Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 169, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 July 1915 — Page 3

SEEING LIFE with JOHN HENRY

SAY! did you ever dream you were going to get a wonderful Christmas gift from a rich relation and wake up in the icehouse? Friend wife and I are not mercenary, but we did have a hunch that Uncle Peter would slip us an onyx clock with which we could hide the knotholes in our phoney mantelpiece, or an amethyst ash tray which we could use as a bathtub for the canary; but nothing doing! It was a sad blow to us that Christmas morning, because the old boy is upholstered with coin- He owns all the eagles on the gold pieces. He has pet names for them and keeps them cooped up like a flock of chickens. And all he sent us was a book,wortfl sixty cents net, written by a pretzel pen pusher named Helfenhelfen. I wanted to throw it out the window at a taxi driver engaged in exercising his engine for the benefit of those in the neighborhood who were sleeping late on Christmas morning, but Peaches had her shoes and stockings off and was wading through the flrst chapter. The book, she informed me, was a series of essays on reincarnation. Can you tie that for a Christmas present from a man to whom money comes crying like a child and begs to be put to sleep in his safety-deposit vaults? Reincarnation is a long, loose-look-ing word, and to a perfect stranger it haß a slightly suspicious sound, but its bark is worse than its bite. After reading about half a gallon of Helfenhelfen’s theories, Peaches began to bite her nails and make faces like a highbrow. “The idea of a person having been somebody else in a previous existence is interesting, isn’t it, John?” she gurgled. "I wonder who I was?” “You appeared first as the Queen of Sheba,” I told her; “and after chasing King Solomon up a sycamore tree you disappeared for several centuries and then you slipped into history’s moving pictures as Cleopatra, and I’ve a doggone good mind -to divorce? you for the way you carried on with Marc Antony.” “Oh, tush!” giggled Peaches. “Have some sense. Who do you think Hep Hardy was?” # “Hep!” I said, "why Hep originally was a katydid or a tree toad, probably both. Later on he appeared as a dancing dervish and made weekly pilgrimages to Mecca to fill himself and the goatskin with grape. Then he dropped out for several hundred years to get a new set of watertight compartments and finally reappeared as Joe Morgan in 'Ten Nights in a Barroom’ and he’s been playing that ever since.” “I don’t see why you can’t take this seriously," she pouted. "Herr Helfenhelfen’s book is very wonderful.” “So Js a Swiss cheese sandwich,” I ventured. “Did you ever stop to think how wonderful those holes are in a

“Are You All In?” David Inquired, After a Pause.”

Swiss cheese? How did they get there? You don’t find them in aCamembert, do you?” Peaches put up the storm signals and burned me with a baleful glance. “It’s easy enough to make fun of something you can’t do yourself," she snapped. We were on the verge of our first quarrel and all on account of an old German dope peddler, but it was up to me not to hoist the white flag If we were to live happily ever after. "Why, little bright eyes,” I said; “that’s the easiest thing I do. Writing essays on reincarnation is where I live. I can put old Oscar Sauer•kraut to sleep because I have the punch in every paragraph. Where’S my fountain pen? I’ll show you!” "Indeed!” was all she said as she flounced out of the room. So it was up to me to make good as an essayist or forever lose the title of Captain. So I dashed off the following globules of thought, left them on the center table where she’d be sure to find them, and moseyed into the kitchen to

by George V.Hobart

John Henry Gets a Present

see what surprises lay hiding in the ice chest. First Essay. David kept his boot heel on the neck of the fallen Goliath and laughed pleasantly. "Are you all in?” David inquired, after a pause. “I refuse to speak until you take your spurs out of my face,” replied the giant. ■ - David at once showed his obliging nature. "We shall meet again,” Goliath replied hoarsely. “Not if I see you flrst!” said David. . “I will take good care that you don’t," chuckled the expiring giant. “How?” was David’s interrogation. “It will be in the far, far future," said the giant. “You will then be one of the Common People walking in the streets.” “And you?” David asked. “I will be a chauffeur on a smoke wagon, and what I will do to you will be a pitiful shame,” responded the giant. Then with a bitter laugh the triumphant Goliath turned over and pushed his mortal coil off the shufflet(oard. Second Essay. The ghost of Julius Caesar looked threateningly at Brutus, the Stabbist Brutus sneered. “You,” he said; “to the mines!” Not one of Caesar’s muscles quivered.

Brutus used a short, sharp laugh. “You,” he said; “on your way!” Caesar never batted an eyelash. Brutus pointed to the rear. “Go way back,” he said, “and use your laziness.” Caesar pulled his toga up over his cold shoulder. Brutus laughed again, and it was the saucy, triumphant laugh of the man who dodges in front of a woman and grabs a seat on the elevated railroad. “The next time we meet you will not do me as you did me at the base of Pompey’s statue,” said the ghost of Caesar, speaking for the first time since we began this essay. “We will not meet again because I refuse to associate with you,” said Brutus. Caesar smiled, but it was without mirth, and as cold as the notice of suspension on the door of a bank. “Yes, we will meet again," said Caesar. “Where?” said Brutus. “In the far, far future,” said the ghost of Caesar shrlekingly. “You will be born into the world again by that time, and in your new personality you will be one of the Common People, and you will burn gas.” “And you?” inquired Brutus. “I will be the spirit which puts the wheels in- the gas meter, and may heaven have mercy on your pocketbook!” shrieked the ghost of Caesar. Brutus took a fit, and used it for

many minutes, but the ghost kept on shrieking in the Latin tongue. Third Essay. Napoleon stood weeping and wailing and gnashing his eyebrows on the battlefield of Waterloo. He was waiting for the moving; picture man to get his photograph. The victorious Wellington made his appearance, laughing loudly in his sleeve. * "Back, Nap! Back to the Boulevard des Dago!” commanded Wellington. v Napoleon put bis chin on his wishbone and spoke no word. “You," said Wellington; “you to the Champs Eliza! This IS my victory, mid you must leave the battlefield—it is time to close up far the night” "We Will meet again, milord,” answered Napoleon. "Avec beau temps lsi bong swat!” “What does that mean?” asked Wellington. “It means that the next time we meet I will do the swatting;” answered Napoleon bitterly. P- r ; ; v* •„ .

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, TNP.

“And when will that be?** inquired] Wellington, laughing loudly. “In the far, far future,” replied the little Corporal. “You will then be one of the Common People.” “And what will you be?” Wellington asked. “I shall be spirit of the High Cost of Living and I shall gnaw at your pocketbook until your appetite becomes a burden unbearable. Bon soir, mes.enfants, du spitzbuben!”* Then the little corporal called a cab and left Wellington flat on the battlefield. When I came back from the kitchen. I found Peaches in the front room hugging Helfenhelfen to her heart and laughing her yellow head off. "Like it?” I asked, swelling up with the pride of authorship. “Look!” she spluttered between laughs. “Look, John! Isn’t Uncle Peter a dear old fox! He wanted us to read this book and find thj real Christmas present. Look here, on page 173 he has neatly attached a thin little check for a thousand dollars! Isn’t he a darling?” “It’s worth that to read 173 pages of Helfenhelfen,” I squawked, to cover my confusion. Some Uncle, that old boy, and I take back anything I may have said about

“Look, John! Isn't Uncle Peter a Dear Old Fox?”

him in those dark moments before Helfenhelfen came across with the cush. After we sat there for two hours spending the money, I asked Peaches how my homemade essays stacked up with the German importations. “What essays?” she inquired blankly. “Why, I left them here on the table," I said. “Oh, that!” she cooed. “I thought that was a letter of apology so I threw it in the wastebasket without reading it, because an apology wasn't necessary.” Isn’t she the limit in Imported chiffon, I ask you?

HER SIDE OF THE CLOTH

Younger Sister Was Anticipating What in Time She Knew Would Be Hers. How often it is that the younger of two children in a family is at a disadvantage, in the matter of what is done for him, the clothes which he wears and the attention which he receives generally. It is sometimes pathetic, although occurring not so much from any real difference in the feelings of the parents for the two as from thoughtlessness and the natural order of thing 3. The handing down of clothes from older to younger, for example, is almost necessary in many a family, but it is a hardship for the younger one, nevertheless. One family once had two girls in exactly this situation, the younger being Just so much behind her sister in growth and development that it came perfectly natural that the elder’s dresses should fall to her lot in the course of time. And so it happened that all the new things were the older’s and the younger always had them made over for herself. One day the elder was told by her mother to go downtown and select some material which she liked for her graduation dress and bring it home for approval. Pull of glee, the girl started to go, when the younger spoke up in all seriousness: ‘Don’t you think I ought to go with her, mamma,” said she, "tq see if I like the other side?" It set the mother to thinking, and after that the younger got some new things of her very own.—Rochester, N. H., Courier.

How Shoe Peg Was Invented.

To a Massachusetts man, Joseph Walker, is due the credit of inventing the shoe peg. Previous to the year 1818 its use had not been known, and its inventor gave a new start to the manufacture of boots and shoes. Shortly after the introduction of this invention some unscrupulous parties are said to have tried to swindle the unsuspecting by endeavoring to sell shoe pegs as a new kind of oats. Up to 1818 boots and shoes had been sewed, and the peg, made first by hand, came in to revolutionize the trade. It was, however, the custom of shoemakers who lived away from the manufacturing centers to make their own pegs by hand even as late as 1880, but the machine-manufactured peg has nor superseded them. 1

A HAT AND A HEART

Charlie Graham Loses the One While in Pursuit of the Other.

By EMILY WINTER.

Charlie Graham's big gray motor car glided down the village street and paused before the door of Miss Artemisia Dodd’s millinery parlor. “Oh, Mr. Graham, I’m so sorry,” began Miss* Dodd, when he appeared in the doorway, “but your sister’s hat is not quite finished. If you don’t mind waiting five minutes.” She indicated a chair at the end of the counter. "Thank you, I’ll wait,” decided Charlie, and sat down in the obscurity of a tall screen. Miss Artemisia Dodd fluttered out and returned with the Mallowvillle Echo and, having once more apologized for keeping him waiting, she fluttered into the dim fastnesses of the workroom. If Charlie Graham had been inclined to listen to the buzz of conversation in the workroom he might have realized that the three little milliners were discussing him in what they believed to be guarded voices. What they said was flattering, however, to the son and heir of the Grahams, and, indeed, there was little ill that might be said of the fine, clean-cut youth who had won the respect and admiration of his friends by. choosing to carve out a career for himself instead of depending upon his rich and indulgent father. While the voices droned away in the workroom, Charlie glanced out at the dullness of the village street, yawned, stopped short in the middle of a second yawn and Btared through the lace curtains at a dainty face looking at the hats in the shop window. She stood on the sidewalk, outside, with a rather shabby little felt hat on her sunny head, looking critically at the creations which Miss Dodd was displaying for the enticement of customers.

Suddenly the girl disappeared, and Charlie withdrew his eyes reluctantly from the street. It was at this moment that he spied the hat. It was on a stand at his elbow and was an ambitious creation of Tuscan braid, with little bunches of pink rosebuds and blue forgetmenots, with a fascinating litle chin strap of velvet. “Jove! She would look adorable In that!” exclaimed Charlie enthusiastically. "But I expect the poor little thing couldn’t afford this cotfection! I’ve heard Stella say that Miss Dodd can make a Fifth avenue milliner blush when it comes to paying for value received!" A little later he added: “I wonder who she is? That felt hat was shabby enough—” The shop door opened softly and the girl in question came inside. ' Apparently she did not see him, for suddenly spying the lovely hat on the stand, she uttered a little gasping cry, picked it up, whirled it around on her hand, tossed off her own little felt hat, put on the straw one, adjusted strap under her dimpled chin, blew a nonchalant kiss at her reflection In the mirror and skipped out of the door. ,}s Charlie Graham stared for one bewildered moment at the felt hat she had tossed on the stand, and then, indignant at the bold act of piracy, he followed the charming shoplifter. The Tuscan straw hat was proceeding down the village street with apparent unconcern, but Charlie was convinced, with regret, that the lovely violet eyes were furtively watching to see if her theft had been discovered. “As soon as she reaches a safe corner she will run for it, or I’m no sleuth!” he decided, quickening his steps. The dainty figure ahead quickened its steps also, and as she reached Locust lane she turned and disappeared behind the high hedge that encircled the grounds on the corner. Charlie Graham, still in the interest of the victimized Miss Dodd, broke into a run. When he rounded Locust lane the wearer of the hat was sauntering slowly along the pleasant shaded pathway. But at the sound of his rapidly approacmng reet the girl turned her head, paused as if stunned at the Bight of her unexpected pursuer, and then she, too, ran fleetly, as if for her life. "The—little—imp!” gasped Charlie Graham, who was getting short of breath. The girl in the stolen hat gave him a pretty race. The west side of Locust lane was bordered all the way down to the bay by a high evergreen hedge, and behind that hedge was a great brick house which had been closed for many years. Charlie Graham followed the girl down the length of this hedge, believing that the gates would be locked as usual and that he must certainly overtake her before they reached the water’s edge.' But suddenly she swerved to the left and vanished through a narrow gate in the hedge. The gate was open and Charlie followed after, now gleefully certain of capturing his prize. He was galloping madly arouna a turn in the path, with a tantalizing glimpse of the hat beyond a tall shrub in the distance, when a newcomer appeared on the scene in the person of the former butler in the Graham household.

“Save me, Percival!” shrieked the fair criminal, grasping the astonished me" about his expansive waist

Percival opened his arms and Charlie plunged Into them, almost upsetting the stolid butler. “Mr. Charles!” shouted the butler in a horrified tone. “Are you—are you—are you—” "No, I’m not!" roared Charles, indignantly. “Please remove your hands, Percival!” "Excuse me, Mr. Charles, sir," coughed the servant, "but Miss Smith asked me to hold you—she is afraid — I don’t understand, sir,” he added helplessly. Charles looked over Percival’s broad shoulder and saw the frightened violet eyes glancing up at him. He nodded significantly at the hat "No use denying It,” he said impolitely and grimly. “I saw you take it. I was in Miss Dodd’s when you came in and took it. If you'll give it back to me, why. I’ll hush the matter up,” he concluded sternly. “You are too kind,” she said humbly, with downcast eyes. “I wilt do more than that, sir. I will go back to Miss Dodd’s with you and* take the hat!” “That would be the better way,” said Charles, quickly, and, Percival having mysteriously vanished, he followed the girl back to Locust lane. “I knew —er —you know —I could tell In a minute you were suddenly tempted, and —of course —it is a peach of a hat!” he explained sympathetically. A pair of sad violet eyes glanced at him from under the brim of the hat. “You think so?” she asked demurely, and, although he talked volubly all the way back to the millinery parlor, the wearer of Miss Dodd’s hat merely answered in monosyllables. She appeared depressed. Charles Graham felt more like a criminal himself than a clever young lawyer leading a wrongdoer to justice. “Don’t be afraid!” he whispered at her elbow as they neared Miss Dodd’s. “You are very kind!” She flashed a glance at him that he did not understand. An onlooker might have called it admiration, but Charlie, being modest, did not attempt to classify it. Once inside the shop, they both glanced at the hat stand. The little felt hat was gone! Curtains parted in the back of the room and Miss Artemisia appeared, smiling benevolently upon the young pair. “Your sister’s hat is all ready, Mr. Graham,” she nodded at him, “and how do you like your hat, Miss Chrissy?” She turned to the girl and touched the dainty headpiece with a professional finger. “It’s lovely, Miss Dodd!” cried the girl enthusiastically. She whirled around before the milliner’s admiring gaze and as she turned her mischievous eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of the sheepish countenance of a wretched young man.

"I found your felt hat on, the stand, Miss Chrissy,” went on Miss Dodd, “so I knew you’d been and taken your hat.” “I am delighted with It, Miss Dodd,” said the girl sweetly, "and if you will give me the bill —” her voice trailed into silence as she followed Mies Dodd to the desk in the corner. CharHe Graham took the opportunity to escape. His car tore up the avenue of the Graham place at a breakneck pace. Ethel Graham Jumped up from her chair as he paused before the veranda. “What is the matter, Charlie?" she demanded excitedly. “Say, do you know a girl named Chrissy?” was his answer. Ethel stared at him. “Are you crazy?" “I will be If you don’t answer,” he said positively. “There is Chrissy Smith —her folks have just returned to their old home —that brick place In Locust lane and—” Charlie groaned dismally. “You hayen’t run over her?" demanded Ethel tragically. "No —I ran after her,” confessed her brother, and then, relying upon his sister's loyalty as well as her sense of humor, he related the events of the afternoon.

"You poor thing!" gurgled Ethel when he had finished. “Wait until I get my coat and I will go with you and we can straighten it out.” And fifteen minutes afterward, as Charlie’s car glided down the sunlit length of Locust lane, they overtook Chrissy Smith entering the gate of her home. The dainty hat was poised on her charming head and when she saw the car and its occupants a beautiful color invaded her cheeks. “I hope you don’t think I stole anything but the hat," she laughed as they came up to her. “I am afraid you have, Chrissy.” said Ethel with mock gravity. “Charlie seems to have missed something.” (Copyright. 1915, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)

Thinking It Over.

“I want to see the government own everything,” said the discontented man. “Maybe It might be a good idea.” replied Mr. Dustin Stax. “I have a few things that I would like to sell it”

Nothing Odd About It.

"Another embezzlement, I see. Isn’t it odd that these are always committed by trusted clerks V “Not at all. The ones that are not trusted never get a chance at the money.”

Rather Busy.

Mother (to son who is still in bed, though It is after ten o'clock)—John, why don't you get up? John —I haven’t got tisre. —Mtoae* sota Minnehaha.

An Awkward Position

By REV. J.H. RALSTOM

SecreUry of Corapoodcac* DiufTwt, Moody Bible iixtituia of OiicMo

TEXT—Did I not see thee in the garden with him?—John 18:26. Peter’s position as indicated by this question depends on two or three

governor; Peter was in an outer hallway warming himself by a fire; one of the maids connected with the household of the governor recognized Peter as one that she had seen in the garden of Gethsemane with Jesus and Bhe at once accused him of being a disciple of Jesus by asking the question of the text. Out of the question that indicated Peter’s position grow some helpful suggestions. Companionship Indicates Discipleship. If Peter was with Jesus he was prima facie his disciple. When Jesus ■was gathering his disciples his frequent word was, “Follow mt>.” We read that Matthew left all and followed Jesus, and so with other disciples. “Sell that thou hast and follow me.” “Whosoever will come after me let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” We find that the disciples attached themselves to the person of Jesus because they were his disciples or learners, keeping within easy reach of the great teacher’s voice. Jesus Christ does not ask this mark of discipleship without guaranty of reciprocal companionship. He fulfilled to the letter the promise, “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.” Disciple Cannot Escape Recognition. Christians are marked men, not with the stigma such as- St. Francis fancied he carried, but with marks easily discovered by the world. A professor in a theological seminary, addressing a new class entering the institution, startled them by saying, “You are marked men.” They soon found out that on the streets, in the stores, in social circles and elsewhere, they were recognized as theologues. The disciples of Christ are usually marked by a public union with the Christian church and thus recognized as church members. The world primarily understands that church membership means true discipleship, however false many church members are to their vows; yet the least distinguishing mark of the Christian is his profession. He must bear about with him every day the marks of the Lord Jesus as Paul did. He must be always doing the will of God, gbing about doing good, manifesting his true character as a servant of all, and showing the spirit of selfsacrifice, even unto death. Test of Discipleship. The test of Peter’s discipleship here was the most trying one that could have been put on him, and at the same time it gave him an opportunity of showing the true fiber of his character and thus proclaiming hip loyalty to his master. It is not difficult to be a Christian on the Lord’s day or in the revival meeting, but it is difficult to be a Christian when one is surrounded by drunkards, profane swearers and the licentious. It was a hard thing for a believer to be a Christian in Rome, for that city was infamous in its immorality. It was hard for Peter to be sincere where he was, and this difficulty primarily had its root in his folly in being where he ought not to have been. The greatest pains the Christian suffers are the reproofs he receives from the world because of his inconsistencies. There is a peculiar delight among the people of the world In easting up the inconsistencies of Christians to them. Peter was true enough in the garden, but before the servants he was as false as a man could be. He was brave enough in the garden, but before the kitchen maid he was timid. But it is before the world that the best testimony can be made, indeed, it is the Christian’s business to witness in a world of sin. The testimony of the master himself was given in the world, and for two thousand years that testimony has stood and is as effective today as when first given. Even the memory of Jesus Christ, as we might say the tradition of Jesus Christ, has a place in the world that nothing else can take. Ea** of Apostasy. And there is an incidental suggestion in connection with Peter’s base denial, in that the step from close companionship with Jesus Christ to apostasy is not a long one. Peter was in a true sense a primate among the disciples, yet his base denial of his Lord is told as widely as the perfidy of Judas Iscariot himself. To rest in any relationship to Jesus Christ with too great confidence la dangerous.

things; the person to whom it was addressed, the person referred to in the closing pronoun, and the circumstances that the question involved. The person addressed was Pdter, the person referred'" to in the closing pronoun was Jesus, the circum stances were about these: Jesus was on trial before the Roman