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THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTO D. ¢, JULY CLIJ A H 3 B Valensine smitk An Entirely New Way of Handling the ORTUNE had long since ceased to smile on the last master of | Then, suddenly, of the coincident too, the Holmacres. with the advent strangers and the creation of ‘Lijah, came, visit of the angel The two strangers knew nothing of the evil days that had befallen Judge Holmstead, nor were they particularly interested, since their mission con- cerned not the fortunes, either good or ill, of others but’ the betterment of their own. What they knew con cerning the Judge and Holmacres was furnished by the aged negro, who, with his ramshackle surrey and an cient nag, eked out a precarious existence driving transients about the countryside. They had found him at the railway station in Wynnesbor ough, the county #eat, and he had driven them along the five miles of deep-rutted road that stretched from the town to Holmacres. During a lull in their conversation he half-faced about. “'Scuse me, gén’lemens,” he ob served, “I don't mean no hahm by astin’ it, but—you all is Yankees, ain’t you? % “Northerners—yes, answered Yessuh. I thought so. You don't talk like white folks—I like us's white folks, Boss.” The stranger who had answered the query—the younger and less grave-appearing of the two—smiled. We'd heard so much of your Southern hospitality that we thought we'd come down and see what it is like Hawspitalitv? Well, suhs, you ecomin » de place wheah it was in vented at—when you comes to see de Judge Then the old man bygone day and still emory of its glories ospitality of Holmacres been and as he still saw it It was the most fertile plantation in the country, and its owner, Judge Holm stead, by odds the richest man, the most-learned lawver, the noblest gentleman, and the most open handed host who ever breathed. His house was the finest that had ever Dheen built; he set the most sumptuous table in the land. Judge Holmstead to sum it up, was real “quality’’; not like some of the trash which had sprung up with the last generation Thus the strangers were prepared in 2 measure for the picture which greet ed them a few moments later. a grove of broad-topped live oaks, with the house in the near distance, a mansion of cement-walled, slate-roofed dignity with the huge-columned, two-stor veranda reaching in stately welcome across ts entire front. And as they stepped from the conveyance and came up the cape-jasmine-bordered walk, another picture was limned be fore them, a man well past threescore who had risen from his chalr. He had removed his broad-brimmed hat baring a mane of iron-gray hair, and now stood, despite the dingy (rl‘ll'l\ coat that he wore, a figure as im posing as one of his own Tonic columns, courteously expectant at the visitors’ approach The young stranger introduced his companion and himself They were from the North, and their business was that of timber-land investors. One of their agents had sent reports of hardwood acreage adjacent to the Tombigbee, and they were making a personal trip of inspection. They wished to find a place—a boarding of lodging house. Did Judge Holmsted know of such a place? *ie Wix ASTERS of Holmacres, since that first one who had erected a man sion in what was at that time a wilderness, had been famed for their hospitality. Nor had they been con tent with the thought that the neigh boring gentry on should be the re. cipients of their bounty. for that first one, a little strangely perhaps for one of cavaller forbears, had caused to be carved beneath the broad fire mante! in the central hall this in seription Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have en tertained angles unawares.” Judge Holmsted was of tha “I couldn’t thi: of letting you gentle. men stay anylhere but here.” He spoke with a soft slurring of r's and a dropping of final g's which any attempt to put into print serves onls to distort and make grotesque. “You must do me the honor of becoming my guests during vour stay The older stranger demurred. “Why . . that's awfully kind of you, fudge. But we really couldn't take advantage of your hosp— You'll be taking mo advantage at all, sir.” There was no hint of sub xervience in the way the judge said “sir.” It was the courteous form of address toward strangers which had been the custom during hi On the contrary, you'll really be do me a favor. I'm an old man, zentlemen”—his smile would have won them had theyv really been hes. itant at accepting his hospitality little Jonely at times, and T like ompany. And visitors, nowadays. are rare.” The strangers accepted the invita #Hon with suspicious readiness They hailed the anciént driver of the sur who had remained waiting in driveway nd who now brought their luggage. For just a moment Judge Holmsted =eemed ever stightly embarrassed, a slight mantled his cheeks. And then stopping to think what it mean, he created—'Lijah Be seated, gentlemen,” while T all some one your baggage.” He took ward the broad doorway "TAjah he called. There was no answer He called again, more loudly, **'Lijgh!" one of them jus’ means a the the had product of living in ~described it breed. in flush with might he invited bring in step to- a I i is | Al vouth. | and still no one answered. Frown- ing, he walked to the end of the veranda, and, peering about, shouted the name for the third time, with the same result as before. He turned apologetically to his guests. “That trifing rascal,” he ex- plained, “is never about, particularly at this season of the year, when I need him.” He glanced about for the driver of the surrey, but the old man had gone. “Come with me, gentle- men.” Taking up their luggage, he led them within the house. Though his welcome had been ex- tended in all sincerity, their coming brought a problem—another one—to the Judge. And, somehow, in his de- clining years life seemed to hold little else save problems, and all of them as yet unsolved. Time had been when Holmacres threw its doors wide open to the countryside, for its masters had lived in the traditions handed down by its founder. Even now Judge Holmsted | permitted his ghoughts to stray back to the days when servants swarmed |about the place, when there were stable boys who seemed actually to get underfoot, and house boys who fairly haunted the guests, eager to be of the slightest service. But now . , . it seemed that there remained little of misfortune that could happen. For |'of the hospitality for which Holmacres | had been famous there existed but a | shell, a shell so fragile that it might | be crushed at any moment. Pity, too, that he, the last of his race, should not maintain the heritage which was his. Had he belonged to that modern school he might still have kept him self from actual want. But a friend in financial straits had come to him, and it was a neighborly act to indorse w note for a large sum of money. It was a hideous fate, though, that caused the friend ‘to die, leaving an estate heavily encumbered, and forced the |Judge to pay the indebtedness by | mortgaging the home of his ancestors. Even before this, though, the soil | of Holmacres, planted for generations | exclusively to cotton, had been grow- ing less and less fruitful. vear by year. He had divided the | plantations into small farms for ten- ants. Then the northern exodus had | begun, and one by one the tenants | had left, until now, with the few hired | “hands” that he could secure, he was | cultivating perhaps one-tenth of his | tillable landss | "still, for a time he had not experi enced want. the circuit—while not had enabled him to |tense of "the hospitality | brought fame to Holmacres. | * % ¥ * munificent— make a that had |"HEN a new order of things came to pass. Politics were played with the precision—and the heart 1+ machine. Those in control of the political destinies of the counties com posing the circuit banded themselves | together—that all of them save Judge Holmsted. Old-fashioned jurist that he was, he refused to lend him self to what he considered certain questionable pre-election machina tions. Then the ultimatum went forth: He could submit or take the consequences—political oblivion. He accepted the gage, for he came not only of a hospitable but of a com- bative breed. Now, for the fir: time in his life, he entered upon a Vigorous campaign. He traveled about the various coun- ties of his circuit, spending, legiti- mately, of his slender means. He made countless speeches, he met hun- |dreds of friends and received— promises. He returned to the practice of law in Wynnesborough. but it seemed that his methods, like himself, had become old-fashioned. he practice of law once, when the matter came up, !an honorable profession. It was never intended that it should degenerate into a display of legal acrobatics.” Clients were few and those who came were not always of the soundest | financial standing. But there was al- ways more or less bickering and litigation between the poorer class ‘of hill-farmers, and some of these brought their troubles to Judge Holm- | kted They paid their accounts in various ways; some brought small | 1ots of cotton. others poultry and pig | while one, an aged bachelor racluse | of uncertain temper, just before his | death had willed to the judge 40 |acres of land. This, people inclined | to be humorous assorted. was in the |way of a subtle revenge, for the judge, suing for the old man, had lost | his case, and the hill forty, as it was { known, was not considered worth the | tax payments. | There had been excessively poor | crops. Years, too. when the cotton raised had not pald operating ex- penses. Twice the judge had bor- rowed money—which he still owed— |in advance on his crops. And the | present outlook, with the late Spring ! rains and cultivation sadly hampered, was now worse than ever Tiven his plainly dwindling income did not _cause him to forsake his ideals. These, he insisted, one must cling to. even though he go down with them Certain other changes, though, had forced themselves on him ses and other stock had been <old, since the plantation would not longer support them in numbers. N all that remained were a few work mules and the judge’'s own mount, Grover Cleveland Servants were dis. pensed with until all of them, save one. had gone. She stayed. Christened Alabama, she was ariously called Miz' 'Bama, ' Sis ama and 'Bama, the form of ad- dress depending on the degree of intimacy she permisted the speaker, the judge and those of her race whom she considered her equals using the last named. She had remained at Holmacres after all the others had left, though her wage was more often a mirage than a reality. Latterly, continued urging by certain of her friends that she leave Judge Holm- sted's service and go to the city, | where her skill as a cook would re! turr. her a fabulous income, always met with scornful rebuff. is, he had =aid R hmu-mfim o i NS A ,” SHE REMARKED, “DOES YOU KNOW, SU H, 'AT TRIFLIN' 'LIJAH AIN'T GOT BACK TILL YIT?" Judge | | Holmsted had seen the yield dwindle | His salary as judge of | pre- | of | | an outstanding personality | servant ? “4s | casually to his guest | { | | moned | between | He's | that “But he aint payin’ you nothin’, the tempter would insist. *‘Sposin’ he ain't?” 'Bama, hands on her ample hips, would face the speaker. “You i fergittin’ somep'm, ain’t you? What 'bout my social posi- tion?” Usually this ended the discussion, for 'Bama, born and reared in the atmosphers of Holmacres, was the recognized leader of her people in the vicinity. No wedding was com- plete without her in the role of gen- eral adviser and master of ceremonies, nor was any funeral fittingly held without her presence to lend due solemnity to the occasion. But some- times argument failed to convince those who tried to tempt her. Then ‘Bama would fall back on flat refusal. “Go 'way. nigguhs!’ she would command. “T wouldn't leave ‘is heah plantation foh—foh a hund'ed dolluhs a yeah!" So she remained steadfast at Holm- acres as general house factotum for the judge. It was 'Bama who tactfully reminded him, at those times when the larder became more depleted than usual, that supplies were needed. And it was she who, out of the merest nothing, could serve food fit for a king's banquet. It was 'Bama who attended to the laundry—carefully washing the judge's shirts to save the frayed cuffs’ as much as possible— and looked after the scanty supply of household linen. She darned Judge Holmsted's socks, saw that his shiny coat was occasionally brushed, and kept him generally from being out at elbows in the matter of clothing. * ox ox ER manifold duties had brought her to the front of the house that afterncon when the judge sum the mythical 'Lijah. For a moment she listened in open-mouthed amazement. Then understanding of a sort came to her, as she peeped the curtains and saw strangers. For some reason Judge Holmsted wanted it understood that a personage who answered—or should answer—to the name of 'Lijah be. longed about the place. And any un- dertaking that the judge set on foot was worth seeing to its conclusion. While she lacked the judge’s creative ability, she could at least embellish | that which he had made. Her first attempt was in evidence that evening when she served a supper that would have tickled the palate- of a gour mand. “Judge," she remarked, taking the privilege of an old servant, “does vou | know, suh, 'at triflin’ 'Lijah ain't got back till yit?" Judge Holmsted choked momenta rily, but he recovered his self-control instantly. “He hasn't?” he demanded, sternly. “Won't he ever learn to come in on time? Tell him that I wish to speak with him the moment he gets es suh. I knows wheah he's down to ‘at river, settin’ out catfish lines." ‘Bama had cast the die. Judge Holmsted's creation of 'Lijah had been the result of a sudden—and now in explicable—impulse; _probably, upon reflection, he would hive made no fur- ther reference to him. Bpt 'Bama had given entity to the myth: with a word or two she had made of it house who, by implication at least took whatsoever liberties he chose. And suddenly the realization came to the judge that his creation had been nothing short of inspiration With the present state:of affairs at Holmacres numberless things were sure to happen which might cause embarrassment to one who sought to fill the role of dutiful host; and the lack of a perfect hospitality. in many instances, could be blamed on erring—though mythical—Lijah. “He's one of the older servants about the place,” the judge explained ‘Does pretty much as he pleases." He followed this with laughing remark about ‘Lijah’s fondness for fishing. It was almost impossible tu keep 4 negro and a river apart when the catfish were biting “T'd like very much (o see 'Lijah. ' It was the younger stranger speaking “I've read so many stories dealing with Southern plantation life—and especially the old family servants I've often wanted to see one of them. And vour man ‘Lijab seems to be typical “Oh, he'll be about the place—off and on,” the judge Assured, carelessly. “And if you're interested in types, sir, you'll probably like 'Lijah.” Thus for the moment he dismissed ‘Lijah. But Bama apparently determined mot to let the errant one off so easily, for later, as the judge and his guests entered the high-ceil- inged living room, where portraits of | earlier Holmsteds gave greeting from their oval walnut frames, she came to the doorway “she observed meaningly s’pect you'll hahdl seegars. 1 s ‘round ‘at sec’ta’y whilse T was dustin’ | "1s mawnin’.”” Mechanically, Judge Holmsted's eyes sought the old rosewood secretary in | one corner could of the room, but before he speak the vounger stranger | broke in with: “Oh, that's all was laughing h right, judge.” s tily as he extended a cigar case. “Take one of these. So he ‘borrows’ your want to see him." Thp‘mrAni;Prfl poke of their busi ness in the vicinity. The timber which they wished to inspect lay some miles away. They supposed an auto- mobile could be obtained in Wynnes- borough Guests beneath Holmacres' roof had never been compelled to hire convey- ences. It would have been unthink- able. The judge explained that the roads were such that an automobile would be impracticable. He had never bought a car himself for this reason. | His guests must use one of the numer- ous horses about the place. ~ When one of them suggested retir- ing, Judge Holmsted, first ascertaining that 'Lijah was nowhere to be found, led them to their room. He lighted the kerosene lamp. Then, cavelessly turning back the bed covering, he stopped in sudden horror. There was only one sheet on the bed! He turned, his face crimsoning., to his guests. They had seen. “That trifling, worthless gan, and stopped. “It's course, gentlemen—as usual, helplessly. “‘Come with me." He led them to another room—his own—which for more than 40 vears no one save himself had occupied. “Just leave your shoes outside the door, gentlemen,” he said in parting. “’Lijah will polish them. g He found Bama in the kitchen. Her answer to his question about the sheets brought home to him disheart- le‘nlngl,v the scarcity of household nen. " he be- Lijah—of he said, * ok ok ok LAINLY the visit of the strangers, should it prove of some duration, meant a still further drain on the slender resources of Holmacres. Since he had promised his guests a horse, they would have to take Grover Cleve. land. All of the work mules were ly needed, but he must use one of them for his daily trips to his office. By waiting until the strangers had left every morning and remaining at his office until he was sure they had returned, they need never know of the subterfuge he had resorted to for their convenience. Another matter claimed his atten- tion—the disquieting letter which had come that morning. The interest pay- meht on the mortgage would be due the | in. | the | was | find no | ‘Lijah sof'-footin' it He | igare, does he? 1| & Servant Problem. shortly, and the letter stated brusquely that the mortgage had passed into other hands. Hereafter all payments must be met at maturity. Covet eyes, Judge Holmsted knew, had lonig looked toward Holmacres. Once or twice he had succeeded in having his payments extended, but now alien owners, people with no reverence for its traditions, would come into posses- sion of the place. The thought was bitter, unbearable. He mounted the stairs. Just out- side the door of his guests’ room he found their shoes. And that night and for succeeding nights he slept in the bed that had but one sheet. But his guests at the breakfast table next morning probably thought that his only solicitude lay in planning for their well being. . Grover Cleveland, freshly curried and rubbed till his coat shone like satin, was hitched to the buggy. The vehicle itself bore signs of recent washing. The harness, too, one would have said, had been freshly ofled. “I wonder how we're going to begin talking business to a man who treats us like members of his family,” the older stranger said as he climbed into the vehicle. “We'll have to use a lot of diplomacy." “We'll just remember,” the younger man reminded, “that we've come sev- eral hundred miles to secure a prop- erty at as favorable terms to ourselves as possible. And that business is business—always." Judge Holmsted walted only long enough to see his guests off. Then he walked to one of the fields where a negro was ploughing. “Eph,” he said, “I'll have 1o be us ing the mule for a few days.” . “But, judge, suh! 3ph stared, gaping. “Dis grass! It's plum’ ram. pant since ‘em las’ rains, suh. Can't you see it's jus’ nachelly chokin' de cotton to death?" The judge could see plainly enough. The spindling stalks of cotton were struggling weakly through mazes of Johnson and Bermuda grasses. But he saw something else, too—something that Eph, being a recent comer, could not have seen, or, seeing, could not beneath Judge Holmsted's roof. | It was the first time that he had ridden a mule since he was a boy. Often then, in a spirit of mischief, he had done so. Things had changed now. Horses, dogs, servants—gone! Everything—everything save the will to be a hospitable host At the little bank in town he was courteously but firmly refused an ad- ditional loan. The bank officials liked the judge and sympathized with him, but his previous loans were still out- standing. And it was doubtful—ex ceedingly doubtful—that his crop that year would pay the cost of raising it. But that evening, as he sat with his guests on the broad veranda Judge Holmsted was Solicitous only as to the result of their investigations Were they finding the hardwood tim ber of good quality? And was it in sufficient quantity to justify purchasing and logging it? He hoped this might be the case: he was look ing forward with a great deal of pleas. ure to welcoming them as permanent | neighbors. He proved himself to be a raconteur | of rare ability and charm. The grave- face stranger semed fascinated by his | stories as he spoke of the days when steamboats from Mobile piied the Tombigbee daily. PR "THE air was soft with the softness of Southern nights. There came to them, as they sat there, the odor of cape jasmine and the fainter but more caressing scent of honey- suckle. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the water oak now by the light of the full in a mantle of pure silver dust. The younger stranger lighted a | cigar and leaned back in hi=z chair, { sighing restfully. “Two weeks of thi=,” he sald, “and I shouldn't want to go home. You Southern planters lead an epviable life, Judge." “It's enchanting,” his companion as sented. ‘We like it, sir | | | moon some of us,” the judge admitted. He spoke with a tinge of regret of former neighbors who, one by one, had been lured away by the cities. Many fine old places | had been left to the care of tenants and had speedily gone to ruin. But | the Holmsteds, being lovers of the land, had alw. lived close to it “Maybe. we are more firmly rooted in the soil than some of the others were,” the judge said. “It seems to me, judge,” the gra faced stranger offered, “that you have a wonderful place here for a stock farm. Aren't these native grasses— I belleve you call them Johnson and Bermuda—good for grazing?" “Excellent, sir.” “That's just what I'd do with this place if T owned it,” the vounger stranger broke in. He was more out- spoken than his elderly companion. “T'd divide it into pastures with good fences, build up-to-date barns and pig houses. and stock it with blooded cat tle and hogs. You've your grasses for Spring and Summer. And I un- derstand that those river canebrakes | make fine Winter grazing.’ “1 may try something of the kind next year,” the judge admitted. “T've been thinking for some time of ven- turing along that line.” Venturing! Blooded cattle and hogs! Fences and barns, when the burning guestion was one of bare existence' Not that he had never had dreams. Many times he had pictured his broad |1ands dotted with droves of sleek cat- Ite and herds of swine with an income assured that would again crown Holm- acres with its fair name for hos- | pitality. But the realization of this |dream would require money. . . . | It was the next morning that a mocking bird, nesting in a nearby tree, awakened the serious-faced stranger with its early song. Arising, he crept softly to the window and | stood listening. And suddenly, as he looked out, he started and stared fixedly. Then a dull red flush mounted slowly to his cheeks. He withdrew from the window even more softly than he had approached it and lay jdown again without wakening his { companion. But that morning brought conster- nation to Judge Holmsted. Modern plumbing had not been installed at | Holmacres, and he remembered sud- denly that his guests must shave. And there was one item that he had overlooked. I suppose, gentlemen,”. he marked at the breakfast table, “that 'Lijah—you see I have to keep close check on him—brought you hot water?" They admitted that he had not. “He'll be the death of me yet,” the Judge said, hopelessly, “if I don't wring his neck soon. He's getting more worthless every day.” The young stranger laughed. “You're more lenient with your ser- vants, Judge, then we'd be in the North. They must attend to’their duties there or they’re discharged. “But it's different with us, sirg The Judge smiled. “Take 'Lijah, for example. Been on the place all -of his—going on 50 years. I couldn't get rid of him. If I were to discharge him he’'d refuse to stay discharged. He'd simply come sneaking back and T'd have to-feed him.” 3 The younger man’s interest in 'Lijah was more intrigued than ever. Returning with his companion earlier than usual one eVening, he sought out 'Bama. He was eager, he sald, to see 'Lijah. - But that worthy, as usual, falled to answer even when have understood—there were guests | them in | shimmering | re- | 'Bama, standing on the kitchen porch, called his name lustily several times. “When does he sleep?” the stranger asked. He doesn’t seem to be around the place of nights.” “Sleep? Him sleep? You neentuh woory ‘bout ‘at, Cap'n. All ’Lijah needs is a sof’ place on de shady side of a tree when dey’s somep'm needs doin’ round de house. He'll ‘tend to :ie sleepin’. Dey’'s jus’ two things ll;llé.g" K(:;‘)dh(zh: };17 de sleep-lovin'es’ le catfish-ketchin’es’ it es’ nigguah you “He's typical all' right,” the stran- ger laughed. “And I must see him. I've simply got to see him before 1 leave.” ’ * ok ok % JUDGE Holmsted found gradually forming a sneaking fondness for his creation. Maybe it was because he was unconsclously bringing into being an ideal. For Lijah was just the shiftless, work: dodging, cigar-pilfering type that the Judge would have loved—the kind that would run rabbits with his bird dogs—provided the Judge could afford the dogs—or slip his pack of fox hounds out on cold Autumn nights— if the. Judge should ever own a pack—for surreptitious ’‘coon and 'Possum hunting. Yes . . . that would be just like ‘Lijah. Indolent, grumbling always, complaining of a mis'Ty in his side; absolutely depend- ent, thoroughly undependable —and utterly likable. TIn short, he would Dbe perfect. The Judge even caught himself at times murmuring aloud | “That trifing black rascal!” But such things—oh, well!—they | were dreams, visions that an old man was seeing. As the strangers showed no signs | of terminating their visit, 'Bama, with | visions of u rapidly depleted larder |began to experience a real conce:n. | With only the Judge and herself to | car€ for, she could have made shift of | some sort. Maybe a hint to Judze | Holmsted of the real state of affairs | might not prove unavailing. So she | tried, very diplomatically, one évening |at the supper table, to sound a | warning. " “Judge, guh.” she remarked. mean |ingly. " *’Lijah s chickens agl'j: i heen S Ingstede | “What of {t?" Judge Holmsted | smiled on his guests. ‘Lijan | plained, was probably giving a party for some of his friends. A few chick matter, do himself ens, more or | less, | they. "Bama?' don’t ‘But dese is fattenin' chickens, suh: de onlies’ ones 1 had left.’ | “You don't mind 'Lijah entertaininz | his friends, do vou?" the talkative | stranger asked “Not gen‘ally; been gittin lately."” suh too no entirely But he entertainin’ | “Doesn’t he catch enough fish for g | | his feasts? | “Yessuh: he ketches plenty fish But catfish, vou knows, is just niggub’s reg-lar eatin’ victuals. Dey | uses de chickens kind o' foh dessert | “You must find his parties some. | thing of a drain on your resource | “'Tain’t no pahty, suh, he’s givin |"is time. It's justa shindig—a plain shindig.” The judge explained was a dance. “Dance?” The that a shindig vounger “An stranger old man lke “Him dance?" {*“Just de thoughts of a fiddle’ll send him shuffiin’ his feets ‘cross de flo'- |right now.” Age ain't purified him { none” | *'Bama, strictly orthodox | religious beliefs, ‘was patently out |raged by this latest of the hapless | "Lijah's escapades, for as she left the {room they heard her muttering “An’ him wid gran’ chillun. Us | gWine to have him churched—I sho is | Between themselves the strangers {discussed the business which had | brought them to Holmacres. It's showing up even better than the estimate we received,” the older { man said one evening. “One of the richest deposits I ever saw,” the other admitted. When they went to their room he complained of not being in the mood for sleeping. The rays of that Southern moon, he said, must have |affected him. He felt restless; he'd | walk round a bit. | Five minutes later he returned | quietly to the house, mounted the stairs softly, undressed silently, and went to bed. | * ok o ox THE next morning as they seated 1 themselves at the breakfast table, | 'Bama’s voice, raised in loud and in- dignant self-commotion, was heard in | the kitchen. ‘o'se, he don’t keer’. Out dere gin' vearthworms to go fishin' wid lettin’ all 'em cows an' ca'fe git Don’t ake no diffe’'nce to s don’t have no milk foh de in “her an’ together! him_if | cawfee It was much better, ‘Bama rea- | soned, to blame this lack on ‘Lijah | than be compelled to admit that their only cow, bitten by a snake two dayvs previously, had died But the vounger stranzer, usually =0 talkative when reference was made to 'Lijah, was strangely silent now. | Another dav. as the visitors were | dressing in their room, the more taci- turn one spoke of their business. “I wonder,” he asked, “If the judge knows anything about the value of the property?” “Oh, yes!” The younger man's lo- quaciousness had returned. “He knows all about it. I was talking to ‘Lijah only vesterday’—he made sud- den pretence of -searching for some- thing in his traveling bag— “and he | said the judge had received several offers for the property, but that he wasn't_eager to sell. Saving it as a sort of nest egg, I was given to understand. In fact, 'Lijah said—" “So, you've seen him?’ At the first mention of the name, the serious- faced stranger had seemed surprised —almost startfed. Then a look of comprehension—of complete and sym- pathetic understanding—lighted his |grave features. And, as he smiled softly, tiny wrinkies creased the ! corners of his eves. “What's 'Lijah | like?" “Just what I expected. Quite a character. Unique. He let understand how these Southern | planters feel about parting with any {of their landholdings. From what |"Lijah said, the judge probably wouldn't even name a figure if we were to approach him on the matter. And don't forget that it would be fatal even to think of trying any haggling. He doesn’t want for money, with this plantation bringing in a steady income and all the servants he needs. That’s not even consider- ing what he gets out of his law prac- tice. Now, I'd suggest—" v Just a moment!* At tie interruption the voluble young stranger looked up from his travelling bag. Something that he { saw—maybe it was the quiet smile in his companion’s eyes—sent an an- swering flash into his own. *“We're partners.” the serious.faced man reminded him, “and ought to be frank with each other. Just how long have you known the actual con- ditions here? That 'Lijah is a myth? That it's the judge who has been polishing our shoes—" “And washing that old buggy!” The younger man's face was crim- son. ““And letting us have his saddle horse—the only one on the place— while he rode a mule! Think of it! That hospitable old aristocrat! Pov. he ex-| ‘Bama gave answer. | me | 12, 1925—-PART i HE CALLED AGAIN MORE LOUD! erty-stricken! 1 He and stopped. “We both understand, 1 guess.’ The quiet-spoken man ektended his hand, which was grasped in silence. = 'HAT evening they announced Judge Holmsted that, having fin- ished’ their inspection, they were ready to return home. After thank ing the judge for his hospitality, the younger stranger broached the matter of business. They were not only timberland investors, it appeared, but dealt also tm other property. But, as he tried diplomatically to come to the subject uppermost in his mind, he seemed strangely ill at ease for one accustomed to business deals of mag- nitude. And finally, instead of the tactful approach which he had planned, he came very bluntly to the point. “There's a deposit of mica on that |ninn 40 or ars, Judge,” he said simply. “Wodld you eare to sell 1¢7" That old hill 40! Hope blossomed faintly in Judge Molmsted's breast | The strangers might—it was barely | possible that they might—pay enough for that rocky, worthless waste to take care of that threatening inter- est note” If so, he was assured to Y STERLI HEILIG. PARIS, July 1 LONGWORTH'S hurried up t Paris from the fightin front at Fez, on a parti lar errand connected with it. | She met her brother, who had been | staying at her house in Paris Nicholas Longworth is a personage lin France. As Speaker of the House of Representatives, he corresponds to the President of the French Chamber of Deputies—a very great coming directly after the President of | the Republic. His sister |in the press. ix also a | for she ix the wife of the French | general who holds the most difficult section of the extreme battle front |against Abd-el-Krim in Morocco— |Gen. Count Adelbert de Chambrun. Ln“'hPr\ brother and sister were ICHOLAS sister has was in conference with the head of the French zovernment, Prime Min- ister Painleve. who bad flown from France to Morocco by airplane, and | with Marshal Lyautey, the com- mander-in-chief—and was explaining the battle front. where they stood, on the banks of the Ouergha Madame la Generale de Chambrun, |as the French say, she who was Miss Clara Longworth, was in Paris to get supplies for the hospitals in and around Fez—to which the wounded also come in airplane from the fight- | inz line - She had experience in the World War, and she has learned Morocco inside and out. during the vears COUNT DE CHAMBRUN (SECON OF FRENCH ARTILLERY AT WAS ATTACHED AS LIEUTENANT COLONEL TO GE SHING'S STAFF, AND NOW HE IS A GENERAL IN MOROCCO. man, | eeting in Paris, Gen. de Chambrun | - m/;),,,w.,,, LY, “'LIJAH.” stammered | tenancy of his home for another six | barns | months. | But | again. After that the stranger “We realize, was Judge sp that haggling over such a thing i We've talked it over, my friend I. and have decided to offer what the property is worth to us That faint® gleam of hope flick and died. Evidently the stran | considered the hill 40 almost less. Foolish! Just an old dreaming Holmacres of his ancestors home of tality He heard the stranger's vc He was speaking rapidl: offer vou, for all rights $50,000." ifty thousand dollars! ing Judge Holmsted have noticed a sudden the blue veins at his temples have detected a slight tremor in hand that went up, trying cernedly 1o stroke his gra might even have observed his hand grip tightly for a moment arm of the chair on which it Maybe, in that brief instant aw a dream fulfilled: broad fenced to pasture and dotted | sleek cattle and fat swine lands, vellow with [ipening o h e We to the closely throbbing since her husband has been a general jlance, and a sorting depot the fight- line |there. Now that he is on ing line, she is working for the just to the rear—for Fez has 1 at times, only 30 miles from actual battle. Other fell known women & there. | Mlle. Krug. sister of Mme |mer. wife of the new French |sador to Washington, and 10 other |dies of the Aid Society | Wounded were caught by the war {the midst of their practice “stage Morocco. | At the critical moment | Riffs occupied Tissa, less when than |along with six Francis were permanently at Fe: |the health,seyes, etc. dren. % HE_ Auvert Hospital Mme. de Chambrun is particular supplies, is a collectien sweet, clean wooden shacks in * % for den property loaned by of Fez. Being actually in the Dar | this great hospital of the “first | takes most | from the front. a without shock, shaking or | the air! Lesser wounded arrive [motor cars. | The Auvert Hospital does everything a hospital can do. evacuation hospital in D FROM RIGHT), WHEN MAJOR ST. MIHIEL IN 1915. IN 1917 HE PER- AND STILL NO ONE ANSWERED. LUGGAGE. HE LED THEM WITHIN THE HOUSE. kin, be- | | tween gentlemen, there should be no | price i and you just value man hospi gain can land One watch might might the uncor goatee ther rested the Judge fields with sttom the re down Daesch Ambas. the | gardens, is about of native chil which | fetching | g the cool, silent shade of a magnificent gar rich native Kittani one"" of the wounded straight| The airplanes, alread: {==tenpalin ieing ithe) e wommded atigue— the longest trip is but a half hour by sanitary almost It is an a surgical ambu- Do eorernr are R i TAKING UP THEIR as hefitted with its doors and outhouses, vast estate: Holmacres, once more flung wide But whatever might emotions, he gave no them as he answered with grave courtesy: “8o0 far as 1T know, gentlemen ter can be arranged on basis. th When the strangers left nex ing he expressed regret that )t accompany them to tow urgent matters necessitated his ence on the plantation. Ther could leave Grover Cleveland and the bugg at the livery stable in Wynnes borough. He would send 'Liiah fr them After they had gone he se self before the old rosewood secretar Maybe he dreamed again quail hunting during the crisp mo of Fall of fox hounds in ti kennels of servants Suddenly he drew up a paper and began writing in precise script. And when finished he scanned wha ter pres ted hin he “or Dlantatie Must be Wer to the name of Eljah il (Copyright. 1925 Longworth’s Sister in Morocco Where Her Husband Fights Riffs Since the wounde cool with al zery 70 its beginning of the war have passed through peaceful pavilions, furnished the latest perfections in radiography Long cases do not stav Fractures, show wounds tions, etc.. are evacuated Rabat, Kenitra or Casablanca tary cars furnished with the at Auvert compli Meknes b Brecho san of Military |anti-shock system this one-time Auvert Hospita dark, cool. fragr the sweetest place a wounded lad could dream uf it ccording to nati girl, the side Fez, in.its while less spoken about | mjles from Fez, these ladies turned in |a blistering African sun! personage. iand formed an ambulance service an Sisters who | alike by the civilian and military popu attending to|lation | In peace times it has 50 beds Today it runs 500 beds, and = very perfect service. which has profited in every way by World War expe | rience. | At Auvert (here is a queer detail) | they have extracted from the wound Mauser projectiles, projectiles of Spanish military rifies, lead balls “of 74, old model,” and even the very lat est French projectiles, from modern rapid-fire arms— ‘which makes one | wonder how they get them!” Another thing, quite as remarkable, is that Auvert does not shelter (and has never sheltered) a single Riff regu- ar or partisan! The “Rouafa’ inva- riably take up and carry off their | wounded—*which shows high organ- {ization,” says the countess The sanitary state of the French wounded is good. There is no intes tinal fever, and only one case of gan- grene in a hundred. ‘‘Better than at Verdun.” they have all but stamped out that awful plague The calm, warm air of Fez is favor {able to the re-establishment of shocked organisms. In fact, the whole sani tary service in Morocco has been so successful and sufficient that, up to the present. there has besn no ques tion of transporting wounded men to France! The wounded are better served at Fez than they were in the World War, with more systematic applica tions of up-to-date medical science and, if possible, more personal atten tion to comforts and little luxuries R HE countess has a right to speak about the World Wief. There w times when this Cincinnati girl dodged shells, on her bicycle, to visit the ar tillery headquarters of her husband outside St. Mihiel In her Paris housé, where Nicholas Longworth is now paying her a short visit, she keeps framed fo gether, under gla two large coliec ] tions of her military passes, extend ing away bevond the period when Joffre ordered that women should not ordinarily, o to the actual fighting front itself. She saw historic days In garrison at St. Mihiel, ina rented | villa, she finally reached Paris as a refugee, having lost everything, “eve my large Shakespeare library, and aZ my pictures!” | Immediately when France was {vaded, her husband went with the | covering troops: and then went into action, all the time within 40 mlies of {St. Mihiel, during the first three weeks. | " This was when she bicycled, alone {to the artillery headquarters of, then | Maj. de Chambrun. When things went bad, on August 30, 1914, she actually penetrated to what afterward became the battlefield of Mort Homme, which the French were hold- ing at that moment. There she saw her husband in the trenches, and learned that he had sent her a_telegram 10 days previously, to | quit Mihfel. Her children went iby the last train to Paris. She had |stayed on at St. Mihiel, evacuating | the hospitals and seeing people off. At the last moment, she came ho Paris Hn a motor car, whose chauffeur wis | dying! It gave a terrific touch to the ad venture. in