The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

THE LAPSE OF ENOCH WENTWORTH By ISABEL Q0RI3ON CURTIS, Author of •♦ The Woman from Wolvertons VJ:- 7V:=^ CHAI'TKR VI.- (Cont'd.) Enoch laid the manuscript aside. The Englishman hearty in his con KHitulaHons and cnthiusiaslic, was urging the earliest possililo produc- tion. He offered unlimited money and insisted that the best company New York c&ul 1 produce should be engaged. The sjjell of the story \\»> still upon Dorcas. She passed out, shaking hands hastily with Oswald. "Dorry," cried her brother. She did not answer. "The play stirred her inteivsely," said Oswald. He had noticed a trace of tears on her cheeks. "Was this t-he first time she heard it reaii?" "Yes, I had never even told her o.' it. She has been away while â€" it was written." "Is your sister an actress?' "Noâ€" she wants tvi go upon the fctage." "Let her have her way," advised the Englishman. "Her every action shows that she possesses dramatic talent." "It isn't my idea of her future." "Stage life is exacWy what one ch(x>se3 to make of it. Curiously en- ougli. I have a conviction she could play Cordelia." Wentworth brushed hi.s hand acro.ss his foreheiul and stared at the scat- tered sheets of manuscript on the table. "Get Merry here as soon as possible. i want a consultation with both of you," suggested Oswald while he <iiew' on hi", gloves. "It is now only a mat- ter of time and a theatre. If I may ativise now, don't choose anyone on t^is side for Mrs. Ksterbrook. I know a woman who can play that part to perfection. Again let me congratul- ate you. It's a great play, one of the greatest I've heard in yearn. It's bound K) .succeed." Wentworth bowed, but a sudden flush blazed into his face. He was not luirdened enough yet to accept con- gratulations for the brain product of another man. "Good-bye," sakl the Englishman holding out) his hand cordially. "Good-by," murmured Wentworth. He moved to the window A carriage stood waiting in front of the house. He watched Oswald step into it and ilrivc away. Suddenly he recollected that Dorcas had not spoken a single wori of praise or congratulation on the play. She was always enthusiastic and happy over every triumph that came to him. She must have thought) well of the play. She had a full appreciation of Merry's talents and she had seemed to like him while they were together during the summer. He paused to pull himself together mentally, t^en he called her. She came slowly into the room, which bed grown dark. "Dorry,' said Wentworth slowly, "do you know you have not said yet that you like my play?" "Your play?" "Why, Dorry?" The girl spoke in an unsteady voice. "I don't believe, Eni)ch, that- Andrew Merry toM you of along talk we had at Juniper Point. You remember you left me alone with him when you were called to Bcston. Wc sat on the rocks one :iftcrnoon and he told mo his plot for this play â€" he hud been thinking it out for years and years. Why," the girl shook her head impatiently, "why Enoch, he had labored on it so long that some of the speeches were writ- ten, in his mind. Sometimes he put the story into the very words you read!" During a few minutes Enoch Went- worth fought the battle of his life. It was the struggle beljwcen g-ood and evil, which every human being har- bors to a greater or lesser rlcgrce, in one soul, in one body. Wentworth sighed. The battle hail passe<l and evil had won. It was prepared to carry him through the most dungcrou;j moment. Wi^h it came fresh valor, and not only the power to sin further, but a mysterious weakening of the moral tissues which made it pos.?ible for him to sin coolly and remorseless- ly. He turned on the light and wit'h cool composure faced his sister. He met her gray eyes without a quiver. They asked a question which could not be evaded. "I hate to tell you, Dorcas," there was a tone of reluctance in Wcnt- worth's voice, "but Merry is down again, <lown in the gutter." The girl jumpetl to her feet. "I don't believe it!" she cried. "Besides, if he were, what has that to do with his play?" Enoch (lid not answer. Instead he asked a question. "Dorcas, do you care for â€" do you love â€" Andrew Mer- ry?" A flush blazed into the prirl's face. In spite of the telltale color her bro- ther believol her. "Yes, I care for Andrew Merry â€" very much. I do not) love him." Enoch gazed at her wistfully. He knew, as she did not, how easy it is to cross the bridKe from mere friend- ship to love. "Why <iid you ask me that?" "I wanted to find out how much it would hurt, if I t>old you the truth. Merry is not worth your love, he is not even worth your friendship." "It is not true!" There was iulSg- nant piotest in the woman's voice. "I know better, s«i do you.. Only Ohis does not explain aliout his play, for it is his play." "You rememi)cr he left .Juniper Point suddenly?" "Yes." She raised her head with an eager gesture. "He went away to write this play." She pointed t).) the manuscript which lay on the table. "Yes," said Enoch slowly. "He be- gan bravely enough. Then â€" he wont under, as he had done so many times in his life." "What was it?" cried the girl. Drink or gambling?" Enoch lay b.ick in his chair. Ho began to marvel at how easily he could lie, because a lie had never come readily to him before. "Drink and gambling â€" and every- (•hing." Hei brother shruggtil his shoulders as if in disgust. "Of course he stopped writing. A man could not write in his condition. He sent for me. I stayed by him night and day and â€" wrote. You see â€" I wrote it." he lifted a writt-sn sheet from the loo"e pile of manuscript. "Perhaps â€" but it is not your play."' Durcas shook her head with obstinate incredulity. •"I told him so. I suggested we rnako it a collaborated play." "It is not even a collaborated play, Enoch. Why, every situation, the plot, even the very wor.ls, are his." "He wants me to father it." "He must have changed since ho said g(iud-by to me. Ho was on fire then with hope and ambition." "He has changed," acceded Enoch gravely. It) was a relief to make one truthful statement. "Is he to play 'John Esterbrook' when it is produced?" "No other actor can. Merry has the entire conception of it now." "Where is he?" "1 don't' know." "I thought you promised Mr. Oswald to have him here and get things start- ed for an early production?" "I di'l. I am hoping to find Merry at one of his haunts. He must be found and put on his feet. There's a t?reniondous lot at stake. Dorry," he turned to her appealingly, "won't you help me?" "111 help you," Dorcas spoke slowly, "if you can assure me of one thing." "What?" "That there is no wrong to be don©.'' "There is no wiong to be done. Merry will have the opportunity of his life, if he can only be made to see ib that way." "And there is no wrong: to be right- ed." "Then he must be found. When he is found," the girl spoke decisively, "he must appear before tjhe world as the author of his play." "He won't do it," answered Went- worth. He rose, put on his hat>, anil went out. Dorcas heard the front door slam behind him, then she laid her face on the arm of the sofa and burst into tears. it. My.ny a man had gone down and out f(.r a crime less knavish than this. But he knew Andrew Merry well, and h'j trusted to one trait which was predominant in the man â€" his (jueer exaggerat'jd idta of honor. Day by day his conscience quieted down, self-confiiience took the place of wavering, and the fear of exposure seemed to recede. At last he could look the situation in the face without flinching. The task of putting on a theat-icnl product', jn began to ab.-;orb him completely. He had always long- ed for such a chance; he hvi'i been st-oring away ideas he couM now uti- lize, besides he knew New York thor- oughly, and he had observed fur years the system of producing a play. Os- wald looked on with appreciation as Enoch put hi? plans in to shape. He knew how uncjnmon wa? the combina- tion of such talents in the same man â€" the ability to write a virile play, then to stagi^ it with practical skill and artistic feeling anil originality A remarkably strong company was en- gaged. Oswald insisted on filling even the .smallest parts with people far above the level of subordinate actors. The salary list grew to stupendous figures. One morning Wentworth re- monstrated against paying one hun- dred dollars a week to an actor who was to play the janitor. "Breen is a far bigger man than you need," he objected. "He has played leads to many of the biggest stars. | We need a mere bit of character work in this â€" he isn't on the stage half an hour. I can get a first-rate man for , half that price." "Breen can make the janitor so true '. to life that the audience will regret seeing him for only half an hour," Os- wald rejoined. "That's the test of quality. When I pay a hundred dol- ' lars I want a hundred-ilollar man." i (To be cont)inued.) You will like its Fine Granulation Buy your sugar in these neat 2 or 5 -lb. cartons, which you can place directly on your pantry shelves. Just cut off the corner and pour out the sugay as you need it. Laisti€ Sugar comes aho in 10 and 20-lb bags for house- wives who like to buy in largerquantities ''The All-Purpose Sugar" 2 and 5-lb Cartons 10 and 20-lb Bags? -0- ^^^^ ## PMViaWMX^B tf I.s but anotlicr woril for "insured" wlion it refers 1o jams and prescrvt-s. Moldinfj and fornientation ure impossible when the jars are securely sealed with PURE REFINED PAHAFKINE Parowax keeps the container iiir-lifjlit. When you have the jars securely parowaxi'd your jjreserves will be the sauio w hen you open them at they were the day you i)iil them up. Bent of nil, Purowax is iikwI coiivi'iiirnl to use. Pour iijfllcd J'uronnx over the top.i of jelly tniiililcra and tlioy iiru made air-tight, duot auil giriii proof. I'On 'HIE IJIUNDRYâ€" Sec dimlions on Purowax lalu'ls for its Uia in valuable- siTvin- in washing. At grocery, deparliiieat anil Kciieral sliins everywhere. THE IMPERIAL OIL COMPANY Limited IIUANCIIJJH IN ALL <TriKH CHAPTER VII. Suddenly, as if the earth had swal- lo^ved him. Merry disappeare<l. A week passed. Grant Oswald, in a fever ol enthusiasm, had begun prepa- ' ratJions for a Broadway production. , He turne i a vast amount of responsi- bility over to Wentworth, who shoul- dered it thankfully. It kept at arm's length the possibilit'y of dwelling much with his own thoughts: they were not cheerful company, and he I was racked by constant anxiety about Merry. There was not a single mo- ' ment to spare when he could go inbo the highways and byways of a great ciiy to search, as he had searched be- fore when the man was his friend. ' IIo could not delegate the task to an- other. He had prepared a tale for , the public of Merry's whereabouts. i Oswald believed the actor \va3 stu)ly- I ing his part and stoo<l ready to appear ! at u moment's notice. Enoch went ahead with the tremendous load of de- tr.jil that fell upon him toiling day and night, while his mind alternated be- , twpcn terror and hope. Kvery day the man was acquiring traits new to his nature. When a strange accident hr,l tossed before him the possibility of satisfying his ' dearest ambition, conscience enlreot- 1 ed loudly against the theft of another •man's life-work. Kvery noble instinct in Knoch made its appeal; his honesty, , his generosity, an innate demand for fair play, the love of his sister and , friend, all cried nlouii to him during j the lonely honrs of the i\ight There had been moments when ho would have gladly retraced his stops, but the , (I'ic had been cast. He was like a i racer who, by some treacherous ruse, hnil pui-'hod aside an opponent and was I dose to the goal. The intoxication ' of nppliuisc was bet^inning to sound ; in his ear.' and the future held untold I possibilities. It was too late to : turn bnck; it would mean the down- fall of great ambitions and bitter shame- it might even mean crjme. It ' Hcomcd easier to take the chances. Occnsioi'.ally .Andrew'.^ dogged face fi'isiied back to his memory when he cri^^l, "I will see what the law can do t',) protect a man from theft." Knoch felt hiii face blanch at the thought of MUNITION MAKERS SUFFER Handling of Explosives Gives Rise to Diseases. The high pressure under which the production of munitions has had to be performed in Great Britain has brought with it destructive maladies. These are particularly noticeable in connection with the manufacture of high explosives. Thus in handling trinitrotoluol after a prolonged period one becomes drowsy, suffers from frontal headache, loss of appetite ^nd may even become afflicted with a dis- tinctive eczema. Uuless tiie operative takes a rest in time jaundice may supervene, with decided danger of life. In a few instances death has been directly traced to the handling of the explosive. Tetryl throws off a slight dust, which, unless timely precautions are taken, leads to troublesome eczema. Another medium inimical to health is the varnish with which the wings and bodies of aeroplanes are treated. Tetra-chlorethane enters largely into the preparation of this varnish, and this throws off a noxious vapor which produces drowsiness and loss of ap- petite, and if work is persisted in ultimately jaundice, liver complica- tions and coma. In this case an al- ternative varnish has been discovered which is free from the evil consti- tuents ; but it has not come into general use for the simple reason that there are insufficient supplies of the necessary ingredients to meet de- mands. -<- DUKE'S GARDENERS. Three Employed on the Eaton Estate Exempted. Three married men employed on the i I>uke of Westminister's Eaton gar- I dens have been exempted condition- ; ally at Chester. It was stated that I the duke wanted every available man I liberated from the gardens and only i the necessary labor retained. Of the j original staff of 60, 30 had left for ; service. Their places were kept open I and wages paid, less the army pay, ; making a yearly liability to the duke of £4,340. The head gardener said he had unsuccessfully tried to secure other labor. Eaton gardens were opened to the public for six months each year, and during the . past 20 years admissions for viewing j tho gardens and hall had resulted in , £4«,00 for charities. Tho duko had lent the hall as a military hospital, and tho demand for vegetables was heavier than ever. Lady Arthur Grosvenor, hospital nurses, and others helped in lighter work. 'They had a valuable collection of bulbs, which were a national asset. Li Agreed to â€" " I am doing my best to get ahead," asserted Chollie. " Well, you certainly need one," assented Dollie. V V . ^ ..V ,Xii5* 'â- rr&A.--'-- i ly â- ? G A Cement Walk to the Barn. On the majority of farms no provi- sion Is made for a dry walk from house to barn, although the distance, whether it be long or short, must be traversed many times a day. On sandy soil it is possible to make and Keep a fairly satisfactory earth walk, Ijut in the clay districts the walk cut- up every spring and fall and is slop- P.V after every rain. No one parti- cularly desires to tramp t)hrough mud when going to work or coming to meals and yet thousands of families living on the farm must do that very thing. Blocks of wood or old boards are sometimes thrown down to walk on but at best they are only a tem- porary arrangement and soon break up or get displaced. A permanent concrete walk is within reach of most farmers. The gravel can be hauled in the winter when the teams are not busy and experts are not required to lay the walk. Any handy man could mix the gravel and put it down in a short time. On a farm recently visited there was a three-foot concrete walk from house to barn and in the estimation of the writer it added many dollars to the value of the farm. One could gro to the milk-house or barn in com- fort, even in the wettest season. The walk also aided in keeping dirt from being carried into the house on the men's boots. The walk was about five inches thick. The bottom four inches was made of one part cement to eight parts good gravel and the top inch wa« one part cement to three parts sand. It was blocked off in three-foot squares, except where the wagons crossed and there it was in six inch squares. There is always a danger of frost heaving a concrete walk, but this can be largely overcome by good drainage. In building a walk, a trench is dug about four inches wiilcr than Is desired, and four inches deep. Two by four scantlings are then stak- ed in place and raised one inch from the bottom, to hold the concrete until it seta, then they should be removed. The cement and gravel should bo thoroughly mixed before being placed in the trench. An iron or wooden block may be usad to pack the con- crete. A thin iron may be put across the walk every three feet to divide it into blocks. This can bo removed when the concrete has set. Frequent- ly heavy iron is used to cut the blocks after they have partially set. Either mcthoi is practicable. The expense of a walk for the average farm is not great When the distance ifl one hundred yards, about eleven cubic yards of gravel, three cubic yards of sand and fifteen and one-half barrels of cement would be sufficient to put in a permanent walk. If the farm toani^ are used for hauling the gravel and sand, $1.50 per yard should be a fair price for that material laid down at the farm. The price of cement var- ies, but at $1.C0 per barrel the total cost for cement, gravel and sand would not exceed $45. It would only cost a few dollars to mix the concrete and lay the walk. The cost would be con- siderably reduced if no account was taken of teaming. Many buildings are less than lOO yards apart, while others are a greater distance. The cost would be lessened or increased acco^Ungly. Even if it does cost fifty or sixty dollars to put down a per- manent walk that will keep the feet dry and clean when going to and from the bam, those who have so invested thedr cash claim it was money well spent. A permanent walk may be u trifling thing, but it greatly improves the appearance of the farm home. â€" • Farmer's Advocate. 5 feet wide and double length foi home stalls is 7 feet from edge ol manger to end of stall. Manger for cow and horse stall should be 2 feet G inches to 3 feet wide. Box stalls for hospital or maternity are best il 8 feet by 10 feet or 12 feet by 12 feet, Feed alleys should be at least three feet wide, wider if possible. Silos. â€" Build to feed 30 pounds a day to each head. Make the height two and one-half to three times tha diameter. Build small diameter and high rather than wide and low. Pro- vide feed for at least 180 days. A silo 12 X 30 feet will hold 67 tons and feed 15 to 30 cows 180 dayj. A silo 14 X 30 feet will hold 114 tons and feed 35 to 40 cows 180 days. A silo 14 X 42 feet will hold 148 tons and feed 45 to 50 cows 180 days A silo 10 X 48 feet will hold 236 tons and feed 60 to 70 cows 180 days. Better Bodied Butter The people who buy the higher grades of butter are people who are familiar with the quality of foo<i. They appreciate buttier that will resist warm temperature and will hold its shape because it has a good body. The wants of the consumer should be close- ly studied by the producer, and when they desire butter of a particular tex- ture, color or salt, the producer should immediately fall in with the sugges- tion as though he were an individual trying to increase his tratle by cater- ing to their demands. The sooner that the small cream- eries which are receiving good raw material awaken to this fact the bet- ter it will be for them. If we are go- ing to accept this e.xcessive overrun as one of the good qualities in butter- making, and let it be recognized next to flavor, we should then change the system of scoring, and instead of hav- ing the texture or body follow flavor, we should have overrun follow flavor. then to te.xture, color and package. This, to me, would be ridiculous, for the simple reason that the consumer doea not want any more water and salt in the butter than is necessary and he wants a go(xl body. He is the final judge and must be pleased.â€" Ex- tract from address by P. H. KiclTer. Salting Hay. As a rule when hay has been well saved there is not much advantage in salting hay. but if for any reason it is a little damp or has been much dam- aged by rain before being stacked or mowed away it is usually an advant- age to add salt to it. The salt has three functions: it checks heating, prevents the growth of molds and fungi, and makes bad hay more palat- able. A certain amount of heating in the hay after it is mowe<l away is dedr- able as it is considered to make the hay more relished by the stock, but if it is Improperly cured â€" the heating will be excessive and may result, in- deetl, in spontaneous combustion. .Ks a rule from 10 to 20 pounds of salt is used to every ton of hay. It the hay is a little damp when storetl away or if it has been injured by rain salting is tvell worth considering. The pros- pects are that a lot of the hay-making will be done this year in anything but suitable weather. Tho Cheery Optimists 'YY"''*' "" ''lelit. mil- I expect the Navy will be up next wook."â€" lyondoa Onlnion. When Building Barns. Floors and Gutters. â€" Place layer of concrete 4 to 5 inches thick on well- drained cinders or gravel, and have the sub-base inches thick. All stall floors should have n slope of one-quarter inch to the foot. Feed- ing floors 1 inch to 50 feeK Gutters should be 8 inches deep next to cow, 4 inches deep on the al- ley sid« and IC inches to 18 inches wide. Finish all floors with a wood- en trowel so that concrete will bo left rough and there will be little danger of animals slipping on it. Cow Stalls. â€" Have dairy cow stalls 3 feel 6 inches wide, 4 feet 8 inches in length from edge of manger to gutter. Siuarle horse stalls should be Grain for Hogs on Pasture The pig is a pork-producing ma- chine, and like other machinery, ia moot profitable when run at full capa- city. A pig's stomach is so small that it will not digest enough alfalfa alone to make a profitable growth. Pigs cannot produce the liest gain when on pasture alone or when on pasture supplemented by only a small amount of grain. Tests show clearly that two and one-half to three poundt of grain daily per 100 pounds ot live weight of the pigs produced not only the greatest gain but the greatest pro- fit. The higher the price of grain, the smaller the profit in favor of th heavier ration. Matrimonial Ideas " Why do you object to my marry- ing your daughter ?" i "Because you can't support h»r in the style to which she has been ac- customed all her lifi*." j " How do you know I can't ? 1 can â-  start her on bi-ead and milk, ?aTT'.i< us- 1 you did." . < ; V •