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About The Columbus journal. (Columbus, Neb.) 1874-1911 | View Entire Issue (June 10, 1908)
I' .' if w n M . i fl Vy t j. i j & i. "V I i I , t - v.y-r WiZCUZT W I V SYNOPSIS. Giles Diieliev arrived in San Francisco to join his irfi'nd and distant relative llenrv AVilton. whom he was to assist In an important and mysterious task, jmd who accompanied Dudley on the ferry boat trip into the city. The re markable resemblance of the two men Is noted and commented cr.i by passen gers on the ferry. They see si man with nake eyes, which sends a thrill through Iiudlev. Wilton postpones an explanation of the stranse ,-rrand Dudley is to per form, but occurrences -cause him to know it is one of no ordinary meaning. Wilton leaves Giles in their room, with instruction to await his return and shoot anv one who tries to enter. Outside there if heard shouts and curses and the noise of a iiuarrtl. Henry rushes in and at his reijueyt the roommates quickly ex flmnire elothes. and he hurries out again. Hardlv lias he sone than Giles s startled bv a cry of "Help," and he runs out to Hud some one being assaulted by a half dozen men. He summons u police man but thev are Unable to find any trace of a crime. Giles returns to his rom and hunts for some evidence that might explain his strange mission. He linds a map which he endeavors to I-t-iplier. Dudley is summoned to tne morgue and there linds the dead no; his friend. Henry Wilton. And thus Wilt on dies without ever explaining to initi ley the puzzling work he was to perform in San Francisco. In order to discover the secret mission his friend had entrust ed to him. nudity continues his disguise in-1 permits himelf to le known as Henrv Wilton. Dudley, mistaken for Wilt.i'n. is emploed by Knapp to assist in u stock brokerage deal. CHAPTER VI. Continued. "We'll have to break down the door. I guess." said Dicky. "Some thins must have happened." And a resounding kick shook the panel "Hold on !" I cried. "What's wanted?" "Oh." said "You've come Dickv sarcastically. J to life again, have you : "Well. I'm not dead yet." "Then strike a light and let us in. And take a look at that reminder you'll find wrapped around the rock 1 heaved through the transom. 1 thought it was open." And Dicky went off into another series of chuckles in appreciation of his mis take. "All right," I said. 1 was not en tirely trustful, and alter 1 had lighted the gas-jet 1 picked up the stone that lay among the fragments of glass, and unwrapped the paper. The sheet bore only the words: "At Norton's, at midnight. Richmond." This was the name of the agent of the Unknown, who had sent the other note. Dicky and his companion must then be protectors instead of enemies. I hastened to nulock the do, and in walked my two isitors. The first was a young man, tall, well-made, with a shrewd, good-humored countenance, and a ready, con fident air about him. 1 had no trou ble in picking him out as the amused Dicky. The other was a black-bearded giant, who followed stolidly in the wake of the younger man. "You've led me a pretty chase," said Dicky. "If it hadn't been for Pork Chops here, I shouldn't have found you till the cows come home." "Well, what's up now?" 1 asked. "Why, you ought to know," said Dicky with evident surprise. "But you'd better be hurrying down to Norton's. The gang must be there by now." 1 could on'y wonder who Borton might be, and where his place was. and what connection he might have with the mystery, as Dicky took me by the arm and hurried me out into the darkness. The chill night air served to nerve instead of depress my spirits, as the garrulous Dicky uncon sciously guided me to the meeting place, joyously narrating some amus ing adventure of the day, while the heavy retainer stalked in silence be hind. Down near the foot of Jackson street, where the smell of bilge-water and the wash of the sewers grew stronger, and the masts of vessels could just be seen in the darkness outlined against, the sky. Dicky sud denly stopped and drew me into a doorwav. Our retainer disappeared at i the same instant, and the street was apparently deserted. Then out of the night the shape of a man approached with silent steps. "Five sixteen," croaked Dicky. The man gave a visible start. "Sixteen five," he croaked in re turn. "Any signs?" whispered Dicky. "Six men went upstairs across the street. Every one of them did the sailor-drunk act." "Sure they weren't sailors?" "Well, when six coves goes up the same stairs trying the same dodge, all inside of ten minutes, I has a right to my suspicions. And Darby Meeker ain't been to sea yet that 1 knows on." "Darby Meeker!" exclaimed Dicky in a whisper. And he drew a whistle under his breath. "What do you think of that. Wilton? 1 had no idea he was back from that wild-goose chase you sent him on." "It looks bad." I admitted cautious ly. "I dare say he isn't in good temper." "You'll have to settle with him for that piece of business.' said Dicky with a chuckle. 1 failed to see the amusing side of the prospect. 1 wished I knew what Mr. Meeker looked like. The guard had melted away into the darkness without another word, and we hurried forward with due cau tion. Just past the next corner was a lighted room, and the sound of voices broke the quiet. We pushed open the dcor and walk ed in. The room was large and dingy, the ceiling low. Tables were scattered about the sanded floor. A bar tcck up the side of the room next the en trance and a general air of disreputa bility filled the place. About the room, some at the tables, some at the bar, were numbers of stout, rough-looking men, with a few Greek fishermen and two or three sailors. Behind the bar sat a women whose appearance in that place almost start led me. She might have been near ing seventy, and a hard and evil life had left its marks on her bent frame and her gaunt face. Her leathery cheeks were lined deep, and a hawk like nose emphasized the unpleasant suggestions conveyed by her face and figure. But the most remarkable fea ture about her was Tier eyes. There was no trace of age in them. Bright and keen as the eyes of a rat, they gave me an unpleasant thrill as1 I felt her gaze fixed upon me when I entered the door, arm in arm with Dicky. It was as though they had pierced me through, and had Jaid bare something I would have con cealed. Jt was a relief to pass beyond her into a recessed part of the room where her gaze might waste itself on the back of my head. "Mother Borton's up late to-night," said Dicky thoughtfully, as he ordered wine. "You can't blame her for .thinking that this crowd needs watching," 1 suggested with as much of airiness as 1 could throw into my manner. Dicky shook his head tor a second, and then resumed his light-hearted, bantering way. Yet I could see that he was preplexed and anxious about something that had come to his at tention on our arrival. "You'll not want to attend to busi ness till all the boys are here?" asked Dicky. "Not unless there's something to be done." I responded dryly. Dicky gave me a quick glance. "Of course." he said with a laugh that was not quite easy, "not unless there's something to be done. But 1 thought there was something." "You've got a fine mind, for thinking, Dicky." I replied. "You'd better culti vate it." "Well, they say there s nothing like society for that sort of cultivation," said Dicky, with another laugh. "They don't say what kind, but I've got a pretty good stock to choose from." He was at his ease in banter again, but it struck unpleasantly on me that there was something behind. "Oh, here's a queer friend," he said suddenly, looking at the door. "I'd better speak to him on the matter of countersigns." "By all means," I said, turning in my chair to survey the new-comer. I saw the face for an instant. The man wore a sou'wester, and he had drawn his thick, rough coat up as the collar. Cheek and chin I could see were covered by a thick blonde beard. His movements were apparent ly clumsy, but his figure was lithe and sinuous. And his eyes! Once seen they never could be forgotten. At though he would hide his head under their glance, oeard and sou'wester dropped away before my fancy, and I saw in my inner vision the man of the serpent glance who had chilled my spirit when I had first put foot in the city. It flashed on me in an instant that this man was the same man dis guised, who has ventured into the midst of his enemies to see what he might learn of their plans. As I watched Dicky advance and greet the new-comer with apparent in quiry, a low, harsh voice behind gave me a start of surprise. "This is your wine, I think" and a lean, wrinkled arm passed over my shoulder, and a wrinkled face came near my own. I turned quickly. It was Mother Borton. leering a. me with no appar ent interest but in her errand. "What a-e you doing here?" asked the crone in a voice still lower. "You're not the one they take you to be, but you're none the less in danger. What are you doing with his looks, and in this place? Look out for that man you're with, and the other. Yes, sir," her voice rose. "A small bottle of the white; in a minute, sir." I understood her as Dicky and the new-co.ier came to the table and took KBafctKKvww rlWTTm sgp!'SBBiBaK?i seats opposite. I commanded my face to give no sign of suspicion, but the warning put me on the alert. I.flad come on the supposition that I was to meet the band to which Henry Wil ton belonged. Instead of being atscng friends, however, it seemed now that I was among enemies. "It's all right," said Dicky careless ly. "He's been sent." "That's lucky," said I with equal unconcern. "We may need an extra hand before morning." The new-comer could not repress a triumphant flash in the serpent eyes. "I'm the one for your job," he said hoarsely, his face as impassive as a stone wall. "What do you know about the job?" I asked suspiciously. "Only what I've been told," he an swered. "And that is " "That it's a job for silence, secrecy, and " "Spondulicks," said Dicky with a laugh, as the other hesitated for the word. "Just so," said the man. "And what else?" I continued, press ing him firmly. "Well, he admitted hoarsely. "I learned as how there was to be a change of place to-night, and I might be needed." I looked at him inquiringly. Per haps I was on the threshold of knowl edge of this cursed business from the mouth of the enemy. "I heard as how the boy was to be put in a safer place." he said, wagging his head with affected gravity. Some imp put it into my hrain to try him with an unexpected bit of news. "Oh." I said coolly, "that's all at tended to. The change was made yes terday." The effect of this announcement was extraordinary. The man started with an oath. "The hell you say!" he exclaimed in a low, smooth voice, far different from the harsh tone he had used thus far. Then he leaped to his feet, with uncontrollable rage. "Tricked by God!" he sho'uted im pulsively, and smote the table with his fist. His outburst threw the room into confusion. Men sprang from their chairs. Glasses and bottles fell with clinking crash. Oaths and shouts arose from the crowd. "Damn you, I'll have it out cf you!" said the man with suppressed fury, his voice once again smooth and low. "Where is the boy?" He smote the table again; and with that stroke the false beard fell from his chin and cheek, and exposed the malignant face, distorted with rage. A feeling of horrible repulsion came over me, and I should have struck at that serpent's head but for a startling occurrence. As he spoke, a wild scream rose upon the air, and as it echoed through the room the lights went out. The scream was repeated, and after an instant's silence there rose a Ruses of Autograph Sharks. Ingenious Methods Used to Elicit Let ters from Noted Men. No one is better posted in ruses to which collectors resort in order to secure autographs from living celeb rities than a certain London dealer. There is not enough profit in their sale to encourage any number of peo ple in this country to secure auto graphs for the purpose of disposing of them to the dealer, but writing to celebrities and selling their replies to the dealer in question is a means of livelihood to no small number. No one perhaps has outwitted in cleverness the methods of Gen. Cist, whose collection, sold after his death, brought one of the highest prices of any sale in the world. Cist was a skillful penman and a born letter writer. He wrote in such a way that he rarely failed tc c"cit longthy and interesting replies. He would write to a stateman saying that a party had applied to him for employment and given the statesman as reference. "Was So-and-So ever in your employ as private secretary?" he would write. Cist was a recluse, a hermit. He was estranged from his family. His last days were passed in America in a chorus of shouts and oaths, mingled with the crash of tables ana the clink "ofbreaking glass -and crockery, as the men in the room fought their way to the door. "Oh, my God, I'm cut!" came in a shriek out of the darkness and clamor; and there followed the flash of a pistol and a report that boomed like a can non in that confined place. My eyes had not been idle after the warning of Mother Borton, and in an instant I had decided what to do. I had figured out what I conceived to be the plan of the house, and thought I knew a way of escape. There were two doors at the rear of the room, facing me. One led, as I knew, to the kitchen; the other opened, I reasoned, on a stair to the lodging-room above. Before the scream that accom panied the extinction of the lights had died away, I had made a dive beneath the table, and, lifting with all my might, had sent it crashing over with my enemy under it. With cne leap I cleared the remaining table that lay between me and the door. And with the clamor behind me, -I turned the knob and bounded up the stairs, three steps at a time. CHAPTER VII. Mother Borton. The noise of the struggle below con tinued. Yells and curses rose from the maddened men. Three shots were fired in quick succession, and a cry of "Oh, my Lord!" penetrated through the closed door with the sound of one sorely hurt. I lingered for a little, listening to the tumult. I was in a strange and dangerous position. .Enemies were be hind me. There were friends, too. but I knew no way to tell one from the other, and my ignorance had near ly, brought me to my death. I hesi tated to move, but 1 could not remain in the open hall; and as the sounds of disturbance from below subsided. I felt my way along the wall and moved cautiously forward. I had progressed perhaps twenty steps when a door, against which my hand pressed, yielded at the touch and swung slowly open. I strove to stop it, for the first opening showed a dim light within. But the panel gave no hold for my lingers, and my efforts to close the door only swung it open the taster. I drew back a little into the shadow, for I hesitated to dash past the sight of any who might oc cupy the room. "Come in!" called a harsh voice. 1 hesitated. Behind, the road led to the eating-room with its known dangers. A dash along the hall for the front door meant the raising of an alarm, and probably a bullet as a discourager cf burglary. Should I es cape this, I could be certain of a warm reception from the enemies on watch outside. Prudence lay in facing the one rather than risking the many. I accepted the invitation and walked into the room. "I was expecting you," said the harsh voice composedly. "Good even ing." "Good evening." I returned gravely, swallowing my amazement as best 1 could. By the table before me sat Mother Borton. contemplating me as calmly as though this meeting were the most commonplace thing in the world. A candle furnished a dim. flickering light that gave to her hard wicked countenance a diabolic leer that struck a chill to my blood. "Excuse me," I said, "1 have lost my way, I fear." "Not at all," said Mother Borton. "You are in the right .place." "I was afraid 1 had intruded," I said apologetically. "I expected you," she repeated. "Shut the door." I glanced about the room. There was no sign of another person to be seen, and no other door. I obeyed her. "You might as well sit down," she said with some petulance. "There's nothing up here to hurt you." There was so much meaning in her tone oi the things that would hurt me on the floor below that I hastened tc show my confidence in her, and drew up a chair to the table. "At your service," 1 said, leaning before her with as much an appear ance of jaunty self-possession as I could muster. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" she-asked grimly. What should I answer? Could I tell her the truth? "Who are you?" she repeated im patiently, gazing on me. "You arc not Wilton. Tell me.. Who are you?" The face, hard as it was, seamed with the record of a rough and evil life, as it appeared, had yet a kindly look as it was turned on me. (TO KI3 CONTINUED.) room littered with books and papers of rarest value, secured through the most ingenious ruses. The cleverest modern ltograph col lector whose methods L came known to dealers was the late L.njamin Aus tin, a resident of the 1 r.ited States. He organized a literary society in his imagination, to which he elected as honorary members al! the distin guished men and womv! of Europe and America. When noted of their election they naturally rtplied, thank ing him for the honor conferred. In this way he secured much excellent material. Doubtless he made the col lection with a view to its subsequent monetary value. After his death his widow sold it, but values had de creased and it did not bring anything near the price that might reasonably have been exnected. She Tcld Him. "About the greatest man who ever lived in this community was Dug Skinner: bread minded, big hearted, and brilliant; and yet he died with all his talent and goodness unsus pected." "How did you come to . find out about it?" "I married his widow." Houston Post. Jap Work andWORKEKJ WO TASKS 3EEtfff?K50ffE TO VQMS n nnAsj w' wj-v.tr' ; A jw iFtszr-osavSdS. A kind-hearted wayfarer once paused to condole with a Dorset hed ger on the dullness and monotony of his work. "Ah. well, sir." the rustic replied, "it all brings night." The end of his day was the one bright spot on his horizon. The Japanese workman takes a happier view of his fate, goes on with his task as long as it is pos sible, and seems to leave it with re gret. When one lands in Japan one receives the imrression that bread winning is there counted among the pleasures of life. Whether the occupation be a rough and laborious one, such as the cultiva tion of rice, or the pounding of the grain under the huge beam-hammer, which it takes two strong men to han dle, or the ornamentation of delicate porcelain, or the still more strenuous and minute work of ivory-carving, both laborer and artist seem to bring to it the unspoiled joy of the born worker, with whom patience asd hope run hand in hand, to complete the task as perfectly as possible. If they are content to apply them selves to one siu ...a u..j .. u...v out, it is because tney manure iu ue always interested in it, seeing in every stroke a prophecy of the fair result. This holds most especially with the craftsmen, who are really artists, as the ivory-carvers are. and as their ancestors for hundreds of years have probably been. Not in one or two generations can the unerring eye. the firm but magically fine touch, be developed. Ivory is a strange ma terial; the most perfect-looking tusk may prove to have internal'striations and flaws which necessitate a modi fication of design when the work is already well advanced. The tiny "netsukes," of which collectors have carried whole cargoes away, are carved from the imperfect pieces which could not otherwise be used. Imagination is the special gift of the ivory-carver; he needs it at every turn. The man who sits, day after day, evolving a whole procession of elephants out of one huge tusk has never seen more than one, and that the moody captive at Alaska, in his life. Yet what variety, what entrain, wvw 0 I 1 km23tEBH)KwRPHPK ".dP" Jf mmmmmmmmtmmtmm gStiK&tSEB ;& ii imyH-M MFgBBF jk Kmoai!m VkBB.;.- -m iVABHaHBaaaaBiH "-:ifa '" jRk ML jy "jfjflH mWKttBm j. BP!FwUmmmmmmm Touched by Vacation Fever Mr. Glimmertcn Defines the Difference Between Two Familiar Wcrds. "I haven't looked it up in the dic tionary," said Mr. Glimmerton, "but I should say that the difference between tired and weary was something like this: A man is tired when he has worked hard, and weary when he's tired of work. "And it's a feeling of weariness that comes over me new. I feel good, first rate; and. I sleep well and eat well; life looRsTileasant to me, but I don't feel a bit like sawing wood. In fact the wood pile is repellant if not down right repulsive to me. What I want to do, to be perfectly frank with you, is to turn my back on the woodpile and get out and loaf. "Not idly, you understand, I don't want to go to sleep; about what I'd like to do is go somewhere far from the woodpile and lie down where I could hear the winds sigh and see the clouds go by and dream. The woods j beckon me, and likewise the lakes and l v. JF i PORCZUWT PRINTER, j .772 POTTZS.IO'IES WHEXI, j he puts into his fingers! PI Plodding elrnlmnts. trumpeting elephants cle- phants seeking for food or teasing a companion, eacn gives a tnuereni phase of the creature's habits and temper. As the tiny chisel travels over the precious surface, held in the right hand, but chiefly guided by the thumb of the left, the carver smiles at his own merry conceits, and for gets the days of toil wasted on a piece which in the end proved faulty, and Lad to be cast aside. He knows that Japan cannot do without him, for the skilled carvers are few. and their tasks very lengthy ones. The pro fession belongs to the Arts, and Is not reckoned in the commercial output of the country, like ceramics and lacnuer work. In almost all the other callings a whole family can lje employed at the same time, even the little children helping in the primary processes; but the carver works alone, and probably requires much domestic waiting on from his family, since he dare not spoil his delicate touch by any rough er labor. Far at the other end of the artistic social scale sits the potter bending over his work with a face of mournful intentness, his left hand mechanically spinning his jar in its rounded socket while the right shapes the brim to a smooth edge. Here is monotony in deed, for the white or red or black earthenware is very friable before the last baking and only lends itself to the simplest forms. The pure white is devoted exclusively to fune t'cal and religious uses, and has per haps been adopted because such ves sels must be of the most severe shapes and quite without ornament. The red or black clay is used for everything else the red for holding water and grain, the black for cook ing utensils. The deep rich glaze of the black and the soft earthiness of the red accord well with the brown house porch where so much of the work of life is done and where en bright days the few humble plants , are brougnt ont to grow m the sun. The potter always seems to be some thing of a philosopher; he will be poor to the end of his day.;, for though everyone needs his wares, the extreme care with which they are used makes them last for many years I never have seen a shop devoted solely to them. Yet he is content to work on till his back is bent with long stooping and he comes to resemble i one of those squat figures which the Japanese love to twist into, vases or cigar mugs, the back of the neck be ing scooped out to provide the need ful hollow. Between him and the painter of delicate china a great gulf lies. It is, I think, only of late years, since the opening of so many indus trial schools, that women have been employed on this work, which seems so appropriate for them, though deli cacy of touch comes naturally to all classes of Japanese, the long wrist training required for their caligraphy proving of immense value in paint ing. MRS. HUGH KRASER. iyWWWMWWWWWyMMWMWVMMWMWWM streams and the seashore, and nature smiles all over; and I want to go away from here, and that's what I call being weary. "I suppose it's the summer vacation microbe that has got in my blood; it always affects me that way. and now I'm positively downright weary, though fortunately not too tired to work; and so it's back to the woodpile once more for me, to be content with reading the literature and the time- ! tables till it's time for me to go." The Return from the Funeral. Near a cemetery a wine shop has been discovered with an attractive and thoughtful advertisement. The public house calls itself "At the Sign of the Return from the Funeral." The board underneath bears this considerate an nouncement: "Private rooms for per sons desirous of weeping alone." Still lower are the consoling words: "Wines and spirits of the best qual ity." Paris Letter to London Telegraph QUEER OF ACTRESSES MUISES pe-rh.il iliiliiliiliilHKyw..-.vv.. .viHiliiliiliiliiliiliV.v2 MISS JULIA MARLOWE. "f mm glad to write my endorse meat of the great remedy, Peruna. i do so most heartily. "Julia Marlowe, Any remedy that benefits digestion strengthens the nerves. The nerve centers require nutrition. If the digestion is impaired, the nerve centers become anemic, and nervous debility is the result. Peruna Is not a nervine nor s stimulant. It benefits the nerves,, bv benefitlmr digestion. Peruna frees the stomach of ca tarrhal congestions and normal diges tion is the result. In other words. Peruna goes to the bottom of the whole difficulty, when the disagreeable symptoms disappear. Mrs. J. C. Jamison, Wallace, Cal., writes: "I was troubled with my stomach for six years. Was treated by three doctors. They said that I had nervous dyspepsia. I was put on a liquid diet for three mouths. "I improved under the treatment, hut as soon as I stopped taking the medicine. I got bad again. "I saw a testimonial of a man whose case was similar to mine being cured by Peruna, so I thought I would give it a trial. "I procured a bottle at once and commenced taking it. I have taken several bottles and am entirely cured." ITS totj taCertna Fitr. Falling Slekaeao o fcpacmi. or havo CUilurca th.i uo so. tar Hcur CIscovery and Treat man? will giro tiem Immediate rllif, and all you arc ftsLtxl to lo is to send tot a reo itciuo ox ur. au; 9 EPILEPTICIDE CURE Otnspliewlthl'ooi nnclDrngj Artof CnogTMa Jur.jSOiu lSUi. C'onijiUttoujriH-tioiw.tUotcfc timonia!. o; eiiiirv?. ezc. ri.r.r. iy mail. izpzus freCi-l. Give A'JE tail fall wMraa V. IL MAT. U.B, 543 teH Stat. Hat Tvfc. The Villain's Escape. In an amateur play a fugitive from justice was supposed to have escaped from his pursuers by concealing him self under the table. The table was small and the terrified fugitive some what lengthy. The commander of the pursuing party rushed ou the stage and fell over the legs of the man he was searching for. Picking himself up and ludicrously n:bb:::g his shins, he convulsed his audience by exclaiming in true dra matic style: "Ha! ha! The dastardly villain has eluded us again." INTUITION. Fortune Teller Tcu will shortly meet with an accident. Victim How did you know I -owned an automobile? For Any Disease or Injury to the eye, u-e PKITITS EYE .ALVE, al soitiU'Sy harmless, nets quiekh. 2Tk. . All druffitts or Howard Bros., Butialo, X. Y. A cranky bachelor says that heaven is probably so calied because there are no marriages there. Life is learning, suffering. loving; and the greatest of tLcse is loving. Ellen Key. Ycu always g?t full value ;n Lewis' Fitilde Binder i-traij:Lt nc ci(;:ir. Your dealer or Lewi.-' Factory, l'eona. 111. Many a patent leather shoe covers a big ho!e in a stocking. Mm. Wlnnlow's Soothliie S.rrnp. For rhJWrcn terthlnc. rof tcn3 the gunr. TfJurr tn-Eaiciuit.ut:.;iajB-tn, cures wln-icollc. '.cabo:Ue. A dumb waiter out of order is an unspeakable nuisance. SICK HEADACHE ICAKTEfCS Fiver H PILLS. Positively cared by these Little Pills. They also relieve Dis tress from Dyspepsia, In digestionand Too Hearty Eat in p. A perfect rem edy for Dizziness, Nau sea, Drowsiness, Bad Taste in the Mouth, Coat ed Tonsrue, Pain in the Side, TORPID LIVEK. They regulate the Bowels. Purely Vegetable. SHALL PILL. SMALL DOSE. SHALL PRICE. Genuine Must Bear Fac-Simiie Signature Jm ,ammm fel mWMBStiaBEHimffiRn CARTERS TlVER g PIU.S. REFUSE SUISTITUTES. t -.