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Wif %W§F\T*Wv1* <# f( -1> * ^ * t » V ' i'; v, «:. -lV. * »y>1' >.' A;r '/.V ) , kV% ' * v * ' <**3^ *"'" ^ Vrj rir^ 1B8WWPSEweRR V£«M£i w'ti1 - > ^ '•• ,r%7</^ • ^ «W» ?L '.^v* -- ' *" "x %'••'• '.; ^ jkV( f $'* jgsgs )%%%%%%«%%'%%%%%%%%%' The Real Adventure N O V E L - I P '" ** > - * -. - ®r Heiry Kitchell Webster If--n ::"̂ tOou?ri«fc* »14. 1<5*» Bobtw-Merrtii Goikpaot) CHAPTER XX--Continued. '1 ^4^"* '"vrf -V'- sife/ . * * ,'*V" • i, • • W.v'T,' fee' " * 1% l • 'r*"'\ *'.; ^: % J- ' j!f Sktfi.i' f>, f y it?* • V^y • P." ifc f-V^' •wi^v-: w&t '•^V* 'jfe' ^,>r. , ;#/• . te*K '& 0 m frrw "t*> ¥r'<> mm, >*# • V ft'."" P M-. h}r- -Prespntly she caine. A buffet Of wind struck her as she closed the door bfehind her. ani whipped her unbut­ toned ulstsr about ,* but she did not | it--und&iiwiedljr fad com $ U i*k fa* > themselves, and, out of pity or con­ tempt, hadn't told him. He told her how he'd felt, sitting therein ; the theater. He accused her as his < wrath burned brighter. of having se­ lected the thing to <lo that would hurf ; him worst, of having borne a grudge I against hlni and avenged it. | It was the ignoblest moment of his ; life, and he knew it. The accusa­ tions he was making against her were nothing to those that were storing up in his mind against himself. He didn't look at her as he talked, and she didn't Interrupt; said no word of denial or defense. The big out­ burst spent itself. He lapsed ihto an uneasy silence, got himself together again, and went on trying to restate his grievance--this time more reason­ ably, retracting a little. But under h<?r,^continued silence lie grew weak­ ly Irritated again. When at last she spoke, he turned his eyes toward her and saw a sort of frozen look in her dull white face that It- intonation was monotonous. her voice »<*airely. audible. "I guess I understand," she said. "I don't know whether I wish I \Vere dead or not. If I'd died when the babies were born. . . . But Tin glad 1 came away when I did; And I'm glad." she gave a.fnint shudder there at the alternative, "I'm glad I've got a job and that I can pay back .that hundred dollars I owe you. I've, had it quite a while. But I've kept it, hoping you might find* out where I Jvasi and come to me, as you did, and that we might have a chanee to talk. I thought I'd tell you how I'd earned ft, and that you'd be a little--proud with fine about it, proud that I could pay it back so soon." She smiled a little over that, a smile he had to turn away from. sup­ pose I'll be glad, some day, that it all happened; that I met you and loved you and had the babies, even though it's all had to end," she shud­ dered again, "like this." It wasn't till he tried to speak that her apparent calm was broken. Then, with a sudden frantic terror in her eyes, she begged him not to--begged him to go away, if he had any mercy for her at all, quickly and without a word. In a sort of daze he obeyed her. The tardy winter morning, looking through her grimy window, found her sitting there, just as she'd been when he closed the door. In cower under it, nor'turn away--stood j he hnd n<?ver seen in it before. Her • ~ _ • . • « . , , . ' infAnntiAn mao VMAI there, fintfy erect, confronting It. There ww something alert about her pose--he i*>uldn't see her face distinct­ ly--that suggested she was expecting somebody. And then, ,fiot lllbUd, bitt *ery distinctly*. "Iiodtf.v," she said: , ' Be tr'ed to tpeak her name, but tils dry thfoflt denied it utterance. He began, suddenly to tremble". He came forward ont of the shadow and she saw him and came to meet him, and spoke his nam<i again. X- "I saw you when you went out," she said. "I wa& afraid yoti Mightn't wait. I hurried as fast as I could. rve--w-waited eo long. Longer than you." Ho managed at last to speak, and, as hv» did so, reached out and took her by the shoulders. "Come home," be said, "You must come home;" At that she iitepped back and shook her head. Bnt he had discovered, while , his hands held her, that she was trembling too. Th<? stage dojr opened again to emit • group of thi*ee of the "ponies." Thfy stared curiously at Dane and the big man wl»o stood there with her, then scurried 4way down the alley. "We can't talk here," he said. "We mnet go some?,-here," Sit? nodded assent, and they moved off f!de by side after the three little glril but slower. In an accumulation of ffhadows, half way down the alley, he gripped her arm tight and they both feto»fJ still. The next moment, and without a word, they moved on again. Finally--"Afe you all right Roddy? And the babfea?" she managed to say. "tt's a good many days since I've heard from Portia." And then, sud­ denly: "Was it because anything had gontt wrong tbtt you came?" - *1 didn't know you were here until I saw you on the stage," he said. iThis was all. in words, that passed until he looked about him in a sort of dazed bewilderment when she stopped. At last, at the stoop before her door. - ^Here's where I live," she said. "Where you live!" he echoed Wankly. * "Ever since I went away--to Cali­ fornia. I've been right here--where 1 could almost see the smoke of your chimneys. I've a queer little room-- I only pay three dollars a week for it r~4*ut--it's big enough to be alone In.*' "Rose . . he said, hoarsely. A drunken inan came lurching piti­ ably down the street, ghe shrank into the angle of the steps, and Rodnoy fol­ lowed her. found her with his hands, and heard her rolce speaking breath­ lessly, in gasps. He hardly knew what she was paying. "It's been wonderful ... I know we haven't talked; well do that some other time, somewhere where we can . . . But tonight, walking along like that, Jnst an . . . Tomorrow, I shall think it was all a dream." ."Rose . . 1 The only sound that came In an­ swer was a long, tremulously Indrawn breath. But presently her hand took the one of his that had been clutching her shoulder and led him up th» steps. She opened the door with a latchkey, and then, behind her, he mude his way up two flights of narrow stairs. whose faint creak made all the sound there was. In* the hlack little corridor St the top she unlocked another door. "Wait till I Ught the gas," she breathed. She turned and looked into his face, 4»er eyes searching it as his were searching hers, luminously and with a swiftly kindling Are. Her lips parted a little, trembling. There was a sort of bloom on her skin that became more visible as the blood, wave on ^av% came flushing in behind it. As for Rodney, he was the same lean who, an hour ago, in the theater, had raged and writhed under what he felt to be an invasion of his propri­ etary rights In her. L ,He wouldn't have defined It that way, to be sure, in a talk with Barry Lake; would have denied, with the beat of them, that a husband had any proprietary rights in his wife. But the intolerable sense of having be- 'come an object of derision or con­ temptuous pity,' of being disgraced and of her being degraded, couldn't derive from anything else but just that. *'Have you anything here." he asked l|»r dully, "besides what will go iu that trunk?" It was the surliness of his tone. rather than the words themselves, that startled her. "No," she said, puzzled. "Of J Course not." * "Then throw them into it quickly," J® Mid. "and we'll lock the thing up »o you owe any rent?" "Roddy!" she said. "What do you "I mean you're going to get out of fl»ls beastly plaee now--tonight We're j|otng home. We eaft leave an address j jbr the trunft. If it never comes, so > Hiuch the better," Again all she could do was to ask Mm, with a beffrtidete* stammer, what %e meant. "Because," &be added, "I can't go ne yet. I've---only started." '•Started!" he echoed. "Do you link I'm gol»g to let this beastly ree go any further?? And with tliat he told her what id happened In- hts office that after- •oou. ujtO her of the attitude ,of his CHAPTER XXI. Frederica's Paradox. Two days later Rodney walked on Frederica at breakfast, alone. "Hello!" Frederica said, holding out a hand'to him, but not rising. "Just in time." "Don't ring." he said quickly. 'Tve had all I want. My train got in an hour ago and I had a try at the sta­ tion restaurant." "Well, sit down, anyway," said Frederica. She reached oqt n cool, soft hand and laid it on one of Rod­ ney's which rented limply on the table. There was rather a long silence--ten seconds, perhaps. Then: "How did you find oat about It?" Rodney asked. They were b»>th too well accustomed to these telepathic short-cuts to take any note of this one. She'd seen that he knew, just with her first glance at him there in ths doorway; and some­ thing a' little tenderer and gentler than most of hor caresses about this one, told him thjjt she did. "Harriet's bacx," she said. "She got in day before yesterday. Constance said something to her about It, think­ ing she knew. They've thought all along that you aid I knew, too." And then: "How did you find out about It, Roddy? Who told you?" "No one," he said. In a voice un­ naturally level and dry. "I went to see the show on the recommendation of a country client, and there she was on the stage." "Oh!" cried Frederica--a muffled, barely audible cry of passionate sym- AU fit' Presently She Came. pathy. Then: "You've seen her off the stage--talked with her?" "I didb't ask her to explain," said Rodney. "I asked her to come home and she wouldn't." 1 "Oh, it's wicked!" she cried. "It's the most abominably selfish thing I ever heard of!" "Pull up. Freddy!" he said. Rather gently, though, for him. '"There's no good going on like that. And besides . . . You were saying Harriet would do anything in the world for me. Well, there's something you can do. You're the only person I know who can." Her answer was to come around be­ hind his chair, put her cheek down beside his, and reach for his hands. "Let's get away from this miserable breakfast table," she said. "Come up to where I live, where we can be safe­ ly by ourselves; then tell me about cf t5";v*.ei ing dow*n,«f^l#r as ishe sat In her h<»w» ered wing chair, an enormously dis­ tended rug-covered ptllofiv beside her knees waiting for hjiu to drop down on when he felt he begun rather cautiously,to tell her what he wanted. Til tell yott the reasou why Tve come to you." he began, "and then you'll see,' Do you remember nearly two years ago, the night I got wet coming here to dinner--the night you were going to marry rae off to Her- mione Woodiufif? \ye hfid a long talk afterward* <jtnd yOa said, ^speaking df the chance| people took getting mar­ ried, that It wasn't me you worried about, but the girl, whoever she might be, who married ine." The little gesture she made, admit ted the recollection, but denied Its- relevancy. She'd have said something to that effect, but he prevented her. "No," he insisted, "it wasn't jus«t talk. There was something in it. Af­ terward, when we were engaged, two or three times, you gave roe tips about things, And since we've been married . . . Well, somehow, Tve had the teellng that you were on her side; that you saw things her way--thiagp that I didn't see." "Little things," fdte protested; "lit­ tle tiny things that couldn't possibly matter--things that any woman Would be on another wdman's side, as you say, about." ^ But she contradicted this statement at once. "Oh, I did love her!" she said fiercely. "Not just because she loved you, but because I thought she was al­ together adorable. I couldn't help it. And of course that's what makes me so perfectly furious now--that she should have done a thing like this to "you." "All right," he said. "Never mind about that. This Is what I want you to do. I want you to go td see her, and I want you to ask her, in the first place, to try to forgive me." "What for?" Frederica demanded. "I want you to tell her," he went on, "that it's impossible that she should be riaore horrified at the thing I did, than I am myself. I want you to ask her, what­ ever she thinks my deserts are, to do just one thing for me, and that is to let me take her out of that perfectly hideous place, I don't ask anything else but that. She can miike any terms she likes. She can live where or how she likes. Only--not .like that. May­ be it's a desei^ed punishment, but I can't stand it!" ^ , There was the crystallization of what little thinking he had managed to do in the two purgatorial days he'd spent in a down-state hotel--in the in­ tervals of fighting off the memory of the dull, frozen < agony he'd seen, in Rose's face as be left her. Frederica, naturally, was mystified. "That's absurd, of course, Roddy," she said gently. "You haven't done any­ thing to Rose to be forgiven for." "YouH just have to take my word for It," he said shortly. "I'm not exaggerating." "But, Roddy !" she persisted. "You must be sensible.. Oh, It's no wonder! You're all worn out. You look as If you hadn't slept for nights. What if you were angry and lost your temper and hurt her feelings? Heavens! Weren't you entitled to, after what: she'd done? And when she'd left you to find it out like, that?" "I tell you,^you jsion't know,the first thing about it." . ^. "I don't wppo^ .yop-Hteftt hejv did yOU?" . ' : " - ' ; It was too' Infurtatihjf,* luftlbg him m e e k l i k e t h i s ! " . . . . His reply was barely audible: "I might better have done It." Frederica sprang to her feet. "Well, then, I'll tell yqu!" she said. "I won't go to her. I'll go if you'll give me a free hand. If you'll let me tell her what I think of what she's done and the way she's* done it--not letting you know--not giving you a chance. But go and beg her to forgive you, I won't." "All right," he said dully. * "You're within your rights, of course." The miserable scene dragged on a little longer. Frederica cried and pleaded and stormed without moving bim at all. He seemed distressed at her grief, urged her to treat his re­ quest as If he hadn't made It; but he explained nothing, answered none of her questions. It was an enormous relief to her, and, she fancied, to him, for that mat­ ter, when, after a premonitory knock at the dooi^ Harriet walked in upon them. • The situation didn't need much ex­ plaining, but Frederica summed it up while the others exchanged their cool­ ly friendly greetings, with the state­ ment : "Rod's been trying to get me to go to Rose artd say tnat it was all his fault, and I wont." Why not?" said Harriet. "What earthly thing does It matter whose fault it is? He can have it his fault if he likes." "You know it isn't," Frederics mut­ tered rebelliously. Harriet seated herself delicately and deliberately In one of the curving ends of a little Victorian sofa, and stretched her sllrti legs out in front of her. "Certainly I don't care whose fault it is," she said. "You never get any where by trying to decide a question like that. What I'm Interested in is what can be done about It It's not a very nice situation. Nobody likes it-- at least I should think Rose would be pretty sick of it by i*>w. She may have been crazy for a stage career, but she's probably seen that the chorus of a-third-rate musical comedy won't take her any where. The thing's simply a mess, and the only thing to do is to clear It up as quickly and as decently as we can--and it can be cleared up if we go at it right. Of course the thing to do is to get her out of that horrible place as soon as we can. And I- sup­ pose the best way of doing it will be to get her into something else--take her down to New York and work her into a small part in some good com­ pany. Almost anything, if it came to that, so long as It wasn't music. Oh, and have her use her own name, and let us make as much of it as we can. Face It out. Pretend we like it. I don't say it's Ideal, but it's better than this." "Her own name?" he echoed blank­ ly. "Do you mean she made one up?" Hyrtst qodttdi' ttite- tiwtleu itiit v. ti.> «»e- fore I knew what she was talking about. And of course I couldn't go back and ask. Daphne, something. 1 think. It sounded exactly like a chorus mime, aiiyhow." And then: "Well, how about ttlAjPUl you play the game?" ^--.-w . / . "Oh. yes," lie said, with a dociiify that surprised Frederica. "I'll play it. It comes to exactly the saute thing, what we both want done, and ottr rea­ sons for doing it are important to no­ body but ourselves." She turned to Frederica. "You,, too, Freddy ?" she asked. "Will' you give your moral principles a vacation and take Rod's message to Rose, even though you may think it's Quixotic nonsense?" "I'M see Rose myaelf," said Rodney quietly. • • • * ' • • • He was standing near the foot of the Stairs when she came down, with a raincoat on and a newspaper twisted up in his hand, and at sight of her, he took off his soft, wet hat, and crushed it up along with the newspaper. He moved over toward her, but stopped two or three feet away. "It's very good of you to come," he said, his it£id .'iJBie His Eyes Didn't Once Seek Her Face. voice lacking a little of the ridiculous stiffness of his words, not much. "Is there some place where we can talk a little more--privately than here? I shan't keep you long." "There's a room here somewhere," she said.' The room she led him to was an ap­ propriately preposterous setting- for the altogether preposterous talk that ensued between them. It had a mosaic floor, with a red plush carpet on it, two stained-glass windows in yellow and green, flanking an oak mantel which framed an enormous expanse of mot­ tled purple tile, with a diminutive gas- log in the middle. A glassy-looking oak table occupied most of the room, and the chairs that were crowded in around it were upholstered in highly polished coffee-colored lior^e-hlde, with very ornate nails. It's dreadfully hot in here," Rose said. "You'd better take off your coat." She squeezed in between the table and one of the chairs and seated herself. Rodney threw down his wet hat, his newspaper, and then his raincoat, on the table, and slid into a chair oppo­ site her. "I want to tell you first," Rodney said, and his manner was that of a schoolboy reciting to his teacher an apology which has been rehearsed at home under the sanction of paternal authority--"I want to tell you how d e e p l y s o r r y I a m f o r . . . " He had his newspaper in his hands again and was twisting it up. His eyes didn't once seek her face. But they might have done so in perfect safety,- because her own were fixed on his hands and the newspaper they crum­ pled. . He didn't presume to ask her for­ giveness, he told her. He couldn't ex­ pect that; at least not at present. He went on lamely, In broken sentences, repeating what he'd said already in still more inadequate words. He was unable to stop talking until she should say something, it hardly mattered what. And she was unable to say any­ thing. The formality of his phrases go* stiffef and finally congealed Into a blank silence. ' Finally she said, with a gasp; "I have something to ask you to--forgive me for. That's for leaving you to find out--where I was, the way you did. You see, I thought at first that no one would know me, made up and all. And when I found out I would be recog­ nizable, It was too late to stop--or at least It seemed so. Besides, I thought you knew. I saw Jimmy Wallace oi^t there the opening night, and saw he recognized me, and--I thought he'd tell yqu. And then I kept seeing other people ̂ ut in front after that, people we knew, who'd come to see for them­ selves, and I thought, of course, you knew. And--I suppose I was a cow­ ard--I waited for you to come. I wasn't, as you thought, trying to hurt you. But I can see how it must have looked like that." He said quickly: "You're not to blaine at all. 1 remember how yoti of­ fered to tell me what you Intended to do before you went away, and that I wouldn't let you." Slletice froze down upon them again. I can't forgive myself," he said at last. "I wijnt to take back the things I said that night--about being dis­ graced and all. I was angry over not having known when the other people did. It wasn't your being on the stage. We're not as bigoted as that. "I've come to ask a favor of you, though, and that is that you'll let me --let us all--help you. I can't--bear having you live like this, knocking about like this, where all sorts of things can happen to you. And going under >an assumed na^ike. I've no right to ask a favor, I know, but I do. Ipak lowtotfks youiruwa same aytia -- . . . . t r i c k . I y o « w * let us help ,vou to get a better posl» tiuft ttoun this, that Is, .if you haven't changed your mind about being on the stage; a position that will have more hope and promis? in it. 1 want you to -feel that we're--with you." • "Who are 'we?'" She accompanied that question with a straight look. Into Ills eyes. "Why." be said, "the only, two peo­ ple Tve talke l with about It--Fred­ erica and Harriet. I thought you'd be glad to know that they felt as I did." The first flash of real feeling she had shown, was thte, one that broke through on her repetition of the name "Harriet!" - "Yes," he said, and he had, for ab««dt ten seconds, the misguided sense of di­ alectical triumph. "I know a HI tie how you feel toward her, and majbe tfhe's justified it But not in this case. Because it was Harriet who made 'ne see that there wasn't anything--fJs- • graceful about your going on <he stage, It was her own idea that jou ought to us& your own name and g*ve us a chance to help you. She'll be only too glad to help." During the short while she let elajise before she spoke, his conviction-car­ rying power of this statement ebl'ed somewhat, though he hadn't seen yet what was \^rong with it. "Yes," she said at last, "I thibljt 1 can see Harriet's view of it. ^'As long as Rose had run avyay and joined a fifth-rate musical comedy in order to be on the stage, and as long as every­ body knew it, the only thing to do was to get her into something respectable so that you could all pretend you liked It. It was all pretty shabby, of course, for the Aldriches, and, in a way, what you deserved for marrying a person like that. Still, that was no reason for nonpitting the best face on it you could.' And that's why you came to find me!" "No, it isn't," he said furiously. Hib elaborately assumed manner had brok­ en down anyway. "I wanted you to know that I'd assent to anything, any sort of terms you wanted to make that didn't Involve--this. If iVs the stage, all right. -Or if you'd <^>nie to the babies. I wouldn't ask anything for myself. You could be as Independ­ ent of me as you are here. . . ." He'd have gone on elaborating this program further, but that the look of blank incredulity in her face stopped him. "I say things wrong," he concluded with a sudden humility that quenched the spark of ' anger In her eyes. "I was a fool to quote Harriet, and I haven't done much better in speaking for myself. I can't make yon see. ° ̂ • • ( ' "Oh, I can see plainly enough, Roddy," she said with a tired little grimace that was a sorry reminder of her old smile. "I guess I see too well. I'm sorry to have hurt you and made you miserable. I knew I was going to do that, of course, when I went away, but I hoped that, after a while, you'd come to see my side of it. You can't at all. You couldn't believe that I was happy, that I thought I was doing something worth doing; something that was making me mote nearly u person you could respect and be friends with. "So I guess," she concluded after a silence, "that the only thing for you to do is to go home and forget about rhe as well as you can and be as little miserable about me as possible. I'll tell you this, that may make it a little easier; you'fe not to think of me as starving or miserable, or even un­ comfortable for want of money. I'm earning plenty to live on, and I've got over two hundred dollars In the bank." There was a long silence while he sat there twisting the newspaper in his hands, his eyes downcast, his face dull with the look of defeat that had settled over it. in the security of hts averted gaze, she took a long look at him. Then, with a wrench, she looked away. "You will let me go now, won't you?" she asked. "This is--hard for us both, and it isn't getting us any­ where. And--and Tve got to ask you not to come back. Because It's impos­ sible, I guess, for you to see the thing my way. You've done your best to, I, can see that." He got up out of his chair, heavily, put on his raincoat, and stood, for a moment, crumpling his soft hat In his hands, looking down at her. She hadn't risen. She'd gone limp all at once, and was leaning over the table* "Good-by," he said at last. "Good-br, Roddy." She watched him walking out Into the rain. He'd left his newspaper. She took It, gripped it in both hands, just as he'd done; then, with an effort, got up and mount* ed the stairs to her room. (TO BE CONTINUED.) TRAINING SCHOOL FOR WIVES Unfortunately, However, This Club Has Produced No Weddings in Five Years' Life. To fit themselves to be wives for men whom they have not yet found, the members of the Josephine club are preparing to take courses In self- control, in .first aid to the injured, ill literature and gymnastic work. The organization Is composed of a large number of girls, all of a mar­ riageable age, who are in the business world. Every member is unmarried with the exception of Mrs. Josephine Cohn, the founder and presiding offi­ cer of the Hub. The club is five years old, and dur ing the period there have been no marriages of its members. The aims of the club are formally expressed thus: "The social, moral and physl cal advancement Is to be accom­ plished by means of gymnasium work' to be undertaken, shortly. First-aid work is already being taught by Dr Amelia A. Dranga. The self-control is being Inculcated into the mem­ bers, when necessary, In devious waya "We do not want to tyke a courss in courting until we have made our* selves efficiently acceptable to a hus­ band," one member explained. Shs added that If "one of the girls" get* married she will not be put out Of ths club.--Pittsburgh Dispatch. Avoid Confusion. Work will be saved by ketylng thiBA In ordtf* as " ' HORSE NOT YET ABANDONED No Tractor Has Yet Proved JJfSflf Equal to Animals In'Handling jtr • Light Batteries in Action. 1 ^ ; • According to a statement by the War department, the forecast frequent­ ly ventured, that horses are to be dis­ placed by tractors in our light field ar­ tillery is not yet justified. Experi­ ments now being made with motor­ ized batteries are -apparently proving successful only with heavier types. The motorized light battery would be Ideal, of course.^ays the Providence Journal. Good horses are scarce, their upkeep is costly, they can be worked only a limited number of hours on a stretch, their care requires the serv­ ices of soldiers who could be valuably employed otherwise, and the animal casualties in war appeal to human sympathy as' well as occasioning a heavy burden of expense. For the horse or the mule in the transport Service the motor Is readily substituted. But it appears that no» machine has yet proved Itself equal to animal power for bringing a Ught battery into action, or "saving the guns," under conditions that, often exist. In a parade over a highway the motor would serve, but for pulling power in mud, for a dash over a rough field, a plunge to the selected firing po­ sition, or quick Unllmbering for action* which may be a maneuver of seconds, no tractor yet invented approaches the mobility of the trained battery horse. And mobility is the life of th*r light battery. HAS MIS GARDEN IN BARREL Los Angeiea Man, With Small Back­ yard, Conceives Idea for a Unique Strawberry Patch.. A. Los Angeles man whose backyard was too small for growing strawber­ ries, conceived a clever Idea, which is described In Popular Mechanics. He made a strawberry patch out of a barrel. Holes about 12 inches apart were bored in rows In its sides. Sev-* eral tin cans with perforated bottoms were piled one on the other in the cen­ ter of the barrel and enough dirt was thrown aboqt them to fill the recepta­ cle up to the first row of holes. After the dirt had settled sufficient­ ly strawberry vines were planted In the holes and allowed to hang outside. This process wa£ repeated until the barrel was full ahd vines had been set in all the holes and on the top. As the soli was added, cans were piled up through the center to provide an Irrigation passageway. A hole was bored in the side near the bottom to allow water to drain'off. Using Old Tin Cans. We used to have some thrifty for­ eign neighbors who always used their tin cans several times over, says the Syracuse Post-Standard. In opening a No. 3 tomato or other can, place the can bottom upward and lay a big, very hot coal on the central circle or cap. In a minute, remove the coal, when the tin cap is easily lifted. Re­ move the contents of the can immedi­ ately, wash, dry thoroughly and store in a dry place, saving the llttlp circu­ lar tin centers for use again. When It is wished to use the can again in preserving tomatoes, berries or other foods, proceed as with a new tin can. If one is at all handy with the solder­ ing iron the can is resoldered with no trouble at all. Never put tomato or acid fruits In any but tomato or berry cans, as such have been specially treated to withstand the action of the acids. Corn, peas, beans, etc., can be put In used tin cans in which such vegetables came, if they were opened properly. Try your hand first at open­ ing and resolderlng any old tin can. The Work is very easily done. ^ War Reduces Insanity. War. at a palliative of insanity Is a theory unfamiliar to most people, but we have no reason to doubt the conclu­ sions of Doctor Oswald of the Glasgow Lunatic asylum on the matter, says the Lfndon Globe. One phase of the sub­ ject is instructive and significant. This is "the removal of the powerful effect of poverty on the mind and Its replace­ ment by the higher standards of living andP remunerative employment." Pov­ erty and unemployment are thus by medical testimony more fertile causes of Insanity than war. That is a lesson to be borne in mind when the over. Danger of Sleeves and Ties. Although time and again workmen have been warned regarding the'dan­ ger of loose clothing when working around machinery, It' appears that many of them persist in ignoring the danger. As a result 986 workmen were killed in the United States by being drawn into the wheels of machinery or thrown to death when parts of their clothing became caught In rotating members. Loose sleeves'and neckties are prolific sources of danger, and should not be tolerated for a single moment by the careful worker.--Sci­ entific American. Not Much to Ask. The landlady bustled up to her new lodger as he came down to breakfast the first morning. "Good morning, sir," she wheezed. "Good morning," said the lodger. "I hope you've had a good, night's rest," said the landlady. "No," said the mild-mannered ltttH man. "Your cat kept me awake." "Oh," said the landlady, tossing hei head, "I suppose you're going to ask me to have the poor thing killed," "N-no, not exactly." said the gentle lodger. "But would ]Pou very muct mind having it tuned?" ^ » Possibly. "What are all these American am­ bulance drivers going to do after th# war?" ,4Oh, I wouldn't be surprised to se* some of them stay over there and pusb perambulators." „ ^ ̂ Par Contra. "Admiral Peary says that the mair fighting now will be all up in th« air." That ought to bring some of th< amateur war theorists out of th« • . ^ ^ ~ * Cultivate isr the Sokttar at tlka •.' -Fronti This question of conservation df food has become so agitated by tho«e who have a knowledge of what if means in the preservation of life, who have made a study of the food condi­ tions, and the requirements of the country, that it is beginning to arouse the entire nation. The economist whose duty it is to study the output and compare it with the consumption, sees a rapidly creeping up of one on the other, and, when the appetite of consumption gets a headway on the output, where will the nation be? It is time the people Were aroused, for there is danger ahead unless the in­ telligence of the people is awakened to the facts. The crop of 1917 will be less than an average one, and see the work it has to perform. It has to feed the man producing it, and he fs Of less efficiency today than a year ago. His strength has been reduced by the drawing away of the thousands from the farms, who are now in the ranks of the consumer instead of in that of the producer. There is an Inverse ratio here that can only be under­ stood when confronted with the ap­ palling figures presented by those in charge of the conservation work. The army has to be fed, dependents cared for, the navy has to have provisions, and we cannot sit idly by and see the women and children of the countries across the sea starve. There is such a great call for active participation 4n the matter of providing food, that those who are left at home in charge of this wofk have a responsibility placed upon them fully as great as has the man at the front who has gone out to protect the homes, the sanctity and the honor of those who are left behind. The producer should think only of this; there should be economy, not only of labor. Every acre ol. avail­ able land should be producing. Ad­ vantage should be taken of every day­ light hour. It must not be a case of how much can we make. It must be a case of "fight" with those who have gone overseas, but in our way, fight to win the war. Where that spirit per­ vades will be found the spirit of the patriotic American. There is no diffi­ culty in securing land in any of the states. It may be rented on easy terms or purchased at low prices, and there should be little difficulty arranging with bankers to get the necessary funds to carry on operations. Should you not be able to get what you want in your own state, Western Canada offers an Immense wide field for oper­ ations at the lowest possible cost, and Americans are welcomed with open arms. Homesteads of 160 acres each may be had on easy conditions, and other lands may be purchased at low prices on easy terms. The yields of all kinds of small grains are heavy. The prospects for a 1917 crop are ex­ cellent, and it looks today as if there would be as good a return as at any time in the past, and when It is real­ ized that there have been yields of forty and forty-five bushels of wheat over large areas this should be en­ couraging. Now that the two coun­ tries are allies and the cause Is a com­ mon one there should be no hesitation In accepting whatever offer seems to be the best in order to increase the production so necessary, and which should it not be met, will prove a se^ rious menace. Particulars as to Cana* dian lands, whether for purchase or homestead, may be had on application to any Canadian Government Agent-- Advertisement. »- --J '• Local Color in Monkey Game. Harlan's mother frequently plajfsd games with her while doing the morn­ ing's tasks, thus amusing the little one, without Interrupting her own work. One morning after a visit to the zoo, Marian asked to play "monkey/' and her mother laughingly answered. "Ail right, I'll be the monkey while I dust. Now what shall I do?" •iOh, no, I'll be the monkey," told Marian, "and you has to go buy pea­ nuts to feed me first." FOR ITCHING, BURNING SKINS Baths With Cuticura Soap and Apply ths Ointment--Trial Free. For eczemas, rashes, itchlngs, lrrita* Hons, pimples, dandruff, sore hands, and baby humors, Cuticura Soap and Ointment are supremely effective. Be­ sides they tend to prevent these dis­ tressing conditions, if used for every­ day toilet and nursery preparations. "~Free sample each by mall with Rook. Address postcard. Cuticura. Dept. 1% Boston: gold everywhere.--Adv. Using Cast-Off Gloves. ' A use for all sorts of cast-off gloves has been found In London In connec­ tion with relief work In England. The did leather, after proper sterilization, is appled on heavy cambric or buck­ ram and made into sleeveless wind- proof jackets, which are much in de­ mand for men both in the trendies and the navy. ; „... . ' Important to •dotheirtif Examine carefully every bottle of CASTORIA, that famous old remedy, for Infants and children, and see that It Bears ths Signature o£ < In Use for Over 30 Years. Children Cry for Fletcher's Cutoiik A Disadvantage. - "Ds you think the "Star-Hpanfiad Banner' is a good song?" "I don't see why It isn't a perfectly good old anthem. You don't always get a favorable Impression of It, owing to the fact that anybody feels free to tackle It. regardless of whether he can sing or not." , Enough tb"Cat Barber--"How do you like our new oatmeal soap?" Victim--"Seems nout- Ishing. but I'vn had my breakfast." ' "SI When Your Eyes Need Cani Try Murine Eye Remedy 3lo Smartin* -- J2fr« Ooafon. to W1 "V..1- W: