Evening Star Newspaper, August 17, 1924, Page 62

“ Mo THE SUNDAY STAR BY GRACE SARTWELL MASON WASHINGTON, D. C. Presenting a Series.of Singular Coincidences in the Experience of a Young Engaged Couple. USAN hung up the telephone re- ceiver with perfect self-control, but ther® was blue lightning in her eyes. “This is the third time in two weeks he's broken an engagement with me on account of business . . . . thaCs all right, of .. but where do 1 come And he was so cheerful about it, too . . . . Susan! Is it pos- sible you are getting . stale? Walking over to the long m between the two windows, she garded herself closely. “There is nothing the matter with me. to look at’ she said. peering wistfully. “But there's something wrong. somewhere. Almost three years! A long time to be semi-en- gaged to a man.” e turned around . and looked again at the room. A pretty room, very invitin, with shaded lamps a fire of little logs. Susan’s hom peaceful, so gracious that the wond was any man could ever get enough of it And yet Andrew's office un doubtedly looked better to him, Slowly she changed from the new dinner frock to a simple dark silk: deftly she made herself an omel and a pot of Chocoly For busine Wwomen must eat Susan ate. Nhe love with ror re- | | she in by She thought things had been most awtully Andrew Towne at the ginning. But stop! “Had heen? was still. Yes. indeed. indeed But Andrew was so deadly sure of her. stared out as head and mpeti- leaned back her up at the ceiling. tion.” she thought drear: said to be the life of trade. Susan, there : isn't . any compet- ton.” Andrew had said over the telephone that if he could get through his busi- | ness dinner carly enough he might drop around. H she cleared away the remains of her makeshift dinner. came back inte her sitting room and looked about her. “I am she thought age. Old enough to make wife and not too old to be « And oh! the lovely things [ do with a home of my own « ok % “A mice a clever arming. | could | | ND then moment came into the room. a zhostly ence, conjured up to meet her need A smile sprang to her lips that was the very essence of mischief. Swiftly 8he crossed the room, sat down at her writing tabie, took up a pen. “Dear €1 she wrote Clarence-—what was the rest of it? ah. Joslyn To be larence Joslyn “Dear Clare When your letter came the other day it was stuck into my letter box with the writing on the inside. And vet the instant I saw it had that tingly sort of feel- Ing you gt om a smappy Autumn morning when there s sunshine throvzh a blue haze d you want to ycance, and you think: “Just around the next corner, something nice is going to hay n You know that feeling? You and 1 talked about it one time You are the only man 1 ever knew with enough imagina- | tion to understand that kind of fool- i8hness. .. . " Susan’s pen stopped, then her head smilingly on one Wwrote some mor “I wonder if you have changed much. 1 hope mot. If 1 find that success and fame have made you pom- pous I shall just have to smooth one of my nicest memories into a littl grave and put a headstone over it And on it I shall write: ‘T knew him when he was a dear” For you were, vou know. I don't believe there are many such as you in this drab-col- ored world, Clarence. I always had | feeling that there was an un-{ known force in you that might break | out any day and astonish us all. And | | { | | it in this s “Dear was, itive that 3 Clarence Clar- he put . and there was. and it hi 1 have fol- lowed your career and admired and held my breath. But now that I am to see vou again, I am afraid 1 shal! find you changed.” I don't to be changed, Clarence. . . . At this point the doorbell sounded, Susan punched the button that would | admit o visitor. ust as An- drew’s step sounded outside her door, Dear Clarence disappeared between the rages of the Atlantic Monthly. And Susan’'s face, as she greeted Andrew Tow and bright; she was thinking s for- gotten he ever broke a r en- gagement with me."” “Mind if I smoke, Sue? Woof! That's good Fellow gets ‘vsfu!ly: fagged dining with a man like M Kim. when you know every word counts. Play something, won't you. old dear? What was it you used to play that always helped me to think? Bach? That's the boy! No tune to worry you, just notes. Ah-h-h! This is the Tife!” usan played Bach and Grieg soft- absent-mindedly. Then Andy told her xome more about McKim. At 10:40 he rose decisi “Must beat it, to work earl You're a dea “Do you Andrew turned away with a half sigh. Her eyes fell on the writing table and the “Atlantic Monthly.” A deep light came into her But she sat on the piano bench and played a bit of “Tristan and Isolde” care- lessly with one hand as she asked: 'Want something to read going up tn_the bus, And, “What you got? want you dinn usan tomorrow ie; so comfy. Got to get morning. Sh. Finished with this -yes were on the music before Uh-huh,” she murmured ab- “Take it along.” * * x ¥ HUS it happened that Clarence went out the door under An- drew's arm. Susan gave a little skip of malice and happines “Dear Clarence!” she whispered. Then she took a book and went to bed and sat reading. In less than one hour came the sharp rins of the tel- ephone bell. “Hello? Oh, Andy! No, you didn't wake me—What? You found a let- ter? What letter?—Oh-h-h! that!” A silence. Then Susan’s voice turn- ed rather cold: “And did you, read it, Andrew?” Andrew's tone was jocular: “Read it? I could hardly help it, could 1?7 The thing tumbled out all over the place. I had to find out if it was something I ought to take right back to you. ‘Course I read it. I say, Susie, who is the precious guy “Really, Andrew!” Susan’s volce continued slightly iced. “He's a rather remarkable man.” “So 1 _gathered from your fervid style. Known him long?"” “Didn’t you also gather that from my style?’ “Well..vou never told me anything about him.” “Lots of things I never told you anything about, Andy. ~How dull you'd find me if there weren't}’ Umph! 1 must say I don't under- stand you tonight, Susan. Your voice sounds as if you're laughing. Are you?” “Yours sounds as if you're scowling. Are you?" “Oh, well, if repartee s all vou're handing out, I'll ring off. Just thought it would only be decent to find out what you want done with this Clarence 1T had telephoned you.” | gazed letter. Shall I mail it, or do you want it sent down by special messenger to- ~ night?” 2 “Good gracious, mo! Of course, would like Clarence to get it before he leaves for the Fast. 1 have my new address. Andrew snorted. *I should say that if the poor fish has got along for three years without your address, a few days more won't wreck his life.’ “Oh! That will do, Andrew!” ¢ night Susan_click, leaned back with laughter. dear Clarence!” sighed Susan 1 glad I thought of you. | wonder what color your eyes are?’ Susan dropped asleep. But the person she thought of when awakened in the morning was ence. “He's going to be a perfect dear,” she exulted. “You'll have to watch your step, old Andy!" That very day want him to od d on receiver.. She pillow, *shaking up the her first she Clar- old Andy telephoned Susan and asked her to dine with him that evening. Susan thanked him prettily and ac- cepted. When Andrew appearad he brought flowers. It was not until they dessert that Clarence member of the party i that letter back all rlght?” in- quired Andrew. “Mailed it as soon as had reached became a third thanks, | am sorry you had to fidgeted with an ash tray. I hope Clarence gets it in he brought out finally, with a tinge of patronaze “Oh! 1 hope so, too” returned Susan. 1 want so much to see him as oon as he gets her “I suppose the guy’s in love with you.” Andrew was openly sulky now. Susan's eyes became veiled. They bevond Andrew into mysterious vistas. Then they lowered themselves to peer into the depths of her cup of black coffee “I don't know," she breathed softly. “T—don't We have a number of ver memories in common * + * he says he has never for- zotten and never will. Does that mean he's in love with me? 1 don’t know.” “Humph! When do these happy memories date from?” “Oh, 1 was awfully young— I was impressionable. But. anyway, Clarence is the sort of person a girl doesn't forget. There's something | about him—a—an inner force, and| 1, with it all, # boyishness—-—" know. I read your let forgot himself and sneered. ved that your Clarence boy know happy suppose :d hef cloak But she merely rose, mathe about her. an shtily matter | home? I | LEW was rather sulky on the| ¥ home. But at the sdoor| pulled himself together. “Sorry, | called your little old Clarence a nut, | Sue. Of course, a girl has @ right to | rer own friends, now and then. 1 realize it's dull for vou when I'm| working hard.” | Thank you. Andrew,” murmured | usan meekly Susan’s flowers faded and were thrown out. Andrew became ab- sorbed again in his financial flirtation with McKim. But one afternoon late he telephoned Susan to the effect that by chance he had a free evening and could tuke her out to dinper if she liked “Oh. thank you, Andy.” she cried, “but I can’t. Clarence has come, and T'm dining with him tonight.” There was a faint grunt from tne other end of the wire. Then Andy said. politiely, “How nice! Well, how about tomorrow night—no, con- found it, i fellow to have dinner “I couldn’t anyway, Andy. I shall probably go to the opera with Clar- ence tomorrow night. You see, he's the we go discu Shall won't please. | that she should sit down somewhere | | couch opposite. been in—in Mesopotamia 8o long he wants to catch up with everything—" Then she put on rubbers and a mackintosh, and trudged lonesomely across Washington Square in the sleety dark to dine alone. “It serves me right.” she thought. “I've become a shocking liar. 1 never dreamed I had it in me. But I'd die before I'd let Andrew find out there isn't any Clarence.” Ah, but wasn't there? As she set- tled herself at a little table for two, Susan looked at the empty chair op- posite. Her lips crinkled up at the corners. “How nice you look tonight, Clar- ence,” she murmured. “I like that new scarf of yours. Did you buy it to please me? “Rather!” came back Clarence promptly. “And for another reason, too., There's a thread of blue in it that's’ just the blue of your eyes. Your eyes are lovely, did you know that, Susan?” Susan cupped her chin in her hand, and stared dreamily across the table. Oh, my dear,’ whispered, “don’t ever get too busy to say nice things like that to me. Now the human imagination is like the boomerang, a treacherous pla thing. On this lonely evening Clar- ence took a long leap toward actual life. Bit by bit, he bee all of the qualiti in a man. Then at noon one day Andrew tele- phoned her. His voice sounded dog- ged and rather peremptory. Andrew commanded her to meet him at Tif- fany's that afternoon to choose a ring —the ring! Now, at 4 o'clock that afternoon, Susan should have been flying up Fifth avenue on happy feet. Instead of which, she was crawling like a si ame endowed with Susan most liked ‘Oh, what is the matter with you," she inquired of herself. “You want to be married to Andy, don't you? You love him, don't you?" The little word love had brought her up short “Clarence!” she thought in despair. She had deliberately created, out of her imagination. an image of the man she wanted for a husband. And he was utterly unlike Andre * k% % HERE was a queer cold fright in her heart. It was imperative and quietly think. She crossed the | avenue to the Waldorf. and sank linding down upon a deep sofa that ood in a quiet corner. A woman busily writing at a desk, but Su- an did not see her. Neither did she see a man who sat reading a newspaper on a couch di- rectly facing her own. There approached their alcove a page boy who bore in his hand a note on a tray. This boy as he me- andered through the room now and then emitted a name: “Mr. Clarence Joslyn?" The name pierced through Susan's consciousness like a lightning thrust in a murky sky. It brought her half to her feet. her lips parted, her eyes met the eyes of the man on the She realized that the: boy had halted at this man's elbow, that the man’s right hand was taking the note from the tray, and his eyes had not left her face—her face that had betrayed all too vividly every emotion she had just felt. He had risen, involuntarily, as if he expected her to speak to him. With a sense of dismay that sent the bloog out of her face and turned even her lips pale, Susan whirled and walked out. Her sensation of having’ just lived through a fantastic nightmare so en- wrapped her that she gave a sharp start when she heard her name and felt a touch on her arm. She looked up wildly. She was in front of Tif- fany’s, and here was Andrew, a dark- 1y reproachful brow. She felt her very heart shrink away trom poor Andrew. “Oh, Andy!" she stammered. coming to tell you that—that I don't want you to get me a ring today—not today, please, Andy.” And why not?” he demanded, pleased and puzzled. She’ averted her face from Andrew. ‘Pleage, Andy, don’t question me now. Get a cab for me, will you, quickly? I want 10°go home. I'm not feeling very well. No, please, please, let me go alone!” She had a brief impression of An- drew's outraged face as she leaned back in the cab. “Susan, you're not even decent,” she ‘Wailed. For within her was beginning to grow an overwhelming desire to know what manner of man was the livg Mr. Clarence Joslyn. Then on SundAy morning she sat down at breakfast with the Sunday paper propped against the sugar bowl. she turned the page, then clutched at the paper and devoured it with a startled eye. “Major Clarence Joslyn home from Far Bast,” she read. And underneath: Major Joslyn, recently of the British Army, -arrived Wednesday on the ‘Ariadne’ after two years in Arabia and Persia.~ Mr. Joslyn will be remem- bered for a picturesque undertaking in which he mapped the ancient irrigation system of Babylonia from an airplane. For this purpose he was lent by the United States Government to the British Army, in which he was given the rank of major. At that time the papers were full of this exploit, both on account of its unusual character and the fact that the work was carried on under fire from the Arabian troops * * . Susan made a sound of astonishment. “That's where I got his name!" She could dimly recall now having read of the reconstruction of the lost waterways of Babylonia, and something in the account hed undoubtedly cap- tured her imagination. Eagerly she turned again to the paper. “Under the auspices of the Geogra- phical Society” she read, “Mr. Joslyn will give a series of three lectures, be ginning this week Friday evening * * ¥ *x X HAT afternoon Susan strolled into the Public Library. When she emerged therefrom she was probably the best-informed person in New York on the subject of Mr. Clarence Joslyn. But there were two facts that stood out, and they had nothing to do with his scientific honors: he was thirty-two and unmarried. susan's motive in attending Clar- first lecture was not defined even to herself. She felt that the chances were she would be so disappointed in Clarence in the flesh that she would come away cured. She had slipped into an inconspicu- ous seat, and there was just time to cast one glance about her before the chairman of the evening came out to introduce Clarence. But this one glance was enough, for in the course of it she met Andrew's eves. He was seated on the opposite side of the room, and he bowed to her solemnly. There was a heavy look of judgment about him. He was there to see for himself. Susan felt cold with dismay. Would he come to her after the lecture and expect her to introduce him to Clar- ence? Probably. Andrew didn't be- lieve in tact. Susan felt like fighting. ‘Oh, Clarence,” she prayed, “don’t disappoint me. Make me proud of you, dear, dear Clarence!” And from the moment he stepped in front of his audience she knew her prayer was to be granted. But it was when he got well into his lecture that vou knew Clarence was most decidedly somebody. Lis- tening, Susan slipped straight into a world where the horizons were wide and problems had to do with life and death, harvests and drought and floods. '\ She listened, so completely drawn out of herself that it was with a sudden shock she realized that the lecture was over. Clarence was com- ing down the platform steps. A number of persons were crowding forward to ask him questions. Out of the corner of an eye she could see Andrew moving slowly with the crowd down the side alisle. She moved into the center aisle and began to saunter toward the plat- form. She ,decided that when she reached theisecond bench from the front she wéuld turn, and if Andrew was not in sight she would flee be- fore any of the little knot around Clarence caught sight of her. But, unexpectedly, Clarence looked straight over their heads. expression on his dis- *] THE NAME PIERGED THROUGH SUSAN'S CONSCIOUSNESS LIKE, & LICHTNING “Yes, yes, you're quite right, I be- CAR LV BERTSCH THRUST IN A MURKY SKY. lieve,” she heard him say quickly. “But, If you'll excuse me now—I've some one waiting—-" And the next instant he was step- ping toward her eagerly, saying: “How do you do? Nice to see you again!" exactly as if they had had years of friendship behind them. Then, with his smiling eyes looking down at her keenly, he added in an undertone: “I say, help me to get away from them, won't you? Let's move toward the door. She found herself walking sedately down the empty aisle with Clarence beside her, and her complete bedaze- ment was evident in the fact that she had entirely forgotten Andrew. “You live at my hotel, don't you?" she heard Clarence saying. “My car's outside. I'll motor you down if you'll let me.” And she had a sense that circumstances had grown too unruly for her. They drew up undec the awning of a restaurant whose windows were a warm, pale amber. I'm famished,” said Clarence, “and so are you. And, besides, there's something I want to ask you.” soon * ok ok K Ao as the waiter had served and withdrawn himself, Clarence leaned cagerly across the table. “Look here, what 1 want to know is he said. “What happened in your mind the other day when the boy paged me in the hotel? © “Why should I tell you? tered. “Lean forward and look into that mirror,” was what he unexpectedly said. She did so, and met her own face, Togo’s (Continued from Fifth Page.) she coun- that simontaneously together without a hitch of sispenders, and no music axcept a stgong marn hitting kindling wood on a ®tandard Oil can? Make ourself some gin this evening, M Editor, and maybe vou will sec wha I saw. Then some 414 persons hanged with ropes of nevva-nevva plant or lister- ine flowers. By looking at them very thoughtful I learncd that they w ladies. Yet I could change my mind. They dance circular and straight while singing with voices: “Oh my tatoo, taboo, Silli-willi A, Silli-willi B, Silli-willi, atta-babi 0 ur “Observe the 3rd one from left e snagger Nogi without lungs. would be beautiful axcept for her lost eve. “Tell me, Mr. Sir,” T report to Hon. English benext me, “what are that music the are singing straight at me Are it a love song perhapsly “Unfortunately, no,” dictate Hon. English. “Love somfgs is illegal here because of heated climate. 1 shall tell you what they say: ““The Passengers of the Resolute Are now in port. It is a whale of a boat, Like the Waldorf-Astoria The Passengers give us cigarettes— AUGUST 17, 1924 —PART ¢ T SUSAN PLAYED SOFTLY, ABSENT MINDEDLY. transformed, as if some lamp of the &pirit newly lighted shone through it. “You see cried Clarence, “that’s what I saw the other day. One minute you were sitting there just a dim sort of girl with something troubling you, and the next you were all alight and beautiful. I could have sworn it was my name that did it. Was it?" “ve “Ah! But why?” Her eyes searched his face wist- fully. Then she msked: “Do vou believe that it is possible to create another person out of noth- ing but a scrap of memory until that person becomes more real to you than any one really alive?” His eyes smiled understandingly. “It's a gift most lonely persons have. But you know what it means, don’t you? That the right flesh-and- blood person hasn’t come along.” “Ah, but I thought he had!” “But the other day in the hotel you were not so sure. You were worrs- ing about something. Are you in love with that man?” The Eve in her stirred for one last time. She remembered that competi- tion is the life of trade. She looked into the depths.of her cup of black coffee. “I—don’t—know,” she murmured thoughtfully. “You see, he and I have some happy memories in com- mon. He expects me to marry him.” Clarence merely kept on smiling. He leaned forward and covered her hand with his. “But you're not going to,” he said. “That's old stuff, anyway. You and I are new, and—and we're falling in There’s a_girl I've imagined ears, and she's so like you, so ou—I don't even know your Susan chair. leaned softly back Her shining eves were low- ered. Her fingers crept to her hand- bag. In it was a letter. With a sigh of relief, she laid it before her com- panion. “‘Dear Clarence, " deringly. “You see, I knew yours!” she mur in her he read won- mured. (Copyright. 1924.) Adventures in the South Seas. They are pretty fair, But we wouldn't walk a mile for them. “Most of the Passengers Two of them look like X Jeff. The Resolute has three stacks, Larger than the Tmpe: fining Works has This morting our brave Crawled down one of those smoke stacks To see if he could find the Captain. This afternoon we're going to send a boy around To look for him. The Passengers of the Resolute are all rich There is an author aboard Who writes for the movies And believes everything him. " * ok ok % JAST on the program. Mr. Editor were Fire Walking Match which give + foot blisters to think about. Natives of Fiji does this b; dizging enlarged hole in ground | baking hot rocks for two (2) day the wood of the guava tree. this reception committee get ready to commence six (6) selected Fire Walk- ers step forthly with peeved expres- sion peculiar to bravery without any shoes on. Everybody yall. Then O! With quickn peculiar to rabbits crossing the Kubicon those six (6) are fat; Mutt and big smoke- al 0il you tell a WRITING OF BOOKS HER RECREATION MISS NATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN. BY EMILY STOWE. ATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN, author and editor, is one of the many writers living in the National Capital. Her detec- tive stories have been enter- taining readers for years and have made her known throughout the English-read- ing world. She has written 15 books and numerous short stories for magazines during the last 12 years. Miss Lincoln was born in Washing- ton. She is the daughter of the late Nathan Smith and Jeannie Thomas Lin- coln. She was educated at Miss Flint's private school for girls. Later she took up writing ag,a profession, and has held various positions where her talents have been put to practical use. At present she is editor of the D. A. R. Magasine, which is published at headquarters in the National Capital. She writes her stories as a diversion. She is _a member of the Colonial Dames, Daughters of the American Revolution, Mayflower Society, League of American Pen Women, Women's City Club, Afmerican History Association and Authors' League of America.. Although identified with these organi- zations, her great enjoyment is not de. rived from club activities. It is in_ the creation of new plots and the working out of the details of each story that Miss Lincoln finds her 'keen interest. Asked where she discovers the material for her stories she replied : Every day, at the most unexpected times and in the most commonplace surroundings, unusual situations present themselves. The most ordinary incident may have lurking about it some feature slightly different from almost the same incident in other circumstances and 'other surroundings. ~ Sometimes my imagination supplies the mystery which, attached to the incident, makes material for a story. “Once having fitted the characters and situations to surroundings, the story is on its way, and moves easily and natu- rally to its consistent denouement. How- ever, that is not the end. The concep- tion 'may be true to life, but the picture must be drawn correctly, and' the only way to do that is to know what the usual procedure is in certain circum- stances. “For instance, a dead body is found at the entrance to a culvert. Presum- ably it is at once removed to the morgue. But the writer must know .ex- actly what the procedure is at the hold- ing of an autopsy if he is going to de- scribe the scene. It is only in this way that the picture can be presented cor- rectly. And so, it can be seen that end- less research is necessary for the suc- cessful story teller. Writing stories is hard work, but there is an irresistible fascination about # which makes me forget its difficulties™ | lockjaw. { month. untamed gentlemen hop-skip straight across 9 yards of fried stones:' And_what you think then? Hon. Fire Walkers march away happily without Burns on the soul of their feet “How they learn to do that?" 1 ask Hon. English who was there. “It are very ancient custom,” he ex- change. “Hon. Chief or Tulu what invented it wish to find some place where his wite would not darest to foliow him.” 1 could unstand that pretty good, for 1 look around and observe some Fiji wives. Well, Mr. Editor, our next stop were Pago Pago (pronounced Pango Pango to make it more unnatural). There we find nativ Wwearing American pants which they steal from towerists. Because they are under American flag they are less polite than on other islands. They get acquainted by pinching you on elbow. Then they offer to sell you grandfather's spear for 10% because mother are dying of When you pay them 15§ so that this sad case will not suffer, they run rapidly up hill to the factory & get another one of grandfather's spears. The simpul natives of Pago Pago does not know the value of money, therefore they charge 2ce for everything without blushing. In harbor of Pago Pago they got life-size gas tank: not so Woolworth Bldg, but wider. decorations cost U. S. Nav million $ & have been there 2 yrs with 2 night watchman @ 250§ pr There are no_gas in those tanks because U. S. Govt fsels too poor to pay for such a useless arjicle. Thusly economy pays, even when the price are cansiderable high. While steaming 4th from Pago harbor I find Cousin candition of weeping. “Look at beauty of that scenario,” he wep, “valleys running over with blooming vegetables amidst moun- tain jags filled with foliage. We have observed all kinds of Paradise, yet never anything so perfectual as that. Boo & hoo “There are sifficient rain here with- out your crying all over it.” I pro nounce. “Then why those subs “This are Paradise,” he negotiate, “without any Eave! I come to So Seas on a love-hunt. Yet what I find of femaline attentions?” “There were the beau-legzed beau- ty what chassed you to boat,” I narrate. “Bernard Pshaw!" he growell “She wish to sell me her sick grand- mother's canoe paddle.” “Be strengthened, Nogi,” I dibili- tate. “Soonly we shall arrive to Ta- hiti, famus for French-speaking hab- its. In such a climate Hon. Walter 2 high as Those dept 1o Pago Nogi in Traprock was made craz Tahiti. Be clam, Nogi. In th tion you will be loved, T bat my ware.” with t loca- * %% SLL. Mr. Editor, we arrive up to Papeete, Atlantic City of in the hot sunstroke of Sunday morning. From distance of sea we could observe eral pink baloons nged on pier for our benefat closely approach we dishcov- our mistaken. They was not baloons but ladies in pink Mrs. Hub- bard gowens. They were each of them so wide across that I were sure they came in pairs. 6 or & more of similar variety come out of French store labelled “Vins Liquers et Ci- gars.” Every saloon in that very hot town begin waving its sheltering palm when they see us coming. That row of pink double-ladies commence doing same in our Gen. Direction We attempt to back up the ship. but it were too late. Nextly we knew we stood on ashore, surrounded by fatty ladies who look like the) escaped from Mr. Barnum in kaliko nightdress “Ah, mon petit Japona them Frenchily, * er avec moi? NoRn, not 1 don’t!” “Pour lamour du Michel, mon prune, avez un coeur!” she gollup “You know whb I are? T are Feathi- belle of the island.” She stand there looking church, but not so respectable. Next- 1y I knew grabb Nogi bLetween her fingers and commence the Shaku- Shuka or Courtship Dance. Mr. Editor, have you ever obsery 800 1b: of veal cutlets riding in pink ck on a cheap motor cyel This describe Miss Featha Bolsta emotion, only le All her f seem to come untied from her bones & shake itself up to her kneck and back again to where her knees should of been. 1 never a lac what uld go so many = t once Somewheres in the m of this mix- ture I could see Cousin Nogi holding onto his kneck to keep it from falling off when his knecktic did. Every mussel of that lady seem to slide with behavior peculiar to elephants skat ing on butter. Then of suddenly following happer he stop oxi drop. When nextly observed my deare cousin were splunged into & swimming to ship with expression peculiar to gentleman who are will- ing to meet several harks Hoping you are the same Yours truly. HASHIMURA (Copyright, 1 holla one oulez vous snagger Nog like = d w DRIVE AGAINST RATS HE recent drive by the Depart- ment of Agriculture in twen- seven states east-of the Mis- sissippi_River to get 'rid of the rat plague that had become menacing has brought to light a new method, discovered in Denmark, of exterminating rats and mice without the use of either traps or poison Rats had become so bad in Den- mark, and the losses from their de- structive habits, especially along the, seaport towns, were running so high that the government grew alarmed. Then, too, there was the danger of bubonic plague, which is carried only by the rats. The government financed a group of scientists to find a method of killing rats more rapidly than the rats could breed. After long and costly experiments, they succeeded in producing a virus which they named ratin. Ratin in_a bacterial culture con- taining millions of germs held in a uid solution. It is absolutely harmless to man or animals, includ- ing poultry. This liquid with its load of germs, like other poisons is put on food in places that the rats fre- quent. The results are not apparent for several days. Then the rodents become sick. As they travel about they spread the disease to other rats and these become infected and in turn infect others until whole colo- nies, young and old, are wiped out. It was found, however, after nume- rous laboratory experiments and many hundreds of trials on rat-in- fested areas, that about ten per cent of all rats were Immune to the germs and could not be infected at all. It is the same conditicrn trat prevails among human beings, for some persons are immrune to small- pox and others immune to yellow fever. Immediately plans were made to perfect the poison to include all the rats. The scientists turned to work again, and after a time were success- ful in producing a preparation that is sure death to these rats that sur- vive the.first inoculation. plementary preparation is also non- poisonous to human beings and other animals. They named this Ratinin. With these two preparations the Danish government found that all mice and rats could be exterminated anywhere and under any circum- stances. Germany, hearing of the prepara- tion, had her scientists conduct an investigations Their reports were so satisfactory that the German goverh- The sup- | ment adopted their preparatiois standard, as did Norway, Sweden 4 Finland. The fame of the remedy spread rapidly until many towns Europe were using it It is known that bubonic plague is spread by fleas from rats tRat uic infected with the dread disease. Rats also carry the germs of typhoid fui- er. infantile paralysis, vellow Jjaun- dice, measles, scarlet f and small- pox. Often rats, under the extreme pressure of hunger. will attack hu- gs. their bites resulting in known ax ratbite fever which is especially loathsome. BRI Laboratory and Gold Mine. AN eminent scientist made a happy comparison in a lecture“on the modern laboratory. Once it was eusy for the student and investizator in chemistry to hit upon new things, just as once the treasure-sceker .in the Rocky Mountains who needed no apparatus but a pan has given place to the costly installation of mining machinery, which extracts the prec- ifous metal from the bowels of the mountains; the lucky discoverer who could enrich science by keeping his eyves open while scrutch- ing the surfa been by patient delvers, who must go deen. and who can make no progress with- out the elaborate and expensive equipment of a first-class laboratory. . 2 . Unique Fireplace. OLLOWING the scheme of the dian lodge, with its fire in the center of the room,, enabling the tribesmen to sit all around it, an in- ventor has constructed: in his own residence a fireplace of a unique type. At a point wh the necting three réoms intersect, chifney ‘comes down and res base of heavy angle lin turn, supported by four steel col- umns. These rest on a reinforced conerete foundatlon. The grate. ma ¢ to a special design of three-quarte inch machine steel, sets underneaih the center of the chimney. The draft is regulated by an ingenious darper that will stay in any position. <0 simply succerdvd in- e arches con the on a which steel, s