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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1916-8-10, Page 2THE LAPSE OP ENOCH WENTWORTH 1' ORTh By ISABEL GORDON CURTIS, Author of "The Woman from Wolvertons " CHAPTER IK.—(Continued): • " Yes, he told me, only it seemed so strange, sohard to believe after our I talk that day at the point, that some - hoer I cannot understand it." Merry watched her keenly. He was; throttling a temptation to tell every- thing that had come between him and the sunshine of • existence: He felt sure of the girl's sympatly ; he knew she would understand. He had begun i to realize his own dependent nature.; Filen there had been his mother, then for years he had leaned upon Enoch's strength and friendship When he was left alone it was outer darkness. Every, fiber of his being lor:ged not so much for redress as for trzieleretattdiieg sad f sympathy. "Miss Dorcas, I will begin at the' day when I left you and—" Suddenly be realized he ceudd not tell the story of Entail's disloyalty to her. 'Miss Dorcas, I need y cur help—terriltly." "I am ready to help you in .any way I can," she an were''d quietly. She knew he was nerving himself. to a con- fession, and she understood what an ordeal it was to the man. She cru sed the room and ;aid a paper before hint, pointit:g to the bold headlines • stretched aeroes the top tai the The' wterde ffeirly letipcii at Marry. TREMENDOUS SURPRISE Ineech Wentworth the f'cr:ling Drama- tist. I?e read ea down through the eol- • men. I' •fleew jeurnaliete :tad bat del together to give Enoeh a royal intro; dttc ier., Merry's mime was not mead timed. theugh there wee: fro etteet ref- erence to a fereies etas, whe bad the leading part ii: eo s,ide•ration. Oswuld was referred .d to as a new eerne r in the rants f Neiv Yea: rh lu•ieage>rs. His lavish p otinettem of 'Scott wort ifs drama was deeeribed in figures ape pro; thing prodigality. Merry read it throe h to the last sentence, then the peeper fell to the floor and he burned hie feeti in his h ::ds. While Dorcas watched, her heart , ached for him. It was hard to bold in cheek the nothing touch she would h ve given to a woman or to a child. i "Oh !" he said in a piteous whisper, "It wee :such a mistake." Ile did not answer or lift Ms head , frctn his heads. "I r"lraded with Enoch. I told him • it wae all wrong. terribly wrong. for; him as well as for you ; that when you returned he niust set thing straight.; I told Kira it wee not even collabora-; teen ; it was wholly and distinctly; your play,yours alone--" Ccltahoraian ?" repeated Merry,• perplexedly, reisixtg her eyes. "[ie told Die everything," cried the; girl hurriedly. She was trying to save' him the full confession of his down -I fall. She/lid not wish to listen to it. "Everything "" repeated Merry in• credulously, Oh 1" cried the girl aghast. "How, you have altered" "I have." Merry spoke in a hoarse; u i e t h,sper. He returned to hi,. chair by, the fire and bent to warm his fingers by the blaze. There was another long silence. Dorcas was the first to break it. "Even if it were against your inch.. nations, would you do something to make some one very happy, some one who believes in you—who cares a great deal for you and about your fu- ture ?" Merry spoke gently. "Miss Doreas, I'm afraid you are mistaken. There is nobody in the world to care." She res e to her feet and, leaning on the mantel, glanced down at him with eyes frem which embarrassment bad:: suddenly fled. "One person cares very much. I do. I have set my heart on your sue. cess. Yeti have a great fax you work for it ? Besides, I airs saif• Isle" Her eyes shone with eageruesse valet to play 't'erdelia.' Mr. Os- wald has cffored nye the part. I have studied it. I could play it to•mcrrow if y ou would be my acher." :lferry tur:le�d wteith a qulek gesture• its if to push temptation away front him." "Don't 1" he cried. "Ah, Miss Dorcas. dant go into stage life !" "I shall go into it sooner or later." She spoke with a quiet determination. "I feel sure I can play 'Cordeelia ; ' be. sides, it would be so much easier to maize a lar>;in;iing with Enoch and gir. Oswald and you. Merry rose and paced for a few rdnutce about the ream, then turned to the w1ndow and gazed out at the tis st lled city. The sleet of midnight had eliargtel to a raging stern.. The tiled drove the stow in sudden flux. teas:, piling it lu drifts across the eqt are. 'Mies Dorcas," he said. "come here." The girl crewed the room. "Why. She cried, "it is a fearful night 1" "Yes It's a fearful night for the homeless. Do you know where I nuiglrt have foiled shelter tonight if it had not been for you ? Perhaps; there's a hallway somewhere that I could have slipped into, and for an'. hour or two the police would hav" left me undisturbed. I might have found an empty beach on a ferryboat, or—, the Bowery missions are open ; only. before one can make up his mired to seek a lodging thc•ue, they are filled to ettffleatioil. ' Dorcas shivered. "If I had known during these weeks that anybody cared—or believed in me—perhaps I should not have gone so far down the hill. I did not dare • even to hope that you thought of mei again." "Andrew," said the girl, "I care so: muck that I cannot tell you. Some queer strain in my nature makes me- happiest when I have some one to care for. Girls at the convent used to: come to me in all sortd of difficulties the ones I loved best, were the ones who needed me most. They called mei 'Little Mother.' " "'Little Mother,'" repeated Merry; then he laughed huskily. If the girl had known men she would have seen' absolute famine for love, for sympathy and human understanding in the eyes' that were bent upon her. "I take back what I said a few min- utes ago, Miss Dorcas, about the stage being no place for you. Women like, you are needed there." "Thank you," she said with a happy smile. "Won't you come back ? Such, an opportunity is waiting for you. Besides, I could never play 'Cordelia with anyone but you, and you must be my teacher." Merry did not answer immediately. Dorcas had grown accustomed to the Iong pauses in their conversation and waited quietly. When he looked up' their eyes met—his pleaded with her during one speechless moment for alI his shortcomings, for shirked respon- sibilities esponsibilities and failures. ",Mis Dorcas," he said, "when a man has lost hope, ambition, his faith in human nature and everything that makes life worth while, if he has gone down into the depths and still has the desire come to take up life again, is there any quality left that will help him?" "Yes," Dorcas moved as if by sud- den impulse and laid her fingers upon the man's arm ; "he has honor. So long as one is a man of honor, there is no end of a chance." "A man of honor." As he repeated the words his face paled suddenly. It -was the same attribute which Enoch had acoorded to him. Dorcas watched him intently, her eyes full of eager anticipation. She could., see him undergo some strange mental struggle. When he looked at her, his face had changed. Instead of apathy there were lines of grim deter mination about his mouth. "Miss Dorcas, he said slowly, f"make "Gardena' the woman you are I yourself. 1 am weals and broken now,. It as 'John Esterbrook' was ; still a } chance `came to me at the end. I will I do the best 1 can --if you stand by me." Doman stopped for a second. With, a caressing touch she swept the lock from 'his forehead: "I promise to "Yes. everything. Oh " if you had come beck only two or tree days ago things weeld have been different." He rose abruptly and crossed to the window. "Miss Dorcas." he did not turn to' !colt at her, "what was the worst thought you had of me when Enoch told you—what happened ?" The girl paused for a minute before she answered. "I thought you were— weak.': "Weak " The man repeated the word as if trying to comprehend its meaning. "You should not have allowed Enoch to stand as the author of your play,' no matter what the circumstances ' were. He is not happy over it to -day. • His nature seems to have changed. He is not easy to live with even, Oh, I wish it had never happened." Merry waited in silence. "Things must come right, even if this lie has been told." She pointed at the paper which lay at her feet. "There is one way. You can play the convict so wonderfully that people must realize that you yourself created the part." "I shall never play the convict?' Merry's voice was slow and resolute. "Oh !" .cried Dorcas, "who can ? Why; I thought your heart was set on the character." "It was—once." "I cannot understand." The man did not attempt an explana- tion. "Andrew Merry," she hesitated as if searobing for words which would not wrong her brother, "did Enoch do yon any—any injustice ?" She waited for an answer during an infinitely long silence, so xt seemed to her. Then the actor spoke abruptly. "No. As I look back on it now, 11 'went into it with my eyes open. I sim- ply Learned that there is no way tot gauge human nature." Again there was silence. Dorcas! was trying to understand, trying to be loyal to her brother, even while her heart, aching with unspoken sympathy, turned to Merry." "Wily don't you want to play 'John Esterbrook ?"" she'asked quietly, "I don't suppose I have a decent rea- son, except that when X --gave up tie p*: y I lost all interest in it. _ 'John E.-ter!:rook'" is no mcre to me to -day than 'S.*_as Bagg., , t stand by you," she whispered" "Good night." CHAPTER X. "Do you mind if I am atrociously frank with you ?" It was Grant Aswald who spoke. Enoch Wentworth and he sat far back in the darkened orchestra at the Goth- am, watching a rehearsal, Wentworth nodded, but turned a startled glance upon the man, beside him. '"Simply because I know how power ful your play is, I want to suggest a touch that will make it stronger." "What V' "i nderstand, this is not critl [stn, If you don't think well of it we'll never mention it again." Oswald approached the subject diplomatically. He bad begun to discover a. strangely uneven temper in Enoch. There were days when he stood upon. the heights of triumphant anticipation, then came intervals when everything and every- body were at odds. "What did you think of .changing ?" "It is not changing," Oswald spoke thoughtfully. "What I have in mind is elaboration. You have made 'Cor- delia ' a loyal, tender woman, but the mother ought to be more of a fell to her. Sho is cruel now, vain, selfish and deceitful but—she Is not bad enough. When it can be done, Iie- lieve in choosing an actress who has something in common with the role she is to p1 y. ('haraeter comes out every time, even in .feting. Don't you agree with me :' "To a certain extent." " Of course. in cases of downright genius it is different. There is Merry. It we accept tragedy, I believe he could portray any character from gay- est ccmedy to intense emotion. I pre- dict for your sisters Cordelia a snc e eves that will stir New York to entitle, s lasm. but she could never play any - thing but a sweet. true -hearted woman. No matter how hard she tried, she would fail in the part of a false, un-` scrupulous adventuress. Do you see what I am driving at ?" "I think 1 do." Ni / . ,,• _! The Value of Underdrainage. What has struck me most of late is the vane and importance of tile drainage ,and how little farmers avail themselves of the opportunity of lin- proving their lanri in this manner. I will quote a few particular instances of the effc effect of file drainage that I have come across. Our farm has a certain atpount of tile -drains where they are most need- ed, but has by no means a thorough system. They were put in before my time at the rate of about one drain a year, A field we had in corn last year was always wet on the south side when the rest of the field was fib to work, and consequently was sel- dom worked up well, and, on account of this and its low-lying condition, never raised more than half a crop. .A few years ago a five -inch Elrain was put` through it, and although this did not drain it thoroughly, this part of the field always raises one-third bet- ter crops. Last year was wet and we had the field in corn. At one time, on such a year, there woeld have been practically nothing on this strip but the tile did the business, and it, went 100 bushels to the acre and the rest of the field about fifty, Another field was in oats last year t and seeded down to alfalfa. There are several drains running across the field, bub at quite a distance apart. When I mewed the field I received an object lesson. A few rods on each side of the tile drains there was a fine, thick crop, but farther away, the alfalfa was badly winter -killed and hardly worth cutting. If the field bad been thoroughly under -trained it would easily have yielded two loads per acre. As it was it barely went a "When you read your play to Die load to the acre and almost all of that elan and Esterbrook's" wife tool. came from over the tile drains. shape before my eye;e. ?Alla Paget\i a intended to put two fields in canto to my memory. 1 asked you then oats this year. There were both good to reserve the part for her, because if I can judge human nature, she is fields and of similar soil.t One is well undersained, the other has no the woman's prototype." drains in it. The drained field was " Mies Paget muet be a fiend incar- fit early, worked up nicely, and was nate if Mrs. Esterbrook' . s not bad •one of the first sewn in the vicinity. enough for her." The other field was wet and stayed "I'm not as merciless as that " 14t wet until it got too late for oats, so Sea - me tell you what I judge her by. Sea- WO decided to plow it and planb it in son after season she was cast in Lon -"corn. The weather suddenly changed don companies for women of the lower to the other extreme and became hot type or of bad morals. Sometimes she and dry, We were finishing anoth- was a cold-blooded, scheming elven.er corn field and by the time we were turess, or a creature so cruel, so heart -;ready to plow this field it was too less and unwemanly that she seemed hard and remained so until it was too a defamation of the sex. Miss Pagett late for corn. So in this instance was making a name for herself when!lack of tile drainage meant the loss an idiotic manager cast her as a sweetof a crop. These are just a few of refined. home•loving woman. I neve;any similar personal experiences in sat through such a pitiful failure. S t this line. played it for two nights, then she was thrown aside. She had a long run of Now, I may be wrong in making hard luck. Managers forgot haw re- such a general assertion, but from markably she had played bad woman. my personal experiences tile-dra - eans at least one-third better or an increase in production of The failure as a good woman was laid age ni up against her." crops, 33 per cent. "' I thought she had a tremendous Now by a recent law in sucees last winter." Ontario a farmer without sufficient (To Be Continued). funds can, I believe, borrow up to $1,000 from the township for the pur- pose}30�i' COINS WEAR OUT. of tile drainage, and be charged interest on it in his assessment, to- - gether with his other drainage taxes, Loss of Weight That Occurs Is Doubt- at the rate of 6 per cent. If he can less Caused by Abrasion. invest this money at a profit of 33 In the latest report of the British per cent., and only pay 6 per cent. mint, Sir Thomas K. Rose, a well- for ib what better investment could he known metallurgical expert, calls at- desire? Why is he so slow to avail tention to the effect of grease derived himself of this golden opportunity1— from the sweat of the fingers, or from Reginald Jukes, in Farmer's Advocate. other sources, in accelerating the wear of coins, which is usually attributed Cow Comfort in Summer. entirely to abrasion. Sir Thomas says How stables have been generally de - that the fatty acids of the grease have signed with the object of keeping a corrosive action upon the metal- cows comfortable in winter only. This Copper in particular, even if present may have been all right in the past, only in small quantity as an alloy for gold or silver, is converted into an oleate, stearate, or other salt. Haagen Smit of the Utrecht mint, found by analysis that the dirt on a bronze coin contained thirty-six per cent. of cop- per in the form of powdered corn - pounds of the fatty acids. When the coin is handled the dirt is in part de - 1 the coin undergoes a loss but conditions are rapidly changing in the dairy industry, and it is becom- ing quite as necessary to proide for stable comfort in summer as in winter. The practice of milking in the barn is now common, and will become more so as the use of the milking machine in- creases. Instead of throwing green feed. over the pasture fence to the tacnea, an cows we now have the summer silo of weight. Gold or silver is not read and feed them in the stable. As fly converted into salts, but removing the copper leaves the less easily at- tacked metals ill a spongy form that dairy methods improve the Hy nuis- ance claims more attention, and every offers little resistance to abrasion. In one knows that flies bother the cows new coins the rapid loss of weight that less in a coot, dark place than in the . n most good airy occurs is doubtless caused at first by farms the en cows are kept in for at lea t abrasion, but when the rough edges a part of the day in the warm months, have been removed, chemical action may prove to be of the first -import- ance in the succeeding deterioration. Oriental Courtesy. continuous stream of fresh air A year or two ago, says Pearson's • •ng pase- Weekly, a distinguished European. Nel through bhe stables. The pee - Weekly, in this country is from diplomat paid an official visit to the west, to east. In order to catch the Sultan of 1Vlorocco. most of this the stable should lie During the audience bhe diplomat north and south. with the windows in noticed with some surprise that not the east and west side. This ar- one of the three clocks in the Audi- rangement agrees with the winter de- ence chamber was going. Very delis- mends for lots of . sunshine. The cately he mentioned bo the. Sultan that windows should be entirely removable. his clocks had all stopped, and hinted Ventilating shafts anti feed shutes that he would like to present him'e shrould be made so that they will with one that would be more reliable. carry off a maximum amounb of warm The Saltan thhnked him. air. The stable fiat: uses should be "But my clocks are e'tcellent time- • such as to offer the minimum ob- keepers," he added with a smile. struetion to the free circtalation of, air "They were all going •until just be- This is one of the chief advantages fore you carie; but Iliad them all I see in niebal stable fixtures. At stopped, as I did not dosire, during night when the cows are out every - Your Excellency's all too brief visit thing should be kept open so as to to be reminded of the flight of time!" provide for a complete chdage of air before they are put in again the fol- 3ifarriegc iz indeed a failure when dowing -lay.. Cows kept in a cool, Dive :,-i•or:-s cele. before the bride gets well ventilated stable fora few boos &.1 the rice cut of her hair and this should not be lost sighb of when stables are built or remodelled. ` The chief consideration in provid- ing for 'summer comfort is to have a ,each day during the hot sunim.er menthe will show their appreciation in an increased milk flow.—"Dairy- man" in Farm and Diary, To Prevent Overheating,. Horsemen will soon need to be on their guard against overheating. Most cases of overheating can be pre- vented by keeping a few simple things in mina Give at least a pailful of water to each horse about 10 o'clock, and again at 3 or 4 o'clock on a hot day. Be very careful with a horse thai+s a little out of health, if you are work- ing him on a hot day. Look out for a horse that after sweating freely suddenly stops sweat- ing. Put such a horse in the shade as soon as possible and give a moder- ate drink. Do not put a horse not in good cone clition for hard work, in the centerof a four -horse team in hot weather. Work carefully on a hot day when the atmosphere is moist and heavy. A horse can hardly get too hot to water, but one must regulate the amount by the temperature of the w a - ter•. In case of an attack of overheating the horse should be taken to the shade as soon as possible. A treat- ment of the surface of the body, parti- cularly of the head, with cold water should be given until the temperature is within a degree or two of normal. Stimulants, such as whiskey or brandy, well diluted, should be given as early as possible. In most cases it is better to plan to avoid over -heating than to plan to treat the horse for it.—M. H. Rey- nolds, University Farm, St. Paul. GUNS ON SNOWCLAD PEARS Difficulties of War Preparations in Mountain Regions. A description of the diffiealties which have been overcome by the Ital- ians on that part of the frust were the fighting takes place on mountain peaks coated with eternal snow is given by a correspondent of the Lon- don Daily Mail. The villages in the lower ground be- hind the front have been aroused from. their accustomed appearance of sleepy comfort. In their streets are swarms of soldiers on their way to the front or back from it for a holiday. Thous- ands are camping out in the neigh- borhood of the villages or billeted on the inhabitants. Constant streams of motor vehicles rumble through the villages on their way up the steep road, bearing ammunition, food and supplies of all sorts to the batberies, trenches and dugouts on the peaks. The road over which these vehiclea travelwas before the war a mere hill path now the military engineers have transformed it into a modern road "graded, metalled and carried by cunningly devised spirals and turns three-quarters of the way up the mountains." The correspondent) says: "It is a notable piece of military engineering, but itis not merely that. It will serve as an artery of com- merce when it is no longer needed for bhe passage of guns and army service wagons. There is nothing tempor- ary or makeshift about it. Rocks have been blasted to leave a passage for it and solid bridges of stone and steel thrown across rivers. "Because bhe Austrians started with the weather gauge in their fav- or, avor, being on the 'upper side of the great ridges, it was necessary for the Italians to get their guns as high as they could. The means by which they accomplished these tasks were described to nee. They would seenn incredible if one hard not ocular de- monstration of the actual presence of the cannon among these inaccessible crags. "There are some of them on the ice ledges of the Ortl .y iv,uuu Ieet above the sea level, in places which ib is by way of an achievement for the amateur climber to reach with guides and ropes and porters and nothing to take care of but his own- skin. But here the Alpini and Frontier Guides had bo bring up the h vy pieces, hauling them over the snow elopes and swinging them in midair across chasms and up knife edged precipices, by ropes passed over timbers wedged somehow into the rocks. Y was shown. a photograph of a party of these pioneers working in these snowy soli- tudes lash winter. They might nave been a group of Scott's or Shackle - ton's men tailing in the Antartic wild- erness." By means of a suspension railway made of wire rope with sliding bas- kets stretched across chasms of great depth, oil, meat, bread and wine are sent up, for the soldier must not only be fed, but must be fed with particular food to keep the blood cine culating in his body in the coli air and chilling breezes of the snowclad peaks. Kerosene -stoves in great numbers havebeen sent elafb to make the life of the mountaineer ` soldiers more comfortable. The cost of living can never go so .high that it won't seem worth it to most of us. The Secret of Flaky Pie Crust 1t'a In our Retie Book --with a lot of otherr ecipes for making good Flee. Bat --we're going to telt you right here how a nays to have the top a cruatflne nndf ktkyr•'t+n to dhowbars the under crust lust right, even when using fresh f.rne, Jest use peert §9N Instead of all wheat flour. Try It, aUd trove% Get a package of DENSON'S at your grocers, and write to our Montreal Office for copy of our new recipe book "'Desserts and Candies." that tel:shove THE CANAMA STARCH CO. MITE) nrOHSREAt, CARDINAL. BRANS[QND. 218 seeORT WILLIAM. A NOTED ECCENTRIC. Earl of Sandwich Believed Ile Pos. sessed Psychic Healing Power. • The death of the Earl of Sandwich. has removed an interesting figure in English life. The Earl, who wan nearing hie seventy-seventh. birthday, was known for his eccentricities. He believed he possessed psychic healing. powers and had been able to cure, many mental and physical illnesses. After the South African war he had some sixty wounded officer, brought to his home, where he serv- ed in the capacity of both nurse and physician, and announced that he was, gratified at the success he obtained. His patients ranged from dwellers in palaces to those in the lowliest walks of life and included a Hindu monk; who was treated in his monastery; a Mohammedan, who was treated in the mosque he served, and a Hindu. princess, who was brought 600 miles by her husband to ford Sandwich. He announced the possession of healing powers before the University College of London two years ago. Ab the time he said he had never failed in his treatment of sufferers. He said he could not explain hie power, but knew the results and express ed the belief that many persons possess the same gift without being aware of it, The Earl was fourth in descent from the peer, who, by ordering a writer to place a piece of meat be- tween two slices of bread and bring it bo hien as he sat at cards, gave the sandwich to the world. He was for long an ardent admir- er of Mme. Melba, and it has been said that the singer could Slave been the Countess of Sandwich if she had so desired. The Earl never married. Some years ago in protest against the custom among women of wearing their hats at luncheon he ordered his servants to wear their hats while serving the meal. With the death of the Earl an :ent- eriean woman, formerly Miss Alberta Sturges, daughter of the late William Sturges, becomes Countess of Sand- wich. Her husband, the new Earl, is George Charles Montagu, a nephew of the late holder of the title. The cynic is a man wfio thinks everything he doesn't approve can't possibly be worth while. For many years past the populo- tion of Germany has been increasing at the rate of about 900,000 a year. In 1871 the population was 41 mil- lions, and by 1910 it had risen bo al- most 65 millions. eilaliEMITEZIFAUZSTIMMIMOZONEM 11 Preserved Raspberries will keep their natural color if you use the pure cane sugar which dissolves at once. Order by name in original packages. 2 and 5 -Ib cartons 10 and 20 -ib bags PRESERVING LABELS FREE Send red ball trade -mark cutfrom alias or carton to Atlantic Sugar Refineries Ltd. 1 ower iildg., Montreal ;,