Greencastle Herald, Greencastle, Putnam County, 2 August 1920 — Page 4

PACE 4

IHE GKEENCASILE HEKau

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 8. mi

THE TOWER LADY

By AGNES G. BROGAN.

GUARDING NATALIE

By MILDRED WHITE.

Copyright, mil. Western Newspaper Union. Alan Weiulel was elateil over his latest commission. When (Joni'Ros enKatteil him to illustrate his coming hook, Alan realised tliai as an artist he had arrived. Georges was noted, his stories lainotis for their realistic atmosphere, and Alan therefore decided that it would he wise to take a cottage down at Van Ampsden while he worked on his sketches. There he could get a view of the'ocean from tlie verj gardens of the ancient mansion around which Georges had woven Ills story. This riimhlhtg stone house was said to lie haunted Ity some unfortunate girl of a tragedy of long ago. The present gay cottagers along Van Ampsden beach visited the place wit It their guests, pointing it out in interest and wonder. Here indies and gentlemen had danced stately , minuets and plated merry games at holiday time with the hosts of the great estate. One could almost see in fancy the holly wreaths drafted through the winding balustrade. It was a fair Van Ampsden daughter who had-an-gered Iter arrogant parents by eloping with their lodge keeper's son. The young woman, it was said, still haunted the house with her wraithlike pres enee. Alan was amused; then he had an idea. The fallacy might aid him in tinding quiet quarters—it annoyed him exceedingly to he distracted while at work. The gayety of the beach was distracting, so were the people. He sought out the agent of Van Ampsden house, and rented Hie lodge gate cottage for his own quarters. When he moved in. he went three times daily to exclusive Shore Inn for meals. All around him in the neglected garden flowers hlootned and her- hummed soothingly; before him stretched the ever-changing sea. It was one evening. when lie was indulging in ar- j fist's visions, that lie first saw the specter. Silence and darkness reigned 1 in this desolate end of tile shore, when ] suddenly from the tower came a graceful white-clad figure, to move slowly around the paling* of the balcony. Then, us Alan watched, breathless in spite of his skepticism, the girlish white figure came gliding down the steep outer stair, to flit here and there among the flowers of the garden And as site came toward the lodge. Alan buried the light of Ills cigar. hut Instantly site was gone, inspired. he begun to draw from mem or, hi fat e in his pictures. Her elfist nes was the very quality lie had iniit'li desired for Georges' "Maid of Mystery!” When Georges drove out one day to call, Alan showed him these sketches and told whimsically his own story of the “Tower Lady," as he called Iter. And Georges, the writer, laughing, scented, its usual, romance. “She is probably a later.day Van Ampsden, Wendel." lie said. "Can't jrou plan to meet jier?" > «~- , But it remained /or Duncan, Alan's Scotch terrier, to bring an actual meeting about. Alan had sprained hl« ankle climbing oxer the beastly rocks, at least, that Is the way Alan ex | plained the matter to the durably sym- I pathetic Duncan. And the ustial mid { day journey to Van Ampsden Inn for ; dinner was out of the question. The artist. In his desire for uninterrupted quiet, had failed to install a telephone at the lodge. So, at last in hunger and desiteration, tie fastened a note intended for the inn steward, on Duncan's collar, and directed him out on his usual noon way. Hut the terrier, not being very wise to direction, or perhaps being very wdse indeed, went with his note straight to Van Ampsden house, and stood vigorously wag glng his tall as the Tower Lady climbed her sleep stair. When she came hack to pet him, she found the note on his collar, and this Is what she read : •‘Will whoever receives this note, see that luncheon or some sort of food Is sent Immediately to Alan Wendel at Van Ampsden Lodge?" The Tower Lady gazed sympathetically down Into the eyes of the dog. "That poor man must be starving," she said, "here, at my very door." So It happened that Alan, opening his eyes later from a troubled nap, saw the specter—a very beautiful specter—greeting him from the lodge door way, a basket on her a tut. "The Tower Lady !" he exclaimed unconsciously, while the young woman laughed. "What a fanciful name," site said, "for plain Della Brown. Of course, we all know, Mr. Wendel, w ho you are. Mother and 1 rented the tower rooms of Van Ampsden house for the summer, because they happened to lathe cheai>est rooms offered. I robably it is the high price of the lower rooms, as well as that ghostly story, which leaves them unoccupied. Mother is an Invalid; the doctor ordered her to sea air. She needs so much of nty attention that almost my only free hour Is after site is settled for the night; but the garden is loveliest in | moonlight, don t you think?" Whan Georges came out some time i later, to find why Ills artist did not j return to the city, that smiling |s>] • sou met him at Atnpsden gate* Near- t by sat a fair-faced, dusky-haired young woman. “History," the novelist reminded his friend. “re|teal» itself. Next tiling you will want to marry your 'Tower I.ntly.' " "We are ttiatried," Alsu briefly, and happily, told him.

t'epyrltfht. IttJl, Western Neivapaper Union Nestling against the marshy shore, the lake lay. like a mirror. Il was a lieautiful spot and the man with the iron gray hair conceded it: hut hi*object in coming was not to view the venery. The object was a girl, and site ,*at high on a log fence and dlsdaiued him. As he parked his ear close lo tlie edge of the water she continued busily counting the stiches of her knit-, ting; her own *iiiali car stood convenient I v near on tlie green. "Beautiful evening," she remarked, pleasantly. "Don't you like tlte way the sun turns the water to gold?" The man frowned. "1 don't like." he said angrily, "tlie way you go roaming about the country alone. This is the third evening you have been absent from dinner. I asked Tilly about it ami she told me that you had ordered tin early luncheon and gone out in your e»r. So I deliberately followt d—le tind you here. This is till very much against my wishes. You know and still disobey." Tlie jiXI folded Iter knitting and, chin In hand, looked thoughtfully out over the reflecting waters. "It Is time,” site answered decidedly, "that I do disobey. Else I shall continue tlie life of a prisoner. For ! have been a prisoner, father. In your house all my life, with neither wish nor freedom of his own. If mother had lived 1 am sure it would have been different. 1 am past tlie age of guardianship. I want to learn something of life—and love. Father"—the blue eyes challenged him—"do you know anything about love?" The man laughed shortly. "So tlmt Is it." he said. “You go rifling around alone each evening In search of romance—of love. Have you found it?" The girl nodded gravely. "I have,” site replietl, "though I did not seek it. I came hen* flrst to he away from you mid your sternness. He eame along one evening on the way to his little Ashing boat, which was lied along shore. Sometimes." tlie girl explained. naively, "they flslt all night in these waters. And something had gone wrong witli my ear. so the young man slopped and fixed it. It was a great ileal of trouble, hut lie did not mind; he smiled." Tlie girl regarded her father calmly. “I loved 1dm." she said, ‘in that moment." The man Jumped from his ear. furious with linger, and strode to the spot where she sat. "Natalie." lie cried, threateningly, hut >lie eluded him and. slipping from her posi on the top of tlie fence, ran lightly as sonte slim hoy down tlie nnrl IW patli ef i! In . ' ' Iplessly, tier ' '!ior w; lie er. She ,vas like s. u:e woodland maid in her gracefulness. Far again*! the sky. it seemed, site waded, until presently a small boat floated Inward. The father could see a man's tall figure. two strong hared arms reached out to grasp her. then the two sal sil-houette-like against the sinking sun. She, Ids daughter, tiad defied him for a fisherman. Thf- gray-haired man smiled contemptuously, then pityingly. The scene was like one from tlie movies—tlie crude shacks along the shore, thin dark haired Apollo out in the brightly reflected boat, close, very close to the girl. Even here, lie could see Natalie lean to him. bend her witching face to look up Into the face of the tisherman. "Did he know anything of love?" John Burrows asked hhii*elf her question. He had thought that he knew love years ago. until N'ai ilie's mot her confessed to him, after marriage, rliat she had given herself to him because of his money and achievements. The man she had loved was forbidden her because of his humbleness. So John Burrows, In their mutual disappointment, determined as Natalie grew that she should know nothing of love or Hs heartaches. John Burrows arose and then followed down the green trodden path. All this was iinheiievahle He would »ee this fellow and force him in Ids plaee. Tlie small boat was Just touching shore. The fisherman tossed out Id* string of gloaming fish before he n-aelied very tenderly for Natalie, liven in the dusk tier father realised Hint tenderness. Tlie man was leg and good to look upon. John Burrows saw Ids flashing smile. The young man swung sharply about. "Why. Burrows." lie cried, "so you came out to look tlie place over. I’ll tie with you in a minute. I have been practically camping here while I mapped out our job. Now the thing Is complete. Take you Into tny shack In a minute and show you. Natalie—" The young man paused In helpless confusion. The girl's arm slipped through her father's. "He doesn't know how to Introduce me,' she explained Joyously. "You set-. I thought It would he nice for he and I to take each oilier on trust for awhile Just to prove the Inilh of our love. This." she explained to her lo\er, “is my fa I her." John Burrows grasped the young man's hand. 'Why. N'aiitlie." he exelulmed. In last relief, "I know of no person I otild rather have yon meet than Neil Gordon. He I* our 1110*1 valued ett_itleer. Why. II was he who. almost tingle-ha uded. put tlirougii the big project of the llanoer fisheries bridge!" Natalie folded away h>*r knllthig. hi" free a'lii crept through I er lover's, "p thal so?" she asked with polite but iintuiived Interest.

VERSE AND SENSE

By ELIZABETH C. NICHOLS.

©. 1921. by McClure Newspaper Syndicate. For two weeks tlte atmosphere in the Davis home had been charged with a mysterious excitement which was new to thal household. Allyn had never know n his w ife Margie to keep from him a secret. He,was becoming suspicious of her behavior. Several times the telephone had rung and he had hastened to answer it, only to hear the same voice each time say. "Guess I have the wrong number," and shut off immediately. Twice when he hud arrived home earlier than usual he had heard Id* wife answering the telephone. Upon discovering that he was in the next room she had hurriedly left the telephone and had added to his auspicious by blushing emharrassedly tine morning when Margie had gone to town Allyn had been obliged to return to Ids home for some important papers. He saw on the table In the reception room not less than a dozen letters all addressed to Ids wife, ^hut not as her mail always read. These had been sent to "Miss Margie Gray Davis.” Allyn instantly decided to watch her. He would confide in no one. That night when Margie returned from town she wondered what in the world had happened to Allyn that he should lie so talkative. He had al- j ways been a dignified, stern man. preoccupied with thoughts of business, but kind to her even in his busiest moments. Allyn was practical and never hesitated to say so. At the same lime be was sensitive because of his lack of aesthetic culture, which was so highly developed in Margie. “Have you been lucky today, dear?" Margie asked. Allyn htttl been so carelessly tender and so effusive that she had decided that he must have had a stroke of good luck. ' "Oh. no!" he assured her, "only our regular business." As they left the table he watched her narrowly ns she hurried to the ^ reception room to got the mail. She , tort 1 open excitedly one envelope after | another, and with each one her dis- | appointment was reflected on her face. With the last one came a gasp. As I he hurried to her side she slipped if | I ;to the pocket of her dress and slid the others behind a howl of roses on the table. For threo months conditions did not change. Always Margie was hilling something. Always Allyn was suspleious but carefully concealing his feelings by Id* attentions to her wishes, yet keeping watch of her. I innlly at the end of three months Margie, radiantly happy, blew into his . oftlee with the fir*i fall of snow, and flourishing a magazine before bis eyes. | exclaimed: "I've made the Atlanta !” “Atlanta?” inquired Allyn. “Yes, the Atlanta. Now, what do yon think of your wife? I am in the contributors’ column. Ftoad what a puff I have." she said, passing the bewildered Allyn the magazine. "And It's all because I have written a sonnet." "Sonnet?” exclaimed Allyn. “Do you mean to toll 1110 that you have been spending your time writing fool verse?" Margie's heart turned a trick or two. a* it had a way of doing when sho was happy. But she was too near heaven for anything which Allyn might say to possibly bring her down to his practical plane of life. "Of nuirsp f have, you dear old thing. I've been writing for nuntlis. T received my first cheek three months ago. It seemevI too good to he tnte. so I derided to wait until the sonnet was published before telling you. But now It's really In the Atlanta. Isn't It glorious?" For a work Margie talked of nothing hut the sonnet, until Allyn was desperate. She repeated the words over and over: she talked about what she was gelng to do with future sonnets. At Inst Allyn could stand It no longer. He wonld go to New York for a week. But he did not ask Margie to go with him. as ho always had done. He packed his hag and hade her good by. When he retired that night at flip hotel in New York, he opened hl« bag and pulled out his pajamas. Something rattled like paper. As he turned off the light he said. "Now for a peace fill sleep. No sonnet!" As he turned on his left side he felt something stiff against his heart. Feeling In his poeket and turning on the light, he found a sheet of violet [taper neatly folded. Opening It. he read: "SONNET” by Margie Gray Davis. And across the page was penciled: “Come back soon. dear. 1 shall miss you. "Do read the sonnet carefully." “Well. I’ll lie hanged." he ex claimed. The next morning Margie received a long telegram. If was her sonnet, word lor word: but another line had been added by Allyn: "I'm waiting for you, Margie. Conte at once.” Margie hud often wondered If the Joke could have been on her. The meter mid 1 be rhyme were perfect. A Fine Wedding. “You seemed to like their wedding." "Yes. Indeed. Ours was the fluest present the bride and grimnt received.”

MAID OF THE MIST

By LUCRETIA LOWE.

©. 1921. toy McClure Newspaper Syndicate. Lenore was making speed. Crouching low to avoid the branches that overhung the river, she was fairly digging her paddle Into the water and Jerking It swiftly buck for the next stroke. An abler stretched out Its green Angers and snatched at the net which confined the wayward gold of Lenore's wonderful hair. The alder did more than tear the flimsy net; it loosened the pins and let Ihe soft waves of hair fall free about the girl's shoulders. Tossing her head, Lenore sped on. The canoe leaped convulsively up the river. Lenore was in a vicious mood. Less than an hour before she hail returned to the donor a perfectly good solitaire diamond set in platinum. She had never supposed that Boh would let her break the engagement. But he had, ami bad even seemed glad to be ritl of her. The quarrel hail been silly enough. It was over the matter of decorating the canoe that together they hud planned to enter for the boat club regatta that night. Lenore had insisted upon pink lights In crepe paper rosebuds, and Boh had wanted a blue tarlatan mist effect with Lenore at the stem as Maid of the Mist. Lenore had stamped her foot in fury as Boh showed no inclination to yield to her wishes. In the next moment she had flung his ring hark at him and her engagement was broken. She had flounced down to the pier. Jumped into the lanthe and paddled away in a rage. And now, several miles from the boat club, Lenore was still angry. She struck at a muskrat ns he leaped from the bank. She tried to knock a turtle from a snag w ith her puddle. Then an island invited her to land. Always a creature of impulse, she ran the canoe ashore and jumped out. Her white kid slipper caught In the mire nml stuck fast. I'oislng on one foot. Lenore debated whether or not to retrieve the slipper, and petulantly decided to ahandon it for the present. She hopped to the top of a little knoll and. suddenly losing her balance, sat down precipitately on the grassy incline. Turning over and lying out at full length, face down, she began to cry. Long she wept, until, wearied to exhaustion, she caught her breath In great irregular gasps, sighed many times, and fell asleep. Liltle by little Ihe river teased nl the grounded canoe and finally drew it completely oft' from the shore. It wa* the empty earns' that Bob met on his way up the river. After beaching the empty canoe Bob's first impulse wu* to leave Lenore to Iter own devices. lie l..,d u.'prised him with I t tit of eager at. . 0 had not reconi ed th blazing angry Anmz.on with the levin and lovable companion hi* bad pictured l.er. But the strength of a kind of habit of doing things for Lenore made him reluctantly decide to go to her rescue. Bob did not hurry. He dawdled along, exerting himself Just enough to njake a slow progress against the current until he eame to Ihe island where Lenore slept. He saw traces of the keel of the lanthe and recognized, with a quick thrill, the white slipper In the mud. Suddenly, through the opening In the hushes, he saw Lenore sleeping pea-e-fully on the knoll, w ith her lovely hair spread about her. A* Ibih watched her he forgot the petty quarrel, the angry departure; he forgot his surprise and his own sudden anger, anil he knew then, as he had never known before, how much tins girl meant to him and to his whole life. On the opposite side of the narrow island he moored his ennoe and waited. When the full yellow moon loomed over the black wall of pines Lenore opened her eyes. Remembering the events of the afternoon, she sprang to her feet, and in the semi-darkness leaned over to pick her shoe out of the mud. Then she uttered n sharp cry. Her canoe was not there. Tall anil slender in the light of the moon, Lenme sIimmI irresolutely on the edge of Ihe Island. The mist enshrouded her figure anti seemed to catch ami hold the moonlight in a hazy aura around the glory of her flowing hair. Her anger was gone, she was tilled with a deep regret that she had quarreled so foolishly with Bbli. Probably he was now at Ihe regalia without her. some other girl playing the maid In his blue tarlatan mist. “Maid of the Mist." she cried suddenly, with a sob at the end. "Oh. Bob, If you were only here to see me you would know that I am your Maid of the Mist I” “Are you, my darling?” Boh stepped out of the bushe* anti clasped her in his anus. "Arc you. and will you he my own dear Mist Maid?" The Maid of the Mist did not enter the regatta, for long after the prizes were awarded a man and a girl In an tMidecoruted canoe slipped down out of the darkness to the loiat rluh and. nlthough for a moment they looked down at the gay canoes on the river, they saw only the light in each other's eyes. Must Be Proved. "Well, Pat." said Bridget, “what kind of a bird have you brought home in that cage?" “Well, It's a raven,” replied Pat. "A raven? And what did you bring home a bird like that for?" "Well. I read In a paper the other night that a raven has hcen known to live for three hundred y 'if*. I don't believe it. so 1 am going to put It to the test.”

IN THE MORNING

By EDNA MARY BOOTH.

15)21, by McClure Newspaper ttymiicaktDawn was upon Treadwell Beach. Two persons min t il slowly along at the water’s edge. The one going east w as a young woman a girl. The man, who met her and passed her, was young, loo. In passing they had looked at each other with some inteiuness. The girl's lips had curved to a smile and into her eyes had come a swift touch of eagerness. The man huu raised his tap. When he reached her he stood near her anil took oft his cup, tucking It out of sight in his folded arms, before he spoke to her. "Are you looking for something that you've lost?" he asked, with easy friendliness. She glanced up at him with an expression of seriousness that was tu 1 oumat with the dimples in her soft, pink cheeks. "I'm just playing with the seaweed anil I love to poke among the rocks, hut I'm really down on the bench to look for Billy. 1 look every August," “Billy? What's Billy?" the man asked, seeking a firmer footing upon Ihe sand. “Billy is a little boy I useil to know. I mean he was a little hoy when I first knew hint." "Was that long ago?" His eyes narrowed and little lines eame into his forehead as he asked the question. “Sixteen years and it's ten years sinee I've seen him." "Sixteen years—ten years !" exploded the young man. "How you roll oft' time. One would think you were fifty." Again she glanced up from the tangle of seaweed at her feet. ‘Tin twenty," she said. "I’m old enough to know bet ter than to he talking to a stranger like this.” "Then why do you?” he asked, a leasing note coming Into his voice. But she was serious again. She swung out her stick to cover sea and shore. “I think that it is the new day that must take the hlume. It's too new for forms or conventions. And we are alone—we might he on 11 deserted shore and the cottages, lifeless ns they seem, the hills bpyortd." He turned and looked where she was looking. Inn he spoke lightly. “I see smoke coming from a chimney on the place where I am staying." She flung back quickly: "It’s come this very minute." With a cool note coming Into her voice she went on slowly: "So you are staying with the 1 'laytons?" "Yes. Where are you staying?" She swung out her slick towafd the west. "Over beyond the creek. I am with my aunt.” “You’ve forgotten about Billy." said the young man, "You've not told me why you are searehing for him.” "I just want to see him again," she explained girlishly. "We used to play together on the beach from morning until night.” “Where is he now?” “If I knew where he is. do you think l’il he here looking for him?" she queried, without turning her hett'l. "Ouch." she muttered a moment later and gave a spring to a higher place. "The tide is coming In.” she announced, looking down at her wet feet. "You knew the title was coming In. You were too near. The sea is somehing you can't—” He ga ve voice to a quick “Lydia," ami hasteiied 011. "Your name is Lydia. You said so, diti you not?” "I mentioned tny Aunt Lydia," sue explained quietly. "Tell me about Billy,” he said. She clasped her hum! over her knees. "Billy wits the nicest boy that ever lived,” she began. "When his mother tiled he tame here to live with h's grandmother, lie was eight years old mil I was four. Father kept the drug store here then. He bus a drug store where we live now. But that isn'l about Billy, is it? Billy and I fell in love at flrst sight." She threw out a little laugh that rippled over the water. The man began to make a pyramid of sand. “We livtsl only a little way frot; here," she said, with a wave of hot hiintl toward the roud. "Every day w» possibly could we Were down on th'beach to play. Billy took good care m me." She paused for » momoni. "He was fourteen when Ills father took him to Ihe other sitle of th*- continent. Before he went Billy and I came here that Billy might say good-by P the beach. It was an extremely ■or rowfttl occasion, because It was my birthday, and we'd always had sue! lovely times on my birthdays. Billy was as solriun as soleinn could be am said that sonte birthday we'd meet again on this bench, and then we'd b« old enough to get married and I'd'm his wife, ami we’d never have to part again. I think It was heeause he wn going away from a place that he I ved thal made Billy talk like that, for he wasn't tlie silly kind.” "Do you think Hint was sllJy?" a-do V the man. “For children, yes,” the girl returno ' quickly. "But somrilung In the w r Billy snltl It made me remember am' think he'll conic. My last four bird days I've walked on Treadwell Ivy! early In the morning. Billy loved early In the uio'iuln.," The man was still watching the gnP on the lock. •Tin no; coming any more to h o' for Bill.' The nan t'lrned suddenly. !••*«< In out am' 1: hi her to him. "You a mu MM’i'n j any ntoie to look for Bll j hi'iatis , 'll've loiiml I1I111. eh, Lydia -

WOO BY HAIR TONIC NO MORE Young Men With Small Wage* Find Girls Do Not Demand Aroma— Barber* Complain. Hark to ihe plaint of the barbers, enjoins the Milwaukee Journal. Days when youths were wont to stroll In. seat themselves and murmur nonchalantly. "Give me everything." are now history. Modern Lochinvars have discovered that they cun step about with the lady of their choice without surrounding themselves with the aroma of hair tonic. Barbers complain that since the business depression began and wages have come down, the Beau Bruiuiiiel of wartime prosperity who used to spend $”..'Vl every few days in Improving his personal appearance is a thing of the past. "In the days that are done the hoys would order all the frills known to the tousorial artist." said one barber. "Now they shave themselves and about once in six weeks get a plain haircut.” Another barber admitted that he Is forced to use a high type of salesmanship to convince the customer tlmt lie needs a massage. The porter, counting his nlckles when the day’s business is over, laments when he re calls the times when "two-hits" was the usual tip. The manicurist admits men aren't susceptible to being vamped.

Vaccinating Sugar Cane. The vaccinal ion or inoculation of plants in the bitterly waged light against tla’lr diseases will appeal as a novel Idea to many who have always thought of the method in eonnectlon with the prevention of htimun xml animal maladies only, a measure •>f si ■•ee.ss has attended its use by the office it foreign seed and plant inti'd'letloti Washington, ft. reports Popular Meelmnlcs. In Hie evolution of >t variety of sugar cane which will be immune to the commoner forms of disease peculiar to the plant, and especially lie so-called mosaic disease whli h has recently made Its appearance mi the sugar plantations. Seedlings from the inoculated specimens wdl he tested for immunity, and ff the experiment is the success it Is hoped it will he it is thought that a jimeticnlly disease-proof variety of blunt will be evolved.

Twice Hooked Same Fi*h. A fish story Is told by an Alberta render. While fishing in a b MV 1(11 Vancouver Island he hooked a verylarge spring salmon, hut the line broke anti the fish escaped with the sp..,„, In Its mouth. A month later, nh|u fishing In the same spot for flatfish our reader hooked a sal-ion through the hack as he was pulling his line The fish was landed safely, and to his surprise lie found the smiie spoon was in Its mouth that he had i„, s t The reader says he knows it was the same spoon, as he had made It bin,, self, and it wa» a very old pa- era This remarkable fact shows that i, s h do not travel \tery much In surami Sloop*' Sail* aa Sign Boards. Letting out advertising space on ihe sails of their sloops has become » new source of revenue to flsherno n p, the vicinity of Long Island sound, the New York Sun states. An Ingenious fisherman who sensed the value if *he great white sheet of his sloop, which sailed around the sound, passing hundreds of persons on shore and in boats, was the first to offer his -ai| for rent. Persons living in cott-i ,■< along the shore may gaze from heir windows ami see an advertlsemen- of their favorite breakfast food or coffee gliding across the waves.

Lightning Stroke Not Serious During a recent heavy electrical storm, accompanied by rain, a group of Indians at Big Gove, near IL.-hl-hucto, N. B„ gathered under a hig pine tree to keep dry. They had h.'en ttntler the shelter of the branches nly about ten minutes when u bolt of light, ning struck the tree, splitting It. Several of the Indians were knocked unconscious and the hair of one was completely burned off close to the scalp. Although he suffered this severe injury, he was quite able to continue on with his work In a day or so.

SPENT HIS MONEY. George has offered me his name. B|l> That's all lie |>Y, , has left since he's iSVi been eng. 1 god to ‘™* 4 you.

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