Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 233, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 October 1917 — Page 3

Where the Ways Parted

By Mary Parrish

(Copyright, by W. G. Chapman.) “Oh, these sleek, high-salaried clergymen of fashionable parishes in big cities!” exclaimed Ann Taylor. “Well, It’s about the softest job I know of!” The man sitting at her side on the beach eyed her with a mixture of amusement and opposition. He was about thirty, rather good-looking, and s>f the student type. “Well, I don’t know,” he answered. “I know one who is busy every minute when he Isn’t taking a vacation.” “Oh, lots of people are busy without doing anything big from the time they are born till they die.” “Just what do you mean by doing something ‘big?’ ” queried Speed. “You know there might be a good many different interpretations of that word.” “Yes,” she answered with a grimly sarcastic smile. “And my interpretation might differ considerably from that of the fashionable clergyman. How can anyone do big things who doesn’t take a big view of life? And how can one take a big view if he doesn’t get out among humanity, and know it from the slum to the mansion? The fashionable clergyman knows humanity of the mansion—that is, he knows it on nice terms of social etiquette. Does he know any other phase of the great human mass?” This time the man looked at her with more questioning than opposition. “There may be some truth In that,” he admitted.

“Some of these men are very much in earnest. They write sermons that show thought, scholarship and a high desire to help humanity. Doubtless they do some good. But when they get that far, I’m always wishing some heavy Jolt would strike them and drive them out of the soft, luxurious round of writing beautiful sermons in beau-

She Was Filled With Amazement and Dismay.

tiful studies, to read to beautiful ladles In beautiful gowns. I Insist, it’s a soft job.” “Well, according to that version—it is,” laughed the man. Mary Follin had come up In time to hear the last of the conversation. She was very much up-to-date, and very handsomely gowned. Ann Taylor glanced at the watch on her wrist, and exclaiming that she had forgotten an engagement, nodded to Miss Follin, and apologizing to both, started quickly toward the hotel. Royal Speed smiled a real welcome to the girl, and made way fdr her to sit down. “What was the 'soft job’ she was talking about?” she laughed. "Mine,” was the laconic answer. “What 1” she exclaimed in horrified amazement. “Did she dare to say that to you’.'” “I don’t think she knows I’m a clergyman. But I don’t kr.ow as it would make any difference if she did.” Rev. Royal Speed, rector of St. Anthony’s, spoke with quiet amusement, and "sifted some sand through his fingers. But Indignant nrotest played upon the features of Miss Follin. “I wouldn’t be surprised at anything she might say* she rejoined. “She’s rather a dreadful person when she gets started on those frightful, liberal Ideas of hers. I didn’t mention you were a minister when I introduced you, because I feared the first thing she would do would be to start an argument with you. She loves an argument, and I knew you came here for a - rest.” “Yes, I did. A rest —and to be with vou.” The tenderness of the last words was unmistakable. The girl gave him an answering pmile. The understanding between them seemed complete. They had been engaged to each other for several months, but the time of the wedding w<fs not yet set, and was tac-

Ttly understood to be some months yet to come. Mary Fpllin was the only daughter of a millionaire member of Speed’s fashionable congregation, and those in the secret considered him a very lucky man. The two sat for some time talking, and then strolled off together. Alone in his room at the hotel, Speed threw himself in an easy chair and picked up a book. But something seemed to come between him and the pages. He could hear the girl say: “How can anyone do anything big who doesn’t take a big view of life fl Was he taking the big view? He fell to thinking, and asking himself If he were. In his walks alone on the beach, he found himself looking for a glimpse of Ann Taylor. He would have liked to talk with her again; but he did not see her. Once he laughingly asked Mary Follln what had become of his “adversary.” “Oh, I told her who you were,” answered Mary. Sly humor twinkled in the corners of Rev. Mr. Speed’s eyes. “Did she fall down in her tracks?” he asked. “Not she. Her shriek of laughter might have been heard up to your hotel. She regarded it as a joke, and said she hoped it had done you some good. I couldn’t help telling her what I thought of such talk, and I rallied to your defense in a way she won’t forget very soon. I let her know, too, that we were engaged.” “I’m rather sorry you told her,” mused Speed. “Sorry I told her?” repeated Mary, freezingly indignant. “Don’t you want her to know it?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that, of course. I meant sorry you told her I was a clergyman. “And why, ptay?” asked Mary blankly. “Oh, I might have heard something more to my advantage,” he laughed. “Where is she stopping?” "She went home yesterday.” The acidity of this answer warned the young minister that it was time to change the subject. Ann Taylor was henceforth taboo between him and his fiancee. One stormy evening, as he sat writing his “beautiful sermon” In his “beautiful study,” his me nservant came in with the message that a woman insisted on seeing him. He went down to the reception room to find a wretched, bedraggled creature, w’ho implored him to come quickly with her to a dying woman. He hurriedly made himself ready to go with the woman. In a poor part of the city up flights of dark stairs in a tenement, she led him to the dying woman. The physician he found there told him the man who had beaten her had taken by the police, but there was no use of calling an ambulance, as she would probably die on the way, and he left her with the minister, while the other woman waited without. Speed, with much tenderness and feeling, tried to comfort the dying woman as best he could, but the broken bits of her story she tried to tell him haunted him after his return home. The squalid'misery, the warped, stunted lives he found in this hltherto-undiscoyered region to him opened up a new channel of thought—perhaps it might lead to the “big” thing for him to do. One day after his morning sermon, he spied Ann Taylor in a near-by pew. Later she came up and spoke to him. “It was a very good sermon,” she said. “Very good—as far as It went.” “So it didn’t go far enough to please you,” he smiled. “Well, while there is life there is hope—hope of getting farther on the way.”

Something in his tone caught Ann’s attention. “Yes, if you want to go,” she said. That night visit to the slums had undoubtedly started Speed on the way to a greater enlightenment. He sought for experience among all classes. Sometimes he found among those who outwardly kept up some show of prosperity, the artists and writers who tried to make the creative power of their brains bring them bread and a roof, a kind of fine courage and endurance not even guessed by the prosperous. Often he tried to find a market for their work by getting the rich or those with a “pull” interested. These things began to encroach on his duties at St. Anthony’s. The people who poured money into the church coffers, and paid his salary, complained that he neglected his clerical calls on the families of the parish. Rev. Royal Speed had come to the parting of the ways. He came to a decision. He felt that the woman who was to be his wife must be the first one to know; and he told her he meant to give up St. Anthony’s, to go down and work among the poorer classes. He expected her to rejoice with him at his wider field of work. She could help so much with the wealth at her command.

But Instead she was filled with amazement and dismay. She expostulated, then pleaded with him to give up such a “mad whim.” Then Royal Speed saw he must choose between the woman he loved and the “big” things of a larger life. He hoped he might bring her to see it as he did. But it was no use. He 1 made his choice. On one of his missions he met Ann Taylor. She grasped his hand warmly,* and said, with shining eyes: “It is splendid—what you are doing!” “It is splendid—what I am learning !” he answered. “And I might never have known —but for you.” “Then,” she *aid. “I am glad to have lived—and spoken—if I could think that.” I One day he said: “Won’t you go on helping me—always?" / Ann put her hand in his with a confidence that meant a real “yes.”

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

WINNERS OF AMERICAN LEAGUE 1917 PENNANT

I—Williams; 2 —E. Collins; 3 —Risberg; 4 —Faber; s—Gandll; 6 —Hasbrook; 7 Jourdan; 8 Jackson; 9—-Byrne, 10—Lelboid; 11—Lynn; 12—Cicotte; 13—Weaver; 14—Felsch; 15—Schalk ; 16—Russell; 17—Manager Clarence Rowland; 18 —Danforth; 19—McMullen; 20—Murphy; 21 —Benz; 22—Scott; 28 —J. Collins; 24 Wolfgang; 25 Jenkins.

FREAKIEST PLAY OF SEASON

With Three on Bases In St Louis Game Rousch, Caught Off First, Lands Safely on Second. Ope of the freak plays of the, season happened in a game of the recent Cardinals-Reds series in St. Louis. In one inning the Reds had three men on bases and Rousch, on first was caught off that bag. Instead of trying to get back to first, Rousch ran for second, and Paulette ran after him with the ball. As Rousch came in to second, Kopf, who held that base, lit out for third, so Paulette took after him. Kopf landed on third, where Fred Tony was anchored and refusing to budge. Paulette tagged Kopf and he was out, while Rousch waS safe on second. How did they score the play? Rousch advanced to second on Kopf s out.

BATTERS CAUSE MUCH DELAY

Ona Reason Given for Unnecessary Time Consumed In Ball Games— No Good Reason for IL The attention of umpires is called to the fact that a growing practice on the part of batters is one reason why baseball games sometimes are longer than they need be. The habit of batters stepping out of the box for little or no cause is spreading and there is no good reason why it should be allowed. What is meant is batters, in a moment of petulance at real or fancied deliberateness on the part of the pitcher, stepping out of the box and thus wasting more time. At the least sign of slowness or hesitancy by the pitcher, out of the box steps, the batter, much as a peevish child might be expected to do. It’s a childish thing to do, anyway.

BOWLERS GO TO CINCINNATI

Event Will Be Held In February or March—Secretary Langtry Is \ Very Optimistic. Cincinnati has accepted the invitation to hold the 1918 tournament of the American Bowling congress. The event will ble held in February or March. Ar L. Langtry of Milwaukee, Secretary of the congress, telegraphed members of the alley owners’ association that he is optimistic for a sueceaful tourney despite the war.

WRONG PLAYER IS BANISHED

Umpire Rigler Should Have Fired Pitcher or Himself—How Johnny Evers Got in Wrong. i Fans who attended a recent game in Philadelphia wondered what Johnny Evers had done to warrant dismissal from the field. The true tale has been learned from Pat Moran. Umpire Rigler and Pitcher Jacobs were of a different opinion on many of the Pirates* pitches, and the latter were peeved. Evers came to bat in the sixth with the bases filled and two out. Johnny tried to coax a pass and the count was two balls arid one strike when Jake offered a doubtful pitch. Johnny insisted it was a ball, but Rigler called it a strike. “How about that pitch, Jake; wasn’t it a ball?” shouted the Quaker second baseman after flying out on the next one. “It certainly was,” replied Jacobs, who was smarting over other delusions. “There you are now!” yelled Johnny in glee, as he looked at Rigler. “You’re finished for today,” was the answer from the umpire. And then they wonder why a lot of people want the umpire curbed.

BALL DIDN’T TOUCH GROUND

Fielder Chases Up Ladder, Gets Pill Out of Water Tank and Nails Batter at Plate. Tex Jones, who used to play with the White Sox and now is out in the Western league somewhere, says this play actually happened in a game he took part in. It’s areal “tank town" story, at any rate. The playing field was along a railroad track, and there was a water tank without a roof on it just back of the center flelder. The batter hit a high fly, and it landed plunk into this open water tank. The batter thought he had a home run, so he jogged around at his leisure, but the center fielder chased up the. ladder at the side of the water tank, reached tn, got the bail that had come to the surface of the water, and from his perch threw home, getting the runner byastepL The umpire studied the rules, held the play was fair because the ball hadn’t touched “ground" after being hit, and allowed the putouL ■

FIND PHYSICAL WEAK SPOTS

Many Baseball Players Have Athletic Hearts and Flat Feet—Others Have Broken Toes. The physical examination for the army reveals the fact that a very large number of ball players are affected with athletic heart, which is a bar to enlistment. It is claimed that every man over twenty-five is troubled in that way. Then there are broken toes without number among the average players on the average team. There is also usually a broken leg or arm, crooked elbows, torn or misplaced ligaments and various other ailments. In one respect alone players will stand the test and that is eyesight.. It is certain that hardly a player under thirty-one in this. If he does he has succeeded in fooling his manager, since the slightest impairment of the vision ruin • him as a ball player. It probably would not be suspected, but many players will be rejected on account of flat feet For some reason probably half of the ball players lack normal Insteps. Bunions also are particularly common. Both the flat feet and bunions are caused by wearing baseball shoes, which have always shown a tendency to “remake” the feet in a few years.

PLAYERS PRAISE EACH OTHER

Jack Coombs Says George Burns Is Hardest Batter to Fool—Latter Lauds Pitcher. Some time ngo Jack Coombs, the Brooklyn pitcher, was discussing his work and his methods of pitching to the different batters. He was asked what batter he found it hardest to pitch to. “That’s a hard question to answer,” he replied. - “They’re all hard and any batter tn the. league, no matter how carefully you figure him out, is Hable to cut loose at any time and upset all your calculations,” When asked to name the batter who gave him the most trouble, he named George Bums, the Giants’ left fielder. “George Bums is a good batter,” said Coombs, “and it’s a hard matter to fool him, because he', rarely strikes at a bad ball. He’s a pretty tough proposition for a pitcher.” Some time later Bums was asked what pitcher hw found hardest to hit. He didn’t hesi 4 rate a moment. “That’s_ easy,” h' ‘ said. “Jack Coombs,"

BEFORE THE WAR

By DOROTHY DOUGLAS.

Arllne had broken their engagement because David had given up a splendid position to join the army. He had given no reason for his desire to become a soldier save that he had a “hunch." At least that had been David’S way of putting It. But the “hunch," as David slanglngly expressed It, had been a force so strong that he had been quite unable to resist its urge. Something, some thread of destiny, had drawn him from his exceptionally remunerative position and tied him firmly into the army. So David went his way in khaki and Arllne continued her life, missing David far more than she had reckoned &n. A year or two dragged past Arllne found one or two men whom she accounted friends, but front time to time she compared them with David 'and found them lacking. She was not aware that she was comparing them with David and would have scorned herself for it David had deliberately left her to join the army, and she did not even know that her erstwhile sweetheart was now Lieut David Cornwall. War began blasting its horrible way in Europe before Arllne realized that soldiering was a noble calling. She knew, too, that should America join the conflict she would want more than anything in the world to be in a position to help her country and its brave men. Not knowing that she, too, was the victim of a hunch, she went to one of the great New York hospitals and found herself making definite arrangements to enter as a probationary nurse.. It was fortunate that there was a vacancy.

Arllne figured that, entering the hospital in 1914, she could be a trained nurse In 1917 and should the war continue so long she could go and help in a foreign hospital. She did not like hospital work. It was the last profession she would have asked of herself, but she struggled desperately with duty’s grip about her. And still Arllne was unconscious that she, too, was following that mysterious thing called a hunch, even as David had followed his. All unknowingly she was steering her bark to the head of the stream where she and David had parted. She was in her third year of training when America entered the world conflict. Khaki-clad men were everywhere and sons of the navy in blue and white. The first time she saw a battalion of soldiers, new to khaki, hiking along the city streets, her heart squeezed up into her throat. When she returned to the club for probationary nurses near the hospital and went Into her narrow room and flung herself on her narrow white bed she still heard that steady shuffle of marching feet, z As she lay on that slim little bed in the slim little room it suddenly occurred to Arllne that some power of which she had not been conscious had prodded her along this nurse’s path. She knew, too, that David had been guided along his soldiering way in that mysterious manner. He now would be one of the first to go overseas at his country’s call. And with this personal remembrance of David a sharp little pang stabbed her heart. David’s feet would be shuffling even as those of the marching men whom she had seen; David would march to battle; David would enter the firing line; David might ■ Arllne shrank from the thought of what might happen to David.

Without a moment’s hesitation she went down to the office and telephoned David’s home. She had not forgotten the familiar number. She had only expected to get his address from some member of the family, but David’s voice answered her. When each had recovered from the palpitating silence that followed the hearing of the other’s voice after practically five years of separation, Arline said softly: “David, I wanted to tell you, before either of us is called to the other side, that I understand why you Joined the army. Hunches are great, big, wonderful things in life. I am sorry I spoke to you as I did and want to know if you have forgotten me. I will finish my work at the hospital In two months and hope to sail with the first lot of Red Cross nurses. I don’t want to go away without seeing you.” Arline blushed hotly. David’s laugh over the phone was so possessive and so tender. Arilne had not known a laugh could be so thrilling. “And I don’t want to go without seeing—and marrying you, Arline.” David’s voice was steady. “We have loved each Other all this time. I know it and I think you do, dear.” “I have always had a hunch that some wonderful thread of destiny would bind us together, dear ” David said very softly.

New Glass Industry.

The commercial spinning of glass has been lately reported as a new Venice industry. The straight fibers, m hanks, are supplied as glass cotton; the curled fibers are known as glass wool; and white felt pads one quarter to one-half inch thick are made by compressing either. The spun glass is chiefly used in electrical Insulation. The gUss wool Is suggested for wigs and various 'other purposes; and,, the pads may serve as filters,