Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 January 1915 — Page 3

The Goveror's Lady A Novelizion of Alice Brad's Play

Illustrations from Photographs of the Sji Production

SYNOPSIS. Daniel Slade suddenly advances from a penniless miner to a millionaire and becomes a power In the political and business world. He has his eye on the governor's chair. His simple, home-loving wife falls to rise to the new conditions/ Slade meets Katherine, daughter of Senator Strickland, and sees inner all that Mary . to not. CHAPTER It—Continued. “Oh, I like Washington,” she said, bringing herself back to .the conversation with difficulty. ‘Her father, noticing her abstrac- • tlon, remarked Indulgently t “She likes Slade. She likes the Bast, hut she doesn’t tell it to everybody on account of father’s votes. Now, Slade and I love our western city, eh, Slade?”

"Well,” with some reluctance, “It’s a good starting point,” Slade admitted. “Ah!” Katherine exclaimed, now thoroughly herself again. “There’s a man fpr you! He’s not going to let a town stand In his way. Mr. Slade, ‘this is father’s Waterloo. He’s been a great disappointment to me. That’s the worst of parents. We children never know how they're going to turn out If father had only listened to me it. would have been Washington for him—Washington for me. But be wouldn’t cross the Delaware. He wouldn’t leave the Weet. If there’d only been a drop of Napoleon in father,” she concluded with a sudden burst of vehemence. “Napoleon!” repeated the senator. “Yes, Napoleon. He got what he wanted, and nothing ever stood in his path. I just love the way he rode over poor old Josephine’s heart don’t yon?"—end she turned to Slade. “But he was right!” she continued, earnestly, as if she were making a plea for something that lay very close to her own heart "Why should we let anyone hold us hack? I wouldn’t But mother didn't want to leave the West so father stuck to his town and his friends and his state. Now he stands in the background and boosts other men politically. “He wants to boost you,” she added, suddenly. “Letting out secrets,” her father accused. playfully. But Katherine was never more serious. "You’re his dark horse," ahe persisted. "You’re a lucky man, senator," Blade broke in, aa he watched Katherine admiringly. "You’re.’* lucky man to have a charming young woman behind you in the race.” “That’s all we women are for,” answered Katherine, bitterly, “standing behind some man and watching him do things.” "Why, child alive, you do things yourself," the senator remonstrated. “She makes busts, Blade—heads. Done some big guns in Europe.” Katherine sighed and leaned back wearily in her chair. "Oh, In my feminine way, I model,” she admitted. "But If there'd been one drop of Napoleon in father I shouldn’t have had to toll back on molding clay. I should have been molding,” she hesitated, and then finished daringly, “opinions and people.”

CHAPTER 111. . - v .:' ' . * * ,»V'“ Just how much more freely Kath- : erine might have revealed her alma and inspirations, Slade could not know, for at that moment the butler appeared and engaged his attention. As the man withdrew, Slade-spread ,» wide his arms and announced grandiloquently: “The gentleman of ihe water-front crowd, if you please. Mr. Wesley Merritt, the gentleman who wasn’t going to darken my door, Is here!” * He broke off with a loud, mirthless laugh. As well as any man who ever lived, he liked to feel the grip of his Own power. He had come to the point where It was genuine satisfaction to humble men and conquer things. “Wesley Merritt!" the senator was almost too surprised for speech. “After his abuse of you in the paper today—. And Hunt! How did you do ltf" “This is the sort of thing I like," broke in Katherine, eagerly. "Oh, it’s no exciting," she declared, her eyes glowing with eagerness and animation. “Oh, Mr.. Slade, how did yon make them kow-tow V T i Slade’e reply was prevented by the brusque, excited entrance of Merritt and Hunt The. pair, angry and belligerent, strode into the room without a word. Merritt, small, wiry) energetic, was In the lead, followed closely by his shadow and echo. Hunt. “Is ft true?" he demanded angrily, before lie realised that Slade was not alone. “How do you do, senator — Miss Strickland!“ he exclaimfed. in. surprise. “Lovely home you have, Mr. Blade," ha added, frying to adjust himself to the scene he had not expected. '• "An astonishing rumor has reached us, Mr. Slade," he finally declared, getting down to the business of his invasion. 'lt concerns you, senator, i It concerns every public-spirited man In the city-' Is It true, Slade, that you have bought up our entire water front on which residences—our old itmiM—the mansions of the city face, . .. -,, '' — ; --'s '.

By GERTRUDE STEVENDN

and that you fld btildlng factories there?” “Why, yes,#*!* Admitted, with maddening cws“What?” Striked almost shouted, completely astiftted. “But —but itwt be done,” Merritt was so excitedthat he stuttered his word* . is “It can’t echoed Hunt. He was well paid nbelus echo. “Our best {Me live there,” protested MerritCs i “I live therelunt added, with accumulated emfftis“All of us,” Kitt continued, “take pride In the wf alopg the water front. It’s dapble. Why, out of common dsceigE min— What do you' want of fa#es, way ?” he demanded, comply angered and out of patience, i Slade’s volcw&s almost a drawl, it was so low-«bed and so provokingly calm. didn’t you and'your associates pro»your holdings?” he inquired. I i;

“Kow’d we tv a man with millions would a 1 along and buy up the whole bes Merritt’s wrath was* getting b( ed the control that Katherine's senpe demanded. “Blade, If you >ersist in this,” he thundered, “I’n ,>lng to take off my hit b c My paper has an eaorinous outsfcclrculation, and I’ll baste you oncerary day. If you propose running fjteoveraor, you won’t get one vote Uhjur own town. And in one month, ness, yorj’ll find San Francisco has ai-cgeous climate.’’ Slade was urfeoirbed by Merritt’s threats or Metmi balldosing. “All Might, Merrittfn advised, good-na-turedly, “go ju with your paper, I’ll take my cAttes.” “You will, yMerritt’s tone was ominous. "Wm soijt of factories are you going to “Well,” coolly, *1 was thinking of puttqrupglue factories!" “Glue!” Thdsie word jumped from everyone’s me 1 at ones. “Glue!” they all repea , and looked at each other in const j&tion. “The h—l y< jay,” then remembering himself. * |eg your pardon, Miss Strickland.” 1 “It can’t be be,” Merritt went on. “You cah’t bu glue factories here,” and he emphi «<f every word with an angry sbak jt his finger. • “By God, yq >” He broke o] h he saw Bob Hayes stride into the pm. Hayes, as Slade’s lawyer and al ut a member of the family, bad th iptree to the house at all times. W "Here’s my «yer,” remarked Slade, dryry, “ask him, “Of course St-ao be done,” Hayes Informed them! cnvlneingly. "It’s perfectly leglti magi’

Then, as if i h dismiss a perfectly obvious subjecLke turned to the girl, who had been flying every point that Slade had Katherine’s with warm welcome. It bfarae first time she had seen Haya since she had returned. He wasjhe man she had once wanted, to many, once before her father had gtirth her the choice of Hayes or a finjshing school in Paris and a tour ofßifope. Now she greeted him with cordial friendship, but with none of the swept tenderness he might have her. Once she had looked up ipj» his eyes and thought him -a god. Nd|, her eyes blinded by the glare of auction, she saw only a good looking dip, a struggling lawyer, a man made any particular mark it the world. She returned .. Hayes’ iburning, penetrating gaze with cool, iiruffled frankness. In another moment she, had turned from him and was earnestly watching Slade, listening to his every word with eager intentttees. “You see, I’ula very simple sort of fellow,” Slade uks saying, "don’t drink —don’t smoke-»Mlon't keep yachts or horßee, don’t ksfp wo—" he stopped in his oft-repeatedforraula as he temembered Katherine's presence, “don’t keep horses, so 1 must do something, as I was saying to Mrs. Slade today. I don’t want to bother my neighbors, so I'll build high chimneys, so the smoke won’t trouble you much. I’m going into the glue business. That is.

of course,” and he paused and surveyed the group about him with a complacent elevation of bis eyebrows, “that Is, unless you gentlemen can keep me busy in some other way. I’m a very active man." Katherine leaned forward with tense expression to see how the man’s opponents ' would. take his game. The senator was smiling, Merritt tapping his foot restlessly. "Well, -boys, it looks ss though he had us—strong?" Strickland broke the silence. “Gluet~Whew!" "Are we going .to be had T" demanded Merritt, testily, “are we going to stand for this holdup?” and ha turned disgustedly toward the door. "Don’t yob thluk we’d] better keep Mr. Slade busy id pome other way/' Strickland repeated. , - “I don't/* Merritt flung back over his shohlder as he left the room, fol-. lower s* usual, by Hunt 1 - Merritt’s hasty departure w»s the signal for Katherine to adjust her wraps sad remark: "We must be late

THE EVENING BBPCBUCAN, RENSSELAER, INI).

there’s no foreigner on the scene, to there. Katherine r "Boh,” Katherine’* voloe wwi sweet but firm. “I don’t think I shall aver marry now—” “Oh, nonsense,” he protested. “No,” even more positively. "The more I see of men—but what’s the use? There never was but one man 1 could have got on with, and I didn’t happen to . live in his time.” “Who was the boy?" Hayes asked, lightly. “Strange,” Katherine replied, pensively, “I’ve just been talking about him—Napoleon Bonaparte.” "Oh, Lord —that fellow.’’' Hayes was much relieved. “Can I have tomorrow evening?" “Yes —If you—yes—tomorrow evening, Bob.” ~ Her voice lingered a bit on the Bob, and with quick Impulsiveness Hayes caught her hand and kissed It. In another minute she had turned to Slade. “Oh, Mr. Slade, won’t you let me make a head of you?” "A head of me?” Slade repeated In surprise. "Think It over,” Katherine suggested, as she and her father went out, leaving Hayes and Slade watching her proud, graceful figure until At disappeared from view. Slade looked critically at Hayes for a moment or two after the girl had gone. “Oh, now I remember,” he suddenly exclaimed. "You’re the chap ehe gave up for Paris a long time ago?” “When she was twenty-one and I was twenty-four and six feet one inch of a western lawyer, just out of the woods. How does Mrs. Slade take to this governorship business?” he finished, abruptly. “She doesn’t take to it" Slade’s voice was hard. "I was afraid she wouldn’t” “Well, nobody’s going to stand in my way." A malignant light showed in his eyes. "My boy, I’m out to win.” In spite of the fact that he was In full evening attire, he thrust his hands into his pockets and almost strutted about the room. “I outgeneraled that crowd here tonight. By God, I did! Do you know— 7* He paused In hla walk and looked down oh Hayes’ six feet sprawled over one of the brocaded chairs —“there’s just a little drop of that fellow—Napoleon Bonaparte—ln me!” * “Napoleon Bonaparte got on by leaving a woman behind,” Hayes returned, seriously, refusing to enter Into Slade’s spirit of self-satisfied good humor. “You mind your own d—n business, Bob,” Slade turned on him, suddenly. “All right—l'm off to the opera. I only meant that Napoleon was a bad boy for you to follow, because he treated his first wife like a dirty dishrag. That’s why I’m glad that second little Austrian hussy paid him back. That’s all. I love Mrs. Slade. When I was sick with fever in your mining camp she was a mother to me.” “Don’t forget that I made you," Slade reminded him. “I,” and he tapped hiß chest, “I gave you your chance.” "1 don’t. All the same I’d hate to see you elected, because of Mrs. Slade. It- seems to be the regular thing, becoming universal, for a very successful man to leave home the minute he’s on his feet. Good night." , "One minute, Bob. You’ve given ms a lot of good advice. I’ll give you some. Are you.in love with that girl?” “Yes," Hayes grunted; “good night Is that all?” “No;” Slade paused, watching Hayes through nafrowed eyelids. "That girl needs a large pie with every one of her fingers in it. Bob, I’m sorry for you. Your pie isn’t big enough.” “Well l —it’s my pie. Good night,* and be was gone. After Hayes had gone, Slade sat, hla arms resting oh the table, staring into space. Every now and then the corners of his mouth came, down and his eyes narrowed. He was thinking of Katherine Strickland and Hayes. That woman for Hayes! Hayes must be a presumptuous pup to ever- think of winning that queen. Such women were meant for the kings of the earth —not for their hirelings. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

NEW DISCOVERY ABOUT ANTS

Scientist Asserts That the Insects Have a Regular Form of Salutation Among Themselvoa. Ants have long been known for their excessive industry, but from a curious communication which has just ap peered they seem to have surpassed all other insects by organizing an elaborate system of signaling. Professor Bugnlon, who has recently investigated the habits of the white ant. reports that the "soldiers” of that species give warnings or encouraging signals by knocking with their jaws upon dry leaves, thereby emitting a crackling sound. Placing some of these ants on a big plate and covering it with paper, be found that the “soldiers” among the anU responded to his taps with a rustling, crackling sound. Moreover, apart from this audible signaling, there appears to be some inaudible form of signal, for the prolessor asserts that the “soldier” ants salute the worker ants. To do this, ‘the tpsect stands firmly on Jts tegs with the head raised and the body slightly oblique, and shakes Itself for an instant with a convulsive shudder. r This seems t» mean some thing." . K t t; - • , If you want It to be a sunny work stop wearing a tdoud on your brow.-’ I ,**** Times-Union.

WAR DRAMA AT SEA

Remarkable Letter From a French Naval Officer. Pictures a Night of Tense Watching In the Dark-—ls Broken by the Discovery and Destruction of a Torpedo Boat. Paris. —There has come to me, writes Paul Scott Mowrer in the Chicago- News, a remarkable letter from a naval officer, who is cruising with the French fleet in the Adriatic, hunt* tag the Austrian foe. It gives a vivid picture of the solitary drama of war at sea. Here it is: “It is a black night Thb wind is terrible, the swell monstrous. All lights are out Darker than the night without a single noise aboard, the' Shipß, one behind the other, watch upon the sea that nothing may pass. Ten miles to the north, ten miles to the south, they are holding their blind course. All seems to sleep.

“Our lookouts at bow and stem, lost In shadow, are roiling and pitching like phantoms, while not a single sound breaks the Incomprehensible silence. But the cannon are ready. There Is a man behind each loaded piece, his finger on the trigger, never closing his eyes from the moment he goes on duty to the moment of his relief. Aloft, the searchlights, too, are ready at touch of a button to blaze forth, to seek out, to harass. And on the bridge, the officer on whom depends a thousand lives, the officer of the watch, alone before God, his eyes on his glass, peers for hours and hours out into the black night and the swell. There must be no failing now of sight or mind or decision. That moment of falling might be the very one in which the enemy, crouching betweed two waves, launohed a torpedo or sowed a sinking mine. “For an, instant in the unreal distance, great paint brushes of light appear. They grope across the sky mill sea, stop suddenly, and the wind brings the sound of a storm of shells. Then no more. Lights and cannon cease. The night, the swell, the silence. But the heart beats faster. Out there, ’they’ are roving. Perhaps presently it will be my turn. I want to smash the lenses of the glass and illuminate the whole stretch of ocean. Which way will they come? Suddenly something white shines on a crest, like the mustache of foam under a bow. "‘On guard! Fifteen hundred yards! Eighty degrees to starboard! Light searchlights! More to the left! Leeway fifty-eight! Fire! “All the crouching shadows leap asunder. In the bright sheaf of light is a pallid specter With three or four smokestacks which plunges like a greyhound over the foam. Fifteen cannon at once are spitting ceaselessly. Our phantom ship has hfecome a volcano. “ ’More in the right! A thousand yards!’ "The hostile torpedo boat disappear? In an aureole of blows, behind fountains -of water, very white under the livid electricity. But still on it comes, bringing death. “ ‘Eight hundred yards!’ "The blows are falling nearer to It. They make a wall ot water .and iron. In the aureole of spray appears something red, black, yellow, like a hit in the eye. A shell has struck the belly of the torpedo boat and It has blown up. '“Cease fire! Searchlights follow to the end!' ? “We go to look, to pick np the dead and the wounded. Nothing is left—hardly a few splinters of wood. ’“Lights out!’ “We return to our course, to the watch, the silence, the obscurity. The men who serve the guns lie down. The gunners stand and wait. The officer of the watch, who has saved a thousand lives, once more stares searchlngly into the dangerous darkness. The boat rolls pitches. It is cold and gloomy. But the sea is l a little freer and France better protected.”

ON OUTPOST DUTY

• Skirmisher of the French army In soften during outpost engagement near Bixmude. ** H

Dog Oats Help for Master.

Paris.—A .fox terrier belonging to ft French reservist called to the front followed its owner to the fighting line and remained With him til] he fell wounded In the battle of the Marne. The faithful animal then managed Jby some means tc attract the attention of the ambulance men tnd led them to

AMBULANCE CORPS WORKING AT THE FRONT

French ambulance corps removing the wounded from the battlefield along the Yser during a lull In the terrific fighting.

PENS VIVID CLASSIC

Unknown Stretcher Bearer Describes Horror of Horrors. Farmhouse, the Refuge of Wounded and Dying, Is Bombarded by Artillery Ghastly the Scenes That Ensue. London.—The Chronicle publishes the following account of the bombardment of a farmhouse, situated between the French and German lines and temporarily a refuge for the wounded. The article is a translation from the notes of a French corporal stretcherbearer. The Paris Temps says the wtirk of the unknown author may be compared with the most striking pages of some Russian writers: “We now heard the whis-x-s that those who have once heard can never forget. The shell was coming straight toward us. We fell fiat, In the twinkling of an eye, our noses to the ground. Happy he who finds a drain or ditch at such a moment Yet we had time to ask ourselves whether it would pass over or catch us in this ridiculous position; and 1 saw the past and the ftfture. “We got up, muddy and peevish. A faint smell of dynamite filled the air. We passed through the gateway- The yard, surrounded on three sides by the farmhouse and servants' quarters, was quiet and trim. “We entered the kitchen and three ground floor rooms were full of wounded —French and German. Many of the unfortunates, lying on the bloodmarked Straw, had wounds. A soldier asks for a drink; as he rises, with hand stretched out for the glass of water, a bullet comes through the window and strikes him full in the heart. The poor fellow sinks without a sigh. “Most of the wounded are taken away In a lull of the' combat. It is three o’clock in the afternoon. Firing recommences, more violent than ever. The shells whistle ceaselessly. An adjutant, terribly wounded, begs to be put Into the cart, which seems to him a guaranty that he will be among the next to be removed. Scarcely is he laid there than a shrapnel bursts over the cart, killing him. The firing sounds more clearly. “A wounded man in the kitchen calls me. Struck by a ball in the chest, the poor fellow pants for breath. He is supporting himself by one arm, which slips on the bloody straw. With the other hand he feels in his overcoat pocket, which is glued up with congealed blood, for a letter which be hands to me, his eyes full of tears. "My sweetheart,” he murmurs. And I see in his fingers a little lock of black hair which he presses tenderly to his lips.

“Raising my eyes to the celling; I see the plaster break into a hnge star, and through a gaping hole the end of a great shell appears. The celling sinks funnel-wise; at the same moment the root cracks and the shell explodes. Then all is dark . . . Presently I come to myself, half suffocated with dust and the fames of dynamite. “The house is risen from top to bottom, and we can bee the calm, bine sky through the broken root. The least seriously wounded men disengage their fellows. Nearly all of us are bleeding. The poor lover is dead, disfigured. Shells hire struck the house on two bides. T “They manage to get into the cellar, and here the German wounded, hungry and desperate, burst out into complaints of this war of immeasurable agony into which they have been driven. ‘“"My poor wife! My poor children!* cries one of them, wounded in the stomach by a fragment of shell. -■» -?' “At this moment, in a dark comer, we heard a sob and a woman’s voice rose out of the Shadow. ’AH of my

own children are dead and my husband was killed up there in the yard.’ It was the. farmer's wife. She had watched, helpless, the work of destruction. Children, husband, goods, she, had lost everything. And I saw once more the emaciated dog up there baying in-the yard before the clotted blood of his master.”

TELLS OF DEED OF DARING

English Describes Attempt te Blow Up Bridge In Face of .* Germans. London. —A thrilling incident in the wonderful retreat of the British from Mons is described by Sapper Wells of the Royal Engineers, who passes lightly over his own part in an extraordinary act of heroism. “Our officer asked for a man to go with him to blow up a bridge so that the Germans could not follow us, and I went with him,” said Wells. “Well, to blow up a bridge we use gun-cotton and a wire fuse. It is safe enough if you take your wire well away, but this time it would not work. Our men in running back had stepped on the wire, and so we had to go nearer to the bridge and try again. Even then it would not act, so the officer said to me: 'Get out of the way. Wells.' I said: ‘No; I’ll go with you.' We were the only two on the bridge and the Germans were shooting at us, but our luck was in. “Well, we both lay dbwn and I fired ten rounds at the gun-cotton with my rifle and he did the same with a pistol, but it wouldn't work. If it had we should both have gone with it, so you see what a shave we had. Wp made a dive back and got some more guncotton and were making to have another go when an officer ordered us back, saying it was no use trying.”

HELPING THE WOUNDED

French colonials giving first aid to one of their number injured in the battle with the Germans outside Dixmude.

SING AS THEIR SHIP SINKS

Russian Transport Men Go to Death Rather Than Surrender to Turks. J London—A dispatch to Reuter’S Telegraph company from Petrograd says: “A graphic account has been received here of the end of the Russian transport Truth, which the Russians sank rather than surrender her to the Turkish cruiser Goeben. When called upon to surrender her captain headed the Truth for The shore, opened the valves and blew a hole in the bottom of the vessel. Lieutenant Ragoweky perished while attempting to fire a second charge of explosives. Part of the crew got off in hosts, while the others jumped into the water and were picked up by the Turkish ships. "The ship’s chaplain and a handful of men were left atmard. As the ship went down the chaplain was seen on deck giving hie blessing to the men who remained about him cheering net ji' i 1. ~~ i't SXrt‘