Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 135, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 June 1916 — Happy Water [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Happy Water

By MYRA BORCHARD

(Copyright. 1916, by W. Q. Chapman.) "Happy Water" was the name they gave to the pretty lake at Starville. The cascade two miles up the river was known as "Laughing Water.” The designations were not misnomers. The town was twenty miles from any railroad and it had little of modernity to K, therefore its inhabitants were crude only in the sense of pristine artlessness and sterling in integrity—hence, happy with laughing, healthy children and those of a larger growth unspoiled and contented. It was at the picnic at the “laughing water” that Reade Adams met Judith Trescott. It was on Happy Water afloat, with the moonlight softening the pretty scene, that he told her of his love. He had come home after six years at college to meet his fate. There must be a year of waiting, his parents had insisted, until in the big city or at his home town Reade discovered his mission in life. Ambition guided him. Reade felt that he would be worthy of his choice by making a great name. All the ardor and dreams of youth were his. Judith longed to have him remain in Starville. She felt both would be the happier for. it jn the long run. She dreaded the thought of that bright young spirit battling with the trials and temptations of the magnet metropolis. She did not tell Reade this, however. She had confidence in him and felt that he should elect his own destinyrT It was fortunate that Reade met Allan Wylie in the city, that they became roommates. Wylie was a hard-

■working, conscientious young man. For three months he and Reade were close chums. Then one morning Wylie was sheened. “You made some noise getting into the room last night,” he had observed to Reade. "Don’t blame me!” laughed Reade . recklessly. "It was the ‘happy water.”' “What do you mean by that, Adams?” interrogated Wylie gravely. "Don’t you know?” challenged Reade boisterously. “She fizz. I couldn’t deny the fellows at the office. It was the birthday of one of them and I hadn’t the heart to spoil the jovial celebration.” At that moment young Wylie made no comment, for he saw that Reade was not in a mood to take advice. It was the next evening that he took his comrade to task. Reade was penitent. He stayed at home for four consecutive evenings. What tender letters meanwhile he sent to Judith! Then he did not come for two nights. The third day an expressman came for his trunk and his companionship with a true friend was broken. A change in employment sent Wylie to another city and Reade Adams was housed in the midst of the fast set of his office. The “happy water” had got hold of an eager victim and would not let go. It came to Bei that Reade,. was impatient to reach Saturday evening and the giddy round of visits to case and cabaret. Always the “happy water” was on tap, always the Sunday headache, but remorse pow a weak imitation and the letters to fond, loyal Judith less and less frequent. Then one night, one hateful, never-tc-be forgotten night! Monday morning had found Reade Adams nervous and irritable as a result of the routine Saturday “celebration.” He resented something his employer said. There was a row. Reade resigned. He waited about the building all day long, he grouped his convivial chums after working hours. “I'll give you a joyful extra, fellows!" be boasted. "It’s another city and a new job for me tomorrow, so we’ll have a good-by supper;” - It turned out more than that, and worse—-an orgy, a reckless, brawling occasion. The "happy water” had wrought Its insidious blight to a point where Reade and his companions lost all control of themselves.

"Pardon me,” spoke a geptleman courteously, as, passing th.» chair which held Reade, he joggled it slightly. "What do you mean by that?” censured Reade. He was at a high pitch of recklessness. He arose to his feet unsteadily. The man passed on and up the steps ; to the street. "I’ll bring the scoundrel to terms!” ' cried Reade vaingloriously. "He insulted me!” “Hold on, Adams!” remonstrated one of the party at the table. “Not until he apologizes—the ruffian!” declared Reade. The others were too far gone to halt him. As he passed a table Reade snatched up a knife. His foolish wits drove him to frenzy. He dashed up the steps after his fancied enemy. Then —a blank. Where was he? His cleared senses took in stone walls, a hideous iron gate. He tried to clear his unsteady gaze. Then he realized the truth —he was the inmate of a prison cell! What had happened? How had he come there? He strdVe to recall the last fading scene of the previous night —the fancied insult, his mad derperate pursuit of the man who bad aroused his animosity, the knife!—filß blood chilled. He sat up on the hard plank where he had slept. He heard voices in the corridor outside. “Yes, he killed his man.” "How was it?” "Oh, the usual program—too much of the ‘happy water,’ a blow. He had a knife. A young man, too, well connected, they say—the electric chair.” Reade Adams crouched back on the plank. His soul was frozen with horror, the overheard words had supplied the missing link in the clouded events of the night previous. “The electric chair —the knife —then I am a murderer!” he moaned and buried his face in his hands. He must have fainted, for there was lethargy, a daze and then he heard a key rattle in the lock. "Can you walk steady?” was challenged and a turnkey swung back the grated door. “Young man,” he added sternly, “I hope this will be a lesson to you. For the sake of your friends don't repeat last night. They picked you up lying in the road where the first chance auto might have dashed out your life. Go up to the office, get your valuables and cut out the ‘happy water.’ ” “But—but the murdered man?” quavered Reade. "Oh, that’s the fellow in the next cell—killed a man last night. Let that be a warning for you.” Reade Adams fairly reeled from a revulsion of emotion. He was not, then, a murderer! Ah, the relief, after those awful moments of horror and remorse! He hastened to the office of the police station clerk. He fled the place as though pursued by a pestilence. Just one person knew of that terrible night in his life. Judith, Judith td whose presence he fled as to a sanctuary. As to the city—with shuddering dread he resolved never to revisit its menace. No, the home village, with friends, a modest, humble avocation among those he loved, that was his pledge, his vow.

And it was out upon the lake in a boat, alone -with Judith, that Reade Adams told her all. Then, her pitying eyes upon him, he spread out his hands in ecstacy across the gleaming moonlit waves. “Oh, never that other again!” he almost sobbed, "only this—the dear, real Happy Water, and friends, and peace, and your love!”

“Yes, He Killed His Man.”