Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 261, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 November 1918 — Page 3

In Tidy Lane

By DOROTHY DOUGLAS

(Copyright, 1913, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) “I like It alreadyl” exclaimed Alice,as her eager eyes grasped the vision of Tidy lane with its row of small cottages neatly lining the street “Isn’t it good to get a sniff of country air?” “Gloriousl We both need a change from city dust. I get so sick of the office every day and a cooped-in flat every night I hope the cottage is possible—it will be so disappointing after coining way out here in Long Island.” Helen Randolf absorbed deeply the freshness of the avenue of shady trees. She was tired, frightfully tired of the strain of her editorial duties on one of the big magazines. “Yes, I hope so, but the cottage Itself doesn’t amount to much. I can make anything in the way of a shack comfortable for us two so long as there are a few walls and a roof.” Both girls were eagerly scanning the small houses in search of No. 9. “Number nine must be the black sheep that has wandered from the fold,” laughed Alice. “The tidiest part oL Tidy lane doesn’t seem to have any number 'nine. Oh 1 could that darling one over there possibly be it?” The advertisement for the small cottage in Tidy lane had read “Secluded but not isolated.” Number nine certainly was isolated. It had rambled off the other houses in the lane and found for itself a seclusion that made the hearts of the two tired city girls jump with sheer joy. Number nine lay in the heart of a small grove of pine trees and had settled itself down there for all the world like a bit of the landscape that had been created, not built. “It’s too good to be true,” Helen said as they made their way back to the city to pack up and take theflrst train they could manage back toTJdy lane. “I love the way it’s gone 6ff by Itself and nestled in those smelly, healthy pine trees.” ■ “And I shall have a few chickens in that little coop, and you will come home tired every evening from the office and I will be waiting for you with good things to eat.” Alice was delighted to the extent of a child over a big blue-eyed doll. “I hope you won’t be lonesome all day, dear. You know it will be a change for you from seeing so many people in the city.” “I couldn’t be lonesome if I tried in that cute little cottage and Tidy lane villagers to study.” So it was that the two fast friends found themselves happily ensconced in number nine out in sunny, fragrant Long Island.

Dally Helen Randolf took the train to the dty and the editorial chair she was filling while the editor was away fighting for Uhcle Sam. And each day Alice Winter fitted more joyfully Into the small cottage with Its quaint surroundings. The furnishings had been a bit cold, but they were so no longer. The garden had been a trifle lacking in color, but a few geraniums and sweet peas cheered it all up. The owner of the small cottage had gone with the American expeditionary force to France. that he could not object ttTtKe few shrubs with which she had ornamented the garden. “I hope he will come back to his cozy nest,” she said by way of a little praver for the soldier’s safety. “You musn’t hurt your back digging so much,” admonished Helen often when some new shrub greeted her upon her return from the city. “You are not accustomed to that kind of work.” “My digging,” she cried excitedly the next evening when her pal returned, “has unearthed a mystery. Look here!” She held up a substantial tin box. “I started to put tn that hydrangea this afternoon and was probing round for a soft spot to dig in and finding one I came upon this box.” ’ “Burled treasure? I suppose It Is some child’s pirate box. We used to bury.them as children.” Nevertheless the girls were both Interested. “Child nothingl” exclaimed Alice. “It’s full to the gaff of manuscripts. Short stories. And look at the note that was on top I” Helen todk the quite newly typed note and read Its contents. “Farewell to fame. Mother raised her boy to be a soldier—not a genius.” The note was signed “Philip Cheyne" and contained no more information. The many rejection slips from all the New York magazines, however, told all the tale that was necessary. “Poor kid," laughed Helen, her editorial brain busy with the contents of the stories. She'was skimming them swiftly with the trained mind of. a reader. “Goosey,” she said lovingly to Alice, “I suppose you hadn’t even looked tot these stories.” “I wouldn’t know a good story from a bad one if I got your whole big salary for it,” laughed Alice. “Are they all so bad as that?” she inquired sadly gazing tot the number of rejection slips. " “They're pretty bad,” commented Helen, “except the plots, and they are rather unusual. But Philip Cheyne knows no more about the feminine nature than you do about stories. His women are appalling. They never lived; and- never could live. Her voice trailed off in the maize of critical reading that

absorbed her. “You know,” she said finally when Alice called her into, the small, flowery, dining room and sat her down at the dainty table. “I could make a lot of those stories into strong fiction by a few touches. The magazine is sadly in need of new brains just now. I’ve a mind to whip them in shape and bring out Philip Cheyne as a writer." “Oh, Helen! Wouldn’t that be great? I just wish I weren’t so stupid and could help you." “You can help by being just your sweet, lovable feminine little self. I can put you right into those stories. You are the type that’s needed here. So • you see, dearie, you will be the means of many big checks going into that tin box for Philip Cheyne when he returns from the war.” ' A lltt|e silence fell on the two enthusiastic girls. Each felt the sinister chill of those three words, “when he returns.” 7 A month or two passed happily and healthily by. Helen Randolf took a tremendous amount of pleasure in whipping the strangely acquired stories of Philip Cheyne into shape and as each was finished giving it a place on the pages of the big successful magazine. They turned out even better than she had anticipated. She was more than proud of her new writer and prominence was given them. The illustrations were delightful. The checks paid for those stories were so big that one would have paid the rent of No. 9 Tidy lane for some six months. Instead of paying for anything each check was placed carefully in the tin box that Alice had dug up while planting the hydrangeas. The girls had been in the wonderful straying cottage of Tidy lane some seven months and five of Philip Cheyne’s stories had been published. - Then, by telegram, came the all-too-sudden news that Cheyne had been brought home, a wounded soldier, to recuperate in his Long Island cottage. Helen and Alice were grateful that he had at least returned alive. They could not help a regret or two at leaving the little village to which they had both become attached. A tiny , cottage that had not strayed from the fold but remained in the tidy row was happily vacant. . “Do you think we could furnish it —and when Arthur and I are married,” suggested Helen, “we coqld keep it for a week-end cottage?” “Great!” agreed Alice, “I just hate to leave Tidy lane and go back to the stuffy city.” « So together they refreshed No. 9 with sweet-smelling flowers, left everything attractive for the % home coming /of its Soldier owner . and moved to No. 7. “I wish we could peek through the window and watch him open that box,” pined Alice, as with four large checks topping it they closed the box and left, it conspicuously on the center table. Beside it were the four magazines open to display the stories to Philip Chlyne.

“Lordy, Lordy!” exclaimed that .young man when, battered as to body but cheery as to spirits, he arrived in No. 9, “some good fairies have been fluttering about my dump.” He hadn’t known just how good it would be to get back home. In his heart he longed for the one being that makes a home home, and knew that he was going on a still hunt for that one person. He had been single long enough and now that he had been humanized by the war and its tragedies he realized the need of companionship. He was so amazed at the seeming miracle of his stories that he sat down and read every word of them before an hour had passed. He grinned at the sight of his own name In print and was delighted* beyond belief. The checks, too. were iinmensely gratifying, but somehow the queerness of fate held him in silent thought. Of course he was determined to unearth the good fairy just as his tin box had been unearthed. It would not be difficult, for he had the editor of the magazine to" consult. Cheyne also knew that he was going to be able now to product more and better stories. Many big things had come to him out there in No Man’s Land. Thus it was that he stopped one evening at 7 Tidy lane, and having stopped lingered. . * Helen always said she saw the way the wind blew that very first day, and not long afterward Alice moved into the little cottage that had straggled from the fold and became its mistress and Helen and Arthur were married the week-ending in No. 7.

Myths Hard to Down.

Many details of the pig myths of Ireland, Scotland and Wales reveal the fact that the ancient Stories of the dragon have been preserved with remarkable completeness, even though they have been kept alive by verbal currency for a vast number of years. The efficacy of a one-eyed man as a plg-sltoyer in Ireland is a case in point. Ip the earliest version of the dragon myth the monster is killed by the “Eye of Re”—4. e., the moon or sun. The Greeks interpreted this literally and created a being with a destructive eye, and In Ireland this belief is still potent to influence the conduct of our contemporaries. Ever since the time when the human spirit first began to seek for an elixir of life these myths have been circulating among mankind. In the visions of the small children of Roscommon we are catching glimpses of the thoughts of people who lived long before the Pyramids of Egypt were dreamed of. This helps us also to understand how profoundly our actions and beliefs are influenced by the remote history bf mankind.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER, IND.

Fall Frocks at Home—Abroad

New York.—The great • offensive in fashions, which the world has been awaiting with anxious uncertainty, did not take place. . The silhouette remains practically the same for autumn as it has been for two years. There is enough in the fashions, however, to keep the public guessing and put it on the defensive. Things are not exactly as they were, although the fundamentals remain the same. The Interesting development of the output of apparel for' autumn is the fact that America makes a more definite change than does Paris. She advocates the frock with the insteplength skirt. She even lowers the hem of her tailored suits for the street.

Paris does nothing of the kind. She takes advantage of the fact that the government demands less usage of wool in clothes and cuts her skirts to such a height that it is improbable an American woman would wear them, unless she is in uniform, driving an automobile or doing other active work. France, as was said before, put out these short skirts with the plea that they were in co-operatidn with the government and that they were suggested by the short skirts worn by American women in the war service abroad; but those were uniforms that the American women wore. The French mind may not have grasped that we’re not all in uniform over here and that those who do wear the regulation service costume have many other clothes in their wardrobe to which they resort as soon as their war service hours are over. Medievalism Still Rampant We have worn atrociously short skirts, and even in the most polite circles, where one expected conservation, there have been unduly scant clothes worn on the plea that they were comfortable. One cared very little about it when the wearers were flappers, as the English put it, but when they were women with gray hair whose figures had matronly curves and whose faces the lines that grandmothers often get, these ten and twelve-inch skirts were more than grotesque; they were in bad taste. I The first delightful conviction that comes to the mind of the woman looking for autumn clothes this month is the unchanged silhouette. She will let the long and the short skirt problem lie fallow for a while, although in doing this, she will make a mistake, for, if.the entire world wears its skirts leiig by Thanksgiving the women who sit in outer darkness will wail and gnash their teeth. They can put a hem on any skirt, it is true, and this may be a compromise between an old and a new fashion which will of necessity be adopted over the land. It is, however, the continuance of the straight line that pleases women. Here

A PWrrot top coat of beige-colored velours which has the revived barrel outline. It fa trimmed with wide bands of Yukon seal and fastened with Immense buttons of the fur.

and there it is broken into bits by clever designers who wish to insist upon what is called the tonneau silhouette or the draped skirt, but these aredetails. The fact of main importance is that even with the tonneau skirt or one arranged according to the tight, pullback drapery of more than three decades ago, the waistline is big, the ankle line Is slhn, and the pencil outline from head to heels remains. It js these draped skirts which the A met cans pU' out in June afid wore

in August that are still very much the thing. They have no bustle effect, and their narrowness at the hem is comfortably obviated by an inset, fanshaped plaiting at the back which gives the feet entire freedom of movement. Yet, considering these new fashions and realizing that they are possible winners in the race for a settled fashion by Thanksgiving, the absorbing fact remains that the medieval gown is rampant • The long chemise tunic is not as smart as the chemise frock. In truth.

An afternoon frock of black and gray .satin, In which the bodice and undent skirt are of black and the overskirt is In strips of gray and black caught up over the girdle at one side. It la trimmed with Russian squirrel.

there are many houses that will not handle the long tunic at all, and yet they lay great stress upon the long coat, which has exactly the same effect. The short tunic, however, with its medieval waistline, if one may call so slight an Indentation of the surface by the name of waistline, is exceedingly good. It Is shown on a great majority of American and French models. This tunic might be called the foundation Stone of autumn costumery, for its lines are used for a jacket to a plaid skiyt, a cuirass blouse to be worn with or without a coat, and a fur jacket to be worn with separate skirts or onepiece frocks. It hangs limply down the figure to a circular line halfway between knees and hips. Its hem is irregular, as all hems are, even on many of the new sleeves. But this Is* true of it, and it is a significant fact, that no matter how it is made, or of what material, it carries, with it an exceedingly narrow skirt. We have never worn just such a skirt as we will wear this autumn, and it Is at Its best under this short, mediaeval tunic. Certain Debatable Fashions.

. if a woman bases her autumn pupchasing on these fundamental facts of costumery, she may not go far Wrong, for by this time, she knows what the good materials are, as well as the proper combinations of peltry and various fabrics; but she may not be aware of the fatal facility that certain fashions* have shown for overpopularity. She may want to avoid them for that reason, or she may want to adopt them. It all depends upon het viewpoint and attitude of mind toward popularity as it is expressed in any form. * There are few shop windows that do not display , one or both, and the price ranges from $lO to SIOO for the garment When fringe first came into being, it was heralded by all of us as' a new touch, and a good one; but those who have been compelled to observe the new incoming fashions day after day and hour after hour, have found t-ieit eyes closing involuntarily at the sight of a gown with fringe.

The same is true of the narrow, ac-cordion-plaited skirt It is strange that this fashion did not burst into full bloom when it was advanced last February. A New York designer put out many suits with this skirt which clung to the figure as though we were back in the days of Thais of Alexandria. The truth is that accordion-plaited, transparent skirts pre shown without k lining, and a woman must work out her own salvation if she is to wear one. And the best part of it M that they are exceedingly graceful when properly arranged over a thin, supply tight lining of satin. • •• However, if you wish to be out of the procession of popularity, pass them by. . • - (Copyright, ISM, by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)

ALL SORTS OF AFFLUENCE

Great Mistake to Get the Idea That - Wealth Consists Only In Posseesion of Money.

Riches and money have been commonly but mistakenly synonyms. A mother with a group of children may consider these her jewels, albeit by a bank examiner’s rating she would bfe ' poorer than Job’s turkey. A man with houses and lands may be destitute in human affections eddying round his chair and table, and so in life’s paramount values the balancing of the account shows a deficit, .though under the dollar sign he may be able to fig-, ure a fortune. Each soul selects the sort of affluence it prefers, observes a writer in the Philadelphia Ledger. You may choose that you will gain the whole world, no matter what becomes of the spirit Years after it will be a sad thing to see the gross materialist'you have become. You may be sated with the pleasures of the senses, but you have missed the best things life has to offer. You may be the chief target for the income tax collector, but the children of the region do not love you. The man or woman is rich who has acquired sound, seasoned, lasting friendships, true through thick or thin. Any other sort of prosperity is much affected by fair weather or foul. When mere money has taken wing out of the window the attaches of the heydey of sunny prosperity abruptly decamp, even as rats flee from a sinking vessel. But the assets of character that link those we love to us enduringly, with the grappling hooks of steel, are proof against corrosion or burglary and will stand any strain that is put on them. Who dares to call me poor if I can keep the unbroken circle, on earth or inHeaven, that love has once established? What a fallacy to define riches as anything sensual! For all that is of the flesh fleshy and of the earth earthy must one day perish like weeds that are slain by the reaper In the hot sun. Only love and truth and beauty and Jhelr divine fellowships are immortal, and only these are worth the husbandry of the undying 4oul. He who has his fortune in these commodities is entitled to be called rich. Time and change and adversity have no power upon them. They are the only things a man can take with him when he goes. In the process of acquiring them they become part of him inseparably. He who has them “wears his commendation in his face,” for it may be read as he passes that his converse is with the higher and finer things, and his daily walk is on the plane where the noblest meet and greet familiarly.

His Civilian Record.

May I suggest to the government that every man be treated according to his civilian merits? These are democratic days. We should not say to discharged men: “Were you an officer?” or “Were you a private?” We should say: “Now you have finished With war, we must deal with you on a civilian basis. What were you before you joined up? What do you think you are best suited for? With you time is precious, just as it is with us. We want to help you to’ earn a living in the way that you can earn it, best” Treat discharged men according to their abilities, and not according to the positions they have, held in the services. That is the real solution of the problem—the key to the satisfactory settlement of the difficulty of the discharged. Square pegs in round holes are a nuisance everywhere, as we in the army know only too well. Let us go forward.'—London Daily News.

Democracy.

“Well,” said the captain of artillery as he stood watching three Yanks playing baseball la the Tuileries gardens in Paris, “I guess that if we came Over here to make the world safe for democracy, we have finished the job and can go home. “Look”—pointing to the three ball players. “One of those men is an American soldier, one is a Y. M. C. A. secretary, and one is a darky from an American stevedore regiment. The white soldier’s father was killed while fighting to free the slaves, the ‘Y’ man’s father was a slave owner and the darky’s grandfather was a slave. They are playing ball in the grounds that were once the private grounds of, an emperor. If that isn’t democracy to the nth power, what do you call it?”— From a Bed Cross Scrap Book.

New Kind of Candy.

If someone offered you a box of chocolate bonbons which were so delicious that you apologized for the number you ate, and then someone told you that the chief ingredients of their interior was p-o-t-a-t-o-e-s, wouldn’t it' surprise you? Food Administrator Peden of Texas, who had this experience, was more than surprised. The filling of the bonbons was suggestive of coconut and very delicate to the taste. Potato candy is a logical follow-up to tapioca flour bread, whale steak, mesquite sirup and other interesting food revelations brought about as a result of the war.—Dallas (Texas) News.

He’s a Thrifty Fighter, Too.

Proof that the American soldier is • not forgetful of his financial obligations toward the “folks at home” is found in the report of the KnightW'of Columbus* general secretary at an i embarkation camp that during two ! days he sent express company money orders aggregating $12,000 to soldiers* relatives, this sum having been intrusted tc him by American fighting men.

MADERECORD TIME

. *. How Two College Youths “Took In” Washington. ’ What Might Be Called a Personally Conducted Tour, With “Thoroughbreds” Doing the Conducting —Didn’t Even. See Potomac. Two-college youths who spent a few days some weeks ago in. Washington en route to their homes in this dty thought that as the weather was so delightful, and as they were both expert horsemen, they would enjoy a tour of the parks and the surrounding country, of which they had heard so much. They engaged what they supposed were two thoroughbred riding horses, and arrayed in swagger togs, they started out for their observation .tour. / They noticed that both steeds had a furtive look in their eyes that seemed to be at variance with what the liveryman had said about them, and the sight of the youths in their riding clothes seemed to arouse suspicion, for horsey No. 1 edged away as far as he could from the aspiring young collegian, who was going to make a record as a fine horseman, while horsey No. 2 looked so low in his mind that he held his head way down as far as the halter would let him and looked the picture of shame. The liveryman had declared that these two selfsame animals had officiated many times at the finest mounts in Washington, but the war spirit must have gotten into their veins, for the instant their riders swung into their saddles both steeds made a mad dash up Pennsylvania avenue, and so rapjd wak their gait that some people thought war had been declared or a second edition of Paul Reveres had arisen to warn the surrounding towns that the enemy was in sight. The more theifc riders tried to calm them down into anything like a respectable gait the more extra speed did those wretched animals develop. One of the riders, a little in advance of his companion, yelled: “I don’t know where this horse is going, but I’m with him, I tell you that,” at which sign of co-operation horsey commenced to go around in a circle and followed that up by a route that might be described as south by southeast. In the meantime the other man was having troubles of his own; his noble beast, apparently a great lover of nature, seemed bent on treading a flowery pathway by heading for all the hyacinth beds in the park. "Onaway, Awake, Beloved,” was their battlecry. Over bridges • and along dusty highways streaked these two modern John Gllpins, one of whoih had long since lost his cap and his hair, but their fighting blood was up and they hung on with more skill than grace. '

One found breath enough to yell: “There’s the Potomac river,” to which the other answered, ‘Td like to look at it, but Tm too busy.” After covering miles of broad highway and dashing through toll gateswithout even so much as “excuse me* these unrighteous animals commenced to show signs of settling down and their riders managed to haft them In front of a rural tavern. They dismounted, feeling as if they had been run over by a steam roller. Horsey No. 1 seemed proud of his work, but horsey No. 2 had evidently been to congress and kept his own counscl* What those two collegians said to the liveryman when they got back could not be repeated in these columns. All they know about the scenery around Washington they have gleaned from an illustrated booklet— Buffalo Courier.

Canadian Appreciation.

And what names were ever better earned than those thus rendered to Uncle Sam? (On July 4 last) They •would be strange allies whose heart* would not be wanned by such loyalty and sleepless energy as the United States has shown -for the cause of the entente from the moment It declared war on Germany, No friend in need could make more strenuous and sustained efforts to hasten to lend a hand than the United States has kept up from the beginning of its belligerency. Difficulties that seemed insurmountable to anything but American resourcefulness have been overcome, and from this time forth the United States wIU have to be reckoned with as a heavyweight in the war.—Toronto Mail and Empire.

Year’s Sugar Crop.

The area of the sugar-cane crop of 1918 in the United States is estimated by the bureau of crop estimates to be 533,880 acres, or 12 per cent above the acreage of 1909, as reported by the census. The estimate is for ribbon cane only, and hence sorghum Is excluded. Ninety per cent of the total rlbbon-cane area is. Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia. Of this total area about 53 per eent Is intended tor sugar, while the remainder, 47 per cent, is mostly intended for sirup and for planting part of the next year’s crop , , ;

New Motor

An “air motor" that recompresses air in the tank by means of the compressed air on its way to the cylinders of the motor, thus requiring only one filling of the air tank, is an invention claimed by J. W. Justus and Fred Rudolph, mechanical engineers of Attanta.