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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 17, 1907)
TREMARATHON MYSTERY A STORY OF MANHATTAN. ■ Y BURTON E. STEVENSON Author of "Ths Holladay Casa,” -‘Cadet* of Gascony/’ Eto. -«>*-«►-------”-----4 "Not a thing except some loose smok ing tobacco. There's one thing about the clothing, though—have you noticed? It's all summer clothing; see these linen trousers, now." Godfrey nodded, with drawn brows. "What's this?" he asked suddenly, holding up a swart object, shaped like a clam-shell, and halving In the same way along the sharp edge. "I don't know. A curio picked up at sea somewheres, perhaps. I have a theory that Thompson was a sailor.” "Why?” "Well, the hag In the first place—only a sailor would carry hls clothes that way. Then, put your head down In It and. under the tobacco, you'll smell the salt." Godfrey sniffed and nodded again. Then he got out hls knife. "Let’s take a look at the Inside of Mr. Thompson's curio," he said, and Inserted the blade. A twist and the sides unclosed. Sltn momls sprang back with a sharp cry of surprise as he saw what lay within, and even Godfrey's heart gave a sud den leap. For there, colled thrice upon Itself, lay a little viper, with venomous, tri angular head. Then, In an instant, Godfrey smiled. "It's not alive," he said. “Don't you see. It's some marvelous kind of nut." Simmonds approached cautiously and took another look. "A nut?" he repeated. “A nut? Well? that beats me!” And well It might, for In every detail the form was perfect. Godfrey looked at It musingly. "This may give us a clew," he said. "I shouldn't Imagine a nut like this grows In many parts of the world. Though, of course, a sailor might pick It up anywhere—from another sailor. In a slop-shop, even here In New York, perhaps.” He closed the shell together again and placed It In the bag, stuffing the rest of the clothing In after It. "Thompson had no very exalted Idea of cleanliness,” he remarked. "Hls clothing needs a visit to the laundry. And this Is all?" "Yes—he'd rented hls furniture from a store down the street. He had to pay hls rent In advance because he had so little baggage. That receipt's the only thing that's got hls name on It—oh, yes; there's a letter tattooed on hls left arm, but It's not a T—It’s a J.” "Which goes to show that hls name wasn’t Thompson. I think you're right, Simmonds, In putting him down ns a sailor. 1 thought so last night—In fact, I've already got two men making a tour of-the docks trying to find some body who knew him." nave your saia simmonas, smil ing. "That's like you. There's anoth er curious thing, though, about the clothing h* had on." "What Is that?” "Some of It's marked with one Initial, some with another. Not one piece Is marked with his.” "That Is queer," commented God frey; "but It Isn't half so queer as another thing. Why should a sailor, a drunkard, without a decent suit of clothes, rent an apartment that costa him forty dollars a month, when he could get a room for a dollar a week down on the Bowery, his natural stamping ground?" Slmmonds nodded helplessly. "That's so,” he said. "Unless," added Godfrey, "he thought he had to have some such place to work from. He could hardly have asked Miss Croydon to meet him In a Bowery lodging house." "No,” agreed Slmmonds; "but he needn’t have blown In forty dollars, either. He could 'a' got a nice room 'most anywhere uptown for five a week— A tap at the door Interrupted him. "Come In," he called. The door opened and the coroner’s clerk entered. "Mr. Goldberg sent the exhibits back to you," he said, holding out a parcel to Slmmonds. Slmmonds opened It and took out a pocket-book, a pipe, a knife, and some sliver money. "All right," he said, and signed a re ceipt. Godfrey waited until the door closed, then he rose and came over to Sim mo ruin's side. "There's something here that might help us," he said, picking up the pocket-book. "Those clippings—why, they’re not here!" Slmmonds smiled drily. "That's another thing I wanted to tell you. The clippings have been re moved." "Bemoved? By whom?” "That's a question. They were re moved some time between the moment we looked at them and the moment the coroner took charge." Godfrey Itared at him with startled eyes. "You remember," Slmmonds con tinued, "that after we looked at the pooketbook, I put it back In Thomp son's pocket.” "Yes—1 saw you do that." "We then went into the bedroom, and had a look around, leaving the body alone-" “With Miss Croydon,” said Godfrey, completing the sentence. "Precisely. Goldberg arrived a min ute or two later. Then he and I searched the body again. When he opened the pooketbook there was noth ing. In It except the rent receipt." Oodfrey sat down again in his chair. The inference was obvious. Irresistible. The clippings had been removed by Miss Croydon—they were the papers ‘ she had risked so much to get pos session of. Slmmonds and he had the secret under their hands and had missed It! It was not a pleasant re flection. His thoughts flew back to Miss Croy don. and he found himself again admir ing her. To have taken the clippings demanded a degree of bravery, of self control, amounting almost to callous ness. It seemed Incredible that she should have dared approach the body open the coat. • • • Then he remembered her half-falnt lng attitude when he had returned from the Inner room. At the lime, he hud thought the collapse natural enough. Now, It took on a new meaning, j "There's another thing.” continued Slmmonds. after a moment. "Here's 'the piece of pipe we found on the floor. Do you know where it came from?” “No—I was going to look that up" "It came from the radiator. The con nections were defective and a plumber Was replacing them. This Is a piece of pipe he had removed and left lying behind the radlutor. He remembers It distinctly. Do you recall the position of the radiator?" ‘ "Yes: It's against the wall opposite ithe bedroom door." . "Hxactly. Then the person coming krona that dooi must have crossed the room to get it. More than that, he mast have hunted for it or known it was there, because it was in the shadow behind the radiator. It couldn’t be seen unless one looked for it—I’ve tried it.” Godfrey paused to consider. Did you give these points to Gold berg?” he asked. "So, I didn’t think it would help matters any: besides, I didn't want to put Miss Croydon on her guard.” "Of course—though all this doesn’t actually implicate her.” "No; but it shows she knows more than she’s told us,” said Slmmonds doggedly. "I don’t think she’s been square with us.” Godfrey did not permit any trace of his inward perturbation to appear on his countenance; nevertheless he was seriously disturbed. He had hoped that no one but himself would suspect Miss Croydon’s lack of frankness. He felt a certain irritation against her—she should have been more careful; she should have foreseen that the clippings would be traced to her. She was rely ing too much on his forebearance. He must do bis best to control Slmmonds. 1 "Well, perhaps she hasn’t," he said I slowly, after a moment; but maybe she’s not much to blame for that, after , all. Anyway, we’s got to work at the case from the other end. We’ve got to identify Thompson first." “Yes,” agreed Slmmonds; “that’s our best hold. You’ll let me know If you find out anything?" "Of course,” said Godfrey, rising, and with a curt nod he went out and down the steps to the street. At the office he found two reports awaiting him. One was from the men he had sent along the docks—they had found no one who could identify the photograph of Thompson. The other was from Delaney, the head of the Rec ord's intelligence department. At 2 o'clock that morning, just before retir ing, Godfrey had ’phoned a message to the office: “Delaney—I want all the Information obtainable concerning the history of the Croydon family, to which Mrs. Richard Delroy and Grace Croydon belong.” This was the result: “Gustave Croydon, notary and money lender. No. 17 Rue d’Antln, Paris, re moved with his wife and young daugh ter about 1878 to Beckenham, Just south of London, England. Why he removed from France not known. Rue d’Antln has been completely rebuilt within last thirty years and only person there now who remembers Croydon Is an old no tary named Fabre, who has an office at the corner of Rue St. Augustin. He has vague memory that Croydon left Franco to avoid criminal prosecution of some sort. “Croydon bought small country place near Beckenham and lived there quiet ly In semi-retirement. Fortune appar ently not large. In 1891, mortgaged es tate for £2,000; mortgage paid In 1897. Religion, Catholic. Excellent reputation at Beckenham. "Eldest daughter, Edith, born In France, August 26, 1874. Educated at school there, but broke down from over study and returned to Beckenham, where she became Interested lri social settlement work. There met Richard Delroy, New York, who was making In vestigation of London charities. Mar ried him June 6, 1900, and went imme diately to New York. “Only other child, younger daughter Grace, born at Beckenham, May 12, 1880. Educated at home. No unusual Incidents til life, so fur as known. “Croydon and wife died, typhoid fever, 1901. Delroys came to England, and, after selling property and settling es tate took Grace home with them. Es tate. left wholly to younger sister, paid Inheritance tax on £7,500.” Godfrey read this through slowly, dwelling upon It point by point. "The skeleton," be said to himseir, "Is pretty plain—it lies concealed some where behind Croydon's departure from France. There must have been some unusual reason for that—a reason more serious, perhaps, than (his threatened prosecution—the clippings would tell the story. "But Is It worth while trying to dig It up? It wouldn’t be a difficult thing to do If the newspapers handled it at the time; but I don’t know,” and ho stared out through his window with drawn brows. "If it’s buried again. 1 believe I’ll let It rest—for the present, anyway,” and he whirled back to his desk. He wroto the story of the day’s de velopments and turned It In. "We've been lucky," said the city editor, with a gleeful smile, as he took the copy. “We’ve got photographs of all the principals." "Have we?” “Yes—-they cost $500. but they’re worth It. No other paper In town will have ’em." "That’s good." said Godfrey, but It was a half-hearted commendation, and he left the office In a frame of mind not wholly amiable. The meth ods of a popular newspaper are not al ways above reproach. "Thank heaveh,” he added to him self. his face clearing a little, "there’s nothing In my story to implicate either Miss Croydon or Mrs. Delroy—there’s no hint of the skeleton! I took care of that—which.” he concluded, with a I “I sent down to the employment bureau 1 for a white cook. He must be color-blind, *a» he aent me a green one.’* i grim smile, "1b niignty forbearing in (a yellow Journalist!" What further tests there were to be of his forbearance not even he sus pected! CHAPTER I. — A CHANGE OF LODGINGS. As a matter of course, the affair at the Marathon created a great public sensation. The papers overflowed with details, theories, suggestions to the police, letters from interested readers. Many of the latter were quite cer tain that they could quickly solve the mystery, but unfortunately private business demanded their whole atten tion; meanwhile, the stupidity of the detective force was a disgrace to the city; let the guilty parties he arrested without further delay, whatever theli position. It was remarkable how few accepted the simple theory which Sim tnonds had propounded; all of them chose to discern something deeper, more Intricate, more mysterious, and Miss Croydon Incurred much oblique reference. This, for the most part, took the form of scathing, even hysterica! polemics against the degeneration ol American society, the greatest peril threatening the health and prosperity of the republic. At It was with Rome, so would it be with America; luxury, sensuality, a moral code growing ever more lax, could have only one re sult. No doubt these vigorous correspon dents enjoyed themselves and Imagined that society quivered In consternation under the castigation. Certainly they formed a source of exquisite amuse ment to the readers or the papers. It has long been a habit of mine, when any particularly abstruse crim inal mystery Is before the public, to pin my faith to the Record. Its other features I do not admire, but I knew that Jim Godfrey was Its expert In crime, and ever since my encounter with him in the Holladay case. I have entertained the liveliest admiration of his acumen and audacity. If a mystery was possible of solution, I believed that he would solve It, so It was to the Record I turned now, and read care fully every word he wrote about tha tragedy. It is difficult for me (o explain, even to myself, the Interest with which I followed the ease, I suppose most | have a fondness, more or less unreal- | Ized, for the unique and mysterious, , and we all of us revolt some times ' against the commonplaces of every ; day existence. VVe had been having a protracted siege of unusually hard work at the office, and I was a little run down In consequence; I felt that I needed a tonic, a distraction, and I found It In "The Tragedy In Suita 14," as Godfrey had christened It. I was sitting In my room on tha evening of the second day after tha iffalr, smoking a post-prandial pipe and reading tho Record’s stenographic; report of the coroner’s inquest when there came a knock at my door and my landlady entered. She held In her hand a paner which had a formidable legal appearance. "Have you found another apartment, yet. Mr. Lester?" she asked. "No, I haven't, Mrs. Fitch." I said, "I'm afraid I've not been as diligent In looking for one as I should have been." "Well, I've just —* another no tice," and she sighed wearily. "They're going to begin tearing down the house day after tomorrow. I can’t find an other house, so I'm going to put my furniture In storage. I've told the men to come for It tomorrow." "All right," I said. "If I can't And an apartment to suit I will put my stuff in storage, too, and stay at a hotel for a while. I’ll know by tomor row noon. Mrs. Fitch.” "Very well. It does seem hard though," she added, pausing on the threshold, "that we should be the ones to suffer, when there’s so many other blocks they might have taken." "The residents of any of the othei blocks would probably have said ths same thing," 1 pointed out. “After all, I suppose this block was better than the others, or it wouldn’t have beet chosen." rne srrnieu SKepuuuiy, ctuu went uii her way to notify *ier other lodgers ; of the imminent eviction. We were martyrs to the march o» public improvement. The block ha<? been condemned by the usual legal j process, and an armory was to be j erected on the site. So there was noth ing left for us to do but move. I had hoped that Mrs. Fitch would find an- I other house somewhere in the neigh- j borhood and that I could stay with her; now, it seemed, I must search for other quarters, and at exceeding- j ly abort notice. To find comfortable ones, conveniently situated, and at the same time within reach of my modest Income would, I knew, be a problem not easy of solution. I settled back in my chair and took I up my paper again, when a sudden thought brought me bolt upright. Here was an apartment, two rooms and bath, just what I wanted, empty—and moreover, so situated that l should be admirably placed for close-at-hand study of the tragedy. I glanced at my watch—it was only half past sev en -and I hurried into my coat in a sudden fever of impatience lest some one should get there before me. Twenty minutes walk brought me to the Marathon apartment house, and as I stepped into the vestibule I saw sitting by the elevator a rod faced man whom I recognized instantly as Higgins, the Janitor. He rose as I approached him. "You have an apartment here to rent, haven't you?" I asked. "Not jest now, sir," he answered. • "There will be next week—if th’ walk in’ delegates leaves us alone. You. see, th’ house is bein' remodeled." "Oh," I said, more disappointed than I cared to show, "I thought perhaps there was one I could move into at : once. Next week won't do me any good." He moistened his lips and scratched his head, eyeing me undecidedly. I “May I ask your name, sir?’’ he said, at last. ! I handed him a card, which had also the address of my firm, Graham & Royce. He read it slowly. "We’ve got one apartment, sir," he said, looking up when he had master ed it; “two rooms an’ bath—but it needs a little cleaning up. When do y’ have t’ have it?" “I have to move in tomorrow," I answered, and I told him briefly why. "May I look at this apartment?" He hesitated yet a moment, then straightened up with sudden resol u ! tlon. "You kin see it if you want to, sir," 1 ho said; "but first, I must tell you that it’s soot fourteen, where they was a —a murder two days ago.” "A murder?" I repeated. “Oh, yes; I did see something about it in the pa pers. Well, that doesn’t make any dif* ference; I’m not afraid of ghosts." (Continued Next Week.) That Law Aciain. From the Success Magazine. For miles and miles the through passen ger train lias plodded along In the wake of the slow freight. The travelers growr Irks .me and even petulant. “Conductor," says one of the boldest of them, "why do you not get that freight to take a siding while we go by it?" "Under the new Hepburn law," explains I the conductor, sadly, "we are not allowed I to pass anything." Silence causes a lot less trouble than talk. “PICKING UP” DAIRY COWS. While traveling in Benton county last month I chanced to meet a dairyman who was ' picking up" cows. I asked him if he was successful in always finding profitable cows. He said It was getting more difficult every year to find good cows, for those who had them did not care to sell; and. about the only cows one could buy now, when going through the country, were second-rate Ones. He said that they were begin ning to raise their own cows, but this matter had been put off too long, and now many had to go out and pick up cows. A few years ago it was not diffi cult to tind good ones, but with so many going into dairying the supply has been inadequate. This dairyman also spoke about calf raising. He said lhat so long as dairymen made it a side issue, we need not expect much improvement in our herds froiti that source. Unless dairy calves were raised right one might just as well lake his chances on buying his cows, for the poorly fed calf will never amount to much. The dairyman W'ho expects to go ahead will not hazard his business by depending upon these “pick-ups.” SHRED FODDER FOR THE COWS Although large stores of hay have been secured for winter feeding, yet I we believe It will be good business i to put up a lot of nice fodder and | shred it. Many argue that they have i all the forage they really need, but in I many cases this consists of timothy hay, which might well be disposed of and shredded fodder used In its place. We do not advise cutting up a big field of corn and then allow It to stand out all winter, hauling In from day to day just what is needed for the day's feeding, but we do advise cut ting enough to feed the stock nicely through the winter. Cut when the corn is In the hard dent stage, and then when the shocks have dried out enough •un the crop through a hugker and jhredder, and get both the grain and {odder under roof before real winter weather comes on. Shredded fodder Is handy to feed, and It will make as much clear money as any product pro duced on the farm. The value in shred ding Is that the fodder can then be sept until late the next spring. In ;ood condition. When fodder stands out all winter In shock the greater part of Its value is lost by spring. GETTING READY FOR WINTER. Winter dairying will pay, providing sufficient feed has been secured and good accommodations are given the cows. It Is a mistake to try to winter rows on poor feed or Insufficient feed. There Is this about winter dairying; one must equip himself for it; and un less that has been done, don't fool away your time. Because you have a nice stackxof straw In the barnyard and will have plenty of stalk pasture after while don’t think you are prepared for win ter. But If you have plenty of clover or alfalfa hay, some bright corn fodder lr. stack and a good patch of mangels you are well fixed and can get along nicely without a silo. It takes good feed to produce good milk, and while a cow fed on straw and turnips might produce a fair quantity of milk, It would not he much better than water. Getting ready means putting In plenty of rich milk producing foods, cleaning up the stables (whitewashing and sweeping down the cobwebs), and lay ing In a big supply of bedding for the cows. SHOULD WOMEN MILK? As iv general proposition I should say that milking is not part of the wom an's work, hut there are times when it will come in very handy If she knows how to milk. On established dairy farms, where dairying Is made a busi ness, the milking is done by men minc ers, and all machine work Is done by men. and the women are usually given the work of caring for the utensils. Where farm butter making Is carried on the whole work Is too frequently done by the women, as the men are apt to look upon It more as a source of pin money for the women. Tills ques tion of “pin money" is quite elastic, for It frequently Includes dresses and hats and gloves for all the family as well ns groceries and other household wants. Tim nice thing about It is the cows made good and provided all theso things. But it Is hardly fair to put all this dairy work on one side of the house. Bring the milk to the house and then turn it over to mother and the girls. Then one need not feel any delicacy In having groceries included | In the pin money. DAIRY NOTES. On many farms "kitchen" dairying is done, that Is, the milk and cream are kept in the cupboard and the | churning is done near the kitchen ' stove. Here are difficulties which is hard to overcome. The odors from cooking, from the men smoking, will get into the cream and your customers are sure to find them in your butter. The first year milking the heifer is the time to train her to become a per i sistent milker. Feed her well, handle her carefully, milk at regular inter vals and milk her for ten or eleven months. If you feed turnips to your cows, feed them after you are through milking. Even then the turnip tlavor will some times be detected in the butter. Milk before you clean the cow and horse stables. Then remove the milk to the milk-house and you will miss ■ the dust and odors which arise when • cleaning and feeding is done. I If you think you can get pure cream by hand skimming just examine the | dirt left in a separator bowl after l skimming by machine. The separator will not remove odors but it does j catch most everything else. Without ensilage one should have * some other kind of succulent, food for ' winter feeding. Mangels and cab 1 bage are good, and for early feeding I pumpkins come in very nicely. It is ! almost impossible to keep up the milk I Mow on dry feed. Don’t complain about big eaters in your herd. The most profitable cow is the one that will consume large i.uantities of food and return the ! greater part of it to you in milk and butter fat. But a big eater that turns her food to beef ought to be sent to the I block VALUE OF GOOD SEED. This is a pretty good time to take stock and sum up what we have learned from our year’s work. This has been a season when the value of good, strong seed shows in I the outcome of the crop. I have been I talking with oat growers lately. Mr. I Samuel Ray, a very painstaking farm er in Ogle county, Illinois, sowed 1V4 j bushels of clean, well graded seed j oats last spring, per acre, and got a yield of sixty-three bushels per i acre of grain that will test thirty-two to thirty-three pounds per bushel. This is a yield of forty-two bush els for every bushel of seed sown. The variety was the "Sixty-Lay." Other growers, seeding with "Silver Mine” and "Big Four,” used three to three and one-half bushels per acre and I have not heard of one fifty bushel yield in northern Illinois. Mr. Ray’s seed was vigorous; it stood pun ishment, did not rast. It made a fine crop In face of ail adverse conditions. Of course, this variety is a small berry and would not require so much seed per acre as some of the larger sorts, but to the careful selection of this seed, careful work in drilling Ira, 1r due the fine yield. Another grower, Mr. Wesemara, of Cook county, Illinois, sowed thirty bushels of "Lincoln" oats on twenty acres—a rate of one and one-half bushels per acre. His neighbors laughed at him and simply predicted •■hat he would lose the use of his ground. This seed-bed was put in first rate condition, and the seed1 was drilled in. They showed up quickly In the drills and stooled so that they covered the ground. These oats have not been threshed, but It Is good for fifty to sixty bushels per acre, and, barring some bad weeds, these oats are of fine quality. These are only two Instances out of many I could cite to show that yield and quality of the crop does not neces sarily depend upon thick seeding, but rather upon seed of high germinating power, put into a good seed-bed. SELECTING SEED CORN OUT OF THE WAGON. Along this time of the year we hear much about selecting seed corn in the field. Many urge this practice, con tending that by observing the stalk one is enabled to select the most desir able seed ears. But really, what will nine out of ten men do when they select seed ears in this manner? They will select the most perfect looking ears, paying no attention to the conditions under which these ears were grown? Let us see what it has taken to produce these fine ears. 1 The growth of a fine stalk may be the result of the condition of the soil in the particular hill, and altogether likely it is not the result of any un usual quality in the seed grain. In other words, a fine ear found upon a stalk does not necessarily prove that the ear possesses such inherent quali-* ties as will produce uniform, well shaped ears. What we want is seed which will produce good crops undei abnormal conditions, for most anj seed will give a great crop whenevei the condition is favorable. For get ting the results I believe that well matured ears, selected as one unload* the wagon, will prove best. CANADA THISTLE IN OATS. The prevalence of Canada thistle L oats this year is really alarming. A ! neighbor of mine had as fine a field of oats as I have ever seen, this year The variety is the “Lincoln,/* for which he paid 75 cents a bushel for the seed last spring. The grain was stacked without a drop of rain and the whole crop was largely sought after for seed for next season. But Canada thistles have ruined the whole crop, so far aa being fit for seed. The thistles seeded with the oats and are now bound with the bundles; The whole trouble cam* from a small patch in one part of the field. Instead of going after them last season and keeping them down, the? were allowed to spread until now not ! only this fields but other fields of the i farm are sure to be Infested. Some careful work last year, even losing the crops growing on the spots in vaded by the thistles, w’ould have made \ a difference of $100 in the value of this I one oat crop, to say nothing about the work it will take now to kill out the pest. — FARM FACTS. Professor Mumford says: “The ex perlence of some stockmen Indicate that Stockers carried through the graz ing season on pasture will yield larger returns during that time if previously maintained through the winter on roughage than if fed a liberal ration of grain for several months before pas turing. The former method is often found most economical in localities which are naturally adapted to the growing of grass and forage crops, largely to the exclusion of grain. But under average conditions it is rarely found good economy to carry Stockers a considerable time on a mere main tenance allowance, even though the subsequent gain on grass be thereby I increased. The fall pigs will need good care now to get them well along before winter comes on. Milk or middlings wdll make good feed, and ground corn and oats, with the run of some pas ture, will be much better than con fining them in the yard with the fat tening stock. When fixing up the stables and sheds j for the stock, arrange for plenty of fresh air, but it should come in at the windows and not through crevices. Late sowing of grass seeds is not recommended. Seeding should be done early enough so that the grass can make a good start during the fall, and this cannot be done if seed is sown much after the middle of September. A correspondent asks whether aisike and timothy would work well together on a piece of bottom land. Yes. Some 1 times the land becomes too wet or I the clover too rank to make hay. Then I a good seed crop of timothy may be i taken. This was done this season on I much low land. — The advantage in cutting ensilage in short pieces is that it packs better in | the silo. When cut from one-half to : one incn lengths, it will pack quicker and more solidly than when cut one and one-half inches. Cows like the 1 short cut length the best. I Everything in Proportion. From Harper's Weekly. For many weeks the irritable mer chant had been riveted to his bed by 1 typhoid fever. Now he was convalesc ing. He clamored for something to eat, ; declaring that he was starving. "Tomorrow you may have something i to eat," promised the doctor. The mer | chant realized that there would be a restraint to his appetite, yet he saw, In vision, a modest steaming meal placed at his bedside. "Here i3 your dinner,” said the nurse next day, as she gave the glowing pa tient a spoonful of tapioca pudding, “and the doctor emphasizes that ev erything else you do must be In the same proportion." Two hourse later the nurse heard a frantic call from the bed chamber. “Nurse,” breathed the man, heavily, ”1 want to do some reading, bring m« a postage stamp." a Ready if Needed. A Chicago office boy, looking f • a> Job, was asked whether he used jror fane language. He replied: “I kin if necessary.” He got the place. F| *1"1 St- ▼itua' r/«..c* ana all !*«rvou« PImu, ■ I O Pernencntw I ured by Dr. lill .•'« Drul Nerra Raalorar. Sand for Free *8 trial bottla and. traatlaa. Kit* ii> M. KLI.NE, Ld., 931 Arch Streak. Philadelphia, Pa A Real Excuse. H. J. Conway, of Chicago, the president of the Retail Clerks’ International union,, advocated at the recent convention in St. Joseph the same pay for women as for men clerks. “When women,” said Mr. Conway after ward, “do the same work as men, they should get the same wages; And any one who argues that this is impossible seems to me at once as ungallant and as illogical as the famous husband of Paint Rock. “This husband was returning home from market late one Saturday night with his wife. The wife was burdened with a hug® market basket, a broom, a kit of mack erel-dear knows what all. As for the man, he carried nothing. “Coming to a steep hill the wife paused' and said reproachfully: “ ‘Jack, If you were a real man,* you’d help me carry some of these parcels.’ “Jack glared at her In disgust and scorn. “ ‘Aw. how can I?’ he growled. ’Ain’t I g*5>t both hands in my pockets?’ ” A Technical One. “The late Angelo Heilprin,” said a Phlla^ de-lphia scientist, “had a most learned and' a most lucid mind. He could not merely master a question—he could lay it so>clear ly before you that you, in a short while, became master of It, too. “Prof. Heilprin claimed that they who could not explain a subject perfectly did not know that subject perfectly. And he used to tell a story on this head. “He said two commercial travelers, on the way from Reading to Philadelphia, once got into an argument over the action of the vacuum brake. “ ‘It’s the inflation of the tube that stop® the train,’ said the first commercial trav eler. “ ‘Wrong, wrong!’ shouted the second. ‘It’s the output of the exhaustion.’ “So they wrangled for an hour, and then* on the train’s arrival In Philadelphia* they agreed to submit the matter for settlement to the engineer. “All In,” Judicially Defined. From Law Notes, In the recent case of State vs. Hennes sey, 90 Pac. Rep. 221, the Nevada supreme court gives a definition of the slang phrase “all in.” The question came up in connection with the admission in evidence of a dying declaration, the declarant’® statement that he was “all in” being re lied on to show that he was under a sense of impending death. The court said: “The expression ‘I am all in’ is one frequently made use of in this western country, and when used under the circumstances in question may, we think, be taken to have meant that the speaker considered his life was practically at an end.” EASY FOOD Ready for Instant Us* Withosw Cookiag:. Almost everyone- likes a cereal food of some kind at breakfast and supper, but the ordinary way of cooking cereal* results in a pasty mass that is hard to digest, and if not properly digested, the raw mass goes down into the intestinal tract where gas is generated and trou ble follows. Kveryone knows that good food prop erly digested keeps the body well, while poor food, or even food of good quality that is poorly prepared and not digest ed, is sure to bring on some kind of disease. The easiest food to digest In this line is Grape-Nuts, made from wheat and barley, and cooked thoroughly "at the factory, some 12 to 16 hours being con sumed in the different processes of prep aration. The food, therefore, is ready for instant service and the starch has been changed to a form of Sugar, so that it Is pre-dlgested and ready for almost immediate absorption. A Chicago young lady writes that she suffered for years from indigestion and dyspepsia from the use of food that was not suitable to her powers of di gestion. She says: “I began using Grape-Nuts, and I confess to having had a prejudice at first, and was repeatedly urged befor* I finally decided to try the food, but 1 have not known what indigestion is since using it, and have never been stronger or In better health. I have in creased in weight from 109 to 124 pounds,” People can be well, practically with out cost. If they will adopt scientific food and leave off the Indigestible sort. "There's a Reason.” Grape-Nuts Food Is crisp and deli cious to the taste. It should be served exactly as It comes from the package, without cooking, except In cases where 1; is made up Into puddings and other do serfs.—Hook of delicious recipes, and ( “The Road to Wkllvllle,” in pkg*.