GRAILLOT, THE PLAYWRIGHT, WARNS LOUISE THAT
BOTH THE PRINCE OF SEYRE AND JOHN LOVE HER,
AND THAT THE PRINCE WILL BE A DANGEROUS
ENEMY TO HIS RIVAL
Synopsis.—Louise Maurel, famous actress, was making a motor tour
of the English Cumberland district, when her car broke down late one
evening and she was forced to accept the overnight hospitality of Ste
phen and John Strangewey, recluse woman haters living in a splendid
old mansion on a great farm. Before she left next day she had capti
vated John and he had fascinated her. Three months later John, on a
sudden impulse, went to London and looked up Louise. She was de- •
lighted to see him and Introduced him to her friends of the artistic and
dramatic world, among them Sophy, a light-hearted little actress, and
Graillot, a playwright of remarkable mental gifts. The prince of Seyre,
a wealthy French noble, whom he already knew, became his guide, and
he entered the gay bohemian life of the city.
lights were lowered a few min
utes later, and John paid the bill.
“We’ve enjoyed our supper,” Louise
whispered, as they passed down the
room. “The whole evening has been
As they drove from Luigi’s to
Knightsbridge, Louise leaned back in
her corner. Although her eyes were
only half closed, there was an air of
aloofness about her, an obvious lack of
desire for conversation, which the oth
ers found themselves instinctively re
specting. Even Sophy’s light-hearted
chatter seemed to have deserted her,
somewhat to John’s relief.
They were in the very vortex of
London’s midnight traffic. The night
was warm for the time of year, and
about Leicester square and beyond the
pavements were crowded with pedes
trians, the women lightly and gayly
clad, hitting, notwithstanding some sin
ister note about their movements, like
butterflies or bright-hued moths along
the pavements and across the streets.
The procession of taxicabs and auto
mobiles, each with Its human freight
of men and women in evening dress on
their way home after an evening’s
pleasure, seemed endless.
Presently Sophy began to talk, and
Louise, too roused herself.
“I am only just beginning to realize,”
the latter said, “that you are actually
“When I leave you,” he replied, “I,
too, shall find it hard to believe that
we have actually met again and talked.
There seems to be so much that I have
to say,” he added, looking at her close
ly, “and I have said nothing.”
“There is plenty of time,” she told
him, and once more the signs of that
slight nervousness were apparent in
her manner. “There are weeks and
months ahead of us."
“When shall I see you again?” he
“Whenever you like. There are no re
hearsals for a day or two. Ring me up
on the telephone—you will tlnd my
number In the book —or come and lunch
with me tomorrow, if you like.”
“Thank you,” he answered; “that Is
just what I should like. At what time?"
“Half past one. I will not ask either
of you to come in now. You can come
down tomorrow morning and get the
books, Sophy. I think I am tired —
tired,” she added, with a curious little
note of self-pity In her tone. “I am
very glad to have seen you again, Mr.
Strangewey,” she said, lifting her eyes
Vo his. “Good night!”
He helped her out, rang the bell, and
watched her vanish through the swift
ly opened door. Then he stepped back
Into the taxicab. Sophy retreated Into
the corner to make room for him.
“You are going to take me home, are
-jrou not?” she asked.
“Of course," he replied, his eyes still
fixed with a shade of regret upon the
closed door of Louise’s little house.
“No. 10 Southampton street,” he told
They turned round and spun once
more Into the network of moving ve
hicles and streaming pedestrians. John
was silent, and his companion, for a
little while, humored him. Soon, how
ever, she touched him on the arm. A
queer gravity had come Into her dainty
“Are you really in love with Lou
ise?” she inquired, with something of
his own directness.
He answered her with perfect seri
“I believe so,” he admitted, “but I
should not like to say that I am abso
lutely certain. I have come here to
Sophy suddenly rocked with laugh
“You are the dearest, queerest mad
man l have ever met!" she exclaimed,
bolding tightly to his arm. “You sit
there with a face as long as a fiddle,
wondering whether you are In love
with a girl or notl Well, lam not go
ing to ask you anything more. Tell me,
re you tired?"
•’Not a bit,” he declared. “I never
fend such a ripping evening In my life."
Ste held his arm a little tighter. She
was the old Sophy again, full of life
“Let’s go to the Aldwych,” she sug
gested. “and see the dancing. We can
Just have something to drink. We
needn't have any more supper.”
The cab stopped a few minutes later
outside what seemed to be a private
bouse. The door was opened at once,
fiophy wrote John’s name in a book,
And they were ushered by the manager,
who had come forward to greet them,
Into n long ron. brilliantly lit, and
Ailed, OKcepi tn the center, with sup
per tables. John looked around him
wonderlugly. The popping of cham
pagne corks was almost incessant. A
slightly voluptuous atmosphere of
cigarette smoke, mingled with the per
fumes shaken from the clothes and
hair of the women, several more of
whom were now dancing, hung about
the place. A girl in fancy dress was
passing a great basket of flowers from
table to table.
Sophy sat with her head resting upon
her hands and her face very close to
her companion’s, keeping time with her
feet to the music.
“Isn't this rather nice?” she whis
pered. “Do you like being here with
me, Mr. John Strangewey?”
“Of course I do," he answered heart
ily. “Is this a restaurant?”
She shook her head.
N>, ts a club. We can sit here all
“Can I join?” he asked.
She laughed as she sent for a form
and made him fill it in.
“Tell me,” he.begged, as he looked
around him, “who are these girls? They
look so pretty and well-dressed, and
yet so amazingly young to be out at
this time of night.”
“Mostly actresses,” she replied, “and
musical-comedy girls. I was in musi
cal comedy myself before Louise res
“Did you like it?”
“I liked it all right,” she admitted,
“but I left it because I wasn’t doing
any good. I can dance pretty well, but
I have no voice, so there didn’t seem
to tie any chance of my getting out of
the chorus; and one can’t even pretend
to live on the salary they pay you, un
less one has a part.”
“But these girls who are here to
“They are with their friends, of
course,” she told him. “I suppose, if
It hadn’t been for Louise, I should have
been here, too —with a friend.”
“I should like to see you dance,” he
remarked, in a hurry to change the
“I’ll dance to you some day in your
rooms, if you like,” she promised. “Or
would yon like me to dance here?
There is a man opposite who wants me
to. Would you rather I didn’t? I want
to do just which would please you
“Dance, by all means,” he insisted.
“I should like to watch you.”
She nodded, and a minute or two
later she had joined the small crowd in
the center of the room, clasped in the
arms of a very immaculate young man
who had risen and bowed to her from a
table opposite. John leaned back in
his place and watched her admiringly.
Her feet scarcely touched the ground.
She never once glanced at or spoke to
her partner, but every time she passed
the corner where John was sitting,
she looked at him and smiled.
His eyes grew brighter, and he
smiled back at her. She suddenly re
leased her hold upon her partner and
stretched out her arms to him. Her
body swayed backward a little. She
waved her hands with a gesture in
finitely graceful, subtly alluring. Her
lips were parted with a smile almost of
triumph as she once more rested her
hand upon her partner’s shoulder.
“Who is your escort this evening?”
the latter asked her, speaking almost
for the first time.
“You would not know him,” she re
plied. “He is a Mr. John Strangewey,
and he comes from Cumberland.”
“Just happens that I do know him,”
the young man remarked. “Thought
I’d seen his face somewhere. Used to
be up at the varsity with him. I’ll
speak to him presently."
“I expect he’ll be glad to meet you
again," Sophy remarked. “He doesn’t
know a soul in town.”
The dance was finished. They re
turned together to where John was
sitting, and the young man held out a
“Amerton, you know, of Magdalen,"
he said. "You’re Strangewey, aren’t
“Lord Amerton, of course i” John ex
claimed. “I thought your face was fa
miliar. Why, we played In the rackets
“And won ’enj, thanks to yon,” Amer
ton replied. “Are you up for long?”
“I am not quite sure,” John told him.
“I only arrived last night”
“Look me up some time, If you’ve
nothing better to do,” the young man
“If We Were Alone,” She Whispered,
“I Should Want You to Kiss Mel"
suggested. “Where are you ha. sing
“I am at the Albany. So-long! Must
get back to my little lady."
He bowed to Sophy and departed.
She sank a little breathlessly Into her
chair and laid her hand on John’s arm.
Her cheeks were flushed, her bosom
was rising and falling qnickly.
“I am out of breath," she said, her
head thrown back, perilously near to
John’s shoulder. “Lord Amerton dances
well. Give me some champagne!”
“And you—you dance divinely," be
told her, as he filled her glass.
“If we were alone,” she whispered,
“I should want you to kiss me!”
The stem of the wine glass in John’s
fingers suapped suddenly, and the wine
■ trickled down to the floor. A passing
waiter hurried up with a napkin, and a
fresh glass was brought. The affair
was scarcely noticed, but John re
mained disturbed and a little pale.
“Have you cut your hand?” Sophy
“Not at all,” he assureu her. “How
hot it Is here! Do you mind if we go?”
“Go?” she exclaimed disconsolately.
“I thought you were enjoying yourself
“So I am,” he answered, “but I don't
“Understand what?” she demanded.
“Myself, if you must know.”
She set down the glass which she
had been In the act of raising to her
“How queer you are!” she mur
mured. “Listen. You haven’t got a
wife or anything up in Cumberland,
“You know I haven’t,” he answered.
“You’re not engaged to be married,
you have no ties, you came up here per
fectly free, you haven’t even said any
thing yet—to Louise?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, then —” she began.
Her words were so softly spoken
that they seemed to melt away. She
leaned forward to look in his face.
“Sophy,” he begged, with sudden and
almost passionate earnestness, “be
kind to me, please! lam just a sim
ple, stupid countryman, who feels as
if he had lost his way. I have lived a
solitary sort of life —an unnatural one,
you would say—and I’ve been brought
up with some old-fashioned ideas. I
know they are old-fashioned, but I
can’t throw them overboard all at once.
I have kept away from this sort of
thing. I didn’t think it would ever at
tract me —I suppose because I didn’t
believe It could be made so attractive.
I have suddenly found out —that it
“What are you going to do?” she
“There is only one thing for me to
do,” he answered. “Until I know v.hat
I have come to London to learn, I shall
fight against it.”
“You mean about Louise?”
“I mean about Louise,” he said
Sophy came still closer to him.
“Why are you so foolish?” she mur
mured. “Louise is very wonderful, in
her place, but she is not what you want
in life. Has It never occurred to you,
that you may be too late?”
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“I believe what the world believes,
what some day I think she will admit
to herself —that she cares for the
prince of Seyre.”
“Has she ever told you so?”
“Louise never speaks of these things
to any living soul. I am only telling
you what I think. I am trying to save
you pain—trying for my own sake as
well as yours.”
He paid his bill and stooped to help
her with her cloak. Her heart sank,
her lips quivered a little. It seemed
to lie** that he had passed to a great
“Very soon," Johc said, “I shall ask
Louise to tell me the truth. I think
that I shall ask her, if I can. tomor
John's first caller at the Milan was,
in a way, a surprise to him. He was
sitting smoking an after-breakfast
pipe on the following morning, and
gazing at the telephone directory, when
his bell rang. He opened the door, to
find the prince of Seyre standing out
“I pay you a very early visit, I fear,”
the lattei began.
“Not at all,” John replied, taking the
pipe from his mouth and throwing
open the door. “It is very good of you
to come and see me.”
The prince followed John into the
little sitting room. He was dressed, as
usual, with scrupulous care. His tie
was fastened with a wonderful pearl,
and his fingers were perhaps a trifle
overmanicured. He wore a bunch of
Parma violets in his buttonhole, and he
carried with him a very faint but un
usual perfume, which seemed to John
like the odor of delicate green tea.
It was just these details, and the slow
ness of his speech, which alone ac
centuated his foreign origin.
"It occurred to me,” he said, as he
seated himself in an easy chair, "that
if you are really intending to make this
experiment in town life which Miss
Maurel spoke, I might be of some as
sistance to you. There are certain
matters, quite unimportant in them
selves, concerning which a little ad
vice In the beginning may save you
“Very good of you, I am sure,” John
repeated. “To tell you the truth, I
was Just looking through the telephone
directory to see if I could come across
the name of a tailor I used to have
some things from."
“If it pleases you to place yourself
in my hands,” the prince suggested, “I
will introduce you to my own trades
people. I have made the selection with
some care. I have, fortunately, an
idle morning, and It Is entirely at your
disposal. At half past one I believe
we are both lunching with Miss Mau
John was conscious of a momentary
sense of annoyance. His tete-a-tete
with Louise seemed farther off than
ever. At the prince’s suggestion, how
ever, he fetched his hat and gloves and
entered the former’s antomobile, which
wes waiting below.
They spent the morning in the neigh
borhood of Bond street, and John had
the foundations of a wardrobe more
extensive than any he had ever
dreamed of possessing. At half past
one they were shown into Louise’s
little drawing room. There were three
or four men already present, standing
around their hostess and sipping some
faint yellow cordial from long Vene
Louise came forward to meet them,
and made a little grimace as she re
marked the change in John's appear
“Honestly, I don’t know you. and I
don’t believe I like you at all 1" she ex
claimed. “How dare you transform
yourself into a tailor's dummy in this
“It was done entirely out of respect
for you,’’ John said.
“In fact,” the prince added, ”we con-
siuertsd that we im.il acliieved rather
“I suppose I must look upon your ef
fort as a compliment,” Louise sighed,
“but it seems queer to lose even so
much of you. Shall you take up our
manners and our habits, Mr. Strange
wey, as easily as you wear our
“That I cannot promise,” he replied.
“The brain should adapt itself at
least as readily as the body,” the
M. Graillot, who was one of the three
men pr sent, turned around.
“Who is talking platitudes?” he de
manded. “I write plays, and that is
my monopoly. Ah, it is the prince, I
see! And our young friend who inter
rupted us at rehearsal yesterday.”
Graillot held out his left hand to the
prince and his right to John.
“Mr. Strangewey,” he said, “I con
gratulate you! Any person who has
the good fortune to interest Miss Mau
rel Is to be congratulated. Yet must I
“I Want to See You Alone,” He Said.
“When Can I?"
look at you and feel myself puzzled.
You are not an artist—no? You do
not paint or write?”
John shook his head.
“Mr. Strangewey’s claim to distinc
tion is that he is just an ordinary
man,” Louise observed. “Such a relief,
you know, after all you clever people!”
John sfiook hands with everybody
and sipped the contents of the glass
which had been handed to him. Then
a butler opened the door and an
nounced luncheon. Louise offered her
hand to the prince, who stepped back.
“It shall be the privilege of the
stranger within our gates,” he decided.
Louise turned to John with a little
“Let me show you, then, the way
to my dining room. I ought to apolo
gize for not asking some women to
meet you. I tried two on the tele
phone, but they were engaged.”
“I will restore the balance,” the
prince promised, turning from the con
templation of one of the prints hang
ing In the hall. “I am giving a supper
party tonight for Mr. Strangewey, and
I will promise him a preponderance of
your charming sex.”
“Am I invited?” Louise inquired.
The prince shook his head.
They passed into a small dining
room and here again John noticed that
an absolute simplicity was paramount.
The round table, covered with an ex
quisitely fine cloth, was very simply
laid. There was a little glass of the
finest quality, and a very little silver.
For flowers there was only one bowl, a
brilliant patch of some scarlet exotic,
in the center.
“A supper party to which I am not
invited,” said Louise, as she took her
place at the table and motioned John
to a seat by her side, “fills me with
curiosity. Who are to be your guests,
“Calavera and her sprites,” the
Louise paused for a moment in the
act of helping herself to hors d’oeuvres.
She glanced toward the prince. For a
moment their eyes met. Louise’s lips
were faintly curled. It was almost as
if a challenge had passed between
them. Louise devoted her attention to
“First of all,” she asked, “tell me
how you like my little friend?”
“I think she is charming,” John an
swered without hesitation. “We went
to a supper club last night and stayed
there till about half past three.”
“Really,” said Louise, “I am not sure
that I approve of this! A supper club
with Sophy until half past three in
He looked at her quickly.
“You don't mind?”
“My dear man, why should I mind?”
she returned. “It is exactly what 1
hoped for. You have come up to Lon
don with a purpose. You have an ex
periment to make, an experiment in
“The greater part of my experi
ment,” he pointed out, “needs the help
of only one person, and that person is
She moved a little uneasily in her
chair. It might have been his fancy,
but he imagined that she glanced un
der her eyelids toward the prince of
Seyre. The prince, however, had
turned almost ostentatiously away
from her. He was ’eaning across the
table, talking to Faraday.
“You have not lost your gift of
plain speech,” she observed. "So de
lightful in Cumberland and Utopia,
so impracticable herel”
“Then since we can’t find Utopia,
come back to Cumberland,” he sug
A reminiscent smile played for a
moment about her lips.
“I wonder,” she murmured, “whether
I shall ever again see that dear, won
derful old house of yours, and the mist
on the hills, and the stars shining here
and there through it, and the moon
coming up in the distance!”
“AH these things you will see again.”
he assured her confidently. “It Is be
cause I want you to see them again
that I am here.”
“Just now. at this minute. I feel a
longing for them,” she whispered, look
wAIT SA U PILOT
An Unusual Love Story
By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
iug across the table, out of the win
dow, to the softly waving trees.
At the ehjse of the luncheon for a
moment she and John were detached
from the others.
“I want to see you alone,” he said
under his breath. “When can I?”
“I am so busy!” she murmured.
“Next week there are rehearsals nearly
every minute of the day.”
“Tomorrow,” John said insistently.
“You have no rehearsals then. I must
see you. I must talk to you without
It was his moment. Her half
formed resolutions fell away before
the compelling ring in his voice and
the earnest pleading in his eyes.
“I will she promised, “tomor
row at six o’clock.”
After the departure of her guests.
Louise stood before the window ot' her
drawing room, looking down into the
street. She saw the prince courteously
motion John to precede him into his
waiting automobile. She watched un
til the car took its place in the stream
of traffic and disappeared. The sense
of uneasiness which had brought her
to the window was unaccountable, but
it seemed in some way deepened by
their departure together. Then a voice
from just behind siartled her. It was
Graillot, who had returned noiselessly
into the room.
“I returned,” he explained. “An im
pulse brought me back. A thought
came into my mind. I wanted to share
it with you as a proof of the sentiment
W'hipli I feel exists between us. It is
my firm belief that the same thought,
in a different guise, was traveling
through your mind, as you watched the
departure of your guests.”
She motioned him to a place upon the
couch, close to where she had already
“Come,” she invited, “prove to me
that you are a thought reader!”
He sank back in his corner. His
hands, with their short, stubby fingers,
were clasped in front of him. His eyes,
wide open and alert, seemed fixed upon
her with the ingenuous inquisitiveness
of a child.
“To begin, then, I find our friend, the
prince of Seyre, a most interesting, I
might almost say fascinating, study.”
Louise did not reply. After a mo
ment’s pause, he continued.
“Among the whole aristocracy of
France there was no family so loathed
and detested as the seigneurs of Seyre
at the time of the revolution. Those
CIGAR AS OPIUM SUBSTITUTE
Aiding in Redemption of China, Where
Natives Are Now Frequently Seen
Smoking Their Cheroots.
The cigar is doing a large part in
the redemption of China. It is no un
common thing Jo see a native smoking
his cheroot, which promises to enjoy
the favor once bestowed on opium.
The import of cigars into various
Chinese ports has been greatly on the
increase in the last few years, and now
amounts to about $350,000 annually.
Of this trade four-fifths normally Is
through Hongkong. There has been
a marked increase in the quantity of
Dutch-made cigars used In South China
and other portions of the Far
East during the last year or more,
where, for various reasons, Philippine
cigars have been losing In favor.
Previous to the outbreak of the war
In Europe considerable quantities of
cheap cigars were sold in China and
the Far East through German firms In
Hongkong, and a German cigar fac
tory was operated In Hongkong for the
manufacture of cheap cigars for the
Chinese trade and also for export to
Europe. This factory is still operated
under Chinese control.
New Talking "Movies."
Application ' been made for a
patent on a very elaborate device
which would produce a combination of
the cinematograph and the phonograph
to giye us moving pictures wherein the
characters not only move but speak.
The Idea of such pictures is not new,
but the difficulties of synchronizing
have hitherto proved Insurmountable.
By synchronizing is meant the exact
coincidence of the motion picture, pro
jected by one machine, with the speech
supposed to proceed from the char
acters, which is produced by quite an
other. Unless the speech comes at
the right instant, the result is laugh
able rather than impressive. In the
proposed device the actual speech of
the character is transmitted by wire
less telephone to a phonograph whose
complex receiving mechanism is syn
chronized with the movements of the
moving picture camera.
Knows When to Quit.
Handled intelligently, a mule is a
most willing worker; but there are a
few unwritten laws that cannot be
transgressed with impunity. A mule
will seldom make more than two at
tempts to move a load. On the first
strain he will throw his whole force
into the collar, and a mule can pull 50
per cent more in relation to his weight
than a horse. Science is again dumb
at the question whence comes that lat
ent force which neither horse nor ass
possesses. After a short rest the mule
will make a second attempt, but this
is seldom as sustained as the first. If
the load still refuses to move the team
might as well be unhitched. At times
the mules will not even exert enough
force on a third attempt to move an
Cost of Dyes Before the War.
The dyes used on this side of the
water cost the consumers between
thirty and forty millions of dollars in
normal times. This sum, says the
Enginering Magazine, does not meas
ure the total value of the industry, be
cause in addition to the dyes produced
there are many drugs and chemicals
obtained as by-products of the manu
facture which swell the total to prob
ably $50,000,000 annually.
Gladys—Mother. I don’t speak to
Jeanette any more.
Mother —Why. dearie, what is the
matter? And poor little Jeanette has
been ill, too.
Gladys —That's just it. mother. She
went and had Gem an measles.
at the chateau in Orleans and others
who were arrested in Paris, met their
death with singular contempt and calm.
Eugene of Seyre, whose character in
my small way I have studied, Is of
the same breed.”
Louise took up a fan which lay on
the table by her side, and waved it
carelessly in front of her face.
“One does so love,” she murmfired,
“to hear one’s friends discussed in a
“It is because Eugene of Seyre is a
friend of yours that I am talking to
you in this fashion,” Graillot contin
ued. “You have also another friend —
this young man from Cumberland.”
“In him,” Graillot went on, “one per
ceives all the primitive qualities which
go to the making of splendid manhood.
Physically he is almost perfect, for
which alone we owe him a debt of
gratitude. He has, if I judge him
rightly, all the qualities possessed by
men who have been brought up free
from the taint of cities, from the smear
of our spurious overcivilization. He is
chivalro is and unsuspicious. He is
also, unfortunately for him, the enemy
of the prince.”
Louise laid down her fan. She no
longer tried to conceal her agitation.
“Why are you so melodramatic?” she
demanded. “They have scarcely spo
ken. This is, I think, their thirr> meet
“When two friends,” Graillot de
clared, “desire the same woman, then
all of friendship thut there may have
been between them is buried. When
two others, who are so far from being
friends that they possess opposite
qualities, opposite characters, opposite
characteristics, ulso desire the same
“Don’t!” Louise interrupted, with a
sudden little scream. “Don't! You
are talking wildly. You must not say
Graillot leaned forward. He shook
his head very slowly; his heavy hand
rested upon her shoulder.
Do you think that Louise has
been too close a friend to the
prince? And is John Strange
wey, with his old-fashioned ideas
of rectitude, a fool to be letting
himself fall heau over heels in
love with her?
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
HE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND THEM
But He Could Tell Folks at Home
That He Had Seen Exhibits in
Art Museum, Anyway.
He was little and bent and aged and
a queer old felt hat flopped about his
ears. But his eyes were bright and
his chin stuck out at an aggressive
He evidently was on the home
stretch through the Metropolitan Mu
seum of Art. He stood gazing with a
puzzled expression at a Venus de Milo.
Then' he passed on to a piece of tine
art, a pair of sculptured legs which
apparently were speeding through mid
air for no reason at all and with no
body to support. After gazing at these
for some time the little man from Hi
Holler or come such point scratched
his head, then turned and made a bee
line for the outside door, a relieved
expression on his face.
“Well, doggone! I give ’em the once
over, anyhow,” he was heard to mut
ter. “And I can tell that to the folks
at hum !”—New York Herald.
The Man With the Hoe.
In the poem that caught general at
tention a few years ago the man with
the hoe was presented as a stunted ob
ject, a pathetic failure, without re
ward for ceaseless hard work, a crea
ture who never had a chance to know
the joy of living. It was a false note
at the time, but suggested a subject
worthy of thought.
The national secretary of agricul
ture has reviewed the food situation
and he declares: “The farmer who
makes five bushels of grain grow
where three grew before contributes
as much to victory and the future peace
and security of the world as any man
in the trenches.” So runs the argu
ment everywhere In a world crisis in
which energetic, practical action is a
grim necessity. A danger must be
overcome lest it overcome civilization.
The real man with the hoe is now in
evidence. —St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
War's Little Tragedies.
“It’s all right for them to counsel
the stay-at-home woman to sit tight
and economize and thus do her part
to help the nation,” complained a
boardinghouse keeper in Forty-second
street. “But what are you going to do,
I want to know, when you depend for a
living on running a boarding and room
ing house, and live of your best young
men go off to the training camp? And
it does seem os if it was the spunkiest
and most likable that go first! I got
one solemn, long-faced bookkeeper
with me that never did shed a ray of
sunshine round the place, but do you
think he’d go? Not him! It takes the
very best. Oh, dear!”—New York Her*
Smoke Cigars by Electricity.
In tobacco factories and also in many
show-window displays it is found de
sirable to have an electromechanical
device which will smoke cigars in a
similar fashion to that followed by
mankind In general, says the Electrics!
Experimenter. A flexible cord plugged
into the nearest electric-light socket
supplies the miniature motor with
power to drive a multiple-'-ane blower,
his blower creates a back draft, and
thus the perfectos of doubtful vintage
may be smoked rapidly and naturally
The resulting length and character of
the ash are noted by tobacco experts.
To indicate some of the difficult**
that our language presents to foreign
ers. a subscriber sends us this: "
sat on the bough of a tree* and begs
to congh, having some dough in ir
mouth and my feet in a trough. Iw;
not thoroughly tired, though rough 1
used. Wasn’t that tough?"—Youth
‘ 'ompanion >
C. W. CHUBBUCK
Noe. 515-517 Third Btreet.
NATIONAL GERMAN AMERI
P. A. RIEBE |
Paff Block, 216 Third Street.
DR. G. G. ANDERSON
Over Mueller’s Jewelry Btore.
DR. A. H. LEMKE
Office —3l2 South Firet Avettve,
over AI be re’ west side drug
N. RIGHTMAN, D. C.
9to 11:30 A.M. 2to 5 P.M. 6:30 to 8 P.M.
OVER 5 AND 10 CENT STORE
City 'Bus and Baggage Line
Cor. Second and Jefferson Sts.
The Only Transfer Company In the City
Neal Brown L. A. Pradt C. 8. Gilbert
We have the only abstract of Mara
thou county. We have a thoroughly
qualified abstractor, and make ab
stracts at reasonable prices. We are
responsible for all abstracts made by
us and guarantee that they show the
condition of the title properly as it
appears ca record.
An abr tract of title Is useful if you
desire to sell or mortgage your prop
erty, aid is very valuable in ascertain
ing defects In your title that can be
easily remedied, and yet might be suf
ficient to spoil a sale. If you desire
an abstract of the title to your prop
erty, call and see us.
Wausau Law & Land Association
CHAS. H. WEGNER
Largest General Store in Wausau
Groceries, Clothing, Crockery, Hay, Feed,
Flour, Produce, Etc.
A Sleek tf Freak Efn, Batter id ivm Prodite ilvsyi n Hut
If it is worth doing at all,
it’s worth doing well.
First class work at all
times is our motto.
Go After Business
in a business way—the advertising
way. An ad in this paper offers x
the maximum service at the mini
mum cost. It reaches the people
of the town you want to reach.
Try It—lt Pays
THE BEST BARGAIN
Your money can’t buy a better bargain in reading matter than your local
paper. It keeps you posted on the dongs of the community.
will tell you the things you want to know in an entertaining way; will give
you all the news of the community; its every visit wiil prove a pleasure to
you; it gives more than full value for ine price askec for it Subscribe now.
Nf*l Brown L. A. Pradt Frad Oenrlch
BROWN, PRADT & GENRICH
Practise In all court. Loan*. A*-
tracts and Collections. Offices ower
First National Bank.
MtllTZa, BIRD, OKOMESW 8 fUCHKB
ATTORNEYS AT LAW, corner Fourth
and Scott ttreets. In Wisconsin Valley Trust
building. Money to loan In larce or small
amounts. Collections a specialty.
EDGAR & JOHNSON
McCrossen Block, Rooms 1-2-3 Phone 3123
RYAN & SWEET
ATTORNEYS AT LAW
Hri-t Nat’i Bank Bldg. Tel. HiSO
REGNER & RINGLE
AT LAW. Loan, and
Third “treet a ,I * ClaUy - Office SO6
! FRED GENRICH
I Attorney at Law. Office in Firet
National Bank Building.
SMITH & LEICHT
ATTORNEYS AT LAW
512 Third St Phone 17S
Dr. Harriet A. Whitehead
Fourteen Years’ Experience
Twelve Year* In W&uaau
Hour* 9 *. m. to 12; 9tosp. m.
Spencer Bldj., 606 1-2 Third Street
MRS. CLARA BOETTCHER
Night Calls Attended To
620 McClellan St Phone 1557
Dr. D. Sauerhering
Office 402 First Street
First Door North of Public Library
Telephone No. 1684
612 Weston Ave. Wausau, Wis.
C, H. Wegner, Prop.
All kinds of light and heavy dray*
tng, household good* moved, freight
Rates the Lowest and Service Prompt
xml | txt