Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 277, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 November 1918 — Page 2

A Government Pen

By AGNES L. PRATT

(Copyright, ISIS, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate;) From my position on a desk by the window I can look out over the greensward, just at present with beds of flaunting tulips and its great fountain, whose jeweled drops scintilate in the sunny air. The grass is like a square of emerald velvet, bordered along its sides with gray, chiseled granite; and the lacquered Iron seats scattered here and there, look inviting. I, myself, am old and battered, having been busy for months recording the emotions of the human souls that stream in at the revolving doors yonder, and out again, at the one near me. I can see for myself that the building wherein I have an abiding place is magnificent. I behold-the massive front of red brick, with costly trimmings of brown stone. Two immense electric lanterns throw floods of light, nightly, through the lace-like iron filagree that protects them, on the masses of humanity that beat with rythmic tread the wide sidewalk beneath the window. In my short life, for the existence of a pen in the service of this great government must of necessity be abbreviated by the democratic handling It receives, I have recorded more than one pitiful life story. It is not long ago the noble elms surrounding the green were bare and gaunt against a grayer sky, that a young men with hopeful eyes leaned over the desk where I was lying, idle for a wonder, and reaching out, grasped me tightly. As I flew, with impatient strokes over the white sheet, I found that I was writing thus:

“Dear Mabelle —I may write —may I not? —what I cannot say, for when I am with you my lips are ever silent. I followed you to the city, dear, I sought and found work —because —because—l wanted to be near you. And now I find that I want to be near you always, so much so that I am willing to brave your disapproval, which I have often seen growing in your clear, brown eyes —and ask you to marry me, dear — now, tomorrow —next week —any time, only that you will have it some time. “I am in an awful hurry, or I would say more. But I have an appointment at the quarry and all this means money —and perhaps you—to me. I have stopped here, in the post office, to pen these few lines, with a horribly poor pen, by the way.

"Please answer at once, and say yes —to—Jack.” I could forgive him the ill-mannered reflection on my character, when I felt the pace his heart .-was going communicate itself to me through his fingers. I hoped she would say yes as I rolled complacently over on my side, when he laid me down, and amused myself watching the gardener raking here and there among the stubbly brown grass that clothed the green. Dipped thousands of times in ink, as I was daily, the foregoing episode had nearly faded from my mind, when presently it was abruptly recalled. A young girl in a jaunty gray jacket, with an aureole of violets shadifig her sunny brown hair, came hastily to the desk, picked me up, looked at me with disapproving eyes, laid me down, tried another pen, and then -returned to her old lover, meaning myself. A straggling sunbeam kissed her shining eyes tfil they glinted an old-fashioned goldstonq and lovingly caressed, with ruddy fingers, the chestnutty ringlets of hair beneath the violet aureole. And, as L reposed snugly in the embrace of her gloveless fingers, she amoved me rapidly over the paper and inscribed, in graceful characters, an application for a money order. It was a prosaic culmination of my ardent and romantic desires, but I had only to wait a few moments when something followed. Without hesitation, though each stroke of my rusted tip was cutting through two quivering hearts, she indited the following: “Dear Jack —I know what you will say when you read this—you will say I am hard-hearted, that I do not care — that I. ought to leave all and cling to you, if I love you—but I cannot do what you wish me to. And Jack, dear, 1 do love you, too. But they, my parents, need me—need my help. I have left them up there, in the country home, while I go battling with the cruel world, so that I may- be of use to them, who did for me as long t as they were able. You know the whole pitiful story, Jack.

“A breath Just now from the newly springing grass on the green brought it back to me, and I have half-closed my eyes so the tears should not fall on my letter. Father blind, mother his only attendant, and feeble herself, with only my arm—Jack, my woman’s arm —between them and want You would say, if you were here and I was talking now instead of writing this, that your arm was stronger than mine and you could do for them and me. Hut think, there would be four of us then, and could you do for sou you a young man, with such prospects as you now have? Could you weight yourself with your own burdens and mine, too? No, it can never be. “Better for both of us that we should put such thoughts far away from our hearts. This is a cruel old world. Jack, and diamonds, not hearts, are trumps. I must not marry while they live, unless—Jack, tt is cr-el, but I

must sell myself for gold If I marry at all.” I was glad when she finished abruptly and laid me down where I could watch the streets pouring their seething masses of human beings, God knows where —I do not Back and forth ebbs this ceaseless tide, but from what diversified sources it has come, and to what it is going, I know not In a few days he came in again, and I wrote for him a few words, a pitifully brief message: lam going to the Philippines. Yflu have made it Impossible that I should live here, and I care not whether I live elsewhere or not A worthless life is best offered up on the altar of my country's service, and mine will be only another name to add to the list of poor devils already killed by pestilence or the bullet of a Tagalo.”

There was nothing else, only his name. It was quite time that I should be replaced with a new pen. I had outlived my usefulness —but I continued to be overlooked and many a day and night have I lain there quietly on the desk by the window and thought of that brave fellcflv, off there, fighting where no glory could ever be his, crawling through tropical undergrowth and searching out the treacherous foe —to be finally wasted and killed by insidious disease —denied even the honor, doubtful, perhaps, of dying by the hand of the enemy.

It was only the other day. I know the brilliant bloom had just burst from the beds in front of my window, and great crystal drops from the fountain were blown by the madcap breezes of the spring when iny soldier came in and stood neat me. He had returned, and there was a happy light in his eye, a flush beneath the rich bronze tinting of his cheek. Evidently his enlistment and service had done him no harm.

He gave one quick glance across the rainbow brightness that crossed and recrossed the velvet greenness of the turf outside, grasping me, his old friend, he wrote hastily: “Dear Mabelle —I have come home for good. My time is up, and I have great news for you, for while out there, fighting natives and sickness, and dreaming of you—my fortune here was being made. Something I had done in the old life —journalism —it seems attracted the attention of the great ones in power, where formerly I was almost an unknown quantity. So that I returned to find the struggle ended and a sure place waiting for me, at a salary that seems«marvelous, almost. At least It will suffice for all of us, and your dear ones shall never know want while I live. I have written this to your old address and am not quite sure where I 'shall find you. A line will bring me to your side; and dear —let it be soon, please.” My heart sang with his for joy and I was glad that it was spring, glad the grass was soft and green, the flowers bright and the birds singing. For somewhere, up in the branches of the great elms, some birds were riotously chanting a greeting to all things new and beautiful. -- The next day—yes, it was only the next day—she came again, but how changed ! More beautiful, if anything, but something subtle had departed from her personality and had been replaced by another something that I could not define, but only feel. And she, too, lifted me and presently she wrote:

“Dear Jack —Dearer now, because Impossible by my own wickedness. Your letter came to me last night, after following me about all day. I am glad you have come back and that you were not killed out there, as I was afraid you would be. I have watched the papers and my heart has ached; but Jack, dearest Jack, I have gone and spoiled all the beautiful happiness that life had in store for me—on the eve of its appearance. Last month I married—married for the gold I have needed so much —and for them —a man I did not love, a man who is old enough to be my father —and who —is not like you, Jack. And in less than two weeks, only two weeks ago—and it seems a lifetime to me—they were both gone—gone, Jack, to where they could never want what I had sold my soul and your love for. Mother went suddenly. Father just failed and theft —he was gone. ‘They held out their hands to me,’ he said to me, one day—and he went to them. I have forged my chains, beautiful fetters they are, of solid gold and jewelled—but they burn into my flesh like fire, and they bind till, from very agony, I must groan. Pity me. Jack. If you are unhappy what must I be? Oh. wait for me—wait for me— Jack, perhaps —he is older than l—and perhaps some time —Forgive me. Jack, and forget me.—Mabelle.” I turned and looked out across th* velvet green. Through its cool treeshaded walls the throngs still surged, each heart knowing its own burden, carrying it silently and ctfrsing or praying as was its nature. The fountain sparkled in the sunlight, the flowers held their cups to catch its spray, great trees bent their heads as the fleecy clouds rolled above them; and only the song of the birds was wholly happy.

Her Specific Instructions.

The sex that Robert W. Chambers made famous is the same that delivers telephone messages to spouses some thing like: “A man called you up today—l think his name was smith or Jones; no, it wasn’t them —something like that, anyway; no, he didn’t leave any message; he said you were to call him up at —now when did he say? Well, I forgot just when, but he<4gft his number; wait a minute, I put it down on a piece of paper—just wait till I get it; Oh, dear, I remember I Mislaid it somewhere now; well, anyway, he said you were to call him up.” —Chicago Evening Post.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER, IND.

Here is the last word in the tailored blouse and separate skirt for utility wear and it is a very creditable last word. It isn’t likely that anything better will be developed for the work-a-day outfitting of the average busy woman of today, although we may have equally good designs in both blouses and skirts for the same sort of wear. Neatness is the keynote In this kind of outfitting and it is the most potent charm of summer dressing.

The blouse is a strictly “shirtwaist” model, made of white wash-satin which proves to be very practical and desirable. It is one of the few designs with a high neck and buttons straight up the front, and collar with small white pearl buttons. The cuffs button over with a single button and the waiss will look well developed in wash silk, percale and other substantial weaves in cotton. The skirt is simply two lengths of 54-lnch wool material cut to fit about the hips and without plaits. The wide.

Thera are not many things that afford a woman more real satisfaction than to know that she is wearing a becoming hat, and her chances of acquiring such a valuable asset were never better than they are now. The shapes brought out this season are graceful and varied. There are almost no freakish hats, and there is a wide range of styles and considerable variation in size—in fact a hat for all types of faces. It is a good idea to give plenty of time to the selection of the right shape and to remember that trimming sometimes plays tricks upon the eyealtering the proportions of the shape apparently. The first essential of becomingness tn a hat shape lies In Its proper fit. It Is because the head size Is too large or too small that many a pretty hat falls'short of being a success on the head of Its owner. When the head size is wrong all the lines are wrong; the crown too large or too small and the brim, therefore not In the right position. When this matter of first importance is taken care of the other details of color, and trimmings and style are not hard to manage. Three hats shown here are irreproachable in style and quality of material and workmanship. The hat at the left is a goods semidress model of sand-colored crepe georgette, having Its upper brim of satin-straw braid In the same color. There Is ah odd drape made braid that extends across the front and It makes a fine background for the short and beautifully

Smart, Cool and Neat

To Insure Becoming Hats

shaped girdle is pointed at the end where it- buttons ovfer a large bone button at the left of the front. Snap fasteners above and below the button hold the belt in a neat adjustment to the figure. This girdle is the most popular that has appeared this season. The skirt is correct in length and width for a walking’ skirt, which should be in the neighborhood of two .yards wide to Insure freedom in walking, and reach an inch below the shoe tops for good style. In cutting a two-piece plain skirt from wide material there is enough cut away to account for the girdle and pockets as ample and original as those that are shown on the model pictured. Twice the depth of the pocket is needed for making it, one-half of this length cut into two straps that fold upon the pocket and fasten down with bone buttons like that on the girdle, but smaller. The straps and pockets are lined with silk of the color of the crossbar in the material. In this skirt a deep tan ground is crossed with bars of flhg blue.

marked eagle quill that is posed against it The hat at the right is also of crepe georgette. It is a wide-brimmed model; one of those “halo” brims that are becoming a fixture in the millinery styles of midsummer. It Is beautifully made with a balmasque finish about the edge of the brim. The trim consists of a collar, covered with narrow plaited ribbon, and small, conventional flowers of braid with stems. A hat very similar to this is covered with georgette tucked In the fashionable narrow cross tucks and finished with crepe flowers applied flat to the crown. They are hand made of the same crepe as the hat. These widebrimmed, transparent or semitransparent hats, will make lovely headwear for the June bridesmaid and the June bride. A hat of fine black mllan faced with sand colored crepe finishes the group. It is trimmed with clusters of lacquered leaves, at each side of the front, in a bright shade of light blue. Hats are not easy to make this season. They require the work of a professional milliner. *

Plaid Gingham Collars.

Plaid gingham collars are worn on the new serge and crepe frocks. Some are tied about the necjt, handkerchief fashinn ' ’ * * ' '. - ... .... ~ '• ,

Prussianism Cannot Be Tolerated in a World Devoted to Liberty

meant to have a footing in South America and had prepared pians threaten this very country of ours. In 1918 Austria planned to conquer Serbia and so informed Italy, then her ally. , The spirit which brought about this war was expressed by Nietzsche, a German who wrote years before the war started, the following: “You shall love peace as a means to prepare for new war. You say that a good cause may hallow even war, but I say to you that it is a good war which hallows every cause.” And the newspaper Vorwaerts before the war started declared. Camarilla of war lords is working with absolute, unscrupulous means Io carry out their fearful designs to precipitate a world war. Americans of German blood know that it was not the old Germany--of which we are proud—that brought about war, but the German system. The world has been hurt within these past three years as it was never hurt before. In the gloomy and accusing procession of infinite sorrow and pain which was started on that thrice accursed day of July, 1914, the hurt inflicted on Americans of German descent takes its tragically rightful place. The iron has entered our souls. We have been wantonly robbed of invaluable possessions which have come down to us through the centuries; we have been rendered ashamed of that in which we took pride; we have been inade the enemies of those of our own blood;, our very names carry the sound of a challenge to the world. Surely we have all too valid a title to rank amongst those mostrbitterly aggrieved by Prussianism, and to align ourselves in the very forefront of those who in word and deed are fighting to rid the world forevei of that malignant growth.

Stop Playing Germany’s War Game by Continually Talking of Peace

It is time that the United States stopped playing Germany’s game. Germany, sure of her ability to keep her own peoples solid for war, • folks peace. We, stopping dur own efforts' to listen and to answer, cripple and confuse both ourselves and our allies. It is tht old, old game, of the two burglars in the jewelry shop. One engages the proprietor in conversation while the other robs the safe. While Hertling gives vent to as choice a lot of mendacious hot air, as the world has ever heard, Hindenburg tramples upon prostrate Russia and adds another corpse to his rapidly accumulating collection. And we, soft-hearted, soft-headed, kindly-souled, peace-loving,, peaceinured people that we are, gabble on while murder is committed before our very eyes. o We had better begin to realize that this thing we have embarked in is not a joint debate but a war. Every day that we spend in conversation and that Germany spends in war, is a two days’ loss to us and a two days’ gain for them. Time is the essence of victory for Germany as well as for ourselves. We have pot now enough ships both to supply our troops in France and to handle other necessary shipping as well. Every day that we delay in bringing every effort that we as a nation possess-to the successful prosecution of the war, means a day gained for the development of the new resources that she has captured by force of arms. How much longer do we intend to stand in the front door talking to the well-dressed confidence man while his beetle-browed pal commits murder in the back room ? We have already bought a good half dozen German gold bricks. How many more must we purchase before we think we’ve got enough?

Great Need of Fearless Men to Carry Our Flag to Foreign Ports

By HENRY HOWARD,

The sea’s call to our country’s youth today is clear and strong. At no other period in our national life has need been greater than now for fearless men to-carry our flag through stress of war and storm to foreign ports. The American merchant mariner of today takes rank in the greatest of all wars—the liberty and force—beside the honored brothers of tHearmy and the navy, an exemplar of the strength and plenty of this free and chivalrous new world. In his hands we trust our trade; but more than this, we trust our honor, too. Neither shall perish so long aauour mariners sail the seas. Their calling is a cherished legacy from God-fearing forefathers, who in their day sailed hard and far on errands of peaceful commerce, while ever ready to fight for freedom. The descendants of such men do not fail in their duty when the sea calls them in this time of war. The ways of the sailor may have been lost to them in generations of peaceful land pursuits; but the salt is in their blood, and with steady purpose they say to the sea, “Take me and teach me what you would have me do.” This response, from shore to shore of a mighty land, makes possible the new, great things America is doing on the sea to end the war. On a thousand new ships now taking shape upon our shores American merchant sailors by tens of thousands will go forth without fear. Veterans in sea service will have trained the new comers to the fleets so w ill be wrought a strong, close-knit, all-American personnel for our reborn merchant ~ A dollar is Worth only 75 cents in Denmark, but you probably buy just as much butter with it as you can here at home. - .

By OTTO H. KAHN,

I was born in Germany; I served in the German army. I was closely connected with German business interests until the outbreak of this war. I know, Germany and I know the real causes of this war. Thirty years ago —hlmost to the day—Germany begah laying her plans for world conquest. The true German saw this war cqming and fought against it, but there was no chance against the system. . I know of my personal knowledge that the stage was set for it about sevenjears ago, in connection with the Agadir episode. I know that the pan-Gqrmans in 1911

By PORTER EMERSON BROWNE

Director of Recnrithf Service, U.S. Shipptag Board

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