Newspaper Page Text
When “The Other Man” Entered the Home of “The Money Master’’
Fascinating Studies of the Picturesque Canadian
Habitants in Sir Gilbert Parker’s Latest and Greatest
Novel, Now Appearing in HEARST’S MAGAZINE.
TO those who know and love Sir Gilbert
* Parker’s wonderful stories of Canadian
life, and to those few who do not know
them, the great writer’s newest novel, now
appearing in HEARST’S MAGAZINE, will
appeal as the most delightful literary treat
of many years. Greater than "The Right of
Way,” stronger and fuller than any of the
stories he has ever written, is that of Jean
Jerques, the “Philosophe," and his ardent
wife, Carmen. In ihe current instalment in
HEARST’S MAGAZINE the "other man en
ters the house of the Money Master.” The
scene between the lovable old Judge and the
Clerk of the Court who has discovered the
fact, is told as no other writer could. By
permission of HEARST’S MAGAZINE the
Incident is reprinted here, a brief synopsis
of what has gone before being included.
(SYNOP8IA)
J.en Jaoquea did a treasonable thing—he mar
ried outside his parish of St Saviour's; and his
habitant neighbors nrvar forgave him; they
called his bride the Hpanische. though they never
went further than that, becauee Jean Jacques,
phtloeopher, was s power In the Canadian coun
tryside. a miller, farmer, and money maeter who
oould make or break men It all came about
when he went on his drand Tour to ths land
of his forefathers Ha was lonely in Paris; he
was a curiosity In Norrpandy; he spent money
in the Basque country; but the great thing hap
pened when he boarded his ship for home—
when he would have even Carmen first If she
hadn't got ahead of him. She and her father,
Sebastian Dolores, were fleeing from, Spanish
Justice, Carmen, herself. In spite of the vol
canic strain of the light of love In her, was Just
as good as she ought to be but ehe wanted to
have her chance So ehe decided to marry Jean
Jacques She was beautiful; what more could
a mun want! Just as she got him to ths point
of proposing ths ship struck an Iceberg. Then
came the race for land; the lifeboats were so
crowded that Jean Jacques had to swim. When
his strength failed and he was sinking, Carmen
swam to him arid helped him to shore He had
not saved her life, but ehe had saved him; of
course, he had to propose.
A MOMENT afterward the Judge, as he
walked down the street still arm in
arm with the Clerk of the Court, said,
"That child must have good luck, or she will
not have her share of happiness. She has
depths that are not deep enough." Presently
he added, "Tell me, my little Clerk, the man—
Jean Jacques—he Is so much away, has there
never been any talk about about”
“About—monsieur le Juge?" asked M. Fille
rather stiffly. "For Instance—-about what?"
"For Instance, about a man—not Jean
Jacques?"
1 The lips of the Clerk of the Court tightened.
"Never at any time—till now, monsieur le
Juge.”
"Ah—till now!"
The Clerk of the Court Mushed. What he
was about to say was difficult, put he alone
of all the world guessed at the tragedy which
was hovering over Jean Jacques' home. By
chance he had seen something on an after
noon of three days before, and he had fled
from It as a child would fly from a demon.
He was a purist at law, but he was a purist
In life also, and not because the flush of
youth had gone and his feet were on the path
that leads Into the Autumn world of a man's
days. The thing he had seen had been terribly
on his mind, and he had felt that his own Judg
ment was not sufficient for the situation, that
he ought to tell some one.
The Judge could feel his friend's arm
tremble with emotion, and. he said. "Come,
now, my little Plato, what Is It? A man has
come to disturb the peace of Jean Jacques
our philosophe?"
"That is It. monsieur—a man of a kind ”
"Oh, of course, my bambino, of course, a
man 'of a kind,' or there would be no peace
disturbed. You want to tell me. I see. Pro
ceed then: there Is no reason why you should
not. I ntn secret I have seen much. I have
no prejudices. As you will, however; hut I
can see It would relieve your mind to tell me.
In truth I felt there was something when 1 saw
you look at her first, when you spoke to her,
when she talked with me. She is a fine figure
of a woman, and Jean Jacques, as you say, Is
much away. In fact he neglects her—Is it not
so?"
"He means It not, bnt It ts so. His life is
full or
"Yes, yes. of stores and ash-factories and
debtors and llgbtntng-rods and Ume-kllns. and
mortgaged farms, and the price of wheat—but
certainly. 1 understand It all. my little savant.
Bhe is too much alone, and If she has traveled
by the compass all these thirteen years without
losing the track. It Is something to the credit
of human nature.*
"Ah, monsieur, a vow before the good Cod!”
The Judge Interrupted quickly. "Tut. tut—
these vows' I>o you not know that a vow may
bo a thing that ruins past redemption? A vow
Is sacred Well, a poor mortal in one moment
of weakness breaks It. There Is a sense of
awful shame—of being lost, of never being able
to put right the breaking of the vow. though
the rest can be put right by sorrow and
repentance! 1 would have no vows. They
haunt like ghosts when they are broken they
torture like Are then. Don't talk to me of vows.
It ts not vows that keep the world right, but
the prayer of a man's soul from day to day."
The Judge’s words sounded almost blas
phemous to M Fille. A vow not keep the
world right! Then why the vows of the Church
at baptism, at confirmation, at marriage? Why
the vows of the priests, of the nuns, of those
who had given themselves to eternal service?
Monsieur le Juge had spoken terrible things.
And yet he had said at the last, "It is not vows
that keep the world right, but the prayer of a
man's soul from day to day.”' That was not
heretical, or atheistic, or blasphemous. It
sounded logical and true and good.
He was about to say that, to some people,
vows were the only way of keeping them to
their duty—and especially women—but the
Judge added gently: "I would not for the
world hurt your sensibilities, my little Clerk,
and we are not nearly so far apart as you
think at the minute. Thank God 1 keep the
faith that 1s behind ail faith—the speech of a
man’s soul with God. * * * But there. If
vou can. let us hear what man R is who dls-
Birbs the home of the philosophe. It is not
my Ftlle, that’s sure."
He oould not resist
teaching, this Judge who
had a mind of the most
rare uprightness; and
he was not always sor
ry when his teasing
hurt; for, to his mind,
men should be lashed
Into strength, when
they drooped over the
tasks of life; and what
so sharp lash as ridi
cule or satire!
"Proceed, my friend,"
he urged brusquely,
not waiting for the gasp
of pained surprise of
the little clerk to end.
He was glad to see the
figure beside him pres
ently straighten Itself,
as though to be braced
for a task of difficulty.
A little Indignation and
resentment were good
things to stiffen a
man's back.
It was three days
ago,” said M. Fille. "I
saw It with my own
eyes. I had come to the
Manor Cartier by the
road, down the hill
Mont Violet, behind the
house. J could see into
the windows of the
house. There was no
reason why I should
not see there never
has been a reason," he
added, as though to
Justify himself
"Of course. Of course,
my friend. One's eyes
are open, and one aees
what one paes .**
"As I looked down I
saw Madame with a
man's arms round her,
and his lips to hers. It
was not Jean Jacques"
‘Of coursa. Of course.
Proceed What
you do?"
"I stopped
back”
"Of course. Behind
a tree?”
"Behind some elder
berry bushes."
"Of course Elder
berry bushes — that’s
better than a tree. I am very fond of elder-
Derry wine when It Is new. Proceed.”
o ^be Clerk of the Court shrank. What did
it matter whether or no the Judge liked elder-
berry wine when the world was falling down
tor Jean Jacques and his Zoe—and his wife.
But with a sigh he continued: "There ts
nothing more. 1 stayed there for a little while,
and then crept up the hill again, add came back
to m.v home and locked myself in."
"What had you done that you should lock
yourself In?”
"Ah, monsieur, how can I explain such
things? Perhaps I was ashamed that I had
seen things I should not have seen. I do not
blush that 1 wept for the little Zoe, who Is—-
you saw her, monsieur le Juge."
"Yes, yes, the little Zoe. and the little
philosopher. Proceed"
"What more Is there to tell!"
"A trifle perhaps as you will think,” re
marked the Judge Ironically, but as one who,
finding a crime must needs find the criminal
too. "I must ask you to Inform the Court who
was the too polite friend of Madame"
He had impressed the Court as he replied, ‘Me; 1 am M’sieu
Jean Jacques, Philosophe’.”
“ji ruotj me. I rorgot. It Is of
course essential. You must know that there
Is a flume, a great wooden channel"
"Yes, yes. I comprehend. Once I had a case
of a flume. It was fifteen feet deep and let in
the water of the river to the mill-wheels. It
regulates, concentrates, and directs the water
power. I comprehend perfectly. Well?"
"So. This flume for Jean Jacques's mill was
also fifteen feet deep or mere. It was out of
repair, and Jean Jacques called in a master-
carpenter from I.aplatte, Masson by name—
George Masson—to put the flume right”
"How long ago was that?"
"A month ago. But Masson was not here
all the time. It was his workmen who did the
repairs, but ho oame over to see—to superin
tend. At first 1 came twice i: the week.
Then he came every day."
"Ah, then he came every day! How do you
know that?”
“It was my custom to walk to the mill every
day—to watch the work on the flume. Every
thing in a little place Interests, and It was only
five miles away across the fields and through
“Then the mother gets fits and makes things hard at the Manor Cartier. It is not a bed of roses for Jean Jacques. If he were not
so busy with his farms and mills he would see what a woman he has got. Jacques, he ought to know, if he really is a philosopher,
that a woman wants the cleverest man in the world to be a boy and play the fool sometimes.”
the woods, making a walk of much charm— .,t. lie was agitated; he mSue . retesting him, Bttle maftre . . . When? Since
especially in the Autumn when the colors are
so beautiful In the trees, and the air has a
touch of pensiveness, so that one is Induced to
reflection.”
There was the slightest tinge of impatience
in the Judge’s response. “Yes, yes, I under
stand. You walked to study life and to reflect
and to enjoy your Intimacy with nature, but
also to see our little friend Zoe and her home.
And I do not wonder. She has a charm which
makes me sad—for her."
"So I have felt, so I have felt for her, mon
sieur. When she Is gayest and as It might
seem I am quite happy talking to her, or pto-
nicktng or Idling on the river, or helping her
with her lessons. I have sadness, I know not
why.”
The Judge pressed his frlend’B arm firmly.
His voice grew a little more Insistent. "Now
Maltre Fille, I think I understand the story,
but there are lucanae which you must fill. You
say the thing happened three days ago—when
will the work be finished?”
"The work will be finished to-morrow, mon
sieur. Only one workman ts left and he will
be done with his task to-night."
"So the thing—the comedy or tragedy will
'nr to an e.~- to-morrow,” remark?' the
Judge seriously. "How did you find that the
workmen go to-morrow, maltre?"
"Jean Jacques—he told me yesterday.”
"Then It all ends to-morrow," responded the
Judge.
The puzzled subordinate stood almost still,
and looked at the Judge in wonder. Why should
It all end to-morrow simply because the work
was finished at the flume? At last he spoke.
"It is only twelve miles to I.aplatte where
George Masson lives, and he has. besides, an
other contract near here, only four miles from
the Manor Cartier. Also besides how can we
know what she'll do—Jean Jacques’s wife?
How ca.. we tell but that she will perhaps go
"- 1 lecve the littin beloved oe alone!”
"And leave m’sieu' the philosophe also
alone?” remarked the Judge quizzically, yet
with some solemnity.
-,i. lie was agitated; he mdde . retesting
esture. '‘ T --- .Tacoues can And cor-fort. hut
the little one—as, no, it Is too terrible. Some
one should speak. I tried to do It—to Madame
Carmen, to Jean Jacques; but It was no use.
How could I betray her to him! How could
I make her understand that I knew her shame!”
The Judge turned brusquely and caught the
little man by the shoulders, fastening him with
the eyes which had made many a witness for
get to He.
“If you were an avocat In practice I would
ruin your reputation, Fille,” he said. “A fool
would tell Jean Jacques, or speak to the wom-
u. and 11 !>”• for women go when
they are In danger, and they do the Impossible
t ;gs. B did .i. not occur to you *’ om
person to have In a quiet room with the doors
shut, with the light of the sun in his face,
with the book of the law opened on the desk
before you, and the possible compensation to
be got by an injured husband in a Catholto
province with a Catholic Judge written down
on a piece of paper to hand over at the right
moment—did it not come to your mind that
that person was your George Masson?”
M. Fllle’s head dropped before the disdain
ful eyes of M. Carcasson. He who prided him
self in keeping the court right on points of
procedure, who was looked upon almost with
the respect attending the position of the Judge
himself, that he should fall so completely In
thinking of the obvious thing was humiliating,
anl alas! no disconcerting.
“How old Is he”
"Forty or thereabouts, monsieur."
The Judge cogitated for a moment, then
said: “Ah, that’s bad—unmarried and forty,
and no vices except this. It gives him few
escape valves. Is he good-looking? What Is
his appearance?”
"Nor short, nor tall, and square shoulders.
His face like the yellow brown of a peach,
hair that curls close to his head, blue eyes
that see everything, and a big hand that knows
what It Is doing.”
The Judge nodded. "Ah, you have watched
The Meaning of the Word “Gentleman”— By ci h P L R .nS H ci,S^S N
A NY expression more delightful, more
abused or misused until It is twisted
beyond all recognition than the word
gentleman It is difficult to conceive. To some
minds It means one who can afford to do noth
ing, an achievement regarded by many as the
acme of bliss. To others It stands for a tailor-
made arrangement who possesses a certain
amount of trousers and silk socks which are
the envy of the town and mark the transition
between the middle and the upper class.
The effects of the feudal system in Eng
land are deeply rooted in the people, and you
may talk as long as you please, but the "gen
tleman" will always remain a person who has
a certain way with him, affects a certain set,
can talk the King's English, knows the art of
compliments, and is Interested to an exag
gerated extent in all and every one with whom
he has to do. This may aopenr anil Is ex
tremely superficial, but even here there Is
something to the good If it helps to frustrate
the disgusting power of sheer wealth and the
appalling lack of education on the part of the
merely rich, who are thus forced to feel that,
whatever else Is purchasable, they cannot buy
such adornments under several generations.
It may sound rather vague, but I suppose
there are various things which a gentleman
never could do, as for Instance marrying for
money, which Is as base a performance as can
well be Imagined, or making a display of what
he may happen to possess, or telling a lie,
except to defend a woman's honor, or slander
ing his neighbor, be they who they may, or
engaging In conversation which ts even ques
tionable, or being supercilious with servants,
or despising the unfortunate, or cheating,
whether on a large or a small scale, or being
guilty of the slightest chincanery, tn politics
or private affairs, or. In short. Indulging In
falsity of any kind. All these and a thousand
other things, which are Chinese to the thick-
skinned and unsensltive, come under the limi
tations of a gentleman, though It Is quite pos
sible that our hero, may be as a lid is a hawk,
and get Into messes whereby he breaks hls
mother’s heart, but he still may remain a gen
tleman.
The shadow of the opposite would, however,
soon appear on the wall If he was once guilty
of underhandedness, gave any one away, dis-
plaied an lota of scheming, affect? ■ big
names, consorted with those whom privately
he did not respect, received money from any
doubtful source, or betrayed a "cuteness,"
which In some circles ranks almost with vir
tue. It is a matter of supreme indifference to
him whether he is honored by kings, or daily
reported in the Journal as the companion of
the noblest in the land, if privately he .is be
neath contempt for these traits of which he
Is perfectly conscious tn his heart of hearts,
and which can never be condoned by worldly
success. The word “gentleman" goes further
back than all these outward manifestations,
and expresses something almost synonymous
with the word Christian, spelling as it does a
certain retiring type which is infinitely gentle,
though extremely manly, which has no respect
for persons because it has respect for all per
sons, which inwardly hankers after God, Is in
tent on hurting no one by a contrast at their
expense, regulates its favors by the needs, not
the gifts, of others, and evinces beyond doubt
a passionate desire to devolp, not bo much the
science of politeness, which may be easily
overdone, but purity of soul in everything
which may be termed of good report It is an
axiom that a gentleman never advertises, that
If he does good he does it by stealth, and that
as birds of a feather flock together, he never
finds himself at home except with a kindred
spirit, quite apart from any accidents of birth
or circumstances.
The extraordinary fallacy still remains as
to the "making’' of a gentleman by sending
him to certain schools which need not be men
tioned, and there are many thoughtful people
who are beginning to hold that the collecting
together of rich boys with a view to this end
is nto only detrimental to education, but re-
sultative of a snobbery and social mischief
eminently to be regretted. We may almost be
Bure that In later years, when frequent men
tion Is made of such establishments, the
speaker has fallen from the very pinnacle he
Intends to infer, whether he was ever there
or not. In the long run we arrive at the con
clusion that the gentleman Is born, and thanks
be 10 heaven cannot be manufactured, it is
strange but true that among members of the
same family one may be a gentlemnn and an
other the reverse, which is argued by the ad
vocates of heredity to suggest a throwback,
but which is probably more explicable by the
law of disposition, a mystery which baffles the
greatest metaphysicians, and accounts for the
theory of predestination. In some such sense
a gentleman would seem to belong to tho elect,
not by any choosing of his own, but Just be-
caues he is so, very much in the same way as
from time to time a great race horse appears.
though I fancy he is not allowed to compete
unless his name is in the stud book. Some of
the greatest gentlemen I happen to have met
have been among the poor, and their average
In the peasant class is probably higher than
among the "upper classes,” an epithet which is
fast ceasing to be warranted.
To my thinking one of the truest definitions
of the ethics of a gentleman is the Fifteenth
Psalm, and he who manages to live in the
spirit of It is fairly near the coveted title. What
the world forgets, however, is that In spite of
the most favorable handicap., in this direction,
the word gentleman requires much watching
and much keeping, since it is by do means a
hereditary title which can never be lost, how
ever soiled or dragged in the mud. On the othe.
hand, a man may cease to be a gentleman, not
generally in a moment, the slant being often
a very gradual one, and though he will prob
ably preserve to the last a semblance of which
he cannot get rid. it Is more than easy to
trifle with this Inheritance until he becomes
a by-word for the opposite. *
The would-be gentleman must be intensely
careful, as he 1b being attacked all the time
by influences so subtle that he can hardly de
tect their approach, and he may bless God
every morning he wakes if hls lot is cast in
surroundings of almost Spartan simplicity,
which have become well nigh a condition of
not falling away. I can imagine a gentleman
not keeping a motor, though he be as rich as
Croesus, nor should I be surprised to find him
living much In the country, devoted to his
garden, a great student. Interested In science,
much given to natural history, fond of animals,
flowers aud every sort of delight which keeps
him clean and goes far to save him from the
mire. Of one thing I am assured, namely, that
he will adore his mother, never be ashamed
of hls origin, and studiously refuse to pretend
he is anything except what he is. Doubtless
he will be accused of being a socialist in the
highest sense, though, averse as he Is to being
pointed at with the finger, he will only mingle
in public affairs against his own inclining be
cause he feels that he owes a duty to hls
country. Such a man will also be conspicuous
for pity, always doff his hat to a ruin, be
chivalrous to a woman, whether young or old,
beautiful or plain, noble or Ignoble, Just be
cause she ts a woman, and he may take It for
granted that where this speciality Is lacking
there is a weak point in hls harness which
sooner or later must betray him. Also I am
convinced that the perfect gentleman will be
deferential to his mental superiors, recogniz
ing talent, wherever it may be found, and will
also pay respect to social differences with ab
solute ease, as supremely unimportant, pre
serving the while his entire Independence, of
which no one on God's earth can ever rob him.
The gentleman is accustomed to accommodate
his pace to the weakest, to arrange hls con
versation according to the capacity and inter
est of his audience, to give without conferring
the wound of an obligation, to use hospitality
without grudging, to be careless of a visiting
list, and ever to keep hls door on the latch, so
that it may easily be pushed open by the
stranger or even by the criminal, who finds a
city of refuge at hls hearth and in hls heart.
The true gentleman belongs to the world
and is never Insular, which is only another
form 6f self-consciousness, but whatever his
nation, he is morally a polyg'ot and talks the
language of humanity. You will find him with
out exception on the side of the weak, and
ready to shiver a lance for the oppressed and
the degraded, or those who have been ostra
cised by the world, which means for him less
than nothing and is in his esteem woefully
cruel and nearly always wrong. As regards the
accused, he is ever on their side before sen
tence is pronounced, after which the pathos of
the verdict appeals to him, since he not only
feels but affirms that, save for the grace of
God, he himself would probably be In a sim
ilar If not worse plight. The gentleman Is a
person whom you never notice when he is in
a room, and never forget when he is gone,
and no one Is so much missed, though no one
desires to be so less. He understands like no
other being on earth, says the right thing,
though oftener still preserves silence, as the
case may require, and always carries about
with him a sense of comfort and livable-with-
ness which is unique. He Is seldom angry,
though two things are apt to make him wild,
namely, cowardice and cruelty for which he
has no use. and when a friend Is hurt he is
rather apt to act as Peter did toward Malchus,
while the latter would be fortunate to get off
with one ear,
If you ask me In conclusion where to find
the gentleman, I have no answer, for he la the
most elusive quantity, the greatest hail mark
of hla character being self-eclipse, so that the
object of our article baa disappeared.
him, Bttle maltre. . .
then?”
"No, no, monsieur, not since. If I had
watched him sinoe, I should perhaps have
thought of the right tMng to do. But I did
not. I used to watch him while the work was
going on, when he first came, bnt I hare
known him all hls life from a distance. If a
man makes himself what he Is, you look at
him of course."
"Truly. Hls temper—hls disposition, what
is it?”
M. FITle was very much alive now. He re
plied briskly "Like the snap of a whip. He
files into anger and files out. He has a laugh
that makes men say, ‘How he enjoys himself!'
and hls mind is very quick and sure."
The Judge nodded with satisfaction. "Well
done! Well done! I have got him In my eye.
He will not be so sasy to handle; but, if he has
brains, he will see that you have the right end
of the stick; and he will kiss and ride away.
It will not bq easy, but the game is In your
hands, lltt’.e man. In a quiet room, with the
book of the law open, and figures of damages
given by a Catholic court and Judge—I think
that will do It; and the course of true philoso
phy will not long be interrupted tn the house
of Jean Jacques Barbllle ’’
“Monsieur—monsieur le Juge, you mean that
I shall do this, shall see George Masson and
warn him—-me?"
"Who else? You are a friend of the family.
You are a public officer, to whom the good
name of your parish is dear. As all are aware
no doubt, yon are the trusted ancient oomrade
of the daughter of the woman—I speak legally
—Carmen Barbllle, nee Dolores, a name of
charm to the ear. Who but you then to do it?"
The little man’s self-respect seemed restored.
He preened himself somewhat and bowed to
the Judge. "I take your oommands, monsieur,
to obey them as heaven gives me power so to
do. Shall it be to-morrow?"
Tho Judge reflected a moment, then said:
“To-night would be better, but"
“I can do it better to-morrow morning,”
interposed M. Fille, "for George Masson has a
meeting here at Vilray with the Avocat
Prideaux at 10 o'clock to sign a contract, and
I can ask him to step into my office on a little
affair of business. He will not guess, and I
shall be armed”—the Judge frowned—"with
the book of the law on such misdemeanors,
and the figures of the damages"—the Judge
smiled—"and I think perhaps I can frighten
him as he has never been frightened before"
A courage and confidence nad now taken
possession of the little man, In strange con
trast to hls timidity and childlike manner of a
few minutes before. He was now aa he ap
peared In court, clothed with an austere
authority which gave him a vicarious strength
and dignity. The Judge had done hie work
well, and he was of those folk In the world
who are not content to do even the smallest
thing 111.
Arm In arm they passed into the garden
which fronted the vine-covered house where
Maltre Fille lived alone with hls sister, a tiny
edition of himself, who whispered and smiled
her way through life.
She smiled and whispered now in welcome
to the Judge, and as she did so, the three saw
Jean Jacques Barbllle, laughing, and crack
ing hls whip, drive past with his daughter be
side him, chirruping to the horses, while
distrait and looking into the distance, Carmen,
his wife, sat silent on the back seat of the red
wagon.
A keen observer would have seen in ths
glowing, unresthil look, In the hot cheek. In
the interlacing fingers, that a contest was
going on In the woman's soul, as she drove
homeward with all that was her own in the
world, save an old man for whom she had
married Jean Jacques to save him from misery,
and who was now at variance with her.
The laughter of the two grated painfully
on her ears.
Why should they be mtrthful While her life
was being swept by anger and the storm of
doubt, temptation, and dark passion? Why
was it!
Yet she smiled at Jean Jacques when he
lifted her down from the red wagon at the
door of the Manor Cartier, even though he
lifted his daughter down first.
Did she smile because she saw George
Masson In the distance by the flume, as they
came toward the Manor and In that moment
decided to keep her promise and meet him at
a Becluded point on the river-bank at sunset
after supper?
The full instalment of “The Money Mas
ter,” from which these interesting excerpts
are taken, will be found in the September
number of HEARST’S MAGAZINE.)