asked the officer more quietly.

"Nothing."

"How long have you been here?"

“Um-m-m—perhaps three-quarters of an hour," "Here in this parlor?"

"Ask your questions, if you want to," said Vayle; "but I can give you an account of myself more quickly."

"I guess I don't need it now," said the officer finally, after another searching glance. "You will be a witness, of course?''

Vayle bowed.

"I may say," said he, "that Dr. Calder was my uncle, and the uncle of Miss Garman, my cousin, who lived with him. I have been siting her in her private parlor, which is on the upper floor. Dr. Calder was in his office, as he always is after dinner. I was on my way to leave the house for my office when you came in."

"Has any one else been here this evening?" asked Grant, turning to Marie.

"Mr. Francis Talbert, her fiancé, came in just before I did," answered Vayle, before Marie could speak. "He is with her now.

"She does not know of this?" "No, nor he."

"Call Miss Garman and Mr. Talbert," said the officer to Marie, who departed immediately on the errand.

"Now," said Vayle, "you and I must take this matter up, Grant."

With these words he stepped forward to look at the dead man, conscious that the policeman was watching him keenly, and anxious lest an excess of indifference should lead to a suspicion that he already knew. But the sight of the stark thing in the chair thrust him rudely out of any possible indifference. The man was dead and staring; it was his own uncle, who had been his kind guardian and the just administrator of his minority; and, as he stood with hands clasped behind him, unwonted tears knocked at the gate of his eyes.

Pale and moved, he turned away. The sigh which burst from him was not all for Lucia's plight. Natural affection for his uncle claimed a part of it; yet he was glad to think that to natural affection Grant would be likely to ascribe it all.

"It's a rough deal, Mr. Vayle," said the officer.

"It is, indeed. You will have no cause for complaint against the district attorney's office. in this case, Grant. I'll find him, whoever he is!" and he ground his teeth with fierce deter

were busy. Let's telephone our offices."

"Smith," said Grant, "you are in charge here. Don't leave this room till you are relieved. And don't disturb anything. You may look around, if you like, but be sure nothing is changed. Now, Mr. Vayle, who are in this household?"

With these words he led Vayle and Marie into the parlor, leaving Smith in the office.

"Dr. Calder, Miss Garman, Marie here, the butler, a cook, and a chambermaid." "That is all?"

"Yes, Dr. Calder kept only a small household." "Where is the telephone?''

"Down the hall a little way. See the booth there?''

"Why did he have a booth, I wonder?" asked Grant.

"I asked him that question once, as it happens, and he asked me how I would like to have my symptoms discussed in the hearing of any one who might be in the doctor's house?''

"This is Officer Grant, Chastain,' he said. "You are under his charge now."

"Yes, sir. But why, may I ask?" "H'm!" snorted Grant. "More ignorance, eh? Where have you been while this was going on?'' "About the house, as usual. But what is the matter, Mr. Vayle, sir?"

"Dr. Calder is dead, Chastain," answered Vayle.

"Dead!” cried the butler, startled out of his professional composure.

"Yes, dead," said Grant, angry at Chastain's disregard of him. "Now, look here, my man, when I ask you a question, you answer me, do you hear, and not somebody else!"

"Yes," replied the servant.

"Yes, sir!" corrected Grant.

"Very well, sir," was the unruffled reply.

"That is better," said Grant. "Now, answer

my questions. Where have you been?"

"I waited on the table at dinner, sir." "And then?"

Most of us lead an exceedingly monotonous existence, and unfortunately sooner or later get to the point where we can neither understand or enjoy any other kind, for the truth is, my dear reader, that monotony also goes by the more imposing and dignified term, "business." Business, successful business, consists in doing the same thing over and over for all the days of our lives, constantly polishing up the corners of the humdrum task until it becomes automatic, at which point it becomes perfect, from the standpoint of the efficiency engineer. When there is perfect efficiency the business runs like a well oiled machine, with interchangeable parts. For every problem there is a ready-prepared answer; for every complaint there is a ready-prepared reply; all the difficulties are solved in advance, the only variant from day to day, being the intellectual effort involved in making the machine always a little better than the other fellow's.

There are breaks in the monotony of course, otherwise there would be no failure in business. Without such breaks to provide excitement and incitement the life of a business man would be insupportable, for know ye, that monotony (business) is a hard taskmaster and brooks no rivalries. The successful business man must be wed to his monotony. He can love nothing but his ledger; his plaything must be a trial-balance sheet; and his emotions must not be led aside from new inventions, reductions of manufacturing cost and the machinations of the hated rival to such trivial topics as books, music and other unprofitable diversions. So once a business man, always a busi

ness man.

When the time comes to lay down the task, monotony doeth her perfect work and kills off its victim promptly, for what has he to live for? The love of the beautiful was stifled years ago;, for the great books he never cared, his time being spent in more interesting topics; he has never played, and so does not know how to play; he has never rested, and so does not know how to rest; he has lived with his eyes in the dust, so that when the time comes to look at the stars he can not see their light.

It is this everlasting monotony-a monotony that is not devoid of excitement so intense that men sometimes foolishly call business a "game"that robs the latter days of many a man of the happiness that belongs to old age. For it is consuming, taking out of men the best that is in them and leaving nothing worth while behind. I would not speak of it here were it not for the fact that physicians also, in the pursuit of their own peculiar "business," are frequently its victims. And there is a remedy which I wish to bring to your attention. The remedy is an avocation. No man should be so busy that he has no time for anything outside of his business. Every person should take up some special form of play, or study, or diversion-something that appeals most to his sense of real enjoyment, and which has permanent values for the jaded mind. For a few of us it is books -but books alone afford too general an object. Why not a special literary field, the mastery of some branch outside the common run, with the col'ection of a special library, the collation and arrangement of authoritative information, and

finally, the putting of what we learn in permanent form?

Perhaps you are more interested in science. Get a microscope and use your spare time to collect and arrange the fungi of your vicinity; keep a record of the weather and observe meteorologic data, like the author of the "Natural History of Selden"; buy a camera and make a series of pictures of the flowering medicinal plants growing in the woods and swamps which you pass every day; or collect butterflies, beetles and moths. One of the most interesting men I ever met, was a country doctor, who spent all his spare time with his collection of insects, and could talk about them with a charm that made me think of Maeterlinck with his bees and Henri Fabre with his ants. The charm was due to the fact that he knew these humble denizens of the dusty roads and rotten logs, and was giving me a glimpse of them through his own eyes.

For a man who has an avocation, a real one, a vacation is a real vacation, and retirement. from the monotony of business is an opportunity, not extinction. Most of us dream of what we would do if we had time; but most of us are making no preparation for enjoyment when we do find the time. Travel? But why, when we have never cultivated interest in the glorious deeds of the past, or the vital problems of the present? How can we enjoy a great picture, when we can not divert our minds from studying the cachexias of our neighbors or perchance, are wondering how the cheese market is going at home? Golf? The doctor has forbidden us that solace because we have hardened arteries or a weak heart! Nothing to do but to sit still and twiddle our thumbs? Business monotony has left us stranded high and dry in a life whose barrenness we have never before realized.

taining, in view of the present extreme interest in radium and radioactive bodies. After tracing the historic development of the race, as influenced by invention, Mr. Wells takes a step into the future. The enormous energy released by radium without marked loss of weight gives his hero an idea. Supposing we could control the distintegration of this body at will? We would have at our command an amount of energy that is simply incalculable. And if we can break up the atoms of radium into their electrons with the production of power-why not also the atoms of some other substances of all other substances? We know that the property we call "radioactivity" is not confined to radium, thorium and other substances of this class. Everything has it. Here, then-in the possibilities residing in the atom-is the power of the future-a power which transcends all the marvels of coal and electricity and the supply of "fuel" is inexhaustible.

It was this dream that led Mr. Wells's hero to think of the atomic engine. About the middle of the twentieth century this engine was discovered. Immediately the whole economic world was revolutionized. The shrinking coal deposits became worthless; so did most of the tools of industry and commerce. This light, powerful engine gave men at once the mastery of the air. The new age was an "air age", as the passing age had been one of coal and steel and electricity. There was a new adjustment of values, and the social order was turned upside down. But read it. The story is absolutely logical-clearly scientific. That science is competent to cope with the problems of the future is the idea the average reader will get out of it; for any man can see that once the inherent power which causes radioactivity can be harnessed we have created a new world, if not a new heaven-a socialistic heaven, such as Mr. Wells paints.

Dear Sir:-A decision favorable to myself was recently handed down by the Appellate Court of Cook County, Illinois, in matter of mandamus proceedings against the late John E. W. Wayman, to compel service of quo warranto writs against the American Medical Association, assumed by your office. To decide a controversy, I take the liberty of asking you several questions, which I trust, you will do me the courtesy to answer, viz.: 1. Did the mandamus action cover the merits of the points at issue between the Trustees of the American Medical Association and myself?

2. Was the decision by the Appellate Court based upon the merits of said controversy?

3. Was the mandamus suit against your office defended by employes of your office?

4. If not by employes of your office, by whom was said suit defended and by whom were they employed?

5. Was the expense of said defense borne by the County of Cook, if not, by whom?

6. Was the appellant's brief submitted to the Supreme Court prepared by your office, if not, by whom?

7. Was the expense of said appeal borne by the County, if not by whom?

8. If an appeal had not been taken, how would the decision of the Appellate Court in .the mandamus proceedings affect the legal status of the American Medical Association?

Hoping that you will extend me the courtesy of a reply, I am,

to say that the merits of the question between you and the American Medical Association are fairly presented to the Appellate Court and by that court passed on. The court held that the election of trustees of a corporation organized in this State should take place in this State, and that the members of the Association should be allowed to vote in person or by proxy. The court also held that former State's Attorney Wayman should have signed the petition for quo warranto presented to him on your behalf.

Your second question is covered by the answer to the first.

As to the third question, the employes of my office did not defend the suit. The suit was defended by Mr. Fred Z. Marx, an attorney at law, with offices in the Title & Trust Building, room 1310. By whom Mr. Marx was employed we do not know. We do not know whether he received any fees from the County. You could probably discover whether he did, by inquiry from the comptroller in the County Treasurer's office. This answers your fourth and fifth questions.

As to your sixth and seventh questions, appellant's brief to the Supreme Court was not prepared by this office, and we do not know by whom the expense was borne.

As to your eighth question, we cannot answer positively, because if an appeal had not been taken to the Supreme Court other proceedings might have been had in the court below. Such proceedings would probably have been the issue of writ of mandamus to compel the State's Attorney to sign the petition for quo warranto proceedings, and thereafter there would have been a hearing on this petition. As we understand it, the Medical Association demurred below, thereby admitting the facts set up. We do not see how they could well have changed their position had not an appeal been taken.

Hoping that we have given you the answers to the questions you desired, I am,

Yours very truly,

(Signed) MACLAY HOYNE,

State's Attorney.

By E. E. WILSON,

Assistant State's Attorney.

P. S.-We find that Mr. Marx was originally employed by Mr. Wayman to defend him in this matter and that his successor, Mr. Hoyne, was substituted as appellee in the Appellate Court.