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-J - v > , p ' • - " " • p . J , ' • « - " . $ • u > :^, V ••"•-• - • ' ;<V •& <".•'• s'j / '-W' .... c <* •»-••• * '»•"• McHEIOtT FTATfCIjBAIJPtt MeHENUT, ttlfc V - ^ v > * .. » * * "** « A > > » "i* ' / »W-^san**"^' «4li>Ki>»».ii« «» «>>»».• ,*v>-'»**«" *»•»*»<*--« *»+».» A*d«>y. *•> »»>«1i#j >•*• } '»* "fWW v-aff jg, » 1 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT -He will think what he pleases, mj child," broke In her mother; "so do not flatter yourself that he will be affected by your opinion of him. We will not discuss him, if you please. He will go his own way 'and we will go ours. There need be no conflict befeYNOPSTS.-- Kenneth Qw*n •• was five yeare old In th« sprins of 1812 when his father ran away from Kentucky with Rachel Carter, a widow. They took wttn them Mtnda Carter, Rachel's baby daughter. In the fall Kenneth s mother died of a broken heart. His grandparents brought nun up to hate the name of Rachel Carter, "an evil woman." . • • Kenneth, now a young ,a^y<r; seeks lodging for the night at the farm of Phlneas Striker, near Lafayette. Ind. It appears that Kens father has recently died and that he is on his way to1 take possession of extensive lands hap inherited. The Strikers bought their farm of Ken s rather and a mortgage runs to_hi» father's widow--the Rachel Carter. A beautiful nineteen-yearold girl, who says she knew his father well and refuses to give her name, is visiting the Strikers. Ken Is much interested in her. In the morning the girl Is gone. Striker tells Ken sfce was planning to elope with Barry Lapelie and her mother came in the night and took her home. As Ken goes on his way Striker tells him: "That girl was Viola Gwyn an she's your half-sister." ' A handsome, dashing young fellow rides up and introduces himself as Barry Lapelie. Isaac Stain, a farmer, gives Ken a message from Viola to call. At Lafayette Ken finds that the will divides an extensive property between Ken and Rachel Gwyn. Viola Is not mentioned, but ha# decided not to contest. Ken calls at Viola's home and finds Rachel instead of Viola. Rachel tells him that Viola la really Mlnda Carter, though she does not know It, and puts her own and her daughter's future In his hands. Ken say* he does not make war on women. Ken and Viola meet and quarrel. Br GeorgeBarr McCutclieOft Copyright by Dodd. llead * Company. I no. CHAPTER VIII , Mother and Daughter. Rachel Gwyn was seated at the parlor wlnd6w when Viola entered the house. "May I have a word with you, mother?" said the girl, from the door- 'way, after waiting a moment for her mother to take some notice of her presence. She spoke in a very stiff and formal manner, for there had been no at tempt on the part of either to make peace since the trying experiences of early morning. Viola hafl sulked all day, while her mother preserved a atony silence that remained unbroken up to the time she expressed a desire to be alone with Kenneth when he called. Apparently Mrs. Gwyn did not hear •tola's question. The girl advanced a few steps Into the room and stopped again to regard the motionless, unresponsive figure at the window. Mra. GWyn's elbow was on the sill, her chin resting in the hand. Apparently she was deaf to all sound Inside the room. A wave of pity swept over Viola. A!^ in an instant her rancor took flight and In its place came a longing to steal over and throw her arms about those bent shoulders and whisper words of remorse. Desolation hung over that silent, thinking figure. Viola's heart swelled with renewed anger toward Kenneth Gwynne. What had he said or /lone to wound this •tony, indomitable mother of hers? The room was cold. The fire had died down; only the huge backlog glowed splotches of red against the The Room Was Cold. The Fire Had Died Down. H$>arred black; In front of It were the y ffaintly smoking ashes of a once 4^-uprightly blaze. She shivered, and (hen, moved by a sudden impulse. Strode softly over and took down from * 'Us peg beside the fireplace the huge jpurkey wing used in blowing the emfcers to life. She was vigorously fanning the backlog when a sound from behind Indicated that her mother had risen from the chair. She smiled aa She glanced over her shoulder. "I met my brother out there in the grove," said she. I thought maybe you and he had been discussing Barry Lapelie and me and what happened -last night, so I started to give him a piece of my mind. He knew all about It, even If he did not get It from you, mother," said the girl, darkly. "Phln Striker told him everything." i, "Everybody In town will know about It before the week is out," said the "• mother, a touch of bitterness In her voice. "I would have given all I possess If Itf could have been kept from Kenneth Gwynne. Sdlt In an open sore, that's what It is, Viola, emails, oh, how it smarts." Viola, ignorant of the true cause of her mother's pain, snapped Iter fingers disdainfully. "That's how mtich I care for his opinion, one way or the other, wouldn't let him worry me If 1 were you, mother. Let him think what he pleases, lie comes here and the vary first thing he does Is to--?* tween us. What did he say to you out ther^?" "He was abominable! Officious, sarcastic, Insolent--" "In plain words, he gave you a good talking, to," Interrupted Mr*. Gwyn, rather grimly. ' ^ "He said some things I can never forgive." "About you and Barry T* "Well--not so much about and Barry as about the way I-- £>h, you needn't smile, mother. He Isn't going to make any fuss over Birry, He told me in plain words that he did not care whether I married him or not-- or ran away with him, for that matter. And now I have something I want to say to you. We may as well have It out now as any other time. I am going to marry Barry Lapelie," There was a ring of defiance in her voice. Rachel Gwyn looked at her steadily for a moment before responding to this out-and-out challenge. I think It would be only fair of you," she began, levelly, "to tell Mr. Lapelie just what he may expect In case he marries you. Tell him that you will never receive a penny or an Inch of land when I die. I shall cut you off completely. Tell him that. It may make some difference In his calculations." < Viola flared. "You have no right to Insinuate that he wants to marry me for your money or your lands. He wants me for myself--he wants me because he loves me." "I grant you that," said Mrs. Gwyn, nodding her head slowly. "He would be a fool not to want you-- now. You are young, and you are very pretty. But after he has been married a few years and you have become an old song to him, he will feel differently about money and lands. I know Mr. Lapelie and his stripe. They run through with love as they run through with money--quickly. And when he has wasted all his love, Barry Lapelie will still want money to waste. Be good enough to make him understand that he will never have a dollar of my money to waste--never, my child, even though his wife were starving to death. I mean it!" Then," cried Viola, hotly, "yon are the most unnatural, cruel mother that ever--" Stop I You will not find me a cruel and Inhuman mother" when yon come creeping back to my door after Barry Lapelie has cast you off. I have nothing more to say." But I have something more to say." cried the girl. "I shall tell him all you have said, and I shall marry him In spite of everything. I am not afraid of starving. I don't «vant a penny of father's money. He did not choose to give it to me; |ie gave half of all he possessed to his son by another woman, he Ignored me,' he cut me off as If I were a--" "Be careful, my child," warned Rachel Gwyn, her eyes narrowing. "I cannot permit you to question his acts or his motives. He did what he thought was best--and we--I mean you aad I---must abide by his decision." ^ "I ai- not questioning your husband's act," said Viola, stubbornly. "I am questioning my father's act." Mrs. Gwyn started. For a second or two her eyes wavered and then fell. One corner of her mouth worked curiously. Then, without a word, she turned away from the girl and left the room. Viola, greatly offended, heard her ascend the stairs and close a door; then her slow, heavy tread on the boards above. Suddenly the girl's anger melted. The tears rushed to her eyes. "Oh, what a beast I was to hurt her like that," she murmured, forgetting the b&rsh, unfeeling words that had aroused her ire, thinking only of the wonder and pain that bad lurked in her mother's eyes. "The only person in all the world who lias ever really loved me--poor, poor old mother." She stared through her tears at the flames, a little pucker of uncertainty clouding her brow. "I am sure Barry never, never can love me as she does, or be as kind and good to me," she mused. "I wonder--I wonder if what she says is true about men." Later on. at supper, she abruptly asked: "Mother, how old Is Kenneth?" RacheJ Gwyn, started out of a profound reverie, gave her daughter a sharp, inquiring look before answering. "I do not know. Twenty-five or six, suppose." "Did you know his mother?" "Yes," after a perceptible pause. "How long after she died were you and father married?" •-- ----- Your father had been awidower nearly two years.* Why doesn't Kenneth spell his name as we do?" Kenneth was brought Bp to spell It in the new-fangled way, I guess," was Rachel Gwyn's reply. "You need not ask me questions about the family, Viola. Your father never spoke of them. He was a strange man. He kept things to himself. I do not recoj lect ever hearing him mention his first wife or hts son or any other member of his family." I should think you would have been a little bit curious. I know fchould." ^ I knew all that was necessary for me to know," said Rachel, somewhat brusquely. "Where did you first meet father?" She regretted the question the instant the words were out of her mouth. The look of pain--almost of pleading--In her mother's eyes caused her to reproach herself. "Forgive me, mother," she cried. "1 did not stop to think. I know it hurts you to talk about him, and I should have--" "Be good enough to remember In the future," said Rachel Gwyn, sternly, her eyes now cold and forbidding. She arose and stalked to the kitchen window, where she stood for a long time looking out Into the gathering darkness. "Clear the table, Hattle," said VWrtn, presently. "We are through." ; Then she walked over to her mother and timidly laid an arm across her shoulder. "I am sorry, mother." she said. To this Mrs. Gwyn did not reply. She merely observed: "We have had very little sleep In the last six and thirty hours. Come to bed, child." CHAPTER IX A Roadside Meeting. Kenneth remained at the tavern for a month. He did not go near the house of his stepmother. He saw her once walking along the main street, and followed her with his eyes until she disappeared into a store. The business of taking over the property, signing the necessary papers, renewing an agreement with the man who farmed his land on the Wea, taking account of all live stock and other chattels, occupied his time for the better part of a fortnight He spent two days and n night at the little farmhouse, listening with ever Increasing satisfaction to the enthusiastic prophecies of the farmer, a stout In-- dividual named Jones whose faith In the new land was surpassed only by his ability to till It. Kenneth found it difficult to think of his father's wife as Rachel Gwyn. To him, she was unalterably Rachel Carter. Time and again he caught himself up barely In {lme to avoid using the unknown name in the presence of others! The possibility that he might some day Inadvertently blurt It out In conversation with Viola caused him a great deal of uneasiness and concern. He realized that he would have to be on his guard all of the time. There seemed to be no immediate prospect of such a calamity, however. Since the memorable encounter In the thicket he had not had an opportunity to speak to the girl. For reasons of her own she purposely avoided him, there could be no doubt about that. A week or so after his return from the farm Kenneth saw her riding off on horseback with two other he had no thrill of triumph. "Ifa-- It's ail right, Viola," he stammered, awkwardly. "Don't think anything more r.bout It We will consider it unsaid." "No, we'll not" said she, looking up. "But I am sorry, Kenneth. Will you try to forget It?" He shook his head. "Never! forgetting the bitter would mean that I would also have to give up the sweet," said he, gallantly. "I must be going now/' she said, biting her lip. "Good-by--Kenny." A faint frown clouded her brow after she had uttered the name. "I must ask mother if she remembers hearing fa* ther speak of you as Kenny." "Say, Viola," came an impatient shout from Barry Lapelie, "are you going to take all day?" , It was plain to be seen that the young man was out of temper. Kenneth could not repress a chuckle. "Better hurry along," he said, grimly, "or he'll take your head off." She rode off in high dudgeon and he was left to curse his 111-tlmed Jest. What a blundering fool he had been! Her first, timid little advance--and he had met It with boorish, clownish witl Dusk was falling wh^n Kenneth rode slowly into the town again. He had reached a decision during that lonely ride. He would not remain In Lafayette. He foresaw misery and unhappiness for himself if he stayed there--for, be It here declared, he was in love with Viola Gwyn. No, worse than that, he was In love with Mlnda Carter, and therein lay all the bitterness that filled his soul. He could, never have her. Even though she cast off the ardent Lapelie, still he could not have her for his own. The bars were up, and if was npw beyond his power to lower them. The Incomprehensible and Incredible had come to pass. He had fallen in love with Viola Gwyn at first sight, that stormy night at Striker's.' The discovery that she was his own halfsister had, of course, deluded hie senses--temporarily, but now he realized that the strange, primitive Instincts of man had not been deceived and would not be denied. His blood had known the truth from the Instant he first laid eyes upon the lovely stranger. Since that first night there had been revelations. First of all, Viola was the flesh and blood of an evil woman, and that woman his mortal foe. Notwithstanding her own Innocence and purity, It was Inconceivable that he should ever think of taking her to himself as wife. Secondly, he was charged with a double secret that must forever stand be* y U :\v •• ^: ':7 S rf• \ v f .*, Sf l", <cL tf ^ -i m»mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm«mmmm« J t ' Hawk sec there's a scheme on foot to get the best of Rachel Gwyn by grabbin' Violy some night an'% rushln' her to a hidln' place down the river where Barry Aggers he jc'n persuade her to marry him an' live happy ever afterward. as the saytn' is. Moll sez It's «il fixed up, 'cept the time fer doln* It. Martin Hawk an* a half dozen fellers from some'eres down the river is to do the job. All she knows Is it's to be In the dark o* the moon, an' that's not fer off. Moll sez she believes Violy knows about the plan an' sort of agrees to--" "I don't believe it Stain," |m>ke In Kenneth. "She would not lend herself to a low-down trick like that" Stain shook his head. "They say she's terrible In love with Barry, an' gosh only knows what a woman'll stoop to In order to git the man she's set her heart on." "Nevertheless, Viola Is not that kind," asserted Kenneth, stubbornly. "See here. Stain, I've been thinking while you were talking. If there Is realty anything In this story, I doubt the wisdom of going to Mrs. Gwyn voung women and a youth named Hayes. She passed within ten feet of fween_fllm n_n.d^.1,. him but did not deign to notice him It although her companions bowed somewhat eargerly. She was a graceful, and accomplished horsewoman. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she cantered down the street, sitting the spirited sorrel mare with all the ease and confidence of a practiced rider. Later on, urged by a spirit of restlessness, •h# ordered Zacharlah to saddle his horse and bring him around to the front of the tavern, where he mounted and set out for a ride up the Wild Cat road. Two or three miles above town he met Hayes and the two young women returning. Tlw» look of consternation that passed among them did not escape him. He smiled a trifle maliciously as he rode on, for now he knew whut had become of the missing member of the party. Half a mile farther on he came upon Viola and Barry Lapelie, riding slowly side by side through the nafrow lane. He drew off to one side to allow them to pass, dotting his beaver ceremoniously. " Lapelle's friendly greeting did not surprise him, for the two had seen a Ifreat deal of each other, and at no time had there been anything In the lover's manner to indicate that Viola had confided to him the story of the meeting In the thicket. But he was profoundly astonished when the girl favored him with a warm, gay smile and cried out a cheery "How do yo.u do, Kenneth 1" "Better turn around and ride back with us, Kenny,'! said Barry, politely but not graciously. I am on my way to the Wild Cat to see a man pn business;" said Kenneth, lamely. "Kenny?" repeated Viola, .puckering her brow. "Where have I heard that name before? I seem to remember-- oh, as If It were a thousand years ago. Do they call you Kenny for short?" "It grew up with me," he replied. "Ever since I can remember, my folks--" He broke off in the middle of the sentence, confronted by a disconcert lng thought. Could It be possible that somewhere in Viola's bruin--or rather In Minda's baby brain--that familiar nume hadj stamped Itself? Why not? If It had neen Impressed upon his own baby brain, why not in a less degree upon hers? He lifted his hat and rode off. Fie had gone not more than twenty rods when be he,ard 9 masculine shout from behind; turning, he discovered that the couple were still standing where he had left them- Lapelie called out: "Your sister wants to have a word with you." She rode swiftly up to where he was waiting. "I Just want to let you know that Intend to tell mother about meeting Barry out here today," she said, un smiling. "I shall not tell her that we had planned It In advance, however. We did plan It, so If you want to run and tell her yourself, you may do so, It will make no--" "Is that all you wanted to say to me, Viola?" he Interrupted. - For a moment she faced him rebeillously, hot words on her lips. Then a surprising change came over her, Her eyes quailed under the justifiable scorn In his. She hung her head. "No," she said, miserably. "I thought it was all, but it Isn't I want to say that I am sorry I said what I did.' He watched the scarlet flood sweep over her cheeks and then as swiftly fade. It was abject surrender, and yet Come Hooflrr Cabin." her mother and the truth about herself, There was but one thing left for him to do--go away. He would wind up his affairs at once and put longing and temptation as far behind him as possible. ' <> Hts wanderings had carried him through dark, winding cowpaths and lanes to within a stone's throw of Jack Trentman's shanty, standing alone like the pariah It was, on the steep bank of the river near the ferry, Back in a clump of sugar trees It seemed to hide, as If shrinking from the accusing eye of every good and honest man. Kenneth had stopped at the edge of the little grove and was gazing fiercely at the two lighted win dows of the "shanty." He was think lug of Burry Lapelie, thinking of the foul luck that seemed almost certain to deliver Viola into his soiled and lawless hands. The fierceness of his gaze was due to the knowledge that Lapelie was now inside Trentman'i notorious shanty and perhaps gambling. This evening, as on two or three earlier occasions, he had been urged by Barry to come down to the shanty and try his luck at poker. He had steadfastly declined these invitations. Trentman's place was known far aud wide us a haven Into which "cleaned out" river gamblers sailed in the hope of recovering ut least enough of tbeir fortunes to enable them to return to more productive fields down the reaches of the big river. Kenneth thought he was alone In the gloom until he was startled by the sound of a man's voice almost .at his elbow. "Evening', Mr. Gwynne." -- Whirl lug, he made out the lank shadow of a man leaning against a tree close by. Good evening," he muttered In some confusion, conscious of a sense of guilt In being caught Jo' the act of spying. "I've been follerln' you fer quite a w^ays," observed the unknown. "Guess, you don't remember me. My name is Stain. Isaac Stain." 1 remember you quite well," saffi Kenneth, stiffly. "May I inquire why you htfve been following me, Mr. Stain?" "Well, I jest didn't know of anybody else I could come to about a certain mutter. It has to do with that feller, Lapelie, up yander in Trentman's place. Fust, I went up to Mrs. Gwyn's house, but it was all dark, an' nobody to home 'cept that dog o* her'n. He knowed me er else he'd have Jumped me. Course, everybody's hperd queer things about him, but this beats anything I've come across yet. Martin Hawk's daughter, Moll, come hoofin' It up to my cabin this morn in' an' told me the derndest story you've ever heerd. She came to me, she sez, on account of me beln' an old friend of Rachel's, an' she claims to be a decent, honest girl in spite of what her dodgasted father Is. Seems that Barry La pel) e an' Violy are coleulatin' on gettl^'^uarrled, an' the old woman objects. Som^ time this past week Violy told Barry she wouldn't marry him anywheres 'cept In her own mother's house. Well, from what Moll ses, Barry has got other Idees about It " 'Pears that Barry ain't wlllln* to take chances on gettln' married Jest that way, an' besides he's sort of got usedW havln' anything he wants without waltln' very long fer it Now, I don't know whuther Vloly's a party to the scheme or not--maybe she is an' maybe she aint But tram what Moll with It, and certainly It. would be a bad plan to speak to Viola. We've got to handle this matter ourselves. I want to catch ^yry Lapelie red-handed. That Is the surest way to convince Viola that he Is an unworthy scoundrel. It Is my duty to protect my--my sister--and I shall find a day to do so, whether she likes It or not. You know, perhaps, that we are not on the friendliest of terms." "Yep, I know," said Stain. "You might as well know that I am on their side, Mr. Gwynne. Whatever the trouble is between you an' them two women, I am for them an' ag'ln you. That's understood, ain't it?" "It Is." replied Kenneth, Impressed *by the hunter's frankness. "But all the more reason why in a case like this you and I should work hand In hand. I am glad you came to me with the Hawk girl's story, tlawk and his crew will find me waiting for them when they come. They will not find their job a simple one." "I guess you'll need a little help, Mr. Gwynne," said Stain dryly. "So make your choice. You an' me will work In cahoqts with each other, or we'll go at It single-hand." "We will work together. Stain." said Kenneth, promptly. "I will be guided by you. Shake hands." The two men shook hands. Then the lawyer in Gwynne spoke. "You should see this Hawk girl again and keep in touch with their plans. We must not let them catch us napping." "She's comin' to see me In a day er so. Mart Hawk went down to Attica today, him an' a feller named Suggs who's been soberln' up at Mart's fer the past few days. The chances are he's gone down there on this very business." You are sure nofhlng is likely to happen tonight?" - Not till the dark o* the 'moon, she sez." * "By the way, why Is die turning against her father like thlsT" "Well. Moll Is after Barry LapeUe-- no question abont that She's an nn* common good-lookin' girl, I mlgbt say, an' I guess Barry ain't blind." "I see," mused Kenneth, reflectively. '"She wants Lapelie for herself. Bat doesn't she realize that if they attempt this outrage her own father stands a pretty good chance of being shot 7" "Lord love ye, that don't worry her none," explained the hunter. "She don't keer much what happens to him. Why, up to this day he licks the daylights out o' her, big as she Is. You c'n hear her yell fer half a mile. That's bow she comes to fee a friend o' mine. I happened to be huntin' down nlgb Mart's place last fall an' heerd he# screamln'--yon could hear the blows landip' on her back, too--go I Jest stepped sort o' spry to'ards his cabin an' ketched him layln* it on with a wilier branch as thick aa your thumb, an' her a screechln' like a wildcat In a trap. Well, what happened inside the next mlnute*made a friend o' he* fer life--an' an enemy o' him. "I should think It would." "When I got kind o* wore out with wollopin' him I up aa' told him If I ever heerd of him lickin' his gal ag'ir Td come down an' take off what little hide there was left on him. He said he'd never lick her agin as long as he lived. So I sez to Moll, ses I, 'If you ever got anything to complain of about this here white-livered weasel, you Jest come straight to me, an' ril' make him sorry he didn't get into h--1 sooner.' Well, sir, after that he never licked her without fust tyin* somethin' over her mouth so'8 she couldn't yell, an* it wasn't till this afternoon "that I found out he'd been at It all along, same as ever, 'cept when Barry Lapelie was there. Seems that Barry stopped him from llckln' her once, an' that made Moll foller blm around like a dog try- In' to lick his hand. No, sir, she won't be heartbroken if scunebody puts a rifle ball between Mart'" eyes an' loses it some'eres back inside his skull. She'd do It herself If she wasn't so doggobed sure somebody else is goin* to do it, sooner or later." "You say there was no one at home up at Mr. Gwyn's?" observed Kenneth, apprehensively. "That's queer. Where do you suppose they are?" "That's what I'm wonderin' about Mrs. Gwyn never goes nowhere, 'cept out on the farm, an' I'm purty sure she didn't-- Some one's follerln' us-- a good ways back. I've got so's I c'n hear an acorn drop forty mile away They drew off Into the shadows at the roadside and waited. A few seconds elapsed and then Kenneth's ears caught the sound of footsteps in the soft dirt road, and presently the subdued murmur of voices. Two vague, almost indistinguishable figures took shape in the darkness down the road and rapidly drew nearer. They passed within ten feet of the two men--black voiceless shadows. "Well, I guess I know now why there wasn't nobody to home yander. That was Violy an' her ma." Kenneth started. "You--you don't mean It!" "Yep. An' if you was to ask me what they air doln* down here by the river I'd tell you. Mrs. Gwyn jest simply took Violy down there to Trentman's shanty an' showed her Barry Lapelie playin' cards. Maybe you didn't hear what they was sayln' when we fust heared 'em talkln'. Well, 1 did. I heared Violy say, plain as day, *1 don't keer what you say, mother, he swore to me he never plays except fer fun.' An' Rachel Gwyn, she sez, 'There ain't no setch thing as playlp' fer fun In that place, so don't talk foolish.' That's all heared 'em say--an' they ain't spoke • word sence." "Come along, Stain," 6aid Kenneth, starting forward. "We must follow along behind, to see that they reach home safely." Fifteen minutes later the two men, standing back among the trees, saw lights appear in the windows of Mrs. Gwyn's house. Then they turned and wended their way toward the public square. They had spoken but few words to each other while engaged in the stealthy enterprise, and then only In whispers. A certain determined enthusiasm had taken the place of Kenneth's previous depression. The excitement of possible conflict the thrill of adventure.. h,ad brought a complete change in hint His romantic Mil was aflame. Chew it after evert/ meal IV sdmolatfl «»aetllc ana •ids ilgcstfoit It makes year ioodloyMMM good. Note bow It relieves that •tutfy lnHng •Iter hearty eating. an ft*, w c e t e a * fcrcatb ' ITsttic sootfjr An Adventurer A good clerk appears to be personally interested In what you want to buy. He appears so, because he to. Each sale is a little adventure for h!m. Waiting for Ton --a NEW Salad Delight With a bottle of New Style Yacht Club Salad Dressing in die house a new salad delight awaits yoiii Yacht Club has been a favorite ior 35 years. It is mild, rich and creamy--always ready-- alway* good. Get a bottle todayfrom your grocer and write lor the Iacht Club Manual of Salads--» really practical book on salad ""tinj--»ent tree. iViVCHT A&ivStyie SALAD DRESSING UJ 314 N. Clark St. Chicago, 111. Hopeleta Extravagant persons are never conscious of their failing unless they suffer from remorse on accouunt of4t.-- Certain Physical Equipment Jud Tunkins says you have to have natural gifts to be a classical dancer, and one of them Is not takln' cold easy.--Washington Evening Star. Mm? "It Is so hard to think of you as a brother." (TO BID CONTINUED.) King Prohibited Use King Award I of England Ordered execution of Man Found Guilty ef Burning Bituminoua Fuel. in 1800 King Edward I of England issued a proclamation making the use of coal as fuel in London a capital offense. One case is on record where an accused was tried, found guilty of burning coal, condemned and promptly executed. Prof. V. S. Babaslnlan, professor of organic chemistry at Lehigh university, who is Just completing extensive research work on coal tar derivatives, recounts several amusing Incidents. The Invisible gaseous products of the combustion of coal were early pronounced detrimental to health and vegetation. Resentment became Intense when* ladles of rank, their fair faces made fairer by liberal applications of powder, underwent a curious change xit complexion whenever they sat near a coal fire. The nature of the smoke and odor from burning coal remained a mystery until after the middle of the Seventeenth century, when an alchemist devised an ingenious process of heating coal in the absence of air. The liquid obtained was known as "oil of coal." and was sold as s most pot cot remedy for many aliments. Then followed the isolation of large quantities of the highly inflammable gas, "spirit of coal." When coal Is distilled te^iTlnlrtnattnf pi H ytaMs an enormous quantity of black sticky by-product, now knqwn as coal tar. In 11345 Mansfield isolated a most important compound, benzene, in this byproduct. In 1856 an eJghteen-year-old Investigator produced the first artificial dye from coal tar. From 1860 to the present day the research chemist has subjected coal tar to the most searching scrutiny known to modern science. His efforts have been rewarded by the discovery of no less than 150 Intermediates from which are produced the most gorgeous colors, the deadliest poisons, the most powerful explosives, solvents, insulators, substitutes for sugar, perfumes, tanning materials, flavoring < tracts, accelerators, photographic developers, antiseptics, antipyretics, 1 algesics, diuretics and pnrgaOvsa-- Kansas City Star. 3,^ofu^e vSe!cl»Yhas THEWORLDS °§A pOWDER l e f t V C t i ' 1 1* ««W MwaY® depend* *50 BEST BV TEST 8orry for Jeremiah. A clergyman wrote a comment 0# the "Lamentations of Jeremiah" and sent it to a bishop for his Judgment upon it. The bishop, after he had read it, sent it back with thia note: ••There Is but one thing I regret about this work--namely, that Jeremiah It not living now to compose a fresh book of lamentations on yonr commentary." --Boston Transcript. People who attend to other people'! business best are those who are pakJ ft** -'•fc? Garfield Tea Was Your Grandmother's Remedy For every stomach and intestinal HL^ * This go6d old-fashioned herb honjft. remedy for constl* patlon, stomach ills and other derangements of the system so prevalent these days is in even greater favor as a family medlcion than in your grandmother's day. W. N. U~ CHICAGO, NO. 14-1924. .