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* • » • ' ! ;ir lOOtn Anniversary 0-= We extend to you our >« most hearty congratulations 1 for your record of continuous publication during the past ‘ hundred years. 0== The owners of the Watch man should indeed feel proud of the enviable record, the old est newspaper in North Caro lina; therefore we extend our sincere good wishes for the continued success of their newspaper. =0= utilities Company And lie Service Company ! 1900 - f- • __ FIFTH INSTALLMENT Harriet had left with a man, her father or brother. Simmons did not know. They walked dow* toward Park Avenue, and beyond, to the riv er, and the Cavalier. Tom Breen was glad to get her at any price. As Gilbert left home his father gripped him by the hand. "Well, Gil bert, you are a Van Horn, not a Hal lett, thank God. The girl may show up again. I suppose she knows how to take care of herself.” The words, then as now, held a familiar ring. "But, let this be a lesson to you.” At the club, Brevoort, in the utmost confidence, pouring out a liberal high ball of Sherwood, tossed it off and told the whole story to Marvin Kelly, gentleman who mingled politics with law. "I recall the girl, Marvin, a hand some wench, a figure, if you follow me, and a way with her. Think of leaving my boy closeted with that.” 'He's a Van Horn, all right. Well, here’s luck to ’em both.” "How!” and the men tossed off their drink. The affair never got outside of the Van Horn home. Servants in those days, were loyal; it was still in a time when servants talked, but not for pub lication. * * * Gilbert Van Horn, in the fall of 1900, sat in the window of his Fifth Avenue club. Marvin Kelly, Judge of the State Supreme Court, man about town, gray, genial, came in as the long af ternoon shaded into night. "Gilbert, old boy,” Marvin Kelly drew off his gloves and tossed his cane and hat on a vacant chair. "I’m hav ing a bit of fun tonight, on the Bow ery, down at McManus’ place. What I vftn /Ininp? "Having a whiskey sour; what else?” "All right. Dine with me at Mar tin’s, and then for the mixed-ale scrappers. Malone has a string of ter riers, he’s trying out a couple of heavies.” "All right, Judge- Ah, Jose phine. I want to tell you about her. "Yes.” "Well, you know, I’m rather lucky about that. Getting to feel like a fam ily man, home, you know, laughter, and a bit of responsibility. She’s en tered at the Misses Filters. Sort of has the crowd guessing. Gad, I met her the other day, out walking with a class. Really, I felt as if I was re sponsible for the whole lot of them. A female gave me a cold stare when I bowed to my ward.” "Gilbert, all you need is a hint, and you’ll be a family man yet.” "I’m thinking seriously of getting an automobile.” They talked idly. "Looked at a Panhard the other day, just brought over. The foreign mak ers are years ahead of us in that. "It’s a dangerous thing.” Judge Kel ly had ordered his drink and was con sidering it. "Joseph Muldoon, a child of seven, was' killed on 51st Street last April by one of the new vehicles. There’ll be dozens killed every year before we knoy it. Don t take any chances, Gilbert.” "Depend on me being careful Judge—here’s looking at you!” For a while they continued to look out on Fifth Avenue. "Come, Gilbert, let’s walk up tc Martin’s.” "I feel like a good scrap tonight. Van Horn stood and flexed his arms. "Wouldn’t mind mixing in it myself. Judge, you’re a life saver. The two friends strolled up the avenue in the dusk. * * * For a block or so each way, group of loiterers and the curious, talked, of the fights. The crowd gradually thickened before the doors of the club. Now and then some notable would appear; the McManus came; then fol lowed the district chief of an adjoin ing principality in the close feudal system of Tammany; or some sport ing celebrity would dash up in a cab. It was more the attraction of the club than any special fame of the contend ers that drew these men. Puge Ma lone, the trainer, generally put up a show. Boys and men looked on, with the perpetual interest of expectation. Gilbert Van Horn and Judge Kelly, wearing silk opera h|ts, and with rak ish cloaks over their evening dress, stepped from a red wheeled hansom They had dressed the part, a bit of convention in the old city, for the Bowery, and the bums, expected it of the quality. As they alighted Sol Bernfeld, hold ing John by the arm-, passed the door of the club and entered the fighter’s - dressing room. It was crowded and a maze of talk and smoke greeted John had learned that he need only fight one opponent at a time, and he knew that leather gloves were far less dam aging than brass knuckles. His point of view was typical of his experience. Generally he got five dollars for a fight, not .an inconsiderable amount, and here he might earn fifteen. “But you got to win. Remember it, John, you got to win to cop the big money.” John and Sol were being pushed along a narrow aisle to the ringside as Gilbert and the Judge took their seats, chatting with the Mc Manus. Blue smoke lifted in the air, drifting in flat veils like unsteady sau cers of mist. A hum of talk rose be tween the scraps. It was a male audi ence; it was a time of hard heroic fighting. A hush fell over the hall as the announcer appeared. John had climbed into the ring, and a mr.lion fierce little eyes, terribly close togeth er, in pairs, seemed to be boring at him from all sides of an endless void. Immediately about him, under streaming light, was stark reality. "The next bout, gentlemen, an’ I hope it-will be a bout,”—there was a slight pause filled with boos and jeers —"is between”—and the stout man under the floodlight in the center of the ring brought a piece of paper clos er to his eyes—"is between Rasper Jorgan,” he waved his hand toward a corner of the squared circle—a dark-skinned muscular youth rose to the introduction, grinning at the crowd, "known as the 'Polack Won der,’ and”—his other hand pointed ac cusingly at John Breen—"and Fight •no- T invi The fighters had their bandages ex amined. The gloves were adjusted The stools were pulled from the corn ers. All but the reftree left the ring. The fighters shook hands. The gong sounded. They were off, shuffling above the resined canvas. The cold white light pelted down on them. Their bodies glistened, like animated specimens on some monster operating table. The calls of the crowd roj* more violent than ever. The Polack Wonder was pjjked to win. Cries of "Kill the white-washed kyke! Knock his block off! Bust him up! Mix ’er! Kill him!” interspersed with oaths, greeted the senses of John, reeling backward from a hard blow on the nose. The warm salty blood trickling over his lips, sucking into his mouth, filled him with an ungovernable rage. Dancing before his riarrowed eyes he saw the thing he was after, a cruel fighter who, in those red moments, epitomized the enmity of man. During the first minute of the round, as the fighters, by their ac tions, revealed a lack of science, many of the audience turned their backs to the ring, preferring to discuss mat ters of greater interest while await ing the main event of the evening, a much touted bout between third-rate heavies. But, as the Rasper drew blood, and the fighting kyke showed spunk, the fans, alert on the instant, turned back to the ring. The tiered seats and the gallery bent over, glued to their chairs and benches. The mephitic air, heavy with stale tobacco and foul with the fumes of whiskey breath, vibrat ed under the impact of tight fight ing gloves pummeling human flesh. The Rasper landed again and again, then John, seeing an opening, drove his hard right to the chin ana iaia bare the lower teeth of the Polack. Dark blood oozed from the cut lip in a sluggish stream. A quick left to the jaw, partly blocked by the Rasp er, spattered blood over both fighters; the gong sounded the end of the round. Cheers rose from the ringside, cat calls and boos mingled with the din. The stamping of feet and the dust and smoke that lifted above the crowd attested their approval. They were getting blood and action for their money. Stools were shoved into the ring and the Rasper was rushed to his corn er. A towel tosser, gulping large mouthfuls of water from a bottle, sprayed the contents over the face and body, of his man, while two others massaged his arms and legs, and advis ers from the Greenpoint section whis pered breathless instructions for the continuation of the Rattle. Bets were being laid on their man, and partisan fans shouted encouragement. "Ya got him, Rasp. Kill him in the next! He’s wbite—he is! Plug his wind! Look out for his right! He’s a nut—crack him!” Fighting Lipvitch also had his ad herents. Men yelled and howled as he went to his corner where Manager Sol, and a boy, worked over him in clum sy fashion. Sol Bernfeld had failed to provide his man with proper handlers. John wiped, his nose with a towel and ■ gulped from a bottle of water. Then he sat back on his stool, his arms rest ing on the lower ropes of the ring. He was without the artificial aid for quick recuperation accorded his op ponent. An angry murmur rose ft;om the excited crowd, brought to a. close by the ringing of the gong for the second round. The experienced Rasper ducked and lodged in a waiting game to wind and "ire his opponent. Hoots and howls of rage greeted these unpopular man divers. "The Polack’s stallin’!” some jne shouted and an empty flask whirl id at him, missed, and crashed into she spectators in the opposite ringside seats. A great cheer for John swept through the crowd as his right fist igain smashed against the jaw of the lodging Rasper with the hard sharp :hud of a perfect blow, rocking his nan, for an instant, against the ropes. John responded to the change of sen siment with a burst of speed, landing right and left against the body in }uick succession and jumping clear of t fuurious counter blow. Purple jlotches rose under the impact of his fists. Then, after a running minute, i short hook to the wind ended the round. The Rasper staggered to' his :orner, a look of doubt crossing his jittered face. John fell onto his stool, lis nose again bleeding, a thick trickle jf gore smearing down h:s throat and aver his heaving chest. At a whistle from the trainer two boys from the Samson Club elbowed Sol and his as sistant out of the corner, stripped off their coats and began rubbing and blowing water under direction of Pug Malone. A third man swung a towel alternately from his shoulders, fan ning air into John’s face. They rub bed and kneaded his legs, fof fight ers tire there first. “Play his Wind,” was the advice of Malone, "don’t stop —mind your guard,” and the third round was called with the sudden clanging of the gon£. * * * -• -t , -f V "Some is natural fighters, same as some is swimmers,” Pug Malone was expounding his views in the dressing room of the Samson Sporting Club, after the fight. "They just naturally know how to fight, to put steam into a punch, an’ kick, when it lands. Why dammit, ninety-nine fighters out of a hundred hit like windmills. Now, that kid—Breen’s his name, not Lipshitz, he’s no kyke—chat kid’s a born nat ural fighter.” The Jorgan-Lipvitch fight, ending by a clean knockout in the middle of the sixth round, after a mill filled with fight from start to the count of ten, completely overshadowed the main event, in which the mixed-ale pugilists, "Red Herring” Hennessy and Jeff Keegan, floundered around in clumsy buffeting while the crowd dwindled in disgust. CONTINUED NEXT WEEK Money From Hogs Expected This Fall Farmers who have hogs for sale dur ing the next two months may expect to make some profit on the animals. This applies especially to those who have followed the system of feeding the hogs with surplus corn supple mented by protein feed and minerals. we lully expect tnose men wno have followed our system of convert ing their surplus corn into pork and who have animals ready for sale dur ing the next two months to make some money,” says W. W. Shay, swine ex tension specialist at State College. "Feeding demonstrations now under way show that the animals are re turning from 65 to 70 cents a bushel for the corn they are consuming when sold at the present Richmond prices. There appears to be slight chance of an early decline in price.” Mr. Shay gives as his reason for this, the fact that there was 64,656, 000 less pounds of pork in cold stor age on July 1 than on June 1, one month previous. The amount of such strage was 43,461,000 pounds less than on July 1 one year ago. UNIVERSITY ADOPTS BOA CONSTRICTOR Orono, Me.—A baby boa constri ctor, three and one-half feet in len gth, has been adopted by the zoology department at the University of Maine. A, Bangor (Me.) fr-uk dealer found the reptile on a banana stalk and presented it to Dr. Donnell B. Young head of the department at the uni versity.