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J NO y i ?VVVVA\\%NVVV.V^V.\S\V.^\S;.\V.V.;.;.\SV..V.X^JO.V.X y*V?VV?V?V?V#".V?VtV?V*V?V?V?vr? o ?T?^T? THE MURDER. Synopsis. ? Returning home after a day's shooting, Dyck Calhoun, gifted young Irish gentleman'of the time of the French and American revolutions, meets Sheila Llyn, seventeen-year-old girl visiting in the neighborhood. They are mutually attracted. Sheila never knew her dissipated father, Errls Boyne, her mother having divorced him and resumed her maiden name. Reaching home, Dyck finds Leonard Mallow, son of Lord Mallow, with a message from the attorney general summoning Miles Calhoun, Dyck's father, to Dublin. They go to Dublin and there Mallow quarrels with Dyck and a duel Is arranged. They fight with swords find Dyck Is victor. Errls Boyne, secretly in French employ, gets Dyck drunk and tries to persuade him to Join in revolt against England. k 1- 0 (CHAPTER IV?Continued.) "What's that you say about French ships in the harbors of Ireland?" he said in a tone that showed interest. "Of course, I know there's been a lot of talk of a French raid on Ireland, j but I didn't know it was to be so soon." "Oh, it's near enough! It's all been arranged," replied Boyne. "There'll be ships?warships, commanded by Hoche. They'll have orders to land on the coast, to Join the Irish patriots, td take control of the operations, and then to inarch on?" He was going to say "march on Dublin," but he stopped. He was playing a daring game. If h? had not been sure of his man, he would not have been so frank and fenrless. He did not, however, mislead D.vck greatly. D.vck had been drinking a good deal, bn'. this knowledge of a French Invasion, and a sense of what Boyne was trying to do, steadied his shaken emotions; held him firmly in the grip of practical common sense. He laughed, hiccoughed a little, as though he was very drunk, and said: "Of course the French would like to come to Ireland; they'd like to seize it and hold It. Why, of course i they would! Of course; but what astounds me Is that a man of your standing should believe the French are coming here now to Ireland. No, no, Boyne; I'm not taking your word for any of these things. You're a gossip; you're a d?d, pertinacious, preposterous gossip, and I'll say It as often as you like." "So it's proof you want, is It? weu, i then, here It is." Boyne drew from ids pocket a small leather-bound case and took from it a letter, which he laid on the table front of Dyck. Dyck looked at the document, then said: ".Ah, that's what you are. eh??a Dyck Looked at the Document. captain In the French artillery! Well, that'd he a surprise In Ireland If it were told." "It isn't jroins to l>e told unless you tell it. Calhoun, and you're too much of a sportsman for that, resides, why shouldn't you have one of these if you ""? want it?If you want it? Listen to me, Calhoun," reaching out ? hand to lay It on Dyck's arm. Dyck saw the motion, however, nnd carefully drew hack in his cliuir. "I'm not an adventurer," he said; "but if I were, what would there be in it for me?" Boyne misunderstood the look on Dyck's face. He did not grasp the meaning behind the words, and he said to him: "Oh, a good salary?as good as that of a general, with a commission and the spoils of war! That's the thing in the French army that counts for so much?spoils of war. When they're out on u country like this, they let their officers loose?their officers and men. Did you ever hear tell of a French army being pinched for fodder, or going thirsty for drink, or ?.... i?i .... i,,,ii n ?!M n> ut-uu v/i genre?" "No, I never did." "Well. then, take the advice of an officer of the French army resident In Dublin," continued lioyne, laughing, "who has the honor of being received ^ as the friend of Mr. I?yck Calhoun of I'laymorel Take your hand In the game that's going on! For a mun as young ns you, with brains and ambition, there's no height he mightn't i each in this country. Think of It? Ireland free from KngJlsh control; Ireland, with all her dreams, living titer o\ru life, fearless, independent, as it was in days of yore. Why, 1 DE By GILBER Author of "The Seats of the IV what's to prevent you, Dyck Calhoun, from being president of the Irish republic? You have brains, looks, skill and a wonderful tongue. None bnt a young man could take on the Job, for it will require boldness, skill and the recklessness of perfect courage. Isn't It good enough for you?" "What's the way to do It?" asked Dyck. stLll holding on to his old self grimly. "How is it to De done r" tie spoke u little thickly, for, in spite of himself, the wine was clogging his senses. It had been artistically drugged by Boyne. "Listen to me, Calhoun," continued Boyne. "I've known you now some time. We've come in and gone out together. This duy was inevitable. You were bound to come to it one 1 way or another. Mun, you have a heart of iron; you have the courage of Caesar or Alexander; you have the chance of doing what no Englishman could ever do?Cromwell, or any other. Well, then, don't you see the fateful moment has come fn Irish life and history? Strife everywhere! Alone, what can we do? Alone, if we try to shake off the yoke thut binds us we shall be shattered, and our last end he worse thun our first. But with Frenclj ships, French officers and soldiers, French guns and ammunition, with the trainejl men of the French army to take control here, what amelioration of our weakness, what confidence and ' skill on our side ! Can you doubt what the end will be? An[ swer me, man; don't you see It all? Isn't it clear to you? Doesn't such a cause enlist you?" With a sudden burst of primitive anger, Dyek got to his feet, staggering a little, but grusping the fatal meaning of the whole thing. He looked Krris Boyne in the eyes. His own were bloodshot and dissipated, but there was a look in them of which Boyne might well take heed. "I tell you this, Erris Boyne; there's none hus ever tried me us you have done! What do you think I am?a thing of the dirty street comer, something to be swept up and cast Into the furnace of treason? Look, you! After today you and I wili n^ver break bread or drink wine together. No? by Heaven, no! I don't know whether you've told me the truth or not, -but T think vnn have. There's this to say ?I shull go from tills place to Dublin castle, and shall teU them there? j without mentioning your name?<what you've told about the French raid. Now, look you, by Clod, you're a traitor. You oughtn't to lire, nnd If you'll send your seconds to me I'll try nnd do with you as I did with Leonard Mallow. Only mark me, Erris Boyne. I'll put my sword Into your heart. You understand?into your filthy heart!" At that moment the door of the room opened, and a fuce looked in /or an instant?the face of old Swlnton, the landlord of the Harp and Crown. Suddenly Boyne's look changed. He hurst into a laugh, and brought his fists down on the table between them with a bang. "By Joseph nnd by Mary, but you're a patriot, Calhoun! I was trying to test you. I was searching to find the innermost soul of you. The French fleet, my commission In the French army, and my story ahout tne lanuiora are ull bosh. If I meant what 1 t<dd you. do you think I'd have heen so mad as to tell you so much, d?n It? Have you no sense, man? I wanted to find out exactly how you stood? faithful or unfaithful to the crown? and I've found out. Sit down, sit down, Calhoun, dear lad. Take your hand off your sword. Remember, these are terrible days. Everything I said ahout Ireland Is true. What I said about France is false. Sit down, man, and if you're going to Join the king's army?as I hope and trust you will?then here's something to help you face the time between." He threw ?>n the table a packet of notes. "They're good and healthy, and will buy you what you need. There's not much. There's only a hundred pounds, hut I give It to you with ail my heart, and you can pay it hack when the king's money Cannes to you, or when you marry a rich woman." He said it all with a smile on Ids face. It was done so cleverly, with so much simulated sincerity, that Dyck, in his state of semi-drunkenness, could not, at the instant, place him in his true light. Never in his life had Boyne performed such prodigies of dissimulation. He realized to the full the dan, gers he had run in disclosing the [truth; for it was the truth that he j had told. So serious was the situation, to his mind, that one thing seemed inevitable. Dyck must be kidnaped at once and carried out of Ireland. It would be simple. A Jlttle more drugged wine, and he would he asleep and powerless?it had already tugged at him. With the help of his confreres in the tavern. Dyck could he carried out. put on a lugger and sent away to France. There was nothing else to do. ttoyne had said truly that the French fleet meant to come soon. I>yck must not be able to give the thing away before it happened. Already the wine had played havoc with him; already stupefaction was coming over his senses. With a good-natured, ribald laugh, Boyne poured out another glass of marsala and pushed it gently over to Dyck's fingers. "My gin to your marsala," he said, and he raised his own glass of gin. looking playfully over the top to I)yck. With a sudden loosening of all the fibres of his nature, Dyck raised the glass of marsala to his lips and drained it off almost at a gulp. "You're a prodigious liar, Boyue," ,FEP* T PARKER lighty," "The Right of Way" he said. "I didn't think any one could lie so completely." "I'll teach you how, Calhoun. It's not hard. I'll teach you how." He passed a long cigar over the table to Dyck, who, however, did not light It, but held It In his fingers. Boyne struck a light and held it out across the small table. Dyck leaned forward, but, as he did so, the wine took possession of his senses. His head fell forward in sleep, and the cigar dropped from his fingers. "Ah, well?ah, well, we must do some business now!" remarked Boyne. He leaned over Dyek for a moment. "Yes, sound asleep," he said, and laughed scornfully to himself. "Well, when it's dark we must get him away. He'll sleep for four or five hours and by that time he'll be out on the way to France, and the rest is easy." He was about to go out to the door that led into the business part of the house, when the door leading into the street opened softly, and a woman stepped inside. She had used the key which Boyne had forgotten at his house. At first he did not hear her. Then, when he did turn round, It was too late. The knife she carried under her skirt flashed out and Into Boyne's heart. He collapsed on the floor without a sound, save only a deep sigh. Stooping over, Noreen drew the knife out with a little gurgling cry? Noreen Drew the Knife Out With a Little'Gurgling Cry. a smothered exclamation. Then she opened the door again?the side-door leading Into the streetj?closed It softly, and was gone. Three hours afterward the landlord opened the door. F'rrls Boyne lay In his silence, stark and still. At the table, with his head sunk In his arms, sat Dyck Calhoun, snoring stentoriously, his drawn sword by his side. With a cry the old man knelt on the tioor beside the body of Errls Boyne. CHAPTER V. Dyck in Prison. When Dyck Calhoun waked, he was in the hands of the kind's constables, arrested for the murder of Errls Boyne. Also, the landlord was ready to swear concerning a quarrel he had seen when he opened the door for a moment. Dyck, with sudden caution, only said thut he would make all clear at the trial. Driven through the streets of Dublin In a jaunting car between two of the king's police, he was a mark for abuse by tongue, hut was here and there cheered by partisans of the ultra-loyal group to which his father adhered. The effect of the drug was still upon him und his mind was confused. He remembered the quarrel, 3oyne's explanation and the* subsequent drinking. hut he could recall nothing further. He could not believe lie had killed Boyne; yet Boyne had been lounu wiin u woiiiiu in ni> iii-nri, iiiiu Ills own naked sword lying beside blm on the table. The trouble was that be eould not absolutely swear be had not committed the crime. The situation was not eased by his stay in jail. On the contrary, It began with a revelation terribly repugnant to him. He had not long been iodged In the cell when lie received a visit from Mh'hael Clones, who stretched out his hand in an agony of humiliation. "Ah. you didn't do it?you didn't do it. sir!" he cried. "I'm sure you never killed him. It wasn't your way. He was for doing you harm If he could. An evil man lie was, as all the world knows. But there's one thing that'll lie worse than anything else to you. You never knew it, and I never knew it till an hour ago. Did you know who Krrls Boyne was? Well, I'll tell you. He was the father of Sheila I.lyn. He was divorced by Mrs. Llyn many years ago, for having to do with other women. She took to her maiden name, and lie married again." "Good God! Good God!" Dyek I ill noun inline 11 fce:Miiie I>| iiviioi, "lie's Sheila Idyll's father! Good God!" Suddenly n passion of remorse roused hiui out of his semi-stupefaction. "Michael, Michael!" he said, his voice hoarse, broken. "Don't say such a thine! Are you sure?" Michael nodded. "I'm sure. I cot it from one that's known Krrls Boyne nnd Ills' first wife and pirl?one that was .a servant to them both in past days. He's been r JSEJ I V 1 Copyright by Sir Gilbert Parker down to Limerick to see Mrs. Llyn and the beautiful daughter. I met him ?'"V n?/l Krt nin Mo tol/} <111 1IUIU U??s UIIU lit: IUIU Uib. ?ir.u me more. He told me Mrs. Llyn spoke to hlra of your friendship with Errls Boyne, and how she meant to leJl you who and what he was. She said her daughter didn't even know her father's name. She had been kept in Ignorance." , Dyck seated himself on the rough bed of the cell and stared at Mlchhel, his hands between his knees, his eyes perturbed. "Michael," he said at last, "if it's true?what you've told me?I don't see my way. Every step In front of me Is black wINi vlleness. To tell the whole truth Is to bring fresh shame upon Mrs. Llyn and her daughter, and not to tell the whole truth Is to take away the only chance 1 have of getting out of thjs trouble. I see that!" "I don't know what you mean, sir, but I'll tell you this. None that knows you would believe you'd murder Errls Boyne or any other man." Dyck wiped the sweut from his forehead. "I suppose you speak the truth, Michael, but it isn't people who've known me that'll try me; and I can't tell all." , "Why not, if It'll help you?" "I can't?of course I can't. It would be disgrace eternal." "Why? Tell me why, sir!"* Dyck looked closely, firmly at the old servant and friend. Should he tell the truth?that Boyne had tried to Induce him to sell himself to the French, to Invoke his aid against the English government, to share In treason? If he could have told It to anybody, he would have done so to Michael; but if It was true that in his blindness he had killed Boyne, he would not seek to escape by proving Boyne*a traitor. Dyck had a foolish strain in hlra, after all. Romance was his deadly foe; it made him do a stupid, if chivalrous, thing. Meanwhile, he would warn the government at once about the projected French naval raid. "Michael," said Dyck, rising, "see ray father, but you're not to say I didn't kill Boyne, for, to tell the truth, I don't know. My head"?he put his hand to it wdth a gesture of despair? "my head's a mass of contradictions. Do you know it seems a thousand years since I entered that tavern? I can't pet myself level with all that's happened. That Erris Boyne should be the father of that sweet girl at Limerick and the husband of Mrs. Llyn shakes me. Don't you see what it means? If I killed him, it spoils everything?everything. If I didn't kill him, I can only help myself by blackening still more the life of one who gave being to?" "Aye, to a young queen!" interrupted Michael. "God knows, there's none like her In Ireland, or in anyother country at all I" Suddenly Dyck regained his composure; and it was the composure of one who had opened the door of hell and had realized that in time?perhaps not far off?he also would dwell in the infernal place. "Michael, I have no money, but I'm my father's heir. My fnther will not see me starve In prison, nor want for defense, tnougn my attituue snail De 'no defense.' So bring me decent food and some clothes, and send *to n:e here Will McCormlek, the lawyer. He's as able a man as there Is In Dublin. Listen, Michael, you're not to speak of Mrs. Llyn and Miss Llyn as related to Errls.Boyne. Whut will come of what you and I know and don't know, Heaven only has knowledge; but I'll see It through. I've spoiled as good chances as ever a young man had that wants to make his way; but drink and cards, Michael, and the llare of this d?d life at the center?It got hold of me. It muddled, drowned the best that was In me. It's the witch's kitchen, Duhlln Is. Ireland's the only place In the world where they make saints of criminals and pray to them; where they lose track of time and think they're In eternity; where emotion is saturnine logic and death is the touchstone of life. Michael. I don't see any way to safety. Those fellows down at the tavern were friends of Erris Royne. They're against me. They'll hang me If they can!" "I don't believe they can do It, master. Dublin and Ireland think more of you than they did of Erris Royne. There's nothing behind you except the wildness of youth?nothing at all." Dyck smiled. "You've a lot of faith In me, Michael ?but I'll tell you this: I never was so thirsty in my life. My mouth's like a red-hot Iron. Send me some water. Give the warder sixpence, If you've got it, and send me some water. Then go to Will McCormick, and after that to my father." Michael shook his head dolefully. "Mr. McCormick's alsy?oh, alsy enough," he said. "He'll lep up at the Idea of defendln' you, but I'm not takln' pleasure In going to Miles Calhoun, for he's a hard man these days. Aw, Mr. Dyck, he's had a lot of troii Hie. 'limits nas oeen gam wrong wnn Plnymore. 'Pon honor, I don't know whether nnny of It'll last as long as Miles Calhoun lasts. There'll he little left for you, Mr. Dyck. That's what troubles me. 1 tell you lt'd break ray heart If that place should be lost to your father and you. I was horn on It. I'd give the best years of the life that's left tne to make sure the old house could stay in the hands of the Cnlhouns. I say to you that while I live all I ain is yours, fair and foul, good und bad." He touched his breast with his right hand. "In here is the soul of Ireland that leps up on the heights for the things thut matter. There's a song?but never mind about] t a song; this is no place for songs. It's a prison-house, and you're a prisoner charged?" "Not charged yet, not charged." interrupted Dyck; "but suspected of and arrested for a crime. I'll fight? before Clod. I'li fight to the last I Goodby, Michael; bring me food and clothes, and send me' cold water nt once." When the door closed softly behind Michael Clones, Dyck sat down on the bed where many a criminal patriot had lain. He looked round the small room, bare, unfurnished, severe?terribly severe; he looked nt tie blank walls and the barred window, hlgk up; he looked at the floor?It was discolored and damp. He reached out and "I'll Fight?Before God, I'll Fight to the Last!" touched it with his hand. He looked at the solitary chair, the basin and pail, and he shuddered. "How awful?how awful!" he murmured. "But If It was her father, and If I killed him"?his head sank low? "If I killed her father!" "Water, sir." He looked up. It was the guard jftith a tin of water and a dipper. ? t CHAPTER VI. Mother and Daughter. "I don't believe he's guilty, mother." The girl's fine eyes shone with feeling?with protest, Indignation, anguish. Sheila Llyn was a champion who would fight to the lust fcasp for any cause she loved. "Let us go to Dublin, mother," she said with a determined air, after reading the clipping. "Why, my dear?" rne woman s eyes, wim men mug lashes, looked searchlngly Into her. daughter's face. She felt, as the years went on, that Sheila had gifts granted to few. She realized that the girl had resources which would make her n governing Influence in whatever sphere of life she should be set. Quietly, Sheila was taking control of their movements, and Indeed of her own daily life. The girl had a dominating skLll which caine In part from herself, and also to a degree from her father; but her disposition was not her father's?It was her mother's. Sheila had been told by her mother that her father had passed away abroad when she was a little child. She had never seen her father's' picture, and her mother had given her the Impression that their lust days together had not been happy. She had always felt that It was better not to Inquire too closely Into her father's life. She was as bonny a lass as ever the old world produced?lithe, with a body like that of a boy, strong and pleasant of face, with a haunting beauty In the eyes, u majesty of the neck and chin, and a carriage which had made Michael Clones call her a queen. She saw Dyck only as a happy, wild son of the hill-top. To her he was a man of mettle and worth, IrresponsI uie uei'uunt; ntr uuii utrt-ii ?i>cu iiu ic* sponslhillty. He was a country gentleman of Ireland, with all the Interest and peril of the life of a country gentleman. "Yes, we ought to go to Dublin, mother. We could help him, perhaps," Sheila Insisted. The mother shook her head mournfully. "My child, we could do him no good at all?none whatever. Besides, I can't afford to visit Dublin now. It's an expensive Journey, and the repairs we ve been doing here hnve run me close. My dear, our best place Is here. Of one thing I'm sure?it' Dyck Calhoun killed Krrls Royne, Royne deserved It. Of one thing I'm certain beyond all else?it was no murder. Mr. Calhoun wasn't a man to murder any one. I don't believe"?her voice became passionate?"lie committed the murder, and I don't believe he will lie hanged." The girl looked at her mother with unveiled surprise. "Oh, jJearest, dearest !" she said. "I believe you do care for him. Is it because he bus no mother, and you have no son?" "It may lie so, beloved." With impulse Sheila swept her arms around her mother's neck and drew the fine head to her breast. At that moment they heard the clatter of hoofs, and presently they saw a horse and rider pass the window. "It's a government messenger, mother," SheIJa said. As Sheila said, It was 11 government messenger, bearing a packet to Mrs. I.lyn?a letter from her brother in America, whom she had not seen for I many years. The brother, Iirynn Llyn, had gone out there as a young man before the Revolutionary war. He had prospered, taking sides against Kngland in the war, and became a man of importance in the schemes of the new republican government. Only occasionally had letters come from him to his sister, and for nearly eleven years site had not had a single word from him. Sheila watched iter mot iter reading, and saw that great emotion possessed Iter, though the girl could not know the cause. Presently, however, Mrs. Llyn, who hud read the letter from i her brother, made a Joyful erciamatlon. | "What Is It, mother dear?" Sheila ! asked eagerly. "Tell me!" The mother made a passionate ges- j ture of astonishment and Joy; then < she leaned back In her chair and ' closed her eyes, with the letter?which was closely written, In old-fashioned punctiliousness?In her hands. "Oh, my dear, my dear!" she said. ( "How strange It all is! Your Uncle Bryan Is Immensely rich. He has no children and no family; his health Is failing." ' She seemed able to get no further. "Well, what Is It, mother?" asked Sheila aguin. For an Instant Mrs. Llyn hesitated; | then she put the letter Into Sheila's hands. t , "Bead It, my child," she said. "It's for you as much as for me?Indeed, ( more for you than for me." I Dyck ii released from priaoa after four years. J=========J I (TO BE CONTINUED.) I EGEDE HONORED BY DANES ( Deeds of Grest Missionary and Pat. 1 riot Have Not Been forgotten by Those He Benefited. ' Two hundred years ugo Hnns Egode set sail from Bergen, Norway, for Greenland with the Idea of acting as a missionary to the descendants of Norwegians who had preceded him by eight centuries. With him on the "Ilnnbet," or "Hope," were his wife, his four small children and 34 others. Tltey arrived In Ball's river July 3. Though he found no colonists he did find what he felt was a rare opportunity. Hnns Egede was n hundred per cent Norwegian. But In his day Norway was under Danish sovereignty and It was, after all, Frederick IV who did what he could to finance his undertaking. Although Eged'\ when he arrived In Greenland, was disappointed, he was not discouraged. He at once began his work among the Eskimos, translated the Bible?with the Invaluable assistance of hra young children?Into their language, and what Is probably of greater slgnl- ? ficance for civilization, re-established trade relations with Denmark that have continued to this day. His book entitled "A Description of Greenland," has not been entirely superseded even now. When he returned to Denmark In 1736. his son Paul continued the work he had begun. He died at Copenhagen In ( 1758, Justly regarded by the Danes , as one of the most courageous and astute missionaries the world has ? known. It Is to him that thfe Danes are Indebted for their one and truly greut overseas possession. I FRENCH USE ENGLISH WORD ' Academy Which Keeps Language Cor. rect Decides to Admit "Gentleman" to the Dictionary. The French academy, which devotes long sittings to the task of keeping the French language absolutely correct, and which regards all forelgD words Introduced Into the language with horror, has Just made an excep tlon In favor of an English word, which Is henceforward to have a place In the official dictionary of France, says the London Telegraph. This le the word "gentleman," whlbh Is very frequently used In modern writing and conversation rather than the time* honored gentllhoinme, which ordinarily means nobleman, but which, In the new edition of the dictionary. Is to he described as meaning "a man who without being nohle by race, has lofty sentiments, elegant manners, and does noble acts." With regard to the word "gentleman," It Is to be described In the dictionary as "an English word sometimes employed In French In the metaphorical and moral sense of the word gentllhoinme." This is undoubtedly not , the last time the French academy will he called upon to give an official welcome to an English word which has become current In the French language; for example, the word "home" fs becoming a great favorite, and the misuse of the words "smoking" and "dnncing" for "smoking Jacket" and "dance hall" has become so usual that the English origin of the words Is quite forgotten. , I Hatbands Have Meaning. There's a reason for placing the bow of the hatband at the left side, which dates back to the days when men used to settle their troubles with a sword. It wus very necessary then to be able | to draw one's weapon at u mmnent's , notice?quarrels broke * out almost j ...I ?L -x..* rv*??.rtnn?lAn TToO thflTC HP WILII' Mil [iiu* w?.?nuu. i vukiivtw , hanging plumes were always worn on the left side, so that there was no chance of their Interfering with the freedom of the sword arm. As time went on, feathers gave place to ribbons, sometimes used to secure the lint to the head; the ends of these | were brought to the left side to be out of the way of the right arm. When men ceased to settle their quarrels summarily with weapons, the left side of the hat continued to carry any lit- , tie extra decoration allowed on It; and there It has remained to this day. Brazil's Big Snake Nursery. There nrex said to he more snakes - .. .. _ , _.K . ) In Brazil man in Iinj uuii-i wumrj m the western hemisphere, un exchange remarks. At Batuntan, near Sao 1 Paulo, there Is a great snake garden ' where scientists are studying the m.vs- 1 teries of snake biology. The original season for the establishment of the garden, which is a huge nursery for snakes, was to ohtnin serum enough for those bitten by snakes throughout Brazil. The garden Is GOO acres In ex- ' tent and divided Into three depart- 1 merits, two of which are devoted to "I cobras, crotalids and bothrops, the most poisonous snakes known; while the third department is given to the nonpoisonous snakes. i No Cure for Him. The conceited man makes other penpie tired, but it doesn't do him any good. Ue never knows it. r i - I IMPROVED i ROADS % > ???**???????????*???*#??????????^i ROAD CONSTRUCTION IN 1020 Coat Was About Twieo as Much aa In 1917 on Aocount of Distinct 8hortago of Labor. [Prepared by the U. 8. Department of Agriculture.) Every kind of road coat about mice aa much to build In 1020 aa It did In 1917, according to the chief of the bureau of public roada, United States Department of Agriculture, and highway construction suffered more than any other class of work tlirough railroad congestion, strikes, labor troubles and material shortages. After the war these was a great public demand for Improved roads. Uany roada had been seriously damaged by war trafllc, and lit appeared that the return of men from military service would provide an abundance of labor. The army of laborers which / was expected to apply for the work did not, however, materialize. On the contrary^ there was a distinct shortage Well Kept Roadside Where Weede Are Controlled by Frequent ' Mowing / of labor, and wages reached the high* est levels attained in the history of the country. In 1917, competent labor could be secured for from $1.50 to $3 per day, but the corresponding wages In 1920 were from $3 to $5 for a shorter day's work. In proportion to this demand there was also a pronounced scarcity of construction materials. Sand, gravel, Btone, and cement, and materials com- , ' monly used In road work Increased In price between 1917 and 1920 from 50 to 100 per cent Naturally, these Increases ln| cost were reflected In the prices paid to contractors for road work. Gravel roads Increased from $4,535 to $7,250 per mile; concrete from $21,105 to upward of $40,000 per mile, and brick roads from $33,000 to $55,000 per mile. ' As funds available for road construction are largely limited by statute, or by the returns from taxation, a majority of the states this year have deliberately withheld work, the plans for which had been completed, until they could obtain a greater return for v their expenditure. SCOTS USED FIRST MACADAM' Resident of Ayrshire Made His First Experiments About 1814? Roads Now Common. ' Macadam roads are so common In America that national pride may well lead us to look upon them as a do- , mestlc product. But John MacAdam was a Scot, resident In Ayrshire, where he made his " * ? ? ? 1 Q1 A A nrst experiments uuuui ion, auv>uIng to the New York Sun. Five years later the first public roads were laid with the pavement and a grateful parliament awarded the Inventor a grant of $f?o.ooa In 1827, after the new pavement had been thoroughly tested. MacAdam was made surveyor general of all metropolitan roads In and about London and the use of his method became general throughout the United King dora. HARDING LAUDS GOOD ROADS President in First Message to Cpn. gress Deplores Money Wasted in Improved Highways. In no uncertain terms, President! Harding expressed his opinion of the automobile, motor transport and good roads lu his tirst message to congress. He said: "The motorcar has become an Indispensable Instrument In our po-, lltlcal, social and Industrial life. ..." I know of nothing more shocking than the millions of public funds wasted In Improved highways?wasted because there Is no policy of maintenance. Highways must be patrolled and coqstuntly repaired." Hene Vary in Weight Kgg-producing hens vary in weight, the average being about four pounds. The principal breeds of egg producers are the Leghorns, the Wyandottes. the Plymouth Hocks, the Rhode Island Reds and the Minorcas. * i Work le World Wide. Road construction and maintenance nave become world wide as well as provincial problems and foreign governments are doing much work toward highway development. Launch "Victory Highway." In recognition of the achievement of the heroes of the World war, a new const-to-const paved highway, known as the "Victory Highway," has been launched In Topeka, Kan. Wisconsin Building Roads. / In Wisconsin, concrete highways. 18 feet wide, ure constructed at the rate of a mile a week. Roads in United States. There are 3.27o.l31 nilies of public roads In the United States. I V