Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 203, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 August 1915 — Page 2

SEEING LIFE with JOHN HENRY

SAY! Did you ever »it around tn the Pullman Car and study a few paragraphs from the world's most far moua text book —human nature? Oo after It the first chance you get —you'll learn at lot. Fbr instance, during a trip recently on one of Mr. Pullman’s sleep-wagons 1 soon learned that the brisk and breexy crew In the seats around me were commercial travelers, and they were fanning each other with fairy tales about the goods they sold. I learned that the one who looked Uki a human apple was affectionately known as Slim because he's so fat that every time he turns around he meets himself coming back. And It wasn't hard to learn that the tall one with the sandy hair was Nick Dalrymple, who goes after the orders for a hardware house in Columbus and knows everybody in the world—bar one family living in Yonkers. Then there was Tod Gilpin, who cuts ice for a match factory in Newark, and he's the life of a small party. Tod's main hold is to creep into the “reading room" of a Rube hotel after the chorea are done of an evening and throw salve at the come-ons. Tod tells them that their town is the brightest spot on the map, and they warm up to him and want to buy him sarsaparilla and root beer. Then when he gets them stuck on themselves he sells them matches. Presently I learned that the party with the mauve forehead and the magenta mustache was Mutt Dawson—the most reckless spendthrift with his words and the meanest man to the English language I ever listened to. The Dream Builders’ Association was in full session when Wedge Murray caromed over and weighed-in with the party. Wedge is a saucy little party, five foot four, with three foot shoulders. I learned that Wedge sells canned shirt waists for the Shine Brothers, and if he’s ever let into the firm it will be as a brother. Wedge is one of those goose-headed ginks who scratch gravel and start In to make a killing every time they see a pretty girl. Across the aisle sat two pet ca-

“The Moment I Put My Weight on It my Stepping-Stone Gave Way."

naries from Plainfield, New Jersey. They were members of the Soubrette Stinging Society, and they were en route to the West to join the “Bunch of Birds Burlesque Company.” Their names were Millie and Tillie, and they wore Feather Duster hats, Millie was fully aware that she could back Duse off the map, and Tillie was ready to bet a week’s salary that she could make Bernhardt feel like she was out jji the storm we had day before yesterday. Tod called them the Roast-Beef Sisters, Rare and Well-done. In a minute the castors on Wedge’s neck began to turn. Nick put the others wise with a wink, so they lit the fire and began to cook it up. Wedge's heart was warming for the birds in the gilded cage. "Nothing into it!” Bald Slim. “It's a plain case of Appomattox. The war is over and they are yours, Wedge!” Wedge turned a few more volts into his twinkling lamps. "Lower your mainsail. Wedge, and drop alongside; you’ve made the landing,” suggested Nick. Wedge began to feel his necktie and play patty-cake with the little bald spot on the top of his head. '■ "Stop the hansom and get out; you’re at your corner,” said Tod. The Sweet Dreams across the way were giving Wedge the glorious eyeroll, and he felt that dinner was ready. “Hang up your hat. Wedge, and gather the myrtle with Mary!” Slim chipped in. Then Wedge bounced over and began to show Millie and Tillie what a handsome brute he was at dose quar- : - - ' .'3

by George V.Hobart

John Henry on Human Nature

He sat on the arm of the seat and steamed up. In less than a minute he crowded the information on them that he was a millionaire who had escaped from Los Angeles, California, and he was Just going to put them both in grand opera, when Slim toddled over to him and said; “Next stop Erie! You told me to remind you to send that telegram to your wife in Logansport.” Curtain. Of course the fact that Wedge didn’t have a wife In Logansport or elsewhere made no difference. He couldn’t prove an alibi, so he faded out into the day coach and became as one who isn't. The Roast-Beef Sisters seemed to be all carved up about something or other. While these more or less grin-pro-ducing incidents were occurring there was ever present in my own noodle the grim reality that bedtime was approaching and I had drawn an upper berth. Say! I’ll be one of a party of six to go before Congress and tell all I know about an upper berth. As a place to tie up a small bundle of sleep a boiler factory has it beat to a whimper. Strong men weep every time the ticket agent says, “Nothing left but an upper,” and lovely women have hysterics and begin to make faces at the general public when the colored porter points up in the air and says, “Madam, your eagle's nest is ready far up the mountainside." While the porter was cooking up my attack of insomnia I went out In the smoking room to drown my sor-. row, but I found such a bunch of sorrow killers out there ahead of me that I had to hold the comb and brush In my lap and sit up on the towel rack while I took a little smoke. Did you ever notice on your travels that peculiar hog on the train who pays two dollars for a berth and always displaces eight dollars’ worth of space in the smoking car? If he would bite the end of a piece of rope and light up occasionally he wouldn't be so bad, but nix on the smoke for him. He simply sits there with a face like a flsh and keeps George Nicotine

and all the real rag burners from enjoying a smoke. If ever a statue is needed of the patriot Buttinski I would suggest a model in the person of the smokeless smoker who always travels in the smoking car. Two busy gazabes were discussing politics when I squeezed into the smoker on this particular occasion, and I judge they both had lower berths; otherwise their minds would have been busy with dark and personal fears of the future. "Well,” exclaimed the gabby one from Kansas City, “what is politics? Well, what is It?” "Politics,” replied Wise Willie from “politics is where we get it —sometimes in the bank, sometimes in the neck!” Everybody present peeled the cover off a loud laugh and the smokeless hog at the window stole four inches extra space so that he could shake more when he giggled. "Well,” resumed the inquisitive person from Kansas City, "what is a politician? Do you know? Eh, well, what is a politician?” “A politician," replied the fat man from Providence, “a politician is the reason we have so much politics.” Much applause left the hands of those present, and the smokeless hog turned sideways so that he could make the others more uncomfortable. “Perhaps,” Insinuated gabby Jim from Kansas City, “perhaps you know what a statesman is, eh?” “A statesman Is a politician In good lack,” was the comeback from our fat friend from Providence, and in the enthusiasm which followed the smokeless hog found out there was no

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND,

buffet car on the train, so he offered to buy tbe drinks. “Don’t you believe that all men are born equal?” Inquired the Kansas Cityite. “Yes, but some of them have pun enough to get over it,” responded the Providence philosopher; whereupon the smokeless hog by the window took out a flask and began to dampen his conscience. Just then the towel rack fell with a crash, and after I picked up the comb and brush and myself I decided to retire to my bracket on the wall and try to sleep. When I left the smoker the smokeless hog was occupying two and a half seats and was now busy breathing in some second-hand cigarette smoke which nobody seemed to care for. “How do I reach my Alpine bungalow?" I said to the porter, whereupon he laughed teethfully and hit me on the shins with a stepladder. The spectacular gent who occupied the star chamber beneath my garret

“Their Names Were Millie and Tillie."

was sleeping as noisily as possible, and when I started up the stepladder he began to render Mendelssohn’s obbligato for the trombone in the key of G. Above the roar of the train from away off in lower No. 2 faintly I could hear an answering bugle call. I climbed up prepared for the worst and in the twinkling of an eye the porter removed the stepladder and there I was, sitting on the perilous edge of my pantry shelf with nothing to comfort me save the exhaust of a professional snorer. After about five minutes devoted to a parade of all my sins, I began to try to extract my personality from my coat, but when I pushed my arm up in the air to get the sleeve loose my knuckle struck the hardwood finish and I fell backward on the cast-iron pillows, breathing hoarsely like a busy jackrabbit. I waited about ten minutes while my brain was bobbing back and forth with the excitement of running fifty miles an hour over a careless part of the country, and then I cautiously tried to approach my shoe laces. Say! If you’re a man and you weigh in the neighborhood of 200 pounds, most of which is in the region of the equator, you will appreciate what It means to lie on your back in an upper berth and try to get your shoes off. And this goes double for the man who weighs more than 200 pounds. Every time I reached for my feet to get my shoes off I bumped my head off; so I decided that in order to keep my head on I had better keep my shoes on also. Then I tried to divorce my suspenders from my shoulders but just as 1 got the suspenders half way over my head I struck my crazy bone on the rafters, and there I was, suspendered between heaven and earth, but praying with all my heart for a bottle of arnica.

Finally I decided to sleep as nature made me, with all my clothes on. Including my rubbers. So I stretched out, but just then the train struck a curve and I went up in the air till the celling hit me, and then I bounced over to the edge of the precipice and hung there, trembling on the verge. Below me all was dark and gloomy, and only by the hoarse groans of the snorers could I tell that the Pullman company was still making money. Luck was with me, however, for Just then the train struck an in-shoot curve which pushed me to the wall, and I bumped my head so completely that I fell asleep. When I woke np a small package of daylight was peeping into the car, so I decided to descend from my cupboard shelf at once. I peeped out through the aluminum curtains, but there was no sign of the colored porter and the stepladder was invisible to the naked eye. The car was peaceful now, with the exception of a gent In lower No. 4, who had a strangle hold on a Beethoven sonata and was beating the cadenze out of it. I made a short prayer and concluded to fall out, but just then one of my feet rested on something solid; so I put both feet on it and began to step down. Alas, however, the moment I put my weight on it my stepping stone gave way and I fell overboard with a splash. t “How dare you put your feet on my head?” yelled the man on the ground noor of my bedroom. “Excuse me. It felt like something wooden,” I whispered, while I dashed madly for the smoker. ,From that day to this I bare never been able to look a Pullman car In the face, and whenever anybody mentions an upper berth to me I loee my presence of mind and get peevish. If you have ever been there yourself I know you don’t blame mot Do you?

ART IN WEARING VEIL

FRENCH WOMAN HAS BROUGHT IT'TO PERFECTION. Adjustment and Care of These Important Little Accessories of the Toilet Are Worthy of the Most Careful Btudy.

A close-fitting little hat on windy or rainy days Is completely covered with a veil drawn up into the center of the crown like a filet with which we go marketing, writes a Parisian correspondent A nautical person described these young women as “neat little craft,” and they really look so workmanlike and tidy that they would certainly brave the weather by sea or land and never fear to look untidy, for there is no vulnerable spot tn the hat and veil, in the coat, or in the tight skirt and high laced boots. It is the veil in this picture which Is interesting, for the fine weather must do away with the weather coat and the high boots; but the veil will merely change its movements. Apparently this feminine necessity or adornment is to play quite an important part in women’s dress this summer. To know just what to do with a veil and when to do it means selfpossession and a sense of beauty. A' Frenchwoman rarely turns up her veil unless it be one of the very heavy mourning ones; she takes it off, knowing that a veil tui?ied up leaves an ugly line either across the brow or on the nose. Neither does she twist It into a funny little knot under her chin, because she is conscious that it looks untidy and is bad for the veil. She adjusts it on her hat so that it can be quickly and easily taken off, and she pins It over her hair precisely so that she knows where to find the pins when the taking off moment arrives. It sounds such a little thing and is, in very fact, a trifle light as air, but it is one of the details that may just as well be mastered. Some of the veils now are of the finest lace, very filmy and becoming; others are in almost invisible net, and a few women wear the strongly patterned veil. So much depends upon which kind of veil suits a woman best. Some women lose all distinction in a heavy veil; others seem to gain their distinction from it. A safe veil is the fine meshed one in black, for it keeps errant hairs within bounds and it merely softens without dulling tho tints of the skin. It is also inexpensive.

STYLE OF DRESS SIMPLE

Frenoh Woman Does Without Many Things That Are Considered Essential by Americans. Nowhere in the world do fashions In dress spread so rapidly, or make their influence felt in such diverse social circles, as in America, and nowhere in the world do cheap imitations of a new mode flood the market so swiftly. It is only of recent years in France that the wives of small shopkeepers, skilled artisans, and the less important employees of great enterprises like railroads have ever possessed such a thing as a hat. Even now they shop and market without one as often as not. The wife of a man in a quiet, well established, flourishing business will stick to her plain black gown with a big blue apron over it in the morning, uncovered, well-ar-ranged hair, and serviceable shoes and plain stockings, and never change her mode of dress, winter or summer. If she is employed, as she so often is, at the caisse as bookkeeper for her husband, she will usually leave off the apron; and nowadays on Sundays and fete days she usually dons a plain hat. But she has no summer gowns, no

PAQUIN COAT SUIT

This Coat Suit, by Paquin, is Made of Green Cloth Trimmed With Green Velvet and Braid.

~ ▲ woman never outgrows her emo-tions—-she wears them out.

FROM STYLES OF 1862

These Costumes Are Designed From Frocks Worn by Little French Girls in 1862. On the Left Is a Child’s Frock of Green Taffeta Trimmed With Bands of Black Velvet. Next to It Is a Young Girl’s Costume Made Up of a Brown Serge Jacket With a Brown and White Checked Skirt. The Next Frock Bhows a Blue Velvet Jacket With a Blue and White Striped Skirt

blouses, no lace-trimmed underwear, no silk petticoats, no imitation pearls, no slippers or silk stockings, and no white gloves. For her the accessories of dress do not exist. All the pennies which they cost her American cousin she saves toward her daughter’s dot.

THINGS WOMEN ARE WEARING

To Be With the Elect, One Must Keep These Facts Constantly in the Mind. Sleeveless silk sweater coats are a welcome novelty, for they solve the problem of giving a little warmth without giving too much. Awning stripes in silks are used for shirtwaists for morning and sports wear. - A large and long black bow attached to the back of a high plaiting is one of the latest fads. Dainty, airy hats of haircloth come in pink, white, blue, tan and gold. The shapes are flat and picturesque. Petticoats are made of pretty flowered material or of plain white, with ruffles of flowered materiaL Costly embroideries seem to be entirely out of the question on the summer gowns. Tiny frills of lace and net alternately distinguish some of the summer models. Most of the pongee coats have detachable collars and cuffs of contrasting silk. With the passing of spats for the summer all sorts of fancies come to take their place —shoes with white tops, shoes with white-striped tops and shoes with gray tops. With frocks of checked silk separate coats of dark silk are extremely chic. Some full sleeveless bodices have ruffles set in the armhole in lieu of sleeves. Revers of tucked and ruffled net are seen inside the revers of long silk coats. Silk handbags are much in vogue and black-and-white effects are among the smartest.

Piped Edges for Skirts.

Scalloped and piped edges on skirts and jackets have much to do with the charm of the present fashions. This revival is a pleasant one, as it adds a piquant note of contrast to a costume.

WAY FOR THE PANCAKE .HAT

That Style Is the Latest Note in Millinery That Is Thought Worth Consideration. “Have you seen the pancake hat?“ asks a -fashion expert. The very latest recruit in the millinery forces is the pancake hat. “These hats are flat little affairs of straw, tulle or silk, and since the crowns are too shallow to fit the head they are held to the side of the head by means of a band of ribbon, velvet or tulle. “Of course, the ends are tied beneath the ear or chin, and the pancake is worn at a decidedly rakish angle—else milady is not up-to-the-minute in fashion. "Everyone whom I have seen wearing a ‘pancake’ seems beaming with good humor,” adds this writer, “and I’m inclined to believe that this little oddity of the season bears with it the power to keep one brimful of merriment —no one could be ill-natured or grumpy with a pancake perched on the side of one’s head.”

Popularity of Braid.

Since the debut of braid trimmings to emphasize the military lines of suits, dresses and blouses, the popularity of the various braids has been increasing every minute. One cannot go wrong if a few rows of narrow braid or one row of very wide braid is used to elaborate a costume. The liberty to use brain trimmings gives a woman an opportunity to add a bright touch to an otherwise somber outfit 1

Messages From the Cross

Br REV. GEORGE E. GUILLE

BUalMMtaciCtikaeo

TEXT—And they crucified him. Matt. 11:36. No one can read this story without being struck by the artless manner

delights to tell. And thus he has written down, as a part of Holy Scripture, certain things that transpired, that, wherever the story of the cross should be told, these things must be told in connection therewith. Let ns look at three of these. The Place. First, then, the place of the crucifixion will speak to us. “And when they were come unto a place called Golgotha, that is to say, the place of a skull.” There, at the "place of a skull”—the utter wreck of human wisdom, did they put to death the “Wisdom of God.” “For of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who has made unto us wisdom from God.” The world boasts of its wisdom today, boasts of the achievements of science and philosophy, but for the most real problems—sin and death, it has found no solution, nor has it taught us anything about God. “The world by wisdom knew not God.” “And the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness.” Herein Is the offense of the cross, that it sets aside all of man's wisdom forever, as well as all his glory. The Greeks were wisdom worshipers, but at Corinth the apostle would know nothing “save Jesus Christ and him crucified,” the cross in all Its marvelous attractiveness for hearts enlightened from above, in all its intolerable repulsiveness for unregenerate men. Modern rationalism despises the cross, but the humblest believer in it has found it to be what the apostle declares, “The power of God and the wisdom of God.” The Crown of Thorns. The last king of David’s line to be crowned at Jerusalem is crowned with thorns. In derision they crown him, but the Spirit of God wrlteß it down, for that crown symbolizes the curse which he has come to put away. In Gonesis 3 we read* of the curse pronounced upon creation because of man’s sin: "Cursed is the ground for thy sake . . . thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth unto thee.” Thorns, then, have become the emblem of the curse of sin, and now we see them on the Savior’s brow. “In sorrow,” goes on the pronouncement, “shalt thou eat of it,” but the. One who wears the crown of thorns is the “Man of Sorrows,” saying, as he goes to the cross, “Now is my soul exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.” “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,” and of him who hangs on the cross it is written, “His sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling from him.” So the thorns are telling of what he is made for us: “Christ hath delivered us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us, as it is written, cursed is everyone that hangeth on a tree.” “Made a curse!” flow simple to utter the words; how unutterable the depth of their meaning! The Supernatural Darkness. “The darkness sought his woes to hide,” is a beautiful hymn which sometimes we sing, but it does not explain that awful darkness. That “darkness over all the land” is witness that God, who is light, has withdrawn his presence from a scene in which he can have no part. And it was a faint outward expression of a deeper darkness that pressed upon the Savior’s soul. And thus his own cry interprets it: “My God, my (Sod, why hast thou forsaken me?” And there is no answer from God. Where shall we find the answer to that cry of forsaken sorrow? We have but to turn to the Twenty-second Psalm, from which it is quoted, and there we shall find the Holy Sufferer answering his own question. “Thou art holy, oh, thou who fnhabitest the praises of Israel.” God is holy and he turns away. “Thou art of purer eyes than to behold iniquity and canst not look upon sin.* Christ in the darkness, Christ forsaken of God is Christ “made sin.” “He hath made him to be sin for us.” And this-eras his anguish. To Calvary they take him, as unfit to die within the holy city. “For the bodies of those beasts whose blood is brought into the sanctuary by the high priest for sin, are burned without the camp. Wherefore Jesus also, that he might sanctify the people with his own blood, suffered without the gate.” Christ on Calvary, Christ abandoned, is the true sin offering. (

In which it is told. The writer, if left to his own wisdom, would have filled page after page, omitting no detail and adding imposing imagery of every kind to heighten the effect. The Spirit of God is the narrator of these events and in them he is telling the story which, however slow men may be to hear, he most