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■ T Lost Books That Caused Tragedies The Joys of Motor Boating Startling Facts Concerning 1 his Universal Sport, Based on Articles in Motor Boating Magazine for May t -r THEN Thomas Carlyle had fln- yy ished the first volume of hi« "French Revolution,” a work which had coat him months of In- ceasant toil and the verification of thousunda of facts and references, he lent the manuscript to John Stuart Mill. Surely, that philosopher had one of the worst tanks ever alloted to a mortal man when he had to tell the "Page of Chelsea* that the price less manuscript had been thrown Into the Are by a careless servant, and unly a few charred leaves—still to he ^een in Cheyne Row, Chelsea—re mained to tell the tale. Sir Inaac Newton was the victim of a similar catastrophe, but the “friend” responsible was not human, but canine—his favorite litle dog. He left him in his study alone, and when h' came back found that he had “chewed” the mathematical calcula tions of many strenuous months. Many accounts My that Newton took It very calmly, but the truth is that it preyed upon his mind to such an extent a? to cause much temporary mental aberration Byron’s ‘‘Memoirs.'’ One of the great losses to literature was the burning of six books of Spencer’s “Faery Queen,” which the poet is said to have left in his house in County Tyrone, Ireland. A re bellion broke out and the place wae burned: and not only did the poet’s youngest child perish in the flames, hut, it is said, also about as much of the great poem as we possess at present. All lovers of Byron are aware that this erratic genius found time in his short adventurous life to write his memoirs, and that on his death these passed Into the hands of his friend Thomas Moore, who, exercising a dis cretion committed to him. promptly consigned the manuscript to the flames. No doubt the writer of “Irish Melo dies” had very good and highly prop er reasons for taking this decisive step, and it is quite likely that the publication of the memoirs would not, for obvious reasons, have been pos sible for many years after the poet’s death; yet as succeeding generations have been brought face to face with the peculiar complex genius of Byron, with Its lofty moods and its many dark places, they have felt need of the light which only the records writ ten hv a vanished hand could have supplied. Despondent Strindberg. Since the death of Auguste Strind berg. the famous Swedish novelist and dramatist—who, by the way, had much in common with Byron—many of his works have been translated into the English language and are already the center of heated contro versy in literary\ circles. It Is possi ble. therefore, that the powerful, if somewhat misanthropical writings of this Swedish recluse may be read and treasured by generations to come. But all liis works will not go down to posterity, for it is said that in a sud den fit of despondency Strindberg himself destroyed a number of his manuscripts, which, through lack of tirm* or inclination, he never wrote »gain. Are Children a Duty? In This Article, Which Is No. 3 in the Series, the Author Says That the Little Ones Are Clearly Entitled to Justice. The Girl With the Aigrette H By GARRETT P. S2RVISS. T HE joy of motion! How it has ; been heightened by the autocar, the aeroplane and the motor ; boat! Heightened not merely because I the motion has been rendered swifter j and more sensuous, but because the j driving power has been almost spirit- , uallzed. The little motors are like j mysterious gnomes,and one never tires of seeing them miraculously doing the work of giants. It goes far toward satisfying the universal longing of | humanity to be able to accomplish things by simply willing that they bo done. A measure of the delight that these , new forms of locomotion afford is shown in the astonishingly rapid spread of the use of the motor boat. 1 confess my surprise in viewing the ' chart, jmblished in the May number ! of Motor Boating Magazine, which ex- ! hibits the dfstributbm of the 256,950 motor boats now in use in the United j States. More than 50,000 of these are in the Middle Western States, a thousand miles or more from the ocean, and there are even several hundreds in the mountain States of the Far West' Wherever there exists a little lake, or a navigable stream, the pleasures of motor boating can be, and are, en joyed. The motor boat draws little water, and Is very powerful and flexi ble in its movements, so that It would seem to be an interesting ex perlment to try It in some of the wild canyons of the West. On the Pacific. On the Pacific Coast the charm of the motor boat appears to be more universally appreciated even than in the East, for 1 find, from the same authority, that California and its neighbors have twelve of these fairy craft to every thousand of the popu- Women and girls as well as men are keen for the delights of motor boating. By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER Do You Know Thai— K ING ALFONSO is credited with forming a collection of objects associated with the various at tempts against his life. Among other items he possesses the teat of a feed ing bottle with which an attempt was made to poison him at the age of eight months; the walking stick with which a discontented servant tried to brain him; pieces of the bomb thrown at him in Barcelona; the skeleton of one of the horses killed by the bomb attempt in the Due De- Rivoli, Paris; and fragments col lected in the street after the ex plosion of the infernal machine hurled at the royal carriage on his wedding day. A curiosity of nest building that is probably unique has Just been discov ered at one of Messrs. Chisers & Sons’ farms near Cambridge. Within a short distance of the jam factory six fruit baskets were tied together &nd hung in a cart shed, where a number of men are often at work. In every one of these baskets a bird has built its nest, and in two cases the nests have eggs. The builders include black birds. song-thrushes and missel- thruehes, and as the baskets are be ing left alone, it is hoped that each mother will hatch out her brood Mr 'William Augustus Gordon Hake, who is now 102, is easily the oldest living English barrister He is a cousin of General Gordon, lives at Brighton, which seems to make a specialty of residents who have long passed the allotted span, and has still sufficient vitality to brush aside in fluenza and bronchitis and little trou bles of that nature. The curious in these matters will be interested to learn that he attributes his long life and good health to abstemiousness and plenty of exercise. A Poisoned Arrow. A pharmacist in Pasadena had a stranger call in and ask for a bottle of alcohol. “I'm afraid 1 can't let you have it without a doctor s prescription,” he an swered •Why not ” Do T look like a man who would kill himself?” “I wouldn i go so far a» to say that sir; but if I looked like you I should be tempted." \ F parents cannot do justice to children after they are here, there can scarce ly be any fulfilment x ot duty to them in bringing them here. By “Justice” I do not mean luxury. Money In abundance is not good for children, and it is well for them to learn self-denial in some directions. Your son may not be able to own a motor car or a saddle horse, as does your neigh bor’s son, and yet he can be quite as happy as the wealthier lad; he may have to deny himself many luxuries if he would save money for a trip to the mountains or seashore, and he may have to economize carefully to make his al lowance (all you can afford to give him), supply all his needs. He is none the worse, indeed, is rather the better, for all these facts. But he Is no better for not having •lothes that are decent enough for him to wear in the circle to which he was born; he is none' the happier for being denied the education to which his in tellect entitles him. It is a sad thing for an ambitious and j bright lad, with intellectual tastes and thirst for knowledge, to have to en ter an office as soon as he is out of grammar school so thaOhe may earn the ; money that is needed at home. He can be young but once, and in relinquishing ie education that he wants to take, or which you should insist upon his tak- ig, he is letting slip opportunities nch he can never recall, changing, perhaps, the whole current of his life nd entering the race handicapped from his youth up. Is there any duty that compels so many children to be born that this state of affairs is a necessity? Are not par ents performing their duty mpre when they have tw'o or three children whom they can feed, clothe and educate prop erly than in having seven or eight, to not one of whom they can do justice? Of course it is a high ambition to bear children with the idea of training them to be such good men and women that the world will be better for their having lived in it. That is the ambi tion which all may feel for their sons and daughters after they are here. How many parents have their children with that special ambition in mind? Finally, may it not be that we OWE a duty to the children themselves? Are they to be left out of the reckoning? Are we to rush them in numbers into i sphere in which they cannot develop he best that is in them? Should we Teel no hesitation in ushering them into family already so full that w r e wonder •'rom week to week how all the mouths are to be fed and all the bodies clothed? Who‘that looks at the “little inoth- rs” carrying one child and leading an ther, burdened with weights and re sponsibilities far beyond their years, old before their time, dare say that the parents of these little burden-bearers fulfil any duty to God or man in bring ing a child into the world every year? Some one must suffer for it, and in this performance of what some people deem a duty the sufferers are not only the parents but the innocent children them selves. Said a happy grandmother to a friend: I am sure that children are a duty. .> hat would m.v life be without my idren and grandchildren?” This woman did not think deeply pnough when she asked that question to appreciate that the tender care she receives is not the result of her having merely given birth to her children. It is. the result 6f her proper training of vhe children after they are here. Her circumstances were such that she was enabled to do full justice to her one girl and two boys, so that each char ter was properly developed, each nind well trained, each intellect allow ed to improve and expand. That was where thus mother did her best worn. >ut if asked if she had her children •COM A SEN§E OF DUTY she ^ouid reply truthfully in the negative. She loved children, she wanted them, but e loved them too much to have more of them than she could care for. The Psalmist declared tha. children were a gift from the Lord. Many par ents feel that they are, and they are rht in declaring that they are bles sings and delights in many homes, mak- ' life well worth the living. But at the Lord is responsible for send- og children here, marred before birth inherited evils, and crushed after rth by pain and want—one can hardly believe; and the statement that bringing ddren into the world under all con- litions and circumstances is the duty every married couple is one to which * thoughtful lover of his kind will agree. ERE Is a small, smart hat that can be made up in expensively or otherwise, just a" milady can afford. It is modeled after the popu lar rolled-up brim shape, which is fast becoming a favorlte^this season. If one can afford a large aigrette, the hat becomes a thing of great beauty. : -A, h. A7 m $ (The brim ofj this hat is 5 rolled on the left side and; is lined with: a brocaded satin in the same color, forming a point on thej right side. Its only trimming is j the white aigrette put j at the ex treme back. | WITHIN THE LAW A Powerful Story of Adventure, Infringe and Love Copyright, 1913, by the H. K. Fly Com pany. The play “Within the Law” is copyrighted by Mr. Veiller and this novelization of it is published by his permission. The American Play Com pany is the sole proprietor of the ex clusive rights or the representation and performance of “Within the Law” in all languages. The map, reproduced by permission from Motor Boating Magazine for May, shows at a glance how the sport of motor boating has spread over the country, and the proportion of motor boats to the population in various sections. The hydroplane is the “Ankle Deep.” which has shown a speed of more than fifty miles an hour. lation, while on the Atlantic seaboard the number is only four to the thousand of population. Then look at the photographs of racing motor boats! They seem to be fairly leaping from the waves. The danger Is minimized because the water is no terror to good swimmers, or to those provided with proper • floats And the joy of the swift mo tion is increased by the whipping spray and salt breeze. Fortunately & motor boat is com paratively a cheap means of amuse ment and outdoor exercise. Almost anyone can own one, and anybody can learn to run his own boat. The coat of fuel and of keeping is small. And no healthier form of sport could well be imagined. If you live in the country, your own little lake or winding river will afford you many pleasant surprises as you glide through its shaded reaches, or into and out of its hidden bays. If you I are more ambitious, and have a larger boat, you mky make astonishing voy ages on the sea itself, running in to the shores and exploring shallow' waters where no ordinary boat would be able to penetrate. You may fish, you may camp, you may anchor, you may take refuge, almost anywhere you please. A Wonderful Cruise. And all th» while you will be learn ing the art of navigation and ac quiring skill in the management of marine machinery. You will find out how to lay your course by the com pass, or the stars, or the buoys and landmarks. You will also learn the art of keeping a log. which in itself is delightful. A ships log Is always fascinating: that of a motorboat Is no less so. It is the diary of adventure* By your winter fire you will take out your log book, with its tarry smell recalling your summer cruise, and live over again your adventures as you turn its pages. In the magazine to which I have referred I have been perusing the story of a motorboat cruise of 2,600 miles along the Atlantic coast, in cluding the crossing of the Ever glades of Florida and Lake Okeecho bee, the mere names of which are like a breath of romance. I only wish the writer had told more about that enchanted region, with Its cypresses snd palms. Its tangled waterways and all its tropical trangeness and mag nificence. Such things never fail to stir the imagination. There Is a practical aspect of motor boating along the coast which occurs to me. It Is capable of proving of great value in the defense of the country by familiarizing a large num ber of persons with short outlines, depth of water, hidden channels, range sights, etc., which might be of By MARVIN DANA from the Play by BAYARD VEILLER. TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. Aggie took advantage of the pause. Her voice was ueid. “Some people are sneaks—just sneaks! ” Somehow, the speech was welcome to the girl, gave her a touch of cour age sufficient for cowardly protesta tions. It seemed to relieve the ten- slpn drawn by the other woman's torment. It was more like the abuse that was familiar to her. A gush of tears came. •Til never forgive myself, never!” she moaned. Contempt mounted in Mary's breast. Her Voice Rang With Contempt. “Oh, yes, you will,” she said, malevolently. “People forgive them selves pretty easily." The contempt checked for a little the ravages of her grief “Stop crying,” she command ed, harshly. "Nobody is going to hurt you." She thrust the money again toward the girl, and crowaed It into the ha If-reluctant, half-greedy hand. "Take It, and get out.” The contemp In her voice rang still sharper, mor dant. E*en the puling creature writhed under the lash of Mary's tones. She sprang up, slinking back a step. “I can t take it!” she cried, whim pering. But she did not drop the money. “Take it while you have it,” Mary counseled, still with the contempt that pierced even the hardened girl’s sense of selfishness. She pointed toward the door. “Go—before I change «iy mind.” The girl needed, indeed, no second bidding. With the money still clutched in her hand she went forth swiftly, stumbling a little in her SYNOPSIS. critical Importance in case of war. hMte fearful lest, at the laat me- Every observant motor boatman may ment , the woman she had so wrongsd make himself a valuable auxiliary In ihou i d Jn f ac t change in mod, take naval defense. In an emergency he j b4ck th# mone y—ay, even give her might become a volunteer pilot of over t0 thM terrible man with the Indispensable importance at a crisis. eyet 0 f h ate, to put her to death as Read Cooper's story of "The Pilot” | the deserved and you will see what I mean. The same observation applies to metor- boat exploration along the shores of the Great Lakes. And think how de lightfully this knowledge can be ob tained! KODAKS BMiSV The Br.f t inl.hln, frlp-j Ipj That Can Be Product * I E mud SB Films and <*cw- p*o*r stoat; amateur supplier. Q-iicA mall sendee for out*«f vvni c**toa*»r*. Send fer Catalog end Price List, A. K. HAWKES CO. •ggSR U WAltHAll SW.Atlanta, OlW “You didn’t buy that big: touring car you were looking at last fall, did you, Hawkinsf?” said Garraway. “No." snid Hawkins. “1 got a couple of little runabouts instead.” “Runabouts?” reported Garraway. “Yep.” said Hawkins. “My wife pre sented me with twins. Can’t afford too many luxuries all at once.” "I don’t see how you can laugh this way.” said the Sheriff, as he attached Dubbleigh’s car for a debt owed to Higby. and observed that Dubbleigh seemed highly amused bv it. “Oh, I Just can’t help it.” laughed Dubbleigh. “1 only owe Higby $500 and it’ll cost him three times tl\at to run that car six months.” “My dear." said hhe New York man, “where did you get the new wait ress’.”’ "She says* she used to be in vaude ville.” replied his wife. “Good. Nona we van have home dinners v^ith cabaret features.” “What did they give yous< last house?” "Gimme three minutes turning loose de dog.” at dat before “Why do politicians wear high hats and frock coats?” asked the person who makes trivial inquiries. “Well.” replied Senator Sorghum, “the high hat and the frock coat con stitute the appropriate attire for occa sions both of mourning and congrat ulation. And every election makes a politician feel as if he were going to n funeral or a wedding.” “Your flow'ers in the hall seem flour ishing.” “Doing nicely, thank you.” “They evidently get plenty of wa ter; hut watering plants ie such a task.” “Not for me. The bath room above leaks.” He was* a stingy guy and he Cared not for hoots or jeers; When asked to give to charity He said: “I’ll give three cheers." “I had to kill my ing,” said the Boob. dog this morn- Was he mad?" asked the Cheerful Idiot. "Well, he didn’t seem any too well pleased,” replied the Boob. He Leaped Acrois the Room. Freed from the miasma of that presence, Mary remained motionless for a long minuter then sighed from her tortured heart. She urned and went slowly to her chair at the desk, and seated herself languidly, weak ened by the ordeal through which she had passed. “A girl I didn’t know!” she said bewiideringly; "perhaps had never spoken to—who smashed my life like that! Oh, If it wasn’t so awful it would be—funny! It would be fun ny!" A gust of hysterical laughter burst from her. “Why, it is funny!” she cried, wildly. “It is funny!” "Mary!” Garson exclaimed sharp ly. He leaped across the room to face her. “That’s no good!” he said severely. Aggie, too, rushed forward. "No good at all!” she declared loudly. The interference recalled the dis tressed woman to herself. She made a desperate effort for self-command. Little by little, the unmeaning look died down, and presently she sat si lent and moveless, staring at the two with stormy eyes out of a wan face. “We Understand.” “You were right.” she said at last, in a lifeless voice. “It’a done, and can’t be undone. I was a fool to let it affect me like that. I really thought I had lost all feeling about it. but the sight of that girl—the knowledge that she had done it— brought it all back to me. Well, you understand, don’t you?” "We understand,” Garson said, grimly. But there was more than grimness, Infinitely mere, in the ex- Mary Turner, an orphan, employed in Edward Gilder's department store, is accused of theft and sent to prison, though innocent. Aggie Lynch, a convict friend of Mary’s at Burn sing, sees good “possibilities” for her in the world of crime. Upon Mary's release she is continually hounded and in desperation throws herself into the North River. Joe Garson, a forger, rescues her and keeps her and Aggie in luxury, though living chaste lives. Mary becomes the lead er of a band of swindlers, robbing only the unscrupulous and keeping always “within the law.’’ Gilder’s son Dick meets and loves Mary, who I seeks to wreak vengeance on the father through the son. A girl who has been in prison Hears of Mary's charitable disposition, calls on her < and faints from want of nourishment. Now Go on With the Story presslon of his clear, glowing eyes. Aggie thought that it was her turn to voice herself, which she did with out undue restraint. “Perhaps we do, but I dunno! I’ll tell you one thing, though. If any dame sent me up for three years and then wanted money from me, do you think she’d get it? Wake me up any time In the night and ask me. Not much—not a little bit much! I'd hang on to it like an old woman to her last tooth.” And that was Ag gie’s final summing up of her impres sions concerning the scene she had just witnessed. A Bridegroom Spurned, After Aggie’s vigorous comment there followed a long silence. That volatile young person, little troubled as she was by sensitiveness, guessed the fact that just now further dis cussion of the event would be dis tasteful to Mary, and so she betook herself discreetly to a cigarette and the Illustrations of a popular maga zine devoted to the stage. As for the man, his reticence was really from a fear lest in speaking at all he might speak too freely, might betray the pervasive violence of his feeling. So, he sat motionlese and wordless, his eyes carefully ayoiding Mary in order that she might’ not be disturbed by the invisible vibrations thus sent from one to another. Mary herself was shaJcen to the depths, A great weariness, a weariness that cried the worthlessness of all things, had fallen upon her. It rested leaden on her soul. It weighed down her body as well, though that mattered little indeed. Yet, since she could minister to that readily, she rose and went to a settee on the opposite side of the room where she arranged her self among the cushions In a posture more luxurious than her rather pre cise early training usually permitted her to assume In the presence of oth ers. There she rested, and soon felt the tides of energy again flowing in her blood, and that same vitality, too wrought healing even for her agon-1 ized soul, though more slowly. The perfect health of her gave her strength to recover speedily from the shock she had sustained. Her Hair Sparkled. It was this health that made the glory of the flawless skin, white with a living white that revealed the cours ing blood beneath, and the crimson; lips that bent in smiles so tender, or so wistful, and the limpid eyes in! which always lurked fires that some times burst into flame, the lustrous' mass of undulating hair that sparkled I In .Che sunlight like an aureole to her! face or framed it In heavy splendors j with its shadows, and the supple erectness of her graceful carriage, the j lithe dignity of her every movement. But at last she stirred uneasily and sat up. Garson accepted this as a sufficient warrant for speech. “You know—Aggie told you—that Cassidy was up here from headquar ters. He didn’t put a name to it, but I’m on.” Mary regarded him inquir ingly, and he continued, putting tb^ fact with a certain brutal bluntness after the habit of his class. “I guess 1 you’ll have to quit seeing young Gil der. The bulls are wise. His father has made a holler.” “Don’t let that worry you, Joe,” she said tranquilly. She allowed a few seconds to go by, then added as if quite indifferent: "I was married to Dick Gilder this morning.” There came a squeal of amazement from Aggie, a start of incredulity from Garson “Yes.” Mary repeated evenly, "I was married to him this morning. That was my important engagement,’’ she added with a smile toward Aggie. For some intuitive reason, mysterious to herself, she did not care to meet the man’s eyes at that moment. Aggie sat erect, her baby face alive with worldly glee. "My Gawd, what luck!” she ex claimed, noisily. “Why, he’s a king fish, he is. Gee! But I’m glad you landed him!” “Thank you,” Mary said, with a smile that was the result of her sense of humor rather than from any ten derness. It was then that Garson spoke. He was a delicate man in his sensibili ties at times, in spite of the fact that he followed devious methods in his manner of gaining a livelihood. So, now, he put a question of vital sig nificance. “Do von love him?” The question caught Mary all un prepared, but she retained her self- control sufficiently to make her an swer in a voice that to the ordinary ear would have revealed no last tremor. "No,” she said. She offered no final explanation, no excuse, merely state! the fact in all its finality. Aggie Looked Shocked. Aggie was really shocked, though for a reason altogether sordid, not one whit romantic. “Ain’t he young?" she demanded, aggressively. "Ain’t he good looking, and loose with his money something scandalous? If I met up with a fellow as liberal as he, if he was three times his age, I could simply adore him!" It was Garson who pressed the topic with an inexorable curiosity born of his unselfish interest in the woman concerned. ’’Then, why did you marry him?” he asked. The sincerity of him -was ex cuse enough for the seeming indelica. cy of the question. Besides, he felt himself somehow- responsible. He had given back to her the gift of life, which she had rejected. Surely, he had the right to know the truth. It seemed that Mary believed her confidence his due, for she told him the fact. ”1 have been working and scheming for nearly a year to do it,” she said, with a hardening of her face that spoke of indorpitable resolve. "Now, it’s done.” A vindictive gleam shot from her violet eyes as she added: "It’s only the beginning, too.” To Be Continued To-morrow. R 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 R -To Women- Seeking Health and Strength For those ills peculiar to women Dr. Pierce ® recommends his “Favorite Prescription” as gj “THE ONE REMEDY” 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A medicine prepared by regular graduated physician of unus ual experience in treating woman’s diseases—carefully adapted to work in harmony with the most delicate feminine constitution. All medicine dealers have sold it with satisfaction to cus tomers for the past 40 years. It is now obtainable in liquid or sugar-coated tablet form at the drug store—or send 50one-cent stamps for a trial box, to Buffalo. Every woman may write fully and confidentially to Dr. Pierce, Invalids’ Hotel and Surgical Institute, Buffalo, N. Y., and may be sure that her case will receive careful, conscientious, confidential consideration, and that experienced medical advice will be given to her absolutely free. Dr. Pierce*a Pleasant Pellets regulate and invigorate stomach, liv er and bowels. Sugar coated, tiny granules easy to take as candy. OW are you, old sport?” said Jepson to Simcoe, who, sup ported by a crutch and a cane, came slowly down the sunlit street. Sim coe was swathed until he resembled a rauinmy; he moved witty extreme car'e. When he perceived Jepson he smiled wanly. “I don’t feel very well,” he returned wearily. “I don’t seem to get much bet ter somehow.” “What are you doing for it?” Inquired Jepson. “That has a lot to do with how you feel, you. Now. I’ve got a sec ond cousin whose wife’s mother knew’ a man who was down flat on his back s with something or other, and he took— let’s see, I am not sure that I know just what it was—but, anyway, it was some sort of medicine that you rub on and take internally, too! I don’t doubt but that any druggist can tell you the name of it, if you tell him what it’s for. You get some and try it, and maybe it will cure you as quick as it did that fellow. Simcoe held up his thin hands. “Na use,” he said. “If it’s known to medi cal science I’ve already tried it. I’ve changed medicine once every three or four days for a year or so; I try a new preparation every time I turn around. I think I get worse all the time.” “Why don’t you hunt up a new doc tor?” queried Jepson, with a sudden in spiration. “Doctors!” snorted Simcoe, for the moment aroused from his lethargy - . "Doctors! I’ve had more doctors than there are men in the Mexican army. I’ve had doctors that give medicine in large doses, and doctors that give medu cine in small doses; I’ve had doctors that rub and maltreat their patients until most of them either die or get well in self-defense; I’ve had doctors that give various sorts of treatment, and some oat don’t seem to give any at all. I’ve had ’em old and young, male and fe male, white, red, black and tan and yellow—all sorts and conditions of doc- >ors. but none of them is able to make me feel as I ought to feel.” “Ever try the baths?” ventured Jep son. “All of them,’ said Simcoe. ‘'Sulphur, salt, mud, steam, hot and cold water, hops—I’ve been the whole route. And every new' kind of bath does me up worse than the one before. I must be in awful shape, and I don’t know for the life of me what I’m going to do with myself now." •Til tell you, old man," counseled Jepson, after deliberation, "if I were i in yor shoes I wouldn’t do anything. Maybe no treatment at all is what you need until you get rested up again. Anyway, the things you’ve tried haven’t helped you, you say, and this might.” “Not do anything?” exclaimed Sim coe in amazement. “Why, if I took a chance like that I’d probably be deac as a pickled eel before to-morrow. I’m* on my way now to see a new aort of medical genius that puts his patieq#.« in a barrel and piles hot bricks on their heads. It’s said that he has worked some wonderful cures. “But as for me, I don’t hope for very much. It doesn’t seem to be of much use, because the more I doctor, some- the worse I get, and the worse I get the more I have the doctor, and the more I doc—” But Jepson had fled.