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WOMAN Author of Ghe AMATEUR GMCSMAN. RAFFLES, Etc. ILLUSTRATIONS by O. IRWIN MVERS COPyttICHT Okfr POPP3 -AIgPRfLC. CHAPTER I. A Small World. Cazkfet sat up so suddenly that his head hit the woodwork over the upper berth. 'His own voice still rang in his startled ears. He wondered how much he had said, and how far it could have carried above the throb of the liner’s screws and the mighty pounding of •the water against her plates. And then he remembered how he had been left behind at Naples, and rejoined the Kaiser Fritz at Genoa, only to find that he no longer had a cabin to him self. A sniff assured Cazalet that he was neither alone at the moment nor yet the only one awake; he pulled back the swaying curtain, and there on the settee sat a man with a strong blue chin and the quizzical solemnity of an animated sphinx. It was his cabin companion, an American named Hilton Toye, and Cazalet addressed him with nervous familiarity. "I say! Have I been talking in my sleep r* “Why, yes!” replied Hilton Toye, and broke into a smile that made a human being of him. Cazalet forced a responsive grin. “What did I say?’* he asked, with an amused curiosity at variance with his shaking band und shining forehead. Toye took him in from crown to ■fingertips, with something deep behind his kindly smile. “I judge," said he, “you were dreaming of some drama you’ve been seeing ashore, Mr. Caza let." “Dreaming!" said Cazalet, wiping his face. “It was a nightmare! I must have turned in too soon after dinner. But I should like to know what I said.” “I can tell you word for word. You said. ‘Henry Craven—dead! ’ and then you said, ‘Dead—dead—Henry Cra ven!' as if you’d got to havs it both ways to make sure." “It’s true," said Cazalet, shuddering. “I saw him lying dead, in my dream." Hilton Toye took a gold watch from his waistcoat pocket. "Thirteen min utes to one in the morning,” he said, “and now it’s September eighteenth. Take a note of that, Mr. Cazalet. It may be another case of second sight for your psychical research society.” "I don’t care If it is.” Cazalet was smoking furiously. “Meaning it was no great friend you dreamed was dead?” “No friend at all, dead or alive!” “I’m kind of wondering," said Toye, winding his watch slowly, “if he’s byway of being a friend of mine. I know a Henry Craven over in Eng land. Lives along the river, down Kingston way. in a big bouse.” “Called Uplands?” “Yes, sir! That’s the man. Little world, isn’t it?” The man in the upper berth had to hold on as his curtains swung clear; the man tilted back on the settee, all attention all the time, was more than ever an effective foil to him. With out the kindly smile that went as quickly as It came, Hilton Toye was somber, subtle and demure. Cazalet, on the other hand, was of sanguine complexion and impetuous looks. He was tanned a rich bronze about the middle of the face, but it brok6 off across his foreheud like the coloring of a meerschaum pipe. Both men were in their early prime, and each stood roughly for his race and type: the traveled American who knows the world, and the elemental Britisher who has made some one loose end of It his own. “I thought of my Henry Craven,’’ continued Toye, “as soon as ever you came out with yours. But it seemed a kind of ordinary name. I might have known it was the same if I’d recollect ed the name of his firm. Isn’t it Cra ▼en A Cazalet, the stockbrokers, dowu tn Tokenhouse Yard?” •That’s it,” said Cazalet bitterly. “But there have beeft none of us in It since nty father died ten years ago.” “But you're Henry Craven’s old part ner’s son?” “I’m his only son.” “Then no wonder you dream about Henry Craven,” cried Toye, “and no wonder it wouldn’t break your heart If your dream came true.” "It wouldn’t." said Cazalet through his teeth. “He wasn’t a white man to me or mine—whatever you may have found him." “I had a little place near his one summer. I know only what I heard down there.” “What did you hear?” asked Caza let. “I’ve been a4ay ten years, ever •Ince the crash that ruined everybody but the man at the bottom of the whole thing. It would be a kindness to tell me what you heard.” "Well. I guess you’ve said It your ■elf right now. That man seems to have beggared everybody all around except bimaelf; that’s how I make It out," said Hilton Toye. “He did worse,” said Cazalet through W* teeth “He killed my poor father; he baatshed me to the wilds of An* trmlla; and he sent a better man Maweir to prfsoa for ftmrteee yean!** Toye opened his dark eyes for oece. by ERNEST W. HORNUNG “Is that so? No. I never heard that," said he. “You hear it now. He did all that, indirectly, and I didn’t realize it at the time. I was too young, and the whole thing laid me out too flat; but I know it now, and I’ve known it long enough. It was worse than a crash. It was a scandal. That was what finished us off, all but Henry Craven! There’d been a gigantic swindle —special in vestments recommended by the firm, bogus certificates and all the rest of it. We were all to blame, of course. My poor father ought never to have been a poet. Even I —l was only a young ster in the office, but I ought to have known what was going on. But Henry Craven did know. He was in it up to the neck, though a fellow called Scru ton did the actual job. Scruton got fourteen years—and Craven got our old house on the river." “And feathered it pretty well!’’ said Toye, nodding. “Yes* I did hear that. And I can tell you they don’t think any better of him, in the neighbor hood, for going to live right there. But how did he stop the other man's mouth, and—how do you know?” “Never mind how I know,” said Ca zalet. “Scruton was a friend of mine, though an older man; he was good to me, though he was a wrong ’un himself. He paid for it —paid for two —that I can say! But he was engaged to Ethel Craven at the time, was go ing to be taken Into partnership on their marriage, and you can put two and two together for yourself." “Did she wait for him?’’ “About as long as you’d expect of the breed! She was her father’s daugh ter. I wonder you didn’t some across her and her husband!” “I didn’t see so much of the Craven crowd," replied Hilton Toye. “I wasn’t stuck on them either. Say, Cazalet. I wouldn’t be that old man when Scru ton comes out, would you?” But Cazalet showed that he could hold his tongue when he liked, and his grim look was not so legible as some that had come and gone before. This ope stuck until Toye produced a big flask from his grip, and the talk shift ed to less painful ground. It was the last night in the Bay of Biscay, and Caaalet told how he had been in it a fortnight on his way out by sailing vessel. He even told it with consider able humor, and hit off sundry passen gers of ten years ago as though they had been aboard the German boat that night and Toye drew him out about the bush until the shadows passed for minutes from the red-brick face with the white-brick forehead. ‘‘l remember thinking I would dig for gold.” said Cazalet. "That’s all I kn«w about Australia. But you can l\pve adventures of sorts if you go far enough up-country for ’em; it still pays to know how to use your fists out there. I remember once at a bush shanty they dished up such fruity chops (hat I said I'd fight the cook if “I Say—H,«ve I Been Talking In My Sleep?” they'd Bend him up; and I’m blowed if it wasn't a fellow I'd been at school with and worshiped as no end of a swell at games! Potts his name was, old Venus Potts, the best looking chap In the school among other things; and there he was, cooking carrion at twenty-five bob a week! Instead of fighting we joined forces, got a burr cutting Job on a good station, then a better one over shearing, and after that I wormed my way in as book keeper, and my pal became one of the head overseers. Now we're our own bosses with a share In the show, and the owner comes up only once a year to see how things are looking.” "I hope he had a daughter," said Toye, "and that you're going to marry her. If you haven't yet?” Cazalet laughed, but the shadow h%l returned. "No. 1 left that to my pal.” he said. "He did that all right!” "Then I advise vnn to go and do likewise.” rejoined his new friend with a geniality Impoasible to taka amtoi. "I shouldn’t wonder, now. If there’s some girl yon left behind you.” Cazalet shook his head. "None who would look on herself la that light." he Interrupted, it was all h» vM. THE CHBYINMI KKCORD but once mort Toy* m ngarffag Mm as shrewdly as when fee Bight was younger, and the littleness of the world had not ydt made them confi dant and boon companion. Eight bells actually struck before their great talk ended and Casalet swore that he missed the “watches aft, sir!" of the sailing-vessel ten years before. “Say!" exclaimed Hilton Toye, knit ting his brows over some nebulous rec ollection of his own. “I seem to have heard of you and some of your yarns before. Didn’t you spend nights in a log-hut miles and miles from any hu man being?" It was as they were turning in at last, but the question spoiled a yawn for Cazalet. “Sometimes, at one of our out-sta tions,” said he, looking puzzled. “I’ve seen your photograph," said Toye, regarding him with a more criti cal stare. “But it was with a beard.” “I had it off when I was ashore the other day,” said Cazalet. “I always meant to, before the end of the voy age." “I see. It was a Miss Macnalr showed me that photograph—Miss Blanche Macnair lives in a little house down there near your old home. I “Second Sight 1“ He Ejaculated, as Though It Were the Night Before. judge hers is another old home that’s been broken up since your day.” “They’ve all got married,” Baid Caza let. "Except Miss Blanche. You write to her some, Mr. Cazalet?” “Once a year—regularly. It was a promise. We were kids together,” he explained, as he climbed back into the upper berth. “Guess you were a lucky kid,” said the voice below. “She’s one in a thousand, Miss Blanche Macnair!” CHAPTER 11. Second Sight. Southampton Water was an orna mental lake dotted with fairy lamps. It was a midsummer night, lagging a whole season behind its fellows. But already it was so late that the English passengers on the Kaiser Fritz had abandoned all thought of catching the last train to London. They tramped the deck in their noisy, shining, shore-going boots; they manned the rail in lazy Inarticulate appreciation of the nocturne in blue stippled with green and red and count less yellow lights. But Achilles in his tent was no more conspicuous absen tee than Cazalet in his cabin as the Kaiser Fritz steamed sedately up Southampton Water. He had finished packing; the state room floor was Impassable with the baggage that Cazalet had wanted on the five-weeks* voyage. There was scarcely room to sit down, but in what there was sat Cazalet like a soul in torment. All the vultures of the night before, of his dreadful dream, and of the poignant reminiscences to which his dream had led. might have been gnawing at his vitals as he sat there waiting to set foot once more in the land from w’hich a bitter blow had driven him. Yet the bitterness might have been allayed by the consciousness that he, at any rate, had turned it to account. It had been, indeed, the making of him; thanks to that stern incentive, even some of the sweets of a deserved success were already his. But there was no hint of complacency in Caza let's clouded face and heavy attitude. His face was pale, even in that tor rid zone between the latitudes protect ed in the bush by beard and wide awake. And he Jumped to his feet as suddenly as the screw stopped for the first time. The same thing happened again and yet again, as often as ever the engines paused before the # end Cazalet would spring up and watch his stateroom door with clenched fists and j haunted eyes. But it was some long | time before the door flow open, and j then slammed behind Hilton Toye. Toye was in a state of excitement i even more abnormal than Cazalet’s j nervous despondency, which indeed It prevented him from observing. It was instantaneously clear that Toye was astounded, thrilled, almost triumphant, but as yet just drawing the line at that. A newspaper fluttered in his hand. “Second sight?” he ejaculated, as though It were the night before and Cazalet still shaken by his dream. **! guess you’ve got It tn full measure, pressed down and running over. Mr. Cazalet?" (TO BK CONTINUED.! The Real Thing. It is not numbers that eoaat bat In sortanoe. Temperance (Conducted by the National Woman’* Christian Temperance Union.) i SCIENTIFIC INSTRUCTION. k In 1897 two leading professors of Germany sent to the men of that coun try a pronouncement favoring total ab • etinence. It contained this declara* > tion: '“Science has shown that alcohol. ' even in moderate quantities, causea disturbance in brain action, paralyzes 1 the critical capacity, power of will, the ; ethical and esthetic sense, and lowers self-control. For this reason we 1 should realize that it is a poison and 1 no longer to be classed with foods.” The document received nine signa tures. Ten years later it was sent out again and received 800 signatures of German medical men, 116 of whom were professors. In 1913 a great antialcoholic meeting was held in the Prussian house of dep uties, Berlin. The honorary president was the German chancellor, Dr. von Bethmann-Hollweg, and on the commit tee of honor all the Prussian ministers were represented and hundreds of em inent men of the empire. Doctor Jen sen, inspector general of the Berlin schools, called forth much applause when he said that “the education of youth is absolutely impossible with out an antialcohol element in it." Since then such instruction has been made a part of the regular course in the public schools of Germany, and entire courses in that subject are of fered by the great universities. FOE OF THE COLLEGEB. Of all the foes of young manhood on the American college campus, al cohol is the most subtle and destruc tive. It is peculiarly fitting that the American college student of today, wiser and better informed than his predecessors, should*give battle to his ancient and merciless adversary. If gravestones were placed on our col lege grounds to those slain in the flush Of young manhood by intoxicating drink, the acres of verdant lawn around even our best institutions would become vast cemeteries ghastly with thick-strewn headstones. With a devilish Instinct for maximum destruc tiveness, this demon of the campus seems to pick out for degradation the gayest, the loveliest, the most talent ed, and to re-enforce his assault by en listing the social and generous in stincts which constitute the very charm of youth. Opening always the gate to passion and appetite, he is the aggressive ally of everything which degrades college life, the promoter of tragedies innumerable on every cam pus. the tireless enemy of virtue, pur ity, diligence and intellectual develop ment. —Henry Louis Smith, President Washington and Lee University. GOOD LINE OF BUSINESS. It was at a campaign meeting in Ohio. The speaker said that West Vir gania had profited financially by vot ing dry. A man in the audience dis puted this statement. He said that he was a salesman, that he visited evel-y county seat in West Virginia, and that his business had fallen off considerably since the state went dry. Another man spoke up and said that he was a salesman and “made” West Virginia regularly and that his busi ness had increased since the state be came dry. He asked the fellow who reported a falling off what his line was and the latter reluctantly admit ted that he sold undertakers’ supplies, at which the crowd yelled. The man who declared that prohibition had helped his business explained he sold furniture. SURELY A MISTAKE! “Smoky” Hobbs of Columbus was fined S4OO and given six months for il legal selling of liquor. What? In Columbus? Surely must be a mistake. Bootleggers only ply their trade in dry towns. That’s why the benevo lent wets run saloons, to keep bad men from bootlegging in dry towns. Tut. tut! Yes, it must be a mistake. — Caldwell Press. PROHIBITION AND BUSINESS. Endorsement of the value of a prohi | bltion law as an aid to general busi ness prosperity was recently signed by men representing the leading indus tries of Steubenville, 0., among others two paper companies, a glass com pany. two foundries, two clay com panies. a tin plate company and a pot tery concern. HARD TO UNDERSTAND. Just why anyone should ever sup pose that because the people of any city stop buying booze they will per force stop buying land, or paying rent or patronizing the meat market, bake shop, grocery or clothing store is hard to understand. PROHIBITION PROHIBITS. “When the number of arrests are slashed in two in one year it is pretty conclusive evidence that prohibition prohibits not only liquor selling but crime as well,” is the comment of the Youngstown (O.) Telegram on the re markable decrease In arrests In the state of West Virginia since prohibi tion became the law of the state. FACTORY RKPLACEB BREWERY. Tear down s brewery and upon Its ruins will rise a factory.—John Mitch ell, Labor Leader. The HOME BEAUTIFUL Tf@i§ers and TKartare and CuMvatiorv. Japanese Anemone or Wind Flower. APRIL IN BIRDLAND By L. M. BENNINGTON. This month the birds mate, and many new ones come from the South. This month the boys and girls wander all over the woods and fields looking for the bluets, the violets, hepaticas and spring beauties. This spring I hope they will not pick too many of our wild flowers, because it is feared that in time there will not be many of our beautiful native blossoms to gather. They have been ruthlessly plucked and thrown aside for so many years by thoughtless children that a great many of the most beautiful and val uable species have run out of exist ence. In their walks in the woods this spring it would be very Interesting to the boys and girls to take up the study of wild flowers and the study An Automatic Food Shelter That Holds Four Quarts of Chicken Feed and Supplies It as Required to the Birds. of birds, and they would le&rn to love the w oodland beauties quite as well as their own stems and plants, and too well to pick them and let them die in a tew hours. This spring the kingfisher comes back to his favorite haunts, and we hear him as from a limb overhanging the river, with a harsh, loud cry he drops down and seizes the yellow belly on which he has nad his eye so long, awaiting the opportunity to secure a good dinner in this way. The phoebe, which we all know and love to hear in the early springtime, commences to build the last of this month. Their nests are found under the eaves, bridges or oli barns, and are made of grass, fine moss and hair plastered together with mud and lined with soft feathers and wool. The Phoebe's call is “Phoe—e—be! Phoe — e—be!” When robins are mated, they build from the middle of April to the first of May, near our dwelling houses, in the apple orchard, in the pear trees, and on grape arbors, and in the vines of the piazza, provided the cats are not too numerous. Robins are very domestic, often rearing three broods in a season. During this month we have the brown thrush, whosa song is a rest for the weary. He begins to sing early in the morning, and his voice can be heard above a*l others, ringing out like a silver bell. Again be is the last bird to sing at sunset. When all the others have put chelr heads under their wings and “gone to Nodland” the thrush’s sweet song is heard from the woodland. WHEN THE GROUND THAWS Aa aooo as the ground thaw* enough to permit It, dig in the manure that has been need to mulch the trees, throbs and plants. It la not wise to sl ow a heating mulch to remain about tbe rcota or trunks, aa It map cans he hark to soften and permit the am ’ranee of to Juno us spores. GARDEN FOR BUSY WOMAN By E. VAN BENTHUYSEN. — # i Every woman ought to have £ gar den. The change that takes a woman out of doors away from the routine of housework is a good one. It affords health, happiness and a positive relief to the overworked muscles and tired brain of the woman who spends most of her day indoors. There is health for both body and brain in working in a garden. There are a great many flowers that require very little care and give won derful returns for the little time ex pended. My advice to the woman who has not much time to give to her gar den is to plant only the flowers that will give the best result for her limit ed care. No lover of flowers can afford to be without a corner for sweet peas. They bloom in wonderful profusion and their beauty and fragrance are too well known to need comment. Plant as early in' the season as possible, and bow the seeds about an inch apart. Cover with about two inches of soil and tamp the soil down firmly. Keep the roots well covered as they grow, as shallow planted sweet peas often fail in hot weather. Provide some brush for them to grow on, water pro fusely and enjoy their beauty. Allow a corner for poppies. Also space for a few china asters, like our grandmothers grew. Nothing is eas ier to grow, nothing blooms more pro fusely. Few plants are richer in color or bloom later in the season. Phlox is a profuse bloomer and rich and varied in coloring. It is most ef fective when and the colors kept separate. The gillyflower is a fragrant old timer worthy of our attention. This is a late bloomer, like the aster. Plant Snapdragons Easy to Grow and EfTse tiva for tha Busy Woman’s Garden. the double ones, they are very pretty and are an excellent flower (or cut. tiny. They come In white, pink, red, and a dull purplish blue. The verbena and the portulacca are One flowers to plant in low beds and make an excellent border. The morn ins glory is an old favorite that had no equal (or covering porchea, fencee, or (or training over unsightly buildings. Plan to have a garden this year, no matter how little time you think jwu have to give to It Tour health will be so much better to r the time spent out of doors that you will find you win hurry up the work la the house te get out to your garden. Among the deddeoee trees the exuding of sap Is Iniirtsns to the trees. BoU conditions bsttwed WB prevent this.