Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 265, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 November 1915 — Page 3

THE OLD UNIFORM

By CHARLES FRASER ROSS.

The great pride in life of Jed Robinson was that his uncle Abner had been a soldier and a brave one. It was at Pea Ridge that the now old man had saved the colors of his company through an act of unusual heroism and had won distinguished notice. Shortly after Uncle Abner came home at the cessation of hostilities, the widowed mother of Jed died. Uncle Abner was a confirmed bachelor. His brother had left nothing. Abner himself owned a little forty-acre plot of ground along the river Just outside the town. He ran up a shack, made its interior as comfortable as his limited means would allow and adopted Jed.

It proved a poor possession, and with the exception of about one-twen-tieth of its area the land was barren as a gravel pit. It seemed as though in some original glacial convulsion nature had made a dumping ground of this convenient and selected spot to pile up all the mongrel tailings of heterogeneous mineral veins. Dig where you would, the pick or shovel was sure to strike coal, or pyrites, or asbestos in masses that suggested the ground-off product of enormous rocks that had passed over the district in remote centuries of the world’s geological travail. Uncle Abner did his rail duty by Jed and kept him at school until he was eighteen. By that time the old man had become Incapacitated for work. Jed gladly took up the burden of caring for the little patch of ground. The vegetable garden, a few cattle and the sale of gravel and sand to district contractors and the railroad

“I’m Welcome There.”

companies brought in a steady, though meager income, barely enough to subsist on. To make matters worse, in order that Jed might have an education his uncle had mortgaged the little place. It was only by exercising the strictest economy that Jed could manage to make accounts even up. Finally Uncle Abner took a whim into his head. Fifty miles away there was a soldiers* home. He startled Jed one day by announcing that he was going there. "I’m welcome there. I have a right to go there," he told his sorrowful nephew. "Here’s the point, lad: It’s easier to feed one mouth than two. Let me have about a year or two with my old comrades, meantime reaching out for the new pension increase. You work nard, and between us we’ll get the place free and clear and I’ll come back." A lonely life began for Jed. It had one bright spot. Once a week he went to the village church, once a month to the church social, and on each occasion he met Nettie Wilder. It went no further than a mutually pleasant acquaintanceship, but Jed cherished hopes of the future when better times came along. Four times a year Uncle Abner came home for a week. These companionable visits Jed looked forward to with sincere longing pleasure. Such an occasion he was anticipating one’ evening, when there was a knock at the door and a bluff, hearty voice sang out: “Open up, there—l’m nigh perished with the chilling blast!" “Why, Frank Wil er!” greeted Jed, as he opened the door to welcome Nettie’s brother. “Yes, Tm down from the city for a week, got lonesome and thought a chat with an old friend would do me good.” Jed made his visitor fully comfortable. He piled the wood into the broad open fireplace, got out a pitcher of prime home cider and some walnuts and maple sugar. “I say,” finally observed Frank, “why don’t you come down to the house once in awhile?” “I—l’ve been pretty busy getting things shipshape for the winter," rather lamely explained Jed, flushing up. “Especially the last month, for uncle Is coming on his regular quarterly visit, you see.” “Well, Nettie invited you to her birthday party and was quite put out 'because you did not come. Hello!” Frank gave a start and a stare at something be had not noticed before —a figure standing in the dim corner of the room. Jed was grateful that

the conversation had changed. He could not very well explain to his friend that grinding poverty had not admitted of his buying a decent suit of clothes for over two years, and the old ones were not presentable for a social function. “Why, yes,” he hastened to say, arising and taxing up the lamp and illuminating the obscure corner of the room. “It’s uncle’s old uniformstuffed.” "I declare!” remarked Frank in genuine admiration. “It looks fine. Talk about old armor —here’s the real thing—something timely and natural! With that old gun and the flag spread above the uniform, one mighty fancy old Uncle Abner was about to spring out in the full glory of the battlefield.” , . “I thought it might please him,” said Jed. “I stuffed the coat with straw and the rest of it with sand. I’m proud of Uncle Abner, I can tell you, Frank,” continued Jed. “Who wouldn’t be?” replied Frank. “I hope he’ll make his visit while I’m here.” “Oh, yes, he is due to arrive day after tomorrow,” declared Jed. “I’d Just love to have him once more go over that splendidly thrilling story of how he saved the day at Pea Ridge. I say, Jed, I’ll come Saturday evening, and I’ll bring Nettle. You know your uncle always made a pet of her.” Jed fluttered like a timid school child. To see Nettle again—to have her under the same roof! How he polished up the old tinware the next day! How he planned a meal out of the ordinary for those cherished guests, and when his uncle arrived the old fellow was wild with delight to give his favorite a glad reception. Frank Wilder was a mining engineer in the city and an agreeable and instructive talker. Both Ned and his uncle were arrayed in their best and the house spick and span when, Saturday afternoon, Nettie and her brother drove up from their home, five miles distant. Nettle was ardent in her praises of the orderliness and system of this typical bachelor’s hall. She insisted on helping Jed prepare the meal. It was the happiest moment of his life, to view her dainty figure flitting about the kitchen, keeping up a string of pretty talk, all charming nothingness, but the sweetest of music to his eager ears. It was after supper that Uncle Abner, in fine spirits, was induced to recite the Pea Ridge incident. In his excitement he used an old saber to illustrate an onslaught on the enemy. Alas! as an accidental swoop and dip came, the steel blade swept across the knees of the sand-padded uniform. A black flood poured forth. All hands laughed at the ludicrous Incident. “Why, where did you get this stuff?” suddenly inquired Frank, who had casually picked up a handful of the sand. “The hill is full of it,” explained Jed. "Sort of iron pyrites, isn’t it?” “Pyrites!” shouted Frank, quite excited. “Why, it’s tungsten, a good quality, too—used for hardening steel and worth fifty cents a unit.” “What’s a unit?” propounded Uncle Abner. “Twenty pounds.” “Why, we’ve got tons of it!” “Then you’re rich!” declared Frank. "I’m chemist enough to know the value of this stuff.” His opinion was correct and within a week brought results. A steel company bought the old place for a big sum and Uncle Abner did not have to go back to the Soldiers’ home. They built a new house and Frank was a welcome visitor, and Nettie, too. And finally, in the course of time Nettie came to the home to stay and help Jed do the cooking for the rest of his life. (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.)

WARNS AGAINST HIGH HEELS

Authority Points Out Danger of Fashion Which Just Now Has Strong Hold In Femininity. An eminent authority of the medical profession has again urged upon his brother- physicians the importance of impressing upon the public the need of properly caring for the feet, not only so far as having shoes constructed correctly, but also In urging every one to take a proper amount of foot gymnastics. “High heels," says the Journal of the American Medical Association in quoting Ritschl, “are particularly dangerous and lead to innumerable bodily ills.” - The strength and well being of the entire body depend in a large measure on the condition of the feet, and their development in children should be watched with special care to avert injurious Influences. High heels, Doctor Ritschl declares, "affect injuriously not only the foot itself, but throw the whole weightbearing mechanism more or less out of gear. By extending a moderately high heel backward many muscular troubles are automatically cured.”

Alas, Poor Pittsburgh!

“The old man was certainly wild today,” remarked the first Pirate as the last captive plunged from the plank. “What do you mean, wild?” inquired the second. "Didn’t he walk seven men?” laughed the first offender. —Buffalo Express.

Pa’s Opinion.

“Pa, what is a cannibal?” “A savage who eats human beings, son.” “Would a cannibal eat mamma, if he could?” “He might, son, but she would be sure to disagree with him.”

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

COLLECTING OF TIMEPIECES IS INVENTOR’S HOBBY

Wealthy Retired Brooklyn Man Has Rare Lot of Watches and Clocks.

1,100 TICK-TOCK TOGETHER

Members of Family Take Turns Winding Up the One-Year Family Clock — One Clock Upon Which Swiss Spent His Entire Life.

New York. —The largest private collection of clocks and watches in the world is housed in the home of James Arthur, a wealthy retired machinery inventor of Brooklyn. The mansion, built by the late William H; Hill, long has be’en one of the show places of the borough on account of its hardwood panelings and other decorations. Every room and hall is treated differently, and many of the rarest foreign and American woods have been employed. One room is finished in black birch, another in hazel, a third in mahogany, and so on. Another of Mr. Arthur’s “hobbles” is cabinetmaking, and so the Hill residence fell in precisely with his fancy, and he bought it partly as a museum for his timepieces, many of which are encased in the costliest of woods, matching or contrasting with the paneled walls and ceilings. There are in the collection about 122 clocks and 1,000 watches. The clocks, of which 44 are “grandfathers, ’ are scattered throughout the entire mansion, and 21—one in each room — are kept going constantly. The others are always" ready to go. Cases Also Notable. Not included in the collection itself are several massive hardwood cases of African rosewood, marble wood, etc., made by Mr. Arthur with his own hands, and which stand there in silence, awaiting the day when their owner shall have designed or invented special works for them that will register in some unusual way the flight of time. He has never sold a clock or a watch, nor has he ever given one away except to his own children, for their separate homes, when they marry. In the main parlor is the first complete clock ever made by Mr. Arthur —made in 1897. It is a ten-day timepiece, with two 40-pound weights, and a compensating pendulum of aluminum and steel. One dial is in the case and above it are three other dials, showing the way in which the machinery is arranged in a triangle tower clock. The works as well as the case are the personal handiwork of Mr. Arthur, and the, actual cost Is estimated at over $1,200. The "Family Clock." The “Arthur family clock,” also made in every part by the head of the house, runs a year at one winding. The works are in a case of dark mahogany. The seven-inch spring is the largest in the United States, and the ticking arrangement, technically known as “escapement,” is of the astronomical dead-beat pattern and is Jeweled with diamonds. This family clock was started by Mr. Arthur in 1906, and has been ceremoniously wound up. once each year ever since then, each time by a different member of the family. The name of the winder each year and the date are engraved by Mr. Arthur from year to year on a brass plate set in the case. The clock actually will run thirteen months without rewinding, he says. Also, he adds, it is contained in a case within a case, and is so thoroughly protected from the weather that it will last, unimpaired, indefinitely. “Five hundred years from now,” declared Mr. Arthur to a New York World reporter, “this clock will run Just as well as it does npw.” The outer case is of plain dark mahogany with dark oak panels. A Glass Plate Clock. One of the curiosities of the collection is a “glass plate clock,” so called because all the wheels —there are only three in the whole mechanism —are pivoted in a single heavy plate of glass. There is no framework. The instrument was made in France and is of unknown age. There are only two others like it —one in London and one at the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers in Paris. The large wheel has 300 teeth. The day of the week and also of the month are shown on the dial, which is enameled on copper. Another clock has a brass skeleton fraipe in exact Imitation of the Gothic monument to Sir Walter Scott in Edinburgh. The movement is of the chain-and-fusee type, the wheel for the chain being cone shaped. The clock was built in Edinburgh many years ago tor a priest, who brought it to the United States. Unique Repeater. Also in the collection ta a five-min-ute repeater clock, designed and made by Mr. Arthur —machinery, oak case and all. A big bell rings the hours, and If a certain chain is pulled the bell will ring the last preceding hour, and a smaller bell clinks once for each five-minute period since the last hour. Thus, if it is 0:56 a. m., the big bell gongs ten times and then the little bell also rings eleven times, indicating that it is within five minutes of. 11a.m.

WOMEN HELPING TO DEFEND RIGA

Russian peasant women digging trenches for the defense of Riga, the Baltic seaport which the Germans are trying hard to capture.

The figures on the glass dial are cut out clear through the metal, which makes them show very distinctly in almost any light on account of the perfect blackness behind them. In Mr. Arthur’s bedroom is a get-up clock of his own Invention. The face is two feet in diameter and the hands, covered by an aluminum paint, show plainly across the room if there is any moonlight. The wheels and dial are of New Jersey dogwood. The pendulum, which is over five feet long and has a 27-pound bob, beats once every one and one-fourth second a stately measure. A Fabian Robins Clock. Standing beside the get-up timekeeper are two tall and beautifully inlaid clocks, one made by the celebrated Fabian Robins in London, in 1695, the other by the noted lan Gobels in Amsterdam in 1767. There are only ten of Gobels’ clocks now in existence, so far as known. The Robins masterpiece has unique handmade lacework steel hands. Though the works were made in London, the inlaid wood case was contrived in Holland, the task occupying a year. One of the clocks downstairs has a Gothic dome of dark mahogany, made by Mr. Arthur, and the instrument is surmounted by a solid brass bell, made long ago in France or Germany, in copy of a famous cathedral bell in Moscow. Hour First, Then Quarters. In a mummy coffin case of dark oak, of his own construction, 7% feet high. Mr. Arthur has put the works of an old French clock, made in the Department of Jura, near Switzerland. It strikes the hour first, then the quarters. Most modern big clocks, including the one at Madison square, strike the quarters first. The only thing new about the machinery is the brass face, which Mr. Arthur designed. There are two carriage-spring clocks in the house. The spring is simply the lower part of a very diminutive laminated carriage spring, lying at the bottom of the clock, with its ends turned upward. The spring is of steel and runs the mechanism for a month without rewinding. Among the ormolu clocks is one of inlaid brass and tortoise shell, in designs which include singing birds and dancing women. Each number on the dial is on a separate plaque enameled on copper. There is a French buhl eight-day clock in an old case finely inlaid with ivory and tortoise shell. One of the large timepieces has an aluminum dial and a heavy brass pendulum jeweled with agates. Distinctive Hour Hand. Scarely without exception the hands on the clocks in the Arthur collection consist of a spade (for the hours) and a pointer, in contrast to the common American plan of two

HER HUSBAND AT FRONT

Baroness Andre R. de Beckendorf, formerly Miss Gertrude Covington of Kentucky, is-here shown playing golf on the roof of a New York hotel in an effort to relax from the worries over the safety of her husband who is fighting for the czar. , '

pointers. The use of the spade pattern. Mr. Arthur says, greatly facilitates telling the time at a glance. A fine example of a Howard eightday clock of Boston is contained in a case of unknown, unsurpassed American workmanship, so perfectly jointed, in dark mahogany, that no one ordinary man, unaided, could have done it. A new dial and hands have been added by Mr. Arthur. There are several examples in the collection of the ancient clocks whose weights, on cotton cords, were pulled up instead of being wound. Among them is a one-day Dutch timepiece with a hand-painted dial. The works are 175 years old. Some early American owner tore off the original case, and substituted one of Pennsylvania cherry wood.. Made for a King. On one of the mantels stands a French clock made for one of the oldtime kings. It has a porcelain dial and is topped by a bronze elephant, remarkable in that it is entirely unlike an elephant in every single feature —legs, trunk, mouth, joints, ears, toes, everything—although resembling an elephant as a whole when looked at from a distance. Ampng the Japanese timepieces are a number of long, narrow wall clocks that look like lizards frozen straight and stiff. The hands of these clocks are fastened to weights and move up and down, marking the hours, which are arranged in a line, one above the other. There are three elaborately designed Japanese clocks in cases, one yard in height. Mr. Arthur has a number of curious one-minute remontoir (rewinding), springless clocks, with weights and compensating pendulums. Made by a Blacksmith. One of Mr. Arthur’s valued antiquities is an old church timepiece. Tradition has handed it down as the “English blacksmith's clock.” It has the very earliest application of the pendulum, which in this case is less than three inches long, is hung on the verge or pallet axle, and beats 222 times a minute. This clock is at least two hundred and fifty years old. The wheels are of cast brass, but their teeth were laboriously filed by hand. All the staffs, pinions and pivots were filed by hand, as also were the four screws. It is a complete striking clock, made by a man so poor that he had only his anvil, hammer and file. There is only one hand, and the weights are hung by cords and have to be pulled up. Among the other interesting timepieces in the collection are a fourfaced chimney clock a yard high, on which a man in Switzerland spent his entire life; a French clock by Poligny of Jura; a gilt clock in glass, the pendulum bob of which is a child swinging in and out instead of across; - an eight-day clock, 250 years old, made with iron plates, with a dial of melted pewter spoons; a French clock which has a dinner plate dial and no hole for winding.

COURT MAKES QUEER ORDER

Robber Gains Two Years* Parole on Condition He Repays Cost of His Trial. Houghton, Mich. —John Spelich has been released from the county jail for two years’ probation on one of the queerest orders known here. Spelich was given his freedom by Judge O’Brien on condition that he repay within two years the costs of his capture and his trial. Spelich stole SI,OOO from a teapot belonging to Mrs. John Messner, a widow. The money was the life insurance of' her husband. All of the cash was recovered and the woman did not want to prosecute. He will return to the widow and work for her.

Well Will Heat Town.

Edgemont, S. D.—Edgemont soon will enjoy the distinction of being the only city in the state or northwest which has buildings heated by water from an artesian well. The famous hot water spouter which was completed here some months ago will be utilized in the business district.

Nine Pearls in One Mud Clam.

Elma, Wash. —Victor Minkler of Montesano has taken 120 pearls from mud clams along the Chehalis river within three days. For one of the pearls he was offered S3O. He said that from one clam alone he had taken nine pearls.

FELT IN THE HEART

Many Things in Religion That Cannot Be Explained by Cold Intellect The prayer which Paul offered for his Ephesian friends seems to be a particularly daring one. A great deal of effort has been put forth to explain the paradox in the crowning petition of that prayer. He asks that his friends may be enabled “to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge.” Is that not a strange thing to seek? Is this man merely playing with words? Is he indulging in meaningless hyperbole? Is there any real significance In this peculiarly phrased petition? It is well to remind ourselves that this rare petition suggests a simple truth and one of present importance. There are some things in religion which can be felt, but cannot be explained. Experience goes where knowledge cannot travel. There are feelings which deny analysis. Our logic limps and halts when we undertake to explain and classify some of the deeper things of the religious life. There are many things which it is quite impossible to know in the sense of understanding them. At this point they are too high for us. We cannot attain unto that height. There is a good' deal that is mystical aboub the spiritual life. Some have been* disposed to think overmuch, possibly, of these deeper experiences. They, have been called “the mystics.” Perhaps the average of us does not think enough about them. It has been the tendency among Scotch Presbyterians to emphasize the logical and intellectual somewhat at the expense of the mystical and the emotional. The latter deserves emphasis as well as the former. It is well to remember that the most precious things of the Christian life are the things that go beyond analysis. Paul had a remarkable experience in which he heard unspeakable words — things beyond the power of our limited human speech to express. To him it was to be in the third heaven for a time. There are privileges like that awaiting believers. Logic Cannot Always Explain. Things we cannot know with the Intellect can be known by the heart. Things which cannot be explained may nevertheless be profoundly felt and may bring rich and joyful experiences with them. The knowledge of experience reaches heights to which the reason cannot climb. Do we not speak soberly when wo say that, our present and pressing need is to know the love of Christ in this experimental way? The love of Christ passeth knowledge. It is something that defies our analysis. Our logic is powerless to explain it. Cold reason falls limp when it tries to explore the glowing mysteries of pie Immeasurable love of Jesus Christ to men. The breadth and length and height and depth are beyond all mind. It surpasses knowledge. But this thing which we cannot explain fully can be known in an enriching experience. Nothing means so much to a Christian life as actually to feel the warmth and glow of the love of Jesus. That is the supreme privilege of the children of God. That is the joy which lies in the heart pt real consecration. Nothing exceeds IL Nothing excels it. We suggest that each Christian may well make the crowning petition of this old prayer his own personal petition. There will be large success in all of those activities if they are inspired by a personal experience of the love of Christ. There will be great achievements when all the folk In the church come to know Christ’s love with this experimental knowledge Happy are all they who. leaving the "freezing reason’s colder part,” concerning all these enriching things of the religious life can confidently say: “I have felt.”—United Presbyterian.

“EXPEDIENT THAT I GO AWAY”

Henry Drummond’s Beautiful Idea of the Thoughts of Jesus at the Grave of Lazarus. One day when Jesus was in Perea, a message came to him that a very dear friend was sick. He lived in a distant village with his two sisters. They were greatly concerned about their brother’s illness, and had sent in haste for Jesus. Now Jesus loved Mary, and Martha, and Lazarus their brother; but he was so situated at the time that he could not go. Perhaps he was too busy, perhaps he had other similar cases on hand; at all events, he could not go. When he went ultimately, it was too late. Hour after hour the sisters waited for him. They could not believe he would not come; but the slow hours dragged themselves along by the dying man's couch, and he was dead and laid in the grave before Jesus arrived. You can imagine one of his thoughts, at least, as he stands and weeps by that grave with the inconsolable sisters—"lt is expedient that 1 go away. I should have been present at his deathbed scene if I had not been away. I win depart and send the Comforter. There will be no summons of sorrow which he will not bo able to answer. He will abide with me forever. Everywhere he will come and go. He will be like the noiseless, invisible wind, blowing all over the world whereat* ever he listeth.” —Henry Drummond.