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I BLUE WATER A TALE OF THE DEEP SEA FISHERMEN BY FREDERICK WI [Copyright by the How the Story Started. | Frank Wésthave:, known as "Shorty," lives at Long Cove on Bay| . of Fundy coast with his mother and his uncle, Captain Jerry Clark. He! and his chum Lemuel Ring, drink al bottle of rum, whereupon Frank's uncle tells him the story of his fath-| er's fondness for drink and how the! "Grace Westhaver" went down off, Sable Island with ten of her crew and her skipper. This has the desired ef- fect upon Frank. The two boys pilot! an: Italian vessel into Anchorville to. the astonishment of Captain Spinney,' harbormaster. Frank applies himself to study during his final school year,| and Closing Day brings all the Long Covers' to the ancient schoolhouse, Captain Asa Crawford is a subject of comment. CHAPTER THREE--(Con'td.) "The ol' Captain's keepin' his age well," commented one portly dame in a stage whisper. neighbor. "Yes," assented = her "Seventy, I cal'late." The old skipper heard and cor- rected. "No, I ain't, Mrs, Pusey. Ye know well enough that I'm jest eight year older"n --"" While the worthy captain was rak- ing up comparative dates Mrs, Pusey was vainly endeavoring to change the subject from an uncongenial topic. The children, with cheeks shining, hair brushed, and drésed in their best, were nervously awaiting the com- mencement of the exercises. Mn. Westley arose and tapped the desk for silence. Instantly the hum of voices died down with the exception of Captain Crawford's, and he was still laying down the law to the port- Yilady ped with rage and mortification m, "Yams," he was saying, "you were 'zackly twenty-five years of age when I was a-conrtin' you long in cighteen- fifty, an' 1 was mat: o' th' "Freeman Collins" then, an' jest thirty-two. 'Clem Pusey married you in 'fifty-nine, an' folks was a-sayin' then that you were gittin' along an' consarned lucky t' git a man--" .The clergyman tapped the desk ominously, while the assembled par- ents tittered. Mrs, Pusey was a notori- ous gossip, and the old sailor was providing an unconscious play for their delectation. "Captain Crawford," interrupted the minister, who was a diplomat, "I think we should have you seated with | us up here on the platform." And greatly to Mrs. Pusey's relief, the old man accepted the invitation and squeezed himself between Jerry Clark Mr. Letteney, The recitations then commenced with a sextette of little girls, wonder- fully arrayed in vari-colored ginghams and sashes, who, after their initial coymess Jad passed, sang to the ac- companiment \ of the school harm- onium, played by Miss Prim. This was liberally applauded by the de- hi parents "of the girls, "and jawed in glowing terms. A studious- looking boy got up next and delivered "Mark Antony's address to the Ro- mans," and his oratorical effort was hungrily followed by his admiring father--a horny-handed trawler of the Grand Banks. : "Great work, son," he rumbled wh:n the boy had retired, "Ye'll be in Par- Yament yet afore ye're through." And chuckling to himself, he broke 'the stem of a favorite pipe in his nervous pleasure. 'For a reading, Shorty read from thet portion of "Westward Ho!" which describes the apprcach of the "Rose" to La Guayra, and it moved old Cap- tain Asa Crawford to make some re- i t remarks, LLIAM WALLACE. * Musson Book Company] nearly all th' sums. It hez bin good fun too at rights, figgerin' out th' problems an' seein' by the answers ef ye were right--most good as a game," The uncle nodded. "That's fine, Frank, an' I'm glad that th' book was some good after all, Now d'ye think ye ¢'d go t' work an' figure out th' runnin' an' cost o' a vessel--say a fishin' vessel like?" "Yes, I think so." "Waal now, jest suppose we git to home an' git some paper, an' I'll give Ye tome little problems t* work out, eh?" Vaguely wondering what his uncle was driving at, Shorty got out paper and pencil when they arrived at the house}, and seating himself at the table, announced that he was ready. The skipper lit his pipe and, screw- ing his eyes up in deep thought, be- gan. "Suppose, Frank, we hev a sum of ten thousand dollars between us-- got that, ten thousand dollars in hard cash. Néw we go git to work an' buy a vessel--a new vessel--ninety ton- ner, Bank fisherman, carryin' ten double-trawl dories. She costs, with gear an' all complete, say nine thou- sand five hundred dollars--got that?" "Yes," replied Shorty. - "That leaves five hundred dollars and the vessel." "Good!" continued the other. "Now we ship a crew on th' share system for fresh fishin'. I go as skipper with a ten-dory gang, a cook, an' no spare --1I calllaté I'm limbér enough yet t' catch dory painters an' ship pen- boards--an' we make a trip o ten jdays, say--off th' Cape, Shore or | Browns--an' git a fare o' one hundred 'thousand at one dollar'n seventy-five cents a hundred. How. much is that, {| Frank 7" "One thousand seven hundred an' fifty dollars!" "Good! Now cal'late that th' vessel takes a fifth o' that as her share. What's that?" Ye : "Three hundred and fifty: dollars!" "Now say we make twerity trips at th' most with an average fare o' eigh- i ty thousand at one seventy-five. What 'ud that make?" Shorty did some figuring. "It would make a total stock of twenty-eight thousand dollars for the twenty | trips-- "And th' vessel's share "ud be?" i "Five thousand six hundred dol- ars." | _ Uncle Jerry nodded. "In two years, I cal'late, she'd pay for herself, | 'thout counting my share an' '¢'mis- ision. How'd we stand at the end o' ith' second year, Frank?" "Waal, Uncle, ye'd hev a good ves- cel fully paid for én' eleven thousand two hundred dollars in hand, sides th' five hundred balance outer yer original ten thousand dollars--makin' th' ves- sel an' gear complete, an' eleven thou- fifty dollars a trip, or a thousand dol- lans for th' season." 1 ' While the room became befogged with tobacco smoke, uncle and nephew wrestled with problems of insurance, overhauls, expenses for dories, de- preciation, wear-and-tear of gear and sails, and possible accidents They figured up profits on salt fishing and halibuting trips, and at the end of it had become filled with figures and Shorty's brain was a-whirl, the fish- Bg skipper expressed himself satise "You're my boy, Frank," he said, slapping the stocky. youngster on the back. "Consarn me, but: ye figure 'a dern sight better'n that ol' white-hair- ad book-keeper down to Cullahan's Wharf in' Gloucester--an' he kinsiders himself no small beans. That joker he said, | kin git th' hail of a trip when th' ves- sel swings in th' dock end, an' by th' ter | time she's tied up he hez th' share checks all ready for th' gang t" git ian' draw. Let's git in an' see what th' cook's got, Frank. I hear yer ma rattlin' them dishes, an' I cal'late we'll #h' | €o an' see what she means by it." my own eyes, an' I saw that gov- emor's House up th' hill-side, tho' it t' me aT were. pan; it for a d when I was in La Gooayra a Lremember havin' t' go up that- in "bout one'o' my crew mn an' ; dnok cap 's ion, Shorty : and ot thunderous applausé ' The usual speeches were made, and, pling proud of himself, Shorty ve cho srouse for the last time 2 The Captain remained in Long Cove 'until August, and Shorty went with 2 Dick in the dory. h he And withthe. aig) fun and ha | The Price of Motherhood, The reason that so many people fail in life is beeause they are not willing to pay the final price of success. For all that we get in the world we have to pay sqmething. Nothing ¥ ren, but when we pay little, we get le. A The trouble with most of us is that we are always on the hunt for a bar- gain, We want the best, but we ex- pect to get it marked down, and we are surprised and disappointed when we find that we do not get first-class articles for a second-class price. Women fail as mothers because they think that somehow they gan bring up their children on the bargain coun- ter plan, - Motherhood is a costly enough thing at best. For Ler children every woman pays in agony, in endless anxiety, and sacrifice. She cannot escape that, and having paid so much, one would think that she would go on and pay her final instalment on the superlative mother- hood that would insure her boys and girls turning out to be the sort of men and women that are an honor to their parents and a blessing to the com- munity. : Unfortunately, all too many women baulk at this last settlement. They dodge the final payment. These are the mothers who let their children run the streets while they are gadding about. These are the mothers who are 80 occupied with amusing themselves that they do not know how their chil- dren are diverting themselves. These are: the mothers who follow the line of least resistance, and give in to their children because they have not the nerve and courage to stand up and fight self-willed, half-grown boys and girls. The final price of motherhood is" a staggering ome, but only the women who pay it do their duty by their chil- dren, and reap the reward. * Whether a marriage turns out well or ill, depends absolutely on whether a man and woman are willing. to, pay the final price of matrimony. Every- one who marries must pay something. They can't get out of that. Marriage is bound to bring carves and anxieties and burdens, from which the single are free. It exacts the giving up of one's own inclinations and desires, Every thusband and wife must pay this price for being married, and it is because they pay it with grumbling, and whining, and under protest, that So many marriages are failures. It is. because so many husbands and wives try to cheat and get all for no- thing that so many homes are broken up. : land parenthood a shining sucess. They pay in love, and patience, and forbearance. They strive for the hap- piness of each other. They give truth, 'and loyalty and sympathy, and under- standing, . They count sacrifice a joy because it is made for :something dearer to them than their own selfish egotism. Always it is those who pay the full price who get the yorth of their money. Fate runs no bargain counter. : i ------ Rolls at Short Notice. _This is not a recipe, but a suggestion along 'the line of bread-making which any housekeeper will appreciate, for by this method she can have steaming hot rolls for Sunday night's supper without setting the sponge to rise Sat- urday night or Sunday morning. When making up bread, divide the dough, make half of it up into rolls or bread, and put the other half into an air-tight, clean, tin can or pail, having first floured the pail. Cover with a clean white linen or muslin cloth, ad- just the lid and put the pail on the|: ice in your refrigerator, or bury it]: out-of-doors in a snowbank. You will probably think that this treatment will ruin your dough. Not at all. If, in a few days or by the end of the week, you would like to have a pan of rolls, or biscuits, open the pail, take out the dough and mold into shape, place ip a pan and set away to rise. You 'will find that the dough will rise in a sur- prisingly quick time, and your light and delicious rolls will be none the worse for having been chilled, or even frozen. If you have any dough left, put it in the pail and return to the cold again, Dough will keep for two weeks, if not allowed to become heated before it is put away again, It is most convenient as you will find if you try it to have this dough all ready to use at a moment's notice if unexpected visitors come in, A Hbme-Made Tea Wagon, I am a practical farmer's wife, and I work on the farm besides doing the houscwork, so whateVer saves time and labor in the house makes that much, more time for outdoor work. We livé 'in"an old-fashioned farm- house. The pantry opens from one end of the dining-room, and the kitchen from 'the other" énd ®making a. good many steps-necessary when getting a meal. I had an old washstand that was in good condition, also the wheels from a baby's gocart. 1 sawed two buckle on his broad leather belt, and, slipping the wé#ollen nippers over his hands, proceed to get the anchor up and haul in the lengthy trawl. Shorty, as a rule, coiled down the line as Dick hove it in, and in silence, broken only {by the schloop and flop of the hake jand pollock whirled into the dory bot- tom and the vicious slats on the dory sand seven hundred dollars in hand--"| "Sides my share as skipper at say| all, when sheet after sheet of paper: the dogfish and sculping off the hooks, they hauled and coiled and collected the harvest of the sea. When the gear 'had been hauled they made for the | shore, and, pitching out their fish on | the wharf, wheeled it to the shed ' where they dressed and cleaned them, Some of their fares were bought by Jud Morrell or Zeke Ring, who salt-! ed and dried them, dnd afterwards sold. them to a. big. fish company in Anchorville; and sometimes, when the wind was fair and prices right, they ran the dory right to Anchorvill and sold their fish fresh and direct to the company. Thus the summer passed. Mornings when Shorty saw the sun rising over the pine-clad_ hills to the eastward while he was toiling with Long Dick out on the Waters of the Bay. Days of oily calm when Fundy's waters stretched like a mirror of glass along the western horizon and the blazing sun was reflected in them and scorched the faces of the fishermen to an Indian bronze; when the lumber and gypsum ships from the Basin of Minas and Chebucto Bay lay rolling in the swells with chafing sails and creaking yards, and the trawlers sweated as they 'hauled the ing fish over the roller. And the evenings! Were there ever such as those on the Bay shore? When the whole western sky radiated flame, when the sun dropped like a blood-red ball beneath the silent sea, and the lisping waters stretched be- fore the Cove like a vast sheet of gunwale when the fisherman knocked | th | clan to a sanguinary gold in the westering sun, the shadows deepened in the thickets or stretched inky black across the sward, and the window-panes of the houses glowed in lambent fire from the reflection of the sunset. Gradually the light faded, and the soft azure of the night replaced the yellow and purple of the short twilight, and e stars twinkled overhead in myriads and danced in the reflecting pool of the quiet sea. Occasionally a porpoise would break water, and the noise would come rolling in like the splashings of. mermaids in a hidden rock-pool, while ever and anon on those wind-free nights the sonorous of some big ship's bell marking off the hours could be heard vibrating on the drowsy air, (To be continued.) Dye Old Wrap, Skirt, Sweater, Curtains, in Diamond Dyes Each package of "Diamond Dyes" contains directions so simple any wo- nan can dye or tint her old worn, faded things new. = Hven if she has never dyed before, she can put a moh, fadeless color into shabby skirts, dresses, waists, coats, stockings, sweats ers, coverings, draperies, hangings, everything! Buy Diamond Dyes--no other kind---then perfect home dyeing is guaranteed. Just tell your drug- gist whether the material you wish to dye is wool or silk, or whether it is |: linen, co or mixed zoods. : Dia mond Dyes hever streak, spot, fade; or run. : Four small lane in the South Seas were recently offered for-sale in Lon- molten metal. . And behind, the g spruces reared their greenery tinged Minard's Liniment for Grippe and Fiu, | ing to gastritis accompani in your mou standbys also rding aid to teeth, throat, breath, appetite and digestion. Soothing, thirst- uenchi g - next cigar taste better." Pa Candy jacket just "melts. Y ? then you get the delectable gum center. And with Wrigley's three old ing friendly ---- end legs from the stand just the right length, then sawed grooves in the end of the legs to fit down over the axles of the gocart and put small bolts through the bottom of the legs. to hold them in place. Then I put casters on the other two legs ¥ I sandpapered the stand, and nailed a small railing around the~top after covering the top with white oilcloth. Then I fixed the lower shelf in the same way. I stained the stand a dark oak color, and varnished it nicely. Now I put all the things I am going to need in the kitchen, while getting a meal, on this stand, and wheel it out to the kitchen. It makes a very nice little table to use there. Then, when I dish up the dinner, I put it on this little stand, and wheel it into the din- ing-room, thus saving a good many extra steps. The used dishes are put on. it, wheeled back to the kitchen, washed, and again wheeled to the pantry, making one trip where I used to make a dozen, thus saving time for other work. ------ Use Minard's Liniment for the Flu, \ "Lifeboats, with chambers filled with 'rubber sponge, would be even more unsinkable than the present type," says an English scientist. = England contains 150,692 miles of roads, Seotland: 24,771 miles, and Ire- land 55,562 miles, GAS IN THE STOMACH 15 DANGEROUS Recommends Daily Use of Maghesia to Overcome Trouble, Caused-by Fermenting Food and Acid ; Indigestion. 3 tg Cs Mines carton ots ter ig are almost' ain evidence of the presence of excessive hydro chloric 'acid in the stomach, crea so-called "acid indigestion." Acid stomachs are dangerous hbe- cause too much acid irritates the deli: cate lining of the stomach, often ous stomach ulcers 2d gous, creating : po Ie he ctions of the vital| | th3 norm: unc 1 L Lh and wind in the stomach accom-| Only one man in three is perfectly healthy. - ' v Milk will not burn if, before heating, a little cold water is put into the saucepan and brought to the boil. The milk can then he heated in the usual way. > : v { REDUCE 8 POUNDS A MONTE by taking + CROWTOX #2 Box Box and following the Orowtox Diet. Sold by all druggists, or by mall, ROSS MEDICINE COMPANY 76 Jarvis Street, Toronto TR TT T HE postman and expressman will bring Parker service right to your home, We pay carriage one way. | Whatever you send -- whether it be, household draperies or the most deli-, cate fabrics--will be speedily returned] to their original freshness. When you think of cleaning or dyeing Roh think of PARKER'S, Parker's Dye Works Limited Cleaners and Dyers "791, Yonge'ist. 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