Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 January 1910 — Page 2

THE DAILY REPUBLICAN Every Day Except Sunder. —— 1 1 .-iT-j'.ra;.'.. HEALEY & ClftHK, Pablisher* m i ■■>■! IMM —.l .. 11 IL!' ■■■ ll ■L L• “5-

THE PERENNIAL ALBUM.

la One Form or Aaotker It H*» Kxtatod for Moor Year*. "There are times,” tbe departing kuest remarked, pensively, to her husband, as she closed the guest book, "when I wish the economy o( the universe had been such that I might have been my own great-great-grandmoth-«r.** — : r—- : "Yon would have to go several ceSr turies back for that,” her husband replied, with the sympathetic comprehension of a fellow victim. "I ->aw in a collection the other day an autograph album middle ages. It wasn’t so very different from those that the girls passed round at school when I was a youngster. s "It was open to the drawing of a knight in armor, and It reminded me of Dick Barron’s donkeys—pen and Ink, done while you wait, with his autograph in the tail. They became so popular that Dick finally charged five cents an autograph, in self defense. He was the one boy in school who didn’t grit his teeth when he saw an album coming. He made enough out of them to buy a pair of white rats. Dick was always a lucky fellow. I’ve wondered since seeing the gentleman In armor If It was some Dick Barron of the middle ages who invented albums.” Whoever invented them, they seem to lead a flourishing. If protean, existence. The old albums of our greatgrandmothers, their delicately embossed covers enclosing pages of sentiment In exquisite hair-line penmanship, gave way to the smaller and far less formal albums of a generation ago—the kind that were passed from hand to hand In the cloak room, and were not sentimental. Mental photograph albums followed, with their harrowing questions as to one's favo/ite names and ideals. Guest books swiftly appeared In their train, making large demands upon the clever of finger or nimble of wit, and causing corresponding depression to those who, in a sentiment popular in their school days, "thought and thought and thought in vain, and thought at last they’d sign their name.” After such brain-racking experiences, the blind-pig album offered genuine solace; In the matter of drawing pigs with one’s eyes closed, the human race, it seemed, was pretty evenly gifted. The latest arrival Is the ghost album, in which one makes a "ghost” by writing his autograph—very heavy—and folding and blotting It, the result in the majority of cases resembling a cross between a centipede and a skeleton. This also has the advantage of being comparatively painless to both intellect (gad vanity. What Is the secret of the perennial existence of the autograph album? Curiosity? Imitation? Or Is it the genuine desire to keep a record of happy hours? If the latter, then there is hone that some one will yet Invent a form of record that shall be at the same time so artistic and individual as to he a joy to the possessor, and so alluring as to be a pleasure to the —possessed. If this seems a trifle difficult, a result that can be reached only by the slow process of evolution, after all, friendship is worthy even so great a sacrifice as submission to the demands of guest book and album. —Youth’s Companion.

DANUBE A RHINE TRIBUTARY.

f'Hak of Nature by Which Baden Gain* and Wnrttemberff Lose*. A diplomatic dispute of a kind without precedent is engaging the politicians of Wurttemberg and of the grancl duchy of Baden. It arises, says the London Daily Mail, from a freak of nature consisting in the fact that the Danube, though rising on the other side of the watershed, is nevertheless proved to discharge the greater part of the water in its first stretch into the Rhine. This arises from the fact that the Danube is subject to a serious leakage. Just before It crosses the frontier of Wurttemberg, where it breaks through the Swabian Jura, the greater of the water in the river disappears through the clefts in the rocks. For hundreds of years this escape of water has been increasing and at present the river immediately below Immerdlngen is almost dry in rammer. For a long time it was a mystory •whither the Danube escaped, but experiments made thirty years ago proved that the water again reached the surface twelve kilometers away, where it was the source of the River Aach, which flows into the Lake of Constance near the point where the Rhine Issues from the lake. This naturail freak, which is stated to have no parallel on earth, is entirely to the advantage of the grand duchy of Baden, as the Aach runs through its * territory, whereas the dried-up part of the Danube lies in the territory o< Wurttemberg. The Wurttemberg government has in vain tried to get the Baden government to wall up the clefts through which the Danube escapes, but without effect, as the diminution which must result In the volume of the Aach would cause Baden considerable loss. Owing to the discovery of yet « second strange freak of nature, the situation has now suddenly changed. It has been discovered that the Danube, after it has recovered Us loss of wa-

tei" In AVurttemberg territory, is subject to another great leakage near F; idijgen, and that the a’a ter which escapes runs underground for twenty .kilometers, and, like the first leakage, atec runs into the Aach, and theo.ce 'into the Rhine. Experiments •by ailttag and coloring the watve proved this beyond dispute. 'i ba people of Wurttemberg are reStic?,! by the discovery. Their govemm bat now declares to the government of Baden that unless It stops the leakage on Baden territory this newly dix-n -red leak will also be stopped, so that in -n- case the Aach must lose much or is water and the flood of the Meamvh,i-e local- mnu of science are puzzling tbr-ir heads i. to where exactly run dirty kilometers of undergtoifbT Danb.T- The possibility is that •ae river . .. ..w .gh .tremendous raves and grottoes. Dr. von Uslar, a local “landrat,” is attempting to solve the problem by means of a divining rod. . .

KEPT MULES ON THE MOVE.

Hitched to Speeding; Automobile, Team Had Time of Their Lives. Here is a story from Manhattan with vaudeville features, not to mention the hard luck; A farmer living on Deep Creek, several miles east of Manhattan, had a thrilling experience with an automobile and a team of mules. The farmer recently had purchased a new machine, and on one of his first trips tried to cross the creek at a ford. He put the clutch at high speed and waded in. For some reason the engine went dead in midstream. Cranking failed to revive it. After a number of useless efforts, the farmer secured a team of mules, hitched them to the stubborn auto and dragged the machine across the creek and up the bank. The driver had left the clutch on at high speed, and from some unaccountable cause as soon as the machine was on level road the engine suddenly revived, the machine started forward with a bound and struck the mules squarely in their kicking apparatus. There was something doing immediately thereafter. The mules started off full lilt with the machine chugging after them; the driver being occupied with the .mules, could not give the machine much attention. The machine was soon going on the heels again and again. Both team and machine became unmanageable; but the mules suddenly jumped to one side, bringing the machine sharply around and causing It to strike a bank of earth, thus bringing the strange runaway to an abrupt end.— Kansas City Journal,

An Unlucky Debut.

Stage fright is a disease from which not all experienced actors are free. What wonder, therefore, that it ravages the amateurs? A particularly distressing case is reported from New Orleans by a writer in Success. The Shakespeare Club of that city used to give theatrical performances, notable for the local prominence of the actors. Once, a social celebrity, with a gorgeous costume, as one of the lords In waiting, had only four words to say: “The queen has swooned.” As he stepped forward, his friends applauded vociferously. Bowing his thanks, he faced the king and said, in a very high-pitched voice, “The swoon has queened.” There was a roar of laughter; but he waited patiently, and made another attempt : ~— “The sween has quooned.” Again the walls trembled, and the stage manager said, in a voice which could be heard all over the house, “Come off, you fool!” But the ambitious amateur refused to surrender, and in a rasping falsetto, as he was assisted off the stage, he screamed, “The quoon has sweened!"

Writing a Novel.

Some writers, I have heard It said, Prefer to do their work in bed. At times, I s’pose. They gently doze; At others, go full steam ahead. It seems to be a pleagant game, And if a fellow tried the same Perhaps he might Snooze over night And wake some morn to sudden fame. —Louisville Courier-Journal.

A Student of Human Nature.

“That was a pretty harsh note Mr. Clincher sent you." “Yes,” answered the debonnair debtor. “But he didn’t mean most of It. He has Just employed a new stenographer. When he dictated that letter he was showing off.’’—Washington Star.

Episcopal Anatomy.

"Our dear bishop looks very stiff and dignified,” remarked old Mrs. Croxley; "but I assure you he has a warm, kfnd heart beating beneath bis gaiters.”— TR-Bits.

Four Votes for Her Candidate.

Cook—Ye’ll vote like I vote —you and the young leddies—or I’ll quit ye. "Merciful heavens! And the Van Damms expected on Thursday!"—Life.

Caused Suspicion.

“Looks like a good man," said Hawkins. “But great Scott! When I shook hands It sounded like I was shaking dice.” —Harper’s Weekly. About the poorest excuse of a mother we know of is one who sendß her children to annoy the neighbors while she gives a street parade. There is always one weak link in a chain of circumstances. Queer people are those whose actions are diffeirent from ours.

GOOD SHORT STORIES

Frederick the Great, wishing to humiliate his physician, asked, “How many men, my doctor, have yon sent Into the other world?” "Not nearly so many as your majesty,” was the retort; “but with infinitely less glory.” The young married man had been on the road about a year. He had just told his wife that the firm had given him a position in tbe store and he would not have to travel any more. ‘Oh, won’t that be fine, George,” she exclaimed. “Now we’ll be married again and settle down!” One of the New * Jersey representatives in Congress, very much addicted to apparel of the variety known as “loud,” was on his way to the Capttol one day when he encountered Senator Depew. “If yeu’re going to the Capitol,” said the Senator, “we might as well walk together.” “I’m not going there just yet,” said the Representative. “I must first stop to see my tailor about a new overcoat:” “The tailor!” exclaimed Mr. Depew. in mock astonishment. “Why, it has always been my understanding that you were clothed by a costumer!” Mrs. Finletter and her husband had Just moved into a flfteen-dollar sevenroom house. The first Sunday morning there, as Mr. Finletter sat with his newspaper on his little porch, and all the neighbors on both sides of the street sat with their newspapers on their little porches, Mrs. Finletter suddenly came to the front door and shouted at her husband in a loud, vexed tone: "Hilary Finletter, will you or will you not come in to luncheon? The champagne is nearly flat and you know how soon a dish of ter i rapln gets cold!” Finletter tossed down the comic section and hurried indoors with a dazed smile. “What are you kidding me for?” he asked as he looked at the rump steak and potatoes on the dining table. “It’s not you, Hilary, I’m kidding,” said his wife; “It’s the neighbors.” The car was crowded, but all the women had seats. On the platform was a middle-aged man, apparently respectable. On a side seat was a girl In old rose, with cheeks to match. The man on the platform caught her eye for a moment, and threw a frantic kiss. The girl first smiled, then blushed furiously. He threw another, and she turned away a crimsoned face. “That will about do for you,” said the big, rawboned conductor. "Go home to your wife.” This didn’t seem to worry the apparently respectable man, and, catching a glint from the girl’s eyes, he threw another kiss. She turned her face to study carefully a toque hat across the car. At the Manhattan end of the bridge the girl rose to leave the car. The man who was trying to flirt with her also faced the sliding door. By that time all eyes were on the pair, the conductor was mad all through and a couple of passengers edged dangerously close. The girl in old rose took the arm of the apparently respectable man, and said in a silvery voice that all could hear: “Oh, papa, how could you!” Then everybody laughed at a joking father and a lovely daughter.

JOE PULITZER’S TURNING POINT

Negro Porter’* Brutality Induced Him to Take Greeley’s Advice. It was a midsummer evening in the troublous year of 1864 that Joseph Pulitzer, a tall, lean, fair-haired boy Just landed from an Immigrant Ship at Boston, took lodgings In a cheap hotel In the German quarter of New York, a writer In the American Magazine says. The landlord assigned him to a room and changed a 20-franc piece ■with which the hoy paid him. That 20-franc piece was all the money the boy possessed. It was gone before he found a job. An empty wagon, a park bench, became his bed; the skj his blanket. It was natural that the far contagion should seize upon this lad. The spirit of adventure had turned his back on his home in a little village near Budapest, Hungary, where he was born April 10, 1847, the son of a Jew father. Militarism had been rampant in Vienna, where he had received most of his education. Two of his mother’s brothers were officers in the Austrian army. One of them had distinguished himself in Mexico under Maximilian’s banners. Only a couple of months previously the boy had thrown his tutor out of a window because he objected to having arithmetic forced upon him when there was so much history and so many tales of war to be read. He ran away to Paris and tried to enlist In the Legion Etranger. He was declined because of defective eyesight. He then tried to/enlist in London, and a second time his eyes proved the undoing of his martial aspirations. The enlisting officers in New York weren’t so particular about eyes, and In September, 1864, Joseph Pulitzer went to war as k private dragoon In the First New York Cavalry, which was known also as the Lincoln Cavalry. He served with the army of the Shenandoah until peace was declared la the following year and he was honorably discharged In Washington. When the war was over, Joseph Pulitzer drifted back to New York. That winter became so bad that he contemplated ‘tramping to New Bedford and shipping in the whaling fleet. Horace Greeley, In whose life la a

few years this alien was to play an im* portent role, was thundering Jtls "Go West, young man; go West!” 5 / It Is doubtful, if Joseph Pulitzer would have barkened to the Western cry had it net been for an incident which was destined to make one of the big high lightß in the picture of his dramatic life. In those days French’s Hotel stood at Frankfort street and Park row, on the present site of “the building With the gilded dome.” A homely, fat-bdlied stove in the hotel lobby tempted many a starvng unfortunate. Joseph Pulitzer knew 1 the cheery warmth of that stove, was as fastidious then as now. He discovered that having his boots poliished and his faded blue uniform brnshed by the bootblacks at French’s gave him a certain standing in the eyes of the servants, who would pass him by to eject others. The day came when a husky porter ended all this by incontinently kicking the boy into the middle of Park row. Humiliated and stung to the soul, the boy lifted himself out of tbe street and In that hour his decision was made. He was done with New York, he thought. '* That porter in French’s was a wonderful kicker. The kick with which he landed Joseph Pulitzer out of doors was twenty-two years long. When Its impulse ceased the abject of its attack was able to put his name to a check for $630,000, seize unto himself French’s Hotel and all therein contained.

TWO VIEWS OF MOTHERHOOD.

“Stone-Woman” of Tokyo Would Be Fuhlonxble Person in New York. Some years ago an American friend and I were passing through a street in the city of Tokyo, says Adachl Kinnosuke in the Delineator, We came upon a gateway which smiled like a May-day festival, and, like it, was full of people. “What’s ai, this fuss about?” my friend" asked me. Have they hit a gold mine?” No; they had not. To the good people the occasion meant a deal more than the discovery of gold. It was the coming of a baby. The proud parents were sending out messengers into the four corners of the city announcing the glad tidings of exceeding great joy. And I told my American friend.

“Do your people make such a fuss about a baby? Babies are born every day in this country, aren’t they?” Which was true. But we look upon this matter entirely in a different way. It may be that this Is one of the relics of the past, but we put emphasis upon the continuation of a family line. Confucius, whose ghost is much more powerful in Japan to-day than all the prophets and philosophers now living put together, made childlessness a just ground for divorce. The coming of the baby means to a mother more than meat —aye, more than a fashionable garment It is the social insignium with the Japanese mother; nothing defines her social rank as finally as the baby. The society is heartless to the childless mother; it brands her as “the stone-woman;” it exposes her to the galling pity of her more favored sisters. In the sterner days of the samurai ideal, she was an object to be shunned, like a leper. The childless mother did not dare to Impose herself upon society. A > rather far cry, this, from the fashionable Fifth avenue atmosphere, isn’t it?

He Was Not Mean.

At a railway station In a certain Alabama town, acording to Harper’s Weekly, a number of passengers, who were waiting for a train, distributed themselves on the platform, their feet hanging over. Presently there came along a native, a sour-faced Individual, with a rope in his hand. It subsequently appeared that he was looking for a stray mule. He came out of the bush opposite the station and stood for some time looking up and down the tracks. Then he directed his gaze to the group of waiting passengers on the platform with their feet hanging over. H 6 regarded them listlessly for. quite a while, then suddenly called out: "Hey, there! You-all!" "What Is It?” demanded Borne one, startled by the sudden cry. “H’ist your feet!” This Injunction to ‘'h’ist” was complied with by all with alacrity, for as they looked down over the platform they perceived a big rattlesnake just coiling for a strike. -A handy grindstone was dropped on the reptile, and one of the men thanked the native for his timely warning. He smiled grimly. ‘‘l don’t s’pose I deserve much thanks," he Bald, “but sorqp men who had lost a mule an* been hunting for It for three days would have been kinder onery ’bout that snake. However, gents, there isn’t anything mean about me!"

The Test.

But of the three sorts, namely, those who are born great, those who acquire greatness, and those who have greatness thrust upon them, only the first are anywise certain to know what the different forks are for at the fashionable dinners inevitably given In their honor from time to time.—Puck.

Beneath It.

“What are you doing here?" asked the irate farmer. “Don’t you see that ‘No Trespassing* notice just above your head?" "Don’t speak to me. sir!” replied the tramp. “Don’t you see I’m beneath your notice.” —Yonkers Statesman.

ANN MABEL.

Now, this is no fanciful fable, It’s what I heard people say— There once was a child named Ann Mabel, Who polished her shoes all the day. Folks called the child so unassuming; Folks said that Ann Mabel was shy. “She never is pert or presuming,” They said, but they didn’t know why. They spoke to Ann Mabel politely, And sweetly Ann Mabel replied, But never looked up at them brightly And ever her blue eyes did hide. So some one once made an endeavor To find why she acted this way, And said to her: "Why do you never Look up when you’rfe talking, I pray ?” _ ;• “It’s not that I’m shy,” said Ann Mabel, “Nor bashful at all, but I choose To look down whenever I’m able - Because I’m so proud of my shoes.” Dressing Susan. When Dorothy was four years old her mother said to her one day, “Now, dear, you are such a big girl that I think you should learn to dress yourself. That would help mother so much every morning, and every afternoon after your nap.” “Why, mother,” replied Dorothy, “I don’t believe I could do it, and besides, you know I have to dress Big Susan every morning.” Now “Big Susan” was the name of a great cloth doll, almost as large as

THE CAMELOPARD AT HOME

The giraffe divides with the elephant and the hippopotamus the wonder of the gaping crowds at the menagerie, the three animals being so fundamentally unlike anything in our staid north temperate zone. Seen in his natural surroundings in the heart of Africa, he is, says Dr. W. S. Rainsford, in the Outlook, a still more striking and interesting sight. The giraffe is perfectly harmless; be was never known to hurt any one, and he gets his living off the upper boughs it thorn trees, which nobdy can reach but himself, and no one else would eat if it could reach them.

To see the giraffe’s beautifully mottled skin towering up among and over the flat green thorn trees is surely one of the strangest and most beautiful sights the animal world offers man. As he stands and dips and bends and twists his nine-foot-long neck in and i out among the armed branches of the tree he is grace personified. I saw once seven of these creatures, the king, his harem and his children, all gathered round one green-topped tree. From seven points of vantage they dipped into it at once, stooping under an unusually thinly armed bough bending on another. Their necks seemed to twist two or three ways at once. I had the good fortune to be able to come very near without alarming them —less than 100 yards—and with my glass could see them as If they were not more than ten yardfc away. But when at last the treacherous breeze betrayed us, and they plunged Into flight—well, no one could call their movements graceful. The Immensely long fore legs are thrown forward, as you Bee a very high-stepping horse sometimes throw his fore legs forward, till the hoof, for the fraction of a second, Is pointed straight out in front. The giraffe makes this motion with a sort of Jerk at the end of it, as If he Intended in the first Instance to fling his hoof as far forward as he could, and then with with a sort of afterthought brings it to the ground. As it reaches' earth he flounders forward with his high shoulders, and lifts both ungainly hind legs together, lifting and planting them together, or almost together. There is a great antediluvian lizard known to us which had two brains, one to move his body and another to move his abnormally long tall. It looks as If the giraffe, like the long lizard, needed two brains also, one to move hlB hind legs and another to move his fore legs, and as If the two brains would not act perfectly together.

After-Effects?—But Let It Pass.

Owens —I am really bothered more by the after effects of my illness than I was by the disease Itself. Franklin —Why don’t you settle the doctor’s bill and have done with it?— Boston Transcript

Dorothy herself. Susan’s clothes had once been Dorothy’s own, until outworn or too small for the little girl, who delighted in dressing her big doll. , “0, Dorothy,” cried her mother, "Til tell you how to do it! Let’s play every morning that you are Big Susan, and then it will be as easy as can be to dress yourself.” Dorothy laughed, and thought that would be great fun. So the next morning she,.called herself Big Susan, and all the clothes went on so easily It was just like a game. Mother only did just a little buttoning, where Dorothy could not reach very well, and praised her small daughter for being bo helpful. And after that Dorqthy dressed herself all alone every day. Although the big doll’s clothes were sometimes not changed for days at a time, Sußan never seemed to mind a bit. —Youth's Companion. - ‘ ’A Flies on • Card. Cut several small pieces of cardboard about the size of a visiting card and draw six flies on each, numbering them from one to six. The object of the game is to see who can first cover all the flies by throwing with a die. Each player in turn throws with, a die and covers the fly corresponding to the number thrown. -He who covers or kills all the flies first, wins. As a variation, eighteen pieces can be used, each player throwing three times Instead of once. After the first three throws the game begins to get exciting, as the exact numbers necessary to fill the card are seldom thrown. •What Makes Me Dream. I dream the very nicest things! I dream my bicycle has wings, I dream my doll can laugh and talk; I dream my woolly lamb can walk. How do the dreams get in my head As I lay quiet in my bed? Do I just think while I’m asleep. Or does a little fairy creep So soft and still up to my ear And whisper dreams for me to hear? One Way ot Patting It. “Mamma says 'shut up’ Isn’t a nice thing to say,” said Dolly. “Why, don’t you ever make a noise at your house?” asked Dot. “Oh, yes,” explained Dolly, “but Bob always tells us to ‘fold up our noise and put it in our pockets.’"

CHAMPION KNITTER IS DEAD.

Atlanta Woman, 63 Year* Old, Knit* Mo*t Intricate Pattern*. Totally blind and 63 years old, yet able to produce knitted articles of exquisite workmanship and artistic design, which always take first prizes in whatever competition they are exhibited— This Is the remarkable accomplishment of Miss Cardelia Lieberman. Never possessing a very strong sight. Miss Lieberman went entirely blind at the age of 23 years. She learned the art of knitting, of which she Is now such an accomplished master, after that time, and it has been her chief occupation during forty years of blindness. At the State fair held recently at Macon Miss Lieberman was awarded two blue ribbons on her work, one for the best collection of fancy work of any kind and one for the best pair of knitted bedroom slippers. At the last Atlanta fair she received five first prizes, and was the successful competitor at four previous fairs, the Atlanta Georgian says. Her "prize collection of knitted work Included a baby carriage afghan, a pair of bootees, baby’s sack, lady’s shawl, gentleman’s bedroom slippers and a child’s scarf. Miss Lieberman knits articles of several colors and by keeping the various colored yams in seperate positions she never gets them confused. Nor are all Miss Lleberman’s accomplishments confined to knitting. Only last year Miss Lieberman took up the Btudy of the New York point, and learned It readily, so that now she is able to read anything printed in this system with the greatest fluency. With the latter accomplishment began Miss Lieberman’s interesting acquaintance with Helen Keller, the famous blind girl. Mlsb Lieberman read in one of her magazines that Helen Keller was able to play solitaire and a number of other games with cardß. Thereupon Miss Lieberman wrote her, asking what cards she used and how she was able to distinguish them. Miss Keller responded by sending Miss Lieberman a pack of cards marked In the New York point, with the information that she marked her own cards in any one of the several systems wltb which she was acquainted. Miss Lieberman acknowledged Miss Keller’s kindness by sending her a pair of knitted slippers. Out of this correspondence and exchange of gifts has grown a friendship that is cherished by both. Miss Lieberman was born in Louisville, Ky., coming to Atlanta about thirty years ago. She lives with her niece at 184 Richardson street and gains a livelihood from the sale of her articles. Some men never realize ho# very valuable they are until they are sued for breach of promise. .‘‘a, * '^*4 Jolly an egotist and he will jump any way you want him to.