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R. Ov SlltOTHfER,
Jf. kTstrother,
OOUTMBUS,
China Aate far
Aaether proof of the. awakealBS
Koime oa ia Chiaa Is tinOaael Hj tke
Uteaieat that the reaameat of the
Tlowery dmgiom haathroach repre
seatatlves at Waahlagtoa. apaliod to
oar authorities for seeds and samples
ef every variety of plant of recogaised
istportaace raised la oar oaamtry.
Chiaa is oa the search for desirable
crops, aad appareatly has learned a
lesson hy recent experience -with
famine, dae to the failare of prodacts
. ea which the people rely for food.
Ner is this all., says Troy Times.
Chiaa will experiment with the prod
acts of other coaatries as well, aad
as she has a wide variety of soil 'aad
chmate there is no reason to doabt
that many new aad valuable food arti
cles will thus be secured. Farther
more, ia coming to the United States
she sets expert advice and friendly
aad elective cooperation. The de
partment of agriculture has labored
oag aad successfully ia the same di
rection aad has doae a vast amount
of valuable work in developing and
improving crops. The hints borrowed
from Washington bid fair to serve
most beeafcent ends in Chiaa.'
XS '-K -v---' J"mBWmBmBmBaL' '
'm J rSCL fV jmmmmmmja - 11
rjiammmjmmmmar f mmf f dC J f'
Witches Still Believed In.
Neglected by the powers, witches
ceased to be so notorious, bat the be
lief continued to exist, and does exist
ow, in rural parts of Scotland "and
England; and in England and Prance,
even in the towns, fortune tellers,
whether -they charge a guinea or a
shilling for their advice, are witches
under the terms of the old statutes,
and nourish abundantly, but as they
are not burned they are supposed by
-superficial observers to have been ex
terminated hy school boards and elec
tric lighting. The blacker sort of I
witch' who "overlooks" anda casts
spells ea man and beset may be found
ia .many rural . regions north and
souths One of them was brought be
fore a aauire aad J. P. of my ac
qacJatance as a dangerous nuisance.
He, said to her, solemnly : "You know,
Betty, the Bible says 'Thou shalt not
safer a witch to live in the parish.' "
and she migrated, under certain con
dlions of compensation, to another
parish. Andrew Lang, in the London
Post.
One way 'Americans of the present
day have of .honoring the immigrants
of the past was .illustrated last month,
when a statue of Commodore John
Barry, the father of the American
navy, was unveiled in Philadelphia.,
Barry was an Irishman, born in 1745.
It was not till 1760 that he reached
America as a sailor, coming here
from the West Indies. He was em
ployed by Philadelphia merchants and
owned some ships in 1776, when he
was put in command of the Lexing
ton, after volunteering to serve the
colonies on the sea. He captured the
' first British warship taken by a rev
olutionary cruiser. He had been in
America, or. more correctly, in busi
ness dealings with Americans, only
tea years when he began to fight for
them. John Paul Jones, another of
the revolutionary naval 'heroes, was .
also an immigrant, but he began to
v fight for us when his connection with
America and his interest in it had
been much less than those of Barry.
The foreigner to whom the land' of
the "free heart's hope and home" has
appealed has nearly always been
ready to take up arms in its defense;
and when he has done heroic things
the whole nation has applauded.
A little sentiment which Mr. Cleve
land aut forth on his seventieth birth
day, and by which the occasion might
well be remembered: "I believe that
we must set ourselves against the fal
lacy that a city life is the easier and
more productive of happiness." Mr.
Cleveland has had ample experience'
of life, both in the city and In the
country. '
An Evanston. III., minister is fixing
ap a marriage ceremony in which the
girl will not haveto promise to obey.
That is a good Idea. It will be lots
easier for some wives to obey If they
have to when they have not promised
to do so.
v A minister in South Dakota was
held up by two cowboys, who tried to
force him to drink with them. He
thrashed ,both, and muscular Chris
tianity is now at' the top notch of
popular veneration in that section.
Consternation was caused all over
the English-reading world not long
ago hy the report, that the Valparaiso
earthquake had destroyed Juan Fer
Baadez. Robinson Crusoe's island. The
terrible rumor has been denied au
thoritatively by the secretory of the
Boyal Geographical society.
John D. Rockefeller Jr. is to be sa-
perlateadest of his father's country
estate oathe Hadson. It Is leaned
from a reliable source that he will not
he compelled to live on his salary.
The assertion of the Topeka Jour
nal that "honesty 'Is1 spreading," re
minds lis thatat does seem to be get
ting somewhat thin in places.
If the automobiles wish to retaia
their popularity they should be care
ful about starting to run over people
.so early in the season.
A' woman stabbed a man In the
head with a knitting, needle. -A little
paiafulhut in future , he will be. able,
to halt his brows. ''--
CHAPTER I.
The Tragedy. 1
My feet touched the Barrow ledge.
I was safe. Bat Wllkmghby? 'Brave
Wilkmghby? -I
tried to call to aim. No sound
came from my lips. I was too ex
hausted. The last atom of strength
was spent. For the moment I was
paralyzed body and mnd. I could
oaly lean helpless against the moan
taiaside, gasping for breath. Aad al
most immediately Willoughby's voice
came, quite cheerfully, quite steadily:
"All right? Bully for you. Look
oat, here's the rope. Now If I have
decent luck. Be ready to hear a hand.
Again I tried to cry oat, to warn him.
If he would wait five minutes, three
minutes, one minute, I might he my
self agaia. 8U11 bo sound came from
my frozen lips.
The rope fluttered over ,the over
hang. It struck the ley ledge of the
Jutting rock to which I clung. Then
slowly it fell over, until it swayed
loosely in the wind, still suspended
from my body. " "- '
I did not attempt to draw. It la. I
was too exhausted, fmvam exertkm ab
slight as. that; It swayed geaUy to
audi fro, aad It seemed to me that
presently an unseea force would, grasp'
it and pull me headlong to destructtoh
to the glacier below. In- the. mean
while Wiltoughby was started.
Now' I dared not cry out I could1
only look up and wait, still struggling
fiercely for my breath. But. if I had,
been too exhausted io warn hut, to un
fasten thatrope from my waist, how
was I to 'give him the assistance he
would surely need presently ?- '
A stone fell, and then another, as he
fought for a foothold. I could hear
him breathing deeply, though as yet I
coald not 'see him.- I stood rigid, look
ing upward, aprey to such fears, to
such terrors as no man can imagine.
Now he came 'slowly iato sight, his
feet feeling with infinite caution. The
dificulties of.tha'desceat were appall
lag. .Even .for me, supportedby the
rope held by Wliloughby from above,
they had been all but impossible. Wli
loughby was 'ao amateur;' but without
assistance no, It coald not, hope to
save him; It must be death for as
both. But, and. this was the agonising
thought, whenfthe -crisis 'came, would
the awful stimulus release my impris
oned will? Or would horror still hold
me? t
And still hejbame. I could almost
touch him aowT He was actually near
me and then, what I had feared, what
Ijad known must happen, did happea.
m feet lost their foothold. He was
hangmg' by , bis jirmaf oveiv the ragged.
bue-greea . fs thatyawaed vto r
A moment rhe sfraggTed friurticaUy.
Then'heilg absolutely still. ; ' "
"Can you reach me?" he' "panted.
"Brace yourself aad reach me if you
can. But be quick."
I .did not move. I was not afraid to
die with him, though the world has re
fused to believe me. I did not move
because I could not. Horror for the
moment bereft me of my very reason
to think and act. My will was frozen.
My brain was numb. - '
Then the nightmare passed. Sud
denly I was calm. I took 1b a deep
breath. I braced myself against the
grim cliff for the shock as he should
fall Into my outstretched arms. J
But at that instant Wdloughby
quietly loosened his hold even while
I gathered all my poor . strength for
that last fight; and before he per
ished he cried one word, without pas
sion, without despair:
"Coward!"
His body brushed my own as it fell.
I heard it strike brutally the glacier
below. Then there was stillness.
He was dead, and I lived.
The stillness 'was awful and a soli
tude still more awful vast, savage,
and frozen, and always the whiteness
of the eternal snows. And then dark
ness came.
Hours later guides found me still
lying there. I saw them scrambling
toward me. I gazed at them stupidly,
.indifferently. When they called I did
not answer. They bore me back to
the Alpine village we had left .the day
before. There were black nights of
delirium. And in jny delirium I cried:
"I might have saved him. I am a
murderer. He died cursing me as a
coward."
And so they judged me. When I
was convalescent and crawled into the
sunshine .again, it was too late to
make excuses even if I wished. Peo
ple had already passed sentence.
No one spoke to me. I was looked
at askance. If any pitied, it was a pity
tempered with scorn. More than once
a kodak was snapped in my face. I
was a curiosity. I was a coward.
vaguely hopeful after all. I was going
home. .1 was going to
America is a long
OriBdelwakL It' was unlikely. I tried
to persuade myself, that the story and
the kodaks would follow me there. Bat
if so. at least my fellow-townsmen
would give me the benefit of the doabt
For once there had been a fire aad a
panic la the theater, aad I had beea
lucky enough to help a little. .80, if
the story reached them, they would
listen before they coademaed.
When my luggage was placed oa the
roof of the omnibus, aad I was already
seated inside, the proprietor of the
hotel, who had hitherto held himself
discreetly aloof, delgaed to wish me
aCDOtabV
"Adieu, Mr. Haddoa. It will not give
you pleasure to remember my hotel, I
am afraid," he said with a mournful
dUUeace.
"That would be too much to expect,"
I answered, cyaically amused at his
embarrassment.
He hesitated amomeat; one foot oa
the steps of the omnibus. '
' ,"Mr. Haddon, may I say that I have
sympathy for you? Do act let the lit
tle accidents spoil your life. None of
us are' always, brave. And certainly
there Is a courage of . the spirit as well
as of the body. The world condemns
hastily, buL it will doubt its verdict, if
yon refuse to accept It And you go
ao'wr
To America," I replied grimly,
"where at present there Is no verdict."
"Bat not at once?"
' "Why hot?" I asked ia surprise. .
"It is your aaalr or course.
'ABvucaanaui us.
M -J00??
m 'cfaome Jaei
of gwhm Jlfe r ot Swiss, history aad
Iv looked oat. oa. this stereotyped
aseae cfgayetywlta a 'resolute ihow
of iaterest I was determined, not to.
let the mddeat of the photograph ram
my dlaesthm. as the little innkeeper
ha said. r Perhaps vit "was my morbid.
fancy, but already I though, people
were regarding me "curiously." And
thea I- waa-sure r-heard my- same
spokea by a woman. I refused to look
around. I smoked my. cigar deliberate
ly, lookiag oat toward the uke.
. Saddealy from the Rigl mountain,
far oC on the left, dot of light
pierced the black gloom. Another and
another .quivered, 'until therewas a
doable row of them burning some dis
tance dowa the moaatoiBside. Thea
oa the right, oa austere giant Pilatus,
its. shaggy head crowned with stars,
other lights biased. Aad thea, very
far off, up ia the sileace of the" snows,
one solitary beacon light shone like a
star, steadily aad alone, This little
light comforted me. though it glowed
from the very region of the tragedy.
I liked to think it an emblem of hope.
Oat of the gloom aad despair it baraed
steadily. It gave me a sort of courage. .
My elbow was Jogged, and not with
"Pardon, but this seat is reserved."
It was a waiter who spoke, and he
waslasoleBt Bat I answered quietly:
1 was given thla place by another
waiter. There was ao placard oa the
table nor were the chairs turned up.
Why do yoa say it is reserved?"
As I asked this question I glanced
over my ahoalder to see for whom the
maa was demanding my place.
Oa the steps leadiag to the terrace
from the dining-room stood two ladies.
One of them was a handsome, distin
guished woman well passed middle
age, and saying that of her, one has
said everything.
Of the other, one might say every
thing, and yet feel that one had said
nothing. It wa notthe air of proud
distinction that arrested my gaze, for
she shared that quality with the
other. It was not that she was mere
ly youag aad beautiful. Other women
are young and beautiful. It was rather
ef-thrtwwoi
at.aaasahM!
at
iWu --i-i.r
LV J I
forward aHahtlv:
- " .: lit- ii'V-"
ishmeat she. was smittag at,
aatly.a smile of charmlag
aad welcome. Bat as I stared at
stupidly; -the smile was succeeded by
aa WprssslnB vef y-JIsma y.' She ad?
dwieseaThererjrwomaa la an agi-
as
WenaheM me. spellbound as well
r:3.v- tmaoa-.yagaety to the
waiter. : had areadyay aide.
suauaoae imperiousiy, no doub by
the ladles who had cartoiily mmtakea
me for' aaotaerl . Hf? - ' ' t
)I had half risen. Xew:i seated: my?
self again, aad every aerva.tiagled
with exdtemeat The adveature was
not- yet eaded; I. was sure.of it Aad
I wetcomedxtiw diversioa, evea though
paia aad humiliation were, to. be its
price. I had. come to Xucerae' oa a
mbmehtary impulse, so I thoaght
What if fate had gaMed that impulse?
Forthe-third time the waiter; spoke
to aML I. looked ap at him calmly; I
had kaowBhe would come.
"The ladies .wUh to speak to moa
sieur..if moasfeur is at liberty."
The aamaioBB had, come. as. I.kaew
that it would. I drewia a deep
breath. My heart was beating fast
though outwardly I was calm enough.
I tuned; I advanced toward them. -
TWO KG QOCTOKS
&
THE MMORAL.
"
OtMJttATIOfr AND
IT P?AYr
StKHar K
rjH awawC
WW
Tii
CHAPTER III.
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CHAPTER II. .
The Beacon Light
To return to America, to work; to
forget if possible that was the fever
ish impulse that dominated me now.
And yet I lingered a week at Griadel
waid. It was Quixotic, "perhaps, but
at least I refused to ran away.
It was not a pleasant week. If I
walked up the village street the guides,
loafing about, at the corners, nudged
each other and indulged in brutal
Jests at my expense. In their stupid,
if honest, eyes I had committed the
unpardonable sin. I had failed a fellow-climber
at a moment .of peril.
They delighted to buttonhole the tour
ists to make me still more notorious
by reciting to them "the, story of my
disgrace. I was completely ostracised.
Jto one took, the trouble of askiag if
the blame were wholly Jny own. I was,
labeled the coward. . That was the end
of It ' ' "
JJnt when I. had lived through the
lBtermiaable seven days. each. marked
with an insult I packed my things.
"Coward!"
sieur, but at least" he was seeking a
pretentious expression of sympathy,
but he ended lamely "but at least do
not let this simple affair spoil your
digestion."
"Perhaps I shall linger a day or
two at Lucerne," I said good-naturedly.
"Ah, yes," he nodded In approval.
"monsieur will retreat slowly."
And so I came to Lucerne instead of
sailing immediately to America 'as I
had intended. It was not exactly
bravado that sent me there to meet
the scorn and sneers of those who may
have heard of my disgrace. It was the
sympathy of the little innkeeper.
When I arrived. Lucerne was en
fete. The Schweizerhof was crowded.
But in the restaurant I was not recog
nized. I began to hope that I might
not be. In the writing-room, however,
a London weekly advertised to' the
world the story of my disgrace; and
one of those cursed kodaks adorned
the first page. It was only a question
of hours before I should be known. I
walked, out on the terrace for coffee,
nrofoundly discouraged.
The terrace, screened by bay-trees
and cedars from the broad road that
ran along the lake, swarmed with the
people who came to Switzerland, not
to see but to be seen. They were
chattering in every tongue in Europe.
I stood in full view of everyone untO
a' waiter beckoned to me; for there
were few tables unoccupied.
From the railway station to the
Hotel Natlonale the quay was ablaze
with the flare of multicolored lights.
Placed In screenlike receptacles at in
tervals against the facades of the great
hotels.: the, white monotony of outline
was transformed into a faify fabric of
blue and green and red. The black
mnssm of the people at the windows
and balconies; eager to see the proces
sion of the lake, were thrown into
garish relief. Beneath the doable rows
pf .chestnut trees flowed a boh.'.erous
stream, of Swiss peasants, arm in arm,
shouting and staging s they marched,
aad a, more sedate.crowd of townsfolk
aad .curious tourisuv ' . .
The lake was a conventional scene
that there breathed from the quiet
presence of this woman a noble seren
ity and calm that is as adorable as it
is rare. The assured, direct look of
her eyes was truth itself. She had
not seen me. She looked beyond the
lake at the solitary little beacon
light that had comforted me only a
moment ago. "
I gave up my seat at once, of
course. I walked slowly to the end
of the terrace, and took a less desir
able place.
I refused, to allow myself to be inter
ested In these people. And yet I was
strangely interested in them. It was
as if I were waiting. When my elbow
was again touched. I felt no surprise.
It was the. waiter who had spoken to
me a moment .before.
"Pardon he ladies who took your
seat"
The One Woman.
I scanned each face latently as
approached them.. There was a high,
delicate color on the cheeks, of the
elder woman. She was frowning
slightly. I' could not be sure whether
cariosity or luihbyaace was the domi
naat Bote of her bearing. But pres
eatly I saw that it was rather reseat
meat aad thialy -veiled contempt
During the past week scorn aad con
tempt had flashed from too many eyes
that I should misinterpret that look.
They knew, then, the story of my dis
grace. That fact would explain the
expression of contempt; but why this
strange resentment, this indignation?
The younger woman, the daughter,
for the likeness was unmistakable, sat
motionless as' I approached. The atti
tude was significant of a feeling more
hostile and. deeper than that which
agitated the mother.
It was the mother who spoke, not
without evident reluctance:
"Is it true that you are Mr. Haddon
Mr. Ernest Haddon?
"It is true." I replied quietly,
"Then you were with Mr. Lawrence
Wliloughby when the tragedy oc
curred?" she continued in a deep,
even voice.
"Yes, madam."
"I am Mrs. Brett. -This is my daugh
ter. Miss Brett."
Again I bowed gravely. The .girl
made a slight inclination, but her
eyes still gazed intently at the little
beacon light that still burned on the
mountain.
I heard the name at first with an
idle curiosity. Then vaguely I re
peated it to myself. I had heard it
before. It awoke startled memories.
I vainly tried to place these people
who were compelling themselves to
,8peak to me with so evident a reluct
ance and hesitation.
"I am sare I have .heard, only late-
"Perhaps," assented Mrs. Brett bit
terly, "it was Mr. Wliloughby him
self" "Mother!" The daughter touched
the mother's arm appealingly.
"Yes," I said in a low voice, "I re
member now."
"Then, nir." and th nnpstinn rose
to a crescendo of restrained feeling,
"when we were informed only a mo
ment ago that you were Mr. Haddon,
you will understand why we have sent
for you?"
"Yes, madam. I understand. You
wish to hear from my lips the lips
of the survivor of the tragedy?"
Wliloughby had loved the daughter.
When death had faced us together, he
had spoken of her. At such a time
one. opens one's heart, even to. a
stranger. And he had told me of his
heart's desire; he had told me of his
despair that she had not returned his
love. At least not openly. But now,
when it was too late, perhaps she
realized that she had loved him after
alL If that were so. with what ab
horrence must she regard me. And if
I were to tell her everything that he
bad died reproaching me for cow
ardice Yes. pain and humiliation
were indeed to be the price of this
meeting.
Yet outwardly I maintained a stoic
calm. I knew there must be no ex
cuses for myself. Whether this wom
an, had loved him or not, at least his
memory must be sacred to her. The
man who was dead had paid the last
penalty of presumption and folly. But
that must not be hinted at; it was my
weakness and cowardice that I must
emphasize.
"Helena," Mrs. Brett turned to her
daughter, "would you prefer that Mr.
Haddon speak to you alone?"
"Yes, mother, I should prefer that."
"I shall wait for you. Helena, in the
writing room. Good evening. Mr.
Haddon."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Every
(Copyrighted. UK. by Alfred C. Clark.)
Whea the thrifty person or his wife
aits dowa for the first time -or any
time-with theawil order catawgae
aad its temptatioas. there are two.
aad oaly two, posts to be takea late
One of these is moral obHgatiea,
aad the chances are that that win he
dismissed as sentimental aoaseaae.
The other Is Will It pay? aad to
that the thrifty person will he in
dued to iaterpret aa answer from the
prices quoted ia black-faced figures ia
thecataJogue. H .
'Neither of these questions should
he lightly dismissed. Moral eWfca
tion Is not seatimeatal nonsense, aad
black-faced figures sometimes lie.
The duty' a maa owes to his owa
community aad am ehMgatiea to trade
at home are ao eftea reiterated lathe
country areas that possibly like some
of the preaching, it has a tendency
to harden the hearts of the sinners.
Nevertheless, the principle is true as
gospel.
What, has your aeighboriag towa
given yoa; Mr.' Farmer? A -market for
your produce. What has made 25 to
Be per cant of the present value of 1 perhaps, is that the printed price la
this brings us to the
the argument the
tioaia. taw
Itrmiaawr' '
By meat people aa aawmative an
te that qaestiea hi accepted aa
the call ef duty. Aa a matter-of fact.
"W1U H pay?" is a goad teat to apply
to any project or preposition. There
are commercial, as well aa political.,
demagogues, aad the maa who ie ap
pealed to oa the. score of patriotism
or profit duty or dollars, can scarcely
do better than to sk dowa by- himself
aad submit that question "Will it
pay?" to Ms owa heat judgment.
Provided always, that he goes to the
very bottom of It
I believe that every maa ought to
know why "ho does' so aad so. -Too
maay of aa travel la rata. Ufa get the
habit of buying certain goods or trad
lag at certaia places whoa we might
do better by changing This will ap
ply sometimes to people who trade at
home as well aa to these who buy
abroad! It Is always well -to investi
gate. I have known people to make
expensive trips to the cky to hay
goods that the village merchant would
have aoM them for leas money. They
hadn't token the trouble to investigate.
What are the relative advaatagesef
bayiag at the local store and orderiag
from a catalogue house?
understand, that figure ia the
tkm. "Win R pay?" Don't get away
from that question. H certainly is
very comfortable to sit dowa hy your
owa fireside aad select a areas pattern
or a sulky plow from a printed des
cription aad a picture of the article;
much more comfortable, ia fact than
hitchiag up aad drivtag to-towa oa a
raw day. -
A coasideratioa more important.
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The fire ef publicity is the medium the mail-order hsusss are Being to
destroy this community. It is up to you. Mr. Merchant to fight the devil
with fire. By the aid of the local press yeu can hold him ever the scorching,
flames, and put "a stop to his devastating competition so far as this com
munity is concerned. Will you not assist in the good fight?
I
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Limit to Sense of Animals
John Burroughs Scouts Theory That
They Commit Suicide.
"I do not believe that animals ever?
commit suicide.. I do not believe
that ther have any not!:-ns of death,
or take say note of time, or ever put
up any bluff game, or ever deliberate
together, or form plans or forecast
the seasons.
"They may practice deception,) as
whea a bird feigns lameness or par-,
alysis to decoy you away from her
nest but this, of course, is instinct
ive and not conscious deception.
"There is at times something that
suggests cooperation among them, so
when wolves hunt in relays, as Jthey
are said to 4a, or when they hunt in
couples, one engaging the quarry
in. front while , the other assaults1 it
from the rear; or when quail roost
upon- thegrouad - a ring, their
tails in the center, their heads out
ward; or. as when cattle or horses
form a circle when attacked in the
open by wild beasts, the cattle with
their heads outward aad the horses
with their heels.
"Of course, all of' this is instinctive
and not the result or deliberation,
wfitesr John Burroughs in Outing.
The horse always 'turns his tall to
the' storm as well, and cows and
steers, if I remember rightly, turn
their heaos."
Humane Law .of the Desert
Oae of the oddest humane laws ia
this country is in - rce in Nevada. In.
that section of tu. merican, desert
which lies in Nevada, travelers in dis
tress may flag the limited passenger
trains aad compel the train crew to
give themv water to drink. The law
makes it a felony to refuse to comply
with the traveler's request " v
your farm? The accessibility of a
market You know what your grand; I least, to be
father did on that same farm? Drove
his hogs and hauled his grain 30, 50,
maybe 75 miles to. the nearest market
town, and received prices for them
that would make you howl about the
trusts. And he hauled back the fam
ily supplies for which he paid what
you would consider monopolistic
prices. Do you happen to know what
the old farm was worth then? Well,
it lacked a good deal of being $75 or
$100 an acre.
Yes. the home town, with its handy
market, has advanced the value of
your property and made you worth
several thousand dollars more than
your grandfather was worth. The
home town affords schooling for your
children, and perhaps social and
church privileges which your family
would not otherwise enjoy. The rural
mail routes and telephone systems.
radiating from the home town, as
spokes from a hub, bring to your
home the greatest conveniences of
modern times.
What would your farm be worth
and how many of these advantages
would you be enjoying now, if the
city from which that mail order cata
logue came were your nearest market,
your most accessible trading point,
your only post office and social center,
the only place to which you could look
to connect you with the outside
world?
Have you ever noticed that the first
thing the settlers of a newly-opened
reservation do is to send for a wagon
load of mail order catalogues? Well, I
haven't. They lay out a town 'site
every six or eight miles, start two or
three general stores, build a - school
house, a church, a blacksmith shop, a
grain elevator, petition the depart
ment for a post office, and start a
newspaper. They know, from former
experience that, with these things
close by, life will be endurable, what
ever hardships may come. They know,
also, that without them they must live
lives of isolation and endure an exist
ence that is contrary to all natural
human instincts.
On the other hand, it goes without
saying, that the average country town
cannot exist without the support of
its tributary territory. Then, if that
town affords the advantages for the
rural citizen that have been enumerat
ed, there exists what we may call an
interdependence and a moral obliga
tion between the two. Are you, Mr.
Thrifty Farmer, living up to that ob
ligation when you do your trading
with the mail order house?
To this line of argument the farmer
may answer that his greatest obliga
tion, his first duty, is to his immediate
household, and that among the duties
to his family and to the. heirs of his
estate is that of practicing judicious
economy buying where he can buy
the" cheapest and 'o the best advan-
the catalogue seems, 'in some cases at
lower than the price
quoted at the local store. Isn't that
conclusive? Let's see. The catalogue
describes the goods and quotes a
price; mayb it gives a picture of the
article also, but you don't see the
goods. The local merchant shows you
the goods; you may examine them
critically; he may allow yon to test
them or to call in an expert to advise
you. Is it fair to conclude that the
catalogue article is the cheaper just
because the price is lower?
An element that must enter into the
comparison of goods and prices is.
that in any attempt to fool the cus
tomer, the local merchant is decided
ly at a disadvantage. He must show
the goods, not merely describe them.
His business, depends wholly upon the
limited trading area of his towa aad
his ability to inspire confidence within
that circle. He cannot afford to make
a practice of misrepresenting his
goods.
The mail order house is not so tied
down to the maxim that "Honesty Is
the best policy." It has no neighbors,
no fellow citizens, no mutual interests
with its patrons. Its trade area is
wide and always shifting. Naturally
these conditions do not demand extra
ordinary vigilance in supplying honest-made
goods. And where Vigilance
is not a needed employe in the busi
ness he is generally taken off the pay
roll, which makes a saving in expense,
as well as in the cost of the goods. If
lower prices are quoted by the cata
logue house, may not this account for
it?
"Will it pay? Is It a 1
economy to buy inferior aad
gcods when the same money, or evm
a little more, will pay for goods of the
oesi quality; wnicn coarse does a
man's first duty to his own household
dictate?
But to get at the bottom of that
question, we must coaaMer the far
reaching general effect of maa order
irauing. n single catalogue
are 10 oe capitalise at
tney must be reckoned with alone
with Stoddard Oil. the beef'traataad
railroad mergers. If they are aSewed
to suck the blod from oar coaatrv
towns, your grandchildren wfl
conditions much the same as those of
your grandfather's time. Their mar
seis win oe m, m or 75
The towns aad villages will
serted. aad the "hubs" will he too dis
tant to send the radiating spokes of
rural mail, telephone lines and other
modem conveniences far into the
country.
CHARLES BRAD3HAW1
Cunning and Ignorance.
Cunning always has been "the of
fensive aad defeasive weapon of ir
noraace. "Match, cunning with can
ning" only as a list resort John a.
Howlaad. s- . . ;"
itter of
away.
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