Nebraska Newspapers

    /“pHE STORY OF\ 1
I 1 A MAN WHO
UN HIS OWNj
1JTTLE WORLD/
IA^OARD/SJbrTP I
W ASALAW
UONTO-HI^SELFW
SYNOPSIS.
Humphrey Van Weyden, critic and dilet
tante. is thrown into the water by the
sinking of a feiryboat in a fog in San
Francisco bay. and becomes unconscious
before help reaches him* On coming to
his senses he finds himself aboard the
sealing schooner Ghost, Captain Wolf
L,8rsen, bound to Japan waters, witnesses
the death of the first mate and hears the
captain curse the dead man for presuming
to die. The captain refuses to put
Humphrey ashore and makes him cabin
boy ’‘for the good of his soul.” He begins
to team potato peeling and dish washing
under the cockney cook. Mugridge. is
caught by a heavy sea shipped over the
quarter as he is carrying tea aft and his
knee is seriously hurt, but no one pays
any attention to his injury. Hump’s quar- I
ters ate changed aft. Mugridge steals his '
money and chases him when accused of
It. Later he listens to Wolf give his idea
of life—“like yeast, a ferment . . . the big |
eat the little . . .” Cooky is jealous of
Hump and hazes him. Wolf hazes a sea
man and makes it the basis for another
philosophic discussion with Hump. Wolf
entertains Mugridge in bis cabin, wins
from him at cards the money he stole
from Hump, and then tells Hump It is his.
Wolf’s by right of might. Cooky and
Hump whet knives at each other. Hump’s
Intimacy with Wolf increases, and Wolf
sketches the story of his life to Hump.
Wolf dismisses the Bible, and Omar with
Hump an\l illustrates the instinctive love
of life by choking Hump nearly to death.
A carnival of brutality breaks loose in
the ship and Wolf proves himself the
master brute.
CHAPTER XII.
Several days more passed before
Johnson crawled on deck and went
about his work In a half-hearted wav.
He was still a sick man. and I more
than once observed him creeping pain
fully aloft to a topsail, or drooping
wearily as he stood at the wheel. But,
still worse, it seemed that his spirit
was broken. He was abject before
Wolf Larsen and almost groveled to
Johansen. Not so was the conduct of
Leach. He went about the deck like
a tiger cub, glaring his hatred openly
at Wolf Larsen and Johansen.
'Til do for you yet. you slab-footed ;
Swede.” I heard him say to Johansen
one night on deck.
The mate cursed him in the dark
ness, and the next moment some mis
sile struck the galley a sharp rap.
There was more cursing, and a mock
ing laugh, and when all was quiet 1
stole outside and found a heavy knife
imbedded over an inch in the solid
wood. A few minutes later the mate
came fumbling about in search of it,
but I returned it privily to Leach next
day. He grinned when I handed it"
over, yet it was a grin that contained
more sincere thanks than a multitude
of the verbosities of speech common
to the members of my own class.
Unlike anyone else in the ship’s
company, I now found myself with no
quarrels on my hands and in the good
graces of all. The hunters possibly
no more than tolerated me, though
none of them disliked me; while
Smoke and Henderson, convalescent
under a deck awning and swinging day
and night in their hammocks, assured
me that I was better than any hospital
nurse and that they would not forget
me at the end of the voyage when
they were paid off. (As though I stood
In need of their money! I, who could
have bought them out. bag and bag
gage, and the schooner and its equip
ment, a score of times over!) But
upon me had devolved the task of tend
ing their wounds, and pulling them
through, and 1 did my best by them.
Wolf Larsen underwent another bad
attack of headache which lasted two
days. He must have suffered severely,
for he called me in, and obeyed my
commands like a sick child. But
nothing I could do seemed to relieve
hhn. At my suggestion, however, he
gave up smoking and drinking; though
why such a magnificent animal as he
should have headaches at all puzzles
me.
I talked with Johansen last night—
the first superfluous words with which
he has favored me since the voyage
began. He left Sweden when he was
eighteen, is now thirty-eight, and in
all the intervening time has not been
home once. He had met a townsman,
a couple of years before, in some
Bailor boarding house in Chile, so that
be knew his mother to be still alive.
‘‘She must be a pretty old woman
bow,” he said, staring meditatively
Into the binnacle and then jerking a
sharp glance at Harrison, who was
Bteering a point off the course.
“But does she work? now? How old
Is she?"
“About seventy,” he answered. And
then, boastingly, “We work from the
time we are born until we die, in my
country. That’s why we live so long.
I will live to a hundred.”
1 shall never forget this conversa
tion The words were the last I ever
heard him utter. Perhaps they were
the last he did utter, too. For, going
down into the cabin to turn in. 1 de
SNAPS THIEF AT HIS WORK
Automatic Device That Photographs
Burglar While In the Act of
Plying His Trade.
For the fellow who would rather
■teal than work, life is getting harder
ell the time, says the Birmingham
Age-Herald.
Take the case of the thief who
broke into a photographic studio in
Belleville, 111., the other day. From
the viewpoint of the prowler, a photo
graph shop ought to be juite safe for
the plying of his trade. Nothing more
dangerous than the chemicals would
be expected in such a place—and like
wise little of value to any save tue
photographer would be found there.
But the owner of the studio in Belle
ville had been fearful of robbery for
some time. Therefore he installed an
automatic device to photograph the
interior of his studio at stated inter
vals, the device being operated by
ordinary burglar alarm apparatus.
Now the photographer is out,consid
er ib * photographic cupplies, but be
cided that it was too stuffy to sleep
below. It was a calm night. We were
out of the trades, and the Ghost was
forging ahead barely a knot an hour.
So I tucked a blanket and pillow un
der my arm and went up on deck.
As I passed between Harrison and
the binnacle, which was built into the
top of the cabin, I noticed that he was
this time fully three points off. His
eyes were wide and staring. He
seemed greatly perturbed.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. "Are
you sick?”
He shook his head, and with a deep
sigh, as of awakening, caught his
breath.
“You'd better get on your course,
then.” I chided.
He put a few spokes over, and 1
watched the compass card swing
slowly to NNW and steady itself with
slight oscillations.
I took a fresh hold on my bed
clothes and was preparing to start
on, when some movement caught my
eye and I looked astern to the rail.
A sinewy hand, dripping with water,
was clutching the rail. A second hand
took form in the darkness beside it.
1 watched, fascinated. What visitant
from the gloom of the deep was I to
behold? Whatever it was, 1 knew that
it was climbing aboard by the log
line. I saw a head, the hair wet and
straight, shape itself, and then the un
mistakable eyes and face of Wolf
Larsen. His right cheek was red with
blood, which flowed from some wound
in the head.
He drew himself inboard with a
quick effort, and arose to his feet,
glancing swiftly, as he did so, at the
man at the wheel, as though to assure
himself of his identity and that there
was nothing to fear from him. The
sea water was streaming from him.
It made little audible gurgles which
distracted me. As he stepped toward
me I shrank back instinctively, for I
saw that in his eyes which spelled
death.
All right. Hump he said in a low
voice. "Where's the mate?”
I shook my head.
"Johansen!” he called softly. "Jo
hansen!”
"Where is he?” he demanded of
Harrison.
The young fellow seemed to have
recovered his composure, for he an
swered steadily enough, “1 don’t
know, sir. I saw him go forward a
little while ago.”
“So did I go for’ard. But I didn’t
come back the way 1 went. Can
you explain it?”
“You must have been overboard,
sir.”
“Shall I look for him In the steer
age. sir?” 1 asked.
Wolf Larsen shook his head. “You
wouldn’t find him. Hump. But you’ll
do. Come on. Never mind your, bed
ding. Leave it where it is.”
I followed at his heels. There was
nothing stirring amidships.
“Those cursed hunters,” was his
comment. “Too damned fat and lazy
to stand a four-hour watch.”
But on the forecastle head we
found three sailors asleep. He turned
them over and looked at their faces.
They composed the watch on deck,
and it was the ship's custom, in good
weather, to let the watch sleep with
the exception of the officer, the
helmsman and the lookout.
"Who’s the lookout?” he demanded.
“Me, sir,” answered Holyoak, one
of the deep-water sailors, a slight tre
mor in his voice. “I winked off just
this very minute, sir. I'm sorry, sir.
It won’t happen again.”
“Did you hear or see anything on
deck?”
“No, sir, I—”
But Wolf Larsen had turned away
with a snort of disgust, leaving the
sailor rubbing his eyes with surprise
at having been let off so easily.
“‘Softly, now,” Wolf Larsen warned
me in a whisper, as he doubled his
body into the forecastle scuttle and
prepared to descend.
I followed with a quaking heart.
What was to happen I knew no more
than did I know what had happened.
But blood had been shed, and it was
through no whim of Wolf Larsen that
he had gone over the side with his
scalp laid open. Besides, Johansen
was missing.
It was my first descent into the fore
castle, and I shall not soon forget my
impression of it. It smelled sour and
musty, and by the dim light of the
swinging sea-lamp I saw every bit of
available wall space hung deep with
sea-boots, oilskins and garments,
clean and dirty, of various sorts.
is able to furnish the police the very
best kind of a description of the thief.
In fact, he turned over several photo
graphs of the burglar at work—one
of which shows him in the act of put
ting a lens into his pocket.
Once the thief is caught there should
be no difficulty in proving his guilt—
tho photograpi*. being powerful though
silent witnesses.
Herein is a suggestion which may
well be taken advantage of by manu
facturers of burglar alarm apparatus,
for if it worked so well in the photo
graphic studio, it might prove effec
tive as a protection to bank vaults
and other repositories of valuables.
It's hard on the thief, of course, but
then burglary is getting rather un
popular as an occupation, anyway.
Not a Mourning Suit.
Browning—‘‘1 Just met Whyte on
his way downtown to recover bis son s
body.” Greening—“What! Du you
mean to tell me that bis son was
drowned?" Browning—“Oh. no. but
his father said he jeeded a new suit
of clothes."
Though it was a mild night on the
sea, there was a continual chorus of
the creaking timbers and bulkheads
and of abysmal noises beneath the
flooring.
The sleepers did not mind. There
were eight of them—the two watches
below—and the air was thick with
the warmth and odor of their breath
ing, and the ear was filled with the
noise of their snoring and of their
sighs and half-groans, tokens plain
of the rest of the animal-man. But
were they sleeping? all of them? Or
had they been sleeping? This was evl-1
dently Wolf Larsen's quest—to find
the men who appeared to be asleep
and who were not asleep or who had
not been asleep very recently. And
he went about it in a way that re
minded me of a story out of Boccac
cio.
He took the sea-lamp from its
swinging frame and handed it to me.
He began at the first bunks forward
on the starboard side. In the top of
one lay Oofty-Gofty, a Kanaka and
splendid seaman, so named by his
mates. He was asleep on his back
and breathing as placidly as a woman.
One arm was under his head, the
other lay on top of the blankets. Wolf
Larsen put thumb and forefinger to
the wrist and counted the poise. In
the midst of it the Kanaka roused. He
awoke as gently as he slept. There
was no movement of the body what
ever. The eyes, only, moved. They
flushed wide open, big and black, and
stared, unblinking, into our faces.
Wolf Larsen put his finger to his lips
as a sign for silence, and the eyes
closed again.
In the lower bunk lay Louis, gross
ly fat and warm and sweaty, asleep
unfeignedly and sleeping laboriously.
While Wolf Larsen held his wrist he
stirred uneasily.
Satisfied with the honesty of his
and the Kanaka’s sleep, Wolf Larsen
passed on to the next two bunks on
the starboard side, occupied top and
bottom, as we saw in the light of
the sea-lamp, by Leach and Johnson.
As Wolf Larsen bent down to the
lower bunk to take Johnson’s pulse. I.
standing erect and bolding the lamp,
saw Leach’s head raise stealthily as
he peered over the side of the bunk to
see what was going on. He must have
divined Wolf Larsen’s trick and the
Wolf Larsen Put Finger to the Wrist
and Counted the Pulse.
sureness of detection, for the light
was at once dashed from my hand
and the forecastle left in darkness. He
must have leaped, also, at the same
instant, straight down on Wolf Lar
sen.
The first sounds were those of a
conflict between a bull and a wolf.
I heard a great, infuriated bellow go
up from Wolf Larsen, and from Leach
a snarling that was desperate and
blood-curdling. Johnson must have
joined him immediately, so that his
abject and groveling conduct on deck
the past few days had been no more
than planned deception.
I was so terror-stricken by this
fight in the dark that I leaned against
the ladder, trembling and unable to
ascend. And upon me was that old
sickness at the pit of the stomach,
caused always by the spectacle of
physical violence. In this instance I
could not see but I could hear the im
pact of the blows—the soft, crushing
sound made by flesh striking forcibly
CUTTING OUT WASTE MOTION
Unnecessary Fatigue May Be Avoided
and Much Greater Amount of
Work Accomplished.
"There is no waste of any kind in
the world that equals the waste from
needless, ill-directed and ineffective
motions, and their resulting unneces
sary fatigue.”
This remark was made in a talk be
fore the American Academy of Poli
tical and Social Science by Frank B.
Gilbreth, the man who discovered lost
motions in bricklaying and who hae
since devoted his time to scientific
motion study.
Devising ways of preventing this
waste is now occupying a great deal of
attention, and bringing to economy of
labor the application of scientific prin
ciples has caused a readjustment of
working conditions in many Indus
tries. The application of so-called effi
ciency methods in business means
siw.'ly showing an exact regard for
the relation of labor to a given task
i sc that there shall oe no waste effort.
I/TTTthis tale\
f 1 JACK LON-\ I
f DON’S SEA EX- JJ
Iperience is
\jgED WITH ALL A
TH^POWER^pF^J
-his-vjrileIeen -
against flesh. Then there was tho
crashing about of the entwined bodies,
the labored breathing, the short, quick
gasps of sudden pain.
There must have been more men in
the conspiracy to murder the captain
and mate, for by the sounds I knew
that Leach and Johnson had been
quickly re-enforced by some of their
mates.
"Get a knife, somebody!" Leach
was shouting.
"Pound him on the head! Mash
his brains out!" was Johnson's cry.
But after his first bellow. Wolf Lar
sen made no noise. He was fighting
grimly and silently for his life. He
was sore beset. Down at the very
first, he had been unable to gain his
feet, and for all of his tremendous
strength I felt that there was no hope
for him.
The force with which they struggled
was vividly impressed on me; for I
was knocked down by their surging
bodies and badly bruised. But in the
confusion I managed to crawl into an
empty lower bunk out of the way.
“All hands! We’ve got him! We've
got him!” I could hear Leach crying.
“Who?” demanded those who had
been really asleep, and who had wak
ened to they knew not what.
"It’s the bloody mate!” was Leach's
crafty answer, strained from him in a
smothered sort of way.
This was greeted with whoops of
joy, and from then on Wolf Larsen had
seven strong men on top of him, Louis,
I believe, taa-ng no part in it. The
forecastle was like an angry hive of
bees aroused by some marauder.
“What ho! below there!” I heard
Latimer shout down the scuttle, too
cautious to descend into the inferno
of passion he could hear raging be
neath him in the darkness.
Wont somebody get a knife?
Leach pleaded in the first interval of
comparative silence.
The number of the assailants was a
cause of confusion. They blocked
their own efforts, while Wolf Larsen,
with but a single purpose, achieved
his. This was to fight his way across
the floor to the ladder. Though in total
darkness, I followed his progress by its
sound. No man less than a giant could
have done what he did, once he had
gained the foot of the ladder. Step by
step, by the might of his arms, the
whole pack of men striving to drag
him back and down, he drew his body
up from the floor till he stood erect.
And then, step by step, hand and foot,
he slowly struggled up the ladder.
The very last of all, I saw. For
Latimer, having finally gone for a lan
tern, held it so that its light shone
down the scuttle. Wolf Larsen was
nearly to the top, though I could not
see him. All that was visible was the
mass of men fastened upon him. It
squirmed about, like some huge many
legged spider, and swayed back and
forth to the regular roll of the vessel.
And still, step by step, with long in
tervals between, the mass ascended.
Once it tottered, about to fall back,
but the broken hold was regained and
it still went up.
“Who is it?" Latimer cried.
In the rays of the lantern I could
see his perplexed face peering down.
"Larsen,” I heard a muffled voice
from within the mass.
Latimer reached down with his free
hand. I saw a hand shoot up to clasp
his. Latimer pulled, and the next cou
ple of steps were made with a rush.
Then Wolf Larsen's other hand
reached up and clutched the edge of
the scuttle. The mass swung clear of
the ladder, the men still clinging to
their escaping foe. They began to
drop off, to be brushed off against the
sharp edge of the scuttle, to be
knocked off by the legs which were
now kicking powerfully. Leach was
the last to go, falling sheer back from
the top of the scuttle and striking on
head and shoulders upon his sprawling
mates beneath. Wolf Larsen and the
lantern disappeared, and we were left
in darkness.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Draw Power From Air.
The mission settlement at ML Hope,
100 miles north of the arctic circle,
in Alaska, is contemplating the instal
lation of an electric lighting plant to
be driven by large windmills. During
the long arctic winter the steady
winds in that region seldom fall be
low 20 miles an hour, which is ample
for driving the power plant. Since
fuel of any kind is exceedingly ex
pensive in that region, the power will
serve the dual purpose of illuminating
and heating.
Our offices and factories are being re
adjusted so that time and unneces
sary steps shall be saved.
Establishing motion standards for
the performance of routine work has
resulted in increased output and in
creased wages, with an accompanying
decrease in cost. Mr. Gilbreth points
out that most of us do not stop to
think about the time we waste in the
performance of ordinary duties.
It is declared that what motion
study has done for the industry it will
do for all human activities, and that
a little more clear thinking about the
things we do—a little less senseless
hurry—and at the end of the day we
will have attained greater accomplish
ment, *with less fatigue, and will ha
in better sorts with ourselves and the
world.
Misinformed.
Singleton—I am told yon cursed the
day you were married. Is it true?
Wedderly—No, it wasn’t quite that
bad. 1 didn’t curse until the day after.
Envy has torpedoed many • friend
ship.
(Copyright. 1916. by W. G. Chapman.)
“I’m through!"
Roland Dalton looked it. Young,
handsome, well dressed, sober, ener
getic, ambitious—this had been his
record "on the Hoard” for two years,
but just now' there was in his face an
appalling discouragement.
”See here. Jerry," he said to his
trader and manager, "there’s no need
to publish it, but I don’t dare to gc
any further. If I did, it would be on
baseless credit and I'll take no chance
with other people’s money."
“But, sir, we owe nothing, the decks
are clear—”
“And I’m going to quit, while they
are. You follow orders. Pay off
every bill and close up the office. I'll
pay you and Miss Blount a month’s
salary ahead. I'll leave each of you a
first-class recommendation to Burtelle j
& Co., who w ill be glad of'your serv- I
ices. I’m going up into Wisconsin and |
get as far away from the hubbub and ;
worry as I can for a month. Then 1
think I’ll strike out for the coast and
begin all over again.”
Loyal Jerry’ Watson’s lips puckered.
Marcia Blount, at the typewriter, was
white as a sheet. Dalton stole a
glance at her and he gulped down a
sigh. Shattered business, a shattered,
though half-fledged, romance—it was
pitiful!
“Close up the office and tell any in
quirer that I'm off for a rest.” pro
ceeded Dalton, "but pay everybody
“I’m Through!”
•
and let Dalton & Co. fade away with
out any sensation."
“But, sir," expostulated Jerry,
“things aren't so bad as you think.
We’re square. Well, then, how about
the big broomcorn consignment?”
Dalton shook bis head drearily.
“Jerry,” he said, “the market's down
on that and may stay down.”
“But the ten thousand dollar option,
sir?’
“I’ll lose it rather than take the lot
and involve others in loss. No, I'm
through, I tell you, for good.”
Then Roland Dalton went away,
reckless, desperate. Jerry stood look
ing about him like a lost soul. Miss
Blount was crying softly.
“I never thought he’d flunk!” mut
tered Jerry. “Well, we’re through,
too. It’s a new job for both of us, I’m
thinking.”
“I will stay and get everybody
checked up.” volunteered the pretty
stenographer. "You’re feeling blue,
sir. Go home and forget it all.”
Jerry was seated in the midst of
his family that evening when Miss
Blount unexpectedly intruded. She
looked excited and exhilarated.
“Mr. Watson.” she announced, “two
strange things happened at the office
after you left.”
“Yes?” murmured Jerry, interroga
tively.
"The first was a notification that
our people at Aberdeen had shipped
the entire broomcorn consignment.”
“Why!” fairly shouted Jerry, in dire
consternation, “a million dollars’
worth! No market! Freight charges
a small fortune in themselves! A ten
thousand dollar forfeit up!”
“Don’t yon see.” suggested Marcia,
eagerly, “they are banking on the
good credit of our house. They are not
afraid to trust Mr. Dalton.”
“But, my dear Miss Blount,” ex
claimed Jerry, “there is absolutely no
demand for the stuff, the quotations
are disastrously below the profit point,
no one can handle it on our contract
price without a disastrous loss, and we
simply cannot take it!”
“We must!”
Never had Jerry Watson seen so
determined a look on the little lady’s
face. There was power unutterable in
the expression.
“Mr. Watson,” she said, resolutely,
and there was a tremulous thrill in
her voice, “I am not willing that an
opportunity should be allowed to pass
unregarded, after his extreme kind
ness to us, that may mean the rehabi
litation of Mr. Dalton’s business.”
“But that is impossible!”
“So I thought until, just after re
ceiving the telegram from the broom
corn people, Ned Prossee came into
the office.”
“That kid,” ejaculated Watson, du
biously. “What’s he got to do with
it?”
“Everything. You remember I got
him his position with Vermilye & Co.
He is a grateful little fellow. He al
ways boasted he would do great things
for us some day. Well, he comes into
the office this afternoon, all excite
ment. ‘I’ve got the straight tip/ he
declared. 'Vermilye & Co. are going
to run a corner in stpck feed and
broomcorn. They are going to rush
the market up twenty to thirty points
delivery day, and hold it there. It’s
a sure play—any good to you?’ Mr.
I Watson, it it> more than good to us—II
is the salvation of our business!”
“Allowing we can depend upon the
tip, where is the capital coming from
to carry the stuff until settling day?'
“I have thought it all out,” respond
ed Marcia. "The Dalton credit is
good—isn't the Dalton word a powei
everywhere? We will go to the bank
and borrow sufficient to cover carrying
charges. Then—oh! I have blocked
it all out. We cannot fail. We will
send confidential word to all our
clients. We will give them the tip of
a corner. We will guarantee ten point?
profit within thirty days.”
“A daring scheme!” fairly gasped
Jerry. “And how about the payment?
to the broomcorn people?”
“Why, that is simple. As we sell
to our clients, we will borrow on oui
bills of lading. That will make us
square all the way around. We can
certainly place half our consignment
for cash. The amount we realize wil!
satisfy our shippers. When the
squeeze comes in this market we will
release the actual stuff in warehouse
to supply the shorts, get the highest
price and close out at a big profit.”
"It's a dream!” spoke Jerry, musing?
Iv—"but it looks tangible. I'm willing
Go ahead with the scheme.”
Three weeks later Roland Dalton
’eft his remote solitude, which no gos
sip or newspaper had invaded. On
the train bound for the city he sat
spellbound, as his eye scanned the
commercial column of the first news
paper lie had seen for nearly a month
It was the graphic story %f the
broomcorn corner in Chicago. It told I
of the wonderful coup that had given
Dalton & Co. practical control of the
market and a profit of a quarter of a
million dollars!
Dalton burst into the office two days
later. It wore an air of briskness
and prosperity. Jerry beamed upon
him. Marcia stood flushing, eager,
trembling like a child who had as
sumed a daring initiative and won
dered if the result would be punish
ment or appreciation.
“What have you two been doing
here?” challenged Dalton, and then
Jerry told, and Dalton added. “Come
into my private office until I discipline
you.”
Out of it Jerry came a few minutes
later. His eyes were aglow\ He held
in his hand a little strip of paper. It
was a check for more money than ho
had ever thought of possessing. He
nodded to Marcia, who took her way
to the “inquisitorial room.”
Roland Dalton poured forth his surg
ing soul to the loyal girl who had
saved the house on the point of col
lapse.
Dalton & Co. were tq take in two
new partners—herself and Jerry. She
was to send to her widowed mother
in a distant country town sufficient
to make her comfortable for life.
Further:
“I say, they're in there a long time!''
murmured Jerry Watson, and then.?es
the door finally opened and Marcia
and Dalton came forth hand in hand,
the chuckling old fellow understood
that love as well as sucess had come
to the house of Dalton & Co.
Why “Pin Money.”
For a long time after pins were in
vented in the fourteenth century they
were used only by the wealthy. It j
cost so much to manufacture them
that the poor and even the middlo
classes could not afford them. Each
pin was made by filing one end of a
wire of the proper length to a point,
and then twisting a piece of finer wire
about the other end. The complete
process is said to have involved about
thirteen different operations, requir
ing as many different persons. In 1797
Timothy Harris of England succeeded
in making the first solid-headed pin.
In 1824 an American named Wright
made a great improvement over Har
ris’ method, and in 1831 John I. Howe
of New York city invented a machine
for making pins as we now have them.
At one period, when pins were ex
pensive luxuries, it was customary to
give a young lady a certain amount
on her marriage for “pin money.” Tho
custom disappeared long ago, but the
term "pin money” remains.
_—- I
Snowsheds a Necessity.
Travelers passing through the Sierra
Nevadas during the winter are famil
iar with the peculiar sights that follow
a heavy snowfall not accompanied
with wind, for they have seen build
ings completely buried from view, the
only indication of their presence be
^ing a mound of snow shaped like the
roof. They have seen small buildings
with snow perhaps ten feet deep on
the roof, and posts with such a big
white cap that they looked like giant
mushrooms.
At numerous points snow twenty
five feet deep on the level is not un
common, and a one-story building,
buried to the eaves, is a frequent
sight. This peculiar condition in the
Sierras was the cause for building the
snowsheds, which extend 32 miles
along the railway tracks between Blue
canyon and the Truckee. Without
these sheds the railroad could not be
operated, but their cost is enormous.
Unexpected Cigar Smoker.
James Payn tells us that Harriet
Martineau smoked cigars! She was
told it was good for deafness and
tried it. He supplied her with a mild
brand, and says he smoked with her
often. Yet she would b^ the last
guess, the most unlikely pufTer of the
weed in the whole category of famous
women! One would almost as soon
think of Hannah More or Susannah
Wesley having an after-dinner ciga
rette!
Horse Not Really Intelligent.
Horses are generally given credit for
a great deal more intelligence than
they actually possess. Scientific tests
show that in wisdom such as human
beings display, horses are hopelessly
outclassed by dogs, monkeys, and even
by cats. The horse can be taught to
do certain things just because he is
too stupid to have ideas of his own.
Like many human prize pupils, he can
learn but cannot think.
Screw Propeller Qld Device.
That a patent for a screw-propelled
steam vessel had been issued as far
back as 1803 recently was discovered
in the French patent office.
WOMAN HAD
NEBVOAIS TROUBLE
Lydia EL Pinkham's Vegeta
ble Compound Helped Her.
West Danby, N. Y.—"I have had
nervous trouble all my life until I took
Lydia E. Pinkham a
Vegetable Com
pound for nerves
and for female trou
bles and it straight
ened me out in good
shape. I work nearly
all the time, as we
live on a farm and I
have four girls. I do
all my 6ewing and
other work with
their help, so it
snows tnat l stand it real well. X took
the Compound when my ten year old
daughter came and it helped me a lot.
I have also had my oldest girl take it
and it did her lots of good. I keep it in
the house all the time and recommend
it.”—Mrs. Dewitt Sincebaugh, West
Danby, N. Y.
Sleeplessness, nervousness, irritabil
ity, backache, headaches, dragging sen
sations, all point to female derange
ments which may be overcome by Lydia
E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound.
This famous remedy, the medicinal
ingredients of which are derived from
native roots and herbs, has for forty
years proved to be a most valuable tonic
and invigorator of the female organism.
Women everywhere bear willing testi
mony to the wonderful virtue of Lydia
E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound.
In the Suburbs.
“Why do you believe your neighbor
is a confirmed bachelor?”
“By the language of flowers.”
"How does that tell you?”
“Yesterday he dug up the matri
mony vine on the wall, and this morn
ing 1 caught him sowing bachelors'
buttons.”
SYRUPOFFIGSFOR
It is cruel to force nauseating,
harsh physic into a
sick child.
Look back at your childhood days.
Remember the ‘‘dose" mother insisted
on—castor oil, calomel, cathartics.
How you hated them, how you fought
against taking them.
With our children it's different.
Mothers who cling to the old form of
physic simply don t realize what they
do. The children’s revolt is well-found
ed. Their tender little “insides" are
injured by them.
If your child’s stomach, liver and
bowels need cleansing, give only deli
cious "California Syrup of Figs." Its
action is positive, but gentle. Millions
of mothers keep this harmless “fruit
laxative" handy; they know children
love to take it; that it never fails to
clean the liver and bowels and sweet
en the stomach, and that a teaspoonful
given today saves a sick child tomor
row.
Ask at the store for a 50-cent bottle
of "California Syrup of Figs,” which
has full directions for babies, children
of all ages and for grown-ups plainly
on each bottle. *Adv.
Procrastination is the thief of time
—and the plunder cannot be recov
ered.
For a really fine coffee at a mod
erate price, drink Denison's Seminole
Brand, 35c the lb„ in sealed cans.
Only one merchant in each town
■ells Seminole. If your grocer isn't
the one, write the Denison Coffee Co.,
Chicago, for a souvenir and the name
of your Seminole dealer.
Buy the 3 lb. Canister Can for $1.00.
—Adv.
Most of the crazy people we know
have managed to sidetrack the asylum
bo far.
Achy Joints Give Warning
A creaky joint often predicts rain. It
may also mean that the kidneys are not
filtering the poisonous uric acid from the
blood. Had backs, rheumatic pains, sore,
aching joints, headaches, dizziness and
urinary disorders are all effects of weak
kidneys and if nothing is done, there’s
danger of more serious trouble. Use
Doan’* Kidnmy Pill*, the best recom
mended kidney remedy.
An Iowa Case
John W. Wright.
1022 Sixth St..
Knoxville. Iowa,
eays: "Four years
ago I had an at
t a c k of rheuma
tism in one of my
arms and the pain
wasawful. At
times I couldn’t lift
my arm without
sharp twinges dart
ing through it. 1
Anally got Doan’s
Kidney Pills and
had taken them only a short time be
fore I found relief. Two boxes per
manently cured me.’’
Gat Doan’s at Aar Stora. 50c a Bax
DOAN'S VXSV
FOSTER-M1LBLRN CO. BUFFALO. I*. Y.
Your Liver
Is'Clogged Up
That’s Why You’re Tired—Out of Sorts
—Hare No Appetite.
CARTER’S LITTi
LIVER PILLS
will put you right
in a few days.
They do
their duty.
Cure Con
stipation, — -—,
Biliousness, Indigestion and Sick Headache
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE.
Genuine must bear Signature
W. N. U, OMAHA, NO. 10-1916.^