iness man, Appleman told his story. The distiller was
deeply interested, but incredulous. "I will drive back with you," he
said; and late that afternoon the two men visited the cave.

The visit was a brief one. No sooner did the distiller observe those
lurid hieroglyphics upon the barrels than he uttered a shout of delight.
There came back to him the memory of that afternoon so many years ago,
and of his boyish exploit in decoration. He applied his nose judicially
to the auger-hole in the barrel's top. He estimated the amount of
spirits in each. "I wouldn't have believed it," he said, "if I hadn't
seen it. It's because you varnished the barrels. That made evaporation
slow. I'll give you twenty dollars a gallon for all there is of it."

"I'll take it," said John Appleman.

There were in those two barrels just seventy-six gallons of whisky, to
compare with which in quality there was practically nothing else upon
the continent; at least so swore the distiller. Twenty times seventy-six
dollars is fifteen hundred and twenty dollars. The mortgage on the farm
was paid, and John Appleman and wife and daughter leaned back content,
out of debt, and, counting the little John had brought home, with four
or five hundred dollars to the good in the county bank. They are doing
very well now. Appleman regrets the disappearance of the deer, wild
turkey and ruffed grouse, but the quail are abundant, and the flowers
bloom as brightly and the birds sing as sweetly as in the days before
the war. Time, just as it improved the whisky, has improved his wife,
and she has a mellower flavor. He prefers Michigan to Mexico.

I have read somewhere that there is a moral to the life of every man. I
have often speculated as to the moral appertaining to the career of
Appleman. If he had never bought those two barrels of whisky he would
have lost his farm. On the other hand, had he never taken to drink, he
might have remained at home an ordinary decent citizen, and his farm
have never been in peril. The only moral I have been able to deduce is
this: If by any chance you come into possession of any quantity of
whisky, don't drink it, but bury it for thirty-five years at least, and
see what will happen.

THE MAN WHO FELL IN LOVE

He lived in one of the great cities in this country, the man who fell in
love, and was in that city a character at least a little above the
ordinary rut of men. He had talent and energy, and there had come to him
a ha