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Show faultfinding! Cnll a man a sharper! because he is willing to show you how to make a small fortune. Mrs. Bowser, if you are going to do the usual thing, you will drive me Into leaving this house!" "I hope it wou't be as bad as that, but there is a certain thing you have not posted yourself about. The land Is covered with hardwood trees. You can't make wooclpulp out of beech or maple or oak or hickory or any trees that list mentions. You can make ax handle, wagon spokes and veranda chairs out of hickory, and you can make furniture out of other hard woods, but you can't make woodpulp. You can steam some of the wood and bend in most any shape you wish, but you can't soften them into wood-pulp. wood-pulp. "Why why I thought " stammered stam-mered Mr. Bowser. "You thought that woodpulp could be made of any tree," interrupted Mrs. Bowser. "And I thought right ! I tell you, woman, if a' mistake has been made here you have made It. What right have you a woman to claim to be so well-posted on a matter that yon surely know nothing about? Why. with all my experience I have never been in a paper mill. And you talk as if you have been In twenty." "But a woman can read as well as a man," protested Mrs. Bowser. "One need not go near a paper mill to un- i - - I Bowser's j I Little Plan ! ; I He Is Going to Reduce I S the Cost of White : I Paper One-Half : I I (Copyrlffbt, McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) By M. QUAD. When Mr. Bowser came up to dinner din-ner the other evening there was a letter let-ter awaiting him which had come in the afternoon mail. It. was a letter from a postmaster up the state. He opened it, and expressed a great satisfaction, satis-faction, lie had no particulars to give out, and Mrs. Bowser had learned to repress her curiosity. Half an hour after they had gone upstairs Mr. Bowser began pacing the floor, as he always does when he has got a little scheme on hand. By and by he suddenly made up his, mind to unbosom himself, and he sat down and drew the letter from his pocket and said : f "Mrs. Bowser I hold a fortune in my hand." "Has some one died and left you a legacy?" she queried with a smile. "YTou know that paper is made of woodpulp?" "I do." "They take wood and soften it up in some way so as to make a pulp of it. You follow me, don't you?" "Yes, I understand everything." . "The papermakers have tried in vain to find a substitute for this woodpulp. They have even ground up old hats. They can make wrapping wrap-ping paper out of bootlegs, and straw stacks and a kind of grass, but nothing but woodpulp makes the paper they want 'to1 make most, and whole forests have disappeared in the last two or three years." "Yes, I have read about it several times," said Mrs. Bowser. "Your coming fortune has something to do with the woodpulp, hasn't it?" "It has all to do with it, my dear, as you will soon learn. About a month ago a stranger came into my office and introduced himself as Mr. Riley. He wanted to go to war and become a great general, but he could not do so unless he could make certain cer-tain business arrangements. He owns a tract of woodland, comprising 1,(700 acres. It was worth $15 an acre, but he would sell it to me for $10, and give me plenty of time to pay for it. That is, I am to pay him half down in cash and he takes a mortgage on the land for three years. Those are very favorable favor-able terms, and they could not have been offered me, except that Mr. Riley was anxious to be a general." "Well?" was the query. "He said that about half a dozen paper manufacturers Were after that woodland, but he would give me the preference. There are trees enough on that land to keep 10 paper mills going night and day for a year. The new supply of woodpulp will bring down the price of white paper fully r0 per cent. I buy that land at $10 "Mr. Riley Was Anxious to Be a General." derstarid that you can't dissolve a hickory ax handle into pulp. You can split it into a hundred pieces, but you cannot make a fibrous matter of it. Go out and see anyone you wish about it, and if he don't tell you as I do I will never again object to any of your plans." "Yes, I will go out," exclaimed Mr. Bowser, as lie brought his fist down on tlie reading table, "and I will let half a dozen men decide who Is the ignoramus in the case. If you know-more know-more than I do " , Mr. Bowser went out. He interviewed inter-viewed the carpenter, a grocer, a butcher and a builder, and, though they didn't call him names, they looked at him with amazement and a contempt that hurt his feelings. The builder went so far as to say that he might as well buy out a junk shop and try to sell the old iron, brass and copper to the papermakers; and 3 .S fiS '8 "Forty Trees to the Acre." an acre. I hold It six months and I am Just as sure to get $J5 for It as the sun rises." "I do not take anything for granted. I am too good a business man for that. Mr. Uiley could not give me the number of trees ou his thousand acres. I put him off and wrote to a postmaster to get me a man to go over the land and do the counting, and hero is his report. It is more than satisfactory, and Mr. Kiley will, be here tomorrow night and we will close the bargain. I will read you the report. The man made a careful count, and he says there are about 40 trees to the acre that Is, good-si.od trees. These trees comprise oaks, maples, beech and Iron-wood Iron-wood trees. There are also a few chestnut chest-nut trees and elms." "The man did not count any spruce trees, did he?" asked Mrs. Bowser. "According to tills statement, he did not (hid any spruce trees at all, hut Just the sort I mentioned." "I thought It might turn out that way. Your Mr. IUley Is a sharper, my dear." "That's It that's It. Itegln your the grocer intimated that as long as there were such men In the world the price of butter and eggs could never be brought down to the old standard. Mr. Bowser realized just what would happen when he re-entered his house, Mrs. Bowser would he reading a book. She would lay that book down with a smile of triumph, anil she would expect an apology from him. He would feel crushed and humiliated, and. though she would not crow over him, he could not hold his head up again for a week. Mr. Bowser lingered by his gate. Ho also lingered on the front steps. He turned the doorknob quietly and he walked in without his scuff of the feet. Yes. Mrs. Bowser sat there with a book. She laid the book down with a smile, but she said: "Mr. Bowser, a rut has gnawed a hole and found his way Into the kitchen. Won't you set a trap for him tonight?" That was all nil except that Mr. Kiley hasn't sold thut woodland to Mr. Bowser yet. |