Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 211, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 September 1915 — Page 2

SEEING LIFE with JOHN HENRY

IF YOU’LL look real clow you’ll find Splaahburg on a map of the middle West It** a railroad junction where carelaa* travelers change car* and wait for the other train, which la always late. L . L . ’ ▲ week ago I happened to be one of those careless travelers, marooned tn Splashburg, and having a wicked hour or two to kill I strolled over to the Commercial House. Steb Stephens is the name of the head clerk at the Commercial House tn Splashburg. Steb has been throwing keys at the wall for a long time and he know* how to burn the beefer*. He played the Big Time once. Yes, year* ago he was a bell hop at the old Willard in Washington and after that he jumped to Chicago as night porter at the old Sherman House; so what Step doesn't know about the hotel business isn't worth whimpering overtSteb gave me a brief outline of hie life’s history and was just starting tn to tell me about the battle of the Civil War in which his father was shot and who shot him when a feverish old party with Persian rug trimmings on the end of his chin squeezed up and began to let a peep out of him about the pie he had eaten for ner.“Calm yourself," said Smiling Steb, “and tell me where it bit you.” ‘‘Bit me! Bit me!" snarled the Old Party with the tapestry chin piece. “Nothing of the kind, sir! I want you to know, sir, that your pi* wasn't fit to eat, sir!" “Cut it out!" suggested Steb. ’•Cut it out, sir! How can I cut It out when I’ve eaten it, sir? It's an outrage, and I shall leave this hotel tomorrow," said Omar Khayyam. "With the exception of 131.72, balance due, thgt will be about all from you,” said Sub. “I’ll see th* proprietor,” said the Old Party, moving away with a face op him like four dollars in bad money. “We get it good and plenty every day,” said Steb, and just then something about six feet tall, wearing a slouch hat and a gilt mustache, fell against the counter, grabbed the register and buried a stub pen in its pages. After looking over the result, I decided the stranger's first name must be Spider, because it loked like one on the register. “Bath?” queried Steb. “Only during a hot wave," said Spider. “Going to be with us long?” inquired Steb. “Say, Bub, you're wearing medals

“Remember Those Nice White Doorknobs We Ate for Breakfast Next Morning?”

for asking questions, now ain’t you?” answered Spider. “You just push me into a stall and lock the gate. I'm tired.” “Front! Show this gentleman to 49!” said Steb, sidestepping to avoid punishment. Then Sweet William, the Boy Drummer, hopped into the ring for the next round. Willie peddles pickles for the fun he gets out of it It is Willie's joy and delight to get • ginger-ale bun on and recite “Ostler Joe." When trained down to 95 flat, Willie can get up and beat the clapper off "Curfew Shall Not Ring To-night.” “Any mail?” inquired Willie. AU the mail that Willie ever gets is a postal card from the pickle factory every two weeks asking him if the people along his route have all lost their appetites. “No literature for you," Steb answered. “Strange," said WilUe, “my lady friends are very remiss, aren't they?" ! “Yes; it looks like they were out to drop you behind the piano,” said Steb. Willie tore off a short rabbit laugh, then inquired what time the next train left for New York. The pickle factory expects Willie to make Pocomoke City, Squashtown Junction and NubbinsvUle before next Sunday, no he tossed the train gag out just to show Steb that he knows there's a place called New York

by Geoige V. Hobart

John Henry and the Troupers

“At 7:45 over the D. L. & Q.," said Steb. “Whgt’s next?” inquired Willie. "At 8:10 over the H. B. & N.," Steb answered. “Which get* there first?" Willie asked. "The engineer,” sighed Steb. “Oh, you droll chap," said the picklepusher; “give me some toothpicks." Then Sweet William went over to the big window, burrowed into a chair, stuck his feet up on the brass rail, ate toothpick* and thought he was IT. When I got back to Steb he was dealing out the cards to a lady from Reading, Pa. Her husband had been up in the air with a bum automobile, and when he came down he was several sections shy. She was traveling for his health. “My room Is immediately over the kitchen," she Informed Steb. “The cook hasn't made a kick up to now," Steb went back at her. She started a get-back, but her Indignation choked her so she gave Steb the Society sting with both eyes and flounced out. Steb bit the end off a penholder and said the rest internally. Just then a couple of troupers trailed in. They were with the “Bandit’s Bride C 0.,” and the way had been long and weary. “What have you got—double?” asked the villain of the piece. “Two dollars and up!” said Steb. "Nothing better?” inquired Low Comedy. He was making a crack, but nobody caught him. “Four dollars, with bath,” Steb suggested. "Board?" asked the villain. “Nothing but the sleeps and a fresh cake of soap,” said Steb. “Ring down!” Low Comedy put in. “Why, we lived a whole week in Pittsburg for less than that” “You can turn the same trick here if you carry your own cake and sleep in the Park,” said Steb. “What’s the name of this mint?” asked the villain. Steb told him. I followed the two troupers out to the dinky barroom, because it looked about eight to one they’d pull a few wheezes and I’d get a few guffs. “The woods for ours! Isn’t this a bird of a place for a show to get stranded?” groaned the Low Comic, as he gave the Reub bartender the high sign, and the latter pushed forward two glasses and a black bottle. “I tell you, Mike,” the Juvenile went on, “I’m too delicate for this one-night

stand gag. I’m going to New York to build a theater." “What with?" sneered Low Comedy. “With a reporter I know on one of the papers,” the Juvenile chuckled. “Say, what was the name of that town we played night before last?” “Murphy’s landing, wasn’t it?” Mike answered. “Stranded here in this jay town!” The Juvenile grabbed the black bottle and upset it again. “Say, Mike, what we need is a guardian. And while we’re at it let’s pick out one with money so we can wire him for a little price to help us out on occasions like this. The next manager that wins me away from the stockyards will have to wear a gold-plated overcoat and stand in the wings every night where he can throw temdollar bills at me when I make my exit. No more slob impresarios for mine, with nothing in their inside pockets but a date book and a hearty appetite.” , “Same here!" Low Comedy nodded. "The next manager that picks me out will have to drag me down to his bank and let me pick his coupons off the shelf before I’ll sign.” “Bumped good and hard, here in the tan grass,” the Juvenile complained again, “and not a cookie in the lunchbasket. Say ! It has me winging, all right, and that's no idle hoot! This is the third troupe that blew out its mainspring for us this season, and Pm beginning to believe we ought to get vaccinated. How am I going to do

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

Hamlet tn New York this winter, rd like to know? Eight week* since we left Chicago, three shows to the bad, and still a thousand miles from the Great White Way. Say, Mike, at this rate it’ll take about 629 show* to get us to Jersey City. Are you hep?”. Mike laughed. "It’s the old story, my boy; we’re a sad bunch of plowboy* on this old farm of a world when we haven’t a laittle mazuma in the vest pocket I’ve got a new bit of recitation spiel I cooked up last night when I couldn’t sleep. It’s called “Knock and the World Knocks With You," and I’ll put you jerry to it right now before it gets cold: Knock, and the world knocks with you. Boost and you boost alone! When you roast good and loud You will find that the crowd Has a hammer as big as your own! Buy, and the gang is with you; Reneg, and the game's all off; For the lad with the thirst Will see you first If you don’t proceed to cough! Be rich and the push will praise you. Be poor and they'll pass the ice. You’re a warm young guy When you start to buy— You're a slob when you lose the price! Be flush and your friends are many. Go broke and they'll say ta, tai While your bank account burns You will get returns. When it’s out you will get the ha! Be gay and the mob will cheer you, They'll shout while your wealth endures; Show a tearful lamp And you’ll see them tramp— And it’s back to the woods for yours! There's always a bunch to boost you While at your money they glance; But you’ll find them all gone On that cold gray dawn When the fringe arrives on your pants! “You’ve got the game of life sized to a showdown,” was the Juvenile’s comment. At this point Jabe, the Reub bartender, pointed a freckled finger at

“Let a Peep Out of Him About the Pie He Had for Dinner."

Mike and butted In with: “Say, you be the fat cuss that cut up with that troupe at the Op’ry House last night, been’t you?” “No, I’m the skeleton man with a circus," Mike answered, and the bartender roared with delight, “I was at the Op’ry House last night,” Jabe Informed them, “and I ’most laughed myself sick to the stomach at this yere fat cuss takln* off that Dutch policeman—ha, ha, ha, ha!” Jabe looked at the Juvenile'. “You was putty good, too,” he admitted, “takln’ off that newspaper reporter and rescuin’ the girl from the burnin’ structyure, but you didn’t do no funny fall and bust your galluses like this fat cuss—ha, ha, ha, ha!” “Get him to unhook the laugh; he’s a good steady listener,” whispered the Juvenile, and Mike started in. “Fine town this,” Mike began. “All the modern improvements, eh? Cows wear nickel-plated bells, streets paved with grass, and the river has running water.”

“Ha, ha, ha. ha!” Jabe roared. "Reminds me of a place we struck out in Missouri last winter,” Mike •went on. “Same style of public architecture, especially the town pump. But the hotel there was the hit with us. It was called the Declaration of Independence because the proprietor had married an Englishwoman and wanted to be revenged. At supper time I ordered a steak, and they brought me a leather hinge covered with gravy, so I got up to add an amendment to the Declaration of Independence. The head waiter was an ex-pugilist, so he put the boots to me and covered my amendment with bruises. Then he made me eat the leather hinge, and for two weeks I felt like a garden gate and I used to slam every time the wind blew.” Jabe’s laugh shook the building. “The proprietor of that hotel was so patriotic," Mike continued, “that he wouldn’t number the rooms like an ordinary hotel. Every room was named in honor of a President of the United States. That evening there happened to be a rash while I was standing near the desk, and I heard the clerk say: 'Front, show these gentlemen up to John Quincy Adams and tell the porter to take that trunk out of the alcove In 'Thomas Jefferson. Front, go and put down that window in Rutherford B. Hayes, and, here, take this whisky up to Abraham Lincoln. Front, what’s all that racket in James Buchanan? Here, take these cigars to U. S. Grant, and turn off the gas in Teddy Roosevelt’ But I nearly fainted when he said, * ‘Front, run a sofa into James A. Garfield, and take this lady up to George Washington.’” When I quit them to take my train Mike had worn finger marks on the side of the black bottle and Jabe had signed a verbal contract to go on the stage as the Juvenile's dresser. All of which goes to prove that Splashburg isn't so bad provided you don't have to wait very long for a train out

MARTHA’S MINIATURE

Alan Fought for His Own Happiness—And Won. By CATHERINE COOPE. (Copyright, 1915, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Alan Doble sighed heavily as he hung up the telephone. He had rung up his fiancee’s studio, only to find out from the maid that Martha was out and would not return until dinner time. “Which means,” Alan told himself half bitterly, “that my sweetheart is at the matinee worshiping at the shrine of her Idol.” For many weeks Alan had been aware of the fact that Martha had been drifting away from him. She did not love him in the deep, true sense of the word or she could not have fallen a victim to the undoubted charm of John Ward, the fascinating actor of the day. Alan’s love for Martha was as undying as the day Itself, and It hurt him to realize that the girl whom he had expected to call his wife and for whom all his future had been planned was finding her happiness elsewhere than in his love. Martha had flirted from time to time during their brief engagement, but never before did Alan feel that his position in her affections had been jeopardized. Now, however, it seemed that Martha had really been lost to him. So completely absorbed was Martha in the worship of John Ward that she had painted a most beautiful miniature of the actor from a magazine photograph and wore it almost every hour of the day. The exquisite little locket lay against her heart, a constant source of pain to Alan Doble. Martha did not know that Alan had stolen a glance into the locket during a chance moment, nor that he wished with 7 all his heart that she could meet the actor. Perhaps the disillusionment would follow, and if not then certainly his fate would be sealed in regard to Martha’fc affections. But a meeting did not come about even in the atmosphere of the studio. Martha worshiped in secret and in secret Alan grieved. He felt, as time wore on and there seemed no lessening of the interest his sweetheart was showing regarding the actor, that he must do something to precipitate an outcome to the situation. Alan had never from the beginning taken the position of adviser to Martha, nor had he felt called upon to dictate her actions. Perhaps had he been more strict, in a sense, Martha’s affections would have been secure. She might have feared to arouse jealousy in the bosom of her easy-going Alan. As It was she went her way flirting where she chose and only feeling a certain sense of security about Alan and her future. She did not trouble especially to weigh her emotions nor to speculate as to what another day might bring forth. Through genuine talent Martha had made for herself an enviable position among miniature painters. Had she been a mere nobody in the intellectual wbrld Alan would have considered himself capable of guiding her, but she had won success entirely unaided and he felt it unnecessary to advise her, much as he thought she needed it. Alan realized, with a sinking of the heart, that Martha’s interest in John Ward was developing rather than waning. A crisis was surely at hand. Alan was not the man to marry a girl who only half loved him. He must either break with Martha or win her entire self. It was during one of Martha’s popular Sunday afternoon teas that she first discovered the loss of her prized locket with the miniature of John Ward in it. Her heart pounded against her side when she discovered that it was gone, and in imagination she saw herself taunted by her secret admiration for an actor. All of her friends would learn of her infatuation, for no one could fail to know that the miniature was her own. Her famous touch was not to be denied. For once in her life Martha shrank from the fame that was hers and the disclosures following in the wake of the finding of her locket. Instinctively she realized that Alan Doble would not want to take up his life path with a girl who wore another mail’s picture. She shrank, too, from his scorn and for a second blamed John Ward for the entirely unconscious part he was playing in her life maneuvers. Martha refrained from making inquiry about her locket, but after her guests had departed made minute search in every remote corner of the studio. The locket, however, was lost and with it had gone Martha's peace of mind. The fear gripped her that it might fall into the hands of John Ward and Martha’s shame would know no end. Naturally, one finding it and recognizing the well-known actor, the first impulse would be to dispatch it to him. It was with no little misgiving that Martha waited the turn of events. Of course, she could, if John Ward received the locket and in turn brought it to her, having recognized her touch, disclaim any knowledge of tt. At the thought of her idol making himself known to her, Martha quite reconciled herself to the loss of the miniature, and her heart lost a beat a* she anticipated the prospect <4 being in th* same room with him and

perhaps shaking his hand. For the time being Alan was forgotten. She thought only of the joy of meeting John Ward and perhaps— But Martha did not let her thoughts go further than the meeting. • <- It was a week before the half expected happened. The great matinee idol did receive the locket, and he did make his way to Martha Holder's studio.

The conceit with which many actors make their way in the world was not lacking In John Ward. An allconsuming curiosity as to the personality of the girl whose name and address he had found in the locket which had been sent anonymously to him led the actor to make his way leisurely toward that address. He had donned his most becoming habiliments and his most entrancing manner. Surely a girl who had so lost her heart to him was worthy at least a call of inspection. She would be quite overcome upon seeing him. Of that Ward was certain. He thought, deep in his heart, that perhaps the girl herself, wishing to know him, had sent the locket in the hope that he would present himself at her studio door.

Martha, being guiltless either of the flattery or the indiscretion of seeking an Introduction to her idol, controlled the wild beating of her heart when his card was presented to her, and went in to meet him. When he . had introduced himself, which was quite unnecessary, and had held Martha’s hand an unnecessary length of time —the while he smiled softly into her eyes—John Ward drew forth the locket “I am flattered that one of our greatest miniature painters should have chosen so unworthy a subject for the expression of her art" he said, and smiled that peculiarly fascinating smile. “This locket containing my likeness was sent to me anonymously, and, finding an address engraved within, I took the liberty—” “Address! What address?" exclaimed Martha, while a spot of red flamed in either cheek. The actor drew unpardonably near to her and showed her the line engraving within the locket Martha’s name and address had been deliberately carved therein. She drew a swift breath and her steady eyes held off the flowery speech that was on John Ward’s lips.

“I have no idea how my address came to be engraved there. I have painted miniatures of all our wellknown actors for a friend of mine who is an inveterate collector,” Martha lied glibly. She knew that the situation required drastic measures if she were to extricate herself gracefully. “I will have to take that ivory out of the locket now.” She looked quickly at John Ward and laughed softly as if at a good joke. “How very funny,” she added. “It almost looks as if some person was trying to make trouble between my fiance and myself as well as putting you to a great deal of trouble to return the locket." John Ward bowed himself not ungracefully out of Martha’s studio. He felt, and not without reason, that he had made a great mistake in thinking the girl capable of a hopeless passion for himself. Martha had played her part well. When the elevator had descended with her caller Martha dropped into the nearest chair and pondered with all her might. Who had taken her locket from her studio with the deliberate intention of bringing John Ward and her together? Someone who desired to see her engagement to Alan Dobie broken. Of that Martha was certain. She never quite knew what prompted her to go immediately to the telephone and call up Alan. “Do you happen to know anything about my miniature of John Ward?” she asked with the frankness that had first endeared her to Alan.

“I am like George Washington,” Alan’s voice laughed back at her. "Did he turn up? I was anxious to to hear how my little scheme worked out. I have known all along, Martha, that you wanted to meet him. You are not angry, are you?” Alan had controlled his voice so that Martha felt only that he was desirous of her happiness and not that he was fighting for his own. “Do you want to —to get—to break our engagement—so badly?” In spite of herself Martha shrank from what Alan’s loved voice might say. She gripped the receiver with hands grown suddenly weak. After all there was no one like Alan in the whole world, and all the actors on Broadway were not worth one hair of Alan’s head. If Alan, big, generous Alan, who had flung his happiness to the wind and striven for her own, did not love her enough to come straight up and teH her so, then —Martha ceased to think rationally and found that she was putting her thoughts into words over the telephone and that Alan would be with her as soon as a taxi could bring him.

It Certainly Was.

."And you are afraid of the dark, Tommie?” “Yes, ma’am.’’ “But there’s nothing in the dark vs hurt you.” “Well, what’s pop limping around for?" “Oh, he fell over a chair when he came home late last night.” “Well, that was in the dark, wasn’t itr z

Good Guess.

Redd—Been out in your new automobile? Greene—Yes. Had trouble goin« out. We stopped several timoa, bu! coming back we didn’t make a stop. “I see; you were towed honce.”

Battle of Armageddon

By REV. JAMES M. CRAY. D. D.

Dm at Moody BU hrtMa'

TEXT—And they gathered them together in the place which is called in Hebrew, Har-Magedon. Revelation 16:18.

Many people are asking whether the present European war is the battle - of Armageddon,

the right objective, and third, it does not represent the right alignment of the nations.

The battle of Armageddon will not be fought in Europe, but in Asia. “Har-Magedon,” as the revised version translates it, is a mountain rising up out of the plain of Esdraelon In northern Palestine. Great and decisive battles have been fought there by the Hebrews, the Egyptians, the Saracens, and the crusaders, and here the kings of the prophetic earth are to be gathered, under the influence of demons working miracles, for that battle of the great day of the Lord God Almighty. The object of this battle will be the capture of Jerusalem, when it shall again be restored to the Jews prior to the second advent of the Messiah on their behalf; and the nations of the prophetic earth engaged in it will be those of the Roman empire federated again under a secular despot whom many associate with the antichrist Those nations do not include. Russia, nor do they Include Germany or Austria-Hungary, except in part, so that a new alignment of the nations seems necessary before that battle. How far the present European war may contribute to that new alignment one cannot say, but so far as it does so, it may be called a preparation for the battle of Armageddon.

The End of the World. 2. That this war cannot mean that we are near the end of the world is indicated in another way. For example, all Bible scholars are agreed that a long period of peace and righteousness is to prevail over thp earth before the end comps. From a passage in Revelation 20, it is gathered that it will last a thousand years, from which it takes the name millennium. This period not having begun as yet, it is clear the end of the world is at least 1,000 years away.

But we may be near the end of the age, which is a different matter. There have been several ages in the history of the race in which God has dealt with his people in different ways; each of these ages ended in a catastrophe. That of Eden ended in the expulsion from the garden. That following it ended in the flood. The Mosaic age ended in the crucifixion of our Lord and the dispersion of the Jews among the Gentile nations, where they are today; and it seems to be the teaching of the Scriptures that the same will be true of the age in which we live. The catastrophe impending is not one which affects the true church which is the body of Christ, but the professing church, and the nations which, having a form of godliness are denying the power thereof. The church will escape the catastrophe by being caught up to meet the Lord in the air, as it is written in I Thessalonians 4, but that which befalls the false church and the nations is the battle of Armageddon and what is connected withjt, of which this European war is so frightful a forerunner.

Second Coming of Christ. 3. The second coming of Christ means, of course, his personal in the sense of visible reappearing, and as stated before, so far as the church is concerned the event may be very far. It is after the church i« caught up to meet him in the air that the events transpire on earth which focus in the battle of Armageddon. His coming to the earth means the destruction of the nations thus headed up in the antichrist, not in the sense that all their inhabitants are slain, but that as nations they cease to exist The certainty and the imminence of our Lord’s return is a mighty motive for repentance and faith in his name, and in the case of those of us who are saved through faith it speaks with, equal potency df the necessity for a-, holy life. To quote The language of another, suppose this titanic conflict among the nations were the Very last event to occur prior to the Lord’s coming for his people to take them cut of such a scene, does it not give intense significance to the words of Paul in the thirteenth chapter of his epistle to the Romans where he says: "And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.”

and whether it means that we aje nearing the end of the world, and what relation it bears to the second coming of Christ. In answer to the first part of the question it may be said that it is not the battle of Armageddon for three reasons. First, it is not in the right location, second, it has not