Newspaper Page Text
T
T it r? T T1YT\TT?T GREATEST story of its
1 1 1 i v 1 U 1M IN rl/JU KIND SINCE JULES VERNE
(From Oermaii nf Tt.-mbard KeMen^ann—
tier* an ■ rrejnn <*npyr; fc h'e<1. 1M1H. by A.
Fisobar Verlag. Berlin mig.iah translation and
touii Mat • n t/>
(Copyrighted. IBIS, by International .News .icnifi.l
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“Is it?” retc: ed Allan, grim’.v. J
“Well, you tell them that they’ll go to '
work in three days or clear out of
here. See if that get ’em!”
Opposition.
This ultimatum d : d not have ex
actly the effect that Allan had hoped.
The Immei at< result was a serl s if;
monster mass meetings on the great;
dumping plain by the sea. where j
speakers addressed crowds of from'
fifty to a hundr J thousand from i I
score of wagons and in a score f
tongues. This gave Ai.an an iue*i.i
He cynically bribed half a dozen >f!
the influential leaders and sent them ,
out to make speeches a'«o.
These last worked consc!eutioucly—j
the word is used wit ’ju’ irony—to i
earn their money. They pointed out i
the magni'cent hospitals where the
injured were cared for free C chafge
" hile their pay went on just as if I
they were working their eight hours '
daily under the sea.
They bade the workmen cons'der.
the r sanitary dwellings wh re they
lived r nt free aru’ comrare their >ot
with that of other workmen. They
dwelt on the fact that up until this
unforeseeable disaster few men had
been killed in comparison with other
industries where the work was sup
posed to be much safe-'
And flnallv, “The winter is coming
on,” they cried. “Here it 1® October!
and if we do not go back to work
here, where will we work? Two hun- ,
dred thousand men will be suddenly
dumped into the market for labor.
We will have to take jobs away from
other men at lower wages. We will
get less pay and worse treatment.
How many of you can earn $5 in eight
hours anywhere else?”
For a time these arguments seemed
to be making headway, but only for
a short time. The opposing orators 1
were silenced. Their slogan was that .
“nr'le and a half of coffins” that had !
come out of the tunnel Their vocal
chords, too. were strengthened with
a golden tonic. The Shipping Trust,
not daring to fight in the open,
spared no money or effort to cripple
the tunnel enterprise in the dark.
“They tell you that onlv five thou
sand men have been killed since the
tunnel work began years ago,”
shouted one. “Yex but what of th r
twenty thousand that break down
every year and are turned adrift in
the streets or die In th* j poorhouses!
No man can stand th’s hellish work!
It is better, my friends, to get less
pav and live to a decent old age.”
Allan Speaks.
Allan himself was indefatigable. H j
worked with a feverish energy as if
he felt that only by overworking his
mind and body could ho shut out the
voice of Grief—the thought of the
ashes of his wife and child in tho
New York vault and Rives in the hos
pital. And as he worked and fought
slowly there came back to him the
old belief in himself and in h's
m : ghty project. And one afternoon
he went out to address the stripers
himself.
For twenty-four hours the even!
had been advertised and the great
level plain was packed with thou*
sands and thousands. Allan, mounted
upon the seat of an auto-truck, spoke
through a megaphone and his words
were repeated bv other speakers with
megaphones 510 that all could hear.
When the big truck slowly pushed
its way through to the appointed spot.
Allan on the seat with the driver, h
was received { n dead silence. He did
not yet realize what the ‘American
who had spoken in the conference un
derstood perfectly—that argument*
could not possibly be of any avail, for
the ears of the workmen were shut
with terror—a deep gripping horror
of a death by Arc and smoke shock in
that rathole under the waters. But
they heard him in silence.
He talked for an hour and brought
up every power of simple reasoning
he could summon, and as he neared
the end it seemed for a time that the
delegate of the conference was wrong;
for he could feel that he was winning
them.
“It is true that this work has killed
several thousand men.” he shouted.
“You know me—everyone of you
knows me. You know that I have
been fair and generous—and you
know how terribly this disaster has
struck at me. But, work, my friends,
is killing hundreds of men every day
in every quarter of the world. Work
Is killing ten men an hour In New
York City to-day—but no one In New
York thinks of quitting work on that
acount. The sea kills twenty thous
and human being a year, but no one
quits the sea on that account; the
work on the sea goes on just the
same.
“You have lost friends, relatives, in
this acldent. So have I, but I shall
not quit because of that. You have
boon told that you are working for a
syndicate—to make a few rich men
rlc h(. r —but I tell you, my friends,
that no little handful of capitalists
ran ever own th ! s tunnel. These men
are working for you. When this tun:
nr! is finished the people of the old
and new worlds will own it. That is
ps certain as the sunrise. It will b -
comp yours as naturally and surelv
as the air you breathe. No handful
( ,f men can hold you back from that.
Terror Rules.
1 on are told that I am working
.because it is making me rich That
■g not true. I was rich enough for
one man before the fir ‘ spade %was
driven into the gro^d where we
a<and. We who are building this
iur.ne!—-■von and I—are building fo.
r ur children and our children’s chll-
dr« n. Kv rv man who lives up his 1 fo
for this work is a saint In the reli
gion of labor, which is the religion of
our time.
"Any man who turns back now is
a coward and cowards are not need
ed here. But I cal 1 on vou as brave
•men. men who are big enoutrh and
brave enough to work for a big and
brave thing, to com*- back with m-
and conquer the earth.”
He ceased and lowered the mega
phone to show, that ho had finished
There was an instant’s silence and
thm a rlpnllnar. ragged cheer that
swelled louder and louder and sud
denly stopped, as if a hand had been
.pressed against every mouth. It was
the hand of terror, the terror they
had for a few moments forgotten.
That night there was another big
meetirer and the next day the leaders
told Allan that the men would not
return to work. He gave orders that
all strikers should vacate their
houses within forty-eight hours.
WHAT HAS CONE BEFORE
The story opens with Rives, who ’s in charge of the technical work
ings of the great tunnel from Airier.ea to Germany, on one of the tunnel
trains, with Baermann. an engineer, in charge of Main Station No. 4 They
are traveling at the rate of 118 miles an hour. Rives is in love with
Mai\de Allan, wife of Maokendrick Allan, whose mind first conceived the
g’ent tunnel scheme. After going about 250 miles under the Atlantic Ocean
Rives gets out of the tra'n Suddenly the tunnel seems to burst There
is a frightful explosion Men are flung to death and Rives is badly wounded.
He staggers through the b.inding smoke, realizing that about 3.000 men
have probably perished. He and other survivors get tc Station No. 4.
Rives finds Baermann holding at bay a wild mob of frantic men who want
to climb on a woik train, somebody shoots Baermann, and the train elides out.
The scene is then changed to the roof of the Hotel Atlantic The greatest
financiers of the country are gathered there at a summons from C H.
Lloyd, “The Money King" John Rives addresses them, and introduces Al
lan. Mrs Allan and Maude Lloyd, daughter of the flnane'er. are also pres
ent. Allan tells the company of his project for a tunnel 3 100 miles long.
The financiers agree to back him. Allan and Rives want him to take charge
of the actual work. Rives accepts. Rives goes to the Park Club to meet Wit-
tersteiner. a financier. At Columbus Ci-cle news of the great project is be ng
flashed °n a screen Thousands are witching it. Mrs. Allan becomes a lonely
and neglected woman and Ih much thrown In the company of Rives. Sydney
Wolf, the money power of two continents, plots against Allan and Rives. Mis.
Allan haa her suspicions aroused as to t'e friendsship between her husband
and Ethel Lloyd. Rives and Mrs. Allan let the wine <>f love get to their
l eads and, before they know it, they confess their love for each other. Tun
nel City's inhabitants learn something has gone wrong in the lower workings
of the great bore An exp'osion and fire have occurred !n the tunnel, and
when the workers hear of it definitely they become a tag'ng mob. surging
about the entrance of the bore M**s. A ban i*« wa^od nr* to i»ave her home
while the evc'lemr pt is a* it® he'ght. But she and her child go forth. They
meet a mob of women, frenzied by t l e disaster, who stone them to death.
R'ves was missing in the tunnel and A lan, h's wife, child, dearest friend and
5,000 other lives gone, gave in despai- But he resolves to conquer not be
subdued, by the great project. Gathering a relief train together he hurries
into the tunnel. Near the end he co -es to a pile of dead bodies. He
firally rescues Rives nearly dead. Af er the disaster the tunnel workers, in
terror, strike and the great project Is stopped.
Now Go Cn W th the Story.
The tunnel was empty. Tunnel
City silent and lifeless. Only here
nnd there along the streets a soldier
stood, leaning on his rifle.
* ♦ * *
Under pressure of certain prom
inent and humane men and women
Allan amended his original lock-out
order to the effect that all married
men would be allowed a longer time
'in which to make up their minds, and
that In the meantime their families
would be undisturbed in their present
quarters. But all single men. those
that had lived for years in the im
mense barracks erected for them,
were ordered to vacate at once, and
The exodus began.
Gu’ded bv its leaders, the great
army of strikers marched into New
York City to hold a gigantic demon
stration. Even the men allowed a
longer period of grace by virtue of
their family responsibilities Joined.
For two days Tunnel City was a city
of the dead, and all of one day the
thousands of strikers paraded the
streets of the great eity bearing ban
ners that blazoned to the world their
opinions of Allan and all the masters
of the tunnel.
Allan and I.loyd were hung In ef- >
flgy. a movable gallows being carted
around for the purpose so that the
execution might take place whenever
♦ he sp’rit moved- them. The streets
rang with “The Mars^llaise,” but
there was no violence. They were not
welcome in New York, but they had
shrewdly planned one exhibit that
won the sympathy of thousands and
started a perfect shower of money to
the war chest of the str’ke.
This was a delegation marching
four abreast and nearlv a half mile
long. The leader carried a banner,
which bore the inscription, “Mac’s
Grinples.” Every man who marched
behind that banner was maimed in
such a manner that the spectators
could not but see it. Some had lost
both arms, some a leg. some an arm
and others an arm and a leg. Some
were without an eye and ear and hair
only on one side of the head. More
than a few were totally blind and
were led along by their comrades.
It ’s a singular fact that the first
contribution for these was $10.00r>
from Ethel Lloyd, who also later m
took pains to see that all of them
were provided for in public or or!vate
institutions. When the procession
marched past the Syndicate building
there was much swear’ng and gen
eral uproar, but the demonstration
went no further, and by the next
morning the city was quiet. Thou
sands of the strikers returned ’o
Tunnel City temporarilv then scat
tered in search of work. But the
strike was successful in so far as 1.
absolutely naralvzed the tunnel work.
Then Allan took counsel with his
erurineers and with Sidney Wolf, who
will be remembered as financial di
rector of the syndicate. The denosit
of submarium was found to be 30 feet
deep in the thinnest place of the gre.it
submarine chamber which the explo
sion had opened. Since actual tunnel
work was temporarily impossible. Al
lan nronosed that this invaluable
treasure be ruined and marketed pend
ing the breaking of the strike.
“But how can we mine it if you
have no laborers?” objected Wolf.
“The Pittsburg people will snap at
a profit-sharing offer,” returned Al
lan “Make them a proposition to
m’ne and split the profits with us.”
Allan was right, but Wolf was too
shrewd to offer to split even. He
demanded fid per cent, and declared
he could take no less, thus allowing
them two weeks in which to heat him
down to 52 1-2 per cent. The mineral
rorunanv came In with its own labor
and began working three shifts, which
Allan insisted on. as he believed that
the strike could not last more than a
month or two, nnd he wanted the
submarium and its miners out of the
wav.
Thus, wh’le the tunnel was idle,
other hands were cleaning out a
threo-thound- foot chamber for the
engineers to use In a thousand val
uable wavs In the permanent con
struction and at the same time the
tunnel was making monev at the
rate of thousands a day Instead of
j eating up that much.
I Tn the same wav a rich vein of
potassium and another of Iron ore
that had been tanned in the Biscavnn
boring wer% worked for an enor
mous profit and Allan leased water
power right and left.
“Tf we had to have a strike, it’s
just ns well that we are able to make
it nav.” he remarked, phi’osoohioallv;
nnd -et himself to work on the plana
for utilizing the great chamber.
It wa* well 1n more senses than
one. for the financial condition of the
sy ndicate was bv no means satis
factory, though far from alarming.
'Pbn- HA planned the s^on-* W<r
stock issue for January of that year,
but with a strike on th ; s was im-
no*«'.ible. Gonseouentlv their cash
balpnce was running a little low and
the profits of these ventures gave it
i more healthful appearance.
B?ck Again.
Then one dav an abrupt change
came over Allan
Denied the nep?nthe of tremendous
work, his private grief swept back
upon him A visit to Rives in the
hospital did it. For two da vs after
ward he moped around his office and
did nothing. Then he suddenly an
nounced that he was goinsr to Eu
rope. He sailed next morning.
For month** he wandered over the
Continent. visiting the old hotel and
old scenes and old drives that he had
taken with Maud in their younger
days and all the while his grief rode
him like a nightmare. Occasionally a
business telegram that demanded
concentration for a day or two di
verted him and sometimes he got a
cheery letter from Ethel Lloyd that
warmed his heart. There was no
sign that the strike was breaking, ?*o
there was nb need for him to hurry
home, and with sorrow ever at his
elbow he wandered up and down Eu
rope.
As chance had brought on the
nightmare, so chance ende 1 it. One
day in the spring he was in Paris
and attracted by the placards outside,
which described the wonderful views
of the t mnel work, he went in and
took a seat. He watched for a half-
hour and felt the old call stir in his
blood. At last a film showed an
engineer directing the loading of a
train.
The engineer turned suddenly with
a little smile, as of surprise, and
looked f ill into Allan's face. It was
Eaermann!—Baermann who had diei
at his post the night that hell broke
into the tunnel. Of course, he had
merely turned and looked at the mov
ing picture machine, but to Allan it
seemed as If the young man had
looked at him and the surprise was
due to the fact that he had wandered
so fur from his duty.
That night he ordered a special
train in order to catch a liner frjm
Liverpool in the morn’ng. When he
stepped ashore in New York, he was
himself again; but before he even
called at his office he hastened to
Tunnel City to see bow Rives was
getting on. He found his friend at
his house, discharged from the hos
pital.
It was a chilly spr’ng day. but
Rives was sitting on the veranda in
immaculate summer attire. From the
shoulders down he was the same
Rives that had entered the tunnel
that terrible night less than a year
before. But his face was yellow and
old and his hair, which had come in
again, was snow-white.
An Ordeal.
By a tremendous effort Allan con
cealed the terrible shock h!s friend’!
appearance gave him; but he might
have spared himself the effort. Rives’
eye lit up faintly when Allan darted
up the steps, but he held out his hand
and greeted him as if he had seen
him the night before.
“Back again, Mac?” His voice was
faintly querulous, like an old man’s.
"Where have you been?”
Allan's throat was dry, but he con
trived to answer with some steadi
ness.
"Why, I ran over to Europe for a
short time. How are you feeling, old
man?"
Rives had been gazing out to sea
He turned his head for an instant
toward his questioner. His eyes had
a pained, puzzled expression as if he
were trying to remember something.
"Peel?" he echoed vaguely. And
then. "On, I’m fueling fine. My head’s
better.’’
Allan moistened his lips. “I’m glad
to hear it,” he said heartily. Rives
stared at him. Allan met his eyes
steadily and suddenly marked with
joy that the blank puzzled look was
leaving. Rives, as suddenly, got to
his feet and held out his hand as if
Allan had just at that moment ar
rived. His eyes were shining now
with a sane joy of welcome.
"My God, I'm glad to see you. Mac!”
he cried. “Come in—come on in the
house! Ah, don’t!" he begged, as If
he saw something in h's friend's face,
i “I know—the doctor has told me all
I about it. It isn’t permanent, old man.
I He says that I’m likely to get these
1 little lapses from time (o lime for a
I year or so. What will you have—
Scotch or rye?"
"A little Scotch—that’ll do—’nuff!"
Standing by the sideboard they drank
each other's health, and Allan tried co
make himself forget that look in
Rives’ eye. Every window was open
and he shivered slightly.
“There's a terrible draught here,
Jack,” he remarked.
Rives looked at him with a curious
smile.
“I like a draught.” he said slowly
Mnck quicklv turned his face away
and shuddered. He remembered that
life-giving wind that had swept
through the cross-gallery, where they
found Rives.
Sane and Insane.
The next instant he got another
terrible shock.
"How's Maud?" asked Rives, cas
ually. , .
"Maud!" gasped Allan—and then he
saw the look again.
“Yes. Was she with you tn Eu
rope?”
Allan opened his mouth twice to
say something anil closed it again.
Rives came over and quickly laid his
hand on his arm
"There It goes again," he said, apol
ogetically. “I’m a .vfully sorry. Mac,
old man. But it Just sort of seems as
if my memory s ips a cog every now
and then. I'm not fit to talk to peo
ple—but you understand, don’t you ?’’
"Yes," nodded Allan, avoiding his
eyes, "I understand."
“No, I don’t mean that way," said
Rives, gently, and Allan started un
der hi- hand. “I'm not really off my
nut, Mac, but it will take some time
for me to get all straightened out."
"I understand, old man—really I
do.”
To Be Continued To-morrow,
Animation, Right Thinking and Eating as Aid to
Natural Loveliness, Expertly Described by Mary Young
The Land of Liberty
By CARL ANDOVER.
HIS world is so full of a num
ber of things” that—accord
ing to Mary Young—we
ought not to set placidly by being “as
happy as kings,” but we ought to
start boldly campaigning for a wide
and general knowledge of the num-
ward the selfsame goal that she Is
indicating for you.
Now, Mary Young—late hard-work
ing and dearly beloved leading wom
an of the Castle Square Stock Com
pany in Boston, and present very nat
ural and very charming heroine of
her of things there are to know and
be. Almost any clever woman will
tell you that beauty is brains, or
charm; but not every clever woman
can Impress you with her personal
willingness to study and strive to-
“Believe Me, Xantippe,” at the Thirty
ninth Street Theater has never fear
ed work, effort and the constant rou
tine of study and rehearsal that
marks the career of the stock actress.
At present, with the unusually “sim
ple life" marked by but six evening
performances and two matinees a day.
Mary Young is studying languages in
order to improve every shining hour
to the utmost.
“A little personal pulchritude plus
a great deal of brains makes beauty
that counts—while a vast amount of
mere prettiness plus no cleverness, no
accomplishments and no animating
intelligence may make a pretty pic
ture, but it can never represent a
glorious woman who is a lasting de
light.
An Example.
“Last spring I attended a dinner
at w'hich one of our great prlma don
nas was present. On one side of her
sat a French diplomat and at her
other hand was an Italian nobleman.
First she would animatedly chat with
M’sleu—and then she would turn to
the Signor and talk to him with
charm and ease- Her animated clev
erness fairly illuminated her beauty.
Her brilliancy made her glowing, vital
and dazzingly lovely; while the less
clever women, even if of greater ac
tual beauty, faded and paled before
this woman with the gift of tongues
and keen interest and insight into
humanity and national characteris
tics.
“I am using two hours of every
morning to master French and Ger
man,” added Miss Young with a
whimsical smile. "Of course. I don’t
expect dazzling beauty to result—-but
1 do confidently expect to gain in hu
man insight through the ability to
converse with men of other nations
in their own languages—and I expect
a vast field of literature to open bo-
fore me.
“Parlor tricks arc a great asset to
the girl who would be charming—a
bit of recitation, an ability to play—
if not Grieg, at least the music of the
day—a gift of graceful dancing, or
the charm of a sweet singing voice.
“Oh. the world is full of a number of
things—and the girl who desires
beauty must make sure that she has
the setting for the jewel. If you are
too lazy to take advantage of all the
chances of Improvement that life of
fers, even If you have been dowered
with good features, you will deprive
them of animating soul and illum
inating expression.
“My rules for beauty would, if I
stopped to formulate and tabulate
them, be three-fold, I think. Improve*
your ndnd. cultivate your natural
gifts and discover a few unsuspected
talents to polish is the first. Then,
for rule two, BE SIMPLE AND
NATURAL. That means be well-bred,
too. For nothing less well-bred than
the present fad for artificiality, for
make-up unblushingly applied, and
for bold and daringly immodest cos
tumes could he conjured up in a welsh
rarebit dream. It is so hard to find
the real human likeableness of a
woman who is hidden behind several
layers of powder and paint. She looks
cheap and middle-class if no worse,
and so I feel that simplicity and nat
uralness are abl* lieutenants to Brains
in the army that goes with flying ban
ners to win Beauty.
Reserve Force.
“And the reserve force In woman’s
beauty-hunt i**: Preserve a youthful,
graceful, supple figure. Don’t let fat
accumulate. Fat is the white woman’s
burden. This is my method of lighting
it: For breakfast 1 have a cup of
black coffee and a piece of toast; for
lunch-—NOTHING; a fid dinner is a
fairly simple, sweetless meal. It took
me a year to learn to live a lunch-less
Ilf®, At first I used to <-,it a f*»v\
crackers to tide myself over the in
sistently hungry, aching void time,
but at last I have learned not to miss
the joys of lunching.
“Oh, everything worth while in all
this world of numberless things seems
to demand a struggle, but the meed
for your pains makes it all so ’worth
the struggle,’ doesn’t it?" concluded
Miss Young, with the dear little smile
that like her very evident mental
power illuminates her piquant, mobile
brunette charm into a very worth
while type of beauty.
L ILLIA V LA V FER TY.
gt^HE train rumbled comfortably on
I over the steppes; warm lights
“*■ from the carriages glowed in
passing reflection in the snow, and into
that frozen land, numbed to desolation
beneath the tyrannous thrall of winter
the train seemed to be a strange In
truder from other lands, bearing with
It the cause of splendid liberty.
“And yet,” said Peter Ivanovitch,
seated in the restaurant car, “I feel I
am coming to a land of freedom.
"How so?” demanded the Englishman.
"Is It the feeling I have,” replied his
companion.
“Freedom!” exclaimed the English
man. “Russia a land of freedom! Why,
man. Tt is absurd. I 00k at the trouble
we had in crosing tlie frontier—the end
less searchings and formalities, that aw
ful wait in the customs while they ex
amined our passports, and those poor
Poles herded together In that pen like
beasts. Oh, it all sickened me at the
very start.
“Then the hotels had to see our passes,
and do you remember that gang of poor
folk being swung along betwen those
soldiers? Did you ever see such poor,
lack luster creatures, hurried along
without knowing why, except because
they had been stung to some useless
protest? I’ll never P-^get the look on
their faces—of utter dull hopelessness,
And yet you call It a land of liberty.
Why, in the name of reason, why?”
"It is not my reason that feels It,”
said the Russian. "And yet ”
"No,” said his fellow traveler; “to
you perhaps Russia may seem free, be
cause you are coming home, and you
know all the conventions, and are look
ing forward to a famil'ar intimacy with
your own people.I '’hat, no doubt, is a
freedom; but it Is by no means a trait
of Russia as a country.”
His Obiection.
The Russian smiled reflectively, and
tapped on the table with his fingers.
“Of course, I speak without knowl
edge except from what I’ve read." con
tinued the Englishman “and there must
be a great deal in the land that makes
all my friends come Pack so continually
to Russia, but what I am afraid will
drive me furious is the lack of freedom
here. A friend of mine was kept in
Moscow for a whole week once for no
earthly reason while they worried over
his pass out from the country The
police are kept informed of every step
we take—isn’t it so?—and they do no
good with It all.
"Look at the political refugees. We
think in England that they must be
all frantic- Nihilists, and not merely
law-abiding citizens who merely offer a
theoretical opposition to the Govern
ment. It is all unheard of with us—this
tyranny of spying and super-spying
No, whatever it is, Russia Is not free."
The train, after miles on miles of
snow-crusted land, was passing through
a little straggling village. The moon
had risen over the white steppes, and in
the clear light the lines of homesteads,
all alike with the big gateway leading
into the yard beside the house, the tim
ber walls, the low thatch and the all
pervading, unutterable filth of dirt and
trodden snow*, showed up strongly
against the white surroundings. At
intervals on rising ground rose pure
white churches, with now golden, now
blue domes, seeming most callously aloof
among these mean surroundings.
The Russian Smiles.
“See there,’ said the Englishman in
the warm, well-lit car, “there’s tyranny
even here. Look at the squalor of
those homes, imagine the drink-sodden
men w’lthln them, and look at those
cold, white churches, that teach their
people, the flock of poor, simple sheep,
to pray for heaven and to live in hell.
The priests are worse than the police—
they tyrannize over men’s souls and
build churches with the money they ex
tort by the fear of everlasting punish
ment.”
But the Russian still drummed on the
table and smiled at some inner thought
he could not yet express.
Two men entering the car asked if
they might sit at their table, and fell
to chatting with them. The Russians
talked freely of their affairs, of their
destinations and their home life One
was going to serve his time in the army.
“But you,” he said, turning to the
Englishman, “you have no conscription,
have you?”
“No.” was the answer, “we say that
a willing soldier Is better than three
pressed men. Another point,” he add
ed to his companion; and he went on
to tell of the freedom of English lives
until the train at last slowed up In a
station
The passengers rose to stretch their
legs and breathe the chill fresh air.
A lady In rich furs was being helped
Into the carriage by a man servant,
who followed with her hags and wraps.
"Good-bye, Afanasie,” she said; "keep
well and see that all goes all right."
"Good-bye, Marie—a pleasant Jour
ney.” he replied, "and, remember the
stoves for the outhousea.”
“All right, good-bye," and the train
started at the third bell.
The Rurrian Chuckles.
The Russian was chuck’ing happily as
he went back to his compartment with
the Englishman.
“And therein.” he said, "lies Russia's
freedom. In England would you see one
so free, so easy with one’s servants?
No, you are afraid of them. It Is no
Joke. ’Before the servants,’ is a phrase
t have often heard. It is the great cau
tion of your lives. And it is not only
the servants you fear, but your neigh
bor. your acquaintance and your friend.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you have no freedom in your
homes and in your dally life. You are
always thinking. 'What will they say?’
Would men come to your table and
««neak as those men spoke to us? They
told us of their lives. It was a confi
dence they had in us because we also
are men. We Russians have our police
and our priests, it Is true but you have
them also in another form—In one form,
rather—the convention.
"Oh. the things I have seen In Eng
land, the sll’y little rules, even In the
family. You must sit—so, you must
eat—so, you must speak—so, you must
walk—so, you must think—so, you must
lead all your life—just so. and If you do
not. ‘people will talk.’ But we In Rus
sia can do as we like. We are free.
"One day, perhaps, we will govern
ourselves and our police will be our
helpers and not our tyrants, and we will
become civilized—Just so. * But I will be
dead then, thank God! Tell me, Is It
better to be free In one’s politics or in
one's home among one's friends? An
swer me that—not now, but when you go
home again and find yourself a slave."
Soapless.
The tramp looked shrewdly at Miss
Wary, and she returned his gaze with
equal shrewdness.
“You see, It’s like this, ma’am. Six
months ago I had a little home of my
own, but I made an unfortunate mar
riage. My wife's temper was such
that it kept me in hot water all the
time.”
“H’m,” said Miss Wary, dryly. “It’s
a pity there couldn’t have been & lit
tle soap with it.”
Bi
KODAKS
Th* Bset
tatara-
in# That Caa S* SraSaaaS.*
Kaatmaa Film* and can-
plct* atnel amateuf rappttaa.
_ lot for ruatoaiti*.
Sand for Catalog and Prieo List.
A. K. HAWKES CO. •Kggg
14 wmt«h«ll tt.. Atlanta, a,. i
Pennsylvania Lines
SNAP SHOTS
By LILLIAN LAUFERTY.
THERE IS NO UNBELIEF.
Whoever plants a seed beneath the
sod.
And waits to see it push away the
clod,
He trusts in God.
—BULWER LYTTON.
• • *
BETTER NOT.
Dear Miss Fairfax;
I am 17 years old, and am in
love with a boy 18 years of age. I
see him nearly every night. Al
though we don’t know each oth^r,
he always speaks to me (calling
me by my name). 1 have no girl
friends or gentlemen friends
whom I know who would give me
an introduction. I know he is
anxious to meet me. Every time
he speaks to me I feel like an
swering him back, but 1 never do.
Do you think it would be im
proper for me sneak to him,
as I am very anxious to get ac
quainted with him? E. D.
You are both so young that I think
you had better not. You do not *sav
where you see him, leaving the infer
ence that it is on the street, and that
is reason In itself why you should nor
include him among your friends with
no one to stand sponsor for him.
Wait, my dear. If he Is the right
one, the opportunity will be given you
for knowing him.
Tongue-Tied.
“He invented a ripping story to tell
his wife when he got home after mid
night.”
“Good one, was it?”
"A peach; it would satisfy any
woman.”
“Did it satisfy her?”
“It would ’ave, but he couldn’t tell
it.”
Funeral Designs and Flowers
FOR ALL OCCASIONS.
Atlanta Floral < ompany
455 EAST FAIR STREET.
3 To Women
Hrolien Down?
S Whe*h«r It’a from buainwia rarca,
m houaahoid drudgarjr or ov*-rfrequ«*nt
m chiUl-bearing-, you rer*d a KeiitArativa
ET Tonic and Streriffth-giviiitf Narvioa
ZZ and Regulator.
Dr. Pierce’s
Favorite Prescription
ZI la recommended as such, having been
* C
m \v..man's peeu luriy delicate and sense
» tive organization.
Your Druggist Will Supply You
INDIGESTION?
Stop it quickly; Have your grocer aend
you one doz. bottles of
SHIVA R
GINGER ALE
Drink with meals,
and if not prompt
ly relieved, get
your money back
at our expense,
i Wholesome. deli-
. clous, refreshing.
| Prenared with the
; celebrated Shivar
1 Mineral Water and
the purest flavoring materials.
SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturer®
SHELTON, S. C.
E. L. ADAMS CO.. Distributors, Atlanta
CHEAP EXCURSION TO
FLORIDA
Via G-. S. & F. Railway.
Fare from Macon to
Jacksonville $4.00, Palatka
$4.00, St. Augustine $4.50,
and Tampa $8.00. Propor
tionately low rates from in
termediate stations. Spe
cial trains leave Macon
10:20 a. m. and 11:30 a. m.
September 9. Tickets lim
ited five days.
C. B. RHODES, G. P. A.
Macon, Ga.
Chicago Daylight Exprew
Lvs. Cincinnati 9:15 a. m.
Ars. Chicago 5:45 p. m.
Chicago Expre**
Lvs. Cincinnati 9:20 p. m.
Ars. Chicago 7:10 a. m.
Chicago Midnight Express
Lvs. Cincinnati 11:45 p.m.
Ars. Chicago 7:45 a. m.
Pennsylvania
Service goes
far, means
much-makes
right the trip
by day or
night
C. R. CARLTON
Traveling Passenger Agent
ATLANTA. GEORGIA