how much he won inside of two hours?” he asked impressively. “Thirty-eight thousand dollars! Can you imagine that? Thirty-eight thousand dol- lars! The Chinaman kept begging him to quit and divide the money, so finally, when he had thirty-eight thousand, he cashed in and gave the Chinaman half. Think of that! Nineteen thousand dollars for the use of fifty for a couple of hours! Well, the Chinaman stuffed that money in his pockets and lit out for China just as fast as he could go. Gee, he had enough to make him rich over there for the rest of his life!” “What about Danby?” she asked. “He went on playing,” Ted said. “He played through the morning till near time for the first race and then he went to the track. When the last race was over that afternoon he was two hundred thousand dollars ahead and had bought three horses. What do you think of that?” “Um!” said Cherry. “Don’t you believe it?’ he asked, bridling. “It’s true,” she said. dad telling me about it.” “He told me a lot of other stuff, too,”” he went on boyishly. ‘‘Makes a peach of a story.” “T remember my May 25,1929 He told her good night and hurried to the office. She watched him out of the hotel. “Poor kid!”” she said gently. A cus- tomer rapped on the counter with a coin. “Yes, sir,”’ she said brightly, turning. The next day. At luncheon, in a restau- rant near the hotel. Cherry Wallace and Lew Danby. “Read that slush your chump boy friend wrote about me?” he asked, chuckling. “Oh, lay off, Lew!” she said shortly. “He's a nice kid.” He drew on a cigarette, exhaled slowly and studied her through the drifting smoke, his eyes calculating, amused. “How come, Cherry?” he asked. “What?” “Little dizzy on this young apple knocker?”’ She flushed. ‘‘ Never expected to find you heart tipsy in a kindergarten,” he said, grinning. “*He’s older than I am.” “Brace up!’’ Lew said scornfully. ‘“‘You know what I mean.” She shrugged. ‘I like him,” she said de- fiantly. ‘“‘ Nothing to it, of course—couldn’t be. I'll be out of here in another month.” “Behave!” he said. “I'll fix you up. Rattle out tonight.”” She shook her head. “Barry Zugner’s casting a new musical trick next week,” he went on. ‘I’m spoon- ing the sugar for the thing—see you get a good part.” “Tie on another fly,”’ she advised him. “You aren’t going to catch anything in this pond with the one you're using.” He smoked thoughtfully for a little and sighed. “I don’t know why I should be ga-ga about you,” he said, frankly puzzled. ‘I’ve been around long enough to know better.” “*You just want what you can’t get,” she told him. He nodded. “I suppose that’s true.” “You'd be tired of me in a month.” “T could say no to that, but I won't. I believe in form, and on past performance you're right. Nevertheless ——” “You want me, anyhow.” “That’s it!’’ he said. “Nothing doing!”’ she said firmly. “No time, no place, nohow. That’s flat, Lew!” “I’m hooked,” he said. “Let’s get married.” “Lew!” His smile was bleak. that,”” he confessed. “No, Lew,” she said, more gently. “Tf you'd put it that way last year —— “You'd have done it then?” “Jumped at the chanée.”’ “*Why not now? I'll go the route and let you pick it. Make a cash settlement on you before we tie or you can take a chance on the amount of alimony you can get after I jump the fence.” She shook her head. I’m sorry.” His eyes went ugly. ‘“‘Not the apple knocker!’’ he said incredulously. “You don’t get it, Lew,” shesaid. “He's so—I don’t know—so darn nice. He’s sort of got to me. I know perfectly well that five years from now he'll have to think twice to remember my name and all that, but ——- Look, Lew, I’m not gone on you—not a bit—never was. The marrying thing would keep the John Laws quiet, but ——— Do you see what I mean? I can't do it—not now.” “oe Later? ” “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve got to get set somehow before the crow’s-feet make a character woman out of me. I wonder if I've got enough to get up there on my own, with a break of luck?” “You're good,” he conceded. “Tt’s as bad as “T can't do it, Lew. “You can sing and dance and act, and you won’t be hard on the eyes for many a year yet. Properly handled, you could get over the jumps and come in on top. It’s a rough scramble any other way, Cherry.” (Continued on Page 114)

Page 113

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | Today your Boy, your Girl, face new “ye-S/rains | They deserve the MODERN help these wide-angle Glasses give: ‘O much for tender, growing eyes to see, to read, to \J write, to study. So much swift, jumpy travel; so much artificial light . . . and so few of their waking moments, day or night, are free from hard eye work. Give their eyes every chance. Make sure whether they need glasses now—and if they do, give them the dest that science has made, with new, modern lenses that will help them as no ordinary lenses can. Wide-angle Tillyer Lenses are a new achievement in eye-glass development. They’re already professionally recognized as important—especially for what they will do for the eye-comfort of millions of children (and grown-ups as well). Take the youngsters today to your eyesight spe- cialist; if they need glasses, ask him about fitting them with Tillyer Lenses; he’li show you why they are so much better. For a booklet describing Tillyer Lenses in detail, write Dept. 2, American Optical Co., Southbridge, Mass. | Mo Wl... wide-angle | comet : TILLYER LENSES Accurate to the very edge

Page 114

THE SATURDAY

i> Stag “~~ The (Comptometer-Plus When you buy a Comptometer you get something more than a machine. W hat you get is, the Comptometer —plus continuous constructive serv- icing which puts at your command, free of charge— —Proper installation of the ma- chine by men who “know how.” ~——Personal surveys to determine the most economical methods of routing the flow of work. —Personal help and advice in applying the Comptometer to oper- ations such as Sales Distribution, Billing, Cost and other routines. —~Personal and correspondence instruction for your operators on short-cut methods available with the Comptometer. —And above all, a dependable Source of supply for permanent, temporary and relief operators, trained to use Comptometer speed with accuracy. FELT & TARRANT Mra. Co., 1723 N. Paulina St., Chicago, Il. CONTROLLED-KEY

ADDING AND CALCULATING MACHINE If not made by Felt <S Tarrant it’s not a Comptometer Only the Comptometer has the Controlled-key safeguard

EVENING POST (Continued from Page 112) “You tell me!”’ she said bitterly. He leaned forward and crushed the lighted end of his cigarette on the ash tray. “*You’re a hard kid,” he said. ‘“‘ You'll get sawed off the limb one of these days, though, and I aim to be around with a net when you drop. Got any money?” “A little.” “How much?” “About a hundred and ten.” “Give me a hundred.” She stared. “You won't take a loan,” he explained. “It’s just plain silly for you to be playing saleslady back of a hotel cigar counter! You've no objection to my taking your ewn dough and making you a piece of change, have you?” “*Horses?”’ she asked. He nodded. “Not a bit,” she said heartily. She counted five twenties from her purse and handed them to him. He jammed them carelessly into his vest pocket with a thumb end. “Don’t make any mistake,” he said. “I'd starve you if I thought it would do me any good.” “Nice tiger!’ she cooed. He frowned, laughed. ‘Win you out of this town this afternoon with any kind of a ’ break,” he said. “‘Good card going out at the Fairgrounds. I know something in a couple of the races and all I need in two or three more is a break.” She looked at the clock and moved her chair back. “Ouch!” she said. “‘You do get little woiking goils into bad habits, Lew. I’m five minutes late now.” “T’ll sit on with another pot of coffee and a nail,”’ he said as she arose and gathered her things. ‘‘See you when I get back from the track.” For a time he sat morose, smoking, sip- ping coffee; then out. His car was waiting near the hotel entrance. As he went to- ward it Ted Keeler, waiting near by, ap- proached and accosted him. “Did you read the story this morning, Mr. Danby?” he asked eagerly. Danby | nodded. “Was it all right?” Ted's voice was anxious. “Sure,” Danby said, smiling. ‘Good piece.” “Mighty glad you liked it,” Ted said | gratefully. “ Did I get that part about the | Chinaman all right?” “Didn't see anything wrong with it.” “Tt was nineteen thousand that you gave him, wasn’t it?”’ “Right!” - Ted drew a long breath and shook his head. “I was sure that was what you said, but it seemed such a lot of money I was al- most afraid to use it. They liked it in the office.” o Good!”’ “They gave me a bonus for it.” He said that shyly, flushing a little. “Yes? How much?” The flush deepened. ‘Oh, well, it didn’t amount to anything as far as the money goes—only five dollars. It showed they liked it, though, didn't it?” “Yes, sir!’’ Danby said gravely. “It sure did.” He looked Ted over curiously. “Got to be busting along,” he said after a moment. He moved toward his car. The chauffeur swung the door open for him. “Oh, Mr. Danby, just a minute,” Ted said nervously, following him. ‘“‘Could I speak to you-—-for just a minute?” “I’m going out to the track now,” Danby said. - Ted looked into the car. No one there. “Would you mind if I ——-”’ he began. “Not a bit,” said Danby. “Hop in.” “Tt’s my day off,”’ Ted explained. “Um!” said Danby. Two blocks in silence. Ted was nervous. “ What is it?” Danby asked bluntly. “Oh!” Ted said, startled. “Why, you see, I was thinking about—you know, that Chinaman you told me about, out in Tia Juana.” “ Yes?” “He gave you fifty dollars and you gave him back half of what you won on that. That was the way, wasn’t it?”’ Lad Yes.”’ May 25, 1929 “Well, now look, Mr. Danby, I don’t want you to think I’m fresh or anything like that, and if you don’t want to do this for me you just say so and it'll be perfectly all right. I was just thinking ———” Ted was still talking excitedly when they reached the track. “All right,” Danby said shortly as the car stopped, “‘come along.” That night. Ten o’clock. The dingy old L. & N. train shed. The Crescent City Limited, northbound, just pulling out. Cherry Wallace, sitting on the rear plat- form of the observation car, alone. In her purse nine thousand and some odd dollars. Money won that afternoon with the hun- dred she had given Danby to play for her. A hundred on a ten-to-one shot in the first race. A thousand on an eight-to-one in the third. Danby had handed her the money at the hotel in the early evening, telling her briefly the manner in which it was Won. “There’s your lam sugar,” he had said eurtly. “Don’t spill it. Luck.” A nod and he was gone. She had not seen him since. The train moved slowly out past the old French market. In the suburbs it gathered speed. “Good-by, kid!”’ Cherry said huskily. It was her only good-by to Ted Keeler. She had not seen him before she left. Moss-draped forest. Moon glint on swamp water and bayou. The train at full speed. New York-bound. Cherry winked back tears and resolutely banished a tightening of herthroat. ‘‘ That's that!’’ she said to herself firmly. She went into the observation car. There, on a big leather lounge, sat Lew Danby. “In person,” he assured her, grinning. “Not a ghost.” She sat beside him. ‘I didn’t know you were going north,” she said. He chuckled. “Neither did I till you bought your ticket.” A spirit of raillery buoyed her. “Just a john!” she taunted him. “A coonskin coat and a bun and I’d be collegiate,” he retorted. They laughed. He told her of shows that had come and gone since she was in touch with Broadway, confided the amusing in- side story of the last heavyweight cham- picnship fight and related the ridiculous unpublished details of a divorce case that had recently been front-page stuff. Fa- miliar stuff to Cherry—home stuff, the wise patter of her own people. She laughed happily and wise-cracked comment on his gossip. No train ever traveled at the speed she was leaving New Orleans. Within half an hour nothing but the unimportant mat- ter of land miles separated her from Broad- way. Danby spoke of meeting a mutual friend at the track during the afternoon. Told an amusing story about him. While they were still chuckling he said casually, “That long-legged pet monkey of yours was out there with me this after- noon.” “Ted?” “That his name? The dime-a-dozen re- porter, I mean.”’ He laughed. “I made him a member.” “Lew!” “He begged for it. Know what he wanted me to do? He had fifteen hundred skins saved up and he propositioned me to take it, run it up at the track and then split fifty-fifty with him. That yarn about the Chink that staked me out in Tia Juana put notions in his head.” “Lew!” she said, horror in her eyes. “Lew! You didn’t ——” “Who says I didn’t?” he said sharply. “He was a thousand to one and no takers from the time he tied into me with that proposition. I made two bets for you dur- ing the day, and each time I bet for you I pinned seven hundred and fifty of his on the nose of my second choice for a saver. I didn’t miss for you once. I missed for him twice. Two and out!” (Continued on Page 117)

See Se

1 se ahah

Page 115

es THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE FINISHING TOUCH OSuors can spoil an otherwise perfect appearance. Your tites are your car’s shoes. Complete the beauty and swank of your car with LEE Super De Luxe tires, and the finishing touch is added. Underneath the classical design of this Super lies a strength which we firmly believe has never before been built into a tire. For as long as the average owner drives his car, this LEE Super will carry him the whole distance, leaving plenty to spare. Greater safety against side slips and skid- ding is provided in the deep cut, years- lasting, all-season tread. What appears to be merely a pattern is actually an engi- neering triumph. Every inch of the tread is scientifically designed to give maximum safety to your passengers, and to mini- mize punctures. 8 Ply side walls processed from special combed cord fabric as only LEE of Consho- hocken does it, assure a riding comfort not equalled even by lighter balloons. Safety, mileage and comfort are three out- standing virtues, but above all, perhaps, is the continuous, uninterrupted, crouble- free service which these LEE Supers assure. Tire wear in summer is at least double per thousand miles because of hot roads, so it is evident that smooth treads now will mean worthless and dangerous tires soon. Therefore, equip your car—new or old— NOW —with these SuperLEEtive tires, and forget tire troubles. LEE dealers will make you a fair allowance for your present tires, so there seems no reason for delay. GENERAL OFFICES: CONSHOHOCKEN PA.,U.5S.A Factories: CONSHOHOCKEN, PA. aad YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO

Page 116

a , ete in age and appearance, one car shoots eagerly ahead, while the other lags far behind. In traffic, on hills, there’s the same startling difference. Such contrasts can usually be traced directly to a difference in the quality of gasolines used. Ordinary gasolines are “slow”—they do not vaporize fast enough to keep pace with the engine. The result—starved cyl- inders! And an engine that cannot accelerate properly. The new and better Texaco vaporizes rapidly at all engine speeds—it is true high test gasoline. The harder you step on the accelerator, the faster full-powered “dry gas” flows into the cylinders. Try Texaco today. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A frequent reason why one car is so much better than another of the same make and model .... . Let the comparison—and the contrast—prove its value. The new and better Texaco is sold in every State at all pumps bearing the Texaco Red Star with the Green T. Everywhere uniform, high test—a premium gasoline at no added price. And for safe, dependable lubrication — Texaco Golden Motor Oil—clean, clear, pure. THE TEXAS COMPANY, TEXACO PETROLEUM PRODUCTS TEXACO GASOLINE May 25,1929

Page 117

— ae me — (Continued from Page 114) She said nothing—sat still, staring, the color gone from her face. Danby grinned. ‘‘ That flea got under my hide a little,”’ he confessed. “‘Why, he was trying to use me to run up a bank roll for him so he could make himself a big shot with you! The nerve!” No answer to this. “Well, what about it?’’ he asked irri- tably after a little. Still no answer Danby got up. “T get no kick out of this,”’ he declared. “T’m going to the club car and see if I can Tractor mechanics they seemed to be; Their job had probably been First to start the tractor up, And then to bring it in. “All right,” said Lee. “‘You guys ain’t going to take this baby in to your own lines. You’re going to drive her over our way. Come on. Crank her up, and let’s ” go. At first the Germans looked pretty dumb; They didn’t understand; So Lee had to start in gesturing And pointing with his hand. He made them adjust the throttle and spark And spin the crank around; And the heavy motor started up With a splendid roaring sound. Then he put one Fritz on the driver's seat, With the other one close beside, While he and Pudgy climbed aboard And settled themselves for a ride. Lee prodded the driver’s ribs with his gun, And pointed south through the wood, And the driver got the machine under way As fast as ever he could. Old Gretchen went clanking and roaring along And approached the American line, Smashing her way through the underbrush With everything working fine. But whenever you go through No Man’s Land On a dizzy tractor ride, You are sure to get some attention From the people on either side. Somebody somewhere must have seen The underbrush crashing down; While others couldn’t help Dut hear The motor’s roaring sound. The machine-gun nest in front of them Was kind enough to hold back, But other machine guns off to the side Began to sputter and crack. A lonesome bullet hit with a clang On the tractor’s resounding steel, And ricocheted off through the forest trees With a nasty whining squeal. At this the driver threw out the clutch, And he and his German friend Dove over the side, while Pudgy and Lee Went scrambling off the rear end. The two Americans crawled underneath, And groveled on the ground, While a regular storm of whizzing steel Swept past them all around. A brisk bombardment by whizz-bang shells From the German lines began, And bullets pounded on Gretchen’s sides Like hail on an old tin pan. The racket kept up for quite a while; Then slackened and quieted down; And Lee and Pudgy lifted their heads And began to look areund. THE SATURDAY stir up a bridge game. You better turn in and sleep yourself sensible. See you in the morning.” He left the car. She sat quiet for a little time and then went out again on the ob- servation platform. Miles. Moon glint on swamp water and bayou. Midnight. One in the morning. More miles. Cherry got up and sought the porter of her car. “What's the next stop?”’ she asked. **Mobile, ma’am,”’ he said. “‘ Be there in a few minutes now.” GRETCHEN (Continued from Page 7) “What,” asked Lee, “has happened to our chauffeur and footman?”’ “They’ve gone home,” said Pudgy. “They scuttled into them bushes like a couple of rabbits.” “All right, let "em go,”’ said Lee. “‘The motor is still running. I can drive this baby myself.” “Maybe it would be safer if we walked.” “What! And leave Gretchen here? After all the trouble we’ve taken? I should say not!” “This business don’t look good to me,” said Pudgy. “Tt won’t be so bad,” said Lee. ‘‘Them machine gunners and whizz-bang artists are a long ways off and they can’t really see us here in this thick underbrush. They were firing at the noise and the moving bushes. This time I'll go very careful. We'll make it easy. Come on.” They both climbed up on the tractor seat, And Lee put the gears in low, And started old Gretchen rolling along, Easy and steady and slow. He steered so he didn’t hit any tall Or conspicuous bush or tree; He kept the motor throttled down, And it ran so quietly That nobody bothered them at all; Nobody fired a round; And soon they reached the machine-gun nest In the shell hole in the ground. Lee tossed the gun that Pudgy had swiped To the sergeant in command, And drove right on with a happy smile And a jaunty wave of his hand. They were now behind the American lines, And fairly safe once more, So Lee pulled the throttle open again And let the motor roar. He drove along a small wood road That led toward the battery; He remarked to Pudgy that everything Was going splendidly. And then, when the battery camp was only A half a mile ahead, The motor gave a couple of coughs And went completely dead. “What now?” asked Pudgy. “Looks like we run out of gas,”’ said Lee. He inspected the tank. “Yes, she’s dry.” ““What’ll we do?” asked Pudgy. Lee thought a while. ‘I'll tell you what we'll do,” he said. “‘ We'll walk to the bat- tery. We'll tell the captain we got a tractor for him, and he’ll see that we get some gas somewhere.” “IT ain’t going to bust in on no captains,” said Pudgy. “I don’t like them birds.” “All right,” said Lee. “You stay here and guard the machine, and I'll go.” “Suits me,” said Pudgy. “And while you’re gone I’ll have something to eat. It’s way past lunchtime.” He reached in his overcoat pocket, And laid out on the seat A little tin package of hard-tack And a can of monkey meat. EVENING POST Mr. and Mrs. Ted Keeler were aboard the Crescent City Limited when it pulled out of New Orleans the following night. They were headed for Belleville to make a down payment on a country paper and unt for a little frame house with a front lawn. There would be a cheap car too. They were even agreed on the make. They sat on the observation platform as the train rolled ‘slowly past the old French Market and gathered speed in the suburbs. Moss-draped forest. Moon glint on swamp water and bayou. The train at full speed, Belleville-bound. “Where did you get that stuff?” asked Lee. “Did you take it off those machine gunners like you did the gat?”’ “No,” said Pudgy, “I got this from the observation post when that lazy telephone man wasn’t looking.” “Not a bad idea,” said Lee. “I guess I'll have some too.” He grabbed himself a share of the food, And ate it rapidly; Then he hurried along the little wood road To the camp of the battery. He went to the battery post of command, Where the captain usually stayed, Deep down in a dugout which long before The obliging Germans had made. Lee walked down the steps and opened the door, And entered a damp little room, Which was feebly lit by a couple of candles Flickering through the gloom. In a corner was one of the telephone men, With a couple of telephones; At a table near by the captain sat, And beside him Lieutenant Jones. They seemed to be figuring firing data With books of tables and rules, And dividers and T squares and contour | maps And protractors and other tools. The captain was small, but a rather proud And important little guy; He raised his head and looked at Lee With a cold and hostile eye. “What do you want?” he asked. “Sir,” said Lee, “I’ve got some real news for you. The battery is short of horses 4 “T know it,” snapped the captain. “Is that all you came for——to tell me we are short of horses?” “No, sir. I started to say that we are short of horses, but it doesn’t make any difference. We've got a tractor.” “A what?” “A tractor. And it’s a regular whale of a machine. It has a swell six-cylinder mo- tor. It’ll take the place of at least eight horses. Maybe twelve. Maybe it could pull as much as twenty horses. It’s a won- der.” “IT don’t understand,” said the captain. “What is this machine? Where did it come from? Who does it belong to?” “It belongs to me,” answered Lee proudly. “‘And I’m donating it to the bat- tery.” “That's very kind of you,”’ said the cap- tain sarcastically. ‘“‘Where did you get it?” “I captured it from the Germans. I and Pudgy Monroe went over into the German lines and took it away from the Germans and brought it over here.” “You did what?” “We went over into the German lines and took this tractor away from the Ger- mans and brought it back.” “TI don’t believe it,” said the captain flatly. ‘It’s the craziest yarn I ever heard. (Continued on Page 119 ADE of special Tungsten steel, Simonds Hack Saw Blades render unfailing service on the toughest metal-cutting jobs. In the heaviest structural work—in large industrial plants where speed in production must be maintained— in thousands of workshops the country over—Simonds Hack Saw Blades do their work faster and keep their cutting edges through- out an unusually long service life. If your dealer can't supply you, _ write us. Send for booklet- “Hacksaw-ology”™. SIMONDS FILES SAWS KNIVES STEEL SIMONDS SAW AND STEEL CO, “The Saw Makers” Established 1832 Fitchburg, Mass. BRANCH OFFICES AND SERVICE SHOPS IN PRINCIPAL CITIBS

Page 118

118 THE SATURDAY ICE- and the June _Bride indeed, is the bride who starts housekeeping with a good ice re- frigerator. As commonplace as food refriger- ation might seem to be when facing the new problems of married life, few things are more important. Health and good meals are essential to hap- piness. And health and good meals are closely related. Good meals, of course, require good cooking. And good cooking demands fresh, pure, flavorful raw materials —made possible by good Ice refrigeration. Serve Ice-Freshened Foods There’s a savor and flavor to ice- freshened foods that husbands and guests are quick to notice and appreciate. Meat, vegetables, butter, milk, and eggs, even when intended for cooking, make much more delicious dishes if kept in icé-freshened air until ready for the stove. Ice helps to preserve

their best flavors and most nutritive food values. Use ICE Plentifully on Table ICE in table service is the mark of an experienced hostess. And wise is the housewife who acts on the theory that what pleases her guests will please her own family. Butter kept firm and tempting in shaved ice—celery, olives, and rad- ishes on sparkling beds of ice—fruit and sea- food cocktails served in ice-surrounded glasses —and a big bowl of cracked ice always on hand to keep table water and beverages at their best —what better way can a young wife find for making her meals most attractive! Insist on a Good Refrigerator Don’t be tricked into buying a poorly made refrigerator. It soon eats up the difference in cost in the ice it wastes. A good ice re- frigerator quickly pays for itself sggecce

= awe a . * ~ , ” +t . J » ie > ? = Y > Pa < —

EVENING POST

in the food it saves. Be sure your refrigerator is scientifically constructed to permit circulation of air—that it is well insulated, soundly built, and tightly fitted together. Keep Refrigerator Well Iced It is false economy to take ice only occasionally. It does no good to refrigerate food for a while and then let it begin to spoil. Good ice refrig- eration can keep food from depreciating, but it cannot restore depreciated food. When flavor departs for an instant, it stays away forever. A plentiful supply of ice offers a two-way saving. It melts less rapidly, and preserves foods longer. Just tell your ice man to keep your refrigerator well iced at all times. Put the responsibility up to him. There will be less ice waste, less food spoilage, and much more flavorful foods. An Ideal Wedding Gift Give the bride a good ice refrigerator—a three- times-a-day blessing for years to come. If you don’t know where to get a good refrigerator, ask your own ice company. CORO REE ER EEA E OEE E OEE OER EREEEE EE EBEEEEEEEEOREEERE BE Ee SEND FOR FREE FOLDER

May 25,1929

National Association of Ice Industries, 163 West Washington St., Chicago, Ill. Please send illustrated folder, Refrigerator Recipes. Name~ (41)

Street or Box

Town and State

Oe OOOO OE AERC EL EEER OOEEE

ee ee eee re ree eee Pee eee re er ere!

Page 119

(Continued from Page 117) Where did you get any orders to go over and take a tractor away from the Germans?” “It was just my own initiative,” said Lee. ‘Private Monroe and I was up in the observation post. We saw this tractor through the scissors instrument. We knew the battery was short of horses. So we figured it was our duty to go over and get it. There wasn’t time to ask an officer, so we just went.” “You went right through the American front line, and over into the German lines, and took the machine away from the whole German Army?” “‘ Absolutely,” said Lee. “Only it wasn’t the whole German Army. There were only two Germans with the tractor, and I poked them in the guts with my pistol and they surrendered. We took them prisoners.” “T didn’t know,” said the captain, “that the privates of this battery were armed with pistols.” “This was a revolver that I borrowed from an infantry sergeant. I gave it back to him later.” “What have you done with the prison- ers?”’ “They got away. We got shelled while we were coming across No Man’s Land, and in the excitement they got away.” “You seem to know all the answers,” said the captain. ‘‘Where is the tractor? Did that get away too?” “No,” said Lee. “I was coming to that part. We got through the lines fine, but we ran out of gas about half a mile from here in the woods. So I came along to sce if you could get us some more.” *“We have no gas here,” said the captain. “But we’ve got to have some. You could give me an order to get some some- where, couldn’t you? We've got to have some.” And Lee stood and waited hopefully For a favorable reply, But the captain only looked at him With his cold and fishy eye. And just as Lee was casting about For something further to say, Lieutenant Jones made a few remarks In g@ most disagreeable way. “Private Lee,”’ he began, ‘“‘didn’t I give you and Private Monroe orders to bury a horse up by the observation post?” “Yes, sir.” “Have you finished that job?” “Well, not entirely, sir.” “Did you even start it?” “Well, maybe not exactly, but you see we thought this other job was so much more important. We had to get the tractor—for the good of the battery.” “T see,” interrupted the captain severely. “You deliberately disobeyed orders. You left the work you had been assigned to. And you try to explain it by telling this fairy story of capturing a tractor from the Germans.” “But we really did capture this tractor,” said Lee. ‘‘Honest we did.” “That part of it is unimportant,” said the captain. “This battery has no use for a tractor anyway.” “No use for a tractor?” “This is a horse outfit. We have no gasoline, no way of taking care of a tractor. It would be more trouble than it would be worth.” “But, captain ” began Lee. “You heard what I said. I am not in- terested in tractors. But I am very much interested in seeing that you obey orders. You will return at once and complete the work given you by Lieutenant Jones. And I will tell the first sergeant that you are to be properly disciplined for your diso- bedience. That is all.” “But, captain y “That is all. You are dismissed.” So there wasn’t anything Lee could do But walk disgustedly out; He climbed to the top of the dugout stairs, And he stood for a moment in doubt. He looked toward the distant hill to the north Where Jones’ dead horse lay; Then he resolutely faced about And walked the other way. He passed the pick-and-shovel gang, Still working away like heil, Digging the holes to protect the horses From shrapnel and from shell. He headed south and continued on For a half mile through the wood, Till he came to a field by the Cunel road Where a group of buildings stood. These buildings—known as the Madeleine Farm — Had been shelled and half knocked down; Stones from the walls and tiles from the roofs Were scattered all around. The ruins were used as a sort of a dump By an ammunition train; Big motor trucks kept rolling in And rolling out again. Now, where there are trucks there is gaso- line, So Lee began looking around, And soon discovered, behind an old shed, A truck that was broken down. He was pleased to find that the tank was full, The driver was nowhere near, And a couple of rusty old tin pails Were hanging on the rear. He filled the pails with gasoline And started as fast as he could For the place where Pudgy and good old Gretchen Were waiting in the wood. On the way he had to circle around The camp of the battery; And as he passed he noticed signs Of great activity. Noncoms were running here and there He could hear them yell and shout So he left his pails and wandered over To see what the fuss was about. “What's all the excitement?” he asked one of the cannoneers. “The battery is moving out. The order just came through.” “Aha!” said Lee. “So all this foolish digging holes for horses amounts to noth- ing. When do we start?” “As soon as it begins to get dark, I sup- pose. That will be in about an hour.” “*Where are we going?” “T aon’t know. But I hear it’s over near Romagne somewhere.” “How can we move?” said Lee. “We ain’t got enough horses.” “T hear that we’re going to borrow all the A Battery horses. Then, when this outfit is moved, we all go back and move them.” “Maybe we won’t need any horses from A Battery after all,” said Lee. “What do you mean?” “Wait and see.” And Lee walked back and gathered up His pails of gasoline, And carried them off through the woods till he came To his beautiful German machine. He found old Pudgy asleep on the seat, With his helmet over one eye, And he waked him up with a poke in the face And a happy, joyful cry: ““Wake up, you big bum! We're going to start the old baby rolling.” “So the captain got you some gasoline?” asked Pudgy, very sleepy. “He did not,” said Lee. “‘I had to man- age this myself.” (Continued on Page 12!) THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Looking for a Breeze? (> yourself an R&M Fan! It stirs the listless air into a lively breeze. Spreads cool, invigorating, draughtless circulation into every hot and stifling pocket of the room. Aluminum bladed, adjustable, it delivers ‘‘a gale or a capful.”’ A fine fan, a perfect fan, the Robbins & Myers’ is the precision product of 31 years’ fan manufacture. Quiet running. Inexpensive as a small light bulb to operate. Needs no at- tention beyond an oiling once a year or so. Sturdy, to last for years. Your dealer carries the R&M. Order yours by telephone now! Robbins & Myers, Ine Springfield, O.; Brantford, Ont. I ’ , Robbins & Mvers Fans and Motors

Page 120

120 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 Heres inside information. on that SAYING. . . here’s a Reason 66 | ,

Grape-Nuts’ crisp kernels encourage chew- ing—giving teeth and gums the exercise so badly needed in this soft food era. THAT'S A REASON

Grape-Nuts is made from the most wholesome grains —ripe wheat and malted barley—and brings you the goodness of both. THAT’S A REASON

Grape-Nuts is twice baked -to make it crisp, golden- brown, easy to digest. i so 8 THAT'S ib A RE 4 SON . . And flavor . . . there’s a reason that easily tops them all! A nut-like, crispy goodness that is different . . . unique. These crunchy, golden kernels speak right up and tell you . . . “In this one dish is a breakfast banquet.” THAT’S A REASON

To keep health at the peak—Grape-Nuts, with milk or cream, supplies the varied nourishment so many menus lack Buy it today for breakfast tomorrow © 1929, P. Co. Ine THAT’S A REASON

RG OT pee or

<

Page 121

tie ee © Pa griee aha) ~~. Rr er gg meme dha ceenmepclMee oe (Continued from Page 119) “What was the matter with the cap- tain?” “Nothing, except he’s half-witted.”’ “Did you tell him about the tractor?” “I did,” said Lee. “‘I explained the whole business and I offered to bring in the ma- chine and present it to him. But it was no use. It was pearls before swine. His poor little feeble brain couldn’t seem to form no faintest conception of what it was all about. He said he didn’t want our tractor.” “So we’re going to leave it here?”’ “Leave it here nothing! I ain’t a guy that gives up as easy as that.” “But what can we do?” “We're going to run this machine down to the battery and show them how good it is. The captain is just like a little child; he can’t understand anything unless he sees it. But when he actually gets a look at this baby and finds out what it can do, he can’t help but take it.” “T ain’t so sure about that,” said Pudgy. “Maybe we're a couple of chumps to be taking all this trouble for people that don’t appreciate it.’’ “It’s our duty to do it,” said Lee. “We got to do everything we can to help win the war. Besides, when they take the tractor they’ll have to give us the job of running it. Nobody else in this livery-stable outfit would know how. We'll be relieved from all dirty work and fatigue, and we'll ride like gentlemen on these swell German cushions.” “Yeah,” said Pudgy, “you told me some- thing like that before. I hope it’s true.” “Of course it is,” said Lee. “‘ Wait till you see the sensation we make when we drive into the battery position and hook onto one of the guns. It will be the biggest day the battery has had for a long time. Their eyes will just pop out of their heads. Let’s be on our way.” And Lee took the pails of gasoline And poured them in Gretchen's tank; Then he walked around and gave a twist To Gretchen’s starting crank. The motor took hold and Lee climbed up On the seat by Pudgy Monroe, And he put her in gear and slid in the clutch, And let old Gretchen go. They rolled along the little wood road To the camp of the battery, Where they found that all the soldiers in sight Were as busy as they could be. Some of the hard-worked cannoneers Were taking the picket line down; Others were limbering up the guns And rolling their packs on the ground. Some of the drivers were hitching their nags To the kitchen and water cart; Others were getting the wagon teams Harnessed and ready to start. And trotting out in column of twos From the woods across the way Came several dozen horses and drivers, Borrowed from Battery A. “‘Swell!’’ said Lee. “‘ We got here just at the right time. Watch me hand these bozos a surprise.” He then gave Gretchen all the gas That good old Gretchen could take; The motor burst forth with the loudest noise That the motor could possibly make; And Lee drove straight through the battery camp With a glorious clatter and roar, And proudly backed old Gretchen up To the limber of Gun Number Four. He stopped with a noble clash of gears; He looked up eagerly; And there was no doubt he had handed out A surprise to the battery. THE SATURDAY For none of the horses had ever seen The like of this high-powered German ma- chine; They started to leave the neighborhood, And leave it just as fast as they could. Lee saw the team on the water cart Get under way with a leaping start And sideswipe a wagon standing near by That was used for the service of kitchen supply, And the ground was strewn with kettles and pans And goidfish and beans and tomatoes in cans; And one of the cooks, as he scrambled around And tried to pick up this stuff from the ground, Was pretty near hit and knocked on his eye By six more brutes that went galloping by. All of the horses from Battery A Whirled around in a frenzied way, And bounding along as fast as they could, Were lost to sight in the depths of the wood. Sergeants and corporals rushed about; Second lieutenants began to shout; And just as Lee was beginning to see That all was not as it ought to be, The captain came out. “What's the trouble here?” he yelled. “What do you men think you're doing? What is this machine?” “Sir,” said Lee respectfully, “‘this is the German tractor I told you about. We’re going to use it to pull this gun.” “We are not!” shouted the captain. “Didn't I tell you not to bring any tractor around here?” “Yes, sir,” admitted Lee. “But I thought—I thought perhaps maybe you didn’t know what you were talking about.” “What!” “I mean I thought you didn’t know what a fine machine this is, because you hadn't seen it. And so you would have to see it before you would know what a fine ma- chine it is. I mean, I thought 1‘ “That’s enough!” said the captain. “That will do!” “But I thought this tractor ——” “Not another word!” snapped the cap- tain. “You and your machine have prac- tically wrecked this battery. And this is the second time today you have deliberately disobeyed orders. Where is the first ser- geant?”’ The first sergeant stepped forward from a group of men gathered near by. “Here, sir,” he said. “Sergeant,” said the captain, “I want you to take charge of these two men. And fcr the next mor.th I want you to give them all the extra fatigue and hard work you can pile onto them. Make ‘em sweat. They need a lesson, and I'll expect you to give it to them.” “Trust me,” said the sergeant grimly. The captain turned back to Lee. “Stop that motor,” he said. “Yes, sir,”” said Lee. ignition. ““Come down here—both of you.” Lee and Pudgy climbed off the tractor. “From now on.”’ said the captain, ‘‘you are to leave that tractor absolutely alone. If you so much as touch it again you'll get a general court and spend the rest of your lives in Leavenworth. You understand?” “Yes, sir,”” said Lee. The captain walked away, and at once the first sergeant spoke up. “‘ Ali right, you two,”’ he said. ‘‘Get your packs rolled so you'll be ready to march. And just as soon as tonight’s hike is over, you report to me. See?”’ “Yes,” said Lee. “Yes, said Pudgy. He cut off the They both of them sorrowfully walked away; They slowly rolled their packs; And when this job was finally done They slung them on their backs. EVENING POST By now the excitement that Gretchen had caused Was pretty well quieted down; The cooks had gathered the kitchen sup- plies From off the muddy ground; The drivers had caught and brought back from the woods The horses of Battery A; And all of the wagons and carts and guns Were ready to start on their way. “TI got an idea,” said Lee, all at once. “I think we can do something with that tractor after all.” “And get ourselves sent to Leavenworth for life?” asked Pudgy. “No, this is a real good idea.” “T don’t want to hear it,” said Pudgy. “I'm through with you and your ideas. I had a feeling all along that this tractor racket was pretty sour. But I made the mistake of listening to you. And now look what a mess we're in.” “We ain't entirely licked yet.” “But we will be. That first sergeant is going to just naturally kill us with hard work and meanness.” “No,” said Lee. “ That’s just what we're going to get away from. You remember I told you there is a motorized battery down the road here a little way?” "Fea." “Those birds understand tractors. They appreciate tractors. And they ought to give us and Gretchen a job.” “Yeah?” “We can sneak down there right now and ask them. The sergeants are all too busy to notice us and stop us.” “It don’t sound good to me,” said Pudgy. “If they don’t want us we can come back,”” Lee went on. “And if the battery leaves while we're gone, we can easy enough catch up toit. We'll take our packs with us so we'll be sure to have them.” “It listens all right,” said Pudgy, “but I’ve been following your advice too much lately. From now on I’m going to be independent.” “You can’t lose on this. It won't hurt anything to ask them. But we'll have to hurty; it'll soon be getting dark. I’m going. If you don’t want to come you don’t have to. Good-by.” “Wait a minute,” said Pudgy. “Are you coming, or aren't you?” “Well,” said Pudgy, “I'll come along just to see what happens. But I ain't going to have anything to do with this motorized outfit unless I feel like it. I’m going to be independent.” “All right. Let’s get started.” So they headed south from the battery camp, Proceeding cautious and slow, Past the Madeleine Farm, and down the road For a half a mile or so, Till they reached a field beside the road, Where Lee was pleased to see An outfit of hundred-and-fifty-five Long-rifle artillery. They entered the field and passed the guns And the trucks that were standing near, And approached a fine, imposing row Of tractors at the rear. And right at the side of the nearest one Of these handsome tractors they found A group of half a dozen men, That were gathered respectfully round A hard-looking captain of very large build, With a face as tough as they come, Who was making a few remarks in a voice That was very disgusted and glum. “There’s nothing we can do with a broken crankshaft,” he said. “‘Even if we had a new one—and we haven't--it would take a couple of days to bed it in. And we move back to Blercourt tonight. We'll have to leave this tractor and one of the 121 guns behind, and come back for them to- morrow.” “If we had just one more tractor,” said a sergeant who stood beside him, “we could drag the gun and this baby too. The road is fairly good.” “Sir,” said Lee, stepping forward with a snappy salute, “if you need another trac- tor I can get you one.” “Who are you?” demanded the captain. “Where did you come from?" “Sir,” said Lee, “I am Private Curtis Augustus Lee, and this is Private Monroe We are artillery mechanics, and we got lost from our outfit a long time ago. It must have been a week ago. We've tried our best to find it, but we can’t. It must have moved to some distant part of France. So we want to join some other outfit.” “What about this tractor?” “I was coming to that, sir. You see while we were wandering around looking for our battery we found a great big Ger- man tractor that the Germans had left behind. We've got it hidden in the woods up the road a ways. And it’s just the machine you need. It's in perfect condi- tion. It’s a great, big, powerful “* “Where is it?" interrupted the big cap- tain. “I want to see it.” “T’ll show you where it is, air,”’ said Lee. “I'll drive it in here if you say so. But first I want to make a deal with you.” “You want to what?” “Make a deal with you. Before we give you the tractor we want you to promise you'll enlist us in your battery.” “I have no authority to do that. You ought to know I can't enlist you in this out- fit while you belong to another.” “Well,” said Lee nervously, “if you don’t want us you can’t have the tractor." “So that’s your game!" said the captain “Listen. I never make bargains with pri- vate soldiers—especially with military tramps like you. I am giving you a direct order—you will tell me where that tractor is. And you had better tell me quick.” “I’m sorry, sir,”” said Lee, scared but stubborn,“ but I seem to forget now where it was we left it.” At this, that big tough captain scowled And glared at poor little Lee; Then he curled his ugly lip in a grin That wasn’t so nice to see; And slowly he turned around and spoke To the sergeant standing near In a hard-boiled military voice That wasn't so nice to hear “Sergeant, these men are A. W. ©. L. from their outfit. You will take them down to the crossroads south of here and turn them over to the M. P.’s. You have your revolver?” “Yes, sir.” “If they try to get away shoot ‘em. But if they should happen to remember where that tractor is, you can take them over and have them drive it in here. And if it’s any good we'll be generous to them. Instead of handing them over to the M. P.’s, we'll give them a good kick in the tail and let them go.” “Yes, sir,”” said the sergeant He gave a shove to Pudgy Monroe, And another shove to Lee, And started to hustle them down the road In search of the nearest M.P And as poor old Pudgy wabbied along, As mournful as could be He started in to reason a bit With Curtis Augustus Lee “I don’t like this idea of getting turned over to these military police,” he whis- pered; “‘I don’t trust them guys. I think we better tell this sergeant where the tractor is.” “Hell, no!" said Lee. “If we lose that tractor we lose the one thing that might help us get a good job somewhere. There must be other outfits that would want us and our machine.” (Continued on Page 124

Page 122

FOR years and years, visitors to Canada had come back with tales of a wonderful beverage—a ginger ale. They described its exquisite flavor... they told of drink- ing it in the Houses of Parliament at Ottawa ... at the residence of the Gov- ernor-General .. . at the Royal Canadian Yacht Club. “A ‘dry’ ginger ale,”’ some said. “A bouquet like a rare old wine,” was the comment of others. “A subtle ginger taste which is delightful and deli- cious,” still others would add. And friends would listen, smacking their lips, and ask, “‘Isn’t there some way to buy this ginger ale in this country?” But the answer was always, “No.” Its marvelous flavor has won it world-wide approval Finally, so insistent became the demand, that it was decided to open a branch office in the United States, and so, in 1922, “Canada Dry” was officially brought to this country. This was the beginning of a romantic commercial story. Today — 1929 — “Canada Dry”’ is known the wide world over. It has the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST : Down from Canada came May 25,1929 ‘lales of a approving nod of con- noisseurs — from New York to Paris, to Calcutta and Shanghai—the fame of “Canada Dry” literally encircles the world. The hot sunlight beats down ‘in the dry air of Cairo, and before you in a quaint shop window are piled the familiar green and gold bottles of “Canada Dry.” .. . With a whoosh and bang the giant liner slams through the raging North Atlantic seas and in the smoking room American and Britisher sit over their bottles of on the Bay of Monterey a waiter brings you “Canada Dry.” . . . The click of switch points sounds in your ears as the crack 20-hour train speeds across the coun- try towards Chicago, and there before you on the table of the dining-car is this “Canada Dry,” trading tales of Em- pire against Empire, politics against politics, London against New York. . Before you lies the clear blue of the restless Pacific and as you sit on the veranda of the hotel which looks This is the convenient Hostess Package of 12 bottles. Buy “Canada Dry” this way and you always have plenty on hand . . . when unexpected guests run in . «. « for the impromptu picnic . . . when you go motoring. ——e—

Page 123

———r THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 123 Wonderful Beverage For Memorial Day And whatever outing you plan over the holi day, take along “ Canada Dry.” Its keen vigor adds zest to the picnic. Its refreshing quality quenches your thirst. And remember that the Hostess Package of 12 bottles is a convenient way to carry it in your car. r r ’ ginger contributes to its wonderful flavor. It is blended and balanced with care. Exact proportions prevail fine old ginger ale. . . . These are but a few places where “Canada Dry”’ is served. In that delightful milieu of country house or place in town . . . among those people who want perfection . . . there, too, you will find “Canada Dry.” And it makes its quality quietly felt like the aristocrat it is With that quiet assurance which precedes a successful dinner, the hostess gives one last glance at her table before the guests arrive. Silver winks in the candlelight. Dull sparkles of gold gleam from the china. A hundred repeated little reflec- tions move brightly in the glassware. And in the serving pantry the “Canada Dry”’ is carefully packed in buckets of ice, cooling against the time when it will bubble crystal clear among its perfect surroundings. You will find this fine old beverage in great hotels, too, and from one end of this country to the other countless homes serve “Canada Dry.” Such universal appeal as this must have some reason. And that reason is not far to seek, for the distinction and quality of this marvelous beverage begin with basic excellence. Absolutely pure ingredients are used in “Canada Dry.” High-quality Jamaica and hourly check-ups prevent varia- tion from these proportions. A_ secret process of carbonation enables “Canada Dry” to retain its sparkle long after the bottle is opened. The purity of ‘Canada Dry”’ contributes to its distinction Because of its purity, leading hospitals serve it and leading physicians prescribe it. In the witchery of its flavor, in the lure and subtlety of its bouquet, “Can. ada Dry” is indeed the champagne of ginger ales. ‘CANADA DRY* The Champagne of Ginger Ales © 1929

Page 124

Theres the Culprit thal Ruined Mg Party 6C¥ZES, there's that infernal old fold- ing table that had to break down and spill Mrs. Everett's salad all over her dress. Spoiled my party and em- barrassed me almost to tears. I've threatened time and again to burn that id cripple—but I had to use it just mee more and now see what it’s done. Serves me right, perhaps, for trying to get by with cheap tables. The way I've hung on to them, one would think that folding tables were priceless. Well, | don’t need this to happen twice to cure me. Tomorrow we get some new I must ask Helen where she bought hers. They always are so sturdy and rigid—and they look so beautiful that it's a shame they have to be folded up and put away after a party. She said they werent expensive, either. Seems to me the name was Carrom—yes, that’s it and tomorrow we'll have some of our own.” tables LUDINGTON, MICHIGAN F OLDING TABLES AND FOLDING CHAIRS TO MATCH At Home With Fine Furniture THE SATURDAY (Centinued from Page 121) ‘*But how can we look for a job if this bozo turns us over to the M.P.’s?” “Not so loud!” whispered Lee. “If we watch our chance, maybe we can give him the slip. Maybe we can get away.” “Suppose we can’t?” “We'll have to see what we can do. That's our only chance.” So, as long as there seemed to be no point In arguing with Lee, Pudgy began to consider just what Their chance of escape might be. He glanced at the sergeant who walked behind, And he noticed the sergeant’s gun, And decided there was no use at all In trying to break and run. So he stopped and turned himself around, Paying no attention to Lee, And boldly started out to talk And act independently. “‘Sergeant,”’ he announced, “if you want to know where that tractor is I'll show you. “All right,” said the sergeant. ‘‘ Which way do we go?” “We turn right around and go up the road the other way.” ““Pudgy,” said Lee, with horror in his voice, “you ain’t going to give away our beautiful machine?” “Sure I am.” “If you do, you'll be sorry. The first chance I get I'll beat your ugly face into a jelly. I’'li ——” “Shut up there, you!” said the sergeant. Lee shut up. “All right,” said Pudgy. “‘Let’s be on our way.” So they started up the road to the north, And Lee didn’t say any more; EVENING POST He walked along with his head hanging down, Mad and disgusted and sore. They went on past the Madeleine Farm, Till they saw, in the woods on their right, The shape of old Gretchen looming up In the fading evening light. They crossed the ground where Battery B Had had its camp that day; It now was quiet, for Battery B Had already marched away. “Which one of you guys is going to drive this tractor?’’ asked the sergeant. “I might as well,” said Lee. “I'll get one last ride anyway.” So he cranked her up, and they all got aboard, And he drove majestically Along the road until they came To the motorized battery. And here they saw, through the gathering gloom, And the twilight’s misty gray, That the outfit was limbered and out on the road, And ready to move away. They stopped by a big supply truck For some extra gasoline; Then they left the road and drove through the field, And hitched their German machine To the tractor whose crank shaft was broken; And behind this they hitched a gun— A great big split-trail G. P. F. That weighed at least ten ton. And Gretchen snorted, and Gretchen heaved, And dragged that tremendous load May 25,1929 Slowly and steadily over the field And out to the side of the road. And then, as Lee threw out the clutch, And idled the motor down, The hard-boiled captain came striding up, With his usual hard-boiled frown. “Come down off that tractor,”’ he com- manded. Pudgy and Lee came down. “You two bums,” he continued, “have brought in a machine that seems to be pretty good.” “It sure is,” said Lee. “It’s powerful and ——” “Shut up,” said the captain. “As I told you before, I have no authority to enlist you in my command. But I’m going to make you stay with us anyway. I want you to drive that tractor. In a week or two, as soon as I have time, I'll take it up with division headquarters and try to get you officially transferred. In the mean- time you'll both be treated as regular mem- bers of this outfit. And that means you won't pull any more of that Smart Aleck stuff and you won’t give me any more back- talk. Understand?” “We do,” said Lee. “Then get to hell back on that tractor. The battery is moving right out. You'll follow that last truck there.”’ “TI hope,” said Pudgy to Lee as they climbed onto the seat—‘‘I hope you ain’t sore. In case you're hungry, here is some more of that hard-tack I stole. I hope you ain’t still figuring on beating my face to jelly.” “Well,” said Lee, “sometimes, just by ac- cident, you seem to do something that turns out all right. Give me some of that food.” And they opened up the hard-tack, And they each took a healthy bite, And settling back on the wonderful cushions, They rolled away through the night. THE DARKEST HORSE “Give me a hand up, Gerald,” he said. “‘ Adele— Adele, so this is where you've led me!” And then I knew what I had suspected — that there was a lady in the case. That was why Mr. Richard had come out in those boots and breeches. “Adele,” said Mr. Richard, “thank heaven, you can’t see me now. That isn’t a horse. He's a greased pig at the fair!” “All right, sir,” I said, and got him by the arm. “Here he is, sir. Get up on him again.” Mr. Richard wiped some mud from his face and looked at me and blinked his eyes. “Are you crazy?” he said. “But you’ve got to get up on him again, sir,” I told him. “When you get thrown you've got to get right on; especially when you're beginning, sir.” And that was the truth; as you know as well as I. It don’t matter how many times you fall, as long as you mount again. But here’s the odd thing about itso odd I couldn't believe my eyes, so odd it hardly seems right to tell of it. Mr. Richard didn’t want to mount. For asecond I couldn’t believe it of Mr. Richard, having known him so long. Mr. Richard was afraid to get up on that hunter again. It gave me an odd sensation, for all at once I knew something I had never guessed before--that I was a better man than Mr. Richard; in one way, at any rate. One doesn’t refuse to mount, you know, when one is able. “Jerry,” said Mr. Richard, and his face was white, “you come with me to the library. I want to talk to you. I guess you're right; I never will know horses.” I hate to say it; I hate to think of Mr. Richard acting up like that. “Jerry,” said Mr. Richard, and he opened a little cupboard in the wall, “will you have a drink?” (Centinued from Page i!) “No, thank you, sir,” I said. “I never drink or smoke.” “Oh, so?” said Mr. Richard. “I'd for- gotten about that. Well, you can sit down anyway.” Mr. Richard kept walking up and down the library, limping a bit, too, because he must have hurt himself when he went off. “T’ll bet,” said Mr. Richard, “I know what you're thinking.” “Do you, sir?” I said. “Cut out the ‘sir’ stuff,” said Mr. Rich- ard. “Nobody can hear us in here. You’re thinking I’m ten differént kinds of fool to buy a place here, where I don’t know any- body and all anybody talks about is horses or drag hunts or fox hunts, and even the kids race little ponies.” “It’s what I told you.” I had to sigh when I said it. ‘‘ You—you’re not the kind, that’s all.” “IT wish you’d stop your croaking,” said Mr. Richard. Mr. Richard limped another turn around the library, and when he lighted his ciga- rette he made a face. Mr. Richard had bought the old Colonel McWilliams place, furniture and cellar. It was a fine place, an old brick house with wings and L’s and dormers added. The library was books all to the ceiling, and where there weren’t books were crops and whips and hunting prints. They were good ones, too, of hounds all in a white blanket across the fields, and of gentlemen in pink behind them. Mr. Richard had not changed anything in the library, so that it was odd to see him limp- ing about among all those horsy articles that had belonged to someone else. “Jerry,” said Mr. Richard after a while, “TI can talk to you more easily than I can to lots. We were in the same boat once.” I knew that he meant I was in the same boat still, now that he was in a different one. I shouldn't have minded if he had mounted up again out there in the paddock, ae made me hot under the collar then. it did. “Jerry,” said Mr. Richard, “have you ever been afraid of being poor? I’ve al- ways hated poverty like poison. The fear of it used to be in my blood when I first knew you, Jerry. I used to wake up at night saying to myself, ‘You mustn’t be poor, Dick. You’ve got to run at the head of the bunch before you’re through.’ Per- haps you know how it gets, when you have something on your mind and you’re lonely. I was thinking about it one night all alone in one of those jerk-water hotels in Texas, Jerry, while I was looking at pictures in the Sunday rotogravure section—only half looking. Then all at once I saw a girl look- ing at me out of the page. I must have had my eyes on her for a long while without noticing, but all at once her face came into my mind as though it had never been a picture. Have you ever done that, Jerry? Just seen a girl’s face in a picture and then all at once felt you knew her? I can’t de- scribe it; it sounds as cheap as an illus- trated song.”” Mr. Richard took another turn around the room, as though he couldn’t sit still, and took another cigarette, throw- ing the one he was already smoking on the floor. “And at that,” said Mr. Richard, “‘it’s like one song I know. Do you remember it? “ Never a word and never a look has passed be- tween me and John; He saw my face in a picture book with all of my best things on. “When I saw her in that picture, it was like seeing stars—a million of ’em—up in the Milky Way. And I stood up and looked at the dirty paper on the wall and I said to myself —it sounds cheap, when I say it, but (Continued on Page 126)

Page 125

eiedTeea ig cates elened lh seine deat ui ais ora ee wailed She, Ree ORE SiG MOA EES: THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 4300 business men sell the products of THE ‘NATIONAL (ASH ‘KEGISTER COMPANY E SOMETIMES feel that the finest products We The National Cash Register Company are the men who represent us all over the world. There are many salesmen, but from the thou- sands who apply to us each year only a few measure up to the standards this organization requires in its representatives. They come from every line of business. And they carry back into their former fields the National Cash Register mes- sage of protection, economy, information and service. There are more than 4800 of these men in all parts of the world. Every man of them has learned to search out the business losses that spring from carelessness, lack of information, and temptation. Every man of them understands to the last detail how National Cash Register products stop these losses. Our representative who calls on you does so in the sincere belief that the proper National Cash Register equipment will protect and increase your profits. He is an expert on efficient business machinery, and its application to modern business problems. You will find him intelligent, courteous, and eager to serve. For only through service rendered—money saved—can he hope to succeed. THE NATIONAL CASH REGISTER COMPANY DAYTON, OHIO, AND PRINCIPAL CITIES THROUGHOUT THE WORLD Modern machine systems for every business, priced from $60 up in the U. S. A.

Page 126

THE SATURDAY Vaseline TONIC HAIR. A liquid preparation for Preserving and Testonng the strength aud beauty of the haw. New York.USA. Mien have 3} Common sealp troubles... If your scalp and hair are very dry {rnost men com~- plain of this), use a tiny bit of “ Vaseline” Hair Tonic every day as a dressing in piace of water. If your hair is falling, giwe yourself a thorough massage with ” Vaseline” Hair Tonic before each sham poo Use the rotary motion of the fingers and massage till the scalp feels loose and tingly. If you have a severe case of dandruff you need a doctor For ordinary scaly scalp, massage with “Vaseline” Hair Tonic as we have described above. Vaseline REG. U. S. PAT. OFF. RACTICALLY every man you meet has one or more of three com- mon scalp troubles—dry scalp, falling hair, or dandruff. Frequently they go together, or one results from the other. And the only way to bring about an improvement is to see to the health of your scalp. Regular and frequent massage with “Vaseline” Hair Tonic will do a lot for an unhealthy scalp. It will cleanse and open the pores, free them from clogging impu- rities. It will nortaalize the flow of natural scalp oil which is essential to the life of the hair. And it will stimulate the blood circu’ lation of the scalp and thus increase the food supply for the hair roots. Get a bottle of “ Vaseline” Hair Tonic today from any druggist. In two con- venient sizes with a shaker type top. Use it and keep it up faith- fully. You will see improvement. © Chesebrough Mfg. Co. Cons'd. 1929 HAIR TONIC EVENING POST (Continued from Page 124) it wasn’t then—‘Adele,’ I said, ‘you’re the girl for me.’”’ Right while he was speaking, Mr. Rich- ard threw his second cigarette away and opened the drawer of the writing desk. “Here, you can see her for yourself. There’s the first picture, and there are all the rest.”” There must have been a dozen pictures he handed me, all cut out of Sunday sup- plements and magazines. The first was a girl who couldn’t have been more than ris- ing fifteen, in one of those junior horse shows, putting her pony over a three-bar fence. “Adele Miltoun,” I read—all in that flashy way that writers have‘ Another generation of Miltouns clears the bars.” She was a good looker, dark and slender, with a thin face, something like Mr. Rich- ard’s, with such a look on it as Mr. Richard sometimes had — as though she’d take that fence if there was a twenty-foot drop below. Then there were other pictures. There was one at Palm Beach and one at the polo match and one at the Grand National and lots of her in the saddle. There were pic- tures of her smiling, pictures of her looking annoyed that her picture was being taken, the way a real lady will look. “No title good enough for her,” one picture read. “‘Adele Miltoun, whose en- gagement to Lord Mountclyde is reported off.” She was the girl to say a thing or two to Lord Mountclyde, as: you could see. She had class to her, as they say down at the track; all nerve and mettle, even in a picture. “Well,” said Mr. Richard, “she lives five miles down the road. That’s why I’m here.” That girl, without ever knowing, had driven Mr. Richard over the hedge, into where he was. “Yes,” said Mr. Richard, “that’s why I’m here. I’m taking a shot at the moon. Everybody has to take a shot at some- thing sometime.” “Have you ever seen her?” I said. “No,” said Mr. Richard, and laughed in ashort way. “No one I've ever known till lately knows anyone like Adele. But she’ll be at that drag hunt tomorrow.” So that was what he wanted, and Mr. Richard had thought it would be as easy as making money. “Frankly,” said Mr. Richard, “it isn’t any cinch—getting to know this riding cetowd—but they'll know me before I’m through. Mr. Van Tweed, whomI met downtown, got me asked. He won't be there himself, but he told me to ride to the club. That’s how these things begin, and she'll be there.’ “Dick,” I said, “you can’t ride in that drag hunt—never in the world.” Mr. Richard threw another cigarette on the floor, regardless of the rug. ‘Don’t I know?” he asked, and set his teeth to- gether. Though it is hardly my place to say I was glad, it did please me to see Mr. Richard stumped for once. I didn't tell him, for it was not my place; but there was never a chance that anyone like Miss Adele Mil- toun would look twice at the likes of him, no matter if the Royalls were all right. Though I did not know Miss Miltoun or any ladies and gentlemen at Mountain Pond, their kind had given me my bread and butter. No young lady like Miss Mil- toun would say a civil word to Mr. Richard, if she had seen him in the paddock not half an hour before. “Dick,” I told him, “I'd forget about it if I was you.” “Yes,”’ said Mr. Richard, “I know you would. But I’m going to show in that drag hunt tomorrow or I'll eat my hat. And that’s where you horn in.” “What?” I said. “Me?” “Jerry,”’ said Mr. Richard, “ you’re new in this place. Do you know anybody here?”’ “No,” I said, not guessing what he meant. ” May 25, 1929 “All right!” said Mr. Richard, and com- mencedtogrin. “Then we'll take a chance.” “A chance on what?”’ I said. “A chance on your riding instead of me,” said Mr. Richard. ‘No one knows me either, except Mr. Van Tweed, and he won’t be there.” “Who?” I said. “Me?” Something commenced to buzz in my ears and I felt very odd all over. ““What’s the matter?” said Mr. Rich- ard. ‘‘Can’t you do it?” Couldn’t I do it? Couldn’t I jump a three-thousand-dollar hunter over a few fences with ladies and gentlemen— me, who had ridden after hunts since I was a kid and been a steeplechase jockey and exer- cised gentlemen’s hunters for fifteen years over all sorts of country? “Yes,” I said, “I could do it.” “Well,” said Mr. Richard, and his voice grew loud, as it always did when he got excited, ‘“‘don’t you see the point? You wear my clothes and ride in my place. No one will know the difference. The horse will be sent over to the club. I'll take you over in the car. When it’s over you ride back to a mile from here, and I’ll be wait- ing and you give me your coat. Noone will know I didn’t ride and, don’t you see, it will give me the entrée here? I’ll fix it so I won’t have to ride again.” “So you want me to be you?” I said, still feeling very odd. “Yes,”” said Mr. Richard, “that’s ex- actly it.” “Dick,” I said, and shook my head, “‘it wouldn’t be right. It isn’t my place. That’s all.” “Oh, fiddlesticks with your place!”’ said Mr. Richard. “I’m giving you my place. You can do a favor for your friend, can’t you? Jerry, I’m only asking you this once.”” Mr. Richard had a way with him, he had. Already I could feel myself giving in, though I didn’t like it. But maybe, now, I did like it when all was said and done. It was a chance to ride like a gentle- man and, perhaps, every stableman has wanted to ride as a gentleman just for once. “T tell you,” I said again, “it wouldn’t be right.” “Dishwater!”’ said Mr. Richard. “I’ll take the responsibility about its being right. Let’s go upstairs and try my coat and breeches.” It appears to me, without knowing much about it, that anyone who gets on in the world makes use of others to do it. Mr. Richard had done so before, I have no doubt. He had done so, I know, with that gentleman Van Tweed, whose name he mentioned, and now he was doing it with me in a way that made me guess how he must have made his money. Upstairs in Mr. Richard’s dressing room, all circled with mirrors and clothes closets, I still was hot under the collar; for I knew it wasn’t right, being cheating more than sportsmanship, even though Mr. Richard couldn't see it. His riding clothes, all of them new, fitted me wonderful, as though they had been made for me and not for him. Why, looking in the glass, I seemed like a first-class toff. “Jerry,” I said to myself, ‘you're better in ‘em than he is, even if it isn’t right for you to wear 'em.” “Why, hang it,”’ said Mr. Richard, “it might as well be me, when you get up on that Sir Hubert plug tomorrow.” It wasn’t right, Mr. Richard calling Sir Hubert a plug. I can shut my eyes right now and in front of me will come every horse I’ve ever rode, and I know their dams and sires. They seem clearer than the years I’ve lived, and Sir Hubert was as good as any of them. He came of both racing and hunting stock, which was his only trouble. When the run got started it was hard keeping Sir Hubert behind the hounds, and he hated heavy hands. It was exactly the way Mr. Richard said~-nobody knew either of us up at the Triple Oaks Club that morning. Sir Hubert had been hacked up there the day before and the club grooms had got him saddled. (Continued on Page 128) —s eee Pepe ae ta oer. NOES et ——— zt —— + Oy arcane. 8 oaahesire 5 pigcaay dai Pl

Page 127

—<—<—— concmgcere ier a — ——- <= ~ se , { nf yi ‘ Le eS } = 3 i nf f - é + 2 — ae eee te eer ee

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

Colorful Upson Fibre Tile renews and glorifies old baths and kitchens Cotor is the vogue in the smart home of today! Joyous and alluring color can make any room in the home more livable and more lovable. Fortunately, whether your home be o/d or new, you may enjoy the satisfying charm of modern color. Simply have your carpenter apply Upson Fibre- Tile right over the wainscot or cracked plaster in bath or kitchen . . . laundry or nursery. Or direct to studs in new construction. Then paint or enamel in some desired color to carry out a cherished color scheme . . . and you have the desirable texture and appearance of col- ored ceramic tile at about one-tenth the cost. Upson Board on the upper walls and ceilings in soft, harmonizing colors can fittingly complete a room of distinctive and alluring beauty. Quick... Easy... Economical There is /ittle muss, dirt or delay in Upsonizing. Best of all, Upsonized walls and ceilings never crack or fall. They may easily be kept clean and fresh by wiping with a damp cloth. And the Up- sonized home is also easier to sell or rent. Both Upson Board and Upson Fibre-Tile excel in resistance to jars, blows, heat, cold, moisture . . . even ordinary leaks . . . as compared with needlessly heavy and brittle boards Cracked, shabby Plaster is a Blow at Self-respect Nearly every home has at least one room that is a source of constant embarrassment . . . into which you hesitate to take friends or guests. Yet, neither the home owner nor the house- wife can be blamed for dreading the seeping dust and irritating delay of RE-plastering Upsonizing is the modern answer. It is clean and quick. It can endow any room with charac- terful personality . . . your personality if you wish Try Upsonizing just one room. Then you will want Upson Board all through the house, as have tens of thousands of home owners all over the country.

‘DiscrMINATING lumber dealers everywhere . . This dainty bathroom is just a typical example of the magic of Upsonizing. The shabby cracked plaster is there not see it because it is forever covered with the smooth, sturdy panels of Upson Board and Upson Fibre-Tile UPSON BOARD who value their reputation sel) and recommend Upson Products. They place customer satisfaction above mere profit nn Nl i but you can The Upson Studios have helped thousands of home owners to obtain characterful and dis- Gpsom ; tinctive interiors in both old and new homes. They would be glad to help you too. We invite wa — ete you to mail the coupon checking the subject that interests you Address

Kitchen, nursery and laundry, too, can be transformed in like man- ner. Unsightly ceilings especially are everywhere being made dis- tinctive. The new Upson Relief Treatment brings the beauty of hand modeled plaster within the reach of every home owner and FIBRE TILE THE UPSON COMPANY, 509 Upson Point, Lockport, N. Y.: Enclosed find ro cents, for which please seod me copy of y ‘new booklet, “Characterful Walls and Ceilings,"’ samples of Upson Board and Upson Pibre-Tile and details orative Service. | am interested in C) NEW CEILINGS sid

OFFICE INTERIORS TILING © 1929, The Upson Company, Lockport, New York

” your cew Dex

Page 128

at THE SATURDAY EVENING POST How long are oS your ofhice hours? Convenient equipment can speed them fast ... while poor equipment makes them drag HE COLD, drab office is fast becoming a memory. Business men today think of the well-fur- nished office as a good investment. You spend half your waking time there. It should be up-to-date, comfortable .. . ter work. 4 place for bet- It can be, with the pleasant sur- roundings of modern Art Metal Equipment. Smart, good to look at. ..this office furniture. And designed with a knowledge of mod- ern business needs. Planned for efficiency ..to work smoothly to eliminate irritation and speed routine. Whatever your needs, Art Metal can fill them. Desks for executive or staff; fire safes of permanent, pre-tested protection; files for every possible requirement; shely- ing; any office piece, even the partition in the office above... designed by engineers with forty years’ experience . . . executed by O Desks O Plan Files () Fire Safes © Shelving master craftsmen and reasonably priced. Best of all, first cost is last, since steel does not splinter, break or warp—and steel reduces fire hazard. See this attractive furniture and equipment finished with special enamels in natural wood grains or rich olive green. See the wide variety of price and line . . . the most diversified line in the world. On display in over 500 cities. Write for beautiful color booklet of office interiors . . . free "Equipping the Modern Office” is illus- trated with paintings by Lurelle Van Ardsdale Guild, widely known New York Decorator. They suggest a few of the pleasing and practical office interiors that may be achieved through the use of Art Metal Equipment. We shall be glad to send you a copy along with any of the catalogs listed below. Just write, men- tioning the ones you wish. Art Metal Construction Co., Jamestown, N. Y. } Horizontal Sectional Files Postindex Visible Files Upright Unit Files Counter Height Files o000 STEEL OFFICE EQUIPMENT ' (Continued from Page 126) Mr. Richard had carried matters further than I thought he would, since he had on a sort of chauffeur’s uniform, and I was ina handsome woolly overcoat and riding crop and spurs. The Triple Oaks Club was one of those long, low buildings that have every kind of outdoor sport—a golf course, a polo field, tennis courts, and I don’t know what. Mr. Richard wasn’t so used to such places as I was, and I could see him looking it up and down as he parked the car. Up by the clubhouse steps were two depot wagons full of hounds. The huntsman was mounted | and the bag boy had already gone. “Pull your cap over your eyes,” said Mr. | Richard. “And —— Jerry, look!” Allat once he got a hold on my arm and I felt his hand was shaking. ‘“‘ There she is—on that big black horse.” Already a number of the ladies and gen- tlemen had mounted up, and I saw her. She was up on a thumping big Roman- nosed brute, thin as a whip, and dark, with high color in her face; saying a word now and then, neat and sharp. “‘Gad,” whispered Mr. Richard, “isn’t she the finest ever?” I don’t know whether she was beautiful or not, but she was the kind who wouldn’t pull or wait. “Get out,” I said. fetch Sir Hubert.” “Who?” said Mr. Richard. *‘Me?” “Yes,” I said, “you. Tell’em to lead him out here to the car. I’m the gentleman to- day.” I don’t know how it was, but my heart began to go thump, thump, for now I was started I felt I was exactly like all those toffs I’d ridden behind and looked at from the stable doors. “Keep your hat over your eyes,” whis- pered Mr. Richard. “I'll be waiting. Don’t talk too much and nobody’!l know.” We went down the road maybe a mile before we cut into a field. Everybody was chatting and laughing, but no one had a word for me, which was what you'd expect, being a perfect stranger. When once Miss Miltoun looked back over her shoulder I felt her dark eyes on me, cold and distant, and I pulled my cap over my face some more. They threw in at a clump of woods and, knowing that the bag boy would come out the easiest way, I edged Sir Hubert out of the crowd, so that I was right up in front of them when the run began. Though it was only a drag hunt, my heart was thumping. They may not have known me when I started, but they did before I'd finished; since it takes more than boots and money to make a rider. Though, mind you, it’s the horse I’m thinking of cll the time, so that I don’t believe in skylarking, still I ride straight. First, we came to stone walls, and Sir Hubert took them easy; then a brook; then a couple of snake fences. The take-offs weren't so good at those fences, but they were good enough for him and me. We were out ahead of the poor ones right away. We swung through an apple orchard and went splashing through a swamp, where I got a clod of mud in the face. You couldn’t have told me from Mr. Richard after that. Then, pretty soon, who should I see right beside me but Miss Adele Mil- toun. Since she was Mr. Richard’s girl, I didn’t want her near me, since she might find out. I didn’t want her too near and I tried to draw away, but she was right beside me on that Roman nose. Pretty soon she smiled, white teeth and flashing eyes. “Nice morning, isn’t it?” she called. I didn’t answer, but gave Sir Hubert a touch of spur. “Think you’ve got a horse, do you?” called Miss Miltoun. I didn’t answer, but tried to draw away; though I knew it wasn’t manners. We were coming to a gate—-the kind you open from the saddle. As I was drawing up, that girl | went past me and cleared the gate as nice | as could be. “And tell ‘em to May 25,1929 “There!”’ she hollered to me. “ Let’s see you do that!” I did it, though it wasn’t right—going at such a gate when you could open it. And then we rode some more without either of us speaking; but she could ride, that girl could. It made me forget who I was and who she was, just to see her go. I don’t know how, unless the hoof beats did it and the wind on my face, but it seemed that she and I were riding all alone. When we came up to the bag boy—she and I—it seemed to me that something fine was over. It was like the story where the rats pull away the pumpkin coach when the clock strikes twelve. I turned about fast, as though I was in a hurry, and started off for home; but it seemed to me that everyone was looking at me in a different way. “Who was that?” It was her I heard asking. “It’s that Mr. Royall,” someone said, “who bought the McWilliams farm.” And someone else said, though I wasn’t meant to hear: “‘He’s probably hurrying back to the telephone before the market opens.” “T don’t care’’—it was her voice again— “he’s a rider just the same.” Back in the harness room I still seemed in a sort of haze, as though I was riding in a race. “Jerry,” I kept saying to myself, “you know it isn’t right.” Yet I still seemed to be riding—I couldn’t get it out of my head—with that thin dark girl on the right of me, with high color in her face and her teeth white as she smiled. Mr. Richard found me sitting all alone with Sir Hubert’s bridle in my hand, and if you had asked me, f couldn’t have told what I had been thinking. Exactly like a kid, Mr. Richard was, who gets a gold star at school. “It worked!” said Mr. Richard, giving the door a slam. “What worked?” I asked him. “Jerry,” said Mr. Richard, “you may be glum and you may not smoke or drink, but I’ll never forget what you’ve done. Jerry, aren’t you listening? The Miltouns have asked me to dinner. She—aren’t you listening, Jerry?—she called up herself and asked me.” I don’t know what I said. I’ll never really know, for all at once it was as though the ground came up and hit me; for it was me she was asking to dinner that night. It was me she had called up on the telephone, not Mr. Richard Royall—in spite of his having bought a stable just to please her. I wondered what Mr. Richard would do when he found it out; for, as I said, it wasn’t right. The next morning, as soon as Mr. Rich- ard sent for me, I knew that he’d found out, since Mr. Richard wasn’t anybody’s fool. I could tell, when he closed the library door, that his dinner wasn’t all it might have been. “Jerry,” he asked, “what did you say to her yesterday?” “I didn’t say a word,” I told him—which was true. “You wouldn’t,” said Mr. Richard with a sort of groan. “You wouldn’t drink or smoke.” ““What’s up now?” I asked him. But I knew what before he told me. Mr. Rich- ard was taking on at a terrible rate, walking up and down that librery and rumpling up his hair. “Confound it!” groaned Mr. Richard. “Jerry, I didn’t know it would be like this. I—I made love to her last night. I couldn’t help it. She was—-— Anyway, I couldn’t help it and she let me. She let me because she thought that I was you.” Now wasn’t that enough to give you a turn? I felt the floor go sort of soft under me; I felt my mouth go dry. “Do you mind,” I said—‘“‘do you mind if I sit down?” And I went blump into a chair as if somebody had hit me. “I told her”—Mr. Richard sounded all hoarse and broken—‘“‘I told her about the pictures. I told her about everything, but (Continued on Page 130) ere a Eg I ae ee

Page 129

; ' ii ’ ! bi Ht = ae mere em THE SATURDAY EVENING POST EW LOW PRICES HAVE ENABLED THOUSANDS MORE TO ENJOY A/R-COOLED MOTORING Franklin sales are increasing faster than any other fine car’s. For Franklin has been progressive built the finest quality cars—created distinguished beauty which makes it smart to own a Franklin—introduced remarkable performance that is capturing America’s major road records—and now with new low prices has established maximum value. The 1929 line of Franklins was announced at prices $600 iower than previous Franklins of similar type. Sales sky- rocketed! In the first quarter, sales were more than 200% of the same period of 1928. This increased business has continued — today it is easily seen that 1929 is by far the greatest year Franklin has ever known. Thousands of Franklin Owners are urging you to try the new Franklin. To marvel at its quiet-as-high second gear even at fifty-five miles an hour. To zoom over hills—as a plane zooms over the clouds. To accelerate around the car ahead—with the flash of a thoroughbred. And to experi ence the famous airplane feel — possible only through the driving ease and sustained power of an air-cooled car. FRANKLIN AUTOMOBILE COMPANY SYRACUSE N. Y PRAN OX The One= Thirt y Se1i80 * + # The One-Thirty-Five $2485 a 5 ro y me j f r The Lne- Thirty «Seven, 32775 sf Sedan prices f, 0, 0, factory

Page 130

130 THE SATURDAY “But we still have each other, Dear!”’ Fine! Lovely! Davey Jones may now take the pretty mer- maids for joy rides in your roadster, while you still have each other to battle over the question of where lies the responsibility for not having Rusco lining on your brakes. Holds in wet weather as well as in dry Rusco Brake Lining is treated witha special secret compound, so that water has no effect on its efficiency. Tosecure this addi- tional safety feature, repair men pay more for Rusco than for ordinary lining, although they do not charge you any more. Your brakes are constantly subjected to tremendous strains. To keep them fit they need frequent attention. Have them inspected free at least once a month at the nearest Rusco Brake Service Station, where trained experts use special mechanical equipment to test, adjust or reline your brakes with scientific precision. When they pronounce your brakes okay, you'll know what good brakes are. Always ready to stop your car quicker. Al- ways safe and sure in any kind of weather. Send for free booklet. The Russell Manufacturing Co., Middletown, Conn. In Canada, The Russell Manufacturing Co., Ltd., St. Johns, Quebec. Other Rusco Products: Rusco-Ace Brake Lining, Benlock Brake Lining, Durak Brakeshoe Liners, Transmission Linings for Fords, Clutch Facings and Fan Belts for all cars. Hood Lacing, Tire Straps and Towing Lines; class yee B oe a | Belting for Power Transmission, Elevating and Con- veying, Tractor Belts. y 7 Rusco Aero Products— Aero Rings, Shock Cord, Airplane Fabrics, Safety Belts, Etc. Standard Equipment on Mili- tary and Commercial Aircraft. Copyright 1929 LINING EVENING POST (Continued from Page 128) she didn’t care for that. No, by thunder, she didn’t care. All she cared for was the way I rode and why she'd never seen me out before. All she cared for was horses— those confounded horses! And she’s coming to tea this afternoon to see Sir Hubert. Confound it, Jerry; I’m mad about her. I can’t eat or sleep; and it isn’t me, it’s you. After everything I’ve done, it isn’t me, it’s you.” There wasn’t anything that I could say. He didn’t want to be me and I couldn’t blame him. “Don’t take on so, Dick,” I said. “Maybe she won’t find it out.” “Don’t make me laugh!”’ said Mr. Rich- ard. He certainly didn’t look as though I was going to make him laugh. “You haven’t heard the whole of it. They’re go- ing to have a steeplechase at the county fair next week and she asked me if I'd enter. She said I’d beat ’em all.” I got up out of my chair. I really felt sorry for Mr. Richard then. “You didn’t say you would?” I asked him. “Yes,” said Mr. Richard with a groan. “T bluffed it all the way. I guess—I guess I’m used to bluffing.” I couldn’t help him, for what was there to do? “You better tell her, Dick,” I said. “If you don’t, ske’ll soon know.” Mr. Richard gave another groan and sat down with his head between his hands. “Yes,” said Mr. Richard after a while, “you're right, Jerry. I'll have to tell her this afternoon; though I don’t know how I can.” “Why can’t you?” I asked. “You've only gotta speak.” “Because” —he looked up at me and his face was white—“ because,” he said, “I love her so.” She came walking down to the stable, cool and quick, with Mr. Richard right be- side her. I’ve known lots of ladies in my business, and she was the best sort—the quiet kind that know what they are talking about and that don’t squeal and laugh and clap their hands when they walk between the stalls. Her head was straight up and her chin out, as she looked this way and that, quick and sharp, with now and then aword andasmile. I was glad the boys had everything fixed right up to the nines, be- cause she knew what was what. The horses knew it, too; for they knew best of all. “This is Jerry Hobbs,” Mr. Richard said. “‘He’s my head groom, you know.” “Hullo!” she said, and looked square at me as a man might, and put out her hand like a man. “Hullo!” she said. “ Didn’t you ride in the Belfair Handicap?” “Yes’m,” I said. “I did before the war.” “I remember,” she said. She was the kind who remembered about the horses, though she could have been only a kid back then. ““Wouldn’t you have finished better if you had used the whip?” she asked. Yes, sir, she even remembered that. “No, ma’am,” I said. “He didn’t have a jump left in him. There’s no use going to the bat, ma’am, when they’re all through.” “You're lucky to be working for a real horseman,” said Miss Miltoun. ‘“‘There’re not many of them now.” She looked at Mr. Richard and smiled the way she had at me the other morning. “No, ma’am,”’ I said, “there’re not many of them now.” She looked at Sir Hubert, quick and hard, and put her hand up on his muzzle. “‘He’s looking well,” she said. “Will he be ready Saturday?” “Yes’m,”’ I told her, “he’ll be ready.” “Good!” she said, and she looked back at Mr. Richard, quick and sharp. ‘You | won’t have any difficulty. I’m sick of all these stockbrokers here who think that they can ride.” “Yes,” said Mr. Richard, “when you come right down to it, I’m rather sick of ‘them too.” “All talk,” said Miss Miitoun, “‘and no- body ever does anything. That's true, isn’t it, Jerry Hobbs?” May 25,1929 Then they walked out of the stable, side by side. Although their backs were to me, I could tell that she cared for Mr. Richard; though I couldn’t tell how I knew. “Jerry Hobbs,” I said to myself, “‘you’re the one who made her care. It isn’t him, it’s you.”” Somehow I was ashamed at my- self, which made-me hotter against Mr. Richard because he hadn’t told her. He hadn’t the nerve—that was the in and out of it—any more than he had nerve with horses. “So you didn’t tell her?” I said to him. I walked right up to the house, asking for a word with him. “No,” said Mr. Richard, “‘I didn’t.” “Well, you should have,” I said to him, sharp, just like that. Mr. Richard took a turn around the room. Then I didn’t say anything more; he must have known what I was thinking. “Jerry,” he said, “‘I wish you wouldn’t be such a preacher. Don’t you see it’s tough enough without your coming here to lecture me? She’s going to find it out, but I’d rather see it through.” Not knowing what he meant, I only stood and looked at him. “Yes,” said Mr. Richard, “if you start out on a play, you’ve got to play it. I'll have to ride at that county fair, that’s all.” “Who?” I said. “You? Because I won't.” “Yes,” said Mr. Richard, “‘me. And now run along, Jerry. You'll have your fun when you see me. Run along. I’m going to dinner again at the Miltouns’.” That was all he said, but I could under- stand it. It was his way of apologizing to her and of apologizing to me for what he’d done; it was his way of letting everything go up in smoke. “You can’t get away with it,” I said. “No,” he said, “I know I can’t.” Then he slapped me on the shoulder, as he did sometimes in the old days. “Jerry,” he said, “I wish that you were me. You’re straight and honest, Jerry. You're the one who ought to be trying to marry her. The world’s a dreadful mess.” Then he began to whistle between his teeth as he went up to his dressing room upstairs. Those county fairs are never much for racing, nor was that one at Mountain Pond much different. The steeplechase would have been more of an exhibition than a race if the ladies and gentlemen at Moun- tain Pond had not put up side bets on it. It was awful the way they started putting up great rolls of money that should have gone somewhere else. Miss Miltoun was in it, too, laying money on Sir Hubert. Even the stable boys commenced putting their wages up by the time the horses were going to the post. Even if Mr. Richard hadn’t mounted after he’d been thrown off that time, I was sorry for him just the same when it came time to start. When he came down to the paddock after weighing in—they did it all in style at that county fair—he was look- ing white around the gills. He was up against something that he couldn’t beat at last. Miss Adele was with him, which didn’t help it any, since he had to look pleased as paint and try to laugh and talk. Sir Hubert knew what was coming when I put the saddle on him, being of racing stock, the way I said. All the noise and all the crowd were getting to Sir Hubert like a shot of dope, making him toss and weave around the stall. “He couldn’t be better,” said Miss Mil- toun, and smiled at me that quick, bright smile. “‘Do you wish you were riding, Jerry?” “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I certainly wish I was.” “Perhaps Mr. Royall will let you. Will you, Dick?” said Miss Miltoun. I hated to look at Mr. Richard, but I had to hand it to him for what he said. He gave a laugh which really sounded as though he was laughing. “No, Adele,” he said, “you might fall in love with Jerry if you saw him ride.” (Continued on Page 133) ~~ a —->

Page 131

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 131 j ; ' ‘ ! 4 ‘ The little old schoolhouse where Nathan Hale taught owll be welcome in mee onnecticut says Governor JOHN H. TRUMBULL by —_ —— ——s Oh pare little Connecticut hid her charter in an old oak tree to save it from the British. Connecticut furnished Washington with half of his army in New York. Connecticut gave to America the patriot Nathan Hale, whose only regret was that he had but one life to give for his country. Connecticut boasts not only a famous historical back- ground, but splendid industries, great colleges and all the facilities for a perfect vacation as well. There is a sea coast dotted with white sandy beaches. And there are mountains with tumbling trout streams and cool crystal lakes. So drive up to Connecticut this summer. THE HARKNESS MEMORIAL TOWER AT YALE You'll be welcome here. You will find Socony Stations everywhere in New York and New England. Do not hesitate to ask for a free road map or directions at any one of these stations. Socony stands for Standard Oil Company of New “We in Connecticut are proud of our state. Proud of York, which distributes the famous Socony Gasoline, its great beauty and its healthy, invigorating climat . : - . . . . "We t vou to share its pleas vith us. Seo Socony Special Gasoline and Socony Parabase Motor Oil. ,; sige hades de? ad vost | s é as “ ° x . 2 drive up to onnectiout this summer and youu fi Write to Socony Touring Service, 26 Broadway, New agree that we have an ideal state for summer visitors U ™ 7 ° ° sy ow ed our roads and er highways so York City, for help in planning your trip. We have planned our roads anc nignwa iy . . that you can see and enjoy all the any spots of | In the southwestern states, stop at the stations of the beaut) > . . ‘lam glad, as Governor of ¢ to } Magnolia Petroleum Company; and in the west, at the - ag ae ee ee | . we privilege of inviting mw motorists o merwa to i stations of the General Petroleum Corporation, subsid- visit us this summer iaries of Standard Oil Company of New York. MAR ceer AG STANDARD OIL COMPANY OF NEW YORK —

Page 132

66 ow you can get paints that have the same qualities which have made Valspar Finishes che most popular in the world. You can get Valspar House Paint, Valspar Flat Wall Paint, and Valspar Porch-and-Floor Paint. Everyone knows that Valspar is waterproof, wear- proof and weatherproof—even boiling water cannot dim the beauty of a Valspar finish. THREE NEW VALSPAR SPECIALTIES The Three New Valspar Paint Specialties provide for your home the same beauty and durability, the same protection and real economy that have always been attributes of the name Valspar. Real Valspar is used in these Paints in place of the usual “Japan dryers”’ which tend to shorten the life of any paint. VALSPAR HOUSE PAINT (Outside White) dries to a beautiful finish which protects the outside of the house against sun, rain, heat or cold. It has superior covering capacity and can be tinted as desired with Valentine’s Oil Colors. VALSPAR HOUSE PAINT (Inside White) gives lustrous beauty to new or old woodwork. This snow-white finish 1s a joy tc work with. Use Valentine's Oil Colors for tinting. VALSPAR FLAT WALL PAINT gives a decorative mellow softness to interior walls or ceilings of plaster, wall board, wall paper, canvas, burlap, wood or brick. It brushes smoothly and dries to a velvety flat finish. In white only, but may be tinted as desired with Valentine Colors-in-Oil. VALSPAR PORCH-AND-FLOOR PAINT:— This amazingly durable fioor finish laughs at traffic and weather. Colors are: Tile Red, Stone Brown, Moss Gray, Dust Gray, Slate Gray, Deep Green, Sand, Light Oak. For floors of cement, concrete or wood-—-in the house or out-of-doors! Somewhere near you,—*‘At the Sign of the Boiling Water Test,""—is a Valspar dealer who will discuss all painting and varnishing jobs with you. He'll give you practical advice on your decorating problems and tell you the most appropriate Valspar finish to use. He will also be able to recommend a competent painter for those jobs you don’t wish to do yourself. SEND FOR SAMPLES Touch up some of the worn spots about the house. Prove to your own satisfaction, the superior excellence of the Three New Valspar Specialties. Use the coupon below for half-pint samples and Free Leaflets. THIS COUPON IS WORTH MONEY TO YOU VALENTINE & COMPANY, 388 Fourth Avenue, New York, N. ¥ lenclose dealer's name and stamps— 20€¢ for each half-pint sample an of Valspar Parnes vot over three sasnples supplied per person at cial prc State which color Vals Porch & Floor Paint you eswre. Valspar House Paint aod Valspar Flat Wall Paint come in mily. Prine full mail address plainly Send me Samples checked Valspar Flat Wall Paint White only 0) Valspar House Paint Inside White OC Outside White 2 Valspar Porch & Floor Paint (State Color).. a) Send Free Leaflets 0 S.E.P. 5-25-29 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST No longer is Paint just paint” —_ At the Sign of the Boiling Water Test May 25, 1929 VALENTINE’S ALSPAR FINISHES WATERPROOF — WEARPROOF — WEATHERPROOF — a oe ~*~ -_—— a. —

Page 133

~ —=— (Continued from Page 130) “T’ve seen him,” said Miss Miltoun. She looked at me again and smiled in a way that made me feel very odd. “ Adele,” said Mr. Richard, “you better go up to the stands if you’re going to see the fun. Good-by, Adele.” “Why all this?” she said. ‘I'll see you in the next ten minutes.” “Just a fashion of speech,” said Mr. Richard. “Just an eccentricity of mine.” Mr. Richard pulled off his coat, dropping it on the straw; he was always careless with his clothes that way. Then he rolled up his sleeves and looked at me like someone on a boat who is trying not to look seasick. “Did you see those jumps?” said Mr. Richard. ‘“‘They’re as high as the Singer Tower.” “They ain’t so bad,” I said, trying to cheer him up, “if you dig your knees in and keep your backbone limp.” “Yes, I know. Jerry, do you know that I'd give every cent of money I ever made to be in your shoes for half an hour?” It made me feel better when he said that. I got him up in the saddle and handed him awhip. He looked dreadful up there—like a bag of meal. “Dick, ” T said all at once. “You let me ride him, Dick? Go and tell her that you've changed your mind.” “Jerry,” said Mr. Richard, “don’t tempt me any more. Get ready to brush up the pieces.’ I wished I didn’t have to see it; I always have hated to see a bad rider on a good horse anyway, but this was a whole lot worse. Mr. Richard was in a blue funk when he was up on Sir Hubert; so that I hated to look at him. Honest, it was all Mr. Richard could do to stick on Sir Hubert when the band began to play out by the post and Sir Hubert was only just acting up the way a high-keyed horse will act before the race. There were five other entries, but you could spot Sir Hubert just by the sloppy way Mr. Richard was handling him. I couldn’t help but wonder what Miss Adele must have been thinking. He was making a holy show of himself, right in front of everybody. People were commencing to look at him and laugh. His elbows were flapping out like a bird learning to fly, and once when Sir Hubert gave a little start, he had to grab ahold of his neck. The boys commenced to giggle down by the fence at the curve. THE SATURDAY ‘I thought your boss knew how to ride!” said a kid from the Miltouns’ stables. “‘ He’s as yellow as a gold-filled watch.” ‘Shut your mouth!” I said, and I’d have shut it for him if the ponies hadn’t started. [t was none of Mr. Richard’s doing that Sir Hubert got off with the bunch; rather it was Sir Hubert’s racing blood that set him going down to the first jump, as if a real man was on him. How Mr. Richard remained for the first jump, I don’t know. He was all twisted over Sir Hubert’s neck when he landed, but he straightened up and went on to the second. The second —one of those fake stone walls—Sir Hubert took as pretty as a bird, but two jumps were enough for Mr. Richard. He took a swan dive over Sir Hubert’s head and rolled over twice. Then it was rather odd what happened. Sir Hubert sort of stopped, since he wasn’t used to riders pitching off, and though I couldn't believe it, Mr. Richard got right up and grabbed his reins. I heard myself give a yell when Mr. Richard got up again. Though Mr. Richard was a mess, he mounted and made for that third jump, fifty yards behind the field. Now that’s all that matters—to get up and ride again. As I began to look out toward that third jump I felt better all over; a weight was lifted off me, for all at once I knew that Mr. Richard had the right stuff in him, even if he couldn’t ride—and I hadn’t known before. The third jump finished him all right. Mr. Richard went off, half mixed up in Sir Hubert’s legs; not even falling right and proper. And when Sir Hubert jumped away, Mr. Richard didn’t get up again. I was the one who ran and got him and dragged him off the track. Some others came up and eased him into a blanket. “Jerry,” said Mr. Richard when he came to and I was sponging off his face, “that tears it. Take me home. And, Jerry, you go and tell her. Tell her I busted something or I'd be there myself.” And I told him “yes,” and I was that upset that I told him one thing more after I helped him into his car and we moved off toward home. “Dick,” I said—I suppose I’m simple, for I was crying like a kid—“I never thought you'd get up on him after you got spilled off. Why didn’t you do it the other time?” “What other time?” he asked. “Out in the paddock,” I told him, “when you got spilled off.” EVENING POST “Oh, that!” he said. “You must have seen I didn’t have the nerve.’ “Who?” I said. vY ou?” “Yes,” he said, “me. I didn’t have to climb back on that horse in the paddock. I nad to here. I’m as yellow as they make them, Jerry. When you go to see her, tell her that. All horses are like greased pigs at county fairs. It doesn’t take any courage to do what you have to do.” “Dick,” I said, and put a coat over him, “T guess all I know is horses.” That was how I went up to the Mil- touns’, driven right up to the front door in Mr. Richard’s car. “She'll see you in a minute, sir,” the butler said. Fancy that! The butler didn’t spot me. She came into the parlor as fresh as a daisy. “Hullo,” she said, “Hullo, there, Jerry Hobbs.” She smiled at me in that quick way she had, and held out her hand exactly like a man. “T hear he’ll be as right as rain,” “T've just been calling up.” “Yes, miss,”’ I told her, “he just got a busted collar bone and came down on his head.” “And what's a busted collar bone?”’ she said. “We all of us get one sometime.” “Miss,” I said, “there’s something he wanted me to tell you.” And I told her about the drag hunt and about everything there was. It seemed to me odd that she didn’t look surprised. “Oh,” she said, “is that all! I knew that it was you.” There must have been something odd in the way I looked at her, for she commenced to smile. “ Jerry Hobbs,” she said, “I'm not a fool. I can tell in two minutes when a man doesn’t know horses. Any idiot can; you know that. But he’s rather a dear, isn't he?” And she smiled at me again. “Who?” I asked her. “Him?” “Yes, him,” she said. “‘He went through it rather nicely and I gave him a chance to back out.” “Oh, Mr. Richard,” I told her, “he’s a sweet one, he is, miss. It don’t take no nerve to do what you have todo. He told me to tell you that.” “Yes,” said Miss Adele, “he’s a sweet one, Jerry Hobbs. At any rate he’s sweet enough for me, but isn’t he dreadful on a horse? If there’s any more riding, you and I are the ones who'll have to do it.” she said. pon DRAWN BY WARGE qnere ’ THERE 3 eee w sof OFC : y Dips m2 133 NEW FROM OLD VIRGINIA— In your market at this season—tender, white smooth-skinned Irish Cobblers of early potatoes he very finest Blue Goose, of course te Market Penny (hunts when Blue Goose quides your purchase ae is good to marketers — even so the careful shop- per lets Blue Goose guide her pur- chases. This is the highest “| of excellence that the American Fruit Growers can give to any fruits or vegetables. These experts select the finest products of garden and or- chard . . . ship them fresh to your market . . . mark them plainly on skin, wrapper, crate, box or barrel for quick identification. No matter when or where you buy, look for the name Biue Goose if you want the best for your table, if you want to make every market penny count! NO STEMS AT ALI ON BLUE GOOSE CANTALOUPES-eis shows that each one is fully -. ready for your table hey are regularly cleaped, heavily netted, golden yel low, pocked full of sweet ness. Blue Goose Honey Dews are also the best | LONG STEMS ON BLUE GOOSE CHER RIES . . . no lost goodness. All the luscious sweetness | of these plump red cherries is carefully saved for you MARKET GUIDE POR A POSTCARD | The “Blue Goose Buying Guide” gives you the signs of quality by which the Amercan Fruit Growers judge fruits and vegetables and by which you may always be sure of the best for your market money Free Just drop a pr steard to the Amencan Frat Growers Inc., Pittsburgh, Pa BLUE GOOSE The highest mark of excellence of the Amencan Fran Grower

Page 134

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 sore HT] Pooreprevenyy

Page 135

a 1 17 A “No, you don’t,” the actor agreed. “I was in the same room with you. You'll re- member I looked at my watch and re- marked that it was eight o’clock, and that I was toddling along down here. At two minutes past the hour I was still where you could see me, if you cared to avail yourseif of the privilege.” “You came to this house immediately?” — “Yes, I walked. Exercise—that’s how i keep in trim. I got here about 8:15. Jessop let me in, we had a little chat, and at about 8:20 I joined Mrs. Ballou on the beach, as you’ve already heard.” Jimmy Bradshaw returned. “I got that man Fyfe at the theater,” he announced. “My news just about bowled the poor fel- low over. He said he would be through after the second act and would come right along.” “Thank you most warmly,” Chan nodded. ‘You have most helpful nature.” He turned to Martino. “ You are what they call a director, I think.” “Yes, they call me that,” replied Martino grimly. ‘Among other things.” “You have been engaged in this work a long time?” “Not very long. I was formerly an actor on the English stage. Got interested in the pictures, you know, and eventually went to Hollywood.” “Could you mention date of arrival?” “Surely. I landed there two years ago last March.” “At that date you saw the place for the first time?” “Yes, of course.” Charlie nodded. “‘With regard to this evening, I can also omit to ask from you your exact location at two minutes past eight.” “Naturally. I was with you and these other chaps at the hotel. As I believe I told you, when I left you just after eight o’clock I went with Mr. Jaynes onto the terrace. I tried to calm him a bit, but he broke away and wandered down the beach. I sat there on the beach walk for some twenty-five minutes, admiring the set. When I saw you again, I had just been upstairs to get my hat, intending to come down here.” Charlie looked over at Alan Jaynes, nervously smoking his small cigar in a dis- tant corner. “‘ Mr. Jaynes,” he said. The Britisher rose and approached him, consulting his watch as he did so. “‘ Yes?” he remarked. Charlie regarded him gravely. “You are, I believe, one of the people who suffer most from this death tonight?” “What do you mean by that?” “It is reported that you loved Shelah Fane.” “Reported—by whom?” The man looked angrily at Tarneverro. “No matter,” said Char. “You had asked her to marry you?” “T had.” “Then you loved her?” “Look here, must you make a public in- quisition of this?” “So sorry. It is, I perceive, somewhat indiscreet on my part. Mr. Bradshaw has told me you were in this room at 7:40 tonight.” “IT was. I had come to dinner.” ** And to have, first of all, a private con- versation with Miss Fane?” “Yes. But the nature of that conversa- tion is none of your business.” Charlie smiled. “Alas, I know so much that is none of my business. You ask for her final decision in the matter of marriage. She rejects you, and you suspect Mr. Tarneverro here is responsible for the ac- tion. You tramp angrily back to hotel, seeking to make quarrel with this same Tarneverro. So, at two minutes past eight you stand in hotel lounge, glowering. Which, dear sir, is fortunate affair for you.” “T take it,” Jaynes said, “‘that you have fixed the moment of this—this murder at two minutes after eight?” (Continued from Page 2%) “T have,” Chan replied. Jaynes tossed his cigar into an ash tray with a gesture of deep relief. “‘Thank God for that. Have you any more questions?” “You saw Miss Fane for final time when you left this room at about fifteen minutes before eight?” “That was the last time I saw her, yes.” “Then you did not return here between 8:05 and 8:35?” “TI did not.” “Have you ever been in Hollywood, Mr. Jaynes?” The Britisher laughed bitterly. “‘I have not, and I’m not likely to go there.” “That is all, sir,”” Chan nodded. “Thank you. I'll say good-by. I hap- pen to be sailing on the Oceanic at mid- night.” Charlie looked at him in sudden surprise. “You are leaving Hawaii tonight?” vad | am.” The detective shrugged. “I am so sorry to disappoint you. It is impossible.” “Why should it be?” Jaynes demanded. “You are somewhat deeply involved in this affair.” “But you say you’ve fixed the moment of the murder, and at that moment I was standing in your presence. It’s a perfect alibi.” “Perfect alibis have way of turning im- perfect without warning,” Charlie informed him. “I regret that I cannot allow you to sail. The Oceanic will be carefully watched, and no one connected with this affair will be permitted to leave the island aboard her. Or on any other ship, for the present.” An angry flush spread over the Britisher’s face. “On what grounds do you keep me here?” “As an important witness in present case,”’ Chan replied. “‘I will go to extreme length of swearing out warrant, if neces- sary.” “T can at least go back to the hotel,” Jaynes suggested. “When I permit it,’’ Charlie said gently. “Meanwhile, I hope you will find for your- self a comfortable chair.” Jaynes glared at him, then receded into the background. The doorbell rang and Jessop admitted two men. One was a tall, angular American with a deputy sheriff's badge, the other a small, anxious-looking Japanese. “Ah, Mr. Coroner,” Chan greeted the deputy, who doubled in that rile. “‘And Kashime. As usual, Kashimo, you are de- mon for speed to get on job. Is it too much to assume that you arrive here with horse and carriage?” The deputy spoke. “‘They sent him to fetch me, and he finally managed it Where did this thing happen, Charlie?” “In a moment I lead you to the place,” Charlie said. “Maybe I search house,” suggested Kashimo eagerly. Chan regarded him sadly. “It would ap- pear that there was great shortage of de- tectives at station house tonight,” he said. “No, Mr. Kashimo, please do not search house—at least, not until somebody tells you what you are searching for.” He turned to the deputy. “If you will follow me ——” Diana Dixon came into the room. She wore a white evening gown, and her elab- orate make-up was sufficient explanation of the long delay in her appearance. Chan looked at her with interest. “Here is someone about whom I have not heard before,” he said. “Who in the world staring at him. “Do not be alarmed,” smiled Charlie. “1 am Inspector Chan, of Honolulu police. You are in Hawaii now.” “Oh, I see,” she answered. “Your name, please?” She gave it. “You are guest in house, perhaps?” “Tam. Miss Fane was kind enough to take me in. You know, I've just come up ” began Diana, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE BLACK CAMEL 135 Spend this Year's te from the South Seas with her. I acted in Gcanti@E her last picture.” “‘ An actress,” nodded Chan. “I find my- self dazzled by so much fame and beauty. All the same, I collect myself to inquire what have you been engaged in doing this evening?” “Why, I’ve been in swimming,” she told him. “When did you last see Miss Fane?” “When I went upstairs to put on my | bathing suit; I don’t know what time that | was. Mr. Bradshaw had just come, and Miss Julie and he and I went up to change. We left Miss Fane standing here in the hall. Someone was ringing the doorbell.” “You came down and entered the water with these young people?” “Oh, no; it took me a lot longer to change. It was eight o’clock when I was finally ready. I noticed the clock on my dressing table just before I left my room. I'd no idea it was sc late, so I hurried down.” “You did not see Miss Fane?” “No, I didn’t. This room was empty when I came through it. I crossed the lanai and stepped out onto the lawn.” “At a little time past eight?” “Yes, it must have been three or four minutes past the hour. As I ran over the lawn, I saw a man come hurriedly away from the pavilion.” “You saw a man leaving the pavilion? Who was he?” “TI don’t know. I couldn’t see his face. I thought he was one of the guests and I shouted hello. But he didn’t answer.” “You are unable to describe him?” Chan asked. “Not his face—that was in shadow, as I told you. But he was wearing a coat—an overcoat. I thought it odd on a night like this. The coat was open, and a streak of light from the kitchen window fell on his shirt front. He was dressed in evening clothes, you see, and across his white shirt ——-"’ Suddenly she turned pale and sat down weakly in the nearest chair. “I never thought of it before!”’ she cried. “You never thought of what before?” Charlie prompted. “That stain on his shirt—that long, nar- row, bright red stain!” she gasped. “‘It it must have been blood!” wi OR a moment, stunned by the picture Miss Dixon’s words presented, the as- semblage was silent. Then a low murmur, a buzz of amazed comment, filled the room. Charlie Chan stood looking at his newest witness speculatively, as though he asked himself whether her statement could pos- sibly be true. “Most interesting,” he said at last. “There has been, then, on these grounds tonight, a gentleman whose presence was up to this moment unsuspected by me. Whether or not he carried blood-soaked shirt bosom ——” “But I tell you I saw it,” the girl pro- tested. Chan shrugged. “Perhaps. Oh, most humble pardon; I do not question your truth. I merely mention overwrought nerves or maybe optic illusion. You must excuse if I say I might admit murderer would be so clumsy at his work as to inun- date himself, but reason totters on pedestal to add that such a man would rush from scene of crime with coat flapping open on his error. Rather I would picture him with garment wrapped close to hide away this crimson evidence. But what does it mat- ter? We must at any rate pursue thought of man with overcoat. The idea in itself presents portrait of queer human being. Overcoat in smiling tropics, even over evening dress, is unaccustomed garb.” He turned to Julie. “‘And what, please, is name of manservant in this house?” “You mean Jessop?” she inquired. “I mean the butler. Will you summon him—if I am not getting too obnoxious?” ON THE Pacilic Coast It’s becoming more popular each year with the American business man and his family. Mt. Hood (with Cloud Cap) from Los Lake The Great Outdoors of OREGON ...the center of the Pacific Coast Empire...is calling to every man who desires a vacation that will enable him to enjoy his own fa- vorite outdoor sport...ecither in playing golf in each city...or fish- ing its lakes and streams... hiking through its wilderness areas... climbing its snow-capped peaks ...or bathing on its seacoast. Fishing the Nehalem River PORTLAND, metropolis of Oregon, is the center of summer tourist travel of the Pacific Northwest Shop in Portland! Some of the re- tail stores of Portland do more busi- ness than those of any city west of Chicago, and the city is becoming an attraction to visitors because of this fact alone. They carry the same mer- chandise as stores in the East, in addition to a large variety of goods from the Orient and from Europe shipped via 58 steamship lines. If you visit HAWAII on your Pacific Coast trip, take the steamer at Portland PORTLAND'S WORLD-FAMOUS ROSE FESTIVAL, JUNE 9-12 Portiand Invites You! Write for maps, bookiets and all information to Room 209, Portland Chamber of Commerce, Portland, Oregon

Page 136

Julie went into the hall, and Charlie turned to the deputy sheriff. “I find it im- possible to accompany you to scene of crime just yet. Same took place in small beach house at right of lawn— please accept this key. You may begin examination and I will join you when I have interrogated servants here.” “Did you find the weapon, Charlie?” asked the coroner. “T did not. That was, I think, carried off by the assailant. He was person, you will find, who had wits in good control.” Charlie turned to the Japanese. “ Kashimo, you may enjoy yourself by keen observa- tion of the neighborhood. But if you re- peat one former performance and spoil any footprints for me, I will at once arrange for you to return to former position as janitor of fish market.” The coroner and the little Japanese went out. At the same moment Jessop held open the curtains and followed Julie into the room. The butler was pale and agitated. “The name is Jessop?" Charlie inquired. “Yes—ah—sir.” “You understand who it is that I am?” “I take it you represent the local con- stabulary, sir.” Chan grinned. “If it will help you to endure society of person like me, Jessop, I offer statement that my humble efforts on one occasion met with the complete approval of a gentleman from Scotland Yard.” “Really, sir?” amswered Jessop. “The memory must be most gratifying to you.” “It is, indeed. How long is it now that you have been Miss Fane’s butler?” “Two years, sir.” “You were in Hollywood before that, maybe?” “For about eighteen months, I was.” “A butler, always?” “ Always a butler, sir. I had a number of berths before I went with Miss Fane. I am bound to say that I was unhappy in all of them.” “The work was, perhaps, too difficult?” “Not at all, sir. I objected to the fa- miliarity of my employers. There is a cer- tain reserve that should exist between servant and master. 1 found that lacking. The ladies I worked for would often weep in my presence and tell me stories of un- requited love. The gentlemen who engaged me were inclined to treat me like some long- lost brother. One in particular was accus- tomed to address me as ‘old pal,’ and when a bit under the influence, would embrace me in the presence of guests. A man has his dignity, sir.” “It has been well said, without dignity there can be no stature,”” Charlie assured him. “You found Miss Fane of a different type? ” » “I did indeed, sir. A lady who knew her place as I knew mine. There was never eny undue informality in her treatment of me.” “Relations were, then, of the happiest?” “That they were. I should like to add that I am quite heartbroken by this eve- ning’s business, sir.” “Ah, yes, coming to this evening—did any of the gentlemen whom you admitted here tonight wear an overcoat, Jessop?” “An overcoat, sir?”’ Jessop’s white eye- brows went up. “Yes. With dinner costume, you under- stand.” “No, sir,” replied Jessop firmly. “No such gaucherie of dress was evident, con- stable.” Chan smiled. “Kindly look about the room. Do you recall admitting any visitor with exception of those now visible to your view?" “No, sir,” returned Jessop, surveying the party. “Thank you. When did you last see Miss Fane?” “It was in this room, at about twenty minutes after seven, when I brought her a box of flowers. I heard her voice after that, but I did not see her.” “Please detail your activities from hour of twenty minutes past seven onward,” Chan requested. THE SATURDAY “I was engaged with my duties, sir, in the dining room and the kitchen. I may add that it has been a rather trying evening in my department. The Chinese cook has exhibited all the worst qualities of a heathen race—I’m sure I beg your pardon.” “A heathen race,” repeated Charlie gravely, “that was busy inventing the art of printing at moment when gentlemen in Great Britain were still beating one an- other over head with spiked clubs. Pray excuse this brief reference to history. The cook has been in uproar?” “Yes, constable. He has proved himself sorely deficient in that patience for which his people have long been noted. Then, too, the—er—the bootlegger, to use one of your—or their—American phrases, has been unforgivably late.” “‘ Ah, you already possess bootlegger?”’ “Yes, sir. Miss Fane was a temperate woman herself, but she knew her duties as a hostess. So Wu Kno-ching, the cook, arranged with a friend to deliver a bit of liquor just out of the laboratory, and a wine of the most recent vintage.” “TI am deeply shocked,” Chan replied. “Wu's friend was late?” “He was indeed, sir. As I say, I was busy with my duties from the moment I gave Miss Fane the flowers. At two min- utes past eight ——”” “Why do you make selection of two minutes past eight?” “I could not help but overhear your questions to these others, sir. At that mo- ment I was in the kitchen ——” “Alone?” “No, sir. Wu was there, of course. And Anna, the maid, had dropped in for a cup of tea to sustain her until dinner. I called Wu's attention to the fact that it was al- ready past eight o’clock, and we had a few words about the bootlegger’s tardiness. The three of us remained there together until ten after eight, when Wu’s friend made a rather sheepish appearance, and I immediately set about to do what I could with the ingredients he brought. At fifteen past eight I came out to admit Mr. Van Horn. From that point on I was in and out of this room, sir, but I did not leave the house until I went to the beach and sound the dinner gong.” 9 “T am obliged to you for a most com- plete account,” Charlie nodded. “That is all, Jessop.” The butler hesitated. other matter, constable.” “Ah, yes. What is that?” “IT do not know whether or not it has any significance, sir, but it came back to me when I heard this terrible news. There is a small library upstairs, and today, when I had cleared away the luncheon things, I went in there to secure a book, planning to take it to my room as a recreation during my siesta. I came suddenly upon Miss Fane. She was looking at a photograph and weeping most bitterly, sir.” “A photograph of whom?” “That I couldn’t say, sir, save that it was of some gentleman. She held it so I could not obtain a better view of the face, and hurriedly left the room. All I can tell you is that it was a rather large photograph, and was mounted on a mat that was Nile green in color.” Chan nodded. “‘Thank you so much. Will you be kind enough to dispatch heathen cook into my presence, Jessop?” “I will indeed, sir,” replied Jessop, and withdrew. Charlie looked about the circle. “The matter lengthens itself out,” he remarked kindly. “I observe beyond windows a cool lanai crowded with nice Hong-kong chairs. Any who wish to do so may stroll to more airy perch. One thing only I ask: Please do not leave these grounds.” There followed a general movement, and amid a low buzz of comment all save Brad- shaw, Julie, Tarneverro and Chan went out onto the dim lanai. The fortune teller looked keenly at Charlie. “What have you accomplished?” he wanted to know. “There is one EVENING POST Charlie shrugged. ‘Up to the present moment I seem to have been setting off fireworks in the rain.” “That’s precisely what I thought,” Tarneverro said impatiently. “Do not lose heart,” Chan advised. “Changing the figure, I might add that to dig up the tree, we must start with the root. All this digging is routine matter that does not fascinate, but at any moment we may strike root of vital importance.” “I sincerely hope so,” Tarneverro re- marked. “Oh, you trust Charlie,” Bradshaw said. “One of Honolulu’s first citizens, he is. He’ll get his man.” Wu Kno-ching came in, mumbling to himself, and Charlie addressed him sharply in Cantonese. Looking at him with sleepy eyes, Wu replied at some length. The high-pitched, singsong exchange of words between these two representatives of the oldest civilized nation in the world grew faster and louder, and on Wu’s part, seemingly more impassioned. The three outsiders stood there deeply interested; it was like a play in some dead language; they could not understand the lines, but they were conscious of a strong current of drama underneath. Once Chan, who had up to - that point been seemingly uninterested, lifted his head like a bird dog on the scent. He went closer to the old man and seized his arm. One recognizable word in Wu’s conversation occurred again and again. He mentioned the “bootleggah.” Finally, with a shrug, Chan turned away. “‘What’s he say, Charlie?” asked Brad- shaw eagerly. “He knows nothing,” Chan answered. “What was all that about the boot- legger?”’ Charlie gave the boy a keen look. “The tongue of age speaks with accumulated wisdom, and is heard gladly, but the tongue of youth should save its strength,”’ he re- marked. “Yours received and contents noted,” smiled the boy. Chan turned to Julie. ‘‘ You have spoken of Miss Fane’s maid. She alone remains to be interviewed. Will you be so good as to produce her?”’ Julie nodded and went out. Wu Kno- ching still lingered at the door, and now he burst into a tirade, with appropriate ges- tures. Charlie listened for a moment and then shooed the old man from the room. “Wu complains that no one eats his din- ner,” he smiled. “He is great artist who lacks appreciation, and his ancient heart cracks with rage.” “Well,” remarked Jimmy Bradshaw, “I suppose it’s an unfeeling thing to say, but I could put away a little of his handiwork.” Chan nodded. “I have thought of that. Later, perhaps. Why not? Do the dead gain if the living starve?” Julie returned, followed by Anna, the maid. The latter was a dark, thin woman who moved with a rather graceful step. “The name, please?" Chan inquired. “Anna Roddick,” she answered. There was just a trace of defiance in her tone. “You have been with Miss Shelah Fane how long?” “Something like a year and a half, sir.” “I see. Before that you were perhaps employed elsewhere in Hollywood?” “No, sir, I was not. I went with Miss Fane the day after my arrival there, and I have never been employed by anyone else in the picture colony.” “How did you happen to go to California, please?” “T was in service in England, and a friend wrote me of the higher wages that prevailed in the States.” “Your relations with Miss Fane—they were pleasant?” “Naturally, sir, or I wouldn’t have re- mained with her. There were many other positions available.” “Did she ever admit you into her con- fidence regarding personal affairs?” ‘*No, sir, she did not. It was one of the things I liked about her.” “*When did you last see your mistress?” May 25,1929 “Tt was not quite 7:30. I was about to go down to the kitchen for a cup of tea, for I saw that my dinner was likely to be long delayed. Miss Fane came to her room—I was in the one adjoining. She called to me and said she wanted a pin for some orchids she had in her hand. I went and got it for her.” “Kindly describe the pin.” “Tt was a rather delicate affair, set with diamonds. About two inches long, I should say. I fastened the flowers to the shoulder strap of her gown.” “Did she remark about those flowers?” Charlie inquired. “She said they were sent to her by some- one of whom she was once very fond. She seemed a bit excited.” “What happened next?” “She sat down at the telephone,” Anna told him. “There is an extension in her room. She looked up a number in the tele- phone book and then busied herself with the dial, sir.” ““Maybe you heard subsequent conver- sation?” Chan suggested. “T am not accustomed to spying, sir. I left her at once and went down to the kitchen.” “You were in the kitchen at two minutes past eight?” “Yes, sir. I recall the hour because there was a great deal of talk between Jessop and the cook about the bootlegger.” “You were still in the kitchen when this bootlegger came, at ten minutes past eight?” ° “I was, sir. A little later I went back to my room.” “You did not see your mistress again?” “No, sir, I did not.” “One other thing.’”” Chan looked at her thoughtfully. “‘Kindly speak of her man- ner during the day. Was it same as al- ways?” “T noticed nothing unusual.” “You did not note that she was seen with a portrait—the portrait of a gentle- man—during the afternoon?” “TI was not here this afternoon. It was our first day ashore and Miss Fane kindly gave me a few hours off.” “Have you ever seen, among Miss Fane’s possessions, portrait of gentleman mounted on Nile green mat?” “Miss Fane always carried with her a large portfolio, containing many pictures of her friends. It may be such a one is among them.” “But you never saw it?” “T have never opened the portfolio. That would seem too much like prying—if I may say so, sir.” “Do you know where portfolio is now?” Charlie asked. “I believe it is lying on a table in her room. Shall I fetch it for you?” “A little later, perhaps. Just now I would inquire—you are familiar with jew- elry usually worn by Miss Fane on occasion of evening party? Aside from diamond pin fastening orchids, I mean?” “TI think so, sir.”’ “Will you come with me, please?” Leaving the others in the drawing-room, he led the maid across the moonlit lawn in the direction of the pavilion. They went in, and Anna lost her composure for a mo- ment at sight of Shelah Fane. She gave a strangled little cry. “Kindly conduct thorough search,” Chan said to her, “and inform me if all jewelry is at present time in place.” Anna nodded without speaking. The coroner came over to greet Chan. “I’ve made my examination,” he said. “This is a pretty big thing, Charlie. I'd better send somebody to help you out.” Chan smiled. “I have Kashimo,” he answered. “What more could any man ask? Tell chief I will report entire matter to him at earliest convenience.” They stepped onto the lanai of the pavilion, and at the same moment Kashimo crept like a correspondence-school sleuth from a cluster of bushes at the corner of the building. “Charlie, come quick,” he whispered. (Continued on Page 141) a aes a eS ———S

Page 137

— — - THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 137 Est Braintree, Mas., reheery of the Cities Service Oil Company, and of the petroleum subsidiarves of Crtees Service Company Mighty chemical baths free Cities Service Gas from all impurities T takes a long time to get Cities Service gasolene ready for you. After it is thoroughly distilled by processes perfected by a Research Department which spends a million dollars a year in improv- ing Cities Service products and services, it has just begun the journey to the tank of your car. First of all it is completely purified and washed in great chemical baths until all foreign substances are eliminated. Then it is put through a filtering process which removes all trace of the chemicals and moisture, and leaves nothing but the pure, undiluted gasolene. Before it qualifies for Cities Service pumps, it must next undergo scientific tests for start- ing, acceleration, power and anti-knock characteristics. Lastly, it is submitted to the most decisive CITIES SERVICE COMPANY The Stuff of Which Power is Made Good gas must meet a four-fold test It must measure up to established standards in 1— Acceleration 2—Starting 3—Anti-knock qualities 4—Inherent power Some gasolenes excel in one feature —others in another. Cities Service gasolene meets all four tests. The extra steps in refining are the ones that count. lat ONCE - ALWAYS test that can be given to any gasolene—the 24-hour-a-day use by the largest and most exacting customer of the Cities Service organization — its own Public Utilities Division. Including as it does some of the country’s greatest public utility companies, serving millions of people, the Cities Service Pub lic Utilities Division must have petroleum products that will stand the severest usage When you buy Cities Service oils and gas- olene, you have the satisfaction of knowing that you are using products that are con- stantly kept to an unusually high standard The line of Cities Service oil products includes the famous Koolmotor, the original green gas- olene which combines both high-test and anti knock qualities in what is definitely a superior gas 60 WALL ST., NEW YORK CITY Broadcasting by the Cities Service Concert Orchestra assisted by the Cities Service Cavaliers, on Fridays, at 8 p. m., Eastern Daylight Saving Time, through the following stations of the National Broadcasting Company: WEAF, WLIT, WEEI, WGR, WRC, WCAE, WTAM, WTIC, WW), KYW, WDAF, KSTP, WFAA, KSD, KOA, WOW, WOC, WKY, WTM). ities Service Oils & Gasolene

Page 138

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 What the Worlds Master “ ear J a” 4 y LO sii So Oe “They are marvels of engineering skill—their power and speed are truly amazing. I predict the SEa- Horses will revolutionize the sport of outboard motoring—particularly since they eliminate the old outboard motor starting problem and the bothersome racket and gases of the exhaust.” H. 0. D. SEGRAVE Winner of World’s Speed Boat ship and holder of World’s Auto. mobile Speed Record eevee The )

Page 139

The statement on the opposite page by Major H. O. D. Segrave, holder of the World’s Automobile Speed Record of 231.36 miles an hour and winner of the World’s Championship Speed Boat Classic held at the Miami Beach Regatta, March 20, was made after he had wit- nessed the remarkable showing of the Sea-Horses in the outboard events. In these events SEA-Horse speed and Sea-Horse stamina vanquished al! con- tenders for the most coveted prize in outboard motordom—the famous Col. E. H. R. Green Free-for-All Trophy. “Lookinback Kid,” driven by Malcolm Pope and powered with a Sea-Horse 32, won over a field of the world’s most skillful drivers and fastest hulls. Second honors were taken by Julius Herbst in another Sea-Horse powered boat. It was a Sa-Horse 32 that established the official American Class D Time Trial Record of 43.76 miles per hour at Miami Beach, March 23—while one lap was run at the incredulous speed of 44.66 miles per hour--all in rough water ! The Sea-Horses offer you champion speed and power. With Johnson's won- derful new invention, the Release Charger, they offer you the certainty and ease of automobile starting. And with the Johnson Underwater Exhaust, they offer you freedom from exhaust noises and gases. In the Sea-HorseEs you have improvements that add a hundred- fold to outboard motoring pleasure! JOHNSON MOTOR COMPANY, 185 Pershing Road, Waukegan, Illinois In Canada: Canadian Jobnson Motor Co., Ltd., Peterborough, Ont. Distributors for British Columbia: Hoffar’s Ltd., Vancouver, B. C. J Outboa WORLD’S LARGEST MANUFACTURER sy re ohnson -~=- Motors eens oe OF OUTBOARD THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Speed Pilot says | HOR Your dealer will demonstrate the Sea-Honses. If you wish, convenient payments can be ar- ranged on any of the six Sea-Honse models when you buy. Write for catalog. a re : itor MOTORS

Page 140

0 is the White Fireman? He is used in this advertising to symbolize loss-prevention engi- neering service—a nation-wide service, supported by insurance companies, having for its purpose the reduction of loss-harards. Consultation on proposed structures, inspection of property, testing of materials and equipment, and many other kinds of technical assistance comprise the work of this service. Ask your North America Agent. North America Agents are listed in the Insurance sections of classified telephone directories under “INSURANCE CO. OF NORTH AMERICA” Property Owners may Secure Loss-prevention Service SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 IRE danger never sleeps! Tonight it is lurking in thousands of stores, ware- houses, office buildings, apartment houses, hotels, factories, institutions and schools—awaiting its chance to destroy while the world slumbers. Long ago the White Fireman recognized in the night watchman a potential tool for fire prevention work. He fathered the idea of establishing schools where night watchmen might be trained to meet fire emergencies with alert, intelligent, effective action. Today, in scores of cities, such instruction courses are being conducted — by fire depart- ments, by Chambers of Commerce, by busi- ness associations and other civic bodies, and by underwriters’ organizations. Thousands of night watchmen are availing themselves of this valuable educational service. Thousands of property owners are being benefited by it. And thisis but one of the hundreds of activities promoted by the White Fireman in his never- ceasing efforts to reduce America’s fire loss. s 4 4 Insurance Company of North America PHILADELPHIA and Indemnity Ins. Co. of North America write practically every form of insurance except life The Oldest American Fire and Marine Insurance Company — Founded 1792 through Responsible Insurance Agents or Brokers

Page 141

_<__”

(Continued from Page 136) “‘Kashimo has discovered essential clew,”’ Charlie said. “Please join us, Mr. Coro- ner.” They followed the Japanese through the bushes and out upon a public beach that bounded the property on the right. On that side of the pavilion, which stood flush with the dividing line, was a single window. Kashimo led them to this and swept a flash light over the sand. “Footprints-s-s!’’ he hissed dramatically. Charlie seized the light and knelt on the sand. “‘True enough, Kashimo,”’ he re- marked. “‘ These are footprints, and peculiar ones too. Shoes were old and battered, the heels are worn down unevenly, and in sole of one shoe was most unfashionable hole.” He stood up. “I fear that fortune has not been smiling on owner of that footwear,” he added. “T am one to find things,” remarked Kashimo proudly. “You are,” smiled Charlie, “and for once you do not destroy clew the moment you come upon it. You are learning, Kashimo. Warm congratulations.” They returned to the lawn of Shelah Fane’s house. “Well, Charlie, this is up to you,” the deputy said. “‘I’ll see you early in the morning—unless you want me to stay.” “Your duty is accomplished,’”’ Chan an- swered, “or will be when you have ma ie proper arrangements in city. Body will of course be taken at once to mortuary.” “Certainly,” the deputy replied. “Well, good-by, and good luck.” Chan turned to Kashimo. “‘ Now great opportunity arises for you te perform your specialty,” he said. ““Yes-s-s,"” Kashimo answered eagerly. “Go to house, inquire for bedroom of Miss Shelah Fane, and search ——”’ “I go now!” cried Kashimo, leaping away. “Stop!” commanded Charlie. “You are one grand apprentice detective, Kashimo, but you never pause to inquire what it is you sleuth for. On table of that room you will find large portfolio of photographs. I very much desire to see portrait of gentle- man mounted on mat that is colored Nile green.” “Nile is new word to me,” the Japanese complained. “Yes, and I have no time for geography lesson now,” sighed Chan. “Bring me all photographs in room mounted on card- board colored green. If none such is in portfolio, search elsewhere. Now be off. The portrait of a gentleman, remember. If you return with pretty picture of Fuji- yama I will personally escort you back to private life.” Kashimo sped across the lawn and Char- lie again entered the pavilion. Anna was standing in the center of the room. “You made investigation?” he inquired. “I did,” she said. “‘The pin that fas- tened the flowers is nowhere about.” “A matter already known to me,” he nodded. ‘‘Otherwise the ornamental equip- ment is complete?” “No,” she replied, “‘it isn’t.” He regarded her with sudden interest. “Something is missing?” “Yes, an emerald ring—-a large emerald that Miss Fane usually wore on her right hand. She told me once that it represented quite a bit of money, and it has dis- appeared.” pps vil HARLIE sent the maid back to the house and then sat down in the straight-backed chair before the dressing table. The sole illumination in the little room came from two pink-shaded lamps, one on either side of the mirror. Thought- fully he stared into the glass where, dimly reflected, he caught occasional glimpses of an ivory satin gown. Shelah Fane now lay on the couch where the coroner had placed her. All the loves and the hates, the jealousies, the glittering triumphs of this tempestuous career were ended tonight. A woman of flame, they had called her. The flame had flickered and died like a candle THE SATURDAY in the wind—in the restless trade wind blowing from the Koolau Range. Chan’s small eyes narrowed in an in- tense effort at concentration. In one of her more indiscreet moments, Shelah Fane had seen Denny Mayo murdered. For three years she had carried the secret about un- til—and this moment was even more indis- creet—she poured it into the willing ears of Tarneverro the Great, a crystal gazer—a charlatan, nodoubt. That same night the black camel had knelt before her gate. Carefully in his mind, the detective be- gan to go over the points his investigation had so far revealed. He was not one to carry a notebook, but he took an envelope from his pocket, and with a pencil began to write a list of names on the back. He was thus engaged when he heard a step behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the lean, mysterious figure of Tarneverro. The fortune teller came forward and dropped into a chair at Chan’s side. He stared at the detective, and there was disapproval in that stare. “Since you have asked me to work with you in this affair,” he began, “‘you will perhaps pardon me if I say I think you have been extremely careless.”’ Charlie’s eyes opened wide. “Yes?” he said. “TI refer to Miss Fane’s letter,”’ contin- ued Tarneverro. “It may have been the answer to all our questions. In it the poor girl may have written the name we so eagerly seek. Yet you made no move to search the people in that room; you even pooh-poohed the idea when I offered it. Why? ” Chan shrugged. “You think, then, we have to deal with a fool? A miscreant who would take pretty complete pains to obtain the epistle, and then place it on his own person, where a search would instantly re- veal it? You are wrong, my friend. I had no taste for revealing how wrong you were, at the expense of further embarrassment for myself. No, the letter is hidden in that room, and sooner or later it will be fourd. If not, what of it? I have strong feeling that it contains nothing of the least im- portance.” “On what do you base that feeling?” ‘Tarneverro inquired. “T have plenty as a base. Would Shelah Fane have written big secret down and then given it to servant who must pass it along to you? No, she would have awaited her opportunity and then delivered it to you with her own hand. I do not reprove you, but I believe you attach undue importance to that probably innocent epistle.” “Well, the murderer certainly thought it important. You can’t deny that.” “Murderer was in state of high excite- ment and took unnecessary risk. If he takes few more like that, we are at trail’s end.” Tarneverro, with a gesture, dismissed the matter. “Well, and what have you dis- -overed from all your questions?” He glanced at Chan’s notes. “Not much. You perceived that I was curious to learn who was in Hollywood three years ago last month. Assuming that the story is true—the story you say Shelah *ane told you this morning ——--” “Why shouldn’t it be true? Does a woman make a confession like that as a oke?” “Never,” answered Chan, somewhat sharply for him. “And for that reason I am remarking I assume it to be true. It is, then, important to locate our many sus- vects in June three years ago. I have writ- ten here the names of all who were in Hollywood at that time, and consequently may have slain Denny Mayo. They are Wilkie Ballou, Rita his wife, Huntley Van Horn, and—ah, yes, Jessop, the butler. I regret that, overwhelmed by account of sloody shirt, I neglected to make inquiries of Miss Dixon.” “She has been in Hollywood six years,” the fortune teller informed him. “I know from what she has told me in the course of readings I have given her”’ “One more.” Charlie wrote down the name. “I may, I presume, add Miss Julie; EVENING POST though very young at the time. Of these, for the hour of two minutes past eight to- night, two have been accounted for. Jessop, presents plenty good alibi and Huntley Van Horn has perfect one, to which I myself can swear. Other things I learned—not very important—but it struck my mind, as it must have struck yours, that Mr. Alan Jaynes was breathless with anxiety to leave Hawaii tonight. Do not forget, it is within grounds of possibility that Denny Mayo murder had nothing to do with death of Shelah Fane. This Jaynes was in over- wrought state, his may be fiercely jealous nature, he may have looked at those or- chids, the gift of another, on the lady’s shoulder, and ———”

“But he, too, has the alibi of the watch,” | Tarneverro suggested. “Alas, yes,”’ Chan nodded. For a moment they sat in silence. Then Tarneverro rose and walked slowly toward the couch. “By the way,” he said casually, “have you made a thorough examination | of this watch?” “So sorry.”” Chan rose and followed him. “You now call my attention to fact that I have neglected most obvious duty.” Tarneverro was bending over, but Chan stopped him. “I will remove it at once and have careful look at it; though I am so dense I do not quite grasp your meaning.” Taking a linen handkerchief from his pocket, he spread it over his left hand. With his other hand he unfastened the nar- | row black ribbon from Shelah Fane’s wrist, | and lifting the costly little watch, laid it on the handkerchief. He went back and stood directly under one of the lights, star- ing down at the timepiece. “ Haie, I seem in stupid mood tonight,” he sighed. “I am still at sea. Crystal is broken, watch has ceased to function at precisely two minutes past eight.” “Permit me,” said Tarneverro. “I will be more explicit.” He took both handker- chief and watch, and with the linen always between his fingers and the metal, turned the stem of the fragile timepiece. At his touch, the minute hand moved instantly. A flash of triumph shone in the fortune teller’s eyes. “That,” he cried, “is more than I dared to hope for! The murderer has been guilty of a small error—it was very kind of him. He adjusted the stem so that the time shown on the face of the watch could be altered at will—and in his haste he forgot to readjust it. Surely I needn’t tell you what that means.” Charlie gave him a look of enthusiastic approval. “You are detective of the first class yourself. Give me credit that I noted same this morning. I can never cease to be grateful to you. I grasp meaning now.” Tarneverro laid the watch down on the glass top of the dressing table. “I think we may be sure of one thing, inspector,” he remarked. “At whatever hour the murder took place, it was certainly not at two minutes past eight. We are dealing with a clever man. After he had killed Shelah Fane he removed her watch, set the time back—or perhaps forward—to two minutes past eight, and then smashed the thing as though to indicate a struggle.” The for- tune teller’s eyes lighted; he pointed to the corner of the dressing table. “‘That’s the explanation of the nick in the glass. He banged the watch against that corner until he had stopped its running.” Chan was instantly on the floor. “‘There is no glass beneath,” he said. “No,no,” Tarneverrocontinued. ‘““‘There wouldn’t be. The broken glass was nat- urally found where Miss Fane fell. And why? Because this unknown person re- moved the watch with a handkerchief, as you have done, he swung it against the table still in that handkerchief to catch the bits of crystal, and carried the wrecked remains intact to the spot where he wanted them. A bright boy, inspector.” Charlie nodded. Obvious chagrin was in his manner. “But you are brighter boy. Almost I am on verge of resigning in dis- gust at my own stupidity. You should take my badge, Mr. Tarneverro, for you are the smart detective on this case.”

141

Tue new French panel heel in Iron Clade No. 922 at $1.50 « pair! Chiffon, silk to the top, No. 922 comes ip the latest, loveliest shades of eunbronse, suntan, breesee, mistery, Manon, beach tan, Cuban sand, Reveree, mirage, light gun metal, evenglow, pastel parchment, pearl blush, grain, skin, atmosphere, white and black size 8 to 10. If your dealer can't supply you, send us hie name with your remittance and we'll mail your bose direct. postage prepaid. Kefreshing SILK STOCKINGS should be washed each time they're worn. But soap and water shorten the lives of ordinary stockings. The loveliness of Iron Clad hosiery may be refreshed by washing. Iron Clads are made to wear and wash and be admired. They have ali the delicate beauty and pearly lustre of more fragile stockings. Yet soap and water can’t destroy their lasting loveliness. Iron Clads ... woven for days and days of hard sheerly, but firmly, wear and constant washing . . . are filmy enough to perfectly match the daintiness of summer frocks. Yet you can wear them and wash them repeatedly. An Iron Clad guarantee of satisfactory service or a new pair of stockings proves it. COOPER, WELLS & COMPANY 212 Vime Street, St. Joseph, Michigan \won Clad -,

Page 142

THE SATURDAY Tarneverro gave him an odd look. “‘ You think so, do you? I’m afraid you exag- gerate; thematter wasreallysimpleenough. It came into my mind that too many of us had alibis in this affair. I thought how easy it would be to change the time on the face of a watch. That is what happened here. The murderer set it at a moment then past, for which he had already estab- lished an alibi—or at a future time for which he proposed to get an alibi forth- with. However, when a man is excited he _ is likely to slip up somewhere, and this chap stumbled when he forgot to push ™ down that little stem before he left.” Where Public Opinion lias Formed WHEN dail newspapers did not exist, the inns and taverns of Colonial Phila- delphia furnished quarters where news could be spread quickly and public opinion created. The Crooked Billet Inn, the first building entered by Franklin on his arrival in Philadelphia, was such a gathering place. It was along the wharves near Chestnut Street. Here sat men in iight-coloured waistcoats and knee breeches, drinking ale and discussing the latest act of Par- liament. In a different sense, the inns of today are sources of public opie inion. If your eddress while in ia is The Benjamin Franklin, you can be assured not only cuperb service and comforts, ~~ @ stopping place of decided dis- netion. Able management hes provided in this great hotel every facility to assure the complete satisfaction of its guests. 1200 outside rooms, each with bath. Rates commence at $4. THE BENJAMIN FRANKLIN PHILADELPHIA Chestnut hth Street Chan sighed. “I am, as I remarked, bubbling with gratitude toward you, and | yet I am appalled. Whole flock of alibis is now quite ruined and the field broadens like some boundless prairie. Van Horn’s | alibi is gone, the alibis of Martino and of Jaynes, they are gone, too, and—begging humble pardon, Mr. Tarneverro—you have likewise destroyed the alibi you yourself The fortune teller threw back his head “Do I need an alibi?” he “Perhaps not,” Charlie grinned. ‘But when a tree falls, the shade is gone. Who knows? Even you might regret the loss of that shade in time.” “It may happen that I have another tree,” suggested Tarneverro. “If that is true, I congratulate you.” Charlie glanced around the room. “I must have poor unfortunate lady removed now to house, then lock this place until finger- print expert can do work early in morning. You will observe we do not move with vast speed here in Hawaii. It is our lovely climate.” He put the watch in the dressing- table drawer and he and Tarneverro went - out, Chan again locking the door. “‘We will now continue to living room, which we will seek to obtain to ourselves. Perhaps there you will deign to keep on with re- markable research. I travel in luck to- night. What could I do without you?” A little group of chairs on the lawn in- dicated the whereabouts of most of the guests. In the living room they came upon Julie and Jimmy Bradshaw, seated close together. The girl had evidently been cry- ing, and Mr. Bradshaw’s manner suggested that he played the réle of comforter. Chan gave Julie the key to the pavilion and told her gently what must be done. She and the boy went out to seek the aid of the | servants. When they had gone, Charlie walked thoughtfully up and down the big room. He peered into receptacles that held | flowers and plants, opened the few books he came upon and ruffled the pages. “By the way,” Tarneverro remarked, “have you made an inspection of Miss Fane’s bedroom?” “Not yet,” Chan answered. “So much to do, and only you and I to do it. I have sent Kashimo, our Japanese sleuth hound, on an errand, from which he will doubtless return in course of week or two. As for myself Pe He was walking across a rug, and paused. “As for myself ———”’ he repeated. He rubbed his thin-soled shoe back and forth over a spot in the rug. “As for myself,” he added a third time, “I have plenty good business here.” He stooped and threw back the rug. There on the polished floor lay the big en- | velope that had been snatched from his hand earlier in the evening. One corner | was missing, but otherwise the letter was intact. “Fortunate that Miss Fane preferred such thick note paper,” Charlie said. He picked up the envelope. “I fear I cannot offer my unknown friend warm congratula- | tions on his originality this time. But he was very hurried gentleman when this matter engaged his attention—I must re- member that.” Tarneverro came close, his dark eyes gleaming. “By gad, Shelah’s letter. And addressed to me, I believe?” “IT remind you again that the police are in charge,” Chan said. EVENING POST “They were in charge before,” Tarne- verro answered. “Ah, yes. But history will not repeat just yet.” Charlie removed the note from the envelope and read. He shrugged his shoulders and passed the missive to the fortune teller. “‘Once I was right,” he remarked. Tarneverro looked down at the huge, sprawling handwriting of one who was generous of note paper, as of all things. He frowned at what he saw. Dear Tarneverro: Please forget what I told you this morning. I must have been mad— mad. I intend to forget it—and so must you. Oh, Tarneverro, promise me you will. Pretend that I never said it. I shall refuse poor Alan tonight; it will break my heart, but I'll do it. I am going on alone; perhaps in the end I may even find a little happiness. I want it so much. Yours ever, SHELAH FANE. “Poor Shelah.”” The fortune teller stood for a moment, staring at the letter. “She hadn’t the courage to go through with it. I might have known. A pitiful letter. I don’t believe I would have insisted, after all.” He crushed the paper in his hand fiercely. “The murderer of Denny Mayo was safe. She wasn’t going to tell on him. He killed her for nothing. She’s gone, and she might be here. By heaven, I’ll get him if it’s the last act of my life!” Chan smiled. “I have a similar ambi- tion, though I trust the accomplishment will not finish off my existence.” His Japanese assistant came stealthily into the room. “Ah, Kashimo, have you enjoyed pleasant week-end upstair?”’ “Pretty hard job, but I got him,” Kash- imo announced proudly. “Found in jar under potted plant.” Chan reached out his hand. To his sur- prise Kashimo proffered, not the photo- graph Charlie expected, but a handful of torn bits of glazed paper and of heavy green cardboard. Someone had ripped the por- trait on the green mat to bits and then at- tempted to conceal the wreckage. “What have we now?” Chan said. He stood looking in wonder at the handful of scraps that he held. His eyes sought Tarneverro’s. “Here is a matter worthy of consideration. Person unknown does not wish me to look upon the photograph over which Shelah Fane wept so bitterly this afternoon. Why? Is it then portrait of the man you had asked her to betray?” “Tt may have been,”’ Tarneverro agreed. “Course now becomes clear,”’ Charlie announced. “I must view this photo- graph; so with all patience at my command I propose to fit these scraps together again.” He pulled a small table up before the windaws that: faced the street. “TI investigate outside the house,”” Kash- imo remarked. “Much the safest place to have you,” Chan returned. “By all means investigate very hard.” The Japanese went out. Charlie removed the table cover and sat down. On the smooth top he began care- fully to lay together the pieces of the photograph. The task, he saw, was going to be long and arduous. “I never was bright man with jigsaw puzzle,” he com- plained. “‘My daughter Rose was pride of family at that work. I would enjoy to have her at my side.” : He had made scant progress when the door of the lanai opened and a group of the guests entered the living room. Wilkie Ballou walked at the head, and after him came Van Horn, Martino, Jaynes and Rita Ballou. Diana Dixon followed; she seemed detached from the crowd, which had the air of a delegation. A delegation it was, evidently. Ballou spoke, in his most commanding tone. “‘See here, inspector, we’ve talked it over and there’s no earthly reason why you should keep us here any longer. We've all been questioned, we’ve told you what we know, and now we propose to leave.” Charlie tossed down the as yet unplaced bits of the photograph and rose. He bowed politely. “I recognize you are impatient with good reason,”’ he said. May 25,1929 “Then you're willing for us to go along?” inquired Ballou. “T am—and I say it with extreme pain— quite unwilling,” Chan replied. ‘Unfor- tunately, new developments keep popping off like firecrackers on New Year holiday, and I have something still to talk about with you.” “An outrage!” Ballou cried. “I'll have your badge for this!” Charlie rewarded him with a maddening smile. ‘That may happen tomorrow. But looking only at tonight, I am placed in charge of this case, and I say you will remain here until I tell you to depart.” Jaynes pushed forward. “I have im- portant business on the mainland, and I intend to sail at midnight. It is now long past ten. I warn you that you must call out your entire force if you propose to keep me here.” “That also can be done,” answered Charlie amiably. “Good Lord!” The Britisher looked helplessly at Wilkie Ballou. “What kind of place is this? Why don’t they send a white man out here?” A rare light flared suddenly in Charlie’s eyes. “The man who is about to cross a stream should not revile the crocodile’s mother,”’ he said in icy tones. a: t do you mean by that?” Jaynes asked. “IT mean you are not yet safely on the farther bank.” “You know quite well I’ve got an alibi,” cried the Britisher angrily. Chan’s little eyes surveyed him from head to foot. “I am not so sure I do,” he remarked calmly. “You said yourself you had fixed the time of this affair.” “How sad,” cut in Charlie, “that we pass through this life making so many er- rors as we go. Me, I am stupid blunderer. Your alibi, Mr. Jaynes, has been punctured like bubble with a pin.” “What!” cried Jaynes. Van Horn and Martino stirred with sudden interest. “Back off and cool down,” Chan con- tinued. “‘And accepting my advice, speak no more of alibis. You have already said too much.” Like a man dazed, Jaynes almost literally obeyed Chan’s orders. Charlie turned to Rita Ballou. ““Madam, my humblest apologies and regrets. I hold you here with the utmost grief. It has occurred to me that there is a dinner long prepared—lI fear the passage of time has wrecked most of it now. But if I might suggest # “Oh, I couldn’t eat a thing,” Rita told him. “No, of course, the very thought is hor- rifying,”” Chan nodded. ‘Such heartless- ness would be quite out of place.” Julie and Bradshaw came in. ‘“ Nevertheless, I urge that you all go out to your positions at the table and at least partake of one cup of coffee. The event will shatter strain and make easier the period of waiting. Coffee, as you know, stimulates and fortifies the mind.” “Not a bad idea,” said Huntley Van Horn. “Miss Julie ——”” Chan suggested. The girl smiled wanly. “Yes, of course. I'll tell Jessop to get things ready. You must forgive me. I’d quite forgotten we had guests tonight.” She turned and went out. Charlie walked back to the small table where his task lay uncompleted. At that instant a French window facing the street was thrust suddenly open, and the trade wind swept into the room like a miniature hurricane. Instantly the air was filled with torn bits of photograph, swirling about like snow in a Minnesota blizzard. Kashimo stuck his head into the room. “*S-s-s!”” he hissed. “Charlie!” “Splendid work, Kashimo,” said Chan through his teeth. ‘‘ What is it now?” “I find window unlocked,” announced the Japanese triumphantly, and withdrew, closing the aperture behind him. (Continued on Page 145) a — — 2 ———

Page 143

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ' HERE’S an extra quart of lubri- cant in every gallon of Quaker State Motor Oil. Put this oil into your crank case and you’ll know. The extra quart results from the ex- clusive Quaker State process of* super refining. Ordinary commercial refining leaves, in every gallon of oil, a quart of material that has little or no value in lubricating an automobile motor. Quak- er State goes a step farther—takes out this quart of waste—and gives you four full quarts of lubricant in every gallon. An extra quart! '-come from the — | And in addition, Quaker State is re- fined from 100° pure Pennsylvania Grade Crude—whose superior quality makes it cost two to three times as much as the crudes from which most other oils are refined. You can’t match that combination. Let your next crank case full of oil tell you the whole story—in motor perform- ance. Fill up with Quaker State at the green and white sign! QUAKER STATE OIL REFINING Co., O1L Ciry, Pa. Quaker State Specialized Tractor Oils are designed to give every make and type of tractor a longer life and a merrier one. THE.ORIGINAL CERTIFIED PURE PENNSYLVANIA MOTOR OIL ils QUAKER STATE MEDIUM MOTOR OIL QUAKER STATE HEAVY MOTOR OIL eel - QUAKER STATE TRACTOR OILS 143 \x_ OIL 4 AKER S277 Sz MOTOR OIL ( {TIFIED See ae GULARANTIAD / | 35° PER QUART Higher in the West, Southwest and Canada QUAKER STATE AERO OILS

Page 144

144 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 Arizona hunter tr acks down big catch...for his pipe. Stranded in hot desert pipe-smoker finds oasis of comfort in this little blue tin SK Mr. Kirby, a victim of the stifling heat of the desert, and he’ll tell you it’s mighty un- comfortable to hunt for your favorite pipe-tobacco and find you've lost your pouch. Unless—(as it so happened) one of the boys has a welcome “shot” of Edgeworth to fill the breach. Mr. Kirby says it certainly did more than that for him. For from the moment he packed his pipe with Edgeworth the world seemed pretty good again. And now he’s made up his mind he’ll never smoke any other brand. Not ali pipe smokers are brave, bold hunters. But nearly all pipe smokers are calm, serene fellows. Pipe-smoking runs to sound, thinking men—not to the nervous, helter-skelter breed. Semehow with a briar between your teeth you simply can’t be hurried into nervous, jumpy decisions. But you don’t have to wait until you’re stuck in a desert to try the powers of Edgeworth. Try this FREE offer now! How tong is it since you've had your pipe out? Weeks? Months? Perhaps it’s be- cause you've lacked proper fodder. If go, let us send you, free of charge, a trial pack- age of Edgeworth Ready- Rubbed smoking tobacco s0 that you can try it in your pipe Simply write your name and address to Larus & Brother Company, 30 S. 21st Street, Richmond, Va. (All Edgeworth endorsements are genuine Battle Mountain Sanitarium, Hot Springs, So. Dakota, December Sth, 1928 Larus & Brother Company, Richmond, Va. Gentlemen: Cne day in the desert, in Arizona, I went out on an all-day shooting trip, and left my pouch at home, and did not discover it until I was miles from town and a mile or more from where we had left our Ford. Well, I was disgusted. The sun was shining hot as the devil that day, and everything was dancing in the heat, and I soon got a headache. Now a queer thing about these headaches I have is that tobacco relieves them. So I asked one of the boys for a pipe of tobacco, and he handed me a tin of Edgeworth. Well, I thought here was the place where I was going to ruin a perfectly good pipe and get a sore tongue as well. But I packed a handful into the bowl and lit up. I got the biggest surprise of my smoking experience. For the pipe tasted just as good as it ever had with the other brand, and was quite a bit cooler, too. I smoked three or four pipes before we got through the day’s shooting, and when I had finished there was no dryness of mouth and throat, and no unpleasant taste in my mouth. You can be sure I have never smoked any more imported mixtures since that day, and as long as Edgeworth is what it is I will use no other. I want to thank you for a really fine tobacco, than which there is no greater rarity in this machine-made country. Sincerely yours, (Signed) McKinley Kirby —unpaid and unsolicited) Ed, eady-Rubbed” is sold in various sizes small pr re 2 ay oy le Page ‘Also "Plug Slice” Edge- wut comes posted do in sham, fr Ppo. ipe-smokers who like to “rub up” their tobacco in the palm of the band. j { ee ao [NGS PROT ERCP CORNY LRREI PRAIA OES i) — —- ——— > > +

Page 145

Se (Continued from Page 142) Concealing his disgust, Charlie moved around the room, retrieving the bits of photograph from most unlikely places. Tarneverro and some of the others came promptly to his aid. In a few moments he again held a little packet of scraps in his hand. He walked about, still seeking, but no more were in sight. He resumed his place at the table, and for a few moments he worked hard. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and stood up. “What's the trouble?”’ Tarneverro asked. Charlie looked at him. “Nouse. I have now little more than half the pieces I had before.” For a moment he stood staring about that innocent-appearing little group. It was in his mind to search every one of them, but a glance at Ballou reminded him that such action would mean a hot battle, and he was ever a man of peace. No, he must reach his goal by some other path. He sighed and placed what he had left of the photograph in his pocket, as Kashimo dashed in. More in sorrow than in anger, Charlie regarded his ambitious confrere. “Detectives were practically extinct at station house when they sent you out to- night,” he said. The doorbell rang, a loud, insistent peal. Jessop being in the distant kitchen, Jimmy Bradshaw went to the door. Those in the living room heard a few sharp, quick words in the hall and a man strode into their midst. He was a handsome fellow of forty, gray at the temples, with great poise of manner and a keen eye. The grease paint of the theater was still on his face. He stood, looking about him. “Good evening,” he said. “I am Robert Fyfe—at one time the husband of Miss Shelah Fane. This is terrible news someone telephoned me a short time ago. I came the instant my part in the piece was finished, without stopping to remove my make-up or change my costume. Most unprofessional, but I must ask you to overlook it.” “Shall I take your overcoat?” Jimmy Bradshaw asked. “Thank youso much.” Hestepped tothe curtains and handed Jimmy the coat. As he turned back toward the room Diana Dixon’s scream rang out, shrill and unex- pected. She was pointing at Robert Fyfe’s shirt front. Diagonally across that white expanse lay the bright red ribbon of the Legion of Honor. Startled, Fyfe looked down at it. “Ah, yes,” he said. “I came in my stage costume, as I told you. This week, you see, I happen to be playing the réle of a French ambassador.” viii URING the long silence that follcwed, Charlie stood gravely regarding this handsome actor who had, all unknowing, made the best entrance of his career. The actor looked back at him with a cool, level stare. Still no one spoke, and Fyfe began to realize that the gaze of everyone in the room was upon him. Accustomed though he was to the scrutiny of crowds, he found something a bit disconcerting in this situa- tion. He stirred uneasily and sought for words to break the spell. “What is all this about Shelah? I came at the earliest possible moment, as I say. Though I had not seen her for many years ——” “How many years?” cried Chan quickly. Fyfe looked him over casually. “You must pardon me,” he said, “if I do not at once grasp your position here.” Nonchalantly Charlie pushed back the left side of his coat, revealing his badge of office. It was a gesture of which an actor could approve— business, not words. “T am in charge,” Chan said. “You were, you say, at one time husband of Miss Shelah Fane. You have not seen her for many years. How many?” Fyfe considered. “It was nine years ago, in April, when we parted. We were both playing in New York-—Miss Fane in a Ziegfeld revue at the New Amsterdam, and I was doing a mystery play at the Astor. She came home one night and told me she had a splendid offer to go to Hollywood for THE SATURDAY a picture; she was so excited, so keen for the idea, that I hadn’t the heart to oppose her. A week later, on an April evening, I said good-by to her at the Grand Central Station, wondering how long I could hold her love. Not very long, as it turned out. Within a year she went to Reno, and it was all quite painless—for her, I fancy. Not quite so painless for me; although I had felt it coming that night at the station. Something had told me then that I wes seeing her for the last time.” ‘You no doubt appeared in Los Angeles in later years,”” Chan suggested, “at mo- ments when Miss Fane was in Hollywood?” “Oh, yes, of course. But we never met.” “Do you happen to recall—were you playing in Los Angeles three years ago, in June?” Charlie was struck by the look that came into the actor’s eyes. Was it, perhaps, a look of understanding? “No,” said Fyfe firmly. “I was not.” “You are plenty positive,”” Chan com- mented. “I happen to be, yes,” Fyfe replied. “Three years ago I was touring with a com- pany that did not reach the Coast.” “Tt is a matter that can easily be veri- fied,”” the detective’reminded him slowly. “Certainly,” agreed Fyfe. “Go ahead and verify it.” “Then you assert,” Chan continued, “that you have not seen Shelah Fane since that moment in New York station, nine years ago?” oF do.” “You did not see her in Honolulu to- day?” “ No.” “Or tonight?” A pause. “No.” Julie entered. “The coffee is ready,”’ she announced. “Please, all of you, come into the dining room.” “I make haste to indorse thet sugges- tion,” Chan put in. Reluctantly they filed out, assuring one another that they could eat nothing, that the idea was unthinkable, but that perhaps a cup of coffee —— Their voices trailed away beyond the curtains. Of the dinner guests, only the fortune teller lingered. “Please go, Mr. Tarneverro,”’ Chan said. “Small stimulant will increase action of that fine brain on which I lean so heavily.” Tarneverro bowed. “For a moment, only,” he replied, and left the room. Charlie turned to Kashimo. “As for you, I suggest you travel out to lanai, sit upon a chair, and think about your sins. When you appeared a moment ago like Jack of the Box, you scattered precious evidence to the winds.” “So sorry,”” Kashimo hissed. “Please be sorry on the lanai,”’ Charlie advised, and hurrying him out, closed the windows after him. Turning, he came back to Robert Fyfe. “I am happy to be alone with you,” he began. “Though you may not have guessed, you are most interesting figure who has yet popped into this affair.” “Really?” The actor dropped into a chair and sat there, a striking figure in his ambassadorial costume. His manner was calm, unperturbed, and seemingly he was in the frankest of moods. “Very interesting indeed,” Charlie con- tinued. “I gaze at you and I ask myself, “Why is he lying to me?’” Fyfe half rose from his chair. “‘Look here. What do you mean!” Chan shrugged. ‘My dear sir, what is the use? When you visit lawn pavilions to call on ex-wives, how careless to flaunt dis- tinctive red ribbon on chest. It might even be mistaken by excitable young women for—blood. Matter of fact, it was.” “Oh,” said Fyfe grimly, “I see.” “The truth, for a change,” went on Chan gently. The actor sat for a moment with his head in his hands. Finally he looked up. “Gladly,” he answered. “Though the truth is a bit unusual. I hadn’t seen Shelah Fane since that night in the station, until tonight. This morning I heard she was in town. It was quite startling—-what the _you. I am waiting. EVENING POST news did to me. You did not know Miss Fane, Mr.—er— Mr. ——” “Inspector Chan,” Charlie informed him. “No, I had not the pleasure.” “It was really that—-a pleasure.” Fyfe half smiled. “She was a remarkable girl, aflame with life. I'd once been very fond of her and I never got over it. No other woman ever meant anything to me after Shelah left. I couldn’t hold her. I don’t blame her for that—no man could hold her long. She wanted romance, excitement. Well, as I say, I learned this morning she was in town, and the news thrilled me, it was as though I heard her voice again after nine years’ silence. I sent her flowers, with a message—love from someone you have forgotten. Have I said she was impetuous? Wild, unreasoning, sudden, and irresistible. My flowers had barely reached this house when she called me on the telephone. She caught me at the theater, made-up, ready to go on. ‘Bob,’ she said, ‘you must come at once. You must. I want so much to see He glanced at Chan and shrugged. “ Any other woman, and I would have answered: ‘After the show.’ Somehow, that was never the way one replied to Shelah. ‘Coming’—that was always the answer when Shelah spoke. “Tt was a rather mad idea, but possible. I had arrived at the theater early, I needn’t go on for forty-five minutes. I had a car, and could drive out here, if I rushed it a bit, in fifteen minutes each way. So, at 7:30, I went into my dressing room on the ground floor of the building, locked the door on the inside, and stepped through a win- dow into the alley that runs along beside the theater. “Shelah had told me about the pavilion, she said she was giving a dinner party but that I needn’t meet any of the guests—my make-up, you know, and all that. She wanted to see me alone anyhow. I reached here about 7:45. Shelah met me on the lawn, and we went to the pavilion. She looked at me in a strange way; I wondered if she still cared for me. I was shocked at the change in her—when I knew her she was fresh and lovely and so very gay. Hollywood had altered her greatly. Oh, well, none of us grows younger, I suppose. We wasted precious time in reminiscences, living over the past. Somehow, it seemed to make her happy, just to remember. I was nervous about the time; I kept look- ing at my watch. Finally I said I must go.” He was silent. “And then ——-” Chan prompted. “Well, it was odd,” Fyfe continued. “I'd got the impression over the telephone, and even more so after I saw her, that she | wanted my advice about some terribly | pressing matter. But when I told her I was going, she only stared at me in a sort of pitiful way. ‘Bob,’ she said, ‘you still care for me a little, don’t you?’ She was stand- ing close to me, and I took her in my arms. *] adore you,’ I cried, and—but I needn’t go into that. I had that moment; no one can take it from me. Thoughts of the happy past came back. I was torn between my | love for Shelah and that watch ticking in my very brain. I told her hurriedly that I would return after the play, that I would see her daily during her stay here, that we would swim together. I had a wild idea that perhaps I could win her all over again. And perhaps I could have done it, but now— now——” His voice broke. “ Poor Shelah. Poor girl.” Chan nodded gravely. “‘It has been well said, those who live too conspicuously tempt the notice of Fate.” “And I suppose no one ever lived more conspicuously than Shelah,” Fyfe added. He gave Charlie a quick, penetrating glance. “‘Look here, inspector; you mustn't fail me. You must find out who has done this awful thing.” “Such is my aim,” Chan assured him. “You departed at once?” “Yes, I left her standing there—standing there smiling, alive and well. Smiling, and crying too. I dashed out of the pavilion.” (Continued on Page 148 145 HOW HiGi iS A HILL? What a sweet feeling when the | young mountain just abead flat- tens out under your smooth-run- ning car. But how different when a warning knock tells you that your motor feels the uphill strain. > Se That loss of power that makes a small hill seem big, is often the re- sult of deteriorated spark piugs. ft wk It’s a good habit to replace spark plugs at least every 10,000 miles with Defiance. Made in Toledo, Ohio, by Defiance Spark Plugs, Incorporated. For passenger cars, trucks, tractors and buses. Buy where you see the orange-and- black Defiance sign, the symbol of a high type of spark plug service. Defiance _ SPARK. PLUGS ACG. V.5. PAT. OFF, (Enlarged) © 1929 1D. 8. P., Inc

Page 146

HE THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 ROADWAY LIMITED [ NEW YORK AND CHICAGO—20 HOURS |] - Ae. oO. tne - ue f hi The Flying Leader of the Largest Fleet of Trains in America Lixe THE FLAGSHIP of a giant navy —The Broadway Limited! .... To be in its operating crew is a mark of bonor—a sub- ject of pride. For the Broadway Limited is the symbol and finest expression of the service, efficiency, and courtesy of a transportation system which operates 6,700 trains a day and touches the lives of 50,000,000 people. “The Broadway is coming!” Signals flash from tower to tower—miles ahead of the speeding train. Switches click into place. Signal lights are set... You sink a little more comfortably into your seat in the club car and slowly turn the pages of a magazine... “The Broadway is coming! In a round-house a hundred miles ahead, the fires of another great locomotive are stoked—in preparation—to a roaring glow... You yawn and think it is time for bed. You decide to stroll, before retiring, to the observa- tion car to have one last look at the fascinating picture that unfolds day or night in the wake of the speeding train... All night, as you sleep, a thousand unseen hands guide your train—the engineman, trained watchers in the towers, track-walkers, telegraph ee > es See >_> ay st 4 —

Page 147

— = See = a tt el —_— — ees > THE SATURDAY EVENING POST operators. At intervals—when the great Limited pauses in its flight, coming to a cushioned stop with brakes which grip a hundred wheels or more simultaneously—skilled inspectors move quickly, quietly ... over it... under it... through it... testing every vital part... Your safety! Your comfort! Your convenience! It's as if you had 10,000 unobtrusive genii pro- tecting and serving you through every minute of this swift 20-hour run from New York to Chicago and from Chicago to New York. Like a private club... On the Broadway you find all the conveniences of a private club—in the observation car, the club car, the unexcelled dining service, barber, shower-bath, valet, clothes pressing, manicurist, writing desks, stationery, secretary and stenog- rapher, terminal telephones, telegraph service at frequent intervals en route, stock market quota- tions, reports of national events, baseball and foot- ball scores in season, newspapers and periodicals. More particularly for Madame The services of a skilled ladies’ maid—-who is also an experienced manicurist—are available upon application to the Pullman Porter. Other special accommodations for ladies include an elegant lounge and a shower-bath. Complete freedom from worry about hand-baggage As a convenience to passengers on the Broadway Limited, hand-baggage may be checked direct from the train to residence, hotel, or office in New York or Chicago—thus leaving passengers free to go about the day’s activities directly on arrival. Arrangements for this service at a nominal cost may be made through the train stenographer. Arrive one hour earlier! To accommodate the busy man—during the period of “daylight-saving time,” April 28th to Sept. 29th—the Broadway Limited has advanced its schedule one hour, eastbound and westbound, as shown in the schedule below. Thus you arrive in either city bright and early, ready for the day's ‘activities. Westward Daily Lv. New York Pennsylvania Station. ................ 1:55 P.M. Standard Time ne 1:55 P.M. Newark (Market Street).............. 2:17 P.M. North Philadelphia.................. 3:40 P.M. Ar. Chicago PN a ccdcktcncd besscveda dees 8:30 A.M. Ce Gin ac hesecncosescicanes . 8:55 A.M. Eastward Daily Ly. Chicago CE . cocsnvencsnes santexs 11:40 A.M. Standard Time Englewood.......... Fe Ae t 11:57 A.M. Ar. North Philadelphia.................. 6:54 A.M. Newark (Market Street)............. 8:17 A.M. Ar. New York NE, 0 «6 cn cen weenie wns 8:42 A.M. Pennsylvania Station.................+ 8:40 A.M. 147 On The Broadway you can dine either & la cacte or table d’héte ($1.50 dinner). You have a wide variety of delicacies from which to choose. Your cook is an expert—with long experience behind him. Your waiters, too, are picked men, trained in the extra niceties— the very polite art of making you feel at home. The club atmosphere of The Broadway is not confined to the club car—but merely cen- tered there. In the deep-cush- ioned seats, you can lounge and smoke, read, get the latest stock quotations, reports on athletic and national events—or you can chat in the easy, informal “aboard-ship” manner. Traveling westbound, your way leads across the fertile farm lands of eastern Pennsy!l- vania—up the broad Susque- hanna, the “Blue Juniata” and into the heart of the Aileghenies —cooler in summer, more mod- erate in winter! Eastbound, you skirt the shores of Lake Michi- gan and speed through the rolling, fertile hills of northern Indiana and Ohio. PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD Carries more passengers, hauls more freight than any other railroad in America

Page 148

give your office manager the same chance «~ The factory manager was given his chance. He did a great job. And he showed you what can be done. Now give your office manager the same opportunity. He wants to adopt modern methods, too . . . if you'll let him. THE SATURDAY “It was now what time?” “I know only too well—it was four min- utes past eight. I rushed down the drive, found my car where I'd left it before the house, and motored back to town as quickly as I could. When I stepped through the | window of my dressing room, they were hammering like wild men on my door. I opened it, said I’d been having a nap, and went out with the stage manager to the wings. I was five minutes late—the stage manager showed me his watch—8:20. But that wasn’t serious. I went on and played my role, and I was just coming off after the first act when some young man telephoned me the terrible news.” He stood up. “That, Inspector Chan, is my story. My visit out here tonight may prove embarrassing for me, but I don’t regret it. I saw Shelah again, I held her in my arms, and for that privilege I stand ready to pay any price you can name. Is there anything more I can tell you?” Chan shook his head. ‘For the present, no. I ask that you remain on scene a brief time. Other matters may arise later.” “Of course,” nodded Fyfe. The bell rang, and Charlie himself went to the door. Peering into the night, he beheld a burly, dark-skinned man in the khaki uniform of the Honolulu police. “Ah, it is Spencer,” he said. glad to have you here.” The officer came into the hall, dragging after him a figure that, anywhere save on a i — would have been quite un- | (Continued from Page 145) “T am very u 1s fuaran VT picked tha upon Kalakaua Aven,” Put this guaranteed)” Calculator on every desk | where any figuring is done, Then your employees will have more time to produce—for you. More time for other work. More time for planning. More time to develop their talent . . . This policy has already been adopted by some of the largest organizations in the Nation. This New Marchant Portable is only $125. It solves every figuring problem. Adds, multiplies, divides and sub- tracts. Anyone can run it. No men- tal work. Fully guaranteed. Mail the coupon for details. Or consult tele- phone directory—offices in all principal cities in the United States and Canada. Representatives in all foreign countries. Maybe you would alse like information on our electric, automatic models—this Portable is only one in our complete line of | calculators. If so, check the second | square of the coupon. Marcuant | Caceucatinc Macuine Company, Oakiand, California. . . . years building calculating machines, nothing else. One of “ complete line of MARCHANT CALCULATORS MARCHANT CALCULATING MACHINE COMPANY Dept. 1, OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA Please mail me booklets on New $125 Portable () New Electric Pull-Automatic 2 Picase show me--without obligation New $125 Persable New Electric Full-Automatic () Name nantisinsglineignedintpinibamieniatint Company Se Add: ¢%s Sixteen | the policeman explained. “I thought you might like to see him. He’s a little mixed | on what he’s been doing tonight.” The man to whom he referred shook off | the officer’s grip and stepped toward Char- lie. ‘I trust we’re not too late for dinner,” he remarked. He stood for a moment look- ing about the hall and then, as though prompted by old memories, removed from his head a limp and tattered hat of straw. “My chauffeur is really rather stupid. He lost his way.” His manner was jaunty and debonair, no ' mean triumph considering his costume. _ Aside from the hat, which he now clutched | in a thin, freckled hand, that costume con- sisted of a badly soiled pair of white duck trousers, a blue shirt open at the throat, a disreputable velvet coat that had once been the color of Burgundy, and the remnants of a pair of shoes, through the holes of which peered the white of his naked feet. The buzz of conversation from the dining room had died, the group in there appeared to be listening, and Charlie hastily held open the curtains to the living room. “Come in here, please,” he said, and they | entered, to find Fyfe waiting there alone. For a moment the man in the- velvet coat stared at the actor, and under the yellow, ragged beard that had not known barber’s | scissors for a month, a slow smile appeared. “Now,” Chan said, “who are you? Where do you live?” The man shrugged. “The name,” he re- plied, “might be Smith.” “It might also be Jones,” Charlie sug- “A mere matter of taste. Personally, I prefer Smith.” “And you live ——” Mr. Smith hesitated. “To put it crudely, | officer, I’m afraid I’m on the beach.” | Charlie smiled. “Ah, you uphold noble tradition. What would Waikiki be with- out beach comber?” He went to the win- dow that led on to the lanai and summoned Kashimo. “ Kindly search this gentleman,” he directed. “By all means,” the beach comber agreed. “And if yov find anything that looks like money, in heaven’s name let me know about it at once.” Kashimo’s search revealed little—a piece of string, a comb, a rusty pocket knife, and an object which at first glance looked like a coin, but which turned out to be a medal. Charlie took this and studied it. EVENING POST “Temple Bronze Medal, Third Prize, Landscapes in Oils,” he read. ‘The Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts.” He looked inquiringly at Smith. The beach comber shrugged. “Yes,” he said. “I see I shall have to confess it all now—I’m a painter. Not much of a one at that—the third prize only, you will ob- serve. The first medal was of gold; it might have come in handy of late, if I'd won it. But I didn’t.” He came a bit nearer. “If it’s not asking too much, just what is the reason for this unwarranted in- trusion into my affairs? Can’t a gentleman go about his business in this town without being pawed by a fat policeman and searched by a thin one?’” “We are sorry to inconvenience you, Mr. Smith,” Charlie replied politely. “‘But tell me, have you been on the beach to- night?” “T have not. I’ve been in town. I walked out, for reasons which we needn’t take up now. I was going along Kalakaua when this cop ——-” “Where downtown have you been?” “In Aala Park.” “You talked with someone there?” “I did. The company was not select, but I made it do.” “Not on the beach tonight.”” Chan was staring at the man’s feet. “Kashimo, you and Spencer will kindly escort this gentle- man out to spot below window where you discovered footprints, and make careful com Ka aa know,” cried the Japanese eagerly. He went out with the other policeman and the beach combe-. Chan turned to Fyfe. “Long, arduous task,” he commented. “But man, without work, becomes—what? A Mr. Smith. Will you be seated at your ease?” The others entered from the dining room and to them, also, Charlie offered chairs, which most of them accepted with poor grace. Alan Jaynes was consulting his watch. Eleven o’clock—he sought Chan’s eyes. But the detective looked innocently the other way. Tarneverro came close to Charlie. “‘Any- thing new?” he inquired under his breath. “The inquiry widens,” Chan answered. “T’d rather it narrowed down,” replied the fortune teller. The two policemen and the beach comber returned through the lanai. Spencer again had the latter firmly in his grip. “O. K., Charlie,” said the uniformed man. “The footprints under the window could have been made by only one pair of shoes in Honolulu.” He pointed at the beach comber’s battered footwear. “‘ Those shoes,” he added. Smith looked down, smiling whimsically. “They are a shocking bad pair, aren’t they?” he inquired. “But Hawaii, you know, seems to have no appreciation of art. Perhaps you’ve noticed the paintings they buy to hang in their parlors—the wooden waves put on canvas by the local Rem- brandts. I may be a third-rater, but I couldn’t bring myself to do stuff like that. Not even for a new pair of ———” “Come here!” cut in Charlie sharply. “You lied to me.” Smith shrugged. “You put things bluntly for one of your race, officer. It may be that I distorted the situation slightly in the interests of ——” “The interests of what?”’ “The interests of Smith. I observe that there is something wrong here, and I much prefer to keep out of it.” “You are in it now. Tell me, did you enter that beach house tonight?” “I did not. I'll swear to that. True, I stood beneath the window for a few min- utes.” “What were you doing there?” “I was planning to make the sand in the shelter of the pavilion my lodging for the night. It’s a favorite place of mine.” “Go back to beginning,” cut in Chan. “The truth this time.” “T hadn’t been out to the beach for three days and nights,” the man told him. “I got a little money and I’ve been stopping May 25,1929 downtown. When I was out here last, this house was unoccupied. Today my money was gone. I’m expecting a check—it hasn’t come.’”’ He paused. ‘“ Rotten mail service out here. If I could only get back to the mainland —— “Your money was gone,” terrupted. “Yes, so I was forced back to my old couch under the palm trees. I walked out from town and got to the beach ——” “At what time?”’ “My dear sir, you embarrass me. If you will take a stroll along Hotel Street, you will see my watch hanging in a certain window. I often go and look at it myself.” “No matter. You got to the beach.” “I did. It’s public, you know—this one out here. It belongs to everybody. I was surprised to see a light in the pavilion. ‘Somebody’s rented the house,’ I thought. The curtain of that window was down, but it was flapping in the wind. I heard voices inside—a man’s and a woman’s—I won- dered whether it was such a good place to sleep, after all.” He paused. Charlie’s eyes were on Rob- ert Fyfe. The actor was leaning forward with a fierce intensity, staring at the beach comber, his hands clenched until the knuckles showed white. “T just stood there,” Smith continued. “The curtain flopped about and I got a good look at the man.” “Ah, yes,” Charlie nodded. man? ” “Why, that fellow there,” Smith said. He pointed at Fyfe. “The chap with the red ribbon across his shirt front. I haven’t seen one of those ribbons since the time when I was studying at Julien’s, in Paris, and our ambassador invited me round for dinner. It’s a fact. He came from my town—an old friend of my father’s ——” “No matter,” Charlie cut in. “You stood there, peeping beneath the cur- tain ——” “What do you mean?” cried the beach comber. “Don’t judge a man by his clothes, please. I wasn’t spying. If I caught a glimpse, as I did, it was unavoid- able. They were talking fast, those two— this man and the woman.” “Yes. And perhaps—equally unavoid- able; do not misunderstand me—you heard what they said?” Smith hesitated. “‘Well, as a matter of fact, I did. I heard her tell him ——” With a little cry, Robert Fyfe leaped for- ward. He pushed the beach comber aside and stood before Charlie. His face was deathly pale, but his eyes did not falter. “Drop it,” he said hoarsely. “I can put an end to your investigation here and now. I killed She‘ah Fane, and I’m willing to pay for it.” A shocked silence greeted his words. Calm, unmoved, quite motionless, Chan stared into the man’s face. “You killed Miss Fane?” “T did.” “For what reason?” “T wanted her to come back to me. I couldn’t live without her. I pleaded and begged, and she wouldn’t listen. She laughed at me—she said there wasn’t a chance. She drove me to it. I killed her. I had to do it.” “You killed her-—with what?” “With a knife I carried as one of the props in the play.” “Where is it now?” “IT threw it into a swamp on my way to town.” “You can lead me to the spot?” “T can try.” Chan turned away. Alan Jaynes was on his feet. “‘Eleven-ten!” he cried. “I can just make the boat if I hurry, inspector. Of course you’ll not hold me now.” “But I do hold you,” Charlie answered. “Spencer, if this man makes another move, kindly place him beneath arrest.” “Are you mad?” Jaynes cried. have your confession, haven’t you?” “With regard to that,” said Charlie, “wait just a moment, please.” He turned (Continued on Page 151) Charlie in- “What “You Ao es Sa ee 2 a= . ——

Page 149

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 149 O START the car equipped with a Bendix Drive, your only physical effort is to touch the starter button lightly. The Bendix Drive automatically engages the engine and cranks it. The Bendix Drive then automatically lets go as the engine starts. And the Bendix Drive auto- matically protects your starting system from damage if you accidentally touch the starter button while the engine is running.

The simple, com- ] pact Bendix Drive q (shown full size) | , is the connecting Only the Bendix Drive does all of this. This link between the mechanical hand that cranks your car” is one of the starting motor and Bendix achievements which helped notably in devel- the engine. opment of the modern motor car. ECLIPSE MACHINE COMPANY, Exmira, New Yor East ORANGE, N. J. WALKERVILLE, ONT (CONTROLLED AND OPERATED BY BENDIX CORPORATION)

The Bendix Brake (shown in reduced size) provides max imum braking area And the motion of the car Apps to the stopping power! Fully protected by patents and applicarions : the U. S. and abroad ee

OUR youngster stops his coaster-cart by putting his foot against the wheel —that’s ; ; simple, direct, positive—no complica tions or “‘red tape.” On automobiles the nearest thing to this simplicity is Bendix Braking—direct, >>>-

positive, “untemperamental”—always there ny <a Bendix Brakes are most powerful, but applied with — the least effort!—because they actually get part of their stopability from the motion of the car! For least effort per stop, least attention per year, and greatest security always, you must have Bendix Braking on car, truck or bus—or plane BENDIX BRAKE COMPANY, Sourn Be» INDIANA (OWNED AND OPERAT D BY BENDIX CO i 4

Page 150

Bee ee =, fh The Internationa) Nickel Company, Inc. rs pore 73 Wall Street, New York, N. Y. Please send me without cost or obli- 4 i gation «a sample of Monel Metal, together with your bodklet—“ Good Housekeeping Made Easier”. Addre eal cibmaiinininis stalin Occu pation Se a S. E. P. 5-25-29 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 Jorthe House Beautiful For centuries, hardware for the home could only be made of ordinary materials .--but Monel Metal is the newest gift of science to the home owner and builder seeking materials of greater permanence — materials which offer the enduring beauty modern standards demand. Through all the years Monel Metal hardware lasts — its beauty lasts. This lustrous Nickel Alloy never rusts, never weakens— indoors or out. Monel Metal has greater strength than that offered by any other corrosion-resisting hardware material. It is tough and durable as steel. It has no coating to chip, crack or wear off. With Monel Metal, craftsmen achieve all of the desirable effects—finishes that are mirror-like or dull, hammered or smooth, natural or dead black. You'll be proud of Monel Metal hardware. ..now and forever. Wherever you use it, Monel Metal always expresses a livable friendliness. Hardware . . . ornamental work . . . sinks ... table tops . .. washing machines . . . re- frigerator trim — all these are given longer 7 through the use of Monel Metal. It harmonizes perfectly with every color scheme. It is easy to keep clean and spotless. Monel Metal makes good house- keeping easier. If you plan to build or remodel your present home, let your architect or sheet metal worker explain how Monel Metal brings so much value and such lasting charm. Mail the coupon for booklet and sample. THE INTERNATIONAL NICKEL COMPANY, INC., 73 WALL ST., NEW YORK, N. Y. WASHING MACHINES ve “4, © TABLE TOPS CABINET TOPS RANGES SINKS Monel Metal is a technically controlled Nickel-Copper alloy of high Nickel content. It is mined, smelted, refined, rol! -d and marketed solely by The in- ternational Nickel Company, Inc. The name“ Monel Metal” is a registered trade mark. eae eee ae —_— - ———— x ST 8 nc lg EOE a ~ - 4¢

Page 151

eS a ae # -_ ————— _—_ “4 (Continued from Page 148) back to Fyfe, who was standing quietly beside him. ‘You left the pavilion, Mr. Fyfe, at four minutes past eight?” “TI did.” “You had already killed Shelah Fane?” “5 had.” “You drove to the theater and were in the wings of same at twenty minutes past eight?” THE SATURDAY “Yes, I told you all that.” “The stage manager will swear that you were there at twenty minutes past eight?” “Of course—of course.” Chan stared at him. “ Yet at twelve min- utes past eight,” he said slowly, “‘Shelah Fane was seen alive and well.” “What's that?” Tarneverro cried. “Pardon, I am speaking with this other gentleman. At twelve minutes past eight, EVENING POST Mr. Fyfe, Shelah Fane was seen alive and well. How do you account for that?” Fyfe dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. “I do not understand you,” Charlie said gently. “You wish me to believe you killed Shelah Fane. Yet, of all the people in this room, you alone have unshakable alibi.” (TO BE CONTINUED) TELL IT NOT IN GATH “I saw you dancing with her,” he re- marked— “with Miss Andris.” Tony smiled faintly. “Nell?” he cor- . “Yeah!” “Call her Nell, do you?” the other asked softly, and cleared his throat again. “Sure.” Tony was amused at this little man—amused and curious too. “Sure. .We’re just like that,” he boasted lightly. “That so?” “Sure,” Tony repeated. “How long have you known her?” Tony made a careless gesture. “Oh, cou- ple of weeks. I drop in here every night, have a dance or two.” “That so?” the mild young man com- mented, and cleared his throat once more. “You do?” “‘She’s a nice kid,” Tony assured him, in that casual tone which he thought became aman. “Sure.” “You’re Tony Dade, aren’t you?” Tony felt flattered by this identification. “Yes. Why?” “College man, I guess.” “Yes,” Tony assured him; and he re- sented the fact that his ears began to burn, that he felt young and immature. “Live in town?” “Right now I do. Why not?” “Got a job?” Tony chuckled. “You want to know a lot,” he said derisively. The other nodded in a confused way. “I hear you come from up in Massachusetts somewhere. Got a lot of money, eh?” “What of it?”” Tony countered. He was beginning to be faintly angry. This was an impertinent little man. “Any harm in that?”” And he added, more expansively: “T got through college last June. Probably go to work by and by, but first I want to take a look around.” “You pal around with Bruno,” the little man argued, as though this fact contro- verted what Tony had said. “Sure,” Tony agreed. “‘He knows the town.” “Like him, do you?” “Sure. He's all right.” The little man cleared his throat un- happily. He fixed Tony’s eyes with his own. “ Well, I'll have to ask you to leave Miss Andrews alone,” he said slowly. Tony’s brows lifted in an amused irrita- tion. “So? Who says so?” “Why, I do.” “Where do you fit in the picture?” Tony challenged derisively. “I’m her friend,” the other explained. “I’m looking out for her.” Tony stared at him, and he began to frown. Then he laughed unpleasantly. “Dog in the manger?” he suggested. “‘Shucks, I guess it’s an open field.” The other’s eyes blazed with a sudden flame that startled Tony, but after a mo- ment they were clear again. He shook his head. “No, the field’s closed,” he insisted. He hesitated, made a slow gesture. “She’s straight. I’ve known her a long time. She’s worked hard to get her training, and she’s making a hit here. She’s got no time for anything but her work. I don’t want her mixed up with anyone. Leave heralone, Dade.” “She send you to say so?” Tony de- manded. The little man flushed. “She doesn’t know anything about anything,” he ex- plained, almost appealingly. “I’m telling (Continued from Page 15) you myself.” He added steadily: “But what I say goes!” Tony leaned forward, his elbows on the table. His veins were tingling. This was the stuff you read about; this was life in the raw, man to man. Yet it did lack reality. The individual who thus con- fronted him was not in the least an impres- sive figure. There was nothing in him which commanded respect; which evoked any emotion except an amused resentment at his meddling. Tony rested his elbows on the table, and he grinned. “T’ll think it over,” he said easily. “I’m telling you,” the little man re- peated. There was, despite his harmless as- pect, something in his still dignity which gave Tony a faint concern. Yet he shook his head stubbornly. “It’s my business,” he insisted. He was taut as a drawn spring, ready to leap to avoid a biow or to strike one. But the other man for a moment did not move at all, and when he did, there was nothing alarming in his movement. He simply stood up; he stood uncertainly, looking across the room. They were danc- ing again, but Banalian had reappeared, was working his way through the crowd toward the table. The little man looked down at Tony. “Here comes Bruno,” he remarked. There was no particular emphasis in his word when he continued: “I’m telling you. Leave her alone. Don’t hang around her any more. I won’t stand for it!” And he nodded and drifted harmlessly away. Tony stared after him; he chuckled and took a long drink from his tinkling glass. He was immensely amused by this little man. When Bruno sat down at the table, Tony paid him no immediate attention, but Bruno instantly began to speak in a low- ered tone. “Saw you dancing with that girl,”” he whispered. “A pretty trick, isn’t she?” Tony made no reply at all; he did not even hear. He was watching the little man, yonder by the door, standing innocently there with his hands in the pockets of his coat. Tony watched him and wondered who he was. Then Bruno said, “How about getting hold of her for a party after the show? I can fix it. I just talked to her.” Tony did not hear what Bruno said; but he did perceive that Bruno had returned, and Bruno knew everyone, would be able to satisfy his curiosity. He asked slowly: “Who's that chap, Bruno?” “Who?” Banalian inquired; and fol- lowed Tony’s glance, looked quickly back at the boy again. “The little man over there by the door?”’ “Yes,” Tony agreed. to me. Who is he?” “Didn’t he tell you?” the other evaded. “No, just sat here and chinned.” “Say, don’t you know who that is?” Bruno demanded. His tone was one of incredulous amusement. The younger man looked at him curi- ously. “No. Who is he?” “Him?” Bruno leaned across the table, looking cautiously toright and left. “Him?” His voice fell to a whisper. “ Why, that’s Pip Flint! Heard of Pip Flint, haven't you?” “‘T guess so,” Tony admitted, impressed by the other’s manner. “He was talking “Well, I should hope so,”” Bruno assured him. “He’s a protection man. He's got the biggest mob in town. His racket’s the softest thing you ever saw. A thousand a week out of Luke, right here, and a hun- dred others paying him the same.” Tony looked at him in uncontrollable surprise. His cheeks drained white. “A gangster?” he gulped. “And then some,” Bruno agreed, with a | vast emphasis. “Say, he’d bump you off as quick as he’d step on a bug.” “He doesn’t look it,” Tony protested. “He don’t, for a fact,” Bruno admitted. “But, man! He’s quick as a snake, and he can scratch a match with a forty-five the length of this room.” “You don’t say!” “I’m telling you,” Banalian insisted. “‘He’s the real thing. Say, if he gets in your way, go through the wall. Go anywhere to get around him. Don’t you step on that baby’s toes!” “Gosh!” Tony whispered, and he swal- lowed hard. He was trying to remember what things he had said to the little man a few minutes ago, and the hair prickled on his nape and his hands were cold. A gang- ster! A murderer! And he, Tony Dade, had laughed at the man and flouted him. The slight figure by the door became in his imagination hideous and sinister, and the room began to swim before Tony’s eyes. Why was Flint waiting by the door? And what was in those pockets where his hands were thrust? And what did he mean to do? Tony was desperately afraid; but though cowards flee from danger, brave men meet it face to face. Tony came stumbling to his feet. Bruno at his elbow sought to check him, but Tony brushed the man’s hand aside. He went slowly across the room toward where Pip Flint, that harmless little man, stood so innocently by the door. Bruno, unable to restrain him, dropped in his chair again; and he sat nibbling nervously at his mustache while he watched what went forward over there. “I didn’t want you to misunderstand,” Tony said huskily, when he came to Pip Flint’s side. “‘I want you to get me right.” The little man looked at him gravely. “About her?” he asked. “T was joking,”’ Tony confessed. The other’s eyes softened curiously “Then you won't bother her?” he asked, almost eagerly. Tony hesitated, and he swallowed hard. He was terrified, but also he was, suddenly, reluctant. A lovely damsel! is thrice as de- sirable when a dragon guards her door. “She’s a mighty nice girl,” he pleaded. He tried to find words. “Then leave her alone,” the other re- peated. “Why?” Tony asked, his eyes steady- | ing. “I’m telling you!” “But why?” The boy had a moment of clairvoyance. In this little man’s glance, and in his tone when he spoke of Nell, there was not so much possession as devo- tion. ““Why?” The gunman studied Tony thoughtfully. “*What are you after?”’ he asked grimly. Tony hesitated, seeking some reply; for | this was a question he had never asked himself. But as though this hesitation were answer enough, the little man nodded. “Well, that’s why,” he said briefly. (Continued on Page 154 im BALTIMORE, MD ... when you of TRACK ACCESSORIES Consider these Advantages: Quality: Standard—high grade—dependable. Every pound shipped subject te buyer's inspection and approval at destination and fully guaranteed in service. Price: L. B. Foster Company competes chiefly on a price basis, stling at prices which stimmulate buyer's pref- erence. Service: Ordinarily trackage requirements are supplied from several sourres——rails from one source, frogs and switches from another, and se on. When you buy from Foster, you get all from one source—and everything matches. Moreover, your complete order is shipped from Foster's nearest ware- house, saving freight and time. You cannot afford to place your next order for any trackage requirements without first receiving a Foster quo- tation. Phone, write or wire— L.B.POSTER COMPANY PIT TSH! CHICA ST. LO NEW *% WAREHOUSES PITTSBURGH.PA CRSEY HAM

Page 152

What can you give THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 him to help him towards success ° N a dozen little ways you’ve always thought of him almost as a child. “The boy,” you said with a sigh of relief “oh, he’s still at college.” But now “the boy” is about to step into a new world. On his own. For better or worse. Do you know that your graduation gift to him can actually be something that will help him to success? Do you know that. the world can tell a success—or a man on the road to success— by the time he carries? After firing the question “What time have you?” at hundreds of men in every walk of life, this fact stands out: the higher you go in business or the professions, the more exact watches you will find. So give the graduate a Hamilton. Successful men carry watches that are accurate to the dot. . - and a surprisingly large number of these men have Hamiltons in their watch-pockets or strapped around their wrists. Let us send you a copy of ‘The Timekeeper,” a booklet that will prove of much value when you choose that graduation gift for your son or daughter. It not only shows a complete line of beautiful Hamilton models, but tells something of the exquisite care that goes into their creation. Address Hamilton. Watch Company, 850 Wheatland Ave., Lancaster, Pennsylvania, U.S. A. nn OO 8 ee oe

Page 153

“ 7 ——_—

Tell a successful man by the watch he carries? “Yes,” says a well-known literary light, “asking for the time of day all over New York I discovered that the higher you go in busi- ness, the more accurate watches you find. Of 75 bank officials that I interviewed, for instance, 69 were within a scant half minute of exact time. Apparently a man bears something around with him, ticking away in his pocket, that blabs the truth about his success!” It is a fact that the men who see clearly through any proposi- tion, who leap through a maze of questions to the right decisions, simply can’t be hampered by a Top line from left to right —The *“Tonneau'’—For men who want a dash of daring in the desigh of their strap watches. In either filled or 14k yellow, green or white gold, plain at $55 and $85; engraved (as shown) $57 and $87. The new ““Barret’’—A 17-jewel model, in filled or 14k green or white gold, $57 and $87. The 4k g g 5 *“*Spur"’—more than a mere miracle of work- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

watch that robs them of precious moments. If you'll look at the watches of successful, accurate-minded men, you'll find many of them are Hamiltons. For Hamilton means Accuracy. Accuracy means Hamil- ton. The two words have been coupled together for years.

Will she play her part? “It is no longer the fashion to be fashionably late,”’ says a prominent New York social leader. “It seems that the wives of suc- cessful men are beginning to real- ize the importance of starting dinner and theatre parties on time. Women who are successes in so- ciety have taken a cue from suc- cessful women in business and now play their part by keeping appointments on the dot.” That calls for an accurate watch . a Hamilton Watch. For, as Thamilton The Natch of Rattioad Accu racy nanship. A definite flair for the modern that 1as not lost its sense of dignity. In 14k yellow white gold, 19 jewels, $125. The “Cusuion a great favorite especially among sportsmen n filled or 14k green or white gold. Plain (as shown ) or engraved, $50 to $77. The “Hastinos a popular model with young graduates. In 14k filled yellow or white gold, $55; in 14k gold, $85 Bottom line from left to right —The ‘‘Rirrensovuse”™ Sturdy and slim—with a welcome simplicity all its own. In 14k filled green or white gold, with dial shown, $70 to $12 The ‘‘Wuear- Lanp'’—Harmoniously designed with a Gothic face of exquisite charm. A reasonably priced gift bound to please any graduate. In 14k filled green or white gold engraved (as shown), $5 ae ee Y nf i y fad . _ — = - > Cs a)

Tue Curvy Cuase—A lovely 17-jewe! mode! for women, in 14k white gold with silver dial and F inlaid enamel numerals. Left—in enamel and « graved case at $80. Right —In plain case at $75 every jeweler knows, and as every Hamilton owner knows, there are no “ifs” about Hamilton accuracy. Whether you wapt a pocket model or a dainty tibbon model, you may have a beautiful and ac- curate Hamilton for as little as $48. The “Ramsay The charm of simplicity marks this beautiful gift Hamilton with its Romanesque numerals and octagonai bov Ir 14k yellow or white gold, with dial shows Sr to $172 The Baunswick Desig ! with an cye to tomorrow but not at all ornat In 14k green or white gold, engraved, with dial shown, $117 to $172 © 1929. H.W. Ca

THE HAMILTON OS) = ——) WATCH IS AN AMERICAN

WATCH

Page 154

lrom Old Holland ~ anew treat Jor you Here’s a new treat—Dutch Tea Rusk. It’s a dainty cake-like bis- cuit—deftly sliced—then toasted to golden deliciousness. Rich with fresh eggs and whole milk, it’s | ever so crisp yet meltingly tender. | In old Holland, rusk is a national food. Now in America, it’s a de- lightful surprise for appetites that crave something new and differ- ent. Se good and healthful that doctors are prescribing it for invalids and children. So luscious and flavorsome, you'll prescribe it for yourself every day. There’s a cook book coniaining 100 novel recipes, yours for the askiag. Use coupon. Dutch Tea Rusk Co., Holland, Michigan. TEA U RECIPE BOOK FREE DUTCH TEA RUSK CO., Holland, Michigan. ] Send me, free, your hook, “One Hundred Ways to Serve Dutch Tea Rusk.’ Name Address City THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 151) But Tony’s head lifted in a sudden pro- “No, you've got me wrong,” he urged. “You're running the circuit of the night clubs,” said Pip Flint implacably. ‘You'll be a bum ina year! Well, she’s got work to do. Leave her alone.” “You've got me wrong!” Tony insisted, more stoutl;. “I wouldn’t hurt her. Not for anything.” The other studied him. “Well, you weren't thinking of marrying her, were you?” he asked mockingly. Tony was stunned. He had no thoughts just then; certainly not this one. It had never occurred to him. He had in fact given no consideration to this question of what he did intend. He groped with the problem now, standing silently; and the little man nodded again. “Well, there you are,” he said, and turned scornfully away. It was not altogether terror which prompted Tony’s word. True, he wes afraid; and he was desperately anxious to placate this deceptively mild young man. But more than this he wished to set himself right for the sake of his own self-respect. Abum? The word wasa hideous one, shock- ing, awakening. But also it was insupport- able to be thought capable of dark intent toward this girl, whose eyes were honest, friendly ones. And insupportable to think he must not see her more. “Yes,” he cried, catching at the little man’s arm. “Yes, I do.” The other swung back to him, stared at the boy. ‘‘ Marry her?” he challenged. “I want to, yes,” said Tony. Flint fixed Tony’s eyes with his; he held the boy’s glance for a long minute. Then his own withdrew; he lowered his head; | he began to whistle soundlessly, and his feet moved in a soft, shuffling step like a dance. “Well, that’s different,” said the little man at last, under his breath, “Yes, that’s sure different! I guess that’s up to her.” “T’ll go see her right now!” Tony cried. But the other shook his head. “I'll see first,” he decided. “Where do you live?” Tony told him. “Be there tomorrow afternoon,” Pip Flint directed. “All right,” Tony agreed. “ And go along now,” said the little man. “ee I'll see,” “Bruno ——” Tony hazarded. “Never mind him,” the other insisted. “You don’t want anything to do with him if you’re on the level. You go along.” And Tony, moving like a sleepwalker, did obediently go along. Young Tony Dade lay next morning late abed, and his thoughts were busy ones. A curious began, for no reason at all, to possess him; and by and by he picked up the telephone on the table beside him and put through a toil call to the mill at home. All went well there, old Madden assured him; but when was he coming home? “We miss you, Tony,” the old man said. “Oh, yes, I'll probably be back pretty soon,” Tony replied. This did not commit him to return; yet after he had hung up the receiver the thought stayed with him, pleasantly. The little town on the river had its charms. True, there were no night clubs there, nor any men as wise as Bruno Banalian, nor any girls as sweet as Nell, nor any mild young men with bulging coat pockets in which a pistol might so readily be concealed. But the mill had a pleasant bustle of ac- tivity about it; and his own fine old white house on the river above the town, empty now since his father and mother were dead, wore an attraction of its own; and the river slipped so softly by, at the foot of the bank below the barn. He lost himself in memories. There had been seasons when he found the little town monotonous and dull, but it was not so in his recollections now. Then he began to wonder when Pip Flint would come to seek him here, and EVENING POST what the gangster would have to say. It occurred to him that Bruno might tele- phone; but he had a newly awakened dis- taste for this man, so he left word at the switchboard not to put through any calls. For the rest, he simply waited; and there were moments when his mouth was dry. When at mid-afternoon he heard a light tap on his door, it was a moment before he could muster strength to open it. As he had expected, Pip Flint, that harm- less little man, stood there in the shadowed hall; he came in quietly, looked search- ingly around the living room of the suite which Tony occupied, and then without apology glanced into the bedroom, too, and into the bathroom beyond. Such a man, Tony understood, must forever stand on guard. Then Pip returned to where Tony waited; he nodded and cleared his throat in that apologetic way he had, and sat down. And Tony dropped in his big chair, his long legs sprawling out across the rug. The gangster seemed to have trouble in finding words. Tony thought that if he did not know the other’s reputation, the little man would have seemed a wistful, almost tragic figure. There was something stricken in his countenance; it wore, or seemed to wear, a grayish hue. But after a moment Pip nodded again, and cleared his throat once more. “Well,” he said, “I guess Nell wants it that way.” Tony swallowed hard. her?” he hazarded. The other shook his head, smiling grimly. “Not straight out,” he replied. ‘“‘That’s up to you. But I talked to her, got her to talk. I could tell well enough.” He hesitated and his eyes hardened. “Did you send Bruno in to see her last night?” “No!” Tony ejaculated. “No. Bruno? Did he see her?” “‘She’s used to drunks,” said the little man. “She can laugh them off. But Bruno, he’s the oily, slippery kind. He scared her.”” His tone was hard. “She was still scared, even today. He was talking to her about you, about a party. But she didn’t believe you sent him in.” “T’ll break him in two,” said Tony. His breath was whistling. “No,” the other corrected. “‘No, you won’t! I'll look out for Bruno. You're not going to see him any more. Nor he won’t bother you.” His tone was mild, but Tony found him- self shucdering. Then Pip hesitated, smiled faintly. ‘“‘But the way it came out,” he confessed, ‘‘I guess he helped you, at that. Hearing his line made her—sick of the racket. The dancing and the life. I got-her to talking. She likes you. If you go at her right ——-” He hesitated. ‘How about your folks?” he asked. “Will they stand for her?” “They’re dead,” said Tony simply. The little man almost beamed. ‘‘Good!” he exclaimed. It was clear that he dis- covered nothing humorous in this comment. “All right, then! You go see her, and put it up to her strong. She’ll have you. She wants it that way. She may put up an argument, claim she’s not good enough. But I’m telling you.” Tony was suddenly a little staggered at the prospect. “You sure?” he asked. The other nodded inattentively. ‘But I’ve got to get some things straight with you, first,” he explained. “You're going back home.” The words were a statement, not a ques- tion. “Sooner or later,” “Yes, of course.” “Sooner than that,” said the mild young man. “This is going to be done my way, see? Nor you don’t get married here—not with a piece in the papers and everything. You'll go down into Jersey. Just the two of you, and no one to know a thing about it.” Tony laughed uneasily. ‘‘ You’re taking her for granted.” “Why, I’ve known her twelve years,” the little man gently explained. “I know Nell better than she knows herself.” A:.4d “Did you ask Tony assented. May 25,1929 he continued: “‘And then you take her up there, into the country, where you live.” “She'll be bored there,” Tony urged. “It’s so darned quiet.” “That’s your job!” the other returned, and his mild eyes suddenly were stern. “You’re going through with this, see! You're in it now. She fell for you, and even if you wanted to get out, you’re in.” “T don’t want to get out!”’ the boy cried. “And you're going to keep her happy,” Pip Flint continued, ignoring this assertion. “It’s up to you. Study her, and watch her, and find out how to keep her glad she married you.” “There’s no excitement up there,” Tony objected. “Not a thing to do.” “Bruno cured her of wanting excite- ment,” the gangster insisted. “She never was that kind, anyway. Always was one to go home from work and stay there. She’ll like it. And if she don’t, you’ve got to make her.” Tony twisted uneasily, fearful in spite of himself, full of arguments and protest; but his eye fell on that bulging pocket, where something compact and heavy seemed to hang, and he bit his lip and held his tongue. “You can do it, all right,” Pip Flint said thoughtfully. “I can see that! You were on the way to be just a bum, but you’re going to turn around and go the other way. Lay off the hard stuff, see! No more hooch for you. Not even a cock- tail! She doesn’t touch it. Her old man went out that way, and she remembers, so she doesn’t touch it herself. And after this, you’re not going to.” “I don’t care anything about it,” Tony assured him. “And you're going to be nice to her,” Pip Flint continued. ‘Oh, you’ll have your ups and downs. She needs a boss some- times, and sometimes she needs someone to boss. You'll have to decide which is the time. You go home and go to work in that mill of yours.” “I mean to,” the boy promised, strangely moved by the other’s slow tones. The gun- man wore more and more plainly an aspect of wistful tragedy. Tony had to remind himself that Pip Flint was a dangerous man, with death under his hand. The gangster seemed curiously lonely and ap- pealing; and Tony wished to reassure Pip, not for his own sake but for the other’s comforting. “T mean to,” he repeated. “Don’t fool with other women,” Pip Flint directed. ‘“‘Go to work, be nice to Nell, leave the hooch alone, cut out the women. And have some babies too. She wants ’em. Always has been crazy for babies. And no late hours, see! If you go out at night, get home early.”” He looked at Tony narrowly. “Any reason you can’t?” he demanded. “Are you in any hook-up now that’s likely to interfere?” “No,” Tony told him gently. “No, I’m all clear. Always have been.” “So has she,” said the gunman quietly. His eyes fixed Tony’s, “And you let her stay that way. You can get married to- morrow. You don’t have to see her tonight at all.” “T’ll have to go to the Dairy to find her,” Tony pointed out. But Flint shook his head. “She's through there. You go to her room.” “I don’t know where it is.” Flint studied him through a long silence; he sighed at last as one who takes reluc- tantly an irrevocable step. “I'll give you her address,”’ he decided. He tried to continue, but he seemed to choke, and his eyes suddenly were misted. Tony was by this evidence of feeling in the other moved beyond control. He said softly, “‘You’re mighty fond of her, aren’t you?” “TI brought her up!”’ the little man con- fessed, his tone defensively gruff. “I’ve taken care of her for ten years now.” “We'll always thank you! Nell and I!” The other shook his head in a quick alarm. “No,” he corrected sharply. “No, (Continued on Page 157) 3 i’

Page 155

sea THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 155 New York Central Lines will help you plan your VACATION TRIP Expert Travel Service at our offices throughout the United States Now is the time to plan this summer’s holiday. Last year thousands of vacationists took advantage of the free travel information service of the New York Central Lines. } \ a Zz Your Vacation This Summer Pick out from the list of popular resorts and vacation regions the place or places in which you are most ; ecial low rate fares t Pilate interested and send us your address on the coupon. Spee © Fees to fampous resorts and citie ’ ‘ in the United States and Canad We will send you descriptive literature and all eateries necessary information as to cost of tickets from your CALIFORNIA ALASKA city—at the lowest fares. Los Angeles San Diego Mt. McKinley National Park Mount Shasta San Francisco . Big Tree Country If you would like to make a tour of some of the famous EASTERN RESORTS ° . » PACIFIC NORTHWEST Niagara Falls Thousand Islands scenic wonders of America, in the West or East, we Sate eons Groat Lakes St Lawrence River ces . Portland Columbia River Adtrondacks Hudson Valley can plan an itinerary for you for any number of days Victoria Vancouver Mohawk Valley Berkshire bills or weeks, showing how such a tour can be made at NATIONAL PARKS oe machete negate the lowest cost and by the best routes. Railroad and Grand Canyon Glacier Cape Cod = Maine Woods ll e v Yosemite Mt. Rainier Green Mountains White Mountains Pullman tickets for the entire trip may be purchased Crater Lake Yellowstone Lake Champlain Lahe George ° ° d ~40n ae ails Saratoga Springs in advance, with arrangements for stopovers at inter- Rocky Mountain & Colorado , : [ : ATTRACTIVE CIRCLE TOURS esting points to suit your convenience. CANADA Pees - . Itineraries carefully planned to include Conediicn Reghics Baay : points of interest in the East, West, North New York Central Lines maintain passenger department me chy Se ie Saath. Wildrecer gan Bue~ebeneer . . ° rr ° French Canada Marttimes you wish to go let Neu York Central offices in the principal cities of the United States, and Jasper National Park Lines help you plan your vacation trip our agents at these offices are at your service. For further information, mail this coupon to Pas N E W } O R K ( E N | RAL I I N E S senger Traffic Department, New York Central Lines, at Chicago, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh or Boston—er to BOSTON @& ALBANY:-+ MICHIGAN CENTRAL:-: BIG FOUR:-: PITTSBURGH & LAKE ERIE >>> , ics > N ‘ Ce ; NEW YORK CENTRAL AND SUBSIDIARY LINES Advertising Department, New York Central Lines Room 1256, No. 466 Lexington Avenue, Twentieth Century Limited --- Chicago --- New York --- New England New York, N. Y. Southwestern Limited e+: §Z Louis --- New York --- New England Please tell me all about a trip to y NEM YORK Name (CENTRAL f . LINES Se Address

Page 156

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 The Everyday Group The Decorative Group STRATHMORE PAPERS Inexpensive papers Papers of wide price range For Everyday Printing For Decorative FOR COVERS OF YOUR Bay Path Cover Aleddin Cover Bay Path Imperial Araby Cover Booklets or Catalogs ; Sance Deckle Edge Cover 2 mone for pate ore Deck. I " Cee _Parquetry Cover . OU American Alexandra Book Bay Path Book Aladdin Box Cov FOR YOUR FOLDERS, Artlaid Cheech .. Cockatoo p ween D. E. Wide and Narrow 4 Path Imperial maby Box Cever Booklets, Envelope Grandee ..Old Stratford Book Alexandra Japan & Saxonet Fanfare j, Enclosures, etc Strathmore Japan Rhododendron Box Cover Wayside Text® Parquetry Cover : x _ Strathmore Deck. Edge Narrow P Strathlaid ; . i Ba . FOR YOUR LETTERS, Sectheore Onion Skin Alexandra Brllant® fe , a velopes, Billheada, Strathmore Parchment® Snowdrift® y Path Vellum ipt ® ‘elanian Super® Mul Bood Office Forms, etc. Woronece Bond * Cty ae — J ial Artists’ Papers Drawing Boards Papeterie Papers Strathmore Stationery for Men FOR YOUR SPECIAL Blue Print Papers Greeting Ceo Speciation Patent Office and Illustrating Tag Parchment onal Bristol Boards Jewelers’ s Boards Typewriter Papers PAPER USES Detail and Drawing Papers Lamp Shade Papers Special Finishes ing Papers Diploma Parchment Manuscript Covers Steel Plate for Photogravure ®Envelopes-to-match PAPER ES PA RT Oo F T H E PicCT URE a) eres your man- can your direct-advertising’sell"him r. your printed advertising the same advantage that a | good appearance gives a personal salesman . . . Yet : they are economical to use, for there are inexpensive Strathmore Papers for your everyday use as well as This is the chap you must have in mind when plan- ning your direct-by-mail advertising. He is the man who gets one copy of each of your folders, booklets, or sales letters .. . Any mailing that isn’t good enough to “sell” 4im—isn't good enough to “‘sell’”’ better Strathmore Papers for your finest printing. , the other folks on your mailing list. And they are easy to use, because their interesting 1 So he’s your man... if your advertising can “sell” colors and surfaces give delightful effects even with simple ) him! .. . There are a number of ways to make your direct- designs and printing. advertising effective . . . Some of them are expensive. Others In the Strathmore Handbook your printer will show you ) are difficult . . . But there is one easy, economical way to these fine papers. Select a few and ask him to make “dum- give your direct-advertising the power to secure favorable mies” of Strathmore Papers for your next mailing . . . And if attention and tell its story . . . That way is to use good printing you'd like suggestions in planning direct-advertising that “sells papers .. . Expressive Strathmore Papers . . . The lovely colors, its man”, write for a free copy of “Sell More with Strathmore” unique textures and quality “feel” of all Strathmore Papers give . . . Strathmore Paper Co., 28 Bridge Street, Mittineague, Mass. I} Expressive |trathmore Papers ® =

Page 157

a SS Se * le (Continued from Page 154) don’t say anything to her about me. I didn’t tell her. Don’t you.” “Why not?” Tony urged. “It’s all right. You've been fine. I ——’” “It'd make her unhappy, thinking about me,”’ the gunman replied. “She knows I’ve always expected we’d team up, by and by. I had a lot of plans, what we’d do together. We've talked about it. But that’s out now.” His eyes were swimming; he made a dismissing gesture with both hands. “That’s out, clean! My outfit and hers won’t mix from now on.” He looked at Tony steadily, added: ‘Only, if you don’t play the game, I'll take a hand. See?” “T will,” the boy promised. “I'll play the game.” His heart was aching for the other’s grief. “Don’t say anything about me to her,” the little man repeated. “She knows I figured on something different from this, but if you don’t ever talk about me, she’ll forget it by and by.” “You wouldn't want her in your line,” Tony suggested, in an awkward attempt at comfort. But the mild young man came flaming to his feet. ‘“‘Want her?” he cried; and all the passion in him was blazing in his eyes. “Want her? Blast you, I want her worse than anything in the world! See?” Tony, too, had risen, at the other’s sudden movement; and for a space they confronted each other silently, like two antagonists. Then Tony thrust out his hand. “You’reallright,” hesaidsoftly. “You're fine!” But the other only glared at him. “I don’t like a hair of your head,” he ejacu- lated. “I wouldn’t throw you a rope if you were drowning. But if she wants you, she’s going to have you, and you’re going to play the game!” He caught up his hat, swung toward the door, stopped there to speak one more word. “So get your coat on and go find her, kid,” he said grimly. “And go straight! Keep her happy! You won't see me again, but I'll be around.” Tony took one step toward him. “But shake on it, old man,” he urged. “After all, we’re both fond of her!” The gangster hesitated, shook his head at last. “That can wait,” he decided, “till we see how you come along!” And a moment later the door shut si- lently behind the little man. There remains only epilogue. These things occurred in February. Another February came, and March, and April, and May. Spring drifted softly up the river. The forsythia’s golden blossoms gleamed and faded, the yellow petals littering the ground; and the trees began to wear a lacy green. Young Tony Dade stayed late, one after- noon, in his office in the mill; and he was very busy, as he was now apt to be. The machinery had fallen silent almost an hour ago; the great building was empty. But Tony still sat at his desk, scribbling figures on a pad, totting them up, assorting them again. When the telephone rang, he picked up the instrument inattentively, and his eyes and his thoughts were still on these figures when he spoke in answer to the call. But when he heard the voice on the wire he forgot his work; he took the telephone in both his hands, almost tenderly. ‘Oh, it’s you, Nell,” he whispered, and his lips were smiling with delight. “You haven’t started? I’m so glad!” she cried. “T’ll leave here in ten minutes,” he promised. ‘‘ Everything all right at home?” “Fine!” THE SATURDAY “Twins all right, are they?” “Tucked in for the night,” she assured him proudly. ‘And Anthony looks more like you every day.” “He’s a buster, eh? Some boy!” “But Tony, dear,” she said urgently. “Ves?” “Listen, dear! An old friend of mine is in town. The best in the world. I want you to bring him out to dinner. Will you?” “T sure will,” he promised, and checked tne quick question on his tongue. There had always been between them an un- spoken agreement not tc discuss this old life of hers. She never spoke of it, nor did be. It was for her now if she chose to let down the bars. “Tt’s no one you know,” she told him. “But he’s always been wonderful to me. As good as a—as a mother, Tony. He’sa hoofer in vaudeville. You know, a soft- shoe dancer. His name’s Lester Coyby. He’s playing Springfield; and he’s coming cut between shows on the traction. He has to be back there by 9:20, but we can run him in to the theater, can’t we?” “Sure!” Tony promised. “We'll stay and see his act, if you want.” “No, I'll have to hurry home. The babies might wake up. He’s coming out on the traction, Tony; on the car that gets to the square at 6:13; and I said you'd meet him there.” “How will I know him?” Tony asked. “He says he knows you by sight,” she explained. Tony nodded. “Right! Then I'll have to hurry.” He chuckled. “Here, sweet. Take this!” “And this!” she responded softly. So he hung up the receiver and turned to his work again, but he was still smiling, th'nking of her. At eight minutes past six he left the mill and drove up River Street to the square; and it was only then that he | began to speculate about Lester Coyby. | It was like Nell, he thought, to be so loyal. She was this, and all the other things that she should be too. Three or four people got off the car, and Tony stood waiting for one of them to ap- | | | oroach him. Then a little man he had not | seen touched him on the arm, and he ooked down and his heart checked its beat. For this was Pip Flint, the gangster, the protection man. Tony was dumb with astonishment and | quick alarm. He was in some respects a stupid young man, and his thoughts were all confusion now. Then the little man said quietly: “‘ Hello, Tony.” And he grasped the other’s limply dangling hand. Tony stammered: “Oh, hello!” His eyes scanned the departing figures of the passengers. “I’m looking for a man,” he explained. “‘A friend of Nell’s. Maybe you know him. A fellow named Lester Coyby.” The other nodded in cheerful surprise. | “Why, sure, Tony,” he returned. ‘“‘That’s me!” Tony stood rigidly; but he was not always slow of comprehension; and almost instantly he understood. This was, after all, simple enough. Pruno Banalian, for the sake of impressing Tony, had lied. Tony understood, and he chuckled, and then he laughed aloud and caught Lester by the arm and led him toward the road- ster at the curb. ““What’s the joke?” the little man asked when they were in the car. Tony laughed again, stoutly shook his head. “It’s on me!” he cheerfully con- fessed. ‘Or maybe on Bruno, if you look at the way it has turned out. A joke, any- way, and a peach! But, old man, it’s one I’ll never tell!” EVENING POST 157 Os _— -- f G te = >>." / SS VERY MINUTE counts—when machines are idle and there’s an important belt to be laced. It's amazing how quickly, how easily, how efficiently belts can be laced with the Clipper No. 6 Speed Lacer. This remarkable machine, introduced less than a year ago, is already standard lacing equipment in well system- ‘ atized factories throughout the entire industrial world. Laces both ends of any belt from one to six inches in width in ninety seconds. Weighs but 56% Ibs., yet applies, smoothly and uniformly, a pressure of 37,500 lbs. without injury to the fibres of the belt. And it can be operated by a single shopman. Price $75.00 (in United States of America) (Furnished with stand at an additional cost} Whatever your shop requirements, there's a Clipper Lacer to meet them eficiently —lacing the smallest of belts up to the big beavier and wider ones. And the use of Clipper Pins and Clipper Hooks ensures a perfect, lasting joint. For complete demonstration communicate with your nearest dealer or with the Clipper Belt Cacer Company GRAND RAPIDS 7) SET TAC | N26 Speed Sacer

Page 158

158 THE SATURDAY a ; an A the gf . in these a smart new styles You'll find just what you want in Munsingwear . . . style, com- fort, quality and economy . . . and in any type of garment you or your figure prefers... knit or woven union suits, or shirts and shorts. You'll find style and colors that click, in a rainbow range of masculine combinations. You'll find garments in selected cotton yarns, in mercerized, in mixtures . . . and many models in the marvelous new Munsingwear Rayon in white and in colors. There’s a fine fit that’s tailored in . . . no binding, no bunch- ing... no creeping, no cussing... just cool comfort. And all the old familiar wear that has made Munsingwear so famous. There’s just what you want in Munsingwear. See the Munsingwear merchant in your community. UNSING Car Let Munsingwear Cover You with Satisfaction MUNSINGWEAR MINNEAPOLIS Enjoy cool comfort EVENING POST May 25,1929 CAPTAIN DOLLAR (Continued from Page 4) Here was his first big chance! So he brought the logs down in record time, until they came to a ninety-foot falls, but there they got caught in the whirlpool below. Working hard and fast with his men, he succeeded in saving most of the logs by running into the water with lines and hook- ing them out of the whirlpool with “dogs.” But for nearly 100 miles upriver the rest of the logs were coming still. What should he do? A steep sluice ran around from above the falls, and from the local govern- ment man he got permission to let his logs come through that way. They came smoothly at first, and faster and faster, for the slide was very steep. He yelled to his men above: “Let ‘em come!” For he | wished to make up for the time he had lost. But the logs soon jammed in the steep slide; and the water, seeking an out- let, turned and rushed straight into and through a little match factory close by. Out came the angry owner and his 100 workingmen. The explosion lasted quite a while. “If you'll only quit talking and give me a chance, I’ll break that jam,” young Dol- lar said. It was a dangerous business, loosing logs in that steep slide; but he managed it; they came through with a rush and the water ran down the sluice as before. Then the factory owner said: “T certainly gave you hell, young man, and I want to take it all back. You've ruined my factory for a while, but I take off my hat to the job you've put through.” He managed the rest of the drive all | right; and the next year, at twenty-two, he | was made foreman of a camp of forty. His | pay was twenty-six dollars a month. Pay was especially low at the time because of the depression which, even up in Canada, was following our Civil War. He had heard little of the war, for far up there in the big pine woods they went without mail for months at a time. “‘ We lived in a world of our own,” he said. There he was now a lumber-camp boss, and in the roughest school on earth he learned how to depend on his own resources and how to get work out of men. “A man away deep in the forest, running a camp of forty,” he told me, “had to learn to think quickly at times. It was a case of getting things done—often things you’d never tried before. I came into camp one night and found one. of our men with a broken leg. I had never seen a leg set before, nor had anybody in the crew. There wasn’t a doctor in eighty miles and the man lay groaning on the ground. But with the help of one of the boys I fixed up some cedar splints, and we set that leg and bandaged it tight. And a doctor told me afterward that it was about as good a job as he could have managed himself.” Staving Off Labor Troubles There were other accidents in the woods and on the river. Once three of his men were drowned in swift water just above a waterfall. It was only quick thinking that saved the rest. He was a skillful pilot now of big rafts and cribs of logs down through the rapids on spring drives. He was good, too, at building dams and roads and rough log cabins. He worked hard from dawn till dark, and kept his accounts in the eve- | nings still; for to get the most out of his men he stayed right with them day and | night, talked to them in their own lan- guage, English or French, and called them all by their first names. “Personal contact—that’s the great thing,” he told me, speaking of those days. When he felt trouble brewing among the men, he would go out through the snowy woods and talk to them, alone or in couples. “T’d talk in a friendly way,” he said, “‘and | always succeeded in getting things right. I | learned that in the Canadian woods and I’ve held to it ever since. Don’t fight a man. Keep friendly. It pays.” In those five years his salary was raised to thirty-two dollars a month, and later on to forty-four dollars. And saving deter- minedly all the time, long before this, with his brother’s heip, he had paid all the installments on a 500-acre farm, which they gave to their parents for a home. Since then he had saved a good deal more, and he now decided to go into business for him- self. He had long been getting ready for this. He had kept up his figuring and writ- ing, and some reading too. Though he read the Bible still, he had cheap editions of Scott and Burns and several other standard authors. He reac them up in the woods, he said; and when he was down in the village, he learned to talk upon his feet, in the kirk or the small Masonic lodge of which he had become a member. But all this was on the side. The big thing he had learned was getting out timber. He must learn to sell it now. The Lesson of Black Friday He took a partner and went into busi- ness in 1872. North of Toronto, in a new country opened by the government, they bought timber on land owned by farm- ers and started lumbering at once, with a little office at Bracebridge. “We did not need much capital, for we did not have to pay our men till we got the timber to mar- ket,” he said. Business was booming and prices were rising, so they decided to hold their logs. But then Black Friday came on Wall Street. When he heard of it, up in the woods, he thought very little about it at first; but the panic caused a depression which spread even into Canada. “Word came up to me,” he said, “that the bottom had dropped out of the market. We started driving down our logs, and it was the worst drive of my life. Not only were all my sav- ings gone but I had no money to pay my men. They took my notes and I made them good. But it was a lesson I’ve never for- gotten. I could have sold at a decent profit, but I was young and lost my head and waited in hopes we would make a big haul. So I got wiped out. It served me right. Always take a fair price. Don’t speculate. It made me cautious—a fine thing. For I’ve been a pioneer all my life, and a pio- neer needs to learn caution while young.” His share of the less was $2500 and he found himself in debt. To pay it off, he took a job as manager of ten lumber camps, at $100 a month, and this he held for three years. Meanwhile he had married Mar- garet Proudfoot in 1874. She was eight years younger, born in Canada of Scotch blood, a good Presbyterian and a bright, able, thrifty girl, who has been his close companion and greatest helper ever since. “‘She helped me,”’ he said, “energetically to save up our money and pay off my debts.” In Bracebridge they took a little house, and there, in three years, from his salary, they paid all his debts and lived on the rest. “It wasn’t hard at all,” she told me. “We had no children at that time. I did all the housework. Our wants were few. For life was simpler in those days, and just as happy. We were every bit as comfort- able as we are now. We had everything we wanted. I’ve got some of that old furniture still.” Her husband declares that he dates his success from the day he married her. By 1876 he had found another business part- ner, who put up the required cash; and their business increased till they had eight camps in the Muskoka region. His life was hard and strenuous still. One of their camps was on an island far out upon Geor- gian Bay. In the fall they sent men and teams and food for the winter out by boat; and in March a letter came from the fore- man, brought by an Indian over the ice. The fodder was nearly gone, he wrote, and they must have more or the horses would die. Captain Dollar bought four loads of (Continued on Page 161)

Page 159

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 159 SERVE THE GROWING SOUTHWEST MARKET FROM DALLAS—THE CENTER* WHAT IS THE SOUTHWEST? What does it Offer You? EOGRAPHICALLY, ‘‘The Southwest"’ comprises a group of four Southern and Western states —Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Louisiana. Climate, raw materials and power resources are basically similar although having some wide variations. Commercially, the Southwest is a market empire—one of America’s greatest unit markets, with 12 mil- lion people and annual buying power of more than 6 billion dollars. On thousands of ‘‘distribution maps”’ in executive Offices the country over, “the Southwestern District”’ figures prominently in setting—and realiz- ing—sales quotas. Figuratively, ‘“The Southwest"’ de- notes a certain progressive spirit, a youthful viewpoint—opportunity! There's a pioneering, forward-look- ing spirit of ambition that character- izes the Southwest and its people. Large in territory, in population, in resources and present market actuali- ties, yet the Southwest is in its youth —a lusty, aggressive, rapidly devei- oping youth that promises much. The Southwest is a growing territory, a growing market. It is ripe for more complete industrialization. Its raw materials, its fuel and power re- sources, its large available labor sup- ply, coupled with a present market of tremendous proportions, combine to present American industry with * GEOGRAPHICAL CENTER manufacturing opportunities such as were available in the North and East 25 and 50 years ago—opportunities to grow with a growing market. Datias—fortunately located in the very heart of the great Southwest empire—is distribution, industrial and financial center of the South- west. As the Southwest grows, so grows Datias. Therefore, we are presenting the facts of this great market—its sales and manufacturing advantages—in a book, ‘A Complete Market Analysis of Dallas and the Great Southwest.” Executives will find chis book invalu- able. Based on the study and findings of leading Eastern industrial engi- neers, it is the most unusuai book ever compiled for industrial develop- ment seer. It would cost any manufacturer, as it has cost us, thou- sands of dollars to collect independ- ently the authoritative data available in this book. Mail the coupon—or write us on your business letterhead for your copy now. free TO EXECUTIVES SECCR ESSE STEER ERE TEEREREEREEET FORTHE ROH ERC RSET EE TO RRR O Ree INDUSTRIAL DALLAS, Inc., 1400 Chamber of Commerce Bidg., Dallas. eeeeeeereerere Mail free copy of “A Complete Market Analysis of Dallas pos pO Great Southwest’’ co | TRANSPORTATION CENTER “a ; DisTRIBUTION CENTER ina ; Raw Materia CENTER - ; j PopuLaTion (Lasor) CENTER Company : Fug, AND Power CENTER : - C (5 Southwestern Headquarters to American Address : | INDUSTRIAL CENTER | Business — 1,892 national and sectional : FINANCIAL CENTER | concerns maintain branches in Da.cas. PTTTT ITI)

Page 160

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 Juced to § cents for the first ounce and 10 cents for each additional ounce. Use airmail daily for quicker communication. The development of Aviation is vital to American progress. i60 Airmail postage has been reduce: Nothing Finer Can Be Said of Any otor Vehicle Than, LYCOMING MANUFACTURING CO. WILLIAMSPORT, PENNSYLVANIA 2 pe re ~) Sie oe ey Betas vee oe nes Basar i The future of Aviation largely depends upon its source of supply

Page 161

= -—— oe eee — (Continued from Page 158) hay and started with teams on the sixty- mile journey out upon the frozen lake. A snow blizzard struck them out there and he steered by a compass and a chart. But as night drew on and the storm grew blinding, he brought the four loads of hay together in a hollow square; and lighting a lantern, he found by his map that there should be a small rocky island only about a mile away. He took an ax and started for it, hoping to get firewood, but the icy wind soon drove him back toward camp. He missed it, struggled on alone, slipped and fell and struck his head. He was unconscious for a time. Then, rising on one elbow, he caught sight of land close by. He managed to get there and gather some wood, and into a pocket frozen tight he slowly forced his numb right hand until he found two matches. He lit a fire, thawed: himself out and slept exhausted through the night. The dawn broke clear and he caught sight of his teams some dis- tance off, a mere dark spot upon the snow. When he reached them, he found his men had burned one load of hay to keep warm, and had lost their provisions. They wished to go home, but he urged them on, and they reached his island camp toward nightfall of the following day. The next morning he could not move from his bunk till his men had rubbed and kneaded him. He had saved the starving horses, but for weeks after getting home he went about with a swollen hand. He showed it to a doctor at last, and learned that one of the bones was broken. It was the hand that had gripped that ax in the storm! Selling to the Consumer The next year, 1880, he began to get out square timber for England—long timbers twelve by twelve or larger, cut out of the logs of the big white pines. Only the larg- est trees would do. “It was a massacring of the forests,” Captain Dollar told me. “They all did it in those days, and so did I, but it never was right.” But the market needed timber like that, and he was keenly interested in the timber market now. It went stretching away all over this country and across to England, too, and more and more he studied it. At the start he had sold a small part of his logs f. a. s.—Free Alongside Ship—to local jobbers and ex- porters. But he had sold hardly any that way; for he knew he could get better prices by going past these middlemen; so he rafted whole timbers to Tonawanda, near Buffalo, and sold them there; and later he chartered small lake vessels and sailed or towed his timber to the foot of Lake Ontario; there rafted it through the St. Lawrence and down the Lachine Rapids to THE SATURDAY Quebec, where hesold it at first tothe export- | ers. But why not save their profit too? So | he chartered a sailing ship to England and | there sold timber C. I. F.—Charges, Insur- | ance and Freight delivered. He went | abead on a faster boat, and after hard search, he found a market in Manchester, with a big manufacturing firm. “It was not easy, but at last I made them believe in me,” he said—‘“‘that I could sup- ply what they wanted—only the best and biggest white pine. I had much to learn stJl, and many troubles, difficulties large and small. But I won the confidence of that firm in Manchester, and of customers in Liverpool; and I gained the confidence, teo, of banks back hame in Canada, so that they would carry me. Men trusted me be- cxuse I made good, and I soon iearned the value of that; but it was a difficult job those days, and it needed grit and energy.” A Deal in Flapjacks His widening operations kept him almost constantly traveling now. And here is a sample of one of his trips. To be sure that he could make good on a certain order for white pine, in the early spring of 1881, he visited one of his camps up the Serpent River. He went 250 miles by team, sleep- ing out at night, and had to do the last thirty-five miles in one day on foot through slush and snow. On reaching the camp he found a fine lot of white-pine timber. All ©. K. So he let them stamp the dollar sign, his trade-mark, on each one of the logs. Then he took twelve of the crew, who were not needed for the spring drive, and started with them back to Bracebridge, along Lake Fiuron and Georgian Bay. The ice had gone out in the lake, so they tramped through the forest in the snow, until their rations were reduced to only one small cake of meal to last each man for three long hard days. It was cold at night, the lake froze again, and they could walk on it in the mornings, but by afternoon their moccasins sank through the crust into slush below. At last the starving men gave out, but he struggled on alone to a wigwam, where he found an Indian squaw who spoke neither English nor French. He told her in signs that some men were coming, and asked her for flapjacks. She made a few. Then he pointed to his distant crew, slowly epproaching over the snow. At sight of EVENING POST Patented She knows her groceries ~and how to carry them / Every doy thousands of housewives buy Cosh ond Kori-keen!” *“—and ten pounds of sugar and a veck of those potatoes.” Thus the thrifty hostess concludes her large order of groceries, all to be placed in the big, roomy Kari-Keen Luggage Karrier. And that is only one use for this spacious container for your baggage. them she threw up her hands, for she had * Kari-Keen is just the place for picnic three children and feared the men would take all her food—only twenty pounds of flour and one enormous frozen fish. But he hid enough for herself and the children, and promised in signs to bring more on the morrow. Then she cooked, and the men arrived and devoured her flapjacks like so many wolves. He forced them te go on that Second Street, Sar Francisco, 1865 | baskets and the dripping ice cream | freezer. It's the safe, convenient way | to carry traveling bags, camping out- fits, small machines and tools, sales- men’s equipment—indeed, anything you wish to carry in its large space of 7) to 89 square feet. (Two sizes.) Weather- proof covers are available for use when KARI-KEEN 2101 East 7th St. TRADE MARK REG. U.S. PAT. OFFICE KAS Closed View open, When used closed it gives you the same carrying space as a standard ‘ . auto trunk. Capacity, 400 pounds. Lacquer Colorsto Match Your Car Lustrous Chromium Trimmings A Kari-Keen installation looks like a built-in, custom job, adding style, beauty and longer lines to any car. It is built of steel with brilliant chro- mium trimmings and finished in black or, at small additional cost, beautiful lacquer colors to match any car. For all models since 1925. ‘Sold inter- nationally. Your car dealer will be glad to demonstrate the new Kari-Keen Luggage Karriers. Ask him! MFG. CO., Inc. Sioux City, lowa je Fe ene The Baggage Car of ne abito | (eimim

Page 162

Bring own livingroom DAV LAVROV —— SS = THs unique machine scientifically duplicates nature’s own method of pleasantly purifying the air you breathe. It makes Ozone—and it delicate- ly scents the air with the odor of pine forests at the same time! VapoZone deodorizes and revital- izes air—it destroys all foul odors— it removes cooking smells in a few | | used PURE, MOUNTAIN AIR nto 2 your THE SATURDAY night to some mills about ten miles away, and from there the next day he sent back to the squaw four times the flour they had Starting right on for another camp, he made forty-five miles on snowshoes that day and did not get in till late at night. The next morning he looked over the tim- ber, and then went on by team to a village, | reaching it at midnight. The roads were breaking up again, and impossible for the team, so the following day he walked thirty | miles, often ankle deep in mud; and next morning he was busy hiring men in Brace- bridge for the spring drives in his other | eamps—apparently none the worse for his | trip. He said of that life: “Tt was a survival of the fittest, and only the strongest were able to come out of it alive.” Large timber was now growing scarce, | so, in 1882, he moved down to Marquette, | Michigan. When I asked him if he became 'an American citizen down there, he | chuckled and replied: “I did. The politicians saw to that. They got right after me for my vote, so I took out my papers at the end of that first | year.” He built a sawmill deep in the forest, cut | large timber for England and used ‘the | balance of the logs for lighter lumber, which he sold to Chicago, Detroit and | Buffalo. He was selling not only in Man- chester now but in Glasgow and Liverpool. He had no agent over there. ‘I still went | with my timber myself,” he said. On one such trip he took his wife, and they went up to Falkirk, the ancient town where he | had been born. He gave them a public library. Upon visiting his old home, he found the garden a lumberyard, and there he discovered timber with the Dollar mark on it, which he himself had taken out on the shores of Lake Huron and sold in Quebec. A Picture That Proved a Frost He made several other trips abroad, and at home he was always traveling too—on lakes and on rivers, by road and by rail, with horse and on foot with Indian guides. In 1887, according to his diary, he traveled _ 29,100 miles by water, 1050 by rail and 991 by team. Meanwhile, along with his own affairs, he had managed the Michigan busi- ness of a large Canadian company. . “I was mighty busy,” he said, “and every dollar I could save I put into govern- | ment timber land, which I bought at $1.25 | an acre.” moments—and it fills the air with | healthful, life-giving, germ-destroy- ing oxygen. Electrically operated, of letter a. Beautiful Bakelite Walnut-finish case. pitals, Lavatories, etc. Send the for the whole story af VapoZone. SINCLAIR-COX COMPANY, Inc. Guardian Bldg. Cleveland, Ohio Tre WapoLore PLEASANTLY PURIFIES THE AIR YOU BREATHE SINCLAIR-COX COMPANY, Iac Guardian Bidg., Cleveland, Ohio Please send me. entirely i story of VapoZone | and what it Noi in my: Home 0 Office O Theatre () Restaurant () Hotel, etc. 1) DOIG sn .a.ssesaccosineiriinreeneans tag eaieabarmmrininine saat pT Te CF encthererssdieranrcrmreenenstvonncettinsshttnamnneeisiniansiaitaiincas State === But by 1888, the large timber he wanted was hard to find. Moreover, the strain had begun to tell and he no longer stood so well the terrific winters there. So, in the next occupies no more space than a sheet | tW° oF three years, he cloned up his Michi- gan business, selling at a handsome profit | some 20,000 acres of land. And meanwhile | he took his wife and children out to Cal- Ideal for Homes, Offices, Restau- | rants, Hotels, Theatres, Clubs, Hos- | ifornia. They went to Los Angeles at first, EVENING POST but while looking for a home, in a real- estate office one day he saw a large picture of a house surrounded by snow, with huge icicles hanging from the roof. “Where's that?” he asked. “Oh, that is up in San Francisco,”’ the Los Angeles booster said. But the home- seeking lumberman had learned: that San Francisco was the principal lumber market of the Coast; so he went up there, and liked it and got a home at San Rafael. “T’ve lived there ever since,” he said, “and I’ve never seen an icicle yet!” Soon afterward, with two partners, he bought the largest tract of redwood in Sonoma County, set up a mill and started cutting the giant trees—some several thou- sand years of age. “I’m mighty glad,” he told me, “‘that we did not cut them all.” A part of the tract became, later on, the grove of the Bohemian Club, for their an- nual High Jinks. Meanwhile, in 1893, he sold out his interest there; for his lumber- man brether died, so Robert took over his mill at Markham, up on the Russian River, and ran it for his brother’s estate. The next year he bought a part interest, too, in a mill among the redwoods at Usal, Mendo- cino County, and put in nearly half his time up there. Coming up from San Fran- cisco on a schooner to that rocky coast, from the vessel he would be hauled in a sling on a long cable to the shore. “He wore high boots in those days,”’ said a friend, ‘‘and he lost no time in getting in through the mill to the forest. He'd be in- specting some work in the woods before the rest of us got ashore.” Great vigilance was needed in cutting those giant redwood trees. The tree must miss all stumps in its fall; for if it struck one, it would smash to a mass of splinters and pulp. So they cut in a manner to guide its fall; and to be sure they were cut- ting right, a man would climb into the great cut, with a hinged triangle of steel behind him. It was called “a gunning stick.” Bringing the top of the triangle slowly forward over his head, he would sight over the top of it and so make sure their aim was right. The huge logs were hauled out on skids by teams of many oxen. Two of the bulls broke loose one day and started to tear down the camp. “It was Sunday,” said a friend, “and Captain Dollar was reading his Bible out there under a redwood tree. He laid it, still open, on the ground, quickly joined in the chase of the bulls, and used all the won- derful language he’d learned back in the Canadian woods. Then, when the brutes were caught at last, he came back to the Book he had left and was soon absorbed in it as before.” Using oxen to haul the logs, he decided, was out of date and it cost too much; so he bought a donkey engine, ordered a spe- cial wire rope and tried hauling them that way. When his cable broke, he bought one stronger, and a stronger engine, too, and went on with his experimenting. For he May 25, 1929 was that kind of man. In his long career as a lumberman since, he has tried in num- berless other ways to save time and labor in the woods. So have many other men. “And our methods today,” he told me, “have as little to do with those of that time as this skyscraper office building of ours has to do with a cabin in the woods.” Long before this he had opened an office in San Francisco—one small room on the third floor—and had hired as his office boy Hugo Lorber, a lad of seventeen, who has stayed with him ever since and is secretary and treasurer of the big Dollar Company today. By that time, 1893, he was dealing both in redwood and in wany—sugar pine—logs, which he exported in chartered ships around the Horn to the United King- dom, selling on consignment to his former customers in Liverpool, Glasgow and Lon- don. He bought a part interest, too, in a lumberyard in Los Angeles and traded all up and down the Coast. So far, he had used only chartered ships, but now he de- cided that he could save by owning a vessel of his own. And so, in 1893, he bought the Newsboy, a little steam schooner of only 260 tons. He found that with her he could halve the cost of transporting his lumber along the Coast; and besides, he was one of the seagoing Melvilles and it was good to get back to the sea. But one of his first voyages was very nearly disastrous. On Again, Off Again “When we came to Usal,”’ he said, ‘“‘we found the sea so heavy that we couldn't get in to the wharf, so we stayed out all night in the storm. The next day the wharf was gone, so we went on to Fort Bragz, to try to get a cargo there, but saw a signal up: ‘Don't land.’ Later they signaled that we might try it, but close to the entrance of the harbor a big sea swept us onto the reef. I shouted to Captain Fosen: ‘Chris, look out for that reef!’ But the next minute we struck with a crash that broke all the doors and windows. And there we hung. I looked over the rail and saw right beneath me the naked rocks, so I called down into the engine room, ‘Come on up, boys, she’s go’n’ to go!’ As I was cutting the lifeboat ropes, the captain yelled: ‘Look out! Hang on!’ As he spoke, an enormous comber swept over us. I shut my eyes, and when I could get them open again, we were in harbor steaming to dock! For that comber had lifted us over the reef!” Captain Fosen has been with him ever since. “Captain Dollar at that time,” he said, “had thick reddish hair and beard. He was only about fifty years old and a good deal heavier than today; and he was the most observant man on shipboard that I ever knew. He was never seasick, no mat- ter what the weather, and he was always out on the decks or down in the engine room. He spent a large part of his time down (Continued on Page 166) PUBLISHED BY SNOW AND COMPANY, 20 POST STREET, SAN FRANCISCO San Francisco in 1849 OLG

Page 163

OLA _— ——p eT eee Coror, COLOR, COLOR, everywhere you look! On your own furniture, woodwork and floors — “GI? Quick Drying Enamel. DRIES in 4 hours. Stays where you put it—durable and waterproof. Pastel tints, vivid colors, and by simply mixing, any shade you want! So easy to use; just brush it on — no worry about streaks or brush marks. It’s an OIL enamel; flows eut smooth, free from blemish. You'll like its clean odor! See the beguiling colors of “61° Quick Drying Enamel at your paint or hard- ware dealer’s. Or send for Color Chart — it’s free. PRATT & LAMBERT-INC., 83 Tonawanda St... Buffalo, N. Y. In Canada, 25 Courtwright St., Bridgeburg, Ont. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LAMBERT VARNIJH PRODUCTS

Page 164

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 WINGS OVER op

Page 165

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE NATION:::::-and new proof of the importance of FINE MOTOR OIL all N/ SC -- famous aviators: experienced motorists --- and now awhole nation of car owners have discovered the surprising results this 2OOO MILE OIL gives: -’ MAGINE!...a 300, 500, or even a 550 H. P. Airplane Motor winging through the air for 30 hours*... Pic- ture it in your mind. A compact, driving mass of whirring _ metal parts in endless motion... Fric- tion to tear most ordinary oil films to shreds... Hardly any wonder, is there, that aviators were so insistent in their demand for the finest motor oil—alu ays? The “expert” class of motorist was next in line. Engineers who create new * This number of running hours bas been reached and surpassed time after time in actual flying practice with Kendall Oil. The effective life of ordinary oil. under the same flying conditions, is usually about 10 or 15 hours. motor designs—master mechanics who know lubrication principles as a surgeon knows anatomy—veteran taxi-cab and bus men trained in the hard school of 24 hour driving... These men were as quick as the skilled aviator to switch to an oil that proved definitely better results. And now-—from the broad highways of California to the “Motor Park Way” on Long Island—on the highways and byways of the land—the average-man- who-drives is being convinced: First—that here at last is an oil that actually s different. iw Fesnetenis oils ave @ great advan- ‘ tage to start with. [eae Pee es ar But this oil has an even greater adven- tage. Up near Brad- ford, in Pennsylvania, there is an oil field that produces Bradforcl Grade Crude. It is acknowl- mands the highest posted market price; there is 4 premium on every barrel. Kendali Oil is made entirely from this Bradford Grade of Crude. Second—that with Kendall he can go all of 2000 miles without once drain- ing the crankcase—he simply keeps oil to the proper level, that’s all! Two Thousand Miles—without oil re- fill? To the skeptical stranger it does sound incredible. But the proof will be in performance— in your own car if you will just drive to the nearest station displaying the Kendall trademark and fill up with Kendall—the 2000 Mile Oil. KENDALL REFINING COMPANY BRADFORD, PA. ure Leleye) MILI as the finest crude obtainable; it com- OT!

Page 166

166 CLEAN TO USE 6 TIMES MORE LASTING N° MESSY spilling with new non-liquid lighter fuel, simply squeeze the tube . . . Fill any type pocket or table lighter. Ly terlife lasts six times longer than liquid fuels . . . can’t leak, evaporate or explode . . . burns clear and white, without smoke, carbon or residue. Large tube ... sold everywhere. Art Meta! Works, Inc., Aronson Square, Newark, N. J. In Canada: Dominion Art Metal Works, Ltd., 64-66 Princess St., Toronto, Ont. A RONSON PRODUCT LYTERLIFE THE NON-LIQUID LIGHTER FUEL Lyterlife, the non-liquid fuel, is protected by U. 8. patents pending. Our original U. 8: patent No. 1084386 covers lighters using zalid lighter fuel. U. 8. and foreign rights covered by other patents pending. | \l! infringements will be vigorously prosecuted. THE SATURDAY T Le ‘a N O N - L | Q U | D there, sms ko unhontead one a like LIGHTER FUEL brothers. We carried a crew of seventeen; | and working our own cargo in port, we went up and down the Coast from Usal to San Pedro, and we brought back telegraph poles. Coming out of there once in a thick fog, we struck on the end of the break- water. Captain Dollar was down in the engine room, but he came streaking up on deck, jumped into a boat with two of the crew, and wenc off in the fog for a tug. I tell you, he was a hustler! “‘He came with us whenever he could, and he always had us on his mind. One day up at Usal there was a big storm. We had loaded only two-thirds of a cargo, but we | didn’t have much coal, and so were afraid | to stay on that coast. For the storm had ' risen to a gale. So we came back here to San Francisco Bay and tied up at Sausalito, about the middle of the night. I was wor- ried about the cargo we'd left, for the captain liked the Newsboy stowed with every stick of timber she’d take. But at daybreak I heard him overhead. He had come all the way from San Rafael in a | drenching rain. “*Hello,’ he said. “*Captain,’ I answered, ‘I had to come back without a full cargo.’” In the Klondike Trade “*T don’t care if you didn’t bring a stick!’ the Old Man cried. ‘I knew you didn’t have enough coal, and I’ve been ly- ing awake all night, thinking about you boys in that gale!’ “That’s the kind of a boss he was, and | that’s the kind he has been ever since. | People ask about the Dollar sign. We used it on the Newsboy first. She was so small | that when she lay among a lot of other | vessels, you couldn’t make her out in the dark. So I proposed to the captain that we paint something white on her stack. We used at first a Maltese cross, but then a friend of his suggested that we use the Dollar sign, which was the trade-mark on his timber. We did, and you can see it today on his big ships all over the globe.” In the next few years he bought or built several sailing fore-and-afters, and then two steam schooners, the Grace Dollar and Robert Dollar, boats of about 500 tons. I talked with the marine engineer who helped him plan and build them. “A very extraordinary man. He was quick, he was apt,” said the engineer, “and he had a natural love of the sea. In this work you can do little without it, but with | him you could see from the start that ships | were not only a business but a hobby and | passion, too; and of course, when that is the case, a man picks up information very rapidly. And he did. Some people will , smile and tell you about his Scotch frugal- | ity, but he was generous to his ships. If any repairs were ever required in the engine room, I needed only to explain the increased efficiency it would bring, and he would agree to it at once. He knew the functions of boilers, engines, circulating pumps, or if he didn’t, he soon found out. For his questions struck in deep. He had no super- ficial mind.” Soon after the Grace Dollar was built, ‘came the first big rush to the Klondike, in about 1896. And Captain Dollar saw his chance. To fit her for the Klondike trade, he built a shelter deck on her and he crowded in the bunks; but even so, there was not space for the frantic Klondikers waiting at dock. “Those were hectic times,” he told me. “One night three men came out to my house and said: “We’re determined to go on your ship.’ She was sailing the next day. ‘Every bunk on her is taken,’ I said. But they answered: “Then we'll sleep on the floor.” Crowded with passengers every trip, she ran from San Francisco and Seattle to St. Michael and Kotzebue Sound, and she paid for herself in that first year. I chartered her to two men for only half the summer season and they paid me half her cost.” EVENING POST Meanwhile he was building the Robert Dollar, and he finished her just in time for the next big rush—to Nome. He bought also a wooden passenger boat of about 1500 tons and put her into the same trade. She took 400 passengers every trip. “He ripped the bar out of her,”’ one of his captains told me, “but he couldn’t keep the boys from bringing their own liquor on board. Quite a few of the tenderfoot class came on with guns stuck in their belts. The old-timers kept ’em out of sight. Half of ’em gambled all night long. We carried full cargoes of provisions, mining equip- meiit, gambling and bar-room layouts. Yes, sir, those were wild old days!” After the rush to the Klondike and Nome came the Spanish-American War, which again brought a great demand for ships. It took most of the big coasting vessels off to Manila and so left the coastwise trade to smaller craft, like those Robert Dollar owned. ““When I began to work for him,” an- other of his captains said, “he was getting on toward sixty. His hair was gray and his chin beard was as white as it is now. But if he were down in San Pedro, even though it took twice as long as the train, he’d come up with me on the boat, and would spend his time on the bridge or down in the engine room. He was a great fellow to fire ques- tions; he kept learning every trip. One day, up north, I was bringing my ship, with a load of lumber, out of the Columbia River, to see if I could cross the bar; but it didn’t look safe in that heavy sea, so I was just about to turn back when I saw the Grace Dollar coming in. The Old Man was up on her bridge; and,as they passed, he waved to me to cross the bar and put out to sea. But I knew it was one thing to come in, and another to go out, that day; so I disobeyed him and turned back. Did he give me hell for it? He did not. For by the time we met ashore, he had learned more about that bar. “‘*Captain,’ he said to me, ‘I was a fool. You did just right and I’m mighty glad!’ That was him; he kept learning all the time. Though he was a great boy for speed, he was always for safety first. I remember he once put it like this: ‘Use your own judgment, captain, but let me tel! you how I feel. If you were in Gray’s Harbor with ten ships in heavy weather, and one came out over that bar and the other nine stayed in, and you were one of the nine that stayed, I’d say you'd used good judgment. If you were the one that got safely out, I would say you were nothing but a fool.’ I never sailed for a nicer man. He worked none of his ships in harbor on Sunday, and in the fall he’d say to me: ‘If you can get in before Christmas this year, you can stay a week with your family.’”’ Sticking to Business He bought and built other ships, sail and steam; and when I asked if he’d never been stuck, he thought a minute and then replied: “No, I can’t remember a time. You know, they say I’m pretty Scotch, and I don’t know but what they are right. I used my own pine in building ships and kept close watch of the whole job. I was always on the alert.” “He was,” agreed an old friend of his, “but combined with that, he honestly liked to believe in men, to believe they were square till they proved they were crooked. And this kept most of the crooked ones from trying any dirty work. Sometimes he would buy a ship, and would then sell shares in her, as was a common custom then. But he always kept the management. There were many in shipping at that time, but there’s only one Robert Dollar today. Why is it? How did he get where he is? Not only by tireless energy but by constant keen observation combined with the most amazing balance and common sense I’ve ever known.” In those last years his office had grown. He had two lumber salesmen now—one in San Francisco and another in Los Angeles. May 25,1929 His consulting engineer at first had looked after shipping repairs, but by this time that part of the work was being taken over by Melville Dollar, his oldest son. The father was against a college education for his three boys. While they were still in high school he had long serious talks with each one, and offered to teach them the business he loved; but they must start in at the bot- tom, he said, and learn lumber and ship- ping in every detail. Even while they were still in school, they spent a good part of their vacations in the office or down at the wharves; and later on, each one of them came to work for him regularly. It was a vigorous training school. Living out in San Rafael, Captain Dollar and his boys caught the 7:30 train and then ferried across the Bay, and were busy until night. “I spent the morning, as a rule, in the office or out around town,” he told me, “talking to customers, looking at ships. I had kept up my rule from the start to pay my bills on the day they came in, and this was bringing fine results. After luncheon I went to the Merchant’s Exchange, to charter a ship or get a cargo and to hear the latest news; for it was on the Exchange that most of the lumber freighting was done. In addition to my own, I was agent for several firms up north and wholesaled their lumber here.” Thinking Ahead There was much to be learned about that business; it needed quick calculating at times, for the market had its ups and downs. But he had learned caution from Black Friday and never got caught like that again. In the freighting there was keen competition, but not much rate cutting, he said. But he was constantly chartering ships, and he needed all his vigilance when it came to the charter party or lease. For the difference between profit and loss often lay in the time allowed to load and unload at the various ports—lay days, demurrage, and so on. His education proceeded fast. “‘When I knew him first, in 1900,” said a man on the Exchange, “in the matter of chartering a ship, nobody could beat him on this Coast. He was a great advance thinker. He could shut his eyes and see ahead that particular cargo and that ship on her whole voyage from start to finish. Working days, lay days, storms, acts of God—he’d figure ’em all and get ’em all in, till he was thoroughly protected. As a re- sult, he was never brought into court on a lawsuit that I can remember. He was a mighty canny old Scot. He looked just about as he does today, with the same old white chin whiskers; but he carried himself as straight as an arrow, and used to come up California Street a-lumping! He was the boy for work! If a vessel of his was re- ported from Point Lobos to our night man here, he had orders to ring up the captain at any hour of the night and tell him his ship was outside the Gate. If she docked at four A.M., he’d be there; and if some other ship of his was due to sail at six P.M., but got some extra cargo and didn’t sail till midnight, he’d stay right with her on the wharf, watching each stick of lumber come off and every box of cargo goin. He liked his ships to sail on time! “Punctuality was one of his gods, and another was sticking to his price. Often at first some broker would try to haggle him down a few cents a thousand on a cargo of lumber, but he’d hold out like a rock. He used to take some general cargo for little stores up along the Coast, but you couldn’t budge him a penny there. He’d carry your stuff for just so much. He’d figure it care- fully, knew it was fair, and you could take it or leave it, he said. He has been the same way ever since. When he gives you a price, he'll stick to it; even if it should go against him, his word is just as good as his bond. On the other hand, he has always been less careful in the loans he makes; for he has a big streak of kindness there. Once, just before Christmas, he came to a friend who had struck some mighty hard times, and (Continued on Page 168) ed

Page 167

—— ee . A AT cece 2 eee ne cee | ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 167 RONSON LIGHTER STARTS NEW FAD Ronson owners, enthusiastic about this lighter, have started a new indoor game. All over the country you will find them chal- lenging owners of other lighiers to a miss-and-out contest. ““FOR THIRTY MINUTES WE HAD PLAYED THE LIGHTER GAME, THERE IN THE CLUB CAR OF THE BROADWAY LIMITED” "It’s a shame to take the money A RONSON lights every time «yr we hadn’t pulled into Penn. Sta- tion for another hour, I might have made expenses from Chicago. “For thirty minutes we had played the Lighter Game, there in the club car of the Broadway Limited. “My lighter was the only Ronson, and I won steadily. I told them it was a shame to take the money. But they were unconvinced that a Ronson lights every time. “Well, they found out—and paid me. FLIP... isn | RELEASE... is Out | “Lucky there wasn’t another Ronson Lighter in the crowd, or the battle would have ended in a draw.”’ The Ronson is just as easy to light as it is sure to light. It has no cap to lift, no wheel to spin. Just press and it lights —in the flick of an eye. Release, and it’s out. No soiled fingers, no need for an educated thumb. Keep the flint and the fuel renewed, and your Ronson goes right on working without a miss for years, because it is RONSON Delight THE WORLD'S GREATEST LIGHTER | made as sturdy as a steel die, yet as precise as a fine watch. Styles for men and women, for busi- ness, sport and evening use, as well as table models, in scores of beautiful fin- ishes, many of them priced at five dollars, and ranging up to $3,000 for jeweled presentation models. Art Metal Works, Inc., Aronson Square, Newark, N. J. In Canada: Dominion Art Metal Works, Ltd., 64-66 Princess Street, Toronto, Ontario. [LIGHTS EVERYG TIME er . Ronson Table Lighter | iF Ronson Junior Sport & = Ronson Standard

Page 168

ee Catalog do your best customer justice ? OW about your best custom- er? Does your catalog do him justice? Remember, between your salesman’s calls it’s all he has to keep the contact . . . to order from . . . to sell from. Heinn has solved this problem . with its Loose-Leaf System of Catalog- ing. It shows you how you can have a real catalog . like the business leaders of the country are using. Ecc.

nomical . . . pract always up- to-date—a cat that will meet com- petition on equal terms. Yet this better system of cataloging is inexpensive. In a period of three to five years it will more than pay for it- self .. . by cutting your catalog costs. And many, mary times each year pay for itself . . . by increasing your sales. THE HEINN COMPANY Origmators of the Loose-Leaf System of Cataloging | | | | wa.binders MILWAUKEE DAY-BY-OAY CATALOGUES THAT LAST YEAR-AFTER-YEAR

THE HEINN COMPANY 352 Florida Sr., Milwaukee, Wis. Ws ots sending you a copy of our catalog

and will appreciate any constructive sugges- tions you care to make. (Lf you do not send catalog, write on your business letterhead.) Name o-ccorgoafetiiaiastaliaeelaaehn ceded i a EE SR RR

! THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 166) | tore up the man’s note and gave him the pieces. It was for $5000. ‘Jim, here’s a Christmas present,’ he said.” In those eight years since he purchased the Newsboy he had learned a lot about ships. Though not yet a big figure on the Coast, he owned several steam schooners, in addition to sailing ships, while his lum- ber trade was still growing. He had just bought more timberland, close to Mt. Shasta in California, and a sawmill at Everett, down on the shore of Puget Sound, to supply lumber for the Orient. For now, at the age of fifty-seven, he was thinking of trade in the Far East. He had made two trips to China to look into conditions before this. “T knew that if I went in,” he said, “I'd be in it all the rest of my life; for it would be a job of many years to build up business over there. So I wanted to be sure.” It took a lot of hard thinking and many long evening talks with his wife; for he valued her judgment in such things. At last he decided to try it out, and in i901 he bought his first big steamer, the Arab, a steel ship of 6500 tons. With characteristic caution, he did not send his own lumber at first; he chartered her out to another firm. But in drawing up the charter pact, for once in his life he did not stand pat; they haggled him down to a low rate and put conditions in the pact that reduced rates lower still. Worst of all, his ship could find but little cargo to bring back. So the voy- age was a loss; and he made up his mind, on the next trip, to take his own lumber and go himself, to get return cargoes and a closer knowledge of the East. Creating Business So, in 1902, he went with his wife to Japan and China, and filled letters home and his diary with detailed descriptions of harbors, river channels, docks, coaling and loading, both from the wharf and from the native sampans and junks. Foreign steam- ship companies were building wharves and terminals, and the big nations of Europe were grabbing concessions everywhere. It was just after the Boxer Rebellion and the Chinese were hostile still. He met foreign soldiers wherever he went. In Peking he was shown how the Temple of Heaven had been looted by Russian troops; and in Shantung he saw how the Germans, land- ing from their warships, had taken the peninsula and were getting ready for future trade. New railroads had been begun, and in cities shattered by the late fighting a lot of rebuilding was going on. So he saw a chance for the lumber trade. He was able EVENING POST to sell all the lumber he’d brought, but he could get almost nothing at first to carry home upon his ship. For American trade was not what it had been in the old Yankee-clipper days. Just before the Civil War our ships had been first on the Pacific, but later our best ener- gies had turned to developing the West, and discouraging shipping laws had been passed; and asa result of both these causes, not only our shipping but also our trade had dwindled to almost nothing in China, compared to what Europe was getting there. The only big American line coming into Shanghai was the Pacific Mail, dating from 1868 and running a fast, regular service for mail, passengers and freight, with rail con- nections on this side; for the Southern Pacific Railroad controlled a majority of the stock, and Harriman and Collis P. Huntington were behind it, people said. Later, in 1888, had come the Occidental and Oriental Company, sailing under the British flag, but backed by American cap- ital of the Crocker and Union Pacific group. And last, in 1898, had come the Toyo Kisen Kaisha, a company strongly subsidized by the Government of Japan. These three companies—first, the P. M. and the O. & O.; and later on, the T. K. K.—had com- bined to stagger their sailings and form a joint weekly schedule with about a dozen boats. Against this powerful combine, at Shang- hai, in 1902, came Robert Dollar with one slow ship, pioneering the sale of American lumber. They did not care to carry that— it was penalty cargo for passenger ships— but when he tried to get return cargoes, they cut rates to freeze him out. Then he began the policy which later brought him such success: “‘ Don’t fight unless you have to. Find new fields. Create new business.” Leaving an agent at Shanghai to sell his lumber on commission and get what low- class freights he could, Captain Dollar took his ship to Japan; for on the Chinese rail- roads he had noticed oak ties from Japan, and he thought he saw a new field there. On the island of Hokkaido, near the port of Muroran, he found many sawmills cut- ting the ties, which were hauled out on sledges over the snow, as in Canada and Michigan. The harbor near by was well protected and had room for many ships. Pleased with the quality of the oak, he took home with him six of the ties—the first Japanese oak to reach the Coast. There he tried them out ia his own mills; and when this proved satisfactory, he succeeded in getting a contract to deliver large quanti- ties of oak ties to the Southern Pacific, the selfsame road whose shipping line had kept him out of Shanghai! “Don’t fight unless May 25, 1929 you have to. Create new business if you can.” But he was taking no chances on the suc- cess of this new venture. So, in the next year, 1903, he went back to show the Japa- nese exactly what he wanted and make sure they gave him only the best. At the port of Muroran, though he was nearly sixty years old, he stood all day in a cold wind on the snow-and-ice-covered wharf and watched every tie that went into his ship. None of the Japs could speak any English, nor did he know a word of Japanese. “‘ But I did know good timber,”’ he told me. And every few moments his long lean hand would motion aside an imperfect tie. The Japanese stevedores kept smiling and chuckling to themselves. In Japan they had never seen a shipowner descend to such hard labor as this! But Captain Dol- lar got such good ties that the Southern Pacific ordered more. And later his vessels brought oak logs, too, and sold them to wholesale dealers or mills in San Francisco and Los Angeles. In future years it took many steamers to carry them all, he told me. He bought sulphur, too, in Japan, and mahogany and other hard woods, and eane sugar in the Philippines, and sold them also on the Coast. Never Come Home in Ballast So he got the return cargoes he needed and learned the secret of his success in ship- ping in the next ten years: “Never come home in ballast, or your voyage will bring you a loss. Always take a full cargo both ways, even if you have to buy it.”” It was a reincarnation of the old Yankee merchant- trader idea. For in the adventurous clipper days, having little to export from our shores, our ships had traded all over the globe, buying and selling as they went. In an old New England record I read of one young captain of nineteen, son of the owner of his ship, who came back from a two years’ voyage with nearly $1,000,000 he’d made. And now, in his careful, conservative way, this new Scotch-American pioneer was working on the same idea. But condi- tions had changed in fifty years. Out there upon our Western coast, he could feel a whole country behind him rapidly filling with cities and towns, mines and mills and factories—all to need foreign markets soon. And before him lay the Orient. Suppose it wakened to new life and began to want our goods? ‘What a chance for foreign trade,” thought this adventurous pioneer.

Editor's Note—This is the first of a series of ar- ticles about Captain Dollar. The second will ap- pear next week.

PHOTO. BY PECK The Narrows at Ketchikan, Alaska

a ae ee ee ee eed ———— re < a inal

Page 169

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 169 UNINTERRUPTED SLEEP Sound healthful sleep— protected by screenings of Bronze. No stabbing mosquitoes—no persistent, early-morning flies to annoy . . . Undis- turbed sleep for all the whole night through . . . Those menaces to sleep and health—the house-fly and mosquito—are barred out forever when you screen your house with screenings of Bronze >K. Chase Bronze never rusts, never needs painting; its protection is permanent. {—+— +4 -4 + 4+ + | +—4+—4 + 4 + ++ +--+ +--+ + i ; See eees + + 4 +—-+—+--+- + + - | + AA A3@ee ++ 4 1 | 4 } m | yom t rt H+ +~ eSeaeue t oe | i + aa ae sos 7 +4 ’ ++ 44 -+—4- 4 4+- —+—_+— ’ TI tt = 4 ; — ot —+-- =n 1. 5 —-— | | > ++ -+ atid ++ +—+—+ +44 | + + ; +> —+ . + + 4—4 ; T + +--+ + | ’ +4 44 444 — > ‘ 4+—+ --4-—_ +_4—-4—4- + 4 9 4 at 4 -4--4---4- 4 — +—-4 --+—+—-4 —-¢ —+- + + -+--4-+—4—+- +> 4 + a ee + 4-4 ~ + --- e a oe OOO ee a me tees Chase products are made from the world’s most useful metal . . . Copper is the world’s most useful metal, primarily because Copper, and its most important alloys, Brass and Bronze, are immune to rust—that malignant enemy of industry and home. All Chase products are of copper and its alloys. .. Alpha Brass Pipe, Copper Gutters and Downspouts, Bronze Screen Cloth are made by Chase, as you know. You may not all are rustiless. eel MK Chase Bronze Fly Screening is easily identified by the Chase mame and the distinctive Chase- mark. Look for these; they are your guarantee of permanent protection know that, in addition, Chase Brass and Copper are used in the manufacture of thousands of the everyday articles which surround you. Because Chase Brass is good brass . . . Chase Copper is good — your assurance of a product 7 copper... and will give you life-long protection against rust. that beautifies as well as protects. CHASE BRASS & COPPER CQO. —— I NCORPORATED WATERBURY . . CONNECTICUT CHASE The mark that identifies good brass and copber products

Page 170

170 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HE mark of confidence is the Weyer- f abe 4-Square Label on each package of 4-Square Lumber. This label specifies the exact species and the exact grade of the lum- ber in the package—both are guaranteed by Weyerhaeuser. 4-Square Lumber comes to the job in these original packages with the original labels. You know that you are getting what you order and pay for. There is no chance for “mistakes.” More than that. 4-Square Lumber is better than ordinary lumber. It is properly seasoned, properly manufactured by improved methods. It is cut to exact lengths and trimmed square at both ends—thus eliminating a lot of hand trim- ming on the job. Itis put up in packages — comes Buy from the ys | SQUARE DEALER — his lumber carries the mark of confidence It saves to the job clean and unmarred. money and makes for better construction. 4-Square Lumber is sold only by reliable dealers—men who have taken their stand on Guaranteed Quality and are determined to clean up some of the “sore spots” in the lumber business which have cost users of lumber millions of dollars. SQUARE LUM Species and Grade are Marked and Guaranteed identifies the 4-SQUARE DEALER You will find the 4-Square Dealer a good man to do business with—his service keyed up to the level of his new and better lumber. Look for his 4-Square sign. WEYERHAEUSER FOREST PRODUCTS ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA Weyerhaeuser Sales Co., Distributors, Spokane, Washington District Offices: Minneapolis, Kansas City, Chicago, Toledo, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, New York ER TRIMMED SQUARE... PACKAGED. READY TO USE «:s GUARANTEED 6S woop ‘ected all wood rigid in- Guletlag wall board and plaster bese. A notable comfort and economy building. Sold by ouller dealers Other achievements by W rTERHAEUSER for Industry and the Home CRATING LUMBER A dependable supply of ideal light-weight f haat crat- ing lumber yy Weyer- haeuser's experience and scientific service in crate design. WOOD PARTS Serving indus into finished products. later May 25, 1929 a Rg et a

Page 171

eee A a ee LOTR aan TIS a Mme to sleep and Al had tied the bedding down across him so, weak as he was, he couldn’t throw himself out of the bunk if he was to come to while Al was after a doctor. There warn’t no regular doctor in a little camp like Ten Sleep them days. ‘Folks either got well or they didn’t. Several of the boys rode out to look after Hank while Al Witherspoon got a fresh horse and set off for Sheridan, where a young doctor had hung out ashingle. Folks had been mighty healthy at Sheridan, seems like, and what shooting had been done was accurate to the p’int where an undertaker was needed, not a doctor, and Doc Edmonds hadn’t worked up much practice. Al offers him a thousand dollars to take the case and stay on it, if he takes till spring. Doc Edmonds almost sprained his back reaching for his hat and medicine kit. Four days after Al leaves, he and Doc Ed- monds came riding back, all wore to a frazzle. A man nurse was following along behind them and arrived two days later. It was spring before Hank Arnold was up and around. Al Witherspoon had spent almost his last dollar, but the ghost had quit riding him. He felt that his finding Hank Arnold had been a direct interven- tion of Providence to give him a chance to pay off an installment on that debt to old Dave Peel. Well, Al Witherspoon and Hank Arnold decided to ride and tie, and they’d been at it for upwards of forty year prior to the time young Jim Channing re- lates the tale to Alice Merril. Alice thinks that’s quite a story. “ Aren’t they a delightful old pair?” she asked. “I just love them.” “I’m addicted to them myself,” Chan says. “Near as I can make out, that debt to old Dave Peel has kept the pair of them about three-fourths bankrupt ever since. Every time they had a little stake laid by and it looked like they was on the highroad to prosperity, some broke-down old pros- pector or stove-up cow puncher come to their notice. It wasn’t in the nature of them two kindly old boys to pass on without lending a helping hand. They’d consider it paying off a little more on that debt to old Dave Peel, and it’s kept them broke. But anyways, they’ve had each other and have had a right carefree life. They started to ride and tie forty years ago.” “Ride and tie,” says Alice Merril. “What does that mean?”’ “It means to partner together,”’ he ex- plained. “Of course,” she says. “‘But what’s the significance of it? Where did the term origi- nate? Every expression has its roots in some actual occurrence or custom of the past. Usually it originates because it is peculiarly fitting.” “And the expression lives on after the custom it originally designated has become obsolete,’ Channing agreed; and the girl gives him an amused glance. “And how many year have you-all been in these hyar hills yourself, stranger?” she inquired. He grinned back over his shoulder. “‘ Not so many,” he says. “And whar did you hail from original, neighbor?” she persisted teasingly. He didn’t answer that direct, but hums, “Dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,” which piqued her a trifle. ““Where was Chan’s home?” she made casual inquiry of Al later in the day. “Come to think of it, Chan never did confide in Hank and me just whar his home was located,”’ Al says. ‘The details of his past that he’s related has been right meager, sis.” “I expect it was some scrape that he got into and he came out here to live it down,” she suggests sort of offhand. “Then he’s doing a good job of it,”’ Al says. “*Must have been something he was ter- ribly ashamed of,”’ she surmised, “or he’d have mentioned it.” THE SATURDAY RIDE AND TIE (Continued from Page 23) “Nothing of the sort,”’ Al denied, train- ing his mild old blue eyes on her. “Likely a little business upset at the worst, which all yearlin’s experience now and ag’in, and he come out here to start over. I’m down- right surprised at you, sister, for misreading character the way you do.” She laughed up at him with that nice way of hers. Then Mr. Archer rode up— the outfit at that moment being in a moun- tain meadow where there was room to ride abreast—and asked her to trot on ahead with him, which she did as pleasant as you please. Though it was evident from the first that Archer was interested in Alice Merril, it was also apparent that his opinion of him- self was such that he felt he was doing her a favor to accord that interest. It had struck Hank and Al that the father was en- gaged in fostering that interest between Archer and the girl to the best of his ability. He was a dignified party, Merril was, as if conscious of the fact that he had a position in the world to uphold. His face wore a weighty and impressive expression at all times and his simplest remarks was uttered as if he’s handing down a decision that may rock the world. When he remarks at break- fast that he’ll have another cup of coffee or a slab of bacon, it is with the air of decree- ing the rise or fall of nations. “T declare,” says Al, “if he ain't just about the a-struttingest party I ever laid an eye on.” “He sure gives off the impression that the weight of the world has been rocsting on his shoulders for many a moon ané that he’s bore the burden wise and well,” Hank agreed. “He strikes me as somewhat of a false front,” Al says. “I never crossed the trail of a real one yet that felt it necessary to strike an attitude of greatness.” “Nor me,” Hank said. “Usually, that sort of party is pretending to himself and others that he’s holding down the impor- tant berth in life that he’s always aspired to, but ain’t attained yet.” “C’rect,” Al agreed. “And I suspect that’s Merril’s case. But now he sees his way clear to attaining it. He’s got a girl that’s about the best they is. His idee is that she'll win him through to where he’s headed for—which is to engineer a combi- nation of money and position.” “And Archer has a plenty of both them commodities,’’ Hank stated. “Which I’ve got nothing agin such a union, p’vided the principals in the von- tract is satisfied,’ Al said. “But it won’t make no difference to Merril whether they're satisfied or not, long as he’s satisfied himself,”” Hank ana- lyzed. “ He’s out to put it through, whether or no. A man like him, rid by one devour- ing ambition thataway, is not going to let such a trifle as other folks’ preferences side- track him. And his kind has a ruthless streak to’rds them that they contro.” “ Allin all,” Al says, “he’s something of a he hen, Merril is, or he’d leave match- making for the womenfolks.”’ “‘ Archer seems a fair sort, only maybe a mite oversold on his own importance in the scherne o’ creation,’’ Hank says. ‘‘ Nothing outstanding agin him though.” “Not yet,” Al agreed, “except, as you says, he holds his nose a trifle too high when he looks at his fellow man.” The party had come early so as to take it easy and get hardened in gradual on the way to the hunting country, and they was six days on the trail before they made a permanent camp in Butte Creek meadows. Meanwhile, Hank and Al had observed that Alice Merril was putting in consider- able time riding near Jim Channing. If he’s in the lead, she pulls in just behind him when the outfit takes the trail of a morning. If he cuts off midway of the string or brings up the rear, Alice maneu- vers to ride at that p’int of the outfit too. On frequent occasions she dropped some EVENING POST casual question about him to Hank or Al. And all the time, no matter what the topic of conversation between her and Channing, Alice kept inserting leading queries de- signed to draw out what Channing meant to do with his future. “How did you happen to take up horse wrangling as an occupation?” she asked one day. “T didn’t. It took me up, you might | say,’’ Channing returned. So Alice fell back again on old Al Wither- | spoon. “Well, sister, it come about like this,” he says. “Hank and me has just delivered a | dude party back to the railroad and is pre- | paring to take the outfit up into the hills | for the summer. A train is side-tracked thar and Chan is pacing back and forth and acting real gloomy and disconsolate. The station agent says the reason for the long | © stop is because of a wreck ahead. ““*& wreck ahead and a wreck behind,’ | Chan says. “We inquired what the wreck behind | was and he laughed kind of mirthless and says it’s his own wreck. ‘My dad—the best in the world, too—expected me to be- come a wizard at big business and high finance,’ he says. ‘All I’ve done is to prove I wasn’t cut out for it. I’ve jumped the reservation. The governor will be pretty much cut up about it, I’m afraid.’ “*What’re you aiming to do out in these parts, son?’ Hank inquires. Chan says he’ll likely take a whirl at larning the | ranching game. It ain’t no easy task to get a ranch job, what with plenty of experi- enced ranch hands looking for work. Hank and me are a great pair to size things up. | It’s clear as spring water to us that this boy has tried big business with his dad’s money and took a fall. The fact that he’d lost the old man’s money, and maybe his confidence, was fretting him more than his own part in 171 he : ieee eri you original container— used on the finest products THE FINEST it. We-all decided to take him back into the hills with us for the summer, so’s he'd | AWN D Hi IG ia EST | get his mental feet under him again, so to speak, and also would larn his way round | out here. He took us up. Come time for this hunt, we hired him for wrangler.” “H’m!” Alice Merril sniffed. “To let | himself go to pieces at his age, because of a business reverse!” “But, honey, he ain’t gone to pieces,” Al insisted. “Not Chan. He’s a-gathering himself for a fresh start. You don’t live for two months with a man out in the hills without larning something of his make-up.” | Alice drifted back to Chan. “So you're just another installment on the debt to old Dave Peel,” she says. “That's the way I sized it up,” Chan agreed. “And you'd take their charity!” she flared. “Young and able-bodied as you are.” “I’m earning my keep now,” he p’inted out. “But what are you going to do with your life?”’ she insisted. ‘‘ Later—as a life occu- pation, I mean?” He shrugged carelessly. ‘‘ Ranch, in all probability,”’ he says. Meanwhile, Archer is persistent in his attentions to Alice. But though he acted as if he was doing her a favor by bestowing his interest, the girl seemed unaware of the honor thus conferred on her. Not that she wasn’t friendly and pleasant to him, for she was. It was merely that she seemed to accept the interest and attentions of all menfolks as her natural due, his among the rest, and not as in the nature of a favor. Archer seemed a nice enough sort of chap, despite his toplofty notions of his own importance, but likely he observed Alice Merril’s interest in Channing and it injured his self-esteem. Anyway, on about the fifth day out, he commenced to give orders to the horse wrangler. He wasn’t nasty about it, but just conveyed his wishes in an offhand manner as he would to any servant. (Centinued on Page 174) PRICED OF ALL CLOSURES The Cap with the Little Lever Used by manufacturers who think so much of their product that they spare no expense in retaining the quality of that product, just as originally seabed, until the last drop has been used. ,onvenience and service to their customers is an important factor to the makers of fine prod- ucts, and Kork-N-Seal is the only cap made that delivers the maxi- mum convenience and service in sealing and re-sealing. The cost of Kork-N-Seal pro- hibits its use on cheap or inferior products, so look for the cap with the little lever, then buy with confidence in the quality of that product. WILLIAMS SEALING CORPORATION Decatur, Illinois New York Boston Chicago San Francisco London Paris Williams KORK-N-SEAL © 1929, W. 8. Corp Reg U.S. Pat. O8

Page 172

THE SATURDAY These are only a few of the 12,000 Nyal Service Drug Stores in the United States and Canada. You will find one of them conveniently located in your community NYAL SERVICE EVENING POST to the support of the thousands of Communities in which they are located—and to the Welfare of D } t @ XY w|i @ the millions of People they Serve Your Nyal Service Drug Store belongs to your com- munity, is a part of your community. At this store you will find fresh, clean merchan- dise at lowest prices, the personal interest of pro- prietor and clerks, and the highest professional standards. The Nyal Druggist guarantees every household preparation, toilette or other item that bears the name “‘Nyal’’. The Nyal Druggist owns his own store and belongs to his community in spirit, service and responsibility. But Nyal Service Druggists rest their chief claim to your patronage on their superior service. That service begins with an inflexible standard of quality in the goods they sell. THEY BRING TO YOUR LOCALITY This standard applies to the Nyal line of household preparations, cosmetics and specialties prepared in pharmaceutical laboratories of seventy-three years’ standing. The Nyal plan gives you established guaranteed goods at prices uniformly low. Nyal Druggists carry all other well-established nationally advertised merchandise. Your Nyal Druggist gives you the best values obtainable to hold your patronage. Look for the Nyal Store identified by the Nyal em- blem on the window. Support it—patronize it. In so doing, you will secure better values and supe- rior service. May 25, 1929

Page 173

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST . this sign is a symbol of service and the emblem of 12,000 prescrip tion druggists in the United States and Caneda to the principle that the Independent Druggist has a duty to perform — he must maintain the high- est professional standards and give superior service Pledged 12,000 of the best iridependent drug stores in the United States and Canada have pledged themselves to Nyal standards of service. You are entitled to know who these druggists are and what they stand for. You can distinguish them by their display of the Nyal Service Drug Store emblem, and by the Nyal products that they carry and guarantee. Every Nyal Service Drug Store is a prescription drug store. The Nyal franchise is never granted a store that is not in charge of a registered pharma- cist. In fact, many Nyal Stores have several regis- Headquarters: United States—Nyal Company, Detroit, Michigan Great Britain—Nyal Company, Ltd., Slough, Bucks., England tered pharmacists who are always at your service. These druggists—12,000 strong—have earned in- dividuality, independence, and public respect. They are protecting that reputation by giving unusual merchandise and service—better than the buying public can obtain elsewhere. Dedicated to superior service, your Nyal Druggist sells you what you ask for. Neither he nor his clerks will urge you to buy unduly large quantities. Fair dealing and superior service—these are the two hall- marks of the Nyal Service Drug Store. Canada—Nyal Company, Ltd., Windsor, Ontario Australasia—Nyal Company, Sydney, Australia QUALITY ..... FAIR PRICE ..... FAIR DEALING

Page 174

Pavement-pounded nerves are strangers to him HAT though he does carry eighty pounds on his back as he follows the blazed trail for mile after mile? The woodland turf is springy under his feet—every step is cushioned. He has never known the greater strain of day after day pounding on hard pavements—the repeated shocks that jar every fibre—the transmitted blows of walking that lead the city dweller to nerve exhaustion. And so he sleeps o' nights—and wakes refreshed. I R for this sign He does not jump at sudden sounds. He is not thrown nm the hoe reparr- window. It off his mental balance by petty inconveniences. you thar he in Dent Raanedi Man was never meant to walk continually on hard naterials made surfaces. The structure of his foot proves it. Nature wayee on designed it for contact with soft sand and springy turf Spring-Step Heels ' —which cannot injure the delicate nerve system. Quit pounding your energy away—put springy cushions between your heels and the sidewalks—a pair of “U.S.” Spring-Step Rubber Heels. Step into a repair shop where you see the “U. S$.” Spring-Step sign. Have a pair put on. Wear them— you will feel better, have more energy and get greater enjoyment out of life. SPRING-STEP Rubber Heels Made by the Manufacturers of Keds Trade Mark United States Rubber Company THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 171) They’d been on the trail maybe an hour on the fifth day when Archer drew up to where Alice was riding behind Channing midway of the outfit and stated that he’d left his pipe and a pound can of tobacco be- hind and would Chan mind riding back to get them for him. Archer’s manner was _ nice and pleasant, same as if he was speak- | ing to some trusted servant. You might | even call his manner indulgent, not to say patronizing. Alice looked up rather surprised, but Channing, as if he was glad to do a favor for Archer, says without even hesitating, “Sure, I will,”” and turned his horse on the back track. After a couple of hours he cantered back to the outfit, packing the missing plunder. Little things like that kept cropping up and Chan performed every chore that Archer asked him to, and it didn’t even seem to ruffie him. Merril, too, took notice that Alice was spending consideratle time with Channing. Both Al and Hank ob- served that Merril turned a hard eye on the pair of them real frequent. But he wasn’t | one to go off half cocked. He waited until | an opportunity to relieve his mind came up natural, which it did on the day they pulled into Butte Creek Meadows and set up camp. Chan had throwed the horses up the | meadow while the others was putting up the tents. Then he came back and was | cutting down a dead lodgepole for firewood | fifty yards from the camp. Mr. Merril | strolled over and viewed his work approv- ingly. Archer had segregated Alice, and the pair of them was setting on a down log, | laughing and chatting. Alice’s rollicking | laugh floated across to Chan and Merril. The father turned his head and came as near beaming as was compatible with his face. “Happy couple,” he says weightily to Channing. “And why not? Handsome and well matched in every particular. Both | of good family and position. Yes, an ideal match, I would say. You have no idea, Channing, how much anxiety falls to the lot of the father of a charming young , woman. So many make mistakes in their choice of a life companion. But I am glad to say that Alice did not. At last I can feel a vast relief to know that she has chosen a man with whom I can trust her future hap- piness and welfare.” He went on to speak glowingly of the ad- vantages of the match—the union of two families long known and respected in their state. In his pompous manner he con- veyed the impression that the union be- tween the Merril and Archer clans was similar to a treaty between two powerful nations. “This is by way of being a betrothal trip,”’ he confided. It was quite natural, he went on to say, that they should wish to get away from their many friends for a while. The de- mands of society were great. And no mat- ter how well meant, the attentions of friends were more or less of an intrusion when a young couple was betrothed and wished to discuss their future plans. But Alice was so gracious and good-hearted that she sim- ply could not refuse her time to any and all who demanded it, even though she was anx- ious to be alone with Archer. So they had decided that a trip into the wilderness was the logical solution. “You can see for yourself how it is,” Merril says. “Even in your case or that of Seely, the cook, whenever either of you has anything to say to Alice, her natural gra- ciousness makes her conceal the fact that she’d rather be with him. That’s Alice,”’ he says fondly. “‘And that’s that,” says Channing to himself, gazing after him. ‘Father has handed down the ultimatum. He don’t in- tend for any horse wrangler to impose him- self on Alice’s time, which, to further his own plans, he wants her to put in with Archer. And if I don’t act according to instructions, father’s not going to enjoy the trip or let anyone else enjoy it. It’s to the interest of Al and Hank to see that the hunters enjoy the hunt. Therefore, it’s up to me to behave myself.” He patterned his actions on what he con- sidered his duty toward Al and Hank. He continued to be pleasant as all outdoors to Alice whenever chance threw them to- gether, but instead of seeking her society as he had formerly, he now took to avoiding her whenever it was possible without mak- ing it pointed. That wasn’t difficult for a few days, because Channing stayed near camp and looked after the horses and rustled wood for the cook while the others were out on the hunt. Hank guided Merril while Alice and Archer hunted together with Al. There was plenty of game in the hills, and by the end of the first week in the Butte Creek camp, Merril and Alice each had a mule-deer buck and a six-point bull elk and Archer had his elk, but no buck. As they set round the camp fire that eve- ning, Alice, as usual, tried to draw Hank and Al into spinning some yarn or other. “How did the term ‘ride and tie’ origi- nate?” she inquired of Hank. “Well, it was prev’lent all through the West, forty-fifty years ago, same as it is to a lesser extent now, but I didn’t exactly know whar it come from myself. Thar was an old mountain man who'd lived among the Injuns more years than he could remember. He told me it came from back in the days of the keel-boat commerce between Kentucky and New Orleans. Many of the boats was homemade and intended only to float a cargo down the Ohio and the Mississippi to New Orleans and then to be abandoned, while the crews got back the best way they could. There was two keel-boaters that was mighty nigh inseparable. At the end of the down trip they’d draw their wages and go on a bust until they was broke. Be- fore starting the spree, however, they'd purchase one horse and saddle. When funds ran out they’d start back overland through the wilderness for the upper Ohio. One would ride for a spell, dismount and tie the horse and hold on afoot. The other would come to whar the horse was tied. He'd ride until he overtook his pardner. Then they’d both walk for a spell to give the horse a rest, then repeat. Arriving on the upper Ohio, they’d sell the horse, drink up the price of it and sign on another flatboat for New Orleans. ‘Ride and tie,’ they called it. Others took it up, and finally the term comes to mean a partnership between two or more men who had agreed to share and share alike, come good luck or bad. That’s how that old party told me it was, Miss Alice, and he was old enough to know.” “That's a perfect duck of an expression— ride and tie,” she approved. “Don’t you think so, Chan?” But Chan had slipped off to his bedroll. He warn’t asleep, as indicated by the oc- casional glow of his cigarette. It had been coming over Alice that Channing hadn’t been bestowing any great amount of his society on her of late. There warn’t a thing she could put her finger on to indicate any change in their relations. Channing was friendly and amiable as all outdoors to Alice whenever he was round, but he was round mighty infrequent, it seemed to her. Friendly as she’d been to him, it piqued her a mite to discover that he wasn’t making a p’int of seeking her society at every pos- sible opportunity. She hardly knew how to account for that, because she warn’t ac- customed to be overlooked by any man, old or young. But being real well ac- quainted with her dad, she suspected that he was at the bottom of it. She announced that she wasn’t going to hunt next day but intended to stay in camp and rest. Archer was scarcely a breath behind her in declaring that he be- lieved he’d rest a day in camp himself. Mr. Merril speaks up real prompt and announced that he would make it unani- mous. So everybody rested but Chan. He snatched a bite of breakfast and run the horses up to the upper meadow, explaining to Al and Hank that he’d herd them on good feed during the day, and if they wanted any saddle horses brought down, to fire two shots a minute apart. ——— _—_———-— LL ST ee

Page 175

—— — SSS ee el “H’m,” says Alice, her not knowing that Al had observed her listening in on Chan’s announcement. It warn’t but round ten o’clock when Alice slammed loose at a mark with her rifle. After the lapse of a minute she shot again. “‘H’m,” says Al in his turn. “Yeah, that’s what I say,” Hank agreed. In about a quarter of an hour the horses came streaming from the timber at the far end of the meadow and trots down the open. Chan left them a hundred yards outside camp and came riding on in. “Oh, here’s Chan with the horses!” Alice exclaimed as innocent as you please. ““Now since you’re here, Chan, I believe I'll have you take me out for a ride.” Mr. Merril cleared his throat impor- tantly. “But you were going to rest, my dear,” he said. “‘I’m rested now,” Alice announced. “I'd prefer that you did not go,” he says flatly; so flatly, in fact, that it sounded like an order. Alice knew he was going to make an issue of it, and that if it came to an issue she’d either do as he said or he’d make things unpleasant all round for the balance of the trip. So she submits gracefully. “We will not need a horse, after all, Channing,” Merril said. “No.” Channing nodded pleasantly. The laugh had all died out of Alice’s eyes, though her lips still smiled. “Did you hit the mark you was shooting at, girl?”’ Al Witherspoon inquired. She looked up, startled, wondering if they had guessed. For just a second she saw something in Channing’s eyes that caused a tide of pink to sweep up across her cheeks. Chan turned away, but not until she’d caught that flash; and she had seen that look in men’s eyes before. Some- how, everything seemed all right with the world and the smile crept back into her eyes. Channing stepped down off his pony and rolled a cigarette. ““While you're here, Channing, I wish you'd take the bedding out of my sleeping bag and spread it out on the bushes to air,” Archer said. “Glad to,” Channing says instantly. There was a queer look flashed into his eyes that nobody noticed but Al and Hank They wandered down to’ the creek bank and presently Al chuckled. “I’ve been resenting all them burden- some little chores they’ve been handing out to the boy,” he says, “‘and was on the point of informing them that ne’s here to wrangle horses, not to act as Archer’s flunky. But I won’t need to do it.” “No. He was laughing all over inside, but it didn’t break to the surface except in his eyes,”’ Hank said. “If he derives that much amusement from it, instead of grief, then thar ain’t no call for us to horn Ng They sauntered back and sat down near the others. “Very willing young man,” Merril says heavily, waving a hand toward where Chan is day-herding Archer’s blankets. “He always does what is required of him very cheerfully.” From his tone and manner, he might have been announcing that the heads of the Army and the Navy had been won to his point of view at last and would coéperate against the enemy at sunup. “Yes. With a little training he’d make a good man for someone,”’ Archer agreed. Alice looked at him, and her eyes were snapping, but before she could say any- thing, Channing was within earshot, mov- ing toward them with his easy stride. “Channing, would you like to come with me?” Archer inquired. “Sure,” Chan agreed instantly. ‘“‘Where do you want to go?” “T don’t mean now. I mean to come with me permanently when the hunt is over—work for me, y’know. I’ll make a place for you,”’ Archer offered. “Oh, that,” Channing said. “I hadn't given much thought to leaving these THE SATURDAY parts. In what capacity were you thinking of using me?”’ “Er, well, I confess I hadn't gone into detail in my own mind,” Archer hesitated. “You're a good hand with horses, though. With a little more experience, and working up to it, you might qualify to take charge of my stables. Not large, you know— | thirty-odd head.” | “T’ve had some little experience training hunters and polo ponies,” Channing stated reflectively. “‘But perhaps not enough. Awfully good of you. It’s an offer that will take some thinking over.” The face he turned upon Archer was smiling and pleasant—suspiciously pleas- ant it seemed to Al and Hank. To Alice it appeared that Channing was genuinely pleased, but she felt that the expression was assumed to conceal the deadly hurt dealt to his pride. During the conversation she turned red and white by turns— white when she suffered with him in spirit; red when she thought that possibly he was actually pleased with the offer. His expression seemed too genuine to be assumed. There he stood, his flannel shirt open at the neck, handsome as the answer to a maiden’s prayer, proportioned as if designed to lead foriorn hopes on the football field or on the field of battle, and with a grin on his face, beaming upon the man who was offering him a job as a stable swipe. And suddenly she was angry at Channing for not resent- ing the offer, furious at Archer for having made it, and raging at herself for some un- known reason. She felt cold and faint deep down inside. When she turned to old Al Witherspoon and Hank Arnold, her eyes were half angry and half miserable. But that pair of old stagers sat there as placid and expressionless as a brace of stumps. She was bewildered and sick, without knowing why, and for the next three-four days her bubbling good spirits was con- spicuous for their absence. She kept turn- ing over and over in her mind that one brief look she had surprised in Channing's eyes. The next second she'd be boiling mad because Chan continued to act as affable as a half-growed pup while performing menial chores for Archer and her father. Archer killed his buck and a nice brown bear. The hunt had drawed close to the end. Three days now and they'd be break- ing camp. Al and Hank had decided to go into winter trapping quarters on Butte Creek, and Channing was to stay there to look after such of the outfit as they was leaving behind until their return. Alice | began to think how short the time was and that Chan wouldn’t be with them on the outward journey. Her scorn melted some- | what and she sauntered over to where he was jerking some elk meat for her father to | take home. She intended to be extra | friendly. But when Chan kept tinkering with the smudge fire, smiling and casual, something happened to her. “Oh, don’t be a worm!” she flared sud- denly, surprising herself a sight more than | it surprised Channing. He straightened up and surveyed her with that amiable grin. “Why not?” he inquired. “‘Worms have their uses.” “‘So do stable boys!”’ she stormed. “ But who aspires to be one?” “Well, ambitions vary,’’ Chan says. “But in your own mind, you never for one second believed that I was going to close with Archer’s generous offer, did you now?” “A man who has had your advantages, as your very manner proves, and just be- cause of some silly financial reverse,’ she scoffed, “you haven't sufficient spirit left to resent an offer like that.” “And because you have a parent who's determined to engineer a consolidation of position and wealth,” Chan returned, smiling down at her, ‘you haven’t sufficient spirit to resent the implication that you’re going to wed a stuffed owl who would make an offer like that.” She stood there breathing hard, as if she’d just finished a race, and her cheeks turned from pink to white and back again Continued on Page 178) EVENING POST 53,000,000 pairs prove it = Uskide soles wear longest SK the miners about Uskide Soles. Ask the men in the steel mills. Ask the cloud dodgers who raise and rivet the steel They will tell you that Uskide is the super-sole for hard workers and hard walkers. The sole that gives two—and frequently three—times the service of ordi- nary soles. The sole that is waterproof and comfortable —the sole that grips where grip means life. From them the word has spread to men in every occupation: Uskide, good appearing and long wearing, is not only the money-saving sole for work shoes but the ideal sole for general use—a scientific advance in shoe bottoming material So today good repairmen and many manufacturers are putting Uskide or Ustan (the most durable tan sole made) on practically all types of shoes—heavy for the hard worker and hard walker—a lighter weight for those whose occupations are lighter You will recognize Uskide by the name on the sole You will never forget it after proving for yourself that one Uskide Sole will outwear two to three or dinary soles Uskide and Ustan soles are produced by the manu facturer of “Keds”—everywhere accepted as the world’s finest canvas rubber soled footwear USKIDE so vw 8 far OFF Soles - Taps - Toplifts Trade Mark United States Rubber Company q { Look for this cign on the shoe repair- man's windou It assures you that he uses the best bottom- ing matcridis made Ushide Soles Spring-Step Heels. 175

Page 176

Miss BAR BARA NEW BERRY Painted from life by R. John iolmgren. Miss Newberry, who was selected by Mr. Ziegfeld for her perfect legs, has already achieved distinc- tionas the youngest featured ingénue on Broadway May 25, 1929 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Z.\EGFELD selects Florenz Zieg feld’s booklet, ‘‘How I Selected America’s Most Beautiful Legs,”’ will be sent you for the asking. Address, F. Ziegfeld, Zieg feld Theatre, Fifty-fourth Street and Sixth Avenue, New York City.

Page 177

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 177 MeCVICAS Most Beautiful ZL CY asa pattern for stockime gd woven a marvelous new war Uy The Phoenix Girl—possessor of the most beautiful legs in America! This is the title conferred by Florenz Zieg- feld, internationally-famous producer, on the ingénue . Nearly three hundred Ziegfeld girls in five Broadway shows—the world’s favorite, Barbara Newberry . . greatest beauty aggregation —submitted their leg meas- urements in contest for the coveted honor. After view- ing all the lovely entrants and averaging their propor- tions, Mr. Ziegfeld declared Miss Newberry’s legs not only perfect but also most typical of the majority of attractive women ... The noted sculptor, Mahonri Young, has created a bronze cast of Miss Newberry’s legs to be kept as a permanent record. Fashioned after the measurements of America’s most beautiful legs, Phoenix Hosiery is now knit with the aid of the Accurator, a device almost magical in the precision with which it controls the shaping of the stocking. By the Accurator method of weaving —which Phoenix alone uses — colors, too, attain new beauty heights . .. Women every- where will delight in the increased charm of these per- fect, full-fashioned Phoenix offerings. Indeed, in the soft shading, the subtle coloring and the flattering con- tour of the ideally-patterned Phoenix stockings there s «Hosen ACCURATOR PROCES §S PATENTED is increased smartness for every costume, accented beauty for every woman whose pride is graceful legs . . . The stores are now showing fascinating Spring and Summer shades. $1.50, $1.95, $2.95. F. ZirnGren.p NEW AMSTERDAM THEATRE NEW YORK January 21, 1929 Phoenix Hosiery Company, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Gentlemen: select for you the most beautiful legs in Americe typi fying the average American girl. This would have been simple enough had you not specified "average." _ are girle just under six feet tall who barely exceeds five feet. irls in my current productions. All have beautiful egs. Dimensions vary, but their proportions are perfect. I have taken the measurements of these girls, added them, divided by the number measured, and chart enclosed shows the result, Most of them have leg dimensions practically identical with the averaged result. I have finaliy chosen Miss Barbara roarras as ideal for your requirements. I dare say, without fear of successful contradiction, that her legs are perhaps the most beautiful in the world today. Before closing may I add that your new Accurato: device, controlling accurate age bd in | of Phoenix Hosiery, strikes me as a great contribution to women's dress, and I believe that your pattern made from the legs of Miss Barbara Newberry will fit perfectly the legs of all of America's lovely women. and actually painting the lily. I congratulate your company on this new achievement. Very truly yours, MARCH r 42, 1929 I was, of course, flattered to have you ask me to with beautiful legs and so on down to the petite miss There are nearly three hundred beautifully formed - You are truly glorifying the leg of the American girl : i .

Page 178

178 While you’re THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 175) with every other pulse beat. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his or | think of anything to say. at the movies The man who calls when nobody's home! What reception will he get? Will an ordinary lock say weakly, “Step | in and help yourself” or will a Segal | burgiar-proof lock shout "Crooks | Prohibited!’ That depends on you. | Segal locks do more than merely | lock your door—they also burglar-_ | proof it. They join door and jamb | in a grip that no thief has broken. | When you go out, or to bed, Segal locks put an impenetrable wall | between you and dishonesty. If you want 100% protection | on your present home, ask your | hardware dealer to demonstrate Segalock No. 666 special features to you. Or, if building, ask your | architect or builder to specify Segal lock sets for greater securit) and safety. Your home, apartment, | garage, office or factory deserves | Segalock protection. Write for a. copy of our booklet, ‘Confessions | of a Crook.”’ You'll enjoy it. SEGAL LOCK & HARDWARE CO., Inc. Makers of Segal Burglar-proef Locks 55 Ferris Street Dept. B 2 Brooklyn, N. Y. PRUE TO. THEIR TRUST | SEGAL Buragtar-Proof LOCKS | © 1929 | Al hazarded. “If you don’t go away from here this very second, you'll be sorry,” Channing said. “There are some things that flesh and blood can’t stand> Looking at you without touching you is one—and the whole camp has its collective eye on us.” He stooped over and fussed with the fire, then straightened up and looked down at her again. “Of course, you know that I’ve been loving you to death from the first second I set eyes on you. If you hadn’t stepped off that train, I’d have stepped on, and Al and Hank would have been out one fair average horse wrangler. But since I’m wrangling for them, I’m going to see the job through. I wouldn’t let those old boys down for a million. I can’t stir up a hornets’ nest in camp, so I’ve got to hold myself on the track for their sake. Sometime after this hunt is finished I'll be presenting myself at your front door. Meanwhile, sweet, I don’t dare look at you for fear of what I’ll do.” He climbed his pony and rode off up the meadow at a trail trot. For the next two days and nights Alice didn’t think of any- thing but that conversation. She went over every syllable of it a thousand times. One minute she’d feel all warm and elated with the whole world just because Chan- | ning lived in it. The next she’d be cold and frightened at the prospect of what that world might hold in store for the two of them. And through it all, one picture kept crowding on her—the picture of Chan presenting himself at her front door. She | knew her father, Alice did, and she couldn’t help visualizing the reception that Chan would get at the hands of her father. And | that picture took all the joy out of life. If only Channing had wealth and position, her father would welcome him. But Chan didn’t. Oh, she knew her dad, all right. And Chan went along about his business, as amiably casual as always, when all she wanted was to hear him assure her all over | and over again that he’d meant every word he’d said and a lot more of the same. It was tormenting her something fearful, | while he seemed to take it cool and easy. He just couldn’t feel the same as she did. And then there’d come again that picture of Chan presenting himself at her front door and of what her father would say to him. It came down to the last night. In the morning they'd be breaking camp and Chan would stay behind. Meanwhile, cld Al Witherspoon and | Hank Arnold had arrived at a pretty ac- curate surmise as to how matters stood. “Right tough break them two colts is getting, knowing that they’ll say good-by in the morning and never meet up again,” Al says. “Chan is taking it standing up,” Hank testified. “‘Saying nothing, so’s not to make it hard for her.” “Which likely makes it harder for her,”’ “Archer’s part always amused Chan. His self-respect was too solid for Archer’s small-bore ammunition even to ruffle his fur. It’s Merril that’s the stumblingblock. Chan knows the old wart would never listen to reason; and Chan won't ask the girl to jump the reservation and go on short rations with him.” Hank nodded and sighed reflectively. “Which if I was setting up as a matri- monial agency at my age, which I ain't, I’d sure advise them to high-tail it for other pastures while the going’s good,” he said. “This is one job we've fell flat on,” Al regretted. “In trying to help the boy out | of one hole we crowded him into a deeper one.”” He knocked the ashes out of his pipe and crawled into his camp bed. Round ten minutes later, he saw a match flare a hundred yards away at the edge of the timber, and he knowed that Channing was out there smoking and gazing out across the meadow. Al thought things over for a spell and then he got out of bed EVENING POST » and headed out to have a little chat with g. Someone else had seen that match flare too. Alice had been laying there awake in her tepee, thinking things over. But it al- ways ended up in that picture of what would happen when Chan presented him- self hopefully at her front door. Then she saw the match flare out there at the edge of the meadow. Al had drawed to within a few feet of Channing, walking silent without his boots, when another figure flitted past him at an angle. He could see Chan standing there, just a shadow at the edge of the trees. Then another shadow joined him and the two of them faded into one without a sound except that of the girl’s catchy breathing. It seemed like they understood each other without words. Al hadn’t suspected that it had gone as far as that. They hadn’t suspected it either until right then. After a space the girl’s voice came, low and husky: “T’ve thought it all out, Chan. Life to- gether may be rough in spots, just at first, but life apart wouldn’t be worth living.” “And I’ve known that all along,” he said. “Then take me with you now, Chan. It’s the only way I know. We can ride all night and all day tomorrow. That would take us to some ranch road or other, wouldn’t it?” : “And you’d do that for me?” he asked, as if in wonder. The silence revealed his method of thanking her. But after a while his voice sounded from the dark again. “It’s going to come out all right, sweet. But I can’t just run off with you that way. Think of the awful hole it would leave Al and Hank in. I'd seil my shirt for those old boys. Consider the ruckus they’d have on their hands if I left them flat that way. I could never look myself in the face again if I didn’t shoot square with them. Besides, I’m coming after you, sweet, before many days.” “*But you don’t know what coming after me means,” the girl insisted, a low, desper- ate urgency in her tones. “‘Oh, Chan, you don’t know my father.” “TI know him better than you think,” Channing said, the least bit of grimness edging into his voice, ‘‘so I’ve not the least doubt that I can persuade him into our way of thinking.” “Never!” she predicted. “Even if we started together from there, it would be after an ugly scene that would always rankte. So why not start from here, when all is peaceful and quiet? It’s the only way, Chan. Al and Hank are such kindly, fine old souls that they wouldn’t mind a bit if they knew what it meant to us.” Al had been trying to edge away, not wanting to eavesdrop and being even less desirous of breaking up that meeting. Finally he made it and got Hank out of bed. The pair of them appeared suddenly and silently beside that single shadow that was Chan and Alice. “Here, son; Hank and me know how it is with you two,” Al announced. “The girl is right. It’s the only way. By riding until four hours after sunup you can strike Ty- son’s ranch on the head of Saddle Creek. Tyson will take you to town in his flivver. We'll saddle a couple of nags and you be on your way.” “You old darlings! I knew it,” the girl murmured. “* And it'll be a big relief to us, not a bun- dle of grief like you thought it would,” Hank said to Chan. “‘ This matter has been weighing on our minds aplenty. I can vouch for that. This clears it up.” “If you and Al feel that way about it,” Channing said, still holding Alice, “we'll be off. It will be moonlight in an hour and I know the trail.” Al thrust a sizable roll of bills into Chan- ning’s hand. —~ May 25,1929 “Just to tide you over for a few weeks, son, until you get squar’d around. Since me and Hank has turned Cupid for the first time in our lives, we won’t make no half- way job of it. If you two colts strike them rough spots you was speaking of, send word to old Hank and Al. We'll find means to tide you over somehow. Betwixt the four of us, we'll ride and tie.” “‘ And that works both ways,” Channing said, sort of slow and thoughtful. “Will you stand by that?” “Try us out and see!” Hank challenged. “Me and Al don’t lay a job down un- finished, once we pick it up. We've flung the pair of you in at one end, so to speak, and we’ll ride and tie till you come out at the other.” Channing held out his hand. “Sealed and sworn to by all hands,” he said. He turned and gathered thet girl close to him and kissed her. “Smooth water or rough, we’re on our way,” he says, and there’s a happy lilt in his voice when he says it. Alice gave each of the old mountain men in turn a fierce, ecstatic little hug. ‘Chan and me. we’re off to ride and tie,” she said, as if wondering if it could be true after all. Al and Hank filled their pipes and stood peering after Channing and Alice Merril as they rode off down the trail. “‘Thar’Il be considerable language spilled, come morning,” Al chuckled presently. “It’s music to the gambler’s ear to hear the suckers roar,” Hank said. “I never did feel any overpow’ring affection for Merril or Archer nohow. A jolt won’t hurt ’em. I don’t recall when I’ve felt so peaceful and contented.” Well, you know them two old longhorns, Al and Hank, as you remarked some time back. You know Channing, too—or of him. Yes, it’s the same Jim Channing that owns the X L, which is likely the biggest and best-run outfit in the state. Al and Hank got their wires crossed just a trifle that time in jumping to the conclusion that young Jim Channing had stubbed his toe financial. His dad’s the Channing who owns most of the railroads and got a mortgage on the rest; and Chan had enough in his own right to buy Archer out a dozen times over and not miss it. So he wasn’t fretting about money matters, like Al and Hank surmised. He’d always had a vast affection for his dad, and he imagined that the old man expected him to follow in his footsteps. What worried him was the thought that his dad would take it pretty hard when Chan got fed up on directors’ meetings, and all such, and jumped the track to branch out for himself in some line that was better suited to his taste. He was afraid his hopping off the reservation that- away would: cut the old man to the quick. Al and Hank had misread what was work- ing on his mind. But it turned out that the elder Channing actually didn’t care a hoot what kind of a job his son elected to take on, as long as he did it well; so that part of it was all right too. All of which is largely incidental. But to get back to old Al Witherspoon and Hank Arnold; they arrived back in town and saw the irate Merril and the out- raged Archer safe aboard a train, then headed up the stréet feeling right well satis- fied with themselves. The president of the Hissop bank called them in and handed them a document. It was a deed from James Channing and Alice Merril Channing, his wife, conveying the Wilkins place to two old longhorns by the name of Al Wither- spoon and Hank Arnold. They perused it at some length, thinking there’s a mistake somewhere. “The radiant young couple that left this document also left a verbal message for me to give you along with it,” says the banker. “It don’t make sense to me, but perhaps it will to you. They said to tell you this was just a little dividend on the debt to old Dave Peel and that there warn’t any way you could back out of it, because it had been sealed and swore to that the four of you would ride and tie.”

Page 179

“Hello, Dorothy... You’re looking well! Television is coming. And every step in its development is news. Every improvement in radio is news. Airplanes, their designs and performances, are news. The latest Einstein theory was one of the big news stories of the year. The 200-inch astronomical telescope is news. Today science supplies a wealth of fascinat- ing news items. And from the Science Serv- ice at Washington the Scrirrs-Howarp Newspapers receive, over private wires, the latest and most authentic information. For the Science Service was founded and NEW YORK . . Telegram CLEVELAND .. . Press BALTIMORE . . . Post PITTSBURGH .. . Press NATIONAL ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT, Stuart S. Schuyler, pinecror, 230 PARK AVE., NEW YORK SAN FRANCISCO . WASHINGTON . . CINCINNATI COVINGTON Kentucky Post — Kentucky Edition of Cincinnati Post Pemie fF INEWSPAPERS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST endowed by E. W. Scripps. And it has be- come one of the most important factors in the newspaper world. Its large staff, in addi- tion to being newspaper people, are also trained scientists. It has become a nationally known laboratory where the achievements of science are translated into the quick, accu- rate stories you read in your daily paper. The first full account of the new “lung” for submarine rescues came from Science Serv- ice. It gave full details six months in ad- vance of any other news source, of the high- est electric voltage ever attained. Itis watching INDIANAPOLIS . . Times DENVER . Rocky Mt. News TOLEDO ... COLUMBUS AKRON .. BIRMINGHAM . News News . Post News-Bee HOUSTON .. . Citizen AND CHICAGO - SAN FRANCISCO Times-Press Post MEMPHIS . Press-Scimitar Press ALBUQUERQUE OWARD MEMBERS OF THE AUDIT MEMBERS DETROIT 33 the famous “death-whisper” machine being studied by a Johns Hopkins professor, and reporting it at first hand. It is covering tele- vision, the exploration of the atom, and the measurement of light as carefully as any mur- der trial was ever covered... and is making them far more interesting. Today, science is creating thrilling front-page news. The Scriers-Howarp Newspapers are tapping its sources, printing it with speed and accuracy ... and transforming the priceless contribution of E. W. Scripps into an educa- tive force of national scope and magnitude. KNOXVILLE Nes EL. PASO SAN DIEGO TERRE HAUTE New Mexico State Tribune YOUNGSTOWN . Telegram FORT WORTH . OKLAHOMA CITY . EVANSVILLE Press Vews . Press BUREAU THE U OF CIRCULATIONS NITED PRESS ATLANTA OF LOS ANGELFS PHILADFLPHIA - DALLAS

Page 180

_ser-s Dept PFLUEGER SUPREME Level Winding Reel — Anti- Back -Lash — Quad- tuple Multiplying —Satin Finish Nickalum; $25.00 PFLUEGER OCEANIC free epool— Surf casting Satin Nickel Silver or Pol ished Nickel. Seven sizes, 100 to 400 yards Prices $6.56 to $16 cach PFLUEGER ATLAPAC Hard Rubber and Nickel Silver. For salt water fixhing No. 1660, Size 6-0, $75.00 PFLUEGER MEDALIST Reel Single Action—Satin Nickalum—-Gun Metal Finish—for Trout and Salmon. For Right or Left Hand Angler—3 Sizes; $5.00 to $12.50 Pflueger Muskil! Beit (Spotlite Finish) We Invite Your Inquiry for a Free copy of the Pflueger Pocket Catalog No. 148 which will tell you not only more about *flueger Tackle but many inter- sting facts about leading vari- F e eties of fish—their location— food walue — their habits — tackle recommended tor catching, etc. Let us send you a copy The Enterprise Mfg. Co., Dept. SEP-5 The Pfluegers, Akron, Ohio Gentlemen: Please send me the Pflueger Pocket Cata- log as advertised in The Saturday Evening Post. Name Address about fifty miles away. I was glad to hear *hat he had done this, because disquieting rumors were beginning to reach me. Asa matter of fact, most of them had reached me during my trip to and from the capital. Virtually all the political talk I had heard on the train related to this man. He was | already being referred to as “Governor Tom,” and there was an unmistakable note of affection in the sobriquet. Also, I detected enthusiasm and admiration, as though the speakers were saying: “Well, boys, one of our own kind is going to win this time and make monkeys of the slick politicians.” Anyone who can put himself before the people in that guise is the shrewdest of all politicians, whether he has had previous experience or not. This man | had held afew minor offices in his own | county, but his principal income was from his farms. You may wonder why Mike and I knew so little about him; the principal reason was that he had never made a speech in any of the cities of the state. It was part of his | program not to go near them. Naturally | we assumed that he was some sort of crank or freak, especially in view of the fact that he had already run twice without cutting much of a figure. However, I now learned for the first time a few significant facts about the progress he was making. The travelingsalesman for asoap-manufacturing company told me of a little town where Governor Tom had gepoken in his first cam- paign to an audience of eighteen men as- sembled in front of the post office. In the | game town he had been heard two years : later by about one hundred and fifty. In | this campaign the same town had provided | an audience of twelve hundred, which was _ somewhat more than the total population | and meant that at leact half of those people had come in from the farms probably over a radius of twenty miles. One newspaper had just sent a correspondent to report his speeches. Here was a thing to ponder. When Mike returned I was more eager to tell him what I had heard about Gov- ernor Tom than about my conference with the actual governor. He grunted morosely and then said: “He’s a nut. Regular dynamiter. I heard him speak.” “Does he get votes?’’ I asked. “Yes,” Callaghan admitted. “He’s got the genuine amen gargle.”” That was Mike’s standard term for a speaker whose voice indicates great emotion. There is no doubt that it makes a tremendous impres- sion, properly used, and yet it is the easiest of all platform tricks to learn. If you doubt me, just try it yourself. To register great anger is difficult; to be funny is extremely difficult, and if you fail, terrible. Fear and horror are also difficult to express in a speech, but almost anyone can put a sob in his voice. You don’t even have to reserve it for such words as “mother” or “my country” or “children.” You can say woodpile or saltcellar and put a sob in them, it isso easy. But it brings home the bacon when properly used. I tried to draw out more about Mike’s impressions of Governor Tom, but without success. Not until long afterward did I learn the details of what had happened, but the story belongs here. Mike reached the conclusion that Governor Tom could be elected, and therefore sought a conference with him. The rebuff he received was prob- ably the most terrific of his entire career. Governor Tom declined to shake hands, and told him bluntly: “I don’t care to know you; I don’t want anything to do with you; I’m against you and everything you represent. I welcome your personal enmity and political opposition. I am go- ing to be elected and that will be the end of your machine. That’s all I have to say to you except get out.” And Mike got out, carrying with him the unpleasant impres- sion that this man would probably be the next governor of the state. } THE SATURDAY - EVENING POST I GAVE THEM WHAT THEY WANTED (Continued from Page 38) Governor Tom had struck a new note in our politics, and thereafter we were des- tined to deal with what really was the para- mount issue, instead of something merely put forward by force of propaganda or per- sonalities. The real issue was the inevitable conflict between city and country; between our growing industry and commerce on one side and agriculture on the other. The major portion of all public revenues had al- ways come from the taxation of land, and that meant that the agricultural districts were now paying far more than the in- dustrial communities. Governor Tom’s program was to lay a heavier tax udon cor- porations. He was thus promising the farm- ers exactly what they wanted and in the way that they wanted it—not a smaller state budget but an equalization of the burden. As for the prohibition issue, he dismissed it with a paragraph, taking the position that the matter was not debatable. Anyone not allied with the liquor traffic or addicted to the habit of drinking, he assumed, would necessarily be a prohibitionist. I admired him very much, because he was the first living proof I had encountered that the fundamental theories upon which our form of government rests can be made to work in practice. By that I mean that he had first studied the tax situation and reached an honest conclusion as to what was true; next he had sought a remedy; and then he had gone before the people to tell them what they ought to do. Moreover, he had been patient in defeat and retained his faith. He had made his own constructive criticism of the state government into a platform and finally he had made that plat- form the paramount issue. That was how the giants of our country’s youth practiced politics. It has seemed to me that the word “politician” ought to mean a man of really awe-inspiring ability. He should be learned in the law far beyond the ordinary practicing attorney; he should be an able administrator, a searching critic of govern- ment; his knowledge of history should far excel that of most history teachers; and in addition to this vast and scholarly store of information, he should also be an orator and publicist. That would be my concep- tion of a politician. If he isn’t that I should say that he is merely a candidate— one who lets politics and politicians toss him about rather than one who creates issues and solves problems. We have a great many public men who simply ride the thoughts of others or any popular fancy, whim, prej- udice, enthusiasm. or hate. And these are the very men we mean when we speak of politicians. I wish that the word “ politi- cian” could mean something even greater than statesman, for as I see it, an able, fearless, honest administrator qualifies as a statesman and yet he might not know the A B C’s of guiding the future course of the state by implanting a new theory of government firmly in the public mind. Such men represent stability beyond the point of safety—and some very great men can be so classified. There is always need for the creative thinker who can persuade as well as govern; statecraft is not a fixed science, it is an art; government is either undergoing constant evolution or it is moribund. Mike’s interview with Governor Tom had stimulated him to a frenzy of energy. He worked literally day and night, never less than fourteen hours and sometimes eighteen. Nothing to compare with the state-wide organization he built had ever been known before, nor has it since. He took the model of our city machine and extended it to every country precinct, even in the most remote counties. One day he said to me: “ Why the devil doesn’t the governor attack Darling?” I reminded him of my efforts to prevent that attack. “Ancient history,” he grumbled. “They'd better get at each other and make the fur fly. That dynamiter is hogging the May 25,1929 show. Crack down with the blind-asyium dirt.” I drew up a brief statement of the facts and sent it to ten members of the legisla- ture, asking them to pledge me their sup- port for an investigation at the coming session. At the same time I gave the state- ment and my letters to the press. The publication created a tremendous impres- sion. Moreover, from day to day I was able to give out the answers received from my legislative friends and keep the subject very much alive. I had carefully selected men who would write the sort of letters calculated to help my own political for- tunes; all of them expressed confidence in my ability and my good faith in bringing this matter to public notice. The gover- nor's denial that he had any knowledge of the transaction sounded very weak. By shooting first we also took away much of the force of his attack upon Darling, which included, of course, an attack upon our machine. People smiled at that, seeing clearly that he was merely hitting back. However, in the light of subsequent de- velopments, it would have been much better politics if I had let him fire the first shot, because we accomplished nothing but the final destruction of both men. Instead of making their dog fight the paramount issue, they succeeded only in committing hara-kiri. The election became a landslide for Gov- ernor Tom. We have no better descriptive term in politics than “landslide.” You have to participate in such a campaign to know just how accurate it is. Picture my friend Mike at the center of a vast network of organization extending over many thou- sands of square miles. Precinct chairmen scurry hither and yon at the direction of county chairmen who report almost daily to the central organization. Posters, circu- lars and buttons go out in bales. Speakers are routed by experts, so that no part of the state is neglected. All this hurry and labor and planning gathers momentum from day to day until the very eve of elec- tion, when tired nerves can scarcely stand the strain. Then the state simply tips up on edge, figuratively speaking, and crash! the whole organization comes tumbling down, swept to confusion under a torrent of adverse votes. Unless a man is devoid of patriotism, I do not believe he can view a political landslide without feeling a thrill of pride and confidence in our form of gov- ernment. Here, far more than in the ordinary election, you know that the people havespoken and that the ballot is sovereign. By ten o'clock on the night of election the result was beyond ail doubt. Mike quit reading the reports, clapped on his derby hat, stuffed a new cigar into his mouth and said: ‘Well, that’s over.”” He was grin- ning. Then we went home. I was in no doubt about my course. I had learned enough by this time to subscribe to the ancient dogma of all practical politicians: “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.” Gov- ernor Tom was not destined to find me a thorn in his path. Quite the contrary. Three days after the election a new storm broke. I was working late in my office when, to my astonishment, Mike came in. It was the first time he had ever visited me. “Know what’s going on?” he asked cas- ually, while propping his feet on my desk. “No,” I answered. “Governor has sent fifty special offi- cers,” he said. ‘“They’re raiding every- thing. This is his answer to the blind-asylum thing.” I jumped to my feet. “What do you want me to do?” I exclaimed. “Nothing, tonight,” he said, still quite composed. ‘‘We may be able to do some- thing later. I’m not sure. We'll see. . . . But, kid, watch your step. Don’t get tangled up.” We sat there a long time in silence. I was deeply touched by this demonstration (Continued on Page 182) a ce we ee ee ——— EE - —

Page 181

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST : ..lay it over the old house below EEING is believing. Cut out the house at the top. Lay it over the old house be- low. See what these rich colors do for this old house—what they could do for your present home. Creo-Dipt Stained Shingles can make old houses as attractive as any in the neigh- borhood. Applied right over the old siding or stucco, they save enough in upkeep and fuel to pay their entire cost within the first 5 to 7 years. Creo-Dipts are selected straight grain red cedar shingles treated by the Creo-Dipt patented pressure process. [he preserving

roman, ane See ig SaaS NEA Wie BRS Si

| Creo-Dipt Company, Inc 3 (Oe i if L., 4 iz Ona i — anita , | ' Mail this coupon for | i a3 Canada: Creo-Dipt Company of Canada, Ltd., Royal Bank Bidg., Enclosed find 25c for portfolic Is]

oils and stains are forced in—under pressure! That is why Creo-Dipt colors are so beau- tifully soft and uniform fully, and require a minimum of upkeep. CREO-DIPT Stained Shingles STAINED UNDER PRESSURE weather so grace- me aes i nee , , g 24 <4} a + 4 “\- w. . x

— aa ae . * ee Koy rs tht < 4 , 1406 Oliver Street, North Tonawanda, N. Y Toronto — - arge size | eer gtaphs of new —_ : : Dipt homes by leading architects, ho veautified, booklet of colo 28 interesting photographs suggestions, and name of local Creo-Dipt Dealer, who will recommend a Name reliable carpenter-contractor (Outsi te U. S. or Canada, please send §oc in money order or international stamps.) Addres GENUINE CcCREO-DIrP?TS ARE SOLD EVERYWHERE B Y Lf

- “ LJ Covering old ADI In Creo-Dipts, beauty and economy meet. More than that —owners find that Creo- Dipts over old siding add an extra coat of . reduce fuel bills as much as is% Your builde r or lumber dealer will tell you about Creo-Dipts. insulation. . to 25% each year. architect, They have used and recom- mended them for more than 20 years. The coupon below will bring you 28 in- teresting photographs of beautiful Creo- Dipt homes. Won’t you mail it today? Oc-pve , bac., 1929 oe ene nae = Piet BSAA IE RE I."

" =~ ~ @.. ~ ~ : Te _* ¥" ae : _,* Il , * 3 te . Check use that interests you side-walls B ling new Re NG LUMBER DEA!

Page 182

In other words—preparedness. In daily life where the importance of preparedness for emergencies is recog- nized, a roll of DUTCH BRAND Friction Tape should be kept for the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST e. » le _ ( Te ’ e who carries an vumbrella does not , bs Wy — CONFUCIUS hundreds of uses that come up for it constantly. DUTCH BRAND Friction Tape is just the thing for repairing worn wiring on electrical household appliances, auto ignition and lighting systems. Use it, too, for stopping leaks in garden hose, auto radiator hose and for binding broken (Continued from Page 180) of Mike’s affection. I knew exactly what he meant to communicate, also that it ben be impossible for him to put it into words. He was through. And he was ap- = me his successor, not to carry on policies but to inaugurate my own. On the following day my office was crowded with anxious friends and relatives of Wr ery men and women. All were confident that I could soon have them re- leased. 1 looked into the situation and dis- covered that the governor had made arrangements to transfer several judges from other districts to our county to try the cases, They were not justices of the peace, either; they were judges. He had invoked the full powers of his office under laws that had almost been forgotten. At one time— and not mahy years before—such high- handed procedure would have been re- sented bitterly as an attack upon local | self-government. Now it was either ap- | proved or accepted with gloomy resigna- | tion. There was no fight left in us. Our | wide-open town simply closed its doors and switched off the lights. Public opinion had spoken; no matter that it stuttered, nor that the governor was somewhat of a hypocrite. Personally I was glad to have done with that phase of boss rule. I never had believed that it represented the best sources of either strength or revenue. I made a few gestures in behalf of the victims of the raids in order to maintain my titular position, but that was the sole purpose. Mike simply abdicated and went on a vacation. As soon as I could clear my office of un- | welcome clients I summoned the executive heads of two construction companies that had done some work for the city, and we formed a corporation in which I received a block of stock. Nominally, it was my fee for legal services. Actually, it was under- stood that henceforth this company would get contracts from the city—and it did. Next I summoned the executives of our three trunk-line railroads and offered them my assistance in acquiring the land they | needed for a union station. This project | had been hanging fire for several years be- | cause of the excessive price one man had tocol handles and athletic equipment. With DUTCH BRAND you make a | fixed for one parcel of land. There was permanent repair of any of those myriad articles in daily use that are bound to | another delayed project for a new post wear and break. It prevents inconvenience and saves repair bills. Non-raveling; | unaffected by age—a real insulation! For 5, 10, 20 or 35 cents you can get a hand Friction Tape in any good electrical, radio, hardware, motor accessory or gen- eral store. That's a lot of preparedness for mighty little moneyand today is | the the best day to buy it. Big Industries use DUTCH BRAND widely as original material for permanent con struction of thousands of electrical devices. Industry keeps DUTCH BRAND handy. too, for many hun- dreds of emergencies that arise almos: daily in power plantsand big factosies where tied-up machinery means great loss. roll of DUTCH BRAND | The DUTCH BRAND trade- matk o quality. products bear the mark. any article means wenty-three kindred World Wide Distribution Through Jobbing Channels VAN CLEEF BROS, *“isit' Manufacturers Rubber and Chemical Products Woodlawn Ave., 77th to 78th Sts., Chicago, U. S. A. This mark identifies products of the Rubberizing Division of Van Cleef Bros., which specializes in waterproof fabrics for Raincoats, Shower Curtains, Aprons, and Rubber Sheeting. It's a trademark that guarantees absolute satisfac- tion. Look for it. Another Household Necessity 20c fer a 3 oz. handy spout can of lubricating oil—no better quality obtainable at the price. DUTCH BRAND General Use Oil lubri- cates, cleans and polishes. It will not gum up the most delicate mechan- ism. Safe for cleaning and polishing the finest woodwork or furniture. Obtain it from hardware and auto accessory dealers or mailed direct prepaid upon receipt of price, 20c. © office. It was held up because the proper would be near the new union station. a way out of this difficulty. My | ples was that the city government should | Offer to obtain the proper post-office site for Government and transfer it. The city would then exercise its power of eminent domain and take the plot of ground | which the railroads had been unable to buy. The price, even when fixed by condemna- tion proceedings, would no doubt be much above the F Government’s appro- priation for a post-office site and we would then raise the question as to whether the city should absorb the loss. While this | question was pending the railroads would | offer to buy the plot without any loss. That | would meet with public approval and the sale would be made. Thus the whole mat- ter would be straightened out and the union station could be built. In return for this assistance the railroads would give gen- erous coftracts to my newly formed cor- poration. We reached an agreement within two houts. It was a better stroke of busi- hess than old Mike had accomplished during his entire career. I estimated that it would net me not less than twenty-five thousand dollars and it called for no illegal actions. On the contrary, it helped every- one affected except the recalcitrant land- owner, and even he was awarded about twice what his property was worth by the committee of five which the court named to fix the value. He was holding out for | twenty times the assessed valuation of the | property, or about ten times its market | value. | This transaction brought me much pres- | tige in the world of big business, where I | had previously been regarded as a mere fixer. Railroad executives were conferring | among themselves rather anxiously at that May 25,1929 time about the coming session of the legis- lature. Other business interests were also appointing committees and planning to send lobbyists to the capital to fight Gov- ernor Tom’s program for extensive regula- tion of corporations and an upheaval in the tax laws. All these men assumed that I would be a leader of the opposition, and naturally my name was mentioned in their conferences. After a few of them had met me in the course of the union-station deal they decided to admit me to their councils. A sort of supercommittee of seven met one night in the private car of a railroad presi- dent down in the yards. I had never before seen the inside of a private car, but from early boyhood they had always meant to me the last word in Oriental luxury. I don’t even know what I meant by Oriental luxury; at any rate that private car stands out in my memory as one of life’s saddest disillusionments. It was nothing but an office jammed too close for comfort to a kitchen and sprinkled with cinders. Our conference was an amusing game of hide and seek played in a fog. They as- sumed that I was some kind of grafter and tried to open the way for me to show my hand so that they could determine whether my game was too rough for safety. I let them know that I had no intention of ask- ing for money. This reassured them and we then proceeded on the assumption that I opposed Governor Tom’s program as a matter of principle. There was no hope of explaining just where I did stand, so I let it go at that. My actual position was one of accord with Governor Tom, tempered by a desire to prevent the lunatic enthusiasts among his supporters from carrying his ideas too far. If the committee had known that, the conference would have closed at once. I explained to them the importance of giving me exhaustive data bearing on all of the points soon to be at issue, so that I could win legislative strength by virtue of superior information. Instead they gave me their lengthy printed briefs attacking Governor Tom’s program in toto. They couldn’t understand that it had already won. Their theory was that they would furnish the arguments and that I would deliver them verbatim during the coming session of the legislature. Business men, I think, usually do this in similar situations; to me, at least, it ex- plains why they get such small returns from their expenditures for lobbying. Not only were their arguments entirely unsuited for use anywhere except before a higher court but even their statistical data could be understood only by experts familiar with the businesses in question. In short, they were eager to address the public in a foreign language. I could see the grave danger that this would lead to disaster, both for them and Governor Tom; moreover, I had not the time to decipher their arguments and data, and translate them into the language of legislators. However, some- thing had to be done, so I urged them to summon Mike Callaghan. They smiled at this. Now, they thought, the cat is out of the bag—Mike does the collecting. I couldn’t let that impression stand un- challenged—not that Mike or I cared a hoot what they thought, but because I had to have Mike’s help, and in order to get it I must make them understand his value. “Gentlemen,” I said, “we are face to face with a problem as old as government. You have prepared arguments that are of tremendous weight to business men and oi no weight whatever to politicians; in fact, they aren’t even intelligible. You are gird- ing your loins to enter a fight that ended on election day: Politically Governor Tom’s program now has the binding force of a signed contract. You are going to be regu- lated and your taxes are going to be in- creased. The only question is whether the job will be done sanely or insanely. Most of the men who will vote for the forth- coming laws will not even read them. They will accept what the committees offer. If I fight the governor’s program I will not be on any of the committees that draft the (Continued on Page 185) ee LES

Page 183

a LF A THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 183 “QUICK SURE ROAD to INCREASED SALES Select your logical prospects, Get your sales message before them quickly, convine- ingly, often. No waste effort. No guesswork. You know you are reaching the people you want, when you want to reach them. Thousands of concerns are doing it every day in every line of business. Retail. ers select the customers they want in their town or neighborhood. Wholesalers “cover the trade” intensively in any territory. Manu- facturers contact their sales outlets often and pave the way for their salesmen. Addressograph products and Addressograph methods will make it possible for you to increase sales. They will form the foundation of a low-cost, accurate program of direct- mail advertising that gets results. Why not do what others in your line of business are doing right now? The Addressograph representative is an experienced man. He can give you valuable assistance. He will help you prepare a list of logical prospects or revise your present list. He will help you work mut methods of profitable advertising. Call him in and discuss the entire natter. Or mail the coupon and detailed information will be sent to you. Sales and service agencies in the principal cities of the world LES ADDRESSOGRAPH COMPANY, 900 W. Van Buren St., Chicago Canada: Toronto, Vancouver, Montreal European Head Office and Factory: London, England Manufacturers of Graphotype Addressograph Dupligraph Cardograph Speedaumat Model F-2 Electric — $375. Handles name and data writing on ali forms thru a ribbon, 2,000 to 3,000 an hour fe electrically operated models from $285 to $575. All prices F. O. B. Chicago. Pr ca °o duces 1500 mes sages On pos cards in an hour Model H-3 — $75.. Imprint names or data, 1200 to 1800 im pressions an hour! Orher ham operated models from $20 t , sontic enact $105. All prices F. O. B \ 2,000 letters Pet hour, complet $485 to $13,0K . *hic with name, address, : Chicago. date, entire lerrer and signature F. O. B. Chicag 4 a Mail Ad with your letterhead to | ressO Ea yo | 3 ? A ppREssOoRAPH Co. 900 Wes Vat Buret TRACE ™ ; PRINTS FROM TYPE ; | ET eagd pectos my sales and reduc« 7 4 ating expense $29 Copyright 1929 Addressograph Co. 4

Page 184

184 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Enjoyable Living Rooms by KROEHLER Davenport Bed No. 1798—Up- holstered in an attractive shade of deep rose damask,with outside back of davenport in plain velour — reverse sides of spring-filled cushions alsoindamask. . .... $170 Fireside Chair No. 1798— Decidedly out of the ordinary is this Fireside Chair in a leasing pattern of figured green tapestry. Reverse side of cushion in same material $91 loday the A Kroehier Davenport Bed answers the need for added sleeping space in the truly modern way. Expensive remod- eling is not required—nor an added room at twenty to twenty-five per cent more rental. By day, with or without matching chairs, it graces the oe ‘~~~ as only fine upholstered living room urniture can. But by night, one simple optieing transforms the handsome davenport into a full width, deeply com- fortable bed, with thick mattress and all bedding in place ready to use—a restful bed with a sagless cable fabric spring. Thus your extra bedroom is provided for nightly or occasional use, at no extra cost. In the a rooms of many fine homes and apart- ments this modernized Kroehler Davenport Bed is today conspicuous; the graceful contours and stylish finish giving ao hint of the dual réle it plays. Kroehler Hidden Qualities The Kroehler Assured age | label is a pledge to you that the inside construction is built to highest standards —that all materials used are of superior quality—and that the beauty of your furniture will endure through many years of service. A new, improved Spring-Steel Underconstruction replaces the old-fashioned webbing. It nevef sags or breaks, and yet it makes a much more comfortable seat. All frames are of selected, kiln-dried hardwood, firmly g/ued, doweled and corner-blocked. Not soft wood frames merely nailed together. Krochler construction 1s permanent irrespective of the price you pay. Cushions are made more comfortable by many small, fine, flexible springs—isaterlocked to form a single unit. The padding is of clean, white, felted cotton and the filling is of high grade moss. davenport May 25, 1929 bed is considered modern Coverings are of elect quality. You may choose from beautiful silk danasks, rich tapestries, fine mohairs, Chase Velmo, jaquard velours, Ca-Vel velvets, linen frieze and moquete. Also leathers of exquisite softness. Yet Kroehler Assured Quality Furniture—because it is built in the tengreat Kroehler factories where modern ideas of construction, modern manufacturing practices and tremendous volume reduce the cost of making— offers this finer quaity at very moderate prices. Ifyou do notknew the name of your nearest Kroehler dealer, write us. We will send his name and a free copy of our booklet, “Esjoyable Living Rooms.” KROEHLER NFG. CO., CHICAGO, ILL. o: Stratford, Canada Factories at: Chicage, Ill; Naperville, Ill; Kankakee, III; Bradley, Ill.; Dallas, lexas; Binghamton, N.Y.; Los Angeles, Calif.; San Francisco Calif.; Cleveland, Ohio. Canadian Fac- ries: Stratford, Ont. KS Oe eR This Kroebler Label fee identifies the genuine

Page 185

(Continued from Page 182) bills. Consequently I am going to support the governor’s program. But I am going to endeavor to make it constructive. The great changes it will bring about are not necessarily damaging to you. What I know of history proves to me that eventually the various economic interests of a state come to have their proportionate share of influence in the government—but rarely before they pay their proportionate share of the taxes. This state has always been ruled by the farmers, because they pro- duced its wealth. Now the cities and the public utilities have become almost as im- portant as agriculture. Hence it is time for them to take their rightful place in the councils of government—but not until they pay their taxes. “What is about to happen to you isn’t a disaster; rather, it is your badge of man- hood. You are no longer infants. Of course, if you are going to kick and scream when the farmers present you your long pants, they'll spank you. I’m going to try to keep you from getting spanked—that’s all. You'll find me working hand in glove with the new governor. Someone else must commit political suicide by acting as your spokesman. I intend to remain in politics for many years. If you will hire Mike Callaghan to read the bale of literature you have just offered me, he will tell me what it is you are trying to say and I will make use of it to the best of my ability. If this is not satisfactory we are through. I am pri- marily a politician, as I have said before, and your fortunes are not allied to mine. I can do just as well in the present political gales by giving you hell.” It was a bold adventure, this speech, for I really wanted to work with them, but I felt it would be silly to craw] into their good graces by humiliating capitulation. “What would Callaghan cost?” the chairman asked. “IT don’t know,” I said, “‘and if I were you I wouldn’t ask. He isn’t eager for the job, I’m sure. Make him what you con- sider a reasonable proposition. Have in mind that you are making him associate counsel for this whole group. He has no license, but I believe he is one of the ablest constitutional lawyers in this country. For your present needs there is no other man even approximately his equal. He will not bargain with you, I know. Make him your offer and he will either accept or probably not even answer your letter.” The committee authorized the chairman to bargain with Mike and that ended our session. s THE SATURDAY A week later Mike again called on me. “What's going on around here?” he de- mancied gruffly, at the same time showing me the chairman’s letter. It was a well- worded letter and the salary named was twenty thousand dollars a year; not very large when you consider the enormous in- terests at stake. I explained to Mike about the conference in the private car. “But twenty thousand dollars!”’ he ex- claimed. ‘‘What do these scoundrels think I am? A crook? Do they want me to bribe the legislature?” Poor Mike had never garnered that many shekels in any one year of his entire czar- dom. It was an unthinkable sum to him. I tried to explain that it was a straight sal- ary, and a modest one, for a very difficult job that no one else could do. And as I talked I meditated upon the fact that Mike was now being urged to do for me the very thing I had done for him when first we be- came associated in politics. I had been his adviser in the franchise fight. Now he was to become mine—that is, if he accepted. “‘Are you sure,” he asked, “that they don’t want me to buy anybody?” “I’m sure,” I said. He sat down, lighted a cigar and pondered glumly. Finally he said: ‘“ You know that brother of mine?” I did. “‘Well, he gets twenty thousand dol- lars a year from a gang of damage-suit shysters for picking jurors. He knows which ones are always for big verdicts and which ones are procorporation and who is somebody's cousin and all that kind of skuliduggery. I’ve always regarded that brother of mine as a crook—just between you and me—so I don’t take any twenty- thousand-dollar salaries. If they’re hon- est, fifteen is plenty; and if they ain't, I'd be quitting before I started, anyway.” I shall omit the details of our humorous negotiations; we compromised on fifteen thousand. And I went back to the legis- lature to face the fight of my life. There had been sufficient changes in its member- ship to leave me much less strength than I | had had before. I would have to rebuild | my fences. Also I must try to win my way into the good graces of a governor who hated Mike venomously. Whatever I did for the business interests would have to be done under cover. If my friendly attitude toward them were discovered I would be ruined in spite of the fact that my purposes were not dishonest. I was hopeful, also, that I might again assist in drawing the ap- propriations bill. On the whole, I had as- signed myself quite an armful of chores. (TO BE CONCLUDED) ORAWN BY DORA: D MC KEE Familiar Monologue: ‘*What We Want ish Temperanch. I'm Against Prohibition, Mind You—But I’m for Temperanch Every Time. Moderation, What I Mean. Y" Never Get it by Exercise of Forsh; Y" Gotta Leave it te the Will Power and Per: shonal Initiative of the Individual. I Guesh We Know Whatsh Beshkt for Ush"’ EVENING POST HEN the emergency comes - a flat tire, miles from anywhere . . . be prepared, Save time, trouble, expense by carry- ing a Shaler Vulcanizer in your car. Make permanent, heat- welded repairs . . . the safe kind . this simple, quick way Shaler Vulcanizing Outfit M-100 sells for only $1.00... Deluxe Model M-5 tor $1.50 . . . slightly higher in Canada and far West. Obtainable at garages, service stations, filling stations and auto supply stores everywhere . The Shaler Company. 100 Fourth St., Waupun, Wis., U.S.A. - - - Remember . . . always insist on Shaler Vulcanized repairs when you have punctures fixed. They cost no more than makeshift repairs. Where you see the sign shown below displayed you are sure of getting genuine Shaler Vulcanized repairs. ISS

Page 186

THE TEENIE “Ly WEENTES. here was a moist woodsy smell in the air. 9 Frogs blinked stupidly at sluggish flies and the birds preened their feathers and stared into the yellow sunshine. Beneath a certain clump of bushes the Teenie Weenie village dreamed through the day's work. Many of the little men, no taller than an ink bottle, covered yawns behind their tiny hands. "| don't know what's the matter with everybody,” said the General "The men act as though it were a great task to lift a toffie and the boys in the peanut butter factory could hardly cut throu; gh the shell of a peanut with an ax. I can't understand it—I found the Dunce sound asleep to-day behind a jar of sweet chow in the pickle factory. I can't make out what is the matter with them.” “It's Spring fever, General,” smiled the Lady of Fashion as she threaded a tiny needle with a thread of spider's web. “All they need is a little vacation and I suggest 2 picnic.” MO TEENTE WEENIE FOODS Leon Asparagu Sweet orn Stringless Beans Pickles Sardines Wheathearts Beets Peanut Butter Diced Carrots Lima Deans Popcorn Peas New York - Boston - Pittsburgh - Wilkes-Barre - Tampa - THE SATURDAY EVENING POST \ “HOORAY!” shouted the Dunce, who had been dozing on the caterpillar fur rug before the open door. "I believe you're right!” exclaimed the General. We've been working pretty hard and fast lately and a picnic will do us all good.” The little people were greatly pleased with the idea of a picnic and many plans were made for the great event. It was decided to have the picnic on an island in the creek and the General promised to charter a duck for the trip. The day before the picnic the Cook was busy pre- paring the good things to eat and the little womer. washed and ironed most of the day in order to be neat and clean for the holiday. The Teenie Weenies were out of their tiny beds before daylight and after a hurried breakfast, of Teenie Weenie Wheathearts, the men carried the picnic food down to the creek. There was a thimbleful of Teenie Weenie Sardine sandwiches and a thimbleful of Teenie Weenie Peanut Butter sandwiches. A whole Teenie Weenie Sweet Pickle had been wrapped carefully to keep it fresh and clean and five on of Teenie Weenie Popcorn were = taken along as a special esas: treat. Reid, Murdoch & Co. Jacksonville Chicago - San Francisco - May 25, 1929 The Lady of Fashion made a delicious salad out of Teenie Weenie String Beans and Teenie Weenie Diced Carrots with bits of Teenie Weenie Beets cut in to make it pretty. There were Teenie Weenie hammocks, Teenie Weenie blankets for the babies to roll on and a Teenie Weenie Toffie was taken along for dessert. The duck swam up at the appointed time, and when the Teenie Weenie women and children were helped onto his back he swam off to the island, where he left the little folks and returned for the food and the Teenie Weenie men. The little people had a wonderful time on the island. Oniy one thing happened to mar the day and even that proved to be lots of fun for the tiny people. The Dunce insisted on riding on top of the duck’s head, and all might have gone well if the General had not asked the duck a question. The duck shook his head so violently he shook the poor Dunce off into the water. Fortunately a feather, from the duck, happened to float within reach and the Dunce was able to drift to shore. The duck carried the Teenie Weenies safely back home in the evening and all the little folks declared they had never spent such a lovely day. “A picnic in the woods is certainly a healthful and lovely way to spend a day,” said the General as he walked towards home that evening. "Yes, it is! answered the Doctor,” Especially if one has plenty of delicious Monarch Teenie Weenie food to eat.” SUPER-QUALITY FOODS- SOLD ONLY THROUGH INDEPENDENT GROCERS Los Angeles - Phoenix - Kansas City - St. Louis ‘ { — ——— Ey a

Page 187

a ee THE SATURDAY ABOUT THESE MYSTERY punch that the average detective story lacks. It will be noted that in the above I have stuck to what I might call the Gents’ Ordi- nary or Stock-Size detectives. Travers - Jerningham, if he ever comes to fruition —if “fruition” is the word I want; a thing of which I am by no means sure—will be just one more of those curt, hawk-faced, ama- teur investigators. It is not merely that I cannot be bothered to vary the type; I feel that, if you are going to have an amateur investigator, this even now is still the best sort to employ. The alternatives are, of course: (a) The Dry, (b) The Dull, (c) The Effervescent; and I am not very fond of any of them. The Dry Detective is elderly. He wears pince-nez and a funny hat, and is apt to cough primly. He is fussy and old-maidish. He comes within an ace of doddering. Of course, get him in a corner and he suddenly produces a punch like a prize fighter, but out of his corner he is rather a bore. Not such a bore, of course, as the Dull Detective. This is the one who unmasks criminals by means of his special knowledge of toxics and things, and gets on the villain’s track owing to the discovery that the latter is definitely brachycephalic. This is a pest. The Effervescent Detective is rather a new invention. He isa bright young fellow of independent means whose hobby is the solution of problems. They like him at Scotland Yard, and he chaffs them. Some- times Inspector Faraday is a little inclined to shake his head at the young man’s sug- gestions, but he is the first to admit that Tony Dalrymple has an uncanny knack of being right. And the dear chap is so delight- fully flippant with it all. None of that “Holmes, who has done this fearful thing?” stuff about him. Violence to the person cannot damp Tony’s spirits, provided it is to some other person. Viewing the body brings out all that is gayest and sprightliest in him. The Sleuth With a Smile **So this is the jolly old corpse, is it, inspec- tor? Well, well, well! Bean bashed in anda bit of no-good done to the merry old jugu- lar,what? Tut, tut, mother won't like this at all. You’re on to the fact that the merchant who messed this cove up was left-handed and parted his hair in the middle, of course? And a good job he made of it, didn’t he?” Not a frightfully attractive young man. But spreading, I re- grettosay. You meet himeverywherenow- adays. The best detec- tives—Edgar Wal- lace’s—are always Scotland Yard men. To a public surfeited with brilliant ama- teurs there is some- thing very restful about the man from Scotland Yard. He has a_ background. You can believe in him. If I found it impossible to head my son off from writ- ing mystery stories, I should advise him to give his heroes an official standing. Then he would have the Record and Finger-Print Depart- ment at his back and, if he wanted to stop the villain leaving London, he could tell off three thousand policemen to watch the roads. en we “* YAN zs Gi ) ' (Continued from Page 33) It is true that the villain would get through just the same, but you can’t say it isn’t nice to have the sympathy and moral support of three thousand policemen. I have got James—or John, as the case may be—pretty clear, then, on the detec- tive end of the job. He has now to face a far more serious problem. What of the villain? The Moronic Master Criminal Villains in mystery stories may be divided broadly into three classes—all silly. (a) Sinister men from China or Assam or Java or India or Tibet—for practically any- where except Ponder’s End and Peebles who are on the track of the jewel stolen from the temple. (b) Men with a grudge which has lasted as fresh as ever for thirty years. (ec) Master Criminals. With regard to (a), I should advise James to try almost anything else first. | rather faney that sinister jewel trackers have about reached saturation point. Besides, what I might call the villain-supplying nationalities have grown so absurdly touchy these days. Make your murderer a China- man now, and within a week of your story’s appearance letters are pouring into the publisher’s office, signed Disgusted Peking—and Mother of Five —Hankow protesting against the unfair libel. Go elsewhere and you run up against Pater- familias—Java—and Fair Play—Tibet. It is not worth it. And yet the idea of falling back on (5) is not agreeable. The age in which we live is so practical, so matter-of-fact. We are no longer able to believe as readily as our fathers did in the man who cherishes a grudge for a quarter of a century. It was all very well in the old days, when there were fewer distractions, but what with golf anc. tennis and cross-word puzzles, and the flat-race season and the jumping season, and looking after the car and airing the dog and having to learn how to score at contract bridge, it seems simply incredible that a man should be able to keep his mind on some unpleasantness which happened in the early spring of 1904. Which brings us to the last class Criminals. The psychology of the Master Criminal is @ thing I have never been able to under- stand. I can follow the reasoning of the man who, wishing to put by something for a rainy day, poisons an uncle, shoots a couple of cousins and forges a will. That is Master EVENING POST STORIES business. It is based on sound commercial principles. But the Master Criminal is simply a ditherer. He does not need money. He has got the stuff. What with the Delancy emeralds and the Stuyvesant pearls and the Montresor Holbein and the bearer bonds he stole from the bank, he must have salted away well over a million. Then what on earth does he want to go on for? Why not retire? But do you think you could drive that into a Master Criminal’s head? Not in a million years. I have just been reading the latest story about one of these poor half- wits. This one, in order to go on being a Master Criminal, was obliged to live in a broken-down cellar on a smelly wharf on the river, posing as a lodging-house keeper. All he did with his time was chop wood in the back yard. And at a conservative estimate after paying salaries to his staff of one- eyed Chinamen, pock-marked Mexicans and knife-throwing deaf mutes, he must have been worth between two and three million pounds. He could have had a yacht, a fleet of motor cars, a house in Grosvenor Square, a nice piace in the country, a bit of shooting in Scotland, a few miles of fishing on some good river, a villa on the Riviera, and a racing stable. He could have run a paper, revived British opera and put on Shakspere at popular prices. But no; he preferred to go on living in his riverside cellar, which was flooded every time there was a high tide, simply because he wanted to be a Mas- ter Criminal. One scarcely knows whether to laugh or weep. The One Satisfactory Villain I remember one Master Criminal, just as rich as this man, who set his whole organi- zation at work for weeks digging a tunnel into a bank. And what do you think he got out of it? Twelve thousand pounds. Not guineas— pounds. Twelve thousand pounds! Can you beat it! Just about what I am paid for writing this article. Perhaps, on the whole, then, James, you had better avoid all three of the types of villain which I have mentioned and stick to the Fiend in Human Shape. This variety has the enormous advantage that he has not got to be made plausible. He is a homicidal lunatic, and, as such can get away with anything. To the man with the thirty- year-old grudge we say, “But, my dear fellow, consider. If you stick that knife into Sir George, what of the future? What will you doin the long winter evenings with no dream of ven- geance tonurse?"’ To the Master Criminal we point out that he is giving himself a lot of trouble to add to an income which is already absurdly large. He cannot like having to put on false whiskers and stand outside the hero's bedroom on a chilly night, pumping poi- son gas through it, or enjoy climbing up a slippery roof to drop cobras down the chimney. But the Fiend in Human Shape we merely pat encouragingly on the back and speed on his way with a cheery **Good luck, Fiend, old man! Go as far as you like!” And he gnashes his teeth amiably and snaps into it with an a. narl, 187 Golfers! WMYYANMYY)MYYYW@IY THE KING qp’ THEM ALL is now ab ob (s10 a dozen) Little wonder that there has been rejoicing far and wide throughout golfdom at the announcement that the King is now 85ce. In its native England the Sil- ver King has always been the top heavy favorite with ama- teur and “pro” alike. In Amer- ica golfers have gladly paid $1 or more for the ball. Even manufacturers have conceded the palm to the Silver King as “the most carefully made ball in the world.” It’s always been good psychol- ogy to play the best—with this new low price for the King it’s good economy too, THE SILVERTOWN CO. LONDON +. > . John Wanamaker NEW YORK Sole United States Distributors

Page 188

i88 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

ONY >&'~

€ ; resentin Fashion's newest... : antzen Color sg Harmony Sets’. . . two matched Jantzens in a choice of har- monizing colors for your type .< . blonde, brunette or titian. A choice of models, too. The new Jantzen Sun-suil, with low-cut back and armholes . ... ideal for sun-bathing as well as swimming! The voguish Jantzen Twosome . . . two piece appearance with one-piece comfort! The regulation Jantzen . . . smart in its simplicity! For those in and out of the water several times a day, these color harmony sets are indispensable. As the gift distinctive, they are inspirational, You can depend on the Jantzen to ive you smartness with its trim, graceful lines, to give you absolute com- aa and freedom for swimming and to assure you bat ce of fit «cl always. For Jantzen is tightly cicsed from the strongest long-fibred wool. It fits you lightl , smoothly, without a’ wrinkle. Due to the magic of Jantzen-stitch, it has permanent elasticity. See the new Jantzen maul at your local stores, for men, women and childcen. Conveniently butronless in sizés to 42; unbreakable button on larger sizes. Bright $6; pastel shades, stripes. Color-fast. Your weight is your size. Jantzen Knittin Mills, Portland, ‘Oregon; Vancouver, Canada; Sydney, Australia.

May 25, 1929

Page 189

=“ = _——_ a It was only natural, after the animals had been well grounded in the estimation of an appreciative laity, that the talents of the molders should take on greater lati- tude. Being true artists, intelligent and possessed of rare technical skill, they did not bridle their imaginations but made pro- nounced headway with their ingots. Cast- iron settees with a companion chair were fashioned in which ferns, grape clusters and morning-glories were the motifs. Lintels, verandas, fences, garden borderings and lamp-posts were cast to add charm to the landscape. Nor were exteriors considered to the neglect of interiors! Cast-iron cuspi- dors, the lids done in delicate leaf-and- grape designs, were supplied as highly ornamental for any home or office; and serviceable too. But the gem of the cast- iron furniture was the hall tree. This was poured out from six to eight feet in height, construction simulating the limbs of trees. There were numerous knobs and projections, a little square mirror about halfway up, and wide, curved branches to hold umbrellas that might drip into the saucerlike base. These trees were very top-heavy and not in- frequently, loaded with garments on the night the IXL Club met, they crashed. Why the casualties resulting from this dainty bit of furniture were not larger is stil! a matter of wonderment among those familiar with the atrocity. The public—that is, the moneybags— received the furniture with warm acclaim. The makers were spurred to far greater ac- complishments. Though they did not pose as members of a classical or even so much as a pseudoclassical school, they began producing some astonishing statuary. Among their early efforts, designed with a view to practical usage, was the perfection of the colored boy—The Darky—a hitch- ing post. Kinky-haired, barefooted and picturesquely ragged and painted, The Darky was installed by the better class of residents who kept more than one horse. He extended a welcoming hand which held an iron ring. Through this ring the gay courtier slipped and tied a line, to come down off the porch a little later with a neatly frocked daughter and her mother’s advice ringing in his jaunty ears: “Now you be careful of that sharp turn out by Cotherman’s! There’s been a lot of tip-overs at that corner lately!” The Fountainhead of Art A Chinese boy, holding an iron buckle, and a jockey were other designs in this class. But these were not common. Plain cast-iron horses’ heads mounted on a piece of cast-iron pipe predominated, being cheaper. Then the wooden cigar-store Indian was copied in zinc, and a Chinese mandarin with a conical coolie hat was evolved for the coffee-and-tea stores in the cities. As an advertising medium for den- tists there were huge sets of store teeth; for the feed merchant a sheaf of cast-iron wheat; a wire-and-iron hoopskirt for the dry-goods man; and four-foot pairs of spectacles for the jeweler and optician. Outclassing all other identification pieces, though, were the grand statues of Bacchus and Gambrinus, dallying with foaming flagons and smiling broadly. These were set back in niches in the brick wall over the entrances to breweries. There they turned green, but were pointed out as brilliant pieces showing unusual treatment and char- acter. This commercial application of cast iron and zine deserves only a passing note. Much more important work, inspired by genuine human interest, was done to insure better backgrounds and foregrounds for more gracious living. Patrons of none of the old masters, spurning studies that had aroused the cultured workers of Greece and Rome, even forgetting that combat be- tween man and beast was the most fertile of motifs, the molders allowed simple and THE SATURDAY WILD IRON LIFE (Continued from Page 25) original ideas to sway their creations. Their fountains, cloistered in a cast-iron trellis, were not the studied triumphs of a Lysip- pus or a Niccolo of Apulia, but were, re- gardless, exquisitely unique. In one a little barefoot boy clasped the hand of a little girl and held an umbrella over their heads. The water jettied from the tip of the “‘bumbershoot,” as it was jokingly called. In another a Cupid rode on a pair of tan- dem dolphins with amazingly long flowing whiskers, the dolphins doing the spouting. A boy playing a fiddle was called Music of the Waters. He gazed steadily down into the basin where cast-iron frogs and turtles reposed far beneath the surface of the water, which was fringed with clumps of tin water lilies and buds. Quite a few of the cheaper fountains were plain three-deckers, the decks graduated in circumference. But for the most part they were clever. One classic represented a youth holding a boot over his head. The water dripped from a hole in the toe of the boot. The whole was fittingly named in the manufacturer’s catalogue: The Unfortunate Boot. Fireman, Save My Child! Groups, for public rather than private display, were commanding. These mainly resulted from special orders. A Neptune, six feet in height and with a ten-foot tri- dent, was done for the city of Hoboken, New Jersey, in zinc. The city of St. Paul, Minnesota, inaugurated a contest among producers for a heroic statue of a fireman. The prize was won with a design of a hel- meted, mustached laddie who «carried a lantern in his right hand while his left arm supported the figure of a child in a night- dress. Genius and the Lioness was a nice piece, Genius appearing in the form of a woman seated sideways on the back of the lioness, playing a harp. The heroic of George Washington depicted George with an unsheathed sword. He was standing on a pedestal and behind him, neatly piled, were four cannon balls. Probably the prize piece was done for a gentleman in Cincinnati who had made a fortune as a packer. He decided to present a fountain to the city. He insisted that the crowning feature—the finial—should be a cast-iron pig. One of the jewels of this artistry—a matchless study—was closely associated with one of the many turning points in the life of Roy L. McCardell, of New York City. It was on the lawn in front of a mansion on Long Island. Mr. McCardell, who recently offered a reward of one hun- dred dollars for the discovery of the fantasy, describes it thus: “A cast-iron Cupid, very fat, was reclin- ing lazily on a cast-iron sea shell sprinkled with pearly drops of cast-iron dew. One cherubic arm of the Cupid was outstretched, the forefinger pointing at a cast-ivon mastiff near by. On the cast-iron forefinger was a cast-iron butterfly, poised for flight.” Mr. McCardell’s reason for offering the reward was purely sentimental. He was calling on the daughter of the family —this was some thirty-five years ago—against the father’s consent, being at that time a news- peper reporter and, therefore, unwelcome. One night the father and his wife went downtown, probably to attend a band con- cert. It was supposed they would be ab- sent for quite a while. But they returned unexpectedly. Mr. McCardell, on the front porch, made a dash for freedom. He eluded the father, dodging, leaped the steps and fled into the dark. He was getting well under way when he suddenly crashed into the cast-iron Cupid and fel! headlong. Before he could recover, the father caught him and booted him the balance of the dis- tance over the wide and spacious lawn— one of the widest and most spacious lawns * on Long Island. It required several weeks for Mr. McCardell’s bruises and abrasions to heal, and by that time a hated rival had EVENING POST picked his way successfully through the maze of cast-iron pieces and had taken the girl to wed. Many other rare and joyous examples of the molder’s technic might be recited; for, | during the thirty years or more of the popularity of cast iron and cast zinc, the | makers seemed to reckon no limits in crea- tive endeavor. A further inventory is not | essential. But it is essential to note that the art, as practiced and distributed, was doomed to meet the disapproval of critics. Though the manufacturers declared the idea back of their work was “to cheer and refine,”” which is art’s noblest mission, the “arty” authorities began to cast aspersions. They said the dogs and other pieces were reflections on hand-hammered iron, held in high esteem. They declared the concep- tions were crude, grotesque, ugly, irrecon- cilable, noisy, overdone, abominable and | villainously bad. Their one condonement was that the “‘atrocities” could be maintained by the relatively poor classes while real money was required for real art. Everything in cast | iron and cast zinc should be abolished, they decreed, for aye, or longer. This unrelenting sentiment was engen- dered in the East, but the voice of the | scornful and the carping quickly penetrated to Detroit. Alert citizens of the City of the Straits heard the criticisms as early | as 1880. They were alarmed. They did not | want their landscape decorations to be classed as hors de la mode. They were proud. | Yet they did not want to make any soul- searing sacrifices on rumor. So they de- cided to hear the damning verdict first- hand. A committee of leading owners of the fauna was appointed. After some com- munication an expert landscapist from New York was engaged. He made the trip out, arrived in due course, and rode in a carriage up and down the avenues and boulevards with the concerned committeemen. He looked very grand and haughty. He did pay a modicum of credit. He said he could easily see that everyone had been indus- trious. Then he laughed, a low, sneering laugh. “But this is a progressive city,” he de- clared. “‘You folks don’t have to guard your homes any more with those hideous dogs against the attacks of Indians. Those animals are crude! The statues are terrible! Away with everything! It’s bad and it’s old stuff!” Impounding the Pets The verdict delivered, he went away. The citizens, crestfallen as they were, were not fast to follow the order. Their thoughts lingered on the money and labor invested. But soon, wincing at the knowledge of their position, several aristocrats started the carnage. Fences, garden borderings, furni- ture, stags and hounds were erased. Others snapped into line. And all was desolated, except on the lawn of one man, who, swayed by sentiments of long associations, defying the decree, publicly announced that the New York expert could “go to Tophet.” He kept his French bloodhound, his treas- ure, standing as was, right where it was destined to remain and where it stands today, an epic reminder of the owner's al- legiance to cast-iron and cast-zinc signifi- cance. The decision of the Detroiters demanded action in other of the larger cities. But the attitude did not make itself felt in the small towns until along in the 90’s. Once it pene- trated, the owners there, sensitive to criti- cism and anxious to keep pace with their proper big-town neighbors, martyred their units of the institution. The movement of destruction quickly gained fearful head- way. Forgetting the long, lonely vigils the animals had kept and the pride-filled mo- ments they had provided, orders were given. Callous junk dealers, seeking only 189 ‘To WOMEN who grow weary of MENDING - ~~ See that your men- folk wear guaranteed NO-RIP underwear GUARANTER | “TS. guarantee slip, given with each No-rip purchase, means that this underwear never goes to the mending basket. If it does rip, take it back —ge! a new suit FREE. No-rip is rip-proofed at all strain points; webbing is dou- bled in back. Made for comfort, too—tailored to fit. in models for “Stouts”, “Longs” and “Regulars” — Men like it. And —it never needs mending. No-Rip Shorts 75e, $1, $1.50 No-Rip Shirts . 75c, 81, $1.25 No-Rip Junior ...... - 8c Buy it at your local Men's Wear or Department Store Guaranteed by MARSHALL FIELD & COMPANY . Whoirsale CHICAGO NEW YOukK

Page 190

THE SATURDAY The SPRAYIT _ BLOW TORCH INSTANT Kerosene Flame No Pre-heating we pumping! No priming! No pre-heating! Turn the valve, 4 “ strike a match! Instant kerosene flame! The hottest blue flame you've ever worked with is on the job. Actually 30% more heat from common kerosene than others produce from costly high test gasoline. Safe, no dangerous dripping. Efficient, no carbon to dull performance. Reliable, SPRAYVIT Combination Set for All Blow Torch and Paint Spraying Work The SPRAYIT BLOW TORCH is equally well adapted for use with well-known Agitator Type ELECTRIC SPRAYIT, of which thousands upon thousands are in daily use. Plugs in at any light socket. With the Agitator Type ELECTRIC SPRAYIT, at only $39.50, you can now buy for less than $60.00, a compact, portable Combination Set for better ~~ quicker-~cheaper blow torch and paint spraying work. Agitator Type ELECTRIC SPRAYIT no weather condition —cold, wind, or rain—can affect it. Burns any fuel effectively and safely with instantaneous and perfect combustion. THE ELECTRIC SPRAYIT COMPANY, known the world over as leaders in the science of pressure breakup, now successfully applies this scien- tific principle to blow torches in its simplest, safest and most economical form. This outstanding engineering achievement now makes it possible for you to use your airline — any compressed air supply — to get the kind of blow torch you have always wanted. Only 819.75. Enter your order immediately. Workmanship and material fully guaranteed. Leading jobbers and dealers will supply you; or if you prefer, use coupon below. ELECTRIC SPRAYIT CO.. INC. | THE ELECTRIC SPRAYIT CO., INC., 105 E. Colfax Ave., South Bend, Ind. | j [| Send me the new SPRAYIT BLOW TORCH ‘a Send me the Agitator Type ELECTRIC “+ at $19.75, Lo. b. South Bend SPRAYIT at $39.50, f.0.b. South Bend. j ‘a Send me the new SPRAYIT Combination Set O Send me complete information only. at $59.25. f.0.b. South Bend. | WRITEZ COMPLETE NAME AND ADDRESS BELOW } | EVENING POST | sordid gain, appeared with low market quo- tations and egged on the owners. Garden- ers who had ever crustily cursed when they tried to run a lawn mower around the pieces added their encouragement. It meant nothing that this art represented simplicity, that the cast fauna was one of the nation’s first departures in landscape decoration! No. Séon stately stag and massive mastiff alike found their way into the maws of roaring furnaces, to be seen no more, alas! They, with the other specimens, became a part of the bubbling molten mass in some of the very cupolas that had given them birth, to be poured out again, all identity vanished, and fashioned into bathtubs, sash weights and the nondescript what not of unpoetic and uninspirational commerce. A Blank in the Annals of Art The rout was frightful. From near and far could be heard the thuds of the once- majestic creatures as they were tumbled over. Unfeeling hands laid harsh hold on horn, jowl and huckle bone. And, as this work of obliteration continued, the adverse attitude, sired by hauteur and dammed by scorn, colored the consciousness of the im- perial authorities in charge of art. They nodded approval. So it is that, today, not in all the storehouses of the wsthetes and the judges of what is and what isn’t, can there be found a single record of the existence of the cast-iron and cast-zinc era. In the great libraries one may examine tome after tome devoted to the sculpture of the ages without discovering a mention. | He may read of the glories of many worthy | pieces from The Mares of Diomedes to | Thetis Thinking How She May Regain the Birthright of Her Son Achilles but he’ll see no note on the cast-iron wolfhound with the spiraled tail. At the Metropolitan Museum of Art he may examine marbles of a mounted Arab spearing a lion, a py- thon crushing a crocodile, a crocodile de- vouring an antelope. He may stand impressed before the Hermes of Praxiteles, of Heracles drawing a mighty bow with no bowstring. But his yearning heart will not be warmed by the sight of a cast-iron Darky hitching post. Wander where he will through the havens of art, he may strain to catch a glimpse of an expensive, bronze-coated Newfoundland or a lowly setter incrusted with the rust of years, a stag green with oxidation or the heroic fire- man with the child. But he must turn away with a sigh. For his errand is fruitless. Discouraged, he might catch a flicker of hope. ‘And, as his last resort, he might write to the School of Landscape Architec- ture at Harvard University for information. Then he would receive the final jolt. For he’d receive a letter from Katherine Mc- Namara, the librarian, declaring that she could find no reference to the cast-iron | animal life in her collections. A sad picture. But, fortunately, all the owners were not poisoned by the critics’ edicts; all did not bow to the opinions of the scornful. When the tide of desolation rolled to its peak it did not engulf certain men with courage. Determined not to be influenced, these stalwarts preserved their specimens. James Mellon, of Pittsburgh, cousin of Andrew Mellon, kept his cast-iron deer on his | lawn. He declared then, as he declares | | | | | } | | | May 25,1929 today: “Once art, always art.” The late James Cleveland, of Watertown, New York, unmoved by the demands, stood adamant and maintained at his gates two cast-iron satyrs mounted on goats. Moreover, he directed in his will that the selections could not be moved unless claimed by a favorite daughter, Mrs. Will Roach, of Hart, Michigan. In that same city Fred- erick L. Jones and H. C. Van Weelden rescued a reclining French greyhound from a certain end and placed it where it will long remain, in the Black River Valley Club. Other owners stood as solidly as their pieces. And many persons, while affected, and ashamed to take a bullish position, stored their models in their barns and cel- lars. And now, after all the years, comes rec- ognition. There is a sudden realization that art is simplicity—that it is a record of human endeavor. There is a deep convic- tion that the pieces were symbolic of the times, regardless of how primitive or irrec- oncilable they may have been, and that they possessed the matchless quality of sincerity. So up from the dank, unwhole- some cellars come the dog and deer. Down from the lofts of the barns surmounted by the cast-iron weather vane of the gilded racing driver in his sulky come the fawn and squirrel. Collectors, nostrils wide on the scent, attend all auction sales. Pride of display is returning. And even Henry Ford, whose appreciation of art has carried him to far more distant periods, has picked up a few odd cast-iron horse-head hitching posts for his Dearborn Museum. Belated Appreciation So the sentiment for the preservation, mayhap a revival, of the cast-iron and cast- zinc animal life is spreading. The cry has been taken up by those who understand the part the animals played in the lives of young and old alike. Unlabored, unspoiled, unsophisticated, even if crude, the pieces deserve this tribute. And the forces of this discovery may one day be felt by those who man the temples where art is housed. This true, the time may come when a stroll through the Metropolitan Museum will re- veal the presence of a cast-iron pigeon, a cast-zine eagle, a brewery Gambrinus or a wire-whiskered rabbit. If the influence is strong enough and past neglect is fully atoned for, there may be a cast-iron alcove, possibly a cast-iron wing, where the cast-iron Cupid and The Unfortunate Boot will be arranged slightly beyond the gems of Donatello, Michelangelo and Botticelli. Time alone can bring this full realization and recognition. But the start has been made. Sympathies will strengthen. The significance will be honored. More and more the wsthetes and critics will come to believe with the nation’s sincere molders of those other days, and with Cowper: Nature assumes a more lovely face Borrowing a beauty from the works of grace. And they will proceed to the important work of fixing up the breach in their records so that posterity won’t have to hunt around in vain for some outstanding specimens of the cast-iron and cast-zine outdoor animal life of America. a ep ahgiow dhe -~

Page 191

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 191 Dis fei hain cbt So er a =) f ; y i i) 1 | — fl Gf A' A y iv 4 zt t A 4 ' y ( > SS NS AN NN NN Satie i lat allel alah tng ge nn” ED at ing g wt 0 fini ewig in eat ll MOST EVERY EVENING THIS SUMMER | = s | 4 —— | -you'll enjoy a pair of these sport shoes by Eight Dollars. The custom built wing-tip below | =} | Selz. White with black or tan trim. Soeft- is another handsome and correct model for light and cool’ relaxation and smart style. wear with white flannels. They are Ten Dollars. ; = =i) The Archlast Eight model above contains Only Selz experience, more than half a cen- = j the Selz newly developed arch elevator- tury of it-Selz facilities and production | gives added support restrains the flattening equipment could give you these shoes at $4) | of your feet~ lessens fatigue. The price is these prices. Other Selz models 86 to $12. : | Goodyear Rubber Heels THE SELZ ORGANIZATION—CHICAGO Bt ge u Mewiltons wear delz, Shoes ~Y ~ sapere a a 2 .aib ebb na Waa wee nee eS A ae pi.

Page 192

-- the open window! Many Kolster owners have surprise calls from neighbors eager to ask the question: “What make is that set we heard?” And when such an inquiry is made it is invariably followed by a purchase and by the swelling of the chorus: “Kolster is a fine set!” It is literally true that with Kolster the old proverb has proved sound: “Reputation is built by Repetition.” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST And the makers of Kolster Radio never claim more for Kolster than Kolster owners claim. Find out what these claims are from Kolster enthusiasts in your neighborhood and shortly you too will join the thousands of satisfied Kolster owners. Saved at Sea! Thousands of lives have been saved at sea through the use of the Kolster Radio Compass. Dr. Frederick A. Kolster, its inventor, is also the de- signer of the Kolster Radio receiving sets. What finer tribute could be given to Kolster dependability? Enjoy the Kolster Program every Wednesday evening at 10 P. M., Eastern Daylight Saving Time, over the nation-wide Columbia Chain. KOLS TER RADIO Copyright by Kolster Radio Corporation, 1929 May 25,1929 i a I el ON RB en. —

Page 193

them forth into Harlem, Lady Luck sat, pointing the finger of fortune at the lucky ones. “You will be rich and famous,” she would say, singling out a new one. Of course, being the Ethiopic Lady Luck, she dealt in the black man’s fame and wealth— a few thousand dollars, a name on a vaude- ville poster or in lights before a black-and- tan cabaret. Because Harlem is a city of luck. Even more so than in Wall Street, fortune in the black smudge of Manhattan hinges upon mere chance. Overnight, a Birmingham barber becomes a famous composer of popular songs. A New Orleans dice man become the head of the black literati. A sometime Memphis bartender becomes a famous mystic, patronized alike by Har- lem washerwomen and plump matrons from Park Avenue. A mammy boss becomes a famous singer of blue music. And so Mistuh Freddy pretty soon is firmly ensconced midst Harlem's Who's Who as Dr. Zelotes Jairus, mystic healer and master of juju. I don’t know where he got the name—or the idea. And who to this day does not remember the just fame of Madame Seely, silver-throated exponent of blue music, who at one time was Big Edna of Memphis? Don’t ask me how. Or why. Blame or thank the Ethiopic Lady Luck who con- trols the fortunes of the black smudge of Manhattan. Who am I, a mere white man, to look into the phantasmagoria of Har- lem and tell you why, out of tens of thou- sands of whirling, fading black faces, these two find luck? I do know that Jimmy DeWitt, a former Memphis newspaperman, gave Dr. Zelotes Jairus his start. Perhaps it was Jimmy who gave Mistuh Freddy the new name. i don’t know. I do know that Jimmy was free- lancing in New York and wrote a Sunday feature about Mistuh Freddy’s mastery of the black art. He even went so far as to furnish the props for the story. He went to the Bronx Zoo and borrowed a toothless old snake from an attendant he knew, and from somewhere he produced a toothless old woman. He dressed Mistuh Freddy up in an outlandish outfit and took his picture with the old woman and the old snake. It made a peach of a story. They came in droves after that —lovesick folks to buy the wise doctor's love potions; men and women with domestic troubles; folks with high ambition and little energy who craved fame; slumming parties from Park Avenue; shop girls in ridiculous furs and chorus girls and night-club wenches in sables—all asking the same fiddle-faddle of Mistuh Freddy, the toothless old woman and the toothless old snake: ‘‘ When do our dreams come true?” Mistuh Freddy moved to more preten- tious quarters. Now Dr. Zelotes Jarius was a manufacturer of voodoo drugs with dis- tributing clinics in other cities. No cocaine, of course. The power of aname isstrong and the People knew of Dr. Zelotes Jairus. And Big Edna! Deep in a Harlem cellar, where pale white faces mixed with black, Fame sought her out. Abraham Yuratovac, better known as Earl Holden, the well- known impresario of Tin Pan Alley, heard her sing one night in the black-and-tan. The rest was easy. A short vaudeville tour, a Palace opening and then the premiére of an all-brown revue that took Broadway by storm. She became Madame Seely. Dr. Zelotes Jairus thought up that name for her. And then Mistuh Freddy was stung by the intellectual bee. It was the same bee that roams the hinterland in search of Iowa plowboys and Indiana stenographers, and brings them to Greenwich Village to be- come intellectuals. Once stung, the victim straightway loses all sense of former values. He discards the things he once cherished and takes up new fads. He reads nothing THE SATURDAY JIG TIME (Continued from Page 27 but highbrow literature. His one great fear is that he will do or say something that will cause people to remember that he once was what he was. This dread bee is no re- specter of color. It bit Mistuh Freddy, and bit him hard. And thereafter, Madame Seely had a hard row to travel. It was Mistuh Freddy’s idea that Big Edna quit warbling the blues and sing noth- ing but spirituals— American folk songs, he had learned to call them. Mistuh Freddy was proud. Like most of his race, he was a born mimic and, easily enough, he had broken through the thin veil that separates Subterrania from Harlem society. He had carefully acquired a certain air of insouci- ance and an accent that came from London. In the old days he had loved Big Edna's jig songs. But after the bee stung him, it mor- tified him greatly to hear her sing what he termed “vulgar, back-alley songs’’; espe- cially when she insisted on performing the sinuous movements of the Shorty George dance as she sat on the piano stool, her huge shoulders weaving, her big feet patting the floor loudly. “We is folks, Madame Seely,” he had told her time and again, “‘an’ who but us kin uphold the dignity of the People?”’ And Big Edna had tried. She loved the little man with all her heart. She was proud of him, and as a dutiful wife she tried to obey him. But the bee had not stung her. It was hard not to be natural. She hated the posing of Harlem. She loved the soft music of her People, the happy-go- lucky laughter, the wise-child idiosyncrasies and mannerisms. She tried to pattern her- self after the pattern he set as far as she could. But sometimes she fell far short, and at such times he was terribly mortified. More than once Big Edna had caught her- self wishing for the old days—days of ease and freedom in a cheap, slip-on dress, of hilarious nights in Mistuh Freddy’s Place. But she kept these wishes secret. The break came in the Little Africa Cabaret, a black-and-tan in Harlem. Dr. Zelotes Jairus was giving a dinner party. He was proud of his guests; proud they were his guests. Big names— Laura Eason-Jones; Mrs. Fredda Wyatt, who had written several books about the People; Pierre Antonin, the artist, with several of his friends from Greenwich Village; Samuel E. F. Lyon-Thommasson, a negro editor why is it that the People love hyphenated names among their famous?; F. Floyd Bender, a music critic, who a few years before had been Baldy-Pie Bender, Louis- ville dice hustler; a mixture of whites who sought out the erotic and bizarre in Harlem, and of blacks who led the list of big names in the negro world. These were Mistuh Freddy’s guests. He was proud. A sea of black and yellow faces, spotted here and there with a white one. A pale biond sipping gin with a mulatto vaudeville hoofer. Young intellectuals from the Vil- lage, bored to death. Visitors from the h nterland, shocked and very pleased about it. An orchestra playing a lazy melody on muted instruments. Everybody sober and orderly. It was early. The noise increased as the hours wore on. The Little Africa began to take on its nat- ural color. The orchestra began playing jig time. The Shorty George made its ap- pearance, with dozens of couples crammed in an open space between the tabies, weav- ing, wriggling in a dance of the jungles. A fetid breath of gin and cigarette smoke crept closely over the room. There was a strange, sweet scent—somebody smoking opium in Chandu cigarettes. Mistuh Freddy was speaking. ' “Me, I writes most of Madame Seely’s spirituals,” he was telling his guests, his lit- tle chest thrown out. “‘ Me, I likes classical music. Madame Seely sings nothin’ but the best.” He rambled on. Somebody in the crowd spotted Big Edna, and a clapping of hands, beginning moderately, soon drowned out EVENING POST the orchestra. They were calling for her now. They remembered her as the Madame Seely who sang jig songs. **Madame Seely ! Sing us some hot music, big gal! Stomp music, baby!” Big Edna rose, smiling. Mistuh Freddy rose also, and bowed with Big Edna. “Sing Suwanee River, baby,” he told her; “Suwanee River or something nice and genteel-like.”’ Big Edna waddled to the piano and the din quieted. The crowd sat back expect- | antly. But its spirits fell as Big Edna be- gan Suwanee River in her best parlor man- ner. She finished amid mild clapping and started back to her table. Mistuh Freddy was smiling. Big Edna had carried herself off well. A voice from the rear halted her as she neared the table. “Blues, yalla gal!”’ the loud voice yelled. “Us craves jig time!"’ The cry swept the cabaret: “ Blue music, yalla gal! Jig music! Mess up some real, bad blues, baby!” Big Edna hesitated and caught Mistuh | Arthur. Freddy's eyes. He glared at her and mo- | tioned her to her chair. She took a step for- | ward, then hesitated. Suddenly she grinned widely. She swung back to the piano. “Gives ‘em whut dey craves,” she mut- tered to herself. She glanced sideways and saw Dr. Zelotes Jairus nervously drumming the table with his fingers. She threw her head back and laughed as her fingers found the keys. “Big-headed nigger,” she thought. “I learns him. Me, I sings blues.”’ Mistuh Freddy could go straight to Hades. She was back in Memphis; back where a girl could be herself, where People loved good music. None of the high- sounding tripe Mistuh Freddy called spirit- uals. No hyphenated names. No putting on dog. Forgotten were Harlem's celebri- ties and her promise to be good. “Heah come ole furnace heat!" she shouted to the crowd, and broke into song. The words to the song do not matter. And then there is the censor to consider. The song was a blue tale of a trifling woman and a husband with a heavy heart. “Went up on de mount-ing, Looked down far as Ah could see; "Nother man had mah woman An’ ‘em dirty blues had me.’ **Ev’body Shorty Gawge wid Big Edna!” she shouted, and changed her song to a rol- licking tune negroes know as stomp music. “*Mamma, don’ you give all yo’ love away; Save a little bit fo’ a rainy day. I'm yo’ man; yo’ said enough, So shake yo'se'f, mamma; strut yo’ stuff.”’ The music was short and jerky, and in the breaks a thousand feet stamped the floor in unison. Stomp music. Dr. Zelotes Jairus sat staring at his wife, his little face drawn with pain. “Done disgrafed us bofe,”” he groaned aloud. Had he looked under the table he would have seen the feet of his celebrity guests stomping with the music. But he only knew that his newly found dignity was com- promised. “*Shorty Gawge’ yo'se'f, yalla gal!” somebody yelled. The cry was taken up by the crowd: “Rock yo’se’f, baby! Shake and shiver!” Big Edna’s body stiffened, her left foot started beating a loud staccato. Her shoul- ders bent low over the piano and began to weave. Big Edna finished triumphantly. Ignor- ing the thundering applause, she approached the table and looked for Freddy. His chair was empty. ‘“*He taken sick,”’ somebody explained. Big Edna smiled ruefully. Already her brain was filling with plans to appease Mis- tuh Freddy’s just anger. But at home she found a note. It read: Rig Fat Slob I Used to Call My Own: We is quits. I never did like fat meat. FrReppy. i93 “Neat Hair Makes You Look a Winner —and looking a winner is the first step to being one,” says the snappy George K “For that reason you'll find me among the users of ‘Hair Groom.’ It keeps my hair gentlemanly without a greased appearance.” A little “Hair Groom” each morning will | keep your hair combed al! day in any style | you like. Thousands of men in every walk in life use it regularly, especially after shampooing. Mothers find it fine for train ing boys’ hair. “Hair Groom” comes in two forms-—cream and liquid. If your druggist cannot supply you, send 50c in stamps or money order to Wyeth Chemical Co. Inc., 578 Madison Ave., New York City. A sample of Liquid Hair Groom is free. Clip coupon. S18 Madison Ave. New Yok car F REE Mail me free sample Liquid Hair Groom. Name Address City Mate DELICIOUS DISHES WARMS BABY’S MILK— Quickly ... Anywhere! “CUCH a handy little stove,” say women everywhere. It gwickly boils, broils and fries everything from eggs to steaks. Makes scores of tempting dishes, too Makes delicious toast —! heats boils coffee water for shaving heats curling irons, pressing irons —warms baby’s milk —makes candy. Good for hundreds of uses. Sterno Stove folds flat, compact. Use at home, in hotels, at the office, school, on trips. Fine for camping — cooks hot meals on the trail. Sterno Canned Heat provides fuel. It's safe. Burns solid. No smoke, sparks, cinders. See full line Sterno Utensils at local dealer And send 10¢ TODAY for Introductory Sterno Cook Stove and new STERNO COOK BOOK! Dept. S-6, Sterno Corp. (Est. 1887), 9 East 37th St., New York City. MAIL NOW! Sterno Corp., Dept. S4 ST ERNO oF wth St. GANNED HEAT New York, N.Y Gentlemen: lenclose 10¢ for Special : ———— “y Sterno Stove and new Cook Book. Pesane seus || j ' 7 2 + atlZ\, 4 Licensed by U. S. Gov't for use only as fuel

Page 194

THE SATURDAY CAMPFIRE MARSHMALLOWS in the new handy 1-pound family package COST NO MORE... | | | Camprme Srrawserry Deticut Satap. Cut three slices pineapple in cubes and skin and slice two oranges. Wash and hull one pint strawberries, reserving six whole berries for garnish. Cut remaining berries in half and sprinkle with powdered sugar to sweeten. Combine with pineapple, oranges and berries and arrange on lettuce. Add 24 Campfires cut in pieces, and serve with whipped cream. ‘THEIR ORIGINAL FRAGRANT FRESHNESS GUARANTEED Break the seals on the new Campfire rb. | Family Package. You will find within sixty snow-white Campfire marshmallows, fresh, fragrant, delicate. . . . Taste a marshmallow from this package—a new delight in flavor, a new experience in melting goodness! Until this new package was designed by Campfire, few people knew the true flavor of marshmallows, because few had ever eaten fresh marshmallows. Now Campfire marshmallows are guaranteed to come to you as fresh as the moment they left our kitchens. Because of a special process of packaging and wrapping, no air or moisture can get in to the marshmallows in this new package. The famous Campfire quality and flavor reach you in full measure. Yet the price today is the low- | est on record. Get them from your grocer, druggist or confectioner. For fresh flavors and new ideas for your menus, send us roc for the new Campfire recipe booklet. It was written by a cookery expert. The Campfire Corporation,Cambridge, Mass.; Chicago, Ill.; Los Angeles, Calif.; Montreal, Canada. | Five ounces of Campfires—10c Here's the sweetest little package of Campfires | you ever saw—the Campfire Handy Package. It's brand new. Just the size to tuck in your | pocket, or the corner of the market basket. It has all the exclusive features of the larger Family | Package . . . every marshmallow is guaranteed | delicately, fragrantly fresh. | EVENING POST For a long time Big Edna sat listlessly, gazing at the note. She pinched her big, fat arms. “Fat meat,”’ she muttered. “‘He don’ lak fat meat no mo’.” And then she threw herself down to cry, as women will when men go away, no mat- ter what their race or creed or color. A big yellow woman alighted from an up- North train that had puffed its way into the big station in Memphis. “Ah wants a taxicab,” she told a red-cap wearily, ‘“‘an’ Ah wants to drive ovah th’ rivah to Arkansaw. Git goin’.” At the edge of the bridge that crosses the Big River she called to the driver to stop. Without a word she alighted, handed the driver a ten-dollar bill and started across the bridge. Unmindful of his curious stare, Big Edna waddled off, the bridge boards creaking under her heavy tread. She carried herself painfully, awkwardly. In the center of the bridge she stopped and leaned over the wooden railing. A hun- dred feet below, a dark-silver giant crept along, snakily, ominously, noiselessly. A great Southern moon threw its brilliance on the wriggling mass of silver water. And to Big Edna the Big River was sing- ing one of the jig songs that it, years before, had taught old Pappy Blue Boy; silver rip- ples making jig music, soft and low and sadly played. A skiff carrying two negro fishermen out for a catch of catfish and buffalo swept la- zily under the bridge, drifting south with the current. They were singing: “Ole Pharioh, he got drown-ded, drown-ded, drown-ded. Ole Pharioh he got drown-ded In de Red, Red Sea.” Big Edna grunted approval. “‘’At jig sho kin sing,” she said aloud, and was startled at her own voice. “Steady, fat meat,” she told herself. She shuddered as she leaned over the railing and looked down at the dark mass of water. “Catfeesh, git ready,”’ she said loudly; “git ready fo’ a mess o’ fat meat.” She laughed and chanted, “ Mistuh Freddy don’ lak fat meat, but de catfeesh do,”’ but there was little mirth in her laugh- ter. She laughed again, shortly, bitterly. She ran her hand down her huge hip. “Fat meat! Catfeesh, git ready!” She leaned farther over the railing, thoughtful. The boards creaked under her weight. She remembered the cotton factor | who had jumped off the bridge from just about where she stood. And old Squire Donaldson, who, blind as a bat, had groped his way out on the bridge one night and jumped off, because he could not pay an election bet he had lost. She thought about the little white girl who had jumped off the bridge, holding her two babies— pretty little yellow-haired girl twins—in her arms. “Lots bettah folks ’n you has jump’ | offen dis bridge,” Big Edna told herself. | “Git ready, big yalla gal—ole fat meat.” She leaned farther over the railing and spoke again to the catfish: “‘Git ready, catfeesh.” She pulled off her hat and dropped it, watching it as it sailed slowly down to the wriggling silver mass below. “De cotton man, he do it,”” she muttered, | as though to steel herself, ‘“‘an’ ole Squire | Donaldson, an’ ’at li’l’ white gal wid de | two babies, an’—an’ —— ” Suddenly she straightened up. A gur- | gling noise started in her throat. It be- came a heavy rumble. She threw her head back and laughed—a deep, joyous laugh of pure mirth. May 25,1929 “Yeah, an’ po’ ole Come-Along Jones!” she gurgled, holding her sides. ‘Po’ ole Come-Along—he commit sooside too!” She doubled up with mirth, grasping the rail to keep from falling. She thought about poor old Come-Along, a one-legged nigger with a wooden leg and a broken heart. She had come out to this very bridge to watch Come-Along show the world just how badly his heart was broken. Come-Along had been shown the door by Sue, a wife with an earning capacity. He had promised he would kill himself to show how he felt about it. The entire neighborhood had moved to Hanrihan Bridge to see Come-Along com- mit suicide. Big Edna had been there. So had Mistuh Freddy. All of the street. It was on Sunday. Thousands in Sunday clothes had come out, lining the banks of the Big River, ‘swarming the bridge to see Come-Along make good. He had stumped out to the center of the bridge with his peg leg and mounted the rail- ing. Then, turning around to make a fare- well speech to his eager audience, he had spied Sue. She was with the big yellow negro who had wrecked his home. And she was laughing. It proved too much for Come-Along that home wrecker and Sue laughing. He cut his speech short and jumped at the home wrecker, rage in his heart, a knife in his hand. But, to balance himself while he made his speech, he had wedged the tip of his peg leg in a crack on the railing. The peg leg hung, and Come-Along went hurtling backward into the river. Big Edna shouted with mirth as she thought of it. “He hit de watah kersplash!”’ she said aloud. “‘An’ rat away he struck out fo’ de bank!” She doubled up again. “Clean reach’ de bank 'fo’ he found out he hed broke his othah laig!”” She stopped laugh- ing. “A one-laiged nigger with a broke heart an’ a broke peg laig,”” she muttered. ““Catfeesh, Ah guess us stays frien’s.”’ An hour later, foot-sore and weary, she entered the blind pig that had once been Mis- tuh Freddy’s place. The bartender greeted her heartily. “*Freddy’s been lookin’ fo’ you, Madame Seely,” he told her. “‘Seem lak ’at nigger’s "bout crazy wid worry.” She smiled grimly. She held whispered conference with the bartender. Furtively he handed her a small, white package. She turned to the group of loungers in the pig. “Me, Ah retires, gen’men,” she said— “Ah retires to vanish dese troubles. When Ah returns us has music.” She was back in a few seconds, eyes flash- ing, the weariness gone. She sat down at the old piano that leaned drunkenly against the wall. She sang: “T tore my hair, I got down on my knees. I tore my hair, I got down on my knees. I says to the gravedigger, ‘Won't you gimme back my good man, please?’ “The gravedigger looked—he looked me right in the eye. The gravedigger looked—he looked me right in the eye. He says, ‘Good lady, Yo’ man has said his last good-by.’”’ Big Edna threw her head back and laughed. She changed her tune: “ Mistuh Freddy is a good man, But he just won’t be-have. Mistuh Freddy is a good man, But he just won't be-have. Gits me a shotgun, Sends him to his fa-ial grave.” ea

Page 195

BUY GOLFING Burke Driver, True Temper shafted Note how vibrations caused by impact with ball decrease and are absorbed as they as- cend the shaft. Result: More “punch”—more distance “a , OE DI tees. Smetay THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Driver, shafted in ordinary steel Note how vibrations ascend shaft almost without any re- duction in intensity. Result: Less “punch”—less distance ~ } 195 AN ASTONISHING DISCOVERY THAT MEANS MORE PARS | tes hit a ball with all your might—and watch it “die” a brief hundred yards away? Remember how your hand stung after such a shot? The timing was wrong, the impact was inaccurate,—so your power went into vibration that traveled up the club shaft into your nervous system. And the ball went nowhere. Burke now announces the defeat of club vibration. In the new Burke True Temper shafts is a series of reduction offset rings. These definitely absorb vi- bration and enable your power to go to the ball, even on poorly timed or inaccurately hit strokes. After all, a golf club is simply a means for translating your eye accuracy and Golf your muscle power and control to the ball. These Burke Clubs, True 7 ma nue Temper shafted,—triumphs of club designing—do exactly that. They un- questionably give greater distance, more easily con- trolled. Whether you struggle around in high fig- ures or are a low eighty sharpshooter, you will find they will consistently improve your game. Your Pro or sporting goods store has these remark- able clubs in woods and irons. Once you test them from the practice tee, they are your friends for life. FREE ON REQUEST: A handy booklet, “Golf as She Ought to Be Played,” presenting in clear, easily- understood language the real rules of the game, sent on request. If you've ever waded through the con- fusing rule book, you'll give this new Burke book a hearty vote of thanks. Write for a copy. It's free. Have you tried the Burke Fifty-Fifty—S0c, and guar- anteed for 50 holes? It cuts the high cost of golfing For introductory purposes only we will send a trial carton of three balls for $1.00. This offer is good only until June 30, 1929. The Burke Golf Co., Newark, Ohio. Burke CLUBS - BAGS + BALLS TRIAL CARTON Only One Carton to an Inquirer BURKE GOLF CO. Dept. A4, Newark, Ohic ( ) I will ery the Fifey-Pifty Here's my dollar for « cartoo of three. ( ) Please send me, free, copy “Golf as She Ought to Be Played.”’ EQUIPMENT MADE BY MANUFACTURING SPECIALISTS

Page 196

196 , THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Botts and Wuts— Handmaids R ANSL ATING into stark reality the nebulous dream of the inventor, tieing to- 5 gether eel first vague model of his great idea, are the humble handmaids of mechanical science bolts, nuts and rivets. Since the golden days of “ Darius Green and his Flying Machine,” when every inventor had in his workshop a model of an airship or a per- petual motion machine, down to today’s reali- zation of some of the most improbable of the Ec Wa E» Nwrs BEEOurs,. inventor's dreams, bolts and nuts made by Rus sell, Burdsall and Ward have been an integral part of the mechanical history of this country. The reason is not hard to find—since 1845 these bolts and nuts have always been known as the best. Today the Empire New Process Bolt with its threads of gauge-like accuracy and its high tensile strength, and the Empire cold- punched steel nut are the recognized standards of the world. May 25, 1929 of Invention For sale by reliable jobbers and dealers. Samples for testing will be furnished manufacturers. RUSSELL, BURDSALL & WARD BOLT & NUT CO. PORT CHESTER, N. Y. ROCK FALLS, ILL. CORAOPOLIS, PA. Sales Offices: Philadelphia Chicago Detroit Los Angeles Seattle Portland ne San Francisco AND HRiwvkirs ip

Page 197

bedlam of Times Square, he had still cher- ished inviolate his ideal of the New England Sabbath. However hectic his career in New York, he had always comforted himself with the thought that in his native state of Massachusetts he could find, “far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,”’ an asylum for his declining years—Sabine Farm stuff. Nothing had so shaken his ostrichlike concept of modernity as this unexpected experience. As a pseudo Brahman he had always secretly condescended to the tinsel glitter of the metropolis; there was a God’s country elsewhere, albeit a slightly chilly one! Even Henry Adams was like that, and every man born within fifty miles of the Bulfinch Front of the Boston State House is a potential Henry Adams. The very fact that the Puritan was not a genu- ine Brahman—his mother had been apolo- getically born in South Boston—had given him a defense complex which made him all the more superior. How could he longer imitate the Adams tone of arrogant humil- ity which affected homespun before duch- esses and patronized Boston from Quincy? He had lost part of his stock in trade. This home of his ancestors—this peaceful New England village on that Sunday afternoon— was as like to the Atlantic City turnpike as two peas, and its denizens were listening in to the same sacred concert broadcast from WEAF. The universe had become standardized with a vengeance! Tran- quillity was an unknown commodity, unat- tainable this side of the Glassy Sea, where perhaps the seraphim and cherubim were even now casting down their golden harps in favor of a celestial radio. Nursing his distemper, the Puritan fol- lowed the procession of motors until, inad- vertently raising his eyes, he caught the gleam of a white fane above the elm tops. An old-fashioned meetinghouse! Could it be? He turned off the highway and stopped the car beside the little tree-covered knoll. He had found it—his grandfather's church! Unmindful of the hurly-burly of the square, it stood there calm and unperturbed; a white evangel, pointing the eternal way to heaven. From Stagecoach to Zeppelin The foliage splintered the sun’s last rays which dappled the old church with gold. The caw of « crow in the near-by branches belittled the honk of the motors beyond the turn. On the farther side of the knoll the ancient horse sheds still offered an unac- cepted and unnecessary hospitality. I climbed out of the car, walked across the young grass to the porch and entered. The inside was almost chill in contrast to the warmth of the afternoon outside, faintly sweet with the odor of dried timber; empty save for the shadowy presences evoked by the traditions of the past, who seemed to throng the aisles and fill the pews about me. My eyes ran over the long rows to the pul- pit where my grandfather had preached more than a hundred years ago, and the uncle for whom I had been named, from 1866 to 1872. Something gripped the Puri- tan in the throat. Good old church! For more than a cen- tury its clanging bell had summoned its congregation to Sunday worship or tolled for the passing of the village fathers—from the days of John Quincy Adams to those of Calvin Coolidge. What incredible changes it had witnessed: The transition from the stagecoach and the chaise to the railroad, the trolley, the motor car, the aeroplane, and the Zeppelin; from the sailing ship to the fifty-thousand-ton liner and the sub- marine; from the weekly post to the tele- graph, the telephone and the radio; from the daguerreotype and the camera obscura to the talking motion picture, color pho- tography and television; from the flintlock musket and smooth-bore cannon to mon- ster guns that could hur! shells forty miles THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PURITAN’S PROGRESS | (Continued from Page 13) and gas bullets that could be fired around corners; from the hand loom to the au- tomatic repairing machine for silk stock- ings! Suppose my grandfather should come back to the scene of his life’s labors and find himself face to face with all these things— what a bewildered old gentleman he would be! What would he think of yonder village square with its bizarre activities on this busy Sabbath afternoon? Wou'd he stride down there in his wrath and scourge the money changers from the portals of the temple? Lucky for him, perhaps, that he could not come back, and thus escape being committed to an observation ward— lucky at least that he had lived when he had, in an era when there was time to live! Seventeen Miles to Post a Letter As I sat in that old church a strange sensation-—such as in my childhood I had been wont to call “a life-and-death feel- ing”’—encompassed me. I felt not only a tremendous nearness to the past but as if I were actually touching the past. In that very pulpit my grandfather had faced his congregation. These very walls had echoed to his voice. His hand had swept the rail where mine now rested. And yet for all his nearness—a nearness that was almost con- tact—he was almost as mythical a person- age, as far as I was concerned, as Prester John or the Wandering Jew. I had more knowledge of Jenghiz Khan, Saint Paul, Peter the Hermit, Paul Jones or Captain Kidd. I knew little or nothing about him beyond the bare facts that he was the son of a farmer in Weston, had worked his way through Harvard College with the intention of becoming a lawyer, but, having “experi- enced religion,” had determined to study forthe ministry; and after having been grad- uated in 1805, had a few years later become pastor of the First Baptist Society in Fram- ingham. He had been born in 1783, two weeks be- fore the cessation of hostilities with Great Britain, six years before George Washing- ton became President, six before the storm- ing of the Bastille, and ten years before Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette had lost their heads upon the guillotine. He had lived through the period of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Era, was already twenty years old at the time of the Louisiana Purchase, had attained maturity before Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamil- ton, and had been graduated from college the year of Nelson’s Victory at Trafalgar and the Battle of Austerlitz. When he had entered Harvard in 1801 the United States had a population of less than a million adult males; the country, except for a few miles inland along the coast, was covered with forest, while the interior was still a wilderness. Coal was unknown as fuel in New England, the sul- phur match had not been invented, and he had lit his fire and his candles with flint and steel, the tinder being made from old shirts. Accounts were kept in pounds, shillings and pence, and French crowns, English guineas, Spanish milled dollars, half joes and pis- tareens still passed current. The currency was mixed, depreciated, mutilated by sweating, clipping and plugging, and varied in value in different localities. I still have his money scales, with their thin circular brass disks, like watch crystals, suspended by silken threads, with its accompanying tiny weights, all folding into a faded sha- green case not much larger than one now used for spectacles. In those days Timothy Sterns brought the mail on horseback once a week from Boston to Framingham. Often, if a man had an important letter destined for a distant point and requiring haste, he would walk the whole seventeen miles to Boston in order to post it there. There were no Indians aft in my grandfather's day, but there were plenty of men alive who had fought with them. Across the mountains to the west there | were but three wagon roads, and stage- coaches floundered along through bogs and forests at an average rate of four miles an | hour. It took twenty days for a letter to go | from Maine to Georgia, two days from | New York to Philadelphia, while postage was from six to twenty-five cents a written sheet, depending on the distance it was to be sent. Distances that can now be covered by motor in fifteen minutes were viewed ordinarily as prohibitive, so that members of the same families living but ten miles apart sometimes did not see one another oftener than once a year, and then usually at Thanksgiving. Food was scarce and the cattle, as well as their owners, shivered all winter in habi- tations ill adapted to keep out the cold. There was no sanitation, no soil pipes; no iron wheel plows, drills or potato diggers; no paint, carpets, curtains, pictures or or- naments. Practically all clothes, including shirts, socks and straw hats, were made at home. Everybody was poor. My grandfather’s life must have been in- credibly frugal. On leaving college he had first become preceptor of the village acad- emy in Framingham, being paid a shilling a week for the tuition of each pupil, with an extra allowance from the trustees of half a dollar a week toward his board. When he began to preach, his salary was fixed at two hundred dollars for the first year, and, although it was gradually in- creased during his many years of serv- ice, it never exceeded five hundred dollars and was no doubt, at least in the earlier days, paid partly in corn, beans and bacon. Yet he was unquestionably among the well-to-do, and in spite of his meager salary he managed to maintain a comfort- able home, send both his sons to college and give his three daughters a first-class education. He led an austere life, his clothes were often patched, his meals scanty, but he had his reward in the love and respect of his fellow men and the consciousness of being not only a theologian but a prac- tical and authoritative power for good in the community. Thrills of the Past Now, here I was, more than a hundred years later, sitting in the very church from whose pulpit he had preached and through whose elm-shaded precincts he had ‘‘ mus- ingly trod.” He had seen almost as many startling changes before he died in 1849 as the old church had witnessed since then. Certainly he must have thought that the climax of scientific ingenuity had been achieved when he heard that one could travel from New York to Albany in a boat propelled by steam. I could imagine how thrilled he must have been at seeing his first velocipede in a museum in 1816, his first gas light in 1822, his first coal fire; how excited on taking his first ride behind a locomotive a year or two later! But progress? Had I learned anything about that? It was growifig dark and I tiptoed out of the old church and crossed to where my car was standing. The stream of motors was still flowing by and I joined it, thinking of my grandfather’s life as compared with mine—of his early years of teaching school, living at the houses of his pupils and walk- | ing for miles each way in the rain and snow over roads that were little more than sloughs; of his cold, carpetless room, his scanty food, his patched clothes of home- spun, his lack of books, of any amusement in the modern sense of the word; then of the period during which he started out upon his ministry — the ascetic young clergy- man who had heard the call to labor in the vineyard and who, having answered it, had remained loyal to his flock until to the knell from his own spire he had been buried in the little graveyard beside the church to ¢ ~ FRENCH'S BIRD SEED is a scientific blend of the seeds that your eanary needs to keep him «singing, happy and healthy. Air-washed to free it from all harm- ful dust, dirt or chaff—then laboratory tested. And in every package there's a FREE French's Bird Biscuit for him to peck at. FRENCH’S BIRD SEED ic sold by reliable dealers everywhere—or an introductory full- size package will be sent postpaid on receipt of 15, and your dealer's name. THE RK. T. FRENCH COMPANY 18-92 Mustard Street Rochester, N.Y Send for—and read care- fully—our FREE book on the care of canaries —42 y pages, illustrated in colors. x Here’ sa New Fun-Ful Lawn Play Pool TT? Latest product of Hill-Standard just out this scason. Finer— more con venient—more durablic—beaatifally deco- rated. Quickly collapsible galvanized steel tube frame and waterproof canvas tank Easily filled with garden hose Steps and slides with handrails, especially de igned for this Pool. Give your children their own water sports, whether you live near water or inland includes Lawn Gymnasiums, Slides, Swings, vs, Musical Merry ritems, The highest et dangers, FUN Fl L. Lawn Play apparatus gives your chi ] ren ti I eed exercise ane for Free Home Yard Book let illustrating and des u newest, Most attractive, safest equipment for the Lawn Rings, Trapezes, Scesa Go-Round and many oth quality. Away from se health-building Hill-Standard ¢ th argest manufacturer of Playground and Swimming Pool Equipment { ad hip i pplying Park School Grounds, Recrea Grou ‘ be a Beaches. If interested it public playground project, ask for Catalog 10 tie Division “ with 0 year tutte mo INDIANA, U.S. HILL - STANDARD CO) Q.,

Page 198

BONDERIZED Fenders hold the Enamel and there- fore do not RUST. A .PARKER PRODUCT THE SATURDAY EVENING POST or steel HE use of enamel and lacquer on iron and steel is universal. Today manufacturers of automobiles, office furniture, refrigerators and other metal prod- ucts subject to hard service and corrosive conditions, find the problem ofa suitable pro- tective primer base of paramount importance. This primer base must be quick in applica- tion, low in cost, permanent and efficient. Bonderite is a chemical primer which fills all these requirements to a remarkable degree. It is a Parker product and like all Parker products it is the culmination of exhaustive laboratory and shop experience in solving definite rust-proofing and metal finishing problems. Bonderizing is accomplished by immersing the metal in a processing tank containing a solution of Bonderite powder and boiling water. The result is a quick conversion of the surface of the metal to a coating which is a part of the metal itself but unlike metal is sufficiently absorbent to insure permanent cohesion with the applied finish. Paints are intended to beautify and protect —ihe Bonderite primer coating gives stability to these outer coatings. The Bonderite coating is opaque, uniform in color and covering qualities, so that exact duplication of color effects is assured. Any manufacturer can equip to apply Bonder- izing by installing a processing tank of proper size to handle his production. It may be used by the large or small producer with equally good results and comparative economy. Send for your copy of “Bonderite and Enamel” and get complete story. PARKER RUST-PROOF COMPANY 2175 Milwaukee Ave. Detroit, Michigan ion for iron which he had dedicated his career. What would he think of me, his grandson, in my plus-fours and high-powered car motoring in one day—and on a Sunday!—from New York to Boston? Would he regard me as a waster, a sybarite and a Sabbath breaker? A doer of iniquity with my novels and stories? I remembered that one of my re- cent works had been banned in Boston. A good title, I reflected—Banned in Boston! I pressed the accelerator and my car, with a soft purr, leaped ahead toward the distant lights. The countryside was a | spider’s web of electricity, all its filaments converging toward Boston. And like a lu- minous spider I seemed to be sliding toward it down my own particular thread. Tri- umph of scientific ingenuity, that motor car! And yet it was nothing like as wonder- ful as a spider! Moreover, had it seen fit to stop I should probably have been help- less to make it go. I did not understand its machinery. I had merely bought it. I had accepted motors along with phono- graphs, airplanes and radios, just as I had accepted horse cars in my childhood. Some- body had invented them and they were convenient things to ride in. Most con- venient! And so were airplanes! We needed them. But perhaps we needed Puritans too. “Puritans?” As I pen the word there rises against the background of my mind a tall, sour-visaged individual, in a long cloak | and high cylindrical hat, with a blunder- buss over his shoulder and an apprehensive lady in a bonnet clinging to his arm, on his way to church. Obviously there are In- dians, or at least wolves, lurking hard by. The original of this cheerful picture was on a calendar I had as a child—probably a reproduction of some well-known painting. | For me Puritans will always be tall, wear cylindrical hats and carry blunderbusses; | they can never be short and fat, wearing | straw headgear and carrying fishing rods. This same gaunt specter stalks across the cartoons of our daily papers and before the footlights of our musical shows. We all know what a Puritan must have been like. The Trouble With History There used to be a woodcut of an arma- | dilloin my geography opposite theshort par- agraph devoted to Brazil. Today I am con- vinced that the swamps, pampas and forests of that country are alive with anteaters, with perhaps a few Indians peeping through giant banana leaves. And nothing will ever | obliterate that belief. I cannot efface it. I can only fight it, and in fighting it I give it new vitality. My imagination is stronger than my will, for being primarily located | in my subconscious brain, I cannot control | it. Hence for me the map of Brazil will | forever be spotted with armadillos, and an armadillo will always merge into a pink- and-yellow map of Brazil. One vivid pic- ture is worth a page of statistics in fostering an impression. Were I attempting to write history, which I am not, I would with one magnifi- cent gesture sweep away every generality regarding times and peoples penned by historianssince the Fall of Constantinople— and no doubt makea complete ass of myself in consequence; but this much, at least, I am willing to hazard—namely, that there is more of inaccuracy than of truth contained in all unqualified statements | and that it is more dangerous to generalize about periods and nations than about in- dividuals—which, heaven knows, is bad enough. Were the French at any period in history “a frivolous nation addicted to dancing | and light wines?” They were not. A more deadly serious nation never lived. Yet shall we ever outgrow that belief engendered in | us as children by our school geographies? Carry it further. Were even the inhabit- | ants merely of Paris, at any period, frivo- | lous and addicted to dancing and light | wines? They were not. Most of them drank wine rather than water, it is true, but the last thing they were addicted to was frivolity. Our well-meaning geographer, May 25,1929 with his recollection playing upon the court life of Versailles and his subconsciousness swarming with pictures of the French danc- ing masters and hairdressers of grand opera, imagines the entire forty millions of France pirouetting through the Palais Royal or capering around the Place Vendéme. And no doubt his unconsidered casual statement has cost the French nation bil- lions of franes and thousands of lives. Yet this is only another way of saying that until the rise of the common man—or the decline of the uncommon man—history was made by courts, kings, emperors and popes, and no one else mattered; just as today the same thing is more or less true of actors, politicians and prize fighters. The King of Swat is our hero, instead of Le Grand Monarch. The Garb oj the Simple We are apt to think of the events of a couple of centuries ago as almost obliter- ated by time, and of the people who took part in them as wholly different from our- selves, if not rather ridiculous. Our tend- ency is to belittle and even deride the intellectual equipment and opinions of those who have lived before, both because they did not know the extraordinary things with which we are familiar and because they wore such preposterous clothes. Anybody who wore wire bustles, hoop skirts, knee breeches or high boots must have been, we feel, more or less simple-minded. Passing over Socrates, Shakspere, Vol- taire, Sir Isaac Newton and others, it might be well to ask whether the past is really so distant after all. There are men still alive who have talked with survivors of the siege of Louisburg and the Battle of Ticonderoga, to say nothing of those who marched to Lexington and Concord and Bunker Hill a quarter century thereafter. According to the government reports for 1926 there were five mothers of soldiers who had fought for the Union during the Civil War still on the pension rolls, together with a number of widows of veterans of the war with England of 1812. Hands across the sea of time! Have not I myself talked with a lady whose husband was a friend of Louis XV, who died in 1774? I have—although at first this may seem unbelievable. Her hus- band, who was born in 1760, had been a page of Louis at Versailles, lived until 1850, and married for his second wife a comparatively young girl. When I knew her in 1895 she was just over sixty, hale and hearty, and it is quite possible that she is still alive. That brings Louis XV easily within the span of two lives, and anyone who is now ninety-five or over, and who, when a boy of seven or eight, talked with anyone as old as he himself is today, could easily have received first-hand information as to events which occurred shortly after the middle of the eighteenth century. The only reason that the survival of such per- sons is not brought more often to our atten- tion is, I suppose, that, although there would be quite a chorus if they could be got together, they are now so few and scattered and their voices so thin, high and quavering that they are not heard. Even more apparently surprising is the fact that my friend, Mr. Richard Hale, of Boston, once sat on the lap of a man who in turn had sat on the lap of a man who had attended the funeral of one of the pas- sengers on the Mayflower. In other words, a man living today has seen a man who saw another man who in his turn saw one of the Pilgrim Fathers—or more properly, perhaps, one of the Pilgrim children! Yet this on analysis proves no more astonishing than my own story. Peregrine White was born on the May- flower in Cape Cod Harbor, Massachusetts, November 20, 1620. Even if he cannot be rated strictly as a passenger, he was at least a stowaway. He was the first white child born in New England, and lived until 1704. The person who went to his funeral—the celebrated Deacon Cobb—born before 1700 (Continued on Page 200)

Page 199

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST FEDERAL had YOUR JOB in Mind... Thetruck equipment that meets per- fectly the demands of one hauling job may not prove satisfactory for another. The road builder obviously needs trucks of a type different from those used by a packing house. Between other hauling jobs the difference is not so marked but is just as important. Only when the truck is fitted to the work it is to do, can loads be hauled economically. EARNING ABILITY This is why Federal produces chassis of from one to seven and a half tons capacity — with four and six cylinder engines—with varying wheelbases — with single or dual wheels—with optional solid and pneumatic tire combinations. This is why Federal has erected a great new body and cab plarit. Somewhere in the resulting hundred and more body and chassis combina- tions there is a Federal truck scien- tifically fitted for the work your hauling problems entail. Nor is this a coincidence. The truck for your job is in the Federal line be- cause in 20 years of exclusive truck manufacture, Federal has learned t know your problems and has built a truck to meet them THE FEDERAL MOTOR TRU‘ CK CO DETROIT, MICHIGAN A FEDERAL TRUCKS Write for ‘ ‘The Federal System of Truck Operation Control’’ ;

Page 200

ROI RATOR The ONE BLADE Safety & BRITISH IMPORTATION UMMER time is right next deor—vacations, bathing, yachting, motoring, golf, and— Sunburn, making your face and chin so supersensitive to the slightest irritation. It is then that you will fully appreciate the clean, smooth, non- irritating shaves that a Rolls Razor will give you, and— Ne matter whether you go to the far corners of the globe, nor how long you stay away from the marts of men, the one hollow ground blade of your Rolls Razor will shave you perfectly every day. No more time, worry or money spent on packages of blades. The Rolls Razor is simplicity it- self—just the one safety blade and handle in compact metal plated case containing strop and hone. The blade, of finest Sheffield steel, is of the old straight razor type and hollow ground, with a safety guard of unique simplicity. Stropped in its case before shav- ing, honed in its case when nec- essary, the blade kept ever keen shaves flat to the face—net at right angles. It cuts the hairs like a bar- ber’s razor —does not hoe them out. Properly handled it will give a lifetime of perfect shaves. A toilet requisite that any man will take pride in possessing. The first cost may be slightly higher—but how many blades do you purchase every year? Imperial No. | Silver Plate $15.00 imperial No. 2 Nickel Plate $10.00 We recommend Imperial Rolls Shaving Soap in hygienic inde- structible bow! for a superior shave. Priced at $1.50 For Sale at the Better Shops Throughout the World Descriptive Folder sent ree on request There are a few excellent territories open for tocal representatives. Write for further perticulars. LEE & SCHIFFER, Inc. Dept. P.—11 East 44th St., New York City U.S. Distributors - + + 4 Not Just Another Safety Razor Actually Another Kind of Shave) THE SATURDAY Always the happy, clean-shaved Bill. I can thank my Rolls Razor for those EVENING POST (Continued from Page 198) and living until after 1800—was known as “The man who lived in three centuries.” Deacon Cobb, in 1804, took upon his knee William Thomas, later the great- uncle of Mr. Hale, saying to him: “ Re- member, my child, that you have sat upon the lap of a man who went to the funeral of aman who came over upon the Mayflower.” Mr. Thomas, who lived until about 1890, lifting in turn the youthful Richard upon his knee some sixty years later, enjoined him to remember that he had sat on the lap of one who had sat on the lap of a man who had gone to Peregrine White’s funeral. Two laps, so to speak, from Peregrine | White to Richard Hale! I trust the latter will, in the fullness of years, duly perform | a similar ceremony with some infant scion | of his family. No, the Puritans did not live so very long ago, after all. And unless there is, so to speak, a statute of limitations of some | sort applying to inheritance, a lot of us are Puritans yet. For at what point did a Puri- tan stop being a Puritan? When he aban- doned the blunderbuss for the flintlock musket, or the cylindrical hat for the squir- rel cap with ear tabs, or breeches for panta- loons, or the surtout for the Tuxedo? Or was it when he gave up singing through his nose and followed the bass viol? Or dipped furtively for the first time into Shakspere? Or went to the lodge of a Saturday night? Or stealthily bought a ticket to The Black Crook, or maybe, fifty years later, to Earl Carroll’s Vanities? What were the Puritans really like? To what extent did their religious doctrines actually affect their lives and those of their immediate descendants? How far was the common man “sober, righteousand godly’? And if so, how long did he stay that way? His Own Physician A friend of mine who lives in a small town in Maine recently unearthed in the hinterland of his attic a mildewed diary which had been kept by his great-uncles in the early part of the last century. That the town was a Puritan town seems to be estab- lished by the fact that, as late as 1880, my friend’s sister was refused membership in the local Presbyterian Church because she declined to give up dancing. Now this diary, kept by two boys of Puritan descent in a blue Puritan town, is written partly in cipher, and since the winter evenings are long and cold in that part of the country my friend amused himself in trying to de- code it—a not overdifficult task. The cryp- tic portions, when deciphered, shed an en- tirely new light upon so-called Puritan life in New England, especially the morals of the youth of that day, and from the record it might have been fairly inferred that Casanova would have found himself as much at home there as in Bologna or Milan. Yet this same town had tithing men until 1848! My grandfather was a leader in the temperance movement in the early days of the last century. At that time almost everybody drank hard liquor—gin, whisky, rum, brandy, cider—and almost every fam- ily had at least one drunkard in it. Cold and undernourishment were largely re- sponsible, but enhanced the quality of the results. Many of the clergy drank along with the rest. The drinking at baptisms, weddings and esp“cially funerals was a pub- lic scandal. One old pastor by no means shared my grandfather’s views on the subject of tem- perance, or rather, per.:a}., he differed from him as to its nature. During one of the early crusades Doctor ——— was visited by some of the young women of the neighbor- hood with a pledge. He read it over aloud: “«¢____ unless under the advice of my physician.” . . . Yes, I’ll sign it,” he agreed readily, “but I wish it clearly under- stood that I’m my own physician.” This worthy minister of the gospel visited the tavern regularly every morning for his toddy, which was served to him in an upper room. One very cold day he ceme in and May 25,1929 said: “Landlord, we'll have our toddy ex- tra hot and extra strong this morning.” The landlord brought the toddy with two glasses, hung around a minute, and as no invitation to drink was extended to him, withdrew. Later in the forenoon the old gentleman was picked up from the roadside by a passing Samaritan and carried home. Next morning he called at the tavern as usual. “Landlord!” he remarked. “What ailed yesterday’s toddy? Something was the matter.” The landlord grinned a little. “Well, doctor, you said, ‘We'll have our toddy extra hot and extra strong.’ I thought ‘we’ meant you and i, so I made double the usual quantity—and you drank it all!” “H’m! Yes!” ejaculated thedoctor. “In the future I shall be more careful in the use— h’m—the use of the personal pronoun.” It is more than possible that the early colonists kissed their wives on Sunday and probably did even more reprehensible things without suffering for it. The laws govern- ing the keeping of the Sabbath were un- doubtedly those which were given fullest effect and enjoyed the widest publicity. But even these, except in certain localities, unquestionably relaxed with the passing of the years, and in any event, those laws as they existed three hundred years ago prob- ably represented a creed rather than a code, as some of ours do today. The fact that there are laws upon our statute books does not, as we all know, mean that they are obeyed. One cannot judge a period of history by its laws. You have got to go deeper than that. What sort of picture of the United States will the historian of 2229 a.D. who forms his conclusions solely upon the Constitution and the Volstead Act conjure out of the past as to prohibition? I have little doubt that most peopie base whatever idea they have of the New England Sabbath on a few items that ceased to have any trace of valid- ity —if they ever had any at all—more than a century ago. I do not mean that the Puritan Sabbath was a myth, by any means. On the con- trary, if I may be permitted a single gener- ality, the one commandment beyond peradventure that the Puritans kept was the fourth, and they kept it very well. They kept some of the others also, but not with the same enthusiasm. I take it that the Sabbath was asort of penance. Even I was brought up like the old setter: “Rover! Don’t bark so loud! Don’t you know it’s Sunday?” All I do mean is that it was local and impermanent. It varied with individuals and might be even stricter in the city than in the country. Puritans and Not So Puritans There was doubtless as much difference in the keeping of Sunday in New England between 1738 and 1838, for instance, as be- tween 1838 and today—as much as there was at all times between the way it was kept in Boston and in Charleston. Indi- viduals differed as much then as today. By the time my grandfather went to col- lege in 1800 there had been a tremendous change in the general attitude from what had existed before the Revolution. Re- ligious people in those days claimed, just as they do now, that the war had demoral- ized everybody, and particularly the young. The treaty of peace with England had hardly been signed and the British were still here, when the delegates to the General Court of Massachusetts declared that the Sabbath was too long and demanded that it be cut from thirty-six to eighteen hours. And it was! What were the Puritans really like? Do not for a moment imagine that I am at- tempting to answer the question. All that can safely be said is that they were prob- ably, as a whole, not precisely what we suppose. There were Puritans and Puri- tans, just as there are now. Were they—leaving out of consideration a comparatively small body of the earlier cnet. sea

Page 201

elect—so very different from ourselves? Has what we call progress caused any essen- tial change between them and us? Should we not be rather slow in jumping to con- clusions, in allowing our minds to be domi- nated by impressions, in view of what we know of human nature? And what shall we say of progress? What essential change between my grandfather, his son and his grandson has it wrought? Without mak- ing the invidious inquiry as to which of the three was the best man, were they not fundamentally the same? Did the inven- tion of the sulphur match or the use of steam for locomotion during my grand- father’s lifetime create any real difference between him and my father? Or did the fact that he died without ever having seen a bathtub make him any the less serviceable to mankind than if he had soaked himself daily in the perfumed water of a porcelain swimming pool? Consider the bathtub for a moment. The first of these interesting contrivances to be built in America was, I am credibly in- formed, made of mahogany and lined with sheet lead, and exhibited by its proud owner at a Christmas party in Cincinnati in 1842. Next day it was denounced by the news- papers as a sybaritic luxury, and anathe- matized by the local medicos as a menace to health—as perhaps it was. In Philadel- phia, in 1843, an attempt was made to prohibit bathing between November first and March first by law; and in 1845, in Boston, the city fathers promulgated an ordinance declaring bathing unlawful ex- cept when prescribed by a physician—the original dry law with the identical excep- tion of today. In Virginia bathtubs were taxed thirty dollars a year and the first one to be installed in the White House was under President Fillmore in 1852. The Saturday-night bath was a universal in- stitution down to 1900—‘‘women and children first.” It is still the subject of jest. And there is a recorded instance of a purchaser of a tub ordered in August, who refused to take delivery of it in October on the ground that, time being of the essence of the contract, he no longer had any use for the article “since the bathing season was over.” Yet today in Berlin and Paris, German and French multimillionaires are installing bathrooms in their palaces at a cost of $25,000 each! I am informed, more- over, that we of the United States have a Bath Week or, possibly, a Take-a-Bath Week. Can progress be measured by hot- water piping and is the bathtub one of its milestones? And if so, have we progressed beyond the age of Caracalla? Has the boasted bathtub, that ‘emblem and sign manual of civilization, done much more than to decrease our powers of resistance? - A Small World, Getting Smaller The globe has shrunk to a mere nothing, like a globule of ditch water evaporating.on a lily pad in the sun. We listen in on San Francisco, Nauheim and Havana, we tele- phone over and cable under the Atlantic to London and Paris; the airplane zooms over the North Pole, while prehistoric dragons in the swamps of New Guinea raise their horny snouts in fear of a hitherto unknown death-dealing pterodactyl; the Arab whirls through the desert atop his autobus, his burnoose flying in the wind, covering the equivalent of a month’s cara- van trip by camel in a single day; we ride from Cairo to the Cape in Pullmans and motors de luxe; the Congo savage has his talking machine, and the Albanian ban- dit reads THE SATURDAY EVENING PosT and Ladies’ Home Journal. We are as at home in the Gobi as we are on Broadway. There are no more frontiers, no more waste places. But suppose by the end of the next decade we have extended our vision, hearing and even other senses so that they are unhin- dered by space. Suppose we can transport ourselves to the bottom of the sea or the center of the earth. Suppose we can overtake the light ray of the past and film a record of the history of the world from THE SATURDAY the days of Adam to the present. Or de- rive our sustenance from the air as prophe- sied by Wynewood Reed. What will it profit us? We shall only be able to loaf around lix. the gods and goddesses of a very dull Olympus, just as stupidly as they did. We have annihilated space and time, but in doing so, have we not extinguished all sense of mystery? There is no longer any- thing hidden behind the ranges, waiting for us. The everlasting whisper no longer sum- mons us to the “‘never-never land,” for there is none. We have gained the whole world, and the question is whether we are going to lose our own souls. The River That Shrank Do you recall, when you were a child, how the woodlot beyond the meadow seemed a vast forest in the shadows of which you were fearful of being lost? Now it is only a woodlot, and Tom Smith lives just across it. When I was a little boy visit- ing my uncle, he offered as a great treat, provided I was very, very good, to take me fishing. What preparations I went through! For days I dug strenuously for worms, bought hooks, cut poles— thought of nothing else. The morning came and, with my paraphernalia, I climbed up beside him into an old chaise drawn by an even o!der white horse and we started out at dawn. So impatient was I that it seemed as if we drove for hours into the country, until] at last we came to a deep, broad river, where all day long I fished up and down the banks while my guardian dozed under an elm tree. It was a great adventure, like search- ing for the source of the Zambesi, and in- volving for me almost as great a sense of hardship and danger. Twenty years later I was driving along the same road with my uncle, then a nonogenarian. “Where was that river where you took me fishing when I was a kid?”’ I asked him. We were at the moment crossing a cul- vert through which trickled a tiny brook so diminutive as to be hardly discernible amid the grass. There was a farmhouse within fifty yards, the city itself less than half a mile away. “There it is!” he said, pointing to the brook. “What? But it took hours to get to it! It was a great river, ten or fifteen miles away!” He smiled. “That. is your river. It took us about ten minutes to get here that day. Nothing is changed a particle since then, except yourself.” As a youth I used to go camping every year in Northern Maine. For days and weeks I would paddle with my guide down solitary hidden streams and silent forest lakes, through the heart of an almost track- less wilderness. Today those same rivers are lined with motor highways, and the scream of the motor horn has replaced the call of the blue jay and the laughter of the loon. We are growing up; everything is get- ting nearer. But do our discoveries, our familiarity with the hitherto inscrutable, our tearing aside of the veil, our progress in supplying our material needs, essentially better our condition? Does it do anything, after all, except to bring the end nearer in sight? We have eaten of the tree of know!l- edge, but do we know that we are naked? Does anybody really suppose that the multiplicity of bathtubs makes us a civilized nation, any more than their absence fifty years ago made us an uncivilized one? Are bathtubs important compared to railroads? Are railroads important compared to the development of electrical communication? How important will the radio be, compared to the next step in scientific progress—what- ever that may prove to be? Do we gain anything in civilization by being able to fly ‘rom place to place instead of by riding or walking? Suppose we could simply close our eyes and say “Timbuktu, please!"’ to find EVENING POST thousands x HOUSANDS are “below par,” nervous, unfit for sustained work, authorities now state, simply because they are under- weight. Are you one of these? Not ill—yet handicapped by the effects of underweight ? If so, build up A few added pounds makes a world of difference! New energy, calmer nerves, sounder sleep, a happier outlook on life. A way authorities advise To correct underweight conditions, a sim- ple and pleasant method is now indicated Horlick’s Malted Milk. You drink it at home whenever you desire . . . and espe- cially at bed time regularly. Thousands have found it beneficial. *Horlick's” is a complete food. It con- tains all the elements necessary to life. The fresh, full-cream cow's milk and choice malted grains from which “Hor- lick’s’’ is made, renew body cells . . re- create energy. The malt enzymes in “ Horlick’s” actu- ally aid in digestion: No overloading of the stomach. No burden on digestion. Build up while you sleep This ease of digestion makes “* Horlick’s” an ideal food to take when light nourish- ment is required at any time If taken hot, preferably before retiring, *‘Horlick’s” will help to induce the sound THE ORIGINAL 201 UNDERWEIGHT is handicapping Gain needed weight, new energy, vitality — this way sleep so essential in itself to “ building up.” Let us send you a generous sample to start with. Just mail coupon below- Or, buy a package today. Insist upon * Horlick’s,”” the — and genuine. It is economy to buy the best Prepared in a minute at home. Sold everywhere in hermetically sealed glass jars. Horlick’s, the original Maited Milk, is sold in both natural and chocolate flavors, in powder or tablet form FREE TRIAL PACKAGE Horrick’s MaLTep Mick Corr Dept. H-4, Racine, Wis Tear out and mail this coupon for sample pack age. Check flavor wanted For Speedy Miser, the improved method of mix ing a creamy Maited Milk im @ pticher or a glass, en close 4 cents in stamps for postage Speeds Mixer Natural Chocolate Name Address If you live in Canada, acdress 2155 Pius IX Ave., Montreal MALTED MILK HORLICK’S

Page 202

202 with PED-PLI PROCESS NOW you can have pliable, more flexible shoes, made with smooth, non-curling insoles, giving that feeling of lightness and freedom which is a comfort to any foot. Try one pair of FLORSHEIM Ped-Pli Process Shoes and you will want them permanently. Style M-346—Twelve Dollars Mlustration below shows construction An always smooth 3 No filling between treading surface. soles to become lumpy. 2 Innersole ofextra 4 Nocurling at the edges quality and flexibility. of the innersole. A Knife Ready for Anything at you're making a model aeroplane or opening a can of beans, you'll want a Remington Official Scout Knife. It's a boy's tool kit all in itself. The Remington Oficial Knife, R3333 Boy Scouts of America The big, sturdy blade is sharp. It’s hand-honed. The long screw- driver blade is designed for practical use. The patented can- opener won't slip and it cuts easily. You'll use the punch blade a dozen times a day for making holes or scraping. In, your workshop, on a hike, or in camp—you want a Rem- ington Official Scout Knife. Your dealer has it or can easily get it. Write for a descriptive circular. REMINGTON ARMS COMPANY, INC. Originators of Kleanbore A ti 25 Broadway New York City Remington, ~) 1929 R. A. Ca, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The FLORSHEIM SHOE ourselves instantly on the main square sur- rounded by snake charmers and dancers, would we be any more civilized than we are today? Had my poor old grandfather been | told that before his grandson would be | fifty years old men would transport them- selves by steam and gas combustion over the land, through the air and under the sea, communicate with one another at will throughout the globe, capture and record the tones of the human voice, and see through solids, he would have shuddered. The fate of Adam would be ours! Men would have become as gods— knowing good and evil! Aye, there’s the rub! Has all this enabled us to know good from evil, even if it has made us as gods? As gods? More than gods! What Hermes, Poseidon or even Zeus could do what we do? Why, Olympus was a broken-down car barn compared to the Grand Central Terminal in New York, a traveling circus beside one of our broadcasting stations! Forward or Back? Where has it got us? We have made headway against yellow fever, smallpox, diphtheria and diabetes; we have reduced infant mortality; in a word, we have dis- covered after much searching how to pro- long our useless lives; but, although we have become clairvoyant and can build ships a quarter of a mile long, have we made any real progress in the arts during the last hundred years? Is the world any richer in music, sculpture, painting, poetry or literature today than in 1829? We have enormously increased the comfort of living at the price of what threatens to be a steadily growing dependence upon material things. We have exchanged the bathtub for the unbribed soul. Have we gone for- ward or backward? Have we merely en- abled ourselves to get a little sooner to Paris in order to stuff our bellies at high- priced restaurants and increased the skill of the gastro-intestinal specialist we after- ward call in? Is all this tremendous cerebration to re- sult merely in a human race of bigger and better mechanical robots? Does it presage a hog wallow of materialism to be followed by aspiritual bankruptcy? Is art always to lag behind commerce and hydrosanitary en- gineering? Isthestock of the Puritans to be resolved into a breed of soulless demi-gods whose physical powers are limited only by the atmosphere about the earth—and per- haps not by that? Is this the answer—that all scientific progress is a purely superficial matter? That civilization at best is but a breeze ruffling the sea of mankind and leaving its depths unstirred? The common man, and the uncommon one as well, apart from his May 25,1929 comfort, is just where he was before. He does not bother his head about any of it. He concerns himself, as William James said, with his own house, his own affairs, his own ache and his own religion. The airplane and motor are just like any other facts in his existence, and he no more wonders about them than does the Arab herdsman. The Same Old Meetinghouse It makes little difference to us whether we telegraph or write letters, make use of flying machines or Shanks’ mare—we are still occupied for the most part in earn- ing a living. It is all the same whether we move at six, sixty or one hundred and twenty miles an hour. My world and your world is still the same size, quite large enough for our activities, even if the actual earth itself has lost much of its mystery. Our enjoyment of the achievements of science does not necessarily mean that we are any more materialistic than we were before, or that we shall become in the future less and less concerned with spiritual things. It may well be that it will have precisely the opposite effect. The human brain is limited in its capacity. The scientist finds equal absorption in the intricacies of a but- terfly’s wing and the problems of television. Either fill his mind. As the world has grown smaller owing to the enlargement of our faculties of commu- nication, it may well be that this will force us to a wider exploration of the spiritual universe. Science and religion are nearer today than ever before; the old distinctions between mind and matter no longer have validity. In the realm of physics every- thing has changed. Nobody any longer accepts Jacques Loeb’s mechanistic con- ception of the universe. To the Victorian scientist what we call matter was a definite thing subject to certain unalterable laws; now matter has been found to be more mysterious than mind—much more vague, and subject to laws much less certainly known. The scientist is ready to accept the possibility that if by huge magnifications and delicate measurements we can attain a physical perception of things undreamed of, we may by a similar spiritual perception gain knowledge now unsuspected which may harmonize both worlds. The old white meetinghouse still stands unperturbed upon its quiet knoll, its spire pointing toward the skies in token of man’s aspiration and his belief in the ultimate wisdom of the Great Inventor. Above the noise of the phonograph and the radio its bell still calls to prayer, the honk of the motor drowned by the sound of the organ and the hymn. While from the towers of Manhattan the pale shaft of the searchlight rakes the stars—for what? PROTO. FROM CHARLES PHELPS CUSHING Hell Gate Bridge from New York City

Page 203

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 203 D whieh Turns the Wheels of Industry OTORMEN step to their controllers—a city’s street car system swings into movement. A switch is thrown in a nearby dairy—milk is purified. A baker moves a small lever—great ovens bake our bread. Factory whistles blow. Hundreds of switches are thrown. Giant looms begin to weave; a myriad of machines fashion our automobiles; turn out our shoes; lumber for our homes and furniture. provide That is Electricity at work—the hand which turns the wheels of industry. The muscles and nerves of that hand are the miles of line equipment erected to bring electrical service to the consumer. Often these lines pass through main arteries or thickly populated districts where a pole of artistic design would be greatly appreciated. For this purpose, Union Metal developed a heavy duty Fluted Steel Pole of such strength that it carries satisfactorily not only distribution lines but also trolley span wires, traffic signals and ornamental lighting units where required. The fact that these Fluted Steel Poles have already been installed and approved in over thirty progressive cities* is an indication of how well beauty and utility have been combined. . We shall be glad to supply full information on the econo- i mies and artistic effects to be obtaimed from the use of —= Union Metal Fluted Steel Poles te business men, public utility or city officials. *Complete details of the installations in these cities will be supplied upon reqmest THE UNION METAL MANUFACTURING COMPANY General Offices and Factory, Canton, Ohio Sales Othces— New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Cleveland, Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Dallas, Acanta Distributes GENERAL ELECTRIC MERCHANDISE DISTRIBUTORS GRAYBAR ELECTRIC CO., INC Ofices in ali principai CANADIAN GENERAL ELEC TRIC co INTERNATIONAL GENERAL ELECTRIC COMPANY | | Gate Ge : Ww Artis oe — FLUTED STEEL PRODUCTS TAL I SION POLES

Page 204

| Union Paci THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 ~~ . i mee ae “Unka - timpie Wa -Wince Pock -ich’ (Bow! shaped canyon filled with red rocks standing up like men) BRYCE CANYON NATIONAL PARK ONG before white men discovered Bryce 4 Canyon, the Indians of Southern Utah looked upon it with awe and wonder. They called it Unka-timpie Wa-Wince Pock-ich— “howl shaped canyon filled with red rocks standing up like men.” That expression, though vivid, scarcely begins to describe it! Nowhere else in the world has Nature played so fantastically, so colorfully, with stone! The great side walls are fluted like giant cathedral organs. Other architectural rock- forms tower upward in vast spires and min- arets—marbly white and flaming pink. And high on painted pedestals stand human shapes, startlingiy real. Figures of Titans, of kings and queens! (nd yet, Bryce Canyon is only one of five great wonderplaces to be seen on this new Union Pacific tour. You see Zion Canyon, Cedar Breaks and Kaibab Forest as well — entirely different — no less thrilling! And, as a climax, the Grand Canyon itself, the most sublime chasm in the surface of the exclusive colossal, most earth! The trip requires only five days by motor-bus after leaving your Pullman at Cedar City, the gateway, with accommodations at handsome lodges. You can easily Cc. J. Collins, General Passenger Agent, Dept. 339 Union Pacific System, Omaha, Neb. | Please send me complete information, including coat, and booklet: Western Wonderlands (tells about all the West). Lam also interested in Zion-Bry ce Canyeon-Grand Canyon National Parks ) Hawaii Yellowstone ‘acific Northwest and Alask« 2 Colerado Escorted All-Expense Tours ) California Dude Ranches If student, state age and grade Name | Address include it in a two weeks’ vacation. You may go in- dependently or on an Escorted All - Expense Tour with interesting companions. The season is from June 1 to October 1. Send the coupon at once for richly illustrated booklets, and full details, including the low cost. LOW SUMMER FARES TO ALL THE WEST via Unton Pacifi THE OVERLAND ROUTE

Page 205

THE SATURDAY AVIATION’S THIRD DECADE (Continued from Page 19) 1919 USEFUL LOAD TOTAL WEIGHT UBEPUL PER CENT OF LoaD TOTAL WEIGHT 21,500 8,000 37.2 11,200 },785 33.8 ae 535 214 1929 USEFUL LOaD TOTAL WEIGHT USEFUL PER CENT OF LOAD TOTAL WEIGHT 42,300 21,800 51.5 20,000 11,700 58.5 10,000 4,000 40.0 5,200 2,630 50.5 2,470 925 37.4 The next decade will undoubtedly see advanced development along the lines in- dicated above. With the aid of the metal- lurgist, lighter, stronger metals will be produced and utilized. Further decreases in resistance obtained by eliminating external braces and by lessening other parasite nonlifting —resistance will be achieved. One interesting method of reducing resistance is suggested in the plan to provide land planes, as well as amphibians, with re- tractible landing gears which will fold into the general streamlined body of the plane when it is in flight. Slower landing speeds and more stable machines will also be pro- duced, reducing the possibility of accidents from nose dives and spins. The slotted wing represents only one of the methods by which aeronautical en- gineers hope to achieve slower landing speeds. Recent developments of the heli- copter idea offer great promise. True helicopters, with power-driven lifting screws, have risen from the ground and flown for short distances, but none has achieved the success of the autogyro. In the autogyro the fuselage is of normal type with small supporting wings and conven- tional tail surfaces. Above this fuselage is a windmill of low pitch whose plane is in- clined at a small angle to the relative wind. The windmill performs the work of the wings in a plane of conventional design. In flight it is rotated by the reaction of the plane itself to the air, and thus exercises the nec- essary lift. The autogyro can land at a re- markably low forward speed, due to the action of its wind vane. In its present stage of development the autogyro is, how- ever, not generally regarded as a long-range machine. To many its most interesting promise appears to lie in the fact that it can be developed into a safe and reliable plane for the private owner. Its possibilities as a common carrier have not been empha- sized thus far by designers. Power:-Plant Improvements Another experiment which seeks to as- sure high speed in the air, combined with low landing speed, depends on changes in the shape of the wing while the airplane is in flight. To accomplish this the swelling wing has been designed. A mechanism in the cockpit operated by the pilot permits him at will so to expand or contract the wing that it assumes the proper curve and thickness for swift flight at high altitudes or slow flight while landing. Further de- velopment of this idea may improve both the speed and the safety of the airplane. Summarized, then, the trend of struc- tural design is to reduce resistance by more efficient streamlining and the elimination of unnecessary strength factors; to de- crease weight by improvement in design and the use of lighter metals, and to pro- mote safety and reliability by develop- ment of the wing slot, the autogyro and the variable camber, or swelling wing. It is always possible that other principles, now unrecognized, may change present plans, but these developments represent the lines along which research is working to pro- duce more efficient airplanes within the next ten years. The airplane power plant, like the air- plane structure, has increased greatly in efficiency during the past decade and will be further improved during the next. Sig- nificant features of its development since 1919 are the increase in reliability and en- durance, and the wide adoption of the direct air-cooled radial type of motor. At the end of the World War a life between motor overhauls of fifty hours was consid- ered excellent. Today a life of 300 hours is | not unusual. The radial, direct, air-cooled engine is almost entirely a postwar devel- opment, although the first of its type was a contemporary of the original Wright | brothers’ water-cooled motor. The increase in reliability and endurance of a'rcraft power plants cannot be attributed to any single item and should not be ascribed solely to the adoption of the air- cooled radial type. Present-day water- coo'ed engines are equally as reliable as their air-cooled contemporaries and require over- hauling no oftener. Advancement in both types has been accomplished by the use of better materials, by efficient weight distri- bution, by increased knowledge of stresses, by more thorough understanding of thermo- dynamics, by improvements in accessories and installations and last, but not least, by better operating conditions. Decreasing Fire Hazard New valve and valve-seat materials have | been developed which, with improvements in design resulting in better cooling condi- tions, have greatly lengthened the life of these parts. New light alloys of greater | strength than those available at the close of the war have permitted the strengthening of parts without added weight. Duralum- inum forgings have replaced steel forgings in some highly stressed parts and cast aluminum in crank cases with further weight reduction. Babbit-lined bronze bearings have given way to babbit-lined steel bear- ings of greater rigidity and much longer life. Major advances have been made also in increasing the reliability of ignition sys- tems. At the close of the war both battery and magneto ignition systems were in use, and neither was particularly reliable. The magneto has been developed to the point where failure is quite infrequent and the life of the breaker mechanism has been greatly extended. The battery system is now almost obsolete. Fuel, oil and water systems, sometimes referred to as the “plumbing” and often the cause of power-plant failures, have shared the general improvement. During the war a pressure fuel system was widely used. Its greatest disadvantage lay in the fact that it increased the fire hazard in the event of a crash, when the fuel was expelled rapidly from the tank. The air for the pressure system was in most cases obtained from small air pumps mounted on the en- gine. At the present time gear and piston fuel pumps are mounted directly on the engine, and fuel and oil piping have improved in their ability to resist the strains due to vi- bration—the cause of many forced land- ings. In the case of the direct air-cooled engine the water system is of course entirely eliminated; a feature which consti- tutes its greatest advantage over its water- cooled competitor. Much of the credit for increased reli- ability and endurance of aircraft power plants can be accorded the airplane de- signer and the operator. The designer, by increasing the range between stalling speed and high speed, has made it possib‘e for the operator to throttle his engines in flight well below their mzximum capacity. Re- duction in parasite resistance, combined with lighter power plants, has been an im- portant factor in the astounding perform- ance records established in recent years. Pilots have taken advantage of the op- portunities thus offered, and the great majority of engines are now being operated | EVENING POST 205 To improve your (same Pal ATH & Ba hc an Os a a OO © B.& B. 1929 wear a PAL You'll be more comfortable with an athletic supporter. Feel safer. Free from the instinctive fear of injuring delicate cords. Easy. Relaxed. Naturally your game will improve. Trained athletes wear supporters al- ways. Never even the lightest work- out without one. They know Nature left a crucial danger un- guarded. They know a sudden lunge may bring crippling injury. They know bodies are not as efiicient when vital parts are unguarded. Get a PAL today. Wear it for the lightest exercise. Even the daily dozen. PAL is better made than the usual supporter. It costs a little more because it's worth more. zone of It will outwear two or three of the ordinary all-elastic kind. Light, porous-knit, cool, com- fortable, it doesn't get stiff... doesn't chafe. At all drug stores . . . one dol- lar. (Price slightly bigher in Canada.) Bauer & Black A Division of the Kendall Co. CHICAGO NEW YORK TORONTO Also makers of the famous O=P#C For 40 years the leading suspensory for daily wear For Aa Low Cost $5,000 Participating THE MIDLAND MUTUAL LIFE INSURANCE CoO. Founded 1906 $100,000,000.00 Orv Line, Lecar Reserve, Parricipatinc LIFE INSURANCE s Ont Day Sixty Our Policies Include a Special Guaranteed Each year since 1920 dividend payments to policyholders have exceeded death claim payments. GENERAL AND SoLictrinGc AGENTS WANTED } Tae Mivptanp Murtuac Lire Insurance Co., Corumaus, O Wel é NOiv¢e . | I | Reque ts for } Without obligation, send n nformation regarding : . : 1] am ; | i Upiete Nave... 7 Infor mation | ADDRESss Se Columbus, Ohio Five Years £ Policy.

Page 206

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Ditto No. 2 model; copies any size Ditto makes copies direct from your original writing, Write for booklet,“Cutting Costs with Copies”; tells fully how Ditto will save money for your business Ditto Incorporated typing, or drawing —no stencil, type or carbon. Other Ditto Features 1. Copies five colors in one operation. 2. Copies on any size and weight of paper or card stock. 3. Your original may be written drawn with pen, pencil and type- writer. Manufacturers of Duplicating Machines and Supplies 2257 W. Harrison St., Chicago, TL MA RERSREREREREREREEREREERERERREERERE SESE) [LRERERREREREASE A coupon like this’ brought him’2.40 in a single hour! ~ OR a long time Paul Hauck of Nebraska ‘had been reading advertisements in The Post similar to this—and he knew that he could use some extra money just as well as the next fellow. He sent a coupon like the one above, made good money from the start —and just the other day told us that he had earned exactly $2.40 in an even hour's spare-time work. Here’s Your Opportunity You can begin as spon as the mails can de- liver our reply to your coupon above. s le! & The Curtis Publishing Company 2 - t : , . o aul Hauck a 316 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania a of Nebraska SS Please tell me all about your money-making plan. s i] « je Name 0 s Pease print name and address) al 5 os m” ig treet . . @ City .. a nk ee State a s sssss | And in our letter we will tell you how to start making money at once as our local sub- scription representative, forwarding new and renewal subscriptions for The Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home Journal and The Country Gentleman. | at 75 per cent or less of their highest possi- ble power. Only in exceptional cases has | the operator sacrificed this opportunity in order to gain increase in useful load, and in such cases the life between overhauls has been materially reduced. During the war, engines were in many cases operated at full power throughout the entire flight. It was the exception rather than the rule for pilots to throttle the engine after taking off. All improvements in material and design of aviation engines can be utilized either to | increase durability or to decrease specific weight. Largely, power-plant advance- | ment during the past ten years has been utilized to decrease engine weight. The famous Liberty motor, with a weight of slightly more than two pounds per horse power without water or radiator was typi- cal of the best wartime engines. Our present-day, direct, air-cooled radial engines weigh from 1'4 to 2 pounds per horse power, complete. No Perfect Engine Yet The trend of development has been very definitely toward the direct air-cooled en- gine, to eliminate the complication and weight of the water system. If, however, the development of the automobile is any indication of what to expect in aviation, complication in itself will be no deterrent so long as a useful end is accomplished. The choice between direct air cooling and indirect air cooling by the use of some in- termediate substance such as water will then be determined by ultimate perform- ance. A certain amount of power is re- quired in any internal-combustion engine to dissipate the heat from the cylinder walls. To keep this at a minimum value the heat-dissipating surface should be at the highest temperature and should be streamlined in shape. The direct air-cooled cylinder scores over the water system in the point of temperature, but is inferior in the matter of streamlining. Since the resistance of the cooling system is part of the parasite resistance of the plane, it has its greater effects at the higher speeds. Thus for high-speed planes the resistance of the cooling system becomes of more im- portance than the weight. Since the trend of development is toward higher speeds, it is quite possible that, unless the resistance offered by the air-cooled radial engine is materially reduced, the type will be super- seded by some newer development. Marked progress in reducing this resistance is now resulting from experimentation with cowl- ing, which forces the air stream over the cylinder walls while reducing the effective frontal area. Among the z2ir-cooled types of engine the ' static radial has received the greatest at- tention, due to the fact that it offers less difficulty than others in cylinder cooling and permits the best utilization of crank- shaft and crank-case material for min- imum weight. Its disadvantages are due to the facts that it offers high resistance to the air and decreases visibility when mounted in the nose of the fuselage. For these rea- sons the air-cooled V type and cylinders-in- line type are being developed. A significant trend of the present year is | the increased interest in the Diesel engine We will not assign you any definite terri- | tory, not ask you to work during any special hours of the day. You don’t need experience or one penny of capital. We are offering you this opportunity for immediate action. Why not take the next step and— Mail the Coupon Today! as an airplane power plant. The advantages of this type have long been realized, but little has been done to develop it for use in aviation. The chief problem is found in reduction of specific weight to compete with May 25,1929 the present type of engines, but indications are that this will be solved. High-speed Diesel engines have been characterized in the past by high cylinder pressures, necessitating heavy construction. Research work on combustion in the engines now sug- gests that the pressures can be held at values maintained in power plants used today. With the further refinement of power- plant design engineers now look forward to smaller cylinders and higher speeds. By adapting reduction gearing to the pro- peller a high degree of efficiency will be at- tained from such motors. It is probable that a weight of one-half pound per horse power will be thus achieved. Carburetors, too, are being improved, but manifolding must be developed to do away with abrupt turns and some method of heating the incoming charge to overcome its extreme wetness at high velocities must be utilized. Competition in the development of en- gines for use in aircraft has brought forth and continues to produce some laudable designs and some amazing inventions. In the majority of freak designs the inventors have ignored the facts that an internal- combustion engine for aeronautical use is primarily a heat member, and that the problems of carburetion, ignition, lubrica- tion and cooling must be developed to in- crease the adaptability, reliability and power-weight ratio of the proposed power plant. Some of the less familiar designs, such as the true rotary engine, may eventu- ally be perfected and become practical enough for everyday use. At the present time there is not an entirely satisfactory engine. The advancement in development since 1919 indicates, however, that a far more satisfactory instrument will be pro- duced within the present decade, making possible the establishment of new and startling records for endurance, pay-load capacity and safety. Adjustable Propeller Blades Along with improvements in design and power plants, marked progress has been made in propeller efficiency. As with the airplane structure,” metal is supplanting wood in air-screw production. Probably the most interesting feature of propeller development, however, is the progress made in methods of varying the pitch of the blades while in the air. The advantages of this system are obvious, assuring less strain on the motor during steady and prolonged flight, and reducing the length of landing runs. Hydraulic or other mechanisms oper- ating from the cockpit through the crank shaft now make it possible for the pilot to turn the blades to the desired position on their longitudinal axis. This idea will un- doubtedly be still more highly developed within the next decade, adding new safety and reliability factors to all heavier-than- air flight. It is on such lines that the mechanical progress of the airplane will proceed during the third decade of its practical operation. In that period aviation will undoubtedly confront the engineer with yet another problem—the development of types of air- craft construction and of machinery for fabrication that will permit mass construc- tion and its consequent reduction in costs. Consideration of the ultimate effect of such mass production on our social and in- dustrial development suggests yet another problem— but this will be one for the econ- omist rather than the engineer to solve.

Page 207

—— mt am - SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Arwarer Kent RADIO You can have an Atwater Kent in a cabinet UST as you suit your own tastes in the house you live in, the car you drive, the clothes you wear, the furnishings of your home—so now you can harmonize your radio with your own individuality. Do you like simplicity, compact- ness? Have it! Do you prefer a bit of elaboration in a period design ? Have it! Do you want your radio to blend with the appointments of your living room—or dining room—or a bed- room, perhaps? Suit yourself—at an Atwater Kent dealer’s. YOUR CHOICE OF FAMOUS CABINET MAKERS’ DESIGNS Great news. The best of American cabinet makers—famons for sound design and sincere workmanship are codperating to meet the world- wide demand for Atwater Kent ATWATER KENT MANUFACTURING COMPANY 4. Atwater Kent, President 4703 WISSAHICKON AVE., PHILADELPHIA, PA, just like your neighbor’s...or so different! Radio in the finest wood cabinets. You have the choice among the cre- ations of not Just one or two cabinet specialists, but of many. On the front of every Atwater Kent in a furniture cabinet you will find a name-plate showing that the radio was made by Atwater Kent. On the back you will find a name- plate showing that the cabinet was made by a famous furniture manu- facturer expressly for Atwater Kent Screen-Grid Radio. The price depends upon the cabi- net you choose. Whatever you pay, you may be sure you are getting the biggest value for yourdollar that you can find in the whole world of radio. And remember— The radio within the cabinet is the new Screén-Grid Atwater Kent, whose marvelous performance you can appreciate only by trying it in your own home. See it at the nearest Atwater Kent dealer’s—today hear it—have it! ScREEN-Grip RADIO 207 -GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . OlDVS GID-N3IIIS - OIDVS GIBO-NIZADS - OGVS GIO-NIIWIS - OIDVS GIBO-NIFZIDS - OIDVE GMO-NIIADS - OLDYY GIWO-NIIWS - ODVY GIWO"NIIWS - OGV GNO-N3IIWS - OIGVY GNO-NIZWS + SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO - SCREEN-GRID RADIO, - SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO . SCREEN-GRID RADIO ,

Page 208

208 “The Saratoga’ In Black or Tan Friendly to the Feet $ THE SATURDAY FRIENDLY FIVE SHOES > a — aT May men, accustomed to paying dearly for satisfactory shoes, are turning gratefully to Friendly Fives, finding them irreproach- Trade Mark ably styled . . . amazingly comfortable .. . and of unquestioned quality . .. The ut- most in shoe value ... at the modest price of five dollars . . . A very happy discovery ... Try them, sir! Jarman Shee Company, Manufacturers, Nashville, Tennessee William H. Parker of Massachusetts A FEW years ago, William H. Parker £% felt a need for extra dollars. He took up the kind of work we offer you here as a part-time proposition. Now he’s 73, and his subscription business is paying him good money all year around. Extra Money Many a retired business and pro- fessional man has found it equally To | EA § ey profitable to represent us in his spare time. And this offer is just as good for young folks! For Young or Old Men and women of all ages, with or without experience, earn up to $1.50 or more an hour representing our sub- scription interests in their own neigh- borhoods. Do you want to share in these profits? Then mail the coupon today ! _- THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 317 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania I should like to know about your spare-time openings. Vame Please Print Name Street City and Address) EVENING POST May 25, 1929 FAITH IN BONANZA (Continued from Page 9) an idea of it had survived, and that had to be broken down. Take two examples of the precept, one from Andrew Carnegie, whose career was in steel, and one from James J. Hill, the trans- | continental railroad builder—both men of daring and vision. Mr. Carnegie appeared at the conference of governors—this was in 1909—with a text near to Mr. Roosevelt’s heart —namely, the imminence of ironlessness. He said: “Let us begin with iron. We must in all possible ways lessen thedemands upon it, foritis with iron ore we are least adequately provided. One of the chief uses of this metal is con- nected with transportation, mainly by rail. Moving 1000 tons of heavy freight by rail requires an eighty-ton locomotive, and twenty-five twenty-ton steel cars, or 580 tons of iron and steel, with an average of say ten miles of double track with ninety- pound rails, or 317 tons additional; so that, including switches, frogs, fishplates, spikes and other incidentals, the carriage requires the use of an equal weight of metal. The same 1000 tons of freight may be moved by water by means of 100 to 250 tons of metal, so that the substitution of water carriage for rail carriage would | reduce the consumption of iron by three- quarters to seven-eighths in this depart- ment. At the same time the consumption of coal for motive power would be reduced 50 to 75 per cent, with a corresponding reduction in the coal required for smelting. No single step apen to us today would do more to check the drain on iron and coal than the substitution of water carriage for rail carriage wherever practicable, and the | careful adjustment of the one to the other throughout the country.” The Most Precious of All Resources Suppose we had substituted water trans- portation for railroad transportation on a | large scale, as suggested by Mr. Carnegie. | We might have saved some minerals, that is true; but as the movement of freight is much slower by water than by rail we should have retarded all the currents of commerce. That is to say, we should have conserved iron ore and coal in the ground at the expense of passing time. And to what end? For posterity? Here already is posterity. Would it be as well off if that kind of conservation had been practiced? One reason why, for all our shocking waste, we have been able to raise the standard of American living to the highest point in the history of the human race is that we have had a passion to save time. And in no one way have we saved more time than by speeding up transportation. This was a factor the old conservationists did not regard. They did not include time as a natural resource; though, if you think of it long enough, it will appear to be the | most precious resource of all, and irreplace- 4 able. Mr. Hill appeared at the same confer- ence of governors with a text on soil wastage, and said: ‘‘ We shall have about 130,000,- 000 people in 1925 and at least 200,000,000 by the middle of the century. Where are they to go, how are they to be employed, how fed, how enabled to earn a living wage? The pressure of all the nations upon the waste places of the earth grows more in- tense as the last of them are occupied. . . . There is still some room in Canada, but it will soon be filled. The relief will be but temporary. Our own people, whose min- eral resources will by that time have greatly diminished, must find themselves thrown back upon the soil for a living. Even the unintelligent are now coming to under- stand that we cannot look to our foreign trade for relief from future embarrass- ment. . Weshall have less and less of this agricultural wealth to part with as population increases. And as to enlarging greatly our sale of manufactured products in the world’s markets, it is mostly a dream. We cannot finally compete there, except in a few selected lines, without a material lowering of the wage scale at home and a change in the national standard of living, which our people are not willing to accept without a struggle. . . . It is time to set our house in order. Not only the economic but the political future is involved. No people ever felt the want of work or the pinch of poverty for a long time without reaching out violent hands against their political institutions, believing that they might find in a change some relief from their distress. . .. “ Our agricultural lands have been abused in two principal ways—first, by single crop- ping, and, second, by neglect of fertiliza- tion. It is fortunate for us that Nature is slow to anger, and that we may arrest the consequence of this ruinous policy before it is too late. In all parts of the United States, with only isolated exceptions, the system of tillage has been to select the crop which would bring in most money at the current market rate, to plant that year after year, and to move on to virgin fields as soon as the old farm rebelled by lowering the quantity and quality of its return... . What our people have to do is to cover less ground, cultivate smaller farms, so as to make the most of them instead of getting a scant, uncertain yield from several hun dred acres.” In the history of recent prophecy it would be impossible to find a worse ex- ample. Mr. Hill, like everyone else, under- estimated the force of progress in science and technology. The pressure on the soil for a food supply has net increased; it has diminished in an extraordinary manner. Each year relatively fewer people are needed in agriculture, as its methods and results are revolutionized by machine power and scientific knowledge. The new agricul- ture requires larger farms, not smaller ones. And as to foreign trade in manufac- tures, wherein he said we could not hope to compete because of high American wages, we have increased it so fast that our share in the world’s total now is paramount, and we have done this with wages all the time rising. We have been pursuing consciously a doctrine of high wages. Too Cheap to Save Yet these voices—that of Carnegie and that of Hill—were mighty in their day. Nor was there any to dispute them. The governors were tremendously impressed by what they said. Everything made sense, but it was an Old World sense that meant hoarding, limitation, safe living again, fear of want. Another weakness of the conservation movement twenty years ago was the idea that cheapness and waste were as cause and effect. The producers said it was so; the conservationists believed it. The lumber people could not afford to take the top third of a tree and cut it into narrow boards because the finest, widest boards were al- ready too cheap. The coal people could afford to work only the richest strata and were obliged to let all the rest go because the very best coal was too cheap. And so in everything. Cheapness was the curse. They all said the same thing. Raw ma- terials were so cheap that there was shock- ing waste in both the production and use of them. If prices were higher, then pro- ducers could afford to practice conservation and make a clean recovery of the natural resources; and, on the other hand, if prices were higher consumers would be less prodi- gal. Thus, a little dearness in place of ab- surd cheapness would automatically oblige conservation at both ends. But, assuming this to be a corrective, how were prices ever to be raised with everybody free to exploit natural resources in a competitive manner? Production was uncontrolled. That was the obvious cause of overproduction. Yet how could it be = ge ee - ee a ee ee ee ee

Page 209

pe pre oe ee ee ere ee ee ee em

controlled? Suppose the producers were permitted to combine in the name of con- servation for the purpose of regulating out- put. That would give them a power of monopoly. Could they be trusted not to exploit the consumer for private profit? Here was the impasse. Fear of monopoly had been deeply implanted in the national mind, and the only defense that anybody knew was to insist upon free, unlimited competition. No administration had ever been more zealous than Roosevelt’s to en- force the law forbidding restraint of produc- tion by agreement; yet here it was at the same time denouncing the waste that re- sulted from unrestrained production. There seemed no escape from this contradiction so long as the only use of monopoly that anybody could imagine was to squeeze the consumer by raising the price, nor so long as the fundamental notion of competition was that many could keep a few from be- coming too strong. The Rooseveltian conservationists were aware of the dilemma in which they were in- volved between, on one hand, a political doctrine they could not challenge—one, moreover, in which they believed—and, on the other hand, the waste of excessive production that resulted from competitive development of the natural resources. They had no solution. There was a vague notion among them that if they could create in- terest enough in conservation people would be willing to pay higher prices for raw materials; thus it might all happen by a kind of patriotic common consent. Risking a Dollar to Get a Dime President Roosevelt himself avoided di- rect collision with the subject of prices by speaking, instead, of shortage. He had to face what would be expected to happen if the wasteful cutting of timber were stopped. “That, of course,” he said, “makes a slight shortage at the moment. To avoid that slight shortage at the moment there are certain people so foolish that they will incur absolute shortage in the future.” He did not stop to inquire how the effects of a slight shortage at the moment should be assessed upon the consumers of lumber. Would the price of lumber rise? If so, how much? Or would the reduced supply be rationed out? If so, by whom? The matter had to be handled gently, else too much would be made of the fact that conservation meant making things dearer. John Hays Hammond, a very eminent engineer, contemplated the ex- tinction of the mining industry as inevitable in a short time; he believed, however, that a “‘greatly enhanced value”’ ior mineral products would prolong its life. And J. A. Holmes, of the United States Geological Survey, setting forth a rational basis for conservation, said: “‘The right to profit in the mining and subsequent use of our min- eral resources does not carry with it the right to destroy the birthright of genera- tions yet unborn in order that we of today may obtain more easily and more cheaply the products we need for present use. It is, therefore, reasonable to expect that the users of mineral products will pay for them such higher prices as will make profitable their mining and preparation without seri- ous waste.” It makes a kind of obvious sense to say people will waste what is cheap. But asa complete economic conclusion it is much too facile. There is a fallacy in it. What is cheapness? Those who exploit the natural resources are themselves involved in a contradiction. They say that, owing to the cheapness of such things as coal and oil and lumber, there is very little profit in vroducing them, and for that reason they cannot af- ford to make an efficient recovery. It is cheaper to gut a coal mine than to exhaust it properly; cheaper to tap a new oil pool, if one can be found, than to employ the tech- nology and capita] necessary to pump an old one dry. The oil people now are saying that if by a general restriction of output they could raise the price of crude only a

THE SATURDAY little, then it would be worth while so to improve the refining process as to get one- tenth more gasoline out of the oi! instead of letting it go for fuel under steam boilers in place of coal. This is reminiscent of the logie of the Irishman who was found putting a dollar bil! through a crack in the boardwalk. He had lost a dime through the same crack, but that was not loss enough to move him. If he sent a dollar after it, then he would be minded to take up the board and get his dime back. What remains always to be explained is an irrational fact. Notwithstanding the cheapness of the product and the littleness of the profit, still output and capacity go on expanding; so that no matter how fast demand increases, production runs ahead of it; and this excess production is the cause of cheapness. Crude materials al- ready so cheap that there is almost no profit from exploiting the forests, the mines and the oil pools; nevertheless, the in- centive to exploit them is so great that production increases faster than demand. How is this to be explained? And how can one suppose that to increase the price would have any other effect than to in- crease the incentive, with the result of greater production than before, and disas- trous cheapness again as supply overwhelms demand? Twenty years ago the National Conser- vation Commission wrote that although | the production of oil was at the moment excessive, nevertheless, in ten years the pools then known would be unable profit- ably to produce enough oil to meet the de- mand. At that time the Americar oil pro- duction was less than two hundred million | barrels a year and the price was seventy cents a barrel. During the war and for some time after, demand increased faster than supply, the price rose to three dollars a barrel, and the earth began to be searched for more oil. Then supply began to in- crease in a prodigious manner. Since 1921 it has more than doubled from new pools; again the production is for the moment excessive, and the price has fallen to two dollars a barrel. When, in 1909, the conservationists were so worried about coal and the way it was wasting because it was so cheap, there were only six thousand bituminous mines work- ing and the price of coal was a dollar a ton at the mine. As in oil, the demand for several years increased faster than the supply. The price of coal went to $3.75 a ten. With what result? The number of mines increased more than 3000, and now, with the price at two dollars a ton, there is a very large excess capacity. The Veivet in Coal Invariably a rise in price stimulates pro- duction. There is almost no evidence that higher prices improve the practice of pro- duction, nor is that likely ever to be the effect so long as there are virgin resources to be tapped. But a rise in price does of course bring in all the high-cost, inefficient producers. They are the marginal people. When prices are low they are obliged to quit; as prices rise they come into produc- tion again. High prices do, on the other side, oblige consumers to make better use of the prod- uct. The illustration is in coal. When it was a dollar a ton propaganda ‘or better utilization of its fuel and by-product values was largely wasted. The big consumer said coal was cheaper than stokers and tech- nology. It did not bother him that chem- ical products worth ten times as much as the raw coal were passing away in smoke, nor did it interest him that these by- products were pure gain because, after they had been saved, the fuel value of the coal remained. He did not care. He was not in the chemical business. Coal was too cheap. But as the price advanced he be- gan to listen and the practice of utilization improved very fast. But now observe that as the consumer at his end learns how to conserve coal the EVENING POST AIL ROOMY LIGHTWEIGHT WINDPROOF RAIN PRIDOF ICANT ! Majestic Quality REALLY Costs Less‘ THE MAJESTIC CO., 129 Erie St., Huntington, Ind. The Galt Stowe § Furnace Co., Lid, Galt, Ontario MAJESTIC UNDERGROUND GARBAGE RECEIVER AND BUILDIN© SPECIALTIES

OTHER MAJESTIC QUALITY PRODUCTS for the Home

Quality. vtilty aod goad design make this coal window a real value

li foundations have popularized this grade line Majestic coal chute yy bLvery home showkl have ~

| J this convenient milk and package reom ver + Write for fall infor- mation about any one or all of these Maje: stieQuality Prod- ucts for the home.

Page 210

Why drive a dirty car? wash it without water in a jiffy OW you can keep your car clean and shiny always. Sim- ply take a KozaK cloth, wipe off all the dirt, dust and mud in a jiffy. Try it for cleaning floors, windows and furniture, too. KoZAK is specially woven and treated—keeps cars clean for over a million people every time it rains. Each KozaK cloth will give you at least 25 thorough dry- washings .. . saves you $50 on a $1 investment. Obtainable almost anywhere from the larger automobile agencies, Rexall and Liggett Drug Stores, and every Colonial (green pump) Gasoline Station in New York and New England. KozaK, Inc., 196 Park Place, Batavia, N. Y. Most Important Radiogram— Teach your children, your grandchildren, and neighbor's children to always walk on the wrong side of the road. Facing ap- proaching cars is safest both day and night. City children espectally must be taught this life-saving rule. KOZAK The dry Wash cloth (aT SIT ON A BREEZE Ready for Hot Weather? Discover the new, airier way to enjoy motoring. Sit on a KOOL KOOSHION, It's porous, ventilated and perspiration preventing. Ideal for car, office, home, camping, touring. At your dealer's. Or we'll send direct. State size and color. Prices: 16” Back: Tan, $2.75; Fancy, $3.C0 20” Back: / Tan, $3.25; Fancy, $3.50 é Kool Kooshion Mia. Ca. . Oklahoma City, U.S.A. 4o0l ROOSHIOg pb ne: Arlac Dry Stencils Acclaimed By Users Arlac—the better dry stencil which cuts sharper lines— gives better typewritten copies and clear cut art reproduc- Bons, “O's” and “e's” keep B theircenters Durable for long runs. Send for a free sample. Arlac Dry Stencil Corp'n | 434 Fou rth Ave Pittsburgh, Pa j Picase send stencil to fit : catia sine dus ‘cator ‘Name —— | is in the motor-car industry. | first, that the motor car is relatively the | cheapest thing in the world. THE SATURDAY producer begins to worry. The less fuel value people waste, the less coal they will buy. The coal industry at the present time is suffering, or thinks it is, from three causes—namely, first, overdevelopment of mine capacity; second, the competition of fuel oil; and third, that the big consumers of coal make a ton of it go much further— meaning that a locomotive does more work per ton of coal, the public-utility com- panies produce more electricity per ton of coal, and so on. To the coal producers this may appear a vicious circle. A price high enough to make them happy is defeated by an uncontrol- lable increase of production, and at the same time demand declines, both rela- tively and actually, as consumers make better use of coal or substitute oil. On the other hand, a price low enough to limit production leaves a profit only for the big, efficient producers who can afford to im- prove their technology and so reduce their costs. The oil people are in a somewhat similar dilemma. Any rise in prices tends to increase production and at the same time to send people back to coal as fuel; a considerable rise might cause the auto- motive people to redesign their engines and double the motor car’s mileage per gallon of gasoline. That would be con- servation in sound character; yet, if it should happen suddenly, it would be ruin- ous to the oil industry. But is it a vicious circle? Suppose it were the point of view that was vicious. Given the conditions under which the pro- duction of foodstuffs, raw materials and manufactures all three may at any mo- ment be enormously increased—then what will determine prices? Demand will do that. The price, that is to say, will be determined by forces over which the pro- ducer has very little control, if actually any. Well, then, if he looks to the price for his profit he will be leaving it to external circumstances. But if he accepts the price to begin with, and then for his profit looks to his costs, his case will be different. He can control his costs. And until he has ex- hausted the possibilities of increasing his margin of profit by reducing his costs he need not mind the price. Demand Up and Prices Down This is a principle now acting at the cen- ter of industry. There the method of mass production has made the output indefinitely expansible, and mass production, therefore, has two necessities. From its nature it has the internal necessity to increase the out- | put progressively. It follows that progres- sive consumption is an external necessity. No mass production without mass con- sumption. In that case it is demand that determines price. The price must be one that will permit demand to expand con- tinuously. A price that hinders demand | is wrong in principle, and there is nothing else to be said about it. The highest illustration of the principle Consider, It is cheap not because it exists in natural plenty, like timber, coal and oil; it is cheap because cost reduction has been the motor indus- try’s ruling passion. Instead of calculating first the cost of making an automobile and then naming a price for it by a cost-plus- profit rule, it has accepted, first, any price that was necessary to move each year a greater product, and has undertaken, then, within that price to find its profit by reduc- ing costs. And how has it reduced costs? By the scientific conservation of time, en- ergy and materials. There is no profit in a motor car as such. You might produce a very good car and go bankrupt with it. Many have had that experience. The profit is in making a very good car at a very low cost. Hence the present way of saying the profit is in the cost. Profit, therefore, is not the natural reward of production. There is no such thing as a natural profit, no such thing as a natural or feudal right to profit, as from EVENING POST the possession of land or tools or capital or | the preémption of natural resources. Profit in this scheme is a direct function of efficiency. Such a truth is hard to learn. It crosses the human idea that effort and industry are in their own right entitled to reward; and so they were as long as the world’s anxiety was how to produce enough and there was no such phenomenon as surplus. It crosses also very deeply the pioneer American tra- dition that every individual shall have free access to the country’s natural resources, including land, water holes ard power sites, and is entitled to a profit from having dis- covered, developed and preémpted them. Manufacturing industry had no such tradi- tion. Therefore, it came more easily to embrace the fact that in the modern case profit is a function of efficiency. ‘ A Profit if You Make It In mining, lumbering and farming the pioneer tradition has survived. That is why the producers of coal and oil and lum- ber make a sound so much like that of farmers. The farmer thinks there ought to | be a profit in wheat as wheat, simply be- cause he has exerted himself to grow it. If there isn’t, he denounces the price. So the | others seem to think there ought to be a profit in coal as coal, in oil as oil, in lumber as such, and, like the farmer, look for their profit to the price—price of product and price of land. The analogies are very interesting. Agri- culture is anything from a little hill-top farm that barely sustains one inefficient farmer and his family to a highly developed operation in the hands of a man who under- stands, besides husbandry, such things as the use of machine power, cost accounting, | chemistry, biology-and scientific manage- ment. The bushel of corn is in both cases alike. The coal industry is anything from a wagon mine on the outcrop, worked by three or four men who barely make wages, to one that has millions invested in power | and machine equipment. Lumber is any- thing from a man with a solitary portable | saw rig to an operation that involves engi- neering, town building, private railways and maybe fifty millions of capital. The products are all alike, ton for ton, board for board; the difference is in the cost. One | economic curse is horizontal upon mining, lumbering and farming. It is the curse of the small irresponsible producer, called the marginal man, who is always much more | numerous than the efficient producer. And then again, just as the farmer is con- tinually talking of agriculture as a whole and saying there is no profit in it, so do the coal and oil and lumber people speak of their industries each as a whole and prove in the same way that on the capital invested the profit is ridiculous or nil. Yet there is profit making in any of them, and a great deal of it. It is not in the product as such; it is in the cost. The oil people prove that at the present price of oil there is no profit in it, taking the industry as a whole and dividing its capi- talization into its net income. Figures have recently been made to show—accu- rately, no doubt —that in the great Seminole field from its discovery to date expenditures have exceeded income. That is to say, the cost of the ground—the development of it, drilling, pumping, and so forth—has been some millions more than the producers’ total income from the sales of oil. That may be true of any field, and almost cer- tainly of a new one. Los Angeles made that discovery a few years ago and won- dered greatly at seeming to grow rich from putting more money into the ground than was taken out of it. Nevertheless, oil stocks rise, dividends are paid and capital continues to go into the business. There is profit for profit makers and loss for loss makers, and that is all there is to it. With the oil industry as a whole showing very little profit, the forty-four leading oil companies have reported for the year 1928 | an aggregate net income nearly $200,000,000 (Continued on Page 212) May 25, 1929 ONEY and PRIZES For Mary Ellen —And For You! OPULAR Mary Ellen Barbour, oe earns her own money for expenses and a goodtimes fund. A single hour of spare time spent in introducing The Saturday Evening | Post, The Ladies’ Home Journal and The Country Gentleman to her friends brought her almost $1.00. And she is proud to wear the blue- and-gold honor pin that she won for her continued good work. Many other girls and women are | earning shining dollars for their purses in this interesting way. They find it is just as pleasant as it is easy. Mary Carolyn Hurst earned $58.00 in a few | months; Eleanor Brown tucked away $5.00 in a single day! Besides the money you may win such charming and useful prizes as Sports Watches Handy Cameras Gay Waterballs Middy Blouses Banjo Ukes Tennis Rackets Come and earn too! Simply take your pencil and fill in the coupon below, and all the details of our plan will be sent you. You'll be so surprised . and delighted, that you'll be eager to start! It won’t cost you a cent and you'll be under no obligations. THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 318 Independence Square Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Please tell me how I can earn money and prizes. Name Age (Please Print Name and Address Street ii sta sicahatedatienisinnties SE eget eee et aE ects.

Page 211

— ee — ——t- EP ee em THE SATURDAY EVENING POST He Moeanulactures Weather vey Ge the comfort and health of people _..Jor hea pro it O industry (JGnziie the thermometer may climb to the humid nineties — yet indoors it can be cool and dry. In winter or summer, Willis H. Carrier gives to the world in Manufactured Weather the combination of temperature and humidity exactly suited to many industries and to the health and comfort of people. Manufactured Weather is the Carrier name for scientific Air Conditioning by which the air is washed clean of outdoor impurities, cooled or heated and humidity added or removed as the season requires. This Conditioned Air is dis- tributed uniformly within the controlled space. The House of Representatives in the Capitol at Washington was maintained at a constant temperature by a Carrier System all last winter. During the enervating heat of summer there will be no more comfortable spot in all Washington than the House. The temperature and the hu- midity of this great windowless room are so regu- lated that the air is as pure and healthful as that rarest of all weather conditions, an absolutely perfect day outdoors. Theatres throughout the world—ranging from Roxy’s, in New York, witha capacity of 6,200, to neighborhood houses seating less than a thousand persons—are now cooled with pure, cleansed air, temperature and humidity automatically regu- lated by Carrier systems. Theatre after theatre has seen certain failure turned into brilliant suc- cess when a falling off in summer attendance was checked by the installation of a Carrier System of Air Conditioning, and the public flocked to its cool, healthful comfort. WILLIS H. CARRIER t was he who found the way to take humidity out of Summer air where it is mot wanted and to put humidity into Winter air where it is needed. He creates the climate of Arizona in Maine—or the climate of Maine in Arizona. He even creates climates which do not prevail anywhere in nature He designed, developed and applied the instruments and equipment which today create and control automatically any desired condition of tempera ture, humidity and air movement within buildings regardless of the season of the year or the weather outdoors. The thing is being done now in thou sands of public and private buildings and factories. It is not a dream is a dream come true products, rayon, tobacco, pharmaceuti cals, textiles, confectionery, ceramics, printing and lithography, paper and many other industries. Often the entire cost of Manufactured Weather is paid for by increase in production and re duced costs the first year. Theatres and hotels may measure in dollars and cents their increase in atten- dance and patronage through Manufac tured Weather. Intangible but of incal culable commercial value is the heightened efficiency and morale of employees when they work under scientifically controlled atmospheric conditions winter and summer. The temperature and humidity re quirements of different industries vary It widely. There are always new problems. Through the successful solution of these More than two hundred industries have proved the versatility and value of Manufactured Weather. Where Bromo-Seltzer is made it keeps the effervescent granules dry and free-flowing. With Camels and other tobacco. products, it functions to prevent the tobacco from becoming too moist or too dry —brings it to and holds it at the moisture content exactly ‘suited to the re quirements of modern, high speed manufacturing and packing processes. Manufactured Weather plays its part for com fort and health in office buildings, department stores and hotels, in the manufacture of food TL RAR problems Willis H. Carrier and his associ ates have advanced the science of air condition ing to its present place of importance Where Carrier Systems are operating thev are making industries independent of outdoor weather and seasons — they make “ Every day a good day.” r ry r SOME NOTABLE USERS OF CARRIER SYSTEMS Schrafft’s Chocolate Gillette Razor New York Trust Company Cheney Silks Crown Ray n Postum Cereals Kodak Wrigley’s Gum and many others CARRIER ENGINEERING CORPORATION NEWARK, NEW JERSEY OFFICES: NEW YORK + PHILADELPHIA + BOSTON - CHICAGO CARRIER ENGINEERING CO., LTD. LONDON, PARIS, BOMBAY, JOHANNESBURG WASHINGTON KANSAS CITY + LOS ANGELES CLEVELAND CARRIER LUFTTECHNISCHE GESELLSCHAFI GART, RMAN Manufactured Weather makes “Every day a good day”

Page 212

You'll Never Know where the hole or crack was when you fill it with Rutland Patching Plaster. Makes perfect patch and lasts as long as the wall itself. So easy, too! Just mix with water and use. Anyone can do it. At all paint, wall-paper and hard- ware stores. Rutland Fire Clay Company, Rutland, Vermont. Rutland Patching Plaster This adv. suggested by J. Riker, 217 Quincy St. B’klyn, N.Y. If you have a mew end original idea. send it to us and if acceptable we will pay $100.00 —and it is just zs unsafe to use benzine, naphtha or gasoline demand- CARBONA Cleaning Fluid CANN of BURN CANNOT EXPLODE absolutely safe!- Removes Grease Spots Without Injury to Fabric or Color Does it Quickly and Easily 2.0* BOTTLES 4"aut onue ston AT ALL DRUG STORES Carbona Products Co., 302-504 West 26th Street, New York - e THOUSANDS of ambitious men How to are earning more money today learn because they know Accounting. Accountins Send for our book, ' How to Learn te Accounting,” and the first lesson. Both will be sent free. International Accountants Society, Inc. A Division of the Avexannper Hamicton Instirore Dept. 41, 3411 So. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Til. THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 210) greater than for the year before, notwith- standing low prices and overproduction. These profit-making companies were the : | low-cost producers, and generally such as combined storage, transportation and refin- ing with the business of pumping crude oil out of the ground. And that is only an- other way of saying what has been said before. The profit came not from oil as oil; it was from efficiency of production and process. If the ideal aim of conservation is that we shall take from the ground no more mineral wealth, from the forests no more | lumber, and from the soil no more of its products than we need and can properly utilize, then efficient, low-cost production makes straight for it. The efficient produc- ers can make a profit at a price that obliges | the marginal and inefficient producers to stop. And if the efficient producers can at that price supply the demand, you have both conservation and cheapness. To let the law of survival run with full benefit to the efficient producers is bound, | of course, to work a hardship upon the less efficient who are thereby eliminated. But | is conservation concerned with these? Logi- | eally it should be concerned only with the oil they do not pump, the coal they do not | mine, the timber they do not cut. Else | what do we mean by conservation at all? Well, its own history in witness, what it means at a given moment is always some- what in doubt. This is so for the reason among others that it must continually | compromise with political and emotional | forces tending to defeat it. For example, | the thought of letting resources fall naturally | into the hands of efficient, low-cost produc- ers only; since these are relatively few and may easily combine, raises at once the old | fear of monopoly. Much competition | would be eliminated. But in the past twenty years our ideas of both monopoly and competition have changed. It is no | longer true that the only use of monopoly anybody can imagine is to squeeze the con- sumer. It has evolved other uses, one of | which is to rationalize production, which is | what the conservationist wants, and another | is to squeeze the cost. In the same time much has been learned about the power of intelligent regulation. Competition of Whole Industries As for competition, what now appears is that whole industries must compete with one another, and that is very different from anarchic competition within an in- dustry, leading always to overproduction. An oil monopoly, for instance, could not raise the price of oil without causing coal to displace oil as fuel; and on the other | side, a coal monopoly could not afford to make coal dear, for that would cause more and more fuel oil to be substituted for coal. On this plane of competition you will find such interesting facts as that since 1918 the use of coal as a source of energy has de- clined 14 per cent while the use of fuel oil for the same purpose has increased 115 per cent, the use of natural gas 65 per cent and the use of water power 54 per cent. It is, of course, absurd and contrary to the first principles of conservation that the use of coal should have declined while the use of oil for fuel purposes in ten years has doubled. It is not only that oil has essential uses for which coal cannot be substituted; the reserves of oil are undoubtedly very much less than those of coal. Then there has been always the necessity for the logic of conservation to compromise | with political realities. The collective power of the individual has never been overcome. ‘“‘In the past,” said Theodore Roosevelt to the governors in 1909, “we have admitted the right of the individual to injure the future of the Republic for his own present profit. In fact, there has been a good deal of a demand for unrestricted individualism, for the right of the individual | to injure the future of us all for his own temporary and immediate profit. The | time has come for a change.” EVENING POST All he could have meant was that it was time that time had come. Twenty years have passed and it has not yet come. Hold- ing to the American tradition of the pioneer’s right to possess what he finds and to exploit it as he privately pleases, waste- fully or efficiently, the individual is still a powerful political influence. It is not only that he has the sympathy of Congress. Some of that is fictitious. Behind him is the will of states and communities to ex- ploit the land and all natural resources within their reach. It is their shortest way to self-aggrandizement. Land, forests and minerals are national assets, but farming, lumbering and mining are regional activities on which to build vital statistics, taxable wealth, concrete roads, cities, commerce, banking, state power. The nation’s agriculture may be already overexpanded; for that reason a state will not forbear to water a desert if it has one, and plant irrigated farming upon it. The lumber industry at large may be suffering from overproduction;. a state will not for that reason prefer the soughing of the wind in a primeval forest to the sound of a band saw. If the lumber has no mar- ket within the country, it may be exported, and that means ships in the harbor, port development, benefit of foreign commerce. The Two Kinds of Waste Here is conflict between the will of states and communities for rapid self-development and the will of a nation to conserve its natural resources. It is a problem that be- longs to statesmanship. However, that was to have been said twenty years ago. It is no clearer now than it was then. The original approach to conservation was through statesmanship only, and that is why so much of the case was lost. Conservation has two aspects. One is that aspect in which statesmanship prop- erly sees it—thinking of natural resources in terms of national welfare and of waste at the source. The other is that aspect in which the engineer sees it—thinking of | waste in use. He talks not of conservation but of utilization for greater profit. Con- servation may or may not pay; utilization will. Looking at the coal industry, the statesman thinks of the rate at which we are exhausting the mines for immediate profit and may even suggest that for the sake of posterity we should all be willing to pay a little more for our coal and use it sparingly. The engineer, looking at the coal industry, sees too many mines, uneconomic opera- | tion, no storage, backward technology, | | Soon you peel the whole corn off with your fingers— like dead skin. great loss in hauling the raw product long distances, almost total disregard of its precious commodity values beyond fuel, and says: ‘‘In all that waste lies the oppor- tunity for great profit.” The statesman, looking at the lumber in- dustry, sees a third of the tree trunk left to rot in the forest. The engineer sees that, too, and may think of ways to utilize the cast-away part, but he sees also a nearer | thing, which is the thickness of the band saw. If the saw is half an inch thick the mill gets only eight one-inch boards out of a twelve by twelve square timber; means two-thirds lumber and one-third waste. But if the saw is %« of an inch thick there will be ten one-inch boards out | of that same piece; in that case five- sixths lumber and one-sixth waste. Tell the lumberman he ought not to discard the top third of the tree; he will agree with you and go on doing it. Show him how to get two more boards out of a log, and he will do something about it at once. In milling there may be more waste than in logging, wasteful as logging is. One kind of waste is waste in utiliza- tion; the other is waste at the source. Against waste at the source the headway in the past twenty years has been unreason- ably slow. With waste in use, it is different. But for amazing progress in the field of utilization the state of our natural resources would be much lower than it is. And that has been the engineer’s contribution. (Continued on Page 215) that | May 25, 1929 test vinrud- go fun than flying. More thrills at 30 than from a car at i 60M. P.H. \ Evinrude—world’s fastest twin last year and winner of most endurance runs— offers still more » more eatures for power. size for every craft, from canoe to small cruiser. Underwater exhaust, water- proof ignition, easy start- ing made still easier, tor- pedo streamline, pressure-vacuum cooling (no moving parts), ball and roller bearings, self steering. Easy time payments as low as $37.50 down. Write for new free Evinrude Year Book. EVINRUDE DIVISION, Outboard Motors Corporation Milwaukee, Wis. 12000 27th St. vanish after this amazing liquid UCH the most painful corn with this amazing liquid. In three seconds all the pain is gone. Acts like an anaesthetic. You wear tight shoes, dance, walk again in comfort! No paring or cutting—that is dangerous. Besides, the corn then comes back. This way loosens it. Works alike on corns or calluses. Professional dancers by the score use this method. Doctors approve it as safe and gentle. Millions employ it to gain quick relief. There is no other like it. Ask for “Gets-It" at your druggist. if not delighted. There are imitations. get the genuine. “GETS-IT” How to choose Money back Be sure to World's Fastest Way I F the _a good blend seamal Pop of tea dia is on the package you buy, you can be sure the blend contains more than 50% of the world-famed India Tea. Look for the map of India beforeyoubuy. Issued by the Growers of India Tea EUROP CRUISE June 29 ss. “LANCASTRIA” CUNARD LINE, 52 days, $600 to $1300 Spain, Tangier, Algiers, Italy, Riviera, Sweden, Norway, Edinburgh, Tros- sachs, Berlin (Paris, London, Rhine, etc.). Hotels, drives, fees, etc. included. Mediterranean Cruise, Jan. 29, $600 up Frank C. Clark, Times Bidg., N. Y.

Page 213

*¥F

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 213 4 Ota NEWEST ae ee I N C LE A:N et NN. 2s A will wash and vacuum clean your elothes at home

IXTY TIMES a minute hot water and air are forced up and down through the clothes in the astonishing new Cinderella Washing Machine. And nothing but air and water touches the clothes—the Cinderella is without pad- dies, without cups. Because only air and water are used, anything that can be washed by hand can be washed by the Cinderella—this remarkable device is exactly as easy on the filmiest fabrics as your own gentle hands would be. Silks, woolens, lace curtains, fine linen or embroidered fabrics—all may be washed safely and thoroughly with the Cinderella. The suds water in the Cinderella washes the clothes; the air aerates them. They come out not only clean but also fresh and sweet. No home with water and electricity need be without the convenience of this handy wash- 15 Minutes The Cinderella will wash five men’s shirts or 14 diapers or the equivalent, in 15 minutes. Put the soap, water and clothes in, plug into any light socket and go away. In 15 minutes the clothes are clean and fresh—washed ing machine. and vacuum cleaned.

‘& are j—_/1 THE CINDERELLA WASHING MACHINE COMPANY a) AN | Ag 1310 Euclid Avenue -« Cleveland, Ohio 9 : —-4+4 4) Canadian Distributors: THE NORTHERN ELECTRIC COMPANY, Ltd. I | (

0A i Ahora vain

4 TO MERCHANTS Because of its remarkable and unique features, the Cinderella Washing Machine is going to be in demand in your community. Write or wire for full information at once.

rONe aly a ik ra po a ° — 1 |p lWIdeVvelld % Slightly bigher west of the Rockies and in parts of Canada Nothing to ‘Break or Wear Out The only moving parts are a fan and motor, and these are well shielded, Every part is made of the finest materials money can buy. The Cinderella has been tested for two years under every work- ing condition, and is fully guaranteed. Portable The Cinderella weighs but 19 pounds and when not in use can be stored anywhere a basket would fit. You'll find it handy to use in the bathroom for your fine lingerie and stockings, then in the kitchen for baby’s things, and perhaps in the basement for the main or mid-week wash. Colorful The top of the Cinderella is gleaming nicke!, the porcelain enamel tub may be had in Chinese red, Capri blue, Apple green, or Puritan ivory. See for Yourself See the Cinderella at your dealer's, and judge for yourself how much time and labor it would save you. If your dealer does not yet have it, write us, stating what color you prefer, and we will arrange for you to inspect it,

_—= == 42> «4 «<= «— «= «= «= -_- —_— -= -—- -— «= «- =—- = =< =, Tue CrnpereLLa Wasninc MacHine Co, - 4316 Buctid Avenue, Cleveland, Ohi ! Without obligation, send me the free booklet The Washer that Makes You Believe in Pairice”, and tel } i me where I can see a Cinderella. The color | prefer is j Name Street j City Mate } oi

A A. ee et

Page 214

The American Standard of Living Comfort Maytime is at hand...Summer is just round the corner...Nature is beckon- ing the world outdoors... but it isn't so long ago since Nature drove the world indoors ...and she will do it again!...Maytime doesn't last forever...but you can make it permanent in the home...it’s all right now to put the climate in charge of the family ...but put American Radiator Heating and Standard Sanitary Plumbing in charge...protect your loved ones with The American Standard of Living Comfort... protect them against extremes in the wea- ther...safeguard them four seasons in- stead of one!...lengthen their days and strengthen their bodies with A Lifetime of Maytime. @ 4 4 4 AMERICAN an on Sat STANDARD * SANITARY CORPORATION an 40 WEST 40th STREET, NEW YORK AND ALL PRINCIPAL CITIES THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25, 1929 - I am interested in... receiving particulars of your convenient payment plan by which my home may be heated for less than $75 a room. receiving an interesting book with illus- tration in color... “Standard Plumbing Fixtures for the Home.” receiving interesting book with illustra- tions in color... “Heat and the Span of Life.” receiving particulars of the Building and Loan Association financing plan. My nameis __ My address is | TER State NSEP-5-29

Page 215

Lots of it! Deduct your own big commissions. Added bonus paid to real workers. Additional profits possible. Working equipment sup- plied. No investment required. Experience unnecessary. Find out today about selling some of your spare time. You win if you like our plan. If you don’t, you lose only a postage stamp! Take the chance. Mail This Coupon Now Box 1624, “/o THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 315 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Mail me your offer. I'll look it over. Name (Please Print Name and Address Street City State Age

The write away! Tuat’s the way of a good pencil if it’s sharpened with a Boston. You have a cleanly tapered, smooth-writing point! Boston Model L costs only $1. Other models at $1.25, $1.50, $3, and 35. Slightly higher in the West. From any store selling stationery. C. Howard Hunt Pen Co., Camden, N. J. 4 BOSTON PENCIL SHARPENERS The Indelible Peneil with the Durable Lead for manifold invoicing and ordering; signing letters and checks, ete. 10¢ If your dealer cannot supply you, write us. American Pencil Co., Hoboken, N.J.

20 Styles VENUS ae

THE “OVERHEAD DOOR” Opens Up—Completely Out of the Way For Garage—Factory— Warehouse. Send for Catalog Overhead Door Corporation Hartford City, Ind. PATENT BOOKLET FREE HIGHEST REFERENCES BEST RESULTS PROMPTNESS ASSURED Watson E. Coleman, Patent Lawyer, 724-9th St., Washington,D.C.

| THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 2/2) It was the final misfortune of the Roose- velt conservation movement that it came to a head just at a time when we were find- ing our way to a new economic philosophy. We had not yet been able to formulate it. Nevertheless, an intuition of it was acting, and that is why so many people talked as if they believed in conservation and then be- haved as if they did not. What distin- guishes the new economics from any former doctrine of wealth is that it puts first em- phasis on use and consumption. You might take the familiar expression of it to be: “Of no value until used.” It is the use of things | that has made the country rich, not the hoarding or saving of them, no virtue of thrift or self-denial. Wealth as we think is not in possessions; it is in satisfactions. Altways Another Barrel That way of thinking, however, may | easily take a reckless direction, as in fact it did. Certainly, in view of the phenomena | of mass production and mass consumption and of the rate at which we have learned | to multiply present satisfactions, conserva- tion is many times more important than it was twenty years ago; we are living very much faster toward all sequels. Much of the thought with which it was clothed in Roosevelt’s time has been modified or made ovsolete by experience and new knowledge. We may have become more callous toward certain forms of waste, especially the waste of materials in the taking of them at the source, and that is sheer folly; on the other hand, we are much more mindfu! of waste | in other forms, notably waste of time, waste of human energy in tasks of drudgery that machines can be made to do, waste of anarchic competition and overproduction. As a vital subject conservation needs to be reéxamined. It may be that for reasons | concealed in our destiny the faster we con- vert our natural resources into means of power and things of use the better. It may be that as one source of energy is exhausted another will be found. Even grain dust will run an engine. None of that is any argument for waste. It is certain that we shall come at last to the end of our irre- placeable resources, such as mineral fuel and metal. It will be one thing to be able to look back, saying, ‘‘ We used them to the utmost advantage,” and another to be obliged to say, “Alas! We have wasted them.” Particularly is it necessary that the con- | flicting thoughts of the Government itself shall be reconciled. A department of con- servation to organize the view might save the Government from the kind of awkward- ness in which it found itself invo!ved when it began to think of conserving the oil supply. What happened was as follows: The President appoints a board to consider from the point of view of national welfare how | oil is wasting because the production of it | is temporarily excessive. The board urges | upon the oil people the necessity to restrict production. The oil people come to the board with a plan, to which they will agree, for holding production down. The Depart- ment of Justice tells the board it will be dangerous for it to listen and that it cannot EVENING POST in any case sanction such a plan because the law forbids the production of anything to be limited by agreement. Meanwhile the Department of the Interior says that so long as the production of oil is excessive and wasteful it will issue no more permits to | wild-cat prospectors wishing to search the | public domain for oil. In this position, however, it must face a law passed by Con- gress in 1920, entitled, “An act to promote the mining of coal, phosphate, oil, oil shale, gas and sodium in the public domain,” which law was supposed to have made it | mandatory upon the Department of the Interior first to give the prospector his per- mit and then to lease him the land under which he had found oil or other substance of value. Oil happens to be the dramatic present case. Consider first the extent of our | internal-combustion-engine scheme and the necessity for it to grow. Motor cars, trucks, tractors, planes and ships, all re- quiring not only gasoline but also, from the same source, lubrication. Consider, then, that nobody knows how much crude oil remains to be pumped out of the sand. Some geologists think we have yet a six years’ supply of our own. Others are more or less optimistic. It is partly opinion and partly temperament. One veteran oil pro- ducer will say it was a fatal mistake to force oil into uses for which coal would do, as under boilers. Another will say, “‘ Don’t worry. We shall always be able to find another barrel of oil.” There is no more certainty than that. The supply, whatever it may turn out to be, has its finality. Everyone knows that. No matter. At the moment we are producing seven-tenths | of the world’s total output and exporting great quantities of it. The Place to Store Oil The ideal storage for oil reserve is in the sand. Yet, because the oil-bearing sands have been exploited too fast, much more oil is pumping than the internal-combustion engines immediately need, and for that reason one-third of the total output is sold for fuel in competition with coal. Using it ourselves and selling it out to the world as a fuel cheaper than coal, merely to get rid of a pumped-up surplus. Natural gas in hun- dreds of millions of cubic feet still going to waste, not because we do not know what to do with it but because oil is too plentiful. Every cubic foot of gas permitted to es- cape not only is lost forever as a source of | energy in itself; as it escapes the pressure in the oil pool falls and the altimate re- | covery will be so much less. Twenty years ago the power of science and technclogy to effect higher utilization of natural products and so reduce waste at the point of use was underestimated. The case today is that we take this power to be a source of magic. Ask a man joy- riding in his motor car or one plowing his field with a tractor what will happen when the oil gives out. He answers: “Oh, by that time we can turn a switch and get our juice from the radio, or something else.” Faith in bonanza still, though it may be bonanza of science. Luck so far. Conser- vation at the source foolishly bankrupt and nobody to blame.

across | a XN yn i| F: A ittii! Ht MMT uaa) \\\ i tn pr arannitll ca \\\Y itll THE LE AUTO SEAT COVERS are tailored to cover entire upholstery including seats, side paneis, arm rests, and back of front seat are priced at new low levels to bring their comfort and protection within ihe reach of all

are woven of special durable materiais . in 18 attractive patterns that beau tify any new car improve any old car . smartly trimmed sad in bar monious colors can be attached by anyone in a few min utes by patented Glove Fasteners (not pins) . . . easy to remove for cleaning Perfect Fit Guaranteed Ford Coupe and Roadster $6.95 Ford Touring, Tudor and Forder Se- | Chevrolet », Cabriolet and Roed- ster, Star, Coupe and Cab- Chevrolet Touring, Coach, Sedan, A, Whippet Coech and Sedan . 12.30 “ large cars, 2 Coupes 795 large cars, 4 5S passenger | Coupes, Coaches and Sedans 12.95 Sample Patterns Free! If no Supreme Dealer is near, we can supply you ored for your car of patterns and sam materials sent FREE on request Dealers, Jobbers, Dept. Stores Write for unusually attractive propertiion on the complete line of Supreme ute Seai Covers | with guaranteed Supreme Auto Seat Covers tail AUTO FABRICS MPG. CO. 1243-45 South Wabash Ave., Chicago, Il.

— — Universotone < Unless you are pepstecsly deal it offers you instattaneous relief. And it is scarcely noticeable, thanks to its tiny earpiece. It is of vest pocket size sad & worn concealed

in the clothing. It ie so powerful that near and distant sounds are heard clearly and without buzzing or static. Every tone is reproduced in tts true natural quality. Write today for name of ncar- est dealer and details of our liberal bome trial plan. Address Dept. 451—Amertcaa Phone- phor Corp., 19 W. 44th Street, New York. Dressy—Easy A stylish shoe, easy on tender- est feet. Genuine black kid, dressy, built for hardest service. Scientific Arch Sup- port eases aches, tiredness, relieves foot troubles. Combination last. Snug ankle fix. Features of shoes selling at twice the price. Sizes 5 to 12, $5. A ‘ ittle more for sizes 13-4 14-15. Ask your dealer. M. T. SHAW, Inc.

Shoe Dealers write at once REMOVE CORNS and CALLUSES .- Stinging pain of hard of eft corm of calluses, len ves when you apply Foot Corn and Caius Remover. 4 to 10 times lilt«

corn of callus out, no matter how long standing or how many failures. Ongimated in Paris by breach chemet. Thogaamde uf grateful users all over the world. Trial comvinces. At Drug Stores of by mail, Large Jar $: Red Foot Pro@ucts Co. Detroit POR YOU. SELL BEAUTIFUL HERTEL Personal Made-to-Order Christmas Cards ¢ pur ores aad professiunal men. nly bow Typist made $1000 im tanch bourse Housewile $800 spare time 00 sampice FREE! $) HERTEL CO., Dept. 525-8 SiS Vaskmgten Ohroes

Page 216

216 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

Look at the rust inside of that pipe! . You’ll see why you got only a trickle of water”

Perhaps you have been wondering why the water in your house no longer flows as abundantly as it once did... .why it so frequently takes on that unpleasant reddish tinge. It is not a question of water pressure or supply. Rust is clogging the pipe, retarding the flow and discoloring the water. Some day there may be damaging pipe leaks, with all the inconvenience and expense they involve. But such pipe failures are avoidable. Install pipe that can- not rust—Anaconda Brass Pipe. Then you will get a full flow of water, as pure and clear as it leaves the city mains— even after a generation of service. Anaconda Brass Pipe costs somewhat more than rustable pipe, if installed when the house is built, but actually saves an average of $31 in upkeep annually over a period of years. Other sound economies are possible through the use of Anaconda Copper for gutters, rain-pipes, and roof flashings —screens of Anaconda Brass Wire. The free booklet “RUST-PROOFED” gives the facts. May we send you a copy? The American Brass Company, Waterbury, Connecticut. pA ANACONDA BRASS PIPE

COPPER BRASS : AND BRONZE ANACONDA

May 25,1929

Index of Advertisers May 25, 1929 PAGE AC Spark Plug Company......... 88 Addressograph Company............ 183 Agfa Ansco Corporation. . ‘0 OD Alemite Manufacturing Corporation... 58 Alexander Hamilton Institute 212 Alligator Co., The... ...209 American Brass Co., The 216 American Fruit Growers, Inc. 133 American Optical Co. 113 American Pencil Co. 215 American Phonophor Corp. 215 American Radiator & Standard Sanitary Corporation 214 American Telephone & Telegraph Co.. 91 Arlac Dry Stencil Corp’n............210 Art Metal Construction Co.... 128 Art Metal Works, Inc. .. . 166, 167 Associated Tile Manufacturers, The. .219 Atwater Kent Mfg. Co. dent Pe cee Bauer & Black : 205 Bendix Brake Company ‘. ...149 Benjamin Franklin, The 142 Bird & Son, inc......... tet ee Bohn Aluminum & Brass Corp... 81 Brown and Williamson Tobacco Corp. 95 Buick Motor Company R 57, 61 Burke Golf Co. 195 Campbell Soup Company... .... 35 Campfire Corporation, The 194 Canada Dry Ginger Ale 122, 123 Carbide and Carbon Chemicals Corporation (Pyrofax Division) 51 Carbona Products Co.. 212 Carrier Engineering Corporation 211 Carrom Company, The 124 Central Alloy Steel Corporation ...220 Chase Brass & Copper Co. y ~~ Chesebrough Mfg. Co. 126 Chipman Chemical Eng. Co., Inc. 215 Chrysler Motors 66 Cinderella Washing Machine Co., The 213 Cities Service Company 137 Clark, Frank C. . as ; 212 Clipper Belt Lacer Company i SERT Coleman, Watson E. ; 215 Colgate-Palmolive-Peet Co. 62 Commercial Investment Trust Corp..112 Congoleum-Nairn Inc... . . 40 Cooper, Wells & Co..... ce , 4883 Franklin Automobile Company 129 French Company, The R. T. 197 General Tire and Rubber Co., The .78, 79 Gets-It, Inc. 212 Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., Inc., The 101 Graham-Paige Motors Corp..... .103 Grigsby-Grunow Company 63 Hamilton Watch Company 152, 153 Hartmann Trunk Co. 106 Hart, Schaffner & Marx 2 Heinn Company, The. . 168 Hertel Co. : ‘ 215 Hill-Standard Co.. .. 197 Holeproof Hosiery Company eat 1 Horlick’s Malted Milk Corp 201 Hunt Pen Co., C. Howard 215 India Tea Bureau : | Industrial Dallas, Inc. 159 International Nickel Co., Inc., The . .150 Interwoven Stocking Company..... .134 Insurance Company of North America 140 Jantzen Knitting Mills...... ; 188 Jarman Shoe Company 208 Johnson. Motor Company 138, 139 Johnson & Son, S. C. cosh .105 PAGE Kari-Keen Mfg. Co., Inc. . 161 Kendall Refining Company 164, 165 Kolster Radio Corporation 192 Kool Kooshion Mfg. Co... i 210 Kozak 210 Kroehler Mfg. Co 184 Larus & Brother Company ..144 Lee and Schiffer, Inc. .200 Lee Tire & Rubber Company 115 Lorillard Company, Inc., P. 59 Lycoming Manufacturing Company. . 160 Majestic Co., The 209 Marchant Calculating Machine Co... . 148 Jt Le See : 96 Metropolitan Life Insurance Co. 93 Midland Mutual Life Insurance Co., The 205 Mueller Company : 98, 99 Munsingwear Corporation, The 158 National Association of Ice Industries. 118 National Cash Register Company, The 125 New Departure Manufacturing Co., The. 55 New York Central Lines ‘ 155 Nunn-Bush Shoe Co 109 Nyal Company 172,173 Oakland Motor Car Company 44,45 Olds Motor Works 48, 49 Overhead Door Corporation 215 Packard Motor Car Co. 87 Parke, Davis & Co. 47 Parker Rust-Proof Company 198 Peerless Motor Car Corporation 92 Pennsylvania Railroad 146, 147 Perfect Circle Company, The... 77 Phoenix Hosiery Company 176, 177 Photographers Association of America 107 Plymouth Motor Corporation 67 Portland Chamber of Commerce, Portland, Oregon 135 Postum Company, Inc. ae 120 Pratt & Lambert-Inc. , 163 Quaker, Oats Co., The II Cover Quaker State Oil Refining Co. 143 Red Foot Products Co.. 215 Reid, Murdoch & Company 186 Remington Arms Company, Inc. 202 Reo Motor Car Co. 89 Robbins & Myers, Inc. ; 119 Rutland Fire Clay Co. 100, 212 Russell, Burdsall & Ward Bolt & Nut Co. 196 Russell Manufacturing Co., The... . . 130 Save the Surface Campaign. .. 108 Scripps-Howard Newspapers 179 Segal Lock & Hardware Co., Inc 178 Selz Organizatio#, The. 191 Shaler Company, The 185 Shaw, Inc., M. T... 215 Simonds Saw and Steel Co. 117 Sinclair-Cox Company, Inc... 162 Smith Shoe Company, J. P.. .104 Spencer Heater Company 72 Squibb & Sons, E. R. . & Standard Oil Company of New York. . 131 Standard Varnish Works............102 Sterno Corp. &.. 193 Strathmore Paper Co... . 156 Swift & Company........ os 37 Texas Company, The........... 116 Timken Roller Bearing Company, The 52 Union Metal Mfg. Co., The ; 203 Union Pacific System 204 United States Rubber Company 70, 74, 75, 174, 175 Universal Auto Fabrics Mfg. Co 215 Upson Company, The 127 U.S. Hoffman Machinery Corp. 84 Vacuum Oil Company 39 Valentine & Company ‘ 132 Weaant res... a ase 182 Van Dorn Electric Tool Co., The... .217 Victor Talking Machine Company.’+:...5..:.. . .68, IV Cover Wanamaker, John... SatGIS pA nena eee Weyerhaeuser Forest Products... 170 White Company, The. . 2 pe Williams Sealing Corporation 171 Willys-Overland, Inc. ee UG Wilson Brothers - ; 86 Wyeth Chemical Co., Inc.......... .193

While every precaution is taken to insure accuracy, we cannot guarantee against the possibility an occasional change or omission in the preparation of this index.

Page 217

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST - ——- — ~ ~- > = . Tue Van Dorn Etectric Toot Co., | CLEVELAND, On10 I am interested in your No. 1 Electric Tool Kit, and will be glad to have you give me the name of a nearby supply house where | can see one. | I cilia ipa ee. ee ee

Page 218

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST TAKES Pictures SUNNY - cloudy - rainy days NY weather is good awd taking weather with This is the film for peipaler people — good _— healthy Americans who don’t stay home just because the are forecasting storms or - sh showers. ° Agfa into your camera! Then _ your fingers at an sky. This film isn’t finick doesn’t demand that ing be “just so.” Why, you can get good results even when the sun ANSCO Reacdysret AND for 100% carefree pictures, use Agfa Film in an Ansco Ready- America’s most_ beautiful No adjusting. Read set Royal, camers. No focusing. You learn to operate an Ansco set in exactly one minute. It does the thinking for you. Whip it out —aim— click! That's all there is to it. You'll be proud to carry a Royal. Covered with the finest ostrich -grain leather, it’s athoroughbred in every detail. Agfa Ansco Corporation, Binghamton, N. Y is so bright you have to squint your eyes. results even when rain-drops are spattering on your subject! “Too good to be true!” is probably your first reaction to those statements. Well, just re- member that Agfa is ferred film of literally millions of camera fans—and is sold all ove: the civilized world. Brilliant in- ternational success is a real proof of merit. Try Agfa—and see for yourself. RIEVF VSS ROYAL May 25,1929 E PtcTURES| GETTING ON IN THE WORLD (Continued from Page 76) afew years on this job I got into a disagree- ment with my firm on a policy question, resigned and secured a job on the road. After a time the house decided that I could be more useful to them teaching other men to sell, and that is what I am still doing. I tell our men to call on a lot of dealers and ask ’em to buy our stuff. In the main, the men who follow this advice are doing pretty well for us and themselves. And in making this statement I do not wish to make the boastful claim that I have discovered the whole secret of success- ful selling. Far from it. But I do think that the other secrets of successful selling | are just as simple as the ones I have tried to | explain here. They are probably a long list of obvious things, buffeting around in the dust unnoticed at our feet because so plain and easy to apply. These things will be discovered, clothed in simple language and applied before long, and then we shall all marvel at the ingenuity of the men respon- sible and at the unbelievable increase in selling efficiency that will have been secured by such ordinary means. An exactly comparable process has taken place in our methods of production in the last quarter century, and if we were not all familiar with what has happened in that line of endeavor, we would take a week off to wonder at it. This increase in industrial efficiency has just been a simple matter of taking the straight line between two points. It will be the same thing in selling. Men with an engineering type of mind will con- duct extensive research work first. Then they will reduce the apparently complicated processes of selling to a list of absurdly sim- ple and easily understood steps. They will then train ordinary men to take these steps in sequence and supervise them intelli- gently, with as much recognition of human values as of mechanical operations. And the miracle of mass distribution will come to pass in much the same fashion as did the miracle of mass production. — GEORGE BIGGs. never authorized. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (More Than Two Million Seven Hundred and Fifty Thousand Weekly) IS fully protected by copyright and nothing that appears in it may be reprinted, either wholly or in part, without special permission. The use of our articles or quotations from them for advertising promotions and stock-selling schemes is Gretchen— William Hazlett Upson Table of Contents May 25, 1929 Cover Design by Joseph F. Kernan SHORT STORIES PAGE IlMustrated by Tony Sarg 5 The Darkest Horse— John P. Marquand Illustrated by H. J. Mowat Tell it Not in Gath— Ben Ames Williams . Ilustrated by R. M. Crosby The Tiger’s Mouth—Richard Matthews Hallet Illustrated by Anton Otto Fischer . Illustrated by R. M. Crosby Illustrated by W. H. D. Koerner Illustrated by Henry Raleigh Illustrated by C. D. Williams . Illustrated by Tony Sarg Big Time— William Slavens McNutt Ride and Tie—Hal G. Evarts Jig Time— Colonel Givens The Air is Not Thin— Joseph Hergesheimer The Rode Bird— Hugh Wiley ARTICLES Captain Dollar— Ernest Poole Faith in Bonanza—Garet Garrett Photographs Puritan’s Progress— Arthur Train Photographs Aviation’s Third Decade— Ralph D. Weyerbach,r, Com. C. Cc. U.S.N. Photographs Wild Iron Life—Chet Shafer Photographs About These Mystery Stories—P. G. Wodehouse Siceatibin by Wyncie King The Shadow Emperor of All the Russias—Princess Marthe Bibesco Photographs Photographs Art and Artful Art—As told to Edward H. Smith . SERIALS The Black Camel (Second part)— Earl Derr Biggers Illustrated by F. R. Gruger I Gave Them What They Wanted (Fifth part)— Chester T. Crowell Illustrated by Orison MacPherson The Million-Pound Deposit (Conclusion)—E. Phillips Oppenheim Illustrated by Henry Raleigh MISCELLANY Editorials Short Turns and Encores ‘ Cartoon and Comedy : The Slowest Town on Earth (A Poem)— Wallace Seurin : Getting On in the World . ‘ rate 10 14 16 20 22 26 30 53 wow 18 33 46 56 28 36 41 32 34 60 62 76 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. THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Publishers also of Ladies’ Home Journal (monthly) 10c the copy, $1.00 the year (U. S. and Canada), and The Country Gentleman (monthly) Sc the copy, 3 years for $1.00 (U. S. and Canada). Foreign prices quoted on request.

Page 219

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 219 HIS OCTAGONAL BATH-DRESSING ROOM by FREDERICK G- FROST expresses the Luxurious beauty of REAL TILES THIRD OF A SERIES of distinguished rooms, designed with Keramic Tiles . . . by America’s leading architects. It is one of the marvels of modern life—the bath- dressing room of today, with its perfection of beauty” and comfort. In this delightful combination bath and dressing- room every convenience represents the highest degree of luxury. Today architects everywhere—not satisfied with designing the bathroom as a mere utility—are making 4 ‘&§. it one of the architectural jewels of the house, lavish- ing upon it their richest inventions, their most beautiful designs. Keramic Tiles—real tiles—have made this wonder- ful development possible. No other material shows such range in decorative units, color nuances, texture, pattern; no other has such innate distinction and beauty as a setting for the bath. In this lovely bath-dressing room in orchid, gray, and gold, designed by Frederick G. Frost, one feels an exquisite harmony of color and design. The spring- ing arches of the mosaic ceiling, the cobweb pattern (ea rom ee Oey FSGS AED J One FLOOR PLAN at the right shows how ingeniously every a clothes closet, and a toilet are set harmoniously in the point of comfort and convenience has been thought out eight sides of the room. English drawers line the entrance. in this beautiful room. \A bath, a shower, a lavatory with The dressing table in the center of the room has an medicine chest, a closet for hats, shoes and lingerie,adivan, adjustable mirror which can be opened into three wings. CK EL RIA IM ll €] | Ite es of the floor, the dainty octagonal tiled dressing table in the center of the room, are notes of originality that blend in a general air of distinction and elegance. Let us send you — free — our illustrated booklet Enduring Beauty in your home through Keramic Tiles. It will give you many interesting facts and suggestions about the new ways in which Keramic Tiles are being used in beautiful homes throughout America. Write to us today! THE ASSOCIATED TILE MANUFACTURERS Dept. S-5, 420 Lexington Ave., New York, N. Y.

Page 220

ream Mek. $3 a [| = Ear, ray iP on) eta y ‘J Ro. tug fe a . ‘> Fa ; - ‘ Ee f oe ae $ i y \ ‘ \, Effect of corrosion on an ordinary steel rivet and a rivet of Toncan Iron, both of which bave been tested for the same length oftime. These Md were originally the same size. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 25,1929 f “} Plates and Rivets of ‘Tonean [ron defeat Rustand Salt Corrosion Gs" SHIPS that . gad the briny seas, or freighters that ply both fresh and salt waters, each must wage a vigorous battle against rust and corrosion. Progressive ship builders now use Toncan Copper Mo-lyb-den-um Iron for the plates that form the ship’s hull—and for the tenacious rivets that bind these plates in place. In countless other uses this remarkably durable alloy of pure iron, copper and molybdenum has demonstrated a resistance to rust and corrosion, that is outstanding among ferrous metals. In engine boilers, culverts, steam and oil piping—all subject to continuous danger from corrosion—Toacan assures surpassing permanence. For exposed metal parts of buildings, from homes to sky- scrapers, leading architects specify Toncan. Manufacturers of stoves, refrigerators, washing machines and scores of household and commercial products, use Toncan Iron to insure greater satisfaction and longer life. CENTRAL ALLOY STEEL CORPORATION Massillon and Canton, Obio World's Largest and Most Highly Specialized Alloy Steel Producers REG. U.S. PAT. OFF - CINCAN:» Pee i eee a = a —_ ee

Page 221

lo the public...a “secret” This is the first time any gum man- ufacturer has ever revealed the ingredients of his product to the public ~ « «I do it largely as a matter of personal pride, I°ll admit. I’m proud of the purity and quality of Baby Ruth Gum «x « Here’s what Baby Ruth Gum is made of: pure chicle, imported from Central America. Full-cream milk. Pure cane sugar. The ey I Oe ~~ Mant eveTsss BabyRuth iy ee :— eee” i> ~ Corton CURTISS CANDY COMPANY, Chicago Makers of Baby Ruth Candy and Chicos, the New Spanish Peanuts Sold in sealed glassine bags NEVER IN BULK We finest peppermint money can buy— lots of it! «~~ There you have the secret of its cool, refreshing flavor —the real mint flavor that you can’t chew out. That is why it sweetens the breath, aids digestion so effec- tively. And that is why it is sweep- ing the country with unprece- dented popularity « « « Try Baby Ruth Gum today. [I’m sure you will be delighted! PRESIDENT YOU CAN'T CHEW OUT ITS FLAVOR

Page 222

ow! Victor-Radio with Electrola Chhe instrument that millions have waited for New in principle... new in design. It was inevitable . . . the maker of the world’s finest talking machine was destined to create the radio achievement of the age. And now you have it . . . aradio by Victor ... with Victor’s quarter century of acoustical ex- perience behind it . . . with Victor’s enduring craftsmanship built into it . . . with years of Victor’s dependable performance ahead of it... and at a price you can afford! An all-electric radio that Victor is at last proud to trademark “His Master’s Voice.” A radio that is not merely a step ahead... but years ahead . . . in design, in principle, in idea! A radio that has a new simplified station- selector—super-automatic! A radio that introduces a marvelous new Victor improvement in tone reproduction. An all-Victor Radio . . . available in a hand- some console cabinet that you will be proud to own ... or, combined with the famous Victor Electrola . . . in one beautifully designed cabi- net no larger than your old Victrola . . . related and balaneed in true Victor style . . . each at- tuned to the same electro-dynamic reproducer. . . + two REAL Victor gp truments ... 80 in- geniously combined that you can switch from your favorite station to your favorite record... at the mere turn of a tiny knob . . . and for the first time . . . get tone quality from a radio FULL-VISION, SUPER-AUTOMATIC STATION-SELECTOR: All stations plainly aad per- visible . . . just slide the knob to right or left—and in comes the station you want! that matches the marvelous tone quality of the new Orthophonic Records! No less an achievement are the list prices! Only $150* for the Victor Radio Console . . . only $275* for the Victor Radio-Electrola. Remarkable values made possible by Victor’s great resources and manufacturing skill. Prove to yourself what radio engineers have already proclaimed . . . that here are Victor’s greatest achievements in radio and record en- joyment. Hear them today .. . set aside fifteen minutes for the musical thrill of your life . . . see and hear Victor’s latest contribution to musical America! Victor Talking Machine Company, Camden, N. J., U.S. A. Lo a SSS SSS Victor Rapio-Exvectrota RE-45 List Price $275 *Less Radiotrons ictor-Radio re) with Electrola