Newspaper Page Text
I
FOURTH PAGE
•■THE SUNNY SOUTH
S’Ae CHilderbridg'e Mystery
BY GUY BOOTH BY, author of “Dr. Nikola“The Beautiful White Devil/' Etc.
fCopyxasthi. 1902.')
Synopsis of Installments 1 to IV.—Wil- by his father's neatn, he had become a
limn Standerton, a successful colonist,
m<! his two grown-up children, have de
cided to leave Australia and settle down
in the old country. Just before their
■dart the son, Jim, is accosted by a
''swag-man” who tells hint to inform
bis father that Richard Murbridge will
meet him in the morning. When Jim
delivers the message, his father seems
greatly agitated, and although no harm
comes of the meeting with Murbridge.
whom Standerton acknowledges having
known in previous years, both Jim and
his sister are rendered very uneasy. Ciiil-
derhridgfe Manor becomes the English
home of the Stajidertons—an historic,
mansion with an army of ghosts. Jim,
out driving, runs over a dog and be
comes acquainted with its mistress. Miss
ljec.ie, and her guardian. Abraham Burs-
tield. The two young people in time fall
in love with one another, but Air. l’urs-
tield refuses his consent. Jim encounters
Richard Murbridge in the park. He for
bids him to see his father, but the latter
on hearing of it, sends for the man
and they have a stormy interview. That
- a ening a fainting servant declares site
das sot n a ghost and the next morning
" illiam Standerton is found dead in
bod, strangled. Suspicion fastens at once
upon Murbridge, who, it is found, has
b it for London. "The Black Dwarf
again appears, frightening the- inmates
of the Hall.
-c-
CHAPTER FIVE
HE inquest on the body of
William Standerton was
held next morning at the
George and Dragon inn
in the village and was at
tended by half tht- neigh
borhood. The affair had
naturally caused an im
mense sensation in all
ranks of society, and, as
tile coroner observed in
his opening remarks, uni
versal sympathy was felt
for the bereaved fanlily.
Wilkins, who had not altogether
recovered from the fright he had
received on the night before, was
the first witness. He stated that
Ik had been the first to discover
the niurdcr, and then informed the cor
oner of the steps he had immediately
taken. Questioned as to the visit paid
to the Squire by Murbritlge, he said that
the latter was in a great rage when
turned away from the house, and on be
ing asked to do so, repeated the words,
the. latter had made use of. In conclu
sion, he said that he was quite certain
that no door or window in the house
had be -n left unfastened on the night
in question, and that 'in- was equally sure
that none were found either open or
showing signs of having been tampered
with in the morning. Jim followed next,
and corroborated what the butler had
. d. A sensation was caused when he
tiormed the coroner that Murbridge
ad threatened his father in his hearing
ii, Australia. He described his meeting
with the man in the park before dinner,
an-.l added that he had forbidden him to
: pproaeh the house. Examined by the
coroner, he was unable to say anything
. oncoming tiie nature of the quarrel be
tween tlte two men. The doctor was
next called, and stated that he was sum
moned to the Manor House. He described
•the body and gave it as his opinion that
death was, due to strangulation. Then
followed the police officer. The' landlord
was the nc-xt witness, and he gave evi
dence to the effect that the man Mur
bridge had stayed at the inn, had been
absent on the evening in question from
8 o’clock until half past 1-, and that he
had departed for London by the first
train on the following morning. The
driver of the mail cart, who had seen
him standing beside the stile, was next
called. Ho was quite sure that he had
made no mistake as to the man's identity,
for the reason that he had had a con
versation with him tit the George and
Dragon inn earlier in the evening. This
completing the evidence, the jury, with
out leaving the room, brought in a ver
dict of "willful murder against some per
son or persons unknown,” and for the
time being the case was at an end.
"You must not be disappointed, sir,”
s tid Robins afterwards, "it is all you can
possibly expect. They could do no more
on such evidence. But we’ve got our
warrant for the arrest of Murbridge, and
as soon as we can lay our hands upon
him, we may he able to advance another
and most important step. ] am going np
to London this afternoon, and 1 give
you my assurance, 1 shall not waste a
moment in getting upon his trae.k.”
"And you will let he know without
fail how you succeed?”
“I shall be sure to do so,” Robins re
plied.
' In tlie meantime there can he no harm
in my putting an advertisement in the
papers offering a reward of five hundred
pounds to any one who will give such
information as may lead to the discovery
of the murderer.”
“It Is a large sum to offer, sir, an- will
Vie sure to bring you a lot of useless cor
respondence. Still, it may lie of some
use, and I would suggest that you send
it to the daily papers without delay.”
"It shall be done at once.”
Jim thereupon bade the detective good-
by. and returned to the house to in
form his sister of what had taken place
at the inquest. She quite agreed with
him on the matter of the reward, and
an advertisement was accordingly dis
patched to the Txnnlon newspapers, to-
geth< ? V witli a cheek to cover the cost of
a number of insertions.
Next day the mortal remains of \\ illiam
Standerton were conveyed to their last
resting place in the graveyard of the lit
tle village church. After the funeral Jim
drove hack to the Manor House, accom
panied by liis father's solicitor, who
had traveled down from London for the
ceremony. He was already aware that.
rich man, but he had no idea how wealthy
he would really be, until the will was
read. When this had been done and he
discovered that he was worth upward
of half i million sterling, he shook his
head sadly:
"I'd give it all up willingly, every penny
of it," he answered, “to have the poor
old Governor alive again. I wonder what
the police are doing. It seems an extraor
dinary thing to me that so far they have
not been able to obtain any clew as to
the whereabouts of Murbridge. Look at
this heap of letters,” he continued, point
ing to a heap of correspondence lying
"You have heard nothing yet from the
police?"
“Nothing at all,” Jim answered, shak
ing his head mournfully. “They have
given me their most positive assurance
that they are leaving no stone unturned
to find the man, and yet, so l'qr, they ap
pear to have been entirely unsuccessful.
If they do not soon run him down I shall
take up the case myself, and see what l
can do with it. And now here we are at
the gate. You do not know how hard it
is for me to let you go even for so short
a time. With the closing of that door the
light seems to go out of my life.”
"1 hope and pray that you will always
lieve in such things, the evidence given bv
the doctor at the inquest would be suf
ficient to refute ihc idea.”
"In that case let us drop the pubject,”
Bursfield answered. "My only desire
was to warn you. It is rumored in the
village that on the night of your fath
er s death one of your domestics was
confronted by the specter known as the
Black Dwarf, and fainted in consequence.
My old manservant also told me this
moftiing that your butler had seen it
on another occasion. I believe the late
Lord Childerbrldge also saw it, as did
the individual who preceded him. One
died a violent death, the other abandoned
the property at once. Be warned in
time, Mr. Standerton. For my own port,
as I have said before, though it was the
home of my ancestors, T would not pass
a night at Childerbridge for the wealth
of all the Indies.”
“In that case you must be more easily
frightened than I am,” J»n returned.
“On the two occasions you mc/tf#n the
only evidence we have to rely on Is the
word of a hysterical maid servant and
the assurance of a butler, who, for all
we know to the contrary, may have
treated himself more liberally than usual
on that particular evening to my poor
father’s whisky.’’
"Scoff as you will,” Bursfield returned,
"but so far as you are concerned I h ive
done my duty. I have given you your
warning, and if you do not care to profit
by it that ha? nothing to do with me.
And now to return to the matter upon
which I hastened after you this evening.
I refer to your proposed marriage witli
my ward.” 1
Jim said nothing, but waited for him
to continue. He had a vague feeling
that what Ihe was (about to hear
would mean unhappiness for himself.
“I informed you the other day,” Mr.
Bursefield continued, "that it was impos
sible for me to sanction such a proposal.
I regret that I am still compelled to
adhere to this decision. Tn point of
fact, I feel that it is necessary for me
to go even further and to say that I
must for the future ask you to refrain
from addressing yourself to Miss Decie
at all.”
"Do you mean that you refuse me per
mission to see/her or to speak with her?”
Jim asked in amazement.
“If, by seeing her, you mean holding
persona! intercourse with her, I must
confess that you have judged the situa
tion cori*ectly. I am desirous of pre
venting Miss Deeie from falling into the
error of believing that she will ever be
your wife.”
"But, my dear sir, this is a most ab
surd proceeding. Why should you ob
ject to me in this fashion? You know
nothing against me, and you are aware
that I love your ward. You admitted on
the last occasion that I discussed this
matter with you, that Miss Decie might
expect little or nothing from you at
your death. Why, therefore, in the name
of common sense, are you so anxious to
prevent her marrying the man she loves,
and who is in a position to give her tinguish it, turned antt made qj s way
all the comfort and happiness wealth
and love can bestow?”
“You have heard my decision,” the
other replied, quietly. "I repeat that on
no consideration will I consent to a mar
riage between my ward and yourself.
And. as I said just now, T will go even
further and forbid you most positively
for the future either to see or to com
municate with her.”
“And you will not give me your rea
sons for taking this extraordinary step?"
“I will not. That is all I have to say
to you, and I have the honor to wish you
a good evening."
"But I have not finished yet,” said Jim.
whose anger by this time had got the bet
ter of him. "Once and for all let mo tell
you this, Mr Bursfield, I have already in
formed you that I am desirous at any cost
t<> make Miss Decie my wife. I may add
mw, that your tyrannical behavior will
only make me the more u.xious to do so.
If the young lady deems it incumbent upon
her to await your consent before marrying
me, f will listen to her and not force the
matter; but give her up I certainly will
not so long as I live.”
“Beware, sir, I warn you, beware!” the
other almost shrieked.
"If that is ali you have to say to me I
will bid you good evening, - ’ said Jim.
But Bursfield did not answer; be merely
turned on his heel and strode back in the
direction of the Dower House. Jim stood
for a moment looking after his retreating
figure, and when he could no longer dis-
homeward.
On reaching the Manor lb, he in
formed his sister of what had taken place
between himself and Helen’s guardlfcn.
"He must be mad to treat you .. 0 ,” said
Alice, when her brother had finished.
"He knows - that Helen loves you; surely
he cannot be so selfish as to reefer his
own comfort to her happiness.''
"I am afraid that is exact.>■ xvhat he
does do,” said Jim. “However, i suppose
I must make allowances for him old age
is apt to be selfish. Besides, we hu to re
member, as Helen says, thru si,., owes
much to him. I shall see what he say3
at the end of six months, am] then, if
he is not agreeable, take the niat: er into
my own hands.”
But though he spoke so calmly he was
by no means at ease in his <w n mind.
He was made much happier, n .. pr by
a note which was brought to him as ha
was in the act of retiring to r
It was in Helen’s handwriti:g . n<J he
tore it open eagerly.
“My own dear love," it ran ,\( r Burs-
fielrl has just informed meet hi- nrview
' dlrss for
he should
inder-
‘t That
fin of his
rim with-
VVhat-
with you this evening. It is
n.e to say how sorrv I am th
have spoken ■ s he did. I
stand his beh ivior in this n
something m ire than any -t
own personal comfort make
hold his consent, I feel cert
< ver happens, however, you
will lie true to you —and if
your wife, I will be wife to n
Your loving.
tTo Be. Continue .
v that I
ot be
■ ‘'th.y- man.
N. ’
Professors Loeb Sr Mathews Trying to Solve Life Problem
By HERBERT WALLACE
‘I repeat that on no consideration will 1 consent to a marriage bet we an my ward and
vourself
be able to say that.” she answered sol-
Cant
Help
heavring about
Pearline. Pearline alone has
reformed — made easy — the
whole business of washing.
Millions of thrifty women are
using it in place of soa.p. Find
out, in your own way, whether
Pearline is the best and most
economical washing medi
um. Ask about it. Test it. 665
Watsh With
upon the writing table. "Each one hails
from somebody who has eTther se°n Mur
bridge or professes to know where he is
to be found. One knows just such a man
working in a baker's shop in Shoreditch,
another lias lately returned with him on
board a liner from America, and on re
ceipt- of the reward will give me his pres
ent address. A third says that he is a
waiter in a popular restaurant in Oxford
street; a fourth avers that lie is hiding
near the docks, and intends lea\ing Eng
land tTus week. So the tale goes on, and
will increase, 1 suppose, every day.”
"The effect of offering so large a re
ward,” replied the lawyer. "My only
hope is that it will not have the effect
of driving the man we want out of Eng
land, in which case the difficulty of lay
ing hands upon him will be more than
doubled.”
"lie need not think that flight will saver
him. Let him go where he pleases; I will”
run him to earth.” >
Helen had spent the day at the Manor
House, trying to comfort Alice in her
distress. At 9 o'clock she decided to re
turn to the Dower House and Tim deter
mined to accompany her. They accord
ingly set off together. So occupied were
they by their own thoughts, that for
some time neither of them spoke. Jim
was the first to break the silence.
"Helen.” he said, “I cannot thank you
sufficiently for your goodness to poor
Alice during this awful time. But for
you I do not know how she would have
come through it.*'
"Poor girl.” Helen answered, "my
heart aches for her.”
"She was so fond of our father.” James
answered.
"Not more than you were, dear," Helen
replied. "But you have borne your trou
ble so bravely—never once thinking of
yourself.”
The night was dark, and there was no
one about, so why should he not have
slipped his arm round her waist.
“Helen.” he said, “tho time has come
for me to ask what our future is to be.
Will you wait for Mr. Bursfield's death
before you become my wife, or will you
court his displeasure and trust yourself
to me? You know how 1 love you!”
“I know it.” she answered. “But I do
not know what answer to give you. Do
you not see how I am situated? T owe
everything to my guardian. But for his
care of me I suppose I now should he a
governess, a music-mistress, or something
of that sort. He has fed me, clothed me,
and loved me, after his own fashion, all
these years. Would it not, therefore,
seem like an act of the basest ingratitude
to leave him desolate, merely to promote
my own happiness?”
“And does my happiness count for
nothing?” asked Jim. “Let us talk the
matter over dispassionately, and see what
can be done. Don't think me heartless
in what I say, but you must realize your
self that Mr. Bursfield is a very old man.
It is just possible, therefore, that the
event we referred to a few moments ago
may take place in the near future. Then,
owing to our terrible loss, it will be im
possible for me, I suppose, to be married
within the next six months. Now, thfe
question to be decided is shall we go 'on
as we are doing now until, say. the end
o^f six months, and then snake another
appeal to your guardian. It is just pos
sible he may be more inclined to listen
to reason then.”
“I will do whatever you wish,” she an
swered simply. "I fear, however, that,
while Mr. Bursfield lives, he will take no
other view of the case.”
"We must hope that he will,” Jim re
plied. “In the meantime, as long as I
know that you are true to mg and love
me as 1 love you, I shall be quite happy.”
“You do believe that I love you, don’t
you, Jim?’’ she. asked, looking up at her
lover in the starlight.
"Of course I do,” he answered. "God
knows what a lucky man I deem myself
for having been* permitted to win your
love. I am supremely thankful for one
thing, and that is the fact that my poor
father learnt to know and love you be
fore his death.”
“As I had learnt to love him,” she re
plied. “But there, who could help doing
so?”
“One man at least.” Jim replied. "Un
happily. we have the worst of reasons for
knowing that there was one person in
the world wjio bore ium a mortal ha
tred.”
emnly.
Then they bade each other good-night,
and she disappeared into the house, leav
ing Jim free to resume his walk. He had
not gone many steps, however, before he
heard his name called, anil, turning
round, beheld no less a person than Mr.
Bursfield hurrying toward him. He wait
ed for the old gentleman to come up. It
was the first time that Jim had known)
him to venture beyond the limits of his
grounds. The circumstance was as puz
zling as it was unusual.
“Will you permit me a short conversa
tion with you, Mr. Standerton?” Burs
field began. “1 recognized your voice as
you bade Miss Decie good-bye, and hur
ried after you in the hope of catching
you up.”
For a moment he hoped that the old
ma.n had come niter him in order to make
amends, and to withdraw his division hi
a few nighfs before. T1 is hope, however,
was extinguished as soon as it was born.
“Mr. Standerton," sale, Abraham Burs
field. "you may remember what I told
you a few evenings since with regard to
the proposal you did me the honor of
making on behalf of my ward. Miss De
eie.”
"I renvmbcr it perfect.y,” Jim replied.
“It is scarcely likely that I should for
get.” .
"Since then I have given the matter
careful consideration, and I may say that
I have found no reason for deviating from
my previous decision."
“I am sorry indeed to hear that. The
more so as your ward and myself are
quite convinced that our affections are
such as will not change or grow weaker
with time. Indeed, Mr. Bursfield, I have
had another idea in my mind which I fan
cied might possibly commend itself to
.you. and induce you to reconsider your de
cision. You have already told me that Miss
Decie’? presence is necessary to your
happiness. As a proof of what a good
girl she is I might inform you that, only
a few moments since, she told me that
she could not consent to leave you, for the
reason (hat she owed all she possessed to
you.”
“I am glad that Helen has one little
spark of gratitude,” he answered. “It is
a face, though you may not believe it,
ehat she doe= owe everything to me. And
now for this idea of yours.”
“What I was going to propose is,” said
Jim, “that in six months time or so, you
should permit me to marry your ward,
and from that elav forward should take
up your residence with us.”
The old man looked at him in aston
ishment. Then he burst into a torrent of
speech.
"Such a thing is not to be thought of,”
he.cried. "I could not consider It for a
moment. It would he little short of mad
ness. I am a recluse. T care less than
nothing for such things as society: my
books are my only companions. T want,
and will have, no others. Besides, I could
not live in that house of yours, were you
to offer me all the gold in the world.”
Here he grasped Jim’s arm so tightly
that the young man a most winced.
"I have of course heard of your father's
death.” he continued. “It is said that he
was murrlered. But, surely, knowing
what you do. you are not going to be
foolish enough to believe that””
. "And why should I not do so?” Jim
asked in great surprise. "I ran believe
i othir.g els' 1 , for ever" circumstance of
th' case points to murder. Good heavens,
Mr. Bursfield, if my father was not mur
dered, how did he meet his death?”
The other was silen* for a moment be
fore he replied. Then he drew a step
nearer, and looking up at Jim, asked in a
low voiem
“Have you forgotten what T said to you
concerning the mystery of the house?
Did I not tell you that one of the former
owners was found dead in bed, having met
his fate in identically the same way as
your father did ? Does not this appear
significant to you? If not. your under
standing must be dull.”
The new explanation of the mystery
was so extraordinary that Jim did not
know what to say or thi'/k about It. That
his father's death had resulted from any
supernatural agency, had never crossed
his mind.
"I fear I am inclined to agree witli you,”
FEW days ago It was an-
'nounced that two men, one
a German born, the otijer a
native of America, had to
gether solved the secret of
nerve and muscle stimulus,
and immediately the names
, of Jacques and Albert
-Mathews were placed in
heavy display type in every
large newspaper in tha
country, and under various
■headings was given the
story of their investigations
and prophecies as to what these discov
eries would mean to the world. Now it
is a good thing for the public to applaud,
even though not one in a thousand under
stands what are Ions electrons, proto-
plasmal energy, parthenogenesis or other
similar terms in which the experiments of
these scientists are described. We have
been told that the discoveries prove our
physical energy to be due to the elec
tricity and not to heat, that thus is ex
plained the beating of the heart, the ef
fects of drugs, and that we have taken
a step toward the solution of the problem
of life and death. We realize somewhat
vaguely, but none the less surely, that
all this means a wonderful" achievement
has been made. And so, though we may
not come within intellectual hailing dis
tance of the discovery, we are prepared
to iaud the men who ha.ve placed America
on an equal plane with Europe In the
domain of pure science. For this is what
Professors Loeb and Mathews have done.
The first meeting with Professor Loeb
is a surprise. One expects to see an elder
ly. pale, hea vy browed devotee of the mid
night oil. Instead one sees a man who
looks barely" 1 thirty, springy of step and
quick to he degree of nervousness in
his action Ten, when one recalls the
chronology i^ -prd which places him at
nearly forty. Die first thought Is that he
has found in his investigations some elixir
of life which he is using himself and had
not let the world know about it. We have
a way ol jumping to the conclusion that,
if he h.'^s prolonged the life of a single
cell, he may have found the way to pro
long' the life of some' countless number
of cells which make up human life. No
one is quicker, however, to discounte
nance such a generalization than Profes
sor Loeb.
“Maybe, in years to come.” he said
to me." we shall know what life is and
be »ible to control it, but not now; not
vet.”
For an investigator, who has accom
plished a long stride toward the great Un
knowable, Professor Loeb is exceedingly
modest.
“The most that any one ran do,” he
says, “is to add a single drop to the
sea of human knowledge. 1 am not at
ill sure that I have done
Scientist that. It remains for the
Shows future to show. The long-
Decp Hu- er I live, the more 1 real-
mility as to lze that ephemeral fame
Triumph counts for nothing. If the
few men who really un
derstand what I am trying to do recog
nize my work as good, then I shall be
satisfied.”
Professor Loeb has been connected with
Chicago university for several years, but
for many years before his coming to ttiis
country he had been working on the physi
ological problems of life. Born in a small
German village and educated in Berlin
university are the' only two facts of his
early life which he has made public. “My
work mu§t speak for me after that,” ho
replies to questions for details. There is.
indeed, enough in his work to speak vol
umes. Not content with anything less
than original investigation he began by
studying tht lowest form of animal life
and shortly discovered that these beings
were attracted or repelled by light, heat,
gravity and various chemical substances.
He was not ready for the generaliza
tion that, since thqse forms of energy were
electrical in natir/e, all life force wa->
stimulated el>,'trlcally, Be he went on.
arid at the ‘Naples laboratory and at
Woods Hole in Massachusetts he found
that he could stimulate chemically the life
of sea urchin eggs. Then came his inves
tigations into the secret of muscle stim
ulus. lie was progressing toward the
problem of life and death. —
At just the right time along came a
young man who had been studying physi
ological problems uli his life. His mind
was not confused with the difficulties
which Professor Loeb saw because he had
not gone through with the same experi
ments. As Professor Loeb remarked; “I
had reached a certain point in my investi
gations and was looking one way when I
should have looked another. Professor
Mathews came along, saw what 1 was
doing and looked in the direction [ had
missed.”
The result was the discovery of nerve
stimulus and the cooperation of the two
theories into a practical generalization.
Professor Mathews was born in Chicago
thirty years ago, just after the great
fire which swept the city up to within
p stu-
elec-
th.
•al
vious record. He was a s. !,
dent and had come down to
tricity, blit got into biology !
fessor Sedgwick took a i t ■.%
young man and they did a gT eu
original research work turer;
very
practical result of their ns i qj- wa3
the tracing down of the cans - th . - N - ew
England diphtheria so prevalent - the
time to the milk which cam. down from
dk Merrlmac county. The following U.
H gland
mer Mathews went about X
examining water supplies well
pumps. Many of these 'lay
full of germs and he had th ir
In isa? he was grad
nologieal institute, and fhes
two blocks of the Mathews' home. Mis | fellowship for two
town
'ound
■ I up
Tech-
on ed
father, now' the well-known musical critic
and editor of a magazine of music pub
lished in Chicago, as at that time a mem
ber of the fire patrol which saved what
little was left of the city. Young Mathews
received his first training under Professor
Belt wood in the Evanston high school,
who was then considered the greatest edu
cator in the west. When Mathews went
east for college he was asked what edu
cation he had.
“High school,” he replied.
“Where?”
“In Illinois.”
“Humph, t lie re are only two high
schools in Illinois,” replied the examiner.
“Prineeston and Evanston.”
“Yes, and I came from one of them.”
replied Mathews triumphantly.
As a matter of fact. Professor Beltwood
established the high school at Princeton
and then moved to Evanston.
Albert Mathews was the best student
Beltwood ever turned out. At the Massa
chusetts Institute of Technology, the boy
was denied admission be-
cause he was too young.
Prcven The following year he ap-
irw plied for admission again.
Early He was still a year under
Youth age, but a special dispen
sation of the authorities
gave him entrance. Throughout his course |
years at C ! ;mbi- (two
■"■T Of
tear
»er-
:rimv
♦
years in Marburg universlD. Grrma>4c a
summer in the International nunnfand
biological station at Naples, ,n ' &
dumbia, two years as
physiology at Tufts college ■
in Harvard. He went to Chirr,
sity last September. Tt wa i
that he began his experimen:
worked with Ivoussult and oth
physiologists and took up his
Rons first in the analysis of all
Naples he tried experiment.
those of Professor Loeb, bm
successful results at the time
he organized the department of
ieal chemistry and at Harvard
on more original experimei :
been going to Woods Hole, o- r
except those when he was a. ■
he was a student in the instil :
nology. During late years he
one of the principal lecturers a
mer school there an<l if was ;
where the greater part of Ik
nerve stimulus was done. Her
fessor Loeb ear-led on his o
ajid the two men worked tovniw
some time. At present both re
associated, and while Profess"- 1
work is more exhaustive and emr
that of his younger colleague,
Mathews, is none the less of con
importance. Together they are v
on the further problems which f-..
there he distinguished himself beyond pre- * coveries have opened
up.
Vanity, Greed and Hygiene Combine to Banish the Beard
Written for C6e .V)lnny South
CRUSADE against the
beard has been started,
and if the movement keeps
the pace it has already
acquired it will not be
long before we will be as
whiskerless a race as in
the days of Napoleon. For
the ediht has gone forth,
and the man of fashion,
the barber and the doctor
are concurring to give it
force. The first is actuat
ed by mere vanity, the sec
ond by gain, the third by science, or
at least hygiene, and in this latter cause
is found the real significance of the
moment, since it concerns the general
health. Heretofore the unbearding.*>f a
nation has -always reflected its mooii
People have become beardless after suf
fering groat moral crises—witness the
time of Cromwell in England, the period
of the revolution in France. Perhaps
some people may think we have passed
through a great political crisis in this
country, but that, after all, is not the
real motive for the present crusade. It
is true that fashion has been gradually
reducing its devotees to the absolutely
shorn condition. The day of the flow
ing moustache, for instance, was passed
years ago. In spite of the outcry of the
ladies, the youth of the period long ago
relegated the military twist to the me
chanic, the laborer and the man who
wears a made-up tie. The short-crop
ped moustache has been long in vogue.
But more recently tho young blood,
who is to his fellows what the Gibson
girl is to womankind, has shaved his
face clean to accord to his short-niched
coat tail and his peg-top trousers, all
of which might well take place at any
time without rhyme or reason. But her#’
comes the doctors, to whom a flowing
beard is considered essential from the
standpoint of business, ileclai ing tli.it Ilia
beard is, after all. but a vehicle for the
growth of disease germs which may men
ace not only the health of the wearer,
but which may transmit the germs to oth
ers; that the dairyman who wears a
beard does so to the peril of his custom
ers who drink the milk he contaminates;
that doctors who wear beards report
greater mortality among their patients
than those who do not; that the man with
a beard who enters a railway coach can
not come away without a very palpable
addition ot the bacteria which always
infest such places, since it has been
proved that the matting of the coaches,
composed of many individual strands or
hairs like those of a beard, are literally
covered with bacteria.
Now, it is a fact that doctors have
long separated themselves into two
classes, those who do and those who do
nit wter l cards, and in
How ike larger clinics it is
Whiskers noticeable that toe oper-
Scatter ators are as careful of
Disease their hirsute appendages
Germs as Lord Lister was of his
fingernails, but the idea
teally came to the notice of the public
when tne New York milk commission
suggested that all dairymen with whis
kers dispense with this part of their
facial make-up, on the ground that a
milkman with whiskers is liable to Im
pregnate the milk with germs. Following
the suggestion the managers of the va
rious milk depots hi the neighborhood
of Binghamton have decided that only
Mr. Bursfield,” he said, somewhat cold- I smooth faced men will be allowed hen*-
(f. ‘‘Even if one went so far as to be- I after to have anything to do with the
milking or shipping of milk in that part
of the state. Orders issued to that ef
fect state with ord.nary cleanliness the
dust from the stable is liable to infect
the Beard and from thence the milk.
Some of the farmers who have long
prided themselves on the beauty anil
length of their beards are indignant at
the implied possibility of uncleanliness
and at the enforced change in their per
sona’. appearance. One man declares that
he would rather lose his business than
his beard. Others ( >. press like senti
ments, but many, on the ether hand, are
heartily in accord with the movement.
The significance of the movement lies
in its relation to the wearing of beards
ir. general. If there is menace to the
dairy, there is menace to other depart
ments of industry.
So important has the question become
that various health authorities have for
seme time been makirg leforms wher
ever possible.
“I suppose the idea came,” said Dr
Park, of the New York board of health,
“from our suggestion to the milkmen of
tile state. There is real menace to the
rrilk if the dairyman is bearded. Tn the
first place, tho milker may be diseased
fc’mself. He may have tuberculosis anil
•the dried sputum may accumulate on
his beard and drop from it into the milk,
which would then become dangerous to
ary consumer already predisposed to the
disease. The milker is forced to incline
his head over the milk pail in order to
get near enough to do liis work and you
have no doubt noticed that mer. witli
long beards have a habit of stroking
them downward. That has the effect of
brushing off any germs they may con
tain. Again, the milker may be perfectly
healthy him-self and yet accumulate bac
teria from the dust of the stable. The
beard, particularly when lamp, mas be
come an ideal germ carrier, and on an
unclean man would have great facility
for the transmission of disease. In the
case of tho physician it might transmit
disease if brought in contact with it.
For instance, a dectrr with a long beard
in examining a diphtheria case might
very well accumulate the germs of the
f.iser-se while he was bending down to
examine a patient. A child with the dis
ease might cough and the doctor’s heard
might collect the geims, which, when
dry, could very easily be transmitted in
this way to another patient. Under
stand, I do not say it has been done, but
it could be done.' The danger Is less In
the case of the general practitioner than
ir. the cas? of the surgeon, whose whis
kers might not only interfere with his
work, but might collect the deleterious
elements of some pus filled cavity, which,
diyir.g, might be transmitted to some
other hospital patient. For that reason,
perhaps, many of our surgeons are
smooth shaven, or at least wear only
the moustache.”
One of Dr. Park's colleagues, to whom
the writer was referred by tho director
of the board, spoke of the danger to
health resulting more especially from
bearded doctors.
“Undoubtedly the beard is a germ-car-
.111.
But this was as
nothing
rier, ’ he said, very positively. “I could
give you the names of three or four well-
known physicians whose
Physicians large mortality records
Who A**e are believed to he due to
Dangerous ‘.lie fact thnt they wear
From long. flowing beards.
Beards which transmit disease.
It would be discourteous
professionally to give you their names,
and for the same reason you must not j denosit. a „„
mention mine. There is one specific in
stance which came under my notice. We
were operating on an accident case, and
the chief surgeon was a man with a long
beard. In sewing up the wound this sur
geon accidentally allowed the ligature to
touch his beard. It brushed through the
ends of the hairs ever so slightly. We
took careful note of the part of the liga
ture that had touched the hairs of the
beard, remembering just where that part
rested in the wound. And we were not .
surprised when a small stitch-abscess | worn beards, but that might b
pared to the amount of bacteri:
on the floor matting of these
the report which he made on t ;i-
he says:
“The use of cocoa mat- in th
the elevated roads of Manh.itta
lishes a condition that is pn i
not perilous, to the health of nas
These mats absorb ail the qu
md part i
again after it has dried on tl
I have estimated that on a tile r
a half inches long from the om
face of a mat there were betwi
and four million bacteria. On
fiber of tiie same length there V.
ly two million."
Whether it could be said that
aiency of the beard might be ill
of a nation's healthfulness I do t
Most of the plague infected ati
■ m nip#) whoilesire a Monthly Regulator that
I III lip \ cannot fail will pleise aclilreaa with
LHUILvitamp, Dr. Stevkns, Buffalo. K.Y
formed around the portion of the ligature
that had been touched by the beard.
Clearly the germs from the surgeons
whiskers had infected the previously ster
ilized ligatures.
it is impossible that a practitioner,
and particularly a hospital operator,
bending down over the breasts and the
mouths of the diseased all day long, as
some of us do, should not run the risk
of transmitting contagion through the
medium of a beard, in fact, you have
only to look around you to note the pos
sibilities of disease which may result
from the wearing of beards. Some time
ago a Columbia college investigator went
into the elevated trains and collected
pieces of the matting and samples of the
air from the cars. He did the same in
the ferry houses, the railway stations and
the churches. He took his sample to the
laboratory of the College of Physicians
and^ Surgeons, and when cultures were
md
rs. In
; ;b iect
11= of
estab-
•i.i if
n?r rs.
I tilth
it
rs.
md
-ur-
..ree
aer
ar
ia ev-
bidex
ki 'w
11 e
ici-
• ovs
a uce
what
niat-
w hen
ten
ii. m-
dence. Certainly the beard, for
at least, is not desirable. Th.-
of antiseptics is against it, for
use is It to be immaculate in i
ter of apparel and of fingernai
from the face of the operator li
times the menace in the form
collecting whiskers.
The writer made a tour of - "'St
barber shops of New York to i 1 >it.
if possible, the proportion smooth- re n
men bore to the r> - °f
Evidence mankind. The cm =us
that Beards of opinion was ta r 'he.
Are Becom* practice of . c'ing
Unpop- beards is dying ■■ ml
<*^*r that even the mo . he
is growing less prevalent.
The barbers proclaimed themselves hear
tily in favor of the beardless fact uot
because of any desire for the general
good health, but because of the increase
it would bring to their trade. When it
made he produced an appalling number w «s intimated that perhaps it would also
or bacteria, showing the unhygienic con- sive them greater chance to spread con
dition of the various public places he had ‘ '
visited. Now, the bacteria flying in the
11427
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air of the elevated trains, for instance,
could not fail to find lodgment in the
beards of ihe passengers. Tt might be
said that they would also find lodgment
on the clothes of the passengers as well
but those clothes are comparatively .much
DIN o? r thT°we d fr ° m the mo ” t hs aml n^-
trils of the wearers and from the mouths
and nostrils of the other passengers
crowded hard in the rush hours against
tne wearer of the beard.’’
Observations made at Montsoure's ob
servatory showed that the air of Paris
averages 5.400 bacteria per cubic meter
and the air of New York was shown by'
Dr. Firth, of Columbia college, to be
as bad. Dr. Firth constructed an appa
ratus for obtaining samples of air in the
L trams in the stations and other public
places where large crowds gather. His
apparatus looked like an ordinary sach'el,
but it had a vacuum pump concealed
within it. and a hole cut in the side
so that samples of air could be drawn
in through the stopcock that protruded
It was an easy matter for Dr. Firth to
turn on the stopcock unobserved and
secure a quantity of the air of the par
ticular room or car in which he happened
to be. The air was, of course, taken to
the college laboratory and tested. In a
cubic meter of air taken from the Queens
county court house he found 11.777 bac
teria. The same amount of air taken
from a Brooklyn church contained 2..100
bacteria. In a New York school room
j fifteen minutes after dusting he got
1 44.428 bacteria from a cubic meter. In
one of the ferry houses the bacteria per
cubic meter were 27,666. In another ferry-
house 31,111. In an elevated ear he got '
tagion by means of the razor, they 'ne
and all declaimed against the possibility
of such a thing taking place. The razor,
they said, cannot spread contagion, since
it is always sterilized before use in all
first-class shops. The only means of
germ transmission that could apply in a.
barber shop is the towel, which, "hen
wet, furnishes a first-class culture me
dium for the propagation of bacteria,
and they said that it is only in the cheap
Italian shops, where the same towel is
made to serve more than one person. AH
of which may be true enough. The writer,
in a walk down Broadway, noted that
among one thousand male foot passen
gers only 5 per cent wore beards, nd
that of the younger men a greater per
centage were clean shaven than mous
tached. Allowing for the fact that many
of these young men were smooth Keel
by virtue of Inability to raise hair on
their faces, it is significant when wq
consider that it is not so long since every
third man on Broadway wore a Van
dyke.
J. S. J. Monks, the celebrated American
painter of sheep, has pursued his favor
ite subject on two continents, in the New
England hills and the Swiss mountain?.
♦
The following story is indicative! of
Crispi's self-confidence. On one occasion
he was asked In the chamber by’ a
league if- he belonged to Mazzini's pa 'ty,
“No,” replied Crispi. “Then perhaps
belong to Garibaldi's?" “No.” “T
whose party do you belong to?" “C rfc.