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YOUNG BLOOD A HORSE SHOW STORY <{iv TOW look here, Johnny, my i\A mind's made up. ir Mr. Arn old' meaning to exhibit at the horse show. It's my business to see him through tomorrow. 'Jerry,' he says to me, 'when 1 raiso a match pair of black carriage horses I'll make the town talk.' Now he's goln' to make the town talk — and I'm goin' to help him, for you'll not deny we're drivin' a. handsome turnout," and Jerry used his whip in a loving flick upon each glossy back. Tho blooded animals, re sponsive to his lightest touch, sprang forward, their proud necks arched and theii 1 ears pointed straight. "There, there, my beauties— so— so," said Jer ry soothingly. "My, but ain't it won derful how the sound of a voice'U quiet 'em! That's breed, John; it tells pretty nigh always in horses and folks. You ain't listenin" to my remarks," and Jerry's nudge roused the footman with a start. : "Qult'thfit;" said John, sharply; "no, I'm not listening. You're talkin 1 rot. If.;you think 1 can take that mettle some pair, that's as skittish as — as thunder, for. a prize drive around the. ring, before ail them griniiln* lackeys and all the swells in town, you've mis taken your man; and with that raw hand, Sims, a-settin' beside me, and me a-thinkin' what a guy he looks, how can you expect mo to manage a team like this?" "I'm afraid, Johnny, you're not quite bright. I never knew how much was iackiu* before this . carriage practice." Jerry looked at him critically, with the old merry twinkle in his eye. "Still, as I keep a-tellin' you, it's young blood must show, up this day. I wouldn't match the blacks with these gray-sid ers"—he passed bis hand, with an un consciously regretful movement, over his closely cropped English mutton chops, and something like a sigh es caped him. "All you've got to do," he added, more briskly, "is to keep a firm rein, look straight at. their earH and talk to 'em gentle. They're fond of pleasant conversation; It's kind of music to 'em, and they keep time." "Humph!" grunted John. "I leave nil that tomfoolery to you. I never had a conversation with horses In my whole life. I say 'git up' and 'whoa.' and if they don't happen to hear them remarks, I pull one way, and then I pull another, and If that don't do, the whip's handy enough." "Don't you never use a whip on them!" said Jerry, flaring up. "Romeo and Juliet's been brought up different, 1 can toll you." John chuckled. "I knew that would get a rise out of you," he said, "but honest. Jerry. I feel kind of done up nnd knock-kneed; my nerves is terri ble." Jerry glanced at him with scorn. "You'd bettor take a 'bracer' beforo you go in tho ring." "You'll bo by, won't you, Jorry, In <ace " "Devil a bit," said Jorry sharply. "I'll wait outside for the master and missus with the old team." To be "by" nnd see another person drive his pets wuHii't consistent with human nature, but John's research In that di rection was somewhat limited. "I've had my day," said Jerry; "I ain't com pluinlu'. I jockeyed It for a while when I was a featherweight. You wouldn't believe It, would you, John?" nnd Jerry slapped his broad chest good naturedly. "Out I wasn't cut out for a jockey; 1 began to got 'chunky,' and when they took to starvin' me to keep mo. thin I guve up the trade; 'Jerry,' nays I to myself, 'you've got to grow like Ood made you," nnd a coachmun's been the size of It ever since." "I: must be grand to be atop of a tacer," said John, forgetting his own troubles In the picture Jerry conjured up. "There's uothln' like It. Of course In drivin' you can get mighty close to a horse nnd his tricks, but they come to you nt the other end of the reins. On his back you get the life of him, you feel him making up his mind, you know when he's goln' to take a spurt, mi/ know when he's goln' to stuck up, nnd once you've won a race — — " Jer ry blinked from sheer excess of emo tion. "Did you ever win?" asked John. "Well, you'd better believe! It ain't the way of the world, John, to be ra kln" up failures. Why, I rode Daisy Hell when she broke the record.' lean feel the quiver of her lean, brown body now. That was a race! AVhen we leached goal folks went wild. It's a wonder the din didn't scare Daisy Hell into a fit, and as for me— l was treated till I couldn't stand straight. That was my last ride. I sobered up won derful afterward and went to prayer meetln' regular. Them was salad days, Johnny; you ain't never had 'em, be cause I took you in hand early and brought you up better. You were nat urally worse than me, though I do say it," said Jerry complacently. "You'll do me proud," he added, "when you get your picture in the paper and the I blue ribbons on Komeo and Juliet." Again John grunted; he could not re spond with proper enthusiasm; ht> felt somehow like a fish out of water. Ho was eminently conservative in his no tions and Jerry, had not preached his principles of caste to dull ears. "I hope," remarked Jerry, as they got closer to .the great humming city, "that Slms'll Hrive the bays in all right tomorrow. The master was willing to trust him, but, between yon and me, Johnny, Sims is better at waitin' on ta ble and pollshln' door knobs." "That's what I say," said John, in dignantly. "The Idea of ptittln' hl-n up be-slde me! Why, little Jerry'd cut a better figure 1" "Oh, I'm not talkin' about aettln* up straight and foldin" his arms. There ain't no brains to that," said d Jerry, with one of his characteristic nudges. "Now pork up. Johnny; we're comin' to town, and I'm goln' through back streets to get those horses to ntabli ,on tho quiet. We'll give 'em a grooming, and we'll find our own shake down at tho club, lad. That'll heartoh you up a bit." The last days of the horse r=ho\v dawned brilliantly. Jerry and John were early astir, for Jerry was deter mined to leave nothing undono. ; Homeo and Juliet wore visited a dozen times and the carriage and accoutrement were overhauled under Jerry's micro scopic eye. He then turned . his atten tion to John, whose spirits ebbed with the Meeting hours; he curried him and harbored him and polished him and brushed him and scolded him, and finally, after an exhausting day, towed him triumphantly to the Garden en trance, an immaculate image of de spair. "Well, good luck to you, lad," and Jerry pushed his charge over the threshold, with a parting slap on the shoulder and an encouraging smile. "I'll go to the Carpenters now for my people and send Sims along to keep you company; he'll be all right and proper when 1 lot him go. don't fear," und Jerry wont awuy with the feeling of having led an Innocent lamb to the sac rifice. At 8 o'clock the carriage of the Ar nolds, with Jerry on the box, stood In front of the great meeting place of fashion. Sims, . after due inspection, was hurried round to the side; there Mr. and Mrs. Arnold and young Win ston got out of the carriage and paused for final instructions to Jerry. Mr. Ar nold looked at his watch. - "Our entry Is booked for lt;30; we'll drive straight out home, Jerry, In this old carrluge, with you and John, and LOS ANGELES HERALD SUNDAY SUPPLEMENT. leave Sims to look after- the prize win ners; you can come In by train tomor row and drive them home." "All right, sir; good luck." Jerry touched bis hat and looked after them longingly as they vanished Into the ra diance beyond; then, gathering up the reins, be moved out of the line and the glare of tho electric lights. He left his box for a moment to ad just some piece, of the harness, and bis hand strayed caressingly over the smooth flanks of the bays. They knew his touch and turned their heads toward him with ii half suppressed whinny. Jerry threw a loving arm around each glossy neck. "It's young blood they want, my beauties." he said softly; "you and me ain't in it, but we're proud all the same, —eh. Sultan; en. Princess! We've raised a family, we have, and they're better than all the blue ribbons." The intelligent creatures rubbed their noses against his coat sleeves, and Jer ry, looking: up, was aware of a strange mist between his eyes and. the steady glow of tho electric, lights. "Don't be a fool," he said, to no one In particular, as be went back. to his box, and .squaring his shoulders, settled down to his long watt. There was no IJohn to talk to, and Jerry's reminiscent 'spirit walked abroad this night. . The , long line .of waiting carriages faded from his view, the hurry and bustle of the city sank luto the music, of the past; the past— with its open country, its green fields, its lusty, hearty youth, Its vigorous manhood,' and all the strength of its riper years. "Young blood, young blood," he re peated more than once, as familiar pounds floated out . to him. An . hour passed; Jprry looked nt his watch— a quarter past nine! The, fate of Komeo and Juliet hung upon the next half hour, i Every thought was now concen trated upon the thoroughbreds. He had no fear for the horses; they were well trained, sensitive animals, but John— for the first time Jerry's courage wavered. Suppose at the last, moment John's nerve forsook him; the blacks would be sure to bolt in the ring. Oh, the disgrace of it! Perhaps he had been foolish nfter all. John had been his choice, but If ho made a mess- of It, what would the master lay .•• Arid \){t* "Miss Ethel," whom he never, fulled— what ■ •'■ 'i.'i'S. "Jerry!", Atull, cloaked figure came hastily forward out of the shadow. It was Mr. Arnold himself. "It can't be done, Jerry. John's got stage fright, and I won't let him go In the ring. He has the grip of a kit. ten, and when he mounted the box the blacks • kicked' like steers, then 'they balked and refused to move. They're getting mad, and foamy and restive. I'm sorry to disappoint John, but there's only one way to win my blue ribbon, and only ten minutes to de cide. Here Sims, take the reins. Come on, Jerry," ■ ".•'• ' Jerry, rose mechanically and stood staring down ' Incredulously ' ! at . 'his innster. "Get j down nt oiice!" ordered '- his muster. "1 tell you there's no. time to lose." . , ,':■'■• '*,' "Hut" began Jerry, At tills moment the. entrunce. door swung • wide and young Winston lushed bureheaded into .the street, Alter him came Mrs. Arnold, the train 0( her gown over her arm, her even ing wrap thrown carelessly about her, her face pale with excitement. Tgyy 'i' t 'r *r V T V '*« *r 'I' 'V *r v t v t *r v ■*' *v -v '*' ' "Not a moment, Jerry," she called, her sweet voice ringing imperiously out Into the night. ■ Jerry started at the sound. All his life. It seemed, he had obeyed that voice without question. The carriage robe, still wrapped about his knees, dropped from him like magic; the reins fell from his hands into Sims' uplifted- ones, and Jerry stepped down. . For .an instant he paused, looking from one to the other of the eager faces about him. Once ■he tried to speak, but young Winston caught his arm and hurried him round to the side. .Half an ■ hour later Jerry emerged, followed by a swarm of friends of the coachman persuasion, who . crowded about him as he made his way to the carriage, holding in his hand a sil ver mounted, blue ribboned whip, the gift of his master when he had driven the blacks triumphant from . the ring. He stood on the curb for a moment, a stalwart figure, topping them all, an swering the rough congratulations as well as he could; then he mounted and took the reins from Sims, who slid into the footman's place. "Oh, come off!" cried a voice In tho darkness, "that's my seat as long — well — as long as Jerry's on the box." Thii aroused a cheer, and John sprang to rpen the door. Tim trrvyd scattered ,is Mr. and Mrs. Arnold and young Win ston, with their own stream of 'enthu siastic, friends, made their way to the carriage amid laughter and. jests and good wishes., 'v, . ■ ..- "Home, Jerry!" cried - the muster, with a glad ring In his voice. "Yes. sir." Jerry touched his hat, John closed the dour and sprang up beside him. the bays pricked up their ears as they felt the firm hand upon the rein, and Jerry turned them home ward. . The night was clear and cold; just a touch of winter In the still nir and tho brilliance of the stars. Voices rose from the depths of the earrlago — Jubi lant, excited voices, young Winston's ringing out above the others. "jerry's tin old trump!" he. declared. "If it hadn't been for" — hero tho voice trailed off. in a subdued murmur. Jerry glanced- nt John, who sat with folded arms apparently absorbed; ho did not break the silence between thorn., for his t\»n kind heart ached a little, oven in his victory. Success. for ••■ John upon this night of nights would ■ have meant more than the mere acclamation of the multitude; It would have, established bis reputation as a practiced vhip; and, besides, would have been the beginning ot a pedlgrc." for tittle Jerry! -Tlio whip would have been a rare trophy for the youngster to inherit. By; Jove! he should, anyway, and Jerry cut the air with It with such force that the horses started forward and John awoke from his "reverie. "What on earth' are you doing, Jerry?", hf> demanded. ' '••'••.' "Thjnklh 1 ," said Jerry laconically. : "Sounds like you were a-foolin' w'lth gunpowdt»r-*-Klon't think so loud." ' '.'Your- thlnkln', don't make so much of a noise— eh, Johnny?" .' . • "Well,. : I guess not," snld John, whose sense of humor had. not strength' ene^l with his years. They drove ; In ellence a few momentslonger. the hoi-Bon tugging at the reins, fresh and eager for exercise. They had lost the last twinkling lights of the city, and the country road stretched clear before them. "I wonder," tiald Jerry ut last, "how Belle Moses much I'd be worth If I had a. dollar for every trip I've made along this line. 1 don't seem to get tired of it, there ain't a stick nor a stone but hasn't its own little tale — my sukes!" "There you go — moonin' nlong." said John contemptuously; "ain't you got nothln" better to do with your time, .Jerry?' "And how many folks I've driver.." pursued Jerry inipe.rtmbably. "Could you count 'em, Johnny?" "Well, that's most too big a sum for me." "And the things that's happened," went on Jerry, growing dangerously re miniscent—"parties, balls, weddin's and christenin's— they all come mighty quick in this family. There was ones we had to race in town for the doctor —you remember how cold it was that night?— it was the only time I had to lny whip on the bays— but we saved Miss Ethel— God bless her!" Jerry'? eyes grew dim. "And there was an other time; that day when— when" "Jerry!" called a boyish voice from the carriage, depths, and young Wln rton opened the door and sprang out. "Tho night Is ho line I'd like to run home across the fields." "I'll wait for you at the turn of tl.e road," answered Jerry, as the slight figure vanished in the darkness. "No need, Jerry," said Mr. Arnold. "He's bound for home by the short cut. You can drivo ahead." "The turn of the road— how we're al ways strlkin' up against it." said Jerry, as' he tightened his reins and the horses quickened their pace. "It conies natural like on tho way home." said John, the literal. Jerry glanced at him scornfully. "It comes into everything. Johnny, take my word for It. There's always a turn of the road some-whores." "Yes." admitted John, "and in thn I there ring in the garden you're always turnln'." Jerry opened his lips to jeer at his underling, hut eloped them again, with only the slit of a smile. John could no more help his limitations than be could help — - "Kit up straight," he commanded, more from force of habit than from necessity. ''We're gettln' on to it now, and we must make the homestretch In the blue ribbon style. See here, lad," he began; after a pause," I was sorry ahout tonight." "Why?" asked John, bending forward and looking him full In the face. "1 don't look- nllln', do I?" Jerry . met the laughing eyes and laughed, too. "I dou't Bee ns you do," he owned. "I never meant to go In that ring," began John, Impressively. "What are you talking about?" said Jerry, incredulously. "Gospel truth. I made, up my mind when we came to town yesterday that even them beauties wouldn't drag rat In— l'd get out of it somehow. It wusn't a mite of trouble to make 'em wur and prance, an'- you bet I done It. Lord! but Mr. Winston pretty near took my head oft. .'Don't, you know what you're dbin'?' he called. 'Yes,' sir,' says I, knowin' well enough. 'You're drivin' 'em wild!" — he jumped round excited then. 'Father, go for Jerry,' says he. 'Hold 'em still, If you can, John, till we ciuin) back.' and off he. bolted, too.. I had got 'em sort of •frisky,' owned John with a chuckle, 'but it only wanned 'em up to do stunts when you CHtne along, and when I seen old Sims shoved off my perch— l didn't car« much wlnil happened. It ain't in na- Imitation Diamonds a Fad ( i /^OUNTKUPEIT diamonds are ( worn much more generally than most people suppose," said & Broadway dealer. "They are adver tised as made out of a variety of ma terials—even to quartz crystal coated with a solution of diamond dust in hydrofluoric acid; a total impossibility, by the way — but there is nothing for the purpose like the Rood old French •paste.' What is it? Why, nothing in the world but ii very line quality of glass, with a largo percentage of load as an Ingredient. "Hut tin; processes employed in mak- Ing this kind of glass must bo conduct: eel with the utmost nicety in order that It may have the requisite bril liancy and hardness, whereas for the best table glassware white quartz sand is employed, for 'paste' this mate rial Is mixed, half and half, With pow dered rock crystal. Then earbonute of soda; calcined borax, saltpetre and rod lend are added in due proportions, and tin; mass is fused by beat in a crucible, being llnully permitted to cool slowly. "Upon the care (al:en in the details of the process depend the density. transparency and, beauty of the 'paste' which, when the stuff is cold, is ready to be cut up Into pieces suitable lor preparation as 'diamonds.' Such prep aration consists of cutting with tho help of a wheel and diamond dust, much In the same way 08 real diamonds ure made ready for the market. The artificial gems thus made— the best of them, that is to say—possess consid erable brilliancy and Ore, so that any person not an expert would be likely to be deceived by them. "Millions of these Imitation diamonds cut in France, where the manufacture of them Is a Kreat Industry, are im ported into this country annually for use in cheap jewelry. The ordinary ones cost twenty-live cents apiece wholesale, and are set In plated pins, rings and brooches ut Providence and AUleboro, It. I. Several big factories In those cities are kept busy at this sort of work, employing hundreds of men and women tho year around. Rhode Island, Indeed, turns out most of the cheap jewelry In the United States. "From the same kind of 'paste' but of a superlative quality, ure made high class counterfeit diamonds, which sometimes pell for $10 or more, apiece. They are cut by skilled diamond cut tern, almost as carefully us real dia monds, Hiid to the casual eye they ure just about as brilliant. So much de pends In this sort of work upon the Hire, Jerry, for me to piny first flddl") y(>t. I'd hfive frit like a frenk In ft dime show," and John wound up breathless from this unusual perora tion. "Johnny, yon'ro n fool!" said Jerry softly, ami his strong rlpar cut face grew very gentle In the darkness. The lights from the old homestead twinkled out <i blithe welcome as they drew ne.^r. The doora were flung wide, Hfld as Jerry turned Into the nvenue there was hearty cheering, led by the high pitched Voice of younft Winston, who hud assembled the entire house hold to j?reet the victor. There ha stood on the top step, waving his hat and shouting boyishly: "Three eheerl for Jerry and John— find the blacks— who can't be beatl Three cheers for Mr. Arnold* prize winners! Three cheers for the whole team! Now, all together— one, two, three!" Kuch on upronr ns floated through the stately treon h;ul never been heard In ninny years. Jerry's fnce Mushed and hIH eyes kindled, for thin was the pralso ho loved most. Hut he said nothing, only his hnnd was firmer on the rein, and his figure rven more erect, as ho drew up before the house. At once tho din grew louder. John sprang; down to optn tlin door and Mr. and Mrs. Ar nold joined In the fun. I'oor Jerry had nowhere to hide his head, for cheers encompassed him round about; up on the steps, down on the curb, and closo to thn carriage wheels, a thin, child ish treble took up tho refrain. Jerry stooped suddenly and caught the .small figure In' his arms. "It's my turn now," he said, "but wait a bit, little Jerry, young blood will tell!" c.irrect utilization of optical princlplea that a perfectly cut 'paste' gem may actually have more fire and beauty; than a poorly cut real diamond. "You may put It down as a. fact that most of the diamonds actresses loso are In reality 'paste.' Sometimes an additional brilliancy Is lent to them by Introducing a little silver In the setting at the back of the 'stone.' The same sort of had glass, I might men tion, is used for making artificial em eralds and rubles, suitable coloring; substance being added to the mixture before fusing. Fakirs, particularly in the west, find an oasy market for such. ■gems,' sometimes selling them actual ly by the carat to contribute an ad ditional suggestion of preciousness to their wares. "Where Iho swift Tdar tlows into tho Nahe, n tributary of the llliine, are located, in a beautiful valley, the towns of Oberateln and Idnr, the inhabitants of which, over sinci: the fourteenth cen tury, have subsisted by cutting the rare and wonderful agates found in the hlllß of that neighborhood; Not only agates but topaz; amethyst, carnelian, jasper, rock crystal and lapis lazuli they cut, the value of the output amounting to more than J1.000.n00 annually. Hut tho most curious part of their business consists In supplying agates for the African Hade, which. In order to sat isfy the exacting taste of the native chiefs, must be carved In peculiar forms. "If you would have evidence of the extent to which artificial gems are worn, particularly 'diamonds,' you have only to take notice of the number of shops which are devoted to the sale of this class of goods. At inter vals, when business is dull, they at tract custom by tremendous cuts In prices. Hut the profit:) on jewelry of, this kind are usually so enormous that BUch reductions ure not ruinous, a con siderable margin of gain being left even when the dealer marks down his goods 300 or 400 per cent." THE AID WE GIVE Wn haven't time to give them alii Whom fate is keeping down; They might go forward unafraid To honor or renown If we could halt hoiiio times to lend A hand or voice a iiope; Tliey can't expect ua to descend To wlicri! they drudging gropo; W« cunnot help them bear their wot* Or lift them when they full- We k<T|> no busy helping tliuHu — Chicago Record-Herald.