Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 59, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 March 1910 — Page 2

THE DAILY REPUBLICAN Every Day Except Sender. ■EAtEV & CLARK, Pahlishert. JRENSSELAER, - INDIANA.

COURTSHIP FESTIVAL.

Eilli of Brittle Vlllate Hart One Day Annually to Prapoac Marriace. Lover*, long before the day of Orlando and Rosalind, were wont, according to the poets, to hang verses on boughs and carve names on trees. There are villages in England where certain great trees have borne witness from time immemorial to the’ village courtships; their bark bears hundreds of testifying scars, and many hundreds more have vanished slowly with the passing years. In a few places the pretty custom survives for happy married lovers to repair yearly to their courtship tree and recut and keep clear the heart and Intertwined initials of their, early vows. In the town of Ecaussines in Belgium a lover and a tree founded a custom observed for several centuries. A shy youth there, not daring to speak his love, slipped Into the cottage garden of his sweetheart under cover of darkness, and planted beside her door-stone a beautiful young white birch. In the morning, without words, the whispering leaves of the graceful messenger conveyed their message. The gdrl guessed who had set the tree, sent for the youth,' encouraged and accepted him. The skory became known, and established an anniversary custom observed on every thirtieth of April. Gradually the day developed into a courtship festival, long purely local, but in recent years of drider scope. Not only did the lovers of Ecaussines court their sweethearts with planting and persuasion, but bachelor# and widowers from ■ surrounding towns thronged the village to choose wives from among the orphaned wards of the municipality, who were then given 'in marriage in acordance with their choice and the mayor's discretion, or to seek them among the more fortunate maidens of the place, reputed more inclined to be woed on that day than any other. Indeed, so highly are the maids otf Ecaussines esteemed both for modesty and beauty, and so satisfactory has the day of courtship proved, that a new development occurred last year. The arrangements were all very well for bold and dashing lovers, who could •woo with speed and efTect; but the shy men, distrusting their powers and fearing refusal, protested. The eager bnt bashful bachelors of the neighboring village of Ronquieres urged that, although they believed they really would make good husbands, thpy doubted their ability to make love. So, at their urgent request, to the mingled features of Arbor day and St. Valentine’s, was added a dash of leap year. On April 30 last the maids of Ecaussines, by special invitation so to do, visited Ronquieres and there proposed, without fear of jeering comment or unkind rejection, to whatever young man pleased them. Report says that the matches so made have been successful, and that other towns of the vicinity are already pleading that the anniversary, so long belonging to one village only, be made a feast in which each may share. It really looks as 11 in the future April 30 would be the'one day In tbq year when the pretty and popular maids of Ecaussines are certain to be not at home. —Youth’s Companion.

WHY OF THE HATPIN.

No Trouble for the Dainty Little Woman to Give Explanation. "I see how it is about the hatpins now, and it all came out in an explanation my wife £&ve me the other evening,” said the man with the Van Dyke beard, according to the New York Times. "We had been out to the opera, and as we were going up in the elevator— I admit the top gallery was our destination —I noticed for the first time that my wife wore spiked weapons protruding from her expensive new velvet tertian at every angle. - ' ... “My wife is a dainty little woman, just the right height to look well with a man of my proportions, but when I saw that the topmost of the daggers in her head gear was exactly a quarter of an inch from my eve f could have - wished her as aftitludinous as the tallest officer in the army of Frederick the Great. “I managed with gome difficulty to dodge over to one side of my wife from my former position in the rear, only to find another engine of instant destruction aimed at the side of my other eye. A s%iden lurch which brought the car to a full stop threw her forward just about the time I had squeezed in front of her, and I felt the jab of something sharp incisioning the vicinity of my cerebellum. ‘“Look here!** I snapped, as with some surprise I found myself alive on the outside of the elevator shaft. ‘I thought I invited my wife to come here with me to-night, but I seem to have brought some deadly species of* the porcupine family. Do you know that your hatpins just now nearly t caused my deathT* ‘ ” 'Oh. dearest, I hm so sorry,' came the soothing reply. When she takes on that sweet, gentle tone my structure of arguments and facts always collapses. ' ‘"Those horrid hatpins are in the way, I know/ she went on, 'but, you eee, I can’t help It Nice hatpins are

expensive, yoi» know, and I have to get one size that'will do for all my 4ats. The short hatpins, dearie, those \that are intended for turbans, would not be long enough to hold on my picture hat with the plumes, and so I Just had to get the longest size, which are about a. foot long, and use those in all my hats, even the small ones. I know they do stick out awfully, and are quite dangerous to any one who lfappens to be near me. Isn’t it a shame?’ ‘‘Gee whiz! Well, I could see just how it was. And all the time she was trying to economize for my sake, bless her heart! Any other woman would have bought two sets of hatpins. I’ll warrant.”

THRIVE ON AMERICANS.

**art» Vocal Trainers Tarn Ont Comparatively Few Great Artists. The methods and evidenced result* of French vocal training cannot be sc pleasantly regarded. As a people, we have suffered too great a multitude of unfortunate experiences to let the situation go without plain speaking that the American girl may know, as she too often has not known, true conditions in Paris, says the Woman’s Home Companion. it is estimated that there are 5,000 vocal teachers in Paris; they manage to thrive, and mainly on the money of-Americans. The number of really great singers the French teachers have sent us in return for the outlay of many thousands is practicaly nil. The two most distinguished exceptions are Miss Mary Garden and M. Renaud, of The Manhattan Opera House. But, again, the great success of both artists is due mainly to their admirable acting. Of those achelving notable success-, es at the Metropolitan Opera House and studying in Paris, Mme. Melba, Mme. Eames and Mme. Calve made their debuts from the classroom of Mme. Marches!, a German, while M. Plan con studied with Sbriglia, an Italian, who made Jean de Reszke a tenor. Yet the procession to French teachers grows each year in volume, unaffected by any thought of discouraging statistics. A new* arrival in Paris will calmly assert, without questioning or experience, that it is the only place In the world to study; go Out the next morning and arrange for lessons with a teacher whose name she had heard or read, or possibly engage hours with a stranger of whom she has done neither, but whose expressed opinion of her voice is more flattering than that of any other she may have visited. The old fetich that every teacher of music who is a foreigner must consequently be a good teacher, which long ago vanished in America, appears still to hold sway with our country people once in Paris. To be known there as vocal teachers .seems but too often an all-sufficient recommendation.

To Study Babies.

Saying that it is as Important that college women should be taught the scientific care of infants as that college men should study agricultural problems, Dr. Edna D. Day, professor of home economics in the University of Missouri, at Columbia, Mo., has planned for the women students an elective course in the raising of babies. Forty women in Dr. Day’s close, practically the entire number, have taken up the work. The class visits the Parker Memorial Hospital, where Dr. Day lectures, while a nurse bathes a baby. Such subjects as the temperature of the water, when and how often a soap should be used, what kind of towels are most sanitary and what kind of clothing must be used to keep the baby’s skin from being irritated are discussed. Dr. Day believes that a nursery should be run in connection with the university where women of Columbia could leave their babies through the day.

The Scratches.

I went into a barber shop, A little corner place; The barber must have had a drop, He badly cut my face. And when he saw my face was cut, With all his might and main He soused me with witchhazel, but It didn't stop the pain. Next day, in a forgiving mood, I took another chance. The haughty barber by me stood With supercilious glance, “You shave yourself sometimes, I guess,” The barber did observe, And I was mute, I must confess; Before such lofty nerve.

Her Ingenious Confession.

“I love to make dainty dishes of the left-over food,” remarked young Mrs. Xuwedd. “So?V “Yes;” and since I began doing the cooking I have plenty of left-over material to work with.” - 1

Balanced.

“Of course,” said the very talkative person on the back platform, “no man ever is a hero to his valet” “And what is much more to the purpose/’ said the sour faced individual In the doorway, “no woman ever was a saint to her hired girl.”

The Philosopher of Folly.

“Some give according to their means,” says the Philosopher of Folly, “and o there according to how mean they are.” Many a man’s wife puts him wise to an unwritten law verbally. A political boom frequently assumes the shape of a boomerang. _■££ __j

SAM’S HORN BLASTS

Warala* Vote* Calling: the Wicked to Repentance.

We often get to a good place over a bad road. A bird with bright plumage often has very black feet. In the school of experience there are no vacations or holidays. Sin is always a dirty thing, no matter how clean the sinner may look. The great test of character is not what it ean do, but what it can bear. Nothing can strengthen a man’s heart like little arms around his neck. . The devil seldom loses anything when the preacher gets an easy place. The man who never grows is very small, no matter how big he was at birth. * The most of us have had some experience in straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel. Holding a dollar within an inch of a man’s nose will often make him as blind as putting his eyes out. The real purpose of education is to make a worm big enough and strong enough to thrash-a mountain.

PLOWING WITH DOGS.

The present rapid taking up of land for agricultural purposes in the Canadian Northwest makes interesting reading of Rev. Egerton R. Yonug’s book, “The Battle of the Bears.” Mr. Young was missionary to the Indians on the west side of Hudson Bay at a time when no farming was done in all that territory. His station was set -Norway House, and it was there that he began the raising of wheat and vegetables. There were no draft-animals except dogs. They were his team. With the dogs the summer was generally one long, restful holiday. My Indian fisherman with his nets kept them well supplied with the daintiest of whitefish. So I felt perfectly justified in breaking in a little on that holiday fey giving them tire opportunity of helping me in my summer work. With the help of my little son, who loved the dogs and was loved by them, I harnessed up eight of the biggest and strongest fellows, and arranging them in four teams, we attached them to the plow as a farmer would his horses.

Then the work, or rather, at first, the fun began. The dogs had been trained to go on the jump, and so our greatest difficulty was to make them go slowly. When the word "Marche!” —“Go!”—was shouted, they sprang together In such unison and with such strength that the weight of the heavy steel plow In the stiff soil was as nothing to them, I prided myself on being, for a missionary, a fairly good amateur plowman; but in spite of all my skill and efforts, those eager dogs wojuld sometimes get the points of the plow up, and before I could get it down Into the soil again, they, with the pressure off, were away with a rush, and there was no stopping them until we were at the fence on the oposite side of the field. Sometimes w T e did fairly well by having my little son walk ahead, or rather between the two dog? of the first team. It was hard work for the little fellow, as he frequently tumbled down, and then two or three pairs of dogs would run over him before they were stopped. But not a. whit discouraged, he w’ould scramble up out of the furrow and from among the dogs and traces, and beg to be allowed to try again. Thus we experimented until we got the intelligent dogs to understand what was required of them. Then the work, although of course laborious, was a great delight. I plowed up my garden and the few little fields which I had, and after Sowing my grain, harrowed it in with the dogs. They liked dragging the harrow better thair the plow because I could let them go faster with it.

An Accident.

A spinster once who -was antique Daubed lots of rouge upon her chique. But by mistake She made a brake And got a little on her bique. ■The people saw the crimson strique And laughed until they all grew wique. The spinster saw . What made them “Haw!” And vanished with a learfpl shrique. —Chicago Chronicle. 7 “

Preaching Without Practice.

“Do you see that chap over there with the large and virtuous countenance?” “Do you mean the fellow who was just advising the boys to pay their Christmas bills promptly?” "That’s the one. His grocer told me this morning that he’s got a bill against him two years old.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. An Ohio man claims-to have saved several thousand dollars last year by not having any for his friends to borrow. • ■ ■ Our Idea of a stingy woman is one who declines to waste threat! sewing buttons on her husband’s clothes.

Big men have been mistaken about vital things about as soften as little ones. If it were not for the help he gets from the loafer the devil would have been ready to quit long ago.

IN FAVOR OF REAL AUTHOR.

nrew York Court’. Rating la Cane of a Plagiarized Short Story. A decision of Interest to authors was handed down by the United States Circuit Court of Appeals, says the New York Times. Writers whose copyrighted stories are appropriated without their consent by successful playwrights are entitled to all the profits of the plays, the court holds. The decision was in the suit which Henry J. W. Dam, a writer, who has since died, brought four years ago against the Kirk La Shelle Theatrical Company, when it was producing "The Heir to the Hoorah” all over the country with great success. Mr. Dam wrote a short story called “The Transmogrification of Dan” some yiears ago. It was about a prospector, who discovers a rich mine. Becoming wealthy he marries into society and lets himself be bullied and despised by his wife and mother-in-law, until his son is born: Then he recovers lrtff self-fekpect and dignity through the responsibilities of fatherhood. Mr. Dam sold it for SBS to the Smart Set, which copyrighted and printed it. At ‘ a theater several years later, Mr. Dam declared, he was considerably surprised to recognize his little eight-page story in Paul Armstrong’s successful play, “The Heir to the Hoorah.” Mr. Dam got the Smart Set to assign him its interest in the copyright. Then he started suit against the Kirk La Shelle company. Andrew Gilhooley, of 5 Benkman street, Mr. Dam’s lawyer, contended that when a playwright dramatizes ’a copyrighted story without the consent of the author all the profits realized from the play should be awarded to the author, even though the dramatist may have Incorporated additional matter. After Mr. Dam’s death the suit was carried on by his widow, Dorothy Dorr, the actress. Oddly enough, Mr. Dam wrote his story, which was founded on inspiration of fatherhood, not long after the birth of his own son. In its decision .yesterday the United States Circuit Court of Appeals holds that the infringement of the copyright consisted of the use of the theme of the story, the change produced in the character of a husband by becoming a father. “A playwright,” says the court, “who appropriates the theme of another’s story cannot, in our opinion, escape the Chai-ge of infringement by adding to or slightly varying Its incidents even if none of the language of the story is used in the play ’ “In our opinion, the playwright deliberately appropriated the story and dramatized it.” As to compensation for the infringement, the court says in substance that, to adjudge all the play’s profits to the author of the story, who took no financial risks in producing the play, seems at first unjust, hut the author of a story could not prove how much he was damaged or how much of the profits he deserved. Neither could he follow the theatrical company all over the counfiry, seeking relief through injunctions. Making the theatrical company accountable for all the profits was the only way to keep copyrighted but undramatized books and stories from being appropriated. The complainant was entitled to recover the whole profits from the play.

THE BUNDLE OF HAY.

When traveling on foot from Rothenburg to the Danube, Everett Warner had the good fortune to put up at an inn, “The Sign of the Lamb,” where the charges were so small as to surprise him. He describes in Scribner’s Magazine this unusual experience; It was quite dark when I reached the “Lamb.” On entering the tavern, which I found crowded to overflowing, I sought the Frau Wirtin and made the customary inquiry about the charge for accommodation. "Twenty pfennigs,” five cents, “is the charge for a single room,” she answered, to my great astonishment. I barely recovered sufficient natural effrontery to inquire if light was included at that figure. It was. I will confess that, once irrevocably committed to the room, and following the Frau Wlrtin’s flickering candle up stairs, I had some furtive regrets for the haystack under the open sky; but when I reached my quarters, I found that the misgivings due to the alarmingly low. price were unfounded. I will not pretend It wa? a luxurious chamber into which I was shown, but it was reasonably clean, and, to be fair to it, many a better bed has not yielded me half so good a night’s rest. The next morning, while settling the most insignificant hotel bill that it has ever been my lot to encounter, I could not help thinking that those who pictured the country innkeeper as a rapacious brigand had certainiy never put up it the “Sign of the Lamb.” Personally, I have yet to be charged With a bundle of hay, but I understand it has happened. "How is this, Herr Wirt?” exclaimed the, amazed traveler, going over the Items of food and drink on his bill. “You have me charged with a bundle of hay.” “Quite right, quite right/’ responded the landlord, readily. "You complained last night of the mooing of a cow in the adjoining stable, and I gave her a bundle of hay to quiet her.” 1 -1 : ■. , ■ . The# roan who can flatter without overdoing it always makes a "hit with a woman.

YOUNG FOLKS

The Way to Sckool. Five minutes chasing butterflies Way over, oft the road; Five minutes watching Willie Price Do tricks with his pet toad; Five minutes helping Gibbsie get His pig back in the pen— I wonder if it’s school-time yet? I guess I’m late again. I think I lost a little time Because I walked so Slow Where Johnny Watkins lost a dime A day or two ago. It’s underneath -the leaves somewhere, And Johnny feels so blue That I Just stopped a minute there Because he asked me ta And then it rained a little bit, And Dominick McPhee Had his straw hat, and had to sit Under a good thick tre6, Or else he’d get it spoiled and get The top all swelled. You see, A straw hat lq not safe to wet— His kind, especially. • And after* we had saved his hat From getting spoiled for him A big woodpecker came and sat Up on a rotten limb; And J.ohnny .said when they’re about, Somebody told the boys, You se« a lot of worms coma out To see what makes the noise. So then we boys all stayed about A couple minutes more, In hopes to see the worms come out Which he was rapping for; But after he went b-r-r-r and b-r-r-r A while, he flew away, And Johnny said he guessed there were No worms at hojne that day. So then we hurried up, and ran As fast as we could run. To get there just as school began. And Just when it's begun I had to run back to the tree To get my slate and rule; And yet the teacher cannot see Why boys are late for school! —Youth’s Companion.

A Home in an Old Fence Post. There was once a little mother, with a large family only her own hands to do for them all. They lived in an old fence post that had stood for so many years in the corner of an old field that everybody else had forgotten its existence. At the bottom of the post a colony of brown ants kept carrying grains of sand to the surface until a little mound was formed around their hole. But the little mother paid no more attention to the ants than if they had been a thousand miles away. I doubt if she knew of their existence. She was the busiest of busy people when she first found the post in early summer and decided to make her home there. She was all alone then, but she knew what she was about. She first bit a tiny scrap off the surface of the post. Then another and another. Finding it was just soft enough for her stout little jaws to work upon she tolled hour after hour until she had bored a tunnel down into the post. It was a smooth little tunnel, bigger than a lead pencil and not quite as long as a new one. Just think how long it must have taken her. Think how many weeks it would take you to dig a tunnel twelve times your own length and plenty wide enough for you to creep into! And you would have a shovel and a pick-axe and a cart to carry away the dirt. This little mother had only her own jaws to work with. I never heard that she complained a bit. She always worked as if she liked it. Do you think she sat down to rest when the tunnel was done and every scrap carried to the entrance and dropped to the ground? (I wonder If the brown ants ever thought It was raining sawdust). No rest Jor the little mother yet. She flew (for she had four wings) straight to the nearest garden, and found without delay a fine rose bush with thin leaves. Before you could wink twice she had snipped out an oval piece and was gone. At the very bottom of the tunnel In the old post she placed the bit of rose leaf, whirled away again to the very same bush, cut another oval to go with the first. So she continued until she had made of the pieces of rose leaves a little .thimble-shaped cup at the bottom of the tunnel. Without stopping to admire her work she hurried to the nearby flowers and collected honey and pollen enough to make a,little cake, which she packed away in the rose leaf cup. The first room of the little new home is now ready for its occupant. The walls are thick and smoothly lined. The little bee-mother now lays her first egg upon the cake of honey and pollen; When the bee-baby hatches out it finds enough food to last until it. is a grown-up bee. Away the little mother flies. Back to the robe bush now. But the piece shd cuts this time from the rdih leaf, is not oval but circular. Quick as lightning her little sclssors-like Jaws do their work. The round piece lp just the Bize to cover the top of the eup in the tunnel and she tucks the edges in tidily, often makln gthree or four trips for circular pieces hefdre the work Is finished to her liking. Another rose leaf cup Is fitted in the tunnel just touching the top of the first one. It is stocked with food, an egg placed in It and all covered with green circles. Another cell, then

another and another is made, until the tunnel is full. Sometimes several tunnels are made by the same bee. To line them all Bhe must make hundreds of trips to the rose garden. Examine your rose bushes and see if the leaf-cutter bee has paid them a visit. How lucky you would be if you should be watching some day and should really see a grey bee not so large as a honey bee come and cut out a piece and bear It away. A boy I once knew had a habit of always seeing things happen. One day he actually followed one of these bees from rose bush straight across the pasture to the old fence post in the corner, and saw her carry the bit of rose leaf Into her nest. —Mary Morgan Miller, in Boys and Girlß. Waiting tor a Game.

x Two Mexican Games. While children play pretty much the same games the world over, here are two the Mexicans play which are not used anywhere else: - "Hanging Judas” Is a popular one with the boys. They dress a big rag doll in funny clothes (much like a scarecrow) and stuff It with Btraw. They then put a firecracker in the toes and hang the figure on a line stretched across the narrow street. Then the fuse is lighted and “Judas” is pushed out oil the line. Bang, go the firecrackers. Judas is all ablaze, and the children laugh—and dane© about as he burns. This game is commonly played around Easter time. "The Flying Game” is another sport popular in Mexico, and their records show it was played before the time of Columbus. A tree Is cut, Its branches removed and steps are made out of ropes. Others affixed to the corners of the frame are then wound around the pole. Four boys, dressed as eagles or hawks, climb up the steps, and each of them, takftig a rope, Bwings off, while another boy whirls the square' frame around. This unwinds the ropes and makes the boys fly round and round in larger circles until they reach the ground. While the birds are tying down one boy stands on top of the pole, waving a flag and beating a drum, until a looker-on feels much as if he had been to a circus.

The Comparison.

Dropping into the Garrick Club one afternoon, Charles Brookfledd, the dramatist, found a well known actor, who happened to be playing David Garrick at the time, reclining In a chair right under the portrait of the immortal “Davy.” Brookfield stopped in front of him and looked first at the portrait and then at the man. “By Jove, old fellow,” he exclaimed at last, !‘you grow more and more like Garrick every day-” “Do you really think so, Brookfield?” returned the delighted victim. “Yes,” came the crushing retort, “and less and less like him every night.”—London Tatler.

Triolet.

My dashing little suffragette— She threw a brick at me! Oh, playful is that bright coquet. My dashing little suffragette! But how she hurt my knee! I-loved her, and I love her yet, My dashing little suffragette! She threw a brick at me!

He Let Her Drop.

First Sweet Thing—She thought he was such a good catch that she boldly threw herself at him. • Second Sweet Thing—The Idea! First Sweet Thing—Yes. But he wasn’t a good catch at all. He muffed her.—Browning's Magazine.

As He Saw It.

"Well, I don’t know; the critics say she has danced her way Into fame on her merits alone.” "I don’t understand it, since he*, merits are so Infernally slim.’’—Boston Herald.

Get Even with Deadheads.

In Russia photographers are in the habit of paying out any customer who refuses to pay up by hanging his pof. trait upside down in a conspicuous portion of their shop. What has become of all the people who tried to butt Into the millionaire class a few years ago by raising Belgian haresf A man never realizes how many faults he has until he has been mu* ried two or three years. It may be disgraceful to die rich, but that isn't worrying us any'