Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 136, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 June 1913 — Page 3

HIS REAL DAUGHTER

How a Father Discovered the True Meaning of the Word “Daughter.”

By LAURA A. KIRKMAN.

Marjorie told her chum the good news even before she told her aunt. "See!" she cried, excitedly, waving the letter. “My father has written—he’s coming to see me!" Helen’s face clouded. “He’s coming to take you away!’’ she suspected. “I guess so. He says he has a ."proposition to lay before me.” At the torrent of unhappiness that flowed from lips, Marjorie’s eyes opened wide. , < “Don’t you want me to have a daddy, too?’’ she reproached. “You ought to want me to go away with him —and be happy. Oh, I’ll be like you with your father!” 5 Helen’s jolly, big-hearted father had always been a source of envy to Marjorie. On a holiday, he would stroll across the lawn to where Helen was playing tennis and stand and watch her as ff he asked no greater pleasure of life; pride was written on his face when he drove home nightly .from the depot beside his pretty daughter. “I have always loved my father,” Marjorie confided suddenly. “I loved him even when mother was alive and used to talk against him. I have always wished he would love me and try to find me. I don’t care if he is married again and has another daughter; I’m his daughter, too—his first daughter’” Her voice rang on the last words, and she started through the hedge towards her aunt’s house. “Wait!” cried Helen, holding her 'back. “Are you going to forget all about me, Margie? Aren’t you going to care that I’ll be lonely here without you? Won’t you even visit me ■sometimes?” : ”

“I think Til wear my lavender dress,” answered Marjorie. “He comes on the 4:30 train —Oh, yes, of course, 'Helen, I’ll visit you sometimes!”

She broke away and fley up the steps of her veranda. Passing her aunt in the hall, She tossed her the beloved letter, and ran up to her room.

“And I’ll wear my gold beads, too,” she planned flutteringly, “and lavender ribbons in my hair!” At half-past four, she was at the gate all ready to welcome her father. Behind the locked door of her room stood a packed trunk. “Oh!” she breathed excitedly, as a covered carriage drew near.

The man that alighted from it was older and more iron-haired than the man her memory pictured. “Father!” she cried gladly, running forward.

He kissed her, but not as she expected him to; somehow his manner chilled her, made her feel ill at east. It was a relief when Aunt Jennie came forward to shake hands with him.

“My child, you must take me for a little walk,” were his first words to her. “I have much to say to you.' Have you a garden to stroll in?” She strove for ease in her answer. could go into the orchard back of the house —” As they started for the orchard, she fought again for self-possession and naturalness. “That’s where my chum lives/’ she Informed him, waving her hand toward Helen’s house. “See, there she is now—on the tennis court! Why, her horse is hitched up already—ahd she doesn’t have to go to the depot until 5:30.” Swiftly her father pulled out hid watch. “Five-thirty,” he repeated. “That’s ,my train back. We have barely sn hour for our talk, my dear, so we best go straight to my proposition. How would you like to go to college this fall?"

She did not answer. She could not; ■something had come up into her. throat that threatened to strangle her. “Would you like that?” repeated her father in a voice that bespoke his certainty of her liking it. “You shall have all your expenses paid, an ample allowance, and the privilege of choosing the college.”

Marjorie swallowed hard, and winked very fast. At last her voice came. “No, thank yob—father?’ ( He stood still in the path. He stared at her, first incredulously, then a little angrily.

"Don’t you want to accept it from mn?” he asked. She searched wildly for an excuse. “Oh, no! It’s not that! It’s just —that I couldn't bear to leave Aunt Jeanie!’’ The absurdity of this reason almost turned the emotion raised by disappointment into wild, hysterical laughter; what young girl would from choice remain with a spartan-minded, self-sufficient person like Aunt Jennie?

“I couldn’t bear to leave her,” she reaffirmed nervously. “She’d be so .lonely without me! I couldn’t imaIglne myself away from her!” She had 'succeeded in convincing !hlm. “Very well,” he said, starting again Ito walk. “Then you must name some iother thing that. I can do for you. i Perhaps you and your aunt would like to take s trip somewhere? You must : let me do something for you. my -'dear, for I feel that I would like to? She could think of nothing—nothing but the longing hidden deep in [her heart. She walked on beside him |ln dumb misery. -- - At last, under pressure of his ques|tloaing glances, she framed a wish.

It was a wish her aunt had expressed a week ago: ’ ’’ “If you could only rent the Berkley. place—” “The Berkley place?" he caught up quickly. “Tell me about it, ifly dear!” She described the rambling, old homestead with such enthusiasm as she could feign. “And it has a stable,” she ended, “and a garden, and a fountain in the front yard.” Her father drew out a notebook and scribbled hastily. / “You shall have horses in the stable,” he promised, “and plenty of flowers in the garden, and a tennis court like your little chum’s, If you wish—” She interrupted him sharply! “I don’t want a tennis court!” She could not have explained why she said this; she knew only that she on her tennis court could never be like Helen on beys —for some reason. But her father demanded no explanation; he was once more writing in the note book. ? “You said the agent’s address was River road?” he asked. “Let me see,” he pulled out his watch, “I have just twenty minutes in which to she him and catch my train.” She was glad when they neared the house and the strain of the call was at an end. Yet she detained him a moment at the gate; she could not bear to let Him go before finding out why he had no love to give her. Questions about his other daughter—the daughter who had grown up beside him—sprang to her lips and forced themselves out: “Tell me about my—sister! I suppose she wouldn’t go to college for anything?”

-'A look of pain crossed her father’s face.

“On the contrary, she wouldn’t stay at home for anything,” he said a little bitterly.

Marjorie could have murdered her half sister-at that moment. She sawthe whole situation —saw the father’s pain at the coolness of the child he had watched grow up—saw why he’ had no love to give the first daughter.

And she no longer asked for his love; she knew at last that she had ho right to ,it —that she was not his real daughter. “Good bye!” she said, more brightly than she had been able to speak throughout .the entire hour. “And thank you ever and ever and ever so much!”

Even with resignation in her heart, she watched him disappear down the street." “,I shall be happy again, now,” she told herself. “For of course there’s no reason in the world for me to be disappointed—there never was a reason. As the politicians say, “it isn’t an issue!* ”

Cheerfully she went up to her room. She sat down on her trunk. With locked hands she stared clear-eyed out of the window. “I wonder if I look—actressy—ln this lavender dress?” was the thought that presented itself most persistently to her mind. She got up and walked to the mirror and stood looking long at her reflection.

“I think these gold beads make pie 100k —garish,” said her lips as though speaking independently of her will. Through the open window sEe saw Helen and her father drive up to their door. She watched the man take his arm from his daughter's shoulders as one watches the actress of a beautiful play. Then suddenly her calmness went; she sprang alert and stool listening. Her heart almost suffocated her. “Marjorie!” came Up the stairs in her father’s voice. He found her on the floor beside the trunk. He would have flown for doctor—water—stimulants, but, seeing him, she sat up; she needed no other stimulant than his arms.

“My child!” he said tenderly, “why didn't you tell me that you love me?” She clung to him. “I should never have known it If your little chum had not run up to me at the depot and asked me to let you visit her sometimes. Marjorie, why did you let me think that you wouldn’t leave your aunt?” She clung to him. "I thought ‘daughter’ meant a child who found companionship only in young people of her own age,” he defined. “Now I know the real meaning of the word.” She clung to him. % (Copyright, 1918, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)

“Hailstorm Beit” In England.

An ecentriclty of English weather of especial interest to farmers has been discovered by the board of agriculture. The hail period begins in April and continues till August; but it only has the dignity of a season, over certain narrow and distinct parts of England. Again and again the hailstorms have cut a straight path, with well-defined' edges, through the crops In Huntingdonshire' and Bedfordshire, and less thoroughly in Lincoln, Norfolk and Cambridgeshire, while other counties have been exempt. One theory of this peculiarity is that the hailstorms coming from the east do not fall until they touch the first bit of rising ground, and this rising ground quite empties them. It is a general belief that years which begin eccentrically in regard to weather are apt to continue eccentric, and the i-ecent hall, earlier than usual in the season, suggests that its recurrence In the summer is also more than usually likely.—-London Globe.

Remedy.

Mr. Growler—There is entirely too much hot air in this house. Mrs. Growler—Then, why don’t yeu quit talking?

DESERT LURE FATAL

Chicago Woman Ventures Too Far Into Sahara.

Taken Far on Litter —English Missionaries Minister to Dying American When the French Deny Her Needful Aid. Chicago.—A dramatic account of the death of May Allport, the Chicago pianiste, in a lonely sun-baked town on the edge of the Sahara desert, is told in mails received by her friends in Chicago. Brief mention was made of Miss Allport’s death In the Chicago newspapers of April 20. She had expired in Sfax, Tunisia, on April 18, and had been buried the following day. Miss Allport left Chicago some years ago to travel in Italy. She spent a large part of her time at the little town of Taormina, Under the shadow of Mount Aetna and close to the exquisite classical remains which draw many strangers to Sicily.«ln March of the present year Miss Allport went alone across the Mediterranean from Palermo to Africa.

From Tunis she went along the coast to Susa, thence inland to Kairawan, Gafsa, and Tozeur (Tozer); thence to Sfax on the gulf of Gabes, and thence she ventured, in company with a casually met Englishwoman — too far into the desert —to Gabes at the lower end of the gulf, called by the ancients Syrtis Minor.

Here, among the Arabs and Italian sailors and merchants, she was taken too sick to return unaided, and here her companion left her. Fortunately an English' doctor—his name is Thomas G. Churcher—journeying with his wife through Gabes from Sfax to the oasis of Medenine, heard of,the American woman sick at the little flench Hotel des Colonies and came to her rescue.

Recognizing the serious character of her illness, he called in the post surgeon as a consultant and endeavored to secure her admission to the French army hospital. Failing in his effort, rather than desert a woman in distress, he secured a covered automobile, fitted it with a comfortable mattress, and carried her back with him to his own home in Sfax —a distance of nearly 100 miles. On reaching the home of this Englishman—he and his wife are medical missionaries—she seemed brighter for the change and full of gratitude, but the long journey over the desert proved too much for her, and she died while her missionary friends prayed by her bedside. She was buried in Sfax, in the French cemetery, until such a time as the French colonial department will issue a permit for the removal of her body to her own country. Since 1875 Miss Allport’s figure and Influence were well known in the Chicago musical world. She was one of

BOOMS AFTER FLOOD

Jayton, 0., Is on Road to Pros* perity Again.

Everybody In One Davastated Town Working, and Wages Are Higher Than They Were Ever Known to Be Before.

Dayton, O. —Dayton is taking care of herself again. Only a few soldiers are left doing police duty. Military law is theoretically in force, and Adjt. Gen. George H. Wood is still here. The curfew has become a technicality, and citizens may go abroad till 11 o’clock each night The saloons are open through the day. Major Rhoades of the United States army lias gone, leaving the work of sanitation and cleaning in the hands of the city authorities. Relief processes have come to a standstill, except for the work of the Red Cross, under Dr. Edward T. Devine of New York.

The factories started running in an incredibly short time after the flood. Their accumulation of orders insures rush work and overtime all summer. With everybody working, wages higher than ever known, and with 90000 persons* having lost part Or all of their household goods and clothing, there could be no question about business. Dayton is already a boom town, and must continue to be the busiest city in the United States for many months to come. Every merchant who has been able to get new stock has been doing a volume of business from 40 to 60 per cent .greater than at the corresponding time last year—and this with rough board counters, emergency fixtures, and demoralized sales forces. Treasury department officials sent here to restore financial operations told disheartened merchants from the first that they would turn their stock more times in the next six months than they ordinarily did in five years. The first month’s sales have convinced most of them that this was a correct prediction.

Every merchant of good reputation has received astonishing favors from houses from which he buys. Many have canceled old accounts; nearly all have extended their credit Citizens have been advised not to avail themselves of the bankruptcy law, and none so far have done so. Thousands of carpenters, plasterers and painters are at work. There is still much mud and debris in the streets, though nearly 20,000 wagonloads have been hauled away. Most

SULTAN OF TURKEY AND HIS SON AND HEIR

Turkey has been in the lime light for so long a time that interest attaches to these new and hitherto unpublished photographs of Mohammed V. and his son and heir, Crown Prince Yussel Issan Effendi, in his official army uniform.

the founders of the Amateur Musical club, and until 1911 was one of the most popular contributors to its programs.

For many years she was also the moving spirit in the musical programs of the Fortnightly and the Little Boom. Her musical education was commenced under the best European masters, and in 1871 she enjoyed the privilege of listening to Franz Liszt at his own home in Weimar.

LOSES FOOT TO SAVE BABY

Tot Snatched From Danger by Its Mother While Would-Be Rescuer Is Run Down.

Minneapolis.—A baby was snatched from under the wheels of a Milwaukee passenger train, and as a result of the incident W. J. Morrison, a brakeman, is in a hospital seriously injured.

Morrison’s right foot was cut off when he tried to life of Elsie Harvey, three-years-old daughter of Mrs. C. E. Harvey of Chicago. The baby had crept in front of the train east bound, which was leaving the station. Morrison leaped in front of the moving engine, but the mother had grasped the baby before he could reach her. He tried to stop, slipped and fell directly under the pilot.

of the boards, broken furniture and the like was taken to the public dumps and burned. At McKinley park, devastated by the flood, there was a huge bonfire covering two city blocks, with fire fighting apparatus surrounding it. It is contended by a large element that the work of cleaning has been hampered by the opening of the saloons, which opened ten days ago. Four thousand men had been employed on the cleaning work, many imported from Chicago and other citips. Hundreds of them became demoralized through drinking and left the city.

Immediate attention is to be given the broken levees, in which only the bad breaks have been stopped. The government is giving attention to the improvement of the great Miami from source to mouth. War department engineers have surveyed the district Revised estimates of the financial loss very almost as widely as they did at first A survey by a company of bankers and real estate men resulted in a total of 1128,000,000, including $50,000,000 for depreciation of real estate. All the estimates probably are too high. The chamber of commerce’s estimate of mercantile losses is $12,000,000. Not more than one-third of the churches and schools escaped the flood. Most of the schools re-opened as soon as the waters receded. A few of the buildings can not be used before fall, and pupils are boubling up. half time/ in nearby schools.

The Red Cross has distributed aid to 5,000 families, most of them having received an average of |25 each. More aid is to be extended in the way of a start in housekeeping. and in all aLout $400,000 will be used in Dayton. More than 9,000 families have registered as being in need of help.

WHY WOMEN PREDOMINATE

Weaker Sex Possess Greater Power Than Men In Shaking Attacks of Disease. . ' ~s ■ ' : ' London wThe fact that in almost all civilized countries women outnumber men has been ascribed to the higher birth rate of girl babies; yet statistics show that 105 boys are born to every 100 girls. According to figures compiled by an European statistician, the girl has a better chance than the boy of attaining her maturity. He finds,that from the third to the fifteenth year the mortality for both sexes is the same; from the fifteenth to the nineteenth year, the critical age

for girls, the girl’s chances are slightly better than the boy’s; from the thirtieth to the thirty-fifth year the mortality among women is smaller than among meh, and it continues smaller until the seventieth year. Then for a decade and a half the sexes once more have the same chance of survival, but about eighty-five years of age woman again stands a better chance than man.

To account for this difference the statistician points out that woman has greater resilience in shaking off disease than man. It is true that the physical strength of man is greater than woman’s, but a woman’s power of endurance is more robust

One reason for this is that woman possesses a finer perception of ,her power of endurance than a man, and when her perception warns her of fatigue she stops. A man does not stop until his power is exhausted. His nervous system is not as finely organized as a woman’s, and, as Masso, the Italian physiologist, has pointed out men and women are entirely dependent on their nerves for caution not to overexert. While it is true that women more easily contract many diseases, particularly nervous and mental diseases, than men. they overcome them more easily.

WILL VISIT FIANCE’S GRAVE

Olga Menn to Sail for Austria on PHgramage to Suicide-Sweet-heart's Tomb.

Chicago.—Still, grieving, although three years have ensued since the suicide of her fiance, the young Baron Oskar Rothschild, Miss Olga Menn, the beautiful daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Rudolph Menn, 1832 Lincoln' avenue, will leave soon for Austria on her annual visit to the baron’s grave

“We hope to sail shortly,” said Mrs. Menn. “It all depends, however, on the condition of Olga’s health. She is slowly recovering from the great shock and I hope this trip abroad will restore her health completely.”

“We shall visit the Rothschilds in Austria, in response to invitations we have received. Later we will travel on the continent My daughter will remain abroad until late in the fall, after which she will visit in the east” The- romance of the beautiful Chicago girl and Baron Rothschild is well known. She had met the young scion of the American branch of the Rothschild family in Chicago while he was making a trip around the world. He fell in love at first sight Miss Menn and her mother went to Vienna for the formal engagement announcement While they were there, the late Baron Albert Rothschild, father of Baron Oskar, gave notice to his son that he would not permit the American girl to become a member of his family. Then Baron Oskar went to his room, wrote a note of farewell to Miss Mena and killed himself.

BALL FOR ELDERLY DANCERS

Paris Has Institution That Is Said to Havs Led to Many Mar* Hagas.

Paris. —We have all known the “bale blancs” for young lads and lasses, the “bale roses" for young couples, “bale d’apaches,” “bale parfumes,” and all sorts of other freak balls, but the "bal mur” Is a novelty.

This has been invented by a charitable hostess for the great parterre of wallflowers, tor men and women who have long hovered over the “forty” line, ydt still desperately claim its neighborhood, or for those who heroically have said good by to dancing before. The name of "bal mur” is not a very flattering one and probably thia category of choreographic fetes will soon come to be known by the more poetic title oi "bal de 8L Martin." referring to the legendary summer afterglow known as the Ete de St Martin. The first one was a great success, and in the two months following it led to no fewer than thirtyseven marriages. In one of these the bridegroom was seventy-eight and the bride sixty-two.

CAMP FIRE STORIES

STIRRING SIGHT ON POTOMAC Pen Picture by Private of Dull Day* Before Early Woke Up Washington In July, 18M. T Some time in June, 1864, we came up from New Orleans, and went into a fort on a hill back of Alexandria, Va. There is a low range of hills there that extends up and down, overlooking the Potomac river. On thia' elevation a chain of forts had been, built some time before, about two miles or so apart, hut at this time there were only a few soldiers in them. For some miles toward Manas-* sas the country is rolling, with here and there a deep ravine and fine woodi lands and nice streams of water. Alexandria was an old, sleepy town, the wheels of progress were stopped, and one would think the war was* over to see the farmers coming in with their butter and eggs to exchange for goods. There is a valley and quite a large brook running through it that empties-into the river on one side of the town. A little way up was an; old gristmill with a large overshot wheel, writes Oscar Pelton, of Portland, Ore., in the National Tribune. Some blockhouses were being built along the * roads going up the valley. Over In Washington everything was quiet. The sidewalks would! be crowded some days with onelegged and one-armed soldiers hobbling alongwith a sprinkling of officers and men with tanned faces and shabby uniforms that would tell you at a glance* that they had seen hard service at* the front Everyone felt safe, no danger, and many were going to the* theater and having,, a good time. It was the calm before the storm. On July 1 we had been drilling on the big guns and having target practice for some days. At night a great squad would be sent out over different roads leading out of Alexandria, and men were sent with dispatches at midnight from one fort to the other all along Arlington Heights. It was thought that Mosby might make us a visit I think it was about July 10 or 11. A lot of us had been out'on the road leading back toward Manassas all night and were coming in in the morning. It was very hot weather. We got in the fort at 9 or 10 a. m. We had coffee and a. lunch. It was so hot that a few of us went out under some trees. We had a fine view of the river for ten miles. • “What’s up?” we asked. “There' Isn’t a boat to be seen on the river this morning.” We all looked. “It never has been that way since wo have been here.” Below Alexandria the river bends around, so boats coming up would seem to come out from behind the timber to us. As we were sitting under the trees later we happened to look down, and saw a great fleet of transports coming out from behind the timber. It was no time before they were nearly up to Alexandria, and still they kept coming out from behind tho timber. We all jumped to our feet, and one said: “What’s upt* All the garrison came out to watch. It seemed that every boat was trying to see which would reach Washington first. They were now passing Alexandria. We would see by the foam dashing out from behind the great sidewheel transports that every pound of steam was crowded on. The last boats were passing us, and they filled up the river for nearly ten miles, and Lhelr decks were crowded with soldiers. The music struck up on some of the transports, and there never will be such a grand sight on the old Potomac again. A dispatch bearer came to the fort, and reported that there was a large Confederate army before Washington, and 40,000 were being brought from the Army of ths Potomac to reinforce the forts north of the city. We had heard cannonading, but thought it target practice, but the old private was not supposed to know anything, anyway.

On Quarterdeck of Mule.

On the capture of Morris Island the whole mass of men was thoroughly pervaded by that feeling of hilarity that follows a quickly successful en-gagement-soldiers and sailors shout* ing. singing, happy. A bronzed blujacket had captured a mule, and without difficulty mounted It He perched himself near the animal’s tall, the mule objecting in every known way of a mule and in some ways until then unexhlblted. “Jack, sit more amidships,” said Hardy, the first engineer of the Weehawken, "and you will ride easier.” “Captain, this is the first craft I was ever in command of,” said he. “and it is a pity if I can't stay on th* quarterdeck."

Bees and All.

While the Army of the Cumberland was on the march from Bridgeport. Abu to Louisville, Ky„ one brigade was commanded by Colonel Willich of the Thirty-second Indiana. He had been an officer In the Ge rman army. One day a planter came to camp and complained that the boys had taken all of his honey. The colonel asked him if the boys had taken his bees. "Oh. no?’said he. ■ > “Oh. veil,” said the colonel, "dot la nodings den; in de oldt country ve take pees and all.”