Evening Star Newspaper, June 11, 1922, Page 64

L4 . [ & > 2 < < - * ' . 4 THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, JUNE. 11, 1922—PART 4. J P \ / ; A Story by Bruno Lessing T was sirange (hat 1 should hear was merely looking for him. Once he upon which @ tclephone stood, and|charmed’ life. I didn't have any mean, of courss, IUs too bad that|sent that message to Count Dimitrl, t. : : " ; of Levy for the first time from |asked Kobliner: lighted & cigar. friends in thess days, but I had one|you nmever can understand our feel-|and he said he would give h:r’\iymonly Sy ot rememba ;’z::'l::{& Skt s oy the Tips of Cisey Vet so it was.| “Is that @ room bevond that door| “What for " he asked calmly, smil- |enemy. e was a Russian nobleman. |ings. We were two orphans and, Ilon condition that I fought a duel with Jont frue, Tell him T tord you sbout One never knows from whom one | there - |ing at Casey's excited countenance. |1 suppose you hate noblemen just as |assure you, we saw many sad days.” |him. Well, sir, I immediately tele- “Dear Honey Boy: the time 1 nearly murde )a n-a aie shall first b of some one else.| Kobliner nodded. “For hitting me over the head with |much as I do?" The memory of those days seemed |phoned that I was ready.for him. But| “I am so ashamed’'of myself! I|/0'Brien. Tell m’;,, ever: :; - r';‘f Ihere is considerable food for specu-| “When that Levy chap comes,” said |a piece of lead pipe or something like | “You can put a bet on that!” ex-[to overwhelm Levy for & moment.|I explained to him that in this coun- |1oPe you do mot get into trouble on|yaye here until you et ._: o‘ : k- wtaion in this field of thougit, but it | Casey. “I'll be asking ve to let us g0 | that,” replied Casey promptly. claimed Casey fervently | He pressea his handkerchief to his|try we only fight duels with our flsts. |account of it. But it was all Your |ing with him DRt e RaRIE es not affect the high cost of liv-|in there. I want to talk to him pri- Levy nodded and, for a moment, a “Well, now, look here,” said Levy, |eyes. Isn't that right?" fault for dancing with that blonde| «what's his number? asked Cas vate.” And Kobliner nodded again.|far-away, reminiscent look crept inte [leaning forward and laying his hand ‘Could vou lick an orphan " he| Casey nodded in approbation. girl. I guess [ must have 10ost my |geating himself at the table Ritzoff & Salmoviteh. dealers in|Kobliner's economy of speech was|pis eyes. on the Irishman asked. “So he agreed to meet me any day |temper or I would not have said such| ypevy consulted s memoranum nd-hand furniture and bedding, |quite scientific. ‘hats right” he murmured. “It|you and I have so many (hings in| *I could.” said Casey. “Go on with|I named if I brought along a second |disagreeable things to you Auyway, |pook hired Aloysius Casey to drive| A week passed. during which I was|ywas 4 piece of lead pipe” Then he [common, what's the use of you being | the story.” to ses that it was a fair fight. Now, |I'm glad you soaked that Irishman | “It's 16833 Madison Square™ ha truck. Casey was a born| folded his arms, leaned back in his|angry and wanting to lick me?" “Well, sir, one day—thls was years |before you lick me, do yoy mind com- |for butting in. It was nons of hisigaqd, “It's an l-plrtmen[ house. Just er. He stood six feet two | | chair and gazed squarcly at his com- | Casey's mind was clear but primi- |afterward, when We were grown up— | ing With me to see me lick the Count |business. Please write soon. ask for the Russlan count. Sav nches high in an uncertain light, | panion. tive. He found himself liking this|we got a cablegram from Mrs. |Dimitri?” “Your loving Levy's on the phone.” i V‘l‘:‘;x‘:l 4 .”\x\ s r\\‘;.‘lf‘;.rm‘n aeituct Nitehky.” = 2 Casey licked his lips. The prospect “BECKY.” Cagey called the number. For a Liaik Andin bionsen areatica ) e B S e e e A One night he worked late and, on " to the end of the letter that some|fro behind him. And then— . o . on triend of mine. And she telegraphed [even an ex-Russian nobleman was Ca: not swear that it was his way home through Delancey / th - misgiving prompted Levy to get up O s o 3 / at all her property—the young lady (a grand temptation. a o B wnd giance over tne |the same plece of lead pipe. He onl raet he saw bright lights in the |18 her only heir—was under the con-| “How do T know ye're telling the |from his Setr Su & o tone | thinks so. He knows, however, tha pper dows of the Golden Star |trol of this Count Dimitri. Then I|truth?" he asked. reader’s shoulder. Thé next instaft | anded unerringly on the sams um. ma_neard the strains ”«\-x' saw everything. Do you get the R "hr:_v’“'" wasH@natched oo Shls spot. When he recovered consclous ‘ nus jeing in the mood e w 3 » 2 4 T Gtk e ST [ieainteign . EVY gazed at him reproachfully.| “That ain't the letter T meant to|ness he found Kobliner fanning him B {7 “I dom't see what that had to do|[®V7 Lo = “Where did Levy go”" he cried Kened, bu ad of the first with you,” said Casey. I've got in my pocket a letter [show you,” eaid Levy, without the e Y [ e ot Sl a L ose th e bt T havent come to that|Of recommendation from my boss” | slightest change of expression. “I| -Out’ ssid Kobliner £ siickering yellow rays upon the land- vet axoTainedl Tiey “I explained | he said. “Ilost my job again vester-|intended to show you that later when t was about & week ixter when ng. Within the % 6f this Allamis v a day—on account of Count®Dimitri,|T told you about that fellow O'Brien.|met Casey again. Me Was coming & . 1o you why this Russian nobleman | O ime Dennis O'Brien » | out of & synagogue on Allen street ation stood @ voung man—he might o veeuting me. Now, I'm try-|I'm S0Ing to show you that letter so Do you kuow im—Dennis O'Brien ot Rpoate = el ave been anywhere hetween twenty B e ihom you why hie was hound. | that You can ass what my bossisaya| I donit’ said Casey slowly, “but Telior sald. LA nd thirty-five—holding a irl tightly o ohe vouys lady. You gee, he|about my truthfulness® [rm thinking vou're an awtul liar» |Praverst” AR N e S R e to oot Eontrol of her property | With his eyes on Casey's, Levy took | +Xou do, h exclaimed Levy dra- | “T'm 100king for Levs.” he said & e s Hints Geath. When she|® letter from his pocket and handed |matically. “Now, you just sit down |PI¥. You're « brute!” Casey heard it to the Irishman, who proceeded to|at that telephone and cail up Count Copyright. All rights reserred. her exclaim Now ere is an written law | = ho: origin extends far buck into the mists of Irish history that nobody | and broad-shouldered | ever hear a @ brute < BY RENE BIZET thought he man aside ted from the French by William L. McPherson I certainly am entitled to drink to her health.” He said all this very naturally, as As calmly as before the unknow answered “1 @id.” SR - i HY am T stranded here|; - fog 2 > e s The girl did not reply, or. i° she did 16¢ A iz Ba were paking some matterotfl Borreos came forward. his eves rol easey A very hard | d ry . e fact explanation. ing and his fists clenched d to weigh 98 old rowboat on the| ..y yigny Borreos replied; “all you tell me what vou mear toiwelgty a8¢ | sand? You want o . o o i = know; (dojyout) ICLbagatt drink =4 * k¥ % | I am calling my dog. who is ove uscious- coffee house, in Attorney street so high? He's which icated tleman | ing for him.” said d. ther no one else Casey cerves n g \\ \‘\"‘u il much as I have 1 wouldn't tell you. |And I wouldn't tell you now if you | were some one else. Because 1 have| to be very prudent, even here.” | The cafe proprietor, Borreos, fat |and puffy, was sitting opposite me. |spreading his arms out on & table sloppy with spfotches of one of the | | his shop door and then dropped into | the chair there, his eyes wandering | and empty with drunkenness and his | The surroundings were appropriate | for melodramatic coufidences— | | wooden tables, stools, a monumental {the yellow light of the three gas| k to his organ grind- ing and the players resumed their games. My neighbor continued to drink, keeping his eyes on the dog, who at first lay at her master's feet and later moved about from B went vac presentiment of some strange event which I couldn’'t foresee clearly, but | which was suggested to me by the and by this strange mixture of music alcohol and smoke—a mixture which | ber arose again there near you. Don't you see he There she ie. Come here, Louis— He hadn't time to finish the word Borreos was upon the beast. With kick he sent her rolling to the e of the room. The dog lay there whir He looked very glum. * he said. “but d've hap- A e O e |table to table. beging for sugar. | T a chap by the name of : 4 How much time did I spend thus? | b : bled about closing the shfitters of | ot B e but an ob —get out 2 i eprans tuete an ObSCUTE | The man mgde no protest. He thre |2 piece of money on the table, shruz ged his shoulders and whistied to * been feet | 5 : | . tongue wagging—wagging inces- dogs. Then he disappeared -~y ! had never santls T { atmeaphere of &hs room, by ail thess| Nobody made & move or raisea : |men, under the influence of drink.|yeice. Borreos, shivering, stared inis vacancy. From outside a whispe came, like a breath upon the silence ’ told n ad hap % i I e [ street organ, the bare walls, the low (#IWays has a tormenting effect on| “Louison! Louison:” ceiling, the cloul .of ill-smelling |me. Borreos kept on working the | * % * ¥ come te. said—it smoke which flouted over our heads, |organ. Suddenly my unknown neigh- | THE next morning as 1 left m louse I met a frequenter of tr+ purpose e his Brogue he So B goes | jets, the half of a window left open.| “Louison! Louison'” cafe, who asked me, mysteriousl: ‘y'l!'“" i Sudiwetties {through which we could see, in the | The organ stopped. Everybody turn-| “Have you heard the new L .l:;u“ : - y\;ltwa !clenrnefls of the night, the Tagus and |ed around and looked. Borreos rush- No,” 1 replied Fen S the dull silhouette of the cathedral. ed from behind the machine and “They found Borreos dead under b= wnd I'm looking for the man that | 2 Dareees geniticd | shouted: counter. He was strangled.” s “It is six vears, you understand— | -\Who spoke that name?” done it when I told him about t, he says, ‘That must be Levy.' says e I seen him talking with a girl | ust a few minutes ago as I come up-Yy | ALLERS six vears since I came to this city of mud. 1 didn’t come because I liked it here. I had to make a living. I haven't often as good customers as you. But business holds out. all the | i AROUND THE CITY <tairs. Did he hit ye with a piece of | hie o inerdabonis’ T suess atel golng to sea. I used to be a sailor. . Levy right” he says, ‘because he | = = [But wait—I baven't finished my By Nannie Lancaster- vorks for a plumber and he always | RD HER EXCLAIM, Elats . carries a piece of lead pipe in his | He swallowed higavine with a gulp. O every man his own point|l€r meanness. and it would have hur pocker” But he can't tell me where |compelled to forsake my East Side| “So vou're the chap, are vou " he young man and regretting the neces- | grew up he found that he could do * x % % | of view. An oldish gentle-|bher father. She was going early v e lives. only he says if [ hang haunts. During that time the autumn |asked. “Honestly, 1 would mney <ity of thrashing him, but he had |nothing with her because she was in |« QIX vears ago the Louison of | man was sitting on his front | decorate the forlorn little grave be rund I'm sure to see him |had come to an end and a heavy|have recognized you. But, instead uf looked for him all these days for noflove with me. XNo matter how much S Rochelle, of which I was cap- | steps, reading a paper in the|fore the memorial exercises begu: v He says Leves new |snowstorm had ushered in winter.|licking the life out of me, why don't | other purpese than to thrash him|he hounded her he could never gettain, was wrecked on the coast Pt | cool of the marning. A neighbor man| “Of course, 1 went. The road was parte and Kind of myste- | During that time, alse many people you ask me why [did it? There's no|and. therefore. he must be thrashed.|her to sign the papers. She was| Galicia, near Cape Torlana. You | was digging around his roses in the |alive with cars, and imes of men & |were born and many died, and many |vse fighting a fellow unless you rhe possession of a single-track [always true to me.” know where that is, dom't you?|adjoining slice of lawn. The oldish | women were carrying baskets and he next two weeks hardly |people made good resolutions while | what you're fighting for. is there?”|mind such as his simplifies so charm- | he must be a fine girl” said|Three small boats put off from the Sentieman came across something 50 | bags and armlosds of flowers througi a day passed that 1 did not come | many broke them. And dur- | ¢ Gespite his stubbornness. pos- | ingly the complex problems of life. |Casey, greatly Impressed. Levy 1ald {wreck. In mine were Golday, an | émusing that he called out to the|ine black iron gates. My friend u across Cusey In some part of the|ing that week Casey met Levy. essed a sense of logle and justice. “Ye're right about them noblemen,” |his hand upon the Irishman’s shoul- | Englishman; Gabourne, another Eng- |OthEF bati {0 leakh oasiink dduncl mnd stae Ghetto looking for Levy. He told me| “T'm sitting right in that chair over | “That's true.” He said. “and 1.d he said. “and 1 ain't saying that T|der. I aa3 Stiadford. & Dane. Three| -Guod Dews! | The next world ifilbausm ohi b street, Bistied b ! wet! Conan Doyle says they &et allle, per's grave to find it bare of deco street from there,” Is the way Casey’s account of |mind liste What did you soak don't like but if ye don't prove ou've said it!” he exclaimed. able-bodied seamen, you know. They | the wine they want there—spirits of he had patrolled every Grand to Houston and from the Bow- | it began, “when he comes into the me for?”" that it was all my fault ye're going She’s the finest girl that ever L u i 3 s | _ | 2 > e welghed the boat down. It was night. B ration. The night wind had blow ery to the East river. place. T spots him right away and I| “What did you push me for?” asked |to put up yvour fists and fight.” breathed. Now what do you think |mne boat began to leak. It was my | Wine. I reckon, huh, huk B e u‘fm‘. D l:,‘i“ “But I guess,” he remarked, philo- |gets up and takes him by the arm.|Levy. “Tell me that first” * Kk % % this dirty dog of a nobleman did|)ire or theirs, wasn't it? If they The idealism that mlkes‘l man‘ 10\: alongaide ~ Gt | “I heard the 1 say you was a , ! next?" i were all certain to sink.|Toses puts him in sentiment-toucl ong 3 | brute,” said Casey. “That's enough | ¢¢JU as you say.” sald Levy| “They're capable of anything” said :"”:‘“w:nd":zmd T walted until| With every sort of stuff that dreams We daid the Sfloral ontiaws omn ths for me. You was probably insulting | amiabl ‘As long as 1 have|Casey. o ,’l 1 asl 1k 1 And then, | &re made ©of, so the neighbor came to | father's grave and let the gorgeous | her. | nothing to hide and feel that the . e e | the fence line with a mild protest: |display of garden and hothous: Levy nodded slowly, as if the|right is on my side I'd just as llef Al g A ’w;""‘l'l‘l";‘;"'!; e e with ges. | “If he said that he must have some | fowers stay where they were. & events of that evening were coming |tell You the whole story, if you insist | ((\\’ELL. sir, hie proposed to the e e s i threc 4x_|founasuion forithe statement 1 heard | sald she believed her father would 3 P want It that way. back to him. “That shows make a mistake, how a fellow can «jen it. Only remember that I'm tell- ing you these things in confidenc and if yo utell them to anyone it'll girl. ally asked her to become the Countess Dimitri if she would only sign the papers. But the hausted companions and thrown them | overboard. | “It was hard. But I had to do it. him lecture and he certalnly sounded | convincing. I can’t say I follow his faith, but he gives you something to think about.” “It was only the night wind thut shifted the blossoms, of course, but | you wil lhave thoughts.” HAVE ANY FRIENDS 1IN HE WAS A RUSSIA THOSE DAYS, BUT OBLEMAN." T HAD ONE sophfcally. “when I'm on one street he’s on another.” * k% % JJE waited for Levy, outside the synagogue and on street corners. He ked for him in stor and of pedestrians. (. was not exactly a methodical search, but it was per- sistent and showed great lasting anualities. He finally decided that Kobliner's coffeé-house was the most jikely spot in which to find his prey. He had arrived there several times only to learn that Levy had dropped in an hour before. Levy, however, never left word where he was going. Kobliner knew him by sight; but as Kobliner was tacitufn and Levy, ac- cording to his description, talked too much, they had never reached thel conversation stage. During this time Casey told me the story of that first encounter over and Al He never made any ‘Is it Levy, the plumber? I says to him. ‘Assistant plumber,’ he says to me. ‘Then I'll be troubling you to step into the back room,’ says I, ‘be- cause I want to talk private to you.' ‘Then he smiles—and he's a nice-look- ing chap, too—and he says, ‘Suppose we have a drink first?” But I shakes my head and leads him into the back room. It took many tellings of the story to get it straight in my mind, and now, rather than let Casey tell it, it would perhaps be better to unify his various accounts of it, as a scientist takes the disjointed fragments of a prehistoric skeleton and pieces them together into a convincing figure. Casey led his victim into the rear room and shut the door. Then he took off his hat and his coat and said: “Ye'd better get ready, because I'm golng to lick the life dut of ye!” Instead of getting ready, however, vou that instead of insulting the lady T was trying to help her? Supposing T convince you that T was trying to do something to help that lady against her own will and that you | would have his revenge on me. When |1 was fourteen years old 1 came over to this country and Count Dimitri fol- lowed me. Levy, with a sudden start. paused spoiled everything by coming along |in his narrative and looked at his |and taking her part and that now |watch. {she's in terrible trouble all on your | “Excuse me one moment.” he said. |account? Would you still want to |and, reaching for the telephone, called lick m la number. Casey began to scratch his head.| «Iyye ever play the races?’ he | Here was a question that strained his | asked. | judicial mind. He felt aggrieved and | vet he wanted to be fai Casey shook his head “I just happened to think,” explain- | “Yere saving it's my fault that|edq Levy, “that there's a horse run- he's in trouble,” he said slowly.|ning today by the name of Count | “Wel, ve'll have'to prove it | Dimitri. 1f vou like I'll put $5 on “Oh, that's easy,” said Levy, care-|him for vou." {lessly waving his hand. “But that | isn't what T asked for. What I want |to know is this: If T prove to you that by your pushing into me you | spoiled everything and that's the rea- son the lady is having such a hard time right now, do you still want to lick me?” Casey surveyed the slight, harm- less-looking figure before him and shook his head. “I don’t think so” he answered. “But prove it. And don’t lie.” Levy looked at “'~ so reproach- tully that Casey instantly regretted his harshness. “Lie?” he repeated. “Say, I'll tell vou what I'll do. If you happen to have a Jewish Bible about you Tl swear on it that every word I tell vou Is the truth.” It was in quite an apologetic tone that Casey regretted that he did not have a Jewish Bible with him. “Well, now,” saf@ Levy, “T'll tell you the whole story and you'll see right away who's to blame. born in Russia. years old T was left an orphan. Were you ever left an orphan?” Casey shook his head. and mother are both alive, be!” he said simply. ‘Ah, my friend, you do not know. you cannot realize what a terrible thing it is to be left an orphan. Just think! v old T had to shift for myself. went hungry. give me food or clothes. 1 thought 1 would die. a massacre going on. Russia ™ ed Casey. “Well, /str,” Levy weat on, ‘“by I was When I was three “Me father thanks Until 1 was fourteen years 1 often There Was no one to Many times 1 often slept in the fields, particularly iIf there was 1 suppose you've heard of those massacres in “Something to that effect,” remark- But Casey was not to be side- tracked so easily. “Get through with vour telephoning and go on with the story,” he said. “Hello! Is this you, Moe?” said Levy, when he had obtained his con- nection. “This is Levy. Put five on Dimitri for place, will you? Thanks.” “That was qiite a coincidence,” he went on, hanging up the, receiver. “Wel, as I was saying, Count Dimitri followed me to this country and made my life a burden. Every time I got a job he had me fired. Of course, I was only a little boy then and didn't have the political pull which I have today. You know, all the big pol ticlans in town are friends of mine. “Keep to the story,” said Casey sen- tentiously. “Don’t get angry with me” said Levy soothingly. “I know just how ‘qu feel. You think I did something wrong to you, and just becafise you're a great big, good-looking, strapping fellow, and I'm only half your size, vou think you ought to lick me. Well, I ain't saying you're Wwrong. All I ask is that you keep your tem- per until T've finished my story. I've got so much to tell—you haven't any no wonder I wander away from the Poing every now and then. Well, now, | let's see—where was ¥?” “That Rooshian count was getting ve fired from yer job,” said Casey. “That's right. a little girl whose name—say, you'lll excuse me if I don’t mention a lady’s name, won't you " “Sure,” said Casey gallantly. ‘We played to- ng. We grew up together. gethed . when we were ¥ cried together when her ‘mother, I understand, didn't dle. FINaE idea what I've been through—that it's “Well, that little girl and I just Well, one day I met | | 3 ther and mother ~dlied. TYour father nd now,” continued Le “And do you mean to tell me you've got-the heart to lick a man who's in love, when you know what that yourself ™ “I do,” said Casey, rising. *I heard her say you was a brute and ye haven't explained it. I'm thinking ye'd better stand up and fight.” “Please sit down and let me finish.” said Levy, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. The dogggd per- sistency of Casey in clingingvto his one idea was making him nervous. “Even Count Dimitri” Levy went on, “bad as he s, always lets me finish when T'm telling him some- thing. And vou surely wouldn't let a common nobleman get ahead.of you in politeness, would you “I would not,” said Casev. seating himself again. “But ye'll mind that the girl said you was a brute and ye'll have to explain it.” B ‘That's just what I'm going to do,” sald Levy. “Now, when the girl came to me and said that Count Dimitrl wanted to marry her, what did I do? 1 said to myself, ‘Lev: I said, ‘the girls loves you and you love her. But what can you do for her? You're only a poor plumber's assistant and it's all you can do to support your- self. The girl is young and good looking and needs expensive clothes. They all do.! Haven't you noticed that yourself?” “I have,” sald Casey, nodding com- prehensively. “So I said to myself, ‘Levy,’ I sald, ‘why be selfish about it Count Dimitri is not a bad-looking chap and he has more money than he can Why not let the girl marry It's better for one to he un- happy than two. Of course, she won't like it at first, but after a while she'll get used to it. Girls always do. And then, some day, when she's the mother of a lot of little counts and countesses, she will thank you for making this great sacrifice for her’ You see? So I advised her to marry the count.” “You did?” asked Casey. “I did,” said Leyy with a grand air. “Then I'm thinking ye'd better stand up and take your licking,” said Casey. “Because a fellow that'd play such a dirty trick on a girl is a dirty lcafer. The girl was telling the truth when she said ye was a brut It suddenly became apparent to Levy that men’s standards of ethics mAY vary. “Walt” he cried quickly- g to marry ‘.‘:4 sl now coming to the main point. She} 3 she | She you? Well, have another glass.” He drank off his wine. As for me, I said nothing. A word from me would have exasperated him. He was pale and nervous. He clenched his fists; his eyes were fixed. He got up But he was too drunk to keep his balance. He was scarcely on his feet when he fell tp the floor, as stiff as a manikin, and lay there groaning. | T confess that I had no pity for him. It was late. What did it matter if| this miserable creature died thcrc‘.’: I opened the door and stepped out into the quiet night. Salamanca lay leeping in the soft shadows, and T felt happy to be alive, as if 1 hac come out of some bloody dream. E ATURDAY, three days later, was S market day. All of Old Castile flocked to the clty, which the autumn rains had transformed into a yellow- ish lake. The houses had taken on the dirty gold color of the earth. The cathedral itself seemed a huge block of mud. One splashed along in the mire, among bespattered pecple, with faces as somber and gloomy as the colorless sky. Where could I go to spend the evening? To Borreos™ There, at least, men drank, played games and talked. There I would find a little life. The proprietor was at his counter, solid and jovial. He shook my hand as it nothing had passed between us. “Here you are! What can I do for you?” 1 installed myselt In a corner. Most of the patrons were playing dominoes, half obscured by the smoke of their heavy, acrid Spanish clgar- ettes. New guests arrived constantly. A tall fellow, with red hair, sat down near me and -ordered a glass of malaga. He had & dog with him. He didn’t speak to me. But he seemed singularly excited when the big street organ, worked by Borreos, began to grind out danee music. First there was a waltz, then a slow, melancholy dance, and then a music hall air. In the midst of the last piece the tall fellow arose, his glass in his hand. Addressing’ the company, he said in a loud voice: “I drink to Louison.” The organ stopped short. Borreos advanced to the middle of the room. “Who spoke of Loutson?’ he cried. “I gid.". the man snswered. *“What did you mean by that?* “Nothing, It is my wife's aame. two, and each got back to his occu- | pation. That was all there was to it except that you naturally can't help wondering this thing: 1f the Doyle doctrine be right, will the reformers start in to blue-law heaven? \ HEN you hitch your wagon of every day materialism to a star of sentiment you will notice that the money that makes the mare go is equally necessary to the financing of your excursions to the asterial blue. “My wife and 1 have fifteen graves to decorate—hers and mine. It is a sacred and beautiful custom that makes a man all the better for its observance, but it can't be done for & cent under $56—and as my pay en- velope is at low tide and I don't want to draw on my savings account, lend me a ‘V-spot,’ will you?” He got it, of course, because a re- liable nan can always borrow, and doubtless his fifteen graves, counting in the ones that belong to his wife, are drifted over with blossoms and spiked with tiny flags, but: Suppose he had not been of the prosperous sort who can command a loan? The suggestion sort of gives a com- fortable idea that many of the friend- less graves we were sorry for on Me- morial day owed their neglect to lack of money: not love. And that if we could have looked upon them with the eyes of faith, we would have seen upon each sleeper’s hillock the spirit- ual blossoms of remembrance and prayer. ‘Which shows how blind we are, all of us. * ok ok x * kX % SHE was telling this to another woman. “One time a friend asked me to go with her to decorats her father's grave. By the time we were through, it was so covered with wreaths and bouquets that I suggested we lay a blossom or two on a bare lit- tle mound that lay almost along- side. She said she believed in letting people attend to their own dead—and it sounded so ungracious and so unlike ber father, who had been a kindly, Lelpful man, that I walked away and stood at the gate until she was ready to leave. ’ “Before breakfast next morning, she phoned to know if T would go back to the oemétery with her; that she had beem upabie)to sleep because of T P YA /. “That show sey deter- | make a lot more trouble.” spurned him. g ) < 5 i that you're going to get up| “Ye can trust me said Casey. }gcla:lfulr: e ass T en f;, ‘f!,em’" hm:y ?r I,',,::T,:,o:' “Oh, that's all right—not attacking | * ok X % | 2 i “Well, sir,” Levy went on. “this| ~They sure are” assented Casey.|pverythi L iin] s | miyimane bRAT jyonhoons EC Tm | ERE is & little dab of s £ % % % nobleman—Count Dimitri was his Toatiedl foraard confaentaly. | s ‘;‘ eitn ot i ome | thinking a lot of old soaks would ve| H{ S e o, Bie name-was always Decsecuting me. 1| “iave you ever been! i dove © Dl a) was ¥ who el & L0 887: | srepping off I they could feel guar- | about Music week: A group of ¢RUT wait a minute,” protested |ihink ne was jealous of my father be- | asked. Casey nodded. no—ltimas 1 whp hes. o mone: lanteed that the next place is @ wetier {ambitious young amateurs hud SiitnesliE T pioved ol coa T s Boan 350 Bo fwera el Gmiii 1 e it thls an| YW knoEs S SR o0 how managed to wheedle a very mes g S the Louison is in Salamanca ExcePt| " .. pandjed 2 friendly word or |and awfully ignorant old man | financing a musie show which was ! [be their tribute to the week's v gram. He had worked his own wa | from peddier to plute, whici ]zrenll,\' to his credit, of cou {he buried his dollars as rele | as some day his heirs will bury % | Every road has its turning | when the youngsters found the Wi | to his purse strings—don't a | because it is a mystery at t |of the line—the old man felt calicd lon to attend all reliearsals to ¢ | proceedings by right of his mo: land as a patron of art. The p stood for his meddling for the of results, but you know about last straw. “Say, you, what is that man Wi the horn sitting there idle for: 1 not paying anybody to loaf on Job.” The director explained that score called for the cornet to be s for seven bars. “I don't care what the score ci for. I'm running this show, and i you think I'm going to pay out good money for a man to hold a L on his knees you are mistake end the thing first.” But he didn’t. The players ended 1t for him—which is why Music Wi ex missed out on one of the best shows that never showed. by tiess The Optical Lever. THE delicate measurements ¢ manded by modern processes and machines have led to the inve of many instruments of precision tha! surprise the uninitiated by thei capablilities, which are often based vi extremely simple rules. Among thicst is a little apparatus put upon th¢ market for determining the thick: ness, or. as one might say, la thickness, of extrcmely thin pl wires and. threads. The My likens Its action to that of a ! in which a ray of light takes th¢ place of the beam. Essentially the apparatus o of two carefully ground plates in « tact with each other, the upper vié being attached to & movable arm ‘When an object is piaced between 0t edges of the plates the upper plate displaced a little in level and tht cffect of this displacement is masn' fled by a reflected ray of light which falls upon a graduated scale. Thut the most delicate measurements of thickness are easily and quichld wade. e "