away to recuperate at one of the numer ous institutions he has endowed. He looks after his help with the same fatherly eye that watched over his employees when he was manufacturing hoop-skirts in the tiny loft room sixty years ago. The shops are equipped with spacious fire hallways and stairs; the entire plant can be emptied of all its workers in a few seconds. The flowergardens flood the workrooms with fragrance throughout the summer.

A FACTORY FLOODED WITH SUNSHINE

There probably is no sunnier manufacturing plant in the world than that of the Royal Worcester Corset Company. Mr. Fanning has himself thought out the architectural composition of each new unit of space that has been added; his architects have merely designed the definite ideas furnished by him. The workers thrive in the airy, sunny work-rooms.

If the visitor to the Royal Worcester is impressed by the splendor of Mr. Fanning's executive office, with its imported rugs, gleaming mahoganies, gold medals, Dutch tiles, the huge loving-cup made to order by Tiffany and presented by the employees, he is sure to catch his breath in amazement when he enters the palatial restaurant and recreation-room which Mr. Fanning has built for his workers. There is nothing like it in America. It is artistic and vastly inviting. The sun can pour in from three sides of this room.

The windows are hung with tapestry shades and silk hangings, the floors and walls are hand-made tiling. The auditorium seats more than 1,600 people; when used for a lunchroom at noon, its tables seat fully 800. There is a roomy stage with piano and row of footlights. Interior decorators must have tackled the sun-parlor with relish; its steamerchairs and wicker furniture, upholstered with tapestry, are very alluring.

An orchestra composed entirely of workers gives frequent concerts at the noon hour.

Mr. Fanning's welfare work does not end with the workers. He has endowed numerous philanthropies. The Hahnemann Hospital and the new Girls' Trade

Working conditions are unusually sanitary and hygienic, complete in all details, down to a sunny hospital ward and a special water supply

The Outlook Advertising Section

School, both in Worcester, and the charming public park in Jewett City, Connecticut, his birthplace, are notable results of his benefactions. He has also made recent substantial money gifts to the endowment fund of the Slater Library in the latter city.

A WORLD-WIDE LEAGUE OF MERCHANTS

It is no wonder that merchants throughout the world are eager to handle a product manufactured by workers doing their tasks under such attractive conditions. The tranquil craftsmanship that prevails in this establishment is a guaranty of quality that no mere printed slip could possibly impart. The name Bon Ton or Royal Worcester on a pair of corsets enables a merchant to hold his customers because they are satisfied customers, whether he provides corsets for miners' daughters in Alaska, for the bonnie ladies of Scotland, for the slim waists of Siam, or for the fashionables of Patagonia.

The strength and centralized control of Royal Worcester distribution are notable in modern merchandising. The company sells only to the dealer direct; there is no chance for misunderstandings through middlemen or jobbers. The one-price policy inaugurated at the start by Mr. Fanning has never been abandoned. There is no bickering, no concessions for large orders. Whether you place an order for one dozen or for 100,000 dozen pairs of the company's

product, you pay the same price. This protects the small merchant, and does not give the large merchant a selling advantage with his patrons.

The best materials, workmanship, and design are unfailing features of this product. The O-I-C corset clasp, invented and patented three years ago, has proved immensely popular. The nub or post of this clasp is conical in shape, so that when hooked the clasp cannot pinch the flesh, break, squeak, twist, always stays flat, and the nub cannot pull out.

A SCHOOL OF CORSETRY

The Bon Ton School of Corsetry is conducted entirely through the mails and is one of the very few of its kind in America. It was established by Mr. Fanning to train saleswomen, and is of great advantage to merchants. It pro

for them by Mr. Fanning

vides a valuable service to the purchaser of corsets, since it teaches saleswomen the technique of correct measuring, fitting and lacing; it teaches alteration; it includes the study of form and anatomy. There are 2,000 pupils now enrolled in this course, and 1,000 diplomas have already been awarded to pupils who have completed it. This course is offered free of charge. It was undertaken upon the recommendation of one of the company's sales representatives to fill a definite dealer need. It is of general value to the industry as a whole, since the course is in nowise restricted to saleswomen employed in stores handling Bon Ton and Royal Worcester products.

Between 300 and 400 different styles are carried in the pattern room of this foremost of corset manufactories. The sizes range as high as 54. Curiously, there is but one State in the Union where corsets of size 54 are regularly

ordered-the State of Maine. The head designer declares that, as a general rule, the bigger the city, the smaller the waists of women.

The favorite corset colors in various parts of the world are an interesting study. In the United States the only colors in general demand are pink and white, pink representing sixty per cent of the demand, and white forty per cent. France indulges in a much wider range of colors; the various pastel shades are ever in demand, including blues, yellows, orchids, and lavenders; and even black is not uncommon in French corset shops. Holland likes écrus and drabs. Swiss women go in almost entirely for white.

A PERMANENT INSTITUTION

For twenty-five years the Royal Worcester Corset Company has carried on

an extensive world trade; it is a pioneer in the world-wide distribution of American-made garments. The sales representatives of the Royal Worcester Corset Company traverse the world. One, a woman who lives in Sydney, Australia, makes an annual journey to the coast towns of South Africa, to many of the interior points, and to all of Tasmania. She is known by merchants from Portuguese East Africa to the ends of New Zealand.

The executives of Royal Worcester have maps of the world beneath the

glass tops of their desks. Mr. Fanning has picked men of huge horizons as his lieutenants. His own desk is equipped with more electric push-buttons than I ever saw on a desk before. He can instantly summon assistants from any part of the big plant. One almost expects him to press a button and call in a salesman from the Transvaal.

At the age of ninety-one this untiring manufacturer, who was born when Andrew Jackson was President of the United States, who has run his business without an interruption for sixty years,

remains a star performer in the world of affairs. He sits at his desk instead of at his fireside. While others are retiring from business, he rears up with a new invention and patents it. While many others talk grandly about service, he performs it.

He has manufactured not only an important product, but an important and permanent institution. He has helped many thousands of merchants to earn a good living and has enabled many millions of women to be stylish with comfort.

T

THE landlady lumbered down the four flights again after knocking at the dingy door. All day she had been doing the same. Now it was within a half-hour of midnight by the three-legged clock on the draped and cluttered mantel of the basement room where she and the frowsy "lady" from the rooming house next door had been cozily sharing gossip and tea. Their topic to-night, as always, was the doings of that flotsam and jetsam of humanity known to them as "the roomers."

"Don't be afther lettin' the man fool yez, Mrs. Galloon," her friend had warned her repeatedly during the evening. "Didn't me third-floor-front l'ave on me only a wake past, and his rent tin days back? Foine-appearin' lad as ye'd want to see, too! Soft hearts is not for the likes of us, Mrs. Galloon. Who's this friend he bees mumblin' about all the while? Comin' to-night, the friend, does he say? To-night-look at the time it is! The man's aither drunk or he's crazy, Mrs. Galloon. Meself would get into that room if I broke down the dure in the doin'."

"Ah, but 'tis such a grand man he is, Mrs. Mulvey, me dear, so slim-like and tall, and the eyes av 'im-ho, you want to be cryin' yourself, so you do, to look in the two of them, dear. So lonesome they are, all the while. He's stood wid me now for tin months, and always the rent on the dot. He's a wife and two childer somewhere, God pity the whole

THE FRIEND

BY HARRY LEE

of them! Some throuble, who knows! Listenin' to-day in the hall, I hears him talkin' to childer:

""Tommie,' sez he, 'ye'll wear the little blue suit, the sailor suit, dear, wid the stars, and you and wee sister an' me will go to the woods, dear,' he sez. "The wild flowers all will be out. Your mother can't go-she's her sewin' to do here on the porch, under the vines.' He kep' croonin' it over and over like it was a bit of a song. 'Under the vines,' he kep' sayin'."

"He's out of his head, Mrs. Galloon," said the neighbor, preventing the imminent fall of the knob on the top of her own by driving back loosening pins: tipping the teapot again and filling for the fifth time the cracked cup, supporting her arm on the elbow and lifting the brimming bronze to her lips. "He's out of his head! 'Tis to the hospital he should be goin'. Mind me words!"

"But he plades so to wait till the mornin'. Sez he's sure that the friend will be here; such a good friend, he sez, though he knows when he comes he'll be blamin' for things that was done long ago. Ah, Mrs. Mulvey, me dear, if you'ze heard him a-whisperin' like: 'The city-shall we be goin' to the city? If I write and I can-and it sells but they won't buy my things! I've triedand they won't buy my things-' Then he moans like a child, Mrs. Mulvey, a child that's been shut in the darkabout 'dures locked,' and 'lights out,'

and the wind blowin' and the rain, and bein' at sea in a storm. You mind, Mrs. Mulvey, whin the elevator goes t'underin' by how the house does be shakin'? Sez he: "Tis the big waves a-comin' to wash me away!' the poor man-"

"If I was yourself, Mrs. Galloon, and 'tis as a fri'nd that I spake, I'd be in that room before twelve. Go on up. I'll finish me tay and be wid yez." So the landlady knocked. Called. Knocked again louder. No sound came from within except the "rack-rack-rack" of the blind in the wind. Again she called. The man answered. His voice clear, tremulous with joy. "Friend-I hear you, I hear you knocking! WaitI'll open the door-I'll—”

Creak of the bed. Swift steps. The bolt clicks. The door is thrown open. An elevated train is roaring by. Against the fleeting light of the coaches the landlady sees a form looming black, arms outspread, groping. The form totters. Falls.

Mrs. Galloon shrieks: "Mrs. Mulveyfor God's sake!" Mrs. Mulvey, breathless from the climb, turns up the gas. The two old women are on their knees, feeling for the heart-beats, the wrist. "I'll run for the cop, Mrs. Galloon!"

"Little use, Mrs. Mulvey. Yez t'ought he was foolin' me. Look at the face of him-the smile on it-God rest his soul! A smile like he'd met wid his friend. Oho, the poor man, oho-ho!"