HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Clinton News Record, 1937-04-22, Page 2*'AGE 2.
E CLINTON NgIVS UECORD
THURS., APRIL 22,:1937.'
The 'Clinton News .Record
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auranee Agent. Representing 14 Fire
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la:n, Seaforth; Secretary -Treasurer,'
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TIME TABLE
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Going East, depart 3.00 p.m.
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:MALTING GRADES OF
BARLEY VARIETIES
At this season of the year when
farmers are deciding the crop and va-
rieties to be grown in 1937, the Na-
tional Barley Committee. wishes to
draw attention to the fact that, ac-
cording to Circular No. • 65 of the
Board of Grain Commissioners, O.A.
C. No. 21, Mensury, Mensury-Ott. 60
(Chinese), Manchurian, Gartons, and
Peatland, are the only six -row varie-
'ties of barley that will be admitted
'into the malting grades, namely, No.
1 Canada Western No. 2 Canada Wes-
tern and No. 3 Extra C. W. Six -Row
'While for feeding purposes, the new
smooth awn sorts, namely Regal, Wis-
consin No. 38, and Newel may be de-
sirable, they cannot be graded as
malting. The fact that Trebi is grad-
ed separately also indicates that this
variety is not acceptable in the malt-;
ing grades. As feed, it may be grad -
•ed into No. 1, No. 2 Trebi, or No. 3
Extra C. W. Trebi, but brings no'
-higher price than No. 3 C. W. barley,
the best feed grade.
rances Hod s®n
Burnett'
SYNOPSIS
Marco Loristan was the kind of a
boy people looked at the second time
when they had looked at him once.
Ile was a well-built boy of 12, intelli-
gent looking, and well-mannered. He
and his father had travelled a great
deal and the boy was proficient in
several languages, so that he felt at
home in whatever country he was
staying. Marco knew that they were
Samavians, that there was trouble
and bloodshed in Samavia at present.
Ills father had told him the story of
the Lost Prince, who might one day
return to Samavia and restore order
and peace. At present the Loristan's
are in London, England, and Marco
hacl encountered several interesting
people, among them, "The Rat," a
crippled boy who commands a group
of willing boys—the boys listen at-
tentively as Marco speaks to them.
Later Loristan and Marco have a
long talk about Samavia, and the Lost
Prince, who had disappeared five
hundred years ago. A secret society,
with members in many European
countries, were preparing to put his
descendant on the throne of Sama-
via and end the civil wars and blood-
shed in the country. At a meeting
of the Squad, The Rat forms a sec-
ret society for Samavia among them-
selves.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
He heard his approaching footsteps
in a few minutes, and was safely in
the shadows before he could be seen.
When the policeman passed, he came
out and walked slowly down the road,
looking on each side, and now and
then looking back. At first no one
'vas in sight, Then a late hansom -
cab came tinkling along. But the
people in it were returning from some
and were laughing and talk-
ing, and noticed nothing but their own
joking. Then there was silence a-
gain, and for a long time, as it seem-
ed to Marco, no .one was to be seen.
It was not really so long as itappear-
ed, because he was anxious. Then a
very early vegetable -wagon on the
way from country to Covent Garden
Market came slowly lumbering by
with its driver almost asleep on his
piles of potatoes and cabbages. Af-
ter it had passed, there was stillness
and emptiness once more, until the
policeman showed himself again on
his beat, and Marco slipped into the
shadow of the wall as he had done
before,
When he cane out into the light, he
had began to hope that the time
would not seem long to his father. It
had not really been long, he told him-
self, it had only seemed so. But his
father's anxiousness would be greater
than his own could be. Loristan
knew all that depended on the com-
ing of this great man who sat side
by side with a king in his carriage
and talked to hien as if he knew him
well
"It might be something which all
Samavia is waiting to know—at least
all the Secret Party," Marco thought. f
"The Secret Party is Samavia,"—he,
started at the sound of footsteps,!
"Some one is coming!" he said. "It
is a man"
It was a man who was walking up
the road on the same side 'of the
pavement as his own. Marco began
to walk toward him quietly but rath-I
er rapidly. He thought it might be
best to appear as if he were some boy
sent on a midnight errand—perhaps
to call a doctor. Then, if it was al
stranger he passer!, no suspicion
would be aroused. Was this matt as
tall as the one who had driven with
the king? Yes, he was about the
same height, but he was too far away
to be recognizable otherwise. He
drew nearer, and Marco noticed that
he also seemed slightly to hasten his
footsteps. Marco went on. A little
nearer, and hewould be able to make
sure. Yes, now he was near enough.
Yes, this man was the same height
and not unlike in figure, but he was
much younger. He was not the one
who had been in the carriage with
His Majesty. He was not more than
thirty years old. He began swinging
his cane and whistling a music -hall
song softly as Marco passed him with-
out changing his pace.
It was after the policeman had
walked round his beat and disappear -
ed for the third time, that Marco
h eai
d footsteps echoingat some des-
tance down a crossstreet. After
Itening to make sure that they were
approaching instead of receding in
another direction, he placed himself
at a point where he could watch the.
Length of the thoroughfare. Yes,
some one was coming. It was a man's
figure again. , He was able to place
himself rather in the shadow so that
the person approaching would not see
that he was • being watched. The
solitary walker' reach a recognizable
distance in about two minutes' time..
fle was dressed in an ordinary shop
made suit of clothes which was rath-
er shabby and quite unnoticeable in
Its appearance. His common hat' was
worn so that it rather shaded his
face. But even before he had crossed
to Marco's side of the road, the boy'
had clearly recognized him. It was
the man who had driven with the
King!
Chance was with Marco. The man
crossed at exactly the place which
made it easy for the boy to step light-
ly from behind him, walk a few paces
by his side, and then pass directly be-
fore him across the pavement, glanc-
ing quietly up into his face as he
said in a low voice but distinctly, the
words "The Lamp is lighted," and
without pausing a second 'walk on his,
way down the road. He did not slack-
en his pace or look back until he has
some distance away. Then he glanc-
ed over his shoulder, and saw that
the figure had crossed the street and
was inside the railings. It was all
right. His father would not be disap-
pointed. The great man had come.
IIe walked for about ten minutes,
and then went home and to bed. But
he was obliged to tell himself to go to
sleep several times before his eyes
closed for the rest of the night.
CHAPTER VIII
An Exciting Game
Loristan referred only once during
the next day to what had happened.
I '"You did your errand well. You
were not hurried or nervous," he said,
-The Prince was pleased with your.
calmness."
No more was said. Marco knew
that the quiet mention of the stran-
ger's title had been made merely as
a designation. If it was necessary
to mention him again in the future,
he could be referred to as "the
Prince." In various Continental coun-
Itries there were many princes who
were not royal or even serene high-'
nesses—who were merely princes as
other nobles were dukes or barons.
Nothing special was revealed when a;
man was spoken of as a prince. But
'though nothing was said on the sub -I
ject of the incident, it was plain that
much work was being done by Loris -
tan and Lazarus. The sitting -room
door was locked, and the maps and
!documents, usually kept in the iron
box, were'being used,
I Marco went to the Tower of Lon -I
don and spent part of the day in liv-
ing again the stories which, centuries '
past, had been inclosed within its
massive and ancient stone wails. In
this way, he had throughout boyhood
become intimate with people who to
most boys seemed only the unreal
creatures who professed to be alive in
schoolbooks of history. He had learn-
ed to know thein as men and women
because he had stood in the palaces
they had been born in and had play-
ed in as children, had died in at the
end. He had seen the dungeons they
had been imprisoned in, the blocks on
which they had laid their heads, the
battlements on which they had fought,
to defend their fortressed towers, the
thrones they had sat upon, the crowns
they had worn, and the jeweled scep-
ters they had held. He had stood be-
fore their portraits and had gazed
curiously at their "Robes of Inves-
ture," sewn with tens of thousands
of seed -pearls, To Iook at a man's
face and feel his pictured eyes fol-
low you as you move away from him,!
to see the strangely splendid gar-
ments lie once warmed with his liv-
ing flesh, is to realize that history
is not a mere lesson in a school -book,,
but is a relation of the Iife stories off
men and women who saw strange and
splendid days, and sometimes suffer-
ed strange and terrible things.
There were only a few people who
were being led about sight-seeing.
The man in. the ancient Beef -eaters'
costume, who was their guide, was!
good-natured; and evidently fond of
talking. He was a big and stout man,'
with a large face and a small, merry
eye. He, was rather like pictures . of
Henry the Eighth, himself, which
Marco remembered having seen. He
was specially talkative when he stood
by ,the tablet that• marks the spot
where stood the block on which Lady
Jane Grey had laid her young head.
One of the 'sightseers who knew lit-
tle of English history had asked some
questions about the reasons for her
execution.
"If her father-in-law, the Duke of
Northumberland, had left that young,
couple alone -- her'and her husband,
Lord Guildford Dudley—they'd have
kept their heads on. He was bound to
make her a queen, and Mary Tudor
was bound to be queen herself. The
duke wasn't clever enough, to manage
a conspiracy and work up' the people,
These Samavians we're reading about
in the papers would have done it
better. And they're half -savages."
"They had a big battle outside Mel-
zarr yesterday," the sight -seer stand-
ing next to Marco said to the young
woman who was his companion.
"Thousands of 'ern killed. I saw it
in big letters in the boards as I rode
on the top of the bus, They're just
slaughtering each other, that's what
they're doing."
The talkative Beef -eater heard him.
"They can't even bury their dead
fast• enough," he said. "There'll be
some sort of plague breaking out and
sweeping into the countries nearest
them. It'll end by spreading all over
Europe as it did in the Middle Ages.
What the civilized countries have got
to do is to make them choose a de-
cent king andbegin to behave them-
selves."
"I'll tell my father that too," Mar-
co thought. "It shows that everybody
pis thinking and talking of Samavia,
and that even the common people
know it must have a real king. This
must be the time!" And what he
meant was that this must be the time
for which the Secret Party had wait-
ed and worked so long—the time for
the Rising. But his father was out
when he went back to Philibert Place,
and Lazarus looked more silent than
ever as he stood behind his chair and
waited on him through his insignifi-
cant meal. However plain and scant
the food they had to eat, it was al-
; ways served with as much care and
I ceremony as if it had been a banquet.
±"A man can eat dry bread and
drink cold water as if he were a gen-
tleman," his father had said long ago.
"And it is easy to form carless ha-
bits. Even if one is hungry enough
to feel ravenous, a man who has been
well bred will not allow himself to
look so. A. dog may, u man may not.
Just; as a dog may howl when he is
angry or in pain and a man may not"
It was only one of the small parts
of the training which had quietly
made the boy, even as a child, self -
;controlled and courteous, had taught
him ease and grace of boyish car-
riage, the habit of holding his body
well and his head erect, and had given
him a certain look of young distinc-
tion which, though it assumed noth-
ing, set him apart from boys of care-
lessly awkward bearing.
"Is there a newspaper here which
tells of the battle, Lazarus?" he ask-
ed, after he had left the table.
"Yes, sir," was the answer. "Your
Sather said that you might read it. It
is a black tale!" he added, as he hand-
ed him the paper.
It was a black tale. As he read,
Marco feltas if he could scarcely
bear it. It was as if Samavia swam
in blood, and as if the other countries
must stand aghast before such furious
cruelties.
"Lazarus," he said, springing to his
feet at last, his eyes burning, "some-
thing must stop it! There must be
something strong enough. The time
has come. The time has come." And
he walked up and down the room be-
cause he was too excited to stand
still.
How Lazarus watched him! What
a strong and glowing feeling there
was in his own restrained face!
"Yes, sir. Surely the time has
come," he answered. But that was
all he said, and he turned and went
out of the shabby back. sitting -room
at once, it was as if he felt it were
wiser to go before he lost power over
himself and said more.
Marco made his way to the meet-
ing -place of the Squad, to which The
Rat had in the past given the name
of the Barracks. The Rat was sitting
among his followers, and he had been
reading the morning paper to them,
the one which contained the account
of the battle of Melzarr. The Squad
had become the Secret Party, and
each member of,,it was thrilled with
the spirit of dark plot and adventure,
They all whispered when they spoke.
"This is not the Barracks now,"
The Rat said. "It is a subterranean
cavern. Under the floor of it thou-
sands of swords and guns are buried,
and it ispiled to the roof with them.
There is only a small place left for
us to sit and plot in. We crawl in
through a hole, and the hole is hid-
den by, bushes."
To the rest of the boys this was
only an exciting game, but Marco
knew that to The Rat it was more.
Though The Rat knew none of the
things he knew, he saw that the
whole story seemed to him a real
thing. Thle stiruglgles of Samavia,
as he had heard and read of them in
the newspapers, had taken possession
of him. His passion for soldiering
and warfare and his curiously ma-
ture brain had led him into following
every detail he could lay hold of. He
had listened to all he had heard with
remarkable results. He remembered
things older people forgot after they
had mentioned them, " He forgot
nothing. He had drawn on the "flag-
stones a map of Samavia which Mar-
co saw was actually correct, and he
had made a rough sketch of MeI-
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zarr and the battle which had had
such disastrous results.
"The Maranovitch had possession
of Melzarr," he,explained ;with :'fever-
ish eagerness.: "And the laroviteh•
attacked them from here," pointing
with his finger. "That was a mit-
take. 'I should, have attacked 'them
from a place where they would not
have been expecting it. They expect-
ed attack on their fortifications, and
they'; were ready to defend them. I
believe the enemy could have stolen up
in the night and rushed in here," point-
ing again.
Marco thought ht
h
e was
right. The Rat had argued it all out,
and had studied Melzarr as he might
have studied a puzzle or an arithme-
tical problem. He was very cleyer,
and as sharp as his queer face leaked.
"I believe you would make a good
general if you were grown up," said
Marco.:'I'd like to show your maps
to my father and ask him if he does-
n't think your stratagem would have
been a good one."
"Does he know much about Sama-
via?" asked The. Rat.
"He has to read the newspapers be-
cause he writes things," Marco ans-
wered. "And every one is thinking
about the war. No one can help it."
The Rat drew a dingy, folded pa-
per out of his pocket and looked it
over with an air of reflection.
"I71 make a clean one," he said.
"I'd like a grown-up man to look at it
and 'see if it's all right. My father
was more than half drunk when I
was drawing this, so I couldn't ask
him questions. He'll kill himself be-
fore long. He had a sort of fit last
night."
"Tell us, Rat, wot you an' Marco'll
'ave ter do. Let's 'ear wot you've
made up," suggested Cad. He drew
closer, and so did the rest of the cir-
cle, hugging their knees with their
arms.
"This is what we shall have to do,"
began The Rat, in the hollow whisper
of a Secret Party. "The hour has
come. To all the Secret Ones in Sa-
mavia, and to the friends, of the Sec-
ret Party in every country, the sign
must be carried. It must be carried
by some one who could not be sus-
pected. Who would'suspect two•boys
—and one of them a cripple? The
best thing of all for us is that I am
a ,cripple. Who would suspect a
cripple? When my father is drunk
and beats me, he does it because I
won't go out and beg in the streets
and bring him the money I get. He
says that people will nearly always
give money to a cripple. I won't be
a beggar for hint—the swine—but I
will be one for Samavia and the Lost
Prince. Marco shall pretend to be my
brother and take care of me. I say,"
speaking to Marco with a sudden
change of voice, "can you sing any-
thing? It doesn't matter how you do
it,"
"Yes, I can sing," Marco replied.
"Then Marco will pretend he is
singing to make people give him mon-
ey. I'll get a pair ofcrutches some-
where, and part of the time I will go
on crutches and part of thetime on
my platform. We'll live like beggars
and go wherever we want to. ' -I can
whiz past a man, and give the sign
and no one will know. Sometimes Mar-
co can give it when people are drop-
ping money into his ,cap. We can
pass from one country to another
and rouse everybody who is of the
Secret Party. We'll work our way in-
to Samavia, and we'll be only two
boys—and one cripple`— and nobody
will think we could be doing anything.
We'll beg in great elties and on the
highroad."
"Where'll you getthe' money to
travel?" said Cad.
"The Secret Party • will give it to
us, and we sha'n't need much. We,
could beg enough, , for that matter
We'll sleep under the stars, or under•
bridges, or archways, or in dark cor-
ners of streets. I've done it myself
many a time when my father drove
me out of doors. If it's cold wea-
ther, it's bad enough; but if it's fine
weather, it's better than sleeping in
the kind of place I'm used to. Com-
rade," to Marco, "are you ready?"
• (Continued: next week)
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