Cheraw chronicle. (Cheraw, S.C.) 1896-2005, August 04, 1921, Image 6
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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