(Concluded from last week.)
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—-Introductory. Pat O’Brien
tells of his purpose in writing the story
of his adventures.
CHAPTER II—Tells of his enlistment in
the Royal Flying corps, his training in
Canada and his transfer to France for ac-
tive duty.
CHAPTER III—-Describes fights in which
he brought down two German airplanes
and his final fight in which he was
brought down wounded within the Ger-
man lines and was made a prisoner of
war.
CHAPTER IV—Discovers that German
hospital staff barbarously neglected the
fatally wounded and devoted their ener
gies to restoring those who might be
returned to the firing lines. Witnesses
death in fight of his best chum, Lieut.
Paul Rainey.
CHAPTER V—He is taken to the of-
cers’ prison camp at Courtrai. There he
egan planning his escape. By great sac-
rifice he manages to save and hide away
two daily rations of bread.
CHAPTER VI—He confiscates a map of
Germany and just half an hour later is
pet on a train bound for a prison camp
Germany. He leaps through a window
while the train is traveling at a rate of 3)
miles an hour.
CHAPTER VII—-For nine days he
crawls through Germany, hiding during
the day, traveling at night, guided by ths
ars and subsisting on raw vegetables
He covers 75 miles before reaching Lux-
emburg.
CHAPTER VIII—For nine days more he
struggles on in a weakened condition
through Luxemburg in the direction of
Belgium.
CHAPTER IX—He endures terrible
hardships, swims rivers while delirious
from hunger, living like a hunted animal
and on the eighteenth day after jumping
from the train he crosses into Belgium.
CHAPTER X—When well on his way
through Belgium he is befriended one
night by a Flemish peasant, who feeds
him and directs him to a man in a Bel-
glen city who will help him to get a pass-
port.
CHAPTER XI—By mingling with Bel-
gian peasants he manages to elude Ger-
man soldiers and reaches the Belgian city
where he finds the home of the man from
whom he expects help.
CHAPTER XII—Huyliger forges a pass-
port for O’Brien and promises to assist
im in getting into Holland. Later Huy-
liger and his associates demand an ex-
orbitant sum for their services and
O'Brien breaks with them.
In brief, the scheme was to conceal
me in a convent until conditions were
ripe for me to make my way to the |
border. In the meanwhile I was to be |
dressed in the garb of a priest, and
when the time came for me to leave
the city I was to pretend that I was a
Spanish sailor, because I could speak a
little Spanish, which I had picked
2 o> .
up on the coast. To attempt to play
the part of a Belgian would become in- |
creasingly difficult, he pointed out, and
would bring inevitable disaster in the
event that I was called upon to speak.
Huyliger said I would be given suf-
ficient money to bribe the German
guards at the Dutch frontier, and he
assured me that everything would work
out according to schedule.
“Yours is not the first case, O’Brien,
we have handled successfully,” he de-
clared. “Only three weeks ago I heard
Outlining the Plans He Had Made for
. My Escape.
from an English merchant who had
escaped from a German detention camp
and came to me for assistance and
whom I had been able to get through
the lines. His message telling me of
his safe arrival in Rotterdam came to
me in an indirect way, of course, but
the fact that the plans we had made
carried through without mishap makes
me feel that we ought to be able to do
as much for you.”
1 told Huyliger I was ready to follow
his instructions and would do any-
thing he suggested.
«] want to rejoin my squadron as
soon as I possibly can,” I told him,
“put I realize that it will take a cer-
in length of time for you to make the
necessary arrangements, and I will be
as patient as I can.”
The first thing to do, Huyliger told
me, was to prepare a passport. He had
a blank one and it was a comparatively
simple matter to fill in the spaces, us
ing a genuine passport which Huyliger
possessed as a sample of the hand-
writing of the passport clerk. My oc-
cupation was entered as that of a
sailor. My birthplace we gave as
Spain, and we put my age at thirty.
As a matter of fact, at that time I
could easily have passed for thirty- |
five, but we figured that with proper ;
food and a decent place to sleep at |!
night, I could soon regain my normal |
appearance, and the passport would !
have to serve me, perhaps, for several |
weeks to come. :
Filling in the blank spaces on the
passport was, as I have said, a com-
paratively easy matter, but that did
not begin to fill the bill. Every genu-
ine passport bore an official rubber
stamp, something like an elaborate
postmark, and I was at a loss to know
how to get over that difficulty.
Fortunately, however, Huyliger had
half of a rubber stamp which had evi- |
dently been thrown away by the Ger-
|
mans, and he planned to construct the |
other half out of the cork from a wine |
bottle, He was very skillful with a |
penknife, and although he spoilt a
score or more of corks before he suc-
ceeded in getting anything life the |
result he was after, the finished article
was far better than our most sanguine
expectations. Indeed, after we had
pared it over here and there, and re-
moved whatever imperfections our re-
peated test disclosed, we had a stamp
which made an impression so closely
resembling the original that without a |
magnifying glass, we were sure, it |
would have been impossible to tell
that it was a countevfeit.
Huyliger procured a camera and
took a photograph of me to paste on
the passport in the place provided for
that purpose, and we then had a pass-
port which was entirely satisfactory |
to both of us and would, we hoped,
prove equally so to our friends the |
Huns. i
It had taken two days to fix up the |
passport. In the meanwhile Huyliger
informed me that he had changed his
plans about the convent and that in-
stead he would take me to an empty
house, where I could remain in safety
until he told me it was advisable for
me to proceed to the frontier.
This was quite agreeable to me, as 1
had had misgivings as to the kind
of a priest I would make and it seemed
to me to be safer to remain aloof from
everyone in a deserted house than to
have to mingle with people or come ih
contact with them, even with the best,
of diszuises, :
Thar night I accompanied Huyliger
to a fashionable section of the city,
where the house in which I was to be!
concealed was located.
This house turned out to be a four-
story structure of brick. Huyliger toid,
me that it had been occupied by al
wealthy Belgian before the war, but
since 1914 it had been uninhabited save
for the occasional habitation of some
refugee whom Huyliger was befriend-
ing.
Huyliger had a key and let me in,
but he did not enter the house with
me, stating that he would visit me in
the morning.
I explored the place from top to bot-
tom as well as I could without lights.
The heuse was elaborately furnished,
but, of course, the dust lay a quarter
of an inch thick everywhere. It was a
large house, containing some twenty
rooms. There were two rooms in the
basement four on the first floor, four
on the second five on the third and five
on the top. In the days that were to
come I was to have plenty of oppor-
tunity to familiarize myself with the
contents of that house but at that time
I did not know it and I was curious
enough to want to know just what the
house contained.
Down in the basement there was a
huge pantry but it was absolutely bare,
except of dust and dirt. A door which
evidently led to a sub-basement at-
tracted my attention and I thought it
might be a good idea to know just
where it led to in case it became neces-
sary for me to elude searchers.
In that cellar I found case after case
of choice wine—Huyliger subsequently
told me that there were 1,800 bottles of
it! I was so happy at the turn my
affairs had taken and in the rosy pros-
pects which I now entertained. that I
was half inclined to indulge in a little
celebration then and there. On second
thought, however, I remembered the
old warning of the folly of shouting
before you are well out of the woods,
and I decided that it would be just as
well to postpone the festivities for a
while and go to bed instead. .
In such an elaborately furnished
house I had naturally conjured up;
ideas of a wonderfully large bed,
'
|
|
! of wool, silk or cotton fabrics.
i is how far you are prepared to go to |
i compensate me for the risks I am |
i shown me.
! of way; “you may take care of me |
.
|
with thick hair mattress, downy |
quilts and big soft pillows. Indeed, I!
debated for a while which particular |
bedroom I should honor with my pres- |
ence that night. Judge of my disap!
pointment, therefore, when after vis-
iting bedroom after bedroom, I discov-
ered that there wasn’t a bed in any
one of them that was in a condition to |
sleep in. All the mattresses had been |
removed and the rooms were abso- |
lutely bare of everything in the way |
The |
Germans had apparently swept the
house clean.
There was nothing to do, therefore,
but to make myself as comfortable as
I could on the floor, but as I had grown
accustomed by this time to sleeping !
under far less comfortable conditions,
I swallowed my disappointment as
cheerfully as I could and lay down
for the night.
In the morning Huyliger appeared
and brought me some breakfast, and
after I had eaten it he asked me what ,
connections I had in France or Eng-
land from whom I could obtain |
money.
I told him that I banked at Cox &
Co., London, and that, if he needed !
any money I would do anything I could
to get it for him, although I did not '
know just how such things could be ar-
ranged. i
“Don’t worry about that, O'Brien,”
he replied. “We'll find a way of get-!
ting it all right. What I want to know
rendering you!” i
The change in the man’s attitude
stunned me. I could hardly believe my |
ears. i
“Of course I shall pay you as well as |
I can for what you have done, Huyli-
ger,” I replied, trying to conceal as far
as possible the disappointment his de-
mand had occasioned me, “but don’t
you think that this is hardly the proper |
time or occasion to talk of compensa-
tion? All I have on me, as you know,
is a few hundred francs, and that, of
course, you are welcome to, and when |
I get back, if I ever do, I shall not |
easily forget that kindness you have, |
I am sure you need have |!
no concern about my showing my. |
gratitude in a substantial way.” ‘
“That’s all right, O’Brien,” he in- |
gisted, looking at me in a knowing sort! |
afterwards, and then again you may!
not. I'm not satisfied to wait. I want'|
to be taken care of now!” i:
“Well, what do you want me.to do? |
How much do you expect in the way: |
of compensation? How can I arrange: !
to get it to you? I am willing to do; |
anything that is reasonable.” |
“I want —— pounds,” he replied.
and he named a figure that staggered; i
me. If I had been Lord Kitchener in-
stead of just an ordinary lieutenant; .
in the R. F. C., he would hardly have: |
asked a larger sum.
thought I was. il
“Well, my dear man,” I said smilig-; |
|
1
i
Perhaps he; i
ly, thinking that perhaps he was Jok-; |
ing, “you don’t really mean that, do;
you?” ‘
“I certainly do, O'Brien, and what is, !
more,” he threatened, “I intend to get! |
every cent I have asked, and you sel
going to help me get it.” y
He pulled out an order calling for
the payment te him of the amount he!
had mentioned and demanded that I |
| sign it. i!
1 waved it aside. i
“Huyliger,” I said, “you have helped
me out so far and perhaps you have],
the power to help me further, I appre-|:
ciate what you have done for me, al-{
though now, I think, I see what your!
motive was, but I certainly don”: in-'!
tend to be blackmailed and I tell you |
‘right now that I won’t stand for it.”
“Very well,” he said, “it is just as
you say, but before you make up your
mind so obstinately I would advise |
you to think it over. I'll be back this |
‘evening.”
My first impulse, after the man had
left, was to get out of that house just!
as soon as I could. I had the passport
he had prepared for me, and I figured
that even without further help I could
now get to the border without very
much difficulty, and when I got there
I would have to use my own ingenuity
to get through.
It was evident, however, that Huy-
liger still had an idea that I might,
change my mind with regard to the
payment he had demanded, and I de-
cided that it would be foolish to do
anything until he paid me a second
visit.
At the beginning of my dealings with
‘Huyliger I had turned over to him
some pictures, papers, and other things
that I had on me when I entered his
house, including my identification disk,
and I was rather afraid that he might
refuse to return them to me.
All day long I remained in the house
without a particle of food other than
the breakfast Huyliger had brought to
me. From the windows I could see
plenty to interest me and help pass the
time away, but of my experiences
while in that house I shall tell in de-
tail later on, confining my attention
now to a narrative of my dealing with
Huyliger.
That night he appeared as he had
promised.
“Well, O'Brien,” he asked, as he en-
tered the room where I was awaiting
him, “what do you say? Will you sign
the order or not?’
~ It had occurred to me during the
day that the aniount demanded was so
fablulous that I might have signed the
order without any danger of its ever
‘being paid, but the idea of this man,
who had claimed to be befriending me,
endeavoring to make capital out of my
plight galled me so that I was deter-
mined not to give it to him whether I
‘could do so in safety or not.
~ “No, Huyliger,” I replied, “I have
decided to get along as best I can with-
‘out any further assistance from you.
I shall see that veu are reasonablv
| ago!”
. papers at once,” I replied hotly, “I will
do, O'Brien,” he declared coolly, “but
. pictures you refer to are out of the
| papers and I want them here before
| the passport that you fixed for me,
everything.” :
| near a landing at the time and the
| moonlight was streaming through a
| confront me before the German au-
! thorities.
eo}
paid for what you have done, but I |
' will not accept any further assistance
from you at any price, and what is
more I want you to return to me at
once all the photographs and other |
| papers and belongings of mine whicl
I turned over to you a day or two
“I'm sorry about that, O’Brien,” he |
reterted, with a show of apparent sin-
cerity, “but that is something I cannot
céo.”
“If you don’t give me back those
take steps to get them, and d—d
quick too!”
“I don’t know just what you could
as a matter of fact the papers and
country. I could not get them back
to you if I wanted to.” ;
Something told me the man was
lying.
“See here, Huyliger!™® I threatened,
advancing towards him, putting my |
hand on his shoulder and looking him |
straight in the eye, “I want those
midnight to-night. If I don’t get them
I shall sleep in this place just once
more and then, at 8 o'clock to-morrow |
morning, I shall go to the German au
“Your Lives Won't Be Worth a Damn.”
thorities, give myself up, show them
tell them how I got it, and expidin
Huyliger paled. We had no lights
in the house, but we were standing
stained-glass window.
The Belgian turned on his heel and
started to go down the stairs.
“Mind you,” I called after him, “I
shall wait for you till the city clock
strikes twelve, and if you don’t show
up with those papers by that time, the
next time you will see me is when you
I am a desperate man, Huy-
liger, and I mean every word I say.”
He let himself out of the door and I
sat on the top stair and wondered just
what he would do. Would he try to
steal a march on me and get in a first
word to the authorities so that my
story would be discredited when I
put it to them?
Of course, my threat to give myself
up to the Huns was a pure bluff. While
I had no desire to lose the papers
which Huyliger had and which in-
cluded the map and the last resting
‘place of my poor chum Raney, I cer-
tainly had no intention of cutting off
my nose to spite my face by surren-
dering to the Germans. I would have
been shot, as sure as fate, for after all
I had been able to observe behind the
German lines I would be regarded as
a spy and treated as such.
At the same time I thought I de-
tected a yellow streak in Huyliger, and
I figured that he would not want to
take the risk of my carrying out my
threat even though he believed there
was but a small chance of my dog so.
If I did, he would undoubtedly share
my fate, and the pictures and papers
he had of mine were really of ng use
to him, and I have never been able to
ascertain why it was he wished to re-
tain them unless they contained some-
thing—some information about me—
which accounted for his complete
change of attitude towards me in the
first place, and he wanted the papers
as evidence to account to his supe-
riors for his conduct towards me.
When he first told me that the plan
of placing me in a convent ‘disguised
as a priest hadybeen abandoned he ex-
plained it by saying that the cardinal
had issued orders to the priests to
help no more fugitives, and I have
since wondered” whether there was
anything in my papers which had
turned him against me and led him to
forsake me after all he had promised
to do for me.
For perhaps two hours I sat on that
staircase musing about the peculiar
turn in my affairs, when the front door
opened and Huyliger ascended the
stairs.
“I have brought you such of your be-
longings as I still had, O/Brien,” he
sald softly. “The rest, as I told you, I
cannot give you. They are no longer
in my possession.”
I looked through the little bunch he
handed me. It included my identifi-
cation disk, most of the papers I val-
ued, and perhaps half of the photo-
graphs.
“I don’t know what your object is in
retaining the rest of my pictures, Huy-
liger,” I replied, “but cs a matter of
fact, the ones that are missing were
only of sentimental value to me and
you are welcome to them. We'll call j*
a beat.”
I don’t know whether he understood
the idiom, but he sat down on the
stairs just below me and cogitated for
a few moments.
“O’Brien,” he started finally, “I'm
sorry things have gone the way they
have. I feel sorry for you and I would
really like to help you. I don’t sup-
pose you will believe me, but the
matter of the order which which I
asked you to sign was not of my doing.
However, we won't go into that. The
proposition was made to you and you
turned it down, and that’s the end of
it. At the same time, I hate to leave
you to your own resources and I am
going to make one more suggestion
to you for your own good. I have an-
other plan to get you into Holland
and if you will go with me to another
house, I “will introduce you to a man
who I think will be in a position to
help you.”
“How many millions of pounds will
he want for his trouble ” I answered,
sarcastically.
“You can arrange that when you see
him. Will you go?”
I suspected there was something
fishy about the proposition, but I felt
that I could take care of myself and
decided to see the thing through. I
knew Huyliger would not dare to de-
liver me to the authorities because of
the fact that I had the tell-tale pass-
port, which would be his deathknell as
well as my own.
Accordingly I said I would be quite
willing to go with him whenever he
was ready, and he suggested that we
go the next evening.
I pointed out to him that I was en-
tirely without food and asked him
whether he could not arrange to bring
or send me something to eat while I
remained in the house.
“I'm sorry, O'Brien,” he replied, “but
I'm afraid you will have to get along
as best you can. When I brought you
your breakfast this morning I took
a desperate chance. If I had been dis-
covered by one of the German soldiers
entering this house with food in my
possession, I would not only have paid
the penalty myself, but you would have
been discovered, too. It is too danger-
ous a proposition. Why don’t you go
out by yourself and buy your food at
the stores? That would give you con-
fidence and you'll need plenty of it
when you continue your journey to the
border.”
There was a good deal of truth in
what he said and I really could not
blame him for not wanting to take any
chances to help me in view of the rela-
tions between us.
“Very well,” I said; “I've gone with-
out food for many hours at a time be-
fore and I suppose I shall be able to
do so again. I shall look for you to-
morrow evening.”
The next evening he came and I ac-
companied him to another house not
very far from the one in which I had
been staying and not unlike it in ap-
pearance. It, too, was a substantial
dwelling house which had been unten-
anted since the beginning save perhaps
for such occasional visits as Huyliger
and his associates made to it.
Huyliger let himself in and con-
ducted me to a room on the second
floor, where he intreduced me to two
men. One, I could readily see by the
resemblance, was his own brother.
The other was a stranger.
Very briefly they explained to me
that they had procured another pass-
port for me—a genuine one—which
would prove far more effective in help-
ing to get me to the frontier than the
counterfeit one they had manufac-
tured for me.
I think I saw through their game
right at the start, but I listened pa-
tiently to what they had to say.
“Of course, you will have to return
to us the passport we gave you before
we can give you the real one,” said
Huyliger’s brother.
“I haven't the slightest objection,” I
replied, “if the new passport is all you
claim for it. Will you let me see it?”
There was considerable hesitation on
the part of Huyliger’s brother and the
other chap at this.
“Why, I don’t think that’s necessary
at all, Mr. O'Brien,” said the former.
“You give us the old passport and we
will be very glad to give you the new
one for it. Isn’t that fair enough?”
“It may be fair enough, my friends,”
I retorted, seeing that it was useless to
conceal further the fact that I was
fully aware of their whole plan and
why I had been brought to this house.
“It may be fair enough,amy friends,” I
said, “but you will get the passport
that I have here,” patting my side and
indicating my inside breast pocket,
“only off my dead body!”
I suppose the three of them could
have made short work of me then and
there if they had wanted to go the
limit, and no one would ever have
been the wiser, but I had gone through
so much and I was feeling so mean to-
wards the whole world just at that
moment that I was determined to sell
my life as dearly as possible.
“I have that passport here,” I re-
plied, “and am going to keep it. If
you gentlemen think you can take it
from me you are welcome to try!”
Continued next week) .
A Thought.
“Just to think,” said the Sweet
Young Thing on the piano stool, “all
these pretty keys once belonged to an
elephant.”
“And now,”
man, th
Times-
replied the gallant
belong to a dear.”—Florida
nion.
——For high class Job Work come
to the “Watchman” Office.
The Story of the Battle Hymn.
The following is from the volume
entitled “Julia Ward Howe,” by Lau-
Ie F. Richards and Maude Howe El-
iot:
“Returning from a review of troops
near Washington, her carriage was
surrounded and delayed by the march-
ing regiments; she and her compan-
ions sang, to beguile the tedium of the
way, the war songs which everybody
was singing in those days. . . .
The soldiers liked this, cried “Good
for you!” and took up the chours
with its rythmic swing. ‘Mrs. Howe,’
said. Mr. Clarke, ‘Why do you not
write some good words for the stir-
ring tune?’ ‘I have often wished to
do so!” she replied. Walking in the
gray of the next morning, as she lay
waiting for the dawn, the words came
to her. ‘Mine eyes have seen the glo-
ry of the coming of the Lord—’ She
lay perfectly still. Line by line, stan-
za by stanza, the words came sweep-
ing on with the rhythm of marching
feet, pauseless, resistless. She saw
the long lines swinging into place be-
fore her eyes, heard the nation speak-
ing through her lips. She waited till
the voice was sileat, till the last line
was ended; then sprang from bed,
and, groping for pen and paper,
scrawled in the gray twilight the
'Battle Hymn of the Republic.” She
was used to writing thus; verses oft-
en came to her at night, and must be
scribbled in the dark for fear of wak-
ing the baby; she crept back to bed,
and as she fell asleep she said to her-
self, ‘I like this better than most
things I have written.” In the morn-
ing, while recalling the incident, she
found that she had forgotten the
words.
“The poem was published in the
Atlantic Monthly, for February, 1862.
‘It was somewhat praised,’ she says,
‘on its appearance, but the vicissi-
tudes of the war so engrossed public
attention that small heed was taken
of literary matters. . . I knew
and was content to know, that the po-
em soon found its way to the camps,
as I heard from time to time of its
being sung in chorus by the soldiers.’
“She did not, however, realize how
rapidly the hymn made its way, nor
how strong a hold it took upon the
people. It was sung, chanted, recited,
and used in exhortation and prayer
on the eve of battle. It was printed
in newspapers, army-books, on broad-
sides; it was the word of the hour,
and the Union armies marched to its
swing.”
On a memorable occasion directly
after the battle of Gettysburg, the
author says:
“When, some time after, McCabe
was released from prison, he told in
Washington before a great audience
of loyal people, the story of his war-
time experiences; and when he came
to that night in Libby Prison, he sang
the ‘Battle Hymn’ once more. The
effect was magical; people shouted,
wept, sang, all together; and when
the song was ended, above the tumult
of applause was heard the voice of
Abraham Lincoln, exclaiming, while
the tears rolled down his cheeks,—
‘Sing it again’!”—Ex.
War Vultures Again.
The law passed to protect the de-
pendents of dead soldiers from war
vultures, it seems, says the Indianap-
olis News, is being evaded. Immedi-
ately after publication of casualty
lists bereaved relatives are receiving
letters from attorneys, or men so rep-
resenting themselves, offering not to
act on the collection of war risk mon-
ey, which is forbidden by law, but to
help collect refunds on unpaid Liber-
ty loan pledges or to help otherwise
in settling the soldier's affairs. A
substantial fee, of course, usually 20
or 25 per cent. of the amount ccllect-
ed, is asked for the service. The gov-
ernment will settle all of the soldier’s
affairs in his relation with it and
charges nothing for the service. Not
a cent need be paid to anybody for
acting in this connection.
The United States government is
not a debtor that must be coaxed or
coerced into discharging its obliga-
tion to the soldiers that have given
their lives for their country. At-
‘| tempts to wring fees from the de-
pendents of dead soldiers for any
“service” are generally fraudulent.
The man who approaches women in
an hour of bereavement with an offer
of help for which he is to get a sub-
stantial return is an object of suspi-
cion at the best. When he proposes
to help in getting money from the
government he can be put down defi-
nitely as a fraud of the lowest type.
He knows that he cannot perform any
useful service, that whatever he takes
from the dependents of soldiers is
blood money.
The government warns relatives to
have nothing to do with the sharpers.
It should do more and make it illegal
for the vultures to solicit fees for act-
ing in any capacity in settling the af-
fairs of the soldier with the govern-
ment. The present law is inadequate
in that it forbids acting for depend-
ents to obtain war risk insurance or
compensation money, but says noth-
ing about back pay on Liberty bond
refunds. The penalty should bc
made severe enough to fit the crime.
Fainting Goats.
Did you ever see a goat faint?
Probably not. But the thing does
happen—not, perhaps, to the every-
day goat, but to animals of that breed
which are found in Tennessee.
Oddly enough, in that State the
“fainting goats,” as they are called,
seem to be restricted to one small le-
cality. In other respects they are
just like ordtary goats, but on slight
provocation they will “throw a fit.”
If suddenly approached or other-
wise startled they fall to the ground.
Apparently the trouble with them is
not heart-weakness, but a peculiar
nervous complaint. Any sort of
alarm gets their goat, so to speak.
Experienced Matriculator.
“I suppose young Jack Grabcoin
has a deep and abiding love for his
alma mater.”
“Naturally, but Jack’s affections
are considerably scattered.”
“How's that?”
“He’s been expelled from so many
different institutions of learning that
it’s rather difficult for him to concen-
trate his affections on any particular
one.”—Birmingham Age-Herald.
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