Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 176, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 August 1917 — Page 2

Real Man

By Walter J. Delaney

by W. G. Chapman.) There were eight in the group—frowsy* hard-looking fellows, shuffling In gait, tattered as to attire, unshaven and not even dean. Ont was building a fire, six of his companions were rifling their pockets, producing stolen eggs and onions and slices of bread, cake fragments, in short, the general variety of food likely to be given at the kitchen door to begging tramps. This, in fact, they were, even the man who lay back where a heap of old railroad ties had been piled so as to form a sort of shelter. He half lifted on one arm, his haggard face showing Illness and pain. “The medicine, boys!” he cried out eagerly. Each one of the group hung his head. The sick man gulped. He said huskily: "No money, eh? Well, I know you did your best I guess you had better get me to a hospital.” “There’s Busy Ben to report yet,” announced the cook of the group. “He’s the one that coaxes the coin out of people. Ah, there he is now.” A stalwart feliow with a limping foot came through the woodland path tothe tramp camp, situated exactly on the county line for reasons prudence. - “Any coin, partner?” piped the cook. “Sure,” retorted the new-comer, and rather gruffly, it seemed. “Here’s your medicine, Bartley,” and he handed the invalid a bottle, which the latter seized Joyously. “Oh, you’ve got it, have you?” he cried, “Now, I’ll get well. How did you come across it?” “Bought it, of course.” “Where did you get the money?” “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. The good people baugh! All of them thought I was lying when I told them I had a sick partner. I offered to work for the town druggist a whole day if he’d fill the prescription and he hooted me out into the street. Charity—but I got it.” Busy Ben was strangely mute after that. He seemed pre-occupied and disturbed. One of the men had brought a chicken. This with the other food made a good meal. They

Frowsy, Hard-Looking Fellows.

boiled the eggs In an old kettle, made coffee in the same receptacle and then the group generally settled down to the tramp’s paradise —sleep. Only Busy Ben, thoughtfully smoking his stump of a pipe, sat up near the blazing fire, ever and anon edging closer to the shelter where sick John Bartley lay. Tenderly he spoke: “Taken a dose yet?” “Two of them. Didn’t you notice me eat? Why, I feel like a new man already! There was never such a knocker for chills and fever like that blessed prescription. I’ll be afoot inside of two days. Partner, I’ll hope to do as much for you some day.” Busy Ben only stared stonily. His soul was chock full of sentiment just now, but he strove hard to conceal it. Then the grateful eyes beaming upon him unlocked the door of his mind. He glanced sharply at his snoring compatriots. Then he leaned towards the invalid. “Bartley, I want to tell you something. I stole that money.” The sick man looked perturbed. He was living a hard life, but he had once been a respectable citizen and shame was not yet dead within him. He was silent, but his lips twitched. "I had to do It," continued Ben, as hardly as he could. “Everybody turned me down. I was getting desperate, for I knew that the medicine maybe meant life dr death to you. I was sitting resting behind a hedge when I heard voices. Beyopd it was a womap and a child, a little girl about eight years old. They had just come gut of an old hut. You know the big wind we had last night? Well, it had blown down half of the old ruin. It seemed

the mother and child had ventured into the wreck to see if they Could ■ gather up some of their belongings. | They’ carried a lot of clothes, going to some new place of'Tefuge. The little one, it seemed, had tried to find her savings bank, but the bureau where it was lay under a heap of wreckage. ‘We’ll come again tomorrow and look for it,’ the mother promised. Then they went away. “And then—” “I got the money,” spoke Ben in a low, subdued tone, shrugging his shoulders as if to cast off unpleasant thoughts. “There was seventy-two cents in the little bank. I took fifty cents, the price of the medicine.” “Some day—” began Bartley in a tone of emotion. “Yes," nodded Ben, “some day you and I must make up the cents in dollars, if we’re real men.” Then he walked away. Imagination or reality, the medicine cured John Bartley, but not in two days, nor in six. It was a full week before he could get well about Then he made urgent inquiries of Ben as to the location of the blown-down house and the woman and the girl. It was nearly noon when he located the wrecked hut Near to it under a set of tarpaulins was a lot of new building material. Bending over a bed of flowers was a little girl. “The one that Ben robbed!” muttered Bartley hoarsely. “Heaven bless her forevermore!” and the tears stood in his eyes. Then he approached the child. She looked up with fearless, friendly eyes. She picked a lovely rose and tendered it to him. “ “I’m sort of keeping the flowers all right till we get the new house up,” she said. ‘Tm afraid it will be a long time, though,” she added. “How is that?” inquired Bartley. “Why,, under those covers yonder is a patent bungalow mamma bought. Oh, we were to have such a fine house! It’s all paid for, but the bank mamma had the rest of her money in to pay for the building of the house has failed. So mamma has to put me with Aunt Nellie, who is poor, and mamma is out nursing. But maybe some day we can earn enough to put up the house.” “Boys,” spoke John Bartley to his fellow tramps that night, “among us are some workers, surely. I was once an architect. Will you help me build the house I have told you about?” Millville witnessed a marvel that week. Nine earnest, Industrious tramps with alacrity and vigor followed the directions of Architect Bartley. Little Floribel Moore was on hand most of the time, half comprehending the unique situation. Mrs. Moore was engaged in nursing twenty miles away. She stood spellbound as she viewed the bungalow which unexpected hands had constructed. The tramps had disappeared, but two days later little Floribel ran up to Bartley in the street and ran towards him, pulling her mother after her. “Mamma, this is the man who showed the others what to do and told me such pretty stories.” “You see, we heard of your misfortune,” lamely explained Bartley, “and thought we’d surprise you,” and evaded the point direct, but it was sure to come out some time. Bartley’s fellow migrators went on to pastures new. Bartley himself remained in. Millville. A village contractor had employed him gladly when he learned of his former experience as an architect. "Within a month few would have recognized the well-dressed, businesslike new-tlme “Mr.” Bartley as the old-time fellow companion of uncouth knights of the road.

Mrs. Moore, installed in her pretty new home, was glad to welcome him as an occasional visitor. Little Floribel doated upon him. One evening as mother and child were in the room where Bartley was their guest, the little one chanced to take her savings bank from the mantel to inspect its contents. ; “Oh, mamma, look!” cried Floribel suddenly “who put in all of the bright new pennies?” The “bright new pennies” weregold pieces. At last John Bartley had been able to keep his vow. For each penny taken by Busy Ben he had substituted a gold dollar. He flushed With embarrassment. The searching, eye of the widow scanned him and then, as Floribel was busied over the counting of her treasure, she asked softly: “What does this mean?” For the first time the widow knew all of the truth. Into her beautiful eyes came pity, sympathy and love, for those two, “just plain folks,” had been coming closer and closer to one another during the weeks of their growing friendship, and fate destined that their lonely lives should be united.

Exactly.

A couple of country cousins on a visit to Glasgow halted in front of a brass plate fixed on the front of a house, whereon was Inscribed in bold characters the word "Chiropodist.” “Chirrupodist!” remarked one of them, perplexedly. “What’s that?” “Why,” replied his companion, “a chirrupodist is a chap that teaches canaries ,to whistle.” —London TitBits. •

But Few Have.

Ethel—-Do you believe that men like women with intelligence? Alice—Yes, provided they have enough of it to refrain from impressing a man with his ignorance.

He Didn’t Know the Egg.

“801 l my egg three minutes.” “ ’Scuse me,” said the waiter. "But dat aig is jes* out o’ cold storage, an’ three minutes won’t much more dan jes’ thaw it” .

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

Late Summer Suit of Jersey

There is no end to the ways in which jersey cloth has been developed into suits. All the way from those formal affairs elaborated with bands of many-colored embroideries in silk or wool yarns, to others as plain and unadorned as that shown in the picture, there are jersey suits in every style. The late summer models ard simple; sometimes entirely plain and sometimes banded with jersey cloth in a color contrasting with that used in the suit. The material is soft and lends Itself to graceful lines and it ’ is made in many colors; therefore line and color come in for much consideration in suits made of jersey cloth. Sports styles are reflected in many of them, and the brighter colors are made up in

Becomingness Decides Styles in Coiffures

Every woman may be a law unto herself in the matter of her coiffure. No particular style overshadows other styles or even crowds them in poljnt of popularity. The time when one kind of hajlrdress eclipsed all others seems to have gone by for all time; all fare alike now. The only discernible preferences are in the direction of simple arrangements that look youthful, and even women of middle age affect them. But it is becomingness that decides the question of style in hairdressing. Since we may all be so Independent this is a good time for experimenting. Except for very youthful faces, experiment would better begin by waving the hair, because waved hair is .prettier than straight hair. After this, it may be combed back and off the forehead, or parted or curled about the brow, and the ends may be coiled high on the head, or at the nape of the neck, or anywhere between. In nearly all arrangements the ears are covered and the hair brought forward in front of them, where it rests on the cheek. For youthful faces the hair is usually brought about the forehead, leaving it uncovered, and this arrange-

Petticoats to Be Narrower.

The change in fashion lines will influence a modification of various garments not directly concerned with the outer apparel. ' ■■ For example, petticoats In their latest ate cut not more than tw’O yards through the hem, and they are so contriveg that there is no excess fulness at the waist or the feet , Ornamentation there must be cause few women care for an absolutely plain underskirt, but the trimming is arranged in flat plaits or in scalloped bands which serve effects without giving any bouffant suggestion.

the simplest models'. A suit in rosecolor, sulphur, bright green, turquoise, or any other of the colors classed as “sweater” ghades could hardly be better finished than with white silk collar and cuffs and white pearl buttons. Worn with a white silk blouse and white canvas shoes these bright suits strike a new note in summer apparel—they are gay enough, and not too gay, for almost any wear. . Beige, tan, gray and white jersey are chosen for more formal meets. Those in white, ornamented in white soutache, and those in light gray with braid or embroidery in self color, reach the pinnacle of elegance. But all these colors are chosen for colored- embroideries and for rich and sedate ornamentation in black.

ment will subtract years from older faces that can stand it. But a good many of themwill sacrifice something of good looks by leaving the . brow wholly uncovered. For them, waved hair, parted and partially covering the foreifead, and colled high on the head, usually gives the best results. In the high coiffure the ears need not be covered. * • A lovely coiffure which is not far from the classic Greek, is shown in the picture. Nothing was ever any better. Very short, full curls are pinned In the coil at the back,' and a few curled locks cling to the forehead held in place by a ribbon band or tiny wire pins, or other means known to the artist in coiffures. A very simple style is portrayed In the other picture with waved hair parted and colled at the nape of the neck. A few short locks are curled and pinned back from the forehead and the ears are entirely covered where the hair is brought forward onto the cheeks at each side.

No Long Skirts for Street Wear.

The small waists have never returKSd once they were thoroughly ousted by the modern woman and there is small chance for them in the future so most women think. The long skirt seems inevitable, that is, longer than It is now. But the dressmakers and fashion makers announce it with the full understanding that these dresses are only rer ceremonious occasions and not for service, like street w'ear and shopping and walking. Everybody hopes they will never return to drag the streets and when everybody joins pretty firmly against a style It has a hard time getting a foothold.

STORIES from the BIG CITIES

Saved by Presence of Mind and a Clothesline NEW YORK.—With flames leaping from a tenement house window in whichl lie was hanging 60 feet above a courtyard, Samuel Friedman made his way, to safety by pulling himself hand over hand along a clothesline to another!

tenement. Friedman, who is thirty’’one years old, and a shoe salesman, was trapped in his room at the top of a five-story tenement house at 1787 Madison avenue. More than one hundred tenants in the place were awakened by the clanging of street car gongs when conductors and ’motormen discovered the fire. Most of the occupants managed to leave their rooms by way of the rear fire escape. Friedman prepared to leave, but

thought that his sister Lillian had been trapped in her bedroom. He ran back Into the smoke-filled flat and continued his search until he was cut off from! the fire escape. His sister already had reached the street. He was hanging in the window 60 feet above the court when Louis Markowitz in an opposite tenement saw his plight and threw a long clothesline to him. With the rope doubled, the two men made it fast between the bulldingsj Friedman let himself out on the ledge, with the flames licking the window casing above him. He dangled full length for a moment and then made his way slowly, hand over hand, to the other building, while hundreds below cheered. Mary Jaffe, twenty-two years old, her sister Beatrice, twenty, and Bernard, her brother, eighteen, were caught in their flat on the fourth floor and| were rescued by firemen with the aid of ladders. The ladders were short of the window and the two young women were forced to drop Into the arms of the firemen before being carried to the court. Ten companies answered the fire alarm and soon extinguished the blaze.

Dog Saved Its Mistress From Miserable Death OTTAWA, ONT. —After watching for two days the spot In Duck lake where her husband was drowned, Mrs. Patrick Bruyere of River Desert, Quebec, was saved from starvation by the sagacity of her dog, which swam from the

he called to his wife to let go of the line. As he did so Bruyere stepped Inta a hole and sank. Mrs. Bruyere was unable to help him. On the lonely island her calls for help were unanswered for two days. Then the Bruyere’s dog swam from the mainland. The woman found pencil! and paper in her husband’s coat, which he had taken off before he went after the canoe, and wrote an appeal for help which she tied to the dog’s collar and told the animal to return to the mainland. The dog carried the message to a neighbor, who organized a searching party and rescued Mrs; Bruyere, who was In a serious condition from exposure and lack of food. The body of her husband was recovered.

New York Fire Chief Covers Himself With Glory MONROE, LA.—Within 24 hours after he arrived on the scene, former Deputy Chief William Guerin of the New York fire department extinguished the largest gas-well fire In the history of the world. It took Chief;

Guerin five minutes to put out the flames which' had baffled qyperts of three states summoned to assist In controlling the tremendous blaze. The well is near this city, and Is owned by the Ouachita Natural Gas and Oil company. The flow was 44,300,000 cubic feet a day under a head pressure of 1,500 pounds a square Inch, Chief Guerin tells how he did It. “The fire had been burning since 10:15 o’clock on the evening of June 16,” said Chief Guerin. “It was ex-

tinguished at 10:15 o’clock on the morning of June 23, after It had been burn-* mg foi-five and a half days. In that time 242,000,000 cubic feet of gas had! been burned, the loss being conservatively estimated at $4,500,000. “After looking over the situation I decided that the problem was exactly] thesamertsone that! had faced while in tSe New York Are department. The only difference was one of degree. Two hose lines working under high pressure were led up to the well as close as possible and the water turned onAfter cooling the ground and what remained of the pipe the two lines of hose, opposed to each other, were gradually raised. Meeting as they did in the. column Of gas, as soon as the stream reached the base of the flame the water was turned Into steam which formed a curtain shutting off the gas from the blaze above in such a way that the fire was extinguished almost magically,"

“Bad Man” Will Pay for His Fun With Sheriff CUMBERLAND, MD. —George E. Bond, chief of police of Horton-Whitmer, W.Ya., was held up at the point of a Winchester rifle by Willis Long in the county road near the home of the officer, and was compelled to dance at

stepped out into the road and began hopping around. To get Long careless and off his guard he began singing, “Possum Up a Gum Stump, Cooney in a Hollow.” This seemed to amuse Long, and watching his chance, Chief Bond made a quick spring and struck Long a hard blow od the neck, just below the ear, with his fist. This sent him sprawlihg, and Bond then kicked him in the face, making him unconscious. . ’ He ripped Long’s shirt into strips and bound him hand and foot. A wagon came along and with the assistance of the driver Long was roughly tossed in and hauled- to jail. Long is a large, raw-boned, broad-shouldered man and weighs over 200 pounds. He is addicted to reading wild west and cowboy stories, and has at his home a full cowboy suit, hat, boots and spurs, a S6O cowboy saddle, bridle and lasso, a 30-callber, high-power rifle and two large blue-steel revolvers. He creates the, impression that he is an all-around “bad maD Newspaper men who Interviewed Long in his temporary home- In the rnuntv tail came away with the Idea that he was somewhat sorry for having SS2 the fool with a man who "knew the game."

rock in a lonely part of the lake where the woman was marooned with an ap- ’ peal for help. With her husband, Mrs. Bruyere went on a fishing trip three days ago? ' They landed on a rock island some distance from shore. A small squall set the canoe adrift and Bruyere, who could not swim, tied a line about his body and waded into the lake after the canoe. Getting to the end of the line and within a few feet of the drifting boat.

Long’s bidding. Long, who is looked upon as a “bad man,” had been arrested . several times and fined. He wanted to get even, and was. waiting behind a tree for the chief, knowing he would happen along and likely would be unarmed, as he had gone out into a field behind his cow barn to set out beet plants. - Long drew his Winchester and ordered the chief to throw up his hands. I Bond tried to joke with Long, but finding that he was in earnest.