Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, February 25, 1913, Image 1
YORKVILLE ENQUIRER.
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ESTABLISHED 1855^ YORKVILLE, B. C., TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 1913. NO. 1H.
? THE AMERICA
i
i
| By ETTA H
*
iyt^xs'KiC'KicKicrtxy
CHAPTER XXVII. i
Be* Speaks Again.
Monday.?Today something very un- i
pleasant happened. I was standing in <
the embrasure of a drawing-room window,
staring out into the wintery sunshine,
and thinking how dull and mon- 1
otonous life?even fashionable life?is,
and feeling quite ready to cry out with ]
the preacher. "All is vanity!" when a j
ushered Baron Strozzi into <
the room.
Now I make it a point never to see j
or speak to that man where I can avoid ]
it; so I just gathered myself together
behind the silk damask drapery, and i
stood as silent as a mouse. I am not <
very large, and the noble man seated ]
himself at the other end of the room, i
entirely ignorant of my presence. <
Directly the door opened, and Aunt t
Amelia entered, her long train making
a great rustle on the velvet pile carpet. 1
I heard her greet the baron warmly, i
and soon after the following conversa- 3
tion was wafted to my ears.
"Dearest madame, I come to you for
sympathy?I am heartbroken!" 1
\ "Baron!"
/ I heard him kiss her hand. <
"Your fair niece, madame?ze divine
Beatrix?she treats me cruelly;
she detests me. I rend my hair with <
despair, madame." 3
"Baron," said the cold, calm voice of
my aunt, "I have witnessed with pain 1
the conduct of my niece. Beatrix is
very capricious. However, I beg you i
will remember her extreme youth. Do 1
not be discouraged?you have my en- 3
tire support."
"Alas, madame, she repulses me ev- i
erywhere. She scorns me! My life is t
a burden!" c
"Baron, I intend to act for the highest
good of my niece, whether she has c
wit to appreciate my efforts or not. \
Willing or unwilling, Beatrix shall 1
make a creditable marriage?a.marri- t
age that I and my friends can approve, r
Her uncle has full control of her person
and her fortune for years to come. 1
I give you my word. Baron, that she 1
?-... ,
shall De your wne;
"Madame, you lift a great load from
my heart?you overwhelm me with }
happiness. You promise zat she will
be mine?" i
"I promise that she shall be yours." t
A thrill of horror ran through every
vein in my body. Could anything be
more Infamous than this? Another i
caller was shown in at that moment, t
and the conversation was brought to a 1
close. ' I
I remained in my hiding-place till 1
the drawing-room was empty; then 1
stole awayto my own chamber, where I 1
now sit, full of consternation and foreboding.
And so my dear aunt has prom- I
ised me to the Baron?she is leagued t
with him against my peace and hap- t
piness! These precious allies are
prepared to make me a baroness whether
I will or no! Well, let us see how (
they will succeed. 1
Wednesday.?A charity ball at the
Academy of Music. I wore white gauze c
over silk of an exquisite blush-rose t
tint, and played the part of spectator i
the whole evening. Baron Strozzi came (
to claim me for the first waltz, and s
was repulsed .vithout mercy. 5
"Bee," said Aunt Amelia, in my ear, 1
"you will dance with the baron or not 1
at all. I require you to observe the j
rules of common politeness." i
"Then I will not dance at all," I an- 1
swered. And I did not. ^
Grafula's band and Bernstein's or- 1
chestra discoursed sweet music; the
great chandelier and numerous sidelights
blazed gayly. What toilets!
what valses! The polished yellow floor, <
laid evenly to the back of the stage, i
was covered with happy people. Stalls, I
lobbies and boxes echoed with subdu- i
~ onH la nchtPf |
I saw the baron dancing wildly and <
casting looks of dark triumph to the {
box where I moped beside Aunt Ame- i
lia: I saw Ethel floating through valse (
after valse. and I bore it all like a mar- 1
tyr. Miserable evening! I have but <
one satisfaction?I suffered in a good <
cause.
Thursday.?A german at Miss Vann's. <
Lawrence Harding was there with the 1
Severnes. Ethel was there?it is the 1
last time that she will be seen in pub- 1
lie before her marriage?she danced
with Lawrence. The baron was there,
and persecuted me relentlessly. When 1
I could bear it no longer, I begged him 1
to bring me an ice, and the moment he
departed in quest of one I slipped out
of the ball-room and fled to Miss Vann's 1
studio, which she had thrown open to
her guests this night.
I found the room entirely empty,'and
gleaming with pictures, rich bric-abrac,
and soft wax lights, and scented
with pot-pourri and masses of hothouse
flowers. In a recess, where a
drapery of golden-flowered eastern
stuff was arranged like a curtain before
an exquisite statue of Hebe, I
found an antique chair, and sat down,
determined to remain in this refuge for
^? ? ? A AirAninty
me resi ui me CICUU-B'
"Anywhere, anywhere, away frotn
that detestable Strozzi," I said to myself.
"Nobody will follow me here," and
no sooner had I arrived at the conclusion,
and begun to Inspect the classic
proportions of Hebe, than the studio
door opened, and two persons entered
?Ethel and Lawrence Harding.
He looked very grave and stern. She
was trying to assume her usual society
air, and was not quite able to compass
it.
"Ah! we have stumbled upon Miss
Vann's temple of art," I heard her say.
nervously; "let us go back to the ballroom?I
shall be missed."
"One moment, Ethel," he answered,
sternly. "Do you know what brought
me to this house tonight?"
"No. Something of importance, no
doubt, since I hear you have foresworn
society and all its vanities."
"I came here to see you?to speak to
you for the last time before your marriage."
From my place behind the gold?
flowered curtain I could see the beautiful,
scented room, glimmering with
s. costly things, and those two standing
near the door?he with his brown face
grown all pale and fierce, she nervously
plucking at her bouquet, the
light striking off her waved bronze hair
and creamy throat, and glancing down
the enormous length of her dress of
iceberg-blue. Of course they would
leave the Dlace in a moment or two, so
I did not move nor speak. Moreover, I
felt unaccountably scared.
"Ethel, for God's sake, don't marry
Count Stahl!"
That was what Lawrence said, in a
voice that made me Jump. Ethel, too,
recoiled a step.
"What! those words again?and from
you!" she cried, in mingled pain and
amazement.
"Again? Do you mean that you have
heard them before?"
"Yes."
"Thank Heaven that you have still
some sincere friends left to you!" he
said, bitterly. "Were you a happy woman,
Ethel, I would cut my tongue
out sooner than utter these words; but
you are not happy. You may deceive
others, but not me. Your triumph is
but a Dead Sea apple, after all. Have
mercy upon yourself?mind. I do not
say upon me. but only upon yourself."
Her face was as white as his own;
but she flung back her head haughtily.
"I forbid you to talk to me like this.
Ijawrence. Take me back to the dancers."
"Directly. Look me in the face,
Ethel, and. if you can. tell me that you
love Count Stahl."
She neither moved nor spoke. Dear
me! Ethel is but a poor dissembler.
And how stern and handsome was
Lawrence, as he confronted her! With
IN COUNTESS ?
I
'. PIERCE. |
?
lyHNM
a mrid air nf mmmand hp drew her
hands into his own.
"You cannot! Then tell me that you
do not love me?that you do me no
wrong by marrying the count"
She shivered in his hold.
"Let me go," I hoard her murmur,
faintly.
His eyes were like live coals. He
looked ready to trample her under his
feet or kneel and adore her?Indeed, I
:ould not tell which.
"You are sinning against yourself
ind against me, Ethel; but it is not too
late for you to draw back."
"You do not know what you say. It
s weeks and months too late! You
)nce told me that I was no heroine,
Lawrence. I am not. Do not be foolsh
any more, or I shall regret that we
rver met again after our return from
ibroad." 1
"You will marry the count, though I
>elieve you care for me as much as it
s in your nature to care for any one?
rou will give yourself to him?" 1
"I will marry the count."
He drew back from her with a stern, 1
jet face. !
"I love you, Ethel," he said, In a low, 1
leliberate voice, "an1 I despise you." j
She grew red, then pale.
"You have said nothing that I do not j
leserve, Lawrence; therefore I forgive ;
rou. Will you come now?"
She moved toward the door. He fol- (
owed slowly.
"These are our last: words, Ethel. I
vould not, for kingdoms, breathe the
iir of this place another half hour with ,
rou."
She made no reply. They vanished, '
he door closed. I whs alone, with hot
ears In my eyes. Poor Ethel! poor,
lear Ethel! j
Presently I heard a footstep. The 1
Irapery that sheltered my hiding-place
vas swept swiftly back. I looked up, 1
md found that some one had entered 1
he studio and was now standing by
ny side?Baron Strozzl. j
"Heaven above," he cried, "you come. 1
lere to weep in secret? Loveliest and
nost obdurate of women, why these
:ears?" . 1
I arose to my feet, bristling with j
vrath.
"Pardon, that is no affair of yours," J
laid I. "I wish to be as you find me? 1
done."
His ugly black eyes snapped. 1
"Ah, how cruel! You send me for an
ce, Miss Beatrix; while I go you run 1
iway. I will bear this treatment no 1
onger. I love you ardently. I wish to '
nake you my baroness?ze mistress of (
Palace Strozzl, on ze Tiber. Pardieu! 1
[ put my heart under your little feet.
5V111 you marry me?''
I looked him full in his dark, marked )
'ace, and, with all the scorn and aver- lion
I could muster, hurled full at him <
hat one expressive syllable:
"No!"
Then I rushed for the door, but be- 1
'ore I could reach it he put himself be- 1
'ore me. 1
"Stop, Mees Beatrix," he said, auda:iously;
and the glitter of his white
:eeth through his black mustache was !
,'ery unpleasant; "I haf ze permission 1
>f madame, your good aunt, to urge my 1
mit. You must hear me?more yet. I
:ou must marry me! It will do no good
'or you to fly into a temper. Peste! I J
lave borne a great deal of your temler!
and to say No?you are a ward, J
ind your guardians accept me for your '
,'uture husband. Take back zat ugly
vord, my beautiful and substitute a
letter, kinder one?Yes!" |
"Never!
"Ah but you will!" 1
I made a second attempt to reach the
loor. He seized my arm and dragged 1
ne rudely back. I screamed out, part- 1
y in wrath at this outrageous conduct, {
jartly in genuine fea. ; and, as I did so. ]
he door of the studio opened from with)ut,
a man appeared on the threshold, 1
ind, taking in the situation at a glance 1
seized Strozzi by the collar, and drag- 1
?ing him backward across the door- 1
svay, lifted him swiftly off his feet, and
Iropped him straight down the broad,
:arved stair!
How gracefully and dexterously it
was done! With a thrill of wicked
delight I heard him fall somewhere below,
and ran toward the person that
delivered me. crying out:
"How much I thank you"?
Then I stopped, as if turned to
stone. Merciful Heaven! I was face
to face with Eric Saxe!
Face to face at last, after all these
weeks and months! We stood staring
at each other. I could not utter a
sound. I felt as If I was suffocating.
"Since you can find it in your heart
to thank me for throwing the baron
downstairs," said Eric Saxe, "it cannot
be possible that he is your accepted
lover, as gossip would fain make me
believe."
He took a step toward me, and held
out his hand. A great light swept over
his face?that splendid, passionate
face, so like some Greek god, some
sculptured Antonious.
"Beatrix!'
That brought me to myself?reminded
me also, of his strange conduct. I
drew coldly back.
"You mistake!" I corrected, with all
the hauteur I could command: "I am
Miss Sardl8."
He looked unutterably pained and
surprised.
"Is this the way in which you define
my position?" he said, "and cut me
off from all hope?'
I gave him a scornful glance.
"I do not in the least comprehend
your meaning. Mr. Saxe. For the assistance
you have Just rendered me I
thank you sincerely, and?here our acquaintance
ends!"
He grew pale as death.
"And once you told me that fashionable
life could not change you, Beatrix
?do you remember? And in defiance
of my better judgment. I believed you;
I trusted the brave, pure soul in these
gray eyes; and so trusting and so believing
I have held aloof from you and
waited, if not with patience, at least
with faith, for the time when I should
be free to open my heart to you."
"I do not understand you in the
least," said I blankly.
"You do not understand that I am
trying, at infinite pains and cost to
myself, to keep my compact faithfully?"
"What compact?"
He stared.
"Surely you know, for I told you In
my letter. I wished you to understand
clearly the restraint under which I was
forced to place myself."
"I cannot think what you mean," I
cried sharply. "I never received a letter
from you in my life."
We looked each other full in the face.
"Beatrice, do you know what you are
saying? Did not your guardian deliver
to you the letter which I wrote you In
his Dresence on the dav when you left
Newport?"
"No"
And then he stood there in the soft
gleam of the wax-lights and told me
the whole shameful, treacherous story.
Oh. how angry I was. and how happy!
I have wronged him so much?I have
accused him unjustly of many things.
"What have you thought of me all
this time?" he demanded, with the light
that never was on land nor sea shining
in his eyes. "Remembering our last interview.
surely my silence has seemed
to you base, dishonorable, incomprehensible.
Oh, my darling!"
And then?I know not how it was?I
was in his arms, his lips pressed mine,
my happy head lay on his throbbing
exultant heart.
"I love you. Bee?I have loved you
from the night of cur first meeting. I
may ask the question now in defiance
of all compacts?will you be my wife?"
"Yours,, and yours only!" I sobbed.
After a little while he asked:
"Is Baron Strozzi the man to whi
your guardian would fain marry yoi
"Yes. I wonder if you did him se
ous injury?"
"I hope so. I shall wait upon J
Sardis tomorrow?he certainly owes i
some explanation regarding that lett
Thank Heaven that Miss Vann urg
me to come to her german tonigl
Thank Heaven that I, starving for o
glimpse of your face, one sound of yc
voice, had not the strength to reft
her! But why, I wonder, has she ne
er hinted to me of your persecution
Strozzi?"
"Miss Vann, unhappily, thinks t
baron perfection," I answered.
And after that we sat there In tJi
blessed studio, and talked, and talk<
and I promised to marry my darling
spite of all the guardians and Stroz:
in ovlotonfo Then wp went hack
the ball-room.
Both Lawrence Harding and the ba
on had vanished. Ethel was dancii
with the count and Aunt Amelia w
searching for me in great displeasu
and anxiety of mind.
"Where have you been this internal
able while?" she demanded.
"In Miss Vann's studio, admiring h
pictures," I answered, calmly. "Ha
you seen the baron? He has just mai
me an offer of marriage, which I d
clined without thanks."
Her eyes flashed, her whole thin fa
Beemed to harden.
"Ah! We will talk of that anoth
time. He has left the house?he m
with an accident?slipped on the sta
and fell, or something. Who is that m?
talking to Miss Vann, and looking tb
way ?"
"Mr. Saxe," I answered. "One of h
artist friends."
Aunt Amelia's face grew black?si
remembers names. She ordered h
carriage at once, and I was whisked c
like magic, and without exchangli
another word with my lover. The mi
ment I reached home I went directly
the library where I found guardy wri
ing letters. As I entered in my bs
dress he looked up from his work
cold surprise.
"What! Home already?" he said.
I walked straight up to the table i
which he sat.
"Guardy, where is the letter whi<
Eric Saxe wrote to me about a certa
compact into which he entered wli
you several months ago?a letter whi<
you promised to deliver into my hand
and which I never saw?never ev<
heard of until tonight?"
V\a\T* hoon at Minn Vftnn'8. BO.
ho, in a tone of conviction, "and se<
that fellow again!"
"Yes!" I flashed; "and I know a
suardy?all your treachery and falsi
hood!"
He smiled calmly.
"My dear Bee, you are excited. T1
end Justifies the means. I acted on
for your good. I really supposed tl
beggar would have the sense to ke<
out of your way at the present. Hi
he been making love to you?"
"Yes; and I have promised to man
him."
"My dear child, that is nonsense, yc
know. Quite Impossible," he replie
with a calmly indulgent smile. "Y<
ire my ward, and I shall take got
:are that you do not throw yourse
iway upon a starving artist."
"Guardy, you have not acted in tl
least like a man of honor, and I w
never, never, marry anybody living bi
Erie Saxe!" And with that I turni
md left him.
Friday.?Eric has seen my guardia
[ fear the two had a stormy interview
[ was not allowed to know of it until
was over; then Aunt Amelia came in
my room and said;
"You will go no more to Miss Vann
your uncle forbids it He also forbii
you to see or communicate with thi
painter, Saxe. You have treated tl
baron in an outrageous manner. I a
grreatly displeased with you."
She is preparing some vial of wral
for me. I shall not be permitted to si
Eric. No matter?we can trust ea<
other now. I am rid of the baron, i
least.
Ethel avoids me in every way. Plaii
ly she wants no confidential talfc
either concerning my love affairs, i
her own. I am half happy, half mi
erable.
Jan. 29th.?It is all over?Ethel
married and gone! The grand amb
tion of Aunt Amelia's life is realized
she is the mother-in-law of a born n
bleman?ner aaugnier m a uuuuico
The newly wedded pair sailed yeste
[Jay for Europe, and nothing is talk<
of in society but the superb wedding
the gifts, the reception, the bride. B/
eyes are red, my nose Is swollen wi
weeping, my heart is like lead. I ha1
parted with the only relative I care f
in the least, and Heaven alone knov
when I shall see her again.
Can I describe the great event whi<
has thrown the fashionable world in
a fever of excitement? I feel confusi
and bewildered when I think of
Light, splendor, jewels, Paris dresse
costly flowers, marvelous music?the
things are all jumbled together in n
head as accessories to Ethel's grai
sacrifice on the altar of worldly amb
tion. There were hundreds and hui
dreds of fashionable guests, arrayed
purple and fine linen, crowding an u
tra-fashionable church; a small arn
of bridesmaids; plenty of wedding f
vors and smiling faces, and everythli
that could give eclat to the nuptials
Cullen Sardis's beautiful heiress.
As for Ethel, she wore brocaded s
tin, made with high, square neck ai
immense train; a veil of finest Bru
se!s point, orange blossoms and ma
niflcent diamonds?her father's gift
and she was simply perfect. The cou
looked very well, and tolerably happ
the foreign orders on his manly brea
were very edifying to us plebian r
publicans.
I was first bridesmaid; and my dre
of white silk and tulle was lovely; ai
I tried hard to imagine that I enjoy
the display and felt proud and hap:
like the rest of the Sardis race, b
rawed nopeitssiy. imuusuuui mc c
tire ceremony I was as dismal as a ra
en. Lawrence Harding: was in t
church?he had been included with t
Severne party in the invitations. Wh
possessed him to come and witness
scene which would give him nothi:
but pain? His face looked like gr
stone?as set and expressionless. E
he notice how pale Ethel was? Lite
ally, she was like a marble woma
but I suppose it is right and prop
that one should be pale on one's brie
day. She made her responses flrnr
enough, and the count's could be hea
all over the crowded church. Lawren
was seated next the aisle, and as s
turned from the altar?a countess?h
eyes met his fully for a moment. I t
lieve she is quite heartless. The heroi
of a novel would have fallen then a
there to the floor; but Ethel did not
ing of the kind. She went on withe
the smallest sign of agitation, enter
her carriage, and rolled off from t
church door; well satisfied, to all a
pearances, with the bargain she h
made.
I only hope that Lawrence will
straight and console himself with t
love of Alice Bradford, who looked
pretty as a rose at the wedding;. Ever
bodys knows that she adores Larry,
would serve Ethel quite right.
The reception was superb. Bar
Strozzi was there, smiling and unhan
ed, evidently, by that swift descent
the staircase at Miss Vann's gernru
When he offered his hand to Cou
Stahl the latter would not deign
touch or notice it; and everybody s:
this conspicuous snubbing, and n<
gossip is busy concerning the cat
thereof. Strozzi grew white with wra
but he had the prudence to avoid
scene and pocket the Insult silently,
have always suspected some curio
relation betwixt those two men. It
plain that they detest each other.
And now Ethel is gone and I am d<
olate! We went with her to the steal
er?by which "we" I mean a compa
[of relatives and choice friends. Hov
wept and clung to her at parting! Cot
Stahl frowned like an ogre, but I <
not care?he is no favorite of mil
Aunt Amelia was not In the least mc
ed, save by pride and gratified ami
tion; no more was guardy?cold-bloc
ed lot! No hotel in Paris, no castle
Saxony, none of the splendors prom
ed to her abroad can reconcile me
her loss.
Just before the steamer started Bi
on Strozzl made his appearance in me
3m group of friends that surrounded the
i?" distinguished pair. The count's face
ri- grew black, but he suffered the baron to
take him by the arm and lead him
dr. aside, and the two conversed In French
me tor several moments, greatly to the sur- ,
er. prise of those who had witnessed the r
:ed scene at the reception. I think it was of
it! an unpleasant matter of which they
ne talked, for both got red as lobsters, and
iur otherwise showed considerable agitate
tlon of mind. f
iv- I kissed Ethel for the last time. d
of "When?when shall we see you
again?" I sobbed. *
he "Very soon, I hope," she answered, n
brightly; "you will come to visit me In
iat Paris, with mamma. Dry your eyes,
?d, dear, and listen while I whisper a bit
in | of parting advice to you?don't let mam- j a
sis I ma marry you to Baron Strozzl!" I tl
I "Vnn think nne title enough In the I o
IU -
family?" said I. "Ia not Strozzl a friend .
x- ?or foe?of the count?" 11
ng She looked puzzled. o
a8 "One might naturally think bo?I do Ci
re not know, dear. Good-by?good-by! I _
shall write to you often."
n. And then the warning signal sound- 41
ed, and somebody seized and hurried me tl
er off the steamer, back to the wharf. The
ve ffreat craft slipped away from her p
(je moorings; and oh! shall I ever forget *
e. Ethel, as she stood on the deck, wav- p
ing an adieu to us: the wintry sun- n
ce shine on her beautiful, pale face and n
wonderful hair, one gloved hand full of
er hot-house exotics that some one had r<
et brought her as a parting gift, the count S]
jr tall and fair, by her side. How radiant, Cl
in how lovely she was! Farewell, darling
(is Ethel! Aunt Amelia has triumphed
She can now lay her head on her pll- ol
er low and die In peace, saying, "Verily, I w
have not lived In vain!" jj,
tie The baron drove home in our carrier
age, and dined with us. His manner to P'
iff me was courteous, but nothing more, tl
ig For once I was free from his odious at- tl
tentions. Brava!
to Jan. 30th.?Arose to find the door of
t. my chamber securely locked, and my- r<
ull self a prisoner! I shook the knob, I m
In called aloud in high Indignation, and
Anally Aunt Amelia appeared, cold.
omnious, sarcastic.
at "What doss this mean?" I cried it
wrathfully. hi
>h She has no more blood than a fish. .
In She surveyed me In calm displeasure,
th "It means, Beatrix, that you will re- ?i
>h main In your own room until you are
|? ready to obey my wishes. Now that
Ethel's marriage is over, I feel that I .
must turn my attention to you. It Is tr
Id my command that you accept Baron pi
;n Strozzl as your future. husband; and n
until you do so you will remain under J
H, lock and key, as at present"
5It was so sudden, so unexpected, that vl
I could only stare at her, amazed, un- si
comprehending. ai
ie "Finette will bring your meals to
ly you," she went on, "and attend to your "
le wants. Here. In seclusion, you will bi
>p have plenty of time to meditate upon jj(
is your own stubborn conduct and the
duty you owe to me and to your uncle."
ry "My uncle!" I burst out; "can he, r<
will he allow you to treat me like this? ai
>u It is simply infamous!" y(
d, "Your uncle has full confidence In *
,u' my wisdom and Judgment," replied Mrs "
xl Sardis, calmly. "Any course which I
df may consider necessary to adopt with h
you will meet his approval. Hope noth- _
ie Ing from him. When you make up your ni
HI mind to marry the baron, say to Fi- pi
ut nette that you wish to see me, and I tl
will visit you and talk the matter over.
Until then, farewell."
n. She rustled out with a severe air, and ^
locked the door behind her. tl
It Half an hour after Finette came In
to with my breakfast. She gave me a long,
curious look, and made some casual re- "
'8( mark In French, which I did not deign O]
jg to answer.
at I am beside myself with wrath and t(
ie perplexity. I am a prisoner, and must
m remain such till I consent to marry the '
baron. In that case I shall never
th breathe free air again, for the tortures ^
Se from the rack would not wring such a .
promise from me!
it (To be continued.)
11
V HEALTH FOUND IN WALKING a
- ?
8" Exercise Neglected Because It is 8o
,8 Very Cheap.
i- Nothing will reduce the prevalence w
? of sickness during the winter more n
than the formation of the habit of tak- ,
B! H|
r. ing long walks at least twice a week,
- - - w
id declares ine r*ew xuia wux?u. xx
? enta are Interested In keeping their ^
[h .children well, they should become Inye
terested In their establishing this habit,
or if it costs as much to take an hour's ^
vs walk as It does to provide for several jj
:h doses of a patent medicine, walking
to would be valued as medicine very much ^
sd more than It Is now. It Is because It
Is so cheap that so many neglect It. *
se Speaking from the standpoint of a
physician alone, It is safe to say that '
^ the digestion of the average city man, n
n- woman and child would be Improved ,
in 100 per cent, by taking a short, brisk j
walk every day, and a walk of at least .
two hours, twice a week.
a" The great trouble from which our
public school children suffer is malnu- ci
0 trltlon and the resulting anaemia. This g
Is due less to Insufficient food than it Is
due to lnaproprlate food and less to In- w
a appropriate food and proper mastica- "
tlon than to the inability of the body li
^2 to utilize what is eaten on account of v
t lack of tone of the stomach and lntes".
tines. There is no surer way of toning r<
*L: up the digestive system into vigorous h,
. health than by following the walking
routine outlined above. Walking will *|
gg not fill decayed teeth, but It will do
n(1 many more things for the body than ?
ed will any one tonic, however admlnls- ci
py tered. tl
ut ii
n" War Time-Tables.?In these days, h
v- when we hear of mobilization from all
Pe quarters, it is interesting to note the
ne continual preparedness of Germany in w
at all matters pertaining to railway g
a transit. She holds with the maxim that a
nK "He who strikes first strikes twice." .
a-v At all times, even when there is no
>,d talk of war In the air, there Is locked ?
!r* up in every German station-master's
n! desk a set of war time-tables?a separ- ^
[ei" ate time-table for every country with
'a' which a war is possible, including
>ly France Britain and Russia, while even h
rt> Austria-Hungary is not exempt. When- tl
ever war is declared, every station- ^
master picks out the particular time,er
table required, and at once all the "
,e~ trains run automatically on "war time," ti
n* and for war purposes. Each time-table e
is revised once a year, in order to fit in
with any alteration that may have
been made in the plans of the cam- d
f paign. Each man liable to serve In the
he reserve is in possession at all times of a
p" a warrant for travel, and when war .
ad breaks out does not require to wait on
instructions, but must report himself E
Ro at once to his particular territorial de- p
he pot, or at latest by 10 o'clock on the u
aS morning following the declaration of
y* war. Otherwise he is liable for a heavy
II penalty. w
All carriages are marked with the u
?n number of soldiers they can carry,
o- trucks with the size and weight of can
" non irmi I'un ue iuhucu uii im-iii, auu
in- the number of horses that can be taken t
Int on each vehicle. t
to Of course, all the railways belong to .
1W the state, and this simplifies matters;
ow but in time of war everything gives 0
,se way before the army.?Tit-Bits. b
th.
I a e:
I Rescue From Electric Shock.?In a
ius dealing with persons suffering from f,
Is electrical shock, if the victim remains
in contact with the circuit, his body
>s- must not be touched by the rescuer,
m- but the latter may pull him out of con- h
ny tack by hauling on the clothing, or he p
v I may take off his own coat, insert his
int hand in the sleeves and then handle
lid the victim with little or no risk. s
ne. Almost any article of clothing or ma- t<
?v- terial may be used, provided it is dry c
hi- and of moderate thickness. Dr. Morton
id- points out that death from electrical
in shock is only an apparent death at f
is- first, and that there is practically al- tl
to ways a time during which it is possible n
to resuscitate the victim by artificial
ir- respiration.?The Lancet. 11
IfUsftUanrous #eadinfl. SJu
? practic
A CRIMINAL FROM CHOICE awh,le
satisfif
dan of Culture and Refinement Be- then h
eomes Forger. blank
A criminal for the pure love of It! Havi
A crook who "played the game," not enJ?y^
rom a desire for gain, nor through the his em
lemands of dire necessity, but from obtaln
heer longing for the seat and excite- wlthou
fient of the chase. need o
Originally from an excellent family,
rith Independent means, equipped with B{iuand
splendid education and with abilities h,s ow
hat would have insured a success In 'ruBal
lmost any branch of honest endeavor, 1
: seems almost unbelievable that any
ne would choose instead a career of ba'anc<
rime merely for the thrill that accom- that
anied the deception of his victims and wa* m<
iat he gained In eluding the officers of An(* 'n
)e law. a I??*?
Tet such. In brief, Is the record of t,ve ln
udolph Masling, linguist, artist, ex- Yet 1
ert accountant and mining engineer, *,on( t0
tan of letters, and last, but by no
teans least, master forger, lately ar- su'
Jsted In New York after a series of an<* re?
jectacular swindles successfully exe- men w'
Jted, says the Pittsburg Leader. ?
His case has attracted the attention The '
f medical men and psychologists, e^orta
ho are striving to ascertain the funomental
causes that lie behind his agaln t
scullar crinkle. They have found that
tere is no apparent outward cause for h,a
ie man's evident moral deformity. *? 'mp
He is sober, Industrious and addict- 8UBP'ci<
1 to none of the dangerous drugs that when t
ake their victims morally, If not le- wron*
illy, responsible for their acts. More- Instei
fer, his medical history shows noth- hdence
ig, either In his own life or in that of be>t WJ
Is immediate ancestry, which might Th,s
Ter an explanation for his strange b'm wa
imlnal tendencies. ou* 'ori
His case seems to be entirely unique. ot 1
According to his own statement? le8t bb
lis Is borne out by the records of the "hould
Dllce?It is no more possible for Mas- ^
ng to refrain from his illegal acts l'eve hi
tan it would be possible for a morphine b,e t0 1
Ictim to renounce the drug which en- ?*Pert
aves him. He recognizes his danger vestlga'
id knows that disgrace must lnevl- ?tatem?
ibly follow a continuance of the habit tlal del
ut Is utterly unable to forego Its de- over ^
ghts. many t
So It seems to be with Masling. He Tet
tcognized that his ultimate discovery Masling
id conviction were absolutely certain, 80 ^ar 1
st declared It to be impossible for And hi
Im to reform. to pern
Perhaps the best that can be said of though,
Im is that apparently he Is anxious to respons
lake every amend In his power for his ??t I
ilsdeeds, the best proof of which Is. proffere
lat he voluntarily gave himself up he kne
> the police. Had he wished he could assured
?slly have escaped?at least for a his sup
me?and he could speedily have sat- 8el^ UP
ifled the demands of his dupes and wlth fo
lade restitution of the money his big "I*'8
perations had cost them. ca8e- '
"It's the only thing for me to do," he can't k
)ld the police lieutenant to whom he The i
jrrendered himself. "As long as I'm to his <
ut I can't help being a crook. I don't as a b<
now why it Is, I don't need the money the san
have every reason to keep 'straight.' ,n& the
"But I love the excitement of It It's proved
ke the 'dope' habit with me. I've lost years,
wife and friends through my weak- Accoi
ess, but I can't stop being 'crooked.' was on
0 I guess maybe the best thing for me tu"y
1 to do another 'stretch.' This one school
111 be a long one and It may cure of anot
"? " the sell
IVi
The police, however, have some heaval
oubts of this, for Masllng's record of natural
rongdolng is a long one. He is now 52 note. 1
cars old and has served at least three accusal
jrms in prison. On each occasion af- resigne
>r being liberated he has lived honest- It wt
' for some time, and then the fatal that th
isclnatlon for the excitement of his was to<
legal art has claimed him. sole re;
Even if he is now convicted under utter tl
le "habitual criminal" act and given school
ten-year sentence, the police declare nation
e will resume his old-time operations ed for
nee he has served his time. They look From
pon his criminal failing as a form of years 1
tania, and it is this which the physi- tain ha
lans and psychologists who have been resulte<
tudying Masllng are trying to ascer- never
dn. statemi
Apparently Masllng lacks all sense of years {
ontrol when the desire to commit for- tended
ery assails him. It is like a disease, pealed
'hlch remains dormant for indeter- the pie
llnate periods, only to return with an imltatii
lcreased force to wrack and wreck its In th
Ictim, as malaria, in certain forms, well-to
iturns again and again to those who prosper
ave once contracted it. sylvani
According to Masllng's statement to him inl
ie police, certain signatures have a to seek
~Kim fV?nf la ontnallv lin. It Wfl
ao^iiiaiiuii iui IUII? t**?v Ti - -- m j. ?
anny. He is unable to think of any- menced
tiingr else until he has successfully grinning
nltated the handwriting that attracts creased
im. ed com
And such signatures are usually those cess w?
rhlch are considered to offer the est crii
reatest difficulties to the forger. The overrea
verage man's chirography does not hands (
iterest this unique penman?perhaps As C
ecause it can be copied too readily. ed to t
It was this that brought Masllng to forgery
is present plight. As long as the head wife,
f the large manufacturing concern would <
1 which he had held a trusted posi- ady, re
Ion for more than two years attached incarce
is signature to the firm's checks, trials o
lasting remained honest. The slgma- his relf
lire was a simple one and one that For I
ven a tyro might have copied sue- of his
essfully. Therefore Masllng had no practic
eslre to imitate it made r
Speaking five languages fluently, be rum
ble and discreet, Masllng speedily again
ecame the firm's confidential man. and in
lis employers knew nothing of his New Y
rlson-record and counted him a val- Sing S
able addition to their organization, termini
'hey paid him handsomely and this, him, at
rtth some private means which Mas- further
ng possessed, made his position an And
nvlable one from every point of view, the toil
Then the head of the concern decided he sayi
o relinquish some of the responslbill- While 1
les of the business and turned over danger
he detail of attending to the checks to large.
ne of his partners. At once Masling Mear
ecame restless and discontented. He are str
yed the new signature apprehensively should
nd with dread, for he knew that his stitutlo
atal weakness would compel him to for It
ssay its imitation. strange
Every time a check passed through treatmi
Is hands, which was frequently, in his
ositlon of trust, he pored over the sig- j^TTh
ature. Then he would recover him- tune n<
elf with an effort and send the checks ,
was rlc
o the bank before the temptation be- #jrp0
ame too great to bear. war wj
All these things he has told both his giene e
ormer employers and the police, and In July
he former have confirmed them in All
early every particular, in so far as it
9 possible for them to do so. tage."'
two months Masling resisted n
ition. Then he commenced to
ie his employer's signature. For U
the mere act of imitating It
*d this strange criminal, and
e began placing it on the Arm's ^
checks. tl:
ng full charge of the books and
lg the complete confidence of al
ployers, it was an easy thing to ai
money, whenever he wished,
t exciting suspicion. He had no tb
f the money himself, and what dl
Ined in this way he usually
ered or gave away. Yet, with u'
n money, Masling was always
and economical.
he time that he persisted in his m
operations he had a comfortable
> at his own bank. The salary yc
? received from his employers bu
>re than ample for all his needa 8s
addition to all this he was left yo
? i- 1 A AAA tn
y UI WOBC vu 9iV|VW ujr m iw ?
Germany. Ui
ie could not resist the tempta- Id
counterfeit the signature that D<
ted him. He knew it was wrong. Or
fered agonies of apprehension Le
rret for the wrong he was doing th
10 trusted and had been kind to ch
lut he could not stop,
very danger that attended his ofl
to deceive, held the secret of the pa
tion, which led him again and thi
0 pursue his nefarious prac- po
He grew bolder and bolder. of
1 employers had not trusted him inj
llcltly they must have become wc
>ua of him long before. Even wc
hey knew that something was ch
they did not suspect him. wc
id they took htm Into their con- kn
and asked his advice as to the de
ty of discovering the culprit wc
final proof of their regard for de
s too much for Masllng. With- co;
malltv he made a clean breast ed
vhole matter. He feared to wait pr
i suddenly formed resolution ab
forsake him. thi
?a UI- - ? Ka
si hid cmyiujci o iciuocu w wv- an
m. His action seemed Incredl- it
them. Then they called in an m,
accountant and his initial In- co
tion showed that Masl lug's tei
;nt was correct In every essen- en
all. His operations, extending ve
lalf a dozen months, totaled cjf
housands of dollars. ut
they were loth to prosecute. ^
r agreed to make restitution, In te,
as his private means permitted. cj|
s employers were even willing
lit him to remain with them m|
of course, not In his former m]
lble position. ^
Hasllng feared to accept their ve
id generosity. He declares that po
w his strange weakness would ca
ly return. So without consulting ,
erlors In any way, he gave him- ^
to the police, charging himself fa|
rgery In the first degree.
the best way," he sums up his ha
'As long as I'm out of prison I
eep from going wrong." ov
itory that he told the police and ^
employers is a strange one. Even c0
>y It seems he was obsessed by _
ne
ne peculiar penchant for lmitat- ^
i handwriting of others which
so serious for him In later
pe
by
rdlng to his statement, when he ^
ly 12 years of age he so success- ^
urged the handwriting of the
principal In a note to the father
her pupil who was a member of
100I board as to cause an upcr
in the school. The principal ^
ly denied the authority of the
There were recriminations and
Jons and finally the principal
d his position.
8fL
is not until nearly a year later
ie facts came out and then It
ne
0 late to do anything. And the
aeon that Impelled Masllng to a
lis forgery was his dislike of the pe
principal and the weird fascl- ^0
which his handwriting possess- r<
him. ve
1 time to time during his later 8?
the fatal attraction which cer- *
.ndwrltlngs exercised over him z'"
i in his Imitating them, but
criminally, according to hif na
snt, until fifteen or sixteen w'
Lgo. Then the danger that at- ,n
the passing of forged paper ap- ch
to him even more strongly than ar
asure he enjoyed in successfully ta
ng another's chlrography. w)
le meantime he had married a ,,c
-do girl and was engaged in a
ous mining business in Penn- ar
a. His strange obsession led be
to difficulties and he was forced ,n
other fields for his efforts,
s at this time that he first com- ba
I his criminal operations. Be- '8
r on a small scale, he soon in- bu
I his forgeries until they reach- 'n
slderable proportions. His sue- to
is such that, as even the clever- th
ninals are sure to do, he at last do
.ched himself and got Into the th
the police. va
harlea Winkler he was sentenc- of
wo years and six months on a Is
charge In Newark In 1899. His ha
believing that the punishment m'
affect a cure of his strange mal- H?
malned loyal to him during his of
ration, sharing with him the sp
f living down the disgrace after rlt
sase. cl(
three years after the expiration all
prison term he refrained from so
Ing his dangerous faculty. He co
noney and everything seemed to of
nlng smoothly, when temptation co
assailed him. He was caught Is
October, 1905, was sentenced In ho
ork city to serve five years In so
lnsr orison. Then his wife de- da
*d that there was no help for co
id refused to associate with him tie
now for the third time he Is In cr
s. this time by his own wish. As ce
i: "Perhaps It's the best way." th
lie remains as he is, he Is far too foi
ous to the community to be at an
pr
iwhlle physicians and alienists in
lvlng to determine whether he th
not be Incarcerated In some in- th
n other than the state prison, ca
may be that his is only some th
? form of mania which proper th
?nt would cure. an
, , ih
CO
e man who has piled up a for- '
iver wasted any time wishing he
,y, th
:h. j
Btponed once because of Italy's
th Turkey, an international hyxposttlon
will be held in Genoa T1
ed
oylng tin with lead, a German Gf
it has produced a porus tin the th
as of which is Its chief advanpo
WW YLLLUW METAL 18 BOUGH"
ncl* 8am Takaa All tha Gold Brough
To Hit Mints or Assay Office.
Suppose that you owned a gold mine
Hiat would you do with the gold? Ii
te ordinary commercial Unea the mar
>tlng of the product depends upoi
alllty to place It before the people
id Involves the meeting of competlan,
adjustment of freight rates ant
ie surmounting of numerous llttl<
Acuities, all of which have & bearg
upon the ultimate result of youi
idertaklng. With gold it Is differit
Uncle Sam stands ready to buy
1 of the gold brought to his mints oi
say offices.
There are three coinage mints where
>u would be able to dispose of youi
illlon, viz., Philadelphia, Denver and
in Francisco. Should it happen that
>ur mine was not located convenient
any of these mints you would find
llted States assay offices at Boise,
aho; Carson, Nev.; Charlotte, N. C.;
sadwood, 8. D.; Helena, Mont; New
-leans, La.; New York City: Salt
ike, Utah, and Seattle, Wash. At
eae Institutions gold bullion Is pur*
ased and forwarded to the mints.
You would take your gold Into the
Ice and watch it weighed upon s
Ir of balances so sensitive that alough
they had several hundred
unds in each pan one one-hundredth
an ounce would be indicated. HavX
weighed your gold, the officials
>uld issue a receipt for it, which you
>uld keep until you received your
eck or coin in payment Your gold
>uld then have become what is
own In the office as a "deposit." This
posit with many others like it,
>uld be turned over to the melting
partment, where, in a specially
nstructed furnace, it would be meltin
a plumbago crucible with the
oper fluxes and poured into a Buttle
mold. Simple a* this may sound,
e melting of gold 1b a very serious
d difficult task. The high heat which
is necessary to generate In order to
jlt the metal, necessitates a furnace
nstructed of the most refractory marial.
These furnaces are usually opited
by gas or oil and are built of the
ry finest grade of fire brick and fire
ly. The plumbago crucible which is
ed is composed of graphite (the
me material that comprises the cenr
of your lead pencil), a little fire
ly and a little sand. In the manucture
of these crucibles, great care
list be taken to secure a uniform
Ixture of the component parts, so
at when heated no portion of the
ssel wll expand more than any other
rtion. Unequal expansion would
use cracking.
The crucibles are fashioned in molds
d dried, or burned in kilns, after a
ihlon similar to dishes or bricks,
ley are made in all sizes from those
,vlng the capacity of an after-dinner
(fee cup to Immense sizes holding
er twelve gallons. Before melting
>ld in one of these crucibles it is nessary
that it be very carefully anal
ed, which means that the last pos)le
traces of moisture must be exiled
by slowly ln^easlng the ternrature
for several days. This is done
placing: the crucibles In a steam
ated oven, where the process is carHi
forward until It la deemed that
e vessel Is in suitable shape to be
iced in the Are. Covers and stirrers
e made of the same material as the
ucible. The latter are used to stli
e gold In the crucible after It li
elted. Covers and stirrers pass
rough the same annealing process as
e crucibles, although it is not necesry
to take so much care with them.
Gold coming direct from a mine Is
ver pure. It may contain various
se metals, the nature of which dends
upon the process by which the
>ld was won from Its matrix. Gold
am stamp mills contains some iron,
ry likely some copper and often
me quick silver. From cyanide mills
e bullion nearly always contains
nc, as this metal Is made use of In
e process. The sine, too, may alec
.vp contained impurities, some ol
filch will very likely be In the resultg
bullion. Copper has some of the
aracterlstlcs of gold, both physical
id chemical, as that If copper is conined
In the original ore some of It
111 be very likely contained in the bulin.
Silver la always associated with
ild In the ores of the latter. The
nounts may vary greatly, but It may
i stated that silver is always presenl
gold ores.
The problem of the melter who
.qdles the deposits at the assay office
to make from the deposit a bar ol
L* ?"1 U/v hnmAceononna ftf
uiion wmcn win uc iituQvuww?i w.
other words, a perfect mixture from
p to bottom and from end to end ol
e gold and other metals. In order to
i this he places in the crucible with
e deposit a stated amount of flux,
rylng with the size and composition
the deposit The virtue of this flux
to remove a certain portion of the
se metals and likewise to form a
alten mass over the top of the buln
which will prevent volatilization
the precious metals. It is lighter in
eciflc gravity than the metal and
ies to the surface of the melt. For
;an bullion the flux is composed usu[y
of borax. Perhaps some little
da will be added. For bars which
ntain five or ten per cent or more
the base metals the flux will be
mprlsed more largely of soda. This
just tne ordinary soua wnicn mc
usewlse uses in colaboratlon with
ur milk to make biscuits or other
lnties. Niter is also used on bars
ntalning large amounts of lmpurl18.
Having placed the deposit In Its
uclb!e In the furnace, with the nessary
fluxes, the heat is applied and
e metal and flux melted in thirty to
rty-flve minutes. The melter puts on
i Immense pair of asbestos mitts to
otect his hands from the Intense heat
d removes the cover of the furnace
e cover of the crucible and taking
e stirrer in a pair of Iron tongs, he
refully stirs the entire contents ol
e crucible. The stirrer was placed In
e furnace at the time the crucible
d charges were admitted, and Is ol
e same temperature as the other
ntents. On very dirty or Impure
rs this stirring may be done two or
ree times the furnace being closed
order that the heat be brought up to
e required point after each stirring,
le molds into which the gold Is pourare
made of Iron, and a full stock
the various sizes is kept on hand so
at, no matter what the size of the dealt,
a bar will be turned out with a
p wiatn approximately twice ita depth
and a length about twice lta width. Int
to thla receptacle the melter pt-jra the
contents of the crucible. The metal
>. alnka to the bottom, and the alas, aa
i the flux la known after It haa paaaed
. through the proceaa, rises to the top.
i After the metal and slag have solidified
the mold la overturned, the slag sep.
a rated from the bar, the bar cleanI
ed and weighed. In order that the de5
poeitor may receive pay for every bit of
. gold which properly belongs to him,
. the Inside of the crucible la scraped
. clean and the slag treated by being
, crushed to powder and panned in a
. miner's gold pan. The problem of the
melter, then, It will be seen, is to add
, tne proper flux, to see that the furnace
. produces the high heat which is necesI
sary in order to successfully melt the
. charge, to have its crucibles in such
. shape that they will not break in the
I furnace when subjected to the high
heat and to dexterously pour the bullion
into the mold and recover the val,
uee from the slag.
The weight of the granules which
have been recovered from the slag is
added to the weight of the bar, and
this amount is the weight of bullion
, for which the depositor is paid. It is
then the as Bayer's business to determine
the proportions of gold, silver
and base metal in the bar. These proportions
are reported to thousandths.
He obtains a sample by means of a
special clipping machine designed for
the purpose.
A complicated chemical process is
necessary to determine the fineness of
i this sample. It cannot be described In
detail here. Suffice It to say that the
process Is based upon the fact that
from an alloy of gold and sliver In
which silver predominates in the ratio
of about three t oone, it is possible to
dissolve the silver by nitric acid, leaving
the pure gold behind. To a weighed
portion of it the bullion is added an
amount of silver which will bring the
proportion up to three to one. if it is
rich in gold, or, if it is rich in silver,
sufficient gold to bring it up to the
same proportion. This sample weighs
one thousand gold weight, or one half
gramme; very nearly seven and seven
'tenths grains. It is rolled up within a
piece of pure lead foil weighing about
two grammes. An exact duplicate of
this is made, as are also two similar
samples from the opposite side of the
bar. Two other samples are prepared
i of a weighed amount of absolutely
pure, or "proof gold, and silver, caHed
i the proof samples. A fourth set of
i samples is made from one thousand
' gold weight of the bullion, which is
likewise Incased in lead.
These samples are then placed in cui
pels, in a furnace which has been he&t,
ed to a bright red. A cupel is a small
dish, a little more than an inch In dl>
ameter, made of boneash, and boneash
' is pulverized calcined animal bones. A
; cupel has the property of absorbing
: oxides of lead and other base metals
when these oxides are formed during
cupellatlon. What occurs in the fur
nace is practically this: The lend and
other metals melt, and as the air
passes over this molten mass the lead
i and base metals oxidize rather rapidly,
i A portion of these oxides are absorbed
by the cupel and other portions pass
off In the form or vapor, me uwu
> suit of the process Is a globule of gold
' and silver. The first three sets of
' samples (the top, bottom and proofs)
' which contain the proper proportion of
1 gold and silver for parting, as the nli
trie acid treatment Is known are
1 rolled out thin and placed In small
cups of platinum. These cups fit neatly
into a basket of the same material
i and the whole Is then suspended In a
i platinum cup containing boiling nitric
acid which dissolves the silver, leaving
' pure gold In the cup. This Is very
1 carefully dried at a low heat, placed in
> the furnace to be momentarily heated
i to a cherry red, removing the last
1 possible trace of moisture and weighed
1 on the scales upon which the samples
> were originally prepared. This weight
' shows the amount of gold In the bul
lion, after making the necessary corrections
Indicated by the proof sam'
pies' gain or loss during the process.
1 The fourth set of samples, which after
cupellatlon are globules composed of
?' * ?"<< ?wv#r the base metal having
Bv<u a?iv> .
' been driven off during the cupellatlon,
1 are weighed without any further pre!
llmlnaries. Their lose In weight ln'
dlcatea the amount of base metal
: which was in the bullion. Having determined
gold arid base metal, the dlf'
ference is reckoned as sliver.
The assayer having completed his
work, reports the fineness of the bar
and the clerical force gets busy on the
1 calculation of Its value. Knowing the
weight of the bar and the proportions
' of gold and sliver It Is a mere matter
1 of figures to arrive at its value. This
done, you are given either a check or
1 United States coin upon surrendering
the receipt which was given you when
1 you deposited your bullion.?Scientific
American.
Qussr Checks.?There is a bank
clerk in a western city who has for
years Indulged in a hobby of collecting
bank checks drawn on queer articles.
There hangs about this clerk's
desk a torn linen collar, a piece of
lath, a cuff and various other objects
used for the purpose of drawing money
from the bank.
Each of these has a story. The
* * t-l~ nrith a
cierK Degan ma cunocuuu n ?.?? ?
piece of lath. This waa honored by
the bank for $260. It was made Into
a check by the owner of a sawmill,
who, with his son, was at the plant
with no checkbook. The money was
needed to pay the hands. The sawmill
man wrote on the lath just what
a check correctly drawn would bear
and sent his son to the bank to get
the money and explain. The lath
' check was honored after some discussion
among the bank officers. The
cuff was drawn by an actor, who
while intoxicated, had engaged In fist|
cuffs with a fellow Thespian and had
been arrested. He was treated cavalierly
In his cell. As he could obtain
| no paper, he bribed a boy to take the
cuff check to a bank. In due course
the player received his money and
paid his line. If one carries a good
account It Is probable that his bank
will honor his check even If drawn
' In a freaky way, but as a general thing
they are loath to encourage that sort
of procedure.?New York Press.
XT Some people make light of trouble;
others keep It dark.