15 WHITE
Sir GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
L ILLUSTRATIONS Jr;RAY WALTERS
COPYD/D/YT, /D/+.
OY DODO, Of DAD
A/YD COT7PA/YY
SYNOPSIS.
—5—
In tlie New York home of James Brood
Dawes and Riggs, his two old pensioners
and comrades, await the coming of
Brood's son Frederic to learn the contents
of a wireless from Brood, but Frederic,
after reading, throws it into the fire and
leaves the room without a word. Frederic
tells 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 his bride arrive. She
wins Frederic's liking at first meeting.
Brood shows dislike and veiled hostility to
his son. Lydia and Mrs. Brood meet in
the jade-room, where Lydia works as
Brood's Secretary. The room, dominated
by a great gold Buddha, Brood’s father
confessor, is furnished in oriental mag
nificence. Mrs. Brood, after a talk with
Lydia, which leaves the latter puzzled, is
disturbed by the appearance of Ranjab.
the Hindu servant of Brood. Mrs. Brood
makes changes in the household and
gains her husband's consent to send Mrs.
Desmond and Lydia away. She tries to
fathom the mystery of Brood’s separation
from his first wife, and his dislike of his
son, but fails. Mrs. Brood fascinates
Frederic. They visit Lydia and her moth
er in their new apartment. Mrs. Brood
begins to fear Ranjab in his uncanny ap
pearances and disappearances and Fred
eric. remembering his father's East Indian
stories and firm belief in magic, fears un
known evil. Ranjab performs feats of
magic for Dawes and Riggs.
CHAPTER VII—Continued.
Then, before their startled, horror
Btruck eyes, the Hindu coolly plunged
the glittering blade into his breast,
driving it in to the hilt!
"Good Lord!” shouted the two old
men.
Ranjab serenely replaced the sword
In its scabbard.
“It is not always the knife that finds
the heart,” said he, so slowly, so full
of meaning, that even the old men
grasped the significance of the cryptic
remark.
“A feller can be fooled, no matter
how closely he watches,” said Mr.
Dawes, and he was not referring to
the amazing sword trick.
“No, sir,” said Mr. Riggs, with
gloomy irrelevance, “I don’t like that
woman.”
The old spell of the Orient had
fallen upon the ancients. They were
hearing the vague whisperings of
voices that came from nowhere, as
they had heard them years ago in the
mystic silences of the East.
“Sh! One comes,” said Ranjab
softly. "It will be the master’s son.”
An instant later his closet door
closed noiselessly behind him and the
old men were alone, blinking at each
other. There was np sound from the
hall. They waited, watching the cur
tained door. At last they heard foot
steps on the stairs, quick footsteps of
the young.
Frederick strode rapidly into the
room.
CHAPTER VIII.
“He Killed a Woman.”
His face was livid with rage. For
a moment he glowered upon the two
old men. his fingers working spasmod
ically, his chest heaving with the vol
canic emotions he was trying so hard
to subdue. Then he whirled about,
to glare into the hall.
“In God's name, Freddy, boy, what’s
happened?” cried old Mr. Riggs, all
a-tremble.
Some minutes passed before he could
trust himself to speak. Ugly veins
$tood out on his pale temples, as he
paced the floor in front of them. Even
tually Mr. Dawes ventured the vital
question, in a somewhat hushed voice.
“Have you—quarreled with your fa
ther, Freddy?"
The young man threw up his arms
in a gesture of despair. There was
a wail of misery in his voice as he
grated out:
“In the name of God, why should he
hate me as he does? What have I
done? Am I not a good son to him?”
“Hush!” implored Mr. Dawes, nerv
ously. “He’ll hear you.”
“Hear me!” cried Frederic, and
laughed aloud in his recklessness.
“.Why shouldn't he hear me? By
God, I’ll not stand it a day longer. He
wouldn't think of treating a dog as
he treats me. God, I—I, why, he is
actually forcing me to hate him I
do hat* him! 1 swear to heaven, it
was in my heart to kill him down
there just now. I—” He could not
go on. He choked up and the tears
rushed to his eyes. Abruptly turning
away, he threw himself upon the
couch and buried Ills face on his arms,
sobbing like a little child.
The old men, distressed beyond the
power of speech, mumbled incoherent
words of comfort as they slowly edged
out toward the door. They tiptoed
into the hall and neither spoke until
their bedroom door was closed behind
them. Mr. Dawes even tried it to see
that it was safely latched.
The curtains parted and Yvonne
looked in upon the wretched Frederic.
There was a look of mingled pain and
commiseration in her wide open eyes
For a moment she stood there regard
ing him in silence. Then she swiftly
crossed the room to the couch in the
corner where he sat huddled up, his
shoulders still shaking with the mis
ery that racked him. Her hand went
out to touch the tousled hair, but
etopped before contact. Slowly she
drew back, with a glance of apprehen
sion toward the door of the Hindu’s
j closet. An odd expression of alarm
crept into her eyes.
“Frederic,” she said, softly, almost
j timorously.
He lifted his head quickly, and then
I sprang to his feet. His eyes were wet
j and his lips were drawn. Shame pos
! sessed him. He tried to smile, but it
! was a pitiful failure.
“Oh, I’m so ashamed of—of—” he
| began, in a choked voice.
“Ashamed because you have cried?”
she said quickly. “But no! It is good
, to cry—it is good for women to cry.
But when a strong man breaks down
1 and sheds tears, I am—oh, I am heart
broken. But come! You must go to
your room and bathe your face. Go at
once. Your father must not know that
you have cried. He—”
“D—n him!” came from between
Frederic’s clinched teeth.
"Hush!” she cried, with another
glance at Ranjab's door. She would
have given much to know whether
the Hindu was there or still below
stairs. “You must not say such—"
“I suppose you’re trying to smooth
it over so that they won't consider
him a brute. Is that it?”
“Hush! Please, please! You know
that my heart aches for yoji, mon
ami. It was cruel of him, it was cow
ardly, yes, cowardly! Now I have
said it!” She drew herself up and
turned deliberately toward the little
door across the room.
His eyes brightened. The crooked
sneer turned into an imploring smile.
"Forgive me, Yvonne! You must
see that I’m beside myself. I—I—”
“But you must be sensible. Re
member he is your father. He is a
strange man. There has been a great
deal of bitterness in his life. “He—”
"But I can't go on the way things
are now. He's getting to be worse
than ever. I never have had a kind
word from him, seldom a word of any
description. Never a kind look. Can’t
you understand how it goads me to_”
“I am your friend,” she said slowly.
"Is this the way to reward me?”
He dropped to his knees and cov
ered her hands with kisses, mumbling
his plea for forgiveness.
“I am so terribly unhappy,” he said
over and over again. “I’d leave this
house tonight if it were not that I
can't bear the thought of leaving you,
Yvonne. I adore you. You are every
thing in the world to me. I—”
“Get up!” she cried out sharply. He
lifted his eyes in dumb wonder and
adoration, but not in time to catch
the look of triumph that swept across
her face.
“You will forgive me?” he cried,
coming to his feet. “I—I couldn’t help
saying it. It was wrong—wrong! But
you will forgive me, Yvonne?”
She turned away, walking slowly
toward the door. He remained rooted
We Will Excuse You, Frederic."
to the spot, blushing with shame and
dismay.
“Where are you going? To tell
him?” he gasped.
She waited an instant, and then
came toward him. He never could
have explained the unaccountable im
pulse that forced him to fall back a
few steps as she approached. Her eyes
were gazing steadily into his. and her
red lips were parted.
“That is as it should be,” she was
saying, but he was never sure that he
heard the words. His knees grew
weak. He was in the toils! “Now,
you must pull yourself together,” she
went on in such a matter-of-fact tone
that he straightened up involuntarily.
“Come! Wipe the tear stains from
your cheeks."
He obeyed, but his lips still quiv
ered with the rage that had been
checked by the ascendency of another
and even more devastating emotion.
She was standing quite close to him
now, her slender figure swaying
slightly as if moved by some strange,
rhythmic melody to which the heart
boat time. Her eyes were soft and
velvety again; her smile tender and
appealing. The vivid white of her
arms and shoulders seemed to shed
a soft light about her, so radiant was
the sheen of the satin skin.
' She moved closer to him, and with
deft fingers applied her tiny lace
handkerchief to his flushed cheek and
eyes, laughing audibly as she did so;
a low gurgle of infinite sweetness and
concern.
He stood like a statue, scarcely
breathing, the veins in his throat
throbbing violently.
“There!” she said, and deliberately
touched the mouchoir to her own smil
ing lips, before replacing it in her
bodice, next to the warm, soft skin. “I
have been thinking, Frederic,” she
said, suddenly serious. "Perhaps it
would be better if we were not alone
when the others came up. Go at once
and fetch the two old men. Tell them
I expect them here to witness the
magic. It appears to be a family
party, so why exclude them? Be
quick!”
He dashed off to obey her command.
She lighted a cigarette at the table,
her unsmiling eyes fixed on the door
of the Hindu’s closet. Then, with a
little sigh, she sank down on the
broad couch and stretched her supple
body in the ecstasy of complete relax
ation.
The scene at the dinner table had
been most distressing. Up to the in
stant of the outburst her husband had
been in singularly gay spirits, a cir
cumstance so unusual that the whole
party wondered not a little. If the
others were vaguely puzzled by his
high humor, not so Yvonne. She un
derstood him better than anyone else
in the world; she read his mind as she
would have read an open book. There
was riot, not joy, in the heart of the
brilliant talker at the head of the
table. He was talking against the sav
agery that strained so hard at its
leashes.
At her right sat Frederic, at her
left the renowned Doctor Hodder,
whose feats at the operating table
were vastly morn successful than bis
efforts at the dinner table. He was
a very wonderful surgeon, but equally
famous as a bore of the first rank.
Yvonne could not endure him.
airs. Desmond and Lydia were there.
This was an excellent opportunity
to entertain them on an occasion of
more or less magnitude.
Frederic, deceived by his father's
sprightly mood, entered rather reck
lessly into the lively discussion. He
seldom took his eyes from the face
of his beautiful stepmother, and many
of his remarks were uttered sotto
voce for her ear alone. Suddenly
James Brood called out his name in
a sharp, commanding tone. Frederic,
at the moment, engaged in a low ex
change of words with Yvonne, did not
■hear him. Brood spoke again, loudly,
harshly. There was dead silence at
the table.
“We will excuse you, Frederic," said
he, a deadly calm in his voice. The j
puzzled expression in the young man’s
face slowly gave way to a steady glare |
of fury. He could not trust himself ;
to speak. “I regret exceedingly that |
you cannot take wine in moderation, j
A breath of fresh air will be of benefit j
to you. You may join us upstairs later 1
on.”
“I haven't drunk a full glass of |
champagne,” begun the young man in
amazed protest.
Brood smiled indulgently, but there |
was a sinister gleam in his gray eyes.
“I think you would better take my j
advice,” he said, levelly.
Frederic went deathly pale. “Very
well, sir,” he said in a low, suppressed ;
voice. Without another word he got
up from the table and walked out j
of the room.
He spoke the truth later on when j
he told Yvonne he could not under- J
stand. But she understood. She
knew that James Brood had endured
the situation as long as it was in his j
power to endure, and she knew that it :
was her fault entirely that poor Fred
eric had been exposed to this crown-!
ing bit of humiliation.
As she sat in the dim study await
ing her stepson’s reappearance with
the two old men, her active, far-seeing
mind was striving to estimate the cost
of that tragic clash. Not the cost to
herself or to Frederic, but to James
Brood!
The Messrs. Dawes and Riggs, inor
dinately pleased over their rehabilita
tion, were barely through delivering
themselves of their protestations of
undying fealty, when the sound of
voices came up from the lower hall.
Frederic started to leave the room,
not caring to face those who had wit
nessed his unmerited degradation.
Yvonne hurried to his side.
“Where are you going?" she cried,
sharply.
He stared at her in wonder. “You
cannot expect me to stay here—”
“But certainly,” she exclaimed.
“Listen! I will tell you what to do.”
Her voice sank to an imperative whis
per. He listened in sheer amazement,
his face growing dark with rebellion
as she proceeded to unfold her plan
for a present victory over his father.
“No, no! I can’t do that! Never,
Yvonne,” he protested.
“For my sake, Freddy. Don’t forget
that you owe something to me. I
command you to do as I tell you. It
is the only way. Make haste! Open
the window. Get the breath of air
he prescribed. And when they are
all here, apologize for your condition!”
When Doctor Hodder and Mrs. Gun
ning entered the room a few minutes
later young Brood was standing in the
open window, drinking in the cold
night air, and she was blithely regal
ing the blinking old men with an ac
count of her stepson's unhappy efforts
to drink all of the wine in sight! As
she told it, it was a most amusing
experiment.
James Brood was the last to enter,
with Miss Followell. He took In the
situation at a glance. Was it relief
that sprang into his eyes as he saw
the two old men?
Frederic came down from the win
dow, somewhat too swiftly for one who
is moved by shame and contrition, and
faced the group with a well-assumed
look of mortification in his pale,
twitching face. He spoke In low, re
pressed tones, but not once did he
permit his gaze to encounter that of
his father.
"Im awfully sorry to have made a
nuisance of myself. It does go to my
head and I—I dare say the heat of
the room helped to do the work. I’m
all right now, however. The fresh air
did me a lot of good. Hope you’ll
overlook my foolish attempt to be a
devil of a fellow." He hesitated a mo
ment and then went on, more clearly.
“I'm all right now, father. It shall not
happen again, I can promise you
that.” A close observer might have
seen the muscles of his jaw harden
as he uttered the final sentence. He
intended that his father should take
it as a threat, not as an apology.
Brood was watching him closely, a
puzzled expression in his eyes; gradu
ally it developed into something like
admiration. In the clamor of voices
that ensued the older man detected
the presence of an underlying note of
censure for his own behavior. For the
first time in many years he experi
enced a feeling of shame.
Someone was speaking at his
elbow. Janey Followell, in her young,
enthusiastic voice, shrilled something
He Was Getting His Few Things To
gether in His Room.
into his ear that caused him to look
at her in utter amazement. It was so
astounding that he could not believe
he heard aright. He mumbled in a
questioning tone, “I beg your pardon?”
and she repeated her remark.
"How wonderfully like you Frederic
is, Mr. Brood.” Then she added: "Do
you know, I’ve never noticed it until
tonight. It’s really remarkable.”
"It is a most gratifying discovery,”
said he, and turned to speak to Mrs.
Desmond. He did not take his gaze
from Frederic’s white, set face, how
ever! and, despite the fact that he
knew the girl had uttered an idle com
monplace, he was annoyed to find
himself studying the features of Ma
tilde’s. boy with an interest that
seemed almost laughable when he con
sidered it later on.
His guests found much to talk about
in the room. He was soon being
dragged from one object to another
and ordered to reveal the history, the
use and the nature of countless things
that obviously were intended to be
just what they seemed; such as rugs,
shields, lamps, and so forth. He was
ably asisted by Messrs. Riggs and
Dawes, who lied prodigiously in a
frenzy of rivalry.
“What a perfectly delightful Bud
dha," cried Miss Janey, stopping in
front of the idol. “How perfectly
lovely he is—or is it a she, Mr.
Brood?”
Frederic joined Lydia at the table.
“A delicious scene, wasn’t it?” he
asked, bitterly, in lowered tones.
Her fingers touched his. “What did
he mean, Freddy? Oh, I felt so sorry
for you. It was dreadful.”
"Don't take it so seriously, Lyddy,”
he said, squeezing her hand gently.
Both of them realized' that it was the
nearest thing to a caress that had
passed between them in a fortnight
or longer. A wave of shame swept
through him. "Dear old girl, my dear
old girl,” he whispered brokenly.
Her eyes radiated joy, her lips part
ed in a wan, tremulous smile of sur
prise, and a soft sigh escaped them.
“My dear, dear boy,” she murmured,
and was happier than she had been in
weeks.
“See here, old chap,” said one of the
middle-aged gentlemen, again consult
ing his watch as he loudly addressed
hi8 host, “can’t you hurry this per
forhiance of yours along a bit? It is
after ten, you know."
“I Will summon the magician,” said
Brood. “Be prepared, ladies and gen
tlemen, to meet the devil. Ranjab is
the prince of darkness.”
He lifted his hand to strike the
gong that stood near the edge of the
table.
Involuntarily four pairs of eyes fas
tened their gaze upon the door to the
Hindu’s closet. Three mellow, softly
reverberating "booms” filled the room.
Almost instantly the voice of the Hin
du was heard.
“Ai-ee, sahib!”
He cane swiftly Into the room from
the hall, and not from his closet. Tho
look of relief in Yvonne’s eyes was
short-lived. She saw amazement in
the faoes of the two old men—and
knew!
“After we have had the feats of
magic,” Brood was saying, “Miss Des
mond will read to you, ladies and gen
tlemen, that chapter of our journal—”
“My Gawd!” groaned both of the
middle-aged gentlemen, looking at
their watches.
"—relating to—”
“You'll have to excuse me. Brood,
really, you know. Ilnportant engage
ment uptown—”
“Sit down, Cruger,” exclaimed Hod
der. “The lady won’t miss you.”
“—relating to our first encounter
with the great and only Kanjab,” pur
sued Brood, oracularly. “We found
him in a little village far up in the
mountains. He was under sentence
of death for murder. By the way,
Yvonne, the krls you have in your
hand is the very weapon the good fel
low used in the commission of his
crime. He was in prison and was to
die within a fortnight after our arrival
in the town. I heard of his unhappy
plight and all that had led up to it.
His case interested me tremendously.
One night, a week before the proposed
execution, my friends and I stormed
the little prison and rescued him. We
were just getting over the cholera and
needed excitement. That was fifteen
years ago. He has been my trusted
body servant ever since. I am sure
you will be interested in what I have
written about that thrilling adven
ture.”
Yvonne had dropped the ugly knife
upon the table as if it were a thing
that scorched her fingers.
"Did he—really kill a man?” whis
pered Miss Janey, with horror in her
eyes.
“He killed a woman. His wife, Miss
Janey. She had been faithless, you
see. He cut her heart out. And now,
Ranjah, are you ready?”
The Hindu salaamed. “Ranjab is
always ready, sahib,” said he.
CHAPTER IX,
The Sorceress.
The next day, after a sleepless night,
Frederic announced to his stepmother
that he could no longer remain under
his father’s roof. He would find some
thing to do in order to support him
self. It was impossible to go on pre
tending that he loved or respected his
father, and the sooner the farce was
ended the better it would be for both
of them.
She, too, had passed a restless night,
a night filled with waking dreams as
well as those which came in sleep.
There was always an ugly, wriggly
kris in those dreams of hers, and a
brown hand that was forever fascinat
ing her with its uncanny deftness.
Twice in the night she had clutched
her husband’s shoulder in the terror
of a dream, and he had soothed her
with the comfort of his strong arms.
She was like a little child "afraid of
the dark.”
Her influence alone prevented the
young man from carrying out his
threat. At first he was as firm as a
rock in his determination. He was
getting his few possessions together
in his room when she tapped on his
door. After a while he abandoned the
task and followed her rather dazedly
to the boudoir, promising to listen to
reason. For an hour she argued and
pleaded with him, and in the end he
agreed to give up what she was
pleased to call his preposterous plan.
"Now, that being settled,” she said,
with a sigh of relief, "let us go and
talk it all over with Lydia.”
He started guiltily. “I'd—I’d rather !
not, Yvonne,” he said. “There’s no
use worrying her with the thing now.
As a matter of fact. I’d prefer that
she—er—well, somehow I don’t like i
the idea of explaining matters to her.”
She was watching him narrowly. “It
has seemed to me of late, Frederic,
that you and Lydia are not quite so—
what shall I say?—so enamored of
each other. What has happened?” she
inquired so innocently, so naively,
that he looked at her in astonishment.
“I am sure you fairly live at her house.
You are there nearly every day, and
yet—well, 1 can feel rather than see 1
the change in both of you. I hope—” j
“I’ve been behaving like an infernal !
sneak, Yvonne,” cried he, conscience- |
stricken. "She’s the finest, noblest !
girl in all this world, and I’ve been !
treating her shamefully.”
“Dear me! In what way, may l !
inquire?”
"Why we used to—oh. but why go
into all that? It would only amuse
you. You'd laugh at us for silly fools
But I can’t help saying this much—
she doesn’t deserve to be treated as
I’m treating her now, Yvonne. It's
hurting her dreadfully and—"
She laughed softly. “I'm afraid you
are seeing too much of your poor
stepmother,” she said.
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve made
me over, that’s true. You’ve made all
of us over—the house as well. I am
not happy unless I am with you. It
used to make me happy to be with
Lydia—and we were always together.
But I—I don’t care now—at least, I
am not unhappy when we are apart.
You’ve done it, Yvonne. You’ve made
life worth living. You’ve made me
see everything differently. You—”
She stood up, facing him. She ap
peared to be frightened.
“Are you trying to tell me that
you are in love with me?" she de
manded. and there was no longer
mockery, raillery in her voice.
His eyes swept her from head to
foot. He was deathly white.
"If you were not my father’s wife
I wotld say yes,” said he, hoarsely.
She laughed. “I shall pay no at 1
tention to such nonsense. You are an
honest fool and I don’t blame you
Wiser men than you have fallen in
love with me, so why not you? 1 like
you, Freddy, I like you very, very
much. I—”
“You like me because 1 am his
son,” he cried hotly.
“If you were not his son 1 should
despise you,” she said deliberately
cruelly. He winced. “There, now;
we’ve said enough. You must be
sensible. You will discover that I am
very, very sensible. It is Lydia whom
you love, not I.”
“Before heaven, Yvonne, I do love
her. That’s what I cannot understand
about myself.” He was pacing the
floor.
“But I understand,” she said, qui
etly. “Now go away, please. And
don’t let me hear another word about
leaving your father’s house. You are
not to take that step until I command
you to go. Do you understand?”
He stared at her in utter bewilder
ment for a moment, and slowly nodded
his head. Then he turned toward the
door, shamed and humiliated beyond
words.
As he went swiftly down the stairs
his father came out upon the landing
above and leaned over the railing tc
watch his descent. A moment late!
Brood was knocking at Yvonne’s door
He did not wait for an invitation tc
enter, but strode into the room with
out ceremony.
She was standing at the window
that opened out upon the little stone
balcony, and had turned swiftly al
the sound of the rapping. Surprise
gave way to an expression of displeas
ure.
"What has Frederic been saying to
you?” demanded her husband curtly,
after he had closed the door.
A faint sneer came to her lips
"Nothing, my dear James, that you
would care to know,” she said, smol
dering anger in her eyes.
“You mean something that 1
shouldn’t know,” he grated.
“Are you forgetting yourself
James?” coldly.
He stared at her incredulously
“Good Lord! Are you trying to tel!
me what I shall do or say—”
She came up to him slowly. “James
we must both be careful. We must
not quarrel.” Her hands grasped the
lapel of his long lounging robe. There
was an appealing look in her eyes that
checked the harsh words even as they
rose to his lips. He found himsell
looking into those dark eyes with the
same curious wonder in his own that
had become so common of late. Time
and again he had been puzzled by
something he saw in their liquid
depths, something he could not fathom,
no matter how deeply he probed.
“What is there about you, Yvonne
that hurts me—yes. actually hurts me
—when you look at me as you’re look
ing now?” he cried, almost roughly
“There is something in your eyes—
there are times when you seem to be
looking at me through eyes that are
not your own. It's—it’s quite un
canny. If you—’’
“I assure you my eyes are all my
own,” she cried, flippantly, and yet
there was a slight trace of nervous
ness in her manner. “Do you intend
“I Have
Advised Him to Bide His
Time."
to be nice and good and reasonable,
Janies? I mean about poor Frederic?'
His face clouded again. “Do you
know what you are doing to the boy?’
he asked bluntly.
"Quite as well as I know what you
are doing to him.” she replied quickly.
He stiffened. “Can’t you see what it
is coming to?"
“Yes. He was on the point of leaving
your house, never to come back to it
again. That’s what it is coming to.
she said, lively.
“Why—why,’he'd starve!’ cried the
man, shaken in spite of himself. He
has never done a day s labor, he
doesn’t know how to earn a living.
He—”
“And who is to blame? You. James,
you! You have tied his hands, and
have penned him up in
“We will not go into that.” he inter
rupted coldly.
"Very well. I have advised him to
bide his time.”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Goes the Limit.
When a woman is angry she tells %
man just what she thinks of him—and.
incidentally, just what she thinks oth
er people think of him.
CANDLE MANY CENTURIES OLD
Inhabitants of Arras Have Great
Faith in Sacred Relic Most Care
fully Guarded.
Devastated Arras possesses an an
cient church, Notre Dame des Ardents,
which remained uninjured despite the
recent terrific bombardment, and
which contains a unique relic that is
nearly 1,000 years old.
The relic is known as the holy
candle It is guarded in a richly enam
1 eled silver casket, made to *he order
Of Jean de Sasquepee, lord of Bg.udl
mont and owner of Arras, and a curi
ous history is attached to it. It ap
I pears that in May, 1105, the Holy Vir
| gin appeared during the night to two
minstrels.
A terrible plague depopulated Arras
at that time, and the Virgin—so goes
the legend—gave the two minstrels a
candle, which they in turn gave to
Bishop Lambert of Arras and told
them that the hot wax of this candle
mixed with pure water would euro the
Inhabitants of Arras of the dreadful
malady.
The remedy ^proved efficacious, and
a grateful populace erected the monas
tery of Ardents. The candle has been
carefully guarded, and it is the firm
belief of the inhabitants of Arras that
it frequently saved them from utter
destruction.
Choir and Quire.
The word “quire,” as applied to a
chorus of singers is rare. The proper
word is "choir.”
IS WORK OF MANY MONTHS
Construction of the Marvelous Zeppe
lin Aircraft Not a Matter Which
Can Be Hurried.
The building of a Zeppelin is hot
the work of a day. The mere work on
the vessels takes an entire year, and
when that work is done another three
months must be spent in testing.
Stretched in a framework of girders,
there are from seventeen to twenty
five balloonettea from end to end. Over
these and over the girders is an outer
skin of proofed canvas. Slung under
the great length is a series of cabins.
Right in front is the station of the
lookout man, who is in charge of the
starting and the landing; he has an
chors slung beneath him. In the first
boat, which is entirely covered in. are
two petrol engines. Behind this boat
is the gangway, fitted up with sleeping
berths for the crew. In the center is
the observation station. It is from
here that the bombs are dropped, and
it is in here that the marvelous steer
| ing and sighting apparatus is installed,
| as well as the wireless plant.
Famous Jewel Long Forgotten.
A famous jewel, presented by a 1
London broker in 1789 to the presi
dent of Dartmouth college and de- 1
signed to be worn by him on occasions 1
of state, has been found in the vaults '
of Parkhurst Hall, where it has lain
forgotten for many years« President
Nichols may resume the old custom
of wearing it on state occasions.
I
MSS. WILLIAMS’
LONG SICKNESS
Yields To Lydia E. Pink*
ham's Vegetable
Compound.
Elkhart, Ind.“ I suffered for four
teen years from organic inflammation,
pain and irregulari
ties. The pains in
my sides were in
creased by walking
or standing on my
feet and I had such
awful bearing down
feelings, was de
pressed in spirits
and became thin and
pale with dull,heavy
eyes. I had six doc
tors from whom I received only tempo
rary relief. I decided to give Lydia E.
Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound a fair
trial and also the Sanative Wash. I have
now used the remedies for four months
and cannot express my thanks for what
they have done for me.
“ If these fines will be of any benefit
you have my permission to publish
them.” —Mrs. Sadie Williams, 455
James Street, Elkhart, Indiana.
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com
pound, made from native roots and herbs,
contains no narcotic or harmful drugs,
and to-day holds the record of being the
most successful remedy for female ills
we know of, and thousands of voluntary
testimonials on file in the Pinkham
laboratory at Lynn, Mass., seem to
prove this fact.
If you have the slightest doubt
that Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegeta
ble Compound will help you,write
to Lydia E.Pinkham MedicineC’o.
(confidential) Lynn,Mass., for ad
vice. Your letter will be opened,
read and answered by a woman,
and held in strict confidence.
Your Liver
Is Clogged Up
That’s Why You’re Tired—Out of Sorts
—nave no appetite.
CARTER’S LITTLE^
LIVfcK rlLLa
will put you right
in a few days.^
They dc
their duty^
Cure Con- f
stioation.
iu right
daysj
A
Biliousness, Indigestion and Sick Headache
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE
Genuine must bear Signature
Df 1 nit LOSSES SURELY PREVENT!*
AIR by Cutter’* Blaekleg Pill*. Low
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Write for booklet and testliu- nlaU.
10-dote pkg*. Blaekleg Pills Sl.CO
50-dose pkge. Blackleg Pills 4.CO
Use any injector, but Cutter's best.
The superiority of Cutter products is due to over 1.*
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Insist on Cutter’s. If unobtainable, order direct
The Cutter Laboratory. Berkeley. Cal., or Chicago. f/»
Man’s Ingratitude.
".My employers played me a rathe*,
heartless trick,” remarked the inan
who is always kicking.
‘‘Why, I thought they had in
creased your compensation.”
"Yes. But they increased It jast
enough to compel me to keep books
and employ an expert accountant to
figure out my income tax.”
Waste Eliminated.
“Does your husband waste nis tune
talking politics?"
“Xo,” replied the determined look
ing woman. "I don't let him waste
his time. When it comes to politics
he improves his time listening to
me.”
Dad Showing.
"We have no gloves in 'our stock,
sir.”
"That's odd. I should think gloves
are something always found on
hand.”
font OWN DBrGGIST WTLL TFLI. TOC
I*ry Murine Eye Remedy lor Red. Weak. Watery
Byes and Granulated Eyelids; No Smamn*;
Just Eve comfort. Write for Book of tb** Ere
ty mail Free. Murine Eye Remedy Co.. tblca*;**
The frigate bird holds the record
among the aviators. It reaches a speed
of 200 miles an hour.
Always proud to show white clothes.
Red Cross Ball Blue does make them
white. All grocers. Adv.
All things come to the other fellow
—if you sit down and wait.
Answer the Alarm!
A bad back makes a day’s work twice
as hard. Backache usually comes from
weak kidneys, and if headaches, dizzi
ness or urinary disorders are added,
don t wait—get help before dropsy,
gravel or Bright’s disease set in. Doan's
Kidney Pills have brought new life and
new strength to thousands of working
men and women. Used and recommend
ed the world over.
An Iowa Case
mry newt ids
«$tmr
C. D. Hayes, 133
Avenue B. West.
Albia, Iowa, says:
“My life was a bur
den with kidney
complaint and I suf
fered from sharp
pains, along: with a
dull ache. I got lit
tle benefit from any
thing I took until I
used Doan's Kidney
Pills. Five boxes
rid me of the trouble
and I haven’t suf
fered much since."
bet Uoan • at Any store, sue a Bos
DOAN’S WAV
FOSTER-M1LBURN CO.. BUFFALO. N. Y.
\ SWITCH M»fde YOUR OWM HAIR
Jail us your combings. We make them into a long
leautlful.waTy switch oranystyle. If necessary wi*
Official Denial
(o War Tax on Homestead Land in Canada
■ he report that a war tax ia to be placed on
iomestead lands in Western Canada hayinc
>een given considerable circulation in la.
Jnited States, this in to advise all enaulr.lt
hat no such tax has been placed, nor
iny intention to place a war tax of anvnaf. lt
in such lands. (Signed) W D Sco7?7o *tur®
mmlgratlon, Ottawa, Canada, >u£?h isiiif faff