Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 119, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 May 1915 — Page 3

SEEING LIFE with JOHN HENRY

SAY! Did you ever take your life in your right hand and go shopping with your wife? .< I tried it the other day and I’ve been bearing voices ever since. When I say “shopping” I don’t mean that simple everyday gag of bursting suddenly in upon the sleepy floorwalker in a delicatessen parlor and with languid elbows leaning over the remnants of a once beautiful cheese while he, cruelly separates four kippered herring from the bosom of a large and loving family. Nix—l mean Big League shopping. I mean that kind of shopping that women go in training for two weeks in advance; high-class, expert shopping, where important money changes hands; * the kind of shopping that wives look forward to with dreamy eyes and live ever after on the memories; the shopping that sweeps a husband off his feet and makes him long to be a dusky-hued postmaster in No. 8 township, Samoan Islands, where the fashion in fig leaves is permanent and money is a myth. “John,” said Peaches, the , other morning, “I want you to go to the stores with me today. I have a lot of shopping to do and you can be such a help to me, because —” “Wait a minute, friend wife,” I broke in. “What have I done that you should wish such a calamity on me? Tell, me to go out and get for my personal use an attack of inflammatory rheumatism and I’ll do so; ask me to try to'catch a street car at the corner of Broadway* and Fifty-third Street and I’ll work hard at the job up to the time a murderous taxicab climbs my front elevation and maims me for life—but don’t, Oh! wife, don’t ask me to go shopping with you!” “Nonsense!” she gurgled. “I can’t go alone, can I? And, besides, you must help me select two new gowns at the Maison de Splash—l must have at least two, mustn’t I? And from there we’ll go to Glnkstein and Boobheimer’s, wtyere I want to get a hat — I must have something chic ( to take off in the theaters, mustn’t I? —And then we’ll spend an hour in Gorgonzola Brothers, where I can pick out the set of furs you promised me for Christmas, and then we’ll go to Camembert’s for some gloves I need, and then—’’ Help! Throw me anything! Don’t you see I’m sinking! The answer is I went —and live to prattle about It. You know, this shopping gag brings out more prominently than anything else the fact that the high cost of living is caused by living high at any cost. The ancient Greeks had a saying, “He spends his money like a drunken sailor,” and that goes for seventy-five out of a hundred today. The majority of the boobs give

“She la Nothing But a Manikin Parading a Costume.”

daily imitations of the sailor and they don't even wait to get intoxicated. Whatever my neighbor does I want to do—only more so. If my neighbor saves up eight dol* lars and twenty cents and buys a red benzine buggy I immediately get together seven dollars and a quarter wilt get a blue one. In the meantime the automobile people put a white chalk mark on our houses. If your wife buys a nearly-sealskin wife has to rush and get an almostmink with possibly-ermine trimmings, and the children fill up the holes in their shoes with putty and exclaim, «Oh, doesn't Mamma look sweet in the fur mackintosh!” ~’X-s Vanity Is a worm that eats the lining out of a pocketbook. All of which is neither here , nor there, as the engineer said when the train left the track. So it's back to that shopping proposition with friend wife. Our ’first port of call was the Maison de Splash, where they trim a ptann cover with a lace curtain and call it a “creation.” It certainly was a gorgeous cozy corner, that place! The walls were decorated in soft, harmonious shades

by Geoige V.Hobart

Coins Shopping

and the floor had an Alfalfa carpet so a woman could faint wherever she happened to be standing when told the price of the particular gown she had picked to win. D’Artagnan’s grandfather met us at the front gate and swash-buckled us into the main Torture Room in the Inquisition. , Suffering Savings Banks, such gowns! Never before have I seen so many good excuses for a woman to leave home. In . the meantime D’Artagnan’s grandfather was splashing French idioms in all directions until I turned and gave him the mackerel eye. Then he switched to English—and killed it all except a few vowels. “Ah! Madame wishes a new gown, n’cest pas? Something chic, Parisian, ravissant, n’cest pas? I have here such wonders. Paquin, yes! Worth, eh! Poiret, yes! Callot Soeurs, eh? Doucet, yes!” Then he nailed me with the gimlet holes he used as eyes. "Is mat the correct batting order for today?” I inquired politely. "Batting ordaire!” he fumbled, and then Peaches ordered me to the bench. She turned and whispered a few encouraging words to D’Artagnan’s grandfather, whereupon he began to do Pavlowas hither and thither across the room until he finally disappeared. “He’s going to show us the latest creations,” Peadhes explained. “What is he?” I -worried. “A French nobleman over here under cover to pick up a bit of cake money?” “Of course not,” she pouted. “He is M’sleu Voulezvous, the Proprietor of the Maison de Splash—a recognized authority on women’s dress.” Enter M’sleu Voulezvous, alias D’Artagnan’s grandfather, at Left Second, dancingly; followed by Clara Panatella, blonde and glad of it. “Who is the ingenue?” I whispered. "Shush!” friend wife came back. “She is nothing but a manikin parading a costume. Isn’t it perfectly lovely?” “Gul, oui!" chimed in D’Artagnan’s grandfather. "You see what it is—yes! Faded gray chiffon cloth figured with ze raspberry and a small lemoncolored flower. You see double fichus of ze material edged with creamcolored Bulgarian embroidery draping ze shouldalre and crossing in ze front and back —ravissant! Ze skirt is vaire full at ze top with ze pannier effect at each side and draped into a panel of raspberry color silk in ze back, which falls down from a girdle of ze same raspberry color silk —ravissant, yes!” “Exquisite!” murmured Peaches. “How much?” “Two hundred feefty dollaire,” answered D’Artagnan’s grandfather, without a quiver. Some actor, that old boy. I choked back a couple of sobs and

began to think hard. Two hundred and fifty dollars for a dish of raspberries with cream colored trimmings—assist"How do you like it?" Peaches cooed. V “Lovely!" I answered as one inspired. “Prettiest hair I’ve ever seen. And her eyes—blue mirrors of her native Mediterranean! I've been lost in admiration ever since she floated into the room., Did you get that glad gaze she handed out to me when —” By this time the blonde Venus wrapped up in the raspberry trimmings was being led hurriedly away from there by the bewildered grandfather of D’Artagnan, and in the short, sharp silence which folio ved lightning flashed from the eyes o a certain party and storm signals were ordered up from the Capes to Bangor. Enter trippingly, from Left 2nd; Mons. Voulezvous, followed by Carisslma Maduro, walking a la Slouch. “Now we have it, yes!” spluttered the anceitct of D'Artagnan, turning the manikin around and around tor our Inspection, i “You see, Le Minaret! It is ravissant, n’cest pas! You. M'sieu, I should value your opinion of Le Minaret, yes!”

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER, IND.

"Hoops, my dear!" I asinined, net knowing what else to say. "Le Minaret,” continued the friend of Louis the XI, "it would be to Madame’s beauty as the rose is to a lovely garden, yes!" He was there with the salve, that eld boy. Hypnotized by the harmony of colors and carried away by the up-to-dateness of the creation. Peaches breathed in. the ear of Voulezvous an eager, "How much?” “Three hundred and feefty dollaire,” he breathed back to her. Sinking for the second time, I didn’t breathe at all. Then, with a forgiving smile, Peaches turned to me and said, “Isn’t it lovely? Isn’t it wonderful?” “She is,” I answered; “she’s a quaint little package of pepper—that’s what she is! I thought I liked that blonde, but it was only a passing fancy. This brunet has me limping after her along the Road of Happiness. Did you pipe the smile she saved up for me and me alone? She must burn acetylene in both lamps, because I’m all lit up with excitement A queen, take it from an expert—a queen!” Exit Le Minaret hurriedly, while Voulezvous stood there expressing astonishment with both shoulders and the small of his back. “Does Madame prefer something else, yes?” he wigwagged, after notic-

“She Pointed Her Nose at the North Star and Left Me Flat.”

ing how high In the air Peaches was wearing her chin. “Yes,” I butted in quickly; “bring on something nifty in a transparent skirt—’’ Curtain. When I came to I was out on the sidewalk listening to Section VL, Paragraph IV, of the Riot Act Then she pointed her nose at the North Star and left me flat Peaches will probably speak to me again some time before Christmas. She’ll have to if she believes in Santa Claus.

HOW ONE MAN GOT HIS START

Ambition to Be Author Not Successful, But it Served a Good Purpose in the End. "I got my start in life,” said a wealthy retired hardware dealer, "in a singular manner. “You might not think it, I having passed the major portion of my life in selling nails, padlocks, stoves and shovels, but in my early youth my great ambition was to be a writer, an author. I had no doubt whatever that that was what I was cut out for, and certainly I worked at it good and hard; but none of the publishers seemed to agree with me. As fast as I sent the things in to them (hey would send them back. “But that didn’t worry me. I Knew that sooner or later they would come to like what I wrote and buy it. What got my goat was the expense. I was a very ready writer and I wrote long pieces. The stamps 1 had to use to send these pieces out and get them back cost me a lot of money. "When I realized how much I was paying out for stamps I said to myself, ‘Humpf! I’ll save up that money for five years and then I’ll go to writing again.’ And for the next five years I did put aside regularly the amount that I would otherwise have spent for stamps, and you would be surprised it I should tell you how much it amounted to. But at the end of that time I did not again take up writing. "Just at that time .the senior partner in the hardware store in our town died and his heirs drew out all his interest in the firm. There was a chance for a man with a little capital to get into a good business. I had the capital, my accumulated stamp money, and I bought that interest in the hardware store. "From that time bn I was always too busy to write; but my great success in the hardware business you can clearly trace to my original ambition for authorship.”

He Couldn't Lose.

A lady in Los Angeles decided whether she would bring divorce proceedings or not by boiling an egg. Some of the eggs were hard and some soft. If she drew a hard one she was to sue. If her egg was soft she was to remain unhappy and married. She drew the hard egg. Any husband who was given an even break like that with an egg and a divorce ought to be glad to abide by the consequences. Ho would win if be lost—and he did. *,

MARRYING ROYALTY

So Carl Said When He Wedded the Queen of Cooks. Mrs. Bliss came into the day nursery, her large rosy face growing a deeper pink with the exertion of climbing the stairs to the third floor. "Good morning. Miss Newton,” she smiled at the little nursery governess who was sitting with Bobby in the window seat. “I wonder if you and Bobby wouldn’t like to play today? We are going to picnic at the pine grove and —” “Oh, mother-honey!” Bobby flung his sturdy self at his parent. “Will there be lemonade and chicken sandwiches? And can I wear my new white Tommy Tucker suit?” “Yes, to everything,”, laughed Mrs. Bliss, kissing him and moving toward the door. “Can you Le ready in 15 minutes, Miss Newton?” “Of course we can, Mrs. Bliss! We wouldn’t miss a picnic for the world, would we, Bobby?” She jumped up and put away books and toys. “Come, childie!” They danced down the corridor- to Bobby’s room where nurse quickly put him into the much-admired suit. In the meantime Beth Newton brushed her red-brown hair and slipped into a dainty pale blue gingham frock, then the girl and the little boy went sedately downstairs to the front veranda where three motor cars were waiting for the merry house party that had filled the Bliss country home for ten days. Some of the girls and women came up and spoke to Bobby and nodded kindly to the little governess; one of them, Miss Nugent, tall, graceful, and carelessly kind in her manner, introduced Beth right and left, until presently the girl found herself in timid conversation with Mr. Carl Bellew, so many times a millionaire that no one troubled to remember exactly how many dollars there were and only recalled that he was just as nice as if he didn’t have a penny. At last they were off, Beth and Bobby tucked away in the tonneau of the last car with Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, the footman and the lunch baskets which overflowed on to the running boards and th‘e luggage carriers.

“This is jolly!” cried Bobby enthusiastically as they swept out of the driveway and turned up the rdad that led to the Pine Mountain. Beth smiled absently. Perhaps she was thinking that it might have been pleasanter if she had been in one of the other large cars among that merry crowd of girls and young men. But she chided herself sharply for the momentary discontent and was soon, her olrn accustomed happy self, enjoying the unexpected holidays to the utmost. a At the pine grove the picniw hampers were unloaded; James, the footman, built a fire and was then allowed to return home with the machines- They were to come for the picknickers at sundown. “One can’t have a jolly picnic with servants around,” Mrs. Bliss had decided. Leaving the fire to take care of Itself the party trooped through the pines to the glade where a waterfall tumbled among the brown rocks. An acrid smell of burning brought them running to the campfire. The fire had overcrept the boundaries of. its encircling stopes and had licked its way among the pine needles until it reached the four large hampers. There was nothing left of the food save blackened remnants, and of the hampers there remained only charred splinters. As the picknickers reached the scene the last soda water bottle exploded with a sickening report. “Seven miles from anywhere! groaned Mrs. Bliss. “And not a thing to eat!” added Mitchell blankly. “Or to drink,” mourned Mr. Mitchell as he grubbed among the ruins of the hampers. There was a murmur of discontent among the young people. Some of the men volunteered to walk back to the house and bring something to eat but the question was quickly decided when a few heavy drops of rain fell. “Where is the nearest shelter?” asked Carl Bellew. “It must be old Ned Blake’s shanty,” replied Mrs. Bliss. “At least it will keep us dry for awhile. Come, everybody!” Someone laughed a spirit of adventure into the, party and so they hastened down the slope until under the shoulder of the mountain they reached a long, weather-beaten shanty built against- a great rock that formed its rear wall. f Ned Blake was a hermit who gained a living by gathering herbs and berrfes in season. Repeated knocks upon the door brought no response. “The latchstring is out," suggested Beth Newton. Carl Bellew pulled the latch-string and pushed open the weather-beaten door. The poor furnishings were spotlessly clean and neat but the hermit was absent . . ft,' '•< S&* '• “We must find something to eat and we can pay Ned when he returns,” said Mrs. BBSs as she sank down in a cushioned Boston rocker, while the young people found seats on the rag-carpeted floor before the open fireplace. Soon Carl Bellew had a fire of hickory logs blazing on the hearth while Lillian Nugent and Beth New-

ton explored the pantry. Miss Nogent returned to the living room. “There isn’t a bit of cqoked food in the place—not even bread!" she announced. “There are flour and sugar and eggs and potatoes and some canned things—what can we do? Do any of you girls know how to cook eggs?" Miss Taylor confessed that she had made creamed eggs in a chafing dish at home —but —she shrugged her shoulders. The other women were silent Beth Newton stood m the kitchen doorway, her face pink with shyness; she looked distractingly pretty at that moment , “If you don’t mind waiting a half hour I believe I could prepare something fit to eat” she announced timidly. They applauded her enthusiastically and offered to help. She accepted Miss Taylor for an assistant in the kitchen, and Lillian Nugent opened the tiny cupboard and prepared to set the table for a dozen people from the hermit’s scanty store of crockery. Beth lighted a fire in the cracked old cookstove, Carl Bellew and Andy Smith carried firewood, and opened the cans of vegetables. Bobby danced in and out report-ing-progress. "Baked potatoes! Hot biscuits —um! Bacon —mother, they’re cooking bacon and eggs out there!” They were doing all those things, while outside of the frail shelter a summer rain drummed on the shingles and made the fire and the coziness more desirable. At last they sat down at two tables. They gave Beth a seat of honor, and no one told her of the dab of flour on her hair or the smudge of soot that became a beauty spot near her lively eye. With her flushed cheeky her 5 ruffled brown hair, her pale blue sleeves pushed up above her rounded elbows, Beth Newton was radiant. They were all so good to her, too! She smiled happily, too tired to eat. Her eyes met Carl Bellew’s and something in the man’s gaze brought a hot flush to her cheek. After that her eyes did not wander far from her plate. ' As a delightful surprise Beth produced a steaming apple puddihg with maple sirup, and in token of their gratitude Andy Smith hastily plucked a bunch of herbs from the rafters and solemnly crowned her with a wreath of catnip, the queen of cooks. By the time the dishes were washed and put away the sun was shining outside. The invaders had restored the house to order and Carl Bellew had pinned a note on the table cover. Inside of that envelope were folded crackling banknotes of such large denomination that old Ned Blake would never cease to marvel over the accession of riches that made his declining days more comfortable. They returned to the scene of the campfire, and all too soon the three motor cars arrived. Somehow Mrs. Bliss managed to smuggle Beth and Bobby into the same car with herself and Carl Bellew, and that night when she went to bed the girl assured herself that she had rounded out her perfect day. A few days later the party had broken up and the- picnic was forgotten by all save Beth Newton and Bobby—and, perhaps, Carl Bellew. His place was not very far away‘and he found many excuses for calling on the Blisses. When kindly Mrs. Bliss realized that it was her little nursery governess whom Carl Bellew wanted to see, she remembered her own days of wooing, and entered whole-hearted-ly into matchmaking. “Dear,” said Carl Bellew,one October day when he had received Beth’s answer. “J’ve loved you from the beginning, but when I tasted your cooking—” Beth’s hand pressed his lips in silence. She looked up at her splendid, gallant lover. "Ah, Carl,” she murmured. “I am such a humble little thing—so unworthy of you! You might marry a princess—or a queen!” Carl threw back his head and laughed. Then he gathered her closer in his arms. “I am going to marry a queen," he protested, “the queen of cooks!”

Her Oversight.

“That last cook you sent me did not suit at all.” “What was the matter?” “She couldn“t cook.” "Oh, why didn’t you say you wanted one that could cook?”

And No Insurance.

Bookkeeper—The old man’s getting to be quite an Incendiary. , Cashier —What’s the answer? Bookkeeper—He fired two more men today.

After Marriage.

"Tell me, Vanessa, does your music help you make your home happy?” "Not much. A sonata is of little interest to a man when he wants a boiled dinner.”

She Knew Father

"Ail the world loves a lover, you know,” said the young man. “You’ll find out your mistake when you speak to father,” replied the sweet young thing. v -

Paw Knew the Answer.

Little Lemuel—Say, paw, what ispn underwriter? ' . Paw—An underwriter, son, is a woman who always adds a postscript to her letters.

Soon In the Soup.

“Dinner’s ready,” thought the ladle "I suppose Hl.soon be in the soup."

An Appeal to Students

By REV HOWARD W. POPE

W Mm* WCMm«b

TEXT—Study to shew thyself approved unto God.—ll Timothy 2:15. Mr. Gladstone was once asked what was the leading question in England at

have been prominent in England during the last fifty years, in business, politics, or literature, and of the sixty most prominent men, flfty-four have been professing Christians.” If Mr. Gladstone was right, and if the question of one’s relation to Christ is the leading question which confronts a student, it is very important that he settle it early. Indeed this question lies at the basis of all education. What is the real object of education? It is to increase one's capacity to know God, and to make him known to others. This is what education is for, what life is for. “And this is' life eternal that they should know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent" (John 17:3). ’ I. The keenest delight of which we are capable comes to us from knowing God. When the devout astronomer Kepler made his great discovery, he exclaimed, “O God, I think thy thoughts after thee.” There is no greater joy than this, unless it be that of seeing God’s character reproduced in our lives. If this be true, then education is not optional with us, but imperative. We are bound to cultivate every talent which we possess, because each is an avenue through which God can reveal himself to us. We are bound to open every window of our soul “towards Jerusalem,” and let in the light of God’s glorious truth. 11. The superior advantages which students enjoy make it doubly important that they should become acquainted early with the Lord Jesus. Education enlarges one’s capacity to see and foresee, to do and to undo. It multiplies his Influence, and thus increases his responsibility, since the welfare of others depends upon his action and attitude. No educated person can possibly live a Christless life without leading others to do the same. This consideration should have great weight. A professor in a large military school recently told the writer that it was the thought of his influence’ with the boys which led him to decide for God and put himself on reco.d as a Christian. 111. Again, the peculiar temptations which confront a student make an acquaintance with Jesus indispensable. Among these may be mentioned: (a) The freedom from home restraint. The strong, steadying hand of the father and the Indescribable Influence of the mother is lacking. There is no younger brother or sister to be considered, not even the restraining influence of someone else’s sister. The consequence is that one grows selfish and comes to think that all the world was made for him. (b) The petty vices which prevail so commonly among students. By the side of the writer in college sat the valedictorian of the class. He was a well-disposed man. but he had no religious principles. When others drank he was not strong enough to refuse. After graduation he studied law and became one of the most brilliant and promising lawyers in the state. Temptations now grew stronger and more frequent, and having no acquaintance with him “who is able to save to the uttermost,” and "able to keep you from falling," he soon lost his standing and business, and died a common drunkard. (c) Not the least of the dangers Vhich confront a student is the temptation to doubt. He lives in an atmosphere of inquiry and criticism. Old theories are being laid aside and new facts are constantly being discovered. Possibly he sees some of his instructors, for whose ability he has the highest respect, utterly indifferent to the claims of the Gospel. Literature la full of covert sneera at religion. He is just at the age when his critical faculties are being developed, and he begins to question everything which he once believed. Add to this the natural willingness of the heart to have It so. and you have a combination of circumstances calculated to shake the strongest faith. Some, indeed, think it a sign of superior intellect to doubt, but this is a mistake. It Is sometime* a sign of spiritual blindness, and often of moral obliquity. A large part of the skepticism of students is of the, heart rather than of the head. Idle men tempt the devil to tempt/ them.— Spureeon. .

that time. He replied that there was but one leading question at that time, or at any time, and that was the question of one’s relation to the Lord Jesus Christ. He then went on to say that the brainiest men were those who paid most attention to this subject “I have known personally all the men who