Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 93, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 April 1916 — Page 2

REPARATION

By FRANCES ELIZABETH LANYON.

Robert Dale—“ Old Trusty’’ the prison officials called him —“the thief catcher” he was designated by the convicts under hiß charge, went his usual rounds at midnight to make an amazing discovery. He was called Old Trusty because he never relaxed in his duty as guardian of the men in his especial custody. He was designated the thief catcher because, once a convict made away before his time was up, Dale hunted him to the ends of the earth, but he found his man and brought him back to a double sentence of expiation. Now Dale halted, caught at a loose iron door, flashed his lantern within, and uttered a muffled word: “Gone!” Then he blew the signal for the guard, meanwhile exploring the interior of the cell. By the time the guards had appeared he was out in the corridor again. “It was No. 921,” he reported gruffly. “You all know him. He can’t have got far, for I O. K.’d him on the eleven o’clock round. After him!” Then, the guards dispersing, he traced what had been done. A door bar sawed through, that of the corridor tower forced, a knotted rope made out of torn strips of sheets led down from a window —and freedom! More the amazed was Robert Dale because No. 921 was a model prisoner and had been since he came to the prison two years before. Dale went to the record book to revive his mem-

“I Just Want to Rest for a Few Minutes.”

ory. One of its pages related the history of No. 921. Eldred Wareham was his name — a clerk in a big city bond house. He had embezzled some hundreds of dollars to invest in a rising Btock. There had come a slump. He had lost and confessed. He had been given a sentence of five years. There were no antecedents. The young man apparently had no living relatives. He had come from the country to fall a victim to the temptations of the city. The chaplain had taken a marked fancy to the ingenuous-faced, well-be-haved prisoner. Wareham was always attentive to his exhortations. His fellows sneered at his “conversion,” yet they all recognized his gentle, accommodating ways, and when he was set at work in the hospital he was the favorite nurse.

“He won’t go back to the city,” growled Dale. “Beyond that we know nothing concerning him. It will be a hard chase, but I will get him.” These were prophetic words, but their fulfillment was a long ways ahead. The guards found no trace of the fugitive. Through the best part of a year Dale made many a journey to try to find the only escaped convict he had not caught. It was of no avail and the champion thief catcher was nettled and chagrined. His promotion to under turnkey somewhat mollified his disappointment. Then, too, he had one soft spot in his heart. Many a mile away, visited only occasionally through the years, but cherished, idolized, his stepdaughter lived a quiet, happy life in a peaceful haven where he had bestowed her. She had been like a real daughter to his dead wife —the only golden thread in the warp and woof of his stern life. It was almost a year to the day after his escape that Eldred Wareham, pursuing a lonely country road, paused before a typical corners tavern. Twelve months had a good deal changed his appearance, due mainly to the hirsute appendages that well covered his face. He had become an aimless wanderer. He was footsore and penniless. He entered the place to find its proprietor half asleep in his chair. ■r~.

“I Just want to rest for a few minutes,” was his plea and the publican nodded agreeably, for he was glad of company. The evident respectability of the casual,, visitor seemed to impress him. After a few moments of desultory study of Wareham he spoke out: T reckon you haven't much cash, nor a Job?” “You are doubly right,” was the bluqt admission. “I like your appearance and maybe X can offer you something," proceeded tbe tavern keeper. queer

case! About a week ago a likely young fellow came along on a farmer’s wagon. He got off to get a drink. The more he got the more he wanted. He wouldn’t go on to his destination, wherever that might be. He's now down with the horrors in his room upstairs. We called a doctor, but he says the young fellow must have led a terrible life, for he don’t think he’ll ever get up again. He bad a pocket full of money, but no paper telling who he was. Will you nurse him for good pay?” “I’ll be glad to do it for nothing,” said Wareham eagerly. Never was there a better nurse, but the ministrations of Wareham proved of no avail. The patient took a great liking to Wareham. They became as brothers, and he told him the story of his life. He had been a reckless, riotous fellow from boyhood. He was an orphan and brought up by a high-church dignitary in England. The love of drink seemed born in him, be became a confirmed dipsomaniac and finally his uncle had cast him off. He told him he never wished to see him again, and as a last chance he gave Alan Moore a letter to an old friend, an aged clergyman in America. If he behaved himself this man might after him. Moore was provided with money. He had fallen by the wayside and was now dying. “I am not going to live,” he declared; “bury me without a name.” Eldred Wareham was strangely drawn to his patient. He told his own story. It drew them closer together. When Moore died Wareham saw to it that he was decently buried. Moore had told the tavern keeper to turn .jover to Wareham what remained of his money. He had given to Wareham some papers he had concealed on his person.

It was two years later when Robert Dale left his prison duties for the first vacation of years. He was in fine fettle. He was about to see the stepdaughter he loved and whom he had not seen for nearly three years. He carried in his pocket a notification that on the first of the coming month he was to be promoted to the highest office at the prison within the gift of the state, at a salary almost princely. Dale arrived at Hopeton to be greeted joyously by Mary Dale. It was the third day after his coming that a man passed the house at whom he stared with a start. Quickly h# called his stepdaughter. "Who is that man?" he almost gasped. “That is the assistant of our old clergyman,” said Mary, and she blushed furiously. “Oh, papa,” she continued breathlesesly, "he is the friend and helper of everyone. He came here two years ago. He does not preach, although he takes half of the visiting duties off the shoulders of our minister. He is adored by the poor and friendless, he is beloved by everyone. And oh, papa—l lpve him—we are engaged!” Robert Dale made an excuse to shorten his visit’. He kept out of the way of this Alan Moore, he had recognized as Eldred Wareham. He left the place never to return and from the next town sent for Wareham, and learned his story—the story of a reformed man giving luster and glory to the name of poor, outcast Alan Moore. “Forget me and the past —you shall never be troubled,” asserted Dale. Then he went back to his prison duties. His first step was to refuse the promotion. His next to sturdily settle back into the rut of his inferior capacity, sacrificing to a sense of honor his own preferment that two young hearts might be happy.

DIFFERENCE IN LUNG POWER

Woman’s Voice Requires Far Les» Force Than That That Must Be Expended by a Man. According to a scientific theory a woman can -talk longer than a man and may do so because she uses less force by a large percentage than a man does. A German professor has proved by actual and. very delicate measurements that the baritone singer uses far more energy than either tenor or soprano. , This professor declared that the range of voice differs greatly, so the percentage varies to the same extent,* but as a general result it was proved that a tenor uses only from one seventh to one-sixteenth of the lung power of the baritone or bass. The difference in the force used by the contralto and soprano is very marked, and the contralto who sings in very deep tones uses at least ten times the force of the soprano. The explanation is so simple that it is surprising that it was not thought of long ago. It has long been known that the tenor dr soprano brings the vocal cords together and keeps the edges vibrating only by the emission of air. The bass or contralto leaves the space between the chords wider open, and has to vibrate much more of the membranes.

Caring for the Human Machine.

If you had an automobile that was your only means of getting about, and you could not under any circumstances replace with a new car in case you should disable it, you would take the greatest possible care of it. Each of us finds himself exactly in that situation in regard to the machine we ce ]} fha human hodv: yet we neglect the body more or less, and sometimes abuse it outrageously. We expect it to endure neglect, $o withstand abuse, and after years of hard usage to be in serviceable condition. —Youth’s Conk panion.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, INP.

FASHIONS’ EDICTS

THE LITTLE FLOWER GIRL Quite unconscious of her importance and wholly captivating, the little flower girl precedes the bride in the' wedding procession. She usually takes her duties seriously and performs her part with the grace of childhood, to the delight of everybody. She is no minor detail in the most beautiful of all processions and great costumers give her frock due consideration; also her hat and the other details of her finery. With what lovely results her clothes are thought out appears in the picture above. This little maid with pale gold curls wears a model by Becker made of shell pink taffeta, in a design that transforms the little wearer into an animated flower. Nothing could be simpler or jnore original. The frock is of shell pink taffeta with a long pointed waist and short puffs for sleeves. The full skirt flares and is made to stand out a t the bottom by a cording covered

FORERUNNERS OF SUMMER

If you ask the milliner that important question which she has been called upon to answer so often: “What are they wearing?” she may answer “everything,” and speak the truth. If there was ever anything in the way of materials or trimmings used in headwear, that has not reappeared In spring showings, let it be hoped no one will recall It. Not a thing is conspicuous by its absence, and the seeker after new millinery has too many things to choose among. There are hats large and hats small and, they have arrived to stay until the close of the season. These are hats In between. But the wise milliner might hint that there is less distinction in medium than in extreme sizes. She will be safe in recommending wide brimmed hats for either street or dressy wear. And she Bhould warn you against buying anything simple unless it be a sports hat, for the modes demand elaboration. Two midsummer hats with flounces of georgette crepe over their brims are pictured They are destined to win over the severest taste to their elaborate and fine style. The hat at the left is made entirely of crepe over » frame with brim wider at the back, than in front. It would be quite complete as a hat, without its ruffles. But fashion says flounces, so there are two of them that softly embrace the brim. There is a band of velvet ribbon about the crown with an “ingenue”

INSTRUCTIONS AND ADVICE BY JULIA BOTTOMLEY

with the silk. It is merely a deep ruffle. The floppy hat has a crown of pink taffeta edged with a ruffle of pink hair braid and is wreathed with little pink and blue forget-me-nots. It is worn at a saucy angle. Short silk stockings and delicate pink slippers finish the dainty costume. Among the blossoms in the rustic basket appear some like those which the bride chooses for floral decorations, in this case marguerites, pink roses and orange blossoms. ' - —— Another frock from the same designer and made for the same purpose, is of fine soft batiste. It has a scalloped edge at the bottom with small flower pattern above. The waist is very short and decorated with eyelet embroidery. The sleeves are small puffs with scalloped ruffles of the batiste having fine val lace set under the ruffles in a frill. This frock is worn over a pink silk slip and adorned with a big rosette of narrow pink ribbon at the left side of the waist

bow at the front. This would be the prettiest thing about the hat if it were not for a bouquet of violets and roses at the back. The hat at the right is a leghorn with facing of crepe chiffon. Flounces of crepe veil the upper brim and a monture of roses and buds springs from the crown. Just to show that she can add something more in trimming without having a bit too much the designer has looped narrow ribbon over the brim at the front and back and midway between.

Choose Becoming Styles.

The thing that impressed me in a recent shopping tour was that the latest fashions were worn by the old and young, thin and fat, blonde and brunette. There was not a note of individuality in the dress of the women. To this day I wonder at the sheeplike acceptance of women when it comes to style, F would think every woman realize that the suit, dress or wrap most becoming to one looks hideous on another; the color which will brighten the eyes, add a luster to the hair, and transparency to the skin for one woman will kill the same points in another. 1 Individuality is the keynote of the well-dressed woman’s wardrobe. I do not mean to wear freakish clothes so different from the fashlon thatlhey attract attention. I mean clothes that harmonize in color and line with the disposition, temperament and, build of the Nearer, which follow the trend of fashion, but are not mere fashion plates from some designer’s pen.

Tales of GOTHAM and other CITIES

Comes From Hell, but Finds Milwaukee Livelier MILWAUKEE— He was a short man, mild mannered, and had a pleasant smile, but he got the clerk’s goat at the Hotel Maryland when e registered, “Paul M. Fredericks, Hell.” „

Hell on the N. P., on the Mott branch, seven miles east of Elgin. Paradise is inland, and the only way that you can get there is by stage, and you can only go to Paradise three times a week from Morristown, D. Both of the towns are in Morton county, in southwestern North Dakota,” “How large are the towns?” asked one of the auditors. ( “We’ve got it all over Paradise; Hell’s more than twice as large, replied Fredericks. “In 1910 they had us almost equaled, but in the last two years Hell has grown fast, and if things keep up as they now are we will have a big place some day. - . . “Why, we have three churches in Hell now, while they have only one n Paradise. “Bill Hell is postmaster at Hell and Dick Hell does most of the driving, he has a fine livery business. “Over in Paradise there is not much doing. They have a woman handle the mails there, Eva Weinrich.” “Do you like Milwaukee?" Fredericks was asked. “Well, yes; Milwaukee is livelier than Hell and much larger. I think I’ll stay a while.”

Tough Man From Tough Country Got Tough Deal

OKLAHOMA ClTY.—James Murphy asked for a drink at the soda fountain in Roscoe Hadley’s drug store at the corner of California and Broadway and winked his left eye when he gave the order. That was the

way he had been accustomed to doing in Oilton, where he came from. Hadley drew the drink for him, but he left out the ingredients specified in the wink. Murphy took a swallow and then began to swear. It was just soda — nothing else. A woman was using Hadley’s tele : phone, and the druggist asked Murphy to cease swearing in her presence. Murphy set the glass down and. went out, but next day he returned

when Hadley was alone in his drug store. “I’m a mean, tough man,” Murphy said, leaning across the counter and plucking at Hadley’s sleeve. “I’m so bad that I’m almost afraid to be alone with myself. I come from a tough country where they start ’em in tough, and the older they grow the tougher they get. I’ve got some age on me, too. “About how tough are you?” asked Hadley. He saw Motor Cycle Officer Ollie Estes come in just them, but Murphy did not see him. , “Oh, I’m aw-ful tough,” said Murphy, and he reached for his gun, but instead of grasping the handle of the six-shooter he felt his wrist go into the grip of something that was like a vise. He turned and faced the officer, who already had Murphy’s revolver in the other hand. Murphy had told the truth about being tough, for he fought the policeman all over the room. Estes dropped the revolver and both men tried to reach it. Murphy nearly had his hand on it when Estes gave him a quick Jerk and sprawled him on the floor. Then the policeman jumped astride of him and held him down while Hadley called the automobile patrol. Three men came with it, but they had some difficulty in taking Murphy to jail. The drug store was a wreck.

Park Baboon Perks Up When He Gets Cigarettes

NEW YORK. —The doldrums of Leander, a dog-faced baboon of the Central park menagerie, went up in smoke the other day. Leander is back at his old cigarette habits. “Bill” Snyder, head keeper of the menagerie,

that he allowed Leander to resume smoking only after he had become convinced that such an exception to park policies was necessary to save the baboon’s life. . Leander was donated to the park department by a woman who purchased him as a “theatrical attraction.” The primate did not hail his commitment to a cage with any noticeable degree of hilarity. On the contrary, he seemed to grow moody. As the days went by Snyder noticed that he appeared to be wasting away. He would lie all day curled up in a corner of his cage and refuse to be comforted His despondency assumed such a serious turn that Snyder decided to call in the erstwhile owner for advice. She took one look at Leander and prescribed cigarettes. “He smoked them regularly when he was on the stage, the woman explained. “He always got that way when he ran out of them.’’

Change Name of the Bowery? Perish the Thought

miEW YORK.—The body of the late “Big Tim” Sullivan must turn in the W grave these days, as he hears the atrocity they are threatening to commit on his beloved Bowery. The street which takes its place with Wall,

Broadway and Fifth avenue as one of the historic thoroughfares about Which romance and legend entwine, is tfl lose its individuality in the comrrtdnplace cognomen of “Central Broadway." Probably the misguided merchants and bankers of the Bowery district think that “Broadway” alone or in association has an aroma of prosperity and sanctity which can be borrowed by a simple act of the city

fathers, ft is uot so. Whoever west. of Hoboken has heard of West Broadway or East Broadway? Yet these are the names of streets of many blocks’ lehgth, built up from end to end, and have been for decades. Let not the Bowery be merged Into the tens of thousands of nondescript streets which must make up the bulk of the big city. It was once the pleasant orchard of the Dutch, the “Bouwerie,” a trysting place fOr lovers. Later it became the favorite carriage drive north from the city, and the prominent citizens raced their trotters on its broad expanse. Then, as the city grew, it became the leading theatrical section, patronized by all the town. In still a later stage it was the, noisy, boisterous merrymaking section, where sailors, roughs, sightseers and knockabout persons from every quarter of the world mingled, fought, cursed in picturesque slang, and created thl curious atmosphere described in a thousand and one works of literature * xr» ■ a' ' * ’.O •-v ■ v -

“You hadenotta do that,” protested the clerk. “Don’t pull that hell stuff here." „ “But that's where I come from, spoke Fredericks. “Hell’s in North Dakota.” “Tell us some more,” Fredericks was asked by Manager F. B. Sweeney. “Well, Hell (sometimes spelled Hell), is 60 miles from Paradise," explained Fredericks, to the consternation of his hearers, “and we have some fine country. You see you go to

not only assumes full responsibility for the primate’s lapse from Puritan principle, but shamelessly says he will connive in his pet’s pleasurable peccadillo to the extent of laying in a gererous supply of tobacco for him. Indeed, Snyder is on the verge of asking the park department for an appropriation to buy cigarettes for the menagerie denizens, his theory being that the habit will spread at least through the primate house. The head keeper says, however,