Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 February 1919 — Page 3

ICELAND

THE autonomy that has come its a gift of the war to Iceland merely follows upon a —former troirre~ rule gi'antcdby Denmark to the island folk in 1874. Bordering as the island does upon the arctic circle, it would seem anomalous indeed that the former home of the free-necked, —all-conquering VIkings should he associated with aught hut human liberty, or that the restraints and oppressions of autocratic governments should be familiar things In this little detached world. But Iceland has had Its political struggles nevertheless, and from the very beginning of its history it became the refuge and sanctuary of a people seeking safety and refuge from the intolerable tyranny of a Norseman’s rule. Iceland’s stoiy is really the story of the Viking, says Christian Science Monitor. In a minor degree it is associated with the mission of the Celt and Anglo-Sdxon in the early diffusion of Christianity. In 1890 the Icelandersactually celebrated the thousandth anniversary of the landing of the first Christians. One is apt to picture the Viking as a sea-rover making his warship fast to that of his enemy while the shouts of the victor rise high’ above the clash and clang of spear and battleax upon shield and helmet. But war was not really his occupation nor was the sea his home. He only turned to the sea for plunder and recreation when he wearied of the pastoral life. If he was a man of wealth and influence, in the old Norse country, he was certain to possess many thralls or retainers, to own a great hall and possibly a temple. In the center of the hall would be a row of fires, and against the wall the high seat or place of honor, its great pillars carved and crowned with Images of Thor, Odin and Friggft. The Viking himself would be magnificently attired, his garments bound with plates of gold, and his sword, “Fire-of-the-Sea-Klng,” in a jeweled scabbard by his side. On his neck would doubtless be a collar of engraved gold, while his flowing cloak .. would be edged with gold. Such, also, was the early Icelander early stages, of his migration from the old Norse home. How Iceland Was Settled. — The Vikings peopled the remote island deliberately, as a land where freedom awaited them. Unlike other lands it had no prehistoric history. Fire-born, it had known not even the prehistoric savage. Man’s coming began, it may be said, with a woman’s whim, and a Viking’s vow. Is it not all told in “The Story of Harald Hairfair,” and by Snorri in “Heimskringla?” How Harald sent his messengers to Gyda, daughter of Eric, King of Hordaland, with the request that she become his wife. How to them she. replied that she would not, for the taking to husband of a king who had no more realm to rule over than a few folk, did not appeal to the. proud princess. How Harald, swore that he would not cut his hair nor comb it until he had gotten to himself all Norway, “with the scat thereof and the dues." How after years of strenuous effort and warfare he brought all Norway under a sway that was to be feafed wherever the Norse tongue was spoken. How he solemnly'bathed and cut his hair, held a feast, and wedded the now triumphant Gyda, queen of the worldwithbrlmr ken. That was ten centuries ago, when Harald introduced to Norway that centralization and consolidation of power which was to make of him a tyrant and a blight upon the ambitions of the nobles who felt the weight of his sway. The freemen resisted as long as -they could. Beaten again and again in fight, many of them withdrew from the land of their birth, preferring exile with their accustomed liberties to a vassalage which was an outrage to the free-born.-Discovered by Naddqdd. Thus, began the incursions and excursions of the Vikings. The fairhaired warriors of the North spread themselves over many in . far-off For centurieaj.he coast and river hamlets ofEnpand,

Hot Springs Near Reykjavik.

Scotland and Ireland were constantly on the alert in case of depredations and sudden 'descents. The distant lava peaks of Faroe ultimately became the homes of those who dared hot return to Norway, until at last one of their number, the Viking Naddodd, left the isles and was driven by contrary winds in sightof thesnow-cappecE peaks of Iceland. A landing was effected, but Naddodd found no trace of human beings. Christening -the newly discovered country Snaeland, he immediately took his departure. Four years later. In 864, came Gardar, a Swedish Viking, who was the first to circumnavigate the island. He rechristened the land Gardar’s Holm. Then came Floki, who found his way to the island by the aid of ravens, and who gave to the then inhospitable land the present chilly name of Iceland. , Reykjavik, the “smoking Creek,” now the principal town, was recognized from the earliest times as an unfortunate, location for a settlement and a capital. The-original colony was settled here by Ingolfr Arnarson, a high-born Jarl of Norway, who left his native land in the company of his foster-brother, Hjorleifr, ten years after the descent of Floki upon its shores. Within 60 years from the coming of Ingolfr, the population of the island is said to have numbered over 60,000. So much land, however, had been taken by the first comers that an agreement was made by which all late comers could take only as much land as they could encompass by fire in a day. This was done by building a huge fire in the center of the lot, whence the claimant traveled in a circle as far away from the fire as he could see the smoke. Kindly and Hospitable. From this virile race, which scorned to bend the knee to Harald, the modern Icelanders are descended. They are kindly and hospitable to the stranger within their borders, while their homes are simple and quaint. Some are old dwelling places of turf and stone with an Inclosed mowing pafchT the.-gheep-folds,-'the 'byre--and a small garden for vegetables. The spoken tongue of Iceland is no longer heard in the Norse valleys, but in the arctic isolation of their Island home the Icelanders have retained it in its ancient purity; and sagas and traditions of the remote past are as familiar as household words to the inhabitants. The government, down to the granting of autonomy, had at its head a minister, appointed by the king of Denmark, resident at Reykjavik, and responsible to the althlng, or the parliament of the colony, for all acts concerning Iceland. The althlng consisted of 36 members, of whom 30 wete elected by the people and six by the crown. It was elected every two years, and was divided into two chambers, of which the upper was composed of six elected and six appointed members, while the lower consisted of 24 elected members. The king of Denmark had the nominal right of vetc. In 1911 suffrage was extended to women and servants, and the right is now possessed by all competent adults. The revenue of the country is derived almost entirely from customs. Elementary education Is well provided for, and the number of illiterates is small.-,-

The boat life of Siam is extremely interesting. Business and health and happiness, all center In the river or its branches. A boat and a paddle are almost as natural and indispensable possessions to a Siamese as his arms or legs. He has no notion of traveling any distance except by boat, and the idea of living in a place inaccessible by water generally strikes him as absurd. Three weeks to come down stream with a full -cargo, a week to dispose of it and indulge in the gayeties of the capital, four or five months to get back with the emptied boat, and the rest of the year for farjp work at home —such is the program of many a Siamese famny. * * -. ,

Siam's Boat Life.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER, INQ.

A Change of Boarding Places

By S. B. HACKLEY

(Copyright, by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) “I.e’s go past Miss Cecil’s house! O favver, why not?” Ned Duncan, strolling along quiet. TmThi-fiordered Marvin street. In the cool dusk' made himself smile _at tjie elf that dragged on his long fine hands, but he turned back before they reached the corner on which was the rented cottage of Cecilia Reeves, the woman he loved. Cecilia, a young milliner who took four college-girl roomers to help out on her income, bent her yellow head lower] over her heliotrope bed as she caught sight of his retreat. She had meant to give them some flowers when they passed. She knew lie loved the heliotrope. Had she offended him? she wondered. While she puzzled, with a*hurt heart. Driscoll wtts saying to himselfe=-*U must -keep away-T must riot see her any more. The woman 1 marry must love my child —she must love my little Bahs!” In the fourth year of Barbara’s life with him, the baby with the roguish black eyes had come to them. Then the next year Barbara died, and the baby, an elfish, whimsical, lovable thing, had tumbled his-wtdow-ered care, and three years of his old cousiri’ssomewhat grumpy hdusjekeeping and nursing. Then the old cousin had remarried, and he had shut up the bungalow with Its crown of purple blossom-covered bougainvillea, amT had boarded since then, somewhat to Babs’ disadvantage, he thought sometimes. Then he had fallen in love with Cecilia Reeves.

He had thought she was the “mother kind” of girl (Babs loved her) until lately. Since the evening before, he was certain she was not. Then he had decided he couldn’t ask her to marry him. Not that he was certain she would marry him if he did ask her, but he couldn’t, anyway. His landlady of the last month had been Miss Reeves’ friend until Driscoll and little Barbara came to her boarding house, and it occurred to her that her quiet boarder, who had something to do with the management of the city waterworks system; would-be an ideal second husband. Then after the evening Cecilia came to take dinner with her and -her “prize boarder” walked home with her, Mrs. Akers was no longer Cecil’s friend. .Somehow in the last week she had made the Impression on Driscoll that Cecil didn’t He had come home a 1 illle earlier than usual the evening before and started to the kitchen. “I wonder Ned keeps that child since his wife died and he has no one to care for her,” he heard Cecil’s soft clear voice. “I am going to try to persuade him to let me find a place for her in a home!” Driscoll felt as though something had struck him. He turned and went upstairs. She —she didn’t want him to keep little Babs —she cared so little for his baby she would persuade him to send her to a home ! The child dropped the doll Mrs. Akers had bought her that day and sprang into his arms. He kissed the eager little face over and over. “Oh, Cecil—girl—did you think that yon could persHndn mo tn rtcr-w <«nn= scienceless thing like that?” lie thought as Babs ran downstairs to tell Mrs. .Akers “favvetf had -come. Mrs. Akers was already aware of the fact. She had heard his step in the back hall; she knew he had heard Cecil’s last remark. “Was Miss Reeves here just now when I came in?” Driscoll asked at dinner. “I thought I heard her voice.” Mrs. Akers’ red lips flashetT a smile. “Oh, you eavesdropper! I hope we weren’t saying anything bad. Oik yes, we —Cecil was saying something about Babs, wasn’t she?” As Driscoll lifted the child to her chair Mrs. Akers, noting his set lips, felt that she had scored. Who was to tell him that Cecilia had been .speaking of old Ned Mount, a destitute cripple who persisted in keeping his tiny orphaned grandchild in dirt and squalor? Not she! That evening when the little girl slept Driscoll got out that other Barbara’s picture, a thing he did not often do —much as he had loved her—since he had come to love Ceciliq. “The house'of the heart has many chambers, Barbara, dear.” he said to the picture, “and I wanted to put that other girl in the one alongside the one in which you stay, but oh, Barbara— Tlnrbara -I lrive herl love the child —1 daren’t ask her tocome, Barbara I” The evening after she saw Driscoll turn away from her gate, Cecilia went to the theater with Lucien Glover, a faithful admirer whom she particularly detested, and sat near Driscoll. Driscoll, moody and unhappy, pretended interest in the play,, but he had but one thought. Glover had no right to buy her her favorite Richmond roses —he himself had done that so lop*;* Two Weeks later came the day of tbiannual rose carnival; Little Babs, wild with excitement, went to see the parade in the care of Mrs, Akers. That lady, engrossed in the conversation of a gossipy friend, gave the' restless child but scant attention. little girl climbed to her and leaned

confidingly against her. Cecil squeezed the plump little body to her. and kissed the witching little face. “Favter won't bring me to see you any more.” shewhispered; “he. Jink you don’t like little girls!” Cecil's head jyew hot. Had Elsie Akers put that and other ideas in his' head? Little Babs danced away, but in less than five minutes Cecil heard her scream of terror. She sprang to her feet. “Mv ha by ! My baby! Where are you?" Then she saw the child —her light dress blazing. Somebody had dropped a piece of burning paper.. A mist swam before Cecil’s eyes, but she shook it away and tiling her- tan woolen, cape around the child. “It's all out—the little girl isn’t hurt!” she heard somebody saying. Then everything grew dark before her. That evening Cecil, waited on like a queen tly her four college girls, frowned a little when the doorbell rang. "If It’s that Lucien Glover,” she told them, “tell him Till asleep, qnything — only send him away.” But it was Driscoll that came in. He started to take^her’hands, hut seeing the bandages,-turned very white. Cecil smiled tremulously in his troubled face- “Don’tfoci told him, “my hands are only bl Ist cred a trifle. The doctor says they’ll be healed in just a little while. How is my—how is Babs?” “I left her asleep,” he answered. “She isn’t hurt at all. She begged me to bring her to you.” “I suppose,” she held up her head, “you told her I didn’t like little girls. What have you heard me say, Ned Driscoll, tb make you think me that kind of woman ?” He colored hotly, but he told her, and of Mrs. Akers’ subsequent remark. With flaming face Cecil explained. “I’m ashamed.” he saidp resen tly, standing before her. full of contrition. “Oh, Cecil, I’m ashamed to tell you what is in my heart! Forgive me. <> 1 need —” Her eyes twinkled. “I think you need a change of boarding place!” “No,” he said, “I need to be in my own home with the girl of my heart; but when I think what you must have thought of me these unhappy two weeks, I’m afraid—” “What’s two weeks?” She leaned toward him. . “Oh, Ned. what’s two weeks out of a lifetime?” Then, very carefully, so as not to hurt the blistered hands, he took her in his arms.

SOME OLD-TIME BIG CATTLE

One English Ox, History Shows, Weighed 3,700 Pounds, Another 4,340 Pounds. —— —— With all the modern improvement in breeds of live stock—lt- may be doubted whether there Is living today n steer or ox equal in size, to _SQme_of„ the fat cattle of olden times. In 1845 there was disposed of by raffle at Pratt’s Old London inn, in Taunton, England, a giant ox of the Devon breed that stood 19 hands high and weighed 3,700 pounds. this one was npt in it with the Durham ox which earned a modest fortune for its owner, John Day, and brought the now famous Shorthorn cattle into high repute a little more than a century ago. A writer in the Mark Lane Express described this extraordinary animal as having weighed when two years old 3.520 pounds, and when slaughtered at eight years old his carcass dressed 2,478 pounds, while his live weight at that time was stated to have been 4,340 pounds. He girthed 11 feet 1 inch just behind the -shoulders. His owner exhibited him six years through England and Scotland, having a van for hls -conveyance about —the country. It was in 1807 that Day’s ox dislocated his hip and had to be killed. Favdrite, the sire of this bovine wonder, was made famous by the prodigious size and remarkably fine form of the steer. When Charles Colling of Darlington, who is regarded as the founder of the Shorthorn breed, sold all his cattle at auction in 1810, Comet, a six-year-old bull by Favorite, brought 85,000, and six cows by him, some of them eleven years old, made an average of $720, which was un-heard-of in those days and for many years afterward.

Storm Stops Hanging.

An eighteenth century execution on Kensington common was stopped for a time owing to a strange cause. On August 19, 1763, two days before the date of the execution, a heavy fog came over London, accompanied by thunder and lightning and torrents of rain. These conditions lasted for nearly 48 hours, and many people believed that the last day had arrived. When the time fixed for the execution arrived the assembled crowd cried shame on the sheriff forhanging aman’when the world was coming to an,end. persisted in his preparations, they burst through the btlfrlersand stopped the proceedings, shouting that the culprit might as well wait a few minutes, when the cgrand summons would come for all. The sheriff had to obtain the assistance of a force of soldiers before the execution could be carried out.—London Chronicle.

All Was Not Lost.

•‘ “General,” cried the orderly, riding up in great’excitement, “our left wing is gone.” , x “Then It |« no longer possible to fly.” replied the general thoughtfully. “However, we should not forget that our legs are left.” the way.—Bostox.. Transcript. *— ——— ———-- - ,

Spring suit for young girl, on the left. It is of tan-colored covert cloth, made with the new length of coat which is left open from neckline, In . the Charles Stuart fashion. It Is trimmed below the waist with brass buttons, and the lower sleeve is linked together with brass buttons. There is a cravat of the material. On the right is a tunic suit for a young girl, of red Wool jersey trimmed with bands of cream-colored jersey embroidered in red and black. The large hat is of cream jersey faded with red straw and trimmed with ar red cord and tassel.

GAY FROCKS FOR THE YOUNG GIRLS

Increased Brilliancy of Wardrobes in Honor of Returning Soldiers. New York. —America has not yet found a fitting name for the girl of sixteen. The English call her the “flapper,” and the Anglo-Saxon world uses the expression, whether or not it approves of it. In America it is not liked, but no one has risen to put this type of young person in a niche and give her a name. And she is quite important, proclaims a fashion writer. She deserves a strong appellation —a quick, vibrant, significant name for her class, her type and her virility. We have buried under the cobwebs of oblivion the “sweet sixteen” phrase. Booth Tarkington has made the one word “seventeen” classify, at least for America, the youth of our land, with its awkward, stumbling tendencies toward manhood, its budding emotionalism sternly suppressed through pride and shame, its desire for girls’ company, and its contempt for that desire. But if we applied the single word “sixteen” to that gay, ecstatic, poised, self-assured, highly educated, superintelligent, adventurous class of tall, slim things that spread over the land, usually setting the pace for their mothers’■..fashioPSr it would-be

puerile. It is difficult to be pessimistic if one keeps close to the side of girls of that age: — r out look on life, their fa it h in themselves and the world, their unbounded ability to find pleasure unaided by anyone else, renews youth in middle age. They are no longer creatures held’ on a leash. They are rarely asked to obey; they are,, constantly consulted by their mothers, and they usually take an intelligent part in the management of their home, its social environments, its financial expenditures, its ideals, and its ambitions. Granting these things—and everyone does grant them who has had any close companionship with the typical American girl, it is natural that her interest in clothes should be strong, and not only strong but usually exceedingly good. She dresses herself, as a rule, better than her mother can dress her. - Many Cater to Girls. Working downward —or upward, rather—through these psychological phases of girlhood among the AngloSaxons, and especially the North Americans, one finds the reason for the establishments of many successful dressmaking houses which cater to young girls. Few of the great establishments here or abroad neglect the “flapper.” From the time she is twelve until she makes her bow to society at eighteen she is catered *to by Rouses that- expend much Ingenuity and brilliancy of workmanship on her especial type of clothing. Two of the important financial successes in the dressmaking world of New York started with th® schoolgirl. Fifth avenue houses which cater to dowagers and sensational young matrons have determined this year to place young girls’ clothes in their salons. v Youngsters who try to look like Maty Pickford are often used as mannequins, but they have not been a cess, because th,e sixteen-year-older doesn't wish to Ipok like Mary Pickford. She Wouldn’t be caught with curls down her hnek. a sweet smile, and~~chtibby ■ legs- brtww-* -short skirt < ■■ • r

She often produces the most extreme fashions, which her older sister' and her mother copy. She is the type, one might claim, for all the fashions of the civilized world today. That’s a sweeping statement, but just run over the gamut of fashionable clothes for the last five years and see if you don’t come to that conclusion. The bobbed hair, the short skirt, the round neek, the baby sleeves, the sashes, the but-toned-down-the-back frocks, the short coats—-these are the fashions that have ruled the world and have begun in the schoolroom. What She Wears Today. The youngster of sixteen chooses materials for her own clothes that are the same as those worn by her elders, whom she envies little these days, because she rules a world of Jier own, that everyone acknowledges. She doesn’t have to dress herself up in long clothes and high head dresses and play that she is old. She has been known to grudgingly loan some of her clothes to her young married sister for an especially smart affair! She likes georgette crepe for her evening gowns, and therefore she wears a good deal of it. Velveteen has found her approval, and she orders school frocks and afternoon dance frocks in it. • She has a tailored suit which was especially designed for her judgment,. and which-jshe acceptedr- It hasir coat that covers her hips, is cut on * straight line with a slight flare out at the back, and does not fasten. She ties it at the neck with a stiff cravat made Of ribbon, peltry, Chinese brocade, or the material of the coat. She may have six or eight of these cravats in her bureau drawer, or she hangs them on the electric light at the side of the bureau, in imitation of her brother. She likes her coat unfastened, for she never"admits that she is cold. She has just escaped the hardening process of bare legs, bare arms and a cold nursery. The winter has no terrors for. her and she dresses as she wishes, no matter what the thermometer. _ Her Furs and fiats. T The “flapper” who is tall enough to carry a big fox around her neck is sure to come into possession of one.. When her judgment goes against a bi® animal she chooses instead a coach-; man’s collar of sealskin or squirrels which rises about her face like the calyx of a flower and spreads downward over her shoulders, hugging them in the flat Victorian manner. She has appropriated for her own? use many accessories in peltry that the older woman has neglected. She knows the cleverness of-a fur cravat and the medieval splendor of a fur girdle. And, by the way, the “flappers” have no idea of being left sion of those wearing Victory clothes. They have no shrinking about their jCostumery and what it signifies; they pre instinctively psychological, and they wish to proclaim the side they took in the war by every manner of clothes that the dressmakers and milliners 'have thrown into the fashions to proclaim the day of peace. So the “flapper” wears red — bright glowing, triumphant, red. She doesn’t hesitate a second in choosing several garments of it. She is not weighted down by the anxieties of her elders that certain colors must be taboo because age is drawing d map on tha face. 1 . ■ (Copyright, »». by the McClure News* . upaper-, Syndicate.}.. ■ -z. L -