Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 163, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 July 1912 — Page 3

HER LUCK NOT ALL DESERVED

Printed Prayer . Responsible for Return of Pocketbook Only There by Accident. .' She had been paying visits most of the afternoon, and on reaching home and putting away her wraps she discovered that her cardcase was misslng. In it had been a dollar or two, her cards and a certified check for S2OO, which she had intended to deposit, but had been too late for her bank. “Heavens,” Bhe exclaimed, "shall 1 ever see it again?” and sat down in her despair to think over everywhere she had been and might have left it. Suddenly the telephone bell rang. "Are you Miss Blank, and. have you lost anything?” inquired the person at the other end. "Yes: I have just discovered the loss of my cardcase.” “What was in it?” said the voice. "My Cards, some money, a certified check for S2OO, and, oh, yes! a little prayer on a slip of paper. Did you see that?” “Yes,” said the voice; T picked the case up. And just let me tell you that it was that prayer that has brought your property back to you.” The cardcase owner heaved a sigh of relief and thought how lucky It was for her that a Catholic friend had slipped the little printed prayer into her cardcase last summer.

PROBLEM FOR THE SCIENTIST

How ,May the Energy of the Sun, at Present Largely Wasted, Be Utilizel to Advantage? The enormous energy which is constantly poured out by the sun is almost past the comprehension of the lay mind. Measurements have shown that on a clear sunny day the sun transmitted to the earth energy which corresponded to about 7,000-horsepower per acre. At present all that is practically wasted. Attempts have from time to time been made to utilize this enormous supply of energy, but not with any great measure of success. If people only knew how to harness it they could, at the expense of lowering the temperature of the .earth by a degree or so, obtain all the power necessary to perform the work of the world. Only about three-fifths of the energy sent to the earth from the sun is appreciable to the eye as light. If the sun were twice aB hot as it is, four-fifths would be appreciable In that way, and If it were still hotter the whole of the energy would affect the eye as light. Radiant energy is not heat; that is, the energy of the sun does not reach the earth in the form of heat. It is not heat at all until it falls on bodies whose temperature can be raised. It might rather be called electricity; in fact, it is a form of electricity, for all the methods used to detect and measure radiant energy depend upon absorbing it and transforming it into heat

Loan a of Honor.

Tip never had a mite of patience with the fellow who looks with such reverence on a debt of honor. As a rule the debt of honor chap doesn’t fret a bit about bilking his grocer. But an experiment with “loans of honor” —put in the right places— has shown the average person is honest. Several years ago public spirited men “got together” at Lyons and formed what they called a Loan and Honor society. The purpose was to furnish money to - clerks, laborers and apparently to any poor and needy persons. No other security than the borrower’s word was asked. In 1910-11 money was lent to 384 individuals. Sixty-eight of these were women. All but twenty-seven of the borrowers were married. Sickness made 119 of the loans necessary; less of work, 83; previous debts, 84, and starting housekeeping, 27. The sums borrowed varied from $6 to S6O. During its several years of existence the society has lost only S2OO. Tes, the average person is not a thief. —New York Press.

“Solid Gold.”

Commercially speaking, the term “solid gold” is a misnomer, since such gold has not been used for many, many years. Some of the ancient Roman jewelry and Some of that of the Renaissance period was, Indeed, made of pure gold, worked up by hand with the crudest of tools, but since the old days there has been a constantly increasing employment of alloys, for the reason that jewelers found that the harder the gold was rendered by good alloys the greater its wearing qualities and the more secure, therefore, was the setting of the gems it contained. Nowadays jewelry is of 18, 14 or 10 carats, according to the design and character of the article, and it is much mom frequently ten than eighteen carats.

Youthful Musical Genius.

Rennes, a eleepy Yfctttany town, which ip known in contemporary history chiefly because the second Dreyfus court-martial was held there, has recently discovered /In midst a ■ musical prodigy. A local professor vouches for this discovery. Young Rene Guinea is aged seven. He is not only a virtuoso on the pihub; he is also a composer. ' He possesses ear to a remarkable degree, and distinguishes every note in symphonic music. According to the master, be hears music inwardly. He composes for voices and instruments without making use of nay instrument whatever, writing down melody and accompaniment on to th» paper. ~ ' _ , ■,

A Change of Heart

By Lois Willoughbyby

(Copyright, MIX by Associated literary 1 Press.) L The president’s outer office was be-, lng enlarged and generally made over during his trip abroad. The room was In confusion—the floor covered with tools, boards of all lengths and sizes, and general debris. Over in one corner was a saw bench which bore many marks of antiquity, and on it sat the old carpenter—" Dad” they called him. He had finished his lunch and was contentedly puffing atway at his pipe, and as he smoked ha-looked down at.the sawdust and, shavings which surrounded him. "There ain’t no use talkin’, “he said to the stenographer, “mahogany makes pretty shavin’s, and I’ve planed off lots of them the last few years. They’re puttin’ on considerable trimmin’s in offices nowadays. A man don’t do business any more—no, sir—he transacts it, and he transacts it right up to the latest style, too. “I never get in one of these business parlors but I think o’ Bill. Bill was good company and I miss him lots. He was a good worker, too, and you just set him down in some meek and lowly place and tell him what had to be done, and he’d light into it like fury. But when we’d get sent on Borne of. these jobs where the buildin’ was strictly up to date, Bill’d go all to pieces. He couldn’t stand mahogany any way you fix it; he was a regular porcupine the minute he spied it If there happened to-be a fancy shade over the electric light—Tlff’ny, I guess they call it —it made him all the madder; and he threw a quill ev’ry time he saw the boss push one of them little pearl buttons in a silver frame. “ ‘You’re all wrong, Bill,’ I used to tell ’im. ‘lf cuttin’ up a few square feet of mahogany into strips and nailin’ it on to thq wall is goin’ to make a man happy—let ’im have it —maybe it’s only baywood anyway; and if smashing colored glass into ragged pieces and solderin’ it together with

“You’re All Wrong, Bill,” I Used to Bay to Him.

iron, pleases him—let’s be pleasant And there ain’t no use kickin’ about them push buttons; he ain’t got time to stand out in the hall and yell every time he wants anybody. Them bells ain’t as stylish as you think they are.' "It wasn’t much use tryin’ to argue with him, but I was such, an old fool I used to try it. Why, when noon would come and we was alone, Bill’d glare and growl like a crazy man and he’d harangue something fierce. ‘Shut up,’ I says to him one day, ‘the first thing you know the place’ll be pinched and maybe they’ve got the cells done in mahogany now.’ "It was just ign’rance with Bill—he couldn’t understand human nature—didn’t know everybody had it When wa worked for one erf them Plutocrats. as he called them, he’d spend a whole hour In the morning foolin’ around with bis tools Mid layin* them this way and then that—just killin’ time; and when 'twas about time for -the captain of industry to blow In, Bill’d watoii the door like a cat watches a mouse hole, and he’d always manage to he doin’ nothin'—Just nothin’— when the captain walked through. That was about all the -fun Bill had. "Maybe I didn’t give- Bill due credit, for I guess be knew somethin’ about human nature after all; be knew that would make the captain mad. It usually did, and Bill would get as near as he could to the door to the private offioeand listen to him kickin’ about tt The captain would be riled up all day long and we’d hear him tell ev*ry man that went in his office how awfully capital was being cheated and robbed by the workin’ classes; how ’twas an outrage, a downright outrage, that the money interests should be so Imposed upon by unscrupulous labor, and that some day—some day—l always have to laugh when I think how toe used to double up cm them ‘some days’—that some day the Interests of capital would be protected by law. I was kind o’ sorry tor Gap, for he' actually thought he meant It while he pas talkin’. "Bill’d be reasonably contended all

day If the captain had enough callers, but long about quittin’ time he’d get downhearted and glum, and I’d say; ’What’s the matter, Bill? You’ve had the captain upeet all day, you ought to be happy—hear him kickin’ plow.’ ’Yes,’ says BtU, ‘but he’s gettin’ about $lO a minute for kickin’.’ "If we ever had a long stuck-up Job, Bill got so cantankerous there was hardly any livin’ with him. One afternoon the captain was gone and we was workin’ along as peaceful, and suddenly Bill stopped his 1 work and fairly roared at me: ‘What does he know about trouble? He never had any.’ * “I didn’t know what be was thlnkin’ about In particular, but It wouldn’t have made any difference If I had, ’cos Bill had on sort of a blanket grouch—lt covered everything. So I says to him: ‘You don’t know what you're talkin’ about I heard the captain tcinr a man this Yfioalng what an awful time he had playin’ golf yesterday. He said he got in a highly critical place—them are his words — and he couldn’t tell for the life of him what golf stick to use. He could remember just exactly how the play ought to be made, but he couldn’t remember what to do it with. First he thought ’twas the driver —then he thought ’twasn’t. It kind of seemed like ’twas the brassie, and then allowed ’twas the mid-iron; then he felt pos’tive ’twas the putter. I didn’t happen to hear what the right one was, but Judgin' from some of the language Iheard him use after he specified, he didn’t get it. ‘“Now, Bill,’ I says, ’that’s trouble and It’s just as bad trouble as' you have when you can’t tell what tool to use, and after you’ve tried everything from a rabbit plane to a gouge, find out you’ve foozled the door jamb. Them woes are alike, r I says, ’and you ought to be more considerate.’ But Bill was a little short on good common sense at times. “There was something about Bill you couldn’t help likin’, but if anybody else’d had his notions I would o’ been all put out with them. Of course, I didn’t like ’em in Bill, hut somehow I always felt he wasn’t so bad —Just young and a little mißguided. “Once he come In where I was, Just as forlorn. I didn’t stop work —I just said ‘Well?’ “‘What chance have I got with them college fellows?’ he demanded. ‘“Oh, shucks,’ says I, because he did try my patience a lot at times. ‘lf you want somebody else’s chance, pick on a chap your own size.’ "It seems he drove a nail more than he’d intended to; he’d made up his mind to do jus’ so much that day, and he got to thlnkin’ about his wrongs and forgot and went right on workin’. He said if you went to college they taught you to concentrate, and if he could have concentrated op not doin’ the work as he’d figured, it would o’ been all right. “Well, I was sick for a spell and Bill kind of drifted ft way from me. He fell In love with a girl who was pretty ambitious and she liked him, too, but she saw his faults. He was ratin’ around one day about capital and plutocrats and tellin’ what ought to happen to them, and I tell you Sodom and Gomorrah got it light compared to. what Bill was goin’ to hand out. *Hlt it easy, Bill,’ she says, ’as smart a man as you ought to be a plutocrat himself some day; maybe you’re only plannln’ suicide.' ' "That made Bni awfurinad, but T guess on due deliberation he seen things a little different. He never let on, though, for a long time. She went out west and got the second prize In a land drawln'. He tried to hate her because she wasn’t poor and downtrodden any more, but she just laughed at him. “They got married and went out to live on the ranch. Gut o’ doors seemed to do. Bill a lot of good, and things kept cornin’ their way right along. He made a lot of money on sheep, and I guess by this time he’s rich. The last I heard about him he was goin’ at a pretty rapid clip and lookin’ over airship catalogues. "Alf Simmons stopped to see him when he was out west. He says Bill sent me a special invitation to come an’ visit him. Alf says I ought to go; says he’s just as sociable aB can be and ain’t changed a bit toward the old crowd. He says, though, that Bill has acquired a ravenous appetite for a lot of things he used to think was poison. "His last fad was fancy hens, and Alf said when he was a-goin' through the henhouse he saw a dull mahogany frame with a dozen solid pearl push buttons In it; that every time a hen lays an egg she has to press a button so Bill’ll be advised right up to date. “Alf told me how nice he was livin’; told me all about his house, mahogany trlmmin’s all through, and everything nice. Of course I know he was just havin’ a litle fun with me about them hens, but I would like to know if Bill really got TilFny windows in his garage.”

Judge Hoar's Retort

On innumerable occasions when Judge Hoaf Indulged In the retort mordant perhaps none gave him greater satisfaction than the following: B. P. Butler, his chief adversary at the bar in the early fifties, as the counsel for the defense, closed an emphatic appeal to the Jury with: “We have the highest authority for saying: 'Everything which a man hath will he give for his life.* ” When Hoar's torn came he said. “It has for a long time been suspected by fidao who have watched Mr. Butler’s career that he recognised as the highest authority the Individual upon whom he now relies. Fbr, gentlemen, as you well know, the statement which he quotes from the book of Job was made by Satan."

Shut Your Mouth

If you make an awkward slip, Get the worst end of a deal. Keep a stiffened upper lip, < Don’t express the things you feel. Wait the turning of the wheel rr / Working from the miry rut; Even when the logs is real, Shut your mouth and keep it abut. When old Trouble swinge the whip, Stand and (£ke it; never kneel. Never loosen on your grip, Tighten in a clutch of steel. Pretty soon the scars will heal. You can let your jawbone jut. ' Don’t complain and don’t appeal, Shut your mouth and keep it shut. Here’s a mighty useful tip: Don’t rely on friendly zeal. • Let the old contraption rip. Sympathy will soon congeal. Wounds are what you should conceal, Be they e’er so deeply cut, Seres- are - what the fools Teveal, Shut your mouth and keep It shut. L’ENVOI. Be your portion woe or weal, Still in palace or in hut, Take what comes and never squeal, Shut your mouth and keep it shut.

HIS IDEA.

“Shure, an’ ivery toime I feels In me trousers’ pocket fer me knife, ’tie always in the ither pocket." “Thin yez ought to look In the Ither pocket first.”

SURE THING.

"You must testify only to what you know; so hearsay evidence.” “Yes. sir.” 5 “What is four age?” “I’ve only hearsay evidence on that point”

OF COURSE.

“Every man thinks his town is the finest place on earth.” “We should apply this tendency to our other surroundings in life. It shows that we can all be contented if we want to be.”

WONDERFUL WILL.

“Is your aged uncle a man of great willpower?” ——Ti "I should say so. Why he’s got ten millions to will.”

POSTED.

“Beg pardon! T don’t suppose you “You bet your sweet life I do! If I didn’t I wouldn’t be sitting #it' me feet on de desk like dis.”

Lady Pamela’s Dishonorable Deed

(Oopyrlfbt, mi, by Ateteteteß Literary Prate.) I was staying with Lady Pamela at her lovely honse in town. Lady Pamela and I had been at school together and later had spent two years "finishing" in France and Germany. Then we had come home; and the next time I heard from her she was engaged to Lord Gerald Lumley. Six months later they were married, and, after seemingly endless globe-trot-ting, bad settled down at Lumley Court in Kent. That was fifteen years ago, and since then Lady Pamela haa never missed having me with her for a month or so during the London season. ■ - v... —- “Let us have a quiet evening together, Helen,” she had said one afternoon. And I had heartily agreed, for the bustle and fatigue of dinner parties, theaters and balls during the last three weeks had thoroughly tired me. I drifted into Lady Pamela's boudoir and found her gazing with thoughtful eyes at a little silver casket she held in her hand. Slowly she opened the delicate silver box and took from it a visiting card. Then she put It back and closed the box with a tiny snap. "Pamela!” I said. “You look quite serious. There must be some tragla tale connected with that card.” Lady Pamela started. Then she smiled. “There Is a story, Helen, but it Is hardly tragle—at least to the person most concerned. It happened eight years ago. Gerald and I were staying in this very house, and I was giving a'dance —one of the biggest of the season. “I had staying with me at the time a very beautiful girl. Her name was Cyuthla Carruthers. It was her first season and London had gone wild over her. On the night of the ball Cynthia came to me. I knew she was in trouble or difficulty, but had not asked her anything, knowing that It would all come out sooner or later. And It did that evening. “It appeared there were two men—only two —whom she really cared for. Both were to be at the ball and both, she expected, would propose to her. ‘The poor girl was nearly distracted. Bhe could not decide which to accept and came to me as helpless as a baby. “The two men were Major Bewsher and Lieutenant Carstairs. Both were handsome. Carstairs was young, and poor as a rat Bewsher had money. Of him I had my suspicions. Monte Carlo—drink—cards. Nothing serious, of course, but there all the same. “I liked the boy Carstairs, but knew little about him. “ ‘Well, Cynthia,’ I remember saying, ‘you must take Major Bewsher and give up Carstairs,’ ‘Oh! no, no, no,’ she had cried, and when I said ‘Very well, then take Carstairs, you silly girl,' she burst into sobs and said she could not give up Bewsher, end so on. —„„—.„.l. “In fapt the girl simply did not know her own mind, and begged me to decide for her. ‘“Very well,’ I said, ‘I will do so—or rather I shall help you to decide for yourself. But you must promise to abide by whatever decision, we come to.’ “She promised. “’You see this box,' I explained, 'and you see these two cards. On them. I have written the names of your two admirers. You will draw <me from the box and you must accept the man whose name you draw.’ “She turned very pale; then with an effort she reached for the box and with trembling fingers drew out one of the cards, v “ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘and who is the lucky man?* And she whispered •Carstairs.’ "That evqplng Carstairs proposed. Cynthia accepted and they were married shortly afterward. Then bis regiment was ordered out to India and she went with him. Five years later, when Carstairs had come Into money and a title, and Bewsher had, well—shot himself in the Casino Gardens, I met Cynthia. • "From a beautiful girl she had grown into ft beautiful woman. She had two darling boys and was as happy as a woman can be. I invited her down to Lumley Court “One evening she showed me a visiting card. It was one of my own, and on it was written the name ‘Carstairs.’ It was the card she had drawn on the evening of the ban. She told me she treasured It as her most priceless possession, and—and this, Helen, is the other.” £ .fl see," I said, “the other, on which yon had written the name of Major Bewsher.” ~ “No,” said Lady Pamela quietly, “on which I had also written the name of Lieutenant Carstairs.”

Tit for Tat

“You’ll have to tend tor another doctor,” said the one who had been I called, after a glance at the patient. “Ah I so in as that?” gasped the sufferer. _ - . “I don’t know just how 111 you are,” replied the man of nafiehe, “hot T know you’re the lawyer who crae*. examined me when I appeared as an expert witness. My conscience won’t tot me UR you, and HI be hanged if f wut to cure yqM .

Christening the Baby.

A Country clergyman relates the following incident as being absolutely founded on fact: Having arrived (says he) at that point in the baptismal service where the infant’s name is conferred, I said: "Name the child.” . "Original Story,” said the spoa-sor-aurse. ~ "What do you say?” I asked In surprise. "Original Story,” she repeated In clear, deliberate tones. "It’s a very odd name, isn’t ft? Are you sure that you want him called by the name , of Original Story?” I queried. "Original Story that’s right,” she declared. - “Is It a family name?” I persisted. "Named after his uncle, sir,” explained the woman in charge, getting red In the face. And so as Original Story I christened that unoffending little fellow. It was some weeks after this event that I made the acquaintance of the said uncle —a farm laborer In another village whose name was Reginald Story. , v My child bad been taught to be careful about spilling water on the floor. One day she was taken to see the Mississippi river, which flowed by me city where she lived. Upon reaching the bank of the river where it could be seen in all its wide expanse, she exclaimed: "Oh, who spilled all that water?” “I suppose you’re one of those .diots that touch wet paint to see if it’s dry?” “No, I’m not I touch it to see If it’s wet.” "What would you do if you had a lot of money ? ’ - “I s’pose I’d begin to worry about how I’d get along If I hadn’t” “The Jaggsons are the most enthusiastic suburbanites I ever came across. They are always experimenting, but arfe not very practical. Are they doing anything with their place this summer?” “Yes, I believe they are trying to raise everything on it but the mortage.” I

JOY OF LONELINESS.

Hunter—What I like is to get sway off in the pathless wood a, where I am sure there la no other ht man being. Gunter—You enjoy the vaet solitudes ■ of nature? r Hunter—No. But I like to feel certain that I am not going to be mistaken for a deer by some amateur marksman. Banks—The women of my town have formed a secret society. Rivers—A secret society? Surely, that’s a misnomer ; women don’t-know how to keep secrets. Banks —But they know how to tell them, and that’s why they formed the society. “The ancient Romans had a catapult that could hurl rock more than a mile.” “Now I understand it.” “What?” “My landlord told me this bouse was a stone’s throw from the depot. He must have had it on his hands since the time of the Caesars.” Abou Ben Adbem had discovered that his name led all the rest. “Well," he said, “alphabetically, that’s where it belongs.” • Dropping a tear of sympathy for poor Xenophon, whose name was near the foot of the list, he kept right on loving his fellow men. Visitor (looking at field, covered with molehills)—What are all those mounds. Shropshire native —Oompty too imps. Visitor —But what are umpty tumps Native—Toomps what t’ oompty makes. Visitor —But what is the umpty? Native —What makes the toomps, you fool! —Punch. ? ... "Yes, my ciass is pretty well informed about the approaching comet,” said the first teacher. "Gracious,” exclaimed the second teacher in surprise, "how in the world did you ever get the children 1 interested in it?” "Why, 1 told them there was a chance of its coming and burning the school house down.” ■ ——j “John —John,” whispered Mrs. Gidgeley. nudging her husband. “What is it?” h© sleepily asked, “There’s a the house.” 1 get up and run the risk of being “No; hut if you find in the morning that somebody has gone through your pockets, don t blajne me.”