Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 163, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 July 1915 — Page 3

LIFE'S LITTLE JESTS

LITTLE DIFFERENCE IN TIME Didn't Matter to Old Darkey In Kentucky Whether Watch Was Regulated by Sun or Railroad. ■ '■ I* I ■ A prominent lawyer tells this tale of the hills of Kentucky. He had been In Jackson during the hearing of a big land case, and after the strain of several weeks in the courtroom had to take a trip up in the mountains and enjoy the quieting influence of the hills. He traveled the paths and narrow mountain roads till he found himself at the end of several days’ Journey about forty or fifty miles from the railroad. It was about noon, the lawyer judged, for his watch had run down and he could not be exact But in the midst of this deep contemplation the lawyer came upon an old darkey sitting upon a bowlder alongside the road. “What time have you?” he asked of the old darkey. “Well suh, boss, the old Waterberry says she’s about 10 minutes to 12,” was the reply. "Is that sun time or railroad time?” again questioned the lawyer. “What diffunce does that make? One am about as fer from here as the other.” —Louisville Times.

Self-Effacement.

"Are you going to your wife’a party?” asked the old friend. "No,” replied Mr. Cutnrox. “The last time we had a party I attended and couldn't find anybody to talk to.” “Then you are not a success in society?” “No. The most I can do is to stay in hiding and not Injure the prospects of mother and the girls.”

A Versatile Man.

couldn’t get along without my doctor.” “No?" “When I’m sick he tells me a funny story and I get well.” “Does he make out his bill ‘to professional service’ or ‘entertainment’?”

Creating That Impression.

“I see It again stated that eating onions regularly will make a person live a long time. Do you suppose there is any truth in that theory?" “I can’t say, but eating onions regularly will probably make a person’s life seem long to other people with whom he comes in contact.”

A Candidate for Reform.

“What are you so gloomy about?” asked the warden. "The offense for which you were sent to this prison might have been much more serious.” “That’s what depresses me. I’m afraid they ain’t goin’ to let me stay here long enough to finish me education.”

TIMES HAD CHANGED.

Mrs. Henry Peck —You used to say that I looked good enough to eat. Peck —I haven’t as good an appetite as I had than.

Not Much Argument.

“Have you chosen a name for your little daughter yet?” i “Yes. We’ve decided to call her Clotilde.” “That’s a pretty name. How did you (decide on it?” “My wife said that was the one she wanted.”

Commercialization.

“What does this talk of commercialised baseball refer to?” “The fact, possibly, that so many players have gone into vaudeville or 4>n the lecture platform.”

Not a Sincere Dancer.

“What Js your reason for wanting to learn to.dance?” “Well, it looks foolisher to sit still and look foolish than it does to get on your feet and look foolish.” .. .

IN A MUG ON MANTELPIECE

Resting Place of Old Maid Who Believed In Cremation Thus Described by Faithful Domestic. Mary and Nora had lived as faithful domestics for many years in a home whose only other occupants were two old maids. One of these was a believer in cremation. Nora took a trip to Ireland. During her absence the old maid mentioned died. Her dust was reverently put in an urn above the sitting-room fireplace, where the remaining sister could always have a sense of the departed's presence. A year later Nora returned, to the surprise of Mary, who gave her a warm welcome. "I’m glad to see ye back,” said. Mary, taking the wraps. “I’m glad to be back,” said Nora — then added —“is there any chance of cornin’ to live wld ye again?” “There’s only the one of thim here now,” said Mary, reverently. “Where’s the other?” asked Nora, in astonishment. “She’s up in the mug on the mantelpiece.”—Pittsburgh Chronicle-Tele-graph.

Resourceful.

“What are your constituents going to do about your failure to get an appropriation for Crawfish creek?” "I don’t know," replied Senator Sorghum. “Maybe this year it will go dry for keeps. Then we might work up a proposition to loosen up some expenditures by having it paved as a public highway.”

Extra Work.

“That baseball pitcher has a rather spectacular delivery.” “So he has. Do you suppose he hopes to alarm the batter by his contortions?” "Perhaps, or it may be merely his way of showing that he is earning his salary.”

THE DAMAGE.

Doubleyew—Was anything broken when you fell on the street? Ecks —Someone cracked a smile and I broke a few rules of propriety.

No Chance.

“You never can tell how a man is going to turn out.” "Sometimes you can.” "For instance?” . • “When I see a fellow who would rather stay in bed all day than go out wearing socks that don’t match his tie, I know he’ll never be the president of a railroad.”

Nothing More Useful.

“I suppose l you have a great deal of poetry to handle in the spring,” said the visitor. “Oh, yes,” answered the frayed and frazzled editor. “But there are times when a manuscript contains just what I'm looking for.” “And what is that?” “Stamps.”

Taking a Gloomy View.

“What a beautiful edifice that railway station is.” “Yes. But I can’t say I approve of it,” replied Mr. Growcher. “Every time I look at the immense palatial structure I feel sorry for the poor railroads whose desire to elevate public taste has led them to live beyond their means.”

His Bread and Butter.

“I met Bitters’ wife yesterday. Talks all the time, doesn’t she?” “Yes.” “I never heard Bitters complain about ft.” “He’d better not. She supports him by lecturing.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. '

Helps Some.

“A woman is never happy unless she is in style.” 7 “Perhaps that is true, but she can get a great deal of comfort out of knowing that some woman is not in style.”

The Difference.

"How is it that one of those broth* ers succeeded so well in business while the other went to state prison?”

“Well, you see. 1 one forged ahead and the other forged a hand.”

A Usual Title.

“What is that distinguished-looking Mexican’s name?” “I don’t remember. Just call him ’general* and the chances are that you won’t go wrong.”

No Impression.

“I know of one place where a wire less call for help would have no es feet.” “Where is that?” “An intelligence offica.”

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

BRITISH ARTILLERY AT ST. ELOI

Men of the Royal Scots Fuslleers handling a heavy gun in the fiercely contested battle that took place in the ruined village of St. Eloi. ** .. I

HIDDEN IN BEER CASK SPY RIDES PAST HIS FOES

French Officer’s Conveyance, a Dutchman’s Dray, Passes Safe ’Mid Man Hunt - r 1 STOPPED NEAR THE FRONTIER Purloiner of German Secrets at Namur Finally Emerges In Holland From Barrel Refuge^—Close to Capture Several Times. By EDGAR ANSEL MOWRER. (Correspondent of the Chicago News.) Paris. —This is a story that was told me by a hotelkeeper’s wife at Namur, who has traveled considerably about Belgium. After the Germans destroyed the forts of Namur with their long-range, heavy cannon, the Belgians, for reasons which are not yet quite clear, evacuated the place. The invaders occupied the city, made it one of their centers of operations and settled down as if they intended to stay. With their usual precision they saw, even in August, that a time might come when a retreat would be necessary. Namur, at the junction of the Meuse and the Sambre, would be one of the pivots for a line of defensei They hastily began to rebuild the forts, enlarging and strengthening them.

Namurrois Go to Work at Last. But this work demanded many, hands. The Germans called upon, the inhabitants, offering high wages. For a month not a man from the town responded. The Namurrois would die rather than work for the Germans, and said so. So the German military brought a few hundred civilians from Germany, but left the original offer open to the Belgians. There was no work in Namur; the prices of foodstuffs rose higher and higher. Finally one man, maddened by the pinched faces of his wife and babies, shouldered his shovel and reported ready for work. This was the signal. Not only the Namurrois but idle men from all over Belgium came to toil at the massive fortifications. With them one day arrived a Frenchman, who turned out to be an officer of the engineering corps. He came originally from Glvet, near the Belgian frontier, so his French resembled that of the Belgians. He was dressed like a workingman, even to the insignia of the Belgian L W. W., which he wore conspicuously. His papers showed his name was Qeorges Bezon, Belgian, thirty-two years old, born at Neufchpteau. The Germans accepted him without question or suspicion. Notices Hands Are Small. For three weeks the French officer dug on the fortifications. He did his work well. Then, one day, a German officer, who happened to pause near where the Frenchman was digging, noticed that the latter’s hands, despite their coating of dirt, were small and well made. To this German they seemed too small and too well made. He questioned the pseudo-laborer. The latter’s replies were satisfactory. But the German felt that in spite of appearances something was wrong about this Georges Bezon, born in Neufchateau in April, 1882. That night Namur telephoned Neufchateau. Search among the municipal records failed to reveal the name of Bezon.

"We’ll get him,” laughed the German officer who had laid bare the deception, and he gave orders to arrest Bezon the following morning. When morning came it brought the workers to the fortifications, but Georges Bezon was not among them. A search was made. Inquiries at the house where the suspect had been staying showed he had not come In the night before. All of the efforts made by the military failed to reveal how the artful Georges had escaped. Perhaps some of the inhabitants didn’t tell all

they knew. The hatred of the Namurrois for the German is extremtf. Next Seen in Liege. The next that the clever German officer saw of Georges Bezon was at Liege. He had gone over to visit a friend, an officer in the artillery. The friend was conducting him about the town one evening. They entered a case. At the first table, sipping a glass of bitter wine, dressed as a well-to-do bourgeois, sat the man who had worked on the fortifications in Namur. “Catch that man,” the German cried to some soldiers, and he himself rushed upon his enemy. But the well dressed man had seen the German as quickly as he was seen. In a flash he was out of the case, around the first corner and had disappeared. The garrison of Liege was all upset and a hunt was begun in earnest The inhabitants were disturbed, guards were posted, German cavalry scoured the country, descriptions of Georges Bezon were telephoned broadcast. But when evening came and the cavalry bands returned none of them had the desired prisoner, though they had plenty of others who were magnanimously released as soon as they proved their innocence. Were Close to Capture. But the Germans had come closer than they knew to catching their man. From Liege to the Dutch frontier at Esden is about twelve miles. Sentries are posted on the outskirts of the town and again at the frontier. But enterprising Dutchmen drive a flourishing trade by loading drays with beer in Holland and driving to Liege and selling their refreshments. Whether legal or not, the trade seems to be allowed by both nationalities. On the day of the man hunt a Dutchman was returning from Liege to the frontier with a drayload of empty casks. He was passing through the ruined village of Vise, when from the wreck of a house a man rose and called to him to stop. “Let me go with you into Holland,” said the man, who wore the clothes of a workingman. “I can’t, friend," replied the Dutchman. “My pass is good only for one. Who are you?" For answer the other made the wide French salute with the palm forward and the fling of the arm as it returns to the side. "Oh-h-h-h-h!” said the driver. “Will you help me or not?” went on the other. “Make up your mind quickly. The cavalry are after me. It won’t be long before they’re here. You know what that means, a spy?" The sympathies of those Dutch who live along the Belgian border are not doubtful. The carter was risking his life, but he did not stop to think of consequences. “Can you get into that cask?” he asked, pointing to one on top.

WEALTHY NEGRO EXPLAINS

His Man "Friday” Arrested, He Pays Fine Because of Man’s Expertness as Driver. Sacramento, Cal. Unadulterated selfishness and not pity prompted N. C. Owens of Los Angeles, reputed as being the only negro millionaire in California, to pay a $lO fine for his chauffeur "Friday,” arrested recently for violating the state vehicle laws. In making out the receipt and a short abstract of the proceedings, Justice of the Peace C. P. Carter of ElSinor reported the remarks of the wealthy negro. "De Intention of mah soul guarantees mah putting up dis equiblent in order to keep yo* out of the lock-up. "If yo’ wasn’t de bes’ driver I eber had, I wouldn’t put up dis equiblent to save yo’ black skin.”

BANKER STARTS HOG BOOM

Gets Texas. County Worked Up and His Bank Deposits Increase Amazingly. Temple, Tex. —During a recent campaign for diversification of crops in this (Bell) county it developed that, notwithstanding Its unusual advantages for hog raising the county last year sent away $613,157 for meat. Forthwith H. C. Poe, president of the Temple State bank, communicated with breeders of fine hogs and then announced la * newspaper advertise-

The Frenchman sprang to the top of the load. “Yes,” he called from the inside, “put on the head and hammer it in well. 'Hurry." German cavalry overtook the dray 500 yards from the frontier. Stop!” ordered the sergeant in command. “What's in that load?” “Empty casks,” answpred the Dutchman, pulling up his two horses. The cavalry surrounded the dray. They inspected the driver's pass, and found it in good order. “There’s nothing in those barrels?” the sergeant asked, as he pounded lustily on the very one where the fugitive was curled. The barrel boomed a hollow reply. If the sergeant had pounded another barrel he would have noticed a difference in the tone. But he didn’t Instead, he turned’ his horse and the party galloped back the way they had come. Ten minutes later the French officer stood on Dutch soil, a free man. In his pocket and in his mind went some sketches of the German defenses of Belgium.

HER FIFTH DIVORCE CASE

Mrs. Woodson Is Only Twenty-Three and Has an Unusual Collection of Matrimonial Experiences. Kansas City, Mo. —A divorce hearing in a suit brought by Henry N. Woodson, an employee in the cashier’s office of the Kansas City Gaa company, against Lana V. Woodson, twenty-three years old, five times married since 1910 and four times divorced, was begun a few days ago in Judge Guthrie’s division of the circuit court. Woodson charges that Mrs. Woodson went to dances without his consent and that she never had told him of her former matrimonial ventures. All of this, however, Mrs. Woodson denied on the stand. She says she told him everything of her past Mrs. Woodson got a divorce from her former - husband, she said, one month before she married Woodson. She was married the first time in March, 1910, and divorced the same year. In 1910 married again. In 1911 she had obtained a second divorce and married a third time, and two years later took a fourth husband, having obtained a third divorce. In February, 1914, according to the evidence, she and the man she married in 1913 were divorced and a month later she married.

BURROWING THROUGH WALLS

Scene at St Elol where some of ths fiercest fighting of the war was waged. The picture gives an idea of the communication between the trenches. Holes are made through the walls so that the soldiers may pass from house to house.

ment that he would distribute a hum dred to the boys of th-' county, taking their personal unindorsed notes, payable out of the net profits from the pigs. Before the newspaper was off the press the printer's devil made an application for a hog. After that the applications piled in on Mr. Poe until he was fairly swamped. Mr. Poe says that the deposits tn his bank have increased >200,000 within ninety days, or coincident with the hog distribution.

Antique Maine China.

Auburn, Me.—Mrs. Mary B. Emery of Auburn, seventy-nine, has a rare collection of antique china which belonged to her mother. A few plates, a cup, saucer, bowl and potato dish, of a set over seventy years old, of white china, with light green borders and dark brown scenery in the centers, showing figures of men and women, swans, trees, urns, etc. A bowl-like cup and saucer of white china decorated with blue and red, is seventyfive years old, and the oldest piece of china is a tiny yellow teacup made without a handle. This cup belonged to Mrs. Emery’s great-aunt and is over one hundred and fifty years old.

Wouldn't Waken Baby.

Scottdale, Pa.—Rather than waken the baby by firing his revolver, Frank Weiss watched a burglar ransack his dining room. Weiss, after four hours' ordeal, had just succeeded tn getting the fretful baby to sleep.

UNCLE PETER ARRANGES

By MARTHA M’CULLOCH-WIL-LIAMS.

Jenny Gray waited on the Gray piazza, which had a look of spickspan new-fashionedness to match the affections of its lord and master, who was coming home that day, bringing a new wife and a newer young brother. Jenny, raging against the change, had been too sensible, withal too thoroughbred, to be otherwise than passively disagreeable. She had done her very best with everything—even the wilting, fretful August roses. Her thought was, “The new Mrs. Gray will find out It’s none so easy to live up to my blue china.” But when she saw a small, wispy creature half lifted from the car, insensibly her antagonism lessened. The wispy one was clearly very tired, rathof nervous, wholly unsure of herself and her position. She blushed prettily when her husband led forward his capable daughter, saying: “You’re always petting things—here’s the best ever,” forcibly joined their two hands, and introduced Uncle Peter, who was bis sister over again, only twenty years younger, and healthy as she was frail. Jenny also looked at him; a long, measuring gaze. She turned to her father, saying amiably: “Please, sir, I’d rather have the other one; it looks somehow more thriving. Uncle Peter, how will you like to be my little—’’ “Jenny!” Thunder does not begin to express the paternal voice. Mrs. Gray gasped, turned white, trembled so she could barely stand, seeing gulfs of black unhappiness ahead. Jenny looked steadfastly at the floor. Across the tense moment came a gay, boyish voice crying: “Fine! Bully! The very thing! I’ve moped so since he —” nodding at Mr. Gray —“overshadowed me with Sarah. Now, all’s right with the world; there’s a Jenny in my heaven, a Jenny who will find me troublesome.” “H-m. Two words are necessary to some bargains,” Jenny retorted, recovering herself a little. Her father shook his head at her. “I hope yon have met your match,” he said. Then to Peter: “Young man, if you’ll tame her properly it’ll be worth the best horse in my stable to you.” “Please —she ought not to be tamed, I like her best just so,” Peter Everett, honor man of his college, athlete despite his slightness and stature, said pleadingly. Then with a swift change he touched his new brother's arm saying: “Better let our Sarah rest a bit; she is ever so tired.” Jenny liked the tone, but she would have died rather than admit it —being far from a model young person. Peter had in a way turned the tables on her —she owed him and his sister, the first cause of his being there, just so much more. She set out to pay it, girl fashion, by doing her best, in a way skillfully veiled, to capture Peter. She grew to like him. Still, her vanity got an awful shock when he laid a miniature in her hand one afternoon, saying: “Hope you like her looks! Girl I’m going to marry—some day—if I make anything of myself.” “H-m! What does she say to that?” Jenny asked, her head swimming the least bit Peter looked down. “I had rather not tell you,” he said. “But —I can’t venture unless Pm surer I partly deserve her love. It's the Sarah sort —” “I don’t understand,” Jenny interrupted. He smiled at her. “I was sure you did not” be said. “If you had, being the good sort you are, you’d never—” “Don’t speak of that —I was horribly impertinent to —both of you,” Jenny confessed. Peter smiled again. “The Sarah sort is this,” he went on, “love that lives hopeless in the face of injustice. My sister and your father were betrothed in early youth. Chance brought him in the way of his old sweetheart, and the two of them were young again. Fact! I saw it —and for a minute at least hated him. Sarah had been everything to me since our mother died. Twenty years between us—yet she isn’t old. Haven’t they a right to this autumnal happiness?” “It seems they have —yet 1 can’t agree—when I think of —mother, * Jenny broke out, hiding her face in her hands with a dry soo. “We seem to be—so superfluous,” she went on bitterly. “I mean to insist that father shall send me away.’” “He will never do it Never in the world,” Peter said with a confident accent. She gave him a hard, reproachful look, so he added merrily: “He surely will not send you—because he is going to take you himself—with Sarah to make a home for you both. You shall stoy as long as you like —study or play at your pleasure —” “This is your doing!” Jenny broke in. He nodded roguishly, saying with a sly smile. “Well, you mustn’t mind owing things to Uncle Peter.” (Copyright, 1915. by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)

No Chicken.

Lady (recently married)—Do you. know I find it quite hard to remember my new husband’s name. Her Friend—Naturally, dear; you had the old one so long, you know.

Nowaday

“Why is it that age is so much preferred in wine and not in women? “Because you can’t put it down In woine ®-- ..