Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 165, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 July 1915 — Page 2

SHE WENT SAILING

By OREN M'NEIL.

At four o’clock In the afternoon Miss Blythe Winters finished her book. No matter what the title was, she was not to remember it an hour. No one girl in ten ever does. At 4:05 Miss Blythe rose languidly from her seat. At 4:06 she yawned. At 4:08 she took down an old skirt from a hook in the closet and proceeded to get into it. At 4:15 she had changed her slippers for a pair of stout walking shoes. At 4.18 she had hunted up her old hat. At exactly 4:20 she appeared before her mother downstairs and said: “I am going sailing for about an hour." “But your brother Fred has gone to town ” “That makes no difference. I can sail a boat as well as he can.” “Why, Blythe, you haven't been out with him more than three times!” “But wasn’t I watching all the time to see how it was done? Poof! All you’ve got to do is to watch the wind.” “But I wish you wouldn't go. Neither Fred nor your father may be home before midnight.” “While 1 shall be back within two hours. There’s a fine breeze, and it will blow the cobwebs away. So long, mother! Don’t worry about yours truly.” It looks as easy as pie to sail a boat. In the first place, you want the wind — not too much nor too little. If the wind isn’t right to sail up or down the lake, then sail across it Don’t think the breezes must be made to your order.

You stumble into the boat and raise the sail. It doesn't make such a great difference about the stumble, but it is imperative about the sail. When it is up you make the halyards fast and go to the stern and take the tiller. Attached to the bottom of the sail is a boom, and attached to this boom is a rope called a sheet. It is no more a sheet than you are, but the sailor who first called it must have grown tired of calling everything a rope, and so made a change. The boatman holds the free end of this sheet in his hand, so that in case of a sudden gust he can slack away and spill the wind and prevent an upset. This was one of the several things that Miss Blythe had not taken notice of when she went sailing with he/ brother. With charming assurance she went sailing away, and she chuckled with glee at the thought of how she would crow over Fred. Off Tiger island, young Mr. Walter Dayton was fishing from an open boat. He had come down from the city for the late fall sport, and had not the slightest suspicion that Cupid was going to spread a net for him. There are no halyards or ropes or sheets or sails about fishing. All you have to do is to throw a baited hook over, and by and by a foolish bass comes along and gulps it down and you pull him in.

Mr. Dayton was fishing away, and his thoughts were not even remotely on the feminine sex when he was aroused by a woman’s voice calling out: “Oh. oh! Please get out of my way!” He looked up to see a sailboat bearing down on him and a girl twisting the helm one way and the other. Her craft was so dose at hand that all he could do was to seize an oar and prepare to fend her off. His craft was struck a glancing blow, the best he could do. and as the other drifted away he called out: “They shouldn’t have let you come out with that boat!" “And they shouldn’t have let you!” was the spirited reply. “Don’t you know that the wind is rising and becoming gusty?” “What of it?" “Your sheet has been made fast, and the first heavy gust will upset your boat!” She did not even look his way. “There goes a girl who needs a strong hand!” muttered the young man, as he kept down the bay. "There is a young man who thinks he is very clever.” was the comment of the girl as she left him behind. It was true that the wind was rising and becoming gusty, and therefore sailing was unsafe for a novice, but Miss Blythe wanted that young man to understand that she could manage things without his advice. Providence looks after foolish girls as well as foolish men. It looked after this one as her boat yawed this way and that, and it clouded up and the sun got lower and lower. She would have cut her voyage short, but for the action of Mr. Dayton. His was a motor boat, and after awhile he said to himself: “That girl is going to get in trouble, sure enough. I’ll pull up the anchor and drift down, so I’ll be closer at hand when I am needed.” The girl looked back after a while and saw what he was up to and said to herself: “Oh-ho! He is getting ready to play the rescuer.and the hero, is he? Well, I shall disappoint him.” By the time she was ready to turn back the wind had increased threefold. She had seen her brother bring the boat about, but had not mastered the trick herself. She must try it, however. With a prayer that it might be a success, she moved the tiller over, and the next moment the craft was keeling over and she was screaming for help. The man in the motor boat was not far away, and within two minutes he was pulling averv wet and

much-bedraggled form to a seat in his boat. For the next five minutes he waa busy righting her boat and making it fast for a tow, and then he turned to her to be greeted with: "I suppose you are glad it happened ?” “It was a silly thing for you to do, knowing nothing of the management of a sailboat!” he slowly answered. “But you know all about it!” was fired at him * “I have run a sailboat for years.” “Did you begin as soon as you were weaned?" It was a long time before he spoke again, and then he said: “There is a shooting jacket on tne seat beside you. If you feel chilly put it on. I will get you home as soon as possible.” She opened her lips to say something, but just then the engine of the motor boat went “dead.” Mr. Dayton gave expression to his feelings of astonishment, and thereby gave away the fact he wasn’t much acquainted with motor boats and their way of stopping to rest every few minutes. “What is it?” asked Miss Blythe. “Engine out of order!” “It was very silly of you to come out in this boat!” They were running in close to Cat island and, unheeding the taunt, he got out an oar and brought the craft to land and began an inspection. When he had worked In vain for half an hour he rose to ease his aching back and said: “I’m not electrician enough to repair it.” “Then there are men smarter than you!” chuckled the girl. "Plenty of them!” “I thought there couldn’t be. Well, what are we going to do?” “Will anybody come after you?” “Father or Fred may come about midnight, but I am not sure of It.” “We can’t use either to get away tn. The motor is disabled, and your boat has lost its mast and sail.” “And we must sit here till help comes?” “Do you see any other way?” “If I were a young man, I'd take a few lessons in a few things, and I’d begin on motor boats. We’ve got a hired man at home who doesn’t know enough to pound sand, and yet I’ll wager he can fix this boat in ten minutes.” “If I’d have let you drown out there—’’ “But nobody asked your help. I had the boat to cling to, and was all right.” “I’ll know’ better next time!” was the sulky reply as the young man turned away. From thence on, for a long half hour, there was silence between them. Then it was broken by Miss Blythe saying: “Did you ever go over Niagara Falls in a barrel?” "Were you ever fired from a cannon?” he replied. Then there followed another long silence. Of course, these venturesome young persons were rescued long before they had experienced any’ serious hardship. When they separated, It is certain that neither had the faintest premonition of what the outcome of their unpropitious introduction would be,and it is equally probable that either would have disclaimed any intention to pursue the acquaintance. It is a fact, however, that they were married less than a fortnight ago. (Copyright, '1915. by the McClure News- . . paper Syndicate.)

ALL WOMEN WEAR THE SHAWL

Little Chance to Show Beauty of Form or Clothinfl in the Mill Towns of Ulster. In the mill cities of Ulster all alike, young girls and matrons, envelop themselves in drab-colored shawls, hideous wrappings of tweed or knitted wool or drugget cloth, which cover them from waist to hatless head —garments alw-ays either rain-sodden or dust-choked, which to the hygienist shout aloud of dirt germs and disease. In such a garb there can be no place for feminine coquetry or individuality of adornment; it is as if they had all sealed themselves to labor with a common seal of ugliness, even as women in the East blacken their teeth with betel nut in token that they renounce the pomps and vanities of feminine allurements. Their voices have the curious rhythmic lilt and fall which marks the Ulsterman’s speech all the world over, and their speech is characterized by a Rabelaisian raciness and forcible directness which, to the ear of a stranger, are qualities more admirable in men than in women. The Belfast mill girl’s vocabulary is’ indeed a fearful and wonderful thing—a local dialect peculiar to the linen industry and themselves, which is heard at its brightest and best in fierce ordeals or wordy battle —a trumpet tongue of invective and*grim humor, the speech of a breed which believes implicitly in physical prowess and the survival of the fittest.

An Inconvenient God.

Said a little Japanese girl to her heathen grandmother as she came home from a Christian. Sunday school. “I have to go to the temple to pray to my god, but this God of the Christians can be prayed to when you are warm in bed, or ’most any time. But there’s one thing I don’t like; he can see you all the time everywhere, and sometimes I should think that w’ould be quite inconvenient.” There are some in Christian lands that agree with that Japanese girl.— Christian Herald.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

REWARD OF INSOMNIA

SLEEPLESS ’ INDIVIDUAL HAS SOME RECOMPENSE. At Least He Can Rest His Body, and Listening for the Coming of the Day Is Pleasure to Be Appreciated. Few men are more to be pitied than the confirmed “insomniac.” Few men seek more pity. Whoso cannot sleep must retail his tale of trouble to his associates, friends and chance acquaintances. He expects consideration and unconsciously demands admiration. But as a matter of fact, nearly every wakeful person in culpably responsible for his wakefulness. The longer he stays awake the more nervous and more irritated he becomes. He comes to dislike himself, to dislike nature, to dislike a world so poorly arranged. His wakefulness is a tense mental strain, more wearying than a day’s labor. The wearier he becomes the more resentful he feels, and he rages against his helplessness. All of which is sheer folly. Going to bed is as much for the purpose of resting the* body as of resting the mind. If the mind refuses to rest, the body should be given a fair chance. Counting to Impossible numbers and such artificial devices are usually vain. The best plan is to lie relaxed and at ease, thinking of something altogether agreeable. A reading lamp at the head of the bed and a handy book may be resorted to. Even if one stays awake thus for hours bis body is resting, and in the morning he is partly refreshed. Actual insomnia is very rare. Fear of insomnia, or “insomniaphobia,” is the ailment from which most sleepless persons suffer. But if sleeplessness cannot be put aside there is a certain reward for the sufferer. He can listen for the coming of the day, which is a pleasure denied to healthy sleepers. Just now he hears the first heralding of dawn at about 3:45. The herald is a rooster in some neighbor’s back yard. Heretofore that rooster has been greatly disliked and the neighbor has shared in his fowl’s unpopularity. Raucous crowings have awakened many a querulous slumberer. But when one is wide awake the cheery welcome to the new day is altogether agreeable. Chanticleer calls and calls and at length he has his answers; other roosters near and far send back their sanction of his message of optimism and confidence. And if the listener peers beneath the window shade there Is the first showing of the wan mystic light which bathes the birth of the dawn. Ten minutes more and a robin begins his song. Once well begun he does not cease for a long time. When the light grows strong the robin becomes less enthusiastic and his song is intermittent. Only at the day’s beginning does he sing his best and loudest. A few more minutes pass and an oriole commences to sing, or perhaps a wren. And the busy English sparrows cluck and chirp right beneath the window. There comes a faint rumble from the awakening city. The milkman clatters to the back door and clatters away again. A little morning breeze stirs the curtains, and a breath of it, fresh and cool, comes to the crumpled bed. A laborer passes whistling on his way to work, but it seems a drowsy whistle. The robin’s music seems to subside into a sleepy monotone. There is the almost soundless sound of the fitful wind in the maple leaves. And then, and then —.—Cleveland Plain Dealer.

Our Service by the Sea.

When you go to the beach this summer you will see the drill of the coast guard, not of the lifesaving service. The latter has been merged this year with the revenue cutter service to form tne new organization which has some 300 well-equipped stations along our 10,000 miles of coast and is manned by surfmen skilled in all the ways of the sea. If an institution is the lengthened shadow of a man, our lifesaving service was the shadow of Sumner I. Kimball, a Yankee from the state of Maine, who took hold in 1871 when they had only a few clumsy boats housed in huts and manned by volunteers along a part of the eastern coast. When he was retired this year his organization covered all our coasts and had aided over 28,000 distressed vessels, carrying over 180,000 persons, of whom 1,455 were lost —about as many as perished on the Lusitania. Mr. Kimball’s unending struggle was with congress, first for adequate support and then for pensions for retired or disabled life savers. Both ends are now achieved, and he retires with an inspiring record of past service and of constructive work for the future. It is by such men that the state is builL — Collier’s Weekly.

Camp for the Tubercular.

A bill appropriating SB,OOO to operate a camp for tubercular inmates of state institutions, established at Tomahawk Lake, in the Wisconsin forest reserve, was passed by th® state senate of that state without opposition.

Still Cheerful.

“Did you attend Miss Seresum’i birthday party?*’ “Oh, yes. I was there.” x “What kind of time did you have?” “The best ever.” “What is your impression of her?" “She's a game loser.”

GAME OF LIFE WAS CALLED

On Account of Darkness After 1 ragio Accident to Enthusiastic Baseball Fan.' W. H. Murphy, a salesman, living at the Minneveska apartments, was on hrs way to the ball game, reports the Los Angeles Times. He tried to board a moving train, grasped the handrail and tried to lift himself to the steps. His grasp was not firm, and his palms were moist with running, and as he began to elevate himself his kands slipped. A lurch, a swing and a sudden shift, and his body was thrown to the rails. His legs were caught beneath the wheels and the train passed over them, amputing both above the ankles. He was taken to the Receiving hospital for treatment, where Surgeon Wiley and Assistant Surgeons Rooms and Johnson dressed the limbs, an operation demanding further amputation. As he went to the operating table to receive the ether he was smiling and cheerily talked with the nurses. “No more ball games for me for a while,” he remarked. The attentions of the surgeons stopped further’ speech, while the ether was administered, and afterward, w’hen he had been wheeled from the spotless surgery to the ward, he began to talk again. He was at the ball game. “Well, he’ll get a hit now. The time has come; he’s going to get a hit now. “Oh, hum, it’s rather a slow game today. What’s the matter with those boys that they’re moving so slow? They ought to hurry. Can’t they see It’s getting dark? It’s certainly getting dark fast. You can hardly see the outfielders there —not in right field, anyhow. I guess they’ll have to stop soon, won’t they? The sun’s all gone down. My, but it went fast. “And see how dark it’s getting—why—why — “I guess they’ll have to call —the game.” And the surgeons drew the sheet far over his head and notified the undertakers.

New Record by Fisheries Bureau.

The commissioner of fisheries, under date of June 10, advises that not only will the output of the fish-cul-tural operations of the bureau of fisheries during the fiscal year ending June 30 surpass previous records but for the first time in many years there has been a sufficient supply of black bass to meet all current demands for both public and private waters. All outstanding applications for black bass will be filled. Some of these have been held over for several years for lack of a sufficient supply of the fish. Among recent deliveries of this fish have been 10,000 to a large artificial lake at Austin, Tex., formed by the damming of the Colorado river, and at the station whence the fish came a large supply is now on hand. It is the policy of the bureau to distribute each year an increasingly large proportion of fish which have been retained at the hatcheries until they reach the fingerling or yearling stages, which means that the output, being more mature, is better able to care for itself and is not so subject to the depredations of natural enemies.

Hydroplane a Freak.

The hydroplane of the day is a freak in every sense of the word. The various types of underbody construction are designed to give the boats lifting power, to lessen the draft under speed, and, consequently, the displacement —in other and plainer words, to lessen the amount of water that has to be pushed aside in the endeavor to make high speed. The hydroplane is the outcome of years of study by the best naval architects and marine engineers in freak-boat construction. Thousands of dollars are spent annually on these freaks, but many are thrown on the junk pile and the effort repeated. All of these boats are overpowered, as one would consider the needs of an ordinary boat. But extra power is added to gain a little extra speed. Thus one of the Atlantic coast owners is this year duplicating his power by adding a second motor to a 45-miler with the hope of adding an extra ten miles an hour to the speed. This may be termed freakishness, yet in the quest for the 60-miler all sorts of freakish things are being undertaken.

Auto Wins In Train Race.

After a mad race, covering 18 miles, between an express train on the Laurel line and a high-powered automobile, which had been requisitioned by Chief of Police Roberts of Wilkes-Barre, the latter captured a man accused of flimflam ming a Wilkes-Barrean as he stepped from a train in Scranton, Pa. The fugitive got away with a tenminute start, but the big racing car cut down the running time, and the officers were waiting at the station here for their man, who was taken back to W’ilkes-Barre. The running time of the train was 35 minutes, and the automobile traveled a little more than a mile a minute to overhaul it. —Scranton Dispatch to Philadelphia Record.

Height of Absurdity.

“Look at those two chumps having a heated argument about the merits and demerits of an automobile.” “Do you mean the two men examining a car across the street?’’ "Yes.” “Umph! To make matters worse, neither one owns the car they are wrangling about”

World's Tiniest Republic

SAN MARINO, the smallest republic in the world and the oldest, state in Europe, did not have to make formal declaration of war when it entered the great European struggle, for ever since the war of 1860 betwen Italy and Austria San Marino has been technically at war with the dual monarchy. It really consists of a mountain and three villages and has a population of about 10,000. It is difficult to take a complete roll of the inhabitants because of the fact that many of the men are employed in other parts of Europe. The republic has no railroad, the visitor having to ride four hours in a diligence from Rimini, an Adriatic coast resort city. The area of San Marino is 38 square miles. The highest point of the republic is Monte Titano, which rises a sheer cliff to more than 2,600 feet above the valley and, being a somewhat isolated spur to the east of the Apennines, is easily discernible from far out on the Adriatic and from the highlands of the Austrian border miles to the north. At the time of San Marino’s military glory several hundred years ago the cliffs and the strong wall that climbed along their edge to Titano’s summit were a defence against crossbows, javellne and catapults. Upon Monte Titano the people have dwelt ever since there was a San Marino; its three summits crowned by towers are emblazoned on the coat of arms over the gates, and around it have clustered all the traditicns and history of the state. St. Marinus here laid the foundation of the little nation some 1,600 years ago. Addison said that San Marino had a nobler origin than Rome, in that the latter was at first an asylum for robbers and murderers and the former “of persons eminent for piety and devotion.” According to tradition the founder of the state was a Dalmatian stonecutter named Marinus, , who after working for years at Rimini embraced Christianity and withdrew to Monte Titano to escape persecutions under

Diocletian. His fame as an austere anchorite reached the ears of the noble lady to whom it belonged and she presented the mount to him and in addition a tract of land, thinking that Marinus, as was usual, in those days, would found a monastery. He did this and more, for he founded a republic. Dying, he gave Titano to his disciples, recommending them never to abandon it and “to organize a civil society and live always in perfect communion and peace based upon principles of virtue.” Marinus was canonized after his death. His body now rests in the principal church in the republic and his fete, which is the most important in the land, is celebrated on September 3. Scenery Is Magnificent. San Marino lies about twelve miles from the Adriatic coast and about the same distance from Rimini. Across the country from north to south is seven miles; from east to west, about five, scarcely larger than Manhattan island. It is wedged in between the provinces of Urbino, Fesaro and Forli. From Rimini an excellent road leads to San Marino through a rich, beautiful plain covered with olive -trees and vines. As it ascends Monte Tl-. tano there is spread out a gorgeous panorama with the Apennines to the south and west and the Adriatic to the east, while far to the north stretches the Pineta that Boccaccio made famous In his “Decameron” and of which Byron sang in “Don Juan.” The road leads through the single gate into Borge, near the base of the mount, the chief commercial village of the state Here are the caves of Sat Marino’s wines, which a seventeenth century poet said were “so pleasing, pure, grateful and good that they have no cause to be jealous of the elarets of France." On one of the houses is a great sundial with this rather striking inscription in Italian that the people of, San Marino so frequently quote: “Thou art nothing without God and I am nothing without the sun.” The narrow streets climb upward

within the walls of the ancient citadel crowning the highest point of the mountain and to the small towers that mark the two other peaks. In the Pianello, the principal square, is the; favorite statue of the San Marinese, a giant figure of Liberty, and nearby is the government palace. This is a more or less pretentious Gothic building that would do credit to a much; larger and wealthier nation. Here is! conducted most of the public business! of the republic and here are the offices of the chief guardians of its affairs. Ruled by Great Council. The government of the republic is really in the hands of a great council of sixty, twenty nobles, twenty landowners and twenty peasants. The executive power is vested in two capitani reggenti, who are selected twice a year. With this short tenure of office there is not much of an opportunity for oppression by the executive, and with the close surveillance of the state accounts and treasury exercised by representatives of the council of sixty there is still less chance for graft by the officials. The judiciary is peculiar in that the judges are not chosen from among the people of Sap Marino, but from a foreign country. The last two judges, who have held office for two terms of three years each,, were members of the Italian bar. San Marino has’ ministers plenipotentiary and consuls, the same as any other European country. She has a legation at Paris, and consuls at Lyons, Bordeaux and Marseilles, and. she has a consul-general at Vienna and a consul at Trieste. Between the little republic and the United States an extradition treaty was ratified in 1907. The quarries of San Marino, from which a fine quality of building stone is obtained, have been a great training ground for artisans in this industry. The vineyards have developed a number of expert wine makers who spend part of their time every year in France and Spain. As these wanderers seldom give up their citizenship they are always to be counted.

upon to swell the ranks of the army or the roll of the voters. San Marino also has some salt mines which it uses to pay the captains regent a salary. The regents have the sajt monooply during their term of office. Since San Marino’s streets all run at some precipitous angle drainage and sewerage is no worry. Nature handles that. Few horses are owned in the republic and in many cases the family cows have to climb down stairways to get their daily pasturing. Life is not very exciting in this little republic. The people appear quite contented to look after their farms, stock and vineyards in much the same way as did their ancestors for generations past. The gathering of the vintage is a time for feasting and amusement, and the cattle sales are picturesque affairs to which the peasants bring their great mild-eyed oxen with coats groomed to a silvery gloss, necks and flanks decorated with ribbons and horns garlanded with flowers. The great events, however, are the September fete in honor of the patron saint, St Marinus, and the installations of the two capitani reggentl. On both occasions there are a mobilizing of the army and a review of the troops in the public square. At the Inaugural ceremonies the two outgoing and two incoming executives, in black velvet and court costumes, march from the government palace to the Church of San Marino, preceded by a military tand and a strong draft of the army in uniform of blue with bright yellow trimmings. While the history of the little republic has not been as full of wars and its devastations as that of Montenegro, the small nation just across the Adriatic, and while its existence has not been threatened by as mighty an enemy as the Montenegrins had in Turkey, yet San Marino has several times been drawn into war and ha* more than once been forced to fight for her freedom. The army of San Marino now consists of about 1,500) officers and men.