Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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V Brew 1 Mill H ScEislSS. GE0R< H A Company (H n ? n i1 * " ? 5 CHAPTER I. H "rnr-?nE Little Sonsof the Rich" wore W I gathered about the long table W I In l'ettinglU's stiulio. There I A were nine of them preseut he 1 | sides llrewster. They were all young, K more or less enterprising, hopeful and | I B reasonably sure of better things to g come. Most of them bore names that < i meant something in the story of New I York. Indeed one of them had re ^ murked, "A man is known by the I street that's nnuiwl after htm," and as i I be was a new member they called him f Subway. 1 > The most popular man In the eo;u pauy \vu? j'oung Monty Brewster, lie < was tall and straight and smooth ' ' shaven, reople called him "clean looking." Older women were Interested In 1 him because his father and mother had mado a romantic runaway match. 1 which was the talk of the town in the ' seventies, ami had never been forgiven. Worldly women were interested in him ' because he was the only grandson of Edwin Peter Brewster, who was many ' times a millionaire, and Monty was ' fulrly certain to be his heir, barring au 1 absentiulndcd gift to charity. Younger women were interested for a much ( more obvious- and simple reason?they liked hiui. Men also took to Monty because he was a good sportsman, a man jpgAtoug men, because he had a decent respect for himself and no great aversion to work. Ills father and mother had both diedwhile he was still a child, and as if to make up for his long relent lessuess tlio grandfather had taken the boy to his >\v? house uiul had eared for him with what ho called affection. After college and some months on the continent, however, Monty had preferred to he independent. Old Mr. llrewster had foilnd lilui a place in the hank, hut beyond this and occasional dinners Monty asked for and received no favors. It was a question of work, and hard work and small pay. lie lived on his salary because he had to, hut he did not resent his grandfather's attitude, lie wan better satisfied to spend bis "weakly salary," as he called it. in ids own way than to earn more hy dining seven nights a week with an "old man who had forgotten he was ever young. , 11 was less wearing, he said. Among the Little 8011s of -the Rich birthdays were always occasions for feasting. The table was covered with dishes sent up from the French res- j taur.uit lu the basement. The chairs j were pushed back, cigarettes were lighted, men had their knees crossed. , Then Pettlugill got up. "Gentlemen," he began, "we are here to celebrate the twenty-fifth birthday * of .Mr. Montgomery, Brgwdor. I ask J you nil to Join tno in drinking to his long life and happiness." . "No heel taps!" same one shouted. "Brewster! Brewster!" all railed at c once. . "* "For he's n Jolly Rood fellow. For he's a Jolly pood fellow!" The sudden ringing of an electric boll cut off this How of sentiment, and so j unusual was the interruption that the top members straightened up as if jerked into position by a string. "The police!" some one suggest^]. ^ All faces were turned toward the door. ^ jkf A waiter stoo l there, uncertain whether to turn the knob or push the bolt. "Nuisance!" said Biehard Van Winkle. "I want to hear Brewster's ^ specc h." v "Speech! Speech!" Echoed everywhere. Men settled Jnto their places. "Mr. Montgomery Brewster." rottingill Introduced. J. Again the hell rang?loud and long. "He-enforcements. I'll he( there's a 1 patrol In the street." remarked Oliver 11 Harrison. "If It's only the police, let them In," said rettlnglll. "I thought It was a : creditor." ' The waiter opened the door. * "Some one to see Mr. Brewster, sir," he announced. * ? 4 13 siit? prt-ii.v, waiter? cautni rac-* Cloud. 1 "Ho says ho Is Ellis, from your grandfather's, sir!" "My compliments to Ellis and ask him to Inform my grandfather that It's aft- ' or hanking hours.' I'll moo hint In the morning." said Mr. Brewster, who had reddened under the jests of his com- ' panlons. R "Grandpa doesn't want his Monty I to stay out after dark," chuckled Sub- ( way Sinlth. 1 "It was most thoughful of the old * gentleman to hnre the man call for r you .with the perambulator." shouted I Pcttlngill above the laughter. "Toll e him you've already had your bottle," t added McCloud. J "Walter, tell Ellis I'm too busy to s be seen," commanded Brewster, and as fl Ellis went down In the elevator a roar s followed him. il "Now for Brewster's speech! Brew- t Bter!" % J Monty rose. ' 1 ^ "Gentlemen, yon seem to have for- t W gotten for the moment that I am twen- v ty-flve years old this day and that your e remarks have been childish and wholly t unbecoming the dignity of my age. t That I have arrived at a period of dls- 1 cretlon Is evident from my eholee of li friends; that I am entitled to your re- i spect is evident from my grandfather's t notorious wealth. You have done me 1 \ K ? ? ster's ions I SE BARR MCUTCHEON IICHAR.D GREAVES) * the lionor to drink my health and to re assure me ns to the Inoffensiveness ol approaching senility. Now 1 ask you ni to rise nn<l drink to the Little Sons ol the lticli. May the Lord love us!" An hour later Hip Van Winkle am Subway Smith were singing "Tell Me Pretty Maiden," to the uncertain ne coinpnnimcnt of PettlngiU's violin when the electric bell again disturbed the company. "For heaven's sake!" shouted llurrl son. who had been singing "With A1 Tliy Faults. I Love Thee Still," to Pet tiugill's lay figure. "Come home with me. grandson coiue home with me now," suggested Subway Smith. "Tell Fills to go to Halifax!" coin innndcd Montgomery. And again Hlli? took the elevator downward. Hi? itsuaiFy impassive face now wore a loot )t anxiety, and twice he started to re turn to the top tiorr, shaking his head luhiom-ly. At last he climbed into si innsom and reluctantly left the revet ts behind. He knew it was si birth lay celebration, ami it was only hall ;>ast 12 in the morning. At 2 o'clock the elevator made an jtlier trip to tHe top floor, and Ellis Harrison hod been Hinging to the lai figure. ushod over to the unfriendly door >ell. This time tlierc was stubborn letcrminntion in his face. The singng ceased, and a roar of laughter folowed the hush of a moment or two. "Come lu!" called a hearty voice, lud Ellis strode firmly into the studio. "You are just in time for a 'nlglit ap,' Ellis," erleil Harrison, rushing to he footman's side. Ellis, stolidly facng the young man, lifted ills lmml. "No, thank you, sir." lie said respeet'ully. "Mr. Montgomery, if you'll ex uso ilie for breaking in, I'd like to five you three messages I've brought lore tonight." "You're a faithful old chap," said lubwny Smith thickly. "Hanged if I'd lo A. D. T. work till 3 a. ru. for nny ody." ; "I came at 10, Mr. Montgomery, with i message from Mr. Brewster wishing *ou many happy returns of the day Ud with a check from him for $1,000. lore's the check, sir. I'll fjivo my inesages in the order I received them, sir, f you please. At 12:30 o'clock I came vlth a message from pr. Cower, sir, vho lind lieen called in"? "Called in'?" gasped Montgomery, urnlng white, "Yes. sir. Mr. Brewster had a sud Ion tjoart attack iit half past 11, sir. L'ho doctor sent Word by me, sir, that 10 was at the point of death. My last aessage"? '/ "Good Lord!" "Tills time I bring a message from tnwles, the butler, nsking you to conio o Mr. Brewster's bouse at once, if ou can, sir?I mean if you will, sir," lllls Interjected apologetically. Then, vith his gn/.o directed steadily over the lends of the subdued "sons," he added mpressively: "Mr. Brewster is dead, sir." ciiapteu ii. Montgomery brewster no longer had "prospects." People could not now point him out with the remark that oino day lie would come into a milion or two. lie had "realized," us River Harrison would have put It. rwo days after his grandfather's fuleral a iinal will and testament was end, and, as was expected, the old innker atoned for the hardships Rol>rt Brewster and his wife had endured ly bequeathing $1,000,000 to their son Montgomery. It was his without a rotrlctlon, without an admonition, wltb>111 mi In.-iinilirntmn 'riwrn wnu lint n uggcstion as to how It should I?e lianlied l>y the heir. The business training he old man lind Riven him was synon111011s with conditions not expressed 11 the will. The dead man believed hat he had drilled Into the youth nil inmlstakable conception of what was >xpected of him In life, If ho failed in liese expectations the misfortune vouhl be his alone to bear. A road ind been carved out for lilni, and beilml hlin stretched a long line of guide>osts whose laconic Instructions might >e Ignored, but never forgotten. Edwin Peter Brewster evidently made I1I3 will with the seusible conviction that it was necessary for him to die before anybody else coulil possess his money and that once dead It would be folly for blui to worry over the way lu which' beneficiaries might choose to manage their own affairs. The house in Fifth avenue went to a sister, together with a million or two, and the residue of the estate found kindly disposed relatives who were willing to keep it from going to the Home For Friendless Fortunes. Old Mr. Brewster left his affairs In order. The will nominated Jerome Buskirk as executor, and he was Instructed, in conclusion, to turn over to Montgomery Brewster the day after the will was probated securities to the amount of C $l,U?k),tHiO, provided for in clause 4 1 of the instrument. And so it was that f on the 20th of September young Mr. Brewster had an unconditional fortune 1 thrust upon him, weighted only with , the suggestion of crape that clung to it. Since his grandfather's death he had , been staying at the gloomy old Brew1 ster house In Fifth avenue, paying but two or three hurried visit* tr> tim at Mrs. (.Jray's where he had made h!x 1 home. The gloom of death stii} darken ed the Fifth avenue plaee, and there was a stillness, a gentle stealtlilness, ; about tlie house that made him long 1 for more cheerful companionship. lie wondered dimly if a fortune always - carried the suggestion of tuberoses. < The richness and strangeness of it all 4 hung about him unpleasantly, lie had ; had no extravagant affection for the grim oil dictator who was dead, yet I his grandfather was a man and had i commanded his respect. It seemed brutal to leave him out of the reckoning ?to dance on the grave of the mentor who had treated him so well. The attitude of the friends who clapped him on the hack, of the newspapers which i congratulated liim, of the crowd Hint expected him to rejoice, repelled him. It seemed a tragic comedy, haunted, too. by memories and by sharp regret for his own foolish thoughtlessness. Even the fortune itself weighed upon hint at moments with a half defiued melancholy. Yet the situation was not without its compensations. For several days when Kills called him nt 7 lie wnniii answer him ami thank fortune that ho was not required at the hank that morning. The luxury of another hour of sleep seemed the greatest perquisite of wealth. His morning mall amused him nt first, for since the newspapers had published ids prosperity to the world lie was deluged with letters. Requests for public or private charity were abundant, hut most of his correspondents were geuerous and thought , anuly of his own good. For three days he was In a hopeless state of bewilderment. lie was visited by reporters, photographers and ingenious strangers, who benevolently offered to Invest his money in' enterr prises with certltled futures. When lie was not engaged in declining a gold mine in Colorado, worth $5,000,000, marked down to $450, he was avoiding a guileless Inventor who offered to sacrifice the secrets of a marvelous device for $500 or denying the report that he had been tendered the presidency of the First National bank. Oliver Harrison stirred hint out early one morning and, while tho sleepy millionaire was rubbing ills eyes and still dodging the bombshell that a dream anarchist had hurled from the pinnacle of a bedpost, urged him in excited, i confidential tones to take time by tho forelock and prepare for possible breach of promise suits, ltrewster Rat on the edge of the bed and listened to diabolical stories of how conscienceless females had fleeced innocent and even godly men of wealth. From the bathroom between splashes he retained Harrison by the year, month, day and hour to stand between hint and blackmail, Tho directors of the bank met and adopted resolutions lamenting the death of their late president, passed the leadership on to the first vice president and speedily adjourned. The question of admitting Monty to the directory was brought up and discussed, but it was left for time to settlo. One of the directors was Colonel Prentiss Drew, "tho railroad magnate" of tho newspapers. He had shown a fondness for young Mr. Brewster, and Monty had been a frequent visitor at his house. Colonel Drew called him "my dear boy," and Monty called him "a bully old chap," though not in his presence. But the existence of Miss Barbara Drew may have had something to do with the feeling between the two men. As he left the directors' room on tho afternoon of the meeting Colonel Drew came up to Monty, who had notified the officers of the bank that ho was leaving. "Ah, my dear hoy," said the colonel, slinking tlio young man's linml warmly, "now j'ou linve n chance to show wlint you can do. You have a fortune, and, with Judgment, you ought to be able to triple It. If I eau help you In any way, come and see me." Monty thanked lilro. "You'll be bored to death by the raft of peoplo who have ways to spend your money," continued the colonel. "Don't listen to any of them. Take your time. You'll have a new chance to make money every day of your life, so go slowly, I'd have lieen rich years and years ago |f I'd had sense enough to ran away from promoters. They'll all try to get a whack at your money. Keep your eye open, Monty. Tho rich young man Is always a tempting morsel." After a moment's reflection he added, "Won't you come out and dlno with us tomorrow night?" CHAPTER III, MRP. GRAY lived In Fortieth street. For yenrs Montgomery Rrewster had regarded her quiet, old fashioned home as his own. The house bad once been her i grandfather's, and it wa3 one of the pioneers In that part of the town. It i was there she was born, in Its quaint old parlor she was married, and all her girlhood, her brief wedded life and her widowhood were connected with It. Mrs. Gray and Montgomery's mother had beeu schoolmates and playmates, and their friendship endured. When old Edwin Fetcr Brewster looked about for a place to house his orphaned gratuli sou, Mrs. Gray begged him to let her care for the little fellow, lie was three years older than her Margaret, and the children grew up as brother and sister. Mf.. Brewster was generous In providing for the boy. While lie was away at "college, spending money in a ] manner tlnvtK'aused the old gentleman to marvel at his own liberality. Mrs. Gray wji& well paid for the unused but well kept apartments, and there never was a piuniyir of complnlf*. from Edwin Petet Brewster. He was hard, but he was .not niggardly. 1 It bad been something of a struggle for MrSi'.Gray to make both ends meet, i The property in Fortieth street was ' her only possession. But little money 1 had oonje to her at her husband's <!eathr tind an unfortunate ape ulatl ui ( of his ligd" swept away all that ha 1 fallen to""lu>r from her*father, the late j Judge "Merri weather. For years she kept tile old home unincumbered, teaching' French mul Engll di until Margaret tyas well into her teens. The girl was Stent to one of the good old boarding schools on the Hudson, and catne out TiVolh prepared to help her mother in the battle to keep the wolf down and'appearances up. Margaret was rich ill friendships, and pride alono. Stood between her and the advantages tl\ey ottered. Good looking. bright.ami cheerful, she know no natural privations. With n heart as light and joyous as a May morning she faced- adversity as though it were a pleasure, and no one would have suspected that even for a mortient her courage ws\vcred. Now that Brewster hud come into his spl^ndkl fortune he could conceive no greater delight than to share it with them. To walk into the little drawiug room and serenely lay largo sums before them as their own seemed such a< natural proceeding that he refused to see* an obstacle. But he knew it was tfierc. Tlio proffer of such a gift to Mrs. Gray would mean a wouud to the pride inherited from haughty generations of men fjutllelent unto thejm?olves. There was a small but troublesome mortgage on the house, a matter of two or three thousand dollars, and Brewster tried to evolve a plan by which ho could assume the' burden without giving deep 1 aud lasting offense. A hundred wild l designs had come to him, but they were fpiickly relegated to the growing heap of subterfuges and pretexts condemned by his'tenderness for the pride [ of these typo women who meant so ' much to him. { Boavhig the bank, he hastened by electTter-^BC^ to- Fortieth street and 1 Br<>iuCn .vralkod eagerly oft inv tut- mreet or tne numeral. Ho h.ul notyotcmue to the point where he felt ' like scorning tlie cars even though a ' ~->tl of brink notes Was tucked snugly ' gway li) a pocket that seemetl to swell With sudden affluence. Old Hendriek, faithful servitor through two generaj tlous, wus sweeping the.autumn leaves from ther sidewalk when Montgomery ' came up to the house. "Hello, Hendriek!" was the young ! man's cheery 'greeting. "Nice lot of leaves you have there." "So?" ebbed from Hendriek, who did not even so much as look up from his work. Hendriek was n human clam. "Mrs. Cray in?" A grunt that signified yes. "You're as loquacious as ever, Hendriek." A mere nod. lire water let himself In with his own (lntchkey, threw his hat on a chair and unceremoniously bolted Into the libra ry. .Margaret wns seated near a window, a book In her lap. The tlrst evidence of unbiased friendship he bad seen In days shone In her smile. She took his hand and said simply, "We are glad to welcome the prodigal to his homo again." "I remind myself more of the fatted calf." Her tlrst self consciousness had gone. "I thought of that, hut I didn't dare say It," she laughed. "One must be respectful to rich relatives." "Ilang your rich relatives, I'eggy! If I thought that this money would make any difference I would give it up this minute." "Nonsense, Monty!" she sfild. "How could It make a difference? But you must admit It Is rather startling. The friend of our youth leaves his humble dwelling Saturday night with his salary drawn for two weeks ahead. lie returns the following Thursday a dnzxllng millionaire," "I'm glad I've begun to dazzle anyway. I thought It might he hard to look the part." "Well. I can't see that you are much changed." There wns a suggestion of a quaver In her voice, and the shadows (lid not prevent hiui from seeing the quick mist that flitted across her deep eyes. "After all. It's easy work being a millionaire," he explained, "when you've o 1..... .... l.o.l .olllloo .loll? 1. *l~ ? <11 ?? ?,? nm? iiiiiiiv/u uuiiiii im iiuiiii.iun, "And fifty cent possibilities," she added. "Really, though, I'll never get as much Joy out of my abundant riches ns I did out of financial embarrassments." "But think how fine It Is, Monty, not ever to wonder where your winter's overcoat Is to come from and how long the coal will last and all that.1' "Oh, I never wondered about my overcoats. The tailor did the wondering. But I wish I could go on living hero Just as before. I'd a heap rather live here than at that gloomy place on the avenue." "That sounded like the things you used to say when we played lu the \ 4 garret. You'd a heap so.v.j ?r ?lo this thau that, dou't you t nu ir.l r?" "That's Just why l\l rat!. live here, Fcggy. Last night 1 fell t .inking of that old garret, and hang '. if something didn't conic up and stick in my throut so tight th it I wante I to cry. IIow long lias it heen since we plu>ed up there? Yes, and how long has it been since 1 read Oliver Optic to you, lying there In the garret window while you sat with your back against the wall, your blue eyes as big as dollarsV' "Ob, dear me, Monty, it was ages ago?twelve or thirteen years, at least," she cried, a soft light In her eyes. "I'm going up there this afternoon to see what the place is like," he said eagerly. "And, Peggy, you must come too. Maybe I can find one of th >se Optic books, and we'll be young again." ".lust for old time's sake," she said impulsively. "You'll stay for luncheon too." "I'll have to be at the?no. 1 won't I either. I>o you know. 1 was thinkim* i liail to bo ut the bank at 12:110 to lot Mr. Perkins go out for something to oat? The millionaire habit isn't so firmly fixed as I supposed." After a moment's pause, in which his growing seriousness changed the atmosphere, he went on haltingly, uncertain of his position, "The nicest tiling about having all this money is that? that?wo won't have to deny ourselves anything after this." It did not sound very taet! ful, now that it was out, and lie was compelled to scrutinize rather intently a familiar portrait in order to maintain an air of careless assurauce. She did not respond to this venture, but he felt that she was looking directly into his sorely tried brain. "We'll do any amount of decorating about the house, and?and you know that furnace has been giving us a lot of trouble for two or three years"? lie was pouring out ruthlessly wlieu lior hand fell gently on his own, and she stood straight and tall before liiiu, an odd look in her eyes. "Don't?please don't go on. Monty," she said very gently, but without wavering. "I know what you mean. You are good and very thoughtful. Monty, hut you really must not." "Why, what's mine is yours"? lie began. "I know you are generous, M >ntv. nml I know you lmve a heart. Vou want us to?to take some of your money." ft was not easy to say it, and as for Monty, he could only look at the floor. "We cannot, Monty, dear. Vou must never speak of it again. Mamma and I had a feeling that you would do It; but, don't you see, even from you it Is an offer of help, and it hurts." "Don't talk like that, l'eggy," he implored. "It would break her heart if you offered to give her money in that way. She'd hate It, Monty. It is foolish, perhaps, hut you know we can't take your money." "I thought you?that you?oh, this' knocks all the Joy out of it'." he hurst out desperately. "Dear Monty!" "Let's talk it over, Peggy. You don't understand," ho began, dashing at what he thought would bo n break in her resolve. "Don't!" she commanded. And in her blue eyes was the hot flash lie had fell once or twice before. Ho rose and walked across the floor, back and fortli again and then stood She stood straight and tall before him. before her, a smile on his lips?a rather pitiful smile, but still a smile. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at him. "It's a confounded puritanical prejudice, Peggy," he Kuid in futile protest, "and you know it." "You have not seen the letters that eanie for you this morning. They're on the table over there," she replied, Ignoring l.ini. lie found the letters and resumed his seat in the window, glancing half hcnrtedly over the contents of the envelopes. The last was from Crant & ltipley, attorneys, and even from his abstraction it brought a surprised "Ity Jove!" He read it aloud to Margaret. Sept. 30. Montgomery Brewster, Ksq.. New York: Denr Sir?We are In receipt of a communication from Mr. Swearongen Jones of Montana conveying the sn<l tntolllgenco that your uncle. James T Sedgwick, died on the 24th Inst, at M? hospital In Portland after a brief Illness. Mr. Jones by t),la Mmn V>?a mmlltln.l I r. X t .. u t Vw. ! ...... ....... ...... ... ...V...U..U .10 ?? I executor of your uncle's will and has retained us as his eastern representatives. ! Ho Incloses a copy of the will. In which ! you aro named ns ffole heir, with oondl- j tlons nttendinp. Will you call at our of- | flee this afternoon If It Is convenient? It I Is Important that you know the contents of the Instrument at once. Respectfully yours, GRANT & RIPI.EY. For a moment there was only nmnzomont In the air. Then a faint, bewildered smile appeared In Monty's face nnd reflected Itself in the girl's. "Who is your Uncle James?" she askedL ^ 1 ' I* "I've uover heard of him." "You must go to Grant & Ripley's at once, of course." "Have you forgotten, Peggy," he replied, with a hint of vexation In his voice, "that we are to read Oliver Optic this afternoon?" CHAPTER IV. X TOU ore both fortunate ami unfortunate, Mr. Brewster," I said Mr. Grant, after the A young man had dropi>ed into u chair in the otltee of Grant A: ltlpley the next day. Montgomery wore a slightly bored expression, and it was evident that lie took little Interest iu the will of James T. Sedgwick. Fr >:n far back In the recesses of memory lie now recalled this long lost brother of his mother. As a very small ei M '^he had seen ids Uncle James upon tie* few occasions which brought him to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Brewster. But the young man had dined with the Drews the night before and Barbara had had more (harm for lilln than usual. It was of her that he was thinking when he walked Into the olllce of Swearengen Jones' lawyers. "The truth is, Mr. Grant, I'd completely forgotten the existence of an uncle," he responded. "It Is not surprising," said Mr. (Irant genially. "Every one who knew liiin In Xew York nineteen years ago believed him to ho dead. lie left the city when you were a very small lad, going to , Australia, I think. He was off to seek his fortune, and he needed It pretty badly when he started out. This letter from Mr. Jones comes like a message from the dead. Were It not that we have known Mr. Jones for a long time, handling affairs of considerable importance for him, I should feel Inclined to doubt the whole story. It seems that your uncle turned up In Montana about fifteen years ago and there formed a stanch friendship with old Swearengen .Tones, one of the richest men In the far west. Sedgwick's will was signed on the day of his death. Sept. 24, and it was quite natural that Mr. Jones should be named as his executor. That is how we became interested in the matter, Mr. Brewster." "I see," said Montgomery, somewhat puz/.led. "But why do you say that I am both fortunate and unfortunate?" ino summon is so remarkable tlint you'll consider that a mild way of putting It when you've heard everything. I think you were told in our note of yesterday that you are the sole heir. Well, it may surprise you to learn that James Sedgwick died possessed of an estate valued at almost $7,000,00?." Montgomery Brewster sat like one petritled, staring blankly at the old lawyer, who could say startling things in a level voice. "lie owned gold mines and ranches In the northwest, and there is 110 question as to their value. Mr. Joi.es in his letter to us briefly outllues the history of .Tallies Sedgwick from the tliue lie' landed in Moutana. lie reached there in ISSo from Australia, and he was worth SJO.OOO or $10,000 at the time. Within Ave yonrs be was the owner of a huge ranch, and scarcely had another five years passed before he was part owner of three rich gold mines. Possessions accumulated rapidly; everything be touched turned to gold. II<? was shrewd, eareful and thrifty, and his money was handled with all the skill of*a Wall street financier. At the time of his death iu Portland lie did not owe a dollar in the world. Ills property is absolutely unincumbered?safe and sound as a government bond. It's rather overwhelming. isn't It?" the lawyer concluded, uiKiug note or itrewster 8 expression. "Ami ho?he left everything to me?" "With ;i proviso." "Ah!" "I have a copy of the will. Mr. Ripley and I are the only persons in New York who at present know Its contents. You, 1 am sure, after hearing it, will not divulge them without the most careful deliberation." ! jf [TO BE CONTINUED.] !j It ne-er rains but It spoils somebody's millinery. It must {five ft horse Joy of which men know nothing to pass an automobile repair shop. Many small boys are now hankering after the paregoric bottle. Summer Girls and Summer Heroes. Through hotel chat anil good report. Through muddy roads and tennis court. Through biter patch and tumblo weeds. No matter how our sail, heart bleeds. We follow where the golf girl leads. Once men to glory or to doom Rodo on where waved the snow white plume: They followed some old rounder fat, Who wore a star upon his hat; They didn't chnso a girl's cravat But now on any pleasant day. If In the raco you want to stay, You havo to chase around tho links, ^ No matter how your backbone kinks Or how your drooping spirit sinks. V One? on a sad but glorious day Napoleon's eagles led the way; A black horse of a helmet tall Then caused a rush of men to fall. But now a golf girl beats them all. Through bog and quicksand, rain and snow. We'll follow where the girls may go; To Hymen's altar somo sweet day Twill lead us while the organs playIt papa doesn't block tho way.