Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 January 1910 — Page 2

THE DAILY REPUBLICAN i Every Bay Bxceet Sunday. rgblishers. RENSSELAER, INDIANA!

WASHINGTON FARMER'S HOUSE.

latcrlor PanUklnx 1h Native Weoda- Paxmlc* with Mirror*. Among the strangest houses on record perhaps in the United States is that of Alexander Stuart of Waitsburg, a one-time farmer, the Spokane Spokesman Review says. He has ■pent the best part of two years in personally supervising the construction of his residence, which when coml'leted will be one of the finest examples of interior finishing in the northwest, resplendent in mosaic floors of oak, mahogany and maple, shining with thirty plate glass mirrors which weigh nearly half a top, and glowing with the dark red of fir, finished irt .imitation of mahogany, To outward appearance the house is an ordinary two and a half story residence of the better type on an ordinary street in an ordinary but prettycountry town. Once within, however, the eyes are dazzled with elegance, which even in the unfinished state is everywhere apparent The floors are of rare parquetry design, with the elegant “rug finish.” The design runs through living room, dining room, hall and parlor, though no two rooms are floored In the same design. The baseboards, door facings, etc., are of curly fir, with the grain brought out clearly in deep red mahogany stain. Pine pressed beadwork adorns all the edrners, giving a sense of riotous richness. The walls are In hard white plaster, their simplicity contrasting sharply with the gorgeousness of the wood finishing. The sliding doors between hall and dining room are of plate glass panels of the finest grinding and polish, and this scheme has been carried out in all the important doors, both upstairs and down. Between dining room and kitchen the door is merely of plate glass and transparent. The windows, even In the back kitchen, are of enormously heavy French bevelled glass, so dear that one is hardly conscious of their presence. At every turn the visitor will be met by his own image, advancing or retreating or siding away from him at an angle. From one point in the parlor a person can stand and see all the pefsohs and objects in the dining •room and even into the kitchen. Upstairs several bedrooms are finished in the parquet flooring and stained imitation of mahogany as below. They are spacious and well lighted, the same grade of glass being used here as elsewhere. In the attic are three servants’ rooms, reached by a stairway of highly polished mahogany steps uncarpeted. A Masonic design on a tiny light placed in the front gable will also peep down at the passerby from its high rest. There is a special switch in the attic for turning on and off this gable light. In the basement heavy glass doors separate the apartments, which are well finished in cement floors and white hard plastered walls.

ART OF ACTING.

Rome Opinions from the Great Ital- ' tan Actor, Toamuo Salvini. Just how far t£e stage is universal and, on the other hand, how far the expression of human emotion and passion is conditioned by race training and national life, is discussed by the famous Italian actor, Tommaso Salvini, in a long, analytical article which appears in a recent number of the Suddeutsche Monatschrifte of Munich, the New York Times says. No matter how highly educated an audience may be, says Sig. Salvlni, it will "only with difficulty be seized in Its innermost heart by a passion foreign to its mode of living.” In general, according to Sig. Salvini, French actors are true in the art of acting “only within a certain sphere; if that sphere is overstepped—i. e., if a certain passion becomes dramatic, serious and violent—they assume a declamatory manner which we Italians consider as being in bad taste. “Of course, I concede exceptions. As far as we are concerned, we are, while in general not especially clever and effective In comedy, more true in drama and tragedy. The Germans are ( much more diligent than the actors of the Latin people. They penetrate much more deeply into the parts they play, and execute them exactly, but they lack the fire and grace of representation." English men and women also, we are told, have the same excellent points and same faults. , "With them everything is form and accurateness in the representation of characters. They are extremely conscious and exact in their delivery, well versed in everything that concerns decorations and costumes, but there is hardly found among them a vivid Impulse, fire or spontaneity of artistic feeling. They have had great actors as, for example, Garrick, Macready, Kemble, Edmund Kean and, finally, Irving. Such artists, however, have been satisfied to obtain the applause of a public that spoke the same language and had the same tendency of mind an themselves.” The proper investigators and pioneers of dramatic art, the Italian star maintains, are the Italians and the Frenchmen. To them has been given the honor to have been appreciated and to have gained applause in the whole civilised world, and, while using

their own language, to have appeared toother with actors that spoke another idiom.

TRUE TO HIS PROMISE.

He Got Ready to Hake Her Shelve* ha Sooa a* Possible. When Mrs, Horton engaged Homer Riggs to make her a set of shelves for her summer kitchen, she endeavored to extract from him a promise that he would do the work within two weeks. But this, although she tried hard, she found to be an impossible task. ' “I can’t be pinned down to a certain day; ma’am,” said Mr. Riggs, with dignity, “for nobody can tell what may befall ’em. I’ll do the best I can for ye, that’s all,” sad Mrs. Horton was forced to content herself with that. When, two days later, Mr. Riggs accosted her on the postoffice steps, and said that he had “been over to Leighton’s sawmill, and seen jest the boards for her work,” she felt somewhat encouraged. But after that day of hope five weeks slipped by with no news from the shelves, and only toftr nods and elusive replies from the one carpenter in Bushby. Then Mrs. Horton ventured to inquire how her work was progressing, but she got scant satisfaction. At the beginning of the sixth week she was summoned to the door one day to see Mr. Riggs, whose wagon, in which reposed several boards, stood at her gate. “I’m expecting to get at your shelves this afternoon* if ’tisn’t too hot,” said Mr. Riggs, “I thought maybe you’d like to know. I’ve got the boards I spoke to ye about in now,” with a jerk of his thumb toward the wagon. “May I ask why you have waited six weeks before getting them?” inquired Mrs. Horton, in her most freezing tone, which was wasted on Homer Riggs. “Why, ’twas like this,” he said, placidly. “I see ’em, as I tpjd you, an’ I kep’ my eye on ’em. They were at the bottom of a pile, an’ trade’s been slack oyer to Leighton’s this spring, same as everywheres else. But the boards did work off gradual, an’ day before yesterday, when I was over there, Leighton said to me, ‘You come over in a couple o’ days, Homer, an’ those boards’ll he clear.’ And so’s not to keep ye waitin’ a minute more’n was needful, I harnessed up to-day just on the chance, an’ theluck was with me.” —Youth’s Companion.

An Underground City.

Russian explorers have made a singular and most interesting discovery of a subterranean city in Central Asia. In Turkestan, on the right bank of the Amu Darya, In a chain of rocky hills near the Bokharan town of Karki, are a number of large caves, which upon examination were found to lead to an underground city, built, apparently, long before the Christian era. According to the effigies, inscriptions and designs upon the gold and silver money unearthed from among the ruins, the existence of the town dates back to some two centuries before the birth of Christ. The edifices contain all kinds of domestic utensils, pots, urns and vases. The high degree of civilization attained by the inhabitants of the city is shown by the fact that they built In several stories; by the symmetry of the streets and squares, and by the beauty of the baked clay and metal utensils, and of the ornaments and coins which have been found. It is supposed that long centuries ago this city, so carefully concealed In the bowels of the earth, provided large numbers of people with a refuge from the incursions of nomadic savages and robbers.

The Raven Revised.

Once upon a morning foggy, while I loitered, grouched and groggy, Over biscuits that were soggy, and an egg that was a hare. While I dawdled, almost dreaming, and my coffee ceased from steaming, Suddenly there came a screamingscreaming never heard before. “ 'Tis some suffragette,” I muttered, “screaming at my outer door; Just a noise, and nothing more.” —Chicago Tribune.

Streams of Light.

One night we were in a dense crowd watching a parade, when during one of those unaccountable lulls which so often occur in large crowds a little fellow who was perched high up on his father’s shoulder shouted: “Oh, papa, you ought to see! Way in the street they ayq just squirting light all over the people.”—Delineator.

Rather Opposlte.

“Do you think your son will be an able factor in elevating the standard of living?” "Able nothing! He will do more In the line of raising Cain.”—Baltimore American.

A civic Care.

"Twigsly uses a lot of long words, doesn’t he?" "Yes, but I’ll tell you how you can make him use short ones.” "How?” “Make him mad."

Inconsistent.

“He vowed he would love me always, no matter what 'happened.” "Well?” "And got mad five minutes later be oause I had a pin in my belt.”

One Free Performance Due.

French theaters receiving government subsidy are obliged to give a free performance every year. Good behavior may be rather oldfashioned, but yon never heard of It getting a man into trouble.

TRUMPET CALLS.

Ram’* Horn Sound* a Warming Not* ■ to the Unredeemed.

A j a ck r a tyb'i t looks bigger to a little boy than a hion does to his father. The man who b&s big trees to cut down will not lose any time by grinding his ax before he begins to make the chips fly.

If we all knew better we would often do better. Beauty in the heart writes its name on the face. It may to fast, but it is wrong to look as if you did. The older the Christian the newer he ought to find God’s book. It is doubtful if there is a millionaire in the world to-day whom an angel would call rich. There is no promise in the Bible for thf man who is not willing to trust in the Lord and do right. The most commonplace things would be as full of interest as fairy tales if we knew enough about them. It is all right to weep with those who weep, but it is just as important to rejoice with those who rejoice.

REFORM IN ORPHAN ASYLUM.

■Social Barrier in Versailles (Ky.) Institute Palled Down. From the beginning Mrs. Kate Van Der Veer, head of the Cleveland Orphan asylum at Versailles, Ky., determined there should be no harrier to set her girls apart from the rest of the community as charity children, says Mabel Potter Daggett in the Delineator. So she took off their uniforms and sent them to the public school. Versailles was aghast at first. But she insisted: "Why not? My girls are as nice and sweet as yours!” This month, she told me with pride, there were fifteen of them on the honor roll that is,, published in the Versailles newspaper. As they go along to school together you would not know Mrs. Van Der Veer’s "daughters” from the others, unless by the fact that their percales are a trifle daintier and their butterfly hair ribbons a trifle fresher. I have seen her as she critically looks them over before starting for school. A loving hand pushes back soft waves of hair and kindly eyes scan scrutinizingly for any small area of demarcation. - “Oh, Marie,” she says, "you will have to wash your neck again.” “Louise, here’s a button coming off. Hurry, dear, and you’ll just about have time to sew it on.” “Jennie, I believe you’d better get a fresh handkerchief.” Meanwhile she is deftly pulling out a little starched skirt here and tilting a hat there at a more becoming angle for the bright face beneath. At last they are all off in order. At the gate they turn with a flutter of waving hands and across the morning a carol of fresh young voices is calling goodby. The lady on the piazza waves back. Then she stands with her hand shading her eyes, to watch them as far as she can see up the street to the town. "Arn’t they just dears?” she asks, turning with a smiling face. “I expect I have to be a little more particular with mine than most mothers are. Every little while I ask them, ‘Tell me, dears, are your dresses just as pretty as the other girls?’ And when there are new’textbooks to be bought I promptly see to it that they have theirs on timte. I’m not going to have any one point to them and say, ‘Because they are orphans.’ I don’t even like any one to call them that. We had a preacher in this town who from the pulpit once prayed the Lord to bless ‘the orphans.’ They never would go inside his church after that, and I was glad they wouldn’t.”

TAX ANOMALY IN MICHIGAN.

Many Acre* of Land in Marquette County Have No Owner. A peculiar situation with respect to delinquent tax lands exists in Marquette County, a Detroit dispatch to the New York Herald says. There are very large tracts which properly belong to the commonwealth, yet no part of them is included in the public domain. No lands delinquent fox taxes in this county have been formally deeded to the State since 1884. In consequence the county treasurer’s office is lumbered up wth a large number of delinquent land descriptions, on some of which taxes have not been paid since 1881. All these descriptions are offered for sale eaoh year, but no buyers have been forthcoming, and not infrequently the total taxes now charged against the descriptions run into the thousands of dollars. There are 1,600 descriptions delinquent for taxes on record in the treasurer’s office, of which 665 descriptions became delinquent prior to 1906 and could be deeded to the State. These descriptions wity probably average eighty acres each, which means that there are in the neighborhood of 53,000 acres in this county which are properly part of the public domain, but which, as a matter of fact, are not owned by the commonwealth or anybody else. The lands will doubtless be deeded to the State in due time, and will be put on the market, but for the present, with the accumulation of unpaid taxes charged against them, they are unsalable.

DIFFICULT LOVE LETTERS.

Bone People Hake Extremely Hard Hard Work of Them. The maid had burned her hand, and the daughter of the house, a young girl in her earliest teens, was writing a letter at her dictation. She was glad to do bo, both because she was naturally obliging, and because the letter was to Bridget’s Patrick. To be personally concerned in the compo3ion of a love letter seemed to her extremely interesting and exciting. The letter, as dictated, did not, however, meet her expectations. It was a tame chronicle of petty news, ahd even at that Bridget wrung each sentence, with long pauses and exhausted sighs, from a painfully reluctant brain. Half-way down the first page she glanced over the shoulder of hexyoung amanuensis. “It’s doing fine ye are,” she at nounced, gratefully, “and most to the end, now, Miss Gertrude. Sure, Patrick should be pleased.” “But, Bridget,’’ protested Miss Gertrude, in dismay, "you’ve hardly told him anything at all, and they’re things that don’t matter, anyway—-and—well, he’r your sweetheart, isn’t he? And there isn’t a single word to show you’re fond of him!” Bridget settled back wearily to re sume her mental labors, and then brightened. “Sure, Miss Gertrude, dear,” she wheedled, “just sprinkle in the love to your suit.” 1 - Miss Gertrude did so, and it-Is to be hoped -that it. suited Patrick also. But she considered her first experience with lovers outside of storybooks distinctly disappointing.

Bvm less ardent in overcoming the difficulties of composition was the negro who, as a writer In the Atlanta Constitution relates, asked hie “boss,” Colonel Kerger, to write a letter for him to his sweetheart. “All right, Sam, I’ll do it,” agreed the colonel. “Has yer got de paper and de ink and de pen ready, sah?” “Yes, Sam, go ahead.” “Write Thompson Street, New York.” “All right.”' “Has yer got hit written?” “Yes.” “All o-b hit?” “Certainly.” “What has yer got written? Read it to me, boss.” “Thompson Street, New York.” “Dat’s right. Now write May de fourteen*.” “Yes.” “Has yer got it down, boss, already?” “Yea” “G’way, boss, You’re jokin’! Read it to me.” “May 14th.” “Mah goodness, you has got hit down' all right! Now, boss, read hit all over from de berry beginning.” ‘‘Thompson Street, New York, May 14th." “Dat’s right. Whew! Say, boss, let’s res’ a While; I’s tired. My head aches like hit was gwineter split.”

ARABS AT THEIR BATH.

Gathering Place for the Women— Votive Offerings by Religions. Dr. Georges Martin of the thermal station of Hamman-Rirha gives an interesting account of Che Arabs who came in crowds to take the baths at that station. Their number every year can be estimated at more than 20,000. The London Globe says of these bathers about two-thirds are women. Eesides the medical effect the baths are for the Arab woman a meeting place where she encounters her friends, as they remain a long time in the baths, three-quarters of an hour or more. They dip themselves in the water from time to time; then, sitting •on the curb, they chat, laugh and slug. Sometimes one of them addresses an invocation to the Sultan Sliman (Solo min), patron of the springs hidden in the mountain. The more believing sometimes receive their recompense in seeing the steam rise from the waters.. After the bath the iiative rolls himself In his cloak and lies in the sun. To quench the burning thirst which the very warm bath gives Arabs suck the juice of lemons or oranges or they go to the "case maure” attached to the baths to drink a tiny cup of coffee. Many Arabs, instead of coming to the establishment, prefer to take the bath In the open air. On the side of the hill a spring flows from the rock and the natives come to bathe in the natural basin where the water gushes out. As a votive offering the women hang portions of their veils on the neighboring bushes. The childless come hert piously, to plunge In their small stuffed dolls. It is there that the prayer is above all agreeable to Sldl Sliman. They sacrifice fowls to him, they burp incense and spices In the earthern braziers, and it is in his honor that the little many colored wax taper* stuck in the ground burn so often at night

His Impression of the Teat.

Small Edgar had accompanied his mother to church and upon his return home his grandmother asked him if he oottld repeat the text ’Sure,” answered Edgar. ‘“Consider the lilies of the field, they quarrel not, neither do .they swim.’ ”

Spiral Wire Hoops for Kegs.

Spiral .wire hoops now take the place of wooden hoops on barrels and kegs. Money may not make the mo jt but take some men’s money from them and there would be nothing left 27 ..

YOUNG FOLKS

Bast Say* “Ball.” This is a game in which no one is allowed to smile and laugh. All-the players except one sit in a row or halfcircle; one goes out of the room and returns with a 'Stick or poker in his hand, and a grave and solemn face. He is supposed to have just returned from a visit to Buff. The first player <|sks him: “Where do you come from?” “From Buff.” ___ <t The next asks: “Did lie say anything to you?” To which the reply is: “Buff said ‘Baff.’ - And he gave me this staff. Telling me neither to smile nor to laugh. Buff says ‘Baff’ to all his men, And I say ‘Baff’ to you again. And he neither laughs no smiles, In spite of all your cunning wiles. But carries his face with a very good grace, And passes his staff to the-very next place.” If he can repeat all this without laughing he delivers up his staff to some one else, and takes his seat; but if he laughs, or even smiles, he pays a forfeit before giving it up.

The Family Tree*. .y* A great many years ago Polly and Amy Ann weDt to school together. School “kept” all summer, with just one holiday on the Fourth of_ July. The schoolhouse looked like a square black box.. There were no trees round it and no grass, for ths" children’s feet, playing tag and leap-frog, had worn the ground as hard as a floor. The other children ate their luncheon in a little crowd on t\e door step, but' Polly and Amy Ann knew a pleasanter place. It a secret; they iiever told anybody. Just behind the schoolhouse was a beautiful meadow, belonging to Amy Ann’s father. Through the meadow tan a brook, with little fishes in the bottom and blue flag along the edge, and by the brook grew an elder bush. Polly and Amy Ann called this bush their house, and under it they always ate their dinner. There was only one trouble. The bush was just a little bit too small to them. both. If Polly’s head was In the shadow. Amy Ann’s pink sunbonnet was in the sun. “Wish we could build a wing to our house!” said Polly. —“Why,-so we ean! ” -cried -Amy Ann, nodding her bonnet excitedly. “Let’s we do it! Two of ’em!” The little bonnets bent close together while they planned It all out. After school Amy Ann borrowed her father’s spade, and they set off for the woods. There' they found two baby elm trees and they dug them up with the wee tiny roots and all. They planted the little trees by their playhouse —Amy Ann’s on one side of the brook and Polly’s on the other. They did not know that they were keeping Arbor day, for It had never been heard of then So they had no singing nor speeches; only the little wren that lived In the elder hush kept saying: “Chirp! Chirp!” And her nine children poked their little brown heads over the edge of the nest and said, “Chirp!” all in concert The little trees grew and grew; so

OUR BEST MARKSMEN.

Ancle Sam Annually Conduct* Great RlHe Matche* (or Hl* Soldier*. The groat national rifle matches which are held annually were established by Congress, which provided the trophy, and the expenses are borne almost entirely by the government. Few persons not familiar with rifle practice have any clear Idea of the great work entailed in running off these events. They are shot under the auspices of the National Board for Promotion of Rifle Practice and under the direction of the War Department. They draw together the 1,000 best marksmen In the United States; they require the services of a thousand regular troops and 100 army officers. They Bet the high-water mark in military rifle shooting, and are, therefore, of considerable importance to the oountry. These matches consist of a national team match, a national individual rifle match and a national pistol match. The first Is open to teams of twelve, representing the infantry, cavalry, navy, marine corps, military and naval academies and the organized militia of the several States and Territories. The individual rifle and pistol matches are open to all citizens of the United States. There are no entrance fees and Congress provides liberal prizes. All matches are shot with the current military arm of the United States, and the government furnishes the ammunition for the matches and for preliminary practice. The expense of training the teams and sending them to the matches is borne by the States and Territories from the 150,000 annually appropriated by Congress for rifle practice in the National Guartl. The gathering together of the Shota In the country, the testing -pf ammunition, the Ideas exchanged and the stimulus given to rifle practice Is worth more than the matches cost many times over. Lieut Col. R. K. Evans, executive i - * v

did Polly and Amy Ann They got to be young ladles, then middle-aged ladies, and then old ladies Nobody called them Polly and Amy Ann now;, they were Grandma White and Grandma Grant " Grandma White lived a long way from Grandma Grant and the meadow and the old schoolhouse But she did not forget them, and there was no story that her little Amy liked so well as the story of the two little elm tree?' and the nine little wrens. So when Grandma White went to visit Grandma Grant she had to take Amy with her: ~r You should have seen how happy the two grandmothers were! And you should have seed what fun little Amy and little Polly had together! And how the first thing they all did was to go down into the meadow to look at the little elms. But they were not little elms any longer: They were tall, beautiful trees, and they held out their long green arms to each other over the little brook. “What is it that says, “Chirp, chirp?” asked the little girls. They looked up and saw a little wren’s nest in the tree. ~ = “Perhaps these are the grandchildren of the wren that lived in the elder bush,” said the grandmothers. “‘This must be their family tree.”— Youth’s Companion. Tired Out.

British Humor. y Here is a recent example of British humor. It is taken from a London periodical; “An old gentleman known for his silence, was driving over Putney bridge*- whea -bo- -asked- his -csaehmaHt‘Do you like eggs, James?’ “ ‘Yes, sir,’ replied the man, and hpre the conversation stopped. “A year after, passing over the bridge again, the old gentleman turned to the man, saying, ‘How?’ “ ‘Poached, sir,’ was the instant reply.” The Jelly-Fish. I wish I had a jelly-fish, A sympathetic jelly-fish, A cultivated, gentle Jelly-fish To live at home with me. I’d feed him from a silver dish A most artistic silver dish, A highly polished silver dish And give him toast and tea. I’d always be polite and kind, I’d try to cultivate his mind. Oh, don’t you, won’t you, try to find A jelly-fish for me?

officer ol the last three matches, is now at. the war college drawing up his report of the matches for 1909, which were held at Camp Perry, Ohio, last August„ It is. .significant of the importance of these matches that the work is continuous. By the time the report for one year is at hand, preparations for the next year’s matches Is under way. As soon as outdoor practice ends the iidoor practice begins, and a team no sooner reaches home than aspirants for the next yeear’s team are put In training.

Self-Restraint.

Ellen stopped scrubbing the veranda steps long enough to cast an admiring eye on her employer’s garden, “Sure they are fine posies ye have, doctor," she said. “I’ve a neat little house I bought tfith the money I’d put by, and an elegant garden It had last year, too, but now there's neither stick nor stalk In It.” “What was K, hens or dogs?” asked the doctor, sympathetically mentioning his own aversiona^* “Sure me neighbor—bad luck to her! •—had a ditch dug in her land, and tho water ran down into me garden, and washed all me seeds away.” “And what did you do about It?" “What could a poor lone body like me do?” "Well, didn’t you at least say something to the woman, complain or tell her that you wouldn’t stand It?” "Now, doctor, dear, hard wqrds Just leads to bad feelings among neighbors, and that ye know as well as I do; andi it’s not me that would be using them. So I only sahl'to her, ‘I hope I'll live to see the floods flowing over your grave as your ditch-waters have flowed over me garden,’ and I let It p .of that.” ; , . T . . Ty'; It’s awfully hard for a widower to convince his children that they need a new mother, A man can coax a woman to do any, thing she wants to.