The Bismarck Tribune Newspaper, July 18, 1917, Page 4

iste ~~ THE: TRIBUNE! Entered at the Postoffice, Bismarck, N. D., as Second Class Matter. _ iSSUED EVERY DAY EXCEr f SUNDAY SUBSCRIPTION RATES PAYABLE IN ADVANCE Dally, ou cmon “outside “of” . ° Dekote, one year ... 6.00 Daily, by mail outside Dakota, three months . 1.50 Weekly, by mail, per year. 1,50 LOGAN PAYNE COMPANY Special Foreign Representative ns NEW YORK, Fifth Ave. Bldg.; CHICAGO, Mai rere Bldg.; BOSTON, 8 Winter &t.; DETROIT, Kresge Bidg.; MINNE- APOLIS, 810 Lumber Exchange. 7 Member Audit Bureau of Circulation E'S OLDEST NEWSPAPER un BTA Established 1872) => WEATHER REPORT for 24 hours ending at noon, July Temperature at 7:00 a. m. . Temperature at noon . Highest yesterday .. Lowest yesterday = 18: 67 88 59 Lowest last night 64 Precipitation ..... . None Highest wind velocity Forecast. For North Dakota: Fair tonight and Thursday; slightly cooler Thurs- day in north and west portions. Lowest Temperatures Fargo ...... aie a) Williston 60 Grand Forks . 57 Pierre .. 66 St. Paul 62 Chicago ;. 62 Swift Current 56 Kansas City 68 San Francisco «54 ORRIS W. ROBERTS, Meteorologist. 0 OOF9SSHOSTSOOO OD ® Many things difficult to de + % sign prove easy to perform— & Johnson. it ite ° GS! 2G 810.91 BALM OS — ee ADVERTISING THE RED TRAIL. Bismarck, as well as every other city on the Red Trail, is losing valuablé advertising, as well as business, be- cause the great national highway is not being promoted to its fullest ex- tent. Scenery and hotel facilities on the Red Trail excel those of riva! routes to the national parks and play- grounds of the West. In fact, the Red Trail has everything in its favor. ‘but competing routes maintain men at strategic points to “get the busi, fécte@ absthe ‘DwitiCities to go over ae te Theviiéd Trail ‘assogi- Addn oys hovone’ at St.i‘Rau) or Minneapolis to instruct tourists as to the advantages of this route. The Commercial club can give the service than. to detail its secretary to secure traffic over the route. Bis- marck, as well as every city ‘between Fargo and ‘Beach, would benefit. It is not too late. A few hundred dol- lars would do the necessary promo- tion work and hundreds still can ‘be induced to go over the Red 'Prail who are-uow-contemplating a more south- ern route. Hotéls ‘and garages along the Resp ¥, Trail can afford to contribute to.a promotion fund which +ill pay the ex- penses of a man at St Paul, whose duty it shall be to interest auto tour- . ists -in' this route. Other highways are represented in the rotundas of the Twin City hotels. Cities located on other routes find that this kind of publicity pays and the Slope will also realize that every dollar spent in attracting tourists through the Mis- souri River valley is well invested. It is not too late to get busy at Luther Burbank says, that, no man is even moderately well educated who doesn’t know how and why a bean or an onion grows. Are you starting a Tow with the college presidents, Lu- ther? GERMAN DEMANDS. Despite the tight German censor- ship upon “outcoming news, enough has leaked to show the hopes of the plain people were raised high the other day, only to be dashed to the ground ‘ky the kaiser himself, speak- ing through his chancellor. Things have been moving swiftly t in Germany. The conviction is spread- ing among the people that submarine warfare, crippling England, will not starve her, and was a terrible blun- der, in that it brought America into the war. The folk who have to do the fighting, tax-paying and starving realize England is still very much in the game, that the United States is moving with a swiftness they did not expect and that Russia’ is once more hitting out with vim and vigor. Internally the people have demand- ‘ed electoral reforms. Externally they have been hoping and praying for a peace founded on no annexa- . Uons and no indemnities. The social- ist party has always been in favor of this program. Recently repre- sentatives of the great Catholic cen- trist party went to Catholic Austria anxious for peace. Shortly the Cath- olic South German papers took up the cry for internal reform and peace. Then Mathias Erzberger, great cen- trist leader, who had learned recently in Switzerland what England and Am- erica were doing, flayed the govern- ment in the reichstag. Thus a bridge was fornied between the two biggest parties—socialists and centrists, for the most part at ness.”. Thousands of tourists are atyback. Such a ‘eystem, while socialist- { ically sound, is economically speak- city and this Slope section no better | continuance’ of a parliamegtary block that would support the kaiser’s cabi- net. Here, if ever, seemed a time when the emperor would have to sing small. But those who thought this did not know their kaiser. Speaking through his chancellor, he proclaimed in words remarkable for their audacity and insolence: “IT repeat that the formula of peace without annexations is unacceptable to us. We cannot declare our terms of peace. We must fight and con- quer.” £ Here talks the man who still be- Heves in his “divine right” as a king. All the terrible years of the war have taught him nothing. The suffer- ings of his people, the losses in men and treasure. the hatred of the whole world have taught him nothing. Standing on what seems the brink of an abyss he dramatically defies so- cialists and Catholics—the majority of his people. ts But he does more. With the same gesture he defies the entire world. Besotted in his beliefs, drunk with power, clinging to all his ancient and outworn imperialistic jdols, he still madly thinks he can crush the as- Pirations of his own people and im- pose his will upon a world arrayed in arms against him. The duty is plain. The Allies must fight on until, with starvation and ruin staring them in the face, the German people will tear the kuiser from his throne, burn the imperial eagles, and substitute democratic gov- ernment for the one-man rule under which tiey now suffer and from which the civilized world suffers. A bee doesn’t buzz when it is gath- ering honey. TOO STRONG League members have vetoed Townley’s plan to settle labor trou- ‘bles by entering’into a peace pact with the I. W. W. The plan proposed by Mr. Townley was too extreme for the level-headed farmers. They know the troubles of the past and the futility of compromising with agi- tators of the I. W. W. type. Wages based upon the price of wheat at time of threshing probably was the straw that broke the camel's in, destructive. Mr. Townley attempt- ed! folead ‘thé*farmers ‘into a nicely and ithat ofsfip{ assistant, Mr. Coates, could not hide. This decision’ does not mean that ‘Townley has: lost his hold upon the league. It only., indicates that the farmers of the state are not going to allow anyone to dictate their busl- ness ‘arrangements, even though they may desire Mr‘ "Townley to shape their politics:’ ys}: The farmeg(} ptobably cares less about party. politics than ‘any murtal living, but when it comes to telling him how much he is to pay his hired ah, the proposition is hardly non- partisan in scope. me Valley City and Devils Lake, where representative meetings were held, opposed the plan vigorously. In Bur- leigh county the attendance at the conference was small and in no sense representative of the farmers of this section. Townley may be able ‘to collect six- teen dollars for telling the farmers how to vote, but when it comes: to conscripting the family till, why, in the words of Kipling, “that is another story.” Kansas is to be pieless save “on an occasional Sunday.” But the country doesn't reach the acme of patriotism until we have a beanless Boston. CHILD LABOR PERIL. The natgonal child labor committee and the federal council of churches have done a very timely and patriotic thing in issuing a fresh warning to legislatures and the general public against the hasty action taken or Proposed to be taken, whose effect would be to abrogate child labor taws and bring youngsters of tender age into the work of the farms, the mills and the truck gardens. t In the holy name of patriotism many dastardly things are done. In the name of country many a money- grabber sees his opportunity to get around and evade wholesome laws designed to protect the future men and women of the country. Already in Connecticut, Minnesota, New Hampshire and Vermont no time has been lost in repealing or -sus- pending the operation of child labor laws. z Everywhere the case is the same. There is a clamor to cut the school hours and the school months. The farmer declares he can’t get along without child labor. The truck gar- dener echoes the call. The makers of munitions say they need children in their plants. The canners assert that without children they cannot put up the great product the country needs. The vast percentage of these claims are false. They are not made in good faith. They are founded in greed. They are inspired by a desire for cheap labor. They are marked by an utter callousness to the fate of the daggers’ points. They menaced the instruments they seek to emplay, an misuse. laid @trap; Whith even his eloquence |-| 3 SYNOPSIS. ‘CHAPTER I—On a trip through the English Cumberland country the reakdown of her automobile forces Louise Maurel, a famous London ac- tress, to spend the night at the farm home of John and Stephen Strange- wey. ‘CHAPTER II—At dinner Louise dis- covers that the brothers are woman- hating recluses. CHAPTER III—Next morning she discovers that John, the younger brother, has recently come into a large fortune. In company with him she explores the farm. , CHAPTER IV-—In a talk with him she is disturbed by his rigid moral principles and finds that his wealth has created no desire for any other life than the simple one he is leading. She tells him her name and that she is the friend of the prince of Seyre, a rich and disreputable neighbor. CHAPTER V—Three months later, unable to rid himself of the memory of the actress and in spite of his brother’s protests, John goes to Lon- don. CHAPTER VI—He finds Louise en- gaged in the rehearsal of a new play, meejai kerofrienda: and; is entertained at luncheon with herby the prince. {)| » |CH&PTER, VII—Jobn: drives, Soplty home:and,gives him. friendly | advide about/love ‘and: life iniLondon. Th prince:and Louise postpone a itt! journey they had arranged for. ‘ CHAPTER VHI. The little room was gaudily decorat- ed and redolent with the lingering odors of many dinners. Yet Louise, who had dined on the preceding eve- aing at the Ritz and been bored, whose taste in food and environment was al- most hypercritical, was perfectly happy. She found the cuisine and the Chianti excellent. “We are outstaying everyone else,” she declared; “and I don’t even mind their awful legacy. of tobaccg smoke. Do you see that the waiter has brought you the bill, Mr. Strangewey? Prepare for a shock. It is fortunate that you are a millionaire!” John laughed as he paid the bill and,| ludicrously overtipped the waiter. “You are so convincing !” Sophy mur- mured. “But remember that your fu- ture entertainment is in the hands of two women, one of whom is a deserv- Ing but struggling young artist without the means of gratifying her expensive tastes.” “My children,” said Louise, rising, “we must remember that we are going to the Palace. It is quite time we started.” They made their way down two flights of narrow stairs into the street. The commissionnaire raised his whis- He to his lips, but Louise stopped him. “We will walk,” she suggested. “This way, Mr. Strangewey !” They passed down the long, narrow street, with its dingy foreign cafes and shops, scarcely one of which seemed to be English. The people who thronged the pavement were of a new race to John, swarthy, a little’ furtive, a class of foreigner seldom seen except in alien lands. Men and women in all stages of dishabille were leaning out of the windows or standing on the door steps. The girls whom, they met occa- |bax 48onally—voung, women. of, all ages, | ticity, of emo THE Fic. dE DHILLIDS OPPENHE © or of * TIE DOUBLE TRAITORS “ THE MASTER MUMMER; Etc-:--* Corenaner unser j walking arm in arm, with shawls: on their heads in e of hats—laughed , openly in John’s face. “Conquest: ywhere he goes!” Louise sighed... “We shall never keep him, Sophy!” . “We have him for this evening, at any rate,” Sophy. replied contentedly ; “and he hasn't spent «all his fortune yet. I am nof at all sure that I shall oot hint'at supper when we come out of the’Palace.”. by “A “pty he felt ‘Into'bad hands so quickly.” Louise laughed, “Here we are! Stalls. please, Mr. Millionaire. I wouldn’t be seen tonight in the ‘seats of the mighty.” John risked a reproof, however, and was fortunate enough to find a disen- gaged box. They devoted their atten- tion to the show, Louise and Sophy at first with only a moderate amount of interest, John with the real enthusiasm of one to whom. everything is new. His laughter was so hearty, his appyecia- tion so sincere, that his companions found it infectious, and began to ap- plaud everything. “The bioscope,” Louise at last de- cided firmly, “I refuse to have anything tertainment you are going to hav evening, Mr. Countryman.” Aaa “Now for supper, then,” he proposed. “Luigi's,” Sophy declared firmly. “The only place in London.” They drove toward the Strand. John looked around him with interest as they entered the restaurant. Luigi, who came forward to welcome Sophy, escorted them,to one of the best tables, “You must be very nice to this gen+ tleman, Luigi,” she said. “He isa very great friend of mine, just arrived in London. He has‘come up on purpose to see me, and We shall probably de- elde- to make this our favorite restau- rant.” ‘y . “I shall be vairy happy,” Luigl de- clared, with a bow. “I am beginning to regret, Mr. Strangewey, that I ever introduced you to Sophy,” Loulse remarked, 4s she sank back into her chair. “You won't believe that all my friends are as frivolous as this, will you?” “They aren't,” Sophy proclaimed con- fidently. “I am the one person who succeeds in keeping Louise with her feet upon the earth. She has never had supper here before. Dry biscuits, hot milk, and ‘a’ volume of poems are her relaxation after the theater. She takes herself too.seriously.” “I wonder «if I do!” Louise mur- mured, as she‘tielped herself to caviar. She was suddenly pensive. Her cyes seemed to be looking out of the res- taurant. Sophy was exchanging ameni- ties with a little party of friends at the next table, “One must..sometimes be serious,” John remarked, “or life would have no poise at all.” if “I have a friend who scolds me,” she confided. “Sometimes he almost loses patience with me. “He declares that my attitude toward life is too analytt- eal. When hi comes my way, I shrink back,. I*kéep:my emotions in the background; while my brain works, dissecting, wondering, ‘speculating. Per- haps what he says is true. I believe that if one gets into the habit of an- ; alyzing too ree to do with. You have had all eat nize and embrace the great things when they come.” “I think you have been right,” John declared earnestly. “If the great things come as they should come, they are overwhelming, they will carry you off your feet. You will forget to specu- late and to analyze. Therefore, I think you have been wise and right to wait. You have run no risk of having to put up with the lesser things.” She leaned toward him across the jose-shaded table. For those few sec- mds they seemed to have been brought nto.a wonderfully intimate cémmunion of thought. A wave of her hair almost couched his forehead, His hand boldly ‘ested upon her fingers, “You talk,” she whispered, “as if we were back upon your hilltop once nore!” He turned his head toward: the little orchestra, which was playing a low and cremulous waltz tune. “I want to believe,” he sald, “that you can listen to the music here and jet live upon the hilltops.” i “Ale though my heart was almost sick with ‘onelinéss, I do not think that I should “You Talk,” She Whispered, “as if We Were Back Upon Your Hilltops Once More!” be here if I did not believe it. I have not come for anything elee, for any lesser things, but. to. find—” For once his courage failed him. For once, too, he failed to understand her expression, She had drawn back a lit- tle, her lips were quivering. Sophy. broke suddenly in upon-that moment.of suspended speech. “I knew how ‘it would be!” she ex- claimed. “I leave you both alone fot less than a minute, and there you sit, as grave as two owls./ I ask you, now, is this the place to wander off into the clouds? When two people sit looking at each other as you were doing a min- | ute ago, here in Luigi’s, and a supper, ordered regardless of expense, on the table before them, they are either with- out the least sense of the fitness of things, or else—” “Or else what?” Louise asked. “Or else they are head over heels in ¢ love with each other!” Sophy con cluded. “Perhaps the child fs right,” Louise essented tolerantly,. taking a peach from the basket by her side. “Evident- to the frivolity of the moment. What shall we do to bring. ourselves into ac- cord with it? , Everybody seems to be | behaving most disgracefally. “Do you think jt would contribute to the gayety, chorus of ‘You Made Me Love You,’ the young gentleman at the next tal and throw a roll,-say, dt the-p ly it Is our duty to abandon ourselves! of the evening if I'were to join in the} and Mr. Strangewey were to imitate “ought’to"be thankful all your ‘that you have: met me and that I am disposed to take an interest in you,” Sophy remarked, as she moved: her chair a little nearer to John’s. “I am quite sure that in a very short time you would have become—well, almost a prig. Providence has selected me to work out your salvation.” “Providence has been very kind, then,” John told her. “TI hope you mean it,” she returned. “You ought to, if you only understood the importance of light-heartedness.” The lights were lowered a few min- utes later, and. John paid the bill. “We've enjoyed our supper,” Louise whispered, as they passed down the room. “The whole evening has been delightful!” As they drove from Luigi’s to Knightsbridge, Louise leaned back in her corner. Although her eyes were only half closed, there was an air of aloofness about her, an obvious lack of desire for conversation, which the oth- ers found themselves instinctively re- specting. Even Sophy’s light-hearted chatter seemed to have deserted her, somewhat to John’s relief. They were in the very vortex of London’s midnight traffic. The night was warm for the time of year, and about Leicester square and beyond the pavements were crowded with pedes- trians, the women lightly and gayly clad, flitting, notwithstanding some sin- ister note about their movements, like butterflies or bright-hued moths along the pavements and across the streets. The procession of taxicabs and auto- mobiles, each with its human freight of men and women in evening dress on their way home after an evening’s pleasure, seemed endless, Presently Sophy began to talk, and Louise, too roused herself. “T am only just beginning to realize,” the latter said, “that you are actually in London.” . “When I leave you,” he replied, “T, too, shall find it hard to believe that we have actually met again and talked.: ‘| There seems to be so much that I have to say,” he added, looking at her close;,, ly, “and. I, have said nothing.” eal “There is plenty of time,” she. told him, and once more the signs of that slight nervousness were apparent in her manner, “There are wecks aod months ahead of us.” “When’ shall I see you again?” he asked. “Whenever you like. There are no re- hearsals for a day or two, Ring me up on the telephone—you will find my number in the bodk—or come and lunch with me tomorrow, if you like.” “Thank you,” he answered; “that is just what I should like. At what time?” “Half past one.’ ‘I will not ask either of you to come in how. You income down tomorrow 1 books,. Sophy,;,,.1, think ; | : tired,” she added, with,a gurious ttre note.of self-pityiin hertone. (“I ant very glad to have seen you again, Mr. Strangeweg)” she-satd, lifting her eyes to his: “Good. night !" He helped her dut;'rang the bell, and ‘watched’ her Vanlsti' through ‘the swift- ly opened door. Then‘ he stepped: back into the'taxtcab. Sophy retreated into the corner to make room for him, “You aré going to take me home, are you not? vahie i, ‘ uree,”| Sept hia eyes‘stilt fixed with a shade of regret, upon thé closed door of Louise's little House. “No, 10 Southampton.street,” the driver. sad | They turned round and spun once more into the network of moving ve- hicles and streaming pedestrians. John was silent, and his companion, for a little while, humored him. Soon, how- ever, she touched him on the arm. A queer gravity had come into her dainty little face. “Are you really in love with Lou- Ise?” she inquired, with something of his own directness. i He ‘answered her with perfect seri- ousness, “TI believe so,” he admitted, “but I should not like to say that I am abso- lutely. certain, I haye come here to find out”... \ is Sophy suddenly rocked with laugh+ ter. “You are the dearest, queerest mad- man I have ever met!” she exclaimed, holding tightly to his arm. “You ‘sit there with a face as long as a fiddle, wondering whether you are in love with a girl or not! ‘Well, I am not go- ing. to ask you anything more, Tell me, are you tired?” s “Not a bit,” he declared. “I never had such.a ripping evening in my life.” She held his arm a little tighter. She was the old Sophy again, full of life and gayety. “Let's_go to the Aldwych,” she sug- gested, “and see the dancing. We can just have something to drink. We needn't have any more supper.” The cab stopped a few minutes later outside. what’ seemed to be a private house. “The door was opened at once. Sophy“ wrote John’s name in a book, atid they, were ushered by the manager, who liad-come forward to greet them, into a long room, brilliantty lit, and filled, except In the center, with sup- per tables. John looked around him wonderingly. popping of cham- pagne ‘corks wasalmost incessant. A slightly. voluptuous atmosphere of cigarette smoke, mingled with the per- fumes shaken from @he clothes and hair of the “women, several more of whom were now daricing, hung about the place. A girl in fancy.dress was passing a great basket of flowers from table to table. Sophy sat with her head resting upon hershands and her face very close to her ‘companfon's, keeping time with her “Ysn't thig-rather nice?” she whis- Port 5 .fDajyou like being here with mb, ies John Strangewey?” “Of course I do,” he answered heart- ily. “Isithis a restaurant?” She shook her head. “No; it’é.aclub. We can sit here all night; if you like.” “Cah I join?” he asked. . Jaughédas she-sent for a form : begged, as he lpeked {ook So pretty and “well-divssed, yet so amazingly. young to be out at this time of night,” “Mostly actresses,” ‘she replied, “and tusical-comedy girle, I was in musi- 2al comedy myself before Louise res- sued me.” “Did you like it?” “J Iiked it, all right,” she admitted, “but I left: it because I wasn’t doing any good. I can dance pretty well, but {have no yolce, so there didn’t seem to be any chance of my getting out of the chorus ; and one can’t even pretend to live on the salary they pay you, un- less one has a part.” “But these girls who are here to aight?” 3 “They are with their friends, of course,” she: told him. “I suppose, if It hadn’t been for Louise, I showld have been here, too—with a friend.” “] should like to see you dance,” he remarked, in a hurry to change the conversation. “Pll dance to you. some day {nm your rooms, if you like,” she promised, “Or would you like me to dance here? There is 2 man opposite who wants me to. Would you rather I didn’t? I want to do just which would please you most.” x “Dance, by all means,” he insisted. “T should like to watch you.” She nodded, and a .minute or twa later she had joined the small crowd in the center of the room, clasped in the arms of a very immaculate young man who had risen and bowed to her from a table opposite, John leaned back in his place and watched her admiringly. Hor feet scarcely touched the ground. She never once glanced at or spoke to her partner, but eyery time she passed the corner wherg John was sitting, she looked at him and smiled, His eyes grew brighter, smiled back at her, leased her hold upon her partner and stretched out her arms to him. Her body swayed backward a little. She waved her hands with a gesture in- finitely graceful, subtly alluring. Her lips, werg parted with a,smile,almost of AMPH A, she once, more, nested her hand, upon. her partner's shoplder. “Who is: your escort this evening?” the laffer asked her, speaking almost for the first time. “You would not know him,” she re- plied. “He is a Mr. John Strangewey, and he comes from Cumberland.” “Just happens that I do know him,” the young man remarked. . “Thought I'd seen his face somewhere, Used to be up at the varsity with him. Fil speak to him presently.” “I expect he'll be glad to meet you again,” Sophy remarked, “He doesn’t know a soul in town.” The dance was finished. They re- turned together to, where John was and he weary han@iiess sil) to ssiqe “Amorton) ‘you kndW)'6f Mbigdalen,” he. sald. “You'd! SttatkeWey, aren't 'you?” Hore! fas “Lord Amerton, of course!” John ex- claimed. “I thought your face was fa- miliar.- Why, we played in the rackets doubles. together!” “And won ’em, thanks to you,” Amer- ton replied. “Are you up for long?” “I am not quite sure,” John told him. “I only arrived last night.” “Look me. up some ‘time, if you've nothingbetter toido,” the:young man suggestedy\\“Whereate youhanging outs bebulout stesug oft “pte MII” 100) Jo1sg 16H “Lam at the Atbany!"Sd1ong! Must get back to my little lady.” He bowed to Sophy and departed. She sank a little breathlessly into her chair and laid her hand on John’s arm. Her cheeks were flushed, her bosom was rising and falling quickly, “I am out of breath,” she sald, her head throwa back, perilously near to John's shoulder. “Lord Amerton dances well. Give me some champagne!” “and you—you dance divinely,” he told her, as he filled her glass. “If we were alone,” she whispered, “I should want you to kiss me!” The stem of:the wine glass in John's fingers snapped stddenlyahd'the wine! Swidkied down to the! for) '!A passing Walter HGtried up Witla napiib, and a “If We Were Alone,” She Whispered, “I Should Want You to Kiss Mel” fresh glass was brought. The affair was scarcely noticed, but John re mained disturbed and a little pale. “Have’ you cut your hand?” Sophy asked anxiously. “Not at all,” he assured her. “How hot it is here! Do you mind if we go?” “Go?” she exclaimed disconsolately. “I thought you were enjoying yourself so much!” : “So I am,” he answered, “but I don’t quite understand—” He paused. “Understand what?” she demanded. “Myself, if you must know.” She set down the glass which she had been in the act of raising to her lips. (To be continued.) ure théke girls? They Try a Tribune want ad for results. 4 She suddenly re- - 4 sitting,.andithe young ma: held out a.