The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917, September 06, 1917, Image 6
—HU Jrtl i i Itii > H I I 111 II I 111 11JH— n=- ' THE PRINCE CF SEYRE PLOTS JOHN’S DOWNFALL THROUGH FASCINATING WOMEN, AND INTRO DUCES HIM TO MADAME CALAVERA, FA MOUS RUSSIAN DANCER Synopsis.—J. Maun-l. fatuous net res*. was making u motor tour l. ,g i uuits-rlriul district, when !»r car broke down late one r< -i.oig 1 sto : s f..re. d to accept the overnight hospitality of Ste pp.-a me! .1 S'reng.■ y. re-1 use woman lmters living in a splendid old i: - a ■ a gr* at farm, la-fore sin* V-ft nest day sire had eapti j... . atnl lie had inateU her. Three months later John, on a ■; : . .. ii't.t l • ttud looked op Louise She was de d _• v. , ;■['.<! . it! .need liitii to her friends of the artistic and gr. . ..r • v them S p!iy. a light-hearted little actress, and i,f.. , p ,n ght "f remarkable mental gifts. The prince of Seyre, a . . . i ■ . .. . « e i lie already knew, hecante his guide, and t„ . ip, r. •! t !e - . '•■•Iniigan life of the city. I! rail lot w a rued Louise not l„ • . ■ !i r * r.rdetit John and the prince, and told her ;i ij,,- |,ntiee was dmifrrmn for John. v... CHAPTER IX—Continued. • Ah !..• r lady In insisted. "I am led fading wildly. I nut Ural! lot. who fur thirty have written dra ma* .ai subject and <iu<* subject «u»ly .and i -a. It ha* In-an given I.. me to study umuy varying type* ,.f the human race, l<* watch the outcome ..f many stn.t.ge situations. I have watched the prince draw you wvarer and in-arer to hi a. What these ia or may tie In-tween you I do uot know. It is hot for me to know. But if not now, s,mil* day Kugene of Seyre ineatns you to In- his. and he is uot a person to Is* lightly resisted. Now from the skies there looms up this sudden obstacle.” “You -Jo not realize.” Louise prie tested almost eagerly, “how slight is my *>vj i. .ntauce with Mr. Siratigewey. I «sv »i» at the night and a few hours of the next morning at his house in t’Utnt-T.-i. and that is ill! I have net win of him. How can his pres ence here In- gf any serious import to K«Cclic" “A* ' it. Ura’Hot as-plied. "I say ntWh.Lig If what I have suggested does uot exin*. then for tie- tirsl time ih Hi) life 1 have ii-ude a mistake; hut I ! C I i 'Beware. Not of th* Enmity of Eugene •f Seyre. but of His Friendship." I do n<>: think I hare. You tuny not realize It but there Is before you one of tbs.' struggles that make or mar the life of women of every age. As for the men. 1 Mill out) say this, and it is brrause of it that I have *pok< " all—I am a lover of fair play, and the straggle i* n<*t eveu. The younger tnan may bold every card in the pack, but KuX'tje «,f Seyre inis learned how to <*ia tricks without ares. 1 stayed be hind to say this to you. Louise. You know the young man. and I do not. It la you who must warn him." “Warn him?” Louiae repeated, with upraised eyebrows. "I tear master. ar« n‘t »» Just a little—do you mind if I nr that word so hateful to you— m lodramatle? The age of duels is p. 4. alio the age of hired liruvos and assassin*." “Agreed," Cniiilot interrupted, "but the neajsms of t.slay are more danger ous. It Is the souls of their enemies that men attack. If I were a friend of that young man’s. 1 would say to him ilr«are. not of the enmity of Eugene of Seyre. but of ifis friend ship!* And now. desir lady. I have fln wbed. I lingered behind i<ecntisc the world bolds no more sincere admirer of yourself ami your genius than I. I ain't ring. May I not let myself out?” He looked -teailfastly into her eyes. Ilia plain. bearded face was heavy browed. Ulc-d. tired a little with tll» earning of age. "You nr. m. going?" she asked liini. "lawr L'tns 1«- said. “I am going because the tin slioi 1 can help It not yet. Lisicti' More harm hn* Iteeti done in TI. * not' ! by advice than ill any <»ther way. I have no advice tc give you. Y'ou ha.c one sure and c**r ;ain guide. and ti. t is your own heart •our own instinct* tour own sweei couscioWMox of nLi is Ix-st. I |eav« you t« tliat. If Iron comes. I mi ti isyt ready CHAPTER X. Luring the remainder that after jpottu and evening John w oppresses hg a vague arose of I he spiefnlor ul surruuodtngs add his < npaukMi*! wyiaerious capacity for aciu« ving im gaaMUUtirs. Tbetr visits to the tai •*rs. the ahlrtiimkers. the ho*i. rs am bootmaker* almost resembled : «.yal prugrv**- All difficulties sen n-^vrd aside- Tent mght he Jineu ■ • 1 ■ lied like other men from head to foot, in tin- lofty dining room of one <>f tin- Must exclusive clubs in London. The prince proved an agreeable if son.euhat reticent, companion. He In troduced .1 din to many well-known people, always with that little note of personal interest in his few words of presentation which gave a certain sig I ulficance to the ceremony. From the club, where the question of John's proposed membership, the prince acting as his sismsor. was fa vorably discussed with several mein . hers of the committee, they drove to i Covent Harden, and for the first time in his life John entered the famous opera house. Ttie prince, preceded by j an attendant, led the way to a bos ' 1 upon the second tier. A woman turned , • her head as they entered and stretched . out her hand, which the prince raised : to his lips. , “You see, I have takfcn you at youe word, Eugene,” she remarked. “You give me double pleasure, dear , lady." the prince declared. “Not only ' :s it a joy to he your host, hut you give ; l me also the opportunity of presenting j to you my friend, John Strangewey. ! •Strangewey, this is my very distant t relative and very dear friend, Lady \ ; Hilda Mullock." • Lady Hilda smiled graciously at John. She was apparently of a little j less than middle ag*-. with dark hands j of chestnut hair surmounted by a tiara, lb r face was the face of a clever and still beautiful woman; her figure slen der and dignified; her voice low and I delightful. “Are you paying your nightly hoin- j age to Calavera. Mr. Strangewey. or 1 . are you only an occasional visitor?" she asked. 1 “This is my first visit of any sort ; to Covent Harden." John told her. She looked at him with as much sur prist* as good breeding permitted. John, who hud not as yet sat down, seemed almost preternaturully tall In that small box. with its low ceiling. He j mis looking around the house with tin* i enthusiasm of a hoy. Lady Hilda glanced away from him toward tin* i prince, ami smiled; then site looked l ack at Joliu. There was something like admiration in he face. "Do you live abroad?” she asked. John shook his head. "I live in Cumberland,” he said. ' "Many people here seem to think that that is the same thing. My brother ; and I have it farm there." “But you visit London occasionally, surely?" "I have not been in London,” John told her, “since I passed through it on 1 my way home from Oxford, eight years i ago.” "I have never heard anything so ex traordinary in my lift*:" the woman de flated frankly. "Is it the prince who lias induced you t<r break out of your seclusion?” “our young friend," tin* prince ex plained. “finds himself suddenly in al tered circumstances. He lias been left a large fortune, and lias come to spend it. Incidentally. 1 hope, he hus come to see something more of your sex than is jmtssihie among his mountain wilds. He has come, in short, to look u little 1 way into life." Lady Hilda leaned hack in her chair. “How romantic!” “The prince amuses lumself,” John • assured her. “I don't suppose I shall stay very long in London. 1 want just to try it for a time.” She looked at him almost wistfully. She was a woman with hftiins; a wom an notorious for the freedom of her life, for her Intellectual gifts, for her almost brutal disregard of the conven tions of her class. The psychological I Interest of John Strungewey’s situa tion appealed to her powerfully. Be sides. she had a weakness for hand I some men. “At any rate.” said Lady Hilda. “I am clad to think that I shall be able , to watch you when you see Culavern in her4 dances for your first time.” The curtain rung up upon one of the most gorgeous and sensuous of the Uussiuii ballets. John, who by their Joint insistence was occupying the front chair in the box, leaned forward in his place, his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the stage. Both the prince and ijidy Hilda, in the background, a!* though they occasionally glanced at in’ performance, devoted most of their attention to watching him. As the story progressed and the mu sic grew in passion and voluptuous ness. they distinctly saw his almost mil mat protest. They saw the knit ting of his firm mouth and the slight contraction of Ids eyebrows. The I prince and his friend exchanged glances. She drew’ her chair a little • further baek, und he followed her ex ample, i “Where did you lind anything so wonderful as this?" she murmured. “Lost among the hills of Cumber land,” the prince replied. “1 have an estate up there—in fact, he and I are joint lords of the manor of the vil lage iy which he has lived.” “And you?” she whispered, glancing at John to lie sure that she was not overheard. “Where do you come in? As educator of the young? I don’t seem to see you in that role!” A very rare and by no means pleas ant smile twisted the corners of his lips for a moment. “It is a long story." "Cun I be brought in?*- she asked. He nodded. “It rests with you. It would suit my plans.” She toyed with her fan for a mo ment, looked restlessly at the stage and back again at John. Then she rose from her place and stood before the lookinjtglass. From the greater obscur ity of the box siie motioned to the prince. John remained entirely heedless of their movements. His eyes were still riveted upon the stage, fascinated with file wonderful coloring, the reali zation of a new art. “You and I," Lady Hilda whispered, “do not need to play about with the truth. Eugene. What are you dolug this for?” “The idlest whim,” the prince as sured her quietly. “Look at him. Think for a moment of his position— absolutely without experience, entirely ignorant about women, with a fortune one only dreams of, and probably the handsomest animal in London. What Is going to become of him?” “I think I understand a little,” she confessed. "I think you do," the prince assent ed. “He has views, this young man. It is my humor to see them dissipated. The modern Sir Galahad always irri ratt'ii nit* a nine. Slit* shrugged her shoulders. “They'll never {rive him a ehnnoe, tin st> women." she said. “Much better hand him over to me." The prinee smiled enigmatically, and Lady Hilda returned to her seat. John was still leaning forward with his eyes fixed upon Calavera. who was dancing alone now. The ballet was drawing toward the end. The music had reached its climax of wild anti passion ate sensuousness, dominated and In spired by the woman whose every movement and every glance seemed part of some occult, dimly understood language. When the curtain rang down. John, like many others, was confused. Nev ertheless. after that first breathless pause, he stood up and joined in the tumultuous applause. “Well?” the prince asked. John shook his head. “I don’t know.” he answered. “Neither does anyone else,” Lady Hilda said. “Don’t try to analyze your impressions for our benefit. Mr. Stmngewey. I am exactly in your po sition. and I have been here a dozen times. Even to us hardened men and women of tin* world, this Kussinn niu sie came as a surprise. There were parts of it you did not like, though, weren’t there?” “There were parts of it I hated,” John agreed. “Then* were passages that seemed to aim at discord In every sense of the word.” mi<* nodded sympathetically. They were on their way down the broad staircase. “I wonder.” she murmured, “whether I am going to be asked out to sup per?" “Alas, not tonight, dear lady." the prince regretted. “I am having a few friends at Seyre House.” She shot a glance at him and shrugged her shoulders. She was evi dently displeased. “How much too bad!” she exclaimed. “I am not at all sure that it is right of you to Invite Mr. Strangewey to one 1 of your orgies. A respectable little supper at the Carlton, and a cigarette in m$ library afterward, would liave been a great dent better for both of you—certainly for Mr. Strangewey. I think I shall run away with him, as it Is!” The prince shrugged his shoulders. “It is unfortunate,” he sighed, “but we arc both engaged. If you will give 1 ns tlie opportunity some other eve ning—” "I am not at all sure that I shall have anything more to do with you, Eu gene.” she declared. “You are not be having nicely. Will you come and see me while you are in town, Mr. Strangewey?” she added, turning to John. “I should like to very much,” he re plied. “I think,” he added, a little hesitatingly, “that I have read one of your books of travel. It is very in teresting to meet you." “So my fame has really reached Cumberland !” she laughed. “You must come and talk to me one afternoon quite soon. Will you?” "I will come with pleasure," John promised. They stood for a few moments in the i crowded vestibule until Lady Hilda ' Mulloch's car was called. The prince stood hack, allowing John to escort her to the door. She detuined him for a moment after she had taken her seat, and leaned out of the window, her fin gers still in his hand. “Be careful!” she whispered. “The prince’s supper parties are just a lit tle—shall I suy banal? There are bet ter things if one waits!” CHAPTER XI. The reception rooms of Seyre House, by some people considered the finest in London, were crowded that night by a brilliant and eosmo(K>litan assembly. For some time John stood by the prince’s side and was introduced to more people than he had ever met be fore in his life. Presently, however, he was discovered by his friend Amer ton. “Queer thing your being here, a friend «f the prince and all that 1” the young man remarked. “Where’s Miss Sophy this evening?" “1 haven’t seen her,” John replied. “I don’t believe she is invited.” “Like to be introduced to some of the girls, or shall we go and have a drink?” John was hesitating when he felt a hand upon his shoulder. The prince’s voice sounded in his ear. “Strnugowey,” lie said, “I am privi leged to present you to Mine. Aida Calavera. Madame, this is my friend of whom I spoke to you.” John turned away from the little group of girls and young men toward whom Amerton had been leading him. The woman was different from any thing he had imagined, from anything he had ever seen. In the ballet a writhing, sensuous figure with every gesture a note in the octave of pas sion. here she seemed the very per sonification of a negative and striking immobility. She was slender, not so tall as she had seemed upon the stage, dressed in white from head to foot. Her face was almost marblelike in its pallor, her smooth, black hair was drawn tightly over her ears, and her eyes were of the deepest shade of blue. She raised her hand, us he bowed, with a gesture almost royal in its condescen sion. The prince, with quiet tact, bridged over the moment during which John struggled in vain for something to say. .Mr. strangewey, lie remarked, "paid his first visit to Covent Garden tonight. He has seen his first ballet, as we moderns understand the term. I cannot help envying him that delight. He naturally finds it difficult to realize this additional good fortune. Will you excuse me for one moment?” The prince departed to welcome some later arrivals. The noisy little group standing close at hand, from which John had been diverted, passed on into the refreshment room, and the two were, for a few moments, almost isolated. “You were pleas-d with the perform ance, I hope?" Her voice was in character with her personality. It was extremely low, scarcely louder than a whisper. To his surprise, it was almost wholly free from any foreign accent. "It was very wonderful,” John an swered. “Tlie prince tells me.” she continued, “that you are a stranger in London. Give me your arm. We will walk to a quieter place. In a few moments we I are to he disturbed for supper. One eats so often and so much in this conn- , try. Why do I say that, though? It is not so had as in Russia.” They passed across the polished wood floor into a little room with oriental fittings, where a lamp was swinging from the eeiting. giving out a dim hut.pleasant light. The place was empty, and the sound of the music and voices seemed to come front a dis tance. She sank down upon u divan back among the shadows, and mo tioned John to sit by iter side. “You have come to find out. to un derstand—is that not so?” she inquired. "What you know of life, the prince toils me, you have learned from books. Now you have come to discover what more there is to he learned in the world of men and women.” “The prince has been very kind,” John said. She turned her head slowly and looked at him. "A young man to whom the prince chooses to be kind is, in a way, for i-:--—i———-,-. “Give Me Your Arm. We Will Walk to a Quieter Place.” tunate,” she said. “There is very lit tle in life, in men or in women, which he does not understand. Let us re turn to what we were speaking about. I find it very interesting.” “You are very kind,” John declared. “What you will learn here,” she went on. “depends very much upon yourself. Are you intelligent? Perhaps not very,” she added, looking at him critically. “You have brains, however, without a doubt. You have also what places you at once en rapport with the cult of the moment—you are wonderfully good looking.” John moved a little uneasily in his place, lie felt that the dancer’s eyes were fixed upon him, and he was fever ishly anxious not to respond to the in vitation of their gaze. He was con scious. too. of the queer, indefinable fascination of her near presence in the dimly-lighted room. “What you will learn," she proceed ed, "depends very much upon your de sires. If you seek for the best, and are content with nothing else, you will find It. But so few men ure couteut to wait!’’ “I intend to," John said simply. “Look at me, please,” she ordered. Once more he was compelled to look into her deep-blue eyes. The incom prehensible smile was still upon her lips. “You have loved?" “No," he answered, taken a little aback by the abruptness of the ques tion. “You grow more wonderful I You are free from uuy distracting thoughts about women? You have no entangle ments?” “I have nothing of the sort,” John declared, almost irritably. "There is one person who has made a wonder ful change in my life. I believe I could say that 1 am absolutely certain of my feelings for her. but so far she lias not given me much encouragement. Tell me, madnine, why do you ask me these questions?” “Because it. interests me,” she re plied. “Why do you not insist that this lady should toll you the truth?’ “I have come to London to insist,” he told her, “but 1 have been here only forty-eight hours. I am waiting.” “So many people spend their lives doing that,” she wenf on presently. “It does not appeal to me. The moment I make up my mind that I want a thing. I take it. The moment I make up my mind to give. I give.” John was suddenly conscious of the ! closeness of the atmosphere. The fin gers <>f His hands were clenched tight ly together. He sw.>re to himself that ( he would not look into this woman’s j face. He listened to the hand which was playing In the balcony of the great hall, to the murmur of the voices, the shouts of laughter. He told himself that Mine. Caluvera was amusing her self with him. "The prince’s party.” she continued, after a long pause, “seems to be a great success, to judge by the noise they are making. So many people shout and laugh when they are happy. I myself find a more perfect expres sion of happiness in silence.” She was leaning a little back in her place. One arm was resting upon a j pile of cushions, the other hung loose ly over the side of the divan. John ; felt a sudden desire'to rise to his feet, , and a simultaneous consciousness that his feet seemed to be made of lead. “You may hold my fingers.” she said; “and please keep your face turned toward me. Why are you nervous? I am not very formidable.” He took her fingers, very much as the prince had done upon her arrival, and pressed them formally to his lips. Then he released them and rose. “You know.” tie confessed, “I am very stupid at this sort of thing. Shall we go back to the reception rooms? I shall be the most unpopular man here if I keep you any longer.” The smile deepened slightly. Little lines appeared at the sides of her eyes. So far from being annoyed, he could see that she was laughing. “Joseph.” she mocked, “I am not tempting you. realiv! Do sit down. I have met men in many countries, but none like you. Don’t you realize that your love for one woman should make you kind to all?” “No, I don't,” he answered bluntly. She patted his hand gently. “Come,” she said, “do not be afraid of me. I will not make love to you— seriously. You must be kind to me be cause everybody spoils me. After sup per there are one or two more ques tions I must ask you. Do you know that I am going to dance here? Never before have I danced in a private house in England. Except upon the stage, I like to dance only to those whom I love!” The little space between the cur tains was suddenly darkened. John turned eagerly around, and. to his im mense relief, recognized the prince. Their host came forward to where they were sitting, and held out Ms arm to Calavera. “Dear lady,” he announced, “supper is served. Will you do me this great honor?” She rose to her feet. The prince turned to John. “This is my privilege as host.” he explained; “but if you will follow us, you will find some consolation in store for you.” “Well?" the prince asked, ns he handed Aidu Caluvera to her place at his right hand. “I think not,” she teplied. He raised his eyebrows slightly. For a moment he glanced down the supper table with the care of a punctilious host, to see that his guests were prop erly seated. He addressed a few trivialities to the musical-comedy star who was sitting on his left. Then he leaned once more toward the great dancer. “You surprise he said. “I should have thought that the enter prise would have commended Itself to you. You do not doubt the facts?” “They are obvious enough," she re plied. “The young man tried to tell me that he was In love with another woman, and I felt suddenly powerless I think I must be getting to that age when one prefers to achieve one's con quests with the lifting of f* tiuger." The prince sighed. “I shall never understand your sex!" he declared. “I should have supposed that the slight effort of resistance would have provided just the necessary stimulus.” Sho turned her ben’jriful head a nr. looked at the prince through narrowed eyes. ••After all,” she asked “what should I gain? The young man is. in ids way. a splendid work of a:-* Why should 1 he vandal enough to destroy It? J shall ask you another question.” The prince slowly sipped the wine from the glass that he was holding to his lips. Then he set it down delib erately. “Why not?” “What is your interest? Is it a bet. a whim, or—enmity?" “You may count it the latter," the prince replied deliberately. Calavera laughed softly to herself. “Now, for the first time,” she con fessed, "I feel interest. This Is where one realizes that we live in the most Impossible age of all history. Th< great noble who seeks to destroy the poor young man from the country is powerless to wreak harm upon him. You can neither make him a pauper nor have him beaten to death. Why are there princes any longer, I won der? Y'ou are only as other men.” “It is an unhappy reflection, but it is the truth.” the prince admitted. "My ancestors would have disposed of r } "I Like to Dance Only to Those Whom I Love." this young man as I should a trouble some fly, and It would have cost them uo more than a few silver pieces and a sack of wine. Today, alas, condi tions are different. It will cost me more.” She trifled for a moment with the salad uikiu her plate, which as yet she had scarcely tasted. “I am feeling.” she remarked, “mag nificently oriental—like Cleopatra. The sensation pleases me. We are bar gaining, are we not—” “We shall not bargain," the prince interrupted softly. “It Is you wht shall name your price.” She raised her eyes and dropped them again. “The prince has spoken,” she mur mured. He touched her fingers for a mo ment with his. as if to seal their com pact : then he turned once more to ihe lady upon his left. Do you believe that Strange wey will be able to withstand the magnificent fascinations and voluptuous efforts of the Russian dancer to ensnare him? (TO BE CONTINUED.) HOBBIES ARE NOT ALL BAD They May Have a Very Soothing In fluence Upon One if They Are Not Ridden to Death. A great deal has been said from ! time to time of the unhealthy influ ence of what the world is pleased to * call “hobbies,” the idea being, of course, that valuable time is wasted in their pursuit which could other- | wise be used to advantage. Of course, in the case of hobbies, just as in all other interests of purely personal j preference, the harm lies in their abuse. To mount a hobby and ride it : to death, thus deliberately thwart- j ing our real aim, is sheer waste of \ time, but to care for it gently, to ! adapt its Influences to our advantage and to draw upon it with discretion is a very different matter, says the ! Charleston News and Courier. Hob bies, as a rule, are evidences of Indi viduality; they represent various routes by which we are struggling to arrive at a certain goal, a goal per haps which may not be clearly defined, but which exists somewhere for those who try to reach it. We find a certain comfort at times in yielding to the more or less soothing influences of some particular hobby, whether it be merely the discussion of a special subject or active participation in a particular pursuit. So long us we keep ourselves within check and resist the temptation to give way to unrestrict ed indulgence In the favorite pursuit which others are pleased to designate as a hobby, we can do no harm to anyone, but the trouble is that once we settle upon a special interest which will serve as an outlet for our feelings, we are quite likely to em phasize that interest to nu unwhole some degree. Farming Day and Night. Great Britain has decided to carry on farming operations for ”4 hours a day by means of hundreds of American gasoline tractor plows, searchlights, expert chauffeurs and taxicab drivers! and a civilian army of night plowmen and plowwomen. Great estates which have lain fallow for countless genera tions are to be broken up. and soon moors and vast parkland expanses which have been the delight of the British sportsmen will hear the strung® clatter of the gasoline trnctor. Economy ^Note. By reversing the huudle on n dust brush which has been worn near the point uddittouul wear may be ob tained. WHEAT PRICE HO .PRESIDENT APPROVES FIGURE SET BY COMMITTEE. PLACED AT $2.20 A BU3HEL i Fourteen Ounce Loaf of Bread For Five Cents.—Government to Control Wheat Market. Washington.—A price of Si’.g* bushel was fixed for the 11*17 crop ■•{ wheat by President WIN m rti recommendation of the wheat ..tumit tee. headed by Dr. 11. A. (iari t he basis will be No. 1 northern .a_r wheat delivered at Chicago. On the basis of $2.20 at < the food administration work i differentials for the various _ and classes and for the scv* ■ terminals. The price fixed is 20 cents high*! titan that named for the lots crop s> congress in the food control bill. Tie $2 price set by congress was taken into consideration by the committee n considering a fair valuation for thN year's crop. In a statement accompanying the 1 announcement of the price IT. -i lent i Wilson declares it is the hope of the food administration ami hi <> ; ~ well th;it the fixing of a pi •• will stabilize the market and keep ■..< within moderate hounds for :dl t: tr actions during the current year. Tiie price of flour and bread, oo. the president declares, will be kept down. All members of trie coimm agreed in tlieir discussions ilmt th" price fixed will permit of a fourteen ounce loaf of bread for 5 cents, allow ing a fair profit both to the lb manufacturer and the baker. The price differentials worked out hy the food administration are; No. 1 dark hard winter. $2.24; hard winter basic. 82.20; red winter basic $2.20; yellow hard winter. $2.10; soft red winter. $2.18; dark northern spring. 82.24; red spring. $2.1$: hump back. $2.10; amber durum. $2.24: durum basic. $2.20; red dunlin. 82.13; red walla. $2.13; hard white basic, i $2.20; goft white. $2.1$: white chili, j $2.10. No 2 of each grade is .3 cents ; less; No. 2. fi cents loss; No. 4. 10 : cents less. AUhoimh the prices are fixed on government purchases only, the f.. 1 administration through its wheat cor poration expects to control tbe n kef without difficulty. The corpora tion will make all government and al lied purchases and has under con sideration nlans to huv for millers. Members of the committee said they expected a great deal of criticism from the farming classes, but the’ they felt that every farmer should consider hiniseTf part of the war m - ehinery of the government and will ingly relinquish a part of his profit in the Interests of rho common good. Millions View Para5e. New York.—Two million New Tori ers. in a whirlwind of patriotic frenzy shouted farewell last Thursday at 25,000 khaki-dad men of the Twenty seventh division, comprising national guard units front till over the state, marching down Fifth avenue. I’.inked on both sides of the broad street, hanging front building ledges, mussed on roofs, clustering in overcrowded grandstands, the greatest outpouring of petiole New York had ever seen, greeted the marching columns with thunderous acclaim. It took five hours for the grand re view to pass. Governor Whitman. Mayor Mitchel, Theodore Roosevelt and other officials reviewed the pa rade. Convoy Ships Across Atlantic. Washington—American naval forces are convoying merchant craft acros* the Atlantic, it war disclosed officially at the Navy department, and exami nation of the records show that the loss of convoyed ships by submarines has averaged less than one-half of t per cent. Details of the convoy system are withheld. It was stated, however, that American war vessels are regu larly escorting fleets of British, French or other allied merchantmen across, the protection being supple mented when the danger zone is reached by the destroyers and other isitrol craft. Drive Peace Advocates From Town. Hudson, Wis.—Plans for holding the national peace convention of the Peo ples’ Council of America at Hudson. Wis.. were virtually abandoned when Secretary Lochner of the People’* Peace council and others, were run out of Hudson by a mob. Potato Crop in Danger. Chicago.—Much of America's enor mous potato crop is in danger of spoiling unless cities build municipal storage houses, said Dr. Alonzo K Taylor, federal food expert. Digging [ of winter potatoes is under way, he said. Refuse to Protect ’Em; Fired. Kansas Pity. Mo.—Forty city police officers who refused to ride as guards on street cars manned by imported strike breakers during the recent street car strike here, were dismissed. Hails Wilson Allies’ Leader. London.—Loudon was again moved to admiration of America and of President Wilson after reading the president’s note to Pope Benedict, and more than one newspaper hailed the American executive a* the new leader of the allied cause. Nebraska Leads in Potash. Washington.—“Nebraska is now th# greatest producer of potash of any state In the union," Senator Hitchcock told the senate during debate on the war revenue bill.