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    15 WHITE
r- GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
HLLUSTFATIONS &r PAY WALTERS
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SYNOPSIS.
—3—
In the New York home of James Brood
Dawes and Biggs. his two old pensioners
and comrades, await the comini; of
Brood's son Frederic to learn the contents
of a wireless from Brood, but Frederic,
after reading, throws it Into the Are and
leaves the room without a word. Frederic
tolls Lydia Desmond, his fiancee, that the
message announces his father's marriage
and orders the house prepared for an Im
mediate homecoming. Mrs. Desmond, the
housekeeper and Lydia's mother, tries to
cool Frederic's temper at the Impending
changes. Brood and Ids bride arrive. She
wins Frederic's liking nt first meeting.
Brood shows dislike and veiled hostility to
his son. Lydia and Mrs. Brood meet in
Die Jade-room, where Lydia work9 as
Brood's secretary.
CHAPTER IV—Continued.
Lydia flinched, she knew not why.
There was a sting to the words, de
spite the languidness with which they
were uttered.
Risking more than she suspected,
she said: “He never considers the cost
Df a thing, Mrs. Brood, if its beauty
appeaiB to him.” Mrs. Brood gave
her a quizzical, half-puzzled look.
"You have only to look about you for
tho proof. This one room represents
K fortune.” The last was spoken has
tily.
"How old are you, Miss Desmond?”
The question came abruptly.
“I am nineteen.”
“You were surprised to find me so
young. Will it add to your surprise
If I tell you that I am ten years older
than you?”
“It doesn’t seem credible."
“Are you wondering why I tell you
iny age?”
“Yes,” said Lydia, bluntly.
“In order that you may realize that
( am ten years wiser than you, and
that yon may not again make the mis
take or underestimating my intelli
gence.”
The color faded from Lydia’s face.
She grew cold from head to foot. In
voluntarily she moved back a pace.
The next instant, to her unbounded
Surprise, Mrs. Brood’s hands were out
stretched in a gesture of appeal, and
ft quick, wistful smile took the place
ut the imperious stare.
“There! I am a nasty, horrid thing. 1
Forgive me. Come! Don't be stub
born. Shake hands with me and say
that you’re sorry I said what I did.”
II was a quaint way of putting it, and
her voice was so genuinely appealing
that Lydia, after a moment's hesita
tion, extended her hands. Mrs. Brood
grasped them in hers and gripped j
them tightly. "I think 1 should like to ;
know that you are my friend, Lydia.
Has it occurred to you that I am ut
teriy without friends in this great city
Kf your3? I have my husband, that
Ib all.”
The girl could no more withstand
ihe electric charm of the woman than
She could have fought off the sun
shine. She was bewildered, and com
pletely fascinated.
•’It’s—It’s very good of you,” she
murmured, her own eyes softening as
they looked into the deep, velvety
ftnee that would not be denied. Even
M she wondered whether she could
Bver really like this magnetic crea
ture, she felt herself surrendering to
the spell of her. “But perhaps you '
Will not like me when you know me j
better.”
“Perhaps,” said Mrs. Brood, calmly, i
Slmost Indifferently, and dismissed the |
subject. “What an amazing room!
One can almost feel the presence of
the genii that created it at the wish
Df the man with the enchanted lamp,
ks a rule, oriental rooms are abomi
nations, but this—ah, this is not an
oriental room after all. It is a part
Of the East Itself—of the real East.
I have sat in emperors’ houses out
there, my dear, and I have slept in
the palaces of kings. I have seen
lust such things as these, and I know
that they could not have been trans
ported to this room except by magic.
My husband is a magician.”
“These came from the palaces of
kings. Mrs. Brood,” said Lydia enthu
siastically. "Kings in the days when
kings were real. This rug—”
“I know,” interrupted the other. “My
husband told me the story. It must
have cost him a fortune.”
“It was worth a fortune," said Lydia.
K calculating squint had come Into
Mrs. Brood’s eyes while she was
speaking. To Lydia it appeared as if
She were trying to fix upon the value
of the wonderful carpet.
“A collector has offered him—how
much? A hundred thousand dollars,
Is not that it? Ah, how rich he must,
be!”
“The collector you refer to—”
“I was referring to my husband,”
>aid Mrs. Brood, unabashed. “He is
very rich, isn’t he?”
Lydia managed to conceal her an
noyance. “I think not. as American
fortunes are rated.”
“It doesn’t matter," said the other,
carelessly. “1 have my own fortune.
And it is not my face," she added,
with a quick smile. “Now let us look
further. I must see all these wonder
ful things We will not be missed,
»nd it is still half an hour till tea
time. My husband is now telling his
Bon all there is to be told about me—
who and what 1 am, and how he came
to marry me. Not, mind you, how I
came to marfy him, but—the other
way ’round. It’s the way with men
past middle age.”
Lydia hesitated before speaking.
"Mr. Brood does not confide in Fred
eric. I am afraid they have but little
in common. Oh, I shouldn’t have said
that!”
Mrs. Brood regarded her with nar
rowing eyes. “He doesn't confide in
Frederic?” she repeated, in the form
of a Question. Her voice seemed
low’er than before.
i'm sorry I spoke as I did. Mrs.
Brood,” said the girl, annoyed at her
self.
“Is there a reason why he should
dislike his son?” asked the other, re
garding her fixedly.
“Of course not,” cried poor Lydia.
There was a moment of silence.
“Some day, Lydia, you will tell me
about Mr. Brood's other wife.”
“She died many years ago,” said the
girl, evasively.
“I know,” said Mrs. Brood. “Still I
should like to hear more of the woman
he could not forget in all those years—
until he met me.”
She grew silent and preoccupied, a
slight frown marking her forehead as
she resumed her examination of the
room and its contents.
Great lanterns hung suspended be
side the shrine, but were now un
lighted. On the table at which Brood
professed to work stood a huge lamp
with a lacelike screen of gold. When
lighted a soft, mellow glow oozed
through the shade to create a circle of
golden brilliance over a radius that
extended but little beyond the edge
of the table, yet reached to the benign
countenance of Buddha close by.
Over all this fairylike splendor
reigned the serene, melting influence
of the god to whom Janies Brood was
wont to confess himself! The spell
of the golden image dominated every
thing.
In the midst of the magnificence
moved the two women, one absurdly
out of touch with her surroundings,
yet a thing of beauty; the other blend
ing intimately with the warm tones
that enveloped her. She was lithe,
sinuous with the grace of the most se
ductive of dancers. Her dark eyes re
flected the mysteries of the Orient;
her pale, smooth skin shone with the
clearness of alabaster; the crimson
in her lips was like the fresh stain
/
“I Must See These Wonderful Things."
of bloo<); the very fragrance of her
person seemed to steal out of the un
known. She was a part of the mar
velous setting, a gem among gems.
She had attired herself in a dull In
dian red afternoon gown of chiffon.
The very fabric seemed to cling to her
supple body with the sensuous joy of
contact. Even Lydia, who watched her
with appraising eyes, experienced a
swift unaccountable desire to hold this
intoxicating creature close to her own
body.
There were two windows In the
room, broad openings that ran from
near the floor almost to the edge of
the canopy. They were so heavily cur
tained that the light of day failed to
penetrate to the Interior of the apart
ment. Mrs. Brood approached one of
these windows. Drawing the curtain
apart, she let in an ugly gray light,
from the outside world.
She looked dow n into a sort of court
yard and garden that might have been
transplanted from distant Araby. Ut
tering an exclamation of wonder, she
turned to Lydia.
"Is this New York or am 1 be
witched?”
"Mr. Brood transformed the old car
riage yard into a—I think Mr. Dawes
calls it a Persian garden. It is rather
bleak in wintertime, Mrs. Brood, but
in the summer it is really enchanting.
See, across the court on the second
floor where the windows are lighted,
those are your rooms. It is an enor
mous house, you'll find. Do you see
the little balcony outside your win
dows, and the vines creeping up to it?
You can't Imagiue how sweet it Is of
a summer night with the moon ana
stars—”
"But how desolate it looks today,
with the dead vines and the colorless
stones! Ugh!”
She dropped the curtains. The soft
warm glow of the room came back and
she sighed with relief. “I hate things
that are dead,” she said.
At the sound of a soft tread and the
gentle rustle of draperies, they turned.
Ranjab, the Hindu, was crossing the
room toward the small door which
gave entrance to his closet. He paused
for an instant before the image of
Buddha, but did not drop to his knees
as all devout Buddhists do. Mrs.
Brood’s hand fell lightly upon Lydia's
arm. The man turned toward them a
second or two later. His dark, hand
some face was hard set and emotion
| less as he bowed low to the new mis
I tress of the house. The fingers closed
tightly on Lydia's arm. Then he
smiled upon the girl, a glad smile of
devotion. His swarthy face was trans
figured. A moment later he unlocked
his door and passed into the other
room. The key turned in the lock
with a slight rasp.
"I do not like that man,” said Mrs.
Brood. Her voice was low and her
eyes were fixed steadily on the closed
door.
CHAPTER V.
Husband and Wife.
The ensuing fortnight brought the
expected changes in the household.
James Brood, to the surprise of not
only himself but others, lapsed into a
curious state of adolescence. His in
fatuation was complete. The once
dominant influence of the man seemed
to slink away from him a3 the passing
days brought up the new problems of
life. Where he had lived to command
he now was content to serve. His
friends, his son, his servants viewed
the transformation with wonder, not
to say apprehension.
It would not be true to say that the
remarkable personality of the man
had suffered. He was still the man of
steel, but retempered. The rigid
broad-sword was made over into the
fine flexible blade of Toledo. He could
be bent but not broken.
It pleased him to submit to Yvon
ne’s commands. Not that they were
arduous or peremptory; on the con
trary, they were suggestions in which
his own comfort and pleasure appeared
to be the inspiration. She was too
wise to demand, too clever to resort to
cajolery. She was a Latin. Diplo
macy was hers as a birthright. Com
plaints, appeals, sulks would have
gained nothing from James Brood. Nor
would it have occurred to her to em
ploy these methods. From the day she
entered the house she was its mis
tress.
There were no false notions of senti
ment to restrain or restrict her in the
rearrangement of her household. She
went about the matter calmly, sen
sibly, firmly; even the most prejudiced
could not but feel the justice of her
decisions. The serene way in which
she both achieved and accepted con
quest proved one thing above all oth
ers: She was born to rule.
To begin with, she miraculously
transferred the sleeping quarters of
Messrs. Dawes and Riggs from the
second floor front to the third floor
back without arousing the slightest
sign of antagonism on the part of the
crusty old gentlemen, who had occu
pied one of the choice rooms in the
house with uninterrupted security for
a matter of nine or ten years. Mrs.
Brood explained the situation to them
so graciously, so convincingly, that
they even assisted the servants in
moving their heterogeneous belong
ings to the small, remote room on the
third floor, and applauded her plan to
make a large sitting-room of the cham
ber they were deserting. It did not
occur to them for at least three days
that they had been imposed upon,
cheated, maltreated, insulted, and then
it was too late. The decorators were
4n the big room on the second floor.
They had been betrayed by the wife
of their bosom friend. Is it small cause
for wonder, then, that the poor gentle
men as manfully turned back to the
tipple and got gloriously, garrulously
drunk in the middle of the afternoon
and also in the middle of the library,
where tea was to have been served to
a few friends asked in to meet the
bride?
The next morning a fresh edict was
Issued. It came from Janies Brood and
it was so staggering that the poor gen
tlemen were loath to believe their ears.
As a result of this new command, they
began to speak of Mrs. Brood in the
privacy of their own room as “that
woman.” Of course it was entirely
due to her mischievous, malevolent in
fluence that a spineless husband put
forth the order that they were to have
nothing more to drink while they re
mained in his house. This command
was modified to a slight extent later
on. Brood felt sorry for the victims.
He loved them and he knew that their
pride was injured a great deal more
than their appetite. In its modified
form, the edict allowed them a small
drink in the morning and another at
bedtime, but Jones, the butler, held
the key to the situation and—the side
board. And after that they looked up
on Mrs. Brood as the common enemy
of all three. ,
The case of Mrs. John Desmond was
disposed of in a summary but tactful
manner.
“If Mrs. Desmond is willing to re
main. James, as housekeeper instead
of friend, all well and good,” said Mrs.
Brood, discussing the matter in the
seclusion of her boudoir. “I doubt,
however, whether she can descend to
that. You have spoiled her, my dear."
He flushed. "1 trust you do not
mean to imply that—”
“I should like to have Mrs. Desmond
as my friend, not as my housekeeper,”
said his wife simply.
“By jove, and that’s just what I
should like,” he cried.
"There is but one way, you know.”
“She must be one or the other, eh?”
“Precisely,” she said with firmness.
“In my country, James, the wives of
best friends haven’t the same moral
standing that they appear to have in
yours. Oh, don’t scowl so! Shall I
tell you that I do not mean to reflect
on Mrs. Desmond’s virtue—or discre
tion? Far from it. If she is to be my
friend, she cannot be your housekeep
er. That’s the point. Has she any
means of her own? Can she—”
“She has a small income, and an an
nuity which I took out for her soon
after her poor husband’s death. We
were the closest of friends—”
“I understand, James. You are very
generous and very loyal, I quite un
derstand. Losing her position here,
then, will not be a hardship?”
“No,” said he soberly.
“I am quite competent, James,” she
said brightly. “You will not miss her,
I am sure.”
“Are you laughing at me, darling?”
She gave him one of her searching,
unfathomable glances, and then smiled
with roguish mirth.
“Isn’t it your mission in life to
amuse and entertain me?”
“I love you, Yvonne—Good God, how
I love you!” he cried abruptly. His
eyes burnt with sudden flame of pas
sion as he bent over her. His face
quivered; his whole being tingled with
the fierce spasm of an uncontrollable
desire to crush the warm, adorable
body to his breast in the supreme
ecstasy of possession.
She surrendered herself to his pas
sionate embrace. A little later, she
withdrew herself from his arms, her
lips still quivering with the fierceness
of his kisses. Her eyes, dark with
wonder and perplexity, regarded his
transfigured face for a long, tense
moment.
"Is this love, James?” she whis
pered. “Is this the real, true love?”
“What else, in heaven’s name, can it
be?” he cried. He was sitting upon
You Will Not Miss Her, 1 am Sure.”
the arm of her chair, looking down at
the singularly pallid face.
‘‘But should love have the power to
frighten one?”
“Frighten, my darling?"
“Oh, it is not you who are fright
ened,” she cried. “You are the man.
But I—ah, I am only the woman.”
He stared. “What an odd way to
put it, dear.” Then he drew back,
struck by the curious gleam of mock
ery in her eyes.
"Was it like this twenty-five years
ago?” she asked.
He managed to smile. “Are you
jealous?”
“Tell me about her.”
His face hardened. "Some other
time, not now.”
“You have never told me her
name—”
He faced her, his eyes as cold as
steel. “I may as well tell you now,
Yvonne, that her name is never men
tioned in this house.”
She seemed to shrink down farther
in the chair.
“Why?” she asked, an insistent note
in her voice.
“It isn’t necessary' to explain.” He
walked away from her to the window,
and stood looking out over the bleak
little courtyard. Neither spoke for
many minutes, and yet he knew that
her questioning gaze was upon him
and that when he turned to her again
she would ask still another question.
He tried to think of something to say
that would turn her away from this
hated subject.
“Isn’t it time for you to dress, dear
est? The Gunnings live pretty far up
north and the going will be bad with
Fifth avenue piled up with snow—”
“Doesn’t Frederic ever mention his
mother’s name?” came the question
that he feared before it was uttered.
“I am not certain that he knows her
name.” said he levelly. The knuckles
of his hands, clenched tightly behind
his back, were white. “He has never
heard me utter it.”
She looked at him darkly. There
was something in her eyes that caused
him to shift his own steady gaze un
comfortably. He could not have ex
plained what it was, but it gave him a
curiously uneasy feeling, as of im
pending peril. It was not unlike the
queer. Inexplicable though definite
sensing of danger that more than once
he had experienced in the silent, tran
quil depths of great forests.
“I wonder what could have hap
pened to make you so bitter toward
her,” she went on, still watching him
through half closed eyes. "Was she
unfaithful to you? Was—”
“Good God, Yvonne!" he cried, an
angry light jumping into his eyes—the
| eyes that so recently had been ablaze
with love.
“We must never speak of—of that
again,” he said, a queer note of hoarse
ness in his voice. "Never, do you un
derstand?” He was very much shaken.
“Forgive me,” she pleaded, stretch
ing out her hand to him. “I am fool
ish, but I did not dream that I was be
ing cruel or unkind. Perhaps, dear,
it is because I am—jealous.”
“There is no one—nothing to be
jealous of,” he said, passing a hand
over his moist brow. Then he drew
nearer and took her hand in his. He
lounged again on the arm of her chair.
She leaned back and sighed contented
ly, the smile on her red lips growing
sweeter with each breath that she
took. He felt the blood warming once
more in his veins.
For a long time they sat thus, look
ing into each other’s eyes without
speaking. He was trying to fathom
the mystery that lurked at the bottom
of those smiling wells; she, on the
other hand, deluded herself with the
idea that she was reading his inner
most thoughts.
“I have been considering the advis
ability of sending Frederic abroad for
a year or two,” said he at last.
She started. She had been far from
right in her reading. “Now? This
winter ?”
“Yes. He has never been abroad.”
“Indeed? And he is half European,
loo. It seems—forgive me, James.
‘ Really, you know, I cannot always
keep my thoughts from slipping out.
You shouldn’t expect it, dear.”
“I suppose it is only natural that
you should inquire,” he said resignedly.
“Of my servants,” she added point
edly.
tie nusnea sngntiy. ' i dare say I
deserve the rebuke. It will not be
necessary to pursue that line of in
quiry, however. I shall tell you the
story myself some day, Yvonne. Will
you not bear with me?”
She met the earnest appeal in his
eyes with a slight frown of annoyance.
“Who is to tell me the wife’s side I
■of the story?”
The question was like a blow to him.
He stared at her as if he had not heard
aright. Before he could speak, she '
went on coolly:
“I dare say there are two sides to
it, James. It’s usually the case.”
He winced. “There is but one side
to this one,” he said, a harsh note in
his voice.
“That is why I began my inquiries
with Mrs. Desmond,” she said enig
matically. “But I sha’n’t pursue them
any farther. You love me; that is all
I care to know—or that I require.”
"I do love you,” he said, almost im
ploringly.
She stroked his gaunt cheek. "Then
we may let the other woman—go
hang, eh?”
He felt the cold sweat start on his
brow. Her callous remark slashed his
finer sensibilities like the thrust of a
dagger. He tried to laugh, but only
succeeded in producing a painful gri
mace.
“And now,” she went on, as if the
matter were fully disposed of, “we will
discuss something tangible, eh? Fred
eric.”
"Yes,” said he, rather dazedly.
“Frederic.”
“I am ver>r, very fond of your son.
James,” she said. “How proud you
must be to have such a son.”
He eyed her narrowly. How much
of the horrid story did she know? How
much of it had John Desmond told to
his wife?
“I am surprised at your liking him,
Yvonne. He is what I'd call a diffi
cult young man.”
“I haven’t found him difficult."
"Morbid and unresponsive.”
"Not by nature, however. There is
a joyousness, a light-heartedness in
his character that nas never got be
yond the surface until now, James.”
“Until now?”
“Yes. And you talk of sending him
away. Why?”
“He has wanted to go abroad for
years. This is a convenient time for
him to go.”
“But I am quite sure he will not
care to go at present—not for awhile,
at least.”
"And why not, may I ask?"
“Because he is in love.”
“In love!” he exclaimed, his jaw set
ting hard.
“He is in love with Lydia.”
“I’ll put a stop to that!”
"And why, may I ask?” she
mimicked.
“Because—why—” he burst out, but
instantly collected himself. “He is
not in a position to marry, that’s all.”
"Financially?”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Poof!” she exclaimed, dismissing
the obstacle with a wave of her slim
hand. “A cigarette, please. There is
another reason why he shouldn’t go_
an excellent one.”
“The reason you’ve already given is
sufficient to convince me that he ought
to go at once. What is the other one,
pray?”
She lighted the cigarette from the
match he held. “W’hat would you say
if I were to tell you that I object to
his going away—at present?”
“I should ask the very obvious ques
tion.”
“Because I like him, I want him to
like me, and I shall be very lonely
without him,” she answered calmly.
“You?” he cried. “Why, you’ve
never known anything but—”
"One can be lonely even in the heart
of a throng,” she said cryptically. "No,
James, I will not have him sent away.”
He was silent for a moment. “We
will leave it to Frederic,” he said.
Her face brightened. "That is all 1
ask. He will stay.”
There was another pause. “You two
have become very good friends,
Yvonne.”
"He is devoted to me.”
She blew cigarette smoke in his face
He Was Silent for a Moment.
and laughed. There was a knock at
the door.
‘‘Come in,” she called.
Frederic entered.
CHAPTER VI.
The Spreading Glow.
Yvonne Lestrange, in a way, hac
been born to purple and fine linen. Sh<
had never known deprivation of an;
description. Neither money, positio
nor love had been denied her durin*,
the few years in which her charm and
beauty had flashed across the great
European capitals, penetrating even to
the recesses of royal courts. It is
doubtful if James Brood knew very
much concerning her family when he
proposed marriage to her, but it is cer
tain that he did not care. He first saw
her at the home of a British nobleman,
but did not meet her. Something in
the vivid, brilliant face of the woman
made a deep and lasting impression
on him. There was an instant when
their eyes met through an opening in
the throng which separated them. He
was not only conscious of the fact that
he was staring at her, but that she
was looking at him in a curiously pene
trating way. There was a mocking
smile on her lips at the time. He saw
it fade away, even as the crowd came
between. He knew that the smile had
not been intended for him, but for
some of the eager cavaliers who sur
rounded her, and yet there was some
thing singularly direct in the look she
gave him.
That single glance in the duke's
house proved to be a fateful one for
both. They' were married inside of a
month. The virile, confident American
had conquered where countless sup
pliants of a more or less noble char
acter had gone down to defeat.
He asked but one question of her,
she asked none of him. The fact that
she was the intimate friend and asso
ciate of the woman in whose home he
met her, was sufficient proof of hei
standing in society, although that
would have counted for little so far as
Brood was concerned.
She was the daughter of a baron;
she had spent much of her life in
Paris, coming from St. Petersburg
when a young girl; and she was an
orphan with an independent fortune of
her own. Such common details as
these came to Brood in the natural
way and were not derived from any ef
fort on his part to secure information
concerning Mademoiselle Lestrange.
Like the burnt child, he asked a ques
tion which harked back to an unfor
gotten pain.
“Have you ever loved a man deeply,
devotedly, Yvonne—so deeply that
there is pain in the thought of him?"
She replied without hesitation.
“There is no such man, James. You
may be sure of that.”
“I am confident that I can hold your
love against the future, but no man is
vital enough to compete with the past
Love doesn’t really die, you know. If
a man cannot hold a woman's love
against all new’comers, he deserves to
lose it. It doesn't follow, however, that
he can protect himself against the
man who appears out of the past and
claims his own.”
“You speak as though the past had
played you an evil trick," she said.
He did not mince words. “Years
ago a man came out of the past and
look from me the woman I loved and
cherished.”
“Your—your wife?” she asked in a
voice suddenly lowered.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
She was silent for a long time. “1
wonder at your courage in taking the
risk again,” she said.
■'I think I wonder at it myself,” said
tie. “No J am not afraid." he went on,
is if convincing himself that there
was no risk. “I shall make you love
me to the end, Yvonne. I am not
lfraid. But why do you not ask me
lor all the wretched story?'
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
HOW RANGE FINDER WORKS
Operation of Instrument That Makei
Possible Deadly Gunnery of the
Present Day.
One of the most Important Instru
ments used on a warship is the range
finder. Without this instrument it is
practirally impossible to aim the guns
accurately without incurring a serious
delay in getting the range by trial
shots. Range finders all work on al
most the same principle, images of the
ship or other object sighted on being
received through the two object
glasses, one located near each end and
on the side of the tube, being reflected
and refracted by a system of mirrors
and prisms, so that both are brought
to the eye of the observer, who looks
through the eyepiece, located at the
middle of the tube and on the oppo
site side from the object glasses The
right-hand glass transmits only the up
per half of the object sighted on and
the left-hand glass the lower half.
When sighting a ship, for example, the
riggings and funnels will appear to be
offset horizontally from the lower part
of the ship so long aB the instrument
is not set for the correct range. The
Images then are brought together by
thumb screw that moves one of the
prisms, and this sets a scale that
shows the distance In yards to the
ship.
Eugene Field Loved Children.
It was children whom Field loved
best, and he would take all sorts of
trouble to make a child happy. His
V
room was crowded with toys, queer
dolls, funny little mechanical toys that
ran about, or boxed, or nodded strange
heads, or performed tricks. His study
door was never shut to a child, and
he had many child friends his family
knew nothing of. His brother tell*
how, a few hours after his death, a lit
tle crippled boy came to the door and
asked if he might go up and see Mr.
Field. He was taken Into the room
where the gentle, much-loved figure
lay, and left there. In a little while
he came limping downstairs, the tears
streaming down his cheeks, and went ^
silently away, known to nobody there.
—From “Eugene Field, Lover o£ Child
hood,” by Hildegrade Hawthorne, in
the St Nicholas Magazine.
Sanitary Sandwiches Latest.
Enter the sanitary sandwich. Many
of the New York cafes have adopted
a machine for their free lunch coun
ters, that delivers a sandwich with
out a hand touching it, or the neces
Bity of tipping the carver. This intel
ligent mechanism consists of a num
ber of vacuum tubes of glass, each
containing ham, corned beef and
cheese. Push ttyt lever and a slice
of bread drops out on the platform.
If you want a ham sandwich, press
the lever and a knife cuts off a slice
of ham an eighth of an inch in thick
ness and drops it on the bread. An
other push at the bread lever and your
sandwich is complete. The new ma
chine can make a sandwich every sec
ond and give it away, which should
just about keep up with the capacitj
of some of the hungry ones.
A GREAT HELP
IN STOMACH ILLS
If you suffer from Poor Ap
petite, Sick Headache, Bloat
ing, Indigestion, Dyspepsia,
Cramps or Constipation you
will be greatly benefited by
a fair trial of
HOSTETTER’S
Stomach Bitters
The digestive system has be
come weak and Nature needs
assistance right away. The
Bitters has for over 60 years
been recognized as the real
“first-aid.” Try a bottle.
The genuine has our pri
vate stamp over neck.
Rheumatism
Just put a few drops of Sloan’3
on the painful spot and the pain
is stops. It is really wonderful
how quickly Sloan’s acts. Xo
? need to rub it in—laid on 1 ight ly
it penetrates to the bone ai.d
I brings relief at once. Kills
5 rheumatic pain instantly.
1 Mr. Jamei B. Alexander. of Sorth
Harpncell, Me., U'T-.tes: "Many strains
in my back and tips brought on rheu
matism in the sciatic nerve. _ I hid it so
bad one night when sitting in my eliair,
that I haa to jump on my feet to get
relief. I at once applied your Liniment
to the affected part and in less then ten
minutes it was perfectly easy. 1 think
it is the best of ail Liniments I Lave
ever used."
SLOAN'S
LINIMENT
Kills Pain
At all dealers, 25c.
Send four cents in stamps for a
TRIAL BOTTLE
Dr. Earl S. Sloan, Inc.
Dept. B. Philadelphia, Pa.
Don’t Persecute
Your Bowels
Cut out cathartics and purgatives. They are
brutal, harsh, unnecessary. Tn'JWk
CARTER’S LITTLE .^Sr:
•L1VLK PILLS
Purely vegetable. Act
gently on the liver,
eliminate bile, and.
soothe the delicate^
membrane of thej
bowel. Curej
Constipation,
Biliousness,
Sick Head*
[Barters
"^ITTLE
llVER
PILLS.
■cue bud indigestion, as millions Know.
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE.
Genuine must bear Signature
BUCK
LOSSES SURELY PREVENTED
by Cutter’* Blatktef Pllll. Low
priced. fresh, reliable: preferred ay
” extern stockmen, because tin
_ -__ _______ tfety
V proteet where other vamioet tail.
S ■ Write for booklet and testimonials.
i-lVB m 10-dose pkge. Black, eg Pill* fl.OO
50-doao pkge. Biaeklet Pills 4.80
__ trse *ny injector, but Cutter's beak.
The superiority of Cutter products Is due to ower 13
o' specializing in vaeeines and saruies eoly.
Intlgt oa Cutter’s. If unobtainable, orcUr dte**.
The Cutter Laboratory, Berkeley. Cal- ar CkJtaae. Il>
mil -M-PX Ifll POPHAM’S
ASTHMA MEDICINE
I Qlves Prompt and Positive Relief In Every
Case. Sold b.v Druggists. Price ll.UO.
Trial Package by Hail 10c.
J WILLIAMS MFG. CO., Props., Cleveland, 0.
...
Wonder How Paw Knew?
Little Lemuel—Say, paw, what is a
promoter?
Paw—A promoter, son. Is a man who
sells something he hasn't got to an
other man who doesn’t want it.
Tact.
She—Is my bread anything like the
kind your mother used to make?
He—Oh, dear no-! I can eat yours.
_ There is nothing more ill timed
tuan an unreliable watch.
Smile, smile, beautiful clear white
clothes. Red Cross Ball Blue, American
made, therefore best. All grocers. Adv.
They are the least desirable bless
ings which come in disguise.
not tell^
the grocer to send
you Van Houten’s
Kona Cocoa —a hot
drink treat for the
family. Half-pound
—in a red can
25c