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Science
Henri fabre and His Wonderful Career Described
and Outlined by Garrett P. Serviss
By GARRETT P. SERVISS j
H CRE Is a face better worth study
ing than those of the inulti- ,
millionaires, political bosses, lead j
ers of fashion and disturbers of peac i
whose countenances are so constants I
before the public's eye.
It is the face of a man, *.K> years
old, who has devoted his whole life t*>
the study of the manners customs arts j
and ideas of the world’s smallest Inhab ;
itants—the insects.
If you doubt whether Insects have '
idaas you have only to rca<] some of the
captivating books that llenrl Fabre
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 th«- ways of a spider or
a grasshopper reveal to us?" exclaims
Maurice Maeterlinck, In his praise of
Henri Kabre "But there are no small
verities. There is only one verity whose
mirror seems to our Imperfect «yes,
broken, but whose every fragment,
whether It reflects the evolution of a
star or the flight of a bee, conceals th*-
taw supreme!
In France, where they are erecting, at
Avignon, a monument to Henri Kabre,
as in ancient Egypt and ancient Rome
they erected monuments to the Pha
raohs and the Caesars, while they wei
yet living, they call him the modern
1a Fontaine —the La Fontaine of
• Science. Without depriving the lower
world of life of any of its poetry, lit
has surrounded It with greater fascina
tion of biography and history- the hi«»p
raphy of bees and ants, and the hlitorv
of communities whose, whole domain
cover only a few square feet 6f ground!
And these recitals are full of poetry and
Imagination—guided by science Until
you have read soina of them you can
not imagine how interesting they are H
Is with reason that the French are no •
saying that the children of the futur
will read the true stories of Henri Kabr
about Insect life as eagerly as hitherb
children, and many grown people, have
rasd Tai Fontaine's fables.
Two Lessons
Kabre’s life teaches two great lessons,
first. the lesson of concentration, and,
saeond, the lesson that knowledge is not
valuable to humanity unless it is com
municated
Shutting himself away from that part
of the world which culls itself busy, and,
until now», hardly known to the world
at large, he has devoted Ids whole
long life to the single aim of learning
all that an observant man could learn
about the millions of little six-legged
beings which moat of us either despise
or detest. He stands alone, as on a
pedestal, for It is generally conceded
that he knows more about insects than
any of his contemporaries or any of his
predecessors. Do you think that such
knowledge Ih not worth acquiring? Then
come hack again a century hence. If you
car, and see what the encyclopedias
will be saving of him then Thousands
The Mistakes ot Jennie b L. hal - cop Z man
Being a Series of Chapters tn the late <d a Southern Girl tn the Big City
rrnm «w bw-M *51™!!*'* a
Orrmati voratn# * *11. Of •
?■„<*«, •«*
mv-tlst'**® hf
Henri F.tD.e at Work.
of men whom you now regard as mon
uments of ‘‘success" will have only u
few lines devoted to them if anything
at all while Henri Fabre 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, hm fow men of science do,
that the wish of the entire world to
know what it« few original investigtorrf
are finding out in a wish that must be
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 hooks in language which anybody
can understand, and in a style whose
beauty attracts tens of thousands of
readers.
Most scientific writers can not tree
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.
Vet his science has not suffered from
hie popularisation 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 lees enthusiastic
than Maeterlinck's tribute tn prose the
praise of Fabre’s wonderful charm as
a writer
A SENTIMENTAL EPISODE
A Short Storv
1 NOTICED her first in the lounge of
the Splendid, and 1 smiled sympa
thetic-ally at the obvious devotion of
the boyish young swain who bent over
her chair, f^he was so slim and fresh,
so charmingl> ingenue, that I had
stopp'd involuntarib to stare, and was
nearly knocked over l»> a burly man
whose gate was also filed on the pretty
young thing He apologized, and I
ehonk myself impatiently and went out
shocked. “Surely you have a home and
parente —"
"Not in London," she interrupted sim
ply ‘‘You p«*e. I make fashion sketches.
I am a bachelor girl."
1 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 felie returned my smile a
arm up the street. Fate and a taste for t Utile wistfully, and her eyes crept fur
mathematics have made of me a spinster
scboolma'em. but I have a throbbing
mother-heart. 1 adore slim, pretty girls,
yearn over them. As I went into Deere
/k Stone's I was thinking that, if l had
beer; blessed with a daughter. 1 should
have liked her to look just like that
young. “W«jet and uitfip' lied
"Pardon me. madame. but 1 believe
this is yours." 1 turned and met the
laughing eyes of viic girl herself, holding
out u fringed velvet bag. I looked in
bewilderment ut my empty arm
my velvet bag had hung
“Dear me. so it is," I fussed
very kind ot you. I’m sure."
“1 gm so glad I found it." She went
on with a little laughing nod. and I was
turning back to the neckwear when 1
noticed the man v h<> had nearl> knock*'
where
•It's
tlvely toward the man In 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
thai astounded me. She boarded a
crowded car. pushed her way to the top,
ran down the front stairs, jumped off
und into a vacant taxi at the curb. I
followed, puffing, in her wake.
As bachelor girls go. I’m prosperous
enough, but 1 do not affaet taxis, and I
I confess I was a bit awed.
| "But what address d!d you give the
j chauffeur?" I demanded. "Mine is at
1 the Seine Mansions "
me over at the Splendid entering the j “Well," she smiled wickedly, "l said
door. It flashed upon me instantly tba' j the King’s, but I’ll change It.
he was following the girl, and I felt j
rr>y race flushing with indignation. IJn- j
hesitatingly I turned and went after j
him. with a sort ot protective rage for i
the pre: . child in my heart
Saw Man Following
She was leaving the shop b> a side
*tret: entrance, with the man a few
ygrds behind, as 1 caught sight of them
I hurried breathlessly after, ready to
summon An officer* directly he ap
proached her. But he seemed in no
hurry to do no, and she took her leis
urely way toward Husbarn. lingering
now and then before a .shop window. 1
felt Yather ridiculous 3 1 took a *eat
in the tram opposite the brute, but
determined to see i ts tffair through
He sat in a corner on the same side
as the girl, ano 1 at once discovered
that tie was staring hard at her reflec
tion in the window behind me With a
fresh surge ot protecting rage 1 crossed
over and sat down beside her
"My dear hilo, do you mit:«i if 1
mum over and tail; to you? 1 began
She raised her wide, swet eyes to
mine
“It’s lovely of you.’* saki she and
there was a little quaver n i '-r • i.
"You’ve seen tnar horrid man following
ith, haven’t you. Do you know mm "
She paid
fee, and wc
"You live alum
"Oli, but
withered—li
lated. "but
1 looked
the chauffeur his robber’s
went up. •
too?” she asked
I’m old and hardened and
doesn't matter," 1 ejacu-
y 011- w h y “ -
glit seemed rather unnerved, I thought. , was the brute
up at hep and hesitated.
She was young and charming, but 1
was struck with a certain sophistica
tion, a poise thut I had missed be
fore.
"I’m young but, oh, so wise." She
l ad thrown off her handsome coat and
stole und stood before a little Whistler
that had cost me many a privation.
"You know he cun t draw of course?"
bhe said argumentatively, while 1 light
ed the flame under my copper kettle.
We threshed out Whistler’s art to
shreds, and then we drifted to books.
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 1 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
lent!'. 1 answered it, annoyed that the
hullboN should have let anyone up.
Standing then with a leering smile,
and I regretted that I had rot intet
before
"Perhaps I shouldn't aiarn -u.
N&id. "but I saw him matching you u
the Splendid- horrid creature! What 1
pitiful shame that a young gir s fresh
Bese should make her a !<«' .-i.i 1
anno'ing attentions "
Smiled at Her Pride.
“I do not mind being ijtare*. at &
much, she said plaintively
man has followed me before, i \
all alone, and aottietlreee I’m airuu
"My oear child' I eriec honeatb
I want to speak to the other ope."
he said, trying to peer over my shoul
der
1 smiled scornfully. "You are a brute,
aren’t you*" 1 said "How dare you!
1 shall cull the hall boy and have you
put out."
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 1 looked about in amazement—
the girl had gone
"Flown,” Hald the detective briefly.
“Is there another door?"
1 shook my head dumbly and follow
ed him as he examined the kitchenette.
He jerked open the dumbwaiter door,
and gazed down its black, 111-snielilng
shuft.
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 hut and started out.
"She’s 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 flushed crimson. "1 thought you were
trying -trying to speak to her," I
stammered.
With a half muttered ejaculation he
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, big I
must believe it's trae. This morning
the bag came back 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 bag because,
you see. the pendant was in it. I
slipped it into your bag before I re
turned the bag 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 suiling to-morrow for a long rest
Good-by."
And for once 1 am glad l never had
n daughter.
(C'.wrtaAtei. Ittfc ky leWrsaP«*4J Wtm
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
"How did you know that?" he asked
quickly, and then, recollecting: "But I
would love to hear you aing. Miss
Lloyd."
'That’s very nies," she teased. “On
th*' 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 1 an. compelled to an
swer under oath I should have to Hay
that I am 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 wu* a trifle harsh,
I think," commented Mr Lloyd, grave
ly. “But he was on tfTe right track.
I,ack of appreciation for music, oh 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 **ase,
have to think—you don't need music.
Up until the laat few years It waa 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 roach
the age where we can afford the luxury
of aimless dream® that music 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
tents of a humidor, the stocking of
which had come to a trifle less than
$1,060.
The Tunnel Again.
Ethel sang » light Httle song, ar.<i at
IU eonduiion her father turned abrupt
ly to Allan and began talking about the
tunnel
Allan gathered from his manner that
lie and hi* daughter had discussed the
possible future moves in the great proj
ect with even greater fullness than
she had indicated. But he rat bar ex
pected her to withdraw ae 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
paet months, and father end 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 conoluslon of
the report, "that we should resume
work as soon as it it 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 nuccess. 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 mo."
"You mean the abandoning of the
work?*’
"Precisely For a long time I have
believed that that alternative must nett
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, and
I’ll begin work to-omorrow night."
Again the financier nodded and Al
lan’s heart hounded with exultation.
"I have had something of the aori 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 starter! 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 t-» her way of thinking, and
her father had certainly lnplied that
she had caused him to withhold the help
that Allan nee.den. A suspicion, which
else in the world. A suspicion ft which
his lack of a certain kind of egoism
caused him to reject, flashed into his
mind. Ho could not explain Ethel’s
embarrassment or fathom her motives
In that Instant, and the conversation
took on a strainer! 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
apologetic smile.
"I’m probably ig for a seen© 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 old father, and
she did not think that all of th© ad
vances ought to come from our side."
Allan laughed and said rhat he un
derstood; but a short time later he
took his loatc. 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 <#nce 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 ami drag
him into an interview, in the face of
his former rudeness
One Clear Thing.
One thing, at least, was clear through
ail of it. Kthel 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 lo 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 coijld 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 and her father
talked evasively of the tunnel plans.
There was much to be considered—af
fairs bad taken a new- turn—he would
have to w^lgh things a little more care
fully. Allan left without Ihe 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,
»aw anything so 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. .Tennie 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 born,” 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 tp 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 the
one Jennie had Brst noticed, all done up in pink
and white—“and we could have a bully tim#.’’
About this time the Chinese boy appeared witu
more drinks, and Jennie made a brave attempt a.
smoking a cigarette, but 1t was useless, for the
smoke choked her and she couldn’t get to Ilka it
a bit. Jennie at last realized that she MI’S I’ go.
home.
She told the young man how sick her inothe
was, and he was as sympathetic and polite as
could be and gave an older 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 or
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.)
| AN AWFUL NIGHT
A Thrilling Advert tare Story
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
He's Happy in tbe Summer.
"P ©as© help a poor fellow wot can’t
work at his trade on account of fhe
weather!" whined the tramp
"Here's a dims, said the charitable
lady. "How does the weathar Interfere
with your work?"
"Thanks. ladj Yer see, I’m a pick
pocket. an the cold weather makes
everybody keep their hands In their
pockets."
"Nothin,
ht
gazed
A Hint.
-«ll>
ou km
c explained hnpu :
coat, he di6playot:
lain-clothe© mar
M Spnpgins gently > M> near, a
I trmnd >f mtn« was Shot at by a bur-
[ glar. and his life was saved by a but-
I ton which the bullet struck."
Mrs. ^prlgyins Well, what of it?
Mr Songgins Nothing onlv the but-
:eiifc mast have been on
TO A CERTAIN DEGREE
Dear Mies Fairfax:
I am a young man 17 years of
age and in love with a girl of J6.
I have known and loved this grirl
three years. My parents like her
and her parents, as far as I un
derstand, like me. What I want
to know ia, are we 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 beat 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 love with a man
• years my senior.
Tic is Jewish and I am not. He
wants me to marry him I agreed,
but he wants me to turn Jewislt
and neither my mother nor I like
that. So that parted us. He
doesn’t want to marry me unless
1 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.
1 wish to inquire whether or not
it is proper for me to send her a
wirthday card, ac I have aiwayt
sept 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.
JobBhaw 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 wtong 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 mah." said the apologetic owner of
the ear. "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 tim© 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 inquire*}
"B-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«
a-clamberin through edges an’ ditches
looking arter yer Keen quiet, an’ ’e
won't find yer for hours, gux'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 ’im, do yer? ' exclaimed the
surprised countryman. "Why, I thought
1 was elpin’ yer. guv’nor. Seem' where
you'd tucked yourself away, I reckoned
you wos ’avir’ a game o' ’ide an' seek!"
I T was in Bantos that the awful
night’s experience happened. The
Brazilian aeaport 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
off! or walk smilingly along to re
port that the night had been passed
in safety; 10 might well And half the
forecastle complement writhing in
affony the most fearful.
My little cabin was stifling; It was
necessary to keep the ports firmly
closed to prevent the noxious vapors
of the river from penetrating every
where. The night was close, notVi
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 run ashore and
try to throw off the obsession.” J
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 htll that ran up toward
£?ao Paulo.
Climbed Faster.
Gradually the beauty of the night,
the declining moon shining clear in a
sea of purple, the rustling trees tbout
me and the appearance of the half-
seen, mist-shrouded w'ater, bred a
kind 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 faliing down
like a stone.
Inetinetly 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 av If
the depths of this pitfall were inter
minable; I clawed once at the sheer
side, my fingers close on a 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 thar
slid painfully through my fingers
tightened my clutch and found mv self
brought up with a shock that seerneu
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
in© problem that slowly pres'entel
itself to my understanding was:
Saved for how long? All around and
about v n3 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 tenacio’us 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 in a
voice that seemed to my inflamed
senses, to carry right away down the
hillside to the very ship. Only the dul]
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 1 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—yes. 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, ro
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 lea* her belt about my
wa’st: b» dint of much wriggling 1
was able to loosen it. and swing clear.
Funeral Designs and Flowers
FOR ALL OCCASIONS.
Atlanta Floral Company
1ft* EAST FAIR STREET
BIRMINGHAM EXCUR
SION ROUND TRIP $2.50.
Special train leaves Old
Depot September 22. Re
turn on reguiar trains.
SEABOARD.
QHICHESTER S PILLS
✓-CN. . UIK niAMOND BKANI, V*
' $
ir v
Working strenuously, my teeth assist
ing my free hand. I managed to bin
the arm that wa, over the branch t
the branch itself. Then I eounte
myself safe. No matter if my strengt
failed me I should not fall. And
prayed that some succor might ap
pear when morning came
Then I must have lost conscious
ne&s for a while, for my recollection
of the ensuing time are hazv In th
extreme. I awoke at last chilled t
the bone, and a feeling as of gnawin
teeth in my upper arm where th
strap held me safely. I was who!!
worn-out. but my first instinct wa
to cast my aching eyes above. The
I saw something that brought m
heart to my mouth again. A fair
grtyness showed In the sky; I coul
see it through the interlacin
branches overhead. I saw then tha
my conceptions of the distance I ha
fallen were altogether at fault,
could not have descended more tha
forty feet before I struck a brand
but that hardly altered the terribl
circumstances of the case. How wa
I to climb up again to safety?
I gritted my teeth when th
thought came to me, and looke
downward. All was still dark be
the light was gradually filling th
upper spaces. At -ast the radiar
daylight clothed me where I hung; i
traveled downward. And within te
minutes more I saw what I saw.
When I hac been hanging at th
greatest strength of my arms the floe
of the pit was barely two feet awa
from my toes; good, sound earth! ]
I had released my holding I ehoul
have been perfectly safe. But ther
is a lock of white hair above my lei
ear to show what that night of horro
spelt for me.
The Stranger.
A stranger knocked at a ms
door and told him of a fortune to
made.
“Urn," said the man. "It appe
that considerable effort will be
volved.”
"Oh, yea," said the stranger;
will pass many sleepless nights i
toilsome days."
“Um,” said the man, "and who
you ?"
‘‘l am called Opportunity.”
"Um." said the man, "you call yo
self Opportunity, but you look 1
Hard JVork to me."
And he slammed the door..
. -UK ’MAMOND BRAND.
Ladiec* Aak j«itr D-uk£|«i foe
1 Ilia in K*d and £oid irrtmliic
boxes, seised with Blue Ribbon.
lake no other. Bny «f.g ir
.V" "® liny of ▼»_.
niVH<l\T» ilRAND HILLS,
L"?" n _ aLS Rest ’ r,afest - Mways Reliable
years known as *est. Safest. *!wtvs Reliabli
SOIDCV DRUGGISTS EVERYWHFP r
CHANGE
Suburban Schedule
Central of Georgia
Railway
Effective September 14. auburton*
train No. 108 will leave Atlanta 6:16
p. m. instead of 6:10 p. m. Arrive
Jonesboro 7:15 p. m. AdT.
CARS
WITH A’LA CARTE SERVICE
TO CINCINNATI & LOUISVILLE