Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 February 1917 — Page 2

The Sand Pile

By KATHERINE HOWE

(Copyright, 1917, by W. G. Chapman.) When Jacob Ward failed, and short.* ly afterward passed on to a more pea.ceNul worldi not evqn being troubled with the final settlement of affairs, people wondered what was going to become of the widow and daughter. There were quite a good many to wonder, for the Wards had a town house and’S country home and consequently were pretty well provided with acquaintances. When two women who have been kept in fine clothes, automobiles, servants and other luxuries find themselves suddenly denied of these things, nine people out of ten generally ask: “What is to become of them?” They seldom detach the people from the things; but seem to regard the human entity as helpless, or a cipher without its belongings, when In fact Lt . sometimes happens the soul needs to be detached from “things” to become something more than a cipher. “Well,” said Mrs. Ward to her daughter one morning, after the settlement of affairs had made it plain that they had less than a thousand dollars in the world, “here’s a letter from Cousin Newell at last. He has asked us to come there.” “Come there?” echoed Brenda doubtfully. She had large gray eyes that grew very dark when she looked at you - intently?- and au adorable mouth that was now slightly parted in expectation of further enlightenment. “Yes. Don’t you understand —come and live with them,” said her mother. “Not for me,” answered Brenda with decision. Mrs. Ward looked up with intense surprise. She had felt greatly relieved at the offer, had thought it a solution of their problem, and had not dreamed her daughter would object. “Brenda!” she cried, “you don’t seem to comprehend that we're just about

“Live in It!" Shrieked Mrs. Ward in Genuine Horror.

penniless. Why the left won’t much more than provide y<Ju with winter clothes.” < 2 “f m not -going tohave any winter clothes,” calmly responded Brenda. “I have plenty." . “My child! Go through the season with those old-fashioned thiiigs!” “There isn’t likely to be any ‘season’ with no money to entertain, or keep our end up,” said Brenda. “Oh, but you mustn't drop out of society now —now at your age when—” “When I ought to be married,” finished Brenda grimly. “Well, you know there’s Blake Farrar —” “He has never been anything but a friend,” broke in the girl. But the mounting flush which she turned away to hide, would have told a less observant eye than her mother’s that something more than friendship had crept into her heart. “No," reiterated her_mother. “you mustn’t drop out. You ihuM be a|>ie to meet him, and—others.” “If he wants to find me he will. Besides I’m not going into Newell Grant’s house to be dependent on them. How would yqu stand it with Mrs. Newell, and I with the girls? As the poor relations? Mother we couldn’t put up with it.” “But there’s nothing else to do,” wailed Mrs. Ward. “Yes, there is. I’m going to see if I can’t earn our living.” “Darling, don’t bank on that. You don’t suppose you could teach?” “No, I don’t know anything well enough to ev'eu teach a dog to do tricks. As for being a stenographer, I wouldn't be one if I could. The woods are full of them, likewise the >Olll6B, mostly starving to death. I’ve got to think up what I can do. Heavens! Was there ever a more useless creature on the face of the earth than a society ; girlf’ “You’ll come to my way of thinking yet, dear,” - “Darting don’t bank on that," and Brenda kissed the perplexed’face and went out to think It over. I

| A few days after this Brenda had to 1 go out to Farborough to attend to some [business regarding the country place i which had passed into other hands. On her return her mother began to tell her of the evening dress she had been planning for her which really could' be managed under a hundred, and other interesting details of needed wardrobe, when Brenda broke in with: “Mother! you know that little house of ours up by Taylor’s?” “Yes, it's a wonder the creditors didn’t grab that,” exclaimed the elder woman bitterly. “But I suppose it 1 wasn’t worth the trouble. I wonder if we could rent it for a few dollars a month.” “No. but. I think, we could live in it.” “Live in it!” shrieked Mrs. Ward in genuine horror. “That' little old shack ! That laborer’s shanty! Are you crazy?” “Now listen, dearie,” Brenda. “I’ve been- looking it over, and less than a hundred dollars will make It real cozy. I’ve been to workmen and got the figures.” “What about that horrid sand pile we’d ha ve to took at aitvfay?*’ “Well. I’d rather look at a sand pile than the faces of relatives who are giving me my board and keep. Besides we own the sand, and I may do something with it.” “While We are residing in that palatial abode, how do you propose to provide ‘board and keep’?” asked Mrs. Ward with stinging sarcasm. “Oh, I’m going to open a little shop and sell papers, magazines, candies and all sorts of things to the school children. It’s so near the schoolhouse, you know.” When Mrs. Ward sufficiently recovered from a state of speechless stupefaction to be heard, she said: “You don't mean you’d have a shop ih the house?” “Of course,” responded Brenda cheerfully. "We would live back of it, and

over it.” It was no easy matter to reconcile the elder lady to the plan, but when Brenda was determined to try it alone, her mother consented, and in less than six weeks, the Wards were in their new home, and the shop opened. Brenda had discovered herself. She was executive and efficient. The little house was even attractive, and the business, though on a small scale, began to prosper. But there were days when Brenda •wondered why Blake Farrar never had found his way to the little house opposite the sand pile. Perhaps he was like the others, thinking of those in his own “set,” or money and position. If he were like that, she told Herself, she was glad she knew, though the knowledge was bitter in the gaining. One day from her shop window, behind the lollypops and papers* she noticed two men standing over by the sand plle ldbkrng atlt. and bccasidnany glancing toward the house. Finally one entered the shop and made known his errand. He wanted to know if she owned the sand pile and if so could he buy the sand, Brenda’s short business experience had sharpened her wits, and before committing herself she endeavored to find out what it was wanted for. Building material, the man said, and wanted to know her price. Brenda said she would have to think it over, whereupon he said he would send the boss to negotiate. The next day a car drove up and a ' young man stepped briskly into the i shop. “Brenda Ward !” he exclaimed. “Why no one seemed to know where you were!” “It wouldn’t have been’so very hard to find out,” she said quietly. “But I've been up in the northwest till about a month -ago and terribly busy ever since organizing. this.... company. We’re going to put up a plant near by—that is if we-can-buy that safid.” ~——

Brenda thought he could, though the price ho offered seemed out of all proportion to the value, but he insisted it was only reasonable. It seemed to require a good many visits to conclude the business, and then the visits went on. One day Farrar asked her to go with him in the car to look at a piece of ground he intended buying. “Oh, it is beautiful I” she exclaimed. “I want to build a home there,” he said, “but never unless it is for you.” _ The house is going up now.

Arabia's Great Need Is Water.

Arabia is probably one of the oldest of the oriental countries and at different times has .played important roles in the making of the world’s history, and the probability is that in the revival of the Orient it will yet figure prominently once more. The northwest part of Arabia is famous for its many-hued mountains, rocks and crags. Into and out of which has been hewn many a fine tomb, temple, dwelling and theater by the Nabathean, Roman, Greek pr Egyptian, all of whom have left their mark behind them. The great need of the Arabian peninsula Is water, for without that all-important factor of everyday life little can be accomplished, and the entire absence of running water in any shape or form accounts largely for the lack of any forward movement or attempt at industrial or manufacturing achievements,

Pursued.

Girl’s Father (sharply)—What are you driving at? Nervy Suitor —I don’t see why you continue to misunderstand my meaning; I have tried to make it plain enough, I want to marry your daugh- - ter, that> all there is to it Do you follow me? 5 . But there was no need of this question, for as the young man turned to leave he had tangible evidence that; his prospective father-in-law was following him Evening Transcript .

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER. IND.

french Village in War time

LIFE in a French village in war time is described in an entertaining way by M. E. Clarke in Country Life. Even in peace-time the life of the village moves slowly, he says, but since the tocsin sounded war’s alarm it merely creeps along. Outwardly nothing is changed very much; the small white houses with their bright red roofs catch the smile and frown of every passing cloud, the poplars sing and murmur as they always have, the little gray church shows an open door and up the broken pavement of its aisle stray lightsome sunbeams, fallen leaves and dogs of more or less sober reputation, as well as women with heavy, anxious hearts who go to pray. The cure, a kindly man with more human understanding than dogmatic principle, welcomes those who come and refrains from chiding those who stay away. Old women in blue handkerchief caps lead their cows to graze along the green roadsides, and younger women go down to the stream to wash clothes. In the fields work elderly men, women, soldiers home on leave and a few children. The long strips of cultivated ground which make the hillsides look like a patchwork quilt pass through the usual yearly processes of tilling, sowing, reaping and gathering in the fruits of labor. Poppies, cornflowers, ragged robin, blue birds’ eyes, the cuckoo flower and a hundred others come in turn and throw their beauties to the right and to the left with that prodigal generosity which is nature’s splendid way. The birds are as generous with their song as the flowers with their beauty, and among this pageant of joy and loveliness walks the slow-moving, thrifty French peasantry. ______■ •'

All the Younger Men Gone. The war has drawn from the village nil its younger men, and already 30 of them have paid the supreme sacrifice as against ten in the war of 1870. Others have come home lame and , maimed, others still are fighting. In one of the little white cottages with , a garden renowned for its strawberries and asparagus you will find a wellbuilt young woman with straight dark brows and a mouth which tells of both temper and tenderness. She is busy patching an old pair of blue overalls such as French workmen wear. Opposite her sits an elderly man with fine sensitive eyes and a strong beard. He is reading the Petit Parisiep, the favorite village paper:' “Another attack on Mort Homme.” The young woman’s heart is sick within her at the words. She is not married, has no son of her own, but she has been a mother to her flve brothers since she was fourteen. They were all mobilized when France went to warr One has been killed, one has lost two of his limbs, two are in services more or less safe, and the youngest, the Benjamin, her baby, is at Mort Homme. She is not a religious' woman, but that no stone may remain unturned to secure her boy’s safety, she now goes to mass regularly and prays before the blue-robed Virgin whenever she has time. Tfie boy’s face is always before her eyes, handsome, gay, the very pride of her life. She never speaks of him, but her father knows what is passing In her mind, and their common ‘silence is more painful than any words. At the end of the village v street stands a little farm; a tumbledown , white house set in a yard where cows and pigs and poultry ha ve it al 1 their J, own way and no one ever; “sweeps . up." In d field near, a very old horse is working under the guidance of a thin old man whose admonitions to his patient, four-footed companion are more picturesque than effective. But the old horse goes gently on In his own way, as if he realized that a man

THE OLD VILLAGE CHURCH

must bully someone when he himself is subject to a wife. All the week the farmer talked to his horse and tried to turn a deaf ear to his wife; on Sundays he acted as the cure’s right hand man in church and found consolatioh for many things in the importance of his office. But since the war, a common anxiety has drawn the farmer and his wife closer together. Their only son is in the trenches and his letters are his parents’ daily solance. Every night the farmer reads the last one aloud tohis wife,.who, on. a chair overrun by her ample proportions, listens with tearful eyes, while near her hangs the little farm servant, a girl of fourteen, soft-eyed and slender, with old-fashioned turns of speech gathered from her elders, and seven brothers called to the colors. Memories of the Aged. Every household, has its load of sorrow and anxiety, lightened or dulled by the daily routine of hard work which life demands from those who have not been called on to fight. The children are being clothed and fed and educated as in normal times; the old men and women have grown retrospective and talk often of I’annee terrible, 46 years ago, when they had the Germans in the village. Ten of them were billeted with the old woodman’s wife. She made bread for them and they said it was the best they had ever eaten. The memory of it makes the old woman chuckle, but her daughter-in-law, whose home is in the invaded districts, grinds her teeth and declares that nd on earth would persuade her to make bread for the Germans.

The hero of the village is the last man home on leave, and the hand of the White House president more, ardently asked for on his accession toi office than is that of the “permissionalre” when he returns to his native village. His stained tunic, his medals, the trench trophies he brings, and his personal opinion as to when the war is going to end, are all of thrilling interest to the village people, and his , way down, the village street is a slow, triumphant parade. His family wear his reflected glory with more obvious pride thah he himself wears the original thing, for he is a modest man. They are all people of humble station in this particular village, with a maire chosen from their midSt, a schoolmaster of strong republican sentiments, and a cure who is satisfied to do that which his hand findeth to do and leave the rest with higher powers. There is no hospital for wounded, no relief work of any kind, and an extraordinary aloofness from the restlessness of war marks the entire neighborhood. Yet war means to each one of these village- people a personal sacrifice. Beyond that it doqs not mean very much. The enemy, the allies, the refugees, are the things they read about in the daily paper when they read at all. Life to them is always laborious, for they work to save, not to spend, and the “stocking” is only emptied in the national cause when the call is for a loan. To “keep things going” is a French characteristic of great value, especially among the “people,” and their practical common sense keeps them from worrying about the far horizons. Their resourcefulness under difficult conditions is beyond all praise. Nothing is wasted, and substitutes for almost everything seem to be forthcoming. Oxen and mules are used on the land where, horses are not to be had, home-made tools, home-made clothes, home-mad^and home-made medicines help to save a penny here, a penny there. Sometimes the work may suffer from their primitive way of dealing with it, and if wider, more upeffhrts wejMt made would probably be more satisfactory economically.

Every Church Should Be Made School For Prospective Husbands and Wives

Each city church should be a social center. .It should be the place to which any lonely person, young or old, would naturally turn. No church should be contented with providing a center for its own immediate'flock. It should'be the inspiration of all community life. Ihe churches should unite not merely for religious revivals but for social service. I wpuld like to see groups of churches getting together in plays and pageants, athletic tournaments or any clean, wholesome recreation. They should be in the forefront in the fight for decent housing, the extension of playgrounds and municipal recreation centers. 1 hey should blaze the way first by- individual experiments, and wherever the experiments are proved successful, they should induce their adoption by the city as a whole. , ' . But the church should do one thing more. It should be a schoo for prospective hi&bands and wives. It should teach definite!} and practically the sacred responsibilities of marriage. It should prepare young women in the essentials of domestic science. It should educate young men in the sacredness of a pur»Jmarriage relation. In every church there exist matrons of sound common sense and long experience, who could give young women advice of inestimable value upon conduct in-early married life. There are, plenty of men in the* church who can cultivate in youth the respect for women so essential to domestic happiness, and correct that assumption of- superiority by the male sex which sometimes requires jnore than patience from a w’ife. . There are far too many young people who undertake matrimony thoughtless!}, and cha c when the idle dreams are dispelled by the seriousness of the problems of domestic economy and parenthood. A little foreknowledge and prevision would go far to prevent many a wreck -in married life, and the church might veil address itself to supply these life preservers.

State Regulations With No Approach to Uniformity Burden the Railroads

Sectional selfishness and shortsightedness have Jed to the passage of state laws giving preference to railroad traffic within circumscribed areas at the expense and to the prejudice of neighboring states served by the railroads subjected to these enactments. Fifteen gtates, by prescribing a minimum daily movement for freight cars or by imposing heavy penalties for delays, attempt to favor their own traffic. Some of these have fixed the minimum moving distance for a freight car at, <SO miles a day, the average for the whole country being 26 miles. In one state the penalty for delay is $lO an hour. r l wenty states , regulate hours of: railway ggryice;. the, variationg.: ten sixteen hours a day. Twenty-eight states specify headlight requirements without an approach to uniformity, and fourteen states have dissimilar safety-appliance acts. Compliance with these requirements places a burden upon the railroads, which is not borne alone by traffic from these discriminating states, but is imposed upon the whole volume of traffic entering these states. State laws, moreover, are not merely suggestive. I hey are positively mandatory, and divest the carrier absolutely of discretion to develop new markets or to deal with‘trade equities. As a result the creative, aggressive individuality and experience of the railroads is throttled and subordinated to the caprice, arbitrary rule and inexperience of political regulators whose performance is mechanical, superficial and selfish.

Future of United States As Industrial Nation Rests on Conservation of Coal

- TheUniLedESLates leads TfieTworld in industrial activities, and our natural resources form the basis of this success, so it is natural that it we wish to maintain this enviable position in the industrial wofld it is essential that we conserve our natural resources. We are an industrial, not an agricultural nation. It is because wc have advanced from the farm to the workshop that we have grown great and rich. The true measure of ah industrial nation is its consumption of coal. The first result of partial mineral exhaustion will be increased prices. This, of course, will restrain industry. It will also restrain our ability tc defend ourselves in war, for everyone knows that the supremacy of a nation in war today depends on its strength and capacity in oil, coal,'iron and other minerals. Plenty of soldiers, and even plenty of money are not sufficient to resist attack. In the matter of coal, competitive struggle of operators to maintain a place and to keep out of bankruptcy obliged them to mine only the easy places in the seam, leaving the rest of the ground perhaps never to be utilized. Federal experts in the forest service have pointed out that in the lumber industry practically the same conditions exist as in coal.

United States Must Look Chiefly to South America for Trade After War

While the nations of Europe are prosecuting the greatest war of history with an efficiency and determination almost beyond human conception, they are at the same time preparing for the even greater industrial war which they know will come at the conclusion of peace. They propose to recoup their losses by regaining the trade that has been lost, but to extend it into new and hitherto unexploited fields. They will; devote the same thoroughness to their new task as they have to prosecuting the war. Americans need not look to Europe as an outlet for their products. South America will be practically the only field that id left open to us, and it behbbyes Mto prepare oumdveaft>r now.- Respite the handicaps of lack of a credit system and transportation, the United States before the war did $200,000,000 more business .with Latin America than its next nearest competitor.

By ROBERT FULTON CUTTING

By J. A. ADAMS of Chicago

By W. L. SAUNDERS

By JOHN BARRETT

Director of Pan-American Union

of New York