Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 284, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 December 1917 — Page 2

A War Memento

By George Elmer Cobb

{Copyright. lilt. Western Newspaper Union.) “Where’s the sunshine gone to, little woman?’’ cried Bruce Manton, as he entered the house, home on the minute, as usual, from work. The room was full of It, outside all nature was bathed In It. Lettie Manton responded to the query in a halfpuzzled manner. Then she understood that It was the seriousness in her thoughtful face that her husband had referred to. She arose and greeted him with an enforced smile, but her kiss was as fervent as ever. “I was just thinking, dear,” she explained, “I received a letter from my mother’s half-brother an hour. ago. He is in New York city." “Good —grand!” sincerely jubilated Bruce. “Then he hah escaped from Belgium?” “He writes so,” responded Lettie, “but his property there has been de* stroyed and he is still suffering from a wound he received. He writes that he is too old and feeble for army work and has come back to his native country to die.” “Have you answered the letter?” “Oh, no. I wished to consult you about that first, of course.” “I don’t see any need of consulting,” declared Bruce. “He is your only relative. He is a victim of the war. helpless, probably robbed of everything he once owned. Write him at once, Lettie. This is his natural haven, with us. Tell him to come on and be sure of a glad welcome.” “Bruce,” said Lettie, .in broken tones quivering with emotion, “I think you are truly and grandly God’s good man 1” Bruce kissed and kissed the lovely face upturned to his own. He understood fully that Lettie had been worrying at the thought of saddling him with the-care of a relative. He never did things half way. He set all details of the present situation completely at rest now. “I’m glad your Uncle Vance is coming,” he salfl. “In the first place it’s our duty to look after him, under the circumstances. In the next, he will be company, yes, and maybe some help to you. lam always worrying while at work about your being alone way out here all day. Your uncle will be company for you. He can potter around the garden and do little errands for you, and what a lot that is interesting he can tell us about the warl” > Lettie wrote a heartsome letter to the refugee in the East forthwith. She took pleasure in fixing up their spare room and each succeeding day looked for the arrival of their expected guest A week passed by. “I hope Mr. Vance has not met with delay or accident” said Bruce, and Lettie was growing anxious: She would go outside and look across the half-mile expanse between their humble little home and the city’s limits half a dozen times a day. Their place was quite isolated, except for several houses in the same remote group as themselves. They formed the nucleus of a new subdivision of slow development. The roads were as yet unpaved and they had to use well water, but the house and lot had been offered to them cheap on long payments, so they had decided to-pioneer and made the task more hopeful, then certain, for Bruce had a position that brought In a very moderate-income. One morning Bruce went out, as was his routine, to let the chickens out for the day’s foraging, when he came to a dead stop with a stare. A man was just stepping from the shed. He was old and bent, poorly clad, unshaven, and the loose straws clinging to his hair and clothing indicated that he bad been sleeping in the shed all night. “Sort of late for your breakfast, aren’t you, friend?” bantered Bruce in his natural jolly way. “It’s got to seem so good to sleep without a lot of shells exploding all about you," responded the intruder, whom Bruce had at once put down as a tramp, “that I could sleep anywhere and enjoy it. I got here late and the house was all dark and I didn’t want th disturb you, so I bunked in among the fresh straw.” “Why!” shouted Bruce, enlightened, grabbing the old man and giving him, a friendly hug, “you’re Hubert Vance!” ‘♦What’s left of me,” assorted his vis-' itor, grimly, swinging a bandaged arm and pointing to a lacerated ear. “You act as if you were really glad to see me.” “Don’t you ever doubt it!” said Bruce briskly. “Lettie I” he called towards the house, “Here’s the good old friend we’ve been expecting for over a week.” Lettie came tripping from the house, welcome arms extended. Bruce could note the wrinkled, wearied face of the. old man thaw out under the Influence of genuine delight athls truly heartening reception. Uncle Hubert Vaiice slipped into harmony with the domestic economy of the family readily and comfortably. He had been for ten years a commercial agent in Belgium, had acquired quite some property, had shared in the frightful descent of the enemy upon that country, and had narrowly escaped with his life. The lads of the

neighborhood learned all this, and many a breathless juvenile audience he entertained with stories of the conflict that had robbed him qj his wealth. One thrilling incident in his adventurous career he loved to dwell over. It was where a shell came through a window in a room where he was sitting. Just in time he sprang at the messenger of death rolling across the floor, seized its spluttering fuse and snipped off and extinguished its burning end. “I’ve kept that shell as a memento," the old man would continue loquaciously. And then he would take them to the old shed and show them, high up on a special shelf, the round black object, the sight of which aroused their fertile fancies, later dwelling upon the frightful havoc an accidental explosion would create in the peaceful subdivision tract. The old man was failing fast Bruce and Lettie noticed it,-and he himself was aware of the fact “I’m not going to stay long with you, children,” he told them one evening, “and I hope when I’m gone there will be something left to repay you for all your great kindness to me. Ydu see, there’s a big indemnity covering my destroyed property in Belgium, if it is ever paid. I’m going to have a talk with you all about it in a day or two,” but the next day the old man was found seated in his favorite porch chair, dead, but with a peaceful smile on his old, furrowed face. Never a word did Bruce utter as to the expense the old man had been to him, and Lettie loved him all the more dearly for it. Their little one had come along the first month of Mr. Vance’s stay with them. They had named the child after him, and rapturously he had hinted at the provisions he should make for his namesake, “when he got his business affairs in shape.”

One morning, a few weeks later, Lettie was at a neighbor's with the baby. She had placed the little one asleep on a cushion, when her hostess came hurrying into the room where she was. “Oh, Mrs. Manton !” she cried, excitedly, “the high grass of your lot is all on fire. Some of those mischievous boys, I sea your shed is ablaze!” Lettie ran out to the door to share the agitation of her informant. She could see, half a mile away, the flames sweeping about the shed and darting over it toward the house. “Mind the baby!” she cried sharply, and started across the prairie in the direction of home. Half the distance accomplished, Lettie halted with a vivid shock. Of a sudden, a frightful detonation rent the air. She saw the shed soattered in fragments in every direction and some of the burning debris hurled to the roof of the house. “The bomb!” she fluttered. “The bomb that Uncle Hubert stored in the shed! Oh, the house is doomed, too!” An hour later no trace of the cherished little home was visible. Lettie wept bitterly and Bruce looked grave and worried, as they stood regarding the ruin about them. “Don’t despair,” Bruce tried to tell her cheerlngly. “You know ‘through heart-wreck and home-wreck, the hapr py sparrows build —’ ” “Oh, Mr. Manton! here’s a funny little iron box Ned Devon just poked out of the ashes of the old shed,” announced Lettie’s small brother, who was one of the crowd of curious youngsters attracted to the scene. “H. V.,” traced Bruce, Inspecting the box. “Why, those are your uncle’s initials, Lettie. He must have hidden it in the shed. It’s strong and solid and can’t be opened without the key.” “I wonder what is in it?” murmured Lettie. They took it to the house of a neighbor where they were to pass the night, and Bruce made an attack on the box with chisel and Itamdier. At length he succeeded in battering off the cover. A card showed first. “For my niece and her baby,” it read. Bonds, bank notes, some diamonds and a bag of gold pieces, an old watch, in turn amazed Bruce as he examined the contents of t&e box—a timely legacy that meant that Uncle Hubert had not boasted vainly when he had hinted at repayment for their unselfish kindness.

Old North English Dialect

A strange set of numerals was used by the elder generation of farmers in one of our northern dales, especially for counting sheep, says the London Chronicle, and the procedure was as follows: A gap was made in the wall just wide enough to admit one sheep at a time, and as the sheep were driven through the farmer counted them, making a notch in his stick at every 15. Phonetically the numerals sound like “yann, tane, tether, mether, pip, sax, sane, catterer, wheeler, dick, yann-lefe-dlck, tane-er-dlck, teth-er-dlck, meth-er-er-dick, boomfit.” “Boomfit” was fifteen, and so a notch was made in the stick, and the strange chant began all over again.

Another Scrape.

The Girl—She was in a motorcar accident —nothing serious. Only the enamel scraped off. The Brute —Her face or the machine? —London Opinion.

Ask Pa, He Knows.

Willie —Pop, will you tell me one wing? Father—What is it, Willie? Willie—lfl plant pussy willows, can I get cattails from ’em?

Immunity.

“Bliggins seems positively to enjoy his reputation for mendacity.” “Yes. He feels that he can go as far as he likes because nobody is going to believe what he says.”

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

Gown for Dinner or Evening Wear

There is no good reason for banishing evening gowns entirely from the scheme of things fashionable. Women will not care to have them as elaborate or splendid as they might be if the shadow of the war were lifted, because they are not in the mood to go to extremes in anythi&g, but it would be a mistake to forego them entirely. Those who can afford to are giving liberally and spending judiciously so as to support business —for business must go on. The luxury of an evening gown has very substantial reasons for indulgence. Fashionable women are ordering gowns that will serve for both dinner and evening wear; a two-in-one propo 1 - sltion that is altogether successful. In these, bodices are higher and more draped than in the regulation evening gown, and arms are at least veiled with sheer fabrics. They will be worn upon any occasion of great social interest, taking the place of the most formal of evening gowns with unquestioned propriety. The lovely frock in the picture is

Sure of the allegiance of sensible women who are looking for warmth and durability, as well as gqptUstyle,, in winter coats, these two models for the coldest weather present them-! selves. They are of fur-fabric, finished with fur about the neck in each case, and are long and ample, completely covering the figure from head to foot. In the best qualities of seal plush, or broadtail or caracul plushes, they are not less rich looking than the furs themselves and hold only second place in the matter of warmth, to natural skins. But by proper lining and interlining they may be made to tie the race with furs for this supremacy. The Coat at the left is cut on long, almost straight lines and might flare from the shoulders downward but for the wide belt of the material that girdles the waist loosely. This is slipped through a buckle at each side of the back and fastened under a similar buckle at the front The sleeves are unlike the usual coat sleeve in that they flare at the wrist, fitting less close tq. the arm than those that are finlshedwith a turned-back cuff. Very large and very practical pockets add style to the model. The buttons are of composition and they serve for fastening the coat at the front and to

Coats for Coldest Weather

not of the variety just described —it is an Evening gown pure and simple. Sifnplicity is its distinguishing feature, and “if eyes were made for seeing” this gown is its own excuse for being. It is made of Nile green satin, with a narrow skirt under a tunic. There is an invested plait at each side of the skirt, with a silver medallion set just above it. The bodice is merely a wide, crushed girdle of the satin wrapped easily about the figure. It is joined to the skirt with a piping of the satin and caught up at the waistline with a medallion of silver lace. Narrow bands of satin extend over the shoulders and a fine silk lace edging is set in the top of the bodice. A drapery of net, in the same color as the satin, Ts fashioned into ample, flowing “fl'ngel” sleeves. On each sleeve a silver medallion graces the net where it falls away from the wrist, making exquisite detail in the finish. Just one more silver medallion adds one of those unexpected touches by which genius reveals itself, and it appears where the tunic is caught up and fastened to the skirt at the right side.

make a finish for the sleeves. The collar is of skunk fur in this particular case, and may be fastened close up about the throat Furs are and liable to become more so, but this fact doesn’t seem to deter lovely women from usingi them as trimmings on coats or dresses in places where they do not add anything to the warmth of these garments. But they are riot so great an extravagance after all, because they last many seasons —with the right kind of care—and are always: fashionable. In the coat at the right, a wide border of skunk (also called martin) adds to the richness of the model and helps to proclaim it warm. This coat is another straight line model made just like coats of fur, with a wide collar of skunk and fur-covered buttons. It is belted across the front, and Is so much like seal skin in appearance that it takes more than a glance, even from practiced eyes, to determine that it is the product of the looms. Falsehood is like a nettle, because it usually stings those who venture to meddle with it. ' .

INTERESTING ITEMS FROM THE CITIES

Why Girl Candy Workers Swore Off Sweet Stuff NEW YORK. —While Miss Therese Cohen of 233 Minerva place, the Bronx, was tasting the cup of popularity in the candy factory in West Thirtyfourth street, where she works, the ten other girls in that place were tasting

everything else in sight that looked big enough to contain a diamond ring. Later, Miss Cohen tasted the dregs of the same cup while the ten foolish virgins wrestled with the making of resolutions never, never to taste any horrid old candy for the rest of theii lives, so help ’em. It all began when, in the midst of the forenoon, Miss Cohen suddenly gave a Bronx shriek and announced hysterically that she had dropped her diamond engagement ring in the pea-

nut brittle or the chocolate fudge or the marshmallow creams which she had been stirring. Since she wasn’t sure which, she began tasting the pieces of candy into which the three brands had been molded., Surreptitiously at first, but later —when Miss Cohen announced a reward — boldly the ten others began nibbling and quashing away at everything on the big marble-topped tables. Between sniffles and tears, Miss Cohen announced that it was her engagement ring—and, of course, that led to more sympathy and more search and more nibbling. Through it all she was the center of interest —even to have lost a diamond ring makes a girl popular in the Bronx. And then, just when it seemed that the whole candy supply was to be demolished, the porter came in to ask who had left a ring On the window sill in the washroom and Miss Cohen remembered that she had taken off her ring to wash her hands after working up that mean old peanut brittle. That’s all there is to it*—except that not a single girl offered to walk home with Miss Cohen that night—which, considering where she lives, may pot be so strange after all.

Baby Plagiarizes Scene From “Immortal Will” DETROIT.— A charming debutante is the daughter of Mr. arid Mrs. George Cole, 698 Artillery avenue. Although it’s a harsh charge to place against one so youthful, Miss Cole is a rank plagiarist. Merely to create an impres-

dents do say it was quite a hit. But even if it was not her own creation, Miss Cole’s tour in her mother’s laundry basket procured her a deal of public interest. IJer mother placed a basket of soiled clothes on the porch for the laundry man. In some way Miss Cole got in the basket. How she got there seems to be a mystery, but it is believed she became hidden in the clothes and w r as put in the basket with them. N Anyway the laundry man failed to see her and took her right away with him tri the laundry, and her mother was frantic with worry, fearing she had been abducted, and policemen were called to search for her, and oh —lots of excitement resulted. Her hiding place was revealed just as she was about to be dumped Into a boiling vat at the laundry. On her return home Monday afternoon, Miss Cole refused to discuss the Incident. She is three months old.

Jewish Refugees Reach America in Terrible Plight ' * ... AN ATLANTIC PORT.—With minds and bodies almost wrecked by starvation and other European war 89 Jewish war refugees from Palestine arrived here on a French liner. No brush or word picture could repro-

duce the story of.their escape from Palestine, subsequent to attacks by Turks, rescue by representatives of the joint distribution committee of American funds for Jewish war relief, their safe arrival at Berne, Switzerland and the hazardous trip across the Atlantic. ■ , With trembling bodies and eyes filled with tears of gratitude, they told their stories. They told of Jerusalem, a city once holding 65,000 Jews. But 25,000 are left—the others have starved

to death. They were four months going from Jerusalem to Berne. Many died from starvation and exposure while on the way. The few who made the trip successfully arrived starving, emaciated and half nude. Temporary relief awaited them at Berne, where clothing also was provided. En route, they were attacke'd by a band of young Turkish soldiers who stripped them of everything of value, especially clothing and food. Many of them have relatives in America by whom they will be cared for. Others will be taken care of by Jewish charity. At Berne, an additional 1,000 refugees are waiting to be brought over. Their first act on arriving on American soil was to offer prayer for their safe arrival; their first request was for food. The request was granted immediately by the New York members of the committee. To say that two million people are starving; that in the Lebanon alone more than 150,000 have perished of starvation and disease; that in Palestine the population of Jerusalem has fallen by over one-third since the war’s beginning, from the same causes, means perhaps very little to the horror-jaded mind But to have seen the naked children lying out in the cold and rain of the garbage-strewn streets of Beirut, crying out for a crust of bread, till even the Turkish officials could not bear it any longer and appealed to the American ambassador to send help; to have seen the thousands of deported Armenians, mostly women and children, literally rotting to death on the banks of the Euphrates, these were sights never to be forgotten by those that beheld them.

Wandering Ostrich Cleans Up City Back Yard SALT LAKE CITY.—John Stobbe of 3574 East Third street has an ostrich on his hands. Mr. Stobbe allows that it is some bird. At first it was generally Supposed that it had wandered away from Liberty park, with a panel of wire fence in its craw. The only dis-

pieces of broken dishes, knives, marbles, patchwork, tins and other bright morsels that appealed to his sense of things edible. Now the bird has settled down to watching for the falling of the apples and pears, unmindful of the decreasing supply on the trees. S. R. Lambourne, superintendent of the city narks said last nigh to that the bird undoubtedly belongs at the Wandemere resort. Insistence of many persons who telephoned to him that they had served the city by finding one of its ostriches led Mr. Lambourne to investigate when the bird had strayed. He notified the officials of the resort, but at last reports the ostrich was still holding down the outfield and Infield in ths Stobbe apple vrchard. , . ,

sion with the young set, she went visiting Monday in a laundry basket. Miss Cole should be chided for dabbling in sensationalism that way. She should remember that a certain writing gentleman, Mr. Shakespeare, anticipated her by a couple of centuries. Mr. Shakespeare originated the laundry-basket idea in a show many years ago, called the “Merry Wives of Windsor.” He had Mr. Falstaff, a character in this show, do the laundry-basket stunt, and the old resl-

ficulty about this explanation was that keeper found neither ostrich nor section of fence missing from his compound. In the meantime, the puzzle that his presence in the neighborhood provoked did not disturb the ostrich. He approached the back yard of the Sjltob- • be residence under squatter’s right. The yard was strewn with pears and apples from fruit trees. These he 'cleared up forthwith, along with such