Evening Star Newspaper, December 8, 1929, Page 117

With a shadow of her future dignity and the bonelessness of a cat, she rose, and the slave girls brought a marvelous robe of stiff golden brocade, buttoned from threat to ankle with little round balls. The sleeves were narrow and tight-fitting, almost hidden by the heavy brace- lets. Rows of gold necklaces covered her bosom and a cap of stiff metal embroidery con- cealed most of her pink hair. She carried a handkerchief of magenta silk, the size of a small tablecloth, the hem of her dress was sewn with bells, and she wore primrose leather Russian boots. Her sisters regarded her with enchanted eyes. *“She is lovely,” they said, “but so thin!” Here is the source of all feminine worry in the East. Each maiden knows that to attain that perfection of beauty symbolized by many curves, she must gorge. Really there is no other word that expresses it. Beauty in prim- itive Arabia is as much a question of food as it is in America. The cream is skimmed from the camel’s milk for the marriageable daughters. The fatlest dates, those melting stoneless bits of amber and honey, are set aside for them. They must not walk or think or worry on the way to their goal of fat, which is synonymous with marriage. N SEVERAL occasions, while traveling in the deserts, disguised as a native woman— I always claimed that my grandmother was a Circassian slave in the harem of the Bey of Tunis, to account for my grey eyes and to give me the glamour of social position—sheiks have contemplated adding me to their household. The conversation with my headman, or caravan leader, has generally run likg this: “Her eyes are like sunshine flashing on swords drawn in battle, but she is thin as my two fingers.” “There is food to spare in the house of my lord.” my retainer would reply politely, “Thanks be to Allah, but much tim: will be spent on the fattening.” “There are no hours in the desert.” “It will cost much to feed her. By Allah, I cannot give more than three camels for one s0 starved.” An old, a very old sheik of the Syrian Me- touelis offered me a whole tribe if I would wed him, but with the proviso: “You must sit still for three months to get fat.” During my most unsuccessful attempt to per- form the pilgrimage to Mecca, I made friends with a Bedouin family, and the old father, having tasted my egg-and-spice specialty, ap- preved of me. “¥You shall marry my son,” he said. “I like Circassian women and I have always wanted the boy to wed a good ccok, but™—he regarded me doubtfully, “he must not see you, for, being young, he dreams of beauty.” His gesture was THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, DECEMBER 8§, 1929. 2o cffl s 1 oS I, e -+ “Wallahi! She is beautiful!” murmured the hand-maidens, sitting back on their heels to regard the worl: of art. expressive of many curves, each one vaster than the last. I believed King Khama of Bechuanaland con- sidered that the wife of the governor—who, alas! had to go sideways through any ordinary doorway—was the only white woman in Rho- desia “worth cows.” “Her hips are so heavy that she sways like a flower. Her chin is a ball, cuppad in butter,” sings an early Arab poet of his beloved. Always when I stay for any length of time in a harem, kindly women, distressed at my 1 he Sea Devil’s Tales. Continued jrom Eighteenth Page They swore they had sunk submarines. And they kept the King of England’s solid gold watches and were happy. After that the British admiralty gave the order that no steamer should ram a periscope until they saw that the periscope was diving. ‘When we learned this then we thought, “By Joe, we'll let those skippers get some more gold watches.” And we got up another awful trick. ‘We made a «dummy that looked just like a periscope and conning tower when floating in the water. They had big mines on them too. ‘We put these on decks of submarines, cne to a U-boat, so that the submarines cculd turn them loose. And now the skipper is sailing along. “By Joe, there is a periscope, and, what the hell? He doesn’t see us. He is coming to the surface. His conning tower is coming up. ‘This time we will get a gold watch from the King." The steamer rams--bang! The real subma- rine ran away frem the vicinity after loosing the dummy conning tower, and there is nothing to ram but the mine. 3y the time this happened a couple of times the British got tired of this ramming, getting blown up, gold watch business. They ordered the skippers to keep a close watch and not try any ramming unless they were perfectly sure. Also the King wasn't going to give any more gold watches. The skippers themselves were getting tired of this ramming, and after that the merchant steamers turned the other way when they saw a periscope, and left the ram- ming to the destroyers. THE British had two buoys at the entrance : of the Thames with lights to guide the pas- sage of ships. They were hollow, and at inter- vals a man went to them, got into them and fixed the lights and replaced batteries. We had an idea that we would like to have a lookout post at the mouth of the Thames—a very convenient place, by Joe. So we fixed up a scheme. A submarine went at night to one of the buoys, opened it, and put a young officer in with a supply of provisions and with pillows on which to sleep. Then the submarine laid a light cable back to our baze at Zeebrugge. in Belgium. The officer in the buoy kept watch and reported everything by telephone. We had mine-laying submarines, and the British had to keep a mine-sweeping force busy all the time. A convoy of ships would put out of the Thomes. Mine sweepers would go out first and sweep for mines, and when the sweeping was over they would signal “All clear.” The officer in the buoy would wait till the mine sweeping was. completed and then he would signal to a mine-laying submarine which was lying in readiness. The submarine would go in and, while submerged, let loose a lot more mines in the water that had been swept. Now the big convoy comes down—bang! One ship hits a mine and starts to sink. Instantly " the signal is given, “Stop! Mines!” The squad- ron goes back. The commander of the mine sweepers gets hell, by Joe, and.is told to go back and do a good job. And he goes back and sweeps and sweeps. Not a mine can possibly be there. When he is through he reports that the pas- sage is positively clear. Meanwhile, the officer in the buoy is signaling for more mines to be laid in the waters that had been so thoroughly swept. More mines are laid. The convoy . comes down again—bang! And another ship is lost. That kind of business went on until the British naval men, at first greatly puzzled, man- aged to figure out what had happened. THE British fleet lay safely in harbor at Scapa Flow. The entrance was well pro- tected, and our submarines could not get In to take torpedo shots at the big ships. But, by Joe, we cooked up an idea for getting some mines in. Floating mines, you know, will drift with the tide, and if our submarines laid mines at the entrance, they would go drifting in. The only trouble was that they would drift a short dis- tance and then would drift out. If the tide had always just continued going in, it would have been all right. However, we built some mines that had a good deal of intelligence. They had clockwork mechanisms that made them work this way: They were set and dropped in at full low tide, and when the tide began to rise the mines drifted in. Six hours later the tide turned and began to run out. At this point the clockwork in the mines caused them to sink and liz at the bottom, where they would not drift. After six hours more, when the tide was beginning to rise again, the mines rose, too, and drifted in some more. In that way they worked their way.into the great harbor where the British grand fleet lay at anchor. One night—bang!-—and a patrol boat hit a mine. How could mines be in the harbor? They thouzht it must be a submarine that had torpedoed the craft. Submarine in the har- bor, by Joe. And the destroyers camg charg- ing, chasing all over the water for the supposed U-boat. Bang and then another bang, and a couple of destroyers were blown up. Then they began to suspect mines. It tvas thus that the great British battleship Bulwark was blown up. We had expected to gt a battleship or two, although the great craft were lying at anchor. You know how a ship swings at anchor with the tide. We hoped that some of our mines that sneaked away in would cross the path of one of the British giants as she swung with the tide. And so the Bulwark went. a Aye, they played plenty of tricks during the war. Theze that I have described are not generally known. Some of them are not in the official accounts and. are merely told in naval circles in Germany. But gradually now they are becoming a part of the rumor and legend of the Great War. {Copyright, 1929.) resemblance to an anatomical specimen, offer me a thick evil-smelling paste, which they in- sist will make me resemble the full moon. One girl naively assured me that I looked like an “undressed snake,” and I could not convince her that this was our ambition in the West. “Cover yourself,” she said, “for, often, a man is deceived by many clothes.” The climax of all this came in Damascus, where I had been introduced for the night into a sheik's harem. The sheik had a dozen wives of all ages and races. The oldest was white- haired and shriveled. The younge:t was a child of thirteen with apple cheeks. I lcoked into grey eyes, brown eyes, dark-rimmed, marvelous green eyes, and all eyes looked at me: eyes young with hope, tired with age, mystic with motherhood. Finally one of the wives came forward to cheer me. “You are sweet, so sweet,” she said, “and tomorrow I will give you a paste that will make you fat, so fat that a man will give many camels for you.” (Copyright, 1929.) Doggy Romance—.A Story. Continued jrom Sizteenth Page Queen and walked rapidly up to the Jennings home. King was nowhere in sight. “Suppose Tom's taking him to the office now,” she thought, and opening the gate she put Queen inside and continued her walk. “Mrs. Jennings'll never recognize her, but Tom will,” she thought, “and when he brings her home I'll get a peep at him, anyhow.” ALL EVENING she wandered back and forth between the telephone and the front door. Finally, about 10 o’'clock, she telephoned Tom. “I'm in trouble, Tom,” she replied to his exclamation of surprise. “I've lost Queen, and I thought you might try to find her for me.” “How did you lose her?” he inquired. “Well, we took a walk and——" “Ever hear of a leash?” he asked. “Yes, but Tom, you know how Queen is, so headstrong.” “Sure, I know. Tl look around for her.” But at midnight he returned, looking tired and unhappy, to report that he had been un- successful in his search. “I'll stay here tonight,” he said. probably be back in the morning.” Betty prayed that Queen never would come back, but in the morning there she stood at the kitchen door. “Well, you'll be all right now,” said Tom, and without even a formal goodby, he was gone. The next day, a small electric heater arrived for the bathroom ,and Betty smiled to herself, “Poor old Tom,” she sighed. “He always did hate the cold.” The janitor never got the steam on very early since Tom wasn't there complaining. Then a week went by, and another. No word from Tom. Betty watched her chance, and once more pushed Queen into the Jennings back yard. “Funny,” she thought, “that King is never around any more.” This time she waited until quite late before telephoning Tom. “Suppose you don’t like being there all alone,” he said cordially, “I'll be right over.” Betty prepajed the most tempting breakfast she knew, and when Tom left for the office, Queen had not yet returned. “I'll call you tonight and see if she's back,”, he promised. “Better come for dinner, Tom,” she sug- gested, feeling certain Queen would be there, and that the silly program would have to start all over again. “Sure. All right,” h2 agreed. do get lonesome.” Betty spent the whole day planning and pre- paring dinner. She was so busy, in fact, that she didn’t notice that Queen had not put in an appearance untl Tom came, carrying a suit case. “Thought I'd stay until the hound turns up,” he said, looking a bit guilty. “Oh, Tom, that’s lovely.” She couldn't trust herself to say more. Tears of joy were very close to the surface. “Suppose you At the end of the week when the neighbors had stopped looking and wondering, Betty's brother-in-law dropped in. “Well, well, well,” he cried, “if it isn’t Tom! How’s King these days?” Betty sat down weakly on the daverfport. It was the first time the dog had been mentioned. “I gave him to a fellow in the country,” said Tom casually. “He barked too loud.” He didn't add that the sight of King had reminded him constantly of his quarrel with Betty, and that he had deliberafely sold the dog for his own peace of mind. “Why in the world didn't you let me know?*” cried the brother-in-law, “I'd have given a lot for that dog.” Tom hesitated a minute, then called him aside and a whispered conference ensued. “There’s nothing anywhere near as hand= some as King, you know,” was a!' Betty heard, “but there are four of them and they're nice puppies.” 4 “Tom, where do you suppose Queen all this time?” asked Betty when they were 3 He looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you prefer Queen's society to mine?” “No, no, Tom,” she cried, “I just hope she never comes back, that's all.” SHE never did, but the next morning Mrs, ° Jennings came, carrying something in her arms which looked like a baby wrapped im & blanket. “Now here, you two,” she said, “is a little gift for you, and I hope you won't quarrel over it. A man came last night and bought Queen and the other three puppies, but I couldn’t resist keeping this one for you.” Betty's eyes were big and round as she peeped in at the little speck of wriggling, squirming dog. “Tom,” she cried, “it looks just lik: Queen.” “Tom, look.” “It looks like King,” he said with finality. “All right then. darling, we'll call it little King, which would be Prince, wouldn't it?” “No, dear,” he insisted, “we'll call it little Queen, which would be Princeéss.” “Here, you'll feed it with this,” interrupted . Mrs. Jennings, setting down a bottle with a nipple. “It's only a week old, remember.” “And by the way,” she added, “its name is Susie.” (Copyright, 1929.) Greater Than Colosseur® THE recent crowd of 123,000 who saw a foot ball game at the Leland Stanford Stadium was just 36,000 too large to have been accome modated in the old Roman Colosseum, the greatest of the Roman amphitheaters, The Colosseum was begun by Vespasian and finished by Titus in 80 AD. It was 612 feet long and 515 feet wide. The opening ceree monies in the huge amphitheater were cone ducted on a grand scale and lasted for 100 days, during which it is estimated that 5,000 wild beasts were slain in the sport. -r