^eAUCTIOA block
A XOVZL OF AEW YORIC LIFE I-7T~7--1
_ __ __ v ^ Author of >
^rCEX DEACft t T rutt&t
ILLUSTRATIONS 4^rPARKER.
SYNOPSIS.
Peter Knight, defeated for political of
fice in his town, decides to venture New
York in order that the family fortunes
■might benefit by the expected rise of his
charming daughter, Lorelei. A well
knCwn critic interviews Lorelei Knight,
now stage beauty with Bergman's Revue,
for a special article. Her coin-hunting
mother outlines Lorelei’s ambitions, but
Blosson.' the press agent, later adds his
Information. Lorelei attends Millionaire
Mammon’s gorgeous entertainment. She
meets Merkle. a wealthy dyspeptic Bob
Wharton comes uninvited. Lorelei dis
covers a blackmail plot against Hammon.
in which her brother is Involved. Merkle
and Lorelei have an auto wreck. The
blackmailers besmirch her good nam-'.
I<orelei iearns her mother is an unscru
pulous plotter. She finds in Adoree Rem
oreet a real friend, and finds Bob Whar
ton is likable.
6 i<
If A decent young woman in
public life is forced to leave her
parents because they have no
regard for her reputation. She
§| needs money and needs it badly. ►«£
j A rich man offers her ten thou- ►♦«
$ sand dollars. He says there are [♦]
►$ no strings to the gift—that he »J
merely wants to be kind. Dare
V she take it? Lorelei’s dilemma is $
►*< set forth in interesting detail in >♦<
V this installment. V
V V
►J A
Lorelei flnds'she cannot live long
er with her rascally parents. Merkle,
the banker, has just offered to give
her ten thousand dollars. They are
discussing the proposition.
CHAPTER XI—Continued.
“Why do you offer me so much?”
she asked, curiously.
“Because I like you— Oh, I mean
‘like.’ not ‘Jove!’ Because I think
you’re good and will need money to
remain good. You’re not an ordinary
woman. Miss Knight: you can’t live as
ordinary women live, now that you’re
famous. New York won’t let you.”
"You’re very kind and generous
after all that has occurred and after
knowing my reason for being here.”
“My dear child, you didn’t choose
your family, and as for the other, the
women of my set marry for money,
just as yon plan to do. So do women
everywhere, for that matter, and many
of them make excellent wives—yes,
far better than if they had married
poor men. Few girls as beautiful as
you in any walk of life are allowed to
marry for love. Trust me. a woman
like you, if she lives up to the obli
gations of wifehood, deserves better
than one who takes a man for love
and then perhaps goes back on her bar
gain. Will you accept my offer?"
“No. But I thank you.”
“Think it over; there is no hurry,
and remember I want to help." With
one of his infrequent, wan smiles, he
extended his hand, and Lorelei grasped
it warmly, though her face was set
and strained.
She was far too well balanced for
hasty resolutions, but her mind, once
made up. was seldom changed. It dis
tressed her grievously to leave her
people, but at the thought of remain
ing longer with them every instinct
rebelled. Her own kin, urged by
greed, had not hesitated to cheapen
and degrade her; their last offense,
coupled with all that had gone before,
was more than could be borne. Yet
she was less resentful than sad, for It
seemed to her that this was the be
ginning of the end. First the father
had been crippled, then the moral fiber
of the whole family had disintegrated
until the mother had become a harpy,
the brother a scamp, and she, Lorelei,
a shameless hunter of men. Now the
home tie. that last bond of respect
ability, was to be broken.
Her first impulse was to take up her
abode with Adoree Demorest, but a
little thought showed the inadvisability
of that. In her doubt she appealed to
Lilas, broaching the subject as the two
girls were dressing after the perform
ance.
When Lorelei had made known her
decision, the other girl nodded her ap
proval.
“I don’t blame you a bit; a girl needs
liberty. I have five rooms, and a Jap
to take care of them; they're lovely.”
“I can’t afford an expensive place.”
"Well, there are some three-room
flats in the rear, and—I have It! Ger
tie Moore kept one, but she’s gone on
tiie road. It's all furnished, too. If
it hasn’t been sublet you eau get it at
your own terms. The building is re
spectable, too; It’s as proper as the
Hit*. I'm dining alone touight. Come
to dinner with me and we'll find out
all about it.”
Lorelei would have preferred a dif
ferent location, not particularly desir
ing to be near Lilas; but there was no
time In which to look about, and the
necessity that faced her made any
assistance welcome. Without more
discussions she agreed, and the two
girls rode uptown together.
The Elegancia, where Lilas lived,
was a painfully new, overelaborate
building, with a Gothic front and a
Gotham rear—half its windows pasted
with rental signs. Six potted palms,
a Turkish rug and a jaundiced Jamai
can elevator boy gave an air of wel
come to the ornate marble entrance
hall.
Lilas fitted a key to the first door on
the right as they went in, explaining,
“I’m on the ground floor, and find it
very convenient.”
“This place Is too grand for me,” Lo
relei objected.
“Oh, offer your own price for Ger
tie's flat If you like It They’re crazy
for tenants. It’s cheaper than hotelo—
if you want to save money.”
Lorelei was surprised to find her
friend’s quarters not only richly but
lavishly furnished. The decorations
were harmonious and bespoke a reck
less disregard of cost ▲ fluffy Jap
anese spaniel with protruding eyes and
distorted visage capered deliriously at
its mistress' feet.
But the objects that intrigued the
visitor most strongly were several
paintings. They were of a kind she
had seldom seen, and in the afternoon
light one stood out with particularly
startling effect. It was a dusky land
scape; there was a stream, a meadow
edge, trees just growing black against
a dying sunset, a herd of cattle com
ing out of the west. Before this pic
ture Lorelei paused, staring with wide
eyes of wonder.
Lilas flung her hat cayelessly into a
chair, lit a cigarette from a Tiflfany
humidor, then turned with the spaniel
in her arms and, beholding her guest
witli rapt, upturned face, remarked,
with a laugh;
“Looks like the real thing, doesn’t it?”
“Oh—it's wonderful—so clean and
cool and quiet: I've seen cattle In Vale
that looked just like those, when I
went barefoot in the grass.”
“Some Dutchman painted it—his
name’s on the corner. He's dead now.
I believe. It used to hang in some
museum—I forget where. I like pic
tures of women best, but—” She
shrugged and left the sentence unfin
ished. “There's a dandy in my bed
room. although It didn’t cost half as
much as that barnyard thing. The
frame's a foot wide and covered with
solid gold.”
“I had no idea you lived like this.”
Lorelei peered through a pair of
French doors and into a perfectly ap
pointed library, with a massive mahog
any table, deep lounging chairs, a writ
ing desk, and a dome-crowned read
ing lamp.
“My study.” Lilas laughed, sbortly.
“That's where I improve my mind—
not. The books are deadly. Now come;
Hitchy Koo must have dinner ready.
His name isn't Hitchy Koo. but it
sounds like it. and he’s 'the cutest
little thing; got the cutest little
swing.’ ” She moved down the hall,
humming the chorus of the senseless
popular song from which she had
quoted.
Everywhere was the same evidence
of good taste in decoration and luxury
of equipment, but a suspicion had en
tered Lorelei’s mind, and she avoided
comment. Hitchy Koo was cook, but
ler and bouse-l}o.v. and in view of Miss
Lynn’s disorderly habits it was evi
dent that he had all he could do to
keep the place presentable. His mis
tress ate without appetite and in a
hypercritical mood that took no ac
count of the wasteful attempts to
please her. Quite regardless of the pa
tient little .Tap, she found fault with
him savagely, so that Lorelei was
often painfully embarrassed.
“So you like my home, do you?” she
queried, after a time.
“I’ve never seen one so beautiful.”
Lilas nodded. “Hitchy sleeps out.
and that leaves me the whole place.
Jarvis furnished it, even to the books,
and I’m studying to be a lady.” Again
she laughed mockingly. “I make a
bluff at reading, but so long as 1 talk
about Napoleon he never thinks to
question me. I know that French gii:k
backward.”
“I wish I had a hobby—something to
interest me, something to live for.”
said Lorelei, lamely.
"Yes. It gives you something to
think about when you’re alone. It
helps you to—stnnd things.” For the
first time Liias showed a trace of feel
“I Was an Imaginative Kid,” She Con
tinued.
lug in her voice; she dropped her chin
into her palm and, leaning upon the
table, stared as if at a vision. Her
dark eyes were somber, her brows
were lowered and drawn together.
The slipshod informality of the meal,
the constant faultfinding of the host
ess, made it something of a trial. Lore
lei was not sorry when it was over
and Lilas took her to look at the va
cant flat.
Miss Moore's apartment offered a
wide contrast to the one they had Just
quitted, being very small and very
modestly furnished; but it was on the
second floor, convenient to both eleva
tor and stairway, it boasted a piano,
and the superintendent allowed his
prospective tenant to name her own
terms. She descended with relief, feel
ing that ahe had made not a bad bar
gain.
She stated, as ahe sank into Lilas’
big library chair, “I feel quite inde
1 pendent at last. The rent is ridicu
lous, and I can do my own cooking."
‘T»on’t make a fool of yourself. Yon
can do as well as I've done. You have
the looks.”
"But I’m not engaged to a multimil
lionaire.”
“It seems queer, when I think of it,”
Lilas mused. "Jarvis is one of the
richest men In New York, and he made
his money out of the steel business—
the business into which I was born.
Have you ever been through a mill?’’
“No.”
“it’s wonderful, terrible. I can smell
tile hot slag, the scorching cinders, the
smoke, to this day. Some nights I
wake up—screaming, it’s so vivid. I
see the glare of the furnaces, the belch
ing flames, the showers of sparks front
the converters, the streams of white
hot metal, and they seem to pour over
me. I have the same drdam always;
I’ve had it ever since the night after
my father was killed.”
“You told me he was killed In a steel
mill.”
“Yes. before my eyes. I saw it.”
Lilas shuddered. “I was a little girl
then, but I’ve never forgotten. We
were poor, dreadfully poor, like all the
Jews— Oh, yes: didn’t you know I’m
a Jew?”
“Then ‘Lilas Lynn’—?”
“Stage name. It's really Lily Le
vinskl. We were Polish. I was
dragged up. along with the other work
men's children, in the soot and grime
of the Pennsylvania mills. “Hell must
be like those mills—it couldn't be
worse."
Lorelei had never heard her room
mate speak with such feeling nor in
such a strain. Bnt Lilas seemed quite
unconscious of her little burst of elo
quence. She was seated, leaning for
ward now with hands locked between
her knees; her eyes were brilliant in
the gathering dusk. Her memories
seemed to affect her with a kind of
horror, yet to hold her fascinated aud
to demand expression.
“I was an imaginative kid,” she
continued. “It’s a trait of our people,
like—well, like their distrust of au
thority and their fear of law. Father
worked in the Bessemer plant, like any
liunkie, and the women used to bring
the men's lunches to them. Mother
wasn’t strong, and that duty fell to me.
“It was one of the biggest mills in
Pennsylvania, and its tonnage was
always heavy because the superin
tendent was a slave driver. He was
one of those men who are born without
a soul or feelings, and he had no in
terest In anything except rails aud
plates.
“One day I took my stand just out
side the Bessemer plant. It was a big
shell of steel girders and corrugated
iron, and the side where we were was
open. Father saw me and waved his
hand—he always waved at me—then
I saw the superintendent coming
through—a big. square-faced man
whom everybody feared. Wherever
he went the huukies danced; lie could
put life into a dead man’s limbs, that
man. It was because of their great
fear of him and his furious urging that
—something happened."
l.uas uaa oeguu uer reeirai siowiy.
without apparent object, but once Into
it she seeiued unable to stop; and now.
although her words came haltingly. It
was plain that she had worked herself
into a sort of hysteria In which she
gave little heed to her hearer. It was
characteristic of her that she could
so excite herself by the power of vis
ualization as to be completely trans
ported.
“Something went wrong overhead;
anyhow, the converter dumped too
soon. Men were working directly un
derneath, father among the rest. I
saw him go down under a stream of
liquid steel—”
Lorelei's horrified exclamation went
unnoticed; Lilas’ voice was shrill.
“Yes. He was blotted out, right be
fore my eyes, in an instant. In the
time it takes to snap your finger, he—
and the others—were gone, changed
into smoke, into absolute nothingness.
There was no insurance, and nobody
took the blame. Another Jew family,
a few more widowed and fatherless
foreigners, among that army, meant
nothing. I've never forgotten that day,
nor the figure of that shouting, swear
ing man who came through the Bes
semer mill crying for more speed,
more speed, more speed.
“I suppose I was too little to make
any foolish vows of vengeance, for I
was only a ragged mite of a child
among a horde of slaves, but when i
grew older I often dreamed of having
that man in my power, and—making
him suffer. Who would—who could
have imagined that I’d ever be living
on money wrung from the labor of men
like my father, and be in a position to
meet that man on an equal footing? I
never did—not in my wildest moments,
and yet—here I am—and the day of
reckoning gets closer all the time.”
She ended with an abruptness that
evidenced her agitation. Rising, she
jerked a beaded chain that depended
from the center lamp, and the room
was flooded with mellow light; then
she drew out the table drawer at her
guest’s elbow, and with shaking bands
selected a small box from the confu
sion within. Lorelei recoiled at the
sight of a revolver hidden among the
disorder.
“Goodness! I hope it isn’t loaded,”
the latter exclaimed. “Your story gives
me the creeps and that thing—seems
to fit in.”
“It’s loaded, ail right I keep it for
protection. I don’t know why I told
you all this,” she half apologized to
Lorelei. “It has upset me, as it al
ways does.”
“How did you ever grow up and—
educate yourself?”
“I hardly know. I filled out when 1
began to get something to eat. and i
developed a good figure. Finally I got
I to be a model. I was quick to learn,
1 and when rich dames came in I
watched them. I became good-looking,
too, although not so pretty as I am
now, for I couldn’t put the time or
money on it. Then I came to New
York. The rest isn’t a pretty story.”
Miss Lynn made this declaration
calmly as she busied herself with the
glass her servant had fetched. She
dissolved a portion of the powder she
had taken from the box in the spoon,
then carefully transferred the liquid
into the cap of a pearl-and-gold foun
tain pen. Inserting the open end of
the receptacle into first one. then the
other nostril, she inhaled the con
tents.
“What are you doing?” asked Lore
lei curiously.
“Something to quiet my nerves. I—
wonder why I told you all tills?” She
eyed her guest speculatively, then
shrugged. “Well, since we're to be
neighbors, we must be friends, and
there's no harm done. Now that Jar
vis and I are engaged, he’s awfully
particular about the company I keep,
but he likes you. How different they
act when they’re in earnest! He even
wants me to quit work now, but I
like the excitement—it’s better than
waiting.” She glanced at her wrist- i
watch and drew herself together. “Our
time is up, dear; we must get back
to the show-shop.”
CHAPTER XII.
Lorelei exploded her bomb at break
fast Sunday morning, and the effect
was all she had dreaded. Fortunately
Jim had gone out. The girl’s humilia
tion at Merkle's disclosure and her
merciless accusations left little to be
said in self-defense. Of course, the
usual tears followed, likewise repe
titions of the time-worn plea that it
had all been done for Lorelei's own
good and had been prompted by unself
ish love for her.
“I’m beginning to doubt that,” Lore
lei said, slowly. “I think you all look
upon me as a piece of property to do
with as you please. Perhaps I'm dis
loyal and ungrateful, but—I can’t help
it. And I can’t forgive you yet. When
I can I’ll come home again, but it's
impossible for me to live here now,
feeling as I do. I want to love you—
so I’m—going to run away.”
Tragically, through her tears. Mrs.
Knight inquired: “What will become
of us? We can't live—Jim never does
anything for us.”
In Peter’s watery stare was abject
fright. “Lorelei wouldn’t let us suf
fer,” he ventured, tremulously. “I’m
sick. I may die any time, so the doc
tor says.” He was indeed a changed
man; that easy good-humor that had
been his most likable trait had been
lost in habitual peevishness.
“I’ll keep the house running as be
fore.” his daughter assured him. “and
I'll manage to get along on what’s left.
But you mustn’t be quite so extrava- [
gant, that’.s all. I sha'n’t be—and you !
wouldn't force me to do anything I'd
regret. I’m sure.” She choked down
her pity at the sight of the invalid's
pasty face and dabby form, then
turned to the window. Her emotion
prevented her from observing the relief
that greeted her words.
T.lie moment was painful; Lorelei's
eyes were dim. and she hardly saw the
dreary prospect of tire escapes, of
whitewashed brick, of bare, gaping
back yards overhung with clotheslines,
like nerves exposed in the process of
dissection.
“Yes, things will go on just the
same,” she repeated, then clenched
her hands and burst forth miserably:
"Oh, I know how badly you need
money! I know what the doctor says,
and—I'll get it somehow. It seems to
me I'd pay any price just to see dad
walking around again and to know
that you were both provided for.
Money, money! You both worship it,
and—I'm getting so I can’t think of
anything else. Nothing else seems
worth while.”
Two hours later a dray called for
her trunks and took them across town.
The Elegancia apartments looked
down on her with chill disapproval as
she entered; the elevator man stared
at her with black, hostile eyes until
she had made herself known; and
even the superintendent—in a less pre
tentious structure than the Elegancia
he would have been the janitor—now
that “No. G” was rented, did not extend
even a perfunctory welcome as he de
livered the keys. On the contrary, he
made known the exclusive character
of the house in such a pointed manner
as to offend her.
Lilas was out. she learned, which
probably meant that she was still
asleep. Lorelei ascended to her new
hwrne in low spirits. Now that she
saw the place in strong daylight, she
was vaguely disappointed. She was
very lonely, very friendless, and very
much discouraged. Then she noticed
the telephone and sprang toward it.
Adoree was at home; her voice an
swered cheerily, and her interruptions
of amazement and delight caused Lore
lei's message to spin Itself out unduly.
Without waiting for an invitation
Adoree cried:
“Let me come and help. Please!
We’ll use both the poodles for mops,
and I’ll be there in ten minutes. . . .
You’re a perfect dear to say yes, for
I know you want to do it all yourself.”
“Come now—quickly. I’m scared—”
Lorelei begged, In tearful tones.
“I’ll drive right up in my chariot of
flame; I was going out. and it’s wait
ing while I kalsomine my face. Are
yon sure everything is good and dirty?
Goody! We’ll do it ourselves. Good
by.”
Side by side the girls worked; they
forgot their luncheon, then sent the
sad-faced footman in search of a deli
catessen store, and ate ravenously with
a newspaper for tablecloth. By eve
uing' the [dace found itself for once iu
its life clean and orderly, and the two
occupants dressed and went out to a
nearby hotel for dinner. Returning,
they put the final touches to their task.
When Adoree left, late that night,
'the kissed her friend, saying:
‘‘Thank you for the loveliest Sunday
I ever had. It was splendid, and I’!-!
eome again tomorrow.”
The theatric*.! prefraafor. 5s fall of
women whose lives are fawlfisi: hence
it had not been difficult for Lorelei to
build up a reputation that insured re
spect. although her connection with a
Bergman show made the task more dif
ficult than it would otherwise have
been. During the two years of her
stage experience no scandal had at
tached to her name, and she had there
fore begun to feel secure. In that pe
riod she had met many men of the
usual types that are attracted by foot
light favorites, and they had pressed
attentions upon her, but so long as she
had been recognized as the Lady Un
obtainable they had not forced their
unwelcome advances. Now, however,
that a scurrilous newspaper story had
associated her name with that of a
wealthy man. she began to note a
change. Bergman’s advances had been
only another disquieting symptom of
T~-- "I 11 sill
“Money, Money! You Both Wor
ship It.”
what she had to expect—an indication
of the new color her reputation had as
sumed.
Nobel Bergman’s commercial caution
steered him wide of the moral women
lu his employ, hut the other kind, and
especially the innocent or the inexperi
enced, had cause to know and to fear
him. In appearance he was slender
and foppish: he affected a pronounced
waist line in his coats, his eyes were
large and dark and brilliant, his mouth
was sensual. He never raised his
voice, he never appeared to see plain
women: such girls as accepted his at
tentions were sure of advancement,
but paid for it in other ways.
• •»***•
On Monday evening Mr. Slosson. the
press agent, thrust his head through
Hie dressing-room door and announced
to Lorelei:
"Bergman says Mrs. Thnmpson-Bel
laire is giving a box party, and she
told him to fetch you around for sup
per. She owns a piece of this show,
and the theater belongs to the estate,
so you’ll just have to go.”
“Mercy! Mrs. Thotnpson-Bellaire. the
college lmy’s giddy godmother." I jins
mocked. "I suppose she’s out slum
ming. with her kindergarten class.”
Slosson frowned at this levity. “Will
you go?" he inquired. “Yes or no?”
"i’m-nt-I’ll have to say ‘yes.’ it
seems.”
“Good. I’ll 'phone Bergman.”
When the press agent had gone Lilas
regarded her companion with open
mmpassion. “Gee! But you're going
lo have a grand time. That bunch
think’s it's smart to be seen with show
people, and of course they’ll dance all
iflght.”
“And I did so want to go straight
hack to my new home.” When she
|oined her employer after the show she
was in no very agreeable frame of
mind.
Mrs. Thoinpson-Beliaire was a ver
milion haired widow with a chest like
s blacksmith, who had beeome famous
for her Jewels and her social eccen
tricities. She and her party wore e»
tablished at one of the uptown "Trot
tolres.” when Xohel Bergman and Lo
relei arrived. Three example* of
blushing boyhood devoted themselves
to a languid blonde girl of thirty-five,
and the hostess herself was dancing
with another tender youth, but she
came forward, panting.
“So good of yon to come, dear.” she
cried. “This la Miss Wyeth, and these
are my boys. Mr.—” She spoke four
meaningless names, and four mean
ingless smiles responded; four wet
combed heads were bowed. She turned
to her blonde companion, saying “She
is pretty, isn't she. Alice?”
“Very.” Alice agreed, without remov
ing her eyes from the youth at her left.
Bergman Invited Lorelei to finish the
dance: then he Inquired. "What do you
think of her?”
“Her hair fascinates me; she looks
as if she had just burst out of a thicket
of henna leaves.” Bergman laughed,
silently. “But why did she invite me?”
"I told her to.”
“Yon?”
“I knew yon'd refuse if I asked
you.”
“So? Then I’m really your guest in
stead of hers.”
“We'll leave whenever you say.”
Throughout the rest of the dance
Lorelei was silent offended at Berg
man’s deception and uncomfortable at
her own situation; but the hostess had
ordered a supper of the unsatisfactory
kind usual In such places; little as she
liked the prospect, she could not leave
at once.
The meal was interrupted regularly
each time the music played, for danc
ing was more than a fad In this set—
it was a serious business with which
nothing was allowed to Interfere.
There wns considerable drinking.
Bergman, who devoted himself assidu
ously to his employee, showing more
effect from it than the others. As the
night wore on he became more and
more offensive; he grew coarse In a
sly, tentative manner, as If .feeling his
ground. He changed the manner of
his dancing, also, until Lorelei could
no longer tolerate him.
“Getting tired, my dear?" he queried,
when she declined to join the whirling
throng.
“Yes. I want to go.”
“Still on Amsterdam avenue?”
“No. I'm living alone=—now.”
Bergman started, his eyes bright
ened. “Ah! Then you’ve come to your
senses finally. Merkle fixed it—eh? I
can do more for you than Merkle can."
“Merkle?” She eyed him coolly.
“Oh, play your game with strangers,
but don’t put me off. Weren’t you
caught with him at the Chateau? Well, j
then—”
“You needn't finish. I'm going home 1
uuw.
He laid a detaining hand upon her
arm. "You never learned that speech
in one of my shows,” he said, "and
you're not going to say good night to
me. Understand?” He grinned at her I
with disgusting confidence, and she 1
flung off his touch. The returning
dancers offered a welcome diversion.
Ix>relei dreaded an open clash with
the manager, knowing that the place,
the hour and the conditions were ill
suited to a scene. She had learned j
to smile and to consider swiftly, to
cross the thin ice of an embarrassing !
situation with light steps. Quiekly j
she turned to Mrs. Thompson-Bellaire.
who was bowing effusively to a new- j
comer.
"My word! What is Bob Wharton j
doing here?” exclaimed the widow.
"Bob Wharton? Where?” Miss Wy
eth’s languor vanished electrically; she
Wrenched her attention from the wire
haired fraternity man at her side. Lo
relei felt a sense of great thanksgiving.
Mrs. Thompson-Bellaire beckoned,
and Wharton came forward, his eyes i
fixed gloomily upon Lorelei.
“You rascal! So this is how you
waste your evenings. I am surprised,
but, now that we've caught you, won’t
you join us?”
Wharton glanced at the four pawns
and hesitated. “It's long past nine;
I’m afraid the boys will be late for
school.”
♦< v
►J Will Bob Wharton rescue her
from Bergman only to force his "J
><i own drunken attentions on the $
►" unfortunate Lorelei? $
r V
CTO BE CONTINUED.)
Humanity’s Failing.
"Some men,” said Uncle 2ben,
“ 'pears to enjoy buyin’ gold bricks foh
de sake of showin’ how much money
dey has to waste.”
NOT MUCH MONEY IN POETRY
Prices Paid to Writers Have Not
Greatly Advanced With Its In
creasing Popularity.
In this day of revival of poetry there
may be a natural curiosity to know
whether prices for poetry have gone
up in proportion to the apparent pop
ularity. I am afraid not, remarks a
writer in the Buffalo Express. Masters
did not get a cent for the magazine
publication of the Spoon river poems,
but he will get a few hundred dollars'
royalty from the book, and since its
success I understand he has been paid
as much as $100 for a single poem by
a New York weekly. The usual price
is $1 a line, or $25 for a very short
poem. And the "Spoon River Anthol
ogy” is the most talked about book in
America today, either poetry or fiction.
The London Times paid Kipling $500
for the “Recessional,” and the same
For other poems at various times.
Walt Mason apparently is making
more money out of poetry than any
other man in America today. He
writes a poem every day in the year
For a newspaper syndicate, and In a
recent interview he says he i3 paid
$12 each on a yearly contract, which
Mr. Howells in the Editor's Easy Chair
figures out to be $3,678 or thereabouts
a year. Mason says the most he ever
made in one month is $875.
It was Moore and Byron who got
the really big prices for poetry, in
the days when the public gave the hon
ors to long, storylike volumes, such as
'Laila Rookh,” for which Moore re
ceived 3,000 guineas, or about $15,000.
Tennyson was said to have been paid
$20,000 a year by Mozon for his poetlo
output, and James Whitcomb Riley
was offered $10,000 a year for his. The
New York Ledger paid Longfellow
$5,000 for "The Hanging of the Crane.”
To Repair Damaged Mirror.
To restore a mirror from which the
Bilver backing has come off in spots,
proceed as follows: First remove
the silvering from the glass around
the scratch so that the clear space
will be about a quarter of an inch
wide. Thoroughly clean the clear
space with a clean cloth and alcohol.
Near the edge of a broken piece of
looking glass mark out a piece of sil
vering a little larger than the space
on the mirror; place a very minute
drop of mercury in the center of this
patch and allow It to remain there for
a few minutes; clear away the silver
Ing around the patch and slide the
latter from the glass. Place it over
the clear spot on the mirror and gent
ly press it down with a tuft of cotton.
This is a difficult operation, and we
would advise a little practice before
trying it on a large mirror.
A Rare Bird.
Little Lemuel—Say, paw, what la an
optimist?
Paw—An optimist, son, is a political
candidate who believes that his suc
cessful opponent can fill the office
lust as well as he could.
The Answer.
“Charity begins at home, you know,”
quoted the man who did not want to
dig up.
“Yea, but It doesn’t have to stay
there all the time,” said the man who
waa collecting tor the war sufferers la
Htarope.
RANCHING
Cattle and Horse Ranching in
i Western Canada —Steers
Brought 10 Cents a Pound
or. the Seattle Market.
That big money is made by the lar,-.
| cattle rancher in Western Canada, a*
also by the small farmer as well, -
shown by the undisputable facts p-,
seated from time to time. A ranch* ;,
near Uleiehen, Alberta, who eoi.
meneed in a small way nine year
ago, recently disposed of 1.248 cattle
at a total of $101,304.50, and this was
only his surplus stock for the present
season.
A December shipment of 217 head of
ranch steers brought the owner an av
erage of over $80 per head. They were
taken straight from the range withou'
any grain feeding and were in excellent
condition to be sold for the Christ
mas trade. Another shipment of 100
head, averaging $70 each, was made
[ to Seattle. The highest price paid on
the Seattle market was for an Alber
tan steer, which weighed 1,700 lbs.,
and brought the fancy price of 10c
per lb., or $170.
Six carloads of live stock from
ranches 65 miles from Pincher, Al
berta, shipped to Spokane, excited
keen competition there on account of
their exceptional quality. The price
realized was $10,028. American deal-f ,
ers say they must look to Canada for M
beef supplies.
A livestock firm, which has shipped
over 2,000 head of beef cattle to the
American farmer since the middle of
November, reports a splendid recei*
tion of Alberta stock in the United
States.
A carload of choice Alberta steers
were sold eariy in January for ship
ment to the British Columbia coast
at $6.70 per 100 lbs. and, later on, a lot
from Carstairs brought $6.90—the
highest price paid since the spring of
1915. Shipments from Calgary live
stock yards during 1915 were: Horses,
8,675; cattle, 30,577; hogs. 144,515;
sheep. 12,410. A course in agriculture
and livestock demonstration which
tins been conducted by the Provincial
Dept, of Agriculture here was well at
tended, showing the interest taken by
city residents in agricultural progress.
John Young, of Sidney, Man., gives
his experiences in sheep-raising as fol
lows, as quoted in a local paper:
“I bought a bunch of fifty ewes,
which cost uie $262.50. With this
little flock I demonstrated just what
can be done in the sheep business.
This fall I sold fifty fat lambs at $6.50
per head, $325. and 18 of the best ewe
lambs, which I kept, I value at SS-PO
per head, $144. The wool sold at an av
erage of $2.07 per head. $103.50: This
makes the very nice total of $572.50.”
“They ran out nearly every day ail
winter. The value of hay and oats
was small, and one can make them
very comfortable through the winter
with very little expense. For shelter
I have a shed, about 125 feet long ami
14 feet wide, which I cover with straw.
This gives them protection frttn the
cold winds; yet it is always cool
enough to be healthy.”
“I intend going In more- for sheep
this fall, as I believe them to be the
most profitable stock on the farm.”
Desire of farmers and ranchers to
increase their sheep holdings is indi
cated by tlie sale of 2,500 head re
cently at $9.00 each. High wool
prices and profitable demand for mut
ton are the reason given for such a
figure.
Manitoba sheep breeders arranged
last year for the Provincial Depart
ment of Agriculture to handle their
wool output on a co-operative basis
and obtained most satisfactory results.
About 75,000 lbs. of wool were han
dled, netting the shippers over 25c
per lb.—Adverffeeiv'nnt.
Not a True Idealist.
“I always kntfw- that Binks was
tacking in true poetical idealism,” said
the irate leader of one of the clans.
“Just before the last election he made
overtures to me for the purchase of 50
votes.”
“Well,” said the sophisticated friend,
“that didn't offend you, did it?”
“Of course not; but when I made
the trade and delivered the goods the
conscienceless dog refused to pay.”
Don't wait for the f»-ol killer. Do it
yourself.
Love is Blind.
Another proof that love is blind is
that no decent husband ever sees a
freckle or wrinkle on the face of the
wife who has just put a bait of fried
chicken, hoeeake, roas’n’ears, sliced to
matoes and sparrow grass in front of
him.—Houston Post.
Important to Mothers
Examine carefully every bottle of
CASTORIA, a safe and sure remedy for
Infants and children, and see that it
Bears the
Signature of i 5/
In Use for Over 30 Years.
Children Cry for Fletcher's Castorin
All But—
"l>eur Mabel, do you love me?"
“Oh, George!"
‘"Don’t you. Mabel? Just a tiny lit
tle bit?”
•‘W-e-Il, y-e-s. George.”
‘‘And would your mother keep away
front ns, except when I invited tier?”
“She would. George.”
“And your brothers and sisters,
too?”
“Why, certainly, George.”
“And, of course, the old gent would
settle my debts?"
“Of course. George."
"Darling, will you marry me?"
“No, George!”
Ali Gone.
“Blinks doesn't seem to have much
snap In him any more.”
“No; he used to have so much snap
in him that now he’s broke.”
Many a man sacrifices his principle
to success, and considers that he is ,
getting It cheap at that.
Capital and labor are icipossi'<!e
terms to many of us.
Grass snakes are legless liwrds.
