J RED PEPPER AN ELIXIR $
From the Kansas City Star.
How To Beat Osier Theory.
Fat red pepper.
Eschew black pepper, tea and coffee.
Do not "stuff."
Drink a gallon of water every day.
Breathe deeply.
Keep out of doors as much as pos
sible.
• That Is the basis of the longevity
rules of Dr. W. P. Horton, Cleveland
physician, who is 60 years old, but
looks 40. He says he "feels 30,” and
on the old theory that "woman, poor
thing, is as old as site looks, but a
man's just as young as he feels," he
savs he is only 30.
Dr Horton is "husky," clear eyed
and the glow of health is reflected In
his cheeks.
"I havo been making a study of peo
ple for 40 years,” said Dr. Horton.
"The trouble with most of them Is
that they 'exist' too fast. They don't
live. In these days we don't really eat.
We swallow predigested foodB. We
drink tea, coffee and other stimulants
1n ever increasing quantities. We ex
ist In overheated, steam heated atmos
phere We spend too much time In
stuffy, unventilated street cars and not
enough in the open air.
"Our children skate In Indoor rinks,
our men play pool and poker In smoke
tilled rooms, our women play bridge In
close drawing rooms. If there was more
walking to school by children, walking
at least part of the way to office by
men and walking to market by the
Women we would all be better off. This
artificiality is telling on us. Instead of
controlling our muscles and nerves, our
muscles and nerves control us.
'Such stimulants as coffee and tea
contain Ingredients, ' such as tannin,
which close the glands which contain
the fluids of life. These ingredients are
tontalned In white and black pepper as
t ell as In tea and coffee. Red pepper,
however, has the opposite effect. It
.opens the glands and keeps the life
llulds racing within us. In addition, it
.'rentes a thirst for water, which, by the
.way. Is about as near the 'waters of
jrouth' or the ‘elixir of life, as has been
found. It Is almost impossible for
knvone to drink too much water. The
body cannot be flushed too oftan.
Drink more water and eat less food,
even of the right kind, and you'll see
how much better off you are both
physically and mentally."
The Rock Island.
From ths Wichita Kagle.
Twenty years ago there was no flnet
railroad property In the west than the
Rock Island. Its equipment was first
,'lsss. Its road bed the best. Its manage
ment unexcelled. Yesterday It went Into
the hands of receivers. So completely
llsordered Is the financial fabrlo of the
property, that an examination proves that
.he holding company, the head of the cor
f ora to body, has vanished. The Rock
sland company, which owned the Rock
island Railroad company which owned the
Rock Island Railway company, has disap
peared By the creation of euccesslre cor
porations by Inserting wheels within
Wheels, by uncontrolled Issues of stock
and their manipulation, the system was
averloaded. The ratls, cars, engines, ter
minals, right-of-way remain. They belong
to the bond-holders. Potentially the roaa
*.* greater physically than It was 20 years
ago Its territory Is larger and more fully
levcloped. With betterments In rail, road
bed and equipment. It can be, In efficiency,
the road It was 20 years ago. But the
Jnoney which a shipping and travelling and
• n investing public put Into the road for
'Its betterment Is water that has gone
pver the dam forever. If the Rock Island
had remained under the control of prac
tical railroad men, every cent which the
public gave, would have returned to It In
rervlce. The road fell under the control
•of speculators, who returned the public
Ittle. squeezed the road dry, and threw
the husks to the bondholders. The device
Js not new; It is old. Precisely the same
thine has occurred before: It will occur
»galn 'Die public has paid the price be
fore. Ir paying now, and will pay again.
Tt Is the chief wonder of a wonderful age
that the public continues to ahrlnk from
public ownerahlp and goes on paying for
a public service the toll of private exploi
tation.
Preventable Railroad Wrecking.
From the New York World.
There ought to be a way to prevent
such performances ns have led to the
Rock Island receivership. There Is a
way.
The Ftock of this great railroad prop
erty’ was once gilt edged and sold around
$2U0 a share. It fell Into the hands of a
clique of unscrupulous speculators who
used the high credit of the property to
manufacture over $270,000,000 of new se
curities. which have now been practical
ly wiped out. Through the agency of the
New York stock exchange some $160,
000,000 of wlnd-and-water stock was
worked off on the public and otherwise
used in one of the biggest swindling op
erations ever related to that Institution.
The road came to be operated primarily
for th?se purposes and secondarily for
transportation purposes.
We have government regulation of In
terstate railroads on a greut variety of
points more or less essential. We have
no government regulation of such roads
on the particularly essential point of cap
ital inflation, which means speculative
control, which in turn means an exhaus
tion of the property for temporary spec
ulative effects.
it makes no difference whether the cap
ital inflation is direct or as with the Rock
island, effected through holding compa
nies. The one can be prevented as easily
as the other. The proposition of giving
to the Interstate Commerce commission
this essential measure of control has been
before congress for years and neglected.
How many more railroads are going to
be wrecked through swindling specula
tive inflation before congress Is moved
to action?
Tno services of about 70.000 persons
are required to take a census of this
country.
1****++*+***+******+++*++*
4 “LITTLE GRAFTERS" AND 4
THE "HIGHER UPS” ♦
4 From the Indianapolis News. 4
y There Is, as far as we know, not 4
4 a case on record In which the ‘ big 4
4 men," the men who Inspired crime 4
4 and profited by It, ever made a serl- 4
4 ous attempt to protect their cor- 4
4 rupt and criminal tools. That -4
4 would, Indeed, be In violation of 4
4 the rules of the game. The little 4
4 men do the work, assume all the 4
4 responsibility, and take whatever 4
4 punishment comes—and keep si- 4
4 lent as to the complicity of other 4
4 higher-ups. That, we say. Is the 4
4 rule of the game. It Is the same as 4
4 In the old days when the king re- 4
4 pudiated the act of an agent, even 4
4 if he had ordered It. when It was 4
4 found that the monarch would auf- 4
4 fer because of It. And the agent 4
4 expected nothing else. 4
4 In cases of politloal crime, the 4
4 bosses, so far from protecting their 4
4- agents, invariably expect to be pro- 4
4 tcoted by them. And they are not 4
4 often disappointed. Nothing U 4
4 more astounding than this self-aae- 4
4 rlflclng loyalty. In "days of old” 4
4 the barons used to give a full equlv- 4
4- a lent for the services performed by 4
4 their retainers. But things have 4
4 changed. The modern barone de- 4
4 numd that their retainers shall not 4
4 only work and steal for them, un- 4
4 der their orders, but also bear the 4
4 penalty for the crimes committed 4
4 at the command of the barons. It 4
tie expected that the retainer shall 4
not only do the dirty work of his 4
•4 overlord, but suffer In his stead— 4
4 and in abject alienee. 4
4 Surely by this time the little peo- 4
4 pie must realize that there Is no 4
4- (oislble protection for them. When 4
t exposure comes they are Immediate- 4
ly dumped. 4
-4 4
er-44’444-4’44 A^-e-444-44 44-444’4-*’4-r
THE THREE SISTERS.
tvonyrigin, iHia, oy me .ucciuro j^ewa
l>ai>er Syndicate.)
Hans and Gretchen were sitting be
side the fireplace one very cold night
watching their last stick of wood burn.
‘‘What shall we do but freeze?” asked
Hans; “now that our last stick is al
most gone; there Is no one to help us
and we are too old to go out to work?”
“We shall be cared for,” replied
Gretchen; “X feel sure of that. Some
ono Is knocking at the door,” she said.
“Good evening!” said a cheery voice,
and a girl dressed in white came into
the room. Her dress looked like the
enow, all sparkling with little crystals
and her hair fell over her shoulders
like spun gold.
She hurried to the fireplace and
touched the dying fire with a bright
staff she carried in her hand.
The fire blazed and warmed the room.
Then with the same staff she touched
the woodbox that stood beside the fire
place and It was filled with wood.
Next she went to the closet and filled
all the shelves with food, and when
she started toward the door the house
was comfortable, and there was food
enough to last some time.
"Who are you?” asked Hans, who
had been watching this shining crea
ture with wondering eyes.
“I am the Fairy of Faith,” was the
reply. "You will do well to profit by
the example Gretchen set you, and have
a little more faith,” and with theqe
words she went and closed the door.
“This Is all very well,” said Hans,
the next day, when he and Gretchen
were Bitting by the fire after a good
dinner, “but where shall we get more
when this Is gone?”
Oh! I hope the winter will soon be
over now,” said Gretchen, “and the
summer will not be so hard for poor
folks.”
Hans planted his garden when the
spring came, but the rain came also,
and one day he sat grumbling In the
kitchen. "Where Is your sunshine you
hoped for?” he asked. “All the vege
tables will be spoiled, and we shall
starve this winter.”
“Do try to look on the bright side,”
replied Gretchen. “I hope the sun will
come out soon, and then you will see
we shall have plenty and to spare this
winter.”
But Hans would not see anything but
disaster ahead, and that night he ate
his supper In silence, with a very black
Innklmr fat's*
“Some one Is knocking at the doer,”
said Gretchen.
"It Is the wind,” replied Hans, “who
would be out In this rain?"
But the knocking came again and
Hans opened the door.
A girl entered, dressed In garments
like the sun, so bright and warm that
they filled the room with a feeling of
gladness, which even Hans, with his
doubting spirit, felt.
"Who are you?" he asked.
" PAPER IN THE KITCHEN. ~
paper Syndicate.)
The kitchen might well be literally
crowded with paper of various sorts. If
all its uses are taken Into count when
the wise housekeeper Is thinking of
economies.
To begin with, a lining of newspaper
to the dust box Is good. This lining can
be destroyed dally when the contents
of the box are burned. The garbage
can, too, can be lined with newspaper,
and all bits of refuse that are put Into
It can be wrapped In newspaper for the
sake of further prevention of odors.
When grease is spilled on the. kitchen
stove, the best way to get It oft Is to
ruh It quickly with some bundled up
newspaper. So a supply of papers cut
In quarters should be neatly placed in
a cupboard.
Old magazines are used by some laun
dresses for Iron stands, although It Is a
/very good plan to stand the Iron on
some metal contrivance, as the scorch
ing paper smells. Moreover, old maga
zines ought to be sent to hospitals or
to friends, where they can be further
enjoyed.
A roll of paper toweling In the kitch
en Is always useful. These towels, if
they are liked, can be used for hand
towels. Moreover, they can be used to
spread on a taDle to hold fresh bread
or cake, they can be used to dry fruit
and vegetables that have been washed,
lettuce and celery can be wrapped In
them when they are put In the refrig
erator to chill and a dozen uses will
occur to every housekeeper who tries
them.
There are on the market paper dish
cloths that are also very sanitary. They
are cheap, and after they have been
used a few times they should be de
stroyed.
Of course, plenty of waxed paper
should be on hand, for on It candles and
various other confections can be
drained, and It can be used under cakes
and for linings for cake tins. For a
cake that requires very long cooking,
like a fruit cake, three or four layers
of the paper should be used.
Some of the shops sell waxed paper
discs already cut for lining layer cake
pans, but It is not difficult to cut these
If you have time.
Always have some brown paper for
draining croquets and other dried food.
This should be fresh brown paper,
bought for the purpose, as that which
comes around bundles may not always
be clean. A few small sheets of blot
ting paper, too, can be used for drain
ing fried foods.
♦T-t ♦♦
♦ WORD GEMS SCRATCHED ♦
♦ ON WINDOWS OF INNS ♦
♦ ♦
From the London Tlt»BIts.
Throughout the country, particularly In
the smaller towns and villages, there still
remain many Inns and old taverns on
whose wlndowpanes have been scratched
rhymes, verses, and epigrams by people
who afterwards became, or who were at
the time, moro or less famous.
The poet Burns was what might be
termed a great "offender" In this respect
one wonders where he procurred the
necessary diamond—and several of his
glass-borne rhymes have been preserved
to this day. It was on a window of the
old Globe Inn, Dumfries—a favorite re
sort of Ills—that he Inscribed the well
known tribute to the beauty of the young
daughter of the factor of Closeburn es
tate, near Elllsland:
O lovely Polly Stewart,
O charming Polly Stewart.
There's not a flower that blooms In Bny
That's half so fair as thou art.
On another occasion the t>oct was dining
at the Inn at Moffat, when "the charm
ing lovely Davies" of one of his songs
rode by, accompanied by a lady tall and
portly. A friend who was with him asked
why God made the one lady so large and
the other so little. Whereupon Burns
scratched the following on the pane at
his elbow:
Ask why God made the gem so small.
And why so huge the granite?
Because God meant mankind should set
The higher value on It.
No one has apologized more prettily fo:
those of "scrimplt stature."
On an Inn parlour window at Mold. Ir
Flintshire, are the following lines, which
are attributed to Sheridan:
Were I to curse the man I hate
From youth till 1 grow old.
Oh, might he be condemned by Fate
To live his life In Mold;
while on a pane of glass In the parloui
window of the Red Idon at Henley, Shen
stone, the English poet, scratched th«
following:
I fly from pomp, I fly from plate!
I fly from Falsehood's specious grin!
Freedom I love, and form I hate.
And choose my lodgings at an Inn.
(Vhoe'er has travelled life's dull round,
Whate'er his stages may have been.
May sigh to think he still has found
The warmest welcome at an Inn.
A verselet, which Is both amusing ant
true, may be seen on a wlndowpane In i
hostelry In the Lake district. In the neigh
bourhood of the I.angdale Pikes. It run:
as follows:
Little bits of Langdales,
Little bits of Pikes.
Make the little tourists
Walk their little bikes.
Advertisement not Infrequently finds i
place among the jingling periods of i
pithy chyme, as Is evident from the prac
tlcal advice given below. The landlori
himself claims te the authorship of th
lines, which are both original and amus<
lng In stylo:
Should you start with your clothes
A size or two large,
You will find when you've dined at this Inn
Your buttons fly off like a cavalry
charge,
And you'll have to make fast with a pin:
Don’t grin!
But be sure lay a pin or two In.
The following Inscribed on the coffee
room window of a Thames-side tavern
was promptly removed by the landlord,
who, however, still preserves the cut-out
pane as u curiosity behind the bar:
I told the waiter James
To fetch mo for my pickin’
Some Beaune of '87
And a tender little chicken.
He took my order In a trice;
But as I hope for heaven,
The wine was bottled In the spring,
The bird was 87.
A Drunken Stock.
Prom the New York World.
The common stock capitalization of the
Bethlehem Steel company is $15,000,000
par value. At one time In yesterday’s
market this body of stock was valued at
$19,200,000; at another time it was val
ued at $2,550,000 more. In the live hours
of trading on Tuesday it was worth at
one time $1,800,000 more than, it was at
another time. It has fluctuated nearly
$1,000,000 between sales. It has fluctu
ated millions of dollars between hours of
trading. And It pays no dividends.
This is about the worst case of Intox
ication ever known to affect a security
j in the experience of the New York stock
I exchange. The celebrated debauch of
Northern raeiflc In the corner of 1901
was over In a few hours. The 30-polnt
manipulation In Rock Island lasted for
little more than as many minutes. But
Bethlehem Steel goes reeling from curb
to curb and bouncing from floor to celling
and through the roof day after day. It
Is selling at the highest prices ever
quoted for a stock yielding no Income,
and estimates of its value as a future
sober and industrious citizen are as wide
apart as its stretches of leg to keep right
side up In the mean time.
Ah an incident of the present specu
lative revival, Bethlehem Steel will be
long remembered. Mr. Schwab has given
the Wall street market the most exciting
gamble of Its life. But, If this drunken
stock does not sober up soon. It will be
In order for the exchange, on behalf of
the public safety thereabouts, to see that
It Is “run in'' and put to bed for a sober
ing up.
4 THE THING THAT LASTS- 4
4 By Edmund Burke. 4
4 It has pleased Providence to 4
4 place us In such a state that we 4
4 appear at every moment to be 4
4 upon the verge of some great 4
4 mutations. 4
4 There Is one thing, and one 4
4 thing only, which defies all muta- 4
4 tlon; that which existed before 4
4 the world, and will survive the 4
1 4 fabric of the world itself; l mean 4
4 Justice; that Justice which, cm- 4
4 anatlng from the divinity, has a 4
4 place In the breast of every one of 4
4 us. given us for a guide with re- 4
4 gard to ourselves, and with re- 4
4 gard to others, and which will 4
4 stand after this globe is burned 4
l 4 to ashes—-our advocate, our ac- 4
L 4 cuser before the great Judge, 4
4 when He comes to call upon us 4
! 4 tor the tenor of a well spent life. 4
1 4 4
> ♦•♦4444444 ♦♦ ♦»♦»♦♦»♦♦♦ ♦♦»»T
i am me * airy or nope, come ro neip
you, although you do not deserve It,
for poor Gretchen has to bear your
grumbling, and still she looks on the
bright side, and hopes for better
times. Your garden will please you in
the morning, but it Is really for Gretch
en that I came. Be of good cheer,” she
said to Gretchen, as she went out.
The next morning Hans found the
sun shining when he awoke, and the
vegetables grew in abundance, so that
when winter came they had more than
enough for their need and plenty of
wood to keep warm.
One day. when the snow was on the
ground, and it was very cold, Gretchen
said: “Don’t you think we ought to
nrK
1 It •
give some of our wood and vegetables
to the poor family at the end of the
lead?”
“No,” replied Hans. “Why should we
give away that which we have worked
to get? Besides that, that lazy fellow
should have worked and got enough
ahead for the winter. He Is a lazy,
good for nothing. Now let him starve.”
When they were at supper that night,
a knock came upon the door.
Hans went to the door and opened It.
“Good evening,” said a quiet voice,
and a girl dressed In gray entered and
closed the door, for Hans had backed
Into a corner of the room, her eyes were
looking at him In such a mournful way.
"Who are you?” he asked at last.
“I am the Fairy of Charity,” the girl
replied, “and I have corpe to ask you
way you refuse to help the poor man
who Is your neighbor and less fortu
nate than yourself. You have n > chur
Ity In your hear. Gretchen Is the one
who has brought all your good fortune
to you. Be charitable to those who do
not know how to help themselves, anil
give from out your plentiful store to
thoso who have less.
"I am the last of the three sisters,
and If y< u do not profit from our visits,
you will live a sorrowful and unloved
old age. Be warned In time, and re
member the fairy sisters who have vis
ited you—Faith, Hope and Charity—I
am the last, and the greatest to be
desired.", And she disappeared into the
night as her sisters hid done.
Hans came out of his corner when
she had gone. “You'd better fill a bas
ket,” he said, “and I will take It In the
morning to the poor family at the end
of the road.”
N
CHAPTER VI—(Continued).
Mr. Presbrey took the liberty of In
terrupting him. This was an lnstanco
when Horace was not only likely to ex
cuse an Interruption but might even
welcome It. So Mr. Presbrey rose to
the occasion. He put In a tempering
protest.
“My dear sir, put that thought from
you, once and for all. Chetwynd was
certainly as eligible as anyone. All Is
fair In—er—love, and war. Ha, ha!
Quite so, quite so! Ha, ha! You
heard what Mr. Borden, of the com
mittee, said. "Amazingly clever and
brilliant Idea for a college boy, and well
thought out.’ Those were his very
words. I made it a point to remember
them so that I might repeat them to
Mrs. Blagden."
Horace smiled benignly, and then
permitted a cloud to cross his face. He
squeezed Eric’s shoulder in consoling
grip and said: “It’s hard on you, Eric.
If it hadn't been for Chetwynd, I am
sure you would have carried off the
honor. I can’t help thinking that I
should have kept your cousin out of the
contest."
“It wouldn’t have been right sir,"
said Eric simply. He had swallowed
hard before opening his mouth.
“I am sorry, Eric," went on his
uncle, kindly.
Eric could hardly believe his senses.
It was the first time he had heard that
expression come from his uncle’s lips.
Somehow, it had never entered his
head that Chetwynd’s father could be
sorry for anybody.
There were tears In Mary's eyes as
they followed Mr. Blagden and his
guests into the house. She pressed
Eric’s arm.
“I Just know his design wasn’t as
good as yours, Eric," she whispered.
“Oh, I don’t mind a bit, girlie," he
said bravely, despite the sore,
disappointment In his heart. “It’s all
in a lifetime.” A moment later, he
muttered, more to himself than to her:
“I wonder when he worked at the de
sign. He read novels all the time, so
far ns I could tell.”
“I suppose it will be on exhibition at
the public library,” said Mary, in
grudging tones.
“I’ll see it tomorrow.”
Mrs. Blagden came down the stair
way, dry eyed and eager. Even as she
shook hands with the Presbreys, she
flashed a questioning glance at her
husband.
“Did Chetwynd get it?” she asked.
“Certainly,” replied Horace.
She beamed. “You must telegraph
the news to him. Horace.”
He playfully tapped her on the cheek
with his slim, cool fingers. “I already
have done so, my dear."
CHAPTER VII.
THE BENDING OP HORACE
BLAGDEN.
Late the next afternoon Horace re
ceived a telegram that puzzled him not
a little. It was from Chetwynd. “Who
won the prize? Wire me at the Hol
land as usual.’’
What puzzled Horace was this: what
had become of the telegram addressed
to his son at the Holland half an hour
after the awarding of the prize the day
before? But what would have puzzled
anyone who knew Mr. Blagden at all
well, was his action In sending a sec
ond telegram without inquiring at the
telegraph office why the first had not
been delivered. The thin line between
the banker’s eyes seemed to have deep
ened perceptibly after the receipt of his
son’s query. Somehow, he had the ugly
notion that his first telegram was ly
ing unclaimed at the hotel in New York.
Mr. Blagden usually left the hank at
4 In the afternoon. It was his prac
tice. not to say habit, to walk up tne
street to his club—the only one in town
that a gentleman could enter without
glancing over his shoulder In all direc
tions—there to read the Boston papers
and engage in a subsequent game of
cribbage with Colonel Harkweather.
who also read the papers before doing
anything else. On this particular af
ternoon, however, the colonel not only
read the Boston papers, but scanned
the New York dallies and then took up
the magazines. Finally he went home
in fine disgust. It was the first time
In months that Blagden had failed to
appear. He was half way home before
It occurred to him that the banker
might be 111 So he entered a drug
store and telephoned to the house on
the hill. He was not at all relieved
to hear from Mrs. Blagden herself that
Horace had never been in better health.
If anything, the colonel was more fu
rious than before, considering himself
a much abused man. He kept saying
over and over again to himself that he
was sorry Blagden was not 111: there
was now no excuse at all for him that
he could see.
But Horace sat at his desk much
later than usual on this day, a trou
bled frown on his brow. He was not
thinking of Chetwynd, as you might
suppose—at least, he was not devoting
all of his thoughts to the boy. It seems
there was a very grave cause for sus
pecting a former employe of dishonest
practices during the last days of his
employment In the bank. Within the
past week, auditors, in going over the
books anticipatory to the appearance
of the bank examiner, had unearthed
discrepancies in the balances. There
was a clearly defined shortage of near
ly {5,000, carried over for several
months before coming to light. Careful
Investigation revealed the fact that the
shortage was created about the time
the assistant teller left the bank In
order to make room for the president's
son. The young man himself, one John
Payson, after losing his position, se
cured work In the offices of a build
ing and loan society, upon the unqual
ified recommendation of Horace Blag
den. He remained In the bank for a
week after Chetwynd was Installed, in
structing him In the duties of office. Ab
near as could be reckoned, the embez
zlement occurred Immediately before or
during his week of Instruction.
Nothing of the kind had happened be
fore In the history of Blagden & Co.
Not so much as a penny had been fel
oniously taken from Its coffers, not in
all the 60 years of the bank’s existence.
No wonder, then, that Horace was dis
turbed.
To think that he had employed a man
who could stoop to theft! And to think
that subsequently he had recommended
him to a position of trust! It was most
upsetting.
With a promptness that suggested
panic Mr. Blagden hired a New York
detective and put him on the case. For
a week or more, that worthy had been
devoting his time and intelligence to
a study of the past and present habits
of the suspected young man. with the
surprising result that, so far, he was
unable to report to Mr. Blagden that
they were anything but good. This, of
course, convinced Horace that the tel
11
low was an uncommonly clever rascal.
Tlie detective was Adam Carr.
On this particular day, Mr. Blagden
sat in his private office long after the
hour for closing, aimlessly fingering
the telegram he had received from his
son, but intently considering the day’s
report from Adam Carr. It was begin
ning to enter his mind that Carr was
not competent to handle a case so baf
fling as this appeared to be. He was
wondering if It would not be a wise
move to dismiss him and employ a
Boston man who, it appears, had caught
a very clever defaulter after chasing
him for three years. But as Horace
was a prompt man In everything, he
was bound to admit that he was averse
to hiring a man who was so slow as all
that. He had talked It over with the
cashier and three of the directors, and
they had advised hiring the Boston
man. That was another reason why
he hesitated.
Carr’s report for the day brought
nothing new to his impatient mind. The
ex-teller was behaving in a most
circumspect manner. There was no evi
dence that he gambled, speculated, or
kept a woman in New York. Payson
had not visited New York In two years
so far as Adam Carr could learn, and
Horace was forced to admit that if he
had a paramour at all, she must be in
New York. She couldn’t be In Cor
inth.
The telephone on his desk rang. He
put the receiver to his ear with me
chanical precision and said: “Yes.”
The voice that came out of the little
black tube was so loud and vibrant that
his eyelids twitched with pain; he held
the receiver a little farther away. It al
ways annoyed him to have anyone
Bhout in his ear. A look of surprise
followed immediately. Erie Midthorne
was speaking.
“Yes. I am still here,’’ replied Mr.
Blagden. “What is it?" He listened
for a moment to the strident, excited
voice and then cut in with the curt re
mark: “It Isn’t necessary to shout. I
ran hear you. . . . Yes, I will wait
here if it is important. But don't be
long about it. Come up if you must
see me."
Three minutes later Erie burst Into
the room without so much as a tap on
the mahogany door.
“Dear me, Eric, Is this the way to
enter a room?” demanded Horace, In
that mild tone of reproof that never
failed to hurt more than a sharp repri
mand.
n lave oo wiutc ao Guam, lie
came directly to the desk, but many
seconds elapsed before he could force
words through his twisted lips. Horace
stared at the boy's convulsed face In
actual surprise.
“Uncle Horace,” began Eric hoarse
ly, “it was my drawing that took the
prize. Do you know that? It was my
drawing. I have Just seen it.”
Mr. Blagden’s brow darkened; his
grey eyes narrowed and seemed to turn
black as coal.
“What are you saying?” he demand
ed.
Eric struck the desk a violent blow
with his clenched fist. His eyes shot
fire.
“It was my drawing! Chetwynd stole
It!”
Horace opened his eyes very wide.
A look that no one had ever seen in
them before grew as he stared, with
parted lips, at him who uttered those
awful words. He closed his lips sudden
ly to hold back the gush of tee water
that seemed to fill his motith. He swal
lowed. and the chill spread through
out his body. He did not realize it at
the moment, but afterwards he was to
recall that he was experiencing the first
touch of a blighting fear from which
he was never afterwards to be free;
the fear of Chetwynd.
In an instant, he was himself again,
a bit greyer than before perhaps, but
quite as austere.
“What do you mean, sir, by striking
my table in that manner? Try to gov
ern yoursel. sir, or leave the room.” He
chose to resent the boy’s actions, rath
er than his words. Afterwards, in an
alysing his emotions, he came to ac
knowledge a shameful weakness In
shrinking from the real attack.
“I swear. Uncle Horace, so help me
God, that the drawing sent in by Chet
wynd is the one I made. I have never
seen the one that bears iny name. I
never drew it. Oh. It was a dirty trick!
It was fiendish! Uncle, you’ve just got
to straighten It out. He took my draw
ing. I don’t know how or when, but it
is mine that has his name on it over
at the library.”
Tears of rage and despair filled his
eyes.
Mr. Blagden had himself well in hand
by this time.
"You are making a very serious
charge against your cousin, Eric,” he
said levelly. “I cannot permit you to
go on in this way. You—” _
“But it is true!” cried Eric wildly.
“I swear it’s true!”
“Do not interrupt me. Why should
I believe what you say? How could
Chetwynd have come into possession
of your drawing? You kept it under
lock and key; you presented it to the
committee with your own hands, did
you not? You would hardly go so far
as to jiccuse the honorable Judges of
substituting one drawing for the other,
of placing my son’s name on your work
or allowing him to do so, if it could
have gone that far.”
“But it is my drawing and it has his
name on it. It wasn't there when I
submitted the design to Mr. Porter, the
librarian.”
lfo you cousioer ims a sportsman
like manner in which to take defeat?”
demanded Horace sneeringiy.
"I don't consider it a defeat, I'ncle
Horace.” said Eric deliberately. "My
drawing won the prize.”
Mr. Blagden's stern gaze wavered
ever so slightly.
"If you placed your drawing in Mr.
Porter’s hands, then what, may I ask.
Inspires you to make this deliberate
charge against my son? It isn’t likely
he could have wished his name to ap
pear upon it, to have it appear there
as if by magic. This is not the age of
Aladdin."
"I can't understand It any more than
you. sir, but it is true. Just the same,”
cried Eric doggedly. “Mr. Porter says
that no one touched the drawings."
“Then, will you be good enough to
tell me how Chetwynd could have done
this thing you accuse him of doing?"
demanded Mr. Blagden sternly.
"I think it was done before I submit
ted the drawing,” said Eric.
“Oh." was his uncle's expressive
comment.
“I wrapped it up carefully and put It
In my drawer the day before I present
ed It. It was not unwrapped after that.
Chetwynd was In my room that eve
ning alone. Mary saw him there and
he said he was looking for a scarf pin
I had taken from his room without per
mission. He—he told her I had no
■business going Into his room that h«M
[ missed several things, and—and—well,
lie as much as said I’d taken thing®
that didn't belong to me.”
Horace smiled with grim derisiveness.
“It is possible he had as much right to
accuse you as you have to accuse him
It seems to me his case is as godd as
yours.”
“T am not a thief!”
“He might say the same. Did he find
the scarf pin?”
Eric flushed. “He told her he found
it. But he lied.”
“Eric!”
“He lied!"
Mr. Biagden's face grew deathly
white and then turned purple. Ha
sprang to his feet and advanced upon
the boy. a furious glare in his eyes.
“You scoundrel! You vilifier! You
unhung rascal! How dare you come to
me with such a story as this?” Ha
choked, he appeared to be strangling
Eric shrank back aghast. No one had
ever heard a blasphemous word on tha
lips of Horace Blagden, but now Eric
was to listen to a torrent of wild1 pro
fanity that would have shocked even
the walls of a ship's forecastle. He was
seized with the fear that his uncle had
gone mad, utterly mad.
“Uncle!” he cried, putting up hi®
hands as if to shield himself from a
blow.
“I could kill you where you
stand, curse you,” hissed the man.
A great light broke In upon
him. "Ah! Now I understand!
Now T can see how a man Justifies
himself for taking another’s life. By
heavens, I know how sweet it would
be to kill.” In his frenzy, he looked
about for a deadly weapon.
Then, as suddenly, his whole man
ner changed. He fell back against th®
table, his Jaw dropping, an expression
of great horror crossing his face.
“Good God, help me,” he groaned,
shaking as with the ague. “What is it
I have said? What is it that is in my
heart? Murder? Oh, my God.”
He would have fallen had not th®
boy leaped forward to catch him by
the arm. Mr. Blagden shook him off.
Eric fell away, moving toward the door,
ready to flee from this amazing figure,
this unknown being.
His uncle turned his sodden eye®
upon him, and motioned with a trem
bling hand for him to stay.
“Stop! Don’t run away. Walt, Eric.
I—I ask you to wait here until—until
I—” Whatever it was that he meant
to say, the words were not uttered.
Somehow Eric understood. He stood
in the middle of the floor and watched
his uncle stagger to the couch over
near the wall, upon which li®
dropped as If every vestige of strength
had deserted him.
The minutes passed slowly. The pic
ture remnined the same. The wondering,
half stupefied boy in the middle of the
room; the motionless figure on the
couch, from whose lips ever and anon
came two hoarsely whispered words:
“My God!”
rne shadows or dusk crept into the
room through the high windows; the
waning light of the summer day looked
In upon the strange tableau, and vague
sounds from the street came, but with
out the power to disturb. Somewhere,
off In the deserted banking room, a
watchman was shuffling and whistling.
Eric waited for him to open the door
and break the spell that had fallen
over the president's office. Nothing
else, it seemed, could shake the fet
ters from his feet, or drive the warm
blood back into his empty veins. Would
the heavy breathing figure on the
couch never change Its limp position?
Would the hand never be drawn away
from the eyes it covered?
At last, when the room had grown
quite dark, Horace Blagden moved.
The boy’s tense figure relaxed so sud
denly that his legs almost gave way.
"Answer the telephone, please,’’ said
Mr. Blagden, his voice clam once more
but weak.
The telephone had been buzzing for
a minute or longer. Eric grabbed up
the receiver.
"It Is Aunt Rena," he said lazily.
“She wants to know If you are 111
why you are so late coming home,
uncle."
"Tell her I am all right and will be
there at once.”
He arose from the couch, taller,
more gaunt than ever It seemed to
Eric as he saw him through the gath
ering darkness.
“Eric,” he said from his position near
the couch, “we will go home at once.
Will you get my hat and cane from
the closet?”
The boy hesitated. ”1 can’t go homo
with you now. Uncle Horace. Not after
what I’ve said to you.’’
There was another long period of
silence. The man's eyes were half
closed.
(Continued next week.)
A Vote Gettinq Speech.
From the Kansas City Star.
It Is understood that the political
speeches of Senator Weeks of Massachu
setts, until recently of Hornblower &
Weeks, bankers and brokers of Boston,
formerly president of the Newtonville
Trust company and vice president of the
First National bank of Boston, have
awakened the greatest enthusiasm In the
highest financial circles.
Mr. Weeks has assured big business
that It was being abused; frightfully
abused. The officers of the United States
Steel corporation, the Standard Oil com
pany. the Pennsylvania railroad and other
similar institutions had suspected as much
all along, and when they heard about It
from Senator Weeks they knew It must be
so.
As the senator so cogently says, whither
are we drifting? Here is the Interstate
Commerce commission sitting on the lid
for the railroads and refusing to permit
them to fix what rates they please. Here
le congress shaving the tariff and telling
the big woolen mills monopoly that It
must submit to a little foreign competi
tion. Here Is the Missouri public utilities
commission waiting to see what the Met
ropolitan Is going to try to put over on
Kansas CUy.
Oh, my countrymen, says Senator
Weeks to the Commercial club and similar
organizations, what times are these. Only
a few short years ago under the fostering
guidance of that great statesman, Mark
Hanna, none of these outrages was possi
ble. In those shining days business got
whatever It wanted. No outsiders wers
permitted to muss things up. Legislation
was handled by real experts.
Andrew Carnegie, he points out. wrote
the steel schedule of the tariff bill. So
he could be sure of getting It right. No
president had the temerity to ask the rail
roads to subject themselves to the super
vision of an Interstate Commerce commis
sion. The railroads applied the principle
or what the traffic would bear, and every
body—except the shippers and the public
—was happy. Our great utilities were per
mitted to write their own franchises and
millions were thereby transferred from
the pockets of the nickel payers, who nev
er would have used the money wisely, to
the bank accounts of eminent financiers
who knew Just what to do with It.
"And now." he concludes, "need I tell
you?—business is harassed at every turn
and a government official la on hand to
see that the public doesn't get the worst
of It. What we need Is high tariff and a
return to the golden days of that sterling
patriot. Senator Hanna,"
This speech, wherever It has been deliv
ered to chambers of commerce, bankers'
conventions, associations of woolen manu
facturers. conferences of railroad presl
! dents and assemblies of street railway
j financiers, has been held to be a master
1 piece of political effort and a wonderful
vote getter. Senator Weeks’ friends feel
sure that if It could only get to what they
regard as the "masses." or the “lower
classes"—meaning anybody who doesn't
pay a supertax on his Income—It would
set the country on fire for him as presi
dent.
Mebbe so. Mebbo so.
Anyway he would be sere ot the solid
cautaln-uMnduatry vote.
