Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 280, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 November 1914 — Page 2

A NEW TYPE OF GIRL

By LAURA KIRKMAN.

■<Copvri«ht. IM4, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Kenneth Grey winced as he passed a group of young people on his way to grayer meeting, He knew that their amused eyes were on his highly polished shoes, which shone brightly in the glare of the street light. “Spotless,” he heard Jessie Dean giggle as he passed. “He’d say ‘immaculate,’ ” corrected another voice, mockingly. Kenneth was glad when he reached the church. Inside its solemn walls he was able to forget the derision that stung him on every side. For, although he had always known himself to be an outsider in Greenville Center, he had never become accustomed to the spirit of mockery with which he was treated by the town’s young people. Although he was their own age, he had not a friend among them. “Sissy Grey,” he had been ever since he could remember. On this particular night he entered the church as he had done a thousand times before —went into his pew, bowed his head a moment, then raised his eyes to give one sweeping glance around the chufth. But there the similarity to his conduct on other nights stopped. His sweeping glance terminated on the slim hand of a yodhg girl sitting in the pew in front of him and he caught his breath. The hand was manicured! Kenneth stared at the strange girl. She and he were the only two persons in Greenville Center with manicured hands. He felt almost relationship for her. “Who is she?” he asked himself repeatedly. “Is she «a summer guest, or la'she some one’s city relative?” At length he decided that she was a summer guest. He had heard that old Mrs. Hartwell intended advertising for some this summer. Little did he hear of that sermon. He sat through the'evening as though spellbound. Here, before him’, was a new type of girl—a girl who would not —wotild never think of laughing at a man whose nails were manicured. “Would she laugh at me for picking and choosing my words?” he wondered, recalling the myriads of smiles that hjs vocabulary had called forth. But this question he had no way of answering. He could merely sit and look at the back of her pretty head until the meeting was over. Then he followed her home. She did come from old Mrs. Hartweirs. She was undoubtedly a summer guest. As the girl turned up the walk, and he wandered on, thinking about her, he saw that Bob Granville was coming toward him. Turning, when they had passed, he saw that the fellow turned in at Mrs. Hartwell’s gate. Mrs. Hartwell was a distant relative of Bob. Not for years had he been to see her. Kenneth halted in the shadow of an elm tree and listened. Plainly, he heard BoJJ’s voice ring out: “Good evening, Aunt Hanna!” “Aunt Hanna!” repeated Kenneth, indignantly. “As if he ever called her that before! He’s just trying to make friends with that girl. He thinks she’ll go around with him just because he has money—the way all the other girls do. Well, she’s not a Greenville Center girl. One glance at his grimy fingernails will be enough for her.” It was a relief to him to see/ as the week flew by, that although Bob Granville called on the summer girl every night she never went out with him. “She can’t do any more than be polite to him when he calls,” he told himself, hopefully. “It’s me she’ll go out with —when Lmeet her!” And at last he did meet her. It was at a church social. Quite frankly he went up to old Mrs. Hartwell and asked her if the young lady would object to meeting him. As he made the formal request he heard one of the town boys giggle and repeat his words to one or two of the girls. “Now, we’ll see Sissy Grey make an impression—with his fingernails," came in loud tones, just as Mrs. Hartwell presented him to the girl. The girl heard. She looked behind her in surprise. , Then, casting a swift glance at Kenneth’s hands, a light of understanding broke over her face; she had grasped that his nickname was “Sissy.” After a few hurried and nervous words, Kenneth excused himself and left the girl. He walked swiftly from t-he grounds. Up the street he flew. Blinding tears stung his eyes. -The girl had been prejudiced against him before she had had a chance to judge of him. For in that light of understanding that had passed over her face he thought that he had seen as well a shadow of derision. Perhaps she was amused to see the hands of a country • boy manicured. Perhaps he had not taught himself in the right way; he had only had directions from a magazine to follow. Or perhaps—he stood still on the sidewalk —perhaps the polish on his nails was ridiculously bright. He had noticed the polish ou the girl's nails was decidedly duller. Had this been oversight or intention? After this he kept away from those places which the girl frequented. He felt 111 at ease in her presence. If she had noticed his difference from the other town men naturally It would not have been so bad —even if that difference were overdone. Bitt now that her attention had been called to It—now that she was watching for it! The last possibility of their ever be-

coming friends was shattered when Letty Gleason made friends with her. Letty was Kenneth's worst'enemy. “What fun she’ll have telling the girl how diligently I practice on the piano!” he thought bitterly. That story—a true one —was one of Letty’s best pieces of evidence against him. , For a time he let his piano go untouched. He preferred to play in the winter—when the- windows could be down. In Greenville Center it was a disgrace for a man to have an accomplishment of this sort. Then, one night, he flew to the old friendly piano, in spite of the fact that the window was open. This was the night of the entertainment in the town. hall. Under other conditions, not for anything would he have missed the entertainment. But —she would be there. , For by this time he had grown to avoid her for other reasons than reasons of sensitiveness; he had grown to love her. Her pretty face and dark hair haunted him. Her shell-like fingers, «o unlike any other girl’s he had ever seen, seemed to be always in his sight. She seemed to him a fairy thing—a girl not for such a man as he. “Tiiat’s why she hasn’t gone out with Bob Granville, or any of the rest,” he realized, sensibly. “She’s too good for us. She is here only for a rest.” Of late he had worn a duller polish on his nails. Now, as his hands trailed over the piano keys they looked dess garish—more as though they might have belonged to a cultured man of the world. He played softly, not over happily. He wa q thinking of what he might have made \of himself if he had had better advantages. “Such a woman as she couldn’t laugh at —a faultlessly dressed and kept man,” he thought, with a little twist of the mouth. ’ Then he started. He was conscious that some one else was in the room. Turning quickly he was amazed to find—The Girl! The girl stepped forward. “I couldn’t bear to stop you—it was so beautiful,” she said in a low, musical voice. “So I came right in. I hope you’ll excuse me—l know you so slightly—but some one told me that you own the “Fifth Chopin Sonata,” and that’s the one I’m to play to night in the town hall —and I forgot to bring mine with me in my trunk.” He sprang to the piano. He found the piece of music. Eagerly, inarticulately he offered it to her. “If there’s any other iliece I could lend you?” he faltered, eagerly. Through the dim light the girl’s face shone sweetly, ethereally. One fine, delicately kept hand toyed with the sheet of music." “There’s - nothing you could lend me,” she answered, “but there is something you could do for could come to the hall and turn my music as I play; you see, no one else knows enough about it to do that.” He never could remember, afterward, how he found his hat and asked her if he might- not escort her there. Not even long after—when he had won her.

ALL EYES ON THE PUPPY

Baby Decidedly Second Choice in the Attentions of Crowd of Men on the Street Car. A man will pass a dozen baby carriages in the street without so much as a glance at the little faces under the hoods, but if a stray puppy waddles along, indulging in the leading puppy, sport of trying to make its back legs go faster than its front ones, he acts differently. Seldom is he so busy that he can’t bestow a pat on its head, and if he. has the time, as likely as not he will stoop and ask the puppy how he is feeling. The other day a woman was seen to enter a street car with a small Boston terrier under her arm. The car was packed, but she might have had any one of a half dozen seats. The men about her forgot their newspapers, and the puppy claimed every eye. An elderly man standing in front of her chucked the puppy under the chin and addressed him familiarly as Mike. Mike opened his mouth and displayed unmistakable signs of a desire to play with the elderly man’s finger, and the elderly man was so obliging that when he hurriedly left the car he was heard to say that he had gone two streets beyond his stop. It is probable that he could not have told whether Mike’s guardian wore a sunbonnet or the latest hat, nor could the other men who watched him play with the puppy. It is certain, however, that a blue-eyed baby across the aisle gurgled in vain, for not a masculine glance was directed toward it.

Something of the Sort.

“I see you have buckwheat for pancakes, ” she said to the grocer. “Yes’m.” “My husband was saying this morning that we ought to have some.” “Just so, ma’am.” “It ought to have maple molasses to go with them, hadn’t it?” “To be sure." “And you have got some just fresh from the trees?” “I couldn’t say that, ma’am.” “But isn’t it the season when they make it?” •> “It is and it isn’t They make one kind of maple sugar up in New England from the trees in the spring, and another kind frqm sorghum in New Jersey in the fall. You are too late for the spring brand, and too early for the fall kind, but you will find our dill pickles an excellent substitute for the interval." The woman thought it over and th«w. took a quart of vinegar.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER, IND.

FOOTBALL GAME IS MORE SPECTACULAR

Coach Alonzo Stagg of Chicago University.

Sometimes, while watching a college football game, one can’t help going back and wishing the old-style stuff was in vtfgue. With no intention of throwing a harpoon at the modern system, the man’s-sized article was the kind to stir the blood, writes Malcolm Mac Lean in Chicago Evening Post. There were linesmen then, boys—linesmen who were heroes. Instead of being skilled in basketball tactics they had to have Spartan blood. Let us go back to the old YalePrinceton clash. Yale would kick off to the ten-yard line. The quarterback would gather the ball to his chest. Ten mates would hasten to hie side. In a flash a flying wedge was formed —a powerful stalwart at the front, two wings protecting the runner and the man with the ball crowded into the midst. Down the field would thunder this V-shaped phalanx, arms locked and jaws set. Pudge Heffelflnger, leaping headlong and with disdain of sudden death, would hit the wedge with a smash. Men would tumble, the runner would be nailed with a crash. The shock was terrific. Later on came the tackles and guards back. With a Truxton Hare to lead the* Pennsylvania smash it was a life-sized job to stop the assault. . Those were the days when a linesman would distinguish himself. Jake

Boston Signs Twin Players.

Joe and Maurice Shannon, twin brothers, who played with an Ohio college team this year, have been drafted by the Boston Red Sox from the Asbury Park team of the Atlantic league. The brothers played under the name of O’Brien. Joe played left field on the college team, while Maury.was the shortstop. Joe, who was a sensational fielder, took a liking to first base and developed well in that position for the Asbury Park team.

ZBYSZKO IS NOW FIGHTING

Wonderful Wrestler Joins Austrian Army as Second LieutenantWar Changed His Plans. / Stanislaus Zbyszko, the wonderful wrestler, is now fighting under the

Stanislaus Zbyszko.

Austrian flag as a second lleutenaht. Zbyszko intended to take part in the mat tournament in St. Petersburg, but the outbreak of the war changed his plana

Stahl of Illinois, Curtis of Michigan, Schacht of Minnesota, Curtis of Wisconsin, Perry of Chicago—the list is a long one., Where the mass plays were the heaviest these wonderful, courageous linesmen would be found fighting, pulling, shoving to the last ounce of strength. : " Their object wasn’t to block a possible forward pass; it was to smash, crush and otherwise demolish a certain mass formation. They had to check a fearful interference and get the man. They have line plays today. Yes, indeed. . But they are trifles aS compared to the former assaults. It was no cinch to tackle a runner who was being pulled along by a couple of huskies and shoved by three or four others. Weak hearts had no business in a line then. As has been stated some million times, the game of today is more spectacular. A prettily executed, gentlemanly,’ orderly forward pass, with a couple of opponents leaping in the air to stop it, is thrilling.' It is scientific. It is brilliant. It is strategic. Yet the old cry of second down, two yards to gain, and the shock of two all-steel locomotives meeting head on have passed. A new order rules. And so have the great linesmen gone. They are not needed like they were in th-j cave-dweUipg days.

GOSSIP AMONG SPORTS

Eastern college oarsmen are having fall workouts. Chief Albert Bender confesses to thirty-one years. > • • * Princeton university will construct a $25,000 track house. • • • Colin Bell, the Australian heavyweight, is -a sterling track athlete and also a fine bike rider. • * * Adrian Hogan, one of the best middleweights in France, was seriously wounded in the battle at Mons. ♦ • * Higginbotham, the old University of Texas end, is making a good showing at left end on the Yale varsity team. ■' • • • Coach Haughton- sprung a surprise at Cambridge when he shifted Ernie Soucy, the veteran varsity center, to right end. ♦ • « Sol Metzgar, Penn’s 1903 football captain, is coaching West Virginia university and not West Virginia Wesleyan as was reported. • * ♦ Battling Levinsky gave Jim Flynn an artistic trouncing in a ten-round bout that went the limit at the Broadway A. C. of Brooklyn. J - Truly war must be all that—the English soldiers play football for recreation between battles. Are there no Eichenlaubs in Germany? Every time one thinks of George Stallings coming back inte die American league as part owner tone has a vision of a fat man growing apoplectic.

Home of the Shetland Pony

THE best and most aristocratic families in London and New York have suddenly revived the old fashion of training their children on Shetland ponies, writes A. Elmslle Crabbe, in the Philadelphia Record. The shipment of these sturdy little animals for America is going up by leaps and bounds, and wherever you go amongst the smart set in England you will now see these handsome little beasts carrying the children of the household. In fact, if you really want .to be in the newest fashion and to give children the time of their lives you must have a string of Shetland ponies in your stables. Experts say Shetlands teach children self-reliance and domination and set off the natural beauties of the girls as they canter through the parks like no other ponies on earth. Shetland ponies, of course, are to some people merely a general name for a small type of pony, but this is a mistake. These small animals are bred with as much care in the Shetland islands as pheasants- are bred and reared in cover* 3 in England and other sporting countries. The Shetland islands themselves are composed of some thirty or forty small islands and three or four larger ones. The largest, called the “Mainland,” is a bleak, hilly island starting at the peninsula with Sumburgh Head as its commencement and ending at Unst, a.whale fishers’ port, the first they totrch on British soil. Opposite Lerwick, the capital of the Islands, lies Bressay, one of the larger islands, and the center of the ponybreeding industry. Here they are reared and eventually exported to the United States and to Scotland, England and other countries as required. A small, pure-bred specimen is somewhat valuable, fetching at the farm S2OO or $250. Larger ones are less costly and only make about $25. Ponies Dislike Strangers. These animals are usually dark brown, shaggy little beasts with long

SHETLAND PONIES OF BRESSAY

black manes. Their temper is by some called playful, but vindictive would be more applicable. While walking along one of the roads near Lerwick I had to run to shelter, as one of these charming animals made a dead set at me with ears back and teeth showing. I was informed that that is their usual reception- of a stranger. They are owned by nearly everyone on the mainland, and act as draft horses, being particularly strong. As a rule they are unshod. To get to this interesting series of islands I took a boat from Limehouse dock, London, and in 36 hours arrived in Aberdeen. From thence I went by another steamer for 18 hourfc to Lerwick, the capital of the Shetlands. Before actually arriving at Lerwick, early travelers who wish to enjoy magnificent rock scenery have enough and to spare, for on sighting Sumburgh head, the most southerly point of the mainland, the eyes are literally fascinated by that headland surmounted by a magnificent lighthouse. The steamer follows this peninsula the whole way up—a distance of some thirty miles. Each mile presents new and delightful rock scenes unsurpassed on that southern coast. In Lerwick Harbor. Eventually I arrived in Lerwick harbor, which, by the way, is one of the best natural harbors in the United Kingdom. It is protected at its outlet by the Island Bressay, six miles in length, which is the one already mentioned as the center of the pony industry. This harbor is capable of 'sheltering the entire British fleet, and is used by the admiralty as a base during the maneuvers. Lerwick is a quaint town, nestling as it does round the harbor, with a background of heather-covered hills. The town is some three hundred years old, but contains few of the old horses, although the principal street —Commercial street —is a remnant of the old order of things, inasmuch as it is merely’ an irregularly winding alley,

about thirty feet wide, paved throughout with slabs of stone, there being no distinction between roadway and sidewalk. A store here-and there encroaches on the street, which gives one the impression, when walking along it for the first time, that this must be a blind alley. On coming to the supposed terminus, however, one finds there is a way round and that tile street meanders on. f The peasant population of the islands is extremely interesting. The male portion is mostly devoted to fishing and pony rearing. The female element stays at home, cures the fish, and, when that is done, carries peat, which is the only fuel used, in “creels,” slung on the back. While walking outside the town you see a regular procession of women coming and going, somewhat like ants moving their eggs.' They are all knitting as hard as they ■ can, never looking at" their work. The finished portion of the shawl is wound round their waist, leaving just enough free to work with. These are eventually taken to the stores and exchanged for the necessities of life. Barter is th/ usual mode of business among the poorer class. These people wear an extraordinary kind of shoe which a piece of untanned cowhide, the hairy side being outermost. I believe these rivelins are quite peculiar to the Shetlands. The ponies' are seen roaming about the hillsides quite uncared for, and seemingly wild, although they belong to the peasantry; these ponies, of course, are the larger and less expensive variety. Island Without Trees. There is one distinctive peculiarity of all' these islands and that is, that there are absolutely no trees of any description growing. The inhabitants aver that they would spoil the view. I took a small boat—which plies as often as required—across the harbor to Bressay,. and by the courtesy of the proprietor looked over the pony farm. (There were ponies of all ages and

sizes, the being the size of a large St. Bernard dog, and the foala were reminiscent of chamois. While on Bressay I also walked to the Orkneyman’s cave, which is situated at the extreme end of the island, with the Giant’s leg to guard the entrance —a small yacht can easily sail between rocks. Besides Lerwick, the capital, there is only one other town of any size, that being Schlloway. It Is seven miles from Lerwick across the peninsula and was the harbor town of Tingwall, the old capital of the islands. It boasts a castle which was built in 1640 and inhabitated by Patrick Stewart, then governor of the islands. He was- a particularly brutal and inhuman man, for there still remains a ring on one of the walls, through which a rope was run, to which he hanged a great numbe/of the Inhabitants for very trivial offenses, or none at all sometimes, so the legend goes, other than refusing to pay him unlawful tribute. These executions were of dally occurrence, and-matters came to such a pitch that petitions were sent* to parliament, which caused him to be called to Edinburgh, where an inquiry was held. Ultimately he was hanged. His memory was so odious that the, people destroyed the castle, and now all that remains are the four walls and the keep.

A Rest.

Senator Henry Cabo\ Lodge wan condemning, kt a dinner in Boston, the light, vacuous quality of the magazine of the day. “I know a doctor,” said Senator Lodge, “who was consulted by a famous novelist The novelist, it turned out, had brain fag. So the doctor said to him: / ' “'I prescribe for you complete, absolute repose, both mental and physical. Go off somewhere by the sea, t loaf on the sand, and, to rest youri mind, write a series of ten or twelvei magazine st tries.* ”