Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 223, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 September 1916 — Page 2

The IDYL of TWIN FIRES by WALTER PRICHARD EATON

SYNOPSIS.

I grow tired of my work as a college Instructor and buy a New England farm on sight. I Inspect my farm and go to board at Bert Temple's. Bert helps me to hire a carpenter and a farmer. Hard Oder, the carpenter, estimates the repairs and changes necessary on the house. Mike ■commences plowing. I start to prune the ■orchard tree. Hard Cider builds booK'casta around the twin fireplaces. Mrs. Temple hlree Mrs. PilUg for me as a housekeeper, and announces the coming or a new boarder from New York, a halfsick young woman who needs the country air. I discover that Stella Goodwin will make a delightful companion and believe she ought not to return to the hot and dusty city for a long time. I squeeze her hand slyly.

The comfort of a rainy day—can you Imagine anything pleasanter, after weeks of glaring sunshine, than to enjoy the glow of an open wood fire In a big, hospitable sitting room while a cold gray rain takes the edge off things outside? Especially —ls the girl you’re falling in love with is playing the piano to help make you happy?

CHAPTER Vlll—Continued.

“I guess we won’t d» any more arches today,” I replied, “or you won’t, «t any rate. Ton’ll go home and rest.” She looked at me an Instant with Just the hint of her twinkle coming back. ‘Tm so unused to taking orders,” she said, “that I’ve lost the art of obedience. Move the post a little to the right, please.” I did so, and we worked on in silence. We had built the wide central arch by the time the sun began to drop down into our faces. There were only fire arches more to build. “I shall write tonight and hare the roses hurried along,” said I. We walked back toward the house £nd looked over the lawn, past the sundial, and saw the farm through the trellis, and beyond the farm the trees at the edge of my clearing, and then a distant roof or two, and the far hills. The apple blossoms were fragrant in -the orchard. The persistent song sparrows were singing. The shadow of the dial post stretched far out toward the east

"It is pointing toward the brook,” «ald I. “Shall we go and ask the thrush to sing?" She shook her head. “Not tonight,” she said briefly, and I walked, grieved and puzzling, up the road by ter side. The next day she pleaded a headache, and I went to the farm alone. “It will be yon who will need a rest eoon," she said the second morning, as she came down to breakfast and found me hard at work out on the front porch. m “I’m going to take one—with you. said L “I want to see the country, •too.” She smiled a little, and picked a lilac bud, holding it to her nose. She seemed quite far away now. The first few days of our rapid intimacy had passed, and now she was as much a stranger to me as on the first meeting In the pines. I said nothing about her ■coming to the farm; I don’t know why. 'Somehow, I was piqued. I wished her to make the first move. In some way, ’•it was all due to my asking her to choose the paint for my dining room, and that seemed to me ridiculous. Thera was no sun to wake me in the ■morning, so that I slept till half-past six. Outside the rain was pouring steadily down, and I found Bert rejoicing, for It was badly needed. After breakfast I waylaid Miss Goodwin. “No work on the trellis today," said I, swallowing my pique; “so I’m going to' fix up the south room. I’m going to make twin fires out of some of the nice, fragrant apple wood you haven’t sawed for me, and bang the Hiroshiges, and unpack the books, and have an elegant time —if yoti don’t make me do it alone.” The girl shot a look around Mrs. (Bert’s sitting room, where a small owl stood on the mantel under a glass case and a transparent pink muslin sack filled with burst milkweed pods was draped over a crayon-portrait of Bert as a young man.. I followed her glance and then our eyes met. “Just the same, they are dear*; good ■sals,” she smiled. “Of course,” I answered. “But to sit here on a cold, rainy day! You may read by the fire while I work. Only please come!” “May I read ‘The Foundation of the Nineteenth Century,’ Doctor Upton?" she said. “You may read the dictionary, if you wish,” I replied. She went to get her raincoat. It was cold out of doors, and the rain drove in onr faces as we splashed down the road. The painters had made a fire in the kitchen range, and as we stepped an the warmth greeted os in a curious, friendly way. I brought several logs of dead apple wood into the big room ftnS goon had the twin hearths cheerful with dancing flames. Then I went back to the shed, and brought the two cushions which had been on my win-dow-seats at college, to place tbefa on ths settle. But as I came lntp the ypon, Instead of finding the girl waiting to sit by ths fire, I saw her with.

cosyaioMT MoetEow. d co.

sleeves rolled up washing the west window. Her body was outlined against the light, her hair making an aura about her head. As she turned a little, I caught the saucy grace of her profile. She was so Intent upon her task that she had not heard me enter, and I paused a full moment watching her. Then I dropped the cushions and cried, “Come, here’s your seat! That is no task for a Pb.D.”

“I don’t want a seat,” she laughed. "I’m having a grand time, and don’t care to have my erudition thrown in my face. I love to wash windows.” “But ‘The Foundations of the Nineteenth Century’?’’ said I. “The whole nineteenth century is on these windows,” she replied. “I’ve got to scrub here to get at its foundations.” “But you’ll get tired again,” I laughed, though with real solicitude. “I didn’t want you to come to work—only to be company.” “I don’t know how to be company. Please get me some fresh hot water.” My piano, which had stood in the dining room ever since the furniture had arrived, we unboxed, wheeled in to fill the space between the 6mall east windows, and took the covers off. I looked around. Already the place was assuming a homelike and the long room had contracted into intimacy. The girl dropped her rag into the pail, and stood looking about. “Oh, the nice room!” she cried. “And oh, the dirty piano!” I went out to begin on the books, and when I returned I brought the piano bench, as well. The girl was busy with the east window, and I set the bench

She Was Seated Upon It When I Arrived.

down in silence. She was seated upon it, when I arrived with the third load, and through the house were dancing the sounds of a Bach gavotte. She stopped playing as I entered, and looked up with a little smile of apology. “Please go on!” I cried. She wheeled back and let her hands fall on the keys, rippling by a natural suggestion into the old tune "Amaryllis.” The logs were crackling. The gay old measures flooded the room with sound. My head nodded in time, as I stacked the books on the shelves. Suddenly the music stopped, and with a rustle of skirts the girl was beside me. She began to inspect titles, pulling out books here, substituting others there, carrying some to other cases. I wheeled in load after load. "Lord,” I cried, “of the making of many books, et cetera! I’ll never buy another one, or else I’ll never move again.’’ "YouTl never move again, you mean,” said she. “Look, all the nice poetry by the west fireplace. Don’t the green Globe editions look pretty in the white cases? And Keats right by the chimney. Please, may I -pot the garden books, and old Mr. Thoreau, by the east fire?”

“Give old Mr. Thoreau any seat he wants,” said I, “only Mr. Emerson must sit beside him.” “Where’s Mr. Emerson? Oh, yes. here he is, In a blue suit Here, we’ll plant the rose of beauty on the brow of chaos!” She took the set of Emerson and placed it in the top shelf by the east fireplace, above a tumbled heap of onassorted volumes, standing back to survey It with her gurgling laugh. “What Is so decorative as books?” she cried. “They beat pictures or wall paper. Oh. the nice room, the nice books, nice old Mr. Emerson, nice twin fires!” “And nice librarian,” I added. She darted a look at me, laughed with heightened color, and herself added, with a glance at her wrist watch, "and nice dinner!” I brought back some of my manuscripts after dinner, in case the room should be completed before supper rime. We attacked it again with enthusiasm, hers being no less, apparently, than mine, for it was indeed

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

wonderful to see the place emerge from bareness into the most alluring charm as the books filled the shelves, as my twp Morris chairs were placed before the fires, as my three or four treasured rugs were unrolled on the rather uneven but charmingly old floor which Just fitted the old, rugged hearthstones, and finally as the two bright Hiroshiges were placed in the center of the two white wood panels over the fireplaces, and the other pictures hung over the bookcases. “I think it is wonderful,” said I. “T have my home at last! And how you have helped me!” “Yes, you have your home,” said she. “Oh, it is such a nice one!” She turned away, and w’ent over to the east fire, poking it with her toe. I lit my pipe, sat down at my old. familiar desk, heaved a great sigh of comfort, and opened a manuscript. ‘••“lt’s only four o’clock,” said I. "I can get in that hour I wasted in sleep this morning. Can you find something to read?”

“I ought to,” she smiled. I plunged into the manuscript—a silly novel. I read on, vaguely aware that the west was breaking, and the room growing warm. Presently I heard a window opened and felt the cooler rush of rain-freshened air from the fragrant orchard. Then I heard the painters come downstairs, talking, and tramp out through the kitchen. It was five o’clock. But I still read on, to finish a chapter. The painters had departed. The entire house was still. Suddenly there stole through the room the soft andante theme of a Mozart sonata, and the low sun at almost the same instant dropped Into the clear blue hole In the west and flooded the room. I let the manuscript fall, and sat listening peacefully for a full minute. Then I moved aerosol the floor and stood behind the player. Hdw cheerful the room looked, how booky and old-fashioned! It seemed as If I had always dwelt there. How easy It would be to put out my hands and rest them on her shoulders, and lay my cheek to her hair! The impulse was ridiculously strong to do so, and I tingled to my finger tips with a strange excitement. “Come,” I said, “it is after five, and the sun is out. We will go to hear the thrush.” The girl faced around on the bench, raising her face to mine. “Yes, let us,” she answered. "How lovely the room looks now. Oh, the nice new old room!”

She lingered in the doorway a second, and then we stepped out of the front entrance, where we stood entranced by the freshness of the rainwashed world in the low light of afternoon, and the heavy fragrance of wet lilac buds enveloped us. Then the girl gathered her skirts up and we went down through the orchard, where the ground was strewn with the fallen petals, through the maples where the song sparrow was singing, and ih among the dripping pines. The brook was whispering secret things, and the drip from the trees made a soft tinkle just detectable, on its pools. We waited one minute, two minutes, three minutes in silence, and then the fairy clarion sounded, the “cool bars of melody from the everlasting evening.” It sounded with a thrilling nearness, so lovely that it almost hart, and instinctively I put out my hand and felt for hers. She yielded it, and so we stood, hand in hand, while the thrush sang once, twice, three times, now near, now farther away, and then it seemed from the very edge of my clearing. I still held her hand, as we waited for another burst of melody. But he evidently did not intend to sing again. My fingers closed tighter over hers as I felt her face turn toward mine, and she answered their pressure while her eyes glistened, I thought, with tears. TJien her hand slipped away.

“Don’t speak,” she said, leading the way out of the grove. , » We went into the house again to make sure that the fires had burned down. The room was darker now, filled with twilight shadows. The last of the logs were glowing red on the hearths, and the air was hot and heavy after the fresh outdoors. But how cheerful, how friendly, how like a human thing, with human feelings of warmth and welcome, the room seemed to me! “It has been a wonderful day,” said I, as we turned from the fires to pass out. “I wonder if I shall ever have so much joy agalu in my house?” The girl at my side did not answer. I looked at her, and saw that she was struggling with tears. I did instinctively the only thing my clumsy ignorance could suggest—put my hand upon hers. She withdrew It quickly. “No, no!” she cried under her breath. “Oh, I am such a fool! Fool—middle English fool, foie, fol; Icelandic, fol; old French fol—always the same word!”

She broke into a plaintive little langti, ran through the hall and lifted the stove lid to see if the fire there was out, and hastened to the road, where I had difficulty to keep pace with her as we walked up the slppe to supper. “You need a rest more than you think, I guess,” I tried to say, but she only answered, “I need it less!” and made off at once to her room. That night I didn’t go back to my house to work. I didn’t work at all. I looked out of my window at a young moon for a long while, and then—yes, I confess it, though I was thirty years old, 1 wrote a sonnet!

Why is It that a big, strapping man want* to write poetry when he falls in love? This seems to be one of the early symptoms of the ‘'disease,"

(TO BB CONTZNUXnj r

THIRD ESCAPE OF INTERNED FRENCH AVIATOR RIVALS MOVIE THRILLERS

Prison Airshaft In Switzerland Brings Liberty to Airman GilbertFellow Townsmen, Motor Manufacturer and a Paris Newspaper Back of Exciting Adventure—Takes Advantage of Gastronomical Weakness of Guard.

Paris. —“Never two without a third” Is a French proverb which has proved true la the case of Aviator Gilbert. Forced to descend in Switzerland owing to his motor failing, Gilbert was Interned. His first attempt to escape was successful, but the French government handed him back to the Swiss authorities, because the letter in which Gilbert took back his pledge not to try to escape had not reached •the authorities in sufficient time, although it had been posted early enough. A second attempt was much more short lived, as the aviator was recognized on a train before getting out of the country, and once more made a prisoner, with greatly increased precautions to prevent another attempt. The third attempt, which the cables have already reported to huve been a complete success, involved a story that “outmovies” the movies. At the back of it are Gilbert’s fellow townsmen from the Auvergne province, the. manufacturer of the motor that Gilbert used on his aeroplane and a Paris newspaper with the largest circulation in the world.

Gilbert Closely Guarded. Gilbert was imprisoned in the third story of a large barracks in Zurich and was watched night and day by special guards. One day a Frenchman arrived on the scene, a M. Itobere-Melard, ostensibly a dealer in wool, but really a general commissioned agent who had acted as a Sherlock Holmes various occasions, especially since the war. “It took me three months to arrange affairs,” M. Melard relates, “for I met with several failures. The first thing I had to do was to inspire confidence in someone around Gilbert, who would allow me, without being aware of it, to get into close touch with the man whose escape I wished to aid. Such a man I found in Captain Sturm, who was charged with watching over the prisoner and was inflexible as to his duties.

“I made no secret of being a friend of Gilbert’s, but I explained tlyit, although I was glad to see him again, I had come to Switzerland on business. To convince the captain I talked to him and showed him heavy orders I had given in accordance with orders received from various aviation and other firms in France. I ordered all sorts of things, one day buying several cords of wood. All these orders started, but somehow or other some combination prevented delivery, and in the end few went through.

Escape Cleverly Contrived. “I soon found Captain Sturm’s weak point. It was gastronomical; We lunched together, we had dinner and supper together, aud the fare was always so good that he soon allowed me to see his prisoner almost daily. Before the captain we talked about the weather and such exciting topics, but we wrote each other dozens of little notes which we used to slip under the table as we raised our glasses to the captain’s health. •-*’ “That lasted three whole months, by which time Sturm and I were Inseparable and Gilbert and I had formed our plans. “A certain person was to pass In front of the barracks at 7:30 p. m. If he lit his cigarette twice in front of the railing between the barracks and the police station the attempt was to be made that night, but if he blew his nose ostentatiously it meant the attempt was to be postponed. Gilbert knew that he could escape by a ventilation shaft that passed through the lavatory on his landing. “The guards at his door were changed each night at 2a. m. The plan was to go to the washroom at 1:50 a. m. and hope that the departing guards would fail to notify the newcomers of his absence. On Monday and Tuesday nights the relieving sentinels were informed, but on Wednesday night this duty was overlooked. Gilbert, dressed in uniform, let himself slip down the narrow ventilating shaft onto the ground floor, from which he escaped by a key that I had provided. I should explain that when everything had been arranged I said good-by to Captain Sturmer and left for France Just before the escape was tried. Gilbert climbed the wall around the barracks and found civilian clothes In the automobile waiting for him at the point arranged.”

Is Hidden Away. Gilbert’s friend Arnold Bontemps, the newspaper man who worked his fiist escape, then *ook charge of the proceedings. It was hopeless to think of smuggling Gilbert out of the country at once, however well he might be disguised. The hue and cry would be too strong. "I took him to a safe place where we were sure the police would never think of coming, just because the apartment was one open to any visitor,” said Melard. “This operation took fifteen minutes, and five minutes later the alarm was given. Gilbert was stowed away in a closet “of whfcch he could leave the door ajar, closing it on the least sound. At night only he could take some rest. There he remained six days to let ths storm roll by. French

papers announced his arrival In Paris, declaring that he had been seen by friends, and this lulled suspicion in Switzerland.

"I returned to Zurich with a disguise for him, false beard, spectacles, heavy shoes, etc., and Gilbert took the train, having bought a ticket for Bienne. There we walked some miles toward Geneva, when an automobile met us, which tooted its horn three times. In a second we were irtside and, taking a side road to avoid the high road, reached a little wood near Geneva, where we received the latest news about the direction police activities were taking.

Crossing the Frontier. “We decided to start nekt clay, which was Ascension day, which seemed appropriate for an aviator. The last night was passed in a village near Geneva and after some hours walking next morning we saw the frontier, the railroad and the road from Annemasse to Bellegarde. This was the point we had chosen for crossing the line.

“The actual crossing proved easy. The Swiss gard happened to be some yards away and GilbePt took to his legs and got into France before the guard reached him.” The French guard, however, challenged him, and the only, “papers” Gilbert could show were his Legion of Honor, cross, his military medal and his war cross. When he gave his name, the brave guard accepted these decorations as proof of identity and telephoned his superior officers, who brought au automobile for Gilbert’s use.

A triumphant welcome met him at Lyons, where he was able to borrow an aviator officer’s uniform. A still more enthusiastic welcome awaited him at Paris, where the mitrfcster of war congratulated him and gave him a permission so that he can'take a short rest before resuming his place at the front. Gilbert needs some rest, as, in addition to his irksome life as a prisoner, he had to thin himself down considerably in order to be sure of passing down the ventilation shaft.

MOTHER GETS LOST BABY

Salvatore Migiliorisi and his wife are the happiest parents in New York city. Their little daughter Josephine, three and a half years old, who they believed dead for two years, has turned up alive. The story is one of the strangest in the annals of New York alien life. Two years ugo the baby was taken to a hospital. Some time later the parents received a letter from the hospitul. They could not read this, so they took It to a friend to have it read. The friend told them that it said that the child was dead. When the parents went to the hospital to claim the body of the child they were turned away for some unknown reason. Then the parents moved several times. In the meantime the charities department was continually hunting for them. The department has just located them.

Lightning Shatters a Clock.

Tiffin, O,—A bolt of lightning struck the chimney of ”the H. W. McFerren bouse in Tiffin during a heavy electrical storm. The bolt di,d not disturb either the brick or. the plaster, but followed the chimney to, the interior of the house, where It struck a clock on a mantlepiece- and scattered the wheels and other workings nil oyer the floor. There was no other damage.

Funny Things.

The funniest performance Is an unimportant man’s efforts tt> appear important, although a stingy man’s efforts to appear generous alsd add something to the gayety of tke Globe. K

BREAKS' CHAIN WITH CHEST

Walter Alvin Boyd of Louisiana, Mo., was the strongest man at the Harvard summer school—of—physical education. He exhibited his great chest power by breaking a chain by his chest expansion which, it is claimed, ten men were unable to, break with their hands.’ Boyd is thirtysix years of age, married and has three • children. He weighs 202 pounds, has a normal chest measurement of 42 inches and an expansion of 14 inches. On his farm In Missouri ‘he devotes two nights a week to the instruction of boys in physical development. He attended the summer school in order to pick up the latest ideas in physical culture to impart to the boys.

BULLETS DIDN’T STOP HIM

Lead Fired Into Lewis’ Body Made No Impression, According to Evidence in Criminal Court.

Baltimore, Md. —Bullets make no im< pression upon Nathan Lewis of 1204' McElderry street, according to his evidence in the criminal court, where he was a star witness against William Edwards, charged with assault with intent to murder and carrying a deadly weapon. Lewis and Edwards had an argument. Edwards procured a, revolver and shot at Lewis. One bullet struck Lewis in the arm, but he merely plucked it out and threw it away. The second bullet went through Lewis’ mouth while he was smiling over the failure of the first shot to do him injury, and it did nothing more than loosen one of his teeth. He spat the leaden pellet out and was proceeding to use his fists on Edwards when the pair were separated. Harry B. Wolf pleaded self-defense for his client and Judge Stump gave him the benefit of the doubt and dismissed the case. .

FOUR BROTHERS WED SISTERS

Two Wisconsin Families Are United and It Only Took Six Months to Do It.

Waukegan, Wis. —Four Wisconsin brothers in the last six months married four sisters. The latest of the weddings was a.short time ago at Waukegan, when the last of the boys in the Blum family married the last of the sisters in the Rnusch family, both the Rausch and Blum families being of Campbellport and Hartford, Wis., respectively. The weddings in their order are: Paul Blum, of Marshfield, partner In • Blum Brothers’ box factory, wedded to Marie Rausch. John Blum, Marshfield, wedded to Anna Rausch. Peter Blum, Jr., Marshfield, to Catherine Rausch. Jacob Blum, Hartford, auto demonstrator, to Lily Rausch,

FROGS FORECAST WEATHER

Amphibia in Hotel Fountain Give Warning of Rain and Never Miss a Guess.

Brunswick, Ga.—Brunswick now has a weather forecasting station, although it has no connection with the government’s weather department. The forecasting station is located in the fountain in front of the Oglethorpe hotel and consists of a number of long-wind-ed and sweet-voiced frogs. It is said they never miss the weather and that when they sing one might as well look out for rain. The frogs give nightly concerts when the weather outlook is right and the concerts are greatly enjoyed by the hotel guests as well as the steady stream of passersby.

Oldest Indian Over a Century.

Pendleton, Ore.—Ofce of the if not the oldest man on the Pacific coast died when Ayoushakatsagom, the veteran C9yu.se Indian, passed on tft the happy hunting grounds. He wa* reputed to be one hundred and twenty years old. and his memory dated back to events which happened during th«| War of 1812.