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THE TUNNEL
GREATEST STORY OF ITS
KIND SINCE JULES VERNE
fprom the Herman of Bernhard Kellermann—
fjrrrpan venlon. Copyrighted. 1913, by rt.
Finrher Varlag. Berlin. English translation and
c 1 [iiltSoB by
(Copyrighted, 1918, by International News Serrioe.).
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
"Ia It?” retorted Allan, grim'.v,
"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 did not have ex
actly the effect that Allan had hoped.
The immediate result was a series of
monster mass meetings on the great
dumping plain by the sea. where
speakers addressed crowds of from
fifty to a hundred thousand from a
score of wagons and in a score r.f
tongues. This gave Allan an idea.
He cynically bribed half a dozen if
the influential leaders and sent them
out to make speeches also.
These last worked conscleutiously—
the word is used without irony—to
earn their money. They pointed out
the magnificent hospitals where the
injured were cared for free o' charge
while their pay went on just as if
they were working their eight hours
daily under the sea.
They bade the workmen consider
their sanitary dwellings where they
lived rent free and compare their lot
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 safer.
And finally, “The winter is coming
on,” they cried. “Here it is 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 argument? seemed
to be making headway, but only for
a short time. The opposing orators
were silenced. Their slogan was that
'‘mile 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 only five thou
sand men have been killed since the
tunnel work began years ago,”
phouted one. “Ye?, but what of the
twenty thousand that break down
every year and are turned adrift in
the streets or die in the poorhouses!
No man can stand this hellish work!
It is better, my friends, to get less
pay and live to a decent old age.”
Allan Speaks.
Allan himself was indefatigable. H-?
worked with a feverish energy as ’f
he felt that only by overworking his
mind and body could he shut out the
voice of Grief—the thought of the
ashes of his wife and child in the
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 his
mighty project. And one afternoon
he went out to address the strikers
himself.
For twenty-four hours the event
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 tnegaphone and his words
were repeated bv other speakers with
megaphones so that all could hear.
When tie big truck slowly pushed
Its way through to the appointed spot.
Allan on the seat with the driver, ii
was reee/ved in dead silence. He did
not yet realize what the American
who had spoken i n the conference un
derstood perfectly—that arguments
could ri't possibly be of any avail, for
the cats of the workmen were shut
with terror—a deep, gripping horror
of a ctyath by fire and smoke shock in
* that jut hole under the waters. But
they Aeard him in silence.
Hdtalked for an hour and brought
un fl/ery power of simple reasoning
he ould summon, and as he neared
theJnd it seemed for a time that the
debate of the conference was wrong;
fortie could feel that he was winning
then.
fft is true that this work has killed
seferal thousand men,” he shouted.
“Jou know me—everyone of you
Wows me. You know that I have
ijen fair and generous—and you
now how terribly this disaster has
Jruck at me. But. work, my friends,
s killing hundreds of men every day
n every quarter of the world. Work
is killing ten men an hour in New
York City to-day—hut 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 acident. So have I, but I shall
not quit because of that. You have
been told that you are working for a
syndicate—to make a few rich men
richer—but I tell you, my friends,
that no little handful of capitalists
can ever own this tunnel. These men
are working for you. When this tun
nel is finished the people of the old
and new worlds will own it. That Is
as certain as the sunrise. It will be
come yours as naturally and surely
as the air you breathe. No handful
of men can hold you back from that.
Terror Rules.
“You are told that I am working
because it is making me rich. That
is not true. 1 was rich enough for
one man before the fir*** spade was
driven into the ground where we
stand. We who are building thU
tunnel—you and I—are building fo»
our children and our children’s chil
dren. Every man who gives up his hie
for ihiH work is a saint in the reli
gion of labor, which is the religion of
our time.
“Any man who turns baok now is
a coward and cowards are not need
ed here. But 1 call on you as brave
men. men who are big enough and
brave enough to work for a big and
brave thing, to come back with my
and conquer the earth.”
He ceased and lowered the mega
phone to show, that he had finished
There was an instant’s silence and
then a rippling, 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 ol: terror, the terror they
had for a few moments forgotten.
That night there was another big
meeting 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
-wdgiu hours.
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE
iri _ c r 5? fi ory °D ens w ^h Rives, who is in charge of the technical work-
t ,,ff na °* l .he great tunnel from America to Germany, on one of the tunnel
udins, with Baermann, an engineer. In charge of Main Station No. 4. They
j rav ® 1 , in * at . the rate of 118 miles an hour. Rives is in love with
olio* . , ’ ™ lfe of Maokendrick Allan, whose mind first conceived the
gr at tunnel scheme. After going about 250 miles under the Atlantic Ocean
5v. s , out . °f the train. Suddenly the tunnel seems to burst. There
l, a frightful explosion. Men are flung to death and Rives is badly wounded.
Jo,. Aggers through the blinding smoke, realizing that about 3,000 men
Probably perished. He and other survivors get to Station No. 4.
v ( s Baermann holding at bay a wild mob of frantic men who want
L°.„_ , on . a .work train, somebody shoots Baermann, and the train slides out.
he 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-
ian. Airs. Allan and Maude Lloyd, daughter of the financier, are also pres-
ent. Allan tells the company of his project for a tunnel 3.100 miles long.
fmanr,ers 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-
terstelner, a financier. At Columbus Circle news oj the great project Is being
Hashed on a screen. Thousands are watching it. Mrs Allan becomes a lonely
Jg d . ./ ie „T ecte(3 woman and ls much thrown in the company of Rives. Sydney
aii f ’ i the money power of two continents, plots against Allan and Rives. Mrs.
Allan has her suspicions aroused as to the friendship between her husbaied
ftnd Ethel Lloyd. Rives and Mrs. Allan let the wine of love got td 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 tne 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,
pIves was missing in the tunnel and Allan, his wife, child, dearest friend and
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. He
finally rescues Rives nearly dead After the disaster the tunnel workers, in
terror, strike and the great project is stopped.
Now Go On With the Story.
The tunnel was empty. Tunnel
City silent and lifeless. Only here
and 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.
Guided by 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 bv virtue of
their family responsibilities joined.
For two days Tunnel City wag a city
of the dead, and all of one day the
thousands of strikers paraded the
streets of the great city bearing ban
ners that blazoned to the world their
opinions of Allan and all 4he masters
of the tunnel.
Allan and Lloyd were hung in ef
figy, a movable gallows being carted
around for the purpose so that the
execution might take place whenever
the spirit moved them. The streets
rang with “The Marseillaise,” 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 strike.
This was a delegation marching
four abreast and nearly a half mile
long. The leader carried a banner,
which bore the inscription, “Mac’s
Cripples.” 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 ah 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 is a singular fact that the first
contribution for these was $10,000
from Ethel Lloyd, who also later m
took pains to see that all of them
were provided for in public or private
institutions. When the procession
marched past the Syndicate building
there was much swearing 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 to
Tunnel City temporarily then scat
tered in search of work. But the
strike was successful in so far as j.
absolutely paralyzed the tunnel work.
Then Allan took counsel with his
engineers and with Sidney Wolf, who
will be remembered as financial di
rector of the syndicate. The deposit
of submarium was found to be 30 feet
deep in the thinnest place of the great
submarine chamber which the explo
sion had opened. Since actual tunnel
work was temporarily impossible. Al
lan proposed that this invaluable
treasure be mined 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
mine 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 tajee no less, thus allowing
tH, in tu n \\. •. ks in which to beat him
down to 52 1-2 per cent. The mineral
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, sro
tlfere was no 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 ended it. One
day in the spring he was in Paris
and attracted by the placards outside,
which described the wonderful views
of the tunnel work, he went in and
took a seat. He watched for a half-
hour and felt the old call stir in hi?
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 full into Allan’s faee. It was
Baermann!—Baermann who had died
at hit* 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 »f the young man had
looked at him and the surprise was
due to the fact that he had wandered
so far from his duty.
That night he ordered a special
train in order to catch a liner from
Liverpool in the morning. 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 how Rives was
getting on. He found his friend at
his house, discharged from the hos
pital.
It was a 'Chilly spring day, but
Rives was sitting on the veranda m
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 his friend’s
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.
“I^eel?” he echoed vaguely. And
then, “Oh, I'm feeling fine. My head’s
better.”
Allan moistened his lips. “I’m glad
to hear it,” he said heartily. Rives
srared at him. Allan met his eyes
steadily and suddenly marked with
joy that the blank, puzzled look was
leaving. Rive^, 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 his friend’s face.
I know—the doctor has told me all
compatiy came in with its own labor
and began working three shifts, which | about it. It isn t permanent, old man
Allan insisted on. ns he believed that i He says that I’m likely to get these
tin strike could not last more than a little lapses from time to time for a
month or two, and he wanted the year or so. What will you have
submarium and its miners out of the
way.
Thus, while the tunnel was idle,
other hands were cleaning out a
three-thousand-foot chamber for the
engineers to use in a thousand val
uable ways in the permanent con
struction and at the same time the
tunnel was making money at the
rate of thousands a day Instead of
eating up that much.
I In the same way a rich vein of
potassium and another of iron ore
that had been tapped in the Biscayan
boring were worked for an enor
mous profit, and Allan leased water
power right and left.
“If w e had to have a strike, it s
just as well that we are able to make
it pav.” he remarked, philosophically;
and set himgelf to work on the plana
for utilizing the great chamber.
It was well in more senses than
one for the financial condition of the
syndicate was bv no means satis
factory. though far from alarming.
They had planned the seeond big
stock issue for January of that year,
but with a strike on this was im-
ooasible. Consequently their cash
balance was running a little low and
the profits of these ventures gave it
a more healthful appearance.
Back Again.
Then one clay an abrupt change
came over Allan.
Denied the nepenthe of tremendous
work, hia private grief swept back
upon him. A visit to Rives in the
hospital did it. For two day* after -
ward he moped around his office and
did nothing. Then he suddenly an
nounced that he was going to Mu-
rope. He sailed next morning.
For month-' he wandered **>•■
Continent, visitir," the old hotel and
old scciiea and oj^Nives that he &ad To Be Continued To-morrow.
Scotch or rye?”
“A little Scotch—that’ll do—’nuff! ”
Standing by the sideboard they drank
each other’s health, and Allan tried to
make himself forget that look in
Rives' eye. Bverv 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
Mack quickly 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 shork.
•How's Maud?” asked Rives, cas
ually. . ,
"Maud!” gasped Allan—and then he
saw the look again.
"Yes. Was she with you in Eu
rope ?”
Allan opened his mouth twice to
say something and closed it again.
Fives came over and quickly laid his
hand on his arm.
“There it goes again,” he said, apol
ogetically. "I’m awfully sorry, Mac,
old man. But it just sort of seems as
if my memory slips 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
Rivea, gently, and Allan started un
der his 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
go.” •
Animation, Right Thinking and Eating as Aid to
Natural Loveliness, Expertly Described by Mary Young
The Land of Liberty
By CARL ANDOVER.
HIP 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
ber 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 pever fear
ed work, effort and the constant rou
tine of study and rehearsal that
marks the career <«f 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 which one of our great prima 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’sieu—and then she would turn to
the Signor and talk to aim 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
I do confidently expect to gain in hu
man insight • through the ability to
converse with men of other nations
in their own languages—and 1 expect
a vast field of literature to open be
fore me.
“Parlor tricks are a great asset to
the girl who would he 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 1ms
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 1
stopped to formulate and tabulate
them, be three-fold, I think. Improve
your mind, cultivate your natural
gifts and discover a few unsuspected
talents to polish is the first. Then,
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.
-BULWEE LYTTON.
• • *
BETTER NOT.'
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 17 years old, and am in
love witty a boy 18 years of age. I
see him nearly every night. Al
though we don’t know each other,
he always speaks to me (calling
me by my name). I have n<> girl
friends or gentlemen friends
whom I know’ who would give me
an introduction. 1 know he Is
anxious to meet me. Every time
he speaks to me 1 feel like an
swering him back, but I never do.
Do you think it would ho im
proper for me i spdhk 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 say
where you see him. leaving the infer
ence that it is on the street, and that
is reason in itself why you should not
include him among your friends with
no one to stand sponsor for him.
Wait, my dear. If he is the right
one, the ooportunity 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.”
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for rule two, BE ■ SIMPLE AND
NATURAL. That moans 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 be conjured up in a welsh
rarebit dream. It is so hard to find
the real human likeableness of a
woman who ls 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 able 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 is; Preserve a youthful,
graceful, supple figure. Don't let fat
accumulate. Fat is the white woman’s
burden. This is my method of fighting
it: For breakfast 1 have a cup of
black coffee and a piece of toast; for
lunch—NOTHING; and dinner is a
fairly simple, sweetless meal. It took
me a year to learn to live a lunch-less
life. At first I used to eat a few
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
tha struggle,’ doesn’t it?” concluded
Miss Young, with the dear little ninth
that like her very evident merftal
power illuminates her piquant, mobile
brunette charm into a very worth
while type of beauty.
LI LI A AS LAUFERTY.
I N DIGESTION?
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rpilE train rumbled comfortably on
| 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 ear, “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, It is absurd. Look at the trouble
we had In crosing the 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,
j luck luster creatures, hurried along
j without knowing why, except because
they had been stung to some useless
protest? I’ll never forget 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 reasoh that feels it,”
said the Russian. “And yet—
“No,” said his fellow traveler; “to
you perhaps Russia may Pdem free, be
cause you are coming home, and you
know all the conventions, and are look
ing forward to a familiar intimacy with
your own people.! That, no doubt, is a
freedom; but it is by no means a trait
of Russia as a country.”
His Objection.
The Russian smiled reflectively, and
tapped on the table with his fingers.
“Of course, I speak without knowl
edge, except front what I’ve read,” con
tinued the Englishman, “and there must
be a great deal in the land that makes
all my friends coma back 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
gdod 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 ls 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 within 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 ear 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 ls better than three
pressed men. Another point,” he add
ed to his companion; and he went on
to tell of the froedom 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 wan being helped
into the carriage by a man servant,
who followed with her bags and wraps.
“Good-bye, Afanasie,” she said; “keep
well and see that all goes all right.”
“Qood-bye, Marie—a pleasant jour
ney,” he replied, “and, remember the
stoves for the outhouses.”
“All right, good-bye,” and the train
started at the third bell.
The Rurrian Chuckles.
The Russian was chuckling happily as
he went back to his compartment with
the Englishman
“And therein.” he saJd, “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
I have often heard. It is the great cau
tion of your lives. And it 1n 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
speak 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 T have seen in Eng
land. the silly little rules, even In the
family. You must sit—so, you must
eat—so, you must speak—go, 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, w« 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 a lit
tle soap with it.”
KODAKS
‘Tha B««t Fhriatiln* a*d Inlartj-
I** Tht* Cu Be <*m4V
K a tinier. Filina end com
pute sine* uiutteur MippUoa.
4c* for out-of-town <mitcroie«*
Send for Catalog and Price List.
A. K. HAWKES CO. K D ° E °A K
14 Whitehall 5L. Atlente. Q«.
Pennsylvania Lines
CHEAP EXCURSION TO
FLORIDA
Via G. S. & F. Railway.
Fare from Macon to
Jacksonville $4.00, Palatka
$4.50, St. Augustine $4.50,
and Tampa $6.00. Propor
tionately low rates from in
termediate stations. Spe-
; cial trains leave Macon
10:30 a. m. and 11:30 a. m.
September 9. Tickets lim
ited five days.
C. B. RHODES, G. P. A.
Macon, Ga.
Daylight and Overnight
Chicago
Trains
Chicago Daylight Expre*s
Lvs. Cincinnati 9:15 a. m.
Ars. Chicago 5:45 p. m.
Chicago Express
Lvs. Cincinnati 9:20 p. m.
Ars. Chicago 7:10 a. m.
For further information inquire at
ATLANTA OFFICE
705 Candler Building
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 Paeeenger Agent
ATLANTA. GEORGIA
—