Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 217, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 September 1911 — Page 3

In a Dead Town

By MARTHA McGULLOCH WILLIAMS

"What’s doing?” Clay asked, as be stepped from the dining room out on the hotel piaua. Lights were winking up and down the town’s hilly street as glow worms were winking In the gardens round about A little wind, blowing southerly, brought the freshness of the river, and the scent of ploughed earth- from the cornfields In the bottoms beyond. Clay had fed well, therefore his mood was complacent Not so Mason, who stood in wait for him. Discontent lined his face even snore than common. “Nothing’s doing. .You can bet on that here always, and anyhow,” Mason answered sourly, “Deadest town this aide the planets—that’s the size of Ashmore —’’ “Yet—you stick to ft!” Clay interrupted. Mason laughed a hard laugh. ”1 hare to stand what amounts to death In life, because another man persists In living after he Is dead,” he said very low. “Haven't they told you about Grandad? Just a breathing tump he is. Ninety-five If he’s a day —he won’t let us see the record. Almost blind, deaf as a post, bedfapt now for seven years—yet with the appetite of a coal heaver! keeps him alive, the doctors say—that and his grip—on life and his money—” “O! I begin to understand!” Clay interjected. Mason ran on eagerly: “I- shouldn’t grudge him life —to a hundred and far beyond It —If he had any sort of consideration for anybody but himself. Keeps me tied to his chalrarm virtually. This Is the first time I’ve been out except to go to the postoffice and the bank, In a month. And 1 had to lie to get out now. Told him there was a chance‘of getting big interest of gilt-edged short-time loan — It was the first thing I could think of, after 1 got your note.” *T shouldn’t have written —not If Td known. This Is my first time here,” Clay muttered confusedly. Mason stopped him with an eager gesture. “Do you gruHge water to a man dying of thirst?” he asked. “Another lie will square me—l’ve only to nay, the collateral was fishy, and Grandad will pat me on the back. Meantime, let’s be moving. I want to Bhow you—say! you’ll help In a good deed?" “Unless there’s a girl In it,” Clay answered chuckling. “A petticoat always scares me stiff.” “vVe know you’re lying. Jack,” Mason flung back. They were going with long strides up the main street. At the third corner Mason turned sharply about, saytag, “Wait, I mustn’t startle Elsie.” Next breath Clay heard him whistle softly In a thick shrubbery just Inslde a ragged garden. There was no answering sound, but In half a minute, Mason was back, with a sUm black-clad shape beside him.

•*Oet your car—l know It ia In the •arage —never mind now —and meet ub a', block trom here,’’ Mason said breathlessly. "You're going to run nway with us across the state line—and be best man at our wedding. It’s the only chance for us —you’re sate and discreet —If anybody else knew It would ruin us." •Tell me how? I go Into nothing blindfold,” Clay said almost stubbornly, In Mason’s hushed key. Mason flung up his hand crying -fretfully: “Man don’t potter! Every minute counts. We must be married, and back In place long before midnight—and there’s a run of twenty miles each way.” “What’s the use of running?” Clay persisted doggedly. Mason clutched him feverishly. “To save the fortune I’m slaving in prison for," he said. “Grandad means to leave It In his will that I am to marry the girl he has chosen for me. Obviously, If 1 turn out to> be already married to somebody else, that provision is void, without hurting the will otherwise." “I see! Meet you in two minutes," Clay said, running away. But as be turned the next corner he slacked to * slow walk, asking himself if he were not doing wrong. An hour or so later, be had no such doubt male's radiant eyes, her smiling mouth, reassured him. She was worth a lot of risk. Clay decided. He felt a chivalrous pity for her, and was ready to go all lengths to help her. Mason had told him briefly their love story—lt was a rustic Montague and Capulet affair—her people the Bnslys, had been at odds with the Masons time out of mind. Then Grandad had all | miser's Instinctive hatred of unsuccess for them. Their fortunes had fallen until Elsie went out sewing—by an Irony of rate she was even then making line white lacy things, of the very newest shapes and patterns, for 'Flora McLeod, the girl Grandad approved. *■ ' '

No doubt be would have Insisted upon the marriage, ssoept for his determination to keep his grandson beside him. flora came dutifully ones a week to call on him—though he could neither eee nor hear her. he -knew the feel of her bend, and ate with enormous relish the good thing* •he fetched him. “Lucky, me bo r —that's what you are.” be mumbled toothlessly as he gulped the dainties. “Beauty fades—but cooking stays by e woman to the

(Copyright, taxi, by Associated Literary Press.)

Clay came home at almost reckless speed, deposited bride and groom In their several places, and tried to sleep afterward. But the effort was vain. He had a sense of something Impending, a feeling that he had incurred a risk, and needlessly. To rid himself of It he got up about three o’clock, dressed, and went -outside, resolved to walk until daylight He had got about ton blocks away, when a quick light-flash made him turn about. There was not a cloud—the stars burned white In a velvetpurple sky. But against It to southward, he saw a mounting spiral of smoke, tinged ominously with red underneath. He turned and ran toward It shouting aloud as he ran. But strange to the place, he came roundaboutly to the fire—barely In time to see a haunting sight. A big old mansion, half ruinous, was spouting flame from half Its lower windows—the Inside must be a furnace, the stairs Impassable. The gratings set In the windows were red hot and beginning .to bend —the heavy doors still resisted, but were blistering outside. And at an upper front window, also barred, though but lightly, Mason stood, trying vainly to wrench away the bars. Clay shouted at him. He nodded, but kept on struggling. With a superhuman effort he pulled away Half the grating, turned and came back again with something helpless, shapeless, limp within his arms.

Help was coming—men and ladders. Before the ladders could be set, the men got up them; flame-tinged smoke wrapped the figures at the window. As Clay reached Ms arms for Mason's helpless burden there lame a blast as of the pit, almost full in his face. He reeled away from It, by a miracle keeping hold, and dragging out the old wreck of a man. Eager hands relieved him —he called' to Mason —but there was no answer! Fire had done Its work, taken its toll. Grandad never knew. He died before sunrise. Men said, even In the presence of death, he had sacrificed his grandson to his avarice. It was his fear for his hoarded which made him insist upon the grating. Except for It. both might have been saved. “I hate to speak 1U of the old. specially after they're dead,” said Landlord Ware. <- “But I reckon old George -Mason would be right down glad if he knew he had taken his money and his grandson with him.” Clay remained for the reading ofl the will —that same sense of responsibility clung to him. When he heard the dry-aa-dust document he was glad he had not shaken off his hauntings. For with much verbiage, but plain beyond peradventure, the fortune was left to young George Mason, with the hope, not the condition, that he marry Flora McLeod, and the provision that should he die, childless and Intestate, his heir should be his lawful wife. Falling a wife, the next of kin came In.

There were a dozen of them, at least, outwardly grief-stricken, yet with eager expectant eyes. Clay smiled grimly as he rose to face them, and say: •Then send for Mrs. Elsie Ensly Mason. I witnessed the marriage, and have the certificate. Intrusted me for. safe keeping. To this day Ashmore has never bad such another sensation. Not even when three years afterward Walter Clay, Esquire, was very quietly married to the young Mrs. Mason. People thought It odd they did not settle down in Ashmore —only a little of the money would make the old Mason place the finest In town. The house had burned to the ground to be sure, but tbe situation was unrivaled. Mr. and Mrs. day did not deny that—yet neither wanted to live there — even though they did not believe in ghosts.

Newspaper Men Too Hasty.

When the boosters of New Orleans as the proper site for the Panama Canal Exposition were given a “New Orleans night" at the National Preaa club, they agreed to furnish all the refreshments during tbe party. Late In the evening a group of newspaper men who were playing pool on the upper floor of the club ordered some of the supper. A waiter, arrayed In gorgeous apron and a high white cap. served the food and Was roundly abused for not putting the plates in their proper places. “This dub," remarked Jaa. Butler, one of tbe party, Ts going to the bad. The waiters are simply atrocious." After a few more inch remarks, the waiter, looking crestfallen and sullen, left the room. A little later Robert W. Woolley, a magaxlne writer, burst excitedly Into the room. “You fellows have Insulted s southern gentleman!” be declared hotly. ’That waiter waa the mayor of Vicksburg!”—The Bunday Magaxlne.

Pole Came From Tibet.

It Is a curious fact that polo, (be most exclusive, aristocratic and fashionable of games, should have been Invented and named in the desert wilds of Chinese Tibet. It was at least three centuries ago that the Tibetan nomada, astride of swift wild asses, and armed with dubs like hockey-sticks, first began playing

CHICAGO'S BIG BROTHER AND BIG SISTER LEAGUE

IN the Chicago juvenile court a small, blonde, fat-faced boy was accused of having twisted the wrist of a little girl, and taken from it the dollar with which the mother had sent her to the grocery. “Did you do that, George?” asked the judge. George confessed that he had. “And, Mary, what did you do?” asked the judge, turning to the little girl. - “I runned after him, and chased him, but I couldn’t ketch him.” George was a fleet kid, you observe. “What did you do with the money?” asked the judge. George hung his head, smiled slightly, and “I spent It for candy.” Next to George, In the court room, stands his father, a Lithuanian who cannot speak English. For this purpose an interpreter is at hand. George’s mother is dead, father and son board at a little one-horse house, but It is vacation time, and while the father works and earns a paltry amount at the stock yards, George roams the neighborhood and worries the citlsens and the police. Vacation and leisure often hurt a kid’s morals.

Here the interpreter tells the father that the judge decides George shall go Into the country; that the father must pay the farmer $2 a week for the boy’s board. Money Is always a thumbscrew to lax fathers, and they wince under the decision, bht in this Instance the father first pays back the dollar George pilfered, and then agrees to pay the board demanded. As the boy trots off, the judge makes the suggestion that the boy has not been kept as clean as be ought, and suggests that the kid’s ears need a bath.

Many such parents cannot furnish the board money, and even when they promise to do so circumstances cause them to default. Here the Big Brother and Big Sister fieague steps In and helps. It has a salaried mgn to escort George to a proper farm, to see that the board is paid, that George has the necessary clothing, and that he Is brought back when school begins. When there are no parents, or they are too poor to assume these expenses, the league shoulders the burden. Farm life has a civilizing Influence. All that has been lost in the city is often gained amid waving wheat fields and beside running streams. Recently one father wrote thus to she court: “I never/want to see that fellow again.” He referred to his son, eight years of age; who had been tried In court for delinquencies, wbo was placed on a farm, but who for some reason returned. Tbe letter continued: “As far as the girl is concerned (Jo had a sister who had also been provided with a temporary home), I am willing to take her back any day when they get through with her, but never again that dirty thing of a boy, as he is called."

Jo, the young culprit, confessed that he had been untidy at home merely to get back to the farm. He was a second time placed with a farmer at Marengo, Ul., where he became orderly, Industrious and cleanly, and made good In every way. The Big Brother and Big Sister league thus brought about a wholesome reform. There are cases of dependents- In the Juvenile court —minors for whom homes must be found—there are delinquents, who, because of the gravity of the offenses or because of frequent looses from goodness, are trotted off summarily to corrective schools, hut there are “left-over" boys and girls, who oftdn become good men and women In the highways of life, merely by being given a second chance. A case like that of Johnnie Jones, which came np In court the other day, la not difficult to handle, but there are others more intricate. Johnnie, a little curly-headed quadroon, stood before the Judge with not a whit of penitence In his sallow boyish face. His mother Is oolorad and

his white father has long since been lost in the maelstrom of society. Johnnie should work, but he does not; he should save his pennies, but be will not; he should do chores for his mother, but he merely plays. “Is that all true, Johnnie?” asks the judge with a fatherly touch on the boy’s shoulder. The Uttle quadroon is touched by the kindness of the judge, he drops his little eyes, and say’s It is true. “ , » “If I give you another chance, will you work, Johnnie —and will you stay home nights—and will you help your tired mother?” Johnnie promises to be good; there is a ring of honesty In his boyish voice, he goes out Into the world and makes good, and as the mother washes to keep herself and boy in trim, the case does not become a burden to the state. But the next Instance Is different. Jim Murray came before the judge. He had stolen his father’s cuff-but-tons and had skipped. He slept under boxes and sidewalks and In barns. .Jim had a grievance, too. He was obliged to wash dishes and to scrub, and the nickel, the ignoble compensation furnished him for the task by his grandfather, Jim says la taken from him by his father. Jim sayfc it is all true, and he begs the court to send him to a farm until he Is twenty-one years of age. He will be glad to work near to nature's heart, and If he can ride a pony occasionally and can reßt under apple trees occasionally he will make a man of himself. It Is work such as this the Big Brother and Big Sister league of Chicago is doing, as a part of the Illinois Children’s Home and Aid society, and under the direction of the juvenile court.

The work was started in Chicago in Jhly, 1909, by Mr. E. R. Colby. Mr. Colby would rather find a good borne for a child than to race about the country in an automobile, and he has given up splendid business chances for this phase of social work. During the past year 200 children have been looked after, .and the avenues for usefulness are ever widening. There have long been open doors for little fatherless and motherless children, there have long been corrective Institutions (which have not always corrected), but there has been an Intermediate class of boys and girls which has been lost sight of. This class has of recent years been discovered in large cities, and It Is this intermediate class of boys and girls that the Big Brothers and Big Sisters are trying to help over ths roughnesses of life. As may be fancied, work of this kind In a metropolitan city grows by leaps and bounds, and a method of work must be thought out and worked out as facts develop. Good homes must be at .hand to supply the manifold necessities, big and little. The olfice of the league Is at 12T North Dearborn street, Chicago, where the Children's Home end Aid Society of Illinois has for a dozen years maintained Its existence. EMMA E. KOEHLER.

Sounds Almost True.

Ths following Is a real fish story: Almost frozen and dying of hunger ws saw a wounded whale struggling on the Ice. We were so hungry we could hardly refrain for eating It raw; but upon my suggestion we proceeded to fry the whale entire:—we did so and found Its flesh as tender as salmon. How did we fry It? Where did we get the frying pan? Why, 11l tell you. We started a fire on the Ice and let It burn till It became red hot, and then we rolled the fish on it, and In an hour It was dons to a tarn. l-T

A Puzzler.

“Why do they talk so much of presidential or gubernatorial timber?” "Why not?” - “Do they want wooden men Is est fleer

STALE PHRASES ARE NEEDED

Writer Who Expresses s Powerful Emotion Must Bay What Has " Been Said Countless Times. Osr dramatic critic, la Us isolew ed Sardou r s jplay "Above Suspicion, M said of one of the characters that “his ftps were sealed,” and remarked that such phrases necessarily accompany such plays. They do, Indeed, and the use as them makes one understand ‘ the emotional quality of such plays better than the meet elaborate analysis of them. There are hundreds as phrases like this, containing metaphors both violent and stale, which are only used Seriously by writers who snatch at the easiest means of expressing an emotion which they do not lent For If s writer has a real emotion as his own to express ho will either use a metaphor suggested to hftn by that particular emotion or none- a* all. This is a matter of instruct, not of literary art; for a fresh emotion will not be satisfied with stale- phrases hut wfD feel Itself misrepresented by them. That fs one reason why, when power fully moved, we «o often- an Inarticulate. We feel that commonplaces will not serve our turn, bat we have nothing to put in their place. Tho Writer's task is to he neither Inarticulate nor commonplace. He must not be artless, nor must he give us had art for good. If he has a new idea to express he fs not tempted by stale phrases. For they are associated with emotions rather than with thoughts, since emotions are not discoveries. Mke new ideas, and when; expressed in literature are valued, not for their novelty, but for the power with which they are expressed. Thus, a writer who expresses a new idea says what has never* been said before, * but a writer who wishes to express a powerful emotion has to say what has probably been said a thousand times, and by bad writers as well as good. These bad writers have hardened our memory with metaphors, some of them lifeless from the first, some killed by constant repetition, or in appropriate use; and their metaphors stay in our minds they have been so often repeated. The good writer's mind is often infested with them, so that, before he can find the phrase he wants, he mart reject half a dozen that he does not want. This is the penalty that he has to pay for living at a time when literature is old and language sophisticated. London Times.

He Was a ’Piscopal.

A Northwestern missionary bishop used to tell a story which was repeated to us last week by Rev. W. W. Washington of Cuyahoga Falls. “I met an old fanner in North Dakota," he relates, “and in the course of conversation I asked him if he was connected with any religious denomination. 'Tesslr,' he answered, Tm a 'Piscopal.' “Of course this gratified ms, and I asked him what parish he belonged to. “ ‘Hadn’t heard about no parish* he said,* with a puzzled expression, “‘Well, what diocese?’ I persisted. “ ‘You got me there, too.’ "‘Where were you confirmed?* “ ‘Dunno What you mean.’ * “ ‘Then how are you an Episcopalian?’ “‘Oh,’ he answered, brightening up at once. *l*ll tell you. I went to a church down in Bismarck last winter, »n’ they called it ’Piscopal. And I heard the people sayin’ that they’d “done things they hadn’t orter done, an’ left undone things they’d orter done." An’ I says, “That’s me. to a t,” an’ since then, I’ve called myself a ’Piscopal.’ “Now I understand," continued the bishop, laughing, why the membership of our church Is so large.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. P

Character In Handwriting.

If you write a small,- almost feminine hand It may be a/slgn that yon are destined to be a great statesman, according to David N. Carvalho, who finds that small handwriting la often characteristic of gyeat men. Grover Cleveland’s handwriting was of this type and so was William McKinley’s. “You find this type of writing In the large handed men,” said Mr. Carvalho, “the men who are broad shouldered and well built, not perhaps tall.” If you are a woman and make little pothooks at the end of your final m’s and e’s you are not likely to spend much money on the latest novelties in dress, nor are you apt to bother to do your hair up In puffs. Indeed these little twists on the end of letters Indicate that you would make a sensible and economical wife. Yous defect would be that you might embarrass your husband by eccentricity In dress through caeelshsnees. A slurring penmanship indicates literary ability. .

Between Doctors.

-Doctor, I want you to look after vet office while I’m on vacation.” “Bat I’ve Just graduated, doctor. Have had no experience.” "That’s all right, my boy. My practice is strictly fashionable. Tell the man to play golf and shift the women patients off to Europe.”

Business Instinet

“Do you think a woman can keep a secret?” “No; she always tries .to syndicate It"—Judge.

Consideration.

“You wouldn’t think of letting Mm nimgilt hear the things you say b* htnd her back.” “Certainly not” replied Mrs. Stones' Storey. ‘Tin too hind hearted."

QUARRELED OVER TREE

IT HA» COST 50,000 RUPEES AND 1 A DOZEN LIVES. 1 <■ v - * fjjSk Long Series of Feuds Between Two Bengal Estates Ended by Calcutta Business Man. A certain mango tree, It appears. In growing up would not observe the boundary line between two Bengal estates and distributed its foliage and fruit Impartially over both. As a consequence the owners of the estates have spent about 50,000 rupees tn litigation, killed a dozen people and fought the bitterest armed fights. During the bearing season the tree was productive of many mangoes. The first quarrel seems to have started among the wooden folks of the two families, who insisted that the mangoes belonged to one, then the other. They even resorted to picking tbs mangoes at night until one party happened to catch the other poaching. A fight followed in which. It is said, two were killed. After this quiet reigned for some time, when the two principals met one day In a neighboring village and participated In a free-for-all fight over the Innocent tree. They were separated in a bloody condition and were fined by the police. Then followed a long series of feuds and battles covering a period of many years, during which the tree yielded Its luscious fruit to the one who happened to be cunning enough to pick it first Finally both sides established armed guards around the tree and kept watch on each other'night and day. This went on with occasional fights for several years. It was a case of one trying to wear the other one out Thousands of rupees were paid out for these special parties and fines, for burials of victims, court expenses and ammunition. It was not until Just recently that a prominent business man of Calcutta was able to settle the dispute. He asked the two land owners to Jointly deed the tree to him In return for many favors he had rendered both of them. This was finally done and he has caused a large cement circular wall to be erected about the tree, to which he has acquired full title and possession. The quarrel has not only been expensive and fatal, but has kppt a community In a constant state of hostility for many years. Any* one traveling In eastern Bengal can easily hear the story and visit the scene the feud, if sufficiently Interested In the case. The gentleman whose strategy saved the situation desires that his name should remain unknown.—Calcutta Englishman.

Through the Lines.

The young man who- had come within an inch of being run over, said he always butted across the street that way to keep folks from finding out he was a country chap unused to city ways. “If I should hang- back;” he said, “everybody would take me for a greenhorn, and I want people to think that I at least know how to- cross the street city fashion.”' “But the real town: man doesn’t cross the street in that bull-dog fashion,” said a gray-halted relative. “HO drifts with the tide, instead of butting through the middle of a wagon' he ambles along beside it watching for an opening. Sometimes he ia carried 1 % block out of Ms war in tile midst of vehicles before he finds a way out, but he Is never in danger because he. is going with the current So if you want to be set down as a man who knows the life of city streets, don’t break through a heavy fine of trafße by main force, bat follow the stream and take advantage of the pofe»t o t least resistance”

Prayer Halls In Russia.

In the villages of Russia the “prayer hall’’ Is the common “izbe” er cottage of a Stundlst mujlk. or a shed attached to a very primitive farmshed surrounded by prodigious quantities of mud, dust or snow, according to the season of the year. A separate building erected expreshly for worship among the rural evangelicals of Rueale is a luxury yet to be provided la the great majority of cases. The meeting place, whether “lxba” or outhouse, has walls of earth, it Is without ceiling. The floor Is the hare earth, trodden hard by many feed through the lapse of long years, and worn into lumps and hollow*. The walls are lime washed and destitute i of decoration or adornment. Thera J are rough wooden benches around aa AM across the room. The place la usajji ally packed to suffocation with men, women and children, crowded on tdß seats, thronglag the doorways, ad|| huddling together on the top of huge stove.:—Sunday at Home.

Making Money Rapidly.

A French newspaper has culatlng what various champions gain by the hour or by the mile. |Mnfl9K of Andre Beaumont, the aviator, work out at almost $47 ft mile. He cannot compare with tie winner Of the Grand Prlx at Ixmgehamps. As d’A tout, who won money at the rate of SS4.OQO a minute, or 138,400 a mOA; Automobile driving la 1005 p«( 4 * winner, Thery. at the rate of ssg v, mile, or $3,867 aq hour. The chief bicycle prize of France pays about $1 - 068 a mile, or from S2OO to S4OO a minute, but the tour of France for bicycles, wtarefn men have just cycled during til© llot v&fß fittlv nßva mm