Newspaper Page Text
4
IML
THE TUNNEL
GREATEST STORY OF ITS
KIND SINCE JULES VERNE
fl^rnm th* nffiMii of Bombard Kenorm«n»— |
Berman version Copyrighted. 1918, by 8.
I*uK'her Verlag, Berlin. English translation and
conpilaticn by
(Copyrighted,
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
"Is it?" retorted Allan, gTlm’.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 if
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 <•*
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 conscleutlously—
the word is used without Irony—to
earn their money. They pointed out
the magniiicent hospitals where the
injured were cared for free o f charge
while their pay went on just as if
they were working their eight hours
dally under the sea.
They bade the workmen consider
thHr sanitary dwellings where they
lived rent free and compare their lot
with that of other workmen. They
dwelt on the fact that up until thl^
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
g*t iess 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
were silenced. Their slogan was that
"mile and a half of coffins” that had
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
} ’rains, with Eaermann, 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
-Maude .Allan, wife of Mackendrick Allan, whose mind first conceived the
‘ great tunnel scheme After going about 250 miles under the Atlantic Ocean
i Rives gets out of the train. 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 blinding smoke, realizing that about 3.000 men
j ha Vi
Rives
w—m. - realizing that about
• probably perished.' He and other survivors get to Station No. 4.
s finds Baerinanrt bolding at bay a wild mob of frantic men who want
I to climb on a work train.' *fr»omehody 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 gathered there at a summons from C H.
HI "Yd, ‘‘The Money King.” John Rives addresses them, and introduces Al
lan. Mrs. 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.
) The financiers agree to back him. Allan and Rives want him to take charge
j of the actual work. Rives accepts. Rives goes to the Park Club to meet Wit-
> tersteiner. a financier. At Columbus Circle news of the great project is being
? flush'd 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 friendship between her husband
t and Ethel Lloyd. Rives 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 (he great bore. An explosion and lire nave occurred in the tunnel, ami
i 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 ■‘MeSpair But he resolves to conquor. not be
subdued, by the great project. ~4tHLthcring a relief train together he hurries
, into the tunnel. Near the en4 r ha comes to a pile of dead bodies. He
l finally rescues Rives nearly dead. After the disaster the tunnel workers, in
> terrqr, strike and the great project Is stopped
Now Go On With the Story.
The tunnel was empty. Tuhnel
City silent and lifeless. Only here
and there along the streets a soldier
stood, leaning on his rifle.
T T nder 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 he undisturbed in their present
quarters. But all single Mwn, those
that had lived for years Tn the im
mense barracks erected for them,
were ordered to vacate at once, and
'the exodus hf.gan.
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 hv virtue of
„ , , „ , their family responsibilities joined,
come out of the tunnel Their vocal p or two davs TunneT City was a city
chords, too, wore strengthened with of the dpad _ and all of one day the
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,”
shouted one. “Yes. hut 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 If
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 scat of an auto-truck, spoke
through a megaphone and his words
were repeated by other speakers with
megaphones s»o that all could hear.
When the big truck slowly pushed
its way through to the appointed apot,
Allan on the seat with tlie driver, it
was received in dead silence. He did
not yet realize what the Ami rican
w'ho had spoken in the conference un
derstood perfectly—that argument?
could not possibly be of any avail, for
the ears of the workmen w’ere shut
with terror—a deep, gripping horror
of a death by fire 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, w’ork, 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—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. ,
“Yon have lost friends, relatives, in
this addent. So have I, but I shall
not quit because of that. You have
been told that you are w'orking for a
syndicate—to make a few rich men
richer—but I toll you, my friends,
that no little handful of capitalists
ran ever own this tunnel. Thes^ men
are working for you. When this tun
nel is finished the people of the old
find new’ w'orlds will own it. That is
ns certain as the sunrise. It will be
come yours as naturally and surely
as the air vou breathe. No handrul
,.f men can hold you hack from that.
Terror Rules.
*ou are Told that I am working
because it is making me rich. That
;s not true. I was rich enough for
..ne man before the fir^* spade was
driven into the ground where we
stand. We who are building tnU
tunnel—vou and I—are building fo.
/t ,r children and our children’s chil
dren. Every man w ho gives up his life
for this work is a saint in the reli
gion of labor, which is the religion of
Jtr time.
“Anv man who turns hark now' is
a coward and cowards are not need
ed here. But I cal’ on you as brave
men men who are big enough and
brave enough to work for a big and
brave thing, to come hack with me
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 of 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
houses within forty-eight hours.
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 the 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 tlie 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 i Hives was sitting on the veranda in
such a manner that the spectators immaculate summer attire. From the
could not hut see it. Some had lost j shoulders down he was the same
both arms, some a leg. some an arm j Rives that had entered the tunnel
and others an arm and a left. Some th^t terrible night less than a year
were without an eye and ear and hair ! before. But his face was yellow and
only on one side of the head. Mors 1 old and his hair, which had come in
than a fevv werp totally blind and
were led along by their cotnrndPs.
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, ro
there was no need fc. 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 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 full into Xllan’s face. It was
Baermann!—Baermann who had died
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 far from his duty.
That night he ordered a special
train in order to catch a liner fr mi
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
Animation, Right Thinking and Eating as Aid to
Natural Loveliness, Expertly Described by Mary Young
The Land of Liberty
By CARL ANDOVER.
IIIS world Is so full of a num
ber of things” that—accord
ing to Mary Young—w©
ought not to set placidly by being “as
happy as kings,” hut 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-
It is«a singular fact that the first
contribution for these was $10,00.1
from Ethel Lloyd, who also later in
took pains to see that all of them
were provided for in public or nrivat°
institutions. When the procession
marched past the Syndicate building,
there was much swearing and gen
eral uproar, hut 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 i.
absolutely paralyzed the tunnel work.
Then Allan took counsel with his
engineers and with Sidney Wolf, who
will ho remembered as financial di
rector of the syndicate. The deposit
of submarium was found to he 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 proportion to
mine and split the profits with us.”
Allan was right, hut Wolf was too
shrewd to offer to split even. He
demanded 60 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
compnnv 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, and he wanted the
submarium and its miners out of the
M 'V.
Thus, while the tunnel was idle,
other hanAs were cleaning out a
throe-thousand-foot chamber for the
engineers to use in a thousand val
uable wavs In * tho permanent con
struction nnd at the same time the
tunnel was making money at tho
rate of thousands a day Instead of
eating up that much.
In the same way a rich vein or
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 nnd left.
“Tf we had to have a strike, it «
lust as well that we are able to make
it pay.” he remarked, philosophically;
: ,nd <>et himself to work on the plans
for utilizing the great chamber.
Tt was well in more senses than
one. for the financial condition of the
syndicate was hv no means satis
factory. though far from alarming.
Th-'v had planned the second hie
stock issue for January of that year,
hut with a strike on this was im
portable. Consequently their cash
halnncs was running a little low and
the profits of these ventures gave it
a more healthful appearance.
Back Again.
Then one day 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 davs after
ward hi' moped around his office and
did nothing. Then he suddenly an
nounced that he was going to Eu
rope. He sailed next morning.
For months he wandered over the
Continent, visiting the old hotel and
old scenes and old drives that he had
again, was snow-white.
An Ordeal. ,
Bv a tremendous effort Allan con
cealed the terrible shock his friend’3
appearance gave him; but he might
have spared himself the effort. Rives’
eye lit up faintly when Allan darted
up the steps, hut 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.
“Feel?” 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
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. Mao!”
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
about it. It isn’t permanent, old man.
He says that I’m likely to get these
little lapses from time to time for a
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 to
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
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 shock.
“How’s Maud?” asked Rives, cas
ually.
“Maud!” gasped Allan—and then ho
saw the look again.
“Yes. Was she with you in Eu
rope?”
Allan opened his mouth twice to
say something and closed it again.
Rives came over and quickly laid his
hand on his arm.
“There it goes again,” he said, apol
ogetically. "I’m uwfully sorry, Mac,
old man. But it just sort of seems a?
if my memory slips a cog every’ now
and then. I’m not fit to talk to peo
ple—hut 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 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 tnan—really I
do.”
iVo Be Continued To-morrow.
M’sieu—and then she would turn to
the Signor nnd talk N t* • hm with
charm apd. case. jj.r forf-mur^ »It-v*
erness fairly illuminated her beauty.
Her brilliancy made her glowing, vital
and dazzingly lovely; while the less
for rule two, BE SIMPLE AND
NATURAL. That means be well-bred,
For .nothing less well-bred, thah*
the present fad for artificiality for-
make-up unblushingly applied, aqjl
for bold and daringly Immodest cos
('lever women even if of greater ac- tumes could he conjured up in a welsh
tual beauty, faded and paled before j rarebit dream. It is so hard to find
“Believe Me, Xantippe.” at the Thirty-
ninth Street Theater—has never fear
ed work, effort and the constant rou- i
tine of study and rehearsal that
marks the career of the stock actreus.
At present, with the unusually “sim
ple life” marked by hut 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, hut 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
this woman with tho 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, 1 don’t
expect dazzling beauty to result—but
I do confidently expect to gain in hu
man insight through tho ability to
converse with men of other nations
in their own languages—and I expect
a vast field of literature to open be-
foro me.
“Parlor tricks are a great asset to
the girl who would he charming—a
Hit 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 it number of
things—and the girl who desires
beauty must make sure that she has
the setting for the jewel. If you ait*
too lazy to take advantage of dli rhe
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, 1£ 1
stopped to formulate nnd tabulate
th« m, be three-fold, I think. - Improve
your mind, cultivate your natural
gifts and discover a few unsuspected
talents to polish is the first. Then,
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 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 I 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,
hut at last I have learned not to ihise
the jyys of lum hlng.
J t>h, everything worth whll£ in all
this world of numberless things seems
to demand a struggle, hut 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 locr very evident mental
power illuminates her piquant, mobile
brunfett* Charm into a very worth
while type of b. auty.
LILLIAN LAUFERTY.
f I > HE train rumbled comfortably on
I over the steppes; warm lights
from the carriages glowed in
passing reflection in the snow, and lrlto
that frozen land, numbed to desolation
beneath the tyrannous thrall of winter
the train seemed to be a strange in
truder from other lands, hearing 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 fre**dom! Why,
man, Tt is absurd Look at the trouble
we had in croslng the frontier—the end
less searchings and formlllties, 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,
nnd do you remember that gang of poor
folk, being swung along bet wen those
sbIdler*? Did you ever see such poor,
lack lu*ter creatures, hurried along
without knowing why, except because
they had been stung to some useless
protest? I’ll never forgot the look on
their faces—of utter dull hojwdessnws,
And yet you call It a land of liberty.
Why, in Ihe 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 th^ 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 from what I’ve read.” con-
jjntfed.. tjm Englishman, “and there must
be a great deal In the land that makes
all my friends come hack 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 pn
eaVthly reason while they worried over
his. pass out from 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 Nihilist,*, and not merely
!law-abiding citizen* who merely offer a
theoretical op; Ni’-tlie Govern
trtent. It is all unlwfvrVt 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 wbibe steppes, and in
£he clear light thj£|j homesteadf,
nJJ alike with tl\fl big gateway leading
into the yard besidrr*<he- house, the tfrrf-
ber walls, the low that6U 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
bine domes, seeming most .callously aloof
auioug'thpke mean'sprrqtfpdings.
ITie 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 tbetn, and look at those
cold, white Jljiurclyes, t;hat 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 bags 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 outhouses.”
"All right, good-bye,’’ and the train
started at the third bell.
The Rurrian Chuckles.
The Russian wan chuckling happily as
he went ba^k 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
I have often heard. It in 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?”
"T 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 I have seen In Eng-}
land, the silly little rules, even in the
family. You must sit—no, 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 nnd 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 w r ater all the
time.”
“H’m,” said Miss Wary, dryly. “It’s
a pity there couldn't have been a lit
tle soap with it.”
m
KODAKS
Th« Be#! FlnlaMno and Inlara-
Infl Th* Can Be ProtiMtd.’ 1
L Mini a/i Films aad com
plete ntock amateur supplim.
ic* for out-of-town customer*.
for Catalog and Prlca Ll*%.
Y ’■F*
Bend
A.K.
14 Whitehall St.. Atlanta,
HAWKES CO. K r ° D P A T K
a «-
Pennsylvania Lines
SNAP SHOTS
By LILLIAN LAUFERTY.
INDIGESTION?
• your grocer aend
bottles of
THERE IS NO UNBELIEF.
Whoever plants a seed beneath the
sod,
And waits to see it push away the
clod,
Ho 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 other,
he always speaks to me (calling
me by my name). I 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 rm* I feel like an
swering him hack, hut I never do.
Do you think it would be im
proper for me speak 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 opportunity will he given you
for knowing him.
Tongue-Tied.
“Tie 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.”
3 To Women
Broken Down?
Funeral Designs and Flowers
FOR ALL OCCASIONS.
Atlanta Floral Company
455 EAST FAIR STREET.
£2 Whfith»r It’* frtirn buninet* extr*,
22 household drudgery or av«rfroqH* nt
£2 rhil<i-be*rinjf. you necl a Reifmativa
tZ Tonic and Strength-giving Nervine
22 and Regulator.
Dr. Pierce’s
Favorite Prescription
22 I* r^romm^nd'sl as such, having been
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Stop It quickly; Hw
you one <Jo«
SHIVA. R
GINGER ALE
Drink with meals,
and if not prompt
ly relieved, get
your money back
at our expeiiee.
Wholesome de!i-
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Prepared with the
celebrated Shlvar
Mineral Water and
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6 HIV Aft SPRING, Manufacturer!
SHELTON, S. C.
E. L. ADAMS CO., Distributer*. Atlanta
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. PHODES, Gr. P. A.
• Macon, Ga.
Chicago Daylight Expres*
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 Passenger Agent
ATLANTA. GEORGIA