Evening Star Newspaper, April 24, 1921, Page 62

T Was Her Knowl- ' edge of Human Nature That En- abled Her to Trace t_he. Stolen Money. 1 | | “ARTHA SPOONER arrived at ’ Grandma Cutcheon's, breath- less. She had hurried to in- *’sure the freshness of her rews,'And to make certain she would be the first to impart it. “Sorhebody stole three hundred dol- lars from Waiter Shepherd,” she said, before her foot touched the top step. “I'svant to know said Grandma, laying her knitting in her lap for a moment. “Have they diskivered who done it?" “1_calelate Martha said hain't lettin' “Tae bad, Too. bad. Shepherd. But the' steal it ketch. Grandma s'picions.” “but that they got knowingly; on aid Grandma slowly. ..Not so much fer Walter He kin afford to lose it hain’t nobedy kin afford to ...1 dread to hear who they Cutcheon looked off across the fields. and her face was sad. *The occurrence of evil in the world -always saddened Grandma. Her expression changed Thete they be.” she said, pointing with a knit- ting needle to a_ young man who shambled along with a bamboo fish- ing pole over his can of bait in his hand. Ten feet behind the young man shambled a boy. obviousiy copying the gait and physical mannerisms of his leader. He. too, was equipped with pote and bait A “Follers him like a doz.” sa Grandma. Allus _a-follerin® Dick Towne cvery step he.takes “Wuthless coots,” said sharpiy. Remind me of them dogs the mis sionary was talkin' about Uother day. What name was it she give ‘em? Prairie dogs? No. ‘'Twam't that. Pariah. That's the = word. Dick’s a kind of a pariah dog, and Beggy's a pariah puppy....Don't un- derstand the boy worshipin' him like he ‘pears to do.” Nor would Grandma have under- stood better the worship of Beggy Turnip—boyhood’s corruption of Ben- jamin Turner—for Dick Towne could she have been their constant com- vanion. Dick’ Towne maintained the fiction that he worked at his trade of paint- ing and paperhanging. for the most lazy, the most spiftiess, the mos: worthless of men” must fortify the inrer citadel to which their self-re- spect has fled and become invisible to the world. Hé lived alone in the dilapidated unpainted shanty that had been his father's. 1t was one of those - structures whose lines had sagged to curves, and whose curl- ing shingles gave the effect of feath- Martha shoulder and al 1life, for Dick took his preserver hom: ! with him and allowed him to slegp On | the floor beside his bed, and firever after he permitted Beggy to ko with | i o al him wherever he went, not walking | ten feet behind, but proudly at his| side! | But even d n in the land of actuality,| t takes vou ‘em,” id | Beggy. reverently, Toward sundown they struck back across the fields, coming out upon the | turnpike above Grandma Cutcheon's house. She saw them approaching ' to git & | and faced Grandma again. 'Kin 1 have another?” he asked. “Calc’'late so. Be you hungry?” *“*Taiu’t for me,” said_Beggy. for him. ® He received the second cqpkie and ran after his companion. “Here.” he said, diffidently. yourn.” Dick received the gift into his fin- gers, looked at it, sniffed of it. “Huh," he said. but to Beggy's infinite delight he began to eat it. Beggy dropped “It's It's ers upon the back of some squalid great bird He fished, he hunted. or he loafed. TUpon rare occasions he made pre- tense of gainful occupation by pick- ing berries or by trapping. - His fa- ther had left behind.-him in the local savings bank a fortume of three thou- sond and odd dollars, which returned Dick an income of something like a hundred and fifty dollars a year. His scheme of life was based upon the preservation of the capital sum, and existence upon the interest. He stilt kad one year the advantage of thirty. Pleasant Point accepted “him. in- deed. it relied upon him,‘as small New England hamlets are given to relying upon those local characters which give them color and conversa- tion. Such characters are indispen- sable and seem never to fail. There is something in the New England moral or economic system whick breeds them as inevitable "tonse- quences. As for Beggy Turnip, he was son and sole heir to the villages pre- | mier dipsomaniac and petty criminal.} In a less human and more efficient civilization Beggy would have been taken away from his father and cared | for institutionally: which might have -killed him, but would have uplifted him. As it was, he throve, and there was no boy of his age in the town- ship who dared knock from his shoui- der the provocative chip. For the most part, he shifted for himself. riot interfered with by the good-hearted truant officer. Dick Towne could not arise 3o earl but that he found Beggy waiting for him to emerge. The bright eyes of the boy would fasten themselves upon the face of the young man with a hungry, hopeful expression. His hope was that Dick would notice his presence by a word. If. as was the case nine times out of tén, the young maen passed on without greeting or notice. Beggy waited until his hero was ten feet ahead, and. exhibiting n of disappointment or anger, would follow. as’ Grandma Cutcheon said, like a dog. S0 now the young man and the boy crossed the fields within the range of Grandma Cutcheon’s eyes, Ppathetically alike in pose and move- ment and even in wearing apparel, to pass from sight among the s macs which crested the hill above the pond. They descended the slope and skirted the water on their way 1o wellknown points extending through the impeding border of lily * ¥ % % | pads.. At the apex of one of these Dick Towne stationed himself. his legs dangling over the crumbling bank. Beggy. with eyes studying his companion, seated himself a dozen feet away, reflecting in every move- ment the motions of his elder. It was as though Dick Towne were re- flected in some mirror endowed with grim.- ironical humor. When Dick baited his hook, Beggy impaled an angleworm. Beggy spat upon his bait in exdct imitation of Dick's mannerism 1p pe-forming that fisher- man’s r Dick cast his hook into! the water and sat slouchingly, drow- v. watching his bobber. Beggy's| sole dstinguishing movement was to turn his head while he studied min utely Dick’s posture and rectified any | failures in his own conformity to it.; Neither spoke. The man had no: ! mignified his awareness of the boy's| . : t lace, and, mounted existence that day. and now, per-| SecTet meetnE DICC, SOU, TP ige Raps. he forgot Begzy utterly. while g80% SN P Village - calaboose. | “YOU LEETLE THIEF! YOU in the warm. humming, lazy air hel m.qn its doors from their hinges. UP TO. YOU STOLI avite gave over mental activity and ! JUATH Tk “from his cell. and ride surrendered himself to ultimate irresponsibility was * % %8 BUT Bessy awake, alert, dreaming as boys imagining as boys imagine bank upon which they sat became a cliff, the water at its black. hungry depths. The cliff's edge erumbled under Dick, nd he fell down and down into those waiting waters—and sank. Beggy pictured himsel as leaping to his feet, poising on the brink, plunging in beautiful, curving dive. He came to the sur- face and looked about for his friend, but his friend was invisible. the bliss of dream, shallow I'JT is true that Beggy Turnip needed | Beggy found hours of something akin | gelf the captain of a brave and des- and | The foot | back to his deferential position. ten paces in the rear. Beggy followed Dick home, and then scuffled away to the rickety, fenceless, weed-grown place where he lived with his father. Mr. Turner was not there, a thing which caused Beggy no surprise, and the boy went about get- ting for himself such food as the larder could provide. > When he had eaten. he went out again in search of Dick, but Dick had vanished. Though Beggy hung about until 10 o'clock, his patience went without reward. He could not under- stand it. This was twice the thing had happened. two evenings in suc- cession that Dick Towne, the easiest of men to locate at any time was not to be found. It worried Beggy and weighed upon him. He went h:)ha disquieted and dreamed restidss dreams.. - Beggy would have been_more dis- quieted had he hunted for Dick in the village instead of waitiig-dbout the house for him to return. The vil- lake knew where Dick was. Long before it went to bed that night Pleasant Point was made aware of Dick's wheceabouts. and with shak- ings of the head it allowed it hadi expected something of the kind to happen any day. Dick was in the calaboose under the town hall, charged with the theft of Walter Shepherd's thrée hundred dollars. “Have they mixed that little Beggy Turnip, boy_into it was Grandma | Cutcheon’s first question when Miss | Spooner arrived With the news. “He hain't been mentioned— “Um. Find the money? Nary hide nor hair of it.” “Dick hain't owned up.”* It was a statement. not a question. “Sticks to it he never done it. Boid as brass. But they got him all snarled up with circumstantial evidence. “Don’t believe he done it said Grandma, firmly. “Dick hain't got the look of a thief.” She sighed. “Figgered to git my blueberries canned up. and now comes this. Boys and men is more importannt'n blue- berries. though. . . . Poor leetle fel- ler. My heart jest bleeds for that Beggy boy. “You hain't cal'latin’ this!™ exclaimed Martha. “I be,” grandma said, firmly. * * % to mix into sympathy sorely. His world had splintered into ruins about him, and he stood appalled. ‘What'll they do with him.” he de- | manded tearfully again and again. “Send him to the pen'tentiary, may- be for ten year, maybe for twenty. 2 Breakin' and enterin’ a dwell- in’ in the night time { Ten or twenty vears without Dll'k:l It was unthinkable. He could not comprehend the monstrousness of it | and. bewildered and crushed, he wan- dered oft alone with his agony, for agony it was. % The irrepressibility of the imagina. tion of boyhood is a marvelous ift from heaven. Even the most weighty grief cannot stay its operation, and 1o happiness in his plans to rescue Dick and make away with him to a Jand so distant that the Writ of no court could reach him. He saWw him- perate band of outlaws. who at a word from him would gather at the away with a ringing cheer of tri- be currenc; the old served, !ter pot where Beggy ¢lapped tam cover quickiy and slunk inside barn, where, after peering bout, to make certain he was not ob- he reopened the can and the bilis out upon the floor. oufted them. Two hundred and dol ! It was the sum Wal- Shepherd had los ten n n agi v umped He ine! the day was a wonderful success., i, 20 e T e | Presently Dick hooked a bass and oripvious Y, L aWas dthestolor | inass money.” To Beggy the matter was -3 ear. He had happened upon the Dic his ill- otten treasure Beggy stuff, had hidden 1 the bills back into the can and hid them under a rotting floor board exposed then he sat down upon an Il to think the matter S v e R and. holding her knitting in her apron.y through. The moral issues were so arose and went into the house to re-|intricate and befogged Begay's turn with a big golden ginger cookie | brain, all unused to casuistry as it in her hand. Dick passed. Grandma|Was. only dirted here and there up Walkoato the steps and called: ! blind_alieys” of thought. His first| j idea was to return the money to Wal- er Shepherd on condition Dick stopped. . should be released. But had he a “Got a cookie for you,” said Grand-{ right to do that? The money was ma. Dick’s, because Dic 1 gone to the Beggy entered the gate and sham-|jabor of stealing it, and was going bled up the path. He took the cookie. | to jail for the theft. 1f Dick actual- said, “Much obleeged.” and was turn-|ly went to prison. then it was elear ing away when, suddenly. he paused [ the money was Dick’s and no other - umph, daring the powers of the law | In common with many boys, Beggy | hain't tr slieved a prison the to take the prisoner from them. .. A Following this, Beggy was seized | thief indisputable title to stolen i with a desire to do something con- | goods. erete for his friend. He wanted to| Kut Dick had not been convicted fecl that he was working for Dick, |therefore there was a cloud on his ti- and he searched his mind for possible ! tle. and Walter Shepherd could i Service to render. At last he hit upon {claim to an couity. He, Beggy Turnip, 15t Bait' He knew well how Dick |might assert ownershin, for was it | detested the labor of digging worms. |not buried treasure, and was not the | So. spade in hand. he went to the finding of buried treasure most ! incient barn where Dick and him-!ionorable of ail known m. of ac- self weres accustomed to fill their bait jauiring money? On the who he con- cans. His intention was clear: When cluded, the lulrll-'_l lV;E)x»\' ¢ theory wa Dick emerged from prison Beggy |the strongest. Finders, kecpers! But would be ready for him, ready to lay [an obstacle arosc-—he would as- 2t his feet angleworms enough to last | Sert his titie to Dick's impov for the remainder of his lifetime. He [ment. . . . But would not Dick p would dig a barrel of worms and|fer to give up the money rather t It should be his career | 8pend ten or twenty years in the pen- Of course, it was a great Well, Beggy knew what had hap- pened! He fiiled his lungs and dived, and there, tangled in water vegeta- tion was Dick, faintly struggling. Beggy tore him free, mounted with bim to the surface. and swimming on his back towed the unconscious man ashore. There he worked over him, making use of every legendary method known to the lore of boy- hood. Beggy's eves filled with actual tears as he flung himself in _imagination upon Dick’s unconscious body, and bury them. y Y A barrel of worm! His heart Zlowed as he imagined the distant astounded eyes a full bar- fore l’.’)lck' el of bait! "He set hmiself to the labor of lo;p e with enthusiasm. For an hour many were the obstacles to his spade when the first sigh of returning Life told him his friend was not dead. his heart swelled and his throat hardened with the joy of it. And then Dick opened his eyes and recognised him snd remembered what had hap- pened! He shook Begxy's hand, ac- toally shook his hand! And then— then life began, a glowing, wondertul itentiary? !sum of money, and at the end of the sider it worth whil of Beggy Turnip, fact in mind, note that Be ten or twenty years it would belong hen Dick, free at last, return- ¥ yea ald :‘:ymwm»n-m Point, and he led him ::,xpl:rlf:r r 2&?&,\”11 1) Kt A n_nm:x vered be- claim to sure trovi e tol thelseczetiepatiand nrca |mndv- a difference. Dick might con- When you are considering the case remember that he delved and harvested. It was not always) /a8 ‘l;‘l_rlm-: o ‘;'f,',m"‘\(',‘ q»r_(v:‘xr'“.:. mind bbish, and « sum of $290 was o him in L L A haustible wealth With this gry did not Which he had to unearth and toss 1 mind, sote DASt ESRES 910 not Axide. One of these was a tin can |10 B SOCOn0 (DK OF SOl (LS such as contains ground coffee. AS |} "\ide of it must be to obtain his he tossed it aside it caught and ar-|pg made of it as as if you or 1 rested his eye. It was obviously new and shiny—yet it had been buried eighteen inches under the ground; and it ‘was heavy: it contained something; s spade ‘and picke Tothe cam” ‘He hefied it Then he |5 Yamoved the cover and peered in- Side. It was almost full of money, of ti found a million dollars in some rot- ng chest and gave it all for the suc- cor of a friend. After an hour of painful reasoning, eggy felt he could not reach a deci on upon the facts in his possession. He must obtain other,data. By a circuitous roule, with the sub- f [ ner DUM LEETL MA CUTCHEON-DETECTIVE tlety o fan Indian. he crept away from the old barn and made his way to the village. The lockup was in the basement of the town hall. and Beggy made a circuit of this struc- ture, ‘spying out the land. Between the town house occupied b: nEer—was 4 narrow strip earth, and giving upon thi were two barred windows be h the level of the soil, drawing their light through little boxed pock ats. Beggy looked up and down the strect. then ducked between the buildings and threw himself at full length beside a window. He reached with neck and shoulders down into the boxed pocket and peered into the comparative darkne The window | he found. had been removed to admit a pa- of mysterious Come over called A s me. D where we kin talk What you want aid Dick gruffl I jest ‘want to tell vou" (here ro- mance got the better of Beggy for a ). “that I'm figgerin’ on rescuin’ 1 hain't got it all planned yet. if the' hain't no other way I'll n a file or a ax or a saw or ivou but pass you | somethin® i >{0 “Say, Dic * ok X <IT out of there. and lemme be,” 4 caid Dick harshly " Beggy persisted; “if you really stole that money, which would you druther—keep it where it's hid s0's you'd have it when you git out of prizon, or give it up and git free You git away from there!” a4 Beggy, I where hid. and 1 calc’lated on givin' it up if you w willin'. Maybe they'd let you off then. So I come to task.” There was a to the window, “What's t he demanded. “I ggund it. and I could fetch it down nd shove it in to you. Then you give it back if they'd let you off. “I_h 't no thie sdid Dick with sudden fury. “I didn’t steal no money They send me to prison for a mil- lion —— He stopped speaking. while Beggy held his breath. Then he burst out in sudden rage. * tle You dum leetie thief said, raising his voice. know you're up to. You stole that | money ‘and your'e scairt, that's what! You want to give it back, and you | dassn’t. You want to put it off on me, and have folks pointin’ to me and callin’ ‘me thief. You want me to own found use. Dick drew nearer | | cou i 1 i | he h to doin’ it so’s you kin go free I hain't no thief, andl hain't to own up to bein’, no matter happens.” hain’t . [Rdidnit < S SiT THIEF!” HE E THAT MONEY NG no sich thing, stammered in bewilderment. i t out. you lettle thief, ‘fore constable hdrew from the window. white, tears stood un. shed in eves, and his heart was cold and painful| within him. Dick hated him. Dick "wasn't a_thief, be- cause Dick said he wasn't—but all the same eggy Kknew he was, for here was the money in that place. says I'm a-tryin' to put it onto to it out of it myself.” he mut- 10 himself. Dick could accuse ihim of that! The boyish chivalry in Lhim recoiied in horror. ! ¥P'resently he found hims again, and less 'miserable. “Dick don't want to be called a thief.” he said to ihimself. “He'd druther go to jail.” Beggy pondered over that, adding it ito the other data in his_possession. and reached his decision. He removed' of money from its place of Iment, wrapped it in an old paper and set out across the One thing he had to find out Beggy Y ou /T can th Beggy His face w w hi i tered f thinking new fields. before he acted, and he was going to Grandma Cutcheon for the informa- [tion. Folks said grandma knew egery- thing, and she was always kind to boys. He' passed through her gate and walked diffidently up to the steps Grandma nodded over her knitting at him. “Come asked. “No'm, come to ask somethin’. If the' was somebody arrested for somethin’ —stealin'and “somebody else done it, and that other feller took back the money that was stole, and give it up and confessed right out that he done for ‘nother cookie?” she Il and its only adjoining | it, | 807 * Course,” said Grandma. Without vin’ no trial nor noth- vould they let the arrested feller “Yes," said Grandma. “Why?" “Jest kind of thought of iL" said Beggy uneasily. “And s'posin’ a feller that really didn't do it was to say he did. and nobody knowed the differente " | “Why." said Grandma, “if a man con fessed a crime. I calc’late the authorities weuld be willin' to take his word for Fi%d Grandma Cutcheon was staring at him ! queeriy, and he wanted to go away from the before she began ing questions. “What you got there?” she asked. Beggy shifted- from one foot to the other and looked everywhere cxcept at irandma. © “Worms for bait.” he. said }finaliy in a strangled voice, and casting side all hopes of effocting a courteous escape, he turned and took to his heels. Grandma stood up and peered after him over the steel rims or her spectacles. Beggy ran for a couple of hundred ards and then slowed down to a walk. rich feeling overspread him, a gor- geous sensation. He was. indecd, about to perform a notewortl act; but he viewed it now with the glowing eves of h imagination, and his own nobility almost overpowered him. Dick would sce all rignt. He would show Dick : There was one affecting part. where Dick came to his untimely grave and aid a wreath upon it and uttered beau- tiful phrases about him. With a certain air calculated to be appropsiate to the occasion, Beggy | turned into Main street and marched to the door of the town hall. But as he stepped inside, he became a boy again. “Well, Bub”" said Justice Hopper. “I—1I come to own up,” said Beggy. “What o2 “Stealin’ that off of Walter Shepherd.” “Go 'waw " It was an exclamation of astonishment. “What's that you're a- sayin'?" ‘I took that money, and now_ you got to B DIk Dona e hera baath et idaE have nothin’ to do with it, and nobody else did but jest me, and I kin give the money back. but 1 won't ever give back a cent if you don't-let Dick go and tell folks he hain’t no thief.” “Wa-al, I swan to man! hain't you? Allus said I ngper come to no good end. i#re son. Um. . . Still _got ghe meney, ch? Where is it? Produce right off. Bub, if you know what's good for you.” Not till you let Dick Towne loose.” “Huh! If you done it, and own up to it, the hain’t no reason for keepin' Dick. ot as 1 know of. Hey, con- stable ! in | money Turner boy, you wouidn't Like father. * ok ok K THE constable entercd leisurel moving a certaif something from o g . HIS VOICE. “I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE AND YOU'RE SCAIRT, THAT'S WHAT! ; : | cheek to cheek with practiced tongue motion. “Knowed you was wrong about Dick Towne all the time,” said the justice, “but 1 didn't want to say Inothin' till 1 was ready to act. Here's the real thief!!" “That there kid!" Him?" s the justice. “Been a-w tchin® him, and now I got around him so0's I wrung a confession out of him. . . . You kin release Dick Towne. When vou've cleared him out of his cell. you come back and put this young miscreent into it. Calc'late it's lucky for the community he was ketched “so young. No tellin’ what depredations” he'd 'a’. been guilty of if he was lat to grow'up' at large. . You téll where you got that ney hid, Hub.” s Dick goih free?” You heardthem orders of mine.” “I got to se¢ him let loose first.” Presently ‘Beggy saw the amazed Dick emerge; from the door of the mo town hall apd_ walk up the street, évidently bewifdered by, his sudden freedom. . Beggy would have liked one word from ‘his hero, of even & glance, but that bogn was denied him. He turned toithe justice’and held out his paper-wrapped' ¢an. ¥ e “Here's the money.” he sald. “Hm'it with me all the t e.% In an hour this latest development in the cause celepre was common property in the village. Grandma Cutcheon heard it promptly. She lis- tened, making no comment, but went on with her knitting, clicking her steel needles in the sunlight of her front stoop. It is true that she could not have seen her needles had she tried ever so hard, for there was ' -y By Clarence Budington Kelland | Something in her eves that made clear vision impossibie, and she was repeating over and over to hersell silently: “Hain't the hearts of boys wonder- A Dbody kin understand Him sa. ‘Suffer leetle children.” . . . When her visitor was gone grand- ma laid her knitting in her lap and stared at her bent hands. studied the wrinkles and the prominent veins upon their backs, Grandma knew three generations of Pleasant Point. - She knew individu- als and family histories, and. because this was <o, she could, with-some de- grec of certainty, make a list of the men' and women in the village who would be weak or wicked enough to perform this act. In this imstance there was not only the presence of theft, but a premedi- tated and deliberate theft. The man who stode Walter Shepherd’s money accomplished his end only after knowledge and plapning. It was not weakness, but wickedness. Grandma threw a shaw! over her shoulders and started for the village. “Fust off.” she said, “I'll buy that; and send it in u.' She stopped in at Brokaw's store. lark, you kin gimme a dime's V\UT)\ of that there stick candy,” she id Hain’t got no stick candy.” ou had a full pail t'other day. old out the whole dinged pail to wunst.” Grandma looked up quickly. “A whole pail of candy to wunst. Who- ever had sich a sweet tooth as that “Poot Sawyer. Come in grinnin’ and savs he w Zoin’ 1o have all the candy he wanted for wunst in his life nd I hain't seen him since. Guess he's makin' a business of eatin’ ‘Pay for it, Mark? DL"“H(! you figger he'd 'a’ got it with- Afternoon. Mis' Cutcheon.” County still boardin' Poot with you, Eben?" es, and he's a sizht more trouble ‘n the money we git pays fer."” s he anywheres about. Eben He's been layin' low fer a day or wyer | | 20. Dunno what he's up to. Calc-late 1 kin find him som'ers around the barn. "Il go out and call - him,” sad grandma. She walked out toward the out- buildings and called. Presently there was a stir in the loft over the car- riage shed, and a man apprared down the ladder. He was a sight to distress. kempt beard: vague, lusterless eves peered from a pasty face “Poot” said grandma, “folks says you liké candy He laughed with the glee of a six- vear old child. “Candy! Candy!” he said. “Isn’t it nice. You can h want now ™" He ceased laughing ve all you nd his face as- sumed a look of cunning jot not candy. Give Poot a penny.” “You've got a whole pail of it,” grandma said sharply. 2 “You can’'t have none. You can't have none. It's all Poots™ “Of course it is. You don't have give me any, Poot. But whan you've et this pail what you goin’ to do?" The look of cunning returned to the half-wit's eyes and he wagged his head, knowingly. “You can't buy any more” said grandm he paused and looked him n the eye, holding his wavering at- tention Because they've found the monexy They found where vou buried it. and Squire Hopper's got it.” The creature uttered an animal ery. “Poot’s money. Money. money money! All _the candyy Poo nted”” He set off at a clumdy lope Grandma called sharply to the man of the house. “Follow him, Eben.’ Poot took across the fields. Eben in pursuit. Grandma came up with them where she expected to find them, be- hind the barn where Dick and Beggy were accustomed to dig bait, and there Voot was pawing in the earth with both hands. while he uttered pitifui wails of gr a-zoin’ to take that boy with me. Grandma was fortunate. Her er- rand did not carry her far, for in front of Chancy ore she met Dick Towne and dr: = him aside. For fifteen minutes she Iwas in close conversation with the vcung man and then. side by side | American Statue of T is now nearly a hundred vears sifice the United States recog- | nized the independence (from Spain) of the South American re- publics, and 1923 will be the centen- nial year of the Monroe doctrine. Therefore, it was a very appropriate thing for the city of New York to dedicate a statue in Central Park to the memory of the great Bolivar dur- tache were reddish, giving ‘him a rather bizarre appearance in that re- spect. He never shaved until 1 His forehead was high. but not broad. and from his early manhood lined with wrinkles: the eyebrows thick and well chiseled; the eves black. alert and penetrating: the nose was large and what might be called per- fect. His chgeks were sunken and the cheek bones prominent. His mouth was ugly and the lips rather thick. The upper lip was notably long. His cars were large, but shapely. When ing the past week. he was in good humor, Bolivar's as- < o i pect was peaceable and engaging Simon Bolivar of Venczuela hasjenough, but he had a terible look been generally accepted as the lib- erator of South America. He fought the Spanish power in Venezuela, in Colombia, in Bolivia, Ecuador and Peru. From 1819 to 1830 he was at time or another at the head of one affairs in Venezuela, Colombia, Bo- livia, Ecuador and Peru. It was his cherished hope to form a great cen- tralized republic. to be called Colom- bia, made up of the territory of north- west South America. especially Vene- zuela and New Gravado, or what is now Colombia and Ecuador. In 1830 Bolivar had to renounce his plan for such a league. The separate i entities could not be induced to_pool their interests. Bolivar resigned the | presidency or dictatorship of Vene- zuela. Colombia and Ecuador the sum- | mer of 1830, Hix health was already | seriously affected. and he died near! Carthagena, Colombia, on December 17. 1830. It was his plan to retire from South America and end his d. in Europe. He was born at C in Venezuela, July 24. 1783. He was rich man, owning more than a thou- sand slaves. i | He lost the greater part | of his property during the revolution in Venezuela. but it was a part of his program to free all the slaves. A good many vears ago a statue |of Bolivar was placed in Central Park, New York. That statue has been removed and there are other statues here and there in this coun- try. The new statue, dedicated April 19, is the work of Mrs. Sally James Farnbam, an American sculptress, who has had a remarkable career. She early showed talent in being able | to pick up a piece of paper and tear | out a perfectly recognizable portrait. | She paid no attention to this gift for vears. Then, finding it extremely de- sirable to make some money, she went into training for the sculptor’s work, and was immediately success- ful. + It is said that Mrs. Farnham earned $20.000 the first year she was regularly at work. 1 The description of Bolivar given is | drawn from the memoirs of 4;vn| Daniel Francis O'Leary, a di:«‘lnv: Fuished son of Ireland. who was for years 4 member of Bolivar's military and civil family. Bolivar's height was five foot six inches. English measure. His chest was narrow. body slight—he all {When he was angry. He was a thorough connoisseur of the kitchen, but heartily enjoyed the rough fare of his cowboys (llaneros) and Indians. = & % x Bolivar was an active man. men could stand such fatigue. Few After la hard day, enough to exhaust the! time working five or six hours at his papers or dancing. for which he had a great fondness. Out of twenty-four hours it was his custom to get five or six hours of sleep. He could sleep The range and accuracy sight were remarkable. His were not superior to him in that regard. He was a dexterous man with sword and pistol and wonderfui- 1y skillful and bold as a horseman. But his seat in the saddle was not es- pecially good. He was fastidious in his dress and conspicuously neat. He took very little pleasure in eity life He had the gift of conversation. He liked anecdotes and could tell them well. His career. naturally, sup- plied him with a fund of anecdotes. His imagination was vivid in a vivid style, but with precision and clearness. Bolivar was an orator. He had the gift of persuasion, and inspired con- fidence. It was this that carried him through. In the long years when he was the military and civil head of the state, his gifts of utterance and of persuasion saved the day for him over and over again. He had the creative genius as well, almost knew how to Tmake something of nothing. A great man always, he was, if any- thing greatest in adversi His enemies had to admit that “Bolivar vanquished was more to be dreaded than Bolivar victor.” ! Bolivar's administrative abilities | were extraordinary. He had grown up on a large plantation of a thou- sand slaves, and had early been made familfar with the methods of trans- acting public business in Europe. He was scrupulous in attention to busi- ness, answered every letter sent him. His secretary would read to him the Long greasy hair mingled with an un- | Dinsmore’s general | the Greqt’ ,Bf),liv most robust, he might be seen any | He wrote | they walked to the town fafl “Squire Hooper.” said grandm “Dick’s goin' down to tell the bo Re kin go free.” “Jest as you say. Mis' Cutcheon” *or ok e DICK TOWNE was not sullgnsae e descended the dark,slaireg.nor was he calm. A thing had befalien him, an unbelievable thing 1t had |startied him. The thougnt that a |fellow human Being could care for jhim so much as to confess a crime that he might go free staggered him He recalled the days of the spfing and the summer—how Deggy Mad been his “xhadow, always present. | never intrusive, and now he knew ba had apprecigted 1hat companiofsBin and- doglike devotion. _He . 4 aware tHAY BERRY's prodence rlllu\h' had been grgtéful 1o b leetle cubs . . the lebtle £ o £aid 1o himaelt,"for ‘e wag marsc | Tate 7 He pushed open the-deor. “Hey. Beggy.” he said. roughly. e | barrassed, “1 come to &it' you Aur ™ {1 knowed it said Beggy, tearful, 11y, but with rapture in his heart; {knowed voud git me out | He had known no such thing. tm- {agined no such thing. He had be- {lieved himself deserted by his hero. | was miracu {ed him and re “Beggy.” said never stole that Sawyer”’ “Oh, him” said Beggy They went up- the stairs, irandma Cutcheon mey them “You bovs better come home to sup- per to my house.” she said ! " Dick shook his head. “Me 'n' Beggy's | 2ot to go off together. We got things {to do. Me Beggy can't come Dick had remembef- cued him. Dick, still mon. 1t pus. . B gruffiy N was Fool ! ‘ where « He started across the street. Beggy until Dick was a dozen led and then followed: Dick stop ‘ome up here alongside of me he “How kin 1 talk to you Grandma stood a moment with tch him along to the squire’s™| ..' puck there. You 'n’ me's got to puckered brows, and then, without)Said grandma to Eben {pian how 1 go to work, and you live stopping to chat, as was her usual| Justice of the Peace Hopper was| ip me and I do what's right hy custom, she left the store and set out | bewildered. This ecrime was becom-y ;- puin't way out of il. seems down the street with the determined |ing too complicated for him. as though.” pace of one bound for a definite desti-| “Be you sure we got the right one ! 00 VE i oyl 1ana inte Diek’s nation. She passed the town hall and [nOW?" he demanded. uneasily. oCf .4 )ik grasped it with authorit: |continued through the village until|grandma | The world became a golden haze of she came to the first farmhouse to-| “Hain't no mistake this time.” said/jov 1o Beggy. They walked on te- ward the east. She madé her way |grandma. with some trace of grim-!|\.rd the distant pond. Beggy facing around to the back door, where a man |ness, “thanks.to the way the Jaw!riiure too beautiful even to be vis- was washing his face in a tin basin |t00k holt of this thing. . You' clized in a dream, Dick facing ro- on a bench. {keep Poot Sawyer right in’this office | o nyipilities and duties, facing the “Afternoon, Eben,” she’said, placid-|till 1 get-back. T got a errant tol, "or his ol vagabondage. > do—and hen - I come back I'm 9 looked down at Beggy. and some- {how what resentment for his loss re- |mained in his heart faded away and vanished 2 “I calc'late T'm satisfied,” he said 1 Printad by special arranze AMetropolitan Service: and T Star.) (Copyright ment with the Washingten ar given to reading the Greek and Latin classics in French transiations. He was always sensitive o newspapsr- criticism. It is extraordinary that during his public hfe of twenty years he never shook off' his sensi- tiveness., He had a high opinion of the mission of the press. attributing | much of the stability of English gov- ernmental affairs. to the influence of the press in England. : Delicate Mechanics. T is a delicate bit of mechanics to turn out an ivory billtard ball which is a perfect sphere, which has its center of gravity in the center of !the . ball ,and which is _resilient { enough, and not too resilient, but to turn out a set of three balls, each of which is of the same size, .samc weight, eXact spl.eres amd of the |same degree of resillency, is one of ithe most delicate operaiions in me- { chanics: » It is important that the'balls €houll Ihave the same degree of resiliency ! because as this quality differs so does | the angle at which the balls' will re- | bound or glance. Great billiard play- ers own, their own billiard balls, and they have learned pretty much what ! those balls will do. In a game be- tween experts each already Knows,or. each very soon learns. the characier- istics or peculiarities of the balls Billiards is- & game in which truth counts. The balls must be true, the cushions must be true. the tables must be truc and the eye and hand of the {player must be true. The standard size of a billiard bail jis two and one-sixteenth inches in {diameter. but in ordering a new set it is well to have them turned so that will be two and thre inches. Though balls re well seasoned when sent out by first-class’ makers. when they arc used in the warm air of billiard rooms expapsion i apt to take place and it may not take place evenly. Probably it will not. Arter the balis have been thoroughly ripened or “acclimatized’ they can be turned down to the size of two and one-sixteenth inche: Billiard ball expansion i a prob- lem. Men who are very careful with a fine trio of billiard balls will, after using them. put them in a béx of” awdust which has been saturated with sweet o It is said” that this will kefp the balis in that condition in whaich they are truest, or more nearly tru All billiard balls are true when they are sent out by responsible makers. but they do not as » ruie remain true. official and private correspondence that came in. AS the secretars along with the reading., Bolivar dic- tated his answer to every point. and | his decision, once made. was rarel changed. He could keep three| manuenses employed at the same time. If anything interrupted him. he | was never al a 1085 as to where 10| begin again. His memory was pro- digious. both for facts and persons, | and this, of course, greatly facilitated | his dispatch of business. 1 He was a voracious render. He | spoke and wrote French correctly jegs. His hands and feet were small iand well modeled. His hair black, fine and curly. He wore his hair long until 1821, when he begun to grow bald. After that he cut it short. and most of his portraits show him with short hair. His whiskers and mus-| and Italian suffieiently well. He knew little of English, but could read it very well. was very much - s N went | they get ish often careless ndifferent it is often rough ball that is true in the il become untrue even £t treatment you can gi it e in temperature is an im- portant tactor, for ivory will expand and contract the ivory may of the ball than another. spherity of the ball will turbed. When there is a difference in the specific gravity of ivory the mak- ers aim to use that part of the ivory which is heaviest as the center of the ball. be denser in one part, UKVEILING THE BOLIVAR STATUE IN CENTBAL PARK: | s s i s re in une part-of the ' ball than another, for the reason that . Hence the? be dis- " i ] ' ’ [ - - I - RS » - " ” e T ot P a1 " . -t !