Newspaper Page Text
EIGHT
Wjfgtifc'
> -yr "»* (*i
Continued from Yesterday.
"Something like hardtack. Well, he
can't give you that without ceremonial.
When I arrived at the lodge with Ah
med the old boy—he had the complex
ion of a prtma donna-—the old boy eat
on hi* portable throne, glittering with
order* Standing beside him wa* a
chap we called Umballa. He had been
a atreet rat. A bit of Impudence had
caught the king* fancy, and he
brought up tbo boy, clothed, fed him,
•P<* sent him away down to Umbulla
to school When the boy returned he
talked Umballa morning, uoon, and
night, til! the *oldiers began to call
him that, and from them It passed on
to tbe native*, all of whom disliked the
upstart. Hanged If 1 can recall his
real name He was ugly and hand
some at the same time; suave, pa
tient, courteou*; yet somehow or other
1 sensed the real man below—the Tar
tar blood I took a dislike to him,
first off It's the animal sense. You’ve
got It, Kit. Behind the king sat the
Council of Three—three wise old ducks
I wouldn't trust with an old um
brella ”
Winnie laughed.
"While we were salaaming and
genuflecting and using grandiloquent
phrases the bally leopard got loose,
somehow. Maybe some one let him
loose; 1 don't know. Anyhow, he
mad* for the king, who was too thun
derstruck to dodge. The rest of ’em
*ook to their heels, you may lay odds
on that Now, 1 had an honest liking
for the king Heetng tbe brute make
for him. I dashed forward. You see,
St ceremonials you're not permitted
to carry arms It had to be with my
bands Tbe leopard knocked the old
boy flat and began to maul him. I
kicked the brute In tbe face, swept
tbe king's turban off his head and
flung it about tbe head of the leopard.
Somehow or other I got him down.
Some of the frightened natives came
up. and with the help of Ahmod we
got tbe brute tied up securely. When
tbe king came around he silently shook
hands with me and smiled peculiarly
at Umballa, who now came running
up.'
"And that’s how you got those poor
hands!" exclaimed Kuthlyn, kissing
the scars which stood out white
against the tan.
"That's howg" raising the hands and
putting them on Kathlyu'a head In a
kind of benediction.
"Ia that aUr* asked ‘Winnie, breath
lessly.
"Isn’t that etirnigllT" be retorted.
"Wall, what la It. Martha? Dinner?
Well, If I haven’t cheated you girls
out of your tea.”
"Tea!" sniffed Winnie disdainfully.
"Do you know, dad, you're awfully
mean to Kit and me. If you'd take the
trouble you could be more Interesting
than any book I ever read.'
"He doesn't believe hla stories would
Interest vain young ladioa,” said Kuth
lyn, gravely.
Her father eyed her aharply. Of
what was she thinking? In those calm
unwavering eyes of hers he saw a
question, and he feared in hla aoul
•be might voice It. He could evade
questions of the volatile Winnie,
but there was no getting by Kathlyn
with evasions. Frowning, he replaced
the order In the box, which he put
away In a drawer. It waa all arrant
nonsense, anyhow; nothing could poe
slbly happen; If there did, he would
feel certain that he no longer dwelt
In a real workaday world. The Idle
whim of a sardonic old man; nothing
more than that.
'Father. Is the king dead?"
“Dead! What makes you ask that.
Kit?"
“The past tense; you said he waa,
net la."
"Yea, he's dead, and the news cam*
this morning Hence, the yarn."
"Will there be any danger In re
turning*"
I "My girl, whenever I pack my lug
tMe there It danger. A cartridge may
•tick; a man may stumble; a man
you rely on may fall you. As for that. I
there a always danger. It's tbe penally
of balng alive “
On the way to the dining r<om Kath
lyn thought deeply. Why had her fa.
tber asked them If they loved him?
Why did he speak of the Big Trek? I
There waa something more than this
glittering medal, something more than
this simple tale of bravury. What?
Wall, If ha declined to take her Into
hla eonfldanca ho must have good
rueeon.
After dinner that night the colonel
ftrant the rounds, as waa hts habit
nightly. By and by be returned to the
bungalow, but did not-enter. 11« Ailed
hla cutty and walked to and fro In the
moonlight, with bla head bent and his
hands clasped behind his back. There
was a restlessness In hi* stride not
unlike that of the captive beasts In
Kwgea nearby. Oceaaionally he
d at tbe clink clink of tbe ele
lrona or at the "wuss" as the un
pachyderm poured duet on hla
il It was madness A parchment
idustunl, given jestingly or Ironic
«UX by g humorous old chap In order*
Tbe Adventures of Kathlyn
By HAROLD MAC GRATH
Illustrated by Pictures from the Moving Picture Production of the Sellg Polyscope Co.
and white linen and rhinoceros san
dals. ... A throne! Pshaw! It
was bally nonsense. As if a white
man could rule over a brown one by
the choice of the latter! And yet, that
man Umballa’* face, when he bad
shown the, king the portraits of his
two lovely daughters! He would send
Ahmed. Ahmed knew the business
as well as he did. He would send his
abdication to the council, giving them
the right to choose his successor. He
himself would remain home with the
girls. Then he gazed up at the moon
and smiled grimly.
"Hukum hal!” he murmured in Hin
dustani. “It Is the orders. I've simply
got to go. When I recall those rubles
and emeralds and pearls. . . .
Well, It's not cupidity for myself. It's
for the girls. Besides, there's the call,
the adventure. I've simply go to go.
I can’t, escape It. 1 must be always on
the go . . . since she died."
A few days later he stood again
before the desk In the living room.
He was -dressed for travel. He sat
down and penned a note. From the
box which contained the order ho ex
tracted a large envelope, heavily
sAaled. This he balanced in his hand
for a moment, frowned, laughed, and
swore softly. He would abdicate, but
at a snug profit. Why not? . . .
He was an old fool. Into a still larger
envelope he put the sealed envelope
and hie own note, then wrote upon It.
He was blotting It as his daughters en
tered.
"Come here, my pretty cubs.” He
held out the envelope. "I want you.
Kit, to open this on December SI, at
midnight. Girls like mysteries, and If
you opened It any time but midnight
It wouldn’t he mysterious. Indeed, I
eMU probably have you both on the
arena of my chair when you open It”
"Is It about the medal?” demanded
Winnie
"By George, Kit, the child is begin
ning to reason out things,” he jested
Winnie laughed, and so did Kath
lyn. but she did so because occultly
she felt that her father expected her
to laugh. She was positively uncanny
sometimes In her perspicacity.
“On December 81, at midnight," she
repeated. "All right, father. You must
write to us at leaHt once every fort
night.”
“I'll cable from Singapore, from Cey
lon, and write a long letter from Al
laha, Como on. We must be off. Ah
med is wafting."
Horae hours later the two girls saw
the Pacific Mall steamer move with
cold and Insolent majesty out toward
tbo Golden Gate. Kathlyn proved
rather uncommunicative on the way
home. December 31 kept running
through her mind. It held a portent
of evil. Hhe knew something of the
Orient, though she had never visited
India. Had her father made an Im
placable enemy? Was he going Into
some unknown, unseen danger? l>e
oember 81, at midnight. Could she
hold her curiosity In check that long?
RmL* - jHh ft
nTi -w v c
nHL * >
Umballa Leaving California.
Many of the days that followed
dragged, many flew -the first for
Kathlyn, the last for Winnie, who now
had a beau, a young newspaper man
from Han Francisco. He came out
regularly every Saturday and returned
at night. Winnie became, If anvthtu&
more flighty than ever. Her father
never had young mnu abouL The men
he generally gathered round his board
were old hunters or sailors Kathlyn
watched this budding romance amused
ly. The young man waa very nice.
Hut her thoughts were always and
eternally with her father.
During the last week In December
there arrived at the Palace hotel lu
San Francisco an East Indian, tall,
well formed, rather handsome Ex
cept for his brown turban he would
have passed unnotloed For Hindus
and Japanese and Chinamen and what
not* from the southern seas were
•very day affairs The brown turban,
however, and an enormous emerald on
one of hts fingers, produced an effect
quite gratifying to him in the
oriental Is never conspicuous for Its
absence. The reporters gave him scant
(Copyright by Harold MecCirelii)
attention, though, for this was at a
time when the Gaekwar of Baroda was
unknown.
The stranger, after two or three
daya of idling, casually asked the way
to the wild animal farm of his old
friend, Colonel Hare. It was easy
enough lo find. At the village Inn he
was treated with tolerant contempt.
These brown fellows were forever
coming and going, to and fro, from tha
colonel’s celebrated farm.
At five o'clock In the afternoon of
the 31st day of December, this East
Indian peered cautiously Into tha
French window of the Hare bungalow.
The picture he saw thgre sent a thrill
Into his heart. She was as fair and
beautiful as an hourl of Sa’adi. She
sat at a desk, holding a long, white
envelope In her hand. By and by she
put It. away, and he was particular to
note the drawer In which she placed it.
That the dark-haired girl at the tea
tabaret was equally charming did not
stir the watcher. Dark haired women
were plentiful In his native land. Yon
der was the girl of the photograph,
the likeness of which had fired hla
heart for many a day. With the pa
tience of the oriental he stood In the
shadow and waited. Sooner or later
they would leave the room, and sooner
or later, with the deftness of his breed,
he would enter. The leopard he had
heard about was nowhere to be seen.
"Winnie," said Kathlyn, “I dread It.”
Winnie set down the teacup, her
eyes brimming.
“What can It all mean? Not a line
from father since Colombo, five months
gone."
"Do you think —”
"No, no!” replied Kathlyn, hastily.
“Father sometimes forgets. He may
be hunting miles from telegraph wires
and railroads; It Is only that he should
forget us so long. Who knows? He
may have dropped down Into Borneo.
He wanted some pythons, so I heard
him say.”
The elder sister did not care to In
still Into the heart of her charge the
fear which was In her own.
"Who knows but there may be good
news In the envelope? Dad's always
doing something like that. New
Year’s!”
The collie, released from the kitchen,
came bounding in. In his exuberance
he knocked over a cloisonne vase. Both
girls were glad to welcome this di
version. They rose simultaneously
end gave chase. The dog headed tor
the outdoor studio, where they caught
Mm and made believe they were pun*
lulling; hint.
Quietly the watcher entered through
Uie window-, alert and tenae. He flew
to the desk, found the envelope,
(teamed It open at the kettle, extract
ed the sealed envelope and Colonel
Hare's note. He smiled as he read
the latter and changed his plans com
pletely. He would not play messen
ger; he would use a lure instead. With
his ear strained for sounds, he wrote
and substituted a note. This hourl of
Sa'adi would not pause to note the
difference In writing: the vltalnees of
the subject would euchaln her
thoughts. It was all accomplished In
the space of a few minutes. Smiling,
he passed out Into the fast settling
twilight
They were shipping a lioa to San
Francisco, and the roaring and con
fusion were all very satisfactory to the
trespasser.
Midnight. From afar came the mel
low notes of the bells in the aucleut
Spanish mission. The old year was
dead, the new year was born, carrying
with It the unchanging sound of hap
piness and misery, or promises made
and promises broken, of good and evil.
"The packet!” cried Winnie.
Kathlyn recognized In that call that
Winnie was only a child. All the re
sponsibility lay upon her sbouldeis.
She ripped the cover from the packet
and read the note.
"Kathlyn: If not heard from I'm held
captive In Allaha. Sealed document
can save me. Bring It yourself to Al
laha by first steamer. FATHER."
“I knew It," said Kathlyn, calmly.
The fear In her heart had, as the
brown man had anticipated, blinded
her to the fact that this was not her
father's characteristic blunt scrawl.
"Oh. Kit, Kit!"
"Hush, Winnie! I must go, and go
alone. Where's the evening paper?
Ah. here It Is. I<et me see what boat
leaves San Francisco tomorrow. The
Empress of India. 6 a. m.' I roust make
that. Now. you're your father's daugh
ter. too. Winnie. You must stay be
hind and be brave and wait. 1 shall
come back. I shall find father. If I
have to rouse all India. Now, to pack."
When thay arrived at the station the
passenger train had just drawn out
For a while Kathlyn felt beaten. She
would be compelled to wait another
week. It was disheartening.
"Why not try the freight, then?"
cried Winnie.
"You little angel! I never thought
of that!"
But the crew would not hear of It.
It was absolutely against the com
pany's rul4t. Kathlyn could have
cried
(To Be Continued Tomorrow)
THE AUGUSTA HERALD. AUGUSTA, GA.
| loHH DEAK . 2 HALL WE Pur) CNAVt! ID9/ITLIKE )
EAST AV, NORWALK --• Y? vj '
COAW
Mr. Bungalow has just been given a vacation, and the whole Bungalow family arc off for a rest cure in the coun
try. Pure air and good food, with scenery thrown in almost free—that's the stuff. Tomorrow—but look at Powers’s
picture and see for yourself. «
THE TORTURES OF JEALOUSY
Lewaschow wan writing a jjreat drama
in five acts entitled “The Tortures of J
Jealousy,” but be got stuck towards the
end of the second act, in which the hero :
Karbasnikow suspects his wife of faith- .
Icssncss and overwhelms her with re- J
proaches. . The leproaches had flown
very readily from Lewasohow s pen, hut
when it was the turn of the wife to say
something to justify herself his genius
•failed him.
“The devil only knows what a wife;
will say in a situation like that.” he
thought, chewing his penholder furious-
Iv. "I am thirty-six now and have not
the slightest idea of what a wife who
(returns from a clandestine meeting
with her lover will answer to a husband ;
who has found her out. And how should
1 know?”
As a matter of fact Isewaschow had
never the slightest reason to suspect nia
Wyerotchka.
•What a pity that she has gone out!
for ft walk.” he thought, “otherwise \
might have asked her. Of course, she
has no reason to try to Justify herself
and assure me of her loyalty, but she is
a woman and knows the ways of woman j
better than l do.
He threw down his pen and began . to
read from his play:
Kurbasnlkow (threatening): “I know
everything. Do not try to lie to me. i i
know every jingle detail and the small- j
est lie will only add to your guilt. Tell j
me the truth. Do you come from the
arms of your lover now?”
Mary—(Remains stubbornly silent and
states at her shows without once rais
ing her eyes.)
Karbasnlkow —"Why don't you speak?!
You do not imagine that your silence will '
convince me of your Innocence when 1 •
have a right to demand an answer to my
question. Speak.” He takes hold of her
arm violently.) “What is his name? 1
want to know the name of the man who
has dared soil my honor.”
Mary (speaks in a voice broken by
sobs.)
Hut Lewaschow did not know what to
make Mary say between her sobs. He
imagined that a woman under similar
circumstances would swear that she was
Innocent and that she is a victim of
some slandering friend who is jealous of
her. There is always a friend to blame,
lie now thought of making a scene wiih
his jerotchka. Of course she would be
Indignant and say just the words he
needed for Mary who is really as In
nocent and pure as an age! and only the
Victim of a shameless intrigue.
The thought of experimenting with
Wyerotchka refused to leave his hrnln
and he resolved to carry it mit when she
returned from the walk she was sure i
to give him words for the great * Umax of I
the second act. In the meantime he j
went to work on tlie third act.
An hour or passed and he had j
already flniaheii several scenes of the .
third act. In which the hero meets the
slanderer of his wife’s honor, when the
doorbell rings Lewaschow hurriedly
puis aside his manuscript and begins
pacing up and down the floor of his •
study, Hi*. wife enters quite flushed
with the exHtement of her brisk walk
and he makes a rush for her.
“1 know everything.” he roars. “Do -
not try to lie to me I know every sin
gle detail and tHe smallest lie will only
add to >our guilt Tell tne the truth
Do you come straight from the arms of
your lover now?”
Kverythlit* went swimmingly WJqfot* j
chka was scared out of her wits and
quite pale began to retreat towards the
door, not daring to look at her hue!mml
had undoubtedly been told every* j
thing.
“It Is that false serpent of Tshltsch- |
klne who has betrayed me ” she thought.
“She is jealous because she is in love'
with Kolguschkin herself.
“Tell me the truth. Do >©u corns
from your lovtf?’
WJerctchka still remained silent She
could not get any further away because
she had closed the door and like Mary '
In the play she dared not raise her eyes
from the floor.
t.ewafohow went on quoting his pay
Which he knew quite b\ heart
“Why don't you speak? You don’t
imagine that your silence will convince
me of your innocence when 1 have a
Tight to demand an answer to my ques
tions. Speak.”
THE BUNGALOW’S RESCUE
He caught hold of her arm so v iolently
that she winced with pain.
‘‘What is his name. i want to know
tiie name of the man who has dared soil
my honor.” v '
“He will kill me—l had better an
swer,” Wjerotchka thought and even
before her ht&shand had finished his pas
sionate outburst sell sobbed:
"His name is Kolguschkin.”
“So his name is Kolguschkin,” roared
Lewaschow, who quite forgot himself in
the part of the hero of his drama and
did not even remmemner that there was
no such name in it, while there was a
certain young Kolguschkin among their
acquaintances.
. "Then you were with him?”
“Yes,” whispered Wjerotchka and be
gan to tremble all over, expecting her
husband to strike her down with his
fists.
“You confess.” roared Lew’aschow.
“What did you do? Did he kiss you?”
“Yes. he has kissed me. 1 am not
made of ice. I couid not resist him.
“Wolodja,” she cried and threw herself
down on iier knees, “forgive me. do not
kill me.”
First 1 want to hear you tell the whole
truth.” cried Lewaschow and flung her
aside. Swear that your unfaithfulness
was an accident and that you have visit
ed him for the first and last time.”
“Yes, it will be the last time. I swear
thru Wolodja. This Kolguschkin must
njt destroy our happiness.”
"What Kilguschkin.” burst out Lew
ah hew suddenly interrupting her con
fession. Now that he saw a way to get
a climax for his second act he suddenly
discovered the name. “His name is not
Ko’guschkln at all. but Dschaparidse and
lie is a Caucasian.”
“Wolodja. that is not true. Iknow
no Dschaparidse. If my friend aas to. J
you a wrong name ”
“1 don’t understand you at all now,”
exclaimed Lewaschow. “There is no
friend in my play. The husband suspects
his wife of deceiving him with Dschapa
ridse- but Kolguschkin.” he exclaimed
in a changed voce, “so you have a love
affair with that fool Kolguschkin. whom
1 never could bear. My, God, what must
I hear?”
Now it was Wjertchka’s turn to under
stand nothing
“Didn’t Tschltchkina write an annoy
moua letter to you then?” she exclaim
ed and crept up to the chair into which
Lcwaschew had thrown himselm. She
was still on her knees.
"I do not know of any letter. 1 only
wanted to play a scene from my drama
with you and you confess tiiat you haye
been deceiving me with Kolguschkin."
“Wo’doja,” sobbed Wjerotchka, con
vinced that nothing but a fainting spell
could save her now. While recovering
consciousness she would think of some
scheme, but just then the doorbell rang
and prevented her from carrying out her
plan.
“It Is Kolguschkin,” she thought for
•be had just arranged that he should
call.
“Get up,” said Lekas how icily.
“Somehod\ is coming and I want no
scandal. You may explain later.”
Kolguschkin entered, suspecting noth
ing He was stylishly dressed and cams
fresh from his hairdresser's.
•'The foppish monkey.” thought Lew
is* how and went for him.
“Listen In my new drama the hus
band without any reason suspects his
wife of being unfaithful to him with a
scoundrel of a Caucasian. To get best
the effect of this scheme I overwhelmed
my wife with reproaches and in her sur
prise she confessed that she has Just
come from you. What have you to say
to this, sir?”
“I can only say that she told >ou the
truth.” said the Inwardly greatly per
turbed Kolguschkin very calmly and
stated shamelessK Into Lewaschow’*
face Wjerotchka came very near faint
ing in real earnest.
“I deserve your contem;t.‘ went on
Kolguschkin. “and place myself entirely
at your disposal. ’
“A duel,” thought Wjerotchka and In
her mind she saw herself standing at
the window looking at ner husband re
turning Into the house while Koigwchf
kin’s dead body was carried away on n
streacher.
“I shall fight no duels with you.” roar
ed Lewaschow. “You are a scourdrel
who ha s robbed me of my wife and
abused my confidence to seduce her. You
like a dog.”
“That is all I need.” said Kolgusch
kin with a magnfieent gesture.
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Please calm yourself, sir, and I will
explain. You are writing a drama I am
writing a novel. You needed a scene of
jealousy' “
“And you needed my wife's love ”
“No. sir. I only needed a model of a
cowardly and brutal husband. I have
been used always to associate with gen
tlemen and men of honor and was try
ing to find out how common people who
are too cowardly to fight a duel would
behave. After I have played this scene
with you I feel certain that this inci
dent will make a hit in my book. I
thank you very much, sir.”
“How.” stammered Lewaschow'. “then
your confession was only acting?” And
Wjerotchka’s confession?”
“Acting too. I had the pleasure of
meeting your wife in the street and ask
ed her to help me with an incident in
my novel. If you would have given her
a "chance to explain she would have told
you so herself” ’
“And her visit to your room?”
“Fiction. Do I look like a man, a
woman like your wife would fall in love
with?”
“I must say he Is clever,” thought
Wjerotcnaka. “I fee! like kissing him
right here,” and she drew a breath oi
relief.
“A very' *ympathetic young man after
all.” thought Lewaschow an hour later
he read the two first acts aloud to his
wife and Kolguschkin.
BIG YEAR IN CHURCH
BUILDING
(New York Sun.)
Reports received here front various
I arts of the country indicate that this
will be a busier season in church
building than for 10 years past, de
spite the talk of financial and indus
trial depression.
Contracts thus far let call for
structures that will cost between $"5.-
000,000 and $40,000,000. While all of
this money may not be spent upon tho
buildings before the end of the year,
contract* uncompleted at the begin
ning of the season will make the total
expenditure this year approximately
$40,000,000.
The Roman Catholics are among
the most active this season. They
are following the pattern of Vienna,
Paris and Rome, in multiplying the
number of parishes in large cities,
feeling that their parishes in many
cases are too large. In the Southern
states much building of Catholic
churches is going on.
The Episcoi aliens are also active.
They are building cathedrals in sev
eral important cities. TheC'hristian
Scientists report fewer building pro
jects this year than formerly.
New York will spend from $5,000,-
000 to $8,000,000 this summer, chiefly
on Manhattan Island. Chicago has
on hand some $",000,000 in church
projects. The South and Southeast,
New England and Rock Mountain re
gions report the largest number of
projects, although In many cases the
amounts involved are small.
THE HARDNESS OF WATER
(From the American Magazine.)
Here Is a fan which is probably
novel th the average man who has
not spent much of his life thinking
about motor speed boats. This is
what we may call the hardness of the
water when a boat Is running at
speed Water at 50 miles an hour
is not the limpid liquid we are accus
tomed to bathe in. If you put your
arm overboard from a hydroplane run
ning at 50 miles an hour and strike
a wake crest the probability Is that
you will break your arm or wrist, be
cause at that speel the water has not
time to give, not time even to change
shape, and striking it is like striking
so much metal.
In the great hydraulic mining uni
ties. where a stream of water under
WEDNESDAY. JULY 10.
enormous head is used to wash down
hillsides, a swordsman, in attempting
to cut into one of these streams, will
shatter the sword without being able
to penetrate the water. The stream
is like a bar of iron. that
water at relative speed is so hard —
or that its inertia is so great, to be
a little more accurate—is the reason
why a skipping stone travels over
the surface, and is the reason why a
hydroplane Blides over the surface
Instead of plowing its way through.
The picture w r e must have in our
minds, then, of a speed boat is that
it is traveling not in water, as we
ordinarily understand it. but over
the surface of a semi solid, very much
as a sled travels over snow. The
hardness of water at 50 miles an hour
we might compare with the hardness
of cheese—at rest.
THE MANLY ART
(From the Troy Standard Press.)
Recent and current outpourings
hum smug suuis condemning popular
interest in a certain Parisian event
cave once more demonstrated how
many there are unauie ir unwilling to
ditterentiate between boxing and
prize-fighting.
The arguments in favor of boxing
as an exercise for creating and main
taining maniy vigor and good iieau.i
woulu fill a boon. Tne giove game
comes as near as any sport to devel
oping evenly all the muscles oi me
body. Another virtue oi boxing is in
developing the capacity ior quick
thinking. The boxer who permits ms
wits to go wool-garnering is nkeiy u
be awakened by a stiff punch. The
co-operation between mind and body
which Is one of the marks of toe suc
cessful man is encouraged by boxing
as by few other sports. Even base
ball is inferior in this respect, tor few
plays in the national pastime are pull
ed off with such startlug suddenness
as marks the actions of a clever
boxer.
Quickness in thought, swiftness in
putting the thought into action —what
would not any ambitious man give to
attain these qualities? Yet both may
be accomplished by persistent prac
tice with the gloves.
Development of self-control is an
other pronounced virtue of tile manly
art. The man who flies in a rage
at the slightest provocation, who finds
It impossible to control his temper,
and who realizes that these faults
are calcuated to ruin and embitter
his whole life and keep him constant
ly In hot water, could not do better
than to place himself in the hands of
a good teacher of boxing.
VICARIOUS SACRIFICES TO
DRESS
We seem to be burning up our little
girls for the sake of style in clothes.
While babies there are about the same
number of losses of life from burning
among girls as boys, but as soon as
they are dressed differently the per
centage of girls rises. Statistics kept
in England for five years show that
of the deaths of children from burns
up to the age of 1 year there were
2i4 boys and 234 girls; from 1 to 4
1,663 boys and 1.818 girls; from 4 to
5, 368 boys and 775 girls; from 5 to
10, 389 boys and 1.427 girls, and from
10 to 20. 80 boys and 636 girls. The
girls burned to death in England in
that period of five years, in excess of
the boys, numbered 1.620. If the sam
ratlo holds true in the I'nited State,
we are losing nearly a thousand youn;
girls by horrible deaths every year by.
reason of their style of clothing.—Da;
laa News.