Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 270, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 November 1912 — Page 3

PREPARES TO MOVE

[Then Young Author Makes the Discovery That She is Famous.

By MOLLY McMASTER.

■Prudence gazed wistfully about the small studio that had been her haven of dreams for the last two years. She had taken if pn the strength of having sold a poem to one of the magazines, and her heart had been filled with hope and the foundation of success. A tear trickled through her lashes and splashed down onto the keys of her typewriter. Spasmodic breaths began to tear at. the girl's slight frame, and her head went forward on her arms, and Prudence burst Into an uncontrollable passion of weeping. Farewell to her hopes, farewell to the dear, delightful studio were embodied in hen grief; and the horrible feeling of failure crowded it all. One by one her manuscripts had been returned to her. They were far too poetic, too much a part of the dream world for the average reader to appreciate. “Your characters are TOereal, not human,” one editor had written. "Put them under the sprinkling can of human emotions and let them get spattered with mud. You will write a story then.”

“But I do not see the mud,” Prudence had bemoaned within herself, “nor did my father write about mud spattered characters —yei he was successful,' 1 she had argued in imagination with that editor. “But your father was a man, and a man’s life touches earth more frequently than does a woman’s. Your poet father’s pen was human.” So Prudence had struggled on with her ethereal heroes and heroines. The meager amount left her by her successful but over-generous father had dwindled down. Prudence’s slim pocketbook and shabby clothes testified to an ardent need of money. “I dare not attempt to keep my studio for 'another year,” she told herself, “the editors may be just as cruel as they have been.” She smiled through her tears. “And I certainly will not marry Bobby, because he* calls me a ‘pipe dreamer.’ ” Even so, Prudence did not decide to give up / her studio without a struggle. | “Still,” she jiighed, “there is no use my having a studio if I am going into an office, and if I will be wearing stiff collars and shirtwaists.” Prudence cast 1 a regretful glance at her shabby, artistic brown frock, and at the same time smoothed back a touseled head of brown curls. “Yes, I will have to give it up. Studios would not be respectable if connected with a girl in shirtwaists and tight skirts. I will look about for a hall room.” And with the bravery that had kept her courage up through untold misery Prudence made arrangements to move the following Monday. Had Prudence known the meaning of the word irony she would have considered the fact that a substantial check came to her from one of her stories on the Saturday before her departure as a bit of irony. But, because to Prudence, irony, hypocrisy and slander held no part in the big scheme of existence she only rejoiced in her good fortune and forthwith spent a portion of the’ money on flowers, "I want my studio to be beautiful — on the last day.” She choked back her tears while she arranged a great cluster of pink roses in her favorite rose jar. During Sunday Prudence was half hysterical and half brave. She had not realized how terrible the parting with the dream of life was to be until she felt the evening hours of her last day drawing in. She sank into the big cozy chair beside the red lamp and tried to feel that on the morrow Bhe would be an office girl. A friend of her father’s had secured Prudence a position as first reader on a magazine. “And tomorrow evening I will go home to my hor?ld little hall room with tired eyes from having read many bad manuscripts,” Prudence smiled ruefully and shadows darkened her eyes. The brass knocker on the door told her that a guest waß without “I wanted to be alone,” she commented, as she went to the door. The man who had knocked crept straight into the heart of Prudence. He was genial and happy and franklooking. “Are you Miss Prudence Lange?” he asked. “Yes,” said Pruderies, and opened the door still wider. “Will you come 1n?” “Thank you.” James Henry said, and went within. Prudence closed the door, and somehow the atmosphere was suddenly charged with electricity. She found her voice almost refusing to echo her mental question. “I have good news for you,” James Henry told her when they were both seated. He began without preamble. "Do you—but of course you do, remember sending a play called ’Stolen Idols' to Emery Hill?” “Two long years ago,” Prudence amiled wistfully. “I had no acknowledgment even/' tire added. “During our South African tour,” Henry James went on, as if be expected Prudence to know that Emery Hill had taken his entire company to South Africa, “I discovered ydur play among Mr. Hill's mail. I am Mr.

Hill’s business manager, and when 1 had read your play I found something worth while in it” Prudence managed to smile through the excitement that was now flaming in her cheeks and sparkling in her eyes, * “I am rather good at making over other writers’ plots,” he continued without conceit, “and 1 took your play and ran your characters through the mud —just sufficient to make them earthly,” James Henry laughed, and Prudence joined him. **An editor once told me that my characters needed the sprinkling cart run over them,” she told him, “You are evidently the driver.” “A mighty good one at that,” laughed James Henry. “So don’t faint —or anything—when I tell you that I have a sum that runs over the ten-thousand mark for you. I put your play on, and it has been running to crowded houses through South Africa. We have brought it home to try in. New York. Do you mind?" “Mind!” Prudence did not faint, but she jumped up and took James Henry by both hands. “If I knew you better,” she cried, "I would dance you about the room. As it is I can only thank you from my heart.” James Henry laughed, because there was something in the voice of Prudence that warned him that tears were scarcely hidden, and he knew that if Bhe cried he would not remember that he had known her a scant five minutes. As it was, the soft pressure of her fingers was tingling up his arm. "We, of course, are collaborators?” Prudence stated, rather than questioned. _ “ ' „r. : '

“As a manager I can not have my name flaming on all the billboards," said James Henry. “But since a collaborator is what you require—I want the other half. We will turn out some plays belween us that will travel through all the stock companies in the country after they have had record runs on Broadway.” “Then I will cancel my order for the moving vans,” Prudence laughed and caressed the studio with her eyes. “I should have told you before,” James Henry put In contritely, and for the first time noticed the shabblness of her brown frock. “No. no!” she cried swiftly, “your coming sp unexpectedly has been wonderful —” she broke off suddenly, and James Henry gloried In the blushes that swept across the girl’s cheeks. * “Quite too wonderful,” he commented inwardly. (Copyright, 1912, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)

Funds to Save the Herons.

Following the publication of an account of a disaster which has recently befallen a great colony of herons which occupied a small island of about three acres in the marsh near Charleston, S, C., a public-spirited woman has contributed SIOO toward, the purchase of the Island.

On the island from one thousand to three thousand herons of five different kinds —Including the snowy egret, the rarest and most beautiful of all the heron tribe —had their homes and reared their young. A brief time ago the owner of the Inland, an Atlanta man, practically wiped out the heronry by having the bushes which covered the place cut away and tbe Island planted In oats. Today two or three hundred herons still breed In the few bushes that remain on the island, while it Is believed that the greater numberiof the birds have established themselves on another island near by.

It All Depended.

Fair Elizabeth tripped blithely into the country poßtofflce. “Now, I want to know,” she demanded, with a tell-tale blush, as she handed the clerk a pink communication addressed to her lover, “how long it will be before I get an answer to this letter?” “That depends,” he answered. “If he’s In jail they will let him write once a week or, maybe, Once a month only. If he’s dead broke he’ll have to wait til he can earn the price of a stamp, and I have no data upon which to base an opinion of his earning capacities. If he’s ill In bed he may not care ’ to dictate his heart’s sentiments to a cold, disinterested third party; and if it’s smallpox they won’t let him write at all; dittd If he’s dead. Then, again, if he’s got a new girl—” 'At which moment he realized that the fair Elizabeth had flown.

Our Furnace Symposium.

Ranking the fire is a very simple process. It is easier to bank anything else we know of. We have been able to bank anything excepting a lire for several years. Place the ashes In the flour sifter and thus sprinkle them carefully over the coalß. Three teacupfuls for a small furnace, the kind that goes out every five minutes, and five teacupfuls for one of the battleship variety. Close all of the drafts, or leave all of them open, as you choose, turn out the gas in the basement, lodk the kitchen door, take your dose of Family Tea, wind the dock, pnt out the cat and go to bed. If these directions are followed faithfully you will In the morning find one of two conditions: The fire will be going or it will be ouL —Boston Globe.

Marriage Today.

• “But I can't afford to buy you a duke.” - „ “Now, father, the proposition drill finance Itself. Cards dor an International wedding fancy prices, and then there’s the moving-picture rights.”

UP WIIERE NATURE DWELLS

MAKING A TRAIL UP OLD BALDY

IT WOULD be superfluous to say we slept that night. Wouldn’t anybody feel like sleeping after a good, manly walk of twelve or —fifteen mattes up a hill that well deserves the. name, mountain? We had started about mid-afternoon to scale the heights preparatory to our annual “two weeks off.” ’Twas dark when we reached our chosen spot in the San Antonio canyon, and it was 9 o’clock before we hid completed all arrangements for our “good nights,” writes Alfred A. Berger in the Los Angeles Times. % By the way, did you ever sleep out under the trees with God’s vast blue canopy for your roof, and the myriads of stars twinkling and blinking at you through” the leaves, for your watch Rights? Did you ever experience a flight in the forest with sweet-scented pines perfuming thtf air, and with a gushing, gurgling, laughing brook to sing you away to dreamland? It is wonderful beyond mere description. All night long we dreamed sweet dreamß of mountains and forests and things that are grand. We pictured in our sleep the natural beauties which surrounded us. But when morning came with its darting beams of sunlight casting mysterious shadows among the towering trees, disclosing nature in that cool, dewy freshness, we took our first look upon our camping ground. The rivulet was more beautiful, even, than we had pictured it in our slumbers. It rushed and bubbled over its rocky bed, winding and twisting down the mountainside, eager to do its share toward making the mighty ocean. Just above our camp was a charming cataract, noisy and picturesque. Still further above was a rustic foot bridge, and in the background was the canyon wall with its growth of timber and underbrush, the whole blending together to make a sylvan picture that would enthuse the most unemotional. The Big Event. AIT the days and nights of our sojourn were not greatly unlike the first. We all felt happy up there in that altitude, above “the petty rounds of irritating concerns and duties.” And we learned new lessons of brotherly love from the birds and the gray squirrels that frolicked in the treetops. But the one big event of our expedition was a trip to “Old Baldy”—that ancient monument of the stfnny southwest, and loftiest peak of the San Gabriel, range. Eleven and a half thousand feet above the sea he rears his barren head, high above the line of vegetation, rendering himself richly deserving of the descriptive name he bdars. Taking provisions and blankets for a night in the wilderness, we loaded them onto a pack mule. We also appropriated a pair of donkeys—burros is the California pronunciation—to “spell” us in our unusual climb. Thus fitted out, the procession started early in the mbrning, carrying two canteens of water and sufficient weapons to protect us from such beasts . as crossed out path. Parenthetically, I would state that the weapons we used most, however, were our walking sticks, and the beasts we used them on most were the poor beasts of burden. Speaking of burros—they were all right to climb, so long as the trail was not too steep. But when it Was steep, then—did we ride? We did well to get our little, long-eared brothers along even when we walked. ' At the limit of the timber we stopped » to rest—and incidentally .to humor our “inner man” with a few munches of bread and beans—and water. Ah, did beans ever , touch the spot so exactly? Did bread ever satisfy so completely ? Was watbr ever sweeter? We had left the stream far behind now, and the canteens held our only hope of preservation until we reached the snow line. For Old Baldy is one of those peaks with eternal snow. However, that is only in the canyons facing the north. »The southern slopes are bare excepting in winter. While our “toner man” was enjoy-

Ing his beans we ourselves were greedily devouring the scenery. From our resting place we commanded a ■view of th«- entire valley below ns. extending from mountain to ocean—about fifty miles long and some thirty miles wide. There before our eyes—precisely as a map—lay the towns and cities hold the bulk of the valley’s population. There In the far comer was Redlands, with San Bernardino nestling in the lap of its parent range. Newport marked the western line of our map. In the midst were Riverside, Colton, 1 Pomona, Corona, and the several other enterprising towns —a wonderful display and a comprehensive lesson in local geography, ail from the single viewpoint. Here, too, it was to this place that we decided to return for our night’s camp. So we left our donkeys tied to trees at the edge of the forest, and started but with renewed energy to climb and climb and climb. Whew! Let’s have a draw at that canteen! It was beginning to seem like climbing now, and —whew! the air wasn’t quite as numerous as it had been down below. There, that taste of water helped some, even though we couldn’t have more than a swallow — only a gallon and a half of water to last Beven persons twenty-four hours, but then, when we struck snow, we wouldn’t have tP drink water. « „ Climbed Bome More. "And another locust came and took another grain of corn” —and we climbed, and climbed and climbed. Then we climbed some more. The “whews" came thick and fast now, and it certainly seemed like a “long time between drinks,” as the good old southern governors once complained. Then, too, I suspect the altitude was beginning to affect our more sensible tostincts, for at the very first sight of snow every last one of us made a dive for the nearest drift, regardless of parched tongues and overheated bodies, and snow pudding was the popular diet for several minutes. After a while we determined to make another dash for the top, and each taking on sufficient cargo of snowballs to last until we should reach the next drift we tugged onward. (Unlike Peary's noble crew, we had no gumdrops to stimulate our activities.) After walking fori some time, we saw another party of bold adventurers far ahead, standing in a group, taking off their Bats and saluting as though they thought they were discovering something. ’Twas Baldy! But, humph, it’s two to one that that peak knew where it was long before they reached it The numerous cards, names and handkerchief flags which we later found lodging there, testified to not less than a couple of hundred previous “discoverers.” But ah! the magnificence of the outlook! There we were, right at the top of the world —as it seemed —and every direction in which we turned unfurled a new panorama. Looking northward, we could see the snow-i mantled incline dropping down to the sandy and—at that season of the year —well-nigh waterless bed of the Mojave river. Off to the east were the thickly-tim-bered mountains of the San Bernardino range, the great Arrowhead standing out conspicuously in the foreground. Then lifting our gaze, wd plainly discerned the veteran peaks of San Bernardino and Grayback. their snow-crowned summits reflecting in hues of delicate pink the rays of the evening sun.

To the south, Mt San Jacintcfs ■lofty bluffs marked the setting of Helen Hunt Jackson’s great Indian, love story. While between our elevated station and that promontory gracefully reclined tbe picturesque valley that harbored our homes spotted In varying shades of green by Its villages, orange groves and ranches. Then to the westward we could see the rotting foothills extending down to old ocean. And there was the Pacific In all hdr mighty grandeur Our descent was comparatively rapid, and it was not long before we were at our rendezvous la the “tall timbers.”

IS DESTINED TO STICK

SCION OF THE HOUSE OF JONES HAB HI3 SOBRIQUET. Unfortunate Pet Name Beatowed by Fond Father Is Never Likely to Be Forgotten in the Years to Come. Unto a young couple whom well call the Joneses a son was born. Naturally it was an event that minimized the importance of everything else that had ever happened—especially in the opinion of the young mother’s folks, who closed up their houses and took up temporary residence with the Joneses so’s to be near the new-born, where they could make frequent comment on the rare sagacity he displayed. After the excitement following the discovery that he had limbs and eyes like a reg’lar baby had subsided a trifle the family connections all tried to get together on a name. Now Jones, the father of the prodigy, insisted that he wanted some plain name that could be boiled down Into a nickname of the old-fashioned, blown-in-the-bottle sort, such as Jack or Jim. His wife, however, was strong for a name such as Ronald or Marinaduke. She said if he got any ordinary name at all it would have to be one of those double names that are so popular In families where they raise children that grow up and lead cotillions. She would have called the child James Edward, for example, and uSe the full name whenever she addressed him. But Jones just naturally wouldn’t stand for it.

“Wouldn’t it sound ridiculous, now,” he pointed out, “to go out on the front porch to call the boy in from his play and say, 'Junes Edward, come In here?’ Call hrea Jim or Ed if you want to, but none o’ that double name truck. I know one man whose friends call him by two names and he always looks to me like the remnant of a discarded hypothesis.” Then the mother’s parents had a lot of fool names that they would call the helpless babe. Most of them were names that can only he used when the last is “St Clair,” like the villain in a show. Jones, being unable to carry out his own wishes in the selection of a suitable nomination, was content to postpone the christening in the hope that after a time some name might turn up on which all the relatives could agree. But the delay allowed an awful thing to happen. The young one had a funny way of screwing up its face and throwing its arms when It cried that Jones said made him think Of a bug. So he playfully got to calling his offspring by the nickname of “Bug.” The nurse took it up. Neighbors got hold of the sobriquet and they call him “Bug.” Everybody calls him “Bug.’L By the time the family agreed on a regular name for "him, the “Bug” nickname was so irrevocably established that there will be no forgetting it That child is destined to go through life with everybody addressing him as “Bug,” regardless of what may be his title in the family Bible. Some day a tall, smooth-faced man in a frock coat may arise in convention hall, mop his brow, and say: “Gentlemen, I wish to place # in nomination the name of that * sterling young patriot, Mr. Bug Jones!” The deed has been done. That “Bug” is destined to cling. Horse’s Part In War. /

“Lea grands maneuvers de pouest,” as the French maneuvers are officially termed, are unique in their way because for the first time aeroplanes are to be tried on an organized system, says the Paris correspondent of the London Telegraph. No longer will the commanders in chief be obliged to rely on the report* of the cavalry for their information on thq,enemy’s movements. t An aeroplane can do the work of a cavalry patrol in a twentieth of the time and in a far more comprehensive manner; and one thing is certain, this new development of a military science will have the effect of speeding up war and will give birth to a new school of generals, men of lightning decision, who can decide with intense rapidity what the next move on the great chessboard of war shall be. The millennium of peace seems almost to have arrived for the horse. He has practically disappeared from the scene on which he has played such a glorious role in the past. He drags nothing and he Is almost useless for scouting. The motor trolley puffs along the road, relieving him once and for all from the sore backs of his progenitors, and the aeroplane soaring overhead leaves him hopelessly In the rear if he endeavors to ascertain the movements of the enemy

Change of Front.

That the framework of the faces of Europeans has changed'greatly in the last three centuries is the contention of Dr. P. A. Woods of Harvard university. The eyes are now closer together, the upper part of the nose more slender, and the cheek bones less prominent Altogether, the upper part of the face was closer to the Mongolian structure three ‘centuries ago. The mouth and lower part of the face, on the contrary, appear to hare changed very little. In the early part of the portraits of English. French and German nobility it was rare to find a face of the modem type. The tmc* of the v artstocrat of those day* was more like the peasant of today. <s <—*——

SEARCH CELLARS OF HOUSE

Precaution That la Never Neglected! Before Meeting of the British Parliament. \ It is 807 years since the Brith&l houses of parliament were searched! and the barrels of gunpowder under the custody of Guy Fiawkes discovered* a few hours before the opening of that session. That discovery was not due. to any special acumen on the part of 1 the author! tleftsince it followed upon information sent them by letter; hut there has certainly been no lack of vigilance since then, seeing that on nooccasion for three centuries has Parliament been opened until its cellars* had been searched. The duty of examining the vault* and secret passages is assigned to the* lord chamberlain of the court, butt generally It is the vlce-chamberlainr who conducts the search. His assistants are the deputy sergeant-atrarms-of the house of commons, the clerk of the board of works and an inspector of police. There is a lot of ceremony pertaining to the proceeding. The four officers mentioned are preceded by four yeomen of the guard in. uniform and fully armed. Through one* corridor after another they tramp,, peering into every dark corner until they finally reach the conclusion that no gunpowder has been stored in the and that, therefore, it Is quite safe for parliament to meet. When, during the reign of James L, the earliest searches were ordered, tbe> guardsmen carried lanterns through, the dark passages, and now, although, the corridors and underground passages are thoroughly lighted by electricity, the good old custom !• still respected by the guardsmen, who yet carry lanterns in their hands. In the days of the Stuarts it was the custom; when the inspection had been finished, for the lord chamberlain to dispatch a message to the king by & mounted soldier to the effect th%t it would be entirely safe for attend the opening session of parliament Nowadays the mounted soldier is no longer seen riding post haste to the king; but the vice-cham-berlain still sends the traditional message to bis majesty by private wire* and the king is assured that there areno explosives in the cellars and that: he will not be exposed to unusual, risks if he chooses to meet his lords< and commons. The king may not have the remotest notion of opening' parliament, but the message is sent just the same, and it is duly received* and acknowledged.—Harper's Weekly.

In Debt to the Ants.

If the ants had not got into the sugar there would have been no vacation for mother in a Pratt street family. Father was going away for a while and mother had made up her mind to stay at home with the young son and just rest and have a good time In her own yard. But on the day of father’s departure mother was doing some baking and she went to the sugar crock for some sugar. When shd removed the lid she found the sugar alive with tiny ants. She took the crock to the back porch, spread a newspaper out on a table and emptied the sugar on the paper. Just then her gaze fell on a railroad advertisement of excursion rates. She found that a special train would run from Indianapolis that night and that the fare was low. The advertisement told about tbe fine bathing beach, the hotels, the fishing and all of the other attractions. When father came to dinner that day there was a large bouquet of flowers at bis plate. His Chair was cushioned and a nice, fat, soft pillow was there also for .his comfort. He knew something was about to happen, but he didn’t know what nor how much it was going to cost. “What is It now?” he asked. “Looks like there’s something on your mind.” Mother handed him the paper. A» soon as dinner was over father wrote' a check, and mother and son packed their trunk. —Indianapolis News.

How to Estimate Number in a Review.

Did you ever try to estimate the number in a crowd and then find out later that you had missed your guess. by hundreds? Here is a simple system with regard to the number of troops on the march: The strength of a body Sf troops may be estimated from the length of time it takes to pass a given point. Assuming that infantry in column of lours occupies half a yard per man. cavalry one yard per trooper, and artillery is in single column of guns and caissons, a given point would be passed in one minute by about 175 infantry, 110 cavalry at a walk, 200 cavalry at a trot, and five guns or caissons. Allowing for spacing between companies, battalions, and regiments, all of which is according to mathematical rule, it takes a regiment of 1,000 men divided into battalions Just ten minutes to pass, or at the rate of 6,000 an hour. And this supposes no breaks in the line. These rules, it must be remembered, are for trained soldiers used to a long step and to keeping up without straggling. No civilians ever have kept up this pace.

Persuaded.

“That man’s motto is ‘After me ths deluge!’" said the fervent speaker. “in that case,” replied Farmer Corntowel, "Tm goto’ to vote fur Tm. We never did have enough rain to satis. m«.T

“Ain't It Awfui?"

Mack— Everything is going up. Jack— Tee. even the price of e» parlance has advanced. 1