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* T Six Miles Up! * *
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The picture, which was taken at an altitude of more than six miles, shows Messrs. Maurice '
Bienaime and Jacques Schneider in the ear of the balloon “Icare” wearing the patent breathing '
apparatus. Jn 1878 the balloon “Zenith” attained a height of about four miles, but two of its
three passengers were suffocated. With this apparatus the fatality could not have occurred.
■ ' i
By GARRETT P. SERVISS.
THE greatest peril for those who
ascend to great altitudes is not
that of falling, but that of being
suffocated, like fish taken out of water!
It was the climbers of high moun- 1
tains who first discovered the fact that 1
ft is often difficult for men to breathe
at a height of from two and a half to
three miles above sea level. The late I
Edward Whymper, the conqueror of <
the terrible Matterhorn, made many ex
periments on this, and he concluded,
after climbing Chimborazo and other
huge peaks in the Andes, that the
cause of “mountain sickness,” as the '
trouble was called, was due both to '
the lessened value of air that is in- I
spired at such altitudes and to the ex
pansion of the gases contained w’lthln
the body, producing a pressure upon 1
the internal organs.
But more recent study has shown
that the difficulty arises mainly from
the comparative lack of oxygen in the
upper air, and that this may be over
come by means of apparatus supplying
extra oxygen to the lungs.
The two principal constituents of the
atmosphere are oxygen and nitrogen.
Nitrogen Is an inert gas which stifles
MELANCHOLY
WOMEN
Should Profit by Mrs. Hurley's
Experience —Her Own Story
Here Told.
Eldon. M<v-“I was troubled with
displacement, organic inflammation
SBTJi, 7T311 and female weak-
■(fdFSSpShtfftt' '• nesß - For two
;- • y e?,rs I could no:
_ ' stand on my f< ct
T®? long - at a time and
WHKL A> 1 could not walk
two blocks with
out enduring cut-
W=p ting and drawing
pains down my
right side which
/ifi increased once a
a /ib month. I have
q . ftotS been at that time
—n jPwvwvt 1 .. J purple In the face
and would walk the floor. I could not
lie down or sit still sometimes for a
day and a night at a time. I was
nervous, had very little appetite, no
ambition, melancholy, and often felt
ap though 1 had not a friend in the
world.
“After I had tried most every fe
male remedy first, without success,
my mother-in-law advised me to take
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com
pound. I did so and gained in
strength every day. I have now no
trouble in any way and highly praise
your medicine. It advertises Itself ”
Mrs S. T. HURLEY. Eldon. Mis
souri.
Remember, the remedy which did
this was Lydia E. Pinkham’? Vege
table Compound. For sale every
where.
It has helped thousands of women
who have been troubled with dis
placements. inflammation, ulceration,
tumors, irregularities, periodic pains
backache, that bearing down feeling.
Indigestion, and nervous prostration,
after all other means have failed.
Why don’t you try it ?
animal respiration. Oxygen, on the
other hand, is a very active gas, which,
when breathed, supports animal life.
When mixed, as near the earth’s sur
face, in the proportion of about four
volumes of nitrogen to one of oxygen,
the air is respirable, and the inertness
of the nitrogen does no harm. But if
the proportion of oxygen is reduced the
air becomes stifling
Now, oxygen is heavier than nitro
gen in ratio of about eight to seven,
and in obedience to the law that heav
ier substances sink lower than lighter
ones, the oxygen thins out »s the
height above the ground increases,
until its proportion to the nitrogen be
comes considerably reduced. Above
three or four miles the amount of oxy
gen is so much diminished that breath
ing becomes very difficult, and at still
higher altitudes respiration may cease
entirely.
A Tragedy.
A very tragic instance of the effect
thus produced is furnished by the
story of the famous balloon ascent i
made in April. 1878. by Gaston Tls
sandier, Croye Spinelli and Signor Sivel.
They ascertoed from La Villette In
France, in the balloon "Zenith,” to a
height of 28,200 feet, or a little more
than flve and one-third miles. The
thinness of the air, and as we now
know, the relative lack of oxygen, 1
killed Spinelli and Sivel, and nearly (
cost the life of Tlssandler.
To show w’hat modern science and
invention have done to avert this peril
of the high atmosphere, let us turn to
the story of a still higher ascent, made
on May 28, 1013, by the balloon “Icare,”
carrying Albert Senouque, Jacques
Schneider and M. Bienaime. They ,
5
r
Advice to the Lovelorn i
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. ! t
IN ALL PROBABILITY, YES.
Dear Miss Fairfax;
A certain girl friend of mine
recently wrote me a letter asking
a favor of me. I could easily
oblige her as th. favor is slight.
1 have been keeping company
with a friend of hers lately and
am decidedly in love with her.
She (the one who wrote the let
ter) knows this, but still bestows
her attentions on me. I myself
am not paying her much atten
tion and do not like her. Do you
think 1 would arouse the jealousy
of my lover if I showed the other
friend this favor just to be po
lite? M. B.
You letter is rather ambiguous, as
you do not state the nature of the
favor.
If of such a nature It would cause
trouble between you and your sweet
heart, you must refuse. Tour first
thought should be of her.
And please see to it that the other
girl’s attentions are bestowed else
where. I am afraid she will make
trouble.
THERE MAY BE SOME EXCUSE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
1 am 18, am considered very
handsome, and am in love with a
boy three years my senior. He
tells me he loves me, but when we
have an engagement he always
disappoints me. Do you think he
is sincere? MARJORIE.
If by “always” you mean once or
twice, he may have been unavoidably
detamed. But if he makes a practice
of disappointing you. you must make
no more engagements with him, for he
cares nothing for you.
t
started from Lamotte-Breull in France, <
and attained an elevation of nearly 33.- <
<IOO feet, or six and a quarter miles,
and yet they did not suffer at all, and *
came down in perfect condition, and
exulting in their great feat*
Their success and immunity from 1
suffocation were due to the fact that 1
they* took with them the apparatus 1
shown in the accompanying photograph. 1
A Wonderful Picture.
This consists of an air-tight vessel
filled w’lth compressed oxygen. A mask (
which can be fitted closely over the
nose and mouth is connected by a tube j
with the reservoir of oxygen. There f
is a pressure gauge which enables the 5
aeronaut to measure the quantity of 5
oxygen remaining in the reservoir, and
there is also a device by which to reg- j
ulate the amount flowing through the
tubes. Thus they could take just as 1
much oxygen as they needed and no t
more. The rate of supply varied from
two quarts per minute to ten. The res- <
ervolr contained about 1,600 quarts.
They began to breathe the oxygen t
when at a height of about 11,600 feet. t
The method of using the apparatus is 1
shown in the photograph, which was r
taken by Senouque K showing Bienaime >
and Schneider, with their breathing
masks on, at the very time when they t
were at the top of their flight, more f
than six miles above the earth’
Similar apparatus has recently been 1
carried by mountain climbers, and by
the pilots of aeroplanes ascending to t
great altitudes. With the rapid prog
ress of aerial navigation it will become <
indispensable in the future. 1
If fish had human brains they might
safely make a voyage of discovery In i
the air!
HIS RUDENESS IS INEXCUSABLE. '
Dear Miss Fairfax: i
I have been married four years t
and am only 22 years old. My I
husband is 29. When out in com- 1
pany with my husband, is it not
his place to notice me or talk to 1
me?
When out dining at a friend’s, is r
it right for him to pay attention t
to young ladies at the table by
passing dishes to them and not
noticing me? R. B.
He does everything he should not, '
and his sins of omission are as great. 1
His behavior is unpardonable, but I
1 . know of no redrew for you. I hope all t
girls of 18 who think they are old $
enough to select a husband will take '
warning from you. 1
t
OBEY YOUR PARENTS.
Dear Miss Fairfax: (
I have been attending college, *
• I L
and last fall met a young man
who is also a student. For the
past four months he has been £
very attentive to me. I love him f
very much. My parents, who I
know the young man, say he is 1
wild and associates with bad 1
company. They want me to give <
him up. What “hall I do? I love f
my family, but I also love the
young man very, very much.
M. F. F. 1
I would urge you to obey your par- fi
ents. were the young man desirable,
for parents always know best. How *
much more I urge it since he is wild .
and dissolute! Give him up! Let .
, there be no compromise. I add my
pleadings to those oX your parents. J
Sr? — - ——i ’
ByChas?^(qoddaid. &
The Most Exciting Serial
of the Year.
SERIALIZED
By J. W. McCONAUGHY
(Copyright, 1913, by Star Co.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“Brave!” he exclaimed in low, con
temptuous tones. “It takes no bravery
to fight a coward —and that’s what this
ghost is! It’s a coward, like every other
spook. Did you ever hear of any spirit
that walked in the daytime? Never!
They sneak and dodge and hide in crum
bling and deserted places. I tell you that
men are not half so afraid of spirits as
spirits are of men! Face the supernatu
ral. and it is beaten before the fight be
gins. Spooks, horse thieves and peevish
wildcats can all be tamed by the same
little charm.”
He stoped in a dead silence. The oth
ers were staring at him intently, but
with highly different expressions.
“Charm?” repeated the Duke, vaguely.
“What is it?” asked the Princess,
breathlessly.
Unostentatiously, Jarvis produced his
pistol, handling it as one might handle
a familiar pencil. To one reared In a
community where firearms are never
seen excepting in the windows of the
hardware store the sight' of a pistol oc
casions either panic or the utmost Indif
ference. depending entirely on the de
gree of ignoranco or natural timidity.
But in localities where the revolver Is as
common and serves the same purpose
as the rapier of medieval Europe it Is a
known and fixed quantity. To one na
tive to those, localities the Interest 1n
the appearance of the pistol Is directed
entirely toward the man who displays
it—what manner of man he is and what
is his manner of handling the weapon.
The Duke had never seen a pistol ex
cepting once or twice on the field of
honor and strapped to the thigh of a
cavalry man. He was an utter stranger
to the type of man to whom a 44-cali
ber revolver Is a shield sword. Conse
quently, though any ten-year-oM boy
from the lower Ohio Valley could have
told him at one glance that Warren
Jarvis carried a revolver. Because it
was a protection and not a menace, as
it is to be unused, the appearance of
the weapon seemed to amuse him, rath
er than otherwise.
A Joke.
“I had been hoping, Mr. Warren,” he
said, with light scorn, “that you had
some subtle method of handling this
problem. But no! You propose to meet
the forces of the supernatural with fire
arms! I may tell you that this specter
has been fired at before without the
lightest effect.”
Jarvis smiled and nodded as he re
turned the pistol to his pocket.
"Quite likely,” Your Excellency. I
have seen rifle fire that had not the
slightest effect on a wildcat —for the
very good reason that the shooting was
wilder than the cat.”
The Duke made a gesture as if waiv
ing all respnosibllity.
“I am sorry for you, Mr. Warren.
You will find the ghost more real than
the treasure.”
“But the treasure Is real. Carlos!” ex
claimed the Princess, with spirit.
“Would I have crossed the ocean for
this locket unless I knew? Why, with
this paer s total stranger, anybody who
had never seen the castle, could walk
right up to the place and point out the
very stone that hides it!”
For the barest fraction of a second
the glances of the two men crossed like
foils.
“Pretty dangerous sort of paper to
have around,” observed Jarvis, slowly.
“Look out that somebody doesn't get
there ahead of you.”
“Yes. it is a dangerous paper,” chim
ed in the Duke in the same time, “if
it leads any one into the castle.”
The young man laughed, silently and
naturally.
“Will, Your Excellency, I’d go a long
way for the fun of unraveling a good
mystery with a little spice of danger
thrown in.”
Dangerous Ground.
The Duke nodded as if he understood
and sympathized with the feeling. Then,
as if something had just occurred to
him, he remarked:
“You needn’t have gone so far, Mr.
Warren. You are leaving a very un
usual case behind you In New York.
I suppose you read the papers on your
way to the boat?”
The young man’s lips twitched and
he glanced at the trunk.
“Why, no. I was so wrapped up in
my baggage I really didn’t have a
chance.”
He glanced slyly at the Princess, who
immediately discovered something of in
terest out of a porthole.
“This will interest you, too, cousin,”
remarked the Duke, picking up a news
paper he had dropped when he first pre
sented himself to his kinswoman. “You
were at the Vanderllp last night, I be
lieve.” He opened the paper, found
the Item he had In mind and read aloud:
“ ’Pistol duel in Vanderllp Hotel —
Guests awake in panic to find prominent
Kentuckian dangerously wounded by un
known assailant—Mysterious escape.—
Colonel James Markham, a prominent
and wealthy Kentuckian, nearly met his
death at 5 o'clock this morning in a
pistol duel in his room at the Vanderllp
Hotel.' ‘At a late hour the police had
no clew to the Identity of his assailant
except the remarkable fact that he is
still hiding somewhere in the hotel.’ ”
“He's probably a long way from the
hotel by now,” interrupted Jarvis with
a smile.
“They say he couldn’t have gotten
out without being seen.”
Jarvis shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s the theory of the police or the
reporters.”
“What do you think?” demanded the
Duke.
“Oh, he might have escaped In a thous
and ways. But that’s hardly in my line
That work belongs to what we call the
’gum-shoes.’ ”
“ ‘Gum-shoes!’ ” echoed the Duke,
with amazement.
“Yes. ordinary detectives,” Jarvis ex
plained. “But,” he added, turning to
, the Princess, “we are keeping you from
getting settled. I’m afraid. So, if you
will excuse me, 1 will see you both at
dinner, perhaps.”
“Yes, do/’ invited the Princess, gra
ciously. “And, Carlos, do arrange tv
sit with us. We will have quite a
party.”
The Police.
Jarvis bowed to the Duke. “I am
pleased to have made your acquaint
ance. Your Excellency.”
“Thank you, Mr. Warren. I find you
i most Interesting I shall be glad to
hear more of—of your remarkable pro
fession.”
There was just the faintest echo of
i a sneer in this last, but the young man ’
bowe as if complimented, and had
just turned to the door, when there was
a sharp knock. He drew back and the
Princess quickly opened it.
With no greeting, bow or apology, two
men thrust themselves Into the state
room. Jarvis recognized them at once
and set his shoulders for the final com
. bat.
By this you are not to suppose that
. he was personally acquainted with the
, men themselves—his familiarity w’as
with th© type. In all the world-wide
phantasmagoria of races and classes
there is none that can be so readily .
recognized and classified as the New i
( York detective. With the present erase 1
for uniformed bellboys, pages, milliners' I
attendants, door tenders, errand boys r
and governors it is quite possible to con- 1
, fuse the uniformed policeman with some 1
I of these. But when he is sent out in
( plain clothes there is no mistaking him. i
When you have seen one of them you f
can recognize any one of them to the t
extreme range of your vision. There is t
> a combination of a certain physical i
solidity manifest In their carriage and I
. mental stolidity evidenced In their faces
that can be found nowhere else. <
This pair were typical—thick-chested, I
thick-handed, thick-headed, with round >
, moon-like faces. 1
On the Rack. ' t
One stepped just inside the door and <
’ a little to one side of it as If on guard. 1
. The other advanced a step farther. He F
had evidently been decided on as spokes- I
man. He glanced at the two men and I
then addressed the Princess, consulting 1
a tiny note-book as he spoke.
* "Is this Miss M. T. Ar-r-agan?” he 1
* inquired in a rich, “far-down” brogue. '
1 overlaid with the indescribable Manhat-
tanese accent. 1
r “Yes,” replied the Princess, uncer-
J talnly, and evidently puzzled by the mid- !
den and unexplained intrusion. Jarvis
remained in the background and thrust
his wounded hand Into his overcoat
pocket. The Duke’s little mustache be
gan to bristle and he stepped forward. 3
“You were at the Vanderllp Hotel last
1 night?” pursued Detective Driscoll, ig
norlng the Duke.
“Y’e-es.”
“The lock on your door was broken?” 4
“Yes.”
“i am from headquarters, ma'am,” ’
explained the detective, having gotten ’
these "damaging admissions.” “And I (
, have orders to clear up one or two lit
tle matters connected with that affair
i at the hotel last night.” >
The exalted cousin could no longer re- e
( strain himself.
“Orders, orders!" he burst out. “To
break in here! What headquarters?” f
Detective Driscoll stared at him in
open-eyed insolence. Jarvis smiled dis- c
creetly behind his hand. f
“Police Headquarters!” bellowed the
detective so loudly that every one start
ed. His colleague at the door smiled a
wearily. c
, “Do you know whom you are address
ing?" spluttered the grandee angrily. f
Detective Driscoll rylled toward him,
pushed out about five cubic Inches of '
r chin and snarled: a
“That'll be about all from you!” a
resentative Kimbrough, of Harris Coun- f
a snap. Driscoll returned to the Duke
quietly, “let me attend to this matter. r
Won’t you come In, gentlemen?”
I “Thanks,” said Detective Driscoll, '
easily, nodding to his partner to close
j the door and giving the Duke a final ‘ 1
glare as if daring him to say another 1
word. *
“Yes,” Jarvis’ pleasant voice added Its *
. soothing influence, "we were just talk- J
* ing about the mystery.” *
The Duke, feeling that he would only £
I risk a loss of dignity by quarreling with , 1
a foreign police officer, took the cue and ' 3
i held out the olive branch with a patron- j r
i izing air.
“You are, I take It,” he remarked to I 1
Driscoll as the sleuth was peering Intq r
> his little book, “one of the—er 'gum I 1
. shoes.’ ”
Jarvis snickered, the book shut with ! 5
’ a snap. Driscoll returned to the duke 1 '
and thrust a menacing face Into his. ' 1
"Gum flhoes!” he snarled. “Say. are ; j
i you tryin’ to be funny?”
. The Duke startled, drew back a step, i
I i “Well, sir,” he replied half apoFo- ! ’
: * getically,’ you are speaking rather loud- • t
ly, and. If I (nay say so, with undue as- ! (
t pcrity. I presume 1 haA'e offended you.” j
“ ‘You presume!’ ” answered Driscoll. |
- "That's a hot one! Say—who are you, *
t any way?”
n The exalted cousin drew himself up ‘
i and gave one end of his mustache
j upward twist.
I “I am Hernando, Duke d'Alva,” he re- • -
t plied pompously. "I have other titles.
. but they would hardly interest you.”
The detective looked him over from
head to foot and licked his lips hun
. grily. i
“Dook de Alvers—and then some, ch? I
1 Ain't that nice! Well, if you was the I
Archbishop nf Canterbury I'd run yer in 1
i and take yer ashore If yer gimme any
more sass!” Fascinated by a savage
glare the Duke declined to give him 4
any more “sass.” and the detective j
» turned to the Princess, but still eyed ]
the exalted cousin, as If longing for an i
excuse to “run him in.”
I
To Be Continue*
i HINTS TO CLIMBERS
XG ( [.JRjltrii j
/AWlßfwr- - ■=-- w Ww®
Invent (if possible) a sillier and more undignified dance than has ever been seen before.
O'rvm L&ndvn Punch,)
Spoiled by Success
PRECISELY as the clocks In the
vicinity of Dowman Square an
nounced the hour of midnight,
John Maine's pen ceasc-d suddenly in
its rapid flight across the paper be
fore him. For a time he sat motionless,
his forehead wrinkled In perplexity.
Twice he attempted to resume his work,
but each time stopped short in the ef
fort.
For five long hours he had worked
with feverish mental energy and the
first time hfs pen refused to become
the vehicle of his thoughts the physical
strength of the man gave out, then,
as a gift from the gods, came the bless
ing of sleep to the jaded worker.
Dimly, vaguely, John Maine became
conscious of the fact that his arms wore
bound and useless at his side. His legs
were cramped In an unnatural position;
he endeavored to move his head, and
discovered, with a painful shock, that
his neck was securely held by a tight
collar attached to the back of his chair. I
With startled eyes he glanced round
swiftly In the little circle his bonds al
lowed and saw nothing Then, as the
perspiration oprued from him 1n his
fear, he knew that from somewhere in
the room a voice was speaking, slowly,
monotonously, but its every word ar
ticulated with striking distinctness.
“Don't waste your energy',” came In
a sibilant whisper. “You have nothing
to fear but the truth. Compose your
self.
“I am here to talk,” began the voice,
“and you to listen.”
“So It seems,” said Maine briefly.
“Tell me,” he urged quietly, “who are
you?”
“Ten years ago. John Maine,” the un- i
known said, completely’ Ignoring the i
other's question, "you wore a poor man i
struggling to achieve distinction. To
day you are an acknowledged power in f
the literary world; but has your path s
upward been a clean, praiseworthy t
path?” t>
Congratulations.
The man in the chair stirred uneasily; i
his eyes sought the one remaining flick
er in the fire.
“I suppose,” he mused, addressing the
tiny, cheerless flame as one in a rev
erie, “I suppose you're a kind of spectre 1
of the past, eh? You’ve a remarkably *
fine idea of stage management,” he
added, with assumed lightness. “As one
artist to another, I congratulate you
on your sense of the dramatic."
“You fool! You unspeakable fool!”
hissed the voice venomously in his ear.
"As you can not tell yourself, suppose
I show you what manner of man you
are. Take your mind back ten years
and tell me what happened then. You
can’t?”
"I was married ten years ago," Maine
replied, hastily
“So you were married ten years ago.
were you?”
“As an unknown man,” the voice con
tinued evenly, “without a penny to
bless yourself, you married the sweet
est Tittle girl In Christendom. She left
her parents, she abandoned all to make
a mesalliance with you; she shared your
garret, she helped you with your work
and her altered condition in
life with a fortitude which only threw
your quibbling nature Into more heinous
relief. Slowly, gradually, as you mount
ed the ladder to success, all the mag- |
niflqent resolutions of your early mar
ried life faded into insignificance. You
lived only for your work. You became
a supreme artist. And you, for whom
she had forsaken everything, forgot the I
very existence of the woman whose
heart was still yours. ’
A Son.
“Five years ago.” continued the voice,
"a son was bom to you, and for a
time you forgot you wore a man of
letters. But you soon slipped away '
when your clubs called you, when the '
public fawned on you; and your wife
broken-hearted and neglected, fled from
your home. Did you realize then”—the i
words came in a thundering torrent
now—“the revolting act of savagery |
Every Woman
Jr \ Is interested and should
' know about the wonderful i
Askyonrdruggtstfor
it. If he cannot sup
ply the MARVEL.
accept no other, but Ay jßff gk I
send stamp for book. J i
Marvel C«., 44 L 23d St.. M.f,
I
which cast your wife adrift without the
child she loved so dearly?"
"Good heavens!” exclaimed Maine
fearfully. “Are you—“
“listen!” came the im|>erious com
mand. "She wanted your love, and
you had burled it In your success. But,
strangely as It sounds, you still loved
the child that is sleeping In this house.
Do you think that the boy hits not
missed his mother more than you have
missed your wife? John Maine, in the
grate before you are ashes, cold and
gray. They are your portion in life,
for that boy of yours, his heart yearn
rig for the tender love you can not
•xlve, is even now slipping Into the
void
“Enough!” screamed the wretched
man. “You lie—you know you lie!”
He moistened his lipH with his tongue.
‘ Who are you?” he asked, with sudden
humility.
"I urn your better self,” came sadly,
morosely from a long way off, and John
Maine sat up on the words to And him
self blinking terrified in the small arc
light from a policeman’s lantern.
“Beg pardon, sir,” whispered the
policeman, quickly covering the light;
“but I guessed you would be In here at
work as usual, and, and ”
His Wife.
“I’ve been asleep, constable.” Maine
interposed slowly, and the words con
veyed a subtle relief to his aching
heart at once. “But how on earth did
you get In?” he asked, suddenly real
izing that the presem e of a policeman
In his house in the early hours of the
morning was something to be ex
plained.
“Softly, sir,” counseled the other. "I
saw a woman creep through a window
at. the back, and followed her. I've
been on this beat for a g<Kwl many years,
sir, and I fancied I knew who she was.
I thought perhaps you might like”
Maine was standing up now. alert and
brisk
"is she still In the house?” he asked.
The constable nodded.
"She crept upstairs, sir,” he said
simply.
But John Maine waited for no more.
With his heart pounding at his ribs,
ha sprang out of the room and leaped
swiftly up the stairs.
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The Leading Resort House of the World I
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——W——— ■■ 11 i■ ■ wu. - ■—< Ila .. T , _ f-- —milul. __
W Opportunity
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!< -;3' i»veator». bm of idea, ud iihaUt, ability. »hoold writs to- ■ -ir J
I 13) (or OMr l»t «f MvaaCoiu needed, and pnxee ofered by lentbny ’ H
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K S Attaraegn, \|
!if 618 Street ’ N - w * i
H rtaScßur wabhisoton, d. a
The policeman followed him slowly...
Maine had reached the landing which
led to the boy’s room, when he heard
a door in front of him open. He
switched on the electric light, and there,
panting fearfully In the sudden blaze,
leaning against the wall, was the thin
and emacited figure of a woman.
Her clothes were In rags and afters;
in her arms she clutched a sleeping
child to her breast.
They stood thus, silently regarding
each other, until the sound of a dis
creet cough w'axned Maine of the
presence of the constable. With hand*
i hat shook perceptibly, and eyes in
which there lurked a strange moistness,
John Maine turned swiftly on the land
ing.
i "You’re a good fellow,” he said quiet
ly. "It is as you surmised. My wife”
he waved his hand courteously to the
i wretched woman In front of him—“has
returned home unexpectedly. You can
. let yourself out.”
1 They waited until the man had passed
through the house and they could hear
: hIR retreating footsteps die away in the
distance. Then:
"Malsie,” said Maine, gently, “you
• have come home to me?”
1 The woman tottered where she stood,
one arm went out. before her, sweetly,
pathetically, and John Maine sprang
to her side in an instant.
b!
“Maisie, my love!” he cried, the tears
f coursing down his cheeks with the
] weakness of a strong man who Is sud
denly robbed of his calm, “thank God,
) I know my better self!”
Jealousy.
The teacher was addressing his pu
pils on the subject of laziness and
i idleness.
He drew a terrible picture of the
habitual loafer—the man who dis
likes work and who begs for all he
gets.
"Now, John,” said the teacher to a
little boy who had been very inat
tentive (luring the lesson.
John was instantly on the alert.
“Tel! me.” continued the teacher,
“who Is the miserable individual who
gets clothes, food and lodging and yet
does nothing in return?”
John’s face brightened.
“I‘lqase, sir,” said he, “the baby.”