The Syracuse Journal, Volume 24, Number 49, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 31 March 1932 — Page 6

John Gresham’s Girl h Concordia Merrel (Copyright.)—WJTU Sonic*.

CHAPTER XIII — 22 — . “ Freedom at Last When Sir John went to the drawing room In search of Lucy, he found her sitting there, strained and waiting. She sprang up as he came in, asking: “Well?" on a sharp note of anxiety. ’‘Lucy, dear, he’s terribly broken up. . . . lie's a fine boy at heart, Lucy. . . . I could wlsn that things were. . * lie broke off. evidently tremendously wrung by the emotion he had seen in Lee and felt himself. "I must go to him. dad,” cried Lucy, her lips quivering. . . . She started for the door, but he stopped her. “Lucy, he ... he asked me not to let you go to him. . . . He doesn’t want to see you, dear. ..." ■ She turned and faced him, her eyes wide and full of pain. “He asked you ? f>ad. Is that true . . ? He really doesn’t want to see me?’’ There was a cry in those words that Sir John missed. “Yes. he said that, and. Lucy, he meant it. . , . Come home with me now, darling. . * , It is really . I best. . . The anxiety and wretchedness of the next few days were awful. Lucy couldn’t sleep f«>r wondering what Jim was doing. . . . How he was, and What he was thinking ami planning. . . . And site could not think out anything clearly, because all this put her into such a state of confusion. One thought contradicted another. One emotion was at war with the next. She ehdured foqr days of it, and then went to the flat in an endeavor to see him. ./■•■■■■. There, to her complete amazement, she found I’erry St. Abb. Hut she did hot find Jim. • lie’s gone away." St. Abb told her. “He went yesterday, and i don't know where. Nor when he’ll be back.” “Perry she crlmj. looking at him with wide, tragic eyes. “He . . . he hasn't gone . , . Utr . . . for good, has he?” “No, of course not." he s.*othc<l her. ‘•That Isn’t like him, is it?” ‘‘Oh, r don't know! I don't know, l >thuu; s so . . . confuting. . . She swallowed back the tears that were threatening Then: “Per;-.., what- made you come back to him? Hud y>U heard.., . . ?" She.br«»ke off. “Not until he told me." he answered. “I hio. h#< badly on iny cons< ience. I d Judged find ileserieti him. 1 felt that I'd nttt**d; ami that's far from being a Jolly fishing What you said the. day 1 left, haunted me a good deat S«> I came hack two days ago lie thought id heart! of his official ex on era t on. but (1 hadn’t hoard a syllable of it ; .nor of his imprisonment or anything. . . . L Just came back because I'd realized that I'd.condemned hitu. knowing nothing. . , . I' don't afi>laud the Llnforths business but I do understand It. . . .’’ St. Abb’s young, engaging ■face wins very serious; Ins Voice intensely earnest. .It . was. perhaps. one of the longest fjHtrrhrt he’d ever made in' ail his life. . . . He seemed to become aware of that, and smiled a touch self-can* •ctously us lie addi-d. with a hint of the old airiness; “So 1 suggested, that if be wanted a Man Friday again. -4 was ready to corte and spread iny footprints nil over this highly pollitthed flat of his . . . what?" A little laugh Jarred from her. It was a great relief to him to hear it. The sight of her pale strained face; the sound of her lifeless voice, cut him badly. “As for his being away now," he added cheerfully, “I don’t honestly think It means much. Just that he wanted to be by himself V . . out of town. ... Or something. . . . Really, you roustot w,,rr y about that. . . ." “No," she said, a* bravely as she could. "I suppose I mustn't. It’s a Utile dlffleult, sometime*. . . “ She stopped, and caught a sharp little breath. Then added, iu a new tone: “Did he mention Jocelyn?" “Not In detail. But enough to make me think she’d been bosy in her own rather infernal way. I saw her yesterday and had a talk with her. It was a heart-to-heart, with masks well off. I can tell you. . . / “I shall leave it at that then. Goodby, Perry; and ... and thanks for coming back to him. . . Her voice shook badly, and be suddenly couldn’t trust his own. They parted lo silence. When she got back to her father, her white face and unhappy eye* told him that something bad happened even before she broke outr “Dad. he’s gone. . . . He went yesterday, and Perry doesn’t know where he’s 'gone to, nor when he’ll be back or anvthlng. . - .** Tears threatened but she forced them back. "Oh. I knew I ought to have stayed with him that dav!” she cried out* after a moment. Sir John was startled. Jhn had promised not to go away without letting him know. Somehow, he had thought that he would keep his word. •Tie promised not to hide away. . . . Not to bolt, as he expressed It . . . I ucv I believe him. somehow. ... lie won’t . ... d ** r - •• • H f a done a lot that I'm furious about, but he’ll keep his w6rd. you 11 see. And he was right. Another two days went bv. and then Lucy had a telephone call from Perry St Abb. -I've heard from the boss,- he her. evidently very mnch self. “He’s gooe down lnl " I knew there was some perfectly *mole explanation."

“Bless you. Perry," she said, a shake of emotion in her voice. "Just stick to him.” “You can bet your life I will," he answered genuinely. She thanked him, and set down the receiver. Her hand was shaking, and hot tears were running down her face. As she turned away, she saw her father coming toward her with a letter In his hand “From Jim," he told her. "He doesn't give an address but tells me that If I want to know where he is I can And out from St Abb. So you see, my dear, I was right He hasn’t . . . er . . . bolted. . . “What has he written to you for?" she asked. “About my taking qver Llnforths. He says that h« Is not going to have anything more to do with It, and is arranging to make over his control of It to me. . . "Anything more?” asked Lucy, who did not And the question of business the most Important one Just at that moment. “Only that he has gone away for a while, as he wants to think things over, and clear his mind as to his next steps. . . He has . suffered, Lucy. , . * “Yes," she broke out passionately, “and we went yachting, and let It happen ."’ She caught a breath. "Dad," she added suddenly, “I’m going to him. I don’t care if he said a times over that he didn’t want to see me. ... I’m going to him. Now. This minute. . . . This Is Just breaking my heart. . ; She Anished on a faltering, tearful note, that made Sir John say. after a moment: “Very well, dear. If you think It best. . . . It Is your affair very much more than it Is mine, ; . Less than fifteen minutes later, Lucy was In her little two-water car, heading for the Hertfor ishlre house where her disastrous honeymoon had been spent. A suitcase, with a few necessaries hurriedly thrown Into It. was on the seat beside her; and. “Daddy.” she had said, “if he wants me to stay with him. I shall stay. .. . When she turned Into the drive, her heart was heating almost hurtlngl.v fast. She pulled up at the steps, and ran up to the door. It was fastened. When she had rung the hell and stood waiting to t>e.admitted, she felt that her heart must be going to suffocate her. The maid who opened the door was surprised to see her. but very welcoming. “Is Mr. Lee in?" she asked quickly. “Yes. madam," the girl answered, "lie's in the drawing room, I think. . . . i'll go and teli him. , . .” ” Lucy stopped her; ® “No. I'll go myself . . \ Just see' that the car is garaged, and my things taken to my room, will you?" She gave the girl her hat and coat, and went along through the familiar hall to the drawing room, opened the door quietly,, and went in. Lee was sitting by the fire, elbows on knees, his head in his hands. His attitude was one of deep dejection. The winter afternoon was already going dusky, and his head made a detail-less silhouette against tile firelight. s.lnX closed the door softly, raised a hand \* still tin* Wildness of her heart, / li!.' as she could: “Jim. . \ ” One word, but it brought him starting tip to his feet, a smothered cry breaking from his lips She came toward him slowly, half shyly; but at a closer sight of his face, pale hnd ravaged with the emotional turmoil he had gone through, tier shyneaaTdropped from her. and she saw something that the confusion of doubts and fears had obscured from tier; something she had not been sure of, since she. bad last seen him. v . . “You love me, Jim; don’t you?” she asked softljr, her Ups curved to the tenderest imaginable smile. He stmwl ■jhoti.mless tor tiie space of a breath, then turned away and put the length of the room between them before he j faced tier again and said; , “Y* •>. " “I love you. too." she answered. There was silence again. 'Them: "I tove you enough to know that I mustn't let you love uie," lie said. “And T love you enough to know that you ct\n't stop me," she said. He went on quickly: “I've done some things that you could never really overlook. Never really forgive. . . . Looking back, it's like a dream, and a mighty bad one. . . .’* He drew a deep breath, and squared his shoulders slightly before going ou; “You may* think that, you would forgive them. . . . But 1 don’t believe y hat you ever really could. . . "Suppose," she said, very quietly, “that 1 have, already?" Just for jf. fleeting moment, their eyes met across the room. Then she added: “Or suppose, rather, that I realize that It has been a dream and a . . Oh, a mighty bad one, Jim; but suppose I know that, being a dream. It therefore has nothing to do with real, waking life? Nothing. I mean, that could come between your love for me and mine for you. If yours Is anything like as big as mine: . . . Suppose I know all that? R Doesn’t It make a difference? Suppose l realize that it Isn't a question of forgiveness at all, but just a recognition of something that has been and Is past . . . ? Doesn't all that make a difference? Doesn’t It wipe oat all question of whether I will, or won't forgive In the future?" “I told your father that I would do everything In my power to pot things as right as they may be put. for you. . . . ■ There Is one thing I can give you. . . ." “And that Is?" “Your freedom.” “Jim. do you really love me?" she asked, after a moment And again he answered briefly: “Yes." “And yet you can offer me my freedom?" “Oh, Lucy," he broke out: T love yon enough . . . even enough . . . to let yoh go!" - Her voice came to him, very low and still, as she.said: “Jim. do you love me enough . , . even\enougb ... to let’me stay?” "Stay." he said, shakealy, "with me? After''all "that has happened?" -Yes." “Remember. I shall not be rich any more; ... lam making over my

share In Llnforths to your father. H “Then we won’t be rich. We’ll Just be —awfully happy. Instead.” He laughed unsteadily. “How could I let you? You who have lived in the middle of money all your life! To say nothing of having a mighty great heap of your own. . . .” “I haven’t got It now,” die answered quickly. T gave It to dad to help Gresham's along a bit, so you see I’m poor, too. . . .” He uttered a cry as he turned on his heel and stared out of the window. -So you did work against me, after all,” he said slowly. -Against you? No, dear. For you. I couldn't let you, succeed. ... Too ghastly a defeat, really. ... Aren't you sure of that yourself?” -Yes. I’m sure of It I didn't know that It was your money. . . . Doesn’t It set an Insurmountable barrier between us?” “Could mere money do such a thing? Could it be powerful enough? Besides, on the contrary, if you are going to be poor again, it makes us equal . . Without turning he said: “You are breaking down all my resolution. ... I shall have no strength against you. ..." “You never should have strength against me, Jim.” The rebuke was very gently made. He turned and saw that her arms were stretched out toward him. . . . He came plunging across the room to her, crying out. . . . "Lucy. . . . Lucy. . . .” And was on his knees before her, his arms around her girlish slightness, clinging to her as a man might cling to his one hope of salvation, “Is It true, Lucy?" he said presently, his voice very low and shaken. "True that you can love me after all I’vt done? True that you can let me love you .V “There was never anything truer,” she answered him. “But I’ve been so unpardonable to you. So brutal. I’ve even tried to cheapen .your love. . . , Oh. Lucy, that night at Newchester will take a lot of forgetting!” She raised a quick hand, and covered hill mouth to stop the words. “Jim,« when did you know first that , . , well, that it was going to he awfully difficult to go on hating me . ?" | "Looking back, I don’t believe I ever did hate you." he confessed. “It was always easy enough to* take you in my arms; easy enough to kiss your lips. . . . Ah, God, how ashamed it. makes me!" “Doh’-t let it. Face It, as something that has been a , . . mighty bad dream, Jim ; and then, cut it out and begin again from now. . . . Jlut tel? It all. so that everything Is square. . . .’’ “I know I was just sheer mad when you wouldn't come near me, those first few days. . . . I felt just utterly outcast, and yet fought against your power to make me feel so. . . . Ani when you told me to . . , give war to It . . he drew a breath, and added: “You were thinking of Jocelyn. I suppose. . . .” “Yes, she’d told me that you had always loved her, . . .” I “And, me, that you had gone to Ames! j I can't tell you what that meant to me. . . . I stood it for whole ghastly days, . . “And then came to me. . . . Jim. I don't know whether to be angry with her. or thankful to her . . .” she whispered. “At least she showed me that you loved me. ..." ‘‘Lucy.” te ; said, out of a tiny si-Ituu-e. “Be young again. I?e that young, sweet thing that first put her hand Into' mine. . . . That angel thing I . I killed . . . with th«J telling of those awful truths . . . that first evening. . . ." Ilis voice was badly shaken. “How can one ever make reparation !•” he cried. "But that's all gone bv. Jim. It’s past and done with. Reparation? That Is owing from both sides. Haven't we a big. big debt toward you? Such a debt as can never he paid, for we cannot bring back that ; lost three years. . . . Ah darling." she broke off to raise her hands to his face and bring his lips tp h l?vel with her own. “Let me pay hack a little. Let me give you all I can, to wipe out the hitter memories. . . . If all the love of my heart, and all the loyalty of my life, can compensate a little, then let them, for they are ntterly yours. . . .** Her voice died away tremulously. * “They are the only things that ean,” i he answered her. “The only thing* that can. . . And she found herself swept up close Into his arms, hi* lip* on hers, . . There was a great thankfulness tn her heart, a great peace In her soul. . . . Out of the darkness of vengeance she had foun 1 the light that a big love sheds.. Tha past seemed to fall away, as she stood there, within the strong circle of hi* clinging arms, sheer away Into tha! mists of things that are not truu. Nightmare things, that Jove had senl scattering. ... “I'm a free man at last. Lucy. . . . You have set me free. Free of ttt*» self of hate and vengeance. ... My dear, there are more kinds of prison than one. ..." “But none that love cannot enter. .. . It is love that has set yo« free, Jim." she said softly. “Love and you. . . . Do you think the two can ever be separated in my mind?” Her face .close to hia, sh* saw the white gleam of his smile j heard it, too. 1» his voice, and her spirits rose haflplly. He looked at her with worshipliv eyes. . . . Then raised his head sod- £ . denly and laughed; a ringing, triumphant sound; “God’s tn his heaven . , he said. She came to him, radiant in her happiness. “All’s right with the world," she finished for him. He caught her small hand closely lu his big one. -Rather a little girl . j * he said, bending his tall head to say It close to her ear. “Just rather a lUUs girl ...” [THE END.] Woman’* Groat Service No man ever IJved a right life whs had not been chastened by a woman’s love, strengthened by her courage, and guided by her discretion. —Rusk In.

THE SYRACUSE JOURNAL.

Who Was Who? By Louise M. Comstock

STALKY A CO. IF MASTER GIGADIBS, the wellknown Beetle of “Stalky & C 0.," seems discouragingly clever and Unreasonably lucky in getting out of scrapes to modem little boys reading this children’s classic, they have only to realize that the Beetle grew up to be none other than Rudyard Kipling to understand why. His two clas» mates In No. 5 Study, however, G. C. Beresford, the McTurk of the story, and MaJ. Gen. Lionel C. Dunsterville, Stalky himself, both have testified that Kipling's picture of his youthful school days is a bit overdrawn. Bora in India, Kipling was sent to be educated to the United Service* college at Westward Ho! In England. Here at the age of twelve the future author of “The Light That Failed” and the “Barrack Room, Ballads” showed little of the talent In concocting real-boy escapades with which he later credits himself. Instead, he spent much of his time reading at a prodigious rate. Though the King of “Stalky and C 0.,” a Mr. Crofts In real life, predicted for this queer little boy an lgnominous death “in an attic, a scurrilous pamphleteer,” others recognized his genius. Among were the head master and the_j>ddre who gave him the run of thetfr libraries, a very special privilege: McTurk, who describes him as a “sizzling, fizzling literary Impulse with a small boy tacked on behind;” and‘Stalky, who finds promise in the youthful Kipling's contributions to the College Chronicle, Os which he Was also editor. <• • • PET MARJORIE «« DET MARJORIE,” Sir Walter Scott U called her, little Marjorie Fleming who lived near him In Edinburgh, whose whimsical personality and astonishing literary career begun when she was six and ended by her death Just before she was nine, won her unusual friends In het- day and a peculiar sort of fame ever since. A Matue to Pet Marjoirie was set up Just last year in her birthplace, Klrcaldy, Scotland, and she is mentioned In the Dictionary of National Biography as one whose “life is probably the shortest to be reeordejl In these volumes, yet one of the ni(%L.charmIng characters.” Marjorie Fileming was born in ISO 3. When she was Just turning six the family moved to Edinburgh and Marjorie took up writing and commenced her famous friendship with Scott. Part of the Waverly novels were written with Pet Marjorie on the author’s knee. Sometimes she would amuse him by reciting long passages from Shakespeare; at others they would tramp together across the fields while Scott’s dog Sialda scampered joyously about them. 1 = Marjorie has left us a number of letters recording her childish' observations and philosophy, an epic in verse concerning Mary Queen of Scots, whose royalty she, upheld even .while slJKondemm-d her morals, and a Journal written between the ages of six and eight containing more observations on life and a number of poems, all of them recently republished for the modern reader. Pet Marjorie died of measles in 1811. REBECCA tt T TOW do you like your Rebecca?” fl wrote Walter Scott to Washington Irving in the letter accompanying his gift of! one'of the first copies of Tvanhoe” off the press. “Does the Rebecca I have pictured here compare well, with the pattern given?” “The pattern” from which Scott fashioned the handsome Jewess who figures so heroically in the familiar novel, was a real woman, Rebecca Gratz. whose lovely person and lovelier deeds were well known to early Philadelphians and whose grave may be seen today in the Mikve Israel cemetery on Spruce street. Hers was a story of star-crossed love. Born of an aristocratic and Influential Jewish family, well educated, a beauty, she was the center of one of the most distinguished social groups of the postRevolutionary period. When she fell lo love with a man of another falt!b than her own, she made a costly decision In favor of her family's religion. and devoted her life thereafter to philanthropy and deeds of goodness that doubly endeared her to all who knew her. Thus, it was in the arms of Rebecca Gratz that died Matilda Hoffman, beloved of Washington Irving. On a subsequent visit to Scott In England Irving poured out his sorrow to his friend, relating In connection with Matilda's death the heroic story of Rebecca Gratf. All who know and lore the Rebecca of Tvanhoe’' pay unconscious tribute to this heroic girL (©. 111!. R **l»ra Newspaper Union.) “Mammy Traas” Protected Seed trees left by a large lumber company operating in Arkansas and Louisiana have been dubbed “mammy tree*’’ by negro cutter*, who zealously guard against cutting them down. Several large trees, previously marked with a distinguished white streak, are left on each acre to assure the seeding in of a new crop of young trees, according to the United States Department of Agriculture. Medal Had Com* Far A copper medal Struck in 1736 with the likeness of Andre Hercules de Fleiirv. French cardinal bishop and chit minister during the early part of the reign of Louts XV, was found In a well near Phoenix, Aria. Explaining tj* Planets An Eighteenth century scientist explained the' origin of the planets by saying that they were splashed out of the sun In a collision between the sun and a comet.

OrchardistsSeek Eight Cost Cuts

Hope for 1932 Held Out to Fruit Growers of Illinois.

An eight-point program designed to help orchardists cut their production costwand get at least a small margin of profit In 1932 is being pushed throughout the state by the extension service of the Illinois College of Agriculture, University of Illinois. Thirty county schools are being held to acquaint fruit growers with the eight points. They are: (1) Economical spraying; (2) tree thinning and culling; (3) gross pruning Instead of detail pruning wherever possible; (4) less cultivation; (5) use of more horse power and less tractor power; (6) quantity buying of materials; (7) revaluation of investment to lessen overhead expense, and (8) repair, rather than replace machinery. Many Illinois orchards are planted too close, which makes the work in them expensive, according to R. S. Marsh, horticultural extension specialist of the college. Hence, the most timely thing that orchardists can do is the tree thinning and culling. Culling out unprofitable varieties or poorly located trees is just as necessary as removing the non-layers from a poultry flock or the low-producing cows from the dairy herd. “Trees are now living longer and developing larger tops as a result of better spraying methods and increased use of fertilizers. Hence, they should have mofe space and should not crowd each other. Where trees are planted on the square system, alternate diagonal rows can be removed with profit where they are toe thick. A 20-by-20-foot orchard would be 28 by 28 after diagpnal rows were removed, or a 3OJ>y 30 orchard would be 42 by 42. Some new peach orchards are now planted 28 by 2S, and the recommendation for apple trees has been 40 by 40 for the past 20 years. “Several Illinois orchardists this year are thinning and culling trees, since last year’s fruit prices and this year's prospects make it an easier job then when market prices are higher. Although this recommendation will reduce the acre yield temporarily. It will Increase the'yield, for each man-hour, which is more economical at the pTesent time.” , Bindweed Always One of Hardest to Exterminate The perennial bindweed is one of the most persistent weeds, and if is very difficult to kill. If one attempts to kill it by hoeing every time it shows ahove : ground one. is usually tired doing this before the weed is killed. .Sodium chloride, however, works down Into the plant, and will, no doubt, lengthen the period of new growths above ground. Thus, it will weaken, sooner, and, if one sprays, just as soon as if appears ea«?h time, one should be able to exterminate it. You might start with about four ounces of sodium chlorate to a gallon of.water, and spray this over about one. hundred square feet of ground, thoroughly saturating the leaves, If you find this, does not kill the leaves increase the strength until they are killed. While we have not heard of this weed being eradicated, altogether by spraying, it is worth trying. Potatoes could not grow so long as the spraying was continued.—Montreal Herald. 3 Terracing Made Easy Terracing is such a simple, easy Job that no farmer can afford to let tiis top soil wash away. Charles F. Holder. Grayson county. Texas, had lost most of the top strata of soil on one 15-acre field. There were ditches difficult to cross and others that could not he crossed. Fertilizer washed away before crops had an opportunity to utilize it. Mr. Holder decided to terrace. With a. steel ditcher and four mules, he and a young son in five days built a series of four terraces totaling nearly a mile in length. The ditches no longer interfere, washing has been •stopped and fertilizer remains on the field to be utilized by crops.—Capper’s Farmer. ‘ Live Stock on Feed Cattle feeding in the corn belt states Is 5 per cent less than a year ago, but 8 per cent greater in the states east of the Mississippi river. Nebraska has 20 per cent less cattle on feed than a year ago. while the feed lots of ;the western state* show a decrease of 17 per cent —„ There were 14 per cent more, sheep on feed in the whole United States than a year ago. The corn belt states have a marked increase in sheep feeding and the western states also show a gain. Nebraska is feeding 800,0»>0 bead of sheep this year—Nebraska Farmer. , Alfalfa Alfalfa needs more lime than any other common forage crop. All soils In the East except those of limestone origin need lime for alfalfa, and even limestone soils, such as those In the Shenandoah valley, are often acid at the surface and need lime. The form of lime makes little difference provided it supplies enough calcium oxide. Soils that have not previously been limed will usually require at least one ton of burned lime or Its equivalent to the acre. Saltsick According to jbl receat bulletin of the Florida experiment si|ftKi, the condition in cattle known as “salt-sick” is due to, deficiency of iron or iron and copper In the ration. It can be prevented by giving the cattle access to a mixture of 100 pounds common salt, 25 pounds red oxide of iron* and one pound of finely ground copper sulphate. According to the Investigators, this trouble Is the (fattest single cause of loss to the cattle industry In Florida,

FEW FISH ESCAPE PURSUIT OF OTTER Among all the animals that are good fishermen, there is probably none more capable than the otter. You can often locate him by finding broken shells of shellfish, of which he, seems to be especially fond. He leaves the scattered fragments of his meal on the banks of streams and lakes and among the rocks. The coat of the otter is of brown fur, and it is so valuable that, in order to prevent men from taking It from him, as he prefers to wear It himself, he hides away near secluded lakes or water courses far from any place wherfe men live. He is almost twice the size of the mink, being often 40 Inches long, and looks something like a seal when he is partly out of water and his wet fur gleams in the sun. This clever fisherman Is the champion of the fishing veterans who wear fur. No fish is too swift for him. Whereas the mink prefers to take his fishing easily, the otter dives, swims or floats after his prey. He is an expert swimmer and can dart about under the water with wonderful speed, so that no fish has much of a chance when he goes fishing. He always catches his fish. Another water dweller who sometimes get credit as a fisherman, but lives on a vegetarian diet, is the beaver. The beaver builds his home >ut in the water and there stores-up his winter food. He likes the bark of trees and these he cuts down when they are succulent and tender with the sap. He gathers enough to tide him over the winter time, and lives on his hoard, leaving the fish, strangely enough, strictly alone. Double Purpose Served in Odd Statue Designs On a nobleman’s estate in Silesia there is a collection of some of the most curious statues in the world. The statues are carved in linden wood and are slightly more than life size. They comprise a considerable number of figures, which include the 12 Apostles, a few saints, peasant wonie-n and even a figure representing the former lord of the manor, who is seen with his arm linked through that of a soldier comrade. All of the statues are hollow and each one of them is a beehive, openings in the backs of the figures providing for the entrance and exits of the honey-gathering insects. The records of the manor show that the first of the wooden statues was put in place in the year 1600.—Philadelphia -Record Sunday Magazine. Engine Govern* Speed If a man will but build an engine powerful enough there is nothing to keep him from flying at a speed of I.OOQ miles a hour, believes Squadron Leader A. 11. Orlebar, captain of the Schneider cup team, riiembers of which have already flown in excess of 400 miles* *n diour. >“Flying at high speeds is a perfectly wonderful sensation,” he 'Said. "But there realty Is no big thrill. There is a much bigger thrill in tobogganing or skiing. If somebody will design the engines there is nothing in the human element to prevent airplanes reaching a Speed of 1,000 miles an hour." Store With a History One of’the oldest stores in Philadelphia is this year celebrating its one hundred and eighty-first nnniver •sary. It is a little gunsmith shop and ’was first opened for business in 177*1. The site was originally sold by William Penn tn 10S4 and William Drinker erected a building in which the first white child born in the-Quaker colony was born. Up-to-Date Ducks Mary’s mother raised a large flock ofwilk ducks this year. One windy day they all took to the air. Mary never had seen them on the wing before and ran to her mother, saying, “Oh, look, mother. Our ducks all have airplanes!” Man has his troubles the same as woman, but he lias less to say about them. Improving the world consists in 2 per cent of denunciation and 98 per cent action.

Stronger than He Was at Twenty

mly, «^r***V

FIFTY-FTVE years old, and still going strong! Do you want the secret of such vitality? It isn’t what you eat, or any tonic you take. It’s something Anyone can do—something you can start today and see results in a week! All you do is give your vital organs the right stimulant. A famous doctor discovered the way to stimulate a sluggish system to new energy. It brings fresh vigor to every organ. Being a physician’s prescription, it’s quite harmless. Tell your druggist you want a bottle of Dir. Caldwell’s syrup pepsin. Get the benefit of its fresh laxative herbs, active senna, and that pure pepsin. Get that lazy liver to work, those stagnant hotels into action. Get rid of waste matter that is slow

Now keep nose open all night Use this cream—You breathe freely—Catarrh disappear* In less than a minute the clogged application of ELY’S CREAM BALM will keep you breathing freely and keep your head clear for at least 10 hours. This fragrant, soothing antiseptic is the best thing you can use for keeping the nose clear, for relieving head colds and Catarrh. It penetrates and clears up every air passage in the head, soothes the inflamed or swollen tissue and brings instant relief I Try it Sold by all druggists. Modern Help Lady (at employment agency)— Have you your references with yon? Cook—Yes’m! have you? Pure Blood; Was Rundown, Nervous Pierce’s P Golden Medical Discov- H I know to Cad effects of colds jlsk said Mrs. Rose Davis, of 306 South sth St. “Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription, too, benefited me wonderfully when I was rundown, weak and nervous from woman's ailment. I Would advise any one to try these remedies.” Fluid or tablets. All druggists. Medical advice is free to oaere of Df. Pierce** medicine*. Just write to Dr. Pierce’• Clinic in Baffale, N. Y. Audiences seem to be this way: If they must be offered a vamp, they like to see the designing lady thrown contemptuously aside. COLDS ~ RUB Musterole well into your cbett .and throat—almost instantly you feel easier. Repeat the Musterole-rub once on hour for five hours • . . what a glorious relief! Those good old-fashioned cold remedies—oil of mustard, menthol, camphor —are mixed with other valuable ingredients in Musterole to make it what doctors caU 3i“counter-irritant ,f because it gets action and is not just a salve. It penetrates and stimulates blood circulation and helps to draw out infer- # tion and pain. Used by millions for 20 years. Recommended by many doctor* and nurses. All druggists. To Mothers—Musterole is also mode in milder form for babies and small children. AskforChil - A statesman with his ear to the ground may hear only all footsteps departing. • " ■ . DoYou BILIOUS ATTACKS ijj&j Constipation will upset '* ~ " your entire system and bring on dyspeptic, nervousness pnd lack of pep. Common as it is, many people neijlect thi* troubledhd lead themselves into seriou* ailments; Yoifr doctor will tell you th* - importance of keeping bowels open. The easy, safe remedy is Dr. Morse'* Indian Root Pills, mode of pure herb* and roots. They not only cleanse but also regulate. At all druggists. Dr.MorseS INDIAN RGDT PILLS Mild a Gentle Laxative Some men talk more religion in tea minutes than they practice in ten years. The old seadogs we read so much about are probably mast-stiffs.

poison so long as it is permitted to remain in the system. The neto energy men and women feel before one bottle of Dr. Caldwells syrup pepsin has been used up is proof of how much the system needs this help. Get a bottle of this delicious syrup and let it end that constant worry about the condition oMhe bowels. Spare the children fhose bilious days that make them miserable. Save your household from the use of cathartics which lead to chronic constipation. And guard against auto-intoxication as you grow older. Dr. Caldwell’s syrup pepsin is such a well known preparation you can get it wherever drags are sold and ti isn’t expensive.