Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 133, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 June 1914 — Page 3

BROADWAY JONES

by EDWARD MARSHALL

FROM THE PLAY OF GEORGE N.COfiAM

SYNOPSIS. Jackson Jones, nicknamed "Broadway” because of his continual glorification of Now York’s great thoroughfare, is anxious to get away .from his home town of Jor .svUle. Abner Jones, his uncle, Is Very angry because Broadway refuses to settle down and take a place in the gum factory in which* he succeeded to his father's interest Judge Spotswood informs Broadway that 1250,000 left him by his father is at his disposal. Broadway makes record time in heading for his favorite street in New York. With his New York friend, Robert Wallace, Broadway creates a sensation by his extravagance on the White Way. Four years pass and' Broadway suddenly discovers uiat he is not only broke, but heavily In debt. He applies to his uncle for a loan and receives a package of chewing gum with the advice to chew it and forget his troubles. He quietly seeks work without success. Broadway gives what is intended to be a farewell supper to his New York friends, and before it is over becomes engaged to Mrs. Gerard,’ and ancient widow, wealthy and very giddy. Wallace expostulates with the aged flirt. CHAPTER V.—Continued. j Broadway did not even wince, but turned back to his Beatrice. “And how 1* my little banquet queen this morning?” “I came here happy as a lark,” she •aid complainlngly, "but now I'm terribly upset." “Why, what has happened to my little round of pleasure?" He smiled •erenely, worshipfully Into her scarcely hidden wrinkles. ‘Thfe man has been saying terrible things to me." , ■ Jackson whirled reproachfully upon his friend. “Why, Bob! What have you been saying to my little Beatrice ?” “Oh, don’t!” implored the utterly disgusted Wallace. “Tell me,” Jackson begged in comforting tones-of the excited widow; “what has he been saying to you?" “Calling it a ridiculous match, sayIng that I shouldn’t take you seriously, Intimating that you didn’t really love me, and —-J- - She was very close to tears, but fought them back for the sake of. a complexton which she feared might not be waterproof.

Broadway went with an accusing mien to Wallace. “You said these things!" “Yes," said that young person, unashamed, “those and a great many more?’ “Bob Wallace! Pm surprised! Shame-on you!” Wallacd scarcely was prepared for this. "Now see here, Jackson, I—” He did not complete the sentence, but seised his old friend by the lapels of his coat as If to bear him from the room to some spot where, unworried by the lady's, presence, he could talk or hammer sense Into, his head. ’ ? But Broadway would not have this. He pulled away with emphasis. "Don’t do that! Don’t do that!" he cried. “You’ve—you’ve Insulted my future, wife and I demand apologies!” Were all his plans for paying up his debts to be thus put at naught? Was his first venture as a financier to be thus nullified? He thought not! “You mean to say you're going to be married?” “Of course we’re going to be married,” Mrs. Gerard said very snapplly. * "Of course we’re going to be married," Broadway echoed with a quick glance at her which Wallace thought held something indicating apprehension. : He stood aside with face all woebegone, worried and amazed. If this thing—this unthinkable, unbelievable insanity—was seriously planned by

“Do You Realize What People Are Go ing to Say?"

hie young friend, if he had actually passed his word, why then, of cburse, nothing more was to be said upon the subject. "Very well then; I apologize,** he said dejectedly. "Not to me," said Jackson grandly, "to the lady.” Wallace went to her in humility of attitude, but in revolt of soul. "Mrs. Gerard** (he never before had found it difficult to avoid profanity in a lady’s presence), "I offer a thousand apologies." She was not convinced of his sincerity, which was not in the least surprising. "After such impertinence I don’t know that I ought to accept your apology** "But, don’t/ you see? I thought it was all a joke.” This was a new offense. “But why

should you think such a thing? Is it at all unusual that people In love should marry?** He thought her positively aged as he looked at her. Every wrinkle in her countenance took on new length, new depth as he observed her. From her he looked to Jackson. How very young he seemed! A mere child. In fact. “Why, no,” he granted, knowing that he Bed. *Of course not But I—l didn’t understand. I—” Broadway, himself with nerves unstrung almost to hysteria, began to hum a tune and walk about endeavoring to look unconscious. Wallace eyed him with ndw hope kindling in his eyes. Was It after all, a jest? “Now see here, Jackson; if you’re trying to fool me I want to know! I —" Mrs. Gerard, who had been upon the point of granting him forgiveness, stiffened in new wrath. “There you go again!" she screamed hysterically. “Abother Insult!” ' “Really, Mrs. Gerard, I didn’t mean it” 7 “Then what did you mean?” The lady fixed him with a baleffit glance. He was entirely undone. “Why, I God knows! I don’t!” “Well," said Jackson, “I think I do. You’re still in doubt as to whether or not we are really going to be married. Isn’t that it?” Put thus lucidly and simply, Wallace could not definitely deny that that explained his mental state. He had opened his distressed lips to admit this 'frhen Mrs. Gerard prevented the expression of his worries with: “But why should he imagine such a thing? I—” Broadway rose to the occasion, nearly making Wallace faint with the glib ease with which he used endearing words when talking to the ancient dame. “Just a moment, sweetheart — dearie—please!" Then he turned to Wallace. “Come on, now; tell me the truth!” ' - 7

“Well, I will admit," said his miserably heartsick friend, “that at first I did think it was a joke. But—" “And you’re not quite satisfied yet that It Is not?" “Why, of course, If you say—why—” ‘Til put you right. ■ It’ll all 'true. We're engaged. We’re going to be married and we expect to be very happy. Do you believe It, now?" “Why, certainly, if you say so." His next question was of Mrs. Gerard. “May I ask how long you've been engaged?” “We became engaged last night at dinner." ■ < - ■. "That’s right. It was,last night at dinner,” her fiance corroborated. “It was during the Ice cream." “It all happened in a moment,” said the bride-elect. “Just like this,” said Jackson. “See? Only one question asked: ‘Will you marry me?’ And I said *Yes.’* "What?" cried his horrified Inamorata. “I mean she said *yes.* Beatrice said ‘yes,’" corrected Jackson. “We’re going to spend our honeymoon In Spain," she gushed, restored to a good temper by Broadway’s explanation. ’/S I '',’-- "Spain!" It was Wallace who exclaimed. "Yes, Spain,” said Broadway, too elated at the thought of finding cash to pay bills to be worried about anything. “I’m going out this afternoon to buy a sombrero and a. tambourine. Won’t you congratulate us, Wallace?" But Wallace simply could not trust his ears. “Jackson, if you’re trying to fool me—” “There he goes again!” cried the now thoroughly infuriated bride-elect. “Jackson, I’m not going to stay here and be insulted in such a manner!" "There! There!" Jackson soothed, following her as she essayed to leave the room. “Don’t be worried. Mr. Wallace only thinks we’re fooling him." "But why should he think such a thing?" „ ? T ■ Wallace, again contrite, approached and started io apologize. She waved him back with a wild hand. "Leave him to me, dear," Jackson urged her. “In five minutes 111 convince him that Jt all Is absolutely true.” --V- \. She was comforted a little by his tone. "Then you won’t come for a drive?” < ’ "Stop for me in, say, half an hour.” "Well, I’ll run along, then. I must get the air. All this has given me a dreadful headache.” Jackson turned reproachfully to Wallace. “See what you've deme? I—” “Bye bye, dearie!" cried his fiancee. "Bye bye, sweetheart!" . “In half an hour?" "About that.” “Don’t you listen to that man!” This in a warning tone. “No; I’m going to make him listen to me.” "Oh, you dear boy! Bye bye, dearie!" She waved a plumply wrinkled hand at him, and left the two young men alone "Say, are you going crazy?” were Wallace’s first words, spoken as soon as he was sure that she was gone. \ “Nothing of the kind. I’m perfectly Mil rigiit. 3°“ mean to tell me that—" Tve got a whole lot to tell you. Bit down.” - ;■ W • •

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

As Wallace found a chair and, as if exhausted, sank into it, Broadway paced the room uneasily. <C£ M The bell rang and Rankin hurried in, on his way to answer it. ’ '77 “If it’s anyone for me, Fm not at home,” said Broadway. "I’m visiting in—Paterson.” ‘ ’ He turned again to Wallace. - “Now, in the first place," he said gravely, "I want you to understand thoroughly that I’m positively serious about this whole affair and that nothing you can say will change my plans. Is that understood?" “Well, go on.” “Mrs. Gerard and I are going to be married, and it’s going to happen very shortly, whether you like it or not If you care to retain my friendship you must get used to it" —he sighed—“the same as I shall have to. Am I clear?” “Well, I’m listening.” Broadway sighed again. "I know several girls who will cry very bitterly.

Peter Pembroke.

and I know a lot of fellows who will laugh very heartily; but the fact remains that the lady who just left this room Is to become Mrs. Jackson Jones. So, once and for all, get it out of your head that it Is a Joke.” He glanced distastefully at his very mournful friend, who seemed, somehow, to have shriveled as he heard all this uncompromising talk. "And don’t sit there like a pallbearer! Smile! Utter, a few kind words! Say something, anyhow! I—’’ Wallace leaned toward him, his eye lighting with the fire of combat. “Now—’’ “Don’t you dare to give me any argument about this thing! It would only be a waste of words. My mind is positively made up." “Do you realize what—" "What people are going* to say? Of course I do. Tve gone over all of that I’ve threshed it out with myself from every possible angle. I know what they're going to say, and I know exactly what they’re going to think." “Well, what are they going to think?” "The natural thought will be that I am marrying her for her money.” “Nonsense. They’ll know better than that Everyone’s aware that you have all the money any man could—” "So you think so?” For the first time Broadway laughed. It was a scornful, scathing, tragic laugh. It startled Wallace. “WeH, haven’t your "Just a second. Rankin! Oh, Rankin!" . Rankin Was entering, even as he called, bringing In a telegram. Broadway took it without heeding It and thrust It in his pocket unopened. He was Intent on showing Wallace how affairs really were with him. "Rankin,” he warned the man, “I don’t want to be disturbed for the next ten minutes. I have some business which I wish to talk over with Mr. Wallace without a single interruption." "Very well, sir." As soon as the man had left the room Broadway settled to his task of making a clean breast of It *Tm going to let you in on a little secret Bob—my secret No one else in the world knows. I wouldn’t tell anyone else but you. I wouldn't tell you if it weren’t for the tact that we’ve always been so close and such good friends. But remember—it’s Masonic!" Wallace gravely bowed. "Certainly.” He was intensely puzzled; he could not Imagine what was coming. s&ld Broadway with do further prelude, "Bob, I’m broke!” “You’re . . . what?” said Bob Aucrcuuiuuni v

WITH PHOTOGRAPHS \J FROM MNLS IN THE PLAY COffPANG

“Broke. Dead broke. Are you surprised?” “Say, what kind of a joke is this?” Broadway laughed ruefully. "It’s no joke to be broke, Bob; but it’s even worse than that with me. I’m in debt!” “In debt!" . * "To the extent of about fifty thousand dollars.” "Well, what have you done with all your money?” 7'’77 “Put it back into circulation where it came from,” Broadway answered, sighing. "You mean Wall street?” “No; Broadway.” - • “Investments gone wrong?" “I never Invested any money. The only thing I ever did was to spend it” "But you couldn’t spend all the money you had!" "It was easy. Everyone seemed glad to take it" "But I supposed you had an enormous income." "Well, that’s what they an thought and still think. That’S why I’ve been able to go along and run head over heels in debt I owe tailor bills, boot bills, jewelry bills, flower bills, restaurant bills. I’ve got a stack of bills in that room there that would make Rockefeller complain of the high cost of living, and I can’t pay them because Fm broke. Flat . . . broke! It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?" ,- f “Why, you always led me to believe that you were a millionaire?" “Not exactly that But I did not deny the stories that, somehow, got to going round. Maybe I lied a little. At that I would be worth a million by now if I’d had any business ability, with the bank roll I had to start with."

"When I came here to New York and started to burn up Broadway, five years or so ago, I was worth two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. There was cash, real estate and my small interest in the chewing gum factory. First thing I did was spend the cash, then I sold the real estate, then I sold my Interest in the factory. "I had no use for anything but cash. “My Uncle Abner bought me out and cheated me. He paid me just a hundred thousand, a measly hundred thousand, for my share of the property out of which he’s since then made a dozen fortunes. I hear the gum trust offered him a million dollars for the plant and the good will last year.” "Jones’ Pepsin!” "Yes; Jones* Pepsin, made in Jonesville. It’s the oldest gum on the market. Ever chew it?” "No.”

“Don’t. It’s awful. It’s terrible stuff!” "Well, go on. What happened, then?” < “I could scarcely wait to get hold of that money and get out of that town. I wanted New Yorkl’nothing but New York. I had heard about New York; I had road about New York; I’d been down here as a kid on visits. I talked New York, I dreamed New York. Why, from the time I was a kid, In knickerbockers, to the time I left Jonesville, everybody called me ’Broadway.’ That’s where It began.’’ "I thought Jt started hero." "No! when I was a kid in Jonesville. That was my name—‘Broadway’ —just because I wore patent-leather shoes and put on a clean collar, now and then. That’s the kind of a town it

’Tve lived up to the name, I guess. I know every newsboy, policeman, actor, chorus girl, wine agent, gambler and bartender on the street I’ve been to bed just one night in five years before six o’clock In the morning and that was when I had a toothache and my face was swollen. It was not the

PLAN FOR BEAUTIFYING PARIS

Recreation Grounds and Two Im- <' menae Parka Are Contemplated in Scheme Put Forward. The prefect of the Seine, M. Delanney, has drafted a large and fascinating scheme for developing and beautifying Paris. Baron Haussmann’s so-. mous renovation would be almost put In the shade. The boundaries of Paris would be extended so as to Include all the suburbs which lie round the fortifications, and create a "Greater Paris" six times larger than the present city. The Inner fortifications—the haunt of low characters, who terrify the dweller In the suburbs on his way home at night—which have king been dismantled, would be completely removed. The feverish building that would certainly follow would be carefully regulated. There would be a groat number of new open spaces. No city needs them more. Memories of the Bole and the openness of the Champs Elyses are apt to deceive English visitors In this respect Paris Is Inhabited by 148 persons, to the acre; London by only M. Such things as the

pain that kept me in; it was the looks of the puffed face.” He drew his breath in slowly, almost wonderingly. "Oh, what J haven’t done to Broadway!” he continued. "Well, you’ve seen me. You’ve been with me. You know." Wallace nodded. “I always thought you were pretty speedy, but I thought You could afford it The trouble with you is you’ve been too liberal.” "Liberal! Why, when I go into a restaurant the waiters come to blows to see who’ll get me. In barber shops as I approach you’d think some one had just yelled ’Fire!’ the way the barbers dash tor the chairs,. Oh, I’ve been the bright-eyed baby boy around this town, all right It’s cost me a fortune —all I had.” '7 His voice trailed into silence; Wallace sat looking at him dumb. "But I’ve had a wonderful time!” said Broadway finally. “How long have you been broke?” “About six months. My credit’s carried me on. When I first went broke I made up my mind I wouldn’t run in debt no matter what happened. I put on an old suit of clothes that morning, and started out looking for a job." “Whatklnd of a job?" “Any kind of a job. Messenger boy, elevator boy—l didn’t care! I promised myself I’d earn my living without begging, borrowing or stealing." He told Wallace of his stealthy search for the elusive job which was to have paid up his debts and started him again, this time as a millionaire In process of construction of nqw millions. "I started looking for a ’boy-wanted’ sign. It sounds funny, but It is a fact. My intentions were the best in all the world. But I got to thinking of some thing else, after 1 had walked a block or two, and where do you suppose I was when I woke up? In Delmonlco’s, eating breakfast! Turned in there out of force of habit. "I made a dozen attempts to do the right thing. I cut out automobiles and rode in street cars for three days; I went to an opening night at a theater and sat In the gallery; I bought a pair of ready-made shoes; I ate meals at a forty-cent table d-hote and smoked five-cent cigars—practicing, just practicing, trying to get used to it _"But I couldn’t. That was all—l simply couldn’t! All my good resolutions went to smash every time I took a look at Broadway. I knew my credit was good; the things I wanted were there; I could have them; so—well, I took them, that was all!” "And now," said Wallace, who had sat, at first Incredulous, and, later, spellbound, during the recital, “you are fifty thousand dollars in debt!” . , "I don’t know the exact amount, but that’s a fairly good guess.” ** “You’ve been pretty quiet about It. It hasn’t seemed to worry you much!"

"Hasn’t worried me?" Broadway’s voice was bitter. “Well, I don’t mind telling you that I have just come out of the first sound sleep I’ve had in weeks. I’ll bet I walked to Chicago and back every night the first month I was broke." "I don’t understand?" - "I mean If you had measured up my carpet by the mile. I thought so much and worried so much that I didn't dare trust myself alone. I had the weirdest Ideas; I did the craziest things. Do you know that.l belong to the Salvation Army?” , ' "What!". .. . . 5“On the leveL I went to Newark and joined one rifght." "What was the idea?" "I thought It might help me forget my troubles. I played the bass drum for two nights and couldn’t stand it any longer. Er—have you ever been In Newark?" (TO BB CONTINUED.)

garden squares of London are unknown in Paris. The largest open space within Paris proper is the cemetery of Peru Laohalse, which la not exactly gay. Markets, barracks, and hospitals would all be removed to the outskirts, and their sites used as open spaces. The land containing the inner ring of forts would become almost entirely recreation ground, and two immense new parks .would be created north and south of Paris.

St. Paul’s Appearance.

All that we know of Paul's personal appearance, from his own writings, is found in n. Corinthians 10:10, which indicates that he did not possess the advantage of a distinguished or imposing presence. His sight weak (see Acts 83:5, and Galatians 4:13) nor did be regard his address as impressive. Much of thia personal criticism, however, may have been the outcome of the apostle’s desire to avoid magnifying himself or his own talents. A fourth century tablet represents Um as venerable looking and dignified, with a high, bald forehead, full-beard-ed, and with features indicating fores of character _ ~

The Credibility of Christ's Resurrection

By REV. WILLIAM EVANS, D.D.

Dnctor o( Obi. Coon. Moody BMe iMitote, Oia«>

TEXT—Acts 1A

believing too readily, and with no reason for the faith or hope. The resurrection of Christ is a fact proved by competent evidence, and deserving of intelligent acceptance and belief. It is a doctrine buttressed by “many infallible proofs.” The line of proof here suggested is that from the argument of cause and effect. Certain things, conditions, institutions exist in our midst today; they are the effects of causes, or a cause; what is that cause. We may mention: 1. The Empty Tomb. The fact that the tomb was empty to testified to by competent witnesses —both friends and enemies: by the women, the disciples, the angels, and the Roman guards. How shall we account for the absence of the body of Jesus from the tomb? That it had not been stolen by outside parties to evident from the testimony of the soldiers who were bribed to tell that story (Matt. 28:11-15). Such a guard never would have allowed such a thing to take place. Their lives would have been thereby jeopardized. And if they were asleep (v. 13), how could they know what took place? Their testimony under such circumstances would be useless. The condition in which the linen cloths were found lying by those who entered the tomb precludes the possibility of the body being stolen. Had such been the case the cloths would have been taken with the body, and not left in perfect order, thereby showing that the body had gone out of them. Burglars do not leave things in such perfect order. There is no order In haste. Then again, we have the testimony of angels to the fact that Jesus had really risen as foretold (Matt 2816; Mark 16:6). The testimony of angels is surely -trustworthy (Heb. 2:2). 2. The Lord’s Day. The Lord’s Day is not the original Sabbath. Who dared change It? For what reason, and on what ground was

It changed? Ponder the tenacity with which the Jews held on to their Sabbath given in Eden, and buttressed amid the thunders of Sinai. Recall how Jews would sooner die than fight on the Sabbath day (cf. Titus’lnvasion of Jerusalem on the Sabbath). The Jews never celebrated the birthdays of great men; they celebrated events, like the Passover. Yet, in the New Testament times we find Jews changing their time-honored seventh day to the first day of the week, and, contrary to all precedent, calling that day after a man—the Lord’s Day. Here Is an effect, a tremendous effect; what was its cause? We cannot have an effect without a cause. 3. The Christian Church. We know what a grand and noble Institution the Christian church is. What would this world be without it? Its hymns, worship, philanthropy, ministrations of mercy are all known to us. Where did this institution come from? It is an effect, a glorious effect; what Is its cause? When the risen Christ appeared unto the discouraged disciples and revived their faith and hope, they went forth, under the all-conquering faith in a risen and ascended Lord, and preached the story of his life, death, resurrection, ascension, and coming again. Men believed these teachings; gathered themselves together ta study the Scriptures, to pray, to worship Christ, and to extend his kingdom among men. This is how the chureh came into, existence. 4. The New Testament. If Jesus Christ bad remained bune& in the grave, the story of bls life and death would have remained buried with him. The New Testament Is an effect of Christ’s resurrection. It was the resurrection that-put heart Into the disciples to go forth and tell its story. Skeptics would have us believe that the resurrection of Christ was an afterthought of the disciples to give the story of Christ’s life a thrilling climax; a decorative incident which satisfies the dramatic reeling in man; a brilliant picture at the end. of an heroic life. We reply: There would have been no beautiful story to put a climax to if there bad been no resurrection of the Christ of the story. The resurrection does not grow out of the beautiful story of hla life, but the beautiful story of Christ’s Ufa grow out of the fact of the resurrection. The New Testament is the book of the resurrection of Christ

Credibility refers to the acceptance of a fact in a madher that de* serves belief; it is belief based up- . on good authority, ; reliable facts, and competent witto teHef inching without respect to the strength or weakness, reliability or unreliability of the authority, facts, or witnesses; it to a