OAPI MAY OOUKTY THOSS. SEA ISLE CITY, If. 3

TTIE UGflT THE ELEARINI? ALE OF THE NORTH COUNTRY .THE TIME OF SILAS WRIGHT INfi BACHELLER.

I RUNS AWAY AND MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF SILAS WRIGHT, JR.

a Bajrnr*. an orphan, km* to U<re with his varir, r Bayous, tad hi* Aunt !>*! on a fann on Battieroad. in n •d callod Uckityaplit, *boo‘ the year 1828. He meets Sally abort Wa own age. bat socially of a dan above the K and Is fascinated by her pretty face and fine dothe*. Barton ► weeta Rodny Kate, known In the Deijrtiborhood as th- “Silent n " Amot Orimahaw, a young eon of the richest man In the tovrot 1* a vislto: at the Bayne* home and Borin* Kate tells the boy*' —t. predldlu* a brt*ht fulo-v- for Barton and death on the gallows

KAPTER II—Continued. him up on it—It won't be proposed. I *t him in silence. My e roe. brt 1 hadn't conragf sue wish the owner of a r watch. When the do* began to ape I threw my arms about him fcriad. Aunt Dad happened to ir. She came and saw Amos I at the rope and me trying to

* do*.

e right down offn that mo

f had followed, polling the rope r him. Aunt Deel was pale '

* right home—dght home," said

Te can use shanks' horses—ayes! y*re good enough for you." Aunt I insisted, and so the boy went are yopr pennies?” Aunt

to ms.

[ fdt In my pockets but couldn't 1 ye have 'em last?" my

"Come an' show me.'

fa want to the

the pennies, hot not one of them

Amns had them in bis hand.

*Tm awful frald for him—ayes 1

old Aunt Ded. *Tm frald Kate was right about him— "What did she sayT 1 asked.

"That he was goln' to be hung— s! Ton can’t play with him no ». Boys that take what don't eg to 'em—which I hope he didn't yes I hope it awful—are apt to hung by their necks until they

dead—Jest as he was goln' to ol’ Shop—ayes!—they are!" Peabod} seemed to feel very he learned how Amos had

after that, one aftemon, Dael came down in the field t we were dragging. While she

When the Dog Bagan to Struggle, 1 Threw My Arms About Him and

CCsd.

out a comb of honey, and with no delay whatever it went to my mouth. Suddenly it Reined to me that I had been Kit by lightning. It was the *tli»* of o bee. I fait myself going and made a wild grab and caught the edge of the pan and down we came to the floor—the pan and I— with a great crash. I discovered that I was In desperate pain and trouble and I got to my feet and ran. I didn't know where I was going. It seemed to me that any other place would be better Chan that. My feet took me toward the barn and 1 crawled under It and hid there. My Up began to feel batter, by and by. but big and queer, stuck out so that I could see It heard my unde coming with the hones. I cooduded that I would, stay where I was. but the dog came and sniffed and barked at the bole Uiwiugh which I had era vie 1 aaying. “Here he U!" My position was untenable. I came out. Shep began trying to dean ay dothes with his tongue. Cade Peabody stood near with the horses. He looked at me. He stuck h‘s Anger into the honey on my coat and smelt It “Well, by—" be stopped and came doaw and asked. "What's happened r “Bee stung me. “Where did ye And so much honey that ye could go swinunla' In It?" be

asked.

I heard the door of the bouse open suddenly and the voice of Aunt Ded. “Peabody; Peabody, come here quick." she culled. Unde Peabody run to the boose, but I stayed out with the dog. Through the open door I heard Aunt Deel saying: “I can't Man' It any longer and I wont--not another dry— ayes, * can't stan* It That boy Is a reg'lffr peat.” They came out on the veranda. Uncle Peabody said nothing, but I could so-- that he couldn't stand It either. My brain was working fast. “Come here, air," Uode Peabody

called.

I knew it was serious, for he bad never called me “sir" before. I went slowly to the steps. “My Lord!" Aunt Deal exclaimed. “Look at that Up and the honey all over him—syem! I tell ye—I can't stan' U." “Say. boy. U there anything on this place that ye ain't Upped over?" Unde Peabody asked In s sorrowful tone. "Wouldn't ye like to lip the house-

over?"

I was near breaking down In this answer: “I went Into the but'ry and that pan Jumped on to me." “Didn't you taste the honey?" “So,” I drew In my breath and J shook my head. “Liar, too!" Mid Annt Ded. “I cant stan' It an' I won't" Unde Peabody was sorely tried, but he was keeping down his anger. His voice trembled as he Mid: "Boy. I gursa- you'll have to—" Unds Peabody -topped. He had driven to the ln« ditch, but he not stepped over It. However, I knew what hr bad started to say and sat down on the steps In great dejection. Shop follow i-d, working at my cost with bis tongue. 1 think the sight of me must have touched the heart of Aunt IH-yl. "Peabody Ruynes, we mustn't bo cruel," said she In a softer tour, and «n< u she brought a rug and began to assist Shep in the pioccss of cleaning my coat, liood !»nd! Ht‘s got to stay here—aye*!—he ain't got no other place to go to-" “But If you can’t *ttn' It." Mid Unde Perbody. "I've got to *tan' it—ayes I—I can't stan' It, but I've got to—aye* I So have you." A'lnt Deel put me to bed although It vas only Ovr o'clock A« 1 lay resolution ctiins to me. It was born of my b-uglMf for the companionship of my kind und of my rosaoUMnL I

Ind tlx

ae way they be I knew U *u

tan mUss away, but of course everybody knew where the Dunkelbergs Bvod and any one would show me. I would run and gut there before dark apd tell them that I wanted to live with them and every day I would plsy with Sally Dunkdberg. Unde Peabody was not half as nice to play with as she wax. I beard Uncle Peabody drive sway. I watched him through the open window. I could haar Aunt Deel washing the dishes In the kitchen. I got out of bed very slyly and put on my Sunday dothes- I went to the open window:. The sun had Just gone over the top of the woods. I would have to hurry to get to the Dunkelbergs' before dark. I crept out on Hie tog of the shed and descended the 1*1der that leaned against It. I stood a moment Ilrtenlng. The door-yard was covered with shadows and very stUL The dog most b*ye gone with Unde Peabody. I ran through to the road and down It as fast as my bore feet could carry me. In that direction the most a mile away, was out of breath, and the light was crewing dim before I got to It I went on. It seemed to me that I bad gone nearly far enough to reach my destination whon I heard a buggy coming behind me. •‘Hello!" a voice called. I turned and looked up at Dug Draper. in a single buggy, dressed In his Sunday suit. "Is It much further to where the Dunkribergs Uvp?" I asked. 'The Dunkelbergs? Who be they?” It seemed to me very strange that be didn’t know the Dunkelberga "Where Solly Dunkelbecg Uvea." That was s clincher. He laughed and swore and said: “Git In here. boy. I’ll take ya there." I got Into the buggy, and he struck his horse with the whip and went galloping away In the dusk. By and by we passed Rovin’ Kate I could Just discern her ragged form by the roadside and called to her. He struck hi* horse and gave me a rude ■hake end bade me shut up. It w*» dark and I felt very cold and began io wish myself home in bed. "Ain’t we most to the Dunkelberge'r I asked. "No—not yet." he answered. I hi rst Into tear* and be shook me roughly and shoved me down on the boggy floor and said: “Too lay there and keep still; do yon hear?" "Te».“ I sobbed. I lay shaking with fear and fighting my sorrow and keeping as still as I conld with It. until, wearied by the strain. I fell asleep. What befell me :hat night while I dreamed of playing with the sweetfaced girl I have wondered often. Some time In the night Dug Draper had reached the village of Canton and got rid of me. He had probably put me out at the water trough. Kind hand* had picked me up and carried me to a little veranda that fronted the door of a law office. There I slept peacefully until daylight, when I felt a hand on my face and awoke suddenly. I remember that I felt coid. A kindly faced mar. was leaning over me. "Hello, boy!" said he “Where did yon come from?" I was frightened and confused, but his gentle voice reassured me. “Uncle Peabody!" I called, as I arose and looked a boot me and began to cfy. The man lifted me In his arms and held me close to his breast vnd tried to comfort me. I renwml>er seeing the Silent Woman pass while I was In his arns. “Tell me what’s your name," he urged. “Barton Baynes." I said os boon a* I could speak. “Where do you live?" "In LlcUtyspllt." "How did yirti get here?" “Du* Draper bruugb* me. Do you know where Sally Dunkelbcrg live*?” “1* she the daughter of Horace Dunkelbcrg f “Mr. linii lira. Horace Dunkelbcrg " I amended. "Oh. yes, I know her. Sally I* a friend of mine. Well get eomc breakfast and then well go and find her." He carried me through the open door of hi* office and set me down at hi* desk. The cold air of (be night had chilled me and I was shiv-

ering.

“You alt there and PU hare a Are going In n minute and get yoa warmed up.” He wrapped me In hi* coot and went Into the bark room and built a Are in a email stove and brought me In ami act me down betide It He mail, some porridge In u kettle while I mi bolding my little bund* over the stove to warm them, snd a sense ol com fort grew In me. He dipped some porridge into bowl* and put them on a small table. My eyas had watched him with growing Interest and 1 got to the table ubunt as soon a* the porridge and mount-"I s chair and seized u spoon. "One momrai. Bort." said m> j host. "By Jingo! We've forgotten m n wash and you're face look* like the I dry bed of a river. Colne here a wlu-

ulo."

He led me out of the beck door ! where there were u wash-stand and a pall and tin basin and a dUfa of coll aoap. He (lipped the pall In a ruin barrel ami Idled (be batin. und I washed myaelf and wnlltd not upon I my host, but made fur the (able und began to out. being very hungry, ofter hastily drying my face un a towel, j In a minute he came and oat do*, n j to hi* cere porridge and bread am!

When hi- had finished eating he set : aside the d:.<bM and I asked: | "Now could I go and see Sally Dunfcdberg?" “What In the world do you want of Bally Dunkdberg?" be asked. "Oh, Just to play with her," I said as 1 showed him how I could alt no my hands and raise myself from the chair bottom. “Haven't you any one to play with at home?" "Only my Uncle Peabody." “Don't you like to play with him?" ! “Oh. some, but he cant stand me nny longer. He's all tired out. and my Aunt Deel. too. I’ve tipped over every single thing on that place. 1 tipped over the honey yesterday— spilt It all over everything and rooend my dothes. Pm a reg'ler pest 3o I want to play with Sally Dunk-el-berg. I want to play with her a little while—Just a wee little while." "Forward, march!" said he snd away we started for the home of the Dunkelbergs. The village Interested me Immensely. I had seen it only twice before. People were moving about in the streets. One thing I did not toll to notice. Every man we met touched his hat as he greeted my friend. It was a square, frame house—that of the Dunkelbergs—large for that village, and had a big dooryard with trees In It. As we came near the gate I saw Solly Dunkelbcrg playing with other children among the trees. Suddenly I was afraid and began to hang

SUAS V* law cm t

mm

---

Lean log

back. I looked down at my bare feet and my dothes. both of which were dirty. Sally and her friends had etopped thtir piny and were standing in a group looking at us. I heard Sally v.hisper: “Ifs that Baynes boy. Don't he look dlrtyr I stopped and witndrew mj hand from that of my guide. “Corny on. Bart." hi- said. I shock my head and stood looking over at that little, hostile tribe near

me.

“Go and play with them while I step Into the house." he urged. Again 1 shook my head. “Well. then, yon wnlt here n moment." said my new-found fries'*. He left me and 1 sat down upon the ground, thoughtful und ulent. In a niouiert my friend came out with Mr*. Dunkclberg. r.hc and asked me to lell how I happened to he there. "I Just thought I would come." I said a* I twisted a button ou my coat, und would say no more to her. “Mr. Wright, you're going to take him home, arc you?" Mr*. Dunkclberg asked. “Yea. PH start off with him In an hour or so." said ray friend. “1 am Interested In this hoy and I want t« so* his nnn* and uncle." “Well, Sally, you go down to the office and stay with Bart until they go." "You'd like thni, wouldn't you?" the nian naked of me. “I don't know." I sold. “That means yes," Mid the man. Sally eud another little girl cunf with u* and passing a store I held hack to look at many beautiful things In a big window. “Is there anything you'd like there, Bart?" the man asked. “I wish! I had a pa!.* o' then) shiny shoes with buttons on.” I answered In s low. conOiIeutlal tone, afrall to express, openly, n wish so extravagant. "Come right In." he said, and I remember that when we entered the store 1 could bear my heart beating. He bought a pair of shoes for mo and I would have them on at once, and made It uemumry for him ta buy a pair of socks also. After the shoes were buttoned on my feet I saw Utile of Bally Dunkelbcrg or the other im>|ile of the village, my eyes being on my feet must of the lime. The man took us Into hi* office and told us to sit down until he could Write a letter.

Facts About the Year 1919 of the Christian Era W ASHINGTON.—The year 181ft of the Christian era. which began Wednesday. January 1. and end* on Wednesday, December 81. not being a "leap year," will contain SGO days and a small fraction. It very nearly corrvspotula with the year 8032 of the Julian period, which began January 14.1019. It may , be explained that 7.890 Julian yearn ^ form the period of agreement of the solar and lunar cycle* with the cycles of Indication. The year 5680 of the Jewish era will begin at sunset on September 24, 1816. It Is computed from the assumed date of the creation of the work) according to Hebrew chronology —namely. Oct. 7, In the year ST61. B. C. The year 2672 since the found*don of Rome, according to Varro. began on January 1. 191ft. Julian calendar. The year 25TB of the Japanese ere. being the eighth year of the period of Talsho. began January L 1019, Gregorian calendar. The year 1B1B of the Christian era comprises the tatter part of the ode hundred and forty-third and the beginning of the one hundred and forty-fourth year of the Independence of the United States. In the year 1819 there will be three eclipses, two of the sun and one of the moon: A total eclipse of the sun, Mny 28-29. Invisible at Washington. A partial eclipse of the moon. November 7. visible at Washington; the beginning visible generally in North America except the extreme western part. An annual eclipse of the sun. November*22, visible at Washington ns a partial eclipse.

Silver and Gold Service Chevrons Make Trouble

P ROTESTS reaching members of congress against the war department's service chevrons may lead to legislation prohibiting their use. Representative McKenzie of Illinois. Republican member of the house committee on military affairs, considers taking the lead In the matter. The recent action of the war department tn providing for the wearing it silver chevrons by those who sei red lu this country bar brought to a head the Issue which has been smoldering ever since gold chevrons were designated for overseas service. “I am greatly concerned over the iltuatlon and am inclined to think con- _ gretslonal action may be necessary prohibiting all sorts of service chevrons.” sold Mr. McKenzie. “Congressmen are being flooded with complaint* of discrimination In the manner lu which, a distinction Is drawn between those who served In this country and those In France. "The gold chevrons are mort highly prized, but this seems unfair. The men who served overseas did so because they happened to be ordered, not because of nny choice of their own. Some of those who remained in Qds country did far more valuable service than those who went across. “The men who dodged real military senlcc by going In ns army field clerks are entitled to wear the gold chevrons. Mo»t of them never aow c German aoldler except possibly after one sens captured. They scarcely got within sound of a battle. Yet these men with their gold chevrons In t-oroe way are made to appear superior to those who wear silver chevrons who were anxious to get Into the fighting but were held In this country for one reason or another. "To my mind. If there are to be service chevrons the most equitable system would be to have them worn by those who served lu actual fighting. Certainly there could l»e no objection to some little distinction for those who clearly risked their lives.” This raises the question of the air service. The flyers who were kept here a* Instructors clearly risked their Uves»coatlnuously.

Bolivia Asks Relief From the Peace Commission

T HE government of Bolivia has sent to Paris the evidence upon which that country bases Its claim* arising out of the Tocna and Alien dispute between Chile and Peru. Bolivia admits that she was defeated by Clrile In the war between Chile and Pe:u. In which Oolivia sided tilth Peru, but she refused to Kip> a treaty of peace until 20 years after the Peruvian govemformully concluded j>eace with Chile. Bolivia, as a result of the war. lost Antofosnsta. her only outlet to the oea, and ever since, according to the statement of a dlptomalle authority, she has been stilled ns a nation. Bolivia projNiec* to s<-e If whet tJfLtoS she considers the wrong done her In the last century cannot be righted through an era mi nation of the controversy hy a properly constituted tribunal. Bolivia's chief claim Is that she be given an outlet to the sen In order to develop her resources. By trenty«nrninccnmit* with Peru and .Chile. Ikdlvia has a free port at Antofagasta and Multendo. the latter in Peru, but she Insists that thla Is not sufficient. It Is considered certain by I-atln-Amorl.-nn diplomats here that the TncnaArtca question will be l-rouglit up at the peace congress In Paris. It Is learned that amors the advisors who went to France with President Wilson were experts on Chile und Peru. It Is stated here In offlilnl drclo* that Chile would not be surprised If the United States, and possibly un International tribunal to be set up by the pence congress, rails upon Chile to execute the provision of the treaty of Ancon which mar-od the end of tMe war between Chile and Peru, for a plebiscite to he lo-bl in ten years, or 1SU3. to decide whether Tacua und Aricu should remain Chilean territory or rkvert to Peru. The nation losing the province* would have to pay to the other $10,000,000. The United States has sent notea to the presidents of Chile and Peru Infonnlug them that It "stands reudy to tender alone, nr In conjunction with other countries of thii hemisphere, alt possible u«*tatauce" to bring about uu equitable solution. Paris Now Has Wilsonitis; Americans in Danger

Barton goes to town and again sees Sally Punkelberg, but his experience or this occasion is not so pleasant as at their flrat meeting. His fHandship with the great Silas Wright, however, prog re Mei more favorably.

W ORD <'limes from Paris that the French virulent form. President Wilson Ju*t m who's old enough to know what It's all abotii the Wilson cocktail. Wilson highball. Wilson lint. Wilson shoe. Wilson avenue and Wilson morcb. Everywhere you go—restaurant, hotel, thenter. in the street—you hear them discussing “Le President 'Villon." " No matter who the Frenchman I* who sits next to you or et a near-by table be finally draw* you Into cotivcitutlun on the one topic that Is uppernost tn his mind -President Wilson. The American civilian In Port* of about atxty or tiu-rwibouts who lu-iir* even t president tins certain erabarrassnictits. His Joker friends are apt any evening. <>t the merrymaker* Miron*, to point him out t> their girl friend* and with n wink say: ‘Tin olio.'' At lead three very •tlgp'fieil Anu-.-nui d kissed and k-U s-e-d.

has Wilsonitis In a most e hobby of every Parisian .<• nlrcndy dedicated tn him

i Mny-pole dance, end In

ITO PK COMTUfUKW