Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1914-08-02

rom the yellow envelope lou re abruptly.
 Merry nodded He caught glimpse of WentW orth name and his o~n | upon the tinsy thing they had called the bond. EnoCh leaned back against the pillow and began to destroy the paper with slow dellberation, tearing it across and across until 1t was re l duced to a heap of flakes which Hut 1 tered down into the hollow of his gaunt palm He shook them into the | envelope and handed it to Merry, who | took it without < word and slipped | if between the leaves of the bank I book.
 I If you can trust me Boy, until the ! right time comes and reach the right | place, 1 will make full restitution be. fore the world
 Don't, old man, let us bury this l now and forever Good God, isn't it restitution enough to have saved my | life?'
 | No" Enoch spoke with swift pas sion, mo, it isn't restitution. Don't stand in my way. You have to humor sick men, you know. Besides, l want to lay ny soul bare to you now, All drew. Had ] been a Catholic 1 should have done 1t to a priest long ago, l l suppose"
 Co, ahead, Enoch, Ill listen" he said gently.
 l | Wentworth turned in bed and | clasped his hands around one bent | knee. Years ago. he began brus- quely, Il was wandering about in the | Tennessee mountains on all assign ment when l fell ill with a chap who taught psychology ill Yale. He was nothing wonderful, but his science was 1 fascinating. Time and again, since those days. l have planned, if l could l find the leisure, to go into psychology l and study the thing out. Still, any l man who knocks about the world as 1 l have done learns to puzzle things 1 out for himself. There must be some thing alluring, though. to be able to reduce the promptings of ones own soul to a science and then to work out a problem ill yourself. Don't you | think so?'
 T should imagine so. Still, it's an unopened book to me- Merry admit. | ted.
 We used to sit and talk every night | around the campfire. I remember once this young MacGregor explained to me why a man we had both known committed murder. He killed his wife first, then, horror-stricken, shot himself. It's a common enough story, you read it in the papers every day l of the week. but it came close to us because we had both known the fellow well. He was a decent, quiet, cheerful citizen, with genial kindly way about him. His taking off seemed a mystery. None of us had even seen | him angry. Suddenly lie turned into a flaming fjend, a murderer, and sui eide. Nothing but insanity or the Yale mans theory explained it."
 What was his theory?"
 Wentworth paused for minute with a haunted look in his eyes He claims that the morals of every human being are mol0ed during the first twenty years of his life. Into a fairly decent career there comes occasionally-for the life of me l cant remember his technical name for it-I should call it a moral lesion. Some sin which man has committed, and you might say lived down, before he was twenty,
 crops out again years after and it
 conquers him. Each time he may
 repent and turn over new leaf. The
 world looks on him not IS an Admir-.
 able Crichton perhaps, but as toler- ably good fellow. Then suddenly,
 without the ghost of a warning, even
 after he imagines he has outgrown the
 tendency to that particular sin, there
 comes q temptation. and he goes under
 as if his back bone was gristle. He falls
 as quick c5 that!"
 Wentworth paused for a moment
 and snapped his fingers. Curious
 isn't it?" he added.
 Tt certainly is curious agreed
 Merry.
 "When the career of this murderer
 was brought to the light of day, they
 found that once when he was school boy, and again, when friend stole his
 sweetheart, hs might have committed
 murder if weapon had been at hand
 The third time q gun lay close to his
 elbow.
 Andrew Merry did not speak, but
 sat watching Enoch with bewilderment
 in his eyes.
 II am going to tell you about two
 lesions which occurred in my own life
 There was third-you know about
 that one yourself"
 :