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© ® The Manicure Lady © ®
By WILLIAM T. KTRy
WENT to some trotting races up
I to the county fair last week,”
-*■ said the Manicure Lady. "I had a
awful good time, George It didn’t
seem like going to them running races
where the betting ring is the whole
thing, and where a lot of foxy bodk-
makers used to take away the money
of a unrespecting public. The kind of
racing I seen was the cleanest I have
saw for a good many years.”
"I like the runners,” said the Head
"Barber. ’’There is more action every
way to a running race. And there Is the
chance to win a few dollars, kiddo.”
“Yes. and there is the chance to lose
a few dollars, too," said the Mani
cure Lady. ”1 am awful glad that kind
of racing ia stopped. I know that it
made an honest bookmaker or tout go
out and do some real work for a living,
but think of the blessing that the stop
ping of races was to thousands of fam
ilies. Think of all the heads of fami
lies that comes home now with their
week’s pay and hands it over to buy
shoes for the baby instead of losing it
the way they used to. I tell you, George,
you will never know how much misery
was caused by racing the way it was
ran the last few years it lasted in the
city ”
"There was a lot of money won, too,”
argued the Head Barber. “I remember
one time I had 12 on Sailor Boy, one
of Father Bill Daly's horses. I won
two hundred dollars, and gave the wife
half of It. The bettors didn’t always
lose, kiddo.”
“None of them ever won anything in
the long run," declared the Manicure
Lady. “Gambling money ain’t no good.
George. I know lots of men that makes
bets wins money, because somebody has
got to win the same as u lot has got
to lose. But the money that you win
gambling ain't thought of respectful by
you. You won It easy and easy It goes.
When a man works hard all day chop
ping wood for <2 he Is liable to look at
the 12 a long time before he buys a
pint of wine with it. But when he wins
12 on a horse or In a game of dice, the
first things he thinks of is wine and
women, and goodness knows that
much money won’t go far fn a swell
cafe except for a tip to the hat boy. No,
George, gambling ain’t lawful, and It
ain’t good no matter how you figure It!”
“You sure have got a awful moral
streak on this morning,” said the Head
Barber. “I never thought you would
get so sour on a little gambling. You
won four dollars from me last week
when I bet you on the Crackers, and
I notice you took It without giving me
no lecture on the evils of gambling.”
“I wasn’t speaking about the pleasure
of gambling and wlnniug,” said the
Manicure Lady. ”1 was thinking about
the awful misery that is caused when
folks loses their money. And I want
to tell you, George, I was sorry to take
that four dollars, because I was afraid
your wife might need it. I made up my
mind then that I would never gamble
again, George, unless you want to bet
four more on Mobile against Atlanta.
I’ll take the Crackers, so as to give you
a chance to get your money back.”
The Question of Winter and Spring
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
DEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
In the office where I am em
ployed I come In contact with
quite a few men, and one of them,
a widower, has asked me to mar
ry him. I am a young girl
eighteen years of age and have a
very nice home, good parents,
and belong to a nice, respectable
family. I know my parents would
not like me to marry this man,
as he is 45 years of age. I told
him that, and he wants me to
elope with him. Now, I think
if I did that the neighbors would
have a very bad opinion of me,
and then I know my mother and
father would worry about me if
I were to run away. When he
came in the office one day he
caught me talking to his son, who
is 23 years of age, and he was
furious and said I should marry
him at once.
He has plenty of money and
can give me everything I like, but
I do not love him—but like him.
I think, as he says, that after we
are married I shall learn to love
him. Do you think I will?
He is very good to me and says
he will always love me. He is
nice looking and dresses nicely.
He said I should tell my mother,
and If she says yes, why, then
we’ll have a church wedding, but
if not. that we will be married
anyhow, but not have a wedding.
Please, Miss Fairfax, what should
I do? SUE.
S O he is very good to you and says
that he will always love you—
little Sue—of the wistful heart?
Well, what do you suppose he would
be and what would you expect him to
say—w’hen he is trying to get you to
marry him, pray tell?
He certainly isn’t going to be bad
to you and tell you that he is only
going to love you while the honey
moon lasts, Is he?
At That Picnic.
Not if he’s really trying to get you
for a wife.
Deceitful—do I mean that he Is
that?
Not the least little hit in the world
do I mean that—but whisper—-the
MOTHER
SO POORLY
Could Hardly Care for Children.
Finds Health in Lydia E.
Pinkham’* Vegetable
Compound.
Bovina Center, N. Y.—"For six
5’ears I have not had a# good health
as I have now. 1
was very young
when my first
baby was bom
and my health
was very bad aft
er that. I was
not regular and
I had pains in my
back and waj so
poorly that I could
hardly take care
of my two chil
dren. I doctored
with several doc
tors, but got no
’better. They told me there wae no
help without an operation. I have
{used Lydia E. Plnkham’s Vegetable
[Compound and It has helped me won
derfully. I do most of my own work
(now and take care of my children. 1
recommend your remedies to all suf
fering women.”—MRS. WILLARD A.
GR> HAM. care of ELSWORTH
TUTTLE, Bovina Center, N. Y.
Lydia E. Plnkham’s Vegetable Com
pound, made from native root* and
herbs, contains no narcotics or harm
ful drugs, and to-day holds the record
of being the most successful remedy
we know for woman's ills. If you
ifieed such a medicine why don’t you
ftry it?
If you have the slightest doubt
[that Lydia E. Plnkham’s Vegetable
Compound will help you, write to
Lyflt E. Plnkham Medlolna Co. (con-
fldan^pl) Lynn, Mast., for advice.
*Your will be opened, road and
answerod by a woman* and haJd In
mtrloJL nmfirlnMN.
other day at the picnic do you re
member how very, very hungry you
were, and how you wished that the
chocolate cake had five layers instead
of three—when you saw old Aunt Su
san take it out of the basket?
The chicken looked so good, too—
didn’t it?—all nice and brown and
flaky, and, dear me, who made those
delicious little cakes, all sugar and
spice—that was before luncheon.
After luncheon you were thirsty—
awful thirsty, and you wouldn’t have
traded a good cold glass of lemonade
for all the chocolate cakes in the
world and ten dozen frosted cookies,
would you?
You weren’t deceitful about it at all,
were you—you were Just hungry—
before luncheon. That’s the way with
a nice, amiable looking man—some
times.
Before marriage he’s hungry—and
he talks like a hungry man; perhaps
after the honeymoon he may not quite
agree with his own opinion of you
Just now. Did you never stop to think
of that?
You’re 18 and he’s 45—a bad bal
ance in the bank of years. I’m
afraid. It w’ould be all right if you
loved the man, but you say you do
not.
And then that little affair of the
son—It looks as if the gentleman was
a bit disposed to be jealous—if he’s so
furious to see you talking to his own
son before you marry him what would
he be to see you talking to anybody’s
son on earth after you are married?
What sort of a girl are you, any
how? The time has gone by when
girls marry Just to be married—it
doesn’t pay any more-^lt never did
pay, for that matter. Only women
are Just beginning to find that out.
You are not In love with this man
—the only thing you can find to say
in his favor is that he has plenty of
money and can give you everything
you want—can he? Will he?
Is everything you want to be
bought at a shop, like a pound of
steak and paid for—like a doctors’
visit? I don’t believe it—I can't be
lieve it . f
Ought to Count.
Why, the very flay after you mar
ried this man you might meet the
one you could really love—what
then?
Sense—prudence—principle, oh, yes,
these things all ought to count—In
such a case—but are you sure they
would count—In your own particular
one?
Cleverer women than you have
thrown their lives away In just such
a bargain as this. Don't you do it
little Sun—dont’ you think of doing
Money and position and fine clothes
seem to count a whole lot more than
they do—old Mother Nature doesn't
listen to them one minute.
Wait till you fall in love. Sue, and
they marry—and be happy—If it’s
only for a month or so—be happy for
once — and laugh at the grim old
world. You’ve found the secret of
It all In that one month—after all.
Boost.
An Atlanta lawyer Is held respon
sible for this:
"Boost, and the world boosts with you.
Knock and you’re on the shelf,
For the world gets sick of the one
who’ll kick,
And wishes he'd kick himself.
“Boost when the sun is shining,
Boost when it starts to rain;
If you happen to fall, don’t lie there
and bawl,
But get up and boost again.
"Boost for your own advancement.
Boost for the things sublime,
For the chap that’s found on the top
most round
Is the booster every time."
In Baltimore.
Justice Mandanzehl's commitment of
Jim Roye, colored, to the house of cor
rection may be lacking In legal essen
tials. but his spelling Is not open to
criticism by those who admire pictur
esqueness and orlglnalty. When he com-
mtted Roye on the charge of "Passing
bad money Vargrence and hablteral des-
tervence of the peace and not lnsaen,"
he may have offended against the prin
ciples of law, but he performed a liter
ary feat that would have created envy
In the mind of Dogberry,
Won’t Stop.
Prattle (to his wife)—You don’t seem
to have the courage of your convictions.
Mrs. Prattle—I should like to know
how you come to that conclusion?
prattle—You say It’s no use talking,
an<t then you for hours.
A NEWPORT STYLE
Fully ^Described by Olivette
RL
A
ft '
The Newport
craze in bathing
suits Is for the
silt skirtgarment,
and if you see
some excuse for
the split skirt
of the hobble
type, where the
cut comes at the
Ankle in order to
enable the wearer
to walk, perhaps
you can also
figure out a cut
In a knee-length
skirt that the
wearer mayswim.
Here we picture
the prettiest
example of the
new fashion
freak we have
seen.
Black mohair
forms the
bloomers that are
banded in at the
knee andfastened
at the side with
round white
buttons.
The same materi
al is used for the
one-piece top
garment, which
is caught
around the waist
in a fashion
borrowed from
the bathrobe.
For this belt
and bow and
for the trimming
of the suit
hercules braid
two inches wide
is used, and
to outline neck,
sleeves and skirt
cut high at the
sides a half-inch
braid Is used.
Bands of this
narrow braid
hold the two
apron-like parts
of the skirt
together and
strap the sleeves,
which are cut
In a bishop's mitre
line to match
the skirt.
The home dress
maker may copy
this suit for
about two dollars.
THE TUNNEL
GREATEST STORY OF ITS
KIND SINCE JULES VERNE
fTVtrm 0«rm»i» of Bernturd K ©Hermann—»
Oerm«n varaion. Copyrighted. 1®18. Dy ».
Fincher Veil**. Berlin. English translation and
compilation by
1 Copyrighted, 1913, by International New* Serrioa)-
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
There was not a sound now but the
faint ticking of the valves on their
oxygen generators In the helmets. Al
lan groaned as he picked his way
over the field of the dead staring up
at him in the lantern light with hor
ribly distorted faces. These were the
vanguard of that awful army of de
spair that had staggered through the
smoking ruin with Hives.
Rives was not among them, but
suddenly out of the dense smoke a
man appeared and dropped at Allan’s
feet. He wore only a tattered pair of
trousers. Allan quickly flashed the
light in his face. It was not Rives.
With Lefevre’s help tney carried him.
still breathing feebly, back to the
train.
Two doctors took him in hand, and
in a few minutes they had brought
him to a consciousness of his sur
roundings. Under the further stimu
lus of a drink of brandy he was able
to talk a little. His first statement,
In broken English, which showed that
he was a French Canadian, was that
the Virgin had saved him. Lefevre
began questioning him, gently but
swiftly, in his own tongue.
He said that he had been uncon
scious at least once before. He had
been revived by a current of fresh air
blowing across his face. He had tried
to get out of the tunnel and found
that the smoke was too thick. He
was trying to work his way back to
the fresh air when they had found
him. He did not understand that In
the smoke he had turned completely
around again.
Allan mutfered an eager exclama
tion.
“That means that the ventilating
plant is making headway against the
smoke,” he cried. ‘‘There’s a chance
for some of the others! Ask him if he
heard anything of any others.”
“Yes,” replied the rescued, eagerly;
“I heard somebody laughing severa.
times.”
“What! Laughing?”'exclaimed Le
fevre.
“Yes.” was the solemn reply.
“Poor chap!” murmured Allan,
when this was translated. “It’s a
wonder he didn’t hear more than
that.”
Push on in Smoke.
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE
The story opens with Rives, who is in charge of the technical work
ings of the great tunnel from America 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 la in love with
Maude Allan, wife of Mackendrick Allan, whose mind first conceived the
great tunnel scheme. After going about 250 miles under the Atlantic Ocean
Hives gets out of the train. Suddenly the tunnel seems to burst. There
is a frightful explosion. Men are flung to death ami Hives Is badly wounded.
He staggers through the blinding smoke, realizing that about 3,000 men
have probably perished. He and other survivors get to Station No. 4
Rives finds Baermann holding at bay a wild mob of frantic* men who want
to climb on a work train. Homebody shoots Baermann, and the train slides out.
The scene Is then changed to the roof of the Hotel Atlantic. The greatest
financiers of the country are gather ml there at a summons from C. H.
IJoyd, “The Money King.” John Hives addresses them, and introduces Al
lan. Mrs Allan and Maude IJoyd, daughter of the financier, 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 Hives waul him to take charge
of the actual work. Hives accepts. Hives goes to the Park Club to meet Wit-
terstelner. a financier. At Columbus Circle- news of the great project is being
flashed on a screen. Thousands are watching it, Mrs Allan becomes a lonely
and neglected woman and Is much thrown In the company of Rives. Sydney
Wolf, the money power of two continents, plots against Allan and Rives. Mrs.
Allan has her suspicions aroused as to the friendsslilp between her husband
and Ethel IJoyd. Hives and Mrs. Allan let the wine of love get. to their
heads 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 explosion and fire have occurred in the tunnel, and
when the workers hear of It definitely they become a raging mob. surging
about the entrance of the bore. Mrs. Allan Is warned not to leave her home
while the excitement is at its height But she and her child go forth. They
meet a mob of women, frenzied by the disaster, who stone them to death.
Rives was missing in the tunnel and Allan, his wife, child, dearest friend and
5,000 other lives gone, gave In despair. But he resolves to conquor, not be
subdued, by the great project. Gathering a relief train together he hurries
into the tunnel. Near the end he comes to a pile of dead bodies.
Now Go On With the Story.
For late bathing days.
The Caged Bird
By LOUISE HEILGERS.
S Hl£ had never thought to own any
thing so beautiful.
For so long had her cage hung
empty on the wall that she had given
up all hope of ever finding a tenant
for it; and then, suddenly, one morn
ing, this beautiful bird had dashed
into her life, with plumage of scar
let and orange and green, and with
sapphires for eyes The sunlight upon
its feathers dazzled her. When it
poured out its heart in song it was
all the sunlight dancing upon the
earth. Never before had she been
so happy.
Color in Her Cheeks.
A little color crept into her pale
cheeks; she took pains over her hair,
she sewed lace frills on to the collar
and cuffs of her plain blue gown.
The young man over the way who
had at first taken little interest in
her began to think about her as quite
good looking.
It was, by the way, shortly after
the advent of the young man over the
way that the empty cage In the house
opposite had found its brilliant ten
ant.
But so simple was the little owner
that she never connected the rainbow
bird with the way the young man
from over the way looked at her, or
the way in which he held her hand,
nor yet the way in which (presently,
not Just at first, of course) he kissed
her. Love that has been properly in
troduced takes at learn a fortnight to
become thorougnly acquainted.
She not only dimly noted that it was
whenever they were together, she
and the young man over the way
that the bird teemed to sing the loud,
est. the notes thrilling from its throat
a« the golden fire flowers fall from the
But Lefevre was not wholly incline 1
to accept this explanation. He ques
tioned Renard—that is the man’s
name—ii detail and finally told Allan
that he was convinced that the Ca
nadian had heard huma*n voices.
‘‘Then let us go in, in God’s name!’’
cried Allan. “Volunteers from the
doctors!”
There was a unanimous response.
Allan chose the first two and with Le
fevre set out into the smoke again. It
was a terrible march, picking their
way along the corpse-strewn track
over blocked timbers and fragments
of rock. Someone was falling con
stantly, for the smoke was like a
heavy yellow wall against the glasses
of the helmets. Once, after a stum
ble, Allan felt a terrific pain shoot
from his right ankle up his leg, but
paid no heed.
Suddenly they were stopped dead
In their tracks. From somewhere
ahead of them out of the thick yel
low-black vapor came peal upon peal
of shrill, unearthlv laughter. For a
space no man breathed and one of
the doctors swiftly crossed himself.
As suddenly as It began it ended, and
to the four it seemed for a few mo
ments that no human lips could have
made the ghastlv sounds that echoed
and rattled up and down the smoke-
filled galleries
Then Allan began pushing swiftly
on and others stumbled after him as
if afraid to be left nlone. In another
minute or two they came upon a small
substation, and the terrible laughter
pealed forth again. Allan put his
shoulder to the door and pushed it 111
and entered, Lefevre and the doctors
at his heels.
A ventilating tube entered the sta
tion, and around the opening four
men were writhing and squirming
and occasionally from one of the
smitten came a shriek of the horrible
laughter that had startled them In
the gallery'. The whistling sound that
came to the ears of the rescuers told
them that the ventilating plant wun
working with increased power and
thl*» had kept the four alive. In the
station, so close that they bumped
Into it in their contortions, was an
oxygen generator, unused. A1 Ifour
were foreign laborers. When they
saw the smoke helmets of the rescue
party, they screamed with terror and
crouched in a far corner of the room.
One of the doctors managed to
make some sense out of tno gib
berish, and gathered that they be
lieved themselves in hell and had
taken the rescuers for demons. When
, , - . . . _ Allan and the others approached
cheap-colored prints from illurtrated t Bpran g at them In the madness
papers and a few faded portraltgot jof , Prrnr aTld f0 ught untll thPy wero
sky through rockets. And whenever
the bird sang, she forgot the four
white-washed walls (on which hung
the landlady’s relations) which
framed per life, and was transported
Mraightway into a tropical forest,
full of magic sights and sounds,
where of nights a big white moon
floated over feathery’ tree tops, and
where by days gorgeous butterflies
rested on flowers white as snow and
scented as are orange groves.
She forgot the lonely lot of the
unloved that had been hers for so
long. She remembered only her
lover's kises upon her lips.
This foolish love of ours. How it
spring-cleans this old gray world,
making it a garden of evergreens
where Adam and his mate may for
ever meet.
The young man over the way had
lived there for about six months when
he suddenly made up his mind to
move.
Girls Plentiful.
Girls are plentiful, and he had no
mind to tie himself legally to one;
besides, he had never cared much for
brown hair. And there was a dash
ing-looking blonde in the boarding
house where a friend of his lived. He
might as well go there for a time. H?
was tired of living in diggings any
way. besides Laura was beginning to
be a bit of a nuisance. Dash it, one
might almost think that she ex
pected him cu marry her.
« * •
It was just after he moved that th©
scarlet and orange and green bird
with aapp.iire eyes flew away.
She haa no knowledge that she had
left the cage door open the nitf.ht be
fore. But when she crept, wan faced,
to the wicker bars the next morning
the cage' was empty; the bir# <bad
flown away,
(
overpowered and bound. Allan gav*
in order and they were hurried back
to the train as swiftly as possible.
One was dead before that goal was
reached and none of the other
three ever recovered his reason.
Allan Collapses.
As he staggered into the car with
the last of the four, Allah collapsed
in the aisle. He had been thirty-six
hours' without sleep and under a
strain such as no man had ever
borne before. The doctors quickly’
revived him, but when he insisted
vhat he must push on again, In spite
tt their protests, one gray haired
physician persuaded him to take a
“stimulant and rest for a few min
utes.” Inside of a minute he had
passed Into a deep sleep that lasted
several hours.
Lefevre and two of the doctors
made two sorties in the meantime
and got past the station where the
crazy men had been found, but they'
were driven back by smoke.
When Allan woke he was under the
impression that he had not been
asleep, and no one disillusioned him.
He immediately donned his smoke hel
met, and with the indefatigable Le
fevre and a fresh doctor another at-
tempt was mads.
The smoke still moved . down on
them like a living foe, groping its
way along the walls, creeping through
cross-galleries, filling the stations,
silent, opaque, and resistless. But
the ventilator had been sucking it
out and forcing in millions of cubic
yards of fresh pure sir, and it seemed
to grow thinner, little by little, as
they advanced.
It was slow and terrible work,
i They climcd over and through I
d ripped up ties and 1
broken timbers. And the dead were
everywhere.
They were some two miles past the
little sub-station when Allan stopped
suddenly and held up his hand.
“Listen!” he exclaimed in a low
voice. “I think I hoard a call.”
The others stopped as they’ wer?
bidden. For more than a minute
..toned intently, but there was
no sound but the faint whirr of some
distant ventilator and the drip-drip
of water. ,
‘I’m sure I heard it,” insisted the
chief as I.efevre' shook his head. “I’ll
give a yell now and everybody listen.”
He hallooed up to the tunnel and
his voice died away in the distance.
Then faint, but clear, as a voice
sounds from far away over the water
at night, came an answering hall.
Found.
“By God, there’s someone up the
gallery!” exclaimed Lefevre and
plunged on. The three dashed ahead,
slipping and stumbling, and occasion
ally stopping to shout again. Nearly
always they heard the answering
shout and nearer each time. It was
close at hand, but they seemed unable
to get closer, and finally it began to
die away.
“We’ve gone past him!” cried Allan,
suddenly.
“But we couldn’t,” protested his
aide.
We must have,” Allan insisted. “I
know—he was in one of the cross
galleries! ”
They scrambled back through the
darkness and began searching the
cross galleries. At the second one
back they were greeted with a per
fect storm of fresh air. Into this they
turned, and halfway up they came
upon a strange spectacle.
A ventilator opened in the little
gallery, and against the wall was a
generator still pouring out oxygen.
By the side of it sat a bald-headed
old man. A few locks of white hair
still streamed from his bare, white
scalp. His face was yellowed and
seamed Into the dim lantern light. He
seemed terribly emaciated and with
ered, but he looked up with a smile
that showed remarkably young and
sound, white teeth. Lying with his
head in his lap was the body of a
gigantic negro, his blue lips drawn
back in a sardonic grin.
“I knew’ you’d come, old man,”
wheezed the withered one, reaching
up a hand as if for help to rise. “I
knew’ you’d come.”
And then Allan knew him.
“Rives—Rives!” he gasped, between
a shout and sob.
The next instant his arms were
around the pitiful bundle and he had
lifted it to its feet. The negro’s head
slid off and struck a fiat stone with h
hollow thump.
Rives, or w r hat had been Rives,
clung to Allan’s coat with one hand,
and with the other he pointed down,
while Allan held him close in a strong
grip.
“I’m all right, Mac, old man,” he
said, feebly, and smiled again. “But
that nigger—that nigger took a lot
out of me, and—he died after all. Too
had! ”
The Strike.
Rives lay between life and death
in the hospital, and for the first time
in years Allan himself was in direct
charge at Tunnel City. The work
of rescue was over, the bodies of
the dead had been recovered. The
last train had come out of the tun
nel. but the far gafieries were still
choked with debris; but in all the
great maelstrom of industry scarcely
a wheel stirred.
Allan and his staff of engineers
wrought like maniacs and strove by
example and heroic endurunce to stem
the tide that was setting In againf^t
them. It was vain. The armies of
toilers stood idle and numb and
looked on. They and their wives
stood in long rows on the terraced
descent, sullen and still. The great
lighting plants, the pumps and ven
tilator system were all operated by
engineers, who dropped by the ?=dde
of their work and slept In broken
naps.
Hordes of curiosity seekers from
New York and Philadelphia added to
the confusion and the difficulty of
the problem. Allan doubled the rail
road fare, but even this did not head
them off. For four weeks Allan and
his staff strove night and day, and
at last they began to make headway:
but still there was no sign from the
laborers. At last the final spark of
the fire had been quenched, the smoke
disappeared and the fragments of
the shattered driller were removed.
Then the heart of the explosion was
exposed. The theory that a pocket
of highly explosive gas had been dis
charged by a blast was proved cor
rect.
They found a chamber some hun
dred and fifty feet in depth, about a
thousand feet wide and more than
half a mile long. It was perfectly
dry, and Its sides, ceilings and floor
were composed of a new mineral
called “submarium,” of which they
had found traces in the boring. It
was light and crumbly.* not unlike
chalk, and had been discovered to
be rich in radium.
In Its length the chamber followed
roughly the line of the tune] and
meant a saving of a half-mile of
boring; but the work was at a stand
still.
More than that, the disaffection
spread to other tunnel cities, and at
the end of the first month after the
explosion the tunnel WOlk was com
pletely paralyzed.
The Conference.
Then Allan seriously bestirred him
self. He sent for the leaders of the
unions and held a conference with
them in the famous room at the ad
ministration building.
“What do you men want?” he de
manded.
Nobody seemed able to answer him
to the point.
“We never had a strike before,” he
went on, half angrily. “What’s the
matter now? You know, and most of
your men hnve sense enough to know,
that we didn’t try to kill their mates.
They know that they are getting
double and triple the pay of ordinary
labor, because they run this very risk
—and this is the first time the risk
has become a reality. The first time
—and the work is nearly half fin
ished!”
No one said anything for a moment,
and at last an American delegate
leaned forward in his chair.
’Til tell you what it is, Mac,” he
said slowly. ’ They’re scared.”
“Scared!” echoed the chief, con
temptuously. “There Is not one
chance In a million that anything like
this can happen again. It was the
one thing that we could not guard
against, and we never pretended that
we could. We can tell when we are
approaching known gases and other
known dangers. You men know that
we trapped a bigger gas pocket than
this before we came up to Main Sta
tion 3, but no one even got a whiff of
gas. Now what are the chances of
there being two such pockets of un
known gas in the path of the boring?”
The leaders looked at each other
and at the floor and shrugged their
shoulders.
“Well?” snapped Allan, impatiently
The American took up the reply
again,
“O’ course, we know’ what you say
is right, boss,” he said, “but it’s dif
ferent with a lot o’ the men. You
know it’s Just the idea of being
caught down there under the ocean
with no way out—that’s what gets
’em.”
Joy of a Bachelor
Son
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
T HEY were flustered and flurried,
and looked, in spite of their
wrinkled faces and gray hairs,
like so many little girls who had es
caped from their nurses, and had met
to make confessions of their griefs.
So great was the resemblance to lit
tle girls, it seemed incongruous when
one lifted a grandchild to her lap and
another adjusted her glasses and got
out her knitting.
“This,” said the one with the grand
child, “was brought to m£ last week.
My daughter sent four children to me
while she went on a trip. She said
they would keep me from getting lone
some.”
“I never have a moment’s quiet,”
said the weak voice of another old
woman. “I have four married daugh
ters and they are always sending their
children to me, sometimes six at a
time, to keep me from getting lone
some."
“It would be nice,” she added pa
thetically, “to have a chance to get
lonesome sometimes.”
There was a silence. All the little
old women were thinking of the
Susies, Billies, Johnnies and IJzzies
that were always being unloaded on
dear grandmother, giving her no chance
to rest.
A timid woman who felt that unless
they were careful they would show dis
loyalty to their daughters, tried to
change the subject by asking the oth
ers if they liked her dress. It was a
soft, delicate gray.
“I wanted one that color,” sputtered
another little woman who rocked vio
lently to express her indignation, “but
my daughter made me get black. She
said it would make over better for her
when I was gone.”
"I live with a bachelor son,” from the
little old woman in gTay, “and he lets
me do as I like.”
Old women do not cry. They have
learned the futility of tears. But they
sighed, and several who lived with
daughters paused in their knitting to
wipe the moisture from their glasses.
“When I take up a broom,’’ resumed
the woman who lives with a bachelor
son, “no one says ‘Don’t do that; you
are too old for such work!’ No one
screams to me to let the maid do it
when I want to beat up a cake, and
when I want to stay at home my son
never tells me I will become an old fogy
unless I go out more, and when I want
to go out no one tells me it is too hot
or cold for one of my age, or that one
of my years should never go alone.
“I never hear anything about my age
from my bachelor son. He lets me do
as I please. My daughters complain
because I work, and they say I am too
old to keep house and should live with
one of them, but he doesn’t think I am
too old. He just keeps still, and lets
me wait on him, and that is what I
enjoy.”
The little old women looked wistfully
at the little woman in gray. None of
them had bachelor sons to fuss over,
and knew none of the feeling of a sec
ond honeymoon that comes to a little
old woman In fluttering around and
ministering to a son who never suggests
nor rebukes nor interferes as long as
he Is made comfortable.
They sighed. It must be nice to have
an easy-going son stand between a
mother and her overly-solicitous daugh
ters.
They sighed again. And the sigh
grew in intensity and volume till it
swept the little old women like so many
withered autumn leaves before a gust
of wind, fluttering and skurrylng right
out of the room.
And It was well. For, a moment later,
the voices of many daughters arose on
the air: “I wonder where mother Is so
long. She Is too old to stay away like
this.” —FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
Loss of Power
B and vital force follow Iom at flesh at
55 emaciation. These come from impor*
55 eriahea hiuod.
Dr. Pierce's
| Golden Medical Discovery
£■ .nilr,m a torpid liver—vnrfrhv, tb.
— fcluod—.top. the vute of itrentrth and
j; tissue and builda up healthy flesh—to
— the proper body weight. As an appe*
” tialnff, restorative tonic. It seta ro
— work all the processes of digestion
™ and nutrition, rouses every organ into
— natGrel action, and brings back health
ES and strength.
ii Gen any thin a rise be “jut u
C (ood” tsUkal
EAT MEAT SPARINGLY
DURING SUMMER.
Meat heats the blood—eat very
little of it durln hot weather. That
doesn’t mean that you have to sac
rifice nourishing food because It is
heating.
You will find Faust Spaghetti more
nourishing than meat, and it is also
a light, cooling food. By analysis
you will find that a 10c package of
Faust Spaghetti contains as much
nutrition as 4 lbs. of beef. It is a
rich, glutinous food made from
Durum Wheat, the cereal extremely
high in protein.
Faust Spaghetti can be served in
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recipe book. Sold In 5c and 10c pack
ages.
MAULL BROS.
St. Louis, Mo,
Keeps the armpits fresh,
dry and natural. No
more faded and spoiled
dresses and no more
odor. Eliminates exces
sive perspiration from
any part of the body.
Applied externally. Harm
less, and guaranteed. 25c
and 50c sizes. At all “live”
dealers in toilet articles.
Manufactured exclusively by the
ODOR-O-NO CO.
Cincinnati, O.
E. H. Cone
Brown & Allen
SOLD BY
Inman Park Pharmacy
Palmer's Druq Store
Lamar A Rankl n, Distributor*
Chamberl!n-Jo hn«on-DuBoee
And Other “Live” Dealer* In Toilet Article*.
INSIST ON ODOR-O-NO—THERE’S NOTHING “JUST AS GOOD.*
A. Q. Dunwody
Boet’* Pharmacy
,^-j