Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 January 1919 — Page 2

Up Country in South Africa.

ROOIDORP 18 very like every other South African uivcbuntry town, it stands lonely 00 the veld/ Probably some SO years ago the site was occupied only, by a large farmstead which increased its size and importance with the rise —of trpn prattonroF the Mtirats family. Some one hit on the spot as ■ a good stand for a native store, the ; predicant was given a piecWrt land for a church which could he the center of 7 religious life for a district covering many miles, says the Christian Sci- j ence Monitor. Twenty years ago the S. A. R.; (South African Government Railways) ran a line through on its way to tap . a more important center up a “Halt,” which by this time has grown Into a little wood and iron station where the traveler bound for Rooidorp finds himself at six in the morning, after having journeyed all through the night Quite early the preceding evening he leaves the mountains and for hours traverses the open veld, we high Karee—flat, dreary and covered with scrub and cactus, with rarely any sign of habitation. The traveler will find the usual rural collection of carts and conveyances of all types standing at the station outspan, from the übiquitous Ford to the old-world ox wagon with its 14 steers, beside which slept its native driver with his sjambok (whip) of rhinoceros hide. He had most probably been there for some hours, for it is not easy to time an arrival of such a team. The train may be two hours late, but no one appears to care in this land where time seems to be so cheap. • Houses AH Bungalows. In these towns practically all the ■ houses, are of the bungalow type and land is cheap, pad) house has a large garden, sometimes large enough to be called—a—farm rim most xmintrieak. The Climate has called for two important modifications —the lofty roof and the broad stoep?' As we- wander round the town we quickly observe the importatit part this’ wide veranda plays in the everyday life of the inhabitants. It is the reception room for casual callers. “Oom Jan” can keep an interested eye on the doings of his neighbors and exchange the news of thedayyvitfi all and sundry who have driven in from the outlying farms. The town’s central outspan, which generally speaking, ‘corresponds to the market squares of towns elsewhere, is particularly interesting at ngcht’ maal. This quarterly communion service justifies what is often a wearisome journey. The trek wagon is hauled out.

from 14 to 16 oxen are inspanned, and the whole faqyly clambers-up and makes itself comfortable under a tent. Full provisions are taken and generally a gift in kind for the predicant. j As one wanders round the outspan he will see one of the most heterogeneous collections of humahlty and its trappings. In the far corner is a typical group, a wagon drawn up, the f oxen away grazing, the Zulu servants - tending (he fire, preparing a weal or doing to perfection what a Kaffir can ’ do almost from birth —nothing —he does it more thoroughly than anyone else on the -face of the earth. He finds- complete contentment in sunbasking. Sitting under the tent on the wagon is the major portion of the fttmily. while underneath are the youngsters. Drawn up in lines are other miscellaneous vehicles. The whole scene, were the town,buildings removed, would recall scenes from the time of the voortrekers. •

Four Important Buildings. * There are four buildings of importance in.all typical dorps: First is the politic kantoor (police depot) which is the-center for a large area. The mpmhor* of this mounted force have not only the supervision of a very scattered body of whites, but also the oversight of a large native population. It gays much for the fair way In which the natives are handled and for their naturally peaceable natures, that the offenses to be dealt with art usually of a trivial character. \ Next in importance among the buildings Is the church; plain almost j‘ - - '■ • ■ ■■

Bullock Cart of South Africa.

to ugly severity but generally one of the most substantial buildings. Then comes the post office, with its bi-lin-gual notices; for, since the Boer war ami the settlement of the Union, the Dutch and English languages are now given an equal position even in districts which -are essentially English. Finally, there is the town hall. Every dorp aspires to a town hall, even though It be built of wood and iron. It may have to serve as u market hall, or even for a picture show at times. -The visitor’s general impression is that life is quiet and peaceable, no one seems to hurry, every one appears • have time to tarry and talk. Business often takes a second place in a store until the small social amenities haxe been exchanged. It is usual to apply the term “sleepy” to all dorps; the gentle accusation may be trtfe after the hurry of Durban dr Johannesburg, and certainly would be just if thinking in terms of New York. Life is happy, the air is warm, the simple necessaries are easily obtained, and, provided that one is not possessed by the -fiery ambition of the hustling type, peace and calm may easily compensate for the lack of some of the veneerof modern civilization which, after all, is so thin.

Forest Fire Is Big War Evil

The president, we are told by .Science. New York, has authorized a loan of $1,000,000 to the forest service for lire fighting expenses, to meet emer- ; gency conditions in the national for- ; ests of the northwest and the Pacific coast. j The loan was made from the special ; ■4 r.-f —ttF — CpH— —l ■finen>y luun hi »v,vrvtv.vntYt piituviA the disposal of the president by con- ; gross. It is recognized that the projection of the national forests is an important and es<i‘iiti:il xvar activity. 'Forestry officials regard the presefit , fire season in the qnrthwest as in-some ways the most serious with which the -government'h«s ever hn drid cope.. Ear ■—j ly drought, high winds, electrical 8 storms, labor shortage anti depletion of j the regular, protective force as a result i of the war have combined to make the i fire conditions unprecedented : y bad. I Necessity for resort to the presidential i fund was due to the fact that the ap» propriation bill for The department of j agriculture for the’ current year had not yet been passed.

It seems very curious at first sight that one liquid should be able to float on the surface of another ; but if we think carefully abqut it we see at once that whether a thing floats on the surface of water or not depends upon two things, writes the Clfihl’s Book of Wonders. First, whether it is soluble—that is, will dissolve—ln water or not. For instance, if we put a piece of salt in water it disappears, because 1 the salt is soluble in water. If, how- ; ever, we put a piece of light wood on water it floats there because it is not ; soluble, and therefore remains intact, and also because the weight of tne piece of wood is less than an equal plecerisr water. It is much the same with oil. Oil and fat are quite insoiuhle in water, and as the oil is considerably lighter than the bulk of water it floats on the surface.

The war is considerably of a mystery to him because he is able to read little, but that does not jprevent his washing to discuss it with those about him, as he did the other day in a group of men who were st»nding on a street corner in Muncie, talking of war developments. Finally it came his turn to contribute to the conversation and he said: “It don’t ‘ hardly seem to me like them Huns is doin’ as well as the Gers mans did. fer a while. But wait till we git our merchant marine a-goin’ an' we’ll blow the devil out o’ all of ’em? —lndianapolis News.

Why Oil Floats on Water.

His War Observations.

THE EVENINW REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER 1 , IND.

Broken Links

By A. W. PEACH

! (Copyright, WlB. by McClure Newspaper | Syndicate.) Miss Copeland paused on her way down the dusky corridor and listened. —there was no doubt in ifer mind that Ufier suspicions of the past week were well founded. Thirteen years of city life—most of tt spent In the hoarding house whkrh had been her only home —had not hardened nor driven away the deep, maternal tenderness which had gone out to many a waif .who had drifted Into the house. _ Sim, knewribat In that rcuim a gird-. was crying—weeping In the low, sui>dued, silent way that is ever significant of a breaking or homesick hfeart. She went on to the door of her room, and then paused again. She remembered the shy, refined, girlish woman, who with her young husband hnd rirorne to the room Carly in the week. Something was wrong, greatly wrong; and quietly Miss Copeland turaed back, readj- to meet the insolent word, the dumb. Impassive face of one who welcomes no kindly interference. ’ ; | She knocked softly, but heard no answer; then she opened the door. ! She saw the slight form of a girl ' stretched on the bed. her dark hair In disarray, her eyes covered with slim 1 hands, her shoulders heaving. j “My dear, may I help you in some way?" Miss Copeland asked gently. i“I am simply an old maid living in • the house when I am not a business . woman. I wish I could help yon," the ' older woman ‘said, a bit eagerly, for the beauty of the girl, her evident rei finement, and her grief, appealed to her. ~ . “Thank you—but you cannot help me. I am afraid —and I must be brave.” The girl sat up suddenly, brushing her dark hair into place. “But when Norman —he is my husband —is away, I have my blues out. He is trying so hard, and father has been so-—so terribly unkind I” The tears seemed again to be coming. Miss Copeland spoke hastily. “Now suppose you tell me about it. I am in charge of a number of girls in a great office—almost a mother confessor. Bee if I can’t help in some way, will you ?” . ’ The “dark eyes were wistful. “I have no mbther I can remember —and I have wanted one so much —to talk toi” 1 -

“Then make believe I am your mother; you see, I am an old maid but I love children. You set—l have suffered a little. I understand. So tell me. My name is Della Copeland.” The girl clasped her hands tensely for a moment, then the tight fingers relaxed.“lt’s simple—lt seems so, anyway. You see Norman and I learned to —to love each other. Father was angry. You see Norman worked in one of father’s mills. He said I was too young —I know I am, but we loved each other, and the years don’t count, do they ?" “No.- my dear, love knows no years.” Miss Copeland answered faintly. [ “I told father I would have more years to be happy with Norman. But he —he was stem, and harsh, and unkind. Then we learned he was planning to send Norman away—to South : Afrk*a. We—-we simply couldn’t stand that. I wanted’Norman to marry me. right away; he wouldn't without father’s consent, but father wouldn’t even see him. Then he told -me—fie was! going to send me away. I told him I would not go”—the dark eyes began to gleam, and the listener guessed that the father’s spirit was in Ms -child —“that I would marry ...Norman. He told me I did not dare. I did.” The girl looked wearily toward the window. She went on, a bit more i ■ ■■ quietly:

“We were married. ‘Father had Norman discharged. He refused to see me. I did not beg, nor shall I. though I know he loves m€. The worst is, everywhere Norman goes for work in his special 41 line father’s influence stops him from securing it. - Norman —oh. he has been so brave, so kind and so uncomplaining. He is trained in one kind of work, but he’s trying to do what he can, and it’s hard nbw.” • “Have you asked your father to forgive you?” Miss Copeland asked hesitatingly. a. The girl’s slight form stiffened and the watchers saw the pride of race sterh on her features. “Never* I shall never do that! He must ask us to return*!” Miss Copeland pondered a minute, her hopes sinking as she thought. - “Will you tell uje your name’’ she_ queried. “Why. I should have told you. Fm proud of It. Miss Copeland—Mrs. Norman Barker. My‘hwn name is Laurel Jeffery—father owns the Wellston mills.” ■ .. A'iong silence fell between ,them. It was broken by steps that, approachtng slowly, quickened as they neared the door. In came a tall, good-loOk-ing young man, whose gray eyes could not brighten the shadows beneath them. ’ He was Introduced toMiSs' Copeland by a proud wife. Taking advantage of her first opportunity. Miss Copeland slipped out and hurried toher own. robm. There she stood in Its silence and dusk, thinking. Finally A dAOiAIIMU - • -

“It is very foolish. very, very; but I,shall go and see father. Those brave, coiirageoug yjjung. hearts must “Hot suffer.” . .• With her decision made, she sat in the dusk near the window of her room, dreaming—dreaming of a lost girlhood, an empty womanhood, and. brooding on the gray and quiet ywr*that lay before her—lonely paths for 1 the walking of lonelyriepr.The maid at the door softened her voice. “Mr. Jeffrey says that yon . must give your name and state yotir , errand, please.” Miss < 'opeland smiled... .“Tell him JL have come over two hundred miles for five minutes of his time.” The maid hesitated, but went in. A moment later she returned smiling. “He is in the library, where you may se<‘ him.” ' ( Through the great hall she walked to the door whefe the maid stood and quietly entered the room,—7 7 A mavi nf p/ov.-r't'l build rose heals. fly from a chair, iqld_dowii Ma paper and lifted a strong. stprfr face. With lips parted he stood as if hypnotized, his gray eyes staring; then the harsh lines seemed swept from his face, a sudden overwhelming wonder and joy took the Jr place. He stepped forward with outstretched hands. “Dell I Della! It is you—it is you —oh — .... .■ . “Yes, Stephen, ft is I—but ymi must Dot hold my hand," she said, smiling faintly. “I shall hold it until I am sure I have you here! Della, where have you been? Why have you come? Do you remember —” “Stephen, are you so glad to see me?” “Glad to see you J I have been hungry for the sight of your face for fifteen years! Why didn’t you answer my letters? Why —” He stopped, ma king an effort to calm himself. “fet’asitshe suggested quietly. “Ah, Stephen, why bring back the old years and the old regrets? I .was willing to marry you, you remember, but—you didn’t have the courage to go against your father’s will. You remember, he would have nothing to do with me, you ” His voice was hoarse. “My God I If I only had had the courage! These years, Della, these years —years—of memories—” His head dropped. “I was a coward —but ft’s not too late, Della. You —why, the years have been kind to you—are you—” “Married? No!” She shook her head sadly. "I couldn’t—with my memories.” “Della I” “Wait, Stephen. I came to see you. You say you wish you had opposed your father. Let me tell you something —” She leaned over, and tenderly she told him of the young couple in th'e dingy boarding-house room, of tjie slight, brave young girl, of the young husband covering a dread of the future with a present smile. Then she told him their names. He started to his feeL “My little, girl—there I I wanted to teach them a lesson — I forgot my—lesson. I was a coward and —my God I I have paid for it.” He turned to her. “I am going to put a call straight to your house—where is it?” Her heart throbbed at his words “Stephen, they will be wild with joy I” She gave him the call as she imagined the scene tb.be enacted in that far away room of despair. He shouted the call into the telephone; brushing aside some rernonstrance with an abrupt word. He clung to the receiver while he waited —a picture of eagerness. Then—“ Hello I Laurvi’’—‘‘Father’’— “Yes, father”—“l want you to come home! You and-—and Norman. - ‘•There —there—there —little . girl l” “Yes, pack upl and come”—“l've been a pig-headed ass"—“Yes, you bet we will” —“Come right away!” He turned from the telephone. His eyes were quiet, his face calm. She thought as she, watched him tnat the years had been kind, indeed, to him. Sne rose, feeling as if into her heart had, entered again the silence and the emptiness, while soon for him the last shadows would pass. “Now, I must He sprang up and” laid his hands gently yet firmly upon her shoulders. His voice was vibrant, yet tender. “You are never''going—never, Della, if I can keep you. Now that chance has brought you, no one lives who can take you from me. I was too much of a coward once to take y.pu, and you had too much pride to come to me; but, my dear, we simply must save something ojit of the years—they not alt be lost years. Don't you love me even a little?” „ Her head sank. “Stephen. I have always loved you and a I wax's shall; but”—very softly and very quietly—“youth is past —and the dreams of youth.” 1 ’ Putting his arm about her. he drew her to him. “I know, oh. I know, my dear; but youth is not all.” His voice was shaking. “The springtime and summer have gone—but the Indian summer —let’s enjoy it together!” She looked up with tears in he» eyes. “Yes, I forgot—there is Indian summer —Stephen—Stephen.!”

Signs of a Good Time.

Mrs. Flatbush—“Did’ your children enjoy themselves at the neighbor’s party” yesterday?” Mrs. Bensonhurst —-“They must have. We’ve had a doctor twicep. to Beatrice and three times to r ßobby today.” Yonkers Statesman. /

Civilian Buffering.

C “Didn’t that wild demonstration upset your nerves!" • “Completely. rm Buffering from

For Early Spring Street Wear

If It Is to be a contest between the one-piece trotteur and the two-piece suit for springtime street wear, such handsome outfits as that pictured above will help the cause of suits immensely. Suits have turned In the direction of unusual lines. What with Chinese coats that have proved so effective in the popular short fur coats for midwinter, and the straight up-and-down models that have just appeared In the handsomest materials, and sleeves that flare at the wrist or go to the opposite extreme afid are skin tight, suits have not by any means played all “their trump cards. Skirts are narrow and plain, distinguished by many variatior s as to management of waistline and pockets. They are no longer than for some time, but, as to coats,’ one cannot generalize —there is too great a variety in them, too much individuality of design. The chic suit in the picture is an example of an individual style, which manages an. almost straight-line silhouette in spite of some fullness in its skirt. The broad, shaped girdle is placed somewhat below the waistline, fastening to the left with a buckle, and there is an odd group of tpcks stitched in oblongs with parallel sides.

Three Hats for Southern Tourists

Such an exodus south Is promised, and is, in. fact). jmder_way.... that_tbe; business of furnishing apparel for southern tourists is a more important factor in merchandising than ever before. Nearly all these birds of passage among us mortals are people in easy circumstances, to say the least, and many of them are in a position to command the best In apparel, as in everything else that money can buy. It is an educated, discriminating and exacting taste in clothes that designers must satisfy when they undertake to suit the fashionables that congregate under sunny skies In midwinter. They are there to see and to be seen, and it is not likely that there is any greater fashion parade anywhere than in our own famed American winter resorts. In millinery there are hats that have their try-outs tn the South and become established as styles for spring; they 'are, therefore, interesting to every woman. A group of three of them appears above, one for dress, one for <tpruidress and one for gding-about, the last having a light wrap made to match it ' '<• • The semidress hat at the top of the group is a . favorite shape us times gone by, which reappears In this graceful interpretation of" the English walking hat Its brim, curving up at each

which the tailor must have put In just to show how expert his work ran be, or~to make up for pockets which be has had the hardihood to omit. This omission is indeed unusual. Velvet in bands replaces fur as a trimming, finishing the pointed bottom of the coat and placed at the top of the small, close-fitting cuff. It overlays the collar at the back and part way down the sides. It is early in the season to consider suits for spring, but spring arrives in January or February in our southern states ; we shall have time to study suits and the trotteur long before the approach of Easter, wt en we are expected to be suited QT otherwise outfitted in the North.

It's Quality Now.

As simplicity is the keynote of fashion just now, it has developed naturally, if Somewhat quickly, that women are paying very much more attention to the quality of merchandise. The finer cloths in all ready-to-wear apparel are appreciated most. Perhaps they buy fewer garments, but there is no doubting that the better ones are selling first.

side, reveals a facing of brilliant sip-per-straw, bound at the edge with a harrow fold of satin. The crown Is entirely covered with satin, draped over it and tied at the back in the most casual way imaginable. At the front a basket of flowers is embroidered on the satin. This simple-seeming hat la. in reality, a difficult affair to make, for each separate little straw has to be placed In position with perfect accuracy. A hat of this kind might be made in any of the fashionable suiting colors with facing in black. At the left a satin-covered hat in black has a crown beruffled with hair-braid lace and a border of it falling from the brim edge. A bouquet of spring flowers Is posed against the side crown. It is a picturesque and summery creation —a forerunner of wide brimmed models that may be expected to arrive in force next summer. The sailor shape with soft crown, shown at the right, has no adornment but a big tassel. It is developed in beige colgr, yvitb braid brim and satin crown. The wide scarf ,has a long turned-back velvet collar and Is gathered at the back, from which long, heavy silk tassels are suspended,