Evening Star Newspaper, December 26, 1926, Page 73

THE OTHER DAY Limited | fairly HE Twentleth Century gets intn New York early in the morning. This necessitates dressing earl t00, unless one wants to dress in a taxicab on the way to ones hotel. Dressing in taxicabs is very uncomfortable and is apt to lead to many unpleasant situations, as may be remembered in the recent case of the State of New York versus Adolph Higginbotham. 1 decided to dress on the train. Tn the washroom I found a gentle- man who was already fully clothed. He was also smoking A cigar—a very good cigar. g5 Well, we're getting in.” T re- marked. trying to catch the name of a station as we sped by. “What was that—Ossining?’ He nodded his head The greatest little world,” he sald 1 don’t know much about it.” T re plied, “except that it's where Sing Sing is, fen't 12" His eves filled with ters. “Dear old Sing Sing,” he said, ten- derly. 1 regarded him with a face covered by lather. I'm a Yale man myself.” T re marked. “T can appreciate your feel- inge." He did not reply Do you get back often?” T asked. He shook his head. “T've sort of drifted away,” he said. “You know how that 1s.” “I generally get up to New Haven for the games.” I replied “When 1 was younger,” he said, dropping the ashes of his cigar care- fully in the cuspidor, I used to go back practically every vear.” I adfusted the handle of my safety razor and began to shave. T suppose the place has changed a lot.” T remarked. He nodded. “It fan’t what it used 1o be,” he re- lied, shifting the crossed position of i knees. “But, then.” he added, “what 187 Took at New York so- ciety “{ don’t know any one in New York T eaid. “Who does, swered. “Or, rather, Mind you,” he added, “I'm not bitter.” “Ot course mot,” I said. ‘‘There fen't anything to get bitter about. It's just something that happened. He smoked silently for a few min- utes and I did what I could toward re- moving lather and beard from my chin. “Look out,” vourselt.” “I know it,” T replied. do that.” “Habit is a bad thing,” he said, “for v your age know it,” I replied, “but T al- ways try to cut myselt a different Pplace each time.” hat doesn’t help much.”” he said, “It's like the female ostrich they tell about.” 1 didn't think ostriches shaved.” I replied. I thought that when they saw ahy one coming they just put their heads in the sand.” “Supposing there isn't any sand,” he said. “I never thought of that,” mitted. “You learn things,” he said, “when you get older.” 1 surveved my chin ruefully. “I don't think I'll ever learn to shave,” T replied. He regarded me silently. “Did_you ever hear the story of Jesse McLenahan?” he asked. place in the these days?” he an 0 wants to? he =aid. “You cut “1 always I ad- said. THE SUNDAY TAR. WASHINGTON, D. -C., DECEMBER 26, 1926—-PART 1 replied. He gazed out the window for sev eral minutes. Finally he spoke. “Jesse McLenahan,” he said. “‘was just about your age when he died.” From shaving?’ 1 asked. He shook his head. “He wore a heard,” he replied. ‘Where?" 1 asked. ‘Everywhere,” he replied—and then, seeing that he had misinterpreted my question, he added, “On his face.” “What was his business,” I asked, “besides that?"’ “It is rather difficult to say,” he re plied. “When I first knew him he was in the burglary insurance business I was a burglar at the time,” he add- dd, “and our acquaintance in the be- ginning was purely a commercial one.” “I see,” T commented “Shortly after that,” he continued, “I was able to interest him in one or two jobs that I had in mind, and for a brief period he hecame a’ burglar. He was very restiess. Then he got interested in a concern which manu factured evaporated milk, and when that failed he tried farming.” “Where?" I asked. “In Connecticut.” he replied. “hut it wasn't much of a success. He ex- plained it to me at the time—some- thing about the peculiar quality of the soil—perhaps there was too much rain—I forget the exact details. And then he tried to start a magazine.” “What magazine?” I asked. “It was called Home and Shotgun “I.don’t think I've ever seen it,” I “No.” he replied, “I don't imagine you have. Tt appeared for only twn numhers and then went broke, I've got a lot of copies some place around the house, unless my wife has got rid of them. 1 rather imagine she has hy now. Anyway, the magazine was a faiture, and for a while he had to go back to burglary—it was a choice be- tween that and insurance and he never like the kind of a job where you have to sell something—he was quite proud that way—so he did three or four jobs, just enough to get some capital and as xoon as he had it he invested it in some kind of a patent washing machine, and for a while it looked as though he might make quite a bit of money."”" “Rut he didn’t?” I asked. “No," he replied. “Something hap- pened—I think somebody ran awa with the money or else his partner was crooked, or something—anyway, the next thing I heard about Jesse he had become a playwright and was g0 ing to have a play produced on Broad- way.” T whistled. “It must have been pretty good,” I said Once more he shook his head “No,” he said, “it wasn't. He sent tickets for my wife and me for the opening night, and it was pretty bad At least, the newspaper critics all said it was bad. Personally. I've,seen a lot worse. Anvway, it didn't last very long. and T guess that's what counts “What sort of a play was it?"" 1 it was in the nature of a “Kind | 1 think | It to| historieal thing.” he replied of a life of Napoleon--at least it was Napoleo It was difficu tell exactly hecause there were many characters in it. But I remem her Napoleon—and Lincoin —-and there a woman who my was either Josephine of Mrs wall Jackson, but we were never sure often any more—not that I am ed to the theater, hut I get sleepy.” 1 know how you feel,” I said Well, anyway,” he continued, felt very hadly about his play shortly after that he took sick Pneumonia, 1 helieve it Stone hat's too bad,” 1 said “Yes, it was ton bad." the other. ‘“Jesse's life what you might call a He took out another clipped off the end. At that another man entered the washroom, commented wag sort of faflure.” cigar and moment wife thought | | I don't go to the theater very | op- | hung up his coat and began to take | off hir shirt. “Well, we're getting in,"" he said He filled the washbowl and looked for a towel “Say.” remarked with “the cigar, “isn't Evans?" the The stganger looked around quickly “Np," he replied it is,” insisted the other vans—and I'm Gus Rinchart umber 440,3527" “That's pretty the man with nearly the c rigl r, (X . XX R Y | | “ANYWAY, THE MAGAZINE WAS A FAILURE AND FOR A WHILE HE HAD TO GO BACK TO BURGLARY.” make much difference now, Il he darned!” said the doesn't anyway “Well other. ‘‘Well, how are you?" They shook hands enthusiastically. “And say, Bud—this {8 Mr.— “Stewart,” 1 said. 'An old Sing Sing boy?” “No,” T answered, went to |Yn!e : “What year?” | 1916 T replied. time," to run he | Harvard firat and “I'm | member that night in By Donald Ogden Stewart He shook 1 didn't know he said into a head any one around unless you b man named La “A burglar?” 1 asked “No,” replied the other.' taught Greek. Maybe 1 it asked cigar. clgar, Rud? Have a my Mr. “Have a friend tewart 2" I declined. The lighted their ‘Been back two men sat down the asked first The other shook his head “Not a long time,” he replied. in the hond business now. said the T heard you were.” of the old hoy the Sehaeffer irrested Lowell gaid Mr t they've ¢ em? fivans, See any Sure” replied nnell—Tom Wiet-—Midge got 1die most of ti replied Mr thoughtfuily certainly were “Yes mome hegan Mr awrence s-his time.” Tohnny old whi name's Ar guffaw “Do 1 burst out into a loud Say—and re-’ June—-?" interr * he replied 1 them Excuse me,” 1 said I'll g0 hack in the car “Certainly,” said Mr. Rinehart coughed and then “but T think & | you 1ater. We shook h: sod-by, Mr. Evane.” 3lad to have met you Fvans. As T loft the washroom they settled back once more on the heavy leather seats They were very happy to- gether. replied Mr, (Copyright. 1096 ) Tuberculosis Vaccine. FIHE end of tuberculosis is in sight, according to the French physician, Dr. Gaston Calmette. During the past two years 14,635 children have been vaccinated in France for tuberculosis without harmful results. The mortal ity from the dise: down to an amazing degree by the use of the vaccine The vaccine is effective only when used on infants; it can do no good to ‘| adults. But Dr. Calmette hopes to see the use of this vaccine become so widespread in different countries that within a generation the tuberculosis menace will be greatly decreased, if not almost eliminated. Weather to Order. ATHER is made to order in Pittsburgh, where researchers of the Bureau of Mines have fitted up special rooms to study the influence of weather on respiratory diseases Electrical ice machines, capable of making five tons of ice per day, are hooked up with steam heat to produce temperature ranging from zero to 130 degress above. Other apparatus pro duces fog, rain and the entire scale of humidity from 15 te 100, the saturation point. Miniature storms can be cre- ated by a battery of 20 small, alr plane propeller. type of electric fans. MYSTERY OF THE HAUNTED GRANGE— A Ghost Story of the Past BY STEPHEN LEACOCK. HE evening was already falling as the vehicle in which I was contained entered upon the long and gloomy avenus that leads to Buggam Grange. A resounding shriek echoed through the wood as I entered the avenue. 1 paid no attention to it at the mo- ment, judging it to be merely one of those resounding shrieks one might expect to hear in such a place at such a time. 1 am not by temperament in any degree a nervous man, and vet there was much in my surroundings to justify a certain feeling of appre- hension. The Grange is situated in the loneliest part of England. The inhabitants, of whom there are only one and a half to the square mile, live here and there among the fens. Tt had been raining in the after- noon, and as I drove up the avenue the mournful dripping of the rain from. the dark trees accentuated the cheerlessness of the gloom. The ve- hicle in which I rode was a cab on three wheels, the fourth having ap- parently been broken off. causing the cab to sag on one side and drag on its axle over the muddy ground, thus moving only at a foot's pace in a way calculated to enhance the dreari- ness of the occasion. In the half darkness 1 could see the outline of the Grange itself, a rambling, dilapidated building. A dim light struggled through the casement of a window in a tower room My driver halted his horse at the ither side of the moat. I tried in vain to urge him, by signs, to go farther. I could see by the fellow's facs that he was in a paroxysm of fear, and indeed nothing but the ex- tra sixpence which 1 had added to his fare would have made him under- take the drive up the avenue. I had no sooner alighted than he wheeled bis cab about and made off. “SOMETHIN: LIKE A MOAN ACCELERATED MY BACKWARD MOVE- MENTS TO A CONSIDERABLE DEGREE.” * Laughing heartily at the fellow's trepidation (I have a way of laugh- ing heartily in the dark). I made my way to the door and pulled the bell handle. I could hear the muffied re- verberations of the bell far within the building. Then all was silent. 1 bent my ear to listen, but could hear nothing except perhaps the sound of a low moaning as of a per. son in pain or in great mental dis- tress. Convinced. however, from what my friend Sir Jeremy Buggam told me. that the Grange was nnt empty, I raised the ponderous knockey had | and beat with it loudly against the door. | But perhaps at this point I may do well to explain to my readers (before they are too frightened to listen to me) how I came to be beating on the door of Buggam Grange at nightfall | on a,gloomy November evening | A'vear before I had been sitting | with Sir Jeremy Buggam, the present | baronet, on the veranda of his ranch in Californfa. “8o you don't believe in the super- | natural?” he was saying. | “Not in the slightest,” I answered, lighting a cigar as I spoke. When 1 want to speak y positively I gen- erally light a cigar as I speak. “Well, at any rate, Digby,” said Sir Jeremy, “Buggam Grange is haunted. If you want to be assured of it, go down there any time and spend the night and you'll see for yourself. “The Grange is shut up, and has been for 20 years. But I keep a man there—Horrod—he was butler in my father's time and before. If you care to go, I'll write him that you're com- ing. And since you are taking your own fate in your hands, the 15th day of November is the day."” . The sound of the knocker, then, had scarcely ceased to echo when 1 heard the shufMing of feet within and the | sound of chains and bolts being with- | drawn. The door opened. A man stood before me holding a lighted candle, which he shaded with his hand. His faded black clothes, once appar- ently a butler's dress; his white hair and advanced age left me in no doubt that he was Horrod, of whom Sir Jeremy had spoken. Without a word he motioned me to come in and, still without speech, he helped me to remove my wet outer- garments, and then beckoned me into a great room, evidently the dining room of the Grange. I am not in any degree a nervous man by temperament, but I have sel- dom seen features more calculated to inspire a nervous dread. The pallor of his face and the whiteness of his hair (the man was at least 70), and still more the peculiar furtiveness of his eyes, seemed to mark him as one who lived under a great terror. . “Sir Jeremy told me,” T said, speak- ing as loudly and as heartily as I could, “that he would apprise you of my coming.” T was looking into his face as 1 spoke. . In answer Horrod laid his finger | acrose his lips and I knew that he was deaf and dumh. T am not ner- vous (I think 1 said that), but the realization that my sole companion in the empty house was a deaf mute struck a cold chill to my heart. Horrod laid in front of me a cold meat pie, a cold goose, a cheese and a tall flagon of cider. But my appe- tite was gone. 1 ate the goose, but found that after I had finished the pie I had little zest for the cheese, which I finished without enjoyment. The cider had a sour taste, and, after having permitted Horrod to refill the flagon twice, I found that it in- duced a sense of melancholy and de- cided to drink no more. The rooms to which the butler now conducted me consisted of a sitting room, with an adjoining bedroom. Horred hent down in front of the fireplace and endeavored to light a | fire there. But the wood was evident- ly damp and the fire flickered feebly on the hearth. As the butler left me, it may have been fancy. but it seemed to me that his departure was the signal for a low moan that came from somewhere behind the wainscot. There was a narrow cupboard door at one side of the room, and for the moment 1 won- dered whether the moaning came from within, I am not as a rule lacking in cour- age (I am sure my reader will be decent enough to believe this), yet I found myself -entirely unwilling to open the cupboard door and look within. In place of doing so, I seated myself in a great chair in front of the feeble fire. 1 must have been seated there for some time when I happened to lift my eyes to the mantel above and saw, standing upon it, a letter addressed to myself. I knew the handwriting at once to he that of Si remy Buggam. I read as follows: “My Dear Digby “In our talk that you will remem- ber, T had no time to finish telling you ahout the mystery of Buggam Grange. I have, therefore, sent Horrod this let- ter to deliver at the Grange itself. “The story is this: “On the night of the fifteenth of November, 50 years ago, my grand- father was murdered in the room in which you are sitting, by his cousin, Sir Duggam Buggam. He was stabbed from behind while seated at the little table at which you are probably read- ing this letter. “The two had been playing cards at the table and my grand- father’s body was found lying in a lt- ter of cards and gold sovereigns on the floor. Sir Duggam Buggam, -insensi-| ble from drink. lay beside him, the fatal knife at his hand, his fingers smeared with blood. My grandfather, though of the younger branch, pos. sessed a part_ of the estates which were | to revert to Sir Duggam on his death. | Sir Duggam Buggam was tried at | the assizes and was hanged. “On the day of his execution he was permitted by the authorities, out of respect for his rank, to wear a mask to the scaffold. The clothes in which he was executed are hanging at full length in the little cup- board to your right, and the mask is above them. It is said that on every 15th of November at midnight the cupboard door opens and Sir Duggam Buggam walks out into the room. “It has been found impossible get servants to remain at the Grange, and the place—except for the presence of Horrod —has been un- occupied for a generation. At the time of the murder Horrod was a voung man of 22, newly entered into the service of the family. It was he who entered the room and discovered the crime. “On the day of the execution he| was stricken with paralyeis and has| never spoken gince. From that time| to this he has never consented to! leave the Grange, where he lives in | to | hair, all of it, rising upon my head. “Wishing you a pleasant night after your tiring journey, I remaim, very faithfully, = JEREMY BUGGAM." T leave my reader to imagine my state of mind when I completed the perusal of the letter. I have as little belief in' the super- natural as any one, yet I must confess that there was something in the sur- roundings in which I now found my- self which rendered me at least un- comfortable. My reader may smile if he will, but I assure him that it was with a very distinct feeling of uneasi- ness that I at length managed to rise to my feet and, grasping my candle fn my hand, to move backward into the bedroom.. As I backed into it something so like a moan seemed to proceed from the closed cuphoard that I accelerated my hackward movement to a considerable degree. 1 blew out the candle, threw myself upon the bed and drews the bedclothes over my head, keeping. however, one eve and one ear still out and available At length my ear. alert to every sound, could just distinguish, far away across the fens, the striking of a| church bell, in the clock tower of Bug- | gam Village Church, no doubt, toll- ing the hour of 1 On the last stroke of 12 the cup- board door in the mext room opened. Thera is no need to ask me how I knew it. I couldn't, of course, see it, | but I cotld hear, or sense’in some way, the sound of it. I could feel my | 1| was aware that there was a presence | in the adjoining room—I will not say a | person, a living soul, but a presence. | T could hear a sound as of some one | groping on the floor and the faint rat- | tle as of coins. | My hair was perpendicular My reader can believe it or not, but it | was. | Then, at this very moment. from somewhere below in the building there came the sound of a prolonged and now isolation. piercing ery. My reader may censure | Thera me or not, but right at this moment 1 decided to beat it. Whether T should have remained to see what was hap pening is a question that I will not discuse The window of the tower room was some 25 feet above the ground. 1 landed on the grass below. In on bound I cleared the moat. 1 weni down the avenue in about six strider and 5 miles along the road in minutes. . I returned to Buggam Grange or the next day. in the bright sunlight of a frosty November morning, in 2 seven-cylinder motor car with six loca! constables and a physician. It makes all the difference. We carried re volvers. spades, pickaxes, shotguns and a ouija board What we found cleared up foreve: the mystery of the Grange. We dis covered Horrod,. the butler, Iving on the dining-room floor, quite dead. The physician said that he had- died from heart failure There was evidence from the mar] of his shoes in the dust that he had come in the night t¢ the tower room On_the table he had placed a paper which contained a full confession o his having murdered Jeremy Buggam 50 years before. The circumstances of the murder had rendered it easy fo! him to fasten the crime upon Sir Dug gam, already insensible from drink A few minutes with the ouija board enabled us to get a full corroboration from Sir Duggam. He promised, more over, now that his name was cleared to go away from there forever My friend, the present Jeremy has rehabilitated Buggam Grange. The place is rebuilt The moat is drained The whole house is lit with electricity are beautiful motor drives ir all directions in the woods. He has had the bats shot and the owls stuffed His daughter. Clara Buggam, became my wife. She (s looking over my shoulder as T write. What more do you want? (Copsrieht 19261 Gross Exaggerations—in the Dumb-Waiter “It Geeves From Isidore a Boiday Poddy” BY MILT GROSS. ICOND FLOOR—Y{ vi vi— Wot is it gung on dere by you | @ noise witt a tomolt, Meesus | Feitlebaum———777 Third Floor—Noo, noo—dun’t We got by Isidore a boiday " Comm donstess gradually Lat's see—Oxcuse me, Mees: | um Yifnif—Hm-—=o dere is de Chuck- | litts Hicklairs, de Mocka Tott, louly | pope. chollit Raosts, Zo0zozz—pees. tesh nots, sulted helmonds- ! Mr. Feitlehaum—AHA' Sulted hel. | monds’—ha (SMACK) for Muttimer | Meetzic (SMACK) witt de rast from | de goot for nottings (SMACK) sulted | pinnots haint goot enoff, ha Sulted | helmonds you nidd, ha?? (SMACK). | Looy—Ha—ha——Polly seeds 'ud be | more like it witt de beak he's sprout in' lately!! O Boy!—Wot a penin sula—ha ha' - Ten years old—Ha | ha!!—He'll look like a moose by de time he's twelve!' | Istdore—I aidt ted -I'he eleved Mr. Feitlebaum —SMACK) A prout ness vat. ha? (SMACK) from you hold hage wot yvou steel in Furr B™ (SMACK) witt a D yat on de reputt cod. HA? Looy— W dat’s true he couldn't dat doity neck in | gen vears’ HA HA!—Well, watcha gav, Pop nna leave de kids try | to pin a tail on ya? Mr. Feitlebaum € dope—witt creke!! Mrs. at dat I'll geeve heem de fullish smot Looy stotting Looy Dun’t Feitlebaum Mowriss LOOY opp witt_de papa 4 Lony--Whooze startin’ up wid ‘im tva wanna make a pardy fer his nex! boithday hieself.” How aboutcha Pop? | Schwutz | opp | Let's see you'll be a hundred an' six, | worcha? ~Sure de Crimean HA-—de Feitlebaum one!’! Kinda camels—— (SPLASH!! CRASH!! BAM') Looy—'At's all—I'm troe He can't spill no bowl of punch all over me he can't, Mrs. Feitlebaum —LOOY-—MOW RISS———Is comming de gasis shshsh—Hollo—Hollo—Meesus Meet zie—Hollo Muttimer—Hollo Comm _in——Hollo—hollo Chorus —Hollo—hollo— Hollo!! HOLLO! Mr. Feitlehaum denks (SMACK) Mee: de hair-rifle—(SMACK Mrs. Feitlebaum — Hollo Meesus Grubnik-—Hollo Seedney 1o Movvin—— Hollo—hollo- Mr. Feitlebaum — Hollo — hollo (SMACK)—Say denks (SMACK) Mee sus Grubnik—for de Puggo Steeck!! (SMACK)--Hollo—hollo Mrs. Feitlebaum — Hollo Meesus Roofchick - Hexter ily —Hollo Menny— lo pipple’ Comm in——=Go pollor cheeldren Mr. Feitlebaum—Aha—it stotts ady de boiday poddies—in mine batroom!! So—why—dey dun’t mak ling in de school in de cheeldrun’s labraturry dere de poddy—I should be habie I should go in mine batroom 1 should shafe airady, ha?? Mmmm mm Mrs, Feitlehaum—Hm Reeve a | Teesten wot its playing dere de cheel dren games— you was a scout War—wasn'tc elgn Legion!! “Beau HA HA-'at's tough on de in hollo (SMACK) Say us Meetzie for hollo Hel Meesus - Hollo Hol in de hollo | Now—lookit—See—a two on sne an’ a five on de odder—dat's even——dat's a natcherel {ens an’ elevens is natcherels- —now twelves is Box:Cars!!—Fours s Lil' Heénry an'——twos an’ trees | i8 craps!'—— Mrs. Feitlebaum hopen hopp de durr Wot———oh—hallo—hollo tolis - Hollo Roitrem - gradually Mrs. Noftolis—Hollo—hollo—-Hm, of cuss, mine hosb—I minn de doctor hordered spacial a geeft for Isi dore—wot'll take A few days dey <hould_menufecturing it—heh—heh &0——Boi BOITREM —— Is dees nize you should take hout witt de hends charriz from de ponch bowl ROITREM!'—Modder is grivved—RBoi term—BOITREM'—Put beck from de pockets on de table de bum-bums Boitrem—-1s deez nice you should squizzing de Chucklitts Hicklerrs \BOITREM—Moder _is | waxed——Hm— | canot Meckarunzz——Of cuss |on Wast Hend Hevenue we u ing for de poddies a Beescits witt a Blenk Mange Looy—An' any odder kind mange witt it——Oh! Boy!!— | gasbag—Comm _ Roitrem—dollink I Lat's we should play a leedle Blind (Man’s Bloff- in a sawmill ~Wow-——Ha ha!! Mr. Feitlebaum—Noo—Comm pip- ple—a leedla ponch-——Heh her— Comm on—Lat's we should dreenic—— Chorus—TLots from lock!! Dreenk Ihmv_ Comm on' Looy- Looy—Tooy—Go ——is reengin Meesus’ Nof- come in by oss 1al hev. ittunny of Goot lock extrimmingly | Geeve a look—Cuc- | Dat | Donn de hatch!'|published in Paris in 1644, Dreenk hotty!! Lots from da Vinci made investigations Into the Here it goes!— WOW ——— Whooy —POIZZEN! Queeck—a . doctos Halp—1'1l sue dem! (SMACK)-— Speet it—hout— (SMACK)—Speet it hout, queeck (SMACK). Mrs. Feitlehaum — Looy Wot vou put in de ponch??? queeck befurr it sees you de papa-—— Mr. Feitiebaum—I'll geeve heem dot dope—I'll make from heem creeple——1'll—— Looy—Wait a minnit-—Hold ver hosses——Wot? WOT?? Wot did 1 tell va to put in it—-2? APPLEJACK “dat’s wot'—shure nothin’ hetter far punch Sure!!!! Applejack!! Ya WOT??? Ya went in a store an va got varnish - Ha ha—Well, well HA HA HA—— Isadore -Baba Year's party dext week? (SMACK!") (Couyright. 1926.) dren's cheeldren Kid 1 Modern Antiquities. JDURING recent excavations in Rome there were found in the palace of the (aesars, on the Palatine Hill, three elevators, one shaft 120 ‘feet deep. Hero of Alexandri in 125 B.C., invented mechanical to These included a steam engine of the type known today as Avery's patent {and a_double forcing pump to be used as a fire engine. The same inventor was responsible for the penny-in-theslot idea. The submarine was suggested in a book Leonardo lock.— Cheeldren — Cheeldren’s cheel- possibility of aerigl flight. ’ = being | BY RING LARDNER. Chapter 26 of Autobiography. s are now drawing to a close. (Cries of “Touch- down! Touchdown!” and “We Want Borah!") But it would be little less than criminal were T to complete the story of my | life without explaining why I selected | Great Neck, Long's Island, s the place to end my days. My second wife, a tall, gangling Swiss. girl named mma Geezle, whose father had made his money in Alpine stock. said she { had lived all her life in a little haunch lat the corner of Broadway and Forty | second street and she was sick of the | bright lights. “Take me,” she said, “to some town where we won't be dazzled by the lights.” So I asked a prominent realtor to recommend a town where there would be no danger of being blinded by elec- tricity. “Great Neck,” was his reply. “You will find that some of the people out there get lit up quite often, but the houses hardly ever. If the weather report reads ‘cloudy’ or ‘light south- west winds,” the current becomes so affected that many a wife, attempting to dress for a party, has found herself frantically trying to complete her ac- couterment by donning a wing collar and a dinner jacket.” So Emma and I bought ourselves a love nook in Great Neck, christened it “The House of a Dozen Candles,” and are now devoting most of our time to keeping the house in order, no small task when your menage con- Y memol Nshe is going full speed astern. sists of five servants, six children, four rooms and bath, a police dog, three mechanics and a full-grown leopard. In my spare moments I devised a scheme which for a time revolution- ijzed the musical-comedy business in New York. In those days it was cus- tomary for producers of revues and other musical plays to seek to attract patronage by having their perform- ers wear hardly any costumes. The tights worn by chorus girls in old-time burlesque shows came to he regarded as too cumbersome, and va- RULES OF ROAD AT SEA. ‘ N the sea it is even more im- portant than on land that there should be well defined rules of the road. While there are “ocean lanes.' vessels do not move along well marked lines like railway trains: they cros: and recross one another's tracks. Moreover, there is no air brake which ‘can halt an ocean steamer within a few vards. Rules of the road at sea are hased upon common sense and experience. In general, when two vessels under steam are meeting each other end on, they follow the same rules as with us with vehicles—that is, each steers to the starboard or right. ©One short blast from the ship's whistle means that she is taking the starboard course; two blasts means that she is taking her course to port; three, that Should there be risk of collision be- tween a steam vessel and a sailing vesgel, it is the duty of the steam ves- sel, as the more manageable, to keep out of the way of the other. For the same reason a sailing ship which is running free is required to keep out of the way of one which is running close-haul For ma nation: years the chief maritime he world have agreed upon % \ an elaborate international code of reg- | ulations, prescribing lights, signals, | whistles and bells, by the use of | which vessels may communicate with one another with respect to their po sition and intentions even in the thick- est fog or storm. There are, of course, gulations with rezard to the use of wireless, which is ever increas ing. Experience has shown the need of revision of these regulations for the promotion of greater security, from time to time the different mari- time powers meet in inter conference to discuss such revision. | i 1 Queer Industry. i surprising dress and | checks to the ush, | complained that the playhouses were ational | 100 ¢ Humorist Receives Lock of Hair as Gift From Producer, After Achieving Reform rious committees on public morals were at their wits’ ends for methods to compel the theater men to observe what they called the elements of de corum and attire their dancers and coryphees in something more tangible. It was Mayor Walker who called me in 1o make suggestions. After a day's thought I concocted the follow- ing plan: To make it compulsory for all members of the audience to dis- robe before entering the theater At first the Mayor could not see that this would make matters any better, hut I soon convinced him. As =oon as the ordinance was passed, at tendance at shows fell off so lament- ably that most of the productions were obliged to close. It was really even to me, to note the zens who refused to un. presenting their seat s. Most of them number of before afty At any rate, the producing manag- ers’ association soon petitioned the Mayor to have the ordinance wiped off the books and a compromise was 7 7 { readily effected whereby the audiences T Japan a company is engaged in|were permitted to remain clothed exploiting the use of volcanic ash | again, wise. in combination with Portland cement mortar. This combination is said to be particularly valuable in the con. provided the actors did like- A banquet was given with me as the guest of honor, and David Be- struction of works submerged in salt | lasco, often referred to as the master, water. thus formed possesses great tensile strength and is denser than ordinar: Portland cement. It is also more re- sistant to the percolation of water. Attention is called to the fact that if this industry expands, the Philip- pines contain a great’ deal of volcanic ash which muht.1be available. of my declining 3 and the accident that resulted in my death. It is claimed that the cement | because he occupies the master's hed- room at the Belasc home, presented me with a lock of his hair. In the concluding chapter T will tell ars in Great Neck (To Be Conclyded.) (Covyright. 19326.) t