1 IN lINSENT LETTER 1
fi if
gj By SUSAN E. CLAGETT. |[J
< Jim Chapman started as the front
door slammed, then he muttered In ex<
asperation:
"To think I should have come to
this from a little touch of fever!
Nerves! I thought I had no nerves."
As a matter of fact, It had been a
severe attack of typhoid, with so lln-
Bering a convalescence that his physi
cian ordered him to return to the
empty old house in New England that
liad been his boyhood home, if he
wished to regain his strength.
To ,the last he had protested, but
•without avail, and now he had been in
toe New England village for a week,
literally confined to the house, as he
.had broken his ankle upon his own
doorstep.
• Seated In his sitting room he looked
helplessly around as doors and window
.blinds banged.
"Where in the devil is William?
That fellow Is never where he's want
ed. Ill—"
"Will I answer?" a pleasant voice
asked, and without waiting for a reply
m blue-gowned figure crossed the room,
tiastily secured the blinds and closed
the windows.
"I saw William ahead of me as I
"was blown through your front door.
He had something in his arms that was
giving him trouble. Here he is. Good
gracious I"
Jim turned his head as his man
came Into the room carrying a kicking,
aqiilrmlng bundle, which he put hastily
down.
"Sure, Mr. Jim, I hopes you'll never
send me again for such a little tiger
cat,"
"I ain't no tiger cat," came with a,
suppressed sob from the small being
<m the hearth rug.
Jim looked at the child with curi
ous resentment, but Miss Hill, who'
had been listening In undisguised
amazement, came forward. "Of coursei
not, dear. Jim and William were Just!
trying to be funny." As she talked;
«he had removed the child's wrapsj
and now lifted her to her lap.
"Oh! I want my daddy. I want,
tny daddy! ,He didn't call me 'tiger,
cat*" and the child burrowed her head
In the lace at Miss Hill's throat.
The two grown-ups looked at each'
other In silence as she sobbed herself
Into a heavy sleep. Then only did'
Kate Hill speak.
"What Is it all about, Jim?"
He silently handed her a letter andi
she read:
"Dear Jim: When this reaches you
I will have passed Into the unknown!
country. Because of the closeness of
©nr friendship I am sending you the
delight of my heart Her mother lSi
dead, and she has not a relative In the :
world. I leave a little property that
Is well invested, sufficient for her
needs. Am too tired now to write
more. Yours, TOM."
"Poor little walf!" she said softly,
*1 would take her home with me, but.
I am going away this afternoon. I !
can help you, however. My housekeep
er's sister has lost her child. She
needs a home and will suit you. I
will send her over."
"Thank you. Did you say you are*
going away? The thought that I 1
should find you when this confounded
ankle lets me get about has been the
one comfort I have had throughout
this lonely week. We used to have,
some pleasant days together, and I
hoped we might return to them. I
will be your neighbor for many months,;
and the sooner we forget the years
that lie between now and then the
better."
"We will talk about it when I come
back," she replied evasively.
She stood beside him for an Instant
laughing down Into his gloomy face.
Terhaps, Jim, I may not stay as long
as I had Intended," she said, and with
these words she left the room.
To his surprise she returned within
ten days; returned in a storm that
broke in torrents of rain as she neared
Jim Chapman's gate. As on that first
day, she ran up the walk and Into the
bouse. Looking Into the sitting room,
she saw Jim move slowly toward the
window. On the floor the child was
gathering up stray leaves of what
looked like a manuscript, and In her
lap was a bundle of letters. Kate
turned to Jim with a smll6:
"It is to be hoped Mrs. Grundy has
been driven to the back of her house
by the storm, else my reputation may
suffer. To be blown twice within a
fortnight through your doorway, Jim,
Is certainly food for gossip."
"I want the pretty lady to read to
me," a small voice Interrupted. "Read
this," she said persuasively, holding
out a letter.
Kate picked the child up and took
the letter from her. "Why, this is ad
dressed to me," she exclaimed.
Jim gave a start and glanced toward
the drawer of his library table. He
turned to Kate In explanation.
"That letter was written years ago,
and I have often wondered why I re
ceived no reply. Why it was not
mailed I do not know, but chance has
thrown it into your hands. Read it,
and give me the answer to the ques-
I then asked." He turned to the
window, looking with unseeing eyes
out Into the storm.
She was silent so long that he at
last turned to her.
Holding the child close, she looked
at him with shining eyes. "I have been
wishing I had received the letter when
It was written, for we have lost five
years of happiness."
{Copyright, 1317, by the McClure Newspa
per Syndicate.)
1 ACROSS THE STREETI!
jj
By ISABEL FROST. ||j
"One of the joys of living in a city
Is not knowing or caring who your next
door neighbor is, and equal IndifTerenc*
on his or her side."
Jean poured tea with her customary
air of absorbed nonchalance.
"Now, where I came from everyone
knows all about you. It's simply ter
rible. You never feel grown up. I'm
nineteen and nobody called me Misa
Ashton, not a single person. They just
said Bab, or that Ashton girl. And be
cause I wanted to break away by my
self and do something in the world they
•—well, they didn't approve."
Hartley eyed her curiously from his
place on the high window seat. What
a queer, self-sufficient little wanderer
she was. It was quite as If a very
young, adventurous kitten had started
off to see the world by itself. It was
mighty nice of Jean to get her under
her wing, he thought. Jean was al
ways doing that sort of thing, opening
the doors of her Ninth street studio
iWlde to all heart wayfarers who need
ed cheering up. He could not measure
up all that her faith and comradeship
ihad meant to him during his own up
hill fight in New York. Perhaps the
only thing about Jean he did not like
was that she herself never seemed to
need help from anyone. He would have
loved to know she needed him; that his
presence and companionship were a
strength to her; that she even missed
him when he failed to show up for a
few days. As It was, she merely gave
him the usual smile and happy greet
ing, and went on with her work.
It was a week later when he got the
tickets to Savelll's muslcale. There was
a splendid 'cellist and a good soloist,
a young soprano who sank folk songs.
He thought Jean might like to go. But
instead she told him over the 'phone
that she was too busy, and asked if he
would mind taking Bab. The kiddle
was lonely and rather at sea. said
Jean.
'
That was the beginning, and he went
on sullenly at first, then Indignantly,
believing It was all Jean's fault. Bab
enjoyed going around with him to the
'exhibitions and little studio teas im
mensely. She was pretty and exuber
ant, tantalizing and whimsical.
One day she came up to Jean's studio
rather white and discouraged.
"You know I'm not earning anything
at all, not a cent," she said suddenly.
"It's funny how little one can live on
ihere, Isn't It? I hate spaghetti and
cereals. Mother was the most wonder
ful cook you ever saw. I don't see
how people starve In garrets and paint
'or write masterpieces."
Jean did not take her seriously. It
was so usual to say you are not mak
ing money, and only meant you were
not earning the hundreds you had
hoped to.
The morning of the fourth day a
phone call came from Miss Mllligan,
the landlady across the street.
"You're little Miss Ashton's friend,
aren't you? Well, she's pretty sick,
and if something isn't done the doctor
says she's got to go to a hospital right
away. It's pneumonia, he says, and she
hasn't been eating regular."
Jean stood in the middle of the floor,
thinking quickly. Then in five minutes
she had called up a good nurse, her
own doctor, and had made arrange*
ments for bringing Bab over to her
own cozy suite of rooms. When Hart
ley came down at noon she met him at
the door with her finger to her lips.
He listened in silent wonder as she
told him what she had done.
"But your work—"
"Never mind my work. We've got
to feed her up qnd put her on her feet
again. Go and send a telegram to her
mother for me. Answer that phone,
will you, while I write this?"
Hartley obeyed, and turned from it
to her with a curious smile.
"There's somebody downstairs from
Haines Falls," he said. "He wants to
know If you know where Miss Ashton
Is. Isn't she from Haines Falls?'
Til see him." Jean went down the
winding staircase quickly, and met the
tall, anxious-faced youngster waiting
there.
"I got a letter from Bab —from Miss
Ashton —last night," he said brokenly.
"We were engaged, you know, and she
broke It, but she wrote me she was on
the last lap, and she didn't care what
happened she was so hungry and sick.
So I came at once to take her home. I
wondered If you'd fix It so we could be
married first"
Half an hour later Jean left the two
together In the darkened room, Bab,
her eyes bright with fever, but con
scious and holding fast to the big boy's
! hand. Hartley sat i,n the studio on
the window seat waiting for her. She
went to him; her eyes rather tired
now ttpt the nerve-strain was over.
"I'm going to let him take her home
as soon as she can travel You don't
know how guilty I feel, Wade, tt» have
let her live right across the street and
get Into aich a state. I thought, of
course, you were looking after her If
you were in love with her."
"Who said I was?"
"You did, over in the square."
"I said I was in love."
"Well?'
"Jean," he said softly, despairingly,
"Jean, can't you see anything; can't
you understand anything at all?"
The nurse stepped to the door for
something, but after one glance retreat
ed noiselessly. There is such a thing
as professional discretion.
(Copyright, 1917, by the McClure Newspa
per
| HITS AND FACES j|
ftj
;J<| By EARL REED SILVERS. |<J
fit*"*" * i#i •■■•"•"•■■•■ • »'•«■ » »■■«•-»••»-•>-»—« V
Estelle Williams played with an
ivory paperweight on the mahogany
desk of the writing room.
"Harold Smythe is coming to spend
the week-end in Glenwood," she in
formed Dorothy Hunt. "We're going
to £ive a big dance on Saturday eve
ning."
"You are?"
Dorothy showed little Interest in
the person of Harold Smythe. She
had heard so much about him since
Estelle's visit to Miami that she had
formed an unreasonable dislike for
him. But her opinions counted little
in the Williams household; she was
only the orphan daughter of the sis
ter of Mrs. Williams.
It had been hard for her. Of the
same age as Estelle, she was as differ
ent from her cousin as black is from
white. In the first place, she had big,
blue eyes, which gave a hint of pathos,
and which made the men who looked
at them want to protect her from
some harm which they felt was im
pending. She had skin like the soft
est velvet, and cheeks the color of a
pink rose.
Estelle's eyes were colorless, al
though she considered them hazel. Her
skin, In spite of frequent applications
of the latest modern appliances, re
fused to be anything but rough. But
her father was a millionaire, and her
mother had social aspirations.
They had met Harold Smythe at
MlamL and Harold had casually men
tioned the fact that he intended to
come East in the summer. An invi
tation and acceptance had followed,
and the time had finally arrived for the
much-talked about visit.
On Friday morning Estelle, waiting
for the big touring car to carry her to
the station to meet the guest,
found Dorothy sitting on the front
porch.
"Do you wish to ride to town?" she
asked graciously.
"Yes, I would like to go." Dorothy
arose and took the front seat of the
car, while Estelle sat In state In the
tonneau. The former wore a sunbon
net of light straw, which had cost 75
cents In the village store; the latter
was decked in a silver creation which
was purchased in New York for $5O.
They reached the station Just as the
train was pulling out. Estelle leaped
from the car and greeted a good-look
ing, well-set-up young man who was
standing on the platform. She did
not bother to Introduce Dorothy, and
the auto started off for the ride to
the Williams mansion. The girl In
the front seat could hear them chat
ting noisily. She liked Harold's
voice.
When they had reached the house
and alighted from the car, however,
Estelle paused a moment to introduce
the other girl.
"My cousin, Miss Hunt," she said
lightly.
The visitor took Dorothy's hand and
gazed Into her blue eyes. Then he for
got all about his hostess and every
thing connected with her.
"I—l didn't know Estelle had a
cousin," he gasped. "Will you be here
for the week-end?"
"Yes." The one addressed smiled at
his evident confusion.
Harold turned to Estelle, who was
watching with anxious eyes.
"I think that I shall have a wonder
ful time," he announced. "Things are
Just fine here." His eyes returned to
Dorothy.
Mrs. Williams came forth and met
Harold. When the guest had been
shown his room, Estelle called her
mother to one side and talked earnest
ly In guarded tones. Dorothy saw Mrs.
Williams nod her head decisively, and
then Harold appeared again.
"If you would like to see the place,"
Estelle suggested, "I will show you
around."
"That will be fine." He turned to
Dorothy. "You're coming, too, aren't
you?" he asked.
M I —I'm afraid she'll be busy," Es
telle interposed. "She's sort of a
housekeeper here," she added cruelly.
Dorothy's eyes flashed angrily.
"I haven't anything to do," she said
rather defiantly. "I'd love to go."
For the remainder of the morning
they explored the beautiful estate. But
It proved to be a rather trying time
for Estelle. Try as she might, she
could not secure the visitor's atten
tion. When she told him of the depth
of the shaded lake, he looked into the
depths of Dorothy's eyes. So as soon
as they returned to the house Estelle
held a brief consultation with her
mother, and at luncheon Mrs. Wil
liams made an announcement.
YThe painters are fixing the cottage
at Avon," she said to Dorothy, "and I
believe that we ought to have someone
there to look over the work. So you
will go to the shore this afternoon and
stay until Monday."
Dorothy nodded; she saw instantly
the plan to get rid of her, but she
was helpless. So at two o'clock she
started for the shore.
Just one hour later Harold tele
phoned to New York, leaving the phone
with a most dejected look.
*Tm very sorry," he said, "but it
will be absolutely necessary for me to
go to New York this afternoon."
They protested, but all in vain; and
the big touring car arrived at the
station in time for the four o'clock
train. While Estelle waited outside,
Harold walked to the ticket office.
"Give me a single trip ticket to
Avon," he said.
(Copyright, 1917, by the McClure Newspa
per Syndicate.)
|! A HERO'S CUE |
*l • a
Kf' 1 • >♦<
By SYLVIA TURNER. jg
"Heroism," said Doctor Marley at
the dinner table, 'is largely a matter
of accidental coincidence, and a certain
excitable reaction, mental, of course,
wherein the hero feels irresistibly im
pelled to act in accordance with the
exigencies of the moment."
There was a silence at the tables
where Mrs. Bardwell's paying guests
took their evening meal. But Frances
glanced up with a little laughing
glance at Roland, and Miss Brockway
gave vent to an audible sigh. Opposite
Frances sat Williams, absorbed as us
ual in his own thoughts, and eating too
fast.
"Do you agree with this, Mr. Wil
liams?" asked Miss Brockway, tact
lessly.
"Yes," said Williams, without par
ley. "No man is a hero who sets the
stage and acts a part. It is purely In
voluntary."
After dinner, as usual, he avoided
the congregation of kindred souls out
on the front steps and in the double
parlors. Roland always Joined them,
but Williams went on up to the back
room they shared in common and went
after his engineering books with a cer
tain savage avidity. It was late when
he finished, about 11:30. Roland came
up. He spoke of the new moon and of
Frances' dancing.
"Some girls are merely spectacular,
but she has soul and Intellect," said
Roland. "She is not exactly what you'd
call beautiful, Tom, but she's tantalls
ing and Interesting. Did you know she
was from Kentucky, too?"
Williams nodded his head imperson
ally.
It was far into the night when he
wakened with the muscles of his throat
taut and stinging. When he opened hit
eyes he faced a gun-metal colored mist.
Making for the window in a quick dive,
he opened it wide, drew in the keen
air deeply and turned around to rouse
Roland. Williams wasted no time, but
splashed water in his face and told him
to get out in the halls and rouse the
people, while he found the source of
the fire.
"Ring in an alarm," he called, as he
slapped a Turkish towel out of cold
water and held it around his face and
nostrils in the downrush through the
halls. And from then on until he was
fished out unconscious from the sub
cellar by the firemen, Williams dropped
out of mortal ken, but Roland die
covered involuntary heroism. He was
in his pajamas with a raincoat thrown
hastily over them, going from door to
door rousing the slumbering boarders.
Also, he went to the corner and turned
In the fire alarm, rather dazedly. And
when he came back he met the full
contingent of Mrs. Bardwell's house
hold coming downstairs with their most
precious belongings clasped in their
arms. Frances stood out on the front
steps.
"Have you seen Mr. Williams any
where?" she asked. "The firemen are
coming, aren't they?"
"Oh, yes," Roland assured her, hap
pily. "I have just turned in the alarm.
I don't think it's dangerous yet, though.
Only, of course, the smoke. We might
all have been suffocated."
"That's what they are saying," an
swered Frances. "It was good you
wakened in time."
Now right there was Roland's
chance, and he missed it because the
doctor spied him and hailed him as a
hero. So did Miss Brockway, almost
fainting on his shoulder. So did each
and every one of the survivors, indi
vidually and severally. He had roused
them and saved their lives. Roland
almost believed It himself.
Then came the engines outside and
the firemen. And Clarence, the colored
waiter, emerged from the basement en
trance gasping and the bearer of tid
ings.
a boiler of clothes done got left
on de laundry stove," he explained,
"and Mister Williams he'B down dere
In de smoke right by de furnace. He
put de fire out all by hlsself."
Two stalwart firemen bore Williams
up out of the laundry in the subcellar.
It was a bad anticlimax. He was un
conscious and blackened, and his hands
were burned and his eyebrows and hair
were singed. And while everyone wor
ried and tended to him Frances turned
just once to Roland and asked:
"And you forgot him?"
"Frances, I Just this minute got back
from sending In the alarm —"
"This minute?" Frances' eyebrows
raised. "What an instantaneous re
sponse the department gave you. You
might have told someone that he was
down there, you know —there was time
while they were praising the hero."
And when Williams opened his eyes
and said quite anxiously and impul
sively before everyone:
"Frances!"
'Tm here, Tom." She went over to
the big couch where he lay and gave
him her hands, even with Miss Brock
way's eyes upon them.
"Everybody safe?"
"Everyone," she assured him.
"It was only that blamed laundry
sfove," he muttered, "but the smoke
got me by the throat —"
The doctor turned around and softly
left the parlor. After him went Miss
Brockway and Mrs. Bardwell, and the
rest, last of all Roland, and left the
two from Kentucky alone.
The ex-hero was silent, and In the
front parlor there was silence, too, un-
II Frances came out with a little hap
py smile on her face and wee smudge
)f black on her cheek.
ICopyrlght, 191 r, by the McClure W—iw
per SynCcaleJ
COMMANDS ARMORED
CAES ON EASTERN LINE
COMMANDER LOCKER-LAMPSON
Commander Locker-Lampson is in
command of the British armored cars
and trench mortar sections that are
helping the Russians combat the ad
vantage of the Austro-Germans In Ga
licia.
A GENERAL SURVEY OF
THE WAR
The London district was again raid
ed Sunday night—the second time in
twenty-four hours —by German air
men. There is a circumstantial but
unconfirmed report that one enemy
machine was brought down.
While there was a bright moon
there also was a slight mist and the
raiders were Invisible to persons In
the streets, but from the sounds of
the anti-aircraft guns In action the in
dications were that the raiders were
moving over various quarters of the
district.
Eleven persons were killed and 82
Injured In Saturday night's air raid
and nine killed 42 injured Sun
day night, it is announced officially.
The material damage was not great.
Four groups of German airplanes at
tempted to attack London In the raid,
but most of the machines were driven
off. Bombs were dropped in the
northeastern and southeastern dis
tricts of London and at various places
In Kent and Essex.
The British are maintaining their
new line in Flanders strongly. The
main battle was in the neighborhood
of Cameron House, south of the
eastern extremity of Polygon wood,
where the Australians are pressing
the Germans hard. The situation as
a whole is virtually unchanged.
Northwest of Zonnebeke heavy fight*
in# continues in the region of the ele
vations which dominate a consider
able extent of territory. From the
British standpoint the situation re
sulting from the new offensive is ex
ceedingly satisfactory.
The ridge over which the fighting is
now in progress. is virtually all that
separates the allies from the plains
of Flanders.
Although the official German com
munications lately have been claiming
British defeats or discounting the ad
vances made, the desperate resistance
of the Germans Is an Indication of the
vital significance of the recent allied
gains. German officers taken pris
oners admit the seriousness of the sit'
uation for their country.
In their offensive operations of the
past three days General Cadorna's
troops have taken 2,019 prisoners, th«
Rome war office announced.
Words of praise were being shower
ed on the members of the American
engineering unit who showed so much
coolness when German airmen bom
barded their barracks. ,
Although the bullets from the ma
chine guns riddled their houses the
men were safely tucked away in the
dugouts and seemed to enjoy their
first experience under the fire of the
enemy.
The barracks attack was not the
first time the members of the engi
neer contingent have been under fire.
As a matter of fact they are getting
hardened to the sensation of being
shelled. Thiß is especially true of the
railroad pioneer regiment. Enemy
aviators have repeatedly attempted to
bomb nocturnal trains under charge
of Americans transporting supplies to
French sectors.
WANT LA FOLLETTE OUT
His Ouster From Senate Asked by
Minnesota.
Discussion is going on at the capltol
over the petition that was received In
the senate for the removal of Senator
La Follette. Although the request was
promptly referred to the committee
on privileges and elections it was said
it would not die there. The matter
is considered of great importance.
It was the anti-war utterances of
Senator La Follette of Wisconsin at
St. Paul recently during which he con
doned the sinking of the Lusltania,
which culiminated in Senator Kellogg
of Minnesota offering the resolutions
adopted by the public safety commis
sion of Minesota, of which Gov. J. A.
A. Burnquist is chairman, calling for
Mr. La Follette's expulsion. Along
with this resolution was another, to
the same effect, passed by the Wesh
burn Loyalty league of Washburn,
Wis
35 TAKEN IN
I. WJf. RAID
Bill Haywood and Kis Aids
Arrested In Chicago
166 NAMED IN INDICTMENTS
Grand Jury Returns Blanket Indict
ment Charging Nationwide Conspir
acy to Hamper Government.
Formal return of a blanket indict
ment charging a nation-wide conspir
acy to hamper the government dur
ing the war was made in the United
States district court in Chicago,
against 166 leaders of the Industrial
Workers of the World.
Arrests speedily followed the re
turn. Almost before the court pro
ceedings had reached the state of the
discharge of the jury deputy marshals
were on their way to the local I. W. W.
headquarters in automobiles, donated
and driven by women, and quickly re
turned to the federal building bringing
prisoners with them.
In the first hour 35 men were thus
haled into the marshal's office and
later were questioned by investigators
for the department of justice. Among
*.ha to be taken in custody was
William D. Haywood, secretary of the
national organisation of the I. W.-W.,
who .wa» questioned Sept. 5, when the
headquarters of the I. W. W. in vari
ous cities were raided by the govern*
ment.
An explanatory statement Issued by
the government attorneys who have
directed the investigation of the sedi
tious conspiracy, the crime of which
the men named in the indictments art
accused, said:
"The prosecutions are under sec
tions 6, 19 and 37 of the criminal code
and under the espionage act. Only
loaders in conspiracies or those per
sonally culpable in connection with
the preparation of crimes against the
United States are included as de
fendants
"The astounding feature which
stands out at the conclusion of the in
vestigation and which is well calcu
lated to make patriotic persona shud
der with alarm is found in the dis
closure of the number of men enjoy
ing the protection of the government
who are so far unmindful of social du
ties and obligations as to openly ad
vocate the most vicious forms of sabo
tage, particularly in industries en
gaged in furnishing war munitions."
To permit the sure arrest of the in- (
dieted men no hint of their namea was
permitted to escape during the court
proceedings, which occupied only a
few minutes and cdnsiated of a state
ment from the foreman of the federal
grand Jury that its labors had
completed, the handing of a bulky
sheaf of indictments to the clerk of
the court and a few brief words from
Judge Evans thanking the jurors for
their saorifice of time and effort and
assuring them that they had done their
duty as citizens, a duty which the
court said was "quite as Important a*
any obligation which rests on a cit
izen."
Taft's Son Will Wed.
Oharles P. Taft, son of former Prea*
ident and Mrs. Taft, will be married
on Saturday to Miss Eleanor Chase oi
Waterbury, Conn.
LIVE STOCK AND GRAIN
Pittsburgh
Cattle—Prime, $13.25@14; good, $l2
@l3; tidy butchers, $10.50011.50;
fair, $809.25; common, $6.5097.50;.
heifers, $609.75; common to good fat
bulls, $6.5008.71; common to good fat
cows, $4@8.60; fresh cows and spring
ers, $40090.
Sheep and Lambs —Prime wethers,
$11.25(3)11.75; good mixed, $10,250
11.25; fair mixed, s9® 10; calls and
common, $5 @7; heavy ewes, $701O;i
spring lambs. $12012.75; veal calves,
$15.50(8)16; heavy and thin calves, $7
@11.50.
Hogs—Prime heavy and heavy mix
ed, $19.40<0>19.50; mediums and heavy
yorkers, $19.25019.60; light yorkers,
$18.25018.50; pigs, $18018.25; roughs,
$17.50018.50; stags, $15016.
Cleveland
Hogs—Heavies, $19019.15; mixed,
$19019.10; yorkers, $l9; pigs, $17.50
017.75; roughs, $17.50017.75; stags,
$15.50.
Sheep and Lambs—Choice spring
lambs, $15.60016.50; fair to good,
$14.50015.50; common, $8014.50;
choice sheep, $9.50011; culls and
common, $5OB.
Calves —Choice, $15.60016.25; fals
to good, $14015; heavy and common*
$9012.
Cattle —Prime shipping steers, $ll
012; good to choice, $9.50010.50;
good to choice butcher, $8.5009.50;
fair to good, $7.500 8.25; common to
light steers, $6.5007.25; good to
choice heifers, $7.5008.50; choice fat
butcher bulls, $7.2508.25; bologna
bulls, $607; choice fat cows, $708;
fair to good, $5.5006.50; canners and
cutters, $505.50; milch cows and
springers, $6OO 90.
Chicago.
Hogs—Bulk, $18.65019.45; lights,
$18.35019.45; mixed, $18.30019.60;
heavy, $18.25019.55; roughs, $18,250
18.45; pigs, $14.40018.10.
Cattle —Native beef, $7.25017.25;
western steers, $6.40015.25; stockers
and feeders, $6.25011.25; cows and
heifers, $5012.50; calves, $10015.75.
Sheep Wethers, $8.90 0 12.50;
lambs, $l3OlB.