Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 162, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 July 1916 — Page 2

The Red Mirage

BYNOPBI6. ! Wh«n Sylvia Omney, a beautiful EngWh gtrl, returns from a search In Algiers •or her missing brother, her lover, Richard Farquhar, finds she has fallen In love with Amaud of the Foreign Leklon. In Captain Sower's room Farquhar Sets deliberately drunk, but when young Keeton loses all his money to Lowe, a ahady character, Farquhar forces Sower to have Preston's I. O. U.’s returned to fiw. Farquhar Is helped to his rooms by Oabrlelle Smith.

“The call of fighters to the lighting man” —do you know what It means to respond to the eall of your country when It asks you to defond it against threatening enemies? Imagine what the sound of bugles and tramping feet and the eight of streaming khaki-clad men means to the Engllehman these days.

CHAPTER ll—Continued. "Now lie down. Tour head is aching furiously I have no doubt, and probably yon have work in front of yon like other mortals. I have some eau-de-Cologne upstairs. Don’t jeer. I am going to fetch it.” “Walt a minute. Won’t you please tell me your name?” She put her head a little on one aide. "Gabrielle —Gabrlelle Smith. Not very euphonious, Is it? But one’s baptism is the first occasion where the great law concerning the sins of the fathers comes Into operation. Now—” “And won’t you tell what you are?” “That’s a large question. I wish I knew myself. Officially I am anything from a traveling companion to an unsatisfactory nursemaid, in either case out of a job. Is that what you want?” He closed his eyes wearily. “I don’t know —you have been awfully—decent —it all seems rather like a grotesque, gigantic dream from which I can’t wake up—” His voice died away. When she came back with her eau-de-Cologne bottle and a handkerchief be was asleep. CHAPTER 111. The Great Law In Force. When Richard Farquhar awoke from his heavy sleep it was broad daylight. He dressed, and by midday was on duty. Those who had witnessed the scene on the preceding night glanced at him curiously, but his face betrayed nothing—neither weariness nor the self-disgust usual on such occasions. They saw he had changed, but the change was Indefinable. They saw, also, that, whatever else had happened, be had not apologized to Sower. The two men exchanged the curtest and most perfunctory greeting.

By seven o’clock he stood again in the Omneys’ library, and Sylvia Omney stood on the threshold waiting. She was simply dressed in a dark, clinging material which set off more perfectly the fair sweetness of her features. “Yon wanted to speak to me, Richard?” “Yes; good of you to come. I know I hadn’t the right to ask. I behaved vilely last night.” She looked up into hiS face with an Innocent wonder. “Did you? I didn’t see it. I only thought that you were Just as I had always believed you to be —generous and chivalrous and loyal.” H'fe still held her hand, and with a grave courtesy he led her to the great armchair by the fire. She sat there, her head bent like a frail flower, and he turned away from her for a moment, his face colorless. “I want to tell you that I know,” he went on quietly. “I thought it would save you trouble if I told you. One has a line instinct in these things, and last night I felt suddenly that I had gone out of your life. It hurt me unbearably for a time.” “I am to marry Captain Amaud,” she said, with a note of defiance in her low voice. “That can make no difference. I take you with me always. You understand?” "Yes,” she said. “Then good-by.” She must have felt that he was bringing up his last reserve of selfcontrol, yet she rose impulsively with outstretched hands. “Good-by, Richard. Forgive me—and God bless you.” He turned abruptly and left her Without answer. Outside a gray twilight already shrouded the pompous London square. Above the immediate silence there •ounded the note of a bugle, and after that the long-drawn-out wail of the bagpipers. Some regiment on the Inarch forward. Richard Farquhar lifted his head and listened. It came (down to him through the ages, the call jof fighters to the fighting man, the Command of duty. That much was fieft Richard Farquhar turned and Went homeward. | As he entered and saw Robert Sower (standing by the fireside, his gloved

A Stjpry of the French Legion in Algiers

By I. A. R. WYLIE

“My father lived a few hours,” Sower went on deliberately. “He was a Jew, but he was a great man. He held your father in his power. He could have bad his pound of flesh. He had mercy. He let your father go—on three conditions. The first condition was that he withdrew his offer to the foreign power, the second that 'he resigned his commission,' the third that he left the country. These things he did.” “My father died in Africa,” Farquhar said. “So I have been told.” There was a long silence. Sower studied the younger man out of the corner of his eyes. There was something he did not fully understand —a phase of humanity that did not fit in with his carefully drawn up catalogue. This red-hot temperament grown suddenly cold frightened him. It was like handling an unknown explosive. “Your father signed a confession in front of witnesses. You will understand that in view of the circumstances it was felt necessary to have some hold over him. Here Is the paper.” Farquhar accepted the neatly folded document and took it nearer to the light. He read It carefully without any trace of emotion. “I understand.” He held the paper thoughtfully, as though weighing it. “Of course it is obvious that this is of great value to me. How much do you want?” “I am in no need of money. It is your career or mine,” he said. “You must resign. Half an hour since I would have been satisfied with an apology.” Farquhar nodded. v “I give you my word of honor that I shall send In my papers tonight in return for this letter.”

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hands behind bis back, hls whole attitude expressive of a cool self-certainty, hls very pulses seemed to stop and then break into a hammering gallop of triumph. He closed the door sharply, and Sower turned. “Well?” Farquhar said quietly. “I have come for your apology.” “Then you have come on a fruitless errand.” A tremor seemed to pass over Sower’s body.' The brown, slightly protruding eyes flickered. Suddenly and terribly hls self-restraint broke down. "t am the Jew, am I not —the son of a Jew? —Very well —now I shall act like one!” He began to pace the room with short, feverish steps. “I am going to tell you something no one has ever heard before. Only three people know it, and they have held their tongues — your mother and Major Mowbray. No—don’t interrupt. You can’t silence me with those damned eyes of yours. You’ve got to listen. You don’t remember your father, do you? He was in India When you were a child, and your mother does not speak very often of him. You see how well I know things. But you are very proud of him—and rightly. He was a brilliant soldier and something of an Inventor. He invented a gun that, though It would be twenty years old now, would still rank head and shoulders above anything we have. It was unfortunate that he spent more than he had and gambled with what he did not possess. The British government was, as usual, dilatory and parsimonious. Colonel • Farquhar offered his invention to a foreign power. My father knew everything. I was a young subaltern at the time. My father felt it hls duty to Inform the authorities. Previous to this he and Colonel Farquhar had been Intimate. As a last act of friendship he warned your father of hls purpose. Your father murdered him.

“I accept your word. The letter is In your hands.” Farquhar started slightly and then smiled. “Ah, I might have burned it. You are a man of remarkable discernment. Well, our bargain is closed. Idare say I have to thank you for your long silence in this matter. But virtue is its own reward. Good night.” Sower took up his hat from the table. He,frowned, at his own hand, which shook. “You are confoundedly cool about It all,” he said. “One would think you didn’t care.” The door closed. Farquhar went back to his writing table. He did not tear up the yellow, faded letter, but propped it against a bronze candlestick and sat there staring at it with blank eyes. Then he began to write. He wrote four letters. One was to the war office.' When he had finished he opened a drawer and took out an arfty revolver, which he examined and then loaded carefully. He switched off the electric lamp. He went over to the hearth and stamped his fathers confession into the embers. The polished barrel winked like an evil silver eye in the reflected firelight. “Mr. Farquhar—are you there?” His hand still lifted, frozen by surprise into immobility, he saw in the glaps opposite him that the door had opened. Against “the dimly lighted

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, INP.

passage outside he recognized the neat silhouette of a woman’s figure. The next instant the room was flooded with light “Oh, I beg your pardon. It was so qnlet and dark I did not know you were in. I came for my eau-de-Co-logne—” She stopped. He had turned instantly, but not in time. Her eyes rested on his hand. “Oh!” she said under her breath. She closed the door and came quietly across the room till she stood opposite him. “What were you going to do, Mr. Farquhar?” He threw back hls head. He was still very young, and In a minute more he had counted on facing the mysteries of life and death. His face was ghastly In its rigid resolve and dread. “I don’t think it’s much good lying about it, Miss Smith,” he said, with a short laugh. "No.” She nodded. “You were going to kill yourself. I have seen that before. My father blew out his brains. It was an act of sudden madness. Money drove him mad. Is it money with you?" “No. I have lost everything.” “There is always the light ahead.” “I don’t understand —” She turned to him with an expression that was new to him. The small, thin face seemed illuminated with an inward fire. “There is a light somewhere,” she said, and her voice rang with stem enthusiasm. “It must exist —and if it does not exist we must light it ourselves, with our own hands, with our own ideals. We must have It or believe in it.” His hand, resting on the mantelpiece, relaxed. The revolver rang against the marble. “You say that,” he said harshly—“you who have not had a square meal for a fortnight!” She threw back her head. “Who dared tell you that?” “Never mind. I know It.” She said nothing, but the color died

“No," She Nodded, "You Were Going to Kill Yourself."

out of her cheeks. He turned from her and buried his face in his arms, and there was a little silence. Then he felt her hand on his shoulder. _ “Do you think I should have the courage or the meanness to tell you to go on if I did not know in my own body what going on meant? Disgrace, poverty, loss—l know them all. But one can’t throw down one’s weapons in the first skirmish. I haven’t, and you shan't. Promise me. I am not going to leave you till vou do.” ; £ “Yes,” he said. He held out his hand and she gave him hers. He noticed for the first time that it was white and unusually beautiful in shape. She saw the wonder in his eyes and drew back. “Thank you. I believe that your life will be of use some day to yourself or another. I dare say I shall be even glad that I helped to save it. Good-by,” “I may see you again—” “We may meet again, but I think not. I have a job, and am going abroad soon. May I take this with me as a souvenir?” She had picked up the revolver from the mantelpiece, and their eyes met. “Yes,” be said simply.

Ones again we see what the influence of a good woman will do for a man. How do you think Gabrielle Smith will affect Richard's life from this point forward?

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

First Woman Recruiting Officer Opens Station

Miss Payne In Front of Enlistment Station Established by Her in New York City.

Uncle Sam’s first woman recruiting “officer" recently opened headquarters in New York. This “officer”—Miss Edna Payne, a pretty California girl —is not recognized officially as a representative of the United States government. She didn’t obtain the job from Uncle Sam; she just created the job and appointed herself to fill it. Miss Payne became imbued with the idea that she would like to assist in securing recruits for Uncle Sam’s army and navy, so with her sister, Miss Lillian, who accompanied her to New York from California several months ago, she established an enlistment station. Clad in sailor’s cap and middy, Miss Payne stationed herself in front of the station, distributed reading matter relative to the opportunities offered by service in the army and navy, and brought many recruits daily to- the regular army and navy officers In charge of the New York enlistment stations. -

BIG NEW INDUSTRY GROWS FROM CANNING MOVEMENT

Uncle Sam’s Efforts Enable Women and Girls to Make Money and Stop Huge Waste on the Farms. Uncle Sam and his aids In the department of agriculture have created a great new industry for the women and girls of the country. So far this Industry has been developed most highly In the southern states, but it is expected that it will be extended throughout the remainder of the country. Last year 50,000 girls in 15 southern states each made an average profit of $23.30 in this new industry, it is estimated. The canning movement, initiated by the government several, years ago, is responsible for the birth of this new industry. There has always been a great waste on,the farms of the country because of the excess of fruit and vegetables for which a ready market could not be found. The women and girls are now being taught to put a stop to this waste by canning the surplus crops for home use or for sale during the ensuing year. Canning clubs have been organized by government representatives for the purpose of encouraging this work, but where there is no club individual women and girls can obtain from Uncle Sam full instructions and recipes so that they can engage in this work irtrithout the of an y organization.

BOOSTS COMMUNITY CENTERS

Commissioner of Education Is Distributing Copies of Songs Designed for Schoolhouse Forums. Five community center songs, especially designed for schoolhouse community forums, have been brought together for the use of the Grover Cleveland forum of Washington, of which Miss Margaret Wilson is honorary president, and copies may be obtained from the commissioner of education, department of the interior, Washington. Two of the songs are entirely new, having just made their bow to the public at the Grover Cleveland forum. One is called "It’s a Short Way to the Schoolhouse,” and is sung to* the air of “Tipperary;” the other, entitled “Neighborhood," is sung to the air of “Die Wacht am Rhein.” The others ar4; “The Fellowship of Folks”—a song of neighborhood, sung to the air of “Dring to Me Only With Thine Eyes” or “Auld Lang Syne;” "Heart and Hand,” and “This Good Common Ground.” These songs all emphasize the significance of the schoolhouse as the common meeting place. All five songs were written by E. J. Ward, supecialist in community organization of the bureau of education. They are .unusually w&l adapted to the communal singing that has become so popular a feature of the neighborhood meetings in the schoolhouse. _

CHANCE DISCLOSES SOURCE OF POTASH

United States May Be Freed From Dependence Upon Foreign Supply. CEMENT MILLS’ DUST USED Surprising Discovery Is Made While Efforts Are Being Made to Prevent Fumes From Damaging California Orange Groves. Uncle Sam’s chemical experts believe that by the merest chance, in an effort to abate a serious nuisance, which was menacing the orange groves of California, a discovery has been made which may result in giving the United States an adequate supply of potash for fertilizing purposes and thus free this country from its absolute dependence upon Germany for this miich-needed commodity. While the government experts say it is too early to make a sweeping prediction, they are optimistic and are conducting their investigations along these lines.

In the past the United States has paid tribute to Germany to the extent of $20,000,000 a year for potash, so necessary for enriching the soil, especially in the cotton-growing districts of the South. The European war, however, stopped these importations, and, necessity being the stern mother of invention, the federal chemists and others accelerated their efforts toward finding a potash supply In this country. The latest discoveries, which promise to free the United States from the dominance of Germany in regard to this valuable product, came about accidentally, aB have many other Important discoveries. A great cement mill in the or-ange-growing regions of California was sending tons of dust daily Into the air, the winds carrying the dust and depositing it on the orange groves, much to their detriment. When the owners protested, the cement mill men began buying in the nearest groves at SI,OOO an &pre, but finally had to give this up as being too expensive. Suits were filed and injunctions asked. About this time the attention of the cement-mill owners was attracted to an invention of Dr. F. G. Cottress for the precipitation of dusts from smelters’ fumes. Doctor Cottrell, who later became the chief metallurgist of the United States bureau of mines, worked out this process while a professor at the University of California several years ago. The ce-ment-mill men decided to experiment with the new invention, and the Cottrell process was installed. The surprising result was that the new process not only eliminated the dust fumes, but gave the cement people a product that contained a great amount of potash. The results are said to have been so satisfactory that It was thought for a while that the potash nlight prove to be the main product of some cement mills, with the manufacture of cement only a byproduct. This has not exactly come about, but the cement company last year, with potash at war-time prices, sold SIOO,OOO worth, and it Is said that the profit was SBO,OOO. The result of this! has been that the cement companies generally are taking notice. Another company near Hagerstown, Md., which from Its location did not have to bother about the dust nuisance, is voluntarily putting in the Cottrell process in order to save potash, which it to amount to four tons a day. Some ce-ment-mill men declare that the present mills in this country, properly equipped, are capable to turning out 100,000 tons of potash ydhrly, which is about one-fourth of the amount imported from Germany in normal times. It is further declared that Jttiere will be an incentive, to establish new mills located near deposits that are rich in potash, and that in the future no cement mill will have a haphazard location did not have to bother about mills may be erected In certain parts of the country for the purpose of making potash the main product and cement the by-product. The belief Is prevalent among those who are interested that, as a by-product in the manufacture of cement, potash can be made at such a price as to make it profitable in normal times at normal prices. The stopping of the dust nuisance in California by the use of the Cottrell process has suggested another field of endeavor. Now chemists are talking of applying this process for the obtaining of potash from the gases of the blast furnaces in the manufacture of pig iron. Charles Catlett of Stauntop, Va., a widely known chemist and metallurgical expert, makes the statement that the byproduct that can be collected from the blast-furnace gases.are sufficient in value to affect profoundly the question of the manufacture of iron In certain sections and from certain materials.

Aids Rural School Teachers.

Uncle Sam is endeavoring to raise the standard in rural schools and to this end has arranged a reading course for teachers. Representatives of the government are also organizing the teachers Into reading circles with the idea of enabling them to broaden the scope pf their work.

ANNE’S FELLOW-BOARDER

By CATHERINE CRANMER.

Anne sat before her dressing table and surveyed the satisfactory, result of her latest attempt at millinery. The tiny rose-colored toque with its wreath, of shaded pink roses emphasized the corresponding tints in her smooth skin an(L carmine lips, and made her dark eyes look darker still. But as she looked the color paled on her rounded cheeks, her pretty mouth quivefed into wistfulness and her big eyes looked plaintively into their counterparts in the little oval mirror. “What’s the use of it all, Anne Murray?’’ she asked her reflection. “Here you are> four and twenty, with a peaches-and-cream complexion, a pretty hat and a decent suit, but who really cares whether you are thus or whether you are four times twenty, with a wrinkled skin and a bonnet and shawl?” Indulging in thoughts like these had brought Anne to a more or less pessimistic viewpoint of life in general. The next morning, as she went to her desk in the offices of a big corporation, she felt little interest or ambition in her work. She had hardly time to. put her purse in its accustomed place in her desk and to open the typewriter shaft before an office boy came briskly up. “The big boss wants you in the stock-room,” said the boy, ‘‘an’ he says to bring your notebook. There’s somethin’ doin’ around here, but so far I can’t quite catch the drift.” Anne hastened away to comply with the unusual demand. She found her employer engaged in a conference with the manager of the stock department, and she was instructed to make notes of the questions asked and the suggestions made by each mail. Later they went to other department managers, and by luncheon timt» they had made the rounds of the various departments, and Anne’s notebook held enough work to keep her steadily busy all the afternoon. To complete the task, she remained a quarter of an hour later than usual, and as she left the building some thoughtless boys who were also late in leaving gave the revolving door a big push Just as she entered it, and its suddenly acquired speed and force almost hurled her out against a man who had preceded the boys and who stood lighting a cigarette while a newsboy stuck an evening paper into hls hand. As the man recognized Anne, he tossed the cigarette aside, raised hls hat and asked whether the thoughtless boys had caused her any injury. "Not at all, thank you, Mr. Mills,’” responded Anne, as she recognized the manager of the credit department, whom she had met for the first time that morning. A few moments later on the street car she found herself standing crowded close to Mr. Mills. “Mr. Granby’s little quiz this morning was a part of his ‘get-acquainted” scheme, I suppose,” began Mr. Mills, but seeing Anne’s puzzled look, he added: “At a meeting of all the department managers the other day Mr. Granby told us that the lack of general fellow-feeling among the workers and the employers was becoming a serious defect in this company’s management, and he purposed to try to bring about a better understanding all around. I supposed you were ‘in’ on the little plan.” “Oh. no,” Anne shrugged as she spoke, “stenographers, especially when they happen to be girls, are expected to be just automatons, without desire or capacity for Initiative thinking or acting any more than any other office fixture. So, after awhile, one feels an utter misfit in any sort of human relationships.”

“Oh, come now,” laughed Mr. Mills, “you’re in the very frame of mind that I was before Mr. Granby gave us that corking good talk the other day, but I got to thinking that perhaps my own mental attitude had more to do with my difficulties than anything else, and so I sat down for one whole evening and Ipoked myself in the face, as it were, and sized myself up, with the result that Pve determined to get right with myself and others Just aa soon as possible.” Mr. Mills ushered Anne into a seat that had become vacated, and seated himself beside her, continuing his part of the conversation. “I’ve decided that indifference breeds indifference, and I'm going to start out and try to find all that’s praiseworthy and interesting in the plain, everyday men and women I meet. As a step in that direction, I’ve given up expensive apartments in a bachelor establishment, and am going back to one modest room in a first-rate boarding house managed by a capable, motherly woman.” “Well,” said Anne, with a long sigh, “you’ve given me just the thought I needed to turn my mind from the pessimism I was falling into.” Mr. Mills reached for the hell. Just as Anne finished speaking, and somehow both of them felt embarrassed, when it developed that they left the car at the same place. "We must be neighbors,” said Mr. Mills, as he escorted Anne from the car step to the curb. “I’ve taken a room at Mrs. Elmore’s. Do you happen to. know her house?” ‘Tve lived there for two years,” said ’Anne. And that is how one man and his wife began their acquaintance. (Conyright. 191#. by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)