Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 February 1919 — TALES FROM BIG CITIES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TALES FROM BIG CITIES

The Tighter the Skirts the Slower the Trains PniLADELPHIA.- c -“Cberchez la femme," says the French proverb. But an American proverb says, “Corporations have no souls.” How then can the former apply to a railroad company? Nevertheless, tight skirts on women passengers have upset sefied-

ules on the railroads only slightly less than a. blizzard. The Pennsylvania railroad, which reduces the operation of trains to scientific accuracy of detail, has found that since the women have begun wearing tight skirts the average train stop Is now 17 seconds longer than when skirts were short and loose. Thus we have this paradox: The running time of trains is lengthened as that of women Is shortened.

In reply to a complaint of the South Jersey Commuters’ association the management says the running time of trains cannot be shortened unless styles of skirts change. . . Taking or- leaving h- train anywhere Is no easy task for the t g woman, but in New Jersey it is serious business. The equipment there is largely old Pullmans converted into day coaches. Formerly- a porter put a stool under the bottom step, but there is no stool or porter now and the women have fairly to throw themselves into the arms of the brakemen tn detraining. In entraining the situation is even worse. Everybody knows that railroad companies tell the truth at all times, even concerning a delayed train. So this deplorable situation in New Jersey must be accepted as having more or less foundation of fact. And it opens up questions of more than local importance. Bor example. , Does the economy in skirt "material even up for the extra expense to t e railroads? , What would happen if the Pennsylvania company should use modern cars in New Jersey ? Would the train schedules get back to normal or would the skirts get another reef?

“De Gang” Is Rounded Up by the Police Patrol MILWAUKEE.— As the patrol Stopped before the central police station passers-by stopped to gaze curiously as the “criminals” were unloaded. Out stepped a burly policeman and a sheepish small boy, followed by

“another; {sheepish, and yet others, till there stood eight naughty little urchins; all grinning shamefacedly, all twisting their worn caps In dirty fingers, all with faces decorated with flowing mustaches and beards, traced in coal dust on their scarcely less grimy faces. . j They had been caught building bonfires between the tracks back of the Central Chemical company, 446 Barclay street. The rapidly mounting—blaze had nearly caught a well-stored

boxcar and had threatened wooden frame buildings in the vicinity. lie policeman on the beat, having heard complaints for several weeks about the escapades of the “gang,” decided to give them a scare so called out the real, honest-to-goodness pairol wagon, rushed them all off to the police sta tion, and held them there until Captain Sullivan arrived. The discipline didn’t work very well, though, for the boys, considering the whole affair an exciting adventure, enjoyed themselves hugely, talking to the detectives and officers', and storing up information to retail to their friends about the “pleece station.” Everybody made pets of them—until the C!1I)t It n was in a meek little group of kiddies That filed out of the captain’s office, which they had entered with such a swagger. Captain Sullivan, to whom the distracted policeman had related his troubles at the hands of the “little imps,” made them understand a few things about endangering other people’s property, and evidently they took it to heart. Those of the boys who had not participated in the building of the bonfire, but merely came along as witnesses, were as chastened as the culprits. Only the two elder boys, fourteen and fifteen years old, were held at Detention home. The others being too little to find their way home finished up the day gloriously by a ride back in the chief’s automobile, with the long-suffering policeman aS nurse maid in charge.

Nothing Ornery About This Agent but His Name rf7 ILMETTE, ILL.- —This beautiful and exclusive lake shore city has pracW tlcally made up its mind to challenge the cities of the United States to produce , the equal of its champion neighborhood handyman. He is Earl E.

Orner, for Js.^yeaxs. m th£. ..h&en.Uat. the.. Northwestern station. Here’s the record of one of Agent Orner’s helpful days, which would make a boy ,-SCQUt-t-urn green with envy-;-------r-r-—» “Oh, I’ve lost my hatpin,” moans a young woman as she voices fears of losing her lid. Mr. Ornetf fishes about in a station drawer and says : "Here’s one. We found it a long time ago. Have been holding it for an owner —or an emergency.” A young mother comes in, sadly,

with a wailing baby. Mr. Orner accents confidences. The mother tells him: “My baby’s hungry. I don’t know what to do.” “Oh, I’ll fix that” says Mr. Orner, and he runs downstairs to the engine room. Getting a bucket of hot water from the boiler he comes swiftly back. “Warm the bottle in this,” he suggests. And it is done. The' telephone bell rings. A voice asked : “Oh, Mr. Orner, what time is it?” Since “central” quit telling the Time to patrons Mr. Orner’s business has grown. In the summer he tells the most of Wilmette how the baseball ■cores stand. There Is, however, a fly in Wilmette’s ointment—the name of its champion neighborhood halidyman. Maybd’ a public tag day will be pulled off before Long to enable him to change it to Handy, Helper, Ade, Iledcross or Attaboy. Anyway, Wilmette insists there’s nothing Ornery about its station agent.

Nellie, King, and Googoo, Cream-Eating Pigeon /CHICAGO. —Hight this way, ladies and gentlemen, to see Nellie; and King, V the tea-drinking toast-eating dogs! And also, ladies and gentlemen, we have with us Googoo, the milk-white pigeon, who fattens him Self on cream!

It’s a great life for the pups and the bird F -: They belong to MmsFAnha Foule, 045 West Fourteenth place,and she says there are no bones extant good enough for Nellie and King. This Is a sample of what her loved canines dine on; ? Breakfast—Scrambled eggs, milktoast and tea with cream and sugar. Luncheon—Pork chops, potatoes, bread and milk, and tea with cream and sugar. ? Dinner —Sou’p veal cutlets, milk',

tea with cream and sugpr, ami puppy cakes. •'Honest,” asked the reporter, “do you really do it?” * f. “My dogs are my life,” replied Miss Foule. “They must be cared for and fed just like babies.” ■ And, of course. Miss Foule has hone of those latter. Googoo, the eream-eatipg pigeon 1 That bird lives in a nice little pewMn tire middle of the diningroom table. : “Doggone ft,” said the reporter, aS he left. “There are some lucky birds in this world! This is a great life if you don’t weaken." Down at the Greek’s he ordered: “Ham an’. Make the coffee black."