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AND WEST TALBOT MUNDY COPYRIGHT-by TALBOT MUNPY THE STORY CHAPTER 1—Captain Carl Norwood has been sent from his native England to the Kadur River district in India, along with his indispensable manservant, Moses O’Leary, soldier of fortune. Norwood’s job is to sur vey the district to determine whether a valu able secret diamond mine belongs to the temple priests or to the ruler, the Mahara jah of Kadur. CHAPTER II—Norwood calls on the Brit ish Residency to pay his initial respects. On his way he catches a glimpse of two women in a palace carriage, one of whom is young and beautiful. The other woman he knows to be the Maharanee of Kadur. O’Leary later tells him that the young woman is an American girl named Lynn Harding, who with her aunt, Mrs. Deborah Harding, is a guest at the palace. So this Prince was a staggerer. He had been absent when the Hard ings arrived, frequently mentioned but not expected to return for sev eral weeks from what uras spoken as a vacation. Aunty had had a good look at him in the full glare of the headlights of the Rolls-Royce. He was a worse shock than the un dignified bruise and the twisted an kle. He resembled one of those young Argentine plutocrats who used to corrupt Paris until the price of beef and wheat reduced them to the level of common mortals. A splendid figure of a man, perfectly tailored. Manners that only money can buy and cynicism support. Beautiful eyes, without a trace of effeminacy and not yet betraying signs of having lived too furious ly. An all-conquering male. Heir to a throne as old as England’s. With astonishing strength he lifted Aunty from the earth and placed her on the soft-springed cushions that made her sigh with physical relief and mental horror. Aunty knew she was up against it. The Prince drove her with skill. He avoided bumps. He damned the guard at the palace front gate with the voice of a cul tured gentleman and a vocabulary that Aunty instinctively knew was scurrilous. At the arched entrance to the guesthouse patio, he lifted her out. He caused servants to come like firemen to a burning house. He sent immediately for his private Bengali doctor, a member of his own household. “Competent, Mrs. Harding, I as sure you. Discreet, I guarantee.” Almost simultaneously with the arrival of the Bengali doctor, who looked devilishly discreet and more afraid of Aunty than if she were the devil’s own widow, the Maha ranee’s carriage drew up, with its horses’ noses snorting on top of the Rolls-Royce. Out got Lynn, too full of excite ment and alarm and fun and sym pathy to remember she should veil her face. She could hear her aunt through the open guesthouse win dow. Lynn came running into the glare of Rundhia’s headlights. “Who are you? What is wrong with Aunty?” “Your aunt has hurt herself. My physician and some women are ex ploring for broken bones. I believe it is nothing serious.” Aunty, it was obvious, thought oth erwise. She wasn’t liking the doc tor. She was calling him a fool, and she could make the word sound like a description of a flunkey caught stealing. The Maharanee had to be cere monially helped out of the carriage. She, too, had heard Aunty’s yells. She was overflowing with eagerness to overwhelm an injured guest with kindness, but she couldn’t run as fast as Lynn. And then Rundhia stood in the way, smiling, careful not to embarrass Lynn with gallan try. “Nothing,” he said in English, to the Maharanee. “A twisted ankle. A bruise. A little badly shaken I believe. My doctor is attending to her. Won’t you introduce me to the goddess?” The Maharanee purred. She un veiled her face. She put her arm around her lamplit protegee: “Lynn darling, this is my nephew Prince Rundhia. He is a bad boy, but I do hope you will like each other. Rundhia, this is Miss Lynn Harding, who is teaching me how Americans do things and I am hav ing such fun pretending she is one of us. I wish she were! Oh, how I wish it.” Presently, when the doctor came out, Rundhia eyed him in the lamp light with a stare that made the Bengali flinch. He did his best to look like a confidential, dignified re tainer, but it didn’t work. Aunty had broken his dignity, and his fear of the Prince had no covering left. He almost stammered: “Nothing broken. Tape—iodine— bandages. She will soon recover.” He made a sudden, nervous effort to regain the feeling of being impor tant and on the inside of events. “Have you heard that Captain Nor wood, of the Royal Engineers, has arrived? He is in camp outside the city.” Rundhia looked startled. The doc tor continued: “He has with him an Eurasian named Moses O’Leary who, they say, already is poking his ugly nose into what is none of his business.” Lynn Harding stood examining the Rolls-Royce. She was quite used to luxury, but even Hollywood owned nothing like that thing. Its gadgets and gold-plated adornments were a sufficiently good excuse for giving Aunty's temper time to cool off. So she lingered, letting the Maharanee W.N.U. SERVICE go alone into the guesthouse. Alone ness, of course, included three serv ants, but a Maharanee is lucky who endures only six eyes to watch what she does, and six ears to hear what she says. Lynn could not hear what Prince Rundhia was saying to the doctor, but he was doing all the talking and she felt fairly sure that he was talking about her. He strode toward her looking as deadly self-assured as Mephistophe les. Lynn fell on guard. “You win,” said Rundhia. “Win what?” “Whatever you came for.” “I came for a good time.” “Uh-uh? Been having it?” “Yes. Your aunt has been con ducting me into Indian mysteries.” “We have none,” said Rundhia. “We are an open book. We are three hundred and fifty million peo ple, every single one of whom car ries his heart on his sleeve. You are the mystery. Have you a heart? Where is it?” Lynn laughed: “Is that any of your business?” “Of course it’s my business.” “Why?” “Because you are the most beauti ful mystery I have ever seen. Ev ery mystery is an invitation to find the right key.” "Oh, are you a detective?” “You bet I am. I’ve detected your cruelty. You intend to keep me guessing. I can’t endure it.” Lynn laughed again: “Should I pity you?” “No. Pity and compassion are the twin curses of India. We’re so compassionate to one another that we hate one another for not being even more miserable than we are, so as to be able to mop up greater floods of useless pity.” “So you’re an iron man?” ‘‘No—nor a jellyfish. I have a leathery disposition, due to talents that have dried from lack of use.” “Oh, are you lazy?” “No. Iron has entered into me. It’s like a spur that dug too deep and keeps on working inward. It irritates abundant energy that has no outlet. Add boredom to that, and what have you?” “It sounds like an explosive mix ture. Aren’t you afraid you may blow up? I believe you’re sorry for yourself.” “Sorrow is not in me,” he retort ed. “I don’t know the emotion.” “Not even when you make mis takes?” “I never make them. A mistake is what a fool does to an opportunity. All that I have lacked until now is a real opportunity.” Mrs. Harding’s voice came through the guesthouse window sharply impatient: “Lynn! Lynn! Where are you?” “All right, Aunty. I’m coming.” Experienced tyranny knows count less ways of compelling submission. Aunty groaned on a sumptuous bed: “No, don’t let me trouble you. Don’t let me be a nuisance. I am sure that the cares of a palace must be more than enough. You must try to forget my existence. Lynn can look after me.” Lynn’s eyes met the Maharanee’s —deep unto deep. The Maharanee looked rather like a New York East side Jewess who has risen through the ruck of immigration to the ranks of affluence and prestige. Full-bos omed, matronly, kind, but aware that the world is full of pitfalls: aw are that the world needs kindness, but can misinterpret and cruelly re sent good intentions. She had the genius, gentleness, iron. She had also a will that no Deborah Harding could bully to obedience. Lynn undid a necklace from the palace heirlooms, and handed it to the Maharanee. She began to re move a bracelet, but the complicat ed fastening prevented. She held out her wrist. “Please. I must get into some clothes that Aunty thinks respecta ble and stay with her.” The mild, plump Maharanee coun tered with surprising firmness: "Darling, we will expect you to dinner. Yes, I will take the jewelry because it must be returned to the Keeper of the Jewels. I will choose two women from my own attend ants who shall take care of Mrs. Harding. She almost flounced out, giving Aunty no time to reply. There was silence until the drum-beat of the horses’ hooves died away along the drive in the direction of the palace. Then Aunty spoke: “This comes of making social con cessions. I never heard of such audacity. Did you hear her speak to me as if I were a servant or a charity patient? Go and take off that immodest costume. It suggests a fancy-dress ball in a bad house.” “Aunty, the doctor has promised to return w’ith something to relieve the pain, so that you will get eome sleep.” “Sleep! While you are doing w’hat in the palace? Do you think I am deaf, blind? Do you think I have forgotten your flirting on board ship and in hotels until I blushed for you? I heard you, through the win dow, talking to Prince Rundhia.” “Aunty, I think I hate you. It makes me feel mean and ungrate ful. I w’ould so much rather love you.” “1 U&Yfi. Iff! off hoping^ to be loved,” said Aunty. “I demand your respect. That may teach you to respect yourself and so merit the respect of your equals. Love? Gratitude? Illusions! I have learned that. I shall feel well recompensed if I can only guide you through the age of indiscretion until the time w’hen your breeding asserts itself and you can be trusted to take a proper place in the world.” Lynn went and changed into black silk Chinese pajamas. They would remind Aunty of that fancy-dress ball on board ship, when the penni less son of a Tirhoot planter had made the pace so hot that Aunty nearly had fits. Lynn stared at her own reflection in the mirror, not quite liking it. She smiled at her self, just to see w’hat the smile would look like. The Maharanee returned from the palace, excited, fawned on by four women. Tw’o meek men-servants followed her with baskets of provi sions. Lynn ran to greet her. The Maharanee almost squealed at the sight of Lynn in black pajamas with her golden hair massed in becom ing contrast. “Wonderful! But no, that won’t do! Yes it will, yes it will! I forget. I am so excited, I forget! We are to have an informal supper party at the palace, instead of dinner—truly, truly unconventional modem a picnic!” “Oh, my God!” said Aunty. But the Maharanee could be as deaf as Fate when it pleased her to be. She continued, almost breath less: “His Highness my husband” (she always spoke of the Maharajah as His Highness my husband) “has heard that Captain Norwood is in V V A “Wonderful! But no, that won’t do!” Kadur. Captain Norwood is a Royal Engineer. He is said to be a man of great attainments. His Highness my husband is very eager to be pleasant to him.” “Engineer?” said Aunty. “Yes, he is to make a survey of the Kadur River. It would not be etiquette to notice him until after he makes his formal call, which he should do tomorrow. However, I persuaded His Highness my hus band, who is a very conventional man, but now and then he listens to me.” She turned to Aunty: “We are so, so sorry, Mrs. Harding, that you can’t be with us.” “I will spare you that regret,” she answered. “I will be there. You have a rickshaw? Your women can help me to dress, I don’t doubt. Lynn and I will be leaving as soon as I am fit to travel. A last sup per in your palace will be some thing to remember.” “Oh, how gracious of you,” said the Maharanee. “But are you quite sure—” The Bengali doctor appeared, cau tious, with a bedside confidential air that did not, however, prevent the Maharanee from instinctively veil ing her face. “Mrs. Harding, I have a little pel let for you, just one little pellet, prepared specially.” “Thank you, I don’t take pellets.” The doctor hesitated. The Ma haranee spoke through her veil: “Mrs. Harding is coming to sup per at the palace.” “Oh?” said the doctor. “Well, perhaps she will take the medicine at supper. Shall I send it by a servant? She should take it with a little piece of bread or with a glass of water.” “Thank you, you needn’t trouble,” said Mrs. Harding. “I need no med icine.” “Come, Lynn.” The Maharanee could hardly wait while Lynn looked for a wrap. “So long, Aunty. See you later.” “Does she never consult an astrol oger?” the Maharanee asked. Lynn laughed: “She did once— and only once!” “But you? You believe in them?” “I think the answer is no. I know so little about them—practically nothing. But aren’t they charlatans? I’ve aways been told that they are.” “Oh, many of them are,” the Ma haranee admitted. “There are char latans in all professions. We have a very good court astrologer. I will order him to cast your horoscope. In fact, I have already consulted him about it.” “What fun! But please do keep it secret from Aunty. She w-»uld have conniption fits.” “We love you and we will all do our best to make you happy,” said the Maharanee. “But the astrolo ger says this is a time of great cri sis for us. I believe you are a send ing, as we call it. There are many sendings just now, and they are bad ly mixed. They are contradictory and in opposition to one another. His Highness my husband is so anx ious to make a good impress’on on Captain Norwood. It is so impor tant. Will you help us to make a good impression on him?” “But I might do the wrong thing! I might say the wrong word. I might commit some indiscretion. Am I in on an intrigue?” “Yes, dear, a very serious in trigue.” “Oh, what fun! Is it dangerous?” “The astrologer says that it might become dangerous.” “Maharanee dear, this sounds wonderful! Is it a real dark oriental intrigue?” The Maharanee laughed amiably, after a second’s hesitation and with noticeable effort: “Yes, dear, it is certainly dark. It is secret, and it has to do with a diamond mine, but I hope you won’t mention that to anyone.” “I’m glad you warned me. Of course, I won’t mention it.” CHAPTER rV Captain Carl Norwood’s tent faced the Kadur River. About a mile away, it resembled a moonlit ir regular ribbon of silver streaming from the enormous temple and the temple was a citadel of mystery that loomed against Indian night. There was a stillness that seemed like the womb of music, into which the clatter and voices from the camp kitchen fell naturally and the hoof beats of a cantering horse thudded on dusty earth like calculated drum beats. A shadow that was a horse was reined in with unnecessary vigor. A palace messenger dismounted. Norwood’s servant, careful for his master s dignity, accepted a silver tube with the air of conferring a favor. Norwood opened the tube, after he had made sure that the servant had withdrawn to a sufficient distance. Then he went to the table and wrote, inserted his own letter into the tube and returned it to the messenger, who cantered away. “Tell Moses I want him.” Moses O’Leary came and stood in the door of the tent. “I’ve been invited to the palace for supper.” “I haven’t had time yet, sir, to find out much about what’s doing at the palace.” “Has anyone from the palace been enquiring about me?” “Yes, sir. Prince Rundhia’s serv ant came asking if you’d need to borrow a horse. He knew you didn’t, because we were standing right un der our horses’ noses when he asked the question. Besides, I weren’t the right person to ask. But he slipped me a box o’ the Prince’s cigars and asked a lot about you.” “What did you tell him?” “Me? I told him you’re the mild est man on earth, and how nothing interests you so much as running surveys.” “What did you find out?” “Same as I told you—not much. He had his orders, and he hadn’t had time to forget ’em, and he’s scared o’ the Prince. I got a line on the Prince all right. His brains are made o’ curry powder and red pepper. He’s about as safe to tackle as a she-cobra that has just laid her eggs. He’s what they call a steamer.” “What do you mean?” "Nothing for nothing. Lavish—at cent per cent. He’d give you any body’s money, if he knew what he was getting for it.” “If I should hear of your taking his money, you’ll find yourself in se rious trouble.” “Me?” “Yes. You.” “I’m incorruptible.” “What else did you find out?” “Nothing, excep’ what I’ve al ready told you. There’s a Mrs. Harding and a Miss Harding at the guesthouse. Mrs. Harding has a hurt foot and has been attended by Prince Rundhia’s doctor. Miss Hard ing has already met Rundhia, and they’ve talked.” “What about the doctor?” “He’s no good.” “No good in what way?” “No self-respect. Scared. He lets the Prince brow-beat him—takes a tongue lashing without answering back—lets himself be treated like a dog—no dignity excep’ when the Prince isn’t looking.” “Nothing new about Noor Mah lam?” “No. I reckon they’ll call him off. He was just a try-out, that’s all he was—sort o’ skirmisher to feel out the lay of the land.” “Find out all you can about Prince Rundhia.” “That ought to be easy. I’ll go to the bazaar tonight.” Nothing was ever quite ke it in Kadur’s history. Plumbing, electric light, modern furniture, and even the will to do it can’t make an In dian palace, dusty with tradition, lend itself to what the Maharanee kept insisting was a picnic. She wanted to be so modern and uncon ventional that even Rundhia w’ould approve. Sullenly defied by the out raged head-steward, whose turban almost rose from his hair with hor ror, she dismissed him and took charge. The eventual compromise was something between a bean-feast and a banquet, in the glass-roofed patio, amid a forest of potted palms and canaries in silver cages. There were Chinese lanterns and an utter drunk enness of flowers. The long table was loaded w’ith silver and gold. But there were paper napkins (those were Lynn’s suggestion). The Maharanee summoned the Keeper of the Jewels, selected a cluster of the most famous diamonds from the Kadur collection, and pinned it artfully on Lynn's blac! silk. Lynn looked stunning in em broidered black silk. It s’-- 1 her eyes and her golden hair. Ex citement made her parted lips so kissable that the Maharanee had qualms of conscience. "Darling, my nephew Rundhia is a bad boy! Be careful!” Lynn laughed. The prospect of annoying Aunty was delicious. Aunty would be scandalized by high jinks in a palace. Aunty was one of those people who think that palace life should be like one endless corona tion ceremony in Westminster Ab- keep Rundhia within bounds.** The first arrival was Rundhia, in dinner jacket and turban of cloth of silver, critical of the cocktails he introduced ingredients learned in Europe. He watched Lynn. He made apparently random remarks to discover her system, in case she had one. Miss Harding, you look innocent, gay and very beautiful. But I mis trust you. Your emotions seem to me to be too honest. You will go home and laugh at us all.” “Going home soon,” Lynn an swered. “Aunty didn’t laugh when she said that. She meant it.” “Is that w’hat amuses you?” “No. I’d rather stay here. I love it.” “I wonder what you mean by love it. Do you love us?” “I love the Maharanee. And I love these pussy-footed eastern nights. I’m wild about it all. I can’t bear the thought of going home yet.” Rundhia smiled. The sheep-faced Maharajah en tered, toadied by attendants, who arranged the cushions for him in a chromium-plated armchair at the end of the long room. Too polite to speak any other language than Eng lish in Lynn’s presence, he frowmed sullenly at Rundhia and refused a cocktail: “Your Bengali didn’t bring my tonic.” “Sorry,” said Rundhia. “He was attending to Mrs. Harding. He hasn’t forgotten it.” Then came Norwood. Hot night though it was, he was in full mess uniform, not whites. Shorter than Rundhia but five feet eleven inches is, after all, plenty, if it’s built right and properly carried. Rundhia’s six feet one, and almost perfect fea tures, somehow weren’t so notice able after Norw’ood came into the room. Norwood had red hair and one of those bits of moustaches that draw attention to the line of his lips. His red shell jacket gloved a vigorous torso. There was nothing meek about him nothing arrogant. He was a British gentleman in uni form, as unselfconscious as a visitor at the zoo. He recognized Lynn instantly. His expression changed to let her know he recognized her. But he was im perturbable. Nothing surprised him. The palace chamberlain presented him to the Maharajah and the Ma harlmee. He was gracious to them. The Maharanee introduced him to Lynn. He studied her. He smiled. He said: “How do you do. We have met, I believe. I am very curious. Don’t tell me. It might spoil the fun of finding out. Am I to sit next to you at dinner? I was always lucky.” Then he walked up and shook hands with Rundhia: “Pleased.” “Yes. Nice to meet you.” It suggested the well-oiled motion of machine-guns getting ready. They were enemies, at sight, as charmed to meet each other as match and powder barrel. Lynn knew it in stantly. Then Aunty arrived. After that, there was nothing to do but to listen to Aunty's distant condescensions. She was wonderful. Even Rundhia admired her spunk. Dressed in a formal evening gown on purpose to make Lynn feel ashamed of her self, taped and strapped by the doc tor until she could hardly move, in torture from the twisted ankle, she proposed to dominate that compa ny. She did, until Norwood subdued her. She wasn’t used to being snubbed by mere captains. “What do Engineer officers do?” she demanded. “Nothing,” he said, “except an swer questions. Why? I might lend you a man who can do things AAA The Maharajah was interrupted by the arrival of the Bengali doc tor, followed by a servant with a big blue gob’et on a tray. The Mahara jah swallowed the contents of the goblet in one long draught and Nor wood noticed that he became imme diately more at ease. But Norwood was also watching Rundhia, who left off dancing with Lynn and ac companied the Bengali to the door, talking to him low-voiced. Norwood promptly commandeered Lynn. “If 1 were you,” he said. “I'd stick to champagne. The cocktails taste phoney.” Lynn wasn’t sure she liked him. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she didn’t. “Why were you rude to Aunty?” "She was rude to me,” he an swered. “She iad an accident today, so she isn’t herself.” “Who is? You. for instance? Prin cess? Cinderella on her night out? Or rebel? You know what happens to rebels, don’t you, unless their friends are reliable?” A great gong boomed. It was as ancient as the palace. It was the bronze voice of memory. “Picnic!” exclaimed the Mahara nee. “No formality. Lynn, dear, lead the way. We will all follow.” So the Maharajah came last, to the servants’ horror, and it was Lynn who contrived the seating Kew i o»*rred a flat tire (To be continued) Rockport Miss LaDonna Campbell, a student at Ohio Northern University, is spending a ten-days’ vacation with her parents, Mr. and Mrs. D. C. Campbell. Mrs. Lawrence Begg was hostess to the Hereaux Temps Club in her country home Monday evening. Miss Joan Mayberry attended a party in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Huber near Columbus Grove, Saturday afternoon honoring the eighth birthday anniversary of their daughter Betty Lou. Mrs. Herbert Marshall was in Co lumbus a couple of days last week attending a State Youth Leader’s conference which was attended by youths and adults from every county. The discussion centered around program building and recrea tion. Franklin Mayberry and Mrs. F. C. Marshall celebrated their birthday anniversaries with a dinner in the Marshall home Sunday. Others present to enjoy the day were: Mr. and Mrs. Guy Mayberry and daugh ters Mary Jane, Nancy and Joan, Mr. A. H. Marshall and Mr. F. C. Marshall and son Robert. Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Begg at tended funeral services for Mrs. Mary Rower in Kalida, Sunday afternoon. Mrs. Rower was an aunt of Mr. Begg and a sister of the late John Begg. Mr. and Mrs. W. E. Marshall and Mr. and Mrs. Orlo Marshall motored to Bowling Green Sunday afternoon where the former visited their dau ghter Mary, a student in the Uni versity and the latter spent the afternoon with Judge G. E. Mc 1 Clelland and niece Miss Ruth Sutton. The M. E. Missionary society met in the home of Mrs. Cloyce Kidd Wednesday afternoon and heard the following program: Worship service by Mrs. William Stephens Chapter DAY DAY by Every day in the year your family will find more reading pleasure these splendid offers. Here's a great money-saving opportunity to famous magazines never before offered with our newspaper. selection and subscribe today. 'Collier's (W eekly) McCall's............ True Romances .. Woman's World Household......... •Instead of Collier's send me Look (the picture The High Quality Offer— w ,, ... THIS NEWSPAPER, I YEAR, t™nX ___________ FAMOUS MAGAZINE? 1 Year 1 Year THIS NEWSPAPER, 1 YEAR, AN POPULAR MAGAZINES Inside Detective.................. Woman's World.................. Household........................... True Romances.................... Farm Journal-Farmer's Wife •Instead of Inside Detective send me Pathfinder, 1 or Modern Screen, 1 Year (Check only one)‘lvira Niswender, daughter .nd Mrs. C. F. Niswander of street has been appoint ___ nember of a state committee to VI of Study Book, by Mrs. Gladys Beemer Trends, Mrs. Lucille Beery News Commentator, Mrs. Lena Rock hill Lenten offering service, Mrs. Joe Parker Social hour, Mrs. Osa Ream and Mrs. Malcolm Ewing. The Sophomores of Beaverdam H. S., chaperoned by their advisor, Miss Smith and Mr. and Mrs. F. C. Mar shall had a theater party at the Ohio in Lima last Wednesday even ing seeing, “In Little Old New York.” Mrs. F. C. Marshall and her sister, Miss Madeline Bixel will be hostess to the members and guests of the Profit and Pleasure Club at a meet ing to be held in the Marshall home Saturday afternoon. The closing meeting of the church year of the Presbyterian missionary society will be held Wednesday afternoon, March 13th in the home of Mrs. Guy Mayberry. The pro gram follows: Worship service, Mrs. D. C. Campbell Foreign Study Book discussion, Mrs. C. M. Armen trout Installation of Officers Year Book of Prayer, Mrs. Orlo Marshall. Eugene Basinger has gone to Mountain Lake, Minn., where he is doing some account work for Dr. Harvey Basinger. Mr. and Mrs. Orlo Marshall spent Thursday evening in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Glen Huber. The threshing ring to which Otto Badertscher belongs gathered in their home last Monday evening for a farewell party. Following an evening of games appetizing re freshments were served to about forty-five guests. Those present were: Mr. and Mrs. William Alt haus and family, Mr. and Mrs. F. C. Marshall, Mr. and Mrs. Roy Stewart and son Herbert, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart Berryhill and family, Mr. and Mrs. Glen Huber and family, Mrs. Mary Sylvester, Mrs. Eugene Tschiegg, Mr. and Mrs. Cloyd Myers, Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Amstutz, Mr. and Mrs. E. E. Freet, Mr. and Mrs. Emory Basinger and son, Mr. and Mrs. Sam Haas and Donald Fruchey, Mr. and Mrs. Clifford Stewart, Mr. and Mrs. Laverne Badertscher and Beth Ann, and Mr. and Mrs. Otto Badertscher and daughter Doris Jean. The Badertschers are planning to move to the Mrs. Ben Davidson farm north of Bluffton some time this week. They have made their home here for many years and will be missed by their friends and neighbors whose good wishes go with them to their new location. Shipwrecks Missin? New Zealand has a shipwrecks so ciety and no shipwrecks. It was disclosed by the Shipwrecks Relief society that money is accumulating in the bank for want of disaster. The society obtains its finances from the shipping companies and the har bor boards of this country, all of which make an annual contribution. Year by year the funds grow larger. Now’ they stand at $80,000 and are safely invested. This has resulted in the society now receiving more than it spends. The position is re garded with satisfaction by local governments, it seems. Mayor Ar thur H. Allen of Dunedin has said: “It is gratifying to know this m.mey has been invested in gilt edged se curities.” News Want-ads bring results. SK »r for the “jnt to the jus before being ehm- 1 Year 1 Year I have checked below: High-Quality Offer Naso.................................. St or ILFJX ew these Lima fluffton season, i their meet in '■F n State okllL’koo .cablishes a new puts the local by itself. it competed in the a a”sectional champion .e first year of organized Beaten in Finals in 1929 Bluffton was a crown and the finals before be- .iminated by an inspired Akron Marys crew’. a____ maffton was back in the running (Check only one) n 1931, and dropped out in when McConnelsville ihe Real Value Offer— ne-point decision. last trip to Columbus '’7" ‘h,e Pi?tes B°‘t0 ile. PI COL I*O1¥ a course of instruction in .ic school music, it was announced Gentlemen: I enclose I.... n State ic Committee ,6 first of the week. yu°y new8paper Miss Niswander, instructor in mu ic in the Pandora schools will serve |n the girls’ glee club committee un er the senior high school division tf vocal music. Chairman of the committee is Professor Joseph A. Leader, head of vocational music instruction of Ohio State university. Plans are under way for a course of study in music for junior and senior high schools in Ohio.