Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 February 1916 — Page 3

BARONASTOR'S

WHEN William Waldorf Astor, newly raised to the peerage, was called on to select his title, he turned to Hever castle, his favorite residence, on which he has spent a mint of money, and called himself Baron Astor of Hever castle. It was built by a certain William de Hevere, who was sheriff of Kent in the reign of Edward I, belonged to Lord Colham, under Henry IV, and subsequently to the Scropes and the De Boleyns, and was the home in turn of two consorts of Henry VIII, namely, Queen Anne of Cleves, and Queen Anne Boleyn. whose oratory remains to this day one of the most beautiful features of the castle. The Waldegraves also made their home at Hever, then the Humphreys, and finally the Waldos, a Huguenot family, from whom William Waldorf Astor purchased it, about twelve years ago. It is one of the most beautiful and picturesque country seats in Kent, a county renowned for its grand old castles and manors, and restored by Its present owner regardless of expense, with a wonderful taste and archeological reverence, it is a perfect treasure house of history and of art. To reach Hever castle from London, the traveler must take his ticket by the London, Brighton & South Coast railway for Edenbridge. The distance is only 28 miles down into what is called the Kentish weald. Arrived at Edenbridge, the visitor finds himself close to a tiny village situated upon the Eden, a branch of the Medway, and here a small and sluggish stream, writes W. Seton Gordon. A cottage or two cf ancient appearance, a veneraable inn, the “Henry VIII,” with plaster walls framed by oak beams; a forge, a post office and near them a stone church with a tower and shingled spire surmounting the hilltop; this is Hever village. Below are the towers of Hever castle. In the latter only, now gilt by the touch of a millionaire, one perceives that changes have been recently wrought; for the cottages, inn and church look as if they have slumbered for centuries. Here are still the thatched roof, the leaded window with diamond pane, and those quaint and unaccustomed things which, when contrasted with the fresh and fair beauty of an English landscape, are so strangely grateful to the eyes of the American traveler.

Back to the Norman Times. The church dates from early Norman times, but it is doubtful whether any of the oldest structure remains, unless it he part of the font. The restoration of It, however, undertaken about eighteen years ago, has been carefully carried out and much of Interest to the antiquarian preserved. At the point where the chancel and nave meet may still be seen the doorway and staircase leading to the rood loft, although the latter has long been removed. Here, also, may be found that strange reminder of the leprosy once so prevalent in England, a hagioscope or leper’s squint, now closed on the outside. Standing behind this, the unfortunate could obtain a view of the side altar or chantry. There is also a leper’s window on the south side of the chancel.

The north chancel is. known as the Boleyn chapel and was built by Sir Geoffrey. It contains a piscina and aumbry, and is separated from the chancel by Tudor arches. To visit Hever castle, one must cross the oaken drawbridge suspended as of old on its hanging chains, not falling to admire the broad waters of the moat, which glitter in the sunshine. Standing beneath the keep, one notes the absence of the ivy which once covered it, but which was removed by its present owner to disclose the rugged beauty of the tower. Here is tbe first portcullis, this heavy oaken grating, studded with rusty bolts with jagged teeth to impale the Unbidden intruder, and traveling between upright grooves in which the antique chains still suspend it Beyond'it hangs the second portcullis, set in the further wall of the keep, and leading into the courtyard. On this very spot where we are standing have often stood Cardinal Wolsey and Archbishop Cranmer, Rochford and his sister Anne, Suffolk and Wyat, as well as ’their cruel and bloody kins.

HEVER CASTLE

Passing through the corridor at the farther side of the court and into the entrance hall, the work of recent improvement is at once apparent. This beautiful chamber is paneled from floor to ceiliiig with Italian walnut and contains a lofty fireplace of Verona marble, most elaborately carved. Bed Chambers of Queens. Ascending the staircase, the visitor is shown through the gallery into three historic bed chambers, the first being that of Anne of Cleves, Henry’s fourth wife, whom he divorced to marry Catherine Howard; for after beheading Anne Boleyn, whom Henry denied to have been his wife, he still inconsistently claimed and took ownership of Hever by right of his marriage to her. Next to this gloomy apartment is the sleeping chamber of Anne Boleyn, containing the selfsame old oak bed in which she slept in her happy girlhosd days. Beyond this is the guest chamber occupied by Henry VIII during the many visits which the king made to Hever while paying court to Anne. It contains a handsome and richly-carved four-post bedstead, opposite to which stands a heavy chair with the Lion pf St. Mark sculptured On each arm. A winding stone staircase built Into the outer wall leads to the famous long gallery, often trodden by Henry and Anne before their marriage. Here, is an old oriel window with the Tudor arms emblazoned on its glass, and tradition says that from this window Anne was wont to watch for the coming of her royal lover as his horse topped the road over the hill. Other objects of Interest are the council chamber and, near it, the stone dungeon, where many antique instruments of torture are shown. There are also windowless closets and obscure secret passages inclosed in the massive masonry of the keep, the very purpose or use of which is forgotten. In one of them the new purchaser found a thirteenth century manuscript of the Historia Scholastics of Petrus Cahestor, containing a chapter from the Book of Kings—-probably a relic of Walter de Hever or Nicholas Heath. View iPronri' the Parapet. Looking out from the parapet at the to® of the tower, the extent of the improvements outside the walls is apparent On one side is a wide stretch of artificial lake. Built along its margin is a garden in the Italian style. A high wall of beautifully-carved yellow stone, broken here and there by rounded pavilions, throws a protecting arm around one side, while on the other side is a pergola—the two forming a long cloister. Here, in summer, fountains play, fish disport themselves in sunny basins of agate, exotic plants twine about pillars of porphyry, and masses of roses cover everything. Near the center is a Roman garden with its Impluvium adorned with columns and sculpture. The wall ends in a loggia, with broad marble stairs leading down to the waters of the lake.

Half concealed In the wood roams a herd of dappled deer, and yonder Is the very site of Anne Boleyn’s garden. Her favorite walk, still known as “Anne Boleyn’s Walk,” lies Just across the hilltop under an avenue of chestnuts. The villagers believe that her restless and unhappy spirit still haunts Hever, and has been often seen at night standing where the faithless king first met her, and wringing her hands. “Fancy the heart,” wrote Leigh Hunt, “that could have sent this poor little hysterical, half-laughing, half-crying thing to the scaffold!”

Simple Diet of the Turk.

The simple diet of the Turk has taken nothing from his good physique; rather, likely, it is one of the main sources of his health and strength. The Turkish porter, or hamal, dines on a chunk of bread, costing one cent, together with a melon, or a bunch of grapes, or an onion, or a piece of cheese, to the cost of another cent, and considers his meal complete. Yet his daily toil consists in carrying packing cases, pianos and other knick-knacks JT: aroftnd on his back, to the astonishment of every visitor acquainted only tfith the prowess of porters in the West This rugged Turkish burdenbearer eats a dinner at night which in times of peace costs about four dents -y-a bowl of pilaff with bits of meat in it jj .

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

UNCLE JOE'S PRIZE

By JANE OSBORN. When Dave Brown left his office in the big city for a day or two to revisit the old home town of Hardy’s Corners, he always made tracks for the one-room headquarters of the Hardy’s Corners Weekly Gazette, where his Uncle Joe Brown, with the aid of a single office boy, performed the entire operation of getting out the local news sheet, all the way from circulation boosting to running the press.

“Well, now,’’ began his uncle, in his characteristic drawl, “if you really want to help out a mite, you might hitch up the old nag and take a turn out the pike to see the girl I’ve picked for the winner of the beauty contest. Youßee.it’sthisway : Subscriptions have been kind of falling off since the rural free delivery brought the city papers around every day, and for some years I’ve been thinking I’d got to do something to help give things a boost. So I hit on the idea of having some contests of interest to the women folks. I’ve got a duej>jll on the dry goods emporium here for some advertisements they have owed for going on two years, and I’ll have the winners take out their prizes that way. “Well, the contest is coming along fine—especially the beauty one—and t’va got a drawer packed foM of Pictures of pretty girls from all around her e—only all of them aren’t so pretty. “I’ve about decided on the winner. I stopped around to get a good look at her after she’d sent ir. hes photo and, honest, you couldn’t see a finerv looking girl if you spent a lifetime looking. She’s a regular old-fashioned kind—beautiful eyes and—oh, well, you’ve got to see her to know. Now, what I want you to do is this: I’ve picked her, and in the next number of the Gazette that comas out on Satnrday. I’m going to announce her winning, with a picture of the girl, and the same afternoon we’re going to have the girl and some of her friends come down and blow them off to a course dinner at the hotel, and then take them on a joy ride. “Now, suppose you go out this morning and see the girl, and tell her she has got the prize, and take the due bill on the emporium with you, and, if you could, you might take her to the emporium and have her pick out a pretty dress and hat and other fixings for the prize. Be sure to get something pretty and kind of showy, ho when folks see them they will Bort of give the Gazette a boost. “You’ll have to stop at the house when you go to get the horse, and you’ll find the name of the girl on an envelope, with the due bill. Let’s see —you’ll find them in the family Bible, In the sitting room. “And, say, take a tip from me,” added Uncle Joe, “there isn’t much better kind of girl going when it comes to picking a wife than regular old-fash-ioned, bright-eyed, pink-cheeked country girls. If T wasn’t so old, imighjt be sparking around this beauty winner myself. Now don’t let the grass grow under your feet.” Sally Bunn —that was the name on the envelope—came to the door herself when Dave Brown called at the farmhouse on the pike. Sally Bunn came straight from the kitchen, and her hands and plump arms were covered with flour and -her face- was flushed with the heat of the oven. But somehow at that first glance It never occurred to Dave to think that this really could be Sally Bunn. True, she was a nice little girl, bright-eyed and dear-skinned, but not at all the type of girl he had in mind when he listened to his uncle’s eulogy. Somehow, Dave had felt convinced that the girl his uncle would select as the beauty would be of the peaches-and-cream variety of blonde —a veritable Marguerite, with braids of molassescandy hair. AM, besides, Sally Bunn, though she was much impressed by Dave Brown’s city clothes and city manners, was also mistaken. She took him, for a book agent, and had all but shut the door In his face when he said that he had come from the Gazette to see Miss Sally Bunn. “I’m Sally Bunn,” she said, and Dave tried to cover his surprise. “Bine! I’ve come to tell you that you have won the prize in the contest,” he said. “My uncle, who owns the paper, asked me to come and tell you. And now lam going to ask you to let me take you to town to select the pretty dress and hat and things that you have won.” "How perfectly wonderful,” cried the girl, clapping her floury hands. “May I pick out Just what I want? How wonderful!” And, bubbling over with delight, she led the way to the best room. Dave suggested that Sally should take her mother or sister or some one as n chaperon on the huf Sally explained that she was the only daughter of Farmer Bunn, who was a work. Aunt Mandy, were alone in the house, so she would have to go without A chaperon. "But I don't In the least mind, for I know Just what I want. Oh, how perfectly lovely it is that I am to have a new dress and hat and things! You know my father's feelings on that. He is old-fashioned, and he doesn’t like to . have me spend money-for new dresses. I have to make them all for myself. You see, he is like the old folks, and he says it will be all the more for me to have for a portion when I am married, only I shall never marry anyone, I am sure.” “I don’t at all agree with you,” Dave

replied, and then as he watched the girl he realized that in truth she wa* more than passing comely. “The only surprise is,” he reflected, “that that thick-skinned old uncle of mine should have had sense enough to discover it.” Before they started out, Sally insisted on serving Dave with a dainty mid-morning luncheon of gingerbread and milk, strawberries and cream, and they climbed into the old buggy and started off over the couhtry road on what was the most excltklg shopping tour of Sally Bunn’s existence. “I Just dote on pretty clothes,” she said simply. “Tell me, do you think pink or blue would be more becoming?” And as Dave studied her coloring to find the answer, he assured himself that no girl he had met in the city could compare with this simple country maid. “A wonderful housekeeper”—she had prepared the luncheon with her own capable handB —“plenty of money and as handsome as a picture,” Dave said 4.0 himself. “The old man certainly right.” Then the girl at his side interrupted him. “Why was it that you seemed so surprised when I said I was Sally Biffin?’’ she asked. “You didn’t seem to think that I could have won that prize.” “It wasn’t quite that,” laughe#Dave. "Though to tell you the truth, I didn’t think that you were the young lady I was looking for. But I know you better now. First impressions are never quite fair.”

“No,” Agreed Sally, turning her head away with a blush, “but you do think I deserve the prize now, don’t you?” And then changing the subject, as Dave supposed, very abruptly. "Did you think that was good gingerbread?” ..That evening Dave returned to his uncle’s house. He had just been through what he was convinced was the most delightful adventure of his Hfe. He had rather overdrawn the due hill in his efforts to secure for Sally the prettiest hat and dress and shoes that the emporium displayed. He knew he could explain his motives to his uncle later. He had taken Sally to one o’clock dinner at the hotel, and then after the return drive had left her at her own front door, still clutching her beloved bundles and packages, radiant and delightful In her happiness. He had promised to be back early the next day to take her in for the gala luncheon and automobile ride. ‘‘You are a better Judge of beauty than I thought you were, uncle. That little girl is not only as pretty as a picture, but she Is the most delightful girl I have ever met. I never thought you’d call her a beauty, though. I thought you went In more for the peaches-and-cream variety. It takes an expert to recognize real beauty I congratulate you.”

The uncle beamed with real pride. "I guess I can pick them as well as the next feller. So you got her all fixed up fine, did you?” “The prettiest things in town,” replied Dave. “In fact, I went a little overs, the margin allowed. But I intend to make up the difference myself. In fact, Lhave taken your good advice. I am going to woo my country girl in the true old-fashioned styie. FTom something she said, I am sure she is not engaged to anyone else.” They were sitting in the living room at the time, and Uncle Joe had opened the fly leaf of the family Bible where the due bills were kept. He looked at them and his whistle of surprise interropted Dave's praises of -Sally Bunn, - Tm blowed,” exclaimed Uncle Joe, and after a second whistle shriller than the last, he added, “if you didn’t go and take the wrong envelope. Say, you haven’t been to see the prize beauty at all. You’ve been off to see little Sally Bunn, the girl I gave the prize to for the best loaf of bread ” Uncle Joe leaned hack In his chair and laughed long and loud. “Sure, she’s a nice little girl and her pa and I have been pals since we were boys, one of the richest farmers in the county, and Sally’s all right, too. But I don’t see that she’s so much on looks. I guess I’m not one of these experts you were referring to after all. Why, the girl I picked is a regular winner, golden hair and blue eyes and a skin that looks like pink and white roses. “Say,” went on Uncle Joe, after a little reflection, “what did you buy for Sally? Well, If that doesn't beat all. The prize that was going with the best loaf of bread was only going to be one of those new bread mixers the women folks are making such a fuss about. But I’m real glad you made the mistake. I’d a deal rather have you marry Sally than a girl that was so stuck on herself that she’d send in her photo to a beauty contest, even if she was a regular winner.” (Copyright, 1916. by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)

Table Repartee.

They were seated at the supper table when a small domestic storm arose. “Madame,” exclaimed the angry busband, “you seem to forget that I earn your bread. * “Well,” rejoined the patient wife, “I urn your tea, don't I? ‘

Nothing but the Truth.

Miss Singleton—l was surprised to hear df your marriage You used to say that you wouldn;! marry the best man on earth. Mrs. Wederly—Well, after a month’s experience, I am inclined to believe that I told the juftith.

An Ideal Chauffeur.

Dora —They say that it s just thrill-, ingly deltgjtoua to take an automobile trip with the Roasters new chauffeur Daisy—Why is It? ; * Dora—Because .he’s cross-eyed and left-handed.

Kin Hubbard Essays

GRACEFUL OLE AGE

Uncle Niles Turner, who is roundin’ 9ut his one hundred an’ fourth year, recently wuz asked how he accounted for his longevity. Lookin’ up from a rough draft o’ th’ Belgian frontier he ■aid: “By eatin’ what’s set before me an’ playin’ th’ game. Bein’ a life long Democrat, I early learned t’ accept th’ inevitable as th’ best t’ be had. Folks nowadays are too much given, after passin’ th’ meridian o’ life, t’ livin’ in th’ past or worryin’ about th’ future. They let too many golden days slip away while they make little journeys back t’ th’ echoless shore or hibernate till somethin’ turns up. There balnt nothin’ as witherin’ as broodin’ o’er th’ past—recallin’ th’ days when you boarded at home fer nothin’, or strolled down th’ road by th’ tannery

“Countin’ th’ Days Till We Can Lay Back in Idleness an’ Enjoy Life I* Another Habit That Renders Us Insensible t’ th’ Joys O’ th’ Present, While th’ Gray Hairs Thrive an’ Multiply Above Our Temples.”

with some freckle-nosed slip of a girl, happy an’ mushy in th’ flush o’ young manhood. - “Countin’ th’ days tiU we can lay back in idleness an’ enjoy life is another habit that renders us‘insensible t’ th’ Joys o’ th’ present while th’ grey hairs thrive an’ multiply about our temples. Viewin’ with alarm, worryin’ over whether school continues or suspends, waitin’ fer money from home an’ tryin’ t’ beat th’ game are all things that hasten senility, that totterin’ ole dry cell state that precedes th’ grave. “T’day’s th’ day. Yisterday is gone

Great Men o’Humble Origin

Hon. Ex-Editor Cale Fluhart delivered th’ baccalaureate address t’ th’ r/raduatin’ class o’ th’ Apple Grove high school, last Wednesday night, without th’ aid of a white lawn tie, an’ his ETince Albert coat looked almost as good as It did at th’ close o’ th civil war. Th’ aged journalist never appeared t’ better advantage, havin’ his subject under perfect control at all times an’ engagin’ th’ wrapt attention o’ his hearers fer three long sultry hours, even “ONE WHO WUZ THERE” remainin’ fer th’ finish. Among other things he said: “Th’ population o’ this country is well nigh ont’ ninety-three million an’ th’ boy or girl who expects t’ tunnel f th’ front thro’ this wilderness o’ humanity must ponsees th’ qualities that win. What are th’ qualities that win? Energy an’ thrift? Standin’ in front o’

“Tilford Moots Plowed In Hls Bare Feet, Sometimes on Circus Day—Even Missin’ th’ Parade.”

th’ pustofflce complainin' about th’ tariff an’ knockin’ th’ rich vron’t buy groceries. Go t’ work at th’ first thing that comes along an’ save your money. A good hod carrier soon gits somethin’ better, but once a poor hod carrier alius a poor hod carrier. I speak o’ hod carryin’ because it’s employment In every sense o’ th’ word. Become gilt edged in whatever you do, if it’s only drivin’ a dressed poultry wagon. Eflßciency means promotion an’ promotion means better livin’ conditions. Ever* successful man o’ t’day kin remember when a two-cent piece looked as big as a soda cracker. Andy Carnegie, Tipton Bud, John Rockefeller, Henry C. Frick, Tilford Moots an’ Charley Schwab are all men o" bumble origin who have brushed th’ snow from ther pillows in th’ days o’ ther youth. Carnegie wuz a telegraph operator, often workin’ twenty-four hourq straight in his barefeet; Tipton Bud wuz a barefooted boy in Kokomo, beggin’ a banana from each one he met; John Rockefeller wuz a plain clerk behind th’ counter where his feet eouM not be seen; Tilford Moots plowed in his bare feet, sometimes on circus day—even missin’ th’ parade. Charley Schwab of th’ steel trust stood around th’ forge in his bare feet, often steppin’ on a hot slug; Henry C. Frick, th’ steel magnate, blew stumps so his father's farm before he worked

By KIN HUBBARD.

ferever an’ t’morrow is as uncertain as th’ feller who’ll be bock in a minute. “T'day’s ours. It’s here an’ we’ve got twenty-foui’ hours t’ make some kind of a showin’. "If t’morrbw comes all well an' good, but t’day’s th’ time t’ clean up. "Th’ days o’ blue-jeans an’ sideburns have passed. We must cultivate the faculty o’ failin’ in with t’day. “In this age th’ feller with sidewhiskers is Btandln’ still. “Along th’ curb o’ life are lined tjb' pinched an’ seedy quitters who have dropped out o’ th’ precession o’ life t' remain with th’ ole order o’ things. “After we lay down th’ shovel an', th’ hoe an’ git over on borrowed time we should work up a route an’ keep on th’ go. Too many ole men seem t' live for ther whiskers alone. Drive

’em back an’ let folks know you’re got a shirt on. Don't let your personal premises go t’ th’ dogs like an abandoned homested. Guard agin’ bein' called ‘Uncle Billy.' Once you’re called 'Uncle Billy’ you git in th’ way. If you heard Stephen A. Douglas speak at Cairo, Illinois, keep still about it. Fight shy o’ th’ past. Don’t talk about what might have been or what’s bound t’ come. Stick t’ what ia Git your events hot off th’ bat. .. Bemember t’day’s th’ day an’ git somethin’ out of it even if it’s only a checker game."

up t’ his first pair o' red top boots. Tell Binkley is another member o’ th' old barefoot squad who wuz well ont* forty years ole before he tasted his* first lobster. Biography records scarcely a better example o’ an’ economy leadin’ ther possessor ss o’ th’ most unpropitioTus circumstances t’ honor an’ affluence. Tell Binkley's father could drink or leave It alone so he soon went t’ work, walkin’ fourteen miles t’ his task, an’ carryin’ his dinner, which consisted of a cold buckr wheat cake. ‘‘This is th’ age o’ opportunity an' ther is no excuse fer anybuddy playin' pool in th’ daytime. Indulgent parents are th’ worst handicap a boy kin have next t’ a fondness fer athletics. Work is th’ natural exercise. Nobuddy kin talk as bitterly agin our economic system as th’ feller wbo’si

savin’ up fer a vacation. So begin IT toil early an’ save, rememberin’ alius that theris plenty o’ time t’ see Niagary Falls after you git on a payin basis. Niagara Falls ’ll alius be where it is t’day, but th’ golden age o’ youth an’ energy is fleetin’. “Remember too, that next t’ whittlin' ther’s nothin’ as demoralizin’ an' tissue dryin’ as sowing wild oats." (Copyright, Adams Newspaper Service.;

Maud Willis —So Percy and Clauds are both crazy about you? Bess Gillis —Yes, and they have b» (Some the most bitter enemies over it, too. Maud Willis—lndeed? Bess Gillis —Yes. The other night when Percy was eating, Claude had bribed the milk man to come at ten o’clock in the evening and to be nm to have father hear him. —Judge • #

First Theatrical Manager— I That leading man of yours must be hard to -get along with; Second Theatrical Manager--He la. There is only one man from whom tfcey will take any talk. First Theatrical M anager—Who is that? Second Theatrical Mans gar— TM prompter.

Mean Trick.

Naturally.