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Science @ Henri i'abre ami His Wonderful Career Described and Outlined by Garrett P. Serviss By GARRETT P. SERVISS better wo h stud}- multi* •s, lead- Hiolc life tu j uMtomw. arts . itiall- ^t inhab- ! H IRE is a fa< lng than those of millionaire-*, political b< ere of fashion and disturber whose countenances ar» before the public's eye It is the face of a an old. who has devoted b - ^ the study of the manners and ideas of the vorld’s Hants—the insect!- If you doubt whether insects have ideas you have only to rea<i some of the captivating books that Henri Fabre the man in the picture has written in order to be convinced that if these lit tle creatures do not think they do something just as wonderful. *T>o you say that these are small verities which the ways of a spider or a grasshopper reveal to us?” exclaims Maurice Maeterlinck, In hie praise of Henri Fabre. "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 bee. conceals the law .supreme' In France, where they are erecting, at Avignon, a monument to Henri Fabr- as In ancient Egypt and ancient Rome they erected monuments to the I’hn raohs and the Caesars, while they were yet living, they call him the modern La 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 blog raphy of bees and ants, and the histor of communities whose whole domain cover only a few square feet of ground' And these recitals are full of poetry and Imagination—guided by science. Until , you have read some of them you can not imagine how Interesting they arc It is with reason that the French are now aayfmg that the children of the future wtll read the true stories of Henri Fabr* about insect life as eagerly as hitherl children, and many grown people have raad La Fontaine’s fables Two Lessons. Fabre’s life teaches two great lessons, first. the leason of concentration, and, Hocond. 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 to the single aim of learning 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, an 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 Huch 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 By HAL coffman Being a Series of Chapters in the Ldte of a Southern Girl in the Big City Tr~m «»• '»«*“* '**y?lT* v«tM. iwut roBBrilbt'ca Oy ah WwJsWttoe Henn i-AD.e 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 Fabre will probably have columns, it is only by concentra tion that he has achieved this lasting fame. As to the second lesson that he teaches, wc 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 Investigtors arc finding out is 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 books In language which anybody can understand, and in a style whose beauty attracts lens of thousands of readers. Most scientific writers can not free themselves from their technicalities; Henri Fabre has never forgotfcn that tec hnicalities are only tools which have no place in the finished work. Has Not Suffered. Yet his science has not suffered from his 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 '/.eat 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 enthusiast'c than Maeterlinck’s tribute in prose the praise of Fabre’s wonderful charm as a writer A SENTIMENTAL EPISODE A Short Story NOTICED her first in the lounge of the Splendid, and I smiled sympa thetically at the obvious devotion of is boyish young swain who bent over ►r chair. She was so slim and fresh, > charmingly ingenue, that I bad opped Involuntarily to stare, and was lirly knocked over by a burly man hose gaxe was also fixed on the pretty >ung thing. He apologised, and I took myself impatiently and went out rid up the street. Fate and a taste for j lathematlcs have made of me a spinster ihoolma’am, but I have a throbbing lOther-heart. I adore slim, pretty girls, earn over them. As 1 went Into Deere Stone s I was thinking that. If 1 had een blessed with a daughter. 1 should ave liked her to look just like that - oung. sweet and unspoiled "Pardon me. madame. but I believe his is yours." l turned and met the mghing eye* of the girl herself, holding □t a fringed velvet bag. I looked in twilderment at my empty arm. where ly velvet bag had hung "Dear me, so It is." 1 fussed "It's ary kind of you. Fin sure "1 am so glad I found it.” She went j n with a little laughing nod, ami 1 was urning back to the neckwear when 1 I otieed the man who had nearly knocked ; i« over at the Splendid entering the j •or It flashed upon me instantly that e was following the girl, and 1 felt yy face flushing with indignation. Un eaitatingly I turned and wont after im, with a sort of protective rage for be pretty child in my heart iw Man Following Ah' 0 was leaving the shop by a side street entrance, with the man a tew yards behind, as I caught sight <»f them. I hurried breathlessly after, ready to summon an officer directly he ap proached her But he seemed In no hurry to do so, and she took her leis urely way* toward Husbam, lingering now and then before a shop window I felt rather ridiculous as 1 took a seat in the tram opposite the brute, but determined to see the affair through He sat in a comer on the same side as the girl, and 1 at onca discovered that he was staring hard at her reflec tion in the window behind me With a fresh surge of protecting rage 1 crossed over and sat down beside her "My dear child, do you mind if I eom* over and talk to you?” I began She raised her wide, sweet eyes to mine 'It's lovely i>f you," said she. and there a little quaver in her voic< "You've seen that horrid man following me, haven't you Do you know him?" She seemed rather unnerved. I thought, and 1 regretted that 1 had not interfered before "Perhaps I shouldn't alarm you," I aaid. “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 uo not muw! ai so much, she saio plaintively, "but ibis man has followed mo before, a •• 1 ?!\> all alone, and sometimes I'm atraio '3iy dear child!" I cried, honestly shocked. "Surely you have a home and parent#-—” "Not in London,” she interrupted sim ply. "You see, I make fashion sketches. I am a bachelor girl.” 1 smiled sadly at tin pride in her voice. T’m 40, ami I’ve “bached” it my* self for fifteen years, and know all the realities of bachelor-girl life, it’s make shifts nn<l depressions, as well as Its In dependence. She returned my smile a little wistfully, ami her eyes crept fur tively low art] 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?" "I» would be lovely," she agreed. But the brute followed us off, and I was about to appeal lo 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 Ah bachelor girls go, I'm prosperous enough, but I do not affect taxis, and I confess 1 was a bit awed. "But what address d’d you give the chauffeur?” I demanded "Mine is at the Seine Mansions "Well," she smiled wickedly, "I said th*’ King's, but 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," I ejacu lated, "but you why '» l looked up at her and hesitated. She was young and charming, but I was struck with a certain sophistica tion, a poise that l had missed be fore. "I'm young but, oh. so wise. She had thrown off her handsome coat and stole and stood before a little Whistler that had cost me many a privation. "Yon know he can’t draw’, of course?” she said argumentatively, while I light ed nhe 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- I waiter. Before we had returned to | the living room the bell pealed vio- j lentl\. 1 answered it, annoyed that the 1 hall boy should have let anyone up. Standing there, with a leerlnu smile, I was the brute. I want to speak to the other one.” I he said, trying ui peer over my shoul- » der. 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 door?” 1 shook my head dumbly and follow ed hint as he examined the kitchenette. He jerked open the dumbwaiter door, and gazed down its black, ill-smelling shaft. Just a Diamond Pendant. "Roomy enough," he muttered. "She’s only a slip of a thing.” "But how do you know?" 1 volun teered timidly. "W-what—did she—-did —she ” Fie 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 ” t could only gape at jiirn aghast, as he picked up his hat and started out. "Shell 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?” T flushed crimson. "T thought you were trying-trying to speak to her,” T stammered. With a half muttered ejaculation he disappeared Afterwards 1 looked distractedly about for my velvet bag. It was gone with my purse anq my mother’s watch' # # * It’s incredible, preposterous, bi|t f must believe it’s true. This morning the hag came back by messenger with Its contents untouched. There was a note too, in p sprawling, girlish hand: "Dear Protector You were awfully kind. Sorry I couldn't know you bet ter I 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 sailing to-morrow for a long rest. Good-by.” And for once I ant glad I never had a daughter. < opmmmiM. i*u. »? ««• TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. •How did you know that?" ha asked quickly, and then, recollecting: “But 1 j 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. "So you don’t like music. Mr Allan?” “I’m afraid If I am compelled to an swer under oath I should have to say that 1 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 was a trifle harsh, I think,” commented Mr. Lloyd, grave ly. "But he was on tfle right track. Lack 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 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 lees than J1.000. The Tunnel Again. Ethel sang a light little song, and at Its conclusion her father turned 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 liiftsried 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 Is 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 trnns-Atlantic air line." remarked Allan, meaningly. The old banker nodded emphatically. "Quite so—quite so. Everything points to the fact that we muBt Ifcgin 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 nq.t be considered." 1 t 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 persona! credit, Mr Lloyd, and 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 Jr. 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 will. 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 Inpiied that she had caused him to withhold the help that Allan needed. A suspicion, which else in the world. A susplcionfl which his lack of a certain kind of egoism caused him to reject, flashed into 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 apologetic 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 old 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 sho»*t time later he took his leave. Nothing definite was fixed In the course of the conversation, J and be agreed to come again within the week and have a more detailed talk i over prospective ways and means. Allan walked to his hotel, his mind i working busily to arrive at some ex planation of the strange little incident. 1 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 1 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 1 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 *Uoy<i 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 J' Jennie Made a Brave Attempt at Smoking a Cigarette. Chapter 29. fENNlE looked around the cabin of the yacht in open-eyed wonder, for she never, never, saw 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. 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 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 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 the 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 i” 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 at could be and gave an older to one of his crew tc 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 hac 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 Adventure Story I T was in Santos that the awful night’s experience happened. The Brazilian seaport was visited by the yellow fever horror; all around and about us ships were dally losing (Keu members of their crews. Eight At any rate, it behooved him, he told ! °J^ oc k * n m °rning would see an himself, to walk with circumspection j or *i er walk smilingly along to re- until he could see the motives ana ; port that the night had been passed move# more clearly than at present. ’ in safety; 10 might well find half the But there did not seem to be any po6- ! forecastle complement writhing in sibUity of clearer vision in the near fu- : agony the most fearful, ture. When he went to the Lloyd s the ' v* t . mn _ K , . ... next time Ethel was out and her father , httle tab,n st, fling; it was talked evasively of the tunnel plans, n^ce^sary to keep the ports firmly There was much to bo considered af- closed to prevent the noxious vapors 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. Advice to the Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX I smiled scornfully. “You are aren’t you!' 1 shall call put our.” "Nothing a dip In th " \ dip." 1 sa d. "How dare yov hall boy and have y»> He's Happy in the Summer. "PYase help a poor fellow wot can't work at his trade on account of the weather!" whined the tramp. "Hare'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." rioing. lady," he gazed at "Do you know you've got explained mi pa - :oat, he displayed ilu-clothes man A Hint. Mr sprigging <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. Sprigging Well, what oi it .' Mr. Spriggins Nothing, only the but tons 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. I have known and loved this girl three years. My parents like her and her parent#, as far as I un derstand, like me. What I want to know is, 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 best friend, her chum, her big brother, until you are old enough to talk love seriously. TRY TO FORGET HIM Dear Miss Fairfax: 1 am 18 and in love with a man eight years my senior. He is Jewish and I am not. He wants me to marry him. I agreed, but he wants me to turn Jewi.4k 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, w*ith 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 sreat 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 irthday card, v? I have always sent her one whenever she cele brated her birthday. FLORENCE. Mend her a card by all means; but before you send it be sure you arc 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 1 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- "fi-8-sb!” came the reply from a bucol ic-looking gentleman who peered at Job- ghaw under the car. " E come back ten minutes ago. I told im you'd gone across that there field yonder. 'E's a-elamberin' 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." 1 “Want ’Im, do yer?” exclaimed the surprised countryman "Why, I thought ] TjTT-jTurrvrriXT A TUT rYPTTI? I was elpin yer, guv nor. Seein' where I X5 llviVllPl Ur JxA JYL JiiAL/Ulv you’d tucked yourself awa\, I reckoned j 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 w*as rising from the water. The moon w-as 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," 1 said to myself. "I’ll take a run ashore and try to throw off the obsession.” 1 had the ship’s boat lowered and pulled across to the quay-s»ide. Then I made a hurried progress through the sleeping town, and started to climb a steep hill that ran up toward Sao 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, mi.st-shrouded water, 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 falling down like a stone. , Instinctly 1 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 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. 1 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 finger* tightened my clutch and found myself brought up with a shock that seemed to wrench my arms from their sockets. There T hung at arm’s length, gasp lng feebly, quite unable to realize what had happened Dimly T seemed to know that I had been saved, but the problem that slow'ly presente 1 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. 1 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. Bui 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- aimUessly about in the thin air. Now I shouted aloud, shouted in a voice that seemed to my inflamed senses, to carry rfght 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 l had grown sick and incapable of flouting more I resigned myself to death. But I was not thirty, and the de sire for life was strong in my soul. 1 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 1 reckon 1 must have beer 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 U. uneasily enough, but with mam pantings and smugglings, but I did it. I was a strong man, and the love of life added to my strength. Then I had a h ippy inspiration. I wore a stout leather belt about my wa’st: b> dint of much wriggling 1 was able to loosen it, and swing clear. Working strenuously, my teeth assist ing my fr<*-e 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 fall. And X prayed that some succor might ap pear when morning came Then I must have lost conscious ness for a while, for my recollectionf.: 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 cast my aching eyes above. Then I saw something that brought my heart to my mouth again. A faint greyness showed 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. T could not have descended more than forty feet before I struck a branch but that hardly altered the terrible circumstances of the case. How wa. n I to climb up again to safety? I gritted my teeth when the thought came to me, and looked downward. All was still dark, bub the light was gradually filling the upper spaces. At vast the radiant, daylight clothed me where I hung, it traveled downward. And within ten minutes more I saw what I saw. When I had been hanging at the greatest strength of my arms the floor of the pit was barely two feet away from my toes; good, round earth! If I had released my holding 1 should have been perfectly safe. But there is a lock of white hair above my left ear to show* what that night of horror spelt for me. The Stranger. A stranger knocked at a man’s door and told him of a fortune to be made. "Urn,” said the man. "It appear- that considerable effort will be in volved.” "Oh, ye».” said the stranger; "you will pass many sleepless nights and toilsome days.” "I’m." said the man, “and who are you?” "I am called Opportunity.” “Um ” said the man. "you call your self Opportunity, but you look liko Hard Work to me." And he slammed the door. RHICHESTER S PILLS _ THE DIAMOND ItRAMn. a JJrW't. Ask for Cl: I-CirES.TFR'l* DIAMOND r.RAND TILLS, for *6 years known as Best, Safest. Always Reliable SOLD BY DRUGGISTS EVERYWHFr CHANGE Suburban Schedule • Central of Georgia Railway Effective September 14, suburban train No. 108 will leave Atlanta 6:16 v. m. instead of 6:10 p. m. Arrive Jonesboro 7:15 p. m. Adv. GCARS you w’os ’avin’ a game o’ ’ide an’ seek!" SION ROUND TRIP $2.50. Special train leaves Old Depot September 22. Be \ViTH A’LA CARTE SERVICE seaboard’'" trains, j ^ & LQUISVIUE Funeral Designs and Flowers FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Atlanta Floral Company tM EAS T FAIR STREET