[
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1926, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Roland Schlenker, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n    ILLUSTRATIONS BY\n    HENRY RALEIGH\n    NEW YORK\n    THE CENTURY CO.\n    Copyright, 1914, by\n    THE CENTURY CO.\n    Copyright, 1914, by The Ridgway Company\n    _Published, October, 1914_\n           MY FELLOW-CONSPIRATORS\n    HELEN L. KLOEBER AND JESSIE C. SOULE\n    When winter's breath was on the pane,\n    Through dusk and snow, wild winds and rain,\n    I fled to your bright hearth again\n    To read about a _Shadow_!\n    You lit the lamp, you brewed the tea,\n    Pulled up the deepest chair for me,\n    And set yourselves to guess and see--\n    _What ailed that minx, Christina?_\n    What Herrick found--what Nancy knew--\n    Whose motor raced the county through--\n    What could that harsh Policeman do--\n    You never failed to argue;\n    Of moonlight, murders, lovers, threats,\n    Vengeance and kisses, siren's nets,\n    And pale, dark men with cigarettes,\n    Not once I found you weary!\n    Through broken music, sudden light\n    In the deep darkness, jewels bright,\n    Persons unknown in unknown plight,\n    You still sought _unknown_ persons;\n    Authors, if you would straightway know\n    Where faith and cheer and counsel grow,\n    Suggestions flourish and hints flow:\n    _Go ask my Nancy Cornish!_\n[Illustration: Suddenly she flung one arm up and out in such a strange\nand splendid gesture, of such free and desperate passion, as Herrick had\nnever seen before]\nCONTENTS\n    BOOK FIRST\n    THE SHADOW ON THE BLIND\n    VIII MRS. WILLING TELLS WHAT SHE KNOWS                             51\n    XII HERRICK RECEIVES A TELEPHONE MESSAGE                           96\n    BOOK SECOND\n    THE SHADOW ON THE SCREEN\n    I HERRICK PAYS A CALL, AND THE TEA IS SPILT                       103\n    II IN WHICH A MYSTERIOUS ARM IS OUTSTRETCHED                      115\n    III HERRICK GUESSES AT THE MYSTERY AND GETS IN SOMETHING'S\n    IV THE MYSTERY PAUSES, AND OTHER THINGS GO FORWARD                133\n    VII MORNING IN THE PARK: THE SILENT OUTCRY                        170\n    VIII A GREAT OCCASION APPROACHES AND THE VILLAIN\n    IX PRESTO CHANGE:  \"OUT OF THE NIGHT THAT COVERS\n    X MIDNIGHT IN THE PARK; \"JE SUIS AUSSI SANS D\u00c9SIR--\"              190\n    XII AULD ACQUAINTANCE: WHAT CHRISTINA SAW                         206\n    XIII THE NIGHT OF NIGHTS: THE PRINCESS IN THE TRANSFORMATION\n    XIV ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS                               219\n    BOOK THIRD\n    WILL O' THE WISP\n    II CORPSE CANDLES IN THE NIGHT: MRS. DEUTCH'S STORY               242\n    III SEARCH-LIGHTS FLASHED IN THE EYES: KANE'S STORY               254\n    IV A LIGHT ALONG THE ROAD: DENNY GIVES AN ADDRESS                 270\n    V THE WRONG SIDE OF THE LIGHT: WHERE CHRISTINA\n    VI THE YELLOW HOUSE AND WHAT THEY FOUND AT IT                     292\n    VII VANISHING LADY: THE SHADOW AT THE DANCE                       298\n    VIII JILL-IN-THE-BOX! THE LAST OF THE GRAY TOURING CAR            305\n    X \"THE OLD EARL'S DAUGHTER\": MRS. PASCOE ON FAMILY\n    XI THE ARM OF JUSTICE ON CLEANING DAY: AN OVERTURE\n    XII THE COMIC OPERA CHORUS:  \"AND SAID, 'WHAT A GOOD\n    XIII \"WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOR?\": A CRIMINAL PERFORMANCE      356\n    XIV THE SICILIAN TRAITOR:  \"YOU THAT CHOOSE NOT BY THE\n    XVI THE LAST SHADOW:  \"LEAVE ALL THAT TIES THY FOOT\n    BOOK FOURTH\n    THE LIGHTED HOUSE\n    VI THE DARKEST HOUR:  \"OF WOUNDS AND SORE DEFEAT I\n    VII THE SHADOW'S FACE: BEING ALSO THE FULL STORY OF\n    VIII IN WHICH CHRISTINA HOPE DOES POSITIVELY REAPPEAR             481\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n    Suddenly she flung one arm up and out in such a strange and\n    splendid gesture, of such free and desperate passion, as\n    Herrick had never seen before                     _Frontispiece_\n    Not a breath, not a movement, greeted the invaders                 10\n    \"Mr. Coroner,\" she said, \"I wish to correct a false impression;\n    \"'Great Scott!' I says to myself, 'There's Miss Hope!'\"            86\n    \"There are detectives shadowing me,\" Christina said. \"Don't\n    Nowhere was there a letter, no significant writing nor any\n    \"You fool!\" she cried. \"You miserable, monstrous fool!\n    \"Shall I let her come in? Shall I tell at last what you are,\nBOOK FIRST\nTHE SHADOW ON THE BLIND\nCHAPTER I\nWHAT HAPPENED IN THE NIGHT\n\"Ask Nancy Cornish!\"\nThe phrase might have exploded into Herrick's mind, it leaped there with\nsuch sudden violence, distinct as the command of a voice, out of the\nsmothering blackness of the torrid August night.\nHe started up instantly, as if to listen, sitting upright on the bed\nfrom which he had long since tossed all covering. Then he frowned at the\ntricks which the heat was playing upon even such strong nerves as his.\nIn the unacknowledged homesickness of his heart his very first doze had\nbrought him a dream of home; then the dream had slid along the trail of\ndesire to a cool sea beach, where he and Marion used to be taken every\nsummer when they were children, and a fog had rolled in along this beach\nwhich, at first, he had welcomed because it was so deliciously cold. It\nwas no longer his sister who was there beside him; it was no less\nunexpected a person than the Heroine of the novel he was writing and\nwhose conduct in the very next chapter he had been trying all day to\ndecide. It was a delightful convenience to have her there, ready to tell\nhim the secret of her heart! He saw that she had brought the novel with\nher, all finished. She held it out to him, open, and he read one\nphrase, \"When Ann and her lover were down in Cornwall.\" He asked her\nwhat that was doing there--since her name was not Ann and he had never\nimagined her in Cornwall. And then the fog rolled up between them,\nblotting out the book, blotting out his Heroine; that fog became a\nhorror, he was lost in it, and yet it vaguely showed him the shadowy\nforms of shadowy persons--he hoped if they were his other characters\nthey really weren't quite so shadowy as that!--one of whom threateningly\ncried to him through the fog, \"Ask Nancy Cornish!\" And here he was, now,\nactually conscious of a great rush of energy and intention, as if he\nreally had some way of asking Nancy Cornish, or anything to ask her, if\nhe had!\nHe remembered perfectly well, now, who she was--a little red-headed\ngirl, a friend of his sister; a girl whom he had not seen in eight years\nand did not care if he never saw again. What had brought her into his\ndreams?\nShe certainly had no business there. No girl had any business anywhere\ninside his head for the present, except that Heroine of his, whose\nphotograph he had had framed to reign over his desk. It was a photograph\nwhich he had found forgotten, last winter, in the room of a hotel in\nParis, and it had seemed to him the personality he had been looking for.\nOf the original he knew no more than that. But he knew well enough she\nwas not Nancy Cornish.\nThe novel was his first novel; and, after a long day of laborious\nfailure at it, Herrick, in pure despair of his own work, had early flung\nhimself abed. He had lain there waking and restless upon scorching\nlinen, reluctantly listening, listening; to the passage of the trolley\ncars on upper Broadway; to the faint, threatening grumble of the Subway;\nthe pitiful crying of a sick baby; the advancing, dying footfalls; to\nall the diabolic malevolence of shrieking or chugging automobiles. The\nmere act of sitting up, however, recalled him from the mussy stuffiness\nin which he had been tossing. Why, he was not buried somewhere in a\nblack hole! He was occupying his landlady's best bedroom--the back\nparlor, indeed, of Mrs. Grubey's comfortable flat. Well, and to-morrow,\nafter two months of loneliness, of one-sided conversations with the\nmaddeningly mute countenance of his Heroine and of swapping jokes,\nbaseball scores, weather prophecies, and political gossip with\nMcGarrigle, the policeman on the beat, he was going to take lunch with\nJimmy Ingham, the most eminent of publishers. Everything was all right!\nThat peculiar sense of waiting and watching was growing on him merely\nwith the restless brooding of the night, which smelt of thunder. In that\nburning, motionless air there was expectancy and a crouching sense of\nclimax.\nYet it was not so late but that, in the handsome apartment house\nopposite, an occasional window was still lighted. The pale blinds of one\nof these, directly on a level with Herrick's humbler casement, were\ndrawn to the bottom; and Herrick vaguely wondered that any one should\ncare to shut out even the idea of air. Just then, behind those blinds,\nsome one began to play a piano.\nThe touch was the touch of a master, and Herrick sat listening in\nsurprise. The tide of lovely melody swept boldly out, filling the air\nwith soaring angels. Could people be giving a party?\nHerrick got to his feet and struck a match. Five minutes past one! If he\ndressed and went down to the river, he would wake Mrs. Grubey and the\nGrubey children. He resigned himself; glancing at the precious letter of\nappointment with Ingham on his desk, and at the photograph of his\nHeroine, looking out at him with her quiet eyes; shy and candid, tender\nand bravely boyish, and cool with their first youth. To her he sighed,\nthinking of his novel, \"Well, Evadne, we must have faith!\" He turned out\nthe light again, stripped off the coat of his pajamas, sopped the\ndrinking water from his pitcher over his head and his strong shoulders,\nand drew an easy chair up to the window. Down by the curb one of those\nquivering automobiles seemed to purr, raspingly, in its sleep. Some one\nacross the street was talking on and on, accompanied by the musician's\nnow soft and improvising touch. Then, in Herrick's thoughts, the voice,\nor voices, and the fitful, straying music began to blend; and then he\nhad no thoughts at all.\nHe was wakened by a demonic crash of chords. His eyes sprang open; and\nthere, on the blind opposite, was the shadow of a woman. She stood there\nwith her back to the window, lithe and tense, and suddenly she flung one\narm up and out in such a strange and splendid gesture, of such free and\ndesperate passion, as Herrick had never seen before. For a full minute\nshe stood so; and then the gesture broke, as though she might have\ncovered her face. The music, scurrying onward from its crash, had never\nceased; it had risen again, ringing triumphantly into the march from\nFaust, a man's voice rising furiously with it, and it flashed over\nHerrick that they might be rehearsing some scene in a play. Then the\nsound of a pistol-shot split through the night. Immediately, behind the\nblind, the lights went out.\nCHAPTER II\nHERRICK FINDS A DOOR BOLTED\nThe sleepy boy at the switchboard of the house opposite did not seem to\nfeel in the situation any of the urgency which had brought Herrick into\nthat elegant vestibule, barefoot and with nothing but an unbuttoned\nulster over his pajama trousers. The boy said he guessed the shot wasn't\na shot; he guessed maybe it was an automobile tire. There couldn't be a\nlady in 4-B, anyhow; it was just a bachelor apartment. Well, he supposed\nit was 4-B because there was always complaints of him playing on the\npiano late at night. The switchboard called him imperatively as he\nspoke, and he reluctantly consented to ring up the superintendent.\nInstinctively, he refrained from interfering with Herrick when that\nyoung man possessed himself of the elevator and shot to the fourth\nfloor.\nThere was no further noises, no call for help, no woman's fleeing\nfigure. But Herrick's sense of locality guided him down a little hall,\nupon which, toward the front, only two apartments opened. One of these\nwas lettered 4-B. If Herrick had not stopped for his boots he had for\nhis revolver and it was with the butt end of this that he began\nhammering upon the sheet-iron surface of that door. There was no answer.\nWas he too late?\nThe other door opened the length of a short chain. A little man, with\nwisps of woolly gray standing up from his head as if in amazement,\nbrought his face to the opening and quavered, \"Be careful! You'll get\nhurt! Be--\"\n\"Good God!\" cried Herrick. \"There's a woman in there!\"\n\"A woman! Why--I _thought_ I heard a woman--!\"\nIt was not so long since Herrick's reporting days but that he believed\nhe could still work the trick pressure by which two policemen will burst\nin the strongest lock. But he now gave up hope of the woolly gentleman\nas an assistant and turned his attention to the brass knob. \"Get me a\nscrew-driver!\"\n\"Theodore!\" came a voice from behind the woolly gentleman, \"Don't you\nopen our door! It's no business of yours!\"\nHerrick, glancing desperately about him for any aid, was sufficiently\naware that he might be making a fool of himself for nothing. But the\nyoung fellow felt that was a risk he had to take. In the long hall\ncrossing the little one he could hear doors opening; the clash of\nquestioning voices mingled with excited cries--And then came a girl's\nvoice shrilling, \"Isn't anybody going to _do_ anything?\" A husky\nbusiness voice roared from secure cover, \"You don't know what you may be\nbreaking into, young man! You may get yourself in trouble.\"\nHerrick growled through his teeth an imprecation that ended in \"Hand me\na screw-driver, can't you? And a hammer!\" The sweat was pouring down his\nface from the pressure of his strength upon the lock, but the lock held.\nWhat was going on in there? Or--what had ceased to go on? He could hear\nTheodore tremblingly protesting, \"I have telephoned for the\nsuperintendent--He has the keys. It's the superintendent's business--\"\nHad the one shot done the trick? Then, above the stairhead, across the\nlonger hall, appeared the helmet of a policeman. At his heels came the\nsuperintendent, carrying the keys.\nThe policeman was jolted from his first idea of arresting Herrick by\nHerrick's welcoming cry, \"Get a gait on you, McGarrigle!\" which\nproclaimed to him a valued acquaintance; then, with a hand shaking with\nexcitement, the half-dressed superintendent fitted the key in the lock.\nThe lock turned but nothing happened. The door was bolted on the inside.\nThe re-captured elevator was heard in the distance, and the\nsuperintendent sang out, \"Get the engineer! Hurry! Make him hurry!--You\nheard no cries--no?\" he asked of Herrick. And he stood wiping his face\nand breathing hard, his brow dark with trouble.\nThe halls had begun to be bravely peopled. Also, a second policeman had\narrived. And the information spread that one of these reassuring figures\nhad been left in the hall downstairs and that another had gone to the\nroof. Curiosity, comparatively comfortable and respectable, now, made\nitself audible and even visible on every side; some adventurers from the\nstreet had sallied in. When McGarrigle asked the superintendent, \"Any\nway we can get a look in?\" some one immediately volunteered, \"There's\nMrs. Willing's apartment right across the entrance-court. You can see in\nboth these rooms from hers.\"\n\"Only two rooms?\"\n\"Parlor, bedroom and bath,\" said somebody in the tone of a prospectus.\n\"You go see what you can see, Clancy,\" said McGarrigle to the second\npoliceman. \"Now, Mr. Herrick?\"\nHerrick told what he knew, and McGarrigle, his eyes resting with\nadmiration on the extremely undraped muscles of his informant, plied him\nwith attentive questions. Herrick's own eyes were on the engineer's\nsteel. Would it never spring the bolt? \"If only she'd cry out!\" he said.\n\"Why doesn't she make some sign?\"\n\"You're sure 'twas him fired?\"\n\"That shadow had no revolver.\"\n\"He's done for her, then. Els't he'd never have barricaded himself\nlike, in there. He didn't give himself a dose, after?\"\n\"Only the one shot.\"\n\"If there's an inquest you'll be wanted.\"\n\"All right.--But why hasn't he tried to gain time with some kind of\nparley--some kind of bluff?\"\n\"Knows he's cornered. He'll show fight as we go in on him. If there's\nmore than one--\" The bolt gave.\nMcGarrigle turned like a fury. \"Clear the hall,\" he cried.\nThere was a confused movement. Obedient souls disappeared.\nClancy returned and reported the front room invisible from Mrs.\nWilling's side window, the shade of its own side window being down. In\nthe bedroom and bath all lights out, but shades up and nothing stirring.\n\"Any hall?\"\nThe superintendent replied in the negative.\n\"No fire-escapes, you say?\"\n\"No. Fireproof building.\"\n\"They're right ahead of us, then.\"\nAgain, with a long shudder, the door gave.\nThe whole hall seemed to give a gasping breath. McGarrigle growled.\n\"I'll have no mix-up in this hall!\" He favored Herrick with a wink that\nsaid, \"See me clear 'em out!\" \"Clancy, you stay here by the door; pick\nout half a dozen of 'em that see it through and hold 'em to be\nwitnesses.\" The halls were cleared. Locks clicked as if by simultaneous\nmiracles and even the adventurers from the street could be heard in full\nflight. Herrick and McGarrigle exchanged grim smiles. \"Now! You keep\nback, Mr. Herrick! Clancy, look out!\" The engineer jumped to one side.\nThe door swung open.\n[Illustration: Not a breath, not a movement, greeted the invaders]\nIt gave directly into the dark room which had lately been full of light\nand music and a woman's passionate grace. Not a breath, not a\nmovement, greeted the invaders. No shadow, now, on the white blind.\nWhatever was within the dusk simply waited. Herrick, pushing past\nClancy, entered the room with McGarrigle. Behind them the superintendent\nleaned in and pressed an electric button. Light sprang forth, flooding\neverything. The room was empty.\nCHAPTER III\nSOMETHING ELSE IS FOUND\n\"Get-away, eh!\" said McGarrigle, grimly.\nThe superintendent, shaken and wide-eyed, responded only \"The bolt!\"\nThey glanced round them, non-plused.\nThe large living-room upon which they had entered was richly furnished,\nbut it had no screens nor hidden corners, and, on that summer night, the\nwindows were undraped. The doorway in which they stood faced the great\nwindow which took up nearly all the frontage of the room. The door\nopened against the left wall. Just beyond the door, along that left\nwall, stood the piano; beyond that a couch; between the head of the\ncouch and the front window the wall was cut, up to the molding, by one\nof those high, narrow doors which, in a modern apartment house, indicate\nthe welcome, though inopportune, closet. This door was the single object\nof suspicion; then, an overturned chair caught their attention. It lay\nbetween the great library-table which, standing horizontally, almost\nhalved the room, and the narrow strip of paneling of wall to the right\nof the main door in which the superintendent had pressed the button for\nthe lights. In the right wall, opening on the entrance-court, directly\nopposite the piano, but also with its blind drawn, was another window of\nordinary size.\n\"The bedroom,\" said the superintendent, moistening his lips, \"'s on the\ncourt, there.\" Then they observed, to their right, the bedroom's arch\nhung with heavy porti\u00e8res. And the sight of these porti\u00e8res carried\nwith it a cold thrill. But--\"There ain't anybody in there!\" Clancy\npersisted.\nMcGarrigle walked over to the door in the wall and tried it. It was\nlocked and there was no key in the lock. \"What's this?\"\n\"A closet.\"\n\"Open it, engineer. Clancy, you stand by him.\"\nHe went up to the porti\u00e8res, opened them with some caution and peered\nin. Faced only by an empty room he jerked at the porti\u00e8res to throw them\nback; they were very heavy and the humidity made their rings stick to\nthe pole so that Deutch, running to his assistance, held one aside for\nhim, while with his other hand he himself fumbled to spring on the\nbedroom light. Herrick was hard upon McGarrigle's heels, but, a look\nround revealing nothing, he was struck by a sudden fancy and, recrossing\nthe living-room, raised the shade. No, the little balcony was wholly\nempty. The great window had been made in three sections, and the middle\nsection was really a pair of doors that opened outward on this balcony.\nClancy commented upon the foolishness of their not opening in as he\nwatched Herrick step through them into the calm night that offered no\nexplanation of that bolted emptiness. Herrick stepped to the end of the\nbalcony and craned round toward the entrance-court. From the now lighted\nbedroom window there was no access to any other. He glimpsed\nMcGarrigle's head stuck forth from the bathroom for the same\nobservation. And it somehow surprised him that a trolley car should\nstill bang indifferently past the corner; that, just opposite, that\nautomobile should still chug away, as if nothing had happened. Then he\nheard a cry from the superintendent, followed by the policeman's oath.\nHerrick ran into the bedroom and stopped short. On the floor at the foot\nof the bed lay the body of a young man in dinner clothes. He had been\nshot through the heart.\nCHAPTER IV\nHERRICK IS SURE OF ONE THING\nThere was something at once commonplace and incredible about it--about\nthe stupid ghastliness of the face and about the horrid, sticky smear in\nthe muss of the finely tucked shirt. That gross, silly sprawl of the\nlimbs!--was it those hands that had called forth angelic music? The dead\nman was splendidly handsome and this somehow accentuated Herrick's\nrevulsion. McGarrigle bent over the body. After a moment he said to the\nsuperintendent, \"No use for a doctor. But if you got one, get him.\"\n\"He's dead!\" said the superintendent. \"It's suicide!\" He spoke quietly,\nbut with a dreadfully repressed and labored breath. \"Officer, can't you\nsee it's suicide?\" He called up the doctor, and then to the silent group\nhe again insisted, \"It's him shot himself. The door was bolted on the\ninside. He had to shoot himself!\"\nMcGarrigle was at the 'phone, calling up the station. Turning his head\nhe responded, \"Where's the weapon?\"\nThey had got the closet open now; no one there. No one in the bedroom\ncloset. No one under the big brass bed, in the folds of the porti\u00e8res,\nbehind the piano, under the couch. No one anywhere. Nor any weapon,\neither.\nHerrick and Clancy began to examine the fastening of the door. It was an\nordinary little brass catch--a slip-catch, the engineer called it--which\nshot its bolt by being turned like a Yale lock. \"If this door shut\nbehind any one with a bang, could the catch slip of itself?\" The\nengineer shook his head.\nThe hall was long since full again, though the adventurers were ready to\npop back at a moment's notice; pushing through them came the doctor.\nHerrick did not follow him into the bedroom. The room he stood in had a\npersonality it seemed to challenge him to penetrate.\nHis most pervasive impression was of cool coloring. The porti\u00e8res were\nof a tapestry which struck Herrick as probably genuine Gobelin, but with\ntheir famous blue faded to a refreshing dullness and he now remembered\nthat in handling them he had found them lined with a soft but very heavy\nsatin of the same shade, as if to give them all possible substance. The\nstretched silk, figured in tapestry, which covered the walls, had been\ndyed a dull blue, washed with gray, to match them; and, to Herrick, this\ntint, sober as it was, somehow seemed a strange one for a man's room. In\ncouch and rugs and lampshades these notes of gray and blue continued to\npredominate, greatly enhanced by all the woodwork, which, evidently\nsupplied by the tenant, was of black walnut.\nHe had been no anchorite, that tenant. In the corner between the bedroom\nand the court window the surface of a seventeenth century sideboard\nglimmered under bright liquids, under crystal and silver. Beyond that\nwindow all sorts of rich lusters shone from the bindings of the books\nthat thronged shelves built into the wall until they reached the great\ndesk standing in the farthest right hand corner to catch the front\nwindow's light. A lamp stood on this desk, unlighted. At present all the\nillumination in the room came from three other lamps; one that squatted\natop of the grand piano, between the now flameless old silver\ncandelabra; one, almost veiled by its heavy shade, in the middle of the\nlibrary table; and one, of the standing sort, that rose up tall from a\nsea of newspapers at the head of the couch. All these lamps, worked by\nthe same switch, were electric, and the ordinary electric fixtures had\nbeen dispensed with; the light was abundant, but very soft and thrown\nlow, with outlying stretches of shadow. It was not remarkable that it\nhad failed to show them the murdered man until the electricity in the\nbedroom itself had been evoked.\nHerrick looked again at the couch. Its cushions had lately been rumpled\nand lounged upon; at its head, under the tall lamp, stood a teakwood\ntabouret, set with smoking materials on a Benares tray. At its foot, as\nif for the convenience of the musician, a little ebony table bore a\ndecanter and a bowl of ice; the ice in a tall glass, half-empty, was\nstill melting into the whiskey; in a shallow Wedgewood saucer a\nhalf-smoked cigarette was smoldering still.\n\"McGarrigle!\" said Herrick, in a low voice.\n\"Hallo!\"\n\"He was shot in here, after all. I was sure of it.\" And he pointed to\nthe foot of the piano stool. Still well above the surface of the\nhardwood flooring was a little puddle of blood.\nMcGarrigle contemplated this with a kind of sour bewilderment. \"Well,\nthe coroner's notified. You'll be wanted, y'know, to the inquest.\"\n\"What's this?\" asked somebody.\nIt was a long chiffon scarf and it lay on the library table under the\nlamp. Clancy lifted it and its whiteness creamed down from his fingers\nin the tender lights and folds which lately it had taken around a\nwoman's throat. Just above the long silk fringe, a sort of cloudy\narabesque was embroidered in a dim wave of lucent silk. And Herrick\nnoticed that the color of this border was blue-gray, like the blue-gray\nroom. As they all grimly stared at it, the superintendent exclaimed, \"I\nnever saw it before!\"\nMcGarrigle looked from him to the scarf and commanded, in deference to\nthe coming coroner, \"You leave that lay, now, Clancy!\"\nClancy left it. But something in the thing's frail softness affected\nHerrick more painfully than the blood of the dead man. In no nightmare,\nthen, had he imagined that shadow of a woman! She had been here; she was\ngone. And, on the floor in there, was that her work?\nNow that the interest of rescue had failed, he wanted to get away from\nthat place. He wanted to dress and go down to the river and think the\nwhole thing over alone. He had now heard the doctor's verdict of instant\ndeath; and McGarrigle, again reminding him that he would be wanted at\nthe inquest, made no objection to his withdrawal.\nOn his own curb stood a line of men, staring at the windows of 4-B as if\nthey expected the tragedy to be re\u00ebnacted for their benefit. They all\nturned their attention greedily to Herrick as he came up, and the\nnearest man said, \"Have they got him?\"\n\"Him?\"\n\"Why, the murderer!\"\n\"Oh!\" Herrick said. Even in the crude excitement of the question the\nman's voice was so pleasant and his enunciation so agreeably clear that\nHerrick, constitutionally sensitive to voices and rather weary for the\nsound of cultivated speech, replied familiarly, \"I'm afraid, strictly\nspeaking, that there isn't any murderer. It's supposed to be a woman.\"\n\"Indeed! Well, have they caught her?\"\n\"They've caught no one. And, after all, there seems to be some hope that\nit's a suicide.\"\n\"Oh!\" said the other, with a smile. \"Then you found him in evening\ndress! I've noticed that bodies found in evening dress are always\nsupposed to be suicides!\"\nThe note of laughter jarred. \"I see nothing remarkable,\" Herrick rebuked\nhim, with considerable state, \"in his having on dinner clothes.\"\n\"Nothing whatever! 'Dinner clothes'--I accept the correction. Any poor\nfellow having them on, a night like this, might well commit\nsuicide!--I'm obliged to you,\" he nodded. And, humming, went slowly down\nthe street.\nHerrick suddenly hated him; and then he saw how sore and savage he was\nfrom the whole affair. The same automobile still waited, not far from\nhis own door, and he longed to leap into it and send it rapid as fury\nthrough the night, leaving all this doubt and horror behind him in the\ncramped town. His troubled apprehension did not believe in that\nsuicide.--What sort of a woman was she? And what deviltry or what\ndespair had driven her to a deed like that? Where and how--in God's\nname, how!--had she fled? He, too, looked up at that window where he had\nseen the lights go out. It was brightly enough lighted, now. But this\ntime there was no blind drawn and no shadow. The bare front of the house\nbaulked the curiosity on fire in him. \"How the devil and all did she get\nout?\" It was more than curiosity; it was interest, a kind of personal\nexcitement. That strange, imperial, and passionate gesture! The woman\nwho made it had killed that man. Of one thing he was sure. \"If ever I\nsee it again, I shall know her,\" he said, \"among ten thousand!\"\nCHAPTER V\nHERRICK READS A NEWSPAPER\nLate the next morning Herrick struggled through successive layers of\nconsciousness to the full remembrance of last night. But now, with\nto-morrow's changed prospective, those events which had been his own\nlife-and-death business, had, as it were, become historic and passed out\nof his sphere; they were no longer of the first importance to him.\nInestimably more important was his appointment with Ingham. Herrick had\npassed such a lonely summer that the prospect of a civilized luncheon\nwith an eminent publisher was a very exciting business. Moreover, this\nwas a critical period in his fortunes.\nAt twenty-eight years of age Bryce Herrick knew what it was to live a\nsingularly baffled life--a life of artificial stagnation. His first\ntwenty-two years, indeed, had been filled with an extraordinary\npopularity and success. In the ancient and beloved town of Brainerd,\nConnecticut, where he was born, it had been enough for him to be known\nas the son of Professor Herrick. The family had never been rich, but for\ngenerations it had been an honored part of the life of the town. It was\nBryce's mother who, marrying in her girlhood a spouse of forty already\nlargely wedded to his History of the Ancient Chaldeans and Their\nRelation to the Babylonians and the Kassites, brought him a little\nfortune; she brought, as well, the warm rich strain of mingled Irish and\nSouthern blood which still touched the shrewdness of her son's clear\nglance and his boyish simplicity of manner, with something at once\npeppery and romantic. It was a popular combination. He grew into a tall\nyouth with a square chin, with square white teeth and rather an\naggressive nose, but, in his crinkly blue eyes, humor and kindness; with\na kind of happy glow pervading all his thought and all his\ndealings--just as it pervaded his fresh color, his look of gay hardihood\nand enduring power, the ruddiness of his brown hair and his tanned skin,\nand of his sensitive and sanguine blood. At college he had appeared very\nmuch more than the son of an eminent man. Of that fortunate physical\ntype which is at once large and slender--broad shouldered and deep\nchested, but narrow hipped, long of limb and strong and light of\nflank--it had surprised nobody when he became, as if naturally,\nspontaneously, a figure in athletics. What surprised people was the\ncraftmanship in those articles of travel and adventure which sprang from\nhis vacations. At twenty-two he was a reporter on the New York _Record_;\nsoon other reporters were prophesying that rockets come down like\nsticks, and he was not yet twenty-three when the blow fell. Mrs. Herrick\ndied, and it was presently found that her money had been a long time\ngone; mismanaged utterly by a hopeful husband. This amiable and innocent\ncreature had been bitten, in his old age, by the madness and the vanity\nof speculation; he had made a score of ventures, not one of which had\ncome to port. His health being now quite shattered, Switzerland was\nprescribed; there, for five years, in the country housekeeping of their\nstraitened circumstances, his son and daughter tended him. There, during\nthe first two years of exile, Herrick had written those short stories\nwhich had won him a distinguished reputation. No predictions had been\nthought too high for him; but he had never got anything together in book\nform, and bye-and-bye he had become altogether silent. It was all too\npainful, too futile, too muffling! He seemed to be meant for but two\nuses: to struggle with the knotted strains of Herrick senior's business\naffairs and to assist with that History of the Ancient Chaldeans and\nTheir Relation to the Babylonians and the Kassites, which was his\nfather's engrossing, and now sole and senile, mania. His father\nsuffered, so that the young man was the more enslaved; and made him\nsuffer, so that he was the more anxious his sister should do no\nsecretary work for the Chaldeans. But it was his mother's suffering he\nthought of now; the years in which she had put up with all this,\nuncomforted, and struggled to save something out of the wreck for Marion\nand for him, struggled to keep the shadow of it from their youth--and he\nhad not known! In so much solitude and so much distasteful occupation,\nthis idea flourished and struck deep. He saw his sister's life\nsacrificed, too; given up to household work and nursing, to exile and\npoverty, with lack of tenderness and with continual ailing pick-thanks;\nand there grew up in him a passionate consideration for women, a\nromantic faith in their essential nobility, a romantic devotion to their\nright to happiness. Snatched from all the populous clamor and dazzle of\nhis boyhood and set down by this backwater, alone with a young girl and\nthe Ancient Chaldeans, he grew into a very simple, lonely fellow;\nsometimes irascible but most profoundly gentle; a little old-fashioned;\nperhaps something of the pack-horse in his daily round; but living,\nmentally, in a very rosy, memory-colored vision of the great, strenuous,\nlost, world.\nDeath gave him back his life; Professor Herrick followed the Chaldeans,\nthe Babylonians, and the Kassites; within a few months Marion was\nmarried; and Herrick, with something like Whittington's sixpence in his\npocket, famished for adventure and companionship, with the appetite of a\nman and the experience of a boy, started for the rainbow metropolis of\nhis five-years' dream. In this mood he had rushed into the hot stone\ndesert of New York in summer--a New York already changed, and which\nseemed to have dropped him out!\nBut he brought, like other young desperadoes, his first novel with him;\nand he had approached the junior partner of the famous old house of\nIngham and Son with letters from mutual friends in Brainerd. Now, at\nlast, within twenty-four hours after his own return from abroad,\nIngham--himself scarcely a decade older than Herrick, preceding him at\nthe same university, and with a Brainerd man for a brother-in-law,--had\nresponded with the invitation to lunch. Yes, it was exciting enough!\nHerrick looked at his watch. It was barely ten. And then he took time to\nremember when he had last looked at his watch in that room.\nCertainly, it was rather grim! And yet, said the desperado, it wasn't\ngoing to be such a bad thing with which to command Ingham's interest at\nlunch and get him into a confidential humor that wouldn't be too\nsuperior. While he was attempting to inspire Ingham with a craving for\nhis complete works, this thrilling topic would be just the thing to do\naway with self-consciousness. He mustn't lose faith in himself. And,\nbefore all things, he mustn't, as he had done last night, lose faith in\nhis Heroine!\nHe looked across the room at her picture; got out of bed; walked over to\nher, and humbly saluted. Lose faith in her? \"Evadne,\" he said, \"through\nmy fault, through my fault, through my most grievous--You darling!\" Lose\nfaith in _her_!\nThe photograph, which looked like an enlargement of a kodak, represented\na very young girl, standing on a strip of beach with her back to the\nsea. Her sailor tie, her white dress, and the ends of her uncovered hair\nall seemed to flutter in the wind. Slim and tall as Diana she showed, in\nher whole light poise, like a daughter of the winds, and Herrick was\nsure that she was of a fresh loveliness, a fair skin and brown hair,\nwith eyes cool as gray water. It was the eyes, after all, which had\nwholly captured his imagination. They were extraordinarily candid and\nwide-set; in a shifting world they were entirely brave. This was what\ntouched him as dramatic in her face; she was probably in the new dignity\nof her first long skirts, so that all that candor and courage, all the\nalert quiet of those intelligent eyes were only the candor and courage\nof a kind of royal child. She wanted to find out about life; she longed\nto try everything and to face everything; but she was only a tall little\ngirl! That was the look his Heroine must have! Thus had she come\nadventuring to New York with him, to seek their fortunes, and all during\nthose dreary months of heat and dust she had borne him happy company; in\nthe Park or in the Bowery, at Coney Island or along Fifth Avenue's\ndeserted pomp, he had always tried to see, for the novel, how things\nwould look to that young eagerness--no more ardent, had he but realized\nit, than his own!--\"Evadne,\" said he, now, \"if things look promising\nwith Ingham this afternoon we'll take a taxi, to-night, and see the moon\nrise up the river.\" He called her Evadne when he was talking about the\nmoon; when he required her pity because the laundress had faded his best\nshirt, he called her Sal.\nA sound as of the Grubey children snuffling round his door recalled him\nto the illustrious circumstance that he was by way of being a hero of a\nmurder story. But, if he was nursing pride in that direction, it was\ndestined to a fall. Johnnie Grubey thrust under the door something\nwhich, as he had brought it up from the mail-box in the vestibule,\nJohnnie announced as mail. But it was only a large, rough scrap of\npaper, which astonished Herrick by turning out to be wall-paper--a\nragged sample of the pale green \"cartridge\" variety that so largely\nsymbolizes apartment-house refinement--and which confronted him from its\nsmoother side with the lines, penciled in a long, pointed, graceful\nhand,\n    For the Apollo in the bath-robe! Or was it a raincoat?\n    But should not Apollos stay in when it rains?\nIt was many a day since Herrick had received a comic valentine, but all\nthe appropriate sensations returned to him then. The hand of this\nneighborly jest was plainly a woman's and its slap brought a blush. He\nwas forced to grin; but he longed to evade the solemn questioning of the\nGrubeys through whose domain he must presently venture to his bath and\nit occurred to him that the most peaceful method of clearing a road was\nto send out the younger generation for a plentiful supply of newspapers.\nBesides, he wished very much to see the papers himself.\nHe distributed them freely and escaped back to his room still carrying\nthree. When he had closed his door, the first paragraph which met his\neyes was on the lower part of the sheet which he held folded in half. It\nbegan--\"The body of Mr. Ingham was not found in the living-room, but--\"\nHe flapped it over, agog for the headlines. They read:\n     DEATH BAFFLES POLICE.\n     James R. Ingham, Noted Publisher, Found Shot in  Apartment--\nHerrick was still standing with the paper in his hand when the second\nGrubey boy brought him a visiting-card. It bore the name of Hermann E.\nDeutch; and scribbled beneath this in pencil was the explanatory phrase,\n\"Superintendent, Van Dam Apartment House.\"\nCHAPTER VI\nHERRICK IS ASKED A FAVOR\nHermann Deutch was a shortish, middle-aged Jew, belonging to the humbler\nclasses and of a perfectly cheap and cheerful type. But at the present\nmoment he was not cheerful. He showed his harassment in the drawn\ndiffidence of his sympathetic, emotional face, and in every line of\nwhat, ten or fifteen years ago, must have been a handsome little person.\nSince that period his tight black curls, receding further and further\nfrom his naturally high forehead, had grown decidedly thin, and exactly\nthe reverse of this had happened to his figure. But he had still a pair\nof femininely liquid and large black eyes, brimming with the romance\nwhich does not characterize the cheap and cheerful of other races, and\nHerrick remembered him last night as very impressionably, but not\nbasely, nervous.\nHe now fixed his liquid eyes upon Herrick with an anxiety which took\nhumble but minute notes. Since the young fellow was at least\nhalf-dressed in very well-cut and well-cared-for, if not specially new,\ngarments, it was clear to Mr. Deutch's reluctant admiration that he was\nthoroughly \"_high-class_!\" Whatever was Mr. Deutch's apprehension, it\nshrank weakly back upon itself. Then he simply took his life in his\nhands and plunged.\n\"I won't keep you a minute, Mr. Herrick. But I've got a little favor I\nwant to ask you.--You behaved simply splendid last night, Mr.\nHerrick.--Well, I will, thanks,\"--as he dropped into a chair. \"I--I\nwon't keep you a minute--\"\n\"I'll be glad to do anything I can,\" Herrick interrupted.\nThe news in his paper had made him feel as if he had just been\ndisinherited and, now that the dead man was a personality so much nearer\nhome, his brain rang with a hundred impressions of pity and wonder and\nexcitement. But he sympathized with poor Mr. Deutch; it could be no\nsinecure to be the superintendent of a murder! Then, recollecting, \"What\nmade you so certain it was suicide?\" he asked suddenly.\n\"What else could it be? There wasn't anybody but him there.\"\n\"There was a woman there,\" Herrick said, \"when the shot was fired.\"\nThe superintendent took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. \"Well,\nnow, Mr. Herrick, that's just what I wanted to see you about. Now\nplease, Mr. Herrick, don't get excited and mad! All I want to say is, if\nthere _was_ a lady there last night--but there _couldn't_ have\nbeen--well, of course, Mr. Herrick, if you say so! Why, you couldn't\nhave seen her so very plain, now could you?\"\n\"What are you driving at?\" Herrick asked.\n\"Couldn't it have been a gentleman's shadow you saw, Mr. Herrick? Mr.\nIngham's shadow? Raising his pistol, maybe, with one hand--\"\n\"While he played the piano with the other?\"\n\"Mr. Herrick, there couldn't have been any lady there!\" He bridled.\n\"It's against the rules--that time o' night! I wouldn't ever allow such\na thing. There's never been a word against the Van Dam since I been\nrunning it. Why, Mr. Herrick, if there was to be that kind of talk,\nespecially if she was to murder the gentleman and all like that, I'd be\nruined. And so'd the house. It ain't one o' these cheap flat buildings.\nWe got leases signed by--\"\n\"Oh, I see!\" Herrick felt his temper rising. But he tried to be\nreasonable while he added, \"I'm very sorry for you. But there was a\nwoman there. I've reported so already to the police. Even if I had not,\nI couldn't go in for perjury, Mr. Deutch.\"\n\"No, no! Of course not! Of course! I wouldn't ask you! You don't\nunderstand me! It's not to take back what you said already to the\npolice. That'd get you into trouble. And it couldn't be done. I couldn't\nexpect it. It's not facts you might go a little easy on, Mr. Herrick;\nit's your language!\"\n\"What!\"\n\"It's your descriptive language, Mr. Herrick. If only you wouldn't be\nquite so particular--\"\n\"Look here!\" said Herrick with his odd, brusk slowness. \"I didn't know\nit myself last night. But Mr. Ingham wasn't altogether a stranger to\nme.\" Deutch stared at him. \"He had friends in the town I come from and a\ngood many people I know are going to be badly cut up about his death. I\nwas to have met him on business this very day. Now you can see that I\ndon't feel very leniently to the person--not even to the woman--who\nmurdered him. I don't believe he killed himself. He had no reason to do\nit. If there's anything I can do to prove he didn't, that thing's going\nto be done. If there's any word of mine that's a clue to tell who killed\nhim, I can't speak it often enough nor loud enough. Understand that, Mr.\nDeutch. And, good-morning.\"\n\"Oh, my God! Oh, dear! But my dear sir--\"\n\"And let me give you a word of warning. If you keep on like this what\npeople will really say is, that you knew there was a woman there and\nthat it was you who connived at her escape!\"\n\"All right!\" cried Mr. Deutch, unexpectedly. \"Let 'em say it! I got no\nkick coming if people tell lies about me, any. All I want stopped is the\nlies you're putting into people's heads about Miss Christina.\"\n\"Miss Christina!\" Herrick exclaimed. He stared, wondering if the poor\nworried little soul had gone out of his head. \"I never mentioned any\nwoman's name. I didn't know any to mention. I never heard of any Miss\nChristina!\"\n\"You told the policeman the way she made motions, moving around and all\nlike that, it made you think maybe they were rehearsing something out of\na play.\"\n\"Did I? Well?\"\nMr. Deutch possessed himself of the newspaper which Herrick had dropped\nupon the bed, and pointed to the last line of the murder story. It ran:\n\"About a year ago Mr. Ingham became engaged to be married to Christina\nHope, the actress.\" And Herrick read the line with a strange thrill, as\nof prophecy realized. \"Oh--ho!\" he breathed.\n\"Oh--ho!\" hysterically mocked the superintendent. \"You see what it makes\nyou think, all right. Even me!--that was what brought her first to my\nmind, poor lady. The police officers may have forgot it or not noticed,\nany. But if you say it again, at the inquest, you'll make everybody\nthink the same thing. And it's not so!\" he almost shrieked. \"It's not\nso. It's a damn mean lie! And you got no right to say such a thing!\"\n\"That's true,\" said Herrick, intently. After his impulsive whistle he\nhad begun to furl his sails. He had heard vaguely of Christina Hope, as\na promising young actress who had made her mark somewhere in the West,\nand was soon to attempt the same feat on Broadway. He knew nothing to\nher detriment.\n\"Ain't it hard enough for her, poor young lady, with him gone and all,\nbut what she should have that said about her! And it wouldn't stop\nthere, even! She was there alone with him at night, they'd say, with\ntheir nasty slurs. She'd never stand a chance. For there ain't any\ndenying she's on the stage, and that's enough to make everybody think\nshe's guilty--\"\n\"Oh, come! Why--\"\n\"Wasn't it enough for you, yourself?\"\nHerrick opened his lips for an indignant negative, but he closed them\nwithout speaking.\n\"The minute you seen that paragraph you felt 'She's just the person to\nbe mixed up with things that way.' And then you grabbed hold of yourself\nand said, 'Why, no. She may be as nice as anybody. Give her the benefit\nof the doubt.' But there's the doubt, all right. You're an edjucated\ngennelman,\" said Mr. Deutch, sympathetically, \"but all these prejudiced,\nold-fashioned farmers and low-brows like they got on juries--people like\nthem, and Miss Christina--Oh! Good Lord! Ach, don't I know 'em! Mr.\nHerrick, it's my solemn word, if you say that at the inquest to turn\nthem on to Miss Christina, you--\"\n\"I shan't say it at the inquest,\" Herrick said. He was astonished at the\ncompleteness of the charge in his own mind. He was convinced, now, in\nevery nerve, that Ingham had met death at the hands of his betrothed.\nBut the very violence of his conviction warned him not to lay such a\nhandicap upon other minds. His chance phrase, his chance impression,\nmust color neither the popular nor the legal outlook. \"I shall take very\ngood care, you may be sure, to say nothing of the kind. Here!\" he cried,\n\"you want a drink!\"\nFor Mr. Deutch, at this emphatic assurance, had put his plump elbows on\nhis plump knees and hidden his moon face, his spaniel eyes, with plump\nand shaky fists. He drank the whiskey Herrick brought him and slowly got\nhimself together; without embarrassment, but with a comfort in his\nrelaxation which made Herrick guess how tight he had been strung. As he\nreturned the glass he said, \"If you knew what a lot we thought, Mr.\nHerrick, me and my wife, of the young lady, I wouldn't seem anywheres\nnear so crazy to you.\"\nHerrick sat down on the edge of the bed in his shirtsleeves and\nregarded his guest. Strict delicacy required that he ask no questions.\nBut he was human. And he had been a reporter. He said, \"You used to see\nher with Mr. Ingham?\"\n\"Oh, great Scott, Mr. Herrick, we knew her long before that! Long before\never _he_ set eyes on her. When she was a tiny little thing and her papa\nhad money, he used to get his wine from my firm. He was such a\npleasant-spoken, agreeable gentleman that when I went into business for\nmyself I sent him my card. It wasn't the wine business, Mr. Herrick, it\nwas oil paintings. I always was what you might call artistic; I got very\nrefined feelings, and business ain't exactly in my line. I had as\nhigh-class a little shop as ever you set your eyes on; gold frames;\nplush draperies, electric lights; fine, beautiful oil paintings--oh,\nbeautiful!--by expensive, high-class artists; everything elegant. But it\nwasn't a success. The public don't appreciate the artistic, Mr. Herrick,\nthey got no edjucation. I lost my last dollar, and I don't know as I\never recovered exactly. I ain't ever been what you could call anyways\nsuccessful, since.\"\n\"But you saw something of Mr. Hope--\"\n\"Well, Mr. Hope was an edjucated gentleman, Mr. Herrick, like you are\nyourself. He had very up-to-date ideas; and when he'd buy a picture,\nonce in a while I'd go up to the house to see it hung. Miss Christina\nwas about eight years old, then, and I used to see her coming in from\ndancing school with her maid, or else she'd be just riding out with her\ngroom behind her, like a little queen. When my shop failed; I went to\nmanage my sister-in-law's restaurant. I was ashamed to let Mr. Hope know\nthat time. But one Sunday night, my wife says to me, 'Ain't that little\ngirl as pretty as the one you been telling me about?' And there in the\ndoor, with her long hair straight down from under her big hat and her\nlittle long legs in black silk stockings straight down from one o' them\npleated skirts and her long, square, coat, was Miss Christina. Behind\nher was her papa and her mama. And after that they came pretty regular\nevery week or two; we served her twelfth birthday party. My wife made a\ncake with twelve pink rosebuds, all herself. She was always the little\nlady, Miss Christina, but she made her own friends, and to people she\nliked she spoke as pretty as a princess. We got to feel such an\naffection for her, Mr. Herrick, we couldn't believe there was anybody\nlike her in this world. We never had a child of our own, me and my wife,\nMr. Herrick. It does knock out your faith in things to think a thing\nlike that can happen, but it's what's happened to her and me. We was\nkind of cracked about all children, and Miss Christina was certainly the\nmost stylish child I ever set eyes on!\"\n\"Father living?\" Herrick prompted.\n\"No, Mr. Herrick, no. And before he died, he got into business\ndifficulties himself, and he didn't leave enough to keep a bird alive. I\nhelped Mrs. Hope dispose of all the bric-a-brac, my paintings and all,\neverything that wasn't mortgaged, and they put it in with an aunt of Mr.\nHope's, a catamaran, and went to keeping a high-class boarding-house.\nWe're all apt to fall, Mr. Herrick. I've fallen myself.\"\n\"The boarding-house didn't succeed either, then?\"\n\"I ask you, how could it, with that battle-ax? She cheated my poor\nladies, and she bullied Miss Christina, and used to take the books she\nwas always reading and burn 'em up, and say nasty common things to her,\nwhen she got older, about the young gentlemen that were always on her\nheels even then, and that she'd like well enough, one day, and the next\nshe couldn't stand the sight of. If there's one thing Miss Christina\nhas, more than another, it's a high spirit; she has what I'd call a\nplenty of it. They had fierce fights. Often, when she'd come to me with\na little breastpin or other to pawn for her, so her and her mama'd have\na mite o' cash, she'd put her pretty head down on my wife's shoulder and\ncry; and my wife'd make her a cup o' tea. She'd say then she was going\nto run away and be an actress. And, when she was sixteen yet, she ran.\nTwo years afterward, her and her mama turned up in my first little\nflat-house; a cheap one, down Eighth Avenue, in the twenties. She was on\nthe stage, all right, and what a time she'd had! It'd been cruel, Mr.\nHerrick; cruel hard work and, just at the first, cruel little of it. But\nnow she's a leading lady. And this fall she's going to open in New York,\nin a big part. It's the play they call 'The Victors'; I guess you've\nheard. Mr. Wheeler, he's the star, and Miss Christina's part's better\nthan what his is. But now--\"\nThere was a pause. Mr. Deutch mopped his face, and Herrick, cogitating,\nbit his lip.\n\"This engagement to Ingham--\"\n\"She met him about two years ago, when she had her first leading part,\nand they went right off their heads about each other. I never expected I\nshould see Miss Christina act so regular loony over any man. But she\nrefused him time and again. She said she'd always been a curse to\nherself and she wasn't going to bring her curse on him. In the end, of\ncourse, she gave in. She said she'd marry him this winter, if he'd go\naway for the summer and leave her alone. You knew it was only day before\nyesterday he got back from Europe?\"\n\"Yes. I know.\"\n\"My wife and me have seen a lot more of her this summer than since she\nwas a little girl. There's been years at a time, all the while she was\non the road, that we wouldn't know if she was alive or dead. And then\nsome day I'd come home, and find her sitting in our apartment--it's a\nbasement apartment, Mr. Herrick!--as easy as if she'd just stepped\nacross the street. But I wouldn't like you should think it's Miss\nChristina's talked to us very much about her engagement. She's a pretty\nclose-mouthed girl, in her way, and a simply elegant lady. Not but what\nMrs. Hope is an elegant lady, too. But still she is--if you know what I\nmean--gabby! Miss Christina's always been a puzzle to her; and she's a\ngreat hand to sit and make guesses at her with my wife. Mr. Ingham left\na key with Miss Christina when he went abroad so she could come and play\nhis piano and read his books whenever it suited her, and she'd have a\nquiet place to study her part. Every once in a while Mrs. Hope would\ntake a notion it wasn't quite the proper thing she should come by\nherself. But after she'd seen her inside, she'd drop down our way and\nwait. She wasn't just exactly gone on Mr. Ingham, and my wife wasn't\neither.\"\nHerrick lifted his head with a flash of interest. \"Mrs. Hope opposed the\nmarriage?\"\n\"Well, not opposed. She never opposed the young lady in anything, when\nyou came down to it. But he wanted she should leave the stage. And he\nwasn't ever faithful to her, Mr. Herrick! For all he was so crazy about\nher and so wild-animal jealous of the very air she had to breathe, he\nwasn't ever faithful to her--and if ever you'd seen her, that'd make\nyour blood boil! She'd hear things; and he'd lie. And she'd believe him,\nand believe him! If it wasn't for his money, she'd be well rid of him,\nto my mind.\"\nHe sat nursing his wrath. And Herrick, still watching him, felt sorry.\nFor, in Herrick's mind it was now all so clear; so pitiably clear! Poor\nlittle chap!--he didn't know how scanty was the reassurance in his\nportrait of his Miss Christina! The indulged, imperious child, choosing\n\"her own\" friends; the unhappy, bold, bedeviled girl, already with young\nmen at her heels, whom she encouraged one day and flouted the next;\npawning her trinkets at sixteen and plunging alone into the world, the\nworld of the stage; the ambitious, adventurous woman capable of holding\nsuch a devotion as that of the good Deutch by so capricious and\nhigh-handed a return, snaring such a man of the world as Ingham by an\nadroit blending of abandon and retreat, putting up with the humiliations\nof his flagrant inconstancies only, perhaps, to find herself, after her\nstipulated summer alone, on the verge of losing him through his\ninsensate jealousy--were there no materials here for tragic quarrel? Was\nnot this the very figure that last night he had seen fling out an arm in\nunexampled passion and grace? In his heart he saw Christina Hope, while\nher betrothed, whether as accuser or accused, taunted her from the\npiano, kill James Ingham. And he profoundly knew that he had almost seen\nthis with his eyes. His pulse beat high; but it was with a sobered mind\nthat he beheld Mr. Deutch preparing to depart.\n\"Well, you see how I had to ask you, Mr. Herrick, not to say that lady's\nshadow made you think any of an actress?\"\n\"I do, indeed.\"\n\"There isn't any language can express how I thank you. But I know if\nonly you was acquainted with her--\" He had turned, in rising, to get his\nhat, and he now stopped short and exclaimed with bewildered reproach,\n\"Oh, well, now, Mr. Herrick! Why wouldn't you tell me?\"\n\"Tell you?\" Herrick's eyes followed his. They led to the likeness of his\nEvadne, of his dear Heroine. \"Tell you what?\"\n\"Why, that you _was_ acquainted with--\" said Mr. Deutch, extending his\nhat, as if in a magnificence of introduction, \"Christina Hope.\"\nHerrick could not speak. And Deutch added, \"You was acquainted with her,\nall along! It's a real old picture--'bout five years ago. You knew her\nthen? You knew her--And you--saw--\" His voice died away. His glance\nturned from Herrick's and traveled unwillingly to where, upon the blinds\ndrawn down again, across the street, it seemed to both men the shadow\nmust start forth. And, as he slowly withdrew his gaze, Herrick saw,\nlooking out at him from those soft, spaniel eyes, the eyes of fear.\nDeutch bowed bruskly and withdrew. Herrick was alone, as he had been\nthese many months, with the young challenge of his Heroine; the familiar\nface, long learned by heart, asking its innocent questions about life,\nshone softly out on him, in pride. And, on that August morning, he felt\nhis blood go cold.\nCHAPTER VII\nHERRICK HAS A BUSIEST DAY\nThere was a time coming when Herrick was to salute as prophetic what he\nnow noted with a grim amusement; that from the moment the shadow sprang\nupon the blind the current of his life was changed. Peopled, busy,\nadventurous, it had passed, as one might say, into active circulation.\nHe was suddenly in the center of the stage.\nThis was brought home to him rather sharply when Deutch had been not\nfive minutes gone. On the exit of that gentleman Herrick's first thought\nhad been for Miss Hope's photograph. Although an actress seems less a\nwoman than a type, yet, since, to any stray gossip, she was recognizable\nas a real person, she mustn't, at this critical time, be left hanging on\nhis wall to excite comment. He had scarcely laid the photograph on his\ndesk to compare it with a cut in one of the newspapers when information\nthat he was \"wanted on the 'phone\" made him drop the paper atop of his\ndethroned Heroine and hurry into the hall. And the place to which the\ntelephone invited him was the Ingham publishing house.\nThe message was from old Gideon Corey, the prop and counselor of the\nHouse of Ingham, father and son. It told Herrick that Ingham senior had\njust arrived in New York and had not yet gone to an hotel; he had turned\ninstinctively to his office, where he besought Herrick, whose name he\nhad recognized, to come to him and tell him what there was to tell. It\nwas only the piteous human longing to be brought nearer, by some detail,\nby some vision later than our own, to those to whom we shall never be\nnear again. Herrick flinched from the task, but there could be no\nquestion of his obedience; and he came out from that interview humbly,\nsoftened by the gentleness of such a grief. It seemed to him that he had\nnever seen so tender a dignity of reserve; that beautiful old gentleman\nwho had wished to question him had also wished to spare him; wished,\ntoo,--and taken the loyalest precautions--to spare some one else.\n\"I don't know if you are aware, Mr. Herrick,\" Ingham's father had said\nto him, \"that my son was engaged to be married?\"\n\"I had just heard--\"\n\"Then you will understand how especially painful it is that there should\nbe any mention of a--another lady--Miss Hope is a sweet girl,\" said the\nold gentleman, \"a sweet, good girl--\" He paused, as if he were feeling\nfor words delicate enough for what he had to say; and then a little\nbreath that was like a cry broke from him. \"My son was a wild boy, Mr.\nHerrick, but he loved her--he loved her! Will it be necessary to add to\nher grief by telling her that, at the very last, he was entertaining--?\nI wanted her for my daughter! May she not keep even the memory of my\nson?\"\nHerrick could have groaned aloud. \"Only tell me,\" he said, \"what can I\ndo?\"\n\"Mr. Ingham means to ask\"--Corey interposed--\"whether, at the--the\ninquest, it will be necessary to lay so much emphasis on that shadow you\nobserved?\"\nThus, for the second time that day, from what different mouths and under\nwhat different circumstances, came the same request! And there passed\nover Herrick that little shiver of the skin which takes place, the\ncountry people tell you, when some one steps over your grave.\n\"Could you not assume that you might have been mistaken? That it might\nhave been a man's shadow--?\"\n\"I was not mistaken--Why, look here!\" he continued, eagerly. \"Can't you\nsee that it would be the worst kind of a mistake for me to change now?\nThey'd think I'd heard who the woman was, and was trying to shield her!\nAnd, besides,\" he added to Corey, \"it's your only clue.\" It occurred to\nhim, as he spoke, that Ingham's family might be concerned for his\nreputation rather than for vengeance; this continued to seem probable\neven while they assured him that it was not the police, but Miss Hope\nalone, from whom they wished to keep the circumstance; they were\nthinking of what would have been the dead man's dearest wish. What she\nread in the papers they could perhaps deny; but what she heard at the\ninquest--\nWhen, however, they reluctantly agreed with him that it was too late for\nany effectual reticence it was with unabated kindliness that Corey went\nwith him into the hall. \"We remain infinitely obliged to you, Mr.\nHerrick, and--later on--we mustn't lose track of you again--Well,\ngood-morning! Good-morning!\"\nIt was nearly afternoon and Herrick stepped out from the dark,\nold-fashioned elevator into its sunny heat, which occasional spattering\nshowers had vainly tried to dissipate, with a very highly charged sense\nof moving among vivid personalities. Concerning two of these there\npersisted a certain lack of reassurance, and as that of Ingham\nbrightened or darkened the shadow herself now shone as a tigress\ndevouring, now an avenging angel. Sometimes her figure stood out\nclearly, by itself; sometimes it wavered and changed, and passed,\nwhether Herrick willed it or not, into the figure of Christina Hope.\nThen, whether for Deutch's or Ingham's sake, or for Evadne's, there was\nsomething oppressive in the sunshine.\nBut the young fellow was not enough of a hypocrite to pretend, even to\nhimself, that all this excitement, all this acquaintance with swift\nevents, with salient people under the influence of strong emotion, all\nthis quick, warm, and strong feeling which had been aroused in himself,\nwere anything but very welcome. Nor were his adventures over yet. His\nwalk brought him, with a thoughtful forehead but all in a breathing glow\nof interest, to City Hall Park; a spot where he had loitered that summer\na score of times, wearying vaguely for a friendly face. To-day, his\nbrisk step had scarcely carried him within its boundaries before he\nheard his name called and, turning, was accosted by a _Record_\nacquaintance of six years ago whose recognition displayed the utmost\neagerness.\nThe spirit of New York City, which had hitherto considered him merely\none of her returned failures, had now made up her mind to show what she\ncould do for such a darling as the near-eye-witness of a murder. He\nfound himself hailed into the office of the _Record_, whence they had\nbeen madly telephoning him this long while, and immediately\ncommissioned, at the price of a high, temporary specialist, to report\nthe Ingham inquest, and to write a Sunday special of the murder!\nHe thought of Ingham's father, and \"It isn't a tasty job!\" he said to\nhis old chief. But it swept upon him what material it was; it felt, in\nhis empty hand, like the key of success; and then, there is always in\nour ears at such a time the whisper that it will certainly be done by\nsomebody. \"And never, surely,\" Herrick wrote his sister that night, \"so\nchastely, so justly, with either such dash or such discretion, as by our\nelegant selves!\"\nThis, at least, was the view which the Ingham office took of it. Corey\nreported the family as glad to leave it in Herrick's hands; while a\ntremor at once of regret, pleasure and superstition pricked over\nHerrick's nerves as Corey followed up this statement with an invitation\nthrough the _Record_ phone to meet him at the Pilgrims' Club and talk\nsome things over during lunch!\n\"To shake the iron hand of Fate\" was becoming so much the rule that\nHerrick was nearly capable of feeling gripped by it even in the somewhat\nremote circumstances that the Pilgrims' had been founded as a club of\nactors and, overrun as it was by men of all professions and particularly\nliterary men, it had remained essentially a club of actors--while he,\nBryce Herrick, hastening toward it through a smart shower, had at first\nconceived of his novel as a play and then, in Switzerland, been baffled\nby the inaccessibility of that world! His novel, of whom the heroine had\nbeen so unwittingly Christina Hope!--However, the low, wide portals of\nthe Pilgrims' received him under their great, wrought iron lanterns\nwithout excitement and he passed, self-consciously and with a certain\nshyness, into the cooling twilight of a hallway still perfectly calm and\nover the lustrous, glinting sweeps of easy and quite indifferent stairs\nup to an \"apartment brown and booklined\" that looked out on a green\npark.\nAt one of the windows Corey stood talking to a dark, heavy, vigorous man\nwhose face was familiar to Herrick and whom Corey introduced as Robert\nWheeler. It was a name of note but Herrick bewilderedly exclaimed \"Miss\nHope's manager?\" Two or three men turned to Wheeler and grinned and he,\nhimself, said with a gruff chuckle, yes, he supposed it had come to\nthat, already! Herrick's embarrassed tactlessness sought refuge in\nlooking out of doors.\nThe famous square had kept its ancient privacy secure from all the\ncity's noise and hurry. It was still, secluded; self-sufficient with an\nold-world grace; and the green park shone fresh after the shower, its\nflower beds and the window boxes of its grave, dark houses gave out a\ndelicate, glimmering sparkle along with their moist and newly piercing\nsweetness. Nothing could have been more tranquil except the cool spaces,\nthe dusky, sunny, airy, oak-hued shadows of the wide-windowed\nclub--neither could anything have been less like Mrs. Grubey's or even\nProfessor Herrick's idea of what an actors' club would be. The whole\nplace seemed to rebuke its visitor, more graciously than had Hermann\nDeutch, for the feverish suggestion which Christina's calling had hinted\nround her name. The blithe young gentlemen in light clothes, fussing\nover with cigarette smoke and real and unreal English accents, the older\nmen, less saddled and bridled and fit for the fray but still with\nsomething at once lazy and boyish in the quick sensibility of their\nfaces, appeared to have no very lurid intensities up their sleeve and\namid so much serene and humorous assurance Ingham senior's \"sweet, good\ngirl,\" Hermann Deutch's \"Miss Christina\" seemed better founded in kind\nand credible probabilities. She bloomed, indeed, hedged with all\nproprieties in the sound of Wheeler's voice saying, \"But must Miss Hope\nappear at the inquest?\"\n\"Yes,\" said Corey, tartly, \"since her name will add to its notoriety!\nHave you forgotten our coroner?\" Wheeler lifted his thick brows in\nannoyance and with the same sourness of inflection Corey added, \"Is it\npossible any corner of the universe can for a moment forget Cuyler Ten\nEuyck!\"\nHerrick started and looked at the two men with quick eagerness. \"You\ndon't mean--\"\n\"Precisely! The mighty in high places--Peter Winthrop Brewster Cuyler\nTen Euyck! No less!\"\nWheeler broke into a curse and then into his deep laugh, and said Miss\nHope's manager would do well to clear out before any Sherlock Holmes\nwith wings got to throwing his mouth around here. \"I can stand his\nalways bringing down a curtain with 'Seventy times a millionaire--the\nworld is at my feet!' A man has to believe in something! But it's his\ntaking himself for a tin District-Attorney-on-wheels that'll get his\npoor jaw broken one of these days!\"\nHerrick's curiosity was roused to certain reminiscences and he went on\nputting them together even while he followed Corey downstairs and out\nonto an open gallery whose tables overlooked a little garden. As soon\nas the waiter left them he asked Corey, \"But--I've been so long\naway--this coroner can't be the same Ten Euyck--\"\n\"Can you think there are two?\"\nWell, the world is certainly full of entertainment! A man born to one of\nthe proudest names and greatest fortunes of his time serving as\ncoroner--coroner! That was what certain references of McGarrigle's\nmeant, certain newspaper flippancies. \"Mr. Ten Euyck!\" Herrick's extreme\nyouth had witnessed the historic thrill that shook society when the full\nsignificance of the great creature's visiting-cards first burst upon a\nstartled and ingenuous nation! But even then Mr. Ten Euyck must have\naspired beyond social thrills and seen himself as a man of parts and\npublic conscience. It was not so much later that Herrick remembered him\nas a literary dabbler, an amateur statesman, endeavoring by means of\nelegant Ciceronics to waken his class to its duty as leader of the\npeople! He had then seemed merely a solemn ass who, having learned\nduring a long residence abroad an aristocratic notion of government,\ntook his caste and its duties much too seriously.--\"But why coroner?\"\nDespair, apparently, over that caste's lack of seriousness! There had\nbeen talk of abolishing the coronership, Corey said, and Ten Euyck had\nrun for it. If irresponsible idlers dared to slight even the presidency\nin their choice of careers let them see what could be done with the\nleast considerable of offices! If younger sons dared lessen class-power\nby neglecting government, let them see to what Mr. Ten Euyck could\ncondescend in the public service! It was an old-fashioned, an old-world\nambition; the man, essentially stiff-necked, essentially egotistical,\nwas in no sense a reformer. \"He pushes his office, upon my word, to the\ndiversion of the whole town; holding court, if you please, as if he were\nlaunching a thunderbolt, making speeches and denunciations, and taking\nhimself for a kind of District Attorney.--I may as well say, Mr.\nHerrick, that it's a black bitterness to me that that pretentious puppy\nshould have authority in--in dealing with Mr. James. There was never\nanything cordial between them; in fact, quite the contrary. We refused a\nbook of his once!\"\n\"But, great heavens,--\"\n\"It was a book of plays, Mr. Herrick; blank verse and Roman\nsoldiery--with orations! I don't deny Mr. James's letter was a trifle\nsaucy; he was often not conciliating; no, not conciliating! Well, now,\nit's Ten Euyck's turn. If he can soil Mr. James's memory in Miss Hope's\neyes, why, that will be just to his taste, believe me. Now I come to\nthink of it, I believe Miss Hope herself is rather in his black books!\nIt seems to me she once took part in one of the plays, and it failed. I\ntell you all this, Mr. Herrick, because James Ingham had the highest\nadmiration for you, and had great pleasure in the hope of bringing out\nyour novel.\"\nHerrick gaped at him in an astonishment which had not so much as become\narticulate before--such is our mortal frailty--his slight, but hitherto\npersistent, repulsion from the dead man was shaken to its foundation and\nmoldered in dust away.\n\"Yes, when we are ourselves again, you must bring in that manuscript.\nYes, yes, he wished it! They were almost the last words I had from him.\nHe was very pleased to get your letter, very pleased. He was talking\nabout it to Stanley, his young brother, and to me; we were all there\nyesterday--think of it, Mr. Herrick, yesterday!--working out his ideas\nfor our new Weekly. He was always an enthusiast, a keen enthusiast, and\nthe Weekly was his latest enthusiasm. Its politics would have been very\ndifferent from Mr. Ten Euyck's--\"\nA friendly visage at another table favored them with a sidelong\ncontortion and a warning wink. Just behind them a shrewd voice ceased\nabruptly and a metallic tone responded, \"Yes, but you--you're a man with\na mania!\"\nThe first voice replied, \"Well, you're down on criminals and I'm down on\ncrime.\"\nThen Ten Euyck's was again lifted. \"You're out after a criminal whom you\nthink corrupting and to wipe him out you'll pass by fifty of the\nplainest personal guilt! In my view nobody but the corruptible is\ncorrupted. Any person who commits a crime belongs in the criminal\nclass.\"\n\"Crime may end in the criminal class,\" the other voice took up the\nchallenge, \"but it begins at home. You can't always pounce upon the\ndecayed core. But if you observe a very little speck on a healthy\nsurface, one of two things--either you can cut it away and save the\napple, or your tunneling will lead you farther and farther in, it will\nopen wider and wider and the speck will vanish, automatically, because\nthe whole rotten fruit will fall open in your hand.\"\n\"Delightful, when it does! But in this short life I prefer the pounce!\"\nBy this time everybody was harkening and Herrick ventured to turn his\nchair and look round. He beheld a sallow man, nearer forty than thirty\nand as tall as himself or taller, but of a straighter and stiffer\nheight; with a long head, a long handsome nose and chin, long hands and\nlong ears. This elongated countenance was not without contradictions.\nUnder the sparse, squarely cut mustache Herrick was surprised to find\nthe lips a little pouting, and the glossily black eyes were prominent\nand full. Fastidiously as he was dressed there persisted something\nfunereal in the effect; forward of each ear a shadow of clipped whisker\nleant him the dignity of a daguerreotype. He spoke neatly, distinctly.\nHis excellent, strong voice was dry, cold and inflexible. On the whole\nHerrick's easy and contemptuous amusement received a slight set-back.\n\"I prefer the pounce!\" To be pounced upon by that bony intensity might\nnot be amusing at all!\nThen he discovered what had changed his point of view: it had shifted a\ntrifle toward the criminal's! All very well for Ten Euyck's\nguest--Herrick had somehow gathered that the other man was a guest--to\ngive up the argument, indifferently refusing to play up to his host! All\nvery well for the free-hearted lunchers to sit, diverted, getting\noratorical pointers from the monologue into which Ten Euyck had plunged!\nIt was neither the lunchers nor the guest, but Herrick who must,\nto-morrow morning, appear as a witness before Ten Euyck! He would have\nto tell the man something which the Inghams had asked him not to tell\nbecause it might prove prejudicial to James Ingham--his admirer--which\nHermann Deutch had asked him not to tell because it might prove\nprejudicial to Christina Hope--she whose face had been his heart's\ncompanion through hard and lonely times! The idea of the inquest had\nbecome exceedingly disagreeable to Herrick.\nAnd the more he listened to Ten Euyck, the more disagreeable it became;\nthe more he felt that a derisive audience had underestimated its man.\nTen Euyck might take himself too seriously; he might show too small a\nsense of the ridiculous in loudly delivering, at luncheon, a sort of\nOration-on-the-Respect-of-Law-in-Great-Cities. But this depended on\nwhether you considered him as a man or a trap. The real quality in a\ntrap is not a sense of the ridiculous nor a delicate repugnance to\ntaking itself seriously. Its real quality is the ability to catch\nthings. And, as a trap, Herrick began to feel that Ten Euyck was made\nfor success.\nThe new-born criminal actually felt an impulse to warn his unknown\naccomplice how trivial gossip had been, how blind the public gaze.\nPlatitudes about law, yes. But, when the orator came to dealing with the\nlawless, the whole man awoke. Those who broke the rules of the world's\ngame and yet struggled not to lose it were to him mere despicable\nimpertinents whose existence at large was an outrage to self-respecting\nplayers and for what he despised he found excellent cold thrusts and\neven a kind of homely and savage humor. Then, indeed, \"it was not blood\nwhich ran in his veins, but iced wine.\" Why, he was right to think of\nhimself as a prosecutor--he was born a prosecutor! In unconsciously\nassuming the robes of justice he had simply found himself. To him\njustice meant punishment, punishment an ideal vocation for the righteous\nand life a thing continually coming up before him to be weighed, found\nwanting and rebuked. To admonish, to blame, and then--with a spring--to\ncrush--it is a passion which grows by what it feeds on, so that even Ten\nEuyck's jests had become corrections and the whole creature admirably of\none piece, untorn by conflicting beliefs and inaccessible to reason,\nprovocation, pity or consequences; because illegal actions--ideas, too,\ndaily spreading--must be suppressed at all costs by proper persons and\nthe patriarchal arrangement of the world rebuilt over the body of a\nrebel.--Of course, as his cowed analyst admitted, with P. W. B. C. Ten\nEuyck on top! Thank heaven the monster had one weak spot! As he jibed at\na newspaper cartoon of the coroner's office he displayed fully the\nsymptom of his disease; a raging fever of egotism. He was one to die of\na laugh and Herrick doubted if he could have survived a losing game.\nBut when was he likely to lose? Not when, as now, he lifted the bugle of\na universal summons, calling expertly on a primitive instinct. Your\naristocrat may be a fool and a bore in your own workshop, but he is the\nhereditary leader of the chase; his mounted figure convinces you he will\nrun down the fugitive and in the minds of men the weight of his millions\nadd themselves, automatically, to his hand. This huntsman had branched\noff to the importance of motive in murder trials and his audience was\nnot smiling, now. It had warmed itself at his cold fire and the\nexcitement of the hunt was in the air. Ten Euyck always uttered the word\n\"crime\" with a gusto that spat it forth, indeed, but richly scrunched;\nand it was a day on which that word could not but start an electrical\ncontagion. Nothing definite was said, in Corey's presence; still less\nwas a name named--nor was any needed. But a sense of gathering issues,\nof closing in on some breathless revelation thickened in the heating,\nthrilling, restive atmosphere till a boy's voice said languidly, \"Lead\nme to the air, Reginald! This is too rich for my blood!\" and they all\ndropped the wet blanket of a shamefaced relief upon the coroner's\ninconsiderate eloquence. The quiet guest got suddenly to his feet and\nbore his host away.\nIn a tone of tremulous scorn Corey said to Herrick, \"He's grown a\nmustache, you see, because Kane wears one!\"\n\"Kane?\"\n\"You've no nose for celebrities! Ten Euyck brought him here to-day to\npose before him as a literary man and before us as a political lion. But\nour coroner's founded himself on Gerrish so long I don't know what'll\nbecome of him now we've got a District-Attorney who has no particular\nappetite for the scalps of women!\"\nKane! So the District-Attorney was the quiet guest! To Herrick's roused\napprehension Kane might just as well have been brought there to be\npresented with any chance mention which might indicate some circumstance\nconnected with last night. And he understood too well the allusion to\nGerrish, a District-Attorney of the past whose successful prosecutions\nhad made a speciality of women; who had never delegated, who had always\nprosecuted with especial and eloquent ardor, any case in which the\ndefendant was a woman, whether notorious or desperate. Herrick could\nscarcely restrain a whistle; this did indeed promise a lively inquest!\nHeaven help the lady of the shadow if this imitation prosecutor should\nnose her out! It was, perhaps, an immoral exclamation. Yet all the\nafternoon, as Herrick worked on his story for the _Record_, he could not\nrout his distaste for his own evidence.\nEven after his late and imposing lunch he brought himself to a cheap and\nearly dinner, rather than go back to the Grubey flat. He affected, when\nhe found himself downtown, a little Italian table d'h\u00f4te in the\nneighborhood of Washington Square; much frequented by foreign laborers\nand so humble that a plaintive and stocky dog, a couple of peremptory\ncats, and two or three staggering infants with seraphic eyes and a\nchronic lack of handkerchiefs or garters generally lolled about the\nbeaten earth of the back yard, where the tables were spread under a\ntent-like sail-cloth. It was all quaint and foreign and easy; and, so\nfar as might be, it was cool; on occasions, the swarthy _dame de\ncomptoir_ was replaced by a spare, square, gray-haired woman, small and\nneat and Yankee, whom it greatly diverted Herrick to see at home in such\nsurroundings; a little gray parrot, looking exactly like her, climbed\nand see-sawed about her desk; a vine waved along the fence; the late sun\nflickered on the clean coarseness of the table-cloths and jeweled them,\nthrough the bottles of thin wine, with ruby glories; there was a\nworthless, poverty-stricken charm about the place, and Herrick sat\nthere, early and alone, smiling to himself with, after all, a certain\nsense of satisfying busyness and of having come home to life again.\nHe had little enough wish to return to his close room where his\nperplexities would be waiting for him and he lingered after dinner,\npracticing his one-syllable Italian on Maria Rosa, the little eldest\ndaughter of the house, who trotted back and forth bearing tall glasses\nof branching bread-sticks and plates of garnished sausage to where her\nmother was setting a long table for some f\u00eate, and, when the guests\nbegan to come, he still waited in his corner, idly watching.\nThey were all men and all poor, but all lively; there was an almost\nfeminine sweetness in the gallantry of the Latin effervescence with\nwhich they passed a loving-cup in some general ceremony. And no woman\ncould have been more beautiful than the tall Sicilian whose grave\nstateliness, a little stern from the furrowing of brows still touched\nwith Saracen blood, faced Herrick from the table's farther end. Herrick\neven inquired, as he paid his check, who this imposing creature was and\nthe Yankee woman replied with unconcern that he was Mr. Gumama, who ran\na pool-game at the barber's.\nIt charmed Herrick to combine this name and occupation with the fervent\nkisses which Mr. Gumama, rising majestically and swooping to the nearer\nend of the table, implanted, one on each cheek, upon the hero of the\nf\u00eate. All the guests, as each finished the ceremonial draught, followed\nhis example. None of the rest, however, had Saracen brows, nor long,\ngrim earrings whose fringe swing beneath three stories of gilt squares.\nThe Yankee woman turned contemptuously from \"such monkey-shines,\" but\nHerrick lingered till the last kiss and as he even then walked home\nthrough the hot cloudy night it was after nine o'clock before he reached\nthere. He had not been in since morning and he was greatly to blame. For\nhe had had a caller and the caller was Cuyler Ten Euyck!\nThe Grubeys were greatly excited by this circumstance and it excited\nHerrick, too. The coroner had himself examined Ingham's apartment and\nthen the conscientious creature had climbed the stairs to Herrick's. He\nhad even waited in the hope that his witness might return. All this was\nproudly poured forth while Herrick was also asked to examine a rival\npublic interest--a most peculiar prize which the corner saloon-keeper's\nson had been awarded at a private school; he had loaned it to Johnnie\nGrubey for twenty-four hours if Johnnie would let him see the revolver\nwith which Herrick would have shot the murderer last night if the\nmurderer had been there! It was a sort of return in kind; for the\nschool prize was also a revolver.\nIt was a very little one and Johnnie insisted that it was solid gold. On\nthe handle was a monogram of three capital A's in small bright stones,\nwhite, green and red--near them a straggling C had been wantonly\nscratched. Johnnie averred that the A's stood for Algebra, Astronomy and\nArt-Drawing and even had the combination of studies for one prize been\nless remarkable Herrick would have suspected that the boy was lying.\nWhat he suspected he hardly knew; still less when he discovered that\nthis unwontedly sympathetic prize was, after all, a fake. The little\ngolden pistol was not a pistol, but a curiously pointless trinket--the\ncylinder was nothing but a sculptured suggestion; the toy was made all\nin one piece!--\"D'yeh ever see the like?\" Mrs. Grubey asked him. And he\nnever had. It was quainter than Mr. Gumama's kisses.\nBut Herrick's head was full of other things. As he opened his door he\ngrinned to think of that aristocratic scion waiting in his humble\nbedroom. Well, it had been a great day! Even if he had lost heart for\nthat taxi-ride up the river with Evadne! And then from long habit, he\nglanced at Evadne's empty place.\nThe picture had left an unfaded spot on the wall-paper. \"I suppose I\nmight add 'And on my heart!'\" said Herrick. He lifted the concealing\nnewspaper. Then he went out and made inquiries. No one but Ten Euyck and\nMrs. Grubey had been in the room nor had Mrs. Grubey noticed that the\npicture had been moved. Now Herrick was certain he had left the likeness\nunder the newspaper, lying face up. It was still under the newspaper,\nbut face down. He said to himself, with a shrug of annoyance, that the\ncoroner had made good use of his time.\nCHAPTER VIII\nMRS. WILLING TELLS WHAT SHE KNOWS\nThe morning of the inquest was cloudy, with a wet wind. Herrick was\nnervous, and he could not be sure whether this nervousness sprang from\nthe ardor of championship or accusation. But one thing was clear.\nChristina Hope had slain Evadne and closed his mouth to Sal; but, at\nlast, he was to see her, face to face.\nShe was there when he arrived, sitting in a corner with her mother.\nHerrick recognized her at once, but with a horrid pang of\ndisappointment. Was this his Diana of the Winds? Or yet his Destroying\nAngel? This was only a tall quiet girl in a gray gown. To be more exact\nit was a gray ratine suit, with a broad white collar, and her small gray\nhat seemed to fold itself close in to the shape of her little head; the\nlow coil of her hair was very smooth. Herrick observed with something\noddly akin to satisfaction that he had been right about her\ncoloring--there were the fair skin, the brown hair, the eyes cool as\ngray water. Under these to-day there were dark shadows and her face was\nshockingly pale.\nThe first witness called was a Doctor Andrews. After the preliminary\nquestions as to name, age, and so forth, he was asked, \"You reside in\nthe Van Dam Apartments?\"\n\"I do.\"\n\"On what floor?\"\n\"The ninth.\"\n\"On the night of August fifth did you hear any unusual sounds?\"\n\"Not until I heard the pistol-shot--that is, except Mr. Ingham, playing\nhis piano--if you could call that unusual.\"\n\"He often played late at night?\"\n\"He had been away during the summer; but, before that, there was a great\ndeal of complaint. He gave a great many supper-parties; at the same\ntime, he was such a charming fellow that people forgave him whenever he\nwished. Besides, he was a magnificent musician.\"\n\"Were there ladies at these supper-parties?\"\n\"Not to my personal knowledge.\"\n\"What did you do, Dr. Andrews, when you heard the shot?\"\n\"I looked out of the window, and saw nothing. I thought I might have\nbeen mistaken; it might have been a tire bursting. But I noticed that\nthe piano had stopped.\"\nAfter the shot the witness had remained restless.\n\"Presently I thought I heard some one hammering. I got up again and\nopened the door and then I heard it distinctly. I know now that it was\nthe efforts of Mr. Herrick to break Ingham's lock with a revolver. I\ncould hear a mixture of sounds--movements. I went back and began to get\nmy clothes on and when I was nearly dressed my 'phone rang.\"\n\"Tell us what it said.\"\n\"It was the voice of the superintendent saying, 'Please come down to 4-B\nin a hurry, Dr. Andrews. Mr. Ingham's shot himself.'\"\n\"And you went?\"\n\"Immediately.\"\n\"He was dead on your arrival?\"\n\"Quite.\"\n\"How long should you, as a physician, say it was since death occurred?\"\n\"Not more than fifteen or twenty minutes.\"\n\"Had the death been instantaneous?\"\n\"Certainly. He was shot through the heart.\"\n\"Then, in your opinion, if the deceased had taken his own life, he could\nnot have sprung off the electric lights, nor in any fashion done away\nwith the weapon, after the shot.\"\n\"He certainly could not.\"\n\"In your professional opinion, then, he did not commit suicide?\"\n\"There is no question of an opinion. I know he did not.\"\n\"You are very positive, Dr. Andrews?\"\n\"Absolutely positive. Death was instantaneous. Also, there was no powder\nabout the wound, showing that the shot had been fired from a distance of\nfour feet or more. Also, the body did not lie where it had fallen.\"\n\"How do you know that?\"\n\"There was a little puddle of blood in the sitting-room, where Ingham\nfell. Your physician and myself called the attention of the police to\nmarks on the rugs following a trail of drops of blood into the bedroom\nwhere the body was found.\"\n\"You do not think that the deceased could have crawled or staggered\nthere, after the shooting?\"\n\"I do not.\"\n\"You believe that the body was dragged there, after death?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"You remained with the body until the arrival of myself and Doctor\nShippe?\"\n\"I did.\"\n\"Dr. Andrews, the apartment in which the shooting occurred had no access\nto the windows of any other apartment, no fire-escape, and no means of\negress except through a door which was found bolted on the inside.\nSuppose that a murder was committed. Have you any theory accounting for\nthe murderer's escape?\"\n\"None whatever.\"\n\"And does not the absence of all apparent means of escape shake your\ntheory of the impossibility of suicide?\"\n\"Not in the least. It is unshakable.\"\n\"Thank you. That will do.\"\nThe coroner's physician confirmed Dr. Andrews in every particular. The\ncoroner settled back and seemed to pause. And the listeners drew a long\nbreath. Something at least had been decided. It was not suicide. It was\nmurder.\nThis had been established so completely and so early in the examination\nthat Herrick found himself impressed with the idea of the coroner's\nknowing pretty distinctly what he was about. It seemed that he might\nvery well have some theory to establish, for which, in the first place,\nhe had now cleared the ground. Herrick stole a glance at Deutch. His\nface was wet and colorless, and his eyes fixed on vacancy. And then,\ncurious to note the effect of hearing her lover proclaimed foully\nmurdered, he permitted himself the cruelty of looking at Miss Hope.\nApparently it had no effect on her at all. Her mother, a slight,\nhandsome woman, very fashionably turned out, followed eagerly every\nsuggestion of the evidence. But the girl still sat with lowered eyes.\nThe next evidence, that of the police, threw no further light; and then\ncame the tremulous Theodore of Herrick's acquaintance whose surname\ntranspired as Bird.\nBird, too, had been awake and had heard the shot; he had been fully\naware from the first that it was a pistol-shot. He and Mrs. Bird had\nrisen and put up the chain on their door, and then he had telephoned to\nthe superintendent.\n\"Did the hall-boy connect you at once?\"\n\"It isn't the hall-boy. It's the night-elevator-boy.\"\n\"Well, did the night-elevator-boy connect you at once?\"\n\"No, I was a long time getting him.\"\n\"The boy?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"Ah! He, at least, was able to sleep. But, after you got him, was your\nconnection with the superintendent immediate?\"\n\"Almost immediate, I guess.\"\n\"It didn't strike you that he was purposely delaying?\"\nThe listeners leaned forward. And Herrick, as at a touch home, dropped\nhis eyes.\n\"Why, I couldn't say that it did. No, hardly. Besides, he might have\nbeen asleep, too.\"\n\"Ah! So he might. And what was the first thing he said to you?\"\n\"Through the 'phone?\"\n\"Certainly. Through the 'phone.\"\n\"He said, 'What is it?'\" (Slight laughter from the crowd.)\n\"Well? Go on!\"\n\"I said, 'Excuse me. But I heard a shot just now, in 4-B.' And he said,\n'A pistol-shot?' And I said, 'Yes.' And he said, 'Do you think somebody\nhas got hurt?' And I said, 'I'm afraid so.' Then he said, 'Well, I'll\ncome up.'\"\n\"Did he seem excited?\"\n\"Not so much as I was.\"\nMrs. Bird, though she described at some length her forethought in\ndressing and getting their valuables together, had nothing material to\nadd. Nor had the widow and her son in the apartment below that in which\nthe catastrophe took place; nor the couple, Mr. and Mrs. Willing, in the\napartment across the court which had been invaded as a look-out station\nby the police, anything further to relate; until, indeed, the lady\nstumbled upon the phrase--\"The party had been going on for some time.\"\n\"What? Yes.\"\n\"What made you think there was a party going on in 4-B?\"\n\"There were voices. And then he often had them.\"\n\"Did you, as a near neighbor, ever observe that there were any ladies at\nthese parties?\"\n\"I wouldn't like to say.\"\n\"I see. Well, on this occasion, how many voices were there?\"\n\"I don't know.\"\n\"About how many? Two? A dozen? Twenty?\"\n\"Oh, not many at all. There was poor Mr. Ingham's voice, nearly all the\ntime. And maybe a couple of others. I was in my bedroom, trying to\nsleep, and the piano was going all the time.\"\n\"I see. So there may have been two or three persons besides Mr. Ingham,\nand there may have been only one?\"\n\"Yes, sir. At times I was pretty sure I heard another voice. I mean a\nthird one, anyhow.\"\n\"Was it a man's voice or a woman's?\"\n\"I don't know.\"\n\"Could you swear you heard a third voice at all?\"\n\"Well, I don't believe I could exactly. No.\"\n\"Now, Mrs. Willing, I want you to be very careful. And I want you to try\nand remember. Please tell exactly all that you can remember about what I\nam going to ask you and nothing more.\"\n\"Oh, now, you're frightening me dreadfully.\"\n\"I don't want to frighten you. But I do want you to think. Now. You are\ncertain you heard at least two voices?\"\n\"Yes, I am, I--\"\n\"Mr. Ingham's and one other?\"\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\"Was that other voice the voice of a man?\"\n\"No, sir.\"\n\"It was a woman's voice?\"\n\"I--I suppose so.\"\n\"Aren't you sure?\"\n\"Well, yes, I am.\"\n\"Was it angry, excited?\"\n\"Toward the end it was.\"\n\"As if the speaker were losing control of herself?\"\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\"Now, Mrs. Willing, had you ever heard it before?\"\n\"The woman's voice?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"I can't be sure.\"\n\"What do you think?\"\n\"Well, I thought I had, yes. I told Mr. Willing so. He'd been to a\nbridge party upstairs and he came down just along there.\"\n\"You recognized it then?\"\n\"Well, toward the end I thought I did; yes.\"\n\"Mrs. Willing, whose was that voice?\"\n\"Oh, sir,--I--I'd rather not say!\"\n\"You must say, Mrs. Willing.\"\n\"Well, then, I'll just say I don't know.\"\n\"That won't do, Mrs. Willing.--When you told your husband that you\nthought you recognized that voice, exactly what did you say?\"\n\"Well, I said--oh!--I--Well, what I said was 'That's that actress he's\nengaged to in there with him.'\"\n\"Ah!--And, now, I suppose you know the name of the actress he was\nengaged to?\"\n\"Yes, of course. She's Miss Hope. Christina Hope her name is. Of course,\nI haven't said I was sure!\"\n\"Thank you. That will do.\"\nCHAPTER IX\nJOE PATRICK IS DETAINED\nA thrill shook the assemblage. It was plain enough now to what goal was\nthe coroner directing his inquiry. The covert curiosity which all along\nhad been greedily eyeing Christina Hope stiffened instantly into a wall,\ndividing her from the rest of her kind. She had become something\nsinister, set apart under a suspended doom, like some newly caught wild\nanimal on exhibition before them in its cage. Through the general gasp\nand rustle, Herrick was aware of Deutch slightly bounding and then\ncollapsing in his seat, with a muffled croak. His wife frowned; clucking\nindignant sympathy, she looked with open championship at the suspected\ngirl. Mrs. Hope started up with a little cry; Herrick judged that she\nwas much more angry than frightened. When the coroner said, \"You will\nhave your chance to speak presently, Mrs. Hope,\" she dropped back with\nexclamations of fond resentment, and taking her daughter's hand, pressed\nit lovingly. Christina alone, a sedate and sober-suited lily, maintained\nher composure intact.\nBut, now, for the first time, she lifted her head and slowly fixed a\nlong, grave look upon the coroner. There was no anger in this look. It\nwas the expression of a very good and very serious child who regards\nearnestly, but without sympathy, some unseemly antic of its elders. Once\nshe had fixed this gaze upon the coroner's face, she kept it there.\nIn that devout decorum of expression and in the outline of her exact\nprofile occasioned by her change of attitude, Herrick began once more\nto see the youthful candor of his Evadne. Yes, there _was_ something\nroyally childlike in that round chin and softly rounded cheek, in that\nobstinate yet all too sensitive lip, and that clear brow. Yes, thus\nexpectant and motionless, she was still strangely like a tall little\ngirl. Where did the coroner get his certainty? By God, he was branding\nher!--\"Mr. Bryce Herrick,\" the coroner called.\nThe young man was aware at once of being a local celebrity. His evidence\nwas to be one of the treats of the day. Not even the attack upon\nChristina had created a much greater stir. He took his place; and, \"At\nlast,\" said the coroner, \"we are, I believe, to hear from somebody who\nsaw _something_.\"\nHerrick told his story almost without interruption. He was listened to\nin flattering silence; the young author had never had a public which\nhung so intently on his words. The silence upon which he finished was\nstill hungry.\nThe coroner drew a long breath. \"We're greatly obliged to you, Mr.\nHerrick. And now let us get this thing straight. It was one o'clock or\nthereabouts that Mr. Ingham began to play?\"\nThey established the time and they went over every minutest detail of\nchanging spirit in Ingham's music.\n\"That crash which waked you for the second time--do you think it could\nhave been occasioned by an attack on Mr. Ingham?--that he may have been\nstruck and thrown against the piano?\"\n\"Oh, not at all. It was a perfectly deliberate discord, a kind of\nhellish eloquence.\"\n\"Ah! I'm obliged to you for that phrase, Mr. Herrick.\" And again he was\nasked--\"That gesture which so greatly impressed you--do you think you\ncould repeat it for us?\"\nHerrick quelled the impulse to reply, \"Not without making a damned fool\nof myself,\" and substituted, \"I can describe it.\"\n\"Kindly do so.\"\n\"She threw her arm high up, as high as it would go, but at a very wide\nangle from her body, and at that time her hand was clenched. But while\nthe arm was still stretched out, she slowly opened her fingers, as if\nthey were of some stiff mechanism--and it seemed to me that it was the\nviolence of her feeling they were stiff with--until the whole hand was\nopen, like a stretched gauntlet.\"\n\"Well, and then, when she took down her hand?\"\n\"She drew it in toward her quickly; I had an idea she might have covered\nher face.\"\n\"And then she disappeared?\"\n\"Yes; but she seemed to dip a little forward.\"\n\"As if to pick something up?\"\n\"Well, not as much as from the floor; no.\"\n\"From a chair, then, or the couch?\"\n\"Possibly.\"\n\"She would, standing at the window, have been some five or six feet from\nthe piano, where Ingham sat?\"\n\"I should say about that.\"\n\"Mr. Herrick, are you absolutely sure that this was not until after the\nshooting?--this forward dip?\"\n\"After? No, it was before!\"\n\"Ah--And directly after the shot the lights went out?\"\n\"Directly after. Almost as if the shot had put them out.\"\n\"Now, Mr. Herrick, you have testified that from, as you say, the vague\noutline of the hair and shoulders and the slope of her skirts, and from\nthe fact that when she raised her arm there was a bit of lace, or\nsomething of the kind, hanging from her sleeve, you were perfectly sure\nthat this shadow was the shadow of a woman. Yet you still could not in\nthe least determine anything whatever of her appearance. That I can\nquite understand. But didn't you gather, nevertheless, some notion of\nher personality?\"\nHerrick avoided Deutch's eye. He said--\"I don't think so.\"\n\"That extraordinary movement, then, did not leave upon you a very\ndistinct impression?\"\n\"In what way?\"\n\"An impression of a lady not much concerned with social constraint or\nemotional control; and of a very great habitual ease and flexibility in\nmovement.\"\nHerrick managed to smile. \"I'm afraid I'm no such observer as all that.\nPerhaps any lady, within sixty seconds of committing murder, is a little\nindifferent to social constraint.\"\nThe coroner looked at him with a slight change of expression. \"Well,\nthen, let us put it another way. You would not expect to see your\nmother, or your sister, or any lady of your own class, make such a\ngesture? No? Yet you must often have seen an actress do so?\"\n\"That doesn't follow!\" Herrick said. His flush resented for Christina\nthe slur that his words overlooked. And suddenly words escaped him. \"You\nanswered the previous question yourself, remember! Be kind enough not to\nconfuse my evidence with yours!\"\nThe coroner studied him a long time without speaking, while the young\nman's color continued to rise, and at length came the comment, \"I'm not\nfalling asleep, Mr. Herrick. I'm only wondering what charming influence\nhas been at work with the natural appetite, at your age, for discussing\nan actress.\"\n\"Ask me that later, outside your official capacity,\" said Herrick hotly,\n\"and we'll see if we can't find an answer!\"\n\"Mr. Herrick, why, on the morning after the murder, did you take down\nMiss Hope's photograph from over your desk?\"\n\"Because, never having met Miss Hope, it was a photograph I had no right\nto. I took it down when I learned the identity of the original. I didn't\nwant its presence to be misconstrued by cads.\"\n\"Thank you. That will do. Hermann Deutch, if you please.\"\nHerrick retired, ruffled and angry at himself; and Deutch, in passing\nhim, cast him a clinging glance, as of a fellow conspirator, that he\nfound strangely indigestible. At Christina, he could not look.\nIt did not take the coroner two minutes to make hay of Mr. Deutch. Not,\nindeed, that he was able to extract any very damaging admissions. The\nsuperintendent said that he was wakened by his wife, who had herself\nbeen wakened by the 'phone. He had held the before stated conversation\nwith Mr. Bird, and, not being able to get the elevator, had walked\nupstairs, being joined in the office by a policeman. The rest of his\nproceedings were unquestionable. But the coroner, an expert in\ncaricature and bullying and the twisting of phrases, by making him\nappear ridiculous, managed to make him appear mendacious; this was the\neasier because every now and then there was a slip in the sense of what\nhe said, as if he had forgotten the meaning of words; he certainly\nperspired more than was at all persuasive; he soon began to stumble and\nto contradict himself about nothing; his slight accent thickened and, in\na syntax with which his German tongue was habitually glib, but not\naccurate, he was soon making errors laughably contemptible to a public\nthat presumably expressed itself with equal elegance in all languages.\nSo that presently, when he was sufficiently harrowed, the coroner drew\nfrom him an admission; not only had Ingham frequently entertained ladies\nat his supper-parties, but complaints had been made to Deutch by various\ntenants, and these complaints he had not transmitted to the owners of\nthe apartment house. The most searching inquiry failed to connect\nChristina with these parties, but the inference was obvious.\n\"I didn't,\"--Mr. Deutch burst forth--\"keep 'em quiet any because she was\nthere. She wouldn't have touched such doings, not with the sole of her\nfoot. But I didn't want the gentleman she was engaged to should be put\nout of the house when I was running it, after her recommending it to\nhim, on my account!\" His eyes and his voice were full of exasperated\ntears. \"He'd have told her one lie and yet another and another, and\nshe'd have believed him, and he'd have wanted her to fight me. Not that\nshe would. But he was fierce against her friends, any of 'em. And I\ndidn't want she should have no more trouble than what she had with him\nalready.\"\n\"Very kind of you. Nature made you for a squire of dames, Mr. Deutch.\nMiss Hope, now,--you are a particularly old friend of hers, I believe.\nAnd I understand you would do a great deal for her.\"\n\"I'd do anything at all for her.\"\n\"I see.\" All that was crouching in the coroner coiled and sprang. \"Even\nto committing perjury for her, Mr. Deutch. Even to concealing a murder\nfor her sake?--Silence!\" he commanded Christina's friends.\nIn the sudden deathly stillness Deutch lifted his head. He looked at the\ncoroner with the eyes of a lion, and in a firm voice he replied, \"Say,\nwhen you speak like that about a lady, Mr. Coroner, you want to look out\nyou don't go a little too far.\"\n\"I am about to call a witness,\" said the coroner, with his cold laugh,\n\"who will go even farther. Joseph Patrick, please!\"\nJoe Patrick was the night-elevator boy.\nPeople stared about them. No witness. The coroner's man came forward,\nsaying something about \"telephoned--accident--get here shortly.\"\n\"See that he does,--The day-elevator boy in court!\"\nDisappointment reigned. After the glorious baiting of one whose race\nwent so long a way to make him fair game, almost anything would have\nbeen an anti-climax. There now advanced for their delectation a slim,\nblond, anemic, peevish youth, feeble yet cocky, almost as much like a\nfaded flower from a somewhat degenerated stalk as if he had been nipping\ndown Fifth Avenue under a silk hat, and whose name of Willie Clarence\nDodd proclaimed him of the purest Christian blood. Yet the stare of the\nassembly wandered from him, passed, grinning, where Deutch sat with\nhanging head, and settled down to feed upon the pallor of Christina's\ncheek. Herrick rose suddenly, displacing, as it were, a great deal of\natmosphere with his large person, and stalking across the room, pulled\nup a chair to Deutch's side. If he had clasped and held that plump, that\ntrembling hand, his intention could not have been more obvious.\nChristina turned her head a little and, with no change of expression,\nlooked at him for a moment. Then she turned back again to Willie\nClarence Dodd. That gentleman, ogling her with a canny glance, affably\ntipped his hat to her, and she bowed to him with utter gravity.\nMr. Dodd was a gentleman cherishing a just grudge. By the accident of\nbringing him into day-service instead of night-service, when there was a\nmurder up her sleeve, Fate had balked him of his legitimate rights in\nlife. Notoriety had been near him, but it had escaped. Mr. Dodd's\nself-satisfaction, however, was not easily downed. He had still a card\nto play, and he played it as jauntily as if doom had not despoiled him\nof his due. He smiled. And he had a right to. The first important\nquestion asked him ran--\"On the day after Mr. Ingham's return from\nEurope--the day, in fact, of his death--did Mr. Ingham have any\ncallers?\"\n\"Yes, sir. He had one.\"\nInterest leaped to him. He bloomed with it.\nApart from interruptions, his story ran--\"Yes, sir. A lady. Quite a\ngood-looker. Medium height. Might make you look round for a white horse;\nbut curls, natural. Very neat dresser and up-to-date. Cute little feet.\nShe wouldn't give her name. But not one o' _that_ sort, you understand.\nShe came up to me--the telephone girl was sick and I was onto her\njob--and she says to me, very low, as if she'd kind of gone back on\nherself,--'Will you kindly tell Mr. James Ingham that the lady he\nexpects is here?' He came down livelier than I'd ever known him, and she\nsaid it was good of him to see her and they sat down on the window-seat.\nThat's one thing where the Van Dam's on the bum--no parlor. I was really\nsorry for the little lady--no, not short, but the kind a man just\nnaturally calls little--she was so nervous and she talked about as loud\nas a mouse; I guess he felt the same way, for he says, 'Won't you come\nupstairs to tell me all this? We shall be quite undisturbed,' he says.\nAnd while they were waiting for the elevator--the hall-boy wasn't much\non running it--she says to him, 'You understand; I don't want to get\nChristina into any trouble.' And he says, 'Of course; that is all quite\nunderstood.' In about half an hour down they came together and he had\nhis hat. He wanted to send her off in a cab, but she wouldn't let him.\nThe minute she was gone he says to me, ''Phone for a taxi!' They didn't\nanswer, and he says, 'Ring like the devil!' It hadn't stopped at the\ndoor when he was in it and off.\"\n\"You couldn't, of course, hear his direction?\"\n\"Nop! He got back about six--chewing the rag, but on the quiet. Went out\nin his dress suit about seven-thirty. I went off at eight.\"\nHe was dismissed, strutting.\n\"And now let us get down to business. If you please,\" said the coroner,\n\"Miss Christina Hope.\"\nCHAPTER X\nJOE PATRICK ARRIVES\nIf the young actress and Ten Euyck, now at his best as the coroner, had,\nas Corey had suggested, any previous knowledge of each other, neither of\nthem stooped to signify it now.\n\"Your name, if you please?\"\n\"Christina Hope.\"\n\"Occupation?\"\n\"Actress.\"\n\"May one ask a lady's age?\"\n\"Twenty-two years.\"\nShe said she was single, and resided with her mother at No. -- West 93rd\nStreet. The girl spoke very low, but clearly, and of these dry\npreliminaries in her case not a syllable was lost. Her audience, leaning\nforward with thumbs down, still took eagerly all that she could give\nthem. On being offered a chair, she said that she would stand--\"Unless,\nof course, you would rather I did not.\"\nThe coroner replied to this biddable appeal--\"I shan't keep you a moment\nlonger than is necessary, Miss Hope. I have only to ask you a very few\nquestions. Believe me, I regret fixing your mind upon a painful subject;\nand nothing that I have hitherto said has been what I may call\n_personally_ intended. I question in the interests of justice and I hope\nyou will answer as fully as possible in the same cause.\"\n\"Oh, certainly.\"\n\"You were engaged to be married to Mr. Ingham, Miss Hope?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"When did this engagement take place?\"\n\"About a year ago.\"\n\"And your understanding with him remained unimpaired up to his death?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"When did you last see him alive?\"\n\"On the day before he--died. He drove to our house from the ship.\"\n\"Ah! Very natural, very natural and proper. But surely you dined\ntogether? Or met again during the next twenty-four hours?\"\n\"No.\"\n\"No? What were you doing on the evening of the fourth of August--the\nevening of his death?\"\n\"My mother and I dined alone, at home. We were neither of us in good\nspirits. I had had a bad day at rehearsal--everything had gone wrong. My\nhead ached and my mother was worn out with trying to get our house in\norder; it was a new house, we were just moving in.\"\n\"You rented a new house just as you were going to be married?\"\n\"Yes, that was why. I was determined not to be married out of a flat.\"\nA smile of sympathy stirred through her audience. It might be stupidity\nwhich kept her from showing any resentment toward a man who had\npractically accused her of murder. Or, it might be guilt. But she was so\nyoung, so docile, so demure! Her voice was so low and it came in such\nshy breaths--there was something so immature in the little rushes and\nhesitations of it. She seemed such a sweet young lady! After all, they\ndidn't want to feed her to the tigers yet awhile!\nAnd the coroner was instantly aware of this. \"Then your mother,\" he\nsaid, \"is the only person who can corroborate your story of how you\npassed that evening?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"How did you pass it?\"\n\"I worked on my part until after eleven, but I couldn't get it. Then I\ntook a letter of my mother's out to the post-box.\"\n\"At that hour! Alone!\"\n\"Yes. I am an actress; I am not afraid. And I wanted the air.\"\n\"You came straight home?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"While you were out did any neighbor see you? Did you speak to any one?\"\n\"On the way to the post-box I saw Mrs. Johnson, who lives two doors\nbelow and who had told us about the house being for rent. She is the\nonly person whom I know in the neighborhood. On the way back I met no\none.\"\n\"Then no one saw you re-enter the house?\"\n\"I think not.\"\n\"Did the maid let you in?\"\n\"No, I had my key. The maids had gone to bed.\"\n\"But it was a very hot night. People sat up late, with all their windows\nopen, and caretakers in particular must have been sitting on the steps,\nsome one must have seen you return.\"\n\"Perhaps they did.\"\n\"Did you, yourself, notice no one whom we can summon as a witness to\nyour return?\"\n\"No one.\"\n\"What did you do when you came in?\"\n\"I went to bed.\"\n\"You do not sleep in the same room with your mother?\"\n\"No.\"\n\"On the same floor?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"Do you lock your door?\"\n\"No.\"\n\"But she would not be apt to come into your room during the night?\"\n\"Not unless something had happened; no.\"\n\"Could you pass her door without her hearing you?\"\n\"I should suppose so. I never tried.\"\n\"So that you really have no witness but your mother, Miss Hope, that you\nreturned to the house, and no witness whatever that you remained in it?\"\n\"No,\" Christina breathed.\n\"Well, now I'm extremely sorry to recall a painful experience, but when\nand how did you first hear of Mr. Ingham's death?\"\n\"In the morning, early, the telephone began to ring and ring. I could\nhear my mother and the maids hurrying about the house, but I felt so ill\nI did not try to get up. I knew I had a hard day's work ahead of me, and\nI wanted to keep quiet. But, at last, just as I was thinking it must be\ntime, my mother came in and told me to lie still; that she would bring\nup my breakfast herself. I said I must go to rehearsal at any rate; and\nshe said, 'No, you are not to go to rehearsal to-day; something has\nhappened.'\"\nThe na\u00efvet\u00e9 of Christina's phrases sank to an awed whisper; her eyes\nwere very fixed, like those of a child hypnotized by its own vision.\n\"I saw then that she was trying not to tremble and that she had been\ncrying. She couldn't deny it, and so she told me that Mr. Ingham was\nvery, very ill, and she let me get up and helped me to dress. But then,\nwhen I must see other people--she told me--she told me--\"\nChristina's throat swelled and her eyes filled suddenly with tears.\nThe coroner, cursing the sympathy of the situation, forced himself to a\ncommiserating, \"Did she say how he died?\"\n\"She told me it was an accident. I said, 'What kind of an accident?' And\nshe said he was shot. 'But,' I said, 'how could he be shot by an\naccident? He didn't have any pistol? You know he didn't own such a\nthing.'\" A slight sensation traversed the court. \"Then it came out--that\nno one knew--that people were saying it was--murder--\"\n\"Do you believe that, Miss Hope?\"\n\"I don't know what to believe.\"\n\"Did Mr. Ingham have any enemies?\"\n\"I knew of none.\"\n\"From your intimate knowledge of Mr. Ingham's affairs you know of no\none, either with a grudge to satisfy or a profit to be made, by his\ndeath?\"\n\"No. No one at all.\"\n\"So that you have really no theory as to how this terrible thing\nhappened?\"\n\"No, really, I haven't.\"\n\"Well, then, I suppose we may excuse you, Miss Hope.\"\nThe girl, with her tranquil but slightly timid dignity, inclined her\nhead, and heaving a deep sigh of relief, turned away.--\n--\"Oh, by the way, Miss Hope,--\" And suddenly, with a violent change of\nmanner, he began to beat her down by the tactics which he had used with\nDeutch. But with how different a result! Nothing could make that pale,\ntall girl ridiculous. Scarcely speaking above a breath, she answered\nquestion after question and patiently turned aside insult after insult.\nHe found no opposition, no confusion, no reticence; nothing but that\nsoft yielding, that plaintive ingenuousness. The crudest jokes, the\ncruelest thrusts still left her anxiously endeavoring to convey desired\ninformation. He took her back over her relations with Ingham, their\ninterview upon his return, the events of the last evening, with an\ninstance and a repetition that wearied even the auditors to distraction;\nhe would let her run on a little in her answers and then bring her up\nwith a round turn; twenty times he took with her that journey to and\nfrom the post-box and examined every step, and still her replies ran\nlike sand through his fingers and left no trace behind. But, at last,\nshe put out a hand toward the chair she had rejected, and sank slowly\ninto it. Then indeed it became plain that she was profoundly exhausted.\nAnd because her exhaustion was so natural and so pitiable, the coroner,\nwatching its effect, said, \"Well, I can think of nothing more to ask\nyou, Miss Hope. I suppose it would be useless to inquire whether, being\nfamiliar with the apartment, you could suggest any way in which, the\ndoor being bolted, the murderer could have escaped?\"\nChristina looked up at him with a very faint smile and with her humble\nsweetness that had become almost stupidity, she said, \"Perhaps the\nmurderer wasn't in the apartment at all!\"\nThe whole roomful of tired people sat up. \"Not in the apartment! And\nwhere, then, pray?\"\n\"Well,\" said Christina, softly, \"he could have been shot through an open\nwindow, I suppose. Of course, I'm only a woman, and I shouldn't like to\nsuggest anything. Because, of course, I'm not clever, as a lawyer is.\nBut--\"\n\"Well, we're waiting for this suggestion!\"\n\"Oh!--Well, it seems to me that when this lady, whose shadow excited the\nyoung gentleman so much, disappeared as if it went forward, perhaps it\ndid go forward, perhaps she ran out of the room. You can see--if you\ndon't mind stopping to think about it--that she must have been standing\nright opposite the door. If she had been quarreling with Mr. Ingham, he\nmay have bolted the door after her. I don't know if you've looked--but\nthe button for the lights is right there--in the panel of the wall\nbetween the door and the bedroom arch. Mr. Ingham was a very nervous,\nemotional person. If there had been a scene, he might very well have\nmeant to switch the lights out after her, too. If he had his finger on\nthe button when the bullet struck him, he might very well, in the shock,\nhave pressed it. And then the lights would have gone out, almost as if\nthe bullet had put them out, just as the young man says. But, of course,\nif this were what had happened, you would have thought of it for\nyourself.\" And she looked up meekly at him, with her sweet smile.\nThe coroner smiled, too, with compressed lips, and putting his hands in\nhis pockets, threw back his head. \"And how do you think, then, that--if\nhe was killed instantly, as the doctors have testified,--the corpse\nwalked into the bedroom, where it was found?\"\n\"Ah!\" said Christina, \"I can't account for everything! I'm not an\nobserver, like you! But there has never been, has there, a doctor who\nwas ever wrong? Of course, I don't pretend to know.\"\n\"Well, it's a pretty theory, my dear young lady, and I'm sure you mean\nto work it out for us all you can. So give us a hint where this bullet,\ncoming through an open window, was fired from.\"\n\"It could have been fired from the apartment opposite. Across the\nentrance-court. You remember, the policeman who went in there found that\nthe windows exactly--do you call it 'tallied'?\"\n\"Very good, Miss Hope. If it were an unoccupied apartment. But it is\noccupied by Mr. and Mrs. Willing, and Mrs. Willing was in the apartment\nthe entire evening.\"\n\"Yes,\" said Christina, turning and looking pleasantly at the lady\nmentioned, \"alone.\" Then she was silent.\nAfter a staggered instant, the coroner asked, \"And what became of this\nlady who ran out into the hall?\"\n\"Well, of course,\" said Christina, sweetly, \"if it was Mrs. Willing--\"\nThe Willings leaped to their feet. \"This is ridiculous! This is an\noutrage! Why!\" cried the husband, \"his blind opposite our sitting-room\nwas down all the time. There isn't even a hole through it where a shot\nwould have passed!\"\n\"Oh, isn't there?\" asked Christina. \"You see, it wasn't I who knew\nthat!\"\n\"What do you mean, you wicked girl! How dare you! Why, you heard the\npoliceman say that it was only when he looked through our bedroom that\nhe could see into Mr. Ingham's apartment--\"\n\"And wasn't it in the bedroom that the body was found?\"\n\"Miss Hope!\" said the coroner, sternly, \"I must ask you not to\nperpetrate jokes. You know perfectly well that your implied charge\nagainst Mrs. Willing is perfectly ridiculous--\"\n\"Is it?\" Christina interrupted, \"she implied it about me!\"\nAnd for the first time she lifted to his a glance alight with the\nfaintest mockery of malice; a wintry gleam, within the white exhaustion\nof her face. Then,--if all the time she had been playing a part--then,\nif ever, she was off her guard.\nAnd she could not see what Herrick, from his angle, could see very well;\nthat the coroner had been quietly slipping something from his desk into\nhis hand, and was now dangling it behind his back.\nThis something was the scarf found on Ingham's table--that white scarf\nwith its silky border, cloudy, watery, of blue glimmering into gray. How\nthe tender, misty coloring recalled that room of Ingham's!\n\"Don't you know very well, Miss Hope,\" the coroner went on, \"that Mrs.\nWilling had nothing whatever to do with Mr. Ingham's death?\"\n\"How can I? You see, I wasn't there!\"\n\"So that, by no possibility,\" said the coroner, \"could this be yours?\"\nHe launched the scarf, like a soft, white serpent, almost in her face.\nAnd the girl shrank from it, with a low cry. She might as well have\nknotted it about her neck.\nAnd in the horrible stillness that followed her cry, the coroner said,\n\"Your nerves seem quite shattered, Miss Hope. I was only going to ask\nyou if you didn't think that ornament, in case it was not yours, might\nhave been left on Mr. Ingham's table by the young lady who called on him\nthat afternoon.\"\nWith a brave attempt at her former mild innocence, Christina responded,\n\"I don't know.\"\n\"Neither can you tell us, I suppose,--it would straighten matters out\ngreatly--who that caller was?\"\n\"No, I can't. I'm sorry.\"\n\"Think again, Miss Hope. Are there so many smartly dressed and pretty\nyoung ladies of your acquaintance, with curly red hair and, as Mr. Dodd\ninforms us, with cute little feet?\"\nChristina was silent.\n\"What? And yet she knows you well enough to say to your fianc\u00e9--'I don't\nwish to get Christina into trouble'!\" Whose was the smile of malice,\nnow! \"Come, come, Miss Hope, you're trifling with us! Tell us the\naddress of this lady, and you'll make us your debtors!\"\nThe girl opened her pale lips to breathe forth, \"I can't tell you! I\ndon't know!\"\n\"Let us assist your memory, Miss Hope, by recalling to you the lady's\nname. Her name is Ann Cornish.\"\nHerrick's nerves leaped like a frightened horse. And then he saw\nChristina start from her chair, and, casting round her a wild glance\nthat seemed to cry for help, drop back again and put her hands over her\nface. A dozen people sprang to their feet.\nMrs. Hope ran to her daughter's side, closely followed by Mrs. Deutch.\nThe two women, crying forth indignation and comfort, and exclaiming that\nthe girl was worn out and ought to be in bed, rubbed Christina's head,\nand began to chafe her hands. She was half fainting; but when a glass of\nwhiskey had appeared from somewhere and Mrs. Deutch had forced a few\ndrops between her lips, Christina, unlike the heroine of romance whose\nfaints always refuse stimulants, lifted her head and drank a mouthful\ngreedily. She sat there then, breathing through open lips, with a trace\nof color mounting in her face.\nThen the coroner, once more commanding attention, held up a slip of\npasteboard. \"This visiting-card,\" he said, \"is engraved with Miss\nCornish's name, but with no address. It was found leaning against a\ncandlestick on Mr. Ingham's piano, as though he wished to keep it\ncertainly in mind. As a still further reminder, Mr. Ingham himself had\nwritten on it in pencil--'At four.'\"\nChristina, with the gentlest authority, put back her friends. She rose,\nslowly and weakly, to her feet. \"Mr. Coroner,\" she said, \"I wish to\ncorrect a false impression; may I?\"\n[Illustration: \"Mr. Coroner,\" she said, \"I wish to correct a false\nimpression; may I?\"]\n\"That's what we're here for, my dear young lady,\" the coroner scornfully\nreplied.\n\"I have said nothing,\" she went on, \"that is not true, but I have\nallowed something to be inferred which is not true.\" She pressed her\nhands together and drew a long breath. \"It is true that I was engaged to\nMr. Ingham. And when you asked me if our understanding was unimpaired at\nthe time of his death, I said yes; for, believe me, our understanding\nthen was better than it had ever been before. But that was not what you\nmeant. I will answer what you meant, now. At the time of his death, I\nwas not engaged to marry Mr. Ingham.\"\n\"You were not! Why not?\"\n\"We had quarreled.\"\n\"When?\"\n\"The day before he died.\"\nAn intense excitement began to prevail. Herrick longed to stand up and\nshout, to warn her, to muzzle her. Good God! was it possible she\ndidn't see what she was doing? The coroner, weary man, sat back with a\nlong sigh of satisfaction. His whole attitude said, \"Now we're coming to\nit.\"\n\"And may one ask an awkward question, Miss Hope? Who broke the\nengagement?\"\n\"I did.\"\n\"Oh, of course, _naturally_. And may one ask why?\"\n\"Because I began to think that life with Mr. Ingham would not be\npossible to me.\"\n\"But on what grounds?\"\n\"He was grossly and insanely jealous,\" said Christina, flushing. \"Some\nwomen enjoy that sort of thing; I don't.\"\n\"Jealous of anyone in particular, Miss Hope?\"\n\"Only,\" said Christina, \"of everyone in particular.\"\n\"There was never, of course, any grounds for this jealousy?\"\nChristina looked through him without replying.\n\"Well, well. And was there nothing but this?\"\n\"He objected to my profession; and when I was first in love with him I\nthought that I could give it up for his sake. But as I came to know more\nof--everything--and to understand more of myself, I knew that I could\nnot. And I would not.\"\n\"So that it was partly Mr. Ingham, himself, in his insistence upon your\nrenouncing your profession, who broke the engagement?\"\n\"If you like.\"\n\"At least, your continuance in it made his jealousy more active?\"\n\"It made it unbearable. And as it gradually became clear to me that he\nscarcely pretended to practise even the rudiments of the fidelity that\nhe exacted, it seemed to me that there were limits to the insults which\neven a gentleman may offer to his betrothed. And I--freed myself.\"\nTwo or three people exchanged glances.\n\"Was the engagement ever broken before and patched up again?\"\n\"We had quarreled before, but not definitely. Last spring I asked him to\nrelease me, and he would not. But he consented to my remaining on the\nstage, and to going away for the summer, so that I could think things\nout.\"\n\"And you immediately took a house from which to be married!\"\n\"Yes. I tried to go on with it. I thought furnishing it might make me\nwant to. But I couldn't. I wrote him so, and he came home. While he was\non the ocean I found out something which made any marrying between us\nutterly impossible. When he drove to my house the day before he was\nkilled, I told him so. We had a terrible scene, but he knew then as well\nas I that it was the end. I never saw him again.\"\n\"As a matter of fact, then, the definite breaking of the engagement was\ncaused by something new and wholly extraneous to your profession or his\njealousy?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"And what was this discovery, Miss Hope?\"\n\"Oh!\" said Christina, quite simply, \"I am not going to tell you that.\"\nAnd she suddenly began to speak quite fast. \"Do you think I don't know\nwhat I am doing when I say that? Do you think you have not taught me?\nBut I don't care about appearing innocent any longer. And so I know,\nnow, what I'm saying. I will never tell you the cause of our quarrel. It\nhad nothing to do with Mr. Ingham's death. It was simply\nsomething--monstrous--which happened a long time ago. But, between us\ntwo, it had to fall like a gulf. More than that I will not tell you. And\nyou can never make me.\"\n\"And you don't know Ann Cornish?\"\nChristina hesitated. \"Of course I thought of her. But I couldn't bear\nto have that little girl brought into it. She's only twenty,\" Christina\nadded, as if the difference in their ages were half a century. \"And,\nbesides, how could it be she? She scarcely knew Mr. Ingham; she never\nhad an appointment with him; I can't believe she ever told him ill of\nme. She is my dearest friend. But ask her, Mr. Coroner, ask her. Her\naddress is--\" And Christina gave an address which was hastily copied.\n\"She is rehearsing at the Sheridan Theater. She, too, is an actress,\npoor child!\"\n\"Let us go back a moment, Miss Hope. What do you mean,--you don't care\nabout appearing innocent any longer?\"\n\"I mean that never again will I go through what I have gone through this\nafternoon. You have asked me the last question I shall answer. You've\nmade me sound like a liar, and feel like a liar; you've made me turn and\ntwist and dodge, trying to convince you of the truth about me, and now\nthat I have told you all the truth, you may think a lie about me, if you\nchoose!\"\nHer face was all alive, now, and her voice thrilled out its deep notes,\nimpassioned as they were soft. \"Oh, I wished so much to say nothing! Not\nto have to stand up here and tell all sorts of intimate things, in this\nhorrible place before these gaping people! But when you began to worry\nme, to threaten and jeer at me, trying to trip me, I was afraid of you!\nI know people say that your one thought is to make a mark and have a\ncareer, and I seemed to see in your face that you would be glad to kill\nme for that. I remembered all I had ever heard of you; how you hated\nwomen--once, I suppose, some woman hurt you badly;--how you copied an\nattorney who made all his reputation by the prosecution, by the\npersecution, of women, and how they say you never run a woman so hard as\nwhen she has to work for her living, as I do, and stands exposed to\nevery scandal, as I am! And so I tried to convince you, to answer\neverything you asked; I am in great trouble, and I am not so very old,\nand since this came I have scarcely eaten and not slept at all. For if\nyou imagine that, because I haven't really loved him this long while, it\nis easy to bear thinking how his life had been rived out of him like\nthat, oh, you are wrong--and my nerves are all in shreds. So that it\nseemed as if I must clear myself, as if it were too hideous to be hated,\nand to have every one thinking I had murdered him! I struggled to defend\nmyself, and I let you torture me. But oh, I was wrong, wrong! To be\njudged and condemned and insulted, that's hard, but it's not degrading.\nBut to explain, and pick about, and plead, and wrack your brain to make\npeople believe your word, oh, that degrades!\" She paused on a little\nchoking breath. \"Think what you like! I have no witness but my mother,\nand I know very well, in such a case, she doesn't count. I can't prove\nthat I returned to my house, I can't prove that I stayed in it. It's\nworse than useless to try. If I had friends to speak for me do you think\nI would have them subjected to what Mr. Deutch has borne for me to-day?\nI've nothing that shop-keepers call position; I've no money; I'm all\nalone. Think what you please.\" And Christina crossed the room and sat\ndown beside her mother.\nConflicting emotions clashed in the silence. She seemed to flash such\ndifferent lights! She had so little, now, the manners or the sentiments\nof a sweet young lady. Many people were greatly moved, but no one knew\nwhat to think. If Christina had brought herself to slightly more\nconciliatory language or if, even now, she had thrown herself girlishly\ninto her mother's arms, she could, at that moment, easily have melted\nthe public heart. But she sat with her head tipped back against the\nwall, with her eyes on vacancy, and great, slow tears rolling down her\nunshielded face, \"as bold as brass.\" And the coroner, leaning forward\nacross his desk, surveyed the assemblage with a cold, fine smile. \"My\nfriends,\" he began, \"after the young lady's eloquence, I can hardly\nexpect you to care for mine. Nevertheless, while we are waiting for a\nwitness unavoidably detained, I will ask you to listen to me. Let us get\ninto shape what we have already learned.--The first thing of which we\nare sure is that James Ingham landed in New York on the afternoon of the\nthird of August and drove directly to the residence of Miss Christina\nHope, his betrothed. Miss Hope tells us that when he left that house\ntheir engagement was broken; that he was unbearably jealous; that he\ndisapproved of the profession which she persisted in following and that\nthey quarreled over something which she refuses to divulge. We have no\nwitness to this quarrel, but I will ask you to remember it. I will ask\nyou to remember that neither have we witnesses to Miss Hope's statement\nthat it was she, rather than Mr. Ingham, who broke the engagement.\n\"Let us get to our next positive fact. Our next positive fact is that\nMr. Ingham, on the next afternoon, the afternoon of August fourth, had\nan appointment with a lady for four o'clock--an appointment the hour of\nwhich he was so anxious not to forget that he wrote it on the lady's\nvisiting-card, and stood the card against a candle on his piano. Our\nnext facts are that the lady kept this appointment, that she had a\nprivate interview with Mr. Ingham which greatly excited him; that, as\nsoon as she was gone, he drove off in a taxi with desperate haste, and\nthat he returned in about an hour, still under the repressed excitement\nof some disagreeable emotion. If, gentlemen of the jury, you should\nbring in a verdict warranting the State in examining that cabman and in\nquestioning Miss Ann Cornish as to the news she imparted to Mr. Ingham,\nthen, indeed, I am much mistaken if we do not have our hands upon the\ngreat clue to all murders, gentlemen, the motive. For, as you have\nclearly perceived, the meeting between Mr. Ingham and Miss Cornish was\nnot a lover's meeting. Or, if so, it was not a meeting of acknowledged\nlovers. Miss Hope tells us that Miss Cornish is her confidential friend,\nand, as far as she knew, had only the most formal acquaintance with Mr.\nIngham. No, Miss Cornish had a piece of information to give Mr. Ingham,\nand she expected this information to serve her own ends, for she\nsaid--'It is good of you to see me.' And Mr. Ingham found the\ninformation important, for he soon wished it told him at greater length\nupstairs, 'where we shall be quite undisturbed.' The lady agrees;\nalthough she adds, 'I don't want to get Christina into trouble.' Now, I\nask you, gentlemen, what could have been her object except to get\nChristina into trouble. Why does a pretty young woman who refuses to\ngive her name come to a specially attractive man with news of her\ndearest friend whom she supposes him to be still engaged to marry--news\nfor which she feels it necessary to apologize--for but one of two\nreasons;--either she is in love with him herself, and wishes to injure\nher friend in his eyes, or she is in love with some other man and\njealous of her friend whom she wishes warned off by the friend's\nlegitimate proprietor. In either case, she evidently effected her point\nfor she sent Mr. Ingham rushing from the house. He, however, apparently\nfailed in what he set out to do. All this, gentlemen, is but conjecture.\n\"Here is where I expected to present you with an astonishing bridge of\nfacts. I had now meant to show you that Mr. Ingham, that evening,\nexpected an unwelcome visitor; that he left orders she was not to be\nadmitted; that she came, that she was well-known to the elevator boy,\nand to all of us here present as well as to a greater public; that\ndespite the efforts of the elevator boy, she penetrated to Mr. Ingham's\napartment, whence she was not seen to return, and that she was the only\nvisitor he had that night. But in the continued absence of the boy,\nJoseph Patrick, all this must wait.\n\"Our next known fact is that Mr. Herrick was wakened by Mr. Ingham's\nplaying at one or shortly before. You will remember that it was after\neleven when Miss Hope spoke to Mrs. Johnson on her way to the post-box,\nand that after that no one but her mother claims to have seen or spoken\nwith her. For a quarter of an hour, Mr. Herrick tells us, Mr. Ingham\nplayed, calmly and beautifully. All was peace. But then there began to\nbe the sound of voices talking through the music--the voices, as other\nwitnesses have testified, of a man and a woman. And the piano begins to\nsound fitfully and brokenly. The man and the woman have begun to\nquarrel. Their voices--particularly the woman's voice--rise higher and\nstormier. Mr. Herrick, with the whole street between, has fallen asleep.\nBut Mrs. Willing, just across the court, hears a voice she knows, and\nsays to her husband, who has just come in, 'He's got that actress he's\nengaged to in there with him.' And then even Mr. Herrick is awakened by\na deliberate discord from the piano; a jarring crash, 'a kind of hellish\neloquence.' In other words, the man, with his comparative calm and his\nmastery over his instrument, is mocking and goading the woman, whose\nshadow, convulsed, threatening, furious, immediately springs out upon\nthe blind. Gentlemen, can you not imagine the sensations of that woman?\nLet us suppose a case. Let us suppose that a girl ambitious and lovely,\nbut of a type of loveliness not easily grasped by the mob, a girl who\nhas had to work hard and fight hard, who is worthy to adorn the highest\ncircles, but who is, in Miss Christina Hope's feeling expression,\nwithout position, without money, without friends, suddenly meets and\nbecomes engaged to marry a distinguished and wealthy man. Let us suppose\nthat she puts up with this man's exactions, with his furious jealousies,\nwith his continual infidelities for the sake of the security and\naffluence of becoming his wife. But is it not possible that when this\nexacting gentleman is safely across the ocean she may allow herself a\nlittle liberty? That in the chagrin of knowing she is presently to be\ntorn from her really more congenial friends and surroundings she goes,\nin his absence, a little too far? At any rate, he cuts short his visit\nin Europe, he flies to her from the steamer, full of accusations,\nbut--contrary to the experience narrated by Miss Hope--he is perhaps\nsoothed by her version of things and goes away, without having fully\nwithdrawn his word, to examine matters. Let us suppose that on the next\nday he receives a call from his fianc\u00e9e's confidential friend,--very\npossibly his informant while he was abroad--who circumstantially\nconfirms his worst suspicions. Let us suppose he drives wildly to the\nhouse of his betrothed; but she is not at home, and after a time he\ngives up looking for her. He comes miserably back, dines out, returns\nearly, but leaves word that he is not at home. But in the meanwhile may\nnot the lady have got word of all this? Suppose that when she does, she\ncomes to him,--at any hour, at any risk,--and uses her hitherto\ninfallible charm to get him back. Suppose she gets him back; they are\nalone together; she is excited and confident and off her guard. She lets\nsomething slip. Instantly the battle is on. This time she cannot get him\nback. She becomes desperate. If he speaks, as perhaps he has threatened\nto, she loses not only him, but everything. For she is on the brink of\nthe great step of her career. She is to play the leading feminine r\u00f4le\nunder a celebrated star, who does not care for scandal in his\nadvertisements. On the contrary, he has bruited everywhere her youth,\nher propriety, her breeding, her good blood. She is a fairy-tale of the\ngirlish virtues. He has no use for her otherwise. And still the man at\nthe piano proclaims her everything that is otherwise, and she sees that\nshe is to lose him and all she has struggled for, professionally, in one\nbreath. He sits there--he, he, the man who has been continually false to\nher, claiming for himself a different morality--he sits there playing,\nplaying, shattering her nerves with his crash of chords, with his\nhellish eloquence. But with his back to her, you observe, where she\nstands at the window and suddenly she sees something lying on a little\ntable or the foot of the couch--something not unusual in a man's\napartment, although we have Miss Hope's word that Mr. Ingham did not\npossess one--something which, perhaps, in his wrecked happiness, he had\nloaded earlier in the evening with that sinister intention of suicide in\nwhich Miss Hope's respected friend, Mr. Deutch, so profoundly believes.\nWell, gentlemen, the frenzied eye of this tormented girl lights on that\nlittle object, she stoops to pick it up, he turns,--and then comes a\npistol-shot. There is an end to the strength of a woman's nerves,\ngentlemen, and she has found it. She cannot look upon her handiwork. She\nsprings off the light and flees. In the confusion she escapes.\nGentlemen, with the dumbfounding mystery of that bolted door I can not\ndeal, unless--as Miss Hope has reminded us--medical science may be for\nonce at fault,--unless the wounded man instinctively staggered to the\ndoor and bolted it, staggered toward his telephone, in his bedroom, and\ndied there. That, gentlemen, can be threshed out at the trial. In the\nmeantime, I must ask you to remember that the lady whom events seem to\nindicate is high-strung and overwrought; that her natural grief and\nnervousness led her through a long cross-examination in which she never\nonce betrayed any hesitation, or the fact that she had quarreled with\nMr. Ingham or that she was aware of the existence of Ann Cornish, to a\nsatirical attack upon Mrs. Willing, whose remarks had annoyed her; that,\nas she tells us, she has no one to take care of her, and if we are\ninclined to think that she can take very good care of herself, we must\nremember that when she was confronted with a lady's scarf found not far\nfrom the murdered man, she screamed at the sight of it, and when\nconfronted with the visiting-card of Ann Cornish, she so much wished her\nfriend to be kept out of it that she fainted, and, afterwards, _changed\nall her evidence_.--Gentlemen, I rejoice to see, entering this room, our\nwitness, Joseph Patrick.\"\nJoe Patrick, a short, thick-set young fellow, with rough hair and a\nbright eye, advanced to the coroner's desk. His forehead was ornamented\nwith a great deal of very fresh surgeon's plaster, and when asked why he\nwas so late, he replied that he had been knocked down by an automobile\non his way to the inquest. Well, yes, he would sit down; he did feel a\nlittle weak, but it wasn't so much from that--he'd had some candy sent\nhim day before yesterday and he'd been awful sick ever since he ate it.\nJoe was a friendly soul and he added that he was sorry the man the\ncoroner sent hadn't seen anybody but his mother. He was to the doctor's,\nthen.\n\"But you had telephoned a pretty detailed account to your mother, hadn't\nyou, before you left the Van Dam--on the morning of the murder--much\nmore detailed than you gave the police?\"\n\"Yes, sir. I guess I did.\"\n\"Well, then, please give that account to us.\"\nJoe looked rather at sea, and the coroner added, \"You have said from the\nbeginning, that a lady called upon Mr. Ingham the night of his death?\"\n\"Oh, yes, sir! She did!\"\n\"Well, tell us first what happened when you went on watch. You had a\nmessage from Mr. Ingham?\"\n\"Yes, sir. He telephoned down to me. He says, 'I'm out. And if any lady\ncomes to see me this evening, you say right away I'm out.'\"\n\"Well, and then?\"\n\"Well, along about half-past twelve--it was awful hot and lonesome,\nand--and--\"\n\"And you began to get sleepy! It seems that at least the house-staff was\nable to sleep that night!\"\n\"Well,\" said Joe, \"I guess anybody'd get sleepy, been sittin' there for\nfour hours in that heat! Anyhow, it seemed like I'd just closed my eyes,\nwhen they came open all of a sudden and I was looking at the front\ndoor. And there, all in white--'Great Scott!' I says to myself, 'there's\nMiss Hope!' I don't know why it seemed so awful queer to me, unless\nbecause I wasn't really but half-awake.\"\n[Illustration: \"'Great Scott!' I says to myself, 'there's Miss Hope!'\"]\nIt is not too much to say that a shudder traversed the court. Christina,\nwhite as death, and her eyes black and strained with horror, leaned\ntoward him in an agony.\n\"Perhaps you thought she was rather a late visitor!\" smiled the coroner.\n\"Well? She didn't melt away, I suppose?\"\n\"No, sir. She came up to me, all smiles like, but you bet there was\nsomething that wasn't a bit funny in that smile. And she says to me, 'Is\nour friend, Mr. Ingham, at home?' she says. And I says, 'No, ma'am.' And\nshe says, 'You're a bad liar, my boy! But you won't take me up, I\nsuppose?' And I says, 'He told me not to, ma'am.'\"\n\"Well? Go on!\"\n\"So she says, 'Well, then, I must take myself up.' And before you could\nsay 'Pop,' she was up the stairs.\"\n\"And what did you do?\"\n\"'Oh, here, ma'am, ma'am,' I says, 'you mustn't do that!' She stopped\nand put her elbows on the stair-rail,--they run right up to one side o'\nthe 'phone desk, you know,--and laughed down at me. She looked awful\npretty, but there was something about her kind o' scared me. And 'It's\nall right, my boy,' she says. 'I shan't hurt him!' An' she laughed again\nan' ran on up.\"\n\"And you did nothing?\"\n\"Well, what could I do, I like to know! But I grabbed at the switchboard\nand called up Mr. Ingham. 'Mr. Ingham,' I says, 'that lady's coming up\nanyhow.' An' he says, 'Damnation!' That's the last word I ever heard out\no' him.\"\n\"'That lady!' Didn't you give him her name?\"\n\"Why, I didn't know her name, sir!\"\n\"Not know her name! Why, you know Miss Hope--you know her name?\"\n\"Oh, yes, sir.\"\n\"Well, are you crazy, then? It was Miss Hope, was it not?\"\n\"Why, no, you bet you it wasn't! It was another lady altogether!\"\nCHAPTER XI\nPERSONS UNKNOWN\nThe revulsion of feeling in Christina's favor was so immense that it\nbecame a kind of panic. It practically engulfed the rest of the inquest.\nThe taking of testimony from her mother and Mrs. Deutch was the emptiest\nof formalities; the notion of holding her under surveillance until\nIngham's cabman and Ann Cornish could be produced confessed itself\nridiculous. Another woman, a strange woman, an aggressive, sarcastic\nwoman forcing her way in upon Ingham a couple of hours before his death,\nand not coming down again! Well!\nAs for the coroner, he suffered less a defeat than a rout. Even his\ninstant leap upon Joe Patrick was only a plucky spurt. He was struggling\nnow against the tide, and he knew it; the strength of his attack was\nsucked down. Even the remainder of Joe's own evidence did not receive\nits due consideration. The public fancy fastened upon that figure of a\nsmiling woman, \"awful pretty, but with something scaring about her,\"\nleaning over the baluster to laugh, \"I won't hurt him!\" It worked out\nthe rest for itself.\n\"Yes, sir,\" Joe persisted, \"my mother misunderstood me, all right. I\nsaid I took her for Miss Hope at the door, and so I did. But she\nwasn't.\"\n\"Did she look so much like Miss Hope?\"\n\"No, sir; not when she came near. That was the thing made me feel so\nqueer. I can't understand it. First she was Miss Hope, and then she\nwasn't. She gave me a funny feeling when I seen her standing there in\nthe door an' says to myself, 'There's Miss Hope.' 'Twas kind of's if I\nseen her ghost. An' then all of a sudden there she was, right on top o'\nme. An' not like Miss Hope a bit. An' that gimme a funny feeling, too!\"\n\"Well, never mind your sensations. If she didn't resemble Miss Hope, at\nleast how did she differ from her?\"\n\"Why, I guess she was a good deal handsomer for one thing. At least I\nexpect most people would think so, though I prefer Miss Hope's style,\nmyself. She was dressier, for one thing, in white lace like, with a big\nhat, an' she was pretty near as slim, but yet she had, as you might say,\nmore figger. An' she had red hair.\"\nJoe had made another sensation.\n\"Red hair! Curly?\"\n\"Well, it was combed standin' out fluffy like one o' these here halos,\nup into her hat. It wasn't anyways common red, you know, sir, it was\nelegant, stylish red, like the goldy part in flames.\"\n\"Don't get poetic, Joe. Was she a very young lady?\"\n\"I don't think so, sir.--Oh, I guess she wouldn't hardly see twenty-five\nagain! Her feet, sir? I didn't notice. But she didn't walk kind o'\nwaddlin', either, nor else kind o' pinchin', the way ladies mostly do;\nshe just swum right along, like Miss Hope does.\"\n\"But she didn't swim downstairs again, without your seeing her?\"\n\"No, sir.\"\n\"Now look here, Joe Patrick, how do you know she didn't? When Mr. Bird\nwent to the 'phone after the shooting he was a long time getting\nconnected, and Mr. Herrick found you asleep at the desk.\"\n\"I couldn't have fell asleep again until after one o'clock, sir, for I\nhad a clock right on the desk and at one I noticed the time. I was\nwatchin' for her, she was such a queer one, an' only one man came in all\nthat time, that I had to carry upstairs. He only went to the fourth\nfloor, just where she was, an' I rushed him up an' dropped right down\nagain. She couldn't ha' walked down in that time. I could hear the piano\ngoin' all the while, the front doors bein' open. But after one I must\nha' dropped off. Because it was about twenty minutes past when Mr.\nHerrick shook me up. Then I knew I'd been kind o' comin' to, the last\nfew minutes, hearin' Mr. Bird ringin'. When Mr. Herrick grabbed my\nelevator I called up Mr. Deutch, an' he was quite a minute, too. I says\nto him, 'Say, Mr. Deutch, somepun's happened,' an' I switched him onto\nMr. Bird.\"\n\"Well, we're very much obliged to you, Mr. Patrick, for an exceedingly\nfull account. What apartment did the gentleman have whom you took up to\nthe fourth floor? Perhaps he may have heard something.\"\n\"I don't know, sir.\"\n\"What?\"\n\"He just stepped into the elevator, like he lived there, an' he says to\nme, 'Fourth!' I never thought nothing about him.\"\n\"You didn't know him?\"\n\"No, sir.\"\n\"You'd never seen him before?\"\n\"No, sir.\"\n\"Nor since?\"\n\"No, sir.\"\n\"You took a man upstairs in the middle of the night, without announcing\nhim, whom you knew to be a stranger?\"\n\"Why no, I thought he was a new tenant. We got a few furnished\napartments in the building, goes by the month. And then there's always a\ngood deal o' sublettin' in the summer. He was so quiet an' never asked\nany questions nor anything, goin' right along about his business, I\nnever give him a thought.\"\n\"Well, give him a thought now, my boy. When you let him out of the\nelevator, which way did he turn?\"\nThe boy started and his eyes jumped open. \"Oh, good Lord! sir,\" he\ncried, \"why, he turned down toward 4-B.\"\nHis start was reproduced in the persons of all present. Only the coroner\ncontrolled himself.\n\"What time was this?\"\n\"It hadn't quite struck one, sir.\"\n\"And during all this talk about Mr. Ingham's murder, at one-fifteen, it\nnever occurred to you that at just before one, you had taken up to his\nfloor a man whom you had never seen, whom you never saw again, and who\nturned toward his apartment?\"\n\"I'm sorry, sir. I never thought of it till this minute.\"\n\"Think hard, now. Give us a good description of this man.\"\n\"A description of him?\"\n\"Yes, yes. What did he look like?\"\n\"Why, I don't hardly know, sir.\"\n\"Try and remember. He at least, I presume, did not remind you of Miss\nHope?\"\n\"No, sir; he didn't remind me of anything.\"\n\"He looked so unlike other people?\"\n\"No, sir. He looked just like all gentlemen.\"\n\"I see, Joseph, that you don't observe your own sex with the passionate\nattention which you reserve for ladies. Well, had he a beard or a\nmustache?\"\n\"No, sir, he hadn't any beard, I'm sure.\"\n\"Come, that's something! And no mustache?\"\n\"Well, I don't think so, sir. But I wouldn't hardly like to say.\"\n\"Was he light or dark?\"\n\"I never noticed, sir.\"\n\"Was he tall?\"\n\"Well, sir, I should say he was about middle height.\"\n\"About how old?\"\n\"Oh, maybe thirty, sir. Or forty, maybe. Or maybe not so old.\"\n\"Stout?\"\n\"No, sir.\"\n\"Ah! He was slender, then?\"\n\"Well, I shouldn't say he was either way particular, sir.\"\n\"How was he dressed, then?\"\n\"Well, as far as I can remember; he had on a suit, and a straw hat.\"\n\"Was the suit light or dark?\"\n\"About medium, sir.\"\n\"Not white, then? Nor rose color, I presume? Nor baby blue?\"\n\"No, sir.\"\n\"Black?\"\n\"I don't think so, sir.\"\n\"Well, was it brown, gray, navy-blue?\"\n\"Well, it seems like it might have been a gray, the way I think of it.\nBut then, again, when I think of it, it seems like it might ha' been a\nblue.\"\n\"Thank you, Joe. Your description is most accurate. It's a pity you're\nnot a detective.\"\n\"There's no use getting mad at me, Mister,\" Joe protested. \"I'm doing\nthe best I know.\"\n\"I'm sure you are. If Mr. Ingham's second anonymous visitor had only\nbeen a lady, what revelations we should have had! But this unfortunate\nand insignificant male, Mr. Patrick. Should you know him again if you\nsaw him?\"\n\"I think so, sir. I wouldn't hardly like to say.\"\n\"Well, to get back to more congenial topics!--The lady who was not Miss\nHope--you would know her, I presume?\"\n\"Oh, yes, sir!\"--Joe hesitated.\n\"Out with it!\" commanded the coroner.\n\"Why, it's only--why, anybody'd know her, sir. They couldn't help it.\nShe had--\" He paused, blushing.\n\"She had--what?\"\n\"I couldn't hardly believe it myself, sir. She had--I'm afraid you'll\nlaugh.\"\n\"Oh, not at you, Joe! Impossible!\"\n\"Well, she had a blue eye, sir.\"\n\"A blue eye! You don't mean she was a Cyclops?\"\n\"Sir?\"\n\"She had more than the one eye, hadn't she?\"\n\"Oh, yes, sir. She had the two o' them all right.\"\n\"Well, then, I don't see anything remarkable in her having a blue one.\"\n\"No, sir. Not if they was both blue. But the other one was brown!\"\nThe anticipated laughter swept the room. After a pallid glare even the\ncoroner laughed.\n\"Well, Joe, I'm afraid you must have been very sleepy indeed! I don't\nwonder the lady gave you such a turn! But if only you had been awake,\nJoe, your friend would have had one invaluable quality--she would be\neasily identified!\"\nThus, almost gaily, the inquest ended. With Mr. Ingham closeted just\nbefore his death with an unaccounted-for woman and, presumably, with an\nunaccounted-for man, there was but one verdict for the jury to bring in,\nand they brought it. James Ingham had come to a violent death by\nshooting at the hands of a person or persons unknown.\nChristina was surrounded by congratulating admirers. But Herrick had not\ngone far in the free air of the rainy street when, hearing his name\ncalled, he turned and saw her coming toward him. She had, in Joe\nPatrick's phrase, swum right along. She came to him exactly as she had\ncome along the sea-beach in his dream, the wet wind in her skirts and in\nher hair, the fog behind her, and the cool light of clearing in her\neyes. And she said to him,\n\"You're the man, I think, who thought a woman was in distress and went\nto help her?\"\nHe replied, awkwardly enough, \"I didn't see what else I could do!\"\n\"You haven't been long in New York, Mr. Herrick,\" she replied. \"I\nwonder, will you shake hands?\"\nHe had her hand in his, stripped of her long glove, her soft but\nelectric vitality at once cool and vibrant in his clasp.\n\"And try to believe, will you?\" said Christina, \"that perhaps, whoever\nshe was and whatever she did, perhaps she was in distress, after all.\"\nCHAPTER XII\nHERRICK RECEIVES A TELEPHONE MESSAGE\nHerrick came home through a world which he had never seen before,\nblindly climbed his three flights of stairs, and, shutting himself into\nhis room, sat down on his bed. He stared across the floor at the\nwall-paper, like a man drugged. Yes, there was wall-paper in the world,\njust as there had been this morning. This room had existed this morning!\nAnd so had he! Incredible! Almost indecent! To-day, for the first time,\nhe had found himself. For he had found Her!\nYes, he had lived twenty-eight years, and it had been so much time\nwasted! But he need waste little more. She was an actress. Incredibly,\nshe did not abide in a sanctuary! She was stuck up there on the stage\nfor fools to gape at. And, for two dollars a performance, he, too, could\ngape! Two dollars a vision--eight visions a week. He began to perceive\nthat he would need some money!\nAnd, with the thought of money, there materialized out of the void of\nthe past a quantity of loose scribbled papers, which, last night, had\nbeen of paramount importance. They belonged to his Sunday special.\nGood--that would buy many theater tickets! Yesterday it had been the key\nto Success. But now he said to himself, \"Success?\" And he looked dully\nat the scribbled sheets. \"Success?\" he thought again, as he might have\nthought \"Turkish toweling?\" It was a substance for which, at the moment,\nhe had no use.\nHe had no use for anything except the remembrance of being near her.\nFirst there was the time when she was just a girl, sitting beside her\nmother. He remembered that he, poor oaf, had been disappointed in her.\nAnd then came the time when she turned her head, and he had seen that\nstrange, proud, childish innocence--like Evadne's. At the time he had\nreminded himself that this effect was largely due to her extraordinary\npurity of outline; to the curving perfection of modeling with which the\nlength of her throat rose from that broad white collar of hers into the\nsoft, fair dusk of her coiled hair; to the fine fashioning of brows and\nshort, straight nose and little chin and the set of the little head, so\nthat the incomparable delicacy of every slope and turn, of every curve\nand line and luminous surface at last seemed merely to flower in one\ninnocent ravishment. He had then admitted that for a girl who wasn't a\nhowling beauty she had at least the comeliness of being quite perfectly\nmade. And no bolt from the blue had descended upon his gross complacency\nto strike him dead!\nHe remembered next, how, at the end of his testimony, she had, with her\nfirst restless movement, begun pulling off her long gloves. Her hands\nwere slim and strong and rather large, with that look of sensitive\ncleverness which one sees sometimes in the hands of an extremely nice\nboy. And with the backs of these hands she had a childish trick of\npushing up the hair from her ears, which Herrick found adorable.\nSuddenly his brain became a kind of storm-center filled with snatches of\nverse, now high, now homely--she had risen to give her testimony! There\nshe stood before that brute; and the thing he remembered clearest in the\nworld was a line from his school-reader--\n\"My beautiful, my beautiful, that standest meekly by--\"\nDid he, then, think that she was beautiful? Had he not denied it? For\nthe first time she lifted her eyes, giving their soft radiance, so mild,\nso penetrating, out fully to the world. And every pulse in him had\nleaped with but the one cry,\n     \"Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air,\n    Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars!\"\n\"Your name?\"\n\"Christina Hope.\"\n\"Occupation?\"\n\"Actress.\"\n\"Age?\"\n\"Twenty-two years.\"\nThrough the light, clear silver of Christina's speech there ran a strain\ndeeper, lower, richer colored,--Irish girls speak so, sometimes. It\ntrailed along the listener's heart; it dragged; it drawled; by the\nunsympathetic it might have been called husky. Conceivably, creatures\nmay have existed who did not care for it. But to those who did, it was\nthe last turn of the screw.\n\"Name?\"\n\"Christina Hope.\"\n\"Occupation?\"\n\"Actress.\"\n      \"The devil hath not yet in all his choice\n    An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice!\"\nThis arrow, with Christina's very first word, pierced to the center and\nthe quick of Herrick's heart, and nailed it to the mast!\n\"Name?\"\n\"Christina Hope.\"\n\"Age?\"\n\"Twenty-two years.\"\nAt the beginning of that scrap of dialogue, Herrick, as a lover, had not\nyet been born; at its end, compared to him, Romeo was a realist.\nHe did not tell himself that he was in love with her, and he would have\ndenied convulsively that he wished her to be in love with him. With him?\nFool! Dolt! Lout! Boor! Not to him did he wish her to stoop! All he\nwanted was to become nobler for her sake, to serve her, to die for her!\nMerely that! And before dying, to become humbly indispensable to her, to\nknow her more intimately than any one had ever known her, to take up\nevery moment of her time! It was entirely for the sake of her\nperfection, of the holy and ineffable vision, that he objected\nprofoundly, almost with nausea, to Deutch's saying that she had acted\nloony about Ingham. Ingham!--why Ingham? Even he, Herrick, would be\nbetter than Ingham. For had not he, unworthy, by his deep perception of\nher become worthy? Great as her beauty was, it was not for the mob. It\nwas too fine, too subtle; slim as a flame and winged as the wind yet\nApril-colored, its aching ravishment could thrill only sensitive nerves.\nYet he remembered something--the elevator boy had thought that, too!\nJoseph Patrick had declared he supposed that other people thought\ndressier ladies was handsomer, but he preferred Miss Hope! Deutch, too;\nhadn't he suggested something of the kind? Now he came to think of it,\neven the beast of a coroner had said so! Then, and not till then, did he\nfully perceive the cruel trick, the last refinement of her perfect\nbeauty; that it came to you in such a humble, friendly, simple guise, so\nslight and helpless did it knock upon your heart, whispering its shy way\ninto your blood with the sweet promise that it was yours alone and that\nyou alone could understand it. Until, when it had taken you wholly,\npassion and spirit, it drew aside its veil and revealed itself as the\ndream of every common prince and laborer and lover; the poet's hope and\nthe world's desire. He saw her now, coming toward him through the wet\nwind, shining in the gray day, with a smile on her uplifted face, and,\nat last, past its candor and its child's decorum, he knew it for the\nface that launch'd a thousand ships and burned the topless towers of\nIlium!\nAt that moment the summons of a Grubey infant declared him wanted on the\ntelephone. And through the potent instrument a friendly voice from the\n_Record_ office brought him back to earth. It said, \"Say, Herrick, we've\ngot hold of a corking wind-up for your inquest story.\"\nHe cared nothing, now, for inquests, since they no longer concerned her.\nBut he said, \"Have you?\"\n\"Yes. We thought we'd see what the Cornish girl had to say, and we sent\nright down, both to her boarding-house and her theater.\"\n\"And what had she?\"\n\"Why, that's it. Since the day of the murder she hasn't showed up at\neither place. She's disappeared.\"\nBOOK SECOND\nTHE SHADOW ON THE SCREEN\nCHAPTER I\nHERRICK PAYS A CALL, AND THE TEA IS SPILT\nHerrick had written on his card, \"Forgive what must seem an intrusion. I\nam asking your time on a matter of business, but I'm afraid I must call\nit a personal matter, too.\" After the maid had taken it, he suffered the\nterrors of considering this message at once pretentious and too\nemotional and in the worst possible taste.\nChristina's little reception-room was a delicate miracle of Spartan\nwhite, with a few dark gleams of slender formal mahogany shapes and a\ncouple of water-colors in white frames. On a little table a broad,\nshallow bowl was filled with marigolds. Herrick had time for a second's\ncharmed curiosity at the presence of the little country flowers, and\nthen, from the floor above, he heard a low cry.\nInstinctively, he stepped into the hall, and there came Christina,\nflying down the stairs.\n\"Oh, Mr. Herrick,\" she called out to him. \"Have you any news?\" And then,\n\"Please don't hesitate. I can bear it! I can't bear suspense!\"\n\"News?\" he queried.\n\"Of Nancy!\"\nHe cursed himself for not having known that that would be her first\nthought. \"I'm sorry and ashamed, Miss Hope. I've no news of her at all.\"\nChristina's legs gave way under her, and she sat down on the stairs.\nHerrick's chagrin and discomfiture were extreme. She paid no further\nattention to him. Dropping her head on her clenched hands, \"Oh! Oh! Oh!\"\nshe said.\nMrs. Hope came out of a room at the back, and, passing Herrick with as\nlittle ceremony as even her daughter had displayed, caught hold of\nChristina's wrists and shook her sharply.\n\"Christina!\" she exclaimed. \"Christina! Now, there has been quite enough\nof this!\"\nChristina did not seem to resent this summary treatment. She began to\nsob more quietly, until she suddenly burst forth, \"Where is she, then?\nCan you tell me that? Where is she?\"\n\"I don't care where she is!\" cried poor Mrs. Hope. \"Or, at least, now\nyou know very well what I mean, my dear. I can't have you going on in\nthis hysterical way all the time, when you've rehearsals to attend to.\nNancy probably went away to get out of all the disagreeable notoriety\nthat you've got into. And I'm sure she's very well off.\"\n\"Where is she, then?\" Christina wailed. She seemed to have an\nextraordinary capacity for sticking to her point. \"With all the police\nin New York looking for her, where is she?\"\n\"Well, she hasn't been murdered, as you seem to think! If she had been,\nshe'd be found. If people kill people, they have to do something with\ntheir bodies! But if people are alive, they can do something with\nthemselves!\"\nChristina shuddered.\n\"Now, my dear,\" said her mother, \"it's very high time that we apologized\nto Mr. Herrick, who must think us mad. But let me tell you this. I am\nnot going to have you go on the stage in a month looking like your own\nghost and all unstrung. I'm not going to have the play ruined by you,\nand have you turn Mr. Wheeler and all of them into your enemies. It\nwould be better for them to get some one else. You don't sleep, you\nwon't eat, and you sit brooding all the time, as if you were looking at\nnightmares. Well, if you don't get some kind of hold over yourself\nwithin the next day or two, I shall tell Mr. Wheeler that you are\nnervously unfit to be entrusted with a part, and I am taking you away.\"\nChristina sat for an appreciable time without moving. Then she slowly\nlifted her face and smiled at Herrick with her wet eyes. \"We have\ntreated you to a strange scene,\" she said. \"It is our bad hour.\nBut--sometimes--we can be really nice.\" She held out her hand. Then,\nbecoming aware of herself sitting on the steps, and of her mother and\nHerrick standing before her, \"'Have we no chears?'\" she quoted; and,\nspringing up, she led the way into the little white room.\nHerrick found that it was only he who followed her there. Mrs. Hope,\nhaving dealt with the emergency, had again retreated; evidently feeling\nthat Christina, even in tears, was quite capable of entertaining a young\nman single handed.\nBut when he was seated near her, Herrick was shocked by the girl's\nappearance. It was not only that her face was worn with anxiety, but\nthat, in twenty-four hours, she seemed actually to have lost flesh. The\nlovely outline of her cheek was sunken and the jaw sharpened; if it were\npossible to be paler than she had been yesterday, she was paler now. She\nlooked so fine and light and frail that it seemed as if the beating of\nher heart must show through her body, and all during the talk that\nfollowed, Herrick had the sense of her bright, still eyes being\nconcentrated in expectation,--almost, as it were, in listening,--through\nher thick, wet lashes; the gentle wildness of some woodland animal\nlistens so for the moving of a twig. She was dressed in white serge with\na knot of the marigolds in her belt, and they seemed like a kind of\nbright wound in the tragic pallor of her weariness.\nThe cause of his visit seemed more than ever an impertinence, but it\nmust be faced, and he began to stumble out the story of his Sunday\nspecial.\n\"There's the old argument that it must be done by somebody. Only, of\ncourse, without your sanction, it will never be done by me. I've\nventured to bring it to you,\" said he, guiltily producing the article\nwhich he had sat up all night to typewrite. \"If I might, I'd leave it\nhere, and the maid could give it to me when I called for it--you would\nonly have had to run your pencil through anything that distressed you. I\nknow how distasteful the idea--the horribly melodramatic and sensational\nidea--must be to you--\"\n\"Oh, well, I don't know that I joined a profession so retiring as all\nthat!\" Christina said, and she held out her hand for the manuscript. She\nseemed to weigh this for a moment, and then she handed it back to\nHerrick unopened. \"No,--say what you please of me. It is sure to be only\ntoo good. Well, and if not?--What does it matter?\" She closed her eyes,\nand the terrible fatigue of her face brought him to his feet. At the\nsame time, he knew his story was amazingly good, and, despite his\ntremors, he couldn't help wanting her to read it.\n\"But--\" he ventured.\n\"Well, then, I will tell you what we can do--give it to my mother. You\nwill need it at once? She can have read it by tea-time. You may be quite\neasy that if there is anything in it which can injure me I shall break\nthe news to you, over your tea-cup, that it is in ashes. Will that\ndo?--Ada,\" she said to the maid, \"please take this in to my mother and\nask her to read it at once. She's alone, isn't she?\"\n\"Please, ma'am, Mrs. Deutch is with her.\"\n\"Then they can both read it.\"\nHerrick expressed his thanks and added, \"About five, then, I may come\nback?\"\nChristina opened her eyes full on him; glancing from the porti\u00e8res to\nthe softly curtained windows between which they two were completely\nalone, \"Is it so terrible here?\" she inquired.\nHerrick sat down.\nShe waited for him to speak and he had something on his conscience. He\ntold her, then and there, about the voice in his dream which had said to\nhim, \"Ask Nancy Cornish!\" The little nerves in her skin trembled and he,\ntoo, felt a superstitious thrill. \"But I must suppose, now, that I\ndidn't dream it at all. Some one in that room must have called it\nout--perhaps when they saw her card on the piano. I was in a pretty\nfidgety state,--to speak grandly, an electric state,--and, being just on\nthe sensitive borderline between sleeping and waking, I suppose I simply\nhappened to catch it--like a wireless at sea.\"\n\"Ask Nancy Cornish!\" Christina repeated. \"Ask Nancy--ah, if we could!\nWhat kind of voice was it? Should you recognize it, do you think, if you\nheard it again?\"\n\"How could I? I'm scarcely even sure that I heard a voice.\"\n\"Only that you heard a shot and had to help! And didn't it occur to you\nthat it might have been the woman who fired? I see--you don't think of\nwomen in that way. The reason I didn't ask you, yesterday, to call\nhere,\" Christina volunteered, \"was that I didn't want you to come.\"\nShe made this rude announcement with an effect of such good faith that\nHerrick laughed, \"Ah, well, it's too late for that! I'm here!\"\n\"Exactly! But not through me. My friends come to no good, Mr.\nHerrick--they are parted from me by a trouble as wide as the world, or\nelse--\" She put one hand over her eyes. \"What is it?--a curse, a\ndarkness?--I don't know! It's like a trap! It's as if vengeance baited a\ncircle with me and, whenever a kindness advanced toward me, the trap\nfell. Even my poor Herr Hermy, who lost his picture-shop with the plush\ncurtains, may lose his superintendency because I sent Mr. Ingham to his\nhouse. You would do better to take my word; to believe me when I tell\nyou that somehow I bring danger. What have I done? What does it mean? I\ncan't tell you. It's always been so. I'm like some bird that brings the\nstorm on its wings, it doesn't know why. Life's hard for me, that's\nall.\" She pushed up her hair with the backs of her hands,--the quaint\nlittle gesture that he loved. \"But what use is there in saying all this\nto frighten you. Something tells me you will never be afraid. Well,\nthen, if you come here against my will, is that my fault? You do wish to\nbefriend me? Isn't that true?\"\n\"It's the biggest truth in my life,\" Herrick replied.\n\"You see. I, who am so unlucky, what am I to do? If ever a poor girl\nneeded a friend, I am that girl. But I don't dare let you touch my need.\nI don't know what it may do to you.\"\nHerrick answered her with a smile--\"And I don't care.\"\nShe, too, smiled. It began to be borne in upon Herrick how great, when\nshe chose to exercise it, was her self-control. She could talk to him\nwith one part of her mind while the other was still listening, peering,\nquesting, trembling for some fatal news. And he was suddenly aware of\nher murmuring--\n    \"'Vous qui m'avez tant puni,\n    Dans ma triste vie--'\"\n\"Well, then,\" she said, \"if you must,--I want something. Not protection,\nnot pity, not championship; I'm a little in your own line, you know, I'm\nnot easily frightened.\n    \"'Je suis aussi sans d\u00e9sir\n    Autre que d'en bien finir--\n    Sans regret, sans repentir--'\n\"I don't know if you read Peter Ibbetson?\"\n\"Raised on it!\" Herrick said.\n\"Well, then, you understand things--I don't mean merely his French\nsongs! And that is exactly what I want--to be quite simply and sensibly\nand decently understood! I am a more successful actress than you\nrealize, you backward Easterners, and I am treated like a goddess, a bad\nchild, a sibyl, an adventuress, a crazy woman. I should like to speak\nnow and then with some one who knew that I was nothing but a lonely girl\nwith some brains in her head, who often took herself too seriously and\nsometimes, alas! not seriously enough; who was capricious and perverse\nbut not a coward, and oh, who meant so well! Such a person would\nsometimes say, 'She was silly to-day, but by this time she is ashamed.\nShe had a strange girlhood and they taught her very bad manners, but she\nis not a fool and she will learn.' Well, I will not have any common\nperson thinking like that about me! It takes an artist to understand an\nartist! You think me very arrogant to speak like that of you and me,\nbecause, at the bottom of your heart, you have the arrogance of all the\nworld--you do not admit that an actress really is an artist! Wait a\nlittle, and you shall own that I am one. At any rate, I know a bit of\nother people's art; it's my pride I was among the first to be made happy\nby yours--and oh, but I could do very well with a friend I could be\nproud of!\"--It was not very long before he had embarked upon the history\nof his novel.\nHe went on and on; he explained to her Ten Euyck's thrust about the\nphotograph; he told her of Evadne and of Sal. The first thing she said\nto him was--\"Is there a play in it?\"\n\"I tried it as a play first, but--\"\n\"Oh, surely, the novel's better first! You can get it all out of your\nsystem in the novel, and then we could drain it of the pure gold for my\nend of it--for the play! You'd never sell it over my head! Why, I could\nhave you up,--couldn't I?--for plagiarism! Do you know how you can keep\nme agreeable? Bring it to me here, when my rehearsals are over, and read\nit to me--it will please me and it can do you no harm. If you find me\nstupid, say to yourself, 'She is drunk with pleasure, poor thing, at\nwhat I have made of her.' Oh, you'd never have the heart to publish my\nportrait, and not let me see the proof!\"\nThe compact was concluded as the maid entered with the tea things. Mrs.\nHope came in radiant. She began to thank Herrick for his article, and\nChristina said, \"Where is Mrs. Deutch?\"\n\"She is in the sitting-room. She says she must go home.\"\nChristina went and parted the porti\u00e8res and Herrick heard her speaking\nwith a kind of sweet authority in German, of which he caught the\nphrase--\"Yes, you will stay! You will certainly stay!\" She waited there\ntill her friend joined her, and then, returning, she took charge of the\ntea-table.\nHenrietta Deutch was a large, handsome woman of about forty-five, too\nstout, but of a matronly dignity; her beautiful coloring was blended\ninto a smooth, rich surface as foreign-looking as lacquer. So far as he\nwas capable of perceiving anything but Christina, Herrick perceived that\nnot only her physical but her social stature was higher than her\nhusband's; she was neither ignorant nor fussy; she was a person of large\nsilences, as well, he imagined, as of grave sympathies; for her age she\nwas, to an American, strangely old-fashioned but, despite her addiction\nto black silk and the incessant knitting of white woolen clouds, she\nhad, in her continental youth, received an excellent formal education\n\"with accomplishments.\"\n\"Tante Deutch,\" said Christina, \"this is our new friend, Mr. Herrick,\nwho stood up for us against that man.\"\nThe little maid continued to throw out signals of distress and Mrs.\nHope, going to her relief, was heard to say, \"Well, she'll use her\nwhite one.\" She explained to Christina, \"It's only about laying out your\nthings for to-night. She can't find your blue cloak--you know, the long\none with the hood--\"\n\"I am very glad to know you, sir,\" said Mrs. Deutch. \"Christina, my\nlamb, you are ill!\"\n\"No, I am not ill. But I am distracted. Sugar, Mr. Herrick? Lemon? My\nhand shakes and if the coroner were here he would say it was with guilt.\nPoor soul, what a disappointment!\"\n\"Christina!\" exclaimed Mrs. Hope. \"Don't laugh!\"\n\"I am not laughing. I think the man a dangerous enemy and now he is my\nenemy. He will never forgive me for letting him make himself ridiculous.\nHe is too righteous to forget a grudge, for any one who earns such a\nthing from the excellent Peter Winthrop Brewster Cuyler Ten Euyck\nbecomes a criminal by that action. 'Winthrop.' Of course there had to be\nthe New England strain--he was born to wear a steeple hat and snoop for\nwitches! May he never light the faggots about me!\"\n\"Now, my dear, you are working yourself up!\"\n\"Dear mother, you are a bit hard to please! First you tell me not to\nlaugh and then you reproach me with working myself up! But you are\nright! Why should I fash myself over a man with a personality like a\npair of shears? Ah, if I could get news of Nancy, my hand would be\nsteady enough!\"\n\"You'll have news of Nancy when she gets ready!\" declared Mrs. Hope,\nwith the maternal freedom of speech toward our dearest friends, \"An\nungrateful, stubborn, secretive girl!\"\n\"My mother,\" said Christina, \"is enthusiastic but inaccurate. She means\nthat Nancy is neither voluble nor impulsive, like the paragon before\nyou, and that though her affection is steady it is not easily dazzled.\nWe have been friends scarcely more than four years--since she made her\nfirst five dollars a week as part of a stage-mob--but I knew her at\nonce for the little real sister of my heart. I told you I'd always been\na lonely girl, Mr. Herrick, and that soft, little touch came close on my\nloneliness, like a child's. I have succeeded and she has not; I am the\nworld's own daughter--I know the world and she does not; my hands are\nvery keen, believe me, for the power and the glory--after all, one must\nhave something!--and she can only put hers into mine. But where I am\nweak, she is strong. One can't ask one's family to forgive that!\" said\nChristina. And with a tempestuous swoop she handed him a photograph upon\nwhich, whether for newspapers or detectives, had been pasted some\nmemoranda. \"This is more to the point.\"\nHe beheld a charming little face, fresh and pretty, quaintly feminine,\nwith sensible and resolute brows to balance the wistfulness of the soft\nmouth; a face at once grave and glad, with a deep dimple softening the\nstubborn little chin. Herrick, studying the memoranda, compared them\nwith his own vague memories and the photograph.\nHeight, five feet, four inches.\nWeight, a hundred and twenty pounds.\nAge, twenty years.\nComplexion, fair.\nHair, dark auburn and curling.\nEyes, blue.\nWearing, when last seen, a white organdie dress with lace insertion;\nwhite shoes, stockings and gloves; small straw hat, dull green, trimmed\nwith violets; carried a white embroidered linen sunshade and a small\npurse-bag, green su\u00e8de with silver monogram, \"A. C.\" No jewelry of any\nvalue. Wearing round her neck a string of green beads. Missing from her\neffects and commonly worn by her, two bangle bracelets--one silver, one\njade. One silver locket. One scarab ring, bluish-green Egyptian\nturquoise, set in silver. Last seen on West Eighty --th Street,\nwalking east, at five o'clock in the afternoon of August fourth.\nIt was now August seventh; she had been missing for three days.\n\"Where is she?\"\n\"And I thought it strange enough, before the inquest, that I was in such\ntrouble and didn't hear from her! Mother, you say she is hiding herself.\nBut,--all alone? I have telegraphed and telephoned everywhere, to every\none! And then--does a girl throw down her work, her engagement, for\nnothing, without a syllable, and disappear! Her things are all at Mrs.\nMcBride's; her bill for her room is still going on; she was to have gone\nout to an opening that night with Susie Grayce! She hadn't a valise with\nher, not a change of clothes! She turned east from Jim Ingham's doorway,\nand that's all!\" Christina was beginning to lose control of herself; she\nlooked as if her teeth were going to chatter.\n\"Now, my pretty--\" began Mrs. Deutch.\n\"Turned east?\" ruminated Mrs. Hope. \"East? That's toward the park. She\nmight have been going to meet--Well, Christina!\"\nFor the hand which Christina had criticized as trembling had dropped the\ntea-pot. This must have dropped rather hard, for it broke to pieces.\nEverything was deluged with tea.\n\"My sweeting!\" cried Mrs. Deutch. \"Move yet a little!\" For she was\nalready at work upon the disaster which was threatening Christina's\nwhite gown. The fragments of the wreck were cleared away, and while\nfresh tea was being made Christina urged Mrs. Deutch to play \"and get me\nquiet.\"\n\"Yes, you will play. You will play for me and for Mr. Herrick. Mr.\nHerrick is not one of these deaf Yankees--don't you remember what he\nwrote about the music in Berlin?\"\n\"So!\" said Mrs. Deutch. \"In Berlin! Is it so!\" She went seriously to\nthe piano where she executed some equally serious music with admirable\ntechnique and some feeling, but her performance was scarcely so\nremarkable as to account for Christina's extreme eagerness.\nWhen she had finished Herrick took himself unwillingly away, and was\nstill so agitated by the sweetness of Christina's farewell that after he\nhad got himself into the hall he dropped his glove. The little maid who\nhad opened the door for him, let it slam as she sprang to pick up the\nglove, and at the closing of the door he heard Christina's voice break\nhysterically forth, and rise above some remonstrance of her mother's.\n\"Yes, you do. You spy on me, both of you.\"\n\"But, my little one--\" ejaculated Mrs. Deutch.\n\"You spy on me, you whisper, you stare, you guess, you talk! Talk! Talk!\nAnd you remember nothing that I tell you! I shall go mad! I am among\nspies in my own house!\"\nHerrick quickened his petrified muscles and went. Even to his\ninfatuation it occurred that whatever might have been the faults of\nJames Ingham, Christina herself was a person with whom it would not be\ntoo difficult to quarrel.\nCHAPTER II\nIN WHICH A MYSTERIOUS ARM IS OUTSTRETCHED\nIt was not because this reflection was in any way cooling to his love\nthat Herrick did not see again, for some days, the lady of his heart. He\nwas, perhaps, not very self-assured. Yet when his story of the murder\nand the inquest appeared he became a marked man. He awoke to find\nhimself famous, and to be summoned to another interview at the Ingham\npublishing house.\nThere seemed to be no thought of allowing the prestige of \"Ingham's\" to\nperish with its brilliant junior partner. Ingham, senior, who for years\nhad been only nominally its head, intended to resume active work once\nmore, at least until the younger son should have finished college and\ngone into training for his brother's place. Perhaps the real pillar of\nthe house was Corey; and Corey remained, to sustain both father and son.\nAnd they had all three agreed not to forsake the new, the yet unborn\nenterprise of _Ingham's Weekly_. \"Mr. James Ingham was wrapped up in\nit,\" Corey told Herrick, whom he had met with the kindest compliments,\n\"and his father can't bear that all his work should be wasted now.\nBesides, in the whole of the business, it's the thing that most\ninterests young Mr. Stanley, and it seems to me the place where the boy\nmay be most of use. We want the _Weekly_ to be a real force, Mr.\nHerrick, and in its first number we shall want to give up the usual\neditorial pages to a memoir of its founder and his ideals for it. Mr.\nHerrick, if we could induce you to undertake that memoir we should think\nourselves extremely fortunate.\"\nHerrick could not believe his ears; it seemed such a strange sequel to a\nkind of police report, however able, for the Sunday papers. There began\nto be something uncanny to him about his connection with Ingham's death\nand how it continued to seem his Open Sesame to fortune. But he was glad\nenough and grateful enough. He ventured to send Christina a note telling\nher that her new friend was now being pursued by good not evil fortune\nand her reply came in the same mail with a letter from his sister to\nwhom he had written for details about Nancy Cornish.\nMarion remembered only that Nancy's parents had been killed in a runaway\nwhen she was about fourteen and that Nancy had gone out West\nsomewhere,--to Portland, Oregon, Marion thought, to live with an\nuncle--and had gradually ceased to write. Of this uncle's name or\naddress both Marion and the principal of the school which both girls had\nattended were amiably ignorant.\n\"There's only one thing I'm positive about; she was the best little soul\nalive. Never in this world did she go to that man's rooms to tell tales\nof her friend. She never told tales. She was a natural born\nhero-worshiper; the most loyal child I ever saw and the most generous,\nthe bravest, the lovingest, the most devoted. If she went to Mr. Ingham,\nit wasn't to injure that Christina Hope; it was to help her out of some\nscrape. She was just the kind of girl to be taken in by a woman like\nthat, whom I must say sounds--\"\nHerrick dropped this letter to return to that other which it cannot be\ndenied he had read first. It was directed in a penmanship new to him but\nrecognized at once in every nerve, and he had drawn forth Christina's\nnote with that strange thrill which stirs in us at the first sight of\nthe handwriting of the beloved. She thanked him, with a certain shyness,\nfor his news. It was so good one must take it with their breath held!\nAnd now she had a favor to ask. Stanley Ingham had gone home to\nSpringfield for the week-end, but he had just telephoned her that he\nwould be back in town on Tuesday morning, by the train which got in to\nthe Grand Central at eleven thirty-five. He had some news for her but\nshe would be at rehearsal; she should not see him until the evening, and\nshe was naturally an impatient person. Would not Mr. Herrick humor a\nspoiled girl, meet the train and bring her the news at about noon to a\ncertain little tea-room of which she gave him the address. \"You may find\nit a great bore. They are supposed to let us out for an hour, like the\nshop-girls. But, alas! they don't do it so regularly. They may push us\nstraight through till mid-afternoon. But I know you will have patience\nwith my eagerness to hear any news where it need not trouble my mother.\nShe has had anxiety enough.\" It may be taken as a measure of Herrick's\ninfatuation that he saw nothing in this letter which was not angelic.\nThe Grand Central Station, however, is no sylvan spot and Herrick\nwondered how he should recognize an unknown Stanley Ingham among the\nhordes swarming in its vast marble labyrinth. But that gentleman proved\nto be a lively youth of about twenty, who plucked Herrick from the crowd\nwithout hesitation and led him to a secluded seat with that air of\ndeferential protection which a really smart chap owes it to himself to\nshow to age. His collar was so high that it was remarkable how\npowerfully he had established winking terms with the world over the top\nof it, but he stooped to account for himself at once as an emissary of\nChristina's.\n\"She wired me to see you here, and here I am. You know I'm the bearer of\nsome new exhibits for the police. We think we've struck a new trail.\nAfter I've handed 'em over I'm dining with Miss Hope, and as she'd have\nheard all about 'em then, should think she might have waited. Still, you\nknow how women are!\n\"In the first place,\" young Mr. Ingham continued, \"we want you, we want\neverybody, to know we're Miss Hope's friends. We want to go on record\nthat the way she's been knocked around in this thing has been simply\ndamnable, and, if poor old Jim were alive--\"\nHe stopped. At the mention of his brother a moisture, which Herrick knew\nhe considered the last word of shame, rose in his eyes; behind his high\ncollar something swelled and impeded his utterance. Then Mr. Stanley\nIngham became once more a man of the world.\n\"You can take it from me that if you hadn't treated her as jolly well as\nyou did in that capital article of yours, we shouldn't be trying to\nlasso you now onto the staff of the _Weekly_.\" Herrick started, but the\nman of the world was not easily checked. \"You were awfully decent, you\nknow, to all of us, and Corey was all the more pleased because\nthat--that last day, old Jim was down at the office till three\no'clock--the first day after he was home, too,--working like a dog, and\nyet when he found that letter of Rennett's introducing you he was as\npleased as Punch, and when he made the appointment with you for next\nday, he said to Corey, 'People are taking that boy pretty easy yet\nawhile, but he's the best short-story writer on this side of the\nAtlantic; and if he's really got a novel about him, the old house will\nshow him it's still awake.'\" The man of the world repeated these phrases\nwith an innocent satisfaction in having them at first hand, and\nHerrick's own heart went questing into the future.\nThen his attention returned to the words of his young friend. \"We don't\nthink we've done enough for her, and we want to do all we can do.\"\n\"Miss Hope?\"\n\"Of course. You see, we don't any of us feel she was wrong in quarreling\nwith Jim--except the mater, who thinks she ought to have let him cut her\nthroat for breakfast every morning and damned glad to get him--and,\nconsidering everything, we think she let him down pretty easy at the\ninquest. There's no denying the dear old fellow had been a gay one in\nhis time, and, of course, he drove a high-spirited girl like that\nfrantic with a lot of antiquated notions about the stage. You see, he\nwas pretty close to thirty-five, and when a man gets along about there\nhe's apt to lose touch with what's going on. Well, having her in our pew\nand our carriage at the funeral didn't shut all the fools' mouths in New\nYork nor Springfield either! So now we're going to do something really\nswotting--we've taken a box for her first night, and we're going to get\nmother into it, mourning and all, if we have to bring her in a bag. It's\nour duty. Read that.\"\n     \"My dear and kind Mr. Ingham (ran Christina's letter): You must try\n     and be patient with me, and not think hardly of me, when I tell you\n     that I can not profit by the terms of Jim's will. He made those\n     provisions for the girl who was to be his wife, and not for me who\n     never could be.\n     \"As I write this I feel your good heart harden to me, with the\n     sense that I never loved him. But oh, believe me!--time was when I\n     loved him better than earth or heaven. We couldn't agree, he and I.\n     Let it remain my consolation that between us there was never any\n     question of expedient nor compromise.\n     \"If she can bear it, give my love to his mother.\n     \"My heart is full of fondest gratitude to all that family which I\n     should have been so proud to enter. And do you keep a little\n     kindness for your unhappy,\n\"What do you think of that? Won't take a cent! You can easily see,\"\ncommented the wise one, \"that they'd have made it up all right. Splendid\ngirl! Best thing the poor old chap ever did was trying to get her into\nthe family. I don't suppose you're as hipped about her good looks as I\nam? Takes a special kind of eye, I fancy! I snaked this particularly to\nshow you--but we want everybody to know she's turned down the coin. And\nwe're going to have the beast that fired that shot if he's alive on this\nplanet. 'Tisn't only on Jim's account! It's for her--it's the only way\nyou can knock that damned lie on the head about her being up there in\nhis rooms that night.--Chris! Why, she's a regular kid! And the\nstraightest kid that ever lived! We mean to keep the police hot at it.\nAnd look here what I'm turning in to them!\"\nIt was a typewritten envelope, postmarked \"New York City\" and addressed\nto Mr. James Ingham.\n\"We found it, opened, in his desk at the office,\" the boy explained.\n\"But we've only just got it away from my mother.\" Its contents were a\npiece of red ribbon and a single sheet of paper, closely typed.\n     The Arm of Justice warns Mr. James Ingham--\n(\"Is this a joke?\") \"Go on! Read it!\"\n    --warns Mr. James Ingham that it demands ten thousand dollars. (\"By\n    George!\") If Mr. Ingham wisely decides to grant this application, he\n    will tie the enclosed ribbon to the frame work of his awning on the\n    afternoon of August fourth, at four o'clock. It will be seen by an\n    agent of the Society, who will then advise Mr. Ingham as to how and\n    where the money may be paid. If Mr. Ingham decides against the\n    application, he will do nothing.\n    But in that case he must be prepared for the publication of a\n    paragraph in the _Voice of Justice_, beginning--\"There has recently\n    come to light an episode in the career of Mr. James Ingham, the\n    well-known publisher, eldest son of Robert Ingham of Springfield and\n    New York, who is engaged to be married to the popular actress,\n    Christina Hope--\"\n    It will go on to relate the story of his association with a young,\n    pure and helpless girl eight years ago; how he betrayed her, and,\n    after a promise of marriage--she being then destitute--abandoned\n    her. It will tell this girl's name and where she is. It will give\n    all names in connection with the affair. It will publish letters\n    that passed between Mr. Ingham and this young girl, corroborating\n    the worst that has been said.\n    Mr. Ingham knows the standards of society, the reputation, the\n    probity and the justice of his father, and also the temper of Miss\n    Christina Hope. Mr. Ingham is the best judge of whether or not it\n    will be wise to pay for silence.\n\"That's all!\" exclaimed Stanley Ingham, as if the absence of signature\nwere really remarkable. \"Well, how's that! Poor old chap, you know--how\ndare they!\" He reddened. \"Because, hang it all, of course a man has to\nbe a man, and you've got to be liberal-minded and all that; but, just\nthe same, a fellow that would do what that thing says--why, he'd be\nregularly rotten! You can't deny it, he'd be rotten.\"\nHerrick sat dumb. Words of Christina's were passing in his mind.--\"I\nwill never tell you the cause of our quarrel. It was simply something\nmonstrous which happened a long time ago.\" Because he had to say\nsomething, he said--\"And you're taking this in to the police?\"\n\"Yes. Isn't it a mercy Jim didn't destroy it? Meant it for the\ndetectives himself, I dare say. Perhaps his not hanging out that piece\nof ribbon didn't have anything to do with his death. And perhaps it did.\nAnyhow, wait a bit--I'm a walking post-office this morning. Here's the\nlast exhibit!\" And he plumped down on Herrick's knee the duplicate of\nthe typewritten envelope. The postmark, however, was dated August ninth,\nand it was directed to Ingham senior.\n\"It opened with the same formalities, but this time its threat ran--\n     \"The _Voice_ will relate the actual circumstances connected with\n     the death of Mr. James Ingham--\"\n\"Jove!\" cried Herrick, \"that would be something!\"\n\"Wait till you read 'em!\"\n\"It will not pause after the story of the young girl whom Ingham\nabandoned years ago. It will tell how, on the eve of his departure for\nEurope, just such a story was re\u00ebnacted, but this time with a close\nfriend of his intended bride, an actress named Ann Cornish; who, on his\nreturn, appealed to him for the only reparation in his power; even\nslandering her friend Christina Hope in the attempt to win him back.\nFailing in this, she fled, and disappeared--perhaps destroyed herself.\nIt will tell how Miss Hope suspected the intrigue, having quarreled\nabout it with her lover the day before, when he denied all knowledge of\nNancy Cornish; how, suspecting an appointment for the evening instead of\nthe afternoon of August fourth, Miss Hope disguised herself in a red wig\nand dabs of paint about her eyes and penetrated to Ingham's apartment;\nhow, finding no one there, she was placated until she spied Nancy\nCornish's card on the piano and how then a terrible quarrel arose; the\nexcitable young woman, springing in front of the window with her arm\noutstretched, the fingers slowly spreading and stiffening in the air,\nuttered a terrible, low cry, and snatching up Ingham's revolver from the\ntable at the head of the couch, shot him dead. It will follow the flight\nof Miss Hope exactly as she described it at the inquest--out through\nthe door which Ingham must have bolted behind her. She ran upstairs and\nescaped over the roof into the apartment house next door. It was a\nterribly hot night, and, against all rules, the roof-doors of both\napartment houses had been fastened back. Miss Hope came quietly\ndownstairs, passed through an entrance hall, empty of the boy who had\nrun to join the crowd in the street, and walked away. This will be the\nconclusion of the narrative.\"\nCHAPTER III\nHERRICK GUESSES AT THE MYSTERY AND GETS IN SOMETHING'S WAY\nThe light in the little tea-room was rather dim. Christina spread out\nHerrick's copies of the two blackmailing letters upon the table and\nstudied them, propping her chin on her hands. Herrick, in surrendering\nthem, had dreaded the squalid clutch which they laid upon herself. But\nwhen she lifted her eyes it was to say--\"We must never let them credit\nthis trash about Nancy!\"\n\"None of it, then--?\"\n\"Not a syllable! Not a breath!--Jim! Little she cared for Jim, poor\nchild! She was unhappy, but not with that unhappiness. It's true her\nonly love-affair had come to grief. That's what my mother means by\ncalling her secretive--even I have never been able to get out of her\nwhat happened to it. But disgrace--run away! Disgrace could never have\nlooked at her, and never in her life did she run away from anything! And\nif she were alive and free, anywhere upon this earth, the first word\nagainst me would have brought her back. She would butt walls down, with\nher little red head, to stand by a friend's side!\"\n\"That's what my sister says. It's odd!\"\n\"Odd?\"\n\"I mean--Well, there's the circumstance that the hour when she called on\nIngham was the hour when the ribbon was to have signaled from the\nwindow. And she didn't give her name, you know; she said, 'The lady he\nexpects.' Then one remembers that this mysterious woman who passed Joe\nhad red hair. Joe says she had on a white lace dress, Miss Hope--well,\nMiss Cornish was in white with lace trimming. He mistook her for you.\nStill, he was very sleepy, and though she's not so tall as you are,\nshe's not short, and she's very slender, too. Forgive me for making you\nimpatient. But the boy's devoted to you, isn't he?\"\n\"I suppose so,\" Christina ingenuously replied.\n\"Well, he knows, now, that Nancy Cornish is your dear friend. I can't\naltogether rely upon his not recognizing her photograph.\"\n\"I can,\" said Christina, almost tartly. \"White--everybody's in white. I\nwore a white dress that night, myself. It wasn't Nancy. You may put that\nout of your mind.\"\nHerrick considered. \"That business of the variegated eyes--people seem\nto suppose he threw it in for good measure. But could such an effect be\nproduced by make-up?\"\n\"I think not. On the stage we generally use blue pencil to darken our\nlashes. Well, once in a way, some one from the front assures us that we\nhave blue eyes. Or else brown, if we use brown. But close to, and--and\nin combination--surely not! And why try so thin a disguise?\"\n\"To suggest a striking mark of identification which does not really\nexist. That would explain so much. Why she was willing to make a\nconspicuous impression on the boy--she may have been a dark woman, you\nknow, in a red wig, only too glad to leave behind her the picture of a\nblonde. There always lingers the impression that it may have been some\none whom Joe knew, or was used to seeing, and that it was merely this\nvague familiarity which he recognized before he had time to be taken in\nby her disguise. Ingham was on his mind; that may have been why he first\nthought of you.--Miss Hope, do you know what other impression, or\nsuperstition, or whatever you like, I can't get rid of? That the\nmystery of who fired the shot is part of the answer to the mystery of\nthat bolted door. When we know how he got out, we shall know who he\nwas.\"\n\"He?\"\n\"Well--man or woman. It's ridiculous, it's silly, but I feel as if that\npersonality were somehow still imprisoned in those rooms. As though, if\nwe knew how to look, it would be there and there only we should find the\ntruth.\"\nChristina murmured a soft sound of regret and wonder. \"What a strange\nthing! His poor mother--she feels so, too! She won't have a thing in his\nrooms touched till the lease is up. She says the secret is still there.\"\nHe loved the pity in Christina's face. And then he watched her\nreabsorption in the letters. But though they absorbed, they did not\nimpress her. They somehow seemed even to bring her mind relief.\n\"Heavens!\" said she, presently. \"Is it altogether a bad joke?--'The Arm\nof Justice!'\"\n\"I did think at first they were a hoax of some sort. But the Inghams are\nfar from thinking so.\"\n\"They think--?\"\n\"Yes. They've accepted these letters as changing the whole course of the\ninvestigation. They believe now that the scandalous, the personal motive\nwas an entirely wrong lead; that Ingham was murdered in cold blood, as a\nmatter of business; that the woman was only a cat's paw. And they're\nlooking for a man.\"\n\"Dear God!\" said Christina. \"How hot it is in here! That fan--can't they\nstart it?\" She took off her hat; the cool air from the fan came about\nher face, carrying to Herrick's nostrils a scent of larkspur and verbena\nand candy-tuft (how she clung to those garden flowers!), and she closed\nher eyes.\nHerrick sat watching her with concern. He thought of how she had said\nher mother had had anxiety enough. It seemed now, to Herrick, that\nChristina, too, had had anxiety enough. \"Evadne!\" he said, suddenly.\nShe opened her eyes, smiling at him.\n\"You know I have known you very intimately and served you very\nfaithfully for an immensely long time. I am your author, and I'm going\nto bully you. I want you to drop all this! What is it to you? Something\nhideous, that's over. In no way can the miserable muck of these letters\ntouch you! Let the Inghams and the police and the District Attorney\nworry--it's their business. It's your business to make beautiful things\nfor the world. Dear Evadne, you've got to possess your own soul if\nyou're going to polish up ours! Forget these lies!\"\nIt was rather late in the little restaurant and they were the only\npatrons. After a moment the girl leaned toward him, and laid her hand on\nhis.\n\"I will try!\" she said, gently. \"And you will dine with us to-night? And\nStan can tell what the detectives say to you, and not to me? Oh, please!\nYou are right. I want to forget. I am worn out, my soul and my body; my\nheart's drying up. Nancy! Nancy! Oh, Nancy! If I could only know about\nNancy! But for the rest, I don't care. You are my friend, and I will\ntell you something. Whenever they've wanted to show me they didn't think\nme a murderess, they've said, 'Of course, my dear, you're as eager to\nhave the criminal caught as any of us.' It's false! Why should I wish\nfor anything so horrible?\"\nHe looked at her with a start of wonder that was half agreement.\n\"In what age are we living that I am expected to enjoy an execution? Do\nyou know what one's like? I've been on trial for my life now, and I've\nbeen reading it up! They--\"\n\"Hush!\" said Herrick, sternly.\n\"But isn't it wicked? Why should I wish that done?--to man or\nwoman?--Or to lock some one up for life--that's worse! Why should it\namuse me to have people tortured? Who tortured Jim? Poor fellow, he\nscarcely could have known! Why should they suffer more than he? For the\nact of one little minute to burn in fire all the rest of one's life. Oh,\nmy good friend, what's the use of pretending? We know perfectly well\nthat some girl's despair may have fired that shot, that if she had a\nbrother or a lover--Can't you stop them, Mr. Herrick? Must they go\nfrothing on in this man-hunt? It's to clear my name? My name's my own; I\nwon't have it put up against any human being's misery! If they catch and\nkill some unhappy creature for my sake--it will kill me, too. I shall\ndie of it!\"\n\"What you'll do now,\" said Herrick, \"is to come out of here into the\nsunlight, and get some air before you go back to rehearsal.\"\nShe let him walk with her to the stage-door, and before it swallowed\nher, she abruptly and almost gaily soliloquized, \"A man! A man wrote\nthose letters! Does one man send a piece of ribbon to another, and ask\nhim to hang it out of his window? Do you mean, to tell me that it was a\nman who made that remark about my temper? 'The Arm of Justice' forsooth!\nThere's a female idea of a brigand.\"\nIt was plain that she inclined to believe the blackmailer some mercenary\ntrickster, who knew no more of the murder than herself. Some woman, she\nsaid. But there were two persons in Joe Patrick's testimony. And Herrick\nbelieved there were two in the attempted blackmail. As to their\nknowledge of Ingham's death, one circumstance appeared to him highly\nsignificant; the changed standpoint of the second letter! He said to\nhimself, \"The first is obviously sincere; it was written in the genuine\nhope of getting money out of Ingham by a person who really felt that he\nor she had a case. And the second is nothing on earth but an attempt to\ndivert suspicion from the murderer by a lot of villainous poppycock.\nBetween the writing of those two letters they lost their case and they\nlost their nerve. Suppose the first letter had been written by a\nwoman,--by a woman of some cultivation, with a very strong taste for\nexpressing herself picturesquely. But her picturesqueness all streams\ninto one channel--into hatred for Ingham. When she cuts at him, her pen\nscorches the paper. She has only one sentiment of anything like equal\nstrength--her sympathy with the girl whom Ingham is supposed to have\ndeserted. There, now, is a person whom she thoroughly admires. Was she\nherself once that girl?\"\nHerrick was on his way to dine at Christina's by the time that he\nhazarded this runaway guess, and he told himself that he must pull up a\nlittle, now he was on the public street, or he would be holding people\nwith his glittering eye, like the Ancient Mariner.\nBut one fact continued to strike him. The man whom Joe Patrick had taken\nup to the fourth floor after the arrival of the red-haired woman did not\nappear in the narrative.\nHow if this man himself had written the second letter? The writer had\nsacrificed the only other persons mentioned--Christina and\nNancy--without a scruple, but that curt and silent male it had never\noccurred to him to sacrifice. He was consistently shielded. Having no\nfeasible way of accounting for him, the writer had not even explained\nhim away. He had simply left him out, hoping that, in the definiteness\nof the accusation of a woman, he would be forgotten. For this reason he\nhad gone into details of her flight without even touching the great dark\npoints of the moving of Ingham's body and the bolted door. He was too\nbusy pointing: \"Look, look, there she goes! The murderess! The woman! I\nam calling her Christina Hope. But, in any case, a woman. No man has had\nanything to do with it.\"\nHerrick turned off the avenue into Christina's street. And trying to\nclear his brain lest its feverish contagion should presently reach hers,\nhe told himself, \"You're cracked, my friend. You know nothing whatever.\nSimply cracked.\" But he could not cure himself. Right or wrong, his\nobsession continued. Nonsense or no, there grew steadily within him the\nnotion of that man who had seen all, who knew all, and who had done his\nwork! This figure became strangely potent, and singularly ominous. They\nwere all suffering and struggling here, ridiculously ignorant,\nridiculously in pain, and he could laugh at them. Not a sound had\nescaped him. He had betrayed himself by no melodramatic shadow. \"He was\nso quiet,\" Joe Patrick had said, \"goin' right along about his\nbusiness--\" Yes, he had come upon his business, he had accomplished it,\nhe had vanished, and left no trace behind. Blackmailer, slanderer,\nmurderer, and maybe coward and traitor, there was about him a stillness\nthat had a strange effect. The very blankness of his passage--he looked\nso like \"all gentlemen,\" neither tall nor short, stout nor thin, light\nnor dark, thirty, forty, or some other age--why, Beelzebub himself could\nnot have accomplished a more complete disguise! It was as if, going so\nquietly on such an errand, some evil of devilish mockery looked out from\nbehind that featureless face, as from behind a mask. And about the heart\nof the big, lean, ruddy youth striding toward his beloved through the\nwarm August evening, the cold breath of superstition lightly breathed.\nIt was, for one instant, as though it were at him the mockery were\ndirected; as though, when that mask should be removed, it would be his\nblood that would be frozen by the sight. The next moment his strength\nexulted. Patience! He must be found, that fellow--he had made Christina\nsuffer! The young man's heart winced and then steeled itself upon the\nphrase. He drew deep into his spirit the horrid degradation that had\nbeen breathed upon her; the sickening danger that had struck at her; he\nsaw the thinned line of her cheek, her pallor and her tears, and the\ndark circles under those dear eyes. He saw and his teeth set themselves.\nOh, yes, that featureless and silent fellow should be found! And when\nthat hour came, and Herrick's hand was on that mask, it made him laugh\nto think how well its wearer should learn that it was not only a woman\nat whom he had struck!\nImmersed in these thoughts Herrick had not noticed a scudding automobile\nwhich now passed him so close that he had to spring backward in order to\navoid being knocked down. And he was not in the mood when springing\nbackward could be in the least agreeable to him. The rescuer of ladies\nwas thrown into a fuming rage. What, he, he, a free-born American\ncitizen, he, a knight-errant on his way to the queen of love and beauty,\nhe, Bryce Herrick, a presentable young man of the privileged classes to\nbound into the air like a ball or a mountebank! Made to retreat\nignominiously and hurriedly!--actually to--in the language of his\nchildhood--to \"skip the gutter\" by the menial of upstarts with his\nhorn!--By George, the fellow had not blown his horn!\nHerrick came to a raging pause and looked about him for a policeman. He\ncould at least complain to a policeman! Then he discovered that he was\nwithin half a block of Christina's corner; her house was on the other\nside of the street. To come into her presence was to forget everything\nelse. As he reached the corner and started to cross the road he heard\nthe whirr of another motor and then beheld it speeding toward him, some\ndistance off, from the same direction as his first enemy. Determined not\nto skip the gutter this time he advanced at a dignified pace,\ndeliberately fixing the automobile with the power of the human eye. The\nwild beast approached headlong, nevertheless, and Herrick, observing\nthat it, too, dispensed with the formality of blowing its horn, stopped\ndead in its path. He was filled with the immense public spirit of\noutraged dignity and pure temper. The automobile was a long, low\ntouring-car, gray, with an unfashionable look of hard usage, and there\nwere three roughly dressed men in it. If they thought he would move\nunless that horn were blown, they were mistaken! He glared pointedly at\nthe number which was streaked, illegibly, with mud. And the truth came\nto him, that this was no second automobile--it was the same one! And now\nit was so near that, above the man's raised collar, he could see the\neyes of the chauffeur looking straight at him. Then it was he knew that\nthey did not expect him to get out of the way; that they did not intend\nto blow the horn; nor did they intend to swerve aside. What they\nintended was to run him down! With inconceivable rapidity the thing had\nloomed out of the distance and was here; death lunged at him in a flash,\nbulked right upon him, the wind of it in his angry eyes. The shock of\nthat anger utterly controlled him and took up the challenge; he could\nnot have changed the set of his whole nature and broken his defiance if\nhe would. But from the sidewalk some one screamed. Automatically, he\nstarted, and the touring-car, as though rocked by the scream, swayed a\nhair's breadth to one side. Only a hair's breadth! Herrick felt an\nimpact like the end of things; then a horrible, jarring pain as if his\nbones were coming out through himself and knocking him to splinters. And\nthen--nothing.\nCHAPTER IV\nTHE MYSTERY PAUSES, AND OTHER THINGS GO FORWARD\nThe doctor drew back from examining a badly bruised, cut, and skinned\nyouth and smiled.\n\"Well, young man,\" said he, \"if I were you, the next time I saw an\nautomobile making right for me, I'd get out of its way.\"\n\"I guess I'm all right,\" Herrick grinned. The grin was rather sketchy.\nHe was not very secure yet in which world he was.\nOn first recovering consciousness he had found himself lying with his\nhead in Christina's lap, and had supposed he was in heaven. But it\nhadn't been heaven; it had still been the middle of Ninety-third Street\nand Christina was sitting in the dust thereof. And then he had another\nglimmer; he was on a couch, and, facing him, Christina was huddled on\nher heels on the floor with large tears running down her nose and\nplumping off the end of it into a bowl, full of funny red water, that\nshe held; a cloth in her hand was even redder, and her mouth had such a\npiteous droop that if only he could have sat up it would have been the\nnatural thing to kiss it. \"Darling!\" he had said, to comfort her; and\nshe had said, eagerly, \"Yes!\" just as if that were her name; then\nanother blackness. And now the couch was in her drawing-room and\neverywhere was the scent and the sheen of her country flowers--larkspur\nand sweet alyssum and mignonette, the white of wild cucumber vine, the\nlavender of horsemint, and everywhere the breath of clover--the house\nwas filled with them! Wherever did she get them?\n\"What's that?\" he asked sharply. It was a policeman's helmet.\nThe policeman was merely left there,--the automobile having escaped\nwithout leaving its number behind it,--to take his evidence of the\naccident. Herrick rather dreaded being laughed at for his surety that it\nwas no accident; but a man who had seen it from a window and the passing\nlady who had saved his life by shrieking had already testified to the\nsame effect. They had both declared the offending car to be a gray\ntouring-car; a very dark gray, Herrick thought. The policeman, who had\nread his Sunday special, stooped to be communicative. \"Do you remember\nthe young feller,\" he asked, \"that was a witness to the Ingham inquest?\nDo you remember he got there late through bein' knocked over by 'n\nautomobile?\"\nHerrick stared.\n\"Well, the young lady called him on the 'phone with me listenin', an' I\nguess you're on a'ready to what kind of a car it was that hit him--'twas\na gray tourin'-car.\"\nBy-and-by, when the policeman and the doctor were gone, and Mrs. Hope\nand Mrs. Deutch, without whom no crisis in the life of the Hope family\nseemed to be complete, had swathed him tastefully in one of Mrs. Hope's\nkimonos they began to tell him that he must send for his things, because\nhe would have to convalesce as Christina's guest. The idea was\ndistressing to him, but he was a little surprised by the soft bitterness\nwith which Christina opposed it. \"Do you want him murdered outright?\"\nshe said. \"What has he done that he should be mixed up with my house and\nmy life? I was wrong ever to let him be my friend.\" She was spreading a\ncloth over a little table which Stanley Ingham had brought close to the\ncouch. She lifted a lighted lamp out of Herrick's eyes and set it on the\nmantel shelf behind his head. Looking down as the light touched his\nbandaged forehead and the unusual pallor of his bronzed face she said,\nso gently that Herrick's heart melted with a painful sweetness, \"I\nwarned you!\"\n\"It does look awfully funny,\" young Ingham exclaimed, \"about this\ntouring-car. Wonder what the police will say to that! Wouldn't open\ntheir mouths about the letters, and warned me not to open mine. Wouldn't\neven let me tell you, Chris!\"\n\"Fortunately,\" said Christina, \"Mr. Herrick had told me before any one\ncould possibly interfere.--The police think they're genuine, then?\"\n\"You bet they do! At least, I s'pose they do. They didn't say. But they\ngrabbed them, fast enough.\"\nChristina asked no more, and thereafter, if she kept the talk around\nHerrick quiet, she kept it almost gay. She and the boy ate their dinner\nwith him in order to wait on him and watch his comfort; and before long\nshe seemed scarcely the older of the two. It was all wonderfully simple\nand kind; there could be no embarrassment in that light, genial\natmosphere; when the dishes had been cleared away the girl went to the\npiano and sang softly--tender negro melodies, little folk lullabies,\nsnatches of German love-songs. Just as Herrick, greatly soothed and at\npeace, was beginning to feel tired, Deutch arrived and he and Stanley\nIngham took the patient home in a taxi and put him to bed.\nTo Herrick's indignant astonishment, it was four or five days before he\ncould get about again, and at the end of that period the Deutches had\nbecome almost as large a part of his life as of the Hopes. It was in\nvain he protested. Mrs. Deutch came twice a day and looked after his\ncomfort with a devotion as arbitrary as a mother's; she inspected all\nhis garments, and, with clucks of consternation, took them away with her\nand returned them, perfected; between her and Mrs. Grubey a deep\ndistrust as to each other's cookery arose. She cooked him three meals a\nday, beside all sorts of elaborate \"foreign\" trifles, Mr. Deutch\nbringing them over in a basket, piping hot; and Mrs. Grubey, entering\nwith her own dainty contribution of pork chops and canned lobster,\nprofessed herself unable to understand how he could eat such messes. He\nfinished his memorial of Ingham amid the perpetual bloom and fragrance\nof Christina's garden flowers; once Mr. Ingham came, with Stanley, to\ninquire; Mrs. Hope came twice. On her second visit, when he was almost\nready to re-enter the world, she brought Christina with her.\nThe girl had lost her air of tragic greatness; there was more color in\nher face, the pupils of her eyes were less expanded and her nostrils\nless inflated. She seemed, too, to have been rather put back into her\nplace as a young lady, for she smiled sweetly but a little shyly about\nHerrick's room, and left the talking to her mother; when her eyes\nencountered the photograph which had been replaced over the desk a faint\nflush suffused her face.\n\"My daughter has at last allowed herself to be persuaded,\" said Mrs.\nHope, \"that Miss Cornish is hiding voluntarily; and that, if there is a\nblackmailing society trying to slander us and to injure any one who is\napt to defend us, the police are quite as capable of dealing with it as\nshe is. Therefore she is now able to give a little attention to her own\naffairs.\"\nHerrick was sorry for the poor lady; he knew that she was devoted to\nChristina and that she must have had a great deal to endure. He had\nlearned by this time that she had been a Miss Fairfax, and that her\nfamily, however desperately poor, considered her to have made a\nmisalliance with a mere wealthy manufacturer of wall-papers, like Hope.\nIt had been, indeed, a runaway match and relations with her family were\nnever really resumed. Now Deutch reported that of late conciliatory\nrelatives, making advances to the rising star, had been routed with\ngreat slaughter. But both men guessed that this had not been the real\nwish of a person so socially inclined as Mrs. Hope; she was too plainly\ndragged at the chariot-wheels of a freer spirit, and in this light even\nher occasional asperities, her method of communicating with her daughter\nmainly by protesting exclamations, became only pathetic attempts at an\nauthority she did not possess. \"You know, Mr. Herrick,\" she now went on,\n\"that the opening of 'The Victors' three weeks from next Thursday night\nis the great occasion of my daughter's life. I can't begin to tell you\nwhat it means to us; it's everything. At such a time I think we--we\nought to have our friends about us. The Inghams are so kind; they are\ntaking me in their box. But Christina had already ordered me two of the\nbest seats in the house, and I'm sure I'm speaking for her, too, when I\nsay what a pleasure it would be if you would accept them. Indeed it\nwould be a favor.--My dear, can't you persuade him?\"\n\"It's only--\" said Christina, slowly, \"that I'm afraid.\"\n\"Christina! I do wish you would drop that ridiculous pose. No horrible\nfate has overtaken me!\"\n\"Ah, mother,\" said the girl, touching her mother's shoulder, \"perhaps\nbecause we were both born, you and I, under the same ban!\"\n\"My dear!\" cried Mrs. Hope, as if Christina had mentioned something\nindecent. \"I hope you won't pay any attention to her, Mr. Herrick.\"\n\"I certainly shan't. I shall be too glad to get those seats.\"\n\"Ah, now you're a dear! You'll see Christina at her best, and I'm going\nto say that that's something to see. It's a magnificent part and Mr.\nWheeler has been so wonderful in rehearsing her in it. Christina doesn't\nfind him at all intimidating or brutal, as people say. Though, of\ncourse, he's a very profane man.\"\n\"I love every bone in his body,\" Christina said.\n\"My child! I wish you wouldn't speak so immoderately!\"\n\"I'm an immoderate person,\" the girl replied. She rose, and pointing out\nof the window she said to Herrick--\"You sat here? It was there, on that\nshade?\"\n\"Yes.\"\nChristina shuddered; just then Mr. Deutch arrived with the luncheon\nbasket. The ladies passed him in taking their leave and Christina\nslipped her hand through his arm. \"Mr. Herrick,\" she said, \"Herr Hermy\ndoes not look wise--no, Herr Hermy, you don't,--but if ever I puzzle\nyou, ask him. Do not ask Tante Deutch, she will tell you something noble\nand solid, for she herself is wise, and so she can never understand me.\nBut Herr Hermy is a little foolish, just as I am. He is flighty; he has\nthe artistic temperament and understands us; he knows me to the\ncore.--Herr Hermy, he is coming to see me act; tell him I am really Sal,\nnot Evadne; tell him that I am a hardworking girl.\"\nAs he came to know her better, Herrick did not need to be told that. He\nhad never seen any one work so hard nor take their work quite so\nseriously. But her advice remained with him and he began to listen more\nrespectfully to Hermann Deutch on his favorite subject. \"Wait till you\nsee her, Mr. Herrick! She's like Patti, and the others were the chorus;\nyou'll say so, too. And it don't seem but yesterday, hardly, she didn't\nknow how she should go to faint, even! Drop herself, she would, about\nthe house, and black and blue herself in bumps! We used to go in the\nfamily circle, when I had a half-a-dollar or two, and watch great\nactresses and when one did something she had a fancy for, she'd pinch me\nlike a pair o' scissors! And she'd be up practising it all night, over\nand over, and the gas going! She'd wear herself out, and there's those\nthat would expect she shouldn't wear them out, too!\"\n\"She takes things too hard,\" said the lover fondly.\n\"Yes,\" said Mr. Deutch, after a pause, \"she takes 'em hard, but she can\ndrop 'em quick!\" Herrick felt a little knife go through his heart; and\nthen Deutch added, \"Not that she's the way people talk--insincere. Oh,\nthat's foolish talk! She's only quick-like; she sees all things and she\nfeels all things, and not one of 'em will she keep quiet about! Those\nglass pieces, you know, hang from chandeliers?--when they flash first in\nthe one light and then the way another strikes 'em, they ain't\ninsincere. An' that's the way Miss Christina is--she's young, an' she's\ngot curiosity, an' she wants she should know all things an' feel all\nthings, so she can put 'em in her parts; she wants all the lights to go\nclean through her. And there's so many of 'em! So many to take in and so\nmany to give out! There ain't one of 'em, Mr. Herrick, but what she'll\nreflect it right into your face.\"\nAlthough, in this elaborate fancy, Herrick suspected an echo of\nChristina's own eloquence, he did not listen to it less eagerly on that\naccount. \"After all,\" he translated, \"it's only that she's willingly and\nextraordinarily impressionable, and then willingly and extraordinarily\nexpressive! In that case, instead of being less sincere than other\npeople, she's more so!\"\n\"You got it!\" cried Mr. Deutch with satisfaction. \"That's what these\noutsiders, they can't ever understand. The best friend she ever had says\nto me once, 'If ever Miss Hope gets enough really good parts to keep her\ninterested, she'll take things more quietly around the house!' That's\nbeen a great comfort to me, Mr. Herrick.--She's got these emotions in\nher, I'll say to myself, and what harm is it she should let 'em off?\"\n\"The best friend she ever had?\"\n\"Well, now, Mr. Herrick, he was an old hand when she first came into the\nbusiness. He taught her a lot; she'd be the first to say so. Often I've\nthought if she hadn't been so young then, what a match they might ha'\nmade of it! But she never thought of it, nor, I shouldn't wonder, he\nneither, and now it's too late. But don't you worry because she takes\nall things hard; she's got a kind of a spring in her. When she's laid\ndown to die of one thing, comes along another and she gets up again.\"\nIf Herrick did not complete this analysis, it was not for lack of\nopportunity. As soon as he was about again he found himself as merged in\nthe life of the Hopes as were the Deutches themselves. \"You interest\nChristina,\" Mrs. Hope told him. \"You take her mind off these dreadful\nthings. It's a very critical week with us. I hope you won't leave her\nalone.\"\nHerrick did all that in him lay to justify this hope, and if Christina\nnever urged nor invited, never made herself \"responsible\" for his\npresence, she accepted it unquestioningly. His first outing was a Sunday\ndinner at their house, and again Christina kept herself in the\nbackground, and only drew her mother's affectionate wrath upon herself\nby one remark; saying, as Herrick helped himself from the dish the maid\nwas passing him, \"I hope it's not poisoned!\"\nShe seemed rather tired, and he hoped this was not because she had made\nhim come at an outrageously early hour and read her the beginning of his\nnovel. He knew she was recasting it into scenes as he read; she got him\nto tell her all that he meant to do with it and, as they all, save Mrs.\nHope, lighted their cigarettes over the coffee in the sitting-room, she\nbegan telling Wheeler about it.--Wheeler had dined there, too.\nChristina's star was a big, stalwart man of about fifty, who had not\nquite ceased to be a matin\u00e9e idol in becoming one of the foremost of\nproducers. He listened with a good deal of interest and indeed the story\nlost nothing on Christina's tongue; Herrick began to see that her mind\nwas a highly sensitized plate which could catch reflections even of\ndisembodied things. Then Wheeler exclaimed what an actor's approval has\nto say first, whatever he may bring himself to deal with afterward.\n\"Why, but there's a play in that!\"\n\"Yes,\" said Christina, promptly. \"For me!\"\nHumor shone out of the good sense and good feeling of Wheeler's heavy,\nhandsome face. \"Give me more coffee, my cormorant! Do you think I want\nto play the young lady myself? Nay, 'I know the hour when it\nstrikes!'--heavy fathers for mine! Stouter than I used to be--Tut-tut,\nno sugar!--There will be too much of me--Did you get your idea of moral\nresponsibility out of New England, Mr. Herrick?\"\n\"Well, this form of it I got from such a different source as a very\nsuave, amiable Italian, Emile Gabrielli, an intending author, too,--a\nlawyer who had exiled himself to Switzerland. Do you know a line of\nHowell's?--'The wages of sin is more sinning.' And it's seemed to me\nthat the more-sinning doesn't stop with ourselves; it draws the most\ninnocent and indifferent people into our net. Well, I always wanted to\nfind a vehicle for that notion.\"\n\"And your Italian told you this story?\"\n\"Something like it. Set the tone for it, too, in a way. He was a highly\nrespectable sentimental person, and used to carry about an old miniature\nof a lovely girl to whom, I believe, he had once been betrothed. The\nbans had been forbid by cruel parents but he used to brag to me, at\nfifty, that they could never force him to part from her idolized face!\nYet he knew so many shady stories I've often wondered if he hadn't left\nhome in order to avoid a circle of too embarrassing clients. At any rate\nhe had known a woman whose husband had got into trouble with the police\nin Italy--for swindling, I think he said. She had to clear out and\ndisappeared. Years afterward he found that she had run into the arms of\na respectable, God-fearing family; the natural prey of cheats because\nyears before their little daughter had been kidnapped or lost and never\nfound. They cry out at this young woman's resemblance to the child; the\nyoung woman puts two and two together into a story which deceives those\nwho wish to be deceived, and settles down to be taken care of for the\nrest of her life. It must have been any port in a storm, for I didn't\ngather her adopted family had money. Spent all they had in looking for\nher when she was a baby, as I understood. To Signor Gabrielli the cream\nof the jest was that this girl was being petted and cherished and\nlabored for by industrious people who would have perished of horror if\nthey had known who she was, and who had not one drop of their blood in\nher veins.--I may not have got the incidents at all straight, but that's\nthe idea.\"\n\"But you've changed the relationship--?\"\n\"Oh, yes. I've cut down the family to a daughter and, as you see, I've\nreversed the parts--in my story it is the daughter who is deceived; it\nis the supposed mother who settles down upon the devoted innocence and\nlabor of a generous girl.\"\n\"Oh, of course!\" exclaimed Mrs. Hope. \"Put it all on the mother!\nNowadays, everything's sure to be her fault!\"\nChristina gave her mother her hand, much as she might have given her a\ncup of tea and said, \"Well, but that is only where your novel begins?\"\n\"Yes. I thought the interesting part was all to come. I thought I should\nbe justified in supposing my reformed lady to go back to her old habits,\nperhaps through the mere claim of genuine ties,--old friendships, real\nrelationships--to be caught in some serious crime, involve those friends\nand, finally, without in the least intending it, draw her daughter and\nher daughter's lover into her quicksand--of course, by means of their\nefforts to pull her out! And then to see what happened!\"\n\"When the daughter finds out,\" Wheeler cogitated, \"that should be a\nstrong scene, a very strong scene.--What made you think of reversing the\ncharacters?--less trite?\"\n\"Simply, I could handle it this way and not the other. When I had the\ncheat a young woman, she was very strenuous--I couldn't keep her from\nbeing the most lurid of common adventuresses. And I had a theory that\npeople are never like that to themselves. Well, as soon as I substituted\na rather pass\u00e9e woman she became much quieter--just a feeble, worthless,\nselfish person a good deal battered by life, and wanting nothing but\ncomfort--trying to get it in the easiest way. I wanted so much to give\nthe commonplace quality of crime, of what a simple, sensible, ordinary\npiece of business it seems to the person engaged in it--at any rate\nuntil it's found out, and he begins to be reacted on by fear and other\npeople's minds. Ah, if I can only give these people their own point of\nview, and make one thing after another seem quite ordinary and human,\njust the necessary thing to do! Until they begin to lose their heads\nwhen one gate and then another closes and, finding themselves cornered,\nthey fight like rats in a trap! The good as well as the bad, in one\npanic degradation of despair! I heard a figure of crime the other day\nwhich I should like to carry out. I should like to start with the\nsmallest blemish on the outside of the clean, rosy apple of respectable\nsociety, 'the little, pitted speck in garnered fruit, which, rotting\ninward' lets you, by following it, down and down, from one layer of\nhuman living to another, at last hold a whole sphere of crime,\ncollapsed, crumbling and wide open, in your hand. Then I've got to save\nEvadne in the end, without the effect of dragging her through a\ntrap-door!\"\n\"Well, if you made it into a play,\" Wheeler persisted, \"would the mother\nor the daughter be the star-part?\"\n\"I could play both!\" Christina cried.\nWheeler laughed aloud. \"You are too good to be true!\"\n\"Well, but why not? Why not a dual r\u00f4le? Even if the relationship were\nfalse, the resemblance would have to be real--it's the backbone of the\nstory! Mother and I look a good deal alike, but I've seen chance\nresemblances incomparably stronger!\"\nShe went on eagerly and Herrick was surprised to see that it was not she\nalone but Wheeler who took the idea of dramatization seriously. It was\nhis first real gage of what was expected of Christina as an\nactress--that in a year or two she would be starring on her own account.\nShe was not only Wheeler's leading-woman, she was his find, his\nspeculation; he meant to be her manager and Christina meant that he\nshould, too. Again Ingham's death seemed to be dragging Herrick into the\npath of success.\nThen his attention was caught by Wheeler's saying, \"Well, we must all be\nas criminal as we can, while we can. Once P. L. B. C. Ten Euyck gets to\nbe a police inspector there will be no more crime. The word will be\nblotted from the vocabulary of New York.\"\n\"That man!\" Mrs. Hope cried.\n\"Well, all these recent scandals in the Department are making them\nremove Simmonds; they want somebody beyond the reach of graft; and Ten\nEuyck has resigned his coronership. What does that look like to you?\n\"It will be nuts to watch,\" Wheeler went on. \"The force, down in his\ndistrict, will be shaken up till its teeth rattle. Ten Euyck won't rest\ncontented till he has stopped mice from stealing scraps of cheese! But\nmy leading-woman must be civil to him, now, or he's the sort of fellow\nto get my license revoked. Nobody's ever run up against his\nself-righteousness and got away with it, yet. Poor chap, he'd be mighty\nable if he weren't crazy! I believe I could do a Valjean if I could\nengage him as Javert!\"\n\"Don't let us speak forever of that bilious person! Why do you distract\na poor girl from her work? Come,\" cried she to Wheeler, \"are we going to\ndo our scene?\"\nShe drove her rather reluctant star to action.--\"Young miss!\" he said,\n\"it is not every ageing favorite who would take a girl on the word of a\nmutual friend, give her a better part than his own, push her over his\nown head, and coach her in private into the bargain!\" He put his big\nhand on Christina's shoulder. \"But she's worth it!\" he said. \"A scene\nwith her is a tonic to me--I did not know the old man had so much blood\nin him! Sally, the poor working-girl, what are you going to do to the\ncritics, that still sleep unconscious? 'Ha--ha! Wait till Monday week!'\nor whenever we open!\n    \"'They'll be all gangin' East an' West,\n    They'll be all gane a-glee!\n    They'll be all gangin' East an' West,\n    Courtin' Molly Lee!'\n\"Mr. Herrick, as you come up Broadway, you don't see her name on the\nbills! But they might as well be printing the paper!--for the younger\ngeneration is knocking at the door. Ah, Christina, my dear, thou art thy\nWheeler's glass, and he in thee calls back the lovely April of his\nprime!\" His indulgent sardonic glance caught Christina's and the flaming\nsword of hers drove him to work. They left behind them such a vivid\nsense of Herrick's having written his play and their having taken it,\nthat he might have thought it a scene of his they were working on.\nFrom the room where they were immured strange sounds occasionally\nescaped; sometimes Wheeler laughed and sometimes he swore furiously.\n\"She'll get everything that he knows out of him!\" said Mrs. Hope with\ngreat satisfaction.\nHerrick discovered this, in no ignoble sense, to be the keynote of\nChristina's life. It was borne in upon him with every hour that her\nwork in the theater was the essence of her; that no matter where nor how\nutterly she should consciously give her heart the unconscious course of\nher nature would still flow through the field of dramatic endeavor. He\nmight admire or condemn this, like it or leave it; but the jealous\nhumility of his love must recognize it.\nShe seemed largely to have recovered from the terrors that had enveloped\nher upon Ingham's death. If for Nancy Cornish she had lain down to die,\nfor her opening night she had got up again. And she was ready to bend\nthe whole world to that night's service. Herrick saw that she had always\nbeen so.\nIt became a thrilling amusement to him to watch her at work; to see how\nvividly she perceived, how unscrupulously she absorbed! In the\nvocabulary of her profession, everything was so much \"experience.\" All\nher life long she had sucked out of every creature that came near her\nsome sort of artistic sustenance; learning from the jests of her own\nheart and its despair; out of the shop windows and the night sky. At an\nage when other girls were being chaperoned to dancing-parties she had\nworked,--she with her soft cheek and slight strength and shy eye,--\"like\na miner buried in a landslide\"; she was mistress of her body's every\ncurve, of her voice's every note; she had read widely and with\npassionate intelligence; as soon as she had begun to make money, she had\npoured it into her accomplishments; she was a diligent student of\npassing manners and historic modes, and of each human specimen through\nwhich she did not hesitate to run her pin.\nFor instance, what use had she not made of the Deutches? From Henrietta\nDeutch she had learned German and a not inconsiderable amount of music;\nthey had a venerated library of standard works that contained a few\nmodern continentals in the original; she developed her school-girl\nFrench by reading the Parisians under Mrs. Deutch's supervision and in\nItalian she surpassed her; while all the time she learned just enough\nknitting to know how people feel when they knit, and just what the\nsensation is of stirring sugar into the preserves. She liked to go to\ntheir apartment of an evening and, once, when Mrs. Hope sent Herrick\nafter her, he found her sitting on the floor with her hair down and her\nhead against Mrs. Deutch's black silk knee while that lady crooned\nGerman lullabies to the baby she had never borne, and \"Herr Hermy\"\nplayed the pianola. As soon as she had twisted up her hair, she put on a\nlong apron and got supper and waited on them all with the charming\ndaughterly ways which lent her such a tender girlishness; and Herrick\nperceived that when a part required her to move about a kitchen she\nwould be able to welcome the kitchen as an old friend. She could\nreproduce Deutch's accent, his whole personal equation, with inhuman\nexactness, even his tremors at the inquest, his inarticulate stammer--as\nof a mental dumbness, groping for words--that overtook him in moments of\nextreme excitement, she had caught in her net; she had learned from him\nsome jokes and stories, some student songs, which would have astonished\nthe many delicate tea-tables at which she shyly cast down her thieving\neyes to observe exactly what service was in vogue; she did not hesitate\nto stir him up to dreadful stories of old racial hates and though\nHerrick saw her eyes darken and her nostrils expand he knew that she was\ndrawing thoroughly into her system the dark passion of retaliation with\nwhich she would some day scorch an astonished audience. \"If ever I get a\nqueen to do--oh, one of the virtuous queens, of course,\" she said, \"I\nshall have to fall back on Tante Deutch.\" And Herrick saw how right she\nwas; how all along she had modeled her grand moments--and Christina,\nthough so fond of describing herself as a poor working girl, had\noccasional moments of extreme grandeur--upon that simple, domestic\nstateliness which was really the stateliness of a great lady.\nOn the other hand when she was out with her mother she modeled\nherself--except for a stray vagary of speech--upon Mrs. Hope's excellent\nidea of a-young-lady-out-with-her-mother-a-la-mode; and she was by no\nmeans insensible to the glories of the smart world, nor to the luxuries\nof the moneyed world. \"I want them all,\" she confessed to Herrick as\nthey walked up Fifth Avenue from rehearsal. \"I covet them; I long to own\nthem, and I dare swear I should never be owned by them. I'm infinitely\nmore fit than those that have them, and thank heaven I've stood out here\nwhen I was cold and wet and _oh!_ how hopeless, and felt in me the\nanarchist and his bomb. I was never made to smile on conquerors. One\nman, from these great houses, once taught me how to hate them! How I\nshould like to do a Judith! How I should like to _tame_ all this!\" She\nlooked, with a bitterer gaze than he had ever seen in her, down the\nincomparable pomp of the great street. Then more lightly, with a curving\nlip, \"My Deutches, I believe,\" she said, \"are supposed to belong to the\nmoneyed camp. But it is borne in upon me, every now and then, that our\nown race has occasionally put by a dollar or two.\"\nShe moved in such an atmosphere of luxury that it was difficult to\nimagine her what she plainly called \"hard up.\" But it will be seen that\nthey were now continually together and there was something about her\nwhich made it possible to offer her the simplest and the cheapest\npleasures. In her rare hours of freedom he had the fabulous happiness of\ntaking her where he had often taken Evadne in that old empty time; to\nConey Island, to strange Bowery haunts, to the wharves where the boys\ndive, and even to his table d'h\u00f4te in the back yard. She had a zest, a\nfresh-hearted pleasure in everything and her sense of characterization\nfed upon queer colors and odd flavors just as he had known it would. He\nwas so sorry that the little Yankee woman was absent from his table\nd'h\u00f4te, particularly as he had recently had a specimen of her which he\nlonged to hear Christina reproduce. She had a little sewing-table behind\nher desk at which she sat playing solitaire with a grim precision which\nmade Herrick think of the French Revolution and the knitting women; but\nas she had then been absent from the restaurant for some time he\nventured a \"Buon giorno\" as he passed.\nShe instantly replied, \"You needn't talk that Dago talk to me. I just\ntook my daughter's paul-parrot away from here, case 't 'ed get so it\ncouldn't talk real talk.\"\n\"That's what I call a good firm prejudice!\" Herrick laughed to himself,\nand he continued to hope for some such specimen, or at least for Mr.\nGumama, when he should bring Christina again.\nBut as the opening drew near, she began to limit her interests and to\nexclude from her vision everything which could interfere with the part\nin hand. It sometimes seemed to him, indeed, as if even her new calm\nabout Nancy were only because Nancy--yes, and the threatening Arm of\nJustice,--were among these conscious, these voluntary exclusions. It was\nalmost as though, over the very body of Ingham's death, she had thrown\nher part's rosy skirts and shut it out of sight. Beneath her innumerable\nmoods one seemed permanent, strangely compounded of languor and\nexcitement. By-and-by, she seemed to dwell within it, veiled, and\nHerrick knew that only her part was there behind the veil with her.\nIt was Mrs. Hope who could least endure this sleepwalking abstraction.\nThere came an evening when some people whom Mrs. Hope considered of\nimportance were asked to dinner. Christina improved this occasion by\nhaving her own dinner served upstairs, so that she would not be too\ntired to rehearse that night with Wheeler. And to Herrick Mrs. Hope\nreported this behavior, biting her lips. \"She's the most self-willed\nperson living! I declare to you, Mr. Herrick, she has the cruelest\ntricks in the world. The best friend that any girl ever had said once\nthat, if acting were in question, she would grind his bones to make its\nbread!\"\nLater, Herrick said jealously to the girl, \"Who _was_ the best friend\nyou ever had?\"\nHer head happened to be turned from him and it seemed to him a long time\nbefore she spoke. Even then her indifference was so great she almost\nyawned as \"Who has told you of him?\" she asked.\n\"Both Deutch and your mother called some old actor that.\"\n\"They meant a dear fellow who put me in the moving-picture business,\nbless him, when I hadn't enough to eat!\"\n\"And where's he now?\"\n\"I dare say he's very well off. He taught me poise. He taught me\nindependence, too. That's enough for one man. He had a singular way of\nturning his eyes, without turning his head. I learned that, too.\"\nWas it true, then--what had been hinted to him often enough--that once\nshe had plucked out the heart of your mystery, the heart of the human\nbeing she forgot all about? She might be of as various moods as she\nwould, she was very single-minded, and was all she valued in her friends\nsome personal mannerism?--any peculiar impression of which she might\nmaster the physical mechanism and reproduce it? A trait like this\nnaturally made Herrick take anxious stock of his own position. What\npersonal peculiarity of his was she studying? But it was nevertheless in\nsuch a trait that the staunchness of his love found its true food. He\nfound his faith digested such things capitally; his passion at once\nnourished and clarified itself by every human failing, by all the little\nnerves and little ways of his darling divinity, until it ceased to be\nmerely the bleeding heart of a valentine and found within itself the\nsolid, articulated bones of mortal life. If, in return, there was the\nleast thing she could learn of him, let her, in heaven's name, learn it!\nOnly, how long before she would have finished with it?\nIn the blessed meantime she scarcely stirred without him. With a freedom\nunthinkable in girls of his own world, she let him take her to lunch\nevery day; unlike a proper heroine of romance, Christina required at\nthis time a great deal of food and he waited for her after rehearsal and\ntook her to tea. It was a mercy that he was now doing a series of Famous\nCrimes in Manhattan, for the Record, as he certainly did not wish to put\nher on a diet of Italian table d'h\u00f4tes! She accepted all this quite as a\nmatter of course; and it had become a matter of course that he should go\nhome with her for dinner. Sometimes they walked up through the Park,\nsometimes they took a taxi and drove to shops or dressmakers; she did\nnot scruple, when she was tired or wanted air, to drive home with her\nhat off and her eyes shut. It seemed to the poor fellow that she had\naccepted him like the weather.\nFor she had become strangely quiet in his presence. Eventually she\nceased to use upon him any conscious witchery whatever; something had\nspiked all her guns, and Herrick was too much in love to presume that\nthis quiet meant anything except that he did not irritate her. Every now\nand again, it is true, he was breathlessly aware of something that\nbrooded, touchingly humble and anxious and tender, in a tone, in a\nglance. He feared that this anxiety, this tenderness, was only that\nroyal kindness with which, for instance, when Joe Patrick gave up his\nelevator, hating that haunted job, she at once got him taken on as usher\nat the theater. But Herrick dared not translate her expression, when,\nlooking up suddenly, he would find her eyes swimming in a kind of happy\nlight and fastened on his face. At such moments a flush would run\nthrough him; there would fall between them a painful, an exquisite\nconsciousness. And, with the passing of the wave, she would seem to him\nextraordinarily young.\nHe considered it a bad sign that seldom or never did she introduce him\nto any of her mates. Public as was their companionship, she kept him\nwholly to herself. This was particularly noticeable in the restaurants\nwhere she would go to strange shifts to keep actors from dallying at her\ntable; she would forestall their advances by paying visits to theirs,\nleaving Herrick to make what he liked of it; and, do what he would, the\npoor fellow could find no flattering reason for this. Already he knew\nChristina too well to have any hope that it was the actors who were not\ngood enough.\nThey were to her, in the most drastic and least sentimental sense, her\nfamily. She quarreled with them; often enough she abused and mimicked\nthem; at the memory of bad acting scorn and disdain rode sparkling in\nher eye, and if her vast friendliness was lighted by passionate\nenthusiasms, it was capable, too, of the very sickness of contempt. But\nthis was in private and among themselves; there was not the least nor\nthe worst of them whom she would not have championed against the world.\nQuite apart from goodness or badness of art, Christina conceived of but\ntwo classes of human beings, artists and not artists; as who should say\n\"Brethren\"; \"Cattle.\" Herrick congratulated himself that he could be\nscooped in under at least the title of \"Writer.\" It was not so good as\n\"Actor,\" but 't was enough, 't would serve. All her sense of kin, of\nrace, of patriotism, and--once you came to good acting--of religion, was\ncentered in her country of the stage. Herrick had never seen any one so\nclass conscious. With those whom she called \"outsiders,\" she adopted the\ncourse most calculated, as a matter of fact, to make her the rage; she\nrefused to know them. And when, for the sake of some day reproducing\nhigh life upon the boards, she brought herself to dine out, this little\nprot\u00e9g\u00e9e of the Deutches had always said to herself, with Arnold\nBennett's hero, \"World, I condescend.\"\nSuch an affair took place on the Monday before Christina's opening. Some\nfriends of the Inghams made a reception for her; and Herrick saw a dress\narrive that was plainly meant for conquest. Now Herrick considered that\nthis reception had played him a mean trick. He had a right to! He who\nhad recently been a desperado with sixpence was soon to be an associate\neditor of _Ingham's Weekly_!--While he was still dizzy with this\nknowledge a friend on the _Record_ had pointed out a suite in an old\nfashioned downtown mansion, which had been turned into bachelor\nlodgings: a friend of the friend wished to sub-let these rooms\nfurnished, and Herrick had extravagantly taken them. A beautiful\nColonial fireplace had decided him. He remembered a mahogany tea-table\nand some silver which Marion could be induced to part with, and it\nseemed to him that he could not too quickly bring about the hour when\nChristina, before that fireplace and at that tea-table, should pour tea\nfor whatever Thespians she might think him worthy to entertain. But it\nhad taken time for the things to arrive; to-morrow she was going on the\nroad for the preliminary performances, and to-day was set for the\nreception! He had, of course, kept silence. But it was heartbreaking to\nsee how perfect a day it was for tea and fires--one of those cool days\nof earliest September. He kindled the flame; alas, it didn't matter!\nThen, toward six he went uptown to hear about the party.\nHe found Mrs. Hope, but not Christina, and the elder lady received him\nalmost with tears. \"She is out driving, Mr. Herrick; she is out driving\nabout all by herself and she won't come home. She is in one of her\ntantrums and all about Mr. Wheeler--a fine actor, of course, but why\nbother?\"\nHerrick had never seen the poor lady so ruffled. \"It was such a\nbeautiful reception,\" she told him, \"all the best people. She got there\nlate. She always does. You can't tell me, Mr. Herrick, that she doesn't\ndo it on purpose to make an entrance. All the time I was brushing her up\nafter the rehearsal she stood with her eyes shut, mumbling one line over\nand over from her part. Nobody could be more devoted to her success than\nI am, but it got on my nerves so I stuck her with a hairpin and I\nthought she would have torn her hair down. 'What are these people to\nme?' she said. 'Or I to them.' You know how she goes on, Mr. Herrick, as\nif she were actually disreputable, instead of being really the best of\ngirls. Then, again, she's so exclusive it seems sometimes as if she\nreally couldn't associate with anybody, except the Deutches! She likes\nwell enough to fascinate people, all the same. She behaved beautifully\nafter she got there; and oh, Mr. Herrick, you can't imagine how\nbeautiful she looked! Surely, there never was anything so lovely as my\ndaughter!\"\n\"Can't I?\" Herrick exclaimed.\n\"Well, every one just lay down flat in front of her. Even Mr. Ten Euyck.\nYes, he was there. I trembled when they should meet. You know, he has\nhis inspectorship now. He wants to give her a lunch on board his yacht!\nIt was a triumph. Christina was very demure. But by-and-by I began to\nfeel a trifle uneasy. You know that soft, sad look she's got?--it's so\nangelic it just _melts_ you--when she's really thinking how dull people\nare! Well, there, I saw it beginning to come! And about then they had\ngot rid of all but the very smartest people, just the cream, you know,\nfor a little intimacy! We were all getting quite cozy, when some one\nasked Christina how she could bear to play love-scenes with a man like\nWheeler--of course, Mr. Herrick, it _is_ annoying, but they will ask\nthings like that; they can't help it.\"\n\"And Miss Hope?\"\n\"She looked up at them with the sugariest expression I ever saw and\nasked them why, and they all began reminding her of the--well, you know!\nAnd I must say, when you come to think of his--ah--affairs--! And they\ntalked about how dear Miss So-and-So had refused to act with him in\namateur theatricals, he said such rough things! And how lovely Christina\nwas, and how hard it was on her, and all the time I could see Christina\nclouding up.\"\nHerrick, with his eyes on the rug, smilingly murmured, \"Wave, Munich,\nall thy banners wave! And charge, with all thy chivalry!\"\n\"Well, Mr. Herrick, she stood up and looked all round her with that\nawful stormy lower she has, and then, in a voice like one of those\npursuing things in the Greek tragedies, 'I!' she said, 'I am not worthy\nto kiss his feet!' Oh, Mr. Herrick, why should she mention them? There\nare times when she certainly is not delicate!\"\nHerrick burst out laughing. He thought Christina might at least have\nexhibited some sense of humor. \"And was the slaughter terrible?\"\n\"Why, Mr. Herrick, what could any one say? She looked as if she might\nhave hit them. She shook the crumbs off her skirt, as if they were the\nparty, and then she said good-by very sweetly, but coldly and sadly,\nlike Mary Queen of Scots going to execution, and left. Mr. Herrick, I\ndon't know where to hide my head!\"\nHerrick stayed for some time to counsel and console, but Christina did\nnot return and as Mrs. Hope did not ask him to dinner he was at length\nobliged to go. For all his amusement he felt a little snubbed and blue\nand lonely; his eyes hungered for Christina in her finery; he saw her at\nonce as the darling and the executioner of society and he longed to\nreassure himself with the favor of the spoiled beauty; how was he to\nwait till to-morrow for the summons of his proud princess? As he opened\nhis door he saw that the fire had been kept up; some one kneeling\nbefore it turned at his entrance and faced him. It was Christina.\nThe shock of her presence was cruelly sweet. The firelight played over\nher soft light gown; she had taken off her gloves and the ruddiness\ngleamed on her arms and her long throat and on the sheen of her hair. As\nshe rose slowly to her feet that something at once ineffably luxurious\nand ineffably spiritual which hung about her like the emanation of a\nperfume stirred uneasily in him and his senses ached. Never had her\nfairness hurt him like that; his passion rose into his throat and held\nhim dumb.\n\"The man looked at me, hard,\" she told him, \"and let me in. I came here\nto rest. And because I didn't want to be scolded. Don't scold me.\nPerhaps I've thrown away a world this afternoon. But no; it will roll\nback to be picked up again. Listen, and tell me that I was right.\"\nWithout stirring, \"I can never tell you but the one thing,\" he said. \"I\nlove you!\"\nIt was no sooner said than he loathed himself for speaking. He had not\ndreamed that he should say such a thing. It was not yet a month since\nher engagement to Ingham had been broken; she was a young girl; she was\nhere alone with him in his rooms, to which she had paid him the perfect\nhonor of coming--she, who had accepted him so simply, so nobly, as a\ngentleman. Hot shame and black despair seized upon him.\nThe girl stood quiet as if controlling herself. Then, so gently that she\nwas almost inaudible, she said, \"I must go!\"\nHe could not answer her; he was aware of the ripple and murmur of her\ndress as she fetched her wraps; she put on her hat and the lace of her\nsleeves foamed back from her arms in the ruddy light; he felt how soon\nshe would be engulfed by that world which was already rolling back to be\npicked up. He stepped forward to help her with her thin chiffon coat and\nshe suffered this, gently, passively; as it slipped over her shoulders\nhe felt her turn; he felt her arms come around his neck, clinging to\nhim, and the sweetness of her body on his breast. In that firelit room\nher lips were cold, as they stumbled on his throat with the low cry,\n\"Oh, you love me!--You love me!\" she repeated. \"And you're a man! Save\nme!\"\nCHAPTER V\nHERRICK HEARS A BELL RING\n\"Don't let them take me!\" Christina entreated. \"Don't let them lock me\nup! That door--! Turn the key!\"\nWithout demur he turned it. He was in that commotion of bewildered\nfeeling where one shock after another deliciously and terribly strikes\nupon the heart, and anything seems possible. From the trembling girl his\npulses took a myriad alarms; apprehension of he knew not what ran riot\nin them and credited the suggestions of her terror; but all the while\nhis blood rushed through him, warm and singing, and his heart glowed.\nShe was here, with him! She had fled here and clung to him for defense!\nShe loved him! In no dream, now, did she lie back there, in the deep\nchair beside his fire, with her hand clasping his eagerly as he knelt\nand her shoulder leaning against his. It was keener than any dream; it\nwas that fullness of life, which, even at Herrick's age, we have mostly\nceased to expect.\n\"There are detectives shadowing me,\" Christina said. \"Don't deny it--I\nknow! They've been following me from the beginning!\"\n[Illustration: \"There are detectives shadowing me,\" Christina said.\n\"Don't deny it--I know!\"]\n\"But why, dearest, why?\"\n\"Because they think I killed Jim Ingham.\"\n\"Christina! Why should they think such a thing?\"\n\"Why shouldn't they? Don't you?\"\nShe put her finger on his lips to still his cry of protest, and, looking\ndown into his face, her own eyes slowly filled with that brooding of\nmaternal tenderness which seemed to search him through and through. For\na moment he thought that her eyes brimmed, that her lips trembled with\nsome communication. But, without speaking, she ran her hand along his\narm and a quiver passed through her; taking his face in her two hands\nshe bent and kissed his mouth. In that kiss they plighted a deeper troth\nthan in ten thousand promises. And, creeping close into his breast with\na shuddering sigh, she pressed her cheek to his. \"Oh, Bryce, you won't\nlet them take me away? I can stand anything but being locked up--I\ncouldn't bear that--I couldn't! What can I do?\"\n\"My dearest, no one in the world can harm you!\"\n\"I came here to be safe, where I could touch you. Let me rest here a\nlittle, and feel your heart close to me. Oh, my love, I'm so frightened!\nI thought I was strong! I thought I was brave and could go through with\nit! But I can't! I'm tired--to death! All through my soul, I'm cold.\nIt's only here I can get warm!\"\n\"Christina,\" he asked her, \"go through with what?\"\nShe stirred in his arms and drew back. \"Look first--ah, carefully!--from\nthe window. What do you see?\"\n\"Nothing but ordinary people passing. And the usual number of waiting\ntaxis.\"\n\"Well, in the nearest of those taxis is a detective. He has been\nfollowing me all the afternoon. He is sitting there waiting for me to\ncome out.\"\nHerrick carried her hand to his lips. \"Christina, don't think me a\ncursed schoolmaster. But it's imagination, dear. You've driven yourself\nwild with all this worry and excitement. Why, believe me, they're not so\nclumsy! If they were following you, you wouldn't know it.\"\n\"I tell you I've known it for at least two weeks! I'm an actress, and\nif, as they say, we've no intelligence, only instincts, well then, our\ninstincts are extraordinarily developed. And mine tells me that, over\nmy shoulder, there is a shadow creeping, creeping, looming on my path.\"\nA series of sounds burst on the air. Herrick went to the window. \"There,\nmy sweet, the taxi's gone.\"\n\"Did no one get out?\"\n\"No one.\"\nHe had snatched up her hand again and he felt her relax.\n\"Well, I ought to be used to shadows; all my girlhood there has been a\nshadow near me. Bryce, when I was really a child, something happened.\nSomething that changed my whole heart--oh, you shall know before you\nmarry me! I shall find a way to tell you!--It made me a rebel and a\ncynic; it made me wish to have nothing to do with the rules men make; I\nhad to find my own morality. Only, when I saw you, I felt such a\nstrength and freshness, like sunny places. Bryce!\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"My feeling for Jim was dead a year ago. Do you believe that?\"\n\"Oh, my darling! Why--\"\n\"Because I won't have you think me shameless! Nor that an accident, like\ndeath, turned my light love to you! I was just twenty when he first\nasked me to marry him; I was so mad about him that my head swam. And yet\nit wasn't love. It was only infatuation and I knew it. I was still young\nenough for him to be a sort of prince--all elegance and the great world.\nThe last two have been my big years, Bryce. I was rather a poor little\ngirl till then. Even so, I held him off ten months. I felt that there\nwas a curse on it and that it could never, never be! What did I know of\nmen or that great world--well, God knows he taught me! When I did\nconsent to our engagement the fire was already dying. But by that time\nthe idea of him had grown into me. He had always a great influence over\nme, Bryce, and he could trouble and excite me long after he had\nbroken my dream. Oh, my dear, it was one long quarrel. It was a year's\nstruggle for my freedom! Well, I got my release. I didn't wait for\nfate.\" She paused. And then with a low gasp, \"All my life I've stood\nquite alone. I have been hard. I have been independent. I have been\nbrave--oh, yes, I can say it; I have been brave!--but I've broken down.\nOnly, if you will let me keep hold of you, I shall get courage.\"\n\"Christina!\"\n\"Do you know how big you are? Or what a clear look your eyes have got?\nThere in that coroner's office--oh, heavens,--among those\n_stones_!--Bryce, he was there this afternoon! that man!\"\n\"Ten Euyck? Yes, I know.\"\n\"Do you know what he means to do as Police Inspector? He means to run me\ndown! Wait--you've never known. I've kept so still--I didn't want to\nthink of it. Four years ago he payed for the production of a play of\nhis, by a stock company I was with. Oh, my dear, that play! It gave us\nall quite a chill! He wanted his Mark Antony played like a young\ngentleman arranging the marriage-settlements. But he took the rehearsals\nso hard, he nearly killed us.\" She hesitated. \"He was very kind to me.\nHe was too kind. One night, he met me as I was coming out of the\ntheater, and--forgot himself. One of the boys in the company, who was\nright behind me, slapped him in the face! Do you mean to tell me that he\nhas ever forgotten that? At the inquest he thought he had me down, and\nthe laugh turned against him! Is he the man to forget that?\"\n\"But what can he do?\"\n\"How I detested him!\" Christina hurried on. \"He taught me, in that one\nminute, when I was eighteen, how men feel about girls who aren't in\ntheir class! Just because I was on the stage, he took it for granted\nI--Well, he, too, learned something! Since then I've heard about him.\nHe isn't a hypocrite, he's an egoist. I wonder, were some of the\nPuritans really like that? He's so very proper, and so particular not to\nentangle himself with respectable women! But with women he calls bad he\ndoesn't mind--because for him bad women don't count, they don't exist!\nOh, dear God, how I despise a man who feels like that! How I love you,\nwho never, never could! Does he really know, I wonder, that sometimes\nit's the coldest of heart who can be made to turn his ships at\nActium?--'What can he do?' He can hope I'm guilty! And he can use all\nthe machinery of his office to prove me so!\"\n\"Why, look here, dearest, if he's never revenged himself on the man who\nstruck him--\"\nChristina gave a shrill little cry. \"But, now he has his chance with me!\nHis great spectacular chance! Oh, Bryce, I'm afraid of him, and I was\nnever afraid before!--Dearest dear, I know you can't do anything! But\nthe girl's in love with you, poor thing, and she feels as if you can!\nI've wanted you--oh, how I've wanted you!--all my life. I've known the\ndearest fellows in the world, the cleverest, the gamest, the most\ncharming. But they were too much like poor Christina; fidgety things,\nnervous and on edge. 'You take me where the good winds blow and the\neternal meadows are!'--What are you doing?\"\nHe had bowed down to kiss her wrist and he replied, \"I'm thanking God I\nlook like a farmer!\"\n\"My poor boy!\" cried Christina, breaking her tears with little laughs,\n\"I've got your cheek all wet! Bryce dear, we're engaged, aren't we? You\nhaven't said.--Bryce!\"\nHe slipped back onto the floor, with his head in her lap and her two\nhands gathered in his one. They were both silent. The little fire was\ngoing out and the room was almost dark. And in that happy depth of life\nwhere she had led him he was at first unaware of any change. Then he\nknew that the hands he held had become tense, that rigidity was\ncreeping over her whole body, and looking up, he could just make out\nthrough the dusk, the alert head, the parted lips of one who is waiting\nfor a sound. \"Bryce,\" she said, \"you were mistaken. That detective has\nnot gone!\"\n\"What do you hear?\"\n\"I don't hear. I simply know.\" Their senses strained into the silence.\n\"If he went away, it was only to bring some one back. He went to get Ten\nEuyck!\"\n\"Christina! Tell me what you're really afraid of!\"\n\"Oh! Oh!\" she breathed.\n\"Christina, what was it you couldn't go through with?\"\n\"Death!\" she said. \"Not that way! I can't!\" She rocked herself softly to\nand fro. \"If I could die now!\" she whispered.\n\"You shan't die. And you shan't go crazy, either. You're driving\nyourself mad, keeping silence.\" He drew her to her feet, and she stood,\nshaking, in his arms. \"Christina, what's your trouble?\"\n\"Nancy,--that murder--my opening--my danger--aren't they enough?\"\n\"For everything but your conviction that it is you who are pursued, and\nyou who will be punished. Some horrible accident, dear heart, has shown\nyou something, which you must tell. Tell it to me, and we will find that\nit is nothing.\"\n\"Bryce,\" she said, \"they're coming. It's our last time together. Don't\nlet's spend it like this.\"\n\"Did you--\" he asked her so tenderly that it sounded like a caress, \"did\nyou, in some terrible emergency, in some defense, dear, of yourself,\nChristina--did you fire that shot?\"\nHer head swung back; she did not answer.\n\"My darling, if you did we must just take counsel whether to fight or to\nrun. Don't be afraid. The world's before us. Christina, did you?\"\n\"No, no, no!\" she whispered. \"I did not!\" She felt his quiver of relief,\nand her nervous hands closed on his sleeve. \"Oh, if you only knew. There\nis a thing I long to tell you! But not that! Oh, if I could trust you!\"\n\"Can't you?\"\n\"I mean--trust you to see things as I do! To do only what I ask! What I\nchose--not what was best for me! Suppose that some one whom--Bryce?\"\n\"Yes?\"\n\"If any one should hear--\"\n\"There is no one to hear.\"\n\"You can't tell where they are.\"\n\"Christina, can't you see that we're alone here? That the door's locked?\nThat you're safe in my arms? The cab went away. No one followed you. No\none even knows where I live; my dear, dear love, we're all alone--\"\nThe door-bell sounded through the house.\nHe thought the girl would have fallen and his own heart leaped in his\nside. \"Darling, it's nothing. It's for some one else.\"\n\"It's for me.\"\n\"That's impossible.\"\nThere was a knock on the door.\nHerrick called--\"Who's there?\"\n\"It's a card, sir.\"\n\"A card?\"\n\"A gentleman's card, sir. He's down in the hall.\"\n\"I can't see any one at present.\"\n\"It's not for you, sir; it's for the young lady.\"\n\"Did you tell him there was a lady here?\"\n\"He knew it himself, sir.\"\n\"Well, she came in here because she felt ill; I'm just taking her home.\nShe can't be bothered.\"\n\"He said it was very important, sir. Something she's to do to-morrow,\"\nhe said.\n\"Christina! It's only some one about your going away.\"\n\"No. It's the end. Take the card.\"\nSpringing on the light, he took the card to reassure her. She motioned\nhim to read it. And he read aloud the words \"Mr. Ten Euyck.\"\nCHAPTER VI\nAND HOLDS A RECEPTION AFTER ALL\nChristina took the card from him, and seemed to put him to one side.\nAlmost inaudibly she said, \"I will go down.\"\nBefore Herrick could prevent her, a voice from just outside the door\nreplied, \"Don't trouble yourself, Miss Hope. May I come in?\" Ten Euyck,\nhat in hand, appeared in the doorway.\nHe looked from one to the other, noting Christina's tear-stained face,\nwith a civil, sour smile. \"I am sorry if I intrude. I had no idea Mr.\nHerrick was to be my host. The truth is, Miss Hope, I followed you and\nhave been waiting for you, in the hope of making peace--where it was\nonce my unhappy fortune to make war.\"\nChristina said, \"You followed me!\"\n\"But I shouldn't have yielded to that impulse so far as to--well, break\ninto Mr. Herrick's apartment, if I had not become, in the meanwhile,\nsimply the messenger of--a higher power.\" Ten Euyck tried to say the\nlast phrase like a jest, but it stuck in his throat. He moved out of the\ndoorway, and there stepped past him into the room the man whom Herrick\nhad seen at the Pilgrims'. \"Miss Hope, Mr. Herrick,\" Ten Euyck said,\n\"Mr. Kane; our District Attorney.\"\nKane nodded quickly to each of them. \"Miss Hope,\" he said, \"I don't\noften play postman; but when I met our friend Ten Euyck outside and he\ntold me you were here, the opportunity was too good to lose.\" He took a\nletter out of his pocket, watching her with shrewd and smiling eyes.\n\"We've been tampering with your mail. Allow me.\"\nChristina took the letter wonderingly, but at its heading her face\ncontemptuously brightened. \"I can hardly see,\" she said, passing it to\nHerrick. \"Read it, will you?--He would have to know anyhow,\" she said\nsweetly to the two officials. \"We are just engaged to be married. You\nmust congratulate us.\"\nHerrick, never very eloquent, was stricken dumb. \"Sit down, won't you?\"\nwas as much as he could ask his guests. The letter ran--\n\"The Arm of Justice suggests to Miss Christina Hope that she exert her\nwell-known powers of fascination to persuade the Ingham family into\npaying the Arm of Justice its ten thousand dollars. Miss Hope need not\nwork for nothing, nor even in order to avert an accusation against which\nshe doubtless feels secure. But the Arm of Justice has in its possession\na secret which Miss Hope would give much to know. She may learn what\nthat secret is, and how it may be negotiated if she will hang this white\nribbon out of the window wherever she may be dining on Monday. She will\nreceive a communication at once.\"\n\"Exactly!\" said Kane, as though in triumph. \"For such swells as the Arms\nof Justice it's about dinner-time now. Would you oblige me, Miss Hope,\nby tying the ribbon out of the window? Show yourself as clearly as\npossible. All the lights, please.\"\nAs Christina stepped to the window, he added, \"I'm trusting they didn't\nrecognize us as we came in. It's pretty dark.\"\nThey waited. The three men were strung to a high degree of expectation.\n\"But it's all so silly!\" Christina said. The call of the telephone\nshrilled through the room.\n\"Miss Hope?\" Herrick asked. \"Yes, she's here.\"\nThen they heard Christina answering, \"Yes, yes, it's Miss Hope. I hear.\nI understand. I'll be there.\" She hung up the receiver and turned round.\n\"The Park. To-morrow. At ten in the morning. The bench under the\nsquirrel's house at the top of the hill beyond the Hundred-and-tenth\nStreet entrance. And be sure to come alone.\" She sat down, staring at\nKane.\nHe said, \"Excuse me!\" and went to the 'phone. \"Boy! Did that party ask\nfor Miss Hope in the first place? All right. That's queer. They asked\nfor Mr. Herrick's apartment.\"\n\"They knew I was living here? Why, I only moved in this morning.\"\n\"And they must know I'm going on the road to-morrow; the eleven-thirty\ntrain!\"\n\"Exactly. They're well informed.\" Kane had been passing up and down; now\nhe stopped in front of Christina and again he seemed to measure her with\nhis keen eyes. \"Well!\" he said; \"are you game for it?\"\nChristina sprang up and stood before him, glowing.\n\"You'll keep this appointment?\"\n\"Surely! And alone!\"\n\"Not by a long shot! Your mother and Mr. Ingham have feared exactly some\nsuch escapade; that's why you've had to be shadowed all this while and\nnot advised of the activities of the police. There will be plenty of\nplain clothes men, well planted. But not you, Mr. Herrick, whom they\nwould know. If you attempt to smuggle yourself in, we'll have to put you\nin irons. Well, Miss Hope?\"\n\"My mother,\" said Christina, rising, and faintly smiling, \"deserves to\nhave her hair turn as white as I'm sure it has by this time.\" She held\nout her hand. \"You gave me a great fright,\" she said. \"Did you know it?\nI thought you had all come to execute me. Don't! I'm not worth it!\"\nThe admiration which no man could withhold from her for very long\ncolored Kane's studying face and warmed his handshake. \"I can count on\nyour not losing your head, I think. You'll be there?\"\n\"I'll be there.--But have these people really any secret? Are they\nreally going to tell me something?\"\n\"Well, my dear young lady, we'll know that to-morrow.\"\nCHAPTER VII\nMORNING IN THE PARK: THE SILENT OUTCRY\nThe week in which Christina was to open in \"The Victors\" was one of\nthose which call down the curses of dramatic critics by producing a new\nplay each night. Thursday was to see the opening of openings; there were\nbut two nights on the road and Mrs. Hope and Herrick were to live\nthrough these as best they might in a metropolis that was once more a\ndesert.\nAfter that momentous interview of Monday evening Christina would not let\nHerrick drive home with her. \"Come to the station in the morning, and\nhear what has happened. Lunch with me on Thursday. But don't let me see\nyou alone again till Friday noon, when--\" she laughed--\"when I've read\nmy notices. Let your poor Christina tell you her trouble then. Till then\nshe has trouble enough!\" She put her face up with a kind of humble\nfrankness, to be kissed. And he saw that it was a weary face, indeed.\nThroughout the night his anxiety concerning the next day's meeting with\nthe blackmailers contended in him with that other anxiety: what she was\nto tell him on Friday--when she had read her notices! Whatever it was,\nit was not for his passion that he feared. There were even times when he\ncould almost have wished it were not some distorted molehill that the\ngirl's excitable broodings had swollen past all proportion, but some\ntest of his strength, some plumbing of his tenderness. And then again he\nwould be aware of a cold air crawling over his heart, of that horrible\nsinking of the stomach with which, walking in the dark, we feel that we\nare taking a step into space. A black wall, ominous, menacing and very\nnear, would loom upon him and blind him from the wholesome and habitable\nworld. The daylight reinforced his faith in simpler probabilities. It\nwashed away all but the sweetly humble arrogance of the one fact which\nall night long had shot in glory through his veins and built itself into\nthe foundations of his life. With the day he remembered only that she\nloved him.\nHe hung about the outskirts of One Hundred-and-tenth Street till he saw\nher enter the Park and till he saw her leave it--safe, but with an\nexceedingly clouded brow.\n\"They didn't come, of course!\" she said to him at the station. \"They\nvery naturally refused to swim into a net. Mr. Kane is a great dear, but\nI wish he would mind his own business! Mother, speak to Bryce.\" She took\nleave of them both with a serenely fond indifference to public\nconjecture and the train bore her away.\nMrs. Hope may habitually have endeavored to clutch at the life-lines of\nher own world even while she was being submerged in the billows of\nChristina's but she was not mercenary and she accepted Herrick with an\nevident thankfulness that he was no worse. When he had taken her home,\nhe found himself at a loss as to what to do with his life. Christina had\nbecome so wholly his occupation that to lose her even for a few days was\nto lose the bottom out of the world. Although the morning was still\nswathed in yesterday's fog, the sun was struggling, the damp air was\nvery warm, and his steps turned toward the Park. But he did not follow\nthe paths which he and Christina had trod homeward from rehearsals;\ninstinctively, he turned north. Then he smiled to see that he was once\nmore making for the Hundred-and-tenth Street entrance.\nYes, here was the last spot which had held her, and, as he looked about\nhim, his heart stirred to think of her here. They should come here\ntogether, he and she. The place was a little wilderness; he could not\nhave believed that in that kempt and ordered domain there could be so\nwild and sweet a grace of nature and charmed loneliness. The hill was\nhigh and thinly wooded; finely veiled in the mist and the faint sunshine\nit was the very spot for the dryad length and lightness of Christina's\nmovements. At the same time, so close to the city's hum, there seemed\nsomething magic, something ominous and waiting in the utter, perfect\nstillness, and the little clearing at the top of the hill somehow,\nwhether by its broken boulders or the columnar straightness of a\nsemicircle of trees, suggested a Druid clearing. Those who wished to\nmake a sacrifice here would be very strangely unmolested. High and low\nand far away there was no human figure, and a cry might perish long\nbefore it traveled those misty distances. Herrick thought, \"If she had\ncome alone!\" and shuddered.\nBut there was the little squirrel house; there the bench where she had\nwaited; and at its base he smiled to see the scattered nuts which\nChristina, with her variegated interests, had not failed to bring her\nfurry hosts. A lassitude of loneliness came over him; he was still not\nwholly recovered from his accident of three weeks before and with a\nweary yielding to stiffness and weakness he dropped down on the bench.\nThen he saw that along one of its slats some one had recently penciled a\nline, and he recognized Christina's hand. \"I will come again for three\ndays running, after Thursday. At the same hour. And I will come\n_alone_.\"\nHe was startled, but he smiled. It was so like her! Looking up, he saw\nbehind him a man sweeping leaves in the distance, and, far down the\nhill, there appeared a loafer with a newspaper. The charm was broken.\nGood heavens, where were people starting from! He could perceive, now,\nto his left a man sleeping in the grass. Could any of these be the plain\nclothes men, still lingering hopefully about? By George, they must be!\nAnd Christina was right--they were too obvious a snare! Why, there was\na fourth, altogether too loutishly and innocently eating an apple as he\nstrayed on!\nHerrick looked down at Christina's message, wondering if the detectives\nhad seen it. Intrepid and obstinate darling, how resolute she was to\nknow all there was to be known! When he looked up again he saw that the\nslumberer had wakened and was sitting up. The other three men were\napproaching from their respective angles, nearer and nearer to the\nbench. And then it occurred to him--did they take him for a blackmailer?\nIt made him laugh and then somehow it vexed him; and he began to stir\nthe fallen leaves with a light stick he carried, restlessly. The men\ncame on, and it annoyed him to be surrounded like this, as by a pack of\nwolves. He lifted his head impatiently, and was about to hail the\nnearest man when a splash of sun fell full on that man's face. It was\nthe face of the chauffeur in the gray touring-car.\nHe knew then that he was in a trap. Controlling his first impulse to\nspring up and bring the struggle to an issue, he counted his chances. He\nremembered how far and still was this deserted spot; his muscles were\nvery stiff, and he felt the slimness of the stick in his hand. He had no\nother weapon. And there were four of those figures sauntering in upon\nhim through the silence and the pale, dreamy sunshine. He felt the high,\nhot beating of his heart. The city lay so close at hand! He could still\nfeel on his mouth Christina's kiss! And the immense desire to live, and\nall a man's fury against outrage, against this causeless and\ninexplicable brute-hate, which already, in the city's very streets, had\ndared to maim and tried to murder him, rose in him with a colder rage\nand kept him quiet and expressionless. He rose; and striking the dust of\nthe bench from his clothes, he glanced about. Yes, the man behind him\nwas still advancing, sweeping leaves; down the hill before him the man\nclimbed upward, still mumbling over his newspaper; to his right the\napple-eater, chewing his last bite, tossed away the core as he came on;\nthe chauffeur alone disdained subterfuge, advancing quietly; he carried\nin his hand some lengths of rope. Herrick believed that he had one\nchance. This wooded isolation could not be so far-reaching as it seemed:\nthey would scarcely dare to fire a shot.\nLeisurely he idled a step or two down the slope toward the man with the\nnewspaper, till he was just outside the closing semicircle of the\nothers. Then, lowering his head, he shot swiftly forward. Immediately\nthere was a shrill whistle and the reader cast his newspaper away. It\nwas too late; Herrick's lowered head struck him in the diaphragm and\nknocked him backwards. As he fell, Herrick leaped over him and turning,\ncaught the chauffeur a stinging blow across the eyes with his stick. The\nstick broke; and Herrick, dropping to his knees, caught the ankle of the\nnext comer and threw him flat upon his face. The fourth man flung a\nblackjack which, as Herrick rose up, caught him just below the right\nelbow; the young fellow sprang up and, shouting now for help at the top\nof his strong voice, he raced down the hill as if, once more, he were\nbearing the ball to its last goal.\nFor a moment he felt that he had snatched the victory, but his stiff\nmuscles played him false and his right arm hung as if paralyzed. His\nshouts, too, were leaving him winded and the fourth man, now\nconsiderably in advance of the others, was gaining on him at every step.\nSuddenly Herrick mistook the shadow of a little bush for the shadow of a\nfifth opponent; in his second's wavering the fourth man lunged at him,\nmissed him, and losing his own balance clutched the end of Herrick's\ncoat. They both went down together, getting and giving blows; and though\nHerrick was up and off again in an instant, the breath was pretty well\nknocked out of him. Violent pains were throbbing now through his arm; he\nseemed to himself as heavy as lead; near the bottom of the hill the\nfourth man was on him again; Herrick landed on the fellow's head with\nhis left, only to fall himself into the hands of the two whom he had\nthrown at first and who now fell upon him with a zeal that all his\nFrench boxing, which enabled him to land a kick in one jaw and a\nhorrible backheeled stroke into the ribs of the fellow who was trying to\nwrap a coat round his head, scarcely availed to rid him of. He gathered\nhimself together for one shout that seemed to him to crack the\ntree-trunks. But the game was up; without knowing it he was turning\nfaint from the pain in his arm, and then the men were all round him now;\nbarring his path and only holding off from him a little because the\nchauffeur was running down hill toward them, aiming at Herrick, as he\ncame, the rope which he had tied into a noose. Herrick leaped to one\nside, and clinging to the tactics which had served him best, dropped to\nthe ground and pulled the chauffeur down atop of him. They clenched like\nthat and went, rolling and struggling, down the hill; striking against\ntrees, kicking, clawing, blind with rage, till they were stopped by the\nflat ground. It was Herrick who landed on his back and found himself\nstaring up at the revolver the chauffeur was drawing from his pocket. At\nthat moment there sounded a policeman's whistle.\nThe man who had been running after them with the coat for Herrick's\nhead, dropped it and ran like mad. His companion's arm had been broken\nby Herrick's kick, but this man and the fourth continued wildly\nsearching for something they had dropped on the hill. The chauffeur had\nhad to ease a little on Herrick in order to draw his gun; but when he\nfelt Herrick struggling onto his right side and even rolling himself on\ntop of his right arm, he quickly slid the barrel of the revolver into\nhis palm and lifted the butt-end. As he did so Herrick's left fist shot\nup and dealt him a blow on the point of the chin. He fell back as if his\nneck were broken; the pistol slipped out of his hand and Herrick caught\nit just as the man with the broken arm dropped on his chest. The\npolicemen's whistles were sounding nearer and nearer; the man on\nHerrick's chest kept him from aiming the pistol, but he discharged it in\nthe grass, shot after shot, five of them, to guide the police. \"Let him\nhave it!\" said the man on top of Herrick, but in an Italian phrase, to\nthe fourth man, who leaned over Herrick raising what the other had\ndropped back there on the hill. It was the blackjack. Herrick could just\nturn the pistol a little and point it upward from his side. He fired it\nstraight into the fourth man's face; and he was always glad, afterward,\nthat, like a sick girl, he had closed his eyes. The next man who bent\nover him was a policeman.\n\"Don't mind me,\" Herrick said, \"get them! Get after them!\" But that\nautomobile of theirs must have been waiting on the driveway near at\nhand; for the man whom Herrick had shot dead was the only one they\ncaught.\nAt first the body seemed to offer no clue; save a soiled and torn half\nof a blank card on which had been uncouthly scribbled the number\n1411--unless its being the body of a young Italian could be called a\nclue. Herrick, who had, of course, accompanied it to the station under a\nnominal arrest, turned sick with disappointment. At that moment the\nlieutenant in charge emitted an exclamation. He had found on the dead\nman a letter addressed in the typewriting of the Arm of Justice to\nChristina Hope. The inclosure was intact, and the lieutenant held it out\nto Herrick.\nTo the single sheet of paper was fastened a thick, soft curl of dark red\nhair. Under the curl, in a rounded but girlish handwriting, were four\nwords: \"Help me, dear Chris!\"\nCHAPTER VIII\nA GREAT OCCASION APPROACHES AND THE VILLAIN ENTERS\nThis piece of information was very carefully guarded from the\nnewspapers. Nothing of the Arm of Justice had as yet leaked out. But the\nfight in the Park was another matter; people linked it with the sinister\nautomobile, and it broke out in headlines everywhere. Herrick began to\nfind himself the most widely advertised man in New York; his\nbattle-scarred appearance was but too apt to proclaim his identity and\nhe did not know whether he most objected to being considered a hero who\nhad slain four ruffians with one hand or a presumptuous nine-pin always\nbeing bowled over and having to be rescued by the police! There was a\ngood deal of pain below his elbow, where the blackjack had temporarily\nparalyzed certain muscles, so that for another day or so his arm hung\nhelpless at his side; he could almost have wished it a more dangerous\nwound! Curious or jeering friends made his life a burden; Christina\ncalled him up over the long distance 'phone and swore him not to leave\nthe house without his revolver; Marion telegraphed him entreaties to\ncome home, and his own mind seethed in a turmoil of question and of\nhorrible fancy to which the young figure of Nancy Cornish was the\nunhappy center. Nor could Mrs. Hope be called a comforting companion.\n\"Besides, Mr. Herrick,--Bryce--were they trying to kidnap you, too? And\nif so, wouldn't you think they had enough on their hands already? Or did\nthey mean to murder you, really? And if so, why? Why? And, oh, Mr.\nBryce, just think how uncontrollable Christina is--and who will it be\nnext?\" Often as Herrick had asked himself these and many other\nquestions, they could not lose their interest for him. His mind spun\nround in them like a squirrel which finds no opening to its cage.\nNotoriety, however, sometimes brings strange fish in its net. And when\nMrs. Grubey stopped Herrick on the street to applaud his prowess as a\npugilist, within the loose-woven mesh of her wonder and concern he\nseemed to catch a singular gleam, significant of he knew not what.\nFor Mrs. Grubey, in celebrating the hero which Herrick had become to her\nJohnnie, did hope that he would see the boy, sometime, and use his\ninfluence against his being such a little liar.--\"You remember that\nqueer toy pistol, Mr. Herrick, that he said he borrowed off a boy\nfriend?\"\n\"A. A. A., Algebra, Astronomy and Art-Drawing! It had no connection with\nthem?\"\n\"Why, it never come from a school at all!\"\n\"I misdoubted it! Art-Drawing was rather elaborate than convincing.\"\n\"Oh, you'd oughtn't to laugh, Mr. Herrick--and the child so naughty! Why\nthat morning after Mr. Ingham was killed he found it propping open the\nslit in our letter box.\" Herrick ceased to laugh. \"He was so set on\nkeeping it he made up that story, and then to go to work and lose it,\nan' it so queer the stones in it was maybe real--\"\n\"He lost it, then?\"\n\"Els't we'd never have known on account of him coming home crying. He\nlost it in the Park, where he'd been playing train-robber with it an'\nlots o' the loafers on benches watchin' him. A bigger boy got it away\nfrom him, larkin' back an' forth, an' threw it to him, an' just then a\nhorse took fright from an automobile and run up on the grass with its\nrig. The boys scattered in a hurry an' when they come back the pistol\nwas gone. He hadn't noticed no particular person watching, so he didn't\nknow who was gone, too. I tell him, God took it to punish his lyin',\"\nconcluded Mrs. Grubey, with the self-righteousness of perfect truth,\n\"but I certainly would like to know how much it was worth! An' how it\never got there an' who it belonged to.\"\nHerrick had a vision of a comic valentine he had received on the same\nmorning. \"I'm afraid it was meant for me!\" he said. He knew this could\nnot clear things up much for Mrs. Grubey; and afterward he fell to\nwondering if the capital \"C\" scratched on the dummy pistol's golden\nsurface bore any similarity to the slender, pointed lettering which had\nformed the words \"To the Apollo in the bath-robe.\" He could never\nremember when the initials rose before him in a new order; the A's blent\nas one and then the C--A. C.--Oh, madness! Yet, on Friday, he would ask\nChristina.\nOne other tribute to his popular fame gave him a new idea. It came from\nhis Yankee woman at the table d'h\u00f4te. The night after the attack she\nmotioned him to her as he was leaving and without ceasing to play\nsolitaire she said, \"If I was you, young feller, I guess I wouldn't come\ndown here for one while.\"\nHis eyes opened in amused surprise. \"Why not?\"\n\"Ain't you the one shot a Dago yesterday in the Park? Pshaw, you needn't\ntell me--I know 'twas 'cause you had t' do it! An' good riddance! But\nit's healthier for you to stay where you belong.\"\nHerrick looked round him on the good-tempered, smiling people at the\nlittle clean tables, and laughed. \"But you don't suppose the whole\nnation is one united Black-Hand, do you? You seem to have a mighty poor\nopinion of Italians!\"\n\"Well,\" said the woman, with a grim smile of her own, \"I married one.\nI'd oughta know!\"\nShe finished her game and seeing him still lingering, in enjoyment of\nher tartness, she said, \"All forriners 're pretty poor folks. When I\nget mad at my children I say it's the streak of forrin' in 'em. Well, my\ngirl's good Yankee, anyhow. Fair as anybody. It's my son's took after\nhis father, poor fellow!\"\n\"Then the proprietress, here, isn't your daughter?\"\n\"Her? Sakes, no! She's my niece-in-law. I brought up my daughter like\nshe was an American girl! It's my son keeps in with these! He's\nhomesick. My daughter's husband got into a little bit o' trouble in the\nOld Country,\" said this remarkable little dame, without the least\nembarrassment, \"and her an' me's glad enough to stay here. But the men\nkind o' mope. Their business worries 'em and as I say, 'tain't the\nbusiness I ever would have chose, but I s'pose when I married a Dago I\nmight's well made up my mind to it!\" She said this with an air\ninimitably business like, and so continued--\"Now I want you should clear\nout from here, young man! There's all kinds of fellers come here. It may\nbe awful funny to you to think o' gettin' a knife in your back, but I\ndon't want it any round where I am! When they're after Dagoes, it ain't\nmy business. But my own folks is my own folks.\"\nNow it could not be denied that there was something not wholly\nreassuring as to the pursuits of this respectable old lady's family in\nthis speech, and in lighter-hearted times Herrick might have noted it as\na testimonial to that theory of his concerning the matter-of-fact in\ncrime. But now it suggested to him that he might do worse than look for\nthe faces of the blackmailers in such little eating-places as this one.\nAfter all, they evidently were Italians, and it was with Italians that\nthey would sojourn. Yes--that was one line to follow! He remembered that\nthis region was in or adjacent to Ten Euyck's district and he wondered\nif he could bring himself to ask the favor of a list of its Latin\nhaunts. He and Mrs. Hope were on their way to a big Wednesday night\nopening when this resolution took definite shape, and it was strange,\nwith his mind full of these ideas, to come into the crush and dazzle of\nthe theater lobby.\nMrs. Hope at once began bowing right and left; the theatrical season was\nstill so young that there were actors and actresses everywhere. Herrick,\nabnormally aware of his new conspicuousness, could only endeavor to look\npleasant; and, trailing, like a large helpless child, in her wake, was\nglad to catch the friendly eye of Joe Patrick; fellow-sufferer in a\ncommon cause, whom Christina's recommendation as usher he perceived to\nhave landed him here, instead of at the theater where she was to play.\nUnfortunately Joe hailed him by name, in an unexpectedly carrying voice;\na blush for which Herrick could have kicked himself with rage flamed\nover him to the roots of his hair, and when he perceived, with horror,\nthat they were entering a box, he clutched Mrs. Hope's cloak and slunk\nbehind the curtains with it like a raw boy.\nBut even so, there was a continual coming and going of acquaintances,\nmany of whom conveyed a sort of sympathetic flutter over Mrs. Hope's\ninterest in to-night's play; an impression that Christina must feel her\nown absence simply too hard, and Herrick smiled to think how much more\nconcentrated were Christina's interests than they realized. Not but\ntheir expectation of her appearance to-morrow was keen enough. It seemed\nto Herrick that there was a thrill of it in all the audience, which\npersistently studied Mrs. Hope's box. Christina's genius was a burning\nquestion, and the unknown quantity of her success agitated her\nprofession like a troubled air--through which how many eyes were already\nardently directed toward to-morrow night, passionate astronomers,\nattendant on a new star! Murders come and murders go, but here was a\ngirl who, in a few hours, might throw open the brand-new continent of a\nnew career; who, next season, might be a queen, with powers like life\nand death fast in her hands. And, with that tremendous absorption in\ntheir own point of view which Herrick had not failed to observe in the\nmembers of Christina's profession, people asked if it wasn't too\ndreadful that this business of Ingham's murder and Nancy Cornish's\ndisappearance should happen just at this time, when it might upset\nChristina for her performance?\nMrs. Hope introduced him to all comers with a liberality which her\ndaughter had been far from displaying, and he could see them studying\nhim and trying to place him in Christina's life. It was clear to him\nthat if he ranked high, they were glad he had not gone and got himself\nbeaten to death in the Park, or it might have upset her still more. He\nthought of the girl whose wet cheek had pressed his in the firelight.\nThe sweetness of the memory was sharp as a knife, and the rise of the\ncurtain, displaying wicked aristocrats of Louis the Fourteenth, sporting\non the lawns of Versailles, could not deaden it.\nFor if there is one quality essential to the effect of wicked\naristocrats it is that of breeding; and of all mortal qualities there is\nnone to which managers are so indifferent. In a costume play more\nparticularly, there is one requisite for men and one only; size. Solemn\nbulks, with the accents of Harlem, Piccadilly and Pittsburgh, bowed\nthemselves heavily about the stage in conscientiously airy masquerade\nand, since nothing is so terrible as elegance when she goes with a flat\nfoot, Herrick's eyes roved up and down the darkened house studying the\nfaces of Christina's confreres, there, and endeavoring to contrast them\nwith the faces of the public and the critics to whom, to-morrow, she\nmust entrust her fate.\nA burst of applause, recalling his attention to the stage, pointed out\nto him a real aristocrat. Among the full-calved males in pinks and\nblues, the entrance of a slender fellow in black satin, not very tall,\nwith an order on his breast and the shine of diamonds among his laces,\nhad created something the effect of the arrival of a high-spirited and\nthoroughbred racehorse among a drove of caparisoned elephants. Herrick,\nthe ingenuous outsider, supposed this actor the one patrician obtainable\nby the management; not knowing that it was his hit as the spy in\n\"Garibaldi's Advance\" which had opened to him the whole field of foreign\nvillains, and that he could never have been cast for a treacherous\nmarquis of Louis Quatorze this season if he had not succeeded as a\ntreacherous private of Garibaldi the season before.\nWith a quick, light gesture, which acknowledged and dismissed the\nwelcome of the audience, the newcomer crossed the stage and bowed deeply\nbefore his king. The king stood at no great distance from Herrick's box,\nand when the newcomer lifted his extraordinarily bright, dark eyes they\nrested full on Herrick's own. Then Herrick found himself looking into\nthe face of the man in the street who had questioned him about the\nmurder on the night of Ingham's death.\nHerrick had a strange sensation that for the thousandth part of an\ninstant the man's eyes went perfectly blind. But they never lost their\nsparkle, and his lips retained the fine light irony that made his quiet\nface one pale flash of mirth and malice. \"Who is that?\" Herrick asked\nMrs. Hope.\n\"Who? Oh--that's Will Denny.\"\nHerrick was startled by a hand on his sleeve, and a hoarse, boyish voice\nsaid in his ear, \"That's him!\" He knew the voice for Joe Patrick's.\n\"That's the man I took up in the elevator.\"\nCHAPTER IX\nPRESTO CHANGE: \"OUT OF THE NIGHT THAT COVERS ME!\"\nHerrick excused himself to Mrs. Hope and followed Joe Patrick out of the\nbox. \"But are you sure, Joe?\" he asked. \"Could you swear to it?\"\n\"Sure I could! Why couldn't I?\"\n\"And you couldn't tell the coroner that that man was as slim as a whip\nand as dark as an Indian, about middle height and over thirty, and of a\nvery nervous, wiry, high-strung build.\"\n\"Well, now I look at him close again I can see all that. But he didn't\nstrike me anyways particular.\"\nHerrick had an exasperated moment of wondering, if Joe considered Denny\ncommonplace, what was his idea of the salient and the vivid. Was the\nwhole of Joe's testimony as valueless as this? He stood now and watched\ntheir man with wonder. Had Denny recognized him? Had he seen Joe Patrick\nrooted upright there, behind his chair, with staring eyes? If so, after\nthat first flicker of blindness, not an eyelash betrayed him. He was\ntriumphantly at his ease; his part became a thing of swiftness and wit,\nwith the grace of flashing rapiers and of ruffling lace, so that from\nthe moment of his entrance the act quickened and began to glow; the man\nseemed to take the limp, stuffed play up in his hand, to breathe life in\nit, to set it afire, to give it wings. And all this so quietly, with\nmerely a light, firm motion, an eloquent tone, a live glance! He had, as\nHerrick only too well remembered, a singularly winning voice, an\nutterance of extraordinary distinction, with a kind of fastidious edge\nto his words that seemed to cut them clear from all duller sounds. But\nHerrick recalled how, after the first pleasure of hearing him speak, he\nhad disliked a mocking lightness which seemed to blend, now, with the\nsomething slightly satanic of the wicked marquis whom Denny played. He\nremembered Shaw's advice, \"Look like a nonentity or you will get cast\nfor villains!\" Truly, they didn't cast men like that for heroes! And in\nthe light of that sinister flash, Herrick was aware of vengeance rising\nin him. He rejoiced to be hot on the trail, and when he and Joe parted\nit was with the understanding that he was to allay suspicion by\nreturning to the box and Joe was to telephone the police. Rather to his\nsurprise the performance continued without interruption and he somehow\nmissed Joe as he came out.\nNow at the ungodly hour of one-thirty in the morning, Christina was\nexpected home. She was to take the midnight train from some Connecticut\ntown, and the thought of her approach began gradually to overcome, in\nHerrick's mind, the thought of justice. As he walked to meet her through\nthe beautiful warm, windless dark, he told himself, indeed, that he had\na great piece of news for her and took counsel of her how he should\ncarry it to Kane.\nBut when, under the night lights of the station, he saw how she was\nready to drop with fatigue, he simply changed his mind. He had\nsufficiently imbibed the tone of her colleagues to feel that nothing was\nso necessary as that she shouldn't be upset. It was bad enough that\nto-morrow she must be told of Nancy's message and add her identification\nof that curly hair; let her sleep to-night.\nIn the cab she drooped against him with a simplicity of exhaustion that\nwas full, too, of content. \"I was afraid I should never get you back!\"\nshe said, and again, \"I thought, all the evening, how you had\nbeen--hurt; and how all that theaterful of women could see that you\nwere safe--and I couldn't! Do you know how I comforted myself?\" And she\nbegan to murmur into his shoulder a little scrap of song--\n    \"Careless and proud,\n    That is their part of him--\n    But the deep heart of him\n    Hid from the crowd!\"\n\"You know where my heart was!\" he said. He had forgotten how large a\npart of it had been excited by the apparition of Denny.\nStill humming, she drew back a little and let her look shine up to his.\n    \"Simple and frank,\n    Traitors be wise of him!\n    Are not the eyes of him\n    Pledge of his rank?\"\n\"Christina!\" he said, humbly. \"Don't!\"\n\"You don't like it!\" she softly jeered. And though when he put her into\nher mother's arms her little smile was so pitiful that it frightened\nhim, and he would have given anything that to-morrow night were past,\nyet she turned on the stairway and cast him down, with a teasing\nfondness, a final verse.\n    \"Vigor and tan!\n    Look at the strength of him!\n    Oh, the good length of him!\n    There is my man!\"\n\"Christina!\" cried Mrs. Hope, scandalized. And Christina, with a\nhysterical and weary laugh, dragged herself upstairs.\nHerrick went forth into the street bathed in the sense of her love and\nwith a soul that trembled at her sweetness. He was himself very\nrestless, and, sniffing the fresh dark, he dismissed the cab. He had\nbegun to be really in dread lest Christina should break down; after he\nhad crossed the street he turned, with anxious lingering, to look up at\nher window, and he saw the light spring forth behind it as he looked. It\nwas so hard to leave the sense of her nearness that Herrick, like a boy,\nstood still and there rose in his breast a tenderness that seemed to\nturn his heart to water. He had no desire, ever again, on any blind, to\nsee a woman's shadow. Yet he hoped that she might come to the window to\npull this blind down; in case some one else did so for her, he stepped\nbackward into a little area-way in the shadow of a tall stoop. But she\ndid not come. The hall light went out, and then hers. He gave up, and\njust then the front door opened and Christina, not having so much as\nremoved her hat, appeared upon the threshold. He remained quite still\nwith astonishment; and the girl, after glancing cautiously up and down\nthe street, descended the steps and set off eastward at a brisk pace.\nWhen she turned the corner into Central Park West, the explanation was\nclear to him. In some way or another, she had got into communication\nwith the blackmailers and made a rendezvous which she was determined\nthis time to keep alone. For the first time, Herrick felt angry with\nher. He had a sense of having been trifled with and he was really\nfrightened; now, indeed, he cursed himself for continuing to go unarmed.\nHe knew that it would be worse than useless to reason with her, and the\ninstant she was out of sight, he merely followed. Gaining the avenue, he\nlooked up the long line of the Park without seeing her. Ah! This time\nshe was going south. He went as far as he dared on the other side of the\nstreet but he knew her ears were quick and, reaching the Park side he\nvaulted the wall, and gained the shelter of the trees.\nHe had scarcely done so when Christina turned sharply round; and she\ncontinued to take this precaution every little while, but he could see\nthat it was a mere formality. She no longer thought herself followed and\nnever glanced among the trees; his steps were inaudible on the soft\nturf. At the Seventy-sixth Street entrance she turned into the park;\npausing, wearily, she took off her hat and pushed up her hair with the\nbacks of her hands. She looked as if she were likely to drop; but then\nshe set off rapidly again, and Herrick prayed they would meet a\npoliceman. But no member of the law put in an appearance, and presently\nHerrick smelled water, and knew that they were near the border of the\nbig lake. Under the white electric light Christina stopped and looked at\nher watch; she frowned as if her heart would break; and then, in a few\nsteps, she paused on the threshold of a little summer-house that stood\nwith the lake lapping its outer edge. The doorway was faintly lighted\nfrom an electric light outside, and Christina glanced expectantly\nwithin. But there was no one there. She uttered a little moan of\ndisappointment and entering dropped onto the bench beside the lake; she\nrested her elbow on the latticework and Herrick could see her dear,\noutrageous, uncovered head mistily outlined against the water.\nNever in his life had he so little known what to do. A wrong step now\nmight precipitate untold disaster. His instinct was merely to remain\nthere, like a watchdog, and never take his eyes off her till the time\ncame for him to spring. But reason insisted that on the drive, less than\na block away, there must be policemen, and that the quicker he sought\none the better. He had not even yesterday's stick, his right arm was now\nuseless, and in a struggle by the water the odds against him were\ndoubled. Moreover, he had no reason to think that the blackmailers\nintended Christina any violence. They had come to her yesterday in order\nto deliver a message. This failing, they had allowed her to depart\nunmolested and, on her side, her only thought was to do as they asked.\nHe perceived that the meeting would at least open with a parley; if he\ncould return with reinforcements in time to prevent foul play or to\neffect a capture! But he simply could not bear to try it! And then the\nnearness of the roadlights and the sense of his own extreme helplessness\noverbore his instinct, and kicking off his shoes, he sped noiselessly\nover grassy slopes. It seemed to him his feet were leaden; his heart\ntugged at him to be back; his senses strained backward for a sound and\nwhen he burst out on the drive he could have cursed the officer he saw\nfor being fifty feet away. It did not occur to him until afterwards that\nif his likeness had not been in every paper in New York he might himself\nhave been immediately arrested. But the policeman listened with interest\nto his story and then ambled out with the circumstance that the\nsummer-house was not on his beat, but that Herrick would find another\nofficer near such and such a place! With the blackness of death in his\nheart, Herrick sped back as he had come, and then, hearing nothing,\nslackened speed. There, still, thank God, was that dim outline of an\nuncovered head against the lake! But so motionless that Herrick was\nstabbed by one of those quick, insensate pangs of nightmare. Suppose\nthey had killed her and set her there, like that! He controlled himself;\nbut he was determined, now, at all hazards to get her away and stepping\ninto the path before the door, \"Christina!\" he said.\nThe figure rose, and as it did so, he saw that it was not Christina at\nall, but a man. A slight man, not over tall, who, as he stepped forward\ntoward the light, turned upon Herrick the pale, dark, restless face of\nthe actor, Will Denny.\nCHAPTER X\nMIDNIGHT IN THE PARK; \"JE SUIS AUSSI SANS D\u00c9SIR--\"\nThe men were equally startled; a very slight quiver passed over Denny's\nface, but he said nothing. \"Good God!\" Herrick cried, \"what are you\ndoing here?\"\n\"The same to you,\" Denny replied.\n\"But Christina! Where's Miss Hope?\"\n\"Christina! Has she been here?\"\nHerrick pushed roughly past him. There was no sign of the girl, and in a\ncold apprehension, Herrick stared out over the lake. Denny's voice at\nhis elbow said, \"She doesn't seem to float! Why not see if I've thrown\nher under the bench?\"\n\"Why not?\" Herrick savagely replied.\nThe other smiled faintly. \"Christina? It wouldn't be such an easy job!\"\nShe wasn't under the bench and Herrick hurried back into the path.\n\"Go and look for her, if you like. I'll wait here.\" He called in a\nsibilant whisper after Herrick, \"You'll have to hurry. Don't yell.\"\nNo hurry availed, but as Herrick burst out of the Park he caught a\nglimpse of her back as she passed into a moving trolley car bound for\nhome. Only love's baser humors and blacker claims were left in him. He\nknew that his dignity lay anywhere but in that little arbor, yet he\ndeliberately retraced his steps. Again he found Denny sitting there, and\nthis time the actor did not rise. But he must have been walking about\nin Herrick's absence for he made a slight motion to a dark blot on the\nbench near him. He said, \"Are those your shoes?\"\nHerrick sat down angrily and put them on, more and more exasperated even\nby the dim shape of a cigar in Denny's fingers; although he was a\nseething volcano of accusation he could not think of anything to say and\nbesides, what with emotion and with haste, he was rather breathless. So\nthat at last it was Denny who broke the silence with, \"Well, now that\nyou are here, have you got a match?--Thank you!\" But he did not light\nit. He seemed to forget all about it as he sat there silent again in the\ndarkness waiting for Herrick to speak.\nWhen Herrick struggled with himself and would not, Denny at length\nbegan. \"I won't pretend to deny that she came here to find me. I only\ndeny that she did find me. I missed her, poor child. Doesn't that\ncontent you?\"\nAnd Herrick asked him in the strangling voice of hate, \"Do you usually\nhave ladies meet you here? At this hour?\"\n\"No. That's what disturbs me. It must have been something very urgent.\nShe couldn't trust the telephone and she couldn't wait till morning. She\nknows that now I almost never sleep, and that I can't bear to be awake\nwith walls around me; if I'm not careful I shall have walls around me\nclose enough. I come here, as Chris remembered, because--I must be\nsomewhere. So she chanced it. She didn't find me. I came just too late.\"\nHerrick rose. He felt as if he were stifling. \"Do you pretend to tell\nme, then, that you don't know why she came?\"\n\"No, I'd better not pretend that. I suppose I know why she came.\" He\nadded, very low, in his clear voice, \"I suppose she came to warn me.\"\n\"Warn you? Of what?\"\n\"Come, do I need to tell you that? Her mother must have told her that\nyou recognized me to-night and that the elevator boy recognized me, too,\nand told you.\"\n\"You saw all that?\"\n\"I saw all that.\"\n\"And did nothing?\"\n\"What could I do?\"\n\"You've had time, since the performance, to get away!\"\n\"Where to?\" asked Denny.\nIf it was the simplicity of despair it affected the distraught and\nbaffled Herrick like the simplicity of some subtle and fiendish triumph.\nNot for nothing had he observed the calm of the French marquis. Taking a\nviolent hold on himself, \"Do you realize--\" he demanded, \"what you're\nadmitting?\"\n\"The mark of Cain?\" said the other, with his faint smile. \"Oh, yes!\"\nHerrick incredulously demanded, \"You don't deny it?\"\n\"Deny it? Why, yes, I deny it. I'm not looking for trouble and I deny it\nabsolutely. But what then? Will anybody believe me? Between friends, do\nyou believe me? Well--what's the use?\"\n\"You've no proofs? No defense?\"\n\"None whatever!--And I've been playing villains here for four years! My\ndear fellow, don't blush! I'm complimented to find that you, too, are\nhit by that impression. And I shan't tell Christina!\"\n\"If I could see by what damned theatrical trick you go about admitting\nall this!\"\nDenny seemed to take no offense. \"I'm indifferent to who knows it. I'm\ntired out.\"\nHerrick flounced impatiently and, \"But season your solicitude awhile,\"\nthe other added. \"Remember that even to you I don't admit my--what's the\nphrase? My guilt! And legally I shall never admit it.\"\n\"You merely 'among friends' allow its inference?\"\n\"If you like.\"\n\"You don't seem very clear in your own mind!\"\n\"Clear?\" The brilliance of his eyes searched Herrick's face with a\nsingular, quick, sidelong glance for which he did not turn his head.\nThen the glance drooped heavily to earth and Herrick could just hear him\nadd, in a voice that fell like a stone, \"No--pit-murk!\" He sat there\nwith his elbows on his knees and seemed to stare at the loose droop of\nhis clasped hands. He said, \"I shall never play Hamlet. But at least I\nam like him in one thing; I do not hold my life at a pin's fee.\"\n\"Good God!\" Herrick burst forth. \"Do you think it's you I care about?\"\nThe other man replied softly into the darkness, \"You mean, I've\nimplicated Christina?\"\n\"You've admitted that she knows--and shields you!\"\n\"So she does, poor girl! But don't think I shall put either Chris or me\nto the horrors of a trial. I seem to have given some proof that I carry\na revolver. And I haven't the least fear of being taken alive.\"\n\"I care nothing about you!\" Herrick repeated. \"What I want to understand\nis why Miss Hope should shield you--if she is shielding you. Why she\nshould come here, in the middle of the night, to warn you? Whoever shot\nIngham was mixed up with everything that's rotten--with blackmail--with\nthe disappearance of that girl--\"\n\"O!\" Denny had perceptibly winced. But then he said, \"I don't confess to\nall the crimes in the decalogue! For instance, Mr. Herrick, I am\nperfectly guiltless of those rude--ah--ornamentations on your own brow.\"\nHe laughed outright. \"How could I face Chris?\" he said.\nHerrick jumped at him with an oath and bore him, by pure force of\nweight, back against the lattice. His hand was on Denny's throat and it\nwas a moment before Denny could tear it away. When he had done so, he\nsaid nothing; he continued to sit there as if nothing had happened; and\nHerrick, a little ashamed, sulked at him, \"Don't speak of her like that,\nthen!\" He walked to the door of the arbor and back, facing Denny and\ncontrolling himself, with his hands in his pocket. \"There's been enough\nof this,\" he said, through his teeth. \"I've got to know now--what's she\nto do with you? What's it to her, if you're caught? How, in the first\nplace, did she ever come to know such a secret? Why should you confide\nit to _her_?\"\nHe was aware of Denny lifting his eyes and looking at him steadily\nthrough the half-dark. \"I'll tell you why, if you'll sit down. I've done\na hard night's work and, at any rate, I don't care to shout.\"\nHerrick dropped down beside him and Denny struck his match. \"Smoke?\" he\nqueried. Herrick shook his head and again, by the light of the little\nflame, Denny stared gravely into his set and haggard face. \"Is it so\nmuch as that to you?\" he said. \"Well, then, I never told Christina.\nNothing--whether I was innocent or guilty. I didn't need to. There was\na--friend of hers in the room when it was done. But here's my connection\nwith the thing. You don't know, I suppose, that two months ago, I\nexpected to marry Nancy Cornish?\"\n\"I might have known it!\" Herrick said.\n\"I don't see why! Unless you've observed that the sweetest women are\nborn with a natural kindness for cads. I was perfectly sure that she\nloved me. I used to meet her here\"--Herrick started--\"and take her out\nin a boat and all that, as if I were a boy,--she was _so_ young! Well,\nthen I displeased her and she sent me to the right about. It was hard. I\ndon't know if you're too happy and too virtuous to see that when another\nwoman was good to me, then, I fell in what it pleases us to call love\nwith her. It came and passed, like fever. No matter. She belonged\nlegally, at that time, to another man, but she swore to me she would get\nfree and marry me--yes, I believed she loved me, too, if you can swallow\nthat! You see, there were no limits to my complacency! There were\ncertain things I couldn't help but know, and she accounted for them all,\nto me, by a dreadful tale of ill-usage when she was just growing up--a\nman of the world, older than she, her first love, promise of marriage,\ndesertion, the horrors after it; how she had been forced to accept the\nfirst chance of respectability--but now--for love of me--All the old\nstory! She never would tell me that man's name. She pretended to hate\nhim and fear him, and I lashed myself into such a rage against him, and\nthe insults with which she said he was following her again, that I\nhardly saw the streets I walked through. The afternoon before the\nshooting Nancy called me up; she said she had something to tell me, and\nasked me to meet her at the old place in the Park at five o'clock. It\nwas cruel hard, because now I'd doubly lost her. I was sick of myself\nand the whole world. It was touch and go with me. I sat here, waiting,\nwaiting--if she'd brought her goodness, her freshness, her gentleness\neven within hailing distance of me, then, they might have shed a little\nsanity on me as she passed.\"\n\"And Christina?\" Herrick persisted.\n\"Well--this other woman was Christina's friend. That day that Nancy\ndidn't come I had a dress rehearsal, and Christina and this other woman\ndined with me, just before that. She said, then, for the first time that\nIngham was the man she had told me of. She said she told me now because\nit was he who had sent Nancy away; that Nancy was afraid of me because\nhe and she--I went straight for him after rehearsal. They didn't expect\nme. And up there, in that room with Ingham, I found that other woman.\nWould anybody believe in my innocence after that? Ought I to be\ninnocent? 'Deny it?' No, on the whole, I'd better not deny it!' That's\nall!\"\nThey were both silent. Then through his groping thoughts Herrick could\nhear Denny half-humming a catch of song whose words were instantly\nfamiliar.\n    \"Je suis aussi sans d\u00e9sir\n    Autre que d'en bien finir--\n    Sans regret, sans repentir,\n    Sans espoir ni crainte--\"\n\"Without regret, without repentance--Repentance? Surely! But--without\nregret? He asked a good deal, that lad! You ought to like my little\nsong--it was taught me by the erudite Christina.\"\n\"Where's that woman, now?\"\n\"Ah!\" said Denny, \"that's her secret.\"\n\"And Christina?\" said Herrick, again.\n\"Christina and I are very old chums; aside from the Deutches I am the\noldest friend she has. It was I got Wheeler to go West and see her. I\nwas in the first company she ever joined, when she was just a tall, slim\nkid--sixteen, I think--and I was twenty-six. We've worked together, and\nwon together and--gone without together. I had been at it for eight\nyears when she first went on; and I taught her all I knew; when I got\ninto the moving pictures for a summer I worked her in--\"\nHerrick started. \"The best friend Christina ever had!\" he exclaimed.\n\"Oh!\" said the other. \"Thank you!\" Herrick was aware of his quaint\nsmile. \"Yes, I suppose I might be called that!\"\n\"I was told--I was led to believe you were an older man.\"\n\"Ah, that's one of Christina's sweetest traits--she colors things so\nprettily! She can't help it! But you see, now, don't you, that she'd\nnever give me away? Chris would shield her friends as long as she had\nbreath for a lie. She's pretended a quarrel with me all these weeks,\nbecause, thinking the police were following her, she didn't want them to\nfind me. She's kept you from knowing people who might speak of me. She's\nhad but the one thought since the beginning; and that was to save my\nlife. But she's in love with you, and she can't lie to you any\nlonger--you'll see. Besides, she thinks she can make you our accomplice;\nthat because you're a friend of hers, you're a friend of mine. She has\nstill her innocences, you see, and, in the drama, so many lovers behave\nso handsomely.\" The ring had died out of his voice; but he went on, with\na kind of rueful amusement, spurring himself to be persuasive, \"Come,\nnow, stop thinking of what would influence you, and try to think of what\nwould influence Chris! Do you think she'd like to see Wheeler hanged?\"\n\"Wheeler!\"\n\"Well, allow me to put forward that Chris thinks me quite as good an\nactor as Wheeler, with the double endearment of not being so well\nappreciated by outsiders!\" He leaned forward with an intent flash. \"If\nyou think she wouldn't stand by me, you don't know her!\"\n\"And is that the reason,\" asked Herrick, \"why you left her in the\nlurch?\" He was aware of behaving like a quarrelsome old woman, now that\nhe had a probable murderer on his hands and didn't quite know what to do\nwith him. The man must feel singularly safe. There was something at once\nannoying and disarming in his passiveness, and Herrick drove home this\nquestion with a voice as hard as a blow. \"Was it because you could play\non the loyalty and courage of a romantic girl, that, when you were\nlikely to be suspected, you ran away and left her to bear the public\naccusation?\"\nDenny answered, with that gentleness which Herrick found offensive, \"I\ndidn't run far.\"\n\"You've been filling her, too, I suppose, with this cock and bull\nmelodrama of suicide if you're arrested?\"\nHe had touched a live nerve. \"Would it be less melodramatic to crave\nthat other exit--have my head shaved so that the apparatus could be\nfitted on--let them take half an hour strapping me into an electric\nchair! Do you think that would be soothing to her? No, thank you! Or do\nyou want me to hide and run, to twist and duck and turn and be caught in\nthe end?--I can't help your calling me a coward,\" Denny said, \"and I\ndare say I am a coward. A jump over the edge I could manage well enough.\nBut 'to sit in solemn silence, in a dark, dank dock, awaiting the\nsensation of a short, sharp shock--'\" He seemed to rein in his voice in\nthe darkness. \"If I were even sure of that! But to be shut up for life,\nfor twenty years, death every minute of them! To be starved and\ndegraded, pawed over and mishandled by bullies--\" He shuddered with a\nviolence that seemed to snap his breath; even his eyebrows gave a\nconvulsive twitch, as if he felt something crawling over his face. And,\nrising, he went across to the entrance of the arbor and stood leaning in\nthe doorway, looking out.\nHerrick did not want him to get away and at the same time he did not\nwant to bring about any crisis until he had seen Christina. He thought\nDenny's explanation of her attitude only too probable. \"I've known the\ndearest fellows in the world--the cleverest, the gamest, the most\ncharming. But they were all like poor Christina--fidgety things, nervous\nand on edge.\" Was she thinking of Denny then? \"Oblige me by staying\nwhere you are!\" he said to Denny's back. Denny turned the grim delicacy\nof his pale face to smile at him and the smile maddened Herrick. He went\non, \"You must see yourself I can't let you go! Will you come to my\nrooms for to-night, and in the morning Miss Hope can tell me if this\nstory's true!\"\nDenny walked slowly out and stood smoking in the center of the pathway,\nunder the tall electric light. He was far from a happy-looking man, and\nyet he looked as if he were going to laugh. \"And what then?\" he asked.\n\"Then I shall know if this isn't all a bid for sympathy. Whether there's\nreally any other woman beside this Nancy Cornish--\"\nDenny wheeled suddenly round on him.\n\"Or whether you don't know more of her--\"\n\"Damn you!\" Denny said. \"You fool,--\" He had come close to Herrick and\nthen remembering the limp hang of Herrick's arm, he paused. And as he\npaused a man stepped out from among the trees and touched him on the\nshoulder.\nHe wheeled round; there were two men behind him. They were in plain\nclothes but the man who had touched Denny showed a shield. \"Come along!\nYou're wanted at headquarters.\"\nDenny stood quiet, breathing a little rapidly. \"Let me see your\nwarrant,\" he said, and he took two steps backward to get it under the\nlight. So that before any one could stop him, he had whipped out a\nrevolver, put the end of the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.\nThere was a little click before the man could jump on him and then\nanother; and then Herrick heard the steel cuffs snap over his wrists.\nThe man with the shield drew back, and grinning, shook into his palm\nwhat were not even blank cartridges but only careful imitations. \"The\nnext time you rely on a gun,\" he said, \"you want to look out for that\nvalet of yours!\"\nDenny was standing with his heavy hair shaken by the struggle about his\neyes; one of the men obligingly pushed it back with the edge of Denny's\nstraw hat which he picked up and put on Denny's head. \"Come! Get a gait\non us,\" said the man with the star.\nDenny said, aloud, \"You overheard those last remarks for which this\ngentleman raised his voice?\"\n\"Rather!\" the three grinned.\n\"Ah, well, then there is certainly no more to be said.\" He nodded\nagreeably to Herrick, and then between his captors, walked lightly and\nquickly off, into the darkness.\nCHAPTER XI\nKEEPING CHRISTINA OUT OF IT\nDaylight was in the streets when Herrick got to bed, sure he should not\nclose his eyes; then he was wakened only by the cries of the newsboys\nunderneath his windows, calling, as if it had been an extra--\"Ingham\nMurderer Arrested! Murderer Arrested! Popular Actor Arrested in the\nIngham Murder!\"\nHerrick tumbled into his clothes and bought a paper on his way to a very\nlate breakfast at the Pilgrims', where he had a card. In the account of\nthe arrest he himself figured as something between a police decoy and an\naccomplice in crime, but Christina's midnight sally remained unknown and\nhe breathed freer. Now that she was to be kept out of it, he could but\nadmire the quiet good sense with which the police had gone about their\nbusiness. While those more closely concerned had dashed and bewildered\nthemselves against their own points of view like blind, flying beetles,\nthe police had simply made haste to ascertain if Nancy Cornish had a\nlover. She had been engaged to Denny; a recent coolness between them had\nbeen common gossip; and, since Nancy's disappearance, their common\nfriend, Christina Hope, had kept aloof from Denny, as though embracing\nher friend's quarrel or suspecting her friend's sweetheart. It now\ntranspired for the first time that the police had dug further into that\nevidence of Mrs. Willing's which Ten Euyck's eagerness to turn it\nagainst Christina had left undeveloped. Mrs. Willing had heard a man's\nvoice which she did not think to be Ingham's, call out loudly and very\nclearly, \"Ask--\" somebody or something the name of which was unfamiliar\nto her, and which she had forgotten until later events had violently\nrecalled it--\"Ask Nancy Cornish.\"\nHerrick did not read any further till he was seated and had given his\norder to a friendly waiter. There were some men at a table near him; it\nseemed to him that everybody in the room was talking of the arrest and\nas a matter of fact most of them were talking of it. He had an uneasy\ndesire to know how Christina appeared in her own world's version. But\nshe remained there the friend of Denny, and of the girl over whom Ingham\nand Denny must have quarreled. When he looked at the paper again, he\nread that on the night in question by no less a person than Theodore\nBird, Denny had been seen to enter Ingham's apartment!\nYes, the tremulous Theodore, despite his wife's particular instructions\nthat he should keep out of it, had called at headquarters and delivered\nup the fact that at one o'clock or thereabouts, when he was just on the\npoint of retiring, he had heard what sounded like a ring at his\ndoor-bell. But he had opened the door only a crack because the wires\nbetween his apartment and Ingham's were apt to get crossed, and, indeed,\nthis was what had happened in the present case. He had seen a man\nstanding there, at Ingham's door; and Theodore, safe behind his crack,\nhis constitution being not entirely devoid of rubber, had taken a good\nlook; had seen Ingham fling wide his door, and the stranger enter. On\nbeing asked if he could identify this stranger, he said he was certain\nof it. Confronted with photographs of a dozen men he had unhesitatingly\nselected Denny's.\nThe police had delayed Denny's arrest in the hope of finding him in\ncorrespondence with Nancy Cornish. Sure of their man, they had given him\nrope to hang himself. But Joe Patrick's recognition, which, at any\nmoment, he might reveal to the suspected man, had forced their hand.\nThey did not add that until yesterday they had never connected Denny or\nNancy with the blackmailing letters, but Herrick now added it for them;\nand he saw how Nancy's message, with its suggestion of the girl's peril,\nhad forced it, too.\nHe deduced that, by the summer-house, they had not been able to overhear\nanything until Denny had gone to the doorway and Herrick had raised his\nvoice. He read, finally, how, while Denny was changing for the street,\nafter the performance, his dresser had managed to unload and reload the\nrevolver. The number of the cartridge used in it was the same as that of\nthe bullet taken from Ingham's body.\nUp to the last line of the article Herrick kept a hope that Denny had\ngiven some clue of Nancy's whereabouts but the police were obliged to\nadmit that the young man had proved a mighty tough customer. \"He has\nundergone six hours of as stiff an examination as Inspector Corrigan has\never put a prisoner through and nothing whatever save the barest denial\nhas been got out of him. However, the Inspector is confident that in the\nnear future--\" There was something in this last statement which made\nHerrick slightly sick. He hoped Christina had not seen it.\nHe understood well enough the weakness and blankness of Denny's account\nof himself. The young man denied the murder much more definitely than he\nhad troubled himself to deny it to Herrick, but with the same listless\nlack of hope and even of conviction. He made no secret of his having\ngone to Ingham's room with the intention of shooting him, though he\nasserted that Ingham had proved false the story which had occasioned\ntheir quarrel and he had gone away again--that was all. Expect to be\nbelieved? Of course he didn't expect to be believed! On the reason of\ntheir quarrel he remained mute. To all further questions, such as what\nother visitors Ingham had that night, he opposed the blankest,\nsmoothest ignorance. And Herrick, filling out the blanks, was still\nimpatient of the reticence which left it possible for any woman of the\nmen's mutual acquaintance to be taken for the woman of the shadow. No\neffort for the good name of another woman justified to him the suspicion\nand the suffering that Christina had already been allowed to endure.\nDenny's guilt he did not and he could not doubt, but he might have\nrespected a guilt which, after so strong a provocation, had instantly\ngiven itself up. Such an avowal might have kept further silence with the\nhighest dignity and Herrick wondered why an actor, of all people, could\nnot see that that would have been even the popular course. Then he heard\nanother actor, a much handsomer and more stalwart person, remark, \"I\nalways said, poor chap, that he hadn't the physique for a hero!\"\n\"Well,\" agreed a manager, solemnly, after every possible version of the\naffair had been discussed, \"what I've always said is--Strung on wires!\nHe's the best in his own line, I don't deny it! You could have your star\nand your juvenile man tearing each other to pieces in the middle of the\nstage and he'd be down in a corner, with an eye on a crack, and\neverybody'd be looking at him! But I've always said, and I say it\nagain--Strung on wires!\" The manager seemed to think that this remark\nmet the occasion fully at every point.\nAnd as the men became more and more excited in their talk, Herrick\ndiscovered that the very heart of their excitement was their sympathy\nfor Denny's own manager who would have to replace him by to-morrow\nnight. Heaped all around lay this morning's papers, every one of them\nextolling Denny's performance of the night before, and little guessing\nwhat the next editions would bring forth; these fine notices made the\nmanagement's position all the more difficult and the talkers all seemed\nto feel that it was very hard, after so expensive a production, that\nDenny should get himself arrested for murder at such a moment.\nSo that between this extremely business-like sympathy which suited\nHerrick to perfection and his own desire that Christina should be kept\nout of it, he perceived that about the last person for whom any one was\nexcited was Denny himself. He was congratulating himself that Mrs. Hope\nwas a person to keep distressing newspapers out of sight as long as\npossible and that her daughter was sure to rise late on the morning of\nthe night of nights when a boy brought him a 'phone message. \"You're\nplease to go and ask to see Mr. Denny at Inspector Corrigan's office!\"\nWith somewhat restive promptitude Herrick obeyed. As he was shown into\nthe office the first person his eye lighted upon was Christina.\nCHAPTER XII\nAULD ACQUAINTANCE: WHAT CHRISTINA SAW\nThe only professional appearance which Wheeler had hitherto permitted\nChristina to make in New York had been when she recited at a benefit\nearly in the preceding spring. The benefit was for the families of some\npolicemen who had perished valiantly in the public service and when\nChristina had enlisted the Ingham influence in the cause Wheeler had\nmade the whole affair appear of her contriving. To procure herself an\ninterview with Denny in the Inspector's office before the formalities of\nthe Tombs should close about him she had not scrupled to make use of\nthis circumstance, and whether because it combined with her having\nbusiness there, in the identification of Nancy's message, or because the\nInspector believed she could really influence Denny to talk, as she said\nshe could, or because he wanted to watch them together, or, after all,\nbecause she was one of those who get what she desired, there she was.\nHerrick was no longer at a loss to account for a sort of tickled\nadmiration which admitted him as one at least near the rose. She had\nevidently been treated with the consideration due the chief mourner,\nwhatever one may think of the corpse; the Inspector, over by the window,\nhad made himself inconspicuous and for a moment Herrick saw only\nChristina--a Christina wholly baffled and at a loss! She had, indeed,\nthat air of having spent her life in the office which was her\ndistinguishing characteristic in any atmosphere. Her hat was, as usual,\nanywhere but on her head; she had stripped off her gloves and tossed\nthem into it. But she now sat in an attitude of despairing quiet which\nshe broke on Herrick's entrance only to catch his arm with one hand;\nturning her face in upon his sleeve, \"Bryce,\" she moaned, \"I brought him\nto this!\"\nThen he saw that Denny was standing looking through the barred window\nwith his back to them. When he turned Herrick had to struggle against a\ntouch of sympathy for the change in his appearance. Although he had\nnever seen Denny in the daylight before, there was no denying that he\nwas only the worn ghost of what he had been last night. His slenderness\nhad the broken droop of physical and emotional exhaustion; beneath the\nintense black of his hair, his face was the color of ashes and his\nquick, brilliant eyes looked lifeless and burned out. Nevertheless,\nHerrick preferred the daytime version. The sort of evil phosphorescence\nof the French marquis which had continued to dazzle his eyes in the\ndarkness and the sharp electric light, had wholly vanished; Denny was\nnot playing a villain now--and in the blue serge suit of ordinary life,\nthere was something almost boyish in him.\n\"He won't help me, Bryce,\" Christina said. \"He won't tell me anything,\nhe won't say anything. He won't even tell me what lawyer he wants.\"\nDenny stood with his eyes fixed on his visitors but in an abstraction\nwhich seemed to take no note of them; and Christina went on to Herrick,\nas to a more sympathetic audience. \"I tell him he shall have the best\nlawyers in the world! He shan't be tormented any longer; he shall have\nthe law to look out for him! He'll be all right, won't he, Bryce, won't\nhe? If he'll only help himself! If he'll only say something!\" Her voice\nrose desperately and broke. \"Tell him you're simply _for_ him, as I\nam--that's what I brought you here for! Tell him we're with him, both of\nus, all the world to nothing, and that we urge him to anything he can\nsay or do to help himself! And that it will never make any difference\nto--either of us!\" When Herrick had made out to say that Christina's\nfriends were his friends, she went up to Denny and took him by the\nshoulders. \"Don't you understand? I want to speak not only for myself,\nbut for all those dear to me!\"\nDenny broke into a nervous laugh, but he said nothing.\nHerrick guessed that his denial of his guilt had taken Christina wholly\nby surprise; that she had relied greatly on the story of his provocation\nand that now she did not know what to do. That it is not seemly for\nyoung ladies to display such extreme emotion over gentlemen to whom they\nare not related and who have had the misfortune to be imprisoned for\nmurder did not cross her mind. She was now reduced to a sort of\nhysterical practicality in which, for lack of the treacherous valet, she\nenlisted Herrick to discuss with a surprised Inspector what clothes and\nfurnishings of Denny's she would be allowed to have packed up and sent\nto the Tombs--\"What ought I to do to make them like me there? Oh, yes,\nBryce, it makes a difference everywhere! I mustn't wear a veil; and I\nmust get them plenty of passes. It's a pity we can't pretend to be\nengaged--it would interest every one so!--How about money, Will?\"\n\"I've plenty, thanks.\"\n\"Most ladies don't think beyond flowers!\" contrasted the Inspector, in\namused admiration.\nExasperated beyond endurance, Herrick heard himself launch the sickly\npleasantry, \"Any use for flowers, Mr. Denny?\"\n\"Not before the funeral,\" Denny said.\nShe shook him a little in her eagerness. \"Books. And tobacco. And things\nto drink. And the best food. And magazines. And all the newspapers.\"\nChristina clung to the items like a child trying to comfort itself.\n\"Or--perhaps--not the newspapers--\"\nDenny flung restlessly out of her hands. \"Oh, yes,\" he said, \"the\nnewspapers, please! Let me at least know how I am admired.\" He went back\nto staring out of the window; he seemed so little interested in his\nvisitors that it was as though he had left them alone.\nChristina stood looking at him with an infinite pity. She was not crying\nbut her magnificent eyes swam in a sort of luminous ether and Herrick\nhad never seen her so girlishly helpless.--\"Knowing me brought him to\nthis!\"\n\"Don't talk like a fool, Christina!\" Denny interrupted over his shoulder\nin his dead-and-alive voice.\n\"It's true. If you'd never known me, or if I'd never engaged myself to\nJim--\"\n\"Or if I'd never been born. It's just as true and just about as\nrelevant.\" His absent voice died in his throat. Then, of a sudden, he\nturned on her with a kind of restive suspicion. \"What did you say,\nawhile ago, about Kane's office?\"\n\"He's sent for me to come there to-morrow at two.\"\n\"Well, whatever you begin telling him, remember there's one thing I\ncan't put up with. And that's--Well, anything less than--the full dose.\"\nHe came up to the girl and took her hand in his cold fingers. \"And I\nimplore you, Christina, whatever you do, not to set such a motion on\nfoot, not to work up any sympathies nor bring forward any circumstances\nwhich might lead to what they call a merciful sentence. I couldn't stand\nit, Chris. It's the one thing I can't bear.--Oh, don't cry, don't cry!\nCome, my dear! Why, you surely don't want me to live--like this! With\nnothing to think of except--about Nancy! Well, then!\" But Christina was\nvisibly gasping for breath and, in a nature easily drawn together\nagainst a world harsh or indifferent, all the defenses against feeling\nbegan to give way. Some comfort must be found for those that insist upon\ncaring! But what comfort?--\"Ah now, Chris, dear old girl, such a brave\ngirl--it's all right. It's bound to be. Why, it's what I want, really.\nReally it is. You know that. You know I've been pretty well through, all\nthese weeks, isn't that so?--Oh, take her away, won't you?\" he cried to\nHerrick.\nBut Christina had by this time begun to cry, indeed, and now she threw\nher arms round Denny's neck, pulled down his face and kissed him. \"To\nleave you here!\" she wept.\nFor a moment he stood stiff in her embrace and then he gently returned\nher kiss; suddenly, with a sobbing breath, he caught her by the\nshoulders as a man clings to something tried and dear, which he knows he\nmay not often see again. \"Poor Chris!\" he said. \"All right, Chris!\"\nThe Inspector signed to the doorman who stepped up, pleasantly enough,\nto Denny, and at his touch Denny took the girl by her elbows and held\nher off.\n\"Come,\" he said, \"you've got a performance to-night!\"\n\"Oh, God help me!\" Christina cried. \"How am I to go through with it!\"\n\"Why,\" said Denny, quickly, \"do it for me! Don't let me wreck everything\nI touch!\" He looked at Herrick as though to say, \"Be good to her--she's\nonly a girl! You needn't fear she can help me!\" And aloud he continued,\n\"Look here, Christina, you mustn't fail. You're my friend, to pull me\nthrough and make friends for me, isn't that so? Well, then, you mustn't\nbe a nobody! If you're going to get me out of here, you've got to be a\ncelebrity, and move worlds. Well, you've got nothing but to-night to do\nit with. People like us, my dear, we've nothing but ourselves to fight\nwith, just ourselves! Come, get yourself together and pull it off\nto-night! For me!\" Over her head his miserable eyes besought Herrick to\ntake her away while she could believe this. But the girl, straightening\nup, held out her hand. Denny took it and \"All right,\" she said, \"I\nwill!\" As they stood thus, a door from within the building opened and\nthere was admitted no less a person than Cuyler Ten Euyck.\nChristina was standing between him and Denny. The eyes of the two men\nmet and slashed like whips. Herrick never needed to be told whose was\nthe hand that long ago, for Christina's sake, had struck Ten Euyck. Now\nDenny said in a quick undertone, \"Don't fret, old girl!\" And the guard\ntook him away.\nThe newcomer looked rather more frozen than usual; he was surprised and\nhe did not take kindly to surprises. \"It seems to be my fate to\ninterrupt! Mr. Herrick, don't you feel de trop?\"\nHe indulged himself in this discomforting question while his byplay of\nglances was really saying to Inspector Corrigan, \"What are all these\npeople doing here?\" and Corrigan's was replying, \"None of your\nbusiness!\" There was evidently no love lost between the types,\nparticularly when the first glance persisted, \"You got nothing out of\nhim?\" And the second was obliged to admit, \"Nothing!\"--\"But I implore\nyour toleration,\" Ten Euyck continued to Christina, \"I can perhaps do\nyou some service for the prisoner with Inspector Corrigan.\"\n\"The prisoner thanks you, as I do. But we have played in melodrama and\nwe are acquainted with the practice of poisoned bouquets. Inspector\nCorrigan and I are doing very well as we are!\"\n\"You are unkind and, believe me, you are unwise. I really wish to please\nyou--do you find that so unnatural?--and to justify myself in your\nregard. I want to begin by advising you not to let your friend's\nmelodramatic silence suggest to the public that he is going to hide\nbehind some story of a woman--\"\n\"He is very foolishly trying to keep a woman's name out of his story,\"\nChristina clearly and boldly declared.\n\"Nonsense! There is no such person!\"\n\"Why not?\"\n\"Because if there were he would be only too anxious to get her to come\nforward and tell the jury what she told him. It might get him off.\"\n\"How do you know what she told him?\"\n\"My dear lady, they all tell the same thing. It seems to those who are\ninterested--\"\n\"It seems nothing whatever but a chance to divert yourself with what you\nconsider his disgrace, because the idea of disgrace comes natural to\nyou--and, indeed, to you, in his presence, it should do so! But I rely\non Inspector Corrigan to limit your diversions. His favors are the\nfavors of a practical man; neither he nor I are fortune's darlings; we\nboth work for our living and we both understand one another.--I ought to\nsay that I am sorry to be rude. But I am not sorry, I rejoice. While\nthere was a suspicion for you to nose out I was afraid of you. But now I\nam free of you. If I were your poor mother,\" cried Christina, catching\nup her hat, \"I should pray you were ever in a disgrace that did you so\nmuch honor!\"\nThis outburst produced a silence: Inspector Corrigan amused and\ngratified, Inspector Ten Euyck struggling to appear amused and tolerant.\nIn fact, as Christina, still breathing fire, drew on her gloves, he\nbecame so very easy and happy as to hum a little tune. The words\ninstantly fitted themselves to it in Herrick's mind.\n    \"Je suis aussi sans d\u00e9sir\n    Autre que d'en bien finir--\"\n\"That's very charming!\" said Christina, in the tone of a person always\ngoverned by amiability. \"Where did you hear that?\"\n\"I don't really know. I'll trace it for you, if that will make my\npeace.\"\n\"Thank you, no.--Then you think,\" said Christina, sharply to both\nofficials, \"that it would do him great good if this woman, whether he's\ninnocent or guilty, should come forward of her own accord, and repeat\nthe story of her trouble as she repeated it to him?\"\n\"Undoubtedly!\"\n\"Well, then, she shall!\"\n\"Christina!\"\n\"Miss Hope!\"\nChristina was inexpressibly grave; she trembled a little, but her voice\nwas firm. \"What must be, must be!\" she said.\n\"But, Miss Hope, in person?\"\n\"In person, yes.\"\n\"But how, when, where?\"\n\"Very simply. On Friday. At the office of the District Attorney.\"\n\"And you can be certain of this?\"\n\"I can.\"\n\"You know who she is then?\"\n\"Most assuredly I do.\"\n\"Mr. Herrick's terrible shadow?\"\n\"Oh, she needn't bring her shadow, need she?\" Christina said.\nTen Euyck, who was just leaving the building, turned and looked at her;\nthere was always a covert, sullen admiration in his glances at her. \"I'm\nglad to see your spirits are improving. It's now you who are singing!\"\n\"'Auld acquaintance'--a sad enough song! But my Nancy's favorite! Don't\nbegrudge it me, Inspector Ten Euyck; it reminds all who love her of kind\nhours. '_Should_ auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?'\nGood-by, Mr. Ten Euyck.\" The outside door closed after him, and she said\nto the Inspector, \"There is something you wish me to identify?\"\n\"Here we are!\" said the Inspector. \"The experts say she wrote it!\"\nChristina looked at the four words a long time. The tears rose in her\neyes again. \"Yes. She did.\" She turned to Herrick. \"This was what I came\nto tell Will last night. My mother had just told me. But now that he's\nhelpless, he mustn't know!\"\n\"Well?\" said the Inspector, and he handed Christina the red lock of\ncurly hair.\nShe took it a little gingerly; studying it, as it lay in the palm of her\nhand. \"Of course, one could be deceived,\" she said, slowly. \"But it's\neither her hair or it's exactly like it.\" She lifted the curl and held\nit to the light. She untied the string which bound it, and thinning it\nout in her fingers spread it to a soft flame of color. \"Oh, surely, it's\nher hair--oh, poor little girl!\" she cried, and crossed by a sudden\nshiver, she let the hair fall from her hand. Swifter than the men about\nher she gathered it up again, and again stood studying the tumbled and\nscattered little mass. And then Herrick saw a terrible change come over\nher face--an immense amazement, mingled almost at once with passionate\nincredulity; slowly, the incredulity gave way to conviction and to fear;\nand then there swept upon Christina's face a blaze of such anger as\nHerrick had never seen in a woman's eyes.\n\"What is it?\" they all cried to her.\nShe opened her lips, as if to call it forth; but then she seemed to lose\nher breath, and, all at once, she slipped down in a dead faint at their\nfeet.\nCHAPTER XIII\nTHE NIGHT OF NIGHTS: THE PRINCESS IN THE TRANSFORMATION SCENE\nIf the police believed Christina when she revived enough to say that it\nhad seemed to her as if the hair were soaked in blood it was more than\nHerrick did. He only wondered that they let her go and if they were\nperhaps not spreading a net about her as they had spread one about\nDenny.\nBut thereafter she was very composed, allowed herself to be taken\nquietly home, and took a sedative so as to get some sleep. Herrick came\nin from an errand at four and found the house subdued to the ordinary\natmosphere--high-pressured enough in itself--of the house of an actress\nbefore a big first night.\nDown in the drawing-room Mrs. Hope said they must not talk about\nanything exciting or Christina would be sure to feel it. But she herself\nseemed to feel that the fact of her coming appearance in the Inghams'\nbox was about the only satisfactory piece of calmness in connection with\nher daughter's future. She congratulated herself anew upon the outcome\nof an old bout with Christina in which the girl had wished to go to\nsupper afterward with Wheeler rather than with the devoted Inghams, and\nin which Mrs. Hope had unwontedly conquered. She said now that she\nwished she had spoken to the Inghams about inviting Herrick; it could\nhave been arranged so easily.\nWhen Christina came in she allowed herself to be fondly questioned as to\nhow she felt and even to be petted and pitied. She was perhaps no more\nlike a person in a dream than she would have been before the same\noccasion if Ingham had never been shot; when she spoke at all she varied\nbetween the angelic and the snappish; and before very long she excused\nherself and went to her room. She was to have a light supper sent up and\nMrs. Hope adjured Herrick not to worry!\nHe duly sent his roses and his telegram of good wishes, but that she\ncould really interest herself in the play at such a time seemed horrible\nto him and he arrived at the theater still puzzled and rather resentful\nof the intrusion of this unreal issue.\nBut the first thrill of the lighted lobby, glowing and odorous with the\nstands of Christina's flowers; the whirr of arriving motors; the shining\nof jeweled and silken women with bare shoulders and softly pluming hair;\nthe expectant crowd; the managerial staff, in sacrificial evening dress,\nsmiling nervously, catching their lips with their teeth; the busy\nmovements of uniformed ushers; the clapping down of seats; the high,\nlight chatter, a little forced, a little false, sparkling against the\nmemory of those darker issues that clung about Christina's skirts; the\nwhole, thrilling, judging, waiting house; all this began to affect\nHerrick like strong drink on jaded nerves. From his seat in the third\nrow he observed Mrs. Hope and the Inghams take their places; the\nattention of the audience leaped like lightning on them. Just then one\nman came into the box opposite and drawing his chair into its very\nfront, sat down. It was Cuyler Ten Euyck.\nHerrick forgot him quickly enough. It was a real play, acted by real\nartists; the production held together by a master hand; and it continued\nto string up Herrick's nerves even while to himself he scarcely seemed\nto notice it. He had had no idea that it would be so terrible to live\nthrough the moment of Christina's entrance. He sat with his eyes on his\nprogram, suffering her nervousness, feeling under what an awful handicap\nshe was waiting there, the other side of that painted canvas, to lose\nor win. There was the wracking suspense of waiting for her, and then, as\nin a dream, the sound of her voice. Her dear, familiar voice! She was\nthere! She was there; radiant, unshadowed, exulting in the flood of\nlight, at home, at ease; softly, shyly, proudly bending to the swift\nwelcome and carrying, after that, the hearts of the audience in her\nhand. She had only to go on, now, from triumph to triumph; her sun swam\nto the meridian and blazed there with a splendid light. Mrs. Hope with\nlowered eyes, breathed deep of a success that passed her dreams; Ten\nEuyck, compressing his lips, his arms folded, never took his eyes from\nChristina's face. And Bryce Herrick, watching her move, watching her\nspeak, not accepting this, as did the public, for a gift from heaven,\nbut aware to the bone of its being all made ground, of the art that had\nlifted her as it were from off the wrack into this divine power of\nbreathing and creating loveliness, could have dropped down before her\nand begged to be forgiven.\nWho was he to have judged her?--to-day or last night? to have exacted\nfrom her a line of conduct? to have tried to force upon her the motives\nand the standards of tame, of ordinary women? He remembered having often\nsmiled, however tenderly, at her pretensions; not having taken quite\nseriously her attitude to her work. And here was a genius of the first\norder, whose gifts and whose beauty would remain a happy legend in the\nhearts of men when he was dust; whose name youth would carry on its lips\nfor inspiration when no one would care that he had ever been born! Oh,\ndear and beautiful Diana who had stooped to a mortal! For this was the\nsecret thrill that ran like wildfire through the homage of his\nheart--the knowledge that she loved him, and the feel of her lips on\nhis!\nLet them worship, poor creatures, poor mob! Unknowing and unguessing\nthat between him and her there was a bond that crossed the\nfootlights--the memory of a dark room and firelight, a girl in his\narms.--\"Bryce dear, are we engaged? You haven't said?--I've wanted\nyou--Oh, how I've wanted you--all my life!\"--At the end of the\nperformance it was impossible not to try to see her; not to get a word\nwith her, to confess and to have absolution.\nBut at the stage-door there were so many people that he could not have\nendured to share his minute with them. He knew the Babel that it must be\ninside, and he decided to wait here; by-and-by the Inghams wouldn't\ngrudge him a moment. They seemed to stay forever; but at last all were\ngone but two or three, and he decided to send in his card. As he stepped\nforward the door opened, and Christina, in the oblong of light, stood\ndrawing on her gloves.\nShe was dressed as if for a coronation and not even upon the stage had\nthe effulgence of her beauty seemed so drawn together for conquest. Her\nlong white gown had threads of silver in it; the white cloak thrown back\nfrom her shoulders did not conceal her lovely throat nor the long string\nof diamonds that to Herrick's amazement were twisted round her neck and\nfell down along her breast; she carried on one arm a great white sheaf\nof orchids, and Iphigenia led to the sacrifice was surely not so pale.\nUpon her appearance the closed motor which had been waiting across the\nstreet swept into place. It was a magnificent car, lined with white; the\nlittle curtains at the windows were drawn back and a low electric lamp\nshowed the swinging vases of orchids and white violets. Christina turned\nher eyes from it till they met Herrick's; for a moment they widened as\nif galvanized, and then, with a sweet, icy bow, she went right past him.\nA man who had jumped out of the motor got in after her, and closed the\ndoor. It was the man who had sat all alone in the stage box; Cuyler Ten\nEuyck.\nCHAPTER XIV\nACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS\nThere are violences to nature in which she is reined up so suddenly that\nafter them we are left stupid rather than unhappy. In such a mood of\nheld-in turmoil Herrick walked home and waited for to-morrow. His\nappointment with Christina was at twelve, noon, and until noon he\nstruggled not to think at all. Anything was better than thought; yet\nnothing would now answer save security--security past, present and\nfuture--a full understanding of her life, of her trouble, of her\nactions, of what game she was playing and of what part in it she was\nready to give him. By-and-by the wound began to throb, but he merely\nkept it closed with a firm hand. Till noon to-morrow!\nWith the morning the papers he had ordered, in a time that seemed long\nago, came to his door; he found himself opening them, and tracing the\ndazzling streams of Christina's notices. Their flaming praises left him\ncold; already they seemed to be written about some one whom he did not\nknow.\nHere, at any rate, was a Christina Hope with whom he could imagine\nparting. The greatness of her destiny was full upon her; she seemed\nringed with a cold fire, brilliant as the golden collar of the world and\npassible, perhaps, by Cuyler Ten Euycks, but hardly by a young literary\nman from the country. Never again, whether she wished or no, could she\nbe quite the same girl in the gray gown who had sat in a corner of the\ncoroner's office beside her mother. Hermann Deutch's Miss Christina had\nbecome one of the great successes of all time. And Herrick shrank a\nlittle at the loud clang of her fame.\nHe was going that morning to the Ingham offices at ten o'clock to sign\nhis contract. The day was oppressively warm, with hot glints of\nsunshine, and it seemed to Herrick that the bright, feverish streets\nswarmed with the rumors of Christina's triumph. He wondered if it had\ngot in to that man in jail and acquainted him with the strange\ndifference in their fates. His contract meant nothing to him; he got\naway as soon as he could. Yet already the atmosphere was changed, the\nsky was overcast, and as the clocks about Herald Square struck eleven, a\nwarm, dusty wind, even now bearing heavy drops of rain, swept down the\nstreet. If Herrick took a car he would reach the Hopes a good half hour\ntoo early, and he had no mind, after walking in the wet, to present\nhimself in muddied boots and a wilted collar before Christina. He looked\nabout him. He could choose between hotel bars--where actors might be\ntalking of her glory--dry goods shops and a moving-picture show. Perhaps\nbecause Christina had gratefully mentioned moving-pictures, he chose the\nlatter. His longing and dread were so concentrated upon twelve o'clock\nthat he had no consciousness of buying his ticket. Only of\nwondering--wondering--\nThe place was not yet full enough to be oppressive, and Herrick sat\nthere in the welcome dark, with the rhythmic pounding of the music\nstunning his nerves. He closed his eyes; and immediately there sprang up\nbefore his consciousness the eternal, monotonous procession of\nquestions--What had she meant last night, by throwing over everything\nfor Ten Euyck? Why had she fainted at the sight of Nancy Cornish's hair\nand what strange bond linked Nancy with Ingham's murder? Why had Nancy\ndisappeared a few hours before the shot; who had said, in Ingham's room,\n\"Ask Nancy Cornish,\" and to whom had they said it? Why had her\nvisiting-card broken down Christina's earlier evidence, and was that her\nscarf which had frightened Christina so, or did it belong to that woman\nof the shadow? And who was that woman? Why had an uncontrolled and\nvariable man, such as Denny had described himself, suffered six hours of\nthe third degree rather than risk revealing her name? By what authority\ndid Christina promise to produce her, that very afternoon, at the office\nof the District Attorney? Had she made Christina break with Ingham, as\nshe had made Denny kill him, by that story of his betrayal of her youth?\nHe felt intuitively that in this woman was the key to the entire\nsituation. She had created it; she would be found, more than they now\nknew, to have controlled it; and she, and perhaps she alone, could solve\nits manifold involutions. She had arrived before Denny, she had spoken\nboldly and insolently to Joe of Ingham; she had forced herself in upon\nhim when he did not want her; she had come openly in a white lace\ndress--he remembered the lace that hung from the shadow's sleeve--and\nmade herself as conspicuous as possible--why? And as Herrick asked\nhimself these questions in the darkness he could almost have believed\nhimself surrounded by the darkness of that night; the brisk strumming of\nthe orchestra was not much like Ingham's piano, but it had the same\nexcited hurry of those last few moments; and Herrick's mind called up\nagain the light, bright surface of the blind and then the shadow of the\nwoman cast upon it, lithe and tense, with uplifted arm, the fingers\nstiffening in the air. His eyes sprang open, and there before him, on\nthe pictured screen, among the moving figures of the play, was the same\nshadow, with uplifted arm, the fingers spreading and stiffening in the\nair. Then in the movement of the scene, the shadow turned clean round\nand disclosed Christina's face.\nCHAPTER XV\n\"WHEN STARS GROW COLD\"\nHerrick sat without moving while the shadows played out their play. But\nhe saw them no longer. They had begun and ended for him with that\ncertainty which it seemed to him, now, that he had always felt.\nWhen Christina's film came round again he watched it carefully all\nthrough from the beginning. The play was of some western episode, and he\nsaw Christina come on, a spare slip of a girl in short skirts and long\nbraids, a little awkward, a little jerky, like a suspicious colt, and he\nobserved quite coolly what she had gained in five years. He saw Denny\ncome on, dressed as a Mexican--cast for the villain even then!--and he\nsaw for himself how greatly Denny had been her superior in those days,\nand all the method and knowledge which she had absorbed from him as she\nabsorbed everything from everybody; and Herrick smiled there, in the\ndarkness, to think of it. As the action of the play quickened it shook\nthe novice from her self-consciousness; the promise of her great talent\nbegan to show; already she did things that were magnificent; and when at\nlast her wedding was interrupted at the church door by the Mexican's\nattempt to claim her as his sweetheart, her fire and fury became superb.\nHerrick leaned forward watching. He saw Denny pour out his accusation,\nhe saw the bridegroom hesitate, he saw Christina sweep round denouncing\nthem both, saw the lithe, tense length of her, and her proudly lifted\nhead, saw her suddenly fling one arm up and out in her strange and\nsplendid gesture of her free, her desperate passion; the hand clenched\nfor an instant and then the fingers slowly spreading and stiffening in\nthe air. He waited for the shot, but no shot came. Only once more the\nshadow turned and revealed the young face of Christina, as she was at\nseventeen, and shone upon him through the darkness with Christina's\neyes. Herrick rose to his feet and pushed out of the theater. The\nstreets were full of wind and rain, but he did not know it, and along\nthe crowded crossings, among multitudes that he did not see, he had the\nluck of the drunken and the blind.\nHe walked for hours without knowing where he went. His soaked clothes\nhung on him like lead and the wind pounded him and made him wrestle with\nit, but the burning poison of his thoughts could not be put out by wind\nor rain. Towards nightfall he found himself at the door of the house\nwhere he lived, and having nothing else to do, he went in. His\nsitting-room was dark and cold; he threw himself into a chair and\nlounged there, sodden with fatigue and wet, and staring at the empty\ngrate. There, when it was all aglow, had she leaned to him and put her\nface to his and lied. As she had lied to Ingham, waking on his breast!\nAs she had lied to Denny, folded in his arms! Harlot and liar, liar and\ncheat--oh, liar, liar, liar! For that was the poison in the wound, and\nthe bitterness beyond death--that not for one hour had she been true!\nThat flower-sweetness of her dear touch, of her hand in his, was as\ncorrupt as hell. His dear, wild, brave, demure Diana had never drawn one\nbreath of life--and the adventuress who wore her masque had all along\nlaughed at him in her sleeve! If she had only told him! It was a\nchallenge he could have met and carried; he felt his hand lock on\nChristina's, strong to draw her from any quicksand of which she\nstruggled to be free. But that she should have fooled him and played\nwith him and led him blindfold, that she should have gone out of her way\nto snare and laugh at him--what one of the lies with which she had been\nwaiting for him this noon could he now believe? She had betrayed and\nthrown over Ingham for Denny as she had thrown over Denny for him, and\nas she had thrown him over for Ten Euyck! She had played them all four\nagainst each other--them, and how many others!--as in her insatiable\nvanity she would yet throw Ten Euyck over for some new fool! She was all\nvanity and nothing else; foul in her heart and scheming in her tongue,\ncruel, cheating, worthless! Oh, Christina, oh, sweet, my sweet--liar,\nliar, liar!--oh, Christina!--you! How could you?\nHe sprang up; going to his sideboard, he poured out a strong drink of\nthe raw liquor and drained the glass. And as he stood there, with the\nrank fire coursing through his exhaustion, the chilled stiffness of his\nbody and the heavy reeking damp of his crumpled clothes gave way to a\nterrible warm sense of life and pain, and to a hunger, such as he had\nnever known, for that pain to be eased. Only one thing on earth could\nease it and that was the sight of Christina's face.\nHe struck a light and looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock. In the\nmirror opposite he could see his leaden face, stiff with soil and\nweariness and framed in his moist, rumpled hair. He looked at it with a\nsense of its being very ugly and unseemly, and that the dull red\nbeginning to creep into it from the whiskey was uglier and unseemlier\nstill. His body weighed upon him horribly, it seemed to creak and\nprickle in its reluctant joints, and to loom up tangibly before him, as\nif he saw double. But his spirit was very light and fierce and swift,\nand throbbed in him, mad to be out of jail. Mechanically he got his hat,\nand started for Christina's theater.\nHe did not want to speak to her, to have any sort of dealings with her;\nbut see her he must. It was a need like any other, but stronger than any\nother; not to be argued with. Now that he knew her, he must see her.\nThat would cure him. Let him see her once more and he could forget her\nin peace. Something heavy, like his body, told him that this wouldn't\ndo; this was death and damnation, this would destroy him through and\nthrough! And he replied that he hated her, and would forget her, and\nnever wished to pass another word with her! But see her this once more,\nhe must. Once more! Through the night and the pouring rain, the lights\nof her theater began to gleam. They gleamed on arriving motors; on high\nhats and snowy shirt-fronts, on opera cloaks and jeweled hair. Despite\nthe storm, the city had driven forth to do homage to the new star. The\ncandles at Christina's altar were burning high and clear; the lobby, all\nbrightness and warmth, was filled with delicate rustlings, frou-frous of\nlight feet and chattering voices and soft, merry sounds, idle\nexcitement. There was a little sparkle on all faces; the glimmer\nreflected from Christina's eyes. In all men's mouths was the sound of\nher name. Not last night had been more crowded nor more brilliant.\nAnd Herrick was very quiet and knew quite well how to behave. There\nwould not be a seat left at the box-office, nor would he appeal to the\nmanagement. He pushed to the center of the little crowd around a\nspeculator; then, clutching his ticket, went in. Just as last night, the\nushers ran up and down the aisles, and the seats clapped into place;\njust as last night, he was surrounded by a garden of chiffon and satin\nand perfume, of gossip and murmur. The audience, a little nervous, was\nwaiting to be thrilled. The overture was in, and the music quivered\nthrough Herrick as the drink had done. He sat there very still, muddy\nand damp, with a wilted collar, a rough head, and no gloves; there was a\nlittle fixed smile on his lips and he stared at the curtain. He couldn't\nsee through it. But soon it must go up. He was nothing but one waiting\nexpectancy.\nThey played a second overture and this did not surprise him. Then he saw\nWheeler, dressed for the first act, come before the curtain. And his\nsmile broke. Because the delay was so terrible. Then he realized that\nWheeler was making a speech.\n\"You can imagine, ladies and gentlemen, with what regret I am obliged to\ninform you that there will be no performance this evening. On account of\nthe sudden illness of Miss Christina Hope the theater will be closed for\nto-night.\" There was something about getting back money at the\nbox-office.\nHerrick continued to sit there, unable to accept what had happened to\nhim. He wasn't going to see her! It was the snatching back of food from\na starving man; he had laid his lips to the spring in the desert and\nfound it dry! The thing wasn't possible. All his nature had been running\nviolently forward, and the shock of its stoppage stupefied him. As for\nany concern over Christina's illness, it never occurred to him.\nBy-and-by he stood a long while on the corner of the street, not knowing\nwhere to go. He was not so lost as to seek Christina in person, and\nafter his recent vigil there his own rooms were insupportable to him.\nPresently some one jostled him, and he was face to face with Wheeler.\n\"Great God, man!\" Wheeler said. \"Where have you been! What are you\nstanding here for! We've been looking for you all afternoon. Called up\nyour rooms a dozen times! Deutch and Mrs. Hope and I, we've scoured the\ncity--been to the Tombs, the District Attorney's, Police Headquarters,\neverywhere. The Inghams are raving crazy. Ten Euyck's worse. Well, and\nhow about me? After all it's my loss! Everything's been done that can be\ndone. By to-morrow morning the whole city of New York'll be hit by a\ntornado. This little old town's going to get the shock of its life and\ngo right off its trolley! Say something! Don't stand there like a stuck\npig! Speak, can't you? Have you got any idea?\"\nHerrick heard his own voice saying, \"Is she so ill?\"\n\"Ill? Heavens and earth--you didn't swallow that drool, did you? Where\nhave you been? Ill? No, the girl's gone--vanished, kidnapped, run away,\nwhatever you like. She's disappeared!\"\nBOOK THIRD\nWILL O' THE WISP\nCHAPTER I\nGLEAMS IN THE RAIN: WHEELER'S STORY\nHerrick made no outcry at Wheeler's words. He simply stood looking out\ninto the wet and windy spaces of Times Square, where the great splashes\nof colored lights wavered and shone in manifold reflections on the\ngleaming pavement. And a tremendous and ultimate change arose like new\nlife in his heart.\nThere is a common human fallacy, touching and perhaps profounder than we\nknow, by which we instinctively assume any person in danger to be an\ninnocent person. To both men the missing girl was now in danger. It\noccurred no more to Herrick than to Wheeler that Christina, by any\npossibility whatever, could have voluntarily deserted a performance.\nSomething had happened. Inevitably, Herrick remembered the once laughed\nat Arm of Justice. Had it known, all along, what the shadow on the\nscreen had told him to-day? A hundred references of hers, a hundred\ninconsistencies, were solved at a stroke. Alone with that insensate\nmalignity which he had himself encountered, had she now tried to break\nsome blackmailing game and--lost?--He remembered with a horrid shock\nthat once let her be identified with the shadow on the blind and in the\neyes of the law she became the perjured witness of a murder, accessory\nbefore and after!--Threatened, thus, on every side, Christina's face\nseemed to flower for him there, on the night sky; as once, upon a foggy\nafternoon just as the wind began to rise, it had shone on him in the\nrainy street--when Christina had first held out her hand to him and\nsaid, \"Try to believe that perhaps she was in distress, after all!\"\nIn what hectic hot-house had he been stifling?--It was as though, in\nthis wild hour of sweeping rain and blowing air, of lights that flashed\nand changed in the surrounding darkness, of isolation amid the myriad\nnoises of the theater traffic and the clanging trolleys, he heard, of a\nsudden, Christina's cry for help; as though, running out into the\nfreedom of the storm, he gained her side of the road and took her hand.\nIt might be the hand of an outlaw, it was empty, forever, of any love or\nhope for him; but he could feel it, now, in his and he did not care\nagainst what world, whether his own or hers, he held it. For their\npersonal relation was no longer the great thing. The great thing could\nbe only that somewhere beyond him in the darkness, desperately needing\nhelp, _she was_. And the next thing was to find her.\n\"Well,\" he heard himself say to Wheeler in a commonplace voice, \"let's\nhear about it.\"\n\"I want to eat something beside trouble!\" Wheeler groaned. \"Come in\nacross the way. Stan's to 'phone there at nine.\"\nInstinctively they chose a table by a window, as though in the great\nstreet she had loved so much and won so lately, they might see her\nhurrying by. The restaurant was almost empty, but the news was already\nthere. It peered out of the cigar-smoke of the men to whom Wheeler\ncurtly nodded; it questioned them from the waiter's face. \"Where'll I\nbegin?\" asked Wheeler. \"Well, this afternoon they wouldn't let me see\nDenny. But I met Stan, and he told me Chris had jumped her appointment\nwith Kane, never brought her witness! Partly, I could have choked the\ngirl--and, partly, I couldn't believe it of her. I called up her house\nand I've been jumping ever since.\" And he poured out a story of haste\nand confusion, of friends interrogated, detectives summoned, of a mother\nmore ignorant than any one and more prostrated.--\"God, Herrick, I'm\nsick! The girl's such a monkey, up to the last minute I hoped she'd show\nup! About seven Kane got me over the coals. Wonder what he's hit the\ntrail so hard for? He'd had his suspicions of the Park,--the little\nCornish girl was last seen, you remember, going that way--but the police\nhave searched every bush for hours. The Inghams are all stewed up with\nhim and Stanley's wished on to him like a burr. The first thing he said\nto me was, 'At what time did Mrs. Hope inform you of her daughter's\nabsence? Don't hesitate--I can remind you. She never informed you at\nall!' Was he trying to see if I'd lie to him? What does he think I've\ndone with her? But funny thing--Mrs. Hope and the Deutches had been\nworrying round looking for that girl all day and yet she'd never\nconsulted me! Look here, it's not possible--No, what cause would she\nhave to harm herself?--Mrs. Hope blames herself because last night when\nChristina didn't come home--You didn't know that? Well, she didn't. Her\nmother thought she was at the Deutches, out of temper. You knew she\nquarreled with her mother about Ten Euyck? They nearly knifed each\nother!\"\n\"For God's sake,\" said Herrick, \"tell me whatever you know!\" Across his\nshoulder the zest of Broadway seemed to peer and listen. But it was too\nlate to consider that.\n\"You see, last night's supper has been delicate ground from the\nbeginning. Before I knew what the Inghams had planned I asked Christina\nto come to supper with me--to bring her mother and any one she liked.\nShe seemed to be down on Denny since he and that Cornish girl disagreed\nand, as a particular bait, I mentioned you. I knew she was interested in\nyou. And when she isn't interested, the Lord help her host! Well, she\npreferred my scheme to the Inghams'--she seems to have shown all along\nthe most ungodly resistance to their help or countenance in any way! But\nI could see, as well as her mother, which was best for my\nleading-woman, and she finally gave in. It's remarkable how entirely\none thinks of Christina as the head of the house, and yet how often she\ndoes give in--what an influence her mother has over her when she has any\nat all!\" He drained his long glass with a sigh. \"But last night, right\nafter the performance, Mrs. Hope comes running into my dressing-room,\nwell--as I may say, at death's door. Christina was going off to supper\nwith Ten Euyck. You can understand that I didn't listen to her then as I\nshould now. She wanted me, as the only person Christina would be likely\nto take a word from, to reason with her. I said, 'Yes, yes. By-and-by.'\nI only wanted to shut her up, you understand. For just then, in the\nfirst flush of Christina's triumph, I didn't any more think of\ninterfering with her than with the sun in heaven! I won't say I'd been\nrehearsing an angel unawares, but the girl had grown, in that one night,\nway out of my sphere. I thought probably Ten Euyck had just prostrated\nhimself and she'd gone a little off her head, and no wonder! It didn't\nseem necessarily so terrible to me. But the old lady is a great stickler\nfor the proprieties--yes, and for all her talk, Christina has her own\neye on social splendor! It's one thing not to receive people and it's\nquite another not to have them call!--When I'd got rid of my friends and\nhad given Christina time to get rid of hers, I went round to thank her\nand congratulate her and at the same time to ask her if she didn't think\nshe was doing the Inghams a pretty dirty trick. There stood my young\nlady dressed out--I was going to say 'to kill'--why, to make Solomon in\nall his glory turn pale and fade away! Great Scott!--She looked like the\nkingdoms of the earth and the wonders thereof! Christina is always\nbewailing the money she owes but you may have noticed that, for a poor\nworking-girl, she does herself rather well in frocks. Mrs. Hope was\nsitting quiet in a corner, quashed, and Christina was humming--'Auld\nacquaintance,' if you please!--to herself in front of the glass. 'Auld\nacquaintance,' indeed! I thought of Denny, and how he'd stood by this\nradiant image through thick and thin--in a way, you might say, made her!\nAnd though you'll forgive a good deal to a first night like that, I\nbegan to agree with the people who say she hasn't any heart. And then I\nsaw--\"\n\"Yes--\"\n\"I saw she had a long string of diamonds twisted round her neck. 'Great\nGod, girl!' I said, 'where did those come from?'\"\n\"And she answered?\"\nWheeler had been speaking slower and slower and now, for a long time, it\nseemed as if he were not going to speak at all. Then \"She answered,\n'They have come from Cuyler Ten Euyck. But don't breathe it. It has just\nkilled dear mamma.'\"\n\"Well, go on.\"\n\"Her mother got up at that and started to go. But Christina stopped her\nat the door and took hold of her arm. 'Mother,' she said, 'what does it\nmatter? Oh, my poor mother, can't you see that whatever happens we have\ndone with respectability? It's inevitable, it must be done. And to-night\nor to-morrow, what does it matter? Twenty-four hours, one way or the\nother, and then--mud to the right of us, mud to the left of us, and unto\ndust we shall return!' I thought they were the strangest words that ever\ncame out of a girl's mouth on the night of what you might call her\ncoronation!\"\n\"And Mrs. Hope?\"\n\"Mrs. Hope just took her daughter's hand off her arm and walked out of\nthe door and out of the theater.--Well,\" said Wheeler, with a deep sigh,\n\"it wasn't for me to do that. I'm a pretty long way from a Puritan! All\nthe same, this thing made me sick. 'Chris,' said I, 'don't go with him!\nTake off those damned diamonds and tell him to go to hell! You can soon\nmake diamonds for yourself, old girl!' She looked up, singing, in my\nface. And that's the last I saw of her.\"\n\"Go on!\"\n\"My boy, you need a drink!\"\n\"And Ten Euyck says--?\"\n\"Oh, poor Ten Euyck--his dignity can't bend, so it's all cracked. He\ntook her to supper at the Palisades and she left early.\" The Palisades\nwas a new roadhouse up the river and the rage of that summer. \"The\nzealous creature has even run to Kane and disgorged the names of his\nguests. So it leaks out that, once the poor soul had unbent so far as to\nbe seen with an actress, he couldn't be devilish by halves. It seems\nmiss was annoyed at the character of said guests, as well as at finding\nsupper served in a private room. So with the offended majesty of an\ninjured queen, she withdrew to no less public a spot than the entrance\nporch. There she sat, swathed in her cloak and with her skirts drawn\nabout her, till the arrival of the cab she had insisted upon.\" Wheeler\nbroke into a laugh. \"That girl,\" he said, \"is the devil himself!\"\n\"And that--was that the very--last--?\"\n\"Exactly. There she is, togged out in a white, silky crepe-y, trail-y\ndress, embroidered in silver, and a white lace opera cloak. In these\nuseful and inconspicuous garments, she vanishes.\" His grim grin soured.\n\"You know what they'll all say! Kane tells the Inghams she couldn't\ncatch Ten Euyck so surely as with an irritant. She took, of all ways,\nthe way to hold him. Why, she left him in public--him, the invulnerable\ncorrector of women! He'll never rest until she is seen, in public,\nhanging on his arm! And then the man values his diamonds at forty\nthousand dollars!\"\n\"She drove off alone, at midnight, in a taxicab, with forty thousand\ndollars' worth of diamonds round her neck--\"\n\"Yes, and the cabman was discharged this morning for drunkenness! Stan's\nto 'phone if they've found him. Oh, but look here--take it slow! She\n'phoned Ten Euyck's house at eight this morning and left a message,\nopenly, with her name! The servant who took the message describes\nexactly that trailing voice of hers--'tell him he may come for his\nnecklace to-night!'\"\n\"Come! Come where?\"\n\"Search me! Or Ten Euyck, either, from the foam on his mouth!--Well,\ndoesn't that put it up that wherever she 'phoned from they got on to the\ndiamond necklace. So, where was she? You and I, we know old Chris--we\nknow, after all, that she just went somewhere for the night on account\nof her quarrel with her mother. But, oh, lord, Herrick, who else is\ngoing to believe it? The whole braying pack of this intelligent\nworld--all it can think of's dirt--the devilish gay sensation of the\nwhole business! Christina Hope! D'you think there's a bank clerk or a\nsubmissive wife that won't recognize her proper atmosphere at a glance?\nYou and I and little Stan--a poor author, a profane actor and a brat! In\na few hours that's what her kingdom's crumbled to--'that was so wondrous\nsweet and fair!' Police and all, there's the spirit in which they're\ngoing to look for her, and that's going to be one of the worst things in\nour way. Well, I'm not a rich man and our precious kid's just about\nruined me this night! But I've done for her what may bust me sky-high\nand worth it--I've offered ten thousand for her--safe, you understand!\nIt ought to be in to-night's late editions, so by now, in one spirit or\nthe other, this town's out after her like a hound!--Eh? All right! It's\nStan, now!\"\nHerrick sat there staring into the street. A newsboy ran past with the\nlast extra of the evening. Two of the interested smokers had just left\nthe restaurant and now stopped in the rain to buy a paper, opening and\nscanning the flapping sheets against the wind. Ah, yes, of course! He,\ntoo, sent for a paper. Yes, there, on the first page--scare headings,\nbut in itself the meagerest fact. Scarcely even insinuations\nyet--\"friends fear some serious accident,\" \"friends deny suicide,\"\n\"suspicious circumstance--Ten Euyck necklace\"--Wheeler's reward, and\nnews three hours old. When he looked up the square seemed full of\nnewsboys; several people as they came into the restaurant had papers in\ntheir hands. She was just news, now; disreputable news! \"The town's out\nafter her like a hound!\"--Wheeler's hand was on his shoulder. \"No cabman\nyet. But they want you, Herrick, on the 'phone.\"\nStanley's voice told him only to hold the wire. Then a crisper tone\nasked pleasantly, \"Mr. Herrick? This is Henry Kane. I just wanted to ask\nyou--you had an appointment with Miss Hope for noon to-day. If you\ndidn't know she was not at home, why didn't you keep it?\"\nHow sharply the trap bit!\n\"You've had no communication with her since last evening? Nothing\nhappened to arouse your anxiety? Nor distrust? No, nothing? And yet,\njust as it began to rain, you started for a walk in a light suit--or\"\n(the telephone itself seemed to give forth a dry smile) \"what I am told\nwas once a light suit, and walked about all day in an equinoctial storm!\nTaking yourself to the theater at night without changing, without\nshaving, without dining, but still carrying on your person a good deal\nof the surface of the earth and of the waters under the earth! Well,\nsorry to have disturbed you. Only my dear sir, don't trouble yourself to\nconceal too much. Don't fancy yourself the only man in New York who has\nbeen to a moving-picture show.\" Kane hung up the receiver.\nThat stunned, sick, silent curse of the man on the wrong side of the\nlaw! This attorney fellow was like a hound after her, too! He, then,\nsince he was so clever, in God's name let him find her and find\nher--soon! It was all he asked!--As Herrick stepped out of the booth\ninto the corridor of mirrors that ran through the building to the next\nstreet a page boy came briskly up the gilded lane, pattering out a\nphrase that washed across Herrick's mind in a wave of sound dimly\nfamiliar; he saw the boy turn into the orangerie and through the\nglass-screen he vaguely watched him wend his way between the little\ngreen tables with their golden lamps, lifting his flatted tones into the\norange-scented air so that its mechanical legend was caught by trailing\nvines and mingled with the plashing of a little fountain. His mind\naimlessly followled the boy's cry till it was lost in the music of a\nmezzanine orchestra hidden in the foliage of a tame tropical jungle!\nThis was what they called civilization--this trash which had achieved no\nmechanism to find her, to protect her! But which could know that she had\nbeen struck out of its midst and yet sit there in its futile nonsense,\nstuffing--A voice rose from the velvet lounge beside him in the toneless\ndelivery of one who reads aloud. It was reading the extra's account of a\ngesture in a moving picture show. \"The police say that boys began\nreporting it before noon, and, the attention of the theater having been\ncalled to the film, its patrons are now offered a thrill of realism by\nthe piano in the orchestra accompanying the gesture with the march from\nFaust. This time, it will be remembered...\"\nOh, no doubt it would be remembered! Its exultant shout sounded like the\nhunter's cry after her now, winged by Wheeler's offer of ten thousand\ndollars! Doubtless the film would be repeated on the morrow, that all\nthe world might steel its heart as it watched with its own eyes\nChristina Hope moving with that motion to that time!\nOh, for something to do! Some untried search, some shrewder question!\nSomething to do, to suffer, to dare--some clue--some suggestion--Denny!\nHad they tried Denny? He who knew so much at the least would set them\nright, would know and would tell them that she had never deserted his\ncause of her own free will, that he who knew her believed in\nher--Wheeler came out into the lobby and took him by the arm. He, too,\nhad bought a paper and now he held it under Herrick's eyes. \"This is why\nI couldn't see him, then!\" In the Tombs that afternoon, Denny had again\nattempted suicide.\nSo that was how he proclaimed his confidence! He had somehow got hold of\na knife, but the blow aimed at his heart had been averted by a watchful\nguard and he had received only fleshwounds--one in the left shoulder,\none in the left forearm. A little ludicrous, a little sickening that a\nman so expert in killing another should always bungle about killing\nhimself! But he had been prompt enough and successful enough in setting\nupon the girl who had failed him the brand of his despair! Who would\ncredit, now, that he did not believe in her flight? Herrick felt a\nthickness in his throat; with a longing for fresh, dark spaces he pushed\nopen a door of the lobby and was confronted by the city, glittering in\nwet gold. There, up Long Acre, lay the heart of her world.\nAnd from down where the bronze workmen struck the hours in Herald Square\nup past where the gathering streets parted again under a new electric\ngirl, high in the sky, who winked a knowing colossal eye over a rainbow\ncocktail, what faith did it keep with her? Her flight, her shadow on the\nscreen, they burned in a newer sky-sign, they flashed a fearful but a\nmore stirring legend! This swept up the thoroughfare that never colors\nitself more like Harlequin than in its mirrors of wet asphalt and sped\ndown every side street starred with theaters where, between the acts,\nmen gathered and returned with news, and it became clear to thrilling\naudiences that so long as there had been nothing against this Christina\nHope she had meant to tell some tale to Kane in Denny's behalf--it would\nhave been a pretty piece of acting--but the mute witness of the shadow\nhad broken her down. She had fled from that writing on the screen--even\nin the dressing-rooms they would say that! And later, in all these hot,\nbright jardins de danse that yesterday were cabarets, these cabarets\nthat were restaurants yesterday, among the pellucid proprieties of slit\nskirts, tango turns, and trotting music it would be said that all along\nDenny had kept at least the half of his silence for Christina's sake.\nOh, street of a thousand feverish tongues, how she loved you! And why\ndid she leave you? Where is she, and where is she? How near, how far?\n\"Where is she? And how doth she?\" There lay her theater; what stroke\ncould be so heavy as to drive her from that? \"The Victors!\" Leave \"The\nVictors!\" There were great blurs of light before the billboards. But the\nwind tore through them at the boards, struggling to wrench the signs\naway. Fierce as it was it was still rising and it ran like a crazy\nnewsboy whooping through the world, senseless as the cry of the page\nthat came nearer and nearer. So that Wheeler said, \"Good lord, man,\ndon't you know your own name?\"\nYes, that was what the boy had been saying all along--\"Herr--ick!\nHerr--ick! Mr. Bry--us Herrick!\"\n\"No card, sir. Forty-fifth Street entrance. In a taxi, sir. A lady wants\nto speak to you.\"\nCHAPTER II\nCORPSE CANDLES IN THE NIGHT: MRS. DEUTCH'S STORY\nThe monstrous hope died almost in the pang that gave it birth. The lady\nwho leaned out to him from the cab, putting aside her heavy veil, showed\nhim the troubled countenance of Henrietta Deutch.\nIt came to him even then that he had arrived at the turning of a corner.\nSo that he was surprised when she said to him, \"Oh, sir, where have you\nbeen? Sir, sir, have you any news?\"\nShe had none, then!\n\"Hours have I waited and waited at your rooms! There the young Ingham\nsends me word that you are here. We have hoped always you might be with\nher! Oh, dear heaven! You know nothing, young sir? Nothing at all?\"\n\"Nothing.\"\nShe drew back. \"Tell me only this. Are you--for her, Mr. Herrick? Or\n_rid_ of her?\"\nHerrick replied, \"Well, what do you think?\"\nShe, whom grief somehow became and illumined like her native and\nrevealing element, peered into his haggard face, worn and soiled and\nsharpened and grim. \"Then, young gentleman, I am asked by Mrs. Hope if\nof her daughter you have any word or trace, do not give it to the\npolice.\"\nWhat? Herrick felt something cold breaking about the roots of his hair.\nThen this clinging, this devoted mother did not want her daughter\nfound!--\"She said nothing more than this?\"\n\"Nothing more.\"\nHe digested it in silence and it was with a heavy gathering dread that\nwhen she asked him to drive home with her he put himself in her hands.\nThen, in what seemed a single convulsion of the storm, the taxi rocked\nto a standstill before the Deutch apartment.\nAs Mrs. Deutch sprung on the light their eyes vainly quested for some\nenvelope beneath the door; she went out again to the mail-box, to the\nelevator, inquiring for a message. Then the woman and the young man, not\nknowing where to turn next, sat down amid the emptiness of those walls\nwhich had so often held Christina. Here, more than ever, everything\nsaid, \"She must be just round the corner! Where is she? Where can she\nbe?\" And still Herrick knew that Mrs. Hope's message was but a part of\nwhat he had to hear and that his hostess still groped for terms in which\nto tell the rest.\nThe pause lay heavy between them. Then, \"Young gentleman,\" said Mrs.\nDeutch, \"you love my Christina, is it not so?\"\n\"Don't make me laugh!\" Herrick desolately replied.\nShe rose. \"Then I will say to you what I have long had on my heart.\" She\nopened the door. The halls were empty. She turned the key in the lock,\nand glanced at the closed windows; sitting close to him again she laid a\nkind hand on his. \"Mr. Herrick, there is something wrong with Hermann\nDeutch. There is something in his mind to make him crazy. And in the\nlast days--say it is two or three--it makes him crazier all the while.\nYes, this is so. It is fear. And something that he will not tell. He\nknows something, and it makes him afraid. It has been so since he went\nup to the room of Mr. Ingham on _that_ night.\"\nHerrick looked down at her hand and then he put his other hand atop of\nboth and gave hers a little pressure. \"Mrs. Deutch, what is it that you\nknow about that night? Don't be afraid of me. Don't be afraid for me.\nWhat is it?\"\n\"Oh, my young sir, I am ready to tell you. Yesterday, no. But to-day,\nwhen all the world has seen the shadow-picture, yes--why not? On that\nnight till very late I was away. For I had a friend with a sick baby,\nand nurses one can not always pay. When I came to the basement gate\nthere was in our flat no lights. But when I went in there was my\nhusband, with his coat over his shirt, standing, listening, in the dark.\nAnd he said, 'Christina is upstairs!'--very cross and ugly. I said, 'At\nIngham's? Why, what for?--Why,' I said, before he could tell it to me,\n'are you out of your mind that you should let her go up there with that\nman at midnight?' He said, 'Tell me the one thing. How would you have\nprevented her from going up?'\"\nThey smiled at one another, ruefully, as at an evocation of Christina.\n\"'Oh, my God!' he cries out. 'There is going to be trouble! Mr. Denny,\nhe has found out why she quarreled with that Ingham, yesterday. She says\nhe will kill him. She wants that Ingham should go away.'\"\n\"Do you know why they did quarrel?\"\n\"No, neither of us. Never at all.--But then, I started to go up to her,\nby the freight elevator as he had taken her. Down that back hall we did\nnot hear the shot. But the telephone made us halt. Joe told us.\"\nThe clasp of Herrick's hand lent her its reassurance and she went on.\n\"My husband was all at once like a man in a fit. He seemed to have no\nhead. He is not to say fearful, but he is the way men are. 'Go!' I said,\n'Hasten! It may be that it is he who himself shot!' And this gave him\nheart to go upstairs. Then comes to me Christina, slipping along from\nthe back. I saw her white dress in the dark. And then she came into a\nlittle patch of light and put her finger to her lips. I ran and pulled\nher in and shut the door. And I took her in my arms to warm her, for\nshe was made all of ice. 'Is he dead?' I asked her. And she shivered\nout, 'Oh, a doctor! Get a doctor! Go up to him, Tante Deutch! And\nhurry!' she would say, 'Hurry!' But, indeed, I thought there was enough\nwith him. I asked her the one thing: 'Who did it?' She looked at me with\nher lips all wide apart. But not a name would she breathe out. Neither\nthen nor to this day. And by that I knew it was Mr. Denny. For no man\nbut him would she be so still. Or not then, when you she did not yet\nknow.\"\nThe color rushed into Herrick's face. But he could not speak and Mrs.\nDeutch went on. \"I asked her not one thing more. I held her and tried to\ngive her comfort, and at first she clung to me. She did not cry, but by\nand by she would sit alone, waiting, listening, and her nostrils made\nthemselves large. But at last it was only my husband who came, and\nChristina flew up and looked at him. And her eyes were big and wild with\nquestions, but still speak she would not. But my husband's face, Mr.\nHerrick, it was the face of him who has been struck, who has been\nstabbed. Not then nor now do I know why that look he has. But it is not\ngone, it grows worse. He said only to Christina, looking straight at\nher, 'You left your scarf!' and his voice had in it a sound that was\nhard. She looked at him a long time, and she said, 'Very well, then. I\nshall know what to do!' At that moment, see you, she said to herself,\n'Me they will suspect, and not him!' And oh, my brave heart, her mind\nshe made up: 'So be it!' We kept her there till just before dawn. And\nthen, because of her white lace dress, we put upon her my old black coat\nand hat, and both of us went home with her that she might be the less\nlooked at. She let herself in, and all the rest you know. Only--\"\n\"Only that Deutch knows something more!\"\n\"And in all our life the one with the other, it is to me the one thing\nhe has not told. He is not a secret man. Mr. Herrick, here is what\nmakes my heart heavy. This thing--it is something not good for our\nlittle girl or he would have told it long ago! But to-day when she\nvanishes like that other girl who was her friend, he tells it to the\nmother of Christina!\"\nSo, that was why! Herrick rose. No hour seemed too late, no scene too\nstrange. \"Mrs. Hope will have to tell me!\" he said.\nHenrietta Deutch rose, too, and put her hands on his two shoulders, as\nif at once to comfort and control. She said, \"She is not here!\"\n\"Not where?\"\n\"Not in New York. She is gone. She has fled away that she need not tell\nat all. A train to some other city where there are boats for Europe--he\nsays it is best I know no more. He has gone West somewhere. You see, he\nmust have thought Christina, too, has fled. And what he told her mother,\nit has made them not dare to stay. My poor boy!\" said Mrs. Deutch,\ntightening her hold of Herrick, \"my poor boy!\"\n\"It's all right!\" Herrick said, \"It's all right! They're wrong, that's\nall! They're wrong!\"\nHe moved up and down the room with long, excited strides. False lights\nof misery--horrible corpse candles, leading their lying way toward that\nwhich was bitterer than a new-made grave!--\"Why, Denny did it! We all\nknow that! You've just said so, yourself!\"\n\"Ah, yes, truly. Surely! But--yet--\"\n\"What could Deutch have seen that we didn't see? We were all there--he\nonly went in with us. He may guess something--he can't know. What are we\nall afraid of?\"\n\"And yet,\" said Mrs. Deutch, \"we are all afraid!\"\nThere was a brisk knock on the door. The newcomer smiled grimly at them\nfrom under a dripping hat brim. \"I hope I'm welcome,\" he said. It was\nthe District Attorney.\nHe seemed to take his own appearance quite naturally and perhaps he was\nnot averse to their being stunned by it. Standing with his back against\nthe door he removed his hat and rubbed his hand over the wet mark across\nhis forehead. \"Mrs. Deutch? As soon as my assistants get here I want to\ntry an experiment in the Ingham apartment. You're rather an\nexceptional--janitress, madam! I think I'm going to ask you at once if\nthere isn't some story connected with your marriage to Hermann Deutch.\nIt looks as though there must have been scandal of some sort to account\nfor it.\"\nThe wife's glow of indignation maintained in silence an unruffled\ndignity. After awhile she said very slowly, \"It is true. There was a\nscandal. It did make our marriage.\"\nHerrick's defensive frown faltered over a sense of something coming\ntrue. He knew, now, that he had always felt in that rich simplicity of\nHenrietta Deutch a superiority somehow mysterious. Yes, he had always\nseen that figure of domestic tranquillity as not wholly detached from a\ndense background, somehow somber and mysterious.\n\"Before you commit yourself on that point, just tell me who or what\nenforces obedience with a triangular knife?--Let her alone!\"\nFor Mrs. Deutch had uttered a dreadful cry. It was low, but full of\nincredible pain.\nKane grinned triumphantly at Herrick. \"Great heaven!\" Herrick begged.\n\"What is it? What do you know?\"\n\"Here! Let's sit down and get at this! Mrs. Deutch, this is nearer than\nyou think to our young lady. Best help me!\"\n\"Wait! A moment! No, what I know it is far from Christina. It happened\nbefore she was born. But I will tell it. You shall judge.\"\nA long painful breath labored from her bosom. Then she spoke.\n\"The scandal was this. My father died in prison. He was imprisoned for\nhis life. He was accused that he had killed a child.\"\n\"Yes. Well, go on.\"\n\"It begins long before, with my home in Germany. My father was a\nmerchant of wines there, and he had in business relations with a\nNeapolitan family named Gabrielli. Their son, Emile, was my brother's\nfriend.----Emile Gabrielli, Herrick's Italian lawyer, who had suggested\nhis novel!\"\n\"I had but the one brother; for my mother was never strong and of her\nchildren only two grew up. We were very old fashioned; we lived in\ncomfort but we had neither the new thoughts nor the new manners. Only my\nbrother was very advanced. He was so modern that when he looked upon us,\neven, it gave him exasperation. His friend was not of his faith. But\nthat was so old-fashioned a thought it could not be at all mentioned\nbefore him. Well, then, I--too--for one thing perhaps we are all enough\nadvanced! I came to love Emile. He loved me, too. And no one was\npleased--not even my brother! But, after a long time, when they began to\nthink I, too, was falling ill like all the rest who died, we were\nbetrothed. And my father sold his business out and bought a vineyard in\nSicily, near to the estate of Emile's father, taking there my mother,\nwhose health failed.\" Yes, with the bewildered indifference of his own\nemotion, Herrick remembered the miniature of which the parents of that\nsentimental gentleman had not been able to deprive him and recognized\nthe changed original in Henrietta Deutch.\n\"And one morning, walking far before breakfast, my father came upon a\ndead little boy under a bush among some rocks. He brought it to our home\nin his arms; it was the baby of a poor farmer. It had been stabbed\nbetween the little shoulders. And there was a strange, three-cornered\nwound.\"\nShe stopped and her hands stirred in her lap. But she clasped them and\nwent on. \"My father was accused. Witnesses appeared against him with\nstrange tales. How could we make ourselves believed. I have told you how\nhe fared.\n\"Do you think my brother could rest? He left his law in Germany; he came\nto Sicily to fight, to hunt, to turn every stone. He was found like the\nchild. There was the same three-cornered mark.\"\nKane gave a low whistle.\n\"My mother and I, we were all alone.\" She smoothed out a little fold in\nher dress. \"We had but the one message from the family of my\nbetrothed--that they withdrew the word of their son.\"\nKane looked up quickly. \"Yes?\" he urged. \"And then?\"\n\"Then came to us Hermann Deutch, who in the old days sold our wine. He\ngave us escort to Naples, for my mother could go no farther, and\nreturned to attend our property. It was all in a ruin. The house had\nburned. The cattle were gone. The laborers, too, nor would any return.\nThe land none would buy. It was a place accursed. Our money was soon all\ngone.\" She paused, struggling with a sudden sob. \"Hermann Deutch, to\nstay on he had lost his position, and he took one that was poor but in\nNaples, to be near me. He was all that came near us, who had word or\ndealing with us, while my mother grew too weak to live. When she, too,\ndied, I married him. There was the scandal, sir, to account for my\nmarriage.\"\nShe looked with deep, mild scorn at Kane. He remained imperturbable,\nwhile Herrick blushed for him.\n\"There was one thing more. Mr. Deutch had spent much for us and before\nhe could take me from Naples he must save something from what work he\nhad. One month came upon another in that terrible city and we had not\ngone. So the time came when I, like other women, thought to have a\nchild. One night there were fire-works at the seashore and, to liven my\nmind, he made me go. As we came home there was a lonely bit of beach,\nthough toward the cars. Out of the dark a voice called some words at us\nand something fell--it rang on a stone at our feet. They had thrown a\nkind of dagger. Sirs,\" said Mrs. Deutch, \"it was a triangular knife.\"\nKane gave a cry with a strange note of satisfaction.\nBut the tears were running down Mrs. Deutch's face. \"The shock and the\nfear, they were too much for me. I never bore my child. God has never\ngiven me a child to love except Christina. Tell me what all this can be\nto her?\"\n\"Do you know what aphasia is, Mrs. Deutch? And doesn't Mr. Deutch\nsuffer, occasionally, from a confusion of words?\"\n\"Not so much that it could be called by a name. Except that one time.\nMr. Deutch has been all his life an excited man. And when that knife\nfell at my feet he was like one crazed. Then he forgot language, sir,\nand could not speak well for days. English and German he ran together,\nand what of French he knows with what Italian. Though he knew well what\nhe wished to say. And there is yet a smear in his brain where the words\nmay sometimes a little mix together. But--Christina?\"\n\"Mrs. Deutch, what did all this suggest to you? Of what did you think\nyou were the victims?\"\n\"Imagine yourselves that it was in a time of one of those outcries\nagainst Jewish people which come like stupid fever as though nations,\nignorantly, have eaten too much in strong sun. They needed to blame some\none and, just then, in blaming us they could blame as they would.\"\n\"H'm!--Do either of you know what happened at the Tombs this afternoon?\"\n\"The papers say that Mr. Denny has tried to kill himself.\"\n\"Well, and very obliging of them. But, for a desperate man, he gave\nhimself rather queer wounds--scratches in the shoulder and arm. The\nguard ran for the doctor and seems to be running yet. But where was our\nsuicide really cut to the bone? On the insides of his hands!\"\nHe had produced his sensation.\n\"The guard was one of the new Italian contingent. And the blow aimed by\nan Italian, then, at the prisoner's heart and caught by his arm, was\ngiven with a triangular knife!\"\nThey were all three on their feet.\n\"I'm sorry, Mrs. Deutch, for my opening gallery play with you. I didn't\nknow the tragedy I was running into. And our friend Herrick, here, and\nthe excellent Wheeler both tried to hoodwink me to-night when I asked\nthem straight questions. You're going to tell me the truth, I know, for\nnow I'm telling it to you. We got hold of your husband at the\nPennsylvania Station. Our intelligent police tried to frighten him with\nthe stab of Denny's triangular prick and they succeeded in putting him\nclean out of the game with aphasia--sensory aphasia. Word\nblindness--speech or writing--heavens, what a gag! But don't be alarmed;\nfortunately it goes with a perfectly clear mind and it's only temporary.\nOnly--time's everything! Well, it gave me the cue to come up here and\ndig for some three-cornered mystery, blackmailing if procurable, in\nDeutch's life. Every District-Attorney his own detective! Yes--when it's\nthis District-Attorney and this crime--Amen! Amen!--What is it?\"\n\"Oh, sir, the Italian!\"\n\"Yes?\"\n\"All morning one hung about the house of Mrs. Hope. Not coming near, but\nwatching, watching. A little, slim, soft, pretty man, in gentleman's\nclothes. And it made her afraid.\"\n\"Ah!\"\n\"Look here, the fellow in the park--the one with the message--he was an\nItalian! They all were!\"\n\"Exactly! Now--Mrs. Deutch, what was that old secret in the life of the\nHopes which turned the daughter into a cynic and a hater of social\nconventions? Ah, come, please!\"\n\"Oh, sir, that was not a great thing!\"\n\"What was it?\"\n\"The sister of Mr. Hope found letters from him--old letters when\nChristina was fourteen--written to her who was afterwards his wife. The\nmarriage had been so long forbidden, they were driven to see each other\nso seldom, secretly, alone, and in strange places. Sir, they were in\nlove and they were very young.\"\n\"This was not known till Christina was fourteen?\"\n\"No, sir.\"\n\"Then her birth was, of course, legitimate.\"\n\"Oh, of a surety!\"\n\"And this was all?\"\n\"All!\"\nHerrick found himself listening with a strange excitement. He could not\nhave told why he had a sudden sense of having touched a spring. That\nbrief revelation of rash love--what was there in that? Such a thing\nmight loom large in a society novel; in the vast, mixed, multitudinous\nlife of men and women it was small enough. How could it arrest his\nattention at a time like this? As though some small, mysterious,\nirrelevant key had been slipped into his hand! By the fleeing figure of\nMrs. Hope? That amiable, vacant, and correct lady, how could any young\nand long-dead folly of hers, reaching across a generation, strike down\nIngham and shatter a little world? \"The little pitted speck\"--What was\nthat? What was he remembering now? \"The wages of sin are more sinning!\"\nWhy, that was the motto he had taken for his novel? Sin? Nonsense! \"The\nlittle pitted speck in garnered fruit that, rotting inward,--\"\nHe woke himself roughly to hear Mrs. Deutch adding, \"But they lived with\nthat hard woman, she and her mother, in poverty. And to have it nagged\nat and flaunted at the mother, it made her a morbid child. No more. But\nnow, sir, the Italians?\"\n\"The Italians, indeed! Mrs. Deutch, as you owe them such a grief, as you\nbelieve in justice and the protection of the weak, as you have had\nenough of government by the triangular knife, give me the name of your\nChristina's Italian host!\"\nCHAPTER III\nSEARCH-LIGHTS FLASHED IN THE EYES: KANE'S STORY\n\"Well, for one thing,\" Kane said, \"no mortal creature ever looked at\nthat girl and thought her a quitter.\" He was standing at Ingham's table,\nwrinkling his eyebrows at the storied blind. \"I've come within the\nfascinations of that young person myself, but I don't think it's\ninfatuation which makes me say that she didn't drop down in a dead faint\nyesterday afternoon, just to pass the time. When those clear eyes of\nhers looked at that lock of hair she learned something that astonished\nand horrified her. From that moment she made up her mind to go somewhere\nand, at the appointed hour, go she did. Devil take her for not confiding\nin Mrs. Deutch! She meant, I daresay, to return. But she must have been\ngreeted with the news of the moving picture advertisement and thought\nherself very well off where she was. Eventually, she'll pull some string\nfrom there.\"\nHe began putting out all lights but the table-lamp.\n\"I fancied, at first, the mother had followed, for she lied about going\nto Europe. We've had every steamship and railway line watched since long\nbefore she left, so she's not beyond the scope of trolleys. But she'd\nonly be a nuisance to the girl, nor is she one to pursue risks--more\nlikely, she just skipped out early to avoid the rush. All sorts of\nintimidating things have happened lately; then, last night, Christina\nthreatened her with some exposure, this morning she was frightened by an\nItalian, and the climax has been capped by whatever it was Deutch told\nher--Don't jump! No, I'm no mind-reader. But I had, of course, the\nDeutch apartment, as well as yours, wired for a dictograph. Useful thing\na dictograph--especially when there are ladies about!\"\nWith a happy indifference to the effect of this statement upon Herrick\nhe cast about the room, appearing to sniff up its suggestions and to\ncompare them with a vision in his mind's eye. Absorbed, elate, on edge,\ntingling with some suspended energy, as he raised the blind and peered\nout he radiated a good humor somehow inhuman.\n\"That wasn't a taxi? I'm expecting a couple of my boys and,\" he grinned,\n\"poor Ten Euyck!\" He disappeared, bent on examining the bedroom.\nHerrick still stood, dumb and raging, with his back against the door. In\nhis impotent rebellion against Kane's inferences he had been almost\nindifferent to the fateful setting of the new scene in that night's\nhurrying kinetoscope. But slowly this had begun to assume its natural\nimaginative sway. There were the dim blue walls framed in their outline\nof smooth, black wood. There before him was the long white blind; to his\nleft the piano where Ingham had sat playing; by stretching out his right\nhand he could touch the porti\u00e8res of the room in which they had found\nIngham's body. It was all in order now. The cushions of the couch had\nbeen smoothed and set up. The chair that had lain overturned beside the\ntable had been stood in its proper place, at the edge of the porti\u00e8res,\nnear the door. The newspapers and ashes, the siphon and half-empty glass\nhad been cleared away. The little puddle by the piano stool, too, was\ngone. All was in order; Ingham's hand might have been about to draw\nthose porti\u00e8res, he might have stepped between them to tell--what? What,\nthe poor fellow persisted, was there to tell? He knew the secret of the\nshadow on the blind, the secret of the shot in Ingham's breast. Only\nthe one thing was unknown--Who had contrived to bolt the door? That he\nhad always felt the puzzle's essence and its answer; there stole through\nhim again that sense of a skeleton still locked within those walls to be\ndiscovered with some recognizing shock; once more his fancy began to\nsearch through those hollow rooms in desperate hope, driven by that\nsuperstition, by the obstinate unreason with which a starving hand\ncontinues to fumble in an empty pocket. Futilest of occupations! The\nsense of shamed stupidity, of failure in Christina's cause, warned him\nwith a squelching sneer that he was the merest pawn in Kane's hand and\nthat the room would yield its secret, if it had one, to Kane and not to\nhim. At any rate, how could that secret find Christina? And, if he were\nnot looking for Christina, what was he doing there?\nAs he turned to go it was Kane who came back through the porti\u00e8res and\nsaid, \"Sit down, for heaven's sake! Don't stand there glaring at me as\nif I were Ingham's corpse!\"\nThe sharpness of his entrance suggested something.\nHerrick answered with his hand on the knob, \"I'm virtually a prisoner, I\nsuppose?\"\n\"Oh, don't you care to sit out the show?\"\n\"If I left here should I be arrested?\"\n\"Arrested's an exaggeration.\"\n\"I should be shadowed, then?\"\n\"Well, my dear fellow, there've been so many disappearances! And you're\nso near the storm-center--you make such a sensitive barometer!\"\nHerrick dropped on to the couch as a mouse might give itself up to a cat\nand leaned forward, frowning, motionless.\n\"It's a great game, this, of 'Vanishing Lady'! But I don't mind telling\nyou that it's the Italian background to the vanishings that interests\nus. An obscure young girl--but a great friend of Christina Hope's--is\nthe first to vanish. She sends an appeal for aid to Christina Hope,\nthrough the Arm of Justice.\n\"A publisher--betrothed to Christina Hope--receives blackmailing letters\nfrom the Arm of Justice, and is murdered.\n\"A young author--also betrothed to Christina Hope--is attacked. But, as\na victim, proves a failure.\n\"An actor--also--well, also an old friend of Christina Hope, and said to\nhave been recently in love with the vanished Nancy Cornish is arrested\nfor Ingham's murder. And what happens? S-s-z-boum! A cluster of\nrespectable and comfortable persons scatter for the ends of the earth.\nWhile, ahead of them all, pop goes the beauty! In a white and silver\ndress. So she didn't go farther than the embrace held wide open to\nreceive her.\"\n\"You mean, of course, the Arm of Justice?\"\n\"Of course.\"\n\"What are you trying to do with me?\" Herrick snarled.\nKane answered with great deliberation, \"I'm trying to save you, you\nyoung fool!\"\n\"Spare yourself wasted time. What does all this matter to me? What does\na lot of gab matter? I've heard enough of it to-night, God knows! But\ndoes it tell me anything? You're all full of suggestions, but where is\nshe? Do something if you know how--find her, find her! She's in danger,\nthat's all that matters! Where is she? Where is she?\"\n\"You talk about danger! And you want _me_ to find her?\"\n\"Has Denny retained you, then?\"\n\"Oh, you poor kid!--Now, Herrick, I know your place in life. I studied,\none term, under your father. I breathe familiarly the air of Brainerd,\nConnecticut. Corey and old Ingham are friends of mine. This muss\nof--Paah! Come out of it, Herrick, it isn't good enough! She in her\nrotten world and you--Oh, all right!\"\nKane rose and went again to the window. \"Rain's held up.\" He looked at\nhis watch. Strolling back to his chair he fixed his eyes on Herrick,\nacross his interwoven knuckles.\n\"But you've listened so willingly to Wheeler and to Mrs. Deutch, why not\nlisten to me? I've something of a confession to make, myself. Do you\nknow what it is to be possessed by a mania?\"\nA man with a mania!\n\"I heard Ten Euyck call you that, the first time I ever saw you.\"\n\"Good! A man with a mania, a prosecutor with a pet criminal! But he\ndidn't mention the criminal? Allow me--the Arm of Justice!\"\nHerrick's pulse gave a mad leap and he slowly raised his head.\n\"You've taken that business, all along, as just a mask for some\ndesperate amateur. Then, too, you were all thrown off the track--and\nsmall wonder!--by those literate, unbusinesslike letters in idiomatic\nEnglish. A lady's letters, in fact!--My dear fellow, a very real and\ndefinite 'Arm of Justice,' a low-lived little gang that sunny Italy knew\nhow to get rid of, has made its living at blackmailing certain gutters\nof ours for a generation. What nobody but your humble servant has\nbelieved is that this more stylish business, using our language and\ndwelling very evidently in our midst, has any connection with the\noriginal A. of J. beyond borrowing its title from the police reports.\nNot for the first time! See here! The Arm of Justice started life as the\nhumblest little blackguard gang, extorting money from low-class\nItalians. It was like all its class, strictly minding its own business\nin its own nationality and considered worth nobody's while to catch. But\nto my mind about four years ago this violet by a mossy stone burst out\nlike a sunflower. To my mind, it was this very same Arm of Justice\nwhich abandoned every precedent by entering, with one bound, into\nAmerican life.\"\nHis look seemed to ring with triumph, but his voice kept a cold edge.\n\"No Italian gang, real or bogie, big or little, had ever thrown its\nshadow there. But the Arm of Justice flew high, carried the new\nterritory at a rush, and struck at the very proudest families in New\nYork, the most powerful individuals!\"\n\"But how? How?\"\n\"Ah, if I knew! What's its source of information? How does it get hold\nof those unhappy secrets that its owners guard like Koh-i-noors? Well,\nmen will tell a good deal to a woman--and those were a woman's letters,\nHerrick! Once it gets its secret it starts a correspondence. How often\nit has succeeded, grabbed its hush-money and retreated, of course I\ndon't know. But when its advances are rejected it abandons its\ntypewriter and calmly prints a scant edition of a dirty little rag\ncalling itself _The Voice of Justice_ and telling the blackmailing\nstory. It then mails marked copies through various New York post offices\nto the family, friends and enemies of its victims--the three before\nIngham were all of Knickerbocker standing. What a revenge! What a\nprestige for next time such a threat gave it! The desire of my life is\nto smash that printing-press!\"\n\"But it followed up the Ingham business with letters alone?\"\n\"There you are--the whole Ingham business is a departure! Observe that\nuntil Ingham's death the English-speaking branch of the business never\ncommitted itself to violence; it caused four tragedies in four years,\nbut it simply pressed the button of exposure and its vengeance came off\nautomatically. The first time a young girl went crazy. The second there\nwas a divorce and the wife shot herself. And the third time a bad\nstumble, lived down for twenty years by a fine old friend of mine, a\njudge of the highest standing who had made himself an honorable\ncharacter, was exposed to such relentless political foes that this\noffice had to prosecute. Well, Mrs. Deutch's father isn't the only\ngentle soul who's died in jail!\"\nKane's voice had risen in hot anger. \"Perhaps you think I ought to be\ngrateful--thank them for doing my work! Am I to do theirs, then? Execute\ntheir orders, their sentences? Make my office the tool of cowards and\ncriminals worse than those I convict? Ah, my boy, that did turn me into\na monomaniac! Is there anything I wouldn't give to break that particular\nbone in the Arm of Justice?--to lay hands on the real villain of that\nlittle evening party in these rooms that night--not the one who fired\nthe shot but who prompted it! Believe me, the death of Ingham was a\nslip, an accident, bitterly repented. Some last new element got in this\ntime and got in wrong. The Arm was using a new tool and pushed it\nfarther than it dreamed the tool would go. The English-speaking branch,\nalways so careful not to commit murder--I could almost be thankful for\nthis time--it's put a definite, popular crime into my hand! And now the\npoor fools've lost their heads! They that were so cautious, they're\nfollowing one sensation with another. They've tried anything,\neverything, to get clear! They've only floundered further and further\nin! And now they're wild as rats in a trap!\"\n\"Like rats in a trap!\" There it was again! \"The wages of sin is more\nsinning!\" Good heavens, what was his novel to him, now?\n\"Still people don't believe me. They can't credit that a single criminal\ngang has its feet in the slums, its hand in the pocket of Fifth Avenue,\nand its head--well, for instance, on Broadway. Naturally, it wants a\nconnecting thread. I was so keen after that, even before I came into\noffice, that they used to call me The Blackhander and say I ought to\nwrite a comic opera. Well, Italy's an operatic nation! And this great\nbrat of a city, that thinks there's nothing doing in the world but\nAnglo-Saxon temperaments, embezzling and baseball games, doesn't know\nwhat it may get up against! I'm sure if I can nab either end of the\nskein it will carry conviction. But unfortunately even the Eastsiders\nnever gave us a map of their whereabouts. There are about seven hundred\nItalians in New York who might be called professional gangsters and very\nlikely a cozy, private little affair like the A. of J. but murmurs, 'We\nare seven.' So I've never been able to put the slightest Italian accent\non those illustrious letters till I saw the body of your gunman from\nCentral Park. Encouraging though not overwhelming evidence! But the\nknife that stuck in Denny's arm is a bigger business.\"\nHe might well congratulate himself, Herrick inwardly groaned, over the\ncolor and the emphasis liberally supplied him in the story of Mrs.\nDeutch.\n\"Of course, you understood what had happened? The farmer had refused\ntoll to the brigands who governed the south so capably in those days.\nThey killed his child, leaving their mark on it as a warning that toll\nmust be paid. The poor wine-merchant attempted to set the authorities on\nthat sign. The authorities were too weak to take up the gage, and, of\ncourse, a stranger and a Jew made an easy scape-goat. But the brother\ndidn't take warning from the father's fate. Then the mark on him warned\nthe countryside that the family was taboo. They became simply lepers.\nNot, this time, because the people were religious bigots nor social\nasses but because they were scared stiff. Every one connected with the\ntabooed strangers must have dreaded some brigand dictum. Every Gabrielli\nmay have squirmed under that thumb for many a year. Whatever she\nromantically believes, her fianc\u00e9's family simply dared not, for their\nlives, receive Henrietta. Nobody dared, except, apparently, our little\nfriend, Hermann Deutch. Hats off--I salute Hermann! Really, for an\nexcited man--! But how's that for the nationality of the three-cornered\nknife? The nation's pitched it out, over there; and now, to-day, in the\ncity of New York, in the city's jail, in broad daylight, some descendant\nof this agreeable Sicilian clan uses the same weapon to silence a wiry\ngentleman who turns out a bit too much for him--being a little on the\nSicilian order himself! But isn't that a sign of something doing between\nthe slums and Broadway? For what were they afraid Denny would tell? Why\ndid they wish to silence him except for what he could tell of a certain\nlady?\"\nHerrick rose, lighted a cigar and flicked out the match with steady\nfingers. \"And you picture Miss Hope as The Queen of the Black Hand?\"\nThis pleasantry was delivered with such a raucous and guttural attempt\nat quiet satire that Kane returned to earth and smiled.\n\"Put in that way it's comic opera, indeed. But it's the tune that makes\nthe song. I know how crass the thing seems. Good heavens, says common\nsense, in what century are we living? And who believes in comic opera?\nWhat's the clue? What's the connecting thread that can reach from the\nlowest dives of the East Side, out of another country and another race,\nand mix with the grandeurs of so extremely well-known and high-flying a\nyoung lady, on the very day that she becomes a world-celebrity? What's\nthe answer?\"\nThe extreme nonchalance of Herrick's voice shook a little as he\nremarked, \"That's up to you, isn't it?\"\n\"It's bound to lie in some dangerous indiscretion of her youth. She's\nhad hard struggling years, in which her temper was still luxurious--a\nyouth that's ambitious is never too scrupulous--if she had a friend\nunscrupulous by profession--And yet I was so sure they had got hold of\nher by some secret of her mother's! The Hope honeymoon took place in\nItaly--but, in that day, so did everybody's! After all, perhaps they had\na closer clutch. What do we inevitably find in the pasts of all very\nyoung, very beautiful and very successful actresses? We find a dark and\nearly husband. Italians whose humbler connections still sojourn in\ntenements are often highly ornamental and blackmailers aren't branded,\nyou know, to keep them out of matrimony. Well, whatever the start,\nwhether she was coaxed in or threatened or married, forced by poverty or\nblackmail, she's made them a wonderful--Do you know the thieves' slang\nof Naples? And the term 'basista'?\"\n\"A basista's a sort of fence, isn't he? A confederate on the outside?\"\n\"A good deal more. A basista, without being a member of the gang, is the\ninvaluable unsuspected spy in the camp of the victims, who loots\nprofitable news and sends it in. He or she is sometimes the brilliant\namateur director, the educated person with an outlook, the Adviser\nPlenipotentiary. A dramatic-minded young lady with extravagant tastes\nand some kind of righteous grudge against society might hardly realize\nat first what she was doing--and oh, how she has struggled to be rid of\nit, since! Naturally, she's become worth double to them. And she's\nrecently furnished them with such a hold that, so far from getting\nclear, I fancy she was pushed to furnish them with another victim; that\nif it hadn't been for the moving-picture another person would soon have\nreceived an Arm of Justice letter, and that person Cuyler Ten Euyck.\nWhat do you think of my thread?\"\n\"Pretty thin, isn't it?\"\n\"Wait, encouraging youth! You'll be grateful some day! Come, I'll show\nyou my hand! Ever since the inquest it has been perfectly clear to the\nunprejudiced mind that Christina Hope was in that room when Ingham was\nshot. It was perfectly evident that she was shielding somebody. We say,\nnow, that she was shielding Denny. When we began to suspect Denny we had\nto run down his friend, Christina Hope, who left behind her a scarf\nbordered with the color in which, through his craze for her, Ingham's\napartment was decorated--a color which up to the time of the murder she\nwore so constantly that it was like a part of her personal effect, and\nwhich she has never worn since.\"\nThe color was all about them--blue-gray. What could that have to do with\nthe shimmer of a dummy pistol, scratched upon whose golden surface\nHerrick once more confronted the initial \"C\"? But he did not put this\nquestion to the District-Attorney. And it was Kane who continued. \"Shall\nI treat you to a bit of ancient history; shall I reconstruct for you the\nmovements of Miss Hope on the night of the fourth of August?\"\n\"As you please.\"\n\"She testified to have dined at home. So she did; but with so poor an\nappetite that the maids said to each other that she had really dined\nearly somewhere else. She testified to being ill and out of sorts; so\nshe was. But she was incited by this being out of sorts to something\nvery different from the languor to which she testified. Far from having\nbade Ingham farewell forever she called him up at the Van Dam on an\naverage of every half hour, as well as at his club, and at two\nrestaurants which he frequented. Failing to find him, at eleven o'clock\nshe did, indeed, go to the post-box and mail a letter; but at twenty\nminutes past eleven she was waiting in a taxi outside the theater where\nDenny was rehearsing and sent in a message, without any concealment of\nher name, that she wished to speak to him. He sent out word that he was\nengaged. An hour later she was there again, and not believing the back\ndoorman who told her that he had left, she stopped Wheeler, who had\nbeen inside, and besought him to get Denny to speak to her. He replied\nthat Denny was gone, whereupon she called out to her chauffeur, with\nevery adjuration to hurry, the name of the Van Dam apartment\nhouse--where, say at a quarter after one, you, Herrick, saw her shadow\non the blind. According to Joe Patrick she was the first on the\nspot.--Was she the last there, too?\"\nHerrick paused in a long stride; with his bones slowly freezing in him\nhe turned and faced the District-Attorney.\n\"If Denny loved her and went there on her account did he shoot down\nIngham before her eyes? Or did she run out, as she suggested at the\ninquest, and Denny shoot Ingham as he turned to follow her? There's your\nchance, Herrick, prove that! Mr. Bird tells us when our prisoner came\nin. But, before all and everything, when did he come out?\"\nHe had a way for which Herrick could have slain him, of driving points\nhome with a smile.\n\"But suppose, now, she did most of the loving on her own account.\nIngham, to a certainty, had found out her connection with the Arm of\nJustice, when it tried to blackmail him through her. From the row you\nheard between them he's likely to have been threatening her with\nexposure. Suppose Denny's story is straight and when he found her there\nwith Ingham he just turned and walked off. Was Ingham a man to refrain\nfrom threatening to send his revelations, first of all, to a man who had\ntreated him so cavalierly? Is she a girl to stop short of the desperate\nin preventing him? Isn't she one to avenge herself in advance? It may\nnot have been wholly in revenge. Ingham was himself a wild revengeful\nfellow who sometimes had too much to drink. He may have provoked her\neven to bodily fear. If he guessed such a thing do you think Denny would\nnot keep silence? I see it strikes you.\"\nIt seemed to him as if it struck the life out of his heart over which\nhe folded his arms. \"Try somebody else,\" he said, in defiance of the\nlittle clasps of proof which he could hear snapping into each other,\n\"next time you accuse her.\"\n\"Yes, I'll try Deutch. I gave her every doubt till I heard of his\nsecret. Is it possible you don't know what he found? And is it possible\nthat you don't see a preparation for emergency in her taking such pains\nto establish--well, not an alibi, but a substitute?--A mysterious\nunknown lady with the most conspicuous physical attributes, in whose\nperson this admirable actress appears before Joe Patrick as the\nred-headed murderess of the drama on the front stairs, before, on the\nback stairs, with which she appears to be so familiar, she resumes\nherself and turns to see what can be done with Ingham! That's the worst\npoint in the story of a distracted girl, pushed to the wall, driven past\nher last stand, maddened by a suddenly enlightened and too cruel Ingham,\nhounded by her friends, the Arm of Justice, to their work; herself no\nmore--as I was once no more!--than a trigger pulled by their hand! No\nwonder they've had a firmer hold on her than ever since that night, and\nshield her, now, with all their care because in doing so they shield\nthemselves!\"\n\"That's what you think, is it?\"\n\"It's what I fear--and it's what you fear! Or--what's a\nDistrict-Attorney to a lover?--you'd have knocked me down long\nago!--There's not a man of you, knowing the girl, in whose mind, in\nwhose pulse, it hasn't been from the first hour! Yet there's not one of\nyou who hasn't sacrificed Denny to her without a scruple. One man in the\nend won't do it. I mean Denny himself. He, too, is prepared to go\nextraordinary lengths not to betray her. He will deny, of course, that\nit was she who was there that night. But I rely on one thing. He knows\nthat in the State of New York he can not plead guilty to murder in the\nfirst degree. And he won't send himself up for anything less. He's not\nafraid of death, but he's mortally afraid of prison--it gets on every\none of his nerves. And he seems to have a great many of them. If they\nare ground on the idea of jail so that they break they may break quite\ncontrary to poor Deutch's--they may set him talking! Ah, if he and\nDeutch could happen to meet; those two temperamental persons!--Here, in\nthis room, in the night, now when neither of them are quite themselves,\nwhat a start they might get! What mightn't it shake out of\nthem?--There's one final thing the person who shot Ingham, the person\nwho was last with him in this room, alone, can tell me--How came that\ndoor bolted? Whatever Denny guesses, you'll find he won't guess me\nthat!--Come in!\"\nHe conferred with some one on the threshold. \"Ask Inspector Ten Euyck to\ncome up.\" Turning back to take his place at the library table he\nmotioned Herrick to a seat. \"Pity the sorrows of a poor policeman whose\nlegal sense is too strong to let him ask a single question of an accused\nman, yet who was born to be the head of the Inquisition and looks at the\nprisoner with a deep desire quite simply to tear him open! The prisoner\nis well held together with surgeon's plaster, but the poor Inspector's\npride in his profession is suffering horribly from the inadequate\nconduct of his city's jail to-day and of our detectives' search.--Here\nwe are!\"\nA group of young men appeared in the doorway, with Ten Euyck looming\nlike a damaged monument in their wake. Civility and self-control forced\nthemselves on Herrick. He and Ten Euyck sniffed each other, wary as\nstrange dogs, their spines beginning to rise. \"Inspector,\" said Kane,\n\"cheer up!\" And indeed the funereal quality in that gentleman's\nappearance had greatly increased. He sat down, as directed, but when he\nlooked at Herrick he had to turn his growl into a cough and when he\nlooked at Kane he winced. It was evidently not alone the errors of the\nTombs and the police department which had bowed his head. It was the\nknowledge of last night. His magnificent storm coat could not hide his\nriddled dignity. Only by the sight of Christina in his grasp could he\nget his dignity back again.\n\"Ten Euyck, I sent for you because this is so largely your affair, but\nyou are not going to be asked to do anything immoral. I am about to\nexamine a witness, but with no illegal questions nor shall I force him\nto testify against himself. He is only going to be asked about another,\na missing witness. Your legal mind doesn't quarrel with his being hard\npushed in that direction? I thought not!\"\nTen Euyck exclaimed, eagerly, \"But Deutch can't talk yet!\"\n\"Deutch? Did you think I meant Deutch? There is some one dearer to\nChristina Hope than her dear Deutches and still nearer to the habits of\nher life. I mean a gentleman who can talk but won't. Ah, brighten up Ten\nEuyck--he shall be got to! He may be ignorant of certain amiable\nItalians as criminal characters, it's inconceivable he can be ignorant\nof them as Christina Hope's familiar friends. He mayn't be able to tell\nme the secret of their lives. But he can give me their address. And he\nwill.\"\nThey were all grouped about the long table: Kane at its center, facing\nthe window; Ten Euyck and Herrick bearing with each other at one end;\nHolt, an assistant of Kane's, between him and Ten Euyck; to his right, a\nstenographer with a short-hand pad. The end of the table was still\nvacant. Kane's own doorman stood on the threshold.\n\"Wade, have you got Mrs. Deutch? Please step into the bedroom, Mrs.\nDeutch. Sit down comfortably, keep silent and listen to everything.--I\nwant to remind you all that, wise as our witness is, there are some\nthings he doesn't know. So far as we know he has never connected the\nCornish girl's disappearance with the blackmailers. He's not supposed to\nknow there are any blackmailers. And, for certain, he's seen no papers\nnor been allowed to talk with any one. He doesn't know that Christina\nHope has disappeared! He doesn't know that New York has seen a\nmoving-picture!\" Turning to the man at the door Kane said, \"Bring in\nWilliam Denny.\"\nCHAPTER IV\nA LIGHT ALONG THE ROAD: DENNY GIVES AN ADDRESS\nHerrick felt the strong light of the one lamp like something hypnotic;\nit reminded him of the glare in some Sardou or Belasco torture chamber.\nIt seemed to him that the scene wasn't real; it was like a council of\nwolves and he powerless and quiet with them there, as they hungered to\nrun, baying, on Christina. It was only a nightmare and yet it was more\nreal and keen than life, and only God knew what would come of it! Then\nhe saw the slight, dark figure pass the door; every eye, but with what\ndifferent desires, turned, ravenous as his, for the secret that it\ncarried in its breast.\nThe doorman brought Denny up to the end of the table and withdrew. The\nprisoner was very carefully dressed, his black hair brushed as smooth as\nsatin, and against his dark blue coat the black silk handkerchief that\nsupported his arm was scarcely noticeable. He looked a model of rigid\ndecorum until you observed the heavy straps of plaster across his hands.\nOnly his skin, always dark and pale, seemed really to be drained of\nblood. He nodded gravely to Kane, and with a sort of still surprise to\nHerrick. Ten Euyck he passed over. He remained standing until Kane told\nhim to sit down. If he then dropped rather wearily into a chair he\ncontrived to sit upright, with a good show of formal manners. As his\ndark eyes met the keen light ones of the lawyer a faint, derisive smile\nappeared, and was instantly suppressed, upon both their faces.\n\"You seem very sure of yourself!\" Ten Euyck exploded.\nDenny appeared to become slowly conscious of him. \"Even the persuasive\nmanners of your department,\" he said, \"couldn't make me tell what I\ndidn't know!\"\nTen Euyck said quickly, \"You don't know who killed Ingham?\"\n\"If I said anything more incriminating, it's possible it might be used\nagainst me.\"\n\"We're not here,\" Kane interposed, \"to discuss Ingham's death. Mr.\nDenny, within the last few days there have been some very grave\noccurrences, about which it's possible you can enlighten us. If you can,\nwe shan't be ungrateful. Did you ever hear of an organization called the\nArm of Justice?\"\n\"Is this a joke?\"\n\"You never heard of it?\"\n\"No.\"\n\"Well, then, you can have no objection to repeating the name and address\nof Miss Hope's Italian friends?\"\n\"Not the least in the world. Has she any?\"\n\"You mean to tell me you don't know she has?\"\n\"Not if it annoys you. I thought you asked.\"\nTen Euyck, with a gesture as of uncontrollable impatience, rose and went\nto the window.\n\"Since you're in a jocular mood, I will ask you something you may think\nextremely amusing. Do you know if Miss Christina Hope owns a red wig?\"\nHe didn't think it amusing. He seemed to think little enough about it.\n\"I suppose so.\"\n\"But you never saw one about her house?\"\n\"She wouldn't keep it about her house, like a pet. She'd keep it in a\ntrunk. She's not an amateur.\"\n\"You never saw her wear one in private life?\"\n\"Not even on the first of April.\"\n\"You couldn't even swear she had one, perhaps.\"\n\"I certainly could not.\"\n\"Nor that she had not?\"\n\"No.\"\n\"So that you wouldn't recognize hers if you saw it?\"\n\"No.\"\nThe light was very strong upon his face, which remained relaxed and\ntranquil. But he was very weak and a faint moisture broke out upon it.\n\"Was there any love affair between you and Miss Hope which angered Nancy\nCornish?\"\n\"No.\"\n\"Don't lie to me!\"\nDenny drew in his breath a little. But he did not speak.\n\"What was your trouble with Nancy Cornish?\"\nSilence.\n\"Didn't she quarrel with you because of some woman?\"\nSilence.\n\"You know she did. You can't deny it. Do you know what many of your\nfriends are saying? That you kept that appointment with her and got rid\nof her. They think you were tired of her and preferred Christina Hope!\"\n\"Do they?\"\nIt had missed fire utterly. Yet, since the mention of that other girl, a\nkind of hunger had been growing in his face, and suddenly Kane wholly\nveered on that new track.\n\"But I don't!\" said Kane, leaning toward him, and trying to catch and\nhold his eye. \"I think you really care for Nancy Cornish, whether she's\nalive or dead!\" He paused. \"I think you'll end by telling me what you\nknow of the woman whom you'll find parted you.\"\nThe same dead silence; only Denny had closed his eyes.\n\"Come, give me your attention. Look at me, please. Look at me, and\nyou'll see that I'm sincere. Did you hear me say if you can help me I\nshan't be ungrateful? But you can do better for yourself than that. You\ncan simply tell the truth! Tell the truth and you won't need my favor.\nYou'll be free. And you'll have set me in the way to find Nancy Cornish!\nIt isn't possible you prefer to keep this ridiculous silence, to die\nlike a criminal for nothing; or spend fifteen to twenty years in the\npenitentiary--spend life there,--ah, I thought so!\" The\nDistrict-Attorney laughed with triumph at the little straightening of\nDenny's nostrils. \"There's your weak point, my friend! I have never seen\na man to whom the idea of jail was so entirely uncongenial! Get rid of\nit, then! Admit the truth about Christina Hope! What do you owe her? She\nnever even came to me with the witness that she promised.\"\n\"I rather thought she'd have trouble doing that!\"\n\"Because you knew there was no such woman. Or rather that that woman was\nChristina Hope; that she tried to get up courage to incriminate herself\nin your place and failed!\"\n\"You're a bad guesser, Kane!\" Denny said. He had sunk a little forward\nwith his arms upon his knees, and Kane rose and stood over him.\n\"Admit that your whole attitude is dictated simply by loyalty to her.\nYou need be loyal no longer. Has she been near you since you've been in\nthe Tombs?\"\n\"No, you've kept her out. And a fine time you must have had doing it!\"\nTen Euyck turned round and said, \"She's so _fond_ of you, I suppose!\"\nDenny flushed. \"Yes,\" he said, \"she's fond of me. She was born to be a\ngood comrade-in-arms, to carry the flag of a forlorn hope and stand by\nyou in the last ditch. If you gentlemen can't understand that, I'm sorry\nfor you. I can't change her.\"\n\"Exactly,\" Kane said. \"I knew that was your ground. Well, this\ncomrade-in-arms has deserted you altogether. The day she should have\nbrought me that witness, she threw down her engagement and left New\nYork!\"\n\"Oh, guess again!\" said Denny. \"Not while she lived, she didn't!\"\n\"And she took with her,\" Ten Euyck cried, \"forty thousand dollars' worth\nof my diamonds! Perhaps she was in hopes you'd get away and join her!\"\n\"Well,\" said Denny, turning his eyes toward Herrick, without raising his\nhead, \"you!--you're not a criminal!--are you going to stand for that?\"\n\"Doesn't his standing for it speak for itself!\" said Ten Euyck. \"If you\nwant to defend a woman, why don't you come out like a man and confess\nthat you did it yourself.\"\nThey all looked at him in astonishment and, flushing at himself, he\nsubsided.\n\"Ah, thanks, Ten Euyck, that's what I've been suspecting! You think you\ncan trap me into one of your damned confessions with these tricks! Get\nrid of that idea. I'll not confess. It's up to you to prove it; prove\nit! Why should I help you!\" He turned again to Herrick, as if in\njustification. \"Yes, I am afraid of jail! I'm a coward about prison, I\nconfess that! and to give myself up to a lifetime of it--no!--Herrick,\nthere's no chance of their being serious in this talk about Christina.\"\nKane took him by the unwounded shoulder and forced him from his leaning\nposture, till his face came full into the light. \"Upon my word of honor,\nDenny,\" he said, \"Christina Hope has disappeared.\"\nThe shock struck Denny like a sort of paralysis. He did not stir, but he\nseemed to stiffen. His eyes dilated with a horrified amazement. \"What do\nyou mean?\" he said.\nKane handed him that evening's paper, folded to the headlines that dealt\nwith the missing girl. He read them with greed, but it was plain that he\nfound their information stupefying. \"Chris, now! First, Nancy!\" he\nsaid, \"and then, Christina! What is this thing? What can it be? You,\" to\nKane, \"you that are so clever, have you any explanation at all? Have you\nthe least clue? Have you?\" he insisted, and from the dark meaning of\ntheir faces he seemed to kindle, and half rose, leaning on the table.\n\"My God, then,\" he cried, \"what is it? What is it?\"\n\"Well, then,\" said Kane, \"as you yourself suggest, she is very probably\nin the same place with Nancy Cornish.\" Denny continued to lean on the\ntable, looking at him with ravenous eyes. \"You know that Joe Patrick was\nknocked down by an automobile on his way to the inquest, that the same\nso-called accident happened two or three days later to Herrick, here;\nyou know that subsequently four armed men attacked him in the park;\nto-day you had an experience of your own. Well, all these things hang\ntogether and were committed by a band of blackmailers. Your own shoulder\ngives you a taste of their quality. You can judge for yourself what\nthey'll stop at. Brace yourself. We know, now, for a certainty that\nNancy Cornish is in their hands.\"\nDenny continued to lean there, without stirring. \"It's a trick! It's one\nof your little tricks! Is it?\" he said to Herrick with a sudden\nshrillness, \"Is it?\"\n\"One of them brought us a message from her. It said, 'Help me, dear\nChris!'\"\n\"No, no, no!\" said Denny, as if to himself. \"It's a lie. It's all a lie.\nI won't be frightened. I know it's a lie.\"\n\"Is that her writing?\"\nHe cried out, a dreadful, formless sound, and covered his face with his\nhands. Kane's glance said to the others, \"Let him alone! It's working!\"\nHe asked them then, quite gravely and clearly, \"When--do you expect--to\ncatch--this--gang?\"\n\"I don't know that we can catch them at all. We don't know how to get\nat them. We've no idea where they are.\"\nHis hands dropped from his face; it throbbed now and blazed; all the\nnerves had come to life in a quivering network. \"Oh, for God's sake,\" he\nsaid, \"don't tell me that!--Go on, then, go on! Tell me!\" He looked\nbeseechingly and then in a fury of impatience from face to face. \"Don't\nstand gaping! You must know something! Look here, you don't understand!\nYou don't know all I've been through all these weeks--wondering!--If she\nwas in that lake where we used to row! If she'd only gone away, hating\nme! My mind's in pieces trying to think--think--following every sign!\nHundreds of times I've seen her dead! And now you tell me she's alive!\nand calling--calling for help! Do you? Do you?\"\n\"Yes,\" said Kane.\nHe swayed forward so suddenly that he had to catch at the table. \"It's\nhorrible! It's a nightmare!\" With a strange monotonous inflection his\nvoice rose higher and higher on the one strained note. \"It's the thing\nI've dreamed of night and day, week out and in! That she was frightened\nand in danger! With brutes! With the faces of beasts round her! Oh,\nGod--!\"\n\"Don't!\" Herrick cried.\n\"Yes, but look here!\" With an eagerness sudden as a child's, he said to\nHerrick, \"But it's hope! Hope, isn't it? She's alive! And she didn't\njust leave me!--I've got to get out of here! Yesterday--why,\nyesterday--this morning--but now! 'Help me!' she says! I've got to get\nout! I--\" He stopped. The dusky choking red that had surged up horribly\nover his face and forehead receded sharply, and left only his eyes\nburning black in the white incredulous horror of his face. He cried,\n\"There's no way out!\"\n\"There may be,\" said the District-Attorney, \"if you will look very\ncarefully at this lock of hair.\"\nDenny took the soft red curl in a hand that he vainly strove to steady;\nthey could read recognition, but no further enlightenment in his\ntormented face.\n\"Sit down!\" Kane said. \"Untie the string. Shake the hair loose here on\nthe table under the lamp. Now, does anything strike you? No?\"\nOnce more Herrick had that singular impression of Denny's going, for an\ninstant's flash, perfectly blind. Then he said, quite quietly, \"Go! The\nstation you want is Waybrook. Drive five miles inland, on the road to\nBenning's Point; about three miles south of the Hoover estate. The\nleft-hand side of the road; an old house newly fixed up and painted\nyellow. Pascoe's the name. And, for God's sake, go quickly.\"\nThe District-Attorney sat back and wiped his forehead. It had been a\nhard day's work. \"Don't you, Herrick, want to take a look at the\ncuriosity without which I might as well have asked a clam for a Fourth\nof July oration?\"\nThe hair was spread out and thinned under the lamp. And now Herrick\ncould see distinctly that it was of two shades. The outer curl was the\ndark red of Nancy Cornish; hidden within it was a smaller lock of a\nsingularly fine light shade, like the red of golden fire. This it was\nwhich had wrung the address from Denny and stricken down Christina in a\nfaint.\n\"Nancy Cornish hid it there in the message she was allowed to send,\"\nguessed Herrick. \"She was certain Miss Hope would know the head it came\nfrom.\"\n\"Then I needn't point out to a gentleman of your discernment that it was\nthe head which astonished Joe Patrick on the night of Ingham's murder.\nDirectly afterward, I think Miss Hope stored that head, inconspicuously,\nwith her friends in the Arm of Justice.\"\nDenny, rabid with impatience, seemed eating them alive with his savage\neyes. \"Start!\" he bit out. \"Go, can't you? Go! What are you waiting\nfor?\"\nKane looked up at him with a smile of triumphant ice. \"We're waiting for\nyour account of midnight in these rooms between the fourth and fifth of\nAugust. And no one stirs to Nancy Cornish till we get it.\"\nDenny's jaw dropped and he hung against the edge of the table as if he\nwere struck too sick to stand.\nTen Euyck, too, cried out and Kane silenced him. \"Why not--since he says\nhe's innocent?\"\n\"You dog!\" Denny groaned. \"You won't save her?\"\n\"_You_ won't save her--you know how!\"\n\"Lose time and you lose everything!\"\n\"What do you know?\"\n\"Know! Know! Of course I know! But do you think you can make me tell?\nTry that game! Try it! Try! You know damned well you can't! So what'll\nyou give for what I know?\"\n\"You mean--?\"\n\"Come back to me when you've found Nancy Cornish and you shall have your\nmurderer fast enough! Every detail, every fact, every clue! Till then I\ndon't trust you! Bring her here, bring her!\" He leaned forward, beside\nhimself; shaken and exhausted, burning with fever, weak with loss of\nblood, he reached toward Kane and beat the table with his wounded hands.\n\"That's my bargain! That's my price! I'm not going to give up for\nnothing! You don't get my life unless you give me hers--\"\n\"_What?_\"\nThe great gasp broke into a buzz. Denny came slowly to himself and read\nwhat he had uttered in their looks. His face went dead, a cold sweat\nstood out upon it. \"O!\" he breathed. And once more he covered his face\nwith his hands.\nIt didn't take many questions to get his story from him after that.\n\"Yes, I killed him. Yes, I'm confessing. I've got to. All right,--take\nit down. I killed James Ingham. I went to his apartment after my\ndress-rehearsal on the night of the fourth of August. I had been told\nthat he had injured Nancy Cornish. I shot him dead. I've regretted it\nevery moment of my life since then. That's all. What are you waiting for\nnow?\"\n\"Then, Miss Hope--was not in Ingham's rooms that night?\"\nThere was a dead pause. Denny looked hard in Kane's face. \"Yes,\" he\nsaid, \"she was. She came there to try and prevent our quarrel.\" The men\nwho had seen the moving-picture of the shadow breathed again.\n\"What did she do when you fired?\"\n\"I sent her down to the Deutches to get a doctor. I wanted her out of\nthe way, and I switched off the lights so she need not see how useless\nany doctor was!\"\n\"How did you yourself escape?\"\n\"Up the back stairs, across the roof, into the next house.\"\n\"But she went out of the room before you did?\"\nThe earth swam before Herrick's eyes, and then he heard Denny's \"Yes.\"\n\"Then since you were the last to leave, explain how you were able to\nbolt the door behind you?\"\n\"I didn't bolt it behind me. I stayed in the room.\"\nHerrick lifted his head.\n\"I had dropped my revolver and in feeling for it on the rug I got my\nhand stained.\" He spoke lower and lower, but every now and then his\nvoice flickered, licking upward like a flame, and cracked. \"I ran into\nthe bathroom and put it under the faucet, and after that it was too late\nto get away. People were peering and listening from their doors. I got\nin a blind panic--you've noticed I'm upset by jail!--I knew I was\ncornered--I bolted the door. But in doing that I saw how close the\nporti\u00e8res hung.\" Herrick drew a long breath. \"I thought once I could\nclear that outside room a little I could make a dash for it. To do that\nit was necessary to remove the magnet. I dragged Ingham's body into the\nbedroom. The bed's head was toward the porti\u00e8res. I went and stood in\nits shadow, in the porti\u00e8res' folds. Then they burst in. When Deutch\nheld the porti\u00e8re aside for the policeman I was so close at his back\nthat he touched me. When he saw me he screened me almost completely.\nThey had been so obliging as to clear the hall. There was plenty of\nnoise; the men were opening the closet door, a motor whirring, a trolley\npassing the corner; they all had their backs to me, and I made but a\ncouple of steps of it into the hall. A few moments later I had the honor\nand privilege of addressing Mr. Herrick, and of hearing from him that\nthe murderer was a lady and had not been caught.\"\n\"Deutch screened you, you say? Why?\"\nA queer little color came into Denny's face. \"I'm fated to be\nridiculous,\" he said. \"I had seen a hooded cloak of Christina's lying on\nthe table; it was Christina's own blue-gray; just the shade of the\nporti\u00e8res. The hood covered my head. The shadow back there is very deep.\nWell, Deutch knew Christina had been there, you know. He must have left\nhis apartment just before she got to it, for he was simply one funk of\nanxiety about her.\" Denny had to struggle up, for the interview had told\non him terribly, and he kept one hand on the back of his chair. \"I'm of\nno greatly imposing bulk,\" he said. \"And Christina Hope is la tall\nwoman!\"\nA cry came from within the porti\u00e8res. Denny, his self-control utterly\nshattered, flashed round. Henrietta Deutch greeted him with a radiant\nface.\n\"Ah, sirs, thank God! Oh, oh, it was that he saw! Mr. Deutch saw one he\ntook for her! And Christina it could not have been! He was not two\nminutes gone when she was with me!\"\n\"Thanks, Mrs. Deutch! I couldn't have trusted even you for the truth of\nthat point if I'd simply asked you! But we must make sure that was what\nhe saw--that and no other proof. Here's the same depth of shadow, then,\nand the same porti\u00e8res. Take this couch cover, Denny, for a cloak. Stand\nback, and screen your face with it.--Wade, bring in Deutch.\"\nHerrick shuddered and anticipation choked him. This man had suffered so\nmuch for Christina, and now he was to decide her fate! The\nsuperintendent stepped into a silent room. All those eyes fed on him.\nThe place cast its spell of horror. His plump, pale, sagging face\nquivered with dread; his eyes floundered from Herrick to Kane, and a\nkind of dumb moan burst from him. Kane pointed to the porti\u00e8res and his\npanic was complete.\n\"Show him, Herrick. Just as he stood, that night.\"\nHe stood there, dizzy with bewilderment, and suddenly he screamed.\nGasping, he clutched at the porti\u00e8re through which some touch, some\nmotion had repeated for him a dreadful moment. Behind it he once more\nbeheld a dim, blue figure. He fell on his knees, strangling, his breath\nraving and rattling in his mouth, and brought out like a convulsion the\none word \"Christina!\" Sobbing, he caught at a fragment of the cloak and\ncovered it with piteous, protecting kisses. Denny let the cloaking stuff\nfall from him, and, stepping out, broken as a thing thrown away, stood\nin full view with hanging head. Every eye was fastened upon Deutch.\nHe had no need for words. What he had believed himself to have seen,\nwhat he had suffered, the mad relief, the almost ludicrous exultation in\nwhat he now learned, passed one after the other across that tormented\nvisage and broke in one happy blubber as he ducked his head in his\nwife's skirts.\nThe relief that shook Herrick touched, too, every one in the room. No\nman there had really wished to sentence a girl. It was as though, at\nlast, they had all got air to breathe. When into this new air Denny's\nvoice broke with a sick snarl.\n\"And do you think you've saved her? You miserable, gabbling fools, did\nyou think your Arm of Justice was her friend? Why, she knew no more of\nit than you do! If they've got the girl there, she's fighting, accusing,\nthreatening them, she's facing her death! And now in God's name, can you\nhurry? Hurry!\"\nCHAPTER V\nTHE WRONG SIDE OF THE LIGHT: WHERE CHRISTINA WAS\nAt nine o'clock on the morning of Friday, the day when Christina\ndisappeared, there stood at the little interior station of Waybrook,\nawaiting the train from New York, a touring-car which had very recently\nbeen painted black. In the body of this car an observing person might\nhave descried a couple of indentations which, were he of a sensational\nturn of mind, would have suggested to him the marks of bullets. This\ntouring-car was, at that time of day, the only vehicle in waiting, and\nwhen the train rushed on again from its brief pause, only one person had\nalighted from it.\nThis was a tall woman, heavily veiled, wearing a long dark ulster,\nconsiderably too large for her, and a rather shabby black hat. This\nwoman walked directly up to the touring-car and flung herself into it\nwithout a word. When the chauffeur turned and said to her, in surprise,\n\"You all alone?\" she responded, \"Yes. And in twice the hurry on that\naccount!\" The curt command of the words did not conceal the quality of a\nvoice which all the newspapers in New York were that morning praising;\nand the face from which she then lifted her veil, although furrowed with\nanger and ravaged with grief, was the unforgettable face of Christina\nHope. She sat for the five miles which led to her destination with her\neyes closed and her hands wrung tight together in her lap.\nThe touring-car stopped at the gate of an old yellow house, very\ncarefully kept, its bright windows screened by curtains rather elegantly\npretty; and a flagged path leading up to its brass-knockered door. On\neither side of the flagged path stretched a garden, a little sobered by\nits autumn coloring, but still abounding in the country flowers which to\nBryce Herrick's admiration had kept Christina's house so sweet.\nThe door was opened by a small, square, hard-featured, close-mouthed old\nwoman, very neatly dressed, with gray hair and a white apron. In other\nwords, by the occasional cashier at the Italian table d'h\u00f4te. This\nwoman, as the chauffeur had done, looked over Christina's shoulder in\nexpectation and then said, grudgingly, \"Oh, it's you!\"\n\"As you see,\" said Christina, pressing inside. \"But I shan't trouble you\nlong. I should like some coffee, if you please. I've had no breakfast.\"\nThe woman stood still, staring at Christina's ill-fitting clothes and\nsunken eyes, and the girl added, with the same peremptory coldness which\nhad marked her manner from the beginning, \"I must ask you to be quick. I\nhave only come to relieve you of our guest.\"\n\"You have!\" said the old woman. \"Who says so?\"\n\"I think you heard me say so,\" Christina responded, from the foot of the\nstairs.\nThe old woman hurried after her. \"Yes, I daresay. But by whose orders?\"\nChristina turned round. \"Who owns this place?\" she demanded.\n\"Well, you do.\"\n\"Who pays for every mouthful that is eaten here and for everything that\nis brought into this house? Who makes your living for you?\"\n\"You do, I suppose.\"\n\"Well, then, I suppose, by my orders. Where is she?\"\n\"She's in your room, the same as ever.\"\n\"Locked in, of course?\"\n\"Of course.\"\n\"The key, please.\"\nThe old woman hesitated, then she took the key out of her pocket. And at\nthat moment Christina noticed something. There came from the floor above\nthe sound of a voice speaking rapidly, incessantly, and indistinctly\nlike a child talking to itself. An expression of amused and contemptuous\nmalice broke upon the old woman's face and she handed over the key with\ngreater readiness. \"Much good may it do you!\" said she, turning toward\nthe kitchen.\nChristina snatched it and fled upstairs. \"Bring the coffee up here,\nplease,\" she called over her shoulder.\nFor all her haste she paused at the top of the stair, and, with her hand\nover her heart, listened to the babbling voice. Then she turned to the\nright and knocked on a closed door. The voice ran on, heedlessly.\n\"Nancy!\" Christina called. \"Nancy! It's I, Chris! Dear Nancy, I've come\nto take you home.\"\nShe was answered only by the endless repetition of some phrase, and\nunlocking the door, she went in.\nShe stepped into a charming, simple, sunny room, comfortably appointed,\nthe windows open toward the road and their thin, flowery curtains\nstirring in the low, sultry wind. But on the inside of these curtains\nthe windows were completely screened with poultry wire, and, over the\ndoor, the transom was wired, too. In the bed a young, slight girl half\nlay, half sat; her dark red curls had been gathered into a heavy braid\nand her blue eyes were blank with fever; she rocked her head from side\nto side upon the pillow with an indescribable weariness, and without\nbreath, without change, with a monotonous and yet agitated inflection,\nshe repeated over and over again the same phrases: \"No, no, no, no! I\ndon't believe it! Oh, Will, Will, Will, I don't believe it! You did it\nyourself! You did it yourself! You did it yourself! Ask Nancy Cornish!\"\nAnd then, always with a little listening pause, \"I'll promise\nanything!\"\nChristina shrank back against the door-jamb as if she were going to\nfall.\n\"Whatever does this mean? How came she like this? Oh, God!\" she\nbreathed, \"what shall I do? What can I do?\"\n\"Oh, Will, Will, Will!\" said the other voice. \"No, no, no, I don't\nbelieve it!\"\n\"Ah, me!\" Christina breathed. \"Nor I! If only I hadn't been there, and\nseen!\"\n\"You did it yourself! You did it yourself! You did it yourself! Ask\nNancy Cornish!\"\nChristina sank on her knees beside the bed, in an agony of terror and\ntenderness, and for the first time since she had seen the lock of hair,\nher tears poured forth. But she took the girl's hand and held it; and\nshe tried to master those feverish eyes with the eyes of her own\ndespair. \"Nancy!\" she said, \"Nancy! It's Christina. Nancy dear, it's\nChris. Oh, try to know me. Look at me. Listen to me. You must know me.\nYou shall. Nancy, stop it! Stop it and look at me!--Oh, God!\" Christina\nprayed. \"Help me! Help me!\" She caught the sick girl in her arms and\ncovered the young little face with tears and kisses.\nAnd as she held Nancy on her breast she became aware of a thin ribbon\nround the girl's neck, with a key to it. She picked up this strange\nornament, and immediately Nancy's fingers came creeping in search of it\nand she cried out. Christina dropped it and rose to her feet. \"Why!\" she\nsaid aloud. \"It's the key to my desk!\" The desk stood against the wall\nand she tried it. It was locked. Nancy lay almost quiet clutching the\nkey. Christina stood there, puzzled.\nIn a drawer of the dressing-table there was a key much the same in shape\nand size. Christina took it out, drew the ribbon from Nancy's neck, and,\nsteeling her heart, plucked open Nancy's hand. The girl set up a shrill\ncry but was instantly quieted by the substitute key; the old woman\ncould be heard rattling with a tray at the foot of the stairs.\nChristina sprang to the desk and opened it; it was in order and almost\nempty, containing no object that Christina did not know. She pulled open\none after the other of the three little drawers. And thus she came, with\nan amazed start, upon a bulky envelope bearing an address which was the\nlast she could have expected. The envelope was addressed to the\nDistrict-Attorney of New York.\nChristina appropriated it without pause or scruple, slipped it into her\nlittle handbag and restored Nancy's property almost with one swift\nmovement. She was sitting on the edge of the bed in an attitude of\nlistless dejection when the housekeeper entered with the tray.\n\"Well,\" said the old woman, \"why don't you take her? Mebbe everything\nain't just as you expected. What'd she yell out like that for?\"\n\"I touched that ribbon round her neck. What has she got clutched in her\nhand?\"\n\"Oh, just some old trash! Better leave it be. She yells blue murder if\nyou try to take it away from her.\"\nThese two truthful ladies looked down together on the turning head and\nchattering lips and the eyes burning with fever. \"Ain't it a sight?\"\nsaid the old woman. \"It's wonderful what frettin' 'll do. She ain't been\nlike this but since Wednesday. She kep' up surprisin' until then. Guess\nher not hearin' anything from you set her off. She counted on that. I'd\nknow why she sh'd be so terrible set on gettin' away from here. She's\nbeen well treated. When there's been anybody here fit to keep an eye on\nher, she ain't even been locked up. Nicola fastened down the window in\nthe closet where you had the sink put in--y' know, under the stairs?--in\ncase she sh'd take to carryin' on. But mercy me, we found out soon\nenough that wa'n't the idea. She's had the best in the house.--Well,\nyou 'bout scalded yerself.\"\n\"I'm in a hurry,\" said Christina, setting down the empty coffee-cup.\n\"Where are some loose clothes for her?\"\n\"Land sakes!\" said the old woman. \"You want to kill her!\"\nChristina went to a closet and found some skirts and a cloak.\n\"Please go down,\" she said, \"and tell Nicola to put the hood up and let\ndown the rain curtains.\"\nThe old woman's suspicion and resentment had never been allayed, but she\nkept them choked under. \"Well,\" said she, \"I s'pose it's all right. I\nguess she's goin' t' die anyhow. An' I guess it's 'bout the best thing\nshe can do. I dunno what on earth we're goin' t' do with her if she\ndon't. I ain't goin' to stand for any o' them Dago actions. But I dunno\nas I can always put a veto on 'em!--Well, I don't see as you got any\ncall to make such a face as that--seems to me that Denny fellow got a\nlong way ahead o' anything any o' our boys done, if they are Dagoes!\"\n\"Take my message to Nicola, please,\" Christina said, \"and don't stand\nthere talking. Hurry!\"\nThe old woman got as far as the door. \"I s'pose you know's well as\nanybody why she's here!\" she said, intently studying Christina's face.\nShe went out and downstairs muttering. \"But I'd jus' like to know why\nyou're takin' a hand in it! The idea! I guess that Denny feller--\" The\nfront door closed after her; Christina looked out of the window and saw\nher speaking with Nicola.\nShe had Nancy partly dressed, and now wrapped her in the cloak. \"What am\nI to ask you, my poor Nancy? Do you know what he never would tell\nme--how that door came to be bolted?\" The girl's babble kept on\nundiminished. \"God forgive me!\" Christina cried, \"if I do wrong!\" With a\nstrong effort, she lifted the girl in her arms.\nAnd then she was struck still by a sudden sound. It was the sound of the\nautomobile racing down the road.\nShe laid Nancy down and ran to the window; she flew downstairs and\nopened the front door. The rear of the car in which she had arrived,\nspeeding in an opposite direction, was still visible in its own dust.\nHad Nicola gone to borrow rain curtains or some tool? Puzzled, Christina\ncalled to the old woman. \"Mrs. Pascoe!\" Getting no answer she went into\nthe dining-room and from thence to the kitchen; they were empty. Her\nglance scoured the weedy homeliness of the backyard. She went to the\nshed, to the barn; they were deserted. A strange silence had fallen upon\nthe place. In the hot lowering sunshine the girl stood still, and for\nthe first time the cold fingers of suspicion began to creep along her\npulse.\nShe had been very sure of her position, and she felt, as yet, nothing\nthat could be called fear. But the defiance of her authority was amply\nevident. She knew now that she had been a fool to come here alone, to\ndepend entirely on her personal force. But her mouth set itself in a\nsmile like light on steel. Did they know what they were doing when they\npushed her to the wall like this? Perhaps, in some way, they counted on\nthe time it would take her to leave Nancy behind her and go for\nhelp--the nearest house was half a mile away. Leave Nancy behind her!\nFor reply Christina sped into the hall, and caught up the New York\ntelephone book. She ran her finger down a column until, having come to\nthe number 3100 Spring, she picked up the receiver. Something said, in\nher little steely smile, that with the utterance of that number she\nwould throw a world away. The number was that of Police Headquarters.\nThe exchange was a long time answering. Christina shook the receiver\nhook vigorously. Still silence. As she gave an impatient movement\nsomething brushed, swinging, against her wrist. It was a loose end of\ndark green cord from the receiver in her hand. The wire had been cut.\nChristina remained there quite quiet, while that cold hand of the\nsuspicion that was now certainty seemed to stop her heart. She\nremembered that, in the world of help she was cut off from, not a living\nhuman being knew where she was. Well, she was a strong girl. She said to\nherself, \"It is better Nancy should die on the road in my arms than that\nI should leave her here!\" She ran up to Nancy's room. When she had first\ndescended to the road, some one must have mounted the back stairs.\nNancy's door was locked.\nWith a firm step Christina entered the kitchen and opened the\ntable-drawer. They had thought of that, too. Everything with which a\nlock might be pried open had been swept up and away. Christina lifted a\ndining-room chair and carried it upstairs.\nShe brought it down with all the force she had upon the lock. Failing in\nthis, she held the chair in front of her and charged the door with it.\nBut whereas in anything requiring swiftness, elasticity, endurance even,\nChristina was as strong as wire, she had absolutely no weight. After\nhalf a dozen of these batteries every one of which seemed to strike\nthrough her own heart on Nancy's fever, she decided that whether or no\nshe might shatter the door in time, time was the last thing she had to\nwaste. And she could run half a mile like an arrow. She had all along\nretained her hold on the little bag which held her purse and she thanked\nheaven for the money in it. She had her hand on the front door when she\nwas arrested by the sound of voices and approaching footsteps; Mrs.\nPascoe's, Nicola's and the heavier step of an older man.\nFrom her earlier confidence Christina had now jumped to an extreme of\naccusation in which any violence seemed probable. Mad to get away for\nhelp, it seemed better to delay for a moment or two than to be caught.\nShe slipped back across the hall and hid herself in the little closet\nunder the stairs. She was scarcely secure there when the front door\nopened, and Christina hardly dared to breathe lest the click of her own\ndoor closing should have betrayed her presence. To her highly wrought\nnerves the utter darkness, the airless pressure of her sanctuary were\nterrible, and she found and held the knob that at the first stillness\nshe might slip out. She could hear calling and running about; she could\nhear them talking in Nancy's room. After a while, the men went out and\nthen she heard Mrs. Pascoe come downstairs and the dining-room door\nclose after her. The time had come. Christina, all her life subject to\nfainting-fits, felt that she scarcely could have borne, for a moment\nlonger, that black airlessness. With infinite softness, she turned the\nknob. And then, indeed, her heart stood still. Mrs. Pascoe had omitted\nto mention one improvement with which, in preparation for Nancy's\noccupancy, the outside of the closet-door had been fortified. This\nimprovement was a Yale lock.\nCHAPTER VI\nTHE YELLOW HOUSE AND WHAT THEY FOUND AT IT\nIt was after midnight when Stanley Ingham stopped his car and yielded up\nthe steering-wheel to Herrick. Besides themselves their car carried\nthree of Kane's detectives and they were followed by the sheriff and a\nroadster full of armed men.\nThe detectives had a secondary mission. At the last minute Kane had\nreceived a message from a much concerned elderly cousin of Joe\nPatrick's. This cousin was a waiter at \"Riley's,\" a roadhouse which was\nnot only a cheap edition of the aristocratic Palisades, whence Christina\nhad disappeared, but was kept by a brother-in-law and erstwhile partner\nof the Palisades' proprietor. The waiter at Riley's declared that a\ndrunken taxi-driver had just turned up with a note from the Palisades\nurging Riley's to keep him over night. This man was quite drunk enough\nto talk about having lost his place through obliging the Palisades and\nJoe's cousin volunteered to keep an eye on him till the arrival of the\ndetectives. These were to return to New York with their prisoners of the\nyellow house not from Waybridge, but from Benning's Point, stopping on\nthe way to that station at Riley's and telephoning thence all news to\nKane.\nAt Waybridge they had been fortunate in finding the sheriff up and\nstarting forth after some marauders who were reported to have robbed a\nstill burning post-office at Benning's Point; the station agent whom\nthey found with him had seen Nicola, that morning, meet a lady with that\nold car of his that he had painted black when there was so much talk\nabout those New York Guinees having a gray one; the agent was sure the\nlady had taken no return train.\nFrom both him and the sheriff it was evident that the Pascoes as\nforeigners, had been contemptible, but not disliked. The unpopular\nperson was a boarder they had; a woman with red hair who stayed out\nthere to write novels and thought she was so much too good for other\npeople that she never so much as passed the time of day with anybody.\nFriends of hers did come out from the city to see her sometimes. Going\nor coming from the city herself she was tied up in one o' those\nautomobile veils--might 'uv been her come back this morning, only she\nlooked kind of shabby-dressed. The sheriff added that there was old Mrs.\nPascoe, Nicola's mother, as nice a little woman as you'd want to see;\nreal neat, trim, gray-haired lady, an American lady. Herrick suddenly\nturned and stared.\nBut now they were within half a mile of the Pascoe house. Stanley and\nthe detectives crowded into the sheriff's car. They had been instructed\nto send Herrick on alone; he was to attempt an entrance by a message of\nurgent and friendly warning, endeavoring to get the lay of the land and\nto make his presence known to any watchful captive, but otherwise\nawaiting reinforcements. One of the detectives said to Herrick, \"If they\nwon't let you in, just leave your message. And let them hear you drive\noff. Then we'll get together.\"\nHerrick ran the car slowly along the unfamiliar road. This was still\nclogged and rutted with mud, which had begun to stiffen since the rain\nhad stopped; a high wind shouldered the clouds in driving masses. His\ndestination was the second house on his left; and, as he peered along\nthe roadside, the deep excitement, the terrible questions which glowed\nin that dark night, worked in him with a fearful gladness. Certainty was\nat hand! A bitter exultation rode within him nearer and nearer to\nwhatever stroke Fate stood to deal him in the yellow house. A hundred\nvisions of Christina shone and darkened before him, leaping along his\npulse, and his blood sang in him with a kind of madness.--The second\nhouse on the left! There it rose, a blot on the blackness! Dark as a\nstone, it somehow struck cold on his hot hopes.\nHe brought up the car before the gate and flung a falsely cheerful\nhalloo upon the wind. Nothing answered. The gate yielded to his hand; as\nhe went up the path a fragrance greeted him like Christina's\npresence--the cold, moist air was filled with the sweetness of\nold-fashioned, garden flowers. His fingers missed the bell; but,\nlighting on the brass knocker, sent loud reverberations through the\nhouse. Nothing within it seemed to stir. But the silence echoed horribly\nand swung, quaking, in his breast. Of a sudden he knew that house was\nempty.\nNothing else mattered. Discretion ceased to exist. He drew back and\nscanned the vacant, shuttered windows; he ran round the house; there was\nstill no light; he tried the kitchen door and drew back to listen; it\nwas as though within the house he could hear silence walking and her\nstep was ominous. He put his shoulder to the kitchen door and burst it\nin.\nOnce again, as on that night in August, a dark room lay waiting; the\ndarkness seemed to breathe. He had matches in his pocket and once again\nthe light discovered only emptiness. But he remembered what, that other\ntime, the inner chamber had revealed. He found a candle and then a lamp,\nand, lighting that, crossed the dining-room and then the hall into the\nliving-room. All prettily upholstered, all in order, and vacant as the\neye of idiotcy. His soul knew there was nothing living in that house;\nand yet it seemed to him there would surely be a step upon the stair,\nthat a voice behind him or an opening door would certainly reveal some\nfateful presence. There in the hall, under the stairs, a door was open\nand he paused to look into a closet.\nIt contained a sink with running water, gardening tools, wraps hanging\nupon nails, and, on the floor, a big silk umbrella without a handle, the\nrod recently broken. There were also some old flower-pots, two of them\nhalf full of earth. Nothing else.\nAt the foot of the stairs he called out, \"Christina!\" and stood and\nlistened while his voice went dying about the empty house.\n\"Christina--it's I--Bryce!\" and then \"Nancy Cornish! Can you hear me,\nNancy Cornish?\" But no face leaned over the balusters to him. He went\nupstairs. But his step was heavy, and up there the silence weighed on\nhim, like silence in a vault. Two rooms on the left told him nothing.\nBut in a room on his right he found a small forgotten slipper. That\nslipper had fitted the slim foot of some littler maid than Christina!\nHolding the lamp high, he was struck to see the transom covered with\npoultry-wire. He went at once to the windows. Yes, there were the holes\nin the woodwork; even, here and there, a nail. There had been poultry\nwire over the windows, too. In this room some one had been held a\nprisoner. They had taken her away; and in such haste that they had\nforgotten to strip the transom and they had forgotten her slipper. At\none side of the room a desk lay open, all its drawers pulled out and\nempty; he snatched at the waste basket; there was a crumpled sheet of\npaper in it and a handful of torn-up scraps. He shook the scraps into\nhis handkerchief and, setting the lamp on the desk, he bent above the\ncrumpled sheet. There leaped before him, in an illiterate, but very firm\nhand, an opening of such unimpeachable decorum as to stagger his prying\neyes.\n    Mrs. Hope,\n            Honored Madam,\nThere was no date or other heading. The note ran:\n     Mrs. Hope,\n            Honored Madam,\n     Would say don't come here or send. You can tell where by knowing my\n     handwriting. She is not here. Where she is now I got no idee on\n     earth. I surmise she will be heard from.\nThere was no signature. Why had the letter not been sent? It had\nevidently been volunteered upon some early intimation of Christina's\ndisappearance. \"Perhaps they found out, later, that Mrs. Hope had gone\naway--\" Then he heard Stanley hailing him from the road.\nThe sheriff's party, taking advantage of his house breaking, were with\nhim immediately. They examined the place from the small, bare,\nair-chamber into which Stanley, mounting on Herrick's shoulders, stuck\nhis head, to the cellar; where only a coal-bin, almost empty beneath\ntheir flinching quest, an ice-box, and an admirable array of preserves\nconfronted them.\nUpstairs, clothes had been found in all the closets--the clothes of\nworking people for the most part; but in one, the long, slim,\nsophisticatedly simple gowns of a pretty woman. In that room they had\nforced another desk, which kept them busy for a while with tradesmen's\nbills, all made out, regularly enough, to Nicola Pascoe. Nowhere was\nthere a letter, no significant writing nor any other name. In the barn a\ncouple of trunks disgorged only some winter coats and a smell of\ncamphor; the tools in the shed were in empty order, and when,\nconsiderably soiled and stuck about with lint and hay, they met again in\nthe composed and pretty living-room, there on the mantelshelf the face\nof Christina Hope smiled mockingly at them from a silver frame.\nIndifferent to prayer or scrutiny, it had nothing to tell them. And\nit seemed to ask if they, on their part, had anything to say.\n[Illustration: Nowhere was there a letter, no significant writing nor\nany other name.]\nHerrick never knew what instinct took him back to the closet under the\nstairs. He could not bear to leave it; there was a little broken glass\non the floor and a sudden wavering in his lamp suggested that this came\nfrom a break in one of the minute panes in a small window over head. He\ntried to reach this window to see if it were fastened and found it\nnailed down, with outside shutters that were closed. But in getting near\nenough for this he knocked over one of the flower-pots. \"Find anything?\"\nStanley cried, bounding forward.\nThe smashed flower-pot lay at their feet. \"No, only broken something!\"\nHerrick instinctively picked it up and the loosened earth parted in his\nhand. \"Yes, after all,\" he said, \"I think I have.\" There had been\nburied, smooth and deep in the flower-pot, the diamond necklace.\nCHAPTER VII\nVANISHING LADY: THE SHADOW AT THE DANCE\nThe countryside slept vigorously and an hour's exhaustive inquiry\ngleaned but the one circumstance--the search party itself discovered,\npinned to the first door they came to, a note informing the neighbor he\nmight have the livestock in lieu of certain debts. It had not been there\nwhen the man had closed his house at nine o'clock. This limitation of\ntime was their sole reward, unless they counted the talk of an old\nfarmer, after the sheriff, promising to drop the detectives at Riley's,\nhad gone on to his post-office. The farmer said that hours ago, when\nhe'd been ever so long in bed and asleep, he thought he heard somebody\nhollerin' an' bangin' on his door. Kind o' half dreamed it. Kind o' half\nfancied it was a woman's voice. Storm was so bad he warn't sure. It was\nwith this pale fancy to keep them company that Herrick and Stanley let\nout their car along the road again, this time in a dryly nipping air and\nunder a troubled, scudding moon.\nFrom that desert purity and freedom of cold space Riley's accosted them\nlike Babylon. It was one blare and glare of hot lights and jigging\nmusic; colored globes over the gates, colored lanterns in the garden;\nalong the driveway the blazing headlights of continually arriving and\ndeparting motor cars that hissed and shrieked and shuddered; on the\nveranda, where the tables indeed were nearly deserted, fur-coated men\nstood smoking huge cigars and women with complexions artificially secure\nagainst the wind passed in and out; their solitaire earrings pushed\nforward beyond the streaming scarlet or purple of the veils that bound\ntheir heads. The change of atmosphere warmed Herrick with that\nunreasonable anger which the young feel against those who do not suffer\nwhen they suffer.\nHe followed Stanley Ingham morosely through the hubbub and felt no\nfitting gratitude for the table miraculously provided with a fortifying\nmeal, since Thompson, the chief detective, had not yet been able to get\nKane upon the 'phone. The cabman was upstairs under guard of the others,\nbabbling some trash about having taken the lady to the Amsterdam hotel\nand left her there. The thick smoke, the smell of wine and food and\nabominable coffee, the clatter of cheap china, the banging of the music\nand the motions of the \"trotting\" dancers in street dress, the cries of\nacquaintances urging them to new contortions, disgusted Herrick and set\nan edge upon the iron of his self-contempt. The woman calling and\nknocking in the night confronted him like a ghost, in the rank profusion\nand fever of that place. He, to eat and drink and wile away the time;\nwhat was _she_ doing? Was that she who had begged in vain for shelter,\nbeaten by the wind and drenched by the storm, and with God knew what\nterrors in her heart! Out of her pale face, with the rain upon it, her\neyes besought him.\nStanley, anxious, but waving a cigar, for at twenty an adventure is\nstill an adventure, commented, \"Say, old man, you want to relax! I could\nlet things wear on me, too, if I wanted to!--What are those?\"--For the\ndetective having again fidgetted to the 'phone, Herrick had shaken out\nupon the table-cloth the handful of torn scraps from the waste-paper\nbasket.\nThey were in the same handwriting as the interrupted note, but much more\nhurried and scrawled on cheap pad paper as if to a more intimate\nassociate. Only six of them were of appreciable size and these came to\nHerrick's hand in this order--\n    This time     get rid of her.\n    I say. She    but she can't g\n    real dau      mother\n    et rid        do the way\n    She can        but\n    mebbe\nAt the phrase \"get rid of her\" Stanley quailed. But what the words\nbrought clearest to Herrick's mind was a small, spare face in its gray\nframe bent above its game of solitaire. Without help from the law could\nhe make her speak? He heard Stanley saying, \"How did Chris ever get\nmixed up with this lot? What kind of hold _can_ they have on her?\"\n\"Sssh!'\" he said, dropping his handkerchief over the scraps. The\ndetective was returning.\nThompson sat down at their table, baulked and restive, and Herrick, a\nhundred times more so, was reduced to scowling at their surroundings.\nNear him sat a wrinkled, enameled, fluffy mite stubbing out her\ncigarette as she giggled at a masculine bulk whose face Herrick could\nnot see. Dark and handsome as it vaguely promised to be this did not\naccount for a curiosity which Herrick somehow at once felt to see it;\nbut between them reared a gorged Amazon with a high bust and a coiffure\nof corrugated brass. The band struck up again, this time to a music-hall\nditty, so that the customers kept their seats. But the hired singers\nwere straining their poor voices above the tumult and some musicians\nblacked up as negroes joined in the chorus, performing shuffles as they\nwalked up and down and slapping steps with a dreary, noisy simulation of\nirrepressible glee; infected by this whirl of gaiety the Amazon frisked\nback from the little dyed man to whom she had been bending and gave\nHerrick a clear view of a portly seigneur with a close beard. Instinct\nhad not misled his curiosity; the portly seigneur was his old\nacquaintance, Signor Emile Gabrielli.\nHe could not have told why this struck him as portentous. The men smiled\nand bowed. Then Gabrielli bowed to Stanley. \"Didn't you know?\" Stanley\nasked. \"He brought us letters--this is his first visit. He's going to do\nour Italian correspondence.\"\nIt was the more remarkable that there should be, in Signor Gabrielli's\nhoneyed civility, a kind of chill. Then Herrick remembered that he, at\nleast, was a marked man and that his old suspicion of shady corners in\nthe lawyer's experience had been partly due to that gentleman's extreme\ndislike of being \"mixed up\" in things. Henrietta Deutch could also have\nborne witness to that characteristic! Far from advancing toward their\nold familiarity the signor began to round up his innocent flock and\ninsinuate it mildly from Herrick's polluted neighborhood. And though\nthis splendor retreated Herrick did not regret being left alone, as if\nbeside the dear ghost with the rain upon its face!\nBut there was a singular beating at his heart, a feeling that he was\nplucking at a veil which he longed and feared to raise. Yet that at some\nother time he had raised it and lived through a shock upon the threshold\nof which he stood again. It was already time for another dance and the\ngroups about the tables rose to their feet. Herrick had a moment's\nvision, fever keen, of the room's arrested motion. Even the Gabrielli\nparty paused in the doorway; Herrick was moved by an uncontrollable\nimpulse to follow and accost the Italian and oddly impelled by his\nexcitement Stanley, too, rose to his feet; all round them the couples\nclasped each other; the musicians lifted their bows; after ten minutes'\nenforced repose the whole world seemed to hang in expectation of the\nmaxixe. When, just ahead of the orchestra, from somewhere outside,\nbeyond, above, into that instant's perfect silence there thrilled forth\nthe voice of a single instrument; the full-tongued call of a piano,\nleaping, swelling, swaying into the march from Faust!\nA gasp of amazement, a prickle, a shudder, ran over the skin of that\nsusceptible assembly. It was a tune, just then, so well advertised! They\nrecovered themselves with amused, scared smiles, awaiting some jest in\nthe sequel. The piano stopped with a wild crash. Instantly, from the\nfront courtyard where the motors waited, a bomb of oaths, cries and\nmovement burst upon the night. The sound of men jumping and running,\nexclaiming, stumbling, swearing, of people bounding up the steps, of the\nhall filled with astonished, excited questioners merged with one phrase\ngrowing over, topping all the others--\"The shadow! It's the shadow! The\nshadow on the blind!\"\nAmazement, bewilderment, incredulity, obstructed the story which Herrick\ntraced to a knot of chauffeurs. \"Yes--up there! The third window! Look,\nit's dark--they've turned out the lights!\" As Stanley, Herrick and\nThompson ran to the second story the legend still beat about their ears.\n\"It had its back to the window--it threw out its right arm--\"\nThe door of the room was thrown open. The proprietor's wife, shaken with\nhysterical laughter, ushered in the crowd. She was a flushed, stout\nwoman in the gaudiest of kimonos, larger than the fat man in the\ndriving-coat to whom she appealed. \"My brother here 's from Mizzouri and\nI was just showing him how the shadow must have done--you can't earn any\nreward's round here! Anyhow, you don't suppose that hussy spends all her\ntime giving signals for murders, do you?\"--\"But the shadow was so slim!\"\nsomebody said, as Mrs. Riley scornfully assisted Thompson in his\nresearches. These coming to nothing the young men were powerless to\nrefuse going oil to Benning's Point and telephoning from there--Thompson\nhad begun to be suspicious of this exchange.\nThey had gone perhaps a mile, moving slowly, watchful of the leaves in\nevery bush, and Herrick was remounting from the examination of a false\nalarm when they heard a hail in their rear and beheld approaching\nthrough the moonlight a hatless figure on a motorcycle.\nThe elderly cousin of Joe Patrick, whom they had not seen since he first\nwelcomed them, bore down upon them in timid and disheveled haste.--\"Yis,\nsor. I tried to see y' alone, sor, but yeh were gone. 'T is the reward,\nsor; I'd not be sharin' it with the policeman an' him takin' th' whole\nof it, not a doubt! An' impidence, beside, they do always give yeh! But\na gintleman, sor, I don't mind tellin' him; if yeh 'll exscuse me sayin'\nso, Mrs. Riley's a liar!\"\nNot that he really knew anything. \"No more than yirselves! But the\npiana, sor! It stands there fer the upstairs dances, an' her not knowin'\nwan note from another!--An' what's more, comin' down the back stairs\nfrom that same room wid the dhirty dishes, what did I see standin' at\nthe back door but a car like yer own--only still as death an' no lights\nin its head! Wasn't that a queer thing, now? An' it gone whin I rode\nout.\"\nWhat was that?--down the road which crossed theirs, where they had just\nreconnoitered for a sound! Nothing but their distorted fancy, their\nroused longing! \"An' all I can tell surely, sor, is that awhile back,\nwhin Riley sinds me upstairs with a bite o' supper for Mrs. Riley's\nbrother that's just come in, barrin' the long drink, stheamin' hot,\n'twas chicken an' like that yeh'd give to a lady. He has his own room,\nhas the brother, but 'twas to hers I took the thray. An' though I saw\nno wan an' I heard no wan, yit sure there was some wan beyond Riley she\nwas yellin' at an' him prayin' her 'Hoosh! Hoosh!' as I come to the\ndoor!\"\n\"Did you hear anything of what she was saying?\"\n\"Just the wan thing, sor, an' you'll remimber 'twas me told yeh. She\nsaid, 'I'll thank yeh to hand over that diamond necklace!'\"\nThere was something there! They could not hear, but they could somehow\nfeel from far behind them a stealthy purring. They turned; no lamp nor\nheadlight but their own was anywhere to be seen. The second and less\ntraveled road crossed theirs just above them at a narrow angle; but it,\ntoo, lay untenanted, not a breath quivering on the stillness. They saw\nthemselves quite alone beneath the moon, breathing a night silence\ndrenched with coldest sweetness; the last words rang in their blood with\nan accent that could not leave them wholly sober; they were, perhaps, a\nlittle \"fey.\" At any rate, it was by an impulse with which reason had\nnothing to do that, as the old waiter continued--\"'Twas for her, surely,\nthey'd have that dark car waitin'!\" Herrick held up a warning hand. The\nwaiter hushed himself, stricken, and huddled in against their car;\nHerrick bent forward in a passionate readiness, and from far in the\nrear, but nearing swifter than the flight of time, along the\nintersecting road came the tremulous vibration of a second automobile.\nCHAPTER VIII\nJILL-IN-THE-BOX! THE LAST OF THE GRAY TOURING CAR\nThey listened, incredulous, straining their eyes among the black pools\nand bright patches of wooded, winding way up from the river and\ndiscerned--almost on the instant close at hand--a gray ghost dipped in\nmoonshine; lost under the trees and then springing out upon them, a\nblack shape against the darkness, heralded by no sound of voice or horn,\nspeeding as if with its head down like some sullen thunderbolt.\nWith their lights blazing defiance Herrick, catching out his revolver,\nattempted to cross the junction in time to throw their own car across\nthe narrow road. He was too late; she grazed them as she passed; they\nfell in behind her, shouting threats which were lost in the wind of that\nflight; the road fell away before them; the hilled and wooded earth tore\npast; the noise, as of blowing forests, of multitudinous crowds and the\nroaring of the sea, surged in their ears; great waves and solid hills of\nair rose up and moved upon them, and, as they passed through, split into\nstinging, icy shreds that whipped their faces; the car rocked in the\nwild tide of its own speed, and in a world where they had gone blind to\neverything but one crazy whirl, they yet saw their lights fall ever\nnearer and brighter upon the fugitive.\nIt was now nearing three o'clock, the moon wholly victorious and the\ncars leaping through a world of molten silver. Herrick said to the boy\nbeside him, \"Can you shoot?\"\n\"Not so that you can tell it!\"\n\"Take the wheel, then!\"\nHe could not make out her figure in the car. But in such thickly looming\ndangers, what must be, must be.\nThe men ahead heard him call to them to stop before he fired. In answer\nthey merely leaned forward shielding themselves, and Herrick let fly two\nshots, aiming for the back tires; but, in that swaying speed, he missed.\nWith a kind of harsh gaiety he answered Stanley, \"No more can I!\" and\nwith the words the man beside Nicola turned and fired straight at\nHerrick's head. The wind-shield shattered in their faces; as the bullet\npassed between them Stanley felt a little sting, like the scorch of a\nquick, hot iron, on his cheek. \"Slide down,\" Herrick said to him, \"way\nunder the wheel! Keep your head to one side.\" He himself was kneeling,\nresting his revolver on the frame of the broken wind-shield. At his\nthird bullet they heard Nicola cry out and clap his hand to the back of\nhis neck; the touring-car swerved and gave a kind of bounce; the man\nbeside Nicola fired again and put a hole through Herrick's cap. The next\nminute the revolver dropped out of his hand; Herrick's fourth shot had\nbroken his wrist. And now the road broadened a little, and the Ingham\ncar was drawing on a level with its opponent. The touring-car did not\ncarry Christina.\n\"Get as far forward as you can,\" Herrick said, \"I'm after the front\ntires.\"\nTheir own front tires passed the rear of the first car; as they came\nabreast the man with the broken wrist, using his left hand, emptied his\npistol almost in their faces; a shot from the man in the body of the car\nstruck their steering-wheel; there was a cloud now between the two cars,\nsmelling so thick of powder that Stanley seemed to himself to eat it. He\nwas aware of Herrick suddenly casting aside all defenses, leaning\nforward into this cloud, his brows knotted and his arm outstretched.\nThere came the quick Ping!--Ping! of his last two shots and as if in\nthe same breath, the earthquake! The black touring-car seemed to spring\ninto the air; then her fore wheels collapsed and she sank forward, still\nsliding a little as if on her nose, and, running quietly over the edge\nof the road into the shallow ditch that edged it, turned on her side.\nThey were well passed by this time, and despite the jerk with which\nStanley brought up, Herrick had leaped out before they were stopped, and\nat the same moment a figure scrambled from the fallen hulk and, without\na glance behind, made off across the fields. Herrick, shifting his empty\nrevolver as he ran, till he carried it by the barrel, swung into full\npursuit.\nThis was the more foolhardy because on getting to his feet Nicola had\ndrawn his own revolver, from which Herrick had to dodge as he ran, and\nat length indeed to throw himself down, and get forward only by his\nhands and knees. They were now in a broken, stony lot, spotted with\nunderbrush; a brook running through it, and here and there tall chestnut\ntrees. By screening himself with these, and making a run for it in any\npatch of shadow, he kept his man in sight and even gained upon him; he\nwas waiting till Nicola's gun should be as empty as his own before he\ncame to closer quarters. For this he knelt and rose and ran and crawled,\nnow showing himself, to draw--and waste!--a bullet; and now plumping\ndown among bushes. It was at one of these moments that he heard a shot\nbehind him and, peering through the screen of twigs, saw that Nicola's\ncomrades had freed themselves from the ditch and were advancing,\napparently full-armed, and he of the uninjured hand beating the coverts\nas they came. They called to each other, and in Italian sure enough; and\nthey carried a lantern from Stanley's car. What had become of Stanley?\nAnd what now was he himself to do?\nHe crept forward to the edge of his thicket and could just make out a\nfigure, not very far off, running heavily across a cleared space. Then,\nin a blanket of darkness, the figure disappeared as though through a\ntrap-door, and Herrick, for all his listening, could hear only the\ncalling and trampling of the men with the lamp. He told himself that\nNicola had taken a leaf from his own book and was perhaps lying\nflattened to the earth--there came a disturbance in the bushes, a jar\nalong the ground, as of some one plunging back from that cleared space\ntoward the road; it appeared to him that a bulk of blacker blackness\nappeared and disappeared where those sounds rose. But the moon had so\ngone under a cloud that he could not be sure. So he thought; and then\nhis heart leaped to admit the blessed truth--the moon had set! He\nslipped to his feet and fled, swift as a shadow and strong as a hound,\nafter the heavier runner. He had guessed the truth, that Nicola was\nreturning to the road. He had been led out across the fields on a false\nscent, but now Nicola, thinking to have doubled and shaken him off, was\non the home trail straight for the high road. They came out upon it\nperhaps two hundred feet to the south of their empty motors; Herrick\nsteadily gaining, and surprised cries and lantern-flashes piercing the\nfield they had left behind. But as Herrick lifted his gun to let the\nlagging quarry have its butt-end, suddenly Nicola pitched forward and\nlay at his feet. He brought up short, suspicious of a trick. And then he\nremembered how Nicola had clapped his hand to the back of his neck.\nHolding the gun ready, he stooped and put his own hand to the same spot.\nIt was covered with something hot and wet, which Herrick, with a\nsurprising lack of sentiment, wiped off on the man's coat; he tried to\nlift the senseless figure and get it back to his own car. Something fell\nout of Nicola's breast with a little silver tinkle. The sound, as of\nsome woman's trinket, drove the sense out of Herrick's head. Though he\nmight as well have run up an electric target, he struck a match. A\nsilver locket lay in his hand. It had been violently wrested from a\nneck-chain in whose wrenched links a thread or two of lace still clung.\nIn one broken side the glass had been ground to fragments, as though\nunder a man's heel, but the marred lines of a likeness were still there.\nThe likeness, cut from an old kodak picture, was of Will Denny. Some\none, like Signor Gabrielli, had never voluntarily parted with the\nfeatures of her love! Out of the locket's other side, warm from Nicola's\nbreast and unmarred but by the trickling of his blood, cried mutely,\neagerly, to Herrick the fresh youth of Nancy Cornish.\nAlmost as he saw the bullets sang about him, as if he had charged into a\nbee hive. The lamp the Italians carried swallowed up his little match\nand picked him out with brightness, holding him in the circle of its\nlight. He snatched up Nicola's gun and pulled the trigger, but the\nbarrel was empty as that of his own; he might have flung himself down\nand taken his chance to crawl off in the ditch, but he had no mind to\ndie like that; and what he did was to snatch off his coat and hold it\nbefore him, back and forth like a moving screen, as he ran forward into\nthe mouth of the revolvers to crack at least one man on the head with\nhis cold weapon before he fell. Just then from down the road a fresh\nvolley of bullets shattered the night, and the voice of Stanley and the\nsheriff came to him like music.\nThe rescue which so much firing had helped Stanley to summon swept in\nfull chase after the Pascoes and the tables were completely turned. But\nthe shouts of the sheriff's party--\"Got one?\" \"No; haven't you?\" \"Hi,\nWilliams, they must have got over the wall of the Hoover place!\" \"We'll\nscramble over from the hood and see if they've struck down to the\nriver!\" \"Blake, you and Cobbett drive round and ring up the lodge. Them\nold folks are easy a million, but get 'em up!\"--warned Herrick of a\nblank in the sequel. And sure enough when the conquerors foregathered,\nthe escape of the Pascoes, presumably by the river, was the end of\ntheir conquest.\nFor this had they fought and ridden, crawled and run! No wonder they\nfelt a certain need of cheering each other with what gains they had.\nThere was the yellow house; the home of the Pascoes and their Arm of\nJustice, the rainbow end of Kane's dream! And there, in the ditch beside\nthem was a vague tumble of wreckage. \"Hail, and farewell!\" Herrick\nwhistled, with a curious laugh. \"We've met once too often!\" For there,\nat least, was the end of his acquaintance, the gray touring-car.\nAs the two young men re\u00ebntered New York with the milk wagons and drove\nsoberly through the Park, a cool gray light, more like darkness than\nlight and yet perfectly and strangely clear like shadowed water, had\nbegun to break above the sleeping town. Then Herrick drew from his\npocket his paper puzzle and spread it out beside him on the rear seat of\nthe car.\n    This time     get rid of her.\n    I say. She     but she can't g\n    real dau      mother\n    et rid      do the way\n    She can      but\n    mebbe\nSome of the connections were obvious enough, but what the torn edges\nhelped him still further to form was a purely domestic statement. \"This\ntime she's got to do the way I say. She ain't ever been any real\ndaughter to me. But--\" Then there was a bit gone. Then, \"She can get rid\nof\" word missing, \"mebbe, but she can't get rid of her mother--\"\n\"Well!\" cried Stanley in disdainful disappointment. \"What's that got to\ndo with anything?\"\n\"How should I know?\"\nHe made the scraps into a little pile on the floor of the car, set fire\nto them, and ground them to ashes with his heel. For he knew only too\nwell. That gray parrot face, that sharp, ignorant, cold voice in the\nsunny table d'h\u00f4te! \"I want you should clear out from here, young man.\nI'd oughta know Dagoes; I married one.\" Yes, that was it! Wasn't it\nStanley who wanted to know what hold such people had on Chris? \"My\ngirl's good Yankee--fair as any one. I brought her up so fine--\" As they\nturned down still unawakened Broadway to his rooms Herrick looked into\nthe light that was like darkness with eyes that made nothing of the\nfirst pale blush of peach blow nor the first hint of vaporous blue.\nTill he heard Stanley say, \"And if that Pascoe Arm-of-Justice gang have\nrun away and yet come back, where did they run to?\"\nThrough all his preoccupation Herrick was aware of an immense stupidity.\n\"You're right. We went over that place inch by inch. And you know, when\nthey left, they must have tumbled into their car and off--no time for\nanything. They packed nothing, they took nothing. Well, then, Stan,\nwhere was Justice's typewriter? And in what room or garret or cellar was\nthe printing-press?\"\nStanley gaped.\n\"Agreed--there wasn't any. And so that never was their real shop. Only a\nblind. Their real place of business, Stan, their fortress, their\nretreat, we've never found at all!\"\nThis was the net result of town and country in their search for a\nmissing girl, twenty-four hours after Christina had disappeared.\nThe anxiety of her friends would have been scarcely more enlightened, or\neven more relieved, had the search not happened to miss one accident of\nthat cross-wired night.\nAt about eleven o'clock, more than an hour before Herrick had forced an\nentrance, the since damaged touring-car, returning from its expedition\nof the morning, had drawn up before the gate of the yellow house. The\nnight world was then still a world of wind and rain; the car was\nsplashed as though it had passed through a flood, and Nicola, stiff,\nmuddy and drenched, was not in a very good humor when he got no reply to\nhis knock at the kitchen door. He had driven quietly and knocked\nquietly, but now he lost control of himself and began to hammer;\ncatching hold of the knob impatiently, he felt it turn in his grasp and\nentered. The door had not been locked, though the kitchen was lighted.\nHe thought he could hear, somewhere, some one knocking. He took the lamp\nand went up the back stairs; then it seemed to him that the knocking\ncame from the front of the house. He retraced his steps. Yes, there was\na light in the hall and the knocking came from the closet under the\nstairs.\nThe Pascoes were in desperate straits, and Nicola was alone. He drew his\nknife from the capacious foldings of his coat, and stepped a little\nbehind the door as he flung it open. There stumbled out, and sank,\ngasping, at his feet, the figure of a woman. She brought with her, out\nof the reeking closet, a strong odor of ammonia. Nicola gave a grunt of\namazement. Then, like Herrick afterward, he lifted his lamp, and stared\nabout the closet. On the floor lay an empty quart bottle which had\nrecently been full of household ammonia, a still soaking towel, and a\nlarge silk umbrella, the rod broken and the handle missing. With the\npoint of this umbrella a pane of the little window overhead had been\nbroken and a slant of the outside shutter forced open for air. Nicola\ncould make nothing of it; he turned at length, and grouchily pulled the\ngasping woman to her feet. This woman was the gray-haired housekeeper,\nMrs. Pascoe.\nAt ten o'clock she said she had gone to get something from the closet\nand, as she opened the door, she had smelled ammonia. Then a towel,\nsoaking with it, had been pressed on her face. Before she could do more\nthan struggle with that, she had been pushed into the closet and the\ndoor had clicked upon her. That was all she knew. She must have been\nunconscious part of the time.--At ten o'clock! What an eternity of\ndespair, then, had Christina not lived through before she thus\nruthlessly freed herself! And what, now, had become of her; under a dawn\nsome seven hours later than when, leaving Nancy behind, she had rushed\nout of that house and sped away, along the storm-tossed road?\nCHAPTER IX\nA SIGN IN THE SKY\nAt the end of four days Christina's friends gave up their private search\nfor the retreat of the Arm of Justice.\nDuring those days Herrick and the faithful Stanley, sometimes\naccompanied by Wheeler's stalwart hopefulness, had persistently\nattempted to take up the trail where it had broken--in the fields at one\nend of the Hoover estate. The beautiful old place, one of the great show\nplaces of the Hudson, stretched three miles deep to the river bank and a\nmile and a half along the road; remembering the theory of an escape\nthrough the grounds they presented themselves as richly tipping tourists\nto the little old, old couple at the lodge. These aged folk accustomed,\nduring the Hoovers' prolonged absence abroad, to curious sightseers,\nwelcomed them beneath the winged marble lions of the entrance-gates and\nmade them free of the grounds with a host-like courtesy. But no broken\nshrubbery, no footstep save of that of a stray gardener or of their\nrival searchers the police, rewarded them; from the Hudson Club's\nboathouse, which had rented a strip of the beach, no boat was missing;\nthe shores of unbroken woodland for a league on either side yielded no\nsign; when a hanging shutter at the great house led to a belief that the\nrefugees had sheltered there the friends watched anxiously the\ndisappointed ransacking of privileged authorities, and their only gain\ncame from the gossip of the old lodge-keepers which informed them that\nthe body of Nicola Pascoe had never been found. He could, then, have\nbeen only stunned. Thus it was still he they were most alert for during\nthe next three days when the whole district--inns and post-offices,\ncountry-stores and stable-yards as well as every grove and\nby-lane--yielded them by day or night no scrap of news.\nDuring their search, indeed, what clues existed had crumbled away. The\ncabman, for instance, had most truly driven Christina to the Amsterdam\nhotel, where she had simply given him so large a tip as to upset his\nsobriety and earn his discharge. Meeting in with the manager of The\nPalisades and applying fuddleheadedly for relief he had conveyed to that\ngentleman the idea of \"knowing something,\" and had been sent to sober up\nat Riley's in order to keep the reward in the family. Then the day-clerk\nof the Amsterdam brought forth Christina's registered signature,\nengaging a suite on Thursday afternoon for Thursday night; she had\nclaimed this suite from the night-clerk and occupied it; early in the\nmorning she had sent for the housekeeper and hired some clothes of hers,\nsaying she couldn't wait for her maid to bring her any. The frightened\nhousekeeper had at length displayed the white and silver dress. Last and\nworst, to Herrick, when, on Saturday, he had sought out the table\nd'h\u00f4te, the dogs, the cats, the babies were unchanged, the Italian\nproprietress greeted him with a smile of welcome, but no gray-haired\nwoman played solitaire behind the desk.\nIt was a curious enough blight without being heightened by the fact that\nKane's patience with Herrick had plainly given out. Ever since the young\nman's return from Waybridge he had been aware of a change in the\nofficial attitude which rendered it suddenly impossible for him to see\nany one whom he asked to see and stretched like a fine wire excluding\nhim from the whole affair. It increased his sense of outlawry, but a\nprivate preoccupation kept it from striking home.\nThis preoccupation ran parallel with, but, alas! could never be brought\nto meet that old story of the Hopes' love-affair which he could not help\nfeeling to be the key to the true, the hidden, situation. That little\npitted speck--and his novel! His novel of the Italian impostor! On the\nmorrow of his chase after Nicola the table d'h\u00f4te had scarcely failed\nhim before he was knocking at the door of Mrs. Deutch.\nHe took her for a walk on Riverside Drive, to be out of the way of\ndictographs, and laid before her not only the whole labyrinth of his\nperplexities but the best outline he could make of his dim conjectures.\nHe had not failed to secure Signor Gabrielli's address from the Ingham\noffice and he now put forward a petition which he tried not to feel\nmonstrous. \"Mrs. Deutch, there is a man who knows some strange things\nand strange people, who might perhaps send to Naples and receive from\nthere a very enlightening cablegram. I am less than nothing to him, he\nwill never send it for me. But I needn't tell you he is a man of great\nsensibility, very susceptible both to shame and pride. And still, after\ntwenty-five years, he carries the miniature of his betrothed.\"\nMrs. Deutch looked out across the proud bright waters. Through the\nserene air the somber glory of an autumn leaf floated to her feet; its\nfellows were gathered everywhere in withered piles which shouting\nchildren rejoiced to trample into powder. \"Yes,\" she said, by-and-by, \"I\nwill see him. There are always perhaps those of whom he is afraid.\nPerhaps he is like that. But it will be easy to say, 'We were very fond\nof each other, you and I, we were so young and you were so beautiful a\nperson! It would be a great happiness to think that now you were brave!'\nI can tell him 'Christina is my youth and my prettiness and my true\nfaith and all that you once knew.' Oh, yes, he will give them back to\nme! He will send your message!\"\nHe had, indeed, sent it; but on Tuesday afternoon no reply had arrived.\nHaving given up the countryside in despair Herrick could not keep away\nfrom the table d'h\u00f4te and, merely as a curious resort, he asked Stanley,\nwho was returning to Springfield on Wednesday, to meet him there for\ndinner. He was able to show his guest the gorgeous Mr. Gumama with the\nknit, gloomy glories of his Saracen brow, but no mystery showed a\nfeather. Inquiry, in his primitive Italian, elicited a statement that\nnearly wrenched a groan from his lips--his old lady had taken her eldest\ngrandniece, Maria Rosa, to visit relations in the country! The mother of\nMaria Rosa insisted with a sweet smile that she could not remember the\nname of the place.\nThe young men sat for a while in the square, where Stanley's astuteness\ndiscovered so many blackmailers in the gentle, lolling crowd that even\nthe statue of Garibaldi seemed scarcely safe, and then they started up\nFifth Avenue; the austere, departing dignities of whose lower end never\nseem so faded, so historic, so composed, as in September dusks. When\nthey made out the identity of an angular correctness sailing stiffly but\nhandsomely some distance ahead of them, it seemed of all neighborhoods\nthe most suitable in which to encounter Ten Euyck; yet they loitered,\nlacking the spirit to cope with their opportunities. And Stanley, who\nwas still in favor with the powers, began to attempt the diversion of\nhis moodier companion with an account of Ten Euyck's efforts to propel\nthe Commissioner of Police. \"Every little while you forget that he isn't\nanybody and can't do anything, even if there were anything to do. And\nyou say to yourself, 'Golly! I'd rather Chris stayed lost than that he\nlaid hands on her.' He looks so black and white and dried in vinegar he\ndoes get on your nerves all right. You remember what a lot of money he's\ngot, after all, and pull and all the rest of it, and you feel as if he'd\nbe able to find _something_ against her--or, even if he didn't--\"\nIn the warm still evening his voice had carried farther than he thought;\nTen Euyck turned round and recognized them. Evidently without offense,\nsince he stood waiting for them to overtake him. \"Good news for you,\nIngham,\" he greeted the boy. \"Judge Fletcher does not consider a\nconfession equivalent to pleading guilty in the first degree! Moreover,\nin strict confidence, the judge is a veteran with an extreme distaste\nfor the artistic temperament! If the prisoner is brought before him we\nshall get a first degree sentence yet!\"\n\"Oh, I don't care!\" cried the lad, making a disgusted face. \"It's all\ntoo horrible and--and queer, somehow! I don't want to hear about it.\"\n\"Oh, if your consideration is for the actor in the lady's cloak--what a\nsymbol of his whole conduct!--I understand he prefers it.\" Ten Euyck\ngave a short laugh. He was evidently in his happy vein of inquisitorial\npower. \"When a man's been ruffling before the public in lace and satin\nand diamonds of course he baulks at prison accommodations. Yet even\nthere our temperamental friend is welching.\"--He had evidently\napproached his point and they could not deny him the tribute of a stare.\n\"We may be very foolish, my dear sirs, but we are not incapable of\nlearning and I may tell you that we have acted on a hint.\"\n\"You mean by 'we' yourself and the law?\"\n\"Perhaps I do, Mr. Herrick. At any rate, this time to-morrow we shall\nhave rung the door-bell of the Arm of Justice.\"\nHe took a tolerant pity on their restiveness, relaxing to an urbane\nsmile as though his machinery were eased by the oil which always flowed\nwhen his prosecuting talent raised its head. \"When that disgraceful\nlaxity occurred at the Tombs and a prisoner was attacked there, we took\na leaf from the criminals' book and put in among the guards some men of\nour own. One of these, a man named Firenzi, a very capable fellow,\ninformed himself in no time of a marvelously well-paid plan for the\nprisoner's escape. Yes, by the very tribe who tried to kill him.\nAnything, you see, to get him out of the way. The idea is the old one of\npassing him out as a guard, leaving the true-false guard quite overcome\nin his cell;--a slim chap who's let wear a black beard on account of\nasthma or some such nonsense. They naturally suppose that an actor will\nlook less conspicuous than most criminals in a bit of make-up! Does our\nconsistent hero refuse to go? Filled with the bright hope of a hanging\njudge he does have to be coaxed a little, but not much. He is not lured\nby being told that he is to be sent to the safety of foreign lands, a\nfar-off country and, I believe, a tropical climate, suited to his\ncomplexion. Firenzi reports him as demanding what they suppose there is\nin this foreign country to interest him. 'The lady who throws a shadow\nthat you know.' 'It's enough!' says Denny, through his teeth, I am\ninformed. I don't mind telling you that it's enough for us, too! They\nwill be sure to take him to their nest to transfer him to the escort of\ntheir gang and his visit--before a Sampson shorn of his new beard and\nhaving still further done for himself with Fletcher, is returned to a\njail somewhat less porous than he imagines to-night--his visit will be\nwell watched!\"\nThey had reached Thirty-fourth Street and turned toward Broadway where\nStanley had an errand. The two puppets in Ten Euyck's hands had nothing\nto say. Neither of them could bring himself to utter his excitement in\nthat now potent presence and Herrick wondered if he were really\ntrembling. A far-off country! The phrase chilled and hardened him, as\npremeditated safety always does. He was scarcely even grateful for the\nstrength and fleetness of her wings. Never had Ten Euyck's inspectorship\nseemed less absurd or more really a fact. Of to-night and to-morrow he\nwas now the master. And yet, beside the news of a far-off country, what\nnews could he wring from the Arm of Justice to-morrow for which Herrick\nneed care so much? They stopped on the corner of Long Acre and as\nStanley plunged into a drug-store, a certain embarrassment fell upon the\ntwo men left together. \"It's remarkable how warm it is!\" Ten Euyck said.\nHerrick refrained from the flippancy of replying, \"Wonderful weather for\nthe time of year!\" On closer inspection Ten Euyck proved a good deal\nworked up. His excitement was like a sort of dry paste and as he now\ngrew pastier and pastier something that was almost a tremor seemed about\nto crack it; in fact the dry mask of his face was suffering from a\nlockjaw which was his form of hysteria. He took off his hat and, cold as\nhe looked, produced an extremely superior handkerchief and wiped his\nbrow. He said something about the last hot spell of the year and his\nlips clicked on the words as though they were rather a compromising\nstatement; was it the coming crisis that creaked in his throat? It\noccurred to Herrick that Ten Euyck might be suffering from a sense that\nhis vanity of achievement and his taste for torture, in leading him to\ndisclose to-morrow's program, had led him injudiciously far. At any rate\nhe studied, as if for sympathy, the irreproachable excellence of his\nhat-lining and a little pink line came out about his nose.\nHerrick looked uneasily at the doorway beyond which Stanley still\nloitered; he saw no reprieve. And as he made sure of this Ten Euyck\nagain fortified himself with the interior of his hat and spoke. \"On your\nhonor, now, Herrick, you wouldn't keep it from me? You've no idea where\nshe is?\" And he followed this extraordinary question with a piteous, a\nblenching glance.\nHerrick did not speak; and Ten Euyck moistened his lips. The whole\noutline of his face seemed to take on a certain sharpness, and famine\nand fever thrust themselves, for a moment, into the windows of his eyes.\nIn the silence which Herrick could not break, he murmured, \"I'm not like\nthis about women! You know that! Only she--\" His voice cracked and then\nsnapped off short, but with a hundred quiverings, like the string of a\nbanjo breaking.\nHerrick seemed to himself to look through a door, in a house of\nrevelations. Was this what covered Ten Euyck's complacent coldness to\nthe other sex? Did those neat and formal lips often stifle an outcry\nlike this? True, Christina's own story had revealed to him that Ten\nEuyck's coldness was all hot ice and very swarthy snow. But he had\npresumed that incident to be a deliberate brutality; Ten Euyck had\nalways appeared to govern his instincts masterfully or to walk on them,\nindeed, with heels of iron. To see him bared and shaken like this was to\nput a new value on the force that had betrayed him; but Herrick was too\nyoung and too much in love to endure this lusting and trembling breath\nwhen it blew upon Christina.\n\"On the whole,\" said he, deliberately, \"keep your confidences to\nyourself, can't you? They make me sick.\"\nThe pinkness spread over Ten Euyck's face:\n\"Oh, I had forgotten your happiness!\" he managed to cry, with a fierce\nshaking laugh. \"Do let me know the date of the wedding!\" He lifted his\nhat and strode from a neighborhood dangerous to dignity. But as he flung\nover his shoulder the ejaculation, \"I hope you thought my diamonds\nbecame her!\" Stanley's return arrested him.\n\"These infernal papers!\" the boy cried.\nNeither he nor Herrick had ever been strong enough to deny themselves\nthe foolish headlines where one hour Christina had been seen as a\npassenger for Hongkong and another as a chambermaid in Yonkers. Nancy's\nill-treated locket had roused the public to frenzy, but its imagination\nhad definite items only of the eclipsing Christina Hope who, in the\nmid-day editions, generally lapsed to a lunatic in a suburban\nsanitarium; but nightfall always saw her mount again to the ghastliest\nand most criminal of \"bodies.\" It was some such horror upon which\nStanley had now fallen; below it Herrick saw the statement that in a day\nor two Denny would come up for sentence before Judge Fletcher.\nHe had little enough love for Will Denny, but it was with a feeling of\nnausea that he observed the mounting satisfaction of Ten Euyck. After\nfour years the law was to wipe out, for its most obedient son, a blow\nacross the mouth! It was, nevertheless, the poisoned rumor of Christina\nwhich had set the air afire between all three men. This dealt with some\nlovely fugitive hunted out that day by wireless and then disappearing\nfrom a steamer in mid-ocean. The languor of an incredible fatigue stole\nfeverishly through Herrick's veins. Ten Euyck shouted to Stanley in a\nkind of bark, \"Well, no waves can hold her down!\" And he began to hum a\ntune in defiance of the faith with which Herrick's silence defied the\nprinted words. Herrick looked up and their gaze met across the screaming\ncolumns. Ten Euyck's tune was, \"Come rest in this bosom, my own stricken\ndeer.\" Herrick knocked the newspaper out of his hand and there was a\nsecond's tense fury before these two, who had forgotten everything else,\nshould leap at each other. In that second Stanley, lifting his eyes,\nwhistled excitedly and caught Herrick's arm.\nThey were standing at the corner of Long Acre where five nights ago\nHerrick had met Wheeler in the rain. Fiery words and figures flashed\ntheir announcements, bright as ever, against the soft, lowering, purple\nblackness of the night. Down the side street Wheeler's theater, since\nChristina's disappearance, had been dark. It was still closed, but\nWheeler must now have taken heart; for dark, save in theatrical\nparlance, it was no longer. The electric sign--\n     ROBERT WHEELER\n       THE VICTORS\nhad been re-lighted. And beneath this, in letters of equal size and\nbrilliancy ran the surprising legend--\n     THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 20TH,\n          CHRISTINA HOPE\n     WILL POSITIVELY REAPPEAR\nCHAPTER X\n\"THE OLD EARL'S DAUGHTER\": MRS. PASCOE ON FAMILY TIES\n\"I know no more than you do,\" Wheeler said. \"Or rather, no more than\nthis.\" And he spread before them a sheet of writing-paper.\nAbove the penciled scribble was neither date nor heading, but the\nsignature in Christina's slapdash scrawl made the world spin before\nHerrick's eyes. Upon that sheet of paper her hand had rested and had\nwritten there to Wheeler, but not to him! The message ran--\n     \"Announce me for Thursday night, September 20th. I will be there.\n     \"CHRISTINA HOPE.\"\n\"Where did it come from?\"\n\"From the infernal regions, apparently. It was left here at the club\nwithout the mannikin in buttons so much as noticing by whom. It may have\nbeen written from across the street; it may have been enclosed from\nanywhere.\"\n\"When?\"\n\"This noon-time. You don't doubt its being genuine?\" Wheeler asked. \"No\nmore do I. As for what to think, I haven't a guess. The girl may be, for\nall I know, a mere born-devil, or the tool of devils. Let her come back\nto my cast, and, for what I care, she may bring all hell in her pocket!\nI've had a very nasty interview with Ten Euyck, who thinks I can explain\nmy sign.\"\nStanley stood there with his face working. \"You don't mean to tell me,\"\nhe cried aloud, \"you don't mean to tell me that it's been nothing but an\nadvertising trick from the beginning!\"\n\"God forgive you!\" Wheeler said. \"You are our public!--No, my dear lad,\nthere is one thing in this angelic wildcat of ours that you can tie to.\nWhen she tells me, in our business, to bank on her being in the theater\nThursday night, I bank on it; if she can set one foot before the other,\nthere she will be. That's my belief, if it were my last breath, and I'm\nstaking everything on it. But we've got to allow for one thing. _If she\ncan!_ Christina has a great idea of her powers. But, even for her,\nheaven and earth are not always movable.\"\nMore people than one were perhaps discovering a certain helplessness\nbefore fate. About noon of the next day Mrs. Pascoe sat knitting in a\nbedroom above her niece's table d'h\u00f4te. There was only one other person\nin the room, a smallish man in the early thirties, who looked as though\nhe had once been a gentleman, and whose correct feminine little features\nwere now drawn into an expression at once weak and wild. His soft\nhelpless-looking figure writhed and twitched as he now lay down and now\nsat up upon the bed; his face was swollen with weeping and the tears\nstill flowed from his eyes.\n\"Well, if yeh're goin' to take on that way,\" said Mrs. Pascoe, \"I dunno\nas I can blame her any. I dunno as I blame her anyhow. Yeh never\nobjected when there was any money in it. It's kind o' late to carry on,\nnow. What say?\"\nThe gentleman poured forth in Italian, which Mrs. Pascoe understood\nbetter than he did English, that the lady he lamented had never wished\nto leave him before; she had never loved anybody before; hitherto it had\nalways been business. The business of the whole family he had never\ninterfered with, but this he would not bear; he had borne too much.\nAnd, indeed, from his language, it appeared that he had.\n\"My,\" said Mrs. Pascoe, \"men are funny! Yeh been married to my girl\nsince she was sixteen years old, and she ain't never treated yeh like\nanything but dirt. Well, what do yeh want to hang on to her for! Clear\nout! You ain't like me. Yeh can get another wife but I ain't got no\nother daughter. I gotta stick. She don't want me either. She wants swift\nfolks an' gay folks, she'd forget she was mine if she could. But she\ncan't! An' I can't! I can't deny anything yeh got to say. You say she\nruined yer life. She'd ruin anybody's she can get her clutch onto. You\nsay she don't love you. If you ask me, why should she? Even if 'twasn't\nherself she was thinkin' of, first, last an' all the time! She ain't\nnever cared for any human bein' but this actin' feller, an' that's\n'cause he cares 'bout the other one. Still, she got hold of him, oncet,\nan' do you think if she can get him again, if she can get them fellers\nour boys know to snake him out onto that boat for 'er, she's goin' to\ncare whether you like it or not? You take it from me you ain't goin' to\nsail to-morrow any--or anyway not with us. You ain't never wanted\nanything but a wife that could take care o' you, an' you're quite a\npretty lookin' little feller. The best you can do is to get some money\nout of her an' get a divorce.\"\nThe young man rolled back and forth and bit the pillows. Mrs. Pascoe,\nwho had hitherto regarded him with contemptuous tolerance, observed a\nwave of genuine despair in this sea of grief and her eyes narrowed.\n\"See here, young man,\" she said, \"don't you let me ketch ye doin'\nanything underhanded--squealin' on us or tryin' to keep us here, 'cause\nwe got to get out. If I was to say a word to my son that I thought that,\nthere wouldn't be no prettiness left to you. I ain't goin' to have her\nlocked up in no jail for any man that ever was born. Mebbe you think,\n'cause I speak harsh of her, I ain't fond of 'er. Why, you little fool,\nI ain't never had a thought but for that minx since she was born. Even\nwhen I first see the other child, an' the resemblance gimme such a turn,\nthe first thing I think of was how I was goin' to get somepun' out of it\nfor her. That's why when I got to nurse the little thing I never let on\nfur a minute that I had one the spittin' breathin' image of it,--hair,\nmouth and nose, an' the eyes, too, so I near fainted when I first seen\ntheirs--somepun' warned me to shut up an' somepun' 'ud come of it. They\nthought I'd just gone cracked on their baby. It's been the same ever\nsince. I read all them yarns about changed children an' I thought it\nwould be funny if I couldn't work it. An' I did. She used to act it all\nto me afterwards, right out in poertry. 'The ol' earl's daughter died at\nmy breast'--Didn't she ever do any of her actin' fur you? Goes--'I\nburied her like my own sweet child an' put my child in her stead.'\" Mrs.\nPascoe gave this forth with an inimitable relish of its stylish\nprecedent. \"If theirs hadn't died I'd ha' worked it somehow. They was\nrich then. She's walked on me an' on them, an' on the whole blame lot of\nus, ever since. But she's mine. What she wants she's goin' to have,--him\nor anything--I can't prevent her. No more can you. I'm goin' to stan' by\nher. An' you've got to.\"\n\"He's a murderer!\" shrieked the Italian gentleman. \"He's a murderer!\"\n\"Seems like it's catchin',\" Mrs. Pascoe commented. \"Here's my daughter\ntells me you was hangin' round Mrs. Hope's all last Friday, lookin' fur\nthat spy feller, an' all is you wasn't even competent to find him.--I\nguess I don't want to hear no talk outer you! Though as far forth as\nwhat roughness goes I don't say but what you wus druv to it.\"\nThe young man rose and stretching out a delicate hand, over which a\ngold bracelet drooped from underneath a highly fashionable British cuff,\ntremulously lighted a cigarette. Under its soothing influence he replied\nthat of course he was a lost soul and he didn't deny that his companions\nhad at last succeeded in dragging him to their level.\nMrs. Pascoe snorted like an angry horse. \"Now you look here, Filly; when\nI married Mr. Ansello I didn't have no more idee what his business was\nthan what you had. So far forth as what that goes, I didn't rightly\nketch the whole o' what was goin' on till you come whoopin' along an'\ngot us all into that muss where we had to clear out back to my country.\nI was mighty glad we did an' cut loose from all them demons--I said then\nan' I say now I won't stand fur nothin' rough! But you know as well as I\ndo, oncet we was started out fur ourselves there's nobody ain't worked\nharder to keep to the quiet part o' the business 'un what yer\nbrother-in-law an' yer wife has. It usta be, before Ally come back, that\nthings did get oncet in a while beyond Nick's control, but never any\nmore, thank the Lord--not in his own little crowd 'ut he has anything to\ndo with! I guess there's one thing we agree on, young feller; it's jus'\ndruv me crazy, lately, to get mixed up with the regular Society again.\nIt's gettin' to be so big, even in this country, it won't let none o'\nthe little ones work fur themselves--all this month since it took us in\nI've felt there was things goin' on I never got to hear of an' I'm\nmighty glad we're goin' to get away from it to-morrer.\" She caught\nherself back from what was evidently a favorite topic. \"But don't let me\nhear any more talk about draggin' down! You've done considerable\ndraggin' on us with all that feller spyin' on yeh costs us, an' yeh'd\nought to thank the children the way they've kep' yeh clear out o' the\nwhole business. Why, nobody hardly knows 'ut yer alive! Y' ain't asked\nto do anything, y' ain't asked to show yerself, y' ain't even ever been\na member, so now the Society ain't nabbed on yeh none. I wisht it\nhadn't sent fur yeh to the meetin' to-day, jus' to take Nick the word\nan' his money. Ally nor me, we won't do--no, they gotta have a man, an'\nI s'pose they take you fur one! So far forth as what that goes the less\nI have to do with their greasy meetin's the better I like it, but I want\nyou should be awful careful. If oncet they was to get on to who you\nwas--Now, Filly, don't you smash them mugs!\"\nThe Italian hastily resigned the object with which he had been angrily\nand absently rapping the table, and, exhausted with sobbing, began to\nbreathe upon and polish his fingernails.\nThe mug, or jug, a little earthenware copy of a two-handled Etruscan\ndrinking-vase, was one of three which stood there side by side, exactly\nalike save that the crude design which each of them bore--an arm and\nhand holding a scales--was differently colored; one red, one white, one\ngreen. But Mrs. Pascoe was aware of another difference and she turned\nthe jugs around in a bar of sunlight till she found it; on one jug the\nscales of justice were gilded, on another silvered, on the third painted\na dull gray. The single exclamation stenciled over each design\ntranslated into a sort of jingle:\n    Gold buys!\n    Silver pays!\n    Lead slays!\n\"Ain't she the hand,\" exclaimed Mrs. Pascoe, \"for monkey-shines! Don't\nyou wonder what they do with these here, Filly? Mr. Gumama asked Ally to\nget him these new ones fur to-day. She'd have to fancy a thing up if 't\nwas only to take a pill out of. Comin' in las' night without the car,\nwhat with luggin' these here an' the paul-parrot--'t ain't spoke a word,\nthat bird ain't, since it left here!--I dunno but I'd ha' broke my neck\nhadn't been fur M'ree. I do hate turrible to part from M'ree--I declare,\nif ever anything happens to my Ally, I'll come back here an' put up with\nthese Dagoes on M'ree's account--Now, for mercy's sake, Filly, don't\nhowl!\"\nFor the mention of parting had brought on a still more violent attack of\nthe young man's anguish. The smile--wan but touched with the charm of\nSicilian plaintiveness--with which he had been reconciling himself to\nlife utterly disappeared; he ceased half-way through an excellent polish\nand casting himself down as from the Tarpeian rock, blubbered into the\nbedspread.\nThe old lady regarded him with contempt passing again into suspicion and\nthen into a softening weariness that rose in her manner like an anxiety\nthat all the time had barely been held down. \"Filly,\" said Mrs. Pascoe\nwith sudden friendliness and such an uneasy, furtive look of dread as\nquite transformed her face, \"what'er they goin' to do with that girl?\"\nHe lay quiet a moment, as if discomfortably arrested by the question.\nThen he asked, how did he know? Take her, leave her; what was it to him?\n\"Well, 't ain't hardly likely they're goin' to take her--an' her feller\non the boat! An' I should jus' like to know how they could leave her!\" A\nstrange, helpless tremor passed across that firm mouth. \"Oh, why was she\never brought away? I allus knoo what it 'ud come to! Times there I did\nhope she was goin' to die, poor thing! But it war n't to be!\" There was\nno sound but the sound of Filly, growling moistly into the bed.\nMrs. Pascoe,--or, according to her own reference, Mrs. Ansello--looked\nat the clock and began to fold up her knitting. But her long pent-up\nbroodings burst from her again in a new channel. \"One while I was scared\nNick was kind o' losin' his head about the little piece. What with him\ngettin' more an' more stuck on her, all the time, an' her sick with love\nuv another feller, even to the farm I didn't know from one day to the\nnext what he would do. But when he made out 't was safer to take her\nalone with him up t' the old place--Well, we all had to scuttle there\nthat very same night, an' when she begun to take on for that letter I\nguess he forgot all them feelin's. He ain't never let a human bein'\nstand in his sister's way an', however pretty that little neck o' hers\nmight strike him, 't wouldn't take him two minutes t' wring it if he got\nscared she'd shoot her mouth against Allegra. I've had bad dreams before\nyou ever was born, but I ain't ever had any like waitin' fur the bunch\nto come home that night an' the river so handy! I never thought I'd be\nglad to see my son half-bled to death--but there, there's allus mercies!\nI expect he wishes, though, he'd come straight home from the\npost-office, instead o' snoopin' round that hotel! The sea-voyage'll fix\nhim up all right, an' he's strong enough an' cross enough an' sick\nenough to pull the whole house down 'cause he can't get back an' forth\nwithout the car. Filly,\" she shot forth, \"sure as you live he's got\nsomething made up fur to-night about that girl!\"\nThe Italian gentleman taking this as a still further personal\ndegradation, inquired aloud why he ever was born. But Mrs. Pascoe did\nnot attempt the obvious retort.\nShe rose, fetched paper and string and, with an impotence foreign to her\nwhole nature, fumbled in tying up the jugs. \"I've allus said I wouldn't\nstand fur it, allus! But what can I do? I tell him I'll curse the last\nbreath he draws--but can I stop him? Yeh know what he is--can anybody\nstop him? I tell yeh what 't is, Filly, I'm gettin' scared uv him! Yes,\nnow I'm past sixty, I'll say it fur oncet--I'm scared uv him! And then,\npoor boy, so far forth as what that goes, what can he do, himself? When\nyou come down to it, what can any uv us do? The girl knows\neverything--nobody knows that better'n you!--an' what she knows she'll\nblab. She's soft-lookin' but she's got a chin an' she's in love! If her\nfeller's done fur, we're goin' to be done fur, too! There's my daughter\nto consider an' every last one uv us. Jus' now, too, when Ally's goin'\nto get her divorce an' be so happy! What can I do?\"\nThere was the sound of doors opening and closing and of some one coming\nupstairs. But Mrs. Pascoe paid no heed. Her unaccustomed garrulity,\nwhich had hitherto seemed the result of mere strain, began to appear as\nher idea of conciliation for the ushering in of a plan. \"I've only one\nthing I can say favorable to you, Filly,\" she urged him, \"yeh ain't\nrough an' yeh was a gentleman. Yeh don't want screamin' an' hurtin',\nI'll be bound. She's a little lady, Filly, an' she's 'n American girl.\nWell, what I'm gettin' at is, would yeh dare do this? Now she's\nconscious, they won't lemme near her. But they'll never suspect you. I\nwant yeh should tell her there's a bottle o' laudanum fur M'ree's tooth\nin my closet an' if she wants it, give it to her. Give it to her quick!\"\nThe Italian gentleman giving no sign of finding consolation in this\nprospect, \"Oh, yeh'll never in the world do it!\" Mrs. Pascoe groaned.\n\"Yeh ain't got the nerve uv a sick worm! Why, it's different,--can't yeh\nsee, Filly?--if she asks fur it herself--it's different, ain't it? It's\nwhat she promised to do in the beginnin'. An' now, jus' out o'\nspitework, she won't. But I bet she will to-night. Whatever's up, she'll\nknow it before they get her feller out there to-night. Give it to her,\nFilly!\"\nThere was a knock at the door and the proprietress of the table d'h\u00f4te\nentered cheerfully. \"They come?\" inquired Mrs. Pascoe. \"Well, time I\nwent. There, get up, Filly, an' blow yer nose, do! Come, come, yeh don't\nwant the gentleman yer wife's goin' to marry to be brought up an' find\nyeh wallerin' on yer stomach!--Well, stay where yeh be! But now yeh mind\nwhat I was tellin' yeh, awhile back, about bein' anyways treacherous.\n'T wouldn't be the first time but 't would be the last! My daughter's my\ndaughter, an' as fur my son--I never said there was anythin' so rough I\nwouldn't stand fur it, when it come to Dagoes!\"\nCHAPTER XI\nTHE ARM OF JUSTICE ON CLEANING DAY: AN OVERTURE TO A COMIC OPERA\nMrs. Pascoe had some last minute shopping on hand, including farewell\ngifts for her niece's family and a special token for Maria Rosa, and she\nwas quite unaware that it would have been a godsend for her daughter's\nplans had she kept her sharp eyes, that day, on the interior of the\ntable d'h\u00f4te. But even had this occurred to her the number of figures on\nthe background of her son's life had lately so increased that she could\nscarcely have been expected to recognize that the friendly Italians who\narrived at the appointed time were not a guard of Nicola's choosing,\nsent to carry a willing captive to the freedom of Allegra's waiting\nship, but plain clothes men, who bore their prisoner back to jail. She\nand little Maria Rosa shopped successfully, refreshed themselves at an\nice-cream parlor, returned home for a distribution of the farewells and,\nre-emerging from the house in mid-afternoon, walked briskly enough\neastward, though now laden with heavier packages. Mrs. Pascoe carried so\nmany bottles of wine that even the stout wrappings threatened to give\nway and, wrapped in many folds of clean dust-cloth, Maria bore the\npretty jugs.\n\"I did lay out you should wait an' take those home,\" said Mrs. Pascoe to\nthe little girl, \"since your cousin Ally's fixed 'em up so pretty! But\nit'll be too late, likely, an' I don't like you should be crossin' the\nstreet after dark. You better tell me good-by an' run home soon 's I get\nthe loft cleaned up fer the meetin'. I told yer ma you an' me 'd unpack\nthat barrel o' backyard party truck an' the boys could bring a bundle of\nit over when they leave to-night. No use it settin' in a empty garradge.\nDon't fergit yer old great-aunt, now will you, M'ree?--an' I'll send you\nsomepun' reel pretty from furrin' parts, where yer parrot come from.\"\nShe added, as they crossed under a bend of the Elevated Road into South\nFifth Avenue, \"Remember, I've told yer ma ye're always to go out an'\nvisit my folks, same as if I was there. Mercy, I hope it don't rain with\nall of us trapesin' out there fer our last night! I don't see how the\nboys are goin' to get that feller out, with them fools skiddin' round\nthe roads the way they be--an' Filly'll faint away most likely!\"\nThey turned in at the door of a small dingy structure, which had been\nsomething else before it became a garage and that now looked vaguely out\nof use; from its obscure depths emerged the tall Sicilian, Mr. Gumama,\nwho relieved her of the wine. She and the child mounted a ladder-like\nstaircase and emerged through a sort of hatchway, scarcely more than an\nopening in the boards, with its lid tipped back against the wall.\nIt was not yet four in the afternoon, but the September light was\nalready failing under the low roof of the loft. The windows were built\nclose to the floor and that at the rear had a little, begrimed straggle\nof vine waving in at it. For the window looked out upon a triangle of\ntrodden earth, heaped as with the rubbish of an old machine-shop but\nproducing spears of grass and black, stunted bushes to show it had once\nbeen part of a yard. In front the loft gave directly upon a turning of\nthe Elevated Road, and when a deafening train roared by the whole flimsy\nstructure rattled and shook; the walls were irregularly studded with\nnails and hooks from which hung lengths of rope and buckled straps as of\nold harness that shook, too. Among these, from a cleared space of\nhonor, a head of Garibaldi, in gaily colored lithograph, confronted the\nflyspecked grandeur of the Italian royal family, domestically grouped;\nthe pink paper of cheap gazettes brightened some of the murkier boards\nwith woodcuts of prizefighters or disrobing ladies. Three or four stools\nstood about on the dingy boards and rather a greater number of worn out\nchairs; a couple of heaping barrels in one corner were covered with an\nold awning; there was a small bureau, once yellowishly glazed, without\nany glass; a kitchen table, stained with al fresco dinners, had been\nbrought in from the yard; in another corner, torn rubber curtain-flaps,\ncollapsed tires and threadbare leather cushions supported each other.\nSuddenly Mrs. Pascoe uttered a little hiss. She had perceived, sitting\nin the frame of the front window, a listless, undersized, undeveloped\nlad with the delicate, soft-eyed face of a young seraph, who looked\nseventeen and had probably turned twenty.\nThis young person was reading an Italian newspaper and sucking a limp\ncigarette which hung from between his teeth and occasionally scattered\nsparks down the slim chest which his inconceivably filthy shirt left\nopen to his belt. He was greeted devotedly by Maria as Cousin Beppo and,\nthough he was evidently the old lady's abomination, when she accosted\nhim with the unconciliatory greeting, \"Here, you! You stir yourself!\" he\nreared himself slowly to his feet and, with a good-natured smile, sagged\namicably toward her.\n\"I don't s'pose you think so,\" snapped Mrs. Pascoe, \"but this place's\ngot to be swep' out!\"\nFortunately, the tidying of the loft did not depend upon the\nsweet-smiling indolence which remained unbroken while she swept and\nrubbed; when the barrels were despoiled of their green and pink netting,\ntheir feast-day lanterns and paper flowers Beppo nosed ingratiatingly\nup; but long before the old woman had laid clean oil-cloth over table\nand bureau he was playing charmingly with Maria, whom he coaxed to\ncarry a chair to the rear window, to fill and set upon it a tin basin,\nand to filch him a clean dust-cloth.\nThen he began cautiously to wash his face, down almost to the black rim\nmidway of his pretty throat; cleansing his hands, too, but not so as to\ndisturb the fingernails. Out from the top drawer of the bureau he took a\nbroken bit of mirror, also richly scented pomatum with which he smoothed\nhis hair well down over his brows and then he brought forth a velvet\njacket and a waistcoat sprigged with embroidered flowers. He handled\nthem as if they were vestments and, despite the warmth of the afternoon,\ntheir weight did not appal him. To these, over the filthy shirt, he\nadded a silk neckerchief of robin's egg blue and a glittering scarfpin;\nthere came forth, from its hiding-place about his person, a very\ngraceful little knife which he stuck with airy bravado in his belt.\nLastly, he lighted a huge cigar and assumed, though for indoor display\nonly, a soft hat balanced on the left side of the head, and a light cane\nswung from the left hand. Standing thus, full-costumed, with a\nhip-swaying swagger, he was more picturesque though less fashionable\nthan his confreres of northern races, but his infamous profession was\nnone the less proclaimed in every line of him. And once more he turned\nthe sweet beam of his smile upon the little girl.\nBeppo had not, however, dressed himself for professional purposes. The\ncoming occasion was more solemn and his toilette an act of the purest\npiety. Perhaps that was why, when Mrs. Pascoe turned her contempt on him\nagain, he was no longer amused.\nThe old woman, as she set out the jugs, was saying, \"Fetch up them\nbottles, M'ree. An' Becky or whatever your name is--\"\nShe turned and beheld the basin of dirty water. \"You take that right\ndown stairs!\" cried she, in outrage. \"An' the rest o' yer trash with\nyeh! When I clean a place, I want it left clean!\"\nHe said something, sulkily, about emptying it herself.\n\"Well, when I come to emptyin' swill, 't won't be no Dago swill! Here--\"\nFor he had furiously snatched the basin above his head to dash it on the\nfloor.\nShe caught at and somehow prevented him, but not from whirling it\nthrough the window into the back yard. He was smiling again at this\nassuagement to his dignity when he suddenly perceived that the struggle\nhad sprinkled his vest; spots appeared also upon his scarf's cerulean\nblue! He became, on the instant, a maniac, not human; he raved, he\nshrieked, his delicate skin flamed, tears suffused his eyes, he ran up\nand down scattering prayers, howls and curses. Until, one of these\nvoyages bringing him close to Mrs. Pascoe's small disgusted figure, he\nseized her by the wrist and with the deliberate, systematic skill of\ncustom began to wrench her arm.\nMrs. Pascoe very promptly kicked him in the shins. \"If my son Nick was\nhere he'd take the buckle-end o' one o' those straps an' spank the life\nout o' yeh! Yeh wax-face! Yeh--\" For once stooping to Italian she shot\nforth the word, \"Ricondoterro!\"\nIt was his calling and he should not have objected to it. None the less,\npursing his soft lips he spat a fine spray over her face. She jumped at\nhim in such a fury that Maria threw protecting arms about her\nplayfellow; then they were all parted by the tall Sicilian, Mr. Gumama.\nThis imposing person had, with dramatic quiet, brought up the wine; and\nnow, holding Beppo by one wrist, he listened to Mrs. Pascoe's angry\ncluckings. Then he seemed merely to put out one fist. The boy fell on\nhis back without even a cry and lay as he fell. \"Why, you beast, you!\"\ncried Mrs. Pascoe. \"Mebbe you've killed him!\"\n\"No. But no matter,\" said Mr. Gumama. \"Go and make your guard. Come not\nup again till I call you. Take the child.\"\nShe went, holding Maria's hand and looking back, with her old mingling\nof curiosity and reluctance at the prone figure of the pretty\nricondoterro, from whose nostrils blood had begun copiously to gush on\nher clean floor. The tall Mr. Gumama was evidently not one to be defied.\nIt was half-past four and those who were expected began to come. First a\ncouple of laborers, warm from their work; the next had the proud bearing\nof a chauffeur; after him came a respectable professional man, probably\na dentist, wearing a black suit, a full beard and glasses; then a plump\nand coquettish little beau, the owner of a fruit-and-candy stand, who\nbore a flower in his light, ornamental coat and the scar of a knife\nacross his rosy left cheek. He was followed by his cousin, who had only\na fruit cart and sold for him on commission. One and all were obliged to\nhalt before Mrs. Pascoe, who sat on a stool at the foot of the stairs,\nplaying solitaire on a couple of orange boxes.\nShe bent her tongue Italianwards and asked of each the same question.\n\"What do you want here?\"\n\"Justice!\"\n\"How can you get it?\"\n\"By the Arm of God.\"\n\"Who is your enemy and mine and your children's children's?\"\n\"A traitor!\"\n\"Y' can g'won up.\"\nAs they emerged into the loft they were each greeted by Mr. Gumama and\nthen dropped themselves awkwardly about on stools and window-sills, with\nthe whispering stiffness of people in their best clothes. Beppo,\nmoaning, now lay huddled on his side and, as occasion arose, they\nstepped about and over him without the slightest interest or even malign\namusement in his plight. By-and-by he got to his hands and knees and\ncrawled into a corner, where, with the now fatally ruined blue scarf\nheld to his nose, he shivered himself slowly quiet. But his pomatum came\ninto play with the laborers, who sat seriously down by the still bright\nrear window and beautified their heads with it, cheerfully assisting\neach other's toilet as amiable monkeys often do and even smearing\nthemselves a little from the communal mercies of the water-pitcher.\n\"Enough!\" Mr. Gumama sternly rebuked them. \"Business alone!\"\nThey looked meekly at him, stricken, and he called one of them by\nname--\"Take the stairs!\"\nThe man crossed to the opening in the floor and seated himself a little\nback from where it gave into the room; the knife which he drew from\ninside his clothes seemed a trifle clouded and he sat idly polishing it.\nMr. Gumama looked at his large silver watch and, stepping to the front\nwindow, glanced out. A certain anxiety in him began to make itself felt.\nMore and more men arrived, but evidently not the looked-for men. A\nstrapping youth began unconcernedly to converse with Beppo about a duel\nthey were to fight. \"I cannot remain forever a picciotto. If I do not\nfight the next duel how shall I ever get to be a member?\"\n\"Me they will not yet let fight again.\" Beppo stopped sniffling and\ndisplayed, a bit above his knee, a wound that might have been made with\na knife like that in his belt or a short dagger. \"In two duels have I\nlost, and if I lose the third I lose my entry.\"\nThe strapping youth began to get excited. \"With whom, then, can I\nfight? How long do they intend to keep me waiting? See, now, I want my\nrights--I want to be promoted--\"\nA man with turned-up red mustaches, sporting a carnation and a pair of\nhighly polished boots, interrupted his complaint that the bootblack\nunder the Elevated had overcharged him and reproved Beppo for kicking\nhis chair. The fruit-vendors also stopped quarreling over the accusation\nof the huckster that the merchant had supplied him with decayed fruit;\nthe merchant allying himself with the strapping youth and declaring that\nhis wife's brother was right and ought to be promoted. Then, with the\none word, \"Peace!\" Mr. Gumama struck them into abject silence.\n\"Peace! Ludovisi, your wife's brother may win all three duels and yet\nendure years of probation. Beppo, let your squeal rise once more and you\nare suspended for a month.--Have you, then, no wits at all? Let the\nresult of this meeting go a little wrong and promotion it will be no\nmore! At least for us, fellow members of the old-days Arm of Justice,\nfor we shall be no more!\"\nA number of men cast glances of horror. But after a few lightning-shot\ngrowls even this number returned to its knitting, being accustomed to\nobey and not to ask questions. Again Mr. Gumama looked at his watch.\nMore and more men arrived till the loft was crowded. The unknown persons\nwho had so long so strangely shadowed the pathway of Christina Hope were\nbeginning to mass for action and to detach themselves from the\nbackground. And still as the loft darkened with the passage of each\ntrain and relightened less and less when that was gone, another presence\nseemed to enter and abide; the growing, shadowy presence of suspense. It\nwas in the air, for the ignorant many as well as for the few who\nunderstood. There were brief silences so deep that the little vine,\nspying in at the window, could be heard tapping on the upper pane. Then\na cab stopped outside and a startled thrill passed through the assembly.\nThe man who had been told to take the stairs rose with a soft,\nbusiness-like precision and drew his knife. He stood, waiting. Something\nin his attitude defined his duty as preventative not of an entrance, but\nan exit. Any unwelcome comer who got past Mrs. Pascoe's guard would get\nfarther; he would enter the loft, but he would never leave it. He would\nnot even turn round. Mr. Gumama, watching the cab avidly, opened his\nfateful mouth. But the men disgorged from its disreputable depths were\nfriends to that house.\nThe first two tumbled into the garage, glanced round, saluted Mrs.\nPascoe, and returned to the assistance of those on the sidewalk. These\nmanoeuvered between them a man with his hat pulled down over his eyes\nand an overcoat hanging about his shoulders whom they supported like a\ndrunkard. A fascinated crowd stopped to wink and advise. As soon as the\ntwo men were inside they threw their burden flat on the floor and\nreturned to the cab for another. The man on the floor was gagged, his\narms were tied behind him and even his thighs were bound.\nSwarthy as was the man's face Mrs. Pascoe was still observing with\nannoyance these signs of roughness when a second human bundle was\nbrought in from the cab and the cavalcade somehow hoisted itself\nupstairs. In the loft the human bundles were propped against the wall\nand the meeting came to attention.\nCHAPTER XII\nTHE COMIC OPERA CHORUS: \"AND SAID, 'WHAT A GOOD BOY AM I!'\"\n\"The eighth district, members of the Honorable Society,\" said Mr.\nGumama, bowing to the assembly as if he were ascending a throne, \"it is\nmy duty to inform you that, for reasons which you shall presently know,\nNicola Pascoe is no longer our capo d'intini. Unworthy that I am,\" he\ncontinued with pomp, \"be pleased to signify by the vote whether it is\nyour pleasure that I assume this post of glory.\"\nIt was their pleasure and the vote acclaimed it. Instantly Beppo, the\nmerchant's brother-in-law and three or four other lads ranged chairs and\nbarrels in a circle nearly as might be round the kitchen-table and all\nof the assembly that could find seats sat quietly down. Mr. Gumama\nfilled the earthen jugs with wine and they were passed from hand to\nhand, each man taking a ceremonial draught; then the man at Mr. Gumama's\nright rose and, with dramatic gesture and winy mouth, kissed him on the\nforehead. So, in turn, did each of those to whom, by some mystic\nprecedence, the seats at the table had been spontaneously allotted. All\nwas accomplished with due ceremony, but rapidly and with an undertone of\nnervous expectation, the weight of some unusual circumstance. It was\nanother and less flowery version of the festivity which had so amused\nHerrick that evening, a month ago, when it had frothed round Nicola\nPascoe under the sail-cloth of the table d'h\u00f4te. Almost immediately the\nmeeting proceeded to business.\nThe man with the carnation and the resplendent shoes rose ponderously\nand began to hurry through a fortnightly financial report. This report\nwas starred with titles--capos of various departments, first voters,\nsenior members, cashiers, secretaries--and with references to local\ndistricts, twelve or fourteen of them, into which that blundering\nmammoth baby, New York City, would have been surprised to find itself\ndivided. The administrative looting of these departments was again\ncrossed off into eight sub-divisions--paranze, the treasurer called\nthem, each of which had, apparently, its own committee and procedure;\nfor each paranza had turned over its earnings to its capo d'intini,\nthese capos in turn had passed them to the capo in testa who had turned\nthem into the treasurer in exchange for a receipt. One of these receipts\nMr. Gumama now produced. The fortnightly gains were deposited upon the\ntable in two cigar-boxes; in one the baratolo, won at games and\nswindling; the other held the sbruffo, more heroically acquired from\nextortion or theft. Every one began to praise what he had himself\ncontributed, and it became evident that the apprentices, like Beppo,\nwere expected to do most of this light work. However, save for a glass\nof wine to each, which they were told to drink thankfully, they did not\nshare in the spoils they had so largely produced. These were apportioned\nby Mr. Gumama without the protestation of a single voice. Percentages\nfor three funds were set aside; one for what was politely called \"social\nexpenses,\" which, to a gross mind, might have suggested corruption; one\nfor legal defense; the other for pensioners--retired members, families\nof those unfortunately detained in jail, and widows of members deceased\nwhile in good standing. Not till then was the remainder paid equally\ninto each individual hand, in a model of just and scrupulous\ndealing.--As, in various dialects, a foam of pent-up exclamations now\nrose, Mr. Gumama again looked at his watch and, with an awe-inspiring\ncontraction of his beautiful brows, once more betook himself to the\nwindow.\nA slick, sleek oily youth in a gray derby began to deliver some mail\nwhich he had just collected from the branch post-office in Marco\nMorello's drug-store down the street; among the innocent pleasantries of\nindecent post cards there seemed to be at least two enigmatic warnings\nin dirty envelopes and a happy suggestion of workable scandal about a\nrich jeweler; one postal, demanding in scarcely legible and very\nilliterate Neapolitan slang the \"suppression\" of a woman who had turned\nthe writer out of his job in her fake employment agency, was frowned\nupon by Mr. Gumama as unnecessarily careless. Directly the meeting had\nformed itself into a rough semblance of a court, the writer of the\ncareless postal was condemned to be suspended for six months, so that\nhis earnings were cut off from both sources.\nOne of the laborers rose to complain that the capo of his paranza had\nsentenced him to a week's suspension for quarreling with a companion;\nthe evidence showed injustice and the complaint was sustained. A\nsaloon-keeper broke into passionate appeal against another sentence of\nsuspension, this time for a year, because he had shed a tear of pity for\nthe child of a wine-merchant which had died while held for ransom. But\nhis capo d'intini, the head of a whole district, had seen the tear and\nthe punishment was confirmed. A picciotto di sgarro, a novice, who had\npassed two duels with credit, was found to have hesitated in obedience\nand was expelled from possible membership for all time. Now popped up a\nred, bushy stub of a man, with a full tuck under his chin and a certain\nunshaven dinginess, to declare that something outrageous was going on in\nhis neighborhood: there were rowdies who hung about the street corners\nand offended the female foundlings of the good sisters, making remarks\nwhen these took exercise! The gentle ladies had appealed to the police\nin vain, but to the Honorable Society they could now in tranquillity\ntrust. The Honorable Society, shocked and indignant, assumed the future\nimmunity of the female foundlings for a slight consideration. Finally\namidst an ominous silence Balbo the Wolf, a chauffeur, a full member,\nwas convicted of having practised extortion without orders and on his\nown account.\n\"Lupo Balbo,\" said Mr. Gumama, in the profound chest notes of an\noutraged parent, \"you deserve to sleep forever. You have broken your\noath of humility, you have rebelled against your father and scandalized\nyour mother, you have taken food from the mouth of your family, for the\nSociety is your family and your father and your mother.--Tommaso\nAntonelli--\" He spoke low and quick to a man near him, who sprang\nforward, there was an instant's sharp, half-voluntary struggle and then\nAntonelli drew back with a dripping razor in his hand. Lupo, the\nchauffeur, covered a face marked forever with a double slash. And Mr.\nGumama somewhat unnecessarily added, \"The spreggio is for you the\npunishment, you wolf Balbo. Bathe your face, there in the pitcher by the\ninnocent vine, and leave the council.\" Lupo Balbo, no more than his\npredecessors, winced, argued, nor rebelled. Against the decree of the\ncapo no appeal was possible.\nAll this time--so much shorter a time than any agreeable social club\nwould have taken to despatch a single item of business--the human\nbundles had remained propped against the wall; silent perforce and\nwrapped in the indifference of their own doom. Mr. Gumama now turned an\nattentive eye upon these lumps of misery, and a kind of brightening\nglimmered through the assemblage; the duller preliminaries were disposed\nof at last.\nThe poor souls being brought forward the capo pronounced their names\nwith scorn. \"Luigi Pachotto and Carlo Firenzi, you deserve no trial.\nBut the Society honors its strict laws and does not condemn without\njustice. Beppo, Chigi, remove those gags.\" The eyes of the human bundles\ngoggled avidly forward; their mouths puffed moistly in physical relief.\nStill, they made no complaint.\n\"Full members of the Society, alas!\" Mr. Gumama tragically continued,\n\"members, also, of our Arm of Justice, ere the Society accepted that Arm\nas part of its own body, we have received demands for your suppression\nand, from our camorrista scelto, proof of your guilt. Luigi Pachotto, of\nthe eight crimes against the Society which incur the penalty of death\nyou are charged with the first--Number one, to reveal the secrets of the\nSociety. And you, Carlo Firenzi, with the second,--spying on behalf of\nthe police. It is true that Lupo Balbo was guilty of the sixth, and I\nmade his penalty little. But of such crimes, like disobedience, the\npunishment at its worst is death. Yours are the crimes of treachery, for\nwhich the death is slow. Most for you, Carlo Firenzi, there can be no\nexcuse. When you began to suspect the news which I am about to break to\nthe paranza you turned police operative and betrayed the system by which\nour unfortunate friends communicate in horrible prisons and become\nproperly organized. And when, last night, you were set by the paranza to\ndo a service this morning to your basista you gave notice to the police.\nSo that they came and took back the friend of our basista and now guard\nthe nest of our social gatherings. Did you think the Arm of Justice had\ngrown too weak to punish? Carlo Firenzi, what have you to say?\"\nHe had nothing to say; only, hanging his head, he ground his teeth. Yet\nthe form--the form? the very core and gist--of a trial was put through;\nthe evidence heard and questioned, the witnesses confronted with the\nmute despair of a guilt taken red handed and making no denial; fifteen\nminutes of the truth passionately sought and no law-game played.\nThe conclusion, however, was foregone and Firenzi was soon stood back\nout of the way. \"Luigi Pachotto, you have, I believe, affirmed good\nintention. You knew that the old-days' Arm of Justice, now the fifth\nparanza of this eighth district of the Honorable Society, had long\nsheltered in its midst, all unknowing, a traitor to the Honorable\nSociety.\" He had touched a spring that vibrated through the whole room.\nUnable to proceed he waited till the murmur of incredulous horror that\nhad risen to a growl should die away. \"You betook yourself to the capo\nin testa of the Honorable Society rather than to your old friends of the\nArm or even to this district, and to him pointed out the whereabouts of\nthe traitor. Did you dare to insinuate that the Arm itself would not\nhave punished had it known? What good to it or to the Society did you\nexpect of this?\"\nIt was more a slur than a question and he answered it in a hopeless\nmumble. \"I did it for the good of the Arm and to make our peace with the\nHonorable Society. I say it, who am about to die--I thought to resign\nthe traitor, to give him into its hand who sullies ours, to be done with\nhim and at peace.\"\n\"Luigi Pachotto, you took too much upon yourself! It is for the Arm to\nmake its own terms. I think it was your private peace you wished to\nmake, thus to save your own throat. But you have cut it.\" Mr. Gumama\npaused and sententiously expanded his beautiful brows. \"Nevertheless, it\nmay be that you are to be shown strange mercy!\"\nThe murmur rose again, humming with amazement.\n\"The Society can be merciful for its own just ends. There is a service\nto be rendered, a deed to be done, beyond the skill of any garzione di\nmala vita, its apprentice, or yet of its novice, the picciotto di\nsgarro, the young one. It should be done by one who is past life.\nTherefore, the Society, yet a little while, suspends your execution.\"\nPachotto was thrust into the background and Mr. Gumama, who all this\ntime had been seated at the table, rose and leaned forward, indicating\nthat the meeting had reached its climax.\n\"Dear friends, you observed well what Pachotto said? For this have we\ncome together. We of the Fifth paranza, Hands of the Arm, we, in\nparticular, must take heed to ourselves.\" He paused, collecting\nattention. But it was already in his pocket. \"He who used the Arm of\nJustice to shelter a traitor, is its long-time chief, Nicola\nPascoe--called in the country from which he carried his bowed head,\nNicola Ansello! Ah, you know the name! Then you know well that the\nserpent whom he nourished in our bosom is the traitor at whose word, ten\nyears ago in Italy, four members perished!\"\nA shudder shook the assembly. Many crossed themselves. Mr. Gumama, in\nthe relish of his own rhetoric, grew increasingly impressive. He was,\nmoreover, extremely pale. \"The Society passes sentence--that Arm still\nenfolds the traitor!\"\nThe assembly cried out as against a sacrilege and its cry was menacing.\nThe Hands of the Arm were now easily distinguishable by their very long\nfaces.\n\"Ah, my friends,\" wailed Mr. Gumama with a sudden shrillness, \"the\nSociety falters not, but strikes--Fifth paranza, Hands of the Arm, it\ncondemns us, every one!\"\nA horrible yelling broke loose like a storm. Sobs and hysterical curses\nstrangled together amidst the revilements of the now inimical district.\nOne man was seized with convulsions and had to have wine and water\ndashed over him, another fainted and got stepped on. Mr. Gumama remained\nsuperior and at last made himself heard. \"But was it not from the\nSociety I learned lenience to Pachotto? Does it not, in wisdom, leave me\nin place to address you? On one condition the Society withdraws its\ncondemnation.\"\nThe very melody of howling rose. \"The condition! Tell! Tell!\"\n\"First, lest too great the shock, listen a moment. You know well how in\nthis America where, since Italy drove her forth, she grows so great, the\nconditions of the Mother Society are greatly relaxed; so that, in a new\ncountry, she may strengthen herself with all her children. When heads of\nsmall societies, existing ere here she had waxed great, came to be\nabsorbed in her she accepted the members for whom they vouched without\nrequiring the apprenticeship nor the novitiate. So it was with the Arm\nof Justice. Of all the small societies we were the most distinguished.\nIt was not seemly so superior a collection should exist outside the\nHonorable Society. So much truth do I speak that in accepting us it made\nour chief, Nicola Pascoe, chief of this district, made ourselves into\none paranza where we are yet a unit with our own rules, fifth paranza of\nthe eighth district. The Society decrees that after to-day this paranza\nshall be broken up and scattered among the others and that name, the Arm\nof Justice, be spoken no more. So shall the true forget the traitor!\"\nHis breath failed him. But fortunately his audience came to his rescue\nwith a hissing snarl--\"Traditore! Traditore!\"\n\"Fellow members, it is nothing. We who are innocent expect to suffer for\nthe guilt of friends. What I entreat, it is that you examine what kind\nof a friend Nicola Pascoe has been to us. It is true he found us little\nand made us great. It is true he taught us, formed us and was our\nleader. But knew we who he was? Did he tell us he had fled from Naples\nto this place carrying in his arms a traitor? Now that we know, to us\nwhat is he?--Ah, we, guileless, true shoot of the parent vine, branch of\nher root, of the Honorable Society the pious children!\" Mr. Gumama,\nsincerely overcome by this pastoral vision, rolled up his eyes for a\nlong pause. But as he had to sneeze he continued, \"Hands of the Arm,\nfor to-day we are still ourselves. For to-day I might have called one\nlast meeting of the fifth paranza and we, all alone, have discussed our\nown affairs. But that there may be no stain on us of secret counsel we\nshow our hand to the whole district.--How may we again be dear children\nof the Mother from Naples, held safe in her embrace? Hands of the Arm,\nto save the Arm cut off always the Hand, one, three, how many, it is no\nmatter! Hear the one condition of the Honorable Society: We divulge the\nwhereabouts this night of Nicola Pascoe, the basista and all their\nhouse; we offer them neither warning, shelter nor defense; we lead,\nourselves, this district in their suppression!\" And he leaned towards\nthem, glaring and sweating, his voice still cautiously lowered and\nwaited their answer with open mouth.\nThey who never yet had disobeyed Nicola Pascoe stared at him a trifle\nwanly, huddling one on the other. Astonished gutturals mingled hoarsely\nwith shrill peeps; \"Body of Bacchus!\" \"Woe, woe! Beware!\" \"Presence of\nthe devil!\" clashed with gobs of thieves' slang and the less amiable\nexpressions that were overwhelmed by the general assurances of the\ndistrict that the paranza had no choice.\nThen a well-to-do little soul with a black beard rose to speak. \"Listen\nto the voice of reason. If we condemn ourselves, can we save Nicola\nPascoe? But if we condemn Nicola Pascoe, we still do save ourselves! All\nmust not die--a few it is better to die! It is well I should say this,\nfor I am a man of gentle speech. I do not wish to be thought like a bad\nmurderer nor the companion of murderers. I am a business-man--a dealer\nin tortoise-shells which I send mostly to Chicago, and I am unique for\nthe perfection of my wares. I have now the one hope for the support of\nmy family and small children--that the Society if it suppresses us all\nwill leave upon each of us its mark. That would cause a sensation and\nperhaps advertise my unique tortoise-shells to improve the business for\nmy wife. But this hope is not enough. Nicola Pascoe, the basista, all,\nall, suppress them! Me, I wish to live!\" He sat down.\nBut then, from Nicola's closer brethren immediate and violent opposition\narose, with arguments that Nicola himself had done no wrong and pleading\nfor a lighter sentence. The meeting was in scarcely less than an\napoplectic fit when, from its outskirts, a young farmhand shrieked out\nthat they must take the counsel of the good priest, the Angel of the\nSociety.\nA tall man at once began to weep and to utter horrible invectives\nagainst the last speaker, while Mr. Gumama exhorted him to be more calm.\nIt turned out that the Angel of the Society was in jail for perjury and\nthat the tall man was his brother. \"I must leave the room! I must have\nair! How could he, the bad of heart, the pig, mention my brother before\nme--\"\n\"Angelo, you are a man and must show more strength! Antonio was not\naware of the trouble of your brother--\"\n\"Not aware of--He who celebrated masses for the soul of King Humbert, he\nwho remained tender to us though all other fathers refused us absolution\nwhile we practised our profession, he who among us was best for\nplausible defenses, that holy man!\"\n\"We revere him. But it is impossible to allow you to leave the room\nevery time he is mentioned! You have disordered in that way the last\nfour meetings!\"\nAngelo threw himself on the ground with cries of injustice, and an\nequally angry person started up from his corner. \"What is he screaming\nabout? Has he the only feelings to be considered? Do I thus weep like a\nwoman? I, too, have a brother in a dark prison--and if I were with him I\nwould be more safe! While that one there slobbers do I wish to die? And\nto thus make a martyr not only of me, but of that holy soul, my mother!\nWho, at eighty-four would weep for me and tear her sacred hair, all\ngray!\" A chorus of sympathetic wails responded to this touching\nreference. \"Me, I see in this room one who once took my lock of that\nhair for another woman's!\" Hisses arose. \"Yet do I ask to leave the\nroom? Let it be the house of Pascoe which forever leaves this room.\nRather than meet in the dark with the agent of the Honorable Society I\nwill surrender me to the police!\"\nThis, indeed, achieved tumult, breaking into personal rancors in which\nthe issue of Nicola seemed to vanish.\n\"You are a liar! He did not--\"\n\"I will swear on the ashes of my father and of my dead son!\"\n\"You would swear on anything!\"\n\"Beware! Beware the anathema!\"\n\"I am sorry for you--I take you to my bosom!\"\n\"I curse you down to the seventh generation!\"\n\"Once you dug, quiet, in my sewer! But now you are proud and a\ngentleman--\"\n\"I was always more of a gentleman than you are!\"\n\"I remind you that you must die!\"\nAt last the voice of Mr. Gumama was able to make itself heard.\n\"Beautiful friends, the vote, the vote!--Ah! Now, attention! This is\nwhat you do not know. Who thinks to be faithful to Nicola Pascoe, is\nNicola Pascoe faithful to him? Nicola Pascoe flees away! A-a-ah! Doubt\nyou that the Society will have _some_ atonement? He flees to Brazil,\nthis coming sunrise, he and his, and leaves us to bear his blame!\"\nIt was enough. The meeting could not speak; it could only shake and\nfroth in one united epilepsy. As the fifth paranza found voice it\ngroaned, \"We have been betrayed! We are innocent! We have been cast like\nlambs to the slaughter! He has trampled not only on the human but the\ndivine law! He leaves us to perish in this infamous market--\" And a\nvery old man, as he called down upon the Pascoes all the curses of\nheaven mixed with descriptions of his sufferings from nightmare as a\nchild, put up insane appeals for their punishment. He rose from hysteria\nto hysteria; sobbing with exhaustion he buried his face in his hands\nafter summoning God, personally, to convince Nicola's friends; suddenly\nhe raised his head and, plucking at one of his wild eyes, with a\nsweeping movement he cast a small object apparently at Jehovah's feet.\nHis magnificent gesture defying their mercies, he lifted to their gasp\nof amazement the seared, empty, gaping socket in his ancient, bearded\nface, and, uttering a choking shriek, he fell to the ground. A stampede\nof horror was averted by Mr. Gumama, who picked up the eye-ball, cast it\ndown again and ground it under foot. It was glass.\nThere being no hope of capping this climax they got down to business and\nsurrendered Nicola in a wink. There remained to be dealt with a flourish\nof Mr. Gumama's. \"This is all demanded by our kind Mother. But shall we\nnot give a little more? Shall she herself be obliged to slay the serpent\nthat we have fed and made strong? Will she not be pleased by a little\nmore zeal on our part, while still we are ourselves? My friends, I have\nmade a little arrangement.\" Fortunately for Mr. Gumama's climax as he\nnow sent another of his impatient glances out of the window he gave an\nuncontrollable cry of relief. \"Here they come!\"\nStrolling along the sidewalk appeared three men, all evidently Italians;\nbut two, in their rough clothes, lumpish sailors. The slenderer and\nfiner-made came sauntering between them; he had a charming smile with\nwhich he listened attentively to some oath embroidered anecdote. As they\nentered the garage one of the sailors, looking up, caught the eye of Mr.\nGumama and made a quick signal. \"Bene! They have not been followed!\" Mr.\nGumama exclaimed. \"By the grace of heaven they have not been followed!\nAnd he has no suspicion!\" The confidential aides purred aloud, the whole\nmeeting slightly relaxed and the man with the knife decided to sit down.\nBut he kept his knife in his hand.\nMr. Gumama stationed two men at the window to watch the sidewalk and\nthen motioned half a dozen distinguished members to the stairs.\nCrouching forward they could see the slight man leaning in the doorway,\nwhistling, and glancing up and down the swarming street with quick, dark\neyes. Mr. Gumama squatted until he was in danger of falling through the\nopening and pointing a long, soiled finger at the slight man, \"Il\ntraditore,\" hissed Mr. Gumama. \"He whom Nicola and the basista shelter\nin our midst! Alieni, o' n'infama! Traditore! He, Filippi Alieni!\"\nCHAPTER XIII\n\"WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOR?\": A CRIMINAL PERFORMANCE\nOnce more a hand had touched the spring. Once more the meeting vibrated\nto a universal shock. Mr. Gumama signed to the fruit-peddler and a brace\nof laborers that they provide themselves with lengths of rope and the\nthree withdrew to a position across the stairhead from the man with the\nknife, where they, too, waited in the shadow of the walls. Confiding in\nthe sharpshooters at the window Mr. Gumama had the sailors called\nupstairs.\nMeanwhile the man at the door, happily unaware of the preparations for\nreceiving him above, came lounging inside with his hands in his pockets;\nand Mrs. Pascoe, whose greeting had shown some slight surprise at his\nappearance, laughed aloud. \"It's funny how it does become you! I can't\ndeny it!\"\nFor he had doffed his gentleman's attire and was dressed like the\nshabbiest laborer, the tawny, earth-stained shirt open at his throat\nagainst a red cotton handkerchief; his loose, frayed, dingy jacket had\nonce been of square, seafaring cut.\n\"I bet she picked them out fur yeh!\" Mrs. Pascoe jeered. \"She ain't one\nto miss the artistic touch!\" Her mockery took him all in. \"She'd be sure\nt' have yeh more uv a Dago organ-grinder 'n any Dago organ-grinder ever\nwas! But I will say you wear 'em t' the manner born!\"\nWell, truly, the swinging gold earrings, rounder than Mr. Gumama's, had\nbeen carefully tarnished; his bracelet shot its golden gleam from under\na ragged cuff; the cord of a scapular, scarlet against his olive skin,\nhad been torn and knotted, and a handkerchief in the Sicilian colors was\nthrust into a belt supple with age. But, truly again, they became him\nmightily. For in those weathered boots, of which the soles were almost\ngone, his feet gripped the earth with a loping, elastic tread like a\nyoung animal's; and when, at the disconcerting coldness of her greeting,\nhe snatched off his old cap and stood with it crushed flat in his\nnervous fingers the smooth and coal-black glitter of his head called her\nattention to the alertness of its carriage, like some prowler's scouting\nin the woods. Doubtless morning-coats and starched British linen are\nvery discreet garments. But the worn softness of those old borrowed\nproperties, in loosing the movement and the poise of his lithe body, had\nreleased some other change in him; something wild, light and strong,\nwith the strength of a hound and the lightness of a cat, which, in the\ndense jungle where he was about to enter, might yet stand him in good\nstead. After all, one does not dress as a Sicilian for nothing!\nParticularly when there are ladies about! Mrs. Pascoe was as much a\nwoman as any silkier petticoat and it must have been some such momentary\nglimmer of the national presence, of the primitive equation, which had\nwon her forgotten girlhood as it had once wooed and won her daughter's\nfancy. \"Well, I vum!\" said she again with tart amusement. Was he going\nto turn out a man? She leaned toward him all intentness. _Was he?_\n\"What yeh got up yer sleeve?\" she whispered, for she thought she saw an\nimpulse flickering in his eyes. \"Look here, my lad, you pluck up heart\nan' mebbe yeh'll win through yet. She ain't God A'mighty, whoever she\nis; she ain't got rid o' that Cornish girl yet, nor, p'raps she ain't\ngoin' to. She'll fin' she's gotta answer t' somebody in this\nworld--she's got her ma. An' I don't see but what, when all's said,\nshe's got her husband!\"\nHe drew back with that little viperish black motion of his head and she\ncautioned him, \"Now, now! Don't yer go puttin' those fellers' back up! I\ngot no doubt they mean well by yeh if yeh keep quiet. But they're\nnatcherul born devils--she's a natcherul born devil, as seems to me yeh\nhad oughtta know by this time! An' only thing fur you is to jus' lay low\nan' squirm through.--Yeh goin' to do what yeh can fur that girl out\nthere?\"\nHe turned from her with the impatience of a man tested beyond his\nstrength and as she went back to her solitaire her lips twitched. A man\ncame down past her and quietly but with tremendous dramatic\nconsciousness touched the arm of the slim figure in the doorway. \"You\nwill, above, attend the council!\"\nWithout a sign to her he followed the messenger. Putting out one claw\nshe clutched his cuff in her hold like a parrot's. She was looking in\nhis face for her answer and he made that motion, palm downwards, with\nwhich an Italian dismisses some slight unpleasantness. \"Ah, che voul\npazienza!\" he intoned as the messenger turned round, shrugging and\npulling mildly at his cuff.\nThe claw held. \"Ah, let 'em wait! An' don't yeh gimme none o' that\ngibberish--I been altogether _too_ patient, this good while!\" The\nmessenger beckoned and she lowered her voice. \"Yeh claim yer a gentleman\nan', as far forth as what that goes, I dun't say but yeh be. I never\nthought one o' yer kind was a man, exactly, but if yer be, be one now. I\nhadn't ought to let yer do it, but, if yeh can, do! An' if not, yeh got\nall the rest o' yer life to think what kind uv a gentleman y' are!--Yeh\ncan g'won up.\"\nDid she feel a pressure of his hand? Did she imagine a sharp breath\nthrough his whole body, like an outcry, like a pledge? Under his\nguide's disapproving glance his face was merely sulky and she could only\ngape wistfully after him as he was swallowed up into the dusky loft.\nAt any rate it was with these words in his ears that he found himself\nstanding, facing the light, and between it and him a blurred sea of\nfaces. The air, heavy from so many lungs, was thick with cigarette smoke\nand the odors of cheese, garlic and cheap scent; here and there the\ncruder and uglier features, expressions of gutter enmity or degenerate\nglee, sprang out like exclamations; here and there a jaunty pose, a\nbright tie, the treasurer's carnation or a pair of earrings reassured\nhim of a peaceful and joyous gathering. No! As he stood there, facing\nthat assemblage, there crept through his nerves a sense of being on\ntrial, of being a satisfaction to its lust and fear. The poor fellow\nlooked from one to the other of those fervid, luscious faces, great-eyed\nand full-mouthed, smiling a little, festivally decked, oiled and curled;\nhe was groping for some unguessed doom in their amusement, as if he were\nthrown into an arena which they watched, pleasantly; surrounding him not\nwith harsh horrors but with that horror of softness which hardness can\nnever equal. A nausea, a blind faintness, crept in upon him; where were\nthe hopes of Mrs. Pascoe, now?--A satisfied, panting breath, full of\nheat, rose from the crowd.\n\"Filippi Alieni?\"\n\"Suor servitor, signor.\"\nHe did not deny it!\n\"Filippi Alieni, are you duly grateful that you, an outsider, are\nadmitted to the Council of the Arm of Justice?\"\n\"Si, Signor.\"\n\"Filippi Alieni, twelve years ago was it not you who were admitted to\nanother council? You, who were brother in the law to Nicola Ansello,\nwere not you in Naples received into the bosom of the Honorable\nSociety?\"\n\"Si, signor.\"\n\"He admits it, he admits it!\" The cry broke forth, quickening dead wires\nand releasing muffled sparks. The old murmur swelled and grew and beat\nin little waves of angry, of fearful sound, trembling about the name of\nAlieni. Black looks, shudders of repulsion and denial began to translate\nthemselves into the curses of a dozen dialects; against Alieni all the\naccents of the south crossed fingers. Then there was a low whistle from\nsomewhere without. Every one started on guard. The lid of the hatch was\nsoftly lifted. The voice of Mrs. Pascoe was heard, dryly bargaining. It\nwas only some one come in to buy gasoline. The baited guest still stood\nsulky and utterly bewildered, searching their faces.\n\"So, you admit it! You, brother in the law of our chief, husband of our\nbasista, you joined the Honorable Society! You received the kiss upon\nboth cheeks, you accepted the salutation on the brow, you took the oath\nof the Omerta! That oath of humility and obedience, that oath never to\nreveal to any one, brother nor sister, father nor mother, wife of your\nbosom nor child of your loins, the secrets of the Society! Never to\navenge but by the Society's permission and your own hand any wrong done\nyou by any brother in the Society, nor ever, even on the bed of your\ndeath, dying from his knife, to denounce him to the police! You sang the\nsacred song\n    If I live, I will kill thee,\n    If I die, I forgive thee!\nYou took that oath and you broke it. You revealed a secret and you\ndenounced to the police! For you four heroes died! Yet you live--because\nyou were shielded by Nicola Pascoe. He forsook the Honorable Society and\nfled with you, you and your wife, and for love of that sister, whom he\nfeared to be condemned like you, has he lived an exile and a shamed\nman! And for this has the Honorable Society sought and found you at the\nlast--is it not so!\"\nHe knew better than to answer, this time. But his silence did him no\ngood. \"He denies not! He can not speak! He knows well his guilt! His\nguilty heart, it shows in his face! He has an evil eye!\" So howled the\npure-minded chorus, feeling that Mr. Gumama had had the floor long\nenough. Timid spirits began to call upon the saints for protection when\nthrough the hubbub there lightly threaded the clipped final syllables\nand soft, melancholy rhythm of some Parmesan; strangely netted out of\nthe virtuous north and lifting the tender chant, \"I demand the\nsuppression of Filippi Alieni!\"\n\"I demand--\" \"I demand--\" The loft was full of it. \"Let him be put to\nsleep.\" \"I volunteer!\" \"I volunteer!\" \"NO, I! I am the older novice!\"\nAnd then the Parmesan, \"I will put him to sleep and bear him to the capo\nin testa in our name!\"\n\"Pazienza! Pepe, the greed for glory is well. But be not too\ngreedy.--Admit, Alieni!\" thundered Mr. Gumama. \"All else is useless!\nAdmit! Admit!\"\n\"Oh, si! Si! Si!\" cried the young fellow, who had been standing as if\nstunned. And now he threw his arms above his head and rocked himself\nbetween them, with a transport that matched the crowd's.\nIt, too, was stunned by that simple admission into a moment's silence in\nwhich Mr. Gumama gave forth, \"You have said. You are condemned. Filippi\nAlieni, you must now be put to sleep.\"\nStill he took it quietly, stupidly, looking questioningly,\nincredulously, into Mr. Gumama's face. Then some instinct turned his\nhead and at last he saw and quite mistook the sentinel with the knife.\nHe gave a convulsive start and sprang through their hands like an\nuncoiled whiplash. As he leaped on the surprised sentinel the rope of\nthe little vendor caught him in its noose. Still there was a moment\nwhen he was the active center of a writhing knot, a centipede of men\nrolling, tearing and struggling upon the ground; bounding and falling\nlike one, tripping and throttling each other and kicking the wrong ribs.\nA babel of oaths and sporting outcries shook the place, pierced from the\nstreet without by the strains of an emulous organ-grinder jocularly\njerking out the tango. And then the noose tightened, the strength which\nwas only energy collapsed, and the struggling prisoner, prone upon his\nback, could only bite the hand which agreeably attempted a bit of\ntriumphant tickling. The bitten one, with an outraged shriek, caught him\na buffet between the eyes that made his head swim and then a train\nroared past and its infernal reverberations quieted all sound. When it\nwas gone the renewed stillness and the restored, dim light found the\nprisoner on his feet; upheld by a guard on either hand and safely\nlashed, from knee to shoulder, in firm-laced rope.\n\"Filippi Alieni, have you anything to say before you sleep?\"\nThe young man stood drooping in the hands of his captors, still\nbreathing desperately; not flushed from his struggle but pale and faint\nas if his blood were stolen by some hidden pain. His throat swelled with\na bitterness which he was now too hopeless or too spiritless to loose,\nand Mr. Gumama saw that it was doubtful if his question had penetrated\nto a mind that was one concentrated egoism. A barrel which Mrs. Pascoe\nhad emptied of its finery, was brought into the cleared space before the\ncourt and Mr. Gumama, examining it, ordered, \"Find a cover. And nails.\"\nBefore he repeated, \"Do you, then, make no request?\"\nThis time he shook his head, with a long automatic shake, playing for\ntime. Yet he had no hope. He had used himself up in that first spurt and\nthe spirit upon which Mrs. Pascoe had lately built sank slowly back\nagain till there was no life left in his face except, in the depths of\nhis dark eyes, a waiting, raging stillness of despair.--Mr. Gumama\nregarded him disapprovingly. \"You do not wish to make peace with God?\"\nHe answered with a grinding laugh and let his head drop down again upon\nhis breast. Even the organ-grinder had changed from the tango to the\nMiserere. Those present had piously removed their hats. Mr. Gumama\npointed toward the bonds of the two condemned men as if giving a signal.\n\"Wait yet a little!\"\nIt was the coo of the Parmesan. He had been diligently and amusedly\nstudying the last prisoner. \"I wish to ask him a thing.\"\nThe prisoner drew a quick, scared breath, but he did not look up.\nMr. Gumama, annoyed at the Parmesan for putting himself forward, tartly\nreplied, \"Ask, then!\"\n\"Alieni o' n'infama,\" said the Parmesan, pleasantly, \"what would you do\nto remain awake?\"\nThe crowd and the prisoner gave a simultaneous start. This was too much!\nThe cry of the crowd was a baulked tiger's. Regardlessly, the dark eyes\nof the prisoner leaped to those of the Parmesan and clung there with\ntheir bright questioning, tenacious as bats. Mr. Gumama turned upon the\nParmesan with a gesture like a blow.\n\"Oh, oh, oh!\" sighed the Parmesan, lightly reproachful. \"Let me speak,\nwho have thought of things. We of the Arm know a game of our own. It was\ninvented by the basista Alieni, and it calls itself the Duel by Wine.\"\nHe bowed low to Mr. Gumama. \"Sir, it is not our custom to bring\nevildoers here in packages and let them be warned of that which might\nbefall them so much the easier accidentally, after dark, in the rough\nstreet. So I suppose--what else?--that those two are to attempt the Duel\nby Wine. Yes? And that he who wins lives to suppress the traitor-leaving\nhim in the barrel on the wharf, signed with our sign? And bearing his\ntoken--that bracelet will do--to the capo in testa?\"\n\"It is the plan.\"\n\"And have you not one more plan? No? Sir--pardon!--you do not--in your\ngreatness you do not--reflect! There is, to us of the fifth paranza,\nanother danger. Enlighten us, sir, please, what this other is.\"\nHis look met and challenged Mr. Gumama's, upon whose face intelligence\nand admission reluctantly broke forth.\n\"Ah-ha! Is, then, the sentence of the Mother Society the only sentence\nthat we have to fear? Is there not a sentence that will strike at us\nand, perhaps, through us at her? The foe which has enchained Angelo's\nbrother, the foe from which, suspecting us not at all, Nicola flees--the\npolicemen of the Americans! Ay di me--listen, my dears! Does not this\ncold foe ever seek and question night and day, with pictures always in\nthe journals, for one who perhaps knows too much and who has a girl's\ntongue to talk? You think all will be well when you have suppressed the\ntraitor. What if there should be a danger deeper than the traitor? Tell\nus, sir, your plan about the pretty one, the little one, the little\nNancia--Oh, what name! Nancia Cornees!\"\nCHAPTER XIV\nTHE SICILIAN TRAITOR: \"YOU THAT CHOOSE NOT BY THE VIEW\"\nThe prisoner had never taken his eyes from the Parmesan's face. Their\nhope was so cruel that it might have been fear, instead. If, from the\nworld of responsibility, the girl's name penetrated to him with any\nmeaning he gave no sign. The same animal concentration abode in his\nclose stare.\nBut the new anxiety at once affected the meeting. Only Mr. Gumama,\nresenting this intrusion, shrugged, snubbingly. \"Clever youth, there is\na plan for her, wholly good. When the Signora Alieni expected her\nAmerican lover to travel with her she could not take with her his\nbetrothed--it would not have been seemly! So Nicola sends her to-night\nwith the gang of Roselli, which is soon, too, sailing for Brazil. There\nthey must restore her to himself. He knows not he will not sail. Very\nwell. She is slight but she is fair. She will do well for the Rosellis\nin Brazil.\"\n\"I do not--pardon!--I do not think of the Rosellis. What will she do for\nus?\"\n\"In Brazil? If she were a danger even there would not the Signora Alieni\nhave destroyed that danger?\"\n\"The Signora Alieni has never done such work--she has no practice.\nMoreover, be sure she fears what Nicola feared in the beginning--the\ncurse of his mother!\"\nA voice remarked, \"His mother is ugly and old. If she should die she\ncould not curse.\"\n\"True. But we are busy.\"\nBeppo began to exclaim, \"It is too bad! Time after time have I asked for\nher! I, too, love her and could be happy. And I need them like her every\nday! Why should she be sent to Brazil? I never have anything!\" He\nstamped with rage and his nose began to bleed again.\nOther young ricondeterros, complaining of the dearth of blondes, began\nto protest against Brazil. The Parmesan looked at Mr. Gumama with a\nsmile. \"Is she not a firebrand, eh? She who is so sought by the police,\nis it to the police she shall tell her story?\"\nBrushing the Parmesan aside the capo insisted, \"She is not of our\nnation. It is against the custom. It is a greater danger than she is.\nEven if she should meet, so far away, with men of the Americans, what\ndoes she know?\"\nThe Parmesan, now visibly measuring strength with Mr. Gumama, responded\nmerely, \"What is it, Beppo?\"\nBeppo, past the handkerchief he ostentatiously held to his nose, cried\nout, \"She knows everything!\" As this won him the center of the stage he\nproceeded in a series of sniffling shrieks, \"I will tell you! I am the\ncousin of Nicola. I am the friend of their house. I play much with Maria\nbut I watch and listen. Attention! She knows all, all, all! She seemed\nat first wrapped in the love of the basista. They slept side by side.\nShe made a promise to ask, of her own accord, for sleep; but then she is\nill and when she is well again she has some notion and she will\nnot--why? Because she wills to tell all she knows! She, too, has watched\nand listened! She knows my name--and yours, Giuseppe Gumama! Under her\nred hair she carries death for you, Antonelli! And for you--and you--and\nyou!\"\nThe meeting was on its feet, swaying with passion and fear and\ngesticulating, with congenial resolution, \"I demand the suppression--\"\n\"I, too!\"\n\"And I!\"\n\"And I!\"\n\"I demand the suppression of Mees Cornees!\"\nThe capo's authority was shaken in a paranza which was a paranza no\nlonger. Obedience was not what it had been in the Arm of Justice.\n\"Hands of the Arm,\" Beppo adjured, \"is she not now at our meeting-place?\nKnows she not that? Did the basista conceal when Nicola was made a capo\nin the Honorable Society? Knows she not that? Oh, friends of my blood,\ncan she not tell _that name_? By the body of Bacchus, I see her in my\ndreams! There is a shower of gold about her! If she is not for me, do\nnot give her to the Rosellis--let her sleep!\"\nThe meeting echoed, in one soft whisper of satisfaction, \"Let her\nsleep!\"\n\"S-s-ssh!\" said Mr. Gumama.\nHe said it instinctively, glancing toward the scuttle. But he realized\nthat the precedent of dealing solely with his own nation must now be set\naside; he heard the people's voice. Alas, he had also to baulk it of its\nDuel by Wine.\n\"Let it be so. Firenzi, you will suppress the traitor and deliver him to\nthe wharf. Choose two apprentices to help you with the barrel. Pachotto,\nyou will take Beppo and the brother of Antonelli's wife and proceed to\nour old meeting-place. When you have suppressed the girl Cornees bring\nback her token.\"\n\"Sir,\" the Parmesan again coolingly corrected, \"Nicola has still with\nhim some of his men and the Rosellis. There is but one man who, without\nsuspicion, can reach past these to the little Cornees.--Alieni o'\nn'infama,\" he pleasantly repeated, \"would you do this to remain awake?\"\nThe prisoner felt himself quiver as though he had been struck. He could\nnot control the hope which was almost a sickness that rose in him at\nthese words. He heard the popular cry surge up against him, hissing and\nprotesting; Firenzi and Pachotto were the most horribly excited for he\nand they were the only persons in the room not having a good time. His\nquick glances, furtive and secret, ran questing among the lips that\ncondemned him; when he lifted them to his questioner the sharp intake of\nhis breath promised his soul away. But Mr. Gumama turned upon the\nParmesan and told him that he forgot himself.\n\"Ah, sir, in private a word. Alieni, does he speak English?\" He broke\nhis beautiful Italian into a strange sound. \"Spik Inglese, Alieni?\"\nThe prisoner, trembling to oblige, responded in the same dialect,\n\"Unstan' Inglese!\"\nIt did not oblige--the Parmesan frowned. \"Unstan' Inglese verra goood?\"\nHe coaxed, winningly, hoping for a denial.\nNow the prisoner, though he understood English perfectly, was no fool\nand could see a possible weapon when it was put into his hand. \"I\ndeplore!\" said he, shrugging sadly. \"Heartseek! Unstan' notta mooch!\"\nAnd he tried not to vibrate with greed of what they should say.\n\"Va bene! Spik Inglese, us! Spik low! Oh, Gumama, let heem put da girl\nto slip--heem! Let heem tak' for token--Whatta she wear?\" he asked\nBeppo.\nBeppo considered and then pointed to the gold bracelet under the old\nSicilian cuff. \"But silvere!\" He lapsed into Italian. The girl had had\nthree silver trinkets--a ring, a locket, a bracelet. Nicola had taken\nthe locket, the ring she had lost. \"It ees time she loosa da t'ird!\"\ngrinned the Parmesan. \"Ssh! He ees leesten!\" Their voices sank to a\nwhisper. Inordinately acute though his senses always were the prisoner\ncould no longer understand a syllable.\n\"I go weeth Beppo an' Chigi. Let heem settle da girl an' tak' her\ntoken. Den _we_ settle heem an' tak' botta tokens! Tak' dem to capo in\ntesta for show extrra gooda faith in nama da Arma of Zhoostees. Den\nHonorrahble Soceeata embrass us! We done gooda!\" He inhaled with languid\nelegance and returned to the world a ring of cigarette smoke.\nStill the prisoner could not catch a word. The decision hung fire. The\nprotesting roar surged louder and louder and the cries of Pachotto and\nFirenzi became tiger cries. Mr. Gumama suddenly called to order. He had\nfound a way to satisfy the Parmesan and yet to maintain his supremacy.\n\"This meeting promised Firenzi and Pachotto a chance of mercy and a\nchance of service. This meeting keeps its word. The chance is to be now.\nBut for Alieni, also. Do not rebel. They were to enter on the Duel by\nWine. But for the Duel by Wine the basista Alieni has sent us three\ncups. Why should not the prisoner Alieni play at the game of his wife?\"\nHe had turned the tide. Their craving for games of chance, always\ntemporarily stronger than fear, anger or duty, flared into high fire.\nAgain was Mr. Gumama the popular man. Even on the prisoner smiles were\nlavished. And still for some crevice of safety, as if in every muscle of\ntheir faces, his eyes sought.\nThe meeting got happily to work, like a good child. It brought forth a\ndice-box and dice, a bottle of wine and, wrapped in a colored\nhandkerchief, two triangular knives. In that musical neighborhood\nanother hand-organ had long since followed the first; \"The Wearing of\nthe Green,\" which had made melodious the Parmesan's battle, now gave way\nto the Tales of Hoffman and the Barcarolle, a rhythm that swayed in\nevery busy motion and humming tongue as the prisoner watched the table\ncleared and the painted jugs set forth. Mrs. Pascoe was called up to\nfetch a lantern; as she withdrew all three prisoners were faced toward\nthe wall; Mr. Gumama took a twist of paper from his pocket, shielded it\nfrom view, and dropped a tablet from it into each of two jugs. Then he\nfilled them all with wine. The prisoners were turned round again.\n\"Alieni o' n'infama,\" called the Parmesan, blithely, \"you are very much\nafraid!\"\nHe knew it and sank his head on his breast.\n\"Cowards play well. They grow brave from fear. You will be desperate.\"\nThe young fellow shuddered. But he tried to keep his head clear.\n\"Cheer up, traditore! It is true our haste but sentenced you to the\nknife and the knife is quick. But do you not choose to risk a few drops\nand die wriggling--when, if you are lucky, you may live? When you have\nbut to strike, afterwards, a little soft blow to make your peace!\" The\nParmesan, snatching up a triangular knife and, despite the remonstrances\nof Mr. Gumama, one of the jugs, thrust them jocularly under the\nprisoner's nose.\nThe tormented fellow, with an uncontrollable gasp that spilled the wine,\nbent and kissed the jug. A burst of childish applause approved his\nenthusiasm. A dank moisture of relief broke out upon him. At least they\nsaw that he was resolved and would not fear to let him try. What was\ncoming?\nThe meeting had formed into a circle as for a cock fight. He, Firenzi\nand Pachotto and the table with the dice and wine were in the center.\nThe silent circle devoured him with applauding, encouraging glances. He\nwas horribly aware of the two other men, larger, heavier, perhaps\ntherefore luckier--the bigger the build, he had thought before, the\ngreater the luck!--They were all too still! What were they going to make\nhim do now?\nMr. Gumama himself took down a strap from the wall and tested its\nstrength.\n\"Firenzi, then you, Pachotto, then you, Alieni, you will appeal to the\ndice. He who throws highest will have first choice of the jugs. Of the\nthree who drink, one will live. It will take some time to settle this.\nThe meeting will disperse, but a committee will return. The man whom\nthey find alive will go with Beppo and Chigi and you, Pepe, to our\nmeeting-place and put to sleep that girl. Those not surviving will be\nsigned with our sign--but only one thrust for each paranza of this\ndistrict.--Filippi Alieni, what is the matter with you? You show no\nfeeling at what I say!\"\nFor all his brilliant, questioning eyes, it was true he looked extremely\nblank; his expression too often merely followed theirs with an opposite.\n\"Well, there must always be a first time. It is true, Alieni, is it not\nso, that you have never suppressed a life?\"\nThere are bitternesses which fear cannot quench. Having no free hand to\nbeat his breast he turned his head with restless passion from side to\nside and in a high, shrill, wild desolation, a Latin sweetness of\nhysteria roughened by his grinding laugh, he cried aloud, \"Mea culpa,\nmea culpa, mea maxima culpa!\"\n\"There is no need for irreverence!\" exclaimed Mr. Gumama, scandalized.\n\"That is all. Loose their bonds.\"\nFirenzi and Pachotto ran to examine the jugs, voting simultaneously for\nthe immunity of the golden scales--what others? So that the first choice\nwould be all important. But the third prisoner had given his last flash.\nHe dropped his shivering face and hid it in his hands.\n\"Sit!\"\nThey dropped beside the table.\n\"Swear obedience to the decree of Fate!\"\nAll three laid a hand on the crossed triangular knives. Mr. Gumama\npurposed the oath. \"Filippi Alieni, your lips shake so that you do not\nrepeat distinctly. Say, I swear!\"\n\"I swear!\"\n\"Rise!\"\n\"Firenzi, make your appeal.\"\nFirenzi started forward on a rush. But after a step or two he halted,\nglared about him as if just waking up, and then went forward, sagging\nlike a drunkard. Arrived at the table he crossed himself, shook the\ndice, and, whimpering, fell on his knees. His shaking hand crawled along\nthe table, groping for the dice-box and lifted it. The crowd, straining\nin upon him, buzzed. For the number was moderate. He had thrown a three\nand a two. And kneeled there, blubbering. The courage of the Honorable\nSociety does not remain fast in all washes.\n\"Pachotto, make the appeal.\"\nHe, too, started with bravado; he was perhaps half way across when they\nhad to catch and drag him forward. He threw wild and they had to support\nhis wrist. Even so one die fell underneath the edge of the saucer in\nwhich the box had stood. That in view was another two-spot. If, however,\nthat under the saucer were even a four he was ahead in the throw. They\nmoved the saucer--the die was a five. Pachotto leaped in the air with\ntriumph--Firenzi, yellow and cursing, tried to fold his arms. Frightful\nsounds issued from his throat, upon which the cords stood out.\n\"Alieni, you will make the appeal.\"\nHe who had been a gentleman drew himself together and came slowly\nforward. He was now the darling of the crowd. But he did not guess that;\nhe came of a superstitious tribe and to him, too, it seemed important to\nwin from the start. His soul trembled, but steadily and softly he stole\nto the table. Now he was arrived, looking down, one concentrated\napprehension, on his fate. Lifting the dice-box he once more threw out\nhis bright suspicious glance into the crowding faces. \"Whatever gods\nthere be!\"--he threw the dice. Over these he bent with a sort of sweep\nand then, uttering a sharp hiss, sprang up like a jack-knife. The crowd\nswayed, yelped and shivered with amusement into a triumphing crow. He\nhad thrown two sixes. Pachotto uttered a piercing yell and fell on his\nstomach in a dead faint.\n\"Filippi Alieni, of the jugs you have the first choice.\"\nHe stood as if nothing had happened. He had suddenly realized that his\nsituation was really more terrible than ever. Watching, watching, he\ncould descry no help. None of those alert, elated faces had a hint in\nit, not a congratulating hand pointed toward the fateful jug. He\nmoistened his lips and looked mechanically at the dice which had thrown\nhim this choice. But the dice, too, were dumb. Then, at last, he looked\nat the jugs.\nThere was the red design, the white and the green. His hand crept up and\ntouched the chord at his throat. Scarlet was her favorite! But did she\nknow? White--there was no luck in white. Green, the color of hope! Of\nresurrection! Yes, but to be resurrected one must first die! Red, again,\nwas blood-color--but there was blood at every turn! Whose blood did this\nstand for--whose? Ah, yes, the scales--the scales were different! Gold,\nsilver, and gray! The scales were very little, so it was they that held\nthe secret! Silver, gray and gold! Why gray? Silver--hadn't he heard\nthem whispering about silver? Why, there were some words--He dropped to\nthe ground with the jug, leaning on the table and pressing the scrolled\nlegend to the lantern.--Silver pays! Pays whom? Pays what? Oh, God, to\nunderstand! What was the other--gold? He was panting--his breath smeared\nthe glass of the lantern. It was dry and cut his lips like grass-blades!\nYet he reeked with cold sweat, it was running into his mouth! He wiped\nthe glass clear with one cuff. Steady! Take care! Can't you read, you\nfool! Gold buys. Oh, heaven, what would it buy here? Life--freedom--what\nelse would anybody buy? What was the sense of it, if it meant anything\nelse? But it might be a lie! \"She's a natcherul-born devil.\" It was a\nlie she would delight in! One chance! One! Everything on it--everything!\nNever to leave here--to die here--here, where no one would ever know!\nWithout doing what he had secretly meant to do, without ever having\nlifted a hand--to die in torment, squirming on the floor like a rat with\ntorn bowels--There was one other jug. Gray--what a color!\nGhost-color--was that what she meant? Lead slays! But, once more, slays\nwhom? Lead slays--lead--lead--Lead!\nA change passed over him. He became very still. Then, shaking with\nsuppressed eagerness, he got slowly to his feet. He put his dense hair\nback from his eyes. And those eyes, hypnotized by the little jug with\nits gray scales, never left it; drinking it up before he could raise it\nto his lips. His mouth gaped for it with hanging jaw. He raised it in\nhands that gradually steadied and then over its brim, he gave the faces\nthat fawned in upon him, breathless, one last look.--\"He has chosen!\"\nThey might be less than human, but he and they were still living\ncreatures; and, in ten minutes, what would he be? Beyond them were dusky\nwalls, built by human hands, chairs, a bureau, lithographs, all the warm\nfurnishings of life; windows into the world, into the swarming,\nchattering streets where the lamps began to glow, while from round the\ncorner came the clang of trolley-cars; whistles, calls, footsteps, were\nin his ears, laughter above the crash of wheels,\n    \"Give my regards to Broadway--\"\nThat was the hand-organ, tired of opera and getting down to business;\n    \"Remember me to Herald Square--\"\nIt filled the whole room! A lighted train swept by; he could see the\nfaces of people reading evening papers, people who complained at\nhanging on to straps! The roar of it was familiar and dear as a beloved\nvoice at home but it passed and left him quite alone.\n    \"Tell all the boys on Forty-second Street\n    That I will soon be there!\"\n--\"Choose, Alieni, choose! Drink! Drink!\"\nEverything passed from his eyes. He was blind as before he was born.\nThen his mouth was in the wine; he drank it to the last drop; the jug,\nwith a clatter that he heard perfectly but no longer understood, rolled\nat his feet. \"\u00c9 fatto!\" said he, in a low, clear voice. \"\u00c9 fatto--it is\ndone!\" And his face dropped into his hands.\nThe meeting came about him but he did not know it. Around one wrist a\nstrap was buckled and the strap's other end nailed to the table so that\nthe death-agonies might not wander too far. A like precaution was taken\nwith the other men when they had drunk. He did not notice it. He looked\nat the floor. Firenzi, upon whom chance had forced the silver scales,\ngave a horrible sound of retching and slid from his stool, the strap\nholding his arm. A quiver passed through the body of the first drinker,\nbut he would not look. The meeting picked up its lantern and\ntrooped--rather reluctantly but leaving the hatch open--chattering down\nthe steps. The hands of the Arm dismissed Mrs. Pascoe, fetched some more\nwine, cut some tobacco and sat down to the business of making bets while\nthey waited. He did not miss them.\nHe, too, waited.\nTwenty minutes later, in the darkness, the loft was quite still. Two\nbodies, horribly contorted, lay straining on their straps. The rigor of\ndeath was already settling upon those convulsive heaps. The faint\nsquares of the windows made a kind of glimmer by which it was possible\nto discern a pale face, a slight figure; this leaned against the table,\nwhich it clutched with hands of steel. He who had trusted to the leaden\nscales had trusted well.\nIn that darkness, in that silence, through that horror of squalid death\nwhich had not been silent, he had shed the rags of his hysteria and had\ncaught again the concentration, the keenness, the readiness of that\nmoment when Mrs. Pascoe had called on him to be a man. But what did he\nsee in those empty shadows, and for what did he nerve himself? The\nfigure there at the table was desperate, but it was very slight, and at\nthe end of no road--valor nor cowardice nor vengeance--could he see\nescape. They were all blocked, those roads, the program too close built\nand every knot too tightly tied. Whatever he might wish, there was but\none thing he could do. A knife was to be put into his hand and he had no\nchoice except to strike. After all that had passed it was perhaps even\nwith eagerness that silently, alone among those shadows, he embraced his\nfate.\nA stir began to rise from below; the men down in the garage were coming\nto pack the barrel. He heard the mounting footstep of his guard, ready\nto convey him to the secret meeting-place of the Arm of Justice; along\nthat road where it should deal with him, when he had dealt with Nancy\nCornish.\nCHAPTER XV\nONE WITNESS SPEAKS\nIt was fully dark under the sail-cloth of the table d'h\u00f4te. A strong\nsmell of rancid wicks disturbed nobody and in the charged, suspensive\nair the cheap lamps burned with a still flame. This may in part have\nbeen due to Herrick's tensely strung imagination, which Christina's\nmessage of the night before still mercilessly played upon. From that\nsource no drop of further information had fallen through Tantalus on to\nthe parched tongue of Herrick's nor of Wheeler's nor of the Law's\ndesire.\nThat afternoon Herrick had seen Stanley off from the station where not\nsix weeks ago they had met as strangers. And so little was Fate's veil\nlifted for him, even now, that he had no forewarning of when next, nor\nwhy, he should be there again!--Stanley had, however, told him Ten\nEuyck's latest news--how it was to the table d'h\u00f4te the Italians had\nconveyed their liberated prisoner from the Tombs!\nThe boy looked at his friend a little suspiciously even while he\nrepeated Ten Euyck's chagrin: \"That's a hideously shameful thing to\nhappen to me! It's the annoyance of a blind, stupid, brutal\nreproof--when I've worked so hard and suffered so much! Here, in my own\ndistrict--Under my own hand--!\" There are no unalloyed elations in this\nworld! Nor did there seem any doubt in Ten Euyck's mind that this was\nthe long-sought-for secret place, where they should find a\nprinting-press. But he forebore to raid it until evening, when all\npossible birds should have returned to the nest, and contented himself\nwith the sending of his disguised operatives peacefully to fetch from it\nWill Denny, before whose coming Stanley had fled the police station.\nThat young gentleman had also gathered from Wheeler's thunderstorm of\noaths that Christina's manager considered himself under surveillance.\nAnd this had made Herrick wonder if the same were not true of himself.\nOn account of his momentarily expected cablegram it was a crushing\nsuspicion. He spent an afternoon of aloof and goaded wandering, and at\nlast, shielded as he hoped by the darkness and by the company of a whole\ngroup of entering diners, yielded to the temptation of the table d'h\u00f4te.\nHe could not doubt it was encompassed by spies; he could not but attend\nthe seizure, the crisis, the outcome. Here, more than anywhere, were the\nlines converging; here, for to-night, was the center of the web. He said\nto himself, then, in his ignorance, that nothing mortal should induce\nhim to forsake it.\nUnder the sail-cloth there was no longer any room; but, within doors,\nsave for a couple of men at a distant table, Herrick was quite alone.\nThere was no change in the deportment of the place, no disturbance. The\nItalian proprietress, in her comings and goings, found time to reply\nthat the old lady was still in the country but her prototype, the little\ngray parrot, which he had not seen for a long time, was climbing in and\nout of its cage and the angelic children still snuffled about the floor.\nIt was on these innocents that Herrick began as usual to practise his\nItalian when the proprietress had gone affably to see about his order,\nbut if he thought one of them would lightly drop Christina's address\nhe was mistaken. Smother-y as the place was, with that same looming\nsultriness of a week ago, agitated in its daily business, its pulse did\nnot beat so hard as his, its imagination did not quiver, like the\nfigures of a cinematograph, reviewing the movements of a motor-car that\nuntil yesterday had sped through mire and dust and blood, through\nsunrise and midnight, past the spread, astonished wings of the marble\nHoover lions, past the smoking-ruins of a post-office, past Riley's\nwhere the shadow danced, after a will o' the wisp. There was no\nsuggestion, here, which could lift that phantom light; the customers\nordered, the little fat boy, next in age to Maria Rosa, leaned\nfamiliarly against his knee, the parrot continued to clamber over its\ncage, talking steadily, rapidly and monotonously to itself, and then\nHerrick said in surprise,\n\"Why, the bird's speaking English!\"\nThe parrot looked at him coldly, disinterred something which it had\nburied in its food-cup, gnawed on the treasure, and dropped it. The\nlittle fat boy picked it up and smiled at Herrick. Herrick said, \"Let's\nsee!\" It was a silver ring, holding a bluish-green Egyptian scarab.\nIt seemed to Herrick that he had heard of such a ring before, and he\ntried to remember where. One of the men at the further table left and\nthe other was buried in a foreign newspaper. Herrick got up and went\nover to the desk. That was English the bird was speaking. \"No, no, no,\nno! I don't believe it. I don't beli--\"\n\"Polly,\" said Herrick, \"what are you talking about? And what do I know\nabout this ring?\"\nThe bird burst into a shriek of the ungodly laughter of its kind, pecked\nthe ring out of his hand, backed away with it, dropped it again; and\nthen, out of a perfect stillness, with its little eyes fixed on his face\nit replied--\n\"Ask Nancy Cornish!\"\nCHAPTER XVI\nTHE LAST SHADOW: \"LEAVE ALL THAT TIES THY FOOT BEHIND AND FOLLOW, FOLLOW\nME!\"\nOh, yes, the Italian proprietress cheerfully informed him, the parrot\nhad been in the country with Maria Rosa and her great-aunt. Truly, the\ngreat-aunt was fond of the country, she was still there. When was he\ngoing to see Maria Rosa again? Oh, there, alas!--Maria Rosa had gone\nwith her father to the moving-picture show--\nHe could get no further and he feared to excite conjecture. He might\nwaylay the little girl as she returned, but not too near the watched\nhouse--nor was the idea of the father encouraging. Nevertheless, he\nbetook himself outside, turning toward Third Avenue where the\npicture-shows flourished. About two blocks down the street he took\nrefuge in the hole of a tobacconist, whose door stood open into the warm\ndusk. On the farther corner the bright blue interior of a delicatessen\nthat was also a fruit stand blazed hot with gas and, in exchange for a\nbottle of oil, a child passed a coin over the counter. The gas gleamed\non the child's face and Herrick crossed the street. Here was Maria Rosa\nand here the moving-picture show which she attended!\nHe stopped on the outside for some nuts and affected surprise when Maria\nappeared. She accepted various delicacies and was freely chatty about\nher country visit. Oh, she had been in a beautiful place; grass, trees,\nflowers--nothing of its whereabouts could be ascertained. Great-auntie\nhad lived there with old auntie--old auntie was her mama--when she was\na little girl no bigger than Maria Rosa! But they had gone often to a\ngrand big place where Cousin Nick's office used to be in the basement.\nBut the morning after they brought the sick lady the things for the\noffice were all gone! Ah, the grand big place had made the greater\nimpression, but ignorance had evidently been carefully preserved.\nHerrick tried the words \"Waybridge\" and \"Benning's Point\" to no avail.\nWith \"river\" he was more successful. Did you go there by the boat?\nApparently not. Finally it came out that you went there by the walk past\nold auntie's house. And what pretty thing had she ever noticed about old\nauntie's house? Eh? Come, now? What did she like best?\n\"The marble kitties with wings.\"\nThe marble--\nA child had dropped an address, after all!\nHerrick, reaching into his pocket for a time table, had discovered a\ntrain for Benning's Point at eight-fifteen when, hearing his name he\nturned; beyond the now hurrying figure of Maria Rosa Joe Patrick was\nadvancing toward him.\nThe boy came up hastily, extending an envelope addressed to Herrick in\nMrs. Deutch's hand. As he took it he saw that Joe was brimming with some\ncommunication. \"I saw you from down street. She sent for me an' says to\nbring you this. I was lookin' for you when I met Mr. Ten Euyck and he\nsaid the place to find you was around here.\"\n\"Touch\u00e9!\" Herrick said to himself. Even at that moment he vouchsafed an\nadmiring smile to Ten Euyck's able conveying of a taunt.\n\"Mr. Herrick?\"\n\"Yes, Joe.\"\n\"I got to get right back in time for the theayter. But I'd like to speak\nto you a minute.\"\n\"Walk back toward the Square with me.\"\n\"It's something I been worried about telling for days an' now I'm goin'\nto. I mean--Mr. Herrick, I wouldn't tell it to anybody but a friend o'\nhers! But I make out that it's right to tell it to you.--You remember\nthat night out to Riley's?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"An' the shadder the chaufers seen?\"\n\"Yes?\"\n\"I was there. My cousin Sweeney sent for me, an' my uncle an' me come\nout together. As we come into the yard--that toon--you know! There was\nthe shadder--I seen it, too! And another man seen it an' skipped up the\nsteps an' went inside. Me after him! An' before he'd got in, hardly, out\nhe bounced with a lady. That lady wasn't no Mrs. Riley, Mr. Herrick. It\nwas--_her_!\"\n\"You've seen the moving-picture?\"\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\"And this gesture was the same?\"\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\"So that you thought you saw Miss Hope's shadow?\"\n\"I know I did, sir.\"\n\"Wait. This gentleman, had you ever seen him before?\"\n\"No, I never laid eyes on him.\"\n\"He went right into the room?\"\n\"Popped right in as if he lived there!\"\n\"And came out with Miss Hope?\"\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\"How was she dressed?\"\n\"She had on a long coat an' a fussed up hat o' Mrs. Riley's.\"\n\"And no one else saw them?\"\n\"No, sir. They run down the back-stairs as everybody come up the\nfront.\"\n\"She was willing to go with him, then? He wasn't forcing her?\"\n\"Well, you bet he wasn't! She was hangin' right on to him!\"\n\"What was your idea of the whole business?\"\n\"I thought mebbe she done it for a signal to him when to come in.\"\n\"Now, Joe, don't you believe that--it being, as you say, done so\nquick--and you having just seen this shadow which you had taken for Miss\nHope's, you might have imagined it was she who came out with this man?\"\n\"No, Mr. Herrick. I was at the door when they come out. I saw her face\nclear. I didn't make no mistake this time.\"\n\"And you didn't follow?\"\n\"No, sir. Because--because--Oh, Mr. Herrick, she seen me as plain as I\nsee you an' she smiled at me!\"\nHerrick paused with a threatening cry. \"Why didn't you speak to her,\nthen? Why didn't you tell--\"\n\"Because, Mr. Herrick, when she opened her eyes wide and smiled at me,\nthat way, she put her finger to her lips! Oh, Mr. Herrick, I ain't ever\ntold a soul but you!\"\nShe put her finger to her lips! Secret she had ever been, and there was\nanother way in which Christina had never failed. She had never failed,\nin any stress of change or chance, to seize the measure of a devotion\nand use it to its hilt.\nShe smiled and put her finger to her lips! She pleased herself, then!\nShe was free! She came and went at her own pleasure! Secretly, with\ncompanions of her choice! While he, in the room below--That night, too!\nThat night of the road and the fields, of Denny and the yellow house!\nBitterness mastered him. An indifference like the indifference of sleep\nsomehow wearied him to the bone. After Joe's departure, when he stopped\nunder a street-lamp to open Mrs. Deutch's letter, he scarcely cared what\nit contained.\n\"--When you were not at home he sent this to me. Think you for yourself\nthe meaning for it. What in myself I believed and prayed, that\nafternoon, now in person have I ascertained. Christina was born in this\ncity of New York; she was baptized in the same month in the Church of\nthe Holy Service, April 17, 1892.\"\nHe unfolded Gabrielli's cablegram:\nGirl you inquire of victimized family named Hope, in America. They lived\nat Naples 1886. Record daughter born to Hopes, Allegra, not Christina,\nThe Hopes had had a child, that died three years before Christina was\nborn! What was the meaning in the case of this dead baby? And if\nChristina was Mrs. Pascoe's child, what had the death of Allegra Hope to\ndo with her? How could she have passed herself off on the Hopes for a\ndead child six years older than herself? He knew that somewhere in his\naching brain the answer quivered to spring forth, when--at about the\ntime when the Italians started with their prisoner from the garage--an\nopen taxi hesitated at the corner nearest to the table d'h\u00f4te and then\nspun on without stopping. As it passed under the lamp Herrick was just\nleaving, a veiled lady rose in it to her tall height and pulled on a\nlong, light coat. And all the pulses in his body stopped as though they\nhad been stricken dead. For his eyes had recognized Christina.\nCHAPTER XVII\nHERSELF\nThere was no other cab in sight. But fortunately a 'bus was just\nstarting, and bye and bye he plunged from that into a taxi. All the way\nup Fifth Avenue he continued to keep his quarry well in sight; flashing\nin and out beneath the lamps, the beautiful tall figure sitting lightly\nerect and neither shunning nor avoiding the public gaze. At first he\nthought she had come back to be well in time for to-morrow night, but at\nForty-second Street she turned toward the depot. She was making for the\nsame train as himself.\nA policeman, who should have died before he ever was born, let her cab\nthrough the block and held up Herrick's. He saw with horror that it was\npossible he should miss the train. Then, with a thrill of hope, that\nthey would probably both miss it. When he got to the depot there was no\nsign of her. He tore like a madman across the vast stretches and up and\ndown the flights of stairs by which modern travel is precipitated and\ncame to the gate. She was inside, just stepping on the last car of the\ntrain. Officials were shouting at her, enraged, because the train had\nbegun to creep.\n\"Tickets, tickets!\" said the man at the gate. He was resolute, and\nHerrick had to pick him up and lift him to one side. It took an instant,\nand now the train was under way. But Herrick, as a free-born male\nunhampered even by a suit-case, was privileged to risk his neck, and he\nflew down the platform and gathered himself to leap upon the car. His\nhand was outstretched for the railing but it never reached it. A single\nzealous employee plunged at him, roaring. The sound halted his quarry in\nthe doorway, and when she saw him she stepped back on to the platform of\nthe car, bending toward him with a look of eager amusement, and throwing\nback her veil. And Herrick lost his chance to jump.\nFor her face, framed in soft flames of red, of golden fire, was the face\nof a stranger. It was extremely lovely, but for one curious defect. She\nhad a blue eye and a brown.\nBOOK FOURTH\nTHE LIGHTED HOUSE\nCHAPTER I\nTHE HOSTESS PREPARING\nHerrick lay in the long grass of the wooded lot, against the wall of the\nHoover place. Already the night was velvet-black, and hot and\nthunder-scented as in summer. A million vibrations that were scarcely\nsound stirred with the myriad lives of leaf and blade in the dense\nsilence. And his expectancy vibrated too, reaching for the end of a long\nchase. His slower train had followed on the very heels of that malign\nand radiant red-haired changeling, whose mysterious brew he was at last\nto taste for himself. Not this time in a little yellow cottage beside an\nopen road, but in that great house, walled and guarded, deep and still\nin its own woodland, between the stone lions with their lifted wings and\nthe mighty current of the tidal river! What he should do when he got\nthere could be decided only by what he found. He had his revolver, and\nhe scarcely knew whether to pray that he might, or that he might not,\nhave need for it.\nHe remembered, tumbling over the wall from the inside, cascades of ivy,\nwhich he now hoped might give him a hand up the rough stone. But they\ntore away, one after the other, and sagged in his hold. He went on down\nthe field, scouting in the darkness for some friendly tree; when he\nfound one at last it was not so near the wall as he could have desired,\nand the first branch that seemed likely to bear him for any distance he\njudged to be about twenty feet above the ground. He crawled along this\ntill its circumference seemed so slight he dared not trust another inch\nand peered into the pit. There was no way to make sure that the wall\nwas there but to let go; he lowered himself the whole six feet of his\nlength; let go; landed on the coping; by a miracle of balance maintained\nhis equilibrium; and then, dropping cautiously to his knees, flattened\nhimself along the edge. When you have dropped on to a wall which might\nor might not be there, it is nothing at all to drop on to the earth,\nwhich can not escape. He stood up, at last, within the Hoover grounds.\nAll was perfectly silent; the noise of his descent, which had seemed to\ncrash like an earthquake, in reality had not waked a bird. He had now to\nmake his way to the house through about a mile of perfect blackness; as\na good beginning, he ran into a tree, and this rebuke of nature's seemed\nto put him in his place, and tell him to walk here like a spy, not like\na combatant. He went on, but now with infinite caution.\nThis part of the ground was as little tended as a wild wood; then\npresently he came forth upon an old-fashioned garden, run wild, but\nstill sending out sweet smells beneath his trampling feet; beds of white\ngillyflowers and fever-few and white banks of that odorous star-shaped\nbloom which opens to the night made a kind of paleness in the dark which\nperhaps he rather breathed and guessed than saw. It was an approach for\na Romeo, and seemed to cast a kind of dream over his desperate and grimy\nbusiness. He sped on to another little grove upon a rise of ground and\ncoming to the top of the slope saw, far ahead of him through the trees,\nthe shining of bright lights.\nHe could scarcely believe his eyes, for surely they would never dare to\nlight the house. And then again he remembered how far and lonely that\nhouse stood, a mile and a half in from the road, and save through the\nlodge or from the river how hard to come at! If this was really their\nhaunt it must have been so a long time; they must have grown used to\nit, like their own house. All the more chance, then, for his spying!\nExpectancy sprang higher. He kept on down the slope, this time at\nsomething of a reckless pace, and, at the bottom, plumped full into a\npond.\nThe shock was horrid and without even the dignity of danger. He could\neasily have scrambled back but that, as he re-opened his eyes, he found\nhimself gazing at a lantern, held up from across the pond. At that\nmoment three shots flew past him, aimed at the bank he had so\ninvoluntarily and violently quitted. It seemed well to remain\ninconspicuous as might be; the bullets began to skip close to him, and,\nexperimentally sinking, he found a fair depth and struck out under water\nfor the opposite shore.\nIn the middle of the pond his hands touched a solid and terrifying\nobstruction. Heavens, what was this? Through what snares did he clumsily\nstruggle to make his way? And in what nightmare? Involuntarily he came\nto the surface and found himself confronted by a high, overhanging\nshape, bulking featureless in the darkness and chilling him with a sort\nof superstitious despair. The more so that he seemed to be grasping\nsomething shaped like a foot; his hand climbed a vast, cold leg and the\nnext moment he could have laughed aloud. He remembered, now, from his\ndaylight forays, an ornamental wilderness of rocks and ferns, across\nwhich he had once glimpsed a stone lady; seated, and bending forward\nwith a vase extended in her hand. The pond had been hidden by that\nwilderness; the vase had once been a playing fountain, and the lady\nherself sat on a rock in the middle of the waters. It was against this\nrock his hand had struck and it was her ankles which he thus ungallantly\ngrasped. He hung to them a moment, resting in her shadow, and then with\ninfinite precautions began to pull himself up those smooth, cold knees.\nShe was very large and dense, a bulwark between him and the spitting\nbullets; he felt her rocky island beneath his feet, and gave himself,\neven with ardor, to her embraces.\nThe light upon the shore split in two and one-half of it began to skirt\nthe pond at a brisk pace. He clambered across the stone lady's lap and\ncrouched, kneeling, in the shadow of her arm. Thus sheltered, his first\nthought was for the priming of his revolver. It was soaked through! He\ncould have cried out like a child! But already his breathing space was\npast.\nThe runner with the lantern had reached the spot where Herrick had\nplunged in and the surface of the pond was now raked with rays of light,\ncrossing each other and striking perilously near his refuge so that they\nsought out at once the breast and the bent back of the stone lady.\nHerrick, as he blotted himself down the rock, observed that on the\nfurther side the pond was edged by a coping of rough stones rising,\nperhaps, two feet above the water and irregularly surmounted by small\nboulders--the beginning of the ornamental wilderness. He came up close\nagainst the wall; his fingers wedging themselves in a crack between the\nstones, and his head, shadowed by a boulder, half above the water. Thus,\nas he could hear and was not likely to be seen, he had every advantage\nof that dangerous neighborhood. And also time for a somewhat chill\nreflection. Suppose the life were not knocked out of him in the next\nfive minutes, what use was there in going on with a useless pistol? It\nseemed even the outer grounds were being patroled or perhaps\nsearched--he remembered the light shining from the house--it came in\nupon him that something unusual was going on, and that he might\npresently succeed in being either the victim or the witness of a climax.\nThat thought was enough; his blood committed him beyond denial; and when\nthe searchers, without having dropped a single significant remark, began\nscouting their own fears, and, accepting the surrounding silence as\nempty of intruders, turned back through the artificial wilderness toward\nthe center of the estate, Herrick pulled himself out of the water and,\nsometimes on his hands and knees, sometimes upon his stomach, followed\namong the rocks.\nThe group with the lantern came out upon the carriage-way and paused. A\nhorse and two-seated wagon awaited them, the horse's head turned toward\nthe house; in the wagon sat Herrick's old friend, Mrs. Pascoe and the\nlittle old, old couple from the lodge. As the other men tumbled in the\nold lodge-keeper lifted up his voice: \"I ain't slep' out o' the lodge,\nnor your ma ain't, either, in forty years!\"\n\"Well, you'll have to to-night, pa,\" said Mrs. Pascoe. \"An' there ain't\nany time to talk about it, either.\" She added, \"You an' ma can come back\nwhen we're gone. Don't ferget M'ree's your great gran'niece by marriage.\nHave her visit yeh again.\" They were off and through the shrubbery;\nHerrick followed.\nBut the carriage-way was clear of everything save errant weeds and at an\nordinary trot they very easily distanced him. After a while he ceased to\nhear the wheels, but now again he could see the house shine among the\ntrees, and as he came closer still he listened for the sounds of their\narrival but heard nothing.\nIt was extraordinary what a stillness had again fallen upon the night.\nNo sound covered his approach, and when he came at last in view of the\ngreat entrance no wagon waited on the path nor did any voice challenge\nhim from the doorway.\nHe stood among the trees and stared across the wide sweep of\ncarriage-way. He saw on either side depths of lawn, kept cut and roughly\ntrimmed, merging at last again into the darkness. The drive was bright\nfrom the great glowing portico, and from the entrance doors set wide\ninto a stately hall; the hall was all in order as though for a\nreception, with rugs and palms and candelabra, and to its left a vast\napartment like a ballroom flung from its long open windows, that crossed\nthe left front of the house and shone far along the side, spaces of\nlamplight down the terraces. Save for one pane gleaming overhead, the\nrest of the house stood dark, as if unoccupied. But in that still yet\nquivering night, in that dense, black, vast but sultry silence, this\nmade a great illumination, and that wing of the old mansion seemed to\nblaze like a palace in a wood; in the lack of sound or motion, it seemed\nswept, opened and made ready by enchantment, and waiting for the\nconqueror. It had indeed so great an air, so composed, so ordered, and\nof such stately openness that it seemed to rebuke suspicion; surely law\nand seemliness were on its side and not that of the dark, soiled,\nmuddied, creeping figure that skulked, staring, in the shrubbery like a\nthief in the night; totally confounded, oppressed by every terror of the\nhouse-breaker and yet with empty hands. But the bright house, which\nshould have threatened, invited him with every luster.\nHe was a fool, if you wish, but at least he knew his foolhardiness to\nthe core. The wagon he had followed must have passed the house and gone\non toward the river, but this bright vacancy and quiet had not been\narranged for nothing. To go forward was most likely death; a death quite\nfutile and unremarked, and scarcely a breathing-stage in the wild story\nwhose blazed trail of ruin and murder he had already followed so far.\nWell, he had followed too far to go back. He was too near the goal; he\nwas too near the turning of the page, and, as far as was mortally\npossible, he must read it.\nThe empty drive, the empty hall, the empty, shining windows drew him\nlike wires, and, dropping back across the border of the drive to a\nfar-lying depth of shadow, he crossed it like a ghost; taking advantage\nof every unclipped shrub and moldering urn, began to mount the terraces.\nThus at last he came to the long windows, and huddling at one side,\npeered in. He saw a proud interior, brilliant and pale, with panels of\nlatticed glass, after the French fashion, and other panels frescoed with\nPierrots and Columbines and with great clusters of wax candles set\nbetween the panels. There was a great chandelier with swinging prisms\nreflected in the floor that was waxed like satin; but this chandelier\nwas not lighted, and indeed everything suggested that they had never\ndared to use any electricity, for which they would have to work the\npower-house on the estate. But the clustered candles and the many lamps\nmade the place afloat with liquid gold, and the room trembled and\nbloomed with the scent and the beauty of hot-house flowers, so that the\nair seemed to shimmer with their sweetness. There was little enough\nfurniture; a golden grand piano with Cupids painted on it; a few chairs\nfrom which Herrick guessed the holland had but lately been removed; and\nnear the huge, rose-filled fireplace, a little table, gleaming with\nsilver and linen, with lilies and crystal and lace. It was set for two;\nclose at hand was a serving-table with silver covers showing on it, and,\nfor a practical and modern touch, a chafing-dish! There was no one in\nthe room.\nBut the table was hint enough. Here was the center of these\npreparations. Here two people were to meet, and Herrick thought he knew\nthe hostess. In the departing wagon-load, there had been no beautiful\ntall figure with red hair. To this little private festivity Fate had led\nhim through the rough magic of his scramble in the night; she pointed at\nthe table with a very sure finger, and now all his vague expectancy was\ncentered in a single question, and his first necessity was to behold the\nface of the red-haired woman's guest.\nNow at the first glance he had taken this room for a sort of music-room\nwhich had been used, too, for informal dances. And sure enough, along\none wall, just as though put there to tempt him to the final madness,\nran a little gallery for the dance-music. It had a balustrade about it\nand within this balustrade hung short yellow brocaded curtains, in a\nsort of valance, that seemed to Herrick strangely fresh, as though hung\nthere yesterday. And he determined if it should be his last move on\nearth to get behind those curtains.\nThere was no staircase to the balcony from within the room. He crept to\nthe hall-door; the hall opened out square as a courtyard with doorways\nand arches upon every side. At the rear the great staircase, after\nperhaps a dozen steps, branched off to either hand, and on its left a\nlittle gallery ran along the wall behind that very room and led to a\ncurtained niche. This would be the entrance to the musicians' balcony,\nand there was nothing for it but that Herrick should traverse the hall\nand mount the staircase. It was as if the house had turned to one great\neye; he thanked heaven for the rugs upon the marble and for the scanty\nshelter of the palms; while with every step he took and every breath he\ndrew the house-breaker dreaded to hear another footstep in his rear or\nto see an assailant rise before his eyes. But all remained vacant and\nwas as silent as the tomb. Running up those marble steps, he came at one\nbound to the curtained niche, and, as he darted in between its hangings,\nhe had a strong inclination to laugh; for, if there were any one within,\nit would be quaint to see whether he or they were the more startled! But\nthere was no one there. He had now his private box for the coming\nentertainment. He dropped softly to the floor and, as he did so, some\none in the room below struck a match.\nIt startled him like the crack of doom. He parted the little curtains of\nthe valance, and beheld himself so far right that there stood the\nred-haired lady lighting the chafing-dish.\nHerrick was not more than about nine feet above the flooring of the\nroom, with the main door from the hall to his right hand and the\nfireplace on his left, so that the little glittering table was before\nhim and to the left of him but a few feet. And there the red-haired\nwoman blew out the flame she had kindled, as if she had but meant to\ntest the wick. It was Herrick's first long clear look at her and he\nlooked hard. The resemblance to Christina lay only in a very striking\nsuggestion of the tall figure, a pose, a poise, an indescribable\nlightness and sense of life; they had the same gracious, gallant\nbearing, the same proud carriage of the head, and he suddenly realized\nthat he was looking at one of Christina's gowns. For the rest, she was,\nof course, six years the elder, and her equal slenderness was much more\nrichly hued and softly curved. Handsome enough, her face at once\nattracted and repelled by the diverse coloring of the eyes. It was a\nface at once selfish and fierce and soft, with the softness of a woman\nwho is fashioned from head to foot in one ardent glow; a softness like a\npanther's. In the flame-white allure of sex she struck straight at you,\nas undisguised and challenging as lightning, and, to any but a\nmonomaniac, as soon wearied of. It seemed that she could never be\nsatisfied with her preparations. She walked about the room, touching and\nre-touching the flowers; over and over again she scrutinized the\nappointments of the table; lifted the silver covers; peered into the\nchafing-dish, and tested the champagne in its bucket of ice. At last she\ncould find nothing more to do. Through all her coming and going, she had\nseemed to be mocking and triumphing to herself; humming, singing and\neven whistling very low with her mouth pursed into a confident and\nquizzing little smile, or inclining her bright head, in victorious\nscrutinies, from side to side; so that it seemed the guest must be very\nwelcome and, if she were bent on conquest, the conquest very sure.\nShe was not yet gowned for a festival, and, remembering the light in the\nroom above, Herrick, grim as the hour was, smiled to imagine that here\nwas to be played a little domestic comedy like thousands that go on in\nHarlem flats and tame suburban cottages; the servantless hostess\nsatisfied at length about her cooking and her table and flying upstairs\nat the last moment to dress for company. So indeed she turned to fly,\nbut then her mood changed. She whirled round upon the vacant table, her\ncomedy, her mockery quite fallen from her, and given way to a black\nhate. All her quick humors swarmed in her, in a threatening storm; she\nwas not so much like a woman as like a great, bad, lovely, furious child\nthat runs its tongue out in defiance. But there was a power in this\ndefiance like the power in that soft panther of her grace. So that it\nwas a sort of curse her swirling movement cast upon the pretty table as\nshe flung one arm up and out above her head; the hand clinched, and then\nthe fingers slowly spreading and stiffening in the air. Then she went\nout of the room and up the stair and overhead.\nHerrick, scarcely knowing what he did, rose to his knees! Just then, he\nthought he heard a slight noise behind him. As he turned, something\nstruck him on the head; he fell millions of miles through a black horror\nstabbed with pain and forgot everything.\nCHAPTER II\nTHE EXPECTED COMPANY\nWhen he came to himself he was trussed up like a bundle, with arms and\nankles tied too tight for comfort. He still lay on the floor of the\nmusicians' gallery and the room below him was still lighted. He rolled\nover and again could look through the valance. Only a little time must\nhave elapsed, for the room was still empty.\nAnd with the sight of that emptiness, questions poured in upon him. Who\nhad found him out? And for what fate was he reserved? How long did they\nmean to leave him here and why did they leave him here at all? Why had\nhe not been finished and done with? There struck through him, with\nperhaps the first utter and broken fear of his life, the depth of the\nsilence by which he was again surrounded. No breath, no stir; that\nintense stillness was vivid as a presence and positive like sound; he\nwas alone in it; he lay there helpless; a bound fool and sacrifice in\nthe bright house, in the middle of the wood and the depth of the night,\nand, if those chose who left him so, he must lie there till he died. He\nlurched up and sat quiet, waiting for the dreadful giddiness and nausea\nthat came with movement to pass by; determined to struggle till he got\nto his knees and on his knees, if necessary, to attempt to pass out of\nthat house. He knew it was impossible, but movement he must have. Then,\nthrough that density of silence, he heard a step upon the terrace.\nHis curiosity rushed back on him, like fire in a back-draft. He held\nhis breath; the step was a man's; it crossed the threshold of the great\ndoor and sounded on the tiling of the hall. The next instant the guest\nof the red-haired woman was in the room under Herrick's eyes.\nRemoving a long driving ulster and a soft hat, he proved to be in full\nevening clothes, and expectancy, held firmly down, lay mute and rigid in\nevery part of him. He lifted a face the color of tallow and, staring\nstraight at Herrick's balcony with blank, black eyes, the visitor drew a\nquivering breath. This visitor was Cuyler Ten Euyck.\nThe sound of his entrance had evidently been remarked. Again there was a\nlight footstep overhead, and Herrick guessed that enough time had\nelapsed for the toilet to have been completed. The hostess came forth at\nonce, and could be heard slowly, and with great deliberation, descending\nthe stairs. Ten Euyck did not go to meet her. Only his eyes traveled to\nthe door and he stood stiff, with little swallowings in his throat.\nHerrick could hear, as she came into the room, a swish, a tinkle about\nher steps as though she walked through jeweled silk, and before her on\nthe waxed and gleaming floor there floated a pool of additional\nbrightness, so that he saw she had not been satisfied, after all, with\nthe lighting of her supper-party, but carried a lamp to her own beauty\nas she came. Another step and there swam into his sight the beautiful,\ntall figure, carrying her lamp high, and incomparably more than before\nthe mistress of that great apartment. This time it was Christina\nherself.\nCHAPTER III\nTHE SHIPS AT ACTIUM\nShe stretched out one arm, keeping Ten Euyck at the tips of her fingers.\nHe seemed content to stay so, looking at her.\nShe was dressed in a trailing gown of silken tissue that was now gold,\nnow silver, as the light took it; but the long vaporous slip beneath was\nof pale rose; molded to her motion and stirring with her breath, there\ndwelt in the gauze which covered her a perpetual faint flush. The stuffs\nwere cut as low about the breast as if she had been some social queen,\nand her fair, pale arms were bare of gloves. Their adorable young\nflatness below the gleam of the slim, smooth shoulders, was now\nshimmered over and now revealed by short fringes of silver and gold, of\ncooler colored amber and crystal, which were their only sleeve; and\nthese fringes hung about the borders of her gown and trembled into music\nas she moved. In the high-piled softness of her hair, diamonds glimmered\nlike stars in a fair dusk; diamonds banded her brow in an inverted\ncrescent; diamonds and topaz dropped in long pendants from her ears;\ndiamonds and pearls clung round her arms; the restored necklace drooped\ndown her breast, and the peep and shine of jewels glanced from her\neverywhere like glow-worms. She seemed to be clothed in fluctuant light,\nand yet it could not dim one radiance of her beauty. This was more than\nnewly crowned; the rose was fully open; her loveliness had spread its\nfolded wings and come into its own. There was no shyness now in those\nwide eyes; her spirit shone there, all in arms, and moved with a new and\ndeeper strength in her young body. Very faintly, on the pure and\ndelicate oval of her cheek, burned the soft, hot stain of rouge. This\nwas the reality of the dear ghost, calling in the night with the rain\nupon its face; this was the pale girl in the gray suit who had once sat\nbeside her mother in the corner of the coroner's office. It may be Ten\nEuyck thought of this; it may be she did.\n\"Well,\" she said, \"have I made myself fine? Do I please you?\"\nHe broke from his trance, took the lamp out of her hold, set it on the\nmantelshelf, and returned to her without a word.\n\"Pray speak!\" she said; \"I am all yours!\"\n\"Christina!\" he broke out, and caught and covered her hand with kisses.\n\"It is quite true. Do I do you credit?\n    \"Look at me here,\n    Look at me there,\n    Criticize me everywhere--\"\nHe leaned toward her and she swayed past him to the piano. Over her\nshoulder she sang to him--\n    \"From head to feet\n    I am most sweet,\n    And most perfect and complete!\"\nShe struck the chords a crash and whirled round to him with her hands in\nher lap. \"Yes, it is quite true. From my head to my feet--\" here she\nthrust forth through the music of the shaken fringe a slim gold shoe\nwith its buckle winking up at him--\"you have paid for every rag I stand\nin.\" Christina's accent upon the word \"rag\" suggested that she was\naccustomed to standing in something much better. \"It would be hard if\nyou were not suited. Would you like to go to your room a moment? It's\nall ready.\"\nHe must have considered this jabber at somewhat its true worth, for what\nhe did was to draw up a chair and take and hold her hands. \"Christina,\"\nsaid he, studying her face, \"do you hate me so much?\"\nShe remained a moment, silent. Then, \"Yes!\" she said. \"I am a good\nhater!\" And she smiled at him, a soft, stinging smile, with her eyes\nlingering on his.\n\"And yet you come--willingly--to me?\"\n\"Willingly?\" she said. \"Oh, greedily!\"\n\"Of your own suggestion?\"\n\"Of my own suggestion.\"\n\"And on my terms?\"\n\"Ah, no!\" she cried. \"On mine!\"\n\"Well, then, for simply what you know I have?\"\n\"For that,\" she said, \"and nothing else.\"\n\"Great heavens!\" he cried. \"You're a cool hand!--You, who value yourself\nso well, are willing to pay so high for it.\"\nShe replied, \"To the last breath of my life!\"\nHe leaned down and kissed her wrist and then her arm, and she sat quiet\nin his grasp.\n\"What are you thinking of?\" he asked, looking up.\nShe replied, \"Of other kisses.\"\nHe sprang to his feet with a kind of snort, going to one of the windows,\nand Christina purled at his broad back, \"Don't be angry. How can I help\nwhat I think? Have I not kept my part of the bargain? Have I not come\nhere to meet you without another soul? To a house I never saw before?\nThat you tell me you have hired? In a sort of wood, at night, quite\nalone, not even a servant--although I must say everything seems to have\nbeen well arranged and left quite handy! Would you like some supper,\nnow? If you ordered it, I am sure it must be good. I am very obedient.\nAll the same, I am rather hungry.\"\nHe came back to the table with the little pink line showing about his\nnostrils. \"I do not mind your not desiring me,\" he said, \"and perhaps,\nafter all, I shall not mind your desiring another man. As you say, it is\nnot a question of what you desire, but of what I do. Well, Christina, I\nam satisfied with your preparations for me; do you approve mine for you?\nYou shall have servants enough, Christina, when I am sure we may not be\ntraced by your sister's gentry! How do you like my trysting-place? You\ngave me very little time. If you consider it a cage, is it sufficiently\ngilded?\"\nChristina drew a long breath. \"It's wonderful. A palace--wonderful!\nSurely I was born to walk rooms like these! And a far cry from the\nlittle boarding-house I lived in when you first met me! God knows,\" said\nChristina, in a voice that trembled, \"I am glad to be here!\"\n\"You like it then?\" he cried eagerly. \"It's for sale. It shall be yours\nto-morrow!\"\n\"Give me some wine!\" she said. \"I am tired!\"\nHe looked at her and said, yes, she was right; and she would better have\nsomething to eat.\nThe wine brought back her brightness; it was she who lighted the wick,\nheated the supper, and set the smoking chafing-dish before him. Till it\ncame to the serving she would not let him stir and he could only lean\nforward on the table, looking and looking at her. During this she said\nlittle enough, except that he must be sure to praise her cooking, for\nshe had always boasted she could be a good wife to a poor man! But once\nshe was seated she poured out a stream of chatter which he sometimes\nanswered and sometimes not, being intent upon but one thing, and that\nwas to drink deeper and deeper of her presence.\nNow through much of this Herrick lost sight of them, for he had come\nupon an interest of his own. He had discovered in one of the balusters\nagainst which he lay the jutting head of a nail. Never was an object,\nnot in itself alluring, more dearly welcomed. For he saw that his legs\nwere bound with only the soft cord that had once looped back the\ncurtains between the inner and the outer balcony; there must have been\ntwo of these cords, and if his arms were but fastened with the other the\nedge of the nailhead might make, in the course of time, some impression\nupon it. He sat up and found the nail of a good height to saw back and\nforth upon, and if it did not convincingly appear that any effect would\nbe made upon the cord, at least it provided him with a violent, if\nfurtive, exercise. This was better than to lie there and let those below\nsaw upon his heart instead.\nBut he must stop at last from pure exhaustion; and at that moment there\nwas the sound of a chair pushed back. \"I thank you for your\nhospitality,\" said Christina's voice. \"But, now to business. I have\nplayed in too many melodramas to sign a contract without reading it. The\nyacht sails at sunrise?\"\n\"Or when you will.\"\n\"And takes with her Allegra and Mrs. Pascoe and whatever of their tribe\nthey choose?\"\n\"Safely and secretly to Brazil! They have chosen their own crew. They\nmust be aboard of her already.\"\nAt such words as these Herrick may well be said to have picked up his\nears. He heard Ten Euyck go on:\n\"She is yours, Christina; and theirs if you choose to make her so!\"\n\"You are very generous!\" said Christina dryly. \"But there is only one\nway I can be sure of the end of all this. You know what is most\nimportant to me.\" Herrick, leaning against the banisters had got his eye\nto the opening in the valance again, and he could now see Christina with\nher hands in her lap facing Ten Euyck. \"Have you got that letter?\" she\nsaid.\nTen Euyck gave his breast a smart rap so that Christina, being so near,\nmust have heard the paper crackle there.\n\"Very well,\" said she; \"so much for the District-Attorney's mail!\"\nHe stood up, and his voice croaked with triumph as he talked.\n\"Christina,\" he said, \"I have brought you that letter--it's the price of\nmy professional, my political honor; it's bought with my disgrace, with\nmy career! But I have brought it. I'm ridiculous to you, Christina, but\nwho got it for you? Your friends, the Inghams? your admirer, Wheeler?\nyour poor fool of a Herrick? your cherished jail-bird, Denny?--No, I\ndid! This letter that I have here Ann Cornish fell ill guarding, for her\nvengeance. You stole and lost it. Your enterprising family broke into a\npost-office to get it back. But the despised policeman brings it to\nyou.\"\n\"You got it by accident, you say,\" commented Christina. \"Don't forget\nthat!\"\n\"Forget! I shall never forget the triumph of catching that gang,\nalthough I renounce it at your bidding. I shall never forget your\nmessage when the letter was barely in my hands!--\n\"'I know now that I am come of a family of criminals. My pride is in the\ndust, as deep as you could wish it. If you do not help us, if it must\ncome out that I am tied to blackmailers whom you will catch and send to\nprison, I shall die of it!' Christina, can I forget that?\"\n\"No,\" said Christina, \"I never thought you could.\"\n\"And you will remember my answer, my dear! That I had the proof, the\nletter in my hand, to publish or to destroy, as you should choose. You\nhaven't forgotten that?\"\n\"No,\" said Christina again. \"But the destroying, that's the thing!\nYou'll burn it?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"Before my eyes?\"\n\"Of course.\"\n\"To-night?\"\n\"To-morrow!\"\nShe seemed, for a moment, to take counsel with herself. \"Very well.\"\nAn extraordinary limp helplessness, a kind of dejection of acquiescence,\nseemed to melt her with lassitude at the words. It was enough to sicken\nthe heart of any lover, and even Ten Euyck cried out, as if to justify\nhimself, \"Ah, remember--you gave me the slip once before!\" And at the\nmemory he seemed to lose all control of himself, falling suddenly\nforward, clinging to her knees and hiding his face in her skirts.\nShe sat for a moment motionless. Then, with fastidious deliberation, as\nif they were bones which a dog had dropped in her lap, she plucked up\nhis wrists in the extreme tips of her fingers, and slowly pushed him\noff. \"Quietly!\" she said. \"You are one who would always do well to be\nquiet!\"\nHe sat on his heels, the picture of misery, already ashamed and almost\nfrightened at himself. And suddenly, \"Christina,\" he whispered, while\nanother flash branded itself across his face, \"whose kisses were you\nthinking of?\"\nShe did not, at first, understand; and then, remembering--\"I will take a\npage from your book. I will tell you to-morrow.\"\n\"Was it Denny?\" he snapped.\n\"Denny?\" said she, abstractedly. \"Will? God bless me, no!\"\nHe sighed with a kind of vacancy. \"You could easily tell me so!\"\n\"Well, then,\" said Christina, with considerable temper, \"I will tell you\nsomething else. When I came here to-night, that I might not die of my\nown contempt I promised myself one thing. I swore to that girl I used to\nbe, who carried so high a head she could not breathe the same air with\nyou and never thought to stand you miawling and whimpering here about\nher feet, that at least I should tell no lies of love. There shall never\ncome one out of my mouth to you and may God hear me. So if I do not tell\nyou the man I thought of, it is only because I can not bear to speak his\nname in this place!--But rest easy! I am very capricious. Things will be\ndifferent to-morrow. To-morrow, if you still think it interesting, you\nshall know.\"\n\"Know!\" he cried. And catching her arm, looked at her with a baleful\nface. \"Yes, there's my trouble! What do I know of you at all! I met you\nonce four years ago--well, I forget myself, I know it! But did I?--Were\nyou even then--? Well, at the inquest, at that reception, in the\nstation, holding to Denny, the night of your performance, and now,\nto-night! There's my knowledge of you! You dazzle, you befool, you drive\nme crazy, and you leave me empty--why should I throw my life away for\nthat! After all, where were you when all New York was looking for you?\nNearly a week! Where were you?\"\n\"Where was I!\" Christina cried. \"Well, it's rather long. But does not\nthe favorite slave always tell stories to her master? Listen to\nScheherezade.\"\nThen, for the first time, Herrick heard the story of Christina's visit\nto the yellow house; how she had determined that Allegra must tell the\nauthorities, in Denny's behalf, the story of his provocation against\nIngham; how then, hidden in Nancy's, she had found Allegra's hair and\nguessed everything. \"Then it seemed that the first thing was to get\nNancy away, quietly, without warning, so that there should be no danger\nto her. I thought that then I could manage Allegra.\" She had had Allegra\ncome into town for her performance, and go straight from it to the\nAmsterdam, up to Christina's apartment in Christina's name; following\nher there she had slept on the couch, and slipped off early in the\nmorning. Suspecting the identity of the motor, she had telephoned for it\nas though to meet them both, and now she went on to tell Ten Euyck of\nher attempt to deceive Mrs. Pascoe, as though she had come from Allegra,\nand of her imprisonment in the closet.\n\"Ah, that wretched necklace! I said to myself, 'If it comes to a fight,\nthey may find it and take it from me.' And then I should really have\nbeen in your power! I buried it in the flower-pot, thinking to come back\nwith reinforcements!\" She told of the flight in the rain, and of the\nfarmers who wouldn't wake up. Both men listened, absorbed, staring. And\nChristina said, \"I was afraid to go toward Waybrook, in case those men\nfollowed me. I ran toward Benning's Point. I feared the main road, too,\nand I thought I could follow the short cut. It is very hilly and broken\nand I had never seen it before in the dark; the sheets of rain were like\nthe heavens falling, and the wind beat out my last strength; I was mud\nup to my knees and I had on heavy clothes, too large for me, all\ndragging down with wet. Perhaps it all made me stupid; at any rate, I\nlost my way. Oh!\" said Christina, \"that was hard!\" and she put her hand\nover her heart. \"I don't know--it must have been hours--I ran and\nstaggered and stumbled and climbed! You are to remember I had had no\nfood all day, and little enough the day before. And by and by I fell. I\ngot up and on again for a little, but I had hurt myself in falling, and\nI fell again. And this time I lay there.\"\nTen Euyck lifted the border of her golden dress and put it to his lips.\nThe moisture of self-pity swam in Christina's eyes. \"Nancy!\" she said.\n\"That was worst to think of!\" In her own lip she set her teeth and soon\nshe went on--\"While I was still unconscious, a man came along with a\nmotor. Somehow, he didn't run over me; he found me. And he recognized\nme! He wanted the reward. He took me to his sister's; to that Riley's.\nThey gave me all sorts of hot drinks and things; I think they saved my\nlife. But when I tried to thank them, something very comic had\nhappened--I had lost my voice.\" Christina closed her eyes.\n\"Well?\" said Ten Euyck.\n\"Well, that woman said I needed sleep, so she sent her brother out of\nthe room--but she didn't send her husband. When she found I could not\nspeak, she pulled down the blinds of her room for fear some one should\nsee in, and said I needn't make a fuss, trying to get away, for she knew\nas well as any one I was mixed up with murder and trying to clear out.\nShe said she was not going to hold any poor girl that was in trouble,\nnot for the few hundreds he would give her out of that reward. She was\ngoing to let me go. 'But first,' said she, 'I'll thank you to hand over\nthat diamond necklace!'\"\nBoth Ten Euyck and the unseen Herrick started and stared.\n\"She wouldn't believe me. If I didn't have it, I had hidden it since I\ngot in the house. 'Very well, if you won't do anything for me, I think\nthere's a gentleman who will. I think the party for me to send for is\nMr. Ten Euyck.' I wasn't ready for you, then, nor did I mean to be\nhanded over to you, like a thief done up in a bundle! But what was I to\ndo? I was still weak and she was between me and the locked door! I'm\ngrand at screaming,\" said Christina, \"but I couldn't even speak! And\nthen, out of the stones of the courtyard, heaven raised up a miracle for\nme!\"\n\"It was you, then?\"\n\"The shadow? yes. But how could I dream a friend would be going by? It\nwas just a desperate game, a wild chance! She had been telling me what\nan outcry there was, how I would be recognized anywhere, and about the\nmoving-picture, and how they played the march from Faust, now, at that\nfilm--and I thought of the reward and how there must be many looking for\nit. There was a piano in that room and I went to it, put my foot on the\nloud pedal and began to play. 'Oh,' I thought, 'will some one glance up?\nWill some one guess?' And then I threw the shadow on the blind! Before\nshe could do much more than drag me away, my unsuspected friend was in\nthe room. She didn't dare to try to keep me. He put a hat and cloak on\nme from her closet--oh, I'm sure he sent them back!--and snatched me\noff!\"\n\"And is this your idea of explanation?\" said Ten Euyck. \"Who was this\nfriend?\"\n\"Ah,\" she said, \"you ask too much! Leave something for to-morrow!\" And\nshe went and sat at the piano, with her elbows on the keyboard and her\nhead in her hands.\nThis was the first moment in which Herrick began to be sensible of a\nlittle hope. It seemed to him that the edge of the nail was beginning to\nmake some impression upon the soft silk cord that bound him. He ground\naway, desperately, but always there was the dread of any sound, and\nquivers of terror that the violence of his pressure might loosen the\nnail. The blow on his head made him easily dizzy, and as he leaned there\nquiet to recover himself, it was plain that Ten Euyck with a dozen\nquestions had endeavored to follow Christina to the piano, and been\nchecked where he was.\n\"No, we are both getting fussed. It is my right, perhaps, but hardly the\nman's. As for me, I'm all for decorum. Sit back and smoke and when you\nhave smoked you will not fidget. I will play and sing to you--yes, I\nshould love it!\" softly laughed Christina, her fingers moving on the\nkeys and her voice breaking into song--\n    \"I'm only a poor little singing girl\n    That wanders to and fro,\n    Yet many have heard me with hearts awhirl;\n    At least they tell me so!\n    At least--\"\nshe chanted, leaning with gay insolence toward Ten Euyck,\n    \"At least they tell me so!\"\n\"Christina!\" he said hoarsely.\n\"You like personal ditties! You shall have another!\n    \"You dressed me up in scarlet red\n    And used me very kindly--\n    But still I thought my heart would break\n    For the boy I left behind me!\nThat's too rowdy a song for a patrician! But I can sing only very simple\nthings! The one I always think of when I think of you is the simplest of\nall!--\n    \"We twa hae run about the braes\n    And pu'd the gowans fine;\n    But we've wandered many a weary foot\n    Sin auld lang syne.\"\nThe color rose up in her face and her eyes shone; her bosom rose and\nfell in long, triumphing breaths, and--\"Damn him!\" Ten Euyck cried.\n\"It's not me you think of when you sing that! It's Denny!\"\n    \"For auld lang syne, my dear,\n    For auld lang syne--\nIs it?\" Christina broke out. \"Who knows!\n    \"We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet\n    For auld lang syne.\nAh, that stays my heart!--Ten Euyck!\"\n\"My God!\" he cried. \"I won't bear it!\"\nHe had his two hands on her shoulders and as she continued to play she\nlifted up toward his at once a laughing and a tragic face. \"What does he\nmatter to you?\" she said, \"to you, the Inspector of Police! Aren't you\nhere, with me, and isn't he down and done for, and out of every race? As\ngood as dead?\n    \"He is dead and gone, lady,\n    He is dead and gone,\n    At his heels a grass-green turf;\n    At his head, a stone!\nCome, pluck up spirit!\n    \"Tramp, tramp, across the land they ride!\n    Hark, hark, across the sea!\n    Ah-ha, the dead do ride with speed!\n    Dost fear to ride with me?\n--'Dost fear to ride with me?'\" she sang, on the deepest note of her\nvoice, and turning, rose and held Ten Euyck off from her, seeming to\nstudy and to challenge him, and then, with the excitement and the wild\nemotion which she had kindled in both of them, dying slowly from her\nface but not from his.\nShe released him, and, going to a little table, unclasped her necklace,\nand slipped the strings of diamonds from her arms. The crescent round\nher head came next. \"What are you doing?\" he almost whispered.\n\"Unclasp this earring. Thank you!\" She lifted one foot and then the\nother and tore the buckles from her shoes. She did not hesitate above\nthat bewildering heap, but pushed closer and closer together those\nfallen stars and serpents of bright light. \"There!\" she cried. \"Are they\nall there? No--here!\" At her breast there was still a quivering point or\ntwo; she wrenched off the lace that held them and flung it on the pile.\n\"There!\" she said again, \"they are all there! My poor fellow, I have\nchanged my mind.\"\nShe walked away and leaned her forehead on the tall mantelshelf.\nWhence she was perhaps prepared to have him turn her round and holding\nher by the wrists say to her through stiff lips,--\"Explain yourself!\" He\nshook from head to foot with temper; doubtless, too, with the scandalous\noutrage to commonsense.\n\"There is so little to explain. I thought I could. I can't! It wouldn't\npay!\"\n\"Not pay!\"\n\"Oh,\" said Christina, indicating, with a scornful glance, the mirrored,\ngolden room and piled-up jewels, \"these were only incidents! Try to\nunderstand. Long ago, when I was a child, I set out to vanquish the\nworld. Not to belong to it, not to be of it, but to have it under foot!\nI was so poor, so weak, so unbefriended. I thought it would be a fine\nday when I could give this great, contemptuous, cold, self-satisfied\nworld a little push with my shoe and pass it by. It was a childish\nambition--well, in some ways I have never grown up! And to me, since our\nfirst encounter, _you_ have always typified that world.\"\nHe started back, and released her hands.\n\"All that I really wanted I won for myself last week! And Allegra stole\nfrom me when I saw her hair! You tell me that you can save it for me in\nsaving her, but it's not true! It was easy to think of you as the world,\nto feel that you were giving me yourself and it to play with! It's easy\nto imagine that you would be under my heel.--No, I should be under\nyours! I shouldn't have vanquished the world, I should be vanquished by\nit!--No, I thank you!\"\n\"And Allegra?\" he asked her, grimly.\nChristina shuddered and closed her eyes. But she said, \"Has Allegra been\nso tender to me that I should lose myself for her? Understand me, it\nnever was for Allegra that I came here to-night. Ah, Ten Euyck, I have\nbeen a good sister. It is time I thought of myself.\"\n\"Think,\" he replied, \"that she will pass from ten to twenty years in\njail.\"\nThe girl's face trembled as if he had struck it, but--\"Well,\" she said,\n\"you the upholder of the law--you shall judge. She lived off me--that's\nnothing!--But she lived off and bled others, and drove and hounded them,\nand made me an ignorant partner in it--that's something, you'll admit!\nAnd--Nancy! How about that? She lied to Will about Nancy and Jim\nIngham.--Come, isn't the balance getting heavy? She just as much killed\nJim as if she had done it with her hand; and if Will--dies,\" cried\nChristina, with a breath like a little scream upon the word, \"it is my\nsister kills him! I am stone and ice to her! When I saw Nancy's message,\nin that moment I knew who and what my sister was, and then and there I\nhad done with her! Let me hear you blame me! And yet,\" said Christina\nwith a change of voice, \"there is one more count!\"\nHer look had changed and darkened. \"When that crew of hers laid hands\non _him_--O!\" she cried out, suddenly. And flinging forth her arms\nburied her face in them.\nThe effect on Ten Euyck was electrical. Hitherto drugged and fascinated\nby the mobility of her beauty, the lights and emotions varying in it, he\nnow shot forward on his sofa as if, in a mechanical toy, a spring had\nbeen touched.\n\"It isn't possible!\" he cried. \"That calf! That milk-sop! Christina, you\ndon't mean--Herrick!\"\nShe let her arms fall, and without raising her head, lifted her eyes for\nhim to read.\nHe broke into a loud laugh that jangled, hysterically cold, round the\ngreat, brilliant room. \"And to think,\" he said, \"that all this time I\nhave thought of him as my pet diversion, my wittol, my moon-calf! It has\nbeen my one jest through all this wretched business to see the\nimportance of that great baby! To watch him industriously acquiring\nbumps and bruises, and getting more and more scratches on his innocent\nnose! I waited to see it put out of joint forever when you threw him\nflat upon it! I thought that we were laughing in our sleeves at him,\ntogether! When I had this appointment with you safe, I smiled to see him\ncareering up and down the country like Lochinvar in a child's reader.--\n    \"'He stayed not for brake and he stopped not for stone,\n    He swam the Eske River--'\"\nTen Euyck sprang up and catching Christina by the elbows snatched her\nsmartly to her feet and shook her till, on her slim neck, her head\nbobbed back and forth. \"What did you tell me for,\" he cried, \"if you\nhoped to be rid of me! I, at least, am no baby, and I have had enough of\nthis! Your dear Lochinvar is doubtless swimming and riding somewhere in\nthe neighborhood. But not within call! And let me assure you, though he\nstay not for brake and he stop not for stone--yet ere he alights here at\nNetherby Gate--\"\n\"Go on!\" said Christina, \"you know the end of the verse.\" She flung it,\nwith a gallant backward movement of her head, straight in his teeth--\n    \"'For a laggard in love and a dastard in war--'\nOh, listen, listen, listen! Now you know! Now you know whose name I\nwould not speak! Not in this place! Oh, oh!--Will and Nancy; after all,\nthey are only pieces of myself! They are no more to me than--me! But he\nis all I am not and long for! He is life outside myself, to meet mine!\nHe is my light and my air and my hope and my heart's desire! She knew\nit--_she knew it_! She had taken my youth and my faith and my kindness\nwith the world, and killed them, and then she tried to kill him\ntoo!--Love him? O God!\" cried Christina, \"what must he think of me!\" And\nshe began to shake with weeping.\n\"That cub!\" said Ten Euyck. \"You love that cub!\" And he took her in his\narms; and covering her throat and hair with kisses, he held her off\nagain, and tried to see into her face. \"Do you?\" he cried. \"Do you? Do\nyou?\"\n\"Give me a handkerchief!\" Christina snapped.\nHe was surprised into releasing her; and plucking forth her own scrap of\nlace, she wiped her nose with some deliberation. \"I look hideous. I\nshould like those lights out!\"\nHe went about putting out light after light, till she said,\n\"Leave my lamp!\"\nShe was standing beneath it, pensive and grave and now quite pale, with\nher back to the mantelshelf, her soft, fair arms stretched out along its\nlength, and her head hanging. She might have been bound there, beneath\nthe single lamp, like an olden criminal to a seacoast rock before the\nrising tide. The pale light floated over her as Ten Euyck came up and\nseemed to illumine her within a magic circle.\n\"My dear,\" Ten Euyck began, with a kind of solemn fierceness, \"when you\nmade me accomplice in a crime, when you came here to me like this\nto-night, did you really dream that you could change your mind? Did you\nsuppose you could make me ridiculous again? Do you know where you are?\nAnd under what circumstances? There is a slang phrase, Christina--do you\nreally think you can get away with it?\"\n\"No,\" Christina replied. She quietly lifted her head. Her eyes rested\nsoberly on his. \"I am here, with you. I am alone. There is no Rebecca's\nwindow here to dash myself from. You see I have counted up everything.\nAnd this is what I will do. If I cannot die now, I can die to-morrow.\nYou can not watch me forever. And in the hour when you leave me, I shall\nfind a way to die.\"\nHis face grayed as he looked at her.\n\"Do you think I am not acquainted,\" Christina went on, \"with the story\nof Lucretia? I could strike a blow like hers! And oh, believe me, like\nher I should not die in silence!\" She felt him start. \"Do you suppose I\nshould not tell why I came here? Do you by any chance suppose I should\nnot tell what bait I had from the Inspector of Police? Ah, when we have\nsomething to lose, we stumble and make terms. But when we have no longer\nanything, we are the masters of terms.--Is this my last night?\"\nChristina asked.\n\"By God!\" he said, \"you know how to defend yourself!\" And his arms\ndropped at his side.\nHe was a moment silent, his mouth twitching, his eyes drinking her up.\nChristina had, in argument, that better sort of eloquence that calls up\nconvincing pictures. Doubtless, he knew she might denounce his theft of\nthe letter. Doubtless he saw her, then, clay-cold; lost to him,\nutterly. On the other hand, to lose her, now, was a thing outside\nnature and not to be endured. So that suddenly he broke out in a kind of\nhigh, hoarse whisper; \"Christina, there's another way! I never meant to\nmarry--but--Christina, shall it be that?\"\n\"_What!_\" she exclaimed. It was a volcanic outcry, not a question. She\nstretched out her two arms, with the palms of her hands lifted against\nhim, and laughter and amazement seemed to course through her and to wave\nand shine out of her face, like fire in a wind.\n\"Christina,\" he said; \"Christina, I will marry you!--Oh, Christina,\nisn't that the way! There's your ambition! There's your satisfaction!\nThere's the world under your shoe! Christina, will you?\"\n\"Is it possible?\" she said. And again--\"Is it possible! What! Peter\nWinthrop Brewster Cuyler Ten Euyck and the girl in the moving-picture\nshow? 'Mr. Ten Euyck' and the sister of a jail-bird! Eh, me, my poor\nsoul, is it as bad as that?\" Her laughter died and her brows clouded.\n\"It's a far cry, Ten Euyck, since you stole my kiss on the sly! You laid\nthe first bruise on my soul! You put the first slur and sense of shame\ninto the shabby little girl in the stock-company who had no one to\ndefend her but a boy as poor as herself. What did it feel like, dear\nsir, that check? We have come a long way since then, but have you\nforgotten? And does the pure patrician and the representative of high\nlife now lay the cloak of his great name down at my feet? To walk on it,\nyes! But to pick it up? After all, I think it would be stopping! Ah, my\ngood fellow, I don't jump at it!\"\n\"I know you don't! That's why I want you! I've been jumped at all my\nlife!\" Thus Ten Euyck, holding her fast, his face burning darkly under\nher little blows of speech, and his pulse rising with the sense of\nbattle. \"I think I've never known a woman who wouldn't have given her\neyes to marry me! I've never taken a step among them without looking out\nfor traps! Christina, I long to do the trapping and the giving, yes, and\nthe taking, for myself! You don't want me; well, I want you! Yes, for my\nwife! I see it now. You dislike me, you despise me. Well, your dislike\ndoesn't count; believe me, you'd not despise me long! I'd rather see you\nbearing my name--you, with another man for me to wipe out of your heart,\nyou, as cold as ice and as hard as nails to me,--than any of those soft,\nwaiting women! See, we'll play a great trick on the world! We'll be\nmarried to-morrow! We'll sail for Europe. From there we'll send back\nword we've been married all along. People shall think that when you left\nme the other night I followed you; that we fooled them from the\nbeginning, and when next they see you, you shall be on my arm! Come,\nChristina, will not that be a re\u00ebntry? Will not the world be vanquished,\nthen?\"\n\"Hush!\" she said, with lifted finger. \"I thought I heard some one!\" She\nlifted the lamp from the mantelshelf and going to the window held it far\nout into the darkness with an anxious face. \"No!\" she breathed. Ten\nEuyck observed with joy that her manner to him had changed; it had\nbecome that of a fellow-conspirator. Up and down the terrace she sent\nthe light, her apprehensive eyes searching the shadows and the bushes.\n\"No!\" said she again, \"I was wrong.\"\nShe came back to him flushed and eager, and setting the light upon the\ntable, he caught her hands. \"Remember!\" he said, \"otherwise I shall stop\nyour sister. And where will your name be then?\"\nHer nostrils widened, her eyes contracted, doubt succeeded to triumph in\nher face. \"If it were not the truth!\" she said.\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\"If there were no such necessity! If you did not have my name in your\npower at all. If you have no such letter!\"\n\"Christina!\"\n\"It is what I have doubted from the beginning! How do I know you haven't\nlied to me all along? I ask you if you have that letter, and you thump\nyour breast! I ask you to show it to me and you answer, 'To-morrow'!\nTraps--did you say? Did you think I was to be caught in a trap? When you\nwere looking for a poor gull, did you cast eyes on Christina Hope? If\nyou had that proof to show me, you wouldn't hesitate! There is no such\nletter--I can see it in your face!\"\nHe took the letter from his coat and held it up.\n\"Oh, well,\" Christina said, \"I see an envelope. Am I to marry for an\nenvelope?\"\nHe cast the envelope away, folded the letter to a certain page and held\nit for her to read.\nShe read it and a faintness seized her. She stood there, swaying, with\nclosed eyes, and he put an arm about her for support. She leaned upon\nhim, and he put down his mouth to hers. \"Christina, look up!\" he cried.\n\"Don't be afraid! Don't tremble so! My darling, here's your first\nwedding-present!\" And, alarmed by her half-swoon, transported by that\nsurrender in his arms, he held the letter above the lamp and let its\nedge catch fire.\nChristina opened her sick eyes and they dwelt dully on the paper and\nthen with pleasure on the little flame. \"Let me!\" she breathed. \"Yes,\nlet me. It's my right.\"\nHe put the burning paper in her hands, smiling on her with a tender\nplayfulness. \"Take care!\" he said.\n[Illustration: \"You fool!\" she cried. \"You miserable, monstrous fool!\nThank God, I've done with you!\"]\n\"I will take care.\" She held up the paper, intent on the thin edges\ncrisping in the glowing fire, and then, swift as a deer and wild as a\nlion's mate, she sprang away, clapped her hands hard upon the burning\npaper, pressed out the flame upon the bosom of her gown, and thrust the\nletter in her breast. \"You fool!\" she cried. \"You miserable, monstrous\nfool! Thank God, I've done with you!\"\nCHAPTER IV\nTURN, FORTUNE, TURN THY WHEEL--\nTen Euyck's face blazed white with anger. Sick with rage, driven with\nbewilderment and some touch of vague suspicion, all his cold strength\ngathered itself. He was no longer merely a harp for Christina's fingers.\nShe stood at the far end of the room with her back against the wall,\nbarricaded, indeed, by a little gilded table, but not at all alarmed or\neven concerned, and the master of the situation forced himself to say\nquietly, \"I am tired of play, my dear. I shall not run after you. Bring\nthat letter here!\"\nChristina laughed.\n\"You will come to me, quite obediently, and give that letter here to\nme.\"\n\"Oh, I think not!\" Christina said. \"Not to a thief! Not to a\nblackmailer! Nor even to a gentleman who tried, and failed, at\nmurder.--How much did you give the man in the Tombs?\"\nA profound silence fell upon that house. It was as if, in that great\ngolden room, among the mirrored gulfs of shadow, something held its\nbreath. Night seemed to look in at the windows with a startled face.\nThen somewhere, a hawk cried. And still there was no movement in the\nroom. The homely sound of crickets rose from without like the stir of a\nworld immeasurably far away. And Christina, in the changing lusters of\nher gold and silver gown, stood half in shadow; flushed and radiant, a\nlittle shaken with triumph, as a spent runner who has touched his goal,\nand with her hand above the letter on her heaving breast. Ten Euyck did\nnot make one sound. But his face had a paralyzed, chalky stiffness, and\nthe jaw dropped, like the jaw of a corpse.\n\"You fatuous hypocrite!\" cried the girl. \"You pillar of society! And\ncould you ever imagine it was for _you_ I came! For your name, for your\nposition! I thank you, I prefer my own! For your protection? Can you\nprotect yourself? Am I the girl to throw myself away on you for the sake\nof a bad sister, who has treated me with so much hate? It took all your\ngreed, all your vanity, all your stupid, cruel pomp and dullness to be\nfooled like that! Did you ever really think I could stoop to such a\nscene as this to-night for you--or me? Oh, blind, blind, blind! How\ncould you imagine I would leave him in your hands and never make a fight\nfor it? Did you think I didn't remember?--that I couldn't still hear, as\nI heard when I was a frightened girl, the stroke of his hand across your\nface, and that I didn't know you had always had death for him in your\nheart?\"\nShe covered her face with her hands and then she stood up tall again.\n\"My dear Will, my poor boy!--who treated me as if I were his little\nbrother! Oh, the cold night trips on railway trains when I couldn't pay\nfor a sleeper and used to sit wrapped in his coat; the morning races\ndown the track for coffee; the scenes we used to work and work on and\nget so cross we almost struck each other; the time I was discharged and\nhe lent me his few dollars till I should get work again; his first big\nhit and then mine; and then--Nancy, and all the sweetness of a hundred\ntimes with both my dears! Did you think I was going to sit quiet and let\nyou turn your heel on all of that? Allow your conceit and insolence and\nspite to feed on his disgrace and danger! Let _you_ sneer at _him_!\nLeave _him_ to be triumphed over by _you_!--Will Denny by a Ten Euyck!\nAn artist by a bourgeois Inspector of Police! An actor,\" cried\nChristina, beginning to soar, \"and _such_ an actor, by a mere outsider!\nYour side over mine!--Why did you try? Will to be shamed and hidden in\nthe dark! And you to be bowed down to, to swell and strut and smirk and\nlook dull and glossy and respectable, and be brushed by valets, and have\nprize cattle raised for you to eat, and carry gold umbrellas! He to die!\nAnd you to pillow yourself upon a hundred crimes he never dreamed\nof!--Tybalt in triumph and Mercutio slain!--You poor, pretentious,\nsilly, vulnerable soul!--not while he was paying for one moment's\nmadness, and I began to guess and hope and pray that about you there was\nsomething prisons had been gaping for, year after year, if only I could\nfind it out! Did you really think I didn't guess what was in this\nletter? Do you think I didn't know you sent Nicola into that post-office\nto steal it? Why, it was I, with my last strength, who mailed it there.\nHe must have found some trace of me and guessed. Nothing in heaven or\nearth would have brought me here, except to steal it back!\"\n\"How did you--\" he tried to say. But the machinery of his throat was\nstiff and could not work. He swallowed once or twice, and then, dropping\nhis dulled eyes, he got out--\"When--did you--at first--?\"\n\"When you came so grandly to the station, a master of the trap that my\npoor boy was caught in, and said, 'If she would tell the jury what she\ntold him--' Don't you remember that I answered, 'How do you know what\nshe told him?' A strange confidant for Allegra! It wasn't accident,\ncoincidence--for you knew the music that she made for Will's and my\nFrench song! Not five minutes later I learned what Allegra was! A\nqueerer confidant, still, for an Inspector of Police! I said to myself,\n'There is a very black spot frozen inside that block of bilious ice. If\none could know, now, what it was!' Then came your necklace and your\nnote. And I saw you were a violent, greedy creature, after all, who\nwould go a long way to get your will; I saw you could be managed--and\nhow. I remembered Will's saying that people like us had nothing but\nourselves to fight with. Oh, it has been with myself that I have fought!\nI'm sorry, I'm ashamed. But I've won!--What was my second hint? Do you\nremember the torn card of the Italian Bryce Herrick had to kill? How it\nsaid, 1411--nothing more? When I 'phoned you to call for your necklace\nyour number wasn't in the book. The girl, at first, gave me a wrong\ndirection. Then she remembered that was your old number which you had\njust had changed. The district was the same, of course. But the old\nnumber ran, 1--4--1--1.--Ah, wait for my third--the best of all! My good\nTen Euyck, you never made quite such a mistake as when you lost one\nsymbol of respectability--as when you forgot your umbrella!\"\nThis time he looked up with a stare.\n\"You left it at Allegra's, and, like all excellent housekeepers, Mrs.\nPascoe put it in the closet under the stairs. I found it there. I was\nlooking for something to break the window with. A little light came in\nthen, and I saw the gold handle, like a staff of office, with your name.\nI broke the rod and have the handle still.\" Christina paused and smiled\nat him. \"My sister's partner in the business of blackmail; you, whose\nmoney robbed and burned a post-office of the United States; you, whose\ninfluence attempted murder in jail, on the highroads, in the Park,\nrather than be found out, I make you my bow! If I cannot save Will with\nyou, if I cannot trade you for him with the law--and oh, I think I\ncan!--at least our side shan't fall alone! If he is to be punished, at\nleast he will never be punished by you! But you, Mr. Ten Euyck, who\nexulted in his trouble, who are afraid, as he is not, who will perish at\nthe scorn of every fool, as he has not, you, who of shame are about to\ndie, I salute you! Your career as a criminal, your career as a shining\nlight, they are both at an end!--And why? Because you declared war\nagainst people without money, without position, without influence, whom\nyou despised! Because you weren't strong enough to fight Christina Hope!\nRemember that!\"\nThe heart knoweth its own bitterness. For one little moment Ten Euyck\nstood with his eyes upon the reckless girl who was driving him to the\nlast terrible extreme of self-defense. He had come there a happy and\nindulgent conqueror, and even the sweetness of a necessary revenge was\nblack and poisoned in him. Then, in that moment, he heard what\nChristina, flushed with victory, did not hear at all--a little sound\nbehind him and above his head.\nHis driving-coat still lay across a chair and he went slowly to it and\ndrew the case of his revolver from its pocket; the revolver was fully\nloaded; he looked at the barrel a long time, as if he were thinking\nsomething out, and then he heard Christina laugh. \"Take care!\" she said.\n\"I did not come without a guard.\"\nHe did not turn upon her. He still stood with his back to her, and, from\nunder his bent brows, his glance shot up and found the parting of the\nvalance. Now, since the lessening of the lights, Herrick, half-mad and\ngoaded by the continual slight weakening of the cords, had grown\ncareless of concealment. There, in the opening, his face showed. Not\nmuch, indeed; not enough to be easily recognized; all masked, too, with\nblood and sweat and with the gag across the mouth. But still whiter than\nthe Italian face Ten Euyck had most expected. Then he caught a glimpse\nof the brown, ruddy hair, and knew. This was Nicola's and Allegra's idea\nof a jest.\n\"A guard?\" he said. And he turned then upon Christina.\n\"Don't come near me!\" the girl cried. \"And if you want to live, don't\nshoot! My friends are all about this house! They are in waiting down the\nroad! They have waited the whole evening long, watching for my signal.\nThey started to close in on us when I waved my lamp. Let me cry out my\nname and you will hear, in answer, the horn of an automobile. It will\nblow three times--two short notes and one long. That means--Stand out of\nthe way, Christina Hope; the men are ready!--Don't come near me!\"\n\"Cry out your name!\" Ten Euyck replied.\nThe girl lifted up her voice, and gave forth the words \"Christina Hope\"\nso that they leaped out in the still darkness and went shrilling and\nsearching through the night, the vibrations dying in the distance, and\nthe air giving back an echo of their call. Till, after an age-long\nmoment, their last note died away. And nothing happened. No note from\nthe horn of an automobile broke forth in answer; there was only a\nprofounder stillness. Christina was left face to face with nothingness\nand Cuyler Ten Euyck.\n\"You spoke too soon!\" he said. \"You were always foolhardy. This time you\nhave outdone yourself. The clever Christina was not the only person, on\ncoming here, to take precautions. If I gave so much to the guard in the\nTombs, what did I give to buy off these friends of yours? The agreeable\ngang your sister commands--did you think it was in your pay for\nto-night? It is in mine! I suspected nothing, but I took no chances. I\nprepared for accident. No automobile can pass that lodge. No spy can\ncreep about these grounds. One tried, my dear. They caught him. He is\nlying in that little gallery gagged and bound. When his body is\ndiscovered, he will have been shot by blackmailers, whom Cuyler Ten\nEuyck never so much as saw. I thought you wouldn't leave me!\"\nChristina had gathered up her train for flight and had been\nmanoeuvering nearer and nearer to the window that gave deepest into\nthe shelter of the dark. Only at the first word of a spy she had stood\nstill.\n\"Yes,\" Ten Euyck went on, \"I see that you guess his name. I am not a bad\nshot, and he can't move, poor fellow. Give me that letter!\"\nChristina looked along his arm, along the lifted revolver, to what was\nnow only a dark opening in the valance. Her mouth opened, but no sound\ncame. The life went out of her like the flame from a dying candle, and\nshe seemed to shrink and crumple and to sway upon her feet. There was a\nlong stillness.\n\"That letter, if you please!\" Ten Euyck said.\n\"Bryce!\" Christina called, quite low. \"Bryce, are you there! Let me\nsee!\" she screamed out, and ran forward.\nTen Euyck held up a finger, and she stopped dead. \"Do you understand\nthat I, too, have a signal and these fellows will come at it? Do you\nunderstand what cause they have to love Herrick?--Fetch that chair!\"\nShe brought it forward.\n\"No, under the balcony. Pardon my not helping you. I dare not lower my\nhand. Stand on the chair! Can you reach those little curtains? No? Take\nthis candlestick--push them back! What do you see?\"\nChristina shuddered like a stricken birch, and gave forth a lamentable\ncry. The candlestick fell to the ground. She had met Herrick's eyes.\n\"Have I won?\" said Ten Euyck.\n\"You are a brave girl, but you lack discretion.--Get down! Take that\nletter from your breast. That's right. What a pretty change in manners,\nmy dear! Come here! Come!\"\nHer face looked thin and her eyes were set with fear. She came slowly\non, like a person in a trance, half hanging back, half drawn with\nropes. She stopped at one end of the little table, a few feet from him.\n\"Put out your hand and offer me that letter.\"\nShe put it out and he seized the letter and the hand in his.\n\"And now, my dear, understand me. In my connection with the Arm of\nJustice, I hold myself neither stained nor shamed. It has been an arm of\n_justice_; when I have struck it was--as poor Kane will tell\nyou!--always at those who had sinned against the law, though I could not\nthen reach them through the law. In that punishment I used an imperfect\ninstrument, as a man who stands for decency must do, in an imperfect\nworld. When I recognized your sister as our mysterious shadow I forced\nher to write this account of her disgraceful life not, as she supposed,\nfor fear she might some day blackmail me--for there was nothing in my\nlife to be used for blackmail--but for a net to snare you with! In that\nnet you are caught. Never till its loss determined me to have it back at\nany cost did I really sin. And never legally! For when I give money to a\nneedy woman I do not question what she does with it. If there is\nviolence--why not? In self-defense! But if I sinned, at least I have\nsucceeded in my sin. For here you are! While you--you have forfeited\neven your price. But when Denny is dead, talk over with Allegra, in her\nprison, the story of his death--it may divert you both! For now she,\ntoo, is lost, as well as he. And through your fault as Herrick is!\"\nShe lifted her white face and questioned him, with the darkness of her\neyes.\n\"Let him go! After all that he has heard? How could I? You gave your\nsignal and now I must give mine!--It's been a hard fight, Christina! And\nto the victor belong the spoils!\"\nHe dragged her slowly toward him by the clenched hand he held, his\nhungry smile flushed and yet cold with hate, feeding on her desperate\ncompliance. And as he drew her past the table, Christina caught up the\nlamp and struck it with her whole force into his face.\nThere was a tremendous noise of crashing glass, and then darkness,\nfilled with the smell of oil. Christina's slender strength had found\nforce for such a blow that the lamp had been put out before it could\nexplode,--and what it had been put out upon was Ten Euyck's head. He\nfloundered back; dazed, cut, with the sense battered out of him. And at\nthe same moment the last knot yielded to stiff fingers and Herrick\nstaggered to his feet. He dropped over the balcony to the ground, and\nChristina ran toward the sound of him, in the darkness. \"Oh! Oh!\" she\nsaid, and clung like a child upon his breast.\nBut for a little crack under the door into the hall, the blackness had\nswallowed every shape. This was all in their favor. They stood\nlistening, holding their breath, knowing that Ten Euyck was there before\nthem but not able to see where; and then he fired. Herrick followed the\nlead of the flash and leaped upon him. Ten Euyck sank to one knee, but\nhe had gripped Herrick as he fell; the two men struggled to their feet,\nand across the room and up and down they fought and clung and swayed and\ntrampled, upsetting chairs, their feet slipping and grinding on the\nsmooth floor; and though the shots continued to sound, they were fired\ndownward and Christina guessed that Herrick forced Ten Euyck's hand\ntoward the ground and was struggling for possession of the pistol. She\ncould hear their breath pulsing and sobbing in the darkness. Suddenly\ntheir black, struggling bulk crashed down on the piano and the shots\nceased. The pistol fell to the ground. Ten Euyck's voice gasped out,\nlike rending cloth: \"All six are fired! That's my signal!\" Then there\nwas an oath, a lurch, a sound of blows, the table tipped over with a\nsmash, followed by the thud of both men falling to the floor; there was\na groan, a pause, a last decisive blow, and then some one rose and came\nslowly toward Christina through the dark room.\nIn a childish terror of broken nerves, \"Bryce!\" Christina shrieked. Then\nher shrieking, outstretched fingers touched a rough, damp sleeve, and\n\"Bryce!\" she sobbed contentedly. They met with a bump, and clutched each\nother, laughing with joy, in this little moment before the last. Already\nthey could hear the hurrying men; dark figures blackened on the\ndarkness, the terraces came alive with sound, lights showed and were\ngone; and Herrick, holding the empty gun, sought vainly to put Christina\nback from him. She held to him, leaning on him, hardly breathing. \"It's\ndeath, dear!\" she said. \"Forgive me!\"\n\"Oh!\"\nShe felt him bend his head, and lifting up her face, she set her mouth\nto his.\nFrom the carriage sweep without there came--two short and one\nlong--three notes from the horn of an automobile.\nCHAPTER V\nCARNAGE: A COMIC OPERA CLIMAX\nThe door from the hall opened, letting in a flood of light. At the same\ntime a man stepped through one of the windows. He was the first of a\nnumber whom the halls and staircases instantly absorbed. Out of\nHerrick's very hold Christina slipped and caught this man by the arm and\nhung away from him as she was wont to hang upon the arm of Hermann\nDeutch. \"Oh, heaven and our fathers!\" cried she in a faint wail. \"But\nyou were a little late!\"\nThe man, standing tense in the shadow, was examining the room with\nappraising eyes. Christina, blind to something rigid in him, hurried on.\n\"And I did so depend on a quick curtain! But all's well that ends\nwell--I've got it! Mr. District-Attorney, your mail!\"\n\"Who's that with you?\" said the voice of Henry Kane.\nAs he took, from the hand that had never once resigned them, the\nscorched and torn sheets and buttoned them beneath his coat he glanced\nover his shoulder, expectantly.\n\"You'll go to the Governor, yourself, to-morrow? To-morrow!\"\n\"Please God! Ah, Herrick, you make one more! Hear anything, Sheriff?\" he\ncalled into the hall.\nKane had turned to close the shutters at his back but Christina, blind\nwith triumph, continued to Herrick: \"He saw my shadow at Riley's. I told\nhim all that I suspected and he believed me. He spoke to the Governor.\nThey promised me if I could give Mr. Kane that man and the headquarters\nof the others I should have Will's life in exchange. I knew from Nancy's\nholding that letter and it's being addressed in Allegra's hand that it\nmust be the story which caused his feeling against Ingham--that Nancy,\nas well as I, must have hoped it might even set him free. Mr. Kane got\nme a doctor and as soon as I had my voice he sent me to a little hotel\nup the river here, kept by Ten Euyck's old servants whom he would know\nmust recognize him, and there I sent for him. He was afraid to come\nthere, of course, into my disreputable company. But he was fine and\neager to meet me somewhere. We hoped he would name that stronghold of\nAllegra's where he would feel safe and when he named this house our\nhopes leaped.--Oh, I'm so tired!\" cried Christina, sitting down on the\nfloor like a worn-out child and snuggling her head forward in her lap.\n\"Are those doors fast?\" called Kane from his second window. \"That\nshutter's loose! What's that balcony? This room won't stand a siege!\nYou, Herrick, the sheriff and I and five men--can we hold this house?\"\nSheriff Buckley had just limped in with his bruised, cut face further\ndiscolored by the blood from a scalp-wound which he was binding with a\nhandkerchief. Herrick had already noticed that Kane's arm was tied\ntight, just above the elbow, with a gaily flaunting necktie and around\nthis necktie the torn sleeve was soaked and stained.--\"Against how\nmany?\" he replied.\nIt was not till then that, lifting a face of weary dismay, \"Are we still\nfighting?\" Christina almost sobbingly demanded.\n\"Now, don't frighten the lady!\" The sheriff turned to Kane. \"We just got\ninto a mix-up at the gate with the whole Dago gang. They'll never come\nup here after us.\"\nAll three men, none the less, were busy latching shutters, locking,\nbarricading. They were not interrupted and no alarm but their own\nseemed in the air. As they worked Kane said, \"There's something up we\ndon't understand. This is something more than any bunch of Pascoes. We\nexpected a fight. We had over a dozen men. We were attacked by a\nhundred. They had made an obstacle race for the motors. One they put out\nfor good. But the sheriff got this one through.\"\n\"We've left 'em a mile behind!\" said the sheriff. \"Before they can get\nhere the river police'll have taken the yacht. They'll be up here before\nlong. We're safe here awhile, all to ourselves, and they can't get\nwithin a hundred feet of the house without being picked off by our boys\nupstairs!\"\nAs he spoke the pane above Herrick's head, where he struggled with the\nloose shutter, cracked into flying splinters. A small hard object had\nhurtled into the room and thumped at Kane's feet. A bewilderment\nludicrous as hysteria came over Herrick. For the object that carried a\nbit of paper rolled in its mouth was a little golden pistol--which\nthough sufficiently valued to carry on its handle a monogram of three\ncapital A's, picked out in jewels, was yet no pistol at all. It was a\ndummy made all in one piece!\n\"So!\" said the District-Attorney. \"Now we know!\"\n\"What?\"\n\"I asked you, Herrick, if we could hold this house. And you asked me\nagainst how many. I can't tell you against how many but I can now tell\nyou against what. Against an army of which you have read, not so long\nsince, a considerable deal in the papers. Against the Camorra.\"\n\"Here!\"\n\"After us?\"\n\"The Italian Camorra!\"\n\"In America!\"\n\"Yes,\" Kane insisted, \"and under those trees.\"\n\"In costume!\" cried Christina, with rising spirits and flitting to the\nwindow.\n\"A skeleton pistol is its badge. The owner of this trinket is a member.\nPlease, Miss Hope, translate us this paper.\"\nShe read aloud, \"Alieni the infamous and all his house die here to-night\nthe death of traitors.\"\n\"Well, the information's dear, but we're getting plenty of it! There's\nan advance guard, evidently, set hereabouts!--Alieni! And capital A's!\nIt's their traitor's badge they've stolen to threaten him. If we only\nknew who Alieni is? And where he is! And what they think he has to do\nwith us!\"\nHerrick told them where he had seen the pistol before. To no one did\nthis, at that time, bring any light. Kane's mind was busy with the\nfortunes of the police-boat. \"The Camorra easily swarms thick enough to\noverpower that!\" He paused, surveying their fortress. If they had needed\nanything to tell them they were doomed they might have found it in the\ncolloquial, dry calm of Kane's voice as he said, \"We should, perhaps,\nhave sent Miss Hope upstairs.\"\n\"Oh, I beseech you--anything but a trap. Let me stay where I can run!\"\n\"The more as they may try to smoke us out!\"\nSilence grew up in their midst.\nThe great front doors were barred and chained; through the house five\nmen were on watch; the door into the hall was barricaded with the gilt\npiano, whence still the Cupids smiled, stacked above and below with the\nlittle table and the chairs; down the room's long front the five great\nwindows, three more crossing at the farther end, were dark with the\nlatched shutters of which the second on the front was the suspected. So\nfrail were the defenses! So short a time from the first blow must the\nslats give and the glass crash in!\n\"I think you'd best take the end, Mr. Kane; me and Mr. Herrick the front\nwindows--Lord, who's this?\"\nThe black figure with gleaming shirt-front was seated in a little gilt\nchair in the wall's darkest angle; with outstretched legs and tilted\nhead it confronted them from very glassy eyes. But it was only the dead\nbody of Ten Euyck, who must have reared up thus with his last breath and\njoined their council.\n\"Well,\" cried the sheriff, gaily, \"you make another--if they think so!\"\nSeizing the chair he trundled it across the room; on the floor he found\nTen Euyck's gun and propped it into the passive fingers. \"There! If this\nblind falls down, you'll be better 'n the piano--they'll waste a lot of\nattention on you! Now, if they only make noise enough, down by the\nriver--Oh, you mustn't let him make you whimper, miss!\"\nHerrick was mainly aware of a terrible impatience. The surprise and\nconfusion of their peril made its expectation a raging fever, as if only\na horrible scarecrow in a mirror waited to be smashed. Despite the whole\nweek's frenzied pulse, despite the happenings of the last four hours,\nHerrick could not believe in what lay before and all about them. These\nwere men he knew, with whom he had put through other adventures; the\ngirl beside him had never seemed so much a girl as in this failure of\nher hardihood--he saw her for the first time with loosened hair that\ntouched her face with a childish softness, made for cherishing--it\ntightened something in his heart as though to crack it, but it was\nabsurd to suppose that in half an hour, in ten or twenty minutes, they\nwould be there on the floor, unconscious of each other, ended, wiped\nout! Christina lifted her arms in a gesture instinctive with all\nwomankind and gathering up this tumble of hair her dear, quick fingers\ntwined and thrust till it was heaped into its place--why, of course not!\nThis strange night camp amid broken furniture, the spreading pool of\noil, the jewels lying mixed with the supper's wreckage, Christina silent\nagain and holding his hand tight, the two wounded, haggard men, all\nthese his mind admitted, all these were conceivable. But what was soon\nto come was not conceivable! Yet--hark! Was that--No, only some creak of\nthe old house! What sound would be the last before the deluge? How long\nmust they wait? Already the air seemed thick and hard to breathe, the\ntwilight of the room hung on them like a solid weight and the one candle\nChristina had lighted made scarce a twinkle of sane, human comfort in\nthe vast yellowish gloom.--\n\"If you please, miss, put out that light!\"\n\"Oh!\"\n\"We can't afford to advertise!\"\nThe light was gone.\nIn the pitch-black airlessness Herrick could feel Christina kneeling\nagainst him, quiet but for the broken breathing that told him she was\nstill afraid of the dark. As he put his left arm round her shoulders she\npressed her cold cheek to his hand.\n\"It's funny, isn't it? We never even had time to get an\nengagement-ring!--Here they come!\"\nA sound as of excited animals plunged through the groves about the\nhouse; with tramplings and scufflings a great herd seemed to surge out\nupon the vacant drive. As it confronted the empty automobile, the\ntranquil terraces and the blank front of the locked house it paused,\nuncertainly; then a high, prolonged whistle sounded, shorter whistles\nresponded from every stretch and nook of woodland and there fell again,\nto the stupefaction of those within, a perfect silence.\nThis continued unbroken, baffling, interminable, inscrutable, and solid\nas the walls of a cell. Christina in her endeavor for control gave a\nslight, nervous cough, no more than a rough catch of the breath, such\nas Herrick had heard her give many a time when their taxi skimmed too\nclose to a trolley in the safe, crowded, far-off streets. And with this\nfamiliar little sound apprehension awoke in him, full-armed. The\nmerciful veil was torn from his imagination, his soul gaped to the\nknowledge of death and of direr things that precede death. On the\ninstant all he had ever known of struggle changed; chivalry,\ncivilization, restraint, vanished like things that never were; if, at\nthat moment, the bodies of a hundred other women as sweet, as\ndefenseless, as tender as his love's had stood in her way he could have\nset his heel upon them all to save her. Then, close at hand, as if from\nsomewhere within the wall, came the imperative, prolonged tingle of a\ntelephone!\nThey turned, dumbfounded, shaken with incredulous, mad hope. But whence\ncame it? Where was it? Christina stirred and slid to her feet; her dress\nwent whispering across the room; the men, not daring to leave their\nposts, knew she must be feeling along the rear wall and still through\nthe darkness the telephone rang. Then she gave a low cry--a narrow door\nin the glass paneling had slipped sideways so that she stretched her\nhands into a kind of pantry; the instrument's shrill call was now\ndirectly in her ears--\"It's Nicola!\"\nThe three questioning whispers sprang at her at once.\n\"He wants to speak to Mr. Ten Euyck.\"\nBlankness answered. The ringing became more impatient.\n\"Take the message.\"\nBut no message was to be had. Nicola's party was at the boathouse, in\ngreat trouble, in danger--never mind what! He wanted to speak to Mr. Ten\nEuyck. \"He says, 'Get him to pass me his word to shelter us or what will\nyou give--what will you give for news of Nancy Cornish?'\"\n\"Tell him I, Kane, 'll buy his news.\"\nChristina dropped back against the wall. \"When he has spoken to Mr. Ten\nEuyck.\"\nPerhaps, in the helpless pause, the glassy face taking aim behind the\nshutter smiled to itself in the dark. Before they had time to try if the\nwire connected only with the boathouse, a single shot sprang from across\nthe drive.\nThere was a sharp crack and splintering, a hot puff on Christina's\ncheek, and the shattered telephone hung crazily on the wall. The\nbesieging force had misinterpreted what seemed the reinforcement of the\nworld and used its best marksman. Having done so it was content and\nreassumed its patient crouching. \"Rifles!\" cried the sheriff. \"And yet\nthey don't attack!\"\nKane peered through the broken slat and with a very grim expression drew\nback for the others. \"Look under the trees, there. Is it just dark? Or\nis it dark with men?\"\n\"Looks like Birnam Wood!\" said Herrick.\nIt was that blackest hour before the morning when darkness takes on\nweight and bulk so that the eye must carve a way through. But the\nblazing dazzle of the entrance porch broke and distorted the besieging\ndark, exaggerating, multiplying the forces that it held. Beyond the\nbrightness of the steps the stone and then the grassy terraces fell\nindistinct and shallow to the lawns, beyond which, perhaps a hundred\nfeet away, the drive was rather known than discerned; twenty feet or so\nfarther still the wood lay shapeless and invisible but filled by the\nmonstrous darkness as close as with a great tide. There the most\nstraining eye could see nothing whatever; now and again the night came\nalive with snapping twigs, every grove would wake and rustle; then not a\nleaf would stir. But through all the intermediate borderland shadows\nseemed to loom, to creep, dissolve and disappear; then to their more\naccustomed eyes these shadows began to take on form--they were the\nshadows of softly moving men, individuals and small groups, unknown\npersons on unknown errands which carried them here and there but closer\nand closer about the house. \"Queer the boys upstairs don't spot them!\"\nOne group passed so close to the end windows that Kane fired at it and\nproduced a commotion which he followed by another shot. There was no\nresponse, but from all directions the fringe of figures drew nearer, a\ncrouching, irregular line behind its faggot-like shields of broken\nboughs. The defenders spent their shots recklessly, now, for the same\nthought was in all their minds; it seemed to take form from its own\napprehension when, as the invaders drew back their wounded, those within\nbecame aware of something across the tree-tops, down toward the river; a\nruddier dusk, a glow that was not morning, far against the sky.\nClose at their backs Christina's voice murmured with an icy softness,\n\"The boathouse! It's afire!\" Her tone told Herrick that the telephone\nhad stolen all her weakness, she was strung like a bow; side by side\nwith his her glance strained out and forward as the knots of men\ncontinued to advance with velvet stealth. The fire of the defenders\nceased. Automatically, for they had nothing left to fire with. \"What's\nbecome of my fellows?\" Sheriff Buckley wondered. The first foam of the\ntide began to lap the terraces. Christina looked beyond it toward the\nflames that flared on the horizon. And from that way Herrick, too, heard\na new sound, the thudding of a horse galloping clumsily on soft turf.\nThe shadows blotted themselves to the ground. The hoofbeats began to run\namuck as though the horse had lost its rider. Hither and yon round the\ncorners of the house shapeless movements hurried, there came the step of\na heavy runner and the cursing of a deep voice in some Italian patois.\nThe long, single whistle darted out again and once more there fell that\nmotionless waiting of the profoundly brooding night. It was Christina\nwho first said, \"Some one else is in this room!\"\nAs they listened they, too, could hear the sound of crawling. Something\nwas creeping into the room. It was coming through the pantry door which\nChristina had left open and it advanced with a dragging sound as a\nwounded beast drags on its stomach. Kane, dropping on it, found his\nhands in a man's hair. The man sank under him with a deathly groan and\nnow it was Kane who called for a candle. \"Nicola!\" Christina breathed.\nHe was making horrible motions with his mouth; Christina found some\nunspilled wine and thrust the edge of the glass between his lips. \"Tell\nme! Nancy--?\"\nKane held up his hand. Beyond, in the pantry, a step sounded--backing\nfrom Nicola's trail. Herrick and the sheriff dragged in between them a\ntall Sicilian whose triangular knife was still wet. The embroidered\ntable-cloth with which they bound him to the piano strained under his\nrenewed efforts to attack the dying man whom Christina still entreated,\n\"Is she with my sister? Is she?\"\nA hoarse sob raged through Nicola and gasped past his last grin of pride\nand hate. \"You fool of hers! Fool of us all! _Your_ sister? _My_ sister,\nmine! You think _you_ ever have a sister like that?\"\nThe girl stood above him, tranced and wide-eyed, with distended\nnostrils; as she turned to Herrick a face which release and knowledge\nwere even then palely lighting the figure of a man darted into the\ngallery where Herrick had lain; a slim, soft man whose pretty little\nface was all flecked and sweated with the insane hate and courage which\ncome of insane fear. The Sicilian greeted what he took for reinforcement\nwith a cry of triumph and encouragement; but it was not Nicola, it was\nHerrick at whom this tremulous assassin, yelling \"Spy! Spy! Will you\nshow me again to the Camorra?\" extended his revolver. At the same\nmoment, Nicola, turning on his side and aiming upward, shot him dead.\nThe slim, soft figure doubled over the rail and the refined, pretty,\nconvulsed face swung there with open mouth. At this Nicola spat the wine\nwhich he had sucked as he lay: \"Thus my sister salutes thee!\" Then his\nhead knocked back upon the floor and he lay still.\nThe tall Sicilian, who had watched the action without fully\nunderstanding the quick English words, now strained forward, peering\nwith a kind of gratified thirst into Christina's face. He said to her in\nItalian that was almost a whisper, \"You are very fair!\"\n\"Do you think that is news to me?\" asked the girl, with a kind of fury.\n\"But my fairness has done all it can! What's to do, now?\"\n\"You are fair. But you are the devil. You brought police to the river,\nwho will return with more. You have plunged this night in the blood of\nyour brothers. There was one who was like a little sister. Where is\nshe?\"\nChristina started; half in appeal, half in defense against the omen of\nhis tones, she stretched out her hands. The Sicilian lowered his mouth\nto the bosom of his shirt and brought forth in his teeth a little hoop\nof silver which he shook before Christina's eyes. \"Where is she now? Of\nher tokens _she has lost the third_!\" It was Nancy's bracelet that he\ndropped at Christina's feet.\n\"Devil of fine fairness,\" he said, \"I shall pick it up again, when you\nare lying low! When not one shot is left for our hurt we there, without,\nwill come quietly in! Then shall I bear this to my chief. I took it from\nthe hand of Beppo, who lay bleeding in the grass. Were Chigi and Pepe\ncaught in the fire? They reached her late, for they had rowed their boat\nback, to escape those policemen on the river. Only when Alieni jumped\nand swam they must follow him and tramp to the house for boats along the\nshore. But they reached her! I was against it always--she was not of our\nnation. Ah, she was pretty! Had you not let her know too much she need\nnot have been put to sleep!\"\nChristina made no outcry. If his attack on herself bewildered her, her\nimagination caught the significance of the Camorrist phrase. \"Where,\"\nasked she slowly, \"does she sleep?\"\n\"In the dead ashes of the house of boats.\" His malignant sneer took in\nthe stricken, threatened group, as well as his own bondage. And turning\nonce more to Christina he smilingly informed her, \"I seek in the house\nfor boats Nicola Pascoe. I hear him talking as at a telephone. They have\nbrought a lamp and in the window I see a pretty girl, young and not so\ntall, with a face very sweet but sick and the hair falls curling and\nred. She has in her hands a tiny bottle filled with a dark liquid. She\nthrows it from the window where it fills the air with laudanum smell.\nAnd at that up runs to her Nicola--and she, away! They must have knocked\nover the lamp, for next the house for boats is blazing high. And, as the\nsmoke comes in the window, there she runs again--just as I see the\nwoman's figure and in the fiery smoke one light of her red hair at that\nout from the bushes a bullet springs. She clasps her hands over her\nbreast with a small cry and down she sinks. And Alieni flies out of the\nbushes with Beppo and Chigi and Pepe at his back and he races into the\nflaming house. It is after that down plunges Nicola, down and past us,\nrunning here to this place, and I follow him, sure that past him I shall\ncome, too, upon his sister. Before we reach here, through the dark,\ncomes a horse with two men on its back--one is yelling 'I have killed\nher! I have killed her!' and he passes. The other falls off. It is\nBeppo, who dies at my feet, giving me the bracelet. He had it from\nPepe, the Parmesan, whom he saw meet with Alieni in the doorway of the\nhouse for boats. By this time all, everywhere, is fighting and the house\nfor boats blows up in a puff and falls in upon itself in crumbling\nfire.\"\nChristina had never taken her eyes from his face and in those eyes alone\nthere now seemed any life to hold her body upright. \"It's not true!\"\nsaid she, gently and at length. \"Life's not so silly!\" But she stretched\nout a blind hand to Herrick and leaned on him a little.\n\"Ah!\" mocked the Sicilian, \"it made a beautiful grave! You will not have\nso fine! But yours gapes for you now as well as for your lover, and for\nyour husband, who caused all the death! Do not pity the girl who died.\nExult not over Giuseppe Gumama. Read, instead, the writing in your\ngolden pistol--of Alieni--and the Signora Alieni--\" He stopped with a\ngratified gasp. The handle of the door into the hall had been softly\nturned from the outside.\nNo one moved. In a strange voice the sheriff called to know if this were\none of his men. There was no answer. \"Where are they? Why don't they--\"\nGumama the Sicilian laughed aloud. \"The long cellar-way, where by night\nwe carried out to the river our broken press--It has let us in--so\nquietly--Many went upstairs--\"\nHerrick translated. With one impulse the three men turned toward the\nslide in the paneling. It was closed. But their intent listening made\nsure of more than one soft touch, straying in search of the mechanism.\nOf crowding whispers they could not be so sure. Herrick reached for\nNicola's gun. But it had only one charge and then, indeed, though\nwithout turning her head, Christina closed her hand on his and took it\nfrom him. \"That's mine, you know!\" No man gainsaid her and she put it in\nher breast. Undisguised, unhurried footsteps sounded overhead. An alien\npresence pervaded all that house. Caged in their shelter, they drew\ntogether, close under the balcony. Christina suffered herself to be\ndrawn with them, but she was considering aloud the Sicilian's words.\n\"My golden pistol!\" Christina looked from the little femininely jeweled\ndummy to the script, \"'Filippi Alieni and all his house'--And all his\nhouse! 'The death of traitors'--My husband, you say? The Signora\nAlieni--A. A. A. Alieni, of course! But--Allegra?--Allegra?--Alieni?\"\n\"Signora Alieni!\" Gumama smilingly repeated.\nThe girl gave him one glance, sprang past him and flung herself against\nthe shuttered windows. \"Whom do you mean by traitors?\" she called. \"For\nwhom do you take us? Answer! Answer!\"\nAt the sound of her voice a deep-bayed, many-throated yell roared out\nderision and victory. As the men dragged Christina back a coarse laugh\nmocked loudly from across the road. \"Signora Alieni, we rejoice at the\nlast to salute you!\" And the whole woodland took up his phrase in\nchorus, \"Buona sera, Signora Alieni!\"\nThen, uncontrollably, at length the darkness volleyed, the earth was\nrived with sound and fire, the flashes of it scorching their skin while\nglass, plaster, woodwork, split and spattered round them as through the\nwindows the hail beat.\nCHAPTER VI\nTHE DARKEST HOUR: \"OF WOUNDS AND SORE DEFEAT I MADE MY BATTLE STAY!\"\nChristina's stream of Italian left Herrick so far behind that he could\nonly watch the incredulity of Gumama's face turn to doubt and then to\nreflection. The word \"American\" was often repeated, and then came\nGumama's slower answer, puzzling out the question--But was not the\nSignora Alieni herself much American? Did not she to-night meet here in\nthis house her brother Nicola? And was she not to run away at sunrise\nwith--and he pointed to Herrick--an American? And how well was it not\nknown that the Signora Alieni was bella, bella donna?--\"Bella--bella!\"\nwith mounting fervor he violently repeated.\n\"But you, yourself? You never saw her?\"\n\"The Signora Alieni goes always veiled.\"\n\"Are there none--out there--who know her?\"\n\"Old friends ten years ago in Naples. And the laborers of Nicola.\"\n\"When they come, they will know at once she is not here,\" said\nChristina, with an odd, proud calm. \"Ah, please, let me see what they\nare about!\" And she persistently advanced to a window and peered between\nthe slats of a blind.\nBlackness was lifting from the earth. That clear gray light, clearer and\ngrimmer than ever they had seen it, of the slowly rising dawn had begun\nto fill the open spaces. Under the trees it was still a dusk of living\nshadows, and, from within the house, the half-muffled, surrounding\npressure strained closer still against the walls. Christina faced\nround, uttered a piercing shriek and pointed toward the panel. To this,\nthe men who watched her turned. And on the instant, the shutters\nclicking as she flung them open, the girl flashed through and ran\nstraight into the dawn on the white terrace. \"You who know Allegra\nAlieni, am I she? Am I she?\"\nA wail of amazement and denial greeted her. The men within, the men\nwithout, came to a standstill.--\"If you ever loved me,\" said Christina\nto Herrick, \"keep back from me, now!\" He replied only by swinging\nforward Gumama, who thereupon stood in the sight of his friends with the\nmute argument of a revolver at his head. Not a voice replied. But not a\nshot was fired.\nIn the pause produced by the concerned and puzzled hesitation of the\nbesiegers, Christina gathered up her voice. She was used to send it far,\nto hush and rouse with it, to pierce and move at will, and neither\nmisery nor fatigue seemed now to have weakened its flexible and winning\nmelody. \"Sirs,\" cried the girl, \"I ask you the one thing. Are you not\nhere as the executioners of the great Camorra? Do you, then, wish to\ndisobey?\"\nShe had centered upon herself a bewildered stare.\n\"And do you not disobey if you blunder? Do you wish to bring all the new\nworld about your ears for the wrong thing? Believe me, we four, we are\nstrong persons in that world--we do not fall unavenged! If we are to die\nhere, now, and the great society of the Camorra is to wreck itself upon\nour death, let it not be in a mistake!--Ah, you see! Believe me! We are\nnot false brethren of yours, we are Americans, every one! But in a way\nyou and I are brethren, for I, like you, have seen my heart's good faith\nbetrayed--and by the same hand!\"\nA startled murmur rose.\n\"I, too, was brought to come here by the ruin of my life through\nAllegra Alieni! Of her husband I never knew. Only hold back the force\nthat masses at our door and here is a plan. We are here four--three men\nand a woman. Send us four men--mask them, if you will--and let them look\nat us close and well; they will see that we cannot be those whom you\nseek. But we have with us the body of Nicola whom this one here, calling\nhimself Giuseppe Gumama, slew, and who was brother to the Alienis. Let\nyour men take this Nicola from our house, for we, no more than you, have\nany use for traitors!\"\nThese words produced an extraordinary effect. A murmur of admiration, of\nfellowship, exclamations, argument, a sort of congratulation traversed\nthe green spaces through the still strengthening dawn. Christina, as\nalways, had found her audience.\n\"Oh, sirs,\" cried the girl, in a softer cadence, advancing to the very\nedge of the terrace, and still eagerly baring her face to the pale\nlight, \"you seek our lives and I am so weary I am almost glad to die.\nBut die or live, oh, now, for the dear love of God, let me go down to\nthe river! Let me see who is still alive there! Send whom you will with\nme, but let me go!\" And Christina stretched out her arms to the men of\nthe Camorra as to the brothers of her soul and for the moment they were\nall more than her brothers in their inflammable hearts.\nBut even a little noise could still distract them. And this time it was\nthe noise of the unhinged shutter as it slid, bumping, for a second and\nthen fell with a crash upon the terrace. In the half-light Ten Euyck's\nhand, holding a pistol, was visible at the window and above it the white\nleer of his face. Voices cried, \"A fourth man! A man of whom she did not\ntell!\"\nA prisoner from the yellow farmhouse called out in an insufferable,\nfawning yelp, \"I know him! He used to visit the signora! He is the\nconfidant of the signora and of her brother!\"\nA roar rose and drowned out Christina's voice. \"That man--how comes he\nthere! The friends of Allegra Alieni are her friends!\"\nThe crowd did not advance for the ring of Herrick's gun was still\npressed against Mr. Gumama's beautiful brow. But some shrill voice rose,\na-quiver with exhorting hate. \"The hour is come! For what have we\nwaited? Till they had not a shot left! They have none now! If they had\nthey would have shot Gumama when he came in! They do not shoot him,\nnow--they have nothing to shoot! Give the signal! They hid the friend of\nAllegra Alieni behind the window--how shall they tell us her friends are\nnot their friends? How shall they tell us they can injure our Gumama?\nClose in! Close in!\"\nThe tide of the Camorra washed forward, and surged up the first terrace.\nBut it came to a halt.\n\"How?\" Christina had cried. And then, extending the revolver that\ncarried the last shot, she had fired straight into the dead face of Ten\nEuyck.\nThe jar shattered that perilous equilibrium. The corpse fell in upon\nitself, its weapon dropping with a clank, the tongue suddenly protruding\nbeneath the shattered cheekbones and the head goggling on the breast.\nThe note of one still unaffrighted bird came through the perfect\nstillness.\nThe invading army shivered, shocked and applausive; then,\napprehensively, it glanced at Gumama. It drew together in consulting\nknots. Some men, coming from round the house, joined the counsel and\ncreated a sensation. A puzzled but now rather friendly voice shouted,\n\"Some one lies! Alieni was seen to enter where you are!\"\nThey all looked at Christina. But the wire had snapped at last. She\nstood with a scared vagueness on her white face, the pistol swinging\nloose in her hand and her eyes fixed on the hunched clutter of what had\nbeen Ten Euyck. Herrick made out to translate the message and Kane said,\n\"Ask 'em if they'll send up that investigating committee?\"\nChristina's shot had made, however, too great an impression. If they had\nammunition to spare, they were no hosts for the Camorra. Would the\nAmericans come out, each one, upon the second terrace?--bringing, also,\nthe dead and wounded, till Gumama shall tell us there are no more?\n\"When the devil drives--! Say we'll begin with the dead!\"\nThey began with Ten Euyck. Sheriff Buckley took the head, Kane the feet;\nthe long, bony figure sagged between them and the tails of its\ndress-coat flopped as if pointing jocularly toward the ground. As they\nbore this burden down the terraces and laid it on the smooth greenness\nof the lawn, amid the ever brightening daylight and the ever growing\nchirp and twitter of the slowly calming birds, various disheveled\nfigures began to hurry into view along the drive from the river. These\narrivals had all the air of refugees and continued to excite, in\ncounsel, an increasing perturbation. Yet the truce remained unbroken. So\nlong as Kane and Buckley, exposed, defenseless, to the first marksman,\ncarried forth Nicola no word nor movement was given in enmity. But the\ndelay in reaching the figure in the gallery produced great restiveness.\nTaunts and outcries of nervous impatience gave way, when the two men\nappeared with their slighter burden, to a chorus of half-derisive\nwelcome. The Camorra had begun to be in a hurry.\nIts nervousness communicated itself to the men who bore this third body\ndown the great stone steps and laid it at Ten Euyck's right hand. A\nthick sweat stood out upon them when a sharp storm of curses, geysers\nand downpours of venom broke suddenly from heavens and earth. But the\ntempest was not for them. The face of their last burden had become\nvisible to the advance guard stationed among the foremost trees and this\nnow leaned violently forth, tossing like branches with the shriek,\n\"Alieni! Traditore! Alieni!\"\nUpon that the shadow of the woodland broke at last. A dozen men, their\nhats screened low to shield their faces, detached themselves from the\nmass which crouched greedily after them and, racing out upon the lawn,\nthrew themselves prostrate on the soft, supine thing that lay there.\nBehind them the tide became ungovernable; rose, swelled forward; covered\nthe road, the lowest terrace; raving, shrieking, leaping and falling;\nbiting the grass upon which it rolled in frenzy. There were perhaps two\nminutes of pandemonium. Then a whistle sounded. Then another. The tide\nrolled back; the groves of oak and pine and maple swallowed it into\ntheir shadow; and of that orgy of living hate no trace remained in the\nfull clearness of the fresh morning but the trampled, mangled body of\nFilippi Alieni, pierced with fifty-eight wounds and still bearing\nbetween the shoulder blades a triangular knife. The will of the Camorra\nwas satisfied.\nA chorus of whistles sounded from the wood. Then arose a single voice,\ndemanding Gumama. His captors realized that the war was over; the\nprisoner was released. Despite the hurrying bird-calls of his mates he\npaused, thoughtfully knitting his Saracen brows, for a look at\nChristina.\nThe girl was standing perfectly still, with her eyes intent upon Ten\nEuyck's empty chair, as if she had not observed his removal; her gaze\nwas fixed, but her lower lip strained and quivered. As Gumama paused the\npistol slid from her hand; the noise of its dropping at her feet\nattracted her eyes; she shivered violently; broke into trembling mirth\nand sank, till her soft cheek and the convulsive throbbing of her young\nbody lay pressed upon the stone. Herrick and Gumama both sprang to her.\nHerrick lifted her head upon his knee, but she lay limp and shook from\nhead to foot with sobbing laughter.\nGumama shrugged and stood back. \"Is it,\" he asked, \"the silver\nbracelet?\" Then they all saw that the bracelet snatched from Nancy was\non Christina's wrist.\nHerrick nodded; his soul was sick with that horror. There was no\ntriumph, now, in victory.\n\"Tell her,\" said the tall Sicilian, \"when she avenges her friend to\nthink of me. I will come. Always. She is the pearl of everything. All\nwould not see it. But I have the piercing eye. I see.\"\nHe ran off swiftly; and the sort of uproarious twitter which welcomed\nhim under the trees ended in a final message. \"Farewell, Americans. You\ndo us the courtesy of our beloved Gumama! We do you our courtesy--Flee!\nWhoever you are, the policemen are upon you! They are coming from the\ngate, they are coming from the river! In ten minutes they will be here!\nAmericans, farewell!\"\nIt was the last word of the Camorra in their lives. The undergrowth of\nthe wood seemed to grow scantier; it was the backward fading of the\nshadows, it was the passing of a great, black bulk; the disappearance of\ninnumerable unknown persons whom they had never even seen, of whose\nexistence they had never even known, out of their path. Nothing remained\nbut the signaling whistles of the Camorra, gathering its children in its\nretreat. The thing was over. The last consequence of the Ingham murder,\nof the birth of the Hopes' first child twenty-eight years ago in Naples,\nwas over and done. And the three men regarded each other with a strange\nfeeling of vacancy.\nBut in the mouths of Kane and the sheriff the morning air was good and\nlife ran sweet in their veins. Even to Herrick, with the exhausted girl\nlaughing and shuddering in his arms, there seemed to rise a kind of\nfuture hope when forgetfulness should deal tenderly with her. Soon she\nmust begin to weep and the other side of weeping a kind of consolation\nlies. \"Why, her own youth and life must heal her!\" Kane said. \"It's\nhard, it's bitter hard! But there's her feeling for you, her future, her\nwork--Don't look at her as if she were dying! Time, my boy, she needs\ntime, that's all!--As for Nancy Cornish, she fell with one shot. And\nsince she was so much in love with that poor fellow, believe me, she's\nbetter off!\"\nHerrick looked up in alarm, lest Christina should hear bad news. But she\nwas lost in the hot surge of tears that had come to her at last and lay\nonly quieter and quieter in his hold. Till at length, since there was a\ntime coming when she must know if Fate had played her doubly false, he\nfetched a coat to put under her head and drew Kane aside. \"You meant\njust now--?\"\n\"I meant what I've had on my mind through all this night, as something\nwith which I didn't know how to face Miss Hope. I meant that this chap\nDenny was never a very lucky fellow--\"\n\"But that never was anything unluckier than his consenting to leave the\nTombs.\"\n\"Because they followed and brought him back?\"\n\"They followed. But they didn't bring him back!--I forgot you wouldn't\nknow. The Italians somehow palmed off on Ten Euyck's men another Italian\nmade up with the things in which they took Denny from the Tombs. It's\neasy enough to understand now why Ten Euyck, with discreet mercy, called\nthis substitute simply a mistake and let him go.\" He paused, studying\nthe driveway with clouded eyes. \"The Italians must have got clear away\nwith Denny, but why did they take so much pains? Were they really going\nto hand over to Allegra a man whom they certainly considered in some\nway their enemy, when already they must have begun to turn against her?\nWhat were they going to do with him? What _did_ they try to do with him\nwhen he was first imprisoned in the Tombs? Don't groan, my boy! It's the\none way out. It's the most merciful thing for that poor girl, there;\nit's the most merciful thing for Denny himself. Hope for it! If his\ncaptors didn't get away, if he's been retaken with them, then marry\nChristina Hope as fast as may be and get her out of this country for\nawhile. You understand?\" Herrick looked up. \"I intend, with all my\nstrength, to keep my bargain. I'll go to the Governor to-morrow. But he\nlet me know, as I was starting here, that it would be useless.\"\n\"After his promise?\"\n\"Since that promise Denny broke jail. There are minds to which such a\nmove is always the unpardonable sin! Against it the mere justifying\nprovocation in any story Allegra Alieni may tell could make no appeal.\nBesides, it's told by a woman who was in love with him, and who, by this\ntime, is either dead or run away. So must be every witness to it. Even\nas evidence against the blackmailers, if there are any left, Miss Hope\ncan't force the state to sell her his life for this, now. Well, some\nday, perhaps, you can make her see that whatever happens, police or\nCamorra, he managed to get his way, poor chap! If she weren't fooled by\nlife's being hope she would see, well enough, that he was the last man\nto thank her for a light sentence. He was keen against jail, you\nremember?\"\nThey were both silent. Yes, Herrick remembered. \"The best friend\nChristina ever had\" she would surely some day see could not have\nlingered in the black durance that he loathed.--Rest, rest, perturbed\nspirit!\nIt was the hour for resolution, for new birth. Herrick felt a strength\nof pity in his breast whose tide should lift Christina from the\nwhirlpools of which the lessening eddies still plucked at her sick soul.\nPoor girl, poor, brave, spoiled, wilful, imperious, generous heart! To\nhave fought so hard and to be checked thus at the end! To have\noutwatched, outstalked, outrun the hounds for this! \"Thus far shalt thou\ngo....\" Hers had been a heroic presumption, but it had been presumption\nall the same. You cannot outface consequences nor outdare natural\ntragedy; no, not even you, Christina Hope! After all, could she have\nexpected to clear out from a morass like this without a loss? Ah, for\nher defeat he suffered, but for her safety he thanked God! Rest, time,\nthe irrevocable--these in the end would place the past under her feet.\nWas it because she read the tender vowing of his thought that she had a\nlittle ceased to weep?\nFor she lifted her exhausted face, where the wild, wet eyes still seemed\nto listen, just as Herrick remembered their continual guard six weeks\nago. She was listening to those chorusing signals, still whistled from\nfar stations nearer road and river and returned in such imitation of\nbird voices that bird after bird replied. They were growing\nfainter--they were retreating on every hand--all but one, which seemed\nto advance and to give forth a more familiar note. And suddenly\nChristina answered it.\nHerrick caught her closer, in a new terror of delirium. The girl rose to\nher knees and put him back. \"But we've wandered many a weary foot--\"\nFrom among the fleeing whistles of the wood one had certainly warned or\nquestioned in articulate notes with which hers joined in a familiar\nbar--\"Since auld lang syne, my dear--\" Through the colorless day a\nstrong yellow light had begun to flood the earth; the clouds were carved\nout sharp in it, the woods stood black; the light had a blush of happy\nfire and the air sparkled. In that cool radiance, in that bright hour,\nout from among the very waves of the Camorra's receding sea, a single\nfigure stepped from the border of the wood and came straight up the\nterraces.\nNot so tall as Mr. Gumama but still vaguely Sicilian in cut, the\nmessenger or fugitive or whatever he might be advanced under the gaze of\nthose who grew terribly pale and could not speak; Christina peering\nforward, shaking from head to foot, her clenched hands hanging at her\nside and her lips caught between the knocking of her teeth. The echoing,\nominous whistles, the noises of rescue approaching from two sides, the\nhails of the police, the sound of wheels, tires, horses' hoofs and\nrunning feet did not deter the single figure which, mounting with a kind\nof steady stumble, like one far spent, blind, now, to the danger of\nsudden bullets, indifferent to arrest or punishment or anything in\nheaven or earth but his own ends, gained at length the foot of the stone\nsteps and lifted his face. At the same instant the risen sun glinted on\nthe swinging gold of sailors' earrings, on the bracelet slipped out\nbelow a ragged cuff, on the red cord of a scapular and on the scarf in\nthe Sicilian colors that had helped to play their part in the Duel by\nWine in the loft above the garage. The wearer was damp from the river\nand stained with earth, yet smelling of singed cloth and grimed with\nsmoke; torn, wounded, blackened, haggard, with bright, steady eyes. It\nwas Will Denny. He carried the unconscious but still breathing figure of\nNancy Cornish in his arms.\nThe first thing she woke to was Allegra's letter and Kane's question,\n\"Do you know what this document contains? Can you witness its truth?\"\nAnd then answered Nancy Cornish, \"Of course I can! I saw her come out in\nChristina's cloak. They kept me waiting in the motor outside while she\nshot Mr. Ingham.\"\nCHAPTER VII\nTHE SHADOW'S FACE: BEING ALSO THE FULL STORY OF THE SHADOW'S FLIGHT\nThe whole of Allegra's document was never made public. Before it was\nread even by those concerned they heard from Nancy how, when she had run\nfrom the window of the boathouse, it was Allegra who had reappeared\nthere, she whose red hair Gumama had glimpsed through the smoke and she\nwhom Alieni had found courage to shoot. Afterwards they got from Denny\nthe story of his venture: how he had guessed that, on leaving the Tombs,\nhe would, in his own person, be kept a prisoner by his Italian hosts\ntill he was got out of the country; and how he had therefore persuaded\nFilippi Alieni to change places with him--Filippi to be carried to\nAllegra and he to receive at the meeting of the Camorra a message that\nwould take him to Nicola, to the hiding of the Arm of Justice and to\nNancy Cornish. What must forever sicken Denny to think of was that hour\nin the boathouse when Nancy might have yielded and taken the laudanum\nthat Mrs. Pascoe had finally secured, before he could get to her.\nNancy's eyes were upon him, regarding him fixedly and strangely. With\nthe vividness of his remembrance he broke off to question her. \"How, at\nsuch a time, among such dangers, did you dare to throw it away?\"\n\"Why, I had to! No matter what! I had to live till the last minute. The\nletter was gone. I was your life. I was the only one who knew!\"\nHe dropped his face into her lap with a strange laugh. By and by, they\nturned to the story of Allegra.\nThat great donkey of a Ten Euyck wishes me to write this. He says it is\nfor his protection, but I know well enough what it is for. It is a net\nto catch a peacock--to whom he is welcome. He will never bray about\nme--this is two-edged; it would avenge me. It is a pity none will ever\nread it, for it is a good story and I should like every one to know\nabout me. Then, too, sometimes, I almost think that when I am far away\nand sheltered with my friends, I will send word of it to high places for\n_his_ sake. For I shall be always in torment if they kill him. That is,\nif by then there shall be no Nancy Cornish. To send him, free, to the\narms of another woman--no, that would be a little too much!\nI am a remarkable girl. It has taken to crush me the same as to crush\nNapoleon--bad luck. My bad luck began when I was born, with the two\ncolors of my eyes. Thus a mark was put upon me, keeping me always in\nholes and corners unless I would be known, and making most men, who love\nme by nature, growing in time to weary of my face. If it had not been\nfor the blue eye and the brown, my mother would never have noticed,\namong the children in the park, the American baby with the fair down\nupon its head who, when she came to look at it, was made with a shaped\nface like mine, and who also had a brown eye and a blue. She would never\nhave made friends with the nurse and learned how the child was named\nAllegra Hope, and how the rich Americans had been married but four\nmonths before it was born, and were to wait in Italy till it could be\nbrought home a year younger than it was. This the nurse had picked up,\nnot being supposed to speak much English. And then came the telegram to\ncome home, somebody was dying. And at the same time the nurse was sick,\nand there was no one with whom to leave the child. And then the nurse\nbrings forth her friend who has always showed so fond of the child, and\nthere is rejoicing because she is American, and the English doctor says\nshe is healthy and the child is left with her. It is treated well; it\ngrows; it grows more and more like me, who am but one year the older, so\nthat all laugh to see us, and I am more like that other mother than my\nown, showing in what class it would have been just I should be born. And\nthe old creature in America does not die, but hangs and hangs, and money\nis always sent for the baby, and by and by when it is three years old it\ncatches the fever and it dies. And the English doctor is to write to the\nparents, but he does not write--he does an injury to one of the great\nclan of the Camorra and he writes no more. And I grow every day more\nbeautiful, more strong, more strange to have sprung out of the mud, and\nthe money keeps coming and coming; but that the dead one was fair in the\nhead, and I am red like the sun, there is no great difference from what\nshe might have been, and that she is dead and buried and the money spent\nand spent on me, is never told. But they there in America, thinking to\nbe gone but a month at most, never said there was a daughter, so they\nknow not how, now, one is to be produced.\nSo that when I am seven years old, comes the Hope man; he looks upon the\nchild with the blue eye and the brown, and sighs his great breath on my\nhair, and takes me to the English school. But I come every summer to my\nown people, so that I have all that is best of both kinds, and grow to\nbe so beautiful and have such fascination, that when there comes\nsometimes a Hope father or Hope mother to take me on a trip and be sorry\nfor me, I laugh at their backs! The mother I do not like, and she does\nnot like me. She is a fool, and she has, too, another child. It is a\ngirl and it is said to be pretty; but the picture she carries with her\nresembles a pale, shapeless child with dull hair,--not like mine that\nburns men's hearts like fire! Moreover this child has things that I\nshould have, more money, more fuss, she is more shown. I am proud to be\nwhat I am; my mother, who is scarcely more than a common servant, had\nthe great luck to marry into the Camorra, and my brother Nicola at\neighteen takes the oath, so I am not come alone from dull peasants and\nthese cackling Yankees, but from free men, born to judge, born to\nstrike, born to live wild and to satisfy their blood. But all the same,\nas to this brat, Christina, I am the elder sister and I should have all,\n_all_! I make up my mind to be even with her and to spoil what things\nshe has. I hear how she is strange, and is a lonely child, and plays she\nhas a sister to talk to, a little girl who lives in the looking-glass;\nand how it is a game of hers that when she is in a gown of pink the\nsister is in blue, and when they buy her a doll there is another for the\nsister, and a place set at the dolls' teas, and Christina talks for the\ntwo. Then I know she is a fool, like her mother.\nWhen I am fifteen, and of the right age for passion and to break men's\nhearts, my bad luck comes and breaks my own. It could not leave me with\nthe poor to be like the poor, it raised me up so that my nose sniffed at\nsight of them, and then it brought me together with Alonzo Pasquale, the\nson of a millionaire. He was mad for me, and well he might be, and I\nliked him so well, being young and fanciful, that I gave him\nencouragement. I ran away from school with him and we would have been\nhappy forever, he having so much to give me, but that he grew weary of\nmy blue eye and my brown. He told me so, for he was a dog and a devil,\nand I took little Filippi Alieni, and married him! It was wise. It was\nas well to be married, and he was a gentleman, with money. All was done\nas a wise girl should do, and yet see how my luck pursued me!\nHis people cast him off, on my account, their own daughters being ugly;\nand Nicola, who has been the best of brothers to me, Nicola got him\ninto the Camorra, where his gentlemanly manners would make him able to\nget, first, confidence, and then money, from the best.\nYet when I had been but three months married and was not yet sixteen, he\ngets himself caught. And in prison he tells, he betrays his comrades, so\nthat he is released, and for this Nicola does not kill him. No, he keeps\nthe secret of that disgrace, and ships us to America, where I am to\nintroduce my husband to the Hopes. All so well planned, and yet such\nluck!\nOne of those to whom he had confessed loses his place, and then, by\nblackmail, that he will give my husband's treachery to the Camorra, he\ngets from him all the money that he now has. So that I have to lose him\nquickly; to take the little, ah, so little! there is left, and slip\naway! I do not wish a Camorra knife in my back!\nI am afraid to go to the Hopes, for there he will follow me, and he is a\nsnivelling, watering thing to make a fuss and spoil all. So I ask for\nwork to teach Italian, and I live for a little while as if I were quite\ncommonplace. And so I meet with the great Jim.\nHail and farewell, my poor Jim! You were only twenty-three and you cared\ntoo much! You did so many things for me, you thought such things about\nme, and were of such a considerate politeness and care, it made me\nlaugh! But you were a beautiful lover, and I would have loved you, if I\ncould! I would have been glad to marry you, as you made me so weary\nbegging of me. I was very happy with you; you gave more to me and I\nthink you loved me better than any one. But you were very silly to\nbelieve me, and silly to leave me when you found me out! That little\nwhimpering puppy came; and, since you left me, and he had a good hint\nfrom Nicola how to get money from an Italian family here, what was I to\ndo? We did very well, for a while, besides the money the Hopes sent\nme--I told them I came here to escape impertinence and was teaching\nItalian--and then they lost their money and I wrote to them no more.\nBut Mrs. Hope, because of her sick conscience, was always trying, in sly\nways, to find where I was. And it seems when her brat was come to\nfourteen years old it chanced upon my last letter and learned all.\nHeavens, what a row it raised! And how I was written to and written to;\nand some letters being forwarded me that they had tried sending me to\nItaly, were all about how she cried for me, and pitied and loved me and\nrejoiced, and said, again and again: \"Oh, mother, I have a sister! I\nhave a sister!\" \"Bene!\" I thought, \"she sounds like a tiresome little\nminx; but at least it is a thing to know!\"\nSo that by and by--when Filippi is clumsy again and goes to jail for\nfour years, and they dare to put me there for two--when I come out I go\nto my sentimental miss, who is now more than sixteen and makes already a\nlittle money. Not a dollar has she made since but I have had the half of\nit. She has no frugality; she is all luxuries and caprices and always in\ndebt; and for a while it seemed as if really she would be scarcely of\nany use at all. But it is strange how pale she is, and yet attracts and\nshoots onward! Since then I have found a letter about those two years\nwhen I was silent. She wrote it to Will Denny, who thought she did too\nmuch for me. Like this:\n     \"As I grew up and understood, and saw what little girls can come to\n     in a world like this, I thought here was I and where was she?--My\n     elder sister, born in wedlock, born of my father and my mother,\n     grown up among peasants, among hardships, and if she had come to\n     harm, lost, thrown away, forsaken and denied--for what? For any\n     fault of hers? For a convention, a cowardice, done in obedience to\n     the chatter of fools and in order to stand well with those that\n     have no hearts! What can I think of my poor mother but that her\n     weakness forsook and denied her child to please the world? What can\n     I think of any shame or sorrow that touches Allegra but that this\n     is what the world and her own family have made of her? Oh, Will, it\n     came to be my madness to find her and to ask her forgiveness for\n     being in her place. All that I am and have and ever shall be I\n     stole from her, and only give her back again to repay what can\n     never in this world be repaid!\"\nYou see, she was a crazy girl from the beginning. As soon as ever I see\nher I know the thing to tell her is that I have been in prison for\nstealing--I do not tell her I am innocent; I tell her I was starving! It\nwas funny to see her--I was like a saint to her! I think of all I can\nthat is piteous and wild and of a great pride, broken, like a sick\neagle! I tell her about Ingham, but all wrong and round the other way,\nand how he cannot marry me because I am without money or place, and\nleaves me, when I am eighteen, without a dollar and without a name. And\nhow when that had come to a young girl I could not write. All, all\nbecause society had kept me from my place in life and, having turned me\nout, had locked me into jail because I could not starve.\nEh me, you should have seen her! She used herself like a maid to me, and\na mother and a little lover, all in one. And I might have done very well\nwith her, and the world would have been all for me to walk,--or this\nlittle running colt, she would have known the reason!--but for my bad\nluck. Nicola who would do better in this country with education wishes\nme to work with him. And how can I guess the growing brat will grow so\nfar and high? So I am glad enough to make a little butter to my bread.\nTry living once, three women, the Hope woman and Christina and me, off\nthe salary of a girl younger than eighteen and you will see. But who\nwould think that all the while this monkey girl was looking in the glass\nof my grace, to steal and steal and steal from me? And would steal once\ntoo often, for the moving-picture show, and gets herself into a corner!\nThat was, indeed, the justice of the gods.\nAll this time I have made Christina keep me secret. I have still the\nbrown and the blue eye, to be noticed everywhere, and I do not want\nFilippi on my hands, nor yet Jim Ingham. And for all she begs me to know\nthis Denny, whom she persists to tell about me, I think he has a look\nthat is not simple--the look of a man who has been about, and may guess\ntoo much--and so I will not--I am too sensitive and proud, and cannot\nface a person in the world except my little sister, whom I love so much\nand who is all I have! Except, I want the poor, devoted, kind, good folk\nwho brought me up! So when she is eighteen she begins to buy for me this\nfarm and here she welcomes my mother and Nicola. Nicola has found out\nfriends of ours and kinsfolk who have long run, among people of our\nnation in New York, a business called the Arm of Justice, and we work\nfor that; I having the best ideas, but, alas, ever doomed to hide. And\non the farm we live in innocence and peace, and conduct our business\nexcellently, out of the way of those from whom we make a little money,\nand here comes at last the sick puppy, Filippi, not to be kept off, who\ncan but sit quiet and lick his paws in the background, that Christina\nshall not know of him.\nAnd then, it is the first year of Ten Euyck being coroner, and a man who\nhas been paying us, unfortunately, dies, and Ten Euyck, nosing, nosing,\nhe comes upon our trail. And he sees how we have had nothing to do with\nthe death, only the man had no more to pay and so he killed himself. And\nTen Euyck sends for me, and tells me he is sorry for me and he will not\ninform against me. He tells me of a young girl he knows in the highest\nof society, for whom a friend of his had so great a fancy he was ready\nto marry her, and I knew he was that friend. And the girl dare not but\nlead him on, but all the time she prefers some one else and is in\ntrouble; and he tells me all he has found out and he says, \"I would not\ntell this to you, if I did not think you grateful to me and too discreet\nto use it otherwise than as I wish, when you know liberty is in my\nhand!\" So I know what I am to do, and the girl goes mad. And he pays me\nby and by, but not enough. But what can I do?\nWe are going mad, too, for money, for our bad luck is always there! That\nman who made Filippi pay has found us out, and exacts of us more and\nmore. We are in terror of the law from Ten Euyck, who has let none see\nhim but me, and not one strand to hold him by, and of the Camorra from\nthis brute. We work hard, we run great danger, and we remain poor, so\nthat if we lose Christina we have nothing but what we must make and pay\naway--and Christina engages herself to Ingham! Was it not enough to\nbreak the heart! What use is it to work, to struggle, to be beautiful,\nand to have nothing? And here is this silly girl, not worth my little\nfinger, who has all!\nThree times more I work for Ten Euyck, and that man Kane gets after us.\nIt is all the fault of Ten Euyck, who has made us conspicuous, and he\nknows Kane thinks there is something strange, and he loses his nerve. He\ncomes always to the farm like a caller, when I have sent all away but\nme, for he will put nothing in writing, and he drives his own machine.\nAnd one day he is raging against Ingham and Christina, and what he would\ngive to know against them, any more than Ingham's dissipation, and I\nthink \"Maybe I can make something out of this!\"\nBy and by I rejoice to hear that there is trouble with Jim Ingham. He is\nnot the boy I found him. He has let himself go wild so long he cannot\ntame himself, all at once, and then he is exacting, like a fiend, and\njealous and suspicious, not believing in himself, nor anything, nor\nanybody; and I laugh to myself, if she should know why! For were there\nnothing else at all, it would annoy me that chit should marry him! But I\nam pleased, and in that moment I let her bring out to me her Will Denny\nand her Nancy Cornish. And so I spoil my life and break my heart, and do\nnot know myself with love.\nI have come to be twenty-eight years old and nothing has counted. Then I\nmeet him, and nothing else can count. I say to myself that I will have\nhim, and I know it is not possible but I shall get him. But still he is\nall eyes and ears for a rag of a girl, who is so sick with love she\nknows not even how to charm. She knows nothing at all but to love him;\nand to love him nicely--so that she would not make him unhappy, even to\nhold him forever! It makes me ill to look at her, and still I cannot get\nhim to look at me. But I can make him seem to look at me. I can make him\never with me, and amused by me, and of a manner a little sweet and\ntender to me--the poor sister of Christina, whom he can see to be dying\non her feet for love of him. And the little rag of a girl sees how\nbeautiful I am and full of life and far above her every way and fit for\nhim, and knows no better than to grow pale and to keep out of the way,\nand to be silent and cold with him. And he begins to be hurt and not to\nfollow her so hard, and then she finds me crying, crying. And at first I\nwill not tell, but then I say how I must go away, because I love him. By\nand by I say that I would not have to go but I am afraid if I stay I\nwill steal him from her. And at last, very reluctant, I show her a\nletter--for Nicola, who has done something in that line, too, was ever a\ngood brother to me and taught and helped me well, so that it was in\nWill's hand. It said how he would never forsake Nancy, who loved him,\nfor she could not live without him, but I was brave and strong and he\nmust be so, too. It said how we were each other's mates, he and I, but\nmet too late, and his heart would be mine forever, but he could never\nforsake nor pain his poor Nancy. Crack, she broke her engagement, the\nlittle fool! Who never had scarcely been able to understand how he\nshould love her, as no more could I--and she shuts herself away from\nhim, and will not answer and will tell him nothing! Only, she's changed\nher mind. And he says to Christina, \"I am too old for her, and not so\ngay!\" And I see him tear up the photographs she has sent back, and sneer\nat them, and say how God knows she could never have taken him for a\nbeauty! And oh, I am so kind to him! I am so gentle and so sad, and I\nget new clothes and dress my hair, and always he can see me die of love.\nAnd so there comes a day when he asks me if I would be afraid to take\nthe pieces of our lives and see what we could make of them together.--Ah\nme! and to think it all had to be kept secret because I was still so\nproud and sad! For bethink you, there was Filippi!\nI think at last what a fool I am not to have divorced Filippi long ago!\nHere I am, betrothed to marry and it is all to do yet! Long ago, had I\nnot been so soft-hearted, or had I thought of it, I might have been rid\nof fearing the spy who threatens him with the Camorra, in being rid of\nhim. I wonder how much Filippi will take to set me free, and he makes a\nhorrible fuss and will take nothing at all! But his spy is begun all\nfresh, killing him by inches with demands for five thousand dollars. And\nhe asks also five thousand, now, not to report Nicola who has remained\nsilent and a friend to us! It is all like a mad spider's web which but\nentangles more and more. And I think I will get that ten thousand from\nIngham because I do not publish the story I have told Christina. Or else\nfrom Ten Euyck, because I do.\nI send the Arm of Justice letter to Ingham's office that it may be\nforwarded to Europe. And then I hear from Christina that she cares for\nhim no longer and has written him, and already he is coming back to\nargue with her. Oh, my luck, my bad luck! If he has lost her already, he\nwill fight my lies! He will get my letter, too; he will connect that\nwith her broken promise, he will ask her if she knows a girl with a\nbrown eye and a blue, and what may he not guess and put into her head\nabout my business? I am in despair, I have a fit of crazy rage, and I\nthink, too, I will get ahead of him, so she will not listen to him. I\nsay to her, \"That man who ruined my life years ago, that was James\nIngham!\" I say to her, \"I could not let it go on, dear sister. But don't\nlet him know where I am.\" He comes straight to her, before he has my\nletter, and all she says to him is, \"You have never known all these\nyears that I had a sister.\" And then she tells him her sister's name,\nand he goes away.\nBut Nicola ever hopes that perhaps he will pay and at four o'clock\nwatches his window for my ribbon. Then he sees go in Nancy Cornish, and\nhe thinks that very queer and comes to tell me, who am round the corner\nin the car. We watch and see her come out, and turn east, and we follow\nher, and I see her going into the Park; a thing to drive me wild, for I\nknow well she used to meet Will Denny in the Park. She came much, much\ntoo soon this time, but did not care. Till she saw me.\nIf she had not come so soon, if she had kept her mouth shut, how\ndifferent all would be to-day! No! Out she came with it--Filippi has\ntold her! He has told her we are married! She has telephoned to my\nbetrothed, she is to tell him here! Filippi has done worse. He has said\nto her, \"This I would not tell to every one. But if she should seek to\ninjure you and get him back, say to her--What do you know of the Arm of\nJustice? She will let you alone, then!\" With those words did she not\nseal her own fate? He must have got drunk on talk, Filippi,--not being\nused to be listened to--for he tells her that Nicola and I wrote that\nletter from Will I gave her to read. He gives this girl the address of\nmy cousin, and says if Will comes there, directly, he will show him the\npapers of our marriage. Thus do these two little jealous, peeping fools\nspoil everything!\nIn the meanwhile Ingham has got my letter, and has guessed I wrote it.\nAnd he calls up this girl, whom he knows to be Christina's dearest\nfriend, and asks her, does she know Christina's sister? He tells her\nthat though all is broken between Christina and him, there are things\nChristina must not believe, and perhaps there is something she must\nknow. He asks when he can see this Cornish girl, and she tells him after\nrehearsal, but before five. She is very much excited, and she says how\nalways in her own room girls run out and in and so she will come to\nhim--She, mind you, the baby-girl! And there she tells him her tale and\nhe tells her his, my letter for the money and all, and she gives him the\naddress of my cousin, and there he has gone to find Filippi,--for she is\nnot so crazy Will shall go!--while she is telling me what she thinks of\nme, softly, in a low voice, in the Park. I think how Will Denny is\ncoming, and I make a little sign. And Nicola hits her once, and picks\nher up limp; I following with her hat, like a sister, in case we meet a\npoliceman. And we lift her in the automobile and put up the hood, going\nfast as we dare. At my cousin's they have denied to know of Filippi. For\nFilippi, out of the window, saw it was not Will, but Ingham. And we take\nher in there. She comes to, before long, and all we can do with her is\nto take her out of town. Only I must leave her at my cousin's now, for I\nam to dine with Will before his rehearsal.\nIt seems to me that any person of a pitiful heart, who also admires\ncourage and address, must be sorry for me, now. Here am I, born for\nlove and to command and charm, tied to Filippi and to lowly life; having\nplanned so wisely and dared so well, now with this rag of a girl on my\nhands, not knowing what to do with her; with the Camorra itself, all\nunconscious, closing ever in and in, by its offer to absorb our Arm of\nJustice; with the spite of Ingham on my heels and tattlers and spies on\nall sides, just when I need all my wit to win my love. For he has not\nhad time to learn to love me as he would love me before long. He is\nvery, very sweet to me, but he does not care. Just when he first turned\nto me there was one flash. I hope and I pray to all the saints, I plan\nand watch and make myself fair and think of all that can please him; I\nspend my days and nights to feed the fire; but it burns out. He is kind,\nhe thinks he is to marry me, he is fond of me, because I am sad and so\nis he. But he is sick for that Cornish girl who is not worth one hair of\nmy head, and I have no time to wait till his love grows. I think how I\nam to defend myself with him if Ingham talks; and when I get to the\nrestaurant where we have a private room--I am so shy and so sensitive,\nlest people laugh at my queer eyes!--there I find he has met Christina\non the street and carried her along to ask her does she know why Nancy\ndid not come in the Park.\nWell, I tell him. I tell him Ingham's name, as I have told it to\nChristina. And he does not like Ingham, whom he has seen fascinate\nChristina against her will, and whom he has heard of as a brute to\nwomen. And always Ingham has wished Christina to be less friends with\nhim, and has done many little things in hate of him. So that he is all\nready to believe what I say; how his Nancy was afraid to face him this\nlong while, and meant to try this afternoon and failed; and how it is\nIngham who has given her money to go away. I think it will make him hate\nher. I think it will make him not listen to Ingham. I do not know it\nwill make him perfectly cold and perfectly still, not speaking a\nword--not even when Christina, for the first time in her whole life, is\nangry with me and tells me I deceive myself, I misunderstood Nancy, he\ndoes not speak.\nHe talks nicely about other things at dinner, but he does not go toward\nthe theater afterwards. And when Christina asks him why not, he says he\nforgot something which he has at home. And she says to him, \"You cannot\ngo to Ingham now, you have a dress-rehearsal.\" And he says, \"I have not\nforgotten that.\" So she takes me with her to Nancy's boarding-house, and\nthere they who are busy and notice no better, say she has gone out to\ndinner, before the theater, with a Miss Grayce. And Christina goes home\nto see if she can get word to Ingham to keep out of Will's way and I go\nback to my cousin's table d'h\u00f4te.\nNow we have never said to Christina that we have a car. She cannot\nafford us one, however she tries, and we do not want her to know we have\never a dollar but from her. We sell a little from the farm, and she\nknows we send this in to market by a man with a truck, and she is\nwilling to spend so much on her own fancies that she even arranges with\nhim to bring her my flowers. But for us she buys a little wagon with two\nseats and a plug of a horse. She needs not to know everything and watch\nall our movements. So mostly we keep the car at the other place; and\nhalf the time I am there myself. If she comes visiting to the farm I can\ntake the Cornish girl out there.\nBut I must first see Ingham and beg him to be merciful to me. And,\nindeed, he has loved me so much, I think he cannot resist to be a little\nkind. And I leave Nancy in the car with Nicola and the boys and with her\nmouth stopped, across the street from Ingham's house under the windows\nof that Herrick. So, without thought of fear, I enter. Afterward, when I\nread about the elevator boy, I remember I have on a favorite of\nChristina's dresses. For, naturally, of hers, I take what I choose.\nWell, there is nothing to be done with Ingham--he is mean, mean\nthrough. He will give me up to the police. He has heard before of the\nArm of Justice; he says that he will break it. And then I tell him he\nwould better clear out, for I know Christina thinks that Will will kill\nhim. And it is then Will rings and when he, grinning, welcomes Will in,\nhe sees, and any one may see, that Will has his revolver in his hand.\nBut when Will finds me there he is stricken dumb. And Ingham laughs and\nsays, \"You wonder what this injured lady is doing here? Ask Nancy\nCornish!\"\nAnd Will cries out at him, not so very loud, but as a sword goes through\nthe air, \"Ask Nancy Cornish!\" and then, very low, \"Do not imagine but\nthat I shall ask Nancy Cornish! And you shall tell me where she is!\"\nThen Ingham says, \"Well, if you didn't wish her to have done with you,\nmy dear fellow, why did you throw her over for this married lady?\"\nWill never gets any further than to stand by that panel of wall, between\nthe porti\u00e8res and the door. He looks to me and not to Ingham, and it is\nthe one time in my life when I can think of nothing to say. I talk on\nand on, but I say nothing. It is the fault of that Ingham who continues\nto laugh, and to play like an angel who is a devil, too.\nI tell him that Filippi married me when I was an ignorant child, with\npoor people, for the sake of the Hopes' money; how he brought me to this\ncountry and deserted me and came back after I had thought I was free,\nand had made friends with Ingham because I was destitute and alone. And\nhe does not speak. But he does not believe me. I fall down on my knees\nand tell him, before Ingham's face, how I love him, and only him; how\nthere never was any other man who had my heart! How when I saw him I\nknew he was my life, and I was born anew in knowing him. I tell him how\nI fear to let him know I am married. But how I am trying all the time to\nget free, and how I would have been free before I married him; how not\nfor years have I been a wife to Filippi who hangs upon us and will not\nwork and does not care for me! And I take his hand and cover it with\nkisses and with tears, and I implore him not to leave me, I shall die if\nhe leaves me! And I ask him if he himself has never in his life done\nwrong! And I swear if I lied to him it was for love for him! He knows\nthat is true; he cannot look at me, and not know! And I throw myself\ndown, before his feet.\nHe lifts me up by one shoulder, and he looks at me long and long; still\nkind but very cold and still, and what he says is, \"Then was it a lie\nyou told me about her--and this man?\" He has not one thought of me, at\nall.\nIt throws me into a great rage. I spring up and round the table, and\nJim, who has not ceased to play, laughs loud, and gives one crash of\nchords. It is his triumph and I could kill him for it. I am all one fire\nof hate that tosses in the wind, and I lift my arm and Herrick sees my\nshadow on the blind. But quick I put my hand over my mouth, petrified.\nFor at that moment there is a soft, quick knocking on the door and\nChristina's voice saying, \"Let me in, both of you! Let me in!\"\nBy good luck, she has come while I am silent. And I leap forward and\ncatch my hat up off the table and fly behind the curtains. For I know I\nhave lost Will. And if I lose her, too, I have nothing. And Ingham\nbreaks into the march from \"Faust,\" triumphing, and just then I see\nthrough the curtain crack on the little chair at Will's side his pistol\nthat he has dropped. And I hear Ingham say, now all in fury, \"Shall I\nlet her come in? Shall I tell at last what you are, through and\nthrough?--\" And the door opens. She had her key, Christina, that she had\nforgot to give him back. And she calls out, sharp, to Will. But she\nturns to Ingham and says, \"I implore you, leave me with him a moment!\"\nAnd he swirls round to see where I have run. I snatch up Will's pistol\nand fire past him from behind the curtain into Ingham's heart. Will\nreaches back to catch my hand and shakes the pistol out of it. It has\nnot taken one breath and his first thought is for Christina, yes, and\nfor me, and he snaps off the light. There she stands in the doorway; the\nlight in the hall on Ingham fallen back dead. And when she turns her\neyes again, there is still no one there but Will. Will stoops for the\npistol that still smokes and drops it loose in his pocket.\n[Illustration: \"Shall I let her come in? Shall I tell at last what you\nare, through and through?--\"]\nYou are to remember it is what she has come there to prevent. And before\nshe has time scarcely to breathe, he forces her back across the\nthreshold. Up he swoops her in his arms for he is strong like wire, and\nlight and swift as a hound is, and flies with her for the back stairs. I\nwait, for if she sees me I do not know, any more than he does, which way\nshe will turn. She has stood by him, and perhaps she would have stood by\nme; but not if she had known the truth. And at the back stairway he asks\nher, \"Can we trust the Deutches?\" And she replies, \"For me, yes. But I\nwill not trust your life with any one.\" And then, poor fellow, he must\nhave seen what she thought, and made up his mind to let her think it. I\nwas her sister; and he had gone into that room the man who was to marry\nme. He could still feel my kisses and my arms about him; and he never\ndreamed that Ingham was to denounce me for a criminal--he thought I\nfired not from mingled frenzies, but from only the desperate love of\nhim. Besides, it was only accident he had not fired himself. He would\nnot have given me up if he had died.\nFor me, almost in a moment, it is too late to run. I stumble on\nChristina's cloak and scarf, that she has had on her arm and dropped in\nthe dark. I am terribly afraid! I am in panic to think they are all\ncoming, and I bolt the door! I wish only to hide and yet I know I cannot\nhide! I am wild! I try the closet. It is locked. I run behind the\nporti\u00e8res, knocking over the little chair in the dark. I have no plan,\nnothing but fear! Till, with the feeling of the curtains close about me,\nI remember how I once slipped out of the rooms of a man I had been to\nsee on business, for the Arm of Justice. He had called the people out of\nthe front room into the other, the room where I was, and as they all got\nin, I had slipped out. How to get them in here? Then I drag in Ingham's\nbody. I stand close in my cloak colored like the curtains, and once I\nhear Deutch's voice I remember that it is Christina's cloak. He makes it\nall easy. To come out while those men were working, there at the closet,\nis terrible, but there are the trolley-car and my automobile making good\nnoises. I have pinned my hat under the cloak, and my slippers I put in\nits inside pocket. It is when the police have cleared the halls. I have\nscarcely got to the back-stairs when the people begin peeping out again.\nI have in my hand Christina's key. I turn to the door of the apartment\nnearest the back stairs, to pretend I am unlocking it. And the knob\nturns in my hand. The decorators have left it open and I walk in and\nslip the catch. There I wait till all the hunt is done. But I wish to be\nrid of the little pistol, shaped for the impunitura of the Camorra,\nwhich, in early days, Filippi had made for me and on which once, before\nNicola forbade me, I had tried to scratch \"Camorrist.\" Were I taken with\nthat, I should have every foe on my heels! I wish that I might slip it\ninto the coat-pocket of that great boy with the figure of gods--he who\nled the chase and deafened me with his hammering. Then I remember him\ntelling the police where he lives. It makes me laugh; there are scraps\nof wall-paper about. On one of these I write a message and in this I\nwrap my impunitura. Then, long after, when all my cackling geese have\ncackled into bed again, I go up to the roof and across into the next\nhouse. There is an opening of some feet between the two apartment\nhouses, and it may be that Will jumped it, but I think not. I think he\nmust have gone up to the front, where the cornices join, and crept and\nbalanced along the little ledge behind them, as I do. And I walk boldly\ndown those stairs where all is still, and choose a moment when the\nnight-boy takes some one up in the elevator, and then I cross the\noffice, and Nicola is still waiting with the car. I stuff the impunitura\nin the letter-box and I am away, away!--But the little rag of a girl,\nshe knows when I went in and when I came out!\nSo now you see how hard my problem is, my problem that is double: what\nto do with her, and how to save my love! Three weeks and more go by, and\nfor him I am beginning to breathe. And he tells Christina nothing,\nnothing at all. Only he asks her did she meet me as she came up, for I\nhave only just run out as he and Ingham quarrel. And she says no, Deutch\nbrought her up in the freight-elevator. Thus she is not surprised to\nhear about my shadow on the blind; she thinks I came there like her to\nget Jim away. But she fears I will be implicated and my poor story told.\nThis she thinks of a great deal, and keeps me very quiet in the country.\nWhile she, if you please, is no sooner saved from Ingham but she takes\nup that boy with the figure of gods, who saw my shadow. The fool did not\nfeel such a kindness for that which moved with splendid grace! Nor did\nhe keep my pistol. But perhaps he wants her money. I tell Nicola and the\nboys he is the spy who drains us of ours, and who is carrying news to\nher from little Stanley of my letters. They will rid her of him! And no\none knows who fired that shot but Will and me, no one. And Mother\nPascoe-Ansello watches all the time what we do with Nancy Cornish. I am\nvery good to Nancy Cornish. In case she should, by any chance, get away\nand tell Will and Christina. For there are some things they would not\nforgive. I am frightened, now, and I would let her go, if I could.\nAnd, then, Ten Euyck will not pay me! He is furious I have shot Ingham,\nwhich he finds out at the inquest, and yet he must give me his\nprotection. And he says what I said in the Ingham letter was a lie, and\nhe will not pay for lies; they are wrong in all ways, for they never\nwork. And money I must have, or that spy of Filippi's will settle us. We\nhave just been received by the Camorra and all must be careful. Then I\nthink Christina can some way get it. But not to know it is for me. So at\nlast I threaten the little Nancy, and she is glad to write as I say. And\nshe cut off the lock of her hair at my own dressing-table with my own\nscissors, when mine was all down my back to show her that I had more\nthan she.\nAnd when we do not have the answer that we hope for, she begins to fret\nterribly. She is always listening and watching; she is so helpless and I\nam lonely and perhaps I talk too much! Then, oh, my God, he is arrested!\nI cannot keep it to myself, I run screaming through the house! I think I\nshall die, and I think almost that that rag of a girl will kill me! She\nrecognized his voice up there cry, \"Ask Nancy Cornish!\" and she has not\nsaid one word so that I think she thinks he did it. But when they catch\nhim and she jumps at me that it was I, she can see it in my face. And\nshe makes a terrible scene--begs me and prays me to denounce myself, to\nsave him. And then I know that she must die.\nBut I have a mind to Mother Pascoe-Ansello, and I make a bargain with\nthis girl. I ask her what she will promise, and she says _anything_. And\nI ask her if I write a full confession to the District-Attorney and mail\nit when things go hard with Will, will that content her? Oh, very fine!\nSo I tell her it is what I would do, who would die for him to-morrow,\nbut that it would give him to her arms. And she says she will go away,\nshe will never see him. I reply, \"He will find you, he will make you.\"\nAnd she says to me eager, with open mouth, \"What can I do?\" I answer,\n\"You are not very well. You grow every day more feverish. Nothing shall\never happen to you under my roof. But if it should, how it would solve\nall.\" She says, \"Will you let me keep the letter myself and mail it\nmyself?\" and I say, \"Yes.\" So then she says, \"You gave me laudanum so I\ncould sleep. When I have mailed that letter, give me some more.\" Oh, I\nfeel such a relief! If she is found, even, with laudanum it is suicide.\n\"Will you ask for it every night, aloud, before them all, and after you\nhave mailed the letter will you take--enough? Will you swear?\" \"Oh,\" she\nsays, \"upon his freedom, I do swear.\"\nSo! Thus far has she read. And now she falls ill. And any hour, now, may\nTen Euyck come for this. And I must warn him I will not have him drop\nanother word before Nicola, as though Will would drag us all in by\ntelling I was there with him. Nicola's hand might reach into his prison.\nWhen Nancy wakes, she has still this envelope--stuffed with blanks. But\nif I cannot fool her, Nicola has planned a better way. A fine way! For,\nafter that, she will be silent--she, who thought to be bride to the man\nI choose.--Oh, my love, you love her. If you, too, must die, it is for\nthat you die, my darling! For no little rag of a girl can frustrate the\nwill of\n     ALLEGRA ANSELLO ALIENI.\nCHAPTER VIII\nIN WHICH CHRISTINA HOPE DOES POSITIVELY REAPPEAR\n     \"Oh, then, I'll marry Sally! For she is the darling of my heart--\"\n\"But _is_ she?\" queried Christina, swinging round from the piano, \"Is\nshe?\" And she looked wistfully at Herrick as he took her outstretched\nhand. \"Oh, if she's a very troublesome person, tell me at least she\nbrought the author luck! Was it any wonder, eh, that the pulse of your\nlife changed when you saw a shadow on the blind? Since at that very\nmoment my hand was on the door? Oh, I can perhaps rouse luck with the\nbest 'when I come knocking!'\"\nIt was Sunday evening, a month from that September Twentieth when, to a\npublic that perhaps had never given quite such a welcome, Christina Hope\nhad positively reappeared. This occasion was of a very homely gathering,\nan hour when Christina had simply confessed to the need of seeing all\nthe people of one episode \"alive together.\" She had spent the month in\nwatching Nancy grow strong, here, in her house, and to-morrow was the\nday of Nancy's wedding. \"Once I have packed off my daughter,\" Christina\nhad been saying, \"I shall marry myself out of hand--quite simply, by\njust stepping round the corner--to the patientest fellow living. The\npublic and I meet often enough--it shall not stick its head in at my\nmarriage!\"\nBut Herrick's sister was to arrive to-morrow and this seemed to have\nmade Christina restive. \"You know very well that you are marrying an\nactress. But there has been too much glare--to her you must be marrying,\nas some play says, 'The Queen of the Gipsies!' Ah, but Bryce--it's easy\nenough to be fond of me, now! After all, I behaved admirably, like a\ngood girl. I was as grand as Evadne and as energetic as Sal! I had a\nvery hard time and, really, I was quite a heroine. But my hard times are\ndone and God send I may never be a heroine again! Well, what price the\nQueen of the Gipsies, dear, as a nice young lady? And through what rent\nin my admirable behavior will next--to try your patience--the real\nChristina Hope too positively reappear? I wonder!\" Thus she spoke, a\nlittle sadly. And, then, at the ringing of the door-bell called out for\nher mother and Mrs. Deutch. \"For heaven forbid,\" added Christina, \"that\never I should be seen without a chaperone!\"\nIt was the simplest of supper-parties, at a table that jumbled Joe\nPatrick with the District-Attorney; but the great kindness of good-will\nstill showed, inevitably, against a somber background. Before that\ncompany there continued to rise in vivid silences, sharp as though edged\nwith acid, a wild space of death and hiding, of prison and darkness,\nwhen suddenly Christina's perverse lip twitched with a small, soft\nlaugh. \"And to think that, all the time, we were just as respectable as\nwe could be!\"\n\"I don't know how respectable you can be,\" said Denny. \"I think I could\ndo better.\"\n\"_I_ think it's a pretty good thing for you,\" said Wheeler, \"that she is\nas she is. You appear to have what I don't mind calling--in a lean,\nblack party of no particular stature--an almost inexplicable charm for\nthe ladies!\"\n\"In that case,\" said Christina, \"you can see what a waste it is for him\nto play villains. Give him to me for the hero of Bryce's play, when I\nstar next year.\"\n\"Thank you for waiting a year. You must have arranged your production\nwith Ten Euyck so quickly that it makes a manager's hair raise!\"\n\"As fast as I could learn my lines!\" Christina cried. \"But sometimes he\ndid throw me out. Ah, if I could only have spoken his speeches too!\"\n\"Many stars in your profession have made that complaint! But I forgive\nyou everything, Christina, since you notified me for an advance sale!\"\n\"She broke her word to me,\" said Kane, \"to do that! I was so anxious not\na breath should get out--it might have ruined everything. I caught her\nsecond message--to you, Herrick--and stopped it.\"\nHerrick asked, \"Will it always be the first which goes to Wheeler?\"\nShe responded with surprised earnestness, \"Why, but, dearest, that was\n_business_!\"\nHe laughed; and there was no bitterness in his laugh. He was glad of her\nquick, earnest interest. A month and three days had softened the tragic\nbrooding of Christina's face and drawn them all far from pain and fear,\ndeep waters and dark night. But this first attempt to mention that time\nwith any ease showed him how they all still winced at scars; even this\nripple of mirth, glowing and vibrating like the air of all that house\nwith love and joy, had glowed and vibrated too sharply. He wanted some\nhappening that should clear the air, and he did not know what. Work was\nthe safest thing he knew. And even his work, now they had begun, was a\ngood thing to talk of.\n\"How about that realistic tone?\" Wheeler was asking. \"Our experience\ndoesn't leave much of Herrick's idea about the commonplaceness of\ncrime--\"\n\"Oh, yes, it does!\" Christina interrupted. \"They were commonplace\nenough, to themselves. It was only where we rushed in that it turned\ninto melodrama. That's the way with amateurs! They have to,\" she flung\nat Denny, \"be more like Dago organ-grinders than any Dago organ-grinder\never was!\"\n\"I thank you,\" returned that unabashed young man. \"It was quite\nrealistic enough for me. If all my foreign traitors had done as well by\nme as this one!\" His eyes sought Nancy's. For an instant neither of them\ncould speak. But the girl could not resist putting out her hand. And no\none minded when he took it. \"But I thanked the gods,\" he could then say\nwith a laugh, \"for my Italian accent! I knew two or three phrases from\nthe Garibaldi play--and then I knew the sound and some of the sense\nfrom--Chris's farm. But I could have wished, none the less, to be better\nequipped.\"\n\"Rotten to have to make out so much funk!\" contributed Stanley. \"So's to\nseem like that scared-to-death fellow.\"\n\"On the whole, that was the best thing I did. It came quite easy!\"\n\"But the choice?\" inquired Mrs. Deutch. \"How did you make that choice,\ndear sir, amidst the goblets?\"\n\"Only luck--I just chanced it. Gold, silver, and lead--can't you guess?\"\nHe looked at Christina, and Christina blushed. Deutch glanced up\ntwinkling.\n\"Ah, tante,\" said the girl, \"you will never understand--you have not the\nartistic temperament! 'What find I here? Fair Portia's counterfeit!'\nThat was it, Will? Ah, my dear, and to think you've never played the\nscene!\"\nHer pensiveness turned sterner. She looked at him with reproving eyes.\n\"You took it out of a part!\" she said. \"Heaven help us, of what are we\nmade? That shot I fired--that last shot--I took that out of a part, too!\n'A Princess Imprisoned,' the end of the third act. And you with your\n'Merchant of Venice' and your casket scene! It's true what they say of\nus--we're stuffed with sawdust!\"\n\"We'd be fools not to use it, then,\" Denny comfortably retorted. \"Though\nyou might certainly have chosen a better play.\"\n\"No, you don't understand me. It's too bad, it's wrong--all wrong! It\ncheapens life. It dulls the value of what we feel. To think of written\nthings at such a moment and throw oneself on them--it's like an\ninsincerity of the heart. It's like acting a lie. And with all my\nfaults, that one fault I never had,\" Christina said. \"I was never a\nliar!\" And she turned on them the ineffable starry candor of her wide,\ncool eyes.\nA smile traversed the board. Christina looked puzzled.\n\"Never mind, old girl,\" Wheeler came to her assistance. \"Some lies are\nmade in heaven. How about your pretending, at the inquest, not to know\nwho Nancy was?\"\n\"Ah, that card of Nancy's! There, surely, was a dreadful moment! It was\na shock. I didn't know what to say. Why, it was like seeing that\nhorrible story fastened round her neck--it was like seeing Will pointed\nout! Oh, and I'd tried to keep away even the thought of them!\"\n\"I don't wonder that knocked you out all right. But, Miss Christina,\"\npondered Deutch, \"before that--a thing starts the trouble for you at\nthat inquest always gives me a puzzle. Miss Christina, why did you\nholler when you saw the scarf? That wasn't a surprise, anyhow. You knew\nhe had it!\"\n\"Yes,\" said Christina, \"but it was _such_ a thrilling point! I'd worked\nso much further up into an accused murderess than I'd ever gone before,\nand I did so long to know how it would feel--\"\nAn aghast laugh silenced her. It rang about the room, it swept with gay\nand topsy-turvy cleansing through every heart and blew the cobwebs far\naway. The air was cleared for good and all. No more shudders skulked in\nemotional underbrush. Christina Hope had quite too positively\nreappeared.\n\"Christina, you she-devil!\" Denny cried. But he bent his black head with\nthe words and kissed her hand. There were tears that were like worship\nin the teasing, jeering smile that lit his eyes.\nChristina caught his hand and stood up, flushing. Her eyes traveled\nround the table and came back to Herrick's face. He had never seen her\nthus bathed in rosy color before she sobered again to that meek gravity,\nlike a good child's.\n\"Very well, then, very well--there I am! Well, take me as I am! I\nwill--myself! I will say, let's get down to it, then: the dearest or\nmost terrible experience I ever had is none too terrible or too dear for\nBryce's play! Is yours, Will? Is your own, Bryce? Ah, and then, we\nzealous ones, when we want to know the hardest, hardest, passive part,\nthe loneliest suffering, the simplest courage, the deepest depths, we\nneedn't experiment, we can humbly inquire--we can ask Nancy Cornish!\"\nTHE END", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  \"Persons Unknown\"\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1926, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed\n    [Illustration: U.S. DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR \u00b7 March 3, 1849]\n                    UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR\n                         NATIONAL PARK SERVICE\n                _HISTORICAL HANDBOOK NUMBER THIRTY-ONE_\nThis publication is one of a series of handbooks describing the\nhistorical and archeological areas in the National Park System\nadministered by the National Park Service of the United States\nDepartment of the Interior. It is printed by the Government Printing\nOffice and may be purchased from the Superintendent of Documents.\nWashington. D.C. 20402.\n                    National Battlefield \u00b7 Maryland\n    [Illustration: Revolver]\n            NATIONAL PARK SERVICE HISTORICAL HANDBOOK SERIES NO. 31\n                  Reprint with minor corrections 1980\n_The National Park System, of which Antietam National Battlefield Site\nis a unit, is dedicated to conserving the scenic, scientific, and\nhistoric heritage of the United States for the benefit and inspiration\nof its people._\n    [Illustration: NATIONAL PARK SERVICE \u00b7 DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR]\n  FIGHTING FOR TIME AT SOUTH MOUNTAIN                                  10\n  LEE TAKES A STAND ON SHARPSBURG RIDGE                                14\n  McCLELLAN CONCENTRATES AT THE ANTIETAM                               16\n  THE WAR FOR THE UNION TAKES ON A NEW PURPOSE                         47\n  ANTIETAM NATIONAL BATTLEFIELD AND CEMETERY                           50\n    [Illustration: _Focal point of the early morning attacks, the Dunker\n    Church and some who defended it._ From photograph attributed to\n    James Gardner. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: Cannon and crew.]\n_In Western Maryland is a stream called Antietam Creek. Nearby is the\nquiet town of Sharpsburg. The scene is pastoral, with rolling hills and\nfarmlands and patches of woods. Stone monuments and bronze tablets dot\nthe landscape. They seem strangely out of place. Only some extraordinary\nevent can explain their presence._\n_Almost by chance, two great armies collided here. Gen. Robert E. Lee\u2019s\nArmy of Northern Virginia was invading the North. Maj. Gen. George B.\nMcClellan\u2019s Army of the Potomac was out to stop him. On September 17,\n1862\u2014the bloodiest day of the Civil War\u2014the two armies fought the Battle\nof Antietam to decide the issue._\n_Their violent conflict shattered the quiet of Maryland\u2019s countryside.\nWhen the hot September sun finally set upon the devastated battlefield,\n23,000 Americans had fallen\u2014nearly eight times more than fell on\nTarawa\u2019s beaches in World War II. This single fact, with the heroism and\nsuffering it implies, gives the monuments and markers their meaning. No\nlonger do they presume upon the land. Rather, their mute inadequacy can\nonly hint of the great event that happened here\u2014and of its even greater\nconsequences._\nOn September 4-7, 1862, a ragged host of nearly 55,000 men in butternut\nand gray splashed across the Potomac River at White\u2019s Ford near\nLeesburg, Va. This was Gen. Robert E. Lee\u2019s Army of Northern Virginia\nembarked on the Confederacy\u2019s first invasion of the North. Though\nthousands of Lee\u2019s men were shoeless, though they lacked ammunition and\nsupplies, though they were fatigued from the marching and fighting just\nbefore the historic crossing into Maryland, they felt invincible.\nOnly a week before, August 28-30, they had routed the Federals at the\nBattle of Second Manassas, driving them headlong into the defenses of\nWashington. With this event, the strategic initiative so long held by\nUnion forces in the East had shifted to the Confederacy. But Lee\nrecognized that Union power was almost limitless. It must be kept off\nbalance\u2014prevented from reorganizing for another drive on Richmond, the\nConfederate capital. Only a sharp offensive thrust by Southern arms\nwould do this.\nBecause his army lacked the strength to assault Washington, General Lee\nhad decided on September 3 to invade Maryland. North of the Potomac his\narmy would be a constant threat to Washington. This would keep Federal\nforces out of Virginia, allowing that ravaged land to recuperate from\nthe campaigning that had stripped it. It would give Maryland\u2019s people,\nmany of whom sympathized with the South, a chance to throw off the\nNorthern yoke.\nFrom Maryland, Lee could march into Pennsylvania, disrupting the\neast-west rail communications of the North, carrying the brunt of war\ninto that rich land, drawing on its wealth to refit his army.\n    [Illustration: _Lee\u2019s army crossing the Potomac; Union scouts in\n    foreground._ From wartime sketch by A. R. Waud. Courtesy, Library of\n    Congress.]\n    [Illustration: LEE INVADES MARYLAND]\nLarger political possibilities loomed, too. The North was war weary. If,\nin the heartland of the Union, Lee could inflict a serious defeat on\nNorthern arms, the Confederacy might hope for more than military\ndividends\u2014the result might be a negotiated peace on the basis of\nSouthern independence. Too, a successful campaign might induce England\nand France to recognize the Confederacy and to intervene for the purpose\nof mediating the conflict.\nSo it was that the hopes of the South rode with this Army of Northern\nVirginia as it marched into Frederick, Md., on September 7.\nOn that same September 7, another army assembled at Rockville, Md., just\nnorthwest of Washington. Soon to be nearly 90,000 strong, this was Maj.\nGen. George B. McClellan\u2019s Army of the Potomac. Its goal: To stay\nbetween Lee\u2019s army and Washington, to seek out the Confederate force,\nand, as President Abraham Lincoln hoped, to destroy it.\nHastily thrown together to meet the challenge of Lee\u2019s invasion, this\nUnion army was a conglomerate of all the forces in the Washington\nvicinity. Some of its men were fresh from the recruiting depots\u2014they\nlacked training and were deficient in arms. Others had just returned\nfrom the Peninsular Campaign where Lee\u2019s army had driven them from the\ngates of Richmond in the Seven Days\u2019 Battles, June 26-July 2. Still\nothers were the remnants of the force so decisively beaten at Second\nManassas.\n    [Illustration: _Gen. Robert E. Lee._ From photograph by Julian\n    Vannerson. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan._ From photograph by\n    Matthew B. Brady or assistant. Courtesy, National Archives.]\nIn McClellan the Union army had a commander who was skilled at\norganization. This was the reason President Lincoln and Commander in\nChief of the Army Henry Halleck had chosen him for command on September\n3. In 4 days he had pulled together this new army and had gotten it on\nthe march. It was a remarkable achievement.\nBut in other respects, McClellan was the object of doubt. He was\ncautious. He seemed to lack that capacity for full and violent\ncommitment essential to victory. Against Lee, whose blood roused at the\nsound of the guns, McClellan\u2019s methodical nature had once before proved\nwanting\u2014during the Seven Days\u2019 Battles. At least so thought President\nLincoln.\nBut this time McClellan had started well. Could he now catch Lee\u2019s army\nand destroy it, bringing the end of the war in sight? Or, failing that,\ncould he at least gain a favorable decision? A victory in the field\nwould give the President a chance to issue the Emancipation\nProclamation, which he had been holding since midsummer. The\nproclamation would declare free the slaves in the Confederate States. By\nthis means, Lincoln hoped to infuse the Northern cause with regenerative\nmoral power. Spirits were lagging in the North. Unless a moral purpose\ncould be added to the North\u2019s primary war aim of restoring the Union,\nLincoln questioned whether the will to fight could be maintained in the\nface of growing casualty lists.\nAnd so, followed by mingled doubt and hope, McClellan started in pursuit\nof the Confederate army. McClellan himself was aware of these mingled\nfeelings. He knew that Lincoln and Halleck had come to him as a last\nresort in a time of emergency. He knew they doubted his energy and\nability as a combat commander. Even his orders were unclear, for they\ndid not explicitly give him authority to pursue the enemy beyond the\ndefenses of Washington.\nBurdened with knowledge of this lack of faith, wary of taking risks\nbecause of his ambiguous orders, McClellan marched toward his encounter\nwith the victorious and confident Lee.\nMaryland was a disappointment to Lee. On September 8, he had issued a\ndignified proclamation inviting the men of that State to join his\ncommand and help restore Maryland to her rightful place among the\nSouthern States. His words concluded with assurance that the Marylanders\ncould make their choice with no fear of intimidation from the victorious\nConfederate army in their midst.\n    [Illustration: _First Virginia Cavalry at a halt during invasion of\n    Maryland._ From wartime sketch by Waud. Courtesy, Library of\n    Congress.]\nMaryland took him at his word. Her people did not flock to the\nConfederate standard, nor were they much help in provisioning his army.\nNo doubt Lee\u2019s barefooted soldiers were a portent to these people, who\nhad previously seen only well-fed, well-equipped Federal troops.\nDeprived of expected aid, Lee had to move onward to Pennsylvania\nquickly. For one thing, unless he could get shoes for his men, his army\nmight melt away. Straggling was already a serious problem, for\nMaryland\u2019s hard roads tortured bare feet toughened only to the dirt\nlanes of Virginia.\nBy now, Lee\u2019s scouts were bringing reports of the great Federal army\nslowly pushing out from Rockville toward Frederick.\nLee\u2019s proposed route into Pennsylvania was dictated by geography. West\nof Frederick\u2014beyond South Mountain\u2014is the Cumberland Valley. This is the\nnorthern half of the Great Valley that sweeps northeastward through\nVirginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania. That part of the Great Valley\nimmediately south of the Potomac is called the Shenandoah Valley.\nLee planned to concentrate his army west of the mountains near\nHagerstown, Md. There he would be in direct line with his supply base at\nWinchester in the Shenandoah Valley. After replenishing his supplies and\nammunition, he could strike northeast through the Cumberland Valley\ntoward Harrisburg, Pa., where he could destroy the Pennsylvania Railroad\nbridge across the Susquehanna River. Once loose in the middle of\nPennsylvania he could live off the country and threaten Philadelphia,\nBaltimore, and Washington.\nBefore launching this daring maneuver, Lee must first clear his line of\ncommunications through the Shenandoah Valley to Winchester and to\nRichmond. Blocking it were strong Federal garrisons at Harpers Ferry and\nMartinsburg. Unaccountably, they had remained at their posts after the\nConfederate army crossed the Potomac. Now they must be cleared out.\nLee decided to accomplish this mission by boldly dividing his army into\nfour parts. On September 9, he issued Special Order 191. Briefly, it\ndirected Maj. Gen. James Longstreet and Maj. Gen. D. H. Hill to proceed\nacross South Mountain toward Boonsboro and Hagerstown. Three columns\ncooperating under Maj. Gen. Thomas J. \u201cStonewall\u201d Jackson were ordered\nto converge on Harpers Ferry from the northwest, northeast, and east. En\nroute, the column under Jackson\u2019s immediate command was to swing\nwestward and catch any Federals remaining at Martinsburg. Maj. Gen.\nLafayette McLaws, approaching from the northeast, was to occupy Maryland\nHeights, which overlooks Harpers Ferry from the north side of the\nPotomac. Brig. Gen. John Walker, approaching from the east, was to\noccupy Loudoun Heights, across the Shenandoah River from Harpers Ferry.\nMaj. Gen. J. E. B. Stuart\u2019s cavalry was to screen these movements from\nMcClellan by remaining east of South Mountain.\n    [Illustration: LEE\u2019S SPECIAL ORDER]\n(At this point a fateful event occurred\u2014one which was destined to change\nthe subsequent course of the campaign. D. H. Hill, Jackson\u2019s\nbrother-in-law, had until this time been under Jackson\u2019s command.\nUnaware that a copy of Lee\u2019s order had already been sent to Hill,\nJackson now prepared an extra copy for that officer. Hill kept the copy\nfrom Jackson; the other was to provide the script for much of the drama\nthat followed.)\nLee was courting danger by thus dividing his force in the face of\nMcClellan\u2019s advancing army. Against a driving opponent, Lee probably\nwould not have done it. But he felt certain that McClellan\u2019s caution\nwould give Jackson the margin of time needed to capture Harpers Ferry\nand reunite with Longstreet before the Federal army could come within\nstriking distance. That margin was calculated at 3 or 4 days. By\nSeptember 12, Jackson\u2019s force should be marching north toward\nHagerstown. As soon as the army reconcentrated there, Lee could begin\nhis dash up the Cumberland Valley into Pennsylvania.\nSo confident was Lee of the marching capacities of the Harpers Ferry\ncolumns, and so certain was he that McClellan would approach slowly,\nthat he made no provision for guarding the gaps through South Mountain.\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. James Longstreet._ Courtesy, Library of\n    Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. Thomas J. \u201cStonewall\u201d Jackson._ From\n    photograph by George W. Minnes. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\nLee\u2019s army departed Frederick on September 10. Two days later leading\nelements of McClellan\u2019s army entered that city. On September 13, came\nMcClellan himself with his usual cavalcade of staff officers.\nThat same afternoon a copy of Lee\u2019s Special Order 191 was discovered in\nthe encampment grounds previously used by the Confederate army. Quickly\nit was passed to McClellan. The handwriting was recognized as that of\nCol. R. H. Chilton, Lee\u2019s assistant adjutant general; the document\u2019s\nauthenticity could not be doubted.\nThe fate of Lee\u2019s army literally lay in McClellan\u2019s hands. If he slashed\nswiftly through the South Mountain gaps and planted his army squarely\nbetween Longstreet\u2019s force near Hagerstown and Jackson\u2019s columns at\nHarpers Ferry, he could overwhelm the Confederate detachments in turn.\nBut again McClellan was methodical. Not until the next morning,\nSeptember 14, did his heavy columns get underway. This crucial delay was\nto give Lee the chance to pull his army together at the small town of\nSharpsburg.\n                 _Fighting for Time at South Mountain_\nBy September 12, Lee had begun to worry. Stuart\u2019s scouts had reported\nthe Federal approach to Frederick. McClellan was moving too fast. Next\nevening things looked worse. Jackson had not yet captured Harpers Ferry,\nand already McClellan\u2019s forward troops were pushing Stuart back toward\nthe South Mountain gaps. Delay at Harpers Ferry made these passes\nthrough South Mountain the key to the situation. They must be defended.\n    [Illustration: _The Battle of South Mountain._ From lithograph by\n    Endicott. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\nSouth Mountain is the watershed between the Middletown and Cumberland\nValleys. The Frederick-Hagerstown road leads through Middletown, then\ngoes over South Mountain at Turner\u2019s Gap. At the eastern base of the\nmountain, the old road to Sharpsburg turned south from the main road and\npassed through Fox\u2019s Gap, a mile south of Turner\u2019s Gap. Four miles\nfarther south is Crampton\u2019s Gap, reached by another road from\nMiddletown.\nOn the night of September 13, Lee ordered all available forces to defend\nthese three passes. D. H. Hill, with Longstreet coming to his aid,\ncovered Turner\u2019s and Fox\u2019s Gaps. McLaws sent part of his force back from\nMaryland Heights to hold Crampton\u2019s Gap.\nNext morning the thin-stretched Confederate defenders saw McClellan\u2019s\npowerful columns marching across Middletown Valley. Up the roads to the\ngaps they came\u2014ponderous and inexorable. The right wing of McClellan\u2019s\narmy under Maj. Gen. Ambrose Burnside assaulted Turner\u2019s and Fox\u2019s Gaps.\nThe left wing under Maj. Gen. William Franklin struck through Crampton\u2019s\nGap. By nightfall, September 14, the superior Federal forces had broken\nthrough at Crampton\u2019s Gap; and Burnside\u2019s men were close to victory at\nthe northern passes. The way to the valley was open.\nBy his stubborn defense at South Mountain, Lee had gained a day. But was\nit enough? McClellan\u2019s speed and shrewd pursuit, together with Jackson\u2019s\ninability to meet the demanding schedule set forth in Special Order 191,\nhad fallen upon Lee with all the weight of a strategic surprise. No\nlonger could he command events, pick his own objectives, and make the\nFederal army conform to his moves. Rather, the decision at South\nMountain had snatched the initiative away from Lee. His plan for an\noffensive foray into Pennsylvania was wrecked. Now it was a question of\nsaving his army.\n    [Illustration: _Harpers Ferry looking east toward confluence of\n    Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers. Ruins of armory in right foreground.\n    Maryland Heights, left; Loudoun Heights, right._ From 1862\n    photograph by Brady. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\nThe first step was to call off the attack on Harpers Ferry. At 8 p.m.,\nSeptember 14, Lee sent a dispatch to McLaws stating,\n    [Illustration: ATTACK ON HARPERS FERRY]\n  \u201cThe day has gone against us and this army will go by Sharpsburg and\n  cross the river. It is necessary for you to abandon your position\n  tonight.... Send forward officers to explore the way, ascertain the\n  best crossing of the Potomac, and if you can find any between you and\n  Shepherdstown leave Shepherdstown Ford for this command.\u201d Jackson was\n  ordered \u201c... to take position at Shepherdstown to cover Lee\u2019s crossing\n  into Virginia.\u201d\nBut then came a message from Jackson: Harpers Ferry was about to fall.\nPerhaps there was still hope. If Jackson could capture Harpers Ferry\nearly the next day, the army could reunite at Sharpsburg. Good defensive\nground was there; a victory over McClellan might enable Lee to continue\nhis campaign of maneuver; and should disaster threaten, the fords of the\nPotomac were nearby.\nAt 11:15 p.m., Lee countermanded his earlier order; the attack on\nHarpers Ferry was to proceed. Shortly after, Longstreet\u2019s divisions\nbegan to march through the night toward Sharpsburg.\n                       _Harpers Ferry Surrenders_\nThe village of Harpers Ferry lies at the gateway cut through the\nmountains by the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers, whose waters join there.\nSituated at the apex of the triangle of land between the rivers, the\ntown is completely dominated by Loudoun and Maryland Heights. By\nnightfall of September 14, McLaws and Walker had artillery on these\nheights ready for plunging fire into the town; Jackson had stretched his\nlines across the base of the triangle between the rivers.\nCaught in this trap were nearly 12,000 Federal troops commanded by Col.\nD. S. Miles. Their position was indefensible.\nAt daybreak on September 15, the surrounding Confederate artillery\nopened fire. At 8 a.m., the hopelessness of his position confirmed,\nMiles ordered the surrender; he was killed in the last moments of the\nbattle.\nJackson immediately sent word of his victory to Lee. Then, after\nassigning Maj. Gen. A. P. Hill\u2019s division to dispose of prisoners and\nbooty, he prepared the rest of his troops for the hard march ahead.\nThe same dawn that signaled Jackson\u2019s guns to open fire on Harpers Ferry\nrevealed Longstreet\u2019s tired soldiers taking position on the rolling\nhills around Sharpsburg. As he watched them, Lee still did not know\nwhether to fight or to withdraw across the Potomac. Decision waited upon\nword from Jackson. The word came; it was good; the crisis was past. Even\nnow Lee\u2019s messenger hurried to direct Jackson\u2019s veterans toward\nSharpsburg. Confident that the entire army would soon be at hand,\ncertain that he could whip McClellan, Lee decided to fight.\n    [Illustration: _Sharpsburg shortly after the Battle of Antietam.\n    Taken from crest of Sharpsburg Ridge, looking west down Boonsboro\n    Pike toward Potomac River. Hagerstown Pike heads north (right) just\n    beyond large tree in left-center. Lee\u2019s headquarters were in Oak\n    Grove in distance, just to right of Boonsboro Pike._]\n                _Lee Takes a Stand on Sharpsburg Ridge_\nLee\u2019s decision to make his stand on the low ridge extending north and\nsouth of Sharpsburg might well have led to disaster for the Confederate\narmy. A large part of his force was still scattered and several miles\naway. Backed against the coils of the Potomac River, with only the ford\nnear Shepherdstown offering an avenue of withdrawal, a reversal in\nbattle could result in rout and consequent loss of thousands of men and\nscores of guns. Longstreet voiced disapproval of battle at Sharpsburg.\nJackson, hurriedly examining the ground on his arrival from Harpers\nFerry, strongly favored Lee\u2019s choice.\nThe village of Sharpsburg lies in a small valley at the western base of\nSharpsburg Ridge. From the village, the Boonsboro Pike leads east across\nthe ridge, then across Antietam Creek. The Hagerstown Pike extends\nnorthward on the crest of the ridge.\nFrom the Hagerstown Pike, gently rolling farmland spreads a mile\neastward to Antietam Creek and the same distance westward to the winding\nPotomac River. A mile north of Sharpsburg was a heavy patch of trees\nknown as West Woods; it was about 300 yards wide at its southern limits,\ntapering to 200 yards or less as it stretched away northwest from the\npike. Half a mile east of Hagerstown Pike was another patch of trees\ncalled East Woods; it was 200 yards wide and extended a quarter mile\nsouth across the Smoketown Road. North Woods, a triangular plot of\ntrees, stretched east from the Hagerstown Pike over the Poffenberger\nfarm. Half a mile to the west looms Nicodemus Hill, a prominent landmark\nnear the Potomac. Artillery on its heights would command the open ground\nlying between the patches of woodland. In this open area east of the\nHagerstown Pike lay a 40-acre cornfield. West of the pike were\noutcroppings of rock running nearly parallel to the road\u2014ready-made\nfortifications. Adjacent to the Hagerstown Pike, on a slight rise near\nthe lower end of West Woods, stood a Dunker Church, a small white\nbuilding framed by massive oaks. Southeast of Sharpsburg, rolling land\nbroken by deep ravines extends a mile beyond to a sharp bend in Antietam\nCreek.\nCrossings of swiftly flowing Antietam Creek were readily available. The\nroad extending northwest from Keedysville went over the stream at the\nUpper Bridge, the road to Sharpsburg from Boonsboro over the Middle\nBridge, and the road to Sharpsburg from Pleasant Valley over the Lower\nBridge. The stream could be crossed, also, at Pry\u2019s Mill Ford, a half\nmile south of the Upper Bridge, at Snavely\u2019s Ford, nearly a mile south\nof the Lower Bridge, and at other unnamed fording places.\nWith its advantages of woodland and outcroppings of rock ledges, Lee\nbelieved that the ridge north of Sharpsburg offered a strong battle\nposition. Though he had ample time to construct earthworks, the\nConfederate commander chose to rely wholly on natural defenses.\nAs Lee\u2019s men approached from Boonsboro during the morning hours of\nSeptember 15, they turned left and right off the pike to form their\nlines on Sharpsburg Ridge. Brig. Gen. John Hood, with only two brigades,\nheld the ground at the fringe of the West Woods\u2014from the Dunker Church\nnorthwest to Nicodemus Hill near the Potomac. Here, Stuart\u2019s cavalry\nprotected the left end or flank of the line. From Hood\u2019s position\nsouthward to Sharpsburg, D. H. Hill placed his five brigades east of and\nparalleling the Hagerstown Pike. Brig. Gen. Nathan Evan\u2019s brigade\noccupied the center of the line in front of Sharpsburg; his men\nstraddled the Boonsboro Pike. The six brigades of Maj. Gen. D. R. Jones\nextended the Confederate front southeast nearly a mile to the Lower\nBridge over Antietam Creek. The fords over the Antietam at the extreme\nright of the line were guarded by Col. Thomas Munford\u2019s cavalry brigade.\nArtillery was placed at vantage points on the ridges.\nThroughout the 15th, Lee presented a show of strength with 14 brigades\nof infantry and 3 of cavalry\u2014about 18,000 men.\n    [Illustration: _Army supply train crosses Middle Bridge over\n    Antietam Creek. After ascent of ridge in background, Boonsboro Pike\n    dips into a ravine, then ascends Sharpsburg Ridge and enters the\n    village._ Courtesy, National Archives.]\n                _McClellan Concentrates at the Antietam_\nAgainst this pretense of power, General McClellan marched cautiously on\nthe forenoon of the 15th, over good roads and in fine weather. By noon,\nhe arrived at the Confederate front with a force of nearly 75,000 men.\nMcClellan hesitated, and the day wore away.\nAs the early morning fog of the 16th cleared, Lee\u2019s artillerists caught\nsight of Federal guns on the high bank beyond Antietam Creek. The\nthunder of a prolonged duel between Lee\u2019s guns and Brig. Gen. Henry\nHunt\u2019s powerful Federal batteries soon rolled through the hills. There\nwas no question in McClellan\u2019s mind now that Lee intended to hold\nSharpsburg Ridge.\nIn midafternoon of the 16th, McClellan prepared for battle. Maj. Gen.\nJoseph Hooker\u2019s I Corps was instructed to take position opposite the\nConfederate left on the Hagerstown Pike. Maj. Gen. Joseph Mansfield\u2019s\nXII Corps and Maj. Gen. Edwin Sumner\u2019s II Corps were to extend the\nbattleline from Hooker\u2019s left to the Smoketown Road and on to Antietam\nCreek near Pry\u2019s Mill Ford. The V Corps, Maj. Gen. Fitz-John Porter\ncommanding, was directed to occupy the center of the Federal line on the\nBoonsboro Pike. Burnside was to place his IX Corps just east of the\nLower Bridge over Antietam Creek. Maj. Gen. William Franklin\u2019s VI Corps\nwas to support the entire front. In the center, on the high east bank of\nAntietam Creek, and south of the Boonsboro Pike, General Hunt placed\nfour batteries of 20-pounder Parrott rifles, the most powerful cannon on\nthe field.\nMcClellan\u2019s plan called for an initial attack on the Confederate left\nflank on the Hagerstown Pike with the two corps of Hooker and Mansfield.\nMcClellan intended to support this mass charge with Sumner\u2019s entire\nforce and, if necessary, with Franklin\u2019s corps. If the powerful thrust\nagainst the Confederate left should succeed, McClellan would send\nBurnside\u2019s corps across Antietam Creek at the Lower Bridge and strike\nthe Confederate right flank on the ridge southeast of Sharpsburg. Should\nBurnside succeed in turning the southern end of Lee\u2019s line, he would be\nexpected to carry the attack northwest toward Sharpsburg. Finally, if\neither of these flanking movements appeared successful, McClellan would\ndrive up the Boonsboro Pike with all available forces to smash the\nConfederate center.\n    [Illustration: _Meadow just beyond trees bordering Antietam Creek\n    marks top of bluffs where many of Hunt\u2019s Union batteries were\n    placed. This view from one-half mile in front of Confederate gun\n    emplacements on Sharpsburg Ridge._]\nIt was a good plan. If the Federal attacks could be delivered in\nconcert, McClellan\u2019s preponderance of power must stretch Lee\u2019s smaller\nforce to the breaking point. But the story of Antietam is one of\npiecemeal Federal attacks\u2014a corps here, a division there. This failure\nin execution allowed Lee to shift troops from momentarily quiet sectors\nto plug the gaps torn by the succession of Federal attacks. As each\nthreat developed, Lee rushed his troops there and beat it back. Taking\nadvantage of his interior lines, he repeatedly achieved a local\nadvantage of numbers, though larger Federal contingents were always\nnearby.\n    [Illustration: _Brig. Gen. W. N. Pendleton, Lee\u2019s chief of\n    artillery._ From Miller\u2019s Photographic History of the Civil War.]\n    [Illustration: _Brig. Gen. Henry Hunt, McClellan\u2019s chief of\n    artillery._]\n                   _The Lines Are Poised for Action_\nAt 2 p.m. on the 16th, Hooker marched from his camp near Keedysville,\ncrossed the Upper Bridge, and late in the afternoon reached the\nHagerstown Pike. Under cover of the North Woods, his divisions formed\nfor the attack on both sides of the pike. A massed force of more than\n12,000 men was ready to advance on the Confederates.\n    [Illustration: _Union artillery in battery line._ From 1863\n    photograph. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\nLee\u2019s thin line, 3 miles long, had been reinforced early on the 16th by\nthe arrival of Jackson\u2019s troops from Harpers Ferry. They were placed\nwhere they could support the northern part of the Confederate line. John\nWalker\u2019s division, arriving from Harpers Ferry in the afternoon, took\nposition south of Sharpsburg.\nJackson now commanded the Confederate front north of Sharpsburg;\nLongstreet, with a part of his force north of the village, extended the\nline nearly a mile south.\nWhen Lee\u2019s outposts near Antietam Creek informed him in midafternoon\nthat Hooker\u2019s Federals were massing north of Sharpsburg, Lee moved some\nof his men to advance positions. Hood established a line east of the\nHagerstown Pike, with part of his troops in a cornfield and others\nextending the front to the East Woods. Skirmishers spread out far in\nfront. Additional troops were rushed from reserve near Lee\u2019s\nheadquarters at the Oak Grove west of Sharpsburg; they extended the line\nwest across the Hagerstown Pike.\nIt was dusk by the time Hooker\u2019s force was ready to charge. With Maj.\nGen. George Meade\u2019s men leading the way, they struck Hood\u2019s Confederates\nat the edge of the East Woods and in the adjacent fields. A brisk\nartillery fire from opposing batteries forced the men to seek cover. The\ngathering darkness made it difficult for the forces on either side to\nlocate their marks. Gradually the opening skirmish at Antietam ended.\nThe thrust of the Federal skirmishers, however, made it clear to Lee\njust where the next Federal blow would fall.\n    [Illustration: _Brig. Gen. John B. Hood._]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. Joseph Hooker._ From photograph by Brady\n    or assistant. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\nEven as Hooker\u2019s Federals withdrew to the cover of the North Woods,\nstrong forces were moving to their aid\u2014the two powerful corps under\nMansfield and Sumner. Mansfield would lead the XII Corps across Antietam\nCreek about midnight and encamp 1\u00bd miles northeast of Hooker. Sumner\u2019s\nII Corps would cross the Antietam at Pry\u2019s Mill Ford at 7:30 the next\nmorning to lend additional support.\nLee, too, was counting on reinforcements. McLaws\u2019 division was expected\nto arrive on the field by midmorning. A. P. Hill, who had been left at\nHarpers Ferry to handle details of the surrender, would arrive late in\nthe day.\nOn the evening of September 16, picket lines were so close that the men\non both sides, though unable to see each other, could hear footsteps.\nThey knew that a tremendous struggle would begin at dawn. Some tried to\nsleep, but scattered firing throughout the night made this difficult.\nOthers cleaned and cleaned again their rifled muskets, whose huge\nbullets made holes as big as silver dollars. Artillerists brought up\nammunition for their smooth-bore Napoleons\u2014so deadly at close range\u2014and\nfor the long-range rifled Parrott guns. And so these men got through the\nnight, each one facing the impending crisis in his own way.\n    [Illustration: _Union signal station on Elk Ridge. From here,\n    McClellan\u2019s observers spotted Confederate troop movements during the\n    battle._ Courtesy, National Archives.]\n                      _Hooker Strikes at Daybreak_\nA drizzling rain fell during the night. The morning of the 17th broke\ngray and misty, but the skies cleared early. As rays of light outlined\nthe fringe of trees about the Dunker Church, restless Federal\nskirmishers opened fire. A line of rifle fire flashed from the southern\nmuskets far out in front of the church. Soon, powerful Federal guns on\nthe bluffs beyond Antietam Creek poured a raking fire of shot and shell\ninto the Confederate lines. The first stage of McClellan\u2019s plan of\ncrushing Lee\u2014folding up the Confederate left flank\u2014was about to begin.\nHooker struck with tremendous force. With skirmishers still hotly\nengaged, 10 brigades moved out from the cover of the North Woods. Brig.\nGen. Abner Doubleday\u2019s men advanced along the Hagerstown Pike. Brig.\nGen. James Ricketts\u2019 force charged down the Smoketown road toward the\nDunker Church. Part of Meade\u2019s division in the center was held in\nreserve. Hooker\u2019s artillery, massed on the ridge near the Poffenberger\nhouse, raked the Confederate lines. Heads down and bent to the side,\nlike people breasting a hailstorm, the wave of Federals charged\nsouthward, spreading over the front from East Woods to the fringe of\nWest Woods.\nFrom left and from right, Confederate brigades poured into the fray to\nbuttress Jackson\u2019s line of battle. D. H. Hill sent three brigades from\nthe Sunken Road, dangerously weakening his own line\u2014but then, first\nthings first, and this is the story of the Confederate defense\nthroughout the day. Hood\u2019s two brigades stood in reserve in the woods\nadjoining the Dunker Church. Eight thousand Confederates awaited\nHooker\u2019s assault.\n    [Illustration: _East Woods on left; Miller cornfield, where Lawton\u2019s\n    men were hidden, on right. This view looking south, as Hooker\u2019s men\n    saw it at dawn._]\nWhile most of Jackson\u2019s men formed a line from east to west in front of\nthe Dunker Church, Brig. Gen. A. R. Lawton had sent a strong force into\nthe Miller cornfield, 300 yards in advance, concealed, he believed, from\nthe enemy.\n    [Illustration: _View from the south, as Jackson\u2019s men saw it.\n    Cornfield ahead; East Woods at right._]\nDoubleday\u2019s Federals came upon the cornfield. \u201cAs we appeared at the\nedge of the corn,\u201d related Maj. Rufus Dawes, \u201ca long line of men in\nbutternut and gray rose up from the ground. Simultaneously, the hostile\nbattle lines opened a tremendous fire upon each other. Men, I cannot say\nfell; they were knocked out of the ranks by dozens.\u201d Hooker, nearby, saw\nfarther in the field the reflection of sunlight from the enemy\u2019s\nbayonets projecting above the corn. Ordering all of his spare batteries\nto the left of this field, the Federal guns at close range raked the\ncornfield with canister and shell. \u201cIn the time I am writing,\u201d Hooker\nlater wrote, \u201cevery stalk of corn in the northern and greater part of\nthe field was cut as closely as could have been done with a knife, and\nthe slain lay in rows precisely as they had stood in their ranks a few\nmoments before. It was never my fortune to witness a more bloody, dismal\nbattlefield.\u201d\nThose Confederates who survived the slaughter in the cornfield now fled\nbefore the Federal onslaught. Heading for West Woods, they had to\nclamber over the picket-and-rail fence bordering the Hagerstown Pike;\nmany were shot in the attempt and lay spread-eagled across the fence or\npiled on either side.\nOne soldier recalled the hysterical excitement that now gripped the\nUnion troops: The only thought was victory. Without regard for safety,\nthey charged forward, loading, firing, and shouting as they advanced. In\ncontrast were the fallen\u2014as waves of blue-clad troops swept by, wounded\nmen looked up and cried for aid, but there was no time to stop.\n    [Illustration: _Cornfield Avenue, marking southern limit of \u201cbloody\n    cornfield.\u201d Federals charged from right; Confederates\n    counterattacked from left. From photograph taken on anniversary of\n    battle, showing corn as it stood when the fighting began._]\nWhile Doubleday\u2019s division charged through the cornfield, Rickett\u2019s men,\non the left of the attacking columns, pushed through the East Woods to\nits southern fringe. Capt. Dunbar Ransom\u2019s battery broke from the cover\nof the East Woods and fired shot and shell into the staggering\nConfederate lines.\nFor more than an hour, the battlefront flamed along an extended\nsemicircular line from the open fields of the Mumma farm northwest\nthrough the cornfield to the rocky ledges in West Woods. The fury of the\nFederal attack had carried Doubleday\u2019s and Ricketts\u2019 men deep into the\nConfederate line, and now Meade\u2019s reserve brigades rushed forward.\nIn this critical stage, Jackson launched a driving counterattack. Hood\u2019s\nmen, supported by D. H. Hill\u2019s brigades, battered the Federals back to\nthe cornfield but were halted by the pointblank fire of Union guns in\nEast Woods.\n                     _Mansfield Renews the Attack_\nAs the remnants of Hooker\u2019s command sought shelter under the cover of\npowerful Federal batteries in front of East Woods, a new threat faced\nthe Confederates. Mansfield\u2019s XII Corps, which had encamped more than a\nmile to the rear of Hooker during the night, had marched at the sound of\nHooker\u2019s opening guns. At 7:30 a.m., almost an hour and a half later,\nMansfield\u2019s force was approaching from the north in heavy columns.\nSeeing Hooker\u2019s plight, Mansfield now rushed to the forefront of his\nmen, urging them to the attack. But his work was cut short by a\nConfederate ball; mortally wounded, he was carried from the field.\nWithout pause, Brig. Gen. Alpheus Williams moved up to command and the\nattack swept on over ground just vacated by Hooker. On the right, Brig.\nGen. Samuel Crawford\u2019s division bore down the Hagerstown Pike toward the\nConfederates in West Woods. Attacking in separate units, however, their\nlines were shattered by Brig. Gen. J. R. Jones\u2019 men, fighting from the\ncover of projecting rocks. J. E. B. Stuart\u2019s artillery, from the hill a\nhalf mile to the west, rapidly dispersed the remnants.\nOn the left, the Federals fared better. They pounded Hood\u2019s men back\nacross the fields toward the Dunker Church and opened a great gap in the\nConfederate line. Into the hole plunged Brig. Gen. George S. Greene\u2019s\nUnion division. Only a desperate Confederate stand stopped Greene\u2019s men\nat the Dunker Church. There they remained, an isolated salient beyond\nsupport\u2014the Federal assault had shot its bolt.\nAttacking separately, the two corps of Hooker and Mansfield had each\ncome within a hair of breaking Jackson\u2019s line. What if they had attacked\ntogether? Again and again through this long day, the same\nquestion\u2014changing only the names\u2014would apply.\n    [Illustration: _Taken back of the picket-and-rail fence on the\n    Hagerstown Pike, where Jackson\u2019s men attempted to rally in the face\n    of Hooker\u2019s charge._ From photograph by Alexander Gardner. Courtesy,\n    National Archives.]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. Joseph Mansfield._ Courtesy, Library of\n    Congress.]\nIt may have been while observing this critical fight near the Dunker\nChurch, that General Lee saw a straggler heading back toward camp\nlugging a pig that he had killed. With disaster so close, and straggling\none of its chief causes, Lee momentarily lost control and ordered\nJackson to shoot the man as an example to the army. Instead, Jackson\ngave the culprit a musket and placed him where action was hottest for\nthe rest of the day. He came through unscathed and was afterward known\nas the man who had lost his pig but saved his bacon.\n    [Illustration: _Going into Action._ From etching by W. H. Shelton.\n    Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\n                      _Jackson Prepares an Ambush_\nBy 9 a.m., 3 hours of killing had passed. The Miller cornfield had\nbecome a no-mans\u2019 land, its tall stalks trampled to the ground and\nstrewn with blood-soaked corpses. Firing had been so intense, had so\nfouled the men\u2019s muskets, that some of them were using rocks to pound\ntheir ramrods home.\nFor a moment, the fighting ceased. Then powerful reserves were rushed\nforward by commanders of both armies to renew the battle.\nJackson was in extreme danger. Greene\u2019s Federals still lurked near the\nDunker Church, waiting only for support to renew their attack on the\nfrayed Confederate line. And at this very moment a mass of blue-clad\ninfantry could be seen emerging from the East Woods half a mile away\u2014it\nwas part of Sumner\u2019s II Corps moving up for the morning\u2019s third major\nFederal attack.\nSwiftly Jackson gathered together reinforcements from other sectors of\nthe battlefield. Some had just arrived from Harpers Ferry; these were\nMcLaws\u2019 men. With hardly a pause they moved north and disappeared into\nthe West Woods. Lee ordered Walker\u2019s two brigades north from the Lower\nBridge; they too disappeared into the West Woods. Thus they came, racing\nfrom far and near.\nAs soon as they came in, Jackson craftily placed these men behind the\nrocks and ridges at the western fringe of the woods. Soon they formed a\ngreat semicircle whose outer points perfectly encompassed the 5,000 men\nin Sumner\u2019s approaching column. Ten thousand Confederates were there.\nNow they disappeared into the landscape and waited.\n    [Illustration: _Knap\u2019s Independent Pennsylvania Battery \u201cE\u201d\n    supported Mansfield\u2019s corps._ Courtesy, National Archives.]\nSumner\u2019s II Corps, under orders to support the attack on the Confederate\nleft, had prepared at dawn to cross Antietam Creek at Pry\u2019s Mill Ford.\nImpatiently, Sumner had awaited the signal to march while the battle\nraged with increasing violence on the ridge beyond the stream. Finally,\nat 7:30 a.m., he led Maj. Gen. John Sedgwick\u2019s division across the ford.\nBrig. Gen. William French\u2019s division followed, but soon drifted to the\nsouth and lost contact with Sedgwick.\n    [Illustration: _Closeup of Dunker Church where Greene\u2019s men were\n    halted._ From Gardner\u2019s Photographic Sketch Book. Courtesy, Library\n    of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Federal artillery at Antietam. Note the observer in\n    foreground, and the smoke of battle._ From photograph by Alexander\n    Gardner. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. Edwin V. Sumner._ From photograph by Brady\n    or assistant. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. John Sedgwick._]\nBelieving that he still led two divisions, Sumner continued his march\npast the East Woods. By now he knew that the earlier Federal attackers\ncould give him no support, but he believed that the Confederates who had\nrepulsed them must be equally exhausted and disorganized. Striking\nnow\u2014immediately\u2014he might turn the tide before the enemy had time to\nrecover. In his hurry, Sumner neglected to make sure that French\u2019s\ndivision followed closely in his rear. Neither had he taken time to\nreconnoiter the Confederate front in the West Woods.\nSoon after 9 a.m., Sedgwick\u2019s heavy column, with Sumner at the head,\nstarted toward the Hagerstown Pike. Battleflags waving, bayonets\nglistening, the division marched forward in brigade front\u2014long swaying\nlines of two ranks each.\nUnmolested, they crossed the pike and passed into the West Woods. Almost\nsurrounding them were Jackson\u2019s quietly waiting 10,000. Suddenly the\ntrap was sprung. Caught within a pocket of almost encircling fire, in\nsuch compact formation that return fire was impossible, Sedgwick\u2019s men\nwere reduced to utter helplessness. Completely at the mercy of the\nConfederates on the front, flank, and rear, the Federal lines were\nshattered by converging volleys. So appalling was the slaughter, nearly\nhalf of Sedgwick\u2019s 5,000 men, were struck down in less than 20 minutes.\n    [Illustration: _The Halt of the Line of Battle._ From the wartime\n    sketch by Edwin Forbes. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Scene of the ambush. Sedgwick\u2019s men marched in from\n    left; note rock outcroppings where Jackson\u2019s men were hidden._]\n    [Illustration: _Part of the ground over which Sedgwick\u2019s men fought,\n    possibly near Hagerstown Pike._ Courtesy, National Archives.]\nBut the trap had not been completely closed. In the confusion of the\nsurprise assault, many regiments on the Federal right found an opening.\nHastily withdrawing to the northeast, they soon found cover under the\nprotecting fire of Sedgwick\u2019s artillery in the cornfield. Other\nbatteries in the East Woods and to the north joined in the cannonade.\nEagerly grasping the opportunity for a counterattack, Jackson\u2019s line now\nswept across the open fields and charged the Federal batteries in front\nof East Woods. But the fire was more than sheer valor could overcome.\nBlasted with grape and canister from the crossfire of 50 guns, the\nConfederates staggered, then gave way and drew back to the cover of West\nWoods. There, protruding rock strata protected them. Meanwhile, from his\nmenacing position near the Dunker Church, Greene was driven back by\nConfederate reserves.\n    [Illustration: _Sunken Road in 1877._]\n    [Illustration: _The same view today._]\nThree-quarters of Lee\u2019s army was now north of Sharpsburg. The successive\nFederal attacks had punched the northeast salient of the Confederate\nleft and center inward toward the Dunker Church. Now these two sectors\nwere merged into one long line that ran roughly southeast from Nicodemus\nHill, past the Dunker Church, to end along the Sunken Road. What had\nbeen the right (southern) end of the long Confederate line was now the\nrear. Properly speaking, Lee had no center. He had two separate\nlines\u2014the main one, facing northeast toward East Woods; and a detached\nguard force, facing southeast toward the Lower Bridge. Between them was\nonly a thin line of riflemen. If McClellan now delivered simultaneous\nhammer blows from northeast, east, and southeast, he would surely\ndestroy Lee\u2019s weak defensive setup. But if he continued his piece-meal\nattacks, Lee could keep on shuttling his brigades back and forth to meet\nthem. And this is what they both did.\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. Lafayette McLaws, who led Jackson\u2019s\n    counterattack after the ambush._ Courtesy, Frederick Hill Meserve\n    Collection.]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. D. H. Hill._ Courtesy, Library of\n    Congress.]\n                    _The Fight for the Sunken Road_\nSedgwick may have wondered, in the moments before the Confederate\nonslaught in the West Woods, why General French was not closely\nfollowing him. Nor is it clear, in view of French\u2019s instructions, why he\ndid not do so.\nFrench\u2019s troops had crossed Pry\u2019s Mill Ford in Sedgwick\u2019s wake. After\nmarching about a mile west, they had veered south toward the Roulette\nfarmhouse, possibly drawn that way by the fire of enemy skirmishers.\nContinuing to advance, they became engaged with Confederate infantry at\nthe farmhouse and in a ravine which inclines southward to a ridge. On\nthe crest of this ridge, a strong enemy force waited in a deeply cut\nlane\u2014the Sunken Road.\n    [Illustration: _Mumma farm, left; Roulette farmhouse, far right.\n    This view looking east from Hagerstown Pike. French\u2019s division\n    advanced from left toward the Sunken Road, which is off picture to\n    the right. Both farmhouses seen in this modern view were here at\n    time of the battle._]\nWorn down by farm use and the wash of heavy rains, this natural trench\njoins the Hagerstown Pike 500 yards south of the Dunker Church. From\nthis point the road runs east about 1,000 yards, then turns south toward\nthe Boonsboro Pike. That first 1,000 yards was soon to be known as\nBloody Lane.\nPosted in the road embankment were the five brigades of D. H. Hill. At\ndawn these men had faced east, their line crossing the Sunken Road. But\nunder the pressure of the Federal attacks on the Confederate left, they\nhad swung northward. Three of Hill\u2019s brigades had been drawn into the\nfight around the Dunker Church. Then Greene\u2019s Federals had driven them\nback toward the Sunken Road. There Hill rallied his troops. About 10:30\na.m., as the men were piling fence rails on the embankment to strengthen\nthe position, a strong enemy force appeared on their front, steadily\nadvancing with parade-like precision. It was French\u2019s division, heading\nup the ravine toward Sunken Road Ridge.\nCrouched at the road embankment, Hill\u2019s men delivered a galling fire\ninto French\u2019s ranks. The Federals fell back, then charged again. One\nUnion officer later wrote: \u201cFor three hours and thirty minutes the\nbattle raged incessantly, without either party giving way.\u201d\nBut French\u2019s division alone could not maintain its hold on the ridge.\nHurt by fire from Confederates in the road and on either side, the Union\nmen gave way. Still it was not over. French\u2019s reserve brigade now rushed\nup, restoring order in the disorganized ranks; once again the division\nmoved forward.\nNow, opportunely, Maj. Gen. Israel Richardson\u2019s Federal division\u2014also of\nSumner\u2019s corps\u2014arrived on the left of French and was about to strike\nHill\u2019s right flank in the road embankment.\nIt was a critical moment for the Confederates. Aware that loss of the\nSunken Road might bring disaster, Lee ordered forward his last\nreserve\u2014the five brigades of Maj. Gen. R. H. Anderson\u2019s division. At the\nsame time Brig. Gen. Robert Rodes of Hill\u2019s division launched a furious\nattack to hold the Federals back until Anderson\u2019s men could arrive. This\nthrust kept French\u2019s men from aiding Richardson, who even now prepared\nto assault the Confederates in the road.\nAs French\u2019s attack halted, Richardson swept forward in magnificent\narray. Richardson was a tough old fighter\u2014bluff and courageous, a leader\nof men. One of his officers recalled his leading the advance, sword in\nhand: \u201cWhere\u2019s General \u2014\u2014?\u201d he cried. Some soldiers answered, \u201cBehind\nthe haystack!\u201d \u201cG\u2014 d\u2014 the field officers!\u201d the old man roared, pushing\non with his men toward the Sunken Road. In three units they passed to\nthe east of the Roulette farmhouse and charged the Confederates at the\ncrest of the ridge.\nAs the struggle increased in fury, R. H. Anderson\u2019s brigades arrived in\nthe rear of Hill\u2019s troops in the road. But Anderson fell wounded soon\nafter his arrival, and suddenly the charging Confederate\ncounteroffensive lost its punch. By a mistaken order, Rodes\u2019 men in the\nSunken Road near the Roulette lane withdrew to the rear. A dangerous gap\nopened on the Confederate front. The artillerist Lt. Col. E. P.\nAlexander wrote later, \u201cWhen Rodes\u2019 brigade left the sunken road ...\nLee\u2019s army was ruined, and the end of the Confederacy was in sight.\u201d\nUnion Col. Francis Barlow saw the gap in the Confederate front opened by\nRodes\u2019 withdrawal. Quickly swinging two regiments astride the road, he\nraked its length with perfectly timed volleys. Routed by this\ndevastating enfilade, the Confederate defenders fled the road and\nretreated south toward Sharpsburg. Only a heroic rally by D. H. Hill\u2019s\nmen prevented a breakthrough into the town.\nThe Sunken Road was now Bloody Lane. Dead Confederates lay so thick\nthere, wrote one Federal soldier, that as far down the road as he could\nsee, a man could have walked upon them without once touching ground.\n    [Illustration: _On the Firing Line._ By Gilbert Gaul. Courtesy,\n    Library of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Bloody Lane._ Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\nThe Federals had suffered heavily, too. Their bodies covered the\napproaches to the ridge. In the final moments, while leading his men in\npursuit, Colonel Barlow had been seriously wounded; and shortly after,\nhis commander, General Richardson, had fallen with a mortal wound.\nThe fight for the Sunken Road had exhausted both sides. At 1 p.m. they\nhalted, and panting men grabbed their canteens to swish the dust and\npowder from their rasping throats.\nThe Confederate retreat from Bloody Lane had uncovered a great gap in\nthe center of Lee\u2019s line. A final plunge through this hole would sever\nthe Confederate army into two parts that could be destroyed in detail.\n\u201cOnly a few scattered handfuls of Harvey Hill\u2019s division were left,\u201d\nwrote Gen. William Allen, \u201cand R. H. Anderson\u2019s was hopelessly confused\nand broken.... There was no body of Confederate infantry in this part of\nthe field that could have resisted a serious advance.\u201d So desperate was\nthe situation that General Longstreet himself held horses for his staff\nwhile they served two cannon supporting Hill\u2019s thin line.\nBut McClellan\u2019s caution stopped the breakthrough before it was born.\nThough Franklin\u2019s VI Corps was massed for attack, McClellan restrained\nit. \u201cIt would not be prudent to make the attack,\u201d he told Franklin after\na brief examination of the situation, \u201cour position on the right being\n... considerably in advance of what it had been in the morning.\u201d\nSo McClellan turned to defensive measures. Franklin\u2019s reserve corps\nwould not be committed, but would remain in support of the Federal\nright. And in the center, McClellan held back Fitz-John Porter\u2019s V\nCorps. After all, reasoned the Federal commander, was not this the only\nforce that stood between the enemy and the Federal supply train on the\nBoonsboro Pike?\nBut Porter was not quite alone. The entire Federal artillery reserve\nstood with him. Further, Brig. Gen. Alfred Pleasonton had placed his\ncavalry and artillery on a commanding ridge west of the Middle Bridge\nduring the morning. From here he had already supported the attack by\nSumner\u2019s corps on the Sunken Road, and he had aided Burnside\u2019s efforts\non the left. Now he stood poised for further action. Pleasonton was to\nwait in vain. His dual purpose of obtaining \u201c... an enfilading fire upon\nthe enemy in front of Burnside, and of enabling Sumner to advance to\nSharpsburg\u201d was nullified by McClellan\u2019s decision to halt and take the\ndefensive.\nIn striking contrast to McClellan\u2019s caution, General Lee was at that\nvery moment considering a complete envelopment of the Federal flank at\nthe North and East Woods. By this means he might relieve the pressure on\nD. H. Hill; for despite the lull, Lee could not believe that McClellan\nhad halted the attack there. If the attack in the North Woods succeeded,\nLee hoped to drive the Federal remnants to the banks of Antietam Creek\nand administer a crushing defeat.\nJackson and J. E. B. Stuart, early in the afternoon, shifted northward\nand prepared to charge the Federal lines. When they arrived close to the\npowerful Federal artillery on Poffenberger Ridge, they saw that a\nConfederate attack there would be shattered by these massed guns. A\nwholesome respect for Federal artillerists now forced Lee to withdraw\nhis order. As he did so, heavy firing to the south heralded a new threat\ndeveloping there.\n                   _Burnside Takes the Lower Bridge_\nDuring the morning of the 17th, Confederate observers on the ridge north\nof Sharpsburg had spotted masses of Federals moving southward beyond\nAntietam Creek. These were the four divisions of Burnside\u2019s IX Corps\nconcentrating for the attack on the Lower Bridge.\nTopography at the Lower Bridge heavily favored the few hundred Georgia\nmen who defended it under the leadership of Brig. Gen. Robert Toombs.\nThe road approaching the east end of the bridge swings on a course\nparalleling that of Antietam Creek; in the last few hundred yards before\nreaching the bridge, the road plunges into a funnel-like depression\nbetween the opposing bluffs of the creek. Toombs\u2019 men were in rifle pits\non the west bluff overlooking the bridge and the approach road.\nBecause of faulty reconnaissance, Burnside did not know that fords were\nnearby where his men could have waded across the stream. Instead, the\nFederal plan of attack forced the advancing columns to pile into this\nfunnel and storm across the bridge.\nSoon after 9 a.m., the Federal divisions began to assault the bridge.\nOne after another, their gallant charges were broken by deadly\nshort-range fire from Toombs\u2019 Georgians. By noon, when the agony at the\nSunken Road was reaching its highest pitch, and despite repeated orders\nfrom McClellan to get across Antietam Creek at all costs, the bottleneck\nat the bridge was still unbroken.\nMeanwhile, Brig. Gen. Isaac Rodman\u2019s Union division had moved slowly\ndownstream from the bridge in search of a crossing. Rounding a sharp\nbend in the creek, nearly a mile south, scouts came upon shallow water\nat Snavely\u2019s Ford. Late in the morning Rodman crossed the stream and\nbegan to drive against the right flank of the Georgians guarding the\nbridge. About the same time, Col. George Crook\u2019s scouts located a ford a\nfew hundred yards above the bridge; there he sent his brigade across.\nCapt. Seth J. Simonds\u2019 battery was placed in position to command the\nbridge.\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. Ambrose E. Burnside._ From photograph by\n    Brady or assistant. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Burnside or Lower Bridge shortly after the battle.\n    Toombs\u2019 men were on the bluff in background._ Courtesy, Library of\n    Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Burnside\u2019s men storm the bridge._ From wartime\n    sketch by Forbes.]\n    [Illustration: _The same view today.  Note how tree at near end of\n    bridge has grown._]\n    [Illustration: _Zouaves of Burnside\u2019s IX Corps charge toward\n    Sharpsburg._ From wartime sketch by Forbes. Courtesy, Library of\n    Congress.]\n  Charge of Burnsides 9^th Corps, on the right flank of the rebel army,\n    1 The Town of Sharpsburg.\n    2 The Old Lutheran Church.\n    3 9^th N.Y. Vols. Hawkins Zouaves.\n    4 Rebels retreating into the town.\n    5 Rebel line of battle.\nAt 1 p.m., the defending Confederates saw a sudden stir across Antietam\nCreek. Two regiments, the 51st New York and the 51st Pennsylvania,\nmarched swiftly out from the cover of the wooded hill and charged for\nthe bridge. Supported now by converging artillery fire, they quickly\nformed into columns and were over the bridge before Confederate\nartillery could halt them. Soon a wide gap split the Confederate\ndefense. Masses of Federal troops poured across the bridge while Rodman\nand Crook hammered the Confederate flanks. Burnside\u2019s men had gained the\nwest bank of the creek.\nBut again there was fateful delay as Burnside paused to reorganize. By\nthe time he was ready to drive the Southern defenders from the ridge in\nhis front, 2 critical hours had passed.\nClose to 3 p.m., the mighty Federal line moved slowly up the hill toward\nSharpsburg, then gained momentum. \u201cThe movement of the dark column,\u201d\nrelated an observer, \u201cwith arms and banners glittering in the sun,\nfollowing the double line of skirmishers, dashing forward at a trot,\nloading and firing alternately as they moved, was one of the most\nbrilliant and exciting exhibitions of the day.\u201d\nFirst brushing aside the depleted ranks in the rifle pits above the\nbridge, the Federals struck D. R. Jones\u2019 four lonely brigades on the\nhills southeast of Sharpsburg\u2014whence every other Confederate infantry\nunit had been withdrawn to reinforce the line to the north. Unable to\nstem the massive Federal attack, Jones\u2019 men were driven back toward the\ntown.\nTo halt the Federal tide, Lee shifted all available artillery southward.\nBy 4 p.m., however, the Federals were approaching the village itself;\nonly a half mile lay between them and Lee\u2019s line of retreat to the\nPotomac. Disaster seemed at hand for Lee\u2019s decimated force.\n    [Illustration: _A Confederate battery on this site on the Harpers\n    Ferry Road fired on Burnside\u2019s men as they charged toward the left\n    across the low ground in the middle distance. A. P. Hill\u2019s division\n    marched behind these guns, going left, then turned off the road and\n    passed through the cornfield to hit Burnside\u2019s corps in flank._]\nBut now came a great moment in Confederate military annals. A. P. Hill\u2019s\nnotable Light Division, having hurriedly crossed the Potomac, 3 miles\naway, was driving hard toward the jubilant Federals charging on\nSharpsburg. Some of Hill\u2019s artillery had already arrived from Harpers\nFerry with the cheering news that Hill\u2019s brigades of infantry were close\nby.\nAt Lee\u2019s urgent order, Hill had left Harpers Ferry early. Sensing the\ncritical role they would play, urged on at sword point by their grim\ncommander, Hill\u2019s veterans had covered the 17 miles from Harpers Ferry\nto the Potomac in 7 hours. Hundreds of men had fallen out, unable to\nkeep the pace. Now, across the river, the stalwart survivors pounded on\ntoward the sound of the guns.\nSuddenly the head of Hill\u2019s column appeared on the road to the south.\nHill rode up to Lee\u2019s headquarters at the Oak Grove, then quickly to D.\nR. Jones, whose exhausted troops formed the last defense line in front\nof Sharpsburg. Hill\u2019s five brigades now rushed toward the Federal flank.\nConfusion gripped Burnside\u2019s men as this unexpected onslaught plowed\ninto their lines. Men broke and started to run. In moments the tide had\nturned. The Federal lines, sagging from the overwhelming charge of the\nSoutherners, and with gaping holes cut by artillery, fell back across\nthe hills to the sheltering banks of Antietam Creek.\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. A. P. Hill._ From an engraving by A. H.\n    Ritchie.]\nPowerful Federal artillery continued to thunder across the hills; heavy\nblue columns could still be seen in overmastering strength across\nAntietam Creek and far to the north. But the Federal commander had\ncalled a halt.\nAn hour and a half after the timely arrival of A. P. Hill\u2019s division\nfrom Harpers Ferry, the battle ended. With sunset, the firing died away.\nThat night, the tired men lay on their arms in line of battle. Neither\nside would admit defeat; neither could claim the victory.\n                       _Retreat from Sharpsburg_\nSeldom had Lee\u2019s army fought a battle so strenuous and so long. \u201cThe\nsun,\u201d a soldier wrote, \u201cseemed almost to go backwards, and it appeared\nas if night would never come.\u201d From dawn to sunset, the Confederate\ncommander had thrown into battle every organized unit north of the\nPotomac. Straggling in the days preceding Antietam had reduced Lee\u2019s\narmy from 55,000 to 41,000 men. This small force had sustained five\nmajor attacks by McClellan\u2019s 87,000-man army\u2014three in the West Woods and\nthe Miller cornfield, and those at the Sunken Road and the Lower\nBridge\u2014each time the outcome hanging in the balance.\n    [Illustration: _Blackford\u2019s Ford from the Maryland side of the\n    Potomac._]\nIn the stillness of the night, Lee called his commanders to his\nheadquarters west of Sharpsburg. Of each in turn he asked the condition\nof the men, and each, even Jackson, spoke against renewal of battle on\nthe morrow. \u201cStill too weak to assume the offensive,\u201d Lee wrote later,\n\u201cwe waited without apprehension the renewal of the attack.\u201d\nEarly on the following morning, it became apparent that McClellan was\nnot going to attack, though during the night he had received strong\nreinforcements, and more were on the way. Still undaunted, Lee returned\nto his plan of striking the Federal right at Poffenberger Ridge. But\nafter surveying the ground, his officers informed him that Federal\nbatteries completely dominated the narrow strip of land over which the\nattack must be launched. An attempt against the Federal guns would be\nsuicidal.\nBalked in his last hope of a counteroffensive, Lee realized that he\ncould not recall the decision won by McClellan at South Mountain: The\ncampaign was lost. During the afternoon, he announced to his lieutenants\nhis intention of withdrawing that night across the Potomac. At midnight\nLongstreet led the way across Blackford\u2019s Ford and formed a protective\nline on the south bank. Steadily through the night and early morning,\nthe Confederate columns crossed over into Virginia.\nMcClellan did not actively pursue. As the days passed and Lee\u2019s army\nwithdrew into the Shenandoah Valley, President Lincoln became impatient.\nThe time was at hand, he thought, for the decisive blow. Calling upon\nMcClellan on the field of Antietam, October 1, Lincoln urged a vigorous\npursuit of the Confederate army. McClellan insisted that his army\nrequired reorganization and new equipment. The President, having lost\nall confidence in McClellan, removed him from command on November 7.\n                     _The Battle and the Campaign_\nTactically, Antietam was a draw. Strategically, however, it was a\nNorthern victory because it halted Lee\u2019s invasion.\nThough McClellan failed to destroy Lee\u2019s army, his contribution was in\nmany ways notable. In the 3 weeks after he was chosen for command on\nSeptember 3, he provided for Washington\u2019s defense, created a new field\narmy, fought two major actions, compelled Lee\u2019s evacuation of Maryland,\nand established Federal control of the Potomac River from Washington to\nWilliamsport. That he was not a daring commander of Lee\u2019s stripe cannot\ndetract from these solid achievements.\nLee, on the other hand, may have been too daring. Because of this he\nmade two major miscalculations. First, his invasion of Maryland imposed\na strain that his poorly equipped and exhausted army could not support;\nheavy straggling was the surest evidence of this. Second, he misjudged\nthe capacity of the enemy to recuperate from the effects of Second\nManassas and quickly put a reliable field army on his trail. He did\nachieve one of his objectives: The delay of the Federal armies in\nresuming major offensive operations in Virginia until the next winter.\nBut the price was high and the South could not afford the kind of\nattrition suffered in the campaign.\nCasualties were so heavy in the Battle of Antietam that September 17,\n1862, is termed the bloodiest day of the Civil War. Of McClellan\u2019s\n26,023 killed, wounded, and captured during the Maryland Campaign\n(including Harpers Ferry), he counted 12,410 at Antietam. Of Lee\u2019s\n13,385 casualties during the campaign, 10,700 fell at Antietam.\n             _The War for the Union Takes on a New Purpose_\nAfter Antietam there was no serious threat of foreign recognition or\nintervention on behalf of the Confederacy. And the repulse inflicted on\nLee\u2019s Army of Northern Virginia gave Abraham Lincoln the opportunity he\nhad sought: On September 22\u2014just 5 days after the battle\u2014the President\nissued the preliminary Emancipation Proclamation. It declared that upon\nthe first day of January next all slaves within any State or district\nthen in rebellion against the United States \u201c... shall be then,\nthenceforward, and forever free.\u201d\n    [Illustration: _Lincoln visits McClellan and his staff after the\n    battle. McClellan is the fourth man to the left from the President._\n    Courtesy, National Archives.]\n    [Illustration: _Lincoln and McClellan confer on the field of\n    Antietam._]\n    [Illustration: _The President reads the Emancipation Proclamation to\n    his cabinet._ From an engraving based on the painting by Francis\n    Bicknell Carpenter. Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\nWith the formal Emancipation Proclamation of January 1, 1863, the war\ntook on new purpose. In the North, and in many foreign lands, the cause\nof American Union had become one with that of human liberty.\n                       _Clara Barton at Antietam_\nAt Antietam, also, was Clara Barton, founder of the American Red Cross.\nOn this field of desolation, long after the guns had ceased, Miss Barton\nwas still busily rendering care to the wounded and dying. Having arrived\nearly in the day in the northern area of battle, she witnessed the\nwounded men of Sedgwick\u2019s depleted ranks streaming to the cover of North\nand East Woods. By midmorning her wagonload of supplies, donated by the\ncitizens of Washington, had arrived. She worked tirelessly with army\nsurgeons at the field hospital on the Joseph Poffenberger farm. Her\nsupply of bandages, linens, anesthetics, and oil lanterns replenished\nthe surgeons\u2019 urgent need of dressings and provided light to carry on\nthrough the night. So outstanding were her services on the field of\nbattle that she later received official recognition by the United States\nArmy Medical Corps. Her work here and later would become basic to the\nestablishment of the American Red Cross.\n    [Illustration: _Barn near Keedysville, used as field hospital after\n    the battle._ Courtesy, National Archives.]\n              _Antietam National Battlefield and Cemetery_\nThe Antietam National Battlefield was established August 30, 1890, to\ncommemorate the significant events of September 17, 1862, and to\npreserve the important features of the battlefield. Administered by the\nWar Department until 1933, the site was transferred that year to the\nU.S. Department of the Interior to be administered by the National Park\nService.\n    [Illustration: _Clara Barton._ Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Citizen volunteers assisting the wounded at\n    Antietam._ From wartime sketch by Waud. Courtesy, Library of\n    Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _Maryland Monument._]\n    [Illustration: _Turner\u2019s Gap looking east._]\n    [Illustration: _War Correspondents\u2019 Memorial Arch at Crampton\u2019s\nThe Battle of Antietam was fought over an area of 12 square miles. The\nsite today consists of 810 acres containing approximately 8\u00bd miles of\ntour roads. Located along the battlefield avenues to mark battle\npositions of infantry, artillery, and cavalry are many monuments,\nmarkers, and narrative tablets. Similar markers describe the actions at\nTurner\u2019s Gap, Harpers Ferry, and Blackford\u2019s Ford.\n    [Illustration: _Lee headquarters marker in the Oak Grove._]\nKey artillery positions on the field of Antietam are marked by cannon.\nAnd 10 large-scale field exhibits at important points on the field\nindicate troop positions and battle action.\nThe War Correspondents\u2019 Memorial Arch and the 1st New Jersey Regimental\nMonument are located at Crampton\u2019s Gap, and at Fox\u2019s Gap is the memorial\nto Maj. Gen. Jesse Reno, who was killed while leading the Federal attack\nthere.\nOutstanding in the observance of battle anniversaries at Antietam was\nthe occasion of the 75th anniversary on September 17, 1937. Thirty-five\nthousand persons, including 50 veterans who fought at Antietam, joined\nin the observance held on the battleground near the Sunken Road.\n    [Illustration: _The National Cemetery._]\nThe Robert E. Lee Memorial tablet, located in a plot at the western\nlimits of Sharpsburg, marks the headquarters of General Lee. General\nMcClellan\u2019s headquarters were in the Philip Pry house, 2 miles east of\nSharpsburg near the Boonsboro Pike.\n    [Illustration: _McClellan\u2019s headquarters, the Philip Pry House._]\nThe National Cemetery, located at the eastern limits of Sharpsburg, is\nthe burial place of Federal dead from the Battles of Antietam, South\nMountain, and minor engagements. The cemetery was established by an act\nof the Maryland legislature in March 1865; the dedication took place\nSeptember 17, 1867, the fifth anniversary of the battle. The cemetery\nplot of 11 acres was deeded by the State of Maryland to the United\nStates Government on March 13, 1878. Of 4,776 Civil War burials, 1,836\nare listed as unidentified. The total number of burials, including\nnearly 300 from recent wars, is more than 5,000.\nThe Antietam National Battlefield is a part of the National Park System,\nowned by the people of the United States and administered for them by\nthe National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior.\nCommunications should be addressed to the Superintendent, Antietam\nNational Battlefield, P.O. Box 158, Sharpsburg, Maryland 21782.\nBradford, Ned, editor, _Battles and Leaders of the Civil War_.\n      Appleton-Century-Crofts, New York, 1956.\n  These selections from the original four volume 1887-88 edition are\n  excellent for on-the-spot impressions of participants. Should be used\n  with caution concerning historical accuracy.\nCatton, Bruce, _Mr. Lincoln\u2019s Army_. Doubleday & Company, Garden City,\n  Popular well-written interpretive study with colorful battle accounts.\n  Descriptions of camplife are very good.\nCommager, Henry S., editor, _The Blue and the Gray_. Bobbs-Merrill\n      Company, Inc., New York, 1950.\n  Fine selection of readings from the pens of participants. Again, as\n  with _Battles and Leaders_, these accounts suffer from immediacy and\n  should be used with caution.\nFreeman, D. S., _R. E. Lee_, Vol. II. Charles Scribner\u2019s Sons, New York,\n  Outstanding as biography and as military history. Detailed analysis of\n  Lee\u2019s actions as commander with vivid battle descriptions. Excellent\n  footnotes for further reference.\nHassler, Warren W., Jr., _General George B. McClellan, Shield of the\n      Union_. Louisiana State University Press, Baton Rouge, 1957.\n  Interesting interpretation of McClellan\u2019s actions as Federal\n  commander. His difficulties with subordinates, especially Burnside,\n  are used to explain Federal failure to take advantage of opportunities\n  at Antietam.\nHenderson, G. F. R., _Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War_.\n      Longmans, Green and Company, London, 1955 reprint.\n  This is a modern reprint of Henderson\u2019s classic military biography,\n  first printed in 1898; it is still a standard work on the legendary\n  Jackson.\nLongstreet, James, _From Manassas to Appomattox_. J. B. Lippincott and\n      Company, Philadelphia, 1896.\n  Written many years after the war, this account by a leading\n  participant emphasizes his own point of view.\n                    _The Emancipation Proclamation_\nOn August 22, 1862, just one month before Abraham Lincoln issued the\npreliminary Emancipation Proclamation, he wrote a letter to Horace\nGreeley, abolitionist editor of the New York Tribune. The letter read in\npart:\n  I would save the Union. I would save it the shortest way under the\n  Constitution. The sooner the National authority can be restored, the\n  nearer the Union will be \u201cthe Union as it was.\u201d If there be those who\n  would not save the Union unless they could at the same time _save_\n  Slavery, I do not agree with them. If there be those who would not\n  save the Union unless they could at the same time _destroy_ Slavery, I\n  do not agree with them. My paramount object in this struggle _is_ to\n  save the Union, and is _not_ either to save or destroy Slavery.... I\n  have here stated my purpose according to my view of official duty, and\n  I intend no modification of my oft-expressed personal wish that all\n  men everywhere could be free....\nFor some months before the Battle of Antietam, as his letter to Greeley\nindicates, Lincoln had been wrestling with the problem of slavery and\nits connection with the war. He became convinced that a new spiritual\nand moral force\u2014emancipation of the slaves\u2014must be injected into the\nUnion cause, else the travail of war might dampen the fighting spirit of\nthe North. If this loss of vitality should come to pass, the paramount\npolitical objective of restoring the Union might never be attained.\nAnother compelling factor in Lincoln\u2019s thinking was the need to veer\nEuropean opinion away from its sympathy for the South. A war to free the\nslaves would enlist the support of Europe in a way that a war for purely\npolitical objectives could not.\nThus, slowly and with much soul searching, Lincoln\u2019s official view of\nhis duty came to correspond with his personal wish for human freedom.\nThe outcome of these deliberations was the Emancipation Proclamation.\nThe Federal victory at Antietam gave Lincoln the opportunity to issue\nthe proclamation\u2014a dramatic step toward eliminating slavery in the\nUnited States.\nBy this act, Lincoln stretched the Constitution to the limit of its\nmeaning. His interpretation of presidential war powers was\nrevolutionary. It would become a precedent for other Presidents who\nwould similarly find constitutional authority for emergency action in\ntime of war.\n    [Illustration: _First page of Lincoln\u2019s handwritten draft of the\n    formal Emancipation Proclamation._ Courtesy, Library of Congress.]\nMore important, the proclamation was to inaugurate a revolution in human\nrelationships. Although Congress had previously enacted laws concerning\nthe slaves that went substantially as far as the Emancipation\nProclamation, the laws had lacked the dramatic and symbolic import of\nLincoln\u2019s words. Dating from the proclamation, the war became a crusade\nand the vital force of abolition sentiment was captured for the Union\ncause, both at home and abroad\u2014especially in England.\nThe immediate practical effects of the Emancipation Proclamation were\nnegligible, applying as it did only to those areas \u201cin rebellion\u201d where\nit could not be enforced. But its message became a symbol and a goal\nwhich opened the way for universal emancipation in the future. Thus the\nThirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Amendments to the Constitution are\ndirect progeny of Lincoln\u2019s proclamation.\nAny document with the long-term importance of the Emancipation\nProclamation deserves to be read by those who experience its effects.\nFollowing is the text of the formal Emancipation Proclamation, issued on\nJanuary 1, 1863:\n            BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA:\n  Whereas on the 22d day of September, A.D. 1862, a proclamation was\n  issued by the President of the United States, containing, among other\n  things, the following, to wit:\n  \u201cThat on the 1st day of January, A.D. 1863, all persons held as slaves\n  within any State or designated part of a State the people whereof\n  shall then be in rebellion against the United States shall be then,\n  thenceforward, and forever free; and the executive government of the\n  United States, including the military and naval authority thereof,\n  will recognize and maintain the freedom of such persons and will do no\n  act or acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts\n  they may make for their actual freedom.\n  \u201cThat the executive will on the 1st day of January aforesaid, by\n  proclamation, designate the States and parts of States, if any, in\n  which the people thereof, respectively, shall then be in rebellion\n  against the United States; and the fact that any State or the people\n  thereof shall on that day be in good faith represented in the Congress\n  of the United States by members chosen thereto at elections wherein a\n  majority of the qualified voters of such States shall have\n  participated shall, in the absence of strong countervailing testimony,\n  be deemed conclusive evidence that such State and the people thereof\n  are not then in rebellion against the United States.\u201d\n  Now, therefore, I, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, by\n  virtue of the power in me vested as Commander-in-Chief of the Army and\n  Navy of the United States in time of actual armed rebellion against\n  the authority and government of the United States, and as a fit and\n  necessary war measure for suppressing said rebellion, do, on this 1st\n  day of January, A.D. 1863, and in accordance with my purpose so to do,\n  publicly proclaimed for the full period of one hundred days from the\n  first day above mentioned, order and designate as the States and parts\n  of States wherein the people thereof, respectively, are this day in\n  rebellion against the United States the following, to wit:\n  Arkansas, Texas, Louisiana (except the parishes of St. Bernard,\n  Paquemines, Jefferson, St. John, St. Charles, St. James, Ascension,\n  Assumption, Terrebonne, Lafourche, St. Mary, St. Martin, and Orleans,\n  including the city of New Orleans), Mississippi, Alabama, Florida,\n  Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, and Virginia (except the\n  forty-eight counties designated as West Virginia, and also the\n  counties of Berkeley, Accomac, Northhampton, Elizabeth City, York,\n  Princess Anne, and Norfolk, including the cities of Norfolk and\n  Portsmouth), and which excepted parts are for the present left\n  precisely as if this proclamation were not issued.\n  And by virtue of the power and for the purpose aforesaid, I do order\n  and declare that all persons held as slaves within said designated\n  States and parts of States are, and henceforward shall be, free; and\n  that the Executive Government of the United States, including the\n  military and naval authorities thereof will recognize and maintain the\n  freedom of said persons.\n  And I hereby enjoin upon the people so declared to be free to abstain\n  from all violence, unless in necessary self-defense; and I recommend\n  to them that, in all cases when allowed, they labor faithfully for\n  reasonable wages.\n  And I further declare and make known that such persons of suitable\n  condition will be received into the armed service of the United States\n  to garrison forts, positions, stations, and other places, and to man\n  vessels of all sorts in said service.\n  And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice,\n  warranted by the Constitution upon military necessity, I invoke the\n  considerate judgement of mankind and the gracious favor of Almighty\n  God.\n    [Illustration: Maryland Seal]\n                          National Battlefield\n                         National Park Service\n                    U.S. Department of the Interior\n    [Illustration: The Federal attack across Burnside Bridge, as\n    portrayed (somewhat fancifully) in a postwar chromolithograph by\n    Kurz & Allison. Library of Congress]\n                   The Bloodiest Day of the Civil War\nThe Battle of Antietam (or Sharpsburg) on September 17, 1862, climaxed\nthe first of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee\u2019s two attempts to carry the\nwar into the North. About 40,000 Southerners were pitted against the\n87,000-man Federal Army of the Potomac under Gen. George B. McClellan.\nAnd when the fighting ended, the course of the American Civil War had\nbeen greatly altered.\nAfter his great victory at Manassas in August, Lee had marched his Army\nof Northern Virginia into Maryland, hoping to find vitally needed men\nand supplies. McClellan followed, first to Frederick (where through rare\ngood fortune a copy of the Confederate battle plan, Lee\u2019s Special Order\nNo. 191, fell into his hands), then westward 12 miles to the passes of\nSouth Mountain. There on September 14, at Turner\u2019s, Fox\u2019s, and\nCrampton\u2019s gaps, Lee tried to block the Federals. But because he had\nsplit his army to send troops under Gen. Thomas J. \u201cStonewall\u201d Jackson\nto capture Harpers Ferry, Lee could only hope to delay the Northerners.\nMcClellan forced his way through, and by the afternoon September 15 both\narmies had established new battlelines west and east of Antietam Creek\nnear the town of Sharpsburg. When Jackson\u2019s troops reached Sharpsburg on\nthe 16th, Harpers Ferry having surrendered the day before, Lee\nconsolidated his position along the low ridge that runs north and south\nof the town.\n    [Illustration: \u201cWar is a dreadful thing.... Oh, my God, can\u2019t this\n    civil strife be brought to an end.\u201d\n    Clara Barton, who tended the wounded at Antietam during and after\n    the battle.]\nThe battle opened at dawn on the 17th when Union Gen. Joseph Hooker\u2019s\nartillery began a murderous fire on Jackson\u2019s men in the Miller\ncornfield north of town. \u201cIn the time I am writing,\u201d Hooker reported,\n\u201cevery stalk of corn in the northern and greater part of the field was\ncut as closely as could have been done with a knife, and the slain lay\nin rows precisely as they had stood in their ranks a few moments\nbefore.\u201d Hooker\u2019s troops advanced, driving the Confederates before them,\nand Jackson reported that his men were \u201cexposed for near an hour to a\nterrific storm of shell, canister, and musketry.\u201d\nAbout 7 a.m. Jackson was reenforced and succeeded in driving the\nFederals back. An hour later Union troops under Gen. Joseph Mansfield\ncounterattacked and by 9 o\u2019clock had regained some of the lost ground.\nThen, in an effort to extricate some of Mansfield\u2019s men from their\nisolated position near the Dunker Church, Gen. John Sedgwick\u2019s division\nof Edwin V. Sumner\u2019s corps advanced into the West Woods. There\nConfederate troops struck Sedgwick\u2019s men on both flanks, inflicting\nappalling casualties.\n    [Illustration: \u201cI have always had a high opinion of General\n    McClellan, and have no reason to suppose that he failed to\n    accomplish anything that he was able to do.\u201d\n    Robert E. Lee]\nMeanwhile, Gen. William H. French\u2019s division of Sumner\u2019s corps moved up\nto support Sedgwick but veered south into Confederates under Gen. D. H.\nHill posted along an old sunken road separating the Roulette and Piper\nfarms. For nearly 4 hours, from 9:30 a.m. to 1 p.m., bitter fighting\nraged along this road (afterwards known as Bloody Lane) as French,\nsupported by Gen. Israel B. Richardson\u2019s division, also of Sumner\u2019s\ncorps, sought to drive the southerners back. Confusion and sheer\nexhaustion finally ended the battle here and in the northern part of the\nfield generally.\nSoutheast of town, Union Gen. Ambrose E. Burnside\u2019s troops had been\ntrying to cross a bridge over Antietam Creek since 9:30 a.m. Some 400\nGeorgians had driven them back each time. At 1 p.m. the Federals finally\ncrossed the bridge (now known as Burnside Bridge) and, after a 2-hour\ndelay to reform their lines, advanced up the slope beyond. By late\nafternoon they had driven the Georgians back almost to Sharpsburg,\nthreatening to cut off the line of retreat for Lee\u2019s decimated\nConfederates. Then about 4 p.m. Gen. A. P. Hill\u2019s division, left behind\nby Jackson at Harpers Ferry to salvage the captured Federal property,\narrived on the field and immediately entered the fight. Burnside\u2019s\ntroops were driven back to the heights near the bridge they had earlier\ntaken. The Battle of Antietam was over. The next day Lee began\nwithdrawing his army across the Potomac River.\n    [Illustration: \u201cIf I cannot whip Bobbie Lee, I will be willing to go\n    home.\u201d\n    George B. McClellan]\nMore men were killed or wounded at Antietam on September 17, 1862, than\non any other single day of the Civil War. Federal losses were 12,410,\nConfederate losses 10,700. Although neither side gained a decisive\nvictory, Lee\u2019s failure to carry the war effort effectively into the\nNorth caused Great Britain to postpone recognition of the Confederate\ngovernment. The battle also gave President Abraham Lincoln the\nopportunity to issue the Emancipation Proclamation, which, on January 1,\n1863, declared free all slaves in States still in rebellion against the\nUnited States. Now the war had a dual purpose: to preserve the Union and\nend slavery.\n    [Illustration: Sharpsburg, Md., looking southwest along Main Street,\n    September 21 or 22, 1862. Library of Congress]\n    [Illustration: 1]\n    [Illustration: 9]\n    [Illustration: 11]\nAntietam National Battlefield lies north and east of Sharpsburg, along\nMd. 34 and 65. Both routes intersect either U.S. 40 or 40A and Int. 70.\nThe visitor center is north of Sharpsburg on Md. 65 and is open daily\nexcept Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years Day. All visitor center\nfacilities and most tour route exhibits are wheelchair accessible.\nThere are interpretive markers at Turner\u2019s, Fox\u2019s, and Crampton\u2019s Gaps\non South Mountain (scenes of preliminary fighting) and at the\nShepherdstown (W. Va.) Ford where Lee\u2019s army recrossed the Potomac.\nWhile touring the park, stay alert to all traffic. Bicyclists should use\ncaution while descending hills. Please use trails to avoid contact with\nstinging nettles, ticks, and snakes. Do not climb on cannons, monuments,\nfences, or trees. Don\u2019t spoil your visit with an accident. Note: Relic\nhunting is prohibited.\nAntietam National Battlefield and Cemetery are administered by the\nNational Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior. A\nsuperintendent, whose address is Box 158, Sharpsburg, MD 21782, is in\n    [Illustration: Area map]\n                          Touring Antietam Battlefield\nBefore starting your tour, stop at the visitor center where exhibits and\naudio-visual programs provide an introduction to the battle and the\nMaryland Campaign. The numbered tour stops below are arranged according\nto the sequence of the battle.\n    [Illustration: Battlefield map]\nMorning Phase (6 a.m. to 9 a.m.)\n1 Dunker Church This was the focal point of repeated clashes as both\n      armies sought to occupy and hold the high ground around it.\n      Leveled by a storm in 1921, the church was rebuilt in 1962.\n2 North Woods General Hooker launched the initial Union attack from this\n      point. It was stopped by Jackson\u2019s troops in The Cornfield, \u00bd mile\n      south.\n3 East Woods Union Gen. Joseph Mansfield was fatally wounded here as he\n      led his XII Corps into battle.\n4 The Cornfield More fighting took place here in the Miller cornfield\n      than anywhere else at Antietam. The battlelines swept back and\n      forth across the field for three hours.\n5 West Woods Union Gen. John Sedgwick\u2019s division lost more than 2,200\n      men in less than half an hour in an ill-fated charge into these\n      woods against Jackson\u2019s troops.\n6 Mumma Farm Burned by the Confederates to prevent their use by Union\n      sharpshooters, the Mumma farm buildings were the only civilian\n      property purposely destroyed during the battle.\nMidday Phase (9:30 a.m. to 1 p.m.)\n7 Roulette Farm Union troops under French and Richardson crossed these\n      fields on their way to meet the Confederates posted in the Sunken\n8 Sunken Road (Bloody Lane) For nearly 4 hours, Union and Confederate\n      infantry contested this sunken country road, resulting in over\n      5,000 casualties. Thus the name \u201cBloody Lane\u201d.\nAfternoon Phase (1 p.m. to 5:30 p.m.)\n9 Lower Bridge (Burnside Bridge) The fighting here was a key factor in\n      McClellan\u2019s failure at Antietam. Called Burnside Bridge after the\n      Union general whose troops were held off most of the day by a few\n      hundred Georgia riflemen, it is the battlefield\u2019s best-known\n      landmark.\n10 The Final Attack After taking the Lower Bridge and reforming his\n      corps, Burnside marched his men across these hills toward\n      Sharpsburg, threatening to cut off Lee\u2019s line of retreat. Just as\n      the Federals reached this area, A. P. Hill\u2019s Confederate division\n      arrived from Harpers Ferry and drove them back.\n11 Antietam National Cemetery The remains of 4,776 Federal soldiers,\n      including 1,836 unknowns, are buried in this hilltop cemetery near\n      town. Most of the Confederate dead are buried in Hagerstown and\n      Frederick, Md., Shepherdstown, W. Va., and in local church and\n      family cemeteries.\nThe battle of Antietam, fought over an area of 12 square miles,\n      consisted of the three basic phases\u2014morning, midday, and\n      afternoon\u2014shown on the maps at right. During the morning phase,\n      three piecemeal Union attacks drove back Jackson\u2019s line, but did\n      not break it. The midday phase saw two Union divisions break D. H.\n      Hill\u2019s line in the sunken road, but McClellan\u2019s failure to follow\n      it up lost him the advantage that had been gained. In the\n      afternoon phase, Burnside\u2019s slow pincer movement beyond the lower\n      bridge was broken by A. P. Hill\u2019s timely arrival.\n    [Illustration: Morning Phase]\n    [Illustration: Midday Phase]\n    [Illustration: Afternoon Phase]\n\u2014Silently corrected a few typos.\n\u2014Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook\n  is public-domain in the country of publication.\n\u2014In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by\n  _underscores_.\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Antietam National Battlefield, Maryland, by \nFrederick Tilberg\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANTIETAM NATIONAL BATTLEFIELD ***\n***** This file should be named 55413-0.txt or 55413-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1926, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Tom Cosmas from materials made available on\nThe Internet Archive.\nTranscriber Notes\nText emphasis denoted as _Italics_.\n                     [Illustration: LEAFLET No. 132]\n                DEN HUNTING AS A MEANS OF COYOTE CONTROL\n  By Stanley P. Young, _principal biologist and chief of division_, and\n   Harold W. Dobyns, _assistant leader, Section of Predator and Rodent\n    Control, Division of Game Management, Bureau of Biological Survey_\nCONTENTS\n  Qualifications and equipment of the den hunter                2\n  Breeding habits and number of young                           3\nImportance of Den Hunting\nThere is perhaps no better method of keeping down the increase of coyotes\nthan to destroy the newly born whelps before they abandon the dens to\nshift for themselves. A little time spent in locating dens in April, May,\nand June and destroying the whelps will save months of strenuous effort\ntrying to rid the range of the predators after they have reached maturity.\nCoyotes are particularly destructive during the denning season because of\nthe need of extra food both for themselves and their young. Lambing bands\nof sheep on open ranges suffer the heaviest losses. Coyotes that kill\nlambs during April and May generally have dens, and when the dens are\nlocated and the whelps destroyed, the sheep killing usually stops. Some\ncoyotes show great cunning in refraining from killing lambs near their\ndens and will pass by a band of sheep that is herded right over a den\nonly to raid another several miles distant. They have been known to carry\nleg of lamb a distance of 8 miles to their young in the den. Contrary\nto the belief of stockmen and others, the male coyote is as destructive\nas the female, and special attention to fresh kills at lambing time has\nshown that the tracks of male coyotes are more in evidence than those of\nthe females.\nQualifications and Equipment of the Den Hunter\nThe most essential qualifications of a den hunter are keen observation,\npersistence, and familiarity with the habits of coyotes. He can probably\nbecome more skilled in den hunting than in any other phase of coyote\ncontrol. The denning habits of coyotes are similar in most sections,\nand the same general methods of den hunting can be applied to humid\nmountainous sections and to semiarid deserts.\n\"Den sign\" means indications of denning activity and should always be\nwatched for. It may consist of tracks, a well-worn path leading to and\nfrom a den, or holes freshly cleaned out. Holes made by the coyotes in\ndigging out squirrels or rabbits should not be confused, however, with\nthose prepared for dens. A good hunter will overlook no likely place and\nshould take advantage of every hint, for dens are often found where least\nexpected. He should look for den sign in every locality where animals\nare frequently seen. He should keep in mind the places used by pairs of\ncoyotes and visit all old dens known, as sign may often be discovered\nthere at whelping time. Holes may be cleaned out in one canyon and the\nden be just over the hill in another. Sheep herders on a range usually\ncan give valuable information as to locations of dens.\nThe equipment of a den hunter should include at least two good, gentle\nsaddle horses, a small shovel, a pair of good field glasses, a rifle of\nnot less than .25 caliber, and a dog. Coyotes are not so much afraid of a\nman on horseback as of one on foot. A rider, therefore, can get many good\nshots, and in heavy sagebrush he can more easily see and track coyotes\nfrom his vantage seat upon a horse.\nBreeding Habits and Number of Young\nIn the mating season coyotes may be heard yelping much more than usual,\nand packs of three to a dozen animals may be seen. Later the breeding\nanimals pair off. Some pairs may remain together for a number of years,\nbut as a rule coyotes do not mate for life.\nThe whelping season varies with latitude. In general, according to\nstudies of a large number of embryos by G. W. D. Hamlett, of the\nBiological Survey, the season in the northern tier of States seems\nsomewhat earlier than farther south; in Montana, for example, breeding\nbegins about February 1 and lasts throughout the month, the average date\nbeing February 15. In Texas, breeding seems to begin somewhat later,\nalthough data are inadequate for definite conclusions. In some States, as\nin Oregon and Arizona, Hamlett found a variation of at least 2 months in\nthe time of breeding, probably because of great diversity in habitat. A\nstudy on the spot, with due attention to altitude and other environmental\nfactors, would probably explain any unusual variation.\nCoyote pups are born 60 to 63 days after breeding. Their eyes open when\nthey are 9 to 14 days old. The average number of young to the litter is\nnormally 7. Although there may be smaller litters when food is scarce, it\nis not uncommon to find litters of 9 to 12 (fig. 1, A), and some females\nhave been known to have as many as 17 young. The only thing provided in\nthe nature of a nest is an enlarged section of the den, and some dens do\nnot have even this. The pups lie in the dry dust on the floor.\nDens are often found to contain two litters, one consisting of young with\neyes not yet open and the other of pups about a month old. One litter\nmay be large and the other small, the latter probably belonging to a\nyoung female that, apparently at a loss for a place to den, had taken up\nquarters with her mother. Young females usually whelp about 10 days to\n2 weeks later than the older ones. An occasional den may harbor three\nlitters. At a den where two litters are found there is usually only one\nmale, which would suggest polygamy.\nUnder normal conditions a pair of coyotes is found with every den unless\none parent has been killed. If this happens to be the female and the pups\nare young, they die. If they are old enough to eat meat, the male parent\ncares for them, as he does his part in providing food.\nDenning Sites and Habits\nCoyotes do not select denning sites according to any recognizable rule,\nbut many of them return to the same general locality year after year,\neven though dens are regularly dug out and the pups killed by den\nhunters. If the female is killed, the male may bring his new mate to the\nsame den the next season. A dug out den that has not been badly damaged\nin removing coyotes may remain unoccupied for two or three seasons and\nthen be used again, as was the case with the den in Conejos County,\nColo., shown on the title page.\n[Illustration: B27874; B4847A\nFigure 1.--A, Coyote and a litter of 10 taken from a den\nin San Luis Valley, Colo., in cooperative predator-control operations;\nB, coyote den (directly beneath hunter) in a hillside thicket in rugged\ncountry, Lance Creek, Wyo.]\nDens may be found in a canyon, wash-out, or coulee, on a bank or\nhillside (fig. 1, B), in a rock bluff, or even in level ground, as in\na wheatfield, stubblefield, or plowed field. They have been discovered\nunder deserted homestead shacks in the desert, under grain bins, in a\ndrainage pipe, under a railroad, in a hollow log, in a thicket, and under\na clump of thistles that had blown into a canyon.\nAs a rule, instead of digging all new dens, coyotes will enlarge\nabandoned badger or rabbit holes or use deserted porcupine dens in rocky\npromontories or canyon walls. Usually they start cleaning out the holes\nseveral weeks prior to whelping. They generally claw out the dirt in\none direction from the mouth of the den, where it piles up into a mound,\nalthough some dens have no such mound (fig. 2, A).\nThe female continues digging and cleaning out den holes, sometimes a\ndozen or more, until the young are born. Then, if one den is disturbed\nthe family moves to another. Sometimes the animals move only a few\nhundred yards, apparently just to have a cleaner home, leaving many fleas\nbehind. Occasionally a female that has lost her whelps will clean out\nseveral holes before becoming reconciled to her loss. Barren females\nsometimes clean out holes, but they are not found traveling with a mate.\nMale coyotes also work at many holes in spring but generally to dig\nout dead rabbits. The tracks of the male will usually be seen at these\nfreshly dug holes, which have a different appearance from those cleaned\nout for dens, and dried-up rabbit carcasses will generally be found\nnearby.\n[Illustration: B34748; B30757\nFigure 2.--A, Entrance to a coyote den in a dry\ncreek bank, Morrow County, Oreg.; B, a former Biological Survey\npredator-control leader at the mouth of the coyote den dug out near\nCokeville, Wyo. (Remains of three lambs in foreground, including two\nskulls out of which the brains had been lapped by coyotes.)]\nWhen entering the den, the coyotes almost always go around, not over, the\nmound, if one is present. Dens may have one or several entrances in use,\nand several passages may branch from the main one. After the pups are\nborn, small balls of rolled fur and hair from the mother's belly may be\nfound in the dry dirt in the mouth of the den.\nParent coyotes have no set time for being at home and may be found near\nthe den at any hour. Although they do most of their killing early in the\nmorning, they sometimes visit the den only at night. They are clean about\ntheir dens; so there is little refuse or odor.\nMethods of Den Hunting\nThe proper time for hunting coyote dens is from April 5 to June 15.\nIf one starts too early, before some of the coyotes have whelped, the\nterritory will have to be covered again. Where signs indicate a late den,\nhowever, it should be sought in a follow-up visit.\nThe coyote den is usually made in rougher surroundings than are dens of\nsmall burrowing rodents and is normally within reach of water. Contrary\nto general supposition, however, coyotes do not always have their dens\nnear water. In hilly areas they usually do, but on the large deserts of\neastern Oregon the dens are often found as far as 6 miles from water.\nCoyotes do not go to water regularly unless the weather is warm, and pups\ndo not need water until they are several months old.\nDen hunting should be systematic and thorough. Where the soil is sandy\nthe movements of coyotes can be readily ascertained by means of tracks\nand other signs characteristic of the whelping season. The general\nlocation of a den may occasionally be learned by hearing the howling of\nthe coyotes, but other means must be employed to actually find it. It may\nbe located by tracking, by watching the movements of old coyotes, or by\nriding the range looking for holes, but systematic tracking insures the\nbest results.\nA good time to hunt dens by tracking is just after a rain. Another good\ntime is the day after a severe windstorm, as storms restrict the activity\nof the coyotes.\nWater holes and springs in the desert are excellent places from which to\nstart in locating dens. It is best to circle the water hole, noting the\ndirection of the tracks and giving special attention to those of pairs\nand to their relative freshness, for when fresh tracks of a pair are\nnoted they are generally close to the den. When sign is found, it should\nbe back-tracked to a point where there are tracks going both ways; the\ntracks begin to form a trail within a quarter of a mile from the dens.\nNear the den, unless the ground is too hard, many tracks will be found\ngoing and coming in every direction. Finding the den is then an easy\nmatter. Sometimes, however, tracks lead to a den from only one direction.\nLoose hairs and distinctive tracks are often to be found in the mouth\nof a used coyote den. The coyote track is elongated, and not nearly so\nrounded as a dog track, and the coyote side-toe track is longer than that\nof a dog of the same size. The tracks of young coyotes, barren females,\nand those that have lost their pups can be distinguished from those of\ndenning pairs, as the latter generally travel by a direct route, the\ntracks of the female usually being smaller and more pointed than those of\nthe male.\nWhen the female leaves the den for water she almost always travels on a\ndirect line, probably not deviating over a hundred yards from it in a\ndistance of several miles. Coyotes do not always water at the same place\neach time, however, nor return to their den direct from the watering\nplace unless the den is a long distance from water. Sometimes the male\nwill remain near the den while the female is away, but more often the\ntwo travel together, the female holding a little more to a true course\nthan the male. The tracks often indicate that they travel side by side\nfor some distance, the male then wandering away several hundred yards but\nlater returning to his mate.\nCoyotes with dens have regular hunting grounds to which they usually\ntravel on a nearly straight course, whether near or several miles\ndistant, but they do not travel back to the den on a direct line again\nuntil after they have made their kills.\nWhen the den is in danger of being discovered coyotes act in a nervous\nmanner. Some will circle about it at a distance when the hunter is near;\nthe old female may be seen in one direction and, after disappearing, may\nlater be seen peering over a hill in another quarter. When a female with\na den first sees a person, she looks first at him for a moment, then\nalmost invariably toward the den, sometimes turning completely around to\ndo so.\nA den is usually located within a radius of approximately a mile of\nfreshly cleaned out holes. An experienced hunter can tell by the\nappearance of a den and by signs nearby whether it is occupied, without\ndismounting from his horse. When a den is located, if the whelps are\nroaming a considerable distance away, the searcher should circle it,\nmaking plenty of noise to stimulate their return. They should not be\nrushed, however, as they will then scatter and run into any accessible\nhole, where extra effort in digging them out will be required.\nAs a rule, one will not find many living rabbits near a den, so that in a\nrabbit-infested district a scarcity of rabbits may be a clue to a nearby\nden.\nActivities of Whelps\nInexperienced hunters often dig out dens that contain no young. If the\nsearcher listens at the mouth of the den he can usually hear any whelps\ninside, especially when they are quite young, as they are then seldom\nquiet. If a nursing whelp loses hold of a teat, it is rather noisy until\nit regains its hold.\nThe whelps emerge when about 3 weeks old, and then their tracks and other\nsign are easily noted. At this age, they do not whine as young pups do\nbut can be heard moving around when in the den, where, if crowded, they\nsometimes growl. Curiosity to see what is going on outside will drive\nsome to the entrance. When the burrow is steep they are unable to clamber\nout at as early an age as when it is nearly level. Little scratches made\nin their attempt to crawl out will often be noted on the side walls and\nfloor of the den.\nWhen the whelps are about 8 to 10 weeks old the dens are abandoned and\nthe entire family roves about, remaining together until early fall.\nRemoving Whelps from Dens\nThe digging necessary to capture pups depends largely on the nature\nof the soil and the location of the den (fig. 2, B). Some dens are so\nshallow that little digging is required; others cannot be dug out; and\nsome burrows lead straight into a bank or under a hardpan ledge. Much\nwork can be avoided by running a shovel handle or long stick as far as\npossible into the hole to ascertain its direction and then digging a\npit down to the den instead of following the burrow. Where digging is\nextremely difficult, the animals may be disturbed and induced to move,\nfrequently to a den from which they can be more readily taken. Usually\nthey move from a quarter of a mile to a mile away and can easily be\ntracked. If pups can be seen back in a den but cannot be reached in\ndigging, a forked stick or a wire so twisted as to catch in their fur has\nbeen employed to save labor; but if the den or burrow branches and turns,\nsuch an instrument is never wholly satisfactory, as some of the whelps\nare likely to be missed.\nBefore digging is begun, the den entrance should be blocked to prevent\nthe escape of the mother coyote, should she be inside the den. When the\npups are of suckling age she is often in the den with them, but when they\nare old enough to play and be fed outside she seldom goes into it. It is\ndifficult to tell her whereabouts by her tracks, as she backs out of the\nden unless disturbed and the tracks all appear as if made in entering.\nPups are wobbly on their legs when only 2 or 3 weeks old, so that if a\npit 18 inches deep is dug just outside the mouth of the den they fall\ninto it when they attempt to crawl out and are easily captured.\nSmoking the young out of the den is not satisfactory as a rule but is\nsometimes successful. A good smoker can be made by soldering a half-inch\nhose coupling to the spout of a bellows-operated bee smoker and using\nsulphur and pieces of burlap as fuel. A piece of garden hose about 10\nfeet long can be attached and worked down into the den close to the pups,\npreferably behind them. The operator should stand back from the mouth of\nthe den, armed with a good club to dispatch the pups as they come out.\nThrowing a handful of calcium cyanide into a den and stopping the hole\nwith dirt is an effective method of fumigation, but this chemical must be\nhandled with extreme care--as a rule by experienced workers only--as it\nis also dangerous to man.\nA small dog trained to go into dens and bring out the whelps is useful.\nSuch dogs are scarce, but with careful handling, the proper breed\n(wire-haired fox terrier or other terrier) soon learns and enjoys this\nwork. Any dog, however, is a great help, as the parent coyotes become\nmuch alarmed if it nears their den and often set up a howl or series of\nbarks and yelps, thus betraying the fact that a den is near. A dog that\nruns rabbits and hunts several hundred yards from the hunter is better\nthan one that follows at the horse's heels. A small dog is preferable.\nCoyotes are likely to give wide berth to a large one, but will sometimes\nfight and chase a small dog, thus presenting a good target for shots,\nparticularly when they go some distance from the den to fight the\nintruder. For several days after the den has been destroyed females that\nhave lost their whelps frequently fight or chase any dog that comes near.\nA 12-gage pump shotgun loaded with BB shot is good for hunting pups that\nhave left the dens but are still together. They may be found lying under\nsagebrush or among the rocks and are more easily hit with a shotgun than\nwith a rifle when they start to scatter.\nTrapping and Shooting Adults\nA hunter should leave as few traces as possible of his visit to a den. He\nshould carry several traps, with which to try to capture the old coyotes.\nIt is well to set a few traps \"blind\"--that is, without bait or scent--in\nthe trails leading to the den, although some coyotes never return to a\nden after a hunter has visited it. A good set can be made by burying a\ndead whelp, leaving one foot exposed, and setting traps nearby. Holes\nthat have been cleaned out for dens make excellent places for trap sets,\nparticularly for catching females as they go in or out before whelping.\nIn such a situation, two traps should be set blind, one on each side\nof the entrance or mound. Other favorable sites are the beds where old\ncoyotes lie, presumably on guard. These beds may be close to the den or\non a hillside or canyon rim half a mile away. Directions for trapping\ncoyotes are given in Department of Agriculture Leaflet No. 59.\nWhen coyotes are sighted near their dens they are usually quiet, and some\ngood shots may be possible. A hunter should never dismount from his horse\nwhen a coyote stops to watch him, but should wait until it starts moving\nand then dismount on some high spot and be ready to shoot the instant it\nstops again. If it does not stop of its own accord, a low whistle will\noften bait it long enough to offer the hunter a good target.\n                 U. S. GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE: 1937\n     For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, Washington, D. C.\nTranscriber Notes\nIllustrations were moved so as to not split paragraphs.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Den Hunting as a Means of Coyote Control\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1926, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan and the Online\n                      _Warden of Sing Sing Prison_\n                        HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY\n                    _The Riverside Press Cambridge_\n              COPYRIGHT, 1932, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY\nALL RIGHTS RESERVED INCLUDING THE RIGHT TO REPRODUCE THIS BOOK OR PARTS\n                       CAMBRIDGE \u00b7 MASSACHUSETTS\nThe solution of criminal mysteries constitutes one of the most\nabsorbing, possibly the most intriguing forms of mental activity\nexistent. It calls for something more than mere cold intelligence and\nreasoning ability, requiring in addition native perception, intuition,\nand a natural understanding of human behavior under stress of emotion\nand passion. Furthermore, some knowledge of pathological or abnormal\nbehaviorism is a requisite.\nMr. Ripley\u2019s excellently thought-out series of mysteries might be said\nto represent a very adequate cross-section of the problems perennially\nconfronting the law-enforcers and official crime-solvers of the nation.\nThe points of evidence are cleverly assembled and the _nuances_ of\nincrimination are very subtly shaded.\nIt would be well for the reader interested in successfully solving these\nproblems to endeavor to think, not as a detective, but as the criminal\nin the case would think, in order to arrive at a correct solution. I\nhave found that to deal adequately with the criminal after conviction,\nand while in confinement, it is necessary to understand his personal\nproblems. To accomplish this, one must first think as does the criminal,\ndiscover the sequent conclusions upon which he based his anti-social\nactivities, and thereupon make use of these findings to assist him\ntoward rehabilitation.\nIn this novel challenge to amateur criminologists, who suffer from a\ndearth of laboratory specimens upon which to experiment, Mr. Ripley\noffers an excellent opportunity\u2014that of examining and forming\nconclusions upon the more elemental, vital, and dramatic aspects of\nvarious typical criminal situations, without the drawback of fantasy and\nconcocted sordidness, which, for the practical criminologist, takes the\nglamour and color out of this thing called\u2014Crime.\nChief Inspector Kelley, that grizzled veteran of the Detective Bureau,\nwas talking to his nephew, Jim Barry, who had indicated a desire to\nenter the uncrowded field of criminology.\n\u2018The average policeman,\u2019 he said, \u2018looks upon the lay criminologist in\nmuch the same manner as the professional in any field regards the\namateur. Generally speaking, that attitude is justified.\n\u2018In thirty years of police work, however, I have met no one in detective\ncircles, in or out of the force, who so effectively combines theoretical\nknowledge with practical application as Professor Fordney.\n\u2018A man of definite scientific attainments and recognition, he yet\nappreciates that the simple fundamentals of crime detection are\neffective in ninety per cent of all criminal cases. While he has\nunraveled by scientific means some amazing and extremely baffling crimes\nthat otherwise would have gone unsolved, he puts his greatest reliance\non those basic principles upon which rests the whole structure of crime\ndetection.\n\u2018His major theory is that most crimes are simple; that their solution\ncalls only for the exercise of ordinary talents developed to an\nextraordinary degree; that the stupidity of the average criminal\nhimself, and not the brilliance of the detective, is responsible for his\ndetection.\n\u2018In that, I might tell you, he finds complete corroboration in the\nexperience of such an outstanding detective of world-wide reputation as\nSir Melville L. Macnaghten, C.B., late Chief of the Criminal\nInvestigation Department of Scotland Yard. Commenting on the capture of\na particularly vicious murderer, he remarked, \u201cBut for the fact that the\nstudent of criminal history is constantly faced with the stupidity of\nthe criminal, there would be nothing more remarkable in this case than\nthe fatuity of the man who, having murdered solely for personal\ngratifications, and taken every precaution, as he thought, to avoid\ndiscovery, immediately wrote blackmailing letters in which he showed\nguilty knowledge of a secret murder.\u201d\n\u2018Fordney could undoubtedly explain such an inconsistency as this by his\nuncanny knowledge of criminal psychology,\u2019 continued Kelley. \u2018Among\npsychologists his insight into the criminal mind and its reactions is\nappreciated as being authoritative.\n\u2018His greatest interest is his class in criminology at the University. He\nstill finds time, however, to assist actively the police of many cities\nwho frequently consult him on cases they find unusually puzzling.\n\u2018There are instances also in which his part has been that of a\nbystander, where a word of suggestion, modestly given, has frequently\ndisposed of cases before they were brought to the attention of the\npolice.\n\u2018If the Professor is convinced you have the natural qualifications, Jim,\nand a real inclination for work, I can get you into his class. He will\ntake not only a personal, but a fatherly, interest in you, as in the\nrest of his students. You will receive the finest possible training\ngiven by a man of broad understanding and great human sympathies. Out of\nhis vast experience and knowledge, gained in studying crime in all parts\nof the world, he will develop in you those qualities essential to\nsuccess in this field.\n\u2018You will find him a genial, ruddy, kindly man of fifty, with a\nwaistline of forty. There is nothing subtle in his face or manner. A\ncharacterful nose rises above a strong and determined mouth, adorned by\na blond mustache. A pair of keen but smiling blue eyes completes a\ncommonplace face. Although he refuses to admit it, his rapidly thinning\nhair causes him great concern. A bit vain, the old codger, but don\u2019t\ntell him I told you so,\u2019 laughed the Inspector.\n\u2018Scrupulously dressed, he looks like an amiable and highly successful\nbusiness executive. He\u2019s a mixer and thoroughly enjoys the good things\nof life. He views the passing parade with a keen sense of humor, few\nillusions, and a genuine interest in his fellow man. Detests hypocrisy;\nwould rather see ten guilty men acquitted than one innocent man\ncondemned. Recognizes his own fallibility, but knows his own worth and\ndoes not suffer from that abominable social vice, false modesty.\n\u2018You might be interested in knowing his only hobby is that of designing,\nmaking, and repairing toys for children. He\u2019s known to hundreds of them\nas the Toy Man.\n\u2018Though a bachelor, he looks with favor on the ladies, enjoys their\ncompany and is thoroughly sociable.\n\u2018It\u2019s a pleasure and an education to know him. More than once he\u2019s\nhelped your old uncle and absolutely refused the credit that was his,\u2019\nconcluded Inspector Kelley.\nIn the following pages you will find some interesting experiences taken\nfrom the Professor\u2019s case book. They illustrate forcibly his contention\nthat crime is simple and that most criminals are caught, not by any\nsuperhuman qualities of the detective, but by their own ignorance,\nstupidity, or carelessness.\nIn these accounts every fact, every clue necessary to the solution is\ngiven. The answer is in the story itself. You need look nowhere else but\nthere. Each problem has only one possible solution.\nWritten in less than two hundred and sixty words, these little stories\ncan be read in a minute.\nHere is your chance to work on an absolute equality with the Professor;\nto match your wits with his and the criminal\u2019s. You know as much as the\nProfessor does. Now you have an opportunity of proving just how good a\ndetective you are and what poor detectives your friends are.\nThe author hopes you will find them as fascinating reading as they were\nin the telling by the Professor.\n  It Stands to Reason! _A New National Game_                         xix\nHere is a fascinating game of wits for a party of any size. It can be\nplayed in either of two ways.\n1. Select one or more stories from the _Minute Mysteries_ that\nparticularly appeal to you. Make as many copies of each as there are\nguests at the party. Then pass the copies around and allow three\nminutes, say, for your guests to study them. At the end of this time\neach must hand you a written solution, giving the line of reasoning\nwhich was used. You compare these with the solutions at the back of the\nbook; the one who is most often correct is the winner.\n2. Instead of making copies of each story, you may read it aloud, slowly\nand carefully. If any of the listeners so desire, it may be read a\nsecond time. But after this no questions may be asked.\nAfter the period agreed upon has elapsed, each guest writes out his\nsolution as in (1), and hands it to you for comparison with the book.\nMethod number 1 puts the emphasis on one\u2019s powers of reasoning and\nanalysis; method number 2 adds to these a premium on an accurate memory.\nProfessor Fordney was hunting in the Rockies when informed of a tragedy\nat one of the camps. Thinking he might be of some help, he went over,\nand, after introducing himself, Butler, the victim\u2019s companion, told him\nof the accident.\n\u2018When Marshall hadn\u2019t returned to camp at nine o\u2019clock last night, I was\na bit worried because he didn\u2019t know these mountains. There wasn\u2019t a\nstar out and it was dark and moonless, so I decided to look around for\nhim. We\u2019re five miles from anyone, you know.\n\u2018Putting more wood on the fire, I set out. After searching for an hour,\nI was coming up the slope of a ravine when I saw a pair of eyes shining\nout at me in the dark.\n\u2018Calling twice, and getting no answer, I fired, thinking it was a\nmountain lion. Imagine my horror when I reached the spot, struck a\nmatch, and saw I had nearly blown the head off Marshall. A terrible\nexperience!\n\u2018I carried his body back to camp and then walked to the nearest house to\nreport the accident.\u2019\n\u2018How far from camp did you find Marshall?\u2019 asked Fordney.\n\u2018About a quarter of a mile.\u2019\n\u2018I see your right hand is bandaged. How do you manage to shoot with it?\u2019\n\u2018Oh, I use either hand.\u2019\n\u2018Mind if I look at the gun?\u2019\n\u2018Not at all,\u2019 said Butler, handing it over.\n\u2018H\u2019m, European make, I see. Had it long?\u2019\n\u2018No, it\u2019s rather new.\u2019\n\u2018Why did you deliberately murder Marshall?\u2019 demanded Fordney abruptly\n... \u2018for that\u2019s what you did.\u2019\n     How did the Professor know Butler had murdered his companion?\n\u2018I couldn\u2019t wait to be announced,\u2019 said George Collins, Florida\u2019s\nforemost prohibition agent, and a great wit, as he stepped into the\nProfessor\u2019s office.\n\u2018How long are you going to be in New York?\u2019 asked Fordney, as the two\nfriends shook hands.\n\u2018I\u2019m due back in Miami now,\u2019 replied Collins, \u2018but I wanted to\ncongratulate you on your success in the Hicks murder case. I wish\ninteresting things like that would happen in my game. However, I did\nhave an amusing experience last December.\n\u2018Sneaky Joe, a stool-pigeon, tipped me off to a huge still he said was\nworking about forty miles from headquarters. A narrow road through dense\nwoods led to the spot. Arriving there, I found an old dilapidated shanty\nscreened by trees. As I entered the woods, I smelled alcohol. Sneaky Joe\nwas right, after all, I thought, as I drove up to the shanty.\n\u2018I got out and peered cautiously around, but the place seemed deserted.\nAfter opening the door and entering the house, however, I knew liquor\nwas not being made there. I searched the woods, but found nothing. As I\nwas driving back along the road at a good rate, I discovered the alcohol\nI smelled was coming from my own radiator! Imagine my chagrin!\u2019\nThe Professor laughed heartily and said to his friend, \u2018Stay over for my\nbirthday party tonight, the ladies would love to hear that yarn of\nyours.\u2019\n      What did the Professor find preposterous in Collins\u2019s story?\n\u2018Crowley was an eccentric and taciturn old fellow, but I liked him,\u2019\nremarked Fordney. \u2018When he was found dead last December, I took a\npersonal interest in the case. Harold Bronson, his last known caller,\nhad this to say of his visit:\n\u2018\u201cAfter leaving word at my hotel where I might be reached if wanted, I\narrived at Crowley\u2019s suburban estate shortly after five o\u2019clock. I found\nhim seated in the dusk at the end of his library table. Courteously\nenough for him, he waved me into a chair at the other end and invited me\nto dine with him at eight o\u2019clock. Reaching for my cigarettes, I\nremembered that Crowley did not permit smoking.\n\u2018\u201cHis principal contributions to our discussion were his usual nods of\napproval, grunts, and monosyllables. Very sparing of words, was Mr.\nCrowley.\n\u2018\u201cAbout seven o\u2019clock the telephone rang and he asked me to answer it.\nIt was my wife asking me to return at once to see an unexpected visitor.\nFinishing the conversation, I returned to my chair and, after I\nexplained the call, Crowley nodded assent to my request to leave\nimmediately.\n\u2018\u201cOn the way out, as the lights had not been turned on, I bumped my\nhead, which explains this bruise. Just as I reached the door, he called\nafter me\u2014\u2018See you tomorrow at ten.\u2019 He was certainly all right when I\nleft him shortly after seven.\u201d\n\u2018Although Bronson\u2019s telephone alibi was later proved sound, he had\nhardly finished his story before I was convinced he was implicated,\u2019\nconcluded Fordney.\n                  What directed suspicion to Bronson?\n\u2018I\u2019m going to the theater now,\u2019 Bob Kewley told Professor Fordney at\ntheir club. \u2018I wish you\u2019d spend the evening with Uncle John. He\u2019s been\nworried lately.\u2019\nUpon reaching the Kewley home an hour later, Fordney found the butler in\nan agitated state.\n\u2018After ordering coffee, Mr. Kewley locked himself in his library an hour\nago, sir. When I rapped on the door just now, he didn\u2019t answer.\u2019\nThe two men forced the lock and found John Kewley on the floor, an empty\nstrychnine bottle at his side. The terrace door was open. After a\ncareful examination, Fordney returned home. A few hours later, Bob\nKewley entered his living-room.\n\u2018Thought I\u2019d stop in on my way home. Don\u2019t you think Uncle John looks\nworried?\u2019\n\u2018Your uncle, Bob, is dead. Strychnine. Your butler and I found him lying\non the floor, but were too late to save him.\u2019\n\u2018How horrible, Fordney! Why was the library door locked, do you\nsuppose?\u2019\n\u2018That puzzles me. Has your butler been with you long?\u2019\n\u2018For years,\u2019 replied Bob, his head buried in his hands.\n\u2018Well, you\u2019re a wealthy man now.\u2019\n\u2018What of it? Uncle John meant more to me than all the money in the\nworld.\u2019\n\u2018I wish I could believe that,\u2019 replied Fordney. \u2018You\u2019ll need a better\nalibi than those,\u2019 pointing to the ticket stubs Bob was nervously\nfingering.\n           How had Kewley aroused the Professor\u2019s suspicions?\n\u2018I haven\u2019t the faintest idea why I was kidnaped,\u2019 said Johnson to\nProfessor Fordney, an hour after he returned home. \u2018I never miss Sunday\nevening services, you know, so I\u2019m afraid I haven\u2019t much time to discuss\nit now.\u2019\n\u2018Oh, just a brief account of your experience is all that is necessary,\u2019\nremarked the Professor.\nSo Johnson proceeded.\n\u2018I was walking along Burnham Street about 2 A.M. Friday when two masked\nmen, with drawn guns, ordered me into a blue sedan. I was blindfolded\nand gagged. After driving for about an hour, I was led into a house and\ndown some stairs to a small room, where they removed my blindfold and\ngag. They took off my outer clothing and hung it on a chair. Then they\nquestioned me at length about the Shirley case and refused to believe I\nknew nothing of it.\n\u2018Exasperated, they threatened to kill me, and when I remonstrated, one\nof them hit me on the head with a black-jack and I went down\nunconscious.\n\u2018The next thing I knew was when I came to with a terrific headache. I\nlay still for a few minutes and, hearing nothing but the ticking of my\nwatch, I cautiously got to my feet and groped for the door, as the room\nwas in darkness. Before I could locate it, two men, still masked,\nentered, turned on the light, apologized profusely for the treatment I\nhad received, and said they had mistaken me for someone else. Then they\ngave me something to eat, blindfolded me again, and drove me to within a\nblock of my home, still apologizing for the mistake. Before I could\nremove my blindfold after getting out of the car, it had sped away.\n\u2018It\u2019s all very mysterious to me. I can\u2019t make anything of it.\u2019\n\u2018I won\u2019t give you away, Johnson,\u2019 smiled the Professor. \u2018Your wife\nundoubtedly believes your yarn, but you\u2019d better think up a better one\nthe next time.\u2019\n  What flaw did the Professor find in Johnson\u2019s story which proved the\n\u2018I had just stepped behind that screen near the door to wash my hands\nwhen a man, gun in hand, entered the room and stood motionless for a few\nseconds,\u2019 said Hyde. \u2018Apparently satisfied no one was here, he walked to\nthe desk over there by the window. As he rummaged through the papers in\nthe drawer, I hastily dialed headquarters, leaving the receiver off the\nhook, trusting you would trace the call. I was afraid to talk because I\nwas unarmed and he looked like a desperate fellow.\u2019\n\u2018You say he took nothing but a valuable formula from your desk?\u2019\ninquired the Professor.\n\u2018That\u2019s all; he touched nothing else.\u2019\n\u2018Rather careless to leave such an important paper lying about like that,\nwasn\u2019t it?\u2019\n\u2018Well, I suppose so, though it was only a copy. I sold the original to\nSchmitz yesterday for twenty thousand dollars and I intended to destroy\nthe duplicate tonight.\u2019\n\u2018Would that formula be valuable to anyone else?\u2019\n\u2018Yes, it would be worth twice as much to Schmitz\u2019s competitors.\u2019\n\u2018Why didn\u2019t you sell it to them in the first place, then?\u2019\n\u2018Schmitz financed me while I was perfecting the formula, so I thought it\nonly right to sell it to him, even though I could have got more for it\nfrom the other firm.\u2019\n\u2018As this is such a small, bright room and you observed so much through\nthat crack in the screen,\u2019 said Fordney sarcastically, \u2018you should be\nable to give us a _very_ good description of the intruder.\u2019\n\u2018Oh, I can do that,\u2019 Hyde replied, with assurance. \u2018He was a big fellow\nabout six feet tall and weighed around two hundred pounds. He had\njet-black hair, swarthy complexion, an unusually large nose, and a\nvicious-looking mouth. As he left obviously unaware of my presence, I\nnoticed he had a big rip in the back of his blue coat.\u2019\n\u2018Well, Hyde, as part of your story is incredible, you can\u2019t expect me to\nbelieve any of it.\u2019\n                    Why did the Professor say this?\n\u2018Twenty-two days of this hot, dry spell,\u2019 groaned Professor Fordney. \u2018I\ncan\u2019t remember a stretch like it.\u2019\n\u2018Tell us about the Greer case, Professor,\u2019 urged the rocking-chair\nbrigade. \u2018It\u2019ll take your mind off the heat.\u2019\n\u2018Well, you know the salient facts. The body of Irene Greer, lying on the\nrailroad right-of-way, was found half a mile from here by a fishing\nparty at 6 A.M. day before yesterday. It could be seen that she was a\nbeautiful girl despite the tousled hair matted with mud and a nasty\nbruise on her cheek. Her flaming red dress was torn and dirty. She had\non shoes, but no stockings. Incidentally, her clothes were of the finest\nquality. Her body indicated that she had received a terrific beating,\npoor girl.\n\u2018From appearances she had been placed on the track with the expectation\nthat she would be struck by a train and identification made impossible.\nNo doubt she was unconscious when this was done, but she must have\nrevived temporarily and crawled to the gravel right-of-way before a\ntrain came along. There she died.\n\u2018A peculiar circumstance is that, while her body was bruised and\ntwisted, there were no marks on her throat to indicate strangulation,\nyet Dr. Bridewell says that was the cause of death.\n\u2018She was found in a desolate spot. Oh, yes, she was probably strangled\nwith a scarf which, employed in a certain manner, would leave no outward\ntrace.\n\u2018Now you folks should know how I learned Irene Greer was attacked\nelsewhere and then brought to the vicinity where she was found,\u2019 smiled\nthe Professor.\nWhen Professor Fordney reached Gifford\u2019s office, he found a policeman\nalready there.\n\u2018Gifford\u2019s dead,\u2019 he was told. \u2018What brings you here?\u2019\n\u2018He telephoned me a few minutes ago; said he had been shot; then I had a\nhard time understanding him. This street is on your beat, isn\u2019t it?\u2019\n\u2018Yes. I heard the shot when I was in Smith\u2019s cigar store. It took me a\nwhile to locate it. The door was locked and I had to break in.\u2019\nAs they walked into an inner office, they saw Gifford\u2019s body, a bullet\nthrough the heart, lying in a pool of blood.\nFordney stooped to pick up a revolver.\n\u2018It\u2019s an easy jump to the ground,\u2019 observed the policeman, who was\nstanding by an open window.\n\u2018Did you know, sir,\u2019 he added, \u2018that Gifford has been troubled lately by\nblackmailers?\u2019\n\u2018Yes. The last time I saw him, he told me he had been shot at a couple\nof weeks ago.\u2019\nFordney walked over to the door and found the lock was sprung, but the\nkey still in it.\n\u2018I suppose,\u2019 ventured the policeman, \u2018that the blackmailers got him.\nThey must have locked the door from the inside when they entered, shot\nhim, and then jumped out the window.\u2019\n\u2018No,\u2019 said Fordney, who was examining the key he had removed from the\nlock. \u2018There weren\u2019t any murderers in here. Gifford committed suicide.\u2019\n            Why was the Professor sure that it was suicide?\n                    _They Usually Forget Something_\n\u2018Here is a good illustration of the old bromide that the smartest\ncriminal leaves some clue in even the most carefully planned crime,\u2019\nmused Professor Fordney.\n\u2018While in Colshire, a beautiful little English village, I was asked by\nthe local police to assist them in a rather puzzling affair.\n\u2018Suspicion of a particularly brutal murder had been directed toward an\nilliterate underworld character. He was accused of sending the following\nnote found in the murdered man\u2019s pocket:\n  _sir john when i last seen you i sed i will kill you if the muney\n  ain\u2019t here by mundy; all of it_\n\u2018When Wellington, the Chief Constable, asked my opinion, I told him the\nwriter of the note, and therefore probably the murderer, was obviously\nan educated man. After explaining why I was sure of that, he agreed with\nme.\n\u2018An odd sort of case. The murderer was found to be an extremely wealthy\nAmerican whose sister had married the murdered man\u2019s brother.\u2019\n\u2018Well,\u2019 laughed Bill Cargo to whom Fordney had been speaking. \u2018It\u2019s\ngetting too involved for me. I can\u2019t figure it out.\u2019\n      How had Fordney determined the American was an educated man?\n                     _The Professor Gives a Lesson_\n\u2018Cardoni came into Inspector Kelley\u2019s office yesterday,\u2019 said Fordney to\nhis Criminology Class.\n\u2018\u201cI want to speak to you alone, Chief,\u201d he said, eyeing me with frank\nsuspicion.\n\u2018\u201cIt\u2019s all right. Go ahead,\u201d said Kelley.\n\u2018\u201cI\u2019ve got some information on the Curtis kidnapers. How much is it\nworth?\u201d\n\u2018\u201cThat all depends. Let\u2019s hear the story.\u201d\n\u2018\u201cThey\u2019re in one of my old buildings, down on the East Side. Three men\nand a woman. All you\u2019ve got to do, Chief, is to take this, walk in an\u2019\nsurprise \u2019em,\u201d said our informer, tossing a Yale key on Kelley\u2019s desk.\n\u201cThey rented a room from me about a week ago.\u201d\n\u2018\u201cSounds much too easy, Cardoni. I want something more definite than\nthat. What makes you think they\u2019re the kidnapers?\u201d\n\u2018\u201cI heard them having an argument as I was doing some repair work in the\nhall. One of the guys threatened to squeal if he didn\u2019t get a bigger\ncut. It sounded interestin\u2019, so I peeked through the keyhole. They were\nsittin\u2019 at a table in the middle of the room on which there was a stack\nof money.\u201d\n\u2018\u201cYour story doesn\u2019t yet show they had any connection with the Curtis\nkidnaping,\u201d Kelley said.\n\u201cNO? Well, last night I heard them mention \u2018Curtis\u2019 several times. And\nthat ain\u2019t all,\u201d continued Cardoni, with a triumphant air. \u201cHere\u2019s a\ncode message one of them must have dropped. Well, Chief, how much do I\nget?\u201d\n\u201cGet out!\u201d hollered Kelley as he made a pass at Cardoni.\u2019\n                Why was the informer treated so rudely?\n\u2018Let\u2019s hear your story,\u2019 said Inspector Kelley to Policeman Kirk, as\nFordney dropped into a comfortable chair at Headquarters.\n\u2018The neighbors were worried because they hadn\u2019t seen old lady Brill\nabout for a couple of days and asked me to investigate.\n\u2018Getting no answer to my ring, I broke open the front door, ran\nupstairs, and, not seeing her, ran down and through the hall, unlocked\nthe kitchen door, and found her on the floor, a bullet through her heart\nand a gun beside her. The windows and the doors to the porch and cellar\nwere locked on the inside and nothing seemed to be disturbed.\n\u2018Looked like suicide to me. However, I learned her nephew was at the\nhouse yesterday about the time the doctor said she died, so I brought\nhim in,\u2019 concluded Kirk.\n\u2018Why did you run upstairs before examining the lower floor?\u2019 asked\nKelley.\n\u2018Thought I heard a noise up there, sir,\u2019 replied the policeman.\n\u2018Any finger-prints on the gun?\u2019 inquired Fordney.\n\u2018Just those of the old lady,\u2019 answered Kelley.\n\u2018I have a key to the house,\u2019 interrupted the nephew. \u2018I went in\nyesterday, called to her, but she didn\u2019t answer, so I thought she\u2019d gone\nout.\u2019\n\u2018Did you go upstairs?\u2019 asked the Professor.\n\u2018Yes, I ran up there, calling her name, but came right down again and\nleft immediately.\u2019\n\u2018Well, Kelley, of course it\u2019s murder\u2014as you probably know. I suppose\nyou\u2019ll hold this fellow?\u2019\n\u2018I certainly intend to,\u2019 replied the Inspector.\n          How did Fordney know the old lady had been murdered?\n\u2018Baklioff, in person, combined with \u201cGrand Hotel,\u201d had packed the\nParamount,\u2019 said the Professor. \u2018Every seat was occupied and\nstanding-room was at a premium. What an opening it was!\u2019 he continued.\n\u2018As the picture neared its end and the orchestra, under the magnificent\nleadership of Baklioff, reached the climax of Mascagni\u2019s \u201cCavalleria\nRusticana,\u201d a shot rang out.\n\u2018Inspector Kelley who accompanied me, was immediately on his feet\nbellowing, \u201cLights!\u201d They were quickly turned on and the picture\nstopped. Warning everyone to keep his seat, we started for the back of\nthe theater, when a man\u2019s body slumped out of a seat and fell almost at\nour feet. A hurried examination disclosed he had been shot in the back\nof the head and that he was an extremely tall man.\n\u2018Leaving Kelley to look after things, I hurried to the operator\u2019s booth.\nWhen almost there, I heard another shot and knew I was too late.\nEntering the small compartment, hung under the balcony, I found the\noperator with a bullet through his temple and a smoking revolver by his\nside.\n\u2018\u201cNot much to this,\u201d I remarked, as Kelley joined me.\n\u2018\u201cI wonder if he got the right man,\u201d commented the Inspector. \u201cI don\u2019t\nunderstand how he could have made such a splendid shot under the\ncircumstances. Amazing!\u201d\u2019\n\u2018Was the dead man sitting in an aisle seat?\u2019 interrupted one of the\nclass.\n\u2018Yes,\u2019 replied Fordney.\n\u2018Gee, that\u2019s a good one, Professor, but I know now the one thing wrong\nwith your story,\u2019 said the student.\n\u2018Hello, Smith,\u2019 said Professor Fordney as he opened the door. \u2018What\u2019s\nup?\u2019\n\u2018Uncle Fred\u2019s house has been robbed. He had some negotiable bonds in the\nlibrary safe and told me to stick close to home until he returned from\nNew York.\u2019\n\u2018Were they stolen?\u2019 interrogated Fordney.\n\u2018I\u2019m afraid so. I was up in my bedroom about twenty minutes ago when I\nheard a noise. I rushed downstairs just in time to see a man dash out of\nthe library. I ran after him and, as I passed the door, I noticed the\nsafe was open, so I suppose he got the bonds. He jumped into a waiting\nautomobile and I trailed him in my car which, fortunately, was standing\nin front of the house, but he got away from me.\u2019\n\u2018Did you get his license number?\u2019\n\u2018No. Couldn\u2019t see it. When I lost him in the traffic, I drove right over\nhere.\u2019\n\u2018Didn\u2019t you keep the house locked while you were upstairs?\u2019\n\u2018Yes, but the burglar chiseled open a cellar window.\u2019\n\u2018Well, let\u2019s go over and have a look,\u2019 suggested Fordney.\nWhen they reached the Smith home, they found the bonds gone.\n\u2018Did you lock the front door when you ran out of the house?\u2019\n\u2018Why\u2014er,\u2019 replied Smith nervously, \u2018the door locks automatically. I\ndon\u2019t know what Uncle Fred will say when he gets back.\u2019\n\u2018He\u2019ll say plenty if you tell him the story you told me,\u2019 interrupted\nthe Professor. \u2018I suggest you put the bonds back.\u2019\n              Where did Smith make his incriminating slip?\nProfessor Fordney and three of his friends were enjoying their weekly\n\u2018get together\u2019 at the University Club.\n\u2018Professor,\u2019 said Patrie, \u2018tell us something about that Yelpir murder\ncase you were working on.\u2019\n\u2018Well, gentlemen,\u2019 he replied, in his retiring manner, \u2018as you know,\nYelpir\u2019s affairs were common knowledge, and the fact that several women\nhad reasons to wish him dead complicated matters a bit.\n\u2018His body was found in his study, which opened on to a corridor. At the\nother end of the corridor and directly opposite it a staircase led to\nthe servants\u2019 quarters above.\n\u2018Diana Lane, a house guest of Mrs. Yelpir at the time of the murder, was\nquestioned, and she appeared nervous. She insisted, however, that she\nhad been in her room at the time Yelpir was slain.\n\u2018Nora, a servant, testified that, as she was descending the stairs\nleading from the servants\u2019 quarters, at midnight, she saw Diana Lane,\nwearing her famous emerald pendant and dressed in an enticing black\nneglig\u00e9e, walk down the lighted corridor to Yelpir\u2019s room. She said she\nfollowed a minute later and heard Diana and Yelpir violently quarreling.\nShe returned to the servants\u2019 quarters and, as she opened the door of\nher room, she heard a shot.\n\u2018In the face of such evidence, Miss Lane admitted having gone to the\nstudy at the time, but protested her innocence, declaring she had\nremained only a minute.\n\u2018While Miss Lane was acquitted, you know, her reputation was not above\nreproach. Even so, I knew without further investigation that Nora\u2019s\ntestimony was maliciously false.\u2019\n                      How did the Professor know?\n\u2018I\u2019ve often remarked,\u2019 said Professor Fordney, in an expansive mood,\n\u2018how very difficult it is to fake an alibi without someone\u2019s assistance.\nA case in point is a messy affair we cleared up recently.\n\u2018I didn\u2019t definitely suspect Picus when I happened to bump into him at\nthe Fourth-of-July parade, the morning after an acquaintance of his had\nbeen found dead under suspicious circumstances. I rather casually asked\nhim where he had been and what he had been doing the previous afternoon\nabout four o\u2019clock, the apparent time of the man\u2019s death. He related the\nfollowing story:\n\u2018\u201cI took my sailboat out about noon yesterday. It was great on the\nwater. Around three o\u2019clock, however, when I was perhaps ten miles out,\nthe wind died down completely. There wasn\u2019t a breath of air, and I knew\nthat, unless I could attract some boat, I was in for an uncomfortable\ntime. Remembering that the international distress signal is a flag flown\nupside down, I ran mine up to the top of the mast in that manner. Thank\nGod it was a clear day.\n\u2018\u201cIn about an hour the steamer Leone hove to, and I went aboard her\nafter securing my boat with a towline. The Captain said he had seen my\ndistress signal about four miles away and would put me ashore at\nGladsome Landing. He did so, and, as there was no one about, I hailed a\npassing motorist who gave me a lift back to town. Imagine my surprise\nwhen I read in the paper this morning that the Leone had been sunk in a\nstorm after putting me ashore, and all hands had been lost!\u201d\n\u2018While I knew,\u2019 remarked the Professor, \u2018that the Leone had been sunk\nwith all on board, after hearing Picus\u2019s story I immediately arrested\nhim on suspicion of murder.\u2019\n                   What was wrong with Picus\u2019s alibi?\nInspector Kelley and Professor Fordney were seated in the former\u2019s\noffice when Policeman Fanning and his charge entered. After Fanning\u2019s\nhurried explanation, Jasper told his story:\n\u2018I\u2019m the ticket taker on a merry-go-round at Coney Island. This bein\u2019\nSaturday, we had a big crowd. The trip was almost over when I reached\nout, saying, \u201cTicket, please,\u201d and I see this woman sittin\u2019 up in the\nmiddle of the chariot with that terrible look on her face. She didn\u2019t\nanswer, and when I shook her, she slumped over in the corner. I\nscreamed, jumped off, and ran for the manager. I got blood on my hand\nwhen I shook her.\n\u2018Yes, sir, she\u2019d ridden a couple of times and I seen the man she was\nwith on the two rides before,\u2019 continued Jasper, giving a detailed\ndescription of him. \u2018I happened to see him jump off just before I got to\nher.\u2019\n\u2018The doctor said she had been stabbed through the heart and had died\ninstantly?\u2019 queried Professor Fordney.\n\u2018That\u2019s right, sir,\u2019 replied the policeman.\n\u2018It seems strange, Jasper,\u2019 remarked the Professor, \u2018that you can give\nsuch a good description of this woman\u2019s companion on two previous rides\nwhen you just \u201chappened\u201d to notice him jump off. Does the merry-go-round\never make you dizzy?\u2019\n\u2018No, sir; I\u2019m used to it.\u2019\n\u2018Well, Inspector,\u2019 said Fordney, turning to his friend, \u2018I suppose you\nare going to hold this man?\u2019\n\u2018Certainly,\u2019 replied Kelley. \u2018That\u2019s just about the dizziest story I\u2019ve\nheard in a long time.\u2019\n              What justified the police in holding Jasper?\n\u2018Receiving no reply to my ring and finding the door unlocked, I went\nin,\u2019 said Albert Lynch. \u2018Dawson was seated at his desk shot through the\nhead. Seeing he was dead, I called the police and remained here.\u2019\n\u2018Touch anything, Lynch?\u2019 asked Professor Fordney.\n\u2018No, sir, nothing.\u2019\n\u2018Positive of that, are you?\u2019\n\u2018Absolutely, sir.\u2019\nThe Professor made a careful examination of the desk and found Dawson\nhad been writing a letter at the bottom of which and covered by the dead\nman\u2019s hand, was a penned message: \u2018A. L. did thi\u2014\u2014\u2019 and weakly trailed\noff.\nFurther examination disclosed several kinds of writing-paper, a pen-tray\nholding the recently used pen, inkwell, eraser, stamps, letters, and\nbills. The gun from which the shot had been fired was on the floor by\nthe side of the chair, and the bullet was found embedded in the divan.\nAfter a few questions, Fordney was quickly convinced of Lynch\u2019s\ninnocence.\n\u2018What do you make of it, Professor?\u2019 inquired Inspector Kelley.\n\u2018Though the scrawled note certainly looks like Dawson\u2019s writing, I am\nsure an expert will find it isn\u2019t. I\u2019m not surprised to find the gun\nfree of prints. Pretty thorough job, this. Good thing for you, Lynch,\nand for us too, that the murderer was careless about something.\u2019\n\u2018Right,\u2019 said Kelley. \u2018But you aren\u2019t such a wise old owl, Fordney. This\nis like the Morrow case we handled. Remember?\u2019\n\u2018Good for you, Inspector,\u2019 laughed the Professor.\n How did both men so quickly determine that the incriminating note had\n\u2018A bad mess, this,\u2019 said Professor Fordney to Sergeant Reynolds, as they\nviewed the bloody scene.\n\u2018Yeah, I wish these guys wouldn\u2019t be quite so thorough when they bump\nthemselves off,\u2019 replied Reynolds as he set grimly to work.\nA man with his throat cut, the head almost severed, sat slumped over a\nblood-spattered desk. What a horrible sight! His bloodstained coat flung\nacross the room, the razor! the shirt! the tie! his hands! covered with\nblood, made a ghastly and awesome picture framed by the flickering light\nof a dying candle.\nAfter turning on the lights, Fordney bent down to take a closer look at\nthe man.\n\u2018His face seems vaguely familiar, Sergeant, but I can\u2019t recall at the\nmoment where I\u2019ve seen him. How long has he been dead, Doctor?\u2019\n\u2018About two hours,\u2019 replied the police surgeon.\nAt this moment the telephone rang. The caller, upon hearing Fordney\u2019s\nvoice, immediately disconnected.\n\u2018Odd,\u2019 murmured the Professor as he hung up the receiver. \u2018I remember\nnow where I saw this man. His name is Thompson.\u2019\nAs he glanced around, he observed that the alarm-clock on the dresser\nhad stopped just two hours and fifteen minutes before.\nThe telephone rang again and Fordney motioned Reynolds to answer.\n\u2018Hello!\u2019 he said. \u2018Mr. Thompson stepped out for a few minutes. Leave\nyour number. I\u2019ll have him call you.\u2019 The man at the other end inquired\nwho was speaking and, when Reynolds replied, \u2018A friend,\u2019 he hung up.\n\u2018Better trace that call, Sergeant; this is murder,\u2019 said Fordney.\n\u2018What!\u2019 exclaimed Reynolds. \u2018Still looks like suicide to me!\u2019\n           Do you agree with Reynolds or the Professor? Why?\nClaudia Mason, beautiful and popular young actress, was found lying\nacross the chaise-longue in her elaborately furnished dressing-room,\ndead from a bullet wound in the temple.\nShe had sold her jewels and, with an heroic gesture, partially paid her\nmany debts.\nNear Claudia\u2019s right hand, Sergeant Reynolds picked up the revolver with\nwhich she had been killed, and after careful examination said:\n\u2018No finger-prints, of course. Gosh, Fordney, there\u2019s two rocks she\ndidn\u2019t sell,\u2019 he exclaimed, pointing to a large emerald on her left hand\nand a diamond on her right.\n\u2018Call Maria, her maid. I want to find out who this fellow is,\u2019 said the\nProfessor, nodding toward a man\u2019s photograph signed, Juan. \u2018This was\nevidently addressed to him,\u2019 he said, passing over a note which read:\n  Dear Juan:\n  I am so despondent. The money from my jewels was not nearly enough.\n\u2018Not many of these dames kill themselves over their debts,\u2019 muttered\nReynolds as he went to call Maria.\nThe maid entered the room, sobbing and hysterical.\n\u2018Who is Juan?\u2019 asked Professor Fordney.\n\u2018He\u2019s the leading man in the show.\u2019\n\u2018Why wasn\u2019t this note delivered to him?\u2019\n\u2018I forgot it.\u2019\n\u2018You found her?\u2019\n\u2018Yes. When I came to help her dress she\u2014was\u2014like that!\u2019\n\u2018Is Juan in his dressing-room now?\u2019\n\u2018I believe so.\u2019\nWhen Reynolds brought him into Claudia\u2019s room, he dropped to his knees\nbeside the dead girl.\n\u2018My God! She\u2019s killed herself!\u2019\n\u2018No, she hasn\u2019t, young man. She was murdered,\u2019 said the Professor.\n                  Why was he sure it was not suicide?\n\u2018I was working late, preparing an advertising campaign,\u2019 continued\nFellows whom Professor Fordney had been questioning. \u2018About ten-fifteen\nI heard the outer office door click. Being unarmed, I hurriedly turned\nout the lights in my office and waited breathlessly, as there was a\nlarge sum of money in the safe. I knew my chances of attracting\nattention from the tenth floor were small, so, reaching for the\ntelephone, I hastily dialed Headquarters and told them in a low voice to\nsend help immediately. Then, creeping noiselessly to the open safe, I\ngently shut the door, twirled the combination, and crawled behind that\nbig old-fashioned desk.\n\u2018Shortly afterward the robber entered my office, flashed his light over\nthe place, and went to the safe. He had it open in a few minutes, took\nthe money, and left. That\u2019s all I know about it.\u2019\n\u2018What time is it now, Mr. Fellows?\u2019 inquired Fordney.\n\u2018Why, I haven\u2019t a watch.\u2019\n\u2018How, then, did you know it was about ten-fifteen when you heard the\ndoor click?\u2019\n\u2018I had gone next door for a sandwich and as I left I glanced at the\nrestaurant clock and noticed it was ten-five. I had been back about five\nminutes,\u2019 replied Fellows.\n\u2018You say the burglar was masked,\u2019 continued the Professor. \u2018How did you\nknow it?\u2019\n\u2018As he focused his flashlight on the combination and bent over, I saw\nthe mask,\u2019 returned Fellows belligerently.\n\u2018Very interesting,\u2019 smiled Fordney, \u2018but you\u2019ll have to be a better liar\nthan that, Fellows, to fool me.\u2019\n                Where did the Professor detect the lie?\n\u2018There was hardly a breath of air as we sat on the terrace enjoying\ntea,\u2019 reminisced Professor Fordney. \u2018Rocca excused himself, saying he\nwished to telephone. Shortly after he entered the house, we heard a\nshot. I rushed into the drawing-room and found Rocca, smoking gun in\nhand, staring dumbly at the chair in front of the open window which held\nthe huddled body of Chase.\n\u2018A hasty examination disclosed the telephone receiver off the hook, a\nsingle cigarette stub of Rocca\u2019s brand in the ash-tray, a bullet-hole in\nthe gauze curtain six inches below the window-sill, and Rocca\u2019s open\ncigarette-case in Chase\u2019s lap. His replies to my hastily put questions\nwere evasive. Inspector Kelley arrived while I was talking and took up\nthe questioning.\u2019\n\u2018\u201cDid you use the telephone?\u201d\n\u2018\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u2018\u201cYou came directly to this room and did not leave it?\u201d\n\u2018\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u2018\u201cChase was engaged to your sister?\u201d\n\u2018\u201cYes, he was.\u201d\n\u2018\u201cDid you offer Chase a cigarette?\u201d\n\u2018\u201cI did.\u201d\n\u2018\u201cHow did that dent get in your cigarette-case?\u201d\n\u2018\u201cI dropped it about a week ago.\u201d\n\u2018\u201cDid you shoot Chase?\u201d\n\u2018\u201cI refuse to answer that question.\u201d\n\u2018At this point the doctor arrived and located the bullet in Chase\u2019s\nbody. Rocca then admitted Chase had been shot with the gun found in his\nown hand, but stubbornly refused to say anything more.\n\u2018\u201cWhat\u2019s your opinion, Professor?\u201d Kelley asked.\n\u2018\u201cWell,\u201d I replied, \u201cRocca is obviously shielding someone. We have\npositive proof he came directly here and has not left this room. That,\ncombined with the other evidence discovered, absolutely exonerates\nRocca.\"\u2019\n          How did the Professor know Rocca had not shot Chase?\n\u2018You say that as your butler called for help, a stranger, by the name of\nDudley, was passing the house and rushed in?\u2019\n\u2018That\u2019s right,\u2019 Owings corroborated, as the two men sat in Fordney\u2019s\nstudy. \u2018It was rather late last Friday evening before I was ready to\nleave town for the week-end, and as Stuben, the butler, wasn\u2019t feeling\nwell, I told him to stay upstairs and that I would lock up when I left.\n\u2018I had some diamonds in the safe, so he said he wouldn\u2019t leave the house\nuntil I returned,\u2019 continued Owings.\n\u2018About eleven that night, he heard a humming noise and, having the\ndiamonds in mind, ran downstairs to investigate. Finding the wall safe\nopen and the jewels gone, he let out a scream for help.\n\u2018Stuben has been with me for years, Professor, and I have implicit faith\nin him.\u2019\n\u2018Did Dudley see anyone leave?\u2019 asked Fordney.\n\u2018No; the robber or robbers must have left by the back door, as Dudley\nwas right in front of the house when he heard Stuben\u2019s call for help,\u2019\nreplied Owings. \u2018Both men say the room smelled of cigarette smoke, so\nthe burglars must have just left.\u2019\n\u2018Was the back door unlocked?\u2019 inquired the Professor.\n\u2018No, it was closed. It has a device which locks it automatically from\nthe outside when it\u2019s pulled to.\u2019\n\u2018Well, you\u2019d better swear out a warrant for your butler and Dudley,\u2019\nsaid Fordney. \u2018I\u2019m sure they know where your diamonds are. Long service,\nyou know, isn\u2019t necessarily a pledge of loyalty.\u2019\n                   Why did Fordney so advise Owings?\n                     _Before the Coroner\u2019s Inquest_\n\u2018Let\u2019s run over your testimony before the inquest opens,\u2019 said Fordney.\n\u2018All right,\u2019 replied Curry.\n\u2018About three-thirty on Thursday, I got into the boat in front of my\ncottage and rowed upstream. About fifty yards below the bridge, I looked\nup and saw Scott and Dawson going across it in opposite directions. As\nthe two men passed, Scott reached out, grabbed Dawson, and hit him in\nthe jaw. Then he pulled a gun, and, in the scuffle that followed, Scott\nfell off the bridge. He dropped into the water, but, as the current was\nstrong, by the time I reached the spot, he had sunk. When I finally\npulled him into the boat, he was dead.\u2019\n\u2018Was it a clear day?\u2019 asked Fordney.\n\u2018Well, it had been showering early in the afternoon, but the sun was\nshining then.\u2019\n\u2018Are you positive Scott got that bruise by hitting his head on the rocks\nwhen he fell? The prosecution, you know, is going to claim that Dawson\nhit him on the head with something, then deliberately pushed him off the\nbridge,\u2019 commented Fordney.\n\u2018I _know_ he got that bruise on the rocks,\u2019 stated Curry emphatically.\n\u2018All right,\u2019 said the Professor, \u2018but I don\u2019t think the jury will\nbelieve you. Personally, I\u2019m sure Dawson didn\u2019t intentionally kill\nScott, but we\u2019ll have to have better proof than that if we hope to\nacquit him.\n\u2018By the way,\u2019 he continued, \u2018be sure to state you knew of the grudge\nScott bore Dawson.\u2019\nWhy was the Professor doubtful the coroner\u2019s jury would believe Curry\u2019s\n                       _The Fifth Avenue Hold-Up_\n\u2018What\u2019s the hurry?\u2019 asked Professor Fordney, as Baldwin collided with\nhim in the doorway of the office at the back of the exclusive Cross\nJewelry Store.\n\u2018I\u2014I\u2014was going to help search for the robbers,\u2019 stammered Baldwin as he\nbacked into the office.\n\u2018Well, tell me what happened first,\u2019 said Fordney, as Dr. Lyman, police\nsurgeon, knelt beside Mr. Cross.\n\u2018There\u2019s the special safe for the emerald behind that miniature\nportrait. I was in here when Mr. Cross entered with two gentlemen,\u2019\nexclaimed Baldwin nervously.\n\u2018He asked me to bring in a tray of diamonds. I set it on the table\u2014both\nmen pulled guns and as Cross protested, one of them knocked him\nunconscious with a blow on the head. The other forced me into that chair\nsaying, \u201cAll right, buddy. We\u2019ll wait on ourselves.\u201d Then he put the\ndiamonds in his pocket. I\u2019m thankful I\u2019m alive. I telephoned\nHeadquarters, then rushed out into the store, but they had escaped,\u2019\nconcluded Baldwin.\n\u2018So they got away with the famous Cross emerald, eh?\u2019\n\u2018Yes. The safe door was slightly open. Mr. Cross tried to call my\nattention to it with a jerk of his thumb as the robber pocketed the\ndiamonds. Otherwise they wouldn\u2019t have discovered it.\u2019\n\u2018How is he, Doctor?\u2019 asked Fordney.\n\u2018He\u2019ll never come to, I\u2019m afraid. Those two blows on the head were a bit\ntoo much for him.\u2019\n\u2018Two blows!\u2019 ejaculated Fordney. \u2018Are you sure, Baldwin, you weren\u2019t\nhurrying away with the emerald? I\u2019m not!\u2019\n         Why did Fordney think Baldwin had stolen the emerald?\nAt the Collingham home Professor Fordney found Clive Kingston, the\nJudge\u2019s nephew, and Watkins, the butler, greatly excited. Forcing the\nlibrary door, locked for three months, they saw the Judge seated in\nfront of the fireplace opposite the door, apparently dead.\n\u2018Wait!\u2019 called Professor Fordney to Watkins, who had rushed into the\nroom.\n\u2018He\u2019s all right,\u2019 said Kingston, as he and Fordney halted over the\nthreshold.\n\u2018Perhaps, but I don\u2019t want any clues obliterated. Come back carefully\nand get us a couple of small rugs, Watkins,\u2019 commanded Fordney.\nWalking only on the rugs placed over the thick, plain carpet, Fordney\nand Kingston reached the Judge\u2019s side and found him dead\u2014shot through\nthe heart.\nKingston called the Professor\u2019s attention to footprints in the carpet\nnear the fireplace. As he fitted his shoe to an impression, he said,\n\u2018These are mine, and those, of course, must be Watkins\u2019s.\u2019\n\u2018Throw me your shoe,\u2019 called Fordney to the butler, standing in the\ndoorway. \u2018Yes, these are yours all right, and I can see the third set\nwas made by the Judge\u2014notice the impression left by his peculiarly\nconstructed right shoe.\u2019\n\u2018There\u2019s the gun under the table,\u2019 called the butler.\n\u2018Pretty sharp eyes, Watkins,\u2019 said the Professor, picking up and\ncritically examining the gun. \u2018No finger-prints, of course,\u2019 he mused.\n\u2018Look!\u2019 exclaimed Kingston, \u2018the glass in that picture is broken. Were\ntwo shots fired?\u2019\n\u2018Only one,\u2019 said Fordney, as with great care he picked the Judge\u2019s\nnose-glasses from his lap where they had fallen, unbroken. \u2018I think I\nknow now who murdered your uncle.\u2019\n                   Whom did Fordney suspect, and why?\n\u2018Tell us exactly what happened,\u2019 said Professor Fordney as he sat in his\nstudy with Mrs. Rollins.\n\u2018It was a dark, moonless night.\n\u2018At twelve o\u2019clock, when we were about ten miles off Point Breeze, I\nretired to my cabin, leaving my husband on deck. We were alone on the\nboat.\n\u2018In a few minutes, hearing loud shouts, I joined him again. We could\nhear a boat approaching, running without lights, as were we. My husband\ntold me to return to the cabin, which I did.\n\u2018Soon after doing so a bump, tramping feet, and loud swearing told me\nour visitors had come aboard. I went up and, just as I stepped on deck,\na man put a gun against my ribs and told me to keep quiet. My husband\nwas engaged in a terrific fight with two others.\n\u2018They must have known he always carried that leather bag of loose\ndiamonds because, when he dropped it in the fight, one of them picked it\nup from the deck.\n\u2018They finally knocked him unconscious and took him to their boat after\nbinding and gagging me. As you know, I was found drifting next morning\nby that fisherman.\u2019\n\u2018How was your husband dressed?\u2019 inquired Fordney.\n\u2018It was very hot\u2014he had no shirt on, but wore dark trousers.\u2019\n\u2018Shoes or tennis slippers?\u2019\n\u2018Why\u2014shoes, of course,\u2019 replied Mrs. Rollins with noticeable hesitation.\n\u2018Well,\u2019 said Fordney tersely, \u2018it\u2019s amazing to me that you expect to\ncollect insurance on your diamonds on such a flimsy yarn. You and your\nhusband will be lucky if you aren\u2019t prosecuted.\u2019\n                Where did the elaborate story fall down?\n\u2018Can you describe this fellow?\u2019 asked Professor Fordney of Henry Taylor,\nmanager of the National Theater.\n\u2018Yes. He was a tall, well-dressed, good-looking chap. Wore a panama hat,\nturned-down brim, blue coat, smart blue tie, natty white flannels with\nsilver belt-buckle, black-and-white sport shoes, and had a general air\nof culture and refinement.\u2019\n\u2018Just what did he do?\u2019\n\u2018As I was counting the receipts, he came into the office, gun in hand,\nand commanded me to get up from the desk and move over by that table.\n\u2018After putting the money in a brief-case he carried, he took out a\ncigarette and asked me to light it for him, still covering me, of\ncourse.\n\u2018Then he gagged me and tied me to the chair, after which he opened the\ndoor, looked cautiously about, came back and, with a quiet \u201csorry\u201d and a\nwarning, turned and left. As he passed through the door, he unbuttoned\nhis coat and slipped the revolver into his back pocket. The show was\njust letting out, so I suppose he mingled with the crowd and escaped,\u2019\nTaylor concluded.\n\u2018Are you insured against this loss of eight thousand dollars?\u2019 inquired\nFordney.\n\u2018Yes.\u2019\n\u2018Could you see the color of the bandit\u2019s hair?\u2019\n\u2018It was blond.\u2019\n\u2018Anything unusual about him?\u2019\n\u2018No. Except that he was constantly clearing his throat in a peculiar\nmanner,\u2019 replied Taylor.\n\u2018Left- or right-handed?\u2019\n\u2018Why\u2014I\u2019m not sure. Right-handed, though, I think.\u2019\n\u2018This has gone far enough, Taylor,\u2019 said Fordney sharply. \u2018The robbery\nwas obviously framed by you.\u2019\n           How did Fordney know Taylor had faked the hold-up?\nReturning to town late one night, Professor Fordney was driving along an\nunfrequented road when the sight of a motor-cycle policeman examining a\ncar in a ditch caused him to stop and offer his services. Joining the\npoliceman, he found that a man, obviously the driver, had been thrown\nthrough the windshield and was lying about six feet from the car.\nHis examination disclosed that the man had been terribly cut about the\nhead. The jugular vein was completely severed. The bent steering-wheel,\nshattered glass, and the blood on the front seat and floor of the car\nwere mute evidence of the tragedy.\nFordney also noted the speedometer had stopped at 62.\nA search of the body revealed nothing unusual except that the man wore\nonly one glove. The other could not be found. The Professor was\npondering this when the policeman handed him his report of accidental\ndeath, saying, \u2018Is that how you see it, sir?\u2019\n\u2018I think,\u2019 replied Fordney slowly, \u2018you\u2019d better change that to murder.\nIn the absence of any further evidence, it seems to be pretty clearly\nindicated.\u2019\n\u2018Murder!\u2019 exclaimed the bewildered policeman. \u2018I don\u2019t understand how\nyou make that out.\u2019\nAfter explaining his reason and with a final admonition to continue a\ncareful search for the missing glove, the Professor returned to his car\nand drove down the wide, smooth highway toward home and a good night\u2019s\nrest.\nFordney\u2019s deduction was confirmed when the missing glove and the\nmurderer were found.\n            How had he arrived at his startling conclusion?\n\u2018Mr. Walker hurried into the kitchen,\u2019 said the valet to Professor\nFordney, \u2018and told me he was called away unexpectedly and that I was to\ngo to his library and take the money he had won last night to the bank.\n\u2018I was busy,\u2019 he continued, \u2018but in about five minutes I went through\nthe hall, and, thinking I heard a noise, I stopped and listened at the\nstudy door. There was someone moving about. The door was open. As I\npeered around it, I saw a masked man, gun in hand, hesitating near the\nfireplace.\n\u2018Then he went over to the table in the center of the room, picked up the\nstacks of ten- and twenty-dollar bills, and left by the window. I called\nthe police immediately and gave them a description.\u2019\n\u2018Exactly what time was that?\u2019 asked Fordney.\n\u2018Just about ten o\u2019clock, sir.\u2019\n\u2018Had you been in the library before that, this morning?\u2019\n\u2018No, I hadn\u2019t.\u2019\n\u2018Were you in your master\u2019s room today?\u2019\n\u2018No. What\u2019s that got to do with it?\u2019\n\u2018Nothing,\u2019 murmured Fordney, \u2018nothing at all! Does your master gamble\noften?\u2019\n\u2018I don\u2019t think so.\u2019\n\u2018How much did he win last night?\u2019\n\u2018He didn\u2019t say.\u2019\n\u2018Humph,\u2019 said Fordney, as he pointed to a bill on the floor, \u2018the thief\ndropped one.\n\u2018I see your master has quite a library,\u2019 he continued, glancing around\nthe large, beautifully furnished room. \u2018Do you read much, Wilkins?\u2019\n\u2018A bit, sir.\u2019\n\u2018Did you ever read, \u201cHonesty is the best policy\u201d?\u2019\n       Why did the Professor think Wilkins had robbed his master?\n\u2018I wonder who had the nerve to commit such a robbery at high noon,\u2019\nmused Professor Fordney as he examined the safe, seventeen minutes after\nit had been rifled. \u2018Same old story: no finger-prints, no evidence.\u2019\n\u2018Found anything?\u2019 asked Lawson nervously as he entered his drawing-room.\n\u2018Not yet. Are you here alone, Lawson?\u2019\n\u2018No. John, my nephew, is staying with me. Everyone else is in town.\u2019\n\u2018Where is he now?\u2019\n\u2018Oh, he left about an hour ago.\u2019\nAt 3.20 P.M. Fordney noticed Jones, the gardener, working at the edge of\na flower-bed. He kept looking furtively at the house while he\nfrantically covered over the hole he had dug. Finishing, he hurriedly\nwalked toward the boat-landing.\nFordney, following, reached the dock just as John guided his motor-boat\nin.\n\u2018Have a nice day?\u2019 asked Fordney.\n\u2018Yep. Had a grand run up the lakes.\u2019\n\u2018Where were you when your uncle\u2019s safe was robbed?\u2019\n\u2018Boy, I was hauling in a big muskie! What a battle he gave me! See him\nin the end of the boat? Isn\u2019t he a beauty?\u2019\n\u2018When did you return?\u2019 demanded Fordney of the gardener.\n\u2018I don\u2019t know what time it was,\u2019 he replied nervously, glancing at John.\n\u2018You must have some idea.\u2019\n\u2018Well, it was about noon,\u2019 he reluctantly answered.\n\u2018By the way, John, do you know the combination of your uncle\u2019s safe?\u2019\ninquired Fordney.\n\u2018Is that old weasel accusing me?\u2019\n\u2018No, he isn\u2019t. But I\u2019ve got my suspicions!\u2019\n                   Whom did Fordney suspect and why?\n\u2018The witness says,\u2019 explained the interpreter, \u2018that as the car came to\na sudden stop the conductor ran to the front and yelled to the motorman,\n\u201cYou\u2019ve done it again.\"\u2019\nThe little foreigner on the witness stand looked bewildered and\nfrightened.\n\u2018He further says that there were two sailors on the car and that they\njumped off and ran.\u2019\n\u2018Have they been located yet?\u2019 inquired the Judge.\n\u2018No, Your Honor; we\u2019ve been unable to trace them, although the conductor\ngave a good description,\u2019 replied counsel.\n\u2018Proceed.\u2019\nThe interpreter continued.\n\u2018Paslovsky, the witness, declares he had a clear view of the plaintiff\nwhen he got off. He states that just as the plaintiff put his foot on\nthe ground, with his back to the front of the car, it gave a sudden\nstart and he was thrown to the road.\u2019\n\u2018Can\u2019t the witness understand or speak enough English to tell the court\nabout that?\u2019 asked the Judge.\n\u2018No, Your Honor; he\u2019s been in this country only two weeks.\u2019\n\u2018How can he get about at that hour of night alone, then?\u2019\n\u2018Some friends put him on the car and telephoned the people with whom he\nlives to meet him at the end of the line,\u2019 replied counsel for the\nplaintiff.\n\u2018Continue.\u2019\n\u2018Paslovsky,\u2019 declared the interpreter, \u2018says he picked up this picture\nfrom the floor of the car\u2014a snapshot of a sailor and a girl.\u2019\n\u2018Case dismissed,\u2019 thundered the Judge, \u2018and don\u2019t ever bring another\nlike that into this court.\u2019\n  \u2018Why was His Honor justified in so abruptly dismissing the suit for\nasked Professor Fordney of his class in criminology.\n                       _Death Attends the Party_\n\u2018He had a big party last night,\u2019 said Graves, the valet.\n\u2018Certainly looks like it,\u2019 retorted Professor Fordney, as he surveyed\nthe crazily balanced glasses, overflowing ash-trays, and liquor rings on\nthe small, fragile antique table at which Carlton Dawes sat.\n\u2018It was awful, sir. Just as I turned to say \u201cgood night\u201d to him, he\nlifted his revolver, fired and toppled over.\u2019\n\u2018Funny,\u2019 mused Fordney. \u2018He had everything to live for.\u2019\n\u2018Everything but the thing he wanted,\u2019 replied the valet. \u2018Madeline, his\nformer wife, was here last night. He is always despondent after seeing\nher.\u2019\n\u2018Well, Graves, pretty nice for you, eh? How much did he leave you?\u2019\n\u2018Ten thousand dollars, sir.\u2019\nFordney leaned over to examine the wound in Dawes\u2019s left temple. His\nhead rested on the edge of the table, his right hand on his knee and his\nleft hung lifelessly at his side.\n\u2018Anything been touched since the tragedy?\u2019\n\u2018No, sir.\u2019\nFordney picked up Dawes\u2019s revolver where it had apparently fallen from\nhis hand. After examining it and finding only the dead man\u2019s\nfinger-prints, he laid it on the table. As he did so, Madeline entered\nthe room. She stopped, horrified.\n\u2018What\u2014what\u2014has happened?\u2019\n\u2018Where did you come from?\u2019 demanded Fordney.\n\u2018I\u2019ve been upstairs. I didn\u2019t leave with the guests.\u2019\n\u2018Humph\u2014you should have,\u2019 as he shot her a quizzical look. \u2018Your presence\nmay prove embarrassing. Your ex-husband was murdered.\u2019\nMadeline slipped to the floor in a dead faint.\n                 What convinced Fordney it was murder?\nOn a battered desk in the small, dark room lay a penciled note in\nhandwriting resembling that of the dead man:\n  Dear John:\n  You know the trouble I\u2019m in. There\u2019s only one way out and I\u2019m taking\n  it. You\u2019re my pal and will understand. Good luck.\nThe only other furniture consisted of the chair in which Paul Morrow had\nbeen found with his throat cut, a bed, and a highly ornate and\napparently brand-new waste-basket. It had been definitely established\nthat the dead man had not left the room during the twenty-four hours\nbefore he was discovered.\nFinishing his examination of the contents of the man\u2019s pockets\u2014two\ntwenty-dollar bills, a cheap watch, and an expensive wallet in which\nthere was a picture of a beautiful woman\u2014Fordney turned his attention to\nthe meager inventory of the room.\n\u2018That\u2019s all we can find,\u2019 said Inspector Kelley, indicating a\ndictionary, scraps of a letter in a feminine handwriting found in the\nornate waste-basket, a pen, some cheap stationery, a few clothes, pipe\nand tobacco, and a bloody, razor-sharp knife. \u2018Certainly has all the\nappearances of suicide,\u2019 he continued. \u2018This door was locked and no one\ncould have left by that window. What do you make of it, Fordney?\u2019\nThe Professor didn\u2019t reply at once. He picked up the photograph, studied\nit a moment, and then, with a slow, searching look around the small\nroom, said:\n\u2018Better try to piece those bits of letter together. This isn\u2019t suicide;\nit\u2019s murder.\u2019\n\u2018I believe you\u2019re right,\u2019 exclaimed Kelley, with dawning comprehension.\n                What brought Fordney to this conclusion?\n\u2018Who are you, and what\u2019s this all about?\u2019 demanded Inspector Kelley, as\nhe and Professor Fordney arrived at the apartment in answer to a call.\n\u2018I\u2019m Jack Day. I share this apartment with Al Quale. I returned from the\ntheater, shortly after midnight, went into his room, and found him lying\nthere on the bed. When I saw he was dead, I called Headquarters at once.\nGod, this is terrible!\u2019\n\u2018Those your things on the bed?\u2019 asked Kelley, indicating a blood-stained\nmuffler, a hat, gloves, and cane.\n\u2018Yes, I tossed them there before I rushed to the telephone. Got that\nblood on the muffler when I bent over him.\u2019\n\u2018What time did you leave here this evening?\u2019\n\u2018Shortly before seven,\u2019 replied Day.\n\u2018Can you prove you were at the theater all evening?\u2019 demanded Kelley.\n\u2018Why, yes, I went with a friend.\u2019\n\u2018He\u2019s been dead about six hours, Inspector,\u2019 said the police surgeon,\nfinishing his examination at this point. \u2018A deep knife wound, below the\nheart.\u2019\nAs Fordney picked up an earring from the floor, Day exclaimed: \u2018Why,\nthat belongs to his fianc\u00e9e.\u2019\n\u2018Well, there\u2019ll be no wedding bells for him,\u2019 remarked Kelley, with a\nstart as he discovered that Day\u2019s cane was a sword-stick with a long,\nthin, shining blade.\n\u2018Any blood, Inspector?\u2019 asked Fordney.\n\u2018None. Clean as a whistle.\u2019\n\u2018Well, Day, looks mighty bad for you,\u2019 stated the Professor. \u2018I don\u2019t\nknow yet whether you killed him with that cane, or whether you killed\nhim at all, but I do know you were here a few minutes after he was\nstabbed.\u2019\n                      How did the Professor know?\n\u2018I had counted the cash, and as I was working the combination to open\nthe wall safe I heard this guy in back of me say, \u201cGet \u2019em up, Bo. This\nis a stick-up.\u201d I reached for the ceiling as he says, \u201cMake a move and\nI\u2019ll drill you!\u201d He didn\u2019t sound like he was foolin\u2019, so I kept quiet.\n\u2018Well, he comes over, gives me a prod with his gun, pockets the dough,\nand asks me where the best liquor is, saying he don\u2019t want no bar\nwhiskey either. I told him and he poured himself a drink.\n\u2018Then he got real sociable-like, but wouldn\u2019t let me take my hands down.\nHe kept on talkin\u2019 and makin\u2019 wise-cracks, but finally got tired, I\nguess.\n\u2018With a warnin\u2019 that, if I moved before I could count twenty, my wife\nwould be a widow, he beat it,\u2019 concluded Sullivan.\n\u2018How much did he take?\u2019 inquired Professor Fordney, who had entered the\nspeakeasy after hearing the bartender\u2019s call for help.\n\u2018About five hundred dollars,\u2019 Sullivan replied. \u2018We had a good day.\u2019\n\u2018Haven\u2019t you a gun here?\u2019\n\u2018Sure, but I didn\u2019t have a chance. I ain\u2019t exactly no boy scout, but\nthis mug was too big and tough-lookin\u2019 for me to tackle.\u2019\n\u2018How did you get that cut on your hand?\u2019 inquired the Professor. \u2018And\nthat bruise on your finger?\u2019\n\u2018Opening a case of lemons,\u2019 answered Sullivan.\n\u2018Well,\u2019 said Fordney, \u2018if your whiskey isn\u2019t any better than your\nattempt at a fake hold-up, I\u2019ll have ginger ale.\u2019\nYou\u2019re right. The bruise had nothing to do with it, but:\n             How did Fordney know the stick-up was a fake?\nProfessor Fordney, on his way to investigate a case of blackmail, was\nmusing on the perversity of human nature when a jar threw him into the\naisle as the train came to a sudden stop. Jumping off, he rushed ahead\nof the engine, where he found a small crowd gathered about the mutilated\nbody of a man hit by the train. He was identified by a card in his\npocket as John Nelson, an important figure in railroad labor circles.\n\u2018How did it happen?\u2019 inquired Fordney.\n\u2018Well,\u2019 replied Morton, the engineer, \u2018I was running twelve minutes late\nwhen I hit him. There are several miles of straight-away along here and\nI was beating it along at sixty miles trying to make up time. Didn\u2019t see\nhim until we were about ten yards away, right on top of him. I jammed on\nthe brakes, of course, but it was too late.\u2019\n\u2018Did you leave New York on time?\u2019\n\u2018Yes, sir. One-thirty exactly.\u2019\n\u2018Why were you running late?\u2019\n\u2018We were held in a block for about fifteen minutes outside of New\nHaven.\u2019\n\u2018What was your fireman doing when you hit this man?\u2019\n\u2018Stoking the boiler.\u2019\n\u2018You say it was just a few seconds after four-ten when you hit him?\u2019\ndemanded the Professor.\n\u2018That\u2019s right,\u2019 agreed Morton.\n\u2018Did you know this man by any chance?\u2019\n\u2018Yes, slightly\u2014he was an officer in my union,\u2019 replied the engineer,\nwith a worried look.\n\u2018Well,\u2019 said Fordney, \u2018I don\u2019t know your object in telling such a story,\nor how you hoped to get away with it\u2014you won\u2019t.\u2019\n        What justified Fordney in recommending Morton\u2019s arrest?\n\u2018Peculiar,\u2019 murmured Fordney, as he examined the desk on which lay seven\nletters ready for mailing, three gray, one lavender, two pink, and one\nlemon-colored.\nAs he idly shaped the wax of the candle standing on the desk, he\ncontinued to ponder this unusual choice of color in stationery.\nOne of the letters was addressed to Dot Dalton, who had been murdered\nbetween eleven-forty and eleven-fifty. She was one of the guests at this\nhouse party in the Adirondacks.\nAll the letters were closed with black sealing wax stamped with the\nletter \u2018F.\u2019\nAt midnight, Fordney began his questioning.\n\u2018What time did you retire?\u2019 he asked Molly Fleming, in whose bedroom he\nwas seated.\n\u2018About ten,\u2019 she replied.\n\u2018Was your door locked?\u2019\n\u2018Yes.\u2019\n\u2018Hear any disturbance?\u2019\n\u2018No; I was tired, fell asleep almost immediately, and didn\u2019t awaken\nuntil you knocked on my door a few minutes ago and told me of the\ntragedy.\u2019\n\u2018Why did you write to Dot?\u2019\n\u2018I didn\u2019t see her last night and knew she intended leaving early this\nmorning. Jack Fahey broke our engagement yesterday and told me he was\ngoing to marry Dot. My letter was to tell her just how despicable I\nthought she was in luring him away from me. He didn\u2019t love her. Of\ncourse, I\u2019m sorry she\u2019s dead, but a lot of wives will feel safer.\u2019\n\u2018Why the various colors of stationery?\u2019 inquired the Professor.\n\u2018Oh, I always write in a color that seems to reflect the personality of\nmy correspondent.\u2019\n\u2018I see,\u2019 said Fordney; \u2018but unless you have a better alibi you\u2019ll be\nheld under serious suspicion.\u2019\n  Why was the Professor practically certain Molly was involved in this\n\u2018What a night!\u2019 sighed Professor Fordney as he hung up the telephone\nreceiver. Half an hour later, still grumbling, he splashed his way\nthrough the mud and rain to the door of 27 Holden Road. Removing his\nrubbers in the spotless vestibule, he stepped into a large,\nwell-furnished living-room running the entire width of the house.\nIntroducing himself and explaining he would question everyone later, he\nasked to be left alone.\nIn the far corner of the room he found a man lying on the floor, his\nthroat cut. As he bent over, his attention was attracted to a dime lying\nabout five feet from the head of the dead man. He picked it up, regarded\nit curiously, and, with a thoughtful look, put it in his pocket.\nThe Professor began his questioning with the butler.\n\u2018You found the dead man?\u2019\n\u2018Yes, sir, I was returning from posting a letter about thirty minutes\nago and, just as I was coming up the path of the front door, I heard a\nscream, dashed in, and found Mr. White here gasping his last breath.\u2019\n\u2018Lose a dime?\u2019 inquired Fordney mildly.\n\u2018Why, I don\u2019t think so, sir,\u2019 replied the butler nervously.\n\u2018I heard the scream from upstairs,\u2019 volunteered Cannon, owner of the\nhouse, \u2018and ran in here right behind Wilkins.\u2019\n\u2018Did either of you leave this room before I arrived?\u2019\n\u2018No,\u2019 replied Cannon; \u2018we stayed here until you came.\u2019\n\u2018Did you, Mr. Cannon, lose a dime? No? Well,\u2019 remarked Fordney, \u2018it\nlooks like collusion to me and I can tell you Inspector Kelley won\u2019t\nswallow this story.\u2019\n                     What was wrong with the story?\n\u2018Having these stones in my possession, Professor Fordney, isn\u2019t proof\nthat I had any part in the Morris robbery.\u2019\n\u2018I know all about your story, Holmes. Found the jewels yesterday at\nthree o\u2019clock in the lake, tied up in a chamois bag, didn\u2019t you? But\nwhat were you doing out in an open boat in the cloudburst that lasted\nall yesterday afternoon?\u2019\n\u2018It was because of that cloudburst that I sallied forth,\u2019 explained\nHolmes confidently. \u2018Perfect fishing weather, so I jumped into my boat\nand went across the lake for some minnows. I had rowed back to within a\nfew yards of shore when I just happened to notice the bag lying on the\nbottom of the lake, so I landed, tipped my boat over to keep the rain\nout, and waded in. Curious, you know. The water at that point was over\nmy waist and cold, but when I opened the bag\u2014my courage and curiosity\nwere rewarded.\u2019\n\u2018On which side of the dock did you find it?\u2019 asked Fordney.\nHolmes pointed to a spot on the sandy bottom at the left.\n\u2018Think I\u2019ll talk with the minnow man,\u2019 declared the Professor as he got\ninto Holmes\u2019s boat. He rowed furiously for about fifty yards, suddenly\ndropped the oars and, after glancing from the crystal-clear water to the\nbottom of the boat, emitted a victorious chuckle.\n\u2018Stupid of me not to have thought of that before,\u2019 he mused. \u2018Wonder if\nHolmes is a better fisherman than he is a liar?\u2019\n             Clever fellow, Holmes. Did his story fool you?\n\u2018Dead! Bullet-hole in right temple,\u2019 said Sergeant Reynolds, as he knelt\nby a man lying face down, a revolver clutched in his right hand.\n\u2018All right,\u2019 replied Inspector Kelley. \u2018Let\u2019s have a look round. Dressed\nfor the street, eh?\u2019 While speaking, Kelley picked up from the floor\nseveral fragments of glass and a right-hand glove, turned inside-out.\n\u2018Look at this glove, Reynolds. What do you make of it? And I wonder if\nthat soiled handkerchief on the table belongs to him?\u2019\n\u2018Gee, Chief,\u2019 said Reynolds, as he turned the body over and unbuttoned\nthe topcoat, \u2018this is young Holman, the millionaire.\u2019\nThe body was immaculately clothed in the finest custom tailoring.\n\u2018Broke his watch, too. Stopped at eight-ten,\u2019 continued the Sergeant, as\nhe removed the timepiece from the vest pocket. \u2018Let\u2019s see if those\npieces you\u2019ve got are part of the crystal. Yep! And look at this jade\nelephant at the end of the chain.\n\u2018Bumped himself off, all right, Inspector, but I don\u2019t get that glove\nbusiness, or that dirty handkerchief either.\u2019\n\u2018We\u2019d better look round and find that other glove,\u2019 said Kelley.\nA thorough search failed to disclose it, and while the Inspector was\nconfident it was suicide, he decided to get Professor Fordney\u2019s opinion,\nbecause of the prominence of young Holman.\nAfter explaining the situation to the Professor over the telephone, he\nwas puzzled at his reply:\n\u2018I\u2019ll be right around, Inspector. From what you\u2019ve told me, it looks\nlike murder.\u2019\n   What justified the Professor\u2019s belief that it was probably murder?\n                        _The Professor Listens_\n\u2018Why the rush to get back to New York?\u2019 inquired Fordney, a few minutes\nafter Delavin stepped from the plane. \u2018Thought you intended spending the\nsummer in Cuba.\u2019\n\u2018Well, if you must know, my bank failed, and I came back to straighten\nout my affairs.\u2019\n\u2018That\u2019s too bad, Delavin. How did you hear about it?\u2019\nHe handed Fordney a clipping from the _Jacksonville Herald_:\n  New York, July 5. (AP)\u2014Foundation Bank & Trust Co., one of New York\u2019s\n  oldest banking establishments, closed its doors today...\n\u2018Sure you didn\u2019t come back to help your pal Ryan?\u2019 asked the Professor.\n\u2018He\u2019s been in jail for two days. Ever since the Fourth-of-July bombing.\nHad a letter on him signed by you asking him to get in touch with a C.\nJ. Wallace.\n\u2018We traced Wallace and discovered he is with an ammunition company. When\nthe District Attorney heard you were on your way here, he asked me to\nmeet you. He thinks you know something about the bombing.\u2019\n\u2018In jail, huh? I didn\u2019t know there had been a bombing. Wallace is a\ncousin of mine.\u2019\n\u2018Where did you catch your plane?\u2019\n\u2018Why\u2014er\u2014Jacksonville, Florida. You see, I was staying at a rather remote\nplace and no planes serve that part of Cuba. Really had no thought of\nleaving until I read of the bank failure.\u2019\n\u2018Well, you had better think of a more convincing alibi, before the\nDistrict Attorney questions you.\u2019\n\u2018Oh, I suppose somebody wired him that \u201cSpider\u201d McCoy met the plane when\nwe landed in Norfolk. He\u2019s got nothing on me!\u2019 exclaimed Delavin.\n        What do you think of Delavin\u2019s actions? Suspicious? Why?\nProfessor Fordney glanced at his desk clock as he picked up the\nreceiver\u2014ten-fifteen.\n\u2018Hello!\u2019 came the agitated voice at the other end. \u2018This is Waters.\nCould you come over right away? Something\u2019s just happened that I\u2019d like\nto discuss with you. I\u2019d appreciate it.\u2019\n\u2018Well,\u2019 returned the Professor, again glancing dubiously at the clock,\n\u2018if it\u2019s important, I\u2019ll be round. Good-bye.\u2019\nTwenty minutes later, he was met at the door by Waters\u2019s secretary who\nwas almost incoherent in his excitement.\n\u2018He\u2019s dead, Professor. Dead\u2014there in the library!\u2019\nFordney hurried to the room and found Waters slumped over his desk with\nhis throat cut.\n\u2018Well, tell me what happened,\u2019 he said to the secretary, as he noted the\nposition of the body, the open window, and the cigar-ash on the rug\nabout six feet from Waters\u2019s chair.\n\u2018I came in about an hour ago, Professor, and went right upstairs to do\nsome work. Twenty-five minutes ago I came down and heard him talking to\nyou as I passed the library on my way to the pantry for a sandwich. I\nwas there about twenty minutes, I imagine, and, as I came back through\nthe hall, I happened to look in here, and there he was. I can\u2019t imagine\nwho did it or how it happened,\u2019 he concluded.\n\u2018Have a cigar,\u2019 offered Fordney.\n\u2018Thanks, I will, Professor. It\u2019ll kind of steady the nerves.\u2019\n\u2018And now,\u2019 said Fordney, \u2018suppose you tell me the real truth of this\naffair.\u2019\n\u2018I was beatin\u2019 along the Boston Post Road, about fifty miles an hour,\nwhen I looks around and sees this bird standing on the tail-gate\nfumbling with the lock on the doors. I stopped as fast as I could,\njumped out, and ran round to the back. This mug had hopped off with an\narmful of furs and climbed into a car that was following. His partner\neven took a shot at me,\u2019 said Sullivan, whom Professor Fordney was\nquestioning.\n\u2018He must have been a very good judge. He took only the best you\ncarried,\u2019 commented Fordney.\n\u2018Yeah. Guess he was. Fur-stealin\u2019 is a big racket these days.\u2019\n\u2018Why didn\u2019t you report it at the next town instead of waiting until you\ngot back to the office?\u2019\n\u2018Well, I thought the boss wouldn\u2019t want it to get out that the furs of\nhis wealthy customers had been pinched. He\u2019s awful particular about us\nusin\u2019 our heads.\u2019\n\u2018Where was your helper?\u2019\n\u2018Just after I started out, he said he was feelin\u2019 sick, so I told him to\ngo on home.\u2019\n\u2018Fifty miles an hour is excessive speed for that truck, isn\u2019t it?\u2019 asked\nFordney, examining the all-steel doors of the massive, dust-proof\nmoving-van.\n\u2018She\u2019s big, but she\u2019ll do even better than that!\u2019\n\u2018Always wear those gloves when you\u2019re working?\u2019\n\u2018Always,\u2019 laughed the driver. \u2018Have to keep me hands dainty, you know.\u2019\n\u2018I thought so,\u2019 retorted Fordney, continuing his close examination of\nthe doors.\n\u2018Come on, Sullivan, take me for a ride in that truck. I know you\u2019re\nlying.\u2019\n                      How did the Professor know?\n                    _The Professor is Disappointed_\n\u2018What\u2019ll I do, Professor,\u2019 implored Vi Cargo, as Fordney examined the\nground beneath her bedroom window.\nSeven A.M. A fine time to start looking for a thief! Why couldn\u2019t women\nbe more careful of their jewelry!\n\u2018I was restless all night,\u2019 said Vi, as Fordney knelt beside a deep\nimpression of a man\u2019s right shoe.\n\u2018By Jove, I thought we\u2019d found one of your stones,\u2019 he said, pointing to\na leaf in the footprint. \u2018Look at the sunlight glistening on those\nraindrops!\u2019\n\u2018It was the shower that awakened me around six,\u2019 chattered Vi. \u2018It only\nlasted about fifteen minutes. I dozed off again and awakened with a\nstart just as a man jumped to the ground, from my bedroom window.\u2019\n\u2018Was that just before you came for me?\u2019\n\u2018Yes.\u2019\n\u2018Are are you alone, Vi?\u2019\n\u2018Yes. The servants are in the country.\u2019\n\u2018Then why did you have all your jewels in the house?\u2019\n\u2018I had worn them to Mrs. De Forest\u2019s party.\u2019\n\u2018Do you know anyone who smokes this brand?\u2019 asked Fordney, picking up\nfrom the ground an unsmoked cigarette of English manufacture.\n\u2018Yes. Mr. Nelson, who brought me home last night. However, I threw that\none there.\u2019\n\u2018The thief chiseled open this window directly under your bedroom.\u2019\n\u2018I wondered how he got in! The doors were all locked.\u2019\n\u2018Come, my dear! Don\u2019t you think you\u2019ve treated the old Professor rather\nshabbily? You women! I know your jewels are heavily insured and I also\nknow of your bridge debts. Who helped you fake this robbery? Nelson?\u2019\nA clock softly chimed eight-forty-five as Professor Fordney and\nHalloway, dramatic critic of the _Times_, finished their after-dinner\ncoffee. They strolled leisurely to the corner and reached the Belmont\njust in time for the curtain.\nAs the first act ended, Fordney remarked enthusiastically: \u2018Halloway,\nit\u2019s magnificent! Boswell is certainly our finest dramatic actor. How he\nheld that audience, for forty-five minutes, from the moment the curtain\narose! That\u2019s genius!\u2019\nThe final curtain found him even more enthusiastic in his praise of\nBoswell\u2019s acting.\nLearning next morning of the actor\u2019s murder, he became personally\ninterested.\nSibyl Mortimer had been questioned by the police and quickly dismissed.\nHer alibi appeared sound. She had an engagement with Boswell last\nevening, but said he telephoned her shortly after nine breaking it, so\nthe police concerned themselves with his reason for doing so.\nA taxi-driver, who drove Boswell and another man from the theater,\ndropped them at Fifth Avenue and Sixty-Fifth Street at midnight. His\ndescription of the man checked with that of Jenks, Boswell\u2019s manager,\nwho was missing. It was learned that his reason for breaking the\nengagement with Sibyl was to discuss a new contract with Jenks, about\nwhich there had been considerable disagreement.\nA charred piece of the contract was found in the actor\u2019s fireplace, in\nfront of which he lay. Jenks\u2019s cane and a vanity-case monogrammed \u2018S.\nM.\u2019 were also found in the room.\nAcquainted with the facts by Sergeant Reynolds, Fordney replied,\n\u2018I\u2019m afraid you\u2019ve overlooked a valuable clue.\u2019\n\u2018Here\u2019s all we\u2019ve been able to learn, Professor. I wish you\u2019d see what\nyou can make of it,\u2019 said Sheriff Darrow.\n\u2018Garden\u2019s cottage fronts the lake at a point about halfway between the\nhead and foot of its mile length.\n\u2018A strong east wind off the lake that morning caused him and his two\nguests to abandon their proposed fishing trip. Garden remained behind\nwhile Rice and Johnson set off hiking in opposite directions.\n\u2018Rice said that fifteen minutes later, as he was retrieving his hat\nwhich had blown into the lake, he heard a shot and hurried to the\ncottage. There he found Johnson with blood on his hands bending over\nGarden, who had been shot through the heart.\n\u2018Johnson said he had gone only about two hundred yards when he heard the\nshot and rushed back. He claims he got the blood on his hands when\nascertaining if Garden were alive. He also admits moving some furniture,\nalthough cautioned against it by Rice.\n\u2018Fortunately for Rice, we found his hat still wet, but discovered he had\nchanged his shirt before the arrival of the police. He had also gone\nthrough Garden\u2019s desk, but said he removed nothing.\n\u2018Both men entered through the back door, though the front entrance was\nmore convenient.\n\u2018We haven\u2019t found a gun or any other weapon and we haven\u2019t been able to\nestablish a motive yet,\u2019 concluded Darrow. \u2018What do you make of it?\u2019\n\u2018It\u2019s a bit muddled, Sheriff,\u2019 replied Fordney, \u2018but I would question\n             Of whom was he definitely suspicious\u2014and why?\n                     _The Professor Studies a Coat_\n\u2018They covered us with a gun, and when the cashier tried to give an\nalarm, they shot him. Then they handcuffed me, grabbed five stacks of\nbills, and beat it.\u2019\n\u2018Calm yourself,\u2019 ordered Fordney, \u2018and tell me who \u201cthey\u201d are.\u2019\n\u2018Two fellows who robbed the bank just now,\u2019 explained the excited\nnarrator, who had rushed into Fordney\u2019s cottage at Lakeview. \u2018I knew you\nwere vacationing in the village, so, as soon as they escaped in their\ncar, I ran over here.\u2019\n\u2018Didn\u2019t you call a doctor for the cashier?\u2019\n\u2018Too late. He must have died instantly.\u2019\n\u2018How do you know the bandits escaped in a car?\u2019\n\u2018I saw them from the window.\u2019\n\u2018Were you and the cashier alone at the time of the shooting?\u2019\n\u2018Yes. I had just made a deposit. I guess they got my money, too.\u2019\nFordney walked over and picked up the overcoat his visitor had removed\nupon entering the living-room.\n\u2018You seem to have had a little accident. How did you get this?\u2019 he\nasked, examining a long tear in the front of the coat.\n\u2018Why\u2014I guess I tore it on the door when I rushed out of the bank. I\nbroke a button, too, you\u2019ll notice.\u2019\n\u2018Let\u2019s see your hat!\u2019 demanded Fordney, eyeing his visitor sharply.\n\u2018Why\u2014where is it? I\u2014must have left it in the bank!\u2019\n\u2018Well\u2014let\u2019s go. The police will be interested in your story\u2014and bring\nthat coat with you!\u2019\n     Why did Fordney suspect this man of complicity in the hold-up?\n\u2018Perhaps you\u2019d better tell me exactly what happened,\u2019 said Professor\nFordney kindly to the agitated man.\n\u2018Well,\u2019 continued Palmer, \u2018Frank has been despondent and talked of\nsuicide for some time. I thought exercise and the open air would do him\ngood, so I suggested a vacation at my place in the country.\n\u2018We\u2019d been there three days, and he seemed in much better spirits. Then,\nThursday morning, after we\u2019d been fishing an hour or so, he said he\nthought he\u2019d try another stream about a mile away. I was having good\nluck, so I told him to go ahead and I\u2019d meet him at the cabin later.\n\u2018About eleven o\u2019clock, when I\u2019d caught my limit, I started back. As I\nneared the cabin, I seemed to have a premonition of trouble, and ran the\nlast few yards. When I opened the door, God! I\u2019ll never forget it! I\u2019d\ngot there not more than five minutes behind him, and yet there he\nlay\u2014dead! That hideous look on his face! It haunts me! Why couldn\u2019t I\nhave been just a few minutes earlier?\n\u2018A whiskey bottle on the table and the glass which smelled of cyanide\ntold me the story. He\u2019d done it, after all! I\u2019ll never forgive myself,\u2019\nPalmer concluded with a sob.\n\u2018Had you any visitors while at camp?\u2019 asked Fordney.\n\u2018No, we hadn\u2019t seen anyone for two days.\u2019\n\u2018Did your friend smoke?\u2019\n\u2018Not at all.\u2019\n\u2018Was the door open or closed when you arrived?\u2019\n\u2018Why, closed.\u2019\n\u2018And the windows?\u2019\n\u2018Closed, too, Professor.\u2019\n\u2018If you\u2019re innocent, Palmer, why are you lying?\u2019 demanded Fordney.\n                      _Sergeant Reynolds\u2019s Theory_\n\u2018Inspector Kelley picks out such nice messy jobs for me.\u2019\nProfessor Fordney smiled as Reynolds made a wry face.\n\u2018We found him lying against a boulder about ten feet from the bottom of\na fifty-foot embankment of solid rock. While there were no traces of the\npath of his fall, the concrete road directly above him was stained with\nblood. I don\u2019t know why people insist on walking along the highway.\n\u2018That\u2019s such a bad curve right there. I don\u2019t suppose we\u2019ll ever find\nout who struck him. And then, it\u2019s possible for someone to have hit him\nwithout knowing it. And I believe the car that did stopped and the\ndriver seeing how badly he was hurt, in fear, drove on.\u2019\n\u2018What makes you think that, Reynolds?\u2019\n\u2018There are tracks of a car skidding along the shoulder of the road, and\nfootprints in the blood where the fellow dropped on the pavement. I\nsuppose the poor old man regained consciousness, staggered to his feet,\nand rolled down the embankment. That finished him. Ugh\u2014it was a messy\naffair!\u2019\n\u2018Who is he?\u2019\n\u2018We\u2019re not sure. The only identification was a small scrap of paper in\nhis pocket with the name Tabor. By a queer coincidence there was a large\nT deeply cut in the blood-stained boulder which stopped his fall.\u2019\n\u2018No doubt, Sergeant, the murderers intended you should take exactly the\ninference you have, but don\u2019t you see t____ w__ n_ b____ b______ t__\n                 What did the Professor tell Reynolds?\n\u2018I went to the office Thursday to do some work,\u2019 Shaeffer related.\n\u2018About noon, I happened to look out the window and notice a black sedan\ndraw up and two tough-looking fellows get out. They looked suspicious to\nme, and, as I wasn\u2019t armed, I hastily banged the safe door closed and\nran into the washroom\u2014not a bit too soon either. In just a few seconds\nthey came in, one carrying a sawed-off shotgun. I could see them\nplainly.\n\u2018They looked around for a moment and one said, \u201cIf anybody comes in here\nbefore we\u2019re through, give it to him.\u201d\n\u2018He then went over to the safe and, after working on it for about five\nminutes, had it open and took the money. They certainly had a lot of\nnerve. Even stopped to count it! Then they leisurely strolled out the\ndoor. I called Headquarters immediately.\u2019\n\u2018How much did they get?\u2019 questioned Inspector Kelley.\n\u2018Over fifteen thousand. We hadn\u2019t banked the money from the day before\nbecause Thursday was a holiday.\u2019\n\u2018Get the number of the car?\u2019\n\u2018No. When it drove up to the office, I didn\u2019t see a license plate on the\nfront, and I couldn\u2019t see the back. When I finished telephoning for the\npolice, it had gone.\u2019\n\u2018Was there anyone at the office besides you?\u2019\n\u2018I was alone. A man telephoned an hour before, however, and asked if we\nwere open. I told him no, but I\u2019d be there until about two-thirty. He\nhung up without answering.\u2019\n\u2018Well, fellows,\u2019 asked Professor Fordney, of the members of his class in\n   criminology, to whom he was telling the story, \u2018why did Inspector\n                  Kelley immediately arrest Shaeffer?\u2019\nThe sun streamed cheerfully through the window, bringing into lively\nplay the soft tones of the luxurious furnishings, as the two house\nguests, Professor Fordney and Inspector Kelley, entered the oil\nmagnate\u2019s bedroom.\n\u2018Nothing in here to get excited about,\u2019 said Kelley.\nFordney, opening the window and seeing Smith lying on the ground three\nstories below it, cried, \u2018Run downstairs, Inspector. Quick! There he\nis!\u2019\nKelley nodded, and was on his way. As he hurried out the door, he came\nface to face with the butler. Fordney eyed the servant suspiciously as\nhe entered.\n\u2018When did you see Mr. Smith last?\u2019 he asked.\n\u2018About an hour ago. He had a telephone call which seemed to excite him\nand he came right up here to his room.\u2019\n\u2018Who brought this up?\u2019 Fordney asked, fingering an unopened letter with\nan illegible postmark.\n\u2018He brought it up himself, sir, saying he was not to be disturbed.\u2019\n\u2018Anyone been here since?\u2019\nKelley\u2019s noisy entrance interrupted the butler\u2019s \u2018No, sir.\u2019\n\u2018Smith broke his neck. I found this on him,\u2019 he remarked, handing the\nProfessor a note.\n  Ill health and financial trouble have made life a burden. I\u2019m leaving\n  my bedroom for the last time. A three-story drop and my misery will be\n  over.\n\u2018His suicide will be a blow to the oil industry,\u2019 Kelley mused, as\nFordney sat down at the desk and began to write with Smith\u2019s fountain\npen.\n\u2018His _death_ will be, Inspector,\u2019 said Fordney. \u2018Better get the servants\ntogether. This is murder\u2014not suicide!\u2019\n       What reason did Fordney have for making such a statement?\n\u2018I was trying to stop the flow with this, Professor,\u2019 said Weeds, the\nbutler, indicating a blood-covered towel he had just removed from the\nbed, \u2018when Jones struck at me and I dropped it.\u2019\n\u2018And I\u2019m sorry I missed!\u2019 angrily exclaimed Jones, the colored\nchauffeur.\n\u2018Never mind that,\u2019 said Inspector Kelley.\n\u2018Did you find her, Weeds?\u2019 asked Professor Fordney.\n\u2018Yes, sir.\u2019\n\u2018She\u2019s a good-looking mulatto,\u2019 remarked Kelley, looking at the maid\nlying on the floor at the side of the bed. Her right hand outstretched,\nthe wrist deeply cut, rested in a pool of blood on the polished floor.\n\u2018Must have slipped off the bed.\u2019\n\u2018I don\u2019t think so. The spread hasn\u2019t a wrinkle in it,\u2019 said Fordney,\nnoting the immaculate coverlet of pink lace, the edge caught under the\ngirl\u2019s body.\n\u2018She was almost gone when I found her,\u2019 offered Weeds, \u2018and she died\nbefore I could get a doctor.\u2019\n\u2018Is this yours, Jones?\u2019 inquired Fordney, picking up a sharp knife\nhidden by the girl\u2019s dress.\n\u2018Yes. She wanted it to cut the stems of the flowers I had brought up.\u2019\n\u2018I didn\u2019t see that knife when I tried to help her,\u2019 said Weeds.\n\u2018Course you didn\u2019t! You put it there!\u2019 shouted Jones angrily.\n\u2018How do you know? You weren\u2019t here. And what\u2019s more, I heard you\nthreaten her last night. You don\u2019t see any flowers here, do you,\nInspector?\u2019 quietly asked Weeds.\n\u2018You\u2019re right,\u2019 said Kelley. After whispering to Fordney, he continued,\n\u2018Come on, _you\u2019re_ under arrest. And _you_, we\u2019ll question you later!\u2019\n                    Whom did Kelley arrest\u2014and why?\n\u2018We\u2019d better walk along the edge,\u2019 said Professor Fordney, as they\nstarted down the only path leading through the swamp.\n\u2018I never thought of that. I was on the porch when Barton left,\u2019 said\nBob, as he trudged along. \u2018Ten minutes later, I heard a shot. I ran down\nthe path and found him about five hundred yards from the house, bleeding\nterribly from a wound in the head. I dashed back for the first-aid kit\nand bandaged him as best I could. He died shortly afterwards. Then I\nreturned and telephoned you.\u2019\nReaching the body of Barton, he explained, \u2018I turned him over so that I\ncould dress his head.\u2019\n\u2018He must have been shot from over there, because those three sets of\nfootprints are yours and the other one Barton\u2019s,\u2019 said Fordney, after a\ncareful examination. \u2018Let\u2019s look in that underbrush.\u2019\nWalking into it a few yards, he said, \u2018Here\u2019s where the murderer stood,\nall right. See those powder-marks on the leaves?\u2019\nWhile removing the branch, Fordney cut his finger.\n\u2018Better sterilize that, Professor.\u2019\nBack at the cottage, as he was about to pick up a mercurochrome bottle\nfrom the kit Bob had used, he observed a spot of blood on the label.\nWalking over to the basin, he saw Bob in the mirror above it, furtively\nslip a pair of scissors into the kit.\nTurning slowly around, he said, \u2018I\u2019ll have to hold you on suspicion of\nmurder.\u2019\n\u2018We were just getting into our boat,\u2019 said the elder Carroll brother,\n\u2018when we happened to notice Ridge out there in the middle of the river,\nopposite Wolf\u2019s old abandoned dock, acting very queerly. He jumped up\nand down in the boat, and then, all of a sudden, grabbed an oar, threw\nit up in the air, and jumped in.\n\u2018We rowed to the spot, and I dived after him while my brother secured\nhis boat. The current\u2019s fast there, but I\u2019m a strong swimmer. I swam\naround while my brother rowed about, but we could find no trace of him,\u2019\nhe concluded.\n\u2018We found the oar all right, in the weeds at Wolf\u2019s dock,\u2019 interjected\nRiley, of the River Patrol.\n\u2018How wide is the river at that point?\u2019 asked Professor Fordney.\n\u2018About half a mile,\u2019 said Carroll.\n\u2018Pretty lonely, too, isn\u2019t it?\u2019\n\u2018It is that,\u2019 replied Riley.\n\u2018The coroner\u2019s report says Ridge had received a blow of some kind on the\nchin. Know anything about it, Carroll?\u2019 inquired Fordney.\n\u2018No, I don\u2019t. Might have hit a rock or the side of the boat when he went\nover.\u2019\n\u2018Were you up or down river, from Ridge?\u2019\n\u2018Up river, about three hundred yards, on the west side.\u2019\n\u2018Did you and your brother have on bathing-suits at the time?\u2019\n\u2018I did, but my brother didn\u2019t.\u2019\n\u2018Are there any blood-stains in Ridge\u2019s boat, Riley?\u2019\n\u2018Well, there are stains all right, and they look like blood to me.\u2019\n\u2018I\u2019m not surprised. Hold them both.\u2019\n       Why was the Professor suspicious of the Carroll brothers?\n                      _Tragedy at the Convention_\nThe Convention was in an uproar! The Drys were making a determined stand\nand showing some unexpected last-minute strength.\nThe Wets were shouting, clamoring, and stamping. The Chairman was vainly\ntrying to restore order amid a scene of wild confusion.\nAs the excitement reached its pitch, Hurlenson, a powerful leader of the\nWets, told a companion seated next to him that he felt a heart attack\ncoming on and was going back to the hotel.\nAn hour later, the Convention was stunned to learn he had committed\nsuicide in his room.\nProfessor Fordney, a guest at the Convention, went immediately to the\nhotel.\nIn Hurlenson\u2019s room he found the police, the doctor, and Pollert, an\ninfluential delegate, who had discovered him.\n\u2018The last time I saw Hurlenson was at the party last night, and he\nseemed in excellent spirits,\u2019 said Pollert. \u2018I arose late this\nmorning\u2014my room\u2019s down at the other end of the corridor\u2014and I was just\nleaving for the Convention hall when I heard a shot. I dashed directly\nhere, but it was too late. He must have died immediately.\u2019\n\u2018He did,\u2019 said the doctor. \u2018He apparently stood in front of the mirror,\ntook aim, and blew out his brains. There are powder-burns all around the\nwound.\u2019\nLearning that none of the maids or any of the other guests were on the\nfloor at the time, Fordney advised the police to hold Pollert on\nsuspicion of murder.\n\u2018Look, Professor! That\u2019s how the murderer got in, all right,\u2019 said\nTracy.\nAs Fordney walked over to the ladder standing two feet from the back of\nthe house, he knelt down and carefully studied the heavy footprints\naround it.\n\u2018Whose room is that?\u2019 he inquired, pointing to a second-story window\nagainst which the top of the thirty-foot ladder rested.\n\u2018That\u2019s Uncle\u2019s study,\u2019 replied Tracy.\nGoing into the house, Fordney first questioned Withers, who had\ndiscovered the body of Lane, Tracy\u2019s uncle.\n\u2018I was reading in my room,\u2019 he said. \u2018About two o\u2019clock I heard a noise,\nso I armed myself and crept out into the hall. Then I heard it again,\napparently in the study, so I stole down the corridor, opened the door,\nand rushed in. I turned on the lights, ran over to the open window,\nlooked out, and saw a man scurry down the ladder, jump off, and run. I\nfired twice, but evidently missed him,\u2019 he concluded.\n\u2018Were you home all evening, Mr. Tracy?\u2019\n\u2018No. I had just put up the car when I heard the shots and saw a figure\ndash around the house.\u2019\n\u2018I\u2019ll take a look at your car later, Tracy.\n\u2018Withers, show me exactly how you found Lane before you lifted him to\nthe divan.\u2019\nAs Withers righted an overturned chair, fitted its legs carefully to\nfour impressions in the rug at the right of a smoking-stand, sat down,\nand slumped over to the left, Fordney said, \u2018That\u2019s enough. Which one of\nyou killed him?\u2019\n            Why did Fordney make this startling accusation?\n\u2018Strike two!\u2019 shouted Umpire Starlen.\n\u2018Kill the Umpire! You big bum! Thief!\u2019\nProfessor Fordney turned in his place directly behind the plate to look\nat the excited man in the next box, waving an empty pop-bottle. He\nsmiled. Couldn\u2019t blame a chap for getting excited. Starlen did seem to\nbe calling them wrong today. That last one _was_ wide!\nWhat a ball game! Six to three in favor of Philadelphia, last half of\nthe ninth, three on, two out, and three and two on the mighty Babe. The\ncrowd was on its feet, yelling and stamping.\nThe excited pitcher delivered the next throw quickly. Just as Babe\nconnected with it for a home run a bottle hurtled through the air with\nterrific force and caught Starlen on the back of the head. He went down\nlike a shot.\nPandemonium broke loose. Women screamed, and a panic was threatened.\n\u2018That\u2019s him! That\u2019s him!\u2019 shouted several people, as a policeman ran\ndown the ramp and grabbed the man who had attracted Fordney\u2019s attention.\n\u2018Tryin\u2019 to get away, are you?\u2019 bellowed the cop.\n\u2018I didn\u2019t do it! Let go of me!\u2019 he cried, as the officer dragged him to\nthe office.\nFordney followed. \u2018May I ask a few questions?\u2019 he inquired.\n\u2018Let\u2019s see your score card, young man. H\u2019m, why didn\u2019t you record that\nlast hit? Everything else is here.\u2019\n\u2018Why, I was running at the time. I had an engagement.\u2019\n\u2018I see,\u2019 said Fordney. \u2018Officer, you have the wrong man. He didn\u2019t do\nit.\u2019\n\u2018You\u2019ll find Walter Briggs interesting, Fordney. He\u2019s been all over the\nworld,\u2019 said Attorney Hamilton over the telephone. \u2018He\u2019s turned up after\ntwo years, claiming his uncle\u2019s fortune. Better dine with us tonight.\u2019\n\u2018Thanks, I\u2019ll be glad to. See you at eight.\u2019\nAs the three men sat around the dinner-table, Fordney remarked: \u2018You\u2019re\na fortunate chap, Briggs. What have you been doing in the thirty-two\nyears you have been away from America?\u2019\n\u2018Well, lots of things. Mr. Hamilton, no doubt, told you I went to the\nCongo with Father when I was three. When he died, I attended school in\nEngland. Then I traveled for a while; did a bit of tiger-shooting in\nAfrica, killed elephants in India, and became an ivory-trader, roaming\nover the Orient four or five years. I finally drifted into Russia, where\nI was a technical advisor to the Soviet.\u2019\n\u2018What a jolly life you\u2019ve had, Briggs!\u2019\n\u2018Not altogether, Professor. I was in Manchuria, where life was anything\nbut jolly. And then, being in sympathy with the Chinese, I took an\nactive part in the Sino-Japanese War. It was in China I learned of my\nuncle\u2019s death, so I came to New York immediately.\u2019\n\u2018Are you remaining here?\u2019 asked Hamilton.\n\u2018No. Me for Paris as soon as things are settled.\u2019\nAfter a pleasant evening, the three men parted. Reaching home, Fordney\nhesitated about telephoning Hamilton. After all, it _was_ his duty to\nadvise him to check Briggs\u2019s story carefully before turning over the\ninheritance. As for him, he was frankly skeptical!\n\u2018You fellows _must_ remember that more often than otherwise the little,\nseemingly inconsequential trifles, placed together, lead to the solution\nof crime. Never take anything for granted; examine thoroughly what\nappear to be the most unimportant details. You didn\u2019t do so well with\nyour last lesson,\u2019 said Professor Fordney, addressing his class. \u2018Now\ntry your wits at this one.\n\u2018\u201cI know it sounds fishy, Inspector,\u201d\u2019 continued he, reading from a\npaper, \u2018\u201cbut I was walkin\u2019 along Sixteenth Street mindin\u2019 my business.\nWhen I gets in front of number 26 I hears a dame scream \u2018Help! Murder!\u2019\nso I dashed up the steps to the house, pushed open the door, and rushed\nin. As I was halfway through the hall, a big guy steps out of a room and\nsays, \u2018Ah, there, Mr. Farrell, just in time!\u2019 I asks him what\u2019s goin\u2019\non, and just then three coppers came in and takes me, this guy, and a\nwoman, in. Neither one of them would talk to me on the way, so I don\u2019t\nknow what it\u2019s all about.\u201d\n\u2018\u201cI\u2019m going around myself,\u201d replied the Inspector. \u201cI\u2019ll talk with you\nwhen I get back.\u201d\n\u2018As Kelley turned the knob at number 26, the door was violently pushed\nopen in his face.\n\u2018\u201cSorry,\u201d said Detective Bradford. \u201cJust going back to Headquarters.\nFound plenty of dope all right. Here\u2019s something you\u2019ll be interested\nin,\u201d showing Kelley a man\u2019s hat initialed \u201cD.F.\u201d \u201cThere are three\npackets of cocaine under the sweatband.\u201d\n\u2018This story, of course, is fictitious,\u2019 said Fordney, putting down the\npaper, \u2018but it illustrates my point. There\u2019s just one, small,\nunimportant detail that\u2019s wrong. To repeat, you _must learn_ to detect\ninconsistencies quickly, however insignificant. Quickly, now!\u2019\nIn the next few anecdotes you will see the Professor at work and at\nplay, on cases both serious and amusing, involving pure deduction.\nAs in the preceding cases, however, every fact, with the clue necessary\nto the solution, is given. There is only one right and logical answer to\neach\u2014to be deduced from the evidence presented.\nTime yourself; see how long it takes _you_ to deduce the answer. And\nthen, after you have solved or missed them, try them on your friends.\nThey make a fascinating game\u2014and there are lots of people who don\u2019t play\nbridge.\n\u2018Tell your story to Professor Fordney,\u2019 said the superintendent,\nintroducing the conductor.\n\u2018Well,\u2019 said Jackson, \u2018last night just after we left Albany, lower eight\nlet out a terrifying shriek. I was standing at one end of the car, the\nmaid, porter, and brakeman at the other end. We met at the berth as\nBriggs was gasping his last from a knife wound in the heart. I\nimmediately had both doors of the car guarded as well as the doors to\nthe washrooms. Every berth was occupied, and by this time the passengers\nwere milling around in the aisle.\n\u2018I began to look for the missing knife with which Briggs had been\nkilled. Every passenger, even the maid, brakeman, and porter, every inch\nof the car and all baggage, were searched, but still we failed to find\nit.\n\u2018The window-sills were covered with freshly fallen snow and an\nexamination proved that none of them had been opened. No one had left\nthe car and no one had entered either washroom. I knew the knife must be\nin the car\u2014but where?\n\u2018Washington, our old Negro porter, really discovered the murderer\u2019s\nidentity by \u201cscrutinizin\u2019 \u2019em all.\u201d\n\u2018I know your reputation, Professor, so you will probably have little\ndifficulty in determining how Washington located the assassin, but I\u2019ll\nbet you can\u2019t tell me where I found the knife.\u2019\nJackson\u2019s face fell as Fordney quickly replied, \u2018As there was only one\npossible place it could have been, you found it....\u2019\n           How long did it take _you_ to discover the knife?\n\u2018Can it be possible that this has happened to me!\u2019 thought Everett\nTaber, as he stood in the National Bank of New York ready to deposit his\nfortune. Having completed his arrangements late the day before with the\nbank\u2019s executives, he was the first patron of the morning. Standing\nalone in the bank\u2019s commodious quarters, he regretted he had no one with\nwhom to share his happiness.\nSuddenly, as he was making out his deposit slip, he decided to use his\nown name, Everett Mead, instead of his stepfather\u2019s name, by which he\nhad been known most of his life. It would be a simple matter to arrange\nthis with the officials later. As he blotted the deposit slip, Everett\nMead felt a new sense of poise and self-assurance take possession of\nhim. He gazed fondly at the name which proclaimed him a wealthy man. By\nchanging it he could completely sever former associations and start life\nanew. What a wonderful day it was!\nThe cashier, impressed with the amount of the deposit, was very obliging\nand wondered, as he thought of his own meager salary, how it would feel\nto have so much money.\n\u2018I see you are left-handed, Mr. Mead,\u2019 he said, in an effort to appear\ninterested in such an important personage.\n\u2018Yes,\u2019 smilingly.\nHe left the bank without further conversation. Less than an hour later\nhis name had been forged to a check for five thousand dollars, despite\nthe fact that no one knew he had changed his name and no one had seen\nhim make out his deposit slip.\n Professor Fordney, acquainted with the facts, knew immediately how the\n                 forgery had been accomplished. Do you?\n                      _The Christmas Eve Tragedy_\n\u2018Professor Fordney,\u2019 said Sheriff Brown, of Lake Dalton, \u2018I came to New\nYork to ask your help in clearing up the murder of Horace Perkins at\nLuckley Lodge.\u2019\n\u2018Sit down and tell me about it,\u2019 invited Fordney.\n\u2018The family chauffeur, returning from the station at ten o\u2019clock on\nChristmas Eve, found Perkins lying in a field, five yards off the Lodge\ndrive, with his skull bashed in.\u2019\n\u2018He telephoned me immediately and I instructed him to see that nothing\nwas disturbed. Arriving fifteen minutes later, I personally examined the\nground so no clues would be destroyed.\n\u2018The _only_ footprints to be found were six of Perkins\u2019s leading from\nthe drive to the spot where he lay. Around the body were a number of\ndeep impressions about two inches square. It had been snowing all day\nuntil half an hour before the discovery of Perkins.\n\u2018Leading away from the body and ending at the main road, two hundred\nyards distant, were four lines of these same impressions, about three\nand a half feet apart in length and about fourteen inches in width. In\nsome places, however, they were badly run together.\n\u2018A stranger in our parts is quickly noted and investigation failed to\nreveal a recent one. There were absolutely no other clues and I could\nfind no motive for the crime. It has me stumped, Professor,\u2019 concluded\nBrown.\n\u2018Give me a little time,\u2019 said Fordney. \u2018Perhaps I can help. I\u2019ll call\nyou at your hotel.\u2019\nAn hour later, he said over the telephone, \u2018Sheriff, look for a man\nwho.... Such a person only could possibly have committed the murder.\u2019\n                     What did Fordney say to Brown?\n\u2018You\u2019ve heard me speak of my eccentric friend, Joe Leimert, haven\u2019t you,\nProfessor?\u2019 inquired Jud. \u2018Great character! His costly new Los Angeles\npenthouse is the despair of architects, but it reflects Joe, who cares\nlittle for the opinions of others. Particularly in the matter of baths\nis his independence reflected. While he has six of them, he is fondest\nof the one leading off his own room.\n\u2018It is a large all-tile bath twenty-four feet long, fifteen wide, and\nseven high, without a single window. He went in to bathe a few days ago,\nlocked the door on the inside, as was his habit, and turned the cold\nwater full on. When he went to turn it off, he found to his dismay that\nthe mechanism controlling the drain and the taps was out of order. He\ncouldn\u2019t let the water out and he couldn\u2019t turn the tap off. Neither\ncould he unlock the door, and it was impossible to make himself heard.\nWhat a predicament! There he was in a locked bath with no window,\ncouldn\u2019t open or break down the door, couldn\u2019t let the water out, or\nturn it off, and he had no way of attracting attention.\n\u2018Such a situation might have disturbed most people, but not Joe. He\nleisurely proceeded with his bath and, when finished, nonchalantly\ndeparted.\u2019\n\u2018My dear Jud,\u2019 smiled the Professor, \u2018your friend was indeed eccentric.\nOf course, there was only one way out for him.\u2019\n                   This one\u2019s easy, don\u2019t you think?\n                      _Murder in the First Degree_\n\u2018Well, Inspector, we have your man,\u2019 said Fordney as he walked into the\noffice. \u2018He gave us a merry chase, though.\n\u2018What a cool one this murderer is! He calmly ate his dinner while\nplanning the crime. He didn\u2019t give the cashier a chance\u2014just brutally\nshot him down in cold blood\u2014and all for thirty dollars. I tell you,\nInspector, a man doesn\u2019t need much incentive to commit murder these\ndays. After shooting the cashier, he made a fast get-away in a waiting\ncar.\n\u2018Fortunately, there was a policeman having dinner in the restaurant at\nthe time, and he gave orders that nothing was to be disturbed at the\ntable where the suspected murderer had eaten.\n\u2018There are several witnesses who will identify him, including the\nwaitress who served him, but no jury will convict on that alone.\n\u2018While I found none of the suspect\u2019s fingerprints, personal effects, or\nphysical traces at or on the table, I did find there a sure means of\nconviction. I am positive he calmly premeditated this outrage while\neating his dinner.\u2019\n\u2018I hope you\u2019re right, Professor,\u2019 said Inspector Kelley, \u2018but both he\nand his attorney seem confident. They claim the gun was discharged\naccidentally.\u2019\n\u2018They\u2019ll never get away with that. The Prosecuting Attorney will be able\nto prove that this man deliberately planned the crime while eating his\ndinner. It\u2019s murder in the first degree!\u2019\n         How did the Professor know the crime was premeditated?\n                       _A Rendezvous with Death_\n\u2018One runs into unique conspiracies in my work,\u2019 said Professor Fordney\nover his after-dinner coffee. \u2018Here is the clue to that Stone case you\nare all interested in,\u2019 he continued, passing the following newspaper\nadvertisement:\n  WANTED. Competent private secretary. Unusual salary and opportunity\n  for young man speaking Spanish. Culture and refinement necessary\n  qualifications. Address KR 164.\n\u2018I don\u2019t see how that gave you a lead. Looks innocent enough to me,\u2019\nremarked one of the guests.\n\u2018Well,\u2019 said the Professor, \u2018that ad furnished the strongest link in my\nchain of evidence. I had information that Jack Carroll was infatuated\nwith Stone\u2019s wife. At the suggestion of his wife, Stone answered this ad\nand received a reply requesting him to call for a personal interview.\nThat interview was with death!\n\u2018Mrs. Stone, when questioned, said she and her husband had not been on\nparticularly friendly terms recently and that the last she saw of him\nwas when he left for White Plains to see about the position.\n\u2018I called at the newspaper office and was informed that the ad had been\ninserted by Jonathan Gills, Pomeroy Hotel. They remembered it because\nMr. Gills had telephoned asking if there were any replies to his ad.\nDespite the affirmative answer, they had never been called for. I found\nJonathan Gills was unknown at the Pomeroy Hotel.\n\u2018I learned from Mrs. Stone that her husband had answered the ad in\nlong-hand and that he was left-handed and a very poor penman.\n\u2018Pondering the matter, though puzzled at first, I finally hit upon the\nmanner in which Stone had been led to his death,\u2019 concluded Fordney.\n                    How do _you_ think it was done?\n\u2018Here\u2019s a story that should amuse you, Jean,\u2019 said Professor Fordney to\nhis efficient and charming secretary.\nHe laughed heartily as he handed her a letter from his old friend,\nGeorge Collins, government investigator in Florida.\nJean read the following:\n  An old sailor sitting on the sands of Nassau mending his fishing net\n  was approached by three rum-runners shortly after the break of dawn.\n  They came seeking his advice in connection with a wager they had made\n  among themselves the night before.\n  The three of them, having sampled too freely of the liquor they were\n  to take the next day to Miami, had put up three thousand dollars as a\n  prize for the owner of the last boat to reach Miami. The fact that\n  their boss was in a hurry for the liquor had been completely\n  forgotten.\n  Sobered, they realized the ridiculousness of the wager but while\n  anxious to reach Miami as quickly as possible, they all agreed it was\n  not to be changed.\n  The old sailor continued weaving the cords into his net with slow\n  deliberation. In a few minutes, calling them to his side, he whispered\n  exactly the same advice into the ear of each.\n  A smile spread over his weather-beaten face and he chuckled as the\n  three rum-runners raced to the boats and started for Miami at top\n  speed.\n\u2018It is amusing,\u2019 laughed Jean, \u2018but he forgot to say what the old sailor\nwhispered!\u2019\n\u2018That\u2019s for you to figure out, young lady. I\u2019ve never been a rum-runner,\nbut I\u2019ve got the answer.\u2019\n       What advice did the old sailor whisper to the rum-runners?\n\u2018As the \u00cele de France slipped from her berth, Europe-bound, John Morgan,\nthe brother of New York\u2019s largest theatrical producer, waved good-bye to\nhis family on the dock,\u2019 said Professor Fordney.\n\u2018Arriving in Paris a week later, he registered at the H\u00f4tel Crillon. At\ntwo o\u2019clock next morning, he called the office and demanded he be given\nanother suite immediately, saying he didn\u2019t like the view from his\npresent rooms. This, despite the fact that he had occupied\u2014in fact,\ninsisted upon\u2014this suite many times in the past.\n\u2018Because of his prominence and wealth, he was accommodated at once.\n\u2018Moving on to Berlin four days later, he registered at the Hotel Adlon.\nThe manager, anxious to please a brother of the internationally known\nproducer, greeted him personally. He afterward remarked how worried Mr.\nMorgan appeared at the time.\n\u2018At two o\u2019clock in the morning a repetition of the Paris occurrence took\nplace.\n\u2018From Berlin he went in turn to London, Copenhagen, Brussels, Vienna,\nBucharest, and Sofia, spending exactly four days in each place. He then\nwent to Teheran, Persia. He explained to the American Consul there that\nhe had come to Persia to sample at first hand the celebrated wines of\nShiraz, and also to continue his search for one Mirah Svari, a mystic he\nhad met in New York, and for whom he had sought vainly all over Europe.\n\u2018On the fourth day in Teheran, he was found dead of an overdose of\nhashish, in a squalid house in an unsavory quarter.\n\u2018Receiving news of his death, his attorney in New York, acting on\nprevious instructions, opened his will, in which he had left his entire\nfortune of five million dollars to the producer.\n\u2018But, strange as it may seem, it was found John Morgan never had a\nbrother. What a situation!\n \u2018Under the circumstances, and according to law, who received the huge\n             fortune?\u2019 smiled Fordney to his dinner guests.\n                    _The Professor Stops a Blunder_\nAt four o\u2019clock Thursday afternoon, Louis Mundy unexpectedly received a\ntelegram requesting him to return home immediately, as his brother was\nill.\nAt eight that evening, he alighted from the plane in Washington. He had\nnot been in the city during the past two months. Hurrying to his\nsuburban home, he found his brother greatly improved. At ten o\u2019clock he\nset out on a hike through the country, returning at midnight.\nThese facts were all verified.\nBetween eleven and twelve o\u2019clock that night, John Skidder was murdered,\nand the only thing missing from his house was a note for ten thousand\ndollars signed by Mundy.\nSkidder\u2019s secretary said the note was habitually kept at the office and\nthat she was very surprised when he took it home that evening.\nMundy declared he saw or passed no one on his hike, but under severe\nquestioning admitted having been near Skidder\u2019s house shortly after\neleven o\u2019clock.\nA thorough investigation revealed that Skidder had no known enemies and\nno one, other than Mundy, had the slightest reason for wishing him dead.\nMundy was consequently arrested. As he knew Skidder lived with only an\nold man servant (who was out until after twelve that night), the police\nbelieved he had gone unobserved to the house, demanded the note, and,\nwhen refused, had murdered Skidder. No one but Mundy could possibly\nprofit by the disappearance of the note. As it was due in ten days and\nhe was in no position to meet it, they anticipated little difficulty in\nobtaining a conviction due to the strong motive and weak alibi.\nAsked his opinion, Professor Fordney surprisingly said he DIDN\u2019T believe\nany American jury would convict Mundy.\n  He was right\u2014 Now, don\u2019t argue! There\u2019s only one answer. Don\u2019t peek!\nPeter Johannes had one burning ambition\u2014to commit a perfect crime. After\nmuch thinking and careful planning, he chose burglary for his experiment\nand a large brownstone mansion for the scene of his action.\nLearning its occupants had left town, he arrayed himself in a business\nsuit of conservative cut, flung a light topcoat over his arm, picked up\na Gladstone bag, covered with foreign labels, and set out.\nHe had ascertained, of course, when the policeman patrolling that beat\nwas farthest away. At such a time he drove up in his swanky sport\nroadster, swung jauntily to the sidewalk, skipped up the steps, and\nfitted a skeleton key into the lock, which yielded easily. So far so\ngood, he thought.\nInside, he adjusted a black mask to his eyes and silk gloves to his\nhands: the former for a bit of local color he couldn\u2019t resist; the\nlatter for more practical purposes. What a jolly thing this burglaring\nwas!\nHe quickly filled his Gladstone with silver and other valuables.\nHurrying out, he removed his gloves after closing the door.\n\u2018Done, and not a single clue left!\u2019 he said to himself.\nAs he was about to descend the steps, he saw out of the corner of his\neye the policeman rounding the corner. Feigning disinterest, he quickly\npushed the bell-button and stood there whistling.\n\u2018Hey, you!\u2019 shouted the policeman, now standing at the bottom of the\nsteps. \u2018What are you doin\u2019 there? Them people ain\u2019t home.\u2019\n\u2018Howdy, Officer. How goes it?\u2019 said our hero blithely as he turned to\ngreet the bluecoat. \u2018I know they\u2019re not home; been trying to raise\nsomeone for five minutes. Annoying, too, after running out to see them.\nOh, well,\u2019 he continued, \u2018I\u2019ll be going along,\u2019 as he unconcernedly\npicked up his bag.\n\u2018You bet you will\u2014right to the hoosegow,\u2019 bellowed the guardian of the\npeace. \u2018Your story I might have believed, but.... Come on, now, I\u2019m\ntakin\u2019 you down.\u2019\n   Alas for the perfect crime! \u2018What caused our hero\u2019s arrest?\u2019 asked\n                    Professor Fordney of his class.\n                    _The Professor Sees Through It_\n\u2018Let\u2019s go in to dinner\u2014it\u2019s twenty minutes after six, and I\u2019m starved,\u2019\nsaid Hawkins.\n\u2018Right!\u2019 responded Professor Fordney, his train companion, \u2018I\u2019m hungry,\ntoo.\u2019\nThe two men had met only a few minutes before, as casually as travelers\ndo, but already seemed to find each other agreeable company.\nAt dinner Hawkins explained he was a conductor on another railroad and\nbemoaned the loss of passenger traffic. Fordney, too, decried the\ndepression and its effects.\nWhen the conductor came through, Hawkins tendered a pass with a friendly\nremark, and Fordney, who said he had boarded the train in such a hurry\nhe didn\u2019t have time to purchase a ticket, paid a cash fare. Neither he\nnor the conductor having proper change, he borrowed fourteen cents from\nHawkins.\nAfter an enjoyable dinner, they went back to the club car for a smoke\nand continued their chat.\n\u2018Ever been in Savannah, Mr. Hawkins?\u2019 asked Fordney.\n\u2018Why, yes. Several times. Why?\u2019\n\u2018Oh, nothing in particular. Charming city, isn\u2019t it?\u2019\n\u2018Yes, it is, but I like the quaintness of New Orleans better, myself.\u2019\nAnd so they chatted through a pleasant evening until Hawkins, with a\nyawn, said: \u2018Well, it\u2019s a quarter to eleven. Bedtime for me. See you in\nthe morning. Good-night, Professor. I\u2019ve enjoyed knowing you.\u2019\n\u2018Good-night,\u2019 responded Fordney. \u2018I\u2019ll give you the fourteen cents in\nthe morning. Don\u2019t let the fact that I\u2019m aware of your deception keep\nyou awake!\u2019\n\u2018What?\u2019 cried the amazed Hawkins.\n                      _The Kidnapers\u2019 Cleverness_\n\u2018There are times,\u2019 mused Professor Fordney from the depths of the most\ncomfortable chair in the lounge of the University Club, \u2018when the\ncriminal does show ingenuity of a high order. I recall a most\ninteresting and baffling case on which I worked ten years ago.\n\u2018A wealthy man whose daughter had been kidnaped had been warned that, if\nhe appealed to the police, she would be killed. Consequently, it was\ndifficult to get his co\u00f6peration in running down the criminals. However,\nupon receiving the following note delivered in an express package 12\u2033 \u00d7\n12\u2033 \u00d7 12\u2033 he sought my advice.\n  Send us, by the means herein given you, $5,000 in cash, at exactly\n  midnight tonight. If you do so, your daughter will be returned\n  unharmed.\n\u2018My client did as directed and his child was returned safely next day.\n\u2018Do you know, Jim,\u2019 asked Fordney of his fireside companion, \u2018what means\nthe kidnapers employed that made trapping of them, or discovery of their\nwhereabouts, absolutely impossible? There\u2019s a nice little problem in\ndeduction for a rising young attorney,\u2019 he laughed.\n   After ten minutes of deep silence on Jim\u2019s part, he said, \u2018I can\u2019t\n                figure it out, Professor. What was it?\u2019\nIt was a dark, starless, moonless night. The nearest habitation was five\nmiles. The eyes of no animal ever shine in the dark unless there is a\nlight by which they can be reflected, and a man\u2019s eyes never shine under\nany circumstances.\nTherefore, Butler could not possibly have seen any eyes shining at him\nin the dark. It was clearly murder.\n  And thy deep eyes, amid the gloom,\n  Shine like jewels in a shroud.\nNot even a prohibition agent would use alcohol in an automobile radiator\nin or about Miami!\n  The oil and wine of merry meeting.\nThe Professor knew it would take a keener pair of eyes than Bronson\u2019s to\nsee a nod in the dark.\nThe lights had not been turned on. Remember?\n  Darkness visible.\nUnless Bob Kewley had returned home after telling the Professor he was\ngoing to the theater, he could not have known the library door was\nlocked. The fact that he did, coupled with the strong motive, naturally\ndirected suspicion to him. He inadvertently gave himself away.\n  Error will slip through a crack, while truth will stick in a doorway.\nHad Johnson wound his watch immediately before 2 A.M. Friday, the time\nof his alleged kidnaping, it would not have been running Sunday\nafternoon when he recovered consciousness and said he heard it ticking.\nNo standard-make watch will run sixty hours without winding.\n  This act is an ancient tale new told;\n  Being urged at a time unseasonable.\nIn a small room the intruder would _unquestionably_ have heard Hyde\ndialing Headquarters, and therefore could not have been unaware of his\npresence.\nAs Hyde had obviously lied about this, Fordney was convinced he had\nfabricated the entire story in order to sell the formula twice.\n  Don\u2019t tell me of deception; a lie is a lie, whether it be a lie to the\n  eye or a lie to the ear.\nThere had been a dry, hot spell at that place for twenty-two days. Irene\nGreer\u2019s hair was matted with mud; therefore, she must have been attacked\nelsewhere.\n  The face of things appeareth not the same far off and when we see them\n  right at hand.\nGifford could not have been shot at the time he called Fordney, as he\nwas found with a bullet through his heart. The Professor\u2019s theory was\nthat Gifford wanted his death to appear as murder in order to protect\nhis heavy insurance.\n  The heart does not lie.\n                   9. _They Usually Forget Something_\nThe note, although misspelled, poorly expressed, and written by a\nseemingly illiterate hand, was punctuated properly, in two places. A\nsemicolon and a comma would not have been used had the writer been an\nuneducated man.\nForce of habit had betrayed him!\n  You write with ease to show your breeding,\n  But easy writing\u2019s curst hard reading.\n                   10. _The Professor Gives a Lesson_\nCardoni said he saw the kidnapers around a table as he peered through\nthe keyhole. Yale locks do not have keyholes.\nKelley was justified in throwing him out, don\u2019t you think? The class\nfound this an easy one\u2014did you?\n  Since your eyes are so sharpe that you cannot onely looke through a\n  milstone, but cleane through the minde.\nThe policeman ran through the hall and unlocked the kitchen door.\nThe doors to the porch and cellar were locked on the inside. Had the old\nlady committed suicide, she could not have locked the door leading to\nthe hall from the outside.\nThe murderer, in leaving, locked this door and forgot to remove the key.\nThe inevitable slip!\n  A blockhead cannot come in, nor go away, like a man of sense.\nThe student readily recognized the absurdity of the Professor\u2019s story\nwhich he had given to his class to test their quick detection of a\nglaring inconsistency. If it must be explained, an orchestra under\npersonal leadership does not play during the showing of a \u2018talkie.\u2019\nRight?\n  Wit marries ideas lying far apart, by a sudden jerk of the\n  understanding.\nSmith said he _ran_ after the burglar. Had he done so he could not have\nknown the cellar window had been chiseled open. Therefore, his story was\nobviously faked.\n  A lie never lives to be old.\nAs Diana Lane was walking down the corridor with her back to Nora, it\nwas impossible for the servant to know Diana was wearing her famous\nemerald pendant.\n  There is an alchemy of quiet malice by which women can concoct a\n  subtle poison from ordinary trifles.\nAs Picus said there was no breeze, the distress flag would have hung\nlimp against the mast, and the Captain could not have seen, at that\ndistance, whether or not the flag was upside down.\nThat\u2019s all the Professor needed to determine the falsity of his alibi.\nHowever, Picus was a poor sailor. While the International Distress\nSignal is a flag flown upside down, it is by custom and regulation\nalways flown at half-mast.\n  ... And the sea charm\u2019d into a calm so still\n  That not a wrinkle ruffles her smooth face.\nJasper said he found the woman sitting _up_ in the _middle_ of the\nchariot. The motion of the merry-go-round would have made it impossible\nfor a dead body to remain upright in the middle of the chariot.\n  Sir, you are giving a reason for it; but that will not make it\n  right....\nThe murderer tried to give the impression that Dawson had died before\nfinishing the incriminating note. Had he written it and died before\ncompleting it, he could not have put the pen back in the tray where it\nwas found.\nIn his effort to incriminate Lynch, the murderer had been too cautious.\nA costly oversight.\n  Man\u2019s caution often into danger turns,\n  And his guard falling crushes him to death.\nThe Professor knew it was not suicide, because Thompson\u2019s coat, which\nwas flung _across_ the room, was blood-stained. Quite impossible if he\nhad taken his own life.\n  Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies.\nThere were _no_ finger-prints on the gun which killed Claudia Mason. She\ncould not have shot herself in the temple and then wiped off the\nrevolver.\nThe murderer neglected to get her fingerprints on the gun.\n  A fool cannot be an actor, though an actor may act a fool\u2019s part.\nIt would have been impossible for Fellows to have hastily dialed a\nnumber in the _dark_. Try it!\n  Haste trips up its own heels, fetters and stops itself.\nThe fact that the bullet was found in the body and the only trace of its\nfiring was the hole in the curtain _below_ the window-sill proved\nconclusively the shot could not have been fired from within the room.\nRocca entered at the moment his sister shot Chase from outside. Grabbing\nthe gun from her hand, he chivalrously protected her.\n  But, friend, the thing is clear\u2014speaks for itself.\nThe butler said that, as he called for help, Dudley, a stranger, rushed\nin.\nOwings had locked up before leaving and, therefore, Dudley could not\nhave rushed in through a locked door. The robbery was obviously framed\nby Stuben and Dudley.\n  Absurdities die of self-strangulation.\n                   23. _Before the Coroner\u2019s Inquest_\nCurry could not possibly have \u2018looked up\u2019 while rowing _upstream_ and\nseen the action he described which took place fifty yards _behind_ him.\n  The eyes of other people are the eyes that ruin us.\nBaldwin said, \u2018Mr. Cross tried to call my attention to it [safe] with a\njerk of his thumb\u2019 at a time when Cross was unconscious. Obviously\nimpossible. Baldwin was lying, which there was no reason for doing had\nhe been innocent.\n  When all sins are old in us, and go upon crutches.\n  Covetousness does but then lie in her cradle.\nKingston thought his boldness in calling attention to his own footprints\nin the carpet would distract Fordney\u2019s attention from their\nsignificance.\nThe room had been locked for three months. Of the three men, only\nWatkins rushed into the room; Fordney and Kingston halting over the\nthreshold. Therefore, the fact that Kingston\u2019s footprints were found\nnear the chair in which his uncle sat dead pointed directly to him as\nthe murderer.\n  Cunning differs from wisdom\n  As twilight from open day.\nIt would have been impossible for Mrs. Rollins to have seen a man pick\nup from the deck the bag of diamonds. On a dark, moonless night at sea\none literally cannot see his hand before his face.\n  The repose of darkness is deeper on the water than on the land.\nTaylor said the bandit wore a silver belt-buckle. This he could not have\nseen, for he stated: \u2018As the robber passed through the door, he\nunbuttoned his coat and slipped the revolver in his back pocket.\u2019\nIt would have been impossible for Taylor to have seen the man\u2019s\nbelt-buckle when his coat was buttoned.\nAs this statement was false, the rest of his account was disregarded by\nthe Professor.\n  He draweth out the thread of his verbosity\n  Finer than the staple of his argument.\nHad the man\u2019s injuries been caused only by being thrown through the\nwindshield, there would have been no blood on the front seat of the car.\nTherefore, the Professor knew the blood on the seat had been caused by\ninjuries to the man, with probable murderous intent, before he was\nthrown through the windshield.\nHis assailant had killed him, started the car, and had then hopped off\nthe running-board, hoping the wreckage would cover the murder.\n  Forethought we may have, undoubtedly, but not foresight.\nWilkins said he saw the burglar pick up a stack of ten- and\ntwenty-dollar bills from the table in the center of the large library.\nHad he not been guilty, he could not have known what the denominations\nof the bills were. It would have been impossible to have determined this\nfrom the doorway.\nAn unconscious slip on his part.\nIf you are doubtful, just try to determine the denomination of a stack\nof bills on a table in the center of a large room, from the doorway.\n  For any man with half an eye,\n  What stands before him may espy;\n  But optics sharp it needs I ween,\n  To see what is not to be seen.\nHe was suspicious of John, the nephew, of course. Upon being asked where\nhe was at the time of the robbery, he stated he was \u2018hauling in a\nmuskie.\u2019\nUnless he had guilty knowledge, he could not possibly have known at what\ntime the robbery was committed.\nHe fell neatly into the Professor\u2019s trap, don\u2019t you think?\n  Let guilty men remember, their black deeds\n  Do lean on crutches made of slender reeds.\nPaslovsky, the witness, who could not understand or speak enough English\nto make a simple statement to the court, yet knew _exactly_ what the\nconductor yelled to the motorman.\nThis was so patently impossible that the Judge was entirely justified in\ndismissing the suit.\n  Liars are verbal forgers.\n                     32. _Death Attends the Party_\nHad Dawes fallen on the table after being shot, the jar would have\nknocked over the \u2018crazily balanced glasses.\u2019 As the Professor found the\nglasses on the table, _balanced_, it was obvious Dawes had been shot,\nthen carefully placed at the table to give the appearance of suicide. A\nbad slip!\n  There is nothing insignificant, nothing!\nThe note was written with _pencil_, yet there was no pencil found in the\nroom. Apparently the murderer wrote the note to resemble the dead man\u2019s\nhandwriting and through force of habit put it in his pocket.\n  Men are men; the best sometimes forget.\nDay said he got the blood on his muffler when he bent over Quale\u2019s body.\nAs blood coagulates and dries in a short time, it would have been\nimpossible for him to have stained his muffler unless it had touched the\nblood of Quale shortly after his death. Therefore, Fordney knew he must\nhave been with Quale soon after he was stabbed.\n  Murder, though it have no tongue,\n  Will speak with most miraculous organ.\nSullivan, the bartender, said that, as he worked the combination to open\nthe wall safe, he _heard_ the hold-up man _behind him_. As he was not\npermitted to move, he could not have known the gunman was a _big,\ntough-looking mug_, as he described him.\nAs there would be no other motive in telling this impossible story, the\nhold-up was faked.\n  Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn,\n  What dangers thou canst make us scorn.\nThe engineer said he had not seen Nelson until he was practically on top\nof him. That, of course, is impossible. An engineer of a train running\non a straight-away can see nothing as close as ten yards in front of\nhim.\n  You cram these words into mine ears,\n  Against the stomach of my sense.\nMolly said she had retired at ten, after locking her door, and had not\nawakened until Fordney had aroused her.\nYet a few minutes after Dot had been murdered, the Professor idly\n\u2018shaped the wax\u2019 of the candle on her desk. This would have been\nimpossible had not the candle been burning within a few minutes before\nhe entered.\nHer insistence that she had been asleep, together with the strong\nmotive, convinced Fordney she was involved, as was later proved.\n  Love can make us fiends as well as angels.\nHad the butler dashed in the front door as he said he did, there would\nhave been foot-tracks in the vestibule.\nRemember, the Professor \u2018splashed his way through the mud and rain, to\nthe _door_ of 27 Holden Road,\u2019 and found the vestibule spotless.\nTherefore, Wilkins was lying, and as Cannon corroborated his story, he\nwas also necessarily involved.\n  Nay, her foot speaks.\nHolmes could not have seen the bag on the bottom of the lake during a\ncloudburst. The agitation of even crystal clear water under such\nconditions would have so disturbed the surface that an object on the\nbottom could not be seen.\n  A man so lucky is rarer than a white crow.\nHolman was lying face down with his topcoat buttoned; therefore, if his\nwatch crystal had been broken by his fall, none of the glass could have\nbeen found on the floor.\n  For never, never wicked man was wise.\nThe notice of the bank failure, appearing in the _Jacksonville Herald_,\nwas dated July 5th. This could not have reached Delavin at a remote part\nof Cuba, unserviced by planes, in time for him to get back to New York\non the 6th.\nHis alibi, therefore, was completely broken, as he said the newspaper\nclipping brought him back.\n  Time is the herald of truth.\nThe secretary said he heard Waters talking to Fordney over the\ntelephone. As Fordney\u2019s name was not mentioned during the conversation,\nthe secretary could not have known to whom Waters was talking.\nIt\u2019s the little things that count\u2014in crime detection.\n  Take care lest your tongue cut off your head.\nThe driver could not possibly have seen from the front seat anyone\nstanding on the tail-gate of the big van.\n  If common sense has not the brilliancy of the sun, it has the fixity\n  of the stars.\n                  44. _The Professor is Disappointed_\nFordney pointed to the raindrops glistening on a leaf in the shoe\nimpression.\nAccording to Vi Cargo\u2019s statement, the burglar had jumped from her\nwindow after it had stopped raining.\n  The shameless have a brow of brass.\nSibyl Mortimer said Boswell had telephoned her shortly after nine. As he\nwas on the stage continuously for forty-five minutes after the curtain\nrose, he could not have telephoned her.\nObviously she had some reason for stating he did. Fordney was quick to\ndetect the flaw in her alibi.\n  It is not wise to be wiser than is necessary.\nA strong east wind blew _off_ the lake; therefore, regardless of the\ndirection in which he was walking, Rice\u2019s hat could not possibly have\nblown into the lake.\nThe Professor was naturally suspicious of him when he told such a\nridiculous lie.\n  Is\u2019t possible? Sits the wind in that corner?\n                   47. _The Professor Studies a Coat_\nAs the man had removed his overcoat on entering the Professor\u2019s\nliving-room, it was perfectly patent he had not been handcuffed.\nHe said he ran over to Fordney\u2019s immediately after the bandits left.\n  Truth has not such an urgent air.\nFordney doubted Palmer\u2019s innocence because of his statement, \u2018I\u2019d got\nthere not more than five minutes behind him.\u2019\nThere was, of course, no way he could have determined when Frank had\narrived at the cabin.\n  In general, treachery, though at first sufficiently cautious, yet in\n  the end betrays itself.\n                    49. _Sergeant Reynolds\u2019s Theory_\nThe Professor told Reynolds, \u2018There was no blood between the road and\nthe boulder.\u2019\nHad the man _rolled_ down the embankment, there would have been some\nblood on the rocks along the path his body took.\n  How hast thou purchased this experience?\n    By my penny of observation.\nAs no safe locks unless the combination is turned, Shaeffer\u2019s story of\n_banging_ it closed and then the robbers working on it five minutes was\nridiculous!\n  He cometh unto you with a tale which holdeth children from play, and\n  old men from the chimney corner.\nHad Smith committed suicide, the window through which he jumped would\nnot have been closed as Fordney found it.\n  Every crime has, in the moment of its perpetration, its own avenging\n  angel.\nKelley arrested Weeds, the butler. He said he dropped on the bed the\nblood-covered towel with which he was trying to arrest the flow from the\nmaid\u2019s wrist as Jones struck at him.\nYet Kelley and Fordney found the bed coverlet _immaculate_. Had Weeds\ndone as he said, there would have been blood-stains on the bedcover.\n  Blood follows blood.\nThe three sets of Bob\u2019s footprints in the path told Fordney the story.\nHad Bob been at the house when his friend was shot, as he contended,\nthere would have been _four_ sets of his footprints.\n  That is to be wise to see that which lies before your feet.\nHad the accident occurred as explained by Carroll, the oar of Ridge\u2019s\nboat could not have been found, as it was, at the dock _opposite_ the\npoint where he jumped in. The current would have deposited it\ndownstream. Therefore, the Professor recommended the detention of the\nbrothers.\n  More water glideth by the mill, than wots the miller of.\n                    55. _Tragedy at the Convention_\nFordney suspected Pollert because of his own statements that he did not\nknow Hurlenson had returned to the hotel. Yet, when he said he heard a\nshot, he ran _directly_ to Hurlenson\u2019s room.\nAs his own room was down the corridor, he could not have known from what\nroom the shot came, and he had no reason to assume it came from\nHurlenson\u2019s room.\n  Politics, as a trade, finds most and leaves nearly all dishonest.\nThese murderers, like many others, betrayed themselves by a simple\noversight. One look at the ladder and Fordney knew no man could have\nclimbed up or down it. The thirty-foot ladder was placed _two_ feet from\nthe house. Any person ascending or descending the ladder in such a\nposition would have fallen backwards before reaching the top or bottom.\n  To all facts there are laws,\n  The effect has its cause,\n  And I mount to the cause.\nThere is a screen on the grandstand behind the home plate.\nFordney had noticed a few seconds before, in the box next to him, the\nman whom the policeman had caught running down the ramp. As he could not\nhave thrown a bottle through the screen, and, in the time at his\ndisposal, could not have reached either side of the screen, Fordney knew\nhe was innocent.\nHe had noticed the man _after_ two strikes and three balls had been\ncalled, and the pitcher delivered the next ball quickly.\n  We must have bloody noses and crack\u2019d crowns,\n  God\u2019s me, my horse!\nHamilton knew the real Walter Briggs had gone to Africa as a child. So,\nwhen this chap said he had shot tigers in Africa, Fordney was very, very\nskeptical. There are no tigers in Africa. Oh, well\u2014look it up yourself!\n  A traveler without observation is a bird without wings.\nThe inconsistency is this: Farrell said he _pushed_ open the door. Yet\nBradford, _inside_ the house, _pushed_ the door in Kelley\u2019s face as the\nInspector was entering.\nIf Bradford _pushed_ the door in Kelley\u2019s face, Farrell must have\n_pulled_ the door to open it.\n  The smallest hair throws its shadow.\nEvery piece of baggage had been examined and every inch of the car\ninspected. All passengers, even the maid, porter, and brakeman, had been\nsearched. The knife was still in the car.\nRemember?\u2014there was nothing said about the conductor being searched. The\nknife was found in his pocket.\n  He was in logic a great crytic,\n  Profoundly skilled in analytic;\n  He could distinguish and divide\n  A hair twixt south and south-west side.\nThe forged signature was copied from the blotter which Mead had used.\n  Thou strong seducer, opportunity.\n                    62. _The Christmas Eve Tragedy_\nThe Professor said to Brown, \u2018Sheriff, look for a man in your community\nwho is skilled or adept in the use of _stilts_. Only a man on stilts\ncould have made the marks in the snow you described.\u2019\nP.S. The Professor was right.\n  Be the first to say what is self-evident,\n  And you are immortal.\nYou recall that Leimert was eccentric. No mention of bath _room_ was\nmade. Leimert\u2019s bath had no top, so he climbed out!\nSilly, what?\n  If anything is spoken in jest, it is not fair to turn it to earnest.\n                    64. _Murder in the First Degree_\nThe fact that _none_ of the suspect\u2019s fingerprints were on the dishes or\nsilver used while eating convicted him of first-degree murder.\nIn wiping his _own_ prints from the things he had handled, he destroyed\n_all_ prints\u2014those of the waitress, cook, etc.\nA damning bit of evidence that proved premeditation.\n  The weakest spot in every man is when he thinks himself to be the\n  wisest.\n                     65. _A Rendezvous with Death_\nNo one called at the _Times_ for the answers to the advertisement, yet\nStone received a reply to his letter of application. The ad was inserted\nby Carroll under the fictitious name of Jonathan Gills and answered by\nStone at his wife\u2019s suggestion. She acquainted her lover, Carroll, with\nthis fact, and he wrote Stone, arranging the meeting at which he\ndisappeared.\n  When any great design thou dost intend,\n  Think on the means, the manner, and the end.\nThe old sailor whispered to each, \u2018Run the other man\u2019s boat.\u2019 As the\nowner of the _last_ boat to reach Miami was to get the money, each one\nraced the boat he was driving. By doing so, he hoped to beat his own\nboat, which was being driven by one of the others.\n  Lookers-on many times see more than gamesters.\nJohn Morgan\u2019s _sister_, of course!\n  Let us consider the reason of the case. For nothing is law that is not\n  reason.\n                  68. _The Professor Stops a Blunder_\nMundy had been unexpectedly called to Washington. Skidder\u2019s secretary\nsaid the note was habitually kept at the office. Mundy, therefore, could\nnot possibly have known of Skidder\u2019s intention of taking it home. That\nwas exactly the weakness in the case of the police. Despite the damning\ncircumstantial evidence, motive could not be proved unless it could be\nshown that Mundy knew the note would be at Skidder\u2019s house.\n  How little do they see what is, who frame\n  Their hasty judgments upon that which seems.\nAlas! Peter Johannes had forgotten to remove his mask on leaving the\nhouse!\n  Whoever thinks a perfect work to see,\n  Thinks what ne\u2019er was, nor is, nor e\u2019er shall be.\n                  70. _The Professor Sees Through It_\nWhen Hawkins said, \u2018it\u2019s twenty minutes after six\u2019 and \u2018it\u2019s a quarter\nto eleven,\u2019 Fordney knew he was not a railroad man.\nNo railroad worker _ever_ speaks of the time in any other manner than,\n\u2018it\u2019s six-twenty\u2019 and \u2018it\u2019s ten-forty-five.\u2019\n_Ask the next conductor!_\n  There is nothing more nearly permanent in human life than a\n  well-established custom.\n                    71. _The Kidnapers\u2019 Cleverness_\nThe express package contained a carrier pigeon.\n  A bird of the air shall carry, and that which hath wings shall tell\n  the matter.\n--Copyright notice provided as in the original\u2014this e-text is public\n  domain in the country of publication.\n--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and\n  dialect unchanged.\n--In the text versions, delimited italicized text by _underscores_.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Minute Mysteries, by Harold Austin Ripley\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MINUTE MYSTERIES ***\n***** This file should be named 50603-0.txt or 50603-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan and the Online\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1926, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed\n    [Illustration: DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR: March 3, 1849]\n                UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR\n                     Stewart L. Udall, _Secretary_\n                         NATIONAL PARK SERVICE\n                      Conrad L. Wirth, _Director_\n                   _HISTORICAL HANDBOOK NUMBER NINE_\nThis publication is one of a series of handbooks describing the\nhistorical and archeological areas in the National Park System,\nadministered by the National Park Service of the United States\nDepartment of the Interior. It is printed by the Government Printing\nOffice and may be purchased from the Superintendent of Documents,\nWashington 25, D. C. Price 25 cents\n                         NATIONAL MILITARY PARK\n    [Illustration: Drum]\n         NATIONAL PARK SERVICE HISTORICAL HANDBOOK SERIES No. 9\n_The National Park System, of which Gettysburg National Military Park is\na unit, is dedicated to conserving the scenic, scientific, and historic\nheritage of the United States for the benefit and inspiration of its\npeople._\n    [Illustration: NATIONAL PARK SERVICE: DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR]\n      The Two Armies Converge on Gettysburg                             6\n      Cannonade at Dawn: Culp\u2019s Hill and Spangler\u2019s Spring             19\n      The Five Autograph Copies of the Gettysburg Address              43\n  ANNIVERSARY REUNIONS OF THE CIVIL WAR VETERANS                       50\n    [Illustration: _The field of Pickett\u2019s Charge, with his attack on\n    the Union position at The Angle in the foreground._ From the\n    Philippoteaux painting in the Gettysburg Cyclorama.]\n    [Illustration: Cannon]\nOn the gently rolling farm lands surrounding the little town of\nGettysburg, Pa., was fought one of the great decisive battles of\nAmerican history. For 3 days, from July 1 to 3, 1863, a gigantic\nstruggle between 75,000 Confederates and 88,000 Union troops raged about\nthe town and left 51,000 casualties in its wake. Heroic deeds were\nnumerous on both sides, climaxed by the famed Confederate assault on\nJuly 3 which has become known throughout the world as Pickett\u2019s Charge.\nThe Union victory gained on these fields ended the last Confederate\ninvasion of the North and marked the beginning of a gradual decline in\nSouthern military power.\nHere also, a few months after the battle, Abraham Lincoln delivered his\nclassic Gettysburg Address at the dedication of the national cemetery\nset apart as a burial ground for the soldiers who died in the conflict.\nThe situation in which the Confederacy found itself in the late spring\nof 1863 called for decisive action. The Union and Confederate armies had\nfaced each other on the Rappahannock River, near Fredericksburg, Va.,\nfor 6 months. The Confederate Army of Northern Virginia, commanded by\nGen. R. E. Lee, had defeated the Union forces at Fredericksburg in\nDecember 1862 and again at Chancellorsville in May 1863, but the nature\nof the ground gave Lee little opportunity to follow up his advantage.\nWhen he began moving his army westward, on June 3, he hoped, at least,\nto draw his opponent away from the river to a more advantageous\nbattleground. At most, he might carry the war into northern territory,\nwhere supplies could be taken from the enemy and a victory could be\nfully exploited. Even a fairly narrow margin of victory might enable Lee\nto capture one or more key cities and perhaps increase northern demands\nfor a negotiated peace.\n    [Illustration: THE GETTYSBURG CAMPAIGN]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. George Gordon Meade, Commander of the\n    Union Forces at Gettysburg._ Courtesy National Archives.]\n    [Illustration: _Gen. Robert E. Lee, Commander of the Confederate\n    Army at Gettysburg._ Courtesy National Archives.]\nConfederate strategists had considered sending aid from Lee\u2019s army to\nVicksburg, which Grant was then besieging, or dispatching help to\nGeneral Bragg for his campaign against Rosecrans in Tennessee. They\nconcluded, however, that Vicksburg could hold out until climatic\nconditions would force Grant to withdraw, and they reasoned that the\neastern campaign was more important than that of Tennessee.\nBoth Union and Confederate governments had bitter opponents at home.\nSouthern generals, reading in Northern newspapers the clamors for peace,\nhad reason to believe that their foe\u2019s morale was fast weakening. They\nfelt that the Army of Northern Virginia would continue to demonstrate\nits superiority over the Union Army of the Potomac and that the relief\nfrom constant campaigning on their own soil would have a happy effect on\nSouthern spirit. Events were to prove, however, that the chief result of\nthe intense alarm created by the invasion was to rally the populace to\nbetter support of the Union government.\n    [Illustration: _Statue of General Meade, located on Cemetery\n    Ridge._]\n    [Illustration: _The Virginia Memorial, surmounted by the statue of\n    General Lee, on Seminary Ridge._]\n    [Illustration: _Gettysburg, as it appeared from Seminary Ridge a\n    short time after the battle._ (Brady photograph.)]\nLee\u2019s plan of campaign was undoubtedly similar to that of his invasion\nwhich ended in the battle of Antietam in September 1862. He then called\nattention to the need of destroying the bridge over the Susquehanna\nRiver at Harrisburg and of disabling the Pennsylvania Railroad in order\nto sever communication with the west. \u201cAfter that,\u201d he added, \u201cI can\nturn my attention to Philadelphia, Baltimore, or Washington as may seem\nbest for our interest.\u201d\nLee had suffered an irreparable loss at Chancellorsville when\n\u201cStonewall\u201d Jackson was mortally wounded. Now reorganized into three\ninfantry corps under Longstreet, A. P. Hill, and R. S. Ewell, and a\ncavalry division under J. E. B. Stuart, a changed Army of Northern\nVirginia faced the great test that lay ahead. \u201cStonewall\u201d Jackson, the\nright hand of Lee, and in the words of the latter \u201cthe finest executive\nofficer the sun ever shone on,\u201d was no longer present to lead his corps\nin battle.\nThe long lines of gray started moving on June 3 from Fredericksburg,\nVa., first northwestward across the Blue Ridge, then northward in the\nShenandoah Valley. On June 9, one of the greatest cavalry engagements of\nthe war occurred at Brandy Station. Union horsemen, for the first time,\nheld Stuart\u2019s men on even terms. The Confederates then continued their\nmarch northward, with the right flank constantly protected by Stuart\u2019s\ncavalry, which occupied the passes of the Blue Ridge. Stuart was ordered\nto hold these mountain gaps until the advance into Pennsylvania had\ndrawn the Union Army north of the Potomac. On June 28, Hill and\nLongstreet reached Chambersburg, 16 miles north of the Pennsylvania\nboundary. Rodes\u2019 division of Ewell\u2019s corps reached Carlisle on June 27.\nEarly\u2019s command of 8,000 men had passed through Gettysburg on June 26\nand on the 28th had reached York. Early planned to take possession of\nthe bridge over the Susquehanna at Columbia, and to move on Harrisburg\nfrom the east. Lee\u2019s converging movement on Harrisburg seemed to be on\nthe eve of success.\nAn unforeseen shift of events between June 25 and 28, however,\nthreatened to deprive Lee of every advantage he had thus far gained in\nhis daring march up the Shenandoah and Cumberland Valleys. The cavalry\nengagement between Stuart and Pleasonton at Brandy Station convinced\nGen. Joseph Hooker, then in command of the Union Army, that the\nConfederate Army was moving northward. President Lincoln and General in\nChief Halleck, informed of this movement, ordered Hooker to proceed\nnorthward and to keep his command between the Confederate Army and\nWashington. When he was refused permission to abandon Harpers Ferry, and\nto add the garrison of 10,000 men to his army, Hooker asked to be\nrelieved of command. Gen. George G. Meade received orders to assume\ncommand of the army at Frederick, Md., on June 28, and he at once\ncontinued the march northward.\nGeneral Stuart, in command of the Confederate cavalry, had obtained\nconditional approval from Lee to operate against the rear of the Union\nArmy as it marched northward and then to join Lee north of the Potomac.\nAs he passed between Hooker\u2019s army and Washington, the unexpected speed\nof the Union Army forced Stuart into detours and delays, so that on June\n28 he was in eastern Maryland, wholly out of touch with the Confederate\nforce. The eyes and ears of Lee were thus closed at a time when their\nefficient functioning was badly needed.\n    [Illustration: _\u201cOld Dorm\u201d of Pennsylvania_ (now Gettysburg)\n    _College. It was used as a shelter for wounded._\nIn this state of affairs, a Confederate agent reported to Lee at\nChambersburg, Pa., on the night of June 28, that the Union forces had\ncrossed the Potomac and were in the vicinity of Frederick. With the\nentire Union Army close at hand and with many miles between him and his\nbase, Lee decided to abandon his original plan and to concentrate for\nbattle. He moved his army at once across the mountains to Cashtown, 8\nmiles from Gettysburg. Here, in Cashtown Pass, he planned to establish\nhis battle position. Rodes, then at Carlisle, and Early, at York, were\nat once ordered to this point.\nTHE TWO ARMIES CONVERGE ON GETTYSBURG.\nThe men of Heth\u2019s division, leading the Confederate advance across the\nmountain, reached Cashtown on June 29. Pettigrew\u2019s brigade was sent on\nto Gettysburg the following day to obtain supplies, but upon reaching\nthe ridge a mile west of the town, they observed Union cavalry scouts\nposted along the roads. Not having orders to bring on an engagement,\nPettigrew withdrew to Cashtown.\n    [Illustration: _Scene of the initial engagement on the morning of\n    July 1. 1. McPherson Ridge. 2. Oak Ridge._]\nIn the intervening 2 days since he had assumed command of the Union\nforces, General Meade had moved his troops northward and instructed his\nengineers to survey a defensive battle position at Pipe Creek, near\nTaneytown, in northern Maryland. Buford\u2019s cavalry, which had effectively\nshadowed Lee\u2019s advance from the mountaintops of the Blue Ridge was\nordered to make a reconnaissance in the Gettysburg area. It was these\ntroops that Pettigrew\u2019s men saw posted on the roads leading into the\ntown. Neither Lee nor Meade yet foresaw Gettysburg as a field of battle.\nEach expected to take a strong defensive position and force his\nadversary to attack.\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. John F. Reynolds._ (Courtesy National\n    Archives.)]\n    [Illustration: _Lt. Gen. Ambrose P. Hill._ (Courtesy National\n    Archives.)]\nA. P. Hill, in the absence of Lee, who was still beyond the mountains,\nnow took the initiative. At daybreak of July 1, he ordered the brigades\nof Archer and Davis, of Heth\u2019s division, to advance along the\nChambersburg Road to Gettysburg for the purpose of testing the strength\nof the Union forces. As these troops reached Marsh Creek, 4 miles from\nGettysburg, they were fired upon by Union cavalry pickets who hurriedly\nretired to inform their commander of the enemy\u2019s approach. In the\nmeantime, Buford\u2019s division of cavalry had moved from their camp just\nsouthwest of Gettysburg to McPherson Ridge, a mile west of the town.\nBuford prepared to hold out against heavy odds until aid arrived. Thus,\nsubordinate field commanders had chosen the ground for battle.\nIt was 8 a. m., July 1, when the two brigades of Archer and Davis, the\nformer to the right and the latter to the left of the Chambersburg Road,\ndeployed on Herr Ridge. Supported by Pegram\u2019s artillery, they charged\ndown the long slope and across Willoughby Run against Buford\u2019s men. The\nUnion troopers had recently received an issue of Spencer repeating\ncarbines. Dismounted, and fighting as infantrymen, they held their\nground against the spirited attacks of Heth\u2019s superior numbers. At 10\no\u2019clock timely aid arrived as troops from Gen. John F. Reynolds\u2019 First\nInfantry corps began streaming over Seminary Ridge from the south and\nrelieved Buford\u2019s exhausted fighters. Calef\u2019s battery, one of whose guns\nhad fired the first shot at Gettysburg, was replaced by Hall\u2019s Maine\nartillery. But, in a few moments, Union joy at receiving aid was offset\nby tragedy. Reynolds, close to the front lines, was killed instantly by\na sharpshooter\u2019s bullet.\nThe struggle increased in scope as more forces reached the field. When\nArcher\u2019s Confederates renewed the attack across Willoughby Run, Union\ntroops of Meredith\u2019s Iron Brigade, arriving opportunely, struck the\nflank of the Confederates and captured the greater part of the force,\nincluding General Archer. Relieved from the threat south of the\nChambersburg Pike, the 14th Brooklyn and 7th Wisconsin regiments shifted\nto the north of the Pike where the Confederates had captured a part of\nCutler\u2019s troops in the railroad cut. With renewed effort, these troops,\njoined by Dawes\u2019 6th Wisconsin, drove the Confederates steadily back,\ncapturing two Mississippi regiments in the defile. The Confederates then\nwithdrew beyond striking distance. There was a lull in the fighting\nduring the noon hour. The first encounter had given Union men\nconfidence. They had held their ground against superior numbers and had\ncaptured Archer, a brigadier general, the first Confederate general\nofficer taken since Lee assumed command.\n    [Illustration: _McPherson Ridge and Woods, the Federal position on\n    July 1. In the woods at the right, General Reynolds was killed. The\n    cupola of the Theological Seminary appears in the background._\n    (Brady photograph.)]\nTHE BATTLE OF OAK RIDGE.\nWhile the initial test of strength was being determined west of\nGettysburg by advance units, the main bulk of the two armies was\npounding over the roads from the north and south, converging upon the\nground chosen by Buford. Rodes\u2019 Confederates, hurrying southward from\nCarlisle to meet Lee at Cashtown, received orders at Biglerville to\nmarch to Gettysburg. Early, returning from York with Cashtown as his\nobjective, learned at Heidlersburg of the action at Gettysburg and was\nordered to approach by way of the Harrisburg Road.\n    [Illustration: _Chambersburg Pike, looking westward from the Federal\n    position toward Herr Ridge, where the Confederate attack began._]\nEmploying the wooded ridge as a screen from Union cavalry north of\nGettysburg, Rodes brought his guns into position on Oak Ridge about 1\no\u2019clock and opened fire on the flank of Gen. Abner Doubleday, Reynolds\u2019\nsuccessor, on McPherson Ridge. The Union commander shifted his lines\nnortheastward to Oak Ridge and the Mummasburg Road to meet the new\nattack. Rodes\u2019 Confederates struck the Union positions at the stone wall\non the ridge, but the attack was not well coordinated and resulted in\nfailure. Iverson\u2019s brigade was nearly annihilated as it made a left\nwheel to strike from the west. In the meantime, more Union troops had\narrived on the field by way of the Taneytown Road. Two divisions of\nHoward\u2019s Eleventh corps were now taking position in the plain north of\nthe town, intending to make contact with Doubleday\u2019s troops on Oak\nRidge.\nDoles\u2019 Confederate brigade charged across the plain and was able to\nforce Howard\u2019s troops back temporarily, but it was the opportune\napproach of Early\u2019s division from the northeast on the Harrisburg Road\nwhich rendered the Union position north of Gettysburg indefensible.\nArriving in the early afternoon as the Union men were establishing their\nposition, Early struck with tremendous force, first with his artillery\nand then with his infantry, against General Barlow. Soon he had\nshattered the entire Union force. The remnants broke and turned\nsouthward through Gettysburg in the direction of Cemetery Hill. In this\nheadlong and disorganized flight General Schimmelfenning was lost from\nhis command, and, finding refuge in a shed, he lay 2 days concealed\nwithin the Confederate lines. In the path of Early\u2019s onslaught lay the\nyouthful Brigadier Barlow severely wounded, and the gallant Lieut.\nBayard Wilkeson, whose battery had long stood against overwhelming odds,\nmortally wounded.\n    [Illustration: _Lt. Gen. Richard S. Ewell._ Courtesy National\n    Archives.]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. Winfield S. Hancock._ Courtesy National\n    Archives.]\nThe Union men on Oak Ridge, faced with the danger that Doles would cut\noff their line of retreat, gave way and retired through Gettysburg to\nCemetery Hill. The withdrawal of the Union troops from the north and\nnorthwest left the Union position on McPherson Ridge untenable. Early in\nthe afternoon, when Rodes opened fire from Oak Hill, Heth had renewed\nhis thrust along the Chambersburg Pike. His troops were soon relieved\nand Pender\u2019s division, striking north and south of the road, broke the\nUnion line. The Union troops first withdrew to Seminary Ridge, then\nacross the fields to Cemetery Hill. Here was advantageous ground which\nhad been selected as a rallying point if the men were forced to\nrelinquish the ground west and north of the town. Thus, by 5 o\u2019clock,\nthe remnants of the Union forces (some 6,000 out of the 18,000 engaged\nin the first day\u2019s struggle) were on the hills south of Gettysburg.\nEwell was now in possession of the town, and he extended his line from\nthe streets eastward to Rock Creek. Studiously observing the hills in\nhis front, he came within range of a Union sharpshooter, for suddenly he\nheard the thud of a minie ball. Calmly riding on, he remarked to General\nGordon at his side, \u201cYou see how much better fixed for a fight I am than\nyou are. It don\u2019t hurt at all to be shot in a wooden leg.\u201d\nA momentous decision now had to be made. Lee had reached the field at 3\np. m., and had witnessed the retreat of the disorganized Union troops\nthrough the streets of Gettysburg. Through his glasses he had watched\ntheir attempt to reestablish their lines on Cemetery Hill. Sensing his\nadvantage and a great opportunity, he sent orders to Ewell by a staff\nofficer to \u201cpress those people\u201d and secure the hill (Cemetery Hill) if\npossible. However, two of Ewell\u2019s divisions, those of Rodes and Early,\nhad been heavily engaged throughout the afternoon and were not well in\nhand. Johnson\u2019s division could not reach the field until late in the\nevening, and the reconnaissance service of Stuart\u2019s cavalry was not yet\navailable. General Ewell, uninformed of the Union strength in the rear\nof the hills south of Gettysburg, decided to await the arrival of\nJohnson\u2019s division. Cemetery Hill was not attacked, and Johnson, coming\nup late in the evening, stopped at the base of Culp\u2019s Hill. Thus passed\nLee\u2019s opportunity of July 1.\n    [Illustration: _Scene north of Gettysburg from Oak Ridge. The\n    Federal position may be seen near the edge of the open fields in the\n    middle distance._]\nWhen the Union troops retreated from the battleground north and west of\nthe town on the evening of July 1, they hastily occupied defense\npositions on Cemetery Hill, Culp\u2019s Hill, and a part of Cemetery Ridge.\nUpon the arrival of Slocum by the Baltimore Pike and Sickles by way of\nthe Emmitsburg Road, the Union right flank at Culp\u2019s Hill and Spangler\u2019s\nSpring and the important position at Little Round Top on the left were\nconsolidated. Thus was developed a strong defensive battle line in the\nshape of a fish hook, about 3 miles long, with the advantage of high\nground and of interior lines. Opposite, in a semicircle about 6 miles\nlong, extending down Seminary Ridge and into the streets of Gettysburg,\nstood the Confederates who, during the night, had closed in from the\nnorth and west.\nThe greater part of the citizenry of Gettysburg, despite the prospect of\nbattle in their own yards, chose to remain in their homes. Both army\ncommanders respected noncombatant rights to a marked degree. Thus, in\ncontrast with the fields of carnage all about the village, life and\nproperty of the civilian population remained unharmed, while the doors\nof churches, schools, and homes were opened for the care of the wounded.\nGeneral Meade, at Taneytown, had learned early in the afternoon of July\n1 that a battle was developing and that Reynolds had been killed. A\nlarge part of his army was within 5 miles of Gettysburg. Meade then sent\nGeneral Hancock to study and report on the situation. Hancock reached\nthe field just as the Union troops were falling back to Cemetery Hill.\nHe helped to rally the troops and left at 6 o\u2019clock to report to Meade\nthat in his opinion the battle should be fought at Gettysburg. Meade\nacted on this recommendation and immediately ordered the concentration\nof the Union forces at that place. Meade himself arrived near midnight\non July 1.\n    [Illustration: _Spangler\u2019s Spring, the right of the Federal battle\n    line of July 2 and 3. This view, made in 1870, shows the wartime\n    appearance of the spring._ (Tipton photograph.)]\n    [Illustration: _View of Culp\u2019s Hill, taken about 1890, showing\n    earthworks on the crest of the hill. Gettysburg, one-half mile\n    northwest, may be seen through the vista._ (Tipton photograph.)]\nPRELIMINARY MOVEMENTS AND PLANS.\nThe small college town of Gettysburg, with 2,400 residents at the time\nof the battle, lay in the heart of a fertile country, surrounded by\nbroad acres of crops and pastures. Substantial houses of industrious\nPennsylvania farmers dotted the countryside. South of the town and\nhardly more than a musket shot from the houses on its outer edge,\nCemetery Hill rose somewhat abruptly from the lower ground. Extending\nsouthward from the hill for nearly 2 miles was a long roll of land\ncalled Cemetery Ridge. At its southern extremity a sharp incline\nterminated in the wooded crest of Little Round Top and a half mile\nbeyond was the sugar-loaf peak of Big Round Top, the highest point in\nthe vicinity of Gettysburg. Paralleling Cemetery Ridge, at an average\ndistance of two-thirds of a mile to the west, lay Seminary Ridge, which\nderived its name from the Lutheran Seminary that stood upon its crest a\nhalf mile west of Gettysburg. In 1863, 10 roads radiated from\nGettysburg, the one leading to Emmitsburg extending diagonally across\nthe valley between Seminary and Cemetery Ridges.\n    [Illustration: _Lunettes, or artillery defense works, on the crest\n    of East Cemetery Hill. The entrance gateway to the public cemetery,\n    which is still in use, appears in the background on the Baltimore\n    Pike._ (Brady photograph.)]\n    [Illustration: _Jennie Wade House, located on Baltimore street\n    between the battle lines. Jennie Wade, the only civilian killed\n    during the battle, was accidentally struck by a bullet which passed\n    through a door of the house._]\n    [Illustration: _East Cemetery Hill, the objective of the Confederate\n    charge on the evening of July 2._]\nBy noon of July 2, the powerful forces of Meade and Lee were at hand,\nand battle on a tremendous scale was imminent. That part of the Union\nline extending from Cemetery Hill to Little Round Top was strongly held.\nLate in the forenoon, Sickles, commanding the Third Corps which lay\nnorth of Little Round Top, sent Berdan\u2019s sharpshooters and some of the\nmen of the 3rd Maine Regiment forward from the Emmitsburg Road to\nPitzer\u2019s Woods, a half mile to the west. As they reached the woods, a\nstrong Confederate force fired upon them, and they hurriedly retired to\ninform their commander. To Sickles, the extension of the Confederate\nline southward meant that his left flank was endangered. He at once\nbegan moving forward to the advantageous high ground at the Peach\nOrchard, and by 3:30 p. m. his battle front extended from Devil\u2019s Den\nnorthwestward to the Orchard and northward on the Emmitsburg Road. In\nthis forward movement, the strong position on the crest of Little Round\nTop was left unoccupied. This was the situation when Meade finally\nturned his attention from his right flank at Culp\u2019s Hill and Spangler\u2019s\nSpring\u2014the cause of his great concern throughout the forenoon\u2014to review\nSickles\u2019 line.\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. Gouverneur K. Warren._ Courtesy National\n    Archives.]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. Daniel E. Sickles._ Courtesy National\n    Archives.]\nLee planned to attack, despite the advice of Longstreet who continually\nurged defensive battle. On July 2, Longstreet recommended that Lee swing\naround the Union left at Little Round Top, select a good position, and\nawait attack. Lee observed that while the Union position was strong if\nheld in sufficient numbers to utilize the advantage of interior lines,\nit presented grave difficulties to a weak defending force. A secure\nlodgment on the shank of the hook might render it possible to sever the\nUnion Army and to deal with each unit separately. Not all of Meade\u2019s\nforce had reached the field, and Lee thought he had the opportunity of\ndestroying his adversary in the process of concentration. He resolved to\nsend Longstreet against the Federal left flank which he believed was\nthen on lower Cemetery Ridge, while Ewell was to storm Cemetery Hill and\nCulp\u2019s Hill.\n    [Illustration: _Trostle farmhouse. Here the 9th Massachusetts\n    battery, taking position in the yard, lost 80 out of 88 horses\n    during the battle of July 2._ (Brady photograph.)]\nLONGSTREET ATTACKS ON THE RIGHT.\nIn the execution of this plan, Longstreet was ordered to take position\nacross the Emmitsburg Road and to attack what was thought to be the left\nflank of the Union line on Cemetery Ridge. From his encampment on the\nChambersburg Road, 3 miles west of Gettysburg, he started toward his\nobjective, using Herr Ridge to conceal the movement from Union signalmen\non Little Round Top. After marching to Black Horse Tavern on the\nFairfield Road, he realized that his troops were in sight of the signal\nunit and at once began retracing his course. Employing the trees on\nSeminary Ridge as a screen, he marched southward again in Willoughby Run\nValley, arriving in position on the Emmitsburg Road about 3:30 p. m.\nImmediately in front, and only 700 yards away, Longstreet saw Sickles\u2019\nbatteries lined up in the Peach Orchard and on the Emmitsburg Road. Col.\nE. P. Alexander, commanding a battalion of Longstreet\u2019s artillery,\nopened with full force against the Union guns. Longstreet could observe\nin the distance that Little Round Top was unoccupied. Law\u2019s Alabama\ntroops were directed at once to take the hill, and Robertson\u2019s Texans\nwere instructed to join in the charge.\nWARREN SAVES LITTLE ROUND TOP.\nGen. G. K. Warren, Meade\u2019s Chief of Engineers, having assisted Sickles\nin placing his line, now rode to the crest of Little Round Top and found\nthe hill, \u201cthe key to the Union position,\u201d unoccupied except by a signal\nstation. Warren was informed by the signalmen that they believed\nConfederate troops lay concealed on the wooded ridge a mile to the west.\nSmith\u2019s New York battery, emplaced at Devil\u2019s Den, immediately was\nordered to fire a shot into these woods. The missile, crashing through\nthe trees, caused a sudden stir of the Confederates \u201cwhich by the gleam\nof the reflected sunlight on their bayonets, revealed their long lines\noutflanking the position.\u201d Warren realized Longstreet would strike first\nat Little Round Top and he observed, too, the difficulty of shifting\nSickles\u2019 position from Devil\u2019s Den to the hill.\n    [Illustration: _The Wheatfield as it appeared in 1890. Little Round\n    Top is in the background._ (Tipton photograph.)]\nAt this moment Warren noticed the approach of Union troops from the\nnorth and rode to meet them. They were Vincent\u2019s and Weed\u2019s brigades,\nleading Sykes\u2019 corps from reserve position to the front. Intercepting\nthese troops, Warren rushed them to Little Round Top. Law\u2019s Alabama\ntroops were starting to scale the south slope of the hill when Vincent\u2019s\nmen rushed to the attack. Weed\u2019s brigade, following closely, drove over\nthe crest and engaged Robertson\u2019s Texans on the west slope. The arrival\nof Hazlett\u2019s battery on the summit of the hill is thus described by an\neyewitness: \u201cThe passage of the six guns through the roadless woods and\namongst the rocks was marvelous. Under ordinary circumstances it would\nhave been considered an impossible feat, but the eagerness of the men\n... brought them without delay to the very summit, where they went\nimmediately into battle.\u201d A desperate hand-to-hand struggle ensued. Weed\nand Hazlett were killed, and Vincent was mortally wounded\u2014all young\nsoldiers of great promise.\nThe struggle at Little Round Top now became stalemated, and Longstreet\ndirected his entire line to attack. The Confederate drive was taken up\nin turn by the brigades of Benning, Anderson, Kershaw, Semmes,\nBarksdale, Wofford, Wilcox, Perry, and Wright against the divisions of\nBirney and Humphreys in the Wheatfield, the Peach Orchard, and along the\nEmmitsburg Road. Four hours of desperate fighting broke the Peach\nOrchard salient, an angle in the Union line which was struck from the\nsouth and the west. It left the Wheatfield strewn with dead and wounded,\nand the base of Little Round Top a shambles. Sickles\u2019 men had been\ndriven back, and Longstreet was now in possession of the west slope of\nBig Round Top, of Devil\u2019s Den, and the Peach Orchard. Little Round Top,\nthat commanding landmark from which Longstreet had hoped to shell the\nUnion lines on Cemetery Ridge and Cemetery Hill, still remained in Union\npossession.\nCULP\u2019S HILL.\nIn the Confederate plan, Ewell on the left was directed to attack\nCemetery Hill and Culp\u2019s Hill in conjunction with Longstreet\u2019s drive. At\nthe appointed time, the guns of Latimer\u2019s battalion on Benner\u2019s Hill,\neast of Gettysburg, opened a well-directed fire against the Union\npositions on East Cemetery Hill and Culp\u2019s Hill, but the return fire\nsoon shattered many of Latimer\u2019s batteries and forced the remnants to\nretire out of range. In the final moments of this action the youthful\nMajor Latimer was mortally wounded.\n    [Illustration: _View of Little Round Top taken soon after the\n    battle. The crest and western slope of the hill had been cleared the\n    year preceding the battle._ (Brady photograph.)]\n    [Illustration: _Breastworks constructed by Federal troops on Little\n    Round Top._]\nAbout dusk, long after the artillery fire had ceased, Early\u2019s infantry\nstarted a charge toward East Cemetery Hill. Seldom, if ever, surpassed\nin its dash and desperation, Early\u2019s assault reached the crest of the\nhill where the defenders, as a last resort in the hand-to-hand\nencounter, used clubbed muskets, stones, and rammers. Long after dark,\nthe Louisiana Tigers and their comrades, in possession of the crest of\nthe hill, fought to hold their gain and their captured guns. The failure\nof Rodes to move out of the streets of Gettysburg and to attack the hill\nfrom the west enabled Hancock to shift some of his men to aid in\nrepelling Early\u2019s attacks. Faced by these Union reserves, Early\u2019s men\nfinally gave way about 10 o\u2019clock and sullenly retired to their lines.\nThe Union troops stood firm.\nClosely timed with Early\u2019s assault of East Cemetery Hill, Johnson\u2019s\ndivision charged the Union works on Culp\u2019s Hill. Failing to make\nheadway, because of the steep incline and the strength of the Union\npositions, Johnson fell back across Rock Creek and started an attack on\nthe southern slope of the hill. Here the Union works were thinly manned.\nAn hour earlier, the divisions of Geary and Ruger had been called from\nthose works to the aid of the Sickles line at the Peach Orchard.\nJohnson, finding the works weakly defended, took possession of them but\ndid not press the attack farther. Only a few hundred yards away on the\nBaltimore Pike lay the Union supply trains. The failure of Confederate\nreconnaissance here again was critically important. Thus passed another\nopportunity to strike a hard blow at the Union Army.\nCANNONADE AT DAWN: CULP\u2019S HILL AND SPANGLER\u2019S SPRING.\nNight brought an end to the bloody combat at East Cemetery Hill, but\nthis was not the time for rest. What would Meade do? Would the Union\nArmy remain in its established position and hold its lines at all costs?\nAt midnight Meade sought the advice of his Council of War in the east\nroom of his headquarters. The corps commanders\u2014Gibbon, Williams, Sykes,\nNewton, Howard, Hancock, Sedgwick, and Slocum\u2014without exception advised\nholding the positions established. Meade, approving, turned to the\nofficer whose division held the Union center, and said, \u201cGibbon, if Lee\nattacks me tomorrow it will be on your front.\u201d\nMeade on the following morning began to fortify Cemetery Ridge by\nshifting all units that could be spared from the line at Culp\u2019s Hill,\nand those in reserve at the Round Tops and on Cemetery Hill. General\nHunt, Chief of Artillery, brought up reserve batteries to hold in\nreadiness for replacement of front line guns. Throughout the forenoon of\nthe third day, Meade not only developed a strong front at the stone\nwalls on the crest of the ridge, but he also strengthened his reserve\npower to an extent which rendered the Union center almost impregnable.\n    [Illustration: _Interior of breastworks on Little Round Top._ (Brady\n    photograph.)]\nMeanwhile, important movements were occurring elsewhere on the field.\nRuger\u2019s division and Lockwood\u2019s brigade, which had been called from\ntheir lines on the south slope of Culp\u2019s Hill the previous evening to\nhelp defend Sickles\u2019 position at the Peach Orchard, were now\ncountermarching, under cover of darkness, to reoccupy their ground.\nGeary, who had misunderstood orders and had marched down the Baltimore\nPike, was also returning to his works. Ruger\u2019s men, upon reaching the\nPike, learned from scouts that their entrenchments south of Culp\u2019s Hill\nand at Spangler\u2019s Spring had been occupied by the Confederates. Ruger,\nresolving upon an attack at daybreak, organized his forces along the\nPike. Powerful artillery units under Muhlenberg were brought into place\nalong the road; Rigby\u2019s Maryland battery was stationed on Power\u2019s Hill,\na prominent knoll a half mile to the south; and another battery was\nemplaced on McAllister Hill.\n    [Illustration: _Lt. Gen. James Longstreet._ Courtesy National\n    Archives.]\n    [Illustration: _Col. Edward Porter Alexander._ Courtesy National\n    Archives.]\nAs dawn broke on July 3, Union guns on the Baltimore Pike opened with a\nheavy cannonade on Johnson\u2019s Confederates at Spangler\u2019s Spring. The\nheavily wooded area about the Confederate lines prevented them from\nbringing guns into position to return the fire. Union skirmishers began\nstreaming across the field toward the Confederate entrenchments. The\nfull force of Ruger\u2019s and Geary\u2019s brigades followed closely. Throughout\nthe forenoon the Union troops struck again and again.\nIt was about 10 o\u2019clock that Ruger, believing that a flank attack might\nbreak the resistance of Johnson\u2019s men, ordered Col. Silas Colgrove to\nstrike the Confederate left flank near the spring. The troops of the 2d\nMassachusetts and the 19th Indiana regiments started across the swale\nfrom the cover of the woods on the little hill south of the spring. A\nwithering fire slowed their pace, but they charged on, only to have\ntheir ranks decimated by the Confederates in strong positions back of a\nstone wall. Colonel Mudge, inspiring leader of the Massachusetts\nregiment, fell mortally wounded. Forced to fall back, the men soon\nlearned their efforts had not been in vain. On Ruger\u2019s and Geary\u2019s front\nthe Confederates were now giving way and soon had retired across Rock\nCreek, out of striking range. By 11 o\u2019clock, the Union troops were again\nin possession of their earthworks; again they could quench their thirst\nin the cooling waters of the spring.\nLEE PLANS A FINAL THRUST.\nGeneral Lee must have learned by mid-forenoon, after the long hours of\nstruggle at Culp\u2019s Hill and Spangler\u2019s Spring, that his troops could not\nhold the Union works which they had occupied with so little effort the\nprevious evening. He had seen, also, that in the tremendous battling\nduring the preceding afternoon no important gains had been made at\nLittle Round Top and its vicinity. Longstreet had gained the\nadvantageous ridge at the Peach Orchard and had brought his batteries\nforward from Pitzer\u2019s Woods to this high ground in preparation for a\nfollow-up attack. Wright\u2019s brigade, the last unit to move forward on\nJuly 2 in the echelon attack begun by General Law, had charged across\nthe open fields at dusk and pierced the Union center just south of the\ncopse of trees on Cemetery Ridge. Wright\u2019s success could not be pressed\nto decisive advantage as the brigades on his left had not moved forward\nto his support, and he was forced to retire. Again, lack of coordination\nin attack was to count heavily against the Confederates.\nThe failure to make any pronounced headway on July 2 at Culp\u2019s Hill and\nLittle Round Top, and the momentary success of Wright on Cemetery Ridge,\ndoubtless led Lee to believe that Meade\u2019s flanks were strong and his\ncenter weak. A powerful drive at the center might pierce the enemy\u2019s\nlines and fold them back. The shattered units might then be destroyed or\ncaptured at will. Such a charge across open fields and in the face of\nfrontal and flank fire would, Lee well understood, be a gamble seldom\nundertaken. Longstreet strongly voiced his objection to such a move,\ninsisting that \u201cno 15,000 men ever arrayed for battle can take that\nposition.\u201d\n    [Illustration: _View of the Peach Orchard and the Emmitsburg Road in\n    1890. The Wentz farm buildings appear at the left._ (Tipton\n    photograph.)]\n    [Illustration: _Devil\u2019s Den, a formation of large granite boulders,\n    used as defense positions by Confederate sharpshooters._]\nTime now was the important element. Whatever could be done must be done\nquickly. Hood\u2019s and McLaws\u2019 divisions, who had fought bravely and lost\nheavily at Round Top and the Wheatfield, were not in condition for\nanother severe test. Early and Johnson on the left had likewise endured\nlong, unrelenting battle with powerful Union forces in positions of\nadvantage. The men of Heth\u2019s and Pender\u2019s divisions had not been heavily\nengaged since the first day\u2019s encounter west of Gettysburg. These were\nthe men, along with Pickett\u2019s division, whom Lee would have to count on\nto bear the brunt of his final great effort at Gettysburg.\nLEE AND MEADE SET THE STAGE.\nLate in the forenoon of July 3, General Meade had completed his plan of\ndefense in rear of the Union center by the concentration of all\navailable infantry units. General Hunt, sensing the danger, placed a\nsolid line of batteries in position on the crest of the ridge and\nbrought others to the rear for emergency use. As a final act of\npreparation, Meade inspected his front at the stone wall, then rode\nsouthward to Little Round Top. Here, with General Warren, he could see\nthe long lines of Confederate batteries and the massing of troops, a\nsure indication of attack. Meade rode back to his headquarters.\nLee, on his part, had observed in the forenoon the enemy in the process\nof concentration on Cemetery Ridge. Having reached his decision to\nstrike the Union center, he had already begun the movement of batteries\nfrom the rear to points of advantage. By noon, 138 guns were in line\nfrom the Peach Orchard northward to the Seminary buildings, many of them\nonly 800 yards from the Union center. To Colonel Alexander fell the lot\nof directing the artillery fire and informing the infantry of the best\nopportunity to advance.\nMassed to the west of Emmitsburg Road, on low ground which screened\ntheir position from the Union lines, lay Gen. George Pickett\u2019s three\nbrigades commanded by Kemper, Armistead, and Garnett. Pickett\u2019s men had\narrived the previous evening from Chambersburg, where they had guarded\nLee\u2019s wagons on July 1 and 2. As the only fresh body of troops on the\nfield, they were now to spearhead the charge. On Pickett\u2019s left, the\nattacking front was fast being organized. Joseph Pettigrew, a brigadier,\nwas preparing to lead the division of the wounded Major General Heth and\nMaj. Gen. Isaac Trimble took the command of Pender. More than 10,000\ntroops of these two divisions\u2014including such units as the 26th North\nCarolina whose losses on the first day were so heavy that the dead\nmarked their advance \u201cwith the accuracy of a line at a dress parade\u201d\u2014now\nawaited the order to attack. Many hours earlier, the Bliss farm\nbuildings, which lay in their front, had been burned. Their objective on\nthe ridge was in clear view. The brigades of Wilcox and Lang were to\nmove forward on the right of Pickett in order to protect his flank as he\nneared the enemy position.\n    [Illustration: _The Round Tops as they appear from Longstreet\u2019s\n    battle line one mile away._]\nGeneral Stuart, in the meantime, had been out of touch with Lee. Moving\nnorthward on the right flank of the Union Army, he became involved in a\nsharp engagement at Hanover, Pa., on June 30. Seeking to regain contact\nwith Lee, he arrived at Carlisle on the evening of July 1. As he began\nshelling the barracks, orders arrived from Lee and he at once marched\nfor Gettysburg, arriving north of the town the next day. Lee now decided\nto employ his cavalry to cut off Union retreat which might result from a\nsuccessful attack on the center. Stuart was instructed to swing eastward\nand then south around Gettysburg the morning of July 3 in order to\narrive in the rear of the Union lines at the time Pickett was expected\nto charge the center.\n    [Illustration: BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG]\n    [Illustration: _View northward from Little Round Top. 1. Cemetery\n    Ridge. 2. Cemetery Hill. 3. Field of Pickett\u2019s Charge. 4. Seminary\n    Ridge. 5. Oak Hill. The statue of G. K. Warren appears in the\n    foreground._]\n    [Illustration: _Meade\u2019s headquarters as it appears today._]\nExcept for the intermittent sniping of sharpshooters, an ominous silence\nprevailed over the fields. The orders had now been given; the objective\nhad been pointed out. Men talked of casual things. Some munched on hard\nbread, others looked fearfully to the eastward, where, with the same\nmixed feelings, lay their adversary.\nFar to the south, on another crucial front, General Pemberton was\npenning a letter to General Grant asking terms for the surrender of\nVicksburg. In Richmond, the sick and anxious Jefferson Davis looked\nhopefully for heartening word from his great field commander at\nGettysburg. The outcome of this bold venture would count heavily in the\nbalance for the cause of the Confederacy.\nARTILLERY DUEL AT ONE O\u2019CLOCK.\nAt 1 o\u2019clock two guns of Miller\u2019s Battery, posted near the Peach\nOrchard, opened fire in rapid succession. It was the signal for the\nentire line to let loose their terrific blast. Gunners rushed to their\ncannon, and in a few moments the massed batteries shook the countryside.\nFiring in salvos and in succession, the air was soon filled with smoke\nand heavy dust, which darkened the sky. Union gunners on Cemetery Ridge\nwaited a few minutes until the positions of the Confederate batteries\nwere located; then 80 guns, placed it close order, opened fire. For\nnearly 2 hours the duel continued, then that Union fire slackened. Hunt\nhad ordered a partial cessation in order to cool the guns and to replace\nbroken carriages.\n    [Illustration: _Panorama of the battlefield from Cemetery Ridge. 1.\n    General Meade statue. 2. Cemetery Ridge_ (Union position). _3.\n    Little Round Top. 4. Big Round Top. 5. Devil\u2019s Den. 6. High Water\n    Mark\u2014farthest advance of Pickett\u2019s Charge. 7. The Wheatfield. 8. The\n    Angle. 9. The Peach Orchard. 10. Codori Buildings. 11. Field of\n    Pickett\u2019s Charge. 12. Emmitsburg Road. 13. Seminary Ridge_\n    (Confederate position). _14. Virginia Memorial._]\nColonel Alexander, in position on the Emmitsburg Road near the Peach\nOrchard, could observe the effectiveness of his fire on the Union lines\nand also keep the Confederate troops in view. To him, it appeared that\nUnion artillery fire was weakening. His own supply of ammunition was\nrunning low. Believing this was the time to attack, Alexander sent a\nmessage to Pickett who in turn rode over to Longstreet. General\nLongstreet, who had persistently opposed Lee\u2019s plan of sending 15,000\nmen across the open ground, was now faced with a final decision.\nLongstreet merely nodded approval and Pickett saluted, saying, \u201cI am\ngoing to move forward, sir.\u201d He rode back to his men and ordered the\nadvance. With Kemper on the right, Garnett on the left, and Armistead a\nfew yards to the rear, the division marched out in brigade front, first\nnortheastward into the open fields, then eastward toward the Union\nlines. As Pickett\u2019s men came into view near the woods, Pettigrew and\nTrimble gave the order to advance. The troops of the Carolinas,\nTennessee, and Mississippi, comprising the brigades of Mayo, Davis,\nMarshall, and Fry in front, followed closely by Lane and Lowrance, now\nmoved out to attack. A gap of half a mile between Pickett\u2019s left and\nPettigrew\u2019s right would be closed as the advance progressed. The units\nwere to converge as they approached the Union lines so that the final\nstage of the charge would present a solid front.\nCLIMAX AT GETTYSBURG.\nBillows of smoke lay ahead of the Union men at the stone wall,\nmomentarily obscuring the enemy. But trained observers on Little Round\nTop, far to the south, could see in the rear of this curtain of smoke\nthe waves of Confederates starting forward. Pickett, finding his\nbrigades drifting southeastward, ordered them to bear to the left, and\nthe men turned toward the copse of trees. Kemper was now approaching on\nthe south of the Codori buildings; Garnett and Armistead were on the\nnorth. Halted momentarily at the Emmitsburg Road to remove fence rails,\nPickett\u2019s troops, with Pettigrew on the left, renewed the advance.\nPickett had anticipated frontal fire of artillery and infantry from the\nstrong Union positions at the stone walls on the ridge, but now an\nunforeseen attack developed. Union guns as far south as Little Round\nTop, along with batteries on Cemetery Hill, relieved from Confederate\nfire at the Seminary buildings, opened on the right and left flanks. As\nPickett\u2019s men drove toward the Union works at The Angle, Stannard\u2019s\nVermont troops, executing a right turn movement from their position\nsouth of the copse, fired into the flank of the charging Confederates.\nThe advancing lines crumbled, re-formed, and again pressed ahead under\nterrific fire from the Union batteries.\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. J. E. B. Stuart._ Courtesy National\n    Archives.]\n    [Illustration: _Maj. Gen. George E. Pickett._ Courtesy National\n    Archives.]\nA hundred yards from the stone wall, in the tall grass, they encountered\nUnion skirmishers who fired and hastily withdrew. But all along the wall\nthe Union infantry opened with volley after volley into the depleted\nranks of Garnett and Fry. Armistead closed in, and with Lane and\nLowrance joining him, made a last concerted drive. At this close range,\ndouble canister and concentrated infantry fire cut wide gaps in the\nattacking front. Garnett was mortally wounded; Kemper was down, his\nlines falling away on the right and left. Armistead reached the low\nstone fence. In a final surge, he crossed the wall with 150 men and,\nwith his cap on his sword, shouted \u201cFollow me!\u201d At the peak of the\ncharge, he fell mortally wounded. From the ridge, Union troops rushed\nforward and Hall\u2019s Michigan regiments let loose a blast of musketry. The\ngray column was surrounded. The tide of the Confederacy had \u201cswept to\nits crest, paused, and receded.\u201d\nTwo of the divisions in the charge were reduced to mere fragments. In\nfront of the Union line, 20 fallen battle flags lay in a space of 100\nyards square. Singly and in little clumps, the remnants of the gray\ncolumns that had made the magnificent charge of a few minutes earlier\nnow sullenly retreated across the fields toward the Confederate lines.\nLee, who had watched anxiously from Spangler\u2019s Woods, now rode out to\nmeet his men. \u201cAll this has been my fault,\u201d he said to General Wilcox\nwho had brought off his command after heavy losses. \u201cIt is I that have\nlost this fight, and you must help me out of it in the best way you\ncan.\u201d And again that night, in a moment of contemplation, he remarked to\na comrade, \u201cToo bad! too bad! Oh! too bad!\u201d\n    [Illustration: _The Angle, showing the stone wall and the fields\u2019\n    over which Pickett\u2019s troops charged. The Virginia Memorial appears\n    in the background on Seminary Ridge._]\n    [Illustration: _The High Water Mark Monument, which marks the\n    farthest advance made by the Confederates against the Federal\n    position in Pickett\u2019s Charge._]\nCAVALRY ACTION.\nAs the strength of Lee\u2019s mighty effort at The Angle was ebbing and the\nscattered remnants of the charge were seeking shelter, action of a\ndifferent kind was taking place on another field not far distant. Early\nin the afternoon, Stuart\u2019s cavalry was making its way down the valley of\nCress Run, 3 miles east of Gettysburg. The brigades of Hampton and\nFitzhugh Lee, at the rear of the line of march, momentarily lost the\ntrail and came out into open ground at the north end of Rummel\u2019s Woods.\nStuart, soon learning of the mistake, attempted to bring them into line\nand to proceed southward. But at this point, Gen. D. M. Gregg\u2019s Union\ncavalry, in position along the Hanover Road a mile southeast, saw the\nConfederates. Gregg prepared at once to attack, and Stuart had no choice\nbut to fight on this ground. As the two forces moved closer, dismounted\nmen opened a brisk fire, supported by the accurate shelling of\nartillerists.\n    [Illustration: _Section of the Cyclorama painting of Pickett\u2019s\n    Charge by Paul Philippoteaux._ Courtesy Times and News Publishing\n    Company.]\n    [Illustration: _The General Hospital one mile east of Gettysburg. A\n    few weeks after the battle the Union and Confederate wounded were\n    removed to this place from field hospitals in the rear of the battle\n    lines._ (Brady photograph.)]\nThen came the initial cavalry charge and countercharge. The Confederate\nJenkins was forced to withdraw when his small supply of ammunition\nbecame exhausted. Hampton, Fitzhugh Lee, and Chambliss charged again and\nagain, only to be met with the equally spirited counterattack of\nMcIntosh. Custer\u2019s Michigan regiments closed in on a flank movement\nagainst the right of the charging Confederate troopers, and Miller\u2019s\nsquadron of the 3d Pennsylvania, disobeying orders to hold its position,\nstruck opportunely on the Confederate left. The thrusts of the Union\nhorsemen, so well coordinated, stopped the onslaught of Stuart\u2019s\ntroopers. After 3 hours of driving assaults, the Confederates left the\nfield and retired to the north of Gettysburg. The Union horsemen,\nholding their ground, had successfully cut off the prospect of\nConfederate cavalry aid in the rear of the Union lines on Cemetery\nRidge.\nLee, as he looked over the desolate field of dead and wounded and the\nbroken remnants of his once-powerful army still ready for renewed\nbattle, must have realized that not only was Gettysburg lost, but that\neventually it might all end this way. Meade did not counterattack, as\nexpected. The following day, July 4, the two armies lay facing each\nother, exhausted and torn.\n    [Illustration: _During the 75th anniversary of the Battle of\n    Gettysburg, July 1-4, 1938, 1,845 soldiers attended the Federal and\n    Confederate reunion. Here veterans of the two armies clasp hands\n    across the stone wall at The Angle._]\nLate on the afternoon of July 4, Lee began an orderly retreat. The wagon\ntrain of wounded, 17 miles in length, guarded by Imboden\u2019s cavalry,\nstarted homeward through Greenwood and Greencastle. At night, the\nable-bodied men marched over the Hagerstown Road by way of Monterey Pass\nto the Potomac. Roads had become nearly impassable from the heavy rains\nthat day. So well did Stuart cover the retreat that the army reached the\nPotomac with comparatively little loss. Meade, realizing that the\nConfederate Army was actually retreating and not retiring to the\nmountain passes, sent his cavalry and Sedgwick\u2019s corps of infantry in\npursuit and ordered the mountain passes west of Frederick covered. Lee,\nhaving the advantage of the more direct route to the Potomac, reached\nthe river several days ahead of his pursuers, but heavy rains had\nswollen the current and he could not cross. Meade arrived on the night\nof July 12 and prepared for a general attack. On the following night,\nhowever, the river receded and Lee crossed safely into Virginia. The\nConfederate Army, Meade\u2019s critics said, had been permitted to slip from\nthe Union grasp.\n    [Illustration: _The Eternal Light Peace Memorial, dedicated on the\n    75th anniversary of the battle, commemorates \u201cPeace Eternal in a\n    Nation United.\u201d_]\n                        _Lincoln and Gettysburg_\nESTABLISHMENT OF A BURIAL GROUND.\nFor the residents of Gettysburg the aftermath of battle was almost as\ntrying as the 3 days of struggle that had swirled about them. The town\u2019s\n2,400 inhabitants, and the nearby country folk, bore a heavy share of\nthe burden of caring for the 21,000 wounded and dying of both sides, who\nwere left behind when the armies moved on. Spacious rooms in churches\nand schools and hundreds of homes were turned over to the care of the\nwounded; and kindly folk from neighboring towns came to help those of\nGettysburg in ministering to the needs of the maimed and shattered men.\nAdequate attention to the wounded was an immediate necessity, but fully\nas urgent was the need of caring for the dead. Nearly 6,000 had been\nkilled in action, and hundreds died each day from mortal wounds. In the\nearlier stages of the battle, soldiers of both armies performed the\ntasks of burying their fallen comrades, but the struggle had reached\nsuch large proportions and the scene of battle had so shifted that\nfallen men had come within enemy lines. Because of the emergencies of\nbattle, therefore, hundreds of bodies had been left unburied or only\npartially covered. It was evident that the limited aid which could be\noffered by local authorities must be supported by a well-organized plan\nfor disinterment of the dead from the temporary burial grounds on the\nfield and reburial in a permanent place at Gettysburg or in home\ncemeteries.\nA few days after the battle, the Governor of the Commonwealth, Hon.\nAndrew Curtin, visited the battlefield to offer assistance in caring for\nthe wounded. When official duties required his return to Harrisburg, he\nappointed Attorney David Wills, of Gettysburg, to act as his special\nagent. At the time of his visit, the Governor was especially distressed\nby the condition of the dead. In response to the Governor\u2019s desire that\nthe remains be brought together in a place set aside for the purpose,\nMr. Wills selected land on the northern slope of Cemetery Hill and\nsuggested that the State of Pennsylvania purchase the ground at once in\norder that interments could begin without delay. He proposed that\ncontributions for the purpose of laying out and landscaping the grounds\nbe asked from legislatures of the States whose soldiers had taken part\nin the battle.\nWithin 6 weeks, Mr. Wills had purchased 17 acres of ground on Cemetery\nHill and engaged William Saunders, an eminent landscape gardener, to lay\nout the grounds in State lots, apportioned in size to the number of\ngraves for the fallen of each State. Each of the Union States\nrepresented in the battle made contributions for planning and\nlandscaping.\nThe reinterment of 3,512 bodies in the cemetery was accomplished only\nafter many months. Great care had been taken to identify the bodies on\nthe field, and, at the time of reinterment, remains were readily\nidentified by marked boards which had been placed at the field grave or\nby items found on the bodies. Even so, the names of 1,664 remained\nunknown, 979 of whom were without identification either by name or by\nState. Within a year, appropriations from the States made possible the\nenclosure of the cemetery with a massive stone wall and an iron fence on\nthe Baltimore Street front, imposing gateways of iron, headstones for\nthe graves, and a keeper\u2019s lodge. Since the original burials, the total\nof Civil War interments has reached 3,706. Including those of later\nwars, the total number now is 4,399.\n    [Illustration: _Photograph of Lincoln taken a few days before he\n    left Washington en route to Gettysburg, November 1863._ (Gardner\n    photograph.)]\n    [Illustration: _The Soldiers\u2019 National Monument, commemorating the\n    Federal dead who fell at Gettysburg, was dedicated July 1, 1869. It\n    is located at the place where Lincoln delivered his Gettysburg\n    Address._]\nThe removal of Confederate dead from the field burial plots was not\nundertaken until 7 years after the battle. During the years 1870-73,\nupon the initiative of the Ladies Memorial Associations of Richmond,\nRaleigh, Savannah, and Charleston, 3,320 bodies were disinterred and\nsent to cemeteries in those cities for reburial, 2,935 being interred in\nHollywood Cemetery, Richmond. Seventy-three bodies were reburied in home\ncemeteries.\nThe Commonwealth of Pennsylvania incorporated the cemetery in January\n1864. The cemetery \u201chaving been completed, and the care of it by\nCommissioners from so many states being burdensome and expensive,\u201d the\nBoard of Commissioners, authorized by act of the General Assembly of\nPennsylvania in 1868, recommended the transfer of the cemetery to the\nFederal Government. The Secretary of War accepted title to the cemetery\nfor the United States Government on May 1, 1872.\nDEDICATION OF THE CEMETERY.\nHaving agreed upon a plan for the cemetery, the Commissioners believed\nit advisable to consecrate the grounds with appropriate ceremonies. Mr.\nWills, representing the Governor of Pennsylvania, was selected to make\nproper arrangements for the event. With the approval of the Governors of\nthe several States, he wrote to Hon. Edward Everett, of Massachusetts,\ninviting him to deliver the oration on the occasion and suggested\nOctober 23, 1863, as the date for the ceremony. Mr. Everett stated in\nreply that the invitation was a great compliment, but that because of\nthe time necessary for the preparation of the oration he could not\naccept a date earlier than November 19. This was the date agreed upon.\nEdward Everett was the outstanding orator of his day. He had been a\nprominent Boston minister and later a university professor. A cultured\nscholar, he had delivered orations on many notable occasions. In a\ndistinguished career he became successively President of Harvard,\nGovernor of Massachusetts, United States Senator, Minister to England,\nand Secretary of State.\n    [Illustration: _The Wills house where Lincoln was a guest when the\n    national cemetery was dedicated._]\nThe Gettysburg cemetery, at the time of the dedication, was not under\nthe authority of the Federal Government. It had not occurred to those in\ncharge, therefore, that the President of the United States might desire\nto attend the ceremony. When formally printed invitations were sent to a\nrather extended list of national figures, including the President, the\nacceptance from Mr. Lincoln came as a surprise. Mr. Wills was thereupon\ninstructed to request the President to take part in the program, and, on\nNovember 2, a personal invitation was addressed to him.\n    [Illustration: _The procession on Baltimore Street en route to the\n    cemetery for the dedicatory exercises, November 19._]\nThrongs filled the town on the evening of November 18. The special train\nfrom Washington bearing the President arrived in Gettysburg at dusk. Mr.\nLincoln was escorted to the spacious home of Mr. Wills on Center Square.\nSometime later in the evening the President was serenaded, and at a late\nhour he retired. At 10 o\u2019clock on the following morning, the appointed\ntime for the procession to begin, Mr. Lincoln was ready. The various\nunits of the long procession, marshaled by Ward Lamon, began moving on\nBaltimore Street, the President riding horseback. The elaborate order of\nmarch also included Cabinet officials, judges of the Supreme Court, high\nmilitary officers, Governors, commissioners, the Vice President, the\nSpeaker of the House of Representatives, Members of Congress, and many\nlocal groups.\nDifficulty in getting the procession under way and the tardy return of\nMr. Everett from his drive over the battleground accounted for a delay\nof an hour in the proceedings. At high noon, with thousands scurrying\nabout for points of vantage, the ceremonies were begun with the playing\nof a dirge by one of the bands. As the audience stood uncovered, a\nprayer was offered by Rev. Thomas H. Stockton, Chaplain of the House of\nRepresentatives. \u201cOld Hundred\u201d was played by the Marine Band. Then Mr.\nEverett arose, and \u201cstood a moment in silence, regarding the battlefield\nand the distant beauty of the South Mountain range.\u201d For nearly 2 hours\nhe reviewed the funeral customs of Athens, spoke of the purposes of war,\npresented a detailed account of the 3-days\u2019 battle, offered tribute to\nthose who died on the battlefield, and reminded his audience of the\nbonds which are common to all Americans. Upon the conclusion of his\naddress, a hymn was sung.\n    [Illustration: _First page of the second draft of the Gettysburg\n    Address. This copy, made by Lincoln on the morning of November 19,\n    was held in his hand while delivering his address._ Reproduced from\n    the original in the Library of Congress.]\n    [Illustration: _This photograph is the only known close-up view of\n    the rostrum_ (upper left) _at the dedication of the national\n    cemetery. The view shows a part of the audience which was estimated\n    at 15,000._ (Bachrach photograph.)]\nThen the President arose and spoke his immortal words:\n  _Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this\n  continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the\n  proposition that all men are created equal._\n  _Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation,\n  or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are\n  met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicate a\n  portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here\n  gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting\n  and proper that we should do this._\n  _But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate\u2014we cannot consecrate\u2014we\n  cannot hallow\u2014this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who\n  struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add\n  or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say\n  here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the\n  living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they\n  who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us\n  to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us\u2014that from\n  these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which\n  they gave the last full measure of devotion\u2014that we here highly\n  resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain\u2014that this nation,\n  under God, shall have a new birth of freedom\u2014and that government of\n  the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the\n  earth._\nA hymn was then sung and Rev. H. L. Baugher pronounced the benediction.\n    [Illustration: _Plan of the national cemetery drawn in the autumn of\n    1863 by the notable landscape gardener, William Saunders._]\n                       DESIGN FOR THE IMPROVEMENT\n                    THE SOLDIERS\u2019 NATIONAL CEMETERY,\n                  Landscape Gardener Germantown, Penn.\n  1. UNKNOWN.\n  2. ILLINOIS.\n  3. VIRGINIA.\n  4. DELAWARE.\n  5. RHODE ISLAND.\n  6. NEW HAMPSHIRE.\n  7. VERMONT.\n  8. NEW JERSEY.\n  9. WISCONSIN.\n  10. CONNECTICUT.\n  11. MINNESOTA.\n  12. MARYLAND.\n  13. U. S. REGULARS.\n  14. UNKNOWN.\n  15. MAINE.\n  16. MICHIGAN\n  17. NEW YORK.\n  18. PENNSYLVANIA.\n  19. MASSACHUSETTS.\n  21. INDIANA.\n  22. UNKNOWN.\n  23. MONUMENT.\n  24. GATE-HOUSE.\n  25. FLAGSTAFF, ETC.\n    [Illustration: _The Lincoln Address Memorial, the only monument ever\n    erected to commemorate an address, stands near the west gate of the\n    national cemetery._]\nGENESIS OF THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS.\nThe theme of the Gettysburg Address was not entirely new. \u201cMust a\ngovernment, of necessity, be too strong for the liberties of its\npeople,\u201d Lincoln had once asked, \u201cor too weak to maintain its own\nexistence?\u201d Speaking of war aims, he said, \u201cWe shall nobly save, or\nmeanly lose, the last best hope of earth.\u201d When he referred at\nGettysburg to \u201cthe unfinished work which they who fought here have thus\nfar so nobly advanced,\u201d he had in mind the high purpose of the\npreservation of the Union and the welfare of all the people. More than a\nyear after Gettysburg, Lincoln in his Second Inaugural address uttered\nwords which might very well be considered a companion sentiment to those\nexpressed at Gettysburg: \u201cWith malice toward none; with charity for all;\nwith firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right.\u201d This\nprofession of faith came from the heart of a man of humility who sought\nthen, as he did throughout the war, to assuage suffering and anxiety\neverywhere.\nRather than accept the address as a few brief notes hastily prepared on\nthe route to Gettysburg (an assumption which has long gained much public\nacceptance), it should be regarded as a pronouncement of the high\npurpose dominant in Lincoln\u2019s thinking throughout the war. Habitually\ncautious of words in public address, spoken or written, it is not likely\nthat the President, on such an occasion, failed to give careful thought\nto the words which he would speak. After receiving the belated\ninvitation on November 2, he yet had ample time to prepare for the\noccasion, and the well-known correspondent Noah Brooks stated that\nseveral days before the dedication Lincoln told him in Washington that\nhis address would be \u201cshort, short, short\u201d and that it was \u201cwritten, but\nnot finished.\u201d\nTHE FIVE AUTOGRAPH COPIES OF THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS.\nEven after his arrival at Gettysburg the President continued to put\nfinishing touches to his address. The first page of the original text\nwas written in ink on a sheet of Executive Mansion paper. The second\npage, either written or revised at the Wills residence, was in pencil on\na sheet of foolscap, and, according to Lincoln\u2019s secretary, Nicolay, the\nfew words changed in pencil at the bottom of the first page were added\nwhile in Gettysburg. The second draft of the address was written in\nGettysburg probably on the morning of its delivery, as it contains\ncertain phrases that are not in the first draft but are in the reports\nof the address as delivered and in subsequent copies made by Lincoln. It\nis probable, as stated in the explanatory note accompanying the original\ncopies of the first and second drafts in the Library of Congress, that\nit was the second draft which Lincoln held in his hand when he delivered\nthe address.\nQuite opposite to Lincoln\u2019s feeling, expressed soon after the delivery\nof the address, that it \u201cwould not scour,\u201d the President lived long\nenough to think better of it himself and to see it widely accepted as a\nmasterpiece. Early in 1864, Mr. Everett requested him to join in\npresenting manuscripts of the two addresses given at Gettysburg to be\nbound in a volume and sold for the benefit of stricken soldiers at a\nSanitary Commission Fair in New York. The draft Lincoln sent became the\nthird autograph copy, known as the Everett-Keyes copy, and it is now in\nthe possession of the Illinois State Historical Library.\nGeorge Bancroft requested a copy in April 1864, to be included in\n_Autograph Leaves of Our Country\u2019s Authors_. This volume was to be sold\nat a Soldiers\u2019 and Sailors\u2019 Sanitary Fair in Baltimore. As this fourth\ncopy was written on both sides of the paper, it proved unusable for this\npurpose, and Mr. Bancroft was allowed to keep it. This autograph draft\nis known as the Bancroft copy, as it remained in that family for many\nyears. It has recently been presented to the Cornell University Library.\nFinding that the copy written for _Autograph Leaves_ could not be used,\nMr. Lincoln wrote another, a fifth draft, which was accepted for the\npurpose requested. It is the only draft to which he affixed his\nsignature. In all probability it was the last copy written by Lincoln,\nand because of the apparent care in its preparation it has become the\nstandard version of the address. The fifth draft, which long remained in\nthe hands of the family of Col. Alexander Bliss, publisher of _Autograph\nLeaves_, is known as the Bliss copy. It was purchased in 1949 by Oscar\nB. Cintas, of Havana, Cuba.\nSOLDIERS\u2019 NATIONAL MONUMENT.\nAs a fitting memorial to the Union dead who fell at Gettysburg, the\nCommissioners arranged for the erection of a monument in the center of\nthe semicircular plot of graves. A design submitted by J. G. Batterson\nwas accepted and the services of Randolph Rogers, a distinguished\nAmerican sculptor, were secured for the execution of the monument.\nProjecting from the four angles of the gray granite shaft are\nallegorical statues in white marble representing War, History, Peace,\nand Plenty. Surmounting the shaft is a white marble statue representing\nthe Genius of Liberty. Known as the Soldiers\u2019 National Monument, the\ncornerstone was laid July 4, 1865, and the monument dedicated July 1,\nTHE LINCOLN ADDRESS MEMORIAL.\nThe \u201cfew appropriate remarks\u201d of Lincoln at Gettysburg came to be\naccepted with the passing of years not only as a fine expression of the\npurposes for which the war was fought, but as a masterpiece of\nliterature. An effort to have the words of the martyr President\ncommemorated on this battlefield culminated with the inclusion in the\nact approved February 12, 1895, which established Gettysburg National\nMilitary Park, of a provision for the erection of such a memorial.\nPursuant to this authority, the Park Commission erected the Lincoln\nAddress Memorial, in January 1912, near the west gate of the national\ncemetery.\n    [Illustration: _The national cemetery._]\n              _Guide Tour of the Park_\u2014(See map on page 52.)\nThe self-guide tour of the park begins on McPherson Ridge, a mile west\nof Gettysburg. Upon arrival in Gettysburg, the visitor should first\nlocate Center Square, then drive a mile westward on U. S. No. 30 to the\nstatues of Generals Reynolds and Buford.\nSTOP 1. MCPHERSON RIDGE.\n(Please face westward, with the statue of Reynolds on your right.)\nThe Battle of Gettysburg began on this ridge at 8 a. m., July 1, 1863.\nThe Confederate Army, approaching along the Chambersburg Pike, formed\nline of battle on the ridge one-half mile westward where you see the\nbrick house (Herr Tavern). They first attacked the Union cavalry on this\nridge, then infantry on the ridge 200 yards to your rear. In the\nafternoon, the Confederates renewed their drive from the west along the\nPike and also struck the Union right flank (Oak Hill, No. 2 on Tour\nMap). The Union forces finally gave way, retreating first to the\nSeminary buildings and then to Cemetery Hill south of Gettysburg.\nGeneral Reynolds, commanding a Union corps, was killed in the woods a\nquarter of a mile southeast of this point. Buford, whose statue is just\nin front of you, commanded the Union cavalry on this ridge. The marked\ngun at the base of the Buford statue fired the first cannon shot at\nGettysburg. Oak Ridge lies one-half mile back of you, and the same\nwooded ridge extending south of the Chambersburg Pike is Seminary Ridge.\nGeneral Lee, the Confederate commander, used the valley beyond the South\nMountains (to the west) as an avenue of approach into Pennsylvania.\nSTOP 2. OAK HILL.\n(Please face southward with the Peace Memorial to your rear.)\nThe Battle of Gettysburg, which began at 8 a. m., on the two ridges a\nmile south of here, halted at noon, and the Confederates withdrew. At 1\no\u2019clock, a strong Confederate force arrived from the north on this hill\nand fired into the flank of the Union men on the ridges to the south.\nFaced with this powerful fire and with renewed attack from the west,\npart of the Union forces were shifted to Oak Ridge (see monuments on the\nridge to your left) to meet the attack from this direction. Union troops\non the plain east of this ridge were soon forced by another strong\nConfederate charge to retreat headlong through the streets of\nGettysburg, opening the Union line on Oak Ridge to flank and rear\nattack. By mid-afternoon, the Union position on Oak Ridge was abandoned,\nand the Confederates pursued the retreating Union troops through\nGettysburg, halting in the western part of the town.\nThe gap in the South Mountains to your right is Cashtown Pass where\nLee\u2019s army crossed the range.\nSTOP 3. OAK RIDGE.\n(Please face eastward toward the monuments on the plain.)\nWhen Rodes\u2019 Confederate troops reached Oak Hill at 1 o\u2019clock, Union\ntroops on McPherson Ridge, as well as reserves, were shifted hurriedly\nto this ground. The Union troops, posted back of the stone wall, faced\nthe Confederate charge from the west and north. Tenaciously holding this\nground through repeated Confederate attacks, the Union men were finally\nforced to give way. Howard\u2019s Union corps had arrived earlier in the\nplain north of Gettysburg (see monuments to the east) but his command\nwas soon shattered by a Confederate force arriving from the northeast on\nthe Harrisburg Road (near flagpole, a mile eastward). As the Union\ntroops north of Gettysburg retreated, the men on this ridge became\nisolated and withdrew to Cemetery Hill, south of the town.\nThe large white building on this side of Gettysburg is \u201cOld Dorm\u201d at\nGettysburg College, used as a hospital during the battle. Beyond the\ntown is Culp\u2019s Hill (see the observation tower), and in the right\nbackground is Cemetery Hill.\nSTOP 4. SEMINARY RIDGE.\n(North Carolina Monument.)\nGeneral Lee had failed to achieve any definite gains July 2 against the\nUnion left flank at Little Round Top and the Peach Orchard, or the right\nflank at Spangler\u2019s Spring and Culp\u2019s Hill. He therefore marshaled his\nforces on the forenoon of July 3 for a final thrust against the center\nof the Union line on Cemetery Ridge. For nearly 2 hours, 138 Confederate\nguns on this ridge directed a heavy fire at the Union positions. Lee\nthen sent 15,000 men across the open ground with the Copse of Trees (No.\n8 on the Tour Map) as their objective. Spearheaded by Pickett\u2019s\ndivision, and therefore known as Pickett\u2019s Charge, this famous attack\nfailed to break the strong Union positions at the stone wall. The\nadvance marked the end of battle and the failure has been called the\nHigh Water Mark of the Confederacy. Lee gave up hope of further attack\non this field, and on the following day began his retreat toward the\nPotomac and Virginia.\nThe wooded knoll to the east is Cemetery Hill (No. 10 on the Tour Map).\nCemetery Ridge extends southward to Little Round Top (No. 7 on the Tour\nMap), the small hill partially cleared of trees at the left of Big Round\nTop. The Copse of Trees and The Angle (No. 8 on the Tour Map) are on the\ncrest of the Cemetery Ridge where the flagpole appears.\nSTOP 5. WARFIELD RIDGE.\nThe Union General Sickles, at noon July 2, began moving his troops\nforward from Cemetery Ridge and Little Round Top to Devil\u2019s Den Ridge\nand the Peach Orchard. Longstreet\u2019s Confederate corps was already\nmarching from the Chambersburg Road to extend the line southward across\nthe Emmitsburg Road. At 3:30 p. m., as Sickles\u2019 men were taking position\nat the Peach Orchard and the Emmitsburg Road, a half-mile north of here,\nLongstreet brought his army into position on this ridge. A brisk\nartillery exchange opened. Longstreet directed his infantry attack first\nat Little Round Top (the partially cleared hill to your right) and then\nalong the whole Union line northward to the Peach Orchard and the\nEmmitsburg Road. Four hours later, as darkness gathered, the Union line\nhad been shattered and forced to retreat. The Confederates gained\npossession of the west slope of Big Round Top, Devil\u2019s Den, and the high\nground in the vicinity of the Peach Orchard.\nSTOP 6. DEVIL\u2019S DEN.\nWhen General Sickles moved his corps forward to the Peach Orchard and\nthe Emmitsburg Road at 3 p. m., his left flank was here at Devil\u2019s Den.\nLongstreet\u2019s Confederate brigades soon came charging from the west.\nStriking the entire Union line, the base of Little Round Top and this\narea quickly became a shambles. After hours of desperate struggle, the\nUnion line had been broken and the remnants forced to the rear. The\nConfederates were now in possession of the west slope of Big Round Top,\nDevil\u2019s Den, the Wheatfield, and the Peach Orchard. Sharpshooters, using\nthe large boulders as defense positions, fired at Union men on the crest\nof Little Round Top, 700 yards distant. A typical sharpshooter\u2019s\nbarricade may still be seen at the top of Devil\u2019s Den.\nSTOP 7. LITTLE ROUND TOP.\nAs Sickles completed the forward movement from Little Round Top and the\narea northward, his new line extended from the Peach Orchard\nsoutheastward through the Wheatfield to Devil\u2019s Den (see boulders\nbelow). Longstreet\u2019s attack on Little Round Top developed from the ridge\na mile westward. His brigades successively struck the entire Union line\nfrom Devil\u2019s Den to the Emmitsburg Road. The Confederates in a 4-hour\nfight broke the entire Union line, and the remnants of Sickles\u2019 corps\nwere forced to retreat to the rear of the Round Tops. The Confederates\ngained possession of the west slope of Big Round Top, Devil\u2019s Den, the\nWheatfield (the open ground surrounded by woods), and the Peach Orchard\n(near the white buildings on the ridge). The quick action of General\nWarren (see bronze figure to the north) in bringing troops to Little\nRound Top saved the hill for the Union. The stone breastworks on the\nslope of the hill were constructed during the night of July 2 as a\ndefense measure against further attack. Big Round Top, a quarter of a\nmile southward, was heavily wooded at the time of the battle and could\nnot be used to advantage by either artillery or infantry.\nSTOP 8. CEMETERY RIDGE (THE ANGLE).\nOn the afternoon of July 2, General Lee had tried to turn the left flank\nof the Union line at Little Round Top and the Peach Orchard, and the\nright flank at Culp\u2019s Hill and Spangler\u2019s Spring. Meeting with only\npartial success in these attempts, he then planned to strike the center.\nFirst he massed his artillery on Seminary Ridge and across the fields.\nMany batteries were hardly more than 800 yards west of here. Beginning\nat 1 o\u2019clock they engaged in an artillery duel of nearly 2 hours with\nthe powerful Union batteries on this ridge. Then 15,000 men, in a battle\nline a mile in length, and spearheaded by Pickett\u2019s division, started\nfrom the Confederate lines across the open fields, with the Copse of\nTrees as their guide. When they reached the Emmitsburg Road 300 yards\naway, the men charged. Canister from Union artillery and concentrated\ninfantry fire from the Union men at the stone walls soon cut wide gaps\nin the Confederate line. They reached the wall, and a small band of men\ncrossed, but the tide had turned. In Lee\u2019s final great effort, he had\nlost nearly 10,000 of his men. The remnants gave way and soon were in\nfull retreat to the Confederate lines. The counterattack, which Lee\nfeared, never developed.\nThe Copse of Trees is at your left, surrounded by the iron fence. The\nposition of Cushing\u2019s battery of United States artillery, which held the\nposition at The Angle, is marked by four guns. The statue of General\nMeade stands to the right and rear.\nSTOP 9. MEADE\u2019S HEADQUARTERS.\nGen. George G. Meade, commanding the Union Army, arrived on the field\nnear midnight, July 1. He used the Leister house as his headquarters.\nOn the night of July 2, General Meade called a council of his corps\ncommanders in this house to determine whether they should hold the\npositions then established. The commanders advised him to hold the\nexisting lines. Meade, agreeing with their advice and expecting the next\nattack on the center of his line, began the concentration of artillery\nand infantry strength in this area.\nThe Leister house and barn were badly damaged by the artillery fire\nwhich preceded Pickett\u2019s Charge.\nSTOP 10. NATIONAL CEMETERY.\nSoon after the battle, Governor Curtin, of Pennsylvania, commissioned\nAttorney David Wills, of Gettysburg, to purchase this ground as a\ncemetery for the Union dead. While reburials from the temporary graves\non the battlefield were in progress, a committee arranged for a formal\ndedication on November 19, 1863. President Lincoln delivered his famous\nGettysburg Address on that occasion. The National Monument,\ncommemorating the Union soldiers who fell at Gettysburg, was dedicated,\nin 1869, on the site where Lincoln spoke. A memorial to the address was\nerected, in 1912, near the west gate of the cemetery.\nSTOP 11. CYCLORAMA OF PICKETT\u2019S CHARGE.\nThe Cyclorama of Pickett\u2019s Charge is regarded as a masterpiece of art.\nIt offers an unsurpassed picture of the wartime appearance of the field,\nthe manner of fighting, and of equipment employed. This magnificent\npainting, measuring 370 feet in circumference and 30 feet in height, was\nacquired by the National Park Service in 1942. The French artist, Paul\nPhilippoteaux, completed the painting in 1884. It was brought to\nGettysburg in 1913 when it was first mounted and exhibited in connection\nwith the observance of the 50th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg.\nSTOP 12. EAST CEMETERY HILL.\nEarly\u2019s Confederates assaulted Union positions here at dusk on July 2,\nin coordination with an attack on Culp\u2019s Hill (to your right). Rodes\u2019\nmen failed to charge from the west at the same time. Early\u2019s troops took\npossession of the hill and many of the guns, but in the absence of\nsupport from Rodes they were driven back. The desperate hand-to-hand\nfighting lasted long after dark.\nCulp\u2019s Hill is one-quarter mile eastward (see the observation tower) and\nSpangler\u2019s Spring a few hundred yards beyond. Oak Ridge, a landmark of\nthe first day\u2019s battle, appears northwest of the town.\nSTOP 13. CULP\u2019S HILL.\nA Confederate attack was directed against this hill on July 2 in\nconjunction with the assault on East Cemetery Hill. Because of the steep\nincline and the strength of the Union positions here at the crest, the\nConfederate force shifted southward across Rock Creek for a flank\nattack. Most of the Union troops had been ordered earlier to the defense\nof the Wheatfield and Peach Orchard. The Confederates, meeting with\nlittle resistance, took possession of the Union earthworks on the south\nslope of this hill. Before a Confederate attack developed against this\nposition on the following morning, the Union force had returned. After\nfighting throughout the forenoon of July 3, they forced the Confederates\nout of the Union defense works. The Union brigade commanded by General\nGreene retained this position throughout the battle of July 2 and 3.\nSTOP 14. SPANGLER\u2019S SPRING.\nFailing to take possession of Culp\u2019s Hill on the evening of July 2,\nJohnson\u2019s Confederate force shifted southward across Rock Creek and\nattacked the Union position on the hill north of this spring. The\ndefense works here had been vacated an hour earlier when most of the\ntroops were called to help defend the Union line in the Wheatfield and\nPeach Orchard. The Confederates then took possession of the Union works.\nThe Union forces, having returned during the night, opened fire at dawn\non July 3 with artillery and infantry. Confederate troops who were\nposted in the Union works and in rear of the stone wall on the hill to\nthe north made a determined stand. After hard fighting, which ended only\nat noon, the Union force succeeded in driving the Confederates out of\nthese works and eastward beyond striking range.\nIn 1895, the battlefield was established by act of Congress as\nGettysburg National Military Park. In that year, the Gettysburg\nBattlefield Memorial Association, which had been founded April 30, 1864,\nfor the purpose of commemorating \u201cthe great deeds of valor, endurance,\nand noble self-sacrifice, and to perpetuate the memory of the heroes,\nand the signal events which render these battlegrounds illustrious,\u201d\ntransferred its holdings of 600 acres of land, 17 miles of avenues, and\n320 monuments and markers to the Federal Government. Under the\njurisdiction of the War Department until 1933, the park was transferred\nin that year to the Department of the Interior to be administered by the\nNational Park Service. Today, the park consists of 2,554.82 acres of\nland and 26 miles of paved roads.\nThe fields over which the battles were fought cover about 16,000 acres\nand include the town of Gettysburg. A total of 2,390 monuments, tablets,\nand markers have been erected over the years to indicate the positions\nwhere infantry, artillery, and cavalry units fought. Of the 354 Union\nand 272 Confederate cannon engaged or held in reserve during the battle,\n233 Federal and 182 Confederate are located on the field in the\napproximate position of the batteries during the battle.\n            _Anniversary Reunions of the Civil War Veterans_\nThe great interest of veterans and the public alike in the Gettysburg\nbattlefield has been reflected over the years in three outstanding\nanniversary celebrations. Dominant in the observance of the 25th\nanniversary in 1888 were the veterans themselves, who returned to encamp\non familiar ground. It was on this occasion that a large number of\nregimental monuments, erected by survivors of regiments or by States,\nwere dedicated. Again, in 1913, on the 50th anniversary, even though the\nranks were gradually thinning, the reunion brought thousands of veterans\nback to the battlefield. Perhaps the most impressive tribute to the\nsurviving veterans occurred July 1-4, 1938, on the occasion of the\nobservance of the 75th anniversary of the battle and the last reunion of\nthe men who wore the blue and the gray. Although 94 years was the\naverage age of those attending, 1,845 veterans, out of a total of about\n8,000 then living, returned for the encampment. It was on this occasion\nthat the Eternal Light Peace Memorial was dedicated.\nGettysburg National Military Park and National Cemetery are accessible\nby highway over U. S. No. 30 from the east and west, U. S. No. 15 from\nthe north and south; U. S. No. 140 from Baltimore, Md.; State No. 34\nfrom Carlisle, Pa.; and State No. 116 from Hagerstown, Md., and Hanover,\nPa. Greyhound Bus Lines operate over U. S. Nos. 30 and 140; the Blue\nRidge Lines over U. S. No. 15 from the south; and the\nGettysburg-Harrisburg Bus Line over U. S. No. 15 from Harrisburg.\nGettysburg National Military Park is administered by the National Park\nService of the United States Department of the Interior. Communications\nshould be addressed to the Superintendent, Gettysburg National Military\nPark, Gettysburg, Pa.\nSignificant parts of most of the major battlefields of the Civil War\nhave been set aside under the control of the Federal Government to be\nadministered as national military areas by the National Park Service.\nAmong the areas in this group are: Antietam National Battlefield Site,\nMd.; Manassas National Battlefield Park, Va.; Fredericksburg and\nSpotsylvania County Battlefields Memorial National Military Park\n(includes Chancellorsville, The Wilderness, Spotsylvania Court House,\nand Fredericksburg battlefields), Va.; Petersburg National Military\nPark, Va.; Richmond National Battlefield Park, Va.; Appomattox Court\nHouse National Historical Park, Va.; Shiloh National Military Park,\nTenn; Fort Donelson National Military Park, Tenn.; Stones River National\nMilitary Park, Tenn.; Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military\nPark, Tenn.-Ga.; Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park, Ga.; Fort\nSumter National Monument, S. C.; Vicksburg National Military Park,\nMiss.; and Fort Pulaski National Monument, Ga.\nInformation and free literature concerning the park may be obtained at\nthe National Park Service museum in the Post Office building, at the\nnational cemetery office, and at the park entrance stations. The\nservices of park historians are available free for explanation of the\nbattle, talks over a relief model of the battlefield in the museum, and\nfor field tours with educational groups. A historian is stationed at\nLittle Round Top during the summer season.\nField exhibits, consisting of a map of the battlefield and wartime\nphotographs, are located at important points in the park for the use and\ninterest of the public. With the exception of December, January, and\nFebruary, the cyclorama is open weekdays from 10 a. m. to 12 noon and 1\np. m. to 5 p. m. and on Sundays 10 a. m. to 12 noon and 1 p. m. to 6 p.\nm. The admission fee is 25 cents for persons 12 years of age and over.\nSchool groups, 12 to 18 years of age, and children under 12 years of age\nare admitted free. Battlefield guides, licensed by the National Park\nService, operate under the supervision of the park superintendent. A\ncomplete tour of the park, which covers the battleground of July 1,\nnorth and west of Gettysburg, and of July 2 and 3, south of the town,\nrequires approximately 2 hours, and the guide fee is $4. A special tour,\ncovering the main points of interest and requiring about 1 hour, is\navailable at a fee of $3. The guide fee for a short bus tour is $5; for\na long bus tour $6.\n    [Illustration: BATTLEFIELD OF GETTYSBURG]\n  LEGEND\n    1 MCPHERSON RIDGE\n    2 OAK HILL\n    3 OAK RIDGE\n    4 SEMINARY RIDGE\n    5 WARFIELD RIDGE\n    6 DEVIL\u2019S DEN\n    7 LITTLE ROUND TOP\n    8 THE ANGLE\n    9 MEADE\u2019S HDQRS.\n    10 NAT\u2019L. MONUMENT\n    11 CYCLORAMA\n    12 EAST CEMETERY HILL\n    13 CULPS HILL\n    14 SPANGLER\u2019S SPRING\n                         NATIONAL PARK SERVICE\n                       HISTORICAL HANDBOOK SERIES\n   (Price lists of National Park Service publications may be obtained\n                 from the Superintendent of Documents,\n  Antietam\n  Bandelier\n  Chalmette\n  Chickamauga and Chattanooga Battlefields\n  Custer Battlefield\n  Custis-Lee Mansion, the Robert E. Lee Memorial\n  Fort Laramie\n  Fort McHenry\n  Fort Necessity\n  Fort Pulaski\n  Fort Raleigh\n  Fort Sumter\n  George Washington Birthplace\n  Gettysburg\n  Guilford Courthouse\n  Hopewell Village\n  Independence\n  Jamestown, Virginia\n  Kings Mountain\n  The Lincoln Museum and the House Where Lincoln Died\n  Manassas (Bull Run)\n  Montezuma Castle\n  Morristown, a Military Capital of the Revolution\n  Ocmulgee\n  Petersburg Battlefields\n  Saratoga\n  Scotts Bluff\n  Shiloh\n  Statue of Liberty\n  Vanderbilt Mansion\n  Vicksburg\n  Yorktown\n    [Illustration: Eagle statue]\n\u2014Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook\n  is public-domain in the country of publication.\n\u2014Corrected a few palpable typos.\n\u2014In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by\n  _underscores_.\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gettysburg National Military Park,\nPennsylvania, by Frederick Tilberg\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GETTYSBURG NATIONAL MILITARY PARK ***\n***** This file should be named 56209-0.txt or 56209-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1926, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Suzanne Shell, Stephanie Eason, and the Online\n  The American Negro Academy.\n  OCCASIONAL PAPERS NO. 10.\n  The Defects of the\n  Negro Church.\n  BY ORISHATUKEH FADUMA.\n  PRICE FIFTEEN CENTS.\n  WASHINGTON, D. C.:\n  Published by the Academy,\nThe Defects of the Negro Church.\nThe writer does not undertake to point out all the defects of the Negro\nchurch. He does not lay any claim to omniscience.\nThe limits of time and the scope of the subject prevent him from\ndiscussing even what he knows in part. It is only some of the leading\ndefects in the Negro Church which will be presented for discussion. It\nmay be necessary to state at the onset that the writer is an optimist in\nhis studies of questions relating to his race. If at any time he is\ncompelled to use the surgeon's knife he will do so with the utmost\nsympathy and with a view to heal. It may also be necessary to state, in\norder to allay the fears of our friends and prevent the reckless\ncriticism of our detractors, that the defects of the Negro church are\nfound more or less in churches of other races. They are the same in kind\nbut differ in degree, on account of difference in environment. They are\nnot inherent in the race, but are found wherever the environments call\nfor them. It may be laid down as an axiomatic truth that there has never\nbeen and there is not a perfect church. Of the twelve men who formed the\nnucleus of the Christian church and who had the advantage of the\npersonal teaching of the Christ, one was a doubter, another was\nworldly-minded, a betrayer, and a son of perdition who sought relief\nfrom the stings of conscience by self-destruction; a third was a\ndeserter and vacillator, who drew from the great apostle of the Gentiles\na stinging rebuke for stultifying his conscience during that exciting\ncontroversy which was to settle once for all whether Christianity was to\nbe a racial or a universal religion. But because there never was a\nperfect church is no reason why we should speak lightly or condone the\ndefects of the Negro Church. Our ideal of the Negro Church is one which\nwill have as few defects as possible. If we expose these defects it is\nbecause our aim is to correct them so as to reach as near as possible\nour ideal. We hope we shall not be misunderstood if we submit for\ninvestigation the following defects in the Negro Church.\nI. THE TENDENCY TO LAY STRESS ON OUTWARDNESS RATHER THAN INWARDNESS.\nAll life is known by its manifestations. The latter is the outcome, the\neffect of the former. The manifestations of life cannot by any means be\nmore important than the life which makes them possible. Christianity is\na religion of inwardness, it finds its root in the heart and soul of\nman, then effects the outward life. Whenever the inner or spiritual life\nis renewed, there follows from necessity a renewed exterior. There must\nbe first life in the soul. Nor can there be any evolution of the soul or\nof society without a previous involution in them. The whole nature of\nman must be wrapped up in the image of God before any fruits of\nGodliness show themselves. The tendency in the Negro Church is to look\nfor these manifestations rather than to work for the indwelling spirit\nwho is the cause of such manifestations. Parallel with this tendency in\nthe church, is the effort which is being made after expression of\nreligious life when it should be directed along the line of impressing\nit. The church is in need of a deep spiritual life, nevertheless it is\nimpossible to express what is not previously impressed in the mind.\nThere is a form of oratory prevalent among us, a mere jingle of sounds,\nan expression of nothing of much value. Under its spell the man of the\nworld is caught, received into the church as a convert, but not being\nimpressed with the divine life and ideal, he soon falls away. The mad\nrush after quantity rather than quality of converts is another\nindication of the outwardness of religion in the church. One of the most\nsignificant words spoken by Christ was, \"Many are called but few\nchosen.\" The church seems to be carried away with the idea of the\nextension of God's Kingdom when it does not sufficiently grasp the idea\nof its intension. Because there is not depth in spiritual life, not\nintensiveness in the culture of souls, the church does not gain much in\nexpansion. Again, the church is an organization, but an organization\npresupposes an organ. It is evident that if the organ--the instrument\nupon which all order and arrangement depend--is out of gear, the\norganization is valueless. All attempts to organize men without a\nspiritual organ must be a failure. The organization of a church is more\nthan the putting together of bricks and other dead materials, it is the\nbringing together, in an orderly manner, of living souls possessed with\nspiritual power and renewed in the image of God. There is another form\nof outwardness to which the Negro church is tending at oneself and\nvaluing oneself from appearance. It tends to make religion a puppet\nshow. The growth of the church is estimated at number of dollars\ncollected, number of churches built, and number of followers. The Negro\nis prone to fall into this error because of the many denials his critics\nmake of his ability in self-government. It leads him to make a parade of\nhis religion and a show of his capabilities. The purpose of religion is\nto deepen the spiritual life and help men to be in harmony with God and\nnature, not to satisfy critics and detractors. The work of the church is\nto lead men to have in full measure the life and light of the Spirit. It\nis in the nature of life and light whenever and wherever found to be\nactive. They will assert themselves if they are in the church, not in a\nboastful spirit but with Christian modesty. Cause must precede effect.\nThe foundation of the church must be securely laid before its\nsuperstructure is attempted. There must be a base of supply before the\narmy marches to battle.\nI have attempted to indicate briefly in what lines the church is exposed\nand is tending to outwardness. It lays greater stress on evolution of\nlife; in eagerness for the expression of its life it neglects its\nimpression; it emphasizes extensiveness rather than intensiveness,\nquantity rather than quality; it runs after the gewgaws of religion and\ndoes not look inward, deep down in the soul; its organization lacks an\norgan with a spiritual life deep enough to suppress worldliness.\nII. NEGLECT OF RURAL COMMUNITIES.\nAnother defect of the Negro church is her neglect of rural communities.\nFrom eighty to eighty-five per cent of the race is to be found in our\nsmall towns where ignorance and superstition prevail to an alarming\nextent. Among the causes of this neglect are:\n(1) The need of adequate funds for the support of churches.\n(2) The need of suitable men for these churches.\n(3) Discrimination made by church authorities in the sending of their\nbest men to fill city churches on account of inadequate funds in the\ncountry churches.\n(4) The poverty of country churches and their inability to provide for\nthe support of their pastors, especially those who are needed most in\ncities.\n(5) The repulsiveness of rural districts on account of inadequate\nprotection and little justice given to the Negro.\nWhere there are supplementary grants or a reserve fund as aids to\nstruggling churches, better work is done and suitable men are seen in\nthe country churches. Suitable men are so rare that the city churches\neasily keep them by the offer of larger salaries. Even the city's need\nis not yet fully met. The demand is greater than the supply in both\nplaces but still greater in the country. For this neglect of country\nchurches, a neglect by no means wilful, what are the results? We may\nmention a few.\n(1) Country pastors are often compelled to take to other callings, their\nchurch work being supplementary and subsidiary. Hence energy needed for\npastoral and pulpit work is dissipated in the effort to make a living.\n(2) The paganization of Christianity. One of the saddest things that has\nhappened to Negroes in our rural districts is the presentation to them\nof Christianity in a crude, uncouth, and distorted form. It is a form of\nChristianity with the Christ left out. The songs of the church, its\nprayers and experiences are there but in a mutilated form, divested of\ntheir spiritual significance. The \"Big Meeting,\" or revival meeting\noften gives an opportunity for a revival of the latent paganism in the\nNegro. The weird songs, the wild excitement of the people followed by\nthe unchaste exposures and hysteria of women, the physical agony and\nwallowing on the floor, and the violent physical gymnastics among both\nsexes is a species of voodooism imported from the religion of heathen\nAfrica. It is deplorable because its after effects are demoralizing. The\nsituation is grave and calls for rebuke, because it is deeply entrenched\nin our country churches and is encouraged by pastors who ought to point\nout a better way. In Africa Christianity is displacing paganism, in\nrural America paganism is displacing Christianity. Our rural population\nis confronted with a form of Christianity which does not civilize. Since\nthe corruption of the best thing is the worst thing, it may be fairly\nstated that Christianity is receiving an unfair treatment in a\nprofessedly Christian country from a professedly Christian people.\n(3) Funds being inadequate to support country churches, and men\nqualified to fill them being few even if funds were at hand, there\nfollows as a necessity the _employment of unqualified men_ to fill\nvacancies. So pressing is the need for preachers that in many cases any\nkind of men rather than no men at all seems to be the best that can be\ndone. Hence some men accept appointments for what they can get out of\nthem. Fitness in any form is out of the question in many of these\nappointments. The country churches have therefore become the dumping\nground where pastors sink or swim. There too may be found a host of\nimmoral preachers. This fact in itself creates a prejudice in the minds\nof a class of preachers against accepting country appointments. It is\nonly the few who are strongly imbued with a missionary spirit that are\nwilling to labor and lift up the standard in the interest of God and\nfallen humanity. One of the surest ways of breaking down this prejudice\nis for the churches to send some of their best men to country churches\nand provide for their support. Missionary societies aiming at best\nresults send some of their best men as pioneers and bishops to the\nheathen. It is only by a selective method of appointing men to our\ncountry churches that these places can be reclaimed from heathenism and\nimmorality. It is only then that the \"wilderness and the solitary place\nshall be glad, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.\"\nIII. THE NEGRO MINISTRY.\nOne of the defects of the Negro Church is the defect in the culture of\nits ministry. In spite of all that has been said and done to create\nprejudice against the higher education of the Negro, statistics have\nfailed everywhere to show that our schools have turned out a large\npercentage of College or University graduates. There are a few College\nor University graduates in the ranks of our ministry. A larger\npercentage has failed even to get through a High School course. The\ndefect in scholarship and culture constitutes a grave problem in our\nchurch life. The leader of a people must be a man of broad culture, wide\nsympathies, and in touch with all the varied interests of the people. It\nis not enough to be able to read the Bible or pass an examination in\ndenominational theology. The modern teacher and preacher of today must\nbe acquainted with the humanities. If not a scientist he must know the\ntrend of scientific thought and its relation to the Bible. The best\npoetry of nations should be at his command on account of the refining\ninfluence which it has always exercised on mankind in all ages. The\nmasterpieces of the world's best prose writers, the history of art, the\nstudy of the philosophy of history, and the too neglected study of the\nhistory of ethnic religions must be in his possession, not simply in the\nlibrary of his home but in the library of his mind. Most if not all of\nthese studies may be prosecuted outside the college, but the college\ncurriculum has the advantage of system which the average preacher does\nnot have. College and University courses are excellent, not so much for\nwhat one can remember out of the many things studied in them, but for\nthe system and mental discipline as well as the social culture through\nwhich one passes. The interests of the church demand that the pulpit\nshall lead the pew. Considering the influence which the Negro ministry\nhas over its laity, the demand becomes more and more imperative. It is\nnot a learned ministry but a cultured ministry, a ministry with higher\ntastes and aspirations, a ministry which in spite of the materialism of\nthe times will make the time to study and see the beautiful, the good,\nand the true, in God's handiwork. It is this lack of culture which makes\nmany a preacher narrow-minded. To them the beauties of nature are dead.\nTo their barren minds nature is a barren wilderness.\n(2) From being uncultured the Negro ministry finds it an easy descent to\nbeing immoral. It must be borne in mind that all the defects enumerated\nof the ministry or laity are defects not of the whole ministry or laity,\nbut are defects found among them to a large extent. The salvation of the\nchurch and the race is due to the faithful few, pure and noble men and\nwomen among us. They are the salt of the race and are growing in numbers\nas years increase. The future is full of hope. It is painful nevertheless\nto know that there is still a large number of immoral preachers, though\nnot as large as there used to be. Churches and church authorities, and\nthe educated sentiment of the race are on the alert and are quickly\ndisplacing these men whenever they are found. In the conflict of the\nchurch with the Titan of immorality, the church needs as helpers, men\nwith a hundred hands like Briareus to hold down this elusive monster.\nThe term immorality may include all kinds of conduct which the custom of\nour times supported by enlightened sentiment disapproves. But the object\nof the writer is not to charge the Negro ministry with all kinds of\nmisdemeanors. There is only one kind of conduct which is so far-reaching\nin its results because it is fundamentally subversive of and destructive\nto the best interests of society, that the writer wishes to bring up as\na defect of our ministry. It is sexual unchastity. There are causes for\nthis depravity among a certain class of Negro ministers. It is not a\nconstitutional disease in the Negro as many of the detractors of the\nrace have affirmed. Acquaintance with the ancestral life of the African\nshows without the shadow of a doubt that the morality of the heathen as\nrelates to sexes is part of the religion of most African tribes before\nthey are brought into contact with a foreign civilization. Plantation\nlife in American society where illicit sexual intercourse was the rule\nand not the exception, fostered and encouraged by white masters of the\npast, and still practised though less extensively by white men, is a\nproduct of Anglo-Saxon civilization. The environments of country life\nencourage illicit living, and to men already reared among them are a\nsnare. Some of these environments are found in the log-cabin in which\nfamilies are crowded together like cattle, and sexual privacy and\ndecorum are impossible. The plantation log-cabin finds its counterpart\nin the slums of cities with their crowded alleys. The landlord in both\ncases is at the bottom of these evils. It is but fair to state that\nthese environments when found in the cities or among the peasantry of\nEurope, as in France and Russia, reveal social evils even worse than\nthose found among Negroes in the United States. But the point we wish to\nemphasize is this, that environments help to make the man, and the man\nhelps to make his environments. There is a class of men among Negro\npreachers whose environments have not been other than those in the\nplantations, these are the men who are unfit to be the leaders of the\npeople. When on account of their natural ability and gift of speech they\nare set aside as preachers, it only gives them a larger opportunity to\ndemoralize themselves and those with whom they come into contact. It\nwill always take men of the strongest moral fibre in any race to elevate\nthose who live either in the slums of cities or in the cabin life of\nplantations, otherwise the gain to Christian missions will be in\nquantity rather than quality. Hence the need of specific training of the\nbest kind in schools where students of the race will find healthy\nenvironments to inspire them to higher and nobler living. Hence the need\nof higher education for the race because it subjects the recipient to an\natmosphere of healthy environments long enough to saturate his life. For\nhis own interest the Negro preacher should do his utmost to improve the\nsocial condition of his people in city or farm, since that condition\nreflects for good or evil upon his own character.\n3. One of the best results of the Protestant reformation is the\ndiffusion of God's word among the people. Through the reformation the\nBible ceased to be tongue-tied. Its history, poetry of war and love, its\ntragedy, its simple gospel stories of the Christ comprise a literature\nthat is unsurpassed, and a revelation of God that is unique. But the\nBible can only be intelligently understood by the people when the mind\nof the people is prepared to receive it. One of the worst results\ngrowing indirectly out of the Protestant reformation, is the creation of\nan ignorant priesthood and the reducing of the Bible to a fetich. It\nfollows as a matter of course that where the ministry is uncultured, the\ninterpretation of the word of God suffers. The spirit of God can not do\nwhat man is intended to do. He can only illumine where the mind is\nprepared to pass through the process. Revelation requires a medium,\notherwise it is powerless. To understand the mind of God in the Bible\npresupposes a mind to comprehend His mind. With the Negro's deficient\nministry, religion becomes irreligion. He believes too much in the\nnon-essentials of religion, his heaven and hell are too much in the\ndistant future, he prays that after death he may go to heaven but sees\nno heaven on earth. The new heaven and the new earth which John saw and\nthe new Jerusalem coming down from God to man are antipodal to his\nconceptions. His God is seen going up to some cloudless region instead\nof coming down to tabernacle with men. His sermons feed the feelings but\nneglect the intellect and will, they tickle the ear and subordinate\ntruth to eloquence. The greater emphasis he puts on churchianity is a\nloss to Christianity. The contribution which modern thought is making to\nBiblical interpretation is sealed to him. He pursues his beaten path\nalong the old ruts of ecclesiasticism. He believes in a revelation which\nis non-progressive and whose distinctive feature is sameness for all\ntimes. He is painfully liberal in the construction of the Bible. He\nthinks he is a curse himself according to the prophet Noah, for he has\nnot yet discovered the distinctive and conditional element in prophecy.\nHis theology is in the main denominational and is like the laws of the\nMedes and Persians which admit of no change. His mind does not\ndiscriminate between the _ipse dixit_ of the Almighty and external\nauthority in matters relating to dogma. In the pulpit he lacks decorum,\ndeep spirituality, and contemplation. His oratory is thunderous, too\nphysical, and lacks grace and beauty.\nMuch praise is due to those denominations whose forethought has led them\nto spend considerable time and pains to prepare men for the gospel\nministry. In quality of preaching and teaching, and in results already\nachieved, the race owes much to this as yet small band of workers. Like\nthe leaven hidden in the meal its influence is being felt in the church,\nin the farm, and in the firesides of the people, and is destined to\noverthrow ignorance, immorality, and superstition. With the continued\naid of well-equipped mission schools which must be the base of supply\nfor our churches, and the training of a new type of men such as the\nmodern church demands, the moral change so much hoped for will be\nhastened.\n4. The world-spirit is in the churches and has taken hold of our\nministry. A large part of church duties which should be performed by\nlaymen is shirked and placed upon the minister's shoulders. The result\nis that the minister is often overburdened with secular matters, is\nforced to leave the word and serve tables and loses much spirituality.\nWhen a minister's success depends largely and primarily upon amount of\ndollars raised by him his spiritual decline is rapid. Worldliness\nfollows when desire for position or recognition in the church overcomes\nthe desire to save men, and when the ordinary tricks of politics are\nresorted to in order to gain church distinctions. It is a reversal of\nChrist's order, \"Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness and\nall these things shall be added unto you.\" These other things are\neagerly desired in place of the \"first\" things. The more elaborate the\norganization of a church is, the larger is the number of preferments to\noffices, and greater the opportunity given to office seekers to make\nthese the first things. The best men in any church are not always those\nwho hold its highest offices. Too much organization in the church leads\nto too much officialism and worldliness, for \"where the carcass is,\nthere will the vultures be gathered together.\"\nIV. THE LAITY.\nThe laity lack much consecration. The things of this world and the\ndesire for them press more heavily upon their minds than the extension\nof God's cause. Their Christian consciousness is not trained, hence\ntheir sense of duty is not high. They depend too much on spasms of\neffort and frequent appeals to the emotions in the performance of duty.\nTheir idea of the gospel is too confined to hearing sermons on Sunday.\nTheir gospel does not touch the many interests of life. Their virtues\nare not concrete. Holiness, purity, love, truth, beauty, justice,\ngoodness are metaphysical abstractions. Too much self-centred and\nself-seeking, they make little or no sacrifice for others. Many\nself-supporting churches do not shelter weaker ones and have no thought\nfor the heathen. There are churches that are fortunate in having in\ntheir official boards men of culture, piety, and business experience,\nbut these are virtues very rarely found in the same men. Business\nmethods are often low in churches because of the difficulty of finding\nstrictly business men among the laity. In the erection of churches the\nspirit of ostentation rather than worship is dominant. The immorality of\ndebt not being known, churches are very often built without regard to\nthe financial inability of the people, and deceive by suggesting rich\nparishioners when the people are very poor and live from hand to mouth.\nMany disruptions between pastors and churches could have been avoided\nwere church finances not kept in a confused state. Pastor's salaries and\nother church obligations are not raised and met in a systematic way, but\nare left to appeals to the feelings of the people whose ethical sense\nhas not been cultivated. We have thus enumerated among the defects of\nthe laity, worldliness, untrained Christian consciousness, restricted\nmeaning of the gospel, the non-concreteness of the Christian virtues,\nand the lack of a missionary spirit and of business methods.\nV. EXCESSIVE EMOTIONALISM IN WORSHIP.\nParadoxical as it may seem, in religion the Negro's emotions constitute\nhis strongest as well as his weakest point. The fact that he is largely\ndeveloped in the emotional side of his nature would, other things being\nequal, give him a vantage ground in matters of religion. His defect is\nnot that he is emotional, but that he is excessively so. Like other\nraces in their childhood, he is a bundle of feelings. He does not think\nafter God, he does not will after God, but he feels after God. He is not\ndriven to action because he is impelled by a moral imperative, the law\nof duty, but he is controlled by his nerves which are his thermometer.\nWith the nerves as his guide it is impossible to tell where he stands on\nmany moral questions. Neurotic environments appeal quickly to him, and\nare fostered by the church in sermons which appeal largely to the\nimagination, in weird pictures of the unseen, in apocalyptic sermons,\nand by mystic preachers known as mourners, shouters and visioners. As a\nsubject of experimentation in physco-physics, the most fitting time is\nin seasons of revival in religion when his emotion is keyed to the\nhighest point.\nThe following stages may be noticed:\n(1) Violent physical commotion followed by physical exhaustion.\n(2) Loss of physical control.\n(3) Loss of moral control. At this stage there is a feeling of abandon\nleading often to unchaste exposure of the person, wild cries as if\ndemented, and all kinds of extravagances.\n(4) Mental infection as well as emotional panic. At this stage there is\npandemonium. Many obtain religion by the process of infection.\n(5) A lowered physical as well as moral vitality. At the last meeting of\nthe British Association for the Advancement of Science, a thoughtful\npaper by Dr. Graham of Ireland showed that there was less insanity among\nRoman Catholics than Protestants in Ireland, due to difference in type\nof religion, Protestants of Ireland being intensely morbid and ascetic\nin their Calvinism. (Congregationalist, Nov. 29, 1902, p. 781.) I\nshould not be surprised, if investigation was made, that similar results\nwould be seen in America not only between Protestants and Roman\nCatholics, but among Protestants themselves. I should not be surprised\nthat there were fewer maniacs among Presbyterians and Congregationalists\nthan among Baptists and Methodists. May not students of physco-physics\nmake this a study for the benefit of religion? To the use of emotions in\nreligion the writer has no objections, he is heartily in favor, but he\nseriously objects to excessive emotionalism for the following reasons:\n(1) It fails to recognize the moral and ethical judgment.\n(2) It fails to recognize the volitional side of human nature. \"With a\nman's will-power dormant, undeveloped, unknown, all attempt at really\ntraining and moulding the character is foolish because impossible. Man\nsometimes attempts it; God never does. He calls into activity first of\nall a man's will. He seeks to know what a man's own free choice is. Then\nhe knows what course to follow in his schooling of the soul.\"[1]\n(3) It fails to recognize the rational side of human nature.\n(4) It is at variance with our concrete experience of life. In our daily\nexperience we think, feel and will for action.\n(5) It is sickly feminine and appeals to neurotics.\nThere are some general facts in connection with the philosophy of\nreligion which are often overlooked in the study of the Negro religion.\nTwo stages may be noticed in the history of the religious development of\npeoples, the primitive and the rational. The primitive stage is poetical\nand imaginative, in fact religion is then in its barbaric state. In its\nrational stage we see the religious man under a developed rule of\nconduct. He still feels but his feelings are controlled by reason. There\nis nothing new in the religion of the Negro. He is by no means a\npeculiar man from a religious standpoint. The physical contortions and\ngyrations noticed in his Christian worship are as old as the history of\nreligion itself, if not older than it. In his worship we may see things\nwhich are found in the heathen rites of the native African, in the\nBacchanalia of the Greeks, among the Sali or dancing priests of the\nRomans, and among the Corybantes. The same effect which is produced on\nthe feelings of the Negro has been produced on the feelings of the\nAmerican Indian, as well as on the ancient bards of Scotland, Ireland,\nWales, and Germany. Lord Macaulay, describing the Puritan, says: \"In his\ndevotional retirement he prayed with convulsions, and groans, and tears.\nHe was half maddened by glorious or terrible illusions. He heard the\nlyres of angels or the tempting whispers of friends. He caught a gleam\nof the Beautific Vision, or woke screaming from dreams of everlasting\nfire.\" In the girlhood days of the late Elizabeth Cady Stanton her\nsensitive mind was nearly overbalanced, and she suffered terribly from\nthe too vivid description of future punishment by the emotional Finney.\nThe imagery of the Book of Revelation has a peculiar effect on the\nfeelings of the Negro. Its mysticism acts like a spell over him. Says\nMacaulay, \"The Greek Rhapsodists, according to Plato, could not recite\nHomer without almost falling into convulsions.\" The Mohawk hardly feels\nthe scalping knife while he shouts his death song. The Dijazerti in the\nregion of the Sahara believe that communication with Allah is only\npossible in a state of trance, and accordingly they work themselves into\na religious frenzy, while the ignorant among them repeat the name of\nAllah many thousand times till they fall into a state of unconsciousness.\nWe do not wonder, considering the primitive state of religion, why men\nwere spell-bound under its influence. It is all the more conspicuous in\ntropical natures, for there youth is exuberant. In all primitive states\nof religion we notice the same abandonment, the same illusions produced\non the imagination, the contortions of the body, the child-like\ncredulity, the superstition, the depression, and exaltations of the\nfeelings, \"the agony, the ecstasy, the plentitude of belief.\" They are\nthe complement of barbaric faith, and not a peculiarity of the Negro. If\nin these primitive conditions we see the Negro tickled by a straw, or\nfrightened by a ghost, or in moments of ecstasy spreading out his hands\nin an attempt to fly up to heaven without dying, these are the natural\nconcomitants of such conditions. We pity, rather than censure him, more\nespecially when we remember that for two hundred years in the house of\nbondage, his wild, primitive nature was left untrained.\nWhat is needed for the proper religious development of the Negro is\neducation, not repression or subjugation of his feelings. We cannot\nemphasize this fact too much. There is the danger, in the zeal of\npreserving the holy ark, of defiling it by unholy contact. The Negro\nneeds more thought in his religion, but religion is not all thought. To\nhave a proper balance in religion as in every-day life, the faculties of\nthought, feeling, and volition must be present, distributed in fair\nproportions. When reason is overfed in the exercise of religion, the\nresult is a dry and barren rationalism. When the emotions are overfed\nthe result is a wild and sickly sentimentalism, a neurotic religion.\nFootnote:\n[1] The divine method of Inquiry. Biblical World. Dec. 1902, p. 450.\nTranscriber's Notes:\nPassages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.\nThe  misprint \"soons\" has been corrected to \"soon\" (page 4).", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Defects of the Negro Church\n"},
{"language": "eng", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "sponsor": "Library of Congress, Motion Picture, Broadcasting and Recorded Sound Division", "contributor": "Library of Congress, MBRS, Moving Image Section", "subject": ["motion pictures", "Motion pictures -- Catalogs", "Motion pictures in education"], "title": "1000 and One: The Blue Book of Non-Theatrical Films (1926)", "lccn": "41008703", "collection": ["libraryofcongresspackardcampus", "mediahistory", "fedlink", "library_of_congress", "americana"], "shiptracking": "ST000493", "identifier_bib": "0 007 244 811 A", "call_number": "LB1044 .A2 B5", "publisher": "Chicago, Educational Screen", "possible-copyright-status": "Library of Congress has determined that this item is not in copyright", "boxid": "0 007 244 811 A", "other_availability": "http://mediahistoryproject.org", "mediatype": "texts", "repub_state": "4", "page-progression": "lr", "publicdate": "2013-11-05 13:43:53", "updatedate": "2013-11-05 14:39:16", "updater": "associate-caitlin-markey@archive.org", "identifier": "1000onethebluebo00unse", "uploader": "associate-caitlin-markey@archive.org", "addeddate": "2013-11-05 14:39:18.678964", "scanner": "scribe10.capitolhill.archive.org", "notes": "No table-of-contents pages found.", "repub_seconds": "164", "ppi": "600", "camera": "Canon EOS 5D Mark II", "operator": "associate-lian-kam@archive.org", "scandate": "20131121184130", "republisher": "associate-phillip-gordon@archive.org", "imagecount": "144", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/1000onethebluebo00unse", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t4wh4zm9n", "date": "1926", "year": "1926", "curation": "[curator]associate-manuel-dennis@archive.org[/curator][date]20131211125638[/date][state]approved[/state][comment]195[/comment]", "scanfee": "125", "sponsordate": "20131231", "volume": "4", "backup_location": "ia905709_14", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:795667635", "description": "29 v. 19-26 cm", "creator": "Educational Screen", "date-start": "1926", "date-string": "1926", "journal-title": "Blue book of audio-visual materials", "republisher_operator": "associate-phillip-gordon@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20131127154732", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "94", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1926, "content": "The Educational Screen (Fourth Edition)\n\nI. Directorate\nHerbert E. Slaughter, President, University of Chicago.\nFrederick J. Lane, Treasurer, Chicago Schools.\nJoseph J. Weber, University of Arkansas.\nDudley Grant Hats, Chicago Schools.\nFrank R. Greene, New York City.\nWilliam R. Duftet, Marquette University.\nNelson L. Greene, Secretary and Editor, Chicago,\n\nII. Editorial Advisory Board\nA. W. Abrams, NY State Department of Education.\nRichard Burton, University of Minnesota.\nCarlos E. Cummincs, Buffalo Society of Natural Sciences.\nFrank N. Freeman, The University of Chicago.\nDudley Grant Hats, Assistant Sup't. of Schools, Chicago.\nF. Dean McCluskey, Purdue University.\nRowland Rocers, Columbia University.\nH. B. Wilson, Superintendent of Schools, Berkeley, Calif.\n\nStaff\nNelson L. Greene, Editor-in-Chief.\nMarie E. Goodenough, Associate Editor.\nRobert E. Clark, Circulation Manager.\nGeorge H. Hill, Eastern Representative.\nCarlos E. Cummincs, Josephine F. Hoffman, Geneva Holmes Huston, Rev. Frank E. Jensen, Marion F. Lanphier, Stella Evelyn Myers, Marguerite Orndorff\n\nPublications of The Educational Screen\nThe Educational Screen (including Moving Picture Age and Visual Education), now the only magazine in the field of visual education. Published every month except July and August. Subscription price, $1.50 a year ($2.00 for non-US)\nComparative Effectiveness of Some Visual Aids in Seventh Grade Instruction, by Joseph J. Weber, Ph. D., University of Arkansas. $1.50 (To subscribers, $1.00).\n\nVisual Instruction in the Berkeley Schools, by Committee from the Berkeley Schools, Anna V. Dorris, Chairman. 112 pages, paper cover. $1.00.\n\nTwo years: $1.75 (for 1001 Films), $2.25. In Canada: $2.00 ($3.00 for two years). Foreign Countries: $2.50 ($4.00 for two years).\n\nJoseph J. Weber's doctoral thesis, accepted by Columbia University. 131 pages, cloth.\n\nFirst and finest practical manual for all visual workers. The Berkeley Schools' publication. Anna V. Dorris, Chairman. 112 pages, paper cover.\nFor the past 12 years, these charts have been used by students and general readers everywhere. Revised and uniform editions of these charts are ready. Single copies: 50 cents each. (To subscribers, $.37.) Special offer: one of each of 4 charts, $1.50. (To subscribers, $1.00.) Discounts on quantities on application.\n\nVisual Education - A Retrospect, an Analysis and a Solution by George E. Stone. Twelve-page pamphlet (Reprint). Price: 15 cents (To subscribers, 10 cents).\n\nVisual Aids in Education by Joseph J. Weber. Twelve-page pamphlet (Reprint). Price: 15 cents (To subscribers, 10 cents).\n\nThe Stereograph as a Visual Aid by Joseph J. Weber. Eight-page pamphlet with illustrations (Reprint). Price: 15 cents (To subscribers, 10 cents).\n\nBibliography on the Use of Visual Aids in Education by Joseph J. Weber. Twelve-page pamphlet (Reprint). Price: 25 cents (To subscribers, 15 cents).\nThe Blue Book of Non-Theatrical Films\nEditors: Nelson L. Greene, Chairman Marie E. Goodenough Josephine F. Hoffman Rev. Frank E. Jensen Stella Evelyn Myers Marguerite Orndorff\nPublished and Copyrighted, June 1926\nThe Educational Screen inc.\n5 SOUTH WABASH AVENUE\nCHICAGO, ILL.\n\nAdvertisement\nPhotoplays of unique charm, beauty and educational importance, invaluable for teaching and unrivaled for general non-theatrical use.\n\nThe Chronicles of America\nBeautiful and inspiring films reproducing with accuracy in every detail events of major importance in the life of our nation.\n\nProduced by the Yale University Press, with the cooperation of distinguished historians and technical experts, under the supervision and control of a Committee of the Council of Yale University.\n\nThe following fifteen subjects are now ready: Columbus\nJamestown, The Pilgrims, The Puritans, Peter Stuyvesant, The Gateway to the West, Wolfe and Montcalm, The Eve of the Revolution, The Declaration of Independence, Daniel Boone, Vincennes, The Frontier Woman, Yorktown, Alexander Hamilton\n\nWrite for a 64-page illustrated booklet. Yale University Press Film Service Photoplays Yale University, New Haven, Connecticut New York Office, 522 Fifth Avenue (Physical Distributor, Pathe Exchange Inc.) Fourth Edition\n\nForeword\n\nThis is the Fourth Edition of \"1000 and One.\" It is the result of many months of work by the editorial staff of The Educational Screen in gathering data, from all sources, on the following subjects: Jamestown, The Pilgrims, The Puritans, Peter Stuyvesant, The Gateway to the West, Wolfe and Montcalm, The Eve of the Revolution, The Declaration of Independence, Daniel Boone, Vincennes, The Frontier Woman, Yorktown, Alexander Hamilton. Every individual and every organization listed in the \"Reference List\" on pages 106-119 of the previous edition (1924) \u2014 as well as the new producing and distributing organizations which have emerged since then.\nI have consulted directly and repeatedly during the past two years for the creation of this edition. This systematic compilation enhances the accuracy and completeness of film information in the present edition. A comparison of the two editions will reveal that some films listed in the 1924 edition appear again in this volume with new material. No film was excluded based on its previous appearance in the previous volume, but selection was necessary due to the limited size of the present volume. The tendency has been to include as much new material as possible in each group. Therefore, if a desired film that was listed in the previous edition does not appear here, it is not safe to assume that the film is excluded.\nThe Educational Screen provides information on unobtainable films and is ready to offer patrons films on under-represented subjects using its large supplementary file. The classified subject index follows with general subject headings, and films' titles appear in bold type with the number of reels in parentheses and the distributor indicated.\nThe numbers at the extreme right of the last line of the description, in Roman or Arabic depending on the distributor's system, refer to the Reference List of Producers and Distributors on page 116 for Roman numbers and page 122 for Arabic numbers, where the exact address of each distributor is given.\n\nCross references at the end of many groups refer to other groups where one or more films on the same or related subjects may be found. The stars before a large number of the films listed indicate the following: one (*) means that the film has been seen by our staff; two ( ** ) that the film has been seen and reviewed in a previous issue of The Educational Screen; three (***) that The Educational Screen considers the film to be exceptionally fine of its kind.\nWe cannot name rental prices for films as they vary endlessly. The distributor of the particular film should be consulted. The Educational Screen Does Not Rent Films or Distribute any Visual Materials.\n\nReference List of Producers and Distributors\n\nIn this list, we have indicated as far as possible the distributors of \"free\" films \u2013 those to be had for the payment of transportation charges both ways, sometimes with further conditions stipulated by those owning the films.\n\nIn certain cases, distributors have indicated whether some or all of their film subjects were printed on non-flam (slow-burning) stock. If both \"flam\" and \"non-flam\" are named, users must ascertain from the distributor whether the particular film wanted can be secured on the stock desired.\n\nOff-Standard Films\n\nNo Safety Standard films (28 mm.) are listed in this book.\nthough much  fine  material  is  available  in  this  form.  As  it \nrequires  a  special  projector,  however,  such  listing  would  be  useless \nto  the  majority  of  our  readers. \nSome  film  libraries  are  also  available  in  18  mm.  and  11  mm.  sizes \nThese  also  require  special  projecting  apparatus,  and  no  effort  has \nbeen  made  to  list  the  films  of  such  libraries. \nUNIVERSITY  EXTENSION  SERVICE \nWE  HAVE  been  forced  to  exclude  a  very  important  source  of \nnon-theatrical  films,  the  State  Universities  and  Extension  Di- \nvisions, for  obvious  reasons.  These  excellent  services  are  entirely \nlocal,  as  a  rule,  and  gladly  give  full  information  to  all  film-users \nFourth  Edition \nADVERTISEMENT \nACME  MOTION \nPICTURE  PROJECTORS \nThe  Acme  S.  V.  E. \nis  Safe,  dependable \nand  easy  to  operate. \nDesigned  for  non-pro- \nfessional  operators. \nFOR  the  success- \nfuluseof  motion \npictures  it  is  abso- \nlutely necessary  to \nhave  a  thoroughly \nreliable  projector \nthat  can  always  be \ndepended  upon  to \nshow  clear,  bright \npictures  without \ndelay  or  interrup- \ntion. \nAcme  Motion  Pic- \nture Projectors  are \ndesigned  and  con- \nstructed to  do  this. \nThey  are  the  estab- \nlished projectors \nfor  non-profes- \nsional use. \nWrite  for  complete \ninformation. \nInternational  Projector  Corporation \nAcme  Division \n1132-1136  W.AUSTIN  AVENUE \nChicago,  Illinois \nFOREWORD \n2000  USED  PRINTS  OF  THE  BEST  BRAY  EDUCATIONAL \nSUBJECTS  TO  BE  SOLD  OUTRIGHT  AT  LOWEST  PRICES  j \nAstronomy,  agriculture,  biology,  civics,  chemistry,  domestic  science,  engineering, \ngeography,  geology,  hygiene,  nature  study  (bird,  animal  and  insect  life),  physics, \nphysiology,  general  science,  travel,  zoology,  etc;  animated  drawings,  cartoons, \nslow  motion  and  scenic  photography. \nOther  Bray  Features,    (for  sale  or  rental) \nScience  of  Life:    Educational,  health  and  hygiene  series,  pre-  | \nElements of the Automobile: A popular explanation of the automobile in animated drawings, prepared originally for the War Department; for automotive and technical schools.\n\nBray Nature Pictures: Marvelous studies of animal, bird and marine life, gathered from all quarters of the globe.\n\nThe Human Body: A five-reel physiological series by Dr. Jacob Sarnoff of Long Island Medical College. An analysis in animated drawings, diagrams, motion pictures of actual human dissection of the digestive tract, the heart in action, respiratory and circulatory systems and human development. Prepared by an educator for educational use. For sale or rental.\n\nFor prices and full information write at once to:\n\nBray Productions, Inc.\nEducational and Social Service\n729 Seventh Avenue, New York City.\nWithin their zone, such information is useless to the rest of the country and is therefore omitted here. You are likely familiar with the services of your nearest State University. If not, do not hesitate to write for their complete literature.\n\nYour CO operation, please!\n\nWe cannot hope to have avoided all errors in this work. The cooperation of all concerned is earnestly invited \u2013 producers, distributors, users everywhere. We shall welcome opinions, suggestions, and above all specific criticisms. Point out errors and omissions, great or small, whenever and wherever they appear. Preparation for the next edition of \"1000 and One\" has already begun. With the cooperation asked for above, the fifth edition can be brought many degrees nearer the desired goal of perfect accuracy. We thank you sincerely in advance.\n\nAnd above all!\nWhen writing to advertisers, please mention The Educational Screen.\n\nGroup No. Page No.\nAgriculture:\n4 Fruits and Nuts 12, \n5 Miscellaneous 12,\nLivestock:\n6 Cattle 13,\nMeat Products 14,\n8 Dairy Products 14,\n9 Poultry 15,\n10 Miscellaneous 15,\nPests and Dangers to Animals 16,\n13 Rural Life and Farm Engineering 17,\n14 Forestry and Forest Conservation 18,\n15 Soils and Soil Conservation 20,\n16 Irrigation 20,\nArt, Music and Architecture ... 20,\n18 Astronomy 21,\nAthletics and Sports (See Physiology, Health and Hygiene) 19,\n19 Biography 21,\n20 Chemistry 23,\n21 Civics and Patriotism 23,\n22 Domestic Science 24,\n23 Economics 25,\n24 Educational Activities ... 25,\nGeography:\nAfrica:\n25 Northern Africa 26,\n27 Central and South Africa 27,\nAsia:\n29 India and Ceylon 27,\n31 Palestine 28,\n33 Australasia 30,\nEurope:\n39 Britain and Ireland (Northern Europe)\n39 Switzerland (Central Europe)\nNorth America\n43 Polar Regions\n48 United States\n48 Central and South America\n55 Atlantic\n\nGeography:\n34 Britain and Ireland (Northern Europe)\n39 Switzerland (Central Europe)\nNorth America\n43 Polar Regions\n48 United States\n48 Central and South America\n55 Atlantic\n\nGeology and Meteorology . 44\nGovernment Activities 45\nHistorical Scenics 46\nHistorical Fiction . 47\nIndustry and Engineering\nElectricity\nTelephone and Telegraph 48\nGeneral Engineering 50\nEngineering Achievements 50\nMachinery and Mechanical Devices 51\nElectrical 51\nAutomotive Machinery 51\nMiscellaneous 52\nPower, Mechanical and Electrical 52\nNatural Products and Processes 52\nFishing Industry 52\nLumbering and Forest Products 53\nMining - Coal, Oil and Gas 54\nMining - Miscellaneous 56\nProducts and Processes, Industrial Arts, Natural Science\n76 Building Materials, 56\n77 Clothing, Textiles, and Leather, 57\n78 Food Products, 57\n79 Metal Manufacturing, 58\n80 Paper and Publications, 58\n81 Miscellaneous, 60\n83 Miscellaneous, 61\n84 Literature and Drama, 61\nPlant Life, Animal Life\n85 Plant Life, 63\n86 Domestic Animals, 66\n87 Wild Animals, 66\n88 Smaller Animals, 67\n89 Insects and Bugs, 67\n90 Microscopic Life, 68\nBird Life, \n91 Large Birds, 69\n92 Small Birds, 69\n93 General, 69\n94 Fish and Sea Life, 70\n95 Miscellaneous, 71\nPhysiology, Health and Hygiene\n97 Embryology, 72\n98 Anatomy and Structural Physiology, 72\n99 Eyes, Feet, Teeth, 73\n100 Child Hygiene, 73\n101 Personal Hygiene, 74\n104 Public Hygiene, 75\n105 Disease and Its Treatment, 76\n107 Accident Prevention, 76\n108 Fire Prevention, 77\n109 First Aid and Life Saving, 77\n[110] Medicine and Surgery, Athletics and Sports\n\n111 Boxing, Wrestling, Fencing\n\nFourth Edition\n\nADVERTISEMENT\n\nPower's Projectors for Professional Projection\nUsed By\nNational Academy of Science, Washington, D.C.\nYale University, New Haven, Conn.\nCass Technical High School, Detroit, Mich.\nAnd Thousands of Schools, Colleges, Churches and Public Institutions Throughout the United States.\n\nPower's Division\nINTERNATIONAL PROJECTOR CORPORATION\n90 Gold St. New York, N.Y.\n\nGroup No. Page No.\nPHYSIOLOGY, HEALTH AND HYGIENE\u2014 continued\nAthletics and Sports\u2014 continued\n\n112 Baseball, Football, Golf ' 78\n114 Track and Field 78\n115 Camping and Outdoor Sports 78\n116 Water Sports 79\n117 Winter Sports 79\n118 Animal Hunting 80\n119 Bird Hunting 80\n121 Miscellaneous 80\n122 Psychology 80\nSOCIology\n126 Social Organizations 82\n127 Insurance and Fraternal Orders 83\n130 Roads and Road Building, 84\n131 Railroads, 84\n133 Miscellaneous, 85\n134 War \u2014 Naval and Military, 86\nEntertainment, 90\n137 Religious, 90\nTheatrical Reviews, 95\nParent-Teacher and Film Council Recommendations, 110\nComedies, 113\nNews Reels, Weeklies, Novelty Subjects, 114\nProducers and Distributors with Exchanges, .116\nProducers and Distributors without Exchanges, .122\nBray Productions, 6\nDa-Lite Screen and Scenic Co, 31\nDeVry Corporation, 64-65\nEastman Kodak Co, Back Cover\nEdited Pictures System, 43\nGeneral Electric Co, 55\nHarcol Motion Picture Industries, 87\nInternational Projector Corp. (Acme Division), 5\nInternational Projector Corp. (Power's Division), 9\nInternational Projector Corp. (Simplex Division), 128\nNew York Times, 59\nPictorial Clubs, 91\nPinkney Film Service Co, 89\nGroup 1: CROPS, Cotton\nThe Story of Cotton (2): Its growth and manufacture.\nThe Land of Cotton (2): A complete story of cotton with emphasis on milling and weaving of cloth. (X)\nCotton: Dixie's Greatest Crop (1): Soil preparation, planting, cultivating, picking, delivery to gin. Boll weevil and other problems of modern production. (144)\nCotton: Planting and Cultivation (2): Methods of cotton growing.\nCotton: Ginning and Marketing (2): Various types of cotton and bales.\nCotton Handling (1): In the largest cotton warehouse in the world. (63)\n\nFourth Edition\nAgriculture\nCotton\nCo-operative Marketing: Cotton (2) Activities of the co-operative cotton marketing associations of the South, detailing the progress of the grower's bale from gin to mill or to seaboard for export shipment. (144)\n\nGroup 2: Sugar\nCane Sugar (1) Depicting the cultivation of cane and the extracting of sugar from the plant. (151)\n\nSugar Cane (1) A comprehensive study of the manufacture of sugar from planting of cane to finished product. For sale only. (58)\n\nSugar Cane and Cane Sugar (1) Culture and harvesting of sugar cane in the South; hauling cane to factory; various stages in manufacture and refinement of cane sugar from crushing of cane to finished product. (144)\n\nRaw Sugar Production in Cuba (1) Cultivation of cane and fine scenics in Cuba, the Island of Sugar (2) World's largest achievement in raising, producing, and processing sugar.\nsugar cane \u2014 forest transformed into modern plantation, largest sugar mill in world built and put into operation.\nSugar from planting in Cuba to preparation for market. Emphasis on refining processes. Splendidly adapted for classroom use. (9, 83)\n\nSunny South\nScenes in the South. Emphasis on manufacture of sugar from tree to sugar. (1) Interesting story of a product that makes a sweetmeat, and the necessary embellishment of the popular \"flapjack.\" For sale only. (58)\n\nMaking Maple Sugar\nFrom tapping trees to marketing \u2014 old-fashioned and modern methods. (1)\n\nBeets from Seed to Sugar Bowl\nSelf-explanatory. (144)\n\nThe Sugar Trail\nBeet sugar industry as developed from the wild beet. (X)\n\nGROUP 3\nWheat\n\nOur Daily Bread\nDevelopment of methods for harvesting, milling, processing, and baking. (1)\nThe Staff of Life: The logical and interesting tale of wheat growing, harvesting, threshing, and milling. (1, 42, 49, 111A, 151)\nThe Wheat Industry: Production of wheat in the Red River Valley - ploughing, drilling, harvesting, threshing, etc. (XII)\nThe Romance of a Grain of Wheat: Animation and photography showing wheat production. (64)\nWheat and Flour: A study of wheat raising from planting until flour is ready for mixing. For sale only. (58)\nHow California Harvests Wheat: Tractor harvesters at work in the San Joaquin Valley. A visit to Hopi House at the Grand Canyon. (67)\nWheat Harvest in the Pacific Northwest: Binding, heading, and threshing wheat or weeds. Story of wheat cleaning and the operation of wheat cleaning machines at the thresher; what clean wheat means to the consumer. (1)\nGROUP 3 (Continued) CROPS Wheat\n1. Wheat - Bulk Handling Method of shipping grain.\n2. Wheat - Sack Handling How it is done in the Pacific Northwest.\n3. Wheat Transportation and Storage Taking wheat from the northwest to Duluth, Buffalo, and Baltimore for shipment.\n4. Wheat Grading under Federal Supervision Methods and processes.\n\nGROUP 4 Fruits and Nuts\n*** The Kindly Fruits of the Earth (Survey of cultivation, picking, packing and shipment of some of the most important fruits.)\n** The Apple of New England (Cutting- and grafting wild apple to produce present fine varieties; picking and packing; making apple pies in Waldorf restaurants.)\nApples and Other Crops Processes from orchard to cannery.\n** The Banana (Detailed pictorial account of the methods employed in the cultivation, harvesting, and shipping of bananas.)\nFor sale: raising and marketing of bananas.\n\nIn Banana Land: Banana cultivation in Guatemala.\nWestern Cantaloupe Industry: Harvesting and marketing in the Imperial Valley, California.\nCitrus Fruit in Florida: Approved methods of grove management and handling orange and grapefruit crops; history of citrus fruits in America; scenes at piers and wholesale fruit exchanges in New York.\nThe Golden Gift: Colored pictures of the orange industry. (30, 42)\nThe Orange: Pictorial history of the orange tree, irrigation of groves, and harvesting the crop. In natural colors. (XX, IV)\nCitrus Fruits and Fruit Drops: The important part played by citrus fruits and sugar in the diet. Full of action (partly in color). (XXX, 83)\nOranges and Olives: Depicting modern methods of raising and harvesting.\nThe Story of the Orange: From cultivation in the beautiful groves of California, partly in natural color, to their arrival in the market. (XXX, 83)\nThe Power Behind the Orange: Modern power farming in the orange groves of Southern California. Story of orange cultivation and preparation. (XXX, 83)\nSunshine Gatherers: Southern California fruits in orchards near Monterey; processes of picking and canning which prepare them for market. Photographed in Prizma color. (IV)\nProfits from Cull Oranges and Lemons: Former great loss to citrus fruit industry from waste cull fruit; research work to develop uses for culls, establishment of by-product plants. (144)\nThe Romance of the Lemon: Various processes of caring for citrus fruit, irrigation, picking operations, preparing for market. (30)\n\nIf necessary, the text above can be condensed into:\n\nThe Story of Oranges and Lemons in Southern California: From cultivation and modern farming to picking, canning, and market preparation. (XXX, 117)\nCocoanuts and Copra: Most picturesque industry of the Philippines. Cracking cocoanuts and drying the meat. (67, 69)\n\nCranberries: Cranberry culture with particular reference to methods of preventing the rot that makes berries bitter; the Puritans receive the new berry from the Indians. (144)\n\nDates: America's New Fruit Crop. Growing by irrigation in the Southwest. Insect control. (144)\n\nThe Cultivation and Growth of Dates: Modern methods employed in the preparation of dates for the market. For sale only. (58)\n\nPicking Pineapples: Growing and marketing of pineapples. (69.156)\n\nOahu: The pineapple industry of this Hawaiian island. (1)\n\nStrawberries: From Seed to Shortcake. (144)\n\nThe Pecan: How the nut is grown, gathered and marketed. (XX)\nThe Ancient and Honorable Walnut (V2) California ranch dedicated to walnut growing on a large scale.\n\nGroup 5 Miscellaneous\nAmerica's Granary (1) Methods of planting, harvesting, and threshing grain. Evolution of farm machinery and methods of handling.\nAmerica \u2013 The Store House of the World (1) Our Land, the granary that assures the world against famine. I, 23, 69, 156\n\nFourth Edition\n\nAGRICULTURE\nGroup 5 (Continued) CROPS Miscellaneous\nUncle Sam, World Champion Farmer (1) Miscellaneous scenes of the crop, fruit, and livestock industries of the United States. This film includes cotton, wheat, corn, potatoes, apples, dates, citrus fruit, poultry, dairy and beef cattle, hogs, horses, mules, and sheep. 144\n\nRomance of Coffee (1) The cultivation, roasting and preparation of coffee from seed to cup. XXX\nCassina (1) Development of a new crop for Dixie; the cassina (yaupon) plant's growth and use in making a beverage. (14)\nCooperative Marketing \u2014 Tobacco (2) Methods used by cooperative marketing associations among tobacco growers in North Carolina, Virginia, and Kentucky. (144)\nThe How and Why of Spuds (1) Potato industry as practiced with modern farm machinery in Aroostook County, Maine. (144)\nPotatoes, Early and Late (1) Varieties and their characteristics. (144)\nPotato Industry in the California Delta Region (1) Record crops raised under particular conditions. (144)\n* Sweet Potatoes from Seed to Storage (1) Self-explanatory. (14)\n* Sweet Potatoes from Store House to Market (1) The title tells it. (144)\nEar Corn Silage (2) Practical and scientific facts relative to this new industry.\nThing in silage. How a successful farmer makes use of his experiment station. (69)\nFour Men and the Soy Cultivation and utilization of soy beans.\nFour farmers attend \"Soy Bean Day\" at the State College of Agriculture and see soy beans in all stages. (14, 4)\nWeeds as Food. Pictorial History of the tomato and other \"table Palms.\" (1)\nThe prolific plant that provides food, clothing, shelter, and income in the tropics. (I, 23)\nPeanuts. Story of raising and cultivating. (144)\nPeanuts. Showing cultivation, early and present uses as a food product. Partly in natural colors. Fine scenic views. (XXX, 83)\nRice from \"Paddy\" to Bowl. Handling the rice crop, with special reference to methods that tend to minimize damage and waste. Scenes photographed in the lower Mississippi valley. (144)\nThe Rice Industry: Irrigation, threshing, hulling and polishing. Interesting development of the American rice-growing industry and a discussion of the food value of rice. (6S)\n\nThe Story of Comet Rice: Oriental rice culture and cultivation of the grain in our Southern states. Preparing for market. (XXX)\n\nThe Rubber of Yesterday: Wild rubber in the Amazon jungles. Gashing, gathering and smoking the rubber over a fire of nut shells. Cultivated rubber plantations of Brazil. Transportation downstream. (59)\n\nThe Spice of Life: Preparation of tea, coffee, sugar, cocoa, salt and some spices. (XV)\n\nThe History of Spice: Important part played by spices in development of trade routes and discovery of new continents. Many scenes of foreign lands making twine to bind Uncle Sam's harvests (Manila and Sesal hemp). (1)\nManufactured into binder twine. Various processes depicted. (22)\nHandling and Storing Grain (2)\nReceiving various grains, storing and shipping, at the largest grain elevator in the world. (63)\n\nGroup 6 Livestock - Cattle\nCattle Ranch (1) Everyday life of the cowboy in his strenuous work of preparing cattle for the market. For sale only.\n\nThe Green Barrier (2)\nCattle grazing in the Piney Woods areas of the South. Emphasizing the evils of firing the woods to \"green up\" the pasture and stressing the importance of carpet grass and lespedeza as forage for the cattle and as fire barriers. (14, 4)\n\nSir Loin of T-Bone Ranch (3)\nWestern range-cattle industry, with special reference to methods that make for production of good beef. (144)\n\nA Tale of Two Bulls (1)\nAnimated cartoon, showing advantages of following practices of the Better Sires movement. (14, 4)\nThe Purple Ribbon: Life of a Grand Champion Steer, International Live Stock Show. (69)\nAgriculture, Group 7 Livestock, Meat Products\nBehind the Breakfast Plate: The story of the great American livestock industry, showing the ranges, feed lots, shipping, and packing. (69, 144)\n* The Honor of the Little Purple Stamp: Meat-inspection by Federal agents. (144)\n* Killing and Dressing Mutton for Home Use: Proper methods demonstrated. (144)\n* Lambs from Range to Market: Shows lambs separated from ewes at end of season and taken to feeding yards for fattening. Loading on trains for market. (144)\nMaking of a Star Ham: Deals with humane methods used in slaughtering, sanitary conditions prevailing in packing plants, and rigid inspection given each individual ham. (11, 127, 149)\nMeat \u2014 from Hoof to Market: liaising of beef cattle and hogs for food and shipping and marketing. (XV)\nMeat Packing: A complete story of the packing of meat from the time the animal leaves the plains till it has been prepared for the consumer. For sale only. (58)\nThe Meat We Eat: Raising cattle, sheep, and swine. The meat packing industry which turns them into food. (151)\nThe Texas Trail to Your Table: Raising cattle; transporting to Stock Yards and various methods used in preparing meat for the table. Guarding Livestock Health: Shows care of the animals in transit, in the stockyards, cleaning and fumigation of cars, etc. (144)\n\nGROUP 8 Dairy Products\nBetter Milk: Shows vast strides made in recent years by progressive farmers in the production of pure milk. (49, 151)\nBetter Way of Milking: How improper milking methods prevent the contamination of milk. (1)\n[14,149] Cow producing maximum milk.\n[127,149] A trip through a modern dairy.\n[1] Milk as Food: A visit to a model dairy showing methods of sanitation in handling and food value of milk. [58, 60]\n[1] Clean Milk: Some ways of meeting the problems of production of clean milk. [69]\n[1] Making Milk Safe: Showing how milk is tested to protect the public against impurity and adulteration. [XVI, 151]\n[1] The Might of Pure Milk: Precautions taken to deliver this most perfect food in its most perfect form. Food value of milk as compared with other foods. [103]\n[1] The Trump Card: The importance of pasteurization and how effectively it insures the safety of public health. [103]\n[1] Do You Remember? Old-fashioned Baltimore: Horse-cars, high-wheel bicycles and other old Baltimore scenes. Modern methods of milk production.\nMilk production. (XX1TI)\nGreat Dairy Sires and Their Daughters\nSome of the greatest dairy sires in America and their high-producing offspring. (14, 4)\n\nDairy Cattle: Types, Breeds, and Characteristics\nHolstein, Jersey, Guernsey, Ayrshire, and Brown Swiss \u2013 the characteristics of these respective types, their origin, and history of their introduction into the United States.\n\nDairy Cattle and Their Selection\nThe film shows clearly that physical conformation is a vital factor in milk production and shows just how constitution, feeding capacity, formation of milking organs, etc., affect production. (134)\n\nDairy Management\nPortrays the dairyman's life \u2013 feeding and milking cows; weighing milk; the milk station; the silo; the farm buildings; sanitary stables; water supply; machinery; importance of raising young stock. (134)\nDairy Tales (1) From pastures to the making of butter and cheese. (XVI, 151)\n\nDairy Products (1) Sources, handling and shipping of milk. Manufacture and packing of cheese and butter in large factories. (XV)\n\nMilk-Made Products (2) Laboratory and factory methods of making dairy products. (144)\n\nSwiss Cheese, Made in America (1) Self-explanatory. (144)\n\nFourth Edition\n\nAGRICULTURE\nGROUP 8 (Continued) LIVESTOCK Dairy Products\n\nConcerning Cheese (1) Manufacture of cheese. (IX)\n\nAmerican Roquefort Cheese (1) Methods developed by the Dairy Division of the Grove City (Pa.) creamery. (144)\n\nWeighed in the Balance (3) An argument for cow-testing work, by showing the evils of unsystematic dairy management and the improvement when implemented.\nFour Hundred Million Chickens: A bird's-eye view of the poultry industry of the United States, showing commercial, farm, and backyard chicken plants. The Last Word in Chickens: Poultry raising. Layers and Liars: The \"historic hen\" brings a new rug to Mrs. Little's home and unites two communities in a worthwhile work; culling and other good poultry practices as explained by extension workers; community canning of the culls (69, 144). Making Poultry Pay: The fundamentals of good poultry management, designed for the information of beginners in poultry keeping (144). Poultry Farming: Poultry farming on a large scale (151).\n\nBetter practices are adopted (14, 4).\n\nGroup 9 Poultry: Chicks - Activities at the Kerr Chickeries in New Jersey, showing incubators with a capacity of nearly a million eggs (XXV, XXX).\nPoultry Profit: A Scientific and Practical Handling of the Poultry Industry (1) Selecting a Laying Hen: Culling the flock. Physical characteristics by which the good egg producer can be recognized. (69, 144)\nThe Story of an Incubator: The manufacturer and use of incubators, including scenes of actual hatching. (149)\nUnscrambling Eggs: Methods employed by an egg producers' association\u2014gathering the eggs, packing in crates, shipping, checking and candling. (2)\nWhere Uncle Sam Raises Poultry: Methods of handling poultry at Department of Agriculture farm. (1)\nMiscellaneous (10)\nBees: How They Live and Work (1) How bees gather nectar and transform it into a valuable food, honey; apiary and bottling methods; queen bee.\nBee laying eggs, bees hatching, and other operations in the lives of these interesting insects. (144)\nBee Culture - Shows every phase of the industry: the apiary, standard hive, handling and care of bees, use of smoker, distinguishing characteristics of queen, drone and worker, various types of brood cells, laying eggs, grub development, mature bee, how to raise a queen, introduction of queen into hive, gathering honey, marketing product, wintering bees. (134)\nThe Honey Bee - A detailed study by means of animation and pictures of the habits and industry of the honey bee. (58, 63)\nHoney Makers - Life story of bees and their work, entertainingly told. Remarkable close-ups, and unusual views of the workers at their various tasks. (XV)\nKeeping Bees at Work - Approved methods of bee management: how to manage bees effectively. (1)\n[144] Control of diseases in beekeeping. Intended primarily for beekeepers.\n[1] Sheep in Psalm and Sage: Significance of sheep to man, economically and spiritually; great flocks in the West, shown for their scenic worth, and to give a general idea of the industry.\n[144] [1] Fleeced for Gold: Sheep raising industry on a big ranch in the Northwest, told in story form.\n[XV] The Golden Fleece: Lesson in clean handling of wool, grading and cooperative selling as factors in success.\n[144] [1] A Year with the Flock: Selection, winter management, docking, shearing, dipping in the spring. Summer pasture.\n[1*4] The Wooly West: Advantages of approved methods in range sheep management. Made in northwestern Wyoming in the fine scenery of the Shoshone National Forest.\n\nAGRICULTURE\nGROUP 10 (Continued)\nLIVESTOCK\nMiscellaneous\nBest breeds of swine, Health for pigs, National Swine Show, Breeding foxes in Canada, Views on California ostrich ranch, Alligators in their Florida \"farms\", Raising goats in New York State, How Uncle Sam provides summer range for millions of head of cattle and sheep by opening the grazing lands of the national forests to nearby ranchers, Control of Hog Cholera, Causes of hog cholera, the use of serum.\nmethods of handling livestock en route to market and the evil effects of mishandling. (69)\n\nLivestock Losses: Improper and proper methods of handling livestock en route to market and the evil effects of mishandling. (69)\n\nSuppressing Foot-and-Mouth Diseases: Prevalence of disease in many foreign countries; outbreaks of the malady in this country in 1914 and 1924; the radical but effective American method of control, and necessity of public cooperation. (144)\n\nHorn Flies, Pests of Cattle: How to prevent their breeding. (144)\n\nMaking the South Tick-Free: How ticks are being eradicated. (144)\n\nMollie of Pine Grove: Tick eradication in the South, told in story form. Better times for the community as a result. (144)\n\nThe Ox Warble: A Fifty-Million-Dollar Tune. Government \"bug man\" explains methods of controlling the ox warble, one of major pests attacking cattle. (1)\nAmerican dairy cattle (69,144) - Clean Herds & Hearts (4) Sequel to \"Out of the Shadows\"\nPicturing a community campaign for the eradication of animal tuberculosis; its relation to human health; economic losses due to the disease. (69, \u00ab144)\n\nPoultry Pests and Their Control (1)\nMites, fowl ticks, chiggers, and poultry lice; methods for their control. (69,144)\n\nGROUP 12 to Plants\nThe Barbarous Barberry (1)\nAn animated cartoon. Common barberry causes wheat rust. Science magnifies the rust germs and explains cause and effect. (144)\n\nBeans or Beetles? (1)\nThe importance of the bean crop; menace of the Mexican bean beetle; methods of controlling damage by this insect. (144)\n\nBlister Rust - A Menace to Western Timber (2)\nSpread of white pine blister rust from Europe to eastern United States; its recent appearance in western forests. (69,144)\nBritish Columbia: Danger from white pine blister rust to five-needled pines in the western United States. (144)\n\nThe Pines: Control of white pine blister rust on a particular farm in New England; protecting and making pines a valuable crop. (144)\n\nBoard Feet or Bored Timber: Story of the wormhole borer, pinhole borer, and numerous other insects that attack green logs and cured lumber; their habits and methods of controlling them.\n\nChinch Bugs: Life history and habits; methods of fighting the menace to crops. (69)\n\nCorn Borer: Control in the Corn Belt; protecting America's greatest crop from the European corn borer. Recommended methods for its control; life history of the insect. (144)\n\nAn Undesirable Alien \u2014 Corn Borer: How it became established in the United States. (1)\nEngland and the fight to control it: scenes of damage to corn and truck crops in Massachusetts. (69,144)\n\nFourth Edition, Agriculture CROP 12 (Continued) PESTS AND DANGERS to Plants\n\nFighting Insects from Airplanes: Result of successful tests made in cooperation with the Army Air Service in applying poison dust for control of cotton insects, particularly the boll weevil, and for the control of malarial mosquitoes. (144)\n\nCotton's Worst Enemy: Clean-up of infected land; sweeping of fields and burning of plants, fumigation of imported cotton. (144)\n\nFighting Insects: Result of successful tests in applying poison dust from airplanes for control of cotton insects, especially the boll weevil, and for the control of malarial mosquitoes. (144)\n\nDangerous Invaders: How the gypsy and brown-tail moths gained a foothold in New England; their damage to trees; fight to control them. (144)\n\nDust Explosions in Threshing Machines: Some causes, results, and means of prevention. (144)\nExplosive Dusts: causes, results, and means of preventing grain-dust explosions in mills and elevators.\n\nFighting Western Pine Beetles: how beetles destroy timber; measures for their control.\n\nHalting Foreign Plant Foes: administration of the plant quarantine act by the Federal Horticultural Board, to keep out new plant pests and diseases.\n\nHoppers: approved methods of grasshopper control, featuring life history and the poison bait method.\n\nHidden Foes in Seed Potatoes: wisdom of selecting seed potatoes; experiences on the potato tour, with close-ups of some degeneration diseases of * Leak Disease of Potatoes: cause and prevention; microscopic views of the disease.\n\nLast Days of the Prairie Dog: the prairie dog in Arizona, the damage he does to farming, and the work of the Biological Survey toward its control.\nextermination of the pest (144)\nMethods of saving lawns from damage caused by Lumbricus (1)\nA Plant Disease and How It Spreads (144) - Study of rhubarb blight.\nPoison (1) Various insects and pests that attack plants and animals; how sprays, dusts, etc., are used to repel them; danger of using harmful preparations (144)\nSafeguarding the Citrus Fruit (1) Fumigation of citrus fruit trees (144)\nOur Animal Friends and Foes (y2) Advocates for preservation of bird life as remedy for great annual loss in crops destroyed by animal and insects\nThe Farmers' Allies and Pests (1) \"Who's Who\" among destructive and helpful insects (XVI,151)\nRural Life and Farm Engineering\nGroup 13 Rural Life and Farm Engineering\nThe Answer (8) The answer to the question, \"What Does the Farm Bureau Mean to Me?\" graphically told (XXIII)\n[Back to the Land: The advent of the farmerette. \"Better Seed \u2014 Better Crops\": The story of \"Certified Seed\" and how the crop improvement association strives to increase production by growing and distributing pedigreed seed. \"Bill Jones, Champion\": Returns to Shady Valley from the interstate club champions' camp at Sioux City, Iowa, and tells his chum all about it. \"Recreational side of boys' and girls' club-champions' encampment\". \"Birds of a Feather\": Advantages of poultry standardization as exemplified by the experience of Jim Buck and his neighbors. \"Bob Farnum's Ton Litter\": Bob Farnum joins the Ton-Litter Club and produces 2,000 pounds of hogs from one litter of pigs in six months; the obstacles, how they were met, and some of the essentials in the hog business.]\nThe Brown Mouse (6) - Herbert's story on the screen: lessons of soil, fruits, crops, livestock, and dairying from experimental work at State Colleges.\n\nConstruction of a Concrete Silo (1) - Practicability of building and constructing steps.\n\nConstruction of a Wooden Hoop Silo (1) - Building steps from foundation to roof.\n\nA Crop Worth Saving (4) - Organization of Four-H clubs and their activities in a boys' and girls' club picture.\n\nAGRICULTURE\n\nGROUP 13 (Continued) - Rural Life and Farm Engineering\n\nDynamite: The Modern Ditch Digger (1) - Blasting ditches for drainage and sanitary purposes.\nThe Farm: What electricity can do in making farm labor less arduous (153)\nFarm Progress: Fordson methods of diversified agriculture in contrast to the old-fashioned (58)\nForward Farm Bureau: Picturing successful farm bureau work and state and national agricultural activities (69)\nThe 4-H Camp for Boys and Girls: Work and play at one of the camps where club boys and girls learn better farming and home work, and the meaning of 4-H - head, heart, hand, and health development (14, 4)\nFrom Forests to Farms: Clearing of cut-over areas in northwestern states. Use of dynamite for stumping and drainage work (46)\nThe Go-Getter: Human drama of regeneration of antiquated farm through installation of electrical labor-saving devices (XXX, 154)\nThe Happier Way: Shows how the women of Pleasant View got in (1)\nTouch with labor-saving devices for household use. (69,144)\nThe High Road (3) Transformation of a little town to health and happiness. (XXXI)\n\n* The Home Demonstration Agent (3) Her work and its effects. Demonstration of home conveniences. & Story Form. (14, 4)\nThe Homestead (3) Better farm management (69)\n\nIn the Wake of the Storm (1) A picture story of how modern equipment brought first aid to a storm-swept area. (72)\nThe Land of Promise (1) Showing McCormick-Deering farm machine doing general farm work in Canada. (72)\nA Letter to Dad (1) William Jones, club champion, writes home from interstate (dub champions camp at Sioux City, Iowa), and tells him many things he has learned. (144)\nNature Lovers' Rambles (1) Fifty aspects of refreshing farm life. (111A)\nOn the Farm Where the Food Comes From (1) Wisconsin farm life and experiences. (1)\nindustries: Automatic milkers; hay, potatoes; hogs. (67)\nOur Farm Bureau: Its value in rural life. (69)\nPatriotic Pigs: Organization under the county agent helped produce and send in one train-load worth $100,000 of pigs to St. Louis market; ten percent of proceeds donated to the Red Cross; a lesson in cooperation.\nPoor Mrs. Jones: The vicissitudes of a farm woman who seeks a rest by visiting her sister in the cits*, who lives in a two-room-and-kitchenette flat. Lesson in appreciation of the advantages of country life. (144)\nThe Power Farmer: Points out the innumerable ways in which modern power machinery saves labor for the farmer. (XXX, 7 2)\nRed Wing Experimental Electric Line: Before and after the farmer uses electricity and how electricity can be used on the farm. (109)\nThe Short Course: Routine work of boys' and girls' clubs in annual Short Course at Baton Rouge; activities of a thousand boys and girls from all parts of Louisiana. (14, 4) Times Do Change: Visualizes the distinct advantages of cooperative organizations in rural life. (XXIII) Turn on the Water! The danger of impure water on the farm; good and bad water supply systems, with examples of both kinds; how to install inexpensive systems. (144) Uncovering Earth's Riches: A spectacular picture-story of clearing virgin soil with McCormick-Deering tractors. (72) The Yoke of the Past: Pictorial record of a century of progress in agriculture. Implements of the past contrasted with modern machinery. (X) Forestry and Forest Conservation Group 14 Forestry and Forest Conservation ***The Cost of Carelessness: Lesson to campers. Prevent devastating fires.\nForest fires. I 21 j\n\nDeforestation and Reforestation\nA forest fire burning off thousands of acres of timber calls attention to the necessity for reforestation. Planting and cultivation of young trees for waste lands.\n\nThe Fire Fighting Forest Rangers\nReal western heroes and heroines at work. Glimpses of Navajo and Hopi Indian life.\n\nFourth Edition\nUnited Cinema Company (Incorporated)\nForeign and Domestic Distributors of\nMotion Picture Films, Projectors and Accessories\nChurch, School, Home, Club, etc.\nGRAPHOSCOPE and CELLO PROJECTORS\n120 West 41st Street New York, N. Y.\n\nGroup 14 (Continued) Forestry and Forest Conservation\nFire \u2014 The Prairie Demon\nCommon menace to the early settlers of the great \"open spaces\" of the West; scenes showing the attending damages and dangers.\n\nFire - The Prairie Demon (144)\nA common menace to the early settlers of the vast \"open spaces\" of the West, fire scenes depicting the resulting damages and dangers.\nThe Fiery Lance: Auto tours and detours through national forests; across the Continental Divide over Cochetopa Pass Road; enjoying the scenic views until a forest fire is discovered. Forests Green or Forests Gray: Uses of national forests, particularly the recreational uses; how campers, trampers, and tourists can protect them from fire. Foresting the Sandhills: Transformation of the sandhills region of Nebraska into a thriving young forest; all the operations involved in bringing a \"man-made forest\" into being. The Forest Ranger's Job: What makes a day's work for the guardian of the forest. Forest Resources: One of the series \u2014 The United States, a Ten Talent Nation. Future Forest Giants: Reforestation on the National Forests. Good Turns for Our Forests: How the Boy Scouts of America are contributing.\ndoing  their  bit  for  the  cause  of  forest  conservation  through  an  organized \ncampaign  to  assist  in  preventing  forest  fires.  (144) \nPines  for  Profit  (1)  Reforestation  in  the  Coastal  Plain  areas  of  the \nSoutheastern  States.  What  kind  of  lands  to  devote  to  tree  growing,  how \nto  get  seed,  nursery  practices  and  the  planting  of  young  trees.  (144) \nPines  That  Come  Back  (1)  How  timber  will  give  a  profitable  return  on \nfarm  lands  not  suitable  for  field  crops;  good  forestry  practices;  and  uses  of \ntimber.  (144) \nRed  Enemy  (2)  The  story  of  a  tree  which  had  stood  the  test  of  time, \nand  was  finally  destroyed  by  Red  Enemy,  caused  by  a  careless  rancher;  a \ncamping  party  trapped  in  the  burning  forest  and  their  escape;  industries \ndepending  on  our  national  forests.  (144) \nTrees  of  Righteousness  (3)  To  be  used  in  abating  the  evil  of  \"woods \nBurning, particularly in the Ozark region, a mountain preacher convinced his flock that \"woods burning\" ruins pasture and eventually destroys the forest. (144)\nTrees of Tomorrow, Problem of preventing an agricultural and industrial depression due to an inevitable timber famine. (144)\nWhat the Forest Means to You, Designed to set forth the dependence of mankind upon the forest and the evils that follow in the wake of total destruction of forest cover. (144)\n** White Pine \u2014 A Paying Crop for Idle Lands, Reforestation of cut-over lands with white pine, field planting and nursery practice. (144)\n* What a Careless Hunter in the Woods Can Do, Devastating results of carelessness in handling matches and fire. (144)\n* Winged Guardians of the Forest, Use of airplanes in guarding against forest fires. (144)\nAgriculture\nSOILS AND SOIL CONSERVATION.\nGroup 15: Soils and Soil Conservation, America - The Protected Soil\n\nThe conservation of natural ancestry and classification of soil, one of the series - The United States, a Ten Talent Nation.\n\nAnchored Acres: Soil erosion damage and approved modern engineering practices for overcoming this evil. Brush and soil saving dams, terracing, and crop rotation.\n\nLimestone for Ailing Clover: A county agent gives soil the \"acid\" test, finds it \"sour,\" and prescribes limestone; a practical demonstration of the use of limestone in the midwest.\n\nPay Dirt: An argument for judicious use of fertilizers in keeping fine soils up to their maximum yield.\n\nSoil Conservation: One of the series - The United States, a Ten Talent Nation. (See also Groups 48-9)\n\nGroup 16: Irrigation.\nFrom a wilderness to 60,000 acres of oats, wheat, barley, alfalfa, beets, potatoes: a decade of crops and kilowatts. Water power and irrigation uses of the water conserved in the national forests. A visual story of the results of irrigation on arid wastes. For sale only. Making the Desert Blossom. Describing the operations of the Bureau of Reclamation in irrigating arid lands in the West. The need for irrigation in our arid West; the areas reclaimed by various private and public enterprises; the methods the farmer employs to irrigate his fields; some of the great dams and reservoirs. Through Shoshone Valley. Greatest irrigation plant in the world. (See also Groups 48-9)\n\nArt, Music and Architecture\nGROUP 17\nThe Bashful Suitor (2) Triart Series. From Joseph Israels' masterpiece. Exceptional film.\nThe Bashful Suitor (2) - Triart Series: A film based on Joseph Israels' masterpiece. Exceptional.\n\nBeethoven's Moonlight Sonata (1)\nThe story of the little blind girl and how Beethoven came to compose his sonata, told in picture form with Prisma color. (IV, XX, 56)\n\nBeethoven's Moonlight Sonata - A film about the little blind girl who inspired Beethoven to compose his famous sonata, using Prisma color. (IV, XX, 56)\n\nThe Beggar Maid (2) Triart Series. Based on the painting by Sir Edward Burne-Jones, illustrating Tennyson's poem. (42)\n\nThe Beggar Maid - Triart Series: A film based on Sir Edward Burne-Jones' painting, which illustrates Tennyson's poem. (42)\n\nThe Etcher and His Art (1/4)\nA complete demonstration of how etchings are made. Evolution of a Poster (4) Art of lithography shown in various processes.\n\nThe Etcher and His Art, Part 1-4: A comprehensive demonstration of the etching process and the evolution of lithography in creating posters.\n\nFamous Music Masters Series (12 reels)\nEach reel an incident from the life of a great composer. (57)\n\nFamous Music Masters Series - 12-part series: Each part tells a story from the life of a renowned composer. (57)\n\nHope (2) Triart Series. The artist tells the story which inspired the painting. (42)\n\nHope - Triart Series: The artist shares the story behind the painting that inspired this production. (42)\n\nIn a Sculptor's Studio (%)\nHow a sculptor works from first sketch to finished marble. (22)\n\nIn a Sculptor's Studio: A look into the process of creating a sculpture, from initial sketch to finished marble. (22)\n[The Life of Christ - A tabloid presentation in colored master paintings of the life of Christ. (XXI)\nRembrandt - Story of the romantic life of the great painter from youth to pitiful old age. Music setting by Alexander Savini. (XVI)\nThe Song of the Lark - On the painting of the same title. The lark's song symbolic of the girl's own freedom, threatened by her domineering Buttor. (XV)\nTemples and Palaces of India - Tells the history of the people from India's architecture. (151, 111A)\nWindows of Art - Development of stained-glass window. (22)\nWith Pencil, Brush, and Chisel - Emil Fuchs as painter, sculptor, and etcher. Excellent art study, both entertaining and instructive. (IX)\nThe Young Painter - Triart Series. Story of a young artist who greatly admired Rembrandt. (42)\nFourth Edition\n\nAstronomy\nAstronomy\nGroup 18 Astronomy]\nCharting the Skies: Scenes at Aerological Station, U.S. Weather Bureau, Drexel, Nev., demonstrating how large kites are used for ascertaining atmospheric conditions. (22)\n\nComets: Formation and behavior. Indicated course of Halley's comet. (22, 112)\n\nDays and Nights: Causes clearly defined. (71)\n\nThe Earth and Worlds Beyond: Cycles of day and night and seasons. Explanation of how the earth's and moon's movements cause these phenomena. Views of the sun, stars, and planets, taken through the largest telescope in existence. (XXI, 134)\n\nEclipse of the Sun: Cause and animated technical drawings. (y2)\n\nIf We Living on the Moon: Technical drawings and actual lunar photography depict conditions as scientists believe them to be on the Moon's surface \u2013 Eclipse of the Sun \u2013 U.S. Weather Bureau. Filmed at Mt. Wilson. (1)\nObservatory:\nPark's Popular Science Series:\nThe Eternal Question: Solar system in pictorial explanation. (XI)\n- The Mystery of Space, No. 1: Comprehensive view of the Solar System in motion with Mercury, Venus, Earth, etc. and their satellites. (XI)\n- The Mystery of Space, No. 2: Full view of Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune in motion with their satellites. (XI)\nEarth and Moon:\n- No. 1: Phenomena connected with the Earth and Moon, including a visit to the Moon. (XI)\n- No. 2: Different phases of the Moon, eclipses of Sun and Moon with causes. (XI)\nGod Divideth the Night from the Day: (1) Why we have day and night. (XI)\nTime: (1) Clear idea of what time really is. Sun time, lunar time, long and short days and nights. (XI)\nThe Story of the Seasons: (1) Impressive and beautiful exposition of the seasons. (XI)\nThe Solar System: Seasons and why they change. (XI)\n1. The Solar System: The comparative sizes of the planets in the solar system and their distances from the sun. Relation of the moon to the earth.\nTides and the Moon: The moon's effect on the sea, the influence on tides, etc. Technical drawings and actual photography. (22)\n1. Zones: Reasons for establishment of the tropics of Cancer and Capricorn, and boundary lines of various zones indicated. (71) (See also Group 57)\n\nBiography\nGroup 19: Biography\nAmerican Statesman Series (1 reel each)\nProduced by Urban.\nBiographical studies of:\n1. Benjamin Franklin: Following his story from boyhood to his life in the city of Philadelphia, whose institutions he helped to establish. Well worth showing. (49, 151)\n2. Alexander Hamilton: Well-known incidents in the life of Hamilton,\nThomas Jefferson: Life of Thomas Jefferson, leader of Democracy. (49, 151)\nAbraham Lincoln: Summarizing life and career of Lincoln. (49, 151)\nGeorge Washington: Life of George Washington, who sacrificed wealth, social position, and home to become the leader of a great ideal. (49, 151)\nDaniel Webster: Life of America's greatest orator. (49, 151)\nLuther Burbank: A visit to the famous naturalist's gardens, including an experiment in crossing of plants. For sale only. (58)\nA Day with John Burroughs: The great naturalist shows two children the wonders of nature about his home in Ulster County, New York. (1)\nBiography\nCroup 19 (Continued)\nBiography\nOver the Hills to Plymouth: President Coolidge. (XXX)\n[Thomas A. Edison's Life: His visit to General Electric Laboratory. Methods of making the incandescent lamp.\nHeart of a Hero: An impressive visualization of Nathan Deliverance's life.\nAbraham Lincoln: Finest delineation of the real Lincoln (George Billings in part).\nAbraham Lincoln: Frank McGlynn in episodes from Lincoln's life.\nLife of Lincoln: His boyhood struggles, taking up the profession of law, political career, in the White House, and his death.]\nBenjamin Chapin produced this, with him enacting the Lincoln role. The gentle influence, the loving companionship of Nancy - this is about my Mother. The vital importance of an education is shown in the chapter about my Father. The Call to Arms: this chapter displays the Lincoln family in the White House, with significant treatment of Lincoln's struggle when confronted with a cry. My First Jury: here, a little colored boy, accused, is defended. Tender Memories: seeing a soldier's grave brings tender memories of my beloved mother's grave. A President's Answer: Lincoln's fatherly heart is revealed as he constantly grants pardons. Native State: this tells the story of President Lincoln and Daniel Boone's grandson. Under the Stars: Lincoln's love for his native state, which ultimately decided the wavering legislature, presents before us the great Emancipator. (I, 23, 42, 69, 156)\n[The Slave Auction (2) The incident of the auction block and Lincoln's vow. Its fulfillment. (42)\nDown the River (2) Contest with a slave-stealing gang on the Mississippi. The Highest Law (4) Civil War story. Struggling with a National crisis, \"Honest Abe\" yet finds time to save a stricken family. (23, 69, 156)\nThe Land of Opportunity (2) A moving incident in Lincoln's life.\nRalph Ince is seen as \"Honest Abe\" running for Congress. (I, 23, 69, 156)\nPasteur (2) Life and work of the great scientist reduced to 2 reels from the 6 reel production by the French government for the Pasteur centenary.\nThe Real Roosevelt (2) Scenes from his life. Roosevelt in action.\nIn Roosevelt Land (2) Brief film biography. (112)\nMemorializing Roosevelt (2) Title tells it. (XXX)\nOur Heritage of Faith (5) Thrilling story of the heroic life of the great hero]\nXVI. American Missionary, Marcus Whitman - Shows the birthplace and ancestral homes of Washington's forefathers in England. Includes views of Mt. Vernon and the ancestral homes of the Benjamin Franklin family.\n\nXVII. Cradle of Washington - Shows the birthplace and ancestral homes of Washington's forefathers in England. American pictures include views of Mt. Vernon and the ancestral homes of the Benjamin Franklin family.\n\nHave you sent in your subscription to The Educational Screen?\nFourth Edition\n\nChemistry:\nGroup 20 Chemistry\n\n1. Beyond the Microscope: Decomposition of water into its two gases; how the gases burn and assist combustion. How molecules act in heat and cold.\n2. Chemical Inspirations: Photomicroscopy of chemicals and animated drawings produce novel effects.\n3. The Chemistry of Combustion: Numerous experiments in combustion.\n4. Crystals and Their Beauties: Microscopic formations of various crystals by chemical and electrical means.\nExperiments with Sulphur (XVI, 151) The Flame of Life (Xxi) Food (Xxi) Oxygen the Wonder Worker (XXX, 1, 142) Science at Home (151) The Story of the Lucifer Match (Xvi, 151) Civics and Patriotism\n\nGroup 21\nCivics and Patriotism\nAmerica Junior (134)\nA beautifully photographed and dramatic story about the history of fire lighters and the modern process of making matches. (Xvi, 151)\n\nExperiments with Sulphur, The Flame of Life, Food, Oxygen the Wonder Worker, and Science at Home are titles of separate texts. (Xvi, 151, XXI, XXI, XXX, 1, 142, 151)\n\nAmerica Junior is a story-picture about the history of fire lighters and the modern process of making matches. (134)\nAmerica\u2014The Mouthpiece of Freedom: Genius of the people who have become the custodian of freedom possible only in a Christian civilization. (1) A Citizen and His Government: A splendid introduction to the study of Civics in story form. The film visualizes the many services our government performs for every citizen. A subtle lesson in Americanism. (42, 134) Father Knickerbocker's Children: Lives of children in New York City, from every race and land. (134) Glorifying Old Glory: Shows authentic manner of displaying the flag. Brief history of the flag and illustrations of flag code. (42) Growth of Cities and Their Problems: Common problems attending the growth of communities from small towns to thriving cities, and solutions. *** \"Hats Off\"! A Story of the Flag: Review of the past history of the flag. (1)\nA lesson in flag etiquette. (42, 1S4)\nHearts of Men by George Beban, the story of an Italian immigrant's struggle for success in this country. (56)\nHow to Beautify Your Community: Transformation of \"Slidertown\" to South Park in Dayton, Ohio. Other parts of the city follow up the good work. Practical steps for any community. (99)\nImmigration\nThe people who come to the United States; how they enter, what they do and the kind of citizens they make. (XXI)\nImmigration to the United States: The important \"waves\" of immigration and the causes behind each. European background of the immigrant. Contributions immigrants have made to the foundation and development of U.S. (134)\nThe Making of an American: Educating our foreign-born population in the spirit of American institutions. (1)\nOld Glory: The \"story of the starry banner of our country\" done in dignified and beautiful fashion. Scenes in Prizma color, supplemented by pastel paintings. (IV, XX, 56, 156)\n\nOur Most Glorious Fourth: July 4, 1919; celebrating the close of the war and the end of the armistice. Reproductions of our constitution and of flags that preceded our present emblem. (I)\n\nPeter Points the Way: Americanization film. (XXX)\n\nThe Story of the Star-Spangled Banner: Shows history and circumstances under which Francis Scott Key wrote the song. (XVI)\n\nYanks: A human study in Americanization. (I, 23)\n\nDomestic Science\nDomestic Science\nGroup 22: Domestic Science\n\nFamiliar Foods from Foreign Lands: Interesting \"life history\" of every day foods that come to us from the far ends of the earth. (I, 23, 69, 156)\nThe A. B. C. of Fish Cookery (1) Self-explanatory.\nA Lesson in Cooking - How to Make an Omelette (1) Use of the chafing dish. Now being used in city schools of New York and Los Angeles.\nMovie Cook Book, Part 1 (1) Uses for vegetables and recipes for pastry. Hints to Housewives (7 ^4 -reel subjects)\nButter Substitutes (*4) How fat drippings may be clarified and utilized in cooking. (22)\nEgg Preservation (*4) Shows how a solution of waterglass will preserve eggs for six months. (22)\nFireless Cooker (V\u00b1) Demonstration of principles and how to make a simple one at home. (22)\nThe Food Value of Milk (V4) Preparation of dishes having milk as their base.\nIceleess Refrigerator (%) Demonstration of how refrigeration can be accomplished without ice. (22)\nMeatless Meat Loaf (1/4) How to make a nourishing and appetizing substitute for meat. (22)\nSoap Making: How to Use Fat Drippings. Flour from Potatoes: Home Method of Making Potato Flour. Baking Better Bread: Educating young girls and housewives to make better bread. The Staff of Life: History of bread baking: by primitive methods in colonial kitchen; process in modern bakery. The Talk of the Town: Advertising Town Talk Bread and showing processes of bread-making employed in a modern bakery. American Home Canning in France: Demonstration of American home-canning methods given at agricultural college, Grignon, France, by specialists from the Department of Agriculture. Canning Time in California: Cutting, canning, cooking and shipping peaches. The Modern Conservation of Fruits and Vegetables: Dehydration of fruits and vegetables. The Magic Jar: Canning methods.\nLatest findings in Canning Extension work of Cornell University reveal farmer's wife using scientific methods. (22)\n\nDrying Fruits and Vegetables in the Home: Types of driers, methods of drying, packing, conditioning, and labeling vegetables. (144)\n\nGeneral Germ's Waterloo: A Comedy describing how germs attacking preserves were defeated by good rubbers. (XXX)\n\nLessons in Carving: Chef demonstrates each operation in the art of carving. (4)\n\nThe Duck, The Ham, The Roast Beef, The Turkey: Instructions for preparing these dishes. (4 *4)\n\nThe Secret of Costume Design: Demonstrates how women can design beautiful clothes. Animated diagrams and natural color photography give examples. (XVII)\n\nA Matter of Form: Home demonstration agent helps women of Pleasant View Community do their own sewing; the making of dress forms. (144)\nClothes and the Girl: How the sewing machine solves this problem.\nThe Consolation Club: Outgrown household appliances from former days now superseded by modern electrical appliances.\nTo Market, to Market: Types of Public markets in United States, and how the housewife economizes by using them. (pages 112, 144)\nDon't Cheat Yourself: Department of Weights and Measures give practical demonstration for housewife of methods employed by unscrupulous merchants. (page 22)\nMrs. Brown Versus the High Cost of Living: How one woman made her household budget cover every day's requirements. Briskly and humorously told. Suggestions regarding food selection and preparation. (page 134)\nStreet and Table Manners: Proper behavior on the street and at the Social Etiquette: The proper behavior in a public ballroom. Fourth Edition.\nEconomics: Economics.\nGroup 23: Economics, \"Checkmated\" (2): Protection of money from early coins to present day, including bank checks. Consists largely of animated cartoon. Closes with cartoon on Thrift.\n\n\"The Federal Reserve System\" (1): Animated drawings and motion pictures, partially colored, illustrate functions and operations of the Federal Reserve Banks.\n\n\"Men and Management\" (3): The principles of visual instruction as applied to the elimination of waste in industry.\n\n\"Modern Banking\" (1): Daily routine of bank business. Excellent for its exposure of bank usage. Good for class study of the subject.\n\n\"Money Talks\" (1): Tells the story of a mortgage and of Prudence.\n\n\"A Trip to Wall Street\" (2): A day's work in the world's greatest financial market. The New York Stock Exchange.\n\n\"Under the Spreading Buttonwood Tree\" (1): Historical sketch of the New York Stock Exchange.\nYork Stock Exchange and its workings (153)\nUse of Capital in Primitive and Modern Days - Logging (1) What capital has wrought in the lumber industry. (I)\nWaste Can't Win (4) The things that hold back production in a factory and how to eliminate them. (99)\n\nEducational Activities\nGroup 24 Educational Activities\nA Cathedral of Learning (1) Money-raising film showing needs and plan for a new building for the University of Pittsburgh. (150)\nChalk Marks (7) Romance showing what the American school teacher has contributed to the making of the Nation. (19)\nCorrect Position and Movement for Writing (1) Principles of arm movement. Captions in script. (XXV)\nDemocracy in Education (1) A story of the foundation upon which our national government is based \u2013 educating its future citizens. For sale only.\nDown in Lonesome Hollow (1) Struggle of two youths of the foothill district of Kentucky for an education at Berea College; their return to their rural district to improve conditions. (134)\nFilipino School Days (1) Activities at a school in Baliuag. (67)\nhrom Jacques to Johnnie (1) Letter from a French child to the school children of America. Describes the home and school life of French children, agricultural methods, equipment and some of the customs of the people of France. (134)\nGolden Schooldays (2) A rural story, concerning a boy who found little to interest him in the antiquated, one-room, country school; awakened interest as a pupil of the new consolidated school. (69)\nHeads Win (3) The value of special training and how it is made available for progressive people. (XXXX I)\nHelping the Deaf to Hear (*4) Scenes at Fanwood Institute. (22)\nA Machine that Thinks (22) Graphic history of bookkeeping, particularly a demonstration of modern adding machine.\n\nMusko and Musume of Nippon (1) Meaning \"Boys and girls of Japan.\" Quaintly costumed kiddies of the Tokyo public schools. Physical training at open air schools on the island of Matsushima.\n\nOriental College Boys and Co-eds (1) College life in Manila. Sports, arts and crafts.\n\nOrigin and Development of Handwriting (1) Self-explanatory.\n\nSchool Days (1) How the consolidated school and the motor bus have made it possible for the child in the rural sections to enjoy every educational advantage of the city youth.\n\nSchool Police System (1) Emphasizing safety for school children. Very fine for any school to run.\n\nSchooling the Senses (1) New method of school instruction.\nThe Spirit of Lincoln (3) Shows work done in Lincoln Memorial University at Harrogate, TN. Picture of life and struggles of mountaineers \u2014 efforts to educate these people. (XV)\n\nEducational Activities\nGROUP 24 ('Continued) Educational Activities\nTwenty Centuries of Shorthand (1) From the days of picture writing to its use in modern business. Some famous Americans who used shorthand and championed speed writers at work. (XXX)\n\n* The University of the Night (2) Presents in animated cartoon the need for and value of home-study and shows the scope and influence of the work of the greatest correspondence schools. (21)\n\nVocational Training for Blind Soldiers (1) Teaching trades to the sightless at \"Evergreen,\" Baltimore, MD. Red Cross film. (134)\n\nGEOGRAPHY\nGROUP 25 AFRICA\nNorthern Africa\n***Ageria, the Ancient (1) Arabs of the Sahara living as they did centuries ago\nThe new and old cities of Algiers, Timgad, El Digem, and Carthage in Ancient Rome in Africa, Biskra - the Beautiful Oasis, children of the Sahara, and The City of Algiers. Scenes of camel trains, herding of caravans, evening prayer in the Garden of Allah, and dancing girls of a famous tribe in Algeria. Prizma color photography.\n\nOases and village life, making sun-dried brick. Algerian Contrasts: Ancient Rome in Africa - glimpses of the ruined cities; Biskra - a beauty spot in the Algerian Sahara; Children of the Sahara - scenes of camel trains and evening prayer; The City of Algiers - its varied aspects of new and old. Danse du Ventre - dancing girls of a famous tribe in Algeria, 1000 miles into the Sahara. Prizma color photography.\n\nExtensive and careful study of the Desert of Sahara by Capt. Angus Buchanan. Well adapted for teaching purposes.\nHouses of Hair (6) A record of the life and strange customs of the Bedouins, the first ever secured by a motion picture photographer.\nLife in the Sahara (1) Arab mode of living in the Desert, including the date harvest and Arab Fantasia.\nThe Moor (6) One Thousand and One Nights in this mysterious country.\nMorocco, the Mysterious (1) Astounding revelation of the customs and occupations of the people of Fez.\nMosques and Minarets (1) Scenes of interest in Constantine and Tunis.\nOases of the Sahara (1) Scenic gem, devoted to the desert and its people. Caravans, market day in an Arab city and the primitive method of drawing water from desert wells. Prizma color. Admirable for classroom use.\nThe Sacred City of the Desert (1) Oasis vegetation and various views.\nWandering Tribes of the Sahara, a desert city said to have been built centuries ago by a tribe which found refuge there. Prizma color.\n\nA unique annual occasion among the Israelites of the Desert. (151)\nGROUP 26 (Northern Africa)\nAlexandria\nStreets and structures of the city of Alexander the Great. (1)\nThe Bazaars of Cairo An intimate picture of the teeming life in the streets and bazaars of the Egyptian Capital. (67)\nBritish Egypt Cairo; the Nile Bridge; caravans in the morning mist. (1)\nCalling on the Sphinx The Great Pyramid of Cheops; the Second Pyramid; surprising aspects of the Sphinx. (67, 69)\nCosmopolitan Cairo Where modern progress mingles with the past. (1)\nThe Delta of the Nile River life on the Nile. (151)\nIn and About Cairo A study of native life. (111A, 151)\nThe Lower Nile: The Sphinx; the Pyramids; going up; Nile steamers; Luxor; Karnak. The Real Streets of Cairo: Intense Oriental life in Africa's metropolis.\n\nGeography\nGROUP 26 (Continued) AFRICA (Northern Africa), Egypt\nThe River Nile: Self-explanatory. (IX)\nThe Road to the Pyramids: The Tombs near Cairo. First impressions of the Pyramids.\nThe Upper Nile: Tombs of the kings at Thebes. Assuan. The Dam. Philae half submerged. Abu Simbel.\n\nGROUP 27 Central and South Africa\nAfrican Expedition Pictures: Series of single reel subjects photographed in unexplored Central and Southern Africa. Prizrna color.\n\nThe Cape of Good Hope: Record of events and landmarks dealing with the life of Cecil Rhodes; Capetown and Table Mountain. All in Prizma.\nCamering Through Africa (2) Big game hunting in British East Africa: Giraffes, buffalo, zebras and lions on their native heath. The Impi (1) - Native warriors of the Swazi in combat and at drill. Wilds of British South Africa (1) - Wild animal life of the jungles taken at their water holes. Royal Family of Swaziland (1) - Life in the lone surviving royal family of South Africa. Wilds of British South Africa (1) - Wild animal life of the jungles taken at their water holes. (See also Group 118)\n\nGROUP 28 Asia China\nCanton and Shanghai (1) - Views of these picturesque Chinese cities. Catching Up in Canton (1) - The modernizing of the conservative old Chinese city. China (1) - A \"natural color\" tour along some of China's rivers and crowded city streets. Views of the famous Summer Palace and the Temple.\n[China Today \u2014 Seeing China by Y.W.C.A (4) Travelogue, showing most beautiful parts of the Orient. (XXXI) A City That Never Sleeps Complete account of life, manners and customs in and about Canton. (22) The Coolie Man-power transportation in the Chinese cities, especially along waterfront in Chinese ports. Intensely interesting document of conditions of life in the densely-populated Orient. (TV, 28, 3S) Hong Kong and the Pearl River (1) The City of Victoria. Striking panoramas of the Harbor. Canton's floating population. (67) The Island of the Mist (1) City and people of Victoria, Hong Kong. (22) Kwang-Chow-Fu (1) Old portion of Canton, great southern metropolis of China. Crowded stretch of the Pearl River. Floating homes of the \"Water-people\" who live and die afloat.]\n\nCanton - Old portion of Canton, the great southern metropolis of China, located along a crowded stretch of the Pearl River. This account provides a complete description of life, manners, and customs in and around Canton (22). The Coolie system, as a means of man-power transportation in Chinese cities, is particularly interesting in Canton and Chinese ports (22). Witness the vibrant life along the waterfront and the densely-populated Orient (TV, 28, 3S).\n\nHong Kong and the Pearl River - Explore The City of Victoria, a captivating city in Hong Kong, situated near the Pearl River. Marvel at the striking panoramas of the Harbor and observe Canton's floating population (67).\n\nThe Island of the Mist - Delve into the city and people of Victoria, Hong Kong, on The Island of the Mist (22).\nThe Land of Chu Chin Chow, China - a land of scholarship and art, superstition and misery (XVT, 151)\nPicturesque Peking - Streets, Gates and Structures of the Chinese Capital. Panoramas of the Forbidden City (67)\nQuaint Customs of China - Intimate scenes of family life and old established customs of the land (XXV)\nShanghai - A tour of China's seaport, down the China Sea, through Singapore; shows how \"East meets West\" (I, 23, 156)\nGreat port of Shanghai - Europeanized and Americanized. Macao - the Oldest European settlement in China, founded by Portuguese (67)\nUnknown China - Interesting and unusual scenes in the land of contradictions, where literature, wealth, superstition, ignorance and poverty flourish side by side (XXV)\nCity Life in India and Ceylon - Mohammedan and Hindu village. Life and customs. (1)\nFestival in Colombo, Ceylon: Curious contrasts in the chief city of Ceylon. Costumes of the Singalese. Fakirs and Temples of India: A study of India with its religious fakirs and their ceremonies; India temples and customs. Views of the ruins of famous temples hewn from solid rock of the mountain sides, ages ago.\n\nGeography (Group 29) (Continued) Asia: India and Ceylon\nIndian Architecture: Temples and palaces of India. India's Three Hundred Million: Mohammedan and Hindu village life and festivals. In Old India: Including the Taj Mahal and Calcutta. (See also Groups 136-137)\n\nGroup 30: Japan\nAround Fujiyama: Along the Japanese Riviera and around the Sacred Mountain. Fishing at Otsu: Japanese fishing as carried on for centuries; life of the fisher-folk; done in Prkma color. (IV, XX, 28)\nThe Gaping Gullets of Gifu: Curious and amazing method of fishing with trained birds on the Gifu River in Japan. (67)\n\nThe Gifu River in Japan is home to a unique and fascinating method of fishing, where trained birds are used to catch fish. This practice, known as \"gaping gullets,\" is a curious and amazing sight.\n\nIn Sunrise Land: A Trip Through Japan with the Y.W.C.A. (4)\nTravelogue; manners and customs of Japanese people; beauty spots of the country. (XXXI)\n\nJapan: Scenic and industrial study of the country; Fujiyama beautifully pictured. All in Prizma color. (IV, XX, 28, 156)\n\nJapan: The Garden of the East (1) Japan's natural beauty. (151)\n\nJapan: Travelogue, showing the \"Flowery Kingdom\" before the earthquake, as it will never be again. (I, 23)\n\nJapan and Her Chief Industries (1) The silk, broom, parasol, tea and rice industries, each in detail. (XXI)\n\nModern Aspects of Japan (1) Views of Yokohama and Tokyo. (67)\n\nNikko (3) Historic Japan. (XXX)\n\nNikko in Snow Time (1) Unique and beautiful pictures of the Nikko temples in winter.\nTemples made during a heavy April snowfall. Pilgrims in the storm. (67)\nNippon (1) - Interior of Japan with primitive lumbering and fishing industries. Boys' Festival. (XX)\nSalt of Anping (1) - In the former Chinese island of Formosa. The great salt industry. (67)\nA Scenic Classic (1) - Beautiful cruise among the famous piney islands of Matsushima, one of the \"Three Famous Beauty Places of Japan.\" Titled in verse. (67)\nPush-Car Trails in Formosa (1) - Making new roads in an old land. Manpower push-cars. (67)\nTaihoku, Metropolis of Formosa (1) - The Japanese capital city of the island. Imposing public buildings. Festivities in honor of an Imperial Prince. (67)\nA Trip Through Japan (1) - Unusual scenes in the land of the Mikado, and the country about Fujiyama. (XX)\nWith the Hairy Ainu (1) - Study of the fast disappearing aboriginal people.\nThe North Island of Japan: Customs and Ceremonies (67)\nGroup 31: Palestine\nAt the Wailing Wall (1)\nDevout, steadfast, and proud Jewish people offering up their prayers at \"The Wailing Wall\" in Jerusalem, sacred and interwoven with the traditions of the Jewish race. (67, 69)\nAt Damascus Gate (1)\nViews of Jerusalem and its people. Churches of the city of three faiths. Mount of Olives. Garden of Gethsemane. (67)\nBedouins of Moab (1)\nLife beyond the Jordan, and glimpses of Jerusalem. (XX)\nBeyond the Jordan (1)\nThe beautiful Jordan River, and Holy Land surroundings. (156)\nThe Coast of Tyre and Sidon (1)\nFrom Beirut the modern to Ashkelon the desolate. (XVI)\nThe Cradle of Christianity (5)\nA travel through the Holy Land visiting places made famous by the life and teachings of Christ. (XXI)\nDaily Life in Modern Jerusalem (1)\nHabits and occupations of the races.\nPart of East: Damascus (1) of special interest in connection with the life of St. Paul and pilgrimages to Mecca. Picturing the Plains of Jordan, the Dead Sea, Moab, and Mt. Nebo (156). The Garments of Jerusalem (1) styles of dress that reflect the mode of life of the people (XVI). Hebron, the Ancient (1) a helpful introduction to Bible history (XVI). Jerusalem, the Holy City (1) views of the modern city, titled with Scriptural excerpts (67). Fourth Edition.\n\nGeography\nGROUP 31 (Continued) ASIA Palestine\nJerusalem Today (1) Walls of Jerusalem and various gates of the city. Plowing as in ancient times (IX). Nazareth (1) the city, people, and shrines (156). Palestine, Old and New (2) scenes that revive ceremonies of events in sacred history, and others showing the progress made by the Jews in rebuilding Palestine (XVI).\nPilgrimage to Palestine (Series of 20, 1 reel each)\nBethlehem, The Birthplace of the Child Jesus (1)\nScenes in and around the city. (XV)\nNazareth, The Boyhood Home of Jesus (1)\nTypical scenes of Bible times. (XV)\nThe Sea of Galilee (1)\nScenes of Christ's early ministry. (XV)\nBethany in Judea (1)\nScenes of Christ's later ministry. (XV)\nThe Garden of Gethsemane (1)\nScenes of Christ's agony, betrayal and trial. (XV)\nVia Dolorosa (1)\nScenes of Christ's Crucifixion, burial and ascension. (XV)\nJerusalem, The Holy City (1)\nHer walls and streets, primitive industries, and life of her cosmopolitan population. (XV)\nZion, David's City (1)\nOld part of Jerusalem, where David had his kingdom. (XV)\nCapital and location where Solomon reigned. (XV)\nSt. Paul's Journeys (1) Places in Palestine visited by St. Paul. (XV)\nRome in Palestine (1) Roman ruins still to be seen in Palestine. (XV)\nShiloh (1) The tomb of Joseph, Jacob's Well, and other interesting sites. Solomon's Temple (1) History of the holy site from the tented Tabernacle of Children of Israel and Temple of Solomon, down to present day. (67, 69)\nTommy in Palestine (1) Difficulties encountered by British Troops in wresting the Holy Land from the Turks. (XVI, 151)\nTribal Life in Palestine (1) Customs of the Bedouins. (111A, 151)\nThe Valley of Schechem (1) Rich in geographic and historical material. (XVI)\nVistas of the Holy Land (1) Sites of many Bible stories. (151)\nThe Walls and Gates of Jerusalem (1) Panorama of the Holy City and near views of life about its many entrances. (XVI)\nThe Walls of Palestine (1) Scenes of many biblical history events. (XVI)\n\nGroup 32: General\nEast of Suez (1) Port Said. The Suez Canal. Aden. Rough weather in the Arabian Sea. Bombay (67)\n\nSouvenirs of Singapore (1) England's stronghold in the Malay Straits. Mixed Oriental population. The tapioca industry (67)\n\nThe Land of Tin Millionaires (1) Working an open cast tin mine. In the Federated Malay States (67)\n\nThe Lure of the South Seas (1) Singapore and the interior of the Straits Settlements showing vast rubber plantations and coconut farms. (IV)\n\nMalayan Motor Roads (1) Tropic highways of the Federated Malay States. A poetic pilgrimage through an Oriental fairyland. (67)\n\nThe Port of Penang (1) Glimpses of one of the Straits Settlements of Great Britain. Harbor of Georgetown, the Capital. (67)\nUp-Country in Siam (1): Village industries; rice and tobacco culture.\n\nIn the Buddhist Kingdom of Siam (1).\n\nUnique pictures of the Royal Temple of Bangkok. The grand riverside pagodas (67).\n\nBangkok, The Capital City of Siam (1): The Capital city of Siam in all its colorful picturesqueness (67).\n\nKing Rama at the Royal Wat (1): The King of Siam comes to worship at the Royal Temple of Bangkok. Amazing architecture and decorations of the National Shrine (67).\n\nRuins of Angkor (1): Masterpieces of Brahman architecture in Indo-China ruins. Angkor-Vat ceremonies of Buddhist priests (XX, S3).\n\nThe Golden Gate to Siberia (1): Life in Vladivostok (XVI, 151).\n\nKorea and Java (1): Merchant life in the East (XVI, 151).\n\nGEOGRAPHY\n\nGROUP 33 AUSTRALASIA\n\nAustralasia\n\nAdelaide, Capital of South Australia (1): Streets and structures (67).\nBeyond the Horizon: A trip to the Australian cities of Sydney and Melbourne, Sydney, the Antipodean Metropolis of Australia, A Trip to the Jenolan Caves of Australia, Tasmania, the Garden of Australasia\n\nMelbourne, the magnificent great capital city of New South Wales; parks and traction system.\nRound About Adelaide: Vineyards; Eucalyptus trees; sheep; scenes at the seashore and the races.\nSydney, the Antipodean Metropolis of Australia: Australian skyscrapers; the botanical gardens; Sydney harbor and circular quay.\nA Trip to the Jenolan Caves of Australia: The Grand Canyon of Katoomba; the Great Arch and the caverns; glimpses of Sydney.\nTasmania, the Garden of Australasia: Cape Raoul; the Tasman Peninsula; Hobart, the Capital; the Russell Falls; down the Tamar River.\n\nGroup 34 Europe, British Isles\nAncient Winchester: The cradle of English history; one of the oldest and most historic English cities.\n[British Castles: Glimpses of castles and royal palaces in England and Wales. (151)\n\nGlimpses of English Town and Country: Stonehenge; Wells Cathedral; Salisbury; Oxford; Cambridge; Stratford. (67)\n\nHistoric Shrines of England: Landmarks commemorating the years of Britain's early history. (23)\n\nCommercial London: The business section of London; East Side and West Side. (151)\n\nGood Old London: Taking in some of the notable sights of the city. (1)\n\nLiving London: Glimpses of highways between Waterloo Station and the Tower of London. (151)\n\nOfficial London: The spirit and historical background of London. (151)\n\nOld London: Views of famous places in the \"city\" proper. (1)\n\nSeeing Sights in London: Famous places of the city. (67)\n\nSo This Is London: Street scenes, glimpses of the famous landmarks (1)]\n[Rural England: winding rivers, the moors, ancient castles, cattle-covered meadows, farmers' quaint cottages and surroundings. Hampton Court Palace in Prizma color with magnificent grounds and gardens. The Sunny South of England: Land's End, Torquay, and Weymouth. Torquay, the gem city of South Devon, and the beautiful surrounding countryside in Prizma color. Wells and its Cathedrals: shows the venerable cathedral, cloisters, and beautiful interiors. Scotland: Glasgow, Edinburgh, and rural country. Bonnie Scotland: typical scenes of Highland and Lowland. The Forth Bridge; Aberdeen; through the Caledonian Canal.]\n\nHampton Court Palace, ancient castles, Torquay, beautiful countryside, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Loch Lomond, Forth Bridge, Aberdeen, Caledonian Canal, Land's End, Wells, venerable cathedral, cloisters, beautiful interiors.\nAnd Prince's Street.\nScottish Tidbits. Notable sights in this stern but charming land.\nSeeing Scotland. Different glimpses of Scotland by train, motor and coach.\nThe Emerald Isle. Glimpses of a restful land.\nIn Old Ireland. Belfast, Dublin and Achill Island.\nGROUP 35 France.\nAlong the Riviera. Visions of beauty along the famous Azure Coast of Southern France.\nThe Ancient Duchy of Brittany. That portion of France where life and customs have changed little since the Middle Ages. In Pathe color.\nApple-Blossom Time in Normandy. Beautiful scenes of town and country life along the Seine in Northwestern France; historic village of Falaise, birthplace of William the Conqueror.\nAn Artist's Paradise. Artist colony at Concarneau, France, and the old town itself. Prizma color.\n[Fourth Edition, Geography SI, Scenes about the French village, making of cheese\n\nAuvergne\n\nFourth Edition\nGeography SI\nScenes about the French village; making of cheese\n\nBattlefields of France\n(1) The ruined coal mines of Lens; Fort of La Pompelle, near Rheims; German prisoners at work. (67)\n\nBeautiful Riviera\n(1) Scenes in one of the beauty spots of the world.\n[Bretons of the Sea: Tale of a fishing village in Brittany, depicting sailor-folk and their customs. In Prizma color.\nIn Brittany: Land of curious caps and sincere piety.\nChateaux of France: An artistic presentation of some castles, notable for their beauty and historic significance; Moravian wedding.\nThe Coast of Brittany: Peaceful life of the people of historic Brittany; their observance of old Druid customs; their occupations \u2014 primarily sardine fishing.\nCorsica, the Beautiful: Self-explanatory.\nGardens of Normandy: Deauville and surroundings, in natural color.\nMarseilles: Views of city and harbor.\nMediterranean Scenes: Marseilles; fishing colonies and an ostrich farm near Nice.\nMonte Carlo: Europe's famous resort, shown in Prizma color.]\nMoselle Memories (1) Vineyards along the Moselle River from Trier to Cochem (67)\nNice and Cannes (1) Pleasure cities of the Riviera. Casinos, cafes, parks, Paris the Beautiful (1) Glimpses of her notable buildings, monuments\nParis, the Magnificent (1) Beauty spots of the city. (67)\nUnconquerable Paris (1) Paris in all its glory. (151)\nParis in Fifteen Minutes (1) Life and scenes typical of Paris. (151)\nPeasant Life in Central France (1) Picturesque scenes portraying the peasants' daily life; including the silk industry in Lyons. (151)\nQuaint Rouen (1) Scenes of old chateaux, the town clock and the tower, made famous by the Maid of Orleans. (134)\nRefreshing Riviera (1) Europe's playground, in Prizma color. (IV, XX, 28)\nRheims (1) The famous cathedral in Prizma color photography. (XX, 156)\n\nGEOGRAPHY\nGROUP 35 (Continued) EUROPE France\n[Romance of Northern France (2): The reasons Northern France has been Europe's battleground and the tale of its cities. (I, 23, 69, 156)\nRuins of Rheims: The ruins of this renowned cathedral damaged during the World War. (134)\nSightseeing in France: Ruins of Rheims, Palace of Versailles, Island of Corsica. (XXI)\nStrassburg Redeemed: The streets and structures of the charming capital of Alsace. (67)\nA Stroll Through Strassburg: A city of quaint houses and even quainter streets. (1)\nA Trip Up the Seine: Scenic views along both banks of the river, including Notre Dame Cathedral, government buildings, and markets. (1)\nTrouville: The playground city with its Casino, bathing beach, and colorful crowd. Prizma natural color. (XX)]\nVisiting Metz and Luxemburg: Becoming acquainted with the people in each city and historical associations.\n\nWhen the Fishing Fleet Comes Home: Simple fisher folk of the Coast of Britanny welcome sturdy crews.\n\nGroup 36: Germany\nIn Beautiful Bavaria: Quaint peasants in native costumes; salt mines; Koenigs See, the prettiest lake in Germany and its water-falls.\n\nClimbing the Saxony Alps: A steamer trip and ascent of the mountain pinnacles.\n\nThe Lure of the Lorelei: Up the Rhine from Bonn to Bingen; The Rock of the Lorelei and Rhine castles.\n\nMunich, the Magnificent: Buildings and points of interest.\n\nThe Sentence of the Sarre: The French occupation of the Sarre Valley; rich farms; great furnaces and foundries.\n\nThe Spreewald near Berlin: Life on the River Spree and its picturesque surroundings.\nA Trip to Bavaria (1) Through the Bavarian towns, the largest of which is Munich. Principal streets and buildings; Old Heidelberg and other places of interest. (21)\n\nItaly (37)\nAlong the Riviera (1) Magnificent vista of \"The Azure Coast\"; handsome villas interspersed with Roman ruins and the Military Road traveled by Napoleon. (134)\n\nThe Buried City (1) Story of the destruction of Pompeii. (151)\n\nNaples and Vesuvius (1) Contrasting the carefree Naples with the ever-deadly menace, Mt. Vesuvius. (151)\n\nVesuvius in Eruption (1) Actual volcanic activity vividly pictured. (67)\n\nA Letter from Savino in Naples (1) Its poverty and squalor, as well as its beauty. (134)\n\nThe Island of Capri (1) Festival scenes; the Blue Grotto; Vesuvius gives warnings of disaster. (67)\n\nA Letter from Rome (1) The history of the city and some of its most notable sites. (21)\nFrom the Tiber to the Piave: Rome, Colosseum, Forum, modern ruins of Nervesa. Venice and Verona. Lake Maggiore and its environs, Alps of northern Italy. Giuseppe in Venice: street and canal scenes of the beautiful city and the life of an Italian boy. Jubilant Trieste after the armistice. Cathedral Towns of Italy: architectural contrasts in church structures of Florence, Milan, and Pisa. A Letter from Maria in Florence: busy city streets, river Arno spanned by graceful bridges, old cathedrals and palaces. Sicily: an island of sunshine, blossoms, and earthquakes. Sleepy Old Tuscany: rural life in Northern Italy. Fourth Edition.\nGROUP 37 (Continued) Europe, Italy, Naples and Sorrento, Surmounting Italy's Snow-clad Peaks with the Italian Army in the World War, GROUP 38, Spain, Barcelona, Various impressions of the great metropolis of Catalonia, The Queen City of Catalonia, depicting the life of the people of Barcelona, Granada and the Alhambra, One time Moorish city; Alhambra Hill; Court of Myrtles and Lions, In New Madrid, Modern aspects of the Spanish Capital and Metropolis, Toledo, \"The Spanish Rome,\" because of its ecclesiastical history and its Roman aqueduct, Pyrenean Perspectives, Penetrating the Pyrenees by trolley car; valleys, canyons and Alpine peaks; grazing sheep.\nThe fishing industry, making pelota basket scoops, playing the game of pelota, lace-making, in Spain. Spanish Children: charming studies of child life in Seville, Granada and Andalusian villages. King Alfonso's Busy Day: revealing his interest in the everyday life of his people. An Arctic Hike on the Great Aletsch Glacier: the greatest glacier outside of the Himalayas and Arctic regions; the Marjelensee, a wonder lake filled with baby icebergs. Facing Death on the Blumlisalp: parts of a glacier on the top of the Alps, cracking off and crashing into valleys miles below. Peasant Life in Switzerland: study of rural occupations and the simple mode of living of the Swiss. Quaint Berne: picturesque scenes of the city.\nGlimpses of San Marino, Village Life in Switzerland, Gibraltar, From London to Paris by Air, Netherlands and Their People, The Land of the Zuider Zee, Martyred Cities - France and Belgium\n\nSan Marino: Picturesque scenes of towns hidden in mountains and bordering lakes. (67)\nSwitzerland: Village Life, Picturesque scenes of towns hidden in mountains and bordering lakes. (151) (See also Group 117)\n\nGroup 40 - General\nGibraltar: Everyday life and historical associations. (151)\n\nFrom London to Paris by Air: Views from a plane between London and Paris, showing cities, harbors and beautifully laid-out farms of France, Netherlands. (I)\n\nThe Land of the Zuider Zee: The island of Marken, Dutch canals and neat little houses on the canal banks, fishing boats and picturesque windmills. (1) Little village of Volendam where natives still maintain customs and quaint costumes of old Holland. (1S4)\n\nMartyred Cities - France and Belgium: Monuments of horrors of war. (1)\nIn Flanders and France: Brussels (King Albert's Palace, lace-making, Palace of Justice, and other famous buildings); Bruges (The Flemish Venice, famous Belfry and city views); Antwerp (Harbor Works and city views).\n\nA Visit to Sweden: Tour from Gothenburg into the interior of Sweden, ending with a visit to the home of the Laplanders.\n\nA Visit to Norway: Everyday life of Norwegian people, their large herds of reindeer, snowcapped peaks, and winter sports.\n\nNorway: Fascinations of Norway in winter and summer.\n\nAmid Archangel Snows: Ships ploughing through frozen waters of White Sea. Seal hunting, Eskimo dog teams, scenes of domestic life.\n\nGEOGRAPHY\nGROUP 40 (Continued) EUROPE\n\nRussia in the Czar's Time: Glimpses of Russia under the imperial rule.\nRegime: 151\nNeath Poland's Harvest Skies: Polish peasant life and their quaint garb. Holiday festivities of harvest season: 134\nCzechoslovakia: Customs and costumes of this quaint country.\nPresent Day Prague: Views of the Metropolis of Czechoslovakia: 67\nIn Picturesque Prague: Narrow streets of the old city and the great buildings of the new: 67\nLand of the Bohemian: Character studies and customs of Czechoslovakia: 1\nCountry Life in Bohemia: Farms, cattle and crops of Czechoslovakia: villagers at work and play: 67, 69\nDown the Danube to Vienna: Falls of the Rhine; the source and course of the longest river in Europe; views along its banks: 67\nIn South Tyrol: Lake Garda and lemon orchards cultivated on its steep banks; mountain peaks and roads: 67\nInnsbruck: Fascinating city with its dog carts and quaint life: 67\nThe Gateway to the Black Sea: Costumes of this quaint country; scenic bits (XVI, 151)\nStamboul: Turkish quarter of Constantinople (1)\nThe Galata Bridge: Great bridge of Constantinople spanning the Golden Horn. Closeups of curious people (67)\nGlimpses of the Balkans: Scenic of beautiful Balkan States; Montenegro and ancient citadel of Athens (134)\nMontenegro: Life and customs in this tiny kingdom (XX)\nGypsy Land: A day with the Roumanian gypsies (QUA, 151)\nAbout Albania: Cities and customs (134)\nAthens, the Glorious: Showing a number of its famous landmarks and scenes on the island of Crete (XV)\nIn Modern Athens: The great Stadium; the Olympic games; the marathon\nAbout Athens, the Glorious: Showing a number of its famous landmarks and scenes on the island of Crete (XV)\nThe Alaska Cruise: Juneau; the Taku Glacier; Sitka and American Indian school (67)\nAlaska: The Alaska Cruise; Juneau; the Taku Glacier; Sitka and American Indian school (67)\nAlaskan Revelations: Glacial beauties of the North, birth of an iceberg, vegetation of the glacial regions, and vast Alaskan icefields. (28)\nBalto's Race to Nome: Race of Kasson and Huskies to relieve the diphtheria epidemic in Nome, 1925. Excellent scenic picture with much human and animal interest. (VI, 42)\nDown the Yukon: From White Horse City to Fairbanks; railway construction. (67)\nNavigating the Yukon: Trip up Yukon River; characteristic river craft and views of icebergs and glaciers. (22)\nHeart of Alaska: Description of interior Alaska. (42)\nOver the White Pass: Railway from Skaguay to the Yukon; scenic views along the way. (67)\nA Summer Day in Skaguay: Fourth of July; colossal flowers and strawberries; Bridal Veil Falls. (67)\n\nCanada (See also Groups 43, 52)\n[The Land of Evangeline: Arcadia with quotes from Longfellow's poem; Grand Pre and apple orchards in bloom. - Apple Blossom Time in Evangeline Land: Title tells it. - Region of Romance: Highlands of Ontario, Canada. From the Bay of Fundy to the St. Lawrence: St. Johns; the Fundy tides; Montgomery Falls. - Quebec in Winter: Quebec with its mantle of snow and ice. - Quaint Quebec: Chateau Frontenac; historic sites and monuments of the most picturesque city of North America. - In Old Quebec: Self-explanatory. - Montreal: Old and New: Title tells it. - Ottawa and Toronto: Views of both cities and Niagara Falls. Fourth Edition.\n\nGeography\nGROUP 42 (Continued) NORTH AMERICA Canada]\n[Georgian Bay to Winnipeg: The Thirty Thousand Islands; Fort William elevators and wonders of Winnipeg (67)\nLife on Canadian Prairies: The agricultural pursuits in this new country (156)\nRegina to the Rockies: Saskatchewan and Alberta; Blackfeet camp; Calgary and Banff (67)\nAcross British Columbia: A 500 mile journey across unexplored country (151)\nAtlin, the Switzerland of British Columbia: Five Finger Rapids on the Yukon; Lake Atlin; a fox farm; Llewellyn Glacier (67)\nA Bit of Heaven: Lake Louise (1)\nLake Louise: A trip through this scenic spot of the Canadian Rockies (XXI)\nExquisite Lake Louise: The beauty spot of the Canadian Rockies (67)\nIn the Canadian Rockies: Resources of the Canadian Pacific Region (28)\nThe Canadian Rockies: Mountains and rivers of this beautiful range (1)]\nThe Perfect View: Glorious mountain country of the Canadian North-west.\nFar Horizons: Party of men in Canadian Rockies. Scenes of beautiful snow-covered mountains.\nThe Forest King: Scenes along Canadian River. Beautiful scenery and wonderful views of moose and deer.\nThrough Canadian Canyons: Kettle Valley Railway; Kootenay Lake; along the Fraser River to Vancouver.\nThrough the Norway of America: Canadian Rockies.\nToiling for Rest: Canadian grandeur, showing Banff and ruggedness of Rockies.\nUp the Stikine River: Wilderness of British Columbia.\nThe Yoho Valley: The Canadian Yosemite; Emerald Lake; Kicking Horse Canyon.\nThe Wanderluster: Scenic of British Columbia.\nWhere the Waters Divide: Little rivulets in the Canadian Northwest begininnings of mighty streams.\nGroup 43: Polar Regions\nCapt. Kleinschmidt's Adventures in the Far North: Scenic record of trip from Seattle through Inside Passage to Alaskan seas; animal and bird life in the Arctic; Eskimos and far-northern industries \u2013 notably whaling. Recommended.\nThe Great White North: Rasmussen's dash for the pole; scenic record of life in far-northern lands, particularly along the Greenland coast. Highly recommended.\nKivalina of the Icelands: Love, devotion and perils in the shadow of northern lights; Aurora Borealis in natural colors, and other wonders of the Arctic. Photographed by Earl Rossman. Awe-inspiring document of a curious people.\nNanook of the North: A picture epic of Eskimo life.\nThe greatest screen achievements to date. Portrays the grim struggle of life against the elements in the Arctic with intense and dramatic realism. (XV) A Trip to the Arctic with Uncle Sam (4) Record of far-northern Eskimo life of Alaska and the Siberian coast as seen by the U.S.S. Bear of the Coast Guard. Each reel a unit in itself.\n\nGroup 44 United States (Continental) East\n(For U.S. Insular Possessions, see Islands)\n- New England States (2) Distinctive physical features, their relation to industrial and commercial activities; cities and industries; typical historic spots. (1S4)\n- Middle Atlantic States (2) Resources which have made this region the busiest on earth; harbors; natural trade routes; mountains and lakes of Adirondack and Catskill regions. (134)\n- New England (5) Text film; coastal and inland topography; rivers for\nNavigation and water-power; New England cities (XXV)\n\nGeography\nGroup 44 (Continued) United States East\n\nAlong the New England Coast (1) Among Penobscot Indians and Provincetown painters. (151)\nThe Lure of the Maine Coast (1) Wild animals and beauties of this historic section. (28)\nHistoric Cape Cod (1) General survey of this interesting corner. (XI)\nQuaint Folks and Beautiful Scenes of Cape Cod (1) Study in New England characteristics and scenery. (28)\nTypical New England (1) Natural beauties of hill country. (151)\nTouring the Berkshires (1) Historic scenes in the picturesque hills of New England. (XVI, 151)\nA Trip to Mt. Tom (1) Self-explanatory. (XXX)\nVisiting Around Coolidge Corners (1) Title tells it. (XXX)\nFive Finger Lakes (1) Land of the Iroquois. (IX)\nNiagara (1) Familiar scenes, done here in Prizma color. (XX, 28)\n[Niagara Falls (1) The story of Niagara Falls impressively presented with maps and views. For sale only. (58)\nNiagara in Summer and Winter (1) Beauties of the Falls at various seasons. (XXI)\nThundering Waters (1) Niagara's power and beauty. (156)\nGroup 45 Central and South\n* Central Plains (2) Agriculture of the region; stock-raising, dairying, poultry farming; mining, lumbering and quarrying industries. (134)\nDells of Wisconsin (1) Scenic with many historical touches. (112)\n* Great Plains (1) Sheep and cattle on the range and ranch; cities. (134)\n* Southern States (2) Florida Keys; coal-mining in Birmingham district; the cultivation of cotton, sugar-cane, rice, peanuts and various fruits; lumbering manufacture of turpentine. (134)\nAlabama and its Waterways (1) Self-explanatory. (63)\nDown in Dixie (1) Southern industries and characters. (111A, 151)]\nDown South (1) Southern characters and customs. (151)\nFlorida (2) Text film. Physical characteristics; climate, vegetation, resources and industries; cities. (XXV)\nFruitful Florida (1) Grape fruit gathering and packing; ostrich and alligator farming; sponge hunting; Seminole Indians. (67)\nThe History of Mississippi (1) Picture story of the state. (63)\nIn the Old South (1) Industries -- cotton, maple sugar, broom corn, peanuts, etc; native life and types. (XXI)\nOn the Trail of the Lonesome Pine (1) Trip into the Blue Ridge Mountains of Georgia. (151)\nOur Southern Mountaineers (1/4) Domestic industries, with old methods, pursued by country peoples of Cumberland and Blue Ridge Mountains. (22)\nPalm Beach and Miami (1) Florida views. (67)\nGROUP 46 Northwest An Oregonian Niagara (1) The falls of the Willamette in Oregon; salmon industry. (67)\n\"Highlands of Oregon (22) Scenic views of Mt. Jefferson, Mt. Hood, Columbia River, Multnomah Falls and mountain lakes. Motoring in Oregon (151) Motor trip through wooded and mountainous sections of Oregon. Oregon's Earthly Paradise (22) Scenes on Columbia Highway, built by people of Multnomah County, Oregon. Roof of America (XX, 28, S3, 37) Northern Montana watershed, its lakes, mountains and valleys. Blackfeet Indians. Prizma color. A Saddle Journey to the Clouds (30) Horseback expedition among the peaks of the High Sierras, \"America's Switzerland.\" Scenically beautiful. Summer Home on the Sierra National Forest (1%) Building a summer home on a national forest; how it is done. How Portland receives its water supply from the Oregon National Forest. To the Summit of Mt. Hood (1) Hiking to the heights; beautiful effects.\"\nAbove the clouds. Sentinels of the Sunset: Mt. Lowe and Mt. Wilson. Exploring two of nature's wondrous spectacles \u2014 Crater Lake and the glacier of Mt. Hood in Oregon.\n\nFourth Edition\nGEOGRAPHY\nKINETO COMPANY OF AMERICA, Inc.\nLargest Educational Film Library in the World\n\nTrails That Lure: Views of Columbia River Highway and the beautiful gorge. Campers and Eagle Creek Camping Grounds.\n\nGROUP 46 UNITED STATES Northwest\nTrails: Views of Columbia River Highway and the beautiful gorge; campers and Eagle Creek Camping Grounds.\n\nGROUP 47 Central West\nCliff Dwellings in Colorado: Ruins of Indian cliff dwellings built in Elkland, Shoshone valley of Wyoming. Prizma color.\n\nGarden of the Gods: View of Colorado's natural wonders. (111A, 151)\nKildeer Rodeo (Annual event at Kildeer Mountains, N.D.) Scenery in the Bad Lands. (XII)\n\nLittle Journeys in the National Forests of Colorado (Scenic trips from Denver and Colorado Springs into some of the 16 national forests of Colorado; Pike's Peak; the garden of the Gods; Mt. Manitou; Carroll Lake.)\n\nPike's Peak (Picturization of the mountain scenery atop the Continental Divide. (XX, 28))\n\nThe Silver Trail (Means of transportation along the trails of Colorado. Through the Roosevelt Country (Bad Lands of South Dakota and surrounding area); Roosevelt played an important part in its development. (XXI))\n\nWichita National Forest and Game Preserve (Weird rock formations and scenic wonders; game preserve, birds, bison, wild turkey and deer; Indian buffalo hunt. (144))\nThe national forests of Colorado: Wonderland of Canyons and Peaks. The Royal Gorge trip, Leadville, Lake Creek, and Mount of the Holy Cross. (14, 4)\n\nGroup 48 Southwest\nThe Apache Trail: Old trail used by Spanish explorers, including scenes in color of Roosevelt Dam; Apache Indian at home and ruins of cliff dwellings. Prizma color. (IV, XX, 28)\n\nTrailing the Apache Trail of Arizona: Scenes along highway through the southwest; views of Roosevelt Dam and ruins of ancient cliff dwellings.\n\nThe Grand Canyon: Prizma color reproductions of scenic wonders of the famous canyon of the Colorado. (IV, XX, 28, 156)\n\nThe Grand Canyon of the Colorado: Color film showing canyon from (1)\nGrand Canyon of Arizona: Visions of grandeur from the Rim; caravaning down the trails to the Colorado River. Petrified Forests: Wonders of Arizona's petrified forests and the Painted Desert. Along the Rio Grande: The great American Sahara, Santa Fe trail, Albuquerque, Pueblo architecture. Old Santa Fe: Points of historic interest. California: Detailed study showing agricultural activities and industries, beauty spots. The Romance of California: Picturing the development of the state.\nThe Redwood district of California. Prolific California showcasing some of its natural resources. Big Trees of California, a study of these wonderful giants. For sale only. Old Missions of California, Spanish missions along the California coast. The King's Highway, a trip along El Camino Real beginning at San Juan Capistrano, visiting a number of missions. The Valley of the Seven Wonders, where the last missions were built; scenic beauties and historic events of early California. Mt. Whitney, the highest mountain in the U.S. - rugged trail and high peaks. In the High Sierras, on Lake Tahoe; with the Government pack train from the Giant Forest to the High Sierras of California; Yosemite Valley. Hitting the High Spots: Mt. Tamalpais, towering redwoods, Lake Tahoe.\nLassen Volcano National Park with bubbling mud pots; crest of Mt. Shasta. The wild life of the High Sierras.\n\nGroup 49: The United States - A Ten Talent Nation. Reels may be used separately. (I, 23, 69)\n\nNorth America, the Center of the World Neighborhood. Soil Conservation. Location, Climate and Boundaries. Agricultural Resources. Size and Topography. Animal Resources.\n\nTopographic Formation. Forest Resources. Rivers as Agents in Shaping the Surface of the Earth. Water Resources. The Life History of a Stream. Mineral Resources.\n\nThe Ancestry and Classification of Soil.\n\n* Pacific Mountains and Lowlands: Lumbering and fishing industries; agricultural areas; commercial and industrial life; great seaports; views of famous scenic features. (134)\n* Pacific Mountains and Lowlands: Self-explanatory. (63, 112)\nRoads to Wonderland: Scenic spots reached by Federal, State, and County governments - Mt. Hood, Crater Lake, Yosemite National Park, Rocky Mountains (visualizes rich resources of minerals, forests, fertile valley farm lands and fruit orchards, scenic wonders). Rocky Mountains: Geographical survey of the Rocky Mountains. For sale only.\n\nThe Wanderluster: On the Great Divide.\n\nWestern Plateaus: Physiography and climate of Colorado Plateau, Great Basin, and Columbia Plateau; the life and industries of the people.\n\nGROUP 50 Cities\nAtlanta: Scenes in Capital of Georgia (business, residential and official life). (151)\nBaltimore: City of Firsts (a semi-industrial film showing most of the \"firsts\" for which Baltimore is internationally known. Scenes in first automatic ice-cream plant in the country). (XXHI)\nBoston: Replete with modern and historic interest. Sylvan Boston: Depicting the arboreal attractions of \"The Hub.\" Chicago: Points of interest and notable buildings. City by the Golden Gate: Life in San Francisco; scenic and customs. The City of Brotherly Love: Points of history and important buildings in Philadelphia. Historic St. Augustine: Self-explanatory. Mobile: A camera visit to spots of interest in this old Southern city.\n\nFourth Edition\nGEOGRAPHY\nGROUP 50 (Continued) UNITED STATES Cities\nNew Orleans: Simple activities of this Southern city. The Crescent City: Glimpses of New Orleans. New York\u2014America's Gateway: Noteworthy places and buildings. Infinite Variety of Little Old New York: Scenes and industries.\nManhattan: Life (1) Snowing the opportunities afforded the New Yorker. Marvelous Manhattan (1) High spots of the greatest city of the modern world. New York City (1) A study of New York City's sky-scrapers, bridges, etc. For sale only. The Two Fathers (1) Why New York City has grown so tremendously; shows property values of the past and indicates probable growth in the future. Romantic Richmond (1) Impressions of Virginia's capital with its many war-time memories. Down in Old Richmond (1) Cotton scenes and southern homes. St. Louis (1) Self-explanatory. Washington, D.C. (1) General survey of the Nation's Capital. For sale. Seeing Washington (1) Boys' and girls' club champions given trip to National Capitol. Washington, D.C. (1) View of city from Washington Monument \u2014 Capitol.\n[63, 112] Group 51: National Parks and Forests\nThe Story of Our National Parks: A motor bus tour of Yellowstone, Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Rocky Mountain National Parks. [2]\nAlgonquin Park: Self-explanatory. [XXX]\nThe Romance of Crater Lake: Fine scenic pictures photographed from surrounding mountains and from a boat on the lake. [22]\nGlacier National Park: Scenic trip through America's beautiful park. [1]\nPacking over Piegan Pass; trail to Iceberg Lake and other scenic spots. In Prizma color. [XXX, 28]\nGoing to the Sun in Glacier Park: Iceberg Lake; St. Mary's Chalets; sun camp; Piegan Pass; Gunsight Pass; Sperry Glacier. [67]\nMany Glacier Hotel; Lake McDermott; Swift Current Pass; Granite Park. [67]\nMount Rainier: Study of the glaciers and snowfields\nFor sale only. (58)\nAbove the Clouds in Rainier National Park: Self-explanatory. (XXX)\nRocky Mountain National Park: Title tells it. (36, 121)\nSequoia National Park: Next best to a personal trip among the giant redwoods. (XVI)\nYellowstone National Park: Study of the phenomena and natural wonders\nFor sale only. (58)\nYellowstone National Park: Self-explanatory. (22, 112)\nYellowstone National Park: Title tells it. (XXX)\nWonders of Yellowstone: Touring the National Park; Grand Canyon and Falls of the Yellowstone River. (67)\nWhere Rails End: By stage through the Teton Mountain route to Yellowstone. (14)\nSage-Brushing Through Yellowstone National Park: A camping party enjoys the natural beauties of the park, admirably photographed; animal life.\n[151] Old Faithful, the famous geyser and the terraces. Natural geysers of Yellowstone: Mammoth Hot Springs and geysers. [2] Yosemite \u2014 Valley of Enchantment: A well-nigh perfect reproduction in natural color of the wonders of Yosemite. Valuable for school classes due to its guide maps. Titled from Muir, Burroughs, and Van Dyke. [XV] Yosemite National Park: Specially tinted to present natural beauty properly. [XVI] Yosemite: A beautiful story of Yosemite. [1] The Yosemite Valley: A general survey. [22, 63, 112] Wonders of Yosemite: Scenery in the beautiful Yosemite Valley. [rV, XXX] When Winter Comes in the Yosemite: Snow and ice-coverings enhance natural beauty.\n\nGEOGRAPHY\nGROUP 51 (Continued) UNITED STATES National Parks and Forests\nThe Santa Fe National Forest: Complete view of the region. The Prehistoric Bandelier - ancient and modern pueblos in Santa Fe National Forest. Pictorial story of the \"cliff-dwellers.\" Meadows and Mountains - views of Gallatin National Forest, Montana. Building a highway as an approach to Yellowstone.\n\nGroup 52 Indians - America's Oldest Inhabitants - The Taos Indians of Northern New Mexico. Before the White Man Came - story of pre-historic America, showing life and customs of the Indians. Cliff Dwellings - interesting ruins of Indian cliff dwellings built in the First Americans - daily occupations of the Blackfeet and Pueblo Indians - baking bread on hot stones, basketry and weaving.\nFirst Families of America: Grinding wheat and baking; making pottery; basket weaving of the Hopi Indians; Navajo blankets. Indian Frontier Series: Old Indians tell of experiences they and other members of their tribes had when the \"pale-faces\" first came into their country. Six in series: The Man Who Would not Die, The Mandan's Oath; The Man Who Smiled; The Dirty Little Half-breed; White Man Who Turned Indian; The Medicine Hat Indians of the Painted Desert. In Totem Land: The Alaskan Indians \u2014 their old traditions and superstitions; totem poles. Land of the Navajo: The modern Navajo's country. Last of the Seminoles: Indians of the Florida Everglades; record of Seminole life. (XV, 2 reels each) (The Man Who Would not Die, The Mandan's Oath) (The Man Who Smiled) (The Dirty Little Half-breed) (White Man Who Turned Indian) (The Medicine Hat Indians of the Painted Desert) (1/4) (In Totem Land) (1) (The Alaskan Indians \u2014 their old traditions and superstitions; totem poles) (21) (Land of the Navajo) (1) (The modern Navajo's country) (IX) (Last of the Seminoles) (1) (Indians of the Florida Everglades; record of Seminole life) (XX, 28, 33)\nThe Last Stand of the Red Man Indians and Indian country as it once was, in contrast with conditions of present day.\n\nLimbless Family Trees: Totem pole studies; views of home life of Kitwanga Indians, British Columbia.\n\nA Lonely Soul: An Indian's story of how his race lost its heritage.\n\nThe Pueblo Indians: Pueblo Indians in the village of Acoma, New Mexico; making pottery; Indian life and customs; many still living in age-old cliff dwellings.\n\nThe Pueblo Indians: A study of this ancient tribe of Indians in their natural, primitive environment. For sale only.\n\nSkyland: An old man's story, told to his grandchildren, of the Land of Drifting Clouds, where as a boy he learned to know real Indians. Some splendid views of the Indian country and Blackfoot ceremonials.\nThe Sky Tribe (1) Pueblo Indians and their dwelling places in the Painted Desert of the Southwest.\nThe Vanishing Race (1) A study of the slowly dwindling Indian on the reservations.\nWeeping Waters (2) Scenic, incorporating an old Indian legend.\nWith the Hopis and Navajos (1) Principal Indians of New Mexico; their dances and crafts, silver work, basket weaving, pottery making, and common customs.\nCentral America and Mexico\nGROUP 53 Central America and Mexico\n6uatemala (1) In the land of Aztecs and Mayas; ancient temples and gigantic monoliths showing civilization centuries old.\nGuatemalan Glimpses (1) Beauties and perils of the earthquake region.\nGuatemala Indians (1) Life among the Maya and Zutuhil Indians.\nCoffee Grounds (1) Native life on the coffee plantations of Guatemala.\nRuins of Old Antigua (Native life and ruins in the first capital of Guatemala) (Fourth Edition, GEOGRAPHY, Group 53 (Central America and Mexico) Marimba Lamb: Manners and customs of descendants of Aztecs and Toltecs in Guatemala. Prizma color. (XX, 28) Mexico, Historic and Architectural: Unusual subject showing relics of civilization antingating the Aztecs. Famous ruins and more modern architectural beauties. (XX) All Aboard for Sombrero Land: Visit to Old Mexico, Xochimilco, Guadalupe, pyramids of San Juan Teotihuacan. (XXI) Picturesque Industries of Mexico: Catching flies for fish and bird food; gathering fly-eggs; sandal making; brick moulding, and feather work. (XX) Rejuvenated Mexico: Recent glimpses of city and town life. Mexico City: Historical study of Mexico City. For sale only. (58) Mexico City (Historical study) (58)\n[Panama (1)] The old city of Panama and trip through the canal by stop motion photography. (151)\nAcross the Isthmus of Panama (1) Views of construction of the Panama Canal which shows the magnitude of the engineering feat. (I)\n\n[Panama Canal (2)] A complete and scientific study of this mighty achievement. [Panama Canal (%)] Bird's-eye view of the canal and drawings showing operation of locks. A ship passing through the canal. (22)\n[Panama Canal (1)] The story of the Panama Canal visually presented by maps, diagrams, and selected views. For sale only. (58)\n[Panama Canal and Its Historical Significance (1)] A pictorial survey of the whole work, from the ground and from the air. (42, 63, 134)\nGROUP 54 SOUTH AMERICA\n[Native Life in Venezuela (1)] Primitive customs and industries of the people. (XXI)\nSeeing things on the Orinoco: typical villages, coffee plantations, houseboats, and yachts. (22) Through the Guiana Wilderness: claimed to be the first motion picture ever made of the wild region along the Essequibo River; native types and modes of living. (22) Colombia: a scenic part of our South America neighbor. (I) On the Amazon: a trip up the world's mightiest river, touching at Para and Manaos, Brazil. (151) Up the Amazon: starting at Para and continuing through the jungles to the heart of Brazil. Study of the vicious South American ant and its enemy, the ant eater. (XXI) Outing in Brazil: visiting Port Carbenella, Parahyba, and Escobar village. Rio de Janeiro: a picturesque scene of the City of Palms. (151) Rio the Beautiful: U.S. Navy film. (XXX) Ascending Corcovado and Sugar Loaf Mountains: viewing Rio de Janeiro. (1)\nFrom a height of over 3,000 feet (151).\nRambles Round Rio (1) - A visit to the fascinating suburbs of this city.\nRolling Down to Rio (1) - The capital and metropolis of Brazil; panoramas of the wonderful harbor, magnificent avenues and old-time streets (67).\nOver the Andes (1) - Noteworthy impressions of the country and people of Peru (1) - From the seacoast to the summit of the Andes. Remarkable scenery - views of the highest town in the world (I).\nFrom the Land of the Incas (1) - Relics from Incas burial grounds in Peru reveal much concerning their ancient civilization. Invaluable for any study of their occupations and their arts (XX).\nA City of Kings (%) - Journey through Lima, Peru; city and harbor views.\nUp the Upper Parana (1) - Steamboating in a wilderness; Yerba Mate (67).\nThe Cataracts of Iguassu (1) - Through tropic forests to the Falls; unique.\nAnd wonderful pictures of the super-Niagara of South America. (67)\n\nGoing Down to Buenos Aires. Cruise to South America, touching at Pernambuco, Bahia and Santos; splendors of Buenos Aires. (67)\n(See also Group 133)\n\nA Projector in Every School, Church and Community Center.\n\nGEOGRAPHY\nGROUP 55 ISLANDS\u2014 Atlantic Islands\u2014 Atlantic\nBermuda, an Ocean Paradise. Self-explanatory. (22)\nA Little Atlantis. The Bermudas from the air. St. George. (67)\nCanary Villages. Camera visit to people of these islands; native types, architecture, etc. (XX)\nThe Island of Cuba. Different phases of life in Havana, a great commercial center. * (151)\nUnder Cuban Skies. Morro Castle; city of Havana, its palace and cathedral. (67)\n** Cuba Steps Out. Miscellaneous views, followed by an excellent presentation of the tobacco and sugar industries. (IX)\nRambles in Porto Rico, Jamaica, St. Thomas, Our Newest Possessions, French West Indies, Hollands Caribbee\n\nPorto Rico - A land of scenic beauty\nSunny Porto Rico - Impressions of life in Porto Rico, the isle of enchantment\nBeautiful Jamaica - Scenes in the \"Jewel of the Caribbean\"\nRambles in Jamaica - A trip through this island\nSt. Thomas - A tour of our latest possession in the West Indies\nOur Newest Possessions - Each reel a unit, may be used separately: Harbor; marine barracks, American soldier life. Crum Bay; barracks; native types. Island of St. John; ruins of estates and palaces of old Dutch planters. Pirates' Castles. Magnificent castles built by pirate chiefs on St. Thomas Island.\nFrench West Indies - General survey of the islands\nHolland's chief possession in the West Indies - Curacao, first photographs of quaint architecture and transplanted Dutch atmosphere.\nThe Dead City of Martinique: Desolate scenery on the island, ruins of St. Pierre, natives, asphalt industry, jewelry making, cocoa and beans.\n\nCatalina Island: \"Pearl of the Pacific\" - its underwater life, pelican, seal, and other odd dwellers. (IV, XX, 28)\n\nHawaii: Scenic features of the islands, sugar cane plantations, native dances. (XX, 28)\n\nEden of the Pacific: Hawaii and its environs in Prizma color, night-blooming Cereus, Honolulu and the rice fields. (IV, XX, 28, 156)\n\nThe Hawaiian Islands: A pictorial story of the activities of the Hawaiian Islands. For sale only. (58)\n\nA Trip to the Hawaiian Islands: Self-explanatory. (30)\n[1] Life in Honolulu; work on pineapple plantations and in rice fields.\n[1] Beauties of Hawaii: waterfalls and lava forests; glimpses of coffee and sugar.\n[1] Hawaiian Glimpses: native grass huts, net mending, hat weaving, etc.\n[1] A Day in Honolulu: harbor and street scenes; studies of manners and customs.\n[1] Back Country of the Philippines: descendants of head hunters \u2013 how and where they live; floating rafts of coconuts covered with lotus blossoms.\n[1] Up-to-Date Manila: the modernized Philippine Capital.\n[1] Venice of the Orient: Manila \u2013 native and foreign life.\n[1] Two Ends of a Rope: hemp industry of the Philippines; cutting \"Abaca\"; stripping hemp; drying, inspection and shipping of the product.\n[1] Tagalog Toilers: Philippine rice industry; salt industry of Luzon; cacao and bread-fruit.\nThe Pasig River (1) Waterfront in Manila and suburbs; the scenic upper reaches of the Philippine Thames.\nThe Lowlands of Luzon (1) Country life in the Philippines; peculiar fruits; hemp industry.\nIn a Manila Wrapper (1) Tobacco industry of the Philippines; Manila cigars and cigarettes in the making.\nHiking with the Igorotes (1) Over the trails of the Mountain Province of Hidden Cascades of Luzon (%.); Travel picture of trip up Pagsanyan River in jungles of Luzon to magnificent falls in native canoes.\nFourth Edition\nGEOGRAPHY\nFull Courses in Motion Pictures\nSupplementary to the Regular Curriculum\nMay Now be Obtained in the Following Subjects\nU.S. Geography Biology\nEuropean Geography Household Economics\nPhysical Geography History\nPhysical Training Nature Study\nCivics - Literature\n50 SUBJECTS LISTED IN THIS BOOK\nRental Distribution in the Eastern States Only \u2014 Sales Distribution, Everywhere\nEdited Pictures System Inc.\n71 W. 23rd St. Correspondence Solicited\nNew York City\n\nGroup 56 (Continued) Islands\u2014 Pacific\nUncle Sam's Samoa (1) How our little-known possession in the Pacific looks today.\nToday in Samoa (1) Harbor of Apia; Stevenson's home; Samoan cocoa-nuts and copra; Samoan dancer. (67)\nFrom the Floating Cities of China to Samoa (1) Native life and industries on rivers and seas. (151)\n\nBali, the Unknown (2 or 4)\nNatural color photography of this island near Java \u2014 an isolated race with peculiar customs and industries. Exceptionally beautiful. (IV, XX)\n\nA Polynesian Odyssey (1)\nUnusual pictures of the little-known island of Bali and its people; next door to Java, but different and peculiar. (67)\nA Borneo town of Bandjermasin: streets are water lanes, traffic in gondolas.\n\nRural Java: picturesque people, farming, gathering kapok, cultivation of quinine trees, rice cultivation.\n\nIn Batik Land: intimate glimpses of life, customs, and industries of the Javanese where the art of waxing and dyeing Batiks originated. Boro-Bodor and the Bromo: two of the greatest sights in Java \u2014 an ancient carved pyramid of Boro-Bodor with wonderful sculptural decorations, and the active volcanic crater of the Bromo, smoking in the vast abyss.\n\nIn the Garden of the East: beautiful glimpses of Java, Batavia, sugar fields, strolling entertainers.\n\nSurabaya: the busy Burg of Java, commercial metropolis of the Dutch East Indies.\n\nBatavia: the Javanese Capital, life and customs of the Dutch and Javanese.\nFiji Does: Rubber and banana industry (67, 69)\nFire Walkers of Beqa: Unique pictures of ancient and rarely performed sacred rite of Fiji Islanders (67)\nSura and Fiji Islands: Life and customs of natives (28)\nCelebes: Views of Macassar, the chief city; native industries and amusements (1)\nVisiting the Sultan of Sulu: Jolo, chief city of the Sulu Isles; curious Sulu customs; close-ups of the Sultan (67)\nHouse of the Sun\u2014Sandwich Islands: Work on a sugar plantation; cattle range; trip to peak known as the \"House of the Sun\" (28)\nIn Gulfs Enchanted: Cruise through romantic south seas with stops at historic ports and towns (XVH)\nHead Hunters of the South Seas: Life and customs of Cannibals in South Seas (6)\nPick the right film \u2014 then use it skilfully.\nGEOLOGY AND METEOROLOGY \"1000 and One\"\nGEOLOGY AJSD METEOROLOGY\nGroup 57: Geology and Meteorology\nThe Birth of the Earth (^4): Nebular hypothesis illustrated.\nSeasons of the Year: Animated drawings depict earth's inclination, position with respect to sun's direct ray at various seasons. (XI, 71)\nThe Eclipse of 1925: Presented under the supervision of Scientific American, showing every phase of the phenomenon. (XVI)\nScience at Home \u2013 The Story of the Atmosphere: Self-explanatory. (151)\nI. The Science of Weather Prediction: How a U.S. Weather Bureau observer creates his prediction sheet. (1/4)\nMysteries of Snow: Different kinds of snow crystals and their causes. (%)\nMarvels of the Universe \u2013 Dewfall: Experiments to demonstrate causes of dewfall, dew condensations and frost formations under microscope.\nThe Birth of a Tornado: Causes and effects of tornadoes; animated drawings and photography. (22)\nThe Work of Rivers: \"Chalk Talk\" - illustrating the evolution of river valleys through youth, maturity and old age. (42, 134)\nRambles of a Raindrop - experiences of a raindrop in geyser, cloud, waterfall, lake, river and ocean. Good teaching material. (IX)\nA Study of Niagara - geography and scenery of the region; geologic history of the Falls and Gorge. (42, 134)\nGrand Canyon of the Colorado - Story of the origin of this marvelous canyon; visual study in formation and erosion of earth's crust. For sale only.\nWonderful Water - combining excellent features of the best scenic with scholarly treatment of subject matter; the effect of running water and wave action upon the land. Rich in educational material, titled with simplicity and directness. (IV, XX, 56)\nThe Why of a Volcano - diagrams and animated models show reasons. (1)\nVolcanic Eruptions in the Celebes Islands (1)\nOur Volcanic Neighbors (1) Shows how mountain peaks were transformed into the Caribbean Islands. (I, 23, 69, 156)\nVesuvius (1) Yawning crater of the world's greatest volcano. (IV)\nKilauea's Volcano (1) Splendid picturization of the famous lakes of fire and views of the seething crater. Prizma color. (P7, XI, XX, 28)\nKilauea, the House of Everlasting Fire (%) Four-mile trip across crater to rim of fire cup. Photographs of boiling lava and river of fire. (22, 28)\nFormation of Volcanoes and Geysers (1) Diagrams and photography of volcano eruptions and of geysers. (134)\nThe Romance of Crater Lake (V2) Picturization of extraordinary phenomenon, a lake in a volcanic crater. (22)\nStudy of a Mountain Glacier (1) \"Chalk Talk\" by Atwood. Diagrams show\nGlacier formation stages. Supplemented by numerous scenic views of actual glaciers. (134)\nGlacier National Park. Animation showing how faults are caused, how glaciers are formed, with Park scenes included. (61, 121)\nClimbing a Glacier and a Volcano. Visiting the snow-clad Sierras and the fiery volcano \u2014 Kilauea in Hawaii. (151)\nThe Crystal Ascension: Mt. Hood and its glaciers, as discovered by a mountain-climbing party exploring the snowfields. Excellent for close views of mountain glacier and strange ice formations. (XV)\nThe Yosemite Valley. Study in glacial erosion through diagrams, animation, and selected views. For sale only. (58)\nStudy of Shore Features \u2014 Low Shore. How wave-action gradually changes a shore of bays and indentations to one of comparatively smooth lines. Atwood \"Chalk Talk\" and photography of actual localities. (134)\nStudy of Shore Features (1)\nRocky shore lines have greater and more magnificent indentations. (\"Chalk Talk.\" 134)\n\nThe Story of Coral Growth (1)\nWhat coral is, where it grows, and the kind of land it helps to make, are shown by Dr. Atwood in a \"Chalk Talk.\" (134)\n\nFormation of Caves in Limestone (1)\nWater seeping through earth's crust wears away the softer parts of rock below the surface. (134)\n\nDigging up the Past (1)\nLocating and obtaining skeletons of prehistoric animals in Badlands of Red Deer Valley, Canada. (XXX)\n\nFourth Edition\n\nGovernment Activities\nChecking the Imports (1)\nActivities of U. S. Collector of Customs. (151)\n\nExploring the Upper Air (1)\nFlights by Weather Bureau meteorologists to study upper air conditions for weather forecasting. (144)\nHelping Negroes Become Better Farmers and Homemakers (2) Agricultural extension system among Negro farmers in the South; benefits it gives. (144)\nThe Coast Guard (1) Its work in life-saving. (XXX)\nGuardians of the Deep (V4) How Government lightships, buoys, and lighthouses are maintained. (22)\nMaking a Mint of Money (%) US Mint in operation. (22)\nMoney, Old and New (^4) Work inside the NY Sub-Treasury. (22)\nPan and Ceres in the Movies (1) Scope and diversity of the motion picture work of the Department of Agriculture. (144)\nProduction's Pulse (2) How government crop reports are made by 215,000 reporters. (144)\nRomance of a Republic (Series of subjects as follows) (XI, 49, 112)\nDepartment of State (1) Department of the Navy (1)\nDepartment of the Treasury (1) Department of the Interior (2)\nWar Department (2) Department of Agriculture (1)\nDepartment of Justice, Department of Commerce, Post Office Department, Department of Labor, Some of Uncle Sam's Workshops: A detailed story of the workings of the U.S. Postal Service. For sale only. (58)\n\nSpeeding Up the Mail:\nScenes in NY Post office. (22)\nUncle Sam's Stamp Factory: Section of the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, showing how stamps are made. (22)\nWatching the Weather Above: Aerial activity, including the Army, the Navy, and Air Mail Service; forest fire airplane patrols and airplanes in insect control; importance of weather forecasting to successful aviation. (144)\n\nHistory\nGroup 59\nThe Birth of Czecho-Slovakia: Map showing location. Pictures of events connected with the establishment of a separate nationality. (22)\n\nAcross the Rockies to the Pacific: Final step in the coast-to-coast journey.\nThe United States' sovereignty progress. (134)\nBattle of the Marshes (1) Actual battle scenes, culminating in the Austrians' capitulation during the World War. (Ill A, 151)\n\nSettlers from the old colonies started the \"westward movement.\" (134)\n\nThe Chronicles of America (Series of 33 pictures, 3 and 4 reels each)\nAuthoritative, scholarly series, made by Yale University Press, to depict the important episodes and outstanding personalities of American history from Columbus to Appomattox.\n\nColumbus (4) Story of the great discoverer's struggles and discouragements, and his ultimate success which resulted in the discovery of a New World.\n\nJamestown (4) Life in Jamestown, the first permanent settlement of English people in America. Marriage of Pocahontas and John Rolfe and its effect upon the colony. (159)\n[Vincennes: Thrilling story of George Rogers Clark's expedition into the Northwest during the Revolutionary War and its far-reaching results.\nDaniel Boone: Story of the early days in Kentucky and the bravery, intrepidity and leadership of the great frontiersman.\nThe Frontier Woman: Revolutionary times in Tennessee, showing the fortitude, courage and vision of the frontier women.\nPeter Stuyvesant: Old New York and the transfer of Manhattan from the Dutch to the English.\nWolfe and Montcalm: The great battle on the heights of Quebec.\nGateway to the West: Washington at the head of a valiant little band attempting to dislodge the French from Fort Duquesne.\nThe Pilgrims: Their hardships during the first winter on New England shores.]\n\nHISTORY (Continued)\nDeclaration of Independence, Yorktown, The Puritans, Alexander Hamilton, Dixie, English Settlements in North America\n\nDeclaration of Independence: events preceding, Yorktown: surrender of Cornwallis to united French and American forces, The Puritans: establishment of colony and defense of rights under John Winthrop, Alexander Hamilton: highlights of life, Dixie: sacrifices made by southern women during Civil War, meeting of Grant and Lee at Appomattox, Eve of Revolution: events leading up to Revolutionary War, Boston Tea Party, Boston Massacre, ride of Paul Revere, battles of Lexington and Concord, English Settlements in North America: first English, Dutch and Swedish settlements, contrast between English colonizing and French exploration.\nFrench Explorations in North America: Main routes of French explorers, traders, and missionaries; Scenic visualization of the country traversed. (134)\nFlashes of History: Pictorial record of some of the outstanding events between 1910 and 1925. Unique in its educational value. (XV)\nFuneral of King Edward and Coronation of King George: Self-explanatory. (1)\nLouisiana Purchase and Lewis and Clark Expedition: Causes and immediate results of the purchase of Louisiana in 1803. (134)\nPermanent Peace \u2014 Washington Conference: Historical episodes which led to the Washington Disarmament Conference. (111A, 151)\nSettling the Ohio Valley: Problems faced by pioneers, types of early houses, mills, and stores. (134)\nStruggle of French and English for North America: Main campaign movements in the French and Indian War. (134)\nTrans-Mississippi Trails (Occupation of the trans-Mississippi region and immigration to the Central Plains.) (134)\nWar of the American Revolution (Tracing the great movements of the war.) (134)\n\nHistorical Scenics (Series of 1 reel each)\nLandmarks of Our Forefathers (Some of the earliest landmarks of the Virginia colony and places famous in later colonial history.) (XV)\nNew England Shrines (Historic and literary landmarks in and around Boston.) (XV)\nCharleston, Past and Present (History of the Charleston colony in connection with the geographic environment; views of old landmarks of the region still to be seen today.) (XV)\nFirst Americans (Contrasting habits, industries and religious ceremonies of the Indians of the Southwest with those of the more familiar Indians of the Plains.) (XV)\nAthens (See Europe, General) - The Ancient Duchy of Brittany (See France) - Three Ancient Cities of France: A colored picture of southern France and the cities dating back to medieval times. - East is East (See XV) - Pathe color picture of northern Africa, old and new Tunis, desert and oases; glimpses of Mohammedan life. - Ancient Rome - A scenic and valuable study of early Roman history. Rome's architectural beauty relics excellently reproduced. - Titling scholarly, distinctly suitable for the classroom (IX) - Historic Boston (I) - Points of historical interest in and around Boston. - General Lee's Home (XX) - Picturing the beautiful manor house of Confederate leader at Arlington. - Historical Marietta (1) - City founded after the close of the Revolutionary War.\n[149] Plymouth Rock: The Pilgrims' landing place as it is. [1] Shrines of American History: Showing the places where history was enacted; Lexington, Independence Hall, Valley Forge, etc. [I, 23, 69, 15G] Where the Spirit That Won Was Born: Philadelphia and Vallev Forge.\n\nFourth Edition\nHISTORY\nGROUP 61 HISTORY Historical Fiction\n\nAmerica [10] (Griffith production): Memorable incidents well treated - action at Lexington and Concord, and dramatic ride of Paul Revere. [XXIV]\n\nBarbara Frietchie [8] (Clyde Fitch's play): Excellent picture of the South in Civil War times. [XVIII, 19]\n\nBetsy Ross [o] (Blending history and romance): Alice Brady, John Bowers.\n\nCalifornia in '49 [6] (How the west was won). [19]\n[The Covered Wagon (13) Praise for this epic of western migration leading bands of American pioneers from the Mississippi Valley to the little-known lands beyond the Rockies. History brought to life on the screen. (VH) The Coward (5) Charles Ray and Frank Keenan in a Civil War story. The Crisis (8) Winston Churchill story of conflict between North and South. Custer's Last Fight (5) Thomas Ince production. Historical drama. (156) The Fall of Robespierre (5) Reproduction of the ever-thrilling story of the French Revolution. (79) The Fighting Blade (8) Romance of the days of Oliver Cromwell. Acted by Richard Barthelmess. (19) The Heart of Lincoln (5) Romance of Civil War days founded on an incident typical of Lincoln's self-sacrifice and big-heartedness. ** The Iron Horse (11) Dramatic story of the building of the first transcontinental railway. (IX)]\nJanice Meridith (12) - Much incidental material of historic value: Boston Tea Party, ride of Paul Revere, scenes on Lexington Commons.\n\nJoan of Arc (3) - Historic reproduction of life of Maid of Orleans, played by Geraldine Farrar.\n\nJulius Caesar (6) - Life story of Caesar, his career until he becomes dictator; picturing the conspiracy against him and his subsequent overthrow. Correct in historical detail. (77, 79)\n\nLast Days of Pompeii (6) - Historical drama. (79)\n\nThe Littlest Rebel (5) - E.K. Lincoln in Civil War story. Especially valuable from historical standpoint. (18, 79)\n\nThe Lost Romance (1) - Romances of the missions of California with excerpts from Mission Play. Authentic history of first California missions. (XXI)\n\nMartyrs of the Alamo (5) - Historical production of the settlement of our Great Southwest. (79)\nMessalina (8) Political intrigue, giving insight into the underworld of Roman life not altogether pleasant. Chariot race. Not for immature students.\nNapoleon and Josephine (7) History of the great emperor and devotion of his empress. Side-lights on the figures of the time.\nNorth of '36 (8) Blazing of the first Texas trail north of '36. Historic background setting for romance.\nPeter the Great (6) A true and vivid picture of Peter the Great and his times. Pre-view for school use.\nRobin Hood (9) Splendid rendition of this medieval story of chivalry and romance. Photographed in remarkable settings. Douglas Fairbanks, Enid Bennett and Wallace Beery.\nThe Spirit of Lafayette (6) A typical story of an American soldier in the Warrens of Virginia. Civil War story. (IX)\n\nThe Spirit of '36 (8) Historic background setting for romance in the blazing of the first Texas trail north of '36.\nPeter the Great (6) A true and vivid picture of Peter the Great and his times. Preview for school use.\nRobin Hood (9) Splendid rendition of this medieval story of chivalry and romance. Photographed in remarkable settings. Starring Douglas Fairbanks, Enid Bennett and Wallace Beery.\nNapoleon and Josephine (7) History of the great emperor and devotion of his empress. Side-lights on the figures of the time.\nMessalina (8) Political intrigue, giving insight into the underworld of Roman life not altogether pleasant. Chariot race. Not for immature students.\nWhen Knighthood Was in Flower: Charles Major's Romantic Story of Henry VHI. True historical background and accurate characterization. Marion Davies.\n\nWill Tell: Describing the story of \"William Tell,\" and the birth of the first modern republic \u2014 Switzerland. Produced on exact locations of the narrative.\n\nWinning a Continent: Produced in Africa; shows how the Boers established their country.\n\nA screen, a projector, 1000 and One and The Educational Screen \u2014 a necessary combination for any church, school or club.\n\nINDUSTRY AND ENGINEERING\n\nGROUP 62 Electricity Cables\nLand Cable Service: The title tells it.\n\nLinking the Three Americas: How ocean cables connect the continents.\n\nMarine Cable Laying: Self-explanatory.\n\nRepairing a Sub-sea Cable: Raising of a trans-Atlantic cable.\nExamination and repair. (22)\nSpeeding Up Our Deep Sea Cables - The world's fastest ocean telegraph. - (154)\n(See also Group 66)\n\nGroup 63 Radio\nThe Audion - Action of vacuum tubes which have revolutionized the art of communication. (154)\n\nThe Radio Telephone - How it operates. (XXX)\n\nThe Re-Awakening of Rip Van Winkle - Wherein the \"Slumbering Dutchman\" awakens and is initiated into mysteries of modern broadcasting station. (XXX)\n\nSafety at Sea - Comprehensive story of marine radio; an indispensable institution protecting life and property on the high seas. (XXX)\n\nTrans-Oceanic Radio - Pictorial digest of the world's largest and most remarkable trans-oceanic radio communication system. (XXX)\n\nWireless Telephony - How sound waves are carried by electric waves,\nThe Wizardry of Wireless: Brief history of communication; animated drawings explaining from a technical standpoint the principles involved in wireless. (X)\n\nGroup 64: Telephone and Telegraph\nBehind the Scenes: In a telephone office.\nConcerning Crossarms: Fir trees and their use in electrical pole and conduit equipment. (XXX, 154)\nThe Electrical Transmission of Speech: Presentation in animated drawing of fundamentals involved in transmission and reception of voice over wire circuits. (154)\nGetting Out the Goods: How the production of a great telephone manufacturing is distributed. (154)\nHow the Telephone Talks: Principles of communication by telephone. Details of transmitter and receiver. (22)\nMaking Telephone History (1) The story of the evolution of the telephone.\nPutting a Telephone Together (1) The title tells it.\nSomething About Switchboards (1) Unusual processes of fabricating and installing equipment which gives a telephone exchange its important position in modern business.\nSpeeding the Spoken Word (1) Operation of telephone system, from erection of poles to intricacies of central exchanges.\nSpirit of Service (1) Telephone linemen and their unselfish service to mankind.\nThe Telephone \u2014 A Modern Marvel (2) Development and manufacture of telephone equipment.\nA Telephone Call (1) Following the voice through various pieces of apparatus and electrical current carriers.\nTelephone Inventors of Today (3) Inside one of America's best equipped and most expertly manned centers for scientific experiment and operation.\n[Voice Highways in Making: Lead-covered cable which carries most of the world's telephone messages. The World's Telephone Workshop: City devoted to creating the instruments of speech.\n\nFourth Edition\n\nADVERTISEMENT\nSend for a Copy of this Booklet\nIt contains a list of twenty five\nMotion Pictures visualizing some\noutstanding achievements of a great American Industry\n\nAddress\nWestern Electric Company\nMotion Picture Bureau\n120 West Forty-first Street\nNew York, N. Y.\n\nINDUSTRY AND ENGINEERING\nGROUP 65 Electricity General\n\nThe Amber Soul: Manufacture of storage batteries. (14, 149)\nBehind the Button: Visualizing the tremendous power at work behind the little electric button. (XXX, 127)\nBehind the Signs on Broadway: Shows how the largest electric sign is made.]\nIn the world is operated: Benjamin Franklin's Return (1 and 2 reels) - Electricity and its varied usefulness in our everyday lives; story of conversion of coal into electrical energy (127). Big Deeds (1) - Pouring largest casting ever made in G.E. foundry; constructing largest armored cable in the world supplying electric power to Shanghai; making of enormous porcelain insulator; largest one-man shovel on earth; melting steel with water. Spectacular (X). Bringers of Light (1) - Manufacture of Mazda lamps (73). The Conductor (1) - Making of lamp cord from copper, cotton, rubber, and silk (X). The Death Ray (2) - H. Grindell Mathews' invention; some of the machinery he uses to cast the powerful beam said to be capable of destruction at great distance (XV). Electricity (4) - How it is generated and controlled; its application to our varied daily needs (28).\nThe Glow of the Lamp: A Complete Detailed Study of Electric Lighting. \"The Light of a Race\": Principal steps in the development of artificial illumination from earliest beginnings to the incandescent lamp. The Story of an Electric Meter: The title tells it. A Story of a Storage Battery: Its various uses and how it is manufactured. Westinghouse Works: A trip through the various factories. Electrical products are shown in process of manufacture. Yours to Command: Visualizing services of electricity \u2014 power and light as used by industries, commerce and in the home. Engineering Achievements: Group 66 Engineering Achievements. Famous Inventions of New England: Graphic portrayal of America's famous inventions. Letting Dynamite Do it: Many uses of dynamite \u2014 in various parts of.\nThe country. Its use in construction of Stone Mountain Confederate Memorial. Dynamite at Work: Varied uses of dynamite in industrial development. National Parks and East River Tunnels: Contrast between the works of nature and the mechanical achievements of today. \"I, 23, 69, 156\" Construction of Subway Tubes: New York's subway tubes beneath Harlem River. \"22\" How Brooklyn Bridge was Built: Various stages followed by means of animated drawings and photography. \"22\" The Bridges of New York: Self-explanatory. \"151\" Swapping Foundations under Skyscapers: Underpinning operations necessitated by building of the Seventh Avenue Subway, New York City. \"22\" Building a Skyscraper: The remarkable growth of a 32-story skyscraper, giving details of construction. \"XXX\" Cathedrals: Cathedral of St. John the Divine and others. \"XXX\"\nA Miracle in Modern City Building (2) Longview, Washington \u2014 a city entirely planned in advance and scientifically built \u2014 grew from nothing to over 10,000 people in 2% years.\n\nFrom Swamps to Workshops (2) The story of building Western Electric's new cable and switchboard manufacturing works at Kearny, N.J.\n\nFrom Caves to Skyscrapers (2) The development of man's habitations and places of worship.\n\nThe Conquest of a Wilderness (3) Scenes before and after the construction of the big steel plant and city (Gary, Ind.) by the United States Steel Corporation.\n\n***Spending Six Hundred Million a Day (1) New York's water supply. Its source and uses. (4, 9, 151)\n\nA Big City's Water Supply (Vi) Ashokan Dam in Catskills, part of New York City's water supply system, and how it operates. (22)\n\nFourth Edition\n\nIndustry and Engineering\nGroup 66 (Continued) Engineering Achievements\nNature's Frozen Credits (3) Building a great water plant in the Sierra Nevada mountains of California. (XVII, XXX)\nThe Water Supply of a Great City (1) Demonstrating how few of our great cities are supplied with pure water as compared to ancient, unsanitary methods. For sale only. (58)\nWater Works Wonders (2) Novelty special. (18)\nRoosevelt Dam (1) Picturing the dam and surroundings. (156)\nShort Cuts to Quantity (1) Examples of outstanding success in the achievement of mass production without sacrifice of quality. Particularly for technical schools and industrial training classes. (154)\nSalvaging Torpedoed Millions (%) Technical drawings demonstrating inventions to raise sunken ships. (22)\nPutting Volcanoes to Work (%) How heat and steam of volcanic origin might be utilized for industrial purposes. (22)\nGroup 67, Electrical Section\n\nThe Burning Question\u2014Ignition (2)\nThe Electric Heart (1) A complete picture of manufacturing storage batteries for automobiles.\n\nElectricity in the Motor Car (1) Generator, starting motor, combined starter and generator. Animation demonstrates how the gas is exploded by the electrical current and how the cylinders work.\n\nHeadlights (2) A safety film showing the necessity for good headlights.\n\nHow the Generator Works and Why the Starting Motor Starts (2) Self-explanatory.\n\nJupiter's Thunderbolts (1) Development of electricity; manufacture of storage batteries. (149)\n\nOne for Two \u2014 The Starter Generator (1) The title tells it.\n\nThe Carburetor (2) Animations depict what takes place inside a carburetor.\nStory of a Spark Plug (2)\nManufacture of spark plugs, including mining of sullimanite; the important part spark plugs play.\n\nStory of a Gasoline Motor (S)\nAnimation shows entire function of automobile motor, visualizing lubrication and operation of each moving part in comprehensive manner.\n\nThe Willys-Knight Motor (2)\nSelf-explanatory.\n\nStory of the \"V\" Type Eight Cylinder Motor (3)\nTitle tells it.\n\nStory of a Valve-in-head Motor (3)\nComplete manufacture and assembly.\n\nElements of the Automobile (12)\nA series visualizing inside workings of a motor car by animated drawings.\n\nThe Running Gear and Differential (7 & 8)\nIgnition (3 & 4)\nThe engine (9)\nThe Cooling System and the Clutch (5)\nThe Carburetor (10 & 11)\nThe Transmission\n(1) The Fuel System and Ignition, The Brakes (12)\nStory of an Automobile (5) A Studebaker car's manufacture and assembly. (135A)\nOakland Motor Car (2) Its manufacture. (XXX)\nFlexibility, Versatility in the Ford car's performance (2) (58)\n10,000,000th Ford Car (1) Assembling it. (58)\nHigh Spots, Complete assembly of a motor car (1) (127, 149)\nAmerica and Automobiles (1) The Lincoln car's manufacture. (58)\nThe Story of a Motor Truck (3) Its manufacture and what it means to America. (XXX, 142)\nA Day with the Tractor Builders (2) Analyzing metals in a chemical laboratory; pouring molten iron into molds; assembling various parts of a tractor.\nThe Power Thought Built, Evolution of the Fordson Tractor (3) (58)\nA Powerful Friend (1) The Fordson Tractor in industrial activities. (58)\nThe Fordson: A thorough analysis of the complete Tractor (Industry and Engineering Group 68)\n- Automotive Machinery: The efficiency of four-wheel brakes. (\"Right on the Job\" (1), p. 127, 149)\n- A Day in the Country: How disaster befell one family because of the lack of an anti-stall automobile safety device. (\"A Day in the Country\" (1))\n- Ford Age: A visual story of the Ford industries. (58)\n- Getting the Work to the Workmen: Demonstrating saving of time and labor through the use of a lift truck. (1)\n\nGroup 69: Miscellaneous\n- Building Gridley Automatics: Automatic production machines; equipment that makes possible the mechanical conveniences of today. (XXX)\n- A Closeup of Stoker Combustion: Operation of an underfed stoker. (2)\n- The Engine Lathe and Its Operation: Complete assembly of lathe parts, construction and operation. (134)\n\nThe Fordson: An in-depth examination of the entire tractor. (Industry and Engineering Group 68)\n- Automotive Machinery: The efficiency of four-wheel brakes. (\"Right on the Job\" (1), p. 127, 149)\n- A Day in the Country: How a family suffered from the absence of an automobile safety device against stalling. (\"A Day in the Country\" (1))\n- Ford Age: A visual account of the Ford industries. (58)\n- Getting the Work to the Workmen: Showcasing time and labor savings through the employment of a lift truck. (1)\n\nGroup 69: Miscellaneous\n- Building Gridley Automatics: Automatic production machines; machinery that enables the mechanical conveniences of modern times. (XXX)\n- A Closeup of Stoker Combustion: Operation of an underfed stoker. (2)\n- The Engine Lathe and Its Operation: Comprehensive assembly, construction, and operation of lathe parts. (134)\nFor the Good of the Commonwealth: Manufacture of large cast steel devices for locomotives and cars. Our Mechanical Servant: Principle of hydraulic elevator. The Modern Goliath: Varied uses of heavy excavating machinery. Multiplying Man Power: Efficiency of conveyor system in movement of goods. The Riveter: Operation of pneumatic riveter. Bridges and other structures of New York built with its assistance. The Universal Milling Machine and Its Operation: Parts and construction; manifold operation. POWER, MECHANICAL AND ELECTRICAL Group 70 Power, Mechanical and Electrical Building a Power Giant: Big steam power plant and what goes into it. The Busy Body: Personifying the 175 parts comprising the smallest motor produced. The Electrical Giant: Manufacture of a 50,000 H.P. steam turbine.\ngenerator, the largest single power producing unit in the world. (X)\nIndustrial Power: Various operations of tractors with special equipment in municipal and industrial use. (72)\nMexican Powerhouse: A huge dam and powerhouse supplying interior Mexico. Uses to which power is put. (XX)\nPower: Development of power from the earliest uses of steam to the great power stations of today. (XXX)\nThe Progress of Power: Mechanical power serving America's industries and municipalities. (XXX, 72)\nStory of Power: Shows the early development of the steam engine, modern uses of electricity, and by animated photography, the working of a steam engine. Story of Water Power: Primitive methods of utilizing energy of falling water; animated photography shows how the tremendous power of Niagara is changed into electrical energy. Many modern uses of electricity in industry and in homes. (14, 2)\nSuper Power Generation (1) Latest methods and most modern power plant equipment. (153)\n\nHarnessing the Waves (x/4) Utilizing the backward sweep of ocean waves to provide power to operate a dynamo for charging storage batteries. (22)\n\nVolta's Discovery (1) Interesting information on the evolution of electricity from the snowflake. Animated drawings show how it is generated at Niagara Falls. (XXIX)\n\nWhy a Magneto? (2) Physical and mechanical principles. (XXX) (See also Groups 68-9)\n\nNATURAL PRODUCTS AND PROCESSES\nGROUP 71 Fishing Industry\n\nThe Harvest of the Sea (1) Deep-sea fishing. (XXX)\n\n\"She Blows\" (1) Whale hunting in the Pacific. (56)\n\nThe Romance of Oil (1) Shooting whale and towing back to port. Oil gushers in Texas. (22)\n\nFourth Edition\n\nINDUSTRY AND ENGINEERING\nGROUP 71 (Continued) Fishing Industry\nAbalone Pearl Fishing: How pearl divers secure and deliver their pearls. Hawaiian Fishing: Grotesque fish under water, and views of tropical sponge fishers. Sponge Industry: How sponges are obtained and marketed. Out of the Sea: Sponge industry along Florida keys; glimpses of many interesting water forms of the region. Salmon Fishing: Life of the salmon from spawn till it is caught for canning; complete process of preparing canned salmon for marketing. Salmon Fishing on Puget Sound: Self-explanatory. On the Skeena River: Salmon industry of British Columbia; catching and handling at the cannery. Story of a Can of Salmon: Self-explanatory. The Miracle on Your Table: Complete operations of the great Alaska salmon industry. Maintaining the Salmon Supply: Propagation of the fish in hatchery.\nHow Salmon Are Caught (1) Various methods of fishing for British Columbia salmon. Canadian Government film.\nCatching and Canning Oregon Salmon (1) Purse nets; the \"Iron Chink\" at work; cleaning and canning. (67, 69, 156)\nOyster Industry (1) Where and how oysters are prepared for market (Chesapeake Bay). (28)\nFarming the Oyster (1) Self-explanatory. (XXX)\nOyster and Shrimp Fishing (1) Self-explanatory. For sale only. (58)\nShrimp Industry (1) Complete story of the industry, including underwater photography of live shrimp. (63)\nHarvesters of the Deep (1) Gloucester fisherman on New England banks; fishing for cod; preparation of cod-fish cakes. (102)\nFresh From the Deep (1) Catching and packing of halibut at Prince Rupert. (XXX)\nHauling in the Haddock (1) Fishing off the Massachusetts coast. (151)\nFresh Fish: Can a stream-pressure canner be used on the banks of the river for taking the canner to the fish (144)?\n\nScientific Fish Farming: State Fish hatchery at Hackettstown, N.J., where fish are bred for stocking public streams and lakes (22).\n\nFish and Fowls: Conservation of fish in inland waters; industry that supplies markets with deep water fish. Raising of poultry (XV).\n\nGroup 72: Lumbering and Forest Products\nCedar Camps in Cloudland: A scenic survey of the pole-making industry (1).\n\nConquest of the Forest: Felling trees and manufacturing lumber in Oregon and Washington (1).\n\nThe Doings of Turp and Tine: Animated comedy showing production of gum and Hercules steam-distilled wood turpentine (XXX, 66).\n\nDual-Purpose Trees: Naval stores industry of the South, including wood practices, distillation and marketing; plea for reforestation as one means of conservation. (1)\nDynamite: The Master Lumberjack - Blasting materials in lumber production. (1) Far Western Cedar Trails - Exposition of the cedar pole industry. (1) Felling Big Trees in the Giant Forest of California - Self-explanatory; shows biggest of all Sequoias, \"The General Sherman.\" (67) Felling Forest Giants - Resume of lumbering in Carolinas and the Northwest; various methods of handling. (XV) From Tree to Trade - Modern manufacture of lumber from standing timber to finished product. (85) The Land of the White Cedar - Making poles; life among the cedar-cutters of the Canadian border of Minnesota. (XXX, 154) Logging Eastern White Pine - Methods of lumbering as practiced in Pennsylvania; portable sawmills in New England; old-fashioned water-power mill of colonial days. (144)\nLumbering in the South: Ancient oxen and logging wagons; methods now used. (1) Lumbering in the North Woods: Steps taken in changing a standing tree into finished lumber. (58, 112)\n\nIndustry and Engineering\nGroup 72 (Continued) Lumbering\n\nLumbering in the Pacific Northwest: Douglas Fir lumber manufacture; world's largest and newest electrically operated lumber manufacturing plants. (4)\n\nLumbering Pine on the Arapaho National Forest, Colorado: How Government timber is cut under regulation. (144)\n\nMaking Railroad Ties on the Wasatch National Forest, Utah: Title Manufacture of Arkansas Soft Pine (2) From felling trees to completed product, showing each operation through the mill. (63)\n\nGathering and milling the raw product for cross-arms and conduits. (XXX, 154)\n[Pole-Pushers of Puget Sound: Land and water views of northwestern cedar industry. Thrilling and amusing incidents in the daily lives of husky pole-pushers. The Price of Progress: Splendid views of the lumber industry as a setting for a story. Romance of Hardwoods: Great hardwoods of the south; felling the trees; transforming logs into lumber and veneer. Scotia \u2014 Home of the Redwood: Lumbering. The Story of a Stick: Manufacture of yellow pine from tree to finished product, told by an old man to his grandson. Story of White Pine: Eastern white pine from virgin forest to finished products; second growth; nursery planting; white pine blister rust. Teak Logging with Elephants: In the jungles of Siam. White Pine, Beautiful and Useful: Many uses of New England white pine.]\nWhite Pine: Eastern white pine from log to lumber (144)\nWinter Logging in White Mountains (144)\nGROUP 73 Mining \u2013 Coal, Oil and Gas\nThe Story of Coal (3) Complete treatment of mining processes, including one of the world's largest coal washeries, a drift mine, and loading coal onto a river barge (142)\nOrigin of Coal (1/4) Animated drawings explaining how coal mines of today were provided by forests of centuries ago (22)\nCoal Mining (y2) Process of sub-surface mining (22)\nAnthracite (1) Early mining of coal and various methods employed today in shaft, slope and draft mining (X)\nAnthracite Coal Mining (1) Modern methods practiced in the production of anthracite coal \u2013 from mine to consumer. For sale only. (58)\nThe Burning Question (2) Anthracite mining, preparation and transportation. (XXX) A Modern Blast (1) Use of explosions in Pennsylvania surface anthracite coal stripping. (XXX, 66) Bituminous (1) Principal operations in mining and preparation of bituminous coal. Primitive and modern methods contrasted. (X) Ford Way of Coal Mining (2) Industrial and social conditions of a Ford Coal Handling at Duluth Docks (2) Huge coal docks and giant cranes handle the coal from ship to railroad car, untouched by hands. (110) Saving Coal at Home (1) Conservation of heat. (XXX, 142) Fuel (1) How three forms of fuel are drawn from the bosom of the earth- peat, coal and petroleum. (Ill A, 151) Story of Gasoline (3) Drilling, transportation and refining. (127, 142, 149) World Struggle for Oil (7) History of oil industry; transportation from ***\n\n(Note: The asterisks (***) in the text likely indicate missing or incomplete content, and are not part of the original text.)\nEarly to modern times; relative production of U.S. and foreign countries. Plentiful use of maps and diagrams. (142)\n\nThrough Oil Lands of Europe and Africa (Series of three, 3 reels each)\nBeautiful and picturesque views of the countries are shown; study in oil and delightful travelogue. (142)\n\nSeries 1: shows the oil supply of Italy, Hungary, the Danube and Romania; series 2, Poland, Greece and Egypt; series 3, Germany, France, Spain, Morocco and Algeria; oil supply of these countries and (as in the case of Morocco) how oil is imported from America.\n\nThe Story of Petroleum (4) Full account of the oil industries. (142)\nMexico and Its Oil (4) Complete survey. (142)\n\nFourth Edition\n\nADVERTISEMENT\nA symbol of service\nGENERAL ELECTRIC\nEDUCATIONAL FILMS\nare now available in both Standard 35 mm. and 16 mm. sizes. They are described and illustrated.\nIn Catalog GEB-7: Write for catalog or films to any of the following offices:\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\nVisual Instruction Section,\n1 River Road,\nSchenectady, NY,\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\n1321 Walnut Street,\nPhiladelphia, PA,\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\n230 South Clark St.,\nChicago, IL,\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\n116 New Montgomery St.,\nSan Francisco, CA,\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\nDallas, TX,\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\n84 State St.,\nBoston, MA,\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\n925 Euclid Ave.,\nCleveland, OH,\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\nSalt Lake City, UT,\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\n329 Alder St.,\nPortland, OR,\n\nGeneral Electric Co.,\n123 Spring St.,\nAtlanta, GA,\n\nGeneral Electric\nIndustry and Engineering\nGroup 73 (Continued) Mining \u2014 Coal, Oil and Gas\n***Liquid Gold of Texas (1) Story of oil production, transportation and refining. Film deals excellently with drilling process, pumping oil to surface.\nThe Age of Oil: Oil wells and oil production. (XVI, 151)\nThe Story of a Rotary Drilled Oil Well: Building a derrick and details of drilling and \"bringing in\" the oil. (142)\nModern Oil Refining: Petroleum story from drilling the well to the finished product. For sale only. (58)\nThe Story of Natural Gas: From preliminary hauling of drilling equipment to derrick construction, drilling, and laying pipe lines, compressing stations and trunk lines carrying gas to consumer cities. (142)\nGROUP 74 ~ Mining \u2014 Miscellaneous\nThe Story of Rock Drilling: Use of drills in mining, in granite quarries, and work on the 10-mile power canal of the Hydro-Electric Power Commission of Ontario. (142)\nGold Mining in Alaska: How ground is thawed by steam and how a mine is operated in Juneau. (22)\nDiamond Mines in South Africa Self-explanatory. (22, 112)\nMagic Gems A study of minerals and precious stones. Prismatic color.\nQuicksilver and Its Properties From mine to its many uses. (151)\nMining with the Llamas in Peru Vanadium and copper mining.\nSure-footed llamas carry the ore from the mines. (XXI)\nIron Ore Mining Milling, open pit and under-ground mining. (148)\nIron Ore Mining Range buildings; ore transportation \u2013 mines to\nThe Story of Sulphur From its source to its ultimate uses. (151)\nThe Story of Sulphur How it is melted 1,000 feet below the earth's surface by superheated water and forced by compressed air to surface and stored in huge vats; huge pipe lines to sulphur fields. Building of vats, blasting of hardened sulphur, and loading into box cars and ships. (142)\nSalt of the Earth: Salt mining in New York state; preparation for shipment. Salt Mining: How salt is secured for the market. Pillars of Salt: How salt is mined and refined. The Story of Asbestos: Self-explanatory.\n\nGroup 75: Quarrying\nDynamite in Quarry Work: Self-explanatory. Granite Block Paving: From quarry to pavement. Marble Fields of Carrara: Mining in one of the famous marble quarries. The Marble Industry: New Hampshire quarries. All processes shown. Scenery of surrounding country.\n\nVermont Marble: Methods of obtaining the stone and its shipment. A Sculptor's Paradise: Quarrying Carrara marble and noted buildings constructed from it in Rome, Venice, Pisa, Versailles and the Hague.\nQuarrying and Shaping Slate (2) Self-explanatory.\nMineral Aggregates (1) Handling of sand and gravel from pit to finished product (See also Group 81)\nManufactured Products and Processes\nGROUP 76 Building Materials\nThe Background (1) Manufacture and application of wall covering. (XXX)\nThe New England Home (1) Manufacture of fire-proof shingles. (102)\nBrick \u2014 From Clay to Pavement (1) Self-explanatory. (144)\nThe Manufacture and Use of Face Brick (2) The title tells it. (XXX)\nBrushin' Up (2) Growth of the paint and varnish industry. (XXX)\nThe Day of the Modern Way (1) Modern, improved methods of painting buildings and large stationary surfaces; varnishing or finishing manufactured articles. (XXX)\nStory of Portland Cement (1) How it is manufactured. Advantages of cement construction as in the Panama Canal. (83, 142)\nFourth Edition\nIndustry and Engineering\nGROUP 76 (Continued) Building Materials\nA Concrete Example (2) Large-scale building construction, as exemplified in the largest concrete structure on Manhattan Island. (154)\nHollow Building Tile (1) Uses, qualities, and methods of manufacturing. (XXX)\nTerra Cotta (2) Processes in its manufacture; the erection of a skyscraper. (XXX)\nHow Tar Is Made (1) Process as practiced in Sweden. (XI)\nGROUP 77 Clothing, Textiles and Leather\nCivilization's Fabric (2) Cotton, from field to mill; spinning and weaving. (151)\nFluff to Stuff (1) The cotton industries from field to loom. (151)\nCotton Manufacture (4) Carding and weaving shown in detail. (144)\nThirsty Cotton (2) Scientific analysis of the effect of humid air on the manufacture of cotton. (Ill)\nFrom Cottonseed to Gingham (3) Self-explanatory. (XXX)\n[1] Views of unusual laces; some historic pieces. [1] An exceptionally interesting picturization of the manufacture of lace. [127, 149]\nLace Making in France [V2] In the world's lace-making center, Le Puy. [67]\nLuzon Lingerie [1] Designing and making exquisite ladies' underwear in the Philippines. [67]\nRomance of Cloth [1] Picking, ginning and shipping cotton; weaving process of cotton; making of wool into cloth. [102]\nFrom Wool to Cloth [2] Machine carding, twisting into cloth and weaving. [144]\nA Woolen Yarn [1] Shearing, carding, spinning and weaving. [X]\nThe Woolen Industry [2] Comprehensive study of the industry. [XXX]\nWool [1] From fleece to finished cloth. [151]\nThe Story of Virgin Wool [1] From the back of the sheep to the finished product. An exceptional picture. [83]\nFrom Cocoon to Spool: Life history of the silk worm; processes involved in manufacture of silk into thread. The Silken Cities of Suwa-Ko: Silk industry of Japan; modern processes of reeling and spooling silk in large establishments. From Cocoon to Kimono: The silk industry of Japan. From Mill to Millions: Shows how silk is used for making stockings; the raising of silkworms in Japan. The Story of Linen Making: Growing of flax and manufacture of linen in France. Irish Cloth: How the famous linen and other Irish cloth is made; scenes about the mills. Changing Hides into Leather: Steps in putting a raw hide through a modern tannery. Leather: Process of tanning.\n\nFrom Cocoon to Spool: The life history of the silk worm and the processes involved in manufacturing silk into thread. The Silken Cities of Suwa-Ko: The modern silk industry in Japan, focusing on reeling and spooling silk in large establishments. From Cocoon to Kimono: An exploration of the silk industry in Japan. From Mill to Millions: A look at how silk is used to make stockings and the process of raising silkworms in Japan. The Story of Linen Making: The cultivation and manufacture of linen in France. Irish Cloth: An examination of the production of famous Irish linen and scenes from the mills. Changing Hides into Leather: The steps taken to transform a raw hide in a modern tannery. Leather: An in-depth look at the process of tanning.\nIncludes the sources of tannic acid and processes involved in tanning. Exceptionally good instructional material. (XXX, 127, 149)\n\nFrom Calves to Kiddies,\n- Shoe manufacturing. (XVII, XXX, 112)\n- The Leather Tread (1)\n- Shoes (l1^)\n- Shoe-making. (XXX)\n\nThe Birth of a Hat,\n- Early models of headgear; manufacture of a hat. (XXX)\n\nMaking a Felt Hat,\n- Making of fine hats out of hair of rabbits and beavers. (22)\n\nMaking Summer Sombreros in Manila, (1)\n- Title tells it. (67)\n- (See also Groups 1, 10)\n\nGROUP 78 Food Products,\n- The Story of Corn Flakes and All-Bran, (2)\n- How Kellogg corn flakes and All-Bran are prepared. (127)\n- The Legend of Corn, (1)\n- Its value to early settlers; manufacture of Post\n- It's All in the Shreds, (2)\n- Manufacture of Shredded Wheat. (XXX)\n- How the Miller has Changed to Meet Modern Conditions, (2 & 3)\n- Story.\nof wheat from field to family. The story of macaroni.\nHeart of the Wheat: The story of the pasta.\nAlice in Cookieland: A story of cookie manufacturing.\nINDUSTRY AND ENGINEERING\nGroup 78 (Continued) Food\nCrackers: Modern biscuit making with a short historic recital of the relation of grains to human diet.\nPrecisely as Polly: Made in one of the world's largest bakeries, picturing sanitary and scientific methods used in the preparation of a small biscuit.\nC.C.C. (Candy): Efficient methods applied in the making of chocolate-covered candies.\nMilk: Various processes which transform pure cow's milk into Carnation products.\nThe Pantry Cow: Crystallized milk, a convenient and highly nutritive household product.\nMillion Dollar Food Product: Ice-cream.\nIn the Historic Mohawk Valley: Scenics of the valley, and historic sites.\nFrom the Gardens of the World to the Tables of the World: Few of \"57 Varieties\" from seed to table.\n\nGroup 79: Metal Manufacturing\nThe Manufacture of Armco Ingot Iron: Every manufacturing process used in making of iron and steel sheets.\nFifteen Minutes with Armco Ingot Iron: Practical application of sheet iron and steel for household and industrial uses.\n\nIron and Steel: The evolution of iron and steel from mine to finished product\nThe Story of Steel: Mining, transportation of ore by rail and water, smelting and rolling mill processes; manufacture of steel products; safety activities. (142, 148)\n\nStory of Heat Treatment of Steel: Laboratory experiments with various heat-treating methods; effects; application to motor car manufacture. (142)\n[Story of Alloy Steel (2 or 4) / The Making of Steel X2: Various processes through which ore is transformed into steel. (72)\nSteel - From Ore to Rail (1): Showing the process by which iron ore is converted into steel products. (Ill A, 151)\nRolling Steel by Electricity (2): Intricacies in production of steel. (XXIX)\nThe Manufacture of High Finish Sheets (2): Depicts cold rolling and other processes in making. (5)\nMaking of Steel and Wire (5): From mining ore to finished products; woven wire fence, steel fence posts, nails, barbed wire, etc. (8)\nMaking of American Wire Rope (2): Self-explanatory. (8)\nStory of Lead Smelting (2): Self-explanatory. (142)\nStory of Lead Mining and Milling (3): Drilling, blasting and loading of lead ore; operations at mill. (142)\nTin Plate (1): Self-explanatory. (XXX)]\n[The Story of Abrasives (4) Carborundum industry. (142)]\n[Industrial Diamonds (1/4) Manufacture of carborundum in electric furnace.]\n[The Jewels of Industry (2) Story of making of modern abrasives and their use. (XXX)]\n[The Silversmith (1) How silverware is produced -- from the ore to things of beauty and utility for the home. (I, 23, 69, 156)]\n**[Beaten Gold (1) Its manufacture. (IX)]**\n[Group 80 Paper and Publications]\n***[The World of Paper (2) Epoch-making advances in art of writing, printing and papermaking from ancient to modern times. (X)]***\n[White Paper (1) Manufacture of paper. (IX)]\n***[Newsprint (1) From standing forest to finished product. (49, 151)]***\n[Paper Making (1)> Detailed study of the paper-making industry, both wood pulp and rag. For sale only. (58)]\n[The Daily Paper (1) Extensive and complicated business of publishing a newspaper. (Ill A, 151)]\n[The Making of a Great Newspaper (3)]\nFourth Edition\n\nADVERTISEMENT\nTHE MAKING OF A GREAT NEWSPAPER\nA three-reel film portraying departments of The New York Times in action day and night: gathering the news by cable, radio, and telegraph; the make-up editor placing each story in the page; receiving advertisements and preparing the copy for publication; the composing room; stereotype department; press room printing 400,000 papers, 24-page size per hour; trucks leaving with consignments for railroad, boat, and newsstand \u2014 the complete story of the making of a great newspaper visualized.\n\n\"The Making of a Great Newspaper\" may be shown without charge except for expressage on films to and from.\nThe point of distribution. All films are standard width, non-inflammable stock.\n\nThe New York Times\nTimes Square, New York\nor\nRowland Rogers Studios\n71 West 23rd Street, New York City\n\nIndustry and Engineering\nGroup 80 (Continued) Paper and Publications\n\nThe Art of Monoprinting (V) Demonstrated by a Sicilian painter. (22)\n\nThe Making of a Book (S) The various processes through which a book must go from linotype machine to bindery, with the latest improved machinery and up-to-date equipment. (19, 45)\n\nYour Book (2) Evolution of the book; how books are made today at the Athenaeum Press. (XVII)\n\nMaking a Sales Book (1) From the making of the electrotype to the finished book. (99)\n\nFrom Forest to Fireside (1) The Youth's Companion and how it is produced. Logging in Maine woods, paper manufacturing. (XXX, 160)\nThe Romance of Making a Modern Magazine (2) The \"Dearborn Independent\" from raw stock to finished product.\nRecord Makers of Business (1) Carbon paper manufacture.\nThe Absorbing Story of Thirsty Fibre (1) Paper making from felling of trees to the packing of the completed product; manufacture of absorbent paper towels.\nGROUP 81 Miscellaneous Manufacture\nStory of Fireclay Refractories (4) Self-explanatory.\nThe Romance of Glass (1) Discovery of glass by the Phoenicians; manufacture of glass jars; comparing hand-blowing with modern machine methods: cold pack canning.\nThe Story of Bakelite (2) Manufacture and use of one of the most remarkable materials of the present age.\nThe Story of Making a Rubber Tire (1) From the gathering of the rubber gum to the finished product. For sale only.\nThe Making and Installation of Culverts (3) Comprehensive picture of this new industry (metal culverts).\nThe Story of Compressed Air (2) Self-explanatory.\nStory of Dynamite (2) Manufacture of dynamite from raw materials to finished product. Work of explosives in mining and construction. Dynamite, A Basic Material of Modern Civilization (6) Processes of manufacture, and methods of use.\nThe Serpent's Tooth (1) The story of the manufacture of hand saws.\n** The Meteor (2) The birth and development of the cross cut saw.\nThe Making of a Good Shovel (1) Manufacture of hand shovels from raw materials to finished product. (XXI)\nSpirit of Progress (2) Two million parts a day; modern methods and equipment in a screw products shop.\nUses of Wire Rope (2) Correct way to erect a woven wire fence. (8)\nThe Crossroads (2) Manufacture of the Corona typewriter.\nWorld's Records (1) Story of your ink bottle tells \u2014 on manufacture of Carter's inks and adhesives. (XXX, 29)\nHow A Dixon Lead Pencil is Made (1 or 2) From the graphite mines located near the historic Fort Ticonderoga, to the finished product. (44, 83)\nSuds (1) Washing through the ages, featuring the manufacturing of modern washing machines. (149)\nSpanish Moss (1/4) Gathering of this moss of the Everglades; its manufacture into mattresses. (XX)\nFor the Feet of a Nation (2) Composition and manufacture of linoleum.\nOur National Bread Box (1) History of development of the paper carton with authentic details. (126)\nAmerican Matchmaking (1A) Making matches in large American factory.\nT. C. (Your Sixth Sense) (1) Effect of temperature on human beings,\nThe origin of the thermometer and the method of calibration (XVII)\nA Trip Through the N.C.R. Factory (2)\nThe National Cash Register Making (1)\nIn the factory at Dayton, Ohio; the machining operations of making parts. (99)\n\nA Movie Trip Through Filmland (2)\nCinema tour of Kodak Park, and interesting views of manufacturing film stock from raw cotton and bars of silver to finished strip ready for the camera. (21)\n\nStory of a Watch (2)\nWhole process, by modern methods. (XXX, 142)\n\nIndustry and Engineering\nGROUP 81 (Continued)\nMiscellaneous Manufacture\n\nThe Guardian of Time (2)\nWatch-making. (XXX)\n\nTime (1)\nA color masterpiece giving the history of man's efforts to measure time, as recorded in the timepieces of all ages. (IV, XX, 56, 15,6)\n\nMusic Factories (1)\nShowing the manufacture of mechanical musical instruments. (151)\nMaking the first saxophone by Sax in his old French workshop; Manufacture of modern musical instruments. (\"Fine Art of Making Musical Instruments\", XXX, 14, 149)\n\nThe Making of a Piano, Pipe Organ and Harp (\"The Making of a Piano, Pipe Organ and Harp\", 8)\nMaking the Harp and Piano (\"Making the Harp and Piano\", 148)\nMaking the Organ (\"Making the Organ\", 148)\nImmortalizing Musical Artists and How Their Work is Preserved for Posterity (\"Immortalized\", XXX)\n\nThe Violin Speaks (\"The Violin Speaks\", I)\nStructure and manufacture. (The Violin Speaks, IX)\n\nAids to Cupid: Making perfumes in Southern France. Prizma color.\n\"My Lady's Perfume\": Picking flowers and converting them into perfumes.\nFactories on the Riviera. (IX)\n\n(For welfare work in industrial plants, see Group 124)\n\nGROUP 82 INDUSTRIAL ARTS\nPottery\nThe Art of Pottery Traced Down Through the Ages; A Trip through a Modern Pottery Plant. For sale only. (Pottery, I)\nIn a China Shop: Casting and decorating porcelain. (1) Magic Clay: The method of making Rookwood pottery in the workshops near Cincinnati. (IX) Making Lenox China: Self-explanatory. (83) The Most Ancient Art in History: The growth of the pottery industry in the U.S. (y2) Scenes made at the oldest American pottery, Flemington, N.J. (22) The Potter's Wheel: Porcelain for electrical uses. (X) Girl Pottery Makers of the Caribbean: The art of native potters. (V2) Sevres-Porcelain: Showing the interesting stages of porcelain making. (1) The Story of the Willow Plate: A unique and artistic presentation of a story on the back of a Chinese design; the platter first appears with the figures static, then drama is enacted with the stationary border of the plate. (77) Uncommon Clay: Manufacture of pottery. (IX)\nGROUP 83 Miscellaneous\nAncient Industries (1) Arts and trades that have survived the centuries.\nArt in Bookbinding (y2) Demonstration of fine bookbinding.\nHow Museum Groups are Made (y2) Stages in preparation of a group of caribou for Brooklyn Museum of Arts and Sciences.\nA Modern Miracle Worker (V2) Artist of American Museum of Natural History works on an artificial magnolia group.\n\nLITERATURE AND DRAMA\nGROUP 84 Literature and Drama\nAlibaba and the Forty Thieves (1) Picturizing the famous story. (112)\nAlice Adams (7) Based on the small town romance by Booth Tarkington. With Florence Vidor. (II)\nAmerican Author Series (Series of 12) The films visualize a brief sketch of each author's life and then proceed to dramatize one or more of his best-known and beloved works. (XVI, 151)\nWilliam Cullen Bryant: Scenes selected to interpret lines from Thanatopsis and The Crowded Street.\n\nJames Fenimore Cooper: Chiefly scenes of country which formed settings for Leatherstocking Tales.\n\nNathaniel Hawthorne: Dramatization is from The House of Seven Gables.\n\nLiterature and Drama\nGROUP 84 (Continued)\n\nOliver Wendell Holmes: Pictorial biography; dramatization of The Height of the Ridiculous.\n\nWashington Irving: Views of the author's home and characteristic scenes from Rip Van Winkle and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.\n\nHenry Wadsworth Longfellow: Sketch of his life; scenes from The Village Blacksmith.\n\nJames Russell Lowell: Brief biography, followed by scenes of The Courtin' from the Bigelow Papers.\nEdgar Allan Poe: With the acting out of Annabel Lee.\nMark Twain: With scenes made famous by his writings, and a dramatization of The Jumping Frog.\nWalt Whitman: An effort to put the philosophy of the author in film form.\nJohn Greenleaf Whittier: Illustrating Whittier with lines from The Barefoot Boy and Maud Muller.\nAmerican Literature: Dramatic situations from Poe's The Goldbug and from Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter.\nThe Ancient Mariner: The Coleridge story, with a \"modern\" beginning and ending. (IX)\nAnnabel Lee: Exquisite production based on Edgar Poe's famous poem \"Annabel Lee.\" (5)\nAntony and Cleopatra: The classic story. (77)\nAs No Man Has Loved: Excellent screen version of \"The Man Without a Country.\" (IX)\nAunt Tabitha: Comedy, comparing a present-day girl with her aunt.\nThe Barefoot Boy (6) - Based on Whittier's immortal poem. Cast includes John Bowers, Marjorie Daw, Tully Marshall, Raymond Hatton.\nBeloved Vagabond (5) - Picturization of famous Locke novel. (VHI)\nBill (3) - A gem of screen acting. Motion picture version of Anatole France's Crainquebille. (XIX)\nThe Bond Boy (6) - George Washington Ogden's novel. Acted by Richard Barthelmess and Mary Alden. (XIX)\nBreak, Break, Break! (1) - Drama based on Tennyson's poem. (I)\nThe Brook (1) - Picturization of Tennyson's poem. (XXI)\nThe Call of the Wild (7) - Picturization of Jack London's book, admirably done. (XV)\nThe Call of the Wild (5) - Five-reel version with Rin Tin Tin. (79)\nThe Child of M'sieu' (5) - Baby Marie Osborne in a story suggested by Browning's Pippa Passes. (37, 56, 112)\nA Christmas Carol (1) - Taken from Charles Dickens' Story. (49)\nThe Courtship of Miles Standish (5 or 6) - Dramatization of Longfellow's poem with geographical and historical accuracy. Not the version with Charles. The Courtship of Miles Standish (9) - Longfellow's poem provides the incident of John Alden and Priscilla, expanded by Charles Ray to include the story of the Pilgrims and the voyage of the Mayflower. Valuable for schools as a study of the Pilgrims and their experiences.\n\nThe Cricket on the Hearth (7) - Vivid presentation of Charles Dickens' English background and true Dickens characters.\n\nDavid Copperfield (7) - The English background and true characters of Charles Dickens.\n\nThe Deerslayer (5) - J. Fenimore Cooper's story.\n\nDombey and Son (6) - Charles Dickens' classic, filmed in original English.\n\nThe Enchanted Cottage (8) - Pinero's play acted by Richard Barthelmess and Maureen O'Sullivan. A screen classic.\n\nEnoch Arden (4) - Version of the classic (79)\nA Fairy Foreland (1) Picturization of Tennyson's idyl, The Brook.\nHansel and Gretel (3) The well-known story. (49, 79, 112)\nHeidi of the Alps (2) Delightful rendition of Spyri's popular tale. Madge Evans in title role. In Prizma color. (XX, XXI)\nA Hoosier Romance (5) With Jefferson and Colleen Moore. From the Riley story. (XI, 112)\nThe Hoosier Schoolmaster (4, 5 & 6) The literary classic by Edward Eggleston of settler days in Indiana. (I, 19, 23, 42, 69/79, 156)\nHunting Ground of Hiawatha (1) Longfellow's poem picturized. (151)\nIn the Palace of the King (6) Dramatization of F. Marion Crawford's story laid in the reign of Phillip II of Spain. (79)\nJack Knife Man (7) Ellis Parker Butler's story of spiritual achievement, filmed on its exact locale on the Mississippi. (I, 23, 69)\nFourth Edition\nLiterature and Drama\nJane Eyre (3) From novel of Charlotte Bronte. (S3)\nKeeper of the Bees (7) Gene Stratton Porter's last work. Well done. (VIII)\nKidnapped (5) R.L. Stevenson's story. (77)\nLady Windermere's Fan (5) Oscar Wilde's world-famous play. Not the recent film. - (56)\nLast Days of Pompeii (6) The classic story. (77)\nThe Little Match Girl (1) Hans Andersen's tale of the ragged child of the city streets, done by Madge Evans, with a happy ending. Prizma color.\nLittle Orphant Annie (5) James Whittier Riley's poem. (49)\nThe Little Red School House (7) Hal Reid's play. (19)\nMaud Muller (2) Idealized version of Whittier's poem. Rich girl reads poem to her lover who is poor and afraid to ask her hand in marriage. (XV)\nMemories (1) Picturization of Whittier's poem. Prizma color. (28)\nA Christmas Carol (3) Dickens' famous Christmas story.\nOld Scrooge (4) A wonderful characterization of the miser in Dickens' A Christmas Carol.\nPeck's Bad Boy (5) Delightful picturization of the famous story.\nPeter Pan (10) Barrie's story done as only the movies could do it.\nPrince and Peasant (5) Dramatic story founded on the opera The Dumb Girl of Portici.\nSherlock Holmes (Series of 4) (IV)\nThe Man with the Twisted Lip (2)\nThe Resident Patient (2)\nThe Beryl Coronet (2)\nThe Devil's Foot (2)\nSilas Marner (7) Frederick Warde in George Eliot's classic.\nSilas Marner (6) A recent and well-done rendering.\nThe Sky Pilot (7) Dramatic picturization of Ralph Connor's great epic.\nSonny (6) George V. Hobart's play acted by Richard Barthelmess. (19)\nSpartacus (6) The classic story.\nTimothy's Quest (7) Kate Wiggins' simple, homespun story, overflowing with sentiment and kindly humor. (I, II, 69, 156)\nTreasure Island (7) Robert Louis Stevenson's epic of adventure. (42)\nUncle Tom's Cabin (5) Harriet Beecher Stowe's immortal story. (79, 156)\nVanity Fair (6) Thackeray's story. (77)\nThe Vicar of Wakefield (6) Oliver Goldsmith's story faithfully reproduced.\nThe White Sister (12) Marion Crawford's novel acted by Lillian Gish. Directed by Henry King and produced in Italy. (19)\nNATURAL SCIENCE\nGROUP 85\nPLANT LIFE\nPlant Life\nCarnivorous Plants (1/4) How insect-eating plants obtain their prey. (22)\nA Cottage Garden (1) Growth of flowers with stop-motion photography, Prizma color. (156)\n\nWilliam Tell (1) Schiller's immortal drama of the Swiss legendary hero.\n\nPlant Life\nCarnivorous Plants (1/4) This text discusses how insect-eating plants acquire their prey. (22)\nA Cottage Garden (1) This text showcases the growth of flowers using stop-motion photography and Prizma color. (156)\nDo You Know Beans? A scientific film telling the life story of a bean seed, from planting to shoot appearance. Seed structure explained and germination processes demonstrated. (1)\n\nAn Enchanted Garden Analyzed-motion pictures showing growth and blossoming of dogwood, poppies, iris, etc. (XI, 22)\n\nEternal Nature Cycle of life in a growing plant, from pollenization to maturity. (22)\n\nField and Wayside How milkweed blossoms hold captive many an insect guest; the tragic end of the snowy tree cricket; the haunts of the common tick; where the ladybug comes from; some common spiders and their lairs; how the soldier beetle, despite gall flies, bravely attempts to put forth blossoms. (134)\n\nKnow a Garden Prizma photography of famous gardens in New Jersey. (XX)\n\nNature's Garlands Beautiful flowers of many varieties in natural colors. (1)\nThe Best, the new Super DeVry projector with a 1000 watt lamp and double forced ventilation system, operates even when the stop-on-film shutter is used for stills. It includes more exclusive features than all other projectors combined. All operating parts of the same basic design and tempered steel, it is today's ultimate in semi-portable motion picture projection.\n\nThe Super DeVry Projector\nWeighs 38 lbs.\nNo tripod or cranking required, just press the button\nHolds 100 feet of full standard theatre size film - 55 feet at one winding\n\nThe DeVry\nWeight, 0 lbs. \u2014\nDeVry Stereopticons, like the DeVry Motion Picture Projectors, feature projection mechanisms reaching the degree of precision and durability.\nType T \u2014 folds into its own case \u2014 weighs 10 lbs.\nType M \u2014 for school rooms in daylight \u2014 specs unknown.\nThe DeVry Summer School of Visual Education, August 1940, Fourth Edition\n\nADVERTISEMENT\n\nThe DeVry Portable Motion Picture Projector was the first and is still the only portable projector of professional quality. It is the most popular portable motion picture projector in the world, with over 12,000 having already been sold \u2013 more than all other makes combined.\n\nNo finer steel, nor expert workmanship goes into the construction of any projector made \u2013 professional or otherwise.\n\nLasts the Longest\n\nInside The DeVry Portable Motion Picture Projector\n\nWeighs 22 lbs.\n\nMake Your Own Movies\n\nThe DeVry Movie Camera is guaranteed to possess all the desirable features essential to professional straight work motion picture photography, but it is built for amateurs and at the very low price of $150.00, is the equal of any standard motion picture camera selling up to $500.00.\nCamera: 6.2 inches, the idea of portability taken further than hitherto thought possible by professional performance.\nPrices: $60.00 for the model with best travel kit, $47.00 for the brilliant light system (case extra). Free to teachers and ministers, write for program.\n1067 Center St., Chicago, IL.\n\nNatural Science Group 85 (Continued) Natural Science - Plant Life\nOpening Buds: Actual birth of leaves and flowers in stop-motion photography; how light affects plant growth. (1)\nSeeds and Seed Dispersal: One of the most remarkable subjects ever produced. Study of structures of various seeds as an adaptation to dispersal; exceptional micro-photography; processes of flower and seed development shown in their entirety by timed camera exposures. (49, 151)\nPlant Life and Habits: Germination of seeds; plants with animal intelligence. (1)\n(1) Spring: How life begins in the early Spring. Leaves and flowers sprouting. (22) A Springtime Miracle: Wild flowers of Yosemite photographed by stop-motion. (22) Titles from Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal.\n\n(1) Where Plants Live: Conditions which account for main plant associations.\n(1) Wood Wisdom: Structure of various kinds of wood; different qualities of \"hardwood\" and \"softwood\"; cell building in growing trees; development of decay through growth of fungi. (144)\n\nGROUP 86 ANIMAL LIFE:\nDomestic Animals:\nCats: The Cat family in general including lions, tigers, mountain lions, bob cats; habits and pranks of the domestic cat. (XXI)\nFriends of Man: Dogs of all breeds. (H1A, 151)\n** Our Dog Friends: Dogs the only actors and many intelligent \"stunts\"\n(22) Monty Works the Wires - A bright, wholesome comedy about a sky-terrier and his tales to his puppy son. (XVI)\nThe Horse - Ancestors, Indian and his pony, wild horses of the plains, development of some of the best breeds of today. (XXI)\nHigh Steppers - Types of light horses, for saddle and driving, that won prizes at a horse show in an eastern city. (144)\nKentucky Thoroughbreds - The care and training of horses. (111A, 151)\nThe Maverick - An autobiography of a horse. (42, 49, 111A, 151)\nOur Four-Footed Pals - An intimate study that appeals to all animal lovers. Our Four-Footed Helpers - One of the Screen Studies. Description of ruminants on which man chiefly depends for food and clothing. (XV)\nHoofs and Horns - Revelations concerning ungulates. (111A)\n\nGroup 87 - Wild Animals.\n[1] American Bears: Various bears of the North American continent, photographed by Raymond Ditmars.\n[1] At Home with the Polar Bear: Polar bears in their native haunts; capture of two cubs and a bit of their life in the zoo.\n[1] Babies of the Wild Animals: Their nature and habits. For sale only.\n[1] Babies in the Zoo: Wide range of animals covered.\n[1] Beasts of Prey: Animal subjects in the zoo, photographed with remarkable naturalness at close range; titles good for informational material. (151)\n[1] Dangerous Animals: Portrait studies of ferocious wild animals. (22)\n[1] Elkland: Herds of elk and wild life in Wyoming. (156)\n[1] Glimpse into the Animal Kingdom: Animals at the Philadelphia Zoo.\n[1] Gypsy Scientists: Pack-train journey through Cascade Mts. Scenic views and studies of mountain animals. (22)\n[1] The Last of the Bison: Self-explanatory. (XXX)\n[Moose in Marabach: Wild Moose in Canadian Northwest. (56) Nature's Armour: How animals are protected by heavy skins \u2014 elephants, hippopotamus, rhinoceros, and crocodile. (22) Nearest to Man: Studies of gorilla, chimpanzee and orangutan. (22) Our Native Bears: In their natural and captive state. (XXI) Quaint Denizens of the Bronx Zoo: Rare animals in the Bronx Zoo. (1) Uncommon Guests: Rare animals in New York Zoo. (151) When Elk Comes Down: Elks in the national forests of Montana \u2014 their protection. (144) Wild Beasts of Borneo: Wild animal story. (VI, 42) Fourth Edition Natural Science GROUP 87 (Continued) ANIMAL LIFE Wild Animals VWith Our Fur Bearing Animals: Fox-farming, seal industry, smaller animals including the raccoon, skunk and otter. (XXI) Who's Who in the Zoo: Strange South American animals \u2014 llama]\nCondor, tapir, ant-eater and others (67)\nGroup 88: Smaller Animals\nAnimal Engineer: The beaver at work \u2014 cutting and transporting logs, building house and dam (22)\nBr'er Rabbit and His Pals: The rabbit as an example of rodents in general \u2014 his structure and modes of living. One of the Screen Studies\nChumming with Chipmunks: Characteristics of little striped chipmunk\nA Frogland Frolic: Interesting and amusing study of different kinds of frogs and their habits (22)\nLife Function of Animals: The Frog (1)\nThe Life History of Frogs and Toads: Traced step by step with necessary contrasts drawn. Excellent for school use. Scientifically prepared (XVI, 151)\nNature's Rogues: Habits and life of skunks and weasels (22)\nPigmy Circus: Turtle, lizard, chameleon, Ceylonese, walking leaf, tree toad, mice. Photographed by Raymond Ditmars.\n\nSome Cold-Blooded Mexicans: Closeups of Mexican lizards, horned toads, desert tortoises, and other curious creatures.\n\nToads: Complete life-cycle of the common garden toad and tree toad.\n\nTurtles and Tortoises of All Lands: An intimate study by Raymond Ditmars of this strange family of animals.\n\nGROUP 89 Insects and Bugs\n\nThe Ant: Underground passages below the ant hill; the physical structure of the ants themselves, and life history of the tiny animal. (VI)\n\nThe Ant Lion: Life history of the \"Doodle Bug,\" given in an interesting manner. (VI)\n\nAnts, Nature's Craftsmen: Life cycle; structure of ant dwellings, and remarkable way in which the ant \"workers\" care for the young as they hatch. (XV)\n[Battle of the Ants: How colonies live and propagate, The Beetle: Battle for existence with other insects, The Black-and-Orange Garden Spider: Complete metamorphosis, The Blue Fly: Life history, dangerous role in carrying germs, enemies among birds, fish, spiders and frogs, The Butterfly: Various stages of metamorphosis from egg to full-grown, The Butterfly: Life history from egg to caterpillar, cocoon and butterfly, Bumble Bee: Community life and habits, Dexterity and Mimicry of Insects: Studies of flies and other insects, Eccentricities of the Wasp and Bee: Their habitations and modes of living, The Fly: From Tolhurst's \"Secrets of Life\" series, Excellent microscopic studies]\n\nOr simply:\n\nBattle of the Ants, Beetle, Black-and-Orange Garden Spider, Blue Fly, Butterfly (2 parts), Bumble Bee, Dexterity and Mimicry of Insects, Eccentricities of the Wasp and Bee, Fly (from \"Secrets of Life\") - topics covered in the text.\n[Fortune Builders: Life story of the silk moth (XVI, 151)]\n[Giants of Industry: Study of fly and ant life (XVI, 151)]\nThe Greenbottle Fly (1) - Work of this insect, one of nature's scavengers, is traced in this reel (134)\nThe Industrious Ant (1) - Remarkable microscopic study of ants at work (XVI)\nInhabitants of a Hedgerow (1) - Peculiarities of many kinds of insects\n[The Labyrinth Spider: Life history (22)]\n[Lace-Wing Fly: Interesting study of aphis-lion and lace-wing fly life history (134)]\nNATURAL SCIENCE\nCROUP 89 (Continued) ANIMAL LIFE\nInsects and Bugs\n[Lair of the Spider: How female spider lives, how it kills other spiders, flies and insects (22)]\nLarge White or Cabbage Butterfly (1) - History of eggs, larvae and caterpillar. Useful for biology classes (XXV)\nThe Function of Life of Animals \u2014 The Grasshopper (1) - Biological study\n[151] Grasshopper, [1] Life History of Gnats, Mosquitoes, and Other Malaria Insects: Their method of reproduction and destruction; their action on man. [11 LA, 151]\n[1] Life History of the Monarch Butterfly: Every stage of the metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly. [134]\nThe Life of a Moth: \"Story of the moth, as revealed by Raymond Ditmars.\" [XX]\nMonstrosities of Pondland: Unusual insect breeding and development.\n[1] The Mosquito: Details of every stage in the life history of the mosquito, and methods for its control. Excellent for classroom use.\n[1] The Most Wonderful Insect in the World: Periodical cicada which appears after 17 years underground for a short period of aerial life. [144]\n[1] Nature's Handiwork: Collection of remarkable views showing various phases in life story of caterpillars, moths and butterflies. Particular emphasis.\nPeacock Caterpillar, (49, 151)\nTent Caterpillar - life cycle, (22)\nOrb Weavers - This spider building its intricate web, trapping prey and storing it away for future consumption, (22)\nOutwitting the Ant, (22) - How ant-lion traps and destroys ants,\nPond and Stream Life, (2) - Close range study of dragonfly, pond-snails,\nPoor Butterfly, (1) - Many varieties and their colors, photographed by the Prizma process, (XX, 156)\nPreparedness Among Ants, (V2) - Community life, industrial activities, engineering ability and military talents, (22)\nSamia Cecropia, (1) - Life story of the \"giant American silkworm,\" admirably made for school use, (134)\nThe Scale of Mother Love, CV2) - Spiders and the preparation of their egg sacs,\nSilk Worm, (1) - History, life and habits with beautiful pictures of the various moths, (18)\nSinging and Stinging: Fine microscopic presentation of the life of a mosquito and its destruction. (XYI)\n\nSkilled Insect Artisans: How a caterpillar weaves its cocoon and develops into a moth. Atlas silk moth; red admiral caterpillar. (22)\n\nThe Spider: Remarkable views of the tiny subject and method of spinning. One of the Secrets of Life Series. (VI)\n\nThe Spider: Remarkable views of the spider, web, etc. (XX)\n\nThe Spider: Remarkable views of the tiny subject and method of spinning. (I)\n\nSpiders and Their Victims: The spider's battle for existence. (XVI, 151)\n\nStrange Caterpillars: Their means of sustenance. Collecting and preserving butterflies. (XYI, 151)\n\nWasps: The life cycle of a wasp, with particular attention to nest-building and stocking with spider food. (134)\n\nWild Creatures that Mimic: Closeup studies of leaf-winged insect, Malayan \"walking leaf,\" Sumatran stick insect, and American \"walking stick.\" (%)\nFrom Protoplasm to Human Organism: Microscopic study of one-celled life, life-processes in the cell, leading to the study of cell structure of the human body.\n\nGetting Acquainted with Bacteria: Essential facts about bacteria; three typical shapes; how they are grown and handled in the laboratory.\n\nHow Life Begins (Fourth Edition)\nPart I: How life begins in protozoan, yeast, plant (geraniums, sweet peas)\nPart II: How life begins in sea-urchin; life story of swallow-tail butterfly\nPart III: Life story of frog\nPart IV: Life story of a chick and white rat\n\nNatural Science\nGROUP 90\nMicroscopic Life (Continued)\n\"Secrets of Life\" series by Tolhurst (VI)\nInfusoria - A drop of pond water filmed through a high-power microscope; animal and vegetable organisms.\nLife Functions of Animals, No. 1 - Biological study of amoeba. Ideal for classroom use.\nLife Functions of Animals, No. 2 - Biological study of the hydra.\nThe Living World - Microscopic biological study. A sequel to How Life Begins.\n\nPart I Composition of protoplasm; difference between living and non-living matter.\nPart II Characteristic activities of living things.\nPart III Adaptation of protoplasm to its environment.\nPart IV Cycles of life and meaning of heredity.\nNature's Sex Problems - Biological study of microscopic animals.\nSeeing the Unseen - Study of minute organisms by means of greatly enlarged photographs.\nAn Unseen World (1) Microscopic life found in water; cell-division, method of feeding and navigation.\nSome Monsters of the Farm (22) Microscopic studies in motion of the gorgeous eyes of frog, grasshopper, spider and katydid.\nStudies in Micro-Biology (1) Highly absorbing phases of life invisible to the naked eye.\n\nGroup 91 Birds\nAnne's Aigrette (1) How egrets have been almost exterminated by plume hunters; egrets in a Federal bird refuge, a great cypress swamp in Arkansas. (144)\nBirds of Prey (1) Sparrows, hawks, condor, eagle. One of the \"Screen Studies.\" (XV)\nThe Buzzard (1) How it lives and rears its young: how strong it kills off the weaker nestlings. (22)\nThe Menace and Its Destroyer (Y2) Strange-looking African secretary-bird. (Remainder of text is incomplete)\nThe Ostrich: Study of this bird from hatching to full-grown adult; their habits and use of feathers. (XXI)\nOwls: Different varieties. (XX)\nPeter the Raven: Hatched in a cliff nest, but is bagged and sold; becomes sufficiently domestic to enjoy playing tricks. (22)\nThe Sparrow Hawk: Life history and habits. (22)\nWater Birds of the Gulf States: Filmed off the Florida Keys. Terns, gulls, pelicans; splendid study of the heron. (XXI)\nThe White Owl: History and habits of these strange birds, photographed at night; nesting habits, methods of hunting and manner of living. (22)\nGroup 92: Small Birds\nBaby Songbirds at Mealtime: Nesting and feeding habits of birds belonging chiefly to the finch and sparrow families; nest of the long-tailed tomtit. Well adapted to nature study. (XV)\nCuckoo's Secret: Life history of the cuckoo; how it lays eggs in other birds' nests. (1)\nBirds: nests, young raised by foster parents, cuckoo wreaks home of parents. (22)\nNo Regular Bird (Y2) Life of the hummingbird. (22)\nThe Rook: how rook builds nest, rears young, kills off obnoxious pests. (22)\nSong Birds as Citizens: familiar song birds at close range, suggestions for their preservation and encouragement in the neighborhood. (22)\nTree-Top Concert Singers: swallow, robin, titmouse, kingfisher in natural surroundings. (22)\nBird Life of Louisiana: closeups of nests, eggs, fledglings. (63)\nBirds of Passage: beautiful record of the annual migration of birds of northern Europe down the Nile to Abyssinia. Made by Bengt Berg, famous Swedish ornithologist. (XV)\nNatural Science\nGROUP 93 General Birds\nBirds of the Air: Swallows, sparrows, red-shouldered hawks, nightingales, chewinks, redwinged blackbirds, in tinted colors. (XXI)\nBirds of the Farallones: Wild birds of the Pacific coast in their natural environment. (1) - (28)\nChildren of Nature: How young birds are brought up; methods of escape by running, flying, swimming, etc. (1) (22)\nFeathers: Beauties of bird plumage. In natural colors. Arranged by the American Museum of Natural History. (XX, 56)\nInfant Welfare in Birdland: Comparison of birds near sea and away from the sea; kittiwakes, herring gulls, guillemots, shearwaters and black-backed gulls, woodpeckers and their young. (1) (22)\nA Little Love Nest: Unusual bird pictures. (1) (56)\nNational Bird Refuges: Trip on Government patrol boat to Federal bird refuges on Islands in the Gulf of Mexico, off coast of Louisiana; brown pelicans. (1)\nRoyal terns, laughing gulls, black skimmers, and others (144). Native Birds (1) - Birds of the United States (49). Nature's Gliders (1) - Study of flight of birds: gulls, gannets, wild swans, cranes, and other birds flying (22). Our Common Birds (1) - Study of our native birds in their natural haunts. For sale only (58). Our First Flyers (Y2) - Evolution of feathered creatures of today from pterodactyl of prehistoric times (22). Paradise for Birds (1) - Malheur Lake Reservation in Oregon, set aside as refuge for wild fowl and birds of the northwestern states (22).\n\nGROUP 94 - Fish and Sea Life\nThe Crab Family (1) - Interesting facts about hermit, spider, fiddler crab, and other members of that family. (XXI)\nThe Crayfish and the Stickleback (1) - Splendid study of the crayfish and stickleback.\n\"interesting views of 'the fish that builds a nest.' (XV) Cuttle Fish (Study of this deep-sea fish and its unique defense. (XX)) Depths of the Sea (Undersea life; monsters and midgets of the deep. (XX)) Dwellers of the Deep (The New York Aquarium offers most interesting sights. (49)) Fathoms Deep (Miracle and tragedy of sea life are shown; octopus, conger eel, sea anemone, star fish, rosy feather star fish, pipefish, gurnard and other forms of undersea life. (22)) Marauders of the High Seas (Ferocious sea-dwellers and their deadly methods of attacking their victims. (22)) Molluscs (From the Pathe Screen Studies. (XV)) Neptune's Neighbors (Tropical fish taken under ocean by, sub-sea camera. Prizma color. (XX, 56, 156)) Out of the Sea (Sea fish and fishing. (56))\"\n[The Royal Chinook: Life history of the salmon. (XV)\nThe Sea Birds and undersea life dependent upon it; analyzes wave motion and its erosive effect on the sea coast. (22)\nSea Shore: Pictures of seashore taken after tide recedes; shows sea anemones, crabs, snails and other sea animals \u2014 sea urchins, star fish, brittle star, hermit crab and others. (22)\nThe Silvery Salmon: Life and adventures of the gamest fish in the great northwest. (49)\nSubmarine Gardens: Undersea photographs taken off coast of West Indies; divers hunting for \"elkhorn\" coral, etc. (22)\nSubmarine Life (Series of 3): (I)\nAll Sorts of Jellyfish: (1) Crabs, Lobsters and Crayfish: (1) Jellyfish and Sea Anemones: (1)\nTragedy of the Sea: (1) Views of spider crabs fighting for food; how smaller crabs feed on dead crabs. (22)]\nArtificial propagation and restocking of trout; good views of work at hatchery. (IV, XX, 28, 156)\nUnselfish: Beautiful sea-shells and articles made from them.\nWater Babies: Creatures that take to the water. (151)\nNatural Science\nGroup 98 (Continued: Anatomy and Structural Physiology)\nAdaptation (1): Of various life forms to their surroundings. (18)\nAnimal Camouflage (1): Study of some of nature's most interesting adaptations for protection. (XV)\nAnimal Intelligence (1): Study of trained animals, showing results of kindness and care. (XXI)\nThe Animal World (Series of 4, may be used separately) (XX)\n1. Prehistoric Animals, 2. Large Animals of Sea and Jungle, 3. Birds, 4. Mountain Animals and Those of Cold Regions\nBirds and Butterflies (1): Complete study of various kinds. (I)\nBirds and Animal Life of Yellowstone Park, Self-explanatory.\nBirds and Flowers: Tropical birds and opening flowers. Prizma color.\nCircus Animals: Trained animals put through their tricks; how wild animals are unloaded from the ship. (XXI)\nA Day with John Burroughs: Secrets of birds and animals. (28)\nEvolution: (3 & 5) Careful scientific treatment of the subject. Exceedingly well done. (XIX, 151)\nFamiliar Friends: Animal studies. (151)\nThe Four Seasons: One of the most remarkable nature study pictures ever filmed. Response of animal life to a different environment from one season to next. Beautifully photographed, and titled with real artistry.\nFrogs and Frills: How caterpillars, birds, fish and others camouflage their bodies to match their surroundings. (22)\nHandling Animals at the Zoo: Humorous portrayal of characteristics. (1)\nHatching and Transformation (111A)\nDevelopment of the chick from incubation to hatching; salmon and halibut in their steps of hatching and growth; metamorphosis of dragon fly and butterfly. (XXI)\nHands vs. Feet (1)\nComparison of use of hands and feet by man and animals; monkey, lion, bear, kangaroo, sea lion, and others. (22)\nLiving Natural History (Series of 42 reels)\nA series systematically arranged for teaching, in zoological sequence. May be secured on a long-term basis.\nMain Street in Nature's Wonderland (1)\nLife among prairie dogs, bees, and ant lion; how they live, breed, and prey on others. (22)\nThe Motherhood of Nature (1)\nHow young animals are cared for. (I)\nNature's Nurseries (1)\nParents and young of fish, spiders, alligators, hummingbirds, dogs, deer, sheep, and bears. (22)\nThe River: Aquatic life and bird life near the banks of the English River. Snakes and Their Habits: Rattlesnakes, blacksnakes, copperheads, puff-adders; extracting poison venom for medicinal purposes, operation of poison fangs. The Struggle for Existence: Plants and animals that prey upon each other. Studies in Animal Motion: Motions of kangaroo, frog, deer, lamb, gull, sea lions, and others; slow motion photography. Turtles and Birds: Green turtles, humming birds, the American eagle. Us Animals Must Stick Together: Flocks of geese, sea lion families, sheep, seagulls, cormorants, puffers, and others. Vegetarians: Animals that live on vegetable matter only. A Visit to a Birdshop: Assortment of animal life found there; particular interest for specimens in the aquarium section. Micro-photography: Excellent.\nAnd most carefully done. (XVI, 151)\nWas Darwin Right? (1) Varied types of our supposed ancestors. (151)\nWilling Captives (1) Some interesting scenes at the Zoo. (151)\n\nPhysics\nGROUP 96 Physics\nThe air pressure in which we live (%) Laboratory experiments made to demonstrate atmospheric pressure. (22)\nEinstein's Theory of Relativity (2 & 4) Clear and understandable scientific explanation of principles involved: shorter version a \"popular\" presentation, longer including more scientific illustrations. (XIX, XX)\n\nPhysics\nGROUP 96 (Continued)\nPhysics\n- Electromagnetic Induction (1) Important experiments with elaborate equipment such as only a great university possesses. (134)\n- Electromagnetism (2) Fundamental relations of electricity and magnetism.\n- Electrostatics (1) Experiments photographed in Ryerson Laboratory, Uni-\nUniversity of Chicago.\nExperiments in Conduction of Heat (V2) Elementary laboratory experiments. (22)\nExperiments in Physics \u2014 Sound Waves (1/4) Demonstrating the principle underlying wireless telegraphy, measuring length of waves. Photographed in physics laboratory of Cornell. (22)\nFriction Ball (1) Experiments with a ball of sulphur revealed many discoveries in regard to properties of electricity; how some of these facts were developed industrially. (14)\nGravitation of Liquids (Y2) Laboratory experiments demonstrating difference in specific gravity. (22)\nHigh Frequency Currents (1) Demonstrated in the Ryerson Laboratory.\nMagnetism (1) Fundamental properties of magnetism. (134)\nMysteries of Snow (1) Pictures of the romance of snow. Beauty of snow flakes and different kinds of crystals. (22)\nRevelations by X-Ray: Electrical action in producing X-Rays, and power of X-Rays to reveal inner structure of opaque objects. (X)\nScience at Home: Story of the Magnet: Self-explanatory. (151)\nScience at Home: Electrical and mechanical experiments. (151)\nScience of a Soap Bubble: Unusual properties of soap bubble. (1)\nSunbeams: Composition of light and color; objects studied under various light conditions. (56)\n\nPhysiology, Health and Hygiene\nGROUP 97\nEmbryology: Embryology of the Egg: Development of the chick embryo. (144)\nGift of Life: Sketches the biology of reproduction from a very simple form to the human being. (XXX, 6)\nThe Science of Life: Made under direction of the Surgeon General, U.S. Public Health Service. Covers general biology, communicable diseases and personal hygiene. Series divided into 3 parts:\nPart I deals with general biology:\nReel 1 \u2014 Protoplasm, the Beginning of Life\nReel 2 \u2014 Reproduction in Lower Forms of Life\nReel 3 \u2014 Reproduction in Higher Forms of Life\nReel 4 \u2014 Interdependence of Living Things\n\nPart II treats of communicable diseases. (See Group 104 for separate reels).\n\nPart III deals with personal and general hygiene. (See Group 101 for separate reels). (See also Groups 95, 98)\n\nAnatomy and Structural Physiology (Group 98)\n\nAnatomy and Structural Physiology\n\n* Blood Circulation (1) Microscopic study of embryo of egg and beating of a turtle's heart. (4, 2)\n* Circulation of the Blood (2) Composition and function of the blood and action of the heart. (28)\n* Brain and Nervous System (1) Divisions of the brain, different kinds of nerve cells, association centers, etc. (28)\n* How the Fires of the Body Are Fed (1) Mechanical processes that take place in the body for the nourishment of the fires. (1)\nPlace during the digestion of food. (XVI)\nHow We Breathe (Y2) Lungs and how they function in purifying blood;\nHow We Hear (*/i) Study of human ear and functions of its various parts.\nFourth Edition\nPHYSIOLOGY, HEALTH AND HYGIENE\nGROUP 98 (Continued) Anatomy and Structural Physiology-\nHuman Body \u2014 Blood Vessels and Their Functions (1) Course of the flow of a drop of blood to and from the heart. (22)\nHuman Body \u2014 Digestive Tract (1) Showing abdomen, omentum, stomach, small and large intestines, liver, appendix, pancreas, gall bladder, etc. (22)\nHuman Body \u2014 Heart and How It Works (1) Dissection of human heart and its action; construction of its chambers, partitions, valves and cords.\nHuman Body \u2014 Human Development (1) Human reproduction systems.\ndevelopment of ovum after fertilization through the stages of embryo, fetus and infancy. Charts carry development on till maturity.\n\nHuman Body \u2014 Respiratory and Urinary Systems\nDissection of lungs; dissection and assembling of entire urinary system.\n\nThe Human Voice\nOrgans of the throat and their function in producing sound.\n\nInside Out (XVII, XXX)\nStory of digestion, done in animated diagrams.\n\nOur Bone Relations (V2)\nSimilarity between bony structure in man and some animals.\n\nThe Vital Ororgans (1)\nLocation, structure and function. (See also Groups 97, 99)\n\nGROUP 99\nEYES, FEET, TEETH\n\n** Come Clean (2)\nPicture made by U.S. Army to show soldier the importance of strict mouth hygiene. (38, 149)\n\nFair Day (1)\nFilm made for children. (42, 134)\n\nFoot Follies (1 & 3)\nHow to keep feet healthy and happy. (XXXI, 37)\n1. Causes and correction of foot trouble. (151)\nThe Human Eye (1)\nStructure of the eye and care it should receive. (28)\nOral Hygiene (2)\nReel 1 shows composition of tooth, necessity for chewing food, correct brushing; reel 2 emphasizes importance of proper care. (XI)\nThe Point of View (1)\nBrief sketch of the human eye; defects of sight and corrections illustrated by animated diagrams and cartoons. (18)\nTommy Tucker's Tooth (1)\nA simple narrative cleverly presented to impress upon children the importance of keeping teeth in good condition. (96)\nToothache (1)\nNeglect of the teeth; how to overcome it; importance of teaching oral hygiene in public schools. (103)\nImportance of dental hygiene and methods. (Your Mouth 1)\nGroup 100: Child Hygiene\n1. Baby Food (Thirty-seven different kinds)\n2. Baby's Bath and Toilet (Self-explanatory)\n3. Bending the Twig (Designed to impress upon a child audience the importance of correct habits of daily living and personal hygiene)\n4. Better Babies Series (Object lessons: 10 reels each)\n5. Bathing the Baby (Lesson for young mothers. Eye care stressed)\n6. Feeding the Baby (Proper method of preparing milk for bottle-fed baby)\n7. Dressing the Baby (Object lesson for young mothers)\n8. Baby's Own Protest (Some abominations inflicted upon young babies)\n9. Measuring and Weighing the Baby (Three-year-old child measured and weighed)\n10. Baby's Daily Schedule (Self-explanatory)\n11. Starting the Day Right (Hygienic daily program for children)\nEvery Baby's Birthright: He is entitled to good health. Getting the Right Start in Life: Advantage of maternal nursing over bottle feeding. Effects of malnutrition. Keeping Well Babies Well. Big Gains for Little Bodies: Causes of underweight school-age children and successful camp experiment to restore them, with before and after studies. Boyhood: Physical and moral training of boys. Bringing It Home: Necessity for Infant Welfare Education. Physiology, Health and Hygiene \"1000 and One\" GROUP 100 (Continued) CHILD HYGIENE \"Child Hygiene The Error of Omission: Importance and necessity of recording births; embarrassments and misfortunes that may beset individuals whose births have not been recorded.\nThe Hungry Dragon: A medieval fairy tale with puppets teaching health habits to children. (10, 5)\n\nThe Kid Comes Through: Value of physical fitness in a boy-and-girl adventure. (103, 105)\n\nThe Knowing Gnome: An interesting fairy tale based on health facts.\n\nThe Modern Health Crusade: Learning to fight uncleanliness and disease by applying the rules of King Arthur's knights to the struggle for health.\n\nNew York's Free Baths: A pictorial resume of provisions made for its children in outdoor and indoor bathing, wading pools, sprinklers, etc. (51)\n\nThe Priceless Gift of Health: The health of a child should be guarded at every step from infancy to maturity. (38, 103)\n\nThe Tournament of 'Youth': A town realizes the need for educating families in health habits through school children.\nWho have been taught Modern Health Crusade. (103. 10.5)\nA Two-Family Stork: Points of pre-natal care packed into cartoon animation story of two couples, both having 'babies. (51)\nWell Born: Narrative in dramatic form on pre-natal care. Two expectant mothers learn what they should do for the coming babies. (14 5)\nWhat Shall I Do? Society's responsibility for some means of giving babies a chance when misfortune comes to parents. (19)\nYour Brother's Keeper: Peace activities of the Red Cross, instructing mothers in care of children, food selection, First Aid, etc. (134)\n\nGROUP 101 PERSONAL HYGIENE\nPersonal Hygiene\nCorrect Posture: Methods of overcoming bodily faults, demonstrated by a physical director and students of the University of Southern California. (XVI)\n\nThe Fountain of Youth: History of the bath through the ages, to the (2)\n[General Personal Hygiene (2) Reel 12, \"Science of Life\" series\nGeneral standards of health for the individual.\n\nThe High Road (2) Re-edited edition of the standard work in story form on all-round health for women and The Health Inventor's Examination.\n\nKeeping Fit (1) Fresh air, sunshine and exercise the keynote. (154)\n\nMan's Best Insurance (1) Health. (28)\n\nPersonal Hygiene for Young Women (1) Reel 10 of series \"Science of Life.\" Sex education for women; sexual and reproduction illustrated with anatomical drawing. (22)\n\nSocial Hygiene for Women (2) Fuller treatment of the same subject. (6. 2 2)\n\nPersonal Hygiene for Young Men (1) Reel 11 of \"Science of Life\" series. Venereal diseases, etc. (2 2)]\n1. How to Develop and Maintain Good Posture (14.5 inches) One reel may be shown separately.\nWorking for Dear Life, Mr. Jones realizes the need for annual health inspections through an experience with his automobile. (XXX)\n\nGroup 102: Food\nDo You Drink Milk (1) A visit to a modern dairy farm; care of cattle, bottling, etc. (22)\nThe Romance of a White Bottle (1) A fairy story illustrating food elements in milk and their power to build strong bodies. (28)\n\nSir Lacteus, the Good Milk Knight (2) A picture argument built for children to demonstrate the value of milk as an all-round food. (14.4)\n\nFood for Reflection (2) The need for a hot school lunch is demonstrated. (69, 14.4)\n\nKeeping Out Bad Food (1) Food inspection system and how it operates.\nMeat for Health (1) A short cartoon showing facts about proteins, fats, vitamins, etc. (XXX, 69)\nShreds (1) Whole wheat and its food value. Nutrition and relative values of different foods. (XVII, XXX)\nWell Done (1) Value of meat in diet. (69)\nFourth Edition\nPHYSIOLOGY, HEALTH AND HYGIENE\n\"INSIDE OUT\" - An educational picture that really educates! The story of digestion told in an interesting and novel way by means of animated drawings of the inside of the body. It conveys in its fifteen minutes of showing a clearer understanding of digestive processes than can be gained by hours of reading in text-books or perusal of charts. A picture for the whole family and particularly for the growing child.\nRowland Rogers Studios, Distributors\nExercise and Keep Well (1) Value of exercise. (33)\nExercises for Girls and Women (1) Individual exercises. (XXX)\nA Fat Chance: An animated cartoon about a fat man deciding to reduce, goes to a doctor and succeeds through diet and exercise. (51)\nGarden Gold: John Jasper changes from a confirmed golfer to an enthusiastic gardener; community gardens in an American city; benefits they provide for health and pocketbook. (144)\nKey to Beauty: Setting up exercises for women to develop strength and beauty. (22)\nWalking to Health: Benefits of regular walking. (XI, 28) (See also Group 121)\nGROUP 104: Public Hygiene\nThe Fly as a Disease Carrier: Structure of the common housefly, its role in carrying disease, and suggestions for extermination. Reel 9 in \"Science of Life Series.\" (22, 112)\nThe Flying Bandit: Diabolical plottings of the fly tribe against human beings; a bug powder puts the fly tribe in consternation. (XVII)\n[1] House Fly: Life, Habits, Propagating Method, Disease Germs Transmission [28]\n\nHow Plants and Animals Cause Diseases: Reel 5 of \"Science of Life\" series [22] - Parasitism explained; bacteria and their feeding, multiplying, invading live tissue.\n\nHow Disease Is Spread: Reel 6 of \"Science of Life\" series [22] - Bacterial infection by using drinking glasses, etc. Animated map of U.S. showing disease spread.\n\nHow to Prevent Disease: Reel 7 of \"Science of Life\" series [22] - Dangers of carelessness regarding water, etc. Pasteurization, quarantine, vaccination.\n\nHow the Mosquito Spreads Disease: Reel 8 of \"Science of Life\" series [22, 112] - Mosquito life history and prevention of fever.\n\nAnimated cartoon: Jinks [1] - Teaches in an interesting and humorous way.\nPart played by mosquito in carrying malaria (XVI, 151)\nThe Life History of Gnats and Mosquitos and the Malarial Parasite\nMalaria and the Mosquito (2)\n- Development of parasite which produces malaria in human body and mosquito\n- Habits of mosquito, process of reproduction, and preventative measures (28)\nThe Modern Pied Piper (2)\nMethods of rat control and extermination as exemplified in a city-wide anti-rat campaign (144)\nThe Rat Menace (1)\nHabits, how rats spread disease and damage property; how to exterminate them (103)\nOur Common Enemy (1)\nSplendid microscopic study of the fly (XVD)\nSwat that Fly \u2014 (School Edition) (1)\nLife history of flies and how to combat them\nThe War on the Mosquito (1)\nSelf-explanatory (103)\nPhysiology, Health and Hygiene \"1000 and One\"\nGROUP 104 (Continued) PUBLIC HYGIENE\nWaste Disposal in Cities (1) Two principal methods employed for the safe disposal of city sewage. (134)\nDISEASE AND ITS TREATMENT\nGROUP 105 Disease and Its Treatment\nA Blessing Born in the Agony of War (1) A modern antiseptic. (XXX)\nConquering Diphtheria (1) Scientific facts concerning the disease, its prevention and cure. (1S4)\nThe Diagnosis of Tuberculosis (6) Elaborate treatment of the subject.\nIn His Father's Footsteps (1) How unsanitary conditions bring about typhoid; comparison between old and new way of treating such conditions.\nNew Ways for Old (1) Narrative of 3 periods \u2014 186S, no cure for diphtheria; 1900, antitoxin the cure; today, a perfect preventive, toxin-antitoxin. (88)\nOne Scar or Many: Vaccination, with special reference to smallpox. (1)\nPeter Meets a Menace: Treatment of tuberculosis in narrative form - from clinic to sanatorium; prevention and open air schools. (51, 105)\nThe Price of Human Lives: Fake consumption \"cures\" against proper treatment for tuberculosis. (103)\nThe Public Health Twins at Work: Diseases hailed before court of public opinion and condemned. (6)\nThe Reward of Courage: How cancer starts; stages of its development; proper treatment. (103)\nSafeguarding the Nation: Alcohol - what it is, how it is produced and its effect on the human system. (28)\nUnhooking the Hookworm: Life history of the worm, and the effects of the parasite on its human victims. Produced for International Health Board of the Rockefeller Foundation. (134, 142)\nVenereal Diseases: Scientific treatment. (XXX, 6)\nGROUP 106\nNursing\n\nAwakening of Cecily Nelson (2) A film on home service. (134)\nEvery Woman's Problem (1) How to care for the sick in the home. (134)\nThe Gentle Medicine Man (1) Unceasing battle of the public health nurse against ignorance and superstition. (151)\nThe Health Nurse (1) Shows the activities of the county health nurse in school and in follow-up work in the home. (103)\nIn Florence Nightingale's Footsteps (1) Training of a nurse in classroom, laboratory, operating room and medical and children's wards. (134)\nWinning Her Way (2) Interesting story of methods of public health nursing. (134) (See also Group 105)\n\nGROUP 107\nAccident Prevention\n\nComrades of Success (2) Teaches lesson of safety, courtesy and loyalty through little gnomes. (28)\nDangers of the Street (1) Number of careless practices on the streets. (1)\nThe Hand of Fate (2) Struggle of the Hand of Fate with the invisible force \"Safety\" in man's life. (XVII, 84)\nThe High Cost of Hurry (1) Illustrating many of the accidents which occur in the home, on the street, on cars, in shops, and elsewhere. (28, 10S)\nLive and Let Live (3) A story of safety in the oil fields. (142)\nThe Outlaw (2) Story of safety first; visualizing how King Carelessness and his knaves trap one into taking fatal chances. (XVII, 28, 84)\nPlay Safe (1) Visualizing everyday occurrences that happen to the careless driver and the equally careless pedestrian. (XXX, 127, 142)\nThe Reason Why (2) Visualizing safe and unsafe practices for the worker.\nSafety Devices (1) Accident prevention work done by the National Cash Register Co. (99)\nSafety First (1) Argument for accident prevention. Fourth Edition, Physiology, Health and Hygiene, GROUP 107 (Continued) Accident Prevention, Safety Wins (2) Visualizing importance of safety in life of young man employed in large steel plant. Love story background. (XXX, 148) When a Man's a Miner (4) Produced primarily for the promotion of safety in coal mines. (127, 142) When Wages Stop (4) Safety practices in the oil industry. (142) Why (2) Educating the worker in accident causes and prevention. GROUP 108 FIRE PREVENTION Fire Prevention The Crime of Carelessness (1) Fire prevention film advocating industrial safety. (103) The Danger that Never Sleeps (1) Fire prevention. (XXX) Fire and Safety Appliance Testing at Underwriters' Laboratories (3) How tests are made to determine fire and accident hazard of appliances. (141)\nThe Fire Demon (1) Causes of numerous prevalent fire hazards; lessons for their prevention. (C103)\n\nThe Keystone (1) Visualization of the basic service to commerce and society performed by fire insurance. (XXX)\n\nThe Menace (2) Personal responsibility for prevention and control of fire; nature of automatic sprinklers and their operation in controlling fire. (141) (See also Group 24)\n\nFirst Aid and Life Saving\n\nGroup 109 First Aid and Life Saving\n\nBefore the Doctor Comes (1) First aid to industrial workers rendered by fellow employees. (134)\n\nDiving, Life Saving and First Aid (1) Fundamental principles. (XXI)\n\nEvery Swimmer a Life-Saver (1) Latest and most approved methods of rescue. (134)\n\nRescued (1) Showing the danger of careless swimming and modern methods.\nGroup 110 Medicine and Surgery\nFiner Points in Tonsilectomy (2) Surgical film of tonsil operation.\nGoitre Operation (1) Detailed surgical operation for goitre. Each step taken during surgery. For sale only. (58)\nGonorrhea in the Male (3) For medical students and post-graduate study along urological lines; pathological, symptomological and therapeutic phases of gonorrhea. (6)\nA Model Clinic Plan (1) Floor plan for small building; advantages; actual scenes of clinic; role of social worker emphasized. (6)\nModern Diagnosis and Treatment of Syphilis (3) Clinical study, technique in diagnosis and treatment, pathological cases; lesions, Wassermann test, spinal fluid test. (6)\nOrthopedic Cases (1) Presentation of surgical cases from the Hospital of the Ruptured and Crippled. (19)\nOsteoplastic Craniotomy Detailed operation on the brain, step by step, from beginning to end. For sale only. (58)\nPreparation of a Vital Tooth for a Porcelain Jacket Crown Technical film showing porcelain taking the place of gold crowns. (19)\nRoot Amputation Technical film showing how a decayed tooth root should be removed by oral surgery. (19)\nStudy of Diseases of the Nervous System Cases in Montefoire Hospital. (2)\nStudy of the Motor Control of Gait and Posture Cases in Montefoire Hospital and Cornell College. (19)\nAthletics and Sports\nGroup 111 Boxing, Wrestling, Fencing\nBoxing Instructions Made at U. S. Naval Academy. (XI)\nJiu Jitsu Japanese art of self-defense illustrated. (22)\nPhysiology, Health and Hygiene \"1000 and One\"\nGroup 111: (Continued) Boxing, Wrestling and Fencing\nA Lesson in Swordsmanship (%) Men and women students at Columbia receive instruction. (22)\nMunn's Wrestling (2) The title tells it. (42)\nOn Guard (1) Art of self-defense in Grantland Rice \"Sportlight.\" Demonstrations by Jim Corbett and Eugene Tunney. (XV)\nSelf-defense Without Weapons (*4) Physical instructor demonstrates athletic tricks for self-protection. (22)\nWorld's Championship Wrestling Match between Stecher and Caddock (3) Filmed under auspices of American Legion at Madison Square Garden, New York City. (IV)\n(See also Group 114)\n\nGroup 112: Baseball, Football, Golf\nBaseball Slow Motion Pictures (1) How \"Babe\" Ruth bangs out a home run and how baseball notables behave in action. I.23, 112, 156\nA Star Pitcher (1) Grover Alexander shows how he throws his puzzling pitch.\nFuture Greats (1) Slow motion of young athletes in baseball, tennis, golf, polo.\nGridiron Glory (1) Grantland Rice .Sportlight. Great moments of great games. Slow motion photography reveals path of ball in intricate plays.\nGame of Golf (1) Explaining terms used and method of playing.\nGolf Analysis of Motion (4) Featuring Bobby Jones and ten other amateur champions; four principal shots shown in normal and slow motion.\nGolf in Slow Motion (1) Drives, putts, etc; two women champions, Cecil Leitch and Alexa Sterling, in normal and slow motion.\nGolfing with Bobby Jones (1) The youthful amateur champion shows his drives and putts before regular and slow motion cameras.\nGolfing with Jess Sweetser (1) Slow motion helps in analyzing the movements.\nThe Champion's Remarkable Form. (XI)\nThe Love of Caddy: Creating Good Will between Golfer and His Caddy. (1) Origin of Golf in Scotland, with a Refreshing Humorous Viewpoint. Grantland Rice, \"Sportlight.\" (XV)\n\nGroup 113: Dancing\nEvolution of Dance: A Study in Aesthetic Dancing Made at Denishawn; Characteristic Dances of Primitive and Modern Races. (22)\nDances of Many Nations: Folk Dances of European Countries. (XI)\nDesha's Tryst with the Moon. (%) Poetic Slow Motion Study of a Dancer in Moonlit Woodland. (XVI)\nGrace in Slow Motion. (1) Slow Motion Studies of Four Dances of Different Types \u2014 Each Seen First at Normal Speed, Then Analyzed in Slow Motion. (XVI)\nLe Ballet de Foret. (1) Annual \"Dance in the Forest,\" Given on Patterson.\nGroup 114: Track and Field\nAthletic Movements Analyzed: walking, running, jumping, javelin throwing, vaulting, hurdling, etc. (XV)\nAthletic Proposition: Telephone equipment installers celebrate unique athletic field day; installers at work. (154)\nTennis in Slow Motion: Normal and slow motion shots of Johnston of California and Patterson of Australia. (XVI)\nWhat Form Means to an Athlete: Track events including hammer throw, hundred-yard dash, relay race, pole vault, hurdle, and jiu-jitsu. Exhibition of fine points in boxing. Slow motion. (XXI)\nGroup 115: Camping and Outdoor Sports\nThe American Boy Out of Doors: The youth engaged in his many sports and other outdoor activities. (I, 23)\n\"Outdoor sports and recreations in Prizma color. Back to Nature - Picturesque life and activities at girls' camp in Maine Woods. Slow motion included. (XVI) Camping Adventures - A day in the Great Wide Open Spaces. (151) Esthetic Camping - Games, dances and other pastimes in a novel camp for girls. Beautiful outdoor scenes in slow motion. (XVI)\n\nFourth Edition\n\nPHYSIOLOGY, HEALTH AND HYGIENE\n\"The Flying Bandit\" - At last, a movie that tells the story of the fly amusingly - not a mere dull showing of the fly and his habits. Here is a real story, with a good plot, dramatic power, human interest and plenty of action. Done in animated cartoons with amazing skill and humor. An instructive, amusing comedy.\n\nRowland Rogers Studios, Distributors 71 West 23rd Street, New York. Group 115 (Athletics and Sports) Camping.\"\nThe Forest King: Camping party's journey into Canada's moose country (22)\nHitting the High Spots: Tramping and camping through White Mountains (144)\nOut-of-Doors America: Fishing, hunting, mountain climbing in pictuesque regions from Florida to California (I)\nSummer Fun on Western National Forests: Fishing, boating, riding and motoring in western forests; restocking lakes and streams (144)\nThe Tenderfoot: A city chap takes a vacation in the open spaces. Toiling for Rest (IX)\nVacation Days on the National Forests: Camping (144)\nWoodcraft and Camping: Boy campers of Woodcraft League of America prepare for night in the open (22)\nGROUP 116 Water Sports\nA, B, C of Swimming: Elementary lessons in swimming instruction (1)\nTitle: Campfire - Girls, Watersports\n1. High Diving: Analysis of an Expert Diver (x/4) (Slow motion photographs) (22)\n2. Mermaids and Fishermen: Flycasting and World Champion Woman Diver (V2) (Slow motion) (XVI)\n3. Swimming: Fundamental strokes and teaching methods on land and in water illustrated and analyzed with slow motion camera (XXI)\n4. Swimming and Diving: Correct form (Slow motion photography) (134)\n5. Swimming at U.S. Naval Academy: Strokes and methods used (XI)\n6. GROUP 117 - Winter Sports\n1. The Chase: Ski-jumping amid wonderful Swiss Alpine scenery (VI, 42)\n2. Just Kiddies and Snow: Picturizing all sorts of sports with snow (151)\n3. King Snow Holds Court: Winter carnival in White Mountain National Forest; skiing and skating (144)\n4. Midwinter Sports in Quebec: Curling, skating, coasting on the toboggan (1)\nSkating a la Mode (22) Fashions of yesterday and today in skaters and skating; famous skaters perform feats on ice.\n\nSno Birds (1) Winter sports in the Adirondacks, done in Prizma color.\nSporting with Jack Frost (1) Winter sports.\nThrills and Spills (1) Scenes taken at Pocono Mt. near New York; winter reports.\nWhen North Winds Blow (1) A steam-heated flat dweller finds new vigor when he travels to White Mountain National Forest and joins in a winter carnival.\nWhite Wilderness (1) Winter sports on slopes of Mt. Washington; Appalachian Club on annual hike to summit.\nWinter Sports in Colorado (1A) Campers enjoying ski-jumping at Steam-boat Springs, Colo. Luncheon prepared over heat of boiling spring.\nPhysiology, Health and Hygiene \"1000 and One\" Group 118 Athletics and Sports Animal Hunting.\nA grizzly bear is captured in California. (111A, 151)\nCapturing Wild Animals: Using a lasso and working single-handed to capture animals alive. (I)\nDeer Hunting in the Adirondacks. (56)\nA Fish and Bear Tale: Mostly bears, captured with a lasso. Canadian government film. (XXX)\nThe Fur Trapper: The pioneer of the wilderness, setting his traps in the far north country. (IX)\nHunting Kangaroos from Motor Cars: Emu bird; motoring across the bush, pursuing wild kangaroos. (67)\nMan vs. Beast: Big game hunt in the heart of Africa\u2014 a record of the expedition of Louis Shuman. (VI)\nSidelights on the Raccoon: Coon hunt; animals mischievous and full of curiosity; capture of a \"possum.\" (XXI)\nGroup 119 Bird Hunting\nBird Dogs Afield: Training of hunting dogs and their field tests. Prizma color. (XX, 56)\nHunting in Maryland: wild turkey and rabbits, ducks on Chesapeake Bay and rail-bird, quail hunting. My Own Carolina: Bird dog and hunting in the Blue Ridge. Wild Duck Hunting: How ducks are hunted in Sussex, England. With Gun and Dog: Self-explanatory.\n\nFishing:\nAngling for Chinook Salmon at falls of Willamette River, Ore.\nFishing the Flathead with Charlie Howe\nFly Fishing in Lakes of Glacier National Park\nA Sportsman's Paradise: Fishing in Trapper's Lake and North Fork of White River; bear hunt.\nGROUP 121 Miscellaneous\nGrantland Rice Sportlights (1 reel each) Highlights of the world of sport shown; contribution made by ideals of sportsmanship to modern American life. Thirty-seven subjects already released, covering many branches of sports.\n\nKing Basketball (1) Various shots and passes of the game.\nCorrective Gymnastics (1/4) Conditions and causes of physical defects. (See also Groups 101, 103)\n\nGROUP 122 Psychology\nCharacter Analysis (%): Character as written on the face. (22)\nChildhood (1): Intimate study of children's feelings and desires.\nEmotion (1): A study of crowds under conditions of excitement.\nGetting the Most Out of Retailing (2): Information for retail merchants concerning store management, newspaper advertising, window displays, and retail selling. (99)\nWay to Success (2): A clever little story showing how the good-will and efforts of a few can overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles.\nmethod solves a merchant's problem. (149)\n\nFourth Edition\nSCENIC GROUP 123 Scenic\nBeauty Spots of America (1) A visit to scenes of rare loveliness in the United States and Canada. (111A, 151)\nThe Bounty of Nature (1) Scenic film of rare beauty, showing that nature gives all and withholds nothing. (I, 23)\nCanning Scenery (1) How a camera man must work in the Tropics; canning interesting Philippine scenery. (67)\nDawning (1) Studies of beautiful sunrises in various parts of the world. (***A Dream of the Sea (1) Color studies of the sea in all its moods \u2014 by moonlight, sunlight and dusk. _ _ (XX)***) Everywhere (1) Collection of remarkable and beautiful scenes found here and there throughout the world. (156)\nVisiting snow-clad Sierras and fiery volcano Kilauea in Hawaii. (XVI, 151)\nFar-away mountain country of Canadian Northwest brings to the screen exquisite scenic: glaciers. (22)\nOne of the best \"Bruce Scenics\": glorious cloud movements, surf breaking on beach, and rippling brook with mountain peaks towering above. (VI)\nRecording a great variety of beautiful aspects of Nature, and one of the most artistic of the Bruce Wilderness Tales. (VI)\nBeautiful scenes and pleasure resorts in Gardens of Normandy. (156)\nAn inspirational scenic prompting deeper appreciation of the wonders of nature. (XVI)\nCharming and artistic studies of beautiful scenes reflected by calm waters of famous rivers and canals in France, Belgium and other places. (1)\nMy Country (VI, 42) - A scenic appreciation of our own land, beautifully photographed. One of the Bruce Wilderness Tales.\n\nNature's Contrasts (67) - Beautiful New England snow scenes titled with excerpts from Whittier and Emerson; tropic Cuban vistas.\n\nNights of Many Shadows (VI, 42) - A Bruce Wilderness Tale.\n\nQuaint People and Queer Places (I, 69, 156) - Interesting scenes and people, in out-of-the-way places of the world.\n\nRough Weather (I) - Storm in the North Sea, taken from the liner Adriatic.\n\nThe West Wind (IX) - Action of the wind upon the windmill, the billowy sea, the River Nile, and similar scenes.\n\nSOCIOLOGY\nGROUP 124 General\n\nA Gypsy El Dorado (151) - Life in a Russian gypsy camp in Georgia.\n\nThe Spirit Wrestlers (1) - Glimpses of a peculiar people in British Columbia.\nThe Russian Doukhobors and their industries. The architect of the Christian community, which is the foundation of the Christian state (I, 69). Shattered Dreams - Comedy drama illustrating what happens when well-meaning but misguided \"idealists\" tamper with economic laws (5). The Gang - Entertaining, amusing, and a lesson in democracy (I). Hearts of Men - Geo. Beban's story of an immigrant's struggle to win success in this country for himself and his little boy (18). St. Dunstan's Happy Blind - The University for the Sightless in London. Regents Park mansion transformed into home and training school for blinded British soldiers (67). Eyes to the Blind - Lecture-type appeal for support of education of the blind in handicrafts. Made for Brooklyn Committee for the Blind (51).\nAs the Twig is Bent (5) - \"Parentage\" revised; story of the lives of two boys from different families, illustrating the effect of home environment. (156)\nLest We Forget (5) - Real-life temperance drama, depicting how the sins of the father are visited upon the children. (18, 115)\nTen Nights in a Bar-Room (8) - Lesson on the evils of alcohol. (19)\nBroken Laws (7) - Depiction of parental responsibilities. Endorsed by many women's clubs and societies throughout the country. (VIII)\nHell and the Way Out (5) - Dramatized facts about the establishment, growth, and achievement of the League of Nations. (19)\nThe Toil of Tomorrow (2) - Rehabilitation of the devastated part of France during the World War. Effective plea for an end to all wars. (XV)\n[The Woman Worker, 2: Contrasts women's industrial activities in the home of a former era with their occupations in modern factories. (p. 14, 6)\nWhen Women Work (2): Significant film on the woman labor problem. From Whistle to Whistle: Story of woman's work from colonial times to the present. Development of standards for women in industry. (p. XXXI)\nAn American in the Making (1): Immigrant in his native land; in America as an employee of a large steel plant; safety, sanitary and educational facilities placed at his disposal. (p. 142, 148)\nFactory Welfare (1): Many features of the welfare department of the National Cash Register Co. \u2014 working conditions of women. (p. 99)\nThe Valley of Fair Play (2): Working and living conditions in the industrial community about Endicott, N. (p. XXX)]\nAt Dayton, Ohio. (99)\n\nA Visit to Morgan Park (4) Housing development for employees of the Minnesota Steel Co., Duluth. (148)\n\nWelfare Activities of the American Sheet and Tin Plate Co. (1) Self-explanatory. (148)\n\nWelfare Activities of the Carnegie Steel Co. (1) Safety First picnic and rally; placing before the families of men who work, the meaning of safety. (1)\n\nWelfare Work, National Tube Co. (1) Title tells it. (XXX)\n\nWelfare, Bridgeport Brass Co. (1) Self-explanatory. (XXX)\n\nGROUP 125 Police\nThe Arm of Justice (1) Police methods of detecting and outwitting evaders\nFinger Prints (^) Anthropometry, by which identity of people is positively established. (22)\n\nProstitution and the Police (2) Designed for groups especially interested in problems of law enforcement relating to commercialized prostitution, produced especially for use with police officers. (6)\n\n(See also Group 134)\nGroup 126, Social Organizations, \"America's Heritage\" (2): Boy Scouts on truck tour through Eastern States, \"Be Prepared\" (3): A fine lad's experiences in the varied phases of scouting in a highlv interesting narrative form, \"Blazing the Trail to Manhood\" (1): A boy scout film, \"The Boy Scout Story\" (112,156): A boy scout's story of his good acts, \"The Boy Scout and His Uniform\" (1): Beginning with the process of shrinking and cutting, steps in the manufacture of a complete outfit for Young America, \"Boy Scouts Camp\" (1): Their activities and setting up camp, \"Boy Scouts in Devastated France\" (2): Title tells it, \"Boys Scouts of America\" (1): American scouts take a trip to England, \"The Call\" (3): Story of Jerry, orphan \"newsy\" who becomes a boy scout and a hero. Endorsed by National Headquarters of Boy Scouts of America.\nThe Diary of a Boy Scout No. 1 (1) A boy scout's activities in the summer. (XXX)\nThe International Jamboree (4) Official motion picture record of the great meeting of the Boy Scouts of the world held in Copenhagen. (XVI)\nKnights of the Square Table (4) Boy scouts. (77, 79)\nMolders of Manhood (1) What happens at the conferences of the scout executives of the United States. (XVI)\nFourth Edition\n\nSociology\nGROUP 126 (Continued) Social Organizations\nN.J. State Boys' Camp (1) Title tells it. (XXX)\nScouting with Dan Beard (2) The various activities of the troop directed by the famous National Scout Commissioner in his summer camp. (XVI)\nA Scout's Diary No. 2 (1) Activities of a boy scout in the winter. (XXX)\nTenderfoot Tim (2) He is initiated into the Boy Scouts of Great Britain.\nAround the Clock with a Girl Scout (1) Self-explanatory. (XXX)\nCome to Camp Invitation to join summer Y.W.C.A. camps; scenes from two such camps. (XXXI) Land of the Sky Y.W.C.A. student conference in Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. (XXXI) Middies and Bloomers Summer camp of the New York Y.W.C.A. (XXXI) Open Doors Full exposition of the work of the Y.W.C.A. in story form. Silver Bay Up Lake George on steamer, with girl activities shown at the famous summer conference resort. (XXXI, 37) The Character Shop Orange Y.M.C.A. (XXX) Chicago Y.M.C.A. Hotel Title tells it. (XXX) Springfield Y.M.C.A. College Self-explanatory. (XXX) The Y.M.C.A.'s Yesterday and Today Title tells it. (XXX) Partners Boys and Girls Club work organizing Baby Beef Clubs in story form. (92) Somebody's Children Activities of Baltimore County Children's Aid Society. (XXIII)\n[The Spirit of Service (1) A film suitable for use during Red Cross Roll Call.\nSuppose Nobody Cared (1) A picturization of the activities of the Baltimore Alliance, the charitable and social agencies of Baltimore.\nGroup 127 Insurance and Fraternal Orders\nChasing the Cure (2) A trip to Modern \"Woodmen of America Tuberculosis Sanatorium near Colorado Springs.\nEverybody's Friend (1) A story of the use and value of life insurance.\nThe Hour Glass (4) An appeal for insurance protection and what one large insurance company does for its members.\nI. 0. 0. F. Convention (1) Grand Lodge session and dedication of the I. 0. 0. F. new home at Devil's Lake, N. D.\nThe Old and the New (2) An animated story of the growth of woodcraft. Contains scenes taken at 1925 Head Camp Meeting, Chicago.]\nOn the Go (1) Notes from a Modern \"Woodmen Forester\" who encamped on Chicago's Municipal Pier during Head Camp, 1925.\n\nThe Orphans (1) One-reel heart interest sketch of unprotected orphan children.\n\nUnder the Eagle's Wing (2) The Golden Rule as exemplified by the Old Age Pension Law.\n\nWhat Might Happen (1) A simple home folk story of what might happen if you leave loved ones unprovided for.\n\nThe Educational Screen is published for the visual field \u2014 to promote the greater use of visual aids in education (charts, maps, models, drawings, pictures, stereographs, slides, films, etc.). It can help YOU in your problems.\n\nWrite to our advertisers. Every one of them can be of service to you. They helped to make this volume possible. Please mention 1000 and One.\n\nThe Educational Screen for 1 year, including 1000 and One (Fifth Edition)\u2014 all for $1.75.\nThe Great Flight (1) - Atlantic flight of navy planes in 1919. (147)\nAir Transportation Service - Cleveland (1) - Trip of Ford Airplane from Dearborn with complete Ford car. (58)\nAir Transportation Service - Chicago (1) - Initial trip of the Ford Airplane from Dearborn with a load of Ford parts. (58)\nThe Amundsen Polar Flight (3) - Thrilling record of the first attempt ever made to reach North Pole by aeroplane. (XV)\nFlight of N.C. 4 (1) - Story 'of the first Atlantic Aerial crossing from America to Spain. (151)\nNew York to London by Air (Y2) - Describing famous overseas flight of dirigible R-34; views of mooring towers, ship's interior, gang-plank, etc. (22)\nWings of Progress (1) - E.B. Ford Commercial Airplane reliability tour. (129)\nAutos (129)\nFording the Lincoln Highway (2) With the 10,000,000th Ford car from New York to 'Frisco.\n\nThe Fordson \u2014 Transportation (1) The Fordson aiding transportation.\n\nMy Pal (1) Automobile race across one of the most dangerous passes in the Rockies. Entertainment subject subtly advertising Cleveland Six. (XXX, 14)\n\nThe Snowmobile (1) A Ford on snowshoes and how it overcomes winter's obstacles. (XXX)\n\nGROUP 130 Roads and Road Building\n\nBuilding Bituminous Roads (1) How Uncle Sam constructs surface-treated and penetration macadam pavements, (144)\n\nBuilding Forest Roads (1) Men and machinery at work in the National Forests. (144)\n\nCrossing the Great Salt Desert (1) Difficulties met and overcome by engineers in building the Mendover road, short cut across the Great Salt Desert\n\nAround the West by Forest Roads (1) Self-explanatory. (144)\nImproving old macadam roads through construction of concrete shoulders (1).\nMixed Asphalt Pavements (1). Modern methods of building high-type motor roads (XXX, 144).\nModern Concrete Road Construction (1). Engineering skills in transforming an old dirt road into a modern, efficient highway.\nProtecting the Nation's Highways (1). How asphalt surfaces thwart destruction by heavily loaded vehicles (XXX).\nRoad Building in the United States (2). Methods of building important types of highways as observed by the Pan American Highway Commission during their country tour in June, 1924 (144).\nThe Road Goes Through (1). How western road builders overcome transportation barriers and build modern roads on our National Forest and Federal Aid highway systems (144).\nRoads: Scenic wonders of National Forests in Pacific Coast states revealed to motorists by means of modern highways constructed under the direction of the Bureau of Public Roads. - The Road to Happiness: Promoting good roads throughout rural districts. Scenes along the Nation's Highway: Good roads throughout the U.S. Tests for Better Roads: Conducted by the Bureau of Better Roads to determine durability of materials. What About Macadam: Approved methods of building macadam highways. Fourth Edition Travel and Transportation 85, Group 131: Railroads - An Electrified Travelogue: Shows how people formerly traveled; then electrification of railroads, how engines are built, etc; ride on electric locomotive through mountain scenery.\n[The Ford Way of Railroading (2) Modern methods of railroading as practiced by the D.T. & I. Railroad. (58)\nIron Trail Around the World (1) Title tells it. (IX)\nKeeping Up Railroad Service (1) Many phases of railroad operation.\nKeeping Up the Railroad (2) Repair, signal and shop work. (XXX)\nThe King of the Rails (3) Evolution of transportation from primitive to modern times; electric locomotive operating in Rockies. (X)\nThe Man at the Throttle (1) Ride beside engineer of Twentieth Century Limited up Hudson River shore from New York to Albany. (XXX)\nA Pullman Travelogue (2) The interesting history and development of the Pullman car. (XXX)\nRailroads in United States History (1) Growth of our great railway systems and their economic significance. (134)\nA Rolling Romance (4) Views along the Baltimore and Ohio routes. (XXX)]\nThe Science of Traveling (2) Traveling a la Pullman. (XXX) Tale of the Iron Horse: The Evolution of the modern locomotive. (22) Your Friend, the Railroad: Care it takes to move live stock, grain, perishable products and milk and deliver them to consumer in perfect condition. Good instructional material. (XXX, 106) (See also Groups 41, 72)\n\nGROUP 132\nWater\n*** Across the Ocean on a Great Liner: Story of the comforts and pleasures the Olympic, greyhound of the sea, offers ocean travelers. (XVII) Belfast Shipbuilding: Scenes in great shipyard and launching of ocean liner. (XX)\n\nCanals in United States: History (1) Motion pictures, maps and charts tell of canals built, their location and importance, influence in population.\n\nCargo Ships of the American Mercantile Marine: From construction to journeys all over the world. (151)\n[1] Ferries of the Deep: Life on palatial liners of the Anglo-American Marine\nThe Great Lakes: Important activities of this inland waterway. For sale\n[The Light That Never Fails] (4) Giant coast lighthouse showing how a 15,000 candle-power gas mantle and revolving prisms cast a powerful light.\nLighting the Sea Lanes to N. Y. Harbor: Tracing the course of an incoming liner in N. Y. Harbor. (151)\nMishaps at Sea: Self-explanatory. (151)\n[Queen of the Waves] (2) Evolution of boats from primitive to modern; launching of the \"Queen of the Waves\" at Hog Island.\n[The Steamboat in United States History] (1) Its influence upon the settlement of our country, trade and commerce. Different types of early and modern steamers. (134)\nThis is the Life: A voyage on an ocean greyhound. (XXX)\nUnique Happenings in the Shipping World: Glimpses of the experiences. (1)\nand fate of many a ship. (151)\nWater Transportation (1) Water transportation of yesterday and today. (I)\nGROUP 133 Miscellaneous\nEvolution of Travel (CI) Primitive methods of transportation and gradual changes made to present day. (XI, 49)\nThe Spirit of Transportation (1) Evolution of transportation from canoe to aeroplane, as portrayed in pageant incident, Annapolis, Md. (XXIII)\nTransportation (2) Picture history of its development. (142)\nHow Dreams Come True (1) The desire of a boy to own a bicycle.\nBicycles We Have Met (%) Complete history of bicycle from 1819 to motorcycle of today. (22)\nThe Llamas of Peru (1/4) Shows how these strong, surefooted animals are used to transport ore from copper mines in mountains to smelters 10,000 feet\nThe Silver Trail (1) Means of transportation along trails of Colorado.\nWAR\u2014NAVAL AND MILITARY\nWAR\u2014NAVAL AND MILITARY *\nThe Big Guns of the Navy (1) - Something of their manufacture from the raw material and much of their use on board ship.\nThree Gobs (1) - Naval training: diving, torpedo work and airplaning, done in natural color.\nChateau-Thierry and Beyond (1) - With the Yanks near the Front in July, A Day with the West Point Cadets (1) At the U.S. Military Academy.\nA Gold Star Pilgrimage (1) - To places hallowed by the sacrifices of the American boys in France.\nThe Atlantic Fleet in the West Indies (1) - U.S. Navy subject.\nAmerica's Persuasive Force (1) - Uncle Sam's troopers along Mexican Border.\nAerial Rocket Camera (%) - Developed by U.S. Army.\nThe Big Guns of the Navy (1)\nManufacture: the process of making or creating something.\nUse on board ship: the act of employing or making use of something on a ship.\nThree Gobs (1)\nNaval training: training provided to naval personnel.\nDiving: the activity of diving into or as if into water.\nTorpedo work: the work involved in the use of torpedoes.\nAirplaning: flying an airplane.\nDone in natural color: completed using natural colors.\nChateau-Thierry and Beyond (1)\nWith the Yanks near the Front in July: with the American soldiers near the front lines in July.\nA Day with the West Point Cadets (1)\nAt the U.S. Military Academy: at the United States Military Academy.\nA Gold Star Pilgrimage (1)\nTo places hallowed by the sacrifices of the American boys in France: to places that hold great significance due to the sacrifices made by American soldiers in France.\nThe Guns of Our Fathers (^) Interesting from a historical standpoint, showing the evolution of modern firearms and light ordinance. (22)\nHunting the Sea Wolf (1) Bombing German submarines from an Italian destroyer, in the World War. (151)\nLife on the \"New York\" (1) Work and play of the Bluejacket on ship-board, on shore in Hawaii and a visit to the lava sea of Kilauea. (14, 7)\nThe Making of a Man (1) West Point's activities, shown in Prizma color. (XX)\nOur Middies at Annapolis (1) The IL S. Naval Academy. (67)\nThe Miracle of Montoir (1) Building a vast supply depot near St. Nazaire. (1)\nModern War Methods (1) Latest chemical usages. (151)\nNaval Aerial Service (1) Depicting the exploits of all types of airships. (1)\nOur Army (1) Various branches; the way men live and train; artillery practice; coast defense. (XXI)\nOur Navy: Various branches; battleships in gunning practice, smoke screens, submarine work, etc. (XXI)\n\nOur Navy in the Near East: Work of the navy in the famine regions of the eastern Mediterranean; scenic views of lands visited. (147)\n\nSequence of Victory: Great welcome in London, Paris and New York to the heroes who fought and won the World War. (111A, 151)\n\nThe Texas Rangers: Life along Rio Grande among military police of the Lone Star State. (151)\n\nThe Torpedo, the Hornet of the Sea: Mechanism explained and adjustment of propellers and rudders which direct its course. (22)\n\nTraining Aviators: The Government aviation schools; making and assembling of planes and flying; army balloon work. (XXI)\n\nTrip of the U.S.S. Idaho: Interesting events on board the ship on a trip to Brazil. (Ill A)\nUncle Sam, Salvager: The A.E.F. salvaging 100 million dollars' worth of materials at Tours.\n\nUnited States Battle Fleet: Cruising from Atlantic to Pacific via Panama Canal.\n\nUnited States Battle Fleet on the High Seas: Recording activities of our fleet and life on board a battleship. (42, 151)\n\nThe United States Navy in the Making: Building, equipping and manning. Upkeep and Disposal of Uncle Sam's Ships: Revelation of naval problems.\n\n***U-35 or Official Exploits of a German Submarine: Motion picture record of vessels destroyed on one cruise during World War. Useful in connection with World War history. (XX)\n\nMaking Man-Handlers at West Point: Activities in training, sports, etc. (XI)\nWhile Cannons Crashed: A tale without words of the deadly work in Uncle Sam's Submarine Chasers (67)\n\nFourth Edition\n\nEntertainment\nEducational, Religious and Industrial Films\nFor the Non-theatrical Field\nOver 500 Reels\nMany of which are Free\n\nHarcsl MtfTK?N Picture Industries, /nc\nHarcol Bldg. 610-612 Baronne St., New Orleans, LA.\nSouthern Distributors of De Fry Products for Ten Years\n\nEntertainment\nGroup 135\nJuvenile\n\nAdopting a Bear Cub (V2)\nA funny study of the little orphan brown bear of Cascade Mts. (22)\n\n** Alice in Wonderland (4)\nLewis Carroll's story that fascinates grownups\n\n** Along the Moonbeam Trail (2)\nCareful reproductions of prehistoric monsters woven in a fanciful story. (4, 9, 79)\n\n*** The Alphabetical Zoo (1)\nA delightful review of animals from A to Z. Titled in rhyme. (42, 151)\nBabes in the Woods (6) Fairy story.\nBobbie's Ark: In his dream, Bobbie's wooden animals come to life.\nChip's Backyard Barnstormers: Circus with the family pets for performers. Delightful picture for children.\nCinderella and the Magic Slipper (4 & 5): Cast of children interpret Cinderella and the Magic Slipper.\nDream Doll (3): Old toymaker discovers elixir that brings dolls to life with surprising results.\nThe Ghost of Slumber Mountain: Story of prehistoric animals; how they lived, fought and died. (IV, 112, 156)\nHeart of a Doll: Delightful juvenile story.\nThe Heart of a Princess: Fairy tale of Princess and her three suitors.\nHey Diddle Diddle (XI): Animation illustrates the nursery rhyme.\nHickery, Dickery, Dock (1/4): Animated pen makes the drawings. Titles appear a letter and a line at a time to suit the action. Excellent primary material. (XI)\nHis Majesty (3) - A fiction perhaps stranger than fact: an infant heir to the throne. (XVI)\nHop o' My Thumb - Story of the Seven League Boots. (49)\nHumpty Dumpty (Y2) - Delightful version in animation of the favorite nursery rhyme. Suitable for kindergarten and primary use. (108)\nIn Slumberland (4) - Juvenile playlet of fairyland. (XXI)\nJack and the Beanstalk (1) - Dramatization of the story known wherever there are children. (XI, 42, 49, 112)\n\u2022 Kiddies (1) - Little children of many lands. (28, 156)\nLa Fontaine's Fables (Series of four 1 reel pictures) - Animal Characteristics and Sympathy, Animal Oddities and The Man and the Flea, Celebrities of the Zoo, and Justice; Animal Anthologies and 'also Conceit'. (151)\nThe Little Pirate (5) - Children's story featuring Baby Marie Osborne. (79)\nLittle Red Riding Hood (1) - Motoys in the familiar story. (XX, 56)\nLittle Red Riding Hood (1) - Animated cartoon. (XVI)\nThe Magic Cloak (3) - Fairy story of the magic cloak that enables the owner to realize his wish. (I, 156)\nMarionettes - Tony Sarg (Series of one-reel novelty films) (56)\nMotoy Novelties (15 subjects) - Something out of the ordinary, especially for children. Sufficiently mysterious to interest adults.\nIn Jungleland In Japaland\nJimmie Gets the Pennant - Jimmie, the Soldier Boy\nOut in the Rain - The Magic Match\nEntertainment\nGroup 135 (Continued) Entertainment\nMotoy Novelties (Continued)\nMary and Gretel, Jimmie and Jam\nDinkling of the Circus Midnight Frolics\nA Trip to the Moon - Goldie Locks and the Three Bears\nDolly Doings - Little Red Riding Hood\nPuss in Boots\n** Mud (2) - Entertaining comedy involving mud and hard luck. (XVI)\nNeighbor Nelly (1) - Simple story based on the theme \"In the garden of our heart, a flower blooms\" with Madge Evans. (XX, 56, 156)\nNight Before Christmas (2) - Splendid picturization of the children's great Christmas story. (XXV, 49)\nOld Mother Hubbard (1) - Screen version of the old fable. (I)\nOn Christmas Eve (1) - Santa Claus in a Christmas story. (56)\nPinocchio (3) - Adaption of the well-known Italian fairy tale. (49)\nRover's Big Day (1) - Triumph of a homeless dog and a 6-year-old boy over objections of his parents. (XYI)\nRumpelstiltskin (4) - Delightful version of the old fairy story. (7, 9, 112)\nShades of Noah (1) - Animals in alphabetical array, done in Prizma color. (Snow White (4) - The old fairy tale. (XI, 42, 112)\nThrough the Looking Glass (5) - Alice and her adventures come to life with refreshing naturalness. (I, 37, 79)\nTwinkle, Twinkle, Little Star (Fairy tale of a star child and his adventures when he falls to earth)\nWar of the Wooden Soldiers (Army of wooden soldiers which comes to life and engages in battle)\nWee Ones of Japan (Joys and sorrows of the Japanese juveniles)\nWhirl Through Squirrelville (Play acted by squirrels)\nWizard of Oz (The old fairy story. Not the one with L. Frank Baum)\nAdventures of Carol (Comedy drama featuring Madge Evans)\nAmerican Aristocracy (Reprint of early Douglas Fairbanks picture)\nBattling Orioles (Great comeback staged by octogenarian baseball veterans under the leadership of a modern star of the diamond. Star, Glenn)\n\nGroups 136: General\nAdventures of the Great Chicago Fire (Drama of the great Chicago fire. Frank Mayo and Mabel Ballin head cast)\n(II) The Brave Deserve the Fair (1) Reprint of the first appearance of Tom (The Call from the Wild (4 & 5) Dramatic story of a child and a puppy. A fine story of the outdoors. (XYI, 112, 152) Charlie's Aunt (6) Syd Chaplin's best. (42) The Chechahcos (6) Alaskan drama. (II) A Christmas Miracle (1) One of the old French miracle plays. (49) Counsel for the Defense (7) Melodrama of high finance and stern justice, starring Betty Compson and House Peters. (II) The Country Flapper (5) Dorothy Gish and Glenn Hunter in a comedy. The Cracker Jack (6) Johnny Hines. (42) Disposing of Mother (2) Womans Home Companion story. (42) \u2022 Doctor Jack (5) Comedy with Harold Lloyd. (II) Don't Park Here (2) The troubles of a family in trying to rent a home. (XYI) * Down to the Sea in Ships (7) A fine story of old New Bedford whaling.\n[The Eagle and the Fawn: An Indian love story acted out by Crow Indians on Wyoming reservation. (21)\nThe Early Bird: Johnnie Hines comedy drama. (4, 2)\nThe False Trail: Romance of the Canadian Northwest. I, 23, 69\nFlattery: Story by Van Loan. Treats a new theme in a new way, with John Bowers and Marguerite De La Motte. Clean and wholesome. (6)\nFlesh and Blood: Lon Chaney in strong story of father's love and martyrdom for his daughter. (18, 56)\nFriendly Enemies: Comedy acted by Joe Weber and Lew Fields, depicting two friends becoming friendly enemies because of different attitudes towards the Fatherland. (19)]\n\nFourth Edition\nEntertainment\nPinkney Film Service Co.\nA complete service for Churches, Schools and Community centers.\nProjection Machines, Screens, Accessories and Film Library. Representative.\nPictorial Clubs, Inc., Urban-Kineto Corp. and American Motion Picture Corp. in Western Pennsylvania, Eastern Ohio and West Virginia.\n\nGRANT 0546\n1023 FORBES STREET, PITTSBURGH, PA.\nGROUP 236 (Continued) Entertainment\n\nGeorge Washington Jr. (7) Wesley Barry. (42)\nGrandma's Boy (5) A boy with a cowardice complex comes out victorious over his enemies. Harold Lloyd II.\nThe Greatest Love of All (7) A great love of a humble youth for his mother. George Beban II.\nThe Hands of Nora (7) A famous story by Richard Washburn Child featuring Clara Kimball Young and Elliott Dexter. (56)\nHead in' Home (6) A baseball story with Babe Ruth. (56)\nHearts and Fists (7) Romance of the timberlands, starring John Bowers and Marguerite de La Motte. II\nHe Fooled 'Em All (5) A kindly satire on old-fashioned \"movies,\" with \"Chic\" Sales and Colleen Moore. (156)\nHeritage (4) Dramatic exposition of the belief that a noble heritage is:\nHero's Love (1) Mary Pickford's first movie. (56)\nHeroes of the Street (7) Wesley Barry. (42)\nHis Last Race (6) Taming of a wild horse. (56)\nHis Master's Voice (6) Dog picture. (42)\nHis Promotion (2) Reprint of early appearance of Johnnie Hines. (56)\nHold Your Breath (6) Comedic drama with Dorothy Devore and Walter.\nThe Homekeeping of Jim (2) Entertaining drama of home life. I, 23, 69\nHow Animated Cartoons are Made (Y2) Work done in cartoon rooms of Bray Productions.\nHow Movies Move (%) Explaining operations of motion picture projection machine.\nIn the Store (2) Reprint of early Charlie Chaplin picture. (56)\nThe Ivory Snuff Box (5) Detective drama. Directed by Maurice Tourneur, featuring Holbrook Blinn. (156)\nJudge Brown Boy Stories: Tad's Swimming Hole, The Preacher's Son, I'm a Man, and others (156)\nKeep Smiling: A boy with a natural fear of the sea wins a thrilling boat race. Starring Monty Banks (II)\nKeep to the Right: Edith Taliaferro in a story of the brotherhood of The King of Wild Horses, \"The Black,\" a wild stallion, and his final devotion to the man who rescues him. Splendid animal subject (XV)\nThe Lamb: Reprint of early Douglas Fairbanks success (56)\nLazybones: Rural country drama (IX)\nThe Little Shepherd: A little boy saves his people from persecution (156)\nLittle Shoes: Featuring Henry B. Walthall and Mary McAllister (79)\nLove Harbor: Thrilling drama of friendship (I, 23, 69, 156)\nThe Midnight Burglar: A small child's deeds of charity. Gloria Joy. (5)\nMy Boy (1) Bruce - Wilderness Tale of an old man and his boy. (VI)\nNew Toys (7) - Romantic comedy acted by Richard Barthelmess and Mary  No Children Wanted (4) - Neglect of parents towards little girl and their awakening. Gloria Joy. (18)\nThe Odalisque (2) - Reprint of early movie with Wallace Reid, Blanche Sweet, Miriam Cooper, Henry B. Walthall, Mary Alden and Mae Marsh. (56)\nOld Fashioned Flapper (2) - Women's Home Companion story. (42)\nEntertainment\nGroup 136 (Continued) Entertainment - General\nOld Time Movie Show (8) - Collection of comedies and dramas made years ago by famous stars \u2014 Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin, Tom Mix, Johnnie Hines, the Drews, Colleen Moore, etc. A novelty program.\nThe Pinch Hitter (5) - Reprint of famous early success with Billie Burke and Charles\nThe Pinch Hitter (5) - Glenn Hunter as a shy country boy. (23)\nA Pirate for a Day (3) Comedy depicting the doings of a headstrong girl just out of finishing school. (XVI)\nRags to Riches (7) Wesley Barry's feature. (42)\nReuben's Excursion (1) Experiences of a countryman during a day in Atlantic City. (XVI)\nSafety Last (7) Thrilling adventures of a small town boy who makes good in the city. Harold Lloyd. (II)\nA Sailor Made Man (4) Harold Lloyd comedy. (II)\nSkinner's Dress Suit (5) Featuring Bryant Washburn. (79)\nThe Sky Raider (6) Romance of the air. Jacqueline Logan. (II)\nThe Speed Spook (6) Johnny Hines comedy. (42)\nThe Spirit of the U.S.A. (8) Wartime story. (VIII)\nStation Content (2) Reprint of early Wallace Reid success. (56)\nSudden Jim (5) Mining story featuring Charles Ray. (79)\nThis Wife Business (2) Women's Home Companion story. (42)\nThe Tomboy (6) Light comedy melodrama. Clean fun for young and old.\nTricked (2) Rousing drama of the Northwest. I, 23, 69, 156.\nTwilight (6) Romance of the lumberlands. '79.\nThe Two Orphans (5) Little children's mishaps in searching for a home.\nUnmasking the Mediums (Series of 4 subjects, x/4 reel each) Revealing the tricks by which fake spiritualists delude their patrons. 22.\nThe Voice of the Nightingale (1) Exceptionally artistic production in color. Dramatic tale of children and a bird. VI, 42.\nWhen Dawn Came (6) Colleen Moore starring, showing a doctor's return to faith through a blind child. 18, 56, 156.\nWhen the Circus Comes to Town (1) Inspired by circus posters, boys put on circus of their own. XVI.\nWhich Shall It Be? (7) Humble couple with seven children asked to decide which child should be, adopted by wealthy Uncle. 19.\nWhite Sheep (7) Plucky but under-sized son of a fighting family. Novelty.\ncomedy starring Glenn Try (II)\nWhy Elephants Leave Home (2) Entertaining novelty showing many unusual accomplishments of elephants; \"roundup\" of jungle elephants at the Kraal. (XV)\nYankee Doodle Jr. (5) Adventures of Yankee lad. I, 69, 156\nRELIGIOUS\nThe Abundant Life (3) Visualizing world-wide program of Christian Missions at work in the Far East. (158)\nAfter the Fall (3) God's promise of redemption. (112)\nAmerica \u2014 Enduring Power for Service (1) Half-reel of sermonettes and America \u2014 The Canaan of All Nations (1) The people that have become custodian of freedom in a Christian civilization. (23, 69, 156)\n***As We Forgive (2) Story of present day life paralleling epistle of Paul to Philemon. (XVI)\nBecause of the Bible (5) Story of bible influence in life of mountain girl.\nThe Birth of a Race (7) - From the Dawn of creation to signing of the treaty at Versailles. (79, 112, 156)\nBlind Bartimaeus (1) Lessons from the miracle that restored his sight.\nBy Their Fruits (1 & 2) Story of a young man who disobeys the commandment, \"Thou Shalt Not Steal,\" and learns it is best to go straight.\nBlood Will Tell (2) Wholesome story of a little boy accused falsely of picking pockets; home he finds as an outcome.\nFourth Edition\n\nAdvertisement\nThe National Clearing House for\nNON-THEATRICAL MOTION PICTURES\nSpecially Selected and Carefully Edited by\nExperts for Churches, Schools, Community Centers and the General Non-Theatrical Field\nSPECIAL FEATURE PICTURES\nBOY SCOUT PICTURES\nSCIENCE AND INSTRUCTION\nSPORTS AND PASTIMES\nCOMEDIES\nTRAVEL AND SCENICS\n\"THE MAN NOBODY KNOWS\"\nAuthor of the popular book \"The Man Nobody Knows\"\nA picture of the places where Jesus lived and worked - the sort of people He knew, the sort of things He did - of the very hills and streams and rocks that touched His feet.\n\nPhotographed in the Holy Land by Errett LeRoy Kenepp\nOriginal music settings for \"The Man Nobody Knows\" by Alexander Savine furnished free with bookings.\n\nWe are constantly adding to our library. All films may be had on non-inflammable stock.\n\nPICTORIAL CLUBS, Inc.\nEdited and Titled by Bruce Barton\nCatalogue Sent on Request\n350 Madison Ave., New York\nEastern Sales Office\nPICTORIAL CLUBS, Inc.\n729 Seventh Avenue\nNew York\nWestern Sales Office\nPICTORIAL CLUBS, Inc.\n808 S. Wabash Avenue\nChicago\n\nRELIGIOUS\nGROUP 137\n\nThe Call of Samuel (1)\nStory of a little boy named Samuel, whose mother teaches him the story of Biblical Samuel. (I, 23, 71, 156)\n[The Chosen Prince (8) Dramatization of the lives of David and Jonathan.\nThe Climbing Life's Hill (2) Depicting victory of truth and love over falsehood and hate. Story based on words of John Wanamaker. (112)\nThe Confession (7) For Roman Catholic use particularly. (112)\nThe Contrast (6) Featuring the exalting of the Christian home. (112)\nCross of Fire (2) Story of frontier life showing the power of the Cross.\nThe Dawn of Christianity (2) A Message of Hope, Brotherly Love, and the Death of Saul. (1)\nHow the Death of Saul (1) Occurred in combat with Philistines.\nDrew Theological Seminary (2) Picture trip to Drew Forest, showing student life, classroom and devotional activities in this Methodist theological school; work of the church in training its ministry. (87)\nThe Double Gift (1) Story of Elisha and the Shunamite woman. (1)]\nEsther (7) Biblical story from the Book of Esther. (79)\nThe Eyes of the Blind (1) Shows the work of Ming Sam School for Blind at Canton, first of its kind, established by Missionaries. (\"XXV\")\nThe Fall of Jerusalem (6) Picturization of the exile of \"Chosen People.\"\nThe Fool (10) Screen version of a stage play, picturing the experiences of a man who sets out to live as Christ did. (IX)\nFor His Sake (5) Two brothers become reconciled because of Christ and His forgiving love. (112)\nGermination and The Harvest (1) Nature illustrates the principle of \"Who Loseth His Life.\" (I, 23)\nGettin' Larnin (1) Visits to Murphy Collegiate Institute in the mountains of Tennessee, and to Mount Zion Seminary in Western Georgia. (87)\nGive Us This Day Our Daily Bread (1) Wearisome tasks by which the people of Palestine win their daily bread, just as in Jesus' time. (XVI)\nGod and the Man (6) Drama about the life and work of John, God's Friend (6). (112) The Good Man (6) From Marie Corelli's story. (112) The Good Samaritan (1) Modern story parallel to the Bible story. (I, 23, 71, 112, 156) Gospel Stories (2) Selected from the New Testament. (18, 56) The Great Redeemer (5) Drama of spiritual redemption for two convicts. Holy Bible Series (30) Thirty one-reel subjects from \"Creation\" to \"Solomon in All His Glory.\" (XI, 49) Holy Night (1) Christmas feature. (112) I Believe (6) Strong testimony against infidelity in story form. (112, 156) Immortality (1) Answer to the question, \"If a man dies, shall he live again?\" in nature's analogies. (I, 2S, 112) In the Footsteps of the Master (5) Record of places made sacred by the Saviour's presence. (XVI)\nJesus Christ (5) Picturization of the life of the Saviour. (XXV, 112)\nJohnny Ring and the Captain's Sword (4) Religious drama of Civil War.\nJoseph and His Brethren (4) Accurate delineation of the Biblical narrative.\nThe Journey of the Israelites (3) Record of the great migration, from Egypt to the Promised Land. (XVI)\nKipling's Mandalay (4) Picturesque people as the master poet interpreted life.\nLife of Abraham (6) Story of the Father of Israel from his marriage with Sarah to his death. (XXV)\nThe Land of Samson (1) Vivid lesson on universal human conflict between desire and duty. (XVI)\nLife of Christ (5) Reproduction of Passion Play. (42, 112, 156)\nLife Immortal (1) Shunamite Mother and the lesson Prophet Elijah taught.\nLife of St. Patrick (3) Special Roman Catholic feature. (112)\nLight of Faith (4) Its power to cure the woes of mankind. Legend of the\n[I. XVI. 2S. 69] The Holy Grail beautifully interpolated.\n\nFourth Edition\n\nReligious Powerful Religious Dramas\nSuitable film subjects for Religious Instruction and the Sunday Evening Service\nBig, Inspiring Pictures That Make the Biblical Characters Realistic\n\n\"The Chosen Prince\" - the life story of David up to his ascension to the throne of Israel is more than a Bible lesson. It is a tremendously appealing story.\n\n\"Joseph and His Brethren\" - run serially provides four splendid topics for Sunday evenings. Other strong, vigorous pictures to choose from for the progressive church. Also, many classic stories and natural color travelogues.\n\nSee Our Listings In This Issue\n\nAll Printed on Standard Non-Flam Stock\nMotion Picture Projectors, Screens\nStereopticons, Accessories\nUnited Projector & Film Corp.\n\n51-53 Chapel St. 230 Franklin St. 1112 Keenan Bldg.\nThe Light of the World (7) Re-edited version of \"The Birth of a Race.\"\nA Little Missionary (2) Story of a little girl taken from an orphanage to the home of a selfish old couple; how her sunny ways softened their hearts and transformed their lives.\nThe Lord Is My Shepherd (1) Beautiful pictorial exposition of Biblical text.\nThe Lord Will Provide (1) Modern illustration of Biblical text.\nThe Magic Toy-Maker (4) A man on a downward road helped by the ingenious work of a toy-maker.\nA Maker of Men (6) Dramatic story contrasting the life of a man who lives for himself and one who lives for others. (18, 42, 79, 113, 115)\nThe Man Nobody Knows (6) Picture of the places where Jesus lived and worked.\nEdited and titled by Bruce Barton. (XVI)\n[Martin Luther - His Life (8) Outstanding events in the great Protestant Reformation. A Modern Ruth (2) A Bible story in connection with a war story. Motherhood in Nature (1) How young animals are cared for and how the strong protect the weak. (23, 112) My Rosary (2) Scenes of Bible stories included in a story of Puritan days. Nature the Majestic (1) Wondrous gifts of Nature the Creator has bestowed upon his people. (23) The New Minister (5) Experiences of a pastor in his new parish. (112) Oberammergau (1) Home of the Passion Play and some of the players.\n\nRELIGIOUS FILM SLIDE PICTURES TEACH!\nFor Stereopticon Work in School or Church\nUSE PICTUROLS\nAND THE S.V.E. FILM STEREOPTICON\n\nBest Value - Best Performance]\nSociety for Visual Education, Inc.\n327 S. LaSalle St., Chicago, 111\n\nOld Testament in Pictures (Series of 15, 1 reel each)\nThe Creation\nThe Migration of Sacrifice of Isaac\nCain and Abel Abraham and Lot\nIsaac and Rebecca Noah and the Ark\nThe Rescue of Lot Jacob and Rachel\nThe Deluge Isaac, the Boy Jacob and Esau\nAbraham and Sarah Ishmael Return of Jacob\nThe Parish Priest (6) A Story of a young clergyman, featuring William Desmond. Especially suitable for Catholic presentation. (Reels: 18, 56, 69, 156)\nThe Passion Play (3) Exact reproduction of Oberammergau play. (Reels: 79, 112)\nPilgrim's Progress (4) The classic story. (Reels: 77, 79, 112)\nProblems of Pin-Hole Parish (6) Missionary photoplay. (Reel: 158)\nThe Prodigal Son (1) His return from poverty in Damascus to his father.\nIn Bethlehem, showing places mentioned in the parable. (XVI)\nRam Das (4) - Picture of the great \"Mass\" Movement in India towards Christianity under the leadership of Ram Das. (XXV, 37, 71, 69, 156)\nA Schoolhouse on the Pamlico - Washington Collegiate Institute on the Pamlico River at Washington, N.C. (87)\nThe Servant in the House - Great portrayal of the Christ spirit in the parable.\nThe Shepherd King - The story of David. (42)\nThe Social Center of the Wesley Foundation - Visit to Methodist student headquarters at University of Illinois; its activities and facilities. (87)\nSpiritual Law in the Natural World - Beautiful scenic places that instruct.\nThe Stream of Life - Human drama with a gospel message of faith.\nThrown to the Lions - Story of the Christian martyrs. Hand colored.\nA Tombstone Campus - Incidents and persons connected with founding.\nThe Tower of Babel (1) Its building; the Lord confuses the peoples' tongues and they scatter.\nThe Twenty-Third Psalm (1) Experiences of a day in the life of sheep and shepherd. Titles embodying verses of the psalm.\nThe University of Chattanooga (1) Campus scenes and student activities at University and nearby Athens School.\nWagging Tongues (4) How a faithful sister and a sympathetic pastor restored a young man to respectability and usefulness in society.\nThe University of Chattanooga (1) Campus scenes and student life.\nThe Twenty-Third Psalm (1) A shepherd's day and verses from the psalm as titles.\nWho Loses His Life (1) A physician's sacrifice for the discovery of sleeping sickness serum.\nThe Widow's Mite (1) A lesson in unselfishness.\n[Two-reel religious films prepared for church use. Distributed in 1926-27. For details, consult The Educational Screen. Fourth Edition. Theatrical Film Reviews. Every film in this section personally seen by Marguerite Orndorff, editor of the monthly \"Theatrical Field\" in the magazine. Indication for films viewed by staff (*) omitted. Monthly issue in which original review appeared given. Reviews made primarily from technical and artistic standpoint with less attention to \"moral\" considerations. Moral aspect of pictures taken care of effectively by notations showing]\nRecommendations by the Parent-Teacher Associations and the Film Councils of America. All films below, that have been recommended by either or both of these organizations, are indicated by the letters PTA and FCA following the film review. The small letters following the dash indicate as follows: f, for whole family; j, especially good for children; y, for youth from 14 years up; a, for adults.\n\nThis list of films covers all theatrical films reviewed in THE EDUCATIONAL SCREEN from January, 1924 to April, 1925, inclusive.\n\nAbraham Lincoln (10) - Fine, faithful record of Lincoln's life acted by George Billings. Well worth seeing by everybody. (Nov. 1924) PTA-f\n\nThe Acquittal (7) - Dramatic history of a crime and its consequences; mystery and suspense well sustained. Claire Windsor, Barbara Bedford. PTA-f (HI)\n(Feb. 1924) Adventure (Pauline Starke, Tom Moore, Wallace Beery, Raymond Hatton) Thrills, romance, and comedy in the South Seas. Well done and worth seeing.\n(Sept. 1925) The Air Mail (Billie Dove, Warner Baxter, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Mary Brian) A lively tale of conspiracy and heroism in the air lanes, including a pleasant romance.\n(June 1925) The Alaskan (Thomas Meighan) A weak story.\n(Nov. 1924) America (Griffith's patriotic spectacle. Children) Many good points as far as theme and technical handling go.\n(Jan. 1925) Anna Christie (Eugene O'Neill's drama. Unusual performances by Blanche Sweet, George Marion, William Russell) Produced with gratifying fidelity.\nAnother Man's Wife (5) Busy man, neglected wife, chance friend and villainous rum runner. Not unusual. (May 1928) (XVIII)\nAnother Scandal (8) Lois Wilson, Holmes Herbert, and Flora Le Breton skate 'over some thin ice very carefully' in this Cosmo Hamilton story. On the whole, well done. (Jan. 1925) (XVIH)\nAre Parents People? (7) Modern comedy. The divorce problem viewed from the standpoint of the daughter in the case. Well directed and finely acted by Betty Bronson, Florence Vidor, and Adolphe Menjou. (Oct. 1925)\nArgentine Love (7) Bebe Daniels and Ricardo Cortez in a fiery Spanish adventure story. As Man Desires (8) Adventure story of some interest, with Milton Sills as British officer wrongly accused of murder, and runs off to South Seas. The Auction Block (7) Genuinely clever titles, acting of Eleanor Boardman.\nThe Average Woman (7) In defense of the maligned flapper. Uninteresting or not entertaining. (May 1924) (XXXII b)\n\nThe Bandolero (8) Romantic Spanish background for the story of revenge. A bull fight makes the thrilling climax. (Jan. 1925) PTA-a (XIH)\n\nTheatrical Reviews\n\nBeau Brummel (11) In addition to being an excellent costume picture, this has John Barrymore in one of his romantic roles. Mary Astor, Louis. (Dec. 1924) PTA-f FCA-y (XXVIII)\n\nThe Beautiful City (7) An Italian boy in New York. Fairly interesting, with Richard Barthelmess, Dorothy Gish, and William Powell. (Dec. 1925) PTA-f (HI)\n\nBeggar on Horseback (8) Adroit mixture of comedy and satire in the story of a struggling composer tempted to marry for money. A hilarious dream.\nSequence: PTA-f, FCA-f (VII)\nBehold This Woman: Good cast and direction wasted on a poor story. (Oct. 1925)\nThe Beloved Brute: A routine western featuring William Russell. (VII) (Dec. 1924)\nBetween Friends: Dull story of a faithless wife. (Dec. 1924) (XXVIII)\nBig Brother: Well filmed story of the underworld by Rex Beach. Starring Tom Moore, Edith Roberts, and Mickey Bennett. (Mar. 1924) (VII)\nThe Big Parade: Magnificently presented story of three doughboys in the World War. Starring John Gilbert and Renee Adoree, with faultless support by a fine cast. The best screening of this subject ever attempted. (Apr. 1926) ' PTA-f (XIII)\nBlack Oxen: Gertrude Atherton's much discussed novel of the old woman who renewed her youth. Contains little action. (Feb. 1924) (HI)\nThe Agnes Ayres and Antonio Moreno in a harmless tale with elements of an evening's entertainment (Sept. 1924)\nThe Boomerang: Muddled plot and aimless acting (Sept. 1925)\nThe Border Legion: Regulation western with outstanding performance by Rockcliffe Fellowes, Helene Chadwick, and Antonio Moreno (Jan. 1925)\nBorn Rich: Inane story of idle people with too much money (Jan. 1925)\nBoy of Mine: A gem of a picture. The tragedy of the small boy whose father doesn't understand him. Admirable studies from life by Irene Rich, Rockcliffe Fellowes, and Henry Walthall. Ben Alexander as the boy. No reason why children shouldn't see it, but they will certainly miss some of the finer points (Feb. 1924)\nThe Brass Bottle: Illustrating the danger of fooling with antique brass. (Sept. 1924)\nbottles which contain genies left over from the Arabian Nights. Enjoyment for the children. (April 1924) (III)\n\nBrave Heart (7) The story of an Indian and his love for a white woman. Slightly improbable, but satisfactory from a moral standpoint. Starring Rod LaRocque and Lillian Rich. (April 1926) PTA-f (XVIII)\n\nThe Bridge of Sighs (7) An innocent man unjustly accused of a crime. Not unusual in any way. Dorothy Mackaill and Creighton Hale head the cast. (October 1925) (XXVIII)\n\nBright Lights (7) Broadway and the chorus girl, with a rural interlude for contrast. Starring Pauline Starke and Charles Ray, who is amusing. (April 1926) PTA-f (XIII)\n\nBroken Barriers (6) A poor novel, poorly filmed. (December 1924) PTA-a (XIII)\n\nBroken Laws (7) A serious and truthful charge against modern parents, effectively worked out by Mrs. Wallace Reid and a skillful Cast including. (December 1924)\nJackie Saunders, Virginia Lee Corbin, Ramsey Wallace, Percy Marmont, and Arthur Rankin. (June 1925) PTA-a . FCA-y (Vni)\nButterfly (1925) Six sacrifices of an elder sister for a younger, well-played and convincing. Ruth Clifford, Laura La Plante, Norman Kerry, and Kenneth Harlan. (January 1925) (XXVII)\n\nA Cafe in Cairo (1925) Intrigue, mystery, and romance in the far East. A whirlwind plot, with Priscilla Dean in a characteristic part.\nThe Call of the Canyon (1924) Zane Grey western with Lois Wilson and Richard Dix. Beautiful settings. Children might see this. (April 1924) (VII)\n\nCameo Kirby (1924) The heyday of the Mississippi river steam packets, and the story of Kirby, the gambler whose efforts to save an old man from unscrupulous gamesters drew him into a maze of difficulties. John Gilbert and Gertrude Olmstead head a good cast. (January 1924) (IX)\n[Fourth Edition, THEATRICAL REVIEWS, 97\nCapital Punishment (6) A dismal tale of a man who is convicted of a crime that never was committed, on a wager. (Jan. 1926) (XXXII c)\nCaptain Blood (10) Sabatini romance filmed without distinction. Warren Kerrigan and Jean Paige featured. (Apr. 1925)\nPTA-f FCA-y (XXVTJI)\nChalk Marks (6) An unpretentious story well told: a tribute to the devoted and faithful school teacher. Marguerite Snow as the teacher. Children. (Dec. 1925)\nCharley's Aunt (7) The old farce brought up to date somewhat. Good cast headed by Sydney Chaplin in his most rollicking mood. It may not be art but it's fun. (June 1925) FCA-y (XV1H)\nThe Charmer (6) Pola Negri as a Spanish dancer who dangles two men from her heartstrings. Drama and comedy nicely mingled. Robert Fraser and Wallace McDonald in support. (June 1925) (VII)]\n[Cheaper to Marry: Lewis Stone, Conrad Nagel, Marguerite de la Motte, Paulette Duval, and Louise Fazenda. (June 1925)]\n[The Cheat: Pola Negri and Charles de Roche in a poor picture. (February 1924)]\n[Circe, The Enchantress: A jazz story with nothing to recommend it - unless you like Mae Murray in anything. (March 1925)]\n[The City That Never Sleeps: A melodrama of the underworld that holds your attention because of good direction. (January 1925)]\n[Classified: Amusing and entertaining comedy drama with Corinne Griffith as a pert knowing lady in the classified ad department of a New York newspaper. Jack Mulhall and Ward Crane in the cast. (December 1925)]\nClassmates (7): Richard Barthelmess at West Point. Interesting, but not as effective as Iris pictures usually are. (Feb. 1925) PTA-f FCA-y\n\nThe Pirate (7): The ambition of a meek little tailor to be a pirate, and his woes when his dream was realized. Leon Errol and Dorothy Gish. Good fun. (Feb. 1926) PTA-f (in)\n\nThe Coast of Folly (7): Gloria Swanson in an indifferent story has the opportunity to do some fine character work, quite distinct from her usual roles. (Feb. 1925) PTA-f (VII)\n\nCode of the West (6): A regulation western that moves slowly, due to the lack of motivation of the characters. Owen Moore. (June 1925) FCA-y (VII)\n\nComin' Through (7): Thomas Meighan and Lila Lee amble mechanically through an insipid story based on an ancient plot. (April 1925) PTA-f FCA-y (VII)\n\nThe Confidence Man (6): Thomas Meighan in a crook story. (June 1925) FCA-y (VIII)\n[Sept. 1924] Cornered - A crook story based on double identity. Cast includes Marie Prevost, Rockcliffe Fellowes, and Raymond Hatton. (VII)\n[Oct. 1925] The Courtship of Myles Standish - Following Longfellow's poem in the main, valuable from a historical standpoint, and fairly interesting. Charles Ray heads a good cast. (XXVIH)\nThe Crowded Hour - Story of an actress during the war. Bebe Daniels in an emotional role, which she fills rather well. (VII)\n[Sept. 1924] Cytheria - Lewis Stone adroitly impersonates a restless man of forty who feels he has not had enough romance in his life and goes after it. Irene Rich and Alma Rubens are effective in support. (III)\n[Feb. 1924] The Crowded Hour - PTA-f (II)\n[Oct. 1925] Cytheria - FCA-a (VII)\n[August 1924] D - Unreadable title. Unknown cast and crew. (Unnumbered)\nDangerous Innocence (7) Film version of \"Anne's an Idiot,\" a love story of English people in India. Well done. Starring Laura La Plante and Eugene The Dangerous Maid (8) Constance Talmadge as a headstrong young woman in revolutionary days in England. Comedy-drama, perfectly harmless for young and old. (Feb. 1924) PTA-f (ni)\n\nDangerous Money (7) Bebe Daniels as a spendthrift heiress and Tom Moore as the poor but honest lover. Interesting. (Dec. 1924) (VII)\n\nDaring Love (6) Mediocre war story with Elaine Hammerstein and Huntly\n\nThe Dark Angel (8) A war story of somewhat routine pattern, ranking high because of Ronald Colman's fine portrayal of a blinded soldier. Good work also by Vilma Banky, Helen Jerome Eddy, Wyndham Standing, and Frank Elliott. (Dec. 1925) (III)\n\nDaughters of Today (7) A flapper story, melodramatic and in bad taste.\nThe Day of Faith (7) Unusual handling of the \"miracle man\" theme with Eleanor Boardman, Tyrone Power, Wallace McDonald, and Raymond Griffith. (Feb. 1925) (III)\n\nDesire (7) A meandering and pointless sermon, bolstered up by the presence of Marguerite de la Motte and John Bowers. (Jan. 1924) (XHI)\n\nThe Devil's Cargo (8) Sacramento at the height of the gold fever, with the Vigilantes looking out for the public's morals. Plenty of action with Wallace Beery and Raymond Hatton. (Sept. 1925) (VII)\n\nDick Turpin (7) Tom Mix goes adventuring in the realm of costume drama. The picture would be quite satisfactory if the hero were not a robber. (Sept. 1925) (IX)\nThe Dixie Handicap (7) The old Kentucky Derby plot refurbished. Frank Keenan stands out from the rest of the cast. (May 1925) (XIII)\n\nThe Don Q, Son of Zorro (11) The rollicking adventures of the son of Zorro in Spain, with the exuberant Douglas Fairbanks. For everybody. (Nov. 1925) PTA-f FCA-y (XXIV)\n\nDon't Call It Love (7) Story by Julian Street of a tempestuous prima donna and her ephemeral love affairs. Nita Naldi, Rod LaRocque, Agnes Ayres, and Jack Holt. (Apr. 1924) Vn\n\nDorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall (10) Mary Pickford as the spitfire, Dorothy, surrounded by an admirable cast, beautifully costumed and well directed. Children. (June 1924) PTA-f FCA-f (XXIV)\n\nDown to the Sea in Ships (9) A thrilling narrative of the whaling industry, sponsored by the Quakers of the whaling village of New Bedford, Mass. Children. (Apr. 1924) PTA-y XVin\nThe Dressmaker from Paris (7) Paris during the war and Main Street, Illinois. The little French girl and her American soldier. Lea trice Joy and a gorgeous fashion show. Negligible story. (June 1925) FCA-y (VII)\n\nThe Drums of Jeopardy (7) They are a pair of priceless emeralds which bring disaster to all who touch them. How their deadly charm is broken is set forth in a fairly interesting way. Elaine Hammerstein, Jack Mulhall, Wallace Beery. (April 1924) (XXXII f)\n\nDrusilla With A Million (8) A penniless old lady inherits a fortune and proceeds to adopt all the homeless babies she can find. Well done, despite age and obviousness of plot. Mary Carr, Priscilla Bonner, and Kenneth Harlan. (October 1925) PTA-f (VIII)\n\nDynamite Smith (7) Charles Ray approaches some of his past fine work.\nThe Eagle: A Russian romance. Lieutenant in the Queen's guard becomes a Russian Robin Hood. Starring Rudolph Valentino and Vilma Banky. (January 1925)\n\nThe Eagle: East of Suez. Pola Negri in an emotional role. Sound performances by Edmund Lowe and Rockcliffe Fellowes. (April 1925)\n\nEast Side, West Side. A poor working girl meets an idle rich man. Familiar theme with variations. Starring Marie Prevost and Kenneth Harlan. (February 1924)\n\nThe Enchanted Cottage. A charming fantasy about two ugly people who become beautiful in each other's sight because they love. Starring Richard Barthelme. (No specific month or year mentioned)\nThe Enemy Sex (8) - A chorus girl with a past, interpreted by Betty [The Eternal City (8) - A modernized and somewhat sketchy version of Hall Caine's novel, notable for fine photography and beautiful views of Rome. Barbara La Marr, Bert Lytell, Lionel Barrymore, and Montagu Excuse Me (6) - Rupert Hughes' rapidly moving Pullman farce has a good cast and lots of laughs. (June 1925)\n\nThe Extra Girl (7) - A country maiden journeys west to star in the movies, but encounters difficulties. Mabel Normand and a good cast. (Mar 1924)\n\nFair Week (5) - Faintly amusing rural melodrama with Walter Hiers as rustic hero. Constance Wilson, and Earle Metcalfe in support. (May 1924)\n\nThe Family Secret (6) - Originally \"Editha's Burglar.\" Baby Peggy\n[The Fast Set (7) A trite story baffling the director. (Dec. 1924) (VII)\nThe Fast Worker (7) Reginald Denny contributes a pleasant evening's entertainment with Laura La Plante, Ethel Grey Terry, Lee Moran, and Richard Tucker. (Jan. 1925) (XXVLT)\nFeet of Clay (10) One of C. B. DeMille's de luxe pictures with an unusually wild plot. Vera Reynolds and Rod La Rocque. (Dec. 1924) (VII)\nThe Female (5) In South Africa with Betty Compson; one of Cynthia Stockley's. (Dec. 1924) (VII)\nThe Fighting American (6) The young hero has a string of impossible adventures in China. Inane. (Sept. 1925)\nThe Fighting Coward (6) Tarkington's satire on the southern \"code of honor\"]\n[\"Honor\" handled deftly and amusingly by James Cruze and a good cast including Cullen Landis, Ernest Torrence, Mary Astor, and Phyllis Haver. (Mav, 1924)\nFlaming Youth (9) Thorough analysis of the flapper and her times and customs. Colleen Moore as the flapper and Milton Sills as the flapped. (Jan. 1926)\nFlower of Night (6) Commonplace story of California in the gold days, with Pola Negri as a Spanish girl. (Feb. 1926)\nFlowing Gold (8) Story of the oil fields, with adventures, newly rich, and some terrific thrills. Anna Q. Nilsson in a good characterization of an awkward country girl. Milton Sills opposite. (May 1924)\nForbidden Paradise (7) Pola Negri and Ernst Lubitsch produce between them a delectable farce, altogether too sophisticated for the young. (Apr. 1925)\nForty Winks (6) A comedy put over by the skill of Raymond]\"]\nThe Freshman (7) Harold Lloyd gets some of his most uproarious comedy out of college life, and gives you a thrill or two in addition. (April 1925) PTA-f (VII)\n\nFriendly Enemies (8) Weber and Fields, surrounded by a good cast and direction, in an enjoyable picture dealing with the German-American and the problem of his divided allegiance during the war. (September 1925) PTA-f (XVIII)\n\nGalloping Fish (6) A hodgepodge of nonsense circling around a lady diver's efforts to save her trained seal from the clutches of a sheriff. A few good laughs. Louise Fazenda, Marie Prevost and Syd Chaplin. (September 1925)\n\nThe Garden of Weeds (6) Betty Compson as the chorus girl with a past. Good support by Warner Baxter and Rockcliffe Fellowes. (January 1925) (VTI)\n(1) Gerald Cranston's Lady: A dull story of a marriage of convenience with James Kirkwood, Alma Rubens, and Marguerite de la Motte. (April 1925)\n(2) Girl Shy: A Harold Lloyd comedy. Patsy Ruth Miller is amusing as a village cut-up. Johnnie Walker and Alan Hale are satisfactory in support. (January 1925) PTA-f (XXXn d)\n(3) Going Up: Good fun and real thrills with versatile Douglas MacLean as an amateur aviator. Children will enjoy it. (February 1924) FCA-f (n)\n(4) The Gold Diggers: Good entertainment if you are interested in finding out why, how, and whom the gold-digging chorus lady digs, and in learning that she is quite human after all. (January 1924) (XXVLTI)\n(5) The Goldfish: Constance Talmadge as a gum-chewing young person. (7)\nWho steps up the social ladder, husband by husband. A sparkling comedy from which she extracts the maximum fun. Cast includes Jack Mulhall, Zasu Pitts, and Edward Connelly, among others. (June 1924)\n\nThe Golden Bed (8) - A C.B. DeMille picture with amazing sets and terrible acting. (Mar. 1925)\n\nThe Gold Rush (10) - Shrieking comedy and not a little pathos done in Chaplin's inimitable way. (Jan. 1926) PTA-f FCA-a (XXIV)\n\nA Good Bad Boy (6) - A poor imitation of such pictures as \"Boy of Mine\" and \"Penrod.\" (Dec. 1924) (XXXII d)\n\nThe Goose Hangs High (6) - A simple, engrossing story of American home life with an undercurrent of idealism and unselfishness that is very much worth seeing. Excellently done. One of the ten best for this year. (June 1925) PTA-f FCA-y (VII)\n\nThe Goose Woman (7) - Dramatic story of an opera singer who lost her voice.\nThe Governor's Lady (7) - A very fine performance by Louise Dresser. (Feb. 1924)\nThe Miner's Wife (7) - Not well done. (June 1924)\n\nGo West (7) - Buster Keaton attempts to burlesque the golden west and fails. (Feb. 1926) PTA-f (XIII)\nThe Grand Duchess and the Waiter (6) - Enjoyable comedy made more enjoyable by the brilliant work of Florence Vidor and Adolphe Menjou.\nGraustark (6) - Norma Talmadge and Eugene O'Brien in once popular romantic tale by McCutcheon. Hardly more than pretty to look at. (Nov. 1925) PTA-f FCA-a (IH)\nThe Great Divide (8) - A wholly adequate presentation of the William Vaughn Moody classic. Conway Tearle and Alice Terry head the notable cast.\nThe Great White Way (10) Sprightly story of theatre and prize ring, with Anita Stewart, Oscar Shaw, T. Roy Barnes, and a host of really famous people whom we usually see only in news reels. (June 1924)\n\nGreed (10) Von Stroheim's gruesome story of three people who wanted money. Technically fine performances by a uniformly excellent cast, including Gibson Gowland, Jean Hersholt, and Zasu Pitts. (April 1925)\n\nGrit (6) Glenn Hunter and Clara Bow in a half-baked underworld story. (Feb. 1925) PTA-fj (XXXII d)\n\nHelen's Babies (6) The two immortals, Budge and Toddie, who wanted \"to see the wheels go round,\" with the quaint Baby Peggy as the central figure. Children will like it. (Feb. 1925)\n\nHell's Highroad (6) Mediocre story of a money-mad husband who is ruined by his wife's whim. Leatrice Joy and Edmund Burns. (Dec. 1925) (XVIII)\nHer Accidental Husband (6) Melodrama of a man who marries a woman because he feels a sense of duty, as she holds him responsible for the accidental drowning of her father. Starring: Miriam Cooper, Maude Wayne, Forrest Stanley. (Jan. 1924) (XXVIII)\n\nHer Husband's Secret (7) Waste of time for all involved in this production. The Heritage of the Desert (6) General excellence in production of a Zane Grey western. Starring: Bebe Daniels, Lloyd Hughes, Ernest Torrence. (May 1924) (VII)\n\nHer Love Story (6) Sad tale of a princess forced to marry without love. A regulation movie plot for Gloria Swanson. (Dec. 1924) PTA-a (VII)\n\nHer Night of Romance (8) Aimless little farce with Constance Talmadge and Ronald Colman to liven it up. (Feb. 1925) PTA-a FCA-a (III)\n\nHer Temporary Husband (7) Good comedy with Sydney Chaplin giving a capital performance. (Mar. 1924) \u2022 (ni)\nHe's a Prince (5) - A crown prince unhappy with his job. Raymond Griffith brings good comedy; Mary Brian assists. He Who Gets Slapped (7) - One of the well-made pictures of the year with Lon Chaney as the tragic clown. (Mar. 1925) FCA-xIII\n\nHis Children's Children (8) - George Fawcett leads the cast as an old Wall Street pirate. His fight against modern jazz tendency fails to hold his family together. Only fairly interesting despite a well-known cast.\n\nFourth Edition\n\nTheatrical Reviews\n\nHis Hour (7) - Notable for giving John Gilbert a wonderful acting part. An Elinor Glyn story. (Feb. 1925) FCA-xIII\n\nHis Supreme Moment (8) - Fair entertainment. Its merit lies in the good work of the east rather than in the story. Blanche Sweet as an actress and Ronald Colman as an engineer. (Sept. 1925) FCA-iii\nThe House of Youth (Mar. 1925) A chronicle of the jazz age, somewhat disjointed and inane. PTA-f FCA-f (XVIII)\n\nHow Baxter Butted In (Oct. 1925) A well-directed picture about a patient plodder who wants to be a hero but never gets the chance. Matt Moore is splendid as Baxter. PTA-f FCA-y (XXVIII)\n\nHow to Educate a Wife (June 1925) The troubles of a manicurist who marries an insurance agent. Harmless and fairly amusing. Starring Marie Prevost, Monte Blue, and Claude Gillingwater. PTA-f FCA-y (XXVIII)\n\nThe Hunchback of Notre Dame (Apr. 1924) Careful and impressive rendering of a classic, with Lon Chaney as Quasimodo. PTA-a (XXVII)\n\nThe Humming Bird (Oct. 1925) An interesting picture with Gloria Swanson doing an excellent job. (No ratings provided)\nSome of her best work as Toinette, a thief from the Paris slums. (1924)\n\nThe Huntress: A far-fetched but amusing story of a white girl brought up as an Indian, who sets out in her primitive way to catch herself a husband. Colleen Moore, Lloyd Hughes, Walter Long, and Snitz Edwards are featured. (Mar. 1924)\n\nThe Huntress (6)\nA far-fetched but amusing story of a white girl brought up as an Indian, who sets out in her primitive way to catch herself a husband. Colleen Moore, Lloyd Hughes, Walter Long, and Snitz Edwards star. (Mar. 1924)\n\nThe Faithless Wife: A comedy-drama of a faithless wife, with only a good cast to recommend it. (Dec. 1924)\n\nIcebound: A serious drama dealing with repressions and inhibitions of certain New England characters. Carefully done. Lois Wilson and Richard Dix star. (1924)\n\nIf I Marry Again: A heavy melodrama with restraint in direction and a good cast including Doris Kenyon, Anna Q. Nilsson, Myrtle Stedman, Frank Mayo, Lloyd Hughes, and Hobart Bosworth. (Apr. 1925)\n\nIn Every Woman's Life: A melodrama, carefully done but with nothing particularly noteworthy. (1925)\nI. In particular, I recommend the following films: \"Inez from Hollywood\" (Nov. 1924) (III), \"An overdone story with a movie vamp as the central figure\"; \"In Hollywood with Potash and Perlmutter\" (Mar. 1925) (III), \"The well-known partners desert the clothing business for the movies. Not very funny, although it tries to be\"; \"In Search of a Thrill\" (Mar. 1924) (XIII), \"Viola Dana in something different. Light and entertaining\"; \"In the Name of Love\" (Dec. 1925) (VH), \"One of those love stories in which the wealthy lady marries an impostor who turns out to be the real thing. Starring Greta Nissen and Ricardo Cortez\"; \"I Introduce Me\" (Mar. 1926) (VI), \"A nervous young man poses as a champion mountain climber to win the girl he loves. Starring Douglas MacLean.\"\n[The Iron Horse (11) The story of the beginnings of the transcontinental railroads, well filmed and valuable as a historical record. The Iron Horse (Dec. 11)\nIsn't Life Wonderful (9) Following the fortunes of a Polish refugee family in Germany after the war. Carol Dempster and Neil Hamilton do beautiful work. This is D. W. Griffith at his best. (Sept. 1925) FCA-xxiv\nI Want My Man (7) A wartime romance involving a blinded soldier who recovers his sight. Fair work by Milton Sills, and Doris Kenyon. (Oct. 1925)\nJanice Meredith (11) A splendid costume drama of the American Revolutionary period, done with vividness and dignity. Marion Davies, Harrison Ford, and Holbrook Blinn. (May 1925) PTA-f FCA-xiii\nJudgment of the Storm (7) Rural melodrama of mediocre nature, but well executed.]\nTheatrical Reviews:\n\nJust a Woman (7) - Not entirely convincing story of a woman and two men who managed well as long as they were poor, but got into trouble after they made money. Cast: Conway Tearle, Claire Windsor, Percy Marmont. (Mar. 1924) (VIII)\n\nThe King on Main Street (6) - In which royalty takes a little vacation, and then reluctantly goes back to \"kinging.\" Adolphe Menjou is the whole picture. (Oct. 1925) (III)\n\nThe King's Vacation (alternative title for The King on Main Street)\n\nA Kiss for Cinderella (7) - Barrie's pleasant whimsy exquisitely filmed. Delightful for children and even more so for their elders. Betty Bronson and Tom Moore. (Mar. 1926) PTA-fj (VTI)\n\nA Kiss in the Dark (7) - Adolphe Menjou portrays a delightfully wicked fellow who is eternally succumbing to the charm of the nearest girl. Amusing.\nSept. 1925: Kiss Me Again - A slim story transformed into delightful entertainment by the brilliance of direction. (XXVIII)\n\nDec. 1924: The Knockout - Milton Sills as a gentleman prize-fighter in K, Mary Roberts Rinehart's novel, with Virginia Valli and Percy Marmont. (XXVII)\n\nSept. 1924: Ladies to Board - Tom Mix takes on an old ladies' home. Some thrills and laughs. Nothing subtle at all. (IX)\n\nApr. 1925: The Lady - Norma Talmadge gives a good character performance in the best story she has had for some time. (III)\n\nMay 1925: Lady of the Night - An underworld story of very slim proportions, with Norma Shearer playing a double role for no apparent reason. (XIII)\nThe Last Laugh (7) Character sketch of an old doorman of a great hotel. A powerful performance by Emil Janngs. Simple and imaginative production. German production. (Sept. 1925) PTA-f FCA-y (XXVII)\n\nLearning to Love (7) Amusing treatise on a well-known subject. Handled as only Constance Talmadge can. (May, 1925) PTA-f (III)\n\nLend Me Your Husband (6) Poor story, crudely done. (June 1924) (XXXII b)\n\nLightnin' (8) Depicting the lovable old renegade from the Golden stage play. PTA-f FCA-a (IX)\n\nThe Light That Failed (7) Changes in the original Kipling story have weakened it. Percy Marmont gives a good performance as Dick Heldar. (May 1924) (III)\n\nLilies of the Field (9) Dramatic and nicely done if you care for the \"gold digger\" type of story. Corinne Griffith and Conway Tearle. (May 1924) (III)\nLily of the Dust (7) Sudermann's \"Songs of Songs\" filmed by Pola Negri. Drab but exceedingly well done. Decidedly for adults. (November 1924) (VII)\nLittle Annie Rooney (10) Mary Pickford as a twelve-year-old daughter of a New York policeman. Melodramatic, but well done. (March 1926) PTA-f FCA-y (XXIV)\nThe Little French Girl (6) Following the book closely. Picture lacks character detail, but is notable for smooth continuity and quietness of action. Alice Joyce outstanding. (September 1925) FCA-a (VII)\nLittle Old New York (11) Romance with an historical flavor. Marion Davies, a fine supporting cast, and settings by Urban. Children may safely see it. (January 1924) PTA-f (XIII)\nLocked Doors (7) Not a mystery but a highly absurd, emotional sex play. Long Live the King (8) Jackie Coogan as idolized heir to the throne.\nThe imaginary kingdom of Livonia. Entertaining for all, including children. (January 1924) PTA-f (XHI)\n\nLook Your Best. Colleen Moore and Antonio Moreno demonstrate the tragic fact that life is very bitter to the lover of sweets when his job depends on his remaining thin. Fair. (February 1924) (XIII)\n\nLord Jim. Percy Marmont in an interesting version of Conrad's novel. Fourth Edition\n\nTHEATRICAL REVIEWS\n\nThe Lost World. Unusual picture of prehistoric animal life, based on Conan Doyle's novel. Instructive and interesting. Children. (September 1925) PTA-f FCA-y (III)\n\nThe Lover of Camelot. Made over from \"Debureau.\" The sort of thing that should be handled with the lightest touch in the world \u2014 and isn't. (May 1925) (XXVIII)\n\nLovers in Quarantine. Bebe Daniels in an ugly-duckling sort of role. (May 1925)\nHarrison Ford and she make the most of the comedy situations. (December 1925)\n\n(VII)\nLove's Wilderness (7) Corinne Griffith is lovely but the story is negligible. (June 1925)\nM\nMadame Sans Gene (10) Gloria Swanson as a merry laundress who flirted with Napoleon and became the Duchess of Danzig. The accuracy of historical backgrounds and properties is valuable as well as pleasing. (June 1925)\nFCA-y (Vn)\nMade for Love (7) The love story of two young American people against the colorful background of Egypt and the Valley of the Kings. Leatrice Joy and Edmund Burns. (April 1926) (XVIII)\nThe Mail Man (6) Cheaply melodramatic and sentimental. Hardly worth seeing. (February 1924) (VIII)\nThe Man from Brodney's (8) Romantic thriller by Harold McGrath, J. Warren Kerrigan in heroic role. (May 1924) (XXVIII)\nManhandled (7) Gloria Swanson as a comedienne in the role of Tessie. (No date provided)\nClerks in a basement store smile on Richard Dix. Manhattan (6) - A very ordinary story with Richard Dix. (Jan. 1925) PTA-f (VII)\n\nA Man Must Live (6) - An uninteresting newspaper story about a girl stolen in infancy from her parents, who becomes involved in a murder scandal and comes under her own father's jurisdiction. Starring Dolores Costello, Alice Joyce, and Warner Baxter. (Apr. \n\nThe Man on the Box (8) - An old tale livened up by Syd Chaplin's humor. No plot, but it isn't needed. (Jan. 1926) (XXVHI)\n\nThe Man Who Came Back (9) - A stage success that fizzles out on the screen.\n\nThe Man Without a Heart (6) - A bachelor brother tries to straighten out his sister's marital difficulties with marked lack of success. Not well handled.\nThe Marriage Circle (9) Sophisticated comedy with Ernst Lubitsch's inimitable direction and shrewd choice of principals: Adolphe Menjou, Florence Vidor, and Marie Prevost. (Sept. 1924)\n\nThe Marriage Maker (6) Concerning English people who marry for money rather than love. A faun, a mythological creature half god, half man, supposed to have vanished from the earth ages ago, causes adventures in their midst. A charming idea spoiled by too literal interpretation. (Mar. 1924)\n\nMarried Flirts (7) Well-presented with Pauline Frederick as a middle-aged woman who turns siren. (Apr. 1925)\n\nMaytime (6) Light, pleasant romance of the Crinoline days. Ethel Shannon, Harrison Ford, and Wallace McDonald star. (May 1924)\nThe Meanest Man in the World (6) Bert Lytell, the man with the heart of stone, comes to foreclose the mortgage but remains to fall in love with Blanche Sweet. (Feb. 1924) (ni)\n\nThe Merry Widow (10) A distinguished cast and a genius of a director make a remarkably satisfactory picture out of pure fluff. Mae Murray, John Gilbert, and Roy D'Arcy. (Jan. 1926) (XIII)\n\nMerton of the Movies (8) A prize combination of story, star, and director. Far and away the best of the stories in which the ambitious youth makes a name in the movies. Humor and pathos subtly mingled. (Dec. 1924) PTA-f FCA-y (VII)\n\nThe Midshipman (8) Ramon Novarro in a comedy drama of life at Annapolis. Quite harmless, but correspondingly lifeless. (Jan. 1926) PTA-f j (XIII)\n\nThe Mine with the Iron Door (7) Typical western material of Harold Bell. (Feb. 1925) (VII)\nWright with Dorothy Mackaill and Pat O'Malley in the leads, and good Indian characterization by Robert Fraser. (January 1925)\nPTA-f FCA-y (III)\n\nTheatrical Reviews\n\nMiss Bluebeard (7) - French farce and Bebe Daniels don't go together, especially as the material is poor. (March 1925) (VII)\nMile. Midnight (7) - Mae Murray in a typical Mexican story with an American hero in person of Monte Blue. (June 1924) (XIII)\nMonsieur Beaucaire (9) - Valentino in a very beautiful version of the novel. Bebe Daniels and Lowell Sherman outshine the star. (November 1924) PTA-f FCA-y (VII)\n\nThe Monster (7) - A thoroughly unpleasant picture about a madman with scientific leanings who gets control of a sanitorium and terrorizes everybody in the cast. Lon Chaney as the monster. (September 1925) (XIII)\n\nMothers-in-Law (6) - Trite and trivial. (April 1924) (XXXII c)\nMy son, Nazimova, approximates some of her best work in this well-directed picture of mother love. Jack Pickford and Constance Bennett also star. The Mystic, Conway Tearle plays a skillful crook who uses a gypsy fortune teller and her family as tools in a blackmailing scheme. N.\n\nName the Man\nUnder the skillful direction of Victor Seastrom, this is a connected story of some interest, despite its gloomy nature. Taken from a novel by Hall Caine, the theme is of a wronged girl brought up to be judged by the man who caused her downfall. The cast includes Mae Busch, Patsy Ruth Miller, Conrad Nagel, and Creighton Hale. (Apr. 1924) (XIII)\n\nThe Navigator\nBuster Keaton at his solemn funniest, adrift on a deserted ocean liner. (Feb. 1925) PTA-f FCA-f (XIII)\n\nNellie, the Beautiful Cloak Model\nThe old melodrama with a de-luxe production.\nNever Say Die (June 1924) (XIII)\nDouglas MacLean puts this comedy over with great effort. Not bad, but not his best. (Nov. 1924) PTA-f (II)\n\nNever the Twain Shall Meet (Nov. 1925) FCA-a (XIII)\nA dull treatment of \"East is East and West is West\" with Anita Stewart and Bert Lytell. (Nov. 1925)\n\nNever Weaken (II)\nHarold Lloyd's thrilling and comical adventures of a youth atop the framework of a sky-scraper. (Apr. 1925) FCA-f (III)\n\nThe New Commandment (Feb. 1926) (III)\nA romance of the war, with Blanche Sweet and Ben Lyon. Only fair.\n\nNew Toys (Apr. 1925) FCA-f (III)\nRichard Barthelmess playing farce with decided lack of success.\n\nThe Next Corner (Apr. 1924) (VII)\nAbout a wife who leaves her husband and comes back to him without his ever discovering that she went. Dorothy Mackaill, Ricardo Cortez, and Conway Tearle.\n[The Night Club (6) - Raymond Griffith at his funniest. Minimal plot.\nNorth of Hudson Bay (5) - Tom Mix in a typical outdoors story with thrills and beautiful snow scenes. (Mar. 1924) (IX)\nNorth of 36 (10) - Carefully patterned after \"The Covered Wagon,\" but lacking its inspiration. However, it retains interest as a romance of the west. Lois Wilson, Jack Holt, Ernest Torrence, and Noah Beery. (Feb. 1925)\nFCA-y (VII)\nNot One to Spare (6) - Taken from an old poem about a rich man who offers his poor brother great wealth in return for one of the latter's seven children. Simply presented, and well acted, with Ethel Wales as the mother. Children. (Sept. 1925) (XVIII)\nA Little Romance in New York about a hundred years ago. Betty Bronson and Ricardo Cortez make it fairly interesting.]\n[Doctor Regan, played by Reginald Denny, is delightful in Harry Leon Wilson's neurotic hero story. (Mar. 1925, PTA-f, XXVII). Old Home Week features Thomas Meighan in a typical George Ade story, not particularly interesting. (Sept. 1925, PTA-f, VII). One Way Street offers a poky rendering of the rejuvenation theme with Anna Q. Nilsson and Ben Lyon. (June 1925, III). The Only Thing presents a highly improbable romance in Elinor Glyn's fervid style with Eleanor Boardman and Conrad Nagel. (Apr. 1926, PTA-f, XIII). The Only Woman showcases Norma Talmadge's usual poise and skill in an ineffectual story with Eugene O'Brien as the male lead. (Jan. 1925, III). On Thin Ice delivers a moderately interesting crook story with Tom Moore, William Russell, and Edith Roberts. (June 1925, XXVIII).\n\nFourth Edition\n\nTheatrical Reviews\n\nBuster Keaton and his family parody the customs in Our Hospitality. (7)]\nThe Pace that Thrills: An inane tale of a movie idol whose popularity was endangered because he used a double for dangerous stunts. The Painted Flapper: A pleasant though improbable little story of youthful ambitions and dreams fulfilled. Starring Ben Lyon, Mary Alden, Charles Murray, Mary Carr, and Russell Simpson. (March 1924)\n\nPTA-f (III)\n\nPaths to Paradise: A joyous adventure into Crookland, personally conducted by Raymond Griffith and Betty Compson. Harmless enough for children. (October 1925) PTA-f (VII)\n\nPeter Pan: The fairy tale par excellence, with Betty Bronson heading the cast. (April 1924) PTA-f (X)\nThe Phantom of the Opera (10) The gruesome story of a madman who lives in the vaulted cellars of the Paris Opera. Lon Chaney in one of his most ghastly make-ups. Beautiful and elaborate settings. (Feb. 1926) PTA-a (XXVH)\n\nPied Piper Malone (7) An attractive combination of Booth Tarkington and Thomas Meighan, with the star playing uncle to a throng of children. Good support by Lois Wilson, Emma Dunn, and George Fawcett. (April)\n\nThe Pony Express (10) The historical drama, made interesting as well as instructive by good casting and direction. Ernest Torrence, Wallace Beery, Ricardo Cortez, George Bancroft, and Betty Compson. (Dec. 1925) PTA-f FCA-y (VII)\n\nPretty Ladies (6) Romance of a Follies headliner and the drummer. (January)\nThe Orchestra (7) Unusually pleasing comedy performances by Eleanor Boardman, Pat O'Malley, and Harrison Ford. Directed by King Vidor. (Sept. 1925)\n\nQuo Vadis (9) Italian production with Emil Jannings as a lively caricature of Nero. Adequate settings and effective mob scenes. (June 1925)\n\nRacing Luck (6) Cheerful farce with plenty of thrills. Helen Ferguson and Monte Banks. (Sept. 1924)\n\nReckless Romance (6) A really funny story. Seasoned comedians as T. Roy Barnes, Harry Myers, Jack Duffy, and Lincoln Plumer, with Sylvia Breamer, Wanda Hawley, and Tully Marshall in addition. (May 1925)\n\nThe Re-Creation of Brian Kent (6) Harold Bell Wright's story of a bank clerk's downfall and redemption through a kindly stranger. (1925)\nThe Red Lily (6) A drab and pointless story set in the underworld of Paris. The Rendezvous (7) A sombre Russian story with Sydney Chaplin as the only ray of light. Canrad Nagel and Lucille Ricksen star. (June 1924)\n\nReno (7) Capitalizing the widely varying divorce laws of these United States. It may be good propaganda but the story is weak. Helene Chadwick, Carmel Myers, Dale Fuller, Lew Cody, and George Walsh feature. (Mar. 1924)\n\nRichard the Lion Hearted (7) \"The Talisman\" well filmed with Wallace Beery as Richard. The cast includes Marguerite de la Motte, Kathleen Clifford, and John Bowers. (Sept. 1924)\n\nPTA-y (XXIV)\n\nRosita (10) Mary Pickford stars in a beautiful version of \"Don Cesar de Bazan.\" One of the rare occasions when she plays an adult role, that of a seductive Spanish princess. (No date mentioned)\nRuggles of Red Gap (Jan. 1924) - The joyous chronicle of the Flood family and their social struggles, along with the history of Ruggles, the extraordinary valet, who was won from his English employer in a poker game and given the task of making Egbert Flood presentable. Ernest Torrence at his funniest. Edward Everett Horton as Ruggles. (Feb. 1924)\n\nSackcloth and Scarlet (Jan. 1925) - Story of a willful girl whose elder sister takes the blame for her misdoings. Halting continuity and unconvincing cast. A Sainted Devil (Jan. 1925) - Rudolph Valentino in a Spanish melodrama, not overly convincing. Sally (June 1925) - Colleen Moore in the film edition of a musical comedy success. Leon Errol amusing in support. Well produced. Children. (June 1925)\nSally, Irene, and Mary: Story of three show girls (Apr. 1926) (XIII)\nSalome of the Tenements: The wealthy philanthropist and the ambitious tenement child who eventually marries him. Jetta Goudal and Godfrey Tearle. (Feb. 1924)\nScaramouche: Rex Ingram's fine picture of the French Revolution with Lewis Stone as the outstanding figure. The historical background surpasses anything of the kind that has been done so far. (Feb. 1924) (XIII)\nThe Sea Hawk: Milton Sills in a spectacular romance of the seventeenth century. Excellently produced. (Sept. 1924) (III)\nSecrets of the Night: A combination of melodrama, mystery, and comedy. Not well handled despite a good cast. (May 1925) (XVIII)\nSeven Keys to Baldpate: Farcical adventures of an author who retires. (July 1925) (VII)\nTo a deserted summer hotel to write a book. Douglas MacLean, center of Shadow of the East (6). Another \"Sheik\" with a little Hindu mysticism thrown in. (May 1924) (IX)\n\nShadows of Paris. Pola Negri finds expression for her emotional ability in a tense story of the Apache world of Paris. A good cast including Charles de Roche, Huntly Gordon, and Adolphe Menjou. (Apr. 1924) (VII)\n\nThe Shepherd King. A heavily spectacular presentation of the Bible story, filmed in Italy and Palestine. Undistinguished by either good direction or good acting. (May 1924) PTA-f (IX)\n\nSherlock Jr. Buster Keaton detects crime in the most approved style. A good laugh for the whole family. (Sept. 1924) (XIII)\n\nThe Shock Punch. Richard Dix as a structural steel worker. Thrills and fun, without much plot to worry you. (Oct. 1925) PTA-f (VII)\nThe Shooting of Dan McGrew (June 1924) (XIII)\nShore Leave (November 1925)\nRichard Barthelmess is satisfactory in a quiet little comedy of sailor life. Dorothy Mackaill in support.\n\nThe Sideshow of Life (November 1924)\nA story of a clown who rose above his surroundings. Ernest Torrence somewhat miscast as the clown, and Anna Q. Nilsson, Louise Lagrange, and Neil Hamilton.\n\nThe Silent Accuser (November 1924)\nStarring the police dog in a mediocre story.\n\nSinners in Silk (January 1925) (XIII)\nA lot of good players wasted.\n\nThe Siren of Seville (February 1925) (XVIII)\nPriscilla Dean's whirlwind tactics fit nicely into a Spanish story.\n\nSix Cylinder Love (February 1925)\nFarce, dealing humorously with the woes of a young couple who mortgage their home to buy a car, and prove the truth of the adage.\nIt isn't the original cost\u2014it's the upkeep. (Mar. 1924)\nSix Days. (Jan. 1924) Fine direction and a good cast wasted on one of Elinor Glynn's stories.\nThe Snob. (May 1925) Sound American drama with John Gilbert giving a fine performance as a man who is ashamed of his family.\nSo Big. (May 1924) Colleen Moore and a fine cast do wonders with faulty continuity.\nA Society Scandal. (May 1924) (VII) Gloria Swanson as an impulsive wife whose mild indiscretions bring on a divorce. Rod LaRocque as the lawyer.\nThe Song of Love. (August 1924) An Arab love story with Norma Talmadge as a dancing girl amid much plotting. Joseph Schildkraut plays opposite, and Edmund Carewe gives a splendid performance as a desert chieftain.\nA Son of His Father (Mar. 1924) III\nA Harold Bell Wright western decently done. Warner Baxter and Bessie Love. (Dec. 1925) III\n\nA Son of the Sahara (Aug. 1924) III\nAnother \"Sheik\" picture. Its sole virtue lies in the setting \u2013 it's really the Sahara. (Oct. 1924) III\n\nSo This is Marriage (Oct. 1925) XIII\nThe triangle, with Lew Cody causing trouble between Eleanor Boardman and Conrad Nagel. Fair.\n\nSoul Fire (Sept. 1925) III\nA dramatic story of a composer, with a highly emotional part for Richard Barthelmess. PTA-a III\n\nThe Spaniard (June 1925) VII\nRicardo Cortez gives a sparkling performance as the ardent lover who carries off his lady and imprisons her in his castle. Good Spanish atmosphere. Jetta Goudal and Noah Beery.\nThe Splendid Crime (6) - A crook story with a neat little moral. Bebe Daniels and Neil Hamilton. (Mar. 1926) PTA-f (VII)\nSporting Life (7) - Drury Lane melodrama, spectacular and exciting. Bert Lytell, Marion Nixon. (Mar. 1926) PTA-a (XXVII)\nSporting Youth (7) - Plenty of go about this racing picture. The engaging Reginald Denny at the wheel. Laura La Plante in support. (Sept. 1924) PTA-XXVII\nStage Struck (7) - Jenny, the waitress, loves Orme, the pancake artist, and because he is infatuated with actresses of all kinds, she endeavors to make an actress of herself in order to win him. Good comedy with Gloria Swanson and Lawrence Gray. (Jan. 1926) PTA-f (VII)\nStephen Steps Out (6) - A new way to learn Turkish history. A boy's adventures under the Star and Crescent, thoroughly entertaining. Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Theodore Roberts, Noah Beery, Harry Mvers and others.\nChildren will enjoy it, especially boys. (Mar. 1924) \"PTA-y (VII)\"\nThe Story Without a Name (7) An exaggerated thriller by Arthur Stringer, featuring Agnes Ayres and Antonio Moreno. (Dec. 1924) (VII)\nThe Stranger (6) Galsworthy's study of a self-satisfied man who allows an innocent man to die for a crime rather than involve his name and reputation in scandal. Emphasis is placed on the stranger substituted for the real criminal. Fine production, with Lewis Stone, Richard Dix, Tull Marshall, and Betty Uompson. (May 1924) (VII)\nSundown (9) An excellent though somewhat melancholy record of the passing of cattle men and cattle country. Bessie Love, Roy Stewart, Hobart Bosworth, and Charles Murrav. (Nov. 1924) PTA-f FCA-f (ni)\nSun-Uo (7) Unconvincing story of Kentuck mountaineers and the war. Pauline Starke, and Conrad Nagel. (Oct. 1925) PTA-a (XIII)\nThe Swan (7) A clever stage play performed to death in the film. (Apr. 1925)\n\nTarnish (7) A nicely balanced filming of Gilbert Emery's stage play. May McAvoy, Marie Prevost, Ronald Colman. Excellent impersonation by Albert Gran of a philandering father. (Feb. 1925)\n\nThe Temple of Venus (7) Cheap, trashy, and sensational. (Feb. 1924)\n\nThe Ten Commandments (14) The Biblical prologue magnificently done and wholly worthwhile. The rest of the story is average but in the main interesting. Theodore Roberts, Richard Dix, Rod LaRocque, Leatrice Joy, Nita Naldi, and Edythe Chapman included in a fine cast. (Sept. 1924)\n\nTess of the D'Urbervilles (8) Unconvincing despite some fine moments in the acting of Blanche Sweet and Conrad Nagel. (Nov. 1924)\n\nThank You (7) The popular Golden stage play. (IX)\nThe Thief of Bagdad (10) Sheer beauty and imagination carried to the nth degree, with Douglas Fairbanks moving through it poetically. (Sept. 1924) FCA-f (XXIV)\n\nA Thief in Paradise (8) A long-lost-son story with Ronald Colman as the good bad man. Bad psychology. (Mar. 1925) PTA-a (III)\n\nThose Who Dance (7) Relating the adventure of a prohibition agent, with plenty of action. In some respects, a telling piece of propaganda against bootleggers and rum runners. Warner Baxter, Blanche Sweet, and Bessie Love. (June 1924) (XIII)\n\nTheatrical Reviews\n\nThrough the Dark (8) \"Boston Blackie\" escapes from prison with the aid of a school girl. A thrilling tale of his efforts to go straight. Colleen Moore and Forrest Stanley. (Apr. 1924) (XIII)\nThe Thundering Herd (7) Concerning the vanishing buffalo herds of the western plains. Some historical value. (Apr. 1925)\nThunder Mountain (8) John Golden's play of circus life. (FCA-y, VII)\nThy Name is Woman (9) A Spanish tragedy with Barbara La Marr as a siren and Ramon Novarro as her victim. Has its points as a character study. (Jan. 1924) (XXVIII)\nTiger Rose (8) Vivid drama of the far north, concerning a French Canadian girl who protects her fugitive lover from the law. Lenore Ulrich and a good cast. (Jan. 1924)\nTomorrow's Love (6) Frail little comedy of the domestic ups and downs of a young couple. Agnes Ayres and Pat O'Malley. (Mar. 1925) (VII)\nTongues of Flame (7) Thomas Meighan as a kind-hearted lawyer befriends the Indians. Weak stuff. (Jan. 1925) PTA-f (VII)\nToo Many Kisses (6) Richard Dix finds romance in Spain. Very light. (Jan. 1925)\nTo the Ladies: A comedy about a wife whose wit and resourcefulness got her husband a good position. September 1925 (VII)\nThe Tower of Lies: Drab story of peasant life with Lon Chaney as a demented farmer who imagines himself an emperor. January 1926 (XIII)\nTriumph: An idle young man loses his money and position as president of a tin can factory, but starts again at the bottom and works up. June 1924 (PTA-f) (VII)\nThe Trouble with Wives: Routine comedy brightened by good performances of Florence Vidor, Ford Sterling and Tom Moore. November 1925 (VH)\nThe Turmoil: A sane and believable version of Booth Tarkington's story. June 1924 (PTA-y) (VII)\nThe Good Comedy: A comedy about a wife whose wit and resourcefulness got her husband a good position. Edward Everett Horton, Helen Jerome Eddy, and Theodore Roberts.\nThe Tower of Lies: A drab story of peasant life with Lon Chaney as a demented farmer who imagines himself an emperor.\nTriumph: The idle young man loses his money and position as president of a tin can factory, but starts again at the bottom and works up. Rod LaRocque and Leatrice Joy.\nThe Trouble with Wives: A routine comedy brightened by good performances of Florence Vidor, Ford Sterling and Tom Moore.\nThe Turmoil: A sane and believable version of Booth Tarkington's story.\nThe Middle West: George Hackathorne and Emmett Corrigan, a capable cast (Dec. 1924) (XXVH)\n$20 A Week: A rich man's whimsical adventures as a $20-dollar-a-week clerk. George Arliss contributes one of his finely drawn portraits and some quiet comedy to a rather hit-or-miss story. Edith Roberts, Taylor Holmes, and Ronald Colman. (May 1924) PTA-f (II)\nTwenty-One: Richard Barthelmess and Dorothy Mackaill are natural and refreshing in this youthful romance. (Mar. 1924) PTA-a (VII)\nThe Unguarded Hour: Milton Sills as an Italian woman hater; Doris Kenyon as the girl who gets around him. Rather silly. (Feb. 1926) (HI)\nThe Unholy Three: Unusual story of three ill-assorted companions who form an unlikely alliance. (Mar. 1926) (L-11)\nThe Criminal Partner. Starring Lon Chaney, Victor MacLaglen, and Harry Earles. (November 1925) PTA-a FCA-a (XHI)\n\nUnseeing Eyes. Featuring Seena Owen and Lionel Barrymore. (January 1925) (XHI)\n\nThe Vanishing American. An epic of the Indian race, with a few inaccuracies but excellently done and very impressive. Starring Richard Dix, Lois Wilson, and Noah Beery. (March 1926) PTA-f FCA-y (VII)\n\nThe Virginian. Conscientiously screened adaptation of Owen Wister's western classic. With Kenneth Harlan in the title role, Florence Vidor, Pat O'Malley, Russell Simpson, and Raymond Hatton. (April 1924) (XXXn c)\n\nWages of Virtue. Gloria Swanson in a clever character delineation. (June 1926)\nAn Italian girl. Good support from Norman Trevor, Ben Lyon, and Ivan Linov.\n\nWanderer of the Wasteland (8) - A Zane Grey film, entirely in color. Well done. Jack Holt, Billie Dove, Noah Beery, and Kathlyn Williams. (Nov. 1924) PTA-f (VII)\n\nThe Wanters (7) - A rich young man marries a servant girl with the usual unhappy results. Well made and entertaining, with Marie Prevost and Robert Ellis. (Jan. 1924) PTA-a (III)\n\nThe Way of a Girl (6) - A bright little satire on the routine movie plot. Eleanor Boardman and Matt Moore. (Sept. 1925) (Xin)\n\nThe Wedding Song (7) - A crook story of some interest with Leatrice Joy and Robert Ames. (Jan. 1926) (XVIII)\n\nFourth Edition\n\nTheatrical Reviews\n\nWelcome Home (6) - The simple tale of a father who came to live with his children and wasn't wanted, told with sincerity and understanding.\nJames Cruze and a fine cast including Luke Cosgrave, Lois Wilson, and Warner appear in \"We Moderns\" (1926) (IE), a story of modern youth. It doesn't quite make the grade.\n\n\"West of the Water Tower\" (1926) is based on the much-discussed novel of the same name. Glenn Hunter makes a pathetic and appealing figure of Guy Plummer, and Ernest Torrence gives a fine portrait of Adrian Plummer.\n\n\"When a Man's a Man\" (1924) (III) is trite, sentimental, but well-acted and features beautiful natural settings. John Bowers, Marguerite de la Motte, June Marlowe, and Robert Fraser star as children.\n\n\"The White Rose\" (1924) (XXIV) is a love story in Louisiana, with a wronged heroine being turned out under magnolia blossoms instead of snowflakes. Mae Marsh, Carol Dempster, and Ivor Novello star, with D.W. Griffith directing.\nThe White Sister (11) Marion Crawford's story of love, loyalty, and renunciation. Lillian Gish and Ronald Colman in beautiful and poignant characterizations. Splendid direction by Henry King, and lovely scenes from Italy. (April 1924) PTA-xIII\n\nWhy Men Leave Home (8) Mildly entertaining story of domestic difficulties. Helene Chadwick, Mary Carr and Lewis Stone. (May 1924) IU\n\nWhy Worry (6) Harold Lloyd in the midst of a South American revolution. (II)\n\nThe Wife of the Centaur (7) Sordid, at best. John Gilbert plays the Centaur with understanding, and Aileen Pringle and Eleanor Boardman offer good support. (June 1925) - XIII\n\nWild Bill Hickok (8) Bill Hart as reformed gunman. Not unusual. (March 1924) VII\n\nWild Horse Mesa (7) Good western picture with a good cast headed by\nJack Holt and Billie Dove. Beautiful backgrounds. Children. (Nov. 1925) PTA-a (VII)\n\nWild Oranges (7) Strange and vivid character study, gloomy withal, but with fine acting and direction. Virginia Valli, Nigel de Brulier, Frank Mayo, Ford Sterling, and Charles Post. Story by Hergesheimer. (Apr. 1924) PTA-a (XIII)\n\nWild, Wild Susan (6) Bebe Daniels and Rod LaRocque in a routine comedy. Wine of Youth (7) The clash between the modern girl and her elders. Well done and interesting, with Eleanor Boardman, Pauline Garon, Ben Lyon, William Haines, Buster Collier, and Bobby Agnew representing the younger generation, and Eulalie Jensen and Gertrude Claire the older. (Apr. 1925) (xm)\n\nThe Wise Virgin (6) No excuse for this. (Feb. 1925) (XVIII)\n\nThe Wizard of Oz (7) The Frank Baum fairytale, spoiled for children and others.\nEverybody else by Larry Semon's slapstick methods. (Oct. 1925)\nWomanhandled - Richard Dix in good burlesque of the usual \"western.\" (Mar. 1926) (VTI)\nA Woman of Paris - The first serious drama directed by Charles Chaplin. A highly sophisticated story with limited appeal. Direction subtle and revolutionary in treatment. (Apr. 1924) (XXIV)\nThe Woman on the Jury - An interesting study of a woman who must choose between duty and happiness. Dramatic story, capably handled by Sylvia Breamer, Bessie Love, Frank Mayo, and Lew Cody. (June 1924) (III)\nWorldly Goods - A fluffy little comedy of married life with Agnes Ayres and Pat O'Malley. (May 1925) (VII)\nThe Yankee Consul - Douglas MacLean's thrilling and amusing adventures. (7)\nYou Can't Get Away With It - Nothing to recommend this. (Mar. 1924)\nZander  the  Great  (8)  Marion  Davies  as  a  waif  whose  adventures  in  the  west \ninclude  falling  in  love  with  bootlegger.     Comedy  well  handled.  (Dec.  1925) \nPTA-f  (XIII) \nZaza  (7)  Gloria  Swanson  acquits  herself  very  well  indeed  as  a  French \nactress  who  has  fought  her  way  up  from  the  streets  to  shine  ultimately  in  the \nOpera  Comique.   (Feb.  1924)  (VII* \nADDITIONAL  FILMS  RECOMMENDED  BY  THE  PARENT- \nTEACHER  ASSOCIATIONS  (PTA)  AND  FILM  COUNCILS  OF \nAMERICA  (FCA). \nThis  is  a  complete  list  of  films  recommended  by  these  organizations \nsince  March,  1924,  which  do  not  appear  among  those  already  indicated \nas  recommended  in  the  \"Theatrical  Film  Reviews\"  preceding.  The  PTA \nrecommendations  are  for  Family  (F)  and  for  Adult  (A).  The  letter \nJ  means  particularly  good  for  children.  The  FCA  recommendations  are \nfor  Family    (A),  Youth    (Y),   and  Adult  (A). \nPTA  FCA  Distributor \nThe Ancient Highway (Jack Holt) A (VII)\nThe Ancient Mariner (Earle Williams) F (IX)\nThe Arab (Ramon Navarro) F (XIII)\nAs No Man Has Loved (Edmund Lowe) A (IX)\nBarbara Frietchie (Florence Vidor) Y (XVIII)\nThe Barrier (Norman Kerry) A (XIII)\nThe Bat (Jack Pickford) F (XXIV)\nBeauty and the Bad Man (Mabel Ballin) F (XVIII)\nThe Bedroom Window (Ethel Wales) F (VII)\nBehind the Front (Wallace Beery) F (VII)\nThe Beloved Vagabond (Carlville Blackwell) F (VIII)\nBelow the Line (Rin-Tin-Tin) F (XXVIII)\nBen-Hur (Ramon Navarro) F (XIII)\nThe Best People (Warner Baxter) F (VII)\nThe Blackbird (Lon Chaney) F (XIII)\nBlack Cyclone (Rex, the wonderful horse) F (XV)\nThe Blind Goddess (Jack Holt) F (VII)\nBluebeard's Seven Wives (Lois Wilson) F (III)\nBlueblood (George Walsh) F (XXXII)\nBobbed Hair (Marie Prevost) F (XXVIII)\nA Boy of Flanders (Jackie Coogan) FJ (XIII)\nBread (Mae Busch) A A (XIII)\nBride of the Storm (Dolores Costello) A (XXVIII)\nBroadway Boob (Glenn Hunter) F (II)\nBroken Hearts (Lila Lee) F (XXXII)\nCalifornia Straight Ahead (Reginald Denny) F (XXVI)\nThe Calgary Stampede (Hoot Gibson) F Y (XXV)\nCaptain January (Babara Pegg) FJ (XXXII)\nThe Cave Man (Matt Moore) F (XXVIII)\nChip of the Flying U (Hoot Gibson) F (XXVII)\nThe Clean Heart (Percy Marmont) A (XXVIII)\nThe Cohens and the Kellys (Charlie Murray) F (XXVII)\nThe Coming of Amos (Rod LaRocque) A (XVIII)\nThe Count of Luxembourg (George Walsh) F (XXXII)\nThe Country Kid (Charles Ray) F (XXVIII)\nThe Cowboy and the Countess (Hoot Gibson) F (IX)\nThe Cracker Jack (Johnny Hines) F (XXXII)\nThe Crown of Lies (Pola Negri) F (VII)\nThe Deerslayer F (III)\nDesert Gold (Robert Frazer) A (XVIII)\nThe Dixie Merchant (Madge Bellamy) ... F (IX)\nA Dog's Life (Charlie Chaplin) .. F (XV)\nThe Early Bird (Johnny Hines) F (XXXII b)\nEmpty Hands (Norma Shearer) A (VII)\nThe Enchanted Hill (Florence Vidor) F (VII)\nThe Everlasting Whisper (Tom Mix) F * (IX)\nThe Far Cry (Blanche Sweet) F (III)\nThe Fighting Edge (Kenneth Harlan) F (XXVIIT)\nThe Fighting Heart (George O'Brien) F (IX)\nFighting the Flames (Dorothy Devore) F (XXXII i)\nFind Your Man (Rin-Tin-Tin) F (XXVIII)\nThe First Year (Matt Moore) F (IX)\nThe Fool (Edmund Lowe) A (IX)\nFourth Edition\nAdditional Recommended Films\nPTA FCA Distributor\nForbidden Waters (Priscilla Dean) F (XVIII)\nFor Heaven's Sake (Harold Lloyd) F (VII)\nThe Golden Princess (Betty Bronson) F (VII)\nThe Golden Strain (Madge Bellamy) F (IX)\nThe Good Bad Man (Tom Mix) F (IX)\nThe Great Love (Viola Dana) FJ (VII)\nHands Up (Raymond Griffith) F (VII)\nHappiness (Laurette Taylor) * F (XIU)\nHead Winds (House Peters) F (XXVII)\nHearts and Spurs (Buck Jones) F (IX)\nHer Fatal Millions (Shirley Mason) F (XIII)\nHis People (Rudolph Schildkraut) F (XXVII)\nHis Secretary (Norma Shearer) F (XIII)\nHold Your Breath (Dorothy Devore) F (XVIII)\nThe Home Maker (Alice Joyce) F (XXVII)\nIbanez's \"Torrent\" (Greta Garbo) A (XTJI)\nI'll Show You the Town (Reginald Denny) F (XXVH)\nIn Borrowed Plumes (Liles Welsh) F (XXXng)\nInfatuation (Corinne Griffith) A (III)\nIrene (Colleen Moore) A (III)\nIrish Luck (Thomas Meighan) F (VII)\nJust Suppose (Richard Barthelmess) F (III)\nKing of the Turf (Kenneth Harlan) F (VIII)\nKivalina of the Icelands (Eskimo Life) FJ (XV)\nLadies of Leisure (Elaine Hammerstein) F (XXXLT i)\nLady Windermere's Fan (Irene Rich) A (XXVIH)\nThe Last Edition (Ralph Lewis) F (VHI)\nLast of the Duanes (Tom Mix) F (IX)\nThe Law Forbids (Babe Peggy) FJ (XXVII)\nLazy Bones (Madge Bellamy) F (IX)\nThe Levenworth Case F (XXVHI)\nLegend of Hollywood F (XVIII)\nLife's Greatest Game F (VHI)\nThe Lighthouse by the Sea F (XXVIII)\nThe Light of Western Stars (Jack Holt) F (VII)\nLights of Old Broadway (Marion Davies) F (XLH)\nThe Littlest Giant (Glenn Hunter) F (XXVII)\nLittle Robinson Crusoe (Jackie Coogan) FJ F (XIII)\nThe Live Wire (John Hines) F (III)\nLorraine of the Lions (Patsy Ruth Miller) F (XXVn)\nLovey (Mary) F (Xni)\nMadame Behave (Julian Eltinge) F (XVIII)\nThe Making of O'Malley (Milton Sills) F (' III)\nThe Man From Red Gulch (Harry Carey) F (XVIII)\nThe Man in Blue (Herbert Rawlinson) F (XXVII)\nThe Man Upstairs (Monte Blue) F (XXVIII)\nThe Man Who Found Himself (Thomas Meighan) ... F (VII)\nMemory Lane (Conrad Xagel) A (III)\nThe Midnight Flyer (Cullen Landis) F (XIII)\nThe Million Dollar Handicap (Vera Reynolds)...... F (XVIII)\nMiss Brewster's Millions (Bebe Daniels) F (VII)\nMonte Carlo (Lew Cody) F (XIII)\nMy Own Pal (Tom Mix) F (IX)\nThe Mysterious Stranger (Richard Talmadge) F (IX)\nNew Brooms (Bessie Love) F (VII)\nThe New Klondike (Thomas Meighan) F (VII)\nThe Night Cry (Rin-Tin-Tin) F (XXVII)\nThe Nut Cracker (Edward Horton) F (II)\nOld Clothes (Jackie Coogan) F (XI)\nOn the Threshold (Henry B. Walthall) F (XVIII)\nThe Outsider (Jacqueline Logan) F (IX)\n112 ADDITIONAL RECOMMENDED FILMS \"1000 and One\"\nPTA FCA Distributor\n0. U. West (Lefty Flynn) F (VIII)\nPercy (Charles Ray) F (XV)\nPhantom of the Forest F (XXXII j)\nThe Police Patrol James Kirkwood A (XXXII j)\nPowder River F (IX)\nPrinter's Devil Wesley Barry FJ (XXVIII)\nRaffles House Peters A (XXVII)\nThe Rag Man Jackie Coogan FJ Y (XIII)\nRainbow Riley Johnny Hines F (HI)\nThe Reckless Lady Lois Moran A (III)\nRed Hot Tires Patsy Ruth Miller F (XXVHI)\nA Regular Fellow Raymond Griffith F (VII)\nRiders of the Purple Sage Tom Mix F (IX)\nThe Ridin' Fool Fred Thomson F (VIH)\nThe Ridin' Kid from Powder River Hoot Gibson F (XXVTI)\nThe Road to Glory May McAvoy F (IX)\nRomola Lillian Gish F (XIH)\nRose of the World Patsy Ruth Miller F (XXVffl)\nRugged Waters Lois Wilson F (Vn)\nSally of the Sawdust Carol Dempster A Y (XXIV)\nThe Scarlet West Johnny Walker F (III)\nA School for Wives (Conway Tearle) F (XXVI)\nThe Sea Beast (John Barrymore) F (XXVHI)\nSea Horses (Jack Holt) F (VII)\nSeven Days (Lillian Rich) F (XVIII)\nSeven Sinners (Marie Prevost) F (XXVIH)\nThe Shadow on the Wall (Eileen Percy) F (XXXHj)\nThe Ship of Souls (Bert Lytell) A (II)\nSiege (Mary Alden) F (XXVII)\nThe Signal Tower (Virginia Valli) A (XXVH)\nThe Silent Watcher (Glenn Hunter) F (LU)\nSimon the Jester (Eugene O'Brien) F (XVni)\nA Social Celebrity (Adolphe Menjou) F (VII)\nThe Song and Dance Man (Tom Moore) F (Vn)\nSoul Mates (Aileen Pringle) A (XIII)\nSpeed (Betty Blythe) F (XXXIIh)\nSteele of the Royal Mounted (Bert Lytell) A (XXVIH)\nSteel Preferred (Vera Reynolds) F (XVHI)\nStella Dallas (Belle Bennett) F (XIII)\nStella Maris (Mary Philbin) A (XXVH)\nStepping Lively F (VIH)\nThe Storm Breaker (House Peters) F (XXV)\nThe Street of Forgotten Men (Percy Marmont) A (VII)\nSweet Adeline (Charles Ray) F (XXXH)\nTeeth (Tom Mix) F (IX)\nTessie (May McAvoy) F (XXXH)\nThat Devil Quemado (Fred Thomson) F (VIII)\nThree Faces East (Jetta Goudal) F (XVIII)\nTimber Wolf (Buck Jones) F (IX)\nToo Much Money (Anna Q. Nilsson) F (HO)\nThe Tornado (House Peters) A (XXVII)\nTumble Weeds (Wm. Hart) F (XXIV)\nTwo Shall Be Born (Y) (XXVni)\nUnder the Red Robe F (XIII)\nUp the Ladder (Virginia Valli) A (XXVII)\nWages for Wives (Zazu Pitts) F (IX)\nWatch Your Wife (Virginia Valli) F (XXVH)\nWhat Happened to Jones (Reginald Denny) F (XXVII)\nWhere Was I? (Reginald Denny) F (XXVII)\nThe White Desert (Claire Windsor) F (XHI)\nWild Fire (Aileen Pringle) F (XXVni)\nWinds of Chance (Anna Q. Nilsson) F (III)\nWithout Mercy (Rockcliffe Fellows) F (XVHI)\nA Woman's Faith (Percy Marmont) A (XXVII)\nThe Yankee Senor (Tom Mix) F (IX)\nYolanda (Marion Davies) F Y (XIII)\nFourth Edition\n\nReference List of Well Known Series of Comedies, Novelties, etc. (Given for reference purposes only. In general, we do not recommend comedies unless pre-viewed by the exhibitor or by someone knowing the exact taste and requirements of the community concerned. We urge users, above all, to see the picture before showing to any non-theatrical audience. Serials, westerns, etc. are not listed in this book.)\n\nComedies\nThe Adams' Children (1) The fun three brothers have with their dog, Alice and Krazy Kats (1) Series of 1 reel cartoons. (42)\nAlice Cartoon Comedies (1 each) Photography and cartoon combined. (IV)\nJimmy Aubrey Comedies (2 each) Series. (XXVIII)\nMonte Banks Comedies (2 each) Series. (XX)\nBray Comedies - Many series, usually including much animation work.\nMostly of 1 reel each or less. (22)\nCameo Comedies (1 each) (VI, 42)\nCharlie Chaplin Cartoons (1 each) One release a week. (156)\nCharlie Chaplin Comedies (3 each) Re-releases of four popular favorites:\n\"A Dog's Life,\" \"Sunnyside,\" \"Shoulder Arms\" and \"A Day's Pleasure.\" (XV)\nCharlie Chaplin Comedies (2 each) \"The Bank,\" \"Easy Street,\" \"The Fireman,\" \"The Pawnshop,\" \"The Night in the Show,\" \"Behind the Scenes.\" (XX)\nCharlie Chaplin Re-Releases (2 each) \"The Adventurer,\" \"Behind the Screen,\" \"Easy Street,\" \"The Floorwalker,\" \"The Immigrant,\" \"The Pawnshop.\" (XV)\nChristie Comedies (2 each) Series. (VI, 42)\nFast and Furious (2 each) Series: (4 2)\nFelix the Kat Cartoons (1 each) Max Fleischer series. (XX, 42)\nMr. and Mrs. Sidney Drew in one of their famous comedies (Reprint).\nHair Cartoons (Series of 26, one released every other week) Heads of famous personages drawn on the screen (XIX).\nLloyd Hamilton Comedies (Series of 2) (VI).\nHappy Hooligan Comedies (Series of 1) (156).\nHenry Comedies (Series of 2) (IX).\nHome Life Comedies (Series of 2 each) \"This Wife Business,\" \"Disposing of Mother,\" \"An Old-Fashioned Flapper.\" Sponsored by Federated Women's Clubs. Written by Mrs. Alice Ames Winters (IV).\nEarl Hurd Comedies (Series of 1 each) Animated drawings combined with human actors (VI).\nHustlin' Hank (Series of 2) Will Rogers in aimless, harmless little comedy (XV).\nThe Ice Ticket (Series of 1) Small brother hangs smallpox card over ice ticket.\nImperial Comedies (2 each) Series: (IX) Incognito, (I) Incorrigible Corinne (2)\nJuvenile Comedies (2 each) Series: (VI, 42) Buster Keaton Comedies (2 each) Series: (Ill)\nKo-Ko Song Car-Tunes (13 in series, 1 released every four weeks) Old time melodies, done in cartoon form by Max Fleischer. (XIX)\nKrazy Kats (1 each) Series: (4 2)\nHarold Lloyd Comedies: \"Among Those Present\" (3), \"I Do\" (2), \"Xever Weaken\" (3). (XV)\nThe Married Life of Helen and Warren (2 each) Series: r (IX)\n\"Mermaid Comedies\" (2 each) Series: (VI, 42)\nBull Montana Comedies (2 each) Series: (XIII)\nMutt and Jeff Cartoons (26 in series, 1 reel each) Bud Fisher's best laugh producers. (IV)\nOur Gang Comedies (2 each) Featuring child actors. (XV)\nComedies\nOut of the Inkwell Cartoons (13 in series, 1 reel each, 1 released every four weeks): Max Fleischer's animated cartoons (XIX, XX)\n\nRed Pepper (2): Comedy (42)\nHal Roach Comedies (1 and 2 reel subjects): Series (XV)\nJoe Rock Comedies (2): Series (XX)\nSafe and Sane (2): A comedy (42)\nSea Legs (2): A comedy (42)\nLarry Semon Comedies (2 each): Series (XXVIII)\nMack Sennett Comedies (2 each): Series (XV)\nSid Smith Comedies (2 each): Series (XX)\nThe Sunshine Spreader (2): A comedy (23)\nTuxedo Comedies (2 each): Series (VI)\nUniversal Comedies (1 each): Featuring Neely Edwards, Bert Roach, etc. (XXVII)\nVan Bibber Comedies (2 each): Richard Harding Davis' complete stories (IX)\nWhy Hesitate (2): A comedy (42)\nWill Rogers Comedies (2 each): Philosophy mixed with humor (XV)\n\nNews Reels, Weeklies and Novelty Subjects\nAesop's Fables (2 per issue) Issued weekly. Produced by Fable Pictures, Inc. (XV)\nBray Magazine (1 reel each). Series of 22. (IV, 22)\nBray Nature Pictures (10 in series, 1 each) Series of nature studies.\nBurlingham Travel Films (1 each) Travel reels taken in all parts of the world by Burlingham. (56)\nFilm Facts (13 in series, 1 released every four weeks) Made by Max Fleischer, showing growth of industries, institutions, etc. (XIX)\nFox News (1 each) Issued twice per week. (IX)\nInternational News (1 each) Issued twice a week. (XXVII)\nKinograms (1 each) News Reels issued twice a week. (VI, 42)\nMarvels of Motion (1 in series, 1 released every four weeks) Fleischer Novograph Process, showing normal, slow and suspended action. (XIX)\nMotoy Novelties (12 in series, 2 reels each) Stories acted by dolls. (79)\nPathe News (1 each) Issued twice a week. (XV)\nPathe Review (1 each) Especially fine. Issued once a week. (XV)\nPrizma Color Subjects (1 each) Series of 40. (56)\nRange Rider Series (2 each) Western dramas; clean stories with action, humor, love and fighting. (XV)\nReel view (1 each) A new series of 13 single reels; about 3 subjects of Travel, Costumes of foreign land, and subjects of general interest. (XIX)\nTony Sarg's Almanac (1 reel each) Series of 12. (IV)\nSearchlights (13 in series, 1 reel each) Single reels of scientific experiments and animal studies. (XIX)\nSing Them Again Series (1 each) Reviving old popular songs. (VI)\nStereoscopiks (1 each) Four novelty pictures that have depth (third dimension). Colored glasses supplied to produce the effect. \"A Runaway Taxi,\" \"Ouch,\" \"Luna-cy,\" \"Zowie.\" (XV)\nSwitzerland Series (1 reel each) Series of 10. (56)\nTopics of the Day (15% each): Produced by Timely Films, Inc. (XV)\n- Travelogues (1 reel each): Series of 19. (18)\n- True Detective Stories (2 each): \"On Leave of Absence,\" \"The Girl and the Gangster,\" \"Out of the Storm,\" \"Bucketing the Bucket Shop\" (XV)\n- Wilderness Tales (1): Robert O. Bruce's beautiful scenics. (VI, 42)\n\nFor intelligent, impartial, dependable reviews of current films:\n- theatrical and non-theatrical - see The Educational Screen every month.\n\nThe Educational Screen keeps 1001 up to date by reviews of new films as they appear. Ten issues a year. Keep The Educational Screen on your desk every month.\n\nFourth Edition\n\nADVERTISEMENT\nThe Society for Visual Education was organized in 1919 due to the recognized need for better teaching methods, and the realization that visual education was an essential part of that improvement.\nThe Society for Visual Education produced school films for teaching, requiring additional visual aids. Commercial film companies were unwilling to produce pedagogic motion pictures due to small financial returns in the school field. The Society pioneered this work, spending large sums to create a library of Schoolfilms.\n\nSchoolfilms\nWide Selection \u2014 Low Rental Rates \u2014 Reasonable Sales Prices\nSVE educational motion picture films, one and two reels each, cover the following important subjects:\nAmericanization\nCivics\nNature Study\nPhysics\nPhysical Geography\nRegional Geography\nForeign Geography\nAthletic\nAgriculture\nVocational\nHealth and Sanitation\nEconomic History\nUnited States History\nIndustrial\n\nThe Society is the sole distributor for American Red Cross and Junior Red Cross films on the following subjects:\nHealth and Hygiene.\nSchool Correspondence Trips Through Foreign Lands Red Cross Activities - War Red Cross Activities - Peace Junior Red Cross Activities Send For Catalogs Society for Visual Education, Inc. 327 South LaSalle St. Chicago, IL REFERENCE LIST OF PRODUCERS AND DISTRIBUTORS Part I Producers and Distributors with Exchanges or Branch Offices (Write always to Exchange nearest you) 1 American Motion Picture Corporation 126 W. 46th St., New York, NY 2500 films. An organization devoted to the non-theatrical field only and distributing an unusually high character of film both for entertainment and educational purposes on non-flam stock. Address the list of following exchanges for full information: Oklahoma City, Pittsburgh, 1028 Forbes St. H. 0. Davis, 10 6 S. Hudson St. Omaha, 1508 Davenport St. Boston, 28 Piedmont St. Dayton, 78 7 Reibold Bldg.\nMinneapolis: 501 Loeb Arcade\nBaltimore: 210 2 Marvland Ave.\nChicago: 531 S. Wabash Ave.\nII Associated Exhibitors, Inc. (Primarily theatrical): Distribute through Pathe Exchanges.\nNew York: 383 Fifth Ave.\nWrite to nearest exchange: Albany, Atlanta, Boston, Buffalo, Charlotte, Chicago, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Dallas, Denver, Des Moines, 0 Broadway, 89 Walton St., 52 Church St., S00 W. Third St., 531 S. Wabash Ave., Bdway Film Bldg., 21st & Payne Ave., 308 Harwood St., 2108 Broadway\nDetroit: 159 E. Elizabeth St.\nIndianapolis: 122 W. N. Y. St.\nKansas City: 1712 Wyandotte St.\nLouisville: 221 S. Third St.\nCanada:\nMilwaukee: 208 Eleventh St.\nNew Haven: Boston Office\nNew Orleans: 1401 Tulane Ave.\nOklahoma City: 304 W. Reno St.\nOmaha: 1511 Chicago St.\nPhiladelphia: 12 25 Vine St.\nPittsburgh: 1014 Forbes St.\nPortland: 441 Glisan St.\nSt. Louis: 3319 Locust St.\nSalt Lake City: 50 Exchange PL\nSan Francisco: 14 Leavenworth St.\nSeattle: 2023 Third Ave.\nWashington: 916 G St., N.W.\nVancouver, B.C: 553 Grnvle St.\nWinnipeg, Man.: Film Exch. Bg.\nMexico City, D.F., Mexico: 13 Lopez St.\n284 Turk St., San Francisco, Calif.\nCalgary, Alta.: 300 Traders Bg,\nMontreal, Que.: 12 Mavor St.\nSt. John, N.B.: 39 Walton St.\nToronto, Ont.: 91 Queens St., E.\nIV Co-Operative Film Exchange\n1912 S. Vermont Ave., Los Angeles, Calif.: 1000 films \u2014 Rental only \u2014 Flam \u2014 Serve far West \u2014 Handle films for Prizma and other producers.\nV Cosmopolitan Film Exchange: 2014 Third Ave., Seattle, Wash.: 449 Glisan St., Portland, Ore.\nVI Educational Film Exchanges (Primarily theatrical): 370 Seventh Ave., New York, N.Y.\nSome productions for non-theatrical field. Write to nearest exchange:\n\nAlbany, 659 Broadway\nAtlanta, 97 Walton St.\nBoston, 71 Broadway\nBuffalo, 505 Pearl St.\nCharlotte, 227 N. Graham St.\nChicago, 829 S. Wabash Ave.\nCincinnati, Broadwav Film Bg.\nCleveland, 507 Film Bldg. 210 Eleventh St., 413 Loeb Arcade, 134 Meadow St., 415 Dryades St., 7 29 Seventh Ave.\nDallas,\nDenver,\nDes Moines,\nDetroit,\nIndianapolis,\nKansas City,\nLos Angeles,\nLouisville, 30 2V2 S. Harwood St., 152 5 Tremont St., 603 Film Bldg., 1920 Vermont Ave.\nMilwaukee,\nMinneapolis,\nNew Haven,\nNew Orleans,\nNew York,\nOklahoma City, 114 S. Hudson St.\nOmaha.. 1508 Davenport St.\nPhiladelphia, 1309 Vine St.\nPittsburgh. 1014 Forbes St.\nSalt Lake City, 12 9 E. 2d S. St.\nSt. Louis, 3334 Olive St.\nSan Francisco, 288 Turk St.\nSeattle, 2002 Third Ave.\nWashington, 926 New Jersey Ave., N. W.\nPRODUCERS AND DISTRIBUTORS\u2014 PART I\n\nVI. Educational Film Exchanges (Continued)\n\nCanada\nCalgary, Alta., 40 5 8th Ave., W.\nMontreal, Que., 12 Mayor St.\nSt. John, N.B., 39 Waterloo St,\n\nFamous Players-Lasky Corporation\nWrite to the nearest exchange:\n33 Orange St.\n110 Walton St.\n8 Shawmut St.\n254 Franklin St.\n49 W. Granite St.\n\nChicago, 1327 S. Wabash Ave.\nCincinnati, Pioneer St. & B'way\nCleveland, 15 63 E. 21st St.\nColumbus, 251 N. 5th St.\nDallas, 300 S. Jefferson St.\n1625 Court Place\n924 S. Olive St.\n615 S. First St.\n119 Seventh St,\n\nCanada\nCalgary, Alta., 320 Traders Bg.\nMontreal, Que., 12 Mayor St.\nAlbany,\nAtlanta,\nBoston,\nBuffalo,\nButte,\nCharlotte,\nDenver,\nDetroit,\nDes Moines,\nIndianapolis,\nJacksonville,\nKansas City,\nLos Angeles,\nLouisville,\nMemphis,\nMilwaukee,\nMinneapolis,\nToronto, Ont, 227 Vic. St.\nVancouver, B. C, 553 Granville\nWinnipeg, Man, Can, Film Exchange Bldg. (Primarily theatrical)\n485 Fifth Ave, New York, NY, New Haven, 944 Perdido St, Oklahoma City, 514 W Grand Ave, Omaha, 1610 Davenport St, Peoria, 113 S Monroe St, Philadelphia, 1219 Vine St, Pittsburgh, 1018 Forbes St, Portland ME, 263 St Johns St, Portland OR, 44 4 Glisan St, St. Louis, 3721 Wash. Blvd, Salt Lake City, 133 E 2nd St, San Antonio, 501 Soledad St, S. Francisco, 201 Golden Gate A, Seattle, 2017 Third Ave, Sioux Falls, 318 S Main St, Vashinerton, 1101 N Cap Ave, Wilkes-Barre, 62 N State St, Toronto, Ont, Ill Bond St, Vancouver, B C, 553 Granvile\nVTII Film Booking Offices of America (Primarily theatrical)\n723 Seventh Ave, New York, NY\nAH films on flam stock. Write to the nearest exchange:\n703 Broadway, 106 Walton St, 4 6 Piedmont St.\n\"Atlanta, Boston, Buffalo, Charlotte (Corner W. 3rd. & S. Poplar Sts.), Chicago 908 S. Wabash Ave., Cincinnati Pioneer St. & B'way, Cleveland Film Ex. Bldg., Dallas 2011 Jackson St., Des Moines 915 Grand Ave., Detroit 159 E. Elizabeth St., Indianapolis 428 N. 111. St., Jacksonville 927 W. Forsyth, Kansas City Snowfer Bldg., Memphis 230 Union Ave., Los Angeles 1924 S. Vermont, Milwaukee 14 7-7th St., Minneapolis Film Ex.Bg., 16-4th, New Haven 126 Meadow, New Orleans 419 Dryades, New York 723 7th Ave., Oklahoma City 127 S.Hudson, Omaha 1508 Davenport, Philadelphia 1320 Vine, Pittsburgh 1016 Forbes, Portland Ore. 126 N. 12th St., San Francisco 310 Turk St., St. Louis, Seattle, Salt Lake City, Sioux Falls, Washington 3312 Olive, Toronto Canada 277 Victoria, IX Fox Film Corporation (Primarily theatrical)\"\nFilms suitable for non-theatrical purposes:\n\nAlbany, 46 Orange St. Milwaukee, 721 Wells St.\nAtlanta, 114 Walton St. Minneapolis, 36 Western Ave.\nBoston, 78 Broadway New Haven, 134 Meadow St.\nBuffalo, 496 Pearl St. New Orleans, 1127 Girod St.\nCharlotte, 505 West 4th St. New York, 34 W. 44th St.\nChicago, 910 S. Wabash Ave. Oklahoma City, 121 S. Hudson\n\nProducers and Distributors\u2014 Part I\nIX Fox Film Corporation (Continued)\n\nCincinnati,\nCleveland,\nDallas,\nDenver,\nDetroit,\nIndianapolis,\n2100 Payne Ave.\n306 S. Jefferson St.\n1531 Tremont St.\n66 Sibley St.\n326 N. Illinois St.\nCity, 1901 Wyandotte\n\nLos Angeles, 914 S. Olive St. Memphis, 5iY2 S. Main St.\nCalgary, Alta., 1111 1st St., W.\nMontreal, Que., 12 Mayor St.\nSt. John, N. B., 162 Union St.\nCanada\nOmaha: 1509 Chicago St.\nPhiladelphia: 1238 Vine St.\nPittsburgh: 1014 Forbes St.\nSt. Louis: 3314 Olive St.\nSalt Lake City: 46 Exchange PI.\nSan Francisco: 308 Turk St.\nSeattle: 2008 Third Ave.\nWashington: 932 New J.Av., N.W.\nPortland (Ore.): 329 Alder St.\nSalt Lake City: 200 S. Main St.\nSan Francisco: 116 New Mtgmry\nToronto: 21 Dundas St E, Ont.\nVancouver: 553 Grnvle St, B.C.\nWinnipeg: 365 Hrgrve St, Man.\nX General Electric Co: 1 River Road, Schenectady, N.Y.\nFilms of industrial nature \u2014 excellent quality \u2014 all free. Prints also available.\nDistributing exchanges:\nAtlanta: 123 Spring St.\nPhiladelphia: 1321 Walnut St.\nBoston: 84 State St.\nChicago: 230 S. Clark St.\nCleveland: 925 Euclid Ave.\nDallas: 1801 N. Lamar St.\nXI General Vision Company: 104 W. 4th St., New York City\nSuccessors to National Non-Theatrical Motion Pictures, Inc.\nDistributors of non-theatrical films for entertainment, religious and educational purposes. Pictures supplied from exchanges in various cities: Boston: Wholesome Film Service, 42 Melrose St. New York: Edited Pictures System, 71 W. 23rd St. Washington: Scientific & Cinema Supply Co., 1004 Eye St., N.W. Detroit: Louis F. Fliehman, 13173 Cloverlawn Ave. Chicago: Harold S. Brown, 806 S. Wabash Ave. Casselton, N. Dak: Gibson Studios XII Non-theatrical films handled by: Pilot photoplay Exchange, 1150 S. Michigan Ave., Chicago H.O. Davis, 106 S. Hudson St., Oklahoma City, Okla. Church and School Film Exchange, 317 Polk Bldg., Des Moines, Ia. XIII Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Distributing Corporation (Primarily theatrical), 1540 Broadway, New York, N.Y. Write to the nearest exchange: Albany, 679 Broadway Atlanta, 137 Walton St. Boston, 60 Church St.\nBuffalo, 509 Pearl St.\nCharlotte, 223 W. 4th St.\nChicago, 831 S. Wabash Ave.\nCincinnati, 526 Broadway\nCleveland, E. 21st & Payne Ave.\nDallas, 300 S. Harwood St.\nDenver, 805 21st St.\nDes Moines, 415 W. 8th St.\nDetroit, 159 E. Elizabeth St.\nIndianapolis, 438 N. Illinois St.\nKansas City, 1706 Wyandotte St.\nLos Angeles, 1010 S. Olive St.\nMilwaukee, 102 9th St.\nXIV Moral and Educational Film Co., Inc\nMinneapolis, 74 Western Ave.\nNew Haven, 134 Meadow St.\nNew York, 729 Seventh Ave.\nNew Orleans, 223 S. Liberty St.\nOklahoma City, 412 W. Reno Ave.\nOmaha, 1512 Davenport St.\nPittsburgh, 1014 Forbes St.\nPhiladelphia, 1228 Vine St.\nPortland, 451 Glisan St.\nSeattle, 2018 Third Ave.\nSan Francisco, 215 Golden Gate Ave.\nSt. Louis, 3332 Olive St.\nSalt Lake City, 15 E. 2nd St.\nWashington, D.C., 92 4 New J. St. N.W.\nCanada, Toronto, 1205 Royal Bank St.\n1125 Union Mortgage Bldg., Cleveland, Ohio\nXV Pathe Exchange, Inc. (Continued)\n\nAlbany, Atlanta, Baltimore, Boston, Buffalo, 116 Walton St., 506 E. Baltimore St., 39 Church St., 505 Pearl St., Butte, 116-118 W. Granite St., Charlotte, 221 W. 4th St., Chicago, 418 S. Wabash Ave., Cincinnati, 12 4 E. 7th St., Cleveland, 210 0 Payne Ave., Dallas, 1715 Commerce St., Denver, 2165 Broadway, Des Moines, 1003 V2 High St., Detroit, 159 E. Elizabeth St., Indianapolis, 6 6 W. New York.\nKansas City, 111 W. 17th St.\nLos Angeles, 920 S. Olive St.\nXVI Pictorial Clubs, Inc., 350 Mulberry St., Memphis\nMilwaukee, 102-104 9th St.\nMinneapolis, 7 2 Western Way\nNewark, 1600 Broadway, N.Y.C.\nNew Haven, 134 Meadow St.\nNew Orleans, 221 S. Liberty St.\nNew York City, 160 0 Broadway\nOklahoma City, 508 W. Grand Ave.\nOmaha, 1503 Davenport St.\nPhiladelphia, 122 Vine St.\nPittsburgh, 1018 Forbes St.\nPortland, Ore., 44 2 Glisan St\nSalt Lake City, 64 Exchange Pl\nSan Francisco, 3 21-31 Turk St.\nSeattle, 20 25 Third Ave.\nSt. Louis, 3 313 Olive St.\nWashington, D.C., 916-18G., N.W.\nMadison Ave., New York, N. Y.\n7 29 Seventh Ave.\n1508 Davenport St.\n1025 Forbes St.\n\nOne of the leading firms in the non-theatrical field. Offer carefully selected films; produce as well as distribute. Are extending their services.\nexchanges address: Chicago, 808 S. Wabash Ave. New York, Cincinnati, 20 Pickering Bldg. Omaha, Minneapolis, 319 Loeb Arcade Pittsburgh, 150 films \u2014 rent, sell and \"free\" \u2014 non-flam, National service through university extension divisions and DeVry Corporation, 729 A Boylston St., Boston, Mass. XVII Picture Service Corporation, 217 W. Illinois St., Chicago, 150 films \u2014 rent, sell and \"free\" \u2014 non-flam, National service through university extension divisions and DeVry Corporation, 217 W. Illinois St., Chicago, 150 films \u2014 rent, sell and \"free\" \u2014 non-flam, National service through university extension divisions and DeVry Corporation, 729 A Boylston St., Boston, Mass. XVIII Producers Distributing Corporation (Primarily theatrical), 469 Fifth Ave., New York, N. Y. Albany, Atlanta, Boston, Buffalo, Charlotte, Chicago, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Dallas, Denver, 630 Broadway, 12 7 Walton St., 4 8 Melrose St., 505 Pearl St., 51 W. Broadway, United Film Bldg., 831 S. Wabash Ave., 21st & Pavne Ave., 310 S. Harwood St.\n20 Broadway, Milwaukee, Minneapolis, New Haven, New Orleans, New York, Oklahoma City, 195 Seventh St., \u00a32 Western Ave., 134 Meadow St., 40 9 Dryades St., 7 29 Seventh Ave., Des Moines, 10 0 3 High St., Detroit, 15 9 E. Elizabeth St., Indianapolis, 66 W. New York St., Kansas City, 10 9 W. 15th St., Los Angeles, 196 6 S. Vermont Ave., XIX Red Seal Pictures Corporation, Omaha, 1516 Davenport St., Philadelphia, 1235 Vine St., Pittsburgh, 1016 Forbes St., Portland, Ore., 124 N. 12th St., St. Louis, 330 3 Lindell Blvd., Salt Lake City, 60 E, 4th St. S., San Francisco, 191 Goldengate Ave., Seattle, 30 8 Virginia St., Washington D.C., 916 G St. N.W., Toronto, Can., 1201 Royal Bank St.\n\nNew York, N.Y., 7 29 Seventh Ave.\nNew Haven, 130 Meadow St.\nNew York City, 729 7th Ave.\nPhiladelphia, 1329 Vine St.\nPittsburgh, 1013 Forbes St.\nSan Francisco, 209 Golden Gate Ave.\nLondon, 12 Little Denmark St.\nEducational and cartoon single reels: Flam Rent only Exchanges in: Boston 4 4 Church St. Buffalo 25 7 Franklin St. Chicago 8 31 S. Wabash Ave. Cincinnati Broadway Film Bldg. Cleveland Film Building Detroit Film Exchange Bids: Los Angeles 19 2 3 S. Vermont Ave. XX Standard Film Service Co. 617 Film Bldg. Cleveland, Ohio Many excellent films for educational and entertainment use. Subjects from Bray, Castle, and many other sources, besides theatrical \"feature\" films. Write direct to main office. Exchanges are: Cincinnati, Standard Film Service Co.; Detroit, Standard Film Service Co.; Pittsburgh, Federated Film Exchange Co. XXI Standard Motion Picture Service, Inc. 1906 S. Vermont Ave., Los Angeles, Calif. 177 Golden Gate Ave., San Francisco, Calif. Films designed principally for classroom work.\n\nProducers and Distributors\u2014 Part I \"1000 and One\"\nStandard Pictures Corp., 323 W. Sixth St., Los Angeles, CA\nReleases one complete program (5-reel feature, 2-reel novelty, and 1-reel scenic) every four weeks. Exchanges in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Denver, Omaha, Chicago, Indianapolis, Detroit, Cleveland, New York City, Newark, NJ, Boston, Philadelphia, Washington, Pittsburgh, Louisville, New Orleans, Atlanta, and Dallas.\n\nStark and Edwards, 329 N. Charles St., Baltimore, MD\nMainly producers -- Some \"free\" films -- Rent and sell -- Serve all United States. Exchange -- National Film Co., 229 N. Gay St., Baltimore, MD.\n\nUnited Artists (Primarily theatrical), 729 Seventh Ave., New York, NY\n\nWrite to nearest exchange:\nAtlanta, 106 Walton St.\nMinneapolis, 69 Church St.\nNew Haven,\nBuffalo, 265 Franklin St.\nChicago, 804 S. Wabash Ave.\nOmaha,\nCincinnati, 503 Broadway\nPhiladelphia\nCleveland: 2143 Prospect Ave, Pittsburgh: 308 S. Harwood St, Denver: 2044 Broadway, Detroit: 303 Joseph Mack Bg., 503 Loeb Arcade Bg., 134 Meadow St, 729 Seventh Ave, 1508 Davenport St, 1014 Forbes St, Kansas City: 1706 Baltimore Ave, Los Angeles: 922 S. Olive St, Calgary, Alberta, Canada - Traders Bldg, Montreal: 12 Mayor St, Portland, ME: 614 Fidelity Bg., St. Louis: 3312 Lindell Blvd, Salt Lake City: 58 E 4th St, South, San Francisco: 229 GoldenGate Ave, Seattle: 1913 Third Ave, Washington: 801 Mather Bldg, Toronto, Winnipeg: 6 Dundas St, W, 403 Film Exch. Bg, XXV United Cinema Company: 120 W. 41st St, New York, NY. Films from various sources - rent and sell - flam and non-flam - some \"free\" films. Distribute through various companies: Church Film Company: 1108 Boylston St, Boston, Edited Pictures System, Inc., Graphoscope Service Co.\n71 W. 23rd St., New York\nJ. F. Adams\n459 Washington St., Buffalo\nUnited Projector & Film Corp.\n228 Franklin St., Buffalo\nUnited Projector & Film Corp.\nKeenan Bldg., Pittsburgh\nMichigan Film Library, Inc.\n338 John R. St., Detroit\nPilgrim Photoplay Exchange\n1150 S. Michigan Ave., Chicago\nScientific & Cinema Supply Co.\nHarcol Motion Picture Industries\n610 Baronne St., New Orleans\nEducational Equipment Co.\n1913 Commerce St., Dallas\nHowe-Stevens Service, Inc.\n311 S. Sarah St., St. Louis\nChurch & School Film Exchange\nPolk Bldg., Des Moines\nVisual Education Bureau, Inc.\n177 Golden Gate Ave., S. Francisco\nStandard Motion Picture Service\n917 S. Olive St., Los Angeles\nCommunity Amusement Assn, Inc.\n16 N. 4th St., Minneapolis\nCosmopolitan Film Exchange\n2014 Third Ave., Seattle\nSavini Films\n111 Walton St., Atlanta\n1004 Eye St., N.W., Washington D.C.\nUnited Projector and Film Corporation\n228 Franklin St., Buffalo, NY\nServe territory east of Mississippi\nCan supply fine list of religious and classic subjects on standard (35 mm.) non-flam stock\u2014Some \"free\" films. Also most important source for film subjects on narrow gauge film\u2014Library of excellent quality\u2014Bray or Hepworth subjects. Write direct for catalog and terms.\nBranches are:\nPittsburg 1112 Keenan Bldg.\nAlbany 51 Chapel St.\nUniversal Pictures Corporation\nWrite to nearest\nAlbany, Atlanta, Boston, Buffalo, Butte, Charlotte, Charleston, Chicago, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Dallas, Denver, Des Moines, Detroit.\nIndianapolis: 67 Broadway, 139 Walton St., 37 Piedmont St., 257 Franklin St., 23 S. Montana, 225 Hale St., 831 S. Wabash Ave., Pioneer & 21st St. & Payne, 308 S. Harwood, 10th & High Sts., 159 E. Elizabeth, 608 N. Oregon, 326 N. Illinois, New York: 730 Fifth Ave., Los Angeles, Memphis, Milwaukee, Minneapolis, New Haven, New Orleans, Oklahoma City, Omaha, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Portland, St. Louis, Jacksonville: 1015 W. Bay St., Kansas City: 1710 Wryandotte, Canada: Toronto, Montreal, Calgary, Victoria: 277, Mayor St., 1906 S. Vermont Ave., 22 Union Ave., 717 Wells St., Loeb Arcade Bldg., 126 Meadow St., 1307 Tulane, 1600 Broadway, 1513 Davenport, ISO 8 Vine St., 1018 Forbes, 445 Glisan, Salt Lake City: 56 Exch. PI., San Francisco: 221 Golden Gate, Seattle: 1935 Third Ave., Sioux Falls: 221 S. Main Ave.\nWinnipeg, Manitoba, 502 Film Exchange Building\nCincinnati, 7th & Main\nCleveland, Payne Avenue & E. 21st\nDetroit, John R. & Elizabeth\nIndianapolis, 436 N. Illinois\nKansas City, 1820 Wyandotte\nLos Angeles, 1968 S. Vermont Ave.\nMilwaukee, 719 Wells\nCalgary, Alberta, 330 Traders Building\nMontreal, 12 Mayor\nSt. John, 27 Prince William\nNew York, New York, 1600 Broadway\nMinneapolis, 70 Western Ave.\nNew Orleans, 1123 Girod\nNew Haven, 134 Meadow\nNew Jersey, 2160 Broadway\nNew York City, 1600 Broadway\nOklahoma City, 115 S. Hudson\nOmaha: 1502 Davenport St.\nPhiladelphia: 1222 Vine St.\nPittsburgh: 1018 Forbes St.\nPortland: 401 Davis St.\nSalt Lake City: 62 Exchange PI.\nSan Francisco:\nSeattle: 71 Leavenworth\n1915 Third Av.\nSt. Louis: 3310 Lindell Blvd.\nWashington, D.C: 928 N. J. Av.\nToronto: 21 Wilton Sq.\nVancouver: 81 Film Exch. Bldg.\nWinnipeg: 4 04 Film Exch. Bg.\nXXIX Westinghouse Electric & Manufacturing Co. East Pittsburgh, PA.\nFirst National Bank Bldg., San Francisco, CA.\nMany fine industrial films \u2013 Supply entire United States \u2013 Flam and non-flam \u2013 \"Free\" except for return postage.\nXXX Y.M.C.A., National Board of 120 W. 41st St., New York, NY.\n1111 Center St., Chicago.\n1200 films \u2013 Flam and non-flam (Chicago all non-flam) \u2013 all \"free\" \u2013 Serve entire United States. Applications from institutions other than Y.M.C.A.'s must be counter-signed by local Y.M.C.A. Secretary.\nPRODUCERS AND DISTRIBUTORS\u2014 PART I\n\n1000 and One\n\nState Rights Distributors:\nThese distributors have no regular list of exchanges. They place their films in the hands of various firms for rental, and territories vary greatly for different films. It is always necessary, then, to write to the headquarters address below to learn nearest distributor handling a particular film:\n\nDavid F. Parker, 1913 Commerce St., Dallas\nChurch and School Film Exch., 317 Polk Bldg., Des Moines\nEdited Pictures System, Inc., 71 W. 23rd St., New York City\nScientific and Cinema S'ply Co., 1004 Eye St., N.W., Washington\nEducational Museum, Cleveland, School of Education, Stearns Rd. & E.109th, Cleveland\n1. Chadwick Pictures, 729 Seventh Ave., New York City\n2. East Coast Films (C. C. Burr), 133 W. 44th St., New York City\n3. Preferred Pictures, 250 W. 57th St., New York City\n4. Principal Pictures, Washington & Vermont Avenues, Los Angeles\n5. B. P. Schulberg, 117 W. 45th St., New York City\n6. Truart Pictures, 1540 Broadway, New York City\n7. Arrow Pictures, 220 W. 42nd St., New York City\n8. Banner Productions, 1540 Broadway, New York City\n9. Columbia, 1600 Broadway, New York City\n10. Gotham, 1650 Broadway, New York City\n11. Air Reduction Sales Co., Motion Picture Division, 342 Madison Ave., New York, NY\nDistributor of one film, Oxygen, the Wonder Worker. \"Free.\"\n1. Alexander Film Co., Denver, Colo. - specialize in film novelties for commercial advertising purposes, working towards the educational field.\n2. American Abrasive Metals Co., 50 Church St., New York, N. Y.\n3. American Historical Film Co., Inc., 29 Middlesex St., Boston, Mass. - producers only, do not distribute.\n4. American Rolling Mill Co., Middletown, Ohio - several film subjects, both flam and non-flam, \"free.\"\n5. American Social Hygiene Association, 370 Seventh Ave., New York, N. Y. - 11 films on health, rent and sell, both flam and non-flam.\n6. American Society for Control of Cancer.\n7. American Steel and Wire Co., 208 S. LaSalle St., Chicago, 111 - distribute through J. Alexander Leggett, both flam and non-flam, \"free.\"\n8. Apollo Film Co., 286 Market St., Newark, N. J.\n11 Armour & Co., Advertising Dept., Union Stock Yards, Chicago, IL\n12 Pierre M. Arnaud, 220 W. 42nd St., New York, NY\nPrimarily theatrical. Some productions for community entertainment.\n13 Artclass Pictures Corp., 1540 Broadway, New York, NY\n14 Atlas Educational Film Co., 1111 South Boulevard, Oak Park, IL\nProducers and distributors of industrial and educational films. Full information may be secured from them on their output and distribution.\n15 Atlas Educational Film Co., 821 Market St., San Francisco, CA\nHandle projection equipment only.\n16 Bakelite Corporation, 247 Park Ave., New York, NY\n1 film: The Story of Bakelite. Non-flam \u2014 \"free.\" National distribution.\n18 Better Service Film Co. Inc., 116 S. Salina St., Syracuse, NY.\n200 films \u2014 Rent and sell \u2014 Serve NY State north of Westchester.\nFourth Edition\nProducers and Distributors \u2014 Part II\n19 Block, Samuel A., 152 W. 42nd St., New York, NY.\n20 Bollman, Henry, 19 W. 10th St., New York, NY.\nNo rentals \u2014 Sells only \u2014 Handles prints, negatives and \"rights.\"\nCarries a stock of about 5,000 reels of educational and recreational subjects, all for outright sale.\n21 Bosworth, DeFrenes & Felton, Wilkes-Barre, Pa.\nHandle Eastman film, A Trip through Filmland; Armstrong film, For the Feet of the Nation; Todd film Checkmated; and International Correspondence Schools' The University of the Night.\n22 Bray Productions, Inc., Dept. of Education and Public Service, 729 Seventh Ave., New York, NY.\nThis department has been specially formed to handle non-theatrical rentals - rent and sell - A very large number of subjects. Many Bray prints have been sold and are in circulation by University Extension Departments. To learn the nearest source, write to New York direct. (See advertisement on page 6)\n\n23 H.S. Brown, 806 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago, 111. Represents Urban-Kineto Corporation. Also distributes films of American Motion Picture Corporation and General Vision Co.\n\n24 Bureau of Commercial Economics\nFilms on flam and non-flam, standard width only. Subjects: trade, travel, agriculture, good citizenship, public health - from all parts of the world, with speakers from far places - all free under their own stipulations.\n\n25 Capitol Projector and Film Co. 133 W. Washington St., Chicago, 111.\n26 Carlson Studios 3810 Broadway, Chicago, 111.\nNo films for rent or sale. Produce only, specializing in animated drawings for cartoon, technical, educational and industrial films.\n\nCarnation Milk Products Co., Oconomowoc, Wis.\n1 film, Milk \u2014 non-flam \u2014 \"free.\"\n\nCarter Cinema Producing Corporation\nc/o Evans Film Laboratory, 1476 Broadway, New York, N.Y.\nServe entire country. Rent and sell.\n\nCarter's Ink Co., Cambridge 41, Boston, Mass.\n\nCastle Films, 268 Market St., San Francisco, Calif.\nProducers and distributors. Films in many different hands; write direct to learn nearest source.\n\nCaterpillar Tractor Co., San Leandro, Calif.\n6 industrial subjects. Most prints on 16 mm. stock.\n\nC.B.C. Film Sales Corporation, 1600 Broadway, New York, N.Y.\nPrimarily theatrical.\n\nCentral Film Co., 729 Seventh Ave., New York, N.Y.\nRental only \u2014 serve all U.S.\nChadwick Pictures, 729 Seventh Ave., New York, NY\nChapel Cinema Arts, 1820 Wyandotte St., Kansas City, MO\nChicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad, Advertising Dept., Chicago, IL\nChurch and School Film Exchange, 317 Polk Bldg., Des Moines, IA. 200 films - Rent and sell - Flam and non-flam - Some \"free\" films.\nCommunity Motion Picture Service, Inc.\nConverse & Co., 88 Worth St., New York, NY\nCowan Truck Co., Holyoke, MA\nCranfield & Clarke, Inc., 729 Seventh Ave., New York, NY\nDavis, H. 0. 106 S. Hudson St., Oklahoma City, OK\n300 films - Serve Okla., part of Ark., Kan., Tex., and N. Mex. Rent and sell - Few \"free\" films - Can supply films from many sources, including Educational Film Corp., Pathe, Fox, Associated First National, Paramount, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Producers Dis-\nThe text appears to be a list of producers and distributors of films in the United States, with their contact information and a brief description of their offerings. I have removed unnecessary line breaks, whitespaces, and other meaningless characters, and corrected some minor OCR errors. Here is the cleaned text:\n\nThe following is a list of producers and distributors of films in the United States, along with their contact information and a brief description of their offerings:\n\n43 Raymond L. Ditmars, c/o N.Y. Zoological Society, Borough of Bronx, New York, N.Y. Producer of many splendid films, including the series \"Living Natural History.\" No rentals.\n\n44 Dixon Crucible Co., Jersey City, N.J. One film \u2014 \"free\" \u2014 flam. Serves all U.S.\n\n40 DuPont de Nemours & Co., E. I., Inc., Wilmington, Dela. Some excellent industrial subjects.\n\n4 East Coast Films, 133 W. 44th St., New York, N.Y. Four films, including \"A Movie Trip Through Filmland,\" distributed by Bosworth, DeFrenes & Felton. (See advertisement on Back Cover)\n\n49 Edited Pictures System, Inc., 71 W. 23rd St., New York, N.Y. 2000 films. Rent and sell graded films for classroom instruction.\n50 All subjects - Serve New England and Middle Atlantic States - Flam and non-flam - Handle output for over 75 other concerns. (See advertisement on page 43)\n50 50 Educational Equipment Co. 1913 A Commerce St., Dallas, Tex. Serve non-theatrical field exclusively.\n51 Carlyle Ellis 71 W. 23rd St, New York, N. Y. 50 subjects - Sale only - Specializes in health films.\n52 Empire Laboratories 7 23 Seventh Ave., New York, N. Y.\n53 Endicott Johnson Corporation Endicott, N. Y.\n54 Exclusive Film Service 732 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago, 111.\n55 Filmack Co. 730 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago, 111. Motion Picture titles and advertising film.\n56 Film Classic Exchange Fredonia, N. Y. Educational, religious and entertainment films - Rental all eastern states - Some prints available for outright sale.\n57 Fitzpatrick Pictures, Inc. 7 29 Seventh Ave., New York, N. Y.\nFord Motion Picture Laboratories, Detroit, Mich.\nSubjects of the Ford Educational Library for classroom use, for sale on film or non-film stock. Issues of Ford Educational Weekly (19.20 and 1921 series) also for sale. Producers also offer number of film subjects free except for transportation charges available through branch and dealer organizations. Apply for latter films direct to nearest branch or dealer.\n\nGoodyear Tire and Rubber Co., Akron, Ohio\nGraphoscope Service Co., 71 W. 23rd St., New York, N. Y.\nGreat Northern Railway, Advertising Dept, St. Paul, Minn.\nGriggs, Cooper & Co., St. Paul, Minn.\nHarcol Motion Picture Industries, 610 Baronne St., New Orleans, La.\n255 films - Rent and sell - Some \"free\" films - Flam and non-flam - Sell in U.S. - Rent in eleven southern states through New Orleans.\nHecker-Jones-Jewell Milling Co., 40 Coitters St., New York, NY - 2 films, non-flammable, free, distribute only in New York state and vicinity.\n\nHeinz H. J. Co., Pittsburgh, PA - 2 films, non-flammable.\n\nHercules Powder Co., Wilmington, DE - 2 films, non-flammable.\n\nHolmes, Burton Laboratories, 7510 N. Ashland Ave., Chicago, IL - Distributors of Burton Holmes Travel subjects. Rent and sell standard and reduction prints.\n\nHoly Land Film Co., 906 Schmidt Bldg., Cincinnati, OH - Producers of the series A Pilgrimage to Palestine, distributed by Pathe.\n\nHomestead Films, 732 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago, IL - Complete library of educational and entertainment subjects.\n\nUniversity of Indiana, Bureau of Visual Instruction, Extension Division, Bloomington, IN.\nInternational Church Film Co., 787 Reibold Bldg., Dayton, Ohio\nInternational Harvester Corporation, 606 S. Michigan Ave., Chicago, IL\nHandle a number of excellent industrial and educational subjects. Distribute throughout the U.S.\nIowa State College, Agricultural Extension Dept., Ames, IA\nJensen, Albrecht, Box 73, General PO, New York, NY\n1 film, Massage and Exercise Combined: a course of daily exercise and self-treatment. Rental in New York City \u2014 Prints sold.\nKeystone Film Co., 1125 Union Mortgage Bldg., Cleveland, OH\nOver 100 films\u2014 sells rights \u2014 No rentals. Serves U.S. and Canada \u2014 Importers of many foreign films.\nFourth Edition\nProducers and Distributors\u2014 Part II\nA great number of educational films distributed by many State University Extension Divisions. Write direct to learn nearest center.\n78 The Lamson Co. Inc, Syracuse, NY\n1 film - Non-flam - \"Free\"\n79 Lea Bel Co., 74 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago, IL\nServes non-theatrical field with large library. Ships to all US. Rent and sell - Flam and non-flam.\n80 League of Nations Non-Partisan Association, Inc.\n81 Lee-Bradford Corporation, 701 Seventh Ave., New York, NY\nDistributors to State Right Exchanges.\n82 Lee Lash Studios, Mount Vernon, NY\nScene painters and drapers. Picture screens and settings.\n83 J. Alexander Leggett Co., 247 Park Ave., New York, NY\nServes entire country. All films \"free.\" Non-flam largely. Industrial and educational subjects.\n84 Liberty Mutual Insurance Co, Park Square Bldg., Boston, MA\n2 films on industrial safety. Rent or sell - Serve all US - Flam or non-flam.\n85 Long Bell Lumber Co, Kansas City, MO\nLutheran Film Division, Inc., 69 Fifth Ave., New York, NY.\n1 film: Martin Luther, His Life and Times.\nMethodist Episcopal Church, Board of Education, 150 Fifth Ave., New York, NY.\n6 films of Methodist educational enterprises. Supplied \"free.\" Serve entire U.S.\nMetropolitan Life Insurance Co., 1 Madison Ave., New York, NY.\n2 health films \u2014 \"Free\" \u2014 Non-flam.\nMeyers Photoplay Service, 804 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago, IL.\nMichigan Film Library, 338 John R St., Detroit, MI.\nEducational, recreational, religious and industrial subjects. Rental.\nMinnesota Public Health Association, 11 W. Summit Ave., St. Paul, MN.\nUniversity of Minnesota, Farm School, St. Paul, MN.\nMission Film Corporation, 6411 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood, CA.\nProducers of wholesome feature pictures. Five completed.\nC.B.C. Film Corp. and Chadwick Pictures\nModern Woodmen of America, Rock Island, IL\nA number of films on the general subject of Fraternal Insurance\nMonogram Pictures, 512 Fifth Ave., New York, NY\nDr. Thomas B. McCrum, 105 Hunter Ave., Kansas City, MO. Sells prints, no rentals, serves all US and abroad. Flam and non-flam, distributes only own productions on dental education\nMcCurdy Films, 5 6th and Woodland Ave., Philadelphia, PA. Producers and distributors of industrial and educational films\nNational Automatic Sprinkler Association, 80 Maiden Lane, New York, NY. 7 films, \"free\" to educational institutions\nNational Cash Register Co., Dayton, OH.\nNational Automatic Sprinkler Association, New York, NY\nNational Cash Register Co., Dayton, OH. 7 films, \"free\" to educational institutions\nNational Exploitation Co., 1125 Union Mortgage Bldg., Cleveland, OH.\nNational Health Council, 3 70 Seventh Ave., New York, NY.\nPublishes a list of health films which may be secured upon application.\n\n102 National Motion Picture Bureau Elm and Forest Sts., Medford, Mass.\n103 National Motion Pictures Co. Indianapolis, Ind.\n200 films \u2014 Rent or sell \u2014 Serve all U.S. \u2014 Flam and non-flam \u2014 Producers also. Specialize in films on public health and safety.\n104 National Safety Council 108 E. Ohio St., Chicago, 111.\n105 National Tuberculosis Association 370 Seventh Ave., New York, N.Y.\n6 films on Health subjects \u2014 Sell from National headquarters \u2014 Rent or lend free from state institutions. Write direct to nearest State Tuberculosis Association.\n106 New York Central Lines Agricultural Relations Dept. LaSalle St. Station, Chicago, 111.\n3 films on railroad operation and the handling of freight and perishable products. All \"free\" \u2014 Non-flam.\n\nProducers and Distributors\u2014 Part II \"1000 and One\"\nThe text appears to be a list of advertisements for various film services. I have removed the introductions and publication information, as well as the line breaks and unnecessary whitespaces. I have also corrected some minor OCR errors.\n\n110 Northern States Power Co., Minneapolis, Minn.\n111 Northwestern Fuel Co., St. Paul, Minn.\n111 Parkes-Cramer Co., Fitchburgh, Mass.\n(See advertisement on page 91)\n112 Pilgrim Photoplay Exchange, 1150 S. Michigan Ave., Chicago, IL\nLarge assortment of films for non-theatrical field. Write direct for lists. 1000 subjects \u2014 Rent only \u2014 Flam and non-flam \u2014 Few \"free\" films \u2014 Serves all U.S., but especially Middle West and South.\n113 Pinkney Film Service Co., 1028 Forbes St., Pittsburgh, Pa.\nRepresents American Motion Picture Co., Pictorial Clubs, Urban-Kineto Corp. Distribute to Western Pennsylvania, W. Va. and Eastern Ohio. Devoted solely to non-theatrical distribution.\n(See advertisement on page 89)\n114 Playground Athletic League, Inc, 7 E. Mulberry St., Baltimore, Md.\n115 Plymouth Film Corporation, 46 W. 24th St., New York, N. Y.\nReligious subjects \u2013 Flam and non-flam. Rent and sell for foreign territories. Distributed through a number of other companies and State University centers.\n116 Preferred Pictures, 250 W. 57th St., New York, N. Y.\n117 Principal Pictures, Washington and Vermont Avenues, Los Angeles, Calif.\n118 Prizma, Inc, S191-3197 Boulevard, Jersey City, N. J.\nProducers of natural color subjects. Distributed through many other organizations. Write direct to learn nearest source.\n119 Protestant Motion Picture Corp, 36 W. 48th St., New York, N. Y.\nDistributors of The Life of Christ. For western distribution, refer to The Educational Screen.\n120 Prudence Co, 331 Madison Ave., New York, N. Y.\n2 films. Distributed also by Worcester Film Corp. and Neighbor-\n[121] 121 Ray-Bell Films, Inc. 817-823 University Ave., St. Paul, Minn.\nProducers of industrial, community and animated motion pictures.\n\n[122] 122 Reel-Colors, Inc. 220 W. 42nd St., New York, N. Y.\n\n[123] 123 Riley Stoker Corporation Worcester, Mass.\n\n[124] 124 Religious Motion Picture Foundation\n287 Fourth Ave., New York, N. Y.\n\n[125] 125 Romell Motion Picture Co. 906 Schmidt Bldg., Cincinnati, Ohio\nProducers and distributors of industrial and educational subjects. (See advertisement on Inside Back Cover)\n\n[126] 126 Rotary Carton Machine Co. Minneapolis, Minn.\n\n[127] 127 Rothacker Industrial Films, Inc. 1339 Diversey Parkway, Chicago, Ill.\nProducers and distributors of industrial and educational subjects.\nSt. Paul, Department of Safety, Minn: 128\n51 Annapolis Ave., Battle Creek, Mich: Service Film Producers\nChurches and schools: educational programs presented\nSt. Paul, Minn: J. L. Shieley, Sand and Gravel Co.\n729 Seventh Ave., New York, N. Y: Short Films Syndicate, Inc.\nNiagara Falls, N. Y: Shredded Wheat Co.\nChicago, 111: Society for Visual Education, 327 S. LaSalle St.\nLeading firm in non-theatrical and educational field\nProduce and distribute own productions on non-flam stock\nAmerican Red Cross and Junior Red Cross films\nState Universities: films deposited\nWrite direct to Society\n(See advertisements on pages 94, 115)\nCarmel, Calif: George E. Stone\nProducer: How Life Begins, scientific subjects.\nStudebaker Corporation, South Bend, Ind.\n112-118 W. 44th St., New York, N. Y. Sunshine Film, Inc. - Distributors of William Tell\n159 N. State St., Chicago, Ill. Super Photoplay Service\n1562 Broadway, New York, N. Y. Timely Films, Inc.\nFourth Edition\nPRODUCERS AND DISTRIBUTORS-- PART II\nTown Talk Bakery, Worcester, Mass.\n1 film - non-flam. For local distribution only.\n1540 Broadway, New York, N. Y. Truart Pictures\n207 E. Ohio St., Chicago, Ill. Underwriters' Laboratories\n2 films - \"free.\"\nPittsburgh, Pa. United States Bureau of Mines, Experiment Station\n45 film subjects - all \"free\" to those who agree to comply carefully with all conditions.\nFlam and non-flam.\nWashington, D. C. United States Bureau of Reclamation\nFormer subjects being re-titled and re-edited. Work to be extended soon.\nFlam - \"free.\"\nUnited States Department of Agriculture, Washington, D.C.\n220 subjects: livestock raising, field crops, animal and plant diseases, dairying, insect control, farm engineering, marketing, rural organization, forestry, highway construction, wild life conservation. New subjects produced regularly. Old subjects: inflammable; new subjects: non-flam. Prints sold to cooperating institutions. Rentals free, except for transportation. Many prints available through State institutions, particularly agricultural colleges. Write to Office of Motion Pictures, U.S. Department of Agriculture, Washington, D.C. for complete information.\n\nUnited States Department of Labor, Children's Bureau, Washington, D.C.\n3 films: available through many State Departments of Health. Sell through their laboratories when desired. Flam.\n146 United States Department of Labor, Women's Bureau, Washington, D.C.\nTwo films \u2014 Non-flam \u2014 \"Free.\" Also available through some State Universities.\n147 United States Navy Recruiting Bureaus\n148 United States Steel Corporation, Bureau of Safety, Sanitation and Welfare, 71 Broadway, New York, N.Y.\nS Sixty films \u2014 \"Free\" for educational purposes with no admission fee charged.\n149 University Extension Divisions\nConsult nearest center, usually at State University.\n150 University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa.\n151 Urban-Kineto Corporation, Irvington-on-Hudson, N.Y.\nProducers and distributors of the largest educational film library in the world, Sales and rentals. Establishing exchanges throughout the country. Write direct.\n152 Visual Education Equipment Co., 415 Fourth St., Sioux City, IA.\n153 Visugraphic Pictures 247 Park Ave., New York, NY\nRent, sell and \"free.\" Flam and non-flam. Industrial and health subjects.\n154 Western Electric Co., Motion Picture Bureau\nProducers of many fine industrial films. (See advertisement on page 49)\nWholesome Films Service, Inc. 42 Melrose St., Boston, MA\nServe Northeastern States. Flam and non-flam. 100 subjects of industrial, health, religious and entertainment subjects. Also New England distributors for General Vision Co.\n156 World Educational Film Co. 732 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago, IL\n250 subjects \u2014 Flam and non-flam \u2014 Rent and sell \u2014 Serve Middle West.\n157 World Educational Film Co. California Studios, Hollywood, CA\nProduce one-reel educational subjects. Sell only. Flam. Distribute through Peerless Film Service, San Francisco and Los Angeles.\n158 World Missionary Drama League, 818 Judson Ave., Evanston, 111. Two rental films specializing in church use.\n159 Yale University Press Film Service, 522 Fifth Ave., New York, N. Y. Distributors of The Chronicles of America, produced by Yale University Press. Make arrangements directly with above office. Pathe Exchange, physical distributors.\n160 Youth's Companion, 8 Arlington St., Boston, Mass. One film, From Forest to Fireside. Non-flam - \"free.\"\n\nAdvertisement:\nUse Motion Pictures-\nThere is a particular type of Simplex Projector to meet your requirements.\nSend for catalog L and get full description, prices, and terms.\nMotion Pictures have a real practical value in school work.\nThey add interest and effectiveness to instruction and are always a convenient and reliable source of entertainment.\nIt is important that a good projector is used.\nThe Projector should be used. Poorly presented pictures have no attraction.\n\nThe Simplex Projector is your best investment because it assures perfect projection, is simple to operate, and can be purchased on easy terms. Particulars sent on request.\n\nSimplex Division International Projector Corporation\n90 Gold Street, New York, NY\nFourth Edition\n\nAdvertisement\n\nRothacker Industrial Films, Inc. is organized to better serve present and prospective users of Motion Pictures. Rothacker Industrial Films, Inc. has the same management and personnel that rendered efficient service through the Rothacker Film Mfg. Co. Rothacker Industrial Films, Inc. specializes in planning, producing and merchandising Educational-Industrial Motion Pictures and is properly equipped to maintain the high standard of Rothacker Quality and Rothacker Service.\n\nRothacker Industrial Films, Inc.\nDouglas D. Rothacker, President\nNew York Office, General Offices and Studio\n542 Fifth Avenue, 1339-1351 Diversey Parkway\nNew York City, Chicago, Illinois.\nWrite for list of interesting educational subjects available free of charge.\n\nYou're sure of safety\nEastman Safety Film finishes the feeling of security your caution demands when the projector is unenclosed, the operator inexperienced.\n\nGlance in the film margin for the identifying words \"Eastman*\" \"Kodak\" \"Safety\" \"Film\" and you're sure of safety \u2014 no booth needed, no unusual precautions needed.\n\nLook for the identification\nEASTMAN KODAK COMPANY\nROCHESTER, N. Y.\nLIBRARY OF CONGRESS", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"},
{"language": "eng", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "sponsor": "The Library of Congress", "contributor": "The Library of Congress", "date": "1926", "title": "The Andover way", "creator": "Fuess, Claude Moore, 1885-1963", "lccn": "26011251", "collection": ["library_of_congress", "fedlink", "americana"], "shiptracking": "ST010662", "call_number": "2162451", "identifier_bib": "00020655422", "possible-copyright-status": "The Library of Congress is unaware of any copyright restrictions for this item.", "note": "If you have a question or comment about this digitized item from the collections of the Library of Congress, please use the Library of Congress \u201cAsk a Librarian\u201d form: <a href=\"https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html\">https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html</a>", "publisher": "Boston, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard co", "description": "335 p. 20 cm", "mediatype": "texts", "repub_state": "19", "page-progression": "lr", "publicdate": "2019-02-21 13:01:12", "updatedate": "2019-02-21 13:58:49", "updater": "associate-mike-saelee@archive.org", "identifier": "andoverway00fues_0", "uploader": "associate-mike-saelee@archive.org", "addeddate": "2019-02-21 13:58:51", "operator": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "tts_version": "1.64-initial-41-g686d335", "camera": "Sony Alpha-A6300 (Control)", "scanner": "scribe2.capitolhill.archive.org", "imagecount": "352", "scandate": "20190319155135", "ppi": "300", "republisher_operator": "associate-evangilyn-dayday@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20190321174400", "republisher_time": "473", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/andoverway00fues_0", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t7bs6bk94", "scanfee": "300;10.7;214", "invoice": "36", "openlibrary_edition": "OL6690285M", "openlibrary_work": "OL6916659W", "curation": "[curator]associate-manuel-dennis@archive.org[/curator][date]20190508171850[/date][state]approved[/state][comment]invoice201904[/comment]", "sponsordate": "20190430", "additional-copyright-note": "No known restrictions; no copyright renewal found.", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:1156153043", "backup_location": "ia906808_0", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "99", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1926, "content": "[The Andover Way by Claude Moore Fess, 1926, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. All rights reserved. Printed in U.S.A.\n\nDedicated to my son John Cushing Fess, my severest and most helpful critic\n\nContents\n\nChapter I. The Hero Appears\nChapter II. The Hero's Ignorance\nChapter III. The Hero Makes a Friend\nChapter IV. The Hero Discovers His Muscles\nChapter V. The Hero Learns by Experience\nChapter VI. The Hero's Trials\nChapter VII. The Hero Becomes a Good Samaritan\nChapter VIII. The Hero Wins His Spurs\nChapter IX. The Hero Widens His Horizon]\nIt was a gloriously warm and hazy morning in mid-September on Andover Hill. Four healthy young men were stretched out lazily on the grass in front of the new George Washington Hall, expressing disdain for mental and physical exertion. Everywhere around them, frenzied people were hurrying.\n\nChapter I\nThe Hero Appears\n\nThe Hero is Suspected:\nThe hero is tried by fire.\nThe hero reaches his goal.\nThe hero amazes his mother.\nThe hero closes the year.\nThe hero says his farewells.\n\nIllustrations\n- The tape is broken a foot in front of his gallant Exeter rival (Page 270)\n- Frontispiece\n- A new student (Page 16)\n- Staggering and exhausted, Oscar lets Bull take up his inert burden.\n- Mrs. Harris stops patting her dress and turns to look at her\n\nChapter I\nThe Hero Appears\n\nIt was a gloriously warm and hazy morning in mid-September on Andover Hill. Four healthy young men were stretched out lazily on the grass in front of the new George Washington Hall, expressing disdain for all forms of mental and physical exertion. Everywhere around them, frenzied people were hurrying.\nThey to and fro, shouting vague questions and consulting mysterious documents. Not far away, on the massive granite portico of the great Main Building, were little clusters of bewildered youngsters, evidently hoping that someone would soon come to tell them what to do. Now and then, a huge truck would rumble up to Phillips or Bartlet Halls and disgorge a load of miscellaneous baggage. These four idlers were the only ones in the immediate vicinity who looked completely at peace with the world.\n\nThey were close friends, slowly getting reacquainted after the three months of summer vacation \u2014 friends so intimate that they were often known as the \u201cFour Musketeers,\u201d Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan. Very different in character and personality, they had certain fundamental ideas.\nA muscular, square-jawed chap with curly auburn hair, piercing blue eyes, and a look of independence on his handsome face was part of the group. Among them were representatives of nearly all the important phases of Andover school life. Suddenly, the chimes in the imposing Memorial Tower struck eleven. The speaker rose on his elbow to listen attentively.\n\n\"Say, those bells do sound good to me,\" he exclaimed when the last echo had died away. \"In Day Hall last year, I used to hate them, especially when 'Doc' Schleiermacher woke us up by playing them early on holidays. But this summer out in Montana, where there wasn't any noise at all, I felt mighty lonely without them. The 'Doc' can rattle away as much as he likes for all of me.\"\nTHE HERO APPEARS\nA positive indication that he had been through it all before. As a matter of fact, he was a senior, \"Steve\" Fisher by name, who, as halfback on the eleven and captain of the baseball team, was a personage in the academy. But the honors which he had won did not seem to fill his companions with awe.\n\n\"That's all piffle, you know!\" burst out a tall, dark-complexioned fellow, with a haughty manner and a somewhat cynical expression hovering over his lips. \"You talk like a sweet young thing! After you've been back a week or two you'll be cursing at those clanging bells like all the rest of us.\" It was \"Hal\" Manning, editor of the school paper, a highly sophisticated gentleman, who liked to boast that he had tasted life and found it ashes. He resembled the Athos of Dumas\u2019s romance, and had even been known to quote from it.\n\"wear a carnation in his buttonhole.\n\"Oh, dry up, Hal!\" growled a burly boy with a neck like a Roman gladiator and yellow pompadour hair. \"You make me tired! Just because you dwell in Boston's Back Bay and your Pilgrim ancestors stole Cape Cod from a tribe of helpless Indians, you consider yourself privileged to laugh at all sentiment. You really love Andover as much as any of us.\" These remarks came from \"Joe\" Watson, a genial giant who was captain of the track team and universally popular because of his skill as a shot-putter, his football prowess, and his good nature. He was the Porthos of the group.\n\"Yes,\" added Steve, \"this place has done nothing but teach Hal to conceal his unselfish impulses behind a sinister sneer. He has developed into a model movie villain, who ought to\"\n\"What has Andover done for you, Steve?\" the last member of the quartet asked sarcastically. A thin youth with a discontented countenance and a fondness for the spectacular, whose love for it was evident in his bright blazer and loud flannel knickerbockers, was Ted Sherman, manager of the football team and an active and shrewd politician.\n\n\"What do you want me to answer?\" Steve replied, undisturbed by the implication. \"It has given me a little sense, I hope. It has made me understand that I don't know everything. That's what it does for nearly everybody.\"\n\n\"Right,\" Joe interjected, coming to Steve's defense.\n\"It takes the conceit out of us. And it still has a lot to do in some cases I know.\" He glanced significantly in Hal's direction.\n\n\"At last I feel at home again,\" commented Hal. \"I've been waiting for that courteous retort. It's the same gang we had last year. Rave on, will you, and get it out of your systems. I'm willing to admit, if it will do any good, that I'm glad to be back, even if I do have to associate with low company once more.\"\n\nThe repartee was about to become more spirited, but just then Ted, rising to a sitting posture, interrupted by crying out, \"What's this coming? It's a 4 knock-out, by George! You say that Andover improves men! What do you suppose even this school can do to develop stuff like that?\"\n\nFollowing the line of Ted's extended finger, his companions saw what were evidently a mother and child passing by the window.\nA young man and his son, the latter obviously a new student. He was fully six feet in height and had a big frame, but he had a pronounced stoop forward and was very thin, so that he seemed about to float off in the light south breeze. His broad forehead bulged out over his eyes, which were hidden behind tortoiseshell spectacles of unusually large circumference. On his head was a wide-brimmed white fedora hat, of a type never worn in Andover except by octogenarians, and his crimson cravat flamed in the sunlight. Little patches of hair, growing down his cheeks in the shape of sideburns, gave him an oddly foreign look. His tweed suit, which was tight and closely-fitted in the European style, allowed his bony wrists to project into space.\nThe boys sat up straighter to get a better view of the unexpected apparition. \"What do you call it?\" asked Joe in amazement, his eyes traveling over the strange figure. \"Name it yourself,\" answered Hal. \"It looks for all the world as if the keeper of the zoo had been careless.\" \"No, you're wrong,\" said Joe, who had a literal mind. \"It's really a prep, and he is bringing his mother to see that he gets started right. See how he's banging on her arm.\" A new student.--Page 15.\n\n\"If that is a sure-enough prep, we're going to have a strong candidate for Joe's place in the line,\" Hal mused. \"Gaze upon those legs! Wouldn't he shine in a scrimmage?\" \"Yes,\" agreed Ted.\n\"I think this school will turn that raw material into a finished product worth having, don't you?\", asked one.\n\n\"I'm not so sure.\", replied Steve. \"You never know what wonderful possibilities may be hidden even under that queer exterior. Lincoln was no Apollo when he was a boy. I'd just like to have a glimpse of this fellow next spring.\"\n\n\"I'll tell you what I'll do as a sporting proposition.\", responded Ted, who enjoyed causing a sensation as a reckless daredevil. \"I'll bet you twenty-five dollars that he doesn't last here until Christmas.\"\n\n\"You know that, even if I wanted to, I can't afford to put up any money with you.\", answered Steve coolly, with the air of a man stating a commonplace. \"Nevertheless, I think he may have a chance. Let's keep our eyes on him. It will be funny if you have to eat your words.\"\nBy this time, the strangers had reached the four friends. As Joe stood up to go to his dormitory, the woman, who was mourning, looked at him appealingly and then came nearer.\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" she began, \"but I am having difficulty in finding the place where new students are enrolled. Can you help me?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am,\" answered Joe, although embarrassed, \"right here is where Mr. Lynton has his office, and I'm positive he's there now. Let me direct you. He'll provide you with the necessary information.\" Holding the door open for her to enter, Joe ushered her and her son into the vestibule.\nGeorge Washington Hall, the beautiful structure on the north side of the quadrangle. Here, the auditorium and administrative offices were located. As they disappeared within, Ted, who had been scrutinizing the prospective Andoverian, complained in a disgusted tone, \"Honestly, these new men get worse every fall. It looks to me as if this institution were going down-hill. Things aren't what they used to be!\"\n\n\"The trouble is,\" ventured Joe, \"that you keep thinking about that wonderful September two years back when the quartet of us entered. Andover will never have another 'prep' class like that, \u2014 never!\"\n\n\"That's the idea, Joe. Show off your marvelous gift of irony!\" responded Ted. \"But what I want to know is whether you ever saw on this Hill a less promising specimen than that?\"\n\"No, I don't believe I ever did,\" admitted Joe, thoughtfully and candidly. \"I wonder what will become of him?\"\n\n\"Oh, some impatient \u2018prof' will hit him with an axe on a dark night and throw the remains into Rabbit's Pond,\" said Hal emphatically. \"That is, if he lingers longer than a week.\"\n\n\"You two are pessimists, all right,\" interposed Steve. \"That fellow is no dumbbell. His clothes are wrong and all that, but he looks intelligent. Wait until his greenness wears off! Besides, I still have confidence in what this school can accomplish. This place will improve him \u2014 it\u2019s the Andover way. See what it has made out of twenty...\"\n\nJust then Joe appeared, wiping his brow and chuckling audibly. \"Gee!\" he broke out as he saw Steve. \"That's a prize-winner! He is certainly going to have a rare reception when he gets back.\"\n\"Guess what his name is? \"Algernon! \"\"Charlemagne! \"\"Reuben! \"No, you're all wrong,\" roared Joe. \"It's Alfred Tennyson Harris! \"Carry me home to die! \"That's terrible! \"How did you learn that? \"I had to introduce the two of them to Mr. Lynton. The boy is going to be a senior. I heard his mother say that he had all but two points off for college, and she's sending him here just for a final polishing off before he goes to Yale. \"He'll be polished off nicely here, I'm sure,\" said Ted.\n\nAt that moment, Hal interrupted with a low, \"Look out, my hearties, here he is now! \"\n\nSure enough, there was the newcomer, his hat held in his hand and his long, silky hair hanging down over his eyes, blinking and staring at Joe.\n\nTHE HERO APPEARS\n\n\"I crave your indulgence again, sir,\" he began\"\n\"But can you tell me where Wendell Hall is located? I not only can, but will reply Joe, pointing in the right direction. I have just been assigned an apartment there and assume I ought to move in at once. Will it be possible for me to obtain a servant to assist me with my trunks? My word! Fancy! Hal couldn't endure the strain any longer. And I suppose you are expecting the butler and second man to be in the door to welcome you, old thing! The recruit looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled tolerantly and answered, Thanks awfully! But of\"\nI realize you're spoofing me, you know.\n\"I'm glad that you get it,\" commented Hal.\n\"That scores one point for you.\"\nSteve, who had been listening to this interaction with undisguised delight, now decided to have a hand in the game.\n\"What's your name, prep?\" he inquired in a stern voice.\nThe anemic-looking lad drew from his vest pocket an alligator-skin case, extracted from it a thin piece of pasteboard, and handed it deferentially to Steve. Steve examined it closely and read aloud, \"Alfred Tennyson Harris.\" As if by a preconcerted signal, the other three all shouted in unison, \"Alfred Tennyson Harris,\" stressing each syllable and ending with a pronounced hiss. Then Steve, turning upon the astonished boy with a frown, growled, \"Prep, are you making fun of me?\"\n\"Oh, no, not at all. That's my name, the one I introduced myself with.\"\nI was christened with the name, but my friends call me 'Tenny.' I was named for Alfred Tennyson, the great English bard. \"Indeed! And who is Alfred Tennyson?\" inquired Hal, with an innocent look in his eye. \"Is he dead?\" \"Of course he is dead,\" answered Tenny, with a hint of condescension in his tone. \"Are you not acquainted with his poems? He is one of the most eminent of modern British authors. May I recite to you one of his lyrics?\" \"Shall we allow this thing to live for a day or two, or shall we annihilate it now?\" whispered Hal to Ted. \"Oh, let it die a natural death. We shall probably be in at the funeral, anyhow.\" Steve was a little annoyed. Surveying Harris from head to foot and adopting the relentless manner of a judge, he said, \"Prep, you have a\"\n\"No one with a name like that can dwell on this ancient Hill. You are hereby dubbed \u2018Oscar.\u2019 Oscar? Oscar? stammered the boy. No one has ever addressed me as Oscar. I can't help that. You're Oscar from this date on, and don't you forget it. Now we'll have a rehearsal. Prep, what is your name? Alf - Oscar, I mean. Oscar, sir! Yes, sir, yes, sir, Oscar, sir! Thank you, sir! That's better. And Oscar, have those flowing golden locks of yours removed by tomorrow morning - really cut short. And at the same time, see that those little dabs of hair on your cheeks are taken off. They're positively indecent! Very well, sir.\" Just then, Mrs. Harris emerged from George Washington Hall, evidently a trifle disconcerted.\n\"and Tenny, are you coming with me?\", asked Mother.\n\"Right away, Mother,\" he answered, turning to Steve. \"May I depart now, sir?\" he asked respectfully.\n\"Yes, Oscar, you may go. But don't neglect our requests,\" replied Steve.\nBowing and putting his hat back on, Oscar walked off arm in arm with his mother towards Wendell Hall.\nMeanwhile, Mr. Lynton, the academy admission officer, sat in a stupor. His interview with Mrs. Harris had been brief, but debilitating, recalling no other experiences with mothers as peculiar as this one. Young Harris, based on college entrance examinations, had been tentatively admitted.\nThe hero appears:\n\nThe fact that the eighteen-year-old boy had been living with his mother in Europe for some time had been revealed in the preliminary correspondence. The father, a prosperous lawyer in Fort Worth, Texas, had volunteered for the National Army at the outbreak of the World War and had been mortally wounded at the head of his company in the Argonne Forest. His broken-hearted widow, a Philadelphia girl, had settled her husband's large estate and then sailed with her only son for France, hoping to find relief from her sorrow in changed surroundings. There, except for a few business trips to the United States, she had remained ever since, with Oscar as her chief consolation, dividing her time between Paris and the Riviera. It is hardly:\n\n(This text appears to be complete and readable, so no cleaning is necessary.)\nMrs. Harris had never fully recovered from her husband's sudden and terrific shock in the loss of her husband. As she sat in Mr. Lynton's office, dressed in black with soft brown eyes and a melodious voice, she was an appealing figure, evidently almost pathetically ignorant of American schools.\n\n\"Mr. Lynton,\" she went on when the arrangements had been settled, \"my son has always had a nurse and a governess, and has never heard a cross or profane word in all his life. Now I want you to promise not to put him in a dormitory with any rough boys.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid, Mrs. Harris, that we cannot absolutely guarantee the social prominence of his associates.\"\nBut Alfred, as you must have noticed, is exceptionally refined and fastidious. He has always moved among gentlemen, and I don't want his sensitive nature to be coarsened.\n\n\"Are you sure then that you have him in the right school, madam? This is a big institution, and there are bound to be all kinds of students in it. It is like a small world.\"\n\n\"Yes, he must come here, if only because his father was an Andover graduate and always enthusiastic about the place. But I do dread leaving my boy alone. You will watch him carefully to see that he wears rubbers on rainy days and puts on a muffler whenever it gets cold. You will, won't you, Mr. Lynton?\" She stretched out her hands beseechingly towards him.\n\nThe hero appears\n\nThrough long experience, Mr. Lynton had become adamant to such outbursts. Unruffled, he responded,\nMadam, I have nothing whatever to do with your son's career at Andover. You'll have to consult his house master regarding those details. I shall stay here long enough to ensure his engravings of French cathedrals are properly hung and all his suits are cleaned and pressed. Then I'm afraid that I must abandon the dear boy and let him shift for himself. Do you think that five hundred dollars a month will be a sufficient allowance for him?\n\nFor once, Mr. Lynton was jarred out of his habitual placidity. \"Great heavens, madam!\" he cried. \"That's more than most of his teachers are paid! It would be nothing short of sinful to put as much cash as that into his hands. Twenty dollars a month for spending money, exclusive of food, tuition, and clothes, is ample.\nMrs. Harris signed and touched her eyes gently with a black-bordered handkerchief. \"Perhaps you are right,\" she admitted. \"Oh, Mr. Lynton, I know I'm bothering you, but don't be impatient with me! You will have pity on a lonely mother and watch over my pet, won't you?\" Suppressing an impatient response, Mr. Lynton vowed to strictly guard the manners and morals of the newcomer. He terminated the conversation as quickly as possible, ensuring to do so tactfully. At the end of this dialogue, she rejoined her son and walked off with him in search of his new quarters. They strolled slowly by Old Pearson Hall to the Dining Hall and the Gymnasium, stopping every now and then.\nThey reached the Training Field, the historic plot of ground where General George Washington once reviewed the Andover militia. Pausing at the foot of the Memorial Tower, they read the long list of Andover men who died in the World War. Nearly at the top, carved deep in the enduring granite, was the name of Thomas Walker Harris, '99, Alfred's father. Mrs. Harris pointed it out to the boy and said, \"My son, I hope that you will always be worthy of him. He was a gallant soldier and a good man.\" The lad's shoulders straightened as they moved on, but he said nothing; his thoughts were too deep to be expressed.\n\nWhen they had crossed Main Street, Wendell Hall was in front of them, an oblong-shaped building.\nA three-story brick building with a main entrance in the middle of one side for the boys and a porch and door at each end. Mr. Lynton had explained to Mrs. Harris that the two married instructors in charge lived on the ground floor with their families. The two upper stories were devoted to single rooms and suites for students. To the west was open country, stretching down to woodland half a mile away, and there was a view of distant forest-covered hills. Mrs. Harris, accustomed to city boulevards, considered it almost out of civilization, but she had to confess to herself that the prospect was very beautiful indeed. Pressing the bell at the little porch, Mrs. Harris was soon admitted with Alfred to the apartments occupied by the proctor of that entry, a gentle man named Randall. Mrs. Randall, a pretty lady, welcomed them.\nA woman who looked hardly more than twenty greeted the visitors.\n\n\"Aren't you much too young to take care of boys?\" asked Mrs. Harris when the introductions were over.\n\n\"I'm not really responsible for them,\" smiled Mrs. Randall, half apologetically. \"Sometimes we have them down for tea or dinner, but I never go up in their rooms except when there is an emergency. There are janitors in every dormitory, of course.\"\n\n\"Then you couldn't keep after my Alfred to make sure that he dresses warmly enough when the winter weather comes?\"\n\n\"You haven't been here very long, have you, Mrs. Harris? When you discover how things are run, you will probably be glad to have your son manage his own affairs without having some woman like me trying to boss him.\"\n\n\"Oh, but he has never done that, my dear. He is quite responsible.\"\nA person I've always had someone around, a governess or a tutor, to tell him what to do. That's why I want him properly directed. I'm so much worried. Here the tiny handkerchief made its appearance, and tears seemed about to gush forth. Alfred, who had hitherto sat discreetly silent, now turned color and actually made a suggestion. \"Mother, don't you think that we had better go up to the room?\"\n\nTHE HERO APPEARS\n\nFortunately, Mr. Randall just then came in from his study, \u2013 a tall, slender man, more than slightly bald and evidently some years older than his girlish wife. He wore eyeglasses on a ribbon; and around his mouth, beneath a wisp of a mustache, there flickered a whimsical smile, which showed that he contrived to extract some humor from what is ordinarily supposed to be a desiccating profession. Having been thrown into contact\nWith all types of mothers and fathers, he believed himself an expert in their management. He had once published an essay anonymously in \"The Contributor's Column\" of The Atlantic Monthly on \"The Female Parent and Her Peculiarities.\" As a house master, he cherished few hopes and retained no illusions. He was known to the boys as \"Weary\" Randall.\n\nGreeting Mrs. Harris with the scrupulous politeness which he showed to every mother of one of his boys, he gladly agreed to escort her to Alfred's room. Located on the third floor, facing west, it had an extensive outlook over field and forest to the mountains of southern New Hampshire, even to Monadnock sixty miles away. It was fairly large and comfortably provided with heavy mission furniture.\nI must admit that it looks fairly clean, Mr. Randall, commented Mrs. Harris as she stared through her lorgnette at one object after another. But the rug is a trifle worn on this corner. It's too bad that it is so obviously of domestic manufacture. And there aren't nearly enough shelves to hold all Alfred's books.\n\nHe'll find no difficulty in purchasing bookcases, or anything else that he requires, at the furniture store downtown, replied Mr. Randall, with the skeptical tone of a teacher who was suspicious of any such signs of culture in a new student.\n\nYou see, I'm returning to France within a week, and I wish to be absolutely certain before I leave that Alfred is pleasantly established. Then my conscience will be clear.\nHe'll be all right, Mrs. Harris, I'm sure. In fact, I'll be entirely frank with you and say that it is not always wise for a mother to linger here with her son.\n\n\"That's just what I have tried to tell you, Mother,\" said Alfred, with an air of elation, as if the conversation were taking a turn which pleased him.\n\n\"Well, it's hard that a mother isn't wanted by her one and only child,\" pouted Mrs. Harris, bringing the handkerchief once more into action.\n\n\"It isn't that, madam,\" hastily explained Mr. Randall, who had no desire to provoke a scene. \"Sooner or later in Andover every student has to rely on his own resources \u2014 the sooner the better \u2014 and, if he can't, this is no place for him. It may seem hard to parents at first, but, if they're sensible, \u2014 and most of them are, \u2014 they soon come around to our opinion.\"\n\"Do you advise me then, to let Alfred buy all his own things?\"\n\"I certainly do. It won't take him long to learn what is needed, and he'll make fewer mistakes than you will. There are certain customs among the boys which he will not wish to go against.\"\n\"Very well, then, I'll leave town this afternoon, as soon as I have called upon the Headmaster. But I'm sure that Alfred will never be able to get under way himself.\"\n\"You'll find that he'll fight out his own problems and develop his own character by doing so, at least that's our theory here. And what he doesn't understand, I'll explain to him.\"\n\nThe conversation languished a little, and Mrs. Harris took her leave. Partly reassured by Mr. Randall's words, she watched Alfred go off by himself for his first meal at the Dining Hall.\nShe returned to the Phillips Inn for luncheon and a rest. In the late afternoon, she walked to the Head's residence and was received by him in his book-lined study. After announcing that she was placing her only son in the academy, she settled down to a recital of his virtues and peculiarities. The Head sank back in his wing chair, knowing exactly what to expect.\n\n\"My Alfred,\" she confided to him, \"is naturally a bright lad, and I have tried to bring him up like a gentleman.\"\n\nVisions of Little Lord Fauntleroy flitted through the Head's mind \u2013 of a broad starched collar, velvet suit, accurately parted hair, and dainty manners! How could he escape? Why hadn't he pleaded an important engagement?\n\nThe Head was a grey-haired man not much over fifty, whose life had been spent in dealing with schoolboys \u2013 as athletic coach, as teacher,\nThe hero appears, now leading a great academy. He knew youthful psychology, understanding a young man's hopes and fears, perversity, and underlying idealism. Year after year, he had seen classes come and go. He had watched timid youngsters develop into stalwart men; followed undersized \"preps\" until they became the heroes of Harvard-Yale football contests. He had noticed that manliness and independence are qualities which come only when the boy is placed on his own initiative. He had patiently listened a thousand times to Mrs. Harris's story. Nevertheless, he merely nodded enigmatically as he sat there, and she continued:\n\n\"But he has had something wrong with his stomach since he was a baby, and he could never eat some of the things which other people can.\"\nThe Head considered boys and their digestive issues, such as beans. I've had to feed one of them for a week with only light vegetable salad and nuts.\n\n\"What a time this Harris lad is in for!\" the Head thought. But, like some wise statesmen, he kept his speculations to himself.\n\n\"Perhaps you could have him report at your office two or three times a week and let you know how he's getting along with the diet I've told him to follow?\" the Head suggested. \"I want to be very cautious, you know, and your counsel might mean a great deal to him.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" the Head finally spoke up, roused from his silence and feeling the need for some explanation, \"do you realize that we have nearly seven hundred pupils in this institution? If I saw each one for five minutes a week, that would cover nearly sixty hours,\"\nThe Head was very pleasant, but he didn't want to be misunderstood. \"Oh, no! I should never forgive myself if he didn't get an Andover diploma. His father graduated here many years ago, and Alfred will follow him. He was 'Tom' Harris.\"\n\n\"What! Are you Tom Harris's widow?\"\nHe was one of the men I used to coach when I first came back to Andover. You should have let me know that you were bringing your boy here. Well, well! And when I heard the name, I did not dream that it could be Tom's family.\n\n\"Yes, Tom used to speak about you very often, but I didn't want your regard for Tom to influence your attitude towards my son. Besides, I didn't know but that you might have forgotten Tom.\"\n\n\"Forget Tom Harris? I should say not! No one could forget him and his record at Andover. He was a wonder.\"\n\nThe Head, now embarked on reminiscences, related story after story of the way in which Tom Harris, as a football star at Yale, had pulled victory out of defeat in critical moments; and before Mrs. Harris left, she had good reason to feel that she was in a friendly community. As she stood\nIn the hall, the Head said, \"Don't be discouraged because the school authorities may seem indifferent to your Alfred during this busy season. We are immensely interested and you will see this soon. It is the traditional policy of this place to urge each fellow to work out his own salvation. Let your boy alone for a year, and if he doesn't prove himself to be his father's son before next June, I shall be disappointed. He must have good stuff in him, it's bound to come out, and we shall bring it out.\"\n\nWith these cheering words lingering in her memory, Mrs. Harris returned to her room, met Alfred, rode to the station with him, and kissed him farewell in stoical fashion, without even a trace of a tear.\nThe parting lecture she had carefully prepared, in the model of those she had read in school stories. When the boy said, \"Mother, I'm not sure that I'm going to like this place,\" she simply answered, \"Nonsense! You'll be right at home within a week.\" And so, with more courage than she had thought she possessed, she waved to him from the car window; and Alfred Tennyson Harris, left alone for the first time in more than eighteen years, walked thoughtfully up School Street to his dormitory. He had been well trained in books. His real education, however, was now about to begin.\n\nCHAPTER II\nTHE HERO DISPLAYS HIS IGNORANCE\n\nLater that evening, while Mrs. Harris was leisurely eating her salad and listening to the orchestra in the Copley Plaza Hotel, where she was spending the night before going over to New England Academy, Alfred Tennyson Harris, alone for the first time in more than eighteen years, walked thoughtfully up School Street to his dormitory. He had been well trained in books. His real education, however, was now about to begin.\nAlfred was reclining on his window-seat, contemplating the artistic effect of a framed engraving of Amiens Cathedral, which he had just suspended over his mantelpiece. He could appreciate beauties like these because he had traveled among them. Steeped in meditation on the marvelous charm of that medieval monument of stone, there was a violent battering at his door, followed at once by the entrance of three familiar figures. One of whom he recognized as his morning guide.\n\n\"Hello, Oscar,\" began Joe, with deceptive suavity. \"I see you're getting settled a bit. I like your taste in room decoration. Those old churches are fine, aren't they?\"\n\"Yes, replied the flattered victim. I'm very fond of them. In fact, I specialized in ecclesiastical architecture while I was in Italy and Spain. Mother and I visited every cathedral we could discover in the guide-book. Some day you must give a little talk to the Society of Inquiry about these churches,\" suggested Hal in casual fashion. \"There are plenty of us who would go to listen,\" responded Oscar eagerly. \"I could illustrate it with some slides which I had made for my lantern. I am sure that it would be interesting.\" \"It would be interesting for us, have no fear,\" commented Ted Sherman. \"But here we are neglecting our business. You realize, of course, that we represent a small group of seniors who are particularly interested in new men. Now we've taken on another project.\"\nA special liking to you, and we want to ensure that you get started right. It isn't very cold this evening, but you'll be needing these radiators in here before long, and we thought we'd call on you and offer you an option on them before anyone else carries them off. They're of high quality, and we can let you have them at ten dollars apiece for the two \u2013 much less than cost price.\n\nOscar gasped! Almost since his babyhood, he had been familiar with the time-worn story of the unsophisticated college freshman who had been persuaded to pay money for the radiators in his room. Could he actually look as simple-minded as that? They must think him a moron! Nevertheless, he resolved to carry the joke through and see how far they would go.\n\n\"The radiators!\" he exclaimed. \"Those radiators!\"\n\"I assumed they went with the apartment over there. Not when they can be sold,\" replied Hal evasively. \"They'll cost you only ten simoleons each, and they're cheap at that. But, Mother did not notify me about that expense. Is there any other article I ought to purchase? Not tonight,\" answered Hal, with a commendable display of self-restraint, as he pocketed the twenty-dollar bill Oscar handed to him. Such easy picking as this was not often to be met with on Andover Hill! \"There'll be a chance later to subscribe to the various academy organizations, though,\" added Ted. \"And, if you want to make yourself popular right away, contribute liberally. Become a member.\"\nThree men, known as philanthropists, spoke warmly to Oscar. \"Shell out all you can spare, for it's a good investment. We'll help you all we can, won't we, fellows?\" Joe chimed in with unconcealed emotion. \"We don't meet a 'prep' like you every week, Oscar - a man who combines intelligence and sympathy with wealth and generosity.\"\n\n\"Yes, we'll see you again, Oscar, my lad,\" said Hal. \"And by the way, don't let anyone else sell you anything. There are some crooks around this Hill who wouldn't hesitate to cheat you out of your mother's photograph. If they approach you, just inform them that Mr. Harold C. Manning has been here ahead of them.\"\n\n\"Very well, sir,\" replied Oscar in docile acquiescence. The three pirates parted with lingering handclasps and went chuckling down the stairs.\n\"the night. A few minutes later, they were assembled in Steve's room, telling him the story.\n\n\"That's funny, all right,\" said Steve, \"but twenty iron men is just a bit too much like highway robbery. We can't keep that for ourselves. I don't mind holding a 'prep' up for enough to buy a feed, but - \"\n\n\"I know that,\" put in Hal, \"but what are we to do? He just oozes money. We can't very well return it to the poor fish with our apologies.\"\n\n\"I'll tell you,\" suggested Joe, \"let's start a fund for magazines in the Grill. We can add to it a little at a time ourselves, and perhaps we can even get more cash for it tonight.\"\n\nThus, it was that the \"Oscar Harris Fund\" was established without the knowledge of the donor; and the income from it is devoted each year to subscriptions for such periodicals as the Yale Review.\"\nThe Daily News and Harvard Crimson were read eagerly by the Grill's frequenters. When the tale was later related to Oscar, he thoroughly approved of how his money was disposed. Just before the conclave broke up, Hal inquired, \"How do you feel now about the possibility of making anything out of this Oscar, Steve? Don't you think it looks a little hopeless?\" \"I'm ready to admit that the material is poor,\" Steve replied. \"But there's a sporting possibility that he may improve. I'm not going to abandon faith in this school yet.\" With these comments on the situation, the four friends went to their slumbers as seniors in the great academy. Meanwhile, Oscar was lying awake, puzzled over the turn of events. On the boat coming over from Europe, his mother had placed in his hands copies of Canon Farrar's sermons.\nThe famous English school stories, \"Eric or Little by Little\" and \"St. Winifred's, or The World of School,\" gave a true picture of life at Andover in Oscar's ignorant belief. From Eric's experiences at Roslyn, Oscar had expected to be hazed and even looked forward to it. An extraordinary scene occurred when Oscar's father intervened to prevent his son from being bullied. It was to Oscar's credit that he determined to allow no one to protect him from injury. However, Oscar had not suspected that the older boys would take him for a fool, which was evidently what had occurred. It is no wonder that he needed time to think.\n\nWhat happened to Oscar in the next few days may best be gathered from a letter:\nDearest Mother, you will be pleased to hear that I find myself very comfortable in Andover, though there are a few annoyances. An hour ago, when I was quietly reading the copy of Montaigne's Essays which you left with me, a group of noisy young men, apparently my neighbors in this dormitory, entered my apartment without knocking and forced me to accompany them outdoors, although I was clothed only in my blue silk pajamas and my red and black striped dressing-gown. When I reached the campus, I confronted a throng of undergraduates, some of whom requested that I address them, calling repeatedly, 'We want Os-car! We want Oscar!' Although I was well aware that I was being made an object of ridicule, I mounted a barrel without protesting; but\nI was frequently disrupted as I began to speak, as a robust man struck me from behind. I could only manage to utter three or four words before this happened. I regretfully admit that the crowd forced me to open my dressing-gown and reveal my pajamas with the embroidered monogram. This action was met with three distinct cheers from them. The name they use for me is 'Oscar.' Based on some of their comments, I believe I am already well-known.\n\nI find that I will need more money than I had anticipated. Last night, I was required to make customary contributions to the academy and organizations, such as the Society of Inquiry and the religious club here, totaling twenty-five dollars. However, the men who asked for donations were rough-looking and occasionally indulged in rude behavior.\n\"By tomorrow I shall have all my pictures up and my china arranged in the cupboards so that I can serve tea when any of my friends wish it. I am sure that I shall enjoy my sojourn here, even though all the students are not as refined as I had expected.\n\nAffectionately,\nAlfred.\n\nOscar was correct in at least one of his deductions; there was no new man that autumn who was better advertised than he. His crimson-and-black gown of Chinese silk had attracted universal attention, and he was soon recognized as a prize \"ignoramus\" at Andover, in a different environment, he was completely out of his element.\"\nHe was far from stupid, despite his ridiculous early training. He was usually aware when he was being \"razzed,\" though he might be at a loss to discover what peculiarity of his was causing so much amusement. He had resolved to keep his head, endure his tribulations patiently, and learn as rapidly as possible. A walk across the campus in his white fedora taught him something, and within an hour he had acquired the odd little \"prep\" cap, blue with a white button on top. It was not becoming to him, but at least it did not make him conspicuous, for he saw caps of the same sort everywhere. His high, starched wing collar, which had been quite in vogue on the Rue de Rivoli, was, he perceived, quite out of keeping with the soft negligees around him, and he made an investment in a more appropriate collar.\nOscar had adopted the style of sport shirts among his fellow students by the end of his first week. His clothes were not in the prevailing Andover mode, and he resolved to consult an American tailor at the earliest opportunity and have himself measured for a new suit or two. He had, of course, visited Tony Caruso, the local barber, for the clipping of his long locks and the removal of the objectionable sideburns. All these transformations took some time, but by the first of October, Mrs. Harris would hardly recognize her offspring.\n\nAs for textbooks and routine studies, Oscar was unusually well-informed. From an early age, he had been in the charge of excellent tutors who had pushed him forward as fast as he was willing to go. However, he had never set foot in a classroom.\nIn a classroom of his life, and he was unfamiliar with the methods pursued there. The prospect of recitations did not daunt him in the least, for he had some justifiable vanity regarding his attainments. For this reason, his pride was destined to have a heavy fall.\n\nActual study did not begin for two or three days after his arrival, and Oscar devoted this intervening period to an examination of his surroundings. In a spirit of curiosity, he wandered over the hilltop, strolling across the broad playing fields, prowling around the Gymnasium, and even entering the Archaeology Museum, where the courteous curator, Professor Moreton, in his delight at this evidence of undergraduate interest in his subject, took pains to point out the rarer skulls and relics. Gazing critically at the portraits of the Founders in the library, Oscar concluded.\nThe man eluded that they were inferior to those in the Prado and the Louvre. He marveled at the number and variety of the academy buildings and the extent of the property. He completed his tour of investigation with a feeling that he had become a unit in a complex machine, with wheels revolving within wheels, in which each undergraduate, even himself, had a function to perform.\n\nWhen the regular morning chapel services started, Oscar, whose religious training had been somewhat desultory, was thrilled to be one of over six hundred men in the great auditorium, and he was profoundly stirred by the prayer of the Head, whose deep-toned and powerful voice filled the amphitheater. As soon as the assembly was dismissed, Oscar made his way to Pearson Hall, where he was scheduled.\nHis program to join a section in Senior English. Desirous of making an impression, he went directly to the platform desk and interrupted the teacher, who was busy making notes in a book. \"I thought I would inform you, sir, that I am very much interested in English,\" \"And who are you, may I ask?\" was the answering query. \"My name is Alfred Tennyson Harris, sir.\" \"You must be a new student this fall, aren't you, Harris?\" \"Yes, sir, I am. But I'm looking forward to this course.\" \"Well, Harris,\" broke in Mr. Loring, \"you may see too much of it before you get through the year.\" The instructor was a portly gentleman, with a shock of heavy coal-black hair and an habitually gloomy expression, who cherished an enthusiasm for literature which he hardly dared to disclose.\nA teacher, inspiring to his colleagues, was greeted by the irreverent students with the nickname \"Dolly.\" He had spent fifteen years at Andover, acquainted with every type of undergraduate, from the shameless bluffer to the incorrigible \"grind.\" Nothing surprised him much, but in this instance, he couldn't help looking up to see what kind of rare bird had entered his course. A glance at Oscar's ingenuous countenance assured him that the lad was earnest and not trying to be fresh. He gestured to the nearest bench and returned to his computations.\n\nOscar took a seat just under the teacher, believing his talent would not be ignored. Most of the others had modestly chosen places in the rear of the room.\nThe consequence being that the front rows were nearly all vacant. Oscar was thus very much by himself. But he recognized in the far corners some fellows whom he had already met - Steve Fisher, for example, and Joe Watson, whose huge bulk could not be mistaken.\n\nWaiting until the warning gong had rung at seven minutes past eight, Mr. Loring then greeted the class in a little talk, outlining for them the work proposed for the term - some rhetoric, a little grammar, the study of English Literature, and the careful reading of Shakespeare\u2019s Hamlet.\n\n\u201cBut, sir,\u201d spoke up Oscar, after madly waving his hand in the air and being recognized, \u201cI\u2019ve read Hamlet two or three times.\u201d\n\nThe sophisticated old-settlers in the room tittered softly. This was an unexpected diversion! But Mr. Loring was not in the least disturbed.\n\n\u201cWe are indeed fortunate,\u201d he said in his dry tone.\n\"Doubtless we shall have frequent occasion to ask your opinion on difficult passages,\" Mr. Way said. \"The boys could not restrain their laughter, and Oscar, a trifle disconcerted, had nothing more to say. The idea was penetrating his brain that any too obvious effort to attract a teacher's impression was simply not \"good form.\" Watching for a few minutes, he noticed that most of the men were attending strictly to business, jotting down items in notebooks and going at their work seriously, but taking care not to become conspicuous. He began to regret that he had not picked a seat in a less public situation. Now he was a marked man. He would be set apart by the class as a \"boot-licker\" to be shunned like a leper, \u2014 a survival of the \"nice\" boy who, in grammar school, always brings apples.\"\nOscar presented flowers and fruits to the teacher. This incident gave Oscar much to ponder, and in the end, proved beneficial.\n\nOscar had a true knack for writing. As a child, he was surrounded by good books and had read Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver's Travels before he could walk. Later, he devoured the historical stories of G.A. Henty. His mother had insisted on reading Scott and Dickens aloud to him, and he had even sought out authors such as Smollett and Fielding. His latest idol had been Stevenson, whose novels, essays, and poems had captivated him with their romantic charm. With this background, he had acquired a keen appreciation for the best in literature and was also able to write with some correctness and ease. His first theme, on the subject \"My Generation,\" was so steeped in its topic that he found it difficult to express his ideas clearly and succinctly.\nIn Max Beerbohm and Aldous Huxley, Mr. Loring could hardly believe his senses. \"Why!\" he exclaimed to one of his colleagues, \"here's a boy who looks like a comic character in a vaudeville skit, but he writes prose like a young Oscar Wilde! I wish I knew who taught him his style.\"\n\nIt was while he was still ignorantly adhering to the Andover code of conduct that Oscar, who cherished secret ambitions to become a poet, resolved one evening to call formally on the Head. Donning a dinner jacket as he would have done in London or Paris, he somehow managed to slip out of his dormitory without being observed by his neighbors. If they had seen him thus arrayed in purple and fine linen, they would certainly have stirred up a commotion. Upon being ushered into the Head's presence, Oscar was a little abashed.\nThe Head conducted himself with dignity, puzzling the older man about the identity of his well-dressed young visitor. Concluding the caller was a candidate for a vacancy on the teaching staff, he said, \"Good-evening. I am glad to see you.\" Oscar rose to the occasion with the bearing of one thoroughly accustomed to such treatment. They sat for a moment, and the Head, to put his guest at ease, said, \"Do you know, I'm afraid I didn't catch your name. I forget faces very easily; but somehow yours is familiar, although I can't quite place it.\" \"I'm Alfred Tennyson Harris, sir,\" Oscar answered weakly, \"and I'm a student in the senior class.\" \"Well, well!\" The Head burst into peals of laughter.\n\"And I took you for a college graduate! That's a good one, all right! Why, I had a talk with your mother only a few days ago and she told me all about you. And now, Harris, what can I do for you? \"Sir, I am ambitious to become a poet and should like to ascertain the best channels in this country for getting my verses known.\" \"Ah! \" commented the Head. He was beginning to see what Oscar was like. \"And no doubt you have already written something?\" \"I haven't composed very much yet, but I'm sure that I possess in some degree what has been described as the \u2018divine afflatus.\u2019 I've read many volumes of poetry, and it's easy enough to do. But I must, of course, find a publisher before I can feel justified in devoting all my spare hours to literature.\" \"Yes, that is supposed by many to be essential.\"\nThe Head muttered, \"But I should like to see a man of your rhymes.\"\n\n\"I don't work in rhymes, sir, but I have one or two little effusions,\" responded Oscar, drawing a notebook from his pocket.\n\nStanding up and posing on the rug in front of the mantelpiece, he declaimed in a loud voice: \"Winter, rough winter, I long for thee! Thou comest like a leaping Newfoundland dog, With shaggy coat and rumbling growl, And bitest at my sombre cheek!\"\n\n\"Ah!\" murmured the Head, almost inaudibly. \"An unusual metrical form! Just what is the prevailing rhythm?\"\n\n\"There isn't any,\" replied Oscar, a little disconcerted. \"It's free verse, like the poems of Amy Lowell and Ezra Pound and John Gould Fletcher. Fletcher is an old Andover man, and my work is something like his.\"\n\"Very like!\" said the Head, absorbed in thought. \"Did a Newfoundland dog ever bite your cheek?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, sir, that's a figure of speech - what is called an hyperbole. Don't you recognize it?\"\n\n\"Surely! Now that you direct my attention to the fact, I can see it all. And why do you use the word \u2018sombre\u2019?\"\n\n\"It's just an adjective which I put in to indicate that I am sad.\"\n\n\"Very sad!\" said the Head, talking to himself.\n\n\"You see, sir, it's what's called technically an imagist poem. It is intended to stimulate the imagination. Can\u2019t you just see winter leaping along and nipping people\u2019s ears?\"\n\n\"Yes, my imagination does carry me that far.\"\n\n\"What ought I to do with this little sketch, sir? Shall I submit it to the school magazine? I'm ready to follow your suggestion.\"\n\"I should use it to light a fire,\" said the Head, cruelly but honestly. \"It's all tomfoolery! I'm sorry to tell you that it isn't poetry at all. It's drivel. You had better go back to your room and read some Keats or Tennyson. Or else stick to prose. You're on the wrong track here.\"\n\n\"Don't you think that Houghton, Mifflin or some other publishers would accept a volume from me?\"\n\n\"You might possibly be able to sell it to Judge or College Comics. But my candid counsel to you is to write essays. It seems to me that Mr. Loring told me that you had some promise in that field.\"\n\nIn a minute or two more, Oscar was out in the street, looking up at the silent stars and wishing that he had never been born. The faculty gave him no encouragement. They could not appreciate genius like his. When he returned to the dormitory.\nThe man changed into his bathrobe and went to the second floor for a chat with \"Bull\" Taylor, a new friend. Seeking comfort, he revealed all the details of the affair and read him the selection.\n\n\"Gosh, that's terrible,\" Bull said bluntly. \"It's the worst poem I've ever heard. Don't you think there's anything to it?\"\n\n\"I shouldn't think so. It doesn't even rhyme, and it has no music at all. I'm surprised the Head didn't dismiss you on the spot. You ought to tear it up and forget about poetry.\"\n\n\"I don't care about that. All I want is fame.\"\n\n\"Your advice to me is to tear it all up in small pieces.\"\nAnd you'll go 'nutty' if you keep producing 'drool' like that. Bull's language was far from Addisonian, but his derision accomplished something in the way of results. Before going to bed, Oscar sat down at his desk, picked out all his manuscript poems, and burned them one by one. Had not Bull announced that they were worthless? And Bull, whose grade for the previous year in English had been 42, probably never realized what a service he had performed.\n\nCHAPTER III\nTHE HERO MAKES A FRIEND\n\nOscar's intimacy with Bull Taylor had been fostered by an unusual combination of circumstances. Two or three weeks after school began, the geometry instructor, Mr. Spire, had given a written test. It presented no difficulties to Oscar; but, when the period had closed, he approached Mr. Spire's desk and said, \"Sir, I don't have...\"\nA boy was copying my paper for an hour while I was looking on. Mr. Spire, a wise and kindly man who had recently graduated from college and still held the spirit of his undergraduate days, almost shivered as he heard Oscar's words. He studied Oscar's face to learn the boy's motive. Finally, he found the strength to speak.\n\n\"Are you accusing one of your classmates of cheating?\"\n\n\"I thought, sir, that it would be honorable on my part to inform the authorities. It's not done here in Andover.\"\n\"I beg your pardon, sir,\" said Oscar, after a moment's reflection. \"I had assumed that cribbing was a matter which any honest man was bound to report. I'm sorry. I am always making mistakes.\" And he turned and walked away, still not a little confused in his mind.\n\nOscar's perturbation was more natural than it perhaps seems. He well remembered a scene in Eric, or Little by Little in which one of the principal characters, having been bullied by an upper classman, promptly secured revenge by reporting his troubles to the Headmaster. Oscar would never have done this; but he did have a high sense of honor which made him wish to settle ethical problems in a right way.\n\nOn his stroll back to Wendell Hall he wondered whom he could confide in.\nOscar had no intimate friends and felt keenly his isolation. He saw no feasible method of overcoming it, despite his desire to associate with others. He was not proud or snobbish, but struggled to meet others on their level. Below Oscar, on the second floor of Wendell Hall, lived a fellow student named Emmet O'Brien Taylor, from Brookyln, but he was always referred to as \"Bull.\" Bull was not an Adonis.\nA short, broad-shouldered man with red hair and a stubby nose, his mouth always open in a good-natured grin. His ordinary gait was a kind of slouch, arms hanging as if ready for a fight. He had a special fondness for old and tattered garments, especially shirts and sweaters, some resembling museum relics. His speech had a kind of Bowery twang, and he said \"wild\" and \"woik\" just as naturally as Hal Manning said \"can't\" and \"rather.\" Bull was a diamond in the rough.\n\nBut with all these external eccentricities, Bull had a host of loyal friends. Most men who knew him realized he was working his way through Andover by waiting on table at the \"Beanery\" and running a laundry agency. They had heard him tell vividly of the days when\nHe had sold papers at one end of Brooklyn Bridge. His father and mother had died when he was small, and he had no family except an old uncle who fed and clothed him in return for the money which the youngster could make by selling news papers on the street. The boy had been helped by an Andover alumnus, who, attracted by his cheerful smile, had put him in a grammar school and had then sent him to The Head with a letter describing his past. He had now been four years at Andover, struggling hard for his diploma. It is an interesting fact that it was of Bull that Oscar first thought when he started out on his quest for information.\n\nSo it was that, when the eight o'clock bell rang that evening and everybody, according to the academy regulations, was supposed to be engaged in study, Oscar descended to the floor below.\nOscar knocked on Bull's door.\n\"Come in, come in,\" a harsh voice shouted, and Oscar timidly turned the knob and peeked inside.\n\"Come in, you dodo,\" roared Bull, not yet aware who his caller was. \"Don\u2019t stand there all night.\"\n\"Will you allow me to talk with you for a brief period?\" inquired Oscar, in a faltering manner.\n\"Sure, Mike! Responded Bull. \u201cBlaze away! I\u2019m a generous pup, I am! Got hours to burn! Sit down, Oscar, and tell me all your troubles.\"\nOscar sat down gingerly on the edge of the chair which Bull shoved in his direction.\n\"What's the matter? Afraid there's a spike in it? It's the only extra seat I\u2019ve got, but I thought it was all right.\"\n\"No, I\u2019m not exactly frightened,\" said Oscar, smiling at Bull\u2019s remark. \"I just don\u2019t want to bother you, that\u2019s all. And besides, I have an idea that you\u2019ll think I\u2019m a fool.\"\n\"Oh, what difference does it make?\", replied Bull, beginning to comprehend Oscar's shyness.\n\"I'm really not busy now. My Geometry for tomorrow's a cinch, and my Cicero is all done. I'm glad to see you, Oscar. Anything on your mind?\"\n\"Yes, there is,\" Oscar blurted out, gathering courage. \"I know I'm queer, but I can't understand some of these school customs. You see, I've lived abroad for quite a few years, and I've always eaten and slept in hotels. I hardly ever saw any fellows of my own age.\"\n\"Gosh, what a life!\", interjected Bull. \"Didn't you hate it?\"\n\"Not so much then, while it was going on. I didn't know any better. My mother and I were together most of the time, and there was usually a tutor around, some Frenchman or Italian. Of course I forgot everything about the United States.\"\n\"I'm in America, and everyone thinks I'm a freak. I don't fit in. 'It's not so bad as all that. You'll come through flying.' 'Here's a case, Bull.' I regained my self-confidence and explained the cribbing episode from the morning. 'I hate to see anybody do a mean trick and not get caught. I just took it for granted that it was my duty to report the matter. I'd have done the same about a burglary. But it didn't take me long to see that I had committed a faux pas.' 'I don't know exactly what that is,' answered Bull, 'but whatever it is, you did it. You see, it's like this in Andover. The best fellows don't do any cribbing. You'll never find Joe Watson doing it.'\"\nBut Steve Fisher was attempting to get away with such behavior. However, there were bound to be some bad actors in a crowd of six hundred boys from various parts of the country. Some of them cheated and weren't caught. They weren't the respected men, but no one would ever tell on them. It's an odd aspect of the honor code, I suppose, but there's a feeling that it isn't right to \"blab\" on another man. The theory may be wrong, but we all believe in it, even the professors. That's why Benny Spire didn't want to listen to you. If he had caught the fellow himself, he would have had him \"fired\"; but he didn't think it was good sportsmanship for you to provide him with the evidence. Does this help clarify the situation?\n\n\"I understand,\" said Oscar, thoughtfully.\nBut it looks to me like compounding a felony.\n\"There you are talking over my head again!\" was Bull's reply. But, anyway, I'm sure that I shouldn't report anything like that. I should be ashamed to do it.\n\"Well, perhaps the fellow will get found out some day.\"\nHe will; don't worry. It\u2019s only a question of time. He probably will be dropped before spring.\nThis little talk with Bull was the beginning of a staunch friendship between the two boys \u2014 one fastidious, refined, and sensitive, the other rough, uncultured, and thick-skinned, but trying his hardest to learn the ways of the world to which Oscar belonged. Bull recognized and respected in Oscar some qualities which he himself would have been glad to possess \u2014 tact, self-control, and ease. Oscar, for his part, perceived in Bull a robustness.\nOscar and Bull's friendship brought Oscar comfort and protection against unwarranted attacks. Bull, a reliable supporter, was an unlikely ally in a crisis. The two made an amusing contrast, especially when they went to class together. Oscar, impeccably dressed in a suit and overcoat made by Dunne, contrasted sharply with Bull in his gaudily colored lumberman's jacket of ancient vintage.\n\nDespite never having been subjected to any routine, Oscar frequently found himself at odds with restrictions he was unaware of. In the first instance, he failed to secure his Blue Book - a thin volume codifying academy rules and traditions, offering the \"preps\" valuable advice. One bright morning after his English recitation, Oscar started walking down Main Street to get a check.\nBefore reaching Morton Street, the boy was stopped by an older man who asked, \"What are you doing in this locality, prep? Don't you know that you're forbidden to go down-town by way of Main Street? You must be a fresh one!\" Having changed his course to Bartlet Street, the boy arrived at his destination without further interruptions. However, when he visited the Registrar's office the next day, he found a \"cut\" recorded against his name for \"being down-town without permission during study hours.\" Some teacher had seen and reported him, and he, of course, had not secured an excuse from his house-professor, Mr. Randall. When Oscar complained of injustice, the Registrar, Mr.\nFoxcroft smiled blandly and said, \"Ignorance of the law is no excuse.\" That evening, Oscar went out of Wendell Hall at nine o'clock to mail a letter at the letter-box on the corner. He was absent only four or five minutes. But during that period, Weary Randall made an inspection of the dormitory and finding Oscar out of his room, put him down for another cut. A night or two later, hearing a fearful tumult in the corridor, Oscar naturally stepped out to investigate the cause of the commotion. As he stood idly watching a wrestling match which was going on among some of the smaller boys, Mr. Randall mounted the stairs in his bathrobe, his face flushed with indignation, and, catching sight of Oscar, snapped out, \"Go to your room, Harris, and consider that you've earned another.\"\nWhen Oscar began to assert his innocence, Mr. Randall, in no mood for absolute justice, silenced him and proceeded to discover and punish the real \"rough-housers.\" Oscar, making another visit to the Registrar, found he had acquired a black mark which could not be removed. He was horror-stricken to learn that eight of these would mean his dismissal from the school. Thus he found himself, almost before the term had started, with two \"cuts\" and one demerit - from his point of view, a shameful situation, although to Bull it seemed laughable. \"Cuts\" and demerits were no novelty to Bull.\n\nWorse than this, however, Oscar unwittingly made himself seem defiant of school etiquette. When the lad who sat next to him at the \"Beanery,\" - as the Dining Hall was affectionately known - made a derogatory comment about a teacher, Oscar, instead of remaining silent, defended the teacher. This only served to fuel the rumors that he was a \"school-marm's pet\" and further solidified his position as an outcast.\nOnce Oscar was asked by Hal Manning in the afternoon to go watch football practice, Oscar calmly declared that he had planned to read some French magazines and had no interest in football. After this surprising statement, Oscar was shunned as if he were a Bolshevist. However, once Oscar became acquainted with Bull Taylor, his mistakes began to decrease in number and seriousness. He formed the habit of consulting Bull on any doubtful matters, and Bull's knowledge and native common sense saved Oscar from many ridiculous blunders. Some of Oscar's adventures were more amusing than important. For instance, at Hal Manning's request, he visited the Chemical Laboratory to ask Mr. Lapham, the instructor, for a gallon of carbon monoxide to kill the ants in Phillips Hall. The teacher, after some searching inquiries, provided Oscar with the requested substance.\nI. learned how the land lay and ordered Oscar to tell Hal to come himself. Hal did not appear, but he was later summoned to an interview with Mr. Lapham. From which he emerged a sadder and in some respects a wiser man.\n\nII. In accordance with a suggestion made by Mr. Lynton, Oscar had signed up at the \"Beanery\" instead of at one of the private boarding-houses. Mr. Lynton had explained that any new man ought to eat where he could become acquainted with a large number of fellows, not in a private house where there would be only a small group.\n\nIII. The \"Beanery\" was a beautiful colonial brick building, more than a century old, surrounded by tall elms. The average undergraduate, however, saw little of its charm. To him, it was a place where several hundred of his mates assembled three times a day.\nThe function of eating, and which, during those periods, was alive with noise and activity, student waiters rushing from table to table, and an atmosphere of \"Finish as soon as you can!\". Bull Taylor was one of the managers on the floor, having risen to this position of authority after long experience in other capacities. The food, although simple, was nourishing, and there was plenty of it. It was, from the hygienic standpoint, exactly suited to the young animals who were there to be fed.\n\nOscar, however, had been accustomed to somewhat different fare. In Paris, he and his mother had usually dined at restaurants like Voisin's and Foyot's, famous for their cuisine. It was a sharp descent from fillet of beef, crepe suzette, and French pastry to baked beans and brown bread, shredded wheat, and apple pie. Mrs. Harris had\nMr. Slater received Oscar cordially in his office. \"I knew your father, 'Tom' Harris, very well indeed,\" he said.\nA member of my society here and at Yale, he was younger than I, but I met him often. He was a mighty fine athlete. If you resemble him, you'll make your mark at Andover. \"I'm afraid that I don't, sir,\" replied Oscar, once much ashamed of his undeveloped muscles and unimpressive physique. \"I have never had a chance to do anything in outdoor games.\" \"That's too bad,\" answered Mr. Slater, taking a look at Oscar's narrow chest and thin legs. \"Perhaps we can get you into athletics before long. You must call at my house some time and talk it over with me. But that will come later. What can I do for you just now?\" \"Well, I hate to be a kicker,\" went on Oscar, after a little pause of embarrassment, \"but I did want to speak about the food at the 'Beanery'.\"\n\"At the 'Beanery'? What's the matter with the food there? Most boys seem to thrive on it all right. It may be good enough for some people, but it doesn't seem very appetizing to me. Suppose you be perfectly frank and tell me a few of your criticisms, won't you? Perhaps I can institute a reform. Well, to begin with, they never give us hors d'oeuvres or salad. Not a bit! And we don't get any light, flaky pastry such as I have been used to. Anything else? Well, they never serve us anything except the common ordinary kinds of jellies; and the cream for breakfast isn't as thick as I should like to have it. It took very strong provocation to rouse Mr. Slater to anger, but he was obviously on the verge of committing homicide.\"\n\"Look here, young man, I find it difficult to control my voice as I say this to you. You seem to believe that you're living at the Ritz. Don't you understand that, at the price we pay, we can't afford to provide you with pearls and artichokes? And aren't you aware that such delicacies are not what the average young man wants or ought to have? The boys in this school are building up their bodies. They should have simple food, like beef and potatoes and bread and butter. Why, look at you, lad! If you had been brought up on oatmeal and steak, you would be a stronger fellow today. That's your trouble. You've had too much luxury in your life.\"\n\n\"Maybe you're right,\" said Oscar, with a sickly grin on his face. \"Nobody has ever spoken to me like this before. I'm beginning to see that...\"\n\"You go back to the Dining Hall, Harris, and eat the food there until Christmas. If you have lost any weight by then, I'll see that you're transferred somewhere else. But suppose you try it out. I guess I've learned a lesson, Mr. Slater,\" answered Oscar, with just a note of discouragement in his voice. \"Sometimes I think that I spend most of my time discovering how big a jackass a fellow can be.\" \"That's what this school is for, my boy,\" responded Mr. Slater, rising and putting his hand sympathetically on Oscar's shoulder. \"Just come always and tell me out in the open when you have anything to object to, and we'll try to adjust it. Only I don't want you fellows going around complaining without letting me hear it. I'm responsible for the 4 Beanery/ as you call it, and I\"\nTry to have things right there. And now that I\u2019ve preached my sermon, you\u2019ll drop in again, won't you, \"I certainly will, sir, if you'll let me. And I want to apologize for taking up so much of your time.\" \"That's all right. Come in again.\" And Mr. Slater was left with another anecdote to add to his collection of Andover stories.\n\nTo Oscar, this was merely another one of the train of incidents which caused him to do some deep meditating. Those narrow-minded people who believe that education is derived solely from text-books will perhaps not understand Oscar\u2019s case. There was nothing slow about his mind, and, once a lesson was impressed upon him, he did not forget it. As a result primarily of observation, he acquired that stoicism which should be the necessary equipment of any strong man, either in school or in life. He learned better than to complain.\nThe Andover Way:\n\nHe endured no difficulties with food, lessons, or rough treatment. When jokes were played at his expense, he merely smiled good-naturedly in response. Before long, he had developed a reputation for repartee. However, the problem was that his entire past, eighteen years of it, had been devoted to forming habits that were now difficult to break away from. It was hard to resist ordering \"Beanery\" waiters around, but when he observed one of them, a stalwart football player, administer corporal punishment to a fresh \"prep,\" Oscar saw which direction discretion lay. It was an ordeal to get accustomed to soft collars and lounge clothes and knickerbockers. It was not easy to acquire the slang, or, as his rhetoric book put it, the \"localisms,\" that he heard all around him.\nAnd the classroom instruction, carried on by sarcastic instructors, seemed relentless to him. But little by little, he went through the process of adjustment to new surroundings, which is always difficult, whether with animals or human beings. By Christmas, he felt himself to be part of the school.\n\nIt was Bull Taylor, after all, who had been his chief teacher, and Oscar recognized the obligation. But he saw that it would not be good form to say much about it. One evening, Bull, in a lazy mood, picked up a copy of Oscar's Eric or Little by Little, which was lying on the table. Suddenly, he burst into loud laughter. \"Look here,\" he roared. \"Just listen to this:\"\n\n\"They sat down on a green bank just beyond the beach, and watched the tide come in, while the sea-distance was crimson with the glory of the sun.\"\nThe beauty and murmur filled them with a quiet happiness, not untinged with the melancholy thought of parting the next day.\n\n\"At last, Eric broke the silence. \"Russell, let me always call you Edwin, and call me Eric.\"\n\n\"Very gladly, Eric. Your coming here has made me so happy.\" And the two boys squeezed each other's hands and looked into each other's faces, and silently promised that they would be loving friends forever.\n\n\"Did you ever listen to any such bunk as that!?\" he shouted, as he threw the book at Oscar's head. \"That author knows boy nature, doesn't he? I'd like to talk with him about half an hour and tell him a few things from my busy young life.\"\n\n\"Yes, he certainly writes mush,\" answered Oscar. \"And the funny part of it is that I once believed all that he wrote.\"\n\"It's queer, isn't it?\" said Bull, in a meditative mood, not very common with him. \"Here I am, just grown up out of the streets. I never been in Europe and probably never shall. I never had a room in a decent hotel, and the only theaters I've ever been in have been movie palaces. Sometimes I've actually had to go without food for twenty-four hours, and once I slept on a bench in Central Park. I've really never known what luxury is. And here you are, a pampered pet, with everything you could possibly want. It's strange that I should be here sitting in your room. You don't realize how strange it is; you can't.\"\n\n\"And yet you have gotten much more out of life than I have,\" interposed Oscar. \"You learned somehow to take care of yourself and get along with other people. And here I am, just what you call a common 'dub,' without any hope\"\n\"for the future I\u2019d change places with you any day,\" said Oscar.\n\"Not if you knew the facts,\" was Bull's reply.\n\"Anyhow, we could never have become friends in any other school that I know of,\" answered Oscar.\n\"I\u2019m not so sure,\" replied Bull. \"Don\u2019t you remember what Kipling says:\nHE MAKES A FRIEND\n'For there shall be neither East nor West, nor border, nor breed, nor birth,\nWhen two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth.'\n\"Well, we\u2019re the two strong men, all right,\" Bull joked. \"And we do come almost from the ends of the earth \u2014 Paris, France, and Seventh Avenue, Brooklyn! Let\u2019s pray that Kipling had the right doctrine!\"\n\nCHAPTER IV\nTHE HERO DISCOVERS HIS MUSCLES\n\nBecause Oscar had been a rather delicate baby, he had seldom been permitted by his adoring mother to join in competitive sports with others.\nHe had never seen a football game or watched a race on the cinder track until he reached Andover. He had done some swimming at the Lido and Deauville, and learned how to play a skilled game of billiards, but his progress as an athlete had gone no further. The mere thought of violent physical exercise was abhorrent to him, simply because he had come to think of his body as irreparably weak and useless. He had tried many brands of pills and tonics, but had never lifted a weight nor pounded a punching-bag. It must be confessed also that he had formed the cigarette habit and smoked surreptitiously, concealing the odor by a judicious use of peppermint lozenges. Despite his mental advancement, which was ahead of most lads of his age, he was physically behind.\nThe much inferior son of his muscular father, who had been the most daring halfback of his time, was discouraged by seeing him. Mrs. Harris had early concluded that Alfred Tennyson was a confirmed invalid, doomed to ill health for the remainder of his days, and required careful watching to save his life. She ensured his feet stayed dry and his neck didn't chill. The only noticeable outcome was that he spent each winter battling a series of colds and infections, barely recovering before contracting another. It's no wonder the boy dreaded New England winters.\n\nShortly after the recitation work began, a call was issued in chapel one morning for all.\nnew students report at the Gymnasium for physical examination and classification. Oscar appearing punctually at the designated place, was told to remove his clothes. Three months before, Oscar would have viewed this as an indignity. But he was now less sensitive and soon stood in line, awaiting his turn for inspection. As his eyes fell upon some of those near him, he was amazed to note how muscular and athletic many of them looked. Glancing shyly down at his own flabby biceps and attenuated legs, he felt for the first time in his life a twinge of self-pity. Up to this moment in his career, he had never devoted a thought to physical strength.\nGetting a hint as to how important it might be in life, there were a few boys around him who were weaklings. But he could see that he was far below the average lad of his age in development. Suddenly, he felt a desire to be healthy and strong, as most of them obviously were. Although he did not appreciate it then, that desire was a turning point in his evolution into manhood.\n\nWhen his turn in line was reached, Dr. Rogers, the Physical Director, looked up at him from his desk. He was a man of medium stature, with a black mustache and hair, very quick in his gestures and direct in his manner. Oscar instinctively felt that he would stand no nonsense.\n\n\"Well, young man,\" he said, \"you have not overworked yourself at regular exercise, have you?\"\n\"No, sir, I fear I have been neglectful of myself. No one can regret it more than I. A little astonished at Oscar's maturity of speech, the physician asked him some searching questions about his ancestry, previous mode of living, and accidents and diseases. Oscar explained with complete frankness what kind of sheltered existence he had led, and Dr. Rogers displayed much interest in his story. He then put the boy through a thorough examination of his heart, lungs, kidneys, eyes, ears, and feet. Called one of his assistants and had Oscar weighed and measured. All the details were accurately recorded on a large yellow card. After glancing over the statistics, he spoke to him in a manner which Oscar never forgot:\n\n\"Harris, so far as I can find out, you're absolutely healthy.\"\"\nYou are physically sound, in fact, you have evidently inherited a frame which might make you an athlete. The trouble is that you have refused to give your body a fair chance. You have eaten unwisely, pampered yourself when you should have been out in the woods hunting or fishing, and smoked altogether too much \u2013 you should not smoke at all. If you had taken any systematic exercise whatever, you wouldn't be the poor soft thing you are today. There are boys in that line two or three years younger than you who could lay you on your back in a minute. It's a shame that a fellow with such a fine start as you have had should have become what you are now. But then there's no good in dreaming about what might have been.\n\n\"Isn't there some treatment I can follow to put myself in good condition? I'm willing to try anything.\"\n\"Yes, there is still hope. You appear to have some intelligence and realize where you stand, ambition to prove. That's a good start. The main thing for now is to stay outdoors as much as possible, stop smoking, and breathe plenty of fresh air. I'll assign you to the walking squad for a while, and that will give you a start. What is the walking squad, sir? It's made up of boys who are not in condition to go out for games like soccer and football. They take cross-country walks with one of my assistants four times a week. But, sir, I don't want to be assigned to a group of cripples. I'll work day and night to make myself strong, indeed I will. There's only one straight road to health, Harris, and that is through systematic daily exercise.\"\n\"They ought to build you up rapidly, especially if you quit smoking absolutely, eat sensible food, and give yourself plenty of sleep. Is it not possible, sir, to take some extra exercises in my own room? Certainly, if you like. I can give you a whole series. Only you must be careful not to go too fast, for, if you do, you may injure yourself permanently. It took you quite a while to get yourself into this condition, you know, and it may be some weeks before you feel the results. Everything depends on the determination and persistence which you show. It's lucky for you that you have no organic weakness. Oscar thanked Dr. Rogers and left the Gymnasium with an inflexible resolution to make himself physically strong. His decision was bolstered up by an incident which occurred that day.\"\nIn the evening at Wendell Hall, Oscar returned to his room after dinner to find his entire door missing. The Andover Way had been taken off its hinges and carried away during his absence. All of his belongings were now open to public view. Oscar looked disappointedly at the sight and wondered how he could seclude himself from the crowd. He heard a soft chuckle and turned around to see a small, stockily-built youngster named Carl grinning at him from the stairs.\n\n\"You little ruffian!\" Oscar shouted, using a tone his mother would have found decidedly unrefined. \"You brought that door back or I'll break your neck. Right away, too!\" For once, his equanimity was truly disturbed.\n\n\"Come on, four eyes!\" Carl taunted in a shrill voice. \"You couldn't hurt a flea!\"\nEnraged at this open defiance, Oscar, forgetting all discretion, rushed at his mocker to find him supported by a group of gleeful youngsters, all dancing up and down and thumbing their noses at him in derision. When he darted at Carl, they jumped at him and threw him to the floor, where he lay panting, with Carl perched triumphantly on his chest. Meanwhile, a crowd of the older men in the dormitory had gathered, drawn by the cheers of the victors, and were gazing with amusement at the sight. Oscar's spectacles had fallen off, his hair was in disorder, and his collar and necktie were askew; and the worst of it was that he could not possibly get up, no matter how frantically he struggled. He was like Gulliver captured by the Lilliputians. Even as he lay there helpless, he could not help thinking what a humiliating experience this was.\nBull Taylor would have acted similarly. Here he was, at least two years older than any of his tormentors and a good deal taller; yet he could do nothing to defend himself. He could have wept in sheer anger and desperation.\n\n\"Look here, four eyes,\" said Carl, who, despite his five feet, six inches, was a well-knit and muscular lad who played end on his club eleven. \"I'll fight you alone if these others will keep away.\"\n\n\"Hooray! Hooray! Fight! Fight! \" shouted the ecstatic bystanders, eager to promote the combat.\n\n\"Let him up, Carl,\" said Joe Watson, who happened to be in the dormitory on a visit to a friend. \"If there's going to be any fight, I'll arrange for it.\"\n\nCarl stood up, with his friends around him. Then Oscar struggled to his feet, a dejected figure with his shirt pulled out and blood on his face.\nFrom scratch over his eye, Joe Watson inquired hopeful, \"Do you want to fight Carl, Oscar?\"\n\n\"No,\" responded Oscar, seemingly bewildered. \"I guess not.\"\n\n\"Coward! Coward!\" jeered the small boys, disappointed. Oscar was about to rouse himself to action when there was a sudden calm. He looked up to see Mr. Randall approaching. Having heard the tumult, he rushed up to quell the riot.\n\nAs the members of the gathering saw him coming, a few on the edges attempted to steal off nonchalantly, as if the whole affair were none of their business. The presence of an instructor on such an occasion is always a trifle disconcerting, and no one feels exactly at ease. Mr. Randall's entrance had been decidedly dramatic.\n\"This is a fine mess, gentlemen,\" he said ironically, looking first at the little fellows and then at Oscar's sad visage. \"Go to your rooms at once. You come with me, Harris. As for you, Watson, I should think that, as a member of the Student Council, you would have enough decency not to encourage a scene like this.\" Joe, much abashed, muttered something inaudible; but there was really nothing for him to say. Making the best of an unpleasant predicament, he slunk off, accompanied by two or three other seniors who had come in his train.\n\nWhen Steve Fisher heard of Joe's part in the affair and of his ludicrous exit, he did not let him forget it for a long time.\n\nOscar obediently followed Mr. Randall back to his own room, where he changed his shirt and collar, and then, rather incoherently, told his tale.\nI'll put that gang of rascals on room probation at once, said the instructor. There were moments during the recital when he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud, but he controlled himself and tried to preserve his orthodox pedagogical severity.\n\n\"Oh, please don't, sir, please don't!\" begged Oscar appealingly. \"It was my fault really. If I had not been such a poor excuse for a man, they would have been afraid to do it. What hurts me most is that I should have let myself be beaten by a crowd of much smaller boys. And then I didn't dare to fight. I'm a noble figure, I am!\"\"Just wait for two months! I'll show them then! I'll get my revenge yet!\" said Oscar, then a new idea in his mind.\n\n\"Very well! Just as you say, Harris! I can't have any more mob scenes like this.\"\nYou can adjust the matter between us. I won't say a word. But I will ensure that the door is put back again by tomorrow morning. With this, he left Oscar to his unhappy cogitations. Oscar did not sleep much that night. But, when he rose the next day, he was a person animated by one dominating motive. Like a man afflicted with monomania, he became the most assiduous devotee of physical exercise in Andover. He found in a magazine the advertisement of a professional strong man, which read as follows:\n\n\"There is nothing else like my method, and there is nothing else that will as quickly or surely give you the big, bulging muscles and crushing strength that every red-blooded man wants. I drive heavy nails through many layers of oak and iron with my bare hands. I am able to bend heavy steel bars into carefully worked shapes.\"\nI perform feats of strength that astonish thousands with the sheer power of muscle my system has given me. For weeks, my mail was filled with circulars of bare-torsoed giants with huge knotted muscles and superhuman power, who guaranteed to transform bedridden invalids into Samsons within three months. His etchings of cathedrals were stowed away in a closet and replaced by framed photographs of great athletic heroes, like Paavo Nurmi, \"Babe\" Ruth, \"Jack\" Dempsey, and Sandow. He purchased every conceivable variety of instrument for body development, and his room became a small gymnasium. To the music of a phonograph, he took one \"daily dozen\" when he got up and another series before he went to bed. He laid out a schedule of diet, exercise, and training.\nIn which beefsteak, oatmeal, and raw eggs had a prominent place. During his vacant periods, he haunted the Gymnasium, where he swung Indian clubs and dumbbells and pestered Dr. Rogers with questions on anatomy and hygiene. Four times a week, he went reluctantly with the walking squad on hikes to Pomp's Pond or Prospect Hill, and was visibly annoyed when the pace was slow or the walk not long enough to suit him. Each night he went to bed tired but happy, and he was delighted to observe how well he was feeling. His studies did not suffer, for, as has been intimated, he was so quick at books that he needed to spend very little time on his preparation.\n\nOscar ceased to read \"highbrow\" magazines and the English classics and took up stories of the \"great open spaces\" where \"men are men\" \u2014 books by Jack London and Rex Beitiae.\nAlfred Tennyson Harris read books about the Northwestern Mounted Police, who traveled through the frozen wilderness on snowshoes in pursuit of a criminal despite afflictions of snow-blindness and scurvy. He bought tales of the prize ring, including Jack London's \"The Game\" and Conan Doyle's \"The Croxley Master\" and \"Rodney Stone.\" Harris sought out \"he-man\" stories, with displays of moral and physical courage. He dreamed of being a trapper, cowboy, or frontier desperado, unfazed by pain or rivals. Bull Taylor laughed at him.\nwhen Oscar told him some of these stories, but Oscar always ended up saying, \u201cBull, I tell you it\u2019s terrible to realize how helpless a man is unless he has a strong body. He is at the mercy of any bandit. Anyone can do anything to him they want to.\u201d\n\n\"Even a little chap like Carl Woodward, I suppose!\" chuckled Bull, who could see what was going on in Oscar\u2019s brain.\n\n\"Yes, even Carl,\" admitted Oscar, without smiling. \"But it won\u2019t always be that way with me. Just feel that triceps, Bull! Don\u2019t you think that it\u2019s getting larger?\"\n\nAnd Bull, who had been making similar inspections daily, had to admit that Oscar was profiting by his course of instruction. He even was led to take an interest in football, and on the morning of the big game with Exeter, he was just as nervous as Bull, who was one of the players.\nWhen the Andover eleven won from their rivals by a score of forty to nothing on a slippery field, Oscar almost went wild. At the celebration in the evening, he insisted on being one of those to draw the triumphal car in which Steve Fisher, Joe Watson, Bull Taylor, and the other heroes of the day were borne in glory through the Andover streets. But all this has been told elsewhere and need not be recounted again here.\n\nJust before Thanksgiving, the regular tramps of the walking squad were abandoned for the term, and Oscar formed the habit of taking long runs into the country along the woodland trails. One afternoon, he happened to be passed by the cross-country squad on one of their practice jaunts, and he fell in behind the last man, wondering how long he could keep up. To his satisfaction, he managed to do so.\nOscar followed the runners without difficulty, keeping pace with them until they reached the Gymnasium, covering at least three miles. As soon as the runners dispersed, Oscar approached Kid Wing, the Cross-Country Captain, and asked if he could join the squad. Wing, a tall, rangy fellow in his late teens who had won many prizes for distance running, looked critically at the slender, spectacled figure before him.\n\n\"What's your name?\" he demanded.\n\n\"Harris. I'm a 'prep,' in the senior class.\"\n\n\"Have you ever done any running?\"\n\n\"No, not at all. But they put me on the walking squad this afternoon, and I happened to fall behind your cross-country group. I didn't have much trouble keeping up, and I'd like to try joining the team.\"\n\"Answered Kid, noting the candidate's long legs and probable chest expansion, \"It's all right with me so far.\" But you'll need to get permission from Doc Rogers.\"\n\nAs soon as he had taken a cold bath and swum in the pool, Oscar called at Dr. Rogers's office in a small room near the Gymnasium entrance.\n\n\"So it's you again, Harris? What's the trouble now?\" The \"Doc\" had begun to wonder why this boy had such an abnormal interest in all forms of physical development.\n\n\"Sir, I should like to go out for the cross country team. The walking squad is over for the term, and I am sure I can keep up with the runners.\"\n\n\"Let me look you over a bit,\" replied the physician, who really had a kindly interest in Oscar's progress.\nHe hunted out the boy's yellow record, glanced at the date, and examined his heart and lungs with the stethoscope. Next, he brought out a tape measure and jotted down some new measurements of his chest and arms. \"Well, Harris,\" he said, after studying the comparative figures, \"you have unmistakably made a marvelous improvement \u2014 greater than I ever believed to be possible. You are actually a different lad from what you were six weeks ago. If you have your heart set on running, there's no reason why you shouldn't go out with Kid Wing and his squad. But you don't want to start in too strenuously. It's just as dangerous to overdo as it is to loaf. Remember that.\" \"I'll try to keep that in mind, sir.\" And Oscar rushed down the Gymnasium steps.\nThe happiest man on the Hill ran into Bull's room, threw his \"prep\" cap into the air, and shouted, \"Hooray, Bull, I'm on the cross-country squad. It's come at last.\"\n\n\"I don't see that that's anything to make such a big noise about,\" Bull replied calmly. \"I suppose you're glad, and all that, but I don't see exactly why. It's going to be a lot of hard plugging, without much reward. Those fellows have to work, you know.\"\n\n\"That's just what I'm after, Bull,\" exclaimed Oscar, in a mood which would have astonished his mother. \"I want hard work, rigorous, grueling, exhausting toil! It\u2019s wonderful.\"\n\n\"All right! All right!\" muttered Bull, who regarded such exuberance with cynicism. \"Only don\u2019t blame me when they have to carry you in from Martin\u2019s Pond.\"\n\n\"They won't have a chance, Bull,\" Oscar replied confidently.\nI. And then he told Bull with some pride about his afternoon's adventure. On the next afternoon when the squad was ready to start, Oscar reported to Kid Wing, who simply said, \"Good, I'm glad you're here. Now you must see how long you can stand the pace. Just follow the crowd, but fall out if the distance seems too long for you. You're only beginning, you know, and it won't do to get tuckered out the first day. It's no disgrace to walk in.\" Oscar discreetly made no reply, but he inwardly resolved that he would run until he dropped. As the squad started out, with Larry Spear, the assistant track coach at the head, Oscar fell into line, clad only in a sweater and running trunks, although the air was crisp and cold. In long, even strides they took a route out Salem Street, then\nover a fence and a stone wall into a woodland. The Andover Way. Path. Soon, Oscar could feel himself breathing hard, but his legs continued to move rhythmically with the others. There came a fearful moment when it seemed as if he could go no farther; but he summoned up his will-power and kept on, until there came to him, as if by some magic gift, that mysterious power called \u201csecond wind,\u201d and his courage revived. As they swung into a hard road again, he drew nearer to the front, noticing with some satisfaction that two or three of the men who had led at first were now fatigued. Soon the Memorial Tower came in sight, and Larry Spear accelerated the pace, making a sprint for home. Oscar followed him and Kid Wing, passing several others as he ran, and when they arrived at the Gymnasium porch, there were only...\nLarry, Kid Wing, and Barnes, one mile-runner on the track team, were three ahead of him. As he reached the steps, Larry and Kid turned to see who were next among the survivors.\n\n\"Great Scott!\" puffed Larry, as he saw Oscar's face. \"Here's a new man. Who are you, anyhow?\"\n\n\"I'm Harris. Just joined the squad.\"\n\n\"Well, that was a pretty hot pace for a greenhorn. I guess you've got the stuff in you, all right. Come and talk with me some time about running.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir. I will,\" replied Oscar between deep breaths.\n\n\"Aren't you tired?\" inquired Kid Wing.\n\n\"Not yet,\" answered Oscar. \"I could go a little longer, I think.\"\n\n\"We'll have to investigate you a little, Harris,\" went on Kid. \"Can't you drop around to my room in Phillips tonight for a talk? I'd like to pry into your past.\"\n\"Sure, I'll come,\" replied Oscar, too happy to say more. As he shivered under the piercing needles of the icy shower a few minutes later, he wanted to burst into song. He was positive now that he could run. With the assurance that comes ultimately to every genuine athlete, he knew that he could be successful on the track, assuming he could develop his physique and secure the proper training. He reveled in the wholesome joy which is likely to animate any man who sees his cherished dreams about to be realized.\n\nKid Wing lived, as he said, in Phillips Hall, one of the oldest structures on the Hill, dating back to the opening of the nineteenth century. In this dormitory and its companion building, Bartlet Hall, most of the leaders of the school had their quarters. On its grassy terrace, \"The Andover Way\" (back to the opening of the nineteenth century).\nSeniors exercised their treasured privilege of outdoor smoking, and here, in the springtime, could be found those little groups of talkative idlers which, in any school, undertake to settle all the urgent problems of local and national affairs. Phillips Hall was, in a sense, a rallying point for the older undergraduates, and here most of the schemes for student government were hatched. Our old friend, Hal Manning, Managing Editor of the Phillipian, had a room directly across from Kid Wing's, on the third floor. They were centrally located, for the Auditorium was only a few feet away, and the Main Building was just beyond that. For economy of effort and time, a room in Phillips or Bartlet Halls was highly desirable. \"Some day,\" Kid used to say to Hal Manning, \"they'll run tunnels from Phillips to George Washington Hall and the Main Building.\"\n\"and we won't have to go out into the air except to eat. Then life here will be worth it.\" Hal commented, \"this place will be a home for aged men, and I don't want anything to do with it.\" In Kid's room that evening, Oscar gazed not without envy at the long array of silver cups on the mantelpiece. \"I'd give my front teeth to be able to win races the way you do!\" he said, after taking a comfortable seat overlooking the main campus, and the lights of the houses in the distance. \"It's mostly a matter of practice. You have a fairly good build, and, so far as I can see, you\u2019re honestly ambitious. What you\u2019ve got to do now is ask Larry Spear, the coach, to tell you how to run so that you can utilize every ounce of strength. That\u2019s the only way of developing it.\"\n\"Had you done any racing before you came here?\", \"Had I? I hadn't done anything else! I come from a little village in central New York, \u2013 Waterville, they call it, \u2013 and I used to live near a park. Every afternoon as soon as school closed, some of us kids would have races around the outside of that park. I'll bet I've run around it ten thousand times. I can remember plugging and plugging until it seemed as if my lungs would cave in, but somehow I learned to run. Luckily, I had a stride that was naturally fairly good, and I didn't pick up any very bad habits.\" \"Yes, I must have been on the school track team in your village,\" said Oscar, with a query in his tone. \"Yes, I must have been,\" answered Kid reminiscently. \"Should you like to hear about my first race on a real track?\"\nI replied eagerly, \"I didn't win, you know, not at all! How was that? Well, here goes for the yarn! I'm from Waterville, a small village off the main line. There had never been a track meet there. But I was in high school with a group of enterprising rascals who were always trying to start something new. One of us went to a college track meet and came back to tell the rest of us about it. So we wrote immediately to some schools in nearby towns \u2013 Clinton and Clayville \u2013 and convinced them to agree to join us. We had an abandoned half-mile dirt track in Waterville, a survival of the days when trotting races were popular, and it was the logical place for the meet.\" A lot of the nervy youngsters, 4 Leaky,\nTerry, Harry Yale, Charlie Coggeshall, and Stew Mayer went around among local merchants asking them to donate prizes. We accumulated quite a collection of lamps, knives, and other such articles. When our committee met, we agreed that each one of us should have the privilege of choosing the prize for the event in which he was going to take part. I was out for the 220-yard dash, and, seeing a beautiful collapsible umbrella among our gifts, I selected that as the prize for my event. It was put up in one of the store windows with a big sign on it, \"First Prize, 220-yard dash.\" I used to stop to look at it every morning on my way to school and could hardly wait till it would be mine. It never entered my head that I could possibly lose.\n\"The big meet day arrived, and fellows from Clinton and Clayville came in barges to Waterville, waving pennants and tooting horns. A tremendous crowd gathered at the race-track, as most townspeople were there. We took in a lot of money at the gate. When I came out for the 220, I saw a lanky boy with 'Clinton' in red letters across his shirt, and he looked as if he could go like greased lightning. After one glance, I knew I should lose the umbrella if I didn't take precautions. The starter, Ernie Camp, was one of my closest pals, and I called him aside to discuss the situation. We agreed on a plan, which, as I see it now, was absolutely shameless; but you see we hadn't arrived at any moral sense in such matters as races. Our theory was, 'Anything to win.'\"\nAccording to the scheme, the seven or eight of us who were in the 220 lined up. As soon as we had knelt down for the start, off I went down the track. The others thought that I would be called back, but when I had gone at least ten yards, Ernie Camp, as he had promised, shot off the revolver. The Clinton fellow and the others must have been amazed, but nevertheless they started off, with me at least fifteen yards ahead. I was feeling fine, legging it along as fast as I could go, and I could see the spectators in the stands waving handkerchiefs and banners. The umbrella was surely mine!\n\nAnd then, about fifty yards from the finish, I noticed somebody at my side, and there was that long-legged Clinton fellow going by me almost without any effort. I tried to sprint, but I couldn't keep up with him.\nI. was all in. Pretty soon another one went by, and before I reached the tape, they had all beaten me, and I came in last. I didn't hear the end of that affair for weeks! Every time it rained, someone would want to borrow my collapsible umbrella. When I look back on it now, I realize that it was a disgraceful trick, but it was all so funny and the result was so peculiar that I can't help laughing. Our ethical standards weren't very noble, I guess! But that race did do one thing, \u2014 it taught me that I could never expect to be a sprinter, and ever since I've concentrated on the longer distances.\n\n\"Do you think I can ever win my letter, Kid?\" asked Oscar, with a wistful note in his voice.\n\n\"You see, I've had no experience at all. I'm just the opposite of you; I don't believe I ever ran a mile in my life before I came here.\"\n\"That's queer, too,\" was Kid's answer. \"For the great gods built you to be a runner, Oscar. Here you are with long legs, a broad chest, and a slender waist\u2014what more do you want? You have some pluck or you wouldn't have tried to keep up with the cross-country squad. All you need now is training and experience. I don't want to raise any false hopes, but you have a mighty good chance of wearing an \u2018A\u2019 on your jersey next spring.\"\n\nThis was sufficient encouragement for Oscar, who left Kid's room as proud as if he had just been named as ambassador to England. He knew that he had persistence enough to keep going; it was now mainly a question of how much physical endowment he could rely on. Happily, he was beginning to reap the reward of his hard and regular bodily exercise. During the last few days.\nDuring the term, as final examinations were being held, all competitive sports were discontinued, and athletes had a well-deserved rest, especially track men, who were eager for some unoccupied afternoons. However, Oscar did not relax for a single afternoon. With a steadiness and vigor that astonished those who saw what he was doing, he spent his vacant periods in exercise. When several inches of snow covered the ground, making the roads too heavy for travel, he had recourse to the indoor track. He also continued his efforts to enlarge his muscles, using dumbbells and parallel bars effectively. By the close of the term, he had added ten pounds to his weight and two inches to his chest expansion; and he bounded out of bed each morning feeling like a prince, as if the world belonged to him.\nOn the last evening of the fall term, after an intimate chat with Kid Wing, Oscar returned to Wendell Hall around nine. It was a glorious night. Strolling slowly across the campus from Phillips Hall, Oscar caught glimpses of twinkling lights from a hundred windows through the bare branches of the ghostly elms. The light snow had obliterated the harsher features of the landscape, and the full moon, throwing a soft glow over hedges and brick walls, made it appear uniformly beautiful. The slender shaft of the Memorial Tower stood out against the stars, the top looking incredibly graceful. For a moment, Oscar lingered, marveling at the magic of the spectacle, which to him was finer than any he could remember.\nIn Florence or Granada, Oscar felt inspired. To him, as to young Wordsworth:\n\nTHE ANDOVER WAY\n\"The whole earth\nThe beauty wore of promise; that which sets\nThe budding rose above the rose full blown.\"\n\nIn this spirit of exaltation, Oscar reached Wenhall Hall, climbed the stairs to his room, and fumbled for his key, only to find that the door knob was covered with some sticky and obnoxious substance\u2014probably molasses. As he swore softly under his breath, Oscar heard muffled noises from a dark corner and realized that his ancient enemies, the smaller boys, were hidden there, laughing at his discomfiture.\n\nThis time, however, there was no hesitation. With a rush, he darted into the shadows, seized two of the culprits, one of whom proved to be\nCarl, the irrepressible one, dragged them out and knocked their heads together. Two others attacked him from another concealed place, but Oscar stood upright and fought them all off, finally hurling them from him with no uncertain vigor. \"Help! Help!\" cried Carl, writhing in pain as Oscar twisted his arm. Boys emerged one by one from nearby rooms; others rushed up-stairs from the corridor below, until nearly everybody in the dormitory had assembled to watch the fun. The crowd lustily goaded on the combatants. \"Go to it, Oscar!\" shouted Bull Taylor, overjoyed to see his friend holding his own against such adverse odds. \"Put the young shrimps out of business for good. Now's the time to do it!\" Vainly the two smaller lads, who were more timid, tried to defend themselves.\namazed more than anybody at Oscar's sudden transformation, he tried to escape. Holding them in an iron grip, he made them beg for mercy whiningly. And just at this critical point in the proceedings, \"Weary\" Randall appeared, dressed in a dressing-gown and in no placid mood. The uproar had been tremendous, and he was quite prepared to burst in upon the assembly like an avenging deity. But, when he saw the spectacle before him, his anger cooled and he could not help smiling. Oscar, with his glasses over one ear and his hair looking like a deserted bird's nest, was posed in the middle of the circle in the attitude of the Colossus of Rhodes, with a small boy held tightly by the scruff of the neck in each hand, both shrieking madly, \"I give in, Oscar! I give in! Let me go! I won't bother you any more, Oscar!\" Beyond.\nAny doubt, Oscar was complete master of the situation. Mr. Randall was so deeply absorbed in the combat that he did not observe the sensation his appearance was making. One by one shadowy figures were sneaking away, until only Oscar and his assailants remained - Oscar, who was so much excited that he was completely oblivious to everything around him, and the small lads who could not possibly retreat. At last Oscar's eyes fell on Mr. Randall, and he slowly relaxed his clutch. The youngsters shook themselves, and Oscar awkwardly tried to smooth his hair and adjust his collar. Then he saw the smile on Mr. Randall's countenance, and the semblance of a grin appeared on his own face.\n\n\"Well, Harris, you're getting to be a genuine bruiser, aren't you?\" said Mr. Randall, in a tone which began by being severe but ended in a kindly manner.\n\"And you're here, too, Woodward! Just as it was earlier in the fall. What's the matter with you, Carl? Are you trying to pick a fight with Harris the way you did in September? \"No, I guess not, sir,\" responded Carl, who was evidently much chagrined at his position. \"May I go down and change my clothes, sir? \"You'd better ask Oscar, Carl,\" was the instructor's answer. \"He seems to be in command just now.\" Carl looked at Mr. Randall to find out whether the latter was in earnest, but he could discern no signs of relenting. Finally, in a rather forced and feeble voice, he turned to Oscar, saying, \"May I go now, Oscar? \"Yes, go,\" replied Oscar, disposed to be lenient. \"But don't let this kind of thing occur again.\"'\nI. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. You and Pete clean off my door-knob.\nII. Can't we wait a few minutes until we get fixed up? inquired Pete.\nIII. \"Now/ I said! Now!\" And the two boys almost ran for water and soap.\nIV. When they had completed this cleansing job to Oscar's satisfaction, the house master dismissed them with a reprimand, and then addressed Oscar.\nV. Well, Harris, you've won your own victory, and I'm glad of it. Now you must remember not to overdo the thing. You've shown these little chaps that they can't make a fool of you. It's your business now to keep from becoming a bully. Furthermore, I'm not going to allow Wendell Hall to become the stage for any more such rough-houses. I've helped you a little; now you pitch in and help me. Will you do that?\nVI. I certainly will, sir, answered Oscar.\nCHAPTER V\nTHE HERO LEARNS BY EXPERIENCE\n\nLike most new men at Andover, Oscar was completely ignorant of the secret societies there. It wasn't until several weeks later that he became aware of their significant role in the academy's life. Before she went away, his mother had given him a jeweled pin with the mysterious letters \"K.P.N.\" and explained that she had found this among Mr. Harris's possessions after his death.\n\n\"I don't know what these letters mean,\" she continued, \"but it was your father's when he was a boy at Andover. You ought to have it. I remember that he was very careful of it and once told me that it indicated membership in some sort of club. You had better put it away in your jewel case. It may come in handy later.\"\nIt was rather extraordinary that Oscar, at this particular stage of his career, did not create a sensation by wearing this ornament conspicuously on his coat lapel. He fortunately had enough sense to lock it up and forget about it. The average \"prep\" is unlikely to hear much society gossip. And Oscar, during his early weeks at school, kept very much to himself. He did discover that some gloomy and impressive-looking structures, into which no one could ever be seen entering, were society houses. But his curiosity did not lead him to make further inquiries. Once he walked past the K.P.N. house, \u2013 an imposing brick building, sealed up like a tomb, with a porch supported by tall white pillars, \u2013 and speculated idly as to what it must be like inside. But there were other matters which, by that time, seemed to him to be more important.\nWhen Oscar was admitted to Andover, the news spread like village gossip, and there were always some boisterous blades ready to take advantage of his innocence. On an evening in late November, two of the school humorists, Dusty Sandford and Matt White, dressed in formal attire and knocked at Oscar's door. When invited to enter, they stepped in with ostentatious ceremony. As a host, Oscar was quite in his element.\n\"element, and when the initial embarrassment had disappeared, he made his visitors feel very much at home, even proposing to brew them some tea. At last, when the conversation languished for a moment, Dusty opened the way to real business. \"Harris,\" he began solemnly, \"you have doubtless been wondering why we are here. My name is Sandford, and this gentleman with me is Mr. Matthew W. White, a member of the Society of Mayflower Descendants. We happen to be representatives of one of the secret organizations here in Andover, \u2014 Sigma Eta Mu, \u2014 probably the oldest fraternal group in any school in this country. We take in, as you may readily believe, only men who have had some experience in the world. To put it bluntly, Harris, we rather pride ourselves on our exclusiveness. We never, for instance, should dream of taking a man simply because he is wealthy or influential.\"\"\n\"because he is an athlete or a team manager. Our members must have blue blood in their veins and know how to conduct themselves among the best people.\n\n\"That sounds interesting,\" commented Oscar, a little flattered and yet somewhat suspicious. Dusty was a very persuasive talker.\n\n\"We have looked up your ancestry somewhat, and we have been studying your manners and dress as you appear on the campus. We are convinced that we should be making no mistake in asking you to join our select group; and therefore, we have the honor of extending to you a formal invitation to become a member of Sigma Eta Mu.\"\n\n\"Thank you very much, Mr. Sandford. I appreciate your courtesy. Must I give you my decision right away?\"\n\n\"Decision!\" ejaculated Dusty, producing an excellent imitation of a kind-hearted friend very eagerly.\"\n\"much insulted. \"No Andover man has ever declined an invitation to our organization! It is inconceivable that you should refuse such a distinction! Don't you realize that, under our constitution, there can be only thirteen members a year from the student body! Why, there are fathers who would give thousands of dollars to have their sons make Sigma Eta Mu!\"\"So horrified did the two callers look at the mere suggestion of a possible refusal that Oscar was disinclined to argument and gave his assent without any further delay. Sandford then asked him to write his check for fifty dollars, as an initiation fee, and, when Oscar opened his mouth to protest, he was confronted with such intense pressure that he relented.\"\nThe two men, Dusty and Matt, gave stern glances at you. Matt began, \"You will receive a jeweled pin in return for this lucre after the initiation is completed. We do not approve of delays in matters of this kind. Therefore, tomorrow evening at seven o'clock, after consuming only a glass of milk for dinner, you will take your position in a standing posture against the burial vault in Spring Grove Cemetery, facing towards the setting sun. There you will be examined by the Great Mogul, who will give you further instructions. A suitable costume will be brought to you at noon tomorrow. Farewell, victim. Farewell! And speak to no one regarding this, under penalty of dire punishment!\"\n\nAfter the two ringleaders made impressive bows and departed, Oscar sat a long time in deep thought.\nHe was uninformed about fraternities and wanted to consult Bull Taylor, but Matt's final warning kept ringing in his ears. There were moments when he was so suspicious that he resolved not to proceed farther, but then came the painful doubt that he might be foolishly rejecting a significant honor. In the end, he resolved to go through with the initiation, no matter what resulted. At half-past six that evening, Oscar sneaked out of his room, little aware that every eye in the dormitory was upon him as he made his way across the fields and into the woods, at a point where a well-worn path led to the cemetery and Pomp's Pond. He was indeed garbed in a strange manner.\nA man wore a large brown derby hat and an old black cutaway coat, his thin legs clad in linen knickerbockers. He didn't walk, but jogged instead, holding the hat in hand to keep it from obstructing his vision. He reached the designated spot, facing the glowing western sky.\n\nNight descended upon the countryside. In the distance, Oscar heard the bells ringing.\nMemorial Tower faintly chiming quarter-hour, notes sounding mournfully in quiet air. Tombstones around him accentuated gloom in his heart, none of us fond of graveyards, nobody choosing one for summer cottage. Shadows deepened. Monotonous song of tree-toads became low humming, owl hooted in branches of oak near by. Oscar started at sudden noise, only to discover wind moving among dead leaves over his head. And then, when it seemed as if he had been waiting for eternity, and his legs were commencing to feel prickly, a tall figure in white towered above him.\n\nThe Andover Way\nsilent and motionless, dreadful! From which direction it had arrived, Oscar could not tell; but there it was, with one long arm stretched towards the heavens. A chill struck at Oscar\u2019s heart. He was as brave as anybody, but the long, anxious period of suspense and the chilly night air had worn on his nerves. His knees trembling and his teeth chattering, he listened to hear what might be said. But the ghostly form stood speechless! It merely turned, lowered its arm slightly, and pointed; then it gestured slowly, like the spirit of Hamlet\u2019s father, indicating that Oscar should follow. As it moved off majestically through the shadows, he was conscious of other spectral shapes around him, and could occasionally catch a glint of white through the trees. It was all very alarming, especially to one who, like Oscar, had just been reading Hamlet in his English class.\n\"I could quote: \"I could tell a tale whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair stand up on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. Oscar, feeling his way gingerly through the darkness in the wake of his taciturn guide, moved slowly along until he reached what he recognized as the highway on the western side of the cemetery. Here the sheeted figure motioned him peremptorily to halt, and two by no means gentle hands tied a bandage over his eyes - so tightly that, even if it had been broad daylight, he could have seen nothing. Then he was hurried along, through bushes and briars and over stone walls, for what seemed to him miles and miles.\"\nLet him rest? At last, after a steep descent, they paused, and an ominous silence fell as Oscar wondered where he was.\n\n\"You are now poised on the edge of a precipice overhanging a lake, which lies fifty feet below,\" said a strident voice. \"You are to jump and then swim for shore \u2014 if by chance you escape being mangled on the rocks at the base of the cliff. This is the supreme test of your courage and vitality. If you emerge alive, even though badly hurt, you will be deemed worthy of becoming a member of the ancient order of Sigma Eta Mu.\"\n\nUnder cover of darkness, Oscar smiled to himself. There were limits even to his credulity, and this kind of stuff seemed childish to him. He thought the situation out deliberately and resolved that he would make no such leap as was proposed.\n\"The leader addressed Oscar, \"Now, unhappy victim, when I count three, spring with all your strength to avoid the jagged stones on the shore below and reach the deep water in safety. Are you ready? One! Two! Three!\" Oscar bent his knees and jumped, but not forward as expected. Instead, he jumped backwards. The consequences were dramatic. He had been standing on the bank of the Shawsheen River, facing away from the stream, and his tormentors had supposed he would give a prodigious leap and fall to the earth. Instead, Oscar jumped backwards.\"\nthinking to be shrewd had done exactly the wrong thing. He had thrown himself backwards into the river, at a point where it was well over his head. For a few seconds the crowd stood as if paralyzed. Then Oscar reappeared, cried desperately, \u201cHelp! Help! \u201d and sank again.\n\nEverybody was aroused at last. Sheets were discarded, gallant rescuers leaped wildly into the stream, and there were frenzied shouts of \u201cHere he is! \u201d \u201cNo, he\u2019s gone down again! \u201d and \u201cDive for him, Matt.\u201d The water seemed to be alive with wriggling, twisting human beings. At last one of them emerged on the bank, his hands tenaciously twined in Oscar\u2019s hair. The half-unconscious boy was dragged higher up, and there ensued some furious efforts at resuscitation, which were broken off by groans from the initiate.\n\"Leave me alone. I'm all right. Let me up, you fools! I can swim, but I couldn't get out when you kept knocking me under, trying to save my life.\" Oscar gradually rid himself of the liquid he had involuntarily swallowed and finally stood up, looking very damp and dismal, but still alive.\n\n\"Why did you jump that way, you poor fish?\" one of the committee indignantly inquired.\n\n\"You've ruined the show!\"\n\n\"What do you mean \u2014 fish?\" asked Oscar, in no mild humor, having never heard this expressive slang phrase. \"I didn't choose to go into the water, did I?\"\n\n\"Well, you leaped into it, didn't you?\"\n\n\"Yes, but I only did it to fool you,\" was Oscar's logical reply.\n\n\"And you came mighty near having a watery grave, young man. And the school would have had to bury you and put flowers on your coffin.\"\n\"And you aren't worth it,\" Oscar was told. \"What'll I do now?\" he inquired wearily. \"Have I got to climb another cliff?\"\n\n\"Don't be sarcastic, victim. You'd better run back to your dormitory. This performance is herewith concluded.\"\n\n\"But I don't know the road,\" Oscar pleaded. It was a sensible remark, for the night was now so black that no landmark could be picked out in any direction. It was absolutely impossible to discern any path.\n\n\"You just trail after me,\" spoke up a voice which Oscar recognized as Hal Manning's. \"I'll show you if you will try to keep up.\"\n\nThey set off, dripping water at every step. It was a miserable parade, for it was chilly in the night air and no one felt like breaking into song. After stumbling twenty times over fallen logs and scratching his legs and face on briars, Oscar reached Wendell Hall. He had been cautioned.\nTo enter quietly, in the hope that Mr. Randall hadn't made his customary round of the rooms, Oscar luckily found him out for dinner. In his study, Oscar quickly disrobed, took a steaming bath, and went to bed, only to be haunted by spectral shapes and sepulchral voices.\n\nOn the following morning, after the church service was over, Oscar was glancing through the infinite pages of the Sunday paper when there were three heavy knocks on his door. In tramped Dusty and Matt, accompanied by Hal Manning. They stood in silence before him for several minutes. Then Dusty, having made the desired impression, stepped forward and said, \u201cHarris, you have not been obedient to the commands of the Grand Mogul. You have brought\u201d\nA man ridiculed our sacred ritual with an unseemly spirit of levity. However, it has been decided by the Supreme Council in solemn conclave that you, Oscar, must be made a regular member of Sigma Eta Mu. I take pleasure in decorating you, in the presence of these witnesses, with the insignia of our fraternity. Saying these words, he pinned on the lapel of Oscar's coat a tin emblem representing a donkey's head. Then he stepped off to study the effect.\n\n\"And now, Brother Big Fatima,\" he continued, turning to Hal, whose face was suspiciously crimson, \"will you whisper in the ear of the novice the motto of our order?\"\n\nManning bowed low, saluted, and said, \"Brother Little Fatima, I obey.\" Then, approaching Oscar, he whispered in a low but perfectly audible tone, \"Brother Lucky Strike, our motto.\"\nNEVER to be spoken above a whisper, is Sigma Eta Mu \u2014 Snatch Easy Money! With this disclosure, Manning and his companions bent low in mock reverence and withdrew from the room before Oscar had time to regain his senses. He had, of course, realized for some time that he had been the victim of a hoax, and he was glad that the program was over. The tale of the previous evening's adventures was certain to leak out sooner or later, and ultimately it reached the ears of the Head. It is amazing how rapidly a gossip of this kind travels in a school community. That gentleman was sorely tempted to place the matter in the hands of the Student Council; but, when he heard all the details, he was convinced that the conspirators had been sufficiently punished by their wetting, and he contented himself.\nOscar received word that his fifty dollars needed to be refunded. Oscar was quiet about the situation, considering it another phase of his education. He vowed then and there never to accept without question what a stranger told him again. There was also an incidental consequence, which in later years Oscar looked back on as one of the significant events of his life.\n\nOscar found none of his classes dull, but he enjoyed most the one conducted by Professor Foster \u2013 affectionately known to the boys as \"Charlie.\" He was a man of wide experience and broad culture, who brought to bear upon his subject the scholarship of a lifetime of reading and travel. He had a keen wit and a robust humor \u2013 qualities which were generously displayed in his class.\nHe loved to jest about his portliness and often referred to his \"rotund personality\" and the fact that he was a \"well-rounded\" man. It was said of him by the alumni that his Senior Latin course was a liberal education. Irreproachable in dress and manners, he treated his students as if they were his equals as gentlemen, and, in doing so, drew from them their very best efforts. For him, Oscar had an admiration not far from idolatry, but, in characteristic Andover fashion, the boy repressed his feelings, merely sitting attentive through the recitations. He had no idea that Professor Foster knew him at all outside the Pearson Hall classroom until one day that teacher, calling him to the desk after the hour, invited him to dinner on the following evening. Oscar, made a little timid by his earlier experiences, accepted.\nWhen Oscar first came to Andover, he would have entered Professor Foster's home with the air of a worldly man, familiar with all the correct usages of society. But now, he was a little less sure of himself and seemed diffident and awkward at first. However, he found Mrs. Foster gracious and Professor Foster entertaining, and he couldn't help regaining his old confidence. It wasn't long before he was chatting easily about paintings he had seen in Paris galleries and describing the serrated crags of Montserrat. The Fosters had traveled everywhere and seen everything, and they paid Oscar the flattering compliment of assuming he was one of them.\nThem appreciating works of art in their house, some distance from the academy buildings. House furnished with exquisite things, many bought in Europe. Oscar found pleasure in picking out some with especial appeal. For a time, he forgot athletic aspirations. Could almost believe no longer a schoolboy, but friend among friends.\n\nAfter dinner making Oscar feel returned Paris delicacies, Professor Foster took Oscar library, room lined bookshelves ceiling, offered cigarette, potential mile-runner regretfully declined, and motioned great leather-covered chair, sank until felt disappearing view. Then,\nThe teacher, lighting a cigar and inhaling its fragrant aroma, said, \"Well, my boy, you've had some rather painful experiences, haven't you?\"\n\n\"Oh, nothing to speak of, sir,\" answered Oscar.\n\n\"It's good for you, I guess, to learn what the world is like. I had led what people call a 'sheltered existence' until I came here. Sooner or later I should have had to confront the real thing, and I'm rather glad that I've had some of the conceit and ignorance knocked out of me. But I didn't dream that anybody on the faculty had heard of my troubles.\"\n\n\"There's very little that escapes our Argus-eyed teachers. We can't say anything about what we see or hear, but we know a great deal more than you fellows imagine. I've been told about your initiation, for instance, and the ducking.\"\n\"You enjoyed yourself at their expense. That couldn't have been such a bad joke in retrospect. I hope the faculty won't punish those fellows, sir. They meant no harm, and the whole affair was beneficial for me. One of them even returned the fifty-dollar check I had given him yesterday. That was a commendable act. The Professor listened thoughtfully to what Oscar was saying. He wanted to be careful with his reply. No, you don't need to worry about that. They'll get away with it this time, even though they may be apprehensive. However, I do want to talk to you about something else. You've been raised to know a lot about art, architecture, and music, and to appreciate beauty.\"\nDon't abandon your individuality just because a crowd of average young Americans make fun of you. The trouble with most schools in this country is that there is a tendency for students to develop in the same way, growing to be alike in their tastes, habits, and desires. I've been watching you since you entered my class, and there's fine stuff in you if only you refuse to let yourself become standardized. That's the curse of our time \u2013 this eagerness to turn out products like Ford cars, all alike, with interchangeable parts. I want you to be a Cadillac or a Pierce Arrow, different from the others and better than they are. Of course, you'll have to conform in clothes and language to those with whom you associate every day; but don't let your soul be turned into a mold. Keep your individuality.\nProfessor Foster, you've said what I've thought a hundred times since I reached this place. It's wonderful here. There are beautiful buildings and able teachers and everything a fellow can ask for. The only fear I have is that I may forget some of the things I used to know. Just now I'm interested in developing my body and becoming an athlete, and I'm going to be a runner if it can possibly be done. But that isn't all there is to life. When I'm out here with Mrs. Foster and you, I am sure that it is right to like cathedrals and listen to grand opera. And then I get back and, when I hear some of the fellows in the 'dorm' talk contemptuously about 'highbrows,' I feel foolish.\n\nIt's the same in all schools, Harris. As a matter of fact, things are better here at Andover than others.\nIn any other place I know, the trouble is that we teachers have to plan courses for the average man, and the exceptional fellow has to adjust for himself. But you have too much character to let yourself be overshadowed by mediocrity, I'm sure. And you can become one of the boys, and win prizes in running, without suppressing your true self. Whenever you feel despondent about it all, come out to see me and we'll discuss it.\n\nThere was much other talk before this memorable evening was over. When Oscar rose to say \"Goodnight!\", he felt that he had never spent a more wholesome or stimulating two hours. As he walked back to Wendell Hall across the fields, the world looked rosier than it had appeared at any time since he had been left in. (Oscar LEARNS BY EXPERIENCE, p. 133)\nAndover. When he reached his room, he looked for a moment at a huge photograph of Jack Dempsey, the boxer, which had replaced an engraving of Toledo Cathedral between his windows. Then, with an ejaculation of impatience, he tore it down from the wall, hunted in his closet for the discarded cathedral, and, when he had found it, hung it up carefully in its original position. \"That's better,\" he said, with a sigh of relief, \"and it's a good deal more like me!\" Such is the influence which one personality can unconsciously exert upon another. \"Charlie\" Foster does not know to this day how much comfort and inspiration he brought to one half-discouraged Andover senior.\n\nChapter VI\nTHE HERO BECOMES A GOOD SAMARITAN\nWith all his \"queerness\" and gullibility, the heir to the Harris fortunes was something of a good-natured eccentric.\nA judge of men, he had wandered into many strange corners of continental cities and had met various Russians, Albanians, and Turks. He was not astonished by anything or anyone. Furthermore, he was morally and mentally mature. With him, for example, there was no temptation to go through the process colloquially known as \"sowing wild oats.\" When he saw occasionally at Andover representatives of the so-called \"sporting classes\" trying desperately to \"see life,\" he was neither alarmed nor offended, because he was not unfamiliar with their experiments in vice. The students who sat daringly on the fire-escape smoking cigarettes in defiance of school regulations aroused in him nothing but pity for their childishness. Once, when some would-be \"bad men\" tried to lure him into a game of bridge, thinking that he would prove an easy mark, he successfully declined their invitation.\nA Good Samaritan, profitable prey, he yielded and showed such mastery of the game that they did not ask him again. As it happened, bridge was a pastime which he had learned from his mother and her friends, and although he did not care for gambling, he played with quickness and skill.\n\nOscar's pride was vulnerable only in matters with which he was unfamiliar. He was like a Bowery urchin on a farm, unable to milk cows or saddle horses and easily deceived by the dullest rustic. With the theatre, the ballet, and the revue, Oscar had been familiar ever since he had put on long trousers, and he could derive no thrill from going to a burlesque show or wandering around the back alleys of Puritanical Boston. Had he not prowled alone through Montmartre at midnight and explored the mysteries of the Quartier Latin?\nIn many respects, Professor Foster had determined that Oscar was much more civilized than the seniors with whom he was associated. They often seemed to him like a tribe of barbarians. They displayed little interest, as far as he could discover, in good music, and the majority stubbornly resisted Dr. Schleiermacher's patient attempts to teach them to discriminate between the Fifth Symphony and \"Yes, we have no bananas!\". Only a few cared about painting or sculpture. With literature, it was a trifle different because no one could be \"exposed,\" so to speak, to plays like Hamlet and lyrics like \"Tears, Idle Tears,\" without getting some conception of what great poetry is like. But the average boy had not progressed in his literary tastes much beyond this.\nOscar's delight in church architecture and stained-glass windows and Chopin preludes would have elicited scorn and laughter from his classmates if he had revealed it. They preferred sports in all forms, particularly outdoor games. Their chosen mental recreation was the movies, and their stock diversion in their idle hours was the so-called humorous paper, represented by Judge and College Comics. Oscar, with the sensitivity and cunning of youth, perceived the desirability of concealing his artistic tastes. He did not, it is true, adopt the banal avocations of some of his companions. But by Christmas, in dress and bearing, he appeared normal.\nA healthy American boy, with a horror of being considered different, found inspiration in Bull Taylor. Day after day, with his slow-moving mind, he persisted in matters that held little interest for him, solely because he was pursuing an education. As they grew closer, Oscar saw he could easily help Bull and formed the habit of visiting his room in the evening to assist him with Geometry and Latin. Bull was the left tackle on the football team, and it was crucial for the eleven that he remained eligible for the Andover-Exeter game. Despite few knowing about it, Oscar's consistent coaching maintained Bull's eligibility.\nwhich he performed prodigious feats of skill, especially in breaking holes through which Steve Fisher and the other backs could make long gains. During the celebration of the great victory, everybody, including the Head himself, praised Bull for his brilliant showing; but Bull did not fail to remember that he could never have played on that team if it had not been for Oscar's almost continuous prodding of his pupil's sluggish mentality.\n\n\"Say, Oscar, how am I to thank you?\" he asked in an embarrassed way, on the Sunday morning after the contest, as the two sat surrounded by newspapers describing the game.\n\n\"Here you've done most of the hard labor, and I get all the credit. I'll swear that it's a tougher job making me pass 'Charlie' Foster's Virgil than you think.\"\nIt is about running for a touchdown through a broken field. Look at this headline, \u2018Fisher and Taylor Destroy Exeter\u2019s Defense.\u2019 Someone should produce the truth, \u2018Harris drags Taylor through Geometry.\u2019 That would be accurate.\n\n\"Oh, cut it out!\" answered Oscar, who by this date had acquired some slang which would have alarmed his precise mother. \"Going over the stuff with you helped me, too. I had to do it myself, didn't I? You aren't a bonehead, anyway. It's just that books come hard to you, that's all.\"\n\n\"You're the real thing in friends, and I'm for you, whatever you do. I only hope that I get a chance some day to do you a favor.\"\n\n\"You will, Bull. Forty years from now, when you're a member of Morgan and Company and are putting through a billion dollar airplane merger,\"\nI'll visit you and borrow carfare. If that time ever comes, you'll get whatever you want from me, as long as I have it. In planning for his Christmas vacation, Oscar followed his mother's instructions and agreed to go to Philadelphia as the guest of his Uncle Henry, his mother's brother, a wealthy merchant in that city. He considered inviting Bull but was declined when the idea was suggested. \"What could I do in a place like that?\" he asked. \"I don't even have a dinner coat, let alone dancing shoes. I'd be an awkward introduction to Philadelphia society. No, I'm going to New York for a day or two and see Mr. Simmons, the man who helped me get into Andover.\"\nI shall come back here and study during Christmas. I need to, I guess.\n\nOh, come on, Bull! You don't know my uncle. He wouldn't care whether you wore a tuxedo or a khaki sweater. He's a regular fellow, fought all through the War, and goes hunting in Africa. He likes people, not clothes.\n\nThat's all right. There won't be any battle or any lion-hunt in Philadelphia this Christmas\u2014nothing but 'tea fights.' I'm going on my own.\n\nAnd Bull refused to listen to any further arguments.\n\nDuring the last three days of the fall term, there was a regular schedule of final examinations, and it seemed to Oscar as if life were just one test after another. On Thursday morning, however, it was all over, and Oscar went with Bull to Boston just as soon as they could catch a train. On the way to town, Oscar discovered that Bull had brought along some papers for him to review.\nplanned to ride in a day coach to New York; it speaks volumes for Oscar's tact that he never faltered, but bought his ticket in the same way, although he had not imagined that anybody ever took a journey of five hours except in a Pullman car. It was his first lesson in how the other half live.\n\nThe two parted company in Grand Central Station, and Oscar went on to Philadelphia, where he spent the next three weeks. He was very fond of his aunt and uncle, and they, in their turn, undertook to make the hours pass pleasantly.\n\nUncle Henry, who was a bluff, outspoken man, did not hesitate to congratulate him on his improvement. \"Great Scott, Alfred, you look as if you were going to be an athlete. What has happened to you? When I saw you last fall, you were a poor, spindly thing; now you\u2019ve filled out\"\n\"Andover is a pretty good kind of school. Your cheeks are ruddy in the chest. I'm glad Mother sent me here. It's the finest little spot on earth. She hesitated a long time before she did. She thought it was too rough a place for you. I was the worst prig on this side of the Atlantic Ocean. I may not be much better now, but Andover is responsible for whatever change there is. Your mother is in for a big surprise. I just hope I'll be around when you meet. If some of your former tormentors, like Hal Manning and Joe Watson, could have seen you at tea dances in the Bellevue-Stratford, moving gracefully.\"\nThe Andover Way\n\nUnembarrassed in the best society, they would have been overcome by his poise and ease of manner. He was back in his own environment once more, where his virtues were recognized and his defects seemed unimportant. Vacation was a continuous succession of theatre parties, balls, concerts, and teas, with a few dinners scattered in the program here and there. Oscar's one sorrow was that he had very little opportunity to keep up his running, but his Uncle Henry, who had been an oarsman at New Haven, assured him that the respite would be good for him. He did, however, take some long walks in the park, and occasionally he would break into a jog-trot on the long level stretches. He was careful also not to eat rich cakes and pastries, and he managed to get plenty of sleep in the morning when he had been out late.\nThe night before. His Uncle Henry watched him with some amusement but with inward delight at the transformation which had taken place. The climax of the holiday season was a Junior League ball, attended by what seemed to Oscar to be thousands of young men and women from schools and colleges. He was standing in the crowd of \"stags\" on one side of the ballroom when he saw Steve Fisher in a corner by him- a Good Samaritan.\n\nSelf, evidently very much bored, Steve was not quite certain whether he ought to be the one to claim acquaintance. Oscar waited a moment; but soon Steve turned, and when he caught sight of Oscar, he came eagerly in his direction.\n\n\"Why, hello, Oscar,\" he cried, as he seized his hand. \"I didn't expect to see you in this part of the world.\"\n\n\"Yes, my uncle lives here, and I'm staying with him.\"\nSteve: \"No, I just came down from New York for this dance. My home is in Montana, and I've been spending the vacation with a fellow out in Englewood. He's the one that dragged me here. The only trouble is that neither of us knows many of these girls.\"\n\nOscar: \"Is that so? Why don't you let me introduce you? I've often been here to visit my relatives, and I can lead you to some beauties.\"\n\nSteve, slightly skeptical, gave his assent. And it is recorded that Oscar fulfilled his promise. Within half an hour, Steve had met some of the most charming girls he had ever seen, and was having an enthralling time \u2013 at a dance which, an hour before, had appeared very dull.\n\nBefore the evening was over, he came up to Oscar.\nIn a more ingratiating manner than ever shown, he cordially slapped Steve on the shoulder and said, \"See here, old top, you've certainly done me a good turn, and I appreciate it. You seem to be the whole bag of potatoes in this 'burg.' Your name is worth a million dollars.\"\n\nWhen Steve returned to Andover, he had something to tell Hal and Joe about Oscar's lofty position in the social world. This reputation did not harm Oscar in the least. Oscar had enjoyed a delightful holiday, but being anxious to get back to his running, he was not at all regretful when the time came to report at Andover. His Uncle Henry, who had enjoyed him immensely, did not want him to depart. But the \"Goodbyes!\" had to be said, and he soon found himself among old school friends on the Knickerbocker going from New York to Boston.\nThe boy stepped off the Boston and Maine train at Andover station, finding at least two feet of snow on the ground. Everything looked wintry. In a taxicab, he was jolted up a rutted hill and stared out at the drifts along the trolley tracks. Fortunately, he had a new raccoon coat, which his thoughtful mother had insisted on purchasing before she sailed. Oscar confessed that it was not uncomfortable now. The cab stopped in front of Wendell Hall. He looked around cheerfully at the familiar scenes, stepped into a group of dormitory mates, and rushed up the stairs to Bulk's room. Bursting in the door without.\n\"his manners atrocious, he saw Bull in his desk-chair, leaning over with his head on his arms, a picture of unredeemed dejection. At Oscar's blustery entrance, he jumped up quickly and tried rather pathetically to assume a gay expression.\n\n\"Why, hello, you old reprobate,\" he shouted with something of his usual boisterousness. \"I'm glad to see you back. Steve Fisher tells me that you're the king of Philadelphia cotillion leaders. Sit down and tell me all about it.\"\n\n\"I'm fine, of course,\" answered Oscar, who could see at once that something was wrong. \"But what's the trouble with you? You look like the last rose of summer! Are you sick?\"\n\n\"No, I guess not.\"\n\n\"Well, what is the matter? You are a regular winter gloom.\"\n\n\"It's nothing that you can help, kiddo.\"\"\n\"Why don't you open up and tell me? If you've stolen a watch or poisoned anyone's soup, I'll keep quiet.\n\n\"It isn't really very much, I suppose,\" responded Bull at last. \"I can't stay in Andover any longer.\n\n\"Can't stay here! I thought you liked the place! \"\n\n\"I do, but all my money's gone.\n\n\"I don't see what difference that makes. Aren't you working and earning your way? Besides, I always thought that you had a scholarship.\n\n\"You're right, I have; but you see, I didn't finish up last term quite so well in my studies as I should have, and the amount of my scholarship has been reduced. And then this Mr. Simmons who has been helping me has written that he can't afford to do it any more. So I've just got to get out and begin earning money for myself.\"\n\"A GOOD SAMARITAN: \"If I were you, I'd just quit talking like that. Look here, Bull, I get more money a month than I could possibly spend in a year. It just piles up in the bank, and it might as well be put to some useful purpose. All I need to know is how much you want, and I can get it for you pronto. All I have to do is write a check. There must be more than a thousand dollars to my credit at this moment.\"\n\n\"But I can't take your money, Oscar. You're a brick, but it wouldn't be right. You haven't the shadow of a chance of having it returned. You see, it's literally true that I haven't a cent to my name, and there's nobody back of me to help me out. I'm playing a lone hand, as the detective stories say.\"\"\n\nCleaned Text: \"A GOOD SAMARITAN: 'If I were you, I'd just quit talking like that. Look here, Bull, I get more money a month than I could possibly spend in a year. It just piles up in the bank, and it might as well be put to some useful purpose. All I need to know is how much you want, and I can get it for you pronto. All I have to do is write a check. There must be more than a thousand dollars to my credit at this moment. But I can't take your money, Oscar. You're a brick, but it wouldn't be right. You haven't the shadow of a chance of having it returned. You see, it's literally true that I haven't a cent to my name, and there's nobody back of me to help me out. I'm playing a lone hand, as the detective stories say.'\"\nI don't care if I ever see the cash again. Besides, I know you, and I'm sure that nothing can keep you from success. You will earn enough within two years after your graduation to pay up what you owe. Oscar was doing his best to put forth every argument which would persuade Bull to accept his assistance, knowing that the latter was proud and that it would be no easy matter to overcome his scruples. The two debated the matter for a long time, and finally, as the mid-night chimes were striking, Bull agreed to accept a loan of five hundred dollars for his expenses during the remainder of the year, with the specific understanding that he was to sign a promissory note for that sum and that Oscar would consider the transaction as a business investment. When the discussion ended in this settlement, both boys were much relieved.\nBull called at the Head's office the next morning to explain, in person, what had happened. \"Do you think, sir, that I am justified in accepting Harris's proposal?\" he inquired, after he had related all the details. \"Why not, Taylor?\" was the Head's prompt reply. \"He has plenty of money of his own. I happen to know that. He likes you and believes in your future. Furthermore, he is bound to be much injured in his feelings if you refuse. I hope that you will, by all means, borrow the money and remain at Andover until the year is over.\" \"And you don't think, then, that it will seem like sponging on a friend?\" \"Not at all, my boy,\" said the Head reassuringly. \"Harris is an unusual lad, who has a mighty good thinking-piece on those shoulders of his.\"\nHe's a bit too individual from the undergraduate point of view, but I have an idea that he's going to be very popular before many months go by. You just bet he is, answered Bull with vehemence which made the Head break into a smile. The only reason why he isn't liked better now is because a lot of the fellows can't understand his fine qualities. The truth is that he has grown beyond the 'kid' stage, and a lot of these boys haven't. Bull was having difficulty in avoiding the slang which he habitually employed with his friends. \"Well, at any rate, don't hesitate to take the money, Taylor,\" advised the Head as he rose to indicate that the interview was over. \"And, if you can make a little improvement in that geometry, I'll arrange about some additional aid on a scholarship.\"\nNeither Bull nor the Head felt absolutely bound to keep Oscar's generosity a secret. Consequently, it was not long before his fine conduct was generally talked about, and he found himself being treated in a most kindly way by some teachers who hitherto had not seemed to understand him. The incident firmly cemented his friendship with Bull. The latter would not, from that moment, tolerate the slightest suggestion of critical comment of Oscar, and nearly broke off amicable relations with some of his closest companions because of some mildly disparaging remarks they made at Oscar's expense. Oscar himself could feel, as the winter wore on, that he was more and more being accepted as a \"regular fellow.\"\n\nIt was just being discovered, moreover, that Oscar had an uncanny gift for analyzing the psyche.\nPsychology of teachers and predicting the type of questions each instructor was likely to ask. Once, just before an examination given by \"Dolly\" Loring on Milton\u2019s Minor Poems, Oscar had the distinction of identifying in advance five of the six passages she set on her paper for interpretation. Achievements like this made Oscar very popular before the \"rating period,\" when tests were common. Furthermore, Oscar gained a considerable reputation as an explainer of difficult math problems, and his classmates learned that he was always ready to help them with their written work. He was recognized as a quick and clever student, but escaped the odium which attaches to the \"plugger\" and the \"grind.\" It was just after his birthday, in the middle of January, that Oscar wrote to his mother a kind letter.\n\"Dearest Mother, I am now nineteen years old and suppose I ought to feel wiser. You ask how I am getting along, and I wish I had more to tell. My school work is not bad, and I must admit it seems easy. My morals are not being contaminated, and I haven't been caught in any deviltry yet. When I first came, I was a fool, and the fellows made me a kind of goat. But now they are more decent to me, probably because they find that I'm on to their game.\"\n\"You mother. \"My poor boy is losing his refined ways and language!\". \"You want to have me say what I have learned. First, I've discovered that not all influential fellows come from what we used to call 'the best society'. Second, I've found out that money doesn't make any difference about a man's popularity, at least here in Andover. Third, I've been taught by some experience that there's something good in almost everybody if you can get to know him. You can't really hate a fellow you know. Perhaps these things don't seem important to you, but they're worth a good deal to me just now, much more than any Geometry or French.\n\n\"You will be interested to hear that I've just lent five hundred dollars to Bull Taylor. He used to be a New York newsboy, and he's my best friend.\"\n\"friend in school. \"Horrors!\" cried Mrs. Harris as her eyes fell on this sentence and caught its meaning. \"Poor Alfred! I've probably ruined his career!\"\n\n\"I hope that you'll plan to get back to America for the Andover-Exeter Track Meet on Memorial Day. I may run in it.\n\n\"Your affectionate son,\nAlfred.\n\nIt will be surmised from some statements in this communication that Alfred Tennyson Harris had been busy framing for himself a working theory of life. The materials for this new philosophy had been provided from many sources\u2014from fireside talks with \"Charlie\" Foster, chapel lectures by the Head, little adventures with fellow-students, and conversations with an odd acquaintance, David McGregor, the janitor for Wendell Hall. David, who admitted that he was descended from an ancient Scottish line, was a long\"\nA lean figure with a corrugated face, a confidential manner, and a sly twinkle in his light-blue eyes - all joined with a strong acquisitive sense. He had been employed by the school for many years and could tell stories about old boys for generations back. Once Oscar said to him, \"Look here, Dave, you've seen a lot of things happen here in Andover. Why don't you publish your reminiscences?\"\n\nDavid, scratching his head over this rather long word, finally got Oscar's meaning and replied, \"Mister Harris, when I was a boy in old Dundee, I did lots of foolish things, but I never wrote any book.\"\n\nDavid was a loyal member of his local clan and attended the meetings with regularity. There was one great evening during Oscar's year at Andover when Harry Lauder, the famous comedian, made a visit to his countrymen in the town.\nA banquet was given in honor of Oscar, to which all Scotchmen in the vicinity were invited. Professor Foster, who was himself a Highlander in his ancestry, told Oscar of an incident towards the close of the festivities. Excited David rose from his seat and proposed a health, \"To Sir Harry Lauder, and Lady Lauder!\"\n\nOn a very cold Sunday morning, there was a knock at Oscar's door. David walked in, threw off his rough tweed overcoat, and displayed himself in full regalia: kilt, plaid, bonnet, and bare legs. For the edification of Oscar, Bull, and several other boys who congregated there, he did a Highland fling to the accompaniment of a whistled tune. When Bull Taylor remarked upon David's exposure to the elements, the latter answered, \"The McGregors belong to a hardy clan.\"\nWhen David was in the right mood, he liked to toast his toes in front of the open fire and talk in his broad dialect about \"Bonnie Doon\" and \"Auld Reekie,\" keeping Oscar with him for so long that he had to use summary methods to get rid of him. One day the old man picked from the bookshelf a gorgeously bound copy of Burns's poetry and, turning the pages, began in a low voice to murmur the lines, shaking his head all the time with delight. Gradually warming up, he recited whole passages with a fervor which only a genuine Scotchman can show. Oscar was profoundly stirred by some of the poems, not the love songs, although they were fascinating, but the sturdy lyrics of independence, particularly:\n\nA Good Samaritan\n\"What though on hamely fare we dine,\nWear hoddin' grey, and a' that?\nGie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,\nWe'll tak a cup o' kindness yet.\"\nA man is a man for a' that\nThe one which appealed to him most, however, was a stanza which he came across by chance and asked David to recite:\n\"If happiness hae not her seat\nAnd center in the breast,\nWe may be wise, or rich, or great,\nBut never can be blest!\nNae treasures nor pleasures\nCould make us happy long;\nThe heart ay's the part that ay\nThat makes us right or wrong!\"\nThis, thought Oscar, is a whole sermon in itself. So impressed was he with it that he induced David to teach him how to pronounce the gnarled consonants and to roll his \"r's\" like the great Harry Lauder himself. Then, with fire in his eye, he would rush into Bulk's room and declaim:\n\"The heart is the part that is\nThat makes us right or wrong!\"\nAmong the elements of a liberal education which Andover had to offer Oscar Harris, this was\nAll his life Oscar had lived in warm climates. As a child in Texas and as a youth in Southern France and Italy, he had seldom seen snow and had never known what it is to be cold, really chilled through to the bone. Hence he had looked forward with dread to the coming of the New England winter, which his mother had described to him as a season of sore throats, influenza, and pneumonia. When he peered out of his window on the morning after his return from the Christmas holidays, he could see nothing but a wide level plain of white, stretching all the way down to the woods. Here and there beaten tracks indicated that people had been out on snowshoes or skis. The paths which he had been accused of neglecting were now well-trodden.\nTom's footprints were completely obliterated, covered by nearly a foot of hard-packed snow. When he set out for the \"Beanery,\" he noticed that the broad Main Street, an important highway between Boston and Portland, had been cleared by scrapers so that automobiles could run without much difficulty; but the snow was piled in gigantic drifts on each side. The boys were wearing enormous flapping overshoes and heavy ulsters, although most of them inconsistently refused to put on hats. Oscar, in his fur coat, was by no means set apart, for there were many garbed precisely as he was. There could be no doubt that winter had descended on Andover Hill.\n\nOscar's first expedition, after he had reported at the Registrar's office, interviewed his Class Officer for the making out of his schedule, and unpacked his belongings.\nOscar went to the Gymnasium to inquire about the track program for the term. He was told that he needed to pass \"efficiency tests\" first if he wanted to be completely free for running. He then went to Dr. Rogers's headquarters and obtained permission to take the trials immediately. These tests were of various kinds, meant to prove strength, endurance, agility, and courage. In the high jump, although Oscar had never practiced the event, he managed to clear three feet, nine inches, earning fifteen out of a possible twenty points. He easily covered the half-mile in less than two minutes, fifty seconds, and obtained the maximum of twenty points. As soon as this was over, Dr. Rogers examined his heart and lungs, and Oscar was pleased to notice\nThe physician's smile as he listened through the stethoscope. \"You are certainly still improving, Harris,\" he commented. \"Far faster than I ever thought you could do it. And you must have put on at least fifteen pounds since last fall.\"\n\n\"Exactly thirteen,\" said Oscar, with pardonable pride.\n\nWith the thigh flexion, better known as the \"belly grind,\" Oscar had some difficulty. But he managed to perform that extraordinary operation nine times, thus obtaining fifteen more points. Those unfamiliar with such things may be interested to know that this exercise consists in hanging from a bar with one's hands and lifting the legs until the toes touch the bar overhead \u2014 a real ordeal for obese middle age but simple for the young and supple. He had next to climb a pole hand-over-hand, a difficult task for him because\nHis arms were not well developed yet, and he was still tall and ungainly. Twelve feet was as high as he could go, adding ten points to his score. Lastly, he had to dive into the tank and swim a hundred yards, a simple proposition for a lad who had been brought up in salt water and to whom a swim of a mile was nothing. He was readily allowed the full twenty points for this test. \"Doe\" Rogers told him that this swimming was a trial which even experienced athletes sometimes fail. \"Why,\" he said, \"look at Chuck Ellis, the quarter-back on the Varsity. He has never been able to take a dive, and of course he hasn't yet received full credit for physical efficiency. He is coming around this afternoon for one more try, but I doubt whether he can make it. He has always been afraid of the dive.\"\nWhen Oscar emerged victorious from the tank, Dr. Rogers certified him as \"physically efficient,\" rating him at eighty out of a hundred. \"You'll do better than that in a few weeks,\" Dr. Rogers commented. \"But you've made a fine showing considering what you were last September. And now you're free to enroll in any competitive sport of your choice. I suppose you're going to run, aren't you?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir! That's what I'm going to try to do. And may I go over to the Case Memorial and start this afternoon?\"\n\n\"As far as I'm concerned, it's all right. Just don't be in too great a rush. You had better consider your progress carefully.\"\nMr. Shepley, the Track Coach, right away and find out what he wants you to do. Oscar, quite satisfied with his progress thus far, dressed himself and went out to find Mr. Shepley at the Case Memorial, a great indoor athletic field with a dirt floor for baseball and field events and a gallery with a hanging track for the longer runs. The roof was entirely of steel and glass, so that it was well lit; and, even in the dead of winter, when the snowdrifts were two or three feet deep upon the playing-fields, it was possible for the boys to practice batting and carry on their regular training in such sports as jumping, weight-throwing, and pole-vaulting. The building was a gift to the academy from a distinguished alumnus in memory of his son \u2013 a young fellow who had played on the nine but had died during the following summer.\nOscar, amazed by the operation's effects and its large size with numerous sports happening at once, approached Mr. Shepley observing shot-putters. \"Mr. Shepley, I'm not very good, but I'd like to go out for track this winter. I'm ready to start right away if you'll let me,\" he said. Mr. Shepley, known as \"Shep\" to everyone at Andover, was a broad-shouldered, heavily built man of thirty-five, still light on his feet and quick in his motions. He had played a good game of football in his college days, and some of his weight event records were still standing. Among the boys, he was very popular for being even-tempered.\nShep, believed in a policy of encouragement and never failed to give each candidate a fair deal. He was the regular coach for all track athletics, but under him was \"Larry\" Spear, a younger man not long out of the university who had won a place at the Olympic Games in the 1500-meter race and had a national reputation as a distance runner. Shep preferred to have the track events in the hands of \"Larry\" Spear, attending to the field work himself.\n\n\"Hello, what's your name?\" inquired Shep, who had never noticed Oscar before. The boy's spectacles and thin legs did not give him the outward semblance of a champion.\n\n\"Harris, sir.\"\n\n\"Harris? Harris? Aren't you the fellow that did some work with the cross-country squad? I think I've heard about you.\"\n\n\"Yes, I did go out once or twice with them.\"\n\"But I'm mighty green,\" said Oscar.\n\"So was everybody once,\" Shep laconically replied. \"Got anything to do just now?\"\n\"No, I don't have any classes until tomorrow.\"\n\"Then just throw off your clothes and jog around the track a lap or two. I want to get an idea as to how you run.\"\nOscar obediently took off his overcoat and other outer garments, revealing his \"B.V.D.'s\" beneath. Shep then called to Larry Spear, who was working in another corner of the cage. He was a beautifully built specimen of physical vigor, about five feet ten inches in height, and perfectly proportioned. Oscar had often admired him as he led some of the runners around the cinder track with long easy strides.\n\"Larry,\" said Shep, \"here's another candidate for your 'miters.' Don't you recognize him?\"\nLarry replied, \"Of course, it's Harris, isn't it? I'm glad you're coming out. I've seen you starting off with Kid Wing and his gang.\"\n\n\"Yes, I've done a little running with him,\" Oscar answered modestly as Larry shook his hand. \"But I've never had anyone tell me how it should be done.\"\n\n\"Let's try you out a bit,\" suggested Shep. \"Now, Oscar, go up to the track and trot around twice at an easy gait. We want just a line on your style.\"\n\nOscar promptly started out, going rather slowly at first and then tearing at top speed down the last straightaway in obedience to a shouted instruction from Shep.\n\n\"That'll do,\" said the coach as Oscar, breathing rather heavily, came up from the finish.\n\n\"Where did you begin to run?\"\n\n\"I never was on a track until last fall. Then I got so sore at myself because I was put in with the faster runners.\"\nI. The physical wrecks I decided to develop myself. One day I just happened to follow the cross-country squad, and it was so easy to keep up that I asked permission to go with them. I've been practicing every day since, except during the Christmas vacation.\n\nShep: \"You're not really that bad. What do you think of him, Larry?\"\n\nLarry: \"Well, of course you have your faults, like all beginners. But I noticed when I watched you running with Kid Wing last fall that you evidently had stamina, which is essential in running the mile. From what Dr. Rogers tells me, you have been developing very rapidly since then. Because of this, you are lacking in speed. Although you may not realize it, speed is just as important to a good miler as stamina is.\"\nYour carriage is awkward. In improving that, you will add to your speed and endurance. I'll explain a minute. If you could have seen yourself when you were running, you would have noted that you were kicking your heels up behind you. This is lost energy. What you want to do is bring them right forward when you pick them up. Furthermore, lift your knees a trifle higher when you stride forward and land on the balls of your feet instead of in a flat-footed manner. Then your back and shoulders were held in too stiff a position, and you were leaning backwards. Instead of this, you should lean slightly forward so that the weight of your body will be over the ball of your foot when you land. Keep your elbows a little closer to your body, and take a long, easy stride without tensing.\n\"muscles \u2013 that's the kind that covers ground. There's a long lecture for you. Do you think you can remember it all? \"I'll certainly do my best,\" answered Oscar, trying to conceal the discouragement he felt. \"Don't be pessimistic,\" continued Larry. \"You really are a natural runner, and I think that we can get rid of your more obvious weaknesses in no time at all. All you need is patience and industry; and so far as I can see, you have plenty of both. You may not get to be a world-beater in a week, but some day you'll be winning races at college if you keep at it and take care of yourself.\" \"I'll do anything to learn how to run,\" burst out Oscar, with an enthusiasm which made the older men smile. \"All right, that's settled,\" said Shep. \"You turn up here at two-thirty this afternoon, and\"\nLarry will take charge of you for a while. In two weeks, I'll have a look at you to see how you are getting along. That was the beginning of a significant change in Oscar\u2019s routine. He was now for the first time to be really busy, with every minute occupied. Each afternoon, as soon as lunch was over, he went to the Gymnasium, changed his clothes, and reported to Larry Spear in the Case Memorial. For two or three days, he did nothing but run up and down on the dirt floor, trying to carry out Larry's instructions about the way to manage his feet and arms. He took special breathing exercises for the enlargement of his lung capacity. When his labors were over, usually about three-thirty, he would strip, take a cold shower, and have a refreshing plunge in the pool. He found himself at first very tired and drowsy at night.\nHe was glad to crawl between the sheets at ten o'clock. But he awakened each morning eager for more training, and Larry had to caution him repeatedly not to overdo his practice. \"You must keep yourself fresh and alert,\" he kept saying. \"If you carry actual running too far, you'll get stale, and that's fatal!\" It was a strange fact that he was meanwhile steadily improving in his studies. He realized, after two weeks of this routine, that his regular habits and robust health were enabling him to work more rapidly, and his mind seemed clearer than it ever had been before.\n\nIt used to interest Oscar immensely to see the complicated machine in motion at the Gymnasium and the Case Memorial, where some of the faculty never went. He would pause on the \"Gym\" floor to watch dozens of boys perform various exercises.\nforming grotesque antics in order to qualify for some physical tests; in the pool he would come across Mr. Dale, the Swimming Coach, showing a group of what the Phillipian called \u201cnatators\u201d how to dive and plunge; on the hockey rink, as he ran across from the \u201cGym\u201d to the Case Memorial, he could see sweatered figures darting here and there, chasing a puck over the ice; in the gallery of the cage were small squads of fencers awkwardly handling the foils; and on the floor of the enclosure around him there were always hurdlers and shot-putters and sprinters, each one intent on some particular task. Even these were not all, for, in secluded rooms in the Gymnasium there were boxers and wrestlers preparing for matches, and at some hours on the \u201cGym\u201d floor the basketball team would be assembled for practice.\nEverywhere, students were being taught how to acquire strength for the burdens of life. Body was not made more important than mind; it was taken as contributing to it. Habits of cleanliness and regular exercise were being fostered, which would last most boys throughout their careers.\n\nLittle by little, Oscar could feel that he was improving. His intelligence made him quick to catch and apply a suggestion, and he was an apt pupil. Occasionally, Larry Spear would praise him when he did especially well. Soon, he was practicing how to start with the gun. Once a week, he was allowed to go into a real race with some of his competitors, and he learned the joy of winning over a friendly rival. It somehow gave him renewed confidence when he discovered that there were others who were not as good as he was.\nBy George, Bull, you know I beat four fellows in a mile try-out this afternoon?\n\"Good for you, Oscar. That's what you need most of all - self-assurance! I'll tell you right now that when you once get in your head the idea that you can win, that's half the battle.\"\n\nWins His Spurs\n\"Well, I'm not going to get cocky,\" answered Oscar, \"because there are three or four who are better than I am. But I'm going to beat them yet.\"\n\nOne of the important events of the Winter Term is always the big carnival of the Boston Athletic Association, commonly called the \"B.A.A. Games,\" in which there is included a relay race between Andover and Exeter. It invariably arouses great enthusiasm among the followers of track sports. The Andover team was composed of:\nA quartet of experienced men, headed by Phil Allen, a brilliant quarter-miler. Two weeks before the meet, everything looked bright for Anover. And then, in quick succession, two of the four were incapacitated: Henry Downing, the second-best sprinter, fell ill with the mumps and had to go home; and \"Charlie\" Nolan, always a reliable performer, was operated on in the Infirmary for appendicitis. On the next afternoon, Larry Spear called the runners together for a final look. Only Phil Allen and \"Fritz\" Allis were left on the relay team.\n\n\"Fellows,\" announced Larry, as the twelve or fifteen men gathered round him, \"we're up against it. There are only a few days left for training, and we've got to rely on some absolutely green men. I'm going to pick 'Barney' Wright and\"\u2014he hesitated for a fraction of a second\u2014\nOscar felt a trembling at the knees as Harris was mentioned. \"It can't be,\" he thought. \"I must have heard wrong.\" But then he heard his friend Mark Stackpole say, \"Congratulations, old man. You've got a chance now.\" To have someone say that to him was a great encouragement in itself.\n\nFor the next ten days, Oscar was so excited that he could hardly eat. Larry had to get him aside and warn him, \"Harris, you're all on edge. Calm down, or you'll go to pieces. Tomorrow afternoon there'll be no practice of any kind. I want you to go back to your room with the most thrilling detective story in the Library and forget all about track meets and relay races. If you turn up again as nervous as you were today, I'll fire you off the team. I mean it!\"\n\nThis threat, which had a sincere ring about it, made Oscar assume an outward calm.\nHe was seething wardably. He dreamed again and again of coming yards ahead of his Exeter opponent and stepping up to receive the gold medal which would be his reward. He could even hear the adulation of his fellows as he came back to his room after the victory. His hours in the classroom seemed interminable.\n\nOn the evening before the race, Larry Spear gave the team some sound advice, warning them of the peculiarities of their Exeter rivals and outlining the strategy which would be used. Oscar was to run third, with Phil Allen, the blond sprinter, coming last. It was to be Oscar\u2019s business, as Larry informed him, not to lose any more distance than he could help doing, and to enable Phil to triumph over his Exeter opponent as the race ended.\n\nOn Saturday morning, it was impossible for Oscar to concentrate his mind on the race.\nHis studies consumed his thoughts. Despite his efforts to focus, he couldn't help but consider the burden upon him. In the early afternoon, he adhered to Larry\u2019s instructions and played checkers with Mark Stackpole. However, he barely won a game. He was relieved when the time came for the train, and the journey was made bearable by the continuous joking between Shep and Larry, who never grew tired of playing practical jokes on each other.\n\nSoon enough, he was in the dressing room, donning his running trunks. Phil Allen approached, slapping him on the back, and exclaimed, \u201cBuck up, old top!\u201d Oscar was followed by Larry, who said, \u201cHere, Oscar, put on a smile! It isn\u2019t a funeral, you know! In an hour, it\u2019ll all be over.\u201d Oscar pondered how anyone could find amusement in such a situation.\nbody could speak so casually about a race which to him seemed momentous. It didn't occur to him that Phil and Larry had been in dozens of similar contests, and that their coolness was the product of long experience.\n\nAs Oscar stepped into the open, before a crowd of at least ten thousand spectators, he felt as if the whole world were staring at him. His knees were knocking together, and he could almost hear his heart beating like a trip-hammer. A weak sensation swept over him; there was a colossal hollow at the pit of his stomach, and he seemed completely helpless. His attention was concentrated for a few seconds on the problem of keeping his ankles from bending under him. Then he heard Larry Spear say, \"Go out and warm up with the others on the track for a minute or two. You'll have more confidence when your legs begin to move.\"\nLarry's calm manner reassured Oscar. Wins his spurs. Oscar followed Phil Allen's movements as he took short sprints up and down, then raised his knees as high as he could reach. Once Oscar stopped, he could hear the Andover rooters giving a \"Long Andover, with Allen on the end!\" He pricked up his ears and listened - yes, there it was, the familiar sound. Then the cheerleader shouted, \"Two and one for Harris, twice!\" They were cheering for him. It was the first time in his life such a thing had happened. The noise was like stirring music to his soul. Oscar glanced at Phil Allen, who was completely unconcerned. Once he stooped over to tie his shoelace tighter and occasionally rose on his toes to make sure his muscles were functioning properly.\nOscar found himself less nervous and breathing more freely as he watched. The men were called to the starting mark for the Andover-Exeter race, the only interscholastic event in the evening at the \"B.A.A.\" games, which usually aroused more enthusiasm among the spectators than any college contests. A silence fell over the crowd as the two first runners lined up: Fritz Allis, Andover's representative, and the Exeter sprinter. The starter gave his final instructions. Then there was the report of the pistol, and they were off! The track had three laps to the quarter-mile, and, as the regulation relay distance was a mile, each man had to go around three times. Neck and neck, the two dashed on, hardly a foot apart as they completed the circuit twice. Meanwhile, Barney Wright, Andover's second runner, prepared to take over.\nTwo men prepared to receive the baton. Fritz and the Exeter man sprinted around the curve. The Exeter man appeared to be gaining slightly, but on the final straightaway, Fritz pulled up alongside him and reached the starting point perhaps a flash of an eye ahead.\n\nBarney Wright was off down the boards, and Oscar, his teeth chattering, got into position to take his turn. Shep spoke a few words of encouragement into his ear, and Phil Allen, standing by his side, said, \"You'll do it all right, Oscar! Just keep your nerve.\"\n\nMeanwhile, the two runners continued bounding on. Barney, who was like Oscar, an untried man, fell ever so slightly behind. As they came into sight at the end, Oscar could see that the Exeter runner was in the lead by a yard or two, and realistically, Fritz had won.\nOscar stood expectantly on the mark, still trembling - not with fear but with excitement. The Exeter man dashed in first, and then, like a whirlwind, came Barney. Oscar seized the baton, and with \"Go it!\" ringing in his ears, started off. From the speed with which Bixby started, it was apparent that he hoped to run Oscar right off his feet. But Oscar had been carefully coached and knew exactly what he was doing. Larry had said to him just before the race, \"Remember, Harris, you are not a sprinter. You must be careful not to run yourself out during the first lap and then die at the close of the second. No matter how hard this Bixby tries to run away from you, keep your head. This kind of a race takes brains as much as speed.\"\nOscar found relief as his legs moved, to his surprise, going easily behind Sid Bixby without inconvenience. Sid seemed to strain for a commanding lead, but Oscar followed instructions and made no attempt to catch him. By the end of the second lap, Oscar was about ten feet behind, and the Andover Way stands were a raving, shouting mass of humanity. However, once in action, Oscar found himself amazingly cool. He knew precisely when to start his sprint, and as the two entered the back stretch, he released his reserve energy, inch by inch and foot by foot, drawing nearer to his rival, who was obviously running hard.\nWith difficulty, Oscar was conscious of the fact that gave him added power. He was not aware of the yelling thousands; he could not have told whether they were silent or cheering, but he was certain that he could beat the Exeter man if only he had enough distance. As they rounded the last curve and started down the straightaway, he was still a foot behind, but gaining. Side by side they went. Oscar was desperately swinging his arms to give himself impetus. His muscles were now very tight, and his teeth were clenched. He saw Phil Allen ahead of him, waving encouragement with his outstretched arm, waiting to receive the baton from his hand. With a final lunge forward, he thrust it out, felt Phil seize it, and staggered to the side of the track, only to be held up by the arms of the onlookers. First among them was WINS HIS SPURS.\nMark Stackpole, who exclaimed, \"Bully for you, old top! We\u2019ve got him! Phil can trim that fellow Hawkins without half trying! You've given him a corking start!\"\n\nIt had all happened so quickly that Oscar could hardly believe his part was done. But he straightened up, pulled around himself the blanket which some kindly disposed person had thrown over his shoulders, and waited to see the finish. Sure enough, Phil Allen, with the advantage of a full yard which Oscar had given him, was running away from the Exeter man, who was not in good condition. In the end, Phil crossed the finish line at least five yards ahead. It was a conclusive Andover victory, in not far from record time.\n\n\"Why,\" thought Oscar as he walked to his dressing-room, \"Phil would have won for us, no matter what I did!\"\nIn the dressing room, Oscar experienced his first taste of glory, assigned in every age to physical prowess. Man after man whose face he did not recognize approached to shake his hand, saying, \"Fine race, Oscar!\" or \"Well run, Harris!\" Someone handed him a medal, but he had no time to look at it. Most satisfying to Oscar was the moment when Larry appeared and said, \"Well, Harris, you're going to make a 'miler,' I think. If you can keep from getting conceited over this victory, you'll turn out all right.\" After the long ride home in the train and the cold journey up the hill to Wendell Hall, Oscar, somewhat bewildered, a little tired, but very, very happy, fell into a dreamless sleep. He had made good!\n\nCHAPTER VIII\nOscar's new friendships with Kid Wing and Bull Taylor brought him into contact with a society about which he had known nothing during the fall term. His appearance on the track squad, along with being picked for the relay team, made him a familiar figure to the student body. Soon, he noticed that he was being spoken to cordially on the street by men who had hitherto contented themselves with the indifferent greeting of conventionality. On one or two occasions, he actually found himself walking across campus with Steve Fisher, who, as President of the senior class, was undoubtedly the most important man in school. He became well acquainted with Hal Manning, in whom he detected a kindred spirit; and he even discovered by experience that the gayly dressed Hal was.\nTed Sherman was a genial and unselfish soul at heart. In short, Oscar could see signs that he was being accepted by the members of a kind of inner circle, composed of those who really shaped undergraduate opinion. Such a group there must inevitably be in a school like Andover \u2013 a group made up of the men who do things, who have the capacity for leadership, and in whom their mates have confidence. They are not always athletes, although they are likely to be; but they do possess personality and the heaven-sent ability to get along with others. As he became more intimate with fellows of this type, Oscar's outlook on life broadened. He saw that, in spite of some mistakes, boys judge one another with real shrewdness and discernment, and can usually pick the wheat from the chaff.\n\nIf such a society as a true democracy ever has existed.\nIn a great American school, boy meets boy on absolutely even terms. Each individual student starts with the same chance, regardless of previous surroundings or antecedents. Interested in human nature with all its frailties and obsessions, Oscar saw around him boys of every conceivable type, representing a hundred different outlooks on life and the world in general. On the same floor with him lived \"Dutch\" Von Bernuth, a young Hollander, the son of a prosperous Amsterdam merchant who had sent his heir to the United States to learn American business methods and get in touch with transatlantic affairs. Dutch called on Oscar with some frequency, largely at first because of the latter's familiarity with Europe and especially because Oscar spoke Dutch's language fluently.\n\"specially with Holland, which brought about a congeniality between the two. Later, however, a real friendship developed, based on a certain similarity in dispositions. Dutch was a frail-looking lad, with the manners of a courtier and a slight foreign accent which lent charm to his speech.\n\n\"Didn't you have a hard time getting accustomed to this place?\" asked Oscar of him one day as they sat together on the window-seat watching the snow float down in enormous flakes to the frozen ground.\n\n\"Of course I did. It was like getting adjusted to a new world, \u2014 like moving from the earth to the moon. And there didn't seem to be anybody to tell me how to keep from making a fool of myself.\"\n\n\"I felt exactly the same way,\" said Oscar warmly. \"Nobody acts as if they care a hoot about what happens to a new fellow.\"\n\n182 THE ANDOVER WAY\"\nLater on, I found out that there were plenty of people watching me all the time. But they wanted me to get used to things by myself. It's the most sensible plan in the end, as coddling never really helped anybody. Did I ever tell you about how I was fooled about 'Jimmie' Lapham, the Chemistry professor, when I first came?\n\nNo, what's the yarn?\n\nWell, when I arrived here, they put me in Jimmie's dorm, I suppose because I was a foreigner and they were sorry for me. I didn't know much about this country, and I couldn't even speak good English. One day, when I saw the air-brake apparatus on the outside door, I asked one of the older fellows what it was. He stopped and explained to me very carefully that it was a device which Jimmie Lapham had patented himself for recording the names and hours of arrival of any of the boys in his dorm who stayed out.\nI swallowed the whole story as he told it without a smile on his face. Until the close of the fall term, I always climbed in at some ground-floor window if I came back late from any place, even if I knew Jimmie wasn't in his room. One night, Hal Manning saw me working hard to pry a window up and wanted to know why I was getting in that way when Jimmie was in Boston at the theatre. I told him I didn't want to get a \"cut\" for coming in late, and went on to explain why. I didn't get the \"ha! ha!\" from the crowd? Oh, no! Not at all!\n\n\"Did you ever let Jimmie hear about it?\" he asked, the kind who would appreciate the fun.\n\n\"Maybe I will some day, but I don't like to.\"\n\"You're not the only greenhorn,\" said Oscar. \"Three days after I arrived, I asked Mr. Randall if I could smoke on my way to class. I was a regular cigarette fiend in Paris, and Mother didn't seem to care. It seemed natural to me to ask the question. But Weary looked at me and probably thought I was joking, for he said, 'Really, Harris, the best place for a \"prep\" to smoke is on the steps of the Main Building.' I never questioned what he said, and the next morning, after my eight o'clock class in Pearson, I strolled across to the Main Building, picked out a Fatima, and sat down with my back against one of the pillars for a quiet after-breakfast smoke.\"\nI had been there just about two minutes when the Head came, walking very fast as he always does. His mind was on something else and he didn't see me until he got very close. Then his eagle eye fell on me and he stopped short. Of course I stood up, and then he said, \"Are you a student in this academy?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I replied without a quiver, and not even throwing the cigarette away.\n\n\"What are you smoking here for?\" And then I, like the blithering idiot I was, blurted out, \"Mr. Randall told me it would be all right.\"\n\n\"Mr. Randall told you that!\" he repeated.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" I went on. \"I inquired whether I could smoke on my way to class, and he told me that most fellows preferred the porch of the Main Building.\"\n\nThe Head certainly gave me a searching look, but I guess he saw that I was a little simple.\nHe laughed loudly and couldn't speak for a few minutes. Once he calmed down, he gave me a lecture about Andover, never asking my name. When he was finishing, he said, \"If I were you, my boy, I'd get rid of those cigarettes until you had a decent physical development. You're built like a shoestring and not much stronger than a fair-sized rabbit. I'd be ashamed to call myself your father if you were mine. But if you must smoke that thing, take it down to the Grill where the school loafers gather in the morning, and don't let yourself be caught with it.\"\nA cigarette in your mouth on the street or in the dormitories. Some teachers may not be so considerate as I have been.' He was quite stern about it all, and I hardly smoked at all after that. Of course, since I've been out for track I couldn't do it, anyway.\n\n\"That is certainly a funny story. It's queer what simpletons we can be,\" said Dutch, smiling to himself. \"I had played soccer in Holland when I was just a kid, and I thought I was pretty good. Of course, I joined the soccer squad and might have made the team if I could have kept off 'non-ex.' But even when all hope of that was gone, I used to keep on practicing. One afternoon, a good-looking chap came up to me and said, 'What are you kicking in that ridiculous way for?' I was a little bit hot for the moment, and, before I knew it, I had challenged him to a match.\"\n\n186 THE ANDOVER WAY\n\n(Note: The text appears to be complete and does not require cleaning. However, if there are any OCR errors, they are not apparent in this excerpt.)\nI thought, I answered, \"None of your business, you big stiff!\" As soon as I had spoken, I remembered that the fellow was Roscoe Dale, one of the new teachers just out of college. He was so thunderstruck that he couldn't even speak; and finally he just flushed up and walked away. After the practice was over, I went around to his room and apologized. Do you know, he told me that he felt so much complimented at being taken for a schoolboy that he wasn't really mad at all. Dutch's gifts as a story-teller did not keep him from having trouble with his school work. He was very well endowed mentally, and a psychological test would have shown him to be above average of his classmates; but he was repeatedly becoming absorbed in some outside activity and neglecting his less-alluring daily tasks. For one term, he was fascinated with organ-playing.\nAnd he commenced taking lessons under Dr. Schleiermacher, but he practised so assiduously that he flunked all his courses at Christmas and was promptly placed on probation, known by the students as \"Pro.\" Shortly after came the terrifying interview with the Head, which is the inevitable accompaniment of a vote of probation by the faculty.\n\n\"Well, young man,\" said the Head, as he saw Von Bernuth enter his office, \"what will your father say when he receives this last unsatisfactory report of yours?\"\n\n\"I don't know, sir. He may order me to return home right away, but I hope not.\"\n\n\"He may behave like the Chinese Government. Last year one of our Chinese boys, Cheng, had a very poor record in his studies, and I had to write an official notification to the authorities who sent him here on a national fund. About a month ago, they came and took him away.\"\nI received a reply to the effect: Send home the criminal Cheng immediately at our expense, and we will have him beheaded. They would have done it as well, and I'm not sure the same kind of rough justice isn't what you deserve. Dutch assumed one of his characteristic plain smiles and replied, \"I'd rather keep my head for the present, if you don't mind, sir. The trouble is that there are so many diversions to lead one away from his work. I keep wanting to try some new game, like chess, and the first thing I know, I get an 'F' in History. But I'll agree to reform if you'll only let me have one more trial.\"\n\n\"Very well, Von Bernuth,\" responded the Head, who, in his broad humanity, could not help sympathizing deeply with the lad. \"But just remember this \u2014 we can't continue forever making exceptions.\"\ning  allowances  for  you  just  because  you  come \nfrom  a  foreign  land.  You  are  bright  enough  when \nyou  settle  down  to  business.  Your  motto  ought \nto  be,  \u2018  When  I  became  a  man,  I  put  away  child\u00ac \nish  things.\u2019  Now  you\u2019d  better  enter  at  once  on \na  new  period  of  your  life, \u2014 turn  over  a  new  leaf, \nas  we  say  here  in  America.  I  don\u2019t  want  to  have \nyou  called  before  me  again.\u201d \n\u201c  I  don\u2019t  want  to  come  again,  either,\u201d  replied \nDutch,  \u201c  at  least  on  this  kind  of  an  errand.\u201d \nFor  the  benefit  of  those  who  do  not  know \nDutch,  it  ought  to  be  said  that  he  did  finally \ngraduate  with  his  class  from  Andover,  but  only \nbecause  two  or  three  of  his  instructors  were  af\u00ac \nflicted  with  an  attack  of  generosity  just  as  the \nyear  closed. \nYoung  Von  Bernuth  was  only  one  of  many  in\u00ac \nteresting  men  whom  Oscar  was  learning  to  know. \nIt  is  probable  that  Oscar,  when  he  entered  An\u00ac \nDover was not altogether free from superciliousness. He had always associated with well-groomed people who observed the same rules of etiquette and used the same precise idiom. Now he was thrown among fellows representing every rank of society and every sort of breeding. In his English class, he had on his right the heir to one of the largest fortunes in the United States \u2013 a shy, inconspicuous boy with an insignificant personality, who never spoke unless he had to and exerted no influence whatever in the school. On Oscar\u2019s left was a black-eyed, red-cheeked, talkative little lad named Sassoferrato, the son of a Sicilian emigrant. He once told Oscar that, in the evenings and on holidays, he worked in his uncle's fruit store in Lawrence; and his ambition was\nOscar was determined to become a lawyer and serve in the legislature. Between the millionaire's son and the emigrant's child, Oscar would have chosen the latter as his companion based on any choice of criteria.\n\nOn several occasions, Oscar took a dislike to someone due to their voice, necktie, or some peculiar personal habit. Later, when he grew better acquainted with them, Oscar became aware that the offensive attribute was merely superficial, having no relation whatsoever to the soul underneath. One or two incidents taught Oscar that he must be very careful not to judge others too hastily or on insufficient evidence.\n\nThere was human material of every conceivable kind in Andover. It was like life itself, with identically the same cross-sections that may be found in any small city\u2014thriftier and improvident.\nOscar was aggressive and indolent, liberal and mean, intelligent and stupid. There were little cliques of various kinds - of \"sports,\" athletes, musicians, of \"fussers,\" writers. It was advisable, Oscar discovered, to go slow before aligning himself with any one group; and, as a matter of fact, he never allowed himself to become too closely identified with one more than another.\n\nIndeed, when he came to think things over, he found that his friends were of many different kinds. There was an American Indian, named Jernigan, with the high cheekbones and copper color of his race, who was a skilled baseball player and undeniably the best actor in the academy. In native dignity and physical attractiveness, Jernigan was superior to most of the white students. Oscar saw him frequently, and enjoyed nothing more than talking with him regarding the treatment of natives.\nHis people were widened by the United States Government. Then there was a dapper little Central American, Ramon Cortez, of Spanish ancestry and haughty bearing, who had a reputation for untold wealth and justified it by the luxury of his apartments and the money he spent on clothes. His harmless escapades with young ladies were diverting to his friends, especially as he was a little bit inclined to boast about his conquests. There was one boy, Leslie Ascham, who had spent his childhood in Egypt, almost under the shadow of the Sphinx and the Pyramids, and another who had been born and brought up in Jerusalem, within sight of the Mount of Olives. Near these were lean and nasal New Englanders, who had never been across the Hudson River. There were Southerners from Alabama and Texas and Kentucky, with soft voices and gentle ways,\nThe stalwart young men from Western ranches were fiery in temper when aroused. There were strong, young men from the West, who had always lived in the open. There were, of course, Chinese and Japanese, meeting each other a little suspiciously at first, but often playing together on the same soccer team as if their countries had been friendly for a century. There was an Italian, Dannunzio, who admitted that he was over twenty-five and who was a fully-ordained clergyman in a parish not far from Anover Hill. He preached sermons before his Italian congregation on Sundays and then came back to his classroom work in Andover on Monday morning, indefatigable in his passion for an education more fitted to his profession.\n\nOne of the oddest characters was \u201cTony\u201d Levy, a Polish Jew from Boston's North End. Day after day, he failed in his recitation.\nHe regularly came up smiling for the next attempt, and once said to Oscar, in his indistinct guttural utterance, \"Do you know how they let me into Andover? I was so dense in my studies in grammar school and so full of deviltry that each teacher wanted to get rid of me. So, every one kept promoting me to get me out of the way, and before long I was in the top class. Then I came here and broke all records by covering four years in one. They registered me as a senior last fall because Mr. Lynton said that I ought to be there on the basis of my high-school diploma. I kept dropping back at each rating, until now I'm in the lowest class, with 'kids' of fourteen and fifteen, \u2014 and I'm twenty-four. Probably at Easter the faculty will bounce me out. That's what I deserve, for I can't seem to widen my horizon.\nAny man can learn from books. But I suppose I have too many peasant ancestors for that. However, I bet no other man here has traveled backwards so far in such a short time. In the course of his observations, Oscar came to the conclusion that any man with an honest purpose, no matter how eccentric he might be, was respected by the undergraduates. The student who did not get along was the \"smart Alec,\" the one who was \"fresh\" and thought he knew it all. The cardinal sin in a \"prep,\" for instance, was \"freshness.\" Uncouthness, vulgarity, effeminacy \u2014 these were drawbacks, but they could be forgiven. \"Freshness,\" never!\n\nWhen he tried to define \"freshness,\" he found it rather difficult. Talking too much, sneering at school customs, wearing \"loud\" clothes \u2014 these were all signs of \"freshness,\" but there were also others. The secret of which Oscar could never penetrate.\nWhat he saw was that a reputation for \"freshness\" was exceedingly hard to outgrow. There were many men who never fully recovered prestige after some foolish blunder committed inadvertently during the early weeks of the course. Through talks with men like Steve Fisher and Hal Manning, who represented the best element in the undergraduate body, Oscar was led into further ambitions, the achievement of which would demonstrate his versatility. When the call for the Dramatic Club came, Oscar, who was familiar with the theatre, determined to present himself as a candidate. The try-out consisted merely of the reading of a part assigned by the coach, \"Hook\" Edwards, one of the English instructors. When his turn came, Oscar delivered with passionate fervor the tragic last speech of Othello, beginning:\n\n\"If I have told you I have travelled in my dreams,\nAnd touched the shy, elusive, cloud-capp'd towers,\nAnd seen the beautiful and moral sun,\nIf to do so, I have seemed to shake off from my body\nThe rude imperious hand of Time;\nIf I have ransack'd the secret vaults of nature,\nAnd opened that eternal book, where all our records are,\nAnd read the first and last words of man,\nThen, now, at this black moment, I would my soul were sunk\nIn the lowest deep, if then I might be he\nWhom she shall make her politics,\nSwear these things to her, and grant her wish,\nI would, my soul, but that I cannot save thee.\"\n\"I have done the state some service, and they know it. No more of that. As he concluded with the words, \u201cAnd smote him thus! \u201d Oscar gave himself an imaginary stab and sank limp and lifeless to the floor, to the delight of his auditors, who did not hesitate to applaud vigorously. Oscar was not ordinarily conceited, but he was now convinced that he had the genius of a Walter Hampden, and he was sure that he could make a hit on any stage. The following morning, he was overjoyed to read in the Phillipian that he had been assigned a part. He was on time to the second that evening when Mr. Edwards met the successful competitors. In announcing the various roles, Mr. Edwards spoke briefly on their significance: Of course Jernigan will be the hero. He\u2019s the\"\nbest actor in school, the only one who can do the part decently. As for you, Harris, I'm going to use you as Dr. Dryasdust, the funny college professor. It ought to fit you perfectly.\n\nBut, Mr. Edwards, objected Oscar, injured in his pride, I'm not a humorous actor. I never took a comic part in my life. My bent is towards tragedy.\n\nThat doesn't make any difference, Harris, replied Mr. Edwards. You're tall and thin and wear spectacles, and are rather funny-looking. All you'll have to do is be natural.\n\nThere was a wave of laughter in the room, and Oscar blushed a brilliant scarlet. But - he began.\n\nBut me no 'buts, ' said Mr. Edwards, in mock cajolery. Be a good sport! You're chosen by unanimous agreement of the judges, and you'll make the sensation of the evening. You won't have to do a thing but be yourself. We'll add a\n\n(if necessary: \"costume and make-up to help you get into character\")\n\"few delicate touches to your costume, and the house will scream itself hoarse.\"\n198 THE ANDover way\n\nOscar had reason to feel that this was a dubious compliment. He had expected to be assigned a role like that of Hamlet or Romeo. Indeed, he had seen John Barrymore as the \"melancholy Dane\" in New York during the holidays and noticed what he thought to be a similarity between himself and that tragedian. When he told this to his Uncle Henry, the latter said, \"The only resemblance I can see is in the legs \u2014 you're both skinny! \" Nevertheless, Oscar persisted in his delusion, and now he was inclined to resign from the club. But, after the meeting was over, Mr. Edwards, who was kind-hearted as well as sharp-tongued, stopped him and spoke to him in a sympathetic way.\n\n\"Look here, Harris,\" he said. \"There's more merit in being a good comedian than in being a tragic actor.\"\nYou have a talent for burlesque with no vestige for tragedy. Why not accept the facts and do your best as Dr. Dryasdust's fool? I'll do anything you want, but I hate making a display of myself as a fool, Oscar replied in a tone of resignation. We're all fools at one time or another, Oscar. Some of us, who have chosen teaching as a profession, have spent our lives being ridiculed. After all, you'll make a mighty entertaining fool! That's something to be considered! Oscar accepted this tribute with the best possible grace and went off in a happier mood. A little serious reflection induced him to decide to do his best in the part assigned to him. For a month or more, during the stormy February evenings, he studied his lines until he actually became the fool.\nOscar took a keen interest in the character he was portraying. The performance, given in March at the new auditorium, resulted in him being applauded more than Jernigan and required him to appear before the curtain several times. In the next Phillipian, Oscar was pleased to read a critique of the play written by his English teacher, Mr. Loring, who said:\n\n\"The most finished acting of the evening was done by Harris, who made the character of Dr. Dryasdust come alive for the audience. It's a pleasure to see an undergraduate grasp the subtlety of a part like this and present it so intelligently. Harris's interpretation was the successful product of intelligence and wise instruction.\"\n\nOscar's unfortunate experiences with secret societies during the fall term had made him wary of any involvement.\nHe had resolved to drive references to society men from his mind. It was evident that students who deliberately tried to get into the good graces of society men seldom succeeded in their aim. Determined to keep steadfastly on his way, regardless of what fraternities might mean in undergraduate life, Oscar's rehearsals on the Dramatic Club threw him into intimate contact with Hal Manning. Hal had called frequently at his room, once or twice bringing other fellows with him. The conversation on these occasions was very general, and Oscar attached no significance whatever to it. He recalled later, however, that Hal had asked him a few questions regarding his family and his life abroad. Things came to a climax on one March evening when Hal said to him, \"Oscar, I suppose you have been in Europe a long time?\"\n\"told you that your father was K.P.N here?\", \"Yes, I knew it because Mother gave me his pin, and I\u2019ve always kept it\", \"How would you like to join that crowd yourself?\", \"Say, Hal, are you planning to initiate me into another fraternal organization? I should think once with you would be enough. It is for me!\", \"No, this is serious. I don\u2019t blame you much for shying, but really, Oscar, you\u2019ve changed a good deal since last September, you know. We all want you, and you\u2019ll be in the crowd with Steve Fisher and me. Besides, I should think that you would like to go the way your dad went.\", \"I do, Hal. But you\u2019ve got to admit that this invitation is just a little sudden. I can\u2019t get used to the fact that you and Steve want me in\", \"Then you\u2019ll give us your pledge?\", \"If you\u2019re being straight with me, I certainly will.\"\nIt's the only society I should ever join. But if this is another joke, I'll never forgive you. It was no joke. Before the term was over, Oscar had been formally initiated, this time without a river bath, and was wearing the jewelled pin of K.P.N., the same symbol which his father had been proud to display. Oscar was glad to realize that there were those among his comrades who had confidence in him and his future. He accepted the honor as evidence of his progress towards maturity.\n\nThe Andover Way\n\nOne morning during the week while Oscar was running for the society, Ted Sherman, who was a member of Q.M.C., met Hal Manning on the street.\n\n\"Hi, Hal,\u201d he shouted. \u201cSay, who's this Harris you're taking into that punk society of yours? \u201d\n\n\"Why, it's Oscar Harris, the relay team man, a good deal better fellow than anybody in your club,\" Hal replied.\n\"wretched gang of shysters.\" \"Oscar Harris! I know him, of course. But isn't he the same chap we saw last fall when he was entering, and didn't you and I claim there was nothing in him? \"\"Sure, that's right, we did!\" answered Hal, recalling the incident. \"And you wanted to bet twenty-five dollars that he wouldn't last over Christmas! \"\"I remember. Well, something must have happened to him, or else you K.P.N. men are drawing a blank.\" \"\"No, he's a real fellow. He's changed tremendously in six months. Even Steve admits that he's a presentable kind of person now.\" \"Well,\" said Ted, as he started on his way, \"I'm going to retract all that I ever said about the influence of Andover. If it can make Oscar Harris into a normal human being, it can do anything. Steve was right. The fellow had good potential.\"\nIt was while he was rehearsing for the annual dramatic performance that Oscar was accidentally involved in an affair, which gave him some publicity with the authorities and seemed likely at one time to terminate his Andover career. Around quarter to eight one evening, when it was already quite dark, he discovered that he had left his Latin Composition book in his seat in Pearson Hall and rushed out of his dormitory, without troubling to put on an overcoat, in the hope that he might be able to get it. Rather to his relief, the door of the recitation hall proved to be unlocked, and dashing up-stairs to Professor Foster's classroom on the top floor, he quickly picked up the volume which he had left behind.\n\nCHAPTER IX\nTHE HERO IS UNDER SUSPICION\n\nOne evening, while rehearsing for the annual dramatic performance, Oscar was accidentally involved in an incident that brought him attention from the authorities and nearly ended his Andover career. Around 7:45 PM, when it was already dark, he realized he had left his Latin Composition book in Pearson Hall. He hurried out of his dormitory without putting on a coat and found the recitation hall door unlocked. Rushing up to Professor Foster's classroom on the top floor, he quickly retrieved his book.\nHe missed them. As he stepped back into the corridor, he had a fleeting glimpse of two figures rushing rapidly down the stairs. Although the shadows there were thick, he was sure he recognized them as two students who sat near him in his Virgil section. He shouted, \"Hello, there!\", but there was no reply, except from the reverberating echoes from wall to wall. Somewhat startled at these apparitions, Oscar turned back to the classroom which he had left, pressed the electric-light button, looked around to make sure no one was concealed there, and even investigated the little conference-room connected with it. Nothing could he see or hear! In his bewilderment, he did not think of inspecting Professor Bannard's room at the other end of the building, but decided to retreat as soon as possible.\nA man had descended from the stairs, but found the outside door locked. He paused for reflection, sensing something mysterious and disturbing outside. In a minute or two, he entered a ground-floor classroom, unlatching a window and letting himself down six or seven feet to the earth. Just as he thought himself safe, he was tapped on the shoulder by a night watchman in uniform.\n\n\"Ah, young man,\" the officer of the law sternly asked, \"what are you doing leaving this building in such a stealthy manner?\"\nOscar explained, \"I was just looking for a textbook I left behind.\" He hesitated to mention the two figures he had seen.\n\n\"Well, I suppose it's all right,\" grumbled the policeman. \"But something is fishy about this. I find the door open, lock it up, and then you come shooting out of a window. I'll just take down your name in case there's any trouble later. I have to fulfill my duty.\" He took out a notebook, wrote down Oscar's name and address, \"Wendell Hall,\" and put the memorandum back in his pocket.\n\n\"Run along now, or you'll be marked out,\" he said kindly. \"It's almost eight o'clock and the last bell is ringing.\"\n\nOscar swiftly returned to the dormitory and spent the remainder of the evening poring over it.\nThe Latin textbook caused him much annoyance, and then he went to sleep. Troubled sleep haunted him, with spectres of weird shape and color approaching from a lighted door. He awoke in the morning ready to forget the entire incident. But at chapel, after the customary prayer, hymn, and Bible-reading, the Head stood up behind the pulpit with an unusually serious expression on his face and spoke to the school:\n\n\"Gentlemen, I don't often have to complain in this place about any deliberate mischievous and destructive acts on the part of the students at Andover. Regardless of the prevalence of banditry and lawlessness in cities, I have been sure that no such spirit exists here on this Hill. But something happened last night so outrageous that I must dwell upon it for a moment. A vandal...\"\nThe Head made a profound impact with his words, as intended. He spoke about the individual who broke into Pearson Hall and vandalized Professor Bannard's valuable Greek statue, a reproduction costing over two hundred dollars. This was not an act of a harmless prankster but of a malicious mind. The Head assured that a thorough investigation would be conducted, and anyone involved should confess. He understood, tolerated, and even condoned childish pranks, but the destruction of valuable property was unacceptable.\nThe most popular topic of conversation during the day. The broken fragments of the statue had been collected in the classroom where the unharmed figure had once adorned it. Little clusters of boys gathered round them to see what damage had been done. Oscar himself sat in his room to think out what had occurred on that fatal night. It occurred to him at once that he would probably be called as a witness \u2013 the watchman would surely report his name. But in his innocence, he never dreamed that he might himself fall under suspicion. At his eleven o'clock class, he was handed a note from the office ordering him to report without delay to the Head. As it was Oscar's first summons of this nature, he was very much perturbed. Without notifying his instructor or confiding in anyone, he left precipitately and ran to George Washington Hall.\nThe Head's Secretary asked Oscar to wait in seating him for a moment. In a short time, Ted Sherman appeared, seeing Oscar among the mourners. He said, \"The Head's in a roaring mood this morning. If you're going in there, prepare to be chewed alive. All I've done is get caught out of my dorm, and you might think I had committed arson.\"\n\nWhen Oscar was ushered into the room, he could see that the Head was not in an amiable mood.\n\n\"Good-morning, Harris,\" he began, in quick, incisive words sharper than Oscar had ever heard him use before. \"I am told that you were seen climbing out of one of the windows in Pearson Hall last evening just before eight o'clock.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, I was.\"\n\n\"Were you concerned, then, with the mutilation of the statue in Professor Bannard's room?\"\n\n\"No, sir, I was not.\"\n\"What! You weren't in the building at that unusual hour? How then do you explain your presence there? I had gone back for my Latin Composition textbook, which I had left there by mistake in the afternoon. How did you get in? I found the door unlocked, sir. The door had been locked while I was upstairs, the night watchman having found it open when he made his inspection. Of course, I couldn't get through it. Hm! said the Head, in a quandary. Your story has some plausibility. But you will admit that it would ordinarily sound suspicious, and that it is even more so in view of what is known to have happened in that building last evening.\"\n\"Yes, sir, I can see your point of view. But I didn't, sir. I didn't. The facts are precisely as I have stated them.\n\nIn spite of your declaration, Harris, we shall have to investigate your statement carefully, announced the Head, concluding the interview. So far, you are unfortunately the only one who could possibly have been implicated in the affair.\n\nVery well, sir, said Oscar, who could only with difficulty restrain his tears. I merely wish to tell you again that I had nothing whatever to do with the breaking of the statue and that I am quite willing to submit to any kind of investigation which you desire to make. An innocent person ought not to be alarmed by any ordeal like that.\"\n\nAs he said this, Oscar looked the Head in the eye.\nThe Head's straightforward and manly gaze left him much impressed. Initially, upon hearing from the night watchman about Oscar's unusual exit from Pearson Hall, he assumed it was a prank. Given Oscar's former reputation for \"queerness,\" he concluded this was another indication of his oddity. However, as he listened to Oscar's declaration and observed his demeanor, he was convinced in his heart that there must be an error somewhere.\n\n\"My boy,\" he said, standing up and placing his hand on Oscar's shoulder, \"when you came in here, I had no doubt whatever that you were guilty. But I'm bound to admit that I now believe your story implicitly. If you are telling me the truth...\"\nA falsehood, then I'm no judge of character. The trouble is that all the evidence is so much against you, and there seems to be no one else to suspect. While the Head was speaking in this friendly fashion, Oscar was thinking of the two figures he had seen on the stairs. Six months before, he would have blurted out the story; now he had learned better, and he merely continued to listen.\n\n\"You go out now, Harris,\" concluded the Head. \"Don't worry at all. If I need you, I'll call you in later.\"\n\nOscar went out of the room and down the steps thoughtfully, his hands in his pockets and his mind intent on the problem in which he was so strangely involved. When he reached Wendell Hall, he described the interview to Bull, giving him also an account of what had happened on the previous evening; but he held back, even from Bull.\nBefore the day was over, most of the school knew that Oscar Harris, the runner, was under suspicion and might be \"fired.\" Small knots of fellows gathered here and there on the campus to talk it all over. There was a general feeling among the undergraduates that Oscar couldn't possibly be the miscreant, and men whom he hardly knew stopped him just to say, \"Tough luck, kiddo! I don't believe a word of it. It'll come out all right.\"\n\nA famous member of the New York police force had recently lectured to the school on the finger-print method of identifying criminals and had shown slides filled with mystifying whorls and curves. It was currently reported that tell-tale finger marks had been found on some of the statue fragments, and every boy in the academy was under suspicion.\nmy would be obliged to have his prints taken. It was rumored that three detectives had been engaged to prowl about in the dormitories hunting for evidence. Boys who were familiar with \"Sherlock Holmes,\" \"Monsieur Dupin,\" and \"Lecoq\" scented an opportunity to carry on some amateur sleuth work. There was excitement in the air like that before an Andover-Exeter game. When Oscar had leisure later on that evening to meditate on the facts, he let his memory carry him back to the moment when he had watched the two figures rushing down to the floor below, as if engaged on some nefarious business. One he was sure was \"Phil\" Timian; the other he thought was \"Miff\" Stanley. Both belonged to what was known as a \"fast crowd.\" Phil had an unpleasant fox-like face, with freckles and sandy hair.\nand Shifty had blue, shifty eyes. Miff was of a different type. He had round, moon-like features, chubby cheeks, and a perpetual grin or leer, making him resemble a guileless cherub incapable of any deviltry or deceit. The two were invariably together, and, as the students knew, their comradeship was seldom for good. Neither one was depraved nor debauched, but no one cared to trust them very far. They had acquired a reputation for being sly and underhanded, and fellows like Steve Fisher and Joe Watson utterly despised them. Oscar had not met either Phil or Miff that morning \u2013 in fact, he knew them only slightly \u2013 but he couldn't help wishing he could have a frank talk with one or both of them and ascertain the truth. The more consideration he gave to the matter, the more certain he became that the two must know all about the affair, even if they had not been involved.\nFor two or three days, the topic of conversation at the \"Beanery\" and in the Grill was \"Who broke up the statue?\" When Oscar slipped into one of the booths at the Grill for supper, hoping to escape his well-meaning friends at the Dining Hall, he was assailed with queries by every passer-by. \"What did the Head say to you?\" \"Are you going to be 'fired' Oscar?\" and \"Got any fresh dope to-night?\" He did his best to avoid the subject, but everybody was eager for information.\n\nOn the next morning, he came unexpectedly upon Phil and Miff talking and gesticulating very earnestly behind the Main Building and hastened to accost them. But they turned and walked away so rapidly that he could not follow without giving the impression of pursuing them, which he did not care at that time.\nIn the chapel, they deliberately avoided Oscar. Once, when Oscar unexpectedly confronted Miff around a corner, Miff's complacent grin was replaced by a frightened expression. These incidents convinced Oscar that he was well acquainted with the perpetrators of the outrage.\n\nThe following afternoon, Oscar was summoned once more to the office \u2013 this time into the presence of the Head and the members of the faculty discipline committee. When he was questioned, he persisted in his original account of what had occurred on that momentous evening.\n\nFinally, when the cross-examination was over and Oscar sat back in relief, the Head asked in a casual way, \"Harris, did you see anyone in or near Pearson Hall that night?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, I did.\"\n\n\"Who was it?\"\nI'm sorry that I can't tell you, sir.\nWhat do you mean? Nothing, except that I must decline to tell you whom I saw on that evening.\nDo you realize, Harris, that you may be expelled from Andover for being connected with this unfortunate episode? Yes, sir, I do, but I cannot bring evidence against my fellow students.\nSo it was one of your fellow students whom you saw? inquired the Head, suavely following the \"lead\" that had been given.\nOscar was much chagrined at his carelessness in revealing this detail and made up his mind to watch his tongue. I'm really sorry, sir, that I can't answer any more questions, he said with a slight stammer. If it is necessary for me to be punished for an offense in which I had no share, I'll accept the verdict. But please allow me to withdraw.\nI think we can excuse you now, Harris, if you wish to go. But I trust that you will reconsider your decision.\n\nWithout daring to say another word, Oscar bowed silently and left the room, leaving the puzzled committee to talk over the situation.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" resumed the Head when the door had closed, \"that lad is as innocent as you or I. He is simply obsessed by that quaint schoolboy idea of honor which forbids him to 'peach' on a 'pa.' With him, loyalty to a comrade has become one of the major virtues.\"\n\n\"That's really strange,\" remarked Mr. Loring. \"Didn't I ever tell you that Harris was the youth who tried to tell me last fall that someone was cribbing in my examination? He was honestly astonished when I wouldn't listen to him.\"\n\n\"Well, someone has taught him the value of loyalty.\"\nMr. Foxcroft said, \"He has adhered to his principles since then. He is unyielding at this moment. We can all acknowledge that, despite his past behavior.\"\n\nProfessor Foster commented, \"I believe his current attitude represents a higher ethical stage. What about you, sir? What are your views on this delicate question of morals?\"\n\nThe Head answered, \"I won't express my opinion. But I know what I would do if I were in Harris's position.\"\n\nProfessor Foster added, \"We all do.\" And the committee continued with their business.\n\nAs a result of their debate, which continued until late into the night, the Head addressed the undergraduates the following morning:\nI'm sorry that the person responsible for mutilating Professor Bannard's statue has not confessed. The faculty have accumulated evidence against one member of the school who is known to have been in Pearson Hall on that evening. This man admits having seen at least one of his schoolmates in the building but refuses to disclose his name. We have discovered fingerprints on the statue fragments, which have been carefully preserved by a specialist and which are indubitably those of the offender or offenders. Unless the guilty persons appear before me within twenty-four hours, I shall be obliged to ask every member of the undergraduate body to have his fingerprints taken by an expert. I intend to run this matter down, regardless of trouble or cost. I sincerely hope that the guilty parties will come forward.\n\"hope those who are culpable will have the courage and honesty to make themselves known. Oscar glanced in Phil Timian's direction and noticed he seemed red and nervous. After chapel, Oscar watched as he joined Miff Stanley and strolled with him slowly up to the Main Building, evidently concerned with serious problems. At last, Phil, seeing Oscar behind him, halted with his companion, and the two waited side by side for Oscar to come along.\n\n\"Hello, Harris,\" began Phil with a cordiality which did not have the ring of sincerity. \"It has been mighty white of you not to tell on us. You must have recognized us right away. We saw you clearly enough, and we've been worried ever since. And you could have \u2018squealed\u2019 on us at any time.\"\n\n\"Well, what are you two going to do?\" inquired Oscar.\"\n\"Oscar told him, \"That's what seems important to me. It strikes me that it will improve things if you own up and take your punishment. You are bound to be caught sooner or later.\"\n\n\"Aw, I don't believe it,\" Phil replied with a snarl. \"I don't want to be 'fired' any more than you do. My Dad would put me to work in a store or throw me out into the street \u2013 I don't know which. Besides, this talk about fingerprints is all 'bunk.' They haven't any clue to go on.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't be too certain of that,\" Oscar answered. \"The faculty know pretty well what they are doing. Besides, you ought to be men enough to own up.\"\n\nThe Oscar who was speaking in this resolute tone was a very different boy from the Alfred Tennyson Harris who had come with his mother to Andover in the previous September.\n\n\"Look here, Harris,\" pleaded Miff. \"\n\n(Note: The text appears to be complete and does not require cleaning beyond minor corrections for readability. However, since the instruction is to output the entire cleaned text without any additional comments or prefix/suffix, the text as is will suffice.)\"\n\n\"Oscar told Phil, 'That's what seems important to me. It strikes me that it will improve things if you own up and take your punishment. You are bound to be caught sooner or later.'\n\n'Aw, I don't believe it,' Phil replied with a snarl. 'I don't want to be 'fired' any more than you do. My Dad would put me to work in a store or throw me out into the street \u2013 I don't know which. Besides, this talk about fingerprints is all 'bunk.' They haven't any clue to go on.'\n\n'I shouldn't be too certain of that,' Oscar answered. 'The faculty know pretty well what they are doing. Besides, you ought to be men enough to own up.'\n\nThe Oscar who was speaking in this resolute tone was a very different boy from the Alfred Tennyson Harris who had come with his mother to Andover in the previous September.\n\n'Look here, Harris,' pleaded Miff.\"\n\"It wasn't anything more than a kid trick. There was nothing criminal about it. Why should there be so much excitement over an old statue? \"Well, it's likely to cost Jove Bannard or the Trustees some money to replace the thing. I don't care what you do. I've been accused of being the one who did it, and you're making me the goat. Is it playing fair with me? \"That's what I keep telling him,\" said Miff. \"If you weren't mixed up in it and hadn't been so decent, I wouldn't care what happened.\" HE IS UNDER SUSPICION\n\n\"It's easy enough to advise anybody to confess, but it's a lot harder to do it.\"\n\n\"I'll go with you if you like,\" suggested Oscar.\n\n\"No, I'm not ready yet,\" said Phil. \"I can't\"\nOscar ran off to class, saying \"All right! But the longer you wait, the worse it will be. It's like having a tooth pulled. Go quick and get the agony over.\"\n\nOscar arrived tardy for his English class and was so busy for the rest of the morning that he gave the conversation no further thought. But on his way to lunch, he saw the Head a short distance away and went to meet him.\n\n\"Well, Harris,\" the Head said in his usual buoyant mood, \"you'll be glad to hear that we have found out who did the damage. Timian and Stanley have just been spending an hour in my office. I am delighted to announce that you are completely exonerated.\"\n\n\"What about them, sir? Will they have to be punished?\"\nI'm afraid that the faculty cannot let them go without some form of punishment. What would you do with them? With this query, the Head looked innocently at Oscar. I don't know, sir. But I can guarantee that they're terrified sufficiently. I'll bet that they would reform if you could let them back. We can hardly do that just now, in view of the stir which they have caused, but perhaps, if they make a good record somewhere else between now and June, I may be able to persuade the faculty to let them return in the fall. We'll see. Within a few hours, Phil and Miff had packed their trunks and taken the train for Boston, on their way to their respective homes. Before they left, however, they came to Oscar's room and said a rather shamefaced good-bye! It was a fool stunt to do, admitted Miff.\n\"But we have no complaint. I hope I'll get another chance next year,\" said Harris. \"Yes, you've been a brick, Harris. Some day I may be able to pay you,\" added Phil. For his part, Oscar was glad that the incident was closed. He had had a narrow escape, one which made him shudder to think about. By this time, he had made up his mind that Andover was the finest school on earth.\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE HERO IS TRIED BY FIRE\n\nIn any young man's development, there are times when he seems to be making progress in leaps and bounds, mentally and spiritually as well as physically. Alfred Tennyson Harris, although not entirely conscious of it himself, had been going through such a period since his arrival in Andover. Freed from his mother's narrowing restraint, he had taken advantage of all the opportunities offered to him,\nAnd, by meeting his responsibility, he had become independent. In his appearance, he was, of course, much altered. His head was more erect, his bearing was more manly, and he was in robust health. Once, in midwinter, Mr. Slater, the Treasurer, met him on the street and said, \"Good-morning, Harris. Has the Dining Hall food turned you into skin and bone?\" \"Not exactly, sir. I've gained nearly twenty pounds since last September. That's doing pretty well, isn't it?\" \"I thought that you had put on weight. But don't you remember how you came to me to complain about the 'Beanery' food and the lack of delicacies, like jellies and pastries?\" \"I was certainly a fool, sir. The only fault I find with it now is that there isn't enough raw meat!\" \"You're prepared to recommend it, then, are you, Harris?\"\n\"Yes, and I'm ready to show myself as a living example of what it can do for a habitue of Paris restaurants. Mr. Slater smiled and went on, quite satisfied with the recantation of the former critic. And there were other changes which Oscar might have mentioned as indicative of his improved condition. To his amazement, he hardly had a cold all winter - he, who had become accustomed to staying in bed ill for weeks at a time with minor infections, such as sore throats and earaches. His power of resisting germs had increased, and he seldom now had even a headache. He might have been picked out at any time by Dr. Rogers as a specimen of perfect health. Mentally, the boy was steadily growing more mature. As he was drawn more and more into athletics, he had less time to devote to reading.\"\nHe bought many new books and discovered his fine physical condition enabled him to get through his classroom preparation in less time than before. Mr. Loring suggested he enter the competition for the Brooks-Bryce Prize, awarded to the best article by an Andover student on friendly Anglo-American relations. The prize was a large silver cup presented by a generous New York lady interested in international affairs. Oscar did not take the suggestion seriously at first, but one day in the library he came across a shelf of reference books on the assigned topic and became fascinated by its line of thought. He was led on gradually to more exhaustive study.\nThe librarian, Miss Snow, was astonished after completing three thousand words of his research. He had it typewritten and submitted under an assumed name. The running practice grew more strenuous around this time, causing Oscar to forget about his essay.\n\nOn the Sunday afternoon before Washington's Birthday, there was a special vesper service in the chapel to commemorate the occasion. At this time, a professor from Harvard University delivered an address. The Head then announced the winner of the Brooks-Bryce Prize. He stated the contest terms and thanked the donor before announcing that the judges, three members of the faculty, had awarded the trophy to the essay signed \"Vera, the Dancer.\"\n\nThere was some laughter at this peculiar nom de plume.\nplume and then Oscar, the most surprised man in the chapel, walked down the long aisle to receive the cup. There was tremendous applause from the student body, for Oscar had just been relieved from the suspicion of having injured the statue, and everybody was aware of his efforts to shield the real malefactors. The Head smiled as he handed the huge trophy to the winner; and Oscar grinned broadly in return. As he made his way back to his seat, the clapping redoubled. It was evidently a popular award.\n\nA few days later, Mr. Loring called him up after class and asked, \"Harris, have you ever had any special training in writing?\"\n\n\"No, sir. I once had a tutor who had some reputation as a biographer, and he told me some devices for building up a composition. Then my mother has a fair style.\"\n\"she has given me a little instruction. \"Well, so far as I can see, you have a natural gift for this kind of thing, and you have made a steady improvement. I hope that you'll be able to keep it up.\" \"It all depends on what I'm best fitted for, doesn't it? When Dad was alive, he always wanted me to be a lawyer, but so far I have no leaning towards that. \"There's plenty of time yet, of course. But I thought I would let you know how I feel. \"Thanks very much, sir. You're the first teacher who ever told me that he was satisfied with what I did. It helps. \"Oh, I'm not satisfied. You can do better still. But I do want you to feel encouraged. And, by the way, do you know that your winning essay will be sent in for the national competition among the successful essays from the various schools? It\"\nI. Oscar had a good chance for first place, I think. If you get it, you\u2019ll have another gigantic cup and a free trip to Europe.\n\nII. \"Well, I shall not even think about it until the track season is over. And that's not until the close of school.\" With this remark, Oscar dismissed the matter from his mind for many weeks to come.\n\nIII. The indications of Oscar's physical and mental progress were, perhaps, more obvious than those of his character development. Yet to those familiar with the facts, it was evident that Oscar had won the respect of his associates. Starting under an immense handicap, he had become a popular senior, and his room had become a place to which many fellows liked to come. It was not decorated, like so many, with school and college banners, photographs of beautiful \"chorines,\" and advertising signs picked up on adventurous journeys.\nraids. There were tapestries in conspicuous places, and some extra pieces of furniture had been installed to supplement the standard equipment provided by the school. There were even sets of classic authors in fine bindings \u2013 Stevenson, Hardy, Anatole France, Arthur Machen, and Hugh Walpole \u2013 a strange and interesting assortment, displaying the catholic taste of the owner.\n\nOscar, as the winter term wore on, became very fond of his surroundings and kept trying to make them more attractive. He was constantly adding new volumes to his library or buying another picture for his already crowded walls. And then, just as he began to feel entirely at home, came a tragic catastrophe.\n\nThat there was some smoking in Wendell Hall, in defiance of the regulations, Oscar well knew, and he wondered why more fellows were not punished for it.\nMr. Randall was a careful proctor who attended strictly to his duties and could be counted upon to make the rounds of the different rooms at least once every evening, looking in each one long enough to assure himself that the legitimate occupants were all there and that no forbidden occupations were being pursued. The hour of his visitation could never be accurately predicted, so the boys were careful to obey the rules. Occasionally, the report would circulate that the instructor was going out to dinner or was spending the night in Boston. Then the inhibitions would be removed, and there would be a vigorous and cleansing \"rough-house.\" Generally speaking, however, the order in Wendell Hall was excellent, and Oscar was able to devote his evenings to study without being disturbed. After ten o'clock, however, when the \"house\" rules relaxed.\nProfessor Had retired, and there was less restraint. Several men smoked clandestinely, blowing smoke from a \"good night\" cigarette out the window or up the fireplace. Oscar himself, as soon as he took up running, dropped smoking as a habit and had not resumed it. He knew it was harmful to his wind, and he was not thrilled by the idea of breaking a rule merely because it was a rule. Occasionally, someone he knew would be detected and placed on \"Probation,\" but the penalty was no deterrent to inveterate cigarette fiends. These were usually men of little standing in the school, who were certain to be dropped before the year was over.\n\nOne night just before the close of the winter term, Oscar, who was free for a few days from the examinations, decided to take a long walk in the woods.\nHe sat in front of his wood fire, intent on Frazer's one-volume edition of The Golden Bough, which he had discovered in the library. The book was so thrilling with its tales of magic and taboo that he felt almost like reading until morning. But common sense asserted itself, and a little after midnight, he walked into the corridor to take a shower before crawling into bed. The smell of smoke wafted to his nostrils as he entered the lavatory, but he concluded it was only some indiscreet late tobacco smoker. His fears allayed, he stepped under the shower, finished his bath, and started back to his room. However, he now detected a strong odor - not cigarettes this time, but burning wood. The smell was unmistakable.\nOscar found the corridor on the second floor reeking with fumes and could see flames through a transom above his head. He tried to open the nearest door, but it was locked. Shouting \"Fire! Fire!\" he succeeded in rousing several men who came out in their pajamas, sleepily rubbing their eyes. The heat was already suffocating, and there was no time to be lost. One intelligent boy dashed down to notify Mr. Randall and to telephone the local fire department. A few others seized the chemical extinguishers in the corners, but it was clear that the time for their effective use had passed. Meanwhile, Oscar cried, \"Come here, fellows! We'll have to break down this door. Let's get a sofa and knock it through!\" Three or four of the lustier men, including Bull, joined him.\nTaylor hauled out a lounge from a neighboring room and began the task of demolishing the locked door. Holding the solid piece of furniture up and running forward with all their force, they succeeded in driving it as a battering ram partway through the panel. One more smash and the door fell, but the flames licked out so viciously that most of the crowd dispersed. however, had provided himself with a bath towel soaked in water. As the door dropped, he crawled in on his hands and knees. For a second, he felt overwhelmed by the smoke, but he held the towel tight over his face and groped his way to the bedroom. There, on the bed, he saw a motionless form. Throwing the figure, blankets and all, over his shoulder, he shot back as swiftly as he could, the long tongues of fire.\nDarting at him as he ran, when he reached the corridor, he slipped and fell, but strong arms dragged him away from the terrible heat. He could hear Bull Taylor say, \"Good God, Oscar, we thought you had gone for good! Come along quick. Let's get out of this!\" Staggering and exhausted, Oscar let Bull take up his inert burden, and the two descended as fast as they could to the ground floor and out into the open air, where a throng of students was gathering. Staggering and exhausted, Oscar let Bull take up his burden. He is tried by fire (231). The biting wind revived Oscar at once, and he cried, \"Someone get a doctor quick! This fellow's dying!\" Bull and he laid the limp form on the snow and unwrapped the coverings. When the face was exposed, they saw that it was Carl Woodward, who had apparently been overcome.\nby smoke while he was sleeping, and was thus unable to escape. Familiar with the process of resuscitation, Oscar began working desperately at the youngster's arms, moving them up and down in approved Red Cross fashion. In a few minutes, however, Dr. Runner, one of the town physicians, arrived and administered additional first-aid treatment. Oscar had been sure that Carl was dead, but, under expert care, color returned little by little to his cheeks and he began to revive.\n\n\"Here,\" said Dr. Runner to some bystanders, \"it's altogether too frosty for this lad here. Take him to somebody's house, \u2014 no, I'll move him to the Infirmary in my car. Can\u2019t two of you huskies lend a hand?\"\n\nThe lad was lifted into Dr. Runner's automobile, and the physician drove off. Then Oscar, his tension a bit relaxed, had time to gaze about.\nhim in a dazzling scene. There had been nearly a foot of snow on the ground, and a light rain on the previous afternoon, turning into sleet and freezing quickly, had covered everything with an icy glare. The trees were masses of crystals, glittering in the lurid flare from the burning dormitory. The branches of shrubs and evergreens were bent over until they touched the snow, and the scintillating pendants clattered in the wind. Even in rubbers, it was not easy to stand upright, and the firemen, who had made an appearance with amazing speed, were having difficulties managing the hose. From the roof, flames were leaping out high into the air, illuminating the sky for rods around. Two jets of water were being played on the conflagration, and firemen were struggling desperately to get it under control.\nBy this time, most of the school had assembled, everyone shivering in the zero temperature. Soon, Oscar saw the Head approaching. \"Great Heavens, Harris!\" he cried, looking him over. \"Haven't you any shoes on? What are you wearing under that bathrobe? Anything?\"\n\nBewildered, Oscar looked down at his attire. He was in his bare feet and had emerged from the bathroom without pajamas or anything else to cover him. He had been so excited by what he had undergone that he had never noticed his lack of clothing.\n\nOscar attempted to stammer something, but the Head shouted to one of the instructors at his side. \"Here, will you see that Harris gets down to the Infirmary? It looks to me as if he had been scorched around the face. Anyhow, he's numb.\"\nwith cold. I want him put to bed immediately. In spite of some feeble protests, Oscar was shoved into a Ford sedan by Roscoe Dale, covered with a blanket and fur coat, and rushed to the Infirmary. The matron ordered him into a warm cot and gave him a steaming drink. Soon Dr. Runner entered and put some ointment over the blisters on his face, which were beginning to feel painful.\n\n\"I hear that you're a hero, young man,\" he said, examining his wounds. \"It was mighty plucky of you to go back and save that lad's life. He would certainly have burned to death if you hadn't pulled him out.\"\n\nOscar was too exhausted to say anything original in reply. Instead, he made the customary story-book answer. \"It wasn't anything, Doc. Anybody would have done it. But I'm glad that he will get well.\"\n\"Yes, he had a close call, and two or three minutes more of that smoke might have finished him. But he has a good constitution, and he'll be around in a week, just as well as ever. When the physician and the nurse had left, Oscar still lay awake, tired though he was, looking out the window at the tongues of flame as they rose and fell. From his bed on the east side of the Infirmary, he could watch the glare and could even hear the shouts of the firemen as they fought the blaze. Little by little, however, the redness died away, and Oscar, overcome with weariness, sank tranquilly to slumber.\n\nWhen he awakened, he saw a pretty nurse gazing at him. Where was he? Oh, yes, he remembered! He reached out his arms and felt of his face and neck, only to find that they were covered with bandages. He tried to raise himself up,\"\n\"You perceived that your back and legs were very sore.\n\n\"You'd better take it easy,\" said the nurse, smilingly. \"You're not as strong as you think you are. Wait until we've bathed and massaged you, and then you can try sitting up.\"\n\n\"My, am I so badly off as that?\" asked Oscar.\n\n\"Oh, no, you're not really sick, \u2014 just a trifle weak from shock. You're not going to be with us long as a patient.\"\n\n\"All right, nurse. But tell me, how is Carl Woodward getting along?\"\n\n\"Is he the boy who was brought here just before you last evening?\"\n\n\"Yes, that's the one.\"\n\n\"Oh, he's fine. He didn't get burned any too speak of. He just swallowed a lot of smoke.\"\n\n\"Oh, nurse,\" asked Oscar, raising himself up again, \"am I so much injured that I'll have to stop running?\"\n\n\"Goodness, no,\" answered the young lady.\n\"You have one or two painful burns on your face, but your eyes weren't touched and your legs and lungs are quite all right. You won't suffer any permanent damage, except possibly a scar or two on your cheeks.\n\n\"Thank Heaven!\" said Oscar, whose one apprehension had been that he might have to abandon his track work. \"I don't worry about my face. I don't care about that at all, for any change will be an improvement. But I should be broken-hearted not to be able to run.\n\nOscar was able to sit up a little later and demolish a grapefruit, two dishes of cereal, plenty of bacon and eggs, a plate of toast, and several cups of cocoa. The process of eating was not altogether pleasant, but he was the victim of a colossal hunger. Later, after Dr. Runner had examined his burns and replaced his bandages,\"\nOscar walked to a chair near the window and gazed out at the blackened roof of the dormitory, where the fire had raged so devastatingly the previous evening. The glamour of the scene had entirely gone. Evidently, the firemen had succeeded in checking the blaze before it reached the lower rooms, as the first floor seemed uninjured. However, around the building, the snow was trampled down by hundreds of feet, and there were desolate-looking piles of furniture, pictures, and books scattered here and there, where they had been deposited the night before. Little was left of the top story except charred timbers, and it was clear to Oscar that he had lost all his belongings \u2014 even his clothes. He had to smile as he thought that he had only one bathrobe left to wear.\nAs the day went along, Oscar's ward became a kind of reception room, and visitor after visitor arrived to call upon him. Steve Fisher, Joe Watson, Kid Wing, Bull Taylor, and all these friends came with clothing to place at his disposal, until he had a miscellaneous collection of knickerbockers, shoes, shirts, neckties, and other haberdashery sufficient to stock a store. Shep and Larry Spear came in together to cheer him up and assure him that he would soon be back on the cinder path again. Oscar, with great strips of gauze around his head, only his eyes and mouth visible, greeted them one after another. Just before noon, the Head stepped in, very solicitous about his condition.\n\"But Dr. Runner, who happened to be there at the time, declared that they were only superficial. \"How this fellow escaped without any more serious disability, I can't understand,\" said the physician, pointing to Oscar. \"He was right in the midst of the flames, and yet he was merely scorched. It's lucky for him, of course, that he had those damp towels over his face. Otherwise, he might have lost his eyesight.\" \"The good die young,\" interposed Oscar whimsically. \"I'm too tough a nut to kill, Doc.\" \"I'm glad you're still cheerful,\" said the Head. \"You'll need all your courage. I must tell you that everything in your room was burned up.\" \"I supposed so,\" was Oscar's answer. \"But I honestly don't care just so long as my running isn't interfered with. I can buy new clothes, but not new legs.\"\"\n\"You'll be on the track in ten days,\" said Dr. Runner.\n\"That's great, sir!\" said Oscar gleefully. \"And would you mind telling me where I can find a place to live for the rest of the year?\"\n\"That's going to be easy,\" answered the Head. \"Hal Manning says he has plenty of space for you in his suite over in Phillips Hall, and you can go there if you like. Would that suit you?\"\n\"That will be bully, sir,\" commented Oscar, who was very fond of Hal. \"Just so long as I have a cot and a few clothes I'll be all right.\"\nBefore the day was over, Hal Manning appeared himself to present the invitation, doing it in so gracious a manner that Oscar could not help accepting the offer. Now that both boys were in \"K. P. N.,\" the problem was simplified, and Oscar\nHe felt as if he had another friend besides Bull Taylor. He is tried by fire. Later on, Oscar found that similar arrangements had been made for the housing of all the homeless refugees who had resided in Wendell Hall. By a process of doubling up, they had all been distributed among the other dormitories. Oscar was much embarrassed to find himself a school hero. Bull Taylor, who had escaped uninjured, told the story of Oscar\u2019s deeds everywhere, and the episode bade fair to go down in the annals with the tale of the Andover graduate who so gallantly sacrificed his life in an effort to save women and children at a New Haven moving-picture theatre. Boston newspapers sent reporters out to get the news and published a full account, including Oscar\u2019s picture in running trunks and track-shirt. Mrs. Woodward, who\nOscar came from Kentucky to nurse his son, who was nearly overwhelmed with gratitude. Delicacies were showered upon him, such as avocado pears, California dates, enormous grapefruit, and boxes of chocolates - more than he could have eaten in a month. There were moments when Oscar felt as if he would like \"to fade away unto the forest dim,\" where he could escape the attention of the grateful mother.\n\nOscar remained in the Infirmary until the term closed, making sure that his burns were properly healed and taking his final examinations there by special dispensation. When school was over, he managed, in borrowed finery, to motor into Boston with Hal Manning. There he accumulated an entire new stock of clothing. His purchases at one or two stores almost led the clerks to believe that he was going into business for himself. Suitcases full.\nOscar spent a week at Hal Manning's home on Commonwealth Avenue, becoming a favorite with the family. He had an enjoyable evening when Hal's sister, Janet Hopkins, recounted her flirtation with Steve Fisher while Steve was at Andover. She described the affair with humor, and the family laughed. Oscar kept this in mind as a weapon against Steve's potential ridicule at the \"K.P.N.\" house. It was difficult for Oscar to leave the Manning home with its warm hospitality and Mrs. Manning's motherly affections. But Oscar was eager to continue his journey.\nHE is tried by fire, page 241. Get out on the track once more and try his legs; furthermore, he wanted to get settled in Hal's quarters in Phillips Hall so that all would be ready when the spring term opened. Early in April, then, Oscar returned to Andover Hill and established himself in Hal's room on the third floor. Anxious to contribute his share to the joint establishment, he depleted his bank account by purchasing some new furniture and a few choice engravings for the walls. But it was already so well supplied with the luxuries of school life that there was little which he could add without turning it into a museum.\n\nOn the afternoon of his return, a windy, cloudy, unpleasant day with mud everywhere under foot, Oscar strolled across Main Street to look at his last term's home. There it stood, with charred timbers and rubbish all around, the work of the fire that had destroyed it.\nMr. Randall greeted Mr., as he surveyed the wreckage, expressing gladness for his recovery and regret at his departure from Wendell Hall.\n\n\"Hello,\" Mr. Randall said, in his slow voice. \"I'm glad to see you've fully recovered. You look just as good as new. And I'm mighty sorry that you're leaving.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" Mr. replied, reflecting on his sadness of moving. \"I hope your part of the dormitory was not injured.\"\n\n\"We had some water leak through the ceilings, but it wasn't anything serious. It seems we could stay here while they do the necessary repairs.\"\n\"That's fine,\" said Oscar. \"You're better off than Lam. I suppose no one is making any inquiries as to how the blaze started?\" There was a twinkle in Mr. Randall's eye as he propounded the query. \"No, I imagine not,\" replied Oscar with equal seriousness. \"But I guess Carl Woodward could tell a good deal about it. However, I'm not going to ask him. His carelessness has cost the school a good deal of money and trouble,\" said Mr. Randall, with the air of one stating a fact, not placing the blame. \"When I saw him a week ago, he looked like a fellow who had learned a lesson,\" commented Oscar. \"Good! And, by the way, Harris, I have never had a chance to tell you how much I admired your conduct,\" said Oscar precipitously.\nMr. Randall, recognizing the preliminaries to another eulogy and unwilling to face it, rushed off like a dog escaping a beating, exclaiming, \"Good-bye!\" Once more in the precincts of his library, he turned to his wife, peacefully mending socks in front of the fire, and directed his comments to her. \"There's a boy who has certainly made good here,\" he said. \"We have plenty of disappointments in my profession, and there are moments when I am sure that I personally am getting worse every year as a trainer of boys; but this Harris is one of our shining successes.\" Like all teachers, Mr. Randall was inclined to claim the credit when one of the boys in his dormitory did well and to attribute all the failures to \"the cussedness\" of human nature.\n\"244 THE ANDover Way\nHe regretfully couldn't have heard Oscar reciting, as he walked back to his room, a stanza from a poem he had just learned:\n\u2018It matters not how strait the gate,\nHow charged with punishment the scroll,\nI am the Master of my Fate!\nI am the Captain of my Soul!\u2019\nHe would have been certain then, that Oscar, the former \"freak,\" had graduated into manhood.\n\nCHAPTER XI\nTHE HERO REACHES HIS GOAL\n\nWhen Oscar returned to Andover after his brief visit at the Manning house in Boston, he was disconcerted to find mud and water everywhere on the campus. He recalled March and April on the Mediterranean as delightful months, and he had expected similar conditions in New England. Instead, he encountered a three-day storm of wind and rain, during most of which he was glad enough to build up a fire in his room.\"\nHal sat in his room, planning for the spring. He waded through the shallow pools to the Case Memorial, resuming his running practice. His burns had not affected him at all. In fact, the enforced rest may have helped keep him in top condition.\n\nIt turned out that Steve Fisher, whose home was in Montana, was also stranded in Andover during the vacation. The two young men became well acquainted. Steve, a member of \"K.P.N.\" with Oscar, was the acknowledged leader of the school. Oscar felt a bit shy at first when talking to him, but he found Steve so completely free from conceit or condescension that it was easy to be at ease with him.\nThe two met at the Case Memorial, where Steve practiced curves and drops every afternoon, having been the captain of the nine and its first-string pitcher. Later, Steve invited Oscar to his room in Bartlet Hall, where they discussed world affairs, from prohibition to evolution, settling each matter in the offhand manner characteristic of the younger generation.\n\nA day or two before the vacation ended, the mud dried up, making it feasible for Oscar to get outdoors on the regular cinder track. He now felt supremely happy, as if new vigor had come to him with the return of warmth and sunshine. All the unmistakable signs of spring were present. Men with iron prongs on sticks prowled stealthily about the campus picking up the scattered bits of paper and tin foil and the countless lost shoe buckles.\nDuring the winter, seven hundred pairs of \"arctic laborers were rolling the playing fields and removing board walks. Carpenters were making necessary repairs and alterations on the buildings. The more enterprising robins had already appeared, and buds were showing on the maple branches. Best of all, there was a kind of freshness in the air, which made the blood in young men's veins flow like the fresh sap in the trees. Oscar could see why primitive peoples celebrate the Easter season as a resurrection \u2014 the awakening of the world from an unproductive slumber.\n\nOn the evening when the students returned for the spring term, the sun went down in gorgeous colors behind the distant hills, with promise of pleasant days to come. As the residents of Phillips Hall drove up one by one with their suits.\ncases they greeted Oscar in friendly fashion, frankly glad to have him one of their number. Carl Woodward, who had once resented being chastised by Oscar, was now ready to become his grateful satellite, and shouted out a joyous, \u201cHi, Oscar!\u201d as he saw him on the terrace. Bull Taylor, who was doubling up with a friend in Bartlet Hall, was once more on hand, gleeful because he had received high-enough grades to win a full scholarship once more. Altogether it was a hilarious reunion which the inmates of Phillips and Bartlet Halls had that evening, and Oscar had no regrets at being no longer in Wendell. As a matter of fact he soon came to realize that it was beneficial for him to be thrown more with the older and stronger men in the senior class. He was greeted by them as an equal, and he saw that\nHe could associate with them on even terms. For this, he was devoutly thankful. It amazed him to see how busy most of these seniors really were. They rarely indulged in rough-house in the dormitory; they were careful to keep their records free from \"cuts\" and \"demerits,\" and they worked harder at their studies than the younger fellows who had been in Wendell Hall with Oscar. Furthermore, each man seemed to have some outside activity which occupied his spare hours - some form of sport, debating, music, the school papers, or the Society of Inquiry - and everybody assumed that everybody else had something important to do. I may as well admit the truth at once - although it may not please some of my older readers - and state that Oscar's mind for the next few years was fully engaged in his studies and extracurricular activities.\nHe reached his goal after 249 weeks. For the past 249 weeks, his primary focus had been on running and the possibilities of victory in the upcoming track meet. This was his avocation, perhaps even his vocation at that moment. He maintained a satisfactory grade in his studies and did not fail in his recitations. Indeed, \"Charlie\" Foster complimented him more than once on his facility with turning Horace into English verse. But deep down in his heart, Oscar was aiming for just one thing \u2014 to win the mile run in the dual meet. His success in the \"B.A.A.\" relay had given him the right to wear the coveted \"A,\" but he was far from being content with that achievement. He wanted to prove to himself that he was an all-round man; he longed for the prestige which belongs to the victor in some athletic event; he desired to show that he was capable of excelling in multiple areas.\nHe was more than just a mere \"plugger.\" Regardless of motive, he dedicated himself fully to his work on the track. Every afternoon, Oscar arrived at two o'clock to follow Larry Spear's instructions. He often spent half an hour practicing starts. At times, he would jog for a few minutes and then go straight in for a rub-down. The coach made him run an occasional 440 yards or 880 yards at top speed, with the intention of enhancing Oscar's endurance and swiftness. Only once a week did he cover the full mile. Even then, Larry, with his watch out and evidently timing it, didn't reveal the time to Oscar. This is a little meanness which many coaches possess, similar in principle to the policy adopted by many others.\nphysicians refused telling a patient his temperature or blood pressure. Oscar could guess he was improving, but couldn't determine Larry's true feelings. Larry warned him repeatedly not to overdo it. \"You need to be careful, Harris,\" he said, \"not to get over-trained. You will learn through sad experience some day that it's just as disastrous to be stale as it is to take too little exercise. There's a happy medium somewhere, and you've got to discover where it is. I'm glad that you're so much like a racehorse, but you must keep yourself under control. Otherwise, all our labor will have been for nothing.\"\n\nJoe Watson, the hammer-thrower, was team captain and occasionally watched as Oscar's long legs went rhythmically around.\n\nHE REACHES HIS GOAL 251\nJoe was not a communicative person. It was his custom to sit in silence while the more loquacious Ted Sherman and Hal Manning babbled about the universe. But one day, as Oscar and he sat in the sun resting for a moment, Joe turned and said, \"Oscar, can you remember back to the time when you entered Andover last September?\"\n\n\"Yes, of course I do. You mean the morning when I asked you the way to Wendell Hall? I've often thought how kind you were to me that day! I must have looked to you then like the inmate of some institution for the feeble-minded.\"\n\n\"You're right! I'm not going to deny it. The funny part is that Hal Manning and Ted Sherman were ready to bet a lot of coin that you wouldn't stay in school until Christmas. And look at you now.\"\nOn the track team with an 'A/' in Hal Manning's crowd, which is pretty near as good as my own! And actually rooming with Hal Manning himself! When you think of it, it's stranger than fiction.\n\n\"Of course most of it is just luck,\" replied Oscar. \"But when I think back and recall what a donkey I was, I wonder how they ever allowed me to take up space in a dormitory. I suppose that some kindly god protects the stupid.\"\n\n\"I guess so, or else I'd never be here, either,\" commented Joe. He got up lazily to have another fling with the hammer before going in for the afternoon.\n\nThe first track meet of the season was with the Harvard Freshmen, who came to Andover late in April, on a damp, cold day. Oscar, who had never taken part in a race on a cinder path, was naturally nervous.\nBy this time, it had been settled that he should concentrate on the mile. Phil Allen could very well take care of the quarter, leaving Kid Wing and Oscar for the longer distance. The half was to be in the hands of Fritz Allis and Barney Wright, although Mr. Spear was well aware that, in the Exeter meet, he should have to use Phil Allen in both the quarter and the half. Being a highly intelligent coach, however, he was letting Phil run only the furlong distance for the present, hoping against hope that some good half-miler might appear.\n\nIn the Freshman meet, Oscar, standing with Kid Wing and the other veterans at the starting line, made up his mind to show Larry what he could do. Getting off slightly ahead of the others, he resolved to set the pace.\n\nHe reaches his goal (253)\n\nOscar, standing with Kid Wing and the other veterans at the starting line in the Freshman meet, made up his mind to show Larry what he could do. Getting off slightly ahead of the others, he resolved to set the pace for the race.\nHe covered the first quarter at top speed, completing it in not much above sixty seconds, and found himself well to the front. Pleased with his success, he maintained a stiff pace for the next two laps, with the positions of the Harvard men remaining much the same. As he started the last quarter, he felt rather tired but resolved to hold his lead at all costs. Gritting his teeth, he kept on, but an infallible sixth sense told him that the others were creeping up on him. He dug in with all his strength, but his legs were like lead. As he struggled down the back stretch, one Harvard man came up to his side, and, in spite of all he could do, passed him with a sprint which Oscar tried in vain to emulate. In the last one hundred yards, Oscar simply \"faded.\" He was completely \"run out.\" When Kid Wing and a second Harvard man passed him.\nA man passed him just before they reached the tape. He was too exhausted to do anything more than stagger across and get his breath as soon as possible. He had come in fourth in a race he had started out to win. That evening, in a quiet half-hour in his room, Larry took Oscar aside for some sound advice.\n\n\"See here, Harris,\" he began, \"you ought to make a clever runner, for you have some intelligence besides a good pair of legs and sound lungs. But you are not using your brain at all. I let you start in that race without any instructions whatever simply because I wanted to see what you would do. You acted just like the typical greenhorn \u2013 no strategy, no attempt to outguess the other man. You behaved as if you had no knowledge of your strength or of the distance you were running. Naturally, you just ran.\"\nYou cannot defeat an opponent by beating yourself. It was a foolish plan to follow. You can defeat that Harvard man in nine races out of ten, but you cannot give him all the face-cards and expect to win the game. That's impossible.\n\n\"Won't you tell me what to do next time, Mr. Spear? I need all the help I can get.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I will, if it seems necessary. What I'm trying to say now is that you ought to know yourself and your capabilities thoroughly. There are some men whom you can run right off their feet; but there are a few, like that Harvard fellow today, who just love to be paced for three laps and who can then come up fresh for a final sprint and carry off the gold medal.\"\n\nOscar did more than listen carefully to Larry's injunctions; he went back to his room and thought the problem out. He saw at once that:\n\n1. Remove unnecessary line breaks and whitespaces.\n2. Corrected minor spelling errors (\"injunctions\" to \"instructions\", \"to-day\" to \"today\").\n\nYour capabilities are essential to know. Some men can be outrun easily, but there are a few who can be paced and then outperform in the final sprint.\nIt would be impossible for him to size up an opponent merely by hastily looking him over. Often, an unpromising physical specimen might be very dangerous on the track. If he could run against a man once, Oscar felt that he could get some idea of what his psychology would be like. But the really vital thing for Oscar at that stage was to study himself - to learn how to manage himself in such a way as to bring out all his speed and endurance. He recognized that, in every important race, there are points at which a runner has to make a quick decision - whether he shall pass a weaker rival or let him continue to set the pace, for instance - but he was sure now that the fundamental principle was to get acquainted with his own strength and weaknesses.\n\nIn early May, the track squad went to New Haven to compete against the Yale Freshmen.\nand  Oscar  had  his  first  opportunity  of  inspecting \nTHE  ANDOVER  WAY \nthat  college,  where  he  was  already  entered.  Each \nteam  at  Andover  is  allowed  one  trip  away  from \nthe  school  during  the  season,  always  accompanied, \nof  course,  by  a  teacher.  Oscar  and  his  mates  were \nroyally  entertained  in  New  Haven,  and  he  met \nwhat  seemed  to  him  to  be  hundreds  of  old  An\u00ac \ndover  men,  each  of  whom  seemed  a  cordial  host. \nWith  the  former  \u201c  K.  P.  N.\u201d  members,  he  was \nsoon  on  intimate  terms,  and  he  could  appreciate \nhow  important  such  a  society  affiliation  might  be\u00ac \ncome.  What  pleased  him  most,  however,  was  the \nconsciousness  that  he  was  treated,  not  as  a \n\u201c  freak,\u201d  but  as  an  equal,  a  person  who  was  en\u00ac \ntirely  sane  and  normal. \nThe  mile  run  in  an  ordinary  track  meet  is  the \nthird  running  event,  coming  after  the  100-yard \ndash  and  the  120-yard  high  hurdles.  It  is  sel\u00ac \nSix runners lined up at the starting point: Kid Wing, Oscar, George Westcott for Andover, and the Yale trio headed by Mac Smith, an old Andoverian about whom Larry had told Oscar a great deal. Oscar was scheduled to come in third on the \"dope sheets,\" but he wasn't pleased with this prediction and wanted to prove it wrong.\nWhen the pistol shot, Oscar waited to fall behind Smith, who wasn't in a hurry. They started at a fairly slow pace, slower than Oscar was accustomed, but he had been warned of Smith's tricks and resolved not to be outmaneuvered. On the second lap, Kid Wing, usually considered a steady plodder, took the lead and quickened the pace, but even this didn't disturb Smith. The order remained the same on the third lap. But as the final quarter opened, Smith easily passed Kid Wing, and Oscar followed. This time Oscar felt fresh and strong, ready for a fast sprint. Smith sped up, but Oscar stayed close at his heels. Around the last curve and down the home stretch, they dashed, neck and neck, the others several yards in the rear. Just before they reached the tape, Smith put forth an unexpected ounce or two of extra effort.\nThe Andover Way: Oscar finished the race two lengths behind and shot ahead by inches. It was a glorious race, and the time - 4 minutes, 38 seconds - was excellent for that point in the season. It was some consolation to Oscar that he had performed intelligently. It was no disgrace whatever to be defeated by a better man, and Smith was better than he.\n\nIn the meet with the Dartmouth Freshmen, Oscar won his race with ease in 4 minutes, 40 seconds, but he was not pushed. This, his first real victory in any track competition, gave him the confidence he was so badly in need of. By this time, it had become evident that he was running better than Kid Wing, and the Andover hope of success in the mile would rest on him. Kid was a star in cross-country running and was later to be an intercollegiate champion.\nOscar in the two-mile race, but there is no two-mile event in interscholastic athletics, as it is considered too exhausting for growing boys. Kid accepted Oscar's progress in the most generous way, merely saying, \"Well, you can beat me, all right. I admit it. What I'm going to try to do from this time on is to help you get first place.\"\n\nThe so-called Harvard Interscholastics, held in Cambridge, gave Oscar a chance to measure his ability against that of the best runners from other schools, especially Exeter\u2019s star, \u201cRed\u201d O\u2019Brien, who had established first-place finishes in the two most recent Andover-Exeter meets.\n\n\"Oscar,\" said Larry, as the boy was undressing for his race, \"you must watch this O\u2019Brien. Study his stride and the system that he follows.\"\nHe's the man you have to beat next Saturday. I don't care what you do this afternoon, but it's your job to learn all about him so that you can win from him at Andover.\n\nOscar found the famous O'Brien to be a rather short but very stocky lad, with muscular calves and a vast expanse of chest. His stride was shorter than Oscar's, but he looked as if he could keep going until Doomsday. His favorite procedure in the past had been to kill off his opponents one by one by setting a terrific pace at the start, confident that there would be no one among them who would be his equal. This method he tried again at Harvard, but Oscar stayed close to him for the first half-mile.\n\nO'Brien was manifestly taken aback at seeing this new Andover athlete, whom he had heard nothing about since the relay race during the winter.\nHe slowed down perceptibly for the third quarter, hoping to lure Oscar into sprinting. But Oscar had learned too much to attempt that. Two hundred yards from the finish, O\u2019Brien leaped forward into his sprint. At the same time, but just a trifle too slowly, Oscar started. Down the stretch they swept, Oscar holding his own with the Exeter man but unable to gain an inch. They crossed the finish line, O\u2019Brien the winner by two feet. As Oscar regained his breath, he saw his rival at his side reaching out his hands. \"That\u2019s a bully race you ran, Harris. You gave me the surprise of my life. I hope that we\u2019ll have just as good a one next week.\"\n\n\"Thanks, O\u2019Brien. You certainly can run,\" said Oscar, still a little winded. \"I don\u2019t see now how I stuck to you so long.\"\nI know,\" answered O'Brien, \"and I'm a little afraid of what you may do.\" In a spirit of strong but friendly rivalry, the representatives of the two great schools prepared for the final contest, neither quite sure that he could defeat the other, but each hopeful.\n\nHE REACHES HIS GOAL 261\n\nDuring the week preceding the big meet, Oscar felt as if he were dwelling in a rarefied atmosphere. At the chapel service every morning, the students cheered and applauded each track man as he entered, until the building fairly quivered with the tumult. Pedants may denounce competition in athletics as placing the emphasis on the wrong things, but all men who are young in body or spirit are bound to admire physical prowess. To Oscar, there was something in the approbation of his fellows that was very sweet, and their applause was a source of great motivation.\nProval gave him the confidence he needed. Even the tiniest prep had his carefully prepared \"dope sheet,\" on which the events were tabulated with an assignment of points to each school based on past performance. During the Sunday sermon, Oscar was amused to find one neighbor, Tom Hayden, working out a prediction in the back of his hymn book, and another making a drawing of Joe Watson hurling the hammer an unprecedented distance. No one who has never been near a great American school before an important contest can realize how intense the feeling is and how anxiously the undergraduates await the outcome.\n\nOn Thursday afternoon, the school in a body marched to Brothers\u2019 Field, carrying blue megaphones ornamented with white \u201cA\u2019s,\u201d and cheered the track squad. On Friday evening, the customary preparations were made.\nA mass meeting was held in the Gymnasium, a noisy gathering where school spirit ran high and smaller boys bellowed themselves hoarse. Fletcher, class of '08, the author of the stirring songs \"Fighting for Old P.A.!\" and \"Andover Royal Blue!\", came out from Boston to play them on the piano and lead the crowd in singing. Charlie, Foster, Shep, Larry Spear, and the Head made brief speeches, telling a funny story or two and urging everybody to cheer the team on to victory. At intervals, there would be a staccato chant, \"We want Georgy! We want Georgy!\" as the mob demanded some old favorite. The popular teacher, escorted by two sturdy cheerleaders, would march to the platform between walls of yelling undergraduates. The scene was so picturesque that alumni often came from a distance just to get once more in.\nTouch the school they had known and renew the joyful feeling of other days. At the football mass-meeting in the fall, Oscar had been very little stirred. He shouted in a routine and phlegmatic way, his only desire being to avoid criticism. Now he sat quietly in the gallery and listened while the boys gave cheer after cheer, one of them ending with his own name, \"Harris! Harris! Harris!\" Then, at Coach Shepley's order, he walked slowly to his room, read a humorous novel by P.G. Wodehouse, and went to bed. Of course, he tried to sleep, but it was difficult. He counted sheep jumping over a fence; he played an imaginary golf course, holding out impossible shots for \"birdies\" and \"eagles\"; he recited Alfred Noyes's poem, \"The Barrel Organ,\" which he had learned some weeks prior.\nBefore the poet visited Andover, and just as he was about to despair, oblivion came. When he awakened at seven o'clock, he could see the sunlight gleaming on the dew-covered grass and was glad to know that the track would be dry. Of course, he was excited. It would be ridiculous to deny it. But, despite his rapid heart action, he tried by an effort of the will to conserve energy and keep himself under control. At breakfast and chapel, dozens of friends wished him success until he was weary of mumbling the conventional \"Thanks!\". He sat through his two classes in a state of anesthesia, his instructors being kind enough not to call on him \u2014 even teachers have a human side. All that Oscar could think of while Mr. Loring was reciting:\n\n\"The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:\nAt one stride comes the dark,\"\nwas about the kind of stride that Red O'Brien would take that afternoon as he dashed away from the starting-line. \"It'll be more than one stride,\" thought Oscar whimsically to himself; but just then the bell rang for the close of the hour, and he was free. He had a light lunch at eleven-thirty, after which he lay down in his room for an hour. At last, at one-thirty, he was allowed to go to the Gymnasium and don his running clothes. Once in these, with a light sweater over his chest, he felt calmer in his mind. The moment of supreme trial was at hand. Stretched out on the grass in the hot glow of the sun, Oscar idly watched the spectators taking their places in the stands - pretty girls in colored gowns, middle-aged graduates in linen knickerbockers and gay golf stockings, and then the Exeter student body marching in column of fours.\nAnd they recited the monotonous \"EXETER\" in slow unison, giving each separate letter full stress. The Andover undergraduates followed through. He reaches his goal. Another gateway, headed by a military band and a spreading blue banner carried by stalwart arms. When these two groups were seated, the benches looked like one conglomerate mass of red and blue, yellow and white. The elements of the spectrum had been scattered there by some careless god. Oscar saw the cheerleaders hold a consultation and then begin their strange dance in front of the bleachers, like priests of some Polynesian religion carrying on their barbaric rites, their arms waving simultaneously in the air. Then came the crash and echo of the cheers. The home school gave a \"long Andover\" for its opponents, and Exeter returned the compliment.\nThis interchange of amenities was followed by a medley of cheers, in which various people were honored \u2014 the coaches, the captains, and the athletes \u2014 until there was a lull, explainable by the fact that the hundred-yard dash was about to start. As Oscar listened to the organized cheering from the stands, he went over the situation in his mind, as he had discussed it with Shep the previous afternoon. Those most fully informed admitted that the meet was bound to be very close and that a second or third place won unexpectedly by either school might decide the result. For the moment, we are interested primarily in the mile run. Two of Exeter's entries, Red O'Brien and Fred Jones, were conceded to be superior to any Andover runner except Oscar. Kid Wing was not at his best in the mile, and although he was planning to make a strong comeback, his performance was uncertain.\nIf he wasn't expected to win a point, Oscar was Andover's only hope. Newspapers unanimously favored Red O'Brien, the veteran, the evening before the Andover-Exeter meet. Points were awarded five to first place, three to second, and one to third. If Oscar took first place, it would be a notable triumph for his school, even if Exeter secured the other four points. Conversely, if Oscar scored only one or three points and was driven back to second or third place, New Hampshire \"rooters\" would feel they had gained a decisive advantage. Aware of these possibilities, Oscar knew the crowd's expectations.\nIn the hundred-yard dash, Exeter took the first two places with figures of 8-1 on the score board. In the high hurdles, Len Whitney, Andover\u2019s star, came in far ahead of any competitor. As he reached the starting point for the mile, Oscar met Red O\u2019Brien and they shook hands cordially.\n\n\"Well, Harris, this ought to be a good race for us. We\u2019ll have a real fight today. This is my last for Exeter, you know.\"\n\n\"Same for me here at Andover,\" replied Oscar. \"I graduate in June, too. I sure am going to work hard to beat you, O\u2019Brien.\"\n\n\"Go to it!\" was O\u2019Brien\u2019s comment.\nThe contest was in full swing. Six men lined up across the track and dug little holes in the cinders for their toes. O\u2019Brien drew pole position, and the crowds from Exeter shouted wildly at this supposed advantage. Oscar took the next place, and the others alternated along the line. There was a moment's pause while the starter delivered his instructions, warning them not to crowd on the first turn and not to cut in towards the pole without being a full stride ahead. Then there was quiet. \"Get ready! Get on your marks! Get set! Bang!\" They were off, with an Exeter man, Fred Jones, in the lead, followed by Red O\u2019Brien and Oscar, the other three trailing. Jones had been coached to set a brisk pace for the first quarter, but Oscar did not object as long as Red O\u2019Brien was going.\nThey maintained the same gait and relative positions as they swept by the stands once more. Larry Spear noted, glancing at his watch, that they had covered the first quarter in sixty-five seconds - fast time for schoolboy running.\n\nAs the second lap began, Jones slowed down and Red shot past him, followed by Oscar. It was quite obvious that Jones had done his part and would content himself with making sure of third. At the end of the lap, O\u2019Brien and Oscar were still going strong, but the others were slowly dropping behind. Poor Kid Wing, who was out of condition, fell to the rear. The third quarter was noticeably slower; both Oscar and Red husbanded their strength for the finish. As they came by the stands once more, the pistol rang out, indicating that there was but one more lap to go.\nOscar and the Andover \"rooters\" yelled frantically, \"Go it, Harris! Beat that red-head! You're the baby, Oscar!\"\n\nIt would not be exact to say that Oscar was fresh at this point. His breath was coming hard and he was tired. But he knew his capabilities and felt good for the final struggle. He had a feeling, moreover, that O\u2019Brien, in taking the pace for two laps, had worn himself out a little.\n\nDown the back stretch, therefore, he began his sprint, rather earlier than O\u2019Brien had anticipated. With a bound, Oscar was by Red's side, and they went along neck and neck in a magnificent contest for supremacy. As they reached the curve, it was difficult for the spectators to see who was leading; but those at the western end of the bleachers could note that, as they came into the last straightaway, Oscar was ahead by inches.\nDown they came, each man with muscles tense, teeth clenched, fists tight, swinging his arms to secure more power for his leg drive, \u2013 each with desperation on his face, giving every last ounce of strength. For a second it seemed as if O\u2019Brien were drawing up, but Oscar, with a superb last effort, drove his weary body forward by sheer force of will and broke the tape a foot in front of his gallant Exeter rival! The mass of humanity on the Andover benches rose as a single unit, waving arms, yelling raucously, and hurling hats into the air. The band, inspired by the occasion, burst automatically into \u201cOld PA.\u201d Oscar himself was supported by strong arms, from which he had to fight to free himself. He felt as if a million people were slapping him on the back and crying \u201cBully for you.\u201d\nOscar! In a few seconds, however, he regained his breath and straightened up just in time to receive the congratulations of his late foe, Red O\u2019Brien.\n\n\"You fairly ran me off my feet, Harris,\" said the chivalrous Exeter veteran between gasps.\n\n\"But it was a good race. I wonder what the time was,\" they listened as the announcer bellowed through his gigantic megaphone: \"Results of the one mile run. Won by Number 36, Harris, of Andover; second, Number 77, O\u2019Brien, of Exeter; third, Number 21, Jones, of Exeter. Time, four minutes, thirty-five and two-fifths seconds.\" It was the fastest time Oscar had ever made officially, and it was within two seconds of the meet record, set thirty years before by an Andover athlete, William T. Laing.\n\nOscar was glad enough to jog off to the Gymnasium without waiting for the remaining events.\nFrom time to time, someone brought him news: Len Whitney broke the world's interscholastic record in the low hurdles. Exeter's captain, \"Si\" Beeson, took first in the high jump. Phil Allen justified the hopes of his admirers by winning the quarter-mile. The meet was very close. And then, as he was putting on his street clothes after a rubdown and a plunge in the pool, he heard a confusion of voices and learned that \"Spider\" Drummond, a rank outsider, had exceeded all his previous performances in the shot-put by three feet, thus taking second place in that event and winning the meet for Andover.\n\nIt was impossible for Oscar to escape from the intrusion of admiring but inconsiderate friends.\nLarry Spear led Oscar out of the crowd. \"Let's get away from this,\" he said. \"I know how you feel, Oscar. I've been there myself many times. You want to be by yourself, don't you?\"\n\n\"I like having you around, Larry,\" replied Oscar, who was now on intimate terms with the coach. \"But I certainly hate having a hundred men whom I hardly know praising me just because I happen to be a good athlete. Most of them wouldn't have spoken to me six months ago.\"\n\n\"That's life, Oscar. You'll learn that lesson quickly. But what I want to say now is that you ran a brilliant race. I never saw a better one. You used your head like an old-timer. Great work for a man so new to it!\"\n\"Much obliged for those kind words,\" answered Oscar, visibly pleased. \"I'm glad I won. I certainly worked hard enough. You'll bear witness to that. There isn't a man on that team who deserves a victory more than you do,\" went on Larry. \"Some day, if you keep on, you'll be running in the Olympics. Wouldn't that astonish my mother! She used to be alarmed if I took a walk more than a mile long. But just now I feel as if I never wanted to put on running-shoes again. I suppose I'll get over that attitude? ''Oh, yes, it\u2019ll be different tomorrow morning, just as soon as you have a respite from the excitement. And next spring you\u2019ll be all on edge to feel the cinders under your feet once more.\"\n\nAs Larry and Oscar emerged from the Gymnasium by a side door, they could hear the bells in the distance.\nThe Memorial Tower pealed joyfully as people strolled away from the playing fields. Some were exultant, others despondent, depending on their affiliated schools. Oscar slipped back to Phillips Hall by a circuitous route, entered his room without attracting attention, and sat down at his window for a rest. He had been careful to lock the door against intruders. He took out the little box containing the gold medal he had won and carefully read its wording and studied the design. Instinctively a philosopher, he wondered if the reward was worth the hours of hard labor he had endured to gain it.\nA man who achieves his goal questioned the importance of what he had accomplished. He felt his leg muscles, firm and hard as iron. He took a deep breath and rejoiced at the gain in health he had made since entering Andover eight months prior. He thought, in addition, of how much he had developed in the ability to measure his powers against those of his comrades. \"Yes,\" he said to himself, as he looked again at the shining medal. \"It may not be very valuable in itself, but it was worth all the trouble. It stands for my first real success!\"\n\nAt the football victory celebration in the fall, Oscar was just a commonplace \"prep,\" grateful for the privilege of helping to pull the barge and of having his famous blue silk pajamas torn into shreds in front of the bonfire. Now he was different.\nwas, by a miraculous transformation, a school hero, whose car lesser men would draw. As he climbed into the ancient vehicle in front of the Gymnasium and rode off with Joe Watson and the other members of the team, he could not help smiling to think that he and the great Joe were jouncing along side by side on what, for a throne of glory, was undoubtedly a very hard and bumpy seat. His grin grew broader as he caught occasional glimpses of Steve Fisher and Hal Manning leading cheers in his honor. With the indefatigable band in front, followed by the barge, drawn by \u201cpreps\u201d like Oscar, and the students, the procession marched off down Main Street, looking like a chapter of some secret society \u2014 for the boys were all clothed in night apparel and each one was waving a kerosene torch. A long procession.\nA line of automobiles was held back by the police as the parade got under way. Down the broad paved highway it went, the students prancing up and down in a zigzag movement from side to side. Turning into School Street, the leaders halted at Abbot Academy to give cheers for the young ladies of that institution \u2013 the \u201cFern Sem,\u201d as it has been called for nearly a century. Then crossing over and taking a route up Bartlet Street, they stopped at the house of the Head. He appeared in response to the cries of the boys. Standing on his piazza and looking out over the sea of waving lights, he spoke as follows:\n\n\"Fellows, there's one thing about this meet of which we should all be proud. Some of our old-time athletes, like Phil Allen and Joe Watson, did brilliantly; but the really marvelous factor is the 276 participants.\"\nThe achievement of inexperienced performers Harris and Drummond, who are new men in this sport, amazed me. I know neither had ever worn a track suit before this year, yet they displayed the coolness and resourcefulness of veterans. As long as we have spirit like that in Andover, we will not be ashamed of any comparisons with the 'good old days.'\n\nAfter visits to the houses of two faculty members, who told old stories and were warmly greeted, the procession arrived at the old campus. An enormous pile of miscellaneous combustibles had been assembled there. The crowd gathered around the barge and called upon each team member. Nervously sitting through remarks by the two coaches and the captain, Oscar finally heard the cry, \"We want Harris! We want Harris!\" and was raised up by his comrades.\n\"Fellows, the only other time I made a speech like this was last September, when I was being hazed as a 'prep' and every time I opened my mouth, someone pasted me in the rear with a barrel-stave. I'm glad that won't happen again tonight, because this is the first and only time I can appear on an occasion of this sort. I just want to say that there\u2019s nobody on the squad happier than I am. When I came here, I was a poor, feeble thing, with hardly enough sense to come in out of the rain. I am probably not much more sensible now, but I am a trifle stronger \u2014 thanks to 'Doc' Rogers, Shep, and Larry Spear.\"\nAll I want to say is that this school is the greatest, and I'm proud to be connected with it. One by one, the remaining team members made their brief remarks. Some of them very brief, like Spider Drummond's, \"Gee, fellows, I'm a happy butterfly tonight.\" The flames, which had leaped high only fifteen minutes before, were now sinking, and the boisterousness of the participants was less noticeable. Here and there, a tired \"prep\" was slipping off to his room, glad to hunt his bed after an exciting day. A few dauntless spirits gave a last long cheer for \"Team,\" and the athletes got down from their perches, glad to stretch their legs again. Oscar went with Hal Manning, who was near at hand, across Main Street and up the gravel path towards the Main Building. A full moon was rising.\nOn the Sunday morning after the Exeter meet, it seemed to Oscar as if he wanted to slumber for weeks and weeks. He had been going through a prolonged period of nervous strain, and the reaction had arrived. Although he awoke at nine o'clock, he was disinclined to get up. So he lay there in bed in a state of reverie until Hal Manning, carrying a bundle of Boston newspapers under his arm, rushed in noisily and pulled him.\n\nCHAPTER XII\nTHE HERO AMAZES HIS MOTHER\n\nOscar wanted to sleep for weeks after the Sunday morning following the Exeter meet. He had been under great nervous strain and was now experiencing the aftermath. Despite waking up at nine o'clock, he found no motivation to rise from bed. Instead, he remained in a dreamlike state until Hal Manning burst in, carrying a stack of Boston newspapers.\nOscar stumbled out onto the floor. A vigorous wrestling match ensued for a minute or two, and then Oscar, fully awake, sat down to examine the sporting pages. The headlines read: HARRIS OF ANDOVER BEATS O\u2019BRIEN IN SPECULAR RACE; HARRIS AND DRUMMOND BRING VICTORY TO BLUE; HARRIS'S DEFEAT OF O\u2019BRIEN FEATURE OF CLOSE MEET. Two of the papers had photographs of the finish of the mile, showing Oscar with a face he could not recognize as his own, so contorted and vicious were the features; and one actually had a full-length picture of him in track costume, with the legend underneath, \"HARRIS, ANDOVER\u2019S FIGHTING MILER.\"\n\nIt was with unaffected delight that he read the detailed accounts of the event, with the tributes to his \"fighting spirit,\" his \"grim determination,\" and his \"unexpected display of strength.\" Afterwards,\nTwo or three of these eulogies, Oscar got up and walked around to make sure he was not living in a dream. Only a few months before, he had been the butt of the school; now he was one of the best-known Andoverians. It was a case of what his Latin teacher would have called the mobile vulgus, the fickle populace. And yet Oscar knew that the real transformation had been, not in the crowd, but in himself.\n\nIn the evening, Oscar had been invited to Professor Foster's for Sunday-night supper\u2014a treat to which he always looked forward with keen anticipation, for the Fosters, as we have said, were famous for their hospitality. He walked out after vespers with Steve Fisher, Joe Watson, and Hal Manning; and they found there Mr. and Mrs. Loring, together with two well-known alumni of twenty-five years back, whom Professor Foster had invited.\nTom Gordon and A1 Mason were addressed. There was, of course, much talk during which Oscar and Joe sat abashed, overwhelmed by the praise bestowed upon them. But after a delightful dinner, the men gathered in the library and the conversation turned to bygone days. The teachers and old graduates vied with one another in telling stories about things as they used to be.\n\nOver the cigars and coffee someone brought up the subject of practical jokes, particularly as played by one member of the faculty upon his colleagues. Professor Foster related several anecdotes about Mr. Lapham, familiarly known as \"Jimmy,\" the Instructor in Chemistry, now sedately middle-aged, but twenty-five years before an incorrigible jester. It was he who, when the editors of the school year-book asked for an account of himself, replied that his name was \"Professor Prankster.\" Another time he filled the chemistry lab with smoke by mixing together chloroform and sulphuric acid. And once, when a new professor arrived, he substituted pepper for salt in the laboratory, causing the newcomer to make a most unappetizing soup for the faculty dinner.\nA man in his past wrote a biography about his early marriage and subsequent bereavement in such a moving style that the ladies of the community were ready to weep with the desolated widower. It was not until several years later that the truth came out that he was still a bachelor, and all the tears had been shed without any real cause.\n\nIt was he who, on one Christmas Day, sent his most intimate friend and colleague, \"Andy\" Goodwin, a canary in a cage, and received in reply the telegram, \"It's a bird!\"\n\nIn retaliation, Andy borrowed a little negro pickaninny from the family of one of the chambermaids at the Inn and put it in Jimmy's bed one afternoon, just before the latter came back from his class, with the inscription on a card, \"I win, Jimmy. Mine's a blackbird!\"\n\nIt was Jimmy who was the hero of an exploit.\nChinese religions are of three kinds: the inductive, the deductive, and the conductive. (Jimmy's astonishing essay opening)\nThe article was taken seriously by the Missionary Society and discussed at length, with the approval of its members, regarding unknown gods and goddesses, many of them anagrams of his friends. Jimmy and Andy, tired of joking with each other, combined with disastrous results against the victim of their schemes. In the old days, before the installation of a steam-heating plant, each room was warmed by a stove, at least three feet high. One bachelor teacher, Mr. Barrett, went to a house in town to make a call. In his absence, his two associates took down his stove and brought in a little new one of the toy variety, leaving the room otherwise as it was. When Barrett returned, he could hardly believe his eyes. His own familiar stove had been replaced.\nOscar sat enthralled by these tales of his teachers' frailties and follies, absolutely replaced by a piece of heating apparatus in an hour. He had never thought of his teachers as human beings. Now that he knew they were not above the ordinary emotions of mankind, his respect for them would increase.\n\n\"It's queer that joking of that sort has practically died out?\" A1 Mason remarked.\n\n\"But it hasn't gone altogether, sir,\" Steve Fisher interjected, having listened attentively. \"It still goes on here. Haven't you heard of the fun Shep, Larry Spear, and Roscoe Dale have together?\"\n\n\"Go ahead with the story,\" Professor Foster urged. And so Steve spun his yarn. Roscoe Dale, one of the popular unmarried men, was the subject.\ninstructors had a Ford runabout, which he parked behind his dormitory. Shep and Larry occasionally removed the seat or took off a rear wheel, or unscrewed the spark-plugs, and Roscoe had his own means of getting even. One evening, however, when Shep and Larry were in Roscoe's room, looking out at the lonely Ford, Shep said to Larry, \"You go out and jack up Dale's car, and I'll keep him here talking. Take off the two front wheels and let the old boat down to the ground. He'll certainly be surprised.\" Larry accordingly went out and proceeded to begin his task of dismantling the machine. While he was in the very midst of the operation, however, Shep decided it would be amusing to turn traitor. Accordingly, he drew Dale to the window and pointed out to him the progress Larry was making.\nAn obscure figure, apparently engaged in some nefarious business. \"I bet that's the fellow who's always tampering with your car,\" he said to Roscoe. Roscoe was out the door and running for his machine within two seconds. As he drew nearer, he could see someone working at the front wheel. Thinking it to be a student, he shouted, \"Get out of there!\" This gave Larry time enough to straighten up and see Roscoe approaching. He turned and fled at top speed, with Roscoe in pursuit, yelling for him to stop. The intriguing sight of Roscoe chasing in the gathering darkness a former Olympic champion in the distance runs was especially humorous to Shep, who, as the devious author of this plan, watched from the window, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks. The end was not yet, however.\njust as Larry reached the road near the Infirmary, he slipped in the mud and fell. In a few seconds, Roscoe, bursting with rage, was upon him, clutching him by the throat. As Larry turned over, Roscoe saw his face, and comprehension came to him. \"You son of a gun!\" said Roscoe, letting Larry up. \"So that was you all the time!\" asked Larry, trying to brush off his muddy trousers. \"Shep showed you to me,\" replied Roscoe. An expression of understanding came over Larry's face. He had been betrayed by his supposed ally. Within the next few days, Larry formed an alliance with Roscoe against Shep. \"Speaking of good jokes,\" said Tom Gordon, \"I remember perfectly the time when a fellow\"\nOzzy Webster dozed off in Andy Goodwin's History recitation. It was towards the end of the hour in a warm room. Ozzy fell into a peaceful slumber on the back seat. Andy signaled to the classmates to leave quietly. He went to the door and asked the newcomers in the next division to enter quietly. Everything was absolutely silent, and the plan worked like a charm. The men in the following class all got seated. Then Andy continued with the recitation as if nothing had occurred. Pretty soon, Ozzy woke up with a start and looked around, dazed and perplexed. He straightened up, and then the classmates who had left returned.\n\"He gave him a loud laugh in response, and he fled, you can be sure he never heard the last of it. A1 Mason turned to the undergraduates, \"Don't you gentlemen no longer have goat instructors?\"\"Yes, we've had a few,\" answered Steve, who had been in Andover three years. \"I remember when I was a prep that one of the boys threw papers and shavings into a desk in Pearson Hall and then tossed a match into them. Smoke began to come out of the inkwell hole, and the teacher, who was just a young fellow a year out of college, had no idea what to do. Of course, the men made a terrible noise and pretended to be frightened, and two or three gave good imitations of fainting.\"\"\n\"Don't you remember 'Doggy' Morris? He had a section in Mechanical Drawing, and Ted Sherman used to nail his instruments to the table so they stuck fast. It took him ten minutes every morning to get his tools loose, yet he never complained. Afraid to protest, I suppose. It sounds to me as if discipline must have been better than it was in my day. There's nothing very serious about what you have told. A teacher who can't keep order better than that deserves to be made a butt. In the period when Tom Gordon and I were here, there was always some inexperienced cub who had no idea how to handle his classes. I can recall\"\nThe Head, a young fellow himself then, had to enter an English classroom due to the noise causing the building to shake.\n\n\"The fellows nowadays are mighty well behaved,\" said Professor Foster. \"There's almost never any trouble with the seniors. They have passed the silly stage, and unless a teacher is wholly incompetent, they sit quiet, even when they are bored. You know, Tom, I really believe that things have improved since you were here.\"\n\n\"I hate to admit it,\" answered Tom, \"but I think that it's so. I've been doing a little sleuth work since I arrived yesterday, and I'm convinced that these boys here now are a finer type than the crowd I knew in my day. With these young chaps here with us, I'm a little restricted, for I don't want my past exposed to their ridicule.\"\n\"But Fisher and the others won't mind being told the truth. Won't you, boys? We're so accustomed to being told that we're corrupt and degenerate and immoral that it's a pleasure to have any older man say that he has confidence in us,\" said Steve, who naturally took the position of spokesman for the group. \"We don't think we're so bad ourselves. But a lot of the ministers who come here have been reading books like The Plastic Age and This Side of Paradise, and they are convinced that school and college are dens of iniquity. Only last week, a minister stood up and told us that our generation was perverse and wicked. I should like to know really what our fathers were like when they were here at Andover.\"\n\n\"Much worse than you are, my son,\" said Charlie Foster genially. \"I've been at Andover longer than any of you.\"\nFor many years, and I can tell you that things are vastly better than they were thirty years ago. We get some fairly dull boys here now, but nothing compared to what we had then. Why, when I first came here to teach, there were two men on the bench in front of me, both older than I. They were both football players, Pete Vaughan and Pat Dorsey. Pete was at least six feet four inches tall and had arms that reached to his knees. Pat was chunky and stolid, as strong as a bull. Either one could have reached over the desk and pulled me out of my chair with one arm. Neither, however, had the brains of a baby rabbit, and try as we might, we couldn't get them through the lowest class, both being old enough to vote. They played on the eleven for one year, making wonderful records as athletes, and\n\"then had to go. We don't get that kind now, I'm glad to say. \"You're right,\" said Mr. Loring, who had hitherto said very little. \"Perhaps we have less rugged manhood than we did then, but there are fewer stupid dolts. I should say that the fellows now are more intelligent and less picturesque. He amazes his mother 291. Can't you remember Pink Sheldon, who went to call so often on a young lady in the town? The family disliked him, the girl hated to see him, and they resorted to every kind of subterfuge to keep him away. He was put on probation, but he would call then between seven and eight, or on Sunday afternoon. No matter what kind of hint was given him, he would bob up serenely the next day. Finally, the faculty had to 'fire' him in order to relieve the poor girl from the annoyance.\" \"Mr. Loring,\" said Oscar, who now spoke for\"\nThe first time, \"that fellow had nothing on me. I was the stupidest fellow that ever entered Andover.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no,\" protested Professor Foster, in his function as host. \"You weren't stupid. You were ignorant. There's a great difference. And when you had a chance to learn, you made rapid progress.\"\n\nSomehow the topic of athletics was brought up, and Mr. Loring described some of the famous faculty baseball games. In one of which a scholarly teacher, having accidentally knocked a fair ball, promptly ran to third, intending to go around the bases in reverse order. A. Mason told of the class baseball contests in his time, which degenerated almost into mortal combats. When one team was in the field, the other had small cannons near first and third, which were discharged at intervals to rattle the pitcher. Once a traveling team came to play against us, and we were so confident of our victory that we filled a large cask with water and stationed it near home plate. When the opposing team came up to bat, we would soak them with water, making it impossible for them to hold their bats or maintain their footing. The game ended in a forfeit, and we were severely reprimanded by the headmaster.\nA German band was introduced to increase the tumult, and the rash musicians barely escaped with their lives. It was not unusual for a game to last from two o'clock until dark, when the players left the field, their faces streaked with blood and uniforms bespattered with dirt.\n\nThe subject of cleanness in athletics inevitably led to other comparisons between yesterday and to-day. \"We probably had stronger teams in the '90s than we have now,\" said Professor Foster, \"but there weren't so many restrictions. We used to have full-grown men on our elevens then. I remember once when we were playing another academy that a small boy, six or seven years old at least, ran up and down the sidelines shouting to the fullback on the opposing team, 'Go it, Daddy, go it!' That could never happen to-day. One of the greatest American football players went\nTo 'Prep' school when he was twenty-five! Why, in my time, there wasn't always friendly feeling between the schools. There was a period of three years when Andover and Exeter broke off relations, wasn't there? \" Yes, and there was one actual free-for-all fight in the Exeter station. It's a fact that an Andover teacher, Professor Hoy, stepped in and did some slugging himself to break it up. \" That's funny,\" said Oscar, thoughtfully. \" Nowadays we're always on the best of terms. And when Andover and Exeter men go to college, they stand together. \" \" That's what I've been trying to say,\" said A1 Mason. \" They're a better lot than we were, and people ought to stop criticizing them. It's a great school, and the boys in it, taken as a whole, are all right. I watched them in the society house.\nand we heard them talk when they didn't dream that anyone was listening \u2014 and they will. What middle-aged men want to do is remember that we ourselves had warm blood in our veins once. God help this poor old world if it ever hardens of the arteries! \" We do seem pretty venerable, I imagine,\" said Charlie Foster. \" Last summer I was talking with a little fellow about six or seven about Andover. He asked me about its history, and I explained that it was founded during the Revolutionary War. 'And you've been there all the time since then, haven't you, Uncle Charlie?' said the boy, with his eyes popping out of his head. That shows what the young really think of us.\" \"It's the heart that counts, not the body,\" said Mr. Loring. \"And you'll always be young in spirit!\"\nWith which complimentary remark shall we join the ladies, said Professor Foster. And the talk, when they reached the drawing room, took another turn. The men had had their innings. Conversations like these helped Oscar understand something of Andover's history, and he bought a book that sketched its foundation and early development. It pleased him to think that the school, - his school, - dated back to the days when Washington was keeping up the courage of his half-starved troops at Valley Forge, when our national government was in the making. Like most boys, he was a conservative in temperament, and he was glad that the academy maintained its ancient traditions. His one deep regret, as he drew nearer his graduation, was that he had not been sent to Andover for the full course. Just as he was beginning to appreciate it.\nHe amazes his mother. Its influence, he would have to leave it. There were moments when the thought of departure made him feel depressed. Meanwhile, the spring term hastened to a close. For a week after the track meet, everything centered around baseball. Nobody talked any longer about what Oscar and Len Whitney had done on the previous Saturday; the students were busy speculating what Steve Fisher would be able to do in the pitcher's box and how many hits Bill Jones would make. Oscar went with the school to Exeter, sitting on the way up in the train just across the aisle from Steve Fisher and his father, the Reverend James Fisher, and taking a keen delight in the tales which the latter, who had played on the nine in 1883, had to relate. The game turned out to be the most hair-raising ever held between the two schools. Again and again it was a nail-biting contest.\nExeter seemed to be gaining the upper hand. The Andover team was undoubtedly overconfident, and this attitude is always dangerous in an Andover-Exeter contest. But Steve Fisher was cool in tight places, and in the last inning, with the score tied and two men out, Van Jackson, Andover\u2019s catcher, knocked a grounder to the left of first base, bringing in Dave Williams from second. The game was won by a score of six to five.\n\nIt had indeed been a glorious year \u2014 an \"annus mirabilis,\" as Professor Foster called it \u2014 with victories for Andover in three major sports. The boys did their best at the celebration, but there were evidences that they were satiated with success. Oscar took part in the parade, wondering the whole time whether it were really true that just a week before he had sat in the barge and had been.\nSteve was drawn about the streets as he was being drawn now. He stood on the edge of the crowd with Bull Taylor, watching the huge fire flame up and listened to the speeches and tired cheers.\n\n\"I wonder whether college can possibly be as good as this!\" he said to Bull.\n\n\"I don't know,\" answered Bull, \"and I may never get a chance to find out. But if it can beat this, it must be wonderful!\"\n\nMrs. Harris, who had spent the winter in Egypt and the spring at Mentone, felt obliged to come to the United States for her son's graduation and had, therefore, sailed early in June from Cherbourg on a liner which landed in Boston. Oscar, whose scholastic record was creditable, found no difficulty in persuading the Head to allow him to meet her on the dock. After wandering rather helplessly along the waterfront, he found her.\nFinally, I ascertained where Scythia was to land and waited patiently for some hours until the vessel discharged her passengers. Meanwhile, Mrs. Harris gazed from the upper deck with longing eyes at the shore, hoping to have a glimpse of her child, but she could see no one who resembled him. Clearly, she thought, he had been unable to obtain the necessary leave, and she would not see him until she reached Dover. It was a disappointment. She walked down the gangplank with two stewards carrying her hand-baggage and resigned herself to the prospect of a lonely three or four hours. But as she put foot on the dock, a tall young man in neat flannels and a straw hat seized her in his arms and gave her a hug which threatened to crush her collarbone.\n\n\"Why, Tenny,\" she cried, as she disengaged herself, rearranged her hat, and smoothed down her dress.\nHer hair, \"How rough you are! It's just like being embraced by a bear! You don't seem like my boy, any more!\"\n\n\"Rough! Why, Mother, that was a demonstration of affection. I was merely giving you the glad grapple!\"\n\nMrs. Harris stopped patting her dress and turned to look at her son. Was this the boy she had left behind, \u2014 this young giant so obviously accustomed to slang? She inspected him carefully. He had evidently grown broader of shoulder and much heavier. His legs were no longer mere spindles and his face was fuller. His skin was brown, and, although he still wore tortoiseshell glasses, there was a sparkle in his eyes which she had never seen there before. He seemed to resemble someone she had known! Oh, yes! That was it! He was getting to look exactly like his father \u2014 the same firm jaw, winning smile.\nSmile and erect carriage. The resulting memory was almost overpowering. There was a further change, moreover, which impressed Mrs. Harris. Her son was no longer a boy or a youth, but a man. He bore himself with complete independence, as if he feared no one.\n\n\"Now, Mother, where are all your bags? I'll see whether I can put it across with these customs harpies.\" Alfred had never behaved in this fashion before. Actually, he was taking care of her, whereas she had always watched over him.\n\nMrs. Harris stopped patting her dress and turned to look at her son.\n\nHe amazes his mother (He amazes his mother - Page 2i)8.\n\nShe rather liked this new system. It was what the boy's father had done for many years. Alfred was moving with the assurance and speed of one who is accustomed to getting things done. He seemed to know how to say a few pleasant words to the inspector and secure his help.\nMrs. Harris was bewildered by Alfred's efficiency in handling customs. In a short time, they were done and Alfred conjured up a taxicab. \"I thought you might like to have tea before the ride to Andover,\" he said as they entered the lobby. \"How thoughtful you are, Alfred! You're just like your father,\" Mrs. Harris replied. \"Oscar!\" the boy hesitated as they took their seats at the table, \"would you mind dropping the Alfred and the 'Tenny' and calling me Oscar? That's what everyone calls me at school, and I'm used to it.\"\n\"300 THE ANDover Way\nment. \"Why Oscar? I don't see where you got that name?\"\n\"I don't, either,\" confessed the young fellow. \"Steve Fisher gave it to me last fall for no reason whatever, and it's stuck. Funny, isn't it? There's a chum of mine named Oliver, and he is always called Four Joe\u2014 why, I haven't the slightest idea. But I rather like my new name. You know I've always hated Alfred, and I'm not keen for Tenny either. I'll try to call you that if you like, Oscar. But it does sound a little queer at first. I tried to give you a name that nobody could shorten up, \u2014 and look at the result! \"\n\"Well, it isn't as bad as some names. There's a man on the faculty named Claude. That's terrible! Anyhow, Oscar's all right!\"\nMrs. Harris, as she poured the tea and put in the four lumps of sugar that young people usually prefer.\n\"Mrs. Harris wanted and had another look at her son. \"Why, Oscar, you're wearing a soft collar, aren't you? And where did you get that gaudy necktie?\" \"Gosh, Mother, if I wore a stiff collar out there, I'd get jollied for fair.\" Mrs. Harris did her best to keep her horror from showing on her face. When she had left her son behind in September, he was precise in his speech and accurate in his language. Now he had lost entirely the slightly English accent of which she was proud; and he was employing idioms of which she had never heard. But she did not fail to recognize the fact that he had not become vulgar. He was still just as much of a gentleman as ever, and even his clothing, though less formal than she liked, was neat and clean. \"Where's your top-coat? I didn't see you wearing it.\"\"\nMrs. Harris asked, anxiously, \"Did you forget your top-coat, you didn't leave it at the dock, did you?\"\n\n\"My top-coat! Why, Mother, I haven't any. I haven't worn an overcoat for months. Not since the snow left the ground.\"\n\n\"How do you keep from catching cold?\"\n\n\"Great Scott, I don't know. Taking lots of exercise and a cold shower every morning, I guess.\"\n\n\"A cold shower every day! Do you mean to say, Alfred Harris, that you take a cold bath every day?\"\n\n\"I sure do. And, Mother, please remember that my name is Oscar.\"\n\n\"All right, Oscar. I'll try to keep it in mind. But it's not easy.\"\n\n\"Did I write you, Mother, that I had got my 'A' for winning against Exeter in a relay race?\"\n\n\"No, you didn't. In what subject was that?\"\n\n\"No, Mother dear, not that. I mean my 'A' for winning the relay race.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say that you ran a mile?\"\nI. Why I haven't let you run at all! Your heart is weak.\n\nII. I'll never admit it, Mrs. Thomas Walker Harris. I won the mile since then, too. And I nearly broke the record, besides. I wish you could have been there.\n\nIII. I'm glad I wasn't, answered Mrs. Harris, with a shudder. I should have been worried to death.\n\nIV. Oscar was troubled and alarmed. He wanted desperately to explain some things to his mother, but he did not wish to offend or hurt her. He began in a rather apologetic manner.\n\nV. Mother, should you mind if I said something before we get out to the school?\n\nVI. No, of course not.\n\nVII. Well, I'll try to make it clear. You see, Andover is a place with all sorts of peculiar customs,\nIf the fellows there think you aren't manly or independent, they make fun of you. You mustn't treat me or speak to me as if I were a child in a baby carriage. If you act as if I were a piece of porcelain, I'll be ridiculed. His mother's face looked puzzled, and Oscar translated, \"I mean, I'll be ridiculed.\"\n\n\"Now,\" he went on, \"the fellows up there may not seem to you like the English boys we used to meet, but they're really wonderful, and nobody can be finer than they are. You have to understand us Americans to realize our splendid traits.\"\n\nThis last was to Mrs. Harris a delightful touch, \"us Americans!\"\n\nMrs. Harris, in spite of her nervousness about her child, was really a sensible woman. The bereavement which she had suffered had, it is true, left her shaken.\nShe was apprehensive but based on ardent affection. She had been taught much by her husband and could understand what Oscar was attempting to get at. Oscar's letters had opened her eyes to the fact that the father's character was beginning to assert itself in the son. It would take her some time to adjust to changed conditions, but she was ready to do her best.\n\n\"Look here, Oscar,\" she said after she had sipped her tea and regained control of herself, \"I don't want you to be ashamed of your mother, and I'm going to try to do just what will please you. You'll have to be patient if I make a few mistakes at first. I'm a foreigner now, and you may have to teach me how to be an American.\" She smiled as she thought of Oscar's phrase: \"us Americans!\"\n\"That's all right, Mother. You're the prettiest mother that anyone in the class can show, and I shall be proud to take you around. You'll get used to everything in a hurry.\" The tables were completely turned. When she had brought Oscar to Andover, she had attended to every detail. Now she had Oscar to wait on her. Mrs. Harris, as she rode out in the train, through Wakefield and Reading and Ballardvale, kept pondering on her problem. It was going to be hard for her not to recommend rubbers for him when it rained, but she would have to keep still. The boy had outgrown some of his former ways, but she was sure that she preferred him as he now was. She had nurtured a boy who had obviously become a man, and must be treated as such.\n\nAs he towered above her on the platform of the Andover station, making arrangements for our journey.\"\nShe could see the resemblance to his father in him again. Tears filled her eyes at the recollection, but she stepped aside for a moment and dried them with her handkerchief. She must not make a fool of herself. And when he left her at the Phillips Inn for a rest before dinner, she was resolved to act so that Alfred would be glad to exhibit her to his friends.\n\nChapter XIII\nTHE HERO CLOSES THE YEAR\n\nMrs. Harris had arrived on the Friday preceding Commencement Week, just in time to attend all the festivities. Oscar had decided where she was to stay, what invitations she was to accept, and even the hours when she would attend each event.\nShe was supposed to rest and had to adhere to his program. Her sensations upon finding out she was being \"bossed\" are a little difficult to analyze. At first, she protested, but she quickly saw that this did no good whatever; the boy, like his father, merely kept straight on in his course, saying very little but waving aside all criticisms. Altogether, he was a rather forceful personality, whom it was impossible to withstand. It was certain that he had character. Somehow, the school had brought out all his good traits and eradicated many of his former weaknesses.\n\nA night's reflection quite reconciled Mrs. Harris to the situation, and she appeared at breakfast entirely composed and looking very girlish and attractive. She was, of course, still a young woman, and she had left off her mourning black when she\n\n(End of Text)\nMrs. Harris returned to the United States, deciding to devote herself to her son rather than her husband's memory. It was a satisfying experience for her to notice Oscar's pride as she appeared in the latest Parisian hats and gowns. With her light hair, slender figure, and vivacious manner, she seemed more like his sister than his mother. Sons are critical on such occasions, but Oscar expressed himself as entirely satisfied.\n\nNow that her mind was adjusted to the conditions, Mrs. Harris amused herself by studying her stalwart son to see exactly what Andover had done to him. In the Phillips Inn with her were other parents of boys in the graduating class, many of them of the \"doting\" kind.\nOscar was much disliked. Each mother began by boasting about her son's achievements and Mrs. Harris was often grateful that she could say, \"Yes, my boy is a member of K.P.N., and the best mile-runner on the track team.\" After this ritual had been performed and the matter of boyish diseases and tendencies had been covered, the parents fell back on the more general but always fascinating topic of Andover's influence on its students. Not every mother was as pleased as Mrs. Harris. There were some who felt their sons had been submerged in the crowd; others complained their boys had not received enough personal attention from the teachers; occasionally one would be convinced\nMrs. Harris listened attentively as people spoke about Willie doing better somewhere else. Mrs. Harris, who knew little about other American schools, acquired useful information, particularly when she inquired about Johnny from Oscar and was told the painful truth - that Johnny was lazy or conceited or \"footless.\" Convinced of the truth in Stephen Leacock's remark, \"Some men would have been what they are, no matter what they were!\", on Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Harris was invited to the Head's house for tea, and in the seclusion of a quiet corner, had an enlightening conversation with him.\n\n\"Ah, Mrs. Harris,\" he said as he shook her hand cordially, \"it's nearly a year since we met,\".\nI recall your call just before you sailed for Europe. Has your boy Oscar changed at all since you saw him last?\n\n\"Indeed he has! Meeting him again is like taking an excursion into an unfamiliar country. Now and then I can detect a trace of his old self, but he\u2019s really an entirely different person. I\u2019ve had to get reacquainted with him.\"\n\n\"I can readily imagine it. He is not very much like the puzzled youngster who brought me some free verse last fall or who tried to smoke a cigarette on the portico of the Main Building.\"\n\nHe told Mrs. Harris the two stories, laughing as he did so. \"Those incidents show how he began his career. Any ordinary boy could not have recovered from the shock. But Oscar has a happy faculty for learning by experience. Each mistake that he has made has taught him something.\"\nI have been wondering just what happened. What magic charm did you employ to effect such a transformation?\n\n310 THE ANDOVER WAY\n\nWe did very little but provide the opportunity, Mrs. Harris. The inevitable course of Nature did the rest. Here was a boy who came of sound stock, whose body, feeble though it seemed to be, was naturally strong, and whose will, though it was untried, was resolute. He had never been placed in an environment where his powers could develop. We didn't put anything into him; we just drew it out. That's what education means, you know\u2014the Latin e-ducere, to draw out. My only regret is that he could not be here longer. He is only just beginning to show his strength. In college, he will make a brilliant record. I have watched him carefully, and I know. I have been especially interested in what he was doing.\nMrs. Harris spoke about her son, who never mixed with other boys but now knew everyone in school. There wasn't a snobbish air about him, she noted. \"This is an Andover tradition,\" she boasted. \"The school values a lad for who he is and what he does, not his family background. No democracy could be fairer, and it's typically American.\"\n\nConcluding her conversation with the Head, Mrs. Harris reminded him of their previous discussion as another mother approached, hoping for a word. \"I have never forgotten your words to me as I left your house last fall,\" she added, noticing the other mother's intent. \"And I want to say that every single item in your prophecy has come true.\"\nThe Head had fulfilled his duty. \"I'm not always as fortunate as that,\" he laughed, turning to confront a mother whose son, due to a failure in English, would not receive a diploma. Another phase of his complex and interesting task was before him, as he was obliged to explain failures as well as successes.\n\nMrs. Harris urged Oscar to invite several of his friends to dinner at the Inn that evening, in an effort to get better acquainted with them. At six-thirty, a little group gathered in one of the private dining-rooms, including some representative leaders of the school - Bull Taylor, Kid Wing, Joe Watson, Spider Drummond, Barnett Wright, and, of course, Hal Manning. On one side, Mrs. Harris had placed Bull; on the other, Hal. The contrast between them was not so striking as the similarity. It is true that Hal's countenance was more refined, but Bull's spirit shone through his rough exterior.\nThe Bostonian's speech was marked by a closely clipped accent, with a broad \"a\" and slurred \"r's.\" Bull's pronunciation was more nasal, and he often omitted final \"g's.\" Yet both were gentlemen, with careful table manners and unfailing courtesy. Both were masters of the mysterious slang language that had initially puzzled Mrs. Harris, and both were neatly dressed in the fashion prescribed by Andover conventionality that year. They met on absolutely even terms. Each had achieved something in school life, and was considered a man not only by personality but also by accomplishment. Each had been elected to one of the best fraternities in the academy. However, one had a large allowance, while the other waited on table and ran a laundry agency to support himself.\nThrough school, Hal would step out of college into a brokerage firm where his path to success would be made smooth, and partnership eventually awaited him. Bull, no matter what he undertook, would have to work up slowly, with no influence behind him. Yet both were typical Andover products, and Mrs. Harris was inclined to believe that, at the end of a quarter of a century, Bull's achievement in life, measured by the things that really count, might be as great as Hal's.\n\nAs she chatted with them and listened to their stories, Mrs. Harris was constantly watching to see how these boys treated Oscar\u2014whether there was any condescension or superciliousness in their attitude. So far as she could observe, Oscar was on even terms with them in every respect. Occasionally, when the conversation would turn in a different direction, Mrs. Harris would observe the interaction between the boys and Oscar more closely.\nhis direction and he would tell some anecdote. She could not believe that he was her son, so much he seemed like a stranger. She noticed that, as a host, Oscar attended to every detail and made sure that each guest had a good time.\n\nThe talk turned to church services. \"I certainly hope that the minister tomorrow will not compare life to a football game,\" said Kid Wing, introducing the topic. \"We've had four sermons like that since Christmas, and we're all tired of that figure of speech.\"\n\n\"That must be funny,\" said Mrs. Harris. \"Do you keep track of sermons as closely as that?\"\n\n\"I certainly do, Mrs. Harris,\" replied Kid.\n\n\"Why, last year we had three sermons in succession, by three different men, on exactly the same text - something about the Prodigal Son. And then one minister came here twice during the same week and preached the same sermon both times.\"\nThe same sermon from term to term, he forgot he had delivered it here before. \"The worst,\" said Hal Manning, \"was the time there was a mania for reciting a poem that ended 'Play up! Play up! and play the game!' I suppose it has something to do with cricket. Almost everybody who spoke in chapel all during the spring term would end up by dropping his voice to a low, impressive tone and saying, 'And now, my friends, there is a well-known poem which sums up the spirit of this ancient school.' Once Dolly Loring, that's the teacher, Mrs. Harris, who never goes to church anyhow and knew nothing about what was happening, closed his recitation by saying, 'Gentlemen, there's a little poem that I should like to read.'\"\n\"read you because it so beautifully illustrates what I\u2019ve been saying,\" he began. \"There's a breathless hush in the Close tonight \u2013 Ten to make and the match to win! Every fellow in the class knew how it ended,\" he reached the last line of the first stanza, \"HE CLOSES THE YEAR 315. They all joined in: \"But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote \u2013 Play up! Play up! and play the game! \u2019 It was so funny that the whole class was shrieking with laughter. Of course Dolly was peeved for a minute, but then somebody explained the joke and he saw the fun in it. He's always a good sport.\"\n\nMrs. Harris could have sat until midnight listening to these entertaining tales of undergraduate life, but the guests had to leave for their society meetings, and the party broke up by nine o'clock. The dinner had been for her a liberal education.\nShe took a chair by the window of her room, looking out over the campus. From the terrace in front of Phillips Hall came the music of familiar tunes, sung by the seniors assembled there to get cool on a hot night. She went to sleep with a feeling that she was dwelling in the midst of romance.\n\nMrs. Harris wanted to attend the church service on Sunday morning, and Oscar took a seat with her in one of the rear pews, feeling a little peculiar out of his accustomed bench. His mind was not on the sermon. At first, he wondered whether the clergyman would use the time-worn text, but when it became apparent that he was to speak on something else, the boy lost interest. In his reverie, he went back to the morning when he had first taken his place in chapel.\nand he had looked around at the colored windows and the memorial tablets on the walls. Every once in a while, one of Oscar\u2019s acquaintances, usually Ted Sherman, would stir up an argument against compulsory church and chapel, and would put up rather a plausible plea for his side of the case. But here, as he sat with the school in a body, Oscar realized that mere logic meant nothing. It was sentiment which counted, so far as church was concerned. Oscar thought that he should like to have his sons and grandsons sit in these seats as he had done and drink in, so to speak, the spirit of the old academy. Suddenly he heard the clergyman announcing the closing hymn, \u201cOnward, Christian Soldiers!\u201d He smiled to think that he had been there for half an hour without hearing a word of the sermon. What good, then, had he derived from the experience?\nHe pondered on the problem of why he attended the service. He could only answer by protesting to himself that there was something intangible and indefinite, yet real, which made attendance worthwhile. His mother certainly thought so, as she spoke of it as if it had given her inspiration for the day.\n\nAs soon as church was over, Mrs. Harris and Oscar set out with Mrs. Manning and Hal in the Mannings\u2019 car for a trip along the Massachusetts North Shore. They first went to Salem, where they saw Hawthorne's House of the Seven Gables. Then they continued along the rocky coast to Magnolia, where they stopped for a picnic lunch on the boulders overlooking Gloucester Harbor and the reef of Norman's Woe. The mournful sound of the bell-buoy could be heard from there.\nThe wreck of the Hesperus floated to them across the waves. Hal stood on a lofty point and declaimed in a theatrical tone: \"Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe!\" As they sat there out in the warm June air, the harrowing tragedy of the good ship Hesperus seemed very remote and improbable. After lunch, they motored to Ipswich and Newburyport, with its long High Street lined with lovely colonial homes, and then to Amesbury, where they stopped to visit Whittier's birthplace. Here, Oscar came back at Hal with a still less suitable poem, and, posing under the hot sun, quoted from Snow-Bound:\n\ni\nUnwarmed by any sunset light,\nThe grey day darkened into night,\nA night made hoary with the swarm\nAnd whirl-dance of the blinding storm\nAs zigzag, wavering to and fro,\nMrs. Harris and Mrs. Manning crossed and recrossed the winged snow, bringing their literary pilgrimage to an end. They returned to Andover just in time for chapel, completing a seventy-mile journey through one of New England's most beautiful countryside sections.\n\nMrs. Harris and Mrs. Manning watched as the procession of seniors came down the Elm Arch, with Professor Bannard leading as Chief Marshal. Inside the chapel, they had seats beside the Reverend James Fisher, Steve's father. The Baccalaureate Sermon was preached by a young Andover graduate named Boynton, who spoke simply and directly about fundamental virtues like sincerity, loyalty, and patriotism. With moving eloquence, he referred to Andover men who had displayed these qualities in times of crisis \u2013 to Jack Wright, the unnamed subject.\nA young \"poet of the air,\" who had sacrificed his life for a noble cause in the World War at eighteen, and Schuyler Lee, who had been killed in combat with four of the enemy, were the subjects of the story. It told of \"Tom\" Harris, who had fallen desperately wounded while going over the top in the Argonne Offensive. If he had known that Major Harris's wife and son were in the congregation, he would not have mentioned that hero. But Mrs. Harris bore herself admirably, though she was unable to restrain her tears. Oscar merely sat up straighter, proud that he had such a father. The clergyman closed his reference to Major Harris with a fitting quotation from Wordsworth's poem: \"This is the Happy Warrior; this is He That every Man in Arms should wish to be.\" He did not know until afterwards that the Head told him after.\nMrs. Harris was kept busy in the following days. Oscar took final animations in his courses and seemed unfazed. Afternoons were filled with teas with faculty friends and three dinner invitations. Mrs. Harris attended all Commencement Week events, from the organ recital to the Promenade. One evening featured a Dramatic Club performance, another the Potter Prize Speaking contest where Hal placed first, and another a Musical Clubs concert. Oscar amused his mother by apologizing for not being in the Musical Clubs.\nAs he explained, he made up his mind during the winter term when ambition developed in his soul to try out for every school or organization. When a call was issued for candidates for the Glee Club, Oscar appeared before Dr. Schleiermacher, ready for the ordeal.\n\n\"Have you ever done any singing?\" asked the Director of Music.\n\n\"No, none to speak of,\" admitted Oscar.\n\n\"What makes you think that you can do well enough to make the Glee Club?\"\n\n\"Well, I don't seem to be good for much else, and I thought I would give this a try, sir.\"\n\nHE CLOSES THE YEAR 321\n\nThe patient Dr. Schleiermacher smiled tolerantly and then told Oscar to run up and down the scale. The boy threw back his head, opened his mouth, and emitted a series of sounds. The result was astounding. Oscar could sing.\nPlay the piano very well indeed, and he knew the theory of harmony; but he had no control whatsoever over his voice. Dr. Schleiermacher listened a moment, beat with his fist on the back of a seat, and said, \"Stop!\" Oscar paused, and the teacher said, \"Harris, are you making fun of me?\"\n\n\"No, sir, no, sir, of course not!\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say that that noise is your natural singing voice?\"\n\n\"Well, I never heard anything quite like it. It's unique! It isn't bass or tenor or baritone, \u2014 it\u2019s more like snare. Now I tell you what to do. You go home quietly and say nothing about that voice of yours, and perhaps nobody will ever find out what it\u2019s like. But if the other fellows ever do find out, I\u2019m afraid for your life. I'll try to keep your secret.\"\n\nLaughing heartily, Oscar asked, \"You don't think that I have any disease, do you, sir?\"\nTHE ANDOVER WAY\n\"No, not as bad as that. But if I were you, I should consider having my tonsils removed and my adenoids cut out. Then, perhaps, the pain would be less for the hearers.\" Oscar could see that Dr. Schleiermacher was joking, but he nevertheless beat a retreat as quickly as possible, abandoning all his musical aspirations from that time forth. When Mrs. Harris heard this tale, she smiled. \"You're just like your father again,\" she said. \"He couldn't sing a note, and yet he would insist on taking part in singing the hymns in church. It used to be agony for anybody near him.\"\n\n\"I'm different from him in one way, then,\" replied Oscar. \"For I've learned enough now never to open my mouth when there's anything of that kind going on.\"\n\nCommencement Day itself was full of exciting moments for Mrs. Harris. It was perfect June.\nShe stood with Steve Fisher's father watching the graduation procession of students and distinguished guests march around the campus to the music of the stirring Andover songs played by the band. She was pleased to see Oscar's name listed as a member of the Cum Laude Society, and was just as delighted as Mr. Fisher when Steve was awarded the Yale Cup for the best scholar and athlete combined, and the Fuller Prize, voted to the senior best representing the ideals of Andover. Oscar himself received one of the Goodhue prizes in English and went through the publicity of the long walk down the aisle to the platform, accompanied by applause.\nThe Otis Prize, given for \"the greatest general improvement,\" was awarded to Joe Watson. When it was announced, Mr. Foxcroft, the Registrar, sitting near Mrs. Harris, leaned over and said, \"If it had not been expressly stipulated that the winner must have been three years in Andover, your son would have taken that prize without any doubt.\"\n\n\"I mighty glad that Joe did get it,\" answered Mrs. Harris. \"He deserves some recognition for what he has accomplished. I have heard a great deal about him.\"\n\nJust then the Head stepped forward once more, evidently for the purpose of making another significant announcement.\n\n\"There is a surprise waiting for us this year, \u2014 an unusual event. I beg leave to introduce Dr. Fullerton, of New York City.\"\n\nDr. Fullerton arose and spoke: \"Ladies and gentlemen, I am here merely as a representative.\"\nThe representative of Mrs. Aten, donor of the Brooks-Bryce Prizes for essays on amicable relations between the United States and Great Britain, announced the winner of the national competition as Alfred Tennyson Harris of Andover. The name was met with tremendous applause, and everyone looked in Oscar's direction. The Head beckoned him to the platform, where Dr. Fullerton handed him a silver goblet nearly a foot high and an envelope containing a check for one hundred pounds to be expended on a trip to Europe.\nOscar received an overwhelming ovation as he fondled the huge cup in his hands, making it impossible for him to speak. He nodded his head and returned to his seat like a man in a daze. Mrs. Harris' heart was so full that she could only smile through her tears in response to the congratulations from those around her. After the exercises, she met Oscar and they strolled up the Elm Arch.\n\n\"Well,\" she said after they had escaped the crowd, \"you're getting to be a good deal like a storybook hero, aren't you? First, you save a boy from a fire; then you win a mile run against the rival school; and now you walk off with a trophy big enough for a giant! The only thing left for you to do is to have a beautiful heiress fall in love with you.\"\n\"For the present I'm satisfied with you,\" answered Oscar, smiling at her. \"Besides, not even you could ever call me handsome.\"\n\n\"No, I suppose that you are not exactly classical in your features. You have what is called a \u2018strong\u2019 face,\" said Mrs. Harris.\n\n\"Strong is right!\" replied Oscar. \"I know what that means, \u2014 it's a mild way of saying \u2018homely as a hedge fence.\u2019\"\n\n\"Well, you suit me,\" concluded Mrs. Harris, as she left Oscar at the Gymnasium. \"I'm like all foolish mothers, \u2014 I wouldn't have you changed a thing. In the evening came the Promenade, the closing feature of Commencement Week. Although Oscar had been during his European years what might have been called a \u2018fusser,\u2019 he had, since his arrival in Andover, neglected whatever opportunities had been thrown in his way for meeting others.\"\nAs the spring dance approached, he was urged by several friends to take their sisters as escorts.\n\n\"Betty is really a pretty decent sort,\" admitted Kid Wing, suggesting the possibility of Oscar being Betty's escort. \"She's a bit old - eighteen - but she would do very well for you, Oscar. Why not be a sport and ask her? That will let me take a Dana Hall girl I want to bring.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry not to help you out,\" was Oscar's answer. \"I know that your sister is a 'peach,' but I've got my mother to look out for. She looks almost like a girl, and she's just as slim and graceful as any of these flappers.\"\n\nIt had been some years since Mrs. Harris had danced, and she hated to admit to Oscar how much she looked forward to the Promenade. The Gymnasium presented a very gay appearance, decorated with festive decorations.\nas it was with banners of every hue and educational institution, Mrs. Harris took her place among the older ladies. But she was not allowed to remain there long. After Oscar had danced with her, she became one of the most popular partners on the floor, and his friends repeatedly \"cut in.\" Furthermore, Oscar introduced her to several bachelor members of the faculty, who certainly did their best to give her a good time. When Oscar saw that she was well taken care of, he went out and sat under the trees, enjoying the cool night air and watching the Japanese lanterns tossing on their wires among the trees. It had been a full day for him, and he was glad to have a chance to take bearings. Once he caught sight of Steve Fisher and his father looking at the names carved on the base of the monument.\nMemorial Tower, and he saw the older man's hand rest affectionately on his son's shoulder. Then there came to Oscar, as he had never known before, a sense of the loss which he had suffered. When the two had moved along, Oscar strolled over to study the long list again. There it was, his father's name, THOMAS W. HARRIS, almost at the head of the Roll of Honor. Something swelled in his throat as he looked at the letters. Then, with a sigh, he turned away, to go back to his mother and the gayety by which she was surrounded.\n\nCHAPTER XIV\nTHE HERO SAYS HIS FAREWELLS\n\nIt was a gloriously warm and hazy morning in late June on Andover Hill. Again four perfectly healthy young men were stretched out lazily on the grass in front of George Washington Hall, in attitudes which expressed disdain for all forms of work or responsibility.\nAs college examination week drew to a close, the quartette should have been intensely focused on their studies, preparing for the next test. However, there was a summer languor in the air, making it difficult for these recent graduates to settle down to business.\n\n\"Well, we're honest-to-goodness alumni at last!\" exclaimed Hal Manning. \"And I've locked my 'dip' safely away in my trunk.\"\n\n\"I never thought I'd make it,\" commented Joe Watson. \"But somehow at the last moment, all the 'professors' had an attack of generosity, and they let me through. Let no one tell me again that teachers are hard-hearted.\"\n\nTHE ANDOVER WAY\n\n\"They simply couldn't stand having you around here any longer,\" remarked Ted Sherman, who, as usual, was ready with a jibe at one of his companions.\nfriends. Haven't you kept them worried for three long weary years? I should think that they would be willing to stretch their consciences to the limit in order to get you out of the way.\n\nWell, Ted, answered Joe, who was not too sleepy to retaliate, I haven't heard yet that the Trustees are going to offer you a position on the faculty.\n\nGood for you, Joe! On the contrary, I've been informed confidentially that the Head realizes Ted's corrupting influence on the young!\n\nBy the way, what kind of a job did 'Dad' Warner wish on you yesterday? inquired Hal, referring to the fact that Mr. Warner, the Alumni Secretary, had asked Steve to come to see him.\n\nOh, he just wants me to be a Class Agent, \u2014 that's what he calls it, \u2014 and collect money from you fellows later on for the Alumni Fund.\nI believe me, I'll do it, if I have to perpetrate an assault on each one of you. And when you get to be millionaires, I'll compel you to build a dormitory apiece.\n\n\"His Farewells\" by S.S. Van Dine (Chapter 11)\n\n\"By that remote date most of us shall have forgotten Andover,\" said Ted.\n\n\"Not on your life!\" ejaculated Hal. \"I'm sure, for one, that no college can ever mean to me what this place does! \"\n\n\"That's the way I feel,\" added Joe. \"I've grown up here, and I'm coming back just as often as I can, until I get to be a cripple in a wheelchair.\"\n\n\"That's Ted's attitude, too,\" said Steve. \"But he can't resist posing as a cynic. Come now, you grouch, don't you really hate to leave here? Own up.\"\n\n\"Yes, I suppose I do,\" admitted Ted reluctantly.\n\n\"I was sure of it,\" responded Steve. \"Confession is good for the soul, and it won't harm you.\"\nBut I've got to promote that Greek. And he sat up, yawning widely and stretching his arms. \"Who's that over by Pearson Hall?\" inquired Hal. \"Why, that's your disreputable roommate. That's Oscar Harris and his mother,\" Steve replied, as he looked in that direction. \"She's certainly a character, isn't she?\" said Steve. \"I noticed that you fellows danced with her about six times each at the 'Prom.' \" \"Yes, and you missed out,\" replied Hal. \"She is certainly light on her feet, and we got along well together. She told me I was the best dancer on the floor.\" \"That's funny,\" said Ted. \"She told me I was the best partner she had that evening.\" \"Think of that!\" added Joe. \"And she let me know that she had never found a man who danced as well as I did.\"\nas  well  as  I.\u201d \n\u201c  Well,\u201d  said  Steve,  \u201c  it\u2019s  easy  to  see  that  Mrs. \nHarris  is  a  strategist.  No  wonder  she\u2019s  popular! \nNow  I\u2019ve  never  danced  with  her,  but  I  like  her \njust  the  same!  \u201d \n\u201c  Do  you  know,\u201d  said  Joe  unexpectedly,  \u201c  that \nOscar  Harris  is  one  of  the  finest  men  in  our \nclass?  \u201d \n\u201c  Tell  us  something  new !  \u201d  responded  Ted. \n\u201c  Of  course  he  is.  There\u2019s  no  one  better, \u2014 always \nbarring  this  present  irreproachable  company  of \nsaints!  \u201d \n\u201cYou  didn\u2019t  always  think  so,  did  you?\u201d  said \nSteve  significantly,  as  he  stood  up  to  go  to  his \nroom. \nHE  SAYS  HIS  FAREWELLS  333 \nBy  this  time  Oscar  and  his  mother,  who  were \nstrolling  about  in  the  sunshine,  had  come  nearer, \nand  the  other  three  boys  rose  also  to  speak  to \nthem.  They  all  shook  hands  in  the  most  cordial \nway  with  Mrs.  Harris,  who  had  manifestly  be\u00ac \ncome  a  favorite  with  them.  When  they  had \nMrs. Harris said, \"By the way, wasn't it near this spot that I saw you four for the first time?\"\n\n\"That's right, it was,\" Steve recalled.\n\n\"Last fall we were all lying here when you and Oscar came along hunting for Mr. Lynton. It was a day a good deal like this.\"\n\n\"I remember it perfectly,\" Joe added.\n\n\"I have heard something about it,\" said Oscar, with a twinkle in his eye. \"Mother, did you know that Ted Sherman here wanted to bet twenty-five dollars then that I wouldn't last at Andover until Christmas?\"\n\n\"Oh, Mrs. Harris!\" Ted replied, for once really discomfited and blushing very red. \"That was just a joke, that's all!\"\n\n\"Joke nothing!\" Oscar answered. \"You meant every word of it, and it's a marvel that I wasn't 'fired' by Thanksgiving. I can't understand how I managed to last.\"\nI. Standing before the council, I was not warned against returning to the premises or led away like Sherman.\nII. Hal intervened on my behalf. \"Somehow, you've managed to scrape by,\" he said, looking at Ted with a hint of sarcasm. \"Your record is nearly as good as Sherman's.\"\nIII. \"You four have certainly done a lot for Oscar,\" Mrs. Harris remarked. \"He's a little less green than he was in September.\"\nIV. \"We all improve here,\" Steve added.\nV. \"I suppose I ought to say 'Goodbye' now,\" Oscar interjected. \"We leave this afternoon.\"\nVI. \"Where are you going?\" Ted inquired.\nVII. \"We sail for Europe tomorrow. I must spend the Brooks-Bryce prize money on a trip to England, and Mother would like to come along.\"\nThey were in Cornwall and Devon for the summer. Hal asked, \"When shall we six meet again?\" paraphrasing the famous line in dramatic style. Steve answered, \"We shall get together again before long, though we may be at different colleges. And we shall be back on this Hill often. It's the Andover way.\" They shook hands and separated. Within a day or two they were miles from Andover, and their schooldays together were ended. But they had memories which lingered until long after they had grown-up sons in the academy which they loved.", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"},
{"title": "The backs of books", "creator": "Bishop, William Warner, 1871-1955", "subject": ["Libraries", "Librarians. [from old catalog]", "Library science", "Books"], "description": "ix, 338 p. 20 cm", "publisher": "Baltimore, The Williams & Wilkins company", "date": "1926", "language": "eng", "lccn": "26009454", "page-progression": "lr", "sponsor": "The Library of Congress", "contributor": "The Library of Congress", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "mediatype": "texts", "collection": ["library_of_congress", "fedlink", "americana"], "call_number": "6862019", "repub_state": "19", "updatedate": "2019-10-01 17:37:57", "updater": "associate-richard-greydanus", "identifier": "backsofbooks00bish", "uploader": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "addeddate": "2019-10-01 17:37:59", "publicdate": "2019-10-01 17:38:04", "partner_shiptracking": "158GR", "shiptracking": "ST011602", "identifier_bib": "00271327523", "year": "1926", "lc_call_number": "Z665 .B62", "operator": "associate-saw-thein@archive.org", "tts_version": "2.1-final-2-gcbbe5f4", "camera": "Sony Alpha-A6300 (Control)", "scanner": "scribe2.capitolhill.archive.org", "imagecount": "362", "scandate": "20191002170438", "ppi": "300", "republisher_operator": "associate-cherrymay-villarente@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20191003071345", "republisher_time": "1326", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/backsofbooks00bish", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t02z95r4b", "scanfee": "300;10.7;214", "invoice": "36", "openlibrary_edition": "OL27340709M", "openlibrary_work": "OL195794W", "curation": "[curator]associate-denise-bentley@archive.org[/curator][date]20191004173603[/date][state]approved[/state][comment]199[/comment]", "possible-copyright-status": "The Library of Congress is unaware of any copyright restrictions for this item.", "note": "If you have a question or comment about this digitized item from the collections of the Library of Congress, please use the Library of Congress \u201cAsk a Librarian\u201d form: <a href=\"https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html\">https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html</a>", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:1156344405", "backup_location": "ia907002_24", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "97", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1926, "content": "The Backs of Books and Other Essays in Librarianship\nBy William Warner Bishop, A.M.\nLibrarian of the University of Michigan\n\nTHE BACKS of BOOKS AND OTHER ESSAYS IN LIBRARIANSHIP\nBy William Warner Bishop, A.M.\nLibrarian of the University of Michigan\n\nPreface\n\nIf an apology is needed for bringing into collected form these essays on various phases of the librarian\u2019s calling, it may be found in the efforts being made toward increasing the somewhat meagre volume of material for the study of librarianship. I am concerned to rescue these essays and addresses.\nFrom the obscurity of various library bulletins and journals, I hope that my younger colleagues may find something of interest and possible aid to their studies. It may be remarked that while my occasional prophecies have not all been realized, I have found very little in the experience of twenty-five years to cause me to revise or modify the views I expressed in my earlier articles. Whether this puts me down as hopelessly fossilized or really right, I leave to the kindly judgment of my readers.\n\nMy thanks are due to the editors of various journals for their kind permission to reprint these addresses.\n\nCONTENTS\n1. The Backs of Books . 1\n2. The Vatican Library: Some Notes by a Student . 15\n3. The Vatican Library: Twenty-five Years After . 25\n4. Book-Hunting in Rome . 28\n5. Should the Librarian Be a Bibliophile? . 37\n[1. A Decade of Library Progress in America.\n2. The Amount of Help to be given to Readers.\n3. Two Unsolved Problems in Library Work.\n4. Training in the Use of Books.\n5. Cataloging as an Asset.\n6. The Theory of Reference Work.\n7. Leadership through Learning.\n8. Changing Ideals in Librarianship.\n9. Our College and University Libraries: A Survey and a Program.\n10. The Library and Post-school Education.\n11. The American Library Association at the Crossroads.\n12. The Record of Science.\n13. Fashions in Books.\n\nI\nTHE BACKS OF BOOKS\n\nFew men who are called upon to address graduating classes in colleges and schools can refrain from the temptation to usurp the functions of the preacher. Here is an opportunity too tempting to be missed. The familiar surroundings soon to be abandoned,]\nThe eager students facing life-work and the parting of teachers and pupils combine to set the commencement speaker in the way of moralizing on the situation, so well-worn by manifold predecessors, so painfully familiar to every audience of this sort. Try as I may to avoid preaching to you, I too shall probably be found pointing morals, if not adorning tales, for the occasion inevitably lends itself to the giving of gratuitous advice.\n\nHowever, there are some differences between the graduation of a class of prospective librarians and the ordinary school or college commencement. There is the obvious fact, which this class shares with all similar classes in professional schools, that you have been prepared for a specific line of work and are about to enter on the actual practice of your profession. The impending change from theory to practice is a common theme for graduating classes. Yet, there are unique aspects to your impending transition.\n\nFirst, the library profession is undergoing significant changes due to technological advancements. The skills you have acquired in your education will be essential, but you will also need to adapt to new technologies and changing user needs. This requires a commitment to lifelong learning and a willingness to embrace change.\n\nSecond, librarians have always been at the heart of their communities, providing access to information and knowledge. In today's world, this role is more important than ever. You will be called upon to help bridge the digital divide, to provide equitable access to information, and to promote digital literacy.\n\nLastly, the library profession is not just about books and information. It is about people and their needs. You will be working with diverse communities, helping them navigate complex information landscapes, and providing them with the resources they need to succeed.\n\nSo, as you embark on this new journey, remember that your education is just the beginning. The real learning will come from your experiences in the profession. Embrace the challenges, be open to new ideas, and never stop asking questions. The world needs librarians who are passionate, adaptable, and committed to making a difference. I wish you all the best in your future endeavors.\nAddress delivered at the Commencement Exercises, Library School, New York Public Library, June 12, 1914.\n\nThe backs of books are not just for practice faces, but also for graduates of schools of law, medicine, theology, and engineering. However, your situation differs in at least one respect. For years, they, and you, have been listening to lectures, working in laboratories, and studying textbooks. From books, they have chiefly gathered the theory and training they are about to exercise on a more or less unwilling world. But you are to abandon the formal study of individual books as vehicles of knowledge for the practical handling of books in masses for the benefit of other people. In other words, you are to take what you have learned in a few books and apply it to the marshalling and serving of many books in libraries in aid of readers. What you have gained from your education will be used not for your own personal gain, but for the betterment of others through the management of library collections.\nIn theory, is to be applied in practice to the very material from which the theory has been evolved, but the application is no longer for your own benefit, but for another's. Your work therefore will necessarily involve a collection of books as a fundamental basis. Without books, there are no libraries or librarians. It is occasionally necessary for some of us to speak up and say this plainly, for the library press and the discussion at conventions teem with so much talk about methods, ways and means, about library extension, about librarians, that one sometimes wonders what it is all about, and where the books come in. So you will, perhaps, pardon an older librarian for speaking, not about his favorite methods in library work, not about the nobility of our calling, nor even the mission of the librarian, but just a bit about the backs of books.\nA German scholar once told me, \"The main thing is to possess the books.\" This fundamental principle of library economy is often neglected. Without many books, there is no need for this school or this graduating class. The main defect of American libraries may be the exaltation of method over content. Speaking of this in the very home and citadel of method training - a library school - may seem strange or presumptous, but in the building that houses the noble collections of The New York Public Library is both safe and acceptable. I wish to speak briefly on the librarian's knowledge of the books entrusted to his care.\nA librarian's familiarity with library collections: How far can they recall titles and know contents of books in a good-sized library? Is it possible for a truly competent person to remember the names of practically all authors and titles? Definite answers to these questions are difficult. I recall many a librarian who holds in his head many thousand separate titles. He can name different editions and publishers of books he has consulted with an extraordinary quickness. I once asked my honored friend Mr. Anderson H. Hopkins, then assistant librarian of the John Crerar Library, how far he was personally familiar with the books in that institution - I knew they had all passed through his hands.\nThe librarian, whose hands were for the library was new, had a very retentive memory. But I was hardly prepared to hear him say that up to the first sixty thousand volumes purchased, he could recall practically every title. However, above that number, he began to lose track of the accessions. I am convinced that this was no over-statement, for in my own experience, I have met not a few librarians whose knowledge of titles equaled his. Such men as Dr. Spofford and Mr. David Hutcheson of the Library of Congress doubtless knew intimately several times that number. And it is the familiar experience of reference librarians that at least appropriate titles seem often to leap into memory to answer a reader\u2019s demand. The older choice libraries of about one hundred thousand volumes were\nThe backs of books we know well. These solemn rows are seldom disturbed, some less stately ones whose battered appearance and unsteady carriage testify to their popularity. The anecdote of the Kansas legislator who objected to an appropriation for more books for the university library resonates with librarians. \"Mr. Speaker,\" he said, \"I object to spending this money. Why, they've got forty thousand books there at Lawrence now, and I don't believe any one of them professors has read them all yet!\" Neither have we read ours, and yet we know them, and sometimes know them well.\nPersons are constantly seeking material in every library on topics the librarian has never studied and will never study. Unmoved and undismayed by his ignorance of subjects like ballistics, ceramics, or Egyptian tombs, he introduces readers to the relevant books. Readers are often helped materially and feel grateful, sometimes expressing this in print. The competent reference librarian becomes one of the most useful folk imaginable due to their extensive knowledge of book backs and a sense of their relative values.\n\nTHE BACKS OF BOOKS\nHowever, it should not be forgotten that this competence extends beyond the material in hand.\nKnowledge is as much about method as the books or their appearance. Readers are generally unfamiliar with the order in which books have been arranged and the means employed to list them. The librarian's intimate acquaintance with classification and cataloging gives them an advantage over the reader in quickly finding desired books or information. You know the order in which your books fall and the ins and outs of your own catalog. You have at hand all manner of indexes and catalogs of other libraries. So you give a man something to keep him occupied while you hastily look up the things he really wants. And before he has time to thank you, you begin the same process for half a dozen others. So it goes, day in and day out. Of course, the backs of the books become familiar - you live with them.\nOf  course  it  is  easy  to  run  down  \u201caggravating  ladies,\u201d \nand  others  who  have  frequently  changed  their  names \nin  print.  You  do  it  all  the  time.  Of  course  you \nknow  that  the  British  Museum  Catalog  enters \nbiographies  under  the  name  of  the  subject.  That \nfact  has  helped  you  out  of  many  a  tight  place.  It  is \nthis  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  tools  of  the \ntrade  which  makes  for  speed  and  accuracy.  And \nprecisely  those  librarians  whose  memory  for  the \nactual  volumes  on  their  shelves  is  most  retentive \nTHE  BACKS  OF  BOOKS \nare  likely  to  know  best  both  their  tools  and  the \nproper  method  of  using  them.  If  we  can  perform \nwhat  seem  to  the  uninitiated  sleight  of  hand  tricks \nwith  cards  and  books,  it  is  because  we  know  well \ncatalogs,  classification,  indexes.  In  fact,  a  knowl\u00ac \nedge  of  the  classification  in  force  in  the  library  in \nwhich  you  are  working  almost  takes  the  place  (for \nA friend showed me a manuscript letter that appeared to be genuine, addressed to Schiller's sister and written in his handwriting. Despite its aged appearance, it seemed slightly suspicious. I am not a Schiller scholar, having struggled through Wilhelm Tell in college and once leading a class through Die Jungfrau von Orleans. I was unfamiliar with Fritz Jonas's celebrated edition of Schiller's correspondence. However, I knew where the Schiller books were and that there was a set of letter volumes among them. In three minutes, I located the letters.\nI went to the place, found the authoritative-looking set, picked out the year and day of the letter, and discovered a footnote that someone had caused an admirable facsimile of this letter to be lithographed and that efforts were constantly being made to sell it as an original.\n\nThis incident will bear analysis. It is typical of much that goes on in our service. The query was not simple. But the means of answering it to the entire satisfaction of the inquirer consisted merely in a knowledge that there was once a German poet named Schiller, that he had a place in our classification, that his books were shelved in a certain part of our stacks, and that, as a rule, editors arrange correspondence in chronological order. I knew no more about Schiller.\nBut my friend, who is a man of much learning and one of our foremost scientists, is convinced that I can find him anything in German literature he wishes to know. The foundation of real knowledge is slight, and yet it enables us to perform our daily duties. The backs of books help us in many ways, from their shape, size, color, and location. However, this ease in helping people find things can have an unwholesome influence on the librarian's attitude towards the world of knowledge. It can lead him to neglect real and sound study.\n\nThe backs of books.\nThe numbing force of inertia must be reckoned with. We are all busy \u2013 too busy. We move along the lines of least resistance. We content ourselves with knowing the backs of our books, with a familiarity with labels and groupings in lieu of ideas. Too soon you are likely to discover that executive work absorbs the greater part of your powers. Too soon the habit of doing well in your work without much reading and study becomes fixed. If you can recall titles easily, can locate desired information quickly, can send a reader to this or that place where his books are to be found, and meantime keep an eye on the needs of half a score of others, you begin unconsciously to think well of yourself and to ignore the fact that man does not live by bread alone. The wisest man I have ever been privileged to meet\nOnce told me, \"You can be very useful. You can help a great many people. You might do great work. But if you stay in library work, your mind will be an intellectual rag-bag after ten years.\" What is the remedy? Are we to be content with this \"bowing acquaintance\" as Emerson called it, with the bright and parti-colored scraps of information on our shelves? Are we, as librarians, what-ever our own special branch of library work, to incur the just reproach of real ignorance of our wares? Is there any way we may escape the consequences of our calling, our undue outward familiarity with masses of books? It is, of course, impossible, even if it were wise, in this day of large libraries, to recommend an effort to know the insides of all the books, or even of the majority.\nBetter books, in our collections are too many for the most indefatigable reader, not to mention the busy librarian. It is equally unwise to urge you to neglect the knowledge of titles and classification, of the backs of your books. Cultivate that by all means. It means bread and butter, whatever your particular function in a library. But by all means keep yourselves \"sweet,\" as our fathers used to say, by some intensive work which involves study. I have the greatest respect for the man with a hobby \u2014 even if he proves a nuisance at times. Without a hobby, life is not worth living. You should have one \u2014 a real hobby which becomes vastly more important to you than any mere business can be. I would not prescribe the kind of hobby a librarian should ride. My advice, or anyone else's for that matter, would be unavailing. A hobby.\nA hobby, which refreshes in your hours of weariness, attracts when you are lazy, and inspires when you are worn, is precious beyond words. But a hobby, whether golf, gardening, bird-study, or collecting china, or any other expensive and joyous pastime, is not enough to pull a busy librarian from the slough of inertia as regards books. Indeed, it may tend to keep him there, the more if he wisely takes to some sane supreme interest - out of doors. A line of study which is peculiarly your own will do more for you than you can possibly know at this stage of your careers. A small specialty which you have cultivated to the point where you fully understand it will be of greater value than a hobby.\nI know with almost complete fullness the literature of the topic is worth vastly more to you than the mere knowledge you acquire in it. The very fact of intensive study of a small topic keeps you in touch with methods and men, and is an admirable corrective to the scattering tendencies of our calling. I know a librarian who started years ago reading everything he could on our Civil War. He kept it up amid purely executive duties until even specialists in military history now come to him for aid, and the government itself seeks his advice in matters of historical accuracy. He is concerned with the purely business side of a great library, but his extensive knowledge produced by steady reading has kept him in touch with the world of letters in a very vital way. The best man I know in matters economic.\nAnd statistical knows more about English poetry, particularly the minor poets, than any professor of English I ever knew. He is an active librarian, a graduate of a library school, and an \"alumnus\" of The New York Public Library. No librarian need despair if only he sets inflexibly this goal before him, of attaining to productive scholarship. We recall Justin Winsor, who administered able fashion two great libraries and yet edited the Narrative and Critical History, as well as other books; Dr. J. K. Hosmer, whose array of volumes in English and American History is more than the product of mere industry, and whose Color Guard and Thinking Bayonet pulsate with the great struggle of the sixties; Reuben Gold Thwaites, whose monument will be the Jesuit Relations rather than the Wisconsin Historical Society\u2019s library.\nlibrary at Yale, Cincinnati and Chicago are forgotten. Last, and greatest of all, Dr. John Shaw Billings, soldier, physician, author, director of great enterprises, yet a librarian who built up by incessant labor the greatest specialized library in the world, and then at an age when most men seek retirement, with unmatched patience, wisdom and zeal wrought The New York Public Library into an organic whole and housed it in this resplendent palace. With these men in mind \u2014 and others whom time fails me to mention \u2014 who of us shall be content with mere skill in technique, with mere facility of movement among printed things, with mere knowledge of the backs of books?\n\nI said I should probably fall into the habit of the preacher. Full well I remember that professors of homiletics always urge that the sermon should be based on a text. Therefore, let us consider the text before us: the lives and labors of great men who built up libraries, and the importance of going beyond mere technical skills in the field of librarianship.\nClose with an \"application.\" Some of you may be saying, \"I am not to go into reference work. I am to be a cataloger, or to have charge of a branch library, or to aid in library extension. These warnings are not for me.\" But they are for you, and for every one of us librarians. Whatever our peculiar part in library work, we cannot escape the inevitable tendency to treat books as mere vehicles on which we exercise our skill; we cannot fail to gain a certain superficial exterior acquaintance with them. The longer we know and live with the backs of books, the more we shall need the tonic which comes from our own special line of research. Ordinarily, special lists grow narrow but deep; librarians too often grow broad but shallow. Begin now, therefore, when you are starting in to practice your profession, to develop your own special line of research.\nCultivate intensely one field. Hold to it as the years go by. Dig deeply and wisely into the accumulated store of wisdom which the ages have deposited in your little area. And give the world the ripened fruit you have grown. Thus will you give the lie to Mark Pattison\u2019s often misapplied dictum: \u201cThe librarian who reads is lost.\u201d\n\nThe Vatican Library: Some Notes\nBy a Student\n\nNo other library has the associations, the history, or the value of the famous collection of the Vatican. To no other spot do the longings of classical and historical scholars, of librarians, and of paleographers go out as to that secluded and long forbidden reading-room in the east arm of the palace of the Popes. We are accustomed to remember Tischendorf and his hasty notes made on cuffs and thumbnails of readings from the chief treasure of that store.\nThe Codex B of the Old and New Testaments in the Vatican Library, Rome. Cardinal Mai and his \"codices vaticani,\" of which he alone knew the number and worth, along with a host of Catholic apologists and archives, instilled a sense of mystery and buried treasure. This impression remains even after the present pontiff's enlightened liberality has opened the Vatican collections to the learned world as freely as any European library. Scholars' aspirations are not diminished by tales of their brethren, and even disappointed and disgruntled tourists, or \"trippers,\" are spurred on by accounts of the few manuscripts they have seen under glass in the grand halls and galleries. (Library Journal, March, 1900.)\nThe doors of the plain cupboards under the brilliantly frescoed walls hide the thousands of parchment and paper manuscripts in the library from the tourist's sight. The Vatican collections are divided into the archives, the printed books, and the manuscripts. It is with the last of these that we have to do in this paper, although it should be noted that the other departments are also freely opened to those with proper credentials.\n\nTo secure the privilege of the manuscript reading-room, one has simply to come armed with proof that he is a person prepared to make use of the valuable documents in a proper way. With the introduction of the consul, or with other credentials, Americans have no difficulty in securing admission. Fortunately\nThe writer was a member of the American School of Classical Studies in Rome, ensuring a warm welcome from Vatican authorities who were known for their kindness in granting all possible courtesies to the School. During my near-constant attendance of several months, I heard of no one being denied library privileges. In fact, I was often surprised by the library's extreme liberality.\n\nSecuring physical admission is more challenging than obtaining written permission. Guards in various gaudy and somber uniforms block the way with a polite but firm request to state one's business. The words \"Biblioteca\" or \"Father Ehrle\" usually elicit an instant salute and a polite direction. A newcomer's journey up staircases, across courts, and through various rooms is no easy task.\nA visitor passes through galleries to the black, nail-studded door which bears a card requesting him not to enter but apply to another door in the garden for admission. If his Italian has carried him so far, he probably has courage enough to believe that this sign is for the thousands of tourists who throng this gallery several times a week on their way to the Appartamenti Borgia, and pushes on. Once inside, a polite and deferential porter receives his hat and cane. He generally keeps on his outer coat if wise, for to the northerner these enormous palaces of Italy are damp and dangerous. And having climbed over 160 steps from Piazza San Pietro, he is usually so warm that he fears the chill of an unheated room.\n\nThe vestibule to the reading-room in older times was the reading-room itself. Two dark wooden panels formed the room's walls.\nThe Vatican Library, with counters down the sides and equally dark bookcases or lockers, creates a gloom that one window would not much relieve, except for the numerous portraits of former cardinal librarians on the vestibule and reading-room walls. By this window, a woman is usually seated working on a manuscript. Women are not admitted to the sacred precincts of the reading-room itself. In return, the female student gets the best light in the place. It will interest Americans to know that the wife of one of our best-known librarians was the second woman to secure the privilege of studying Vatican manuscripts.\n\nThe reading-room, entered through green baize doors, is a rectangle nearly twice as long as it is broad and high, lighted by two large windows.\nThe north side of the room has windows. Father Ehrle, S.J., the renowned guardian of these treasures, sits at his desk there. He wears the long cassock and black biretta of his order and presides over readers with kind interest. He speaks easily all modern European languages, and his courtesy and good humor seem unfailing. Parallel to the shorter side of the room are four long tables, each with twelve chairs and manuscript racks. Across the end of the room opposite the entrance is a raised platform with red-upholstered seats. These are presumably for officials, as I only saw priests and two of the library's scribes using them. All the furniture is of plain dark wood. On the east side opposite the windows are the ponderous tomes of the Vatican Library.\nThe library contains inventory and catalogs. Near the door is a small counter, behind which an attendant sits to receive applications for manuscripts and maintain tallies. He has one or two assistants who bring documents to him.\n\nThe library, well-known for holding approximately 26,000 manuscripts, is divided roughly into 19,000 Latin, 4,000 Greek, and 2,000 Oriental. These figures do not include archives or the library's 100,000 printed volumes kept on a lower story. In this total are included various smaller collections as well as those known as codices vaticani. An inventory describes every numbered manuscript, but the great catalogs (in manuscript) are exceedingly defective. For instance, the catalog of Greek manuscripts, made over a century ago, soon drove me to the inventory.\nThe smaller collections have been cataloged, and the catalogs well printed. However, since the Palatine manuscripts, which were returned to Heidelberg, have been described in the Palatine catalog without separation or discriminating marks in the index, one is occasionally caught asking for one of these absentees. It is also delightful, even somewhat uncanny, to receive back your slip, as I once did, marked in blue pencil, \"missing since 1682.\" Accordingly, if one wishes to be certain that he has seen all the manuscripts of a certain author in the Vatican, he must search laboriously through the inventory. Some unlucky chap may generally be seen at this task. A friend of mine spent three weeks and a half looking through the inventory of Latin manuscripts in search of a specific one.\nA complete list of Pliny's Letters manuscripts will be rewarded with the inclusion of two previously unpublished ones. Four years ago, Professor Wm. G. Hale discovered a new Catullus manuscript in the same manner. The prospective reader brings their papers to Father Ehrle and is required to write their name and address in a book, along with the specific subject they wish to investigate. They then discover the number of their manuscript and fill out an application blank, a reduced copy of which is printed on page 21. The attendant, who must make a trip of nearly a quarter of a mile to and fro, brings the manuscript to the reader. At the time of departure, a receipt in duplicate is made out on the same slip, one copy of which is retained by the library and one by the reader.\ncase he wishes to consult the same manuscript at the Vatican Library the next day, it is retained for him at the desk. Before leaving the room, he must obtain a ticket to show to the porter. This is given him by the man who receives for the manuscript, ensuring equal justice for both librarian and reader. I ought to add that the attendants are exceedingly courteous, prompt, and obliging. In no other library have I met with more hearty, prompt \u2013 considering the distances \u2013 and polite service. It seldom takes more than 10 minutes to secure a manuscript after the slip has been made out \u2013 and none are so near the desk as the remoter books in any ordinary library, while many are at great distances.\n\nBiblioteca Vaticana.\nN\u00b0. d\u2019Ord.\n\nI, [Signature], declare to have received from the Prefect of the Vatican Library (or by whom he may be deputed)\nThe reader, named below, declares having withdrawn from the described article. For the Prefect,\n[Signature]\n\nThe Vatican Library\nThe readers would provide an enticing study for an artist. All European nations seem represented. When German universities have their recess between semesters in the spring, the place is full. One may see half a dozen or more black cassocks, the high hat of the Greek priest, and a collection of beards and costumes such as can be gathered only in Rome. Occasionally, a famous editor or professor is identified by some German student, and there are always at hand the men who do hack work at transcribing or collating. Yet one may work for days beside a man and know nothing of him until later, he sees in print the work which his neighbor has done. In midwinter and late spring, the room is only half full. Many readers come so frequently.\nThe most entertaining was a little old gentleman who regularly went to sleep and then woke up when he snored. It is exasperating for a librarian to see the careless manner in which many readers handle manuscripts. They are usually bound in full morocco, russia, or pigskin and solidly bound, allowing them to withstand some rough usage. However, it is almost incredible how carelessly ink is used over and near the manuscripts. Care is taken to allow only well-known scholars to use the rarest manuscripts, some of which are not to be had due to their fragility. The amount of noise a few men make in the room is also a source of annoyance to a librarian. But even noise is better than the signs of disrespect some readers show.\nThe silence is displayed in some of our own libraries. The reading-room is closed on Sundays and Thursdays, as well as on numerous saints' days. Between the end of June and the middle of October, it is not open at all. The hours are from nine to one in the fall and winter, and from eight to twelve in spring. These seem short hours, but when one has put in four hours over a crabbed Irish, Saxon, or Visigothic handwriting, or even worse, on a 15th-century Greek theological work, he is glad of an excuse to stop. And on departing, if he is wise, he first goes to the window of the long gallery and looks north to see if perhaps \"alta stet nive candidum Soracte,\" as old Horace has it; and if that good luck befalls him not, he gazes across the city on the Sabines with Monte Gennaro towering over all. Then he slowly makes his way out.\npasses down the long gallery, where 6000 inscriptions invite him to linger. Here he reads a pompous epitaph or two, with about as much truth in them probably as epitaphs generally possess, or learns how the custode of the column of Marcus Aurelius obtained a permit to build him a house with government timber. Or possibly he meditates on the simple words in pace on the memorial slab of some humble Christian. Until even this longest of galleries comes to an end, and the sunshine of the Damascene court brings him back to modern Rome and a consciousness of lunch-time.\n\nThe Vatican Library: Twenty-Five Years After\n\nOld frequenters of the Eternal City are fond of decrying the changes which the needs of the modern capital of Italy have brought in their favorite haunts. The ancient and picturesque rambling town has been transformed.\nThe city will become ugly and noisy, they will tell you, and its former quiet charm has vanished. Changes have been made, if not progress, and even the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana has not escaped. However, the changes at the Vatican Library seem wholly desirable and happy. Begun by Father Ehrle before he was raised to the cardinalate and finished by the present Pope while still he was Monsignore Ratti, these improvements have made the Vatican one of the most comfortable and convenient workshops for scholars to be found anywhere. The printed books and manuscripts have been brought close together, so that access to one brings convenient approach to the other. The new reading room for manuscripts is light, well-ventilated, and eminently comfortable. The manuscripts themselves are brought to it by electric book-lifts.\nThe Vatican Library, with lifts housed beneath the reading room, reduces the time lost in obtaining a manuscript significantly. The service is prompt and courteous. This change is not in spirit but in means of service.\n\nApproach to the Library is now from the west side, near the Picture Gallery entrance. One can enter with a pass through the Court of Damasus, avoiding the long journey around St. Peter\u2019s. However, most readers ride to the Library and walk away due to the Vatican's chill, which hasn't lessened over the years.\n\nThere is an amusing entrance routine. An intending reader, properly introduced and furnished with a permit bearing a passport photograph, signs it.\nA person writes their name in a register, noting the hour and subject of their study. The line bears a number. They then hand in their permit to the guard, who returns a key with the same number. Entering a pleasant court, the reader arrives in an ante-room where they discover their key opens a locker for storing their hat and coat safely. They pass through the library of printed books to the manuscript reading rooms, where they turn in the key and written request for a manuscript, receiving it back once more upon returning the manuscript at the end of their stay.\n\nThe Vatican Library\n\nThey then reverse the process and, after noting the hour and minute of their departure, exchange the key for their permit, which allows them to take the manuscript.\nThe Piazza di San Pietro: head there if he intends that way. It's amusing but sensible for both the Library and the reader. Printed books on open shelves are collected to aid research in manuscripts. Well-arranged and cataloged, one can bring printed books to the reading room for manuscripts as needed, keeping them for some days if desired. Minimal formality, maximum helpfulness. Catalogs are progressing; the first volume of a new series of Greek manuscripts has been issued. The Vatican Library is an excellent place to work, with the greatest storehouse of medieval book manuscripts in the world. Its guardians.\nThe republic of letters deserved well of scholars with Leo XIII's liberal policy, opening its treasures to them with complete freedom and making their work easy and rapid. Notably, women no longer remain relegated to the ante-room but now have the same privileges as men.\n\nBook-Hunting in Rome\n\nThe chief book marts of Europe are an old story to veteran collectors. In London, Paris, Berlin, Leipzig, they have their favorite haunts or trusted agents. Pleasant memories of hours in quaint and dusty stalls, in bright and business-like shops, and in gloomy and cavernous storehouses recur as one names these cities, or fondles the treasures acquired in each. And to the younger collector.\nBook-Hunting in Rome\n\nA tourist whose experiences have not led him yet into these happy hunting-grounds of his chosen pastime, the peculiarities of the great centres, the names of the great dealers, and the possible results of searches in the minor shops, have become well-worn and familiar themes. Rome and other Italian cities are not so well-known as fields for the harvest of old and rare books. And truly, they have been sadly stripped of their treasures by greedy agents and skilled collectors. One can still glean here after the reapers to no small advantage, however, despite the ravages of the spoilers of Italy in this as in many more important matters. There are three or four firms in Rome, mostly Germans, whose catalogs find their way to America, and they control the market.\nThe best finds in the local market. Dealers and bibliophiles are familiar with these items, and I do not intend to exploit their wares. I propose instead to write about opportunities for the individual book-hunter, particularly for him of limited purse and unlimited zeal. I will not delve into the matter of auctions, which in Rome, as elsewhere, result from the death of some collector or dealer. It is sufficient to note that there are a few each year, and important sales are widely heralded and attended by agents of all the significant European houses.\n\nThere is no specific quarter in Rome where booksellers gather. More of them are in the crowded district between the Corso and the Tiber, south of the Via dei Pontifici and north of the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele than anywhere else. However, they can also be found between the Corso.\nAnd on the Quirinal, Via Nazionale, and Esquiline. One runs into them in the most unexpected places, ranging from the large and well-appointed collections of German firms to a few dozen books strung along the sunny side of a church. None of them is to be despised, for one never knows what may turn up in them. I purchased a very early Giunta from a basket of popular songs and dream books in a sunny corner once. A friend of mine picked up the life of the first Bishop of Connecticut from a similar heap alongside the Church of St. Andrea delle Frate. One of Rome's sights is the market or fair, sometimes dubbed the \"rag fair\" by tourists, which takes place every Wednesday in the Campo di Fiori. Here, where Bruno was burned and where his bronze statue now stands, are gathered vendors of various goods.\nEvery imaginable article, not omitting books. The smaller dealers send a cart-load of books to the fair on Wednesdays, and many a pawnbroker and rag picker adds his contribution to their more respectable wares. Books of every conceivable sort and value are displayed on rough tables and in carts, while a crowd jostles all day around them. One should have good care of his pocket-book and a gift for good-natured bargaining if he would buy at Campo di Fiori, and to secure anything of value, he must rise betimes, for the agents of the more important houses skim the cream of the market at its first opening.\n\nThe \u201cfly-by-night\u201d bookshop is not infrequently discovered. Some dealer in old junk, some purchaser of an estate, or some shrewd bookseller with a small income rents a store on a busy street for two or three weeks, attracts a crowd by posters and announcements.\nSigns sells out his stock and is gone before you have become accustomed to finding him there. Most of his wares are veritable trash, but if the hunter has the fortune to arrive soon after the place opens, he may make some finds. It is always wise to be on the lookout for these birds of passage. Occasionally, one comes across a small bottega, where a dealer displays such of his wares as he wishes to dispose of or thinks will sell, while a magazzino behind is carefully sealed from inquiring eyes. Chancing to enter such a place near the Chamber of Deputies one day, I was ignominiously turned out of the back room, piled nearly to the ceiling with books. Nor could any representations or entreaties change the determination of the owner. \"Signore, if you wish any of these books, buy; but no one enters my magazzino.\"\nYes, you Americans are very practical, but it is my custom. Another time, however, a different excuse kept me from the storeroom. It was beneath a church, and the wares above tempted me to explore. But no. \"The signore is without doubt an American, a heretic! A thousand pardons! He cannot come in here. The good fathers would turn me out forever.\" Then, confidentially, \"Only tell me what you want, and I'll bring it out.\" And so he did; a very early edition of Josephus it was, too, well worth the trouble, to say nothing of the fun. Perhaps the richest of all these shops to the inquisitive collector is a shabby corner near the Collegio Romano, where a large fat man and his short fat wife keep a sort of clearing-house for old books. Where they buy them, no one can guess, but new ones frequently appear.\nThis shop is constantly restocked, scrutinized, sold at a small price, and the remaining items go for old paper. It is haunted by priests, collectors, and students, and the jovial proprietor seems to cater equally to the schoolboy seeking an arithmetic book and the lover of Aldines and old bindings. Occasional bargains found here will tempt the book lover to take his afternoon walk in this direction regularly. I could go on endlessly about these curious old shops, but what of their contents? Most of the books are the most worthless trash, more discouraging to a book lover than any accumulations he has ever seen in this land. However, there is much to attract the student, bibliophile, and anyone interested in the history of printing and what I may call \u201ccommercial\u201d binding.\nAn Aldine is an Aldine, whether it be a first edition or not, and a Stephanus or Froben or Gryphus may be equally illustrative of the work of those houses. It is satisfying to own a book printed in Italics or in his famous Greek type, under the eye of the first Aldus himself, by his son at Rome, or by old Luca Antonino, the founder of the Giunta family. It is a pleasure to get a few fifteenth-century works, even if they are not famous or remarkable. The clear-cut type, the firm, heavy paper, the ink, black as when the sheets were pulled from the press, of these fifteenth-century books make one heartily weary of pulp papers and inks that fade with the very printing.\n\nOf the old books, strangely enough, works on canon law and the decretals seem to be the most prevalent.\nnumerous.  Next  come  editions  of  the  classics  and \nhosts  of  sixteenth-century  tractates  of  all  shapes \nand  sizes.  Greek  books  are  scarce,  but  Latin  ones \nare  too  numerous  to  excite  attention.  Italian \nliterature  naturally  holds  the  first  place,  with  Cantu \nin  a  succession  of  voluminous  editions  most  in  evi\u00ac \ndence.  French  and  Spanish  books  come  next,  while \nEnglish  and  German  ones  are  almost  unknown  ex\u00ac \ncept  at  one  or  two  shops  which  make  a  specialty  of \nthem. \nOf  the  early  and  famous  printers,  the  Germans \nare  but  slightly  represented,  and  the  same  thing  is \ntrue  of  the  Dutch  and  English  presses.  French  and \nSwiss  publishers  divide  the  field  with  those  of  Italy. \nOne  exception  should  be  made  in  favor  of  the  Plantin \nPress,  of  Antwerp,  examples  of  whose  work  are \neasily  secured.  The  extraordinary  number  of  the \nprinting  presses  of  Northern  Italy,  especially  at \nAppreciating Venice and Florence's work before the authors' detrimental impact and the flood of books, Rome is best understood through their remaining pieces still present in its stalls and shops. Elzevirs scarcely reached Rome in large quantities, or perhaps they have all been purchased and rarely appear in shops.\n\nRegarding prices, they fluctuate significantly based on the shop, dealer's temperament, the purchaser's linguistic ability, and indications of their financial means, such as dress, equipage, or mannerisms. Fixed prices exist in only one or two shops. Italian language proficiency and the ability to make even poor jokes can significantly reduce prices.\nFifteenth-century books, regardless of their type, typically cost between twenty-five and fifty francs. Finely bound or well-preserved books could cost up to one hundred francs or more. For later books, value depends on the dealer's knowledge and the purchaser's persistence. Prices may range from a few coppers to double the value. Bargaining is necessary unless one is Croesus or a fool. In Rome, one can enjoy parchment bindings of various kinds. Few other leathers were used extensively. Most work is plain, featuring either half or full parchment bindings with lettering.\nBooks in stalls are inscribed in ink. Occasionally, a fine specimen of tooling will turn up, which does not bear the arms of some pope or cardinal, and can be obtained cheaply. Books bound for popes, with the tiara, keys, and arms of the pontiff in gilding on the sides sell at round prices. However, cardinals have been so much more common that their armorial bearings and cardinal hats are not highly rated, unless the work is inlaid in morocco. There are certain characteristics which very clearly distinguish the bindings of different epochs, and these soon become so familiar to the book-hunter that he passes over late works without inspecting them carefully, unless the paper betrays an old book in a later binding.\n\nNot infrequently, you may come across books in these stalls in which the name of the author or editor is inscribed.\nThe publisher and place of printing have been blotted or cut out in some instances. Occasionally, the attempt to conceal these names has been unsuccessful, and the poorer ink used to obliterate them has faded, leaving the printer's ink still visible. These names, ruthlessly concealed, were those of heretics, generally Swiss or German. No one dared to expose these books for sale or to own them without this precaution, and probably required the permission of the ecclesiastical authorities. I have books in which the names of Erasmus, Beatus Rhenanus, and publisher Froben have been treated in this manner, and I have seen literally hundreds of others. In most cases, the objectionable person was merely an editor or publisher. When he supplied the subject-matter as well, his books were more summarily dealt with, as he would have been if he could have been caught.\nRome is not a wholly barren and despoiled field for the collector who loves to gather the books he puts on his shelves. The more modest and humbler lover of old volumes will find the old city a rich and profitable source of pleasure.\n\nThe above was written in 1900. The change twenty-five years later is most marked. The Great War ruthlessly swept away most of the small bookshops in Rome. The after-effects of the war were hard on small dealers everywhere, but book-dealers in particular, unless they had large capital, have simply gone to the wall in the Italian cities. Otherwise, the description still fits, and the book-hunting traveler.\nA librarian who is not a lover of books is a sorry specimen of his kind. But the term bibliophile has gathered certain associations that have obscured its real meaning. In the popular mind, it is now generally applied only to those persons whose love for books has taken the form of a mania for works of a certain rarity or of a limited and strictly fictitious value. If the words collector and bibliophile are to be considered interchangeable; if the bibliophile is to be thought of only as the man in whose eyes an uncut first edition in the original blue paper wrappers is worth ten times as much as the same book in regular edition.\nBut if a bibliophile refers to one who truly loves books, in whose eyes a poorly made book, a poorly bound book, and a poorly illustrated book are alike an abomination, one who loves a book not only for its form, but for its content, one who knows the history and technique of the art of printing, one whose books are his friends and companions, his inspiration and his solace, then by all means, librarians, as well as other people of wholesome and well-balanced character, should guard themselves from bibliomania as from an insidious and dangerous disease.\n\nFrom a meeting of the Long Island Library Club, February 21, 1902.\n\nThe Librarian, a Bibliophile.\nA bibliophile is a librarian who values books because they contain the rich heritage of past ages, providing insight into interpreting daily experiences with human nature. While my response could end here, there are considerations compelling further discussion. Many American librarians lack the necessary equipment for historical and artistic aspects of their profession. Reasons for this exist, but I believe, disregarding them, this is a desirable goal to strive for.\nThe reasons that it is clear to anyone whose observation has been extended that here we have paid little attention to what I am disposed to call the higher and finer duties of our profession. There are too few of us who feel competent to attack problems involving a minute knowledge not only of the history of book-making, but even of such allied subjects as the political and economic history of Europe in the Renaissance period. There are not many among our number who could lend intelligent aid, say, to a historian seeking information on the Spanish colonies in the West Indies, from what few original sources our libraries might have. How many of us feel ourselves reasonably well fitted to draw up a scheme for the careful preservation and at the same time the ready consultation of manuscripts deposited in our libraries.\nIf we came across letters of General Washington, manuscript diaries of President Madison, account books of General Scott, or a set of letters describing life in Alaska in 1899, or a collection of rare and beautiful Italian books of the fifteenth century, how many of us would feel competent to prepare them for publication and ensure their proper preservation? Supposing a collection of rare and beautiful Italian books of the fifteenth century was given to the library, is there someone on hand able to collate them, catalog them, and publish a description of them that would be a lamp to the feet of scholars worldwide? Do we have many librarians equipped to distinguish between a true and a counterfeit Aldine, describe the earmarks of \"contemporary binding,\" or tell with reasonable accuracy the date of a book?\nCan our librarians distinguish between good and poor paper, different grades of morocco and other leathers, and correctly sew books while berating binders for not following directions? Do we all know the difference between good printing and bad, appreciate proper registration, clear and beautiful type, and serviceable bindings over heavy and ugly type poorly set with muddy ink and imitation chamois skin bindings? Lastly, are there many of us who intimately know the history of finer books?\nThose who appreciate more expensive forms of book making, who love the books in whose creation has gone the devoted skill of artist and printer and binder? We have in the ranks of librarianship not a few persons competent to do many of these things, and some able to do all of them \u2013 and vastly more. But I fear that we cannot go on to say that the majority of librarians have such qualifications. We are all aware that the great development in library work in America has been along two lines: first, the betterment and growth of the free public library, and second, an increase in the material ease of handling books and making them quickly accessible to the reader. The number and size of our free libraries, the enormous quantity of books they house, demand this ease and accessibility.\nOf the books circulated from them, the magnificent and well-planned buildings recently erected, the mechanical devices for protection against fire and compact housing of books, the card catalog system, our convenient, if not altogether logical, systems of classification, together with a host of accessory aids to the promotion of reading and the circulation of books; these form at once the chief pride of our American librarians and their chief contribution to the science of librarianship. We have passed through a period of training in the last quarter century. Our energies have been given to the material side of our work, and we have no cause to be ashamed of our results. But we may well pause for an instant to inquire seriously whether we have done all that we might have done, and whether new conditions are not facing us at the present moment.\nThose of us who are familiar with some of Europe's great libraries are aware that they are conducted on an altogether different basis from most of our own. We are disposed to ridicule the library in which the card catalog is unknown or one in which a student must wait forty-eight hours after leaving a request for books before obtaining them. But true librarianship does not consist in standard sizes or pneumatic tubes. We have not been wrong in thinking that our collections must be made available by every device in our power; but we have not always had strong collections. When we contrast our best libraries with those of Europe, we are painfully aware of the fact that European institutions have been in the field for some hundreds of years.\nWith us, the emphasis on expanding circulating libraries has come to an end. We will circulate more books, not fewer. We will have more branches and delivery stations, not fewer. We will not cease our missionary activities, but will likely increase them in ways unimagined at present. The librarian, a bibliophile (The Librarian A Bibliophile 43)\n\nNow, we can safely say that the period of emphasizing the expansion of circulating libraries has ended with us. We will not circulate fewer books, but more; we will not have fewer branches and delivery stations, but more; we will not cease from our missionary activities, but will undoubtedly increase them.\nThe strongest state, whose Free Library Commission sends out reports of the work of its traveling libraries that cannot be read without emotion, has just erected for its State Historical Society a magnificent building to shelter a collection of manuscripts and books that illuminate the early history of the entire northwest. In our own city, soon to be provided with unexcelled facilities for the circulation of books through free libraries, there are growing great collections of incunabula, of Americana, of works on architecture, not to mention a host of others. We need only glance at a few of the great libraries of the country, from Boston to Washington and from New York to Chicago, to see that the day of specialization, of more rounded collections, has come.\nA great era for renowned reference libraries has emerged. We have reached a stage where libraries are receiving endowments, and trustees have a distinct purpose to advance research. American collectors of wealth have been purchasing manuscripts, incunabula, and rare books in Europe over the past two decades. In the natural course of events, the larger part of these collections will eventually transfer from private hands to library shelves. Witness the collections of Mr. Ayer and Mr. Brown in the field of Americana as recent examples, not to mention a score of others. Within easy reach of a student in New York City, it is now possible to find a significant amount of primary material for the study of both Greek and other subjects.\nLibraries and papyri, while a great amount of such material is expected in the future. Papyri are already finding their way to America in large quantities, due to American assistance in financing recent explorations in Egypt. If it is once granted that we have reached this new stage in library progress, I think it will scarcely be disputed that the bibliographic, scholarly, historical side of their work must in the future engage the careful attention of a far greater number of librarians than it has with us in the past. In libraries created for special purposes or containing large collections on special topics, works illustrating the history of those subjects must be gathered in large quantities. These cannot properly be handled in any other spirit than that of the true bibliophile.\nA bibliophile, gifted with knowledge and trained in the arts of bibliography, is the only one capable of cataloging and classifying rare books, manuscripts, and illustrative material based on their rarity, peculiar circumstances of manufacture, or form of preservation. Inducements for librarians to qualify themselves properly for handling such items are likely to increase in the future. It would be sad if the library world became divided into camps serving limited and mass publics, failing to recognize their mutual benefits.\nObligations and their mutual dependence would disappear, making the work of the profession much pleasanter and more profitable. We must recognize and appreciate the missionary effort of the public library. All of us are required to do so. May we not find in the spirit of the bibliophile one of the bonds that will hold firmly together the members of our calling, which is rapidly differentiating to such a degree that we are obliged to flock together in a yearly increasing number of sections? May we not improperly or confidently ask of our brethren in the public library, the branch library, and the delivery station, that they love the beautiful in books, care for fine samples of early printing, and strive to educate their immediate constituents to some degree.\n\nThe Librarian A Bibliophile.\nAppreciation of these things, and may we not bid the cataloger or classifier a moment from his problems of transliteration from the Slavic or proper subordination of a special class under the general heading? Turn for a while from his labor and consider the beauty of the fine old Baskerville he has just put down. May we not confidently urge that the historical side of bibliography and the deliberate formation of collections which shall show the history of at least one subject be encouraged in every library of any size?\n\nThere are some very practical applications to be made of these theoretical views. The busy desk attendant or children's librarian may think that these remarks are not meant for her. I think otherwise. It is in just these cases that they do apply. I do not mean that a long line of waiting applicants should hinder this work, but rather that the importance of accurate cataloging and collection development should not be overlooked in the midst of daily tasks.\nA fine enthusiasm for old books, for fine books, for beautiful books, will be one stimulus which can generally be indulged in with ease and safety. Moreover, I firmly believe that only those who have tried it know what an interest a bibliographic exhibit may arouse among the frequenters of a small branch library. Such exhibitions are not impossible, yet they require some little knowledge on the part of the attendants who explain them, even when labeled in the most effective fashion. Librarians who have charge of small collections.\nAny limited fund individuals have particular need of the training and enthusiasm of a bibliophile. They are overly prone to believe they cannot afford fine editions and good bindings. To anyone who knows the possibilities of the auction and second-hand market in this city, such beliefs are groundless. A succession of reasonable bids placed with reliable auctioneers will yield results that will astonish those who have bought only through agents. Furthermore, no one abuses a fine book, while almost anyone is careless with a paper-covered and poorly printed one. A librarian of a small library who investigates second-hand stores and persistently studies auction catalogs can soon acquire book treasures.\nI am a firm believer in making more of fine specimens of the printer's art or other treasures in our libraries. The effect of such things, when exhibited with suitable explanatory labels, can be great. I remember the impact on my imagination as a boy from a few huddled and carelessly labeled old books and manuscripts in a wretched light in the public library. Had they been shown in an attractive manner and with full, clear, and elementary notes, I have no doubt they would have had a vastly greater influence. It is hardly possible to lay too much stress on effective explanation in such matters. If our heads of libraries endeavor to show what they have of beautiful, rare, and costly volumes and bindings, and will make efforts to display them attractively, it will surely benefit the public.\nAmong the many specialist gatherings held in connection with the Chicago Exposition in 1893 was an International Congress of Librarians. The account of its sessions appeared in the Report of the Commissioner of Education three years later. The American Library Association has just held another similar international congress for the St. Louis Fair. It is a fitting time, in view of this event, to set forth the events which have made the ten years that have elapsed since the World's Fair.\nAt Chicago, a memorable decade in the history of American libraries. It was a saying of President Garfield's that American education runs too much to bricks and mortar. A biting sting of truth lies in these words, a truth which applies all too well to the library world, in common with that of education. It is perhaps a national failing to exalt the visible and tangible, and to ignore the subtle and unseen work of culture and study. The average man will turn to the new buildings which have been reared in this decade for his criterion of progress in library affairs. They form, it must be said, a notable addition to the list of public buildings of merit in the country. Perhaps it is not too much to say that the modern library is becoming a temple of learning and culture, a place where the mind can expand and grow. (Popular Science Monthly, December, 1904)\n\nLibrary Progress in America\nThe American library is a new architectural type, shaped by unique conditions and innovations in library planning. The college gymnasium and large library have become distinctly American forms of architecture, alongside the skyscraper and grain elevator. Librarian requirements for natural light, compact storage, accessibility, fire protection, and damp prevention, coupled with the need for ample reader space, administration areas, and service desks, have led to some intriguing and beautiful buildings. More and more architects are responding to these demands.\nWe have studied the needs of libraries, and mistakes once made and realized are seldom repeated. The small library has provided numerous opportunities for the designer in the past decade. aside from the benefactions of Mr. Carnegie, which are in some respects the most striking event in library progress in America in the past ten years, literally scores of small buildings have been erected by private individuals and by towns. These are coming to form an architectural type fully as distinct as the large buildings. As a rule, of late years these smaller library buildings have taken the shape of a rectangular structure with a central hall, two large front rooms, a delivery desk across the hall, and shelves in \"stacks\" in the rear on the main floor. A second story usually provides space for additional study and administration rooms.\nA very large number of memorial libraries of this type have been erected, particularly in New England. Numerous local and individual variations occur, but a building designed to shelve some ten thousand books so as to be easily reached by any visitor and to afford one attendant a fair view of the main floor has become the accepted type of the small library.\n\nIn 1893, there were but three examples of modern library buildings of a size much above the ordinary to be seen in America. These were the Boston Public Library, the Library of Cornell University, and the Newberry Library of Chicago. All these are dignified and imposing structures, while the Boston edifice is distinctly one of the foremost public buildings of the country. No one of these buildings has ever satisfied librarians as an ideal, despite their grandeur.\nIn the past decade, approximately a dozen notable library structures have been built in America. These include the Library of Congress, Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, Public Libraries of Chicago, Milwaukee, Providence, Newark, and the District of Columbia, as well as the libraries of Columbia, Princeton, New York and Illinois Universities, and the State Historical Society of Wisconsin. Each building is a notable production; together they form a striking testimony to the extent and vitality of the library movement in this country. None of them lacks individuality. The reading room of the Library of Congress, the rotunda and impressive south facade of the Columbia Library, the Hall of Fame at the rear of the New York University Library, are characteristic.\nLibrary progress in America includes characteristic features known to all readers of illustrated papers. The others offer even more interesting and valuable returns to the student of architecture and library problems. University libraries, including that of the Wisconsin Historical Society, will repay the most careful examination. It has been a decade of building, and the end is not yet. New York Public Library's building now in process of erection is but the largest of scores planned or under way. For most of this expansion, Mr. Carnegie is responsible. There seems to be no limit to his generosity, and with very few exceptions, the money he has given to libraries has been well spent.\n\nIt is an interesting commentary on the growth of libraries that most of these buildings are already (1925) so crowded as to be nearly or wholly outgrown.\nMr. Carnegie believes in the public supporting public libraries and has stipulated that 10% of his building donations be pledged by the community for annual maintenance. His gifts have gone to cities with existing libraries and those needing organization. The results, aside from buildings, are yet to be seen, but there's little likelihood of anything but good consequences. As for library science, substantial progress has been made, with strong library cooperation.\nThe current indexing of over two hundred serials of a technical sort, in addition to a continuation of this earlier work on more popular magazines. More important than any other feature of the decade has been the adoption of uniform rules for cataloging by many libraries in the country, for the purpose of securing printed catalog cards from a central bureau. Since the middle of the nineteenth century, library progress in America has been advocated by library idealists to replace individual libraries' reproduction of manuscript catalog entries for current printed books with printed catalog cards that could be purchased either with or at the same time as the book.\nThe Library Association attempted to emancipate the library profession from ancient scribal bondage through its publishing board. A commercial organization later took over the work but abandoned it as financially unprofitable. The Library of Congress was the first to take effective action. Through a series of compromises, the country's libraries, acting through their association, adopted a new cataloging rule set. The Library of Congress then announced it was ready to sell printed catalog cards for copyright books, other accessions, and re-cataloged books at the regular price of government publications - cost plus ten percent.\nThe result has been disappointing to some enthusiasts who expected their catalogs to make themselves through the use of printed card indexes. However, while cataloging labor has not been eliminated, the result is a far finer, fuller, and more perfect card index than most libraries could afford to make, and at a much lower cost than manuscript cards. There is every reason to look forward to an extension of this work in supplying printed cards to scholars, bibliographers, and libraries, as well as an international exchange or purchase of printed catalog cards. The beginnings of such a move.\nThe bibliographical labors of the Institut International of Brussels and the Concilium Bibliographicum of Zurich reveal the presence of numerous problems. The International Catalogue of Scientific Literature, for which the Royal Society of London is sponsor, is another great step toward international cooperative cataloging.\n\nBibliography has received great impetus in America in the past decade. One sign of this is the establishment of an organization. Americans, said Agassiz, when they have anything to do, must have a president, vice-presidents, secretary, treasurer, and a constitution. The genial Swiss was right.\n\nLibrary progress in America\n\nThe Bibliographical Society of Chicago is about to become the American Bibliographical Society. Meanwhile, private and corporate activity has produced some noteworthy bibliographies, including The American Library Association\u2019s Guide to the Literature.\nThe truth of American History, Mr. Evans's American Bibliography, the United States Catalogue of Books, and the American Catalogue are remarkable bibliographies. The list could be extended indefinitely. Bibliographies, whether in the form of scholarly treatises such as the catalog of Cornell University's Dante collection or the latest reading list for children, have become a distinct feature of library progress in America.\n\nThere has been no small amount of legislation affecting libraries in the period we are considering. This has taken, as a rule, two directions: first, laws creating or amending a general act providing for the establishment of libraries, and second, laws establishing library commissions in the several states. The latter feature is the most prominent in the history of the relation of the state to libraries.\n1893 Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Connecticut were the only states with library boards. Now, twenty states have established them through statute. Generally, these commissions are composed of certain state officials ex officio (usually the librarian of the state library and the state superintendent of public instruction) and certain public-spirited citizens who serve without pay. They have a modest sum to be expended in employing inspectors and organizers. In general, their work has been limited to helpful suggestion to the libraries of their states, and to the administration of a system of traveling libraries, another new development of the decade. In certain states, the commission is empowered to render some small financial support from state funds to public libraries. The Wisconsin commission has furnished the model which has generally been followed in the United States.\nThe Massachusetts commission has been the model for the eastern states. Western commissions have had more legal authority and larger sums to expend, employing more officers than those in the east. The future will likely see an extension of this benevolent state supervision and help. It must be confessed that no other influence has been as potent in the improvement of the condition and administration of smaller, more backward libraries as these commissions. They have fully justified their right to exist. They have also furthered to a remarkable extent the creation of new libraries in communities not previously possessing them. \"Traveling libraries,\" small collections of some fifty books, have been called into being and managed largely through the commissions. These small collections\nLibrary progress in America sees sets of books sent to rural communities and large cities where desired, kept for a few weeks, and exchanged for another set. These have been highly commended by those interested in bringing books to people with few or none. This leads us to consider the missionary spirit in library work. It is remarked in passing that this seems a peculiarly American development, and in general, a growing consciousness of the high and useful service in the life of the municipality has been a conspicuous feature of the public library movement. The librarian who views himself as a missionary of the book has been much in evidence lately, and on the whole, has been both efficient and sane. The idea that he is a missionary.\nThe custodian of books barely resembles a librarian's concept of his role. He is now more of a guide and assistant for the use of books. \"The best that can be said for any book in this library,\" an enthusiastic leader in this field remarked, \"is that it is entirely worn out, and we must buy two new copies of it.\" This was in response to the faint protest of an elder librarian that children should not be allowed in libraries because they wore out the books by reading them excessively. This zeal for helping others to books, to the right books, has led to many reforms in the internal arrangement of library buildings and in the administration's relations to the public. As a rule, the newer libraries allow a great amount of freedom.\nDirect access to the shelves is available to all library users. Many recent buildings have been designed for this purpose, and older buildings have been remodeled to allow it. This has brought about numerous benefits, although there has been a minor loss of books. The increased use of libraries due to easier personal contact with books far outweighs this loss. Most future libraries will likely be planned to permit direct access to open shelves for a significant portion of their collections. However, there is a point at which this privilege becomes unnecessary for both the public and the library, and this fact is now widely acknowledged. Open shelves are just one manifestation of the misconception that easier access equates to greater library effectiveness.\nThe missionary spirit has led to the creation of special rooms for children in charge of specially trained assistants in libraries. This desire to bring books and people together has resulted in the \"children's room,\" a blessing to libraries as it draws younger children away from reading rooms and delivery counters, and perhaps instills the reading habit in many. The children's room, with its cheerful and prettily decorated walls, low tables and chairs, and tactful, kind, experienced director, has proven beneficial to countless children whose homes lack such amenities. This particular form of library work is still too young to judge its ultimate results.\n\nAnother form of the missionary spirit has\n\n(Assuming the second part of the text is incomplete and not relevant to the original topic, I will not output it to maintain faithfulness to the original content.)\nA closer relation and more effective cooperation between libraries and schools is taken. The desire for an organization to provide opportunity for the public exploitation of this type of work led to the creation of the Library Section of the National Educational Association in 1896. Not only schools, but women\u2019s clubs and social settlements, and in general, all organizations whose members use books in their work, have been brought into friendly relations with progressive libraries. In short, we may safely affirm that public libraries are studying the needs of their communities as never before, and that the vague notion of aiding the \u201cpublic\u201d is being replaced by concrete and tangible assistance to organizations and individuals.\n\nThe libraries in large cities have shown a most decided desire to assist their clients in securing:\nLIBRARY PROGRESS IN AMERICA\n\nThe branch library and the delivery station have experienced almost marvelous development in the past decade. There is hardly a public circulating library of prominence in the country which does not maintain from half a dozen to half a hundred reading-rooms with small collections of reference books, as well as numerous stations for delivery of books from the central library. The largest number of these branch libraries will ultimately be found in New York, where Mr. Carnegie's gifts provide for eighty of these smaller centers in the greater city. Branch libraries have not infrequently been established at the request of large manufacturers or other employers of labor near their places of business, and in some cases the running expenses have been paid by them.\n\nAmong librarians also, the spirit of mutual help has been manifested in various ways. The New York Public Library, for instance, has been aided by the Carnegie Institution in the purchase of books, and in return has made its collections available to the Carnegie libraries in the city. The Boston Public Library has been similarly aided by the Carnegie Institution, and has in turn made its collections available to the Carnegie libraries in Massachusetts. The Chicago Public Library has received aid from the Carnegie Institution in the purchase of books, and has in turn made its collections available to the Carnegie libraries in Illinois. In this way, the various public libraries of the country have been brought into closer relationship with each other, and have been enabled to extend their usefulness to a much greater degree than would have been possible without such cooperation.\nThe library movement's distinguishing feature of growth has significantly increased in this country. Library clubs, state associations, interstate conferences, and the American Library Association have all experienced increased membership and a minimum threefold increase in number. Two new schools for training librarians have been established in the past decade, and older schools have strengthened their curricula and raised admission standards. A new journal dedicated to public libraries has emerged. Any summary of this decade would be incomplete without mentioning the great additions to American libraries in the form of special collections or endowments. Such gifts as the John Carter Brown Library of Brown University.\nThe Riant collection at Harvard, Yale's Semitic manuscripts, the Dante collection presented to Cornell by Willard Fiske, the Avery Architectural Library at Columbia, the Morgan collection of Vergils and the Garrett collection of Arabic manuscripts at Princeton, and the Ford and other collections of the New York Public Library are prominent examples of collectors' generosity in recent library history. The man of wealth can easily give money for a building, but the scholarly collector who turns over to a library for keeping and use the result of his years-long efforts gives perhaps even more munificently. Libraries in this country are yearly receiving such donations in ever increasing numbers. It would be a rare and happy fate if the libraries of America could remind themselves of no other.\nThree pioneers of library progress in America have sadly passed away in the past decade. Historians and librarians alike will acknowledge the significant loss of William F. Poole, Justin Winsor, and C. A. Cutter. Dr. Poole is remembered for his contributions to American history and bibliography. Mr. Winsor's achievements as a cartographer, historian, and librarian are well-known. Mr. Cutter, who passed away last summer, was celebrated by librarians for his long series of valuable contributions to the problems of classification.\nIt is noted that such men, with their dedication and cataloging abilities, endeared themselves to all in the field of American librarianship. The memory of these individuals should serve as a great incentive to future workers in their chosen profession. It would be hasty to predict the directions of library growth in the next ten years. However, some tendencies can be inferred from the recent past. It is almost certain that the impetus given to public libraries by Mr. Carnegie will result in steady growth and increased efficiency in this field. Equally certain, I believe, is that more efficient and widely extended state inspection and advice to libraries are likely in the near future. Library legislation is tending to become more uniform in the several states.\nThe greatest internal improvements in America will likely be the growth of a scholarly spirit among librarians and an increased emphasis on bibliographical work. Cooperation in library administration technicalities and the subsequent cost reduction may also be expected. The educational value of libraries in the community will become greater due to librarians' conscious efforts to increase efficiency and public recognition of these efforts.\n\nThe enabling acts allowing public libraries to be supported by taxation may be exchanged for mandatory acts compelling their establishment, similar to public schools.\n\nLibrary Progress in America\nIt is my desire to set forth in this paper a practical problem of reference work that confronts every reference librarian and his chief in planning the work of a university or research library. We exist for readers. How much help can we give them without going beyond the limits of common sense and our appropriations, without becoming private secretaries or private tutors?\n\nHow much help do readers need? Our university libraries (and our public libraries, too, for that matter) discover the utmost variety in the preparedness of readers to use the facilities the libraries offer. The freshman\u2014and occasionally the senior\u2014who knows nothing of how to use a library, who requests something to help \u201cget up Professor X\u2019s exam,\u201d who \u201chas a theme to write on the sunrise and wants a book on it,\u201d rubs elbows with the professor.\nWho comes in to inquire whether Herr Dr. Syntax of Tubingen ever published a treatise on the Homeric Digamma, or cannot find it out for him?\n\n1. Read at Minnetonka Lake Conference, American Library Association, College and Reference Section, June 23, 1908. (Library Journal, July, 1908.)\n\nHelp to be given to readers:\nWhat was the amount of the cotton crop in Oklahoma last fall, \"it isn't anything I've been able to lay hands on.\"\n\nTo illustrate the extremes of ability to use a library, let me relate two experiences of my own. I well remember my first encounter with a card catalog. It was at the University of Michigan, and too long ago for me to count the years with comfort, and too few with pride. I had haunted the Detroit Public Library for years and knew every nook and corner of it \u2014 but I had never seen, much less used, its card catalog.\nI went to the university library in the evening to pass some hours. I wanted a book \u2013 any book \u2013 and was coldly referred to a case of double-tray drawers where little cards were arranged \u2013 by authors. I remember this day turning those cards. Being a methodical soul, even then, I had begun with A. Aristotle was the first author I encountered. Do you wonder that I turned away from the oak case in which the first card written west of Cambridge was said to be, and went out of that library utterly discouraged? There were no open shelves then, save for a few dictionaries, and no reference librarian. The student assistant on duty that night saw in me only a freshman who wanted to idle away time. I submit there was room for assistance in this case. The bookworm in me couldn't be satisfied.\nReaders are assisted by having access to a large number of books, even those that have been downed by Aristotle and others. I recall many instances where, after becoming familiar with a catalog, I would randomly select author cards to find something to read when I was tired or had some spare time. A selection of good literature on open shelves is beneficial to students during formative periods, and no university or college library can afford to do without it. The more books a student can see and handle, the better. They are worth more than catalogs, bibliographies, and even the reference librarian.\n\nA few days ago, I observed a famous scholar at work in the Library of Congress. He had a point of bibliography to settle and scanned our card catalog, making rapid notes of call numbers. He took down volume after volume of the British Museum Catalog, making copious notes.\nHe spent two hours gathering books, opening volumes, rejecting some, keeping others, renewing his search, making notes, and leaving quietly. He used over a hundred books and consulted half a thousand entries, needing no assistance except once when a book wasn't produced due to an error - on our part, I regret to say. Our bibliographic tools worked efficiently under his skilled hands. It was inspiring to see his rapidity, ease, and accuracy as he went from step to step in his investigations, jotting down his final note and leaving. The task was completed. The two cases were not absolutely analogous, for\nI was seeking a book to read for recreation - a scholar was in search of a definite title, but I would have been equally at a loss, I am sure, in trying to find a book on any given subject. Between those persons, then, who are practically helpless in the face of ordinary library machinery, and those to whom our devices for registering books are useful and easily handled tools, lies the whole world of readers in the kind of libraries with which this section is concerned.\n\nIs the ability to use books and to use libraries a consciously sought-after end in our universities and colleges? At present, if a student acquires much facility in these lines, it is safe to say that this ability is a by-product of other work, rather than the result of intentional study or instruction. It is well known that in the smaller colleges, there is a lack of systematic instruction in library use.\nA great deal of efficient work is being done in teaching students to use the library. In larger libraries where the need for training is greatest, instruction is often wanting. We ought to be able to assume that freshmen have learned in their preparatory school days how to consult a card catalog, make out an intelligent call for books, and use libraries. This is but little in the way of equipment for serious study in a university or research library. However, the lack of such equipment on the part of students and readers in a public research library confines much of the work of assistance to most elementary first aid to the injured. I fear our experience is that the average freshman needs help in doing almost any one of the simple acts just mentioned.\nThis being the case, is it not possible in our larger colleges and universities to impart in some formal manner this elementary training, and go beyond to the realms of cooperative indices, card indices, great library catalogs, and so on? I see very little that leads me to think this will soon come about. We have heard much talk of \"professors of books,\" of \"instruction in bibliography,\" and so forth, for many years. But I fear that the art of using large collections of books must still be learned by the hard way of experience, rather than be taught in classes. There seems no good reason why it should not be taught formally, nor why the work should not be thorough and hard enough to count toward a degree. At Princeton, where the new \u201cpreceptorial system\u201d has been heralded as furnishing the long-awaited help to readers.\nI. The one preceptor I knew trained men in using bibliographies and catalogs. Most, however, ensured students read diligently but failed to teach them the use of indices, catalogs, and bibliographies.\n\nII. If we encounter this lack of library training, how far can we go in supplying this need amidst our routine work? It's essential to get students and readers in the habit of using ordinary helps. First, we must ask what they do when puzzled.\nWe all have encountered the most elusive object of inquiry - what a reader truly wants to know. The chief art of a desk assistant or a reference librarian is, as we all know, the knack of divining by long experience what is actually wanted by inquirers. Few readers ask directly for what they want, even when they have a clear idea of their needs - which is seldom the case. The classic illustration is the tale, originating at the Redwood Library in Newport, I believe, of the girl who spent half a morning looking at all the library's books on Greek mythology and religion. Skillful questioning at last brought out the fact that she really wanted to know the exact measure of the waist of the Venus of Milo.\nMost readers ask questions at the loan desk despite the availability of elaborate machinery for assistance elsewhere. Readers persist in asking for help from people they know, rather than walk twenty-five feet and ask a question of someone behind an unfamiliar desk, which in many cases bears a strange sign. We all do it. Instead of asking bothersome questions to the gate-keeper or policeman in a railroad station, we demand and expect an answer from them rather than walk to the conspicuously labeled \"Bureau of Information\".\nIn order to ensure that the library assists readers effectively, the reference librarian must be in close touch and on cordial terms with loan desk assistants. The reference librarian should properly answer questions and direct inquirers to the right person. Although I won't delve into whether the reference librarian should control assignments and loan desk work, it would benefit from such control if they do. Since assistants will receive most inquiries, it's crucial that the person ultimately responsible is well-connected to them.\nAssistants who provide help should understand how questions are answered and the amount of aid attempted at the desk. It's crucial that desk attendants don't try to do too much themselves. They should hand over inquiries involving much time to reference librarians, and direct inquirers to the catalog and similar helps. We all agree that the desk attendant should embody manly and polite virtues. However, if we emphasize the importance of politeness and unwavering zeal, we may find them overdoing their part. I have observed excessive effort to aid readers on several occasions. Desk attendants have dropped everything to look up books for readers in the catalog without considering that they were unwisely doing the reader a disservice.\nA true teacher's poise and balanced judgment, who recalls that his role is to make himself obsolete, would be an ideal desk attendant. While we may not secure this for the salaries we typically pay for such positions, we can at least ensure careful supervision and counsel from a reference librarian and circulation work chief. It is worth considering that an excess of zeal often leads desk assistants and others to spend an excessive amount of time on one reader. Maintaining eager assistants, brimming with the desire to help, within reasonable bounds requires a firm hand and good judgment without discouraging their spirit of helpfulness.\nOne must, as a rule, secure books in a large library by using a small leaflet or card explaining the methods. Libraries often provide such leaflets or cards with rules and regulations, along with descriptive matter. I was taught to use a card catalog at the Student's Christian Association in Michigan. They used to print a Students' Handbook full of sage and excellent counsel for newcomers. In the one I was given when I entered college, I found a few paragraphs headed, \"How to Help Readers - Draw a Book.\" The entire process was described, including the catalogs and what they were for, the cabalistic shelf-numbers, and where to find them on the shelves.\nI read that these numbers were always in pencil and were in the upper left-hand corner of author cards only. If you found a book under a subject heading, you must look up the corresponding author card to get the number before presenting your slip at the delivery desk; and it was carefully impressed upon me that this number must be on the slip. I don't know who wrote that lucid and detailed explanation, but I do know that I never had any trouble in getting a book at the desk after I had mastered it. If we could once get all our readers inoculated with the call-number germ, we could dispense with about half our cares in desk and reference work. I submit that such a detailed explanation of the modus operandi of securing a book would do no harm to the person who already knows the process, and would be of very great benefit.\nAssistance to those who don't know what to do. I would make the leaflet or whatever you choose to print compact but most explicit. It would be more useful than any statement as to the scope and extent of the library's collections.\n\nSuppose then that we have in some manner tidied our inquirer over the early difficulties which are the result of inexperience, and suppose that he is aware of the existence of the card catalog. There remains one final question of serious import. Can a card catalog ever be made self-interpreting? We librarians have apparently proceeded for years on the theory that it can. We have busied ourselves about \"evaluations\" and descriptive notes, about headings and author entries with the \"public\" ever in mind, and on our tongues. But I have my doubts.\nSerious doubts exist as to whether the card catalog will ever become the guide, philosopher, and friend of the ordinary library user. Its inherent difficulties are many and serious, even at the best. It is fair to say that the average card catalog will always require an interpreter as long as our readers are not trained in its use and do not know the niceties of arrangement, entry, and sub-headings. Why not recognize this fact? Why not have in our large research libraries at least one attendant whose sole or chief duty it shall be to assist the reader desiring to use the catalog? Do you ever go to the catalog yourself when there is an unusual number of readers present and someone does not ask you a question as to what this card means or how to find some title in the curious machine? I should like to see the experiment tried and to learn.\nIf we have effectively aided our students in using the library intelligently, trained our assistants to help them help themselves, and given them formal instruction in using books in libraries, there remains the curious problem of the \"reserved\" books. These books appear to students as practical textbooks, and their attitude towards them is similar to their indifference towards algebra or history that forms the basis for classroom work. Students frequently visit the library to read a given number of pages for quizzes. There is typically no enthusiasm for this task.\nrequirement: an uncomfortable incident of the college course. We may find this attitude of indifference, or even distaste, extending toward the whole library. That love for the world of books, that passion for letters which is the hallmark of the scholar they may \u2014 and they do \u2014 utterly escape. The great development of seminar and departmental libraries begets, too often, a similar attitude toward literature in maturer students. Have we not in this situation a challenge to our inventiveness and to our loyalty to our profession? Is there no way in which we may win the enthusiasm and devotion of the modern student for humane letters? We cannot afford to ignore the problem. It exists and it is growing in seriousness. My own feeling is that it is partially met by a large open-shelf collection.\nThe reference librarian's role is to circulate and provide access to materials in the reading room. He is often useful to scholars and investigators in bibliographical matters, despite it being absurd to think he can be of much service to an eminent specialist. Our experience shows that he frequently assists professors and others with reasonable and legitimate demands. He is likely to offer interesting problems for the reference librarian due to his familiarity with various resources.\nAll sorts of catalogs to run down obscurely quoted titles and perform other library feats in a fashion that frequently astonishes, even the trained investigator. This facility, however, may lead to unreasonable demands on his time considering other responsibilities. In conversation with reference librarians, I have found that the tendency of certain professors to make private secretaries out of them is a real difficulty in their work. To meet it requires experience, tact, and occasionally, the balanced judgment of the head librarian. The existence of this problem is in itself a witness to the efficiency of the work done by the reference librarian. No expert would trouble him in this way if the work were poor and weak. It is a problem resulting from the efficiency of the reference librarian's work.\nGood work and therefore welcome. Even if relations with the faculty are not causing questioning, I think we are safe in saying that there will always be the necessity for determining the amount of assistance to be given to seekers after genealogical data. How far can we afford to go in research libraries in aiding those engaged in the gentle sport of \"hunting ancestors\"? This is a practical problem of everyday work. Shall we decline to give assistance beyond putting the ordinary indices and guides before the reader, or shall we enter into his problems and try to aid him to run down the particular ancestor about whom he is uncertain? If we attempt much of this sort of help, we shall soon find ourselves doing a considerable amount of extra work. If other duties are not too heavy, well and good. But should they be, then we must consider carefully the resources we have at our disposal and the priorities of our work.\nWe should not do genealogical reference work for readers when other demands on our time are multifarious and important. Plenty of professional genealogists can do it better. University libraries receive numerous inquiries about students in the early years of the institution from their actual or supposed descendants. This type of inquiry seems legitimate to me, as it often leads the inquirer to present documents and other material of value to the university library. In general, I favor refusing to do genealogical reference work for correspondents, particularly those who have no claim on the library. We may also consider the question of making transcripts for correspondents.\nRequests to copy varying amounts of text, from a single line to several chapters, are common and burdensome. The circumstances of correspondents make some requests seem reasonable. We all do this type of work to some extent, but the challenge is drawing the line beyond which we cannot go. The inter-library loan system helps us meet this problem to a certain extent. We can suggest that the correspondent obtain the book from which transcripts are desired from their local library, but we cannot do this for extremely rare works, manuscripts, and valuable or heavy newspapers.\n\nHelp to be given to readers when the extract desired is short.\nThis brings up the question of certifying under oath the correctness of such copies. Should we undertake to make attested copies for use in lawsuits? This matter does not come up frequently in most libraries, but it is a very troublesome one when it does occur. If a document can be photographed, that process of reproduction will sometimes relieve us of the difficulty. In the case of copies, the lawyers are likely to demand that the chief librarian shall make the attest. Again, calling in a professional copyist or typist will relieve the situation. His oath is amply sufficient, and will be accepted by the court. I have endeavored to show that there are problems with certifying under oath the correctness of copies.\nAs to the amount of aid in nearly every department of reference work and loan desk service, many problems arise. Some stem from the inexperience of readers, others from the insistent demands of scholars. We can address the first issue with the use of photoduplicating machines, which have advanced to the point of rendering hand-copying unnecessary. However, they do not solve the problem of making abstracts or deciding what passages are worth photographing.\n\nHelp to be given to readers\nOur organization and the gradual process of educating users in the effective use of books are our primary means of addressing the first type of problem. The only limitation we set for our response to the second sort is that of our means. Provide us with the personnel and financing, and we will handle the growing demands of trained workers.\n\nTwo unsolved problems in library work\nOccasionally, in professional circles, one hears:\nA generally new recruit makes pronouncements that most fundamental problems of library work have been settled long ago. The only tasks now before librarians are those involved in adapting principles already well established to new conditions or expanding small activities into larger fields. Such expressions are not infrequently coupled with a conscious acknowledgement of the preeminent excellence of American library methods in contrast with those of the rest of the world. We are all more or less familiar with this kind of talk and are perhaps consciously influenced by it. It may therefore be wholesome and profitable to turn our attention to at least two fundamental problems for the successful prosecution of our calling and which are:\nProblems in Library Work\n\nAsks for a book whose author and title he knows, a reader or inquirer presents our first problem in its most simple form. Where is the book he wants? If it is produced by the ready memory of the librarian, the aid of an author or title entry in the catalog, or by whatever other means are used, the problem is solved, and ceases to be more than a matter of ordinary routine. When the work is not readily identified or not readily found, and further search of catalogs or shelves is required, the problem, although not insurmountable, becomes more complex.\nThough complicated to some extent, the process remains fairly easy if the book can be produced in good time. However, when the book cannot be produced, two questions arise: first, \"Is the book here, but for the moment concealed through some of the intricacies or deficiencies of cataloging or failure of other library machinery?\" and second, \"If not here, where is it?\"\n\nAssuming the inquirer has a correct description of his desired work, we would quickly realize the possibilities of confusion, inaccuracy, and error that lurk in even a scholarly reader's requests. There have been recent signs of an unwarranted satisfaction with our catalogs, particularly in the matter of author entries. We are all agreed on the problems.\nThat much has been accomplished in the direction of simplicity and uniformity. There have been some shaking of heads over the alarming size of card catalogs and over the loss of time in many directions consequent upon that size. I hold that there are many matters which still await final settlement, not the least of which is this very question of bulk. But we are here concerned with the problem of getting the reader his book. Now, that book is more likely than ever before to be one of those baleful things known as a \u201cpart,\u201d a member of a \u201cseries,\u201d a \u201cheft,\u201d a \u201cnumber.\u201d This, as we all know, is an age of journalistic and cooperative publishing, the small dues of a large number of interested specialists, or the munificence of some endowment making possible the publication of all sorts of treatises which would otherwise be unaffordable.\nRemain in obscurity \u2014 often, it is feared, deserved \u2014 without such adventitious aid. Leaving, then, for the present, other difficulties of our catalogs as they now stand, do they yield certain and accurate information in the case of books produced in any of the cooperative methods of modern publication in this age of societies, foundations, expeditions, clubs, international undertakings, and governmental publishing? No one dares to affirm that they do. Who has not used every known means of assistance: lists and advertising pamphlets carefully preserved, the old covers of \"continuations,\" the special catalogs of certain libraries, and bibliographies of all sorts to help him to discover in his own library books whose presence ought (it would seem) to have been revealed by them?\nWho has not struggled with the endless and vexatious task of recording receipt of continuations and serials in card catalogs? Who has not cursed, at least inwardly, the binder and binding record when searching for such works? No matter what his library experience or the size of his library, every one of us has been shamefully discovered to have a book or a \"part\" that we had confidently asserted was not in the library at a later date. Should we place all the blame for this sort of thing on the much-abused catalogers and makers of cataloging rules? By no means. It is the business of every one of us who work in libraries to join heartily in the effort to make the record, the key to our collections, as useful, as complete, and as adequate as we can. We may fairly say to the specialists who catalog: \"Join us in this task.\"\nProblems in Library Work\n\nWe should meet those who create catalogs halfway; they must, of course, consider the needs of catalog users, and every device that promotes plainness, clarity, speed, and convenience in consultation should be employed. However, the blame, if any, lies ultimately with those who do not make the difficulties they face clear.\n\nRegarding our records of series and various groups, they are either inadequate, too clumsy, or made too slowly. When each entry has a separate card, they occupy too much space and consume too much time (though numerous guides would help alleviate this issue); when several entries are made on a single card, they are difficult to read; and when books are published at irregular intervals and are subsequently misplaced or lost.\nWe bind books into one volume and are cited and inquired for by that volume's title rather than numbers or names in the set. Or when they exhibit any other peculiarities of Teutonic publishing, we are distracted, and the inquirer begins to think scornfully of trained librarians. Experimentation, criticism, comparison may help us make our card catalogs instruments of precision. Even instruments of precision may be worked faultily by careless or indifferent guardians.\n\nMeanwhile, while we have been reflecting on just one aspect of complex catalogs, where is that book? We can't find it; our catalogs, shelf-lists, order-lists, serial records, book catalogs, and bibliographies don't show it here. Now, while we may be able to suggest a substitute.\nProblems in Library Work\n\nThe inquirer's need for a specific book is not always solved. He wants to borrow it or go to it. But where is it to be found in the United States of America? We have often had to respond, \"I don't know!\" We have answered, \"It may be in Harvard, or the Lenox, or the John Carter Brown Library.\" We have said, \"There is a special collection on that subject at Cornell or the Boston Public Library. Write to the librarian inquiring for it there.\" Less frequently, we have been able to say, \"A copy is in the Boston Athenaeum or the Peabody Library, or the Avery Architectural Library of Columbia, or in Mr. Church's library.\"\nProblems in Library Work\n\nIs \"a copy was sold in the Brinley or the Hurst sale\" or \"there is a copy in the British Museum, or the Library of the Faculty of Advocates at Edinburgh\"? With what quiet scorn has our reader looked at us when we have proudly told him that there is a copy in the British Museum or the Library of the Faculty of Advocates at Edinburgh?\n\nIs this state of affairs a challenge to our inventiveness, our power of cooperation, our collective responsibility? Since the day of great catalogs in book form appears to be definitely past, what substitute have we for their precise and ready information? The lists of special collections and the union lists of serials are a help, but they are all too limited in scope. We need\u2014they need\u2014a means of locating a book not in the library in which they are working.\nThe basis for such a list already exists in the printed catalog cards of various libraries, fully described in the November (1911) Library Journal. The titles \u2014 now approximately 500,003 \u2014 of the Library of Congress cards form an unrivaled nucleus for a union list of works in the large libraries and the special collections of this country. Perhaps we have not fully realized what it means to have a basis of nearly half a million titles which will soon automatically extend itself to as many more. Consider for a moment the probable number of works in other American libraries not represented in the Library of Congress cards. Will it be much more than half a million titles when the re-cataloging is completed, a consummation actually in sight? Perhaps. Who can say? But even if it should be that or double that number, there is no serious physical obstacle in the way.\nThe proposition for a union catalog is not a mere dream. In a decade, every book in the District of Columbia not in the Library of Congress should be represented by a card printed by that library or by an entry in a book catalog. Progress has already been made. Titles from the Public Library, the Department of Agriculture, the Geological Survey, the Bureau of Education, and the Army War College have been printed for some years. During the past year, they have been printed for the Bureau of Fisheries, the Bureau of Labor, and the Engineer School. These cards are now filed in three catalogs in the Library of Congress. There are just two large government agencies yet to be included.\nLibraries not likely to be covered by printed cards within ten years \u2014 the Surgeon General\u2019s Library and the Documents Office Library. For both of these, adequate catalogs and check-lists exist in book form, and I should not like to risk my reputation on any prophecy that even these libraries would not eventually be found in line with printed cards \u2014 at least for books not in the Library of Congress collections.\n\nThe other libraries now printing cards \u2014 John Crerar, Chicago University, New York Public, Boston Public, Harvard University, Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh \u2014 print (or will print) mainly for books not represented by cards in the Library of Congress set. What escapes the net thus spread at present comprise (1) books in these libraries not represented in the \"Second official,\" in the Catalog division, the so-called \u201cUnion catalog,\u201d and the author catalog in the card section.\nProblems in Library Work:\n1. Books acquired prior to the beginning of their adoption of printed cards for catalogs (now the bulk of their collections);\n2. Books in series not yet analyzed by any libraries;\n3. Works in special collections in other libraries or in libraries devoted to special fields (e.g., the Dante collection at Cornell, the Hispanic Society\u2019s Library);\n4. Occasional book rarities in general libraries.\n\nWe have already filed at the Library of Congress in one alphabet the printed (or otherwise duplicated) cards from all these libraries, except the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh. This Union catalog now contains approximately 650,000 cards and is already of very great aid in locating a desired book. The shortcomings of the present combined list are numerous.\nThe next step is to expand this union catalog, making it available to investigators both outside and within Washington. Another method in preparing a union catalog of significant titles in American libraries is adhering to a plan long practiced at Harvard. When a list emerges of rare items in any library, two copies are acquired, cut up, mounted, and the library name stamped on the cards. These cards are then filed in the official catalog. Often, the knowledge that a copy is in Providence, Princeton, and Ann Arbor, and can be obtained through inter-library loan, fulfills an inquirer's need, saving not only cost but also time.\nThe important time, possibly years, for procuring a rare book that would otherwise be lost can be saved by suggesting this plan. There should be no serious difficulty in carrying it into effect. We would then be able to say that a book not in the government libraries of the District, and not shown by their printed cards to be in any of our greater libraries, is to be found in some special collection. The service to scholarship of such definite information need not be dwelt on.\n\nWhen the Prussians began the Gesammtkatalog of their university libraries in 1899, they had no such basis to work on as the printed cards of the Library of Congress provides us. They had the enormous advantage, from the point of execution, of governmennt libraries and resources that we have today.\nControl of the libraries involved in the scheme is steady under rigid rules. The catalog is growing with every assurance of accuracy and symmetry. But when completed, and the work of the Auskunftsbureau is in full swing, there will be no great advantage if we only plan our union catalog with thoroughness now and impress its practical value on librarians. We are able to save much time and trouble for investigators now. There is no reason why we should not greatly extend the service we now render. We shall live to see the day \u2013 and we shall not be so very old, either \u2013 when we can give a definite answer to the question, \"Where is that book?\"\n\nReference: Berlin, Konigliche Bibliothek. Jahresberichte, Anhang, 1909-1910, and earlier years.\n\nProblems in Library Work\n\nSwing, there will be no very great advantage over our situation, if we only plan our union catalog with a little thoroughness now, and succeed in impressing on librarians its practical value. We are able to save much time and trouble to investigators now. There is no reason why we should not greatly extend the service we now render. We shall live to see the day \u2013 and we shall not be so very old, either \u2013 when we can give a definite answer to the question, \"Where is that book?\"\nSo much for the unavailable book. How are we prepared to deal with a reader's request for the best book on a given topic or any book on that topic? This question opens up the entire field of subject cataloging and bibliographies. I do not propose to cover the whole of that field. Five years ago, at the Narragansett Pier Conference, I presented certain views on subject cataloging. Some points which stand out clearly as a result of further discussion and reflection on our subject catalogs as an aid to investigators I wish to mention. I wish, by the way, that I could be as confident in the future of subject cataloging as I am in providing a general author catalog for the United States.\nProblems in Library Work: Definiteness of subject headings seems more assured than in 1906. We have several agencies contributing to this end. First, the new A.L.A. \"List of Subject Headings\" has appeared, too recently for detailed criticism tonight. It is about four times the size of the old list, and, judging from a hasty examination, about ten times as valuable. Most changes, especially in subject headings, seem to be in the direction of precision and definiteness. Thus, we have a new tool. Second, the Library of Congress has begun the publication of its list of headings, which, like the A.L.A. list, is of general headings only, omitting most specific names. I greatly regret this omission myself. The value of this list will grow steadily more apparent with the years, especially.\nThe headings to be used in cataloging the Law Library have also been printed in tentative form for criticism and study. Two more tools, both extremely helpful in teaching method and securing uniformity of treatment, are listed below. Several of our largest libraries have recently taken up the systematic study and revision of their catalogs, among them Harvard, Columbia, Yale, and Chicago Universities. While little has been printed as the result of these efforts, they are bound to produce valuable results, which will become known and perhaps settle into principles of subject cataloging. The question is being agitated and will not continue a matter of indifference.\n\nThe fact remains, however, that good subject cataloging is essential.\nCataloging at the present time is largely a matter of the personal judgment of individual catalogers. There has not been formulated any such body of rules for subject entry as has been evolved by years of experiment and discussion for author entry. In the very nature of things, this is probably inevitable. The author is but one person, or at most a group of persons. Once the books are written, they do not change. An entry for the author which satisfies one generation of students is almost certain to satisfy the next generation, at least the exceptions will be few. But the subject, even of a simple book, is seldom single; the viewpoint of the users changes with untoward rapidity, and those users are both multifarious and to the last degree diverse. To devise adequate rules and methods of subject entry is a task which makes a far greater demand on our intellect and resources.\nProfession is more challenging than any we have met. When we have met it as best we know how, it remains to be done over again by our successors. Furthermore, the subject catalog suffers more than the author catalog from the disturbing factor of size. Groups of subject cards reaching into the hundreds or even thousands are an insult to the investigator as they stand in most of our catalogs today. They waste his time, hinder his judgment in selection, and baffle rather than help. Two remedies for the problem of size have been suggested: a selection of valuable titles and an inverse chronological arrangement of entries. The first frankly confesses that the catalog breaks down of its own weight. The second endeavors to prevent the strain from reaching the breaking point. I have suggested a combination of the two methods.\nThe situation facing the reference librarian is difficult when asked to produce the best work on a given topic, with the difficulty increasing in direct ratio to the size of the library and the zeal of the cataloger in multiplying subject cards. Whenever the inquiry is definite, minute, and limited, we can do pretty well. There is little trouble, for instance, in picking out two or three references on a specific topic.\nRecent valuable books on the War of 1812 include those on Calvin, the Ice Age, and allowing readers to choose the most suitable one for their needs. However, the approach is different when dealing with broad topics such as naval science, the Reformation, or geology. I'm unsure how to address such inquiries from a subject catalog in a large library. Catalogs are no longer made in this manner. Instead, we instinctively turn to bibliographies, book catalogs, or almost anything but a mass of cards.\n\nI recently examined the Library of Congress cards under the heading: \"Bible. New Testament. Bibliography.\" I did so to determine if anything had been published since 1900 on this topic that would replace Thayer's \"The use of books.\" It took me ten minutes to search under various headings.\nAnd I found in the cards nothing more recent and nothing else probably as good. A hasty search of the last two years of the American Journal of Theology gave me several items in about the same time. True, I had to wait while the magazine was sent for. This again is a challenge. We are making subject catalogs which break down in general fields, while yielding satisfactory results in topics on which the literature is limited, either because of their obscurity or their individuality. Why not frankly face the situation and devise remedies? And yet on how many subjects do we find no entries or no recent books? How often do even our large catalogs fail us? Here again, despite all we have just said as to the bulk of our subject catalogs.\nAnd the serious inconvenience it occasions, why not follow the plain lead of our author and entries? We have the beginnings of an author list of titles in American libraries not in the Library of Congress. We have author and subject lists of books in the Library of Congress so far as the re-cataloging has gone. Why not procure enough copies of their cards from other libraries which print to cover all their subject entries as well? The value of such an union subject catalog is most quickly seen in such a field as biography. The question whether a life of some comparatively obscure person has been printed is one of the most difficult we are called on to answer. A subject card in such a list would settle at least that point. There are hosts of other questions which would be solved, or put in the way of solution, by such a union catalog.\nThis is no proposal for anything unreasonable or enormously difficult or costly. It is merely for an extension on definite lines of a work already well begun. The difficulties of reconciling conflicting entries in filing, and all the minor inconveniences of such a task, I do not ignore. We encounter them all the time and solve them somehow. The value of the results is out of all proportion to these difficulties. Even on the score of method in cataloging, such an opportunity for laboratory observation in comparative work would be worth creating, could we ignore the practical benefit to readers. Inter-library loans throughout the country would be greatly increased in number if such a union catalog of subjects and authors were to be found in the Library of Congress.\nThe demand for information would soon make heavy inroads on the time of the Library of Congress staff. But the library has not shrunk from its duty to scholarship and learning in making public its own contents. Nor will it, I am confident, long hesitate to aid in assembling and using material which shall show the inquirer where to find the book it does not have.\n\nTraining in the Use of Books1,2\n\nI am fortunate to have in my office in the Library of Congress a collection of books that recalls daily one of the great men of our country, a man whose memory is especially dear to Virginians, Thomas Jefferson. Jefferson spent much time and money gathering a library.\nHis efforts extended over many years. In a letter written in 1814, he described them as follows: You know my collection, its condition and extent. I have been fifty years making it, and have spared no pains, opportunity or expense, to make it what it is. While residing in Paris, I devoted every afternoon I was disengaged, for a summer or two, in examining all the principal bookstores, turning over every book in my hand, and putting by every thing which related to America, and indeed what ever was rare and valuable in every science. Besides this, I had standing orders during the whole time I was in Europe, on its principal book-marts, particularly Amsterdam, Frankfort, Madrid and London, for such works relating to America as could not be found in Paris. So that, in that department particularly, such a collection.\nThe collection was made during a period that cannot be repeated, as the same opportunities, time, industry, perseverance, and expense, along with the same knowledge of the bibliography of the subject, are unlikely to align again. During the same period, and after my return to America, I was led to procure whatever related to the duties of those in high concerns of the nation.\n\nThis collection was gathered with great pains by the former President and purchased by the Government in 1815. It became the nucleus of the present Library of Congress. The greater part of that library had been destroyed in the previous August when the Capitol was burned by British troops. For many years afterwards, the Library was housed in the Patent Office Building, until it found a permanent home in the Capitol.\n\n1 An address delivered at the College of William and Mary.\n2 The Sewanee Review, July, 1912.\n\nTraining in Use of Books\n\nThis collection, painstakingly acquired by the former President, was purchased by the Government in 1815 and formed the nucleus of the present Library of Congress. The larger part of this library had been destroyed in the previous August when the Capitol was burned by British troops. For several years afterwards, the Library was housed in the Patent Office Building until it found a permanent home in the Capitol.\nMr. Jefferson's books formed the most useful and valuable portion of the collection, with about 7,000 volumes in total. However, the disastrous fire of 1851 destroyed a large part of the library, leaving only about 2,500 of Jefferson's books. Ninety-five years of wear and tear reduced this number to 2,000. These carefully preserved books, known as the \"Jefferson Collection,\" remain a witness to Jefferson's industry, learning, and zeal as the author of the Declaration of Independence.\n\nFortunately, we are not left to infer the character of the remainder of the collection from this small portion. A catalog of the entire collection was issued by the Library soon after the books were put in place.\nThe library, arranged in forty-four chapters according to the classification devised by Mr. Jefferson, remained in effect with some minor changes until the end of the century. The library revealed by the 1815 catalog was undoubtedly one of the best in America at that time. It was strongest in law and in American history, but it contained many valuable works and sets in philosophy, classical literature, theology, and belles-lettres. The books were of high quality, mostly in good editions and sound bindings.\n\nReflecting on this, it is remarkable that it was acquired largely during engrossing public duties, in time of war, and for the most part under the disadvantage of remoteness from the book markets of the old world.\nIn the United States, libraries, both public and private, numbered around 7,000 volumes. Harvard College had approximately 16,000 volumes in 1790; the New York Society Library, around 14,000; the Library Company and Loganian Library of Philadelphia, about 18,000; and the Library Society of Charleston, S.C., around 7,500. There may have been a dozen other libraries with over 7,000 volumes scattered along the Atlantic seaboard. Libraries with thousands of books were rare, and Mr. Jefferson\u2019s collection was a notable one for that day.\n\nFor that day, as the increase in the number and size of libraries since 1815 has been little short of marvelous. There are now in the United States over 2,300 libraries with more than 8,000 volumes each. Their total numbers reach well beyond this figure.\nOver eighty-five million volumes and eleven million pamphlets. In the year 1908, nearly twenty million persons read and studied in their reading-rooms. Seventy-five million books were issued for home use from only 1,384 of these 2,300. There are now over 10,000 persons employed in library work (including those charged with the care of buildings). Six libraries have more than 500,000 volumes; nine, more than 300,000 but less than half a million; and sixty-two, less than 300,000 but more than 100,000. Thus, in our land, there are now seventy-seven libraries, each one of which is more than fourteen times as large as the Library of Congress was when it started afresh with President Jefferson\u2019s collection in 1815. And that Library has grown from this original 7,000 to almost two million books and pamphlets, adding over time.\nOver 100,000 volumes annually are published. Moreover, the number of small collections, such as school, office, village, college, and professional libraries, which are not included in this somewhat wearisome array of figures, has increased significantly. At least sixty-five million books are required for use in this country \u2013 a figure that still falls short of one book per inhabitant.\n\nAdditionally, the production of books and magazines has increased in approximately the same proportions. News papers are likely no more numerous in proportion to the population than they were in the second decade of the nineteenth century, as most publishing activity of that time was focused on journalism. We have no reliable figures for the publication of books.\nAnd pamphlets in that period of our history. The great scholarly bibliographies have dealt largely with the colonial period, and the bulky trade bibliographies begin much later. In the midst of the War of 1812 and the impoverished condition which preceded and followed it, the publication of books was probably small. It is, of course, a commonplace of history that the United States was almost wholly agricultural in 1815; and in communities devoted largely to farming, book publishing does not ordinarily flourish as it does in an industrial society. A few hundred books, perhaps a thousand or more pamphlets, probably made up the annual output of this country in 1815. In Europe, the number was, of course, very much greater, although the period of the Napoleonic Wars was not favorable to extensive publishing.\n\nContrast this meagre production with what has followed in later years.\nIn 1910, there were published in the United States 13,470 books by 2,217 publishing firms. This number does not include directories and similar publications, official publications (with a few exceptions), or minor pamphlets. Thus, all but a few dozens of the thousands of publications of national, state, and municipal governments are not counted in these figures, nor are the hosts of catalogs of schools and colleges and many valuable publications of societies, such as yearbooks, annuals, bulletins, and journals, all of them materials of some worth, which are certain to find a resting place on library shelves. No account is taken in arriving at this number, 13,470, by Publishers Weekly, of the extensive magazine output of the country, nor of the huge number of periodicals.\nnewspapers  of  all  sorts.  Therefore  the  formidable \narray  of  nearly  fourteen  thousand  books  produced  in \nthe  United  States  in  one  year  is  far  from  being  the \nwhole  number  which  is  to  be  reckoned  with. \nGreat  Britain  produced,  in  1910,  10,804  works; \nGermany,  about  31,000;  France,  12,615,  and  Italy, \n6,788.  The  Scandinavian  countries,  Austria,  Spain, \nPortugal,  Holland,  Belgium,  Switzerland,  Greece,  and \nTurkey  must  have  published  among  them  at  least  twice \nas  many  as  Italy,  one  would  suppose,  wrhile  Australia, \nSouth  Africa,  and  India  will  easily  bring  the  total  up \nto  85,000  works  in  European  languages\u2014 not  including \nthe  literary  product  of  the  great  Slavic  nations.  This \nmakes  no  account  of  the  very  considerable  annual \noutput  of  books  on  the  Orient  and  in  South  America. \nTRAINING  IN  USE  OF  BOOKS \nWe  shall  not  be  far  wrong  if  we  say  that  at  the  very \nAt least 100,000 books are printed each year, any one of which may be called for by a reader in one of our great libraries. This is a deluge indeed. What a contrast to the conditions of Mr. Jefferson\u2019s day. Then the well-read man of letters or affairs, undisturbed by telegrams, cables, newspaper extras, telephone calls, ticker bulletins, automobile honks, next month's magazines, or \u201cred-hot\u201d fiction, could sit down to a leisurely perusal of the books his agent had sent him from Philadelphia or London, could re-read the classics, could keep abreast of the best thought of the day with reasonable success, and could master the contents of a library of 7,000 volumes with the comfortable assurance that he had read the majority of the best works of the world of letters.\n\nThat day has passed. The scholar of today is beset by...\nFearful of missing the latest treatise on his specialty, which has its own literature, despite limitations, the average man is nearly helpless before the mass of books in even a minor library. The craze for the \"latest\" novel, the most \"up-to-date\" reference book, characterizes the present demand for books. How, in the face of this flood, will the young man of our day find bearings; how will he master it, carry him to his goal, aid him in his life work? How will he avoid being overwhelmed by numbers, misled by cheap newness, misguided by advertising, and lost in a wilderness of printed matter when he essays to work in a modern library or to study?\nAttempting the mastery of any important question is my theme: training in the use of hooks, the acquiring of a scholar's attitude toward the printed page. Its timeliness is proven by every library bulletin, every publisher's announcement, by the experience of every teacher, and, I fear I must add, by the painful witness of much incompetent and careless journalism, and the enormous profits of publishers of cheaply made subscription books.\n\nHow that training may be obtained, and where it shall begin, I shall endeavor to set forth briefly, in the hope that such a theme cannot fail to be of interest to all connected with education.\n\nWe may begin with the child in school. Now certain elementary facts about books one naturally supposes everybody observes and knows. And yet experience shows that most school children \u2013 and many adults \u2013 do not.\nMany of their elders, for that matter, are seldom acquainted with the basic fact that a book has an author. To them, a book is a book; their arithmetic is their arithmetic book; not Robinson's, or Smith's, or Wentworth's, or anybody else's arithmetic. No one ever points out to them the fact that their textbook was written by anyone, and they usually know it by the color or by the name of the teacher in whose class they used it. This curious ignorance on the part of school children was first brought to my notice years ago, when examining orally a large number of candidates for entrance to a college and its preparatory department. Out of nearly a hundred young people ranging from twelve to twenty, not one was able to tell us the names of the writers of all the textbooks he had used during the previous term, and few, very few, could do so for most of them.\nFew knew the names of any of the authors. The answers were extremely vague in most cases, leading me in my inexperience to doubt seriously whether there had been any actual study of the various subjects. \"We had the same grammar everyone uses,\" \"The English history was a little green book,\" was the kind of reply my questioning elicited. And yet these same young folk did well in their classes and gave evidence of having really worked at the matter of these books concerning whose makers they had so little knowledge. Perhaps the matter is the all-important thing, but the poor author who gave it form - I speak for all textbook makers - deserves at least a bowing acquaintance. The indifference to the author in school days is too frequently carried over into later life.\nA young girl of my acquaintance, when asked about her school grade, replied she was in the third year of high school. \"Then you have been reading Cicero's Orations against Catiline?\" \"Well,\" she mused, \"we have been reading someone's orations about Catiline. I guess they were Cicero's, but whether they were for or against Catiline, I don't remember.\"\nTitle's importance for an author and a reader\n\nThe title of a book merits attention, though less significant than the author. This detail is essential, yet not entirely negligible. In school, children receive little help from teachers regarding this matter. The foundation of proper book usage begins when children learn that books are authored by people, possess names, and come in various forms.\n\nObservation skills, often discussed in pedagogic circles, can start with such basic details. Any librarian will confirm that titles are more frequently remembered than authors, but seldom recalled accurately. The girl requesting the red book her sister had last month is a testament to this.\nLess puzzling than the woman who insistsently calls for the book entitled \"For Better or For Worse,\" finally satisfied with Miss Johnston\u2019s \"To Have and to Hold,\" remarking complacently that she knew it was something out of the marriage service. It is not too much to expect that school children may have it pointed out by someone that a book generally has a table of contents and an index. I wonder how many teachers ever do this? How frequently do we find children helplessly turning the pages, looking in vain for some half-forgotten passage! Makers of textbooks generally provide indexes and tables, and presumably teachers use them, but too seldom are children systematically taught the necessity and use of these keys to the contents of a book. If we can secure some such early training in observing and understanding the primal factors in the making of a book.\nA book's value goes beyond its physical form as a mass of paper with ink impressions. Each book is a unique entity, a manifestation of someone's thoughts. To discriminate between books, a child must understand that a person wrote the textbook. With this knowledge, they can identify similar works by different authors and make informed choices based on the quality of each. Therefore, it's essential to know how well each author has executed their task.\nBooks are too serious a matter to discuss in this primary training on using books. Knowledge of which field or parts of a field different books cover is not important. This knowledge, derived from studying table of contents, is of extreme practical importance. A boy should learn that not all American histories end in 1912, and that there are numerous histories devoted to small periods of time. The author has a plan and purpose in writing, and two books on the same topic may be written from absolutely different points of view and for different ends. If a child once enters fairly into the idea that an author has an intention, they will discover this by reading prefaces and introductions.\nA person who reads for a specific class, such as children, or for a particular purpose, like an outline or elementary history, or from his own motivation, such as defending his conduct or expounding a theory, begins to discriminate between books. Once started, he will not likely cease. This training enables him to adopt an intelligent attitude towards books, recognizing they are created by individuals with varying gifts and purposes, abilities and designs. Furthermore, he will not be misled into assuming a well-known book is the one he desires. This is a fact attested to by all librarians: the average person seeking knowledge in English history requests Macaulay's History in its entirety.\nThe ignorance of the fact that it is largely devoted to the reign of James II leads some to request Gibbon from those seeking information about the Gracchi and Carlyle's French Revolution for Napoleon's later career. Elementary training, such as that which I have advocated, would eliminate this kind of error. The use of elementary reference books is more common in schools than this observation training. No school room beyond the sixth grade is complete without a dictionary and an atlas. However, few teachers recognize the wealth of information contained in a modern dictionary or train their pupils to find it. I can safely say also that they fail to train them thoroughly in the order of the alphabet, making it second nature to them \u2013 a key to arrangement of all sorts of books and catalogues.\nI know I am on forbidden ground here, and it is unfashionable in these days to teach the alphabet. But I am thankful that I \"learned my letters\" as a child. I do not insist on that process as a prerequisite to learning to read, but very soon after a child has learned to read, he should be drilled in the alphabet as a set of symbols. When he has learned this, he is ready to use a dictionary or an encyclopedia.\n\nThe wonders of a modern unabridged dictionary are not revealed to the casual observer. But they are a constant source of delight to children \u2013 I speak from experience \u2013 and of information to the teacher. A little training here will reveal to a bright child possibilities of which he will be eager to take advantage.\nAnd how few children are trained to use atlases or the maps in their geographies effectively. This is a fertile field for teachers' ingenuity. I find very few grown people who use atlases with speed and certainty. Usually, an uncertain finger wanders over the map in search of the name of the desired place. The letters and figures in the margin, the indexes, the table of contents - they are ignored. And yet, these devices are so simple and easily used that children, once introduced to their meaning, make a game of locating a town, a river, a county. This elementary sort of training can reasonably be expected of all pupils who complete the primary course. The ordinary textbook, the dictionary, the atlas - they are all the vehicles, all the apparatus required.\nFor conveying it. There is no need for an elaborate library or much formal training, and yet the results of the teacher's occasional direction and careful supervision will later show all the difference between a blind following of a set of printed formulas, and a discriminating and intelligent attitude toward a book.\n\nNot all children who reach our secondary schools find in them good school libraries. We have been slow to realize the need of a school library in the curriculum of the high school, and the importance of its function in the scheme of secondary education. And even where books have been provided generously, there has been but little appreciation of the possibilities of training which are latent in even a small collection. Too often, the care of the high school library has been an added burden placed on an already heavy workload.\nWithin the past twenty years, many of our larger cities have appointed librarians for high school libraries. In a few places, these librarians have become what they should all be - teachers of the art of using books. Slowly, under the influence of some state library commissions and enlightened high school principals, teachers and school authorities are beginning to see that the school library affords training in the use of books. This knowledge is absolutely needed as an aid to modern instruction in literature, history, and science. It is even more valuable as furnishing the means whereby pupils may become adepts in the use of libraries, an art which has been neglected.\nIn the secondary school, students should learn the elements of dealing with books in libraries. When they come to college, they should not be helpless but happy in the opportunity to make quick and efficient use of a large library. Formal instruction from the high school librarian, which is now given with great success in many schools, should teach students that books need to be arranged or classified on some system. Usually, they are grouped according to similar themes.\nA person, upon comprehending this concept and its corollary \u2013 that a single book can only reside in one place, thus it must be placed among those books with which it shares the most similarities \u2013 will swiftly grasp classification notations. He should also learn the use of a simple catalog on cards and master the principle of alphabetical arrangement. If a boy knows how to utilize the card catalog of a high school library, he can effortlessly use any other catalog, even one as extensive as the Library of Congress' card catalog with its two thousand trays and its hundreds of thousands of entries.\n\nIn secondary schools, pupils can easily learn the use of magazine indexes. Few tools are needed, such as \"Guide to Periodical Literature.\"\nA young man should have an elementary equipment in using books by the time he is ready for college, even if most of the indexed volumes are not in his school or town library. Careful and tactful teaching of the habit of using books as tools, an intelligent direction of his attitude toward the books he has at hand, and the fullest possible use of the school library under competent guidance are all that a training in the use of books demands as a beginning. A student thus equipped has an advantage over one who has only known books.\nIt is merely printed matter containing certain information which he acquired reluctantly, and whose ability to use books in collections is an absolute negative quantity. It is a common complaint against modern colleges that they do not acquaint students with the great literatures of the world. Education for culture is said not to exist, or at least not to succeed. Whatever measure of truth may be found in this contention, it may be worthwhile to point out that the old-fashioned college course of four years, rigid and arid as it was, failed even more completely than that of today to introduce students either to the great literatures of Greece and Rome - small samples of which were minutely and painfully dissected daily - or to those of the modern languages. In few cases in the earlier two-thirds of the nineteenth century was the routine education.\nText-book recitation or formal lecture abandoned in favor of a wide comparison of authorities or an independent study of the literature of a period. If I do not read amiss, educational history and the reminiscences of our fathers, the old-fashioned college course was not that \u201cgood old time\u201d to which educational reformers would hark back. Certainly no young man in any American college had an opportunity to study in the forties, or even in the sixties, such topics as the Romantic Movement in German literature, the French Chansons de Geste, or the Greek dialectic poets.\n\nWe should be far wrong, however, to infer that the old-fashioned college with its small faculty, its limited resources, and its narrow curriculum offered a comprehensive education in literature.\nThe rigid curriculum, with its hard and fast class lines, failed to foster a love for literature and reading. There was more leisure for reading among students and faculty. There was almost without exception an abundance of life in the literary and debating societies \u2013 organizations which are not everywhere vigorous today. Athletics did not absorb so much of the student-body's energy, and it is probably true that there was more reading on individual initiative than there is today, when formal instruction is found in such a wide range of subjects, even in the smallest colleges.\n\nIn fact, the modern college and university have bred a peculiar attitude toward books on the part of students. Certain books are required to be read for entrance into English \u2013 books which are the birthright of all who speak the English tongue. And many a lad is denied this privilege.\nA reader engages with Quentin Durward, Ivanhoe, or The Princess, among other texts, in the same spirit as boys read Julius Caesar's commentaries. The practice of \"collateral reading\" has been overused, making books for a specific course mere adjuncts - Professor So-and-so's books - and less than textbooks in students' eyes.\n\nWorse still, seminar and departmental libraries have had a detrimental effect on advanced students. They are only interested in books not in these libraries, making them unworthy. Instead of broadening their knowledge, this convenient grouping of certain books as tools tends to restrict it. To avoid seeming exaggerated, I will share an observation. A certain very discerning student.\nA distinguished professor in one of our largest universities, by some unusual chance, wandered so far from his seminar that he came upon the general card catalog of the university library. \"How convenient and admirable a thing this catalog is,\" he said, after half an hour's study of it; \"I must have it copied for the economics seminar.\"\n\nThis and other influences often result in an attitude of indifference toward the college library on the part of students. I have watched students who came every day for weeks to read certain required books, and have never seen them read anything else \u2014 doubtless it was true that they had not the time. I have seen the graduate student stick to the seminar until it grew to represent the world of letters to him. I have regretfully noted the presence in laboratories of students of the sciences for research.\nHours every day \u2014 hours so long that they never had time for cultural reading. And I must admit, I have known boys who passed an entire four years in a college with 350,000 books in its library, and who in those four years never entered its doors.\n\nA large part of this indifference is due to at least two factors: the lack of the sort of training in secondary schools that I have been emphasizing, and the almost criminal indifference on the part of college and university authorities, including their librarians, towards the development of cultural reading and the sense of mastery of books.\n\nPlunge an untrained boy into a library of thirty, fifty, or hundred thousand books \u2014 how is he to pick and choose, how shall he get his start? He needs formal training.\nTraining in the use of books and bibliography is an essential part of the rudiments and even refinements of bibliography. In German universities, the professor usually lectures at the beginning of each course on the bibliography of the subject they are about to discuss with the class during the semester. These lectures are generally the most highly prized and faithfully attended of the course. The custom has had some notable imitators in America, and I have always been profoundly grateful that most of my professors at Michigan followed this practice. In recent years, Princeton has been going much further in the work of her \"preceptors.\" Here and there, a college librarian has given lectures with more or less success on the use of the library and bibliography. Considering the literary deluge of the day and the ever-growing number of publications, this training is increasingly important.\nThe number of books in our college libraries necessitates methods different from indifference and past practices. I cannot detail these methods here, as they have not been successfully worked out. College librarians and professors are earnestly studying them, experimenting and testing ways and means. The college library must deliberately spend thought and money on advertising its resources and interposing as few obstacles as possible between its books and readers. What should result from such bibliographic training? A young man, equipped as we would have him, should show a certain readiness and ease among books; he should treat them with:\n\nHe should, it seems to me, show first a certain readiness and ease among books; he should treat them with respect and familiarity.\nHe should know all as at least acquaintances, who may become friends any day. He does not know them, perhaps, but he knows where they live and why, and what they purport to do for a living. He is not surprised to learn that some live largely on their past reputation, others lead a double life, and a few are not reliable or no better than they should be.\n\nSecondly, he should know well and familiarly those directories and elite lists of the literary world \u2013 which tell him where anyone may be found, or where the best books of any sort dwell. He should use easily bibliographic tools of all sorts, from the simple check list to the erudite works of Fabricius and Poggendorf. And he should know these.\nHe must read extensively in his own subject to gain a good understanding of it. Only then will he develop a historical sense and grasp the man's attitude towards the printed page. He will recognize that books are imperfect means of acquiring knowledge and must engage with them to benefit. He will require little assistance from librarians but will not hesitate to ask questions when necessary. Of greater value than any facility in using catalogues, bibliographies, and indexes will be the ability to judge the comparative merits of new and old books. If he has learned to read great reviews, appreciate the personal equations of authors, publishers, and reviewers, and suspect the power of advertising, even in scientific subjects, he will have acquired some essential skills.\nA man who forms his own judgments has gained an attitude towards books from the college library, professors, fellow students, and earlier training. This attitude, which can't be defined but may be called discriminating, makes such a man not dated in later life by college opinions and views. Equipped to cope with books and, to a lesser degree, men, I value the ability to work easily and familiarly with books in collections. However, I'm aware of the serious dangers in this familiarity and facility. Librarians, with their intimate knowledge of books' backs, are particularly susceptible to these dangers.\nOne should not deceive themselves into thinking they truly understand the contents of books they custodialize. The temptation is subtle and strong, and its influence is not limited to bookkeepers. No one should be deceived into believing that, because they know the royal path to learning, its markers, directories, and intricacies, they are automatically traveling that path themselves. There is no virtue or praise in this knowledge if it is not used to aid oneself or another in actual progress.\n\nNo one is truly educated in the use of books unless they have mastered a few. Their facility with many books should leave them the necessary leisure to delve into great works, to immerse themselves in them, and to make these works an integral part of themselves. What these books should be is not clear.\nOne man feeds his soul on Shakespeare, another on Newton's Principia. However, certain works should be a part of every educated man's nature, regardless of profession. The English Bible is still the greatest work in the English language. The youth who reaches maturity without a thorough knowledge of its wonderful prose and poetry, and its message of personal religion and duty toward God and man, has missed the greatest intellectual and moral training the language affords. I don't care how he interprets it. Let him know the Bible from cover to cover and consider his own relation to it what he will. There are other English books, too, which no man can afford not to know intimately. Shakespeare and Milton among the poets; Bacon and Addison among the writers.\nAmong Emerson, Son and other essayists, Green, Macaulay, and Parkman among historians, are a few names that come to mind. Who dares claim ignorance of Homer and Vergil, Dante, Goethe and Schiller, Cervantes and Montaigne? The man who has not as a boy devoted himself to the reading and re-reading of at least a few of the world's great books is poorly prepared to cope with the literary deluge of our day or the plausible sophistries of the time. He has necessarily a low standard of literary judgment. He has sold his birthright of noble books for a mess of pottage, whose chief ingredients are Sunday newspapers and illustrated weeklies.\nHe that is faithful to the mastery of a few great books will use easily the tools provided for handling the lesser books. Secure in the possession of some works which the ages have tested, he will welcome the good in the mass of new books, make the indifferent or even the bad serve his need without lowering himself to its level, will show his training in the use of books not alone in the ease with which he masters bookish problems or acquires information, but much more in the character of his thinking and in the standard of his judgments.\n\nCataloging as an Asset\nIt may not be improper to preface this discourse by saying that the subject was assigned by the Director when he asked me to speak to you. I do not know that I should myself have chosen this topic, nor do I feel that my authority to speak on it may be unquestioned.\n\nHowever, I believe that I can offer some insights into the importance of cataloging as an asset, both for individuals and for institutions.\n\nCataloging is the systematic arrangement and description of books and other materials, making it easier for users to find and access the information they need. In an age of ever-increasing amounts of information, cataloging has become an essential tool for managing knowledge.\n\nFor individuals, cataloging can help in organizing personal collections, making it easier to locate specific books or documents. It can also aid in the discovery of new resources, as cataloging often reveals relationships between different works and subjects.\n\nFor institutions, cataloging is a critical component of effective information management. Well-cataloged collections can be easily searched and accessed by researchers, students, and other users, enhancing the value of the institution's holdings and increasing their utility.\n\nMoreover, cataloging is not a static process. With advances in technology and changing user needs, cataloging practices must evolve to keep pace. This requires ongoing investment in training and resources, as well as a commitment to staying abreast of new developments in the field.\n\nIn conclusion, cataloging is an essential asset for both individuals and institutions. It enables the effective organization, management, and discovery of information, and is a critical component of any knowledge management strategy. By investing in cataloging, we can ensure that our collections remain valuable and accessible, and that we are able to make the most of the wealth of knowledge available to us.\nI am glad to have the opportunity to discuss a proposition that, it seems, should go unquestioned by most librarians. I may approach it with less bias than one who earns a living by cataloging. I earn mine, in part, by using catalogs and have done so for the past ten years. As a consumer of cataloged materials, I am entitled to express my opinion of the value of this product in my daily work.\n\nBefore we discuss the relative value of the various phases of a librarian's calling, it is highly desirable that we first ask ourselves what that calling is. I assume that the ultimate goal of most of you as students of this library school is the administration of an organized collection.\nBooks for the benefit of some community.\n\n1. An address to the New York State Library School, May 1, 1915.\n\nCataloging as an Asset\n\nIt has been the distinction of this library school that it has produced administrators. If you look at this ambition carefully, you will see that it involves several elements. There is the executive side of a librarian's duties, the successful management of specialists and the adaptation of their product to the community's needs. There is the actual performance of the technical processes of library work, the strictly \"professional\" side. Successful librarianship is really good engineering. A civil, mechanical, or hydraulic engineer must be a scientifically trained man. He must be a capable administrator. Shorn of either part of his equipment, he falls into comparative insignificance, even into failure. Just so, the successful librarian.\nA librarian requires a combination of technical skill, familiarity with technical processes, and administrative ability. The mere man of affairs rarely achieves mastery of any profession. If he did, there would be no need for technical training in schools. The mere faithful worker, however, seldom blooms into a capable director of large enterprises. Library work has developed a multitude of technical processes in the last thirty years. Simultaneously, it has transformed from rather small to rather large undertakings, with large plants, many branches, and budgets of considerable size. In all this, what value is a knowledge of cataloging?\n\nCataloging as an Asset\n\nInstead of attempting to answer this question dogmatically, we may find it profitable to briefly examine some phases of what is popularly referred to as cataloging.\nIn professional circles, the library movement is known to us. Those of us with memories reaching back a quarter century or who have studied library history in the United States have witnessed, or noted, numerous changes. The library world has had its shifting fashions, not to mention its hourly fads. In the earlier years of the public library movement, before the Centennial and the Library Journal, the art of cataloging and the making of catalogs in book form were much honored and practiced. In fact, it ranked second only to the art and practice of advantageous book-buying. You will find that even very small libraries printed catalogs.\nElaborate catalogs of their books, almost forgotten now, were published by larger institutions such as the Astor, Boston Athenaeum, Brooklyn Library, and others. The earlier meetings of the Library Association and the earlier volumes of the Library Journal were filled with discussions on cataloging practice. Lind, Erfle, Perkins, and Cutting each printed separate (and very diverse) codes of rules; these are just three of a score. It is hard for a careful student of cataloging to realize how much the practice of the art was simplified and made uniform by this very excess of discussion and effort. Classification and cataloging occupied the major part of the curriculum in the early years of library training.\nIn the early nineties, definite matters and controverted subjects in librarianship became evident. Up to the time of the World\u2019s Fair at Chicago in 1893, librarians' attention had been mainly centered on internal library management, including bookstacks, binding, cataloging, and classifying, charging and registration systems. While other matters did occupy thought and receive attention, the emphasis was on internal matters. In the next few years, buildings and library extension emerged, followed by a sudden focus on:\n\n\"sudden advancement in the fields of bibliography, bibliotheca, and bibliology.\"\nThe library's activities expanded in every external relation. The story hour and children's work were great discoveries, followed by traveling libraries and commission work. Branch libraries then emerged, almost like the dragon's teeth of the fable, with work done with schools, clubs, and every form of social organization that could use books. Today, it is legislative reference work that is popular \u2013 destined to grow into a usefully organized branch of library work, but still unformed and perhaps a little self-important and cocksure of its value. Amidst this sudden expansion in various directions came the practical realization of theorists' dreams from an earlier day in the establishment of the Card Distribution work of the Library.\nThe unifying and clarifying method of cataloging brought about by the American Library Association's Committee on Catalog Rules and the creation of a great central cataloging bureau at Washington marked the opening of the twentieth century in American library history. As the last fifteen years have seen the slow growth of card stock from nothing to 675,000 titles, so the energy, will power, and force that went into the production of catalog cards in each library have been (to a great degree) turned into other channels. So also has the cataloging product moved along the line of least resistance. The Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh is almost the sole large American library that ventures to put out a book catalog.\nSince 1900, the changes have been little short of marvelous. Seventy-five percent of the cards required in the various libraries of the country are being supplied by the Library of Congress. It is not unusual, in fact, it is almost inevitable, that there should have been a lessening of interest in cataloging work and even a dearth of catalogers. I say this is not unusual. But it is none the less unfortunate. The successful adaptation of a manufactured product is seldom as interesting as the making itself. The remnant of books for which cards cannot be had, which must still be laboriously cataloged in each library, is not usually the most attractive portion of the yearly accessions. The knotty problems, the intricate questions, the perpetual rendering of decisions which make cataloging an ever fresh and challenging endeavor.\nNovel games are vanishing with each entry decided and reduced to print at Washington. Bibliography claims the attention of those whose bent is toward the strictly bookish side of our calling. Catalogs and catalogers are not in the forefront of library thought. In fact, a certain impatience with them and their wares is to be detected in many quarters. Shallow folk are inclined to belittle the whole cataloging business. And there have not been wanting persons to sit in the seat of the scornful.\n\nHow true it is that we cannot see the wood for the trees! Here we have gone on losing interest in cataloging as an asset. Catalogs have grown to amazing proportions. Year by year we have been adding huge numbers of books to all our libraries. We have established more and more branches.\nWe have split up the library into departments, leading to a necessary multiplication of records almost without limit. We have office catalogs, shelf lists, card indexes, and public catalogs, to the point that nobody knows what will be the end. We have continued to use an instrument whose value for small collections is well established, and we have built it up until it fairly threatens to break down of its own size and weight. We have tacitly abandoned catalogs in book form. However, we have not seemed to realize that all our skill and abilities are now needed to make our huge card catalogs workable. We shall need every bit of energy, vigor, and knowledge that we possess to adapt the card catalog to libraries in the future. Instead of releasing us from an obligation, instead of making the proper record of our books a matter of mere routine.\nThe universal use of printed cards demands new zeal, new skill, and an added technique from librarians. Problems of selection, arrangement, display, and interpretation of the catalog are pressing. The cataloger must be an administrator to meet future needs; an administrator cannot be ignorant of these cataloging problems that must be solved.\n\nCataloging as an Asset\n\nI may bring this home to you with more force by some consideration of the practical use of catalogs. For it is as a working tool that I would have you consider the catalog. Libraries keep some sort of accessions record for business ends. But they make catalogs for the use of their readers. The point is vital. Unless you think of the catalog as an instrument, not primarily a record.\nFor modern cataloging practice, the point of view is lost entirely if you do not understand its function. It is an instrument used to determine if a library possesses a specific book or any books on a particular topic of interest. Although it can be utilized for numerous other purposes, these two primary reasons explain its existence.\n\nHowever, no instrument can be effortlessly, safely, and successfully employed by a casual user. This challenge is a significant factor in the difficulties encountered when utilizing card catalogs.\n\nWho employs a card catalog? For whom is it intended? This question lies at the heart of many discussions regarding the advantages and disadvantages of this machine. Evidently, it is not intended for travelers or children just starting school. Persons desiring to read or study a specific book or subject are the typical users.\nUsers of card catalogs. For the idle or the curious browser, these are the open shelves; for the fiction seeker, the finding list and more open shelves; for the child, the children's room; for the man in a hurry, the reference collection and its attendants. What a change from a generation ago! I remember too well my despair at searching an author catalog for \"something to read\" on a Saturday night in my Alma Mater's library, where there were no open shelves, no circulation, no reference collection, and no lists of fiction. Is it not plain that these developments of the past twenty years have accompanied the supplanting of the old book catalog and finding list and their replacement by the card catalog? Is it not a perfectly fair statement that in the users of a card catalog there may be presumed some modicum of intelligence and a desire to find information efficiently?\nI do not believe that the card catalog can ever be made so easy to operate, especially in this day of large libraries, that every chance comer can handle it successfully without some instruction. It is not intended primarily for the curious or the hurried reader. It is a tool demanding some deftness in its use. More than that, for most inquiries reaching beyond the stage of the merely obvious, it is a most complicated instrument requiring great skill and long practice in the searcher.\n\nBut why is the catalog a complex and difficult instrument? Why is it not simple and easy to operate? Why should it not be so sensibly made that the wayward man - though a fool - need not err therein? What are catalogers, anyway, that they set up rules?\nAnd are catalogs difficult for the ordinary man to understand? These and similar questions are continually raised. They must be addressed, even in a library school. There is one straightforward and honest answer to these questions. Catalogs are complex because people and books are complex. Catalogs are not simple, because people and books are not simple. If each book were written by one author, who never changed his name from the way it appeared on the title page of his first book; if each book were published at some clearly designated place and on a date explicitly set forth; if there were but one edition permitted; if there were no societies, clubs, universities, journals, academies, legislatures, governments issuing books; if all reprints, separates, and pre-prints could be prevented, then, and only then, might catalogs become simple.\nThe author's side is not the actual state of things. Go to your order department and scan the first truckload of books coming in. Unless you find a batch of current novels straight from the press, I venture to say you will find that at least half cannot be cataloged \"simply.\" Every possible variety and mode of publication will meet you in any large library. Divergent forms of sur-Cataloging as an Asset: name and of forename; governmental, institutional and society publications; serials and series; news papers and magazines; reprints, new editions, translations, abridgments, commentaries; official and non-official reports; dissertations and programs; authors dead a couple of thousand years, and others just beginning to write; a jumble of every possible sort.\nResponsibility for the appearance of things in print requires uniformity and common sense, making it easy to identify any item in the catalog. But what about the subject side? Can it be treated \"simply\"? Apply the test of experiment. Go over your truck-load of new books. Remember that the subjects you assign to them must fit with those already given to thousands of other books in the library. Consider also the needs of the specialist and the novice. Moreover, keep in mind the writer's point of view. Is this an easy task that can be completed in a half-hour by any \"sensible\" person? You will find it much harder than the job of deciding the subjects.\nWho wrote the books? I repeat, the complexity of cataloging at the present day arises from the complicated and involved problems presented by the books themselves. The rules and practice are vastly simpler than they were sixty years ago. If you don't believe me, try to apply Panizzi's Rules to the next set of books you come across and contrast the result with that of the American Library Association's Rules.\n\nOne of the favorite arguments of certain folk who think cataloging an expensive and much over-lauded luxury of the profession is that book-sellers and auctioneers make perfectly intelligible catalogs at a very low cost. I have been checking and searching such catalogs for many years, and I venture to say that as a rule, they are the worst products of the cataloger's art. Their careless entries, their suppressed information, and their inconsistent use of terminology make them unreliable sources for bibliographic information.\nIt is difficult to identify the correct books due to inaccurate name listings. Proof-reading errors make it challenging to determine if you possess the advertised book. A specialized detective skill is necessary to uncover the actual book hidden beneath misleading entries. Large libraries have paid dearly for book-sellers' cataloging errors and employ assistants to search for appealing items, benefiting their budgets. Order and reference work cannot be done successfully without extensive knowledge of cataloging practices in your library and those of previous book-sellers and bibliographers.\n\nCataloging as an Asset\nI could continue to demonstrate this in almost every branch\nA knowledge of cataloging is practically essential for library work. From the moment a book is suggested for purchase until it reaches the first reader, numerous processes must be completed, most of which (save the merely mechanical) require an acquaintance with cataloging rules. In administering the books added to the collection, a knowledge of cataloging is equally important. However, it is in reference work that a thorough knowledge of cataloging counts most. I cannot stress enough the need for reference workers who are trained catalogers. When I hear any one in my force begin to say \"they do so and so\" in speaking of the catalog and its makers, I despair.\nHim. Unless his thought and word are \"the rule is so and so,\" he doesn't have the root of the matter in him. Up to a certain point, one may do fairly good reference work without resorting to the catalog, but that point is reached very quickly in a modern library. Perhaps you do not realize the difficulty of ascertainting that a book wanted is, or is not, in your library. It may seem an easy matter enough, requiring only a glance at a few cards. But even in a small library, this is not always certain, and in a moderately large one, it is always dangerous to say that a book asked for is not owned by the institution. Cataloging is an asset. The longer I work, the more I respect the rule (which we rigidly enforce in the Library of Congress Reading Room) against giving a negative answer as to our possession.\nThere are many possibilities that hide in the form of a question, the intricacies of the catalog, and the lack of knowledge of the searcher. It is seldom that you have all the elements in the problem under your control when you begin your search. If you find the book, well and good. But if you don't, the problem is filled with queries. Is the author's name correctly spelled? Is he really the author? Is the title right? Is it possible that the book is part of a set not yet analyzed in the catalog? Has a magazine article been asked for under the impression that it is a book? Can you find a correct description of the book (to settle a few of these doubts) in some other catalog or index? Is it a book too new to have been received and cataloged? These are but a few of the questions you must answer.\nBefore dismissing \"No, it isn't here,\" consider the following: A reference assistant lacking the ability to utilize his own and other catalogs is nearly worthless. I don't ask you to accept this viewpoint without evidence. Here are a couple of examples:\n\nCataloging as an Asset\n\nA few weeks ago, I received an inquiry from a historian working on early California history. He lamented that we did not have a copy of a frequently cited book in his works - Viage de Sutil y Mexicana en el ano de 1792. Madrid, 1802. No entry was found under Sutil or Mexicana in our old or new catalogs. \"But,\" he added.\nI said to myself, \"Mexicana is feminine. It probably can't be a compound Spanish name of a person. Must be a ship since this is a voyage. Let's look at the British Museum Catalog, which has a comfortable fashion of neglecting no proper names found on title pages. Sure enough! Here it is: Mexicana (Ship), see Relacion del viaje de Sutil y Mexicana, etc. C. Valdes is given in brackets after the \"Mexicana,\" perhaps her commander, perhaps the author. Let's look at Valdes in our cards. Here it is: \"Valdes, Flores Bazan y Peon, Cayetano.... See Espinosa y Tello, Jose. Relacion de Viaje de Sutil, etc. Two copies!\" Now I call your attention to two facts. First, that the Library of Congress catalog had a title entry for \"Relacion de viaje\" and had the title been quoted accurately, the book would have been found at once. Second,\nA cataloger's fear of too many entries and complicating the catalog led to a violation of the rule, as no entries were added for the names of the ships. Five entries were missing. The book was found in ten minutes due to the cataloger's familiarity with the British Museum Catalog.\n\nAnother case involved a Senator who wanted a report made by Justice Hughes on the Railway Mail Service, but he didn't know when or where it was made. This posed a problem since there was no entry under Hughes in the catalog, and Who's Who only provided a terminus a quo, stating he was appointed to the Supreme Court in 1910.\nA report was concealed in a government document, so the Document Catalog and Supplements were put into requisition. No results; nothing under Hughes or Railway Mail Service. However, a hazy recollection that there had been a Congressional row over second class mail matter led me to look at that subject. Still no help, but a \"See also\" reference to \"Postal Commission\" at the end sent me to our cards under United States. Postal Commission. Here I found cards for the old commission of the nineties, and at the very end, an added entry referring to a message from the President to Congress, transmitting a Report of the Postmaster General. This report, when sent for, proved to contain the Report of the Commission on Second Class Mail, headed by Mr. Justice Hughes.\nIt takes only half an hour. Without knowledge of cataloging rules, particularly those of the Documents Office, it would not have been found \u2013 unless we had telephoned over to Justice Hughes\u2019 Office and asked about it \u2013 and you couldn't do that when he was on the bench listening to arguments and the Senator wanting his document immediately.\n\nIt is clear enough then, that reference librarians must know cataloging principles and practice well. But so must all workers who deal with library records. Consider the problems presented by the need to keep track of books in the branches of a modern public library. What a complicated thing is a modern \"union shelf list,\" a \u201ccombined catalog\u201d! And how near we are to the day of union catalogs or \u201crepertories\u201d designed to show the resources of cities, or regions, perhaps of the entire country.\nCountry: Anyone unversed in practical cataloging undertaking to supervise such records? I predict that within ten years, we shall have in Washington a card record of practically all important books in that city. Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, and the State of Indiana have produced printed lists of serial publications on file in their libraries. Union lists of all books in sharply defined fields (as books in Chinese) are even projected \u2013 perhaps almost completed.\n\nCataloging is a day of cooperation, and cooperation in most cases on the common basis of one set of cataloging rules governing a supply of contributed entries. You will begin to see something of the value of those rules in your practical work at cataloging. It is not drudgery. It is not wasted effort. In studying cataloging you will find it valuable.\nIf a knowledge of cataloging is a very practical necessity for a trained librarian - though by no means his sole necessary equipment - it would seem to follow naturally that the courses in that subject in library schools should prove one of the most profitable and practical parts of the curriculum. Far from criticizing the manner in which instruction in cataloging is presented, I have a feeling that the method of approach on the part of both instructors and pupils has in many cases left something to be desired. The reader's point of view and the advantages to be gained by a thorough understanding of cataloging techniques should be emphasized more in cataloging courses.\nFrom a administrative perspective, I would argue that the importance of cataloging has been overlooked in instruction. Here are the codes of rules to be taught, certain practices, and devices to be inculcated. Time is short, and the deceptive methods of book markers are numerous. The intricacies and mechanics of cataloging (which must be acquired!) naturally take center stage in a teacher's view. On the other hand, the pupil is often impatient with so much detail, so many rules, so many exceptions, and so much drudgery. However, if both parties keep in mind the reader and their needs, as well as the task imposed by the vast and varied number of books to be listed in an orderly fashion, and if we never lose sight of the human inquiries of the one and the imperative demands made by the budget, then the process becomes more manageable.\nI would urge most library school graduates, instead of their preference for administration, reference work, or branch/department charges, to spend a couple of years in the cataloging department of a good-sized library. Cataloging offers invaluable training in accuracy, observation, judgment, and general library skill. In my own work, I have found this to be true.\nPrefer graduates with such experience over persons cataloging as an asset, even those who had practiced in reference work for a couple of years. The practical benefit would be very great for foundation service in charge of a library. Persons thrust into library control can seldom comprehend the real difficulties and needs of the work. They are either disposed to cut expenses to the great detriment of the service or helplessly allow technical processes to remain a mystery not to be too closely looked into. But the librarian who has served his time at classifying, cataloging, or ordering books is never helpless or mystified in the face of library technique. Nor is he ignorant of its real needs and its true value.\n\nMay I be permitted a word of personal reminiscence.\nI was pitched into library work twenty years ago almost without warning, and wholly without technical library training, although I had fortunately seen more of the inside of libraries than most youngsters of twenty-four. I had entertained large bibliographical plans at the university, and in company with another enthusiast had combed the \"Berichte\" of the Berlin and Vienna Academies of Sciences for all articles on classical philology. We left the cards for these articles as a pious legacy to the Classical Seminar at Michigan. (I wonder what became of them?) My first task as a librarian was to catalog the whole of Von Gebhardt und Harck's Texte und Untersuchungen; and precious little guidance for that job did I then find in Cutter's Rules, my sole aid. But I found out all about conjunctions.\nI had to acquire tents, series, monographs, translators, editors, commentators, and subject cards for the lot. It was a case of sink or swim. I'm not sure what kind of entries I produced, but the professors had no difficulty in finding those books. And nothing in the way of cataloging has ever seemed an impossible task to me since. Perhaps I overestimate the value of cataloging experience because I have had so much of it from the very beginning of my librarian work. But I covet that experience for others.\n\nMoreover, there are certain indirect results of the study and practice of cataloging which I must at least name. The extremely difficult task of correctly describing a book or a document becomes, through repetition and criticism, practically a habit. The work breeds a truly accurate habit of mind, at least so far.\nCataloging as an Asset\n\nThe observation and noting of certain externals go like this. A cataloger is not ordinarily at a loss in an effort to locate a book or to identify a citation. This ability is worth much. Scores of abbreviated book titles come to us every day, and it is persons with a good knowledge of cataloging who most readily interpret them. Every librarian has to use the tools of his trade, and they are every day getting more complicated. Bibliographies of all sorts are more easily used by one who has had cataloging training than by others, particularly card bibliographies. The day is coming when most library records will be on cards, and when one set of rules for entry (the cataloging rules) will govern most of these records. Finally, let no one underrate the value of the cataloger's acquaintance with reference books. Not only does he peruse them frequently, but he also understands their organization and can quickly find the information needed.\nThe librarian learns to use cataloging practices, adopting a critical and discriminating attitude towards them for his own needs, not for the needs of others. Indirect benefits of cataloging are worth as much or more than the obvious training in one line of work. The librarian's work is for the day, the hour, with no visible monument ordinarily erected by his labors. Readers come and go, served and aided, while the next day brings new needs and new arrangements of books. There is no permanence in a classification system.\nIn the very nature of things, a grouping of books which suits one time and place cannot suffice for another set of readers and another view of life. However, the accurate and faithful description of a book according to a known code abides. Didbin\u2019s entries are as good for purposes of identification as Proctor\u2019s or Pellechet\u2019s. The item in the Boston Athenaeum Catalog is as useful as that in the A.L.A. Book List or on the Library of Congress Card. The cards written here in Albany and put in the catalog have a permanent value. Even if they are replaced by a printed entry, it is the same entry, perhaps in a trifle fuller form. In cataloging, there is an element of stability and permanence which carries a certain inner satisfaction that is very great.\nReal. Not omnis moriar can be said of each cataloger's work. That at least is an asset in a world of change. And what of the future? Are we to have practically the same sort of catalogs as in the past? Are there no signs of change? I would be a rash man who would predict, and I am neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet. But some things are very plain even to a reference librarian who is not a cataloger. We have just begun, in America, an era of huge libraries. The average size is increasing very fast. Our large libraries are getting very large. They are being run for wide constituencies on broad lines. More and more the practical American spirit is seeking coordination and cooperation. It is by no means certain that the card form of catalog will continue indefinitely as the chief tool of library workers.\nIt is highly probable that selected catalogs will be used as substantial general repositories for most purposes. The faint outlines of possibilities for mechanical changes and alterations, the use of photography instead of printer's ink, possibilities of compression or even total change of form, can be discerned. Our present card catalogs will require intelligent direction of the highest order to make them adapt to the demands of readers and the needs of the community. Changes such as these will necessitate an intelligent and sympathetic oversight to ensure their success. The librarians who will implement and shape the development of cataloging must, therefore, have been experienced and trained catalogers. We return, thus, to our beginning, to your aim as students of library science. If you are to be effective in this field, you must be prepared to adapt and innovate in response to the evolving needs of libraries and their users.\nMinisters, you must know libraries. You must be able to work your machine, have practical knowledge of its parts. Nothing in the craft should be foreign to you, least of all the art of cataloging.\n\nTHEORY OF REFERENCE WORK\n\nOne of the commonest phenomena in the growth of a language is the unconscious development of technical phrases. Words which have a plain and ordinary meaning, universally understood and used, are given a special turn or a peculiar import in some locality or in some occupation. In a highly developed civilization in which communication is rapid and intercourse constant, such special and peculiar meanings spread quickly and become current before people are aware either of the fact or the process. Every calling and profession has its own jargon, perfectly intelligible to the initiate, though but half understood by the uninitiated.\nIn a democratic country where governmental decrees fixing nomenclature are rarely used due to the central government's lack of concern with local matters, the jargon of a trade or profession may become fixed without much attention. New phrases in our calling include the term \"reference librarian.\" I encourage the curious to trace the history of this designation in the library press and library reports, which would make an interesting subject for a study.\nseminar paper. But whatever its history, the term has arrived. I find it in half a dozen letters a day. Persons signing themselves \"reference librarian\" write from colleges and universities, from public libraries, from endowed research libraries, from state and governmental libraries. These libraries are large and small, general and special, but they all have a person styled a \"reference librarian,\" and in their reports, we find paragraphs on \"reference\" work, \"reference\" books, \"reference\" rooms, and so on.\n\nBut a study of the functions performed by these persons and in these departments leaves me with the impression that the terms are used rather loosely. The duties performed by \"reference workers\" are by no means the same in all libraries. Observation also leads me to believe that the term covers various types of library work.\nFunctions ranging from the practical control of all relations with the public in certain non-circulating libraries, down to the mere task of keeping order in a college study room. Before beginning any discussion of reference work, there is a need, even among librarians, for a certain amount of definition.\n\nReference work, as defined in this paper, is the service rendered by a librarian in aid of some sort of study. It is not the study itself \u2013 that is done by the reader. Reference work is ordinarily distinguished from circulation work in libraries, although reference work may, and often does, lead to the sort of circulation librarians profess an ardent desire to further.\n\nThe help given to a reader engaged in research of any sort is what we mean by reference work. It may be:\n\nTHEORY OF REFERENCE WORK\nReference work is of various kinds, from the most trivial, such as finding a name in a city directory, to the most elaborate, like preparing extensive lists of references, as printed by the Division of Bibliography in the Library of Congress or the New York Public Library. However, it is primarily aid given to a reader, not the performance of the reader's task. Reference work is in aid of research, but it is not research itself.\n\n\"Reference\" librarians are employees assigned to the task of assisting readers in their studies. They are the interpreters of the library to the public. The books are here on the shelves; the library's machinery (catalogs, files, and the like) is ready. Here are readers, each with their own needs. But without someone to help a little, to explain, to suggest, to direct, the process would be more difficult.\nThe right book or article does not always fall into the reader's hands. The expert and the tyro alike bring their difficulties to the man who can help them with his knowledge\u2014not of the topic, but of the machinery.\n\nTheory of Reference Work\n\nThe expert and the novice bring their difficulties to the man who can help them with his knowledge\u2014not of the topic, but of the machinery. He is not, and cannot be, an expert in many and various fields. But he does know books and library methods. He can refer people to the right place in the catalog, the proper section of the shelves; he is able to solve baffling puzzles in the way of abbreviated or incomplete titles, and he knows more than a little of what books his library owns. He is the interpreter of the library to readers, revealing not that which he himself has created, but that which has been gathered, arranged, listed, labeled, and shelved against their needs. The reference librarian has always existed. It is only of recent years that\nThe division of labor has given him a name \u2014 without his knowledge or consent, as names are usually bestowed. \"Reference books,\" too, have taken on a new and dubious meaning. Formerly, the term was restricted to works of an encyclopedic character, to dictionaries, almanacs, catalogs, cyclopaedias, and compendia. Now, in libraries, to these have been added other books placed in reading rooms with the view of keeping them there for the convenience of readers. Reference books we generally hold to mean books in the reference rooms, or reading rooms, which are not ordinarily subject to circulation. Other books to which the old definition applies and which may not be in the reference rooms still receive the old designation. Bayle's Dictionary, for example, would doubtlessly still be called a reference book.\nLess this be considered a reference book even by the ruthless modernist who consigns it to the stack and never revels in the spicy anecdotes, the keen thrusts of its heretical author. I find also (not among librarians) a disposition to term \"reference\" books any books to which reference is made in syllabi and reading lists. Time and again I have seen letters asking about \"reference\" books, which proved to be very ordinary and commonplace textbooks or monographs. To librarians, however, the term doubtless conveys its old meaning of compends for quick consultation and has come to include also such other books as experience has placed at the convenience of reference workers and readers in reading rooms.\n\nThe modern extension of this word reference is further seen in the phrases \"reference rooms\" and \"reference library.\" These are set over against.\nCirculation departments and lending libraries. Smaller libraries typically use the term \"reference room\" or \"reference department.\" Larger libraries, which subdivide their work to assist readers, are more likely to use the term \"reading rooms,\" particularly as they probably have a dozen departments for specialized research aid. A technical reading and study room, for instance, is not ordinarily referred to as a \"reference room,\" but a \"technology department.\" Reference libraries are a distinct group. Their primary function is to aid specialized and advanced research. Considering the great number of libraries and the money spent on them in America, the group is a very small one yet, but notable as it is small. There is moreover a small question as to the meaning of the word when\nApplied to them. Reference in their case spells research. Whether or not these definitions find common acceptance, there can be no question as to one fact which confronts anyone planning reference work for any particular library. Most of our libraries are open twelve to fourteen hours daily, and for a shorter period on Sunday. The average library employee is not present more than eight hours a day. Obviously, this means, save in very small libraries, a certain duplication of force and division of labor in the reference work. This at once implies a certain amount of organization and planning in its conduct. The mere assignment of a probably suitable person to the reference desk is not enough. There must be some continuity in the work, some assurance that the man coming at night will get as good service as the man who comes during the day.\nThe man who came in the morning. In other words, reference work requires a policy from the librarian, a definite plan, and means for its expected continuation. Even if it has grown on its own, its success necessitates careful analysis and a plan. We have given great attention to buying books, cataloging and classifying them, building circulation, bringing books home to the people, and providing buildings. Reference work demands the same care and thought.\n\nAnother obvious fact is that no one person can have special knowledge of the wide variety of subjects in libraries. It is almost inevitable that, even in a moderate-sized library, no one person can know everything.\nIn a large library, specialists rather than the reference librarian may best assist an inquirer. The reader is entitled to the best aid in the library's staff. Therefore, on any theory of reference work, the reference librarian is bound to provide the best service, not just their own. They are to guide the reader not only to books but also to the library's personnel resources. This principle assumes a policy on the part of the library towards reference work.\n\nThe policy will differ according to the nature of reference work.\nThe demands made on the library and the extent of its resources involve three types of inquiries in ordinary reference work. Broadly speaking, there are inquiries for historico-literary information of every kind, inquiries about present-day conditions in social and economic fields, and inquiries in special fields of knowledge, such as technical chemistry or electricity, or law. The historic (or antiquarian) demand is the most familiar and probably the most frequent in large libraries; the social (contemporary) demand is the most insistent and difficult to satisfy; the technical demand (when serious) is usually made in a technical library or by a person already trained who can handle for himself the technical books. Now, the general library is usually either strong in history, literature, and the arts, or strong in science and technology.\nThe equipment and training of reference workers in statistics, documents, and sociology should reflect the strongest side of a library's collections, at least up to the point where those collections require the services of specialists. For instance, if a library has a good collection of music that is growing rapidly due to an endowment, ultimately it will need a specialist in musical literature in charge of the collection. However, it would be folly not to have someone on the reference staff, or at least available for reference work, who knows more than a little about music and its literature. But if the reference librarian is not to absorb the knowledge of these subjects entirely, it is essential to have someone with a good foundation in these areas to provide basic assistance and guidance to patrons.\nIf a librarian at the reference desk is to properly introduce readers to the person best able to assist them, he is also required to sift inquiries. Discover and prevent those that can be answered by the World Almanac or Who's Who from bothering and annoying busy folk. We have a Semitics department at the Library of Congress. However, we have learned in the Reading Room to identify young Egyptians and Syrians who wish to read the files of our one Arabic illustrated magazine and not let them past the Reading Room desk to the Semitic Department. If a question can be handled with reasonable ease and celerity by the reference force, it should remain with them. Tact, the ability to single out the actual thing wanted.\nA good memory, knowledge of catalogs and classifications are prime requisites for a reference librarian. Additionally, an acquaintance with a field in which the library is particularly strong and has persistent demand is necessary. Experience counts for more in reference work than any other factor, especially experience in the library where the work is done. Time and again, I have seen reference workers, wise from long years of training, handle with consummate ease and success an inquiry that had baffled inexperienced folk of excellent, even superior, training. The acquaintance with the library's resources that comes from living in it, the knowledge of how similar questions were met before, and the curious ability to sense the query's underlying intent are essential.\nThe real issue at hand concerns assets that develop over time. In this paper, we will not address the practical matters of how reference librarians carry out their diverse duties. Instead, we will explore the theory of reference work, which includes the library's attitude towards it, the qualifications of those involved, and the preliminary discussion of its nature. The tools and quarters of the reference worker can also be considered part of this theory. Regardless of the size of the workforce or the nature of the work, the reference librarian requires a designated place to work and necessary tools. (I have witnessed both fundamentals being disregarded.)\n\nTo start with his tools, the entire reference collection serves as his resource for aiding patrons in a general sense.\nReaders, but it is the books and apparatus which he uses personally with great frequency that immediately concern us. These should be near at hand where they can be reached with little motion. No matter what his particular line of work is, there are sure to develop lists and bibliographies, memoranda and notes. Some sort of record is naturally kept of particularly difficult and puzzling inquiries. He will need a vertical file for all these, and if the demand for ephemeral publications on questions of the hour and the place is strong, his vertical file is likely to grow to large dimensions. He will need as many works of quick reference as he can get about him, dictionaries, indexes, compendiums of statistics, recent bibliographies, directories and so on. These are his first aids, his emergency tools.\nHis next line of help is not so often the general collection of reference books as it is the catalog of the library. If well made, it is the natural resort of the reference librarian in almost all emergencies. He probably knows it more thoroughly than anyone except the filers. It would seem almost a necessity that he not be placed far from it. Yet we have all seen reference rooms remote from the public catalog, even on separate floors. Then come the reference books in the reference room, open to readers freely, and in a peculiar sense also the tools of the reference librarian. Reference collections should be made with local ends in view. While one may with safety and wisdom foresee a demand and provide references accordingly, yet it is often the case that the most valuable references are those which are not anticipated. The catalog is an essential aid in this respect, as it enables the librarian to find and bring to the reader's notice the most appropriate and useful works, even though they may not be in the regular reference collection. The catalog should therefore be kept up-to-date and accurate, and should be arranged in a systematic and convenient manner, so as to facilitate the work of both the librarian and the reader. The reference room itself should be well lighted, quiet, and comfortable, and should be furnished with sufficient tables and chairs to accommodate the expected number of readers. The reference librarian should be courteous, patient, and knowledgeable, and should be able to give helpful advice and guidance to the readers in their use of the reference materials. In addition to the regular reference collection, the reference room should contain a good selection of current periodicals, newspapers, and other up-to-date sources of information, as well as any special or unusual reference works which may be required by the patrons. The reference librarian should also be familiar with the various research tools and techniques, and should be able to assist the readers in their use. In short, the reference room and its staff are an essential part of any well-equipped library, and are an invaluable resource for students, researchers, and anyone seeking accurate and reliable information.\nThe reference collection should primarily consist of books necessary for a specific place. Not all books valuable in large libraries will be equally useful in small town or special libraries. Duplicates should also be included, with the number determined by experience. The collection should be tailored to local needs, guided by the reference librarian's observations and knowledge of demand. Constant and drastic revision is required. These are the tools of the trade. Principles for housing them cannot be detailed, but mention can be made of the following. The reference collection\nRoom must be near the public catalog; it should not be remote from the book stacks. There should be (even in small libraries) some provision for privacy of consultation when necessary. It is extremely difficult to have no place to take an embarrassed inquirer, no place to consult on what may be very important matters other than the open reference room. Some study rooms where groups can work adjacent to the main reference room seem also necessary. Debaters and clubs we are likely to have with us for theory OE reference work for some time to come. Assuming then that we are agreed that reference work is organized effort on the part of libraries in aid of the most expeditious and fruitful use of their books, under comfortable housing conditions, we may safely organize reference work in this manner.\nHave we fully explored the possibilities and reached the limits of these books in our libraries? Are we doing all that can be properly done to utilize them to their fullest potential? Isn't it true that the community can benefit not only from rich collections and carefully selected libraries, but also from the trained and organized force that interprets them? Shouldn't we abandon the passive attitude and create demands instead of merely responding politely? Consider, for instance, the attitude of a so-called \"special\" library towards its clients. Due to their high intelligence in some specific field and keen interest in the literature of their calling, these clients demand and expect more than just the existence of such libraries.\nA high-grade service is required within that field, a service which generally sets no limits of time or effort on behalf of its readers. Zeal in such a library does not degenerate into officiousness, nor does proper reserve become indifference. The librarians of a scientific laboratory, an insurance company, or a research institute know their limited clientele, anticipate their wants, respond to their calls, and serve intelligently, and therefore successfully.\n\nEven so, general libraries may perhaps establish a relation of intimacy with at least certain sections or classes of their larger community. By a study of its component parts and social organization, helpful aid has already been found in many cities for many classes of readers who ordinarily come but seldom to any library. Such a study of a town or city.\nEvery librarian in a city supposedly considers various aspects of book selection in a general way. However, reference workers in large and small public libraries have a special obligation to consider not only the daily demands that custom and training bring to their desks, but also the latent opportunities for usefulness that often go unnoticed. Why purchase certain classes of books? Why maintain other classes? Who can utilize this type, and who that? Why not develop a certain subject for a specific need, even if it is unvoiced? Why not invest energy in the study of a book's possible and actual use, rather than solely focusing on selecting fiction and reading reviews? In essence, why not intelligently and successfully exploit the non-recreational side of library work? Build up stores of books for future needs. Gather ephemeral material for the day.\nThe possibilities of reference work in reference libraries are, I believe, barely seen as yet. Judging from our foremost examples, one might say that the keynote is specialization, either by way of departments within a general library, such as the New York Public Library, or by limiting the field of the library itself, as in the John Crerar Library or the John Carter Brown Library. But specialization means planning for the student, the investigator, just as much as for the librarian assigned to the care of a department. It means a policy of acquisition in special fields, a development of a special clientele, a specialized service which can create a demand as well as supply one. The mere library specialist, who sits in a room and gathers books about him, performs a service of a certain sort, it is true. But the specialist in American history, for instance, creates a demand for his services through his expertise and knowledge.\nhistory is recorded in prints, maps, music, physics, law, statistics, and keeps men of his kind informed throughout the world. These men know them and what is going on, contributing their mite and bringing them eagerly about them. We have such men, and we will have more of them as our libraries grow. They are alive and the true reference workers, whatever their official nomenclature.\n\nThe general \"reference librarian,\" the man compelled to be all things to all men, who spends his days opening up the library's books to the miscellaneous public, what of him? He sends the interesting inquiry to the specialist. He passes on the interesting man to another head of department.\nThe text helps generations of students in high schools, colleges, normal schools, and technical schools. He assists the hurried newspaper man hunting desperately for a portrait or biography of someone who has suddenly gained fame between editions. He sets the aspiring Daughter of the American Revolution on the track of a new bar. Here he averts a difficulty, there he smooths down an irate reader with too often a just grievance. He is an interpreter, revealing to inquirers what the library has. He is a lubricant, making the wheels run noiselessly and well. Little glory and less reputation accrue to him. He counts his days' work done well, but sees no tally of so many thousand books bought or other thousands cataloged. At his best, scholars use him, like him, thank him. At his lowest ebb, no one considers him save as a useful part of the machine.\nThis is the theory of his work: service, quiet, self-effacing, but not passive or unheeding. To make books useful and more used, this is his aim. This aim and this theory are alike honored in any gathering of librarians.\n\nLeadership Through Learning\n\nThis is the commencement season. For the past three weeks, thousands of young people have assembled for their final exercises in school and college and university. Hundreds of commencement orations, some fervent or quiet, hortatory or reflective, have been addressed to fond parents and their graduating offspring, while teachers and professors have listened with a touch of wearied reminiscence to well-worn truths, lofty aspirations, and solemn admonitions. Diverse as these addresses have been, different in quality, manner, and topic, it is probably safe to say that one reflection, regardless of the specific content of each speech, resonated with all.\nOne phrase has been absent from none of them. Whatever his theme, whatever his purpose, it is a poor commencement orator who does not at some moment of his discourse address the graduates as \"the future leaders of the community.\" Nay, more, it is on this postulate of future leadership that most of the solemn warning of responsibility and the ardent exhortation to serious use of training and of the fruits of study is grounded. To the coming leaders of thought and action does the commencement orator appeal. Not to those who will prove average American citizens or commonplace voters and toilers are his eloquent periods addressed. They are, so generations have been told, the choice spirits who shall lead.\n\nBulletin of the American Library Association, July, 1916.\nLeadership Through Learning.\nThe hosts will lead, guide the republic, mold the destinies of yet unborn nations. With what sardonic inward grins and grimaces do old and worldly-wise teachers listen to these familiar phrases? In how many audiences have the real powers that be, snatching a hasty hour from business in deference to paternal interest or maternal pride, instinctively muttered derisive comments on the foolishness of the wise men? For both sorts \u2013 the veteran teacher and the real leader of men \u2013 diverse as are their aims and their outlook on life \u2013 know by bitter experience that while many are called, few are chosen. A generation hence, it may well be true \u2013 and probably will be \u2013 that our leaders are mainly school and college bred. It is not so now, nor has it ever been so in the history of this republic. While our universities count their presidents and their distinctions,\nDistinguished senators and representatives were scored hundreds of times, yet there have been countless equals in power and influence who knew no academic halls or scholastic training \u2013 not to mention the men in the background who made them all presidents, senators, and representatives. While our technical schools have produced great engineers, railroad builders, and masters of industry, it is not from them that men like Harriman, Westinghouse, Carnegie, Rockefeller, Ford, and Edison graduated. What man can run through the list of those who have truly led thought and action in our country from its beginnings on this shore to its achievements on the Pacific and affirm that scholastic training produced all these leaders? Some of them it did produce \u2013 and we may thank God for them \u2013 but Jefferson, Hamilton, for instance, were exceptions.\nThe Adamses, Madison, Webster, Sumner, Roosevelt, and Wilson attended colleges that boast such alumni. However, Washington, Marshall, Clay, Jackson, and Lincoln are not among them. It is also untrue that the majority of school and college graduates become leaders of men. Why is this so? We all agree that the education received in college and professional school leaves a stamp of quality and fineness on men and women. We are convinced beyond possibility of doubt that the attainment of certain valued and almost vital attributes is generally so difficult without formal education as to be almost impossible. Even those very men who by reason of native force and ability, by sheer pluck and unending toil, have reached posts of leadership and large usefulness without formal education are, as a rule, most anxious that their sons and daughters shall have the very training.\nThey have lacked. None of us belittles or derides formal training; least of all the librarian of a university.\n\nLEADERSHIP THROUGH LEARNING\n\nBut if there be this gap between expectation and result, if our colleges and schools do not train leaders as such, where are our leaders trained, and what school produces them? We are, said Mr. Lowell, \"the most common-schooled people on earth\" \u2014 \"and,\" he added, \"the least educated.\" His observation will not always be true, but there is still ample justification for it. It is the school of experience, the laboratory of business, the seminar of competition that produce the real leaders of opinion and action. And in our universities, it is probably contact with his fellows that brings into consciousness a man\u2019s qualities of leadership rather than instruction in classes and lecture rooms. One of President\nWilson's keenest observation on university life was his dictum that as much education goes on between the hours of 4 p.m. and 8 a.m. as between 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. It is a common observation that the leaders of student opinion and action are seldom of the first-rank class. The intense specialization of our day in all our universities undoubtedly contributes to this failure to develop qualities of leadership. Few undergraduates\u2014or graduate students, for that matter\u2014combine high attainments in one field with a comprehensive grasp of many fields, or unite scholarship with an ability to meet many men on terms of equality and intelligence.\n\nLeadership Through Learning\n\nAnd yet no lasting and effective leadership is found which is not based on knowledge. A moment's reflection reveals that this is true.\nThe elemental truth, proven by reflection, is undeniable. Consider our own American Literature Association (A.L.A.). We've had distinguished leaders, many of whom we rightfully take pride in \u2013 Cutter, Winsor, Poole, Thwaites, Larned, Spofford, Billings. These men, and those like them, possessed a unique blend of profound knowledge of their profession and the ability to apply it effectively. Such individuals rise to the top in almost every field. Even in the realm of politics, notoriously challenging for scholars, it is the knowledgeable and effective leader who commands followers and achieves results. Leadership is essential.\nA combination of certain personal qualities, sheer ability, and knowledge are essential for distinction, honor, and power in every walk of life. Political philosophers have always been doubtful about leadership in a democracy. With the foundations of the social structure seemingly rent and torn, half the world engaged in deadly strife, and both alarmists and pacifists shouting discordant cries, heads are shaken and beards wagged over the sad state of this republic, bereft of sane leadership and dependent on the whim of erratic mobs. We have, say these gloomy philosophers, no hereditary leaders to guide us.\nWe have no divinely appointed rulers or ruling class. We lack a leading class and even great families with a tradition of honorable and effective state service. Instead, we are governed by a host of unintelligent and ignorant citizens with the power to vote but no other assets for governing. Our geographical isolation has so far preserved us from destruction. This is the lament of modern critics, a numerous crew, bemoaning our lack of an aristocracy, hereditary leaders, and trained governors.\n\nThe situation is serious enough without the groans of the calamity howler. On all sides, we face challenges.\nsee we face new problems, both internal and external. Our old world is changing rapidly, and it is entirely likely that the next thirty years will not be a comfortable period for any people. In the United States, the frontier period is definitively closed, despite the fact that its needs and conditions are reflected in the great body of our public institutions and laws. It is perfectly patent, though not always perceived in Washington, that the old-fashioned political thinker and his mental and moral machinery are outdated and doomed. The man who shouts for the Old Flag \u2014 and the post-offices \u2014 is not the sort of twentieth-century constituency most keen to return to office. In fact, I think it may be safely said, it is exactly in times of emergency both internal and external that such leaders are least effective.\nThe people instinctively turn for leadership to men who know and can efficiently lead. Knowledge, efficiency, and character become vastly attractive in times of stress and strain. The leadership a democracy will require \u2013 and will get \u2013 in times ahead is not demagoguery or chauvinism. These have their day \u2013 and unfortunately, it is sometimes a long one. But with the need, there arise the men to meet it, and they will be men of practical learning who can unite the best thought of the past with a keen perception of the present. They will be men of vision \u2013 but not visionaries, scholars \u2013 but not scholastics. The man who knows and can apply his knowledge is the sort of leader American society needs at present, and will need vastly more in the future.\nWe need him in business, the professions, politics, industry, military, and civil service. Sound learning and the ability to use it must form the basis of leadership in the present world. It takes only a glance at the frightful struggle in Europe to see that the man who knows, who can use his knowledge, and who can be trusted has come to the fore in the relentless sifting of war. Even so, will our own problems - less dreadful, if not less pressing - demand and secure a leadership based on the three fundamentals: learning, skill, character.\n\nWell, supposing that all this is true, what has it to do with libraries and librarians? Grant the thesis - and you do not all grant it, I am sure - what place has it on the program of the ALA? The topic: \"Leadership Through Learning.\"\nA librarian of distinction likely possesses vital applications to our work. We cannot forecast future librarians along any other lines than those indicated. The successful librarian leader must combine an intimate and minute knowledge of library processes and details with the ability to put that knowledge to efficient practical use. As librarians, we have a three-fold duty: to gather and conserve material (books), to arrange it to serve the needs of our generation (classification and catalog), and to exploit it to the best interest of the community (service). No division of our calling can be conceived apart from learning, skill, and character. Primarily, it is his learning that gives distinction to a librarian's other qualities.\nIn fact, it is a fair question in the present state of the world's knowledge whether it is possible to conceive of any extensive and deep learning apart from books in libraries. So closely is the actual knowledge of the present woven with the record of each science and art, that it is impossible, as a rule, to say, \"On this side lies the past with its error and its truth, and on that the reality as men see it today.\" In few, if any, lines of work is learning divorced from books. The physical and natural sciences, the applied sciences and technology seek in books the record of their progress. Without that record (largely in journals, to be sure), they must depend on memory and tradition for a feeble and groping advance. It is almost impossible to conceive nowadays any branch of knowledge which is not based on the recorded progress of the past.\nThe past, whether distant or very recent, no science, no discipline, no branch of learning flourishes for long aside and apart from its record in books. The laboratory and the factory demand the library as truly and persistently as does the historian\u2019s study or the philosopher\u2019s cabinet. The practical arts of life, the daily work of the world, are also, to a lesser extent indeed, dependent more and more in our complex social organization on recorded knowledge. Preeminence in LEADERSHIP through LEARNING almost any field is more and more an ability to put book-learning to vital and practical use. To cite but one example from the hideous conflict in Europe; the change which has come over warfare because of the development of artillery. Can you conceive the makers of these dread modern engines of destruction?\nCreating them without a knowledge of mathematical ballistics, metallurgical chemistry, the proper properties of high explosives, and a host of intensely technical subjects? And where did they get this knowledge which has enabled ships to destroy other ships below the horizon line? From the records in books of each successive step in these various and manifold sciences.\n\nIf, then, leadership is conditioned by knowledge, and knowledge largely by the variety, extent, and availability of books, we may well pause to reflect a while on the competence of American libraries regarding their books. Is our democracy furnished as it should be to aid the man who aspires to leadership through his knowledge? How far are our resources adequate to the demands now actually made on them, and likely soon to be made even more insistently?\nI shall not inquire as to our willingness to make our material available, our efficiency in arranging it, or our power and desire to advertise. But do we have the goods? Can American science, art, philosophy, criticism, history, literature find in any (or all) our libraries their needed and indeed vital food? Here is a question we may well ask ourselves in an honest spirit of searching inquiry. How well is your library equipped to serve the real leaders of your community? We are not to ask ourselves whether we do a good work or a useful work, but can we do a vital work for our day? Can we supply the man who knows with the means of broadening and deepening his knowledge? Do we own the books we should? In general, we do not. We have hosts of libraries throughout this land. We have many large libraries.\nWe have a few large libraries, but we do not yet have anything approaching the completeness of the British Museum or the Bibliotheque Nationale. Dr. Richardson's survey of our scientific journal ownership, presented at the Atlanta Conference in 1899, would require great revision and restatement if made at the present day. Granted all the magnificent progress of these seventeen years \u2013 for it has been magnificent \u2013 a survey of the same or related fields would show no startling gains over the situation in 1899. Only fair progress has been made in supplying our fundamental needs in the sciences, considering the country as a whole. We have some splendid examples of specialization \u2013 the Surgeon-General's Library, the John Crerar Library, the John Carter Brown Library, the United Engineering Societies Library in New York, and the Wisconsin Library.\nLeadership through Learning\n\nHistorical Society's Library, and others, which you will find particularly in highly technical fields such as law and chemistry. But not even the libraries maintained by the Federal Government have yet reached the point of saturation (if I may be allowed the figure) in their respective fields. Our American scientists, technicians, historians, economists, jurists have not, at their command, even with our present development of inter-library loans, resources equal to those of their British, French, German, and Austrian colleagues. We have a splendid beginning, but it is only a beginning. We sorely need to study cooperative buying and cooperative use. We must work together and not at random or at cross-purposes if we are to put American libraries in a full state of preparedness to serve American leaders.\nThe eminence of the Library of Congress, New York Public Library, Harvard University Library, Boston Public Library, and Yale University Library, among others, necessitates our collective effort to ensure no scholar is hindered in their work due to the absence from these United States of required books. At this point, I may enter a caveat. No one should assume I disregard or undervalue the service of our libraries beyond the purely informational or scholastic side. This is not the place, nor am I perhaps the man, to pay tribute to the devoted labors of those who have brought libraries into being throughout this land.\nWe are not now discussing the value to our people of the stores of poetry, fiction, literature, and art which our libraries are supplying to an ever-widening clientele. The worth and value of recreational reading no one feels more keenly than I. If our libraries served no other purpose, they would still have an ample excuse for being in their function of providing good, wholesome, attractive, inspiring books for their communities. Incidentally, it may be remarked that frequently the lack of such food for the soul in libraries of the learned type is one of their greatest weaknesses.\n\nAre we competent on the side of service? In general, we are. Nowhere in the world is the scholar less hampered by rule or petty regulation, less hindered by imperfect or wanting records, more helped by specially trained librarians. We have developed a system.\nThe professional spirit of librarianship is notable, characterized by a commitment to service. This spirit is evident in all our gatherings, schools, and libraries. Despite individual issues with facility use, poor catalogs, or inadequate arrangements, the American librarian has demonstrated technical efficiency and a public spirit, earning community recognition. I make no claim to self-praise when asserting that we are prepared to provide genuine and vital assistance to research and learning.\nWe are seeking to find out the actual needs of our communities and constituencies, to bring the library home to them, to render not only a willing and competent, but an intelligent and sympathetic service. But such generalizations seldom carry conviction. They represent at best an opinion, and give but small measure of the grounds on which judgment has been reached. Consider, however, the actual facts revealed by a few experiences. Certain members of a committee appointed to survey the scientific and practical work of the Department of Agriculture declared to me a few months ago that, notwithstanding the existence of the splendid library facilities of Washington, not the least of which is the Library of that Department, notwithstanding all that well-known bibliographic work which has been done, they still found it difficult to obtain the information they needed. This was especially true in the case of the latest and most advanced scientific literature, which was not yet included in the catalogues or indexes of the Library. These members were not alone in their experience. Similar complaints have been heard from other quarters, and it is a significant fact that the demand for interlibrary loans from the Library of Congress has been steadily increasing. These facts suggest that there is a real need for a more effective means of making the literature of the Department of Agriculture available to those who require it.\nThe scientists in applied botany and zoology in various bureaus of the Department were in need of vital books for satisfactory work, yet they were worse off than their colleagues in England, France, and Germany. The United States government should spend a hundred thousand dollars a year for five years to provide these scientists with the necessary books, asserted these gentlemen. No one would accuse them of being visionaries and dreamers in the government service. The man most emphatic in voicing the demand for more books introduced the cultivation of the date palm in America.\nIn the desert country of the Southwest, palm cultivation has brought high-priced Egyptian cotton to successful commercial growth on irrigated lands in Arizona. The yield was five bales a few years ago, but last year surpassed one million. This has contributed to the benefit of the country native and cultivated fruits from regions as far apart as China and the Sahara desert. When such men tell me they cannot do their work well because we do not have the necessary books in this country - or librarians cannot find them for them - I feel it is up to us to take notice.\n\nMost of you are familiar with the efforts made some years ago by a committee of the American Historical Association to locate in our libraries fundamental collections of European historical sources.\n\nLEADERSHIP THROUGH LEARNING\nThe prosperity of a country and the quality of its leadership are unlikely to be dependent on a sufficient supply of monumental works. But how can we divorce institutions, politics, and government from their origins and the long story of their growth? Without these sources, how can we train historians or aid them in their development? Are we not heirs to European life and culture? In this complex of nationalities that we call the United States, can we afford to be without the record of any and all European nationalities? No library - save perhaps Harvard - was shown to have even a working majority of the sources of European history when this inquiry began. The resulting purchases alone have justified Dr. Richardson\u2019s undertaking.\nA young American scholar presented an illuminating paper on the sources of Slavic bibliography at the Bibliographical Society meeting in Chicago last winter. The scholar revealed the checkered and painful history of bibliographic labor in Russia, Poland, Croatia, Bohemia, and other countries. I asked the librarian of a large university, \"How many of those titles do you suppose you have in your library?\" The answer was, \"Perhaps five percent.\" Michigan did not have even that many, despite our notable collection of bibliographies, which we had been proud of. With over 250,000 people of Slavic origin in Michigan, comment is unnecessary.\nTake the case of the chemical industries as another example. If there is any one branch of science well covered by American libraries, chemical technology is probably that one. And yet, an expert in just one branch of metallurgical chemistry, a scientist who was also an expert bibliographer, had to work in half a dozen different cities, resorting continually to inter-library loans, before he could secure for abstracting the greater portion of his references on vanadium alone. Even then, he had in reserve enough references to justify a trip to Europe at the expense of his employers. The great chemical industries of Detroit are writing to us almost weekly inquiring about journals of which we can get no track in our card and other bibliographies. The very fact that we can get them so much more easily makes them irritable.\nWhen we have to tell them we don't know where a set can be found, I might go on, and any other librarian here might do the same, by showing field after field in which the existing and recorded literature of value is not well covered in our American libraries. In the very nature of things, it cannot be otherwise at present. We are, after all, a young people. Our libraries are not old \u2013 as men count age in Asia and Europe. What I have just said but lends emphasis and point to those oft-repeated injunctions of previous conferences. We must cooperate in service to bring out the full power of what we have. We must cooperate in buying to make our money count for the most. We must help each other by every bibliographic device we can invent. We must organize for mutual service of our communities. If leadership through learning means effective use of resources, then these are the ways we must lead.\nAnything on us in large measure rests the burden of providing the means of learning. If the man who knows needs to increase his knowledge \u2014 as he always will \u2014 we must not fail him. We must have the books for him. How we shall bring him and the books together is another story.\n\nChanging Ideals in Librarianship1*2\n\nEvery once in a while, we hear someone \u2014 usually a very youthful person \u2014 making slighting remarks to the disparagement of the \"old-fashioned librarian.\" This phrase is generally coupled with some uncivil allusion to his supposed function as a \"keeper\" of books. It is not uncommonly also, the introduction to certain highly laudatory reflections on the extent to which we have changed all that. I often wonder whether these folk who so glibly relegate the old-fashioned librarian to the limbo of outworn ideals.\nEver stopped to think what their own chances for employment in modern libraries would be today, had it not been for the devoted labors of these \"old-fashioned\" folk who literally made possible modern library development? These \"old-fashioned\" librarians included such men as Ainsworth Rand Spofford, Justin Winsor, Josephus Nelson Larned, William Frederick Poole, Charles Ammi Cutter, Charles C. Jewett, J. G. Cogswell, Anthony Panizzi, Richard Garnett, Henry Bradshaw, and a score of others I might mention. Happy indeed the generation which can claim such leaders! Well may we honor them today! They set a standard which won the reverence and respect of the world of letters.\n\n(Note: The text provided does not contain any significant OCR errors or meaningless content that needs to be removed. The only formatting adjustments made were to remove the publication information and the line breaks between paragraphs.)\nThey  made  the  name  of  librarian  honored  and  revered \nin  places  where  his  position  had  been  held  somewhat \nabove  a  mere  clerkship,  somewhat  lower  than  a  school\u00ac \nmaster\u2019s  post.  As  \u201cmodern\u201d  librarians,  with  our  faces \nset  toward  the  possibilities  of  what  we  conceive  to  be \na  true  service  to  society,  we  may  well  pause  to  pay \ntribute  to  their  memory,  and  to  inquire  a  moment \nas  to  their  distinguishing  traits. \nWhat  strikes  one  first  in  studying  the  lives  of  these \nmen  of  the  generation  which  passed  off  the  stage  of \nlibrary  work  about  1900  (or  a  little  earlier)  is  that \nthey  were  one  and  all  collectors  of  rare  skill.  They \nall  seem  to  have  had  an  instinctive  sense  of  book \nvalues,  an  eye  for  treasures,  a  scent  for  the  perma\u00ac \nnently  useful  work.  The  libraries  which  they  headed \nwere  in  most  cases  actually  brought  together,  built  up, \nstrengthened,  by  their  own  labors.  How  many, \nMany times at the Library of Congress, I have echoed my chief's sentiment: \"It's useless gleaning after Dr. Spofford!\" I found that his keen instinct brought books to the Library of Congress that scholars sought decades later. The Astor, Lenox, Boston Athenaeum, Boston Public Library, Library of Congress, Buffalo Library were, in the old days, real libraries\u2014not buildings almost empty of books with high-sounding dedicatory inscriptions and the names of great authors across their fronts but few of their works inside\u2014but collections of strong and valuable books. The present eminence of two of those I have named, the consolidated New York Public Library and the Library of Congress, is due not to their palatial structures.\nThe successful librarian, according to a somewhat apocryphal saying attributed to Dr. Poole, must be a good buyer, a good beggar, and occasionally a good thief. These men of the later nineteenth century, though seeming remote from our day due to our fast-paced progress, were generally good conservators. They took good care of good things and understood the difference between an original New England Primer, Poor Richard's Almanac, or Shakespeare quarto, and the modern reprint or text-edition. However, they took too good care of their treasures at times.\nFor the convenience of the man in a hurry or the busy reporter. But I observe that their libraries still own these same treasures and are holding on to them with a firmness in no way different from that of old. Perhaps they made all books a little hard to get at in their zeal to save their valuable ones. However, the structural materials available in their day, the types of buildings, and the physical limitations and dangers imposed by mill construction, wooden cases, non-fireproof rooms, and old-fashioned safes were fully as much to blame as the spirit of the librarian. Few people in library work realize the part which electric light, structural and sheet steel, electric elevators, heavy plate glass, and the like have played in revolutionizing library methods. Much.\nOur modern theory and practice are largely due to the engineer and inventor rather than the librarian. In fact, many things we do daily and hourly, our predecessors could not do for lack of the means \u2013 telephone, for instance. The old-fashioned librarian of any distinction was preeminently scholarly in his tastes and habits. His equipment was usually such as to win the respect of the best minds in his community. He could not conceive of what I sometimes hear called the \u201clibrary business.\u201d His attitude was distinctly that of the man of learning and attainments. Need I call the roll again to prove that the leaders in the past generation were men not of scholarship merely, but of productive scholarship as well? Even those who confined themselves more particularly to librarianship were productive.\nOur greatest perils include the exaltation of executive ability over scholarly attainment. Our greatest needs are the development of scholarly executives - men who can direct great libraries in the modern spirit of community service, yet remain in sympathetic touch with the world of letters and productive research. Without such sympathies and abilities, librarianship will surely degenerate into the common mold of \"big business.\" American libraries, bereft of the tinge of humane letters, are a prospect we may well shudder to consider. The duty and the high responsibility fall upon you who are younger in the practice of our calling.\nBut I have not yet exhausted the list of enviable characteristics of our old-fashioned librarians of distinction. Most of them showed unselfish devotion to their work and high professional pride in their calling. I could fill the remainder of this hour with anecdotes showing both these traits. But let me at least pause long enough to read you the beautiful lines which Herbert Putnam wrote on the death of Ainsworth Rand Spofford in 1908:\n\nThe Epilogue\nHe toiled long, well, and with good cheer,\nIn the Service of Others,\nGiving his Whole, Asking little,\nEnduring patiently, Complaining not at all,\nWith small Means, Effecting Much.\nHe had no strength that was not useful\nNo weakness that was not lovable\nNo aim that was not worthy\nNo motive that was not pure\nEver he bent\nHis eye upon the task undone\nEver he bent\nHis soul upon the stars\nHis heart upon the sun\nBravely he met his test\nRichly he earned his rest\nWhat nobler tribute has any librarian had \u2013 or deserved?\nIt is, of course, true that professional success in any line of work is never reached without devotion and wholesome pride. But when I recall the public spirit which inaugurated and carried through the various cooperative efforts of American librarians, the unselfish and lasting love for the work which inspired men of high attainment to long and tedious labor without hope of personal reward, when I remember the willingness to aid other librarians, the spirit of cooperation and unity which prevailed \u2013 what nobler tribute could any librarian have had or deserved?\nThe spirit of mutual helpfulness, a long-dominant note in our profession, I congratulate you and the ranks of American librarians on your entrance into this heritage. More than the collector's skill or the custodian's zeal, more than scholarship or learning, more than public esteem or high honor, is that spirit of high consecration to our calling and of willingness to serve one another gladly which forms its best traditions. It was well and truly said of old: \"Other men have labored, and you are entered into their labors.\"\n\nBut highly as we may think of our leaders of an earlier generation, greatly as we should and do esteem their ideals and their traditions of professional attainment, it remains true that their labors and aims were directed as a rule to but one portion of the community.\nThe community consisted of scholars, research workers, men of cultivated tastes, students (young or old), and bookish folk. Libraries served their needs, focusing on learning and its devotees, regarding books as tools for instruction and recreation. However, a few years later, there was a revolution in the perception of library users and the library's duty to the community as a whole.\n\nWe have \"changed all that.\" The library, whether we like it or not, has become socialized in its aims.\nThe New York Public Library's practice has strayed from James Lenox's expectations. Its directors have ventured into the highways and byways, compelling folk to come in. The New York Public Library's work today would appear to James Lenox a far cry from the uses he anticipated for his endowments. However, I believe he would rejoice greatly in it, had he seen it in the full sweep of its noble service to the city he loved so well. Without delving into its historical development or tracing the steps by which the old-fashioned library of 1850 transformed into the modern public library, we may benefit from a brief survey of the current library situation.\n\nFirst and foremost, we observe the significant increase in public libraries, both in their number and size. In 1850, there were but few public libraries, in the modern sense, to be found in our country.\nIn the country, nearly every significant city now possesses a library. Notably, some of our libraries hold an immense collection of volumes. Over one hundred libraries exceed two hundred thousand volumes, and we have a growing number of libraries in the million class, such as the Library of Congress and the New York Public Library, each surpassing two million volumes. Harvard and the Boston Public Library hold a million and a half volumes each, while Brooklyn and Yale belong to the millionaire class. There are likely others that have reached this rank more rapidly than figures can be compiled and published. Alongside this expansion of large libraries, the public library has significantly spread throughout the entire country. In total, there are vastly more books in small libraries in the United States than in the large ones.\nThe distinctly American feature in the library \"movement\" is the small town or city library. Nowhere else is there anything quite similar. Big libraries are pretty much alike worldwide. However, our small American libraries are a class apart, and a very large one, too.\n\nIn fact, I have often found that European librarians had no conception of the function in our communities of the smaller public libraries. Collections of ten, twenty, thirty, fifty thousand volumes in small cities and large towns, tax-supported, reaching many aspects of town life, contributing to the working efficiency of democratic communities, are as hard for, say, our French colleagues to understand, as are their more purely museum or research libraries strange to many American librarians, accustomed to a more popular approach.\nThe service is just this element in our American library gatherings, eager, helpful, full of plans for improvement, uplift, and reaching folk with books and papers. The service of the people\u2014all the people\u2014of the town and county with books, through the medium of the public library, is the goal\u2014more or less well attained\u2014of our town libraries. This effort knows little\u2014perhaps too little\u2014of the scholar\u2019s labors. Its speeches and papers do not smell offensively of the lamp, as Aeschines said of Demosthenes\u2019 orations. But they do bear witness to a spirit of service which is the best trait of smaller American libraries. When all is said and done, these libraries form our distinctively American type; they are wholesome.\nUseful, alive, and inspiring. They are our contribution to popular education, following in the wake of the public school, and, like the school, capable of immense improvement and social service. We should rejoice in them \u2013 even with all their limitations \u2013 for faulty service is more eloquent of future good than no service at all. Whatever may be said by pessimists in the profession or out of it, to the discredit of our small American libraries, they are at least very much alive.\n\nParalleling this spread of the small library over the country has been the growth of the branch library idea in cities. I remember well visiting a branch library for the first time in Cleveland in 1896. Had I been a prophet, or the son of a prophet, I might have foretold how branch libraries would dot the maps of our large cities.\ncities while delivery stations and the like would surpass any and all predictions of library development. Not only large cities but small towns now have branches. Every effort is being made with a well-defined purpose to bring books home to people, to afford convenient service, to give (as Life might say) no man, woman or child a chance to escape the book.\n\nWith this physical development - and that has cost millions upon millions of taxpayers\u2019 money, helped out by Mr. Carnegie, to be sure - comes a conscious effort at exploitation. This effort, on its best side, is magnificent in its possibilities for increased and increasing usefulness. The modern idea is to seek out every potential user.\nLibrarians are dedicated to providing all the work books can do when guided by sympathetic and intelligent individuals. This conscious effort to bring good books to serve mankind has led to numerous modern library services, such as work with children, schools, clubs, highly organized reference work, extension work, traveling libraries, and more. In essence, we librarians believe that all printed matter is within our domain \u2013 not just literature in the old sense \u2013 and it is our responsibility to get these materials into the hands of those who can benefit from them, whether they are aware of it or not. This deep-rooted belief fuels the current advocacy for publicity and advertising.\nIt is a wholesome and legitimate conviction. Books and printed materials are valuable and should be known to thousands who lack their assistance. But, remembering our origins and whose heirs we are, I urge you by all you hold dear not to advertise until you are certain of your wares. Be certain \u2014 to use modern slang \u2014 you \"have the goods\" before you push them into the light of \"pitiless publicity.\" It is perhaps not without significance that some of the most zealous advocates of advertising for libraries come from libraries notoriously ill-equipped for service.\n\nAnother aspect of this conviction of the universal value of printed materials is the growth of so-called \"special\" libraries. Businessmen have found that\nProfessional men, including engineers, doctors, lawyers, insurance men, bankers, and manufacturers, have an hourly need for information found only in print. They are now building their own libraries and organizing them on modern lines, even as movies have stolen the best actresses from legitimate drama. This movement, which has always existed, is only in its infancy. We will see print (not necessarily books) in the service of business and the professions to an unprecedented degree. We see it even now in the service of legislation, as no one fifteen years ago supposed possible. This development means more\u2014and better\u2014librarians.\n\nContemporaneously, there has come a standardization of library technique. If you learn how to do any library process in one place, you can generally do it elsewhere.\nThis was not true even twenty years ago. The common remark about library school graduates in the days when they were few was \"You have to teach them first to unlearn most of the things they have learned in library school.\" That day is past, although our library schools have yet much to learn about both teaching and librarianship. There has come about a great amount of centralization of library work. The Library of Congress and the American Library Association are now doing all sorts of things for all the libraries which twenty years ago each one did \u2014 more or less well \u2014 for itself. We are gradually, but surely, developing a body of library doctrine which can be taught, and which all novices will be required to learn. To this result, moreover, we are adding the professionalization of librarianship.\nThe library schools have significantly contributed. Summing up our survey: This is a day of thoughtful library planning, where we aim to utilize all our plant and make it count all the time. It is a day when the use of even ephemeral material - clippings, pamphlets, leaflets, broadsides, pictures - is being organized and made a part of regular library work as truly as ever were solid folios and stout quartos. It is a day of large libraries in every city, and large libraries largely made up of small collections. The countryside will soon have its books, as well as the town and the city. Every school, every club, every church, and almost every factory and shop will soon have its small, special collection, the larger ones with trained librarians.\nThe book-using art is bound to grow, and our ability to lead and direct its growth will be the measure of our ability to rise to our opportunity. This enormous growth has not come without grave consequences. In fact, it is not too much to say that we stand at a crisis in library affairs. There is a very real conflict between quality and quantity, between loyalty to our professional ideals and what we know to be good service, and the pressure of an ever-increasing demand. Never have we seen so many things to be done or felt so keenly our own call to serve. There is a disquieting disposition to spread our energies over too great a number of things, to take on too much work, and to advertise far beyond our ability to perform. It is a conflict that demands our attention and resolution.\nThe very insidious temptation assails the heads of small libraries more subtly than their colleagues with greater and heavier demands and resources. In fact, if I were disposed to play the role of an unfriendly critic \u2013 which I am not \u2013 I think I should have to say that as a profession we have not successfully resisted this temptation, this pressure to expand beyond our powers of faithful and efficient performance. In one sense, mediocrity may be said to be the key to the library situation in America at the present day. We have few really strong libraries, few very fine collections, few wonderfully expert librarians. We have numbers \u2013 large numbers \u2013 of fair buildings, fairly good collections, moderately successful librarians and assistants. This state of affairs is balanced to a great extent by our spirit of service, by our dedication to our communities.\nThe technique for keeping idealis in librarianship standardized, by our endeavor to keep abreast of the best thought in the profession. However, unpleasant facts persist: the demand for extension in library branches has hindered the development of strong, well-equipped central libraries; the need for various new tasks has drawn off numerous capable people from regular library services; the supply of trained librarians does not meet the demand. There is a regrettable tendency to imitate in service, and most alarmingly, there is a significant shortage of good books in many new lines of publication. The trash being published today on various business phases and making its way to library shelves is but one example of this tendency towards mediocrity \u2014 and worse \u2014 which I deplore.\nRegrettably speaking, there is no doubt about the fact - quantity lords it over quality in too many phases of our work today. I, then, in view of all I have just said, venture on some seasonable advice to my younger colleagues. Before everything, let no man deceive you by saying that this is a day of great movements, of blind forces beyond the individual\u2019s power to control. It is not so. No man can escape his age. But in no age or time has personality counted as it does now. We come back to the man, to the woman, every time. Here in all this welter of the modern complex is your chance, your own chance, to make yourself count. One of your greatest assets will be an ability to say \"No\" - and to say it very loud and clear. The peculiar temptation of women librarians seems to be to:\n\nCHANGING IDEALS IN LIBRARIANSHIP (199)\n\n\"No,\" and to say it very loudly and clearly.\nTake on more than they can carry out. As Kipling once said, they are \"over-engined for their beam.\" Poise in library work, as in all other work, comes from a serene self-knowledge, and that includes a knowledge of one's limitations as well as of one's possibilities.\n\nYou will not succeed unless you do one thing supremely well. It is perhaps too early to say what that may be. But remember, the future in library work is one of specialization within the profession. When you find a line which you follow with ease, with pleasure, with eagerness, stick to following it. So will you find and do your best work. And finally, I beg you, do not enter on your work with any small view of the possibilities of our calling. This is a day when the nation's call to service rings in our ears. Library work is service. It cannot be anything else. In it.\nThere are no great rewards of money or fame. But there are great things to be done. The work calls for devotion, for learning, for character, for service. One service especially has been now laid on us with an ever-growing heaviness. We have \u2014 perhaps lightly \u2014 assumed the burden of supplying the reading of our soldiers and sailors, at home in training, abroad on service or in hospital. The librarians of the country through the American Library Association in the summer of 1917 volunteered to conduct special library work for the new armies soon to assemble. We went to the American people in the fall and asked them for money. They gave it, generously, freely. Amid a thousand perplexities such as beset any new effort on a huge scale, our War Service Committee organized our forces, brought thousands, yes, millions, of books to the troops.\nBooks and dollars to effective use in camps, hospitals, and on our ships. The Library War Service of the American Library Association stands today a living, active, moving proof of the vitality and power of American library ideals. But proud as we are of what has been done there, yet a greater task looms large before us. We need the best effort of every librarian, of each library trustee. What we have done has not been easy. There have been earnest and sincere differences of opinion. There were delays \u2013 heart-breaking delays \u2013 and difficulties.\nDecisions had to be made, with the military ends of the army and navy always in view, which have not pleased some very earnest and very loyal folk among us. There will be more differences and difficulties. But what do these things matter? It is the work, our work, the best work librarians ever did, which counts. To it I beg you all to rally with but one purpose, one aim, one resolve. Support the War Service! Get behind it! Work for it! Make it better! Let every camp and hospital librarian, every volunteer at dispatch offices, on the transports, at Headquarters, in France, feel your interest, your determination. We are not going to fail our men! They need books and our best brains. If librarianship has any force, any ideals, if it means anything, then we must forget all our differences and go forward.\nThis is a day of stock-taking. Ancient institutions, established forms of government, the whole order of society find themselves compelled to justify not their methods but their existence. The world-cataclysm of 1914 to 1918 had enormous destructive powers. The job of beating Germany and her allies had shaken the whole Western World out of century-old ruts. We have had to bestir ourselves \u2013 the whole Western World had to bestir itself \u2013 to unaccustomed tasks, and now that we have at last won a military triumph, no one is quite content to settle back into the old routine. The discontented and angered folk who have been grievously unhappy for decades \u2013 and often with too much reason \u2013 are rushing forth with mighty shoutings and much spilling of ink in this library. Our college and university libraries\u2014 A Survey and a Program.\nCountry and much spilling of wretched humanity's blood in eastern Europe. We are conscious that everything we have been accustomed to do and much that we have been accustomed to think is practically on trial. \"Schools and the means of education,\" said the old Ordinance of 1787, establishing civil government in the Northwest Territory in which we live, \"Schools and the means of education shall forever be encouraged.\" One hundred thirty-three years later, we find ourselves forced to drop our complacency and to justify not only the encouragement but even the existence of the \"means of education.\" My particular concern is with one of these\u2014our libraries. Of what sort\nLibraries in our colleges and universities: function, worthwhile? I assume there are three roles of libraries in academia \u2013 often criticized, if anecdotes at professor and student gatherings are to be believed. The college library functions as a tool for instruction, research, and as one means of cultivating what we term culture. Incidentally, it provides livelihoods, more or less precarious, for a certain number of people. However, librarians cannot justify its continuance and support based on this alone, any more than on the Ordinance of 1787. If one can find other reasons for the college library beyond these three \u2013 instruction, research, culture \u2013 they would surely be in this direction.\nI. College and University Libraries\n\nThese libraries play a crucial role in preserving the record of the cultural condition of our day for future generations. This task would be equally well performed by libraries of another sort. I wish to survey our college libraries from their three aspects: their relations to teaching, investigation, and the development of a rounded, informed, and sensitive mind.\n\nTo this audience, I need not emphasize that a college or university encompasses both the faculty and the students. Provision for the needs of both is essential in the academic type of library. To the layman, the student's requirements, particularly in the field of instruction, are more apparent than the equally vital demands of:\n\n\"the faculty.\"\nOne may assume, as a reasonable postulate in instruction, that a fair supply of modern books is necessary for training the average undergraduate. Further, certain minimum facilities in the way of buildings and rooms are needed for libraries. And finally, that there are really no libraries without some people to serve them. How nearly are our colleges and university libraries competent in these three matters, the barest fundamentals of libraries as vehicles of instruction?\n\nTake first the field of literature \u2013 pure literature or belles-lettres. It is a sorry college which does not give instruction in the English, French, German, and other major languages.\nModern trends minimize language mechanics instruction in favor of literature instruction. However, genuine literature instruction is impossible without books for students to read themselves. Discussing and reading about books won't be a satisfactory method, except for cramming for exams. Thorough or competent work in English literature can't be given without a comprehensive collection of English, American, Canadian, and Australian books in poetry, drama, fiction, essays, and so on. Gothic literature can be taught with a few books, as there are hardly any monuments of the Gothic tongue besides the Bible of Ulfilas. Anglo-Saxon can be studied with fifty or a hundred books.\nFrom the time of Chaucer to the present day, the range of literature in English alone warrants at least four or five thousand volumes as a minimum. Heaven knows where the outer limits might be. There is also French literature with its wealth of classic and modern writers. The average Michigan or Ohio college provides instruction in French, a few courses in classic drama, modern prose writers, and the like. However, I venture to say that there is hardly a single comprehensive and strong collection of French literature in the two states \u2013 certainly our collection at Michigan (though large) is faulty and defective. We can give little sample courses in parts of French literature \u2013 but our libraries will not support a thorough exploration of this rich literary tradition.\nNot furnished to students or faculties the survey of the output of the French literary spirit, which alone will allow them to grasp its proportions and its real significance in the history of human thought. Even complete sets of the masters are often lacking in our smaller colleges. A library which has less than a couple of thousand volumes in its French collections is ridiculously inadequate for undergraduate instruction in French literature.\n\nAnd now I shall call the roll of the other tongues: German, from the Minnesingers to Luther and Heine; Italian, from Petrarch to d'Annunzio; Spanish, from the Chronicle of the Cid to Ib\u00e1ez; Portuguese, Dutch, Norse, Swedish, Danish? And the authors of the ancient world, Greek and Latin, in particular \u2014 are we not their direct heirs? Of course, we can and do teach Greek and Latin and German and...\nSpanish and even those Slavic tongues whose literatures I have not mentioned. But we do poorly for our undergraduates when we give them a textbook and a dictionary and require them merely to translate as an exercise in mental gymnastics with supposedly incidental benefit to their English style. If they gain no notion of the place of their text in its national literature, then our libraries are but shams as means of instruction in literature.\n\nIn the field of letters, I have failed to mention vast areas with which a competent student, even as an undergraduate, should have at least a bowing acquaintance. There is the whole Oriental world \u2014 Chinese, Japanese, the Semitic literatures, generally undreamed of by our so-called \u201cliterary\u201d student. Of course, no one is expected to be an expert in all of these areas, but a basic understanding and appreciation for the diversity and richness of world literature is essential for any well-rounded education.\nThe average college should have a good collection of Japanese or Arabic books. It should have sufficient numbers of these (and their peers) in both original and English versions. This would inform, for instance, an intending missionary that \"heathens\" are not without letters. Before leaving this intriguing topic of what the average undergraduate does not encounter \u2013 he is, after all, a friendly and fine youth, our substitute for \"the child\" in the pedagogue's familiar discourse \u2013 I would at least mention the character of the religious books in the ordinary college or university library. Can we not find a way to relegate to upper shelves (if not to outer darkness) the leftovers from the libraries of deceased ministers? We all know how far removed they are from the present.\nThe college library seldom owns good and fine books on religious topics. If it does, they are often overshadowed by ancient commentaries and treatises on outdated topics. The great classics of religious literature are rarely prominent, and the student passes them by - a pity, as he inadvertently forms the notion that all books on religion are outdated.\n\nAs for instruction in the world's literature, particularly modern history, we seem incompetent. The American public has recently gained intimate knowledge of previously unknown peoples and places, demanding instruction in history and geography for their children.\nWe can provide textbooks and a few larger treatises. However, professors cannot teach history solely by the textbook method, and librarians agree. The challenges in obtaining an adequate supply of documents, texts, treatises, and printed source material for undergraduate study of American history are formidable for university libraries. European and American history do not encompass world history. Asia, Africa, and South America demand their place at the peace conference and in the League of Nations. Can we teach American history with a textbook, Old-South leaflets, Hart's American History Told by Contemporaries, MacDonald's Select Characters, and the War Encyclopedia of the Com?\n\n(Note: The text appears to be in good shape and does not require extensive cleaning. Only minor corrections for typos and formatting have been made.)\nPeople are conducting research on public information using equipment, possibly with a file of the Congressional Globe and a few public documents. This isn't done in Ohio or Michigan colleges! One cannot teach medieval history successfully to undergraduates without, well, I won't attempt a list. Nobody ever did teach medieval history without relying more or less on the lecture method and hoping that their students gained some understanding of the feudal system and the glories of city life in the thirteenth century from the slim aids they could provide in an English dress.\n\nI shall not dare to say what constitutes a competent equipment in history for undergraduate instruction in a college library. But one thing I am certain of; no one has yet complained of a surplus of material.\nAnd with history come economics, sociology, anthropology, and philosophy. The debate between lecture and textbook, and first-hand study of documents and evidence is ongoing. Many men who lecture or quiz from a text do so because the other method is not possible without adequate college library equipment. Once introductory courses are completed, instruction in economics, sociology, or any human relations science requires numerous books. It demands documents from governments, statistics, maps, and reports on various people and things. Even our great university libraries hold these outputs.\nThe literature of international law is extensive and varied, even a selection would strain the resources of the average college. Students debate international law topics based primarily on the Literary Digest and Association for International Conciliation pamphlets. Our college libraries are barely competent in this subject, and this is typical of the entire group. I have not yet mentioned natural and applied sciences. We have learned to teach these subjects in laboratories, but we have barely sensed the fact that the record of scientific discoveries and advancements is vast. (College and University Libraries 211)\nThe progress of science as set forth in journals and great treatises is an essential part of scientific instruction. We make our students learn the technique of the microscope or the photometer, but seldom do we require them to learn the technique of using Medicus. Here again, it is the fault - in part - of library equipment which has directed the method of teaching. Laboratories and note-books are not enough for undergraduate or graduate teaching in science. The student needs to be familiar with at least the great journals and reference books, if he is to get the true benefit of scientific study. Not just skill in observation and its recording, but an ability to quickly find what has been published on similar observations marks the young scientist of real ability and severe training. And without an adequate library, this is not possible.\nA brilliant student in natural science generally lacks the historic sense that distinguishes the master from the neophyte, and whose absence marks and mars American scientists of the present day. You may call the roll of the sciences from astronomy to zoology \u2014 no one of them gives proper undergraduate instruction solely by the laboratory.\n\nI am ignoring absolutely the whole field of applied sciences and technology, domestic and industrial arts, subjects which have forced their way into college curricula, and on which there exists an enormous body of books \u2014 books which go out of date almost faster than they are printed. The great field of the fine arts I am likewise deliberately omitting. Properly to equip a department of the fine arts in such a fashion that even the elementary instruction may be effective is a problem of vast complexity.\nElementary courses in art history and criticism can be pursued successfully require an expenditure of money far exceeding the ordinary resources of American colleges. The necessary books are legion in number, and their cost is so great that few libraries without special endowments may attempt systematic purchase. If the ordinary equipment in books suffices only for the barest needs of undergraduate instruction, what shall we say of college library buildings from the point of view of teaching? Well, the less said the better. There are only some half dozen college library buildings in the country which appear to have been consciously planned with a view to their use in instruction. As a rule, every sort of need must be met in a single general reading room, usually cramped and inadequate for the diverse requirements of students and faculty.\nThe faculty and students, both advanced and elementary, work together in a noisy environment. There are frequently small collections in laboratories and classrooms around the campus, designed, as a rule, for the convenience of professors and advanced students. However, buildings deliberately planned for facilitating undergraduate study are conspicuous by their absence. In fact, the pretty little library buildings which are the pride of many colleges are fraudulent from any scientific or professional point of view. They are architecturally vague, just because our college libraries are vague. They show no differentiation of functions, just because the college library has not been grasped as a teaching instrument. Most of them might just as well have been planned for public libraries, save for some few special rooms for research.\nIf my contentions are valid, we must acknowledge that the college with less than a hundred thousand volumes is inadequately prepared to provide modern work in the humanities and science. The college without a special library building is likely better suited to adapt its library to instructional purposes than one possessing a modest little architectural gem, the gift of some grateful alumnus. And what of the library service, which, more than bricks and mortar, makes a library?\n\nThe most notable aspect of our college library service in the past twenty-five years has been its self-sacrificing dedication. Librarians have been making bricks without straw, trying to make one book do the work of five, and serving as all things to all men, but with the usual result of satisfying no one \u2013 not even themselves. I cannot name a college or university that has not faced similar challenges.\nUniversity libraries in the United States today which are adequately manned render effective service. American librarians have developed a technique that works fairly well and is superior to that in Europe, but it takes more money to apply it than most colleges have felt able to afford. Most conspicuously, college librarians have been obliged to lag behind their colleagues in public library work, primarily due to lack of funds. In my 25 years of library work, I have never seen a time when I had enough force of a high grade to do well all the work which lay at hand, serving in libraries of no less standing than Princeton, the Library of Congress, and the University of Michigan. If you would develop the library into an efficient aid in education.\nFor proper instruction in a twentieth-century free democracy, a college library should have a large number of books - around 100,000 to 150,000 books for every thousand students. There should be separate reading and study rooms for certain undergraduate classes. In addition to an adequate staff for general library purposes, there should also be a special library staff to aid undergraduate study. This is a modest program, barely reaching our professed needs.\nOur colleges to double their volume of books, not to mention their library budgets for maintenance. So much for instruction. What about research? How many of you men sincerely trying to advance knowledge in your chosen field find the library resources of your own college or university adequate to your needs? How many of you can conscientiously keep a promising student under your care rather than send him off to New York, Boston, Chicago, or Europe? I venture to say, as a result of years of bringing men and books together, that outside of four or five great centers, there are not half a dozen American libraries competent for research, save in some very limited fields. A scholar in Great Britain or France, for example, whatever the defects of his home library, has access to resources far surpassing those in most American institutions.\nA scholar can quickly reach London or Paris and travel between them in eight hours. He has a fair chance of finding all he wants in printed books between the British Museum and the Bibliotheque Nationale. However, what chances does his colleague in Columbus, Cincinnati, Cleveland, or Ann Arbor have? Chicago is the nearest library center, but it is not comparable to either London or Paris. Without the opportunity for research at home, you know well the temptations that beset the scholar. The pressure of teaching, executive and committee duties, and the necessity of providing for a growing family in a high-priced day force the man who might have advanced knowledge and made his college illustrious to abandon little by little his high aims and purposes with which he began his college teaching.\nThe most vital need of American scholarship today, as I see it, is not the so-called endowment of research, but the provision of materials for research in college and university libraries. Given the books, the scholar will infallibly use them to the lasting benefit of his kind.\n\nIn fact, I question seriously whether there will long be such a thing as American scholarship without a rapid and far-reaching increase of our means of research. Our really advanced and thorough-going scholarship has been largely \"made in Germany,\" or at least made in Europe.\n\nCollege and University Libraries 217\n\nWhat avail is it to bring to this central region a young man trained in the study of the history of science, for example? He will find no long series of academic transactions and proceedings, no masses of the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth century records.\nTreatises on his topic, no array of minor learned societies in which appear those precious biographical notices of the less conspicuous savants. It is even doubtful whether that universal resource of the man stalled in pursuit of a date or an anecdote, our old friend Notes and Queries, is waiting on the library shelves. He must borrow and beg hither and yon, and by the time he gets his monograph half done, some Dane or Dutchman anticipates him by the publication of a treatise containing all those citations he has sought for in vain by correspondence across the continent. No wonder he retires in disgust from his own field and becomes an efficient extension lecturer or a noted \u201cdean of men.\" Until we make our libraries instruments of research, we shall have to depend on European study and sabbatical years for the fulfillment of the dreams.\nThose who are obedient to the heavenly vision of exact science. A further query is permissible as to the competence for research of our library buildings, supposing the resources in the way of books to be good. How far have university libraries, for the question primarily concerns them, been planned as workshops? We should distinguish sharply between facilities for training students in the methods of research, such as are afforded by seminar rooms and the like, and provision for independent investigation on the part of professors or advanced students. Most modern library buildings have the former, more or less well worked out. But few of them have been designed with a view to giving convenient and quiet places for individual study in the immediate vicinity of the books\u2014places where books may be easily accessed.\nLibraries should be reserved, manuscripts locked up, and provided for investigators to work continuously or intermittently as needed. In the natural sciences, an investigator is expected to have a laboratory, often a private one. However, few of our libraries - which are, of course, the laboratories for men working in all fields of letters and arts - are planned with proper provision for isolation and conveniences for continued study. Book-stacks are seldom designed with a view to frequentation by a large number of workers. Compactness of storage must be sacrificed for convenience of movement in consulting books, if we are to have our libraries function as research workshops. This plan of building is costly in both space and money. However, anything less expensive in both is more costly in those precious hours.\nIf scholars have insufficient time, which is commonly the case due to executive and teaching duties, the efficiency of research in college and university libraries is greatly compromised. If books are poorly lit, stored in narrow and dark aisles, distant from tables and study rooms, and dusty, the loss of efficiency is significant. However, if instruction and research are neglected in college libraries, what of culture? Culture does not come with understanding and cannot be analyzed. It does not necessarily result from ample provision and forethought any more than a humble and contrite heart arises from what used to be called \"the means of grace.\" Culture arises less from the utter absence of things ordinarily associated with it. Intimate, daily contact with high-quality books is essential for the cultivation of culture.\nThe character cannot be produced where books and people are not brought together on terms of ease and familiarity. In fact, as I study college curricula and college plants, I am frequently led to ask myself whether we are honest in inviting students to come to us for four or more years. I am no laudator tempesti oris acti. But to me, the very success of our old and narrow college curriculum seems a challenge to us who have departed so far from its tradition. The emphasis in our old American colleges used to be on training that produced men. It did not produce scholars, nor was it vocational preparation. Lowell's plea for the university in which nothing useful was taught was (more than even he knew) a true apology for the education which made the college men of his day leaders in their fields.\nTime has passed. Plain living is returning to academic circles due to necessity. But is high thinking coexisting with it? Our world is vastly different from the New England of this grace year. College graduates, educated only in letters and mathematics, became lawyers through office study, doctors through apprenticeship with a physician, ministers through theological seminaries, and leaders in politics through native force and moral issues. We have altered our college education in almost every subject taught and added numerous subjects. Our announcements are now thicker than ten-year-old catalogs from the past. But are we producing men - and women - as effectively as our forefathers? Men trained in logical thought processes, exact attainment in mathematics or pure science, and so on.\nFamiliarity with at least a few great authors and able to speak and write clear and forceful English is required for those going to college? If not for training men, why ask them to go?\n\nThe ignorance of the average student on cultural subjects really is astonishing. You can begin a conversation with a reference to the All-American football team, a political topic, or nowadays socialism. But when you discuss literary, artistic, musical, geographical, or historical matters with an undergraduate, you usually find a blank lack of knowledge. He is untrained in matters of color or form, generally lacks musical taste, and ignores the significance of scientific discovery. Can libraries help this state of mind? They can only do so if they are well-planned and well-equipped.\nWith a abundance of books and journals, and not confined in their books and magazines to the subjects of instruction in the college curriculum. As a nation, we have contributed little to the fine arts or to critical judgments on things of the spirit. There is evidence that we have awakened in the last three decades to our artistic and cultural shortcomings. But the new regard for form and color and beauty of line shown in the erection of fifty-odd museums of art in American cities in the past thirty years has penetrated few of our colleges, and to college libraries perhaps least of all. Happy are institutions like Oberlin, whose new Art Gallery is a veritable inspiration. Happy also those few libraries which, themselves beautiful, have been given the means to make beauty and truth attractive through books.\nWhat may I offer as a practical program in the face of the shortcomings I have perhaps wearied you with, in 222 College and University Libraries? This is a practical age and it seems largely peopled by folk - like myself - born in Missouri.\n\nFirst, with regard to instruction - I would urge the definite recognition of the fact that the college library is the sole laboratory for all the studies which we term humane, and a training ground for a great part of those we call scientific. As a laboratory for the humanities, it demands money - the massed laboratory funds for these subjects. If given a reasonable portion of the total college income - at least six, better ten, percent - it should soon be adequate in its book supply and its service to the demands of teaching. Without some such provision, it will always be starved.\nThe building or quarters should distinguish sharply between functions. It is not hard to manage this - the difficult thing is getting architects, trustees, and presidents to see the problem. Required reading, for example, can be handled expeditiously and quietly if segregated from general reading and research. Advanced instruction is easily taken care of if planned in advance. The cultural effect of direct contact with the library's store of books can be secured - and what a boon it is! - in most colleges by taking a leaf out of the open-access plan of public libraries. No matter how plain the library's quarters, proper exhibit space, well used, will aid in developing the cultural side of library work. And a cheery reading room, furnished with plenty of books and comfortable seating, is essential.\nMagazines on open shelves will do more than exhibits. Mark Hopkins once said that a boy couldn't rub up against college buildings for four years without absorbing some Latin. By the same token, he can't see interesting things in print about him for four years and continuously resist the impulse to read for himself. Plan for this sort of result, and you get it. Let things drift \u2013 and they drift.\n\nBut when we come to research, the program is not so easy. Here no amount of goodwill may at once or easily overcome the inherent difficulty \u2013 that is, lack of the books. Cooperation with other libraries, the using of the library resources of the state or region as one instrument, is the most practical suggestion I can offer. This means cooperation with public libraries, and with national and state agencies. It means pooling of interests and a definite resolve.\nTo build up strong collections along the line of their strength. The inter-library loan is in its infancy. Some day we shall have really rapid postal service by way of the air, and books may go in safety from Cleveland to Cincinnati in two or three hours time and be back the next day. In many European countries, the government franks books sent from one library to another. In this country \u2014 thanks to wholesome sentiment \u2014 we do this only for books for the blind. Surely our intellectual leaders should deserve as good treatment as those defectives whose plight appeals to sympathy. Thus we may some time cheaply and quickly aid each other. But cooperation means more than lending. It means refraining from buying in some field in which a neighbor is strong. At Michigan, we do not, for example, buy textbooks in large quantities when a neighboring university has a surplus.\nThe Detroit Public Library is rich in genealogy, making it appealing to many people. We do not buy unusual books if we know they are in the White Collection in the Cleveland Public Library. Instead, we focus on strengthening our Shakespeare and English Drama collections. This means self-denying ordinances for many college libraries if the plan is carried out. However, it also means effective research work in our colleges and universities. If this association begins now to limit fields, to lend freely, to cooperate with state and public libraries in Ohio, to pool purchasing powers, and to send students from one college to another to work in certain special collections, research facilities in Ohio would significantly improve within ten years.\nThe vast improvement would eliminate the need to fear for the future of Ohio scholarship. Men would seek places in Ohio faculties instead of fleeing to great city universities. College and university libraries would function as a single instrument of research. This is not Utopian \u2013 it is a practical plan born of experience and based on knowledge of conditions.\n\nThis requires the professionally trained librarian as a director of the college or university library. Without his care and oversight, the libraries will continue to function but haltingly. Our librarians have been seeing visions and dreaming dreams as a result of their war work. One of those dreams is the chance to prove what they can do for the college world if given the means.\nThe library and post-school education1.2 I have been asked to speak on the subject \"The library an essential agent in conserving and advancing the results of formal school education.\" To approach such a formidable topic, we must first face the problem presented; understand its scope and meaning. Fundamental in any consideration of this subject is the question of how large a part of the citizenship of the country has had any formal education at all; that is, how far do our schools actually reach the population of school age in the United States?\nIt was a very disagreeable shock to most Americans to read the figures about illiteracy in the National Army, a shock tempered only in part by the explanation that they were based on inability to read and write the English language. It would perhaps be an equally severe shock to the average taxpayer, who has become accustomed to lavish expenditures for schools, to realize how very large is the number of people who manage to avoid even the mere rudiments of formal education, either by direct escape from all schooling or by dropping out after a few terms. Despite our compulsory school laws and despite child labor laws, it is a matter of common knowledge to all schoolmen that there is a steady influx of illiterates into the army.\nThe average American citizen, having had but a few terms in school or having escaped formal education altogether, has had so little schooling that it has formed a minor part of his education. What has educated the unschooled or the partly-schooled? It is of course silly to deny that they have had an education - every adult human being has had one. Primarily, it has been their contact with their kind, their social life which has trained them.\nThe most highly developed product of schools is not limited to classroom hours. President Wilson once remarked at Princeton, and it was one of his most profound observations on college life, that there was as much education going on between 4 p.m., when classes closed, and 8 a.m., when they began, as there was between 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. The home is the primary center of early education, and its efficiency is said to be sadly weakened of late years. But by bitter necessity, his occupation, his business, is the chief agent in the education the average mortal secures. I need not labor the position \u2014 it is so true and so patent that most professional educators never see it at all. It is the struggle of wits in the earning of daily bread that educates in the truest and most effective sense.\nAn ordinary man or woman. Important factors in average education are the various occupations of leisure hours that come to most folk. Whether it is a game of pool or attendance at a baseball game, some form of sport enjoyed either as a witness or as a partaker, dancing, cards, a social smoke, the theater, the movies, or whatnot \u2014 recreation and amusement have their share in educating us. A very large share it is, too, and it is likely to become larger with that shortening of the working day which seems inevitable.\n\nThe church has a part in education, to some extent, a formal part in teaching, as well as in service, sermon, and social ministration. Clubs of all sorts, associations, unions, societies, have their share. Man is molded by other men in his work and in his play. And then there is print: not books merely, but also newspapers and magazines.\nall printed things. Newspapers first \u2013 and for many, many thousands last as well, and all the time! Trade libraries and post-school education (The Journal of Education, vol. 229).\n\nThe number of newspaper readers in these United States must, it would seem, include every one who can read. The number of journals is legion. They all have their share in the education \u2013 such as it is \u2013 which our average man gets. And the weeklies! Not only the ubiquitous Post, which is read by perhaps one twentieth of our population each week, but scores of others, from the county newspapers to the most obscure trade-journals. Then there are the monthly magazines \u2013 many of them very cheap, and, I fear, you would say, nasty also. We are the most news-papered and magazine-ed nation on earth, I suppose, although I never dared get into the class of statistics.\nTacticians - you know their reputation. And last, and very much least, there are books. A hundred men read news papers every day of their lives for one who reads a book even occasionally. Thus are the unschooled educated by their kind and by print.\n\nMay I interject a word at this point? The education thus achieved is by no means necessarily bad. It is merely imperfect and inadequate. No matter how much schooling a man has had, he will not escape education by his fellows and by the news papers. He will, let us hope, supplement both by wisdom gained from books and teachers.\n\nAs the years go on, and as our schools grow, more persons in proportion to the whole mass will have had formal training in a high school. And yet their number is both actually and relatively small.\nIt is notorious that attendance in the early years of high school greatly outnumbers that in the later years, while graduates generally form but a fraction of the number entering. From any advanced or even general viewpoint, the results of secondary education seem rather slim and meager, particularly for those who have no further schooling. It may well be questioned whether the adolescent of eighteen leaving high school has any very profound knowledge or unusual equipment. He is, however, far more susceptible to the influence of print and of higher forms of amusement than is the youth of the same age who lacks his training. To him, books, in particular, make a direct appeal, however shallow his judgments on them. As a rule, most high school students have come into active contact with one or more foreign languages.\nThe study of foreign languages broadens a student's mental horizon in a unique way. It introduces them to other literatures that reading the vernacular does not. Most high school students receive some instruction in history and English. They are not made competent critics of life's and thought's great problems through their high school training. Instead, they are given the means to read widely and base their conclusions on more data than newspapers alone provide. A small percentage of students receive this education beyond high school.\nOur population who have had a collegiate, professional or technical education comprises a percentage that is slowly but surely increasing. This percentage is ordinarily regarded by teachers and professional \"educators\" as a leaven destined to raise popular taste and form the opinions of the multitude. Thanks largely to our state universities and city colleges, college graduates no longer come from the homes of the wealthy and urban middle class alone, but represent an ever increasing degree the homes of farmers and wage-earners as well. There is little question in my mind that it is his receptivity to new ideas which chiefly distinguishes the college graduate from his fellows\u2014and particularly to new ideas meeting him through the medium of print. A student well trained in the liberal arts is notoriously likely to be open to new ideas.\nA person more proficient in professional and technical studies than one versed only in their elements, largely due to his familiarity with books and printed materials, and the agility resulting from various mental exercises. Towards such products of colleges and technical schools, at least, there is a friendly and discriminating attitude. There is no mystery about the printed page that rouses either undue reverence or instinctive distrust. A college man has seen too much of its manufacturing.\n\nWe have then, as regards the results of formal education, a mass of partly lettered people, a slightly smaller mass of the meanly lettered, as that peppery Irishman, Richard Stanyhurst, aptly termed them.\nAnd a small number of better-trained minds vote in our democracy on equality. All of them in our democracy vote on an equality. Fact is, those whom the world's work has educated to leadership come largely, but not wholly, from the smaller group whose formal training has been long and thorough. What is the attitude of the whole toward print, particularly toward books? The answer to that question establishes the present and to a great degree the future status of the people\u2019s library in our communities.\n\nSupposing that practically all our people can read\u2014save that percentage whose eyes are held by lack of teaching\u2014what do they read? As I said above, they read journals, newspapers, magazines, and a very few books. The laws, postal and economic, regulate this.\nMake publications of all sorts available. They are distinctly the present-day mode, whether publishing the results of the most recondite scientific research or reporting baseball games. The trades and occupations also have their journals, frequently half a dozen to each calling. Look over any newsstand and for once note the magazine titles, particularly of those you never read or think of reading. Compare notes with any grocer or barber or clothier or bricklayer. They all with one accord will tell you that they read their own trade papers. From the labor union to the Society of Mechanical Engineers, every organization issues a weekly, monthly, or quarterly paper. Moreover, the pamphlet which in the eighteenth century outran the newspapers in popularity \u2014 thanks largely to the stamp-tax \u2014 has again come into its own.\nI have no means of compiling figures on the production of pamphlets in the civilized world in the last five years, but I can bear witness - as can every librarian - to the marvelous number produced by the war and its varied phases of propaganda. They must have reached literally hundreds of thousands of titles in Western Europe and North America alone. And they are read by thousands to whom a bound book seems anathema. But good newspapers - really great newspapers - are becoming less and less common. The morning press is before our eyes slowly passing away under the daily assaults of the cheap evening paper, run essentially to sell advertising and for no other end. Commercial journalism is a highly profitable business, and the purveying of real news is one of its least concerns - at least, so it seems to an observer.\nThe server, prejudiced due to its constant search for real news from around the world, cannot be doubted. However, it is questionable whether we receive accurate information in proportion to the annual destruction of forests for pulp-paper production. Yet, we all read and buy! We will continue to follow this river of text in an ever-widening margin of advertising until it runs out entirely.\n\nI do not exaggerate this paucity of news. If there is one thing the American people should have had abundant and accurate information about during the years 1918 and 1919, it was events and conditions in Eastern and Central Europe. But we all know how little we have had of real information.\n\nI don't know, you don't know, what has actually transpired.\nGoing on in Warsaw, Moscow, Sofia, Odessa, and Constantinople since the armistice was signed in November, these little papers published weekly in Russian, Polish, and Bohemian in certain small cities and towns in our country have carried real letters and news accounts. But not even our great metropolitan dailies have reported such facts. In truth, it is only in our libraries \u2013 and then only when they are conducted on progressive lines \u2013 that a man (not possessed of abundant means) can get at the real news of the day. Here he can find papers of varying shades of opinion and belief.\nBut he cannot do these things if librarians have not been awake to the news situation. If they have not understood the difficulties and if their boards of trustees have failed to back them up in providing the unusual journals and less common papers. Not only the ordinary run of magazines and papers which are found in the homes of cultured people, but the new, the unusual, the foreign, should be in even moderate-sized public libraries, if they are to fulfill their function of supplying information and real news to the people who support them.\nThe relation between the modern apartment with no room for bookcases, the modern house too small for our fathers' copious black-walnut bookcases, and the gradual decay of the bookstore in the United States: Have you ever stopped to consider what sort of books children grow up with nowadays? A children's librarian may have tried to find out what books are actually owned in the homes from which school children come. If you did, you would have been appalled at the paucity of books \u2013 the actual dearth of books \u2013 you supposed every one knew by sight at least. The Bible is still the world's bestseller, but there are thousands of American homes without one. In fact, there are thousands of homes in our land without any books except mail-order catalogues and textbooks.\nThe children bring back books from school. Have you ever seriously inquired about the type of books children normally see in small shops? Go into any city or town and make a list of the titles of the books in the windows of the little stores where tobacco, candy, \"notions,\" and cheap books crowd one another.\n\nLibrary and Post-School Education, 237\n\nI made a study of the books exposed for sale on West Madison Street in Chicago twenty-five years ago. It was a revelation to me. And only the other day in Buffalo, I walked up from the station and incidentally inspected the windows of two shops. Well, I found that public taste had not altered very much!\n\nJesse James and the Younger Brothers were still there, in a trifle more attractive guise. Instead of \"Scarlet Sin\" and other equally startling and fetching titles, there were new ones, but the theme remained the same.\nThere was a sheet called \"America's most spicy sex-magazine\" with crude cover illustrations of the nude. The dime novel of my boyhood, not all bad, far from it!, had been changed only in outward form. The aeroplane and motor substituted for the hero's or the villain's dashing steed. Yes-the children of the poor have an alluring set of titles offered them daily. It is a wonder that the children's rooms in the library make any headway against this display-and really, the fact that the children throng to them seems to me a tribute to the essential soundness of boy and girl nature.\n\nAnd did you ever try to buy a book in one of our very small towns or villages? How often have I endeavored to find something even passable in the little, fly-specked group in the local drug-store.\nThe last time I was marooned in a village for four hours, I could only discover the Detective Story Magazine. I had already read that week's Saturday Evening Post. By the way, the most interesting part of said Detective Magazine was the half dozen pages of advertisements \u2013 mainly for news of persons who had disappeared and never communicated with their families. But what is a mere annoyance to the passing stranger must represent a serious difficulty to the residents. Books are now sold in large numbers by mail-order houses, but there are good bookstores in too few of our towns and villages. The department stores have well-nigh driven the retail book-sellers out of business in the cities. The fact is that our population \u2013 despite the enormous number of periodicals \u2013\nLibraries are becoming more and more relied upon for even a sight of good books, let alone the chance to read them. I offer no explanation of these conditions. I merely call your attention to the facts. Libraries bear the responsibility for furnishing printed matter other than the sheet bought for a cent or two and discarded in the street car on the way home from work. Post-school education, as far as it is to be obtained from books, is likely for nine-tenths of our people to be obtained from library books. Private libraries are few and small outside of a select number of homes. Bookstores are fewer year by year despite heroic efforts of booksellers and publishers. Libraries are more than an agent in conserving and advancing the results of formal school instruction; they are invaluable resources for continuing education.\nMost cases, the agent, the only one possible for the average young man or woman seeking further knowledge from books. But no such statement as this - however positively made - gets very far. Unless people acquire early in life the habit of using libraries in an efficient and comfortable way, there is little chance of the library aiding very much in conserving the results of schooling. The chief task of librarians at the present day appears to be that of overcoming the indifference of the community towards their wares - and the inertia resulting from that indifference. It is a rare child who says to himself on graduating from school: \"Now I must keep what I have won. I'll go regularly to the library and read three nights a week.\" Unless the library has established direct contact with school children, contact apart from school.\nIt is in vain to expect much use from a child released from the bondage of school duties to the greater servitude of daily labor. It is vitally important, if the results of education are to be conserved, that both librarians and teachers realize the need of cultivating the habitual and voluntary use of the library by children. If, as a permanent result of schooling and the persistent intelligent effort of children's librarians, there is formed the habit of turning to the library for help in work and for recreation, then the results of school training are without doubt in a fair way to be not only kept, but deepened and strengthened. If this contact is lost, it devolves on the librarian to restore it. Planning for such contact is one of the chief duties of a librarian \u2014 a duty too often neglected.\nThe library, no matter how excellent on the technical side, is poorly managed if it goes unused and empty. I won't bore you with advice or describe the subtle and effective advertising methods now coming into vogue. Window-displays in stores and the library building, efforts to seize current interest in various topics and turn people to books about them \u2013 these things are just aids toward making contact between people and books. It's the librarian's chief problem. He's gradually learning ways to meet it, but he should begin with school-children and never lose them from his client roll. Such other aids to creating and maintaining this contact as are in vogue, like lectures and story-hours, may well serve his purpose.\nBut it is the conscious study of this problem as his chief business which will most surely win the results aimed at. Each community, each group in the community, presents a different phase of this absorbing task. Bringing people and books together in the right way and at the right time is, must always be, the librarian\u2019s largest work. And on his success to a great degree depends the conserving of the results of school training.\n\nBut if the problem be vital not alone to the success of libraries, but to that of civilization, no less vital is a clear conception of what is aimed at and hoped for in promoting the reading habit beyond the school experience. The most precious fruits of education, those which most of all require care and help for their persistence, their preservation, are those ideals.\nThe things of the spirit are the highest product of formal education. Their conservation is more imperative and honorable a duty, entrusted to our libraries than the purveying of business information or of recipes for cooking jam tarts. No agency is more potent in this preservation of ideals than certain types of books. Poetry and the drama above all serve this purpose. We respond to their appeal to our generosity, our loftiness of purpose.\nOur imagination and moral sense. They take us out of ourselves for the time. The catharsis which so impressed Aristotle as the supreme function of poetry is still its great apology. We are purged of the dross of self and gain and strife while we rise to the heights of the poet's fancy or follow breathlessly the rapid movement of dramatic action. And to poetry and drama, the modern age has added the story - the supreme vehicle for conveying the message of the great artist, the great teacher. There are no greater or worthier means of keeping alive lofty idealism, high purpose, serene temper.\n\nIn fact, in this day, the civic and educational value of recreative reading seems to be slightly obscured in favor of supposedly practical and informational books. But on a little reflection, any one of us must recognize.\nAdmit that there are few influences more pregnant with possibilities of high results than recreational reading. By every means, it should be encouraged by librarians; instead, we find them pointing with pride to its decrease. Eighty percent of fiction circulated is generally a lamented and decried item in an annual report. But to me, it is properly an occasion for congratulation, for pride. If the fiction is good, wholesome stuff, rattling good stories, exciting and interesting novels, purposeful, artistic studies of real life, then the more of it read, the better. I would rather my boy read a good story than spend the same time in a pool room. I would rather read a good story myself than write papers for educational congresses. And I would be far prouder to think that I had introduced a good story to him.\nA community to such clean and wholesome books as Back Home, The Prodigal Judge, A Certain Rich Man, and Gold, among hundreds of others, rather than knowing I had helped some scores of people with information of passing moment and interest. The scholar does not decry recreational reading. He recalls Cicero's noble words in the Oration for Archias on the worth of humane letters, their constant companionship in duress and in joy, their comfort and their permanence. He recalls Dante's eulogy on Vergil, and he knows from his own life what the recreation afforded by works of the imagination means to him. Denunciation of fiction reading is really crass Philistinism. The guiding of choice in fiction is a precious privilege granted to librarians. In exercising it, they must not forget the stern competition which they face.\nOne of the most successful ways to keep children reading is by maintaining their interest in a subject that attracted them during their school days. A poor child, whether boy or girl, who develops no hobby during school life at least starts one based on an interest. Schooling may or may not advance them far on this path. However, the library can often provide the opportunity that the school cannot. To keep an existing interest alive, the library and school should be in close touch. The librarian should have the means to inform pupils about the numerous books available on subjects they first encounter in class. For instance,\nThe geography classes open up the whole fascinating array of travel books in the library. An exhibit in the school or a visit of a class to the library may reveal to students possibilities of reading which will hold their attention and draw them to the library for years. Wherever there is a boy or girl genuinely interested in something on which books are written, there is a chance for the librarian to conserve \u2013 yes, to advance \u2013 the results of formal study. It is perfectly proper for him to buy books for the express purpose of promoting and keeping interest in some subject which has originated in the school. It is perfectly legitimate and indeed highly advisable to conserve clients to the library by keeping up human interest in all manner of topics \u2013 even when interest develops into that sort of hobby which makes life uncomfortable for the neighbors.\nIt is proper for the librarian to serve the smaller class with higher education. Most of us have stretched our funds to do so. However, few librarians in smaller towns and cities have recognized how easily they can serve people with special and advanced needs through inter-library loans. A librarian who is attuned to borrowing unusual books for unusual needs, who knows the resources in larger libraries, is a blessing to the scholar isolated by occupation or need in an out-of-the-way place. To him, such a librarian brings, at too high a charge as yet, the resources of the whole country. In fact, practically everything is available through inter-library loans.\nThe library, obtainable through photoduplication - only the process entails significant cost. We will eventually reduce this cost to insignificance, and then a librarian will possess an agency of great power in retaining their clientele and serving their town. Service to business holds similar potential. It can and should be provided - however, few are capable. The small town or city library will fulfill its educational function only when it pays a living wage to a living librarian.\n\nIf the educational function of the library were limited to preserving the spiritual and intellectual outcomes of formal schooling, it would have ample justification for its existence, even apart from its other services. However, fortunately, the library's role in advancing the outcomes of formal education is equally evident, although necessarily less apparent.\nSuch work appeals to a smaller group. What this group lacks in number, however, it gains in definiteness. Vague problems, vague feelings, are seldom well solved. But when we face very definite and particular needs, we generally make some measure of advance in meeting them. Such a need is found in the present efforts to establish continuation schools of various sorts. With the work of these schools, you are more familiar than I. You know how far they are vocational, how far they are elementary, how far advanced. But unless I miss my guess, there are none of them which could not profit from close contact with the public library. The library can and should aid instruction with books. It can easily provide (either at the school or in its own quarters) books both directly helpful in the instruction given and those leading on to further study.\nStudy. Night-schools and continuation schools provide a ripe field for the library's cooperation \u2013 a field perhaps yet too much neglected. There is pressing need in this country for Americanization work, for unfolding in a sympathetic manner the history, the government, the spirit of America to its foreign population. About this need and this movement, I am sure you are better informed than I. May I say, in passing, that it is my conviction that so-called Americanization will succeed just so far as it is done in a friendly, neighborly, sympathetic way? If we say to these folk, \"Forget all you are and have been! Become like us! Be Americans!\" we are not likely to win them to that spirit of democracy which we hold as our choicest possession. But if we lead them to know our ideals, to understand our ways, to comprehend our values, we may foster a sense of belonging and shared identity that can strengthen our democratic society.\nTheir rights and duties as part of our body politic, if we try to have them keep the best of their past and take on our spirit as well, we may have some hope of success. The public library can do - is doing - much to aid. It can assist in direct instruction and can furnish much material. There are few avenues of its work so promising of results, so well worth following. If we do our duty by continuation schools and Americanization work, we shall surely justify our claims to recognition as an essential agent in popular education.\n\nBut not alone in these formal classes is popular education carried on. Few people realize the extent to which the American people are organized into clubs and societies. If you will but cast up your own bills for annual dues of one sort and another and will then multiply them by some such figure as the number of persons in your town.\nOne hundred million people form social units, and not all clubs provide opportunities for the library's work. However, it's incorrect to assume that only women's clubs read papers and use books. In any community, there are literally scores of clubs that could benefit from books and periodicals. It's the librarian's privilege and duty to identify and serve these clubs, with tact and understanding. They have a right to his services, and through these services, the results of school training may be advanced. The fact that women's clubs have discovered the library does not mean they should monopolize it. The same sort of service, rendered frequently in a different way, is needed.\nThe library may be given to a great variety of organizations, thereby furthering popular education in a definite way instead of shooting in the air. The strangest gap in the corporate relations of our public libraries has been their total failure to get into touch with labor unions. To ignore the unions in the present age is to cut ourselves off from one of the strongest and most vital forces moving in our social cosmos. Individuals, many thousands of union members, make use of their libraries. I have known some librarians who have succeeded in keeping in active and efficient touch with the unions as such. Labor is undoubtedly going to secure a shorter working day than has been customary. Those hours released from toil must be spent somewhere. Need I explain?\nIs the librarian's duty and privilege not clear in that very statement? And is any duty more imperative than that of encouraging and holding onto the reading habit among our men? It will not be achieved through the methods or books that have been most popular among us. But it needs to be done \u2013 and that right soon. There is also the real student, striving to maintain his studies \u2013 often amid the cares of his business or profession. In these days, when so much of the world's discussion of science and the arts is produced in journals, the plight of the student lacking access to such journals is frequently pitiable. He can seldom buy more than a fraction of what he needs. He must depend on the library to aid him. And generally, the librarian is forced to view him as just one unit demanding much.\nThe high-school teacher, university worker in physics, biology, Greek, or history, young chemist in the industrial plant, young doctor with a special interest, lawyer working on a case started in law school, clergyman with reading intentions, and the boy in the shops studying Spanish - these are our rare and special clients. If we maintain the spirit of humanists and remain true to librarianship traditions, we will sacrifice much to aid such individuals.\nWe borrow, beg, and buy books for them. And we shall be of some little service, perhaps, to the advancement of true learning. There has been a great change in our library work. We librarians are convinced that we serve all the people \u2014 not a part alone, as most folk have supposed. We are trying to survey the whole field of our work \u2014 to understand towns and cities and the countryside as well. We are studying them, charting the possibilities. We believe we can make books useful and helpful to many people who seldom think of them. We are ready to cooperate with business and labor, with schools and clubs and churches and homes. We serve all \u2014 and chiefly do we serve education, organized and individual. But no longer are we content to serve vaguely, indefinitely, hoping that we may somehow do good.\nWe are striving for the actual and the concrete in service, in Library and Post-School Education. And we are reaching our aim more and more surely each year. Thus - and thus only - shall we succeed by the very definiteness of our aim and of our labors in conserving and in advancing the results of school training.\n\nThe American Library Association at the Crossroads\n\nIt is inevitable that we should recall tonight the amazing change in world conditions from the situation at the time of our last annual conference. Then the darkest days of the great war had indeed passed, though none of us could know for a certainty that the tide of German attack pressing on toward Paris had truly ebbed. The courageous and supremely daring offensive already launched by Marshal Foch in mid-June had just begun to put hope into the hearts of the allied peoples, stunned by the recent onslaught.\nAt the Crossroads\n\nby the constantly widening and steadily renewed German offensives of the spring of 1918. The great days of Chateau-Thierry and the second Marne were those on which we met at Saratoga \u2014 anxious days on which our minds continually reverted to France and refused to concentrate even on problems of the library war service. We were more eager for the latest newspaper than for advice, inspiration, discussion on themes ordinarily absorbing to us. We adjourned just as the Germans were definitively driven across the Marne for the second time. And we adjourned confident (though no man ventured to say what he thought) that July of the next year would see us still struggling to end the war and to finish our share of the supreme effort.\n\nPresident\u2019s address at the Forty-first Annual Conference of the American Library Association, Asbury Park, N.J., June 23-27, 1918.\nThe task of western civilization \u2014 the final defeat of Germany and her allies! Indeed, so fearful were we, and rightly so, that sterner sacrifices would be required of us. We passed a resolution empowering our Executive Board to postpone this annual meeting if the public emergency should be such that conventions and conferences would prove undesirable.\n\nHow different the national and international atmosphere today! The war won in November \u2014 our men returning as rapidly as they were ferried across the ocean \u2014 industry and agriculture resuming their wonted courses. Problems of readjustment agitating nations and individuals. The Peace Congress almost over \u2014 a league of nations almost an actuality \u2014 disarmament going on worldwide \u2014 and stricken humanity endeavoring to bind up its wounds and to console its broken-hearted.\nThe note of our meeting today is one of triumph and jubilation. We are not forgetful of the problems of peace, many of them as ugly as those of war (or so they seem to our still taut nerves). But after all, the war is behind us. We are living through a period of rapid change, and our foes, if there are any, are at least likely to be those of our own household. We doubtless have enormously difficult days ahead of us, but happily, our own land has been spared the sorrows that have afflicted our noble French and Belgian allies. We are materially and morally less stricken by war, less worn and weary, more able to face the future with smiling confidence, resting assured that the American spirit which brought us through war will still carry us on to a larger life and a greater service in peace.\nAnd we meet again after a year to take up with renewed zest and energy those problems of our work which we are accustomed to attack in our annual gatherings. Yet we are none of us quite the same as we were in 1917 or 1916. Our work, while still \"the trivial round and common task,\" is not done, cannot be done, in exactly the same spirit as of old. We have dreamed dreams and seen visions, and we are turning to the future of our library service with a profound conviction that it is service\u2014public service of the highest type. To that end, we are met, to consider our war service and to render an account of our stewardship in that branch of our labors; to transact our routine business and to hear and discuss reports of our committees; but chiefly to survey our own capacities and to talk over the future direction of our work.\nThis is a forward-looking conference for progressive Americans in the year of grace 1919. In planning the papers for this series of meetings, your Program Committee had three purposes in mind. First, we wanted to emphasize and make practically important our committee reports. Too frequently, these have been perfunctory and received little discussion. As far as possible, these reports have been printed in advance, and instead of being read in full, they will be presented in summary only to leave time for discussion. They represent much work on the part of the committees, and I bespeak for them your interest and your comment. The most important \u2013 certainly the most interesting \u2013 report is likely to be that of the War Service.\nCommittee before you this printed form. The war service is large in our eyes, and we have devoted a significant portion of our program to it. One consequence of this service, or what we librarians believe should be one of its results, is the establishment of similar service on a permanent basis for the Army and Navy. We are fortunate to have distinguished representatives from both branches of the service to speak on this topic. Our second theme is a statement of present-day conditions in American libraries. We should have been glad to dedicate most of our time to this purpose of presenting our conditions and resources. However, a few necessary topics must suffice us. We present a preliminary report on plans for a complete survey.\nThe president of the Association will review its work and discuss certain possibilities that have emerged during his term of office. I do not apologize for addressing the American Library Association about the American Library Association. We will confer on the topics, avoiding historical, theoretical, and technical matters, except for our war service.\nAt the Niagara Falls Conference in 1903, J. N. Larned, then retired from active public service though not from active work, spoke convincingly to a group of younger people about the life of the American Library Association as a body. He said, \"I feel it, it is almost palpable; it exists, it influences you and me. We cannot escape it, it forms us, and yet we form it.\" The experience of fifteen years proved these words to be true.\nThe Association has proven its vigor, power, and influence, which we may only dimly be conscious of. This power and influence have primarily shaped the thoughts and actions of professional librarians. It has stimulated their ideals and maintained their standards. It has functioned as a professional public opinion, working more or less effectively as circumstances allowed. The great shock of war, however, has released an enormous latent energy in our Association and in our calling, as not all strong librarians are members of our body. We are now conscious of greater possibilities in library work and in the concerted work of librarians than we ever sensed in the past. Much of this feeling is naturally at the crossroads.\nthe  result  of  war  service.  It  is  in  every  way  proper, \nthen,  to  inquire  how  far  we  have  measured  up  to  the \nopportunities  the  war  has  thrust  upon  us.  And \nfurther,  what  are  the  next  steps? \nTo  a  thoughtful  person  it  was  a  very  significant \nthing  that  the  United  States  Government  through \nthe  Commission  on  Training  Camp  Activities  applied \nto  this  Association  to  render  service  along  strictly \nprofessional  lines.  It  asked  us  as  librarians  to  con\u00ac \ntribute  our  professional  serivces,  just  as  it  asked  the \nthe  doctors  and  the  chemists  to  serve  as  doctors  and \nchemists.  That  such  a  thing  was  possible  shows \nthat  the  value  and  need  of  the  librarian\u2019s  work  in \nmassing,  arranging,  and  interpreting  books  had  at \nlast  gained  the  recognition  which  it  deserves.  No \nsingle  fact  in  connection  with  our  war  service  has \nmore  significance  for  us  as  we  face  the  problems  of \nOur war service was sought and performed on the ground of our special fitness. The history of library war service has been one of steady gain in recognition. The discernment of certain far-seeing men in Washington did not mean that their judgment must necessarily be final and instantly accepted. Nay, it was their initial wisdom that made possible the gradual winning by librarians of a professional status in the minds of thousands of commanding officers, soldiers, sailors, marines.\n\nBelieve it is now true that even the scornful and doubting among the military have seen that books plus librarian are very different from books alone. And it has been no small gain for us as a profession that scores of our folk, mostly our younger members, have demonstrated this truth.\nPioneers in war service have had to win their way to esteem under novel and difficult circumstances. They had to make good in most cases with very little preparation from others. The task was hard and the labor involved strenuous and unremitting in setting up a new work amid adverse conditions. Few who were not themselves engaged in it can understand. Long hours, numerous obstacles, delays, red tape, failure of books and supplies, cold, wet, even lack of sleep, were the lot of many. The general testimony is most gratifying. They did make good. The exceptions were few enough to \"prove the rule.\" I look about me and see these men and women who have worn and are wearing our uniform, these younger folk who have toiled incessantly and with good spirit.\nI am moved to no small pride and thankfulness, in the name of the American Library Association, I salute you all, present and absent. We who could not go acknowledge to the full your sacrifice, your devotion, your skill, your energy. We share in the honor reflected on our calling by your labors. The name librarian henceforth means something to millions of men because of your work. And to those also who planned and toiled to carry out this war service, the American Library Association extends hearty thanks in your name. From the very first days of our entrance into the war until now\u2014two full years\u2014certain officers and committee members of this body have been unsparing in their devotion of strength, time, and effort to the library war service.\nThey have worked to raise money and books, have sacrificed time and strength to attend committee meetings, and have neglected their own work to do this patriotic service, in the name of the American Library Association. You know them all, and it would be easier, less invidious perhaps, to mention no names. But while recognizing that all of them have been devoted, I cannot refrain from stating publicly the obligations we owe to a certain few. There is our secretary, Mr. George B. Utley, who has served as executive secretary of the War Service Committee, who has known no limits of hours for two years, and who has carried the greatly increased burden of his regular work in addition to all this war work. There is the chairman of the War Finance Committee, Dr. Frank P.\nHill, to whose untiring and truly heroic efforts we owe the raising of the first war service fund of eighteen thousand dollars and the second fund of three and a half million. There is Mr. J. I. Wyer, Jr., the chairman of the War Service Committee, who has spent his time and strength, I fear too lavishly, on the war service and the work of the Committee of Eleven in charge of the United War Work Campaign Fund. No one who has not been a part of that work can realize the burden he has carried, and the way he has carried it. There is Mr. Carl H. Milam, the associate general director of the war service, to whom sixteen hours a day of the hardest kind of work seem a pleasing measure, and who has carried successfully administrative burdens which would have laid most of us on the shelf.\nWe have the War Service's general director, Dr. Herbert Putnam. His work capacity, administrative skills, foresight, and penetration leave us all in awe. Volunteer work, all of it! Money doesn't pay for the kind of labor these men and their colleagues have given to America during her time of need. It's our responsibility not only to acknowledge their efforts but also to continue their work, bringing its spirit back to our offices, desks, reading rooms, and stacks.\n\nWe, as librarians, are obligated to do more due to what our colleagues have been and done. We are obligated as an Association to do more \u2013 not more or less \u2013 than we did before this emergency.\nThis national crisis showed us our power to act. This obligation is real and vital and affects us all. Although the officers of the Association feel it keenly, I have chosen this topic for my address, as our custom requires of each retiring president. However, before considering our potential future activities, we must first address the question: \"What kind of machinery do we have to work with?\" Let us set aside thoughts of our accomplishments and future tasks to focus on the practical considerations of our organizational structure.\n\nIn the pursuit of smooth and efficient functioning, I propose a simple scheme. Our Executive Board should serve virtually as a Board of Directors, carrying out the Association's work through committees composed of its own members.\nIn my judgment, our organization is too complex and should be simplified and made more efficient by following the example of business corporations. If we detach ourselves from the circumstances which have produced our present form of organization and view it from the standpoint of an efficiency engineer, we can see at once that it would benefit greatly by centralizing responsibility and authority. Some such process is necessary if we are to meet the demands pressing upon us. I therefore urge that you consider this matter carefully at the business sessions, for I am convinced that until the constitution of this Association permits concentration of authority and rapidity of action, we shall never perform the work we ought to do. This conviction is the direct result.\nI have observed in the past year, as many important matters have come before the Association's officers, that the sentiment I am about to express is shared by many thoughtful persons. I trust you will give it your attention.\n\nWhat are these demands I have spoken of? The primary one comes from within ourselves. We have witnessed the magnificent spirit with which our library folk have responded to the call for their services in a time of national peril. We have felt both pride and satisfaction in the American Library Association's accomplishments during this period. On every hand, I hear librarians saying, \"We must not lose this spirit\u2014this momentum. We must keep it for our peace time work. There must be no slackening, no slump, no dropping back, no disobedience to the vision.\"\n\nDo you not encounter this kind of feeling and talk?\nI do, wherever I go, this determination not to drop back into mere routine, not to let slip this sense of power. Can we, dare we, ignore this call to continuing service, service as a body, not merely as individuals? Whatever else we do here in this week, we must not assume that with the war our collective responsibility ends, and we may now go back to 1917 and take up the old threads where we left off. So strongly has this feeling been in the hearts of the officers of the Association that they felt confident that you would wish, would decide, would plan to go on to further corporate work in peace, work for the benefit of all libraries, and of communities having no libraries. To this end, a library survey.\nThe entire country was authorized by the Executive Board in January and entrusted to a Committee of Five on Library Service. This committee was charged with the duty of setting down the actual conditions of American libraries, their incomes, property, staffs, salaries, methods, practices. It is to report here on its plans. The need for some such statement of conditions, practice, and standards is great, as I can testify from repeated experiences during the past four months. \"Can't you give us some definite statement of what it would cost to run a college library in the right way?\" was the demand made on me by the Ohio College Association last April. \"What should we as trustees expect our librarian to do?\" has been asked of me a dozen times.\nLast year, \"Is our library doing well for its income?\" is a fair question for any citizen, whether a trustee or not. Some norm by which we can measure ourselves, some statement of practice, of salaries, of methods, of training, which trustees and librarians can set before them as a goal or a point of departure, this is what the Committee of Five will try to draw up. To do it properly will be most costly, but then, so will any other piece of good work. If we are to go forward, we must first know where we stand. We hope the Service Committee of Five will tell us, and I appeal to you all to second their efforts in your most hearty manner. One of the amazing experiences of the library service for soldiers and sailors has been the repeated calls for similar service to civilians. The money contributed for war work has been used solely for the library service.\nAt the Crossroads: war work has been heart-breaking as we've had to refuse numerous appeals for help, which we could give if we had the means. At the Council meeting, where all members are welcome, some of these kinds of work will be brought out by those knowledgeable in them. In advance, I want to mention that we could maintain an active force at headquarters doing legitimate library work not currently being done by established agencies, had we the means. There is the continuing service to the Army and Navy, which we hope will be taken over by the Government; service to the merchant marine, now sadly neglected and appealing in its demand; service to lighthouses and lightships, and to the coast guard; information and inspection service for communities in real need of expert advice, particularly in states lacking library commissions.\nservice to the blind, which is so costly and few local libraries are able to render effectively; service in organizing interlibrary loans, making the resources of the whole country serve research; service in cooperative buying, bringing to play for the benefit of us all the experience of buying for war work; service in publicity, recognizing that the best publicity is service; service to practical bibliography, unlocking the treasures too frequently concealed in card catalogs; service in preparing all manner of union lists, avoiding much duplication of rare sets, and much bidding against one another; service in aid of special library training; service \u2013 but I will stop. Why engage in various cooperative enterprises and public benefits? The work is\n\nAt the Crossroads\n\n(Note: The text above is assumed to be in modern English and does not require any translation or correction.)\nHere and ready to hand. The harvest requires only the reapers. But, says doubting Thomas - for he is here, many of him - where is the money coming from to do all these fine things? Where did the millions of books come from? What was the source of the millions of magazines? Who gave us nearly five million dollars for our war work? The American people only have to be convinced that we have a good thing to give us all the money we need. If we can't convince them, then we won't get it. But we should, I am sure, have a friend in every man in both services who saw our bookplate on a book he read. If we can believe the tales we hear and the letters that come in, the boys believe in us and in our work. If, as I believe, we have their goodwill, the rest is easy. The money will come, but not without asking.\nAt this conference, my fellow members, it will be your task to decide whether you wish to make the venture, to ask for the money, and to decide if you believe enough in your work to try to make the American people believe in it. In conclusion, the emergency work of the past two years has been done by a happy combination of our experienced leaders and younger men and women. If the American Library Association is to go forward, whether on the plans before us or on any others, it must be by the efforts of the younger generation. I see before me a few veterans who have been with the Association since its first meetings. We listened last year at Albany to him who was long its chief.\nThe servant and its chief inspiration, Melvil Dewey. But ladies and gentlemen, his words, prophetic as they were, marked the end of an epoch. The men of 1876 are almost all gone. The men who came into the work in the nineties are getting old. The war has shown the powers of those men and women who have come to us in the last two decades. To them belong the tasks of the near future. If ever we feared that the men who would succeed Dewey and Winsor, Larned and Poole and Cutter, Fletcher and Brett, and our other pioneers, would set a lower mark than theirs, that doubt has been dissolved by the last two years. Those who come after our pioneers are more than equal to the task. Together, if they will bear with the slower wits and less active bodies of us older men and women, we can carry the American Library Association on to greater and nobler service.\nFor  very  plainly  we  stand  at  the  crossroads.  Our \nwar  service  is  all  but  done.  Six  months  will  see  the \nAT  THE  CROSSROADS \nend  of  it.  We  can  of  course  go  lumbering  on,  doing \nfairly  well,  as  of  old,  our  accustomed  tasks.  Or  we \ncan  strike  out  into  new  fields,  into  ways  of  practical \nlibrary  service  that  are  clearly  open.  I  am  confi\u00ac \ndent  of  your  choice,  and  more  confident  that  we  can \nnot  go  back.  We  shall,  I  am  sure,  make  1919 \nmemorable  as  the  year  of  the  great  decision. \nTHE  RECORD  OF  SCIENCE^2 \nOne  learns  by  adversity \u2014 at  least  such  is  the \npopular  belief,  although  the  press  dispatches  from \nEurope  during  the  past  few  months  would  seem  to \ngive  the  lie  to  this  old  adage.  It  used  to  be  my  fate \nto  encounter  at  frequent  intervals  a  genial  friend  of \ngreat  distinction  in  the  field  of  physics  and  astronomy, \nlong  engaged  in  high  administrative  functions,  an \nalumnus of this university \u2014 a man of great weight and substance, who endeavored each time we met to overwhelm my cherished ambitions by bringing forth with great gusto this aphorism, \u201cBibliography is the platitude of research!\u201d So much did this phrase please him that he paraded it on many occasions, and I confess I used to dodge around the corner to avoid its rotund and sonorous condemnation of my own ways and works. I hope to show you that bibliography is the foundation of research, and that however level and flat that foundation may be, however dull may be the task of laying it deep and strong, no lasting and lofty superstructure may safely be reared, save on the secure footing of a knowledge of previous work done by others, a knowledge resting\nThe prevalent impression on every university campus, I suppose, is that the various branches of human knowledge are for practical purposes divided into two groups: the laboratory sciences and the book sciences. This is a convenient and easy grouping, and it has certain elements of truth in its facile cleavage of the field of inquiry. However, it is essentially inaccurate in that it ignores a fundamental factor common to research with the microscope or the blow-pipe and research with the written word or philosophic logic as its instrument. That factor is the record of what has been known and spread abroad by previous inquirers. The processes of human inquiry depend fundamentally on memory.\nThe pursuit of knowledge in our day is recorded in print, detailing what the race has done or thought or attempted. It makes little difference whether the inquiry is into the morphology of early Italic dialects of the Latin tongue or into the function of the ductless glands of guinea pigs\u2014the essential processes are alike. These include observation and the gathering of data by experiment or compilation; a study of previous work done in the same field with a critical examination of processes and results; a synthesis of findings from one's own observations and from recorded observations of others; and finally, reflection (or theorizing) on the results, leading to correlation of this piece of investigation with the sum of human knowledge, perhaps occasionally affecting human activity. The so-called \"book sciences\"\nEmploy methods in no way essentially different from those long approved in the so-called \"natural sciences.\" All of them alike depend on careful study of previous work as an initial step and on the publication of results as a final process. No facile popular division can separate \u201cbook-knowledge\u201d from \u201cexperimental research.\u201d Experiment without \u201cbook-knowledge\u201d is generally not research in the true sense, even though it occasionally leads an Edison into discoveries of untold value to the world. There is, notwithstanding, a justification for this distinction popular among college students. The manner of teaching the natural sciences has been completely revolutionized in the last forty years. Every one knows that subjects formerly taught from textbooks are now taught chiefly in laboratories. Emphasis is now laid on accurate observation, correct recording, and analytical thinking.\ninference from observation is the ability to report the sum succinctly and truthfully. An elaborate equipment is necessary for teaching natural sciences. Each student is considered an embryo Pasteur or Rowland and is laboriously induced into scientific methods by requiring him to develop manual dexterity in the use of instruments and training him to produce neat and correct notebooks. The mass of students is found in elementary courses. Only the smaller number resulting from a process of natural or at least academic selection ever gets to the \"journal club\" stage and becomes personally aware of the existence of the enormous and multifarious record of scientific knowledge. The method of\nteaching should influence students' conception of subject-matter is natural and inevitable. Elders should not give undue weight to manner and form of presentation. However, it is impossible to escape the conclusion that many a scientist thinks he is freed by the very nature of his work from a supposed taint of bookishness. He gives thanks that he is not, as other men, historians or philologists \u2013 or even this librarian. There is a real danger lurking in this attitude, and we are not without evidence that this tendency to pride oneself on being strictly a scientific and not a book man has bred a habitual attitude of neglect of the record side.\nThe scientific inquiry, which has been disastrous in too many instances, has led to the notion that apparatus and laboratories are the sole requirements for both instruction and research. This tendency, which I do not exaggerate, has made many people forget the long history of science and bred an attitude lacking in the historic sense. Without a sense of the historic setting of his work, a man is almost as helpless as one lacking a sense of humor. You cannot argue with one or the other! In fact, I dare go farther and affirm that only by combining the historical and experimental methods can we effectively conduct scientific research.\nAny work of first-rate importance be produced in any field of knowledge. By this time, I fear you may be saying to yourselves that whatever the platitude of research may mean as applied to bibliography, the bibliographer is in truth indulging in platitudes! No one need set up a man of straw for the pleasure of knocking him over. There is no point to my contention if it be true that students of the natural sciences in America have rigorously employed both the historical and the experimental method. The great leaders have undoubtedly done just that. But how many great leaders have we produced in America? May not one reason for our surpassing excellence in the practical arts and our rather scant array of great names in pure science lie exactly in the absence of the historical record of science from American institutions?\nIt is difficult, perhaps impossible, to obtain a correct historical perspective without a really good and strong library to furnish the means of study. No amount of second-hand information will ever take the place, for the real student, of original documents. This is just as true in the pure and applied sciences as it is in history, economics or letters. Imagine an astronomer trying to carry on intelligent research in the observational field alone, without the great publications of the nineteenth century at his hand for previous study and occasional consultation. Yet that is precisely what scores of astronomers have done in this land, and are doing today. The example might be multiplied tenfold. Really good libraries of scientific books are scarce enough in America today. Before 1870 they were virtually non-existent.\nI did not exist, save perhaps at Harvard and the Astor Library in New York. No one of them is yet fully equipped to meet all the reasonable demands of scientists for a record of scientific progress. I speak from my own experience. For eight years I labored \u2013 too often in vain \u2013 to serve the scientists in various Washington bureaus with the books they needed. My work was in the third largest library in the world. This fact is significant.\n\nAmerica is not a nation alone \u2013 it is a continent. Distances are enormous. Because Henry E. Huntington has in San Gabriel, California, a very rare early English book on American fishes or plants, it does not follow that it is of much use to a Harvard student who requires the exact language of the original description of a particular species. The extraordinary rarity of books in different parts of the country makes it difficult to provide scientists with the materials they need.\nThe collection of early botanical works in Notre Dame University's library is not easily accessible to botanists at the Bureau of Plant Industry. Two specific instances illustrate the extent of this land's size. You are aware of the challenge of traveling to Washington during summer's hot weather, yet you must make the journey in vacation time to consult a volume only found in the Library of Congress and too rare or fragile to lend. The situation differs significantly in Europe. No university in the British Isles is as distant from the British Museum as Ann Arbor is from New York or Washington. The journey from Aberystwyth or more remote Aberdeen takes less time than from here to Albany. No French university professor is as far in time from the Bibliotheque Nationale as we are from our national library.\nIn Germany and Austria, libraries are relatively near universities. The Prussian State Library and the great libraries at Vienna are closer than in our western and southern colleagues. A scholar can find all they need between the two largest libraries in the world. The contrast in this country and Canada is significant regarding these distances and their impact on American scholarship. Up to around 1900, there were few strong scientific libraries in America, where the record of science could be traced precisely. However, there has been a startling change since the opening of this century. We have much more to do. We can overcome the challenges.\nWe have overcome obstacles of distance and youth through further heroic efforts. We have made significant progress and now have over a dozen strong libraries from an absolute standard. They continue to grow stronger every day. We have specialized libraries in various scientific fields, the most notable being the great medical library of the Surgeon General's Office in Washington. We have advanced library technique and library service far beyond European practice. However, we have not yet developed to the point where the historic sense is necessarily fostered and the historic instinct adequately satisfied. This will come with time. Meanwhile, instruction may perhaps take note of this changed situation and address it.\nFor the proper improvement of resources in the way of books, instruction in historic method and the use of books as tools is impossible without really good libraries. It is folly to expect students, even advanced students of high promise, to acquire a proper attitude toward their predecessors and contemporaries without the publications of both at hand in full numbers. It is useless, or nearly so, to teach exact methods of ascertaining the present state of knowledge about any particular problem when you know it is being worked on in New Zealand and South Africa, and your library lacks the New Zealand and South African transactions and journals. I need not dwell on this painful fact. You know more about it than I do. I suggest, therefore, that the production of truly strong men in history should focus on improving libraries.\nYour various lines of study depend to a considerable degree on a sufficient provision of books in our libraries here on this campus. That provision depends on many factors \u2014 money is just one of them, as I hope to show you in the course of these remarks.\n\nFor the publication of the results of observation in the field of science has taken many (and frequently strange) forms. We ordinarily think of books as the record of science, just books \u2014 perhaps unconsciously influenced by the manufacture or the perusal of textbooks. Ordinary monographs of the textbook type do make up the staple contents of bookstore stocks and ordinary library shelves. But they are perhaps the least important element in the complicated record of science. They are too generally compilations \u2014 not the results of original research. And their tendency is to lag behind the advance of knowledge.\n\nBesides books, there are numerous other forms of publication. There are the reports of research societies, the records of proceedings of meetings, the transactions of learned societies, the abstracts of scientific papers, and the like. These are often more valuable to the student than the monographs, for they contain the latest results of research, and are therefore more up-to-date.\n\nThere are also the periodicals, which are perhaps the most important of all. They are the most up-to-date source of scientific information, and they are the most accessible. They are published at regular intervals, and they cover a wide range of subjects. They are the lifeblood of scientific research, and they are the most valuable resource for the student of science.\n\nIn conclusion, then, while books are an essential element in the record of science, they are not the only one. There are many other forms of publication, each with its own advantages and disadvantages. The student of science must be familiar with all of them, and must know how to use them effectively.\nThe accumulation of large and imposing monographs on shelves may have contributed to the neglect of the historic aspect of scientific inquiry, as alluded to earlier. The large monograph is the exception, remaining valuable and well-regarded long after smaller books have passed into the limbo of things with merely historical interest. However, the expensive monographs in some scientific fields, such as Audubon's Birds of North America and von Humboldt's monumental publications, have been so costly that they were known only by a favored few. I consider this costliness, in relation to American libraries (until recently), a significant factor in the neglect of older literature. It has simply cost too much to be known by the average person.\nThe most particularized form of monograph is the doctoral thesis. Most people I have met have lost interest in these within a few years after completing their own, which are promptly forgotten by their colleagues. It is hard to get money for many dissertations, particularly thin German products. The more extended French dissertations usually masquerade as real books. Historically, doctoral theses have great value, particularly those printed before 1800. Few people recall the pleasing habit of earlier centuries, which practically compelled the candidate respondens to pay for the publication of their praises under the guise of a doctoral dissertation. A few years ago, a committee on botanical nomenclature, or rather its members residing in Washington,\nThe disserations of Linnaeus' pupils tormented me, as they claimed these contained some of his best work. An intriguing quest became exciting when I discovered a bundle of these much-desired Upsala dissertations among several thousand Smithsonian exchanges from Sweden. With the generous use of the photostat, reproducing copies from Harvard Library and the Torrey Botanical Club, the series was completed, and the committee was supplied with the original descriptions essential for determining nomenclature.\n\nOne of the extremely important groups, frequently denied to our budding scientists, is that formed by the publications of museums worldwide. Their catalogs and series, monographs and bulletins, are invaluable resources.\nPublished by important museums are, in a very real sense, the foundation stones in many branches of science. Not only the great museums such as the British Museum, the Berlin group, the National Museum at Washington, the Peabody Museum at Cambridge issue vitally important publications. Local and special museums have issued publications both serial and monographic, which become of vital importance the minute a piece of work done there demands them. You can never foretell when one of these will seem to some professor exactly the one book in the world whose absence from our shelves is fairly blocking his studies. He could not tell you himself a week before his need suddenly arises that he would ever care for such a report or catalog. But he can make his wants known without any difficulty when the demand comes.\nWhat has seemed a fairly good library up to this morning instantly changes to a very mediocre establishment in the afternoon after a consultation of the catalog. It is a great pleasure to report that for the past five years, the income of the Octavia Bates Bequest has been primarily devoted to the purchase of museum publications, beginning with those of the British Museum. We could use a permanent fund twice as large to good purpose in supplementing this work, which up to this time has only begun. Museum publications are generally issued in limited numbers and at high prices. It is a serious task to secure them. But it is easier compared to the job of getting the publications of expeditions. There is a peculiar fate which attaches to the printing and editing of the scientific results of expeditions of all kinds.\nSome members publish popular narratives that frequently sell well, particularly if notoriety or celebrity attaches to the expedition. These quickly make their way into libraries, as evidenced by the numerous well-known accounts of polar expeditions. In contrast, the publication of scientific results follows a different course. These are invariably the work of different men. The labor of preparation requires vastly more time for some subjects than for others. Parts of volumes appear from time to time \u2013 members of the expedition go off on other expeditions with their first work half-done or half-published. Editors change or die. A fire in a store-room or a residence destroys another's notes \u2013 or even the specimens themselves. Years pass and the expedition's publications are still unfinished \u2013 perhaps they are never completed.\nVolumes remain unbound due to missing parts never issued, but still hoped for. Publishers fail and the stock is sold for paper. Governments grow weary and withdraw subsventions \u2013 then vote them again. Heaven blesses a few scientific expeditions with capable members, vigilant editors, a government's purse, and completion of publication within a few years. But they are few. I could tell you tale after tale of heart-breaking delays, inconsistencies, changes of forms, failures, deaths \u2013 and all involving untold trouble for the librarian who must first get these things and then take care of them. Altogether a difficult and perhaps a useless job. But then \u2013 remember the momentous results of some expeditions and voyages; yes, even of some which have never been completely published.\nI. The Wilkes Exploring Expedition: A Notable Scientific Publication\n\nRecall a few examples: La Perouse, The Challenger, The Beagle. Need we go on? Let's consider one instance - the Wilkes Exploring Expedition. Its history is well-known, the famous controversy over the Antarctic Continent, the numerous narratives, the slow emergence of the stately folios containing the scientific results. This was the first large-scale scientific publication by the United States government, and an entire evening could be spent in intriguing detail on its vicissitudes. I'll mention but one volume to demonstrate its significance: Dana's great work on the Zoophytes. Seventy years after its appearance, it remains fundamental. However, how few libraries own a copy of the original text and plates! Printed in only 200 copies, never sold, distributed solely by:\n\nThe Record of Science\nresolution  of  Congress,  what  chance  has  there  been \nfor  the  newer  libraries  to  secure  a  copy  for  their \nclientele?  To  be  sure,  not  all  expeditions  encounter \nsuch  a  series  of  accidents  in  publication  as  this  of \nWilkes \u2014 but  as  a  class  they  present  a  most  difficult \nproblem.  They  are  alike  hard  to  get  when  issued, \nslow  to  appear,  slower  to  be  finished,  costly  and  even \n(occasionally)  not  sold  at  all,  but  only  given  to  a  select \nfew.  Later,  years  later,  the  task  is  much  harder. \nIf  I  were  given  a  round  sum  and  told  to  get  in  three \nyears  all  the  important  scientific  expedition  publica\u00ac \ntions  of  the  past  hundred  years \u2014 I  should  decline  to \npromise  success  in  that  time \u2014 perhaps  even  in  five \nyears.  But  I  can  think  of  but  few  efforts  so  well \nworth  attempting. \nIf  expeditions  present  difficulties  alike  to  the \nlibrarian  and  the  scientist,  what  shall  we  say  of  inter\u00ac \nNational congresses mark the progress of research in many lines. They are absolutely needed, but they are also very hard to get. There is no good list of them, even the brief list issued about a year ago is most incomplete. Congresses seldom have permanent offices and officers. They are held at irregular intervals, generally in a different place each time they meet. If one attends, he generally gets the proceedings. But very seldom does any library get a notice of the meeting in advance. Usually, the papers and proceedings are published in the place where the congress meets \u2013 Madrid one year, three years later at Washington or Moscow or Stockholm, or where you please. The publisher varies with each move of the congress. An attempt to place a systematic collection of the proceedings in some central library has not been successful.\nAn order for subsequent issues usually fails in execution. Three or five years is a long time for a secretary to carry an order. So if some professor from Michigan goes to the geological congress at Brussels this summer, we may get on the mailing list \u2013 but otherwise we probably shall not \u2013 despite our efforts. The difficulty is vastly increased by the habit of European governments of giving subventions to private publishers to aid in printing reports of congresses instead of issuing them through the governmental printing office. So they may appear in the publisher's list as his own publications \u2013 or they may never be listed anywhere. It cannot be denied that the hunting down of international congresses adds zest to the librarian's life \u2013 but when you are held accountable by science for the results of your hunting, it ceases.\nTo be of interest. Then, local societies and scholars also have a pleasing habit of presenting volumes to the congress as a sort of testimony of their interest and their own activities. These are almost never to be confused with the Report of the Congress itself - except in the minds of booksellers who manage to introduce no end of confusion into orders as a consequence. You may imagine, therefore, that international congresses are a bugbear to library folk - a sore topic. You may also imagine my own delight in securing over one hundred and fifty reports of various international congresses on my book-buying trip last fall. Few acquisitions have given me more solid satisfaction. And yet, I suppose I have simply created more trouble for myself - every department will now demand that these reports be made accessible.\nAbsolutely complete! In the language of the street, \"I can see my finish!\" Partial success always brings its own penalty.\n\nWho originated the idea of the \u201cAcademy\u201d? Whoever he was, whether Plato in the groves of Academe, or some Renaissance imitator, or even the gentleman who conceived the Royal Society, he let loose on mankind an institution making for publication \u2014 if we appraise it in no higher terms. And particularly in the nineteenth century did the academy flourish in print. Here again Europe has an advantage over America, and an advantage more of age than of enterprise, of geographical smallness as contrasted with continental sweep and range. Most scientists in Europe have easy access to files of academic publications, files which have been slowly accumulated with the passing years. Here we have had to work hard THE RECORD OF SCIENCE.\nIn the past two decades, we have established half a dozen centers where fairly complete series may be found. This process is still ongoing and increasingly costly each year. But we must continue and complete it. The interests of American scholarship simply require it of us. The greater academies are now well represented at Michigan, with some gaps, it is true, but still with full ranks for the most part. What to do about the minor academies and societies from the whole world? That is a vexing question to which I may refer again in a few moments. I pause merely to remark that a minor academy is minor only so long as you do not want its transactions in your own work.\n\nLast in this array of forms of scientific publication comes the largest group of all, newest and most insistently demanded - the journals. To me, the rise of journals is significant.\nThe special periodical devoted to a particular interest group is one of the most significant social phenomena of the past fifty years. Let no one here think that this tendency to periodical publication is confined to science or to learned groups. By no means \u2014 the brick-layer, the barber, the banker, the baker, the builder, the book-binder (to keep to one letter only) all have their journals just as much as the biologist, the botanist, the biochemist, or even the bibliographer. And they all have to be ordered, entered, paid for, cataloged, bound, and stored.\n\nThe Record of Science\nPeriodical publication is the one modern form for telling the world what everyone has done and what other people think about it. We take in over twenty-eight hundred journals in the University Library. A goodly number \u2014 do you say? Well, it is just about [sic]\nHalf of what other libraries of our size subscribe for, and about a quarter of what the Library of Congress receives each year. Perhaps the medical faculty is satisfied with its four hundred and sixty-six journals received. But I fear no other group really has enough. Certainly that great department loosely known as the social sciences does not have at hand here anything like an adequate supply. I see no end to this modern form of publication. Every quarter I read with sadly disappointed hope the record of \"Births and Deaths in the Periodical World\" appearing in the Bulletin of Bibliography. The births always outnumber the deaths and the marriages of journals. My one consolation is my firm conviction that wood-pulp paper has a very definite limit of stability. But then I reflect that some chemist is sure to discover some process of preserving this wood-pulp.\nThe investigator requires an extensive collection of journals, transactions, reviews, and proceedings. He cannot obtain them all at hand and in bound form currently. This issue leads us to consider supplying the full record of science to scientists. It is not a local problem, but a national one. Finances, time, and competition pose difficulties. American libraries face competition from those in Japan, China, South America, South Africa, New Zealand, and Australia for the required material.\nBefore it was published in but a small edition, running from a couple of hundred in the case of certain very costly books, to a thousand or more for certain journals. In their beginnings, journals and transactions are frequently issued in only sufficient numbers to meet the actual number of subscribers. You all know how the wastebasket yawns for odd numbers, and what chances of destruction stray copies must run between careless or absent-minded owners, housemaids, janitors, the frugal housewife and the rag-man. Wars and disasters intervene to reduce the numbers of copies in existence. I have no hesitation in saying that the possibility of securing sets of certain very much valued books and journals is diminishing even to the vanishing point with each year that goes by. The world war was destructive of reserves, caused restriction in the number of copies.\nThe record of OE science greatly increased the cost of printed matter of all kinds. In some cases, no copies were printed beyond the actual home demand, disregarding foreign or enemy subscribers. I know of one American journal which printed only fifteen fewer copies than its regular subscription list last December due to a sudden price increase in paper and used only the stock on hand. This type of thing makes securing sets a difficult task. The primary source of supply is the libraries of deceased professors as they come on the market. Professors who own and bind long files of journals and transactions are becoming scarcer due to the high cost of living and the decreasing amount of shelf space in modern houses and apartments. The necessity of quick action cannot be overstressed.\nNot a question any longer of waiting for a favorable opportunity. Rather, we are faced with the necessity of getting what we need whenever the chance arises. The competition from newer countries and newer libraries is keener every year. Thirty years ago, there was no large scientific library west of us \u2014 not one. Now we may mention the Universities of Chicago, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Nebraska, California, Leland Stanford, Washington, and the John Crerar Library, without even exhausting the list of institutions of the first rank. The record of science for special libraries in a small field are equally dangerous competitors for the valuable books and sets in their own line. In those same thirty years, South America, South Africa, Japan, Australia, and Canada have emerged as significant competitors.\nI have come into the field eager to provide my scientists with the record of science. McGill University bought just before me last fall very many sets of journals long on our list of desiderata. Japanese buyers had been everywhere with the government purse to draw on. The fact is that we must both hasten our own purchases and combine with our neighbors if American learning is to be kept on an equality with that of Europe.\n\nThe need for cooperation and a policy looking to the elimination of certain forms of competition is brought home to me more keenly each year. We should be able, it would seem, to agree on certain fields which we can cultivate intensively, securing everything of moment in them, as far as we can raise the funds. Certain general works, general society transactions, journals of wide appeal we must all cultivate.\nBut must we all buy the publications of smaller and less important societies? Can half a dozen sets spread over the country suffice with the development of interlibrary loan and photo-duplicating machines? We might all save money, keep down prices, gain in the total number of sets available, and lend freely between ourselves. This matter seems highly important - even vital to our success. It has been much discussed among librarians. There would be small difficulty in arriving at a policy, if it were a matter to be decided by librarians alone. But it concerns far more deeply the faculties of the various universities.\nLibrarians cannot agree on limiting our fields of specialization in universities and their governing boards. We cannot gain adherents to a policy of limitation, form an agreement through a joint committee of professors, and secure the consent of boards of regents and trustees. The facts are clear and patent. We cannot all have everything; there isn't enough to go around, nor is there enough money to buy everything. In common sense, we must stop trying to get everything in each library and go for the things we can reasonably expect to secure in cooperation with our neighbors. If anyone doubts the success of this plan, I refer him to the results of the agreement between the Chicago libraries made in 1895 and carried out since then.\nThe lasting benefit of scholarship warrants entering into a similar pact with neighboring libraries.\n\nTHE RECORD OF SCIENCE\n\nWhat is our current position? We have no neighboring universities. We are halfway between Cornell and Buffalo on the east and Chicago and Northwestern on the west. Western Reserve, Ohio State, and Oberlin to the south are in a manner comparable with our collections but not yet formidable rivals. There is practically nothing north of us \u2014 I am speaking now of libraries whose chief interest is the furthering of scholarship. We have two large public libraries fairly near \u2014 Detroit and Cleveland, both owning certain valuable special collections, and both likely to specialize in technology and the applied sciences. There are a few specialized libraries of distinction.\nWe have fewer neighbors to rely on for aid than eastern universities and those in the northern Mississippi Valley. However, there is no reason why we should attempt to duplicate and surpass collections such as the White Collection of Folk-lore in the Cleveland Public Library or the Burton Collection of local history and genealogy in the Detroit Public Library. We should agree with Chicago libraries and those of Ohio (and perhaps even western New York and Ontario) as to certain fields of learning which they will leave to us, and in which we shall not aim for more than general works.\nI  should  like  to  see  the  Association  of  University \nProfessors,  or  some  other  body  representing  various \nuniversities,  take  up  this  problem  in  a  practical \nfashion.  The  inter-library  loan  and  the  photostat  put \nthe  resources  of  each  library  at  the  disposal  of  its \nneighbors.  Why  neglect  so  obvious  a  step  as  con\u00ac \nference  and  agreement  on  subjects  of  specialization? \nBut,  of  course,  when  it  comes  to  self-denying  or\u00ac \ndinances,  only  the  men  concerned  may  pass  them. \nIt  is  not  for  me  to  say  what  any  group  of  professors \nshall  forego.  It  is  \u201cup  to\u201d  them  in  the  interest  of \nscience  as  a  whole  and  of  its  progress  in  our  land.  I \ncan  merely  point  out  one  very  obvious  step  to  be \ntaken \u2014 and  perhaps  push  a  little  towards  that  step. \nOur  present  situation  here  at  Michigan  is  better \nthan  it  was,  but  it  is  far  from  satisfactory.  We  have \nA good list, for example, of journals and society transactions, but we have far too many gaps in the sets, gaps that are very hard to fill. We have a fair lot of expedition publications - likewise badly defective. We have a few of the great monumental publications, and very incomplete sets of congresses and museum publications. I have already indicated that our collections of monographs are reasonably large. But we are distinctly worse off in the pure sciences and applied sciences than in literary or American history. We are far worse off as regards economics or philosophy than in scientific fields. We have a faculty and a student body probably third in size in America. But the library ranks about eighth among universities in number of volumes. We have, therefore, very much to add beforehand.\nOur book collections correspond to our size in students and faculties. Harvard, for instance, has more than four times as many books as we do, Yale three times as many, and Columbia and Chicago about twice our holdings. This is a situation not to be remedied in a day \u2013 even were adequate funds in hand, as I have tried to show. All the more reason, therefore, why we should think clearly and plan wisely, and should cooperate with our neighbors.\n\nThe country as a whole is in about the same relative state as regards the record of scientific work worldwide as is the University of Michigan. That is, by diligent effort we can find the obscure and the rare, and without too much trouble can secure the obvious and ordinary run of books. But taken as a whole, the country is decidedly worse off than most European lands. Our scientists are at a distinct disadvantage.\nThe disadvantage of books in the United States, compared to those of Great Britain, France, Germany, or even Italy, can only be overcome by the most careful bibliographic work and generous lending.\n\nRegarding science, this brings me to the aspect of our topic that was likely most on my friend's mind when he spoke so disparagingly of bibliography. Most people overlook the practical and administrative side of the bibliographer's labors. They view him merely as one who records what other men have done and said. They forget that he is also the gatherer of material and, to a large extent, its interpreter. However, the major function of the scientific bibliographer is that of indexing the record of science once it has been compiled. This is a highly technical job.\nThe text is already relatively clean and readable. I'll make some minor corrections and remove unnecessary line breaks and whitespaces:\n\nVery well done in certain fields, and very poorly done in others. Perhaps medicine has the best indexes. The great catalog of the Surgeon-General\u2019s Office in Washington forms one of the most remarkable pieces of index work ever attempted. Recently appearing work in the world of medicine. Both have proven frightfully expensive. Both are due to the energy of one man, John Shaw Billings, and the extraordinary skill and devoted patience of his associate and biographer, Fielding H. Garrison. Neither has ever paid expenses, and both have had a hard struggle to survive, despite government aid and the purse of great foundations. Even now we are threatened with a curtailment, if not the ending, of the catalog. Such books are very costly, but without them, science must halt its progress.\n\nThe Record of Science.\nThe pure sciences had no such American record as these two in medicine. The Royal Society\u2019s Catalogue of Scientific Papers, appearing years after their publication, is the most conspicuous British effort. And then, after years of incubation, came the great international undertaking known as the International Catalog of Scientific Literature, bearing the Royal Society\u2019s imprint and prepared by regional bureaus under an international council. This was to begin with the twentieth century and to be the final word in all branches of pure science. Unfortunately, the world war brought it to a standstill, probably to an end. But it was already breaking down of its own weight before the war. The plain speaking of the few librarians who were given any chance to be heard between 1895 and 1900 was utterly disregarded. They insisted, if I remember correctly, on the need for a more efficient and comprehensive cataloging system.\nWithout some provision for cumulation of entries at intervals of about five years, the scheme would defeat its own ends. Their prophecy was amply justified before the war brought a halt to the already huge series of annual volumes. The set remains a monument to the difficulties of the task of an adequate index to the published work of scientists. A few attempts at overcoming this difficulty by card bibliographies have been made. Of these, the most conspicuous is the work of the Concilium Bibliographicum in the field of zoology, paleontology, and anatomy \u2014 an undertaking likewise due to an American, the late H.H. Field. This is, as you doubtless know, a classified bibliography printed on cards, arranged in very minute sub-divisions of the decimal classification. When you once learn how.\nTo use it is most valuable. It usually takes about a year to train a girl to file the cards, and how long it may take a zoologist or anatomist to learn how to use them to full advantage, I cannot say. This bibliography was also stopped by the war, but will soon be resumed with money supplied by the Rockefeller Foundation. I know of no other current card subject bibliography on a similar scale.\n\nThe tendency has been, on the whole, to develop special annual reviews in rather minute sub-divisions of the general field. Of these, by far the most conspicuous have been the Jahresberichte appearing in Germany. There was formerly no end to these special bibliographies \u2014 often accompanied by critical notes on the scope or value of the works listed. They, too, were mostly stopped or curtailed by the war.\nVarious efforts have been made to revive or produce new bibliographical reviews. You each know your own favorite, but do you know the difficulties under which they have labored, which are nearly fatal at the present day? The chaotic condition of the world from an economic or political viewpoint is well matched as regards the record of science. Science. Publication of results is still slow and defective; indexing of publications is more so. The obligation rests on America to provide both the means of publication and the proper clue to recorded work. I cannot stress this too strongly, as I necessarily take a broad and general view of the whole situation. If the needed indexing of scientific (and indeed all learned) literature is to be done at all, it must be financed in this country.\nI can think of nothing more important for the attention of the American Association or the Advancement of Science than this very problem of adequate successors to those special and general indexes which have been so useful and which are now either suspended or definitely dead. May I, as a layman, venture a suggestion to you who are experts? I feel that most of you ignore in the organization of your work of instruction any presentation of two things which help to mark a scientist of real distinction. The first of these is a knowledge of how to use to the full the various bibliographic tools provided. It seems to me that such instruction in their use is a real necessity \u2014 perhaps not for elementary classes, but certainly for any study of an advanced character. The loss which comes from an ignorance of what has been done on any given subject is considerable.\nThe record of science faces problems: loss of time, unnecessary labor, discouragement. This loss can be avoided through simple means, such as full knowledge of previously published results. The gain from this knowledge is immeasurable and distinguishes the successful from those who start haltingly on any task. The complexity of bibliographic indexing in most fields necessitates formal instruction in handling bibliographic tools. No one ignores instruction in laboratory method. Should he overlook the need for instruction in bibliographic method? The second of my two marks of distinction is a broad, general view of the history, methods, and scope of his subject - what the Germans used to call \"encyclopedic.\" Few men are willing to take time from their own particular research to lecture on this.\nWhat makes a master create disciples? What qualities enable some men to found a real school? Is it not precisely that grasp of method, that sense of relations of parts to the whole, that historic view and that prophetic insight which comes from a deliberate attempt to survey the whole of one's subject, to weigh its importance, to contemplate not only its past but its present and future? My suggestion is that students should not be left to pick up knowledge haphazardly, but should be taught by one whose reading has been wide, whose grasp of the whole subject is firm, whose judgment is matured, and whose experience entitles him to speak with authority.\nWe have made a fair beginning at providing men and women with the printed record of the more immediate past. We have at least the rudiments of a good collection of the important work from remote periods. We know precisely the direction our buying should take, and more than a little about the difficulties in our path. We are ready to do our part in any cooperative scheme for furnishing this Great Lakes region with a fuller scientific record.\nWe know the imperfections of our bibliographic tools, and we are ready to contribute to this field with our own share of cooperative labor. In other words, we are aware of our defects and are trying to overcome them with time, money, and perhaps wisdom.\n\nWhat of the future? In twenty years, assuming no great disaster hinders our progress, we may expect to find here the major academic and society publications in absolute completeness, available to a large region. We may further expect at least double the present amount of journals, both current numbers and bound files. We shall be part of a regional group of libraries, owning our share of the minor society publications and journals.\nIn a fairly complete whole, ready for rapid use, distributed by air-mail in response to wireless telephone requests, every few hours, books would be available to a man in 1930 here, just as easily as from Columbus or Chicago - that is, in six to twenty-four hours. We shall have a complete printed list, kept up to date, of all periodicals and transactions (perhaps all the books) available in the libraries of our region and the whole United States. (This is almost in sight now! With two hundred thousand dollars, it could be done in two years' time!) We should also have bibliographic equipment which will furnish with minimum effort a practically complete list of all articles and books on any topic, arranged in inverse chronological order, the latest.\nThis is solely a matter of organization and money. It represents the marshalling of a sufficient number of trained people to supplement work already begun on methods already worked out. It means applying the method of storing linotype bars and using them as needed, for example, in the cumulation decade by decade of the Royal Society\u2019s International Catalog. This work could be organized for the future in three years, and printing of the first two decades of the twentieth century finished in five or less. I am less sure that it will come than I am confident of the future provision in the way of books. But if and when the key to the record exists, then no budding scientist may fail of confidence in his start, or the help in his labors as they go on year by year which comes from knowing that the work of past scientists is available to him.\nI. Understanding Past and Present Efforts to Comprehend the Universe\n\nWe will have at our disposal, not only the printed record of human attempts to understand the universe, but also an effective and useful key to that record. This will enable us to reverse the old saying, and affirm that he who reads may run.\n\nII. Fashions in Books\n\nWe have all, I suppose, experienced the habit of lecturers, who begin as close to the Creation as their theme permits, and work their way down to the present age and the actual subject of discussion, often at a snail's pace. I have always sympathized with Mr. Justice Bradley of the Supreme Court of the United States, who once interrupted a prosy delver into past ages of the law with the remark, \"Sunday was declared a dies-non in 325 A.D. Suppose you begin there.\"\nBut a few reflections on fashion - the mode - cannot be avoided if we are to consider fashions in the world of letters. It has been well said that the tyranny of fashion holds us all in an unshakable grip. We can rise above the current mores and the rigid conventions, but we cannot deny their influence.\n\n(From the May Day address at the Wisconsin Library School, 1922. Published in Wisconsin Library Bulletin, June, 1922.)\nThe average man follows laws of convention and style with great effort. He criticizes women's devotion to passing fads, particularly in dress, while she is a relatively free and unfettered being compared to him. If I had appeared here today in the most comfortable flannel-shirted costume, I doubt I would have been allowed past the door. My hostess would have been horrified and dismayed by my ill-bred failure to dress appropriately for the occasion. A stiffly starched band of linen encircles the neck of each man here. He wears uncomfortable trousers that must be creased to gain admission to polite society (In my boyhood, they must not be creased!). He struggles to wear this attire.\nTwo full decades passed, and he emancipated himself from a long and stiff shirt-bosom and stiffer cuffs of white. However, he still wears the most conventionally shaped coat, waistcoat, and shoes. He is essentially like every other man in his appearance, save for differences in his color. His choice is limited by convention to neutral tones of grey, brown, and blue, or somber black. The man who, following his own ideas of color effects, should appear in a canary-yellow, a pink, or even a white suit of clothes on this platform would be laughed to scorn and set down as a hopeless poseur. If he should even allow himself the luxury of white shoes in winter or dispense with that band of silk or satin labeled a neck-tie, he would be counted eccentric beyond words. We men may not indulge in such deviations.\nIn the fling of fashion at women as slaves to convention, who flit from trend to trend, victims, prey. Rather, I suppose, should we envy them the effective freedom that one year dispenses with high collars and bares the throat to the wintry breeze, and the next summer swathes and conceals in furs the same shapely neck and shoulders.\n\nAnd yet, the temptation is strong. What mere man has not regarded the \u201cdear creatures\u201d with amused tolerance at rather frequent intervals? I walked, on the day these lines were written, behind a group of four women students on the Michigan Campus, and I surveyed their garb with amazement \u2014 with \"hadmiration amounting to ha!\" Now, no man can ever describe women's clothes \u2014 to the satisfaction of other women, \u2014 but there were certain features of the attire of this quartet that were striking.\nThe conspicuous group, I hasten to say \u2014 which even a librarian who knows nothing of feminine terms may recall. Their hats were small - sensibly and fetchingly small, to the masculine eye. They all showed a very visible, more or less permanent \"wave.\" Each of them wore a short fur coat - each a different color - which reached nearly to the knee. Below this was a modest strip of skirt. Then silk hose - Oh, very much silk! - and then what in my youth were known as farmers' arctics - now termed \u201cgaloshes\u201d\u2014 two pairs buckled, two flopping. The only things in common with the outward appearance of these misses and my own classmates of thirty years since were the notebooks and textbooks carried under the left arm. But I have no doubt, from very vivid recollections, that the girls of 1892 who wore broad hats, tight bodices.\nYoung women with large sleeves and full skirts, which had to be held up at every crossing and mudpuddle, and who furtively sported rubber boots in very bad weather, were vivacious and keen, up-to-date, and thoroughly alive, getting the most socially and intellectually out of their university career. But a visitor \u2013 not from Mars, necessarily \u2013 let us say from Central Africa where clothing of any sort is a most shadowy concession to convention \u2013 might well question, if he saw young women garbed in the two modes of but thirty years apart, whether they were of the same race, the same class, fired by the same purposes, and alike to prove good mothers, and good citizens. He would be wrong. There is no great change in fashions under the shifting garb of conventional costume. Men are men, and women are women \u2013 and never the twain shall understand the other.\nAnd so the world of letters had changing fashions from the day when the convenient clay tablet replaced the more elderly fashion of carving on stone for ordinary use in ancient Babylon. I have no doubt there were objections to the innovation and bitter references to the \"good old days\" when solid comfort could be taken in the imperishable record on alabaster slab and marble stele. I shall not weary you with a catalog of the various fashions in writing materials and surfaces, a dissertation on the stylus, the reed, the brush, the quill. Nor shall I trace the history of papyrus and parchment, of rolls and codices, of wax tablets and leaden discs. It is a fascinating topic, and had we time, we might find interest even in the changing fashions of letters \u2014 in the disappearance of ancient forms and the emergence of new ones.\nFashions in Books\n\nThe development of new scripts even in that single beta of Cadmus, which has given letters to the Western world \u2013 yes, and to lands undreamed of by those Greeks whose alphabet underlies that of Europe and the two Americas. Manuscript books had their fashions of writing, of ornament and of form, styles so pronounced and so significant that a tyro can, after a little practice, distinguish a Latin manuscript script written in Visigothic Spain from one written at about the same period in Ireland, France, or Italy. An expert can ordinarily fix the date with reasonable accuracy and point out the precise region in which a manuscript was written, though it bears no mark of time or place. A student of illumination can say with truth that a certain manuscript was written in France or Italy, though decorated by an artist from a different region.\nAn English artist can identify the fashion of writing and decorating prevalent in a certain age and region. The influence of the schoolmaster is hard to overestimate, producing such uniformity that one can tell a letter written between 1840 and 1870 from one written before or since, based on the handwriting. In dealing with handwritten books, the conservative influence of fashion is even more pronounced and visible.\n\nThe early printers, as I demonstrated here four years ago, entered into a competition with scribes. They followed in type the fashion of writing of the time and place with great fidelity in an effort to secure business. It was not until well into the sixteenth century that fashions in print began to depart from the styles of handwriting.\nTo set up independent modes of their own, you can tell a book printed before 1500 in Germany, France, or Italy at almost the first glance. An incunabulum is no more like an English one than a typical Spanish building of 1490 is like an English structure of the same date. There are occasional exceptions which only tend to prove the rule of uniformity. Much of the study of early printing, then, is a study of fashions in type and in the shape of books. It can only be followed successfully by one who has made an extensive study of contemporary manuscripts. This is true of early book-illustration as well. One needs to know the history of the illumination of manuscript books, of engraving, and of painting to understand how the fashions in book illustration by means of woodcuts arose and changed.\nThere are certain physical characteristics of early printed books which are perfectly apparent to anyone who has handled and seen many of them. These are very hard to describe. There is no norm from which I can depart to offer a scale of exact measurement. In these days when measurements and tests are being taken of everyone\u2019s ability to think, to repeat, to act, to dream, and so on, it is humiliating to confess our inability to measure a book as to pronounce it at once the product of a certain press in a certain city on a certain date. Let us hope there are none of those new-fangled psychologists and educationists present to deride \u2013 or perhaps even to appraise \u2013 the speaker. But as one knows his friends \u2013 even his mother \u2013 by manner and characteristics rather than by millimeters and inches.\nYou can identify books from the first fifty years of printing, the seventeenth century, early nineteenth century, and so on. You can find them on a bookseller's or library's shelves among the common herd. The fashion may be hard to describe, and the characteristics may be minute and almost intangible, but they are there, and one recognizes them. They may be concealed by new bindings, but even then they do not completely escape notice. However, contemporary dress books appear more nearly their own true selves. It is rare sport to hunt for incunabula, for books of the sixteenth century, for early English novels, for scientific journals, based on their outward shape and fashion. I have recently returned from three months of it, and I have been impressed anew by the fixity of book fashions, by their definiteness of difference.\nEvery once in a while, someone decries the great variety of sizes in which books are printed. Generally, such a person has an attractive scheme of uniformity to urge - all books to be reduced to one, or at most to two, sizes. Familiar arguments as to convenience and ease of storage, reduction of costs, and so forth are brought out and aired. There is no answer to these arguments, any more than there is any answer to the plausible and wholly sensible plans to dress all women in uniform in the interest of economy and efficiency.\n\nFashions in Books: Uniformity in Book Sizes\nIntelligence. But I notice that the ladies \u2014 even the employees of certain great corporations \u2014 continue to follow the changing styles of dress, and the books do the same in shape, size, and outward appearance. Changes in presses have had vastly more influence in changing the form of books than notions of style or ideas of harmonious proportion. Before the application of steam to printing, there was more variety, I think, than has been common since. But it is not true, as some mistakenly and carelessly affirm, that early books ran chiefly to folios, that the quarto was the prevailing seventeenth century form, and the pocket edition was a device of the nineteenth century. I have seen a small octavo printed by Gutenberg himself, small prayer books printed by the Giuntas in 1406, while it is notorious that the great Aldus Manutius introduced the octavo format in the late fifteenth century.\nThe first use of famous Italic type produced pocket editions of the classics. Huge folios issue from the press today, although less frequently than in the sixteenth century. The sizes of newspapers, for instance, have changed with the changing presses on which they have been printed. Fashion in book sizes, in book illustrations, in book bindings, have depended more on mechanical processes of book making than on the decisions of authors and publishers. The change from wood-engraving to photo-engraving (mostly a change for the worse) in the late nineteenth century is a typical case in point. If you wish a fascinating subject for a winter\u2019s study, let me urge you to follow the history of book binding \u2013 surely a study of fashion pure and simple.\nThe simple elements involved in covering and then decorating a book have lent themselves to an almost infinite variety of combinations. The materials are but few \u2014 leathers of various sorts and colors, pigments and gold for lettering and decorative designs, cloth and paper. But what a wealth of results! And how they group themselves into fashions of one or another age!\n\nThe solid and plain vellum with lettering in India ink, a style surely born of monastic poverty and stern simplicity, gives way to stamped vellum bindings of intricate design and often of high artistic merit. Vellum yields to morocco with all the possibilities of color and pattern furnished by a more pliable material which can be dyed successfully.\n\nThe graceful bands of the Grolieresque become the intricate and elaborate inlays of the nineteenth century.\nCentury. Special tools and forms mark the individual binders of note, while all the devices of heraldry enter to render elaborate the marking of ownership. Cloth and paper come in with the fashion on the part of publishers of furnishing the book in bound form to buyers, and come in to add to the beauty and variety of design and pattern. One may follow the fashions of an age or a country, he may study on the one hand ordinary commercial binding, and on the other the individual work of great artists among bookbinders. There is almost no limit to the search for historic form and artistic creation. Fashions in bindings old and new form a welcome side-path which the librarian, weary of \"catalog rules\" and \"reference\" questions, may pursue for his own refreshment while he labors at his humdrum routine. But all this, one may well say, is external.\nFashions in Books: The librarian approaches this topic from a different perspective than the university professor or man of letters. He must be more catholic in his standpoint, accepting all print used and preserved by men. He does not excessively exalt the trivial and inconsequential. However, as he is responsible for masses of books and pamphlets, both trivial and inconsequential from a historical perspective, he cannot exercise a merely selective judgment, ignoring the mass to single out a few choice products. Instead, his viewpoint is necessarily affected by the vast amount of material he encounters.\nA very wise bookseller once told me, \"One pamphlet, such as this on the cholera printed in 1728, is worth nothing - not a penny. But a collection of over eight hundred pamphlets on cholera printed between 1700 and 1900 is a Bibliotheca Cholerica. It has immense value in cash and in fact.\" In surveying book fashions, literary styles, and modes, the librarian cannot confine himself solely to the great exemplars of those changing ideals of the centuries. He must perforce see also the larger numbers and reckon not alone with Shakespeare and the great Elizabethans, but with the lesser lights of that time and of less glorious days. Indeed, it is probably a wise precaution for him to devote himself to some one man or one phase of a fashion because he sees so much of the other men and the other fashions.\nHe views book fashions, literary conventions, changing modes of expression, with both more sympathy and less impatience than his critical friends. Fashions in Books\n\nHe is likely to have a wider - if perchance a shallower - knowledge, to think in terms of thousands of volumes, even perhaps in terms of readers, who are generally ignored entirely by the historian of literature. His viewpoint is perhaps more philosophical, more historical, his enthusiasms and dislikes less intense and personal. He has to take care of - and even to promote the circulation of - many books which he knows to be the product of mediocre minds - fitted perhaps to current fashions, or even to fashions long dead.\n\nLike Solomon in Jim\u2019s phrase from the immortal pages of Huckleberry Finn, he is inclined at times.\n\"to be useful of children. They's plenty more. And so let us glance at just a few fashions in the long history of books. I have often wished someone would write a real history of the most unreal fashion in letters known to me \u2014 the so-called pastoral poetry. Was there ever another such case of the survival of a literary form due to the influence of one or two great names? Perhaps there may have been shepherds in that pleasant land of Greater Greece where Theocritus watched the burning sun of summer disappear in glowing haze behind the Sicilian hills, shepherds who sang simple songs of their loves and jealousies, of nymphs and fauns, of their goats and kids. But once the literary tradition was set by genius, what a deluge of purely fictitious, unspontaneous, wholly artificial poems overwhelmed mankind! Not Ver...\"\nThe sonorous eclogues of Gil, nor Milton's Lycidas can redeem the pastoral form with its flocks, swains, shepherds and goat herds, lambs and kids, shepherdesses and nymphs, fauns and dryads. Through Latin to Italian, Spanish, French, and English, even in the guttural strains of German and Dutch, the pastoral pipes, the love-lorn swains and their thin ditties resound for the ears of those who claim at least a tincture, a tinge of humane letters. And how little genuine poetry there is in the whole lot! Happily, form classification has almost disappeared from our libraries, otherwise, what a showing there would be of inane talk and feeble imitation masquerading as pastoral poetry. One occasionally hears some professor of literature say the pastoral as a form is dead. I wonder. No librarian, at least, would venture such a statement.\nWhich is really a prophecy that no future age will revert to Amyntas and Tityrus, to Chloe and Silvia, to pipes and goats and nymphs, is a rash prediction, born, I fear, of hope rather than of judgment. As safely might one say that the epic poem is dead \u2013 perhaps more safely, since epics seem to spring mainly from the primitive experiences of a race. But surveying the catastrophic events of the past decade, sensing even vaguely the portentous future struggles of races under the terrible conditions of modern warfare, who shall deny that there may yet be new epic experiences which shall be echoed in heroic verse? Since Milton, there has been no great epic written in any Western tongue; no bard has sung the strife of nations and the deeds of warriors in such strains as those of Virgil and the Song of Roland.\nBut no sane critic will predict that men shall be forever denied the hope of great poetry in the heroic mood. We and our children shall not be forever condemned to listen to free verse and have our standards set by the vacant spaces in popular magazines.\n\nFor truly \u2014 while we are speaking of fashions \u2014 we may not neglect that most curious of all contemporary literary phenomena \u2014 the modern craze for free verse. Twenty years ago, when Browning and Tennyson and Whitman were dead, when the last of the New England group had passed away in Lowell, when Stevenson and Kipling seemed to have no rivals but the thin notes of Dobson and Watson, men were saying that poetry was dying out. (Despite the flood of verse of the last fifteen years, I am not sure that they were wrong!) But now what a change!\nPoets grow on every corner, self-labeled as the most fashionable part, and are without form if not void. Thin volumes of disjointed verse pour from the presses. The librarian who would keep his library abreast of the flood of alleged poetry must know the obscurest printers and publishers. Poetry magazines and annual anthologies alone provide a harvest of verse, and no crossroads are so forlorn that some lines from its rustic muse have not penetrated the magazines at least. To one whose notions of poetry are based on Homer and the Greek tragedians, on Horace and Lucretius, on Dante and Petrarch, on Chaucer and Shakespeare, on Goethe and Schiller, on Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley, and Browning, it is rather hard to grow enthusiastic.\nIt is like asking one whose musical ideas have been shaped by Beethoven to praise jazz and endure practice on the saxophone. The old order changes \u2013 tempora mutantur \u2013 but it is a wrench to change with it, and some of us are not equal to the task. Modern free verse is perhaps, from a philosophic point of view, the counterpart of modern futurist and cubist painting and modern music and the theory of relativity! When we remember how cacophonous Wagner seemed to mid-century musicians and to the Parisian public who hissed Tannhauser, when we recall the almost universal repugnance with which Whitman's earlier work was greeted, we wonder whether the same may not be true of modern poetry.\nThe trouble lies with ourselves or with newer forms of art. The trouble, in part at least, is with those whose revolt from canons of form has led them to spurn beauty and nobility, to exalt the trivial, to mistake mere concatenation of words for poetic feeling and expression. It is hopeless to contend with them, to attempt to laugh them out of court. These newer poets are here \u2013 and they know it. They even go around lecturing and reading and almost selling their wares. As soon as we may escape them as we escape the playwrights \u2013 another modern invasion. For few fashions have swept the country as has the revival of the dramatic instinct in the American people. Coincident with the enormous expansion of moving pictures at the expense of the acted and spoken drama \u2013 even, perhaps, because of the absence from many and many a town of any plays but theirs.\nThe renewed interest in plays and dramatic art has come with a revival of sorts for the \"movies.\" I need not recall to you the history of the \"little theatre\" movement or rehearse the tale of the English, American, and Irish playwrights of the past thirty years. This movement has been more literary than producing. Plays that thirty years ago would have been acted only a few times by stock companies, and even other plays that achieved great theatrical success, would in earlier times quite likely have remained unprinted - the private property of their owners. Now, such plays are read by scores of thousands, as they quickly get out in book form. There is much reading in groups and clubs, and an enormous and ever increasing amount of production of plays by amateurs purely for fun.\nThe English teachers in our schools have been swept up by pageants and plays. It is a sorry state of affairs in these days for a school not to produce several plays yearly, and our universities teem with comedy clubs and acting societies, frequently producing home-made plays. It is worth noting that this literary revival of the drama has largely proceeded on wholesome lines. A sound instinct has for the most part kept the excesses of the contemporary stage out of schools and colleges and dramatic clubs. While theatres in our great cities have shown mere carnal exhibitions of half-naked female forms amid colored lights and resounding jazz, the revived interest in the printed drama and in amateur acting has held itself to more respectable standards.\nThe literary and dramatically ideal revival of the literary drama is noteworthy, despite Mother Grundy's disapproval of contemporary amateur stages. She would find much to criticize, but she would often be mistaken in attributing evil to this freedom alien to her own notions. This trend in books and letters holds great significance. While it is too early to predict its outcomes, its longevity is evident. The past three decades have witnessed the emergence of Bernard Shaw, Barrie, Jones, Pinero, Fitch, Kennedy, and many others. Thousands of young people have studied and acted in their plays, making this a significant chapter in American literary history. As previously stated, the readers and audience matter.\nThe librarian's view is at least equal to that of the authors, albeit differently. Readers' actions, however misguided, make an impression deeper than implied in mere reading of their writings. Even deeper than that created by witnessing production by great actors. The play seen is but evanescent - the played has become a part of the actor's life.\n\nIt is a truism of literary history that the novel became the fashionable literary vehicle of expression in the nineteenth century. We have all been brought up on this doctrine. We are familiar with the precursors: Richardson and Fielding, Swift and Defoe. We recall - but have we read? - Anne Radcliffe and Horace Walpole. We know our Scott, and we all love him still, however dull he may be to the jaded literary taste of our time.\nWe honor Thackeray and George Eliot, and treasure Dickens. This is well-trodden ground. But have we been conscious of the subtle transition in the form and size of the novel? The three-volume tradition we know died long since \u2013 but what killed it? Was it the impatience of a sated public? I incline to the belief that it was rather the fashion of serial publication. The great English and American monthlies which competed for the prizes of their day had precise limits of space in any one month. Their editors knew just how many pages could be spared for any one novel running serially. The result is visible. That rather sudden transition to a shorter form which marks George Meredith and Thomas Hardy from Trollope, for instance, is far more a matter of magazine limits and serial publication.\nRights exceeding one of intrinsic need and definite literary canons, the rise of the cheap magazine of enormous circulation led to the significance of serial rights as a primary source of revenue for authors and publishers. The publication of a novel in Fashions in Books, for instance, held considerable power for an impoverished author, compelling him to adapt, if not other more essential matters, to the magazine editor's requirements. Consequently, once the fashion of reasonable brevity was established, the only means for an author to circumvent the popular demand was by producing another novel featuring similar characters. Instead of three-volume novels with a single title, we now encountered three or more volumes with similar titles.\nAnd how we buy them! Not to rise to lofty heights, observe how Tarzan has raced through volume after volume. Can anyone count the Nick Carter tales? Would Mulford dare to change from the Bar-20 to any other cattle-brand? Truly, the ways of fashion in letters are almost as far past finding out as the way of a man with a maid!\n\nMention of the magazine leads me to point out the greatest change in book fashions since printing began. Periodical publication is now truly the fashion of the day in all lines the world over. This form came into vogue in the seventeenth century with the Journal des Savants and other similar learned publications. For seventy-five years now, it has been increasingly the mode for the publication of the results of study in any and all fields. Thousands of journals keep hundreds of thousands of readers informed.\nSpecialists stay informed about the growth of knowledge in their fields through numerous journals. These journals update the banker, merchant, artisan, tradesman, professor, teacher, and librarian on advancements in their respective fields. They are typically five years ahead of books on every subject and serve as records of progress in science, arts, crafts, trades, and occupations. The number of journals increases every month and in every climate, despite rising costs of paper and presswork, and a severe mortality in journalistic circles. The perplexed and devout librarian may lament, as the Psalmist did, \"Lord, how they are increased that trouble me!\" How to obtain, how to keep, how to index this mass of periodical and serial printed matter! We must have it \u2014 we never have enough.\nWe never have enough indexes for the vast array of original materials concealed within journals. Woe to the librarian who fails to obtain, bind, and use these journals. They are the present-day mode of retailing and frequently rehashing thought and discovery. \"Fractions drive me mad\" was a favorite tag in my boyhood. How true of these days! It is not the sound and single volumes which come whole from the publisher that trouble us and bring our grey hairs in sorrow to the grave. Rather, it is these installments, parts, fascicles, special numbers, and supplements which drive the poor librarian frantic. And how solid the satisfaction, how firm the reward which attends the completion and binding of any fractious and long-broken set! Journals\u2014and still.\nWe have surveyed a few of the outward forms and fashions in the world of letters \u2013 forms which mark our day, our age. What of the spirit? Does fashion disintegrate, as these students of library economy face with journals printed on wood-pulp paper? Will the literary output of the world soon be in periodicals? Shall we always be paying subscriptions, writing postcards for title pages and indexes, preparing for binding, paying for binding, buying older sets, renewing our worn-out journals? I and my generation shall never get away from journals; perhaps the journals will get away from you younger folk \u2013 by the simple process of chemical decomposition.\nRules in the higher realms as well? Yes, certainly! Far more so than in the lower matters of shape and size, and mode of publication. Considering the temper of the time, seeking its answer to the eternal questions of the spirit, for its ideals of the true, the beautiful, and the good, striving to understand the drifts and currents of an age even more shifting and rapid in its changes than most periods of human experience, it is hard not to be a mere head shaker, a laudator tempesti or acti of the familiar and age-old type. There are current fashions in the world of letters, fashions which boast a large and increasing following, which yet seem to many of us symptomatic of disease rather than a healthy revolt against the hampering limitations of an earlier time. Every age of license in the world\u2019s literature has its fashions.\nIts critics labeled it old fogies, and it committed literary crimes in the name of liberty. Generally, it has abused its freedom until its vogue of profanity or licentiousness has died a natural death \u2013 from its own rottenness. It is the prevailing fashion in certain circles in America, as in England, to throw decorum to the winds, to outrage decency, to exalt moral looseness, and to portray the pathologic \u2013 all in the name of art. The process is a familiar one \u2013 and a sorry one. It has gone on before \u2013 in the Renaissance, at the Restoration, before and after the French Revolution, in decadent Rome and equally decadent Vienna and Paris. No really great name in the world of letters has ever risen (like a water lily) from this muck and mire. The apology for this neo-eroticism usually takes the form of flings at fashion.\nPuritanism or the New England conscience and its condemnation of bourgeois minds with profane references to Anthony Comstock and the W.C.T.U. Puritanism in England and America needs no defense from me. Its achievements are a matter of history \u2013 its unlovely parts were never more than minor portions of a great whole. But I venture to protest that if the neo-fleshly school produces any poets like Milton or seers like Emerson, they will have far firmer grounds to stand on than they now occupy. When I was a young man and attending the university, I often noticed how the German producers of doctoral theses loved to find a flaw in Mommsen\u2019s history of Rome and ride to a Ph.D. degree on the discovery. So these violent outbursts against Puritanism in art and letters may serve to coin a few dollars \u2013 but will they advance knowledge?\nWe have in America no lack of clean and strong writers. But their fashionability sets a sore problem for us librarians, who are keen to be up-to-date, to provide the talked-about books, to furnish our various publics with the best in current letters, and who are neither squeamish nor straight-laced. When we buy a book for a public library, we say in effect, \"This is a book fit to be read.\" I can only urge real courage in dealing with the question. What is right for folk of wide experience and mature judgment?\nIs a broad acquaintance with literature suitable for the callow, the impressionable, the \"meanly-lettered\"? This question itself answers it. No library has enough money to buy even a major part of the current books. Its funds, then, should go for those that are clean and decent, inspiring and uplifting, stirring and vital. If we do not fear Mother Grundy making our decisions - and we should not - neither may we forget our responsibilities towards hundreds of young people. There is plenty of good, honest, decent, attractive, readable stuff available. Let the other sort go. Spend the money on real bread that satisfies - and don't be afraid to explain why you have done so!\n\nFashions change. I remember a visiting Canadian preacher in my boyhood who prayed for an hour and a quarter while the small boys stood on one foot.\nAnd then on the other hand, he longed for the end. What show would he have to get a call to a church in Madison? Remembering him, I shall cease to speak further on fashions in books. But I could go on \u2013 so far, so far. The modes are legion. It is fine to be in a work where you may observe alike those of Greece and Rome and of present-day Chicago. The librarian's privilege. He is not wholly of one race or clime or day. The pleasant land of the troubadour and the frozen North are his equally. He may be burdened with his work, he may not have enough salary to dress in the mode, children and bores and women's clubs may take his time, but these are trifles. He lives in the spirit. He sits on his fence and sees the parade of books pass by \u2013 the gay and festive, the sad and sober, the youngest and the oldest.\nHe is the oldest. He selects, buys, uses, and promotes. Some days he seems bowed beneath the hurrying and wearing service of the hour, but always a service of ideas, of things of the spirit, of books. He cannot be a slavish and blind follower of literary styles, though he can rejoice in most and may at will decline all save a nodding acquaintance with others. And his one comfort as he is driven from literary Dan to Beersheba, from poetry to essay, from tax report to Greek tragedy, from Vedic hymns to cowboy novels, is that for him all these diversities represent but one thing only \u2014 fashions in books. Without this consciousness, his mind would doubtless undergo the mythical fate of the chameleon on the Scotch tartan. With it, he manages to retain his own personality, his ideals, his convictions, to find his joy in service, his solace in books.\nold-fashioned and new, his hope in a deep humanity, his religion in the one unchanging Spirit in a world of change.\n\nAcademies, transactions of: 286,\nAdams, John: 167,\nAddison, Joseph: 123,\nAdult education and libraries,\nAdvertising for libraries,: 194,\nAldus Manutius: 32,\nAlphabet, key to arrangement,\nAmerican Catalogue : 56,\nAmerican Historical Association, Committee on Bibliography,\nAmerican Library Association, - , Committee on cataloging rules,: 129,\n- , Constitution: 262, 263,\ncan history : 56,\n- , Publishing Board: 54,\nAmerican libraries, competence\nAmericanization: 247\nAstor Library, (N. Y.): 127,\nAtlases, training in use of: 112,\nAudubon, J. J., Birds of North America : 279,\nBacon, Francis: 123,\nBates Bequest, University of Michigan: 281,\nBerlin. Konigl. Bibliothek: 91,\nBible, English: 123,\nBibliographer: 296,\nBibliographical Society of\nBibliography: 55\nBooks, owned in homes, 236\nBradley, Justice Joseph Philo,\nBradshaw, Henry, 183\nBranch libraries, 193\nBritish Museum, 175, 276 (Catalogue, 139)\nBrooklyn Library, 184\nBrown, John Carter, 44\nBuffalo Library, 184\nCatalog cards, printed, 54\nCatalogers, scarcity of, 130\nCataloging, 125-148 (permanence, 147; teaching, 142; experience, 143; rules, Uniform, 53)\nCatalogs, printed in book form, 127\nCarnegie, Andrew. Gifts to Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, 129 (book catalog, 129; printed cards, 89, 90)\nCervantes, 123\nLibraries, 181\nChildren's libraries, 59\nCooperation between Chicago libraries, 292\nChicago Public Library, 52\nCicero, 243\nCirculation of books from libraries, 42\nHenry Clay, 167\nCleveland Public Library, 224\nClubs and libraries, 248\nJ. G. Cogswell, 183\nCollege and university libraries, 219, 220, 231\nCollege student attitude to reading, 117\nCollectors of books, 37, 62\n- Gifts to libraries, 62\nColumbia University. Avery Architectural Library, 62, 87\nColumbia University Library,\nCommencement addresses, 165\nInternational Congresses, Concilium Bibliographicum, 284\nConserving book rarities, 186\nContinuation schools and libraries, 85\nCooperation in buying books,\nCooperative cataloging, 55\nCornell University Library, 51\nDante, 62, Detroit Public Library, 224\nDictionaries in schools, 111, District of Columbia Public,\nDoctoral dissertations, 280, Drama, modern, in America,\nEdison, Thomas A., 167, Education of masses, 227, 228,\nEhrle, Franz, Cardinal, 18, 20, English literature in college libraries, 205,\nEpic poetry, 317, 318, European history, sources,\nEvans, Charles. American Bibliography, 56, Exhibits of books, 46, 47,\nExpeditions, scientific publications, 282, Experience: value in refer,\nFashions in books, 304-330, Fashions in dress, 305, 306,\nFine arts, in college libraries, Foch, Marshal, 252, Ford, Henry, 167,\nFrance. Bibliotheque Nationale, Free verse, 318, French literature, in libraries,\nGarfield, James A., 49, Garnett, Richard, 183, Garrison, Fielding H., 296,\nGebhart und Hamack, Texie und Untersuchungen, 145, Genealogical inquiries, 78, Goethe, 123, Hale, William G., 20.\nAlexander Hamilton, Edward Henry Harriman, Harvard University Library, 90, Hobbies for Librarians (10, 11), Homer, Anderson H. Hopkins, Mark Hopkins, Charles E. Hughes, Henry E. Huntington, David Hutcheson, Incunabula (310, 311), Institut International de Bibliographie (Brussels), Instruction in Use of Libraries, International Catalogue of Scientific Literature (55, 297), Inter-library Loans, Isolated Students, Andrew Jackson, Thomas Jefferson, John Carter Brown Library, John Crerar Library (163, 175), Leaders (168), Leadership (165-174), Leadership based on knowledge (169)\nLeland Stanford University Library, 290\nJames Lenox, 190, Lenox Library (N.Y.), 184\nLeo XIII, Pope, 27\nLibrarian, knowledge of catalogs, etc., 6\n- memory for titles, 3\n- superficial acquaintance with books, 13\nLibrarian's attitude toward librarianship, defined, 125, 126\nLibraries, American \u2013 characteristics, 41, 42\n- European, characteristics, 41, 42\nLibraries, growth in numbers, 191\n- growth in size, 191\n- in U.S., development, 191-200\nLibrary buildings, 50ff, 59\n- universities, 218, 219\nLibrary commissions, 56, 57\nLibrary Journal, 127\nLibrary of Congress, 4, 52, 67,\n- card catalog, 93\n- Jefferson, List of Subject Headings, 93\n- printed catalog, 93\n- Reading Room, 94\n- Union catalog, 94\nLibrary schools, 61\nAbraham Lincoln, 167\nKlas August Linderfelt, 127\nCarl Linnaeus, 280\nLoan desk assistants, 72, 73\n- inquiries at, 73\nMaculay, T.B. (123)\nJames, Madison (167)\nMai, Cardinal (15)\nMedieval manuscripts in American libraries, 44, 308,\nMarshall, John (167)\nMilwaukee Public Library (52)\nMommsen, Theodore (328)\nMontaigne (123)\nPublications of museums (281)\nNew sciences in college libraries,\nNewark Free Public Library (52)\nNewberry Library (51)\nNewspapers (228, 229)\nNewton, Isaac. Principia (123)\nNew York Public Library (3, - printed cards: 89, - Ford Collection: 62, - New York Society Library: 101, New York University Library, Notre Dame University Library (276)\nNovel (form: 323)\nOhio libraries (224)\n\"Old-fashioned\" librarian (183)\nOpen access in college libraries,\n\"Open access\" libraries (59, 67)\nPanizzi, Anthony (183)\nPanizzi\u2019s Rules (136)\nParkman, Francis (123)\nPastoral poetry (316, 317)\nPeabody Institute Library (Baltimore) (87)\nPellechet, Mile. Marie (147)\nPercent of college income for library (222)\nFrederic Beecher Perkins, \"Personality\", Philadelphia. Library, Pius XI, Pope, 25, Plantin Press, Antwerp, 33, Modern Poetry, 319, 320, Wm. Frederick Poole, 12, 62, Princeton University Library, 52, Morgan Collection of Verse, Garrett Arabic MSS., 62, Princeton University. \"Preceptors\", 119, Printers, early, 309, Robert Proctor, Providence Public Library, 52, Prussia. University libraries, Gesammtkaatalog, 91, Public libraries, 191, 192, Puritanism, 328, Herbert Putnam, 188, 261, Rare books in libraries, 39, 44, Readers assistance, 65ff, Reader\u2019s Guide to Periodical Literature, 115, Reading habit, conserving, 239, Reading of the masses, 233, Record of knowledge, in books, Recreational reading, 177, 242, Reference librarian, 5, relations to university faculties, 77, Reference libraries, 154, Reference rooms, 153, 154, Religion, books on, in college.\nLibraries, 208\nRequired reading, college entrance, 117\nResearch, provision for, college \"Reserved\" books, 76, 118\nRiant Collection, Harvard University Library, 62\nRichardson, Ernest C., 180\nRockefeller, John D., 167\nRockefeller Foundation, 298\nRoosevelt, Theodore, 167\nRoyal Society (London). Catalogue of Scientific Papers, 211,\nRoyal Society (London). See also International Catalogue of Scientific Literature\nSaturday Evening Post, 324\nSchiller, Friedrich, 123\n- facsimile of letter, 7\nScience, libraries of, in U.S., 272,\n- method of teaching, 272,\n- historical method in, 274\nSelection of books, 110, 328, 329\nSerials, record in libraries, 85,\nShakespeare, 123\nSizes of books, 312, 313\nSlavic bibliography, 180\nSocial sciences, books on, in college libraries, 210\nSpecialists in libraries, 155\nSpecialization in libraries, 163\n\"Special\" libraries, 161, 195\nAinsworth Rand, 4, Standardization of library technique, 195\nRichard Stanyhurst, 232, Study of community, subject bibliographies, 92ff, Subject headings in catalogs,\nCharles Sumner, 167, Survey of current library practice,\nReuben Gold Thwaites, 12169, Tischendorf, Constantine, 15, Titles of books, 108, 109, Transactions of societies, etc.,\nTranscripts, 79, 80, Traveling libraries, 57, 58, Union shelf list, 141,\nUnited Engineering Societies Library (New York), 175,\nUnited States Army Engineer School. Library, 89,\nUnited States Army. Surgeon General\u2019s Library, 89, 175,\nUnited States Army, War College. Library, 89,\nUnited States Bureau of Education. Library, 89,\nUnited States Bureau of Fisheries. Library, 89,\nUnited States Bureau of Labor. Library, 89,\nUnited States Department of Agriculture, book needs, 178,\nUnited States Department of Agriculture. Library, 89.\nUniversities and Libraries:\n\nUnited States Document Office Library, 89\nUnited States Geological Survey Library, 89\nUnited States Catalog, 56\nUniversity of California Library,\nUniversity of Chicago Library,\nUniversity of Illinois Library,\nUniversity of Iowa Library,\nUniversity of Michigan Library, 290\nUniversity of Minnesota Library, 290\nUniversity of Nebraska Library,\nUniversity of Washington Library, 290\nUniversity of Wisconsin Library,\nUse of books, 99ff\nUtley, George B., 260\nVatican Library (Rome), 15ff\nVergil, 123\nViage de Sutil y Mexicana,\nWashington, George, 167\nWebster, Daniel, 167\nWestern Reserve Historical Society (Cleveland), 293\nWestinghouse, George, 167\nWilkes Exploring Expedition,\nWilson, Woodrow, 167, 168,\nWisconsin Free Library Commission, 43\nWisconsin. State Historical Society,\nYale University Library, 176,\n- , Semitic manuscripts, 62\nSans Tache\n\nSans Tache\nIn the \"elder days of art,\" each artist or craftsman enjoyed the privilege of independent creation. He carried through a process of manufacture from beginning to end. The scribe of the days before the printing press was such a craftsman. So was the printer in the days before the machine process. He stood or fell, as a craftsman, by the merit or demerit of his finished product. Modern machine production has added much to the worker's productivity and material welfare, but it has deprived him of the old creative distinctiveness. His work is merged in the work of the team, and lost sight of as something representing him and his personality.\n\nMany hands and minds contribute to the manufacture of a book in this day of specialization. There are seven distinct major processes in the making of a book: The type must first be set; by the monotype caster. Then the type is locked up in the chase, and the impression is taken on a sheet of paper. The sheet is then collated with others to form a signature. The signature is then sewn into the book's binding. The book is then covered with the appropriate material and decorated as desired. Finally, the book is bound and trimmed to size.\nThe two processes in method are \"keyboarding\" of the MS and casting of type from perforated paper rolls. Formulas and intricate work must be hand-set, brought together in order, made into pages and forms. Results must be checked by proof reading at each stage. Then comes \"make-ready\" and press-run, and finally binding into volumes. All processes, except binding into cloth or leather covers, are carried out under our roof. The motto of The Williams & Wilkins Company is Sans Tache. Our ideal is to publish books \"without blemish\" \u2014 worthy books, worthily printed, with worthy topography \u2014 books to which we shall be proud to attach our imprint, made by craftsmen willing to accept open responsibility for their work, and entitled to credit for creditable work.\nThe printing craftsman of today is just as much a craftsman as his predecessor. There is just as much discrimination between poor work and good. We are of the opinion that the individuality of the worker should not be wholly lost. The following staff members have contributed their skill to this volume:\n\nComposing Room: Edgar Simmons, William Fite, Roland Stultz, Frank Witt, Ernest Salgado, John Flanagan, Charles Wyatt, John Crabill, Herbert Leach, William Sanders, James Jackson, William Koch, Steve Simmons, George Behr, Henry Shea, Edward Rice, Theodore Nilson, Nathan Miller.\n\nCasters: Kenneth Brown, Ernest Wann, Mahlon Robinson, Charles Aher, George Smith, Frank Malanosky, Martin Griffin, Henry Lee, Frederick Wall.\n\nFolder: Laurence Krug.\n\nPress: Fred Lucker, Henry Eckert, Raymond Bauer, Clarence Ridgeway.\nHannah Scott, Eleanor Lucke, Harry Susemihl, Vera Taylor, Helen Twardowicz, Anna Kelly, Sarah Katzin, Alice Reuter, Mary Reed, Ruth Treisch-man, Ethel Strasinger, Lucille Bull, Angeline Eifert, Audrey Tanner, Edna Clarke, Dorothy Strasinger, Lillian Gilland, Arthur Baker, Geraldine Brown\n\nSecond Edition\nPractical Handbook of Modern Library Cataloging\n\nThe second edition of this useful manual has proven even more popular than the first. It is by William Warner Bishop, the author of \u201cThe Backs of Books.\n\nAs Edmund Lester Pearson puts it, in concise fashion, in The Nation: \u201cMr. Bishop\u2019s book (Modern Library Cataloging) is a succinct statement of things as they are by a man who knows what he is talking about.\u201d\n\nContents:\nI. Brief Sketch of the History of Library Cataloging\nII. Rooms and Equipment\nIII. Planning the Catalog\nIV  Organization  of  the  Cataloging  Force \n*  V  Use  of  Printed  Catalog  Cards \nVI  Cataloging  Method \nVII  Subject  Headings \nTHE  WILLIAMS  &  WILKINS  COMPANY \nPublishers  of  Scientific  Books  and  Periodicals \nBALTIMORE,  U.  S.  A. \nz \nA  y \nas \ne.3  A  -  (\\>-3iiii:iiiiii|P=? \ns \n_  cVVnXW  W//J2  Z \nlV% \n\"oP ", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"},
{"language": "eng", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "sponsor": "The Library of Congress", "contributor": "The Library of Congress", "date": "1926", "subject": ["Readers -- Hygiene", "Hygiene -- Juvenile literature"], "title": "Better health for little Americans,", "creator": "Lawson, Edith Wilhelmina. [from old catalog]", "lccn": "27001129", "collection": ["library_of_congress", "fedlink", "americana"], "shiptracking": "ST011238", "partner_shiptracking": "IAGC155", "call_number": "7332163", "identifier_bib": "00055261465", "lc_call_number": "QP37 .L3", "possible-copyright-status": "The Library of Congress is unaware of any copyright restrictions for this item.", "note": "If you have a question or comment about this digitized item from the collections of the Library of Congress, please use the Library of Congress \u201cAsk a Librarian\u201d form: <a href=\"https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html\">https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html</a>", "publisher": "Chicago, Beckley-Cardy company", "description": "152 p. 20 cm", "mediatype": "texts", "repub_state": "19", "page-progression": "lr", "publicdate": "2019-07-23 11:43:10", "updatedate": "2019-07-23 12:49:35", "updater": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "identifier": "betterhealthforl00laws_0", "uploader": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "addeddate": "2019-07-23 12:49:37", "operator": "associate-annie-coates@archive.org", "tts_version": "2.1-final-2-gcbbe5f4", "camera": "Sony Alpha-A6300 (Control)", "scanner": "scribe1.capitolhill.archive.org", "imagecount": "162", "scandate": "20190802174703", "ppi": "300", "republisher_operator": "associate-evangilyn-dayday@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20190806125142", "republisher_time": "1123", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/betterhealthforl00laws_0", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t9676877n", "scanfee": "300;10.7;214", "invoice": "36", "openlibrary_edition": "OL27260007M", "openlibrary_work": "OL20079999W", "year": "1926", "curation": "[curator]admin-andrea-mills@archive.org[/curator][date]20191011182613[/date][state]approved[/state][comment]invoice201908[/comment]", "sponsordate": "20190831", "additional-copyright-note": "No known restrictions; no copyright renewal found.", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:1156386452", "backup_location": "ia906907_32", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "95", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1926, "content": "FOR LITTLE AMERICANS: FRESH AIR AND EXERCISE FOR BETTER HEALTH\n\nBY EDITH WILHELMINA LAWSON\nROCKFORD (ILL.) PUBLIC SCHOOLS\n\nHealth is great riches\n\nCopyright, 1926, Beckley-Cardy Company\nChicago\nAll rights reserved\nPrinted in the United States of America.\n\nContents\n\nWhat We Must All Do\nGood Food: Milk, Breakfast, Coffee and Tea, Don\u2019t Drink Coffee!, Guess My Name, Drink More Milk, What Am I?, Put Him on the Scales, Other Good Things to Eat: Fruit, Vegetables, Roots, Some Good Friends: Seeds, Stems, Food Song, Leaves, Our Dinner, The Cow, The Friendly Cow, A Riddle, Farm Animals: Fowls, One, Two, A Queer Little House, Water, If, That\u2019s the Way, A Riddle, Candy, Oh, for the Apple, Health Rules, I\u2019m Glad.\nI. Fresh Air and Sunshine...\nFresh Air: Hoop Song: Fresh Air Is Good for All,\nFresh Air in Spring, Fresh Air in Summer,\nIn Summer: Fresh Air in Autumn, Fresh Air in Winter,\nWinter Is Coming: Guess My Name,\nSunshine and Fresh Air: The Sun: Open the Door: The Sun Is in the Sky,\n\nII. Cleanliness.\nClean Hands and Faces: The Little Clock,\nClean Bodies: What Are They? Clean Teeth: Do You Know Me?,\nTo Keep Good Health: A Good Resolve: Be Clean,\n\nIV. Sleep and Rest. 85\nSleep: Sleep and Rest: Lack of Sleep: Early and Late,\nHow We Get Rest: Good Night Song,\n\nV. Exercise. 93\nHome Exercise: Exercise Through Play: An Exercise,\nExercise in Spring and Summer: Autumn and Winter Exercise,\nFacts About Exercise: Exercises for All: Hints on Exercise: Exercise Song,\n\nVI. General Health Lessons. 109\nPosture: Feet: Care of the Eyes: The Ears:\nGerms \u2014 More  About  Germs \u2014 The  Fly \u2014 Fighting  the \nFlies \u2014 Mosquitoes \u2014 Rats  and  Mice \u2014 Colds \u2014 How \nto  Prevent  Colds \u2014 Healthful  Homes \u2014 Muddy  Jim \u2014 \nWhere  to  Buy  Food \u2014 The  Underweight  Child \u2014 \nHow  Strong  Are  You? \u2014 Tobacco \u2014 Alcohol \u2014 Things \nto  Remember \u2014 For  Good  Health \u2014 Secrets  of  Health \nVII  Height  and  Weight  Tables .  148 \nHeight  and  Weight  Table  for  Boys \u2014 Height  and \nWeight  Table  for  Girls \u2014 A  Better  Health  Card \nVIII  A  Better  Health  Card .  151 \nWhat  We  Must  All  Do \nFrom  the  top  of  my  head  to  my  tiny \ntoes \nI  am  built  of  bones,  as  every  one  knows. \nThese  are  the  framework  so  strong \nwithin; \nOutside  they  are  covered  with  flesh \nand  skin. \nThe  parts  of  my  body  are  only  three \u2014 \nMy  head,  my  trunk,  and  my  limbs, \nas  you  see. \nMy  head  has  a  back,  two  sides,  and  a \ncrown, \nAll  covered  with  hair,  yellow,  black, \nred,  or  brown. \nAnd,  just  in  front,  in  the  foremost \nplace, \nYou can clearly see my neat little face. It has a forehead, nose, mouth, and chin; two cheeks with dimples that slip out and in; two eyes you see when you are near, two ears like seashells to help me hear. My neck and shoulders are broad and strong, arm, forearm, wrist, hand, and fingers long. My trunk and thighs, legs, ankles, and knees. I stand or run on two feet. My joints bend when I run, jump, or walk. I have a little red tongue to help me talk. These make up my body, and now I will tell what we all must do to stay strong and well.\n\nTo be neat and clean, we must take great care. Have plenty of sunshine and breathe the fresh air. Eat pure, wholesome food three times a day. We all shall become strong women and men.\n\nFood\nGood Food\nWe should eat pure, wholesome food. We should eat three times a day.\nPlain food will make us grow stronger than rich food. We should have milk every day. Eggs are good for us. Bread and meat help us to grow and become stronger. Cereals and vegetables are healthful foods. Fruits and simple desserts are good. We should eat often all these foods. Good food helps us to grow.\n\nMilk is a good food. There is no better food for children than milk. Children can learn to like milk. Milk makes us healthy. Milk makes our teeth strong. Milk makes our bones strong. Milk helps us do good work in school. Milk is the best food for children. We should drink milk every day.\n\nThank you, pretty cow, that made pleasant milk to soak my bread, Every day and every night, Warm and fresh and sweet and white.\n\nBreakfast: Eat some fruit every morning. Orange or grapefruit is good for breakfast. Baked apple is good too.\nOatmeal, farina, any cooked cereal are good for our breakfast. Cereals are the fruit of oats, wheat, corn, rice and barley. Eggs are good for breakfast. Fried eggs are not good for children. Buttered toast is good for breakfast. Milk and cocoa are good to drink.\n\nBoys and girls should not drink coffee nor tea. Coffee and tea are not good for children. They make boys and girls thin. Coffee and tea do not make boys and girls strong and healthy. Coffee and tea make girls and boys nervous.\n\nGirls and boys do not do good work when they drink much tea and coffee. Coffee and tea make children lose sleep. Children who drink much tea and coffee sometimes feel dull and tired.\n\nWe will not drink coffee and tea because they are not good for us.\n\nI don't drink coffee!\n\nOne, two, three,\nI don't drink coffee.\nI don't drink tea. I prefer water, milk, and cocoa. Guess My Name I was a brown berry. I was ground with other berries like me. Then I was put into water. After being boiled, I was poured into a cup. I was mixed with milk and sugar. I cause discomfort to adults. I bother children even more. I make children cross and nervous. Sometimes I make them feel dull. I keep children awake at night. I help to make them thin. Can you guess my name?\n\nDrink More Milk\nInstead of drinking coffee and tea, children should drink milk. We should drink three or four glasses of milk every day. We should drink our milk slowly. Milk helps us gain weight. We don't want to be underweight. If we are underweight, we will not be strong. Milk makes boys and girls strong. Fresh sweet milk makes children healthy.\nI am a milk. Boys and girls sleep well with me. I am white and come from a cow. I am good to drink. Babies cry for me, and kittens mew for me. Sometimes I am found in a bottle.\n\nWeigh Him:\nEenie, meenie, minie, mo,\nCatch a thin boy by the toe;\nPut him on the scales to see\nIf he's as healthy as he should be.\nIf he's not what he should weigh,\nGive him a quart of milk each day.\n\nTo Grow Up Strong:\nIf we wish to grow up to be strong men and women, we must eat the right kinds of food.\n\nWe should eat bread and butter. Graham bread is wholesome. Whole wheat bread is good for us.\n\nWe should eat potatoes.\n\nSoup made of vegetables and milk is good for us.\n\nWe should eat meat only once a day. Macaroni and fish are good for children. Boys and girls like nuts and may eat a few at times.\nVegetables are good foods for children. Rice and cornflakes are good for us. Barley and rye bread are still better. Farina and hominy are good for children. Custard makes a good dessert. Puddings made of milk are good for children.\n\nFruit is very good for boys and girls. Apples, oranges, and peaches are good for girls and boys. Grapes, pears, and plums are good for children. Strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries are good to eat. Grapefruit and cherries are good for boys and girls.\n\nWe should eat orange or grapefruit for breakfast. Bananas must be ripe to be good for children to eat. Bananas are ripe when there are brown spots on the skins. Bananas are not good when the skins are all brown. Dried fruits are good to eat. Prunes, figs, and dates are good for children. Fruit may be eaten raw or stewed. Canned fruit and jellies are good.\nChildren should not eat too much jam or marmalade. Fruit is wholesome food for children. We should eat fruit every day. Eating more fruit means better health.\n\nChildren: Currants on a bush, and figs on a stem, and cherries on a bending bough, and Ned to gather them. - Christina G. Rossetti\n\nEvery day we should eat some fresh vegetables. Vegetables are good for boys and girls. Potatoes are good for children. Potatoes may be boiled or baked. Mashed potatoes are good to eat for dinner. Peas and beans are good foods. Spinach and asparagus are good. Tomatoes are good for children. Carrots and turnips are good for girls and boys. Corn and cauliflower are good, too. Celery and beets are good. Onions are good, too. More Vegetables - Better Health.\n\nCabbage and squash are good for children. Dried and canned vegetables are good to eat. Some vegetables make good soup.\nPotatoes and corn can be made into soup. Celery makes good soup. Children like tomato soup. Cream of tomato soup is good for children. Radishes and lettuce are very good for children. All of these help us grow. We should not eat many pickles. They do not help us grow. Some roots are good for food. Potatoes are roots that are good food. Beets and onions are roots, too. Turnips and radishes are roots. Parsnips and carrots are roots. Sweet potatoes are roots. Potatoes and sweet potatoes are both good for children. Children like beets and carrots. Turnips and onions are good for boys and girls. These roots are all good foods for children.\n\nSome Good Friends\nBig Potato and Little Meat\nGive us energy and heat.\nIf we eat red Billy Beet,\nWe will find him nice and sweet.\nCarrots and spinach like to eat\nIron from the ground.\nIf we eat them, we shall be strong.\nSeeds: Some seeds are good for food. Wheat seeds are made into flour. Flour is made into bread. Bread is good food for us. Corn is good food for children. Peas and beans are good for boys and girls. White beans and brown beans are both good to eat. Peas and beans may be dried. Dried peas make good soup. Dried beans may be boiled or baked. Lima beans are liked by children. All these seeds are good food for us to eat.\n\nStems: Some stems are good for boys and girls. Beet stems are good for us. Pieplant or rhubarb stems are good for children. Pieplant stems are stewed for sauce. Cooked asparagus stems are good to eat. Onion stems are good, too. Celery stems are good for a relish. All these stems are good to eat.\n\nFood Song: Tune: Row, Row, Row Your Boat\nDrink, drink the good milk,\nEat some oatmeal, too.\nApple and orange, and brown bread and butter are very good for you. Eat, eat the best food, That's the healthful way. Com and potatoes and rice and tomatoes are mighty good. Some leaves are good foods. Lettuce leaves are good for children. Leaf lettuce and head lettuce are both good. Spinach leaves are good for boys and girls. Dandelion leaves are good to eat. Beet leaves are good for us. Water cress is a good food. We have to cook spinach, dandelion, and beet leaves. We do not need to cook lettuce and water cress. We should eat all these leaves. In winter as well as summer, we should eat some leafy vegetable. They are all good foods for children.\n\nNow for our dinner! What shall we eat? Plenty of vegetables, but little meat; Potatoes, carrots, and spinach are fine; These give us strength, if on them we dine.\nThe cow gives us good food. It gives us milk. Cream rises on the top of the milk. We can make ice cream from milk. Children like ice cream, which is a good dessert. Custards are made with milk. Butter and cheese are made from milk. Buttermilk comes from milk. Children should drink milk every day. They should eat butter and cottage cheese. Cottage cheese is made from milk. Fresh cottage cheese is good for girls and boys. The cow gives us beef. Beef is good meat. Roast beef is good to eat. Beefsteak is good, too. Stewed beef with vegetables is good for boys and girls. Beef may be made into soup, too. Children like beef soup. All these foods are good for us. The cow gives us all these good foods.\n\nThe friendly cow, all red and white,\nI love with all my heart:\nShe gives me cream with all her might,\nTo eat with apple-tart.\nI am thinking of an animal that gives us milk to drink, meat to eat, cheese and something to spread on our bread, and soap to wash our hands. Can you guess its name?\n\nThe animals of the farm give us good food. From the lamb come lamb chops and roast lamb. The pig gives us ham, pork, bacon, and salt pork. We should eat meat only once a day. Meat and potatoes are good for dinner. We eat bacon for breakfast. Bacon is good to eat with eggs.\n\nFowls come from the farm. Chickens, turkeys, ducks, and geese are fowls. They are good to eat. Besides, the hen lays eggs. Eggs are good to eat. Fresh eggs are very good for little boys and girls. We may eat eggs for breakfast.\nWe may eat them at other times too, in place of meat. Puddings made with eggs are good, too. One, two, milk's good for you! Three, four, play outdoors. Five, six, bread nice and thick. Seven, eight, stand up straight. Nine, ten, eggs from the hen. Eleven, twelve, brush your teeth well. And so on to nineteen, twenty. Healthy children are plenty.\n\nA Queer Little House\nThere's a queer little house\nThat stands in the sun;\nWhen the good mother calls,\nThe children all run;\nWhile under her roof\nIt is cozy and warm,\nThough the cold wind may whistle\nAnd bluster and storm.\n\nIn the daytime this queer\nLittle house moves away,\nAnd the children run after,\nSo happy and gay;\nBut it comes back at night\nAnd the children are fed\nAnd tucked up to sleep\nIn their warm, cozy bed.\n\nThis queer little house\nHas no windows nor doors,\nThe roof has no shingles.\nThe rooms have no floors; no fireplaces, chimneys, or stoves are visible. Yet the children are cozy and warm.\n\nThe story of this little house is quite true. I have seen it myself, and I\u2019m sure you have, too. You can see it to-day if you\u2019ll watch the old hen while her downy wings cover her chickens again.\n\nWater is good for us. We should drink plenty of water. Children should drink four glasses or more of water every day. We should drink water between meals. It is good for us to drink water before breakfast. Our food is cooked in water. We need water every day. Our bodies are three parts water. So we must drink plenty of water. Fresh, cool water satisfies thirst. Water is better for children than tea or coffee. Water quenches thirst. Boys and girls should drink plenty of water. Children need water to make them strong and healthy. If.\nIf all the world were apple-pie, and all the sea were ink, and all the trees were bread and cheese, what should we have to drink? That's the Way. A bit of work, a bit of play, and lots of quiet sleep. A cheerful heart and a sunny face, the health chores done at a merry pace. Ah, that's the way the children grow. Don't you know? That's the way little children grow.\n\nA Riddle\nI am thinking of something that is good to drink. We could not live without it. It has no taste. It has no color. We can see through it. It comes from rivers and lakes. It comes from brooks and creeks. It comes from springs. It comes from clouds. Sometimes it is salty. Then we cannot drink it. We cook with it. It makes us sweet and clean. Mother Nature uses very much of it. Our own mothers use very much of it. It keeps our houses sweet and clean.\n\nAnswer: Water.\n[We cross it on the ocean. In winter, we skate on it. Fish live in it. Insects like it. Nothing could live without it. Can you guess its name?\n\nCandy\nChildren may eat a little candy once in a while. The candy should be made of pure materials. Too much candy is not good for children. We should not eat candy between meals. If we eat candy between meals, we shall not be hungry at meal time. If we are not hungry at meal time, we shall not eat much at our meals. If we do not eat our meals, we shall not get the good food we need. Then we shall lose weight. We shall not be strong if we eat candy between meals. Figs and dates take the place of candy. We can eat honey instead of candy. Too much candy is not good for the teeth. Too much candy often brings a troublesome toothache.\n\nOh, for the apple! Oh, for the apple! So round and so red,]\nIt's better than candy, let's eat it instead. More fruit, good fruit! Date, orange and fig; The children who eat them will surely grow big.\n\nHealth Rules\nWe should eat three good meals a day. Always eat at the same time of day. Eat slowly. Take time to eat at the table. Stay at the table twenty minutes. Be happy at meal time. Chew your food well. Eat plenty of good, wholesome food. Drink plenty of milk. Drink plenty of water. Try to grow strong and well. Take good care of your teeth. Bathe at least twice a week. Go to bed early. Children, get plenty of sleep!\n\nHealth Brings Happiness\nSleep with your windows wide open. Play outdoors. Brush your teeth at least once a day. Drink no coffee nor tea. Eat vegetables and fruit every day. Milk pure, air pure, water pure. Three things pure That help to cure.\n\nI'm glad the sky is painted blue.\nAnd the earth is painted green, with such a lot of nice fresh air all sandwiched in between. Fresh Air and Sunshine for Health. Fresh Air is good for all. Fresh air helps children to grow. We need fresh air when we are asleep. We need fresh air when we are awake. So children should play outdoors. Fresh air makes children healthy. Fresh air makes children happy.\nRolling on the ground. Rumble-umble-umble! Ever up and down, the little girls with flying curls drive them through the town. Fresh Air Is Good for All\n\nFresh air is good for every one. Fresh air was good for the Tree Dwellers long ago. The Tree Dwellers had fresh air all the time. Fresh air was good for the Indians. Indians are native people. Fresh air was good for the Pilgrims. Fresh air is good for the Chinese. The Chinese are Asian. Fresh air is good for the Negro. The Negro is Black. Fresh air is good for white people. Fresh air is good for the red, black, yellow, and white races. Fresh air is good for boys and girls. That is why we play outdoors and sleep with our windows open. Children should have plenty of fresh air. Fresh air makes children well and strong. We need fresh air as much as food. Fresh Air in the Spring.\nFresh air is needed in the springtime, in windy March weather. Then we wear warm clothes. Fresh air is needed in April when showers fall. Fresh air is needed in May when the apple trees blossom. Fresh air is needed during the three months of spring: March, April, and May. We can play outdoors in the spring. It is good for us to be outdoors in the spring. The green leaves come out in the spring. Then it is pleasant to be outdoors. We like to be outdoors in the spring. There is no time like spring When life's alive in everything.\n\nFresh Air in Summer\nIn summer, we should be outdoors most of the time. We should spend most of our time outdoors in June. The roses bloom in June. Many flowers bloom in June. We should be outdoors in July when the days are warm.\nIn July, many flowers are in bloom and fruit is ripe. We should be outdoors in August when the days are hot. If we can, we should sleep outdoors in the summer. The summer days are long and bright. We should get plenty of fresh air in summer. We should sleep with our windows wide open in summer. June, July, and August are the summer months. We eat fresh fruit and vegetables in the summer. We take long walks and play outdoors in the summer. Boys and girls enjoy being outdoors in summer.\n\nIn summer, I am very glad,\nWe children are so small,\nFor we can see a thousand things\nThat men can\u2019t see at all.\n\n\u2014 Laurence Alma-Tadema\n\nThe wonderful air is over me,\nAnd the wonderful wind is shaking the tree.\n\nFresh Air in Autumn\nWe need fresh air in autumn.\nWe need fresh air in September, when we start to school.\nSeptember is the first month of autumn. We need fresh air in October when the leaves begin to fall. We need fresh air in November when the days grow cold. We need fresh air during the three months of autumn. We can play outdoors in the three months of autumn. When the days grow cold, we wear warm wraps. The leaves turn yellow in the autumn. Some of the leaves turn red. When the leaves turn, the trees look bright. Boys and girls like to play games outdoors in autumn.\n\nFresh Air in Winter\nFresh air is needed in the winter. Fresh air is heeded in December, the Christmas month. Fresh air is good for us in January. January is the first month of the year. Fresh air is needed in February. George Washington was born in February. Abraham Lincoln was born in February. They both loved the great outdoors. Fresh air is needed even when it is wintery.\nIt is cold in winter. Fresh air gives us rosy cheeks. We need fresh air during the three months of winter. We wear warm clothing in winter. Then we can go out and enjoy the fresh air. We can play outdoors in winter time. We need fresh air in winter as well as in summer. We need fresh air all the year round. We can enjoy games and sports outdoors in winter, too. We need fresh air in winter, though it is cold. We sleep with our windows open in winter's coldest weather.\n\nWinter is coming. Go bring the sled. From out the shed, hunt up your mittens, boys; For well I know There'll soon be snow, And then for winter joys. We'll build a fort. Oh, boys, what sport! So pile the snow-walls high! We'll have a fight With bullets white \u2014 Ah, won't the snowballs fly! Hurrah! my chums! The snow-storm comes. Ah, now's the time for fun!\nThe flakes fall fast, it snows at last, The winter is begun. Oh, oh, oh, just see the snow, The ground is almost white! Tomorrow, boys, for fun and noise! I hope it will snow all night. Guess My Name I do not often visit dark, damp cellars. When it is very cloudy you do not see me. You see me only in the daytime. You can feel me, but you cannot hold me. I am good for plants. I am good for children. I warm the earth. I bring health to many people. Guess my name. [Sunshine] Sunshine and fresh air Sunshine and fresh air make us healthy. Sunshine and fresh air make us grow. Fresh air and sunshine help us do good work in school. Sometimes fresh air and sunshine make our cheeks rosy. Fresh air and sunshine are good for children. Fresh air and sunshine make us feel well. Fresh air and sunshine make us feel happy. Sunshine and fresh air make us.\nSunshine and fresh air make children feel well. Sometimes fresh air will cure a headache. Sometimes, if we are tired, fresh air will make us feel rested. Children should play outdoors in the fresh air. Children should get fresh air and sunlight all the year round. Outdoor games make children happy and healthy. Spend at least an hour out of doors every day. We will breathe pure air. We will live in the sunlight.\n\nThe Sun\nI never go to sleep, dear child,\nI\u2019m always shining bright,\nBut as your world goes turning round\nIt takes you from my light.\n\nAnd then I shine upon the moon\nAnd she shines back to you,\nSo that my light you often see\nWhen hidden from my view.\n\nAnd as your world goes turning round\nIt whirls you into night,\nBut brings 'round other boys and girls\nInto my shining light.\n\nAnd so I shine, forever shine,\nWhile you both sleep and wake.\nOpen the door\nOpen the door, let in the sun;\nHe hath a smile for every one.\nHe hath made of the raindrops gold and gems;\nHe giveth to us earth's diadems.\nOpen the door.\nThe Sun is in the Sky\nWhether fair, whether foul,\nBe it wet or dry,\nCloudy time or shiny time,\nThe sun is in the sky.\n\nIf we wish to be healthy, we should be clean.\nWe should wash our hands before every meal.\nWe should wash our hands before going to school.\nWe should wash our hands and face in the morning when we get up.\nWarm water with soap is best for washing the hands and face.\nWe ought to use good soap.\nWe should wash our hands before going to bed.\nOur finger nails should be cleaned every day.\nWe should wash our hands before handling food.\nWe should keep our hands clean at all times. The Little Clock There's a neat little clock, In the schoolroom it stands, And it points to the time With its two little hands. And may we, like the clock, Keep a face clean and bright, With hands ever ready To do what is right. We should keep our bodies clean. In summer, take a bath several times a week. Always take a bath more than once a week. Keep your feet clean. Wash your hair at least once a month. Keep your teeth clean. Use a toothbrush and good toothpaste. Brush the insides of your teeth as well as the outsides. Be sure to keep your neck clean. Keep your ears clean, too. Keep your clothes clean. If you are clean, you will feel better and look better. Thirty white horses on a red hill, Now they tramp, now they champ, now they stand still. Clean Teeth.\nGood teeth help keep us well. If we have good teeth, we can chew our food properly. If we chew our food properly, we shall have better health. We should take very good care of our teeth. We should brush our teeth after each meal. We should keep our toothbrushes clean. We should use only our own toothbrush. If we have a cavity in a tooth, we should go to the dentist and have it filled. If we do not do this, we may lose the tooth. Good food helps make the teeth strong. Milk is good food for the teeth. We exercise our teeth by eating hard foods. Apples and hard tack are foods that exercise the teeth. Baked potatoes with jackets are also good for our teeth. Clean white teeth make us look better. People like to see clean white teeth. Sometimes decayed teeth make us sick. Decayed teeth give us toothache. Decayed teeth often cause pains and infections.\nWe have aches in different parts of our bodies. We will take good care of our teeth. Do you know me? I come to careless people and give them much pain. I make children cry and keep people awake all night. No one likes me. No one wants me. I come to children who eat too much candy. I come to the boy who forgets to use a toothbrush. I come to the girl with a cavity in her tooth. Do you know me? [Toothache] To keep good health, your hands and face should be clean. The windows open while you sleep, and brush your teeth three times a day. To keep good health, this is the way. A good resolve Before I lay me down to sleep, each night I'll brush my teeth. Each morning when I awake, again my little brush I'll take - a thorough brushing to repeat, to keep my mouth clean and sweet. Be clean.\nWear clean clothes. Keep clothes clean with clean hands. Change underwear at least once a week. Never wear the same underwear at night as in the daytime. Live in clean houses. Children help keep the house clean. Eat clean food. Wash fruits and vegetables carefully. Ensure dishes are clean. The cook should also be clean and neat.\n\nSleep and Rest:\nSleep is essential for good health. Grown people require eight hours of sleep. Children need more sleep than grown people. Weak children need more sleep than strong children. Children need ten or twelve hours of sleep every night. Little children should go to bed at eight o'clock. Older children should go to bed at nine o'clock. Sleep with windows open. In winter, use warm covers on the bed.\nChildren should get plenty of sleep. All children need plenty of sleep. Sleep and rest help us gain weight. Sleep and rest make children strong and well. Sleep and rest help us do good work in school. Sleep and rest make us look well. Sleep and rest help us be happy. Sleep and rest keep us from being lazy. Sleep and rest keep us from getting nervous. Sleep and rest are good for boys and girls. Go to bed early and sleep very tight; you'll wake up in the morning feeling gay and bright.\n\nLack of Sleep\nIf we do not get enough sleep, we become nervous. When we do not get enough sleep, we do poor work in school. We shall not be well and strong if we do not get enough sleep. If we do not get enough sleep, we shall be underweight. Children who do not get enough sleep feel tired. Sometimes boys and girls who do not get enough sleep experience:\nWe are going to try to get enough sleep. We are going to sleep with our windows wide open.\n\nEarly and Late\nGo to bed early \u2014 wake up with joy;\nGo to bed late \u2014 cross girl or boy.\nGo to bed early \u2014 ready for play;\nGo to bed late \u2014 moping all day.\nGo to bed early \u2014 no pains or ills;\nGo to bed late \u2014 doctors and pills.\nGo to bed early \u2014 grow very tall;\nGo to bed late \u2014 stay very small.\n\nWe rest when we sleep. It rests us to do something different from what we have been doing.\n\nIf we have been sitting a long time, it rests us to stand.\nIf we have been standing a long time, it rests us to sit down.\nIf we have been quiet a long time, it rests us to exercise.\nIf we have been working hard, it rests us to be quiet.\nIf we have been working with our brains, it rests us to work with our muscles.\n\n- W. S. Reed\n\nWe rest when we sleep. It rests us to do something different from what we have been doing. If we have been sitting for a long time, it rests us to stand. If we have been standing for a long time, it rests us to sit down. If we have been quiet for a long time, it rests us to exercise. If we have been working hard, it rests us to be quiet. If we have been working with our brains, it rests us to work with our muscles.\nChange is sometimes restful. Boys and girls should get plenty of rest in sleep. When you are tired, you should stop and rest.\n\nGood Night Song\nTune: Good Night, Ladies!\nGood night, mother!\nGood night, daddy!\nGood night, parents!\nWe\u2019re going to leave you now.\nEight o'clock is time to go,\nTime to go, time to go,\nEight o'clock is time to go\nTo our little beds.\n\nEarly to bed and early to rise\nMakes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.\n\nOutdoor Play Brings Health\nEXERCISE\n\nHome Exercise\nExercise helps to keep well people in good health. Some of our work at home is good for us. When we help our mother, we sometimes help ourselves. We can get exercise at home. We can sweep the kitchen floor. We can make the beds. Boys can chop wood. Boys can carry in wood and coal. We can dust the furniture. Boys can shovel coal. In winter time we can sweep the snow.\nWe can go to the store for our mother. We can play with the baby. We can give the baby a ride. In autumn, we can rake the leaves. In summer, we help keep the lawn in good order. We can water the flowers and plants. We can pull weeds from the garden. We get exercise in many ways. We get exercise in our play. We get exercise by running. We run outdoors and play tag. We get exercise by jumping rope. We get exercise by playing ball. We throw snowballs. We skate and get exercise. We get exercise by playing games. In summer, we fly kites. We play \"hide-and-seek.\" We get exercise playing \"run-away.\" We coast down the hill. We skip and run and hippity-hop all the year round. An Exercise (Teach poem with actions) My hands upon my head I\u2019ll place.\nOn my shoulders, on my face,\nOn my hips, then at my sides,\nAnd now behind me they will hide.\nNext, I will lift them up on high,\nAnd make my fingers swiftly fly.\nI'll hold them now in front of me;\nThen I will clap them, one, two, three.\n\nPlace hands on head.\nPlace hands on shoulders.\nPut hands on face.\nHand on each hip.\nHold hands closely at sides.\nClasp hands behind back.\nHold vertically above head.\nMove fingers rapidly as in playing piano.\nArms stretched to front.\nClap three times in unison.\n\nExercises in spring and summer.\nThere are exercises for us in the spring\nand in the summer.\n\nIn the summer we swing.\nWe ride upon our little wagons.\nWe swim.\nWe run.\nWe skate on roller skates.\nWe play games of all kinds.\nWe play baseball.\nWe go fishing.\nWe jump rope. We play cowboy. Boys can saw wood for their mothers. Girls can sweep porches for their mothers. We can go to the store for our mothers. We can plant flowers and care for them. We pull weeds from the garden. Boys can cut the grass on the lawn. Girls can help indoors. We can always exercise in both work and play.\n\nAutumn and Winter Exercise\nWe get exercise in autumn and winter, too.\nWe rake leaves and burn them in the fall.\nWe gather nuts in autumn.\nWe sweep sidewalks.\n\nIn the winter we skate on ice skates.\nWe coast down the hill.\nAt home we throw snowballs.\nWe shovel snow off the sidewalks.\nWe play in the snow.\n\nIn the winter we carry coal.\nWe play hockey upon the ice.\nWhen there is snow we play \u201cfox and geese.\u201d\nWe make snow houses.\n\nIn autumn and winter we play outdoors.\nIt is good for children to play outdoors.\nThe right kind of exercise is good for us in autumn and winter. It makes muscles grow firm and strong, keeps people from getting too fat, strengthens the heart, benefits healthy lungs, makes the blood rich and pure, makes the blood flow faster, gives rosy cheeks, provides oxygen, makes us breathe deeper for more oxygen, makes boys and girls stronger, brighter, and happier, helps bodies get rid of poisons and wastes, and aids in digesting food for growth and better health. Boys and girls should have the right kind of exercise. Exercises for all.\nMost people get exercise. The baby exercises when he moves his arms and kicks with his legs. Children run, jump and skip. They play games too. Sometimes they help with the work at home. School children exercise in school and in the gymnasium. Older boys and girls play games and get exercise. Older boys play baseball, football and basketball. Olders girls play volleyball and basketball. Our mothers do the housework. Many fathers get exercise in their work. Farmers work out in the fields. Business men often exercise by walking to their work. Sometimes they play golf, too. Office girls and other women workers play tennis and golf. Almost every one gets some exercise by walking. Most people exercise both through work and play. Children need plenty of the right kind of exercise. Exercise makes the muscles strong. Exercise helps to make the body grow strong.\nEvery one should take exercise every day. Hints on Exercise: Severe exercise is sometimes hard on the heart. So don't overdo. Never exercise until you become very tired. Exercise when you are fresh. Late in the day is not a good time. Do not exercise much after a hearty meal. Take much of your exercise in the open air. If you cannot do this, exercise in a room with windows open. The air out of doors is fresher than that indoors. Always wear loose clothes when you exercise. Get all the fun you can out of your exercise. Learn to enjoy your exercise. Exercise Song: Tune: Three Blind Mice Exercise, exercise, Helps us keep well, Helps us keep well. We'll walk and we'll run and jump and skip, We'll play outdoors every single day. We'll skate on the ice or we'll coast down the hill for exercise. General Health Lessons: Posture. Bad posture may hurt us.\nIt makes a boy or girl look careless and shiftless. Besides, a lazy body often means a lazy brain. If you wish to keep well and look well, learn to stand, sit, and walk erect. Good positions help to keep us well. Always stand on both feet. If you stand too much on one foot, one hip may grow larger than the other. Throw your shoulders back. Keep your chest high. Then you will not grow round-shouldered. Grow straight and beautiful. Remember that good posture makes a boy or a girl look better, feel better, and think better. Good posture always pays.\n\nMany people are unkind to their feet. So the feet are unkind to them, too. They ache and cause pain. Painful feet make scowling faces and cause much trouble. You surely don't want corns, bunions, and squeezed toes. So take care of your feet. Wear clean stockings. Keep your feet warm and dry.\nWear the right kind of shoes. Ensure your shoes have good, broad heels. Ensure the shoe is long enough. See that the shoe is wide enough. Do not wear a shoe that pinches your toes. Remember that sometimes it is a good plan to be a little barefoot child. If you wish to enjoy living and walking, take care of your feet. Our eyes are the windows of our bodies. With them, we see the beautiful outdoors. With them, too, we peep into storyland and read about strange children in far-away lands. It pays to be good to our eyes. Let us remember these things: Never face the light when reading. Let the light come from the side or from behind. Never read in a dim light. The light should be bright and steady. Stop reading when twilight comes on. Do not try to read very fine print. The best position for reading is to sit and concentrate.\nTwo eyes and one mouth we have;\nThe reason for this must be\nThat we should learn that it will not do\nTo talk about all we see.\n\nWith our ears we hear the voices of those we love.\nWe hear the murmur of the brook and the songs of the birds.\nWith our ears we learn many things worth while.\nSo surely we should treat our ears well.\nWe should never pick at our ears.\nAnything sharp. We should not put anything into our ears. Without knowing it, we may injure our ears in this way. If we have trouble hearing what people say, we should have our ears tested. Deafness may come from tonsilitis, measles, or scarlet fever. If our ears ache or run pus, we should see a doctor at once. Remember that, if taken in time, most ear troubles can be cured.\n\nGerms are the smallest forms of plant or animal life. They are so tiny that we cannot see them with the naked eye. Some of the germs are our friends. Others among them are our enemies. The enemy germs may cause disease. They may cause trouble in other ways. They sour milk and spoil meat. They rot vegetables and fruit. Many germs bring disease.\n\nGerms cause diphtheria, pneumonia, and smallpox. Scarlet fever and measles are caused by germs. Germs also cause mumps and whooping cough.\nEven a cold is a germ disease. The best way to keep clear of germs is to keep everything clean. Germs multiply in dirty places. In clean places, there will not be so many of them. We will try to keep our homes clean to get rid of germs. Keeping our homes clean helps to keep away harmful germs. We will try to keep our hands clean so as not to have germs on them. We will keep our food clean so germs will not spoil it.\n\nMore About Germs\n\nGerms may be found in water, food, and on dishes. Sometimes insects carry germs. Sometimes germs are found in the fur of cats and dogs. We often touch things that are covered with disease germs. That is one good reason why we ought to wash our hands before eating. For germs often enter our body through the mouth. They enter through the nose, too. Sometimes pus germs come in through the wounds.\nA break in the skin. Strong sunlight will kill many germs. Boiling water will kill germs. Soap and water also destroy germs. Keeping our bodies clean helps to keep us free from harmful germs. Make your body strong so that it can overcome the germs if they get in.\n\nThe Fly\n\nIn the springtime, flies leave their winter hiding places. They eat a great deal and soon begin to lay eggs. They like best to lay their eggs in stables, in filth or in rotten or spoiled food.\n\nThink of it! One fly may carry as many as six million germs. One fly may lay as many as one hundred fifty eggs at one time. Flies like dirt and filth. They feed on rotten fruit and garbage. They enjoy the filth of the stables. From the stables, they come to our homes. They alight on the food on our tables. They like milk and so often go to the baby's milk bottle.\nThey visit sick people and annoy them. They carry disease germs on their feet to our food. If we eat that food, we too, may become sick. Flies are our enemies. They often make well people sick. So we must get rid of the flies. They may not always bring sickness, but they always carry filth.\n\nFighting the Flies\nWe must fight the flies. Swat every fly you see. Keep the windows and doors screened. Take away all filth. Do not keep decayed fruit or vegetables in the cellar or basement. Keep the garbage can as far from the house as possible. Be sure that the cover on the garbage can fits tightly. Keep the house and yard so clean that the flies cannot find a dirty spot in which to lay their eggs. If everyone does this, we shall soon be rid of these pests.\n\nMosquitoes there are ten kinds of mosquitoes. Two kinds carry diseases such as malaria and yellow fever.\nMosquitoes and yellow fever. Even when they don't carry disease, mosquitoes are a pest. They sting people and poison them enough to cause swelling and soreness. Mosquito bites itch. Mosquitoes hatch in swamps, puddles, and pools. Sometimes they are found in rain barrels or in dishes of water left outside. One mosquito can lay four hundred eggs at one time. A single can of water may be a hatching place for thousands of mosquitoes. Boys and girls can help keep mosquitoes away from their homes. They can ensure that water is not left standing in barrels, tubs, cans, or dishes. They can fill puddles with dirt. Perhaps they can even pour a little kerosene on the small pools and ponds. This will prevent mosquitoes from hatching. They can help get rid of mosquitoes by ensuring there are no damp or dirty places where they can hatch.\nBoys and girls can help keep rats and mice away in the following ways:\n\nRats and mice are unwelcome intruders in our homes. They consume our food and supplies. Their presence is unsanitary, and they should not be allowed to live in markets and stores. They cause damage and carry germs of diseases such as typhoid fever and diphtheria. Therefore, we must eliminate them.\n\nTo get rid of mice, we can set traps for them. Rat traps are also effective. In some cases, rat poison may be necessary to kill rats. We can also plug up holes through which rats and mice enter our homes to prevent their entry.\n\nA cold is an unpleasant germ disease. We should take care not to catch a cold. We should wear warm clothing when it is cold or damp.\nTo prevent colds, keep the body in good health. Eat the right amount of food. Get plenty of sleep. Exercise in the open air. Keep the body, mouth, and nose clean. Do not let the body become chilled by sudden cold or wet. Stay away from the person with a cold. Do not kiss the person who has a cold. Do not use the same cup, towel, or handkerchief that anyone else has used until it has been washed.\n\nWe should change our clothing when it gets wet with rain or snow. If we catch cold, we need plenty of handkerchiefs. When obliged to sneeze, cover the mouth and nose with a handkerchief. If we do not do so, we throw out a spray which is offensive. It is rude not to be careful about this. Boys and girls who have colds should be supplied with plenty of clean, fresh handkerchiefs every day.\n\nTo prevent colds: Keep the body in good health. Eat the right amount of food. Get plenty of sleep. Exercise in the open air. Keep the body, mouth, and nose clean. Do not let the body become chilled by sudden cold or wet. Stay away from the person with a cold. Do not kiss the person who has a cold. Do not use the same cup, towel, or handkerchief that anyone else has used until it has been washed.\nIf you have a cold, cover your mouth and nose when you sneeze or cough. Wear warm clothing in cold weather. Clothing should not be too heavy and should not bind the body in any place. Too heavy clothing makes us uncomfortable. Clothing that binds hinders free motion and prevents us from enjoying exercise.\n\nIn a healthful home, water does not stand on the basement floor. A healthful home has a clean, dry, airy cellar or basement. Decayed vegetables and fruit are not kept in healthful homes. Flies, rats and mice are not allowed to stay in healthful homes. Garbage is not kept near the healthful home. It is always placed in a tightly covered can away from the house. A healthful home has plenty of sunlight and fresh air. A healthful home is clean everywhere, inside and outside.\nThe people who live in healthful homes are clean and happy. We will keep our homes clean and wholesome. Boys and girls can help in many ways. They can help keep things clean.\n\nA naughty lad was Muddy Jim,\nHe hated soap and water.\nHe didn't bathe but once a month,\nHis nails he didn't trim.\nHis hair uncombed \u2014 oh, what a sight\nWas naughty Muddy Jim.\n\nBuy your food in the stores that are\nkept clean and well-screened.\nBuy your food from the merchant\nwho keeps his place free from flies, rats, and mice.\nBuy your food in the stores that keep\nfood under cover.\nBuy your food in the stores where the clerks are clean and tidy.\nBuy food that other people have not handled.\nBuy ice cream in the store that keeps\nglasses, dishes, and spoons clean.\nA child is not flies-upon fruit and vegetables. Buy meals in clean restaurants or hotels. Never purchase food in unclean places. An underweight child is one who is too thin for his height and age. He is not as strong as he should be. Are you an underweight child? If so, why are you underweight? Is it due to bad tonsils or teeth? Do you eat a great deal of candy between meals? Or do you drink tea and coffee? Can you answer the following questions with \"yes\"? Do you have plenty of fresh air both day and night? Do you get enough sleep? Do you exercise every day? Are you kept clean? Do you eat good food? Do you chew your food well? Do you play outdoors every day? Are you cheerful at meal time? If underweight, try to gain weight until you are of normal weight.\nGood food, exercise, sunshine, fresh air, plenty of water, and sleep will help you gain. If not, see a doctor. How strong are you? I like a lad of muscles big, And lungs of shouting size, Of active feet and figure trim, And brightly beaming eyes; A lad who well can run a race, And push a paddle well, Or breast the waves with fishy grace, Or raise a schoolboy yell.\n\nTobacco is a poison. It hurts young people more than it does older people. Tobacco injures the heart. It dulls the mind. Cigarettes are bad for boys. Boys who smoke cigarettes do not grow as they should. They are apt to be underweight and under height. The use of tobacco is an unclean habit. The chewing of tobacco leads to the filthy habit of spitting. Smoking has a bad effect on the breath, teeth, and mouth. Tobacco weakens the body.\nIt makes us more likely to take diseases. Then too, tobacco costs a great deal of money. It is foolish to waste money on tobacco, pipes, cigars and cigarettes. Tobacco never helps a boy to learn his lessons. It does not help him to get work. Tobacco never does any good. In the end, the use of tobacco always harms people. A boy who wishes to be a fast runner must never use tobacco. A wise boy will never use tobacco in any form.\n\nAlcohol is found in wine, beer and whiskey. Alcohol is always an enemy. Alcohol makes the muscles weak. Alcohol dulls the mind. It lessens the strength and shortens life. People who use alcohol are more likely to take diseases than those who do not use it. They cannot stand cold and heat as well as those who never drink alcoholic liquors. Alcohol brings sadness and trouble. Remember it is not wise nor safe to use alcohol.\nDo not put pencils or money in the mouth. Do not put fingers into the mouth. Do not put anything into the mouth that has been in another person's mouth. Do not put anything into the mouth but food and drink. Never drink from a glass or cup used by any other person until it has been washed. Do not pick your nose. Do not wipe your nose on your hand or sleeve. Do not shout in anyone's ear. Always use a clean pocket handkerchief. Do not spit if you can help it. Never spit on the floor or sidewalk. Never cough or sneeze in another person's face. Always wash hands before meals. Sleep long hours with windows wide open. Take a bath more than once a week. Brush teeth at least once every day. Drink at least a quart of milk every day. Do not drink tea nor coffee.\nEat fruit and fresh vegetables every day. Drink four glasses of water every day. Play outdoors every day. Do not use tobacco nor alcoholic liquors. For Good Health I will keep the Health Rules and try to do right. I will brush my teeth well both morning and night. I will drink lots of water, healthy to be. I will drink sweet milk, never coffee nor tea. I will eat wholesome food to keep well and strong. I will go to bed early to make my nights long. I will sleep with my windows wide open. I will get fresh air at night, good for me and for you. Don't worry. Don't hurry. Live a simple life. Don't overeat; don't starve. Eat wholesome foods. Sleep and rest enough. Breathe fresh air day and night. Keep your body clean. Be cheerful and happy. Try not to get angry or excited. - Maria Halsey Stryker, Secrets of Health\nThink kind and healthful thoughts. Always look for the good and the beautiful. Do something every day to make someone else happy.\n\nHeight and weight table for boys.\nHgt. In. Yrs.\nYrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Il74\nPrepared by Dr. Thomas D. Wood.\n\nAbout what a boy should gain each month.\nAge Age\nTry and do as much better than the average as you can. Height and weight to be taken in house clothes, without shoes. Weigh on the same date each month, about the same hour of the day. Age, the nearest birthday.\n\nHeight and weight table for girls.\nHgt. In. Yrs.\nYrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs. Yrs.\nPrepared by Dr. Thomas D. Wood.\n\nAbout what a girl should gain each month.\nAge Age\nTry and do as much better than the average as you can.\nHeight and weight to be taken in house clothes, without shoes. Weigh on the same date each month, about the same hour of the day. Age, the nearest birthday.\n\nA Better Health Card\nName\nAge -\nEnter your own weight. How much should you weigh for your age and height? (See Tables, pages 148-149.) How much do you need to gain? How much did you gain last month?\n\nMonth Height Actual Weight Normal Weight To Gain\nSept. Oct. Nov. Dec. Jan. Feb. Mar. Apr. May June\n\nSuggestions to Teachers\n\"A Better Health for Little Americans\" is an outgrowth of oral composition and health teaching in a second grade. In the first grade, the book may well serve as a teacher's guide in health instruction. In the second and third grades, it should be used as a supplementary reader. In addition, it can be used as a resource for health-related activities and discussions.\nThe book should be placed in the school library for independent reading by individual pupils. It aims to do three things: increase reading ability, aid in preparation for reading for information, and promote health. Many sentences are the children's own, making the book simple enough for their immature minds. The vocabulary is largely a part of their speaking equipment, but in some schools, preliminary work on vocabulary may be necessary. The short sentences facilitate reading for thought and promote greater fluency, enabling the child to gain in reading ability. In recent years, primary schoolrooms have been flooded with readers based on legend. Often, the child memorizes the story.\nThe material is interesting and valuable, but results in only one type of reading - for enjoyment. A one-sided development is the result. It's important to prepare for reading for information in the first three grades, as much of the reading in later grades and adult life is for this purpose. Better Health for Little Americans aims to assist in this process. However, the real purpose of the book is to help little Americans secure better health for themselves. Merely reading the book is not sufficient; the teacher must be alert and interested in the project, supplementing it with activities that aid the process of securing better health. It's her responsibility.\nTo prepare the child's mind for reading material, monthly weighing, health drives of various kinds, and securing correct health habits are helpful. The teacher may have ongoing health drives such as going to bed at eight, drinking milk, eliminating coffee, and cleaning teeth. If she prepares charts to show each child's progress and announces the winners of the health race, she may stimulate even greater interest. Special attention should be given to the underweight child. No stereotyped suggestions can be given; every teacher, according to her own originality and initiative, will think of the most effective ways to secure results from her own group.", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"}
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