Evening Star Newspaper, June 27, 1926, Page 72

THE TAME CA'T THE SUNDAY' STAR. WASHINGTON, D. O, JUNE 27, 1926—PART 5. eeplYE ARTHUR SOMERS ROCHE © “Where Was the Woman Who Could Understand Him?”’ Was His Ouefy to the World ROM the height of the land ing on the second floor, his ion at the bar and twen- ty-four vears, Mr. Roderick Dory looked down upon the throng of merrymakers. They danced; they sang: some of them, un. mindful of the more serious things of life, flirted. Mr. Dory felt a dis- taste, a weariness, steal over his soul. Life was tremendous n thing, There was so much to be done and so brief a time in which to do it Still, and he smiled tolerantly, he must not censure these people, these friends of his. severely the men: Jim was in a and leather j use: no one in the world v call to so prosaic a life work o Sweeney tant cashier in a bank; his s destined to be spent dealing ever had a had been read Frank Blais nything be The rest of the men and spiritually on a their vocations were even their avocs 1l meaning rtificial society r: could r the girls shrugged . “lighty siHy, v Lacking in understanding. in ciation e lighte cigarette the tolerance of smile more pronounced. Children! Tp the ding st that from the great living room the Markham Summear home to the floor ahove came his hostess. The ru of silk and the scent of perfume marked her prog Roderick’s eyes lighted at her coming. She was not silly, vapid and flighty: she was one who understood the serious things of life, who realized that the ma- terial matters which engross the at tention of most of us are but fluff in the wind created by the rush of the spirit. Thus he characterized her. rather p with his meta- phor. Her thirty years lent her dignity. a graclousness of manner, that, thought Roderick, set her apa from her frivoling zuests She paused at the top of the flight of stairs. The subdued lighting of the landing set off to advantage her plump figure. She was fat: her hest friend would not have said that she was; she simply had arrived at «a not unpleasing maturity of outline. Her blonde hair, in soft waves around her face, seemed to the eves of the infatuated youth an angelic aureole. She saw him and her small mouth curled in a smile. “Roderick.” she breathed. Mrs Markham had the happy facuity of putting excitement into her most eommonplace remarks. That is, the faculty seemed happy to one not well acquainted with it. Her husband, for instance he i ppr and d ok % % UDDENLY Roderick's collar tight, the white shirt of his eve ning dress seemed to constrict which were havfhg difficuity in con- taining a bounding heart. A flush stole swiftly from his Adam's apple to the tips of his ears. He swallowed smoke, and his consequent coughing did nothing to assuage his embarrass- ment. He rose and stood stiffly, like a clumsy recruit in the presence of his officer. He realized more acutely than ever before in his life that h! hands were too large and too red. It is quite possible that the lady sensed his embarrassment, even that it g1 fied Rer. “What are you doing all by self, Roderick?” she asked. you like my house party She was a woman who could impart flirtation to Such commonplaces as “More tea?" or “What time is it>" She was keenly aware of the fact that | she was of the faminine sex. and she gave no man excuse for being unaware of it. There were reproach, covness and timidity subtly mingled in her tones. She sank down gracefully in the arm- chair which Roderick had vacated at her coming and looked archly up at her young guest. In the dim light of the landing she didn't look, Roderick | toid himself, a minute over 15. As a | matter of fact, he was extremely glad that she was not 18. He was sick to death of girls of his own age or younger. What ' did_they know? What did they feel” Giggles! That's all they amounted to. Even Eloise Dennison, danoing down below there, of whom recently he had begun to have some hope, was little different from the rest of them. Hadn't she nicknamed Rod- erick “Mr. Chief Justice"? After all, the law {8 perhaps the most dignified of the professions, and it ill became a silly girl to make fun of one of its votaries. It was quite true that Rod- erick had been admitted to the only last month. Nevertheless ought to understand that the law v his sacred calling and shou it lightly. Giggles! Silly pid! Such were girls But women—women of poise, dis- cernment, undersianding—these were different. And when a woman, ar- rived at a delicious maturity, stiil re- taining her beauty—well, she cer- vapid, stu- became | 3 led | le | | 2 moment seemed | ribs | not frown upon such an overture to intimacy. He did so. She took his right hand in her own left hand. She squeezed it gently. Then she patted it. A base, crude, material person would have judged that the lady was nat averse to flirtation. But a man like Roderick could tell that behind this physical manifestation was only sweet, sisterly gentleness. He felt honored, exalted, that she understood him so well, that she knew he would place no low interpretation on her im- pulsive action | “I'm an old woman,” she said; “but still I thought “0ld!” fle was incredulously indig nant. “Why, I think that you're just right “You only say that to flatter me,” she said. “Honest, when 1 saw you and Mr. Markham together I thought that were his daughter,” cried Roderic One guesses that Roderick is some- what unskilled in the playing of inter ludes such as this; there is a certain lack of suavity in his touch. One gathers, too, that the lady is one who cares little about style; it is the effect which she craves. She may be an ac- | complished technician herself, but she. ¢ finds it unnecessary to use her learning now: nor does she seem intled at Roderick’s lack of Hasr. ighed, not honestly, gustily, as might after a hard set of ten- but as one whose exhalation s more of the soul of the lungs Markham is consider she admitted. considerably older than you.” “I don’t guess that any one would take me for your son,” said Roderick. He thought that the remark held a certain taciturn wit. Yet he was con- scious of a certain asperity in the lady’s manner. He tried to redeem himself. “I look & lot older than I am,” he declared. He became sud- denly daring. “People would be more liable to think that 1 was your hus- band than Mr. Markham." RS. MARKHAM had invited Roderick to her house party for a definite purpose. He was an ex tremely personable youth, and if there was a heaviness in his speech and manner, one granted forgiveness be- cause of his good looks. She laughed, indulgently. “What a silly v older ut 1'm Yet there was nothing of rebuke for his presumption in her tone. He took courage unto himself. I don't think ou're silly,” she told him Her hand touched his again, lingered She breathed deeply, but more lightly, Roderick thought, than would have been possible to any other woman whom he knew. Her breath seemed perfumed. How it happened he never knew, but suddenly their lips ! met and clung together. Her hands went finally to his breast and pushed him away. *“I told you that you were silly,” she said. “You mustn’t do that again. Noble woman! Kindly, generous soul! Miracle of understanding! She forgave him! He could tell it by her volce, despite the rebuke of her words. “1 won't, Mrs. Markham. 1 give you my word—I don’t know how it hap | pened—I meant to hide my love—" “You mustn't ever mention it again,” she told him. “Here you've spoiled a lovely friendship.” “Don't saysthat,” he whispered. He was in an agony of despair. He had sinned outrageously against the di- vine purity of this woman. He had thought himself master of his own emotions: he had sneered at men who had yielded to such impulses as had just ‘mastered him: he had thought himself strong and now he knew him- self to be weak. And vet, as his be- wildered brain strove for clarity of thought, it seemed to him that he re. membered. that her lips had returned his Kiss, that she had not been averse to his embrace. He put the hideous thought from him, and the fact that he thought it hideous is sufficient proof of his youth. For he could not concelve it possible that the lady of his adoration could possibly have vielded to an impulse similar to his own. She was too chaste for anything like that. And that she had vielded to no impulse but had carefully con- trived the happening was something that would never of its own volition have entered the head of Roderick “I'll tell you what I'll do,” she told him. “I'll forget that it happened. Will you do the same?" He ‘met her blue eyes bravely. I can never forget,” he told her. “This moment shall live forever in my heart. T know that my love is hopeless, but T shall cherish it just the same.” “I shan’t mind that,” she breathed. you must try to forget.. Some ow'll meet a lovely girl and be Roderick’s lips curled in a sneer at the possibility. He would dedicate his whole life to her, and some day when he was old and gray and the State and Nation had honored him with their highest tainly could be a lot more interesting to a thinking male than any flighty thing like Eloi “Of course, 1 1i he answered. “Then why do hide?” she chided. ke your house party,” you run off and FIFTY YARDS FROM SHORE HENLEY AND SWEENEY DASHED He frowned heavi “Thinkin’,” he announced. Mrs. Markham tapped him on the arm with her fan. You mustn't,” she rebuked him. I invited vou out here hecause wanted you to rest your poor taxed brain. Of course, I realize that 1ne party is a bit young for you, but still T hope that 1 She paused prettily. “Oh, you. of course Roderick blushed again. Mrs. Markham's hand aressed the wide arm of the chair. en one so unversed as Roderick id gather the impression that if he ould sit upon the arm she would I over- | SpesgNE was rude. “Looka here, Rod Dory she cried, stopping abruptly in the middle of a two-step, “'I know at least 16 handsome youths who like to dance with me. Three or four of them ar in the room now. If this exercise is killing you, let's stop right now.” “I am not aware of having ex pressed any disinclination to dance with you, Eloise,” he said. She stared at him. When she stated that at least 16 youths liked to dance with her, she was gullty of no exaggeration. She was tall, her eyes being on a level with Roderick’s mouth; they were beautiful gray eyes, too; her figure was slim and graceful, and her abil ity to play five sets of tennis after 18 holes of golf had not made her limbs lose thelr lovely roundness. One had to feel her forearm to realize that such delicate flesh could be so mus cular. Her hair, black and long, pos- sessed a natural wave that was the envy of the girls of her acquaintance. Her mouth may have been a shade too wide for exact conformation to the measurements of beauty, but its mer- ry curves, the redness of her lips and the whiteness of her even teeth made any man—save Roderick—forget the possible blemish. It was such a gen erous mouth. mirthful, sweet. Her nose was tilted the least bit and her forehead was broad and not too high for beauty. All in all, Eloise Denni son was a beauty, an enslaver of men “Say, Rod, you haven't suddenly ac- quired ‘4 swell head, have you?" she asked. “You talk as though you thought you were at least five of the seven judges on the Supreme Court. Just because Mrs. Markham holds vour hand a minute, don’t think you're unique.” ‘That {s a most insulting insinua- tion,” he told her severely. ‘Dismount from that high horse, Rod,” she ordered. “Don’t forget that I've known you for at least 21 of my 22 years, and that I've seen you with measles and scgrlet fever and chicken pox and that Bcan read your symp- toms as I can my own.” Dignity fell away from him as one discards a cloak. Why on earth was Eloise always included in every party that he attended? Just because he'd known the girl all his life was no rea- son for people to think that he liked her. Yet here, at the Markham's was Eloise, as she would be at every other house’ party this Summer, at every dance, at every dinner. She made him tired. She had always made him tired. She always would make him tired. He wished to goodness that his sister Angela would quit chumming with her. Just because they were neighbors was no reason that they should be inflicted with each other all their lives. Tt was bad enough having a family that thought it knew all about you, without having a gangling gawk of a girl who was no relation acting as though she possessed all in- formation, “I can réad your symptoms, too,” he sald sulkily. “You're jealous be- cause Mre. Markham is prettier. All you girls are. And I think it's ex- tremely bad taste to discuss one's hostess and to make insinuations about her. Considering that she's probably one of the mnoblest wom- en— Eloise raised her hands and bent Roderick's head forward. She kissed him swiftly. “I like you just as much as though you really had sense,” she told him. Tomy Sweeney came up and claimed Elotse. ot that 1 want to break in on a charming little scene like this, but spooning is not being done this vear in public. If you two must make love, go out on the veranda. It's a wonder you wouldn't announce your engagement, anyway He awept Eloise away with him and Roderick walked from the room. Out on the veranda the cool breezes from the water seemed to allay his fever of wrath. After all, he must not per- mit anger at Elofse to blast and utter- ly destroy a moment so precious as the one that had just passed. Never- theless, he wished that all his friends would quit their calm assumption that he was in love with Eloise. Kvery- one assumed it, commented on it, joked about it.” He had, been too chivalrous to deny it in the past; in the future he would make it emphat- jcally clear that he didn't even like her. She made him tired with her idle, senseless conversation. He was annoyed when the music ceased and from the living room poured forth the guests. Some one had suggested a moonlight swim and the suggestion had been hailed with high approval. Roderick accepted the {nvitation to join the others when he discovered that Mrs. Markham was going in. o HE Markham estate was a preten- tious place. There were acres of lawns and gardens, and on the beach were elaborately equipped bathhouses. The water was just cool enough to be pleasant. But Roderick took no part in the sports of the others. He slipped — judicial offices, he would come to her and tell her that because no other woman had ever entered his life he had been able to give himself wholly to his profession; that whatever honor he had attained was due to the shin- |ing image of herself which always leamed before his mental vision. | Something of this, indeed. he tried {to put into words, but she stopped him. She ordered him to join the others, dancing to the strains of the phonograph. D x ok K * |& DW crude seemed Eloise! There S"l in her manner none of the Markham; hepspeechy £ Mrs, lithely into the sea and began swim- ming straight out from shore. Faintly he heard the gay shouts of the others near the shore. He knew | that Eloise was leading in the gayety. A crass soul, Eloise. She had sneered at her hostess, but that violation of the ates of good breeding would not bother Eloise. He forgot Eloise, put her easily from his thoughts; he dwelt in fancy upon the romantic episode of the landing above the living room. Treading water he stared at a dot ahead. He saw a white arm gl . Somehow it seemed feminine./ > l He turned, starting to swim away. Then a reluctant chivalry made him retrace his aquatic course. After all he and Eloise were several hundred vards from shore. There was always the possibility of exhaustion, of cramp. He swam toward her. Darn her! Why wasn’t she like normal girls? Only a female athlete would do such a reck- stunt as this. Nice modest girls ed around the beach: didn't try to make men of themselves. Then sud denly as he came nearer he saw, in Sheen of the moonlight, a glint of gold escaping from the embracing rubber cap. It was Mrs. Markham! He should have known it. Who but she of this house party had the daring, the spirit, the ability to swim this far? A mag- nificent woman: there was about her none of the namby-pamby babyishness that characterized Kloise and the girls of her type and set. And the nobility of her, swimming 'way out here to tell him, doubtless, of her for- getfulness of what had occurred. He reached her side. They both treaded water, facing each other. “You're a naughty boy, Roderick,” she breathed. “Alwa) running away from those who love you.” If you really love me.” he told her, “you'd not tell me so and make life harder for me.” “Naughty! You musn't talk like 1 came out here to tell you that had forgotten what happened.” His heart ached at the sheer mag nificent nobility of her soul. “Of course, T know you don't love me, told her. “But for a moment coming out here—I misunderstood. “Do you think it's nice to “misun- derstand me”’" she asked. He groaned in deep abusement of spirit. Here she had forgotten his monumental sin, and he was remind- ing her of it. She touched him on the arm. ‘The there, Roderick, T told vou it was all forgotten. Don’t badly. How strong you are added inconsequentially. *I had no iden your arms were so powerful What™ a magnificent swimmer you are.” “You're wonderful vourself,” he an swered. “None of those girls back on the beach would dare swim out here alone at night. I like & woman who's athletis “That's right, Roderick. I want you to be brave and forget all that's hap- pened. But I'm not really so very strong. 1 risked coming out here he- cause I knew that vou'd be able to bring me back if T grew tired. I saw you leaving the others and I didn’t know what rash thing you might do." “I had thought of ending it all,” ad mitted Roderick gloomil Her other hand impulsively touched his arm. “Roderick! You must not have such thoughts. You mustn't be 80_naughty.” s Somehow he wished that she wouldn't use the word ‘‘naughty” so frequently, It made him feel young, whereas he knew himself to be ex- tremely old. ow that I know you've forgotten, I won't think such things,” he promised. “Where did you learn that side stroke” Perhaps he changed the subject too abruptly: it has already been stated that Roderick had little technique in amour. At any rate, the lady's hands slipped away from his shoulders. “Come,"” she sald. For a moment they swam along in silence. Then her easy stroke bhegan to be labored; she began to splash the water through which she had been gliding so easily. If Roderick was stupid in certain matters, nevertheless there were other things that he under- stood. Swimming was one of them. “You're tired,” he declared. “Put your hands on my shoulders.” She did as he commanded. “You are so strong,” she breathed. This time Roderick did not get the thrill from the touch of her hands upon him that he had a little while ago. Stern reality drove romance from his mind. Fifty yards from shore, Henley and Sweeney dashed ino the water. They helped Roderick carry the faint- ing lady to the beach. But their as- sistance could not deprive him of the credit for her rescue. The congratu- lations of the other guesats and the thanks of his hostess lifted him to the stars. that. 1 e N his room a little later he tried to sleep. Yet sleep would not come to him. He rose from the bed and walked to the open French windows that led from his room to a porch out- side. He stepped out upon that porch. Then, through an open window, voices floated to him. He recognized the tones of his host. He recognized also the tones of his hostess. He was a gentleman and eavesdropping was obnoxious to him. But before he could arise he had heard so much that no dictate of gentle conduct could make him depart. “Look here, Jenny.” said Mr. Mark- ham, “1 don’'t mind your making a blame fool of most people, but let that Dory boy alone. He's a nice kid. you must kiss in the corner and have your life saved every week end, pick out men. Mrs. Markham laughed. ‘“You're an old dear, Sam,” she sald, “but wouldn't you rather I'd flirt with stupid boys than with grown men?" There was amused exasperation in the husband’s reply. “I'd prefer you not to flirt with any one, you little rescal, but I know you can't help it.” The wife laughed saucily. “Any 'TO THE WATER. THEY HELPED RODERICK CARRY THE FAINTING LADY TO THE BEACH. 5 other man in the world would prob- ably divorce me, 8am Markham.” The husband growled. trousers is a challenge to you, differently ship. Divorce vou? 1 may spank you, but that's all. I understand you. But young Dory is really too good a sort to get a heartbreak.” His wife laughed incredulously. “Don’'t worry, Sam. He's head over heels in love with Eloise Dennison. He just doesn’t know it. I'm just an in- terlude.” “If 1 didn’t know that everything that wears 1'd feel But you simply have to make every man bow down and wor- “Any one can see that the little fool is in love with her. But he's a proud kid, and if he ever finds out that vou're probably the best woman swim- mer on the coast and that you made a monkey of him with this silly rescue business, he'll never forgive you.” His wife laughed. “He'll never find out.” “Well, quit makiug a tame cat of him,” commanded her husband. Probably there was more; Roderick did not wait to hear it. Silently he rose, went into his resm and dressed himself. He packed his bag and crept stealthily down stairs. He caught, at dawn, a milk train into the city. A tame cat! That's wnat he was, was he? His face burned at the insult. A plaything of a silly woman. He'd never look at any woman again as long as he lived. He laughed scorn- fully as he thought what they had said about his feeling toward Eloise Dennison. As if it were possible for a man to be in love with a girl and not know it' He was 24. He did not know that at that age to be unaware of one's love i the most natural thing In the world, and that every vouth must sooner or later, be a tame cat. His mirror may tell him that he is a libn bui the mirror les. (Copyright. 18 Our Rainfall. VIVID picture of the amount of 6.1 States is given by a Washington sclentist. It is equivalent, he states, to 10 Mississippi rivers flowing con Otherwise measured, it equals 30 inches of water for the entire area, making a total volume of 152,000,000,000,000 cubic feet. But this is only .half the amount that would be necessary to maintain the full productivity of the soil of the whole country. One-third of this amount runs down to the in rivers. The problem for the engineers to solve is the utilization to the utmost rain that falls upon the United | of the supply that nature furnishes. ELOISE RAISED HER HANDS AND | | BY UTHAI VINCENT WILCOX. HILE President Coolidge is enjoying his vacation the White House will again be repaired, for it needs it The recent estimate indi- cating that the mansion needed a new roof which woukl cost some $300.000 gave the public some idea of the up- keep cost of the great building. A check of figures at the Treasury De partment indicates that since the offi-! cial residence of the Presidents of the United States was first built on the site it now occupies taxpayers have contributed nearly $8.000,000 for build- ing, care, repair and refurnishing at various times. . This sum of eight million does not take into consideration more than $1.000,000 additional expended at various times for a variety of pur- poses. To include the miscellaneous amounts and the refurnishings last Summer and the repairs now contem- plated would bring the total cost of the President’s House to date to more than $10,000,000. * x ox % T is a fact that nearly every Presl- dent has had the White House prac- tically refurnished or has added ma- terially to the furnishings. This was not because, in the main, the furnish- inge were not adequate, but because of the wear and tear. Then, too, at various times the furnishings have hecome obsolete in the view of the various mistresses of the White House, and this has brought about many alterations in the interfor dec- orations and furnishings. ‘As decade followed decade, it is not to be wondered at that vast sums have been expended upon the White House. The Nation's eyes are con- stantly fixed upon it and here come thousands of citizens vearly, making pilgrimages to the seat of the Na- tional Government. This crowd of visitors makes it imperative that cer- tain of the rooms be completely re- furnished and redecorated almost every year. The first appropriation made by Congress for the White House was included in a genmeral appropriation of $200,000 for the construction of public_bulldings at the site of the “new Natlonal Capital that was called the City of Washington,” and which site had been selected by the first President, George Washington. A part of this sum was to be used for the construction and furnishing of an adequate residence for the Nation's Chief Magistrate. This appropriation was not made until some time in 1796, although the site for the future capital of the country had been se- lected as early as 1790. Of this first sum set aside for the new White House, it was quickly demonstrated not to be sufficlent for the purpose, and it was not many months before Congress was asked for further sums with which to complete the structure as well as to furnish it. And agaln the money provided was shown to be insufficient. It was sev- eral years before the residence was finally furnished. This early White House was far from being a preten- tious affair. It looked like a giant box. Nor were the grounds at all what they have since come to be, al- though much money was spent on them from year to year. An interesting and rare old volume kept in the Treasury Department en- titled, “Statement of the Appropria- tions and Expenditures from the Na- tional Treasury for Public and Pri- vate Purposes, from July 16, 1790, to June 30, 1876, gives repairs for the grounds for that early 'Feriud to the amount of $662,021.32. Then there is still another item, “Improvement of grounds,” $269,071.28, making a total of $821,092.59. This included the sum of $4,420 spent in 1861 for the bring- ing of Potomac River water to the grounds for irrigation purposes. This was considered a very remarkable im- provement at that time. * % X % IN 1814 the British visited Wash- ington and burned nearly all the Government buildings, including the ‘White House, from which President Madison had fled only a few hours previous to their arrival. The fire did not actually destrov the whole man- sion, but left it in such a state that it was deemed wise to reconstruct it from cellar to attic. Some of the walls were found to be in good shape, and thus it was rebuilt virtually accord- ing to the original plans. The archi- tect of the first bullding was in charge of the rebuilding. priately Furnished DOORWAY OF THE WHITE, HOUSE. ROOF OF THE MANSION WILL COST A complete, as it was not possible to furnish_the inside. _ The White House is a continuing éxpense and always must be such. As the bullding grows older it must be repaired. Yet it Is a wonderful structure, rich in memories. It bears the imprint and the stamp of the per- sonalities of its various occupants. Each has added something permanent to the structure, althought the furni- ture is continually changing, as grad- ually the very walls themselves must change, and the floors and all, because such things wear out. ‘While the White House is the resi- dence of the President of the United States and is furnished for four-year periods, the Chief Executive still has many expenses. Some have thought that with a house furnished and serv- ants and guards and electric lights and.gas and heat and all, there would be little else to worry about. But every item of food consumed in the White house is a charge against the President’s salary. All the viands provided for the State banquets are paid for by :the President.. The President pays for the services of the host of waiters employed on all occasions. There are four dinners which custom requires. These are in honor of the Cabinet, the Diplomatic Corps, the Supreme Court and the Speaker of the House. Rarely a year passes when the President is not re- quired to spend at least three State banquets besides these. At such there are frequently 90 guests. ‘The small, private dinners that are many times more important to the Nation and the party in power and the President than the State functio; are also frequently provided. These are not elaborate but their cost runs high. From President Roosevelt and to the present administration, break- fast and luncheon affairs are numer- ous. From four to twenty are present according to the inclination of the Chief Magistrate. Ay E first lady must also have her luncheons demanded by custom and tradition. Mrs. Roosevelt, for in- stance, gave five afternoon receptions to & 1,000 and 1,200 guests. There were more than six musiecals. At all of these there was a dainty repast of sandwiches, ices, tea. chocolate, coffee or some iced drink. These little The rebullding required several years, In 1820 the commissioners Ty hud Dapenced. $146.A0h o the they expen: 3 X on L spreads cost considerable money. Not all the White House servants are paid for through public funds. The must Kis own t men,.a servant-who {of the President e IT IS ESTIMATED THAT THE NEW HALF MILLION DOLLARS. Copyright by Underwood & Underwood. acts as a valet, two maids and also nurses and a governess and laundress, as occasion and needs might demand. The expenses of the White House laundry is in itself quite a problem. The Government provides only for the cleansing of the off linen. separate accounts are kept. The White House stables are a matter of custom. Because they have always been there, perhaps they always will be. The stableman must be paid for out of the President’s salary, but the Nation pays the feed bill and allows for a carriage and a coachman, if such are wanted. In these days it i8 an automobile and a chauffeur. To have fine horses is @ custom brought [from the past. Undoubtedly all Presidents try to be economical. Some have one stand- ard and some another. I'resident Coolidge is making a special effort and tries to practice it at the White House, but there are obstacles. One is accepted custom: another, certain expectations that the world looks at him 88 chief of the wealthiest Nation; and third, mounting costs that effect the Chief Kxecutive as well as the working man. As President, any in- dividual who reaches the high office realizes that he is expected to main- tain_ the dignity of the position that he holds, and so there are dinners and entertainments, and functions, and trips and addition of all sorts. It is interesting when remembering all these mounting persohal expenses of the President, not including the various charities that are expected, to observe how other Presidents fared at the end of their terms. Thomas Jefferson came from the White House a poor man although wealthy when he was elected. Harrison left a small estate. James Monroe was a_very poor man—probably the poorest finan- cially that ever occupied the White House—and the office was such a drain on his income that Congress made an appropriation to Mrs. Mon- roe after her husband's death. Martin Van Buren was the only one who did not draw ing his four-year term. ivate bank account for all his expenses. Gen. Grant was very thrifty. It was during his sec- ond term that the office salary was raised from $25,000 to $50,000 a_ vear. Probably the most lavish spender of all was Chester A. Arthur, who not infrequently gave dinners costing $5,000. President R. B. Hayes was Aecused of parsimony because he offered no_wine fo his guests at his dinnersy He-didnot-gare for-soclal ¢ his salary du He used his BENT RODERICK'S HEAD FOR- ]\r‘_mn. SHE KISSED HIM SWIFT- Millions Spent in Repairing Washington Home But the White House Must Be Kept in First-Class Condition and Must Be Appro- functions. le saved some money, did_Benjamin Harrison. The great Lincoln was a poor man wen he became President and a poors one when he left, having only a hundred dollars in the bank. | President Cleveland made money through real estate investments, which made it possible for him to re- tire a wealthy man . Snails Grow Popular. VER half a ton of snails were shipped from France to the | United States last year. The amount | has been growing every year, indicate ing that Americans are getting more z\ndlmm‘P fond of this favorite French food The he bottle sna as brand is known as milke These snails are put in the cellar in the Summer to feed on mulberry leaves. They are kept fat and growing in the Winter hy a spe- cles of forcible feeding. Snails go feeding when the sun comes out after a rainstorm. o the French snail farm« er from_time to time throughout the gloomy Winter sprinkles his herd with water from a hose and then turns on an electric light. The snails, come pletely tricked, and thinking that the sun has just come out after a shower, { stick their heads out of their shells, when they are sprayed with a mixture of milk and flour from large glass jugs Voodooism. HE ancient art of voodooism is be- ing brought under the glaring light of science. Prof. J. M. Watts of the department of pharmacology at the University of Witwatersrand, in South Africa, has undertaken to find out the actual medicinal value of all the herbs, plants and other charms used in the semi-barbaric religious rites of the natives. He has sent out several thousand questionnaires to all parts of the con- tinent, asking al! who are interested to send In material, says Science Mag- azine. The response has exceeded every expectation, and specimens have poured in from all over Africa, over a thousand coming from North Rho- desia alone. It will probably take vears to go over the vast amount of material accumulated, but it is hoped that when results of the investigation are eventually published some drugs may be found whose virtues are at present unknown to the medical pros fession. Noiseless Auction NOISELESS auction is the latest hoon to mankind that has come out of Hol d. It sounds impossible, but the scheme is simple. Everybod who attends the auction and wants to bid is provided with a seat Fach chair i numbered, and connected with wires to a big dial on the auctioneer’s platform. On the dial are numbers representing prices from the lowest to the highest amougts. When the sale begins, the auction- eer describes his wares and then calls for bids. The hand on the dial on the platform starts to move up the range of prices, and whenever any bidder wants to drop out he signals such by pressing the button on his chair. When all have dropped out but one, a bell rings and a light flashes on the dial board, and the highest bid is thus ascertained without any noise or con- fusfon. Measuring Heat. HOW much heat is developed when vou hammer a nail? An English- man has devised an apparatus which accurately measures, by photographv. the amount of heat so deveioped. The instrument is used to study metals so that new steels can be de- vised for modern metal working. When two metals are pressed closely together and heat is developed an electric cur- rent flows from one to the other. The new recording apparatus utilizes this principle and determines how much heat is developed in lathe operations, cutting, drilling and planing. Cotton a True “Mine.” [F you want to find an extensive conglomeration of miner pick up a cotton plant. It contains iron, phosphorus,” magnesium. caleium, potassium and sodium, and Dr. Me Hargue of the Kentucky Agricultural :;.xn!rimlnt !:;"M has just shown e amount copper, (i dm el o gy