put to the use of which you are thinking, it
would bring poverty to the world, not wealth, and every diamond on earth
would be worthless."

She trembled. "And these--are they to be valued as common pebbles?"

"Oh no," said he; "these broken fragments I have found are to us riches
far beyond our wildest imagination."

"Roland," she cried, "are you going down into that shaft for more of
them?"

"Never, never, never again," he answered. "What we have here is enough
for us, and if I were offered all the good that there is in this world,
which money cannot buy, I would never go down into that cleft again.
There was one moment, as I stood in that cave, when an awful terror shot
into my soul that I shall never be able to forget. In the light of my
electric lamps, sent through a vast transparent mass, I could see
nothing, but I could feel. I put out my foot, and I found it was upon a
sloping surface. In another instant I might have slid--where? I cannot
bear to think of it!" FRANK E. STOCKTON.

=HELPS TO STUDY=

What happened to Clewe's automatic shell? What did he decide to do?
Tell of the preparations he made for his descent. What occurred
when he reached the end of the shaft? Of what was Clewe thinking so
intently while making his ascent? Why did he go at once to his
office? What conclusion did he reach as to the central part of the
earth? What did he have to prove the correctness of his theory? Why
was he unwilling ever to make the descent again? This story was
written about the end of the nineteenth century: what great
scientific discoveries have been made since then?

SUPPLEMENTARY READING

A Journey to the Center of the Earth--Jules Verne.
The Adventures of Captain Horn--Frank R. Stockton.

FOOTNOTE:

[391-*] Copyright by Harper & Brothers.

A STOP AT SUZANNE'S

The author of this sketch, a young American aviator, a resident of
Richmond, Virginia, was killed in battle in August, 1918.

Suzanne is a very pretty girl, I was told, but the charm of "Suzanne's"
wasn't with her alone, for, always, one spoke of the deliciously-tasting
meal, how nice the old madame is, and how fine a chap is her _mari_, the
father of Suzanne. Then of the garden in the back--and before you had
finished listening you didn't know which was the most important thing
about "Suzanne's." All you knew was that it was the place to go when on
an aeroplane voyage.