The Bismarck Tribune Newspaper, April 21, 1919, Page 4

¢ | THt BISMAKC K TRIBUNE Entered ut the Postoffice, Bismarck, N. D., as Second Class slate. D. MANN . - G. LOGAN PAYNE © NEW YORK, Fifth Ave utd; i Blug.; BOSTON, 3 Win Bidg.; MINNEAPOL ‘PAGE 4. GEORG": The for pu eres «1 this paper and also the local news’ published c ar Al! mgbts of publication of special dispatches herein are resei ved. «MBER AUDIT BUREAU OF CIRCULATION $1 .SCRIPTION. RATES PAYABLE IN ADVANC! Dai, vy carrier per year .......... sees Das, by mail per year (In Bismarck) . Dauy by mail per year (In state outside Daily by mail outside of North Dakota . THE STATE'S OLDEST NEWSPAPER. (Established 1873) <p | —————— WHATS THE MATTER WITH THE GOVERNMENT? The American republic has just astounced the} world by its accomplishment in war. The democ-' racy they said was inefficient has proved the! spirit of action, the soul of bravery, the heart of | achievement. | In a confli¢t in which all the other nations; transcended the impossible time after time, the United States caused the hardened veterans of | the allies to stand agape at the performance of supposedly green troops and played an important} part in cr | E 7.20 shing the most formidable military | machine civilization had ever seen. OUR soldier boys, and to pay for bringing back those who already have returned. When that is done the job will be finished. And not until then. 3 We can’t avoid it and we can’t evade it. We cannot shift the burden. ‘It is ours. It is our pa- sacrificed far more than we to win the war. The unfinished business of this war lies before us.. The Victory Loan is the, implement with which we may finish the job. We were not slack- ers from April 6, 1917, to November 11, 1918; Shall we be slackers now? WHEN WETNESS SQUISHES THROUGH YOUR SHOES Squash, slush, squiggle—oooooh, what a dis- tressing sensation wet shoes are: Every step you take on the streaming pavement sends another trickle of wetness squishing through your shoes. Every step you take sends another apprehensive chill chasing up and down your spinal cord like an| expert pianist runnnig off a bunch of practice scales. Squiggle, squiggle, squish—you leave a damp trail behind when you finally enter the office and, squashing up to your desk, you stamp vigorously as though that will take all the dampness out of your shoes. An unexpected but decidedly vocifer- ous sneeze sends you palpitating to the radiator where you uncomfortably jam your feet against | the heat disseminator and wait to warm ’em up. The soles of your shoes dry out quickly and creak with the heat. But inside your shoes the damp-| Evidence multiplies that America had just be- gun to bring her terrifying reserve power to bear | and that performances verging on the miraculous) were expected at once. { In short, the United States of America has just | demonstrated that it is the most nearly perfect} political organization ever created. And now comes the suggestion that all this be} thrown away, that the good of all the American | system of government be discarded because of de-| fects found here and there in it. | There are Americans who listen to that sug-| gestion and give credence to the line of reasoning that bolsters it'up. They are, for the most part, those persons’ who were slowest to realize Amer-| .ica’s duty. toward the world in the war. Let the challenge be hulled against the tra- ducers of'the American government that they shall) produce one full and complete example of a state) that is more desirable than this republic before] allowed to preach reform by violence. ht 7 ; SSeing | LET’S FINISH THE JOB | On, the sixth of April,1917, the people of the; ‘United States entered the war. From that day! until the eleventh of November, 1918, we Ameri-| -¢ans kept our shoulders to the wheel of endeavor.; =e sayed and, sacrificed. We toiled and fought. HWe struggled ‘wholé-hearted:and well toward the “goal of victory. We laid ‘aside all other things Sand concentrated upon winning the war. War be- came ourichiefand foremost: business. We are not yet finished with it. For this job was not only a task of manufac-! turing munitions of war, uniforms, ships and the| transportation of supplies and troops across the Atlantic. It was not only a matter of firing guns ‘mid-winter cold shower bath. ness lingers around like the remembrance of aj Another startled sneeze causes you to gulp| with dismay. You look around quickly to see if any sly “flu” germs «re hovering near, but you find that the only individuals watching you are the grinning office people who seem to be experi- encing a great delight in your misery. Your shoes continue creaking and shrinking. Presently your feet feel like they were in a vise. You realize that you are unbelievably uncomfort- able and you feel like you’re going to have a chill} that will rattl the rafters. You phone your wife! that you feel so badly you are coming home. She s: “I told you so. Next time it rains you'll do as 1 tell you and wear your overshoes.” You say yes, that you’ve learned your lesson and that next time you surely will wear your overshoes. But—and this is the sadest thing about wet shoes —you never do!, ,-- ee) sD LONG FLOWING WHISKERS {This did not get into the newspaper, maybe for lack of space, or maybe because no such thing ever happened, but anyhow it was circulated among New York newspaper men along Park Row. But according to the story, if Seems that one Sam Bengogan, of the lower-east side, while still under fourand 40;-hasa long beard which extends far below his waist. eed It is now a matter of court record that he-never used a razor or otherwise cut his beard, he being a member of some far eastern religious cult that stands against any steel instrument being applied to any part of the body. Sam filed court complaint against a member and going over the top. It included the financing of our part in the war. This financial obligation) began with our entry into the war. But it did! not cease with the signing of the armistice. It| will not end until the boys have been returned| to their homes; until Uncle Sam has paid all of | his—AMERICA’S—vwar bills. | That is why we Americans owe it to ourselves! and our government to lend of our dollars in the Fifth Liberty Loan, which is our FIRST VICTORY! SLOAN. This will be our last chance to lend money - in a popular subscription campaign to the govern- ment, for the financing of this war. Billions of dollars had to be spent during the months we fought because we had to prepare rap- idly; we had*to rush into the fray at top-most! speed at a-‘moment when France was weakening and Great Britain was unable tu bear the strain} alone. It is true that we wasted money, but we} hastened. We won. And this, after all, is the main thing. | These war bills, the demobilization of our army, and the returning of our boys from foreign lands back to their homes and civilian life, are our chief concern. Most of the billions we are now asked to lend has been spent, and it remains for our gov-| ernment to borrow the money from citizens, to} pay up the bills, and then commence reducing the size of the national debt by taxation. Our war debt must be paid. Not a living per-; son in this country can escape paying his or her Bhare. We will pay that war debt when we wear clothes, eat food, when we play and when we work. - Our children’s children will pay. For years we will “pay, pay, pay. That is taxation. «This Victory Loan is NOT taxation. It is Jmerely a method whereby the government fi- , Mances its obligations until they are paid. The government might (step in and raise the entire ‘amount by taxation, levying heavy upon every ‘person. At prefers to pass the burden of payment Jover a period of years, thus lightening the imme- Joad. To do this, there must be money: bor- sd who, better than of themselves, should this country borrow money Tp © than to themselves, should they pay n'of America, now are asked ‘That, in substance, ist ¥ of an east side fire company charging assault and disorderly conduct, for according to the testimony, Sam alleged that he stood watching the fire ap- paratus go by, that he got too close, that the suc- tion by reason of the speed of the vehicle drew his whiskers out and that they were grabbed by one of the firemen on the running board. Sam was forced to run several blocks along side the fire wagon much to the glee of the firemen and the throng along the way, “and thereby caus- ing him much pain, chagrin and deep humiliation by reason of his being publicly subjected to ridi- cule”—this last being an exact quotation from the formal court complaint. * Sam only saved himself, and his whiskers, by jumping on the running board of the wagon when it was forced to slow down for a cross street. As not a witness testified that a hair of Sam’s whiskers had been harmed, the judge dismissed the offending fireman with a severe reprimand— said reprimand being accompanied by many winks and grimaces to restrain laughter. S And all of which is a reminder that it is about time for our annual editorial on long flowing whiskers. It seems that among English merchants there is this maxim: “When they begin cutting their cues and whiskers it’s about time for us to go after their trade.” And which is just another way of saying civili- zation follows! the razor and other whisker and hair mowing devices. triotic duty ; our solemn obligation to our boys who; l HE PUT IT IN HIS PIPE: AND ll ¥ “The:-RéalAdventure,” : Phen she decided that the pofatoes fade boled long ehough, and begat peeling them. me And then, half-way through her. sec- stairs... If wasn’t Alfred. It .couldn’t be. It wasn’t time—not for fifteen s step? He was —slowly, as though facy down: in the crook of her>arm She? was so limp she was sure s couldn’t stand up. But when slie heard doorway of the kitchen she saw’ him standing in the other. She saw his gaze tra daze with a strange unrealizing wistfulne chair, and the little spring rocker with its fringe trimmings opposite it, to the table with the lamp in the middle. and the red checked , table-cloth. was’ comnig around to her now, But fill up with tears. - . heard him saying her name, just as her voice broke-over his, and then, some- how, they were in each other's arms. “Tighter!” she snid. They had their talk, to be sure, bit it wasn't until a good denl later. You can compute roughly how much later, frem the fact that the potatoes were stone cold, and had to be warmed up in the frying pan before th could begin their supper; that they ate at last. in the fuconstant and preoccupied manner of honeymoon lovers, and that w » But after all that, and-after they had rectified, temporaril Celia’s — total omi: ades, with a sheet pinned up over each of the two front wondows, they got down to a bathrobe _agd —bedroom-slipper tled together in the big hollow chair, 1 tgld each other all about evervthing: what they'd really meant by things they'd said and and what each had th meant, and what a pa: had been. And Cetla narrating, though not just as I have done here, how she‘d ent the time since Thursday mornin: At last, blissfully content, and a little dro , she began asking him ques. tions; if he was glad that it had all happened just as it had, down to the very Jeast particular. She was, she said. There was nothing, not the smali- est thing, that she would changed. She couldn't get: him to go as fast as that. ‘There we erthings I said tb you that night,” “he. insisted, “and basis, 8 Long flowing whiskers, according to compe- tent observers in all.times and climes, have never|~ been an attraction to the fair sex, for none of the great lovers in the entire history of literature have ever been bewhiskered. It seems that whiskers kave always been a de- vice of the old and middle aged to convey the im- pression of position, importance and wisdom. - Long flowing whiskers have never been worn by the young save the members of remote religious cults, as in the case,of Sam, or where it is desired to make an early impression of wisdom and which gave name to that style of whiskers some twenty years ago known as “the young doctor's pride.” ‘Whiskers have been used as a badge of idleness ¢|—whiskers so long as hot to permit of giye a good: deal to » that Id ,” she said, sitting up ‘, “is the very best part of it. That’s what’s doneyittall, don’t you see? We might have gone on for years and never—never really béén merried at all, if we hadn't, in our rage, turned in and torn the—the husks off each other, so that we could see what we really were. You were right about me you know, horribly right. That was what made me so farious. And it was true that you weren't the man I mar- ried. Oh, but it’s all right. silly, don’t you see? Because I’m not the girl you married, either.” He protested at this. She was the same Celia( only now, for the first time, he saw her with open eyes. But she, quite di toher point. “Su she insisted, sitting. ond potatoe, she heard a step on the minutes. But it was he! Didn’t she coming up he “was She dropped her knife and thesfork| that empaled the potato, and put=her | this fun the yloor open she did, and from the from one object to another about the room—from the bright stove with its glowing doors, to the big hollow easy It} before it reached her she saw his eyes !~ That was the last thing she saw. She} they washed up the: dishes in the same; things I—— couldn't quites deny 1} sci ssionately. tick | ii Bu Henry Kitchell Webster Author of : | ‘The Painted Scene,” Ete. pknow. w New oway if-you hadn’t come aloit ou, remeniber > not ‘proxi and self-contained, and—lon't ‘miiid--- jnoble at ull, but just raw and real and human. aud fighting mad, and turned her’ l ONE He stilt witti was very aliGH earnest ithout’ it. i ‘You must believe it,” she ‘insisted, {“And you must never forget :t~ You mustn’t. treat me like the old Celia. The old one never liked to be—n to things or people, but I do, I love it.” She paused to illustrate. I've just ome alive, don’t you see. and found {out what a wonderful thing it is. P—please say that you're new too. and that this, tonight, is the beginning of e beginning of everything,” “he “the former tilings had. passed | away, 4 So ends the first chapter of this epi- sode in the life of the Alfred Blairs. CHAPTER VIL INTERLUDE ‘We will ging,” the Preacher says, ‘the ‘first wild ‘third stdifza, omitting the ; Second.” : 18 B98 & There are three chapters in’ this fragment of Celia’s and Alfred’s story : but-we, af the conclusion of the. first, are going to proceed’ directly to the third. Blessed is the nation which has no history. And blessed, for the same Treason, is the family which doesn’t give the novelist a chance. The three months which followed and furn- | i r, Tye Alfred the outstandi {tl are old. I fan to eaclivother about tt ratrncnmetively it ty 7 pure romance—three golden honey- | wouns strung on aysuveL Ware. ind. Celia it re- still talk il Y a/romantic lark, or even & perilous close approach to pov- erty that is spelled by an income. for two ppople, of twenty-two and a half dollars a week. Bi | | But the irs were not really so poor as they made out. They had for | the present, plen' f good serviceable clothes; they had in’ certain prospect, though they carefully avoided looking at it, the income from their house. And., too, down in the bottom of the mind ot each, though neither ever admitted it. was the cons that this state. of things’ wi and. really terminabl is no denying that this con- sness changed the quality. of their adventure a little. spiced it utly-with the. flavor of. make-heliev It was easier, for exantple. to make a joke of it, when a mistake in the budget re- duced them, for four whole. days, to 2 famine ration; or to smile, as they stood together outside an enticing mo- tion picture theatre. around on North avenue, and had. férlornly, to admit that they had exhausted their amuse- ment appropriation for this week. I don’t mean that they-enj ‘experiences, They honest), gry. They endured a gen pointment over not seeing Charlie Chaplin in his burlesque of Geraldine Farrer, But these pr looked at as isolated phenomena, not us tuui, “about this new mode of life was, perhaps, its in- timacy. They <had «never lived in- timately before, and this fact’ had a deeper: ie catite than Celfa’s—the ‘Celia’ ‘aloofness or tier husband’s shyness; this was the »pirit-0fithe'-sy- itthgad, had to keep: in the processic i fast . | Inilitary Pte rant shee Out lat end when | Please don’t take me as saying that | I consider pore could” be | MOKED IT ey ys se, that does it. Th smaller group, just abs which has reached what it considers the summit, ican; afferd to relax a-little; can even, within’ rigorous limits, of course, make a feature of its indifference to what other peoplesthink of its actions. husbands, with/a summit in sight just he mumber and inments wer precis another more or nd) Junches ; riety of their ente! zimented with almost They gave . one ss. the same. dinner: they. followed one,-an- Ke, pi ne, Tere read... the , discussed the same ideas: cole —subyertved to the same ‘ds. { Well, and. intimacy was distinctly not good form ‘among them, The no- } tion sprang, perhaps the English aristoc tween husbands and es, the 7 difference. The sort of things they cisms. And this attitude carried itself over into their private life, an imposition guaranteed by their servants, who were hired from one house to another, and who formed/almost as close a so- ciety as they did. "That a husband elementary decency. ‘The.three-room flat, of caurse, put an end to all that:-in- more. senses. than one. Their one bedroom was just au room, prairie. ants. |. But the astonishing ¢ j they. made was that. this mate: that neither before. imacs ! of them had dreamed You_coutdn’t ‘pretend j poli long not their own, must be alwa: to. -Onsequence was that |things got said out. that they came {to know not only each other’s minds, but their own. They had occasional } sharp little quarrels, like the explosion of fire-crackers, during which | they suid and did things to each other which they. respectable friend: Tut the encount- fers left no after-effects ; ‘no. virtuous, now that they had « to live up to anythine, fun—a ‘rather rowdy, They stopped tryi to have real rough-and-tumh ive patronage of the movi their theory of it. anywa; The movies, of cour: only form of entertainment. extraofdinary : street-car rid amazing, you know, how amusing street-car ride can be to a jovially minded, rather outrageously behaved. | back seats and cuessing. in whispers, ; Most grotesquely and injuriously some- times, about the condition and business of other passengers. It is possible to work. a variant on the game. too. by getting on separately, at different ners, and then eluborately making each STHMA There is no “cure” but relief is often brought by— a But -Celia and her friends and_ their about: 8, ‘oper ;manner was one of rather- hostile in- were to say to each other when. others were about were sharp little witti- and wife should have separate rooms to dress and sleep in was a niatter of alcove, really, separable by curtains— as_yet_unproyided—from_ their- living When they” turned the key in the door ‘atthe*head ‘of’ the stairs, they, Were as secure against intrusion as a pair of pioneer settlers on a And they reverted, in-many respects to the simplicity \of the peas- covery that iu in: flowered into a spiritual’ in- acting with deference would inexpressibly have shocked their pair, snuggled together on one of the other’s acquaintincesto the scandal: of the car, and getting off together. Celia: was. reaily.shocked, though, one night, when Alfred suggested that they go toa dance hall. Certain friends of Celia’s, in her former incar- nation, made it, almost their one busi- ness in life to, crush out the dance-hall evil; or if not to crush it out, at least to step sharply and disconcertingly on its toes, and as a result of their re- ports of their slumming investiga- tions, Celia had got the idea that all dance- iquity ; Alfred confessed he didn’t know much about it himself, but he passed on the remark of a friend of his— ja man who knew the brightly lighted world very well: “The. majority of people in any of these places are de- cent. Or, at. least; they’re acting de- cently at any given moment.” He said that was what made all these stage land moving-picture productions of fast restaurants and tough dances so ridiculously unreal. They" probably ‘weren’t, Alfred concluded, so black’ as they were painted. Anyhow, he and Celia could try and see. {.. The, place they Hit upon was, to the eyes of their’ innacence at least, perfectly harmless—they never stay- ed very late, it’s true—and they en- joyed occasional evenings there pro- digiously. It was rather an extrava- gance, of course. The best amusement of all came a little later, when ‘the ‘fine spring weather really set in. Alfred came home, guiltily,. one’ night with two pairs of roller-skates. Neither of them had attempted this amusement since childhood, but, after one. experi- Jmental and rather painful evening, they got on very well, The park near by afforded, an admirable place for it. §ometimes they swung along arm in arm, _ rythmitically—romantically. Sometimes, in a scandulous fashion, they mixed themselves up in a mis- cellaneous game of tag.that.one was pretty sure to find going on in one of the larger squares. All told, there is no doubt that their standard of civ- ilizaiton: deteriorsted very ymueh. It was_ surprising how.’ much’ ’ younger they wot, bo iE hon Aa | This change in her hus] anid was an astonishing thing: to /Ceja. “The man I married,” she confided to him one night, leaning on her el- bows on the back of his chair, and getting both hands, with a good tight grip, into his hair—he was like a big |dog in enjoying the rougher and more unceremonidus sort of carresses—the man I married, you know, was middle- .|aged,'safe and-sane, and awfully dig- nified; ‘always’ wholly serious,’ the way Mrs. Humphrey Ward_ wanted her uncle Matthew to be. But you, you're just a big schoolboy—a rather outrageous sort. of schoolboy, too,” And, indeed, it was true that the way he .had been acting, all the evening, ever since .he’d come,, home from work, warranted the indictment, He: puzzled. her, though, by turn- ing; rather grave and reflective about it. She leaned down for a. better look at him, then came round and: culed ap in his Jap. ib “reared ob “Silly,” she said; “(don’t {Nuke «pre- tend you don’t know how;;d Joye, to haye you like that!" Ere - He ‘pulled, her, up in, a ‘voluminous embrace tht was still a little absent- minded. " And. ‘since, their lives, ina sharply| “No, it wasn’t that,” he said “1 suburbin “commanjty, ,were| was thinking ° of, something,,,2:-Your hey con-|, speaking of a schoolboy reminded, me ne do-}of it. You, know, lye been ‘trying, off and on, ever since this happened— ever since that Saturday night when I,found you here, to think what it was, like... t was like something, that had; ,Jhappened once before, I knew, but 1 couldn’t..get,,hold of it. Now I have, (To Be Continued.) RENTALS, We have calls every day for houses. Let us know what you have for rent. CITY INSURANCK AGENCY, Phone 220K. 415 1 wk ORIVE AWAY HEADACHE Rub, Musterole on, Forehead and Temples; A ly without’ the dan- headache remedy without the repens ee ee eo eee a cican, white ointment, is a clean, made with oil of mustard, Better than a ustard plaster and does not blister. *t affect stomach and heart, as some in- ternal medicines do. Furniture Upholstery Repat Re _ {finished and Packer tee 1weveccccccovevscodoccccoooooooooce HIGHEST PRICES PAID FOR At this season of the year when you are house clean- ing you should PHONE 358 and get our prices for pa- per, rags, bottles or old tals, j i -halls were sinks of unbridled jin- mt Used only externally, and in no way can. % i : o® ’ | t oo ‘ Px s . «4 » a EA)