smiiiiwipiii § A ROMANCE 112 1 OF PICKLES I » $ By H. S. Harrison Copyright, 1908, by Benj. B. Hampton Born in dinginess, bred to the uses of adversity, sharpened by the old plain need of something to eat, he took his apprenticeship In the ways of things and at twelve stood forth a finished and resolute man of his word. Then, having all ,the facts at his com mand and the future of his mother to provide for, he made his hard, careful plans for success, and put his determined foot upon the ladder. There was never anything to do with Tommy except to stand aside and let him rise. This they soon discov ered at Ilathaway's great factory, where he began by folding circulars and copying letters. When he was sixteen they made him a traveling salesman. That was the last day that his mother ever did any work. By anoth er week he had moved her uptown. Three years later, when they took liim off the road because they needed him in the ofllce, he moved his moth er again. By another year they were giving him a salary which he could not think of without blushing. But Tommy had seen at the start that the way to make money was to save it; and at twenty-three his chance came. Hathaway wanted new capital to enlarge the business, and was discussing the proposed improve ments with his partners and Tommy when the latter blurted suddenly, "Why not let me come in?" The general manager stared. The president, great Hathaway himself, looked out of the window and smiled. "Why, you see, Tommy," he ex plained, "this is a matter of such-an such a sum." "Yes," said Tommy, undismayed by the size of the figure, "I know. I could bring a certified check for it on Thursday." "Why, where on earth did you get so much money, Tommy?" "I have been drawing a lot of money for the last seven years," sail Driscoll calmly. "Then I've been awfully lucky on some investments," and he mentioned one or two. So Tommy went into the firm as treasurer, but he was much more than that. At the end of his second year the earnings of the firm had ex actly doubled. Toward the end of Uic third they had doubled again. By the end of the fifth when crowding com petition had brought progress to a standstill, the lines for the great merger—seven big houses from Jer sey City to Los Angeles—had already been laid. By the end of the sixth year the merger was an accomplished fact. It was really Tommy Driscoll of Hathaway's who had put the deal through, though the papers did not say so. Then Driscoll bought a few more gilt-edged securities, a Utile more choice real estate, did a littlo further figuring and found that he was In a fair way to become a wealthy young man. But suddenly, just when he was making plans for playing busi ness on a really lurge scale, his com mercial career came to an abrupt close. "Tommy," said his mother one night, as she sat on the side of his bed and gently stroked his great mop of a head, "I want you to give up the factory—and—be a gentleman." "A what?" "A gentleman," said his mother softly. "Yes'm," said Tommy. "And marry," added his mother, her cheek against his, "some nice girl—a lady." "A what?" "A lady," said his mother still more softly. "Yes'm," said Tommy again. He took an office in a down-town sky-scraper, engaged a stenographer, and spent an hour there every day, looking after his affairs which pros pered largely. He was approaching twenty-nine at this time, very big and simple, very pleasant to look at, very full of those eager spirits which all these hard years had not been able to crush out of him. "I believe I'll start and find a lady," he said to himself —"a lady"—and here he smiled, for this was Hatha way's most famous catchword, which he himself had invented "who's 'the best thing going.' " Then one day his patience was re warded. She sat in a Victoria with a maid, while a male attendant and some baggage followed in a hansom. "Smith," said Tommy to his man, who was behind, "follow that man in the hansom to the ticket window. Find out where he's going and buy me a ticket to the same place. "To Oldcourt, sir," murmured Smith at the designated tryst, handing Tom my the ticket. "The lady and the maid have Just gone on. There are two cars, sir, the Laconia and the La tonia. The lady and the maid are In the Laconia. I have got you seats In both, sir." "I shall ride In the Latonia," said Tommy. "Pack me, Smith," he said, "for a week. Say, four trunks. Tell my mother that I have suddenly been called out of town and will write. Come on with the trunks to-night. 1 shall be at the principal hotel. Re port to ma there at noon to-morrow. Tell io§ at that time where I shall find Miss Belden —Miss Vespasla D.?l« den." "Very good, sir," said Smith. With Tommy driving and Smith silent in the tonneau, they whizzed up the beautiful white road, turned to tho left and slowed down at a pretty shingled house with low pillars, and wide, well furnished porches. "The club-house, Smith," said Dris coll sagely. "You are sure she is golfing this morning?" The man nodded, and, throwing on speed again, Tommy ran along beside the high white wall which surrounds the club grounds on all sides. "Wait for me here, Smith," he said. The wall was of such height that a six-fpot man might reach with some exertion. Driscoll with apparent ease, laid his hands on the top, pulled him self up and so dropped to the other side. Far away on the hillside was n lit tle plodding group—men, boys and clubs. A bare hundred yards away where a little dancing brook widened suddenly into a miniature lake, rose a splendid oak. Beneath the oak re clined a girl. Whistling a snatch of song, Tommy drew near to the tree, left off whist ling abruptly, and stood looking down at the girl, who at a glance had sum moned him to Oldcourt. Miss Belden remained quite silent. She neither screamed nor smiled, neither asked him to be seateu nor to begone, neith er questioned his presence nor ans wered his look of eager friendliness: the reason for all these things was that she was fast asleep. Presently she moved, brought, her slender hands to her eyes, made ready to be roused, and then quite sudden ly she opened her eyes, met his friendly scrutiny, and straightened up, startled. "Why," she cried breathlessly strug gling in the mists of sleep—"Why you! YOU!" "Yes." he assured her calmly, "it is I." "You're a real person then! Why —why—why —who are you? Where could I have seen you before?" Tommy's face fell a little at that. Iteally troubled she looked at him, intently striving to speak. And Tom my, because her bewilderment was so enchanting, laughed. "Oh!" cried Miss Belden, suddenly drawing away a little, but still pos sessed by the great wonder of It —"Oh! I know you now. I saw you in an ad vertisement. You are Hathaway's Pickles." For his picture in a hundred' poses, but always with that one delighted smile, had appeared in every maga zine in America and upon the vast majority of billboards. He was al ways shown as a fashionably garbed young man on the point of partak ing of a gherkin; and opposite his jubilant mouth invariably hung the famous slogan: HATHAWAY'S PICKLES The Best Thing Going Thus it happened that Tommy Dris coll, eminent from Bangor to San Francisco, as the Hathaway Pickle man, found himself in the most nat ural way, telling the story of Ills life to perhaps the most courted girl in America. "As to those pictures, he ruminated, coming back to them, "I got up that Idea myself: always showing one fig ure and one catch-phrase in our ads, you know. They picked me to sit for them because I looked like a healthy appetite and had the right smile. I used to think it great fun; it was like being a celebrity, you know. I don't mind it now, of course, but my mother does. She wants them to stop using my pictures, but 1 don't like to make them: it's gotten pretty valuable as a trademark, you see. But mother Is quite particular in that way. It was because of her wish that I left the American Condiment Company. She wanted me to give up business and be a gentleman—those are her words: bless her heart!—also to mar ry a lady. "Yes," said Miss Belden. "I have been wanting to have you tell me about that. Which?" "Which?" repeated Tommy. "Being a gentleman or marrying a lady?" "Oh, that!" he laughed. "Why," he added, as though this would explain everything, "it was to see you that I came to Oldcourt." "Oh," said Miss Belden, "then I un derstand that you don't want to mar ry me?" "Well —that is," he hesitated, blush ing a little. "I hadn't thought of the matter In that light." "Now tell me," she said, "Why you wanted to see me, and what that had to do with being a gentleman." "The connection isn't close a bit, Is It?" laughed Driscoll. "But it's this way." And he told her how it had been his pleasure to hunt for the best of things since he had become a man of leisure, and all about his theory of a type of woman different from any thing he had ever seen, and how he had sought for it, as part of his de-. lightful investigations, and how un successfully. "And now that you have —met me," she said, "I suppose I am merely one more disappointment?" "You!" cried Tommy. "Well, I should say not! I was certain of that the minute I walked over here and looked down at you. I said to my self at once, 'Here she Is at last —the best thing going!' and the conviction is strengthened by every word you say." "I am glad to hear you say that," she said simply. "I should not have liked to know that upon meeting mo, you found me disappointing. And I'm glad you came here and talked to me this morning. Now," she said, rising gracefully. "I must say good-bye. You leave Oldcourt this afternoon, I sup pose?" "This afternoon!" repeated Tommjr, with surprise. "No, I'm here for a week. What're you going to do now?" which surprised her into nnswering, "I am going home to dress for a luncheon at 2 o'clock." "What're you going to do this after noon?" demanded Tommy. "After luncheon I shall piny bridge until six. Then I shall go home and dress again, this time for dinner." "What're you going to do to-night?" "To-night," said Miss Belden, "I goto a tiresome masquerade at the house of my friends--the Vander voorts." "H'm!" said Tommy, "masquerade! Well, I'm awfully sorry you're engaged all day, but I'll see you then, any way." "Why—l'm afraid not," she said kindly. "It's—it's really quite a pri vate affair, you see, meant particular ly for friends of the family." "I'll be there," he assured her se renely. "It'll be all right. I want to see you to-night, and since you're go ing to the Vandervoorts, why I must be there too." At 10.10 p. m„ his duties apparently ended, the ticket taker, who was en tering Harvard next year, was on the point of joining the gay company within the Vandervoort villa, when a tall figure In a black domino stepped upon the berugged veranda and put his foot upon the threshold. The orchestra was playing. Every one in the great room was dancing ex cept an elderly couple, and a Sister of Charity who sat alone opposite the entrance. Tommy crossed over eag erly and bowed before her. "Little Sister," he said, "won't you dance?" She arose gratefully and as they moved off he cheerfully ventured, "You looked a little lonesome, I thought." "I was," she admitted. "Maybe," he hazarded, "you're a bit of an outsider like me." "Yes," she faltered, "I am an out sider." Driscoll laughed. "I don't know a soul In tills room, but one, and how to llnd her I haven't the faintest notion. "I do.rt belong here either," she replied desperately. "I'm a stenog rapher from Boston and came here on my vacation. Then this afternoon I —1 picked up an invitation to this on the beach, and 1 thought I'd come. But oh, I wish I hadn't. I think they sus pect me. I'm having—l'm having a perfectly ghastly time." He danced next with a gorgeous Princess of the Empire, who knew that she had never met him before and flirted with liini outrageously. The third time around his eye fell on tho little Sister seated alone in a corner of the room. He asked the Princess why this should be. "Haven't you heard?" she replied languidly. "Why, we're almost sure that she's one of those Kuthvens from Chicago. That's so like Mrs. Van dervoort's liberality, isn't it?" "Well, Isn't she nice, then?" asked Tommy, curiously. "Nice," she echoed. "Oh, I suppose so, but she's a rank outsider. She's impertinent to come here at all. Please tell me who you are!" "Are you sure you don't recognize me?" parried Tommy, before detach ing himself from the Princess and making his way over to the little Sis ter for their third dance. "You simply mustn't sit there pol ishing the wall like that," he remon strated. "You must mix among them. There isn't a thing to be afraid of. Why they all think that you're one of the invited guests—Miss Ruthven of Chicago, whom they are cutting." "But —I can't go about among the people as you say. 1 can't. I'm afraid to." "Then," said Tommy earnestly, "you must give me the rest of your dances." "No, no. I'm not so selfish as that. You must not miss such a chance to dance with these rich and distinguish ed people." "Are they better to dance with than you?" "Why," said the little stenographer in liter low scared voice, "don't you want to get into society?" "How do you mean?" asked Tommy, puzzled. "Bless you, I have all the society I want. Give me the next one, anyway, won't you? And let me take you to supper?" Ladies of quality gorgeously ap pareled, danced the fifth and the sev enth with him, and he prospered with them famously. During this his trou bles began. A short, stout man waltz ing with the Princess of the Empire, circled by him and hearkened to his chatter. "Why," he exclaimed, "hang me if that black domino isn't young Driscoll, who made a fortune out of pickles in New York! I'd know that laugh among a thousand. Well! who will we be meeting next?" "Really?" said the Princess. "That one! Well, I don't care. He's fas cinating—ever if he Is so taken with that Ruthven girl." The short, stout man knew Tommy in New York, and liked him, but he felt, naturally that the functions of the chosen must be kept untarnished from the herd. He mentioned this latest instance of Mrs. Vandervoort's laxnesß to his aunt. Like wildfire, the scandal spread, the result being that when Tommy presently re-enter ed the ballroom from the veranda, a giggling, suppressed but violent, sprang up behind him. The orchestra was Just starting a new dance —the ninth. He sauntered to the line of people seated In chairs along the left hand wall, tendered his arm to a dec orated 80-Peep, and was emphatical ly refused. "She's spotted me for an outsider," he concluded cheerfully—remember ing now that he had had rome dlfflcul tjr In securing a partner for MM eighth—and summoned next an Old Virginia belle of the Colonial Period, who also, pointedly, declined him. Passing on he presently espied the Empire Princess among tho silent group of maskers, and he was quite sure that she would dance with him. And then, behind him, suddenly echoed a note of suppressed laughter. As he turned in tho direction from whence it came a similar caekio sprang up from the other side. Then another and another from the elder and sterner upholders of tr diii. n tin til a score or more wcro sharir.. in the unseemly mirth. Tommy felt that every eye In the great room was fast ened upon him. "What's the joke?" he demanded pleasantly. "It seems to be on me, anyway." 1-Ie was standing in the middle of the floor, trying absurdly to inspect his own back, the unembarrassed cynosure of a hundred unfriendly eyes. As his 1 aek was turned to the door he did not see the Sister of Charity when she suddenly appeared at the threshold. She stood there a second, taking everything in at a glance be fore moving swiftly down the room, plucking at her mask as she walked. "Why!" she cried in a voice very different from the frightened gurgle of the little Boston stenographer. "This is outrageous—insufferable!" Voices rang out all over the room, "Why, it's Vespasia!—Miss Belden, upon my soul!" She came to Tommy with eyes shin ing, cheeks flaming scarlet; and be fore them all, knelt down proudly on the polished floor and removed fuin his skirts a picture—that of a good looking young man delightfully da!iy ing with a gherkin. Tommy took it, smiling, and crump led it in his hand, as lie led the way Into the dimly lighted conservatory, leaving behind them a roomful of peo ple, astonished, somewhat crestfallen, and even a bit ashamed. "Thank you for coining to the res cue," Miss Belden," he said, as the voices died behind them, "I was frightened," she confessed, "and indignant. They had meant to unmask in another minute and catch you—with Mrs. Vandervoort at hand to say that you wasn't invited. 1 want you togo now. "Go!" echoed Tommy. "Why, I'm having a perfectly ripping time!" "But," she hinted delicately, "there are other things to be considered than that." "Oh!" he flushed, "I understand. You mean it would embarrass you my being here without a card, and all that. Of course it would—l never thought of that! I'll go this minute." "When you go home," the said at last, gently withdrawing her hand, "you tell your mother from me no, from a little stenographer that you were kind to one night— that you al ready are one." "That I already am ono what?" de manded Tommy. Miss Belden turned away and began slowly unfastening her Sister of Charity robe. "I don't want you togo," she said then, in a curious voice. "I've chang ed my mind. You promised to give me supper, did you not? Put away your absurd black domino. I am go ing to take you In and introduce you to Mrs. Vandervoort." "That would be nice," he said cor dially. "I really owe her an apology, I suppose, for coming here uninvited this way." Oldcourt is a curious community. It runs strongly to fads, to lions. This time, beyond any doubt, it was Tom my Driscoll with his splendid alert ness, his magnificent good looks, hfs gay and wonderful innocence, and, most incredible of all about him, the fact that he so obviously did not want to get into society, who was the suc cess of the season. But while his visit to Oldcourt was prospering, Tommy was not unmind ful of Ills promise to his mother, who was not sharing these pleasant things with him. On the seventh day, at twelve in the morning, his trunks packed and gone, his ticket In his In side pocket, his mission in brief, tri umphantly done, he rose for the sec ond time in the Belden drawing-room to tell its single other occupant good bye. "Good-bye," said Miss Belden and her voice now was curiously reminis cent of the little Sister of Charity. "And now," she went on, "that you have done halfoooff —of what your moth er wanted of you—for even she must i now feel that that part is finished — [ splendidly—l hope with all my heart I that you will prosper as well with— ! the rest of It." "Marrytng a lady?" laughed Tom i my. "Oh, pshaw! I never think of i that, of course! I've always felt that 1 those things come in their own time 1 and way. Haven't you?" "I always used to think that I did," said Miss Belden. "I suppose that I I think so still." He took her hand and gazed down at her from his Great height, and there was affection in his honest eyes—real, I deep, abiding affection —and Miss Bel den saw it and paled. ' "What a brick you are!" he said \ huskily. "And what luck for a chap ; like me to have you for a friend." "Good-bye," said Miss Belden once more. And Tommy was off to catch his train. I On the platform, he glanced at his watch; it was still ten minutes to i train-time. From his pocket he pro duced presently a telegram from 1 llathaway's and read it again with pleasant sensations; the message I saying that his offer for the famous trademark was accepted and that hig [ portrait would adorn the bill-boards. !no more. He woidf never have thought of malting that offer. She had sugested that, had told him how i well worth doing it was. Then suddenly lie was not glad any more, but strangely and t-vribly de pressed, as he had never been before; in the wink of an eye, a ; at a signal, heavy gloom, unaccountable, unrea sonable, settled down upon him. Vast despondency wrapped around his be ing. He sprang up and b: g.in pacing restlessly about. The grizzled bag gage agent eyed with some wonder the resplendent young man who strode so frowningly about the platform, mut tering strange things to hlnibelf. I'res ently Tommy's eye fell upon him, and he drew near, struck by a sudden thought. "Have a cigar, my man?" ho said, striving to speak in an easy conversa tional tone. "Er —what does it mean, do you suppose, when you're leaving a place where you've only i-pent a week, and you feel, by George, ha, ha! as though you were going to d : e?" "Well, sir," said the agent pleasant ly, but privately marveling anew at the odd ways of cottagers, "well, sir, if it was me, I'd say, beggin' your par- . don, sir. as there was a lady in the case." "A lady in the case!" repeated Tom my. "A , . lady . . . in. . . the . . . case!" lie went back to his suit-case, sat down again, and fell to thinking deep ly .. . and as when a lamp is flashed sharply into a dark room, so now light, new and wonderful, sud denly Hooded the hidden corners of his soul. The way of life and Its utmost meaning rolled out before him: a face framed itself marvelously upon the green hillside where his eye was fastened; and Tommy, face to face with the best of all his best things, found himself at the end of his ex plorations at last. In two minutes —for it took 110 long er than that —he sprang up, laughing, and laid hold upon liis suit-case . . and when the train came panting in, the baggage agent wondering more than ever, saw the strange young man who had so restlessly waited for it, start hurriedly away. "Hey, there!" he called good-nat urally. "Here's your train, sir going this minute." "Train! I don't want a train!" tried Tommy over his shoulder never checking his swift pace, for it seemed to him that there was not another second to lose —"1 want- the best thing going!" AVIATOR FALLS 150 FEET Escapes With a Fe-.v Bruises, But Ma chine Is Wrecked. Ilenry Moore, of Union Hill, N. J., Hying in a Curtiss biplane at Hemp stead, N. Y., fell over 150 feet., and his only injuries wore a few scratches and bruises, his machine being a total wreck. Moore had climbed a cross-conn'ry flight and was between 150 and 200 feet in the air, when his motor sud denly stopped, lie fell like a shot to the ground, landing in a cabbage field. Woman's Throat Cut. When John Stevenson was awaken ed in his home, Webster, PaT, and went downstairs to ascertain the reason ho fell over the body of his stepdaughter, Mrs. Susan Wentz, aged twenty-eight, which was lying across the foot of the stairs with her throat cut. A door leading to the outside stood ajar, but there was no trace of the slayer. Stevenson said that Mrs. Wentz was all right when he and his wife re tired, but the couple is being held Dendinsr an investigation. Quite the Contrary. "But his table manners are poor,"' ob served the old fashioned mother. "Poor! Why, mamma!" exclaims the dashing daughter. "He took tnc to lunch with him at the St. Gorgeous and ordered nothing but the most ex pensive things on the menu!"— Judge. Taft to Attend Blue and Gray Reunion President Taft tentatively accepted an invitationt to a reunion of the Union and Confederate veterans at Manassas, July 21, the fiftieth anni versary of the first battle of Hull Run. r+T4,..*T*T^..+T+..+T+^^^ .• .^«.7^V^V^V^V^V*V^ - - - - - - - - §5 Dependable |1 8 Gooc/s. 1 >:♦;. >k< We handle goods that are cheap. hut not cheap goods. We want our goods to become y <$ -< y° ur goods aml our Bto,v * yom storo * ** * s 8 Clothing, or |§ b>.)Ai..w | y- ••*< te; Shoes or || ■ Anything || r,A,'rv, to furnish man, woman or child up in classy, attractive and dapendahle attire, then we have just the articles you need. Give us a call now. jf| MAX NIAMOLEN, LAPORTE. ||j Rev. Grant Guilty of Heresy. Rev. Dr. William D. Grant, of Nor thumberland, Pa., who was tried on heresy charges before the permanent judicial commission of the 123 d gen eral assembly of the Presbyterian church, in session at Atlantic City, N. J., was found to have "taught doctrines contrary to the word of God as con tained in the Bible and the Presby terian Confession of Faith," by the re port of the commission, presented to the assembly. The commission held that Dr. Grant was guilty of an offense, under the rules of the Presbyterian Book of Dis cipline and recommended that he bo suspended from exercising the func tions of a minister until such time as he could "convince his own presby tery, that of Northumberland, that he has renounced the errors he has been found to hold and to satisfy th" presbytery of his purpose to no longer teach them." A motion to adopt the report and confirm the judgment of the commis sion was put to a vote without de hate. It was carried overwhelmingly, only a few scattered "noes" coming from widely separated sections of the assembly hall on the steel pier. Woman and Son Lynched. News was received in Muskogee, Okla., of the lynching of Mrs. Mary Nelson, colored, and her eighteen year-old son at Okemah, Okla. An armed mob battered down tho door of the county jail, bound and gagged Jailer Lawrence Payne, took the two negroes to the Canadian river, six miles away, and hung them to a bridge. The affair was kept very quiet and citizens of the towr* didn't know what, had occurred unu- a farmer drove to town .and -epr.rted the two bodies banging to the bridge timbers. At the jail Payne was found bound and gagged. Two weeks ago Deputy Sheriff George 11. Loney was shot and in stantly killed while searching the Nelson house for some stolen goods. The woman and her son were arrested and confessed that they had deliber ately laid a plot to kill Loney. Murdered and Robbed. In a little fringe of woods on the edge of Paradise creek, near Nor folk, Va., a murder was revealed when a party of searchers out scouring the country in quest of J. L. Benton, a merchant, who had been missing from his home on Deep Creek shell road since last Friday, found him with j a gaping wound in his face. I Robbery was undoubtedly the ruling ' motive of the crime and a shotgun was ! the weapor. Industrious and possessed of a largo j famil yto care lor, Mr. Benton had ac cumulated considerable mo .ey, whi. h he carried about with him wherever he went. He had in his pockets when he left his home on Friday morning nearly S9OO. When his pockets were searched the money was gone. Mrs. Emerson Wins Divorce. A decree of divorce has been s'gn ed for Mrs. Isaac E. Emerson in her action against Captain Emerson, the millionaire drug manufacturer in Bal timore. Captain Emerson first insti , tuted action against his wife, making ; statutory charges, and this was fol lowed by a cross bill. A second bill ; was later filed by Mrs. Emerson ask j ing for a divorce on the ground of de [ sertion, and the decree was signed on this action. Mrs. Emerson was award | ed alimony to the amount of $28,800 annually and the family home in Eu- I taw Place. Fined S6OO For Killing a Man. J. Walter Shields, a former Phila delphian, was convieied of manslaugh ter in tho second degree in the su perior court in Plymouth, N. 11., and was sentenced to pay a line of SOOO and the costs of the prosecution. The money was immediately forth coming, and within a short time Mr. Shields walked out of the court, a free man. He left the courtroom with his brothers-in-law, who have been his | constant companions throughout the 1 trial. Shields was placed on trial before Judge Pike on c charge of manslaugh- I tor for the killing of "Christie" Ken ney, a woodsman.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers