* _THF Story of Francis Cludde A Romance of Queen Mary's Reign. BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. I 'HA FT ER VI.—CONTINU ED. "Never mind my baggage,” she an swered Imperiously. "1 have made oth er arrangements for It. Two or three things I know came on board last night. I want to start—to start at oner, do you hear?" The captain shook his head and said sluggish1;/ that it was Impossible. (Spitting or. the deck, he ground his heel leis ir- iy round a knothole. "Im possible," he repeated. "It would not be scan ir.shlp to start In a fog. When thr fog lifts, we will go. "Twill be all the «ame tomorrow. We shall lie at Leigh tonight, whether we go now or go V'hcn the fog lifts." "At Leigh?” "That is It. madam." "And when will you go from Leigh?" she cried Indignantly. "Daybreak tomorrow," he answered. "You leave it to me, mistress," he continued In a tone of rough patron age, "an l you will see your good man before you expect It." Hut, man," ahe exclaimed, tremb ling with Impotent rage, "did not Mas ter Bertram engage you to bring me across whenever 1 might be ready? Aye, and pay you handsomely for It? Did he not, sirrah?" To be sure, to be sure!" replied the giant unmoved. "Using seamanship and not going to sea In a fog, it It please you." "It does not please me," she re torted. And why slay at Leigh?" lie looked up at the rigging, then down at the deck, lie set his heel in the knothole and ground it round again. Then he looked at his question er with a broad smile. "Well, mis tress, for a very good reason. It Is there your good man Is waiting for you. Only," added this careful keeper ‘of a secret, “he bade me not tell any ore." She uttered a low cry, which might have been an echo of her baby’s coo ing and convulsively clasped the child more tightly to her. "He Is at Leigh,” she murmured, flushing and trembling, another woman altogether. Even her voice was wonderfully changed. "He Is really at Leigh, you say?” "To be sure!” replied the captain with a portentous wink and a mys terious roll of the head. "He Is there safe enough! Safe enough, you may b| l your handsome face to a rush light. And we will be there tonight." She started up with a wild gesture. For a moment she had sat down on a cask standing beside her and for got Ion our peril and the probability that we might never see Leigh at dll. Now, 1 have said, she started up. "No, no!" she cried, struggling for breath and utterance. "Oh, no, no! Let us go at once. We must start at once!" Her voice was hysterical In its sud den anxiety and terror as tlie con sciousness of our position rolled back upon her. "Captain, listen, listen!” she pleaded. “Let us start now. and my husband will give you double. 1 will promise you double whatever he said If you will chance the fog." 1 think all who heard her were moved, save the captain only. He rubbed his head and grinned. Slow' and heavy, he saw nothing in her prayer save the freak of a woman wild to get to her man. lie did not weigh tier promise at a groat. She was but a woman And being a foreigner he did not perceive a certain air of breed ing which might have Influenced a na tive. He was one of those men against whose stupidity Father Carey used to say the gods light In vain. When he answered good natureflly; "No. no, mistress. It Is Impossible. It would not tie seamanship," I felt that we might ms well try to stop the ebbing tide as move Mm from his position. The feeling was a maddening one. The special peril which menaced my companions. I did not know, but 1 knew they feared pursuit, and I had every reason to fear it for myself. Yet at sny moment, out of the fog which en circled us so closely that we could barely see the raft below, and the shore Ht all, might come the tramp of hurrying feet and the stern hall of the law. It was maddening to think of this and to know that w'e had only to cast not better do that?" Mistress Bertram did not understand hut lit her despair she obeyed the mo tion of my hand and mechanically walked to the side. The younger wom an followed more slowly. »n that 1 had to speak to her with some ourtness, bidding her make haste, for I was lii a fever until we were clear of the Whelp and the l.ton wharf. It had struck me that. If the ship were not to leave at onc“. we were now where In so much danger as on board. At large In the fog we might escape detrition for a tic. e. Our pursuers might as well look for a needle In a haystack as seek uk through It when once we were clear of the wharf. And this was not the • lid of thy Idea. i!Ut Tor the present It WHS enough. Therefore I took up Misti ess Anne very short. "Come." I ; «uiid, “he v|Ulek: l.et me help you " f, She obeyed and 1 was ashamed of .v my Impatience when at the fool of the ladder site thanked me prettily. It was , almost ilh good cheer In my voice and , « rebound of spirits that I explained as 1 hurrc'1 my companions across the raft wh;tt my plan was. liter The moment we were ashore I fell safer. The fog swallowed us up null k I? us '■ <; bibia says. The very hull of Hit Ship vanished from sight before ua i had gore half a dozen paces. I hat K never seen a I.ondon fog before, and ii g: me it seemed portentious and provide:) Hal—a m.-rvel as great as the crlmsoi hall which fell in the I.ondon gardeni to mark '.ter majesty's accession. Yet after till, without my liappj thought, the log would have availed u little. \t> aid scarcely gone a scon of yards before the cautious tread o sevt ml people hastening down thi strand toward the wharf struck m; ear. They were proceeding in silence and we, might not have noticed tliei ' «pproa t if the foremost had noi b; cliame tripped and fallen, vvhereupoi No doubt tli? women, watching me In anxious silence, were as curious about me. I still bore stains of country trav el. 1 was unwashed, unkempt, my doublet was torn, the cloak I had cast at my feet was the very wreck of a cloak. Yet l read no distrust In their i looks. The elder's brave eyes seemed | ever thanking me. 1 never saw her | Ups move silently that they did not i shape "Well done!'' Amt though 1 ; caught Mistress Anne scanning me once I or twice with an expression t could 111 Interpret a smile look its place the mo ment her gaze met mine. We has passed but were still in sight of Greenwich palace—as they told me— when the mist rose suddenly like a ! curtain rolled away, and the cold, i bright February sun. shining out, dis ! closed the sparkling river, with the j green hills rising on our right hand. ; Here and there on its surface a small ] boat such as our ow n moved to and i fro. and in the distant pool from which ' "e had come rose a little forest of masts. I hung on the oars a moment, I and my eyes were drawn’to a two masted vessel which, nearly half a mile j below us, was drifting down,, gently ; heeling over w ith the current as the I crew got up the sails. "1 wonder whith er she is bound." I said thoughtfully, j "and whether they would lake us on board by any chance." Mistress Remain shook her head. "I have no money." she answered sadly. "I fear we must go on to I.elgh if it be ■ any wa\ possible. You ate tired, and ' j no wonder. But what is It "" with a • I sudden change of voice. "What is the ■ matter.'" , ! I had flashed out the oars with a s!n • gle touch and begun to pull a3 fast as 1 ■ ; could down the stream'. No doubt my i idee, too, proclafflTtid.my discovery and awoke her fears. ‘ Look behind!” I mut tered between my set teeth. She turned and on the instant uttered a low cry. A wherry like our own, but even lighter—in my first glance up the river I had not noticed It—had stolen nearer to us and yet nearer, and now, throwing aside disguise, was in hot pur suit of us. There were three men on board, two rowing and one steering. When they saw that we had discov ered them, they hailed us In a loud voice, ar.l I heard the steersman's feet rattle on the boards as he cried out to his men to give way and stamped In very eagerness. My only reply was to take a longer stroke and pulling hard to sweep away from them. But presently my first strength died away, and the work began to tell upon me, and little by little they overhauled us. Not that I gave up at once for that. They were still some 60 yards behind, and for a few minutes, at any rate. I might put off capture. At the worst they were only three to one, and their boat looked light and cranky and easy to upset. So I pulled on. savagely straining at the oars. But my chest heaved and my arms ached more and more with each stroke. The banks slid by us. We turned one bend, then another, though I saw noth ing of them. I saw only the pursuing boat, on which my eyes were fixed, heard only the measured rattle of the oars in the rowlocks. A minute, two minutes, three minutes passed. They had not gained on us, but the water was beginning to waver before my eyes; their boat seemed floating in the air; there was a pulsation in my ears louder than (hat of the oars; I strug gled and yet I flagged. My knees trepn bled. Their boat shot nearer now, near er and nearer, so that I could read the smile of triumph on the steersman’s dark face and hear his cry of exulta tion Nearer, and then with a cry I dropped my oars. "Quick!” X panted to my companions. “Change places with me! So!" Trem bling and out of breath as I was, X crawled between the women and gained the stern sheets of the boat. As I passed the Mistress Bertram she cluLched mv arm. Her eyes, as they met mine, flashed fire; her lips were white. "The man steering!” she hissed between her teeth. “Leave the others. He Is Clarence, and I fear him!” I nodded, but still, as the hostile boat bore swiftly down upon us. I cast a glance around to see If there were any help at hand. 1 saw no sign of any. I saw only the pale biue| sky overhead and the stream flowing swiftly under the boat, r drew my sword. The case was one rather for despair than cour age. The women were In my charge, and. If i did not acquit myself like a man now, when should I do so? Bali, it would soon be over! There was an instant's confusion In tile other boat as the crew ceased row ing. and. seeing my attitude, and not liking it, changed their seats. To my joy the man who had hitherto been steering Hung a curse at the others and came forward to bear the brunt of the encounter. He was a tall, sinewy man, p st middle age, with a clean shaven face, a dark complexion and cruel eyes, So tie was Master Clarence! Weil, he had the air of a swordsman and a sol dier. I trembled for the women. "Surrender, you fool!" lie cried to me harshly. "In the queen's name, do you hear? What do you In this company?” 1 answered nothing, for X was out of breath. But softly, my eyes on his. I drew out with my left hand my hunt ing knife. If I could beat aside his sword. 1 would spring upon him and drive the knife home with that hand. So., standing erect in bow and stern, we faced one another, the man and the boy. the flush of rage and exertion oil my cheek, a dark shade on his. And si lently the boats drew together. Thought Is quick—quicker than any thing else in the world. I suppose, for In some drawn out second before the boats came together I had time to won der where I had seen his face before anl to rack my memory. 1 knew no Master Clarence, yet I had seen this man somewhere. Another second, and o way with thought! He was crouching for a spring. 1 drew back a little, then lunged—lunged with heart and hand. Our swords crossed and whistled—Just crossed—and even as I saw hts eyes gleam behind his point the shock of the two boats coming together flung us both backward and apart. A moment we reeled, staggering and throwing out wild hands. 1 strove hard to recover myself—nay. I almost did so—then I caught my foot in Mistress Anne's cloak, which she had left in her place, and fell heavily back into the boat. I was up in a moment—on my knees at least—and unhurt. But another was before me. As 1 stooped, half risen. I saw one moment a dark shadow aliove me, and the next a sheet or flume shone before my eyes, and a tremendous shock swept all away. I fell senseless Into the bottom of the boat, knowing nothing of what had happened to me. (Continued Next Week.) The Mississippi as a Seaboard. Herbert Quick in March Putnam's and The Reader: Is there any natural and dominating artery in the drainage of the continent, "the magnitude and extent of which marks It as the inevit able center of any system which we may adopt? The answer of every man with a map of the continent in his mind is that there is such a waterway, and that it Is the Mississippi river. This is the nation’s great asset in inland navigation. It must be the keystone of the arch of our waterways system, the backbone which must uphold out perfected transportation plan, the aorta of our Ideal traffic-circulation. The highest estimate ever advanced for a 30-foot channel from the gulf to the lakes is $34o,000.000, and this must be fully t>0 per cent over the mark. Will It pay? This, with the many, is the sole question. What shall we get for our money if we spend $300,000,000 to bring the ocean to the farm? B'lve billion dollars must be spent within a few years oh transportation account. In any case; for our congested railway conditions must be remedied. Slicing the continent through from Quebec to New Orleans with a new seubourd would cut through the congested freight yards like a surgeon's knife through a tumor, and extend its direct influence to every city from which truffle might be billed up or down the new naviga tion. Southern cotton, lumber and coal under the new rates would find their market enlarged many fold, and North ern corn, hay anil wheat would reach cheaply a hundred Southern cities now suffering for them. Our great lake ships would pass out into the gulf, re store to the salt seas our merchant mu rine and earn profits during winters now spent In Idleness. The seaboard, instead of being at New York or Uai j veston, would be at t’hicago. St. Louis I or Memphis. This Escaped Drowning. St. Joseph News-Press: The Bar bel -You and your brother are such young men 1 often wonder why you're so bald. Cuttinghim—If you'll promise not to say anything about it I II tell you. The Barber—I won't say a word. Cuttinghim (whispering)—Our hair fell out! The Great Eastern, whicli made her maiden trip just half a century ago. '.as not a financial success until she i ecame a cable repair vessel several years after. I ■ J I i . cwMT^.r w . W-MW Mr Min Nftiyyi'fjm. (Copyright, 190C. by W. ft. Hearst.) The bright glare of a blazing lar Barrel far out at sea, where the break ers dashed high on the Goodwin sands, was seei: by the coastguard on the bench as soon as it Hared. It Illumined the spectral shape of a large sailing vessel stranded on that dangerous British shoal. The southerly gale blew furiously, the rain poured in torrents. It was a wild tempestuous night, dark as pitch, with no gleam of moon or star to br ighten the sky, but there was a white stieeti oil the seaward horizon, when, the surf beat on the great bank of sand which has proved the ceme tery cf thousands of fine ships. The sturdy coastguard, on the alert for such signals of disaster, pressed the electric button which gave the alarm to the lifeboat house on the beach at Deal. The crew responded to the call, and despite the fury of the storm, a little knot of curious people gathered at the edge of the sea to see the lifeboat launched. Among thorn Was ’oil'* young woman, the sister of the. captain of the volunteer crew of the lifeboat, whom a sense of Impend ing disaster had induced to accompany her brother and see him embark. “Why so nervous, Nora dear?" laughed Dick Satterthwaite, as the im pulsive girl clung to him Just as lie was about to embark. "This will make my twentieth trip and on each we have saved life.” So saying he tore himself from the embrace of the trembling girt, and climbing Into the lifeboat gave the sig nal for the launch. In a few minutes the buoyant craft was battling with the big naves and steering a course for the blazing beacon on the deck of the stranded vessel. Fiercely the gale blew and strident, was its shriek, as once clear of the breakers the crew of the lifeboat set the lugsall, the direc tion of the wind being such as to al : most washed ana Mown out of them, j they descended from their tempest - l stricken aerie aloft and stood by for I an opportune moment to leap into the i sea. ! The coxswain deftly sheered the life boat within a fathom of the side of the 1 wreck, where the raging waves seethed \ and swirled. Prave men watched to save the men as they jumped for their lives. One heroic fellow essayed the plunge. A few vigorous strokes and he I was grasped and hauled safely aboard the lifeboat. Ills successful example ! stimulated die rest. Nine others, all j that survived, were rescued The coxswain had been so actively engaged with his steering oar inkeeping the lifeboat cleat of tlie wreck that lie had no time to look after the rescued. But when the last mail was hauled aboard, the anchor hoisted and the life boat headed back for Deal, he relin quished the helm to a trusty member j of his crew and went among the men whose rescue was due to his pluck and skill. He produced his brandy flask and gave each enfeebled being a “nip.” One man ill the gloom of the storm struck him as being familiar. Opening a little flash ,n which he kept his wind matches safe from the wet, lie touched off the fuse of a blue light. Itp fire shone out origh‘ and its pale glare flashed on tile face of his sister's sweet heart, Harry Hobden! The penetrating spirit revived the sunken man, but not sufficiently' lor him to recognize his old chum, whose duty railed him away im mediately to take the helm of tlie life boat. Nora was waiting for her brother's return. Cn t ie ores o a swirling eom | ber the life! oat \va-' hurled onto tile I beach. A big crowd hauled her up. The j rescued seamen were taken out. Sat | terthwaite had reserved one pleasure ! for himself. He kept Hobden aboard ) till the last. Nora's lover had fully re« lowr her to sail for the wreck. In a little while she had disappeared in the wild smother of the storm and Nora sought shelter In the lifeboat house to watch and wait for the return of her brother, for whose safety she fervently and tearfully prayed. Nora Satterthwatte was an orphan of 120. who kept house for her only brother, Dick, a sturdy young business man of eight and twenty, the coxswain of the ’ifeboat crew, as brave and dar ing a man as ever maneuvered a craft In the boiling surf of the Good wins. Very proud was pretty Nora of her stalwart brother, whose prowess had won him man medals of the Royal Humane soetety. Ordinarily she was a bravo and hearty youug woman, who looked on the brighter side of things and sent her brother off to his sea duty v ith a cheery word and en couraging smile. But on this occasion she felt unaccountably nervous and low spirited. This may have been be cause her sweetheart, Harry Hobden, mate of a bark in the t'hina trade, was lour overdue. The Firefly was now 100 days out from Hong Kong, and fears were felt for her safety. Nora had by no means given up her lover for lost, but she was anxious about hir., and when the sudden mid night summons called oul the lifeboat’s : crew her feelings were too much for her. She wrapped herself up In her warmest cloak and followed her broth er to the bench, and with palpitating heart gazed at the boat lighting with the sea until it vanished in the murky gloom of the night. Meanwhile the lifeboat had reached the wreck The greu* white combers were dashing her to pieces, tearing at ! her until she had lost al! semblance i of a ship. Tlie seas breaching over her i battered deck had forced the crew j aloft, into the maintop, where they ! clung waiting for the end. The burn ing of blue lights ashore assured them that their fl: .re had been seen, but even the most sanguine scarcely dared to hope that nueeor could come out to them in th. teetu of a tempest so j blustering i nd a sea so raging. The lifeboat anchored ahead of the I wreck and v-ored away rope until she j was abreast of the ship, but of such I a distance ; leeward that there was no danger of being dashed against her. The men in the rigging of the wreck 1 did not see the lifeboat until her cox swain lig' ted a b'oe light, whose spec tral glare illumined the boat plunging 1 in the raging and seething salt spume, ! its weird flame playing on the spray | drenched crew, each with his eorlt life belt round his waist and a yel low sou’wester on his head. The only chance of rescue for the sailors on the wreck was to make a daring plunge into the watery abyss and try to svvi.n across the yeasty ; chasm whirl, divided the ship from lilt lifeboat. The coxswain, with the Iona steering sweep in It la nervous grasp ' stood ready to sheer tte boat us dose to the wreck as he elated. The seantet: aloft watched their chance for a smoott spell—that is. an Interval when tht raging waves relaxed* for a while titeii ferocity. Slowly, tor the iife was al i vivied by this time, and as he sprang I out of the lifeboat immediately after I'Nora had clasped her arms round her ! brother’s neck, Dick untwined them and said; "Nora, iny dear, I have brought your sweetheart ashore. Doesn’t he deserve a welcome, too?” In a moment the two lovers eim braced. Strenuous Life Pays. From the St. Paul Dispatch. It is startling evidence of the effect or Improved sanitary method* that, where the average age at death of persons dying in 1875 was 18 years. It is now 32. The I usual length of life has been doubled, ao I cording to some figures compiled by mu nicipal engineering, which show the above result in Che ago, between 1875 and 1905, and a reduction of the death rate from 23.88 per thousand to 14.7J. Vet that Latter figure is very high, compared with 9.8 In St. Paul in 1908. The greatest saving of life by clrio cleanliness is, as mighc naturally be ex pected, among children under 5 years of age. Where there were 355 to the thou sand dying in 1890, in the whole United I States, there were only 308 in 1900. Better | methods of treating infantile diseases and i the general advance in medical scienc# are great factors In this result, which goes without saying, but It is also re I markable that the reduction In deaths I continues up to the age or 35. From that ! time on, there is a groat proportion of (deaths, which is natural, as peo-ple nuuat I die some timt. Some timid persona havo suggested that I the strenuous lite of today is killing ofT the human race and pointed to the great ; er frequency of deaths above 35 years of (age. It is an answer to that statement I that some of those lives saved under 35 j year* must be ended after passing that age, but that Is not the only evidence on (the question. 1.1 1S7C only 3.7 per cent, of those who died liad reached the age of 80, while in 1905 the percentage above that age was 19.8. There were as many persons : over 80 years old In 1905 as there were ( i over GO in 1875. It is a marvelous record. | Within a quarter of a century persons ! over 80 have become as common as those over GO used to be. If the active life has had any injurious effect upon the vitality of the people, that Influence must have been more than over come by greater knowledge, wLeiy ap plied. Jt Is certainly open to dispute whether Increased intensity of life has had any tencien *y to shorten longevity. On the contrary • that disposition may have prolonged tho existence of the peo ple. From the Somerville Journal. Alice—Are you sure he is a college i man? Maud—Why, yes; what made you ; doubt It? Alice-Why. he never uses any slang. From Ti:-Bit*. Bill—These motor car drivers seem ; to think the ordinary pedestrians art beneath them. i Bob—Well, too ofteu they &r* - Time and Motion. From the Philadelphia Ledger. A traveler, finding that he had a couple of hours in Dublin, called a »ab and told the driver to drive him around for two hours. At first all went | well, but soon the driver began to whip [ up liis horse so that they narrowly en j caped several collisions. “What's the matter?” demanded the passenger, “Why are you driving so recklessly? I’m in no hurry.” “Ah. g'wan wid yez.” retorted the cabby. "D’ye think I’m goin’ to put in the whole day drivin’ you around for two hours? Gltap!” Boston i« in hard luck. Just as the city 's* recovering from the financial panic it Is struck with a shortage of the beari crop. ' • . Canada’s new transcontinental rail way from Moncton on the Atlantic to Prince Rupert on the Pacific, a distance of rather more than 3.000 miles, is fully under way and is to be completed by December 1, 1911, at cost of $200,000, 000. That earthworms as well hs squirrels may aid the forester is the novel sug gestion of an American naturalist. Dry* maple seeds are drawn Into worm bur ro ws, where they sprout, and it is be lieved that some of them must survive |n favorably moist seasons. Attention homeseekers, 320 acres free government land for farming and graz ing. Millions of acres to choose from. Fine soil. Water plentiful. Send 2r. cents in stamps for full information. Wiebko & Co., locators. Miles City, Mont. Several companies have been organ ized of late to raise coffee, sisal, and cattle in German Last Africa. Ostrich farming is also receiving attention. Al falfa is raised as food for the birds. The total value of the stone product of the country in 1906 was $66,378,794. an increase of $2,370,046 over that of 1905. and in increase of $42,413,565 over that of 1896. The Earth-Hour. The earth was made in twilight, and tha non r Of blending dusk and dew is still her own. Soft as it < omes with promise and with power Of folded heavens, lately sunset-blown. Then we who know the bitter breath of earth. Who hold her every rapture for a pain. Vet leave the travail of celestial birth To wipe our tears upon the dusk agalru But vain: the spirit takes, in sovereign mood. A sure revenge, as in some tree a?iart A whippoorwill sets trembling all the wood— The silence mends more quickly than tha heart —Charles L. O’Donnell, in the April At lantic An Irish Answer. Washington Star: "Secretary Oor telyou was discussing." said a New York broker, "a question of finance during the panic. He broke off to tell a story. He said he was reminded of the Irish farmer on the day to the cattle fair. " 'Where are you going, ray man?* said an English tourist, stopping this agriculturist. " 'To Waterford fair, your honor,' waa the answer. "The Englishman looked approvingly at the heifers the other was driving. “ ‘And how much do you expect to get for your beasts at Waterford fair?" he asked. “ Sure, an’ if I get £S a head I shan’t do badly.’ said the Irishman. “ 'Ah. that’s a sample of your coun try.' said the Englishman severely. "Take those heifers In England and you’d average £14 a head for them.’ "The Irishman laughed. " Just so, yer honor.’ he said, ‘and if yez were to take the Eake of Kill arney to purgatory yez would get a guinea a drop ’ " THEY GBOW krtwl Hon»i»r kh:I 4'laeerfatueaa from Right Food. Cheerfulness is like sunlight. It dis pels the clouds from the mind as sun light chases away the shadows of night. The good humored man can pick up and carry off a load that the man with a grouch wouldn’t attempt to lift. Anything that interferes with good health is apt to keep cheerfulness and good humor in the background. A Washington lady found that letting cof fee alone made thiugs bright for her. She writes: “Four years ago I was practically given up by my doctor and was not ex pected to live long. My nervous sys tem was in a bad condition. “Hut I was young and did not want to die, so 1 beg.iu to look about for th« cause of my chronic trouble. I used to have nervous s|»lls which would ex haust me and after each spell it would take me days before I could sit up in a chair. "1 became convinced my trouble was caused by coffee. I decided to stop it and bought some Postiuu. "The first cup. which I made accord ing to directions, had a southing effect on my nerves and l liked the taste. For a time I nearly lived on Postum and ate little food besides. 1 am to day a healthy woman. "My family and relatives wonder if I am the same person I was four years ago. when l could do uo work on account of nervousness. Now I am doing my own housework, take care of two babies—one twenty, the other two months old. I am so busy that I hard ly get time to write a tetter, yet I do it all with the cheerfulness and good humor that comes from enjoying good health. "I tel! my friends It Is to Postum l owe my life to-day." Name giveu by Postum Co.. Battle Creek. Mich. Bead “The Road to Weil, viile,’’ iti ykgs. “There's a Reason."