Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 241, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 October 1913 — Page 3

HAPPENINGS THE CITIES

Routed a Vision Clothed in Purple and Ermine

CLEVELAND, O.—“ Big Bill” Eirick, who furnishes verbal pyrotechnics of many hues at meetings of the board of county commissioners, is a firm believer in divine charity and in extending aid to Indigent persons in the county, but he does strenuously object when that self-shine indigency is clothed in purple and ermine. A few days ago, just as Commissioner Eirick had let loose some sev-enty-horse power remarks about the bills of Coroner Byrne to the delight of the newspaper men assembled, a large woman, flashily clothed in slit skirt and immense picture hat, sailed into the office accompanied by a modest little boy of —er —seventeen, who clung timidly to his mother’s gown. Commissioner Vail, cool and phlegmatic, looked up, took a long breath and gallantly offered her his chair. Commissioner Fischer leaped back expectantly. "I am aft indigent person,” the

Backs Mary’s Little Lamb to Fight a Bulldog

CHICAGO.— Nicholas Murphy, 1102 West Forty-Seven thstreet, was haled before the Englewood police court the other day for Indulging In what might properly Jse termed a “lamb stew.” Mr. Murphy, bound on a zigzag course for the next saloon, chanced to pass the home of Mrs. Katherine Kllna, 5121 South Robey street, when he saw a snow-white animal gamboling on the green. Mr. Murphy was lonesome and longed for a companion. “Bulldog,” muttered Mr. Murphy, as he clung to the fence 'for a closer Inspection. “Always I’ve wanted a bulldog, and that’s a beauty.” Mr. Murphy sauntered info the yard and cut the rope by which the animal was tethered. Then he led It frisking gaily down the street. Through the swinging doors of the first saloon he proudly led his newly acquired prize. The bartender’s eyes bulged and a loud guffaw went up from the customers. “What’s th’ matter?” asked Mr. Murphy. “He’s a thoroughbred bulldog and his name>ls Timothy." "That ain’t a bulldog; it’s a lamb,” insisted the bartender. Mr. Murphy's pride was wounded — so wounded that he left without buy-

Only Music She Ever Played Was on Washboard

DETROIT, iflCH.—Mrs. William Babt is a militant purveyor of music as she is interpreted through the phonograph. Mrs. Babt says her Instrument is "some machine” and she further declarers she'll play It whenever she sees fit so to do, complaints from the neighbors notwithstanding. Harkening to a lengthy lament from some of the woman’s neighbors, Police Justice Stein had Mrs. Babt In court the other day, while William Anderson, himself a cornetist of no mean ability, appeared as representative of the Indignant neighborhood. “Judge, she plays that confounded phonograph all night long,” said Anderson. “No, siree, I don’t,” said Mrs. Babt,

What a Cruel Dog Did to a Soft Shell Turtle

INDIANAPOLIS, IND.—There are five members of the Hanson family and every one Is tender-hearted and has strong sympathy for all dumb creatures that are In distress. Early In July Hans, the younger boy, came into possession of two small soft shell turtles. ’’He took them home and put them in a little pond and before many days had elapsed the entire Hanson family was talking baby talk to the turtles. A dog that had been restored to health in the Hanson family hospital in the back yard, whil6 nosing around, Game on the two turtles peeping out of the little pond. He grabbed one of them and ran into a corner of the yard and began to chew on it Hans saw him, called IJhe other members of the family to his aid and they drove the dog away. Hans followed the dog and scolded him. He said: “You naughty dog, I will tell a detective on you and he will put you in jail for jumping Onto a poor little turtle.” The dog appeared ashamed and slunk

vision calmly announced, brushing back a stray curl and dazzling the commissioners with an array of brilliants on' her fingers. “My boy, Algernon, here, was bitten by a mad dog and treated at the Pasteur institute. They charged us SIOO and I want the county to pay it” “How can you be an indigent person and wear such expensive clothes and jewelry?" finally came from Mr. Elrick’s throat, after a heroic effort '■ “Why, what do you mean?” the vision indignantly answered. “It is my boy here who is indigent. I need all my money for myself so as to look up-to-date.” The little boy, nearly six feet tall, squirmed uneasily, while the commissioners looked him over. «

Letting every word drop with caustic emphasis, Commissioner Eirick read the vision a lesson in poverty, real and fancied.- His associates sat spellbound. Satire sharper than the keenest Damascus blade, now descending to chiding, now rising to whiplash admonition, kept the air Sizzlirig for just three minutes, and when the astounded vision recovered from the shock she shot one look, and, oh, such a look, at the commissioner and majestically, haughtily, marched out of the room without a word.

Ing a drink. Meanwhile little Mary Klina had missed her pet and had started in pursuit. She followed the trail for many blocks and. past many swinging doors. Finally she heard a loud commotion in the rear yard of a saloon, and heard Mr. Murphy saying: “Sic ’lm, Tim, sic ’im.” She ran into the yard and saw Mr. Murphy attempting to push the timorous, awkward lamb toward a savage, bowlegged English bull, which its hilarious owner was holding in leash. “Bet you $lO Tim can lick ’m," Murphy was saying. "He’s a young one, but he’s a fighter when he gets started. It’s hard to get ’lm started." Mary grabbed up her pet and fled home to her mother, who had Mr. Murphy arrested. He was dismissed when the court learned that Mary’s lamb had weathered the adventure unscathed.

who had her husband with her to lend whatever moral support he could. '“I go to bed with the chickens. That’s why I’ve lived such a long and useful life.” The judge exhibited some curiosity as to the kind of music the instrument disgorged and Mrs. Babt was quick to say that she at all times eschewed rag time and clung largely to the classics. “I don’t play no ragtime,” she declared. “The nearest I come to that is ‘Kelly,’ and that’s a grand old tune.” Mrs. Babt discoursed at length on Mr. Anderson’s ability as a cornettlst.' She said sfye didn’t mind the cornet. In fact, she averred with some show of feeling that she loves music. “Of course," said Mrs. Babt, “I’ve never had any chance to play any myself. I just know I’d a been, a grand musicianer. The only music I ever played was on a washboard. So I saved up what I could and bought me a phonograph and this is the thanks I get.’* The judge finally disposed of the matter by telling. Mrs. Babt to go home and make her peace with her neighbors.

away tA the coal shed. Ilans ntirsed the turtle, applying ointments and plasters for several days, but it finally turned its shell to the ground and it was all over. ..The next day neighbors saw all the members of the Hanson family, the father, mother, two boys and a girl, with bowed heads near the turtle pond. After the funeral was over this epitaph was found painted on a square block over the turtle’s grave: “Turtle Hanson, borned —don’t know when —died July 19 at the handl of a cruel dog who bit him to death. It was a good turtle but a

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

MORGAN'S HOUSE IN EGYPT

AMONG the many benefactions to art of the late Mr. Pierpont Morgan one of the less_ known was his support of Egyption archaeology. The house shown in the accompanying illustration was built at his expense near Luxor, Upper Egypt, as the headquarters of the Egyptian expedition of the Metropolitan museum of New York. The expedition secured a concession from the Egyptian department of antiquities to excavate part of an ancient cemetery in the northern part of Thebes, about three miles from the Nile. The work undertaken will take many years to complete, and not only was a permanent home necessary for the archaeologists engaged on it, but also store-rooms and work-rooms. The designing of the house involved something of a responsibility, because the house had to be built so that it should not interfere with the view of the Great Temple, or bring any note of triviality to a scene made so magnificent by the backing of towering cliffs. The probable presence of buried tombs over most of the area dictated that the house should be built on the side of a low hill to the south. Even so, the whole site when excavated was found to be honeycombed with tombs which had been rifled in ancient times. The ground was leveled into terraces, and foundations of rubble masonry were carried down to the living rock. Provision had to be made, not only for one or two married couples, and two bachelors, but also for the accommodation of several guests. As the work of the expedition is carried on from November to July, the building had to be suited both to hot and cold weather. The excessive heat from April onwards, when the shade temperature often reaches 118 degrees, called for a plentiful provision of verandahs, which run along almost the whole of the north side, and the domed hall, which serves as the chief livingroom, is surrounded on three sides by corridors. The breadth of the verandahs ensures that the glare of the desert shall be shut out, and that the maximum of coolness shall be achieved. The bedrooms are provided with a double roof, giving an air space of eighteen inches. In the lower roof, self-shutting trap-door ventilators are fixed over the beds, and they let out the hot air and so created a draught.

Natives Did Work. As the work was done wholly by natives, there were entertaining moments during its prbgress, and the architect was called upon to do a good deal more than falls to the lot of the profession in this country. The contractor was a native from Luxor, Awadalahh Ahmed Omar, by name, and the organization of the work was purely patriarchal in character. If the Woodwork be excepted the whole of the work was carried out by six men, all members of the contractor’s family, and three generations were represented. The chief bricklayer, a youth of seventy, was Awadallah’s father-in-law, and a faithful Mohammedan, who had made his pilgrimage to Mecca. He ruled, not only the other workmen, but his chief, with a rod of iron. Practically the whole of the three domes he built with his own hands. In order that no one should Interfere with his special work, and partly to emphasize his absolute control of everybody concerned, he made for himself on the roof, and against the large dome, a little hut of mats. The whole of the walls above the masonry foundations were built of sun-dried bricks made of Nile mud and chopped straw —a specification which recalls the difficulties of Isreal In Egypt. They were made by hand In a mold, and carried to the site on camels* backs. Only the piers of the main dome were of local burnt bricks, laid In mud mortar, and the four main arches were faced with red hand-made bricks from Cairo’. The domes themselves were of unbunit bricks, built without centering in the usual eastern fashion, and so skilfully that immediately after they were completed, and while still wet, several men could walk on them safely. The floors of the rooms are of gray cement tiles, made locally. They give a very clean and cool surface, and, In order to exclude such unbidden guests, as snakes and scorpions, the skirtings are of the same tiles. Almost the only unconscious building tradition which Still lingers In Egypt b a survival from the mediaeval

Arab mosque builders. In the laying of red brick floors the modern native still sets the bricka in patterns of lozenges, circles and the like as he goes along, without being told. r Simple and Strenuous. The methods of .the architect in face of unsatisfactory work were simple and strenuous. When he saw any part of the unburnt work ill-laid, he pushed or kicked it over. The offending workman would simply shrug his shoulders and say, with a smile: “Malash" (it does not matter), while Awadallah stood by and hurled, epithets (and sometimes mud) at him, provided always that the offender was not his father-in-law. The carpenters’ and joiners’ work occasioned more trouble than the bricklaying, which was done by unsophisticated Mohammedans. The woodworkers were mostly Christian, and did not like camping in the desert, at so unreasonable a dsitance from cases, inferior whisky and other emblems of civilization. They continually absented themselves in the pursuit of such pleasures, to the great hampering of the work, and were not concerned to offer any valid excuses. The even tenor of construction was enlivened by songs of gardens and fountains, varied by quarrels in which the whole of the staff always took a sympathetic interest and sometimes an active part. On the finishing of the work three sheep were killed, and a fantasia held to celebrate the event.

The delightful simplicity of the exterior is repeated within. The architect relied on mass and grouping rather than on ornament. A panel of Persian tiles here and a folding screen of old Cairene Mushrabyieh work there, are alnjpst the orjly features of conscious decoration, save for wall-hangings of rich Bokhara embroidery in the hall. The furniture was made by an Italian in Cairo, to the architect’s designs, and the buff coverings emphasize the cool character of the cream-colored distempered walls. The great brass lamps hanging from the four main arches are modern Cairene work, copied from old models. The total expenditure, including stables and workrooms was SB,OOO.

HAS A DIARY OF INTEREST

Patriarch Now Residing at Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, Has Kept One for Fifty-Nine Years. Henry Ballinger, an oldtime resident of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, a man close to eighty-one years of age, opens a challenge to the world for having kept a diary continuously for the longest period of time. His record reaches a short while over fifty years. Mr. Ballinger resides at 1031 Mountain avenue, Coeur d’Alene, and spends the greater part of his time now calling on friends and writing page after page of diary daily. He began keeping the diary on September 18, 1854. At that time he was working at the carpenter trade on a high structure In Parke county, Ind. The scaffold upon which he was working gave way and he fell to the earth below. He survived the fall and believed his preservation providential. In that frame of mind he made a record of the accident and circumstances. Since that time every day has added its page in the diary, and incidents which are now In history are mentioned in the pages. Mr. Ballinger is a native.of New Garden (now known as Guildford College Post Office), not far from Greensboro, N. C.» his parents being Quakers.

In April, 1848, he Immigrated to Indiana. He saw the first engine that ran into Richmond, and aided in the building of the first railroad bridge across the Whitewater river, close to Richmond. In 1855 he went to Kansas territory. He was at .Lawrence and took an active part in the border war. In 1856 he returned to Indiana, where he married, after which he settled in Jasper county, la., where he resided upon a farm for a period of thirty years. Seven children were reared from his first wife and five from his second. •He came to Coeur d'Alene in 1900.

"Good Day.”

“Doppel, I'ye been hoping that you would pay me back that >lO you bo* rowed from me six months ago." “Well, all I can say to you just* now, Friend Biggs, is that your optimistic nature does you credit Hare comes my car."

SMILES

INTERRUPTED BTORY. Btapper was in progress and the father was telling about a row which took place in front of his store that morning. “The first thing I saw was one man deal the other a sounding blow, and then a crowd gathered. The man who was struck ran and grabbed a large shovel he had been using on the street and rushed back, his eyes flashing fire. I thought he’d surely knock the other man’s brains out and I stepped right in between them.” The young son of the family bad bpcome so hugely interested in the narrative as it proceeded that he had stopped eating his pudding. So proud was he of his father’s valor his eyes fairly shone, and he cried: “He couldn’t knock any brains out of you, could he, father?” Father looked at him long and earnestly, but the lad’s countenance was frank and open. 'Father gasped slightly and resumed his supper.—Lippincott’s Magazine.

His Practice.

“Hello! Is that Doctor Glizzard’s office?" “Yes.” “I’d like to speak to the doctor.” "He’s busy just now." An hour passed. “Hello! Doctor Glizzard?" “No; this is his office, but he’s busy." Lapse of another hour. "Hello! I want to talk to Doctor Glizzard." “He’s busy." “Busy? What in thunder keeps him so busy?” “He’s playfrig golf."

A DISTINCTION.

Dinks —I don’t see the difference between playing bridge for prizes and gambling for money. Winks —There’s a lot When you play for money you get something worth having.

More Room.

The man went in the shoeman’s shop, His feet were long and wide; The shoeman said: “To try them on You’d better step outside."

In Palliation.

The elderly but well-preserved bachelor was trying to make love to the proud young beauty. "Why, Mr. Squillop,” she exclaimed, In astonishment, “why don’t you take somebody of your own age! You’re as old as—as old as the moral law!” “I know it, Miss Fanny,” he said, "but I’m in a good deal better state of preservation.”

His Work.

First Employer—How long has Gotrox’s boy worked in your office? Second Employer—About half an hour. He has been with us six months now.—Judge.

Lightning Calculator.

“A St. Louis newspaper is offering one hundred dollars for the ten best reasons why people should move to Missouri.” “I could give ten reasons why one shouldn’t.” “Don’t do it.” “Why not?” "Because you would then owe him one hundred dollars.”

The Weary Inquiry.

"I want something in the way of light summer literature. You understand, it must be something very light Indeed.” The boy at the news stand looked at the tourist wearly and inquired : “Do you think we’re selling the stuff by the pound ?”

Too Good Natured.

Bobbie —Oh, mamma! Have you seen Uncle Jake? He looks awful happy. Bobbie’s Mother (anxiously)— What’s the matter with him? “I think he has been taking some of that gqod natured alcohol.”—Life.

Warm Bunch.

Bacon —I see more than 9,000,000 fewer tons of coal were mined in the United Kingdom last year than in the year before. Egbert—Well, they don’t really need It. The suffragette bunch is making it warm enough over there."

Post Graduates.

“Did you teach any young ladies how to swim at the seashore?” **‘No. I merely made them think that I thought they thought 1 was teaching them to swim."

ART’S DISCOURAGEMENTS.

"Why do so many theaters close in the summer time?" “Because,” answered the burlesque manager, “people can't be expected to take much interest in comic costumes during the seaside bathing display.”

Melancholy Fate.

I*4 hate to be a little fly— That la, if I were not me; And here’s my dears, the reason why. Some one would surely swat me.

Proved It.

Mrs. Brown arrived late at the regular meeting of her card club and appeared quite flustered, unlike her usual calm, well-poised self. Upon being asked the cause of her apparent perturbation she explained that, while waiting for the street car, she had been greatly annoyed by a strange man, whe Insisted upon talking to hen "What did you do?" her sympathizing friends. “Well, to show him I was a lady, I slapped his face!"—Judge.

Dutch Courage.

“Excuse me, old man," says the intimate friend, “but, really, you ought not to take on eo many cocktails just before going home to dinner." "It isn’t that I like th’ thingsh," almost weeps the gentleman addressed, in a moment of semi-maudlin confidence. "I don’t care for zhem, but I got to get up shome short o’ courage to be able to ack unconsherned in th' preshenshe o’ m’ wife’sh new butler." —Judge.

Helping the Bride.

When Mrs. Blank, who had always lived near the coast, was married she went to live in a small Kansas town. Shortly after her arrival she called on her butcher and ordered a quart of scallops. “Why, Mrs. Blank," said the dealer, “I guess you will find those at the dressmaker’s. And," he added, kindly, remembering that she was a bride, "I think they’re sold by the yard.”Lippincott’s Magazine.

Neighborly Comment,

Local Busybody (as new residents pass)—Awful people, my dear. The mother! So dreadfully loud. I’m quite sure she isn’t a nice sort of person; and as for the daughter— Vicar’s Wife—Wen, she looks a nice*, quiet little thing. Busybody—My dear, that’s just it. I detest those quiet people. Still waters run deep, you know.—Punch.

Absent Minded.

“Then, Minnie, you are going so get' another physician instead of the old health inspector?” "Yes; he is too absent minded. Recently, .-as" he examined me with the stethoscope he suddenly called out, •Hello! Who is it?’ Fliegende Blaetter, Munich.

FELINE.

Gladys—When people go to the country they leave the cats behind. Marion—Then where do all those on the hotel piazzas come from?

In Boston.

You talk about your breakfast foods Of cedar or of pine: But give me any kind of pie, It’s good enough for mlns.

Explanatory.

Old Isaacs (entering unannounced) *-Vat you mean py holtlng mine daughter In your lap—hey? Young Rosenbaum —Veil, her mutter said she vas worth heir veight In goldt, undt I vas shust doing a leedle calculating—dot’s all! —Puck.

Other Didn’t Exit Dryly.

"At last things are coming my way,” said the actor as he bolted drippin* from the stage. “Eggs-actly!” responded the stagemanager, dryly.