The Syracuse and Lake Wawasee Journal, Volume 15, Number 17, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 24 August 1922 — Page 2

«'MOST A MAN." SYNOPSIS.—A foreword tells thts: Motoring through Arizona, a party of easterners, father and daughter and a male companion, stop to witness a cattle round up. The girl leaves the car and Is attacked by a wild steer. A masterpiece of riding on the part of one of the cowboys saves her life. Then the story begins: Clay Lindsay, rangerider on an Arizona ranch, announces his intention to visit the •'big town.” New York. On the train Lindsay becomes interested in a young woman. Kitty Mason, on her way to New York to become a motion-picture actress. She is marked as fair prey by a fellow traveler, Jerry Durand, gang politician and ex-prize fighter. Perceiving his Intentions. Lindsay provokes a quarrel and throws Durand from the train. On his first day in New York Lindsay is splashed with water by a janitor. That individual the range-rider punishes summarily and leaved tied to a fire hydrant. A young woman who sees the occurrence invites Clay into her house and hides him from the police. Clay's "rescuer” Introduces herself as Beatrice Whitford. Lindsay meets her father, Colin Whitford. and is invited to visit them again. He meets Kitty Mason by accident. She has been disappotated in her stage aspirations, and to support herself is selling cigarettes in a cabaret Clay visits her there. Kitty is insulted by a customer. Clay punishes the annoyer. After a lively mlxup Lindsay escapes. Outside, he is attacked by Jerry Durand and a companion and beaten Insensible. Lindsay’s acquaintance with Beatrice Whitford ripens, Through her he is introduced into "society." His "side partner” on the Arizona ranch, Johnnie Green, comes to the "big town.” The two take an apartment together. Word comes that Kitty Mason is in trouble. Clay goes to the rescue and is helped by Annie Millikan. He comes on a party of “gunmen,” obviously waiting for his appearance. Lindsay “gets the drop” on the thugs, locks them in a room, and escapes.

CHAPTER IX—Continued. But miracles are made possible by miracle-workers. The Westerner was a sixty-horse-power dynamo of energy. He felt responsible for Kitty and he gave himself with single-minded devotion to the job of discovering her. When Clay met Kitty at last it was quite by chance. As it happened, Beatrice was present at the time. He had been giving a box party at the Empire. The gay little group was gathered under the awning outside the foyer while the limousine that was to take them to Shanley’s for supper was being called. Colin Whltford, looking out into the rain that pelted down, uttered an exclamatory "By Jove!” Clay turned to him inquiringly. “A woman was looking out of that doorway at us," he said. “If she’s not in deep water I'm a bad guesser. I thought for a moment she knew me or some one of us. She started to reach out her hands and then shrank back.” “Young* or old?” asked the cattleman. “Young—a girl.” “Excuse me.” The host was off in an instant, almost on the run. But the woman had gone, swallowed In the semidarkness of a side street. Clay followed. Beatrice turned to her father, eyebrows lifted. There was a moment’s awkward silence. "Mr. Lindsay will be back presently,” Whltford said. “We’ll get in and wait for him out of the way a little farther up the street.” When Clay rejoined them he talked in a low voice with Beatrice’s father. The mining man nodded agreement and Lindsay turned to the others. "I’m called away,” he explained aloud. “Mr. Whitford has kindly promised to play host in my place. I’m right sorry to leave, but it’s urgent.” His grave smile asked Beatrice to be charitable in her findings. The eyes she gave him were coldly hostile. He knew Beatrice did not and would not understand. The girl was waiting where Clay had left her, crouched against a basement milliner’s door under the shelter of the steps. “I—l’ve looked for you everywhere,” moaned the girl. “It’s been —awful." “I know, but it’s goin’ to be all right now, Kitty,” he comforted. “You’re goin’ home with me tonight. Tomorrow we’ll talk it all over.” He tucked an arm under hers and led her along the wet, shining street to a taxicab. She crouched in a corner of the cab, her body shaken with sobs. The young man moved closer and put a strong arm around her shoulders. “Don’t you worry, Kitty. Yore big brother is on the job now.” He knew her story now in its essentials as well as he did later when she wept it out to him in confession. And because she was who she was, born to lean on a stronger will, he acquitted her of blame. CHAPTER X Johnnie Makes a Joke. As Kitty stepped from the cab she was trembling violently. “Don’t you be frighteend, li’l pardner. You’ve come home. There won’t anybody hurt you here.” The Arizonan ran her up to his floor in the automatic elevator. “I’ve got a friend from home stayin’ with me. He’s the best-hearted fellow you ever saw. You’ll sure like him," he told her without stress as he fitted his key to the lock. In another moment Lindsay was introducing her casually to the embarrassed and astonished joint proprietor of the apartment. The Runt was coatless and in his stockinged-feet. He had been playing, a doleful ditty on a mouth-organ. Caught so unexpectedly, he blushed a beautiful brick red t® hie neck

The Big-Town Round Up By WILLIAM MAC LEOD RAINE Copyright by William MaoLood Rains

“Heat some water, Johnnie, and make a good stiff toddy. Miss Kitty has been out In the rain.” He lit the gas-log and from his bedroom brought towels, a bathrobe, pajamas, a sweater and woolen slippers. On a lounge before the fire he dumped the clothes he had gathered. He drew up the easiest armchair In the room. “I’m goln* to the kitchen to Jack up Johnnie so he won’t lay , down on his job,” he told her cheerily. “You take yore time and get Into these dry clothes. We’ll not disturb you till you knock.” When her timid knock came her host brought In a steaming cup. “You drink this. .It’ll warm you good.” “What Is it?” she asked shyly. "Medicine,” he smiled. “Doctor’s orders.” While she sipped the toddy Johnnie brought from the kitchen a tray upon which were tea, fried potatoes, ham, eggs, and buttered toast. The girl ate ravenously. It was an easy guess that she had not before tasted food that day. Clay kept up a flow of talk, mostly about Johnnie’s culinary triumphs. Meanwhile lie made up a bed on the couch. Once she looked up at him, her throat swollen with'emotion. “You’re good.” “Sho! We been needin’ a liT Sister to brace up ©ur manners for us. It’s lucky for us I found you. Now I expect you’re tired and sleepy. We fixed up yore bed in here because it’s warmer. You’ll be. able to make out with it all right. The springs are good.” Clay left her with a cheerful smile. “Turn out the light before you go to bed, Miss Colorado. Sleep tight. And don’t you worry. You’re back with old home fotks again now, you know.” Tired out from tramping the streets without food and drowsy from the toddy she had taken, Kitty fell into deep sleep undisturbed by troubled dreams. The cattleman knew he had found her in the nick of time. She had told him that she had no money, no room in which to sleep, no prospect of work. Everything she had except the clothes on her back had been pawned to buy food and lodgings. But she was young and resilient. When she got back home to the country where she belonged, time would obliterate from her mind the experiences of which she had been the victim. It was past midday when Kitty woke. She found her clothes dry. After she dressed she opened the door that led to the kitchen. Johnnie began to bustle about In preparation for her breakfast. “Please don’t trouble. I’ll eat what you’ve got cooked,” she begged. “It’s no trouble, ma’am. If the’s a thing on earth I enjoy doin’ It’s sure cookin’. Do you like yore aigs sunny side up or turned?” “Either way. Whichever you like, Mr. Green.” While she ate he waited on her solicitously. Inside, he was a river of tears for her, but with it went a good deal of awe. Even now, wan-eyed and hollow-cheeked, she was attractive. In Johnnie's lonesome life he had never before felt so close to a girl as he did to this one. “I —I don’t like to be so much bother to you,” she said. “Maybe I can go away this afternoon.” “No, ma’am, we won’t have that atall,” broke in the range-rider In alarm. “We’re plumb tickled to have you here. Clay, he feels thataway too.” “I could keep house for you while I stay,” she suggested timidly. “I know how to cook —and the place does need cleaning.” “Sure it does. Say. wha’s the matter with you bein’ Clay’s sister, jes’ got The Runt Was Coatless and in His Stockinged-Feet. in last night on the train? Thn’s the story we’ll put up to the landlord If you’ll ginune the word.” Johnnie told the story of the search for her. with special emphasis on the night Clay broke into three houses in answer to her advertisement. “I never wrote it. I never thought of that. It must have been —” “It was that scalawag Durand, y’betclia. I ain’t still wearin’ my pinfeathers none. He was sore because Clay had fixed his clock proper.” “I’ve got no place to go, except back home —and I’ve got no folks there but a second cousin. She doesn’t want me. I don’t know what to do. If I had a woman friend —some one to tell me what was best —” v Johnnie slapped his hand on his knee, struck by a sudden Inspiration.

SYRACUSE AND LAKE WAWASEE JOURNAL

“Say l Y’betcha, by Jollies, I*ve got *er —the very one! You’re d —n —you’re sure whistlin’. We got a lady friend, Clay and me, the finest little pilgrim In New York. She's sure there when the gong strikes. You’d love her. I'll fix it for you—right away. I got to go to her house this afternoon an’ do some chores. I’ll bet she comes right over to see you.” Kitty was doubtful. “Maybe we better wait and speak to Mr. Lindsay about it.” she said. “No. ma’am, you don’t know Miss Beatrice. She’s the best friend. Why, I shouldn’t wonder but that she and Clay might get married one o’ these days. He thinks a lot of her.” “Oh!” Kitty knew just a little more of human nature than the puncher. “Then I wouldn’t tell her about me if I was you. She wouldn’t like my bein’ here.” t “Sho! You don’t know Miss Beatrice. She grades ’way up. I’ll bet she likes you fine.” When Johnnie left to go to work that afternoon he took with him a resolution to lay the whole case before Beatrice Whitford. She would fix things all rfc?ht. If there was one person on earth Johnnie could bank on without fail it was his little boss. -'•V * # • * It was not until Johnnie had laid the case before Miss Whitford and restated it under the impression that she could not have understood that his confidence ebbed. He had expected an euger interest, a quick enthusiasm. Instead, he found in his young mistress a spirit beyond his understanding. Her manner had a touch of cool disdain, almost of contempt, while she listened to his tale. She asked- no questions and made no comments. What he had to tell met with chill silence. Johnnie’s guileless narrative had made clear to her that Clay had brought Kitty home about midnight, had mixed a drink for her. and had given her his own clothes to replace her wet ones. Somehow the cattleman’s robe, pajamas and bedroom slippers obtruded unduly from his friend’s story. Even the Runt felt this. He began to perceive himself a helpless medium of wrong impressions. “I suppose you know that when the manager of your apartment house finds out she’s there he’ll send her packing.” So Beatrice summed up when she spoke at last. “No, ma’am, I reckon not. You see we done told him she is Clay's sister jes’ got in from the West,” the puncher explained. “Oh, I see.” The girl’s lip curled and her clean-cut chin lifted a trifle. “You don’t seem to have overlooked anything. No, I don’t think I care to have anything to do with your arrangements.” Beatrice turned and walked swiftly into the house. A pulse Os anger was beating in herzsoft throat. She felt a sense of outrage. To Clay Lindsay she had given herself generously in spirit. She had risked something in introducing him to her friends. They might have laughed at him for his slight soclal lapses. They might have rejected him for his lack of background. They had done neither. He was so genuinely a man that he had won his way Instantly. Pacing up and down her room, little fists clenched, her soul in passionate turmoil. Beatrice went over it all again as she had done through a sleepless night. She had given him so much, and he had seemed to give her even more. Hours filled with a keen-edged delight jumped to her memory, hours that hud carried her away from the falseness of social fribble to clean, wind-swept, open spaces of the mind. And after this—after he had tacitly recognized her claim on him —he had insulted her before her friends by deserting his guests to go off with this hussy he had been spending weeks to search for. Not for a moment did she admit, perhaps she (lid not know, that an insane jealousy was flooding her being, that her indignation was based on personal as well as moral grounds. Something primitive stirred her —a flare of feminine ferocity. She felt hot to the touch, an active volcano ready for eruption. If only she could get a chance to strike back in away that would hurt, to wound him as deeply as he had her! Pat to her desire came the opportunity. Clay’s card was brought in to her by Jenkins. “Tell Mr. Lindsay I’ll see him in a few miriutes,” she told -the man. The few minutes stretched to a long quarter of an hour before she descended. As soon as his eyes fell on her. Clay knew that this pale, slim girl in the close-fitting gown was a stranger to him. Her eyes, star-bright and burning like live coals, warned him that the friend whose youth had run out so eagerly to meet his was hidden deep in her today. “I reckon I owe you and Mr. Whitford an apology,” he said. “No need to tell you how I happened to leave last night. I expect you know.” “Why take the trouble? I think I understand.” She spoke in an even, schooled voice that at him at a distance. “Your frieud, Mr. Green, has carefully brought me the details I didn’t knew.” Clay flushed. Her clear voice carried an edge of scorn. “You mustn’t judge by appearances. I know you wouldn’t be unfair. I had to take her home and look after her.” f “I don’t quite see why—unless, of course, you wanted td,” the girl answered, tapping the arm of her chair with impatient finger-tips, eyes on the clock. “But, of course, it Isn’t necessary I should see.” Her cavalier treatment of him did not affect the gentle imperturbability of the westerner.

she’s s little girl who came from my country and can’t hold her own here, because she was sick and chilled and starving. Do you see now?” "No, but It doesn’t matter. I’m not the keeper of your conscience, Mr. Lindsay,” she countered with hard lightness. “You’re judging me just the same. If you’d let me bring her here to see you—” “No, thanks.” “You’re unjust." “You think so?” “And unkind. That’s not like the little friend I’ve come to —like so much.” “You’re kind enough for two, Mr. Lindsay. She really doesn’t need another friend so long as she has you,” she retorted with a flash of contemptuous eyes. "In New York we’re not used to being so kind to people of her sort.” Clay lifted a hand. “Stop right there, Miss Beatrice. You don’t want to say anything you’ll be sorry for.” “I’ll say this,” she cut back. “The men I know wouldn’t Invite a woman to their rooms at midnight and pass her off as their sister —and then expect people to know her. They would be kinder to themselves —and to their own reputations.” “Will you tell me what else there jvas to do? Where could I have taken her at that time of night? Are repuPacing Up and Down Her Room, Little Fists Clenched, Her Soul in Passionate Turmoil. table hotels open at midnight to lone women, wet and ragged, who come without baggage either alone or escorted by a man?” “I’m not telling you what you ought to have done, Mr. Lindsay.” she answered, with a touch of hauteur. “But since you ask me—why couldn’t you have given her money and let her find a place for herself?” “Because that wouldn’t have saved her.” “Oh, wouldn’t it?” she retorted, dryly. He walked over to the fireplace and ■put an elbow on the corner of' the mantel. “Lemme tell you a story, Miss Beatrice.” he said presently. “Mebbe It’ll show you what I mean. I was runnin’ cattle in the Galiuros live years ago and I got caught In a storm ’way up In the hills. When it rains in my part of Arizona, which,ain’t often, it sure does come down in sheets. The clay below the rubble on the slopes got slick as ice. My hawss, a young one, slipped and fell on me, clawed back to Its feet, and bolted. Well, there I was with my laig busted, forty miles from even a whistlin’ post in the desert, gettin’ wetter and colder every blessed minute.

ROBIN IS A PUBLIC BENEFACTOR

Hard to Estimate What the Country, as a Whole. Owes to Industrious f Small Bird. There are robins throughout the land. Every morning at daybreak a wave of robin song rolls across the United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Who does not recognize this cheering lay as that of our old friend. Robin Redbreast? Nevertheless, he is not a robin at all. The real robin is a little red-breasted resident European bird about the size of a bluebird. and our robin is really a large migrating thrush. Rut the Pilgrim Fathers found it here, and as it reminded them of the English robin, they named it robin in memory of the little feathered friend in the old home;.and, all ornithologists to the contrary notwithstanding, the name sticks. One of the first things the robin does when it comes home in spring and settles down for the summer is to look for a mate, if not already mated, and then to begin to build a nest. As It raises two or three broods in a season. It must begin early and the nest must be constructed to withstand storm, frost and cold. So the little architect makes the walls of mud and finishes and lines it with nonconductlve materials to keep in the heat and keep out the cold. If the weather Is favorable, the nest is soon built, but if storms prevail it is long in building and sometimes Is forsaken altogether for another constructed under more auspicious skies. When the little blind, naked, helpless nestlings have broken the shell and been carefully brooded for a time,

“There wasn’t a chance In a million that anybody would hear, but I kept firin’ off my fohty-flve on the off hope. And Just-before uight a girl on a pinto came down the side of that uncurried hill found a bend and got me. She took me to a cabin hidden in the bottom of a canon and looked after me four days. Her father, a prospector, had gy ne to Tucson for supplies and we were alone there. She fed me, nursed me, and waited on me. We divided a one-room twelve-by-sixteen cabin. Understand, we were four days alone together before her dad came back, and all the time the sky was lettin’ down a terrible lot of water. When her father showed up he grinned and said. ‘Lucky for you Myrtle heard that six-gun of yores pop!’ He neyer thought one evil thing about either of us. He just accepted the situation as necessary. Now the question is, what ought she to have doue? Left me to die on that hillside?” “Os course not. That’s different,” protested Beatrice. indignantly. “You’re trying to put me in the wrong. Well, I won’t have it. That’s all. You may take your choice, Mr. Lindsay. Either send that girl away—give her up—have nothing to do with her, or—” “Or—?” “Or please don’t come here to see me any more.” He waited, his eyes steadily on her. “Do you sure enough mean that, Miss Beatrice?” Her heart sank. She knew that she had gone too far, but she was too imperious to draw back now. “Yes, that’s just what I mean.” “I’m sorry. You’re leavin’ me no opfion. I’m not a yellow dog. Sometimes I’m ’most a man. I’m goin’ to do what I think is right.” “Os course,” she responded, lightly. “If our ideas of what that is differ—” “They do.” “It’s because we’ve been brought up differently, I suppose.” She achieved a stifled little yawn behind her hand. “You’ve said it.” He gave it to her straight from the shoulder. “All yore life you’ve been pampered. When you wanted a thing all you had to do was to reach out a hand for it. Folks were born to wait on you, by yore way of it. You’re a spoiled kid. Ask me to turn my back on a friend, and I’ve got to say, ‘Nothin’ doin’.’ And if you was just a few years younger I’d advise yore pa to put you in yore room and feed you bread and water for askin’ it.” The angry color poured into her cheeks. She clenched her hands till the nails bit her palms. “I think you’re the most hateful man I ever met,” she cried, passionately. His easy smile taunted her. “Oh, no, you don’t. You just think you think it. Now, I’m goin’ to light a shuck. I’ll be sayin’ good-by. Miss Beatrice, until you send for me.” “And that will be never,” she flung at him. He rose, bowed and walked out of the room. The street door closed behind him. Beatrice bit her lip to keep from breaking down before she reached her room. CHAPTER XI A Lady Wears a Ring. Clarendon Bromfield got the shock of his life that evening. Beatrice proposed to him. It was at the Roberson dinner-dance, in the Palm room, within sight but not within hearing of a dozen other guests. She camouflaged what she was doing with occasional smiles and ripples of laughter intended to deceive the others present, but her heart was pounding sixty miles an hour. Bromfield was not easily disconcerted. He prided himself on his aplomb. But for once he was amazed. “I beg your pardon.” Miss Whitford laced her fingers round her knee and repeated. Her

the struggle to lind food enough to fill those hungry caverns within begins. Now the robin becomes a benefactor of mankind, for every day and every hour of tlie day those yawning mouths must he filled with worms, grubs, cutworms, caterpillars and many kinds of destructive insects. He brings them to the nest, from one to twelve at a time, and in rearing two or three broods he slays his thousands of our insect foes. —State Ornithologist of Massachusetts. Early Workers in Copper. From the very remotest times copper has been a favorite with metal workers. The Assyrians, Egyptians. Persians and Greeks were line metal workers and claim some of the best specimens of the art. including the liand-hanmiered copper statue of Pepi I, a great Egyptian king, who reigned in 2000 B. C. Another great work of art is the Great Gate of Chalmaneser 11, an Assyrian king contemporary with Ahab of biblical times. The British museum contains a masterpiece of hand-ham-mered copper known its The Sirus —a pair of shoulder pieces for a suit of armor, picturing a Greek warrior and an amazon in combat. Scores of European cities—particularly In Belgium—have beautiful statuary, roof ornamentations and other large pieces of hand-hammered copper. Free and independent. “Why didn’t you laugh at the boss’ joke. Bill?” “Don’t have to; I qplt Saturday."

•yes were hard and brunuui a* u.«. moods. “I was wondering when you are going to ask me again to marry you.” Since she had given a good deal of feminine diplomacy to the task of keeping him at a reasonable distance, Bromfield was naturally surprised. “That’s certainly a leading question,” he parried. “What are you up to, Bee? Are you spoofing me?” ‘Tm proposing to you,” she explained, with a flirt of her hand and an engaging smile toward a man and a girl who had just come into the Palm room. “I don’t suppose I do it very well, because I haven’t had your experience. But I’m doing the best I can.” His lids narrowed a trifle. “Do yon mean that you’ve changed your mind?” “Have you?” she asked, quickly, with sidelong slant of eyes at him. “I’m still very much at your service, Bee.” “Does that mean you still think you want me?” "I don’t think. I know it.” “Then you’re on,” she told him with a little nod. “Thank you. kind sir.” Bromfield drew a deep breath. “By Jove, you’re a good little sport. Bee. I think I’ll get up and give three ringing cheers.” “I’d like to see you do that.” she mocked. “Os course you know I'm the happiest man in the world,” he said, wtih well-ordered composure. “You’re not exactly what I’d call a rapturous lover. Clary. But I’m not, either, for that matter, so I dare say we’ll hit it off very well.” “I’m a good deal harder hit than I’ve ever let on. dear girl. And I’m going to make you very happy. That’s a promise.” Nevertheless he watched her warily, behind a manner of graceful eagerness. A suspicious little thought was filtering through the back of his mind. “What the deuce has got into the girl? has she been quarreling with that bounde. from Arizona?” “I’m glad of that. I'll try to make you a'good wife, even if—” She let the sentence die out unfinished. “May I tell everybody how happy I am ?” “If you like,” she agr'eed. “A short engagement,” he ventured. .“Yes.” she nodded. “And take ma away for a while. I'm tired of New York, I think.” “I’ll take you to a place where the paths are primrose-strewn and where nightingales sing.” he promised, rashly. She smiled incredulously, a wise old little smile that had no right on her young face. The report of the engagement spread at once. Bromfield took care of that. The evening of the day the Runt heard of the engagement he told his friend about it while Kitty was in the kitchen. ‘‘Miss Beatrice she’s wearin’ a new ring,” he said byway of breaking the news gently. Clay turned his head slowly and looked at Johnnie. “Bromfield?” he asked. “Yep. That’s the story.” “The ring was on the left hand?” “Yep.” Clay made no comment. His friend knew enough to say no more to him. Presently the cattleman went out. It was in the small hours of the morning when he returned. He had been tramping the streets to get the fever out of ids blood. But Johnnie discussed with Kitty fit length this new development, just as he had discussed with her the fact that Clay no longer went to see the Whitfords. Kitty made a shrewd guess at the cause of division. She had already long since drawn from the cowpuncher the story of how Miss Beatrice bad rejected his proposal that she take an interest in her. “They must ’a’ quarreled —likely about me being here. I’m sorry yot told} her.” don’t reckon that’s it. Miss Ren trice she’s got too good judgment fm that.” “I ought to go away. I’m only briim ing Mr. Lindsay trouble. If lie jus “I Was Wondering When You Were Going to Ask Me Again to Marry You." could hear from his friends in Arizona about timt place lie’s trying to get me, , I’d go right off.” He looked at her wistfully. Kittyhad begun to bloom again. Her cheeks were taking on their old rounded contour and .occasionally dimples of de light flashed into them. Already the marks of her six-weeks’ misery among the submerged derelicts of the city was beginning to be wiped from her mind like the memory of a bad dream from which she had awakened. Love was a craving of her happy, sensuous nature. She wanted to live in the sun among smiles and laughter. She was like a kitten in her desire to be petted, made much of and admired. Almost anybody who liked her could win a place in her affection. "Jim'd croak me if he knew I’d given thizl” iTO BE CONTINUED.)

CROPS ALL GOOD Western Canada Farmers Jubilant Over Prospects. Harvest In Southwestern Manitooa Expected to Come Close to Bumper Yield of 1915. Those who have friends in Western Canada will be anxious to leurn of the conditions there, and will he interested in knowing that generally the crop prospect is very favorable. Cutting and harvesting have become general. and it is anticipated that the results which will aryteur when thrashing is completed will be highly satisfactory. With the widely varying weather conditions that have prevailed In the different sections of the prairie provinces it would be Impossible to forecast with any degree of accuracy as to how the crop is made. The Manitoba crop has held its own, and the outlook for the province as a whole is decidedly good. With the exception of an area south and west of Brandon, grain crops in Manitoba continue to give promises of a good harvest, the best in fact for a number of seasons, reports the Canadian National Railways for the week ended July 22. Recent rains and favorable temperatures have improved conditions wonderfully. Southwestern Manitoba will reap a harvest which will nearly equal the bumper harvest of 1915. Farmers in the district are very optimistic. The rye crop is exceptionally good; many fields will yield upwards of 30 bushel* per acre. The fields are remarkably free of weeds, and the grasshopper menace, which has been evident in the southwestern portion of the ptovince for the past three years, has been almost entirely obliterated. No damage has been done to the wheat crop by rust,, and the oats crop will average more than GO bushels to the acre. In Saskatchewan there are large areas where the crops are excellent, in places where, the prospects some few weeks ago were not encouraging, material change for the better is apparent. In these places unusually dry weather during a portion of the growing season kept the - crops hack, but what was most remarkable was the effect that the spring moisture had. While light in some places, this moisture kept sufficient strength in the growing crops to ensure a fair yield of a good quality of grain. This condition arises in the mid-central districts of the province. The southern portions of the province have been exceptionally favored, reports showing that the yield of all grains will be wonderfully good. The crops of all Saskatchewan are a week or ten days later than those of Manitoba. Conditions in Alberta are said to be good, especially in southern Alberta, where copious and plentiful showers came in time to give assurance of good paying yields. This applies to nearly all sections of that district. Northern Alberta, or at least that portion of it lying within thirty miles of Edmonton, has suffered from lack of moisture, a very unusual thing for that district, where there is generally an abundance. As a result, the heavy yields of wheat, oats and barley for which the district is noted will show considerable falling off over past years. The grain, though, is of excellent quality and the yield will be fair. Pasturage is poor, and the hay crop will fall short of that of any previous year for quite an extended period. On the whole, the prairie provinces of Western Canada will have a Crop that will warrant the'statement that it will prove satisfactory and remunerative. A number of farmers put in corn this year, and from present appearances there is a likelihood of an abundant yield for fodder and ensilage. while a good deal of it will fully mature. A number of silos were erected this season. While grain growing is losing none of its interest, it Is highly pleasing to note the number of farmers who are adding dairying to the grain growing industry.—Adven tisement. Subsequency. “I'll contribute a million dollars to your campaign fund!” said the enthusiastic friend. “No,” rejoined Senator Sorghum in tones of gentle regret. “You mean well, but you are one of those chaps who inadvertently make an election an insignificant matter compared to the subsequent investigation.” Cuticura for Sore Hands. Soak hands on retiring in the hot suds of Cuticura Soap, dry and rub in Cuticura Ointment. Remove surplus Ointment with tissue paper. This is only one of the things Cuticura will do if Soap, Ointment and Talcum are used for all toilet purposes.—Advertisement. * It Wouldn’t Do at All. Miss Neverwed —Are you going to enter yo«r child in the baby show? Mrs. Youngmother—No, I’m mu'. We'd be certain to win the blue ribbon, and blue is not his color. Giving Him His Chance. He—l would die for you. She —well, what are j T ou waiting for? —Boston Transcript.

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