The Huron Expositor, 1921-01-07, Page 71i
. •
ale
'1'4ovgan BERT SAYRE
• THE MUSSON CO., LTD,
Toronto
(Coatinnad from' last week.)
• -
"After I am dressed," said he.
"Come back in half an hour when'
am dressed and I'll pay you." .
"Very well, then," replied Mrs. Ma
lone, "I'll come up again in half an
hour by the clock. And no tricks
Vni watching the hall, so you mink
get away. Do you hear? I ni watch-
ing the hall,"
l
More nodde his head approving -
""Quite. right, Mrs. Malone," said
he. "It's nice to know there is no
danger of the hall being stolen. Sure,
what woad we do without it?"
"Bah!" exclaimed the landlady, and
with her head held scornfully high,
she marched out slamming the door
by way of rebuke te the levity of
her lodger.
"My heyel" exclaimed Buster,
breathing more freely. "She's more
wieious than usual to -day, Mr.
Moore."
"1 know, lad, but we can't blame
her," replied the peet "She is a
good old soul, and. ne she says, it
was her husband who first whacked
knowledge into me."
"Hi suppose, 'ee 11 1. • asfine seine-
ard."
"Well," s .11 Mee- "Iti, els ell
right when h
hee 'yes bet le, was
never sobe- tiirt lee- ,,,e01. !le was
always in . r,
the spirits boinir bin, llow•
ever, that It's nothin 11,` NV:Lb the
nt. Is tee ledder .1, !r to 1 et.
roof ge the house root: door ,it Dv,
winilifw?"
"Yes sir," said Blistor "You can
go hoot the si,mt, did
day." •
"Good " •-l-en w ,n't.
have to disturb Mrs. M•eene's evatelt
en the hall,"
"NO, sir that you e ,n't."
Moore looked at the hey getvely
end got a smile in r,•l'irri wh,ch
extent could compare 1 -,ii un?av,rably
with one of Lord Castiertiagh's most
expansive yawns,
"Buster." said the poet, slowly and
sadly, "there is something I feel it
my duty to say to you. Let es be
in sober earnest for onc,• my lad."
"Yes, sir," assented the 'boy un-
easily, !stopping to pull the bulldog's
ragged ear. "Hat your service, Mr.
Moore."
Moore Wag silent for a moment and
When he did speak it was with an
effort quite apparent.
"Buster," he said, softly, "it is
time we came to an understanding.
1 am •hectil over ears in debt as you
know. 1 owe every. tradesman in the
neighborhood, and as many out of it
es I could get introduced to. I am
a failure as a writer, bitter as it is
for nie to acknowlelge it. Only a
little while longer, and it will be the
streets and starvation, 13ueter."
"Don't, sir don't," said the boy, a
queer little break in his voice, but
Moore continued:
"I'm wronging you in keeping you
with me, laddie. Don't waste any
more of your time with me. I am
only holding you back."
"Hand if Hi went, sir" asked the
hoy, pitifully, "wot would becorne-hf
you?"
"I?" murmured Moore, choking
back a sob. "There isn't much doubt,
im there?"'
"Who'd black your boots for you,
hand 'eat your shaving water, hand
listen to your poetry, sir?" demanded
Buster, wiping his eyes with his shirt
sleeve. "Blw me hif 'aven't a
void in me 'ead. My heyes is runnin'
something( hawful hall day."
"fit's best for you Bster," insisted
Moore, laying his hand affectionately
on the boy's shoulder
"Hit ain't hanythink o' the kind,
hand 1 won't go, si)e" declared Buster
in an apologetically defiant tone.
"No, sir, Hi won't go."
"You w-on't, Buster?"
"%Vat would that young lady hover
at Drury Lane think o' me, hif I
left you halone?"
Moore sighed at the thought of
her.
"She wouldn't care, Buter," he
murmured.
"Wouldn't she? 'Then she las an
..'eart of )dee, that* wet she *
hall the beautiful pomea we 'a
tient 'Qr."
I ,
"But • you are getting no wage
Buatert lintoted Moore.
"WenArk„ theihoy simmered, "t
sit*non,,, /ea. That% more'
you 'es, hisn't it?"
His voice, died away in a snuff!
and ,he clutched his muster by th
arm annetilluRIY. •
"You won't send me away?" h
. asked, pittt
ioefly. "You won't, WI
yeu,. Mr. Moore?"
Mctore, touched to the heart at th
lad's generous 'dewition,lelt the tear
gathering in his eyes, but forced them
„back with en effort, though his vole
shook as he answered:
"My, dear, brave, little fellow, how
- can I doubt Providence when there
is one such loyal heart nearane
I Stay, Buster. We will rise or' fat
together."
- As he spoke he held his hand ou
• to the boy, who took it joyfully.
. "Yeasts, that we will, sir. Yo
hand me, and Lord Castlereagh."
The bulldog, as though understand-
ing the situation, thrust his cold nose
in Moore's hand, and Wagged his tail
sympathetically as the poet crossed
to the fireplace after patting the ugly
head, rough with the scars of years
of battling.
"Boater " continued Moore, without
Melling round.
"Yessir?"
"May Cod bless you, lad," said the
poet, bowing his head on the mantel-
piece to hide the tears that would
eome in spite of him.
"Thank you, sir."
Then as Moore dropped into the
old arm -chair beside the hearth, the
bov, res.tived to wake him from his
hnhappy mood, burst into song, ren-
dering ene of his master's most re-
cent prodnetions in a style worthy of
ee,es,er-grinding machine
i
"Beef in the stilly night
II imher'e chains 'as hound n'
'The sh• dews hof twther days
',leatherette, round tne."
51 ''r' rotieed te mental activity
I e reeked sat bolt upright in
•q`,.••••• •••'!" le crid, reprov hu
tee bee eentinued nt the top of his
!ern, tlenterli he had net heard.
"Tee 'miles, the tears,
11 f heyieh years -"
,r,e' • em, a book against the
across the room, missing
Put" er, wl, , had dodged, by a few
Pee Ifeevn's Sake stop that cater -
Moore. "You put niv
typ11 en edge."
feted Castlereagh became victim of
hallucination that the hook throveh
l' Mot -re was a rat of „large size-,
(111(1 was fast shaking the life out
et it when Buster descended upon
him mid effected a rescue.
"Blow me, Lord Castlereagh, if
you bein't a knocking the stuffin' hout
of 'The Rivals.'" he remhrked re-
rovingly,
"Out of the rivals?" said Moore,
with a bumf. "Faith, Id like to try
the seine game on mine, Buster. It's
the simeelest way, after all; isnt it,
doggie?"
Lord Castleretegh became quite
eidely, er!, possessed by a puppyish
fancy, decided upon an immediate and
vigorous pursuit of his stumpy tail
es the peoceeding next in order,
proeecuteng his endeavor with such
enthusiasm that he collided violently
with everything in the room, includ-
ing. Moen, and Buster, in the space
of moment, abandoning his enter-
prise only when winded as a result
of running broadside on against a
wall.
"Will you heat your dinner now,
sir?" asked Buster.
"Dinner? What have you?"
"Leaving hout the rest of the bill
of fre, there's a slice hof 'am hand
'ail a loaf of bread, hand a little hof
that Hirish wisky your sister sent
vou from Hireland fer your birthday."
Rummaging in the cupboard, Bus-
ter speedily brought to light the little
strew te jucontaining what was lel of
the girl's gift, and as Moore se ted
himself nt the table, which also serv-
ed as degk when needed, the boy
placed the whisky before him.
Ah!" said the poet, his eyes glis-
tening as he uncorked it. "That's
the real old stuff. That's what puts
the life into e man, eh, lad?"
As he spoke, Moore held up the
jug, and shutting an eye endeavored
to neer into it.
"Theee isn't much life left in it,
Buster."
Then, taking 'a whiff, th, poet
smacked his lips, but placed the jug
on the table, its contents untouched.
"No," he said, shaking his head, "it
too preeinus to waste. I must save
that, laddie."
"Yessis " said Buster, "fel- some
joyous hoccasion. 'Ave hanother
mell, sir?"
No, noel exclaimed Moore, waving
the boy away. "Get thee behind me,
Satan, Don't tempt me, Buster, for
I am not over strong in that direc-
tion. Cork it up tightly. They say
it evaporates and it's ecto good to
have even a drop wasted."
Buster stowed the little jug in the
depths of the cupboard and returned
briskly to where Moore was eating
his dinner.
"Hi've seen the sheen -mews sir,"
he announced.
"Ah, did you?"
"Yessir, The boots is hall done
hand ready to he delivred."
"Good enough," commented Moore.
"Did you appoint a time for them to
emn"eiVd
Hid that, sir. One will be 'ere
at four, the hother at twenty min -
Ines past the bower," replied the
youth, shaking kis finger warningly
at Lord Castlereagh, who manifeseed
more interest in the eatables than was
in strict accordance with good man-
ners. •
"First rate, Buster," said Moore.
approvingly. "1s there any other
news?"
The boy hesitated a moment, bet
with an effort continued: .
Yessir, that ain't hall. FIi ht a
confession to Make, air."
"You hve?" said Moore in a aur -
hied tone. "Well, let's have it, my
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"Yessir—"
"One moment, Buster," exclaimed
the poet, an expression of alarm coin
ing over his faee. "One- moment in
which to compose myself. Now I NM
calener. Tell me, Buster, tell me you
haven't secretly married Mrs: Ma-
lone?"
arried 'ell!" exclaimed the lad,
his nose turning up in disdain at
the idea.
"r would be much the same thing,
thinking," chuckled Moore. "Well,
that is one peril escaped. Go on with
your confe.ssion."
"You know that pome you set me
with to the Times, sir?" began Bus
ter, still ill al ease.
Lest Rose of Summr,'
wsn't it?"
"Yessir. Hi didn't take it to 0.,
Thri. didn't? Why not, Bunter
itt Wk0i this way, sir, just 'as Ili
wuz COnn
tig by Carltoe
n 'Ous who
should Hi see stepping hut ' c
er ar
rie• but Ftz'erbert 'erself,
looking that s..veet and beautiful has
woidd nrike Voll' mouth water."
eSt• thee), is a woman in it, after
11 ?" olisere).1 Moore. '''T was ever
ths, Buster."
"Yessir, so 1101. does Ili do but rip
hw
orf the raniter hand run hup to ee.
with the hand sticks hit int
'er 'and. "riett's for yoes u,' sIli
hand tips me 'at hand is horf through
the, crowd like a hantelope."
B
Nicely duet,, uster," said Mooe.
"It may came in handy for her lady -
hip. She can make curlpapers of it.
Well you are forgiven, my boy."
"Thank you, sir," said Buster.
greatly relieved.
"Was my name signed?"
"Yessis, hand your haddress too."
"Very good, Buster. Perhaps she'll
come to call and bring the Prime)
of Wales with her.
"Well, sir," replied Buster, "hit's
my hi -minion has 'ow neither hoe. Nen
is one bit too good for hus."
"That sounds like treason, Buster."
"Does it, sir?" cried Buster, ap-
parently delitehted to hear it.
A knock at the door disturbed both
servant and master, as well as arous-
ing suspicions of the worst nature
'in the bosom of Lord Castlereagh,
who growled on-dnously.
"Oh, Lord!" exclaimed Moore, ris
ing hurriedly from the table, which
was saved from an upset by the quick
hand of Buster. "Is it the rent
again?"
Buster tiptoed to the door as the
knock was repeated, and whispered,
after listening:
"Hit's all right, sir. Who is it?"
"It's Mr. Dyke," declared the per-
son desirous of entering.
Mnore's face fell.
"With another treasonable poem, I
suppose," he muttered. "Worse
hiek,,
"Wot does you listen eo 'cm for?"
asked Buster disgustedly, leaving the
door as Moore crossed to open it.
"Ah, thet is the question," said the
emt, softly.
"Hi knows". remarked Buster un-
der his breath. " 'Cos 'ee's 'er fa-
ther, that's why"
"Come in, Mr. Dyke," said Moore,
opening the door. "How are you to-
day sir?"
"Oh, very well, Thomas," replied
the old gentleman, entering with a
self -mastered air,, "How do you,
my boy?"
Mr. Dyke's dress showed that he
was enjoying prosperity. His coat
and hat had hardly lost their appeal..
anee of newness. while the rest of
his coseume, though evidently not of
recent purchase, was of good qualty,
greatly exceeding in costliness the
apparel in which he was wont to gnrb
himself in Ireland.
- "1 hive nothing to complain of S(1
far as health is concerned, Mr. Dyke.
Buster. a chair for the gentleman."
"I have come to read you a poem,
Thomas."
"Indeed?" said Moore. "Fluster,
two chairs for the gentleman."
"You will have your joke, Thomas,"
obsereed Mr. Dyke, with an indulgent
smile, as he seated himself.
"I haven't much else, sir," said
Moore, "that's why I value it so
highly. How is Bessie, ir?"
"She is well rend working hard on
her new part. The new piece ig pro-
duced at Drury Lane in a week."
"I know," said Moore. "Beesie is
getting on, isn't she?"
"Indeed she is, Thomas," replied
Mr. Dyke, proudly. "The manager
says if she does as well as he ex-
pecte in the next piece, he will allow
her to play Lydia in a revival of Mr.
Sheridan's great comedy, 'The Riv-
ets "
. _
•
Thomas ".
ot I, aus re-
"Hisk. Wet
celved our,; minis
Scheel so* thirtY PMI'S Out. Dr.
-Whyte taught us bolita,"Ahaid admits
even now that lie op:WOO Sheri-
dan but little better thana dunce."
"So I have heard,..Mr. 'Sheridan
mself declare," observed Jdr. Dyke.
great man, 'Monne, '5 great
OP
Ma
"Yee know him, sir?" asked Moore
a shade of envy for a moment per-
ceptible in his voice. ,
"I met hint a fortnight ago at Sir
Percival's house. .Needless to say I
was honored, Thomas."
"Quite needlese, sir. Was he
sober?"
"Part of the time," answered Mr.
Dyke, reluctantly.
"Ah," said Moore, "that must have
been early in the evening. Does
Bessie know him?"
"Yes, Thomas. He was so kind as
to give her his personal opinion of
the airs and graces, siiiteble as busi-
ness for the ehdractene of Lydia, for
be will have no one even mention the
possibility of her not obtaining the
part."
"Look here now," said Moore, quiek-
ly. "You just bear in mind what sort
of a killer that same gay old lad is
with the ladies. , I'll not have him
making love to Bessie, if I have to
tell hios so on the street. He is an
old rake, sir, and there is ne more
dangerous man in London, for all his
years."
"Tut, tut, Thomas," said Mr. Dyke
in benign eeproof. "Mr. Sheridan is
a married man."
"I 'know," replied Moore, doubt,
fully, "but I have often heard that
they are the worst kind. By the
way, how is that. distinguished
litilciielli4thropist, Sir Percival Love -
"You must not sneer at , him,
Thoma. Bessie and I owe every.
thing to him."
"Never fear. He- expects to be
paid one way or another." -greeted
Moore, full of suspicions glut :Woe
lutely lacking in proof.
"Thanks to his influence. my
verses are much in demand. Ne t
doubt you have seen u number of
them published?"
"I have that, and read them , ever t
ly. A h, you ton are getting ip in
vviirld, Mr. Dyke."
"I flatter myself it is so," replied
the old gentleman prompously. "Shall
I speak a word to Sir Percival in yew.'
favor, Thomas? He could help you
much, being, as you know, an inti t
mate friend of the Prince, hini•ielf." s
"Thart you, no," answered Moore,
savagely. "I'll get where I lien with- ,
nut his assistance or rot where l am b
contentedly, You don't see Sir l'er
cival as I du, sir." . b
"Evidently not," replied Mr. Dyke.
blandly. "I find in hint a firm and
powerful friend, who bas exterted
himself much in my behalf, while b
you regard hint as—"
"My view of him isn't fit for such
lips as yours, Mr. Dyke," interrupted 11
Moore. "We will say no more about
him. I only hope you may be correct d
in your opinion of the gentleman." 1
"Marc you heard the news from 11
home?" asked Mr. Dyke. -polishing. his p
glasses, preparatory to unrolling the to
manuscript, which he had placed up- ti
on the table between them,
"Not I. sir. It's a fortnight since re
have heard from my mother, though ti
I write to her twice a week. Father
is ailing, no doubt. He is getting on eo
in •years, you know. But then their
news is only of Dublin. / have heard In
nothing from Daiky at all."
"Winnie Farrell was married to
week,
Captain..Arbuckle last Wednesday in
I of
Moore gave a start. to
"You don't say so, sir? Are you sh
sure?" -
"Sure as man can be. They are
off on their honeymooning now. I
had a letter from Squire Farrell him- Ti
self. By the way, Terence has come an
to London and is studying law."
"I hope the rascal will keep out of
my way," said Moore, viciously. "A to
sneak, if ever there was one." ro
"You quarrelled with him, Thomas." Te
"I did, sir, and licked him well,
too. Tell me, Mr. Dyke, is Bessie to
still angry with me?" ' sh
The old gentleman sighed and put we
on his glasses. in
"I am afraid so, Thomas," he said,
gravely. "She never mentions your m<
name. though I do my best to interest
her in your doings. Now for tfie
poem, lad. It is a satire, Thomas, a
satire on the Prince of Wales. Oh
I cook him to a torn, Thomas. Ah,
how he would squirm if I dared to
have it published."
Moore leaned over the table and
took the manuscript from his guest
in a manner more vigorous than po-
lite.
"If yon did have it published, you'd
be dropped by society like a hot pot-
ato, tend Bessie would lose her posi-
tion •-dfterury Lane," he said. "You
would he in a nice fix then, wouldn't
you. Robin Dyke, Esquire?"'
"If worst came to worst. even then
I would still have the pension guar.
anteed me by Sir Percival," replied
the elder poet, obetinately.
"You would," assented Moore, eer-
phatically 'for about five minutes.
Mr. Dyke. Irishman and pateept that
you are, you do wrong evay time
you write a line that compromises
your position here in London. Thanks
to the efforts of Sir Percival, you ,
have been nicely received: your vers-
es are purchased and printed; enc-
cese Ruch as you have never Imre,
before is yours. and yet in spite of
all this that old taint in you leads
you to write in secret poems which
would be your ruin if they ever saute -
the light. Good God, sir! Rave you
no thought of Bessie at all? You
must think of Bessie. You must."
Mr. Dyke, thus forcibly rebuked,
ew red in the face, and seemed for
moment about to hotly point oat ,
he diaregard paid by his yotritec.,
riend to the difference in their ages,
nt his better nature prevailed as bis
ense of justice showed him ,plainly
at Moore was in the right; so, af-
r a shrift silence, he accepted bis
ost's criticism in the same apiritit
as offered.
"You are quild he,
luctantly, "quite right, nay lash Mit
I
tet -but yI7F, '
4beralgt enPV
eardonal vent Act my la
thrirWing a load off my
Thatlutz."
.0 it
-priffitliter'ttr-OPettlihe"dec
' I te'die Of eld affa
1147(.- — • ,
oki lag indignant • 2 . - ... -,. '
"Yen 'alrfbilr choice hof e .
a i
aft nuidain,"-repilied Buster, el. se ' eie ,,,,
1
door. .
11;,,f "You limb!" said she, bit ..'",
standing the lad's nnoeuli/ to': ..f: .0 ,1.'uee
re "P0 not have sr i h1 ...„..)' •411%,4k,,,-..
ar oinadhaun cursing me."
r "Curse you, Mrs. Malors 7 - 1, " "Ent;,ati
re possible, bon my word of her '/ ego
' Mi 'as narthin but blesein's 4 / t '.• t-i'ill t
P. eti.teting as you'
"I'll %eve • faiet rinh
tard." , •
•
"l3h, .attie e)ime a:
Mrs.letiloner Q
ing to death I am.,
(Continued -ins
• Alt... 4 s .....:.`,..,
"I know how you repIi
Moore, sagely, "but take Say advic
and threw off no more loads th
way."
"Thomas, I wou!t. I premise 1
not write another."
"Geed, Mr)Dyke," exclaimed Moo
gladly. "It s delighted I ant to be
you soy that. Ah*sir, if rwe
where you are, I'd Si no such da
ger, can tell you."
"Shall I read it to you, Thomas'e
hitasked the. old gentleman, resolved
extract all possible enjoyment fjo
this hit of treason, since it was
have no successor.
"LeaVe it with me," suggest
Moore, endeavoring to postpone i
perusal .to. the last nwment possible
"191 read it to myself and study youe
method thoroughly- It will be
greeter help to me that way, yo
knew, and I am anxious to learn
Dyke gave a flattered cough or tw
and rose to go.
"You must not be discouraged,
Thomas," he said in a kindly patron-
izing tone, "your verses have merit
real merit. I'll stake my reputed°
upon it."
"It's kind of you to say that," said
Moore, gratefully, though in secre
vastly amused, "a successful man lik
you."
"Oh, 1 mean it, Thomas, I mean it
Why, someday I'd not be surprised
if you were rated as a poet almost
as high as Robin Dyke."
"You don't mean it, sip?"
"Almost, I said almost," repeated
the old gentleman, fearful. lest he
had raised hope too high in his fellow
author's breast.
"1 heard you," said More, dryly,
while Buster and Lord Castlereagh
shared their indignation at the fire-
place to , which they had ' retired.
"1 must get along now," announced
Mr. Dyke ,as though desirious
gently breaking the news of his ap-
proaching departure. "Oh, you will
augh your sides sore when you real
hat poem, Thomas."
''Will I?" asked Marc, doubtfully.
Mr. Dyke turned at the dour with a
ahnost envy you the fun, my lad.
Oh, it's monstrous witty."
And fairly shaking with tnerriment
it the mental contemplation of hi:
iwn humor, the old gentleman toddled
!own the stairs, quite at peace with
he world at large and eeen more
atisfied with himself.
"My best love to Bessie," Moor,,
alled after him, leaning over 11,,
anisters.
"Have you the riot?" came from
elow in the unmistakably Hibernian
cents of Mrs. Malone.
"No, I haven't, have you?" shout -
d the disgusted poet, and hastening
ark into the room, he shut the door.
"Rank halmest 'igh as 'im," ex •
!aimed Buster, indignantly, "Web
i likes 'is hirnpudence. Say, Mr.
loore. Ili thinks that hold cove ie
affy."
"They say genius is akin to mad
ess," replied Moore, stowing the
oem away in the' drawer of the
bite where he kept many produce
one of his own.
"Then 'ee's been achin' a long time,"
plied the boy, misunderstanding'
n. meaning of his master's remark.
Moore laughed gently and did no:
erect
CHAPTER TEN
Which the Landlady is Played a
Trick.
In the meantime Mrs. Malone, hav-
g pounded upstairs, halted in front
the door, not from politeness, but
regain her breath. Having paused,
e decided to knock, unconsciously
indful of Buster's scathing rebuke'.
"Who is there?" asked Buster.
"Me, for me money," responded the
ndlaely, determinedly. "Is there
y sin in asking for what is due
e
ed
"As much sin as there is use," mut
red Moore. "I cant go over tht•
of like this, Buster. 1 have it.
11 her I am taking a bath."
"Yessir," said thc boy, starting
wards the door as Moore sollght
elter with pail and pitcher of
ter behind an old screen standing
the corner of the room.
"My cold bath, Buster," whispered
mre.
"Yessir"
"And, Buster?"
gr
"So they revive Dilcy'e play? They a
do well, for .they have had nothing t
since to equal it except 'The School f
for Sandal,'"
The old ‚gentleman cleared his e
throat modestly. th
"Quite true, Thomas, and for thidi te
ver g reason I am preparing to wrifff h
a comedy anyelf." w
"Bravo, sir. Surely it is a shame
only one Irishman should wear re
•••
it Ok4eitel
i,. • • ek,Spi_eje
eeleteeeeteltelIeleliteeesee....k •
sweetheart,"
Mrs. Malone annedonao biter se,
Buster's ear, and, as he docli• at sue
cessfully, swung half aroutel wit%
the misspent energy of he effort
Buster sought safety in • the hail, bat
thrust his head in the doorwne
"Mr. Moore his tak...ie 'is co'd
bawh," he announced. loudly.
A splashing a water coming frent
behind the screen' corroborated tho
lad's statement.
"Taking his bath, is he?" said Me,
Malone. "It's the only thing he can
take witdout gettAng arresthel"
"Hit's 'is hown, Mrs. Malone."
"Are you sure of thot?"
"W'y 'h'are you so suspiei
Malone? 'Ave you missed one?"
"Niver you mind prying th •
secrets of me toilet. I'll have y,.1 t,...
understand—"
At this moment a ragged vet
soaking wet as the result of its in
mersion in the pail, sailed ever tie
top of the screen and landed .vith
gurgling squash, fair and s leare
the back of the landlady's nee:, dare.,
ening her collar and beet 'as s •
thoroughly that the starched Been im
mediately subsided into flopey iimp•
riess.
"Merciful powers!" ejaeulit'e l Mt •
Malon, jumping a foot at le -ie
"Phwat's thot?"
Buster fled downstairs fe,^Th'
impending masscr, white
hind the screen began git•li
tation of a man in th,. e „<•
ice-eold bath, bursting into rn, ie
song punctuated with ,'velar, ., •
discomfort and shivery crno, its o
his cndition.
"She is far from the lan
he shouted, slopping the water front
pitcher to pail and back -agin, kidd-
ing sotto rOCV "but not froIll thi•
landlady, worse lck— Oh Ill di,,
of the cold! I know I will. Oh
mother it's a cake of ice your be-
loved Thomas is fast becoming.
"Where her young hero slep,
--Only her young hero is freezing- in-
stead Of sleeping. Help! Help!
Whew-ww! Murder, murder, I'm
dying of the chilli"
Mrs, Malone inspeechless rage had
unwound the wet towel from around
her neck.
"You (Evil," she remaeked with the
calmness of despair. "You red-hand-
ed rapscallion. You've spited me hest
NStuonrentGet-Up-and-Go-to-Early
g_
Mass -Cap Oh, you haythen!
—you turk! Hanging is too good for
the likes of you."
Moore, bawling and shalt ng at the
top of his lungs, heard 'othing of'
the landlady's desperation.
"And lovers around her are sighing,
But coldly she turns—
Faith, the dear girl must have been
taging a cold bath heself, I'm think-
ing. Oh, murder! 1! For, if that
were so, how could the lovers be
around her? No, indeed, no dady de-
cent enough for Tom Moore to im-
mertalize in song would be guilty of
such immodesty, I am sure"
"But coldly she turns from their
gaze and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is eying.
A beautiful sentiment, Mr. Moore."
"Oh where is that sop?" and then
again bursting into song he warbled:
'Whe're' is that soap?
Where is that, soap?
Oh, where in Blazes is that so-o-ap ?
Buter, you devil, bring me the soap."
"Ill do nuthing of the kind," re!*
plied Mrs. Malone, ferociously.
"You won't?"
"Not I."
"In half a jiffy Ill come out there
and give you the leathering you de-
serve for insubordination."
"Oh!" cried the landlady. "And
Inc here, Bridget Malone::
7es
THE
PLANT: Or
MINK
By J. E. Micielleton4r..
In one of the engineeing'
-Offi
the Hydro-Eleetrie Comml
it*
headquarters stands a curious WOOi 64,
"eontraption,"about three feet quint0i,
Ankt
d 17 inches - h. It is • *004:
built to scale, „r p rt of the Queet0
PowerHouse,Iw wider cleagrir.
(ion. , . •t;
..-
While the plans are particulerliff„,
eareful and elaborate, in elevation:to4.,i,
ection, and in detail, the engineertir•:0
realized that they would be read more
accurately and with less chance of,
error if they could be checked °oldie.''."&c,
tinily ...agaist a model. That lirthe ,',et.i
00
r10111 III Ship -building, and the size ....4
,..i 1 f.,N power -house ",ob” both 'kir
concept ton and in. working -out is not
less inimeing than the construction,
of a Dreadnought.
„ •,
Therefore a pattern-makenwas eau-
1•(I 111 and set to wrk. The .medel . -.
can lie taken apart, so that every sec-
tem of the work can be carefully exam-
med. The plans have a more definite -•
meanng, by reason of the model, in •
the eyes of engineers, foremen and'
<Twezing's, and the danger of running
into expensive errors III f 0ml-ruction
has been reduced to nil.
An examination of the model 7e-
vials a few facts that hong the exam. • ' '9
iner into a chronic state of astonish-
ment. For exampl, the distance from
the lowest part of the lowaitormiate
sle:away up to ihe main floor ov the
power -house on which the generators ' •
v ill sit is sixty-eight feet—twice the
height of an ordinary three-storey
ctty dwelling. Within that consider-
able basement, the great Concrete
supply -pipes coming from the canal
at the top of the cliff will discharge „ .,"
their flood into nine enormous snail-
shells. In the middle of each snail
shell or 'scroll case" will sit a turbine
of immense size, the largest ever built.
As the green water swirls about and
int() this "wheel" it will create a
force of 50,000 horse -power, driving
the great generators and creating a
similar force in terms of electricity.
That is to say..each, turlainsof this, - .,•`,.•
Queenston plant will have four times •
tne ethylne), of the "wheels" in the
existing plants at Niagara, due hi
part to the fact that the water has a
drop of over 300 feet, while at the
Falls, the "effective had" is about
L,() fee.
When the plant is fully completed,
111: Of these t urbines will be humming
end the generators will he producing
riot less than 150,000 horse -p, .ver 'of
energy at a pressure of 12,500 volts.
The model shows the arrangement of
the draft -pipes which brng' cold air
to the turbifICS aad pre \ cut them from.
heating. It shows the Penstock entry
and the position of the turbuie with
relation to 1 he generator ebove. It
shows the dscharge-pipeeewhieh carry.
the wa•ter back into the river after it
as been need. Standing in one of
these is a little "Noah" out of a toy
Ark. It represents the height of an
ueerage man, and is the most insigni-
ficant of ubjects 8
The Chippawa-Queenstea project
Is considered generally in terms of the
eryat Canal. That is natural. A,
tiel,• in the solid rock and the sound
emit' eight miles long is bound to be
noticed. But the Power -house, which
is the reason for the cartel's existence
iind ite effective climax is likely to
impress itself upon the imagination of,
the public as one of the wonders 01.
the world.
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ACDON
PRINCE of WALES
CH EWI N
TOBACCO
o-ectec°
Cnada's standata since 1858
Mf'. 'T.M4