Nebraska Newspapers

    —HU Jrtl i i Itii > H I I 111 II I 111 11JH—
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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.