Evening Star Newspaper, November 29, 1925, Page 98

| ik \ vl | I ) 1 ALK |’| vl,w v A By ALICE DUER MILLER 7 W, I Milly Was Spoiled and Headstrong, and Ned Had Always Been an Amiable Suitor— ) L " i j CY N MY time ment was s grandmother. >wadays we don't want our friends to me ir parties against their will,” answered Milly. M looked from her mother to times felt cr so sure ht and wrong, daughter feit either. Mrs mised; she be mother had B 1 cons daring!. "n mind the pof| he youn: the pe lerstand pe preferrin to go to the she said, “but I can't aid not t othy she or called out of town * her mother ald her grandmother. so tremendously inter- ested in this psychic—she thinks he has supernatural powers. To o dinner by him—" said Ahmud, T hope,” said the 1g by Mrs. Osborn's that it was, he went on: crook, Mrs. Osborn. these women—that's his psyehic power—he gets hold of em by telling them they are des- ned to experience a great and un- passion—and that they are . free souls who can do anything t to do. Why, a girl like h a little money of her own e—you oughtn't to let : can’t stop her,” sald Mrs. Stor- still in the role of gadfly. * ok ok K Osborn rose from the table— mer was over. “Of course, I “And add a lie to a rudeness aid [ can stop her, e said, without con- the old lady b “I don't a bit m ing that I ¢ do somethi Milly. “If she g plo wouldn't ct The two elde sitting at opy long table. N colored d. »m the was sitting a the table. She would seemed at 90, and mere Her hair w cate mixtu it grew wii with which auburn, face of eyes wer black stra much be Mrs. little Mrs. and ro but the: none in Mrs. Oshc Your moth truth was i Mrs. S amusing her wh “Ih Milly Mother thaed it when she get Doro before din send my that Mi sorry, Rer over n mother, and she raised | to see what such a speaking, us he name w is to be wiil—a mine—I can't but I got the 4 taken prisoner irates, or run | with by a S randee, or am “Heaven help the wdee,” said Mrs. Stormouth, “I hate these Near tellers,” sald Mrs. Osbo “Ahmud was born said Milly, “and he teller. Mother, he's College “professors cor point Milly glanced at t seelng it was almost which she had been with the great man, she without interrupting he which continued for sev to float back to the di “from all over to consul there's a bank pre: an investment without a vice, and 80 you see to be asked t dine with hi “Can you imagine,” said Mr mouth, selecting a n trom the silver bow! pr. “‘can you imagine being able to be leve all that nonsense, and not being able to believe e Ten Command- in the n 2d Mrs. Osborn. “Thi believe in an thing that they don't v in—any more than the they don’t want to do. I c stand how they can be so from what we were, Mother.” “Milly,” sald her g 1 exactly lfke me—exactly have been if I had been as brought up as you have up.” how the incre her bringing up 8 s | had been right, in | lberality between he her granddau When the doorbe | man entered Jor o | was wearl.s a dark overcoat, a silk | muifler to protect his c . 'and he held a derby hat in He bowed to the two ladies ia “I'm afraid I'm a I late, but I | don't suppose Miily's ready that."” | There was no use in putting it off. | Mrs. Osborn, observing of a tivity in her mother, and knowing that Mrs. Stormouth’s version would | he less conciliatory than her own, | hastened into speech Ned Vaughan stood his eyes fixed on Mrs. Osborn's his face, never a soft one, har visibly. "He was not a New Yorker came from New England, and } betrayed him “This is going rather too far,” he | sald, when she had fin 1 hadn't | meant to go to Dorothy’s t all. had asked a classmate who's only here for a few days to dine with | me, but Milly made such a_point of my taking her—Idiot that I was to | change any of my plans for he ! “And what are you going to do about it? sald the older lady. There | was & suggestion of a taunt iu her | | “What can I do about it—except to break off friendly relations’ *What good would t do?” *What good does anything do with | a person like Milly?" answered the | boy, bitterly. “Milly is devoted to you, Ned,” put in her mother. ‘“She depends on you enormously—it's only that she was hurried and she forgot. X Mrs. Stormouth gave a brief laugh. “If ehe had done it deliberately, it wouldn't be half as insult! she said. f { viction.” At least I shall go and tell 1t I disapprove of her going.” spoke quickly. “Pleast illy know that I'm here. the room with a somewhat ] very different rp, quick tread. > else dvesn't kidnap her wered the old lady. She Vaughan upstairs to the oom, and shut the door. she'sald, “are you going to vourself be treated like this?” ¢ looked at her, and said to him- he so often said before, ust have been a charming but that she was a now. Only, he the late Gen. Stormouth— before his marriage had_distin- Civil War—must have been a r man even than report sald. touk two or three long strides ie roum. He knew that Milly s sort of thing to other men S »ver done anything quite is to him before. He for r—ever since been transferred from the the New York office of h had immediately take each other and had met only at parties but at her was extraordinary, consider- uch Milly was out of her how_often she managed when Vaughan came. He of this as merely good he luck changed. Then to wonder whether Milly t changed a little. She as ever when they met, seemed to meet less often. noticed that nowadays her tence was usually an having been late, for letter unanswered, for ome one else to oc- belonged to him. atraid that as he fell more i obviously in love with her, ning to take him as a of course. This evening seem- make it perfectly clear. He ht to do something proud, force- virile—but what? w let me tell you something women,” said the old lady. » are two current theories: One y to be won by doglike It's not true. I believe encourage it in order to get for nothing, but it's not true. her is that women love a mas- That's not true either, but it has this element of truth in it-—it {sn't much that we love a master as that hate coward, and men are rds in their relations to 1 don't know why, but there is. My husband—an unusually ve ¢ would do anything, sub- to anything. rather than raise a t with he.” She seemed to find less understandable than Ned ut continued: “There is nothing d that women admire—no, or physical prowess, not success—as ey admire courage lition to themselves. I assure any man who loves a woman isn't afraid of her will suc- ceed nine times out of ten.” She held | finger. “It's a rare combina- ow, am T wrong in thinking have been letting Milly treat vou—well, how shall we put it—' Letting her get away with things? he suggested. “You're right. I have.’ What a lingo vou all speak,” she murmured. “Well, you have two W | courses open to vou—to go on like submitting tamely, and lose her 1ly; or to take violent discipli- ion and run the risk of losing immediately.” His eves lit up. *“And run the risk of winning her, too, you mean?” he safd Stormouth laughed out loud. well put,” she said. “Winning that child certainly would be a risk, » one knows better than I do.” It’s only the other one fear—Ios- er entirely.” There was a pause, and then he said: “It’s kind of you to bother about my troubles.” I won't deceive you,” she returned. “My interest is in my granddaughter. mething really must be done about her. & her mother is afrald of her, r ifraid of her than you are. hat seems to be the new idea in par- ents—dear They had still a few minutes alone in which to work out the details of their plot—assuming the probability hat her mother failed in her effort to stop Milly’s going to the seer's at all. * ok Kk ok 5. Oshorn came down presently, looking white and worn 4vith inxiety, but asserting that Milly had entirely relieved her mind—that she thought it was quite all right for the {child to go. At this Ned sald good night, shaking each lady by the hand. The older one sald to him: “There's 1 telephone in that little room off the nt door.” He nodded and was gone. Then Milly herself came down— very white and gleaming as to skin, with her reddish gold halr brushed and just a trace of irritation in her manner, as if it were somebody else's It that she was late. What time shall you be back, dear?” sald her mother. Mother dear!” said Milly, as if that were probably the most absurd ques- | ton in the world. Then she remem- bered she had arrangements to make 1nd slightly modified her manner. im going to that dance of the Car- ters’, and I'll stop in and get Marie and change my slippers some time. Tell her to be ready, will you, moth- er? Thank you so much.’ “How sweet you look, my dear. said her grandmother, raising her eyes from her book and appearing like the most innocuous old grandmother that ever was. Thank you, granny—'Approbation from Sir whoever-it-was'—good night,"” and Milly, wrapping a cloak of gold lined with blue about her, was out of the room. The car was waiting for her and the chauffeur, a bearded Frenchman, holding the door open for her was in the shadow. She spoke to him in her pretty French—giving the seer’s address in Charlton street and adding that she was just a little late. She always was just a little late, but she rarely confided the fact to Leon -—never except in cases of great emer- gency—for the reason that if she did he drove so fast that even she thought it_was dangerous. He dld not answer her, though he was usually voluble, but she did not notice his silence. She got in. She had just remembered about Ned. She did not know what it was that had suddenly brought him to her mind, but it all suddenly flashed upon her. If she hadn't been so very late for such an important occasion she would have gone back to the house again and left a message. As it was, her mother would explain. After all, Ned should have been at the house already He was very late—she thought severe. 1y of people who were not on time. Ned could hardly expect her to walt for him. Still she did feel a pang when she remembered that she had made him give up another engage- ment— * x x % AS she had only vague idess as to the whereabouts of Charlton street, she did not notice where it was that the car stopj.:d. She step. ped out, saylng over her shoulder “A dix heures et demie, s'il vous plait, Leon.” She knew she would not have wearied of her psychic ad venture until twelve, but her theory alwavs was to let the other people do the waiting. Then she glanced up at the house and saw to her surprise that it was Dorothy Morton's little house in Tenth street. She turned to expostulatq and found herself sud- denly selzed round the shoulders and under the knees, borne across the side walk, up the two steps of the house and through the front door which had opened as the car drew up. What were the feelings of Mrs. Mor- ton's butler on seeing a belated guest carried in by her chauffeur will never known; probably he assumed that Miss Osborn had sprained her ankle. He betrayed no surpri The hall was small. The chauffeur set the oung lady down, snatched her cloak rom her shoulders, and seemed uc- 1y to propel her through the draw- room door. Then he hastily left house, and in an incredibly short awce of tima young Mr. Vaughan ame running up the steps, panting a lttle, and was ushered into the drawing room, too, He entered rapidly, as was natural in a punctual man half an hour late; he entered with no flurry whatsoever, which was less natural in a man who ust snatched off a false heard and a chuffeur’'s cap and overcoat and has put his whole life to the test This was the critical moment. He needed more courage in this moment than in the earlier processes of the adventure. How would he find Milly's state of mind? Would she be In a rage, repudiating the whole incident and rushing away to her psychic? Or delaying an instant for the satis. faction of having her scene with him then and there before everybody? Or —delirfous thought—might he find her accepting the situation fully, and offering some wonderful explanation of her own invention? Well, he came in and looked at her, and did not know. She was standing in the center of a group, and she was silent—deeply, portentously silent. Dorothy was saying, ortunately T had not even got your first message to say you weren't coming before your second one arrived, and so the man did not grouble with efther until, finding you were so late, I told him to call up vour house and ask—— Oh, Ned,” she broke off, “there you are. I knew Milly would bring you.” It hadn’'t been quite like that, he thought, but it was no time for being funny. He glanced at Milly. Her face had a blank, expectant look, such as you see in the face of a lost child in the streets of some large city when policemen and passers-by bend down to elicit its name and address; it is not exactly fear nor surprise; it is more like a biologlcal effort to adapt itself to new conditions. He wondered if, after all, Milly was not a ruthless girl as he had thought her, pursuing her own way against all opposition, but rather an aimless child to whose inner consciousness no words of ad- monition had so far penetrated. Only deeds perhaps could do that. He did not approach Milly after din- ner until late in the evening, when al- most every one had gone. Then, com- ing back from seeing one of the girls into her taxi, he conveyed to Milly a piece of information he thought she might be interested to know “Leon is there now, Milly,” he said. It was the first time they nad spoken. “Leon himself?" she asked quletly. “Leon himself.” She rost at once and said good- night. He followed “or. She made no objections, not eve hen he got into the car after her. ‘luey started in silence on their long drive uptown. Ned, his arms folded, stared out of his window and she, propped up, as it were, in her own corner, sat looking down at her hands folded In her lap. The town was as nolsy as it usually is about 11 o'clock, but somehow an area of complete stillness seemed to envelop the car. At last she sald: “Have you any logy to make to me, Ned?” 0, my dear,” he answered, in much the same tone. A few blocks more, and she asked as a person might speak while mourn- ing over something valuable which has been utterly ruined and defaced, “Oh, why did you do such a thing?" He did not answer, and she went on: “What made you think it was your | job to undertake my reformation?" ““I wasn’t thinking about your refor- mation, Milly.” She did not betray her profound satisfaction at this; she only said again, “Then why did you do it?"” “I did it,” he replied, “for the same reason that men used to fight duels— Just to make a demonstration at any cost that there are certain things they won’t have done to them.” “You know what the cost is in this case; everything's over. f course I faced that possibility,” he answered. She glanced at him. It was not the way she was accustomed to hearing » that it shone like a brass fender, Iim epeak. The tower at Thirty- fourth street gave a red wink and | turned green, and the car stopped as if automatically. * Kk kX NED was no psychic, like Ahmud; he could not read Milly's manner. He still did not know whether he had lost or won—indeed, he thought he had lost. But, like the Babylonian king In the poem who had the un- fortunate adventure with the Chris- tian slave, he regretted nothing. He felt that something more honest and dignified and real than had ever been in their relation before had come to 1t now. If it was to be the end, it was a fine ending. ‘They stopped in front of the Stor- mouth house. He got out; she got out. She turned to Leon, and asked him to wait—she was going on in a few minutes. Ned saw his chance. “Oh, it's the Carters’, isn't {t?"” he sald. “T believe I'll go in there for a minute myself.” He took off his hat. “Good-night, if I've left before you get there." . “Good-bye,” answered Milly, signifi- cantly, and went into the house. She went slowly and thoughifully up the first flight of stairs. She did not understand him at all-—not so much his moment of folly in taking her to Dorothy’s, but his subsequent conduct—his not asking to come in. She had been counting on that. She had been going to refuse, with a final insulting coldness, but yet if he had insisted—— Did it mean that he was ready to accept her ultimatum? She had forgotten that such a per- son as her grandmother existed, but as she passed the door of the lighted drawing room she heard a cheerful voice call, “Well, had you an interest- ing evening?" Milly admired her grandmother tre- mendously, but she admired her as she admired dead heroes—people who had reacted splendidly to their own times, but whose opportunities for ac- tion were now completely over. It suddenly occurred to her that she would tell her grandmother the whole story; it would probably shock the old lady, and yet it was just possible that the wisdom of 71 years might be a help. She came slowly into the room, ana let her cloak drop on a chair. *I had a peculiar evening,” she answered. “And what did the seer tell you?" asked M tormouth, with an air of almost childlike interest. “I did not go to Ahmud's.” Stormouth exclaimed over the ations of the younger generation. cut her short by an uncolored tive of exactly what had taken randmother was deeply attentive, following ery turn of the story with little cockings of her he: She interrupted only once. 1) me,” she said. “A false beard! wonder where he could have got | “There’s & b und the uid M1 rd to do it, granny, but how ts me. Tell me—I sometimes think that you and I sre rather alike in some ways —can 1 _ever forgive him for doing such a thing to me?” rtainly not,” said Mrs. Stor mouth. A man must approach you respectfully—on his knees it were en it you were absolutely in the wrong- o “Which,” said Milly, in a queer deep low voice, “1 wa “I should have died rather than admit it,” said the old lady “Tha was our code.” She gave a prc ake of head. e ok THE irl was disappointed. All t was free and modern, honest unaffected in_her, rebelled at suc barren sacrifice—llke w ing a nu up, she thc ht, or dueling Aloud she sald: “That's an sheurd code granny, according to modern ideas.” “All codes are absurd,” saild Mrs Stormouth. “That's what makes it such en achievement to live by them vou sacrifice everything to an ab. surdity—what could be finer?” Milly was sorry she had spoken about the matter at all. She moved neross the room and rang for the mean to say,” she that In your day would have stuck out for your own dignity —suppose, I mean, you began to think that you loved a man?" “I should not have permitted myself to love a man who had treated me with so much_disrespect.” Milly_kicked off her slippers and thrust her feet with energy Into the little pair of dancing shoes that the maid brought in. “Well, thank heaven, nowadays we're human beings, not walking codes,” she sald and flinging her golden cloak about her once more she left the room and the house. Her grandmother heard the door of the motor slam. More than an hour passed, when a faint shuffling step was heard on the stair and Mrs. Osborn in dressing gown nad slippers came into the room {Really, mamma dear,” she said, with the 'suppressed irritation in her tone that we all use 8o often to those we truly love, “it's after 1 o'clock »u_ought to be in bed.” “Charlotte,” sald her mother, “I will tell you something that ought to be a great comfort to you—there are simply wonderful moments in old age —times when you see the whole pat tern so clearly that you are compen- sated for not being part of it any more.” “I can’t see why Milly hasn’t come in,”" said Mrs. Osborn exactly as if her mother had not spoken. “I feel dreadfully worrled after all Ned sald about this psychic.” “Oh, T understood you to say that Milly had entirely relieved your mind when you permitted her to go,” said the old lady; but as she was not really malicious at heart, she presently told her daughter the whole story as it had fallen from Milly's own lips. She did not tell her anything which might have suggested that she—a venerable white-haired woman of 71 had had anything to do with the illiclit ad- venture—partly because she wished the young man to have all the credit, partly because she fancied that Char- lotte would identify herself entirely with her child and be angry. But a strange aspect of the overin- dulgent parent now presented itself. Mrs. Osborn, far from being angry, was delighted; her face lit up. It was as if she saw some one doing some- thing she had always longed to do or have done. ‘m delighted,” she said, “I admire Ned for doing it. I suppose, mamma, it shocks you.” Mrs. Stormouth looked at her daugh- ter. She was thinking that while she knew all about the late Mr. Os- born's courtship of Charlotte and a good deal about Ned's courtship of Milly, no one now living knew any- thing about young Capt. Stormouth’s courtship of her. “The best story of the three,” she thought, slightly nodding her head. Her daughter was going on: “These young people are so utterly unromantic. I don't suppose it ap- peals to Milly as anything but an out- rage, but—I've never told this to any- one. before—it was always my dream to have a man run off with me, mam- ma, without giving me any choice, you know." “‘My dear,” sald her mother, a little bored, as she sometimes was by her child, “it's every woman's dream to be run away with by the right man. The trouble 1s that the people who are driven to these tremendous actions are usually the wrong ones.” * w ok ¥ BEFORE very long a key grated in the front door, and then the quiet black-coated figure of Marie slipped discreetly past the drawing-room door, not supposing that any one would be up at such an hour—and then from downstairs a low and extremely inter- mittent whispering began to come. “Do_you know what they're talk- ing about?” sald Mrs. Stormouth. “No, Charlotte, of courss you don't. I'll tell you. They are discussing whether they shall come up and tell us, or keep it as a delightful secret for a few days.” 5 “You mean she has decided to marry him?" sald Mrs. Osborn, open- ing her eyes. ““What else did you think I had been telling you all this time?” “You never mentioned the word marriage.” “Neither have they, very lkely,” said Mrs. Stormouth, “but that’s the Her daughter looked at her with "BE KNOWN. Mrs, mouth sm| bout to tell you that you w : too, when you were my I 1| belleve it would be unfair t hope out to you.” from her corner glimpse of the up the stairs, v ike an | on wings, and | granny.” Her grandmother raised her should- “It was the Chri nd her mouth irresistibly to a smile at the ners. | ers old lady looking | do, I suppose, Washington Hebrew Congregation dropped a veil over her she entered she w “Do you despise me for it, Gr girl asked softly “Forgive him!" cried Mrs. Ost ‘I think you ought to be grate him—the “most g heard for a long time.” “It was rather | stairs”” sald her mother. “Downstairs? ht me home, returned, oh, n after a second's concentrated thought she something must be this statement and she added Il I decided to forgive him, anything who amuses stretched her long slim a an elaborate yawn.and, kissing her two ancestors, went off to bed preten that she was sleep: The word amus: born disagreeably. were unromantic, mamma. They are utterly different from g struck Mr: I told you tian_thing to she answered. Will Celebrate Its 70th Anniversary (Continued from Third Page.) congregation, which has since re mained true to orthodoxy e cession was a blessing in disguise,” Rabbl Simon points out, for “it brought unity, harm and an In- tensification of the religious consclous- ness “The congregation was now com- mitted to reform and historical Juda ism, and it has consistently kept to that standard of a_happy medium,” Rabbi Simon declares. Rev. Michael Goldberg then took charge for one year, and his regime is noteworthy for institution’ for the first time of ti onfirmation ceremony. From 1872 to 1920, a perfod of 48 years, the congregation’s history was dominated by the greatly loved Rev. Louis Stern. He found the congreg: tion struggling mightily under t heavy burden of self-maint relieved it. Under his min a steady and successful forward move- ment. The Jastrow-Szold ritual was introduced in 1873 and met the grow- ing needs. The temple was rebuflt in 1877 and again in 1888, at which later date the dedication sermon was preached on April 16 by Dr. Szold. By this time the membership had climbed to 161. ] ok ok CARCELY another decade rolled by before the desire and demand w: expressed for larger and more com modious quarters in keeping with the dignity of the first Jewish con- gregation in the ation’s Capital. Henry King, jr., reported on the wis dom of this step in 18983, and in the Spring of 1897 the president’s enthu slasm and courage won. With the hearty support of the Young People's Temple Society, the foundation of the New Temple (the one now occupled) was laid on September 15, 1897, amid | song, praise and impressive ceremon- | {al. The foy of this occasion was height- | ened by the distinguished presence of President McKinley and his Cabinet, this distinction having been secured through the efforts of the late Simon Wolf. “Nor was the joy unalloyed,” says Rabbl Simon, for “the moving spirit of the building-president was absent. On August (just one month before the corner stone was laid) Henry King was translated to the On High, not built of human A marble slab in the vestibule testi- fles to the congregation’s love, and the Temple itself is considered monu- mental of Mr. King’s sacrifice, service CHARLES GOLDSMITH, PRESI DENT OF THE WASHINGTO! HEBREW CONGREGATION., vious observed the 25th anniversa of his local ministry. ship of the congregation and loyalty in the cause of Judalsm and to his congregation. successor was found in I. L. Blount, who had been in the serv. ation since 1862 in every ca- The memb When Dr. Stern had completed 30 years of ministry for the Washing- ton Hebrew Congregation and re-elected for five more years as min- | ister, in 1903, a committee wa potnted to consider the advisab of engaging an auxiliary a result Rabbi Abram then president school board, was called to the Capi- | > tal from Temple Israel Nebr., in February, 1904, since which date 'he has Washington acceptable as | leader, but has also been a most help citizen in the Nation's Car His introductory discourse to the con- | Bregation is still well remembered as a masterly oration on “The Valley of Dry Bones.” Dr. Simon's concept of the charac ter and duties of the congregation is “Wa are fortunately situ- ated in this District,” he says. ** ington has a right to have a most representative temple has a_moral right to leader- ship in Jewish affairs. in this Capital is a 1 accident; it must, deserve the intellectual and r vantage ground by enthusfastic work a deepening of sclousness, by a whole-hearted patri otism and by a wholesome desire and on to be of service to the la congregation of Israel.” Last September t to successful completion and dedication on Septmber 9, 1898. templa stands grounds as the older ones. consisted of William Hahn, chairman; I. L. Blount, S. Bie- Behrend, Meyer Sindheimer upon the same Max Kaufman, With the growth of business in that with the numbers of the congregation and their temple-com- munity activities multiplying, it is the fond hope of leaders in the congrega- that before the celebration of the Diamond Jubilee, funds will be sufficlent to justify the erec- tion of a magnificent edifice on Colum- bia Heights which will be a visual of the standing of the Jewlish people in the National Capital and their zeal for its development and beautification. dedication of the present Temple, Miss Ray Hahn delivered the key on the presentation of the building her father, and it was accepted The Perpetual Light Past President Gus- dorf. The oration was by Dr. Henry Berkowitz of Philadelphia. dress was made by The sermon was by Dr. Abram Isaacs of New York. The longtime rabbi, Dr. Louls Stern, spoke feelingly to those who had labored so long with in the varfed activities of the having the year pre- congregation Its situation by Mr. Blount. was lighted by however, win and its Jewish con the congregation decided to give Dr. Simon an assist- congregation, n good condii 1 Rev. Harry L. Kron. officers of the temr h, pres president; er; Joseph hram Simon, istees, Adolph ob Brock: board “Joseph Goldenberg, rson Dr, ler, vice er, second vice Herman Hollander, Mrs. Sol Herzog, Edw. Heidingsfeld, nd Mrs. Bernard nding secretary. The officers of the alumni are: Hen. resident; Miss Irma president; Henry King, col secretary; Miss Ruth secretary, and Howard nteresting features ces is the very ex- Lewis Atwater as r; John Marville, Robert O'Lone, tenor; Mrs, alto, and Mrs. Flor- -ano R Fault Detector. RAPID analyses of materials In the the use of X-rays shorter time than required chemical methods is of. Urbain of the al laboratory at the Sor- nce Magazine, Eugene De- eted a series v method. sed is composed of ad screen in which t has been pierced; a_“selec- as a_ fllter for the tand to hold the piece to be to measure the radiation received— being indicated b n illuminated to be in the beam, and when it is on, the spot of light re- but if a fault in the the electrometer By recognized , the deviation is pre mount of the fault this method the aults can be detected. RABBI ABRAM SIMON,