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? v-v- ?'V ? V . ' $2r r: " . ??--?.?^?????^???????????i? i8sotep 8e]?'webkly, . l. *. oeist's sons, Pabiiihan. } % 4ami,S $f ?spa jei;: ^or fog {promotion of (h< jpolifigat, JSogiat, ^griqultuqat and Communal Jnltrists of flig { """.o'^oopy!^^^""' established 1855. Y~ORKTILLE, 8. C., FRIDAY. JULY 18, 1913. ~~~ ~ NO. 57. ??-a-? a-8???bgbbggg . *-gg? The Mie By CHARLES TE Author of 'Che Day of Souls, (Copyright 1911, The Bobbs-Merril cy?<tKy9<HyKM^<Myr(N)> SYNOPSIS OF THE MIDLANDER8. Aurelie was stolen from the Holy Family Orphanage in New Orleans, when a tiny child, by Uncle Michigan, and taken to the swamps to Master Captain to be brought up to lead the people back to their own?for he was a Confederate who had not surrendered. But he died, so Aurelie and Uncle Mich' started out to see the world, eventually sailing up the Mississippi, and landing at Rome, Iowa, a small town with large ideas of class, caste, and family precedent. Here Aurelie grows up, an elfish, gypsy-like child, scorned and misunderstood by the townspeople; she and Uncle Mich' living in the Pocket Quar. ry with the Ldndstroms. John the father was a fanatic, and after losing his suit, filed for the loss of his arm in a stonecrusher, he became rabid against the laws and the town. Aurelie's only friends were Harlan Van Hart, son of the Judge, and her lover, and "Wiley Curran, editor of the i News, the weekly paper, a romantic dreamer who shocks everyone with his radical Ideas. Wiley Curran sends her pictures to 1 the beauty contest in a Chicago paper, and to everybody's surprise, she wins it Such publicity and vulgarity shocks the people of Rome. Harlan is incensed, and their love affair is broken off. CHAPTER VI To Oocupy the Land Aurelie sped up the narrow road that skirted the rocky face of Eagle 1 Point bluff, on one side the creeK shrouded with laurel and sumac, on the other the uncouth board fences of 1 the rear lots of the town. She did not heed her steps. Once, on a rise of the 1 path, she stopped and gazed stonily ' back at the lights of the house. At last she seemed to understand that 1 she had been bowed out, dismissed in a manner so marvelously gracious < that she, the little fool, had not known 1 it?she had stood with a heart so full of gratefulness that she had not dared 1 trust her voice; she had given all with an Inexplicable rapture of renuncia- 1 tion. She was burning with a fear that she had been outrageously trick- 1 ed, and then a knowledge that, in I some desolating way, the mother was ' right. I "She never shook hands witn me," the girl whispered and climbed on, her ' pale face turned to the hills, "she just ' smiled! And had her way! Oh, I wish I could do that? that's being a 1 lady!" Then she turned fiercely to < look back. "I hate 'em?all of 'em! I They're different. Harlan's different? ? I see now!" ' Then a last faint note of the piano ' came on the night wind, and she shut her ears with her hands and fled on to gain the cliff, up, anywhere, to silence 1 and to freedom. She burst around the 1 buttress of rock where the road ended in Eagle Point trail, and there, direct- ' lv behind the News office fence, a man In shlrt-8leeve8 was emptying a basket of bottles down the creek bank. The girl almost struck him as she sped across the foot-bridge. He stopped his task, looked up, cried after her, and then followed. She reached the trail and heard him toiling on among the boulders. "Aurelie!" he gasped: "What's the matter?" She did not answer and he leaped on. But the girl gained swiftly on him, steep as the ascent was, until he saw her slip on a pinnacle of rock, heard her cry out and pitch down into 1 a hollow filled with dry leaves. He ' UtUUCU UII IV I111U UVi u p* lovuvt <? ?..v Pocket, waist deep In the leaves, sul- ] .len, breathing hard, her hair disordered. She would not look at him. I "Aurelie?what on earth's the mat- i ter?" I "I fell and broke my arm." i He leaped down and struggled to ] her. They both were panting. "You're i suffering!" Mr. Curran gasped. 1 She laughed and flung a bloody lit- 1 tie hand up to him. He saw her tense i and tragic figure; there was more , mortal hurt there. i He took her arm and she rebelled, pulling It away until she writhed with | pain. But he made her sit, and tore his handkerchief to bind the cut, after ( examining it. i "It's not broken, Aurelie! Only gashed?maybe sprained." I "I wish it was broken?everything!" He could hear her heart beat as he ] bent to bind the wrist. "You little ] savage?running off wild like this, i And the prize v.inner, Aurelie! The most beautiful girl in all the west, ( they say!" ( She stared dumbly at him. Perhaps he, too, was mocking her, playing on her full heart, her heedless generosity, her hungry soul, her love. There was none of her small poses and airs about her now, but the Celt's romance stirred in him at some wild beauty in her. When he had bound her arm she quivered, and he had a sense she was about to leap from him like a creature of the woods at the chance of freedom. Then she turned to him. "She fooled ,me; and I'm going away." "Fooled you?" "His mother. And I said I'd give him up to her, but now I see she only fooled me. I hate them now?and him, too!" "Aurelie!" Mr. Curran was bewildered. "I never knew of this affair? you and Harlan. It's astounding"? he rubbed his forehead?"impossible!" "You think so, too?" she blurted. "All right. I'm a fool, I guess. But I'll show 'em." She came directly to him. Oh, Mr. Curran, I want to go away! I told 'em I'd give up this prize thing, if he wanted me to. But now it's different. Mr. Curran, I want to be somebody!" She was staring at him in the moonlight. Mr. Curran could not stand that; his own vagabond heart throbbed mightly. He, too, was the exile, the outlander. To be somebody! Right then and there, Mr. Curran knew he would lead any forlorn hope for her, for any one who wanted to be somebody. LANDERS NNEY JACKSON My Brother's Keeper, Etc. 1 Company.) "You are!" he cried. "And you can go away, too, and show 'em!" Her white face stirred a bit Then, with the direct simplicity of her downriver vparn Rhp muttered- "Mr Our ran, I could Just love you, I never would have been a beautiful girl If it hadn't been for you!" Mr. Curran sat down and rubbed the bald spot on his head. He was a man who had walked alone and known the sorrow or evil. He put a kindly hand to her shoulder. He was trying to believe he had a great fatherly pity for her. "Now, little girl," he said, "let's walk the trail home. It's beautiful? we can see the river In a moment? there! The Mississippi! 'Way off there you came from, didn't you? I lived there once, Aurelle. I left a bit of my heart there among your people. You're something of a sa vage, and you'll never get rid of what the wilderness put in you?never, never?God bless you! People will never understand, but I do!" nl^k/v/1 ??T n.UU inbA our oiguru. a m ion > uu j lanr uic away, Mr. Curran?and let me do something- Just like Uncle Mich said: 'To occupy the land!*" "You shall!" he cried riotously. "Why, what a chance you've got, Aurelie! You're the little rebel done come up the river to occupy the land! You must come to the office tomorrow, for two men are coming from Chicago to see you. The Sunday editor of the Chronicle, and an artist to draw you. And the Chronicle will give you a prize. One hundred dollars. It's not much. It's all an advertising scheme with the Chronicle, of course, but for you?Aurelle, you'll be rich and famous one of these days, just see If you're not!" She rubbed the bloody little bandage nn hpr wrist and stared nvi-r the town. "I Just will! And I Just love you, Mr. Curran! You're all the friend I got!" Mr. Curran gasped again. "I sure will help you, Aurelle. Thl?> old town's got no use for either of us. We're the Insurgents!" And he took her hand gaily on the path and danced her ilong until, to her set pale lips, a 3mile had to come. And after it a sob; ind then the smile again! When Mr. Curran left her at Llndjtrom's fence he went back in a dream to his old print shop. He lighted the gas and took his pipe, filled it, sat Jown and drew aimlessly on it half an hour before he discovered it was not burning:. "Wasting: my life," he muttered, "wasting my life! By Jove, that little girl's got me going! I'm going to wake up and do something-, too!" He did. He fumbled around until be found a match. The most beautiful girl perhaps in ill America! Could the sentimental Mr. Curran sleep after that? His hair was thin and he had swung the circle ind come back to the prosy old town, but no matter! He took a photograph sut of his de9k a dozen tines to study It. Some careless miracle of an obscure country studio had caught an irch stateliness, a breathing graoe, a spiritual purity that made the town gasp when it saw the thing?gasp, and then declare it could not possibly be the bootlegger's girl. Mr. Curran groped for the entrancement; yes, it was she?he had seen her face so in the moonlight. "The dear kid," he murmured, and kissed the picture and laid it away. Aurelie went about the next morning in a dream. She helped Mrs. Lind3trom with the breakfast dishes and then carried the baby out on the sunshine of the porch to play with him. Neighbor women came and went. Already they were discussing her, she knew. The household ha 1 been in a hubbub, she the calmest of them all? 1/1U A11CU1KUU 9 USlUUUUtU qucauuus, John's suspicious fanaticism, the wife's silly comments, the boys' puzzled awe. Aurelie a-going to have her picture In the paper! Well, it was like Aurelie. To Knute and Peter she was ever the princess off on amazing adventures, a fairy who played with them and yet was not of them. From the porch she watched them milking a lean-hipped heifer which they had aroused, standing with their barefeet in the steam of her bed to avoid the frosty grass. Knute shivered in his cotton shirt; above the singsong of the milking his chattering voice retorted t.o Peter: "Aw, Aurelie, she ain't a-goin' to get stuck up! She'll come out and go rabbit huntln' with us fellers even if she does get her picture In the paper!" Later she went past them In the yardjfc dressed in her test gown, a cheap fantastic circlet of brass in her hair which Uncle Michigan had given her years ago. She rarely wore a hat, for she had none to her pride. The boys yelled their friendly derision at her finery. From the porch Mrs. Llndstrom whined her fright. She was "clean upset" ny Aurenes lonune. But maybe it meant a job. "Lord knows we need it. John laid up with his arm and Albert not workin' steady. Maybe Aurelle would get a job in the News office, but Lord knows what would happen to a girl who got her name in the paper." She sniffled on to the neighbor woman, and Aurelle marched on with vast pride. Not all the beauty of the October sun level from the hills against the filigree of red and gold hung against the cliff face could stir this beaten labor woman of the cities. "Lord knows Aurelie'll get us all In the papers. Ain't my man had enough hard luck without this?" Aurelle went on, a slender scarlet figure on the leaf-carpeted creek road. She wilfully passed the bridge to cross Sinsinawa on the mossy stones among the rushing water. A red squirrel scolded her from the willows, and she charged him laughingly, her breath quick in the keen air, her eyey bright with delightful freedom. And while the squirrel barked Ms indignation from a safe tree, she laughed again, and then suddenly remembered that she was trying to be miserable, and yet rebelling against It with all her pride. When she came to the neat houses of High street the eyes of early housewives, airing their rugs, caught her gipsy figure; they whispered to the household, and noses flattened against the panes to watch her pass. Already, despite Mr. Curran's effort to hold the story for the Sunday papers, the town was buzzing with Aurelie Lindstrom's iiuiuiitiv. iv wna iv wtta 111| credulous; but when she passed it ran | to see and whispered. When she neared the square and passed a shop where the cheerful anvils rang; she was conscious that the work stopped, and the smiths came out of the blue haze in their leather aprons to stare after her; and when a farm wagon came along, heaped with frosted corn, the hired man hailed her; and when she passed the Hub Clothing Store, a dapper clerk called: "Hello, Aurelle!" And all the other clerks and the proprietor gathered open-mouthed, to whisper. She set her shoulders straighter and marched on Into the News office. The editor arose hastily and stared at her. Then he sighed and came to her with his hand out "Aurelle, I see it now!" "What?" she asked innocently. "The beauty winner! Oh, we're a lot of chumps around this old town! Here you grew up among us and nobody ever suspected. You're the most beautiful girl I ever saw!" ane sai aown perpiexeaiy. jhu Mlms, the tramp printer, toothless and whisky-soaked, grinned at her over his case. Aleck, the press boy, stopped his work. Rube Van Hart, the broken-down ball-player, stuftlng old papers into the stove, lifted his derby awkwardly: "Morning, Aurelie!" All the world seemed radiant with friendliness! The editor had her hand and refused to drop it. His eyes were bright with eagerness. "Right here In my old shop," he said, "is Cinderella!" She looked seriously at him. She had never known anybody like Wiley T. Curran. He seemed like a man who had produced a miracle when he merely meant to knock out his pipe. There It was, the sparks flew, and the fairy stood on tiptoes smiling at him! An Irishman had to believe in them. r*inrinroll<i " went nn CJurran. "there come the Chronicle men now from the Parsons House. Those people sent Max Jerome down to sketch you?the top-notch illustrator In the business." She had never heard of him. Two men came in: one fat, short, busylooking; the other a lanky youth who laid down a flat case of card papers and turned a good-humored Ironical face directly on her. "And you're Aurelle Lindstrom," he said. "Well, well!" The stout little man took her hand warmly at Curran's introduction. "The Chronicle wants to congratulate you, Miss Lindstrom. It's great! Curran. here, has been telling about'you"?he looked flustered for a minute?"and "It's great stuff! But we don't want these state papers to get in on this until we spread on it Sunday?understand! Don't let 'em get your picture, or buzz you. And we got to make that eleven-twenty train from the June tion"?he looked at his watch?"and Max wants to sketch you. We're going to run a three-color border on the sup that's a pippin. Wait till you see that Carmen effect of yours In the Chronicle layout. It's going to make 'em sit up." She didn't understand a word of it. she looked appealingly at Mr. Curran. Then she was conscious that Max, the artist, was sketching her swiftly, silently, glancing first at her and then at the light in the News' dingy windows and then at his board. "Say," went on the assistant Sunday editor, "I'm mighty glad you got it, Miss Lindstrom. You see the Chronicle contest was straight? it was no frame-up for one of these show girls, who are always butting in on these things. I tell you I never was so pleased at anything as to find you didn't know a thing about it!" "Not a blamed thing!" cried Mr. Curran, 'till I told her! Why, I even forgot I ever sent those pictures in. The most beautiful woman?" He stared at her, and then broke off mournfully: "Say, Dickinson, the grocer, telephoned this morning with an awful roar. Pulled his advertising out of the News and stopped the paper, because I sent , in his girl's picture! And she didn't get a look-in!" The Sunday editor chuckled. Max smiled ironically. He came to Aurelie with a deft firm touch of his white fingers. "A little more to the light, Miss Lindstrom. Just that?there." He stopped thoughtfully and looked down again. "Your hair?you couldn't have it done better on Michigan avenue. Some women can, you know, and some can't?some can't even buy it." He went back to his sketches. "There's a curious trick about you?" he began to work, and then stopped and laid down his pencil. "What's the matter, Max?" grunted the newspaper man. Max was watching her strangely. He muttered; then he said, without regard to his companion: "Miss Lindstrom, do you know you Interest me more than anything I've done since I did* some girls in Algiers. You? there's a bit of the Orient about you? or Mexico." "I'm a Creole, I think." she said pensively. "That's what Uncle Michigan said." The two Chicago men exchanged glances. "Oh, yes," the editor put in ?"Curran was saying. Your story? romantic. Miss Llndstrom. I've seen girls like you on Royal street. Not many, but once in a while a Creole with a beautiful face. But your story, Miss Lindstrom?great stuff?we're going to flash it big." He looked at his watch busily. "Max, you better kick in hard?" And in the silence she discovered again that the artist had stopped to watch her and his ironical smile was gone. Presently she heard him mutter and resume work, but ever and again he stopped to study her dreamily." "Got Max going," drawled the Sunday editor, "and they don't pass bad ones on Max. And the chaps who picked your picture, Miss Lindstrom, out of all that bunch?thousands and thousands of 'em?why, they're no slouches either. There was Plxley of the Art Institute, and Martlneau who has charge of the Philadelphia collection, and Benny Booth, who does that girl stuff for the syndicate. Three guys who ought to know. And they picked , She sighed luxuriantly and said nothing. Wiley was aghast at all this complacence. He followed her eyes, which were fixed on the morning peace of the court house lawn under the maples. Up the bluff she heard the bob-whites calling, and the gleam of a dove's wing came before the window. The most beautiful woman! One does not easily grasp It, if one < has lived an obscure life of common duties in a gray little world; at times ] hungry, chilled, hurt with rebuff, un- , dershot with sadness. One may wan- t der the world striving for gain or ] fame, dig for treasure, grow old, dim- | eyed, seeking applause, admiration, ] love?but here, at once, without ask- < lng, seeking nothing, knowing nothing, the jinnee had come and broken the \ magic vase at her feet! ' | She sighed again her luxurious , peace. The garrulous Sunday editor's ( voice came faintly through her.dream. , "When you come to Chicago the paper , will entertain you. The old man him- ; self is crazy about that picture?wants j a special wire as to what Max thought of you. When you get some clothes? er?Miss?Miss?" , "Not a bit," retorted Max. "It , would be a sin to put anything on her. , Look at her! . In the door-frame?the j maples on the bluff beyond her?the sun on that sumac! That little gown, , the circlet in her hair, the flower? < good God, girl, did you get yourself up ^ for this?" , She smiled complacently. "They make fun of me," she murmured, and , Max growled an unintelligible anathe- < ma on Rome, Iowa. ( And while she sat there with the eyes of the silent men upon her, a step ( sounded upon the sidewalk. Harlan ] came past. Her face grew rigid when t he saw her.. He appeared about to , swing into the News office in his old j genial fashion to see Wiley. Then he | met Aurelle's blank gaze and gazed as t hlanklv at her. She saw his blsr sen- < w ' " < sitlve nose quiver, he stared furiously at Max and his work, so furiously that she was frightened and tried to speak to him. But her voice failed her, and Harlan, looking now at her, spoke doggedly. "Aurelie, are you going into this?" "Into this?" "This abominable contest?going to have your picture in and all the stuff printed about you!" He was mad with despair, it seemed; he almost leaped in the doorway. "You shan't!" he roared. "Yes, I shall!" She looked fixedly at him. "I Just made up my mind. I'm just going in for everything and be somebody!" The young man stared at her. Then he whirled about, looked at her from the sidewalk and went on without answer. And Aurelie turned a pale face back to Max and tried to smile. "Who," said the Sunday editor, "is that damned fool?" wney mumoiea awKwuruiy. juugco f son . . . best family. Sort of? well, gone on her." "Good dope," commented the newspaper man laconically. "Got his picture about your shop? Heart Interest, and all that sort of thing?big as a house! Get us a come-on story to follow Thursday." Aurelle stared at him. Then she jumped down and walked before the Sunday sup man and shook her fist under his nose. "His picture in the paper? If you ever do that, I'll go to Chicago and tear up -every paper in your old shop!" And turning around she walked out and up High street with the air of an empress. "Well, I'm jiggled!" murmured the Sunday editor. "Help!" (To be Continued.) How It Works.?It was a hot summer day. It was also dusty. One hundred and fifty men were riding from town to town in central Kansas, In au? tos, on a trade extension tour. They were Kansas men?merchants, lawyers doctors, editors, clerks, mechanics, bankers, farmers. From time to time they stopped at thirteen towns during the day's run. No one in the crowd spoke of beer. No one had any beer. No one at the thirteen towns offered anyone any beer. At most of the towns there were great, deep, stone Jars of Iced lemonade on the sidewalks with bright tincups hanging from the jars, and a sign up. "Welcome, Emporlans." There was no whisky, beer or wine in the crowd. No one missed it. No one spoke of it. For these men, ranging from 30 to 60, had lived in Kansas thirty years under absolute prohibition. Most of them had never been in a saloon in their home town in their lives. Booze was as remote from their consciousness as carbolic acid. Booze is not in the Kansas scheme of things. No one tUlml.r. <-vf I Ifa nrnaonro nr flhaonPP iq IIIIIIIY0 UL It. tin p?tMV..vw v. M?uv..wv - ? not considered by the Kansas mind.? Emporior Gazette. ? Spartanburg. July 12: On complaint of C. D. Fortner, a member of the general assembly, Magistrate Porter J. Gantt today issued a warrant for the arrest of D. L. Poole, a merchant of Enoree. charging him with uttering and circulating false statements concerning Mr. Fortner, with malicious intent to Injure has character and reputation. This constitutes a misdemeanor punishable by a fine not exceeding $5,000, or by Imprisonment not exceeding one year. In his affidavit, Mr. Fortner alleges that on July 6, near Antloch church, Mr. Poole, in the hearing of several people, declared that Fortner had been convicted of an offense In Woodruff and sentenced to pay a fine of $100 or serve thirty days, and that he was serving the time by working in favor of the new county proposed to be formed of the southern part of Spartanburg and northern part of Laurens counties, with Woodruff as the county seat. Mr. Fortner declares In his affidavit that Mr. Poole's alleged statement Is untrue. It<r The doctor may use hieroglyphics in writing his prescription," but he takes care to write his bill so we can understand it. ftisttltanwus j$eadinfl. CIVIL SERVICE REGULATIONS The Only Way to Get Certain Poeitiona. Hundreds of South Carolinians have written their senators and congressmen begging for positions. Practically everything worth having Is under the civil service and an examination Is necessary before one can get an ap A _ A.% X puimmeni. in inese uayo puimuii pull" la worth very Httle, In fact nothing. In filling the various positions In the government departments. The people from the northern states have known this for some time and consequently have been taking the examinations regularly, while our people have been depending on "pull." The result is the south has a very small representation In the government service In Washington and elsewhere. In talking with Senator Tillman recently he called attention to the fact that just at this time there are a great many fine positions to be filled. Look aver this list which he has given your correspondent and take his advice and stand the examination. It will cost irou nothing but a little time and may <jei you ine position. Here they are: Stenographic clerk, departmental lervlce. Examination to be held at sight points in South Carolina on July 22, 1913. Entrance salary $840? 1900 per annum. Fireman. Bureau of standards. Examination to be held at Charleston, Columbia and Qreenville on July 16, 1913. Entrance salary $720 per anlum. Architectural designer (male). Exuninatlon to be held on July 21, 1913. Salary $1800 per annum. This exam In ition is for service in the Philippines. Examiner of accounts (male). This sxamlnation will be held on July 28, 1913, and Is to secure bookkeepers ind accountants for the interstate commerce commission. This ought to >e of special Interest to young men in :he service of the railroads. There ire two grades and the salaries are 11860 to $2100 and $2220 to $3000. per innum. If you are thoroughly familiar vith railroad accounts, It would KIif na? waii ?a inuooH tra to fhlfl ji uuauij paj /vu wv? KiTvvb>DM?w > ?* ixamin&tlon. Nautical expert, (male). This examnation will be held on July 16, 1913, at Columbia, Charleston and Greenville. Entrance salary S1000 per annum. Seed warehouseman (male). On July 16 an examination will be held in Coumbia, Charleston and Greenville to 111 a vacancy In the bureau of plant ndustry, agricultural department. Saltry from $900 to $1200 per annum. Aid (male). The lighthouse service las a vacancy to be filled by exam Inttlon on August 6 and 7 th, 1913, at a alary of $1380 per annum. The elimination will be held in Charleston, Columbia and Greenville. Tinner's helper (male). In the of Ice of the secretary of agriculture here is a vacancy in the above posiion to be Ailed by an examination on Fuly 21, 1913. The salary Is $720 per tnnum. Shop apprentice (male). The bureau >f standards wants a young man beween 16 and 20 to At himself for advanced work as a mechanician. Elimination will be held at Columbia, Jreenville and Charleston on August I, 1913. Salary is $480 to $540 per antum. Assistant in cotton seed marketing ind utilization (male). The new ofIce of markets, department of agriculure, announces an examination for he above place on August 4, 1913. The mlary is from $1800 to $2000 per an* ? nnHnn Mod nil I lllll. nil CA^CI iCtlVVU VVk?Vlt -vv%. w? nan Is wanted and he must have had it least three years' experience In an >11 mill. Assistant in co-operative organizaion accounting (male). On August I, 1913, an examination will be held 'or the above position. Salary is from 11800 to 82400 per annum. The duties >f this position will be to devise suitible forms and system of accounting 'or the use of co-operative producers' ind consumers' organizations, and the ippolntee must be able to adapt such lystems to the needs of individual organizations or communities as particllar conditions may require. Specialist In transportation of farm >roduct8 (male). The new office of narkets, department of agriculture, vants a transportation expert and is o pay $3000 a year. Practical expert >nce In the service of a common carrier, nvolvlng responsibility not less exenslve than that of division freight igent, Is a prerequisite for consideralon for this position. The examinaion will be held on August 4. Civil engineer student (male). The tfflce of public roads, department of Lgriculture, announces an examination o fill above place on August 6, 1913. Salary $720. Age 20 years or over. The interstate commerce commlsilon calls the attention of railroad engineers to the following: Senior structural engineer (male). Salary from $3000 to $4800 per annum. Examination on July 21. Men are vanted with thorough training, and jeveral years' practical experience in jonnectlon with designing and supervising the construction of railway jridges, buildings and other struc:ures. Structural engineer (male). Salary (1080 to $1500. Examination on July 53. Applicants must have had not less :han four years' experience In engineering of which not less than two shall have been spent In structural work. Senior civil engineer (male). Salary (3000 to $4800 and $1800 to $2700. Examination on July 21st. It Is desired to secure ellglbles having a thorough technical training and several years' practical experience in railway location. design, construction br maintenance work, and having a thorough acquaintance with the methods of appraisal and cost-estimating of railways. Must be graduate of a reputable' technical school. Civil engineer (male). Examination on July 23. The questions will cover the course of Instruction In technical schools in civil engineering, and covsr fundamental principles and practice only. Senior inspector of car equipment (male). Salary $1800 to $3600 per annum. Examination on July 21st. Apllcants must show that they have had at leaat Ave years' experience In car construction as master mechanic, master car builder, general car fore-, man or In similar service. Age 23 to 64. Inspector of car equipment (male). Salary $1200 to $1600 per annum. Examination on July 23d. Three years' experience in the employ of a railway in the department of equipment or with a company manufacturing car equipment is required for admission to this examination. Graduation in mchanlcal engineering from a technical school of recognized standing will be accepted in lieu of two years of these three. Senior inspector of motive power (male). Salary $1900 to $3600 per annum. Examination on July 21. Applicants must show that they have had at least Ave years' experience as master mechanic, road foreman of engines, roundhouse foreman, locomotive shop foreman or engineman. Senior railway signal engineer (male). Salary $3000 to $4800. Examination on July 21st. It is desired to secure ellgibles having a thorough technical training and several years' practical experience in connection with the design, construction, operation and maintenance of railway signals and Interlockers, and having a thorough acquaintance with the methods of appraisal and cost estimating of railway signals and interlockers. Railway signal engineer (male.) Salary $1080 to $1600 per annum. Examination on July 23. Three years' experience in the employ of a railway in the block signaling or interlockingsystem department or with a company engaged in the manufacture of this special feature of railway equipment is required for admission to this examination. Senior electrical engineer (male). Salary $1800 to $2700 and $3000 to $4800 per annum. Examination on July 21. It is desired to secure ellglbles having a thorough technical training and several years' practical experience in connection with the design, construction, maintenance and operation of electric railways, power plants and equipments. Electrical engineer, (male). Salary $1080 to $1500 per annum. Examination on July 23. Three years'experience In electrical engineering work will be required for admission to this examination. Graduation in electrical engineering from a reputable technical school will be accepted as equivalent to two years of this experience. Senior mechanical engineer (male). Salary $1800 to $2700 and $3000 to $4800. Examination on July 21st. It is desired to secure ellglbles having a thorough technical training and several years' practical experience in ; connection with the design, construction, operation and maintenance of railway machinery, motive power and equipment. Mechanical engineer (male). Salary |1080l to $1500 per annum. Examination on July 23. Three years' practical experience in mechanical engineering will be required for admission to this examination. Senior architect (male). Salary $1800 to $2700 and $3000 to $4800. Examination on July 21st. It is desired to secure ellgibles having a thorough technical training and several years' practical experience in connection with the design of architectural structures. especially of railway structures, me supervision oi uie wum utuuu and maintenance of buildings. Architect (male). Salary $1080 to $1500. Examination on July 23. Applicants must have had not less than four years' experience in architecture. COTTON The Money in the Crop and a Boston Paper's Idea of It. In 1911 the United States raised a cotton crop of over 16,000.000 bales as against 11,500,000 bales in 1910 and 10,000,000 bales In 1909. This crop broke all records and although it seemingly oversupplled the market, the prices obtained were in the main good. In 1912 the production was over 14.000.000 bales, but the smaller crop brought a cash return of something like $100,000,000 in excess of that received for the larger. This indicated, among other things, that the market was not actually overstocked by the record crop, but that it lacked facilities for absorbing it. At all events the planters were not deterred from increasing the acreage this year and government statistics show that the 1913 yield will in all probability exceed 15,000,000 bales. Should July and August prove favorable to the staple, the crop of this year will bring the cotton production of the southern states for the three years up to at least 45,000,000 bales. What does this mean in money value? It is but a reasonable expectation that an average price of 11 cents a pound for the producer will be obtained this year. This would bring the value of the growing crop to the farmer up to $825,000,000, exclusive of the seed, or about $900,000,000 in all. Taking 1913 as the average year of the period, the total value of the raw cotton crop fo rthe three years would be $2,700,000,000. The southern states are enjoying great prosperity. The south, from its enlarged income, has been able to provide for development that must Increase its productive capacity tremendously. Among its conservative people there is still a strong disposition to warn the planters against continuous cotton planting, but despite numerous predictions of failure, the land con? J r\t f?4o _ wnues iu yieiu auuuuauu) %jl mc o?*pie, and, as has been seen, its selling j value Is well maintained. More skillful farming will explain one phase of this happy result, an ever-broadening market the other. The south, in view of Its experience In recent years. Is, and has a right to be, optimistic with regard to the future. It has learned severe lessons; Its confldnce is due in very large part to its belief that it has learned them well.?Christian Science Monitor. ? Miss Gertrude Mordecal, daughter of T. M. Mordecal, Esq., of Charleston, was killed in an automobile accident near Lake George, N. Y., Saturday afternoon. The car was running at a speed of fifty miles an hour at the time of the accident. >t?"True greatness Is possessed only by the man who deserves the good opinion he has of himself. THE L08T SLAYER OF BOOTH Case of Boston Corbett, Who Wont to Kansas, Than Vanished. Tears ago before Gomer Davis or even the central branch had come to town, Concordia, Kan., vaunted Itself upon the possession of a wild man. The wild man's name was Boston Corbett, though he wasn't a prize tighter at all, and he had the further distinction of having killed John Wilkes Booth, the assassin of Abraham Lincoln. Also he was a dead shot with an army revolver, wore his hair long and suffered un der the delusion that he was a muchwronged man. To begin at the beginning, however, , which was a good many hundred miles from Concordia. When the Civil War broke out Corbett, who was 33 years old and a hatter, joined the Sixteenth New York cavalry regiment. Corbett , was converted by a street preacher in Boston before he joined the army; all during the war he spent much of his leisure time attempting to evangelize his fellow troopers. Then, before the war was over, came the assassination of Lincoln, and Booth's flight on horseback south through Maryland. Corbett, who had been promoted to the rank of sergeant for bravery during the war, was one of the twenty-five troopers who went south on Booth's trail under command of Lieutenant Edward P. Doherty. There are a good many different versions of what really happened after Booth was surrounded in a barn near Bowling Green, but none of these versions has ever disputed the fact that it was Corbett who shot Booth. The actor, supporting himself upon a rough crutch, was standing In the middle of the barn floor, refusing to surrender, and he held a carbine, with which, In the growing light of the barn which two civilian detectives had set on Are, he took aim at Doherty. Boston Corbett, who had been standing guard at a small opening In the side of the barn, saw the move, thrust the muzzle of his revolver through the aperture and fired, wounding Booth at the base of the skull. Booth was carried outside and died two hours later. Now, it had been no part of the army officers who had set out after Lincoln's slayer to have him shot down there in Maryland. They wanted to bring him back to Washington and have him nanged in due state, and many people who knew Corbett afterward, say he was practically drummed out of the army because he killed Booth. At any rate, Corbett always felt afterward he was a much wronged man. He had slain Booth; therefore. It was ( only right that he should have a large ( part of the $75,000 reward that had been offered by congress for the cap- j ture of Booth, alive or dead. Instead, j he got only $2,546 of the money, and , before he had a chance to spend any , of that, he was held up by footpads and , robbed of the whole roll. Congress granted him a trifling pen- ( sion, and he went to Camden, N. J., , and applied for the job of assistant postmaster there, was refused, and j made up his mind to come west. He j come to Concordia and applied at the j land office there for a claim. Rierhteen miles from Concordia there was a little hillside "eighty" of no especial value to any one, and there Corbett built a cabin. He trenched his cabin, and there were loopholes in the walls out of which he might shoot Some one had told him that Booth had belonged to a secret order, and that the members of the order had taken a vow to avenge his death. Mounted on a pony and riding his old army saddle, he spent his time wandering about aimlessly enough, now and again coming to town, but generally suspicious and keeping to himself. Judge Sturgls, one of Concordia's pioneers, Is one of the men now living In the town who knew the stranee little soldier. "Often enough, as I was driving along," he says, "I have seen this Boston Corbett slip quickly off his horse as he caught sight of me and He motionless In the grass, his long revolver In one hand, waiting to see what was coming. He never made any attempt to hurt me, or, Indeed, to hurt any one, but he was always wary. "He was a strange, solitary fellow, and he had not been on his claim long before he succeeded In quarreling with a number of chaps who were In the habit of riding across his place. They meant no harm, but Boston had the curious, precise English notion of property rights, and he warned them not to set foot on his claim. One thing led to another, and finally they had him arrested, charged with threatening to kill them. That court room scene was the sort a man remembers. "There was Boston Corbett, a little, slender, dark-eyed chap, his hair hanging down long behind, sitting there quietly, while those fellows told how he had threatened to shoot them. Sud- ] denly he Jumped up, whipped out his ] army revolver and began pointing It | at one man after another. " 'That's a lie, a He, a He,' he shrill- | ed. 'I'll shoot any man who says such j things about me.' i "I can tell you there was scattering. Most of the town had come In to listen to the hearing, for Boston Crobett was a notorious chap. They trampled each other getting to the doors and windows. One old attorney, who was crippled up with rheumatism and knew he couldn't make much showing In a run, crawled under a small table, and It was with difficulty that we got him out. "But Boston didn't shoot, and nothing was done to him either. They quieted him down and talked to him, and he went back to his hillside eighty, the cabin and the pony. "Of course we realized before long the chap was crazy. He would go along quietly enough and then break out in j some new and unexpected way. I re- < member, for Instance, the time Judge ' Dan Brown, of the probate court, got j up a scheme to have Boston give a lec- t ture on his life and his killing of J. 1 Wilkes Booth. Here was Boston, a ' celebrity, who had been living right in j our own county and nobody had ? thought to capitalize him. ' "The first lecture, they agreed was | to be in Concordia, and I think every t one in town must have bought a tick- a et. At any rate the Presbyterian J church, the biggest building In town, ^ was crowded full when the night of s the lecture came, and people were ' standing in the doors and windows. ? Judge Brown got up and introduced t his protege?the famous Boston Corbett, the man who had killed Lincoln's slayer, and who would now give his own story of Just how it happened. "And then Boston stood up, his long hair brushed and oiled and pulled back from his forehead, and launched into his speech?or sermon, rather. For he told them r.ever a word about himself, never a word about Wilkes Booth or the war, or anything else he was advertised to speak upon. He talked religion to 'cm, shouting, ranting, street preacher religion, 'Repent and ye shall be saved!" "Dan Brown was so mad he could nave wept or beaten corbett, but ne did neither. He talked to him quietly and gently, and Anally they agreed to wait awhile and then he would lecture again?this time out of town. "So Judge Brown took hie notable down to Junction City, advertised, sold tickets?and Boston did the same thing over again. That was the last time he ever appeared on the lecture platform. "He kept on living here for a number of years; the same sort of a record of wild eccentricity. He rode and shot, and he was a wonderful shot. I have seen him bring down a barn swallow with his revolver, or one of these circling prairie birds that we call 'bullbats,' and people around Concordia had a wholesome respect for his shooting talents. Every now and then he would make one of his wild, foolish gun plays here In town, but he never shot any one and everybody understood he was pot just accountable, so nobody tried to shoot him. "A good many folks were friendly with him. and Anally one of our local Republican politicians sot him a job as door-keeper at the legislature in Topeka." That appointment took Boston Corbett away from Concordia permanently. For one day in February, 1887, he appeared at the capltol with a drawn revolver, shouting that he meant to kill the speaker of the house. Doorkeepers and sergeants-at-anns fled; legislators sburried down the corridors like frightened jackrabbits. Corbett caught jp with one man who resembled the ipeaker and shouted to bim: "You can discharge me, Mr. Speaker, but you can't scare me." The legislator assured him that he wasn't the speaker and Corbett let him fo. Finally the craay doorkeeper was :aptured by Topeka policemen and was lent to an asylum in Topeka. He stay>d there a little more than a year and teemed to be Improving distinctly; his nrhole bearing was so gentle that he nras allowed the freedom of tho pounds, along with the harmless patients. One morning, while the guard was [laying no special attention, he dropped out of line to pick a flower. A visitor bad ridden out, to the asylum ind nis pjny was uea near ous or mo sates. Corbett untied' it oiambered up ind was away down the road, lost in a :loud of dust. A few attendants rode ifter him, but they were too lata A week later a letter from a man in tfeodsha, who had known Corbett darns the war and who had repeatedly protested against his imprisonment old how the prisoner had come to Urn, bad received aid and money* and lad started for Mexico after "shaking die dust of the United States from his !eet" The pony was left behind to be 'eturned to its owner. And that Is the ast news that has ever been received from Boston Corbett If he is alive to3ay he is 81 years old. Numerous impostors have turned up at one time ind another, trying to palm themselves off as Corbett and Judge Stur?ia was called on a few years ago to refute one such claim. The little hillside eighty changed hands years ago, md today Is pasture land, and the fort Booth's slayer built Is crumbling fast.?Kansas City Star. Abraham an Inventor.?The University of Pennsylvania has just discovared that it owns a picture of a plow Invented by Abraham, centuries ago. While plows undoubtedly were used before the time of this Invention, the Abraham plow is a combination plow, seeder and harrow, and, according to the Inscription on the picture, three men wero necessary to operate It The picture was made upon a Babylonian brlclc, which was the custom In those days. The apparatus had a tubeIke attachment into which the seeds ivere poured. A vessel above the ground facing the frame of the plow ivas used as a receptacle for the seed ind then the barrow was attached to the back of the plow. The Babylonians sowed and tilled iccording to Abraham's commands, md with his invention they feared neither the ravens nor any other birds that devoured their grain.?Exchange. "Men of 8traw."?Mr. Engelbach, an English author, in a new volume on lumors of the law, relates the followng queer bit of history: "Some years ago men used to walk ibout openly in Westminster Hall with i piece of straw in their boot By this sign attorneys knew that such persons vere in want of employment as false witness, and wcuii! give any evidence required for money. For instance, if in advocate wanted an obliging witness he would go to one of these men ind show him a fee, which, if not suftlcient, the witness would not take any notice of. The fee was then increased until its weight recalled the power of memory to a sufficient extent By this they derived their name, 'Men of Straw.' "?Harper's Weekly. Pellagra In Spartanburg.?A statement in the local columns of the Spartanburg Herald that "there are >ver 400 pellagra sufferers in this rounty and others are being added to :he number with alarming rapidity," jonveys some iucu ui w?? v. em which pellagra haa become. It ilso indicates the tendency of the disease to develop special prevalence in tome localities. At Spartanburg the Thomson-McFadden commission will toon have a temporary hospital in :onsequence of subscriptions now beng made. It is pursuing with energy its efforts to obtain some real mowledge of the origin of the disease. How much It is doing for Individual sufferers and how much can >e done elsewhere we gather from the Luthorlzed statement that the maortty of patients are either greatly telped or completely cured by a few veeks of careful nursing. Pellagra teems to have become noticeably nllder, on the average, since it first ittracted general attention a few rears ago. Otherwise there is little to >e said.?Charlotte Observer.