Evening Star Newspaper, October 18, 1925, Page 88

6 AT ELEVE THE SUNfiAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C BY JOE TAYLOR, Ex-Bandit He Found an Answer to the Question, “Does Crime Pay?” “A bloke who's afrald_to take a chance Bever gets anywhere. eve Brodie. E quote the old-time Sage of the Bowery ts give point ¢ our beliet that chance, or luck, plays a most im- portant’ part in every man’s life, be he rich man, poor man, beggar man or thief. The late Steve Brodie, as the older gen ation knows, made a pile of money in his all-night cafe on the Bowery—then the mecca of sightseeing, slumming parties in search of thrifls—on the strength of & widely advertised report that he had | dared to jump from Brooklyn B into the Fast River at risk of his life. This foolhardy, death-defying leap was Fupposed ave been taken on a dark nig But destiny ker call had cer ness the aristocratic nues, on a quiet Sixtles, just L we a whisper e of Central Park Here the majoi ofsthe t residences are bhoarded | up the gre r part of each vea VH\-i occupled except by caretakers, the owners belng North, South, West or | sbroad, according to the season or the | dictates of high fashion What horrified e on of cul eyebrows—w righteous indi; it any of 1 e weulthy nei knew, or even suspected, that John Crawford, the new lessee and occupant of No. 11, was about :u’ dedicate this forme home of the late Jamented Herman Vandernoot, banker. as & luxurious temple to the fickle ddess of Luck—a gambling house par excellence, where chosen men of substance could dally with roulette, faro, poker and baccarat. Early in the evening Bunday last December, alone in the big house, settled his eplendid 6 feet of correctly tailored manhood into the depths of a leathern armchair before the blazing logs of the fireplace in the spacious reception hall of No. 11. Expecting no tors, he had switched off lights, gnd now, in the file light, Fave himself over to contented musing over the result of the succes- sion of events which had combined to raise him to his present eminence in the top rank of his chosen profes- sion. It was no dream, he told himself suppressing a yawn. Here he w 38, worth more than a half million dol lars. Every stick and bit of the costly fittings and furnishings in this truly palatial gaming establishment which he would formally open for business the following night was his very own, bought and paid for. He reveled in the thought. He knew how to protect himself here. All his already numerous cli- ents were men of proved standing and wealth. No meddling agent of the po. lice, seeking evidence, would ever win | an entrance here. Each new cus temer, before being admitted, would first have to be subjected to slow, thorough investization and measure up to & high standard of soclal and financial fitness. How swiftly, he reflacted, had the past six years flown by! What an amazinz contrast they were, compared with the five years immediately pre- ceding them! ~The five long, leaden vears of a prison cell in ths big At- lanta penitentiary. What would these high-class New Yorkers, his present customers, say or do if they knew that he, the gentle- manly John Crawford, who had so completely won their confidence and respect as a square gambler, had been a safe-blower in his native South and the Southwest? “There's small chance,” he assured himself, yawning sleepily, “of them or any one else ever finding out what be- came of a Southern yegg called Curly Powell. The mellow tones of a tall grand- father’s clock on the landing chimed the hour of 10 as his thoughts blurred drowsily and he dozed into a short nap. werns the strange fessional C ord of Crawford | somewher Wit- | No. 11, between Madison ave- in the middle ured | tion | ors | M of a certain “rawford, e T the time of his arrest 11 years before, and later when he was sen- tenced to Atlanta, newspapers all over the South featured Curly Powell sen- sationally as the long-sought young N\ | open-air, | he regain the pink | der cover | ravenously Curly promised to be sure to look him up at Cincinnati the coming Fall. Harper’s brother Tom kept a well- known sporting hotel in the tender- loin of the big Ohio city and Curly would always find a cordial welcome there. Curly's last few days behind the rs were given over to dreams of how he would use his freedom. He had a bit of money in the warden's fe, would walk out with a hundred and’ fifty-odd dollars. While that lusted, for perhaps a couple of months, he would harden his body, toughen his muscles, by living the carefree life of a freight- riding hobo. And so he did. After that let Fate decide. it did. The two and a half months follow- ing his release from prison, of soli- t aimless drifting libergy under oft, Southern skies had a pleasing effect of bronzing the decent coun- tenance of Powell. And not only did of physical con- dition. but his steady brown eves re- lected the vigor of a well-developed mental po Always And so reful of his appearance, h well-cut_clothes surprisingly free from travel stains, the casual observer never suspected that this big, clean-looking ¢ p was an_ex-convict who had curled up to sleep night after night at campfires he built be- side the rightof-way ~of various railroads. He had made no attempt to earn or steal a dollar, and one cold, cloudy midnight in late October found him riding fn West Virginta on a C. & O. freight train bound for Cincinnati and the friendly sight of Big Bill Harper, the counterfeiter. Back in hilly Lynchburg, two days before, he had run into one “Jigger” Cassidy, an old-time cracksman he knew. “Jigger” was in the last stages of tuberculc pititully ragged, and Curly had cheerfully staked him with his last greenback; the bill he had been counting on with which to buy his eats along the C. & O. to Cin- cinnatl and Harper. . In the course of his activitles as a yeggman, Powell had often ridden on the cushions of enger coaches in comfort and ease. But he had travel- ed many more hundreds of miles un- wd secrecy of darkness in all sorts of weather on the outside of t s passenger trains. nothing new to him to be the heavily damp, cutting vinging, swaying, midnight in ¥ sitting in wind atop of the s olting box car this October. But it was new to be flat broke, hungry, as well as chilled to the bone. He had gone without food all that day on account of his generosity to old “Jigger.” “Cincy was still another day's travel ahead of him. He was hungrier than ever before in his life. * ok x ok THE laboring engine ahead whistled for a crossing and he could feel the train slackening speed. They must be nearing a town. his mind to get off, build a fire and see if he could round up something for his empty stomach. A few minutes later, as the long train of loaded boxcars, moving along at about 10 miles an hour, rolled its creaking way through the middle of a small, sleeping town, Curl with ex- pert swing, dropped lightly from a side ladder to the cinder path beside the tracks. He stood, a motionless. dark shadow, while the train passed him, rumbled en without stopping, on into the open country bevond. He stepped forward in the wake of the fast-dwindling twin red lights on the rear of the caboose. On either side of him a few scattered street lights dimly winking in the murky darkness were the only signs of life or movement on the unpaved streets of the tiny burg. Soon he heard the | departed engine’s iron throat deepen its steamy cough and his understand- ing ear told him the long train had reached a heavy upgrade about a mile away. 4 quarter hour's brisk walk brought him to hilly farmlands. Continuing farther, picking up stray bits of wood as he went, he chose a spot beside the tracks where the roadbed ran upgrade between high, sloping banks, and after collecting more wood from & field he He made up | THE STRICKEN MAN HAD EYES ONLY FOR THE FACE OF HIS ASSAILANT. T King of Safe Burglars. And when, for solid five-year stretch, he entered the big prison on the wave of that noto- faty—secretly envied by a great num- ber of prisoners there—he built a wall bt reserve about himself. The only hip he formed was with Big Bill , his cellmate during he final months of his imprisonment. larper, an engraver by trade, was nishing a shorter term for counter- eiting. Lach of them had better than fair education, and a_warm regard ad soon mutually developed. 's time expired in July, & onth before Powell's release, and ore the counterfeiter went home soon had a grateful blaze going in a hollow of the bank. Rolling a cig- arette from a well filled tobacco pouch, he sat down by his lonely fire and gazed thoughtfully into the danc- ing flames. The exertion of walking ard the wood-gathering had driven much of the chill and discomfort from his body, but he could not forget his hunge Of course, he reflected, he would have plenty to eat as soon as he struck “‘Cincy.’ Big Bill or his brother would see to that. And he'd be with them before another night would pass. He did not even have a jimmy with him, although he might find a blacksmith shop and get some sort of a tool. But, anyway, it would be foolish and too cheap to ‘“crash” a store here for a few bites to eat. There’s be no money in sight. No, he'd stick it out, take a warm nap by this fire, and about daylight he’d hop on the fast frelght he knew would be due. It had to go slowly up this steep grade. He's hold it down. right into “Cincy” by dark that night. And then his vacation would be over. He guessed he'd try out that graft he and Big Bill had doped out. They'd get the money. What was that? His quick ear had heard a soft crunching sound in front of him, past the fire. Listening intently, he heard nothing for a while, and was half convinced he had been mistaken when he again heard a_slight movement. He could not see far into the night’s misty wall of blackness which began where the circle of firelight ended, but he had an uncomfortable feeling that some one was watching him from a little way down the track, toward the town. ““There’s room for one more in this hotel,” he called out cheerily, and was not greatly surprised to see a figure emerge from the gloom and slowly | approach the fire. * ok ok ok THE newcomer was a tall, peculiar- looking man of about 30. His lank figure gave the Impression of having recently wasted with some serious fll. ness until the loosely hanging blue suit was much too large for him. This was further suggested by the extreme | pallor of his skin, showing dead-white in contrast to jet-black hair, and sev- eral days' growth of beard. His dark, beady eyes reflected a curious blend- ing of timidity and appeal, and he walked slowly with a seemingly pain- ful limp. Powell judged this was no ordinary “Weary Wililie,” and felt pity for his obvious weakness of body and air of helplessness. Sit_down, buddy, and warm your- self. You look all in,” he invited, kindly With a murmur of thanks the stranger settled down close to the fire. The warmth of the blaze seemed soon to loosen a softly glib tongue and | he began to reel off a tale of his trou- bles. Curley listened with sympathetic n- terest at first, but before it had gone far his sympathy was all but wiped out by an increasing conviction that the story was too loosely put together to be aitogether true. The stranger’s story started off with losing a job through sickness “last ring” as telegraph operator in a Washington stock broker's office. His | wife had been sick, too, with long, ! lingering lung trouble. He had burjed her “last month” and it had taken almost his last dollar. He had rela- tives out in Marlon; was on his way | there. He was broke, half starved, but could not bring himself to be, He had been, he sald, two weeks get- ting this far from Washington toward Marion and the certainty of a welcome by his relatives there. Why did it take you two weeks to get only this far?” inquired Curly, well knowing the freight train crews in this part of the country seldom or never bothered a man traveling quietly alone. “I have a sprained ankle. I have to £et on_a train when she's standing stll. But they have cops and de- tectives around the railroad yards, and I'm afrald of getting pinched for being a hobo,” was the ready response, ac- companied by a darting silde glance across the fire that was not unnoticed by Powell's sharp eyes. But he gave no sign that he felt sure his companion had deeper rea- sons for avolding the police than ap- peared in the other's hard-luck recital. “Well, buddy, he finally volun- teered, “I'm heading your way. In a couple of hours, about daybreak, a f: freight will be coming along. She slows up going through that burg back there and up this heavy grade around this curve she will only crawl. I can make her down a ways, and if you grab the side ladder I'm on when I come past, I'll lean down and swing you on as easy as ple. And now,” he concluded, dryly, “we'll quit chewing the rag. I'm going to take a light snooze till I hear her coming.” * K X ok "THUS it happened that long after the sun was up that morning, when the fast freight stopped at a lone water-tank 60 miles nearer Cincinnati, it had for passengers Curly Powell and the tall, beady-eyed liar with a limp. They were riding the rear end of a flat car on a wide free space behind two large crated threshing machines. Leaning over the side of the car, Curly looked forward along the now stationary train to the engine, where, standing on the tender top, the fire- man was swinging the long water- nozzle of the tank to the mouth of his panting, thirsty engine. As he gazed his eye caught sight of a thin spiral of smoke, blue in the sunlight, in a fleld off to the side, between the flat car and the head of the train. As he looked he saw three men leave the fire, climb over the barbed wire fence and clamber aboard another flat car up near the engine. Slim,” he called over his shoulder, “I'll_be right back. I've got a hunch.” Iie jumped to the ground and step- ped out for the deserted fire. As he had guessed, this had been a breakfast fire. Hls searching eyes of hunger saw scraps of paper strewn about. Three small overturned tin cans contained wet coffee grounds, their blackened sides still warm. An empty pasteboard cracker box yielded nothing but dust. Ah! Here was luck worth a million | dollars! A long wide slice of thick bacon, browned to a turn, had been left to one side on a clean, folded paper bag. As he reached down for it his eves glistened brightly. . . .| then dulled. “He remembered the pale- | faced man he had just left. For a long minute he fought a strong desire to devour the tempting treasure, but finally he wrapped the paper bag around it and turned toward the train, carrying it in his hand. “It's a good-sized plece,” he told himself, “I'll bring it back and give the poor fellow half of it. He's been yapping about being so hungry all morning. The “poor fellow” was walting for him, watching him coming with the small paper package in his hand, and Curly tossed it up to him before he started to climb up beside him, saying, “Look what I found. We'll 2 At that instant the frelght cars jerk- ed and bumped together preparatory to going ahead and Curly drew back the hand he had stretched forth to 8rasp the side ladder. This delay was stll long enough for the man on the flat car fo unfold the paper, and with & quick movement he stuffed the whole plece of bacon into his mouth, closing his jaws on it like a famished wolf. Curly swung up beside him a mo- ment later, and, seeing what had hap- pened, had all he could do to keep himself from throwing the weaker man off the now moving train. Afte a long glance of wild-rage at those crunching jaws, he turned away with set, white lips and sat hotly silent, gazing at the passing flelds with un. seeing eyes. By the time Slim had swallowed the last of the bacon the train began to grasped his gun when Curly’s power- ful swing to his jaw knocked him bodily over the side of the car. * K ok K RLY strained forward and watch- ed him land crazily on his feet at the edge of the narrow pathway, and with a swift sidelong twist roll head first down the sloping bank into a hol- low and lie still. Without hesitation Curly swung over the side of the car, dropped to the ground with supple ease, and ran back to the fallen man, reaching him Just before the caboose passed on. “He must be dead,” was the fright- ened, unspoken thought of the ex- convict as he stooped jover the mo- tionless, huddled heap Iylng head downward at the foot of the slope. With gentle strength he lifted and righted the body, thrust his hand in through shirt and undershirt to feel if the heart were still beating. It was . . though faintly. Much relieved, he was about to with- draw his hand, when his exploring fingers accidentally came in contact with an object next the unconscious man's skin. What was this? He grasped and drew it forth a long leather wallet. He it. Could he believe it Yellow-backed bills . . them JIA11 T$1000 bllls . and nothing clse in the wallet. No wonder this bird was afraid of police. He slipped the wallet and its valua. ble contents into his own pocket and proceeded to relieve the mysterious stranger of the six-shooter he had tried to draw a few minutes re. A long sigh from the lips ofthe in Jured man seemed to Curly a warning of returning consclousness. e scram- bled up the bank and looked up and down the railroad tracks. A quarter- mile in the direction from which they had come on the train he saw two men walking toward him. They would have to pass the spot and could not help seeing the prostrate man. A fraction of a second’s indecision and Curly turned and set off at a rapid step in the direction of Cincinnati. % ox ok HE following evening a tall, ele- gantly attired young chap of 32 atepped aboard a Pullman bound east His expensive gladstone bag bore the monogram “J. C.”; his ticket read “New York City.” 'Big Bill Harper's brother, the hotelkeeper, had obliged without asking questions in the mat-| ter of getting a $1,000 bill changed into conveniently small dimensions. Curly Powell had become John Crawford He had never been to New York, but | he had more money than ever at one | time in his life and he had a hunch he was going to like the big town. Broadway took John Crawford to its sporting bosom with an extraordinary speed. From the first his gambling luck was nothing short of phenomenal. | The more he wagered the more he won. Horses, cards and dice were the | means of multiplying his 10,000 by 10 in the first six months. As time went swiftly on, an Increas- fng number of the top-notchers of Manhattan's professional gambling element came to regard Crawford as a fixed star among plungers, a con- sistent, dependable sport and a gentle. man. He was invariably cool and well mannered. He steered clear of the cup that inebriates and never fell vietim to the snares of gold-digging women. Old Sam Webster, the veteran game. keeper, who left a cool million to his heirs when he dled in 21, took a liking to him. “Sonn: old Sam had said to Craw- ford a few days before his last iliness, “let the suckers take the chances. Get a place of your own and build up a play among the solid business men who can afford to lose. Keep the pik- ers out and you'll have little trouble with the police.” The advice was carefully heeded and the new No. 11 was the final re- suit of it. U opened 11 of WAk ok HE favorite of fortune who had been Curly Powell awoke from his solitary doze before the open fireplace in the reception hall of the silent house. He rose to his feet, stretching lazily, and glanced at his watch. “Guess I'll toddle'to bed. Tomorrow will be my busy day,” was his inward comment as he noted he had slept nearly an hour. Presently he entered the large back room at the top of the house which he had reserved for his bachelor sleep- ing quarters. He closed the door be- hind him, and as his hand reached out in the darkness for the electric light in the wall, he suddenly became aware that one of the rear windows was wide open . . . that some one stood before it in the room with him. At the same instant he touched the button that flooded the room with light a nervous finger pulled on the trig- ger of a heavy-calibered revolver—a terrifying roar—and a bullet ploughed its cruel way into John Crawford’s breast. He staggered back against the closed door and slid unsteadily to the floor into a sitting posture with his hands pressed to the wound. The light revealed a tall, slim, dark man in a cap, clutching a revolver He had beady black eyes that glared at his victim across the rcom with a hunted, murderous intensity. Behind him, through the open win- dow, could be seen the short, narrow strip of rope ladder swinging from the roof, that told the tale of his entrance. But, in the long, tense silence that followed the shot the stricken man had eyes only for the face of his assailant. Recognition seemed to come to each of them at the same time . . . their thoughts flashed back six years to a plece of bacon e flat car on a freight train. . . . “Well,” exclaimed the lanky one, “I finally found you.” Crawford tried to speak, but found he was unable to get breath -or strength to force the words. “Ha, you're croaking, ain’t ya? Just like you left me to croak after trim- ming me of the warden's dough.” The shooter seemed to realize his victim was dying and wanted to taunt him. “T'll_bet ya didn't know whose Concerning the Bean. THE war ended and millions de- clared that they “would never again look & bean in the face.” After being ‘‘beaned” from 1916 to 1919, doughboys, devil dogs and gobs suf- fered a relapse at the gound or sight of the word. But time is a great healer and the Department of Agri- culture has deemed it safe to screen the life of a bean and its enemy the beetle. For those who saw service an old score will be wiped out in witness- ing this picture. In it the beetle works havoc with the humble bean and al- most ruins it but for an application of beetle poison. For those who are unaware of the bean’s importance the Government has presented the follow- ing comparisons: If our total crop ‘were made into bean soup there would be enough to run Niagara Falls for more than 8 hours. If all the baked means, canned and in cases, were piled case upon case they would make nine piles, each | parents for many OCTOBER 18 money that was. Ya didn’t know who | or ya'd a turned me up for the | reward.” | Standing over the dying gambler, he poured out a flood of words that were almost incoherent, but Craw- ford now learned what he had often wondered about. The tramp he had first befriended and then robbed had been serving time in a big Pennsylvania prison for | 1925—PART 5 D burglary. fancy to hin ant's job In h after knocking sclous and stealing taining the $11,000 funds. The simple farmers who had pick- ed him up by had treated him well never been rearrested nd given him a serv- house. e had escaped the warden uncon- his wallet con- of the prison’s and he had| He had come | (il:Rl.\"S POWERFUL SWING TQ]_"S JAW K 'OQKED HIM BODILY OVER THE SIDE OF The warden had taken a|North and tracked Crawford with in-| taker finite patience. he had! What was that? The beady-eyed man listened. It was the mellow chime of the grandfather’s clock in the lower hall striking the hour of And, he was tho rafiroad tracks|11. And as the last note struck, John | from Crawford breathed his last. The following afternoon the care. HE CAR. next door, glancing from a win dow, discovered what proved to hs the body of a tall man with a cap. It was lying lifeless on the stone flag ging of No. 11's back yard. Before long this strange ocourrencs was explained by the furth cov | ery of a broken rope ladder dangling the roof directly above tha | corpse. (Copyright. 192 Busy Bureau of Central High School Gives Valuable College Information BY CATHERINE SHE| RE you going to s or girl to colle know which taking the r prepa course, or when he w enter is he going to find that he hasn't had the required preparation or cured the required grades for just the college of his choice? The college bureau of the Centrs High Sheocl, which functions activel 10 months of the year, is formed to | prevent just that catastrophe in the lives of its boys and girls. 1t glves atl and _direction to forward- looki Washington students and pare from the time the pupils enter high school, if they will but muke v of its resources. Yet each vear « of short-sighted, bitterly disappointed students and parents occur, in which a worthy student is ready to graduate from the high school, but finds he is not prepared to enter any of his pre ferred colleges Here I8 the case of a bright voung girl student. wide-awake and intelli- gent, whose father in her third vear offered to send her to any collegs she chose. This sent her to the college bu reau. After diligent study of catalogue: and much correspondence the ¢ of the bureau finally ocnvine and her incredulous parent tk the end of her four years, regardless of what courses she now chose could not be prepared for ar colleges she wished to enter b she had taken domestic art in early years, and not Latin. “It only T had known vou had service” is the frequent regret otherwise absorbed parent. “If onl I had come to see vou earlier” is the | frequent wall of the belated student. | Since the first vear at high school is none too early to begin preparing directly for college, according to the high school authoritles, and since pu- | pils and parents. in the. aggregate, | are singularly indifferent to concrete early plans, the college bureau has used every practicable means through the classroom teachers, ssemblies, etc., to ach the 3,000 and more pu- pils'and see that those who need it se cure the required guidance. this the classroom teachers of the fresh. man and sophomore years do excellent work, according to the director of the college_bureau. sending their pupi to_the bureau in great numbers. Miss Dorothea F. Sherman, a mem- ber of the Central faculty, is the di- rector of the college bureau. She is a graduate of Central and of George Washington University, with a mas- ter's degree from Columbia. Her headquarters are in the alumnl room, easily accessible, to the left of the large main entranca to the building. | Here she is available to pupils and | hours of eve school day and for certain periods | throughout the last of June and the | first of September. i College bureau work was inaugu-| rated about 1918, under the auspices | her this leve Alumni | 1 advisory service to The work was first un- | Miss F the Ce \portan g that it was taken | ular work of | 1ch office space | in the crowded | 0ol and wa ven a part-time di- | rector. Those in charge of the Cen. | tral High School have always given it whole-hearted support * 1001, W can be red * k% Ll X grows out of the | he modern high and the modern college, it i | 1out. Ina c n school | en wide variety of courses | is offered dern high school | tends more e to meet the| needs of ma s of pupf cially those i1 go no It becomes less and less distinctly col- lege preparate A pupil left to him- elf or the influence of his friends | kely to be attracted by the voca- | 1 subjects, which appeal strongly | olescent pupils | ire a reason- se in every duate, even | . and find he | r any JEED for the wo: de school e elopments of Ina igned to se well balanced cot e, but a pupil may with an excel is not ex of the col s of | colleges w devoting an | extra vear to preparation. Yet it is possible for a pupil to be prepared to | enter i} with one possible | exc. = end of a four-year cou 1 if that course has | bee: v laid out. Work of the college bureau is of two advisory and clerical. The advisory part is, of course, the big and important thing, but the director is limited by a teaching program and the 1 work necessarily reaches its maximum at the opening and close of Becau time wh > of this rush of work at ths n selection of courses must | > by the pupils, speclal effor notices in bulletins and frequent as he pupils to com specified peri- e saved hours of walting, the director will have more time to devote to giving them in- dividual advice and planning. advisory work is of three gen- eral kinds and {s avallable alike to parent and pupil: (1) Giving out information about col- leges: A comprehensive collection of 1 catalogues and illustr: nouncements blfes, to e ed circulation among e study and experience have siven the director a wide genera Knowledge of these colleges. (2) Selecting college suitable for stu- dent’s needs: Effort is made to ascer- tain wishes of student, previous prepa- |s | leges er and must be done then. | y - his abilitles and a plans or ambitic ture work so far as the pupil is to formulate them (3) Laying out hig eparation for colleg upil is air ourse, this involve last year or two. says Miss Sherm entire course for from the grades. T’ is increasing. Parer sult tha college bureau wh is in the eighth grade ov hool. This makes pc of a course to fit a partic or type of college. A fe be left open to he deci the course as a the pupil the adv of a definite a school ) Giving ad about available schol sisting in awarding scholarship: y regional scholarships are open to Cen tral graduates, many open t i uates of Washington high schoc several are awarded specifically Central graduates. * x x x F school cour P planning on The preferable work, z out the OR the benefit of the dires popular r ns among them as (1) That colleges will graduate of an accredited or that students on the high This is true of ver Practically all have ments both as to st quality of wol They tailed information and usuall has its own blank form to be used signed by the high school prigelpal. (2) That four vears of in will fulfill the language requirements of any college. This is not the exac quirement of specific dies require two or s with more vear: it. One tral boy wh four vears of Latin still h Dartmouth conditioned (3) On the other hand, t leges require Latin any mu endowed colleges of the Harvard, Yale and Prince: three or four years modern language X demic course. This is required of every ap- plicant of nearly all of the best known women's colleg n Mawr, Mount Holyoke, Smith, ar and Wellesley. (4) That two vears of Latin and two of & modern language satisfy nearly any college. This co n meets the requirements of I engineer ing and scientific schools, but a few of the best (for instance, Massachu- setts Institute of Technology) their language requirements en in French and German. After their requirements have been me there is scarcely time for Latin In normal high school course. ast, like »n, require make | 0¥S who plan to st must take mechanical d shopwork. Nowhers are d, and in most technical ance credit is given for fted amount. It {s true of the excellent w ical drawing depart udents are dits for ad that pupils planning to 1 courses, home these sub The reverse is onal subfects are offerad to follos technical 2 for no vocational subjects taken in I T ect the results of t appreher when reached is often difficult, he dir 2 > part of the college nsists fn find college i vears of Latir it. with modern languages of time goes to helping given one or more a popular first- acceptable in es a heavy program in ~hool years or added tim tes who have had thi ica available for fou tinually arrive at t leges Tithout credential rector. Comes a telegram bureau or a special de- tter urging immediate atten- h season at the colleza . telegram finds a pila ications on the direc in due form. If rush ven preference, obvious- fer applicants are penalized. ipatient graduate fumes away e in the college town exe ed f n for the colleges will nc | tration without. day teley | not make the | to the ec t permit regis. Night appeals, Sun- 1s and telegrams can- eglecting the serv- |ice offered through four long yvears | “American pupils might as well fol- |low the example of a certain foreign | student who made the best kind ]“Fe of the college bureau,” says Sherman. “This student entered Cen- tral at a disadvantage, with irregular credits from English and continental chools. 1le secured tentative pro. ams for completing preparation for wrvard in two or three vears. 1le kept these copi returned with them to the college hureau for consultation from time to time, until his graduation d successful entrance into Har- Perfect Fool, Who Knows and Sees All, Answers a Few More Hard Questions BY ED WYNN. | EAR Mr. Wynn: T have my| laundry work done at a Ch nese laundry. 1 went there yesterday and was talking to one of the laundrymen about his native country. He told me of the earthquakes and floods they have there. / He sald that after the last earthquake in China the City of Hongkong looked Jjust like “Hell.” Do youbelleve that? Yours truly N. QUISITIVE. Answer: Well, some Chinamen have been in a lot of places. Dear Mr, Wynn: I have a very dear friend who has been acting strangely ever since his wife ran away with an engineer of a railroad train. Now, every time he hears a train whistle he gets very nervous and runs awa and hides himself. What do You think is wrong with him? Sincerely, G. WHIZZ. Answer: It is only natural that he should run away. An engineer stole his wife and ran away on a train with her, and now when he hears a train whistle he hides. Very simple. He's afrald the engineer is bringing his wife back. Dear Mr. Wynn: Can you tell me ‘what is meant when people say a certaln married couple are unspeak- ably hlppyy’.‘ ours, 0. HIGHO. Answer: When a married couple are referred to as being ‘“‘unspeakably equal in size to the Washington Mon- pick up speed. Curly turned to him with fury: “You're ' a hog, and for 2 cents I'd 4 His words stopped. You’d ‘what?” - snarled the lanky one, reaching swittly-to 'his hip:: It happened in the twinkling of an eye. Hardly had the “poor fellow" ument. A hamper containing the entire green bean crop of the United States, 105,000 tons, would be equal in cirl cumference and height to the Capitol of the United States, and a bag con- taining all the dry beans grown in one year weould be twice as large, happy” it means that they are deaf | and dumb. Dear Mr. Wynn: I have been ill for several months and my physician ‘wants to send me to the milk cure, in Afghanistan. Please tell me, “Is the milk good there?” Sincerely, HOPE SOH. Is _the milk good in Af- Why, cream isn't in it. Dear Mr. Wynn: I went into a fine cafe and ordered a cup of . but I refused to drink it. It looked just like “mud.” Can you tell me how or why a reputable cafe could serve coffee that looked lke “mud”? Answer: ghanistan? Truly yours, VIC BALVE. Answer: In all good eating places you will find the coffee looks like “mud” for the simple reason that the coffee is always ground right before it is cooked. Dear Mr. Wynn: I am the judge of a court in a small town. I don't get much salary and I have to buy all the things needed in_the room out of my wages. I had a Bible which I used for witnesses to kiss before glving evidence. Yesterday my bulldog chewed up the Bible. I 't afford to buy another one. What shall I do? Yours truly, JUDGE MEENOT. Answer: Keep the bulidog in the courtroom and let the witness kiss the dog. Dear Mr. Wynn: I have been in 10 drug stores but have been unable to get any bunion plasters. The drug- glsts all say they wouldn't have them in the place. Can you tell me why? Sincerely, I. M. A. HEEL. Answer: The reason the drug stores haven't any bunion plasters in their places is because the druggists are atraid of the law. There is a law against harboring foot-pads. Dear Mr. Wynn: Can you tell me the worst penalty imposed on a bigamist? In other words, what would be the severe penalty for a man marrying thres women? Truly yours, UNO AWL. Answer: 1lis penalty is having three mothers-in-law. Dear Mr. Wynn: A young man in- vited me to the Metropolitan Opera House, where they were singing the opera “Alda.” I went with him, but the minute we got in the theater he started talking to me and never stop- ped the entire evening. I couldn't tell you what the opera was about, as | he talked so much I only heard him. | He hes invited me again to go next | week to the opera “II Trovatore.” Shall T accept? Sincerely, 1. LOVEJOY. Answer: By all means accept and go with him, espectally if you have never heard him in “Il Trovatore.” Dear Mr. Wynn: Six months ago Y wrote Henry Ford asking him to lend me a million dollars. T have never heard from him in all this time. Do. vou belleve the old saying, “Silence gives consent”? Yours, I. DONTNO. A er next week. ED WYNN. (The Perfect Fool.) (Copyright, 1925.) All Green, if Possible. Will—What kind of wood do they make matches with? Bill—He would and she would. It doesn't seem possible that the hay fever, which was causing the cannibal chief such discomfort, was caused by his eating the grass widow.