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Y some of his shopmates Radway was refered to as a "peculiar guy," but those of that mind took care not to express the sentiment in his hearing. Others opined he was "all right, once you got onto his curves," but it was generally understood that his "curves" were swift, accurate and wicked.

Even the Boss was quite deferential to "Rad" (as he was popularly known) when the aforementioned Rad was not in good humor.

Possibly this difference was due to the fact that Rad could sling more paint in a given time than any three men in the shop put together.

Possibly the Boss, had too little confidence in his own batting average and too much for Rad's to start anything, wordy or otherwise.

Possibly-but why continue?

Take it for granted that the Boss knew his business, as did likewise Rad.

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Now, all properly constructed ratives should have a beginning, a plot, more or less worked out, and an ending.

This narrative begins in the middle and works out both ways, for there wasn't any beginning it just happened-and the ending, well, the ending just happened, too.

Rad had been in the shop two years, which by his own word of mouth was "some considerable time for him to linger in one place."

During the interim he had enjoyed differences of opinion with every man of the crew, not excepting the foreman, which last every mother's son of us knows to be the offense with a walking-ticket coupon.

He usually wore the won't-come-offsmile, but sometimes he did not. When he did not the crew, including the Boss and foreman chirped "Hello" (with the soft pedal on) when he appeared for work.

Now don't for a moment set Rad down as a bully for he was anything but that. He Just went out after what he wanted, interfered with no one unless they interfered with him-if they did, well, "let the best man win" was his slogan.

The morning this narrative is supposed to open, Rad was not wearing his breakfastfood-advertisement-smile.

He stalked into the office and grunted "Well?"

The Boss, who had dined not wisely but too gastronomically well the previous evening was tempted to grunt back, but observing Rad dislodged his heels from the desk and spoke real polite from behind the morning paper.

"Ther's an outside job on Madison Street Sextant Building you worked there before. The team's on the way. Guess the tackle's all right, but look over the pennants an' block the gutters. I've a hunch those gutters are past the prime of youth, so keep your eye peeled. An' here!" as Rad started to leave, "is a new man. Take him along an' give him a try-out-he's green to outside. Lemme know tonight how things pan out."

The Boss disappeared behind his paper. Rad sized up the new man. The new man sized up Rad.

The latter's summary was quick and decisive. Not more'n 30, scared blue 'bout goin' up outside. Bet he's married. Wife and kids livin' on stewed prunes, most likely. "Come on," he called gruffly, "don't stand there like a canned herring."

Here, as this narrative is not conducted along schedule lines, it appears necessary to introduce some attributes peculiar to Rad, also those of the new man, by name Peter Stevenson.

It was rumored, even vouched for, that Rad had once been a sailor. It was also rumored that he had once preformed daring feats as a "high wire" circus artist.

Be these rumors foundationless ог otherwise, the fact remains that what Rad didn't know about ropes and the knotting thereof wasn't necessary to know. The reckless enthusiasm displayed by him when suspended on a swinging stage (the higher the altitude the more enthusiasm) was a bit disconcerting, especially to those who were working on the same stretch.

His greatest delight was tackling a church spire, or the dome of a building. Once swung in a bo's'n's chair, the way he put on paint was a caution, his exploits hair-raising.

Possibly the Boss stood for Rad's uncertain temperament because the shop's

Blacks

NEW YORK

PHILADELPHIA

CINCINNATI

LONDON, ENGLAND

Established 1896.

Remover and Cleaning Tools Only.

Associated with Dougall Varnish Co., Montreal.

business was almost wholely confined to the skyscraper class-you know, the kind that begins up above the soft coal belt and ends on the asphalt.

As for Peter Stevenson, his place in this narrative was on the order of the chorus in a Greek drama-sort of an accessory before the fact.

It is quite likely that "Steve" (to adopt Rad's abbreviation of his name) will not forget his first experience on a swinging stage. Those of the crew who witnessed the preformance voted that it was something fierce the way Rad swung out from the sill, something worse than fierce the way he let out falls without a moment's warning. Steve's faith in Providence and the guy line were all that saved him. When the two reported at the shop that afternoon, Steve was still trembling from fright and what could be seen of his face, liberally polka-dotted with zinc color, twitched nervously.

"Well, watcher want?" growled the Boss, eyeing the pair.

"I want a drink more'n anything, but seein' you're not buyin', reckon I'll pay for it myself. Incidental, an' of no special consequence, them gutters you referred to is on the blink, but I guess they'll hold 'til the job is finished."

"Need any more stock?"
"Uh-huh-here's the list."

The Boss took the crumpled memorandum and raised his eyebrows interrogatively towards Steve. Rad strode to the desk, selected a pen and wrote on the reverse of

the memorandum, "The new man is O. K. A little scared but I gave him a try-out today and he'll do."

The Boss' eyebrows resumed their normal horizontal and without further conversation Rad departed with Steve in tow.

"Where you goin'?" inquired the latter as the shop door closed behind them. "Home."

"Live far?"

"Three miles out, on the Harrison Car

Line."

"Got a car fare?"

"No."

"Have a drink."

"No."

"Why not? I've got the price."

"Because I want to get home."

"See here," demanded Rad grabbing the other's coat sleeve, "I was some rough with you today an' I'd like to make good. I have to be rough, breakin' in a new man-"

O that's all right," interrupted Steve, "I understand your position-you'd lose your job if you was..'t rough."

Rad's face assumed the lines which always preceeded an argument, then he laughed.

"My job be damned! What you s'pose I care about my job? I've lived before I got this one an' I'll live if I lose it."

"That's all right for you to say, but with me it's different."

"How?"

"I have a wife and three kids. The wife is awful sickly-there's another kid coming. The doctor says she'll never get

through it unless she's moved out of the damp, unhealthy tenement we're in. The wife's folks all died of consumption."

Rad said something under his breath, the kind of expletive not used in Sunday school literature.

"So that's the reason you're tackling an outside job?"

"Yes, and I'm afraid I can't see it through, I get awful dizzy, but I'm goin' to stick it out long's I can. I'm plumb broke and have to take whatever is handed me." "Here's your car," interrupted Rad gruffly, "an' here," giving Steve a shove, "step aboard lively."

"But I've got to walk," remonstrated Steve,

"No you haven't. I slipped some dough in your left-hand coat pocket," yelled Rad as the car started.

Work on the Sextant Building progressed slowly. For one reason the weather was bitterly cold. When it wasn't cold a thaw set in which brought rain and a general washing off of newly spread paint. Rad was still in charge and Steve, or as the crew now called him, "Rad's adopted son," stuck to his post.

He was spared further escapes from instant death. In brief, Rad had broken him in so thoroughly that he had forgotten how to become dizzy-or scared.

The crew noted this with characteristic comments but what they noted more was the change in Rad. His demeanor was lamb-like, his conversation so devoid of epithets that one, over-curious, inquired which church he had recently joined.

The over-curious one regretted his question for Rad's reply was one of his oldtime curves-swift, accurate, wicked.

The reason for his change of spirit, view of life-call it what you will-was due to his growing fondness for Steve's little ones. He had visited the unhealthy tenement-noted the poverty, the cleanliness, and most of all the dire needs of Mrs. Steve.

The little ones adored Rad, for with all his gruffness of exterior they knew, with the unerring instinct of childhood, the goodness which lay behind it. Toys, candy, and more subtantial gifts were delivered at Steve's home.

When Steve remonstrated Rad told him curtly to mind his own business.

One morning, after testing the stage, Rad gave the signal to "Hoist away." After they were 100 odd feet from the asphalt,

their brushes working, Rad remarked casually,

"Your wife sure does look pretty seedy, an' where she's livin' ain't no place for her. Can't you get her to go some place where she'll be more comfortable?"

"She wouldn't leave the kids under no consideration," returned Steve, surprised at the question

"No. Reckon she wouldn't. Say, why don't you get out into the country, where it's healthy, an' buy a little place of your own?"

"For the same reason I don't live on Fifth Avenue and ride in automobiles." They worked in silence until the noon

No one ever knew how it happened and no one ever will. How Rad swung stage at an angle which slid him to earth, with Steve clinging, unhurt on the other end, will always remain a mystery.

A mystery? Well, perhaps the letter found in Rad's jumper pocket might throw some light on the happening. Here it is.

"Steve: I took a likin' to you that first day when I most broke your neck breakin' you in. I like your wife an' I like your kids. I come pretty near havin' a wife an' kids of my own once, but didn't connect. Now I'm gettin' old an' far's I can see there's nothing to live for. I've got $800 in the First National which I have seen to it will be paid to your wife on demand. Buy a little place somewheres in the country, destroy this letter an' keep your mouth shut.

Rad."

"Funny thing about Rad," remarked the foreman to the Boss, "looked to me like a clean case of suicide. Why, he knew more about ropes than any feller I ever see, an' it wasn't no fault of them gutters, neither."

The Boss blew a smoke ring, regarded the end of his cigar critically, "Radway was the best man I ever had in the shop, and I'm sorry he's gone. Whether it was suicide or accident, is none of your business, nor mine. Keep any suspicions you may have to yourself-you know Rad always was a peculiar guy."

is contributing editor of the Outlook, and I am told that that excellent magazine has not as great a sale as some others. It seems that if Roosevelt were the idol of so many millions as his friends claim, that they would have some interest in buying and reading what he writes. Another straw which shows the way of the wind has developed since he announced his candidacy. In barber shops, cigar stores, meeting halls and other places where men assemble, I have inquired how the average man took the Roosevelt candidacy, and the great majority felt that it was unfair for him to "butt in" on Taft's game.

Roosevelt has been compared to Napoleon many times and if you are superstitious you may be interested in a statement that was handed me by a date fiend -one of the fellows who can always tell you of two or three historical events which occurred on the day you meet him. My informant may or may not be a Roosevelt man. I didn't ask. However, he says that the former president announced his candidacy on the anniversary of Napoleon's escape from Elba, and that the Republicans will nominate on the anniversary of the decisive battle of Waterloo. Those were cold days for the first Napoleon, and there be Taft men aplenty who believe that history will repeat itself.

We shall see this year whether the American people seriously regard Roosevelt as a statesman or esteem him an amusing character in the world's vaudeville.

On the democratic side there is going to be a fight for the nomination, but it lacks picturesqueness as yet and is of the oldfashioned kind. There are candidates galore, but they are preserving the decencies of speech. The Republican brethren are not, for Taft has called the Roosevelt people "bugs," and the retort implied that Taft was crazy. They did not use such plain Enghish as that, preferring the words "neurotic" and "paranoiac" in relieving their feelings.

On the whole the democratic candidates appear to be superior men. There are Champ Clark, Woodrow Wilson, Judge Harmon, and Congressman Underwood among the entries, while Hearst is believed grooming in the stables. And with the democracy so long as he lives there is always a possibility of the great Bryan.

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From our side of the house the best men of the four first mentioned are Wilson and Clark. I do not think much of the lat

ter's chances, as he talks too much and is given to expressing himself in a humorous vein. The American people have always elected intensely serious people to high office. To be a humorist is said to be fatal to advancement in American public life. Among Clark's other handicaps is that while many brilliant men sought to make a stepping stone of the House speakership, the people have but once made a speaker President. Clark has always been very friendly to the labor interests. Woodrow Wilson is a college professor who started in public life as governor of New Jersey. Previous to taking office he was anything but friendly to labor. He had the most absurd ideas about unions, and, being an honest man, he expressed them in books and speeches. Among his sponsors were the younger Rockefeller and Colonel Harvey, chief of the editors defending the big interests. When Wilson as governor came in contact with conditions, he saw a new light. He became a radical on many questions and is now looked on as representing the advanced wing of the democracy. It is more than reasonably certain that this is not a mere vote-catching conversion, for among the charges brought against Wilson is that he requested Editor Harvey not to support him for the presidency. This is a rather unusual note in American politics, and I think it reflects credit on Wilson.

Harmon is a judge and while not a tory like Taft, he has those limitations which Gladstone said unfitted lawyers for statesmanship. Except in spots, the Harmon boom is not very active, but it is said to be well financed, and connected with it are several reactionaries.

Underwood's specialty is the tariff, which is not nearly the important question it once was. I have never seen anything to indicate that he was specially favorable to labor or opposed to it. His boom is a very quiet one, and it looks as though he intends to play the part of dark horse in the convention. Judging from the character of some of his principal supporters Underwood as democratic candidate would not he displeasing to a portion of the moneyed interests.

There is a wealth of candidates that could not be produced by the Republi ans, and if the Democrats select and elect the right man the United States will have started on a career of democracy making,

I'll bet the Republican party wishes it had a dark horse. If it nominates Roosevelt, it will admit that Taft's administration