Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, August 7, 1915, Page 11

crrepiTemay e Isenemy rrrEgIgess “any of these to be People Involved in the War By CHARLES H. PARKHURST. ‘There are factors in the European prob- lem less obvious than some, and which are certain to play a considerable part It is natural to lay in the final solution, the prime, even it not the exclusive, emphasis upon such resources as appeal to the eye and as are readily calculable, such as the = numerical strength of the competing forces, accumulation ot the material imple- ments of war and abundance of food supplies. Nor are cheaply estimated as contributions to ultimate success. There is no mili- tary officer but that will realize how large an element, of truth there is in the famous dictum of Napoleon that “God is on the side of the heavy battalione.” But history affords a number of marked illustrations of the fact that the scale may be turned hy means and appliances apparently ponderable than those just mentioned, and the wise man had an understands of this when he wrote that “the race not to the swift nor the battle to the strong.”’ 1f wé take into account. only the numer ical strength of Russia we are surprised at its inability to make head against the armies of the emperor. To those whos sympathies are with the allies, has proved a great disappointment and i likely to continue to prove such. There is no appreciable limit to the number of men Russia can put into the field, but, saying nothing of the relatively clplined cheracter of its soldiery, Russia does not mean to a Russian all that Germany means to a German. Its civilization is of a different type A Russian’s loyalty to the czar is a different thing from a Prussian’s lovalty to William. Buch considerations cannot be exactly measured or accurately weighed, but they tel' tremendously. The czar by a wise and genial policy might ! have established in the hearts of his peo- ple an even stronger attachment than Willlam would be able to do. for the natural tendency of the Russian is not Russia | undis- | | | HE ( B e IMAHA, SATURDAY, GUST 7, 1915, 11 Republished bv Special Arrange- ment with Harver's Bazar | Parents and | the Child | By Virginia Terhune Van De Water. (Copyright, 1415, ¢ Company.) The natural courtesy of small children is consplouous by its absence. Some mothers Inelst that to demand from & very small child good manners is un- kind. There are Deople who love Ehildren as {a class. Others love them, as they love grown people, for thelr atiractive and pleasing qualitics. The youngwter wha is ill-mannered is seidom lovable. We_ remark —sometimes with regret, more frequently with aolf-congratulation “that wo cannot ourselves as others | po0 us. 1 wonder if parenta cver see their children as others see them. Not often, |1 fanev. 1t they did they would teach them the swoet courtesies of life. A child ia no happler for being allowed [to eat 1tke a little pig inktead of like & small gentleman. We would uot have our havs and girls self-conecions prige, always thinking of thelr manners. Then let them learn from the first the cor- rect way to handle knife, fork and apoon, |to chew mnolselessly, to reply politely { when spoken to, in short to practice !sush behavior that they will always be H t ease in the best soclety they may be called upon to enter. Last week T was sitting on a frignd's veranda, chatting with two little girls. T had never met the parents of either. When I arose to go into the to get a bit of sewing, one of the chl rose to her feet and remained astanding unt!l 1 was gone. A few minutes later, as 1 returned to the veranda, T saw that she had resumed her seat, but as soon |as 1 approached she sprang up and stood {until T was once more seated. Then she sat down. Susanne Talbot has adapted the square veil of single mesh with circles embroidered by hand and uses it in a manner similar to the mourning vell, draping it over a Second Empire shape of old gold taffeta and holding it by a band of turquoise blue grosgrain ribbon drawn through a small mother-of-pearl buckle directly in the i front. | | Is there a significant meaning in the dove of corded silver which Suzanne Talbot hae per- mitted to alight on her hat of black satin? It ia the only suggestion of decoration on this very wide sailor shape, though a tiny fold of the satin outlines the edge of the top of the brim. Another toque shape Suszanne Talbot makes of dove plumes in a dark green tone. Though the shape is a flat, a certain height is attalned by raising the plumes on the left side. A band of dark green satin, identical in color with the plumes, reveals itself just where the hat rests on the head. simply to be loyal to his soverelgn, hwl = even to regard him with worshiptul af- fection. We may consider that the weak- ness which Russla has thus far demon- strated should be regarded by the czar as being in part a sort of retribution which he is suffering in return for the despotic distrust which he has shown to| his people. | Next to soldierly discipline, nothing counts,Jn, battle Uke loyalty to a’leader| .., = . and enthusiasm for the cause, and """iwhivtll::';:;..fiu' 1s edsy to say. And appears to be no sufficient reason why . .. el '"Mnnu those magic syllables either of those motives should ‘operate our grasp the pretty effectively in the heart of the average :‘_;‘“:‘:‘;:' U‘-at were unattainable if they Russian soldier. The efficiency of tho Pald for at the moment of pur- German army amazes the world and is'"-°C 100 many of us forget that there is to the allies a great grief; it is something % 47¥ Of reckoning in every department that it is difficult to analyze, and whose p:)'"- 3 continuance, therefore, it is impossible| o all We get we must pay. There i 5 to forecast. We might explain it by love % ’l"‘“" attached to overything. IAfe of country were it not for the German's) V28 nothing for nothing. If at the passion to emigrate and settle elsewhere, | TOMent you want a-certain possession No ome can tell what would happen . ®Nd You have not the means to pay for were the pressure suddenly removed that 1t—don‘t buy it. I have never seen tho holds the mass of the population under | TR of PAYINg for a Dair of shoes the day the weight of governmental ordinance ¥ &re sent to be resoled. If for some that makes itself felt in every aspect of |PCV and brightly desirable poesession you individual, soclal and political life. It 3™ compelled to pay a bit more than you is that that has compressed the German | ¢An afford, if its purchase means going army into an immense fighting machine, | Without & few other things, the fun of as Indifferent to assault as the Krupp, °Wning that delightful new thing will enginery which s hardly more mechan- | hoer and compensate you for the taxing ical than the artillery that work it. ‘Drk‘a you pay. The durability of the French army lies| But when it is worn and useless, when Keeping the Ledger i of Life . By, BEATRICE FAIRFAX. less In it numerical strength than in the | ¥ou are in need of new possessions, there | th Frenchman's thrift, his belief in unham- |8 the “Old Man of the Sea” of your debt pered Independence ,his passionate fond- |0 haunt you if at the time of purchase ness for France his memory of the year |YOU Pronounce that magic 0. AIl of this creates personal caliber ?m'or“;l::‘;‘m: LRSI R that differentiates the Frenchman of to- —whon you-get it. day from the Frenchman of fifty years | 1at Will bring in its wake many habits g0 almost as much as steel is differen- | °f frusality. No one can be extravagant tiated from putty. He olings to France | Y10 Rever goes into debt. The most with the fervid devotement of a |lOSmInSly extravagant person is likely to Schweitser clinging to his mountains, | % SUILY of nothing worse than deciding e o o ard to hoat. that | Which of several desirable things s most he does not know when he is beaten. '::‘k‘:.m:oi::dwlt“hl;m:.ml::t Vo The Englishman has taken the war very | U5C08 SR8 B0 ¢ he has the habit collectedly, but is st last stirring in bis | o¢'Do ne L e gos, dreame, and if the war lasts long enough | yrouie are not particularly Hhard to will become thoroughly awake, and once | gorm and good habits are just as easy awake he will not eleep till the finish. ¢ cer as are idle, useless ones, It is He is like a plece of knotted oak timber, 'nnen.lly & matter of personal choice slow to catch fire, but impossible to ex- ! whether one forms habits of extrava- tingulsh, with the grip of & bulldog Whose | gance and waste or of common-sense fri- instinct it is to die rather than let 80.!gqlity. And no step will insure your be- The following is Galsworthy’s character- | goming a sane person who is & good man- ization of him: ager and a wise purchaser than that of “I freely confess that from an esthetio paying for what you get when you get ‘t. Read It Here—See It at the Movies. 4 B Y yet gone to sleep. And, anyway, it was not in his mind to @isturb her now. That would be for later, when the train was in motion and the lights out. | to help convince her. He wasn't sure. | “If, sald Tommy, *“I can show you | their cave—if I can find it—then would at ease among the oushious. | Later, when the children had bade me goodby and taken their departure, I asked my hostess about them. She smiled at my question. “I know why you ask why they are' she said. It is becauss one has such pretty inanners, and the other mone at all. Tsn't that 1T “Yeos," 1 mcknowledged, “ft is. I fan- cled that they must come of familles in entirely different spheres.’ » “But they don't,” my friend inf me. ‘“The litlle girl whose courtesy is so marked is the daughter of a mother iwho has never permitted her to be dia- formula | th point of view the Englishman, devold of high lights and shadows, coated with drab, and superhumanly steady on his feet, 1s mot too attractive. But for the wearing, tearing, slow and dreadful busi- ness of this war, the Englishman, fight- ing of his own free will, unimaginative, humorous, competitive, practical, never In extremes, a dumb, inveterate optimist, and terribly tenacious, is equipped with vietory.” Matters thus tily specified do not stand out as conspicuously te the eye as certain others that are more frequently commented upon, but they all enter Into the problem and must not be dissociated from other more obvious factors. To the foregoing, however, it should be added that the purpose of God is one clement in the problem to which a large place should be accorded in the estimates of those who look upon the Almighty not as an inactive spectator of human events, but as one who rules in the midst of events and makes the activities of men the instruments of his intentions. ‘Without dogmatizing at all, it is enough to know that God's thought is toward ‘What is inspiring, that His interest is in it and that His energy Is exercieed along Khe line which His interest lays down, and that there is no use in. offering prayers that will cross that line; so that Whether the supplications of the Allles will tell with more effect than those of the Teutom, or vice versa, will depend upon which of the two it s that purposes of God, and which of the two it s that cherishes ideals most gclosely consonant with the divine character. Tt is poor religion to count God out in mak- ing out our inventory. Naturally vou chnnot then get what {you cannot pay for. And so you modify your purchases to your purse and your needs come into the seeming of matching your justifiable power to gratify those needs. 80 she got the ‘Charge it, please,” habit—and as her bills mounted kept tell- ing herself that she would retrench next month and pay when her expenses were less. But her expenses grew greater—not smaller. And she began to borrow from a wealthy man of her acquaintance. Her \dea was still the “Charge it, please,” one. She meant to pay him back—and It seemed simplier to owe him than dunning dressmakers and irascible department store managers. And In the end her debt |to him actually swamped her on the reefs of her own weakness. All through nature the same principle is fllustrated. You have to pay for every- thing you get from life. If you go out in reiny weather in pumps and thin stockings and seek idly to charge up your damp feet to the seemingly endless sccount of your youth and health you are laying up a debt you must pay—and pay when least you are in the mood or condition to discharge past indebtedne,ss. For the penalty of “Charge it” is that you must discharge your debt when it has mounted to huge proportions of pay- ment for what seems in retrospect a little, trifling, silly purchase. That is the horrible part of the ‘charge it” business. The price always seems un- forgettably heavy—and the thing for for which you are paying so light and inconsiderable & thing as to have its . forgoiten. | Pay us you g0. This is the only way to keep books with life. By Gouverneur Morris and Charles W. Goddard Ompyright, 1915, Star Cempany. Synopsis of Pevious Chapters. After the tragic death of John Aines: jbury, his prostrated wife, one of Amers ica’sgreatest beautles, dies. At her death Frol. Stuliter, ent_of the interests kidnaps the baby 8kl und brin adise where she sees no man, but thinks she s taught by sngeis who instruct her for ber mission to ieformn the world, At the uge of 1y she v suddenly thrust lato the world where akents of the interests are ready to pretend io find her. Fifteen years later Tommy goes to the Adirondacks. The interests are responsi- ble for the trip. By accident he 1s the first to meet the lttle Amesbury girl, as she maniike to let you finish speaking and then to have tried to steal their hearts | and minds away from you. Wolllfll'ti ”nr “Yes,” sald Tommy, slowly, “I think it would, Miss—Amesbury.” Bohind his door Prof. Stilliter started as if someone had stuck & knife in him. “Why Miss Amesbury?’ asked Celestia. “Because it's your real name. I knew you when you were a baby. We were ' great friends, Then you went away. My | father sald you had gone to heaven—so you had, but only to a place that you were taught to belleve as heaven. Then you came to earth—and I've recognised you. I wonder I didn’t before. But I do now. There's no mistake possible.” “What utter nonsense are you up to | now?" “‘Sometimes little girls wear socks lndl comies fortn trom he e glil tro Celestia re ] r-flm as Celestia either Tommy nor each other. Tommy finds iU an casy matier to rescue Celesta from Prof. Stillitet and they hiie In o _mountains; later they are bursued by Stilliter and escape to an island whers they spend the night. Tomuny s first alm was to get Celesta away from Btiliter. After they leawe Bellevue Tommy is umh}m to get any hotel to take Celestia owing to her costume. But later he persuades b father to keep her, When he goes out to wie taxi he finds her goi Bhe falls into the hands of white slavers, but escapes and goes to live with or fam- ily by the name of Douxlas. hen their #on Freddle returns home he finds right in his own house, Celestia, the lor which the underworld has offe! & re- ward that he hoped to got. Celestia secures work I largs gar- ment factory, Where a great many girle are employed. Here she shows her pe- cullar power, and makes friends with all ber girl companions. By her talks to the girls she is able to calm a threatened strike, and the “boss’’ overhearing her ls moved to grant the relief the girla wished, and also to right a great wrong be had done one of them. Just at this point the catches on fire, work room is soon a blazing furnace. Celestla refuses to escape with the other girls, and Tommy Barclay rushes in and car- ries her out, wrapped in a big roll of «loth. The wife of the miners’ leader Invoives Tommy in an escapade that leads the miners to lynch him. Celestia saves him from the mob, but turns from him and &oes to seo Kehr. TWELFTH EPISODE. As always, an orating crowd followed Celestia to ber car, or, as on the present occaslon, surrounded her to it. Beside Prof. Stilliter, she walked wmong them, talking with gentle persuasion to those nearest her. When she mounted the steps of her car they cheered her to the echo. She had to show herself several times and make little speeches befpre they finally dispersed and went about their business. Tommy Barclay alone remained. He 18 | girl of flesh and blood like the rest of chubby brown legs. The little Amesbury | girl had a little round mole just under her left knee." ‘S0 have 1,” sald Celestia, “what of it?" “Why this man Stilliter,” sald Tommy, “who kidnaped y ou when you were & kiddle, has taugbt you to think, by mental suggestion, that you are what you think you are, instead of just a lovely s, She shook her head and murmured something about ‘‘nonsense,” but there was someththg too earnest and convinc- Ing in the young man’'s voice and manner that what he sald could mot but shock and distrust her. “I'm sure you believe this, Tommy; but it's quite out of the question. I remember my heavenly home as If I had left it ‘““You remember a mental condition, not a physical reality.” There was & short pause. Then, “What you've sald ought not to bother me at all” sald Celestia. “I don't kmow why you bellove ™ “I don't kmow,” sald Celestia. “I'm %0 tired. Please don't talk to me about it now.” Then she mmiled at him and eaid: “It's & wonderful invention, though. Find the cave first and then talk to me." ‘‘Celestia don’t you want %o belleve?" Then Prof. Stilliter heard a sound that wlmost made him foam at the mouth. “‘She doesn't want to belleve,” he thought, “and the will and her usefulness will be at an end, and she will belong to me. ‘Why not anticipate a little?” He #tood there trembling. He heard Celestia enter her state room and lio down with a sigh of weariness. Ko listened for a long time. The sound of her breathing told him that she had not S0 at lust he walked stealthily off to his own car and oalled for a big glass of brandy and soda. Meanwhile Celestia lay on her bed, her hands folded on her breast, and her mind reviewing and reviewing the statements that Tommy had made. And under the bed, trembling with hatred and excitement, lay Mrs. Guns- dorf, waiting for that time when Celes- tia’s regular breathing should tell her that the defenseless object of her hatred ‘was sound asleep. So tense were Mrs. Gunsdorf's muscles that the handle of the stabbing knife which she had drawn from her stocking was wot In her hand. (To Be Continuad Monday.) comfortable hammock, The parents of the latter 4o not be- lieve i trammeling the youns. They say they will let Mary alone until she s enough to notice the manners of and to copy them.” Why? 1 wondered. Is &8 porfect as that which scious as breathing? courteous boys I ever 1 nets. Would he, as been any more comfortable tlety if ‘he had to remember to take his hat off? ALL THE WORLD there's no other thumb that can make this print. There may be thumbs that look like it—but there’'s no thumb that can make the same impression. In all the world there is no bever- ago that can succossfully imitste (/) you say it, or why you think it's true, but please don't argue with me about it now. I'm 8o tired that I'd almost like to belleve it myself."” Prof. Stilliter pricked up his ears at that; for he knew very well that want- ing to believe a thing lives next door to believing it. If Celestia could me made to belleve what Tommy had told her, her Influence would be at an end. She would have to be got rid of. The professor trembled. The triumvirate would be fore putting her underground. So would he; but he would be for putting her, not in the grave, but back in those vast cav- erns whence she came, and where he, who had power over her, could visit her at his convenlence. He wanted the woman more than the triumph of that cause in whose interest mounted the steps of the car and knocked on the glass of the door. Prof. Stilliter opened it. “Could I see Celestia a minute™ “I'm afraid not. She's dead tired. But Celestia had heard Tommy's volce and came out of her state room, where | she had gome to lie down. “I'm not too tired,” she called, “and I'd like to see bhim. “But only for & minute,” cautioned Prof. Stilliter, and then, with seeming re- ductance, he withdrew and ciosed behind the door of the passage that led past the state rooms to the dining room end of the car. But the professor went no furtber. Having closed the door ap- plied his ear to & hole that he had bored In it for just such occasions as this, and listened. he had trained her so paintakingly for #0 many years. Let her believe. He might be willing In-Shoots. Some men are like cuffs on trousers. Of no particular use and not ornamental, either. The man who bas once beea an easy mark feels that he has been marked for life, Exercise that a boy takes in the gym- _"l‘- gorry,” Celestia was saying. “that I'had to steal your audience away from you.. It wouid have beem more sports- nasium always seems to bepefit him more than that secured by weeding the sarden. There may