The Syracuse Journal, Volume 5, Number 49, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 3 April 1913 — Page 6

CONSTIPATION Many on’s Paw-Paw Pills are unlike all other laxatives or cathartics - They coax the L*X*WS liver into activity by gentle methods, they ■" W j| T « do not scour; they do fa a |?7 a I UT? not g r *P®’ not l uli|aweaken; but they do tT-Vt $ start all the secretions of the liver and stomPW«**” '™* ach * na wa y ti ,at soon puts these organs in a healthy condition and corrects constipation. Munyon’s Paw-Paw Pills are a tonic to the stomach, liver and serves. They invigorate instead of weaken; they enrich the blood instead of impoverishing it; they enable the stomach to get all the nourishment from food that is put into It Price 25 cents- All Druggists. Stiff Joints Sprains,Bruises ats relieved at once by an applicati >n of Sloan’s Liniment. Don’t rfab, just lay on lightly. “ Sloan’s Liniment has done more good than anything I have ever tried for stitf joints. 1 got my hand hurt so badly that 1 had to stop work right In the busiest time of the year. I thought at first that 1 would have to have my hand taken off, but I got a bottle of Sloan’s Linimeut and cured my hand. WBEBUJt. Morris, Ala. Good for Broken Sinews O. G. Jones, Baldwin, L. 1., writes : —“I used Sloan’s Liniment for broken Sinews above the knee capcaused by a fall and to my great satisfaction was able to resume work in less than three , weeks after the accident.” SLOANS LINIMENT Fine for Sprain Mr. TTsnry A. Voehl, 84 Somerset St., Plainfield. N. J., writes :— “ A friend sprained his ankle so badly that it wont black. He laughed when I told him that I would have him out j ° in a week. I applied Sloan’s Liniment fig S and in four davs he was working and said Sloan’s was a right good Liniment.” Price 25c.. 5 50c., end SI.OO L,. Sloan’s Bock / ‘on horses, cattle, a sheep and / =**s/ poultry sent free. / e.JfJ Address * zsr \ Dr. Earl S. Sloan Ms oisfiguredly SKIN ERUPTION ff That Is Your Plight, Let Resinol Clear It Away! Pimples, blackheads, rashes, ringworm ptd, worst of all, that red, itching, scaly iorment, eczema, vanish when you use Resinol Ointment and Resinol Soap, there is no doubt about it. Even though your skin is so unsightly with miption that you shun your friends and your friends shun you, Resinol makes it dear and healthy, quickly, easily and at triHing cost. When you arc sick of wasting time and money bn tedious, expensive treatments, get Resinol Ointment and Resinol Soap from the nearest druggist ind you will quickly see why it has been prescribed for eighteen years for just such troubles as yours. The Resinol treatment works so gently, and is so absolutely free from anything that could injure even the tenderest skin, that it is perfect for healing the skintroubles cf infants and children. You can test Resinol Ointment and Resinol Soap kt our expense. Write to Dept. 5-K, Resiaol, Baltimore, Md., and we will send you I generous trial. Resinol Ointment (50c and |1) and Resinol Soap (25c), by parcel post »n receipt of price. Saskatchewan Year Opportunity is fWW ■ in tho Province of Saskatchewan, Western Canada g iy" Do you desire to get a MBHW free 1! omeslead of 160 ——.aMKjHIIMMWBiwKACRES of that well known Wheat Land? The area Is becoming more limited tf-'.fa.fo jKwtfl but n o less valuable. MVSfSXfiH . NEW DISTRICTS nave recently been opened up for LJvjfl settlement, and into these rallfflittMlSg roads are now being built. The lA.?’ r vv®s3 da 7, ’’ lli soon come when there F_j3 bo no &'* e Homesteading Wt A Swift Current, Saskatchewan, I-.G3E farmer writes; “( came on my WCSw'jj'iy bomestesd, March 1906, with about ''V'el.WU worth of horses and niacbinL&JSf&tKR ery. and just 335 In cash. Today I ty.p-SaA ‘I have 900 acres of wheat, 300 acres of oats, and 50 acres of flax.” Not bad for sl< years, but only an Inll RyuE-V of what may be done In ' KtA items'* Western Canada in Manitoba, Saskatchewan or Alberta. JTs'z" onc « for Literature, $ Maps, Ra-uway Rates, etc., toW - S- NETHERY, 41 a SlltbVtn 81.hu., Toledo Ohu ar ' 215 TracU<,a IndianapllU Government Agents, or address Superintendent of Immigmtlan, Ottawa, Make the Liver Do its Duty Nine times in ten when the liver i. light the stomach and bowels are right BARTER’S LITTLE JVER PILLS ' jentlybutfirmly EftoW* Core, Co-BITTLE rttpation, ■ I VER £s" k> ”’O: Headache, ~ ‘ ’ usd Distress After Eating. MALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE. Genuine must bear Signature HBortCoaghSyra*. TiatosQwsd. UmE| tatfias. SoMbyPnusMa.

Untold agony Is what a woman su£ fers from tight shoes. < Delicious brown cakes made from Mrs. Au» tin’s Bag Pancake Flour. All grocer*. Adv. The chap who is an expert at mak* ing excuses can never draw large fees for his skill. Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup for Chlldres teething, softens the gums, reduces inflammation,allay s pain.cures wind colicJJoc a bottled* The first condition or Unman goodness is something to love; |the second, something to reverence.—Cieorge Eliot. When a married man has a good disposition it’s probably because his wife won’t stand for any other kind. PILES CURED IN 6 TO .14 DAYS Your druggist will retund money if PALO OINTMENT falls to cure any case of Itching, Blind, Bleeding or Protruding Piles in 6to 14 days. 6Uo. No Sympathy. “He lost money in a wheat deal." “Then I tfhven’t a grain of sympa' thy for him.” Dr. Pieroe’s Pellets, small, sugar-coated, easy to take as candy, regulate and invigorate stomach, liver and bowels and cure constipation. Adv. Not Quite. “Is he what you might call a police captain at large?” “No; he’s only out on ball.” —Town Topics. , * Circumstantial Evidence. “Did you find our poor friend’s-spir-its were broken?” “Yes, in away. He was ordering nothing but brandy smashes.” And Yet the Dance Halls Thrive, Young Man (approaching a girl)— “Er-er —may I have this one? Oh, you’re too kind. You don’t mind If 1 hum, do you? Do you know, I’m just dippy over this here dip. Tee-hee, joke. Floor’s swell tonight, ain’t it? Geo, but I like to dance with you! Tell that to every girl? Not on your life! Seems as if I must have met you somewheres before. Wish I had. though. Well, I’ll be; that’s all. Short and sweet, yep—just like you. Tee hee. See you later.” Was Much Impressed. A little girl who had acted as ring> bearer at a cousin’s wedding was Inclined to view her part of the impreslve ceremony with great seriousness. One day some time afterward the child heard her grandmother talking of her possible future marriage. “You know, I’m half married already,” the child earnestly remarked. “Half married already! What de you mean, child?” asked the surprised grandmother. “Why, don’t you remember when J carried Cousin Carrie’s wedding ring?” “Improved” Bull Fight. A bull tight in Tokio is quite an much excuse for a gala day as a bull fight in Madrid. Business nen leave their offices, and women and children their homes, to hurry to the arena. Stripped of all the less exciting, or less horrible, preliminaries which characterize the Spanish bull fight, the animals are brought in and sent at each other at once. So the battle is shorter, and two or three more fights will follow in quick succession during the course of an afternoon’s “en tertainment.” Warranted in Using Cuss Words. A small boy in Fort Scott was oth playing with his wagon one day ana just at the critical moment one wheel came off. The youngster walked around the wagon several times and surveyed it with the air of one accu» temed to disappointments. As he dragged the wagon to his home he met a boy friend who joined him, and together they trudged on, the Fort Scott Tribune says. The owner of the wogon sat on the front step with a forlorn look; then quickly brightening up he exclaimed: “Let's cuss.” “All cuss.” —Kansas City Star. It Didn’t Matter. When Fred Kelly made a start in journalism he was put on reporting One night he was sent to a big fir» down town. A reporter named Brown was sent with him. It w’as a large fire, and presently Bro.wn disappeared. A wall had fallen, and Kelly was sure Brown was under it. He rushed to the telephone and called up his city editor. J “Say,” he shouted into the tele phone, “Brown Is gone. He’s burned up!” “What’s that?” asked the city edl tor. “Brown is burned up, I tell you He fell into the fire.” “All right,” said the city editor, hanging up the telephone, “I’ll send down another man." THE KNOW HOW To Feed Children and Get Good Re- * d suite. There are more nervous persons made so by undigested food lying in the stomach than the average individual would suppose. If Jood remains undigested in the stomach, it begins to ferment, set up gas and a large portion is thus converted into poison. That’s why imperfectly digested food may, and often does, cause irritation of the nervb and ' tupor of the mind—brain and ~rves are really poisoned. “My daughter had complained for some time of a distressed feeling in the stomach, after eating, w-hich set me thinking that her diet was not right,” writes an anxious and intelligent mother. “She had been fond of cereals, but had never tried Grape-Nuts. From reading the account of this predigested food, it seemed reasonable to try Grape-Nuts for her case. “The results were really wonderful.’ The little brain that seemed at times unable to do its work, took on new life and vigor. Every morning, now, before going to school, she eats the crisp little morsels and is now completely and entirely well, she seems to have a new lease on life—no more distress in the stomach, nor headache, but sqund and well everyway." Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Read the book*, “The Road to Wellvllle,” In pkgs. "There’s a Reason.” BSver read the abave letter? A new eaa appeara from time to time. They are •eaulae l trao, aad tpU of hamaa

O/STANT9N ELEANOR MJX P INGRAMy- 7 • Il 'A Game and FREDERIC THORNBURGa

SYNOPSIS. At the beginning of great automobile ■ace the mechanician of the Mercury, Stanton’s machine, drop* dead. Strange couth. Jesse Floyd, volunteers, and is accepted. In tlie rest during the twentyfour hour race Stantdn meets a stranger. Hiss Carlisle, who introduces herself. CHAPTER ll,—(Continued.) “My father is president of a tire company,” she idly remarked. “His ires are being used on some of the ?ars, the Mercury for one, I believe, tnd he wanted to watch their testing mder use. So, after a dinner engagement we could not escape, we moored down here from the city. You see I have not viewed much of the race. I admit this does not look very perilous and I am a bit disappointed. again her short crystal laugh, “1 shall hope better things of the famous Stanton; I want to admire him very much. But I am detaining you, and ,’ou were leaving! Every thanks for • r our patience.” “Hardly leaving, since the twenty’our hour race is not six hours old,” te corrected briefly. “I am glad to lave been of any use to you.” She returned his salute; then, upon he cool impulse of one accustomed to ioing as she chose, put her question lirectly; “Ah—l am Miss Carlisle; I would ike to know who has been good •uough to aid me in my ignorance.” “My name is Stanton,” he complied, ind went on. From the shelter of the obscurity he ooked back. She had taken a step forward into the light and her veil lad slipped aside as she gazed after lira with an expression of acute and ?ager interest. She could not have X’en older than, twenty-four or five, >vith a finely cut, beautiful face ’ranted in waves of fair hair. Floyd was sitting on a camp-stool lutside the tent, chatting with a zroup of men, when Stanton returned. The rest had brought back the mechmician’s color and animation; in fact, ae looked ridiculously young and ir’esponsible. But he sprang up readly at the driver’s nod. “Time?” he asked, his gray eyes ike burnished steel. “Yes,” Stanton confirmed. And to he nearest man: “Bring in the car.” There was an obedient commotion. Several men ran to flag the other driver; Floyd caught up goggles and i-ap, and knelt to tighten a legging strap. As Stanton made his own prepirations, Mr. Green bustled up to him. “We’re leading,” he reminded superfluously. “There isn’t, really, any need for extra fast work, Stanton.” Stanton snapped a buckle, saying nothing. “I telephoned to the* office and told Rupert he needn’t come: I told him .hat you had a new man.” “Well?” “He said, ‘Poor mut.’ ” The driver straightened to his full height, his firm dark face locking to bronae inflexibility. “You had better report his sympahy to Floyd, whom it’s meant for,” he advised hardly. “I'm not interested, if the company doesn’t like the way I drive, let them get some one in my place; but while I do drive the car, I drive, and not Rupert or Floyd, or—any one else. I’ll neither take risks p.or shirk them to order.” The assistant manager choked, speechless. He had no way of knowing why Stanton flashed a sullen glance toward the row of automobiles before the grafid-stand, or who was meant by that “any one else.” Meanwhile, he was intractable, he was insubordinate, and he was obstinate — but he was Stanton. The Mercury rolled in, ths two men climbed from their seats, and there was a momentary delay for tank filling. Stanton took his place, experimentally speeding and retarding his motor while he waited for the workmen to finish. “Stop a minute while I fix the carburetor,” requested Floyd, from beside the machine. “It’s colder late at night like this. Wait, you’ve dropped your glove.” Stanton silenced the engine. Something in the fresh voice, the boyish grace of the slight figure, the ready courtesy of the act, stirred him with a strange sensation and pricking shame at his own brutality. “Poor mut,” a whisper repeated to. his inner ear. When Floyd offered the gauntlet, the other dropped a hand upon his shoulder. “Are you riding with me because you want the money badly enough to chance anything,” Stanton demanded harshly, “or because you, are willing to trust my driving?” Taken by surprise, open astonishment crossed the younger man’s face, but his eyes did not flinch from the ones behind the goggles. “I think you’re the best driver on the track,” came the steady answer “And I'd rather trust myself to your recklessness than to some one else’s mistakes, if you want to know. I guess you can steer straight enough tor both of us.” Stanton’s .hand relaxed its hold. “Go fix your carburetor. Yes, I can steer —straight.” Again the blue-black eyes flashed sneering defiance toward the grandstand; for the moment, Miss Carlisle’s hope of witnessing desperate feats by the Mercury car seemed far from realization. But the Mercury had not circled the mile oval four times when the Duplex, its choked feed-pipe cleared at last, burst from the paddock with its master driver at the wheel and bent on the recovery of lost time. The Mercery was on the back stretch of track, running casually near sixty miles &t the moment

“Car cornin’,” Floyd cautioned suddenly. Stanton raised his head, alert a fractional second too lat<, and his closest rival shot past him, roaring down the white path. It was too much; Floyd and Miss Carlisle sank out of memory together, as Stanton reached for throttle and spark. The Mercury snarled and leaped like a startled cat. The dull period was over. The Mercury car was slightly the faster, but the Duplex held the inside line, and the difference between the drivers w;is not in skill so much as in daredeviltry. Slower machines kept conservatively out of the way as the dangerous rivals fought out their speed-battle. Three times Stanton hunted the Duplex around the track, gaining on each lap, until the last circuit was made with the cars side by side, a flaming team. The spectators, scanty at this hour before dawn, rose, applauding and cheering, as the two passed again, Still clinging together. But gradually it became evident that Stanton, who held the outside, was steadily crowding the Duplex toward the paddock fence. Nor could the Duplex defend itself from the maneuver which must ultimately force it to fall behind at one of the turns or accept destruction by collision. The machines were so close that a swerve on the part of either, the blow-out of a tire or a catch in the ruts cut in the track at certain points, meant ungentle death. Mercilessly, gradually, Stanton pressed his perilous advantage. And at the crucial moment he heard a low, exultant laugh. “Cut him closer!” urged bis mechanician’s eager, excited accents at his ear. “We’ll get him on this turn — he’s weakenin’— Cut him close!” The comrade triumph came to Stanton as an unaccustomed cordial. They were passing the grand-stand, just ahead lay the worst curve. It was partly reputation which won. If the Duplex had held firm, the Mercury must in self-preservation have yielded room. But the driver knew Stanton, guessed him capable of wrecking both by obstinate persistence in attack, and dared not meet the issue. There came the gun-like reports of a shut-off motor, the Duplex slackened its furious pace, and Stanton hurtled past him on the turn itself, lurching across the ruts, and led the way down the track. The witnesses in stands and paddock went frantic. Floyd pumped oil. Stanton snatched a glance at the miniature watch strapped dn his wrist, over his glove, and slightly reduced speed. The maneuver had been successful, but the driver knew that it might have called down upon him the judges’ just censure and have sent him from the track, disqualified. , The number of laps steadily grew on the bulletin register. A faint, dull light overspread the sky, the forerunner of the early summer dawn. At four o’clock the Mercury unexpectedly blew out a tire, reeling across to the fence line from the shock and the jar of sharply applied brakes. Stanton said something, and sent his car limping cautiously around to the camp where its repairers stood ready Floyd slid out of his hard, narrow seat rather stiffly. The cold grayness was bright enough now to show the streaks of grimy dust and oil wherever the masks had failed to protect

K ip* “For Mr. Stanton,” the Boy Insisted the men’s faces, and the effects of fatigue and strain of watching. Stanton looked fori the inevitable pitcher of water, but found himself confronted instead with a grinning, admiringly awed mess-engei* boy who held out a cluster of heavy purple “What?” marveled the disgusted driver. “WhaKidiotic trick—” “For Mr. Stanton, sir,” deferentially insisted the boy; who would have addressed the president as “bo,” and gibed at the czar. Stanton caught the blossoms roughly, anticipating a practical joke from some fun-loving fellow-competitor, and saw a white card dangling by a bit of ribbon. “Thank you,” he read .in careless penciling. “1 Have no laurel wreaths here, so send the victor of the hour my corsage bouquet.” She had had the imprudence, or the cool disregard of comment, to use one of her own cards. Valerie Atherton Carlisle, the name was engraved across the heavy pasteboard. She had thought that wild duel with the Duplex was an exhibition given for her,that at her wanton whim he had jeopardized four lives, one his own. With. a strong exclamation of contempt Stanton moved to fling the flowers aside to the path before the Mercury’s wheels, then checked himself, remembering appearances. The orchids curled limply around his warm fingers; suddenly the magnificent arrogance of this girl struck him with angry humor, and he laughed shortly. “Throw them in the tent, Blake,” he requested, tossing the bouquet to one

cf the men. "They’ll wither fast enough.” The new tire was on. As Stanton turned to his machine, after tearing the card to unreadable fragments, he saw Floyd watching him with curious intentness. A raw, wet mist had coifimenced to roll in from the near-by ocean. The promise of dawn was recalled, a dull obscurity closed over the motordrome, leaving even the search-lighted path dim. The cars rushed on steadily. The night had been singularly free i from accidents. Only one machine I had been actually wrecked, although ! three had been withdrawn from the ! contest. The officials in the judges’ i stand were congratulating one an- ' other, at the moment when the second disaster occurred. The mist had grown thicker, in the ' lights a dazzling silver curtain before ; men’s eyes, and the track had been worn to deep grooves at the turns The Mercury was sweeping past the grand-stand, when one of the two ' slower cars, Ijeing overtaken, slipped j its driver’s control, caught in a footdeep rut, and swerved crashing into the machine next it. Twice over it rolled, splintering sickeningly, but flinging both of its men clear of the wreck. The car struck, plunged on around the curve into the mist, apparently unhurt. Out across the damp dusk pierced the shriek of the klaxon, mingled with the cry of the people and the tinkle of the hospital telephone. Stanton, swinging wide to avoid the pitiful wreckage, kept on his course. “Stop!” Floyd shouted imperatively besfde him. “Stop, Stanton, stop!” ' Stanton sped on, disregarding what he supposed was a novice’s nervous sympathy. He could not aid the stunned men lying on the track, and one glance had told him that they could,be safely passed; as indeed they had been. “Stop!” the command rang again; and as Stanton merely shook his head with impatient annoyance, the mechanician swlftl.v stooped forward. The motor slackened oddly. Before the astounded driver had time to grasp ! the situation, the power died from under his hands and the car was only carried forward by its own momentum. Automatically he jammed down the brakes and turned in his seat to confront his companion in a wrathful amazement choking speech. Floyd faced him, even his lips white beneath his mask, but with steadfast eyes. “I know,” he forestalled the tempest. “You’ve got the right to put me off the ear—l threw your switch. I’ve got nothing to say. But the mist lifted and I saw what lay ahead.” What lay ahead? The klaxon was shrieking madly, from all around the track came the sound of halting cars. The rising wind pushed along the fog walls again, and they opened to reveal the second machine of the late accident, not twenty-five feet ahead, a tilted, motionless heap. After the collision it had staggered this far, to go down with a broken rear axle and two lost rear wheels. Its men were still in their seats unhurt. There was an iTrstant of silonce. The avoided disaster was no excuse for the mechanician’s interference, nor did Floyd offer it as such, well aware that his driver was perfectly justified in any course he chose to take. There j can be but one pilot at any wheel. “Since I suppose you are not equal j to cranking a ninety Mercury, you ! had better fix the spark and gas while j I start it,” dryly suggested Stanton- I “And —never do that again.” He stepped out and went to the ’ front of his car, seizing the crank i and starting the big motor with an exertion cf superb strength which would indeed have been impossible to the slender Floyd. When he retook his seat, the mechanician made his equally laconic apology and acknowledgment of error. “I never will,” Floyd gave his word. The wind shook the mist more strongly, streamers of pink and gold trembled across the sky. The day had commenced. > (TO BE CONTINUED.) GAVE OF SURPLUS WEALTH Rich Men in Other Days Lavish Their Donations to Their Favorite Cities. “Many a man who has inherited millions,” once said Frederic Harrison, “is gnawed with envy as he watches a practical man turning an honest penny. How he would like to earn an honest penny! He never did; he never will; and he feels like a dyspeptic* invalid watching a hearty beggar enjoying a bone or a crust. Many a rich man is capable of better things; but he does not know hqw to begin!” The ancient law suggests a restoration of the liturgies, the public services, of rich men as they were organized in the model Greek republics. “At Athens the liturgies were legal and constitutional offices imposed periodically and according to a regular order by each local community on citizens rated as having capital of more than a given amount. . . . It always re mained a public office, a duty to be filled by taste,- skill, personal effort and public spirit. Rich men contend ed for the office. The chief ambition of a rich man caffie to be that of making splendid gifts' to his fellow citizens, and theaters, stadiums, colonnades, aqueducts. gardens» libraries, museums, pictures, statues —all were showered upon favorite cities by wealthy men who possessed or coveted the name of citizen.” A few multimillionaires in our American republic have made public benefactions. May their tribe increase! ‘ The gift of a public hospital or a school building is always in order. —The Christian Herald. Fireman’s Unique Wedding. A fireman’s wedding in a burnt-out church is certainly something of a novelty. Such a wedding has just taken place in the chancel of St. George’s, Leicester, the greater part of the building having been destroyed by fire last year. It was the first fireman’s wedding in Leicester, and the bridegroom’s colleague, formed a guard of honor and arranged an arch of axes, etc., under which the brtde and bridegroom passed out after the ceremony. Fireman Stutges, the bridegroom, was among those who fought the flames at St. George’s last October. —London TitBite.

UN OLD MAN’S FOLLY Scapegoat of the Family Went West and Made a Big i Fortune By H. M. EGBERT. “I don’t see why 1 should be the father of two sons so different as James and Ernest,” Farleigh would say dolefully to his acquaintances. “It almost stems as though nature had mixed all the good qualities into James and left my younger son with out any.” “But Ernest means well,” Mrs. Farleigh would sigh. “He may mean well,” answered the merchant testily. "The trouble is he has no character; he can’t stick at anything.” Most of the Farleighs’ friends agreed with this diagnosis. But Minna Gray dissented secretly. Minna was the only child of an old friend and former business partner of Farleigh; he paid a half share of the profits to her trustees; and Minna liked Ernest Farleigh. “You see, it's this way, Minna,” Ernest confided, when he was about twenty-two. “The old man thinks I’m good for nothing because I haven’t made a shining mark at literature—at my age. Why, it takes years and years to win a reputation, to say nothing of 'money. Then, when I saw he wouldn’t give me time, I volunteered to go into the business under James, although I loathed it And after a couple of months I found what I had always suspected—that I had no head at all for figures. So I told offc —— l • o “What’s That?” father so—and now he says I have no tenacity of purpose. And he’s offered me a thousand dollars to go West and make my fortune.” “But I believe in you, Ernest,” said Minna proudly. She would have added “dear” if he had given her the least encouragement. But Ernest would not woo the heiress until he was financially—if not her equal, at least able to support her. So Ernest went West, and in three months his money had gone into a deep hole in the ground. Then, overcome by homesickness and a longing to see Minna again, he returned. He had only meant it to be a flying visit, and he had money enough to support himself while he was in the East —nearly a hundred dollars, in fact. But James had taken advantage of his brother’s absence to prejudice his father against him—James, the model son, who never appeared a minute late at the office or left a minute early and was now booked to succeed his father. So that Ernest was received with distinct coldness and ostracised by his father’s friends: After three days he could endure this treatment no longer. *“Minna,” he said, “I guess the people were right when they said 1 was a failure.” i “O, no. you aren’t," she answered confidently. “I know that you will succeed.” t “I’m not coming back until J do,” said Ernest Farleigh. “Minna, if ever I do. will you ” / Minna came up close to him and lifted her face so spontaneously that there was no need to say anything more. In fact, both had always known that this must be the end of their long friendship; their love was the stronger because of its slow development. “I shall always wait, dearest,” she whispered as Ernest set out for the West again. , Two years passed; Ernest’s letters came regularly. He had been a miner, a camp cook, a real estate agent, a stage-coach driver; somehow he never seemed to make money. Then Mrs. Farleigh was taken ill with a lingering sickness. Ernest scraped together all the money he could collect and hurried home. He appeared, poorly dressed, tremulous with eagerness to see his mother again. He was one hour too late. His father _ did not speak to him that day. He was broken down by the shtick and planned to turn the business over to James. «James treated his brother with derisive contempt. On the next afternoon Henry Farleigh suddenly stamped into the room where his younger son sat brooding over his loss. “I -don't want you in my house,” he shouted, beside himself with grief and passion. “I have wasted hundreds on you; you have proved yourself worthless. When you can come back with five thousand dollars you may resume your filial relationship to me. Till then never let me see your face again.” The old merchant was not wholly heartless, but he had idolized his younger son in youth, and when Ernest had disappointed the hopes that he had entertained of him his love changed to bitterness and hatred. Ernest went out of the room quietly. “I shall wait for you always," whispered Minna as she, alone of all, stood with him upon the station plat-

form. But the tone of hope was gone W and there was the sound of despair ■ in the words. Ernest was now nearly iK six and twenty; Mitina was a yeatß younger. It was four years since shH-Wi had begun to dream of their home together. Yet she respected his desire to make something of a name or fortune before meeting marriage. Hee money was a millstone round her loving heart. Then the years rolled by and Ernest’s letters became fewer and fewer. In- each Miuna seemed to. see the severing of another bend between them. Ernest was now working on a newspaper. or, rather, he had been working on newspapers. But he never sent Minna anything that he had written: his letters were becoming more and i more distant Meanwhile James Fhrleigh assumed control of the business. The old merchant Whs now completely under hisson’s dominance. That was the year when James began to pay attention Ito Minna—at first. he visited her to i discuss business matters, then his vis- ' its became more personal. One evening he brought the current of his speechifying to its channel. He asked Minna to be his wife, pointing out the advisability of uniting the capital in one large undertaking. He hoped to be enormously rich, he said; they would spend their honeymoon abroad, and Here Minna interrupted , him ! “There is one thing you have forgot- : ten to tell me, James,” she said. “What’s that?” “That you love me.” answered. I “I adore Jou,” cried James in simu- | lated ecstacy, and tried to seize her i hand. Minna drew herself away. I “I don’t believe you, James Far- ! leigh,” the girl answered indignant- : ly. “And I do not love you.” “But there is nobedy else?” he stut-1 Itered. “Oh! There is somebody.”’ iHe came nearer. “I know who it is, I too,” he sneered. “It is that sneak- | ing hound of a brother of mine.” “That is quite enough." cried the : girl. “You need not- come here any more. And if you need my capital i you can apply to my trustees.” she i added bitterly. “They'll do what is I fair—l’ll see to that.” i “Perhaps you don’t know why the j old man turned against Ernest,” he • said. “It wasn’t because he was idle and dissipated; no, that wouldn't have ; been enough. It was because he * I forged a check.” “You are lying, James Farleigh, and you know it.” retorted Minna Gray, and James went out. That year ter trustees, old men, both of them. died. James was instrumental in the appointment, of their successors. A week- later they sanctioned the investment of her I money. The new stores sprang up all i over the town. But James was never I at business; he was speculating .Wall street. Then came the panic and the crash. Securities dropped to half their value. About this time James endeavored to see Minna again. He waylaid her and met her one evening when she was returning home. He begged her to marry him. Minna was touched by his humility. Besides, Ernest’s letters had ceased six months before and she was hurt and angry. In the revulsion of feeling she was almost friendly to James. I She consented to renew their forme? ■ intimacy. She and James were enga.'“'d. Erai est received a letter briefly announcI ing this, and saying that the marriage was to take placS the following; j month. That brought him hurrying ' home. And it happened that he arrived at a critical moment. The store was bankrupt , Thei branch stores were all involved. The I fortune accumulated by old Farleigh had been burned up like waste paper. And James Farleigh was in debt to the tune cf nearly $200,000. All Minna’s capital would hardly fill the holeand stave dff the creditors, * That was the time when Ernest ap-. j peared once again .at his father’s 1 house. In the room, when he was announced, were the old merchant. James and Mipna. Ernest came innot badly dressed, but unmistakably out of place among the mahogany and the Persian rugs.. He stood still, surprised at meeting Minna there, though he might have been prepared. Minnagreeted him coldly. “This is your son, Ernest,” she said; to the old z man, who, half blind, lay on the lounge, his face turned inquir ’ ingly toward the newcomer. i I “I have no son,” answered Henry I Farleigh. “When he comes back x. prosperous man I shall receive him again; I will help him no more” “You hear that?” inquired mes coldly. “Good-morning. This is m. house.” Ernest laughed. It was not the timid, deprecating laugh of former days, but a ringing laugh of healthy amusement. “I understood that this house was for sale,” he said. “Wbat's that?" cried Henry Farleigh sharply- “Your house for sale, - James? He must be crazy. I gave you this house.” James had nevet taken Minna cr the merchant into his confidence. Supremely selfish and egotistical, he had cowered beneath the blow, hoping to keep them in igaerance until Mipna had settled her money on him. “He's just lying,” answered James coldly. Ernest Farleigh laughed again. “O. no. I’m not lying,” he said. “I have the title deed under my coat I bought this house yesterday, James.' “What’s that?” shouted tbi e)’d ’ man, addressing his-son for thd first time. “Have you made.your fortune, Ernest?” “Not yet," answered Ernest. “Just a couple of million that I picked up on the west coast Father—” his voice faltered as he crossed the room and sat down upon the couch—“father, I guess you were right in your estimate of me before. Bjjt I have succeeded now; and I’ve come back for two purposes: to save your fortune and to claim my bride.” “Ernest,” said the old merchant, “come here. I’ve been pretty much of a fool, but thank God I’m not too old to change. Will you stay home and be m y son and forgive an old man’s folly ? ’ “If Minna says so,” answered (Ernest. But he saw that there was no need of Minna’s answer. (Copyright, 1913, by W. G. ChapmaAj t