The Copan Leader (Copan, Okla.), Vol. 3, No. 8, Ed. 1 Friday, February 22, 1918 Page: 3 of 8
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THE COPAN LEADER
THE HILLMAN
By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
AN UNUSUAL
LOVE STORY
THE PRINCE OF $LYRE PLOTS JOHN’S DOWNFALL
THROUGH FASCINATING WOMEN, AND INTRO-
DUCES HIM TO MADAME CALAVERA, FA-
MOUS RUSSIAN DANCER
of the. English Cumberland district, when her car broke down late one
evening and she was forced to accept the overnight hospitality of Ste-
phen and John Strangewey, recluse woman haters living In a splendid
old mansion on a great farm. Before she left next day she had capti-
vated John and he had fascinated her. Three months later John on a
sudden Impulse, went to London and looked up Louise She was de-
lighted to see him and Introduced him to her friends of the artistic and
dramatic world, among them Sophy, a light-hearted little actress and
Gralllot, a playwright of remarkable mental gifts. The prince of Seyre
u wealthy French noble, whom he already knew, became his guide ami
he entered the gay bohemian life of the city. Gralllot warned Louise not
to toy with her two ardent lovers, John und the prince, and told her
the prince wus dangerous for John.
"Where did you find anything so
wonderful ns this?” she murmured.
"Lost among the hills of Cumber-
land," the prince replied. "I have an
estate up there—In fact, he and I are
Joint lords of the manor of the vil-
lage in which he has lived.”
"And you?" she whispered, glancing
at John to be sure that she was not
overheard. “Where do you come in?
As educator of the young? I don’t
seem to see you In that role I"
A very rare and by no means pleas-
ant smile twisted the corners of his
Ups for a moment.
"It Is a long story."
“Can I be brought In?" she nsked.
He nodded.
“It rests with you. It would suit my
plans."
She toyed with her fan for a mo-
ment, looked restlessly at the stage
and buck again at John. Then she rose
CHAPTER IX—Continued.
—6—
“Ah, no, dear lady,” he insisted, "I
am not tulklng wildly. I am Gruillot,
who for thirty years huve written dra-
mus on one subject and one subject
only—men and women. It has been
given to me to study muuy varying
types of the bumun race, to watch the
outcome of many strange situations. I
have watched the prince draw you
nearer and nearer to him. What there
Is or may be between you I do not
know. It Is not for me to know. But
if not now, some day Eugene of Seyre
means you to be his, und he Is not a
person to be lightly resisted. Now
from the skies there looms up this
sudden obstucle.”
“You do not realize,” Louise pro-
tested, almost eagerly, “how slight is
my acquaintance with Mr. Strangewey.
I once spent the night und a few hours
of the next morning at his house In
Cumberland, and that Is ull I have
ever seen of him. How cun his pres-
ence here be of any serious import to
Eugene?”
"As to that,” Gralllot replied, "I say
nothing. If what I have suggested
does not exist, then for the first time
In my life I have made a mistake; but
‘Beware, Not of the Enmity of Eugene
of Seyre, but of His Friendship."
i do not think I have. You may not
realize It, but there Is before you one
of those struggles that make or mar
ihe life of women of every age. As for
the men, I will only say this, and It Is
oecause of It that I have spoken nt
all—I nra a lover of fntr play, nnd the
struggle Is not even. The younger man
may hold every card in the pack, but
Eugene of Seyre has learned how to
win tricks without aces. I stayed be-
hind to sny this to you, Louise. You
know the young man, and I do not. It
Is you who must warn him."
"Warn him?" Louise repeated, with
upraised eyebrows. "Dear mnster,
aren’t we Just a little—do you mind if
I use that word so hateful to you—
melodramatic? The uge of duels la
pust, also the age of hired bravos and
assassins.”
“Agreed,” Gralllot Interrupted, "but
the weupons of today are more danger-
ous. It Is the souls of their enemies
that men attack. If I were a friend
of that young man’s, I would say to
him: ‘Beware, not of the enmity of
Eugene of Seyre, but of his friend-
ship!' And now, dear lady, I have fin-
ished. 1 lingered behind because the
world holds no more sincere admirer of
yourself und your genius than I. Don't
ring. Mny I not let myself out?"
He looked steadfastly Into her eyes.
His pluin, bearded face was heavy-
browed, lined, tired a little with the
coming of age.
“You are not going?” she nsked him.
"Dear Louise," he said, "I am going,
because the time when I can help Is
not yet. Listen! More harm bus been
done In this world by advice than In
any other way. I have no advice to
give you. Yon have one sure and cer-
tain guide, and that Is your own heart,
your own Instincts, your own sweet
consciousness of what la best. I leave
you to that. If trouble comes, I am
always ready!”
CHAPTER X.
4 —
During the remainder of that nfter-
noon and evening John was oppressed
by a vague sense of the splendor of
his surroundings nnd his companion's
mysterious capacity for achieving Im-
possibilities. Their visits to the tul-
lors, the shlrtmukers. the hosiers nnd
the bootmakers almost resembled a
royal progress. All difficulties were
waved aside. That night be dined,
clothed like other men from head to
foot, in the lofty dining room of one
of the most exclusive clubs in London.
The prince proved an agreeable If
somewhat reticent companion. He in-
troduced John to many well-known
people, always with that little note of
personal interest In his few words of
presentation which gave a certain sig-
nificance to the ceremony.
From the club, where the question of
John’s proposed membership, the
prince acting as his sponsor, was fa-
vorably discussed with several mem-
bers of the committee, they drove to
Covent Garden, and for the first time
la his life John entered the famous
operu house. The prince, preceded by
an attendant, led the way to a box
upon the second tier. A woman turned
her head as they entered and stretched
out her hand, which the prince raised
to his lips.
“You see, I have taken you ut your
word, Eugene,” she remurked.
“Y'ou give me double pleasure, dear
lady,” the prince declared. "Not only
is It a Joy to he your host, but you give
me also the opportunity of presenting
to you my friend, John Strangewey.
Strangewey, this Is my very distant
relative and very dear friend, Lady
Hilda Mulloch.”
Lady Hilda smiled graciously at
John. She was apparently of a little
less than middle age, with durk bands
of chestnut hair surmounted by a tiara.
Her face was the face of a clever and
still beautiful woman; her figure slen-
der and dignified; her voice low and
delightful.
"Are you paying your nightly hom-
age to Culavera, Mr. Strangewey, or
are you only nn occasional visitor?”
she asked.
“This Is my first visit of any sort
to Covent Garden," John told her.
She looked at him with as much sur-
prise ns good breeding permitted. John,
who had not ns yet sat down, seemed
almost preternaturally tall In that
small box, with its low ceiling. He
was looking around the house with the
enthusiasm of a boy. Lady Hilda
glanced away from him toward the
prince, nnd smiled; then she looked
back at John. There was something
like admiration in lie face.
“Do you live abroad?” she asked.
John shook Ills head.
"I live In Cumberland,” he said.
“Many people here seem to think that
that Is the same thing. My brother
and I have a farm there.”
"But you visit London occasionally,
surely?"
“I have not been in London," John
told her, “since I passed through It on
my way home from Oxford, eight years
ago."
"I have never heard anything so ex-
traordinary in my life!" the woman de-
clared frankly. "Is it the prince who
has induced you to break out of your
seclusion?”
“Our young friend,” the prince ex-
plained, “finds himself suddenly In al-
tered circumstances. He hns been left
a large fortune, nnd has come to spend
It. Incidentally, I hope, he has come
to see something more of your sex than
Is possible among his mountain wilds.
He has come, In short, to look a little
way into life."
Lady Hilda leaned back in her chair.
"How romantic!”
“The prince amuses himself," John
assured her. "I don’t suppose I shall
stay very long In London. I want just
to try It for a time.”
She looked at him nlmost wistfully.
She was a woman with brains; a wom-
an notorious for the freedom of her
life, for her intellectual gifts, for her
almost brutal disregard of the conven-
tions of her class. The psychological
interest of John Strangewey’s situa-
tion appealed to her powerfully. Be-
sides, she hnd a weakness for hand-
some men.
"At any rate,” said Lady Hilda, “I
atn glad to think that I shall he able
to watch you when you see Culnvera
In her dances for your first time.”
The curtain rnng up upon one of the
most gorgeous and sensuous of the
Russian ballets. John, who by their
joint Insistence was occupying the
front chair In the box, leaned forward
In his place, his eyes steadfastly fixed
upon the stage. Both the prince and
Lady Hilda, In the background, al-
though they occasionally glanced at
the performance, devoted most of their
attention to watching him.
As the story progressed and the tnu-
♦slc grew In passion nnd voluptuous-
ness, they distinctly saw his almost
militant protest. They saw the knit-
ting of his firm mouth nnd the slight
contraction of his eyebrows. The
prince and his friend exchanged
glances. She drew her chair a little
further hack, and he followed her ex-
ample.
| from her place and stood before the
lookinggluss. From the greater dbscur-
ity of the box she motioned to the
prince.
John remained entirely heedless of
their movements. His eyes were
still riveted upon the stage, fascinated
with the wonderful coloring, the reali-
zation of a new art.
“You and I,” Lady Hilda whispered,
“do not need to play about with the
truth, Eugene. What are you doing
this for?”
“The idlest whim,” the prince as-
sured her quietly. “Look at him.
Think for a moment of his position—
absolutely without experience, entirely
Ignorant about women, with a fortune
one only dreams of, and probably the
handsomest animal In London. What
Is going to become of him?"
"I think I understand a little,” she
confessed.
"I think you do,” the prince assent-
ed. “He has view’s, this young man.
It Is my humor to see them dissipated.
The modern Sir Galahad always irri-
tated me a little.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“They’ll never give him a chance,
these women,” she said. “Much better
hand him over to me.”
The prince smiled enigmatically, and
Lady Hilda returned to her seat. John
was still leaning forward with his eyes
fixed upon Calavera, who was dancing
alone now. The bnllet was drawing
toward the end. The music had
reached its climax of wild and passion-
ate sensuousness, dominated and in-
spired by the woman whose every
movement und every glance seemed
part of some occult, dimly understood
language.
When the curtain rang down, John,
like many others, was confused. Nev-
ertheless, after that first breathless
pause, he stood up nnd Joined in the
tumultuous applause.
“Well?" the prince asked.
John shook his head.
“I don't know,” he answered.
"Neither does anyone else,” Lady
Hilda said. "Don’t try to analyze your
Impressions for our benefit, Mr.
Strangewey. I am exactly In your po-
sition, nnd I have been here a dozen
times. Even to us hardened men and
women of the world, this Russian mu-
sic came ns a surprise. There were
parts of It you did not like, though,
weren’t there?”
"There were parts of It I hated.”
John agreed. "There were passnges
that seemed to aim at discord in every
sense of the word.”
She nodded sympathetically. They
were on their way down the broad
staircase.
“I wonder,” she murmured, "whether
I nm going to be asked out to sup-
per?”
"Alas, not tonight, dear lady,” the
prince regretted. "I am having a few
friends at Seyre House.”
She shot a glance at him and
shrugged her shoulders. She was evi-
dently displeased.
"How much too bad !” she exclaimed.
"I am not nt all sure that it Is right
of you to Invite Mr. Strangewey to one
of your orgies. A respectable little
supper at the Carlton, nnd a cignrette
In my library afterward, would have
been n great deni better for both of
you—certainly for Mr. Strangewey. I
think I shall run away with him, ns
It is!"
The prince shrugged his shoulders.
“It is unfortunate," he sighed, "hut
we are both engaged. If you will give
us the opportunity some other eve-
ning—”
"I am not nt all sure that I shall have
anything more to do with you, Eu-
gene,” she declared. “You are not be-
having nicely. Will you come and see
me while you are in town, Mr.
Strnngewey?” she added, turning to
John.
“I should like to very much," he re-
plied. "I think,” he added, a little
hesitatingly, “that I have read one of
your hooks of travel. It Is very in-
teresting to meet you.”
“So my fame hns really reached
Cumberland !" she laughed. "Y'ou must
come and talk to me one afternoon
quite soon. Will you?”
"1 will come with pleasure,” John
promised.
They stood for a few moments In the
crowded vestibule until Lady Hilda
Mulloch's cur wus called. The prince
stood back, allowing John to escort her
to the door. She detained him for a
moment after she had taken her seat,
and leaned out of the window, her fin-
gers still In his hnnd.
“Be careful!" she whispered. “The
prince’s supper parties are Just a lit-
tle—shall I say banal? There are bet-
ter things if one waits!”
CHAPTER XI.
The reception rooms of Seyre House,
j by some people considered the finest In
| London, were crowded that night by a,
brilliant and cosmopolitan assembly.
For some time John stood by the
prince's side and w’as introduced to
more people than he had ever met be-
fore In his life. Presently, however,
he was discovered by his friend Amer-
ton.
"Queer thing your being here, a
friend of the prince and all that!” the
young man remarked. "Where's Miss
Sophy this evening?"
"I haven't seen her,” John replied. "I
don't believe she is Invited.”
"Like to be introduced to some of
the girls, or shuil we go and have u
drink?"
John was hesitating when he felt a
hand upon his shoulder. The prince’s
voice sounded In his ear.
“Strangewey,” he said, “I am privi-
leged to present you to Mme. Aida
Calavera. Madame, this is my friend
of whom I spoke to you.”
John turned away from the little
group of girls and young men toward
whom Amerton hud been leading him.
The woman was different from any-
thing be had Imagined, from anything
he had ever seen. In the ballet a
writhing, sensuous figure with every
gesture a note In the octave of pas-
sion, here she seemed the very per-
sonification of a negative and striking
immobility. She was slender, not so
tall as she had seemed upon the stage,
dressed in white from head to foot.
Her face was almost marblelike In Its
pallor, her smooth, black hair was
drawn tightly over her ears, and her
eyes were of the deepest shade of blue.
She raised her hand, as he bowed, with
a gesture almost royal in its condescen-
sion. The prince, with quiet tact,
bridged over the moment during which
John struggled In vain for something
to say.
"Mr. Strangewey,” he remarked,
“paid his first visit to Covent Garden
tonight. He has seen his first ballet,
as we moderns understand the term.
I cannot help envying him that delight.
He naturally finds it difficult to realize
this additional good fortune. Will you
excuse me for one moment?”
The prince departed to welcome
some later arrivals. The noisy little
group standing close nt hand, from
which John had been diverted, passed
on Into the refreshment room, and the
two were, for a few moments, almost
Isolated.
"You were pleased with the perform-
ance, I hope?"
Her voice was in character with her
personality. It was extremely low,
scarcely louder than a whisper. To
his surprise, It was almost wholly free
from any foreign accent.
“It w’ns very wonderful,” John an-
swered.
“The prince tells me,” she continued,
“that you are a stranger In London.
Give me your arm. We will walk to
a quieter place. In a few moments we
are to he disturbed for supper. One
eats so often nnd so much in tills coun-
try. Why do I say that, though? It
Is not so bad ns in Russia.”
They passed across the polished
wood floor into a little room with
oriental fittings, where a lamp was
swinging from the ceiling, giving out a
dim hut pleasant light. The place was
empty, and the sound of the music
nnd voices seemed to come from a dis-
tance. She sank down upon n divan
back among the shadows, and mo-
tioned John to sit by her side.
“You have come to find out, to un-
derstand—is that not so?" she Inquired.
"What you know of life, the prince
tells me, you have learned from books.
Now you have come to discover what
more there is to he learned In the
world of men and women."
"The prince has been very kind,"
John said.
She turned her head slowly and
looked at him.
“A young man to whom the prince
chooses to he kind Is, In a way, for-
? %
wm
W ■
7/
"Give Me Your Arm. We Will Walk to
a Quieter Place.”
tunnte,” she said. “There is very lit-
tle In life, In men or In women, which
he does not understand. Let us re-
turn to what we were speaking about.
I find It very Interesting.”
“You are very kind,” John declared.
“What you will learn here,” she went
on, "depends very much upon yourself.
Are you Intelligent? Perhaps not very,"
she added, looking at him critically.
"You have brains, however, without a
doubt. You have also what places you
at once en rapport with the cult of the
moment—you are wonderfully good-
looking."
Johu moved a little uneasily in his
place. He felt that the dancer’s eyes
were fixed upon him, and he was fever-
ishly unxious not to respond to the In-
vitation of their guze. He was con-
scious, too, of the queer, Indefinable
fascination of her near presence In the
dimly-lighted room.
“What you will learn," she proceed-
ed, "depends very much upon your de-
sires. If you seek for the best, and
are content with nothing else, you will
find It. But so few men are content
to wait 1"
"I Intend to," John said simply.
“Look at me, please,” she ordered.
Once more he wus compelled to look
into her deep-blue eyes. The Incom-
prehensible smile was still upon her
lips.
"You have loved?"
“No,” he answered, taken a little
aback by the abruptness of the ques-
tion.
“You grow more wonderful! You
are free from any distracting thoughts
about women? You have no entangle-
ments?”
“I have nothing of the sort," John
declared, almost Irritably. “There is
one person who has made a wonder-
ful change in my life. 1 believe I could
say that I am absolutely certain of my
feelings for her, but so far she has not
given me much encouragement. Tell
me, madame, why do you usk me these
questions?”
“Because it Interests me," she re-
plied. “Why do you not insist that
this lady should tell you the truth?’
"I have come to London to insist,"
he told her, "but I have been here only
forty-eight hours. I am waiting.”
"So many people spend their lives
doing that,” she wen’ on presently. “It
does not uppenl to me. The moment I
make up my mind that I want a thing,
I take It. The moment I make up my
mind to give, I give.”
John was suddenly conscious of the
closeness of the atmosphere. The fin-
gers of his bands were clenched tight-
ly together. He swore to himself that
he would not look into this woman's
face. He listened to the hand which
was playing In the balcony of the great
hall, to the murmur of the voices, the
shouts of laughter. He told himself
that Mme. Calavera was amusing her-
self with him.
“The prince's party,” she continued,
after a long pause, “seems to be a
great success, to Judge by the noise
they are making. So many people
shout nnd laugh when they are happy.
I myself find a more perfect expres-
sion of happiness in silence.”
She was leaning a little back In her
place. One arm was resting upon a
pile of cushions, the other hung loose-
ly over the side of the divan. John
felt a sudden desire to rise to his feet,
nnd a simultaneous consciousness thut
his feet seemed to be made of lead.
"You may hold my fingers." she said;
“nnd please keep your face turned
towurd me. Why are you nervous? I
nm not very formidable."
He took her fingers, very much ns
the prince had done upon her arrival,
nnd pressed them formally to Ills lips.
Then he released them and rose.
“You know,” he confessed, “I am
very stupid at this sort of thing. Shall
we go back to the reception rooms? I
shall he the most unpopular man here
if I keep you any longer.”
The smile deepened slightly. Little
lines appeared nt the sides of her
eyes. So far from being annoyed, he
could see that she was laughing.
"Joseph,” she mocked, “I nm not
tempting you, really! Do sit down. I
have met men In many countries, but
none like you. Don't you realize that
your love for one woman should make
you kind to all?”
“No, I don't,” he answered bluntly.
She patted his hand gently.
“Come,” she said, “do not be afraid
of me. I will not make love to you—
seriously. You must be kind to me be-
cause everybody spoils me. After sup-
per there are one or two more ques-
tions I must nsk you. Do you know
that I am going to dance here? Never
before have I danced In a private house
in England. Except upon the stage, I
like to dance only to those whom I
love!”
The little space between the cur-
tains was suddenly darkened. John
turned eagerly around, and, to his im-
mense relief, recognized the prince.
Their host came forward to where they
were sitting, and held out his arm to
Calavera.
“Dear lady.” he announced, “supper
is served. Will you do me this great
honor?”
She rose to her feet. The prince
turned to John.
“This is my privilege as host,” he
explained; “but if you will follow us,
you will find some consolation In store
for you.”
“Well?” the prince asked, as he
handed Alda Calavera to her place at
hts right hand.
“I think not,” she replied.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. For
a moment he glanced down the supper
table with the care of a punctilious
host, to see that his guests were prop-
erly seated. He addressed a few
trivialities to the mu si cal-comedy star
who was sitting on his left. Then he
leaned once more toward the great
dancer.
“You surprise me,” he said. “I
should have thought thnt ;he enter-
prise would have commended Itself to
you. You do not doubt the facts?”
“They are obvious enough,” she re-
plied. “The young man tried to tell
me thnt he was In love with another
woman, and I felt suddenly powerless.
I think I must be getting to that age
when one prefers to achieve one’s con-
quests with the lifting of a finger.”
The prince sighed.
“I shall never understand your nn !*’
he declared. “I should have supposed
that the slight effort of resistance
would have provided just the necessarj
stimulus.”
She turned her beautiful head am!
looked at the prince through narrowet
eyes.
"After all,” she asked, “what slioulr
I gain? The young man is, in his way
u splendid work of art. Why should 1
be vandal enough to destroy It? )
shall ask you another question.”
The prince slowly sipped the winf
from the glass that he was holding tc
his lips. Then he set it down dellb
erately.
“Why not?”
“What Is your Interest? Is It a bet
a whim, or—enmity?”
“You mny count It the latter,” th«
prince replied deliberately.
Calavera laughed softly to herself.
“Now, for the first time,” she con ;
fessed, “I feel Interest. This Is when
one realizes that we live In the most
iiniRisslble age of all history. Th«
great noble who seeks to destroy th«
poor young man from the country b
powerless to wreak harm upon him
You can neither make him a paupei
nor have him beaten to death. Why
are there princes any longer, I won
der? You are only as other men.”
“It is an unhappy reflection, but j
It Is the truth,” the prince admitted
“My ancestors would have disposed ol
II KLONDIKE TO THE
WM
lalr
Mf 13
’
F\
"I Like to Dance Only to Those Whom
1 Love."
this young man as I should u trouble-
some fly, nnd It would have cost them
no more than a few silver pieces and
a sack of wine. Today, alas, condi-
tions ure different. It will cost me
more.”
She trifled for a moment with the
salad upon her plate, which as yet she
had scarcely tasted.
“I am feeling,” she remarked, “mag-
nificently oriental—like Cleopatra. The
sensation pleases me. We are bar-
gaining, are we not—”
“We shall not bargain,” the prince
interrupted softly. “It is you whe
shall name your price.”
She raised her eyes and dropped
i them again.
“The prince has spoken,” she mur-
mured.
He touched her fingers for a mo-
ment with his, as If to seal their com-
pact ; then he turned once more tc
the lady upon his left.
A Western Canada Crop Estimat-
ed at $12,000, Makes
$19,000.
Messrs. Harris, formerly of Audu-
bon, Iowa, wrote the “Audubon Advo-
ente,” expressing their satisfaction of
things In Western Canada. They lo-
cated at Makepeace, Alberta. They
say there are those who make good,
and those who fall. The former are
those that land agents refer to when
advertising their land. “But,” contin-
ues the letter, “A great many of the
farmers In this vicinity pay for their
land with their first crop. A man
near here bought a section of land In
the year 1915 for $23 per acre. He
broke 300 acres of the land during the
summer of 1915. In the fall of 191(5
he threshed 16,000 bushels of wheat,
which paid for his land, all expenses
and had n balance of $4,000. In the
fall of 1917 he threshed nearly as
much off the other half of the section.
At the present time he would not take
$50 per acre for his land.
“We have had five crops In Alberta.
The two dry years (1914-1917) our
wheat made 20 und 30 bushels to the
acre respectively. In 1916 we raised
50 bushels of wheat to the acre on
summer fallow. The best results are
obtained by plowing or breaking in
the summer, working It down In the
fall so that It will retain the moisture.
Thus farming one-half your ground
each year.
“Persons owning land here and still
living in the States should, If they
don't feel themselves able to come up
here and finance themselves until they
could get their first crop, get some of
their land broken and worked down
In the fall before they come. The
next spring they could come and put
In the crop, fence and put up their
buildings. This why they have to
wait only one summer for their first
crop.
“It Is not advisable for a person to
come here in the spring, break out
land and put it in crop the first year,
because the moisture Is not In the
ground and a failure Is almost cer-
tain unless It Is an exceptionally wet
year.
“One of the boys from that locality,
Mr. Peder M. Jensen came to Alberta
last spring. He bought a 30-60 Rum-
ely Oil-Pull engine on the 8th day of
June, 1917. After that date he broke
1.100 acres of prairie sod for which
he received an average of $5.00 per
acre.
“Mr. Hansen from your community,
was up here last fall with several
prospective land buyers from that
neighborhood. At that time he in»
quired the value of the crop on the
section we were farming. We told
him that It would probably make In
the neighborhood of $12,000. This
same crop when sold brought nearly
$19,000. The most of It being sold
when prices were low for t'.e year.”—
Advertisement.
New One to Pa.
Son—Pa, what Is Bunker Hill?
Pa—I don't know whether it’s a nine
or eighteen-hole golf course.
Do you believe that Strange-
wey will be able to withstand
the magnificent fascinations and
voluptuous efforts of the Russian
dancer to ensnare him?
tTO BE CONTINUED.)
HOBBIES ARE NOT ALL BAD
They May Have a Very Soothing In-
fluence Upon One if They Are
Not Ridden to Death.
A great deal has been said from
time to time of the unhealthy influ-
ence of what the world is pleased to
call “hobbles," the idea being, of
course, that valuable time is wasted
in their pursuit which could other-
wise be used to advantage. Of course.
In the case of hobbies, just as In all
other Interests of purely personal
preference, the harm lies in their
abuse. To mount a hobby and ride It
to’ death, thus deliberately thwart-
ing our real aim. Is sheer waste of
time, but to care for it gently, to
adapt Its Influences to our advantage
and to draw upon It with discretion
is a very different matter, says the
Charleston News and Courier. Hob-
bles. ns a rule, are evidences of Indi-
viduality ; they represent various
routes by which we are struggling to
arrive at a certain goal, a goal per-
haps which mny not be clearly defined,
hut which exists somewhere for those
who try to reach It. We find a certain
comfort at times In yielding to the
more or less soothing influences of
some particular hobby, whether It be
merely the discussion of a special
subject or active participation in a
particular pursuit. So long as we keep
ourselves within check and resist the
temptation to give way to unrestrict-
ed Indulgence In the favorite pursuit
which others are pleased to designate
as a hobby, we can do no harm to
anyone, but the trouble is that once
we settle upon a special interest
which will serve as nn outlet for our
feelings, we are quite likely to em-
phasize that interest to an unwhole-
some degree.
GREEN'S AUGUST FLOWER
has been a household remedy all over
the civilized world for more than half
a century for constipation, intestinal
troubles, torpid liver and the generally
depressed feeling that accompanies
such disorders. It is a most valuable
remedy for indigestion or nervous dys-
pepsia and liver trouble, bringing on
headache, coming up of food, palpita-
tion of heart and many other symp-
toms. A few doses of August Flower
will Immediately relieve you. It Is a
gentle laxative. Ask your druggist.
Sold in all civilized countries.—Adv.
The Main Thing.
“Don’t take any notice of the cook,
Maria.” “I haven't dear, but she’s just
given it.”
Fiery Red Pimples.
A hot bath with Cutlcura Soap followed
by an application of Cuticura Oint-
ment to distressing eczemas, etc.,
proves their wonderful properties. For
free samples address “Cuticura, Dept.
X, Boston.” At druggists nnd by mall.
Soap 25, Ointment 25 and 50— Adv.
Under Feminism.
“Of what is this woman accused?’*
“Femininity, your honoress.”
"Six months!”—Life.
Retter nn ounce of today than a
pound of tomorrow.
Farming Day and Night.
Great Britain has decided to carry
on fanning operations for 24 hours a
day by means of hundreds of American
gasoline tractor plows, searchlights,
expert chauffeurs and taxicab drivers,
and a civilian army of night plowmen
and plowwomen. Great estates which
have lain fallow for countless genera-
tions are to be broken op, and soon
moors and vast parkland expanses
which have been the delight of the
British sportsmen will hear the strange
clatter of the gasoline tractor.
Keep Yourself Fit
You can't afford to be laid up with
sore, aching kidneys in these days of
high prices. Some occupations bring
kidney troubles; almost any work
makes weak kidneys worse. If you feel
tired all the time, and sutler with lame
back, sharp pains, dizzy spells, head-
aches and disorderd kidney action, use
Doan’s Kidney Pills. It may save an
attack of rheumatism, dropsv, or
Bright’s disease. Doan’s have helped
thousands back to health.
An Oklahoma Case
Otto Besse, city tire-
man. N. T1 ird ?>t.,
McAlester, Okla., says:
“I have used Doan’s
Kidney Pills off and on
for years and they have
always corrected any
attack of kidney disor-
der I have had, and
have put my kidneys in
pood shape. At one time
I had a dull heavy pain
and soreness in my back
that wort* me out. My^
kidneys acted too freely^
especially at nigh t>\
Doan's Kidney Pills^K
have proved so good for this trouble
that I always recommend them to
anyone bothered that way ’*
Get Doan's at Any Store, 60c a Box
DOAN’S “JJLiy
FOSTER-M1LBURN CO., BUFFALO. N. Y.
Economy Note.
By reversing the handle on a dust
brush which has been worn near the
point additional wear may be ob-
tained.
COUGHING
annoys others nnd hurt* you. Relieve throat
irritation and tickling, and get rid of coughs,
colds and hoarseness by taking at one*
PISO’S
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Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
The Copan Leader (Copan, Okla.), Vol. 3, No. 8, Ed. 1 Friday, February 22, 1918, newspaper, February 22, 1918; Copan, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc950533/m1/3/: accessed April 25, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.