Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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