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■rr TW Science © llevri Fahre and His Wonderful Career Described and Outlined by Garrett P. Servtss A 'Kz'ds-JjT]Q£t&. By GARRETT P. SERV1SS. H 'IRE is a face better worth study ing than those of the multi millionaires, political bosses, lead er* of fashion and disturbers of peace whose countenances are so constantly before the public’s eye It ie the face of a man, 90 years old, who has devoted his whole life to the study of the manners customs, arts find ideas of the world's smallest inhab itants—the insects. ■ If you doubt whether insects have 1 ideas you have only to read some of the captivating books that Henri Fahre the man in the picture—has written in order to be convinced that if those lit tle creatures do not think they do something just as wonderful. “Do you say that these are small verities which the ways of a spider or a grasshopper reveal to us?" exclaims Maurice Maeterlinck, in his praise of Henri Fahre. “But there are no small verities. There is only one verity whose mirror seems to our Imperfect eyes, broken, but whose every fragment, whether It reflects the evolution of a star or the flight of a hee, conceals the law supreme!" In France, where they are erecting, at Avignon, a monument to Henri Fabre, as In ancient Egypt and ancient Rome they erected monuments to the Pha raohs and the Caesars, while they were yet living, they call him the modern Ha Fontaine- the La Fontaine of Science. Without depriving the lower world of life of any of its poetry, he has surrounded it with greater fascina tion of biography and history—the biog raphy of bees and ants, and the history of communities whose whole domains cover only a few square feet of ground! And these recitals are full of poetry ami imagination—guided by science. Until I you have reah some of them you can not Imagine how Interesting they are. It with reason that the French are now saying that the children of the future will read the true stories of Henri Fabre about Insect life as eagerly as hitherto children, and many grown people have read La Fontaine’s fables. Two Lessons. Fabre’s life teaches two great lessons: first, the lesson of concentration, and. second, the lesson that knowledge is not valuable to humanity unless it is com municated Shutting himself away from that part of the world which calls itself busy, and, until now, hardly known to the world at large, he has devoted his whole long life \o the singlo aim of leurning all that an observant man could learn about the millions of little six-legged beings which most of us either despise or detest. He stands alone, as on a pedestal, for it is generally conceded thgt he knows more about insects than any of his contemporaries pr any of his predecessors. Do you thihk that such knowledge is not worth acquiring? Then come back again a century hence, if you can. and see what the encyclopedias will be saying of him then. Thousands The Mistakes of Jennie .:. Bv " AL C0F ™ AN Being a Series of Chapters in the Life of a Southern Girl m the Big City (Trrm tti, n«m»n of Re^iiin vwrv.ao Furber 1 •mFlftt'.oti by Cepjrilaht«<L 1918. 07 a rrild. trftoalaUuu ani Henri Fabre at Work. of men whom you now regard as mon uments of "success" will have only a few lines devoted to them—if anything at all- while Henri Fahre will probably have columns. It is only by concentra tion that he has achieved this lasting fame. Ah to the second lesson that he teaches, we need only remark that he understands as few men of science do, that the wish of the entire world to know what its few original lnvestigtors are finding out Is a wish that must he respected and gratified for otherwise science is merely a thing of privilege, confined to a kind of Intellectual aris tocracy. Accordingly he has written his books in language which anybody can understand, and in a style whose beauty attracts tens of thousands of readers Most scientific writers can not free themselves from their technicalities; Henri Fabre has never forgotten that technicalities are only tools which have no place in the finished work. Has Not Suffered. Yet his science has not suffered from his popularization of it. Darwin, when he wrote his great book on the "Origin of Specie,” spoke with enthusiastic ad- miration of Henri Fabre as "the inimit able observer,” hut, at the same time, thousands of people who were not nat uralists were reading Fabre’s books with a zest which is too often confined to the consumption of novels, and his readers have increased every year since. Edmond Rostand, the playwright, has sung, in verse, no less enthusiastic than Maeterlinck’s tribute in prose the praise of Fabre’s wonderful charm as a writer. A SENTIMENTAL EPISODE A Short Story 1 - NOTICED her first in the lounge of the Splendid, and I smiled sympa thetically at the obvious devotion of the boyish young swain who bent ovar her chair. She was so slim and fresh, so charmingly Ingenue, that I had stopped involuntarily to stare, and was nearly knocked over by a burly man whose gaze was also fixed on the pretty ytoung thing He apologized, and I shook myself impatiently and went out and up the street. Fate and a taste for j mathematics have made of me a spinster Bchoolma’am. hut 1 have a throbbing mother-heart. I adore slim, pretty girls, yearn over them. As 1 went into Deere & Stone's I was thinking that, if I had been blessed with a daughter. I should have liked her to look Just like that- young, sweet and unspoiled. "Pardon me. niadame. but I believe this is yours." I turned and met the laughing eyes of the girl herself, holding out a fringed velvet bag. I look»<d in bewilderment at my empty arm. where my velvet hag had hung "Dear me, so it is,” I fussed "It's very kind of you. I'm sure " "I am so glad I found it.” She went on with a little laughing nod, and I was turning hack to the neckwear when I noticed the man who had nearly knocked me over at the Splendid entering the door. II flashed upon me instantly that he was following the girl, and I felt my face flushing with Indignation. Un hesitatingly I turned and went after him, with a sort of protective rage for the pretty child in my heart Saw Man Following. She was leaving the shop by a side street entrance, with the man a few yards behind, as I caught sight of them. I hurried breathlessly after, ready to mimmon an officer directly he ap- proacheo her But he seemed in no hurry to do so, and she took her leis urely way toward Husbarn, lingering now anil then before a shop window. I felt rather ridiculous as I took a seat in the tram opposite the brute, but determined to see the affair through. He sat in a corner on the same side as the girl, and 1 at once discovered that he was staring hard at her reflec tion in the window behind ma. With a fresh surge of protecting rage 1 crossed over and m»t down beside her. "My dear child, do you mind if I come over and talk to you?" 1 began. She raised her wide, sweet eyes to mine 'It’s lovely of you," said she, and there was a little quaver in her voice "You’ve seen that horrid man following me. haven’t you? Do you know him?" She seemed rather unnerved, 1 thought, and I regretted that I had not interfered before "Perhaps I shouldn’t alarm you,” I said, "but I saw him watching you at the Splendid—horrid creature! What a pitiful shame that a young girl's fresh ness should make her a target for such annoying attentions Smiled at Her Pride. "I do not mind being stared at so much," she saki plaintively, "hut this £tian ha s followed me before, and I live and sometime* I’m afraid—” *ty dear chikU" 1 onoo, honestly shocked. "Surely you have a home and parents- "Not in London," she Interrupted sim ply. "You see. I make fashion sketches. I am a bachelor girl." I smiled sadly at the pride in her voice. I'm 40, and I’ve "bached" it my self for fifteen years, and know all the realities of bachelor-girl life, it’s make shifts and depressions, as well as its in dependence She returned my smile a little wistfully, and her eyes crept fur tively townrd the man m the corner. "We’re sisters in the working world,” I suggested. "Why not come and have a cup of tea at my rooms, and Inciden tally we’ll lose the creature?" "It would be lovely." she agreed. But the brute followed us off. and I was about to appeal to a policeman when the girl took charge In a manner that astounded me. She boarded a crowded car. pushed her way to the top, ran down the front stairs, jumped off and into a vacant taxi at the curb. I followed, puffing, in her wake. As bachelor girls go, I'm prosperous enough, but I do not affect taxis, and I confess I was a hit awed. "But what address did you give the chauffeur?’* I demanded. "Mine is at the Seine Mansions." "Well,” she smiled wickedly, "I said the King's, hut I'll change it." She paid the chauffeur his robber’s fee. and we went up. "You live alone, too?" she asked. "Oh, hut I’m old and hardened and withered it doesn’t matter,” 1 ejacu lated. "but you— why " I looked up at her and hesitated She whs young and charming, but I was struck with a certain sophistica tion, a poise that I had missed be fore. "I’m young, hut, oh, so wise." She had thrown off her handsome 1 coat and stole and stood before a little Whistler that had cost me many a privation. "You know he can’t draw, of course?" she skid argumentatively, while I light ed the flame under my copper kettle. We threshed out Whistler’s art to shreds, and then we drifted to hooks. With the second cup of tea our dis cussion grew fiery. She was a Pagan —a cynical, soulless creature- that young, fresh, pure-faced thing, and she left me aghast at her daring. I showed her my three little rooms and kitchen ette proudly. She was charmingly In terested in everything, even the dumb waiter. Before we had returned to the living room the bell pealed vio lently. 1 answered it, annoyed that the hallboy should have let anyone up. Standing there, with a leering smile, was the brute. "I want to speak to the other one." he said, trying to peer over my shoul der. I smiled scornfully. "You are a brute, aren't you!” I said. "How dare you! 1 shall call the hall boy and have you put out ' ‘•Nothing doing, lady," he gazed at me shrewdly. "Do you know you’ve got a dip in there* 1 " "A dip,” I stared. "You’re crazy! What is a dip. please?" “A thief, lady. " he explained impa- ticM I I'p.-mng is at. he displayed * badge. "I'm a plain-clothes man. I let down the bar. "It’s absurd," I said shortly. "But you can come in and convince yourself.'' He followed me Into the living room, and I looked about In amazement— the girl had gone "Flown," said the detective briefly. "Is there another dbor?" I shook my head dumbly, and follow ed him as he examined the kitchenette. He jerked open the dumbwaiter door, and gazed down its black, ill-smelting shaft. Just a Diamond Pendant. "Roomy enough," he muttered. "She’s only a slip of a thing." "But how do you know?" I volun teered timidly. "W-what—did she—did —she ” He looked at me in open disgust "A diamond pendant—that’s all. I wanted to get the goods on her—bet she’s got 'em, too. but I ain’t so certain. My partner is watching her pal—he slipped It to her at the Splendid." I could only gape at him aghast, as he picked up his hat and started out. "She'Ti made her getaway by now, I reckon," he grumbled. "I didn't ex actly size you up, nor why she was stringing you." Then he stopped. "But would you mind telling me, lady, why you interfered* 1 " 1 flushed crimson. "1 thought you were trying -trying to speak to her," I stammered. With a half muttered ejaculation tie disappeared. Afterwards 1 looked distractedly about for my velvet hag. It was gone •with my purse and my mother’s watch! * • • It’s incredible, preposterous, tug I must believe it’s true This morning the hag came hack by messenger with its contents untouched. There was a note too. In a sprawling, girlish hand: "Dear Protector—You were awfully kind. Sorry I couldn't know you bet ter. 1 had to take the hag because, you see, the pendant was in it. I slipped it into your bag before I re turned the hag to you—for safe keep ing if the detectives picked me up. It was a close call, but I couldn’t lose the pendant. We—my husband, and I —are sailing to-morrow for a long rest. Good-by." And for once I am glad I never had a daughter. iCowrUht*!, 1HS, bj IHmutloM. N,»i Mrta.* TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. "How did you know that?" he asked quickly, and then, recollecting: "But I would love to hear you sing, Miss Lloyd." "That’s very nice,” she teased. "On the ground, I suppose, the singer would make up for the song." "Undoubtedly," he agreed heartily. Mr Lloyd came into the conversation at this point. "Ho you don’t like music, Mr. Allan?" "I’m afraid if I am compelled to an swer under oath 1 should have to say that I atn not partial to It,” he con fessed with a laugh. "I suppose some thing was left out of me—I'm fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils, and nothing else." "M Shakespeare was a trifle harsh, I think,” commented Mr. Lloyd, grave ly. "But he was on tfie right track. I jack of appreciation for music, as I take it, is not due necessarily to a lack of moral fiber in a man It’s generally because his mind is too active to relax, even for a moment. You, in your case, have to think—you don’t need music. Up until the last few years it was much the same with me. I could sit through a concert, but the music had no mes sage for me. It is only when we reach the age where we can afford the luxury of aimless dreams that musfic makes its true appeal." "Envy me," laughed Ethel. “It’s a luxury that I could afford from child hood." "True,” her father smiled, "but you miss an even greater luxury." And he offered for Allan’s inspection the con tent* of a humidor, the stocking of which had come to a trifle less than $1,000. The Tunnel Again. Ethel sang a light little song, and at its conclusion her lather turner! abrupt ly to Allan and began talking about the tunnel. Allan gathered from his manner that he and his daughter had discussed the possible future moves in the great proj ect with even greater fullness than she had indicated. But he rather ex pected her to withdraw as soon as her father took this tack. Probably she was waiting for a graceful opening Allan swiftly went over the figures that he had been working on for the past months, and father and daughter listened in silence. He had every de tail at his finger'tips, and he talked easily and convincingly. "I fully agree with you. Mr. Allan," said the financier, at the conclusion of the report, "that we should resume work as soon as it ia humanly possible by that I mean work on the full scale. I still hold to my original object that half-measures would weaken rather than strengthen public confidence." "There is a German company trying, with some success, I believe, to raise funds for a trans-Atlantic air line," remarked Allan, meaningly. The old banker nodded emphatically. "Quite so—quite so. Everything points to the fact that we must begin work at once—or abandon the enter prise for all time. And this involves a financial sacrifice that appals me." "You mean the abandoning of the work?” "Precisely. For a long time I have believed that that alternative must no.t be considered." It was in Allan’s mind to say that Mr Lloyd had managed to keep the conclusion to himself with remarkable success, but he wisely refrained. In stead he declared boldly: "Give me the right to use your name and personal credit, Mr Lloyd, an-; I’ll begin work to-omorrow night." Again the financier nodded and Al lan’s heart bounded with exultation. "I have had something of the sort in mind for some time, my boy," he said "When you decided to play the hermit —and even before that time—I had thought some of making the venture, or at least talking it over with you, but Ethel here " He broke off with with a teasing laugh. Allan started and looked quickly at the girl. She flushed a deep red. "Don’t pay any attention to father’s jokes, Mr. Allan," she pleaded. Allan laughed and murmured some thing inconsequential. His thoughts were whirling. Ethel had given him the impression that she had won her father over to her way of thinking, and her father had certainly inplied that she? had caused him to withhold the hell that Allan needed. A suspicion, which else in the world. A suspicionfl which his lack of a certain kind of egoism caused him to reject, flashed inV> his mind. He could not explain Ethel’s embarrassment or fathom her motives in that Instant, and the conversation took on a strained note which even Mr. Lloyd detected. A T last Ethel made some excuse to withdraw and when she had gone her father turned to Allan with an apologetio smile. "I’m probably in for a scene with Ethel," he said whimsically. "I’m al most tempted to keep you here indef initely as a protection, Mr. Allan. She is really your ally, Mr. Allan, but she has some pride in her okf father, and she did not think that all of the ad vances ought to come from our side." Allan laughed and said that he un derstood; but a short time later he took his leave. Nothing definite was fixed In the course of the conversation, and he agreed to come again within the week and have a more detailed talk over prospective ways and means. Allan walked to his hotel, his mind working busily to arrive at some ex planation of the strange little incident. Ethel was his ally, her father had said. He had gathered the same impression from her attitude toward him since his return from Europe. But she had told her father, when he was willing to start the financial ball rolling once more, that all of the advances should not come from the Lloyd side. On top of which she had taken the trouble to come to Tunnel City, waylay him and drag him into an interview, in the face of his former rudeness. One Clear Thing. One thing, at least, was clear through all of it. Ethel wanted him to think that if the tunnel enterprise were re habilitated he would have her to thank for it—her and no one else. But why? Allan flushed In the darkness of the winter night and felt uncomfortable at the mere thought that came back to him for the second time. He was not vain of his power to attract women—he didn’t know that he had any such power. He would have been surprised and embar rassed to learn it. And yet—what game was Ethel Lloyd playing if not a game of hearts? Why should she advise her father to withhold offers of aid and then put her pride in her pocket and come to Tunnel City to persuade Allan that with him on her side her father could be in duced to give aid if it were asked? At any rate, it behooved him, he told himself, to walk with circumspection until he could see the motives and moves more clearly than at present. But there did not seem to be any pos sibility of clearer vision in the near fu ture. When he went to the Lloyd’s the next time Ethel was out ami her father talked evasively of the tunnel plans. There was much to be considered—af fairs had taken a new turn— he would have to weigh things a little more care fully. Allan left without the semblance of a definite assurance of new backing. Once more despair was reaching out for him. To Be Continued Monday, Jennie Made a Brave Attempt at Smoking a Cigarette. . Chapter 29. J ENNIE looked around the cabin of the yacht in open-eyed wonder, for she never, never, saw anything bo cozy and luxurious. The young man pressed an electric button and a Chi nese boy in white coat and apron appeared, and the young man told him to bring drinks and cigars, which he did as if by magic. Jennie asked the young man if he was on his vacation and where he ever got such a beautiful boat. To which the young man shrugged his shoulders and laughingly said he had “been on a vacation ever since he had been bom,” his father had given him the boat, and the hardest work he did was navigating her from one country to another. That it was getting nearly time for him to go down to Florida and the south coast for the Win ter, but he hated to go alone, and said to Jennie in an apparently joking way: "Wouldn't you like to go along? That stateroom you see there. through the open door, can be yours”—it was th* one Jennie had first noticed, all done up in pink and white—“and we could have a bully time.” About this time the Chinese boy appeared with more drinks, and Jennie made a brave attempt at smoking a cigarette, but It was useless, for the smoke choked her and she couldn't get to like it a bit. Jennie at last realized that she MUST get home. She told the young man how sick her mother was, and he was as sympathetic and polite as could be and gave an order to one of his crew to have the launch got ready at once to go ashore. After helping her onto the dock and bidding her good-bye until the next day, Jennie walked on home to the poor, simple little cottage Tom had hired* for her and her mother. "Oh, why, why couldn't I marry a man like that?” Jennie kept saying over to herself. —HAL COFFMAN. (To be continued.) Advice to the Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. He's Happy in the Summer. “Please help a poor fellow wot can’t work at his trade on account of the weather!” whined the tramp. "Here's a dime," said the charitable lady. "How does the weather interfere with your work?” "Thanks, lady. Yer see. I’m a pick pocket, an’ the cold weather makes everybody keep their hands in their pockets." AN AWFUL NIGHT A Thrilling Adventure Story A Hint. Mr Spriggins (gently)—My dear, a friend of mine was shot at by a bur glar. and his life was saved by a but ton which the bullet struck.” Mrs. Spriggins—Well, what of Mr. Sprigging Nothing, only the but- iaus must have been on. TO A CERTAIN DEGREE. Dear Miss Fairfax: I am a young; man 17 years of age and in love with a girl of 16. 1 have known and loved this girl three years. My parents like her and her parents, as far as I un derstand, like me. What I want to know is, are wo old enough to keep company, for I love her dearly. PERPLEXED. Your fidelity for three years, and the approval of all concerned entitled you to greater privileges than your years deserve. Keep company with her to this extent: Be her best friend, her chum, her big brother, until you are old enough to talk love seriously. TRY TO FORGET HIM. Dear Miss Fairfax: I am 18 and in loro with a man eight years my senior. He is Jewish and 1 am not. He wants me to marry him. 1 agreed, but he wants me to turn Jewh&t and neither my mother nor I like that. So that • parted us. He doesn’t want to marry me unless I turn Jewish. I love him dearly. HEARTBROKEN. The difference in religious belief is too serious to be dismissed lightly, and this, with your mother’s objec tions, and your youth, furnish rea sons why you should try to forget him. Moreover, my dear, isn’t it a little selfish in him demanding that you make the sacrifice of religious belief? Why. if he really wants you, does he not make it? CERTAINLY. Dear Miss Fairfax: For many years I have been great friends with a certain young lady. She is about to celebrate her birthday and we have not been speaking to each other for a short time. I w ish to inquiry- whether or not it is' proper for P,*>. to^end her a 1 f sent her one whenever she cele brated her birthday. FLORENCE. Send her a card by all means; but before you send it be sure you are the friend its sentiments would indi cate. And, my dear young woman, you will not be that friend unless •you can lay aside all differences and be on speaking terms again. Jobshaw’s Game. Jobshaw was taking a friend for a spin in the second-hand motor he had picked up at such an absurdly low fig ure when something went wrong with the works and the car stopped dead. He dived under the machine and dis covered among other defects that two nuts had jolted off during the journey. "It’s only a mile to the nearest town, old man," said the apologetic owner of the car. "If you wouldn't mind walk ing there and get a couple of half-inch nuts from the iron-monger. I can put the other things right by the time you get back." And for the next half hour Jobshaw was tinkering and tapping away beneath the car; then he started to wonder why his friend had not re turned. Presently he heard footsteps. "That you, Lorkins?” he inquired "6-s-sb!” came the reply from a bucol ic-looking gentleman who peered at Job shaw under the car " E come back ten minutes ago. I told ’im you’d gone across that there field yonder. ’E’s a-clamberin’ through ’edges an’ ditches looking arter yer Keep quiet, an’ ’e won t find yer for hours, guv’nor." "What on earth do you mean?” bel lowed Jobshaw. as he wriggled into sight. “I’ve been waiting for him. you Idiot. I can’t fixe the car up until he gets here " "Want ’lm, do yer?” exclaimed the surprised countryman. "Why. I thought I was ’elpin’ yer, guv’nor. Seein’ where you’d tucked yourself away. I reckoned you wos avin’ a game o’ Mde an’ seek!" Littiiday ami,'* Funeral Designs and Flowers FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Atlanta Floral Company 4M EAST FAIR STREET. I T was in Santos that the awful night’s experience happened. The Brazilian s»eaport was visited by the yellow fever horror; all around and about us ships were dally losing members of their crews. Eight o’clock In the morning would see an officer walk smilingly along to re port that the night had been passed in safety; 10 might well find half the forecastle complement writhing in agony the most fearful. My little cabin was stifling; It was necoroary to keep the ports firmly closed to prevent the noxious vapors of the river from penetrating every where. The night was close, not a breath of wind stirred. There was hardly a sound save for the slow, choking gurgle of the water past our sides; and the stillness made the ten sion unbearable. I rose to my feet, threw on a light jacket and went on deck. It was almost as bad here, for a thin, clammy vapor was rising from the water. The moon was near its setting; it threw ghastly gleams through the mist and made the ships at anchor off the shore look like rot ting corpses. "This is getting unholy,” I said to myself. "I’ll take a rur ashore and try to throw off the obsession.” 1 had the ship’s boat lowered and pulled across to the quay-side. Then I made a hurried progress through the sleeping town, and started to climb a steep hill that ran up toward $ao Paulo. Climbed Faster. Gradually the beauty of the night, the declining moon lining clear in a sea of purple, the rustling trees tbout me and the appearance of the half- se^n, mist-shrouded water, bred a kino of intoxication in my veins. I climbed faster than before; reached a level plateau, went on with a rol licking laugh, and chased my own shadow as cheerfully as any child. Then, as the moon sank from view. I plunged recklessly Into a small brake or copse of trees, stumbled forward, felt my feet break through the ground, clutched frenziedly at thin air. and found myself falling down like a stone. Instinctly I threw out my hands to seek some holding, but found none Down I went, down and down, and the blood sang a mad chorus of spite in my dinning ears. It seemed as It the depths of this pitfall were inter minable; I clawed once at the sheer side, my fingers close on £ friable earth, I seemed to rebound somewhat, and continued my descent. I methodi cally threw out my arms again, felt my body brush something that rustled, clutched with the frantic en ergy of a madman at something that slid painfully through my fingers tightened my clutch and found myself brought up with a shock that seemed to wrench my arms from their sockets. There I hung at arm’s length, gasp ing feebly, quite unable to realize what had happened. Dimly I seemed to know that I had been saved, but the problem that slowly presente I Itself to my understanding was: Saved for how long? All around and about was darkness like that of a grave. Scarcely a thing moved, save that now and then a little trickle of loosened earth seemed to run down ward. The rumble of the falling soil died away into a diminuendo, and 1 shuddered as I clung to the provi dential branch, for It seemed to me that the depths reached inimitably below me. A Strong Man. I felt my strength ebbing away from me like a river's tide; I renewed my tenacious clasp, but knew that with the crackling tendons on my wrists weakening every moment, it was only prolonging the agony and postponing the inevitable end. But with a quick Instinct for life, I reached down one foot as far as It would go. seeking for some other holding, only to find the toe of my shoe kicking aimlessly about in the thin air. Now I shouted aloud, shouted 1n a voice that seemed to my inflamed senses, to carry right away down the hillside to the very ship. Only the dull echoes came back to me mockingly. Again and again I yelled, until my throat was parched and smarting. When I had grown sick and incapable of shouting more I resigned myself to death. But I was not thirty, and the de sire for life was strong in my soul. I would not die. I grated it out a dozen times-^'es, even though I felt my hands slowly numbing and the black ened blood pulsing like a sledge hammer beat in my temples. I would struggle until the last ounce of my strength was exhausted. Now I reckon I must have been hanging to the branch for something over two hours by this, and I .defy anybody, even the stoutest athlete, to draw himself up chin high to a hori zontal bar after hanging suspended for one-half the time. But I did it, uneasily enough, but with many pantings and strugglings, but I did it. I was a strong man, and the love of life added to my strength. Then I had a happy Inspiration, I wore a stout leather belt about my waist; by dint of much wriggling I was able to loosen it, and swing clear. QHICHESTER S PILLS . TnK 1MAMOMD BRA.Ml A l.mA i.. ’ i.L . ; A Lsrflf*! Ask >. Cbl.chM.trr>* I nil, la bo*e*, sealed t T»k« ». .ther. IlVj »r .oar ' A,, forCIII.ClIXS-TFlK'* '!*»"'» Brand PILLS. (Sic years ln..n as Beit.Safe.t, Al-ays Reliable SOLD BV DRUGGISTS EVEKYKHFIK Adv. BIRMINGHAM EXCUR SION ROUND TRIP $2.50. | Special train leaves Old. Depot September 22. Re turn on regular trains., SEABOARD. j CARS WITH ALA CARTE SERVICE TO CINCINNATI & LOUISVILLE i.p 1 i n \ t*T / i *■ f 1» □ Working strenuously, mv teeth assist ing my free hand. I managed to bind the arm that was over the branch to the branch itself. Then I counted myself safe. No matter if my strength failed me I should not fail. And I prayed that some succor might ap pear when morning came. Then I must have lost conscious ness for a while, for my recollections of the ensuing time are hazy in the extreme. I awoke at last chilled to the bone, and a feeling as of gnawing teeth in my upper arm where the strap held me safely. I was wholly worn-out, but my first instinct was to oast my aching eyes above. Then I saw r something that brought my heart to my mouth again. A faint greyness show-ed in the sky; I could see it through the interlacing branches overhead. I saw then that my conceptions of the distance I had fallen were altogether at fault. X could not have descended more than forty feet before I struck a branch, but that hardly altered the terrible circumstances of the case. How was I to climb up again to safety? I gritted my teeth when the thought came to me. and looked downward. All was still dark, but the light was gradually filling the upper spaces. At last the radiant daylight clothed me where I hung; it traveled dow'nward. And within ten minutes more I saw what I saw. When X had been hanging at the greatest strength of my arms the floor of the pit was barely tw»o feet away from my toes; good, oound earth! If I had released my holding I should have been perfectly safe. But there Is a lock of white hair above mv left ear to show w'hat that night of horror spe't for me. The Stranger. A stranger knocked at a man*B door and told him of a fortune to be made. “Urn," said the man. "It appears that considerable effort will be in volved.” “Oh. yea,” said the stranger; “you will pass many sleepless nights and toilsome days.** “Urn,” said the man, "and who ars you ?” “I am called Opportunity.” "Urn,” said the man, "you call voui»- self Opportunity, but you look Ilk* Hard Work to me.” And he slammed the door. *\ CHANGE Suburban Schedule Central of Georgia Railway Effective September 14, suburban train No. 108 will leave Atlanta 6:16 p. m. instead of 6:10 p. m. Arrive Jonesboro 7:15 p. m.