Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 February 1912 — Page 3

An Expensive Lady

The Folwellß’ French car purred expensively at the door, and the French chauffeur, Gustave, aristocratically bored, looked Immovably ahead and awaited his young mite' tress, reflecting that he would have to break the speed limit if she made her train. Her trunks had gone to the station the day before. The dachshund on the back seat of the tonneau yawned In the face of the beautiful morning in early September. ' Finally Miss Katherine Folwell appeared, perfect in black broadcloth. She was palpably not intended for life’s grim realities. She would have been out of place in any setting less than luxurious She knew this. Just a year ago she had told David Robertson so, and as he had never been sure he even wanted to be rich, he dropped out of her life so effectually that it hurt She had not thought he would take her at her word. So -life bored her, which was why she had promised to go abroad with the Cheneys—she hadn’t seen May since their college days, though they lived far out in some suburb and.had only lately inherited enough money to justify‘trips—and leaving their two children. Gustave straightened and gasped — politely—as his mistress took her seat and gave her order. “To' the country—anywhere! I’ve given up my trip,” she said. He touched his cap, and they were Off. -- ■» "I couldn’t have endured it,” she said half aloud” —the old round of getting away from yourself in dirty foreign places. I’ve got to live with myself anywhere I go, and I like it here as well as any place. The country is at least peaceful.” The car slipped up the avenue, past the clangor of downtown, through the residence district, from woodsy suburbs toward the river The sun was hot, but the fresh wind cooled her cheek. Finally they were gliding slowly past pretty little cottages, wide' apart, flowersurrounded, almost real country. Then, without warning, the car stopped with a jar, and Gustave, all apology, was out trying' the machinery. He ended by crawling beneath the motor, and after much tinkering, came out hot and' explanatory. She was deaf to explanations. She didn’t care. "Pardon, but the sun is hot. It 'may take an hour to mend. Will Ma’amselle seek a cool spot? That .garden, perhaps T” He waved with iGalllc grace at a cottage they had passed where children played in a garden. She soothed Gustave’s excitement with a smile and wandered up to the place. This was the sort of 'thing David Robertson had dreamed she might share with him, a bungalow guarded by a private hedge and is sentinel row of flaming hollyhocks. She, too, had been among dream possessions then she saw the children, blonde, rosy little people, and brought herself up with a 'start She would not let herself includechildren tn herreverte of 'David. His Income could never have {brought the dream of his love into 'reality. Katharine spoke to the little ones hanging over the gate. “Good mornin’,’’ answered the six-year-old immovably. "’Lo," placidly returned the four-year-old boy. "Does you love hollyhocks!” Katharine said that she adored them. Then she explained about the broken-down pfotor and asked if she could come m their garden a while. 'Would their mother care? They were suddenly solemn. "Mother’s gone to the end of the world,” she said quaintly, "and Mrs. ificott is drefful sick and Auntie Bess is to her house and we’re to stay right here so’s she can see us till nurse comes home.” It came in a breathless sentence, as the child clung to her little brother. , <U*Tm sorry 'bout the car, an’ you can come in an’ play with us If you’ll •be good.” She sank down on the green grass, removed her hat and tried to woo the thy boy her a kiss. He ■would not, but broke a handful of hollyhocks without stems and put thom gravely in her lap. The girt, Janey. **■ hanging over a,bed of TOignonette like a white butterfly. When Gustave’s hour and more had passed. Katharine looked up from her clumsy telling of the story of the “three bears,” to hear more excuses. He could not repair the machine. It would have to be towed tn. Would ma’amselle take a train, or ■wait several hours untn he ■ came ■with the other car? He stood waiting, and a sudden whim possessed her. . V'-'.' “I will come on the train. Don’t come back for me. I may stop to make a visit Tell Marie not to expect me.” She would net be robbed of this new amusement—she seldom had been with children, and the sweet little experience was bringing Iter a queer happiness. With much prompting she - told some of the familiar chljd-qtories, and then, wondering at heroqifi - made up fairy stories witfran ease that brought the Mttto one* snuggling dose to her. n<h.y told about thenmdves

By JOANNA SINGLE

(Cop/right, igtx, by Associated Literary Prate.)

"Father had to take mother to the end of the world,” said David, the boy. “And now you’re here, we can go to Uncle Dee's and see the ducks." The children were on their feet in a moment, pulling her up by W hands, drawing her after them through a gap in the hedge into a sunken garden, exquisitely Japanese, with a pool where floated mandarins with clipped wings. Everything was delicately perfect—even the brown bungalow off to the left was a deUghtv;= The children • threw themselves upon her, hugging her. “What’s your name?” they asked, and she answered, -. “Kittle, because I love soft places,” and she threw off her big plumed hat David rose and began to stick the pink hollyhocks into her crown of sunny hair, and time passed. Peace came into Katharine’s mind, a Presently the boy announced, with masculine force, that he was hungry. She saw that the noon hour had passed, and rose. They pulled her back through the hedge toward their own cottage. She would have gone anywhere. "Uncle Dee lias only beer in his ice-box, and he borrows lemons from us,” said the girl quaintly. "He don’t keep house —and he hasn’t a wife at all. It’s lonesome 1 for him. “It’s too bad," replied Katharine. “He might get one.” “He was going to, but she was too ’■pensive,” sighed the girl. Kit thought of David Robertson, and the humor died out of her eyes. Had she condemned him to a life of loneliness? The boy rambled on explaining. r ” ’Spenslve means what you can’t afford to buy, like a wife, or a pony,” he sighed ecstatically. At the dodr of the cottage they met Aunt Bess. She stared, and then she and Katlinrlne flew into each other’s arms. * “Elizabeth Norton! Where did you spring from?" “May and Tom imported me to guard the kiddies while they go round the globe—thought you were going, too? Haven’t seen you in years! Heaven must have sent you today. The nurse was called away, and Mrs. Scott, next door, is ill. I must go back and help, Will you go in and feed yourself and the babies and promise to stay all night’with me?” Katharine promised. "Go in and get into one of May’s house dresses and keep house —though I’ll wager you never lifted a cup! I must go.” Katharine entered her old friend’s room, and presently came out radiant in a pale blue wash-dress to play with her friend’s children. She remembered wistfully that she might have married their uncle and been their real aunt. Where was David now? She did not even know —probably gone "to the end of the world” also. Then she lost herself in simple service, a luxury she had never known, the sweetness of feeding little children. Her past society life seemed suddenly futile, empty. And while thebabessleptawsythe late afternoon she came to her real, sweet, true self. She knew where happiness was to be found, and if David Robertson had been in her world she would have swallowed her pride and sent for him. . Presently it was after 6, and she was eating bread and milk with the kiddies when she • heard a whistle. The children ran like wild things, and came back dragging in a big, deep-voiced, handsome man with young eyes and dark hair gray at the temples, "Here’s Uncle Dee, Kittie!" they shrieked. "Here he is!" She stood white and overcome before David Robertson. Her eyes burned like blue flame, and then fell before his devouring glance. "O David,” she faltered. “O David! —I am so—sorry ’’ In that second she had seen all his hurt and loneliness; and something melted the hardness of her heart. She flung her arm up around her eyes with a childlike movement Then she began to cry in his arms whilebe kissed her. The children, overawed, held tightly to one another. It was long before they even remembered ♦W children. Then Unde * Dee stooped and gathered them into his arms. “Now I’m going to have a wife ” be explained grandly, waving a hand at Katherine. Little David looked her over doubtfully. "Ain’t you. too—’spenslve?” he queried. "Not—any morel” she declared joyously. “It costs me too much to live without the only things—l really want.”

A Success.

Husband—How was the woman’s session? Wife—Best time 1 erer had. I was ths best dressed woman present—

The Old Story.

Young Wife (angrily)—Anito finish op with, air, you’re a hrntn..'

NAVAJOS'S ART STILL LIVES

ON THE WARPATE

UNLIKE many of the arts andcrafts of the American Indian, the work, of the Navajo silversmith and other artisans is showing no deterioration. In factthose who are in a position to judge state that some of the modern examples of native silversmithing on the Navajo reservation are superior in every way to the best examples of earlier work of the redskinned craftsmen of the forge. At the fourth annual fair of Navajo Indians, which was held recently, there was a dazzling display of this native silverware, showing the native artists at their best. Probably $5,000 worth of Navajo jewelry was on exhibition, most of it being made up in purely native designs. The prise collection was the work of Chis-chil-le (Curly Hair), a silversmith who lives near the trading post of Two Gray Hills, fifty miles south of Shiprock, N. M. Chis-chil-le is a middle-aged Indian, who has been a silversmith since his youth. In fact his is a family of silversmiths, the trade being handed down from father to son, much as trades are handed down in some European communities. Chls-chil-le, like other Navajo silversmiths, uses only the crudest implements in making his silverware. His forge is a square of stones and adobe, the center having a round depression for a fireplace. The smoke is carried off and a draft created by two wooden tubes, covered with adobe to keep from burning, walled to the rear of the forge. His bellows is made of sheepskin, and his anvil is a hard stone or a piece of ison. Any silversmith who can get a piece of railroad iron is looked upon with envy by his fellow-craftsmen who must use forges of cruder material. The crucibles for melting silver are of hard clay, and are generally about the size of tumblers, with round bottoms, and with curved rims provided with spouts for pouring off the molten metal. The mtolds which are used by the native silversmiths are generally cut out of hard sandstone, and are greased with mutton tallow. Charcoal is used for fuel, the Indians being very clever at making it from juniper logs. Generally the smith's blowpipe is a piece of hollow brass tubing. For polishing he uses sandstone and ashes, and for Phasing and engraving unique designs on* the silverware he uses nothing more than pocketknives, awls and small files. With such implements the Navajo silversmith has been working for the last sixty years, there being no record of silversmithing in the tribe previous to that date. The Indians do not care for more elaborate implements but cling to the tools with which they have been familiar for years. The effects they secure with these crude implements are nothing short of amazing, the chasing on some of the Navajo silverware being equal to the better grade of work turned out of highgrade jewelry establishments. There is no reason to believe that the Navajos learned silversmithing from the early Spaniards, as many people believe. The Spanish explorers were inveterate keepers of diaries and other records. Nothing escaped their observation, and if they had found silversmiths among the Navajo tribe—at that time even more warlike than the Apache—there is every reason to believe that some record would have been made of the fact It is likely that the craft was learned from the Mexicans at a later era,, and it has continued to grow in importance until It rivals the blanket-making industry for which the tribe has become worldfamous. While the blanket weaving is strictly k woman’s occupation among the Navajo people, silversmithing is kept as strictly among the men. A woman silversmith has never been heard of among the Navajos, nor is there any record of a male rug weaver, though among the Hopis and other southwestern tribes, the men do most of the weaving. The Navajo silversmiths do not use ■Over bullion for their work. They prefer silver coins, for the reason that the minted silver has the right proportion of alloy to make enduring ornaments. Mexican dollars, which command only their bullion value, are generally used, these are melted and run into the various molds, and, after a laborious process of polishing an< chasing, come out as finished ornaments. ~ --T- ■ The art of the Navajo silversmith is nowhere shown to better advantage than in the manufacture A the silver

BASKET MAKER

necklaces which are worn by men and women and which form the most elaborate and costly pieces of Navajo jewelry. These necklaces consist of beads of silver, ranging from the size of a pea to globules an inch in diameter. The larger beads are finished with pendant-like projections, cleverly graduated as to size. The larger beads, with these pendants, hang on the breast, and generally a very striking effect is secured by alternating the beads with turquoise or bits of coral. The cost of such a necklace varies according to the Vorkmanship represented in the beads and the value of the coral or turquoise that is used to set off the silver. TT Most of the articles made by the NaVajo silversmith are sold to members (rs the tribe, for probably no other people in the world have such a fondness for jewelry, especially of massive design. The Navajo likes plenty of precious metal in his jewelry. The wire bracelets and rings are all right for the Americans who stray the reservation, but the Navajo wears five or six heavy silver rings, with turquoise settings, a bracelet' or two, sometimes four or five inches in width and correspondingly heavy, a belt of huge silver discs about his waist, a massive silver necklace on his breast, elaborate silver mountings on his bridle, jacket buttons made of dimes, and huge turquoise earrings dangling from the lobes of his ears. These, with the inevitable Navajo blanket, about his shoulders, go a long way toward making the Navajo a strikingly picturesque figure.

HAD HIGH OPINION OF TURKS

Gen. Mlles In Eulogy of the Fighting Force Put In the Field by Sultan’s Empire* During the spring of 1897 the war between Turkey and Greece broke out and Gen. Nelson A. MileA. was ordered, to Europe to observe the military operations. His opinion of the Turkish army he gives in his book, "Serving the Republic:” "The Turkish army, which we hear less about than any other, is a well organized, disciplined army, numbering at that time 700,000 effective men. It is trained to look upon the sultan as the spiritual head of their religion on earth, Thlshas the effect on the mind of the Turk of inspiring the belief that in serving his sultan he is serving his God. There is certainly one advantage in their religion, in that it maintains absolute sobriety. The use of liquor is abhorrent to the Mohammedan, and results in their army being an absolutely temperate organization. The personnel of their army is made up of strong men, and their military establishment is conducted with great economy. "I had an audience with the sultan and was cordially received by the high officials of the Turkish army. The manner of his assuming sovereign power, the fact of his keeping his elder brother a prisoner in a palace just above Constantinople on the Bosporus for over twenty years, had prejudiced me somewhat before meeting him. On seing him I found a man of small stature, keen, sharp face, cold, black, cruel eyes, black hair and full beard. In conversation I found him thoroughly familiar with military affairs and deeply interested in the condition of his army. "Great reverses occur in political as well as in other walks of life, and it Is somewhat remarkable that, after thiran autocratic position is now a prisoner practically in the same condition as his brother was at the time, and his brother enjoys the liberty and authority which he had been deprived of for so many years.” -

Parisians Evidently Honest.

An astute rogue who hoped to make his fortune by speculating on the petty dishonesty sometimes latent in otherwise respectable people has had an unprofitable experience in Parts. The swindler haunted the streets in the neighborhood of the opera, which swarm with work-girls during the luncheon hour, and dropped here and there envelopes bearing an Orleans address. In each envelope was a note asking a “friend" to redeem for at an address be gave a gold purse value |53. Instead of the expected hunt the SWtedUr fnrinri to his disgust that almost an the letters were sent on to him by the finders, while none had attemDted to the dotm.

FINGER PRINTS TELL TALES

Absolute Identification Certain When the Practiced Sleuth Takes Up the Trail. Many years ago Mark Twain, in his delightful story of "Puddin’ Head Wilson,” declared that every man'* identity, and often, even his destiny, is always on his finger tips. Twice on one day this has been recognized tn different parts of the country. It was found that the men who used a launch for the purpose of taking dynamite from the Giant powder works were not the McNamaras. Several finger prints completely exploded the theory. They are, however, the tracks by which others may be overtaken. There could be no doubt that "Edgar R. Jay” arrested in St. Louis for forgery a week after he had married, is Jay Gould Hay, alias Jay Gould, alias Jule Lee. He can not escape the identity of his finger prints at the Indiana and Missouri reformatories. It was only last year that there were two remarkable warnings to the criminal class to wear gloves. Charles Crisp! was arrested and convicted for burglary in New York solely because he left behind on window glass four finger marks. They were only a few hairline etchings, but they singled out of millions of people the only one who could have made them. It was difficult to obtain a jury that would convict on finger print evidence alone, but when it was shown that there is only one’ chance in sixty-four billions that two finger prints will be alike, that there was no great likelihood of any two of the 1,600,000,000 people now on the earth being able to make the same finger markings, the prisoner gave up. Again, in New York, was the remarkable case growing out of the murder of Isaac Vogel, ah itinerate jewel broker. It was a single imprint of a finger on a silver cigarette case that led to the arrest of Joseph Thus far finger print evidence la; associated in the public mind with criminology. But the day may come when people registering to vote will be required to press their thumb down next to their names. Philadelphia reformers, who are battling against the floater and duplicate voting system, advocate It. They insist that it is only-a step beyond requiring the voter to write his name at registration and again—by the side of the first signature—when he comes to vote. It is thought the finger print would stop floaters. \ . t

Belasco’s Flowery Apology.

David Belasco, who bows with such modesty before the curtain calls that greet the presentation of his dramatic successes, occasionally loses his temper during rehearsals of plays, and when he gets angry he does the thing up brown. For the time being, there isn’t a peaceful thought in his fertile brain. When he began the rehearsals of “Sweet Kitty Bellairs,” Miss Henrietta Crossman, the star of the piece, warned him that he must not scold her. A few before the first public production, however, Belasco broke out in one of his fine tempers, and Miss Crosman, with head in the air, left the stage and the theater. She was walking rapidly up the street when she heard the rush of footsteps behind her. Turning around, she saw tile manager, with bls arms full of flowers. These he held out to her imploringly. . This tribute effected a reconciliation.Ontheway baektothetheater the star noticed a flower stand com-, pletely denuded of its stock. Belasco in his pursuit of the fleeing actress, had bought all the flowers in sight.— From Twlce-a-month Popular Magazine. * . . —..

Bother the Button!

AH know the annoying habit buttons have of coming off at a moment when they are most needed, says "Answers." It seems sometimes as though nothing short .of wire thread will keep them in their places; and even wire breaks away from the cloth. When next you are sewing on a button, follow these directions, and that button will never trouble you again. Place your button, take a hairpin—a strong one—and lay it across the button, then sew it over the hairpin. When you have put as much thread through the eyep as they will B’ld, withdraw the hairpin. Then push the needle through near the button, pull the ( hutton up, and wrap the thread several times round between the button and garment. Fasten the thread on the under side of the button, and then you will find that that button Win stay on until the garment is worn out

Cooking the ’Possum.

Mayor Bryan Callaghan of San A» tonlo, Tex., Is very fond of ’possum and is particular about the way it is prepared for the table. He gives the following directions: "Never plunge a ’pos—in into boiling water. That hardens the flesh and makes it tough. First bleed the *possum, and after it is drawn immerse it in a pot of cold water and bring the water to a boil. After being parboiled for a reasonable time, take K out, put some laurel leaves, a little oil and some chill peppers inside it and pack in ice and put aside for a day or two. "When ready to be cooked, put it into a bake pin and surround with sweet potatoes, brown to A turn and you have a dish that is aboyt as deHclous as any that can be prepared.”

SELECTED QUEER PETS

GRIZZLY BEAR CUBS TRAINED BY TRAPPER. Amusing and Playful After Their Capturer Had Conquered the Call of the Wild—As Easy to Train As Any Dog. One day while wandering in the pine woods on the slope of Mount Meeker I Came upon two young grizzly bears. Though they dodged about as lively a chickens, I at last cornered. them in a penlike pocket of fallen trees. , . Getting them into a sack was one of the liveliest experiences I ever had. Though small and almost starved, these litle orphans proceeded to "chew me up” after the manner of big grizzlies, as is told of them in books. After an exciting chase and tussle I would catch one and thrust him into the sack. In resisting ho would insert his claws into my clothes, or thrust them through the side of the sack; then, while I was trying to tear him loose, or to thrust him forcibly in, he would lay hold of a finger, or take a bite in my leg. Whenever he bit I at once dropped him, and then all began over again. Their mother had been killed a few days before I found them; so, of course, they were famished and in need of a home; but so bitterly did they resist my efforts that I barely succeeded In taking them. Though hardly as large as a collie when he is at his prettiest, they were nimble athletes. At last I started home, the sack over my shoulder, with these lively Ursus horribilis in the bottom of it. Their final demonstration was not needed to convince me of the extraordinary power of their jaws. Nevertheless, while going down a steep slope one managed to bite into my back through sack and clothes, so effectively that I responded with a yell. Then I fastened the sack at the end of a long pole, which I carried across my shoulder, and I was able to travel the remainder of the distance to my cabin without another attack in the rear. . Of course the youngsters did not need to be taught to eat. I simply pushed their noses down into a basin of milk, and the litle red tongues at once began to ply; then raw eggs and bread were dropped Into the basin. There was no hesitation between courses; they simply gobbled the food as long as I kept it before them. Jenny and Johnny were pete before sundown. Though both were alert, Johnny was the wiser and more cheerful of the two. He took training as readily as a collie or shepherd, dog, and I have never seen any dogmore playful. All hears are keen of .wit, but he was the brightest one of* the wild folk that I have ever known. He grew rapidly, and ate me almost out of supplies. We were intimatefriends in less than a month, and 1. spent much time playing and talking, with him. One of the first things 1 taught him vm, when hungry, ,to stand erect with arms extended‘almost horizontally, with palms forward. I also taught him to greet me in this manner.—From the Spell of the Rockies, by Enos A. Mills.

Craig's Crazes.

Gordon Craig, who interlards Ms sapient utterances wtth moretlmn average man’s nonsensical lapses, perpetrates this: ‘1 take an entirely common sense view of the man and his motives. He simply succeeded in performing in two months a task that has been tried in every court in Europe for centuries. He set out to cleanse social and official life of its moral grime* and Its degeneracy. He set about bls task with direct purpose, and with the full enthusiasm of a young, virile, and cruelly wronged man. His ideas were logical, and he reasoned and thought out eyery movement and act during that brief/time of storm and stress that ended in tragedy. That is my idea of Hamlet.” Apropos of which the Nation tartly remarks: "It that really Is Mr. Craig’s notion of Hamlet, there does not seem to be much reason why he should be encouraged to promulgate it. What fatality is it that condemns so many enthusiastic stage reformers to be freakish?"

Beneficent Scheme.

Mr. Spotcaah (at the club)—Doing anything far your employes this winter ? r—kr. Maynchantx—l’m going to give every man, woman and child in my shops a pleasant surprise next month. Mr. Spoteaah—Glad to hear JU What’s the scheme? Mr, Maynchantx—You know the month comes in on Tbursday,and this is a leap year. Well, I’m going to make Thursday the pay-day for a. few weeks, so they'll have five paydays in February. It’ll tickle ’em ’ most to death.

A Fine Model.

"It is doubtful,” said the author of entertaining sea stories, “whdtw|; ji man ought to attempt to write things outside of his personal observation.’” "But take your own case. You are writing oi pirates* yet you nercr ww one.” "No. I nevgr saw one. I want to write a good description et a pirate, I shut my eyes and of my publisher.”