Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 152, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 July 1918 — Page 3

Van Vivier’s Scoop

By F. M. GILMER

[Copyright. 1918, Weatern Newspaper Union.). Existence, as Philip Van Vivier planned it, was to be a very pleasant tffair, though it had little enough ibout it of that strenuous life so arlently advocated by Mr. Roosevelt He aad youth, and health, and wealth, and he pictured the future a gay kaleidoscopic mingling of golf, and polo ponies, and grand opera, and little suppers after the play. Then, too, to crown it all, there was Madge. Madge, tall and slight, and svelte, with the tawny gold in her hair, and the eyes that changed with every changing thought—that were as blue as summer skies when She smiled, and grew black as midnight when she thrilled to any deep emotion. Philip could hardly remember a time when he had not loved her. They had grown up, boy and girl, together, with something singularly similar In their fate. Both were orphaned children, left to the untender care of unwilling relatives, and Philip never forgot the moment of their meeting. His uncle’s place adjoined that of Madge’s guardian, and he had been wandering about the ground a forlorn and lonely childish figure, when he first came upon the little maid. She gave one long look at his somber face, and mourning clothes, and then with the swift and intuitive sympathy that God gives to even the youngest Child, she went up to him. “Little boy," she lisped, for she was scarcely more than a baby, “little boy, is *oo lonesome, and doesn’t nobody love ’oo?” “No,” he answered with tt sob from the depths of his hungry little heart. “Don’t c’y, little boy,” she comforted, slipping her hand in his. “I ’ill lovq ’oo and ’oo won’t never be lonesome any more,” and, Indeed, It seemed to Philip he had never been lonesome again. There was always Madge. But who may count securely on the future? Move the kaleidoscope ever so gently, and its figures change. One turn of the hr nd of fate and the bright p!\ are one’s dreams painted are shattered forever. There came a day when Philip had to do, not with visions of a golden future, but with a hard and merciless present. Suddenly as an unexpected thunderbolt came the failure of the trust company in which bls fortune was invested, and he awoke one morning to find himself that most pitiable of all creatures on earth—the man who needs money, and knows no way of earning it. He had taken the blow standing, with a smile on his lips, like the thoroughbred he was, and just how deep the hurt went none knew. “Pleasant prospects,” was his sole comment, with a shrug of his shoulders to those who would have condoled with him on his loss, “a beer income, and a Champagne taste. Do you happen to know the best way to adjust them?” He might meet the situation with laughter and scoffing so far as others were concerned, but when it came to Madge It was another thing. ‘T can’t ask her to marry a beggar,” he said to himself, setting his teeth, and with a face as white as death, “and I’m not poltroon enough to settle down and live on her money,” and there had been a terrible scene in which he had told her this, and released her from her promise to marry him. “Oh, Philip, Philip,” she cried, clinging to him, “what good is all my money to me if I can’t make things easy for you? Surely there is more than enough for us both.” Then he tried to explain to her, blunderingly and haltingly, that something that Is dearer to man than even love of woman—that something which he must have, or die of self-loathing—-his own self-respect. “I couldn’t live without It, darling,” he said at last, passionately, “if I gave In to fate without one struggle, and was content to let you support me, I should imagine your contempt for such a weakling in every tone of your dear voice. I should see it in every glance of your dear eyes. No, no, I must make my fight and win my place in the world of men, or I will die fighting on the battlefield. If I succeed I will come back to claim my own. If I fail, a better man wins. Don’t you see how it must be that way?” And in the end Madge “saw.” The sympathy that always understood others was part of her charm, and Philip went away. At college he had rather distinguished himself by some clever skits in the college journal, and so it seemed natural to him to turn to journalism an the most available way of settling the bread and butter problem. A friend obtained a place for him on the staff of the morning Asterisk, where he began at the bottom of the reportorial ladder, and learned among other bitter pieces of knowledge that the public hungers and thirsts for gory details of murder, and has but a lukewarm interest in the higher criticism, and that on a newspaper staff a university degree is regarded with far less respect than a nose for news. Still, the glamour stripped from journalism, Philip kept doggedly on. He acquired a reputation for being faithful and accurate. He was a gourmand for work and the city editor began to speak hopefully Of him, but

advancement comes slowly in a newapaper office, and to Philip Madge seemed an immeasurable distance off, when suddenly he made his great scoop. It was ae merest accident — successes mostly are, if we knew the truth of them. One evening he was walking along one of the fashionable residence streets when suddenly he was startled by a scream, and looking up he saw a woman with the wild eyes and cunning of a maniac sitting on the very outer coping of the walls of a tall house, where she waved her arms gleefully, and leaned dizzily forward to peer into the street below. In an instant all the mystery of the drawn blinds, and Jealously guarded doers of the mansion, at which many had marveled, was revealed. Here was one of those family tragedies, at which the world guesses—some poor crazed creature, living out her life within padded walls, who had escaped from her keepers, and* with that instinct of flight from a prison which survives all reason, was preparing to take a fatal leap into the street below. The street crowd that seems to spring from the very pavement whenever anything unusual happens, had already gathered. They could see the frantic gestures of the keeper vainly trying to call the woman, but at every movement, the crouching creature’s figure on the perilous edge made a motion as if to cast herself down, and for very fear the attendant dare not approach her. The great front door of the house was flung suddenly open, and terrified servants rushed about vainly seeking assistance, but none knew what to do, and the crowd below could only wait breathlessly for the impending tragedy. It had taken Phi 3 but an instant to realize the scene, and with a sudden inspiration he dashed past the servant in the doorway, and up the stairway. The crazed woman was still young and pretty. A dainty silken robe, and a filmy lace scarf blew about her. Evidently she was a woman of fashion and society, so the thoughts flew through his mind as he dashed up the three flights of steps and through the open door in the roof through which she had evidently climbed. He knew well enough he might be going to his death, but he only smiled a little grimly, and moved on towards the pathetic figure swaying on the ledge of the wall. The woman looked up at the sound of an approaching step. She saw a handsome young man —a young man such as she vaguely remembered in that world that was not all horrible dreams and padded walls —coming towarc her. When he reached her he made a courtly bow, and offered her his arm, and without one protest, mechanically, naturally, as if they had been on the ballroom floor, she arose and put hei hand within it, and together they started toward the house, treading th< narrow ledge, whose outer edge was death. A single push of the crazec ; woman’s feeble hand and mutllatlor | waited for them below, but there was not a tremble in the man’s voice as he asked her:

“And what did you think of the new tenor this winter at the opera?” In the street below the crowd stood silent, tense with excitement, until they saw Philip hand the woman, still with courtly grace, through the dooi In the roof, and then it broke into tumultuous cheering. As for Philip, his one thought wat to get to the office. His part In th< adventure appealed to him not at all It was what any fellow would have done, he thought, and he could leav« that out, but he realized the value of the story. The secret of the darkened mansion. The closed blinds. The beautiful woman, with her wild, mad eyes—it was full of color, it was picturesque. Besides it was a scoop. Nc other reporter had been there, and 8 scoop is as dear to the newspapei heart as a first-born to a mother. There was still some of the excitement of the adventure tingling in his veins, and as he wrote he felt his description was vivid, and he turned it in to the city editor with the calm and unmixed satisfaction of knowing that it wa? good “copy.” There is, perhaps, no other joy in life equal to that of the younj writer who reads his own productions in type, and Philip’s first conscious act the next morning was to reach for the paper. He had expected his story to be given some prominent place; perhaps to,be featured. To hit dismay it was not even printed. He looked the paper over twice to have suspicion deepen into certainty. It had been left out How long he might have stared at the paper in bewilderment he never knew, but that two letters caught his eyes, as they lay upon his table. One was from the city editor of the Asterisk, and he pounced upon it for an explanation. “Dear Van Vivier,” he read, “sorry, but your scoop was scooped. The distressed damsel you rescued is old La Roux’s daughter, and La Roux,' as you appear not to know, is the heaviest stockholder in the Asterisk. 1 Naturally he wanted your story killed. Virtue is rewarded, however. He suggests you for night editor |n plaoe of Clarson who has resigned. Report for duty tonight” The other letter was from Madge.lt said: “Dear Philip: I have heard of your rescue of poor Fannie La Roux. How could you be such a hero, and such a goose as to take such a risk? Ton need a guardian, sir, and I am going te marry you to take care of you on this day one month. You can’t refueo a lady, you know. Tours, Madge.” Philip read the letter twice, and then he bowed his head on the table, and when he raised It Mt vere very dim and tender.

THE RENSSELAER DAILY REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

Sheep on White House Grounds

Bought by President and Mrs. Wilson, to Crop the Grass and Increase the Meat Supply

Never before In America have sheep had so exclusive quarters. The White House is so well guarded that the splendid herd is perfectly safe, as not even a lap dog could squeeze in without being observed.

POULTRY POINTERS

Keep the hens confined to your own land. Don’t keep a male bird. Hens lay Just as well without a male. Don’t overstock your land. Purchase well-matured pullets rather than hens. Don’t expect great success in hatching and raising chicks unless you have had some experience and have a grass plot separate from the yard for the hens. Build a cheap house or shelter. Make the house dry and free from draughts, but allow for ventilation. Fowls stand cold better than dampness. . . Keep house and yard clean. Provide roosts and dropping boards. Provide a nest for each four or five hens. Grow some green crop in the yard. Spade up the yard frequently. Feed table scraps and kitchen whste. Also feed grain once a day. Feed a dry mash. Keep hens free from lice and the house free from mites. Kill and eat the hens in the fall as they begin to molt and cease to lay. Preserve the surplus eggs produced during the spring and summer for use during the fall and winter when eggs are scarce and high in price.

No Hope in Fried Whale With High Cost of Food

We are not greatly elated over the prospect of eating fried whale, although the dish has been pronounced excellent by Boston connoisseurs. When corn and oats were suggested as a substitute for wheat all patriotically fell in line, for it was thought that horse'feed would be cheaper than man food, which would mean a financial saving as well as conservation for the good of the country. But we reckoned without our restaurateur. Immediately substitute sandwiches began to perform the feat of diminishing in size and increasing in price at the same time. The great abundance of the whale would seem to justify the hope for a large meal at a nominal cost, but there is a fear that the restaurateur will soon learn to slice him up with a safety razor with the same dexterity that he can now make a raisin pie with one raisin.—Philadelphia Telegraph.

Shooting Stars Date Back Into the Prehistoric Times

Our knowledge of shooting stars extends into the oldest history of humanity, back into prehistoric times. Yet today no one knows exactly what a shooting star is, or from where it comes, says the Popular Science Monthly. A hypothesis proposed in 1875 and generally accepted today is that meteorites are fragments broken from small planetary masses by volcanic explosions, brought about by a sudden expansion of gases, steam and probably hydrogen. The broken bits, after their separation, are believed to arrange themselves in swarms which cross the orbit of the earth in accordance with a definite law. Shooting stars, then, undoubtedly come from within our solar system and are broken bits of a world body destroyed by volcanic events. Many meteorites have been found in Arizona.

How Dust Causes Fires.

Spontaneous combustion, is caused, so the chemists tell us, by floating particles of co&l dust or other inflammable material jostling and clashing against one another until the friction they set up raises their temperature to the ignition point, says Popular Science Monthly. If this explanation is correct, it would appear as if such fires could be prevented by perfect ventilation. Such, however, is not the case, for ventilation may actually help to bring about fire by spontaneous combustion. Air facilitates oxidation, really fanning the warm dust into a blaze. Keep air damp and quiet *•

Fuel Value of Potatoes Higher Than of Any Other of Fresh Vegetables Used

Potatoes contain all the different substances needed for the body. Protein and minerals for growth and repair; starch and,fat for energy; and minerals and roughage for body regulation. A diet of whole milk and potatoes Is perfect; the fat and protein of the milk supplement the small quantity of these in the vegetable. The fuel value of potatoes is higher than that of any other fresh vegetable used, according to Lucy Cordlner of the University of Minnesota. Common methods used in the preparation and cooking of potatoes are wasteful. When potatoes are peeled and allowed to stand for an hour or two in cold water they lose over half the protein and one-third their minerals. The peeling also takes food with it. When cooking is begun in cold water the loss Is nearly as great. Potatoes can be prepared with no loss of food value if. they be first blanched by cooking in boiling water for ten minutes, then plunged into cold water, and the skin rubbed or peeled off. Cooking can be completed in any way desired, baking, steaming or boiling. A quick oven is essential for baking and produces potatoes that are dry, mealy and easily digested. If the skin is pricked with a fork toward the end of baking they are further improved by escape of steam. Soggy, watery potatoes do not digest easily and may cause gas.

Wise and Otherwise.

Wise is the man who can recall a previous engagement when he receives a disagreeable invitation. Her strenuous effort to live up to her neighbors’ expectations is what chases the roses from a woman’s face. It is easier for some butchers to get six hams out of a hog than it is to get one truthful word out of some men. A man who has something to say always knows when he has said it —then he shuts up. “Time is money,” said the man who paid a jeweler $1.50 for repairing a 98-cent watch.

Farming on Paper Is Not Like the Farmer Finds It

Farming on paper is really rare sport, writes Robert M. Gary in the Atlantic. I have planned entire farms, drawing them neatly on paper, with dotted lines to show the rows of berries and crosses to indicate trees. I have planted my crops, and cultivated them, harvested them, marketed them —always at a surprising profit, and without a moment’s worry about weather, caterpillars, birds or beetles. My hens have all laid two hundred eggs a year; my berries have all sold for 25 cents a box. Not a cow ever had hoof-and-mouth disease; not a pig had cholera. My farm was always situated on a New Hampshire moun-tain-side, overlooking lakes and rivers and sunsets. A soil which in reality produces blueberries and sweet fern, where it does not extrude rocks, on my farm is a foot in depth, as soft and moist as brown sugar, and fertile as an English meadow.

Can’t Spend Their Money.

Two of the wealthiest persons in Ottawa county, Oklahoma, are Joe Car-war-yee-tee and his squaw. They are Quapaw Indians and live well, according to their notions in a rude log cabin on about $250 a year. They scarcely touch the immense pile of gold that is theirs which comes to them as royalties from land on which mineral deposits were discovered several years ago. Twice a year this Quapaw pair visit town for the purpose of laying in a supply of gaudy-colored calico for the wife and three or four pairs of overalls for the husband, and appear o feel even this 1* great extrava--1 -i——- --- - - x

Moon's influence on Plant Growth Wholly Negligible, Is Belief of Scientists

The old belief that the moon has some sort of influence on plant growth still persists in some farming ’sections. Some farmers, it is said, 'refuse to plant crops or to kill hogs unless the moon Is in some particular position. The influence of the moon on the growth of crops, or on other agricultural operations, has always been denied by scientific men. The following brief statement by C. F. Marvin, chief of the United States weather bureau, printed in the Rural New Yorker, shows what they think of the matter: “It is the general belief of scientists that the moon has no appreciable influence on temperature, rainfall, or any other weather element, or on plant growth. “Plant growth depends upon temperature, light, humidity and plant food (both in the soil and in the air), and its availability. Obviously the moon neither mellows the ground nor fertilizes it, neither does it alter the composition of the atmosphere; hence it affects neither the mechanical condition of the soil nor the kind or quantity of available plant food. “If the moon has any influence on plant growth, it would seem that it must exert this Influence through its light. Experiment, however, shows that when a plant is so shadowed that it gets only one one-hundredth of normal daylight, It grows but little better than it does in absolute darkness. Full daylight is about 600,000 times brighter than full moonlight; hence one one-hundredth of daylight, already too feeble to stimulate appreciably plant activity, is still 6,000 times brighter than full moonlight. The conclusion is that, even in respect to light stimulus, the moon’s influence on plant growth is wholly negligible.’’

SIX SMILES

All Alike. “Savages will trade vast tracts of land for a string of beads.” “Well,” replied Miss Cayenne. "I know a man who wears evening clothes and carries a cane, and he did the same thing. He went broke trying to pay for a pearl necklace.” incredible Hardship,

since he left home.” A Good Reason. “Why don’t you accept him if he has offered to have his life Insured in your favor?” “Because if he was a good risk for the insurance company, he’d be a bad one for me.” Market Term Defined. “Pa, what’s *manipulation for a rise) mean?” “When I pull the bedclothes off you in the morning.” No Trouble.

The small boy stood at the garden gate and howled and howled. A passing old lady paused beside him. “What’s the matter, little man?” she asked in a kindly voice. “O-o-oh!” wailed the youngster, “Pa and ma won’t

take me to the pictures tonight!” “But don’t make such a noise,” said the dame, admonishing. “Do they ever take you when you cry like that?” “Sometimes they do, an’ sometimes they d-d-don’t,” bellowed the boy. “But it ain’t no trouble to yell I” . * The Correct Adjective. , “Don’t enff the lltle fellow, madam,” remonstrates a passerby. “Surely he has done nothing very bad, a sweet little child like that” “Sweet child is right” said the wrathful woman. “E’s been an’ swallowed our sugar ticket.”

How to Detect Glucose in Preserves, Jam, Marmalade

Glucose In fruit preserves may be discovered as follows: In the case of jelly a teaspoonful should be dissolved in two tablespoonfuls of alcohol contained In a glass vessel. In the case of jam or marmalade the same process Is carried out, but It Is necessary to filter off the solid matter by running the mixture through a piece of muslin. Allow the solution to become perfectly cool, and then add an equal volume, or a little more,' of strong alcohol. If glucose is present a dense white precipitate slowly settles down. Where no glucose has been employed there Is no precipitate, save, in some cases, a very trifling sediment of proteid matter which, however, is so small that it could not possibly be mistaken for the sediment which glucose produces. The last-named is not particularly harmful In itself, but it Is very frequently used as an adulterant in supposedly pure preserves for extra profit,-—Popular Science Monthly.

“So your brother’s joined the army?” “Yes.” “How does he like it?” “Oh, the food is something awful. Why, he hasn’t had pie for breakfast once

LOST-A CAT

By VINCENT G. PERRY.

(Copyright, 191 S, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Bart Chalmers had not spoken to Pauline Randall for over a year. Of course, when they had the quarrel that had caused all the trouble he believed he didn’t love her and, for the first two or three months, could even pass her on the street without feeling a desire to renew the friendship—for Bart had pride, too much pride. That was why they had quarreled _ln the first place. The first inkling he had that he really loved her came the time he saw her at a dance with another boy—a fine-look-ing fellow, too, who monopolized her company for every dance. She seemed so wrapped up In her new escort that she didn’t appear to notice that he was having every dance with pretty little Bess Keener. Even if she had noticed it she would know that there was nothing to fear—for Bess’ reputation as a fickle flirt was widely known Bart reflected afterward. Although their quarrel had separated them for six months, he thought that it could be straightened out 111 some way. It required courage to speak to Pauline again. How would he go about it? Before he had decided a “Lost and Found” advertisement In the morning paper opened a road for him. “Lost—an orange Angora kitten, half-grown; answers to name of Angela; reward; apply Miss Pauline Randall, 347 Redan street!” The minute he read it he realized the opportunity offered him. At first he thought of going out In search of the stray kitten, but after contemplating, hit upon a better plan. After making a few Inquiries he learned that Mrs. Regan O’Dell dealt in Angora kittens, and lost no time in searching her out. Mrs. O’Dell had an orange Angora kitten that she assured him was only half-grown. He paid the price she asked for it without a moment’s deliberation, although it was a steep one. It was a timid Bart that approached Pauline’s home, the kitten in a basket under his arm. There was a man with a basket just leaving the house. Just his luck, he thought, the pet, had been returned. His spirits rose when he saw a yellow cat escape from the basket and the man Start in pursuit of it. There was a line-up of people with cats in baskets ahead of Bart. If the right one was in one of those baskets he was done for, but it was too late to back out. One by one the people were taken Into the reception room where," apparently, Pauline was waiting to inspect the contents of their baskets, and one by one they came out still with the cats. Bart straightened his tie and gripped his basket firmly as a servant showed him to the room where the Inspections had been held. Pauline, seated in the center of the room, looked worn out She looked up at his entrance. ‘Why—why!” she gasped, as she jumped to her feet in surprise. “Why, Bart —Mr. Chalmers!” “I have a cat here,” Bart hastened, as he clutched at “his breast to discover if his heart had flown to the roof of his mouth. “Yes; of course.” Pauline’s surprise still had the best of her, but she was doing her best to appear unconcerned. “I have had so many brought here today. Please let me see the one you have.” No sooner had Bart taken it from the basket than she had it in her arms. “Angela, dear,” she cried, as she hugged it to her, “where have you been, you naughty kitten? Oh, Bart, where did you get my cat? I thought she was lost for good,” “I—l—just found it,” Bart stammered, almost overcome by the success of his plan. “I did not think it was your cat—that is, not until I saw your advertisement. I have been waiting out there for nearly an hour.” “How good of you. I would not have let you stay there for an instant had I known.” It was surprising how many things they found to talk about. The restored "Angela” was forgotten for the time being, but it made itself comfortable on Pauline’s lap, where, most likely, it would have remained undisturbed for some time had not the servant ushered another person with a cat into the room. "Here Is your cat Miss Randall,” a voice that Bart recognised immediately said. “She just come home to me, half an hour ago.” It was Mrs. O’Dell. "Why, there Is some mistake! Angela has been returned. See?” Pauline said, as she held the other up for Inspection. “Why, this is Angela’s twin sister. This young man bought her from me this morning. They are alike, aren’t they?” "Oh!” was all Pauline said, as she took the real Angela into her arms. When they were left alone, Bart blurted out a confession. “It was all because I wanted to talk to you. Panline.” Pauline did not speak for a minute. “Aren’t the kittens splendid together,” she said at last. “They are both so pretty I think I wfllkeep the one you brought, too.” Bart felt that eluding a reply was her way of telling him that there could be no friendship between them again. "I will go then,” he said, as he arose. His feelings were expressed in hl* tone. “Sit down. I want you to stay* Pauline smiled, as she stretched out her hand to him. “Angela has brought me back the only friend I ever really cared for. Don’t you think TTappinMO' a good name for this now eat?”