Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 218, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 September 1914 — Page 3

White Women among Cannibals

IF YOU were a woman rich enough to live wherever you wanted to live, to go wherever you wanted to go and to do whatever you • wanted to do, would you clf&ose to go alone into Darkest Africa, and to strike up acquaintance with cannibals? Yet this is what Mrs. Marguerite Roby did, because she loves adventure and was “inoculated” with the longing for traveling in strange places. Maybe you might fancy some wild experiment if you had with you a white companion, man or woman. Or if you went into the jungle you might, if you were a woman, fancy the comfort of a native woman companion. But Mrs. Roby chose for her guides and followers simply the black men of the trackless' African country, and in departing had so won the affection of the natives that they wanted to have her as queen of the Congo. Recuperating from an attack of blackwater fever, the. result of her recent explorations, Mrs. Roby talked entertainingly of her unusual voyagings and some of the queer experiences she had in the course of an 8,000-mile tramp through the largely unexplored and mostly cannibal Kasai country in the lower Congo region of Africa, with only the natives for companions. Mrs. Roby was in New York for eight weeks on her way to the seashore. “I suppose,” she said, “it does take courage—mental as well as physical—to sit all night, as I have, back to back with the negro boy, each well armed with rifles, in an endeavor to quell a mutiny; to be days at a time without the sight of a white person; to travel through the districts infested with sleeping sickness —whole villages were practically wiped out with this dreadful scourge-—to have yous eating and drinking supplies stolen in the depths of the wilderness; to'face the incredible loneliness of the Jungle trail

without any white companions, and to have more than once just missed furnishing a meal for savage natives. But to me it was all a wonderful experience, one I would be glad to repeat—in parts. Traveler Since Childhood. 1 *1 was inoculated young with the desire to travel. As a very young girl I was sent to Australia from England for my health, and that trip developed into a round-the-world trip, which left me determined to see all there was tn the world to see. "As soon,as I was old enough I proceeded to extend my until the unfrequented corners of India. Persia, Australia, China and Japan had little left to offer. Then came Africa,, where all alone I explored the loos known parts of the Congoland. The reported atrocities of the Congo go horrified me that I just had to go and see if they were true. “I traveled from* one rubber post to another, through country often unexplored, taking complete charge of the expedition myself, my native carriers averaging twenty-five or thirty in number. My path was frequently through villages of teannlbal tribes. It was necessary at each post to get a fresh escort, on account of the different dialects used by the different tribes. I was fortunate, however, in having one who knew the languages of all the *

tribes, and he acted as my interpreter throughout the trip. “The responsibility-of providing food depended largely upon me. Salt and beads, given the natives, would get us food occasionally, but as a rule I had to ‘Shoot’ our supper. Fortunately, there is a bountiful supply of game in* Africa, which simplified our provisioning. “My carriers deserted one day at a point between two warring villages, leaving me alone with my interpreter. The village we were making for was inhabited by cannibals, whose chief had a habit of either eating or making slaves of all the other natives who had the temerity to approach his bailiwick. As I approached I feigned not to see him, but kept my gaze on the sky, watching some birds wihging by. Then picking up my gun, I fired, and the birds began dropping all around us. This had the desired effect of impressing him, as I hoped it would, and he became very friendly, promising me food for my followers and myself- 1 -® very special kind of meat. Imagine my horror whlen a few minutes later I saw two men carrying the leg of a black man they had killed the day previous and were then using for food. Shoots Big Game. “The greatest danger,” continued Mrs. Roby, “is not from native treachery or even violence, but from the wild beasts, which infest the camps.” Big and iittle game she shot In profusion, and laughs at the assumption of hunters that any great prestige is attached to anything so simple as shooting big game. “The attention I received in many of the villages was of a remarkable order. Many of the had never tfeen a white woman before, and on my arrival they gathered around me, examined ±y dress, stroked my hair and patted my hands. I had to wear my hair In a plait down my back,

AN AFRICAN JUNGLE

because my boys would steal my pins and amuse themselves, and me very much more, by arranging their hair ir. all sorts of fantastic ways with my pins. I arrived in Elizabethville with three lone hairpins, all that was left of my goodly stock.” Mrs. Roby made a good deal of her journey by/bicycle. “It Js difficult to blaze new trails in African territory,” said Mrs. Roby, “for whenever a new chief comes to the fore the village or province is named after him or by a name of his selection. So the hopelessness of trying to follow a map of any kind is apparent, and mistakes must naturally follow on account of these inevitable errors in maps and charts. “On my* return trip I took many detours, because I heard that the natives had rebelled and were being cruelly massacred. 1 found them in revolt, it is true, but I saw no single instance of the intense cruelty pictured to me, and the natives were really happy, prosperous and contented. When the rains fail and there are no crops, starvation is the result, but then that is true of all the southern climates, India, for instance, and I assure you I left with sadness these strange people who, from a desire to 'boil me for soup' developed an affection so strong that I was asked to be queen of 'he Congo."

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

HIS WAY WAS BEST

By NELLIE CRAVEY GILLMORE.

Alicia turned abruptly from the window as Delafield's form was swallowed up in the throng of pedestrians surging up the avenue. She stood for an insensate Second staring blankly ait the carpet. Then the hot tide of long-pent-up emotions, suddenly released, swept turbulently to her brain. The aching restlessness of five long years flamed into fierce rebellion; the humiliating truth had come to her at last with a sickening sense of certainty. He was the wrong man. If anyone had asked Mrs. pelafield in what respect her husband was deficient, she could hardly have answered the question. His appearance was comely, his manners flawless. He was, perhaps, a step in advance of his colleagues in point of intellect. His integrity had never been assailed. Socially his position was unquestioned; he rode no hobbies; he affected no erratic creeds. He simply did not understand the woman he had married! , Reviewing her wedded life deliberately, critically, Alicia was compelled to admit to herself that never, in a single instance, had Delafield failed her. They had had their trivial differences, their tiffs, but all had come right in the end. She could not recall that he had ever treated her with unreasonableness or discourtesy; as a matter of fact, the very recollection of his uniform tenderness and indulgence nettled her curiosity. In her suddenly awakened resentment shte reflected bitterly that she would almost —yes, (Jutte —have preferred a little of the masculine brutp. pad he comprehended her nature in ever so slight a degree he would have dominated it—and her. Yes —she confessed it unreservedly —what her soul needed, craved, nay, demanded, was a power above its own. She was weary, sick to, death of this eternal bowing to her will, yielding to her every whim and impulse. True', the little tangents in which she had indulged from time to time had been harmless enough, but she had hungered feverishly for excitement, opposition to whet her zeal.

With hysterical perverfeeness she found herself longing for the squalls, if not the storms, of life. Instead of this, and through Delafield, she had been forced to endure year after year this deadly, placid life that was wearing her spirit out by inches. . She sank into a chair and pressed her fingers to her burning eyes. Example after example of her husband’s characterless “good nature” flashed in panoramic succession through her tumultuous mind. She recalled something Bertie Langdon had said to her a year qr two after her marriage. She had remained out late —too late —at a theater supper at Sherry’s with a party of friends. Delafield was wafting up for her on her return. She more than half expected to be reproached, even upbraided. But in her husband’s calm, smiling reception she sought in vain for signs of secret jealousy or disapproval. The placid exterior told nothing. So far as he was concerned, there was nothing to tell!

“Any other man—who cared for his wife —would have been half mad with anxiety,” she had confided to Langdon with a sore heart. “Billy never even looked a protest.” Bertie Langdon had laughed at her vehemence and replied: “What a little simpleton you are, Allie. Any other woman would have been tickled to death to have such an easy-going fellow for a harness-mate. Take it from me, Delafield is a superior fellow. That’s just his way.” Just his way! Ah, that was the slogan. Everybody applied it, and—she reflected dramatically—it was destroying her very soul.

Lottie Henderson had once remarked that William Delafield was a "perfect angel of a man.” She had flirted openly, boldly, with a flashy Westerner, for the sole purpose of rousing her husband’s jealousy —and he had quietly shut his eyes to her maneuvers.

“Do you think It’s because he doesn’t care, Lottie?” she had asked her friend uneasily. “I think It’s because he does, dear,” she answered. “How could he help it? Delafield Is an unusually sensible fellow. That’s just his way.” Well, she was done with that “way." There was another way—of her own—and she would take it.

The long and short of it was, the situation had grown intolerable. It had, in fact, come to a head. She had been beating heir wings' against the cage long enough; the door was open now and the world was before her. The measure was a heroic one, but Delafield should be moved from his apathy of contented assurance at last The tiny Delft toy on the mantel tinkled a merry reminder of Jhe noon hour. Alicia laughed, with a little catch in her throat, as her gleaming eyes were lifted momentarily to its small, round, inane face. “Good-by, you,” dhe said aloud. “Just one of the thousand reminders of this deadly velvet existence that I mean to put an end to forever here and now.’* The blood sprang to her cheeks Jn two throbbing, scarlet disks. The die was cast. Every nerve tingled with exultant, new life-

In a far corner at the room waa « small Chippendale writing desk. She rose, pushed aside her chair, crossed the floor to It and sat down. A blank sheet of paper lay before her. > She picked up a pen, dipped it In the ink and wrote rapidly: Dear Billy: Don't think that my decision is hasty. Oh the contrary, it is the result of mature deliberation. We made a mistake when we took each other. There is nothing really congenial between us. The very absence of friction which marks our daily life is proof positive of our mutual unsuitability. I have nothing for which to reproach you, but I cannot longer endure the strain. I hope you will understand. Farewell, ALICIA. She sealed and directed it carefully and placed the envelope in a conspicuous place on the mantel. Then she hurried up to her room and began to throw things feverishly into her trunk. Delafield, half an hour late to luncheon, ran quickly upstairs and tapped on his wife’s door. There was no response, and he turned the knob and entered. The rdom was empty. His eyes, unaccustomed to gather details, failed to take note of the disorder everywhere. He was conscious of but one sensation —disappointment at finding Alicia gone.

But true of habit, he -put aside the selfish feeling, and, whistling, crossed the corridor to his dressing-room. The solitary meal was rather desolate. Delafield missed his wife’s merry chatter keenly. But he assured himself that he was glad she had gone out. He recalled with a little pang of selfreproach that she had seemed thinner of late than he had ever known her; she appeared to be moping, and he had urged her to take more fresh air. Yes, he was very glad indeed that she was off for an outing. After luncheon he went into the library and drew up a chair to the Are. Then he took a cigar from his pocket and lighted it leisurely. With his head against the cushion, eyes half-shut, he sighed contentedly and began to blow meditative rings of smoke toward the frescoed ceiling. Suddenly, through the blue haze, his narrowed glance focused on Alicia’s letter. He sat up, blinked at it, rose and picked up the envelope. He tore it open with repressed eagerness and read the contents twice —and again. When he restored it to the envelope his fingers shook slightly. But he smiled whimsically. “Poor little girl,” he mused, ‘The house will be lonesome as the grave. But never mind; she needs the change.” ' ✓ fi

Delafield Spent the afternoon at his club. That night he attended ths opera. I Weeks'passed. Alicia mounted the steps a little wearily. The month had told upon her sadly. The once curving lines of throat and contour were sharp and pinched; the pretty pink had quite fled from cheek and lip. The door was ajar, and she entered noiselessly, almost with caution. A bright light gleamed through the library door and she faltered toward it timidly. r Delafield, sitting by the readingtable, cigar in mouth, a magazine in his hands, was the picture of luxurious content.

For an instant the blood sang hot in Alicia’s cheeks; it surged in humiliating waves to the very roots of her hair. She put out a tremulous hand to steady herself against the door facing. Delafield, glancing up carelessly as he turned a new leaf, suddenly dropped the periodical he had been reading, and rose. “Why,” he said joyfully, “when did you get in? Why didn’t you let e» know so that I could have met you?” A scalding miet of tears swam in Alicia’s eyes. She was conscious all at once that she was shaking like a leaf. •

Delafield came toward her, bent and kissed her in the selfsame way he’d always done. She was glad he put hie arm about her; she felt that she must have fallen if he hadn’t Suddenly ehe began to laugh, that she might not cry. “And —and you? Have you missed me, Billy?” she asked faintly. , “Missed you! It’s been a wilderness —that’s all.” “But—but you didn’t look for me. You didn’t try to —” “That was because I wanted you to 'come back, sweetheart.” Delafield caught her as she swayed. A long time she lay on his breast Every, sense seemed drugged with a delicious content. After all, Delafield’s way was the best!

Point in Insurance Law.

The heirs of a merchant who was suffocated by smoke while Ssleep in an hotel bedroom at Schlestadt, Alsace, brought an action against the Paris company with which he had insured his life. There was a clause Id the policy which provided that the company would not be responsible for death by suffocation, except in case of fire. The fatal smoke, it was shown, came from some briquettes which had been left near the fire in the hearth, but were not intended to burn where they had been placed. Counsel for the plaintiffs urged that “fire” did not necessarily mean burning of the whole or part ofiS house. The court “took this view, and gave a verdict for the plaintiffs.

A Compromise.

He (blithely)—Talking about extravagance, just give a woman rope enough— She (blithely)—Well, If you’re going to give me one,. let it be a rope of pearls and call it quits.

„ And feel your thirst slip away. You’ll finish refreshed, J JBL— B cooled, satisfied, s Demand the genuine by full name — "’Sb- Nieknamea encourage auberltudon. gMgWf Nfeh. THE COCA-COLA ATLANTA. GA. y oa ,«e ■■ ntk£aafllHs $2 Arrow think VnEgIHF * - . . _ wfCaca-Cola.

Slight Difference.

“So your maid had pre-empted the sherry bottle, had she?” “No, pre-emptied.”

FACE FULL OF PIMPLES 4240 So. California Ave., Chicago, 111. —“About a year ago my face was full of pimples and red spots. To sleep one night without itching was almost impossible. Some of the pimples would get big and red and If I touched them they would pain, while others would get white heads on them and when they broke open some matter came out. They would burn and Itch and I scratched them so that sometimes they would break and bleed. That always caused them to be worse. “I bought all kinds of salves and creams and I found out that they did me no good. I noticed 1 the Cutlcura Soap and Ointment advertisement and I sent for a free sample. I went to the drug store and bought a cake of Cutlcura Soap and some Cutlcura Ointment and I found the pimples were drying out. In two months I was well.” (Signed) Chas. J. Peck, May 7, 1914. Cutlcura Soap and Ointment sold throughout the world. Sample of each free,with 32-p. Skin Book. Address postcard “Cutlcura, Dept. L, Boston.”— Adv.

A Good Shot.

A San Franciscan, who has been hunting in the vicinity of Lake Tahoe without bagging any game, came upon a mountaineer who was feeding a caged wildcat he had caught the day before. much will you take for that beast?” he asked. The captor said $5 and the money was paid over. “Now,*’ said the Nimrod, “tie one end of a strong cord to that tree and another to the cat’s neck, and then open the door of the cage." This was finally accomplished and the fierce animal stood straining at its tether. The’ sportsman, who was watching the exercises from the Interior of the cabin, leveled his rifle across the window sill, took careful aim and blazed away. The wildcat gave a, joyful yell and disappeared in the forest The bullet had cut the rope.

Forgetful Vacationist.

The family had gone off for their holiday in a taxi. Twenty minutes later the taxi snorted back up the road. “Forgotten the tickets?” cried a neighbor. “No,” said the irate householder, “but my wife’s just remembered that she’s left a kettle boiling on the gas stove.” He dived into the house, and came back the next moment wi|h a ghastly calm on his face. “All right now?” said the neighbor cheerily. ~ "Right! I’d forgotten that I’d turned the gas off at the meter—and now we’ve two hours and a half to wait for the next train."

All Right With Him.

An applicant for appointment to the position of deputy marshal for one of the counties of Southwest Virginis asked a citizen of that county to indorse his recommendation. The man took the paper, glanced over it, then wrote something and handed it back. The applicant read: “Waiving the language of the indorsement above, I will say that if the appointive board sees fit to appoint Mr. Blank as deputy marshal for this county it will be perfectly agreeable with me—l’m going to locate in Kentucky.”—National Food Magazine.

Important to Mothers

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The Result.

"Did the doctor limit you to any’ particular diet?" "No, but his bill did." > T” It’s when it is too hotheaded that love is apt to grow cold.

Ct M A Oraoelafed Eyelids, ■ - V < > rye Ke«efy. No Smarting, just Eye Comfort. At Your Druggist’s 50c per Bottle. MsriaeEyt Salvein Tubes2sc.ForßeekeltbeEycfrtomk Druggists or Narine Eye Bawdy Ce., Okige

One Too Many.

The Tons was rolling up Fifth avenue In a heavy groundswell, on a murky night. Perhaps It was only that the chauffeur and conductor were both sleepy, or maybe it was only the mugginess that deceived them. On the corner at Thirty-fifth street stood, waiting to cross, a belated delivery boy, holding erect by the waist a dressmaker’s dress form. The chauffeur thought he detected a fare, and slowed his craft in' to the curb. The conductor looked out through the fog, shook his head, and rang the bell to go ahead. / “Room for one only,” he said, and the ’bus rolled on. —New York Even- , ing Post.

Easily Classified.

Hemmandhaw, who was writing a letter, looked* up to inquire: “Is it ever permissible to apply gender to volcanoes#’ “I don’t know,” Mrs. Hemmandhaw returned, “but if it is they are surely masculine. “Why?” “Because they sputter, grumble and smoke.”

Close Quarters.

Janitor—This Is the vacant suite, sir. ( . Pompous Party—My good fellow, I said apartments, not compartments.

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