Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 118, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 May 1916 — Page 3

SUBLIME COURAGE AS IT IS SEEN IN THE HOSPITALS BEHIND VERDUN

Unconquerable Spirit of the French Soldier Is Manifested at Receiving Stations, Where Stir of Battle and incentive to Brave Deeds Are Lacking—Day With Wounded Described in Graphic Letter From Noted Writer.

Paris. —The unconquerable spirit of the French soldier, as manifested in the field hospital to which the American ambulance among others hurry the seriously wounded from the relief stations in the immediate rear of the lighting lines at Verdun, is told in graphic fashion by a noted French writer, A. Volllis, as a result of a trip which he was permitted to make in the fifth week of the great battle. “On the previous day,” he writes, “the great guns had been roaring unceasingly, with a hoarse, thunderous noise and with formidable explosions of fury which made the windows rattle and caused the last of the snow to fall from* the roofs. On this morning the silence is almost complete. ‘“lt is a sign that the infantry is attacking,’ says the sergeant in charge of supplies, who is something of a strategist. ‘We are soon going to be busy.’ “Very soon the dull roll of the ambulances is heard. It can be recognised among the bounding and tearing noises of the ordinary wagons. “The bell rings three times, which means that there are three wounded men, and the litters are hurriedly brought out into the yard. “The stretcher is always the cause of a special touch of emotion. Will they be able to save the wounded man? Is it life or is it death? Glad to Be Alive. "In the case of the two first comers there is nothing serious to fear. They are two sublieutenants, two boys, and they have become acquainted on the way. Although their looks are still full of astonished stupefaction, they try to laugh, happy at having fought well

and at being alive, even merely alive, although a thigh has been broken and a lung pierceij. One of them has his helmet tightly pressed on his breast. " ‘No, don’t take it away; don’t take it away,’ he pleads. ‘I shall take it to bed with me; it is my friend, my savior,’ and he points to an enormous slash in the blue steel. ‘To think that I came off so easy! With only a damaged leg.’ “The other smiles gently as be breathes heavily. He is blond, with a light down on his cheeks and his eyes are blue, and his whole appearance boyish. »‘T,lf>ntena.nt.’ savs the attendant who is emptying his pockets, ‘you have a military card and letters which are not in your name.’ “The young man raises his eyebrows. “ ‘Oh, yes, 1 remember,’ he says suddenly. *1 had just been hit, and they placed me against the bank; I was nearly frozen and my teeth were chattering. In the neighborhood a company was about to start to the attack. Then one of the soldiers, an old fellow with a big mustache and kindly eyes, leaned over me and said, “You are cold, poor boy.” He took off his coat and threw it over me, and then I saw him running in his shirtsleeves to' catch up with the others.’ “ ‘Here is a photograph of his wife and children,’ said the attendant, ‘and also his purse.’ “It was a worn leather purse, with a gold piece, a few cents, and three cigarettes in it, the entire fortune of the poilu. “ ‘What a good fellow,’ sighs the little lieutenant. ‘I don’t know him and it would not be easy to find him now; it will be a case for the special bureau.’ “ ‘A major and a captain,’ announces an ambulance driver. The Dying Major.

“The major's gray head shakes with the movement of the carriers. His eyelids are like dark cavities in a face frightfully discolored. His purple lips continuously murmur words in a spasmodic and touching way: ‘Quick —Telephone—They are holding—More munitions—Ah, thS 4 fine boys!—They have gdt there —Fine!’ “Someone raises the covering, and from the neck to the feet the great body of the major is revealed wound up in reddened bandages, like a mummy in rusted strips. At the first relief post they had not spared their pains in dressing his wounds. “ ‘Are you suffering, major?’ he 1b asked. “His eyelids slowly uncover the already dimmed pupils. His distant look turns to the fresh face of the attendant and to the white cap of the nurse, and then, with a peculiar accent of gentleness and exhaustion, he says: * 'No, my boy; no,-my little girl.' “His eyelids drop suddenly, closed forever. “ ‘Madame,’ an attendant says to the chief nurse, ‘please tell the captain that he is not reasonable, lie wants to get into bed by himself, and a fragment of shell in his side.’ “The captain is a young officer of chasseurs, slender, vigorous, with his cap on his ear. Seated on the stretcher, he is making efforts to rise, and a little grimace twists his mouth. «‘Madame/ he says, % present my compliments. I don’t want to be carried. I am not a little girl. What would my chasseurs Say? Ah, madame, the fine boys, the fine boys! If you had seen them climb out of the trenches to attack the flood of Germans, andv they fell; I saw them fall;

my sergeants, my lieutenants, my .orderly—and he was Buch a good boy; but the others kept on running forward. It was magnificent. And then this wretched piece of shell caught me in the ribs, and how those boys looked after me. They carried me in an overcoat, and when a shell exploded they lay down on me, they actually covered me with their bodies. And to think that I left them out there all alone, my chasseurs, my boys!’ “ ‘My boys,’ sounded strange from so young an officer. “ ‘Yes, madame, I promise you I am going to be calm. I have now plenty of time. What, help me to undress?. Ah. no, thanks; not that.’ “.‘W’ell,’ said the nurse with a sigh, ‘that means 104 degrees of fever this evening.’ “Gradually the beds are filled. Each little room has its share of suffering—of silent suffering. The seriously wounded do not complain much. “The chief surgeon and his assistants come along. He has just left the operating room; his linen coat is stained with blood and he holds his hands, cqvered with rubber gloves, high in the air. Under his white cap his face, crossed by a thin mustache, appears thin and hollow, with the strained, sharp expression evoked by a day of work at high pressure. "He stops before each bed, consults the chart, makes a brief examination and pronounces a few brief words. No time to lose,'for there will be operations all night long. The Battle With Death.

“ ‘Send this one to the operating room at once. Yes, captain; it will be a quick affair. Send that one next. Give him 800 centilitres of serum in the meantime. Give that other one camphorated oil; maximum dose.’ “It is the bitter, determined struggle against death, which is eagerly on the watch. "There is a more lengthy delay at the bed of a lieutenant who has just been brought in. His stiff hair is curly and his face is like a sculpture in clear bronze. His eyes are of a bright, clear color and they look sharply at the faces that bend over him.

“‘All right!’ says the surgeon at last,'in a gentle voice. His eyes wandered to the bed table and he observed an open letter in a graceful feminine handwriting, on which the three words, ‘I love you!’ stand out sharply. He covered up the wounded officer and tucked in the covering around him quite tenderly. “ ‘We shall not touch you tonight,’ he adds. ‘You are not suffering too much? Good, you will have a sedative. Rest well and good-night.’ “As the surgeon leaves the room he makes a gesture across his abdomen from one side to the other and whispers: ‘He is lost; cut right across. He has no pulse and he will hot live till morning. And what a magnificent boy; such courage and such a brave look. It’s dreadful to feel that one can do nothing.’ “ ‘Madame, the lieutenant with the

CHAMPION OF THE BIRDS

T. Gilbert Pearson, secretary of the National Association, of Audubon Societies, with headquarters in New York, has put bird protection in America on a practical basis. Appointed financial agent for the association upon its formation seven years ago, he raised funds for carrying on the work effectively and has since been instrumental in placing bird-protecting laws on the statute books of a majority of the states, besides organizing birdstudy classes among toge school children of the country.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

curly hair wishes to speak to you,’ says ano attendant. The nurae returns to the room on the tips of her toes. * “ ‘Madame,’ the lieutenant says calmly, 'I ask for you because I am lost.’ The Great Sacrifice. “‘You lost! Why talk such foolishness?' “ ‘Thanks, madame, but it is useless to deceive me. I am lost; I feel it, and I know it; Oh, I am not complaining; so many of my comrades are gone. It was my turn; that’s all. Besides, I have the immense Joy of knowing that I die for something. They will not get to Verdun and they are wearing out. Only (and he turns to the darkening window), only I would have liked to see the sun again. Madame, I have some letters here and a photograph. Will you do me the favor to burn them?’ “The bronzed hand reaches out and seizes the papers on the table and presses them over his breast, which rises in a sigh. For a brief moment his fingers tremble and his mouth contracts. Then he holds out the papers. “‘Take them. Thanks.' “He is silent. His sacrifice has been consummated. Tears fall from the nurse’s eyes on her white bodice and on the love letters, which she presses tight. “ ‘My mother,’ begins the lieutenant again. “ ‘Do you wish to dictate a letter for her?’ “There is a pause. ‘No; I am not strong enough. You will tell her. You will know best how to tell her.’ “His eyes close, and then all at once they open again. “My notebook. All my war life is inscribed in it, day by day. I have entered the date Of my wound. When all is over, will you please add the day and the hour.’ “The nurse nods her head affirmatively. “ ‘Thanks once more, madame; yon are kind. You must not cry. Go back to the others, who need you more. Good-night, madame.’ “The courage which has not as stimulus the fever and intoxication of battle, the call of duty or the example of a superior, courage naked and sublime, is the courage on the hospital bed.

Reminiscences of the Day. x “The wounded continued to arrive. There are hardly any beds unoccupied. Some young officers who can be moved —broken arms, bullet in the shoulder and general wounds —will be sent to the rear in the evening. They are seated around a fire in their muddy uniforms, which are torn and stained with blood, and they chat in low tones, for there are three comrades in bed near them. They are talking of the recent fighting and their movemeifts are feverish and their eyes shine. “ ‘How funny you looked, old man,’ says one to another, ‘as you ran forward, with your hair in the wind and a bagful of grenades on your stomach like an opossum.’ “ ‘Did you see Lieutenant X —-7-? After the first attack he waved his yellow gloves and said in that mincing voice of his: “Is not this shelling ridiculous? Those poor Boches'have no sense of art.” ’ > “ ‘All the same, with his gloves and his funny voice, X is more reckless than all of us together.’ “ ‘Oh, for reckless bravery— ’

“Another stretcher shakes the stairs. At the top there is a pause. Then a gentle voice is heard: 9 “ ‘Macjame, it would be awfully good of you if you could find a little eau de cologne for me. A few drops would do. I am really ashamed to be brought into your presence in such a dreadfully unclean condition.’ “The tones are soft and clear and just a trifle affected. No Sympathy Desired. “The three officers rise and dash forward. “‘Why, it is X !’ “‘Here I am,’ he replied. ‘A littlq late, but I was occupied.' “ Where are you wounded?’ “The young man, very pale, lifts the covering and raises with an effort the stump of an arm. “ ‘You have lost an arm? Already amputated! ’ “ ‘Yes, it was a very ugly bruised mess and disgusted me, so we had it off.’ “ ‘Poor old chap!’ . “ ‘Nonsense. With a nice little artificial hand with a glove over it, no one will tell the difference. Besides, it’s cleaner for some purposes. You fellows used to make fun of my gloves. I was just practicing.’ “‘X , you are wonderful. And how were things going when you left the front?’ “ ‘Fine, marvelously. The Boches were falling like tenpins. And not an inch did they gain, my boy, not a single inch.’ ”

COCONUT IS SENT BY MAIL

Address Burned on Oval Sent From Hawaii —Stamps Affixed to ■f Outer Covering. Huntington Park, Cal.—The queerest piece of mail matter in local post-’ offlce history arrived recently addressed to Dr. Sigmund Frey, head of the Jewish Orphans’ home, A coconut from Hawaii was delivered to him. The nut was still within its original fibrous covering and the address had been burned into the smooth outer surface with a burning needle. Sixty cents’ worth of stamps were necessary for postage, stuck on thf nut itself.

SPECIAL FISH DISHES

THREE RECIPEB THAT ARE THE BEST OF THE KIND. Excellent Meal Whera Blueflsh of Mackerel Are Available —Pudding That Is Liked by Many—Fried Scallops a Delicacy. , Broiled Blueflsh or Mackerel.—-Blue-fish and mackerel are never better than when broiled. To do this as it should be done, grease a wire broiler. If there is a coal fire, use one of the double sort. The same sort of broiler can be slipped on the regular gas broiler and makes it far easier to handle fish in a gas stove. Grease the fish, after it has been cleaned and dried. Olive oil is good to grease both fish and broiler, and first cook the skin side —for about two . minutes. Turn and cook the side without skin until the fish is done. Loosen the fish from the broiler carefully with a sharpknife, and slip it on to a hot platter. Spread with maitre d’hotel butter or plain butter, and garnish with parsley and pieces of lemon. If the fish is broiled over a coal fire, turn it several times to begin with, but do most of the cooking on the side without skin.

Fish Pudding.— For this fish pudding, two pounds of fresh haddock, bass, or cod are required. Remove the bones from the fish raw, and chop it fine. Add a teaspoonful of salt, a shake or two of mace, a tablespoonful of flour, three of melted butter, a beaten egg and, gradually, a quart of very rich milk. Beat all together thoroughly and pour into buttered mold which has been lined with fine crumbs. Stand the mold in a pan of hot water In the oven and bake slowly for an hour. Serve with a rich white sauce, to which the yolk of one egg, beaten with a teaspoonful of lemon Juice, is added just before taking from the fire. Fried Scallops.—Wash a quart of scallops and drain them as dry as possible. Then plunge them into boiling water and boil until tender. Drain again. Mix a few tablespoonfuls of flour with salt and pepper. Wipe the scallops as dry as possible, dip them in the seasoned flour, then in a beaten egg and then in fine cracker crumbs, and drop into hot, deep fat to brown. When brown remove, drain for a minute on paper, and serve very hot with crisp broiled bacon and tartar sauce. Garnish with slices of lqmon and tiny springs of fresh parsley.

Cheese Aigrettes.

One-fourth pound * flour, two ounces butter, one half pint water, two eggs and one yolk, two ounces grated cheese, pepper, salt and cayenne. Put butter and water into saucepan; when boiling, add the flour and cook until the mixture-leaves 4he -sides us the pan. Take from the fire, add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each. Add the cheese and seasoning. Turn on to plate, divide into rough pieces about the size of a walnut and fry in deep fat to a golden brown. Drain well and serve at once. The fat must not be too hot, as it will take about five minutes to cook through.

Parsnip Fritters.

Take three or four good-sized parsnips; boil until tender, mash and season with a little butter, a pinch of salt and a slight sprinkling of pepper. Have ready a plate with .sifted flour on it; drop a tablespoon of the parsnip in flour and roll it about until well coated and form into a ball. When you have a sufficient number ready drop them into boiling drippings or lard as you would a doughnut; fry a delicate brown and serve hot. Do not put them in a covered dish, for that would steam them and deprive them of their crispness, which is their great charm.

Salade a I’Allemande.

Break some well washed crisp lettuce leaves or endive into little pieces, dry them; cut some celery, cooked beetroot and peeled cucumber in julienne strips, keeping the celery in cold water till crisp; cut into strips some cold cooked chicken or other poultry, some flleted anchovies and Spanish olives. Place all these in a salad bowl, season with pepper, salt, chopped shallot, tarragon and chervil, pour over the whole some stiff mayonnaise and garnish with a few shreds of red chillies and gherkins, also some sieved hard-boiled yolk of egg and little strips of beetroot.

Date Muffins.

One-half cupful sugar, two cupfuls dates, cut in pieces, two cupfuls milk, one-half teaspoonful salt, one-fourth cupful butter or three tablespoonfuls manufactured shortening, four cupfuls flour, three eggs, two teaspoonfuls baking powder. Cream butter, add sugar and the well-beaten eggs. Add milk and flour, which has been sifted with salt and baking powder, alternately. Beat thoroughly and add dates. Pour into buttered muffin tins and bake.—Mothers’ Magazine.

Banana Cream.

After peeling bananas mash with an iron or wooden spoon. Allow equal quantities of bananas and sweet cream; to one quart of the mixture allow one-qaarter of a pound of sugar. Beat them all together until the cream Is light.

Batter Pudding.

One egg, one tablespoonful of flour, half cupful milk, a pinqh of salt (this may be increased up to six parts of each ingredient). Steam in cupfuls one hour. Serve with any sweet sauce.

Jamaica's Fascinating Markets

THERE are two great public markets in Kingston, Jamaica, where the natives sell fruit and vegetables and all sorts of local commodities for little more than a song. These are Victoria Market, by the harbor at the foot of King street, where war vessels and colliers sail into pqrt across the blue waters of the Caribbean almost daily, and Jubilee Market, further uptown, and fronting the public square where are the great banyan trees and all manner of tropical plants. The daily supplies are brought to market by the natives in large flat baskets borne on their heads or in panniers on the backs of ifee small burros that are the burden bearers of the island, says a writer in the New York Sun. These little beasts, hardly larger than big dogs, are led or driven, their owers generally walking beside them. In the open spaces of the market woman venders take up their positions for the day on the bare ground or perhaps seated on low boxes, with their slender stock in. trade spread out in tittle heaps about ttrem:These consist of a few yams, or bread fruit, or naseberries, or whatever they may chance to have, and upon which they make during the long sunny days oply a few pennies profit. They pay about a shilling and sixpence per week as license for the space that they and their wares occupy and clear scarcely enough to supply even their simplest necessities. Yet for the most part they are cheerful and happy, and the soft, continuous patter of their voices as they gossip and trade all day suggests the name of the tree, "Women’s Tongues," whose dry pods rustle together so musically In the country lanes.

It does one good at any time to make the tour of the market, walking among the women with their strange fruits and vegetables, and buying a penny’s worth here and a ha’penny’s worth there for the sheer delight of it all. "Buy a ripe banana!” they will call out mellifluously, or “Buy a sweet orange!” or “Ha’penny! Ha’penny! Buy a cake!" And looking down into their engaging brown faces One desires forthwith to buy everything. A quartee, or “penny-’a’-penny,’ as they say quickly with soft elision, is a favorite coin among the small denominations; it is a quarter of sixpence, and for this price one can buy three or four oranges, or perhaps twice as many bananas. A stranger rarely ever cares to pay more than this for star apples' or naseberries, which require an educated taste for enjoyment; but pawpaws, resembling our cantaloupes, and cho-chos, similar to our white squash, are delicious. As for tangerines and guava, they are Joys forever. Market Women In Bcrap. Picking my way gingerly one day among the scores of seated and stooping venders, and being very careful not to step into the little piles of peppers and what not that were outspread everywhere, I plunged into the midst of a lively scrap between two colored women. One of them, who had been seated on a box in the sunshine, irascible with her long vigil, had picked bp her seat and moved it back plump into the midst of her neighbor and her neighbor’s wares, all outspread together on the ground. The result was a scrimmage, with much pushing and chattering, all of which was so funny that my amusement set them laughing also, and the trouble wound up in a good natured romp among them. And, oh, but the sun was hot, and the blinding white light quivered out upon the waters of the harbor. A row of stalls runs along one side of the market, where sticky sweets are sold, most unappetizing to foreign sensibilities. The stuff is ladled out of great dingy cans and sold in penny worths and farthing amounts or more. Near this row of stick ghee are racks and stacks of flimsy cotton goods and ribbon, laces and embroideries, all immaculately fresh and clean, though

IN THE JUBILEE MARKET, KINGSTON

scarcely three feet removed from the sweets. There are piles also of linen and cotton prints, whose cheapness the venders loudly proclaim as they stand measuring the goods off by the yard and selling it at ridiculously low prices. It was near this place that a woman buying embroidery that trailed down into the dust, held in her arms a plump little brown baby. It chuckled and held out its hands to me, playing like a kitten. I found that the only name by which it was known was “Da-da.” Later, on the edge of the crowd that overflowed into the street, I discovered little “Murenne Cole," black as a coal, hiding behind her mother’s skirts and laughing up Into my face. The brown babies in Jamaica are irresistible. There are many coolie women in the markets, who sell fruits and vegetables as well as their odd East Indian trinkets. These women are bedecked with heavy silver ornaments, in which they invest most of their limited means, and the necklaces, bracelets, rings, anklets and bangles with which they are -loaded down, display - exquisiteworkmanship and design. The manner in which many of these ornaments are worn indicates caste, and a lot of filigree work disfiguring the nostril proclaims a married woman. These Eastern women are always picturesque and often beautiful. Wistful and fawnlike, with soft, dusky skins, they are as shy and proud as wild animals. Tobacco by the Yard. Over in one corner of the market place colored men sell ropes of strong native tobacco by the yard and suggest that strangers take home a few yards as souvenirs. Into the meat and fish markets, presided over chiefly by men, I could not persuade myself to go, as everything was too 111-smelling and unsightly; but I poked about unhesitatingly everywhere else. The most delightful of all the stands are where they sell native basket work and beads; the latter being seeds of various colors and sizes, strung in long necklaces, and selling at sixpence each. The venders of these bead strings, with long bunches of them hanging over arm or shoulder, hawk their wares everywhere, haunting the piers and railway station and victimizing travelers. It seemed to me as if they were always on the lookout for myself, for I found it impossible to refuse and bought dozens of them, red and black, brown and yellow, and dove colored Job’s Tears that seem to have been wept all over the island. The baskets are equally tempting and are of every conceivable shape and size, from tiny ornaments and shapes for ordinary usage to great hampers and suit cases. In suitcase form they cost but a shilling or two. and are extremely light and highly serviceable.

Then there are knicknacks and fancy articles made of bamboo Joints and palm leaf, candle shades and mats made of cotton fiber or lace bark; and cocoanuts carved and decorated in endless designs. It is a morning’s treat to examine them all, and buy here a bit and there a bit, until an astonishing number of shillings and pence have been transmuted into baskets and beads. And then there is the sweet smelling cos-cos grass, that costs but a penny a bunch and leaves the things in one’s trunk perfumed ever after. Coming away after a morning's stroll through Jubilee Market I helped a big, slatternly darky girl to pin up her skirt, which was slipping loose, and received a grinning “Tanky. Missy, tanky!” in reward. Then-passing over to a stall where another darky woman sold oranges I Btopped and bought four for a quarter. It was very And thea the orange woman wanted to return with me to New York, as the darkies everywhere wanted to do. being willing to work tor next to nothing for the opportunity of coming to the States. They are so pitifully poor in their own country!