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The Marked Man
THE STORY
From his French-Canadian
mother,Norman Erickson inherits
a distaste for life on the water,
which is beyond the understand
ing of his father, Gustaf, veteran
deep-water sgailor., At Mrs, Er
ickson's death Gustaf determines
to make Norman, who has been
working for a grocer, his partner
in his fishing boat, at once. In
rebellious mood, Norman seeks
comfort from Julie Richaud,
French-Canadian playmate of his
school days. Gustaf, going to the
aid of a drowning friend is crip
pled.
CHAPTER ll—Continued
—_—3
“You?” Gustat laughed unsteadily.
“You'd drown yourself! What do you
know about settin’ pets. Crank the
engine, I'm goin’. You can stay
gshore; . . >
Ed Baker lounged through the door.
He had heard the querulous voice of
Gustaf. Jim Nelson, who had been
dozing in a corner on a stack of old
nets, awakened saying, “No, no!
Mebbe tomorrow, Gus, not today!”
Gustaf did not turn his head.
“I'll take you out to the banks,”
E£d Baker volunteered, “if Norm don't
want to go.” s
“He ain’t fit to go,” Gustaf muttered,
“he ain't fit to be son o' me!”
Norman dropped the edge of the
pond net he was mending. He saw
Baker grinning in the door, saw his
father’'s harsh profile and Nelson’s
sleepy troubled face. Beyond these
three, through the open window, across
the wide wxters of the lake, the white
tower of Etind Man’s Eye, .ue light
house, suddenly beckoned to' him. He
stood up, his shoes creaking, and
moved to the door.
“Ain’t a fit son to me!” his father
repeated.
“Then I'd better not stay,” Norman
told him. “I'd better go where I am
fit.” He loeked again at the distant
lighthouse. ¢
Desire grew within him. He had felt
1t before, vaguely. Once, when he was
seventeen, an itinerant preacher who
stopped for three Sundays at the Ma
drid Bay mission house, had put the
fidea into his head. He had said all
men, some time or other in their lives,
experienced a definite call to service.
He did not explain what the word
meant. Norman could think then, as
now, of only one service that ever
had called him.
_ “I've been calculating on going
away,” he said. &
Gustaf’s eyes widened. :
“You? Going away? Where?”
“Lighthouse service,” Norman an
swered. “It’s a decent job. A job I'd
like..”
“A good seamanly job,” old Jim Nel
son supported him,
Gustaf scowled. His face turned
from yellow to purple, his eyes grew
smaller.
“You?" he cried. “You'd go to the
lights? Quit fishing?” He paused
“Go crank that boat!’ he added.
“I''l run you out to the banks,”
Baker offered again.
Norman swung about. He stepped
squarely in front of Baker, glaring
into the shorter man's face,
“Don't you touch that boat!” he
eried. “Hear me? Keep away from
my futher! Stop playing up to him,
“Lighthouse,” old Gustaf grunted
with the perverse emphasis of a sick
man. “Lighthouse, eh? They wouldn't
bave you!”
Baker laughed. Norman's fist drew
Joto a tight knot. Baker, seeing It,
and the cold whiteness of the other’s
face, dodged through the door, and
&s if he thought suddenly of some task
that needed him, hurried along the
wharf. Father and son and patlent
Jim Nelson remained.
. “No lighthouse would have the likes
o' you!” Gustaf cried.
“I'll go see!” Norman answered.
He was standing outside the shack
pefore he knew it. Nelson followed
him,
“Take care of the old man a few
days?” Norman asked.
“Sure, I'll stand your watch a bit,
He's my shipmate, aln't he?”
Each morning of the five days that
followed, Ed Baker came to the door
of Gustat Erickson’s house and In
quired for Norman. Jim Nelson an
swered faithfully each time. Norman
would be back next day. Jim did not
trust Baker,
Norman stepped In unexpectedly on
the sixth morning. He looked thin
per, there were new serious lines
around his eyes. He showed no sur
prise at seeing his father in bed.
“Hello,” he sald to Gustaf. “Hello,
Jim,” and passed through to his own
room. Try as be would, the old man's
fre could set off no dry spark this
morning in tue temper of his son, It
was a new Norman who returned to
Madrid Bay, close-mouthed, unexcited,
more mature, a lttle detached.
“Your paw was took sick,” Nelson
econfided when the two were alone.
“He'earried on pretty squaily, You're
goin’ to the lights?"
Norman shook his head.
“I'm staying here,' he sald. “Sure,
1 went down to Milwaukee. Took the
examination, There's a few vacancles,
they sald. But . . . I been thinkin'
it over, Jim, on the way bome, I
guess I shouldn't have gone. Here's
my place. I came back to stay.”
“Pass the tests?” Nelson asked
“Won't know for a few days. But
that won't make any difference. J
A Romance of the Great Lakes ¢
By KARLW.DETZER
Copyfllh?ll’v %:J.Bzmenfll Co,
don’t have to go if I do get an ap
pointment.”
“No, don't have to. But it's a good
Job, Norman, no matter what Gus
says . . ."” he paused lamely,
“He's my father.”
“Sure. But he's a hard skipper!”
“It don’t matter,” Norman answered.
Gustaf stayed in bed eight days this
time., On the ninth he arose obdurate
ly and demanded his clothes. He rode
out to the fishing grounds that morn
ing with his son and Jim Nelson, both
of them submissive,
It was the kind of day Norman
hated. Each changeable gust presaged
foul weather,
“All toes!” the old man scolded.
“This landlubber here is my boy,
Nelson, and look at him, all toes. Be
you fear’d of the water?” he asked
Norman savagely, “Lean over, get
a-holt on that buoy! Now heave!”
“I'm not afraid!” Norman contra
dicted.
“Pfaugh!” muttered Gustaf.
It was noon when Norman cranked
the engine and pointed the bow toward
Madrid Bay breakwater.
“She’s makin’ to blow,” Jim Nelson
predicted.
“Let her!” Gustaf snapped. “She’s
blowed afore this.”
- Net reels screeched fdly on shore.
In the selter of the breakwater of
rock and cedar poles that guards the
estuary of Tamarack river, Norman
unloaded the boat, cleaned the fish,
iced them and packed them for ship
ment south. It was midafternoon be
fore he had finished scruhbing tables
and floor. Then, while Nelson spun
the reel, he straightened the wet nets.
“Wash down the boat,” Gustaf or
dered; “when you get it clean, come
home.”
Norman did not obey directly. He
stopped at the post office first. There
was a letter addressed to him, The
heavy envelope was marked “Official
Business, U. 8. Department of Com
merce.” Norman pinched off a corner,
thrust in a finger and ripped the end.
He started to read the typewritten
sheet. When he saw Ed Baker watch
ing him, amoag the other men at the
post office, he thrust the paper indif
ferently into his pocket and stepped
out into the windy street.
At the first cedar clump he halted,
ostensibly to light his pipe. The match
blew out and be did not bother to
strike another. :
He had passed his exam!natiou for
the lighthouse service, And had been
appointed to a light. He could not
take the appointment, Hadn't he de
cided that? But at least he had tasted
independence. A brief touch of ftri
umph came into his heart. An ex
amining board of the United States
lighthoyse service had not found him
entirely without merit!
The appointment was for Blind
Man’s Eye.
He stuffed the envelope back into
his pocket and trudged toward home.
Jim Nelson sat moodily on the back
steps.
“Evenin’, Jim,” Norman said. He
was opening the door.
Nelson took the pipe from his teeth
and motioned with it.
“Listen,” he directed. *“She's goin’
to blow. We ain't much sense settin’
them nets today. B 2 tore all to pieces,
I told him, 'fore we put 'em out,
Gus says now he's goin’ to lift day
after tomorrow, come seven gales.,”
The weather stayed foul, Nelson
dozed in the parlor, fully dressed,
with his boots on. Gustaf had dropped
into an easy and contented slumber
with the first rise of the gale, as if
its sound were a lullaby anu he a
tired child, fretted into a deep fa
tigue. Under the rocf Norman lay
wakeful.
He remembered his mother and the
way she had stolen in to see that he
was covered on nights like this, Mem
ory of her led to other memorles.
Grotesque and abominable memories
of Gustaf's lldeous storles, night
mares that had tortured him as a lit
tle boy, the story of the captain's wife
and the captain’s dog . . . Just
such a wind as this had torn open the
cabin of the schooner Gottland., . . .
The people of the town gathered on
the dunes next morning to scan the
lnke for trouble, Stinging spray bit
their faces. Great breakers raced
ashore, showing white teeth at the
obstruction of the outer bar,
“Like to be h—l on pets,” a fisher
man shouted, 5
The wind gaced “faster, the lake
howled more threateningly, waves
smashed harder against the beaches,
At six o'clock Gustaf Erickson bob
bled into his son's bedroom,
*Out that bed,” he ordered. “Turn
out! Time to start!”
“To lift nets?' Norman sat up, sud
denly wide awnke,
“Sury, to lift nets. | had my break
fast. | ain't a bablit of sleepin’ all
day., Coffee’s hot. Get a move on.”
A half-dozen fishermen, Ed Baker
among them, were standing In Gustaf's
shack when Norman arrived at the
dock.
Gustaf stretched his legs as soon as
his son came In,
“l been waitin' you,” he growled to
Norman, “Fine lazy time to get
started.”
The wind roared a blasphemous nc
companiment to his words. The fish
shanty shuddered under fits blows,
Norman knocked out his pipe.
“We'll not lift today,” be sald pos
itively. “Nobody’s going out. I come
home to take care of you. 1 didn't
need to come, But I'll take care now
I'm here. We're not going out.”
For the first time in his twenty-one
years he defied his father.
Gustaf's obstinate face showed no
sign of emotion. There was a vacancy
in his eye. He did not hear or did
not comprehend.
“Get a move on,” he urged. “Time
to start.”
“No!” Norman answered.
Ed Baker laughed.
“Get out, men,” Norman command
ed. *“And you,” he addressed Baker,
“you get out first! Out, or by Mack
-1000
The men of the fleet gaped. Never
before had Madrid Bay heard that
brittle hardness in the voice of Gus
taf's son. Never had they seen such
rage in his eyes, which usually were
mild. Baker backed through the door,
the other men crowding on his toes.
“Don’t step in here again, Baker!”
Norman shouted.
He turned to his father,
“I'm ready to do a man's job,” sir,
any gay s 8t )" ;
“Crank the boat!” Gustat Inter
rupted. i
“We're not going,” Norman said.
He stepped close to the old man.
Only the two Ericksons and Jim Nel
son, who was the friend of both, re
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“Wantin’ to Go In the Lights—the
Lazy, Pokin’ Land Lubberin’ Lights!”
mained in the room. Gustaf looked
into his son’s eyes, Norman into his
father’s. Each saw there a stubborn
ness, a wilfullness, a slow, cold, un
yielding determination. Gustat start
ed to speak. Norman shook his head.
“We're not going out, sir,” he said.
Gustaf understood, this time. His
red eyelids wrinkled. His lean face
twisted as if some sharp agony con
vulsed it. Hls knotty right hand lift
ed forwara slowly, one short finger
pointing toward the door. .
“You get out, too!” he sald. He
looked at Norman with compassion
less eyes. “Whose boat is this? I'll
have no cowards about my cabin. You
don’t belong to no crew of mine!
They's too much Frenchie in you. No
boy of minel! Wantin’ to go in the
lights . . . the lazy, pokin’ land
‘lubberin’ lights!”
Norman did not speak.
Gustaf repeated: “Get outl”
He folded his arms. Rage had
chilled his tongue. He spoke with a
mighty dignity. His was not the volce
of a brawling fisherman, ordering a
fisherman’'s son from a humble door,
Norman, {n spite of the appalling dis
may that clutched his heart, felt some
thing splendid In bis father’s slow
Raven Led Voyagers to Iceland’s Shores
Though Iceland now belongs to Den
mark, it was discovered by the Mac-
Dougalls of Argylishire, ancestors of’
the family which now resides at Dun
ollie castle, and whose eldest daugh
ter 18 known by the picturesque name
of the “Maid of Lorn."”
In early days the MacDougalls were
sea rovers, and when on thelr adven
turous voyages they always bad with
them several ravens—their mascot
bird, Salling along the sea north
ward on a voyage of discovery, a Mae:
Dougall chief let loose a raven, hoping
it would show where land lay, but the
bird returned In the direction whence
they had come.
Continuing thelr voyage, another
raven was releaged, and fter cireling
around overhead, It came back to the
ship. Knowing the raven's unerring
—-.—_—-———_—'“.{
Didn’t Work Right
Two of my young friends, newly
weds from the city, inoved on a farm
to begin thelr married life. They de
cided to ralse chickens. Ten hens
were set carefully on fifteen eggs
aplece in boxes side by side and as
carefully nalled In,
At the end of three weeks the
young bride eagerly undic the first
hen, fully expecting to see a nest of
fluffy chicks. To her horror the hen
was dead and not an egg plpped. Un
belleving, each hen was lookec at, but
all had met the same fate. It was a
sad but wiser couple when the next
hens were set.—Capper's Weekly,
CHARLTON COUNTY HERAT.D
speech, something aloof, something
haughty - and .assured. . This was a
‘tone thut tolerates no argument, that
assumes obedience. ;
“You're scart to go out and lift nets
in a little blow,” Gustaf said. *l'll
have no coward for son. You don't
need come back.”
Norman turned, and left the shack.
He stumbled over a fish barrow just
outside the door. Ed Baker slouched
near the end of the dock, his ollskins
whipping in the wind. He laughed
audibly. Norman hesitated, then
stulked on. What did e care for Ba
ker? He was putting Ed Baker and
all Madrid Bay behind bim. It was
not his choice. He had not deserted.
His father had decided for him. In
his pocket be still held an appoint
ment to the lighthouse service.
“Coward!” old Gustaf had said. “I'l
have no coward for a son!”
Was he a coward? :
| . . ] - . . "
It was twenty blustery miles to
Blind Man’s Eye. Norman ran out
1 impetuously from his father's house,
an old dunnage bag over his shoulder,
In it all that he owned. Norman's re
sentment chilled as the door of the
house slammed. Its hemlock panel
shut bim out with a curt finality, Not
ffom his father . . . so long as
the winds blew and the lake rolled
his father would be near him. But
that other gentler memory, the mem
‘ory of his black-ey&d mother, seemed
now to be imprisoned hopelessly with-
An the walls, . i
“Coward!™ old 'Gustaf had. called
him. Not a sailor on the coast would
have gone out needlessly into that
storm today. The strugglé would have.
killed old Gustaf. But because his
Son forbade it, he called him afraid. -
~ 'Well, was he? It was not fear of
drowning that' troubléd him.. He had
‘seen death lay a wét hand on that
- shore more than once. He could die
by water if he had to. But how would
.he uet while doing it? Like a claw-
Ing, spitting cat, hair up all over his
head? It had not been fear kept him
ashore teday, No, in spite of all Gus
taf had said!
? But fear might keéep him.ln some
other day. He had never been tested
in a gale. The winds howled at him
- now, taunting him with their cries,-
‘cries that shaped themselves ‘ into
words, words that formed phrases,
| brutal phrases from the story of the
| schooner Gottland. * - :
‘ “It was a good dog. ' Big.. Hairy all
i over, We felt sorry that dog was lost.
But the woman? She give nobody
_enough to eat!”
He left the main road after a stout
fifteen miles and bent with a climbing
path among low hillocks up to the
open sand dunes. From the top of the
last dune he looked down on the
fiouncing lake, on the slender tower
of Blind Man's Eye, on the squat
roofs of the boat sheds and houses
of the nearby coast guard station, Nor
man made out the figures of men in
the surt sliding a lifeboat pp to land.
He trudged up the wash to the light
house, a quarter mile beyond the coast
guard station, The wind was dying.
dying a surly and unwilling death. It
would blow itself out tonight. And to
morrow his father probably would lift
his nets. Nbrman's eyes grew bitter
again for a moment ; immediately §oft
ened to their pale, kindly blue , . .
he must write Julle Richaud that he
had come to Blind Man's Eye.
' There were three buildings on the
lighthouse reservation. The light tow-,
er itself grew upward out of rocks,
directly at the edge of the water.
Norman knocked on the house door.
It was opened by a tall, brown-halred
young woman who looked at him with
lively ilnterest.
“Erickson’s my name,” Norman sald,
“I'm assigned here.”
“Come in,” she Invited.
She led him through a short hall,
“In there,” she directed, and left
him at once.
The room Norman entered was the
kitchen, White, glistening, with
serubbed boards and painted wood
work, the black stove radiant with
polish, windows sparkling, brass lamps
Instinct for making for land, they
knew there was none near,
On they sailed, and then let loose
another bird, which set off In the di
rection they were salling. Following
it, these iptrepid voyagers of the west
ern Isles veached the unknown land of
[celand. ;
Gas Once a Curiosity
When the firet gas lights were in.
troduced In Baltimore, In 1816, they
were placed on exhibit in the museum
there and crowds pald admlission to
see them. Newspaper accounfs de
seribed them as marzelous *ights
without 011, tallow, wick or smoke."
The exhibit proved sg s o&gful that
A gas company was, fo?::fi the next
year, and the streets of the city were
soon lighted by the lamps. This was
one of the first ‘commercial Installa
tiens in the United States.—Popular
Mechanies Magazine,
; “Red-Hots”
At a recent muslcal program, only
three members of the quartet ap
peared on the stage while the fourth
entered from the front door In cos
tume with a flery-red wig. He caused
a little excitement, especlally for the
children, Little Vera Gene, age three,
remarked: “Mother, I bet that mah
has been eating ‘red-hots,’ for he
surely has red-hot halr”
~ Even the still, small volce of con
sclence becomes a bablt, It keeps on
getting stiller and smaller,—Exchange,
gleaming. At the table, scratching his
forehead meditatively with the end of
a penholder, a tidy stack of notebooks
and documents before him, sat a small
fat old man with scant curly hair, a
nose like a cluster of ripe raspberries,
a little round mouth and little round
eyes that blinked through little round
spectacles,
“Eh?" he addressed Norman, “Who
i are you?”
- Norman explained with unusual
;clearness of tongue. The fat man
- arose.
~ “Erickson?” he repeated. “Eh? Well.
well, that's a good waterproof name.
1 like the name Erickson. Assistant
~who just left was named Frank Jones.
Can't tell much about the name Jones.
‘Erickson’s better. Mine's Stocking.
Capt'n Sam’l Stocking. Capt'n Sam'l
Stocking o’ Lake Huron.”
Norman shook hands gravely.
“Superintendent wrote he was send
ing a man,” the keeper commented.
“Didn't say who. Didn't say when
he'd get here.”
“I'm a night earlier than Instrue
tions,” said Norman, i
Captain Stocking did not wait to
hear him.
“Jones went this morning, come sun
up. Going to get married. You met
Susan? Hey, Susan, ahoy there, Sue!”
He pitched his volce to a cheery bel
low.
“Ahoy yourself!” his daughter an
swered.
~ She,appeared immediately. She was
tall, -much taller than her father, but
in spite of that she gave a quick
Jaunty ‘lmpmsslon. She was still plain
1y inlerested in what the new assistant
“looked like, She stared at him frankly.
© “Meet the girl,” Captain Stocking
“cried. “Sue, thig 18 Erickson, the new
assistant, Got. here in time for sup
per, If we ever have supper, Steve
brought that fish yet?"
“He’s coming up the beach now,”
the girl said. “I'll cook it soon as he
gets here.”
Her voice was unlike her father's
unlike any woman's Norman had
known except Julie Richaud’s, It was
ag smooth as Julie's but not so ex
cited. She was surer of herself than
Julle. gl
"A man entered solidly In rubber
boots. He was about twenty-five per
haps, round-shoulddered with a burnt
orange complexion and watery eyes.
Captain Stocking seemed glad to see
him.
. “Make you acquainted with Erick
son, Steve . . . Erickson the new
assistant . . . Sutton our nearest
neighbor. That's his shack, right along
the shore there . . . see It from
the winder. There's his fish boat
‘drawed up.” y
Sue Stocking crossed to the stove,
rattled pans and turned, her hands
covered with flour,
~ “What time is t, dad?” she askea,
Captain Stocking danced his spee
tacles off the end of his little nose.
“Time? he cried. “By hoky poky!
Whyn't you tell me what time it was?
We got just twenty minutes 'fore light
ought to show!” He reached for his
hat. “Best climb up to the tower,
you new fellow. 3tart getting your
instructions.”
They followed a plank walk to the
rocks. Captain Stocking, puffing, sput
tering, spitting out odd bits of con
versation, led the way rapldly Into a
dark room and lighted a bracket lamp
upon the wall, In one corner a stalr,
unusually steep, arose through the
celling.’
" The keeper lighted the way with a
shining - brass lantern that he took
from a wall cupboard by the door.
The angular outline of steps lifted into
the air, converging toward the top.
“Never mind countin’!” Captain
Stocking grunted. “They’s ninety-one,”
“Ninety-one?”
“Steps.”
He pushed open a trap-door. Nor
man followed him Into a snug white
painted room with black trim upon
doors and casements, resembling . the
chart room of a vessel,
“The lamp room, when we burnt
01l wicks,” Stocking explained. “Use
it for spare parts now we got the new
generating lamp. Them gauges there,
you got to watch, them keep the kero
sene reservolr fllled for the lamp
. « here, I'll show you now.”
On the wall a ship's chronometer
ticked with melancholy precision,
Lockers ranged three sides, In the
center a circular ifron staircase wrig
gled up to a round hole in the celling,
through which protruded an iron lad
der that vanished perpendicularly
above. Captain Stocking climbed
ahead up the ladder, talking, kicking
out his heels, Above, In the lantern
case Itself, Norman saw his owlish
little chief open a brass-bound door In
the rear of a great lens, saw the flare
of a glorified bonfire In the thick re
fllecting glass, heard the sputter of
vapor, and Blind Man's Eye swallowed
up the world In its glare of light.
Norman thought that his dutles
would be simple, The lamp must be
cleaned eunch day, the tower steps
scrubbed, brass shined, lenses polished,
the 01l tank filled and charged, a day
and night look-out kept for fogs and
thick weather; and whenever a mist
obscured the horizon the fires must be
touched off under the bollers 1p the
signal house, to make steamn and wet
the automatle Jog whistle blowing,
Alternnte days would be free of re
sponsibility,. The night watch be
would divide with Captain Stocking.
At supper Captain Stocking sparred
oceaslonally with bls daughter, It
developed that she liked to talk.
“Where you ealled, Erickson?" Cap
tain Stocking nrked the question sud
denly, his knife and fork pointing
sidewise like the hands of a weather
vane, Norman saw Susan and Steve
Sutton both turn thelr eyes toward
bim inquiringly. |
(10 BE CONTINUED,) |
in the STOMACH
HAVE YOU ever sus- .
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That lost vitality, those & 4#¢ &3
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that cold you can’t T
shake off-—your stom=
achisprobablyrespon- ohitorbnam 10
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regular action of a reliable stomach
remedy like PE-RU-NA—known for
over fifty years as the World's Greatest
Stomach Remedy. It clears away that
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PE-RU-NA will soon tone up your
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begin taking it today.
For Piles,Corns
Bunions,Chilblains,etc.
Hanford’s
Balsam of Myrrh
All dealers are authorized to refund your money for the
" first bottle if not suited,
MEDITERRANEAN ¢ruise
8600 u;
ss “‘Transylvania' sailing Jan. 38
Clark's 25th cruise, 66 days, including Madei
Canary Islands, Casablanca, Rabat, Cnpitllr:f
Moroceo, Spain, Algiers, Malta, Athens, Con
stantinople, lfidny-"nlestinennd Egypt, Italy,
Riviera, Cherbourg, (Paris), Includes hotels,
guides, motors, ete.
Norway-Mediterranean, June 29, 1929; S6OO up
FRANK C.CLARK, Times Bidg.,N.Y.
A\ a 8 e ) bAtE Y ‘ o
IF'RACTOR SAW MILLS
PR — u.h_.’.‘-., Ty g o s esek se e
=are doubling thelr outputy vlearing from $lO to 916 pet day
aalpg Miner's 2 BaW Gang Edger (ope movable saw), Make
short lutbar that now s going [nto slabs,” turn small logs but
w.ve, the Edger doing the vest: * Run itiand the saw at the same
T Ms £ cutting ‘when main saw {8 cutting light h?m.\
thie luy turhied ot londed,’ No extiiman to vin it und only & few
gallony Inare gar Used. | Mail ageard for full \rnrlhulurl. T
cut and testimonials, $126 up With sawa™ Ball bearings extra
R 114 o 5 B o e e 3
J: H.MINER, Drawer 632, Meridian, Miss.
Typewriter or Steel
Pen Not for Lowell
Eighty or more years ago when me
tallic pens were superseding quills,
James Russell Lowell was sure litera
ture would suffer in consequence., In
a letter to Sidney Howard Gay on
June 16, 1846, he wrote:
“The injury to letters from an au
thor's losing that space for meditation,
which was formerly afforded him by
the wise necessity of mending his pen,
is incalculable.”
Half a century later Lowell wrote
to Mrs. W, K. Clifford, the novelist:
“Typewriters are as bad as postal
cards. Both of them are unclean
things I have never touched, Type
writing is hard to read. lam sure
I could never say what I would if I
had to pick out my letters like a
learned pig.”—Detroit News,
| Smallest Restaurant
Paris boasts that it has the tinfest
restaurant in the world, It is called
the Petit restaurant, situated in the
Rue Hippolyte Ledas, and seats five
persons, who are accommodated at
one table, In spite of the Increasing
popularity, the proprietor refuses to
enlarge the premises,
Gems From Dr. Johnsing
The discussion at the literary club
was about the power of conscience,
Boswell—Sßir, my conscience won't
let me do wrong,
Doctor Johnsing—Why, sir, neither
will mine, Still, it's a poor conscience
that won't meet you half-way.,—Louls.
ville Courier-Journal,
Weather Report
George had just hurried home from
kindergarten through the cool, crisp
air, His mother, opening the door to
admit him, ventured the remark, “It's
pretty cool outside, Isn’t it.”
With the gravity of a seer glving
the latest weather reports, he replied;
“Oh, about twenty disease,”
Fire Prevention
During the recent fire prevention
week In Syracuse, N, Y., Bey Scouts
of that munlielpality distributed thou
sands of printed cards to household
ers, reminding them that 90 per cent
of all fires are preventable and that 60
per cent of the fires last year were
in homes,
Setting the Pace
Radio Expert (after overhauling
set)—There's nothing wrong with your
radio set,
New Owner—Oh, Isnt' there? We
felt sure the dance music was coming
through too fast,
Not So Loud!
Glant—Where In the world 1s ths
Indin rubber man?
Dwarf-The fat lady 18 using hha
for n garter.~Life,
y
Grove’s
Tasteless
Chill Tonic
Is an Excellent Tonic for Women
and Children. 60c,
A Jepesot Qo Live it
'rmm;ms CHILL TONIC for those
who wish to take a Laxative in connec
tion with the Toule,
L A SKIN
REMO e
gT s " ';fi.:.‘:'c:'““.;.. Hentls
Vs T "Rk se oo e "
O, GM, Berry Co,, 297 Michigan Ave., Chicag®