Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 171, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 July 1918 — Page 2

From the Beginning

By LINCOLN ROTHBLUM

(Copyright, 1918, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Miss Zebiah Seagrave, unmarried, tinbeaut-ful and of uncertain age, pulled the cane-bottom rocker closer to the window, and, folding her thin hands :n her lap, heaved a great sigh. “Zebiah,” called a weak, complaining voice from the other room. And Zebiah lifted her angular form and listlessly walked to the bed where lay a frail, old wr man. “What is it, mother?” she asked gently, though her voice had a wearv note in it, “aren’t you comfortable?” “It jest seems as ff I can’t get comfortable,” was the querulous response. "If I face the window, the sun bothers me; and if I face the door, I don’t see the sun; and if I set up, my bones ache.” And the voice dwindled off in a whining wail. Zebiah did not answer. She lowered the shade to cut off the bright glare of the sui, straightened the pillows, and, drawing up a chair to the bed, picked up a book preparatory to reading.

“I do»»’t want to be read to and you ought to know it*” the old lady muttered, her brow furrowing in a million wrinkles, “you don’t pay no attention to me at all, though I don’t -know as I ought to be expectin’ much more from a stepchild.” Zebiah seemed restrained from arguing by the invalid’s weakness. “Now, mother,” she softly replied, laying the offending book on the table, “don’t work yourself up. You know Doctor Merrifield said you should not get excited —your heart won’t stand it.” Mrs. Seagrave waved her shrunken hands dramatically. “There you go mentioning that' doctor again to me. Ain’t I told you how I hate him with his Vile tastin’ medicines and pills that stick in my threat?” Her voice rose to a shrill accent. “Anyhow, ’pears to me he likes to come to see me—every other day would be enough to take keer of an old woman, to say nothing of twice a day like he’s been hangin’ aroun*. I suppose it’s my money what he’s after as soon as I’m cold —running up a big bill like that.” And the outburst of temper was followed by a protracted racking pough, rendering the body so weak and helpless it scarcely seemed alive, Zebiah petted the scant, ashy-white “-hair. “I am sure Doctor Merrifield does not want your money, mother,” she soothed, “he hasn’t taken a penny yet for all the medicines he has given you. We all want to see you get well.” Her ministrations were interrupted by the entrance of a quiet, earnest looking man, whose bald head and bowlegs seemed strangely at variance. He smiled encouragingly at Zebiah. “How did she sleep last night, Miss Seagrave?” he questioned in a low tone. “I was up all night, doctor, as the cough gave her no rest. She is not much better this morning.” the doctor turned with professional interest toward the patient who lay so white and still, Zebiah stole quietly from the room. It was the mirror in the gilt frame, sole adornment of the bare walls of this “sitting room” that claimed her attention. The close inspection did not please her and quick tears of self-pity came to her eyes. As she stood off so that the small mirror might reflect her figure, the fiat-chested, hipless, colorless reflection brought forth audible suffering. “Yes, I’ve given her my best years, even if she isn’t my mother. I’ve stood her abuse and I’ve given up friends.” The thoughts seemed too great for utterance and Zebiah sank into the cane-bottom rocker which creaked sympathetically, as she buried her head in her arms, her shoulders shaking with her sobbing. Doctor Merrifield entered the room.

“Come, Miss Seagrave,” he comforted," patting her. head, “you mustn’t take such tilings so to heart. Your mother has been ill a very long time and you know she has been getting steadily worse.” Zebiah rose and wiped her eyes in a handkerchief already sadly wet. “Oh, it’s not that” “I know you have been very patient and good,” the doctor continued, and he added in a hesitating manner “I hope yoy will be rewardeo.” • * The pent-up gates of suppressed emotion gave way. “What has my goodness and patience brought me? I have become a recluse —even the children can point out ‘old maid Zebiah,’ our minister questions me what disposition I will make of her money, and but yesterday I heard Widow Bliss refer to someone ‘as homely as Zebiah.’ What reward can atone.for all that?” “You must not let such unkindness weigh upon your mind. Miss Seagrave. We all have our crosses to bear. Even my life has not been a bed of roses —” Zebiah looked up at the kindly face in surprise. “For a great many years,” he continned, not noti ci ng the in terruption, “I turned over every cent I Earned as a machinist to support my crippled father and Invalid mother and to put my brother through school. I longed to study medicine, but —” The memory seemed too poignant a pain to recall. Zeblah's faded countenance assumed a look of sympathetic understanding. “And for how long did “When I was thirty-five,” he spoke

very softly, “father died, and mother lived but a month longer. My brother married and then 1 started to learn all I did not know. It is not easy to learn at thirty-five—not medicine, at any rate —and it was ten years later before I got the right to hang out that sign you see in front of my office. And at forty-five, a new doctor does ( not easily build up a practice in a,small town —• indeed there were some nights whenI sent myself to bed supperless like a naughty boy being punished for having spoilt—his life,” he added bitterly. Zebiah forgot herself as she saw the need for quick sympathy. “But look how splendidly you have done, doctor, in the five years you have been here. Surely that is encouraging.” “It is if it were not counteracted by hearing people speak, of ‘that old batch,” ‘old baldy,” and ‘bowlegs,’ and wondering ‘who’ll he leave his money to when he dies.’ ” A faint call from the sick room interrupted their exchange of confidences and both stood over the figure breathing so laboriously. The doctor felt the pulse and looked very compassionately at the lined features. “GuessTm clone for, Zebiah,” came in a far-away voice, “and —and—don’t let the Doc get my money. I’d ruther —l’d ruther —” A weak cough stopped her. In a moment she went on. “I’d ruther see you have it. I ain’t been so kind to you, Zebiah, these many years. You’ll forgive me, child?” With tears coursing down her faded cheeks, Zebiah leaned over and kissed the shrunken lips. “There is nothing to forgive, mother.” “I wish I’d been your real mother, girl, I might’ve done better by you. Don't give the Doc any of my money.” Silence ensued.

The doctor noislessly arose and covered the body with the sheet. “She is dead,” he said simply. Zebiah retreated into the other room and the doctor followed. She was dryeyed and felt horribly old. Irritating and complaining as her stepmother had been, she now had no one and the void seemed too immense to fill. Her head sank upon her chest. “Zebiah,” the doctor called. Zebiah was aroused from her apathy by his use of her Christian name. “Zebiah,” he repeated, “will you marry me?” Zebiah stared in incredulous amazement. •■*»«-. “We are both alone in the world he continued gently taking her hands. “Your goodness to your stepmother has aroused love I long thought gone. Don’t you think you could learn to care for me?” “But, doctor, doctor,” Zebiah’s voice seemed • another part of her, “I m only “old-maid Zebiah, ‘homely old Zebiah.’ ” “And I’m only ‘that old batch,’ ‘old baldy,’ ‘bowlegs.’' Come, it’s not too late, Zebiah, lets start from the beginning.” Zebiah seemed to have lost her angles, her hair seemed to curl about her forehead and long-absent color mounted her cheeks. “Yes, let’s start again,” she whispered:

PECULIAR SOURCE OF RIVER

Pool Flowing Fron/ Cave Gives Rise to the Oklawaha Stream in Heart of Florida. Down through the heart of Florida winds one of the most beautiful of American rivers, aptly named by the Indians Oklawaha, “Crooked Waters.” The steamboat that carries you up the stream scrapes its sides against the river banks as it twists through the palmettos and live oaks which line the river bed. Every few minutes it seems that the boat will run into the banks, which refuse to stay at the sides, but are always shifting so as to get directly in the way. Just as you decide what to do when the apparently inevitable collision shall occur, a long pole, dexterously guided, shoots out, the boat swings around, and you are safeuntil next time. Presently the charm of the tropics seizes you, and you forget to worry about the boat. You hear a sudden “kerchunk,” and a sleepy alligator flings himself from his sunny log into the water. The swamps beside the river are rank with lilies, water hyacinths, and yellow jasmine. Gray Spanish moss twines over thetrees. The foliage is so dense that you readily imagine yourself in the African jungle instead of only a few miles from civilization. The water of the Oklawaha is black as you look down, but if you dip up a cupful it is clear and sparkling. Down to join the dark river flows the Silver Spring run, a stream as clear as the Oklawaha is turbid. Here the boat leaves the main stream of the Oklawaha and travels up the tributary to its source, the mysterious Silver spring, a (pool 75 feet deep, flowing frbm a great cave. How’ the water gets into the cave, and why it rushes forth with such force are problems yet waiting for scientific explanation. The great pool is 600 feet from dip to lip, a diamond in an emerald setting.—Chicago Daily News.

She Was No Piker.

~ The lovely lady consulted the popular attorney in regard to getting a divorce. She was particularly interested in knowing how much it would cost. After looking over the iase the lawyer said: “This is comparatively easy; I can get you a divorce without any publicity whatever for five hundred dollars.” She looked at him haughtily. “I have plenty of money,” she said. “How much will it cost with plenty of publicity and everything?" He saw that she w’as a person who wanted things done right, so he hastily revised his figures.—Cleveland Plain Dealer.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER. IND.

WELL-PAID WOMEN BUY NEW CLOTHES

New York.—A wounded Anzac bad come to America to lecture. He bore some honorable scars on his body, which were symbolized by stripes on his arm. A woman touched the stripes and asked what were his worst wounds. He described one, which was a e'ean hole made by a bullet. In his Informal Anzac manner, he asked if she would like to see it. She would. So would everyone else at the luncheon. So he showed her the bullet hole below the collar bone. > , . < “How very disappointing!” she exclaimed. “I expected a great gash.” The Anzac buttoned his collar thoughtfully, and turning to the table said: “Now, I ask you, what are we going to do, with women if they begin to expect so much of men in this war?” And what will they do with them? Men have begun to expect so much of themselves, that % the situation is the most vitally interesting thing onthisplanet, next to the war, observes a distinguished fashion writer. Women are gaining so much more by this war than they ever demanded, that many are puzzled and some are nearhysterical. Once we were a contented race; then we became an unquiet sex; then we became a restless force; and then we became a militant power. Those with the keenest visions saw ahead of them a long They outlined the propaganda of self-educa-tion for women; they lectured to men and of men concerning what we should have in the way of industry and commercial opportunity. Whenever men said that we were not sufficiently educated to take over the commercial burdens of the world, we retorted that we would never be educated if we did not begin to study. Women Spend More Money. • Of one thing the prophets are sure; that women, making money, will spend more. Not having to ask for it, they will cease to be petulant about it. When a woman knows there are three thousand jobs open to her and that she can command as good a salary as the man she sent to war, she is not going to be niggardly about getting new clothes, enjoying herself and refurnishing her house. Human nature never changes, no matter what else changes on this planet, and spending will be a woman’s antidote to hard work. If she has been repressed in the matter of buying attractive things for the house or for her body, she will go out and gorge herself on those things when the first freedom from debt gives her a buoyant feeling of happiness. The business of feminine apparel should always have been attended to by women, not men. This channel of activity is being directed to its right

Black satin, tulle and lace. There is a long tunic, which starts .with a pointed bodice built of the satin and swings free over a tight petticoat of black Chantilly lace. There is a shawl of black tulle, which stands well away from the shoulders and reaches to the elbows.

course. A million or more men on this continent, who are mixed up In women’s apparel, will have to give up their places to women, who have an instinctive knowledge of what other women want, and do not want. With training, which will give them a cool head, a smooth tongue and the ambition to rise, they will make admirable clerks, floorwalkers, heads of departments, buyers and shopkeepers. It is toward the apparel business that they are rapidly drifting. That is their desire, and all their preliminary training of the centuries has fitted them for this particular sector of industry. -Being in the business, they will spend more money on clothes, and they will influence the expenditures of other women. This is the situation which all seri-ous-minded women realize and which will probably dominate the country before peace is concluded. It is useless to tell women that they must not buy clothes. Thg reformers

mean well, but they are planting seed on barren soil. There must be some pleasure in this world, or we would all go mad with' the pain and anxiety of it and if you ask three million women to work for their living, you must give them the chance to deck themselves out in a bit of gay plumage and go out and- eat and laugh; otherwise, they will become useless for all service, patriotic or industrial. Demand for Evening Clothes. Let me tell you an odd thing about this development of women’s work, which has been brought about not only

This gown is of mauve and yellow-flg-ured taffeta cut as a paneled tunio over a skirt of mauve-colored plaited chiffon. The bodice is cut in the new indefinite fashion', With elbow sleeves showing ruffles of chiffon.

through their service. in paying positions, but in war relief w’ork. It is the growing demand for evening clothes by women who have heretofore never indulged in them. We are only following in the footsteps of human nature as it has asserted itself in France and England during the last eighteen months. Paris has shown an extraordinary Interest in this development, and the London thinkers and merchants have found it to be an engrossing by-product of the war. Evening dress has always been a thing for the luxurious. It has been indulged in by those whose lives were more or less given to leisure. Millions of W’omen have not considered it necessary to change their somber street clothes into low or half-low, fragile ones for the evening meal or evening gayeties. The street suit, with a few changes, has served during the waking hours. The shirtwaist and sport skirt have filled in the rest Of the service needed. But this condition no longer exists in Europe, and it has changed in America in the twinkling of an eye. Why? Women have more money ; they have more opportunities; industry, charity, war relief, hospital service and committee work have brought women from the depths of social obscurity Into hourly contact W’ith those who lead fashions and live leisurely lives. All of this has lifted the art of dress instead of degrading it. It enlivens life; it brightens the prospect of our sacrifices; it is a light to our endurance. There were days when a woman used her motor coat for any chance evening gayety. Today she is asking for one of the vast assemblage of evening capes that the shops and dressmakers offer to this new type of buyer. These new wraps have extraordinary charm. They are figured, whereas they used to be solid. They are lavishly trimmed with fur, regardless of summer weather. Chiffon, in great Dresden patterns, is used over silver or gold metallic cloth, or a lining of plain satin. Dark colors are chosen, as well as light The two new blues, "Liberty” and “Blue Devil,” are chosen in crepe or chiffon that has an immense pink, scarlet or white and yellow flower on it. There are other wraps made of Dolly Varden, flowered white chiffon which are lined with lace, with mauve or pink chiffon as an interlining. (Copyright, 1918, by the McClure Newspar per Syndicate.)

Wide Girdles.

Very effective and useful are wide girdles with sash bow and ends made of fancy flowering ribbon when worn on simple white dresses. The coloring in the ribbon of such girdles is chosen usually to match the colors ir the hat trimming. ‘

THALES FROM BIG CITIES

All Traffic Held Up by Mr. Drake and His Harem PHILADELPHIA.— It was not a motorcycle “cop” or a couple Of smashed autos that blocked the wheels of pleasure on a park boulevard this time,. No, it was only a big dawdling drake and four unladylike members of his

harem. Mr. Drake, the sultan of his special flock, with the four Mrs. Drakes, were crossing the boulevard, beaded for a lagoon just above the south entrance to the park, when a large motorbus, loaded with noonday shoppers, came rumbling along the highway. With furious and unrelenting quackings the sultan and his four wives took to the middle of the road and charged’ the big two-storied bus

like a band of howling Huns. The , “quack-quack” of the sultan and leader sounded more like back-back than anything else. “S-s-sic ’im! S-s-sic ’em !” hissed the four-ladies of the sultan’s harem, which was hot at all l?idylike, according to modern ethics or e about a minute there ‘ere two long lines of automoblles-one going, another coming, and the lines extended for a block each way, the sultani and his “legion of death” still bidding utter defiance to the huge tanklike thing: that continued to snort at them. w «hw.» Presently the feathered patrol assembled in the middle of the highway for a consultation, which lasted several minutes, despite the fact that the noonday shoppers and occupants of the autos had been re-enforced by several park laborers armed with rakes, shovels and miscellaneous cudgels. Evidently the legion of death advised that discretion is the better part of valor; anyway, the sultan stalked proudly from the highway, followed byhis feminine supporters, marching by “twos.” By the time they had reached, the lagoon the boulevard officers had begun to straighten out the bewilderingS “Pon me soul, this is more excitin’ than whin OI played ducks and drakesin Oireland,” remarked “Big Tim” Brady, as he searched for the bowl of his pipe that had been broken off in the battle. Some Tears and a Little Laughter on the Side ■MILWAUKEE. —The large square room at the Detention home where theHl tragedies of domestic life and childhood are settled is not the place where one would generally look for comedy. But Friday afternoon the goddess of laughter beamed upon the

children to care for and suggested that he ply his suit elsewhere. Quickly came the response that he was quite willing to call quits at the game of lovemaking but for the fact that he held the widow in fean. On the bench four little “tow heads” —“innocents,” the judge termed them —all under six years, regarded the proceedings gravely, while the older sister, Mary, sobbed convulsively. But a new life is to open for the children, as the court will take care or them until the father provides a new home and a housekeeper to care for them. And the housekeeper will not be a widow and mother of four. Another cause of mirth was Elmer, aged thirteen. Elmer is not a bad boy in the court’s terminology, but be Is possessed of a boyish mischievous trait His father is dead and his mother in the hospital, so Elmer had been living with a family beyond the limits of the city. Now, there was a neighbor, a physician, who, not being able to countenance boyish misbehavior, one day delivered a “thrashing” to his own protege and to Elmer. So Elmer ran away to the city, where the new-found freedom kept him out to the wee small hours. Elmer admitted to the eourt that he wanted to be a good boy, but the memory of the “thrashing” still rankled, for he had “felt uncomfortable for three days.” The boy loves baseball and when he learned that he could be captain of the home, team, his tears were dried and even the memory of the,, thrashing faded as he promised to be a model boy until his mother’s return to the home.

Loss of Her Bank Roll Peeved Fair Carolina ST. LOUIS—If Carolina Kfasnika had not forced her stockings to compete with the savings banks she would still have her sl-,790 and three of her friends, John Sifke and his wife, Helen, and John Humlckl, would not have

been locked up in default of SIO,OOO bail each, charged with reducing the financial swelling in the vicinity of her ankles. In view of her costly experience no one can blame Carolina with vowing that in the future she will keep nothing in her stockings but her legs. Every dollar Carolina has managed to save for years and years has gone into her stockings, and as she has been extremely thrifty her underpinning bulged .prominently at so many

points thaixffie slightest raise of her skirts convinced beholders she was suffering from a series of compound fractures. One thousand sevpn hundred and ninety dollars in bills of small denominations—as most of them are said to have been —would look like a van load of lettuce, so it isn t hard to imagine Carolina looking as if she was just naturally sinking into her shoes. She alleged that while attending a party recently in the apartment of Humicki she suddenly lost consciousness. When she revived some time later she was stricken with a severe chill below the knees and on investigating discovered her long green wrappings had vanished. Carolina swears she was asked th drink some one’s health in what she now has every reason to believe was “knock-out drops.” She reported the inatter to the police, with the Result that indictments fqr robbery in the first degree were found against her three friends.

Have Had All the Hard Luck Coming to Them CHICAGO. —Maud Newton wedded under the shadow of all the .ill omens she could think of. But she and Forrest Cherubini, a soldier, whose home is in Chicago, but who is now stationed with a machine gun corps at W aco,

to the office of Police Magistrate Theodore Koltz and “stood up.” th© “Why, right he .” Forrest didn’t complete the word, for the license was most palpably not “right here.” It wasn’t anywhere. The police scdured the town. They enlisted all of Hammond’s available chauffeurs, who combed the roads and bosky dells about Hammond way for over an hour, when, behold, a modest, official looking white paper fluttered in the breeze just to the leeward of a deep seagoing taxi, was grasped by Its skipper and turned over to the soldier swain. i They were spliced. Now both declare that nothing can happen to Forrest in France, for they have had all the hard luck coming to them. v k

place and more than once the judge’sgavel fell when the snickers became too audible. Matrimonial problems are many, but the most unique was that of the man who, not able to support in comfort his five motherless children, had the temerity to pay court to a widow with four children. He did not speak English. In Polish the Interpreter put at the court's suggestion that he had enough

Tex., are fast married. Forrest came up from Waco—he is twenty-nine—to meet his blushing Maud of thirtythree, who is essaying her second matrimonial venture. They motored to Crown Point, Ind. On the way down they had three htlowouts. But they got their license and then bravely sallied forth for Hammond, there to have-the knot knotted. On the way a black cat ran in front of their car, and they nearly ran over it. Arrived in Hammond they drove gayly -