The evening world. Newspaper, October 10, 1914, Page 8

i ‘ ; : { be esting World. BSTARLISHED BY JOSEPH PULITZER. Podlishea Dally Except bic ty by the Press Popientae Company, Noa, 63 te k Row, New York. RALPH PULITZPR, President, 63 Park Row. J. ANGUS SHAW, Treasurer, 6% Park Row. JOSEPH PULITZER.’ Jr. Secretary. 63 Park Row. Pewee, New York as Second-Class Matter. tion hee to reise hing] For England and the Continent and World for the United All Countries In the International end Canada. Postal Union, Year. $8.50] One Year.. -401One Month secvcveccccceveesesNO. 19,408 OUT-FIGURING ARITHMETIC. N ITS preliminary report to the up-State Public Service Com- mission on the investment and earnings of telephone property in | this city, the New York Telephone Company has fairly out-figured | arithmetic. The company declares ite net earnings for the year 1914 equal to galy 7 1-2 per cent. on the capital invested in city service. It protests | thet it loses money on low telephone charges in up-State cities. Yet, it pays 8 per cent. dividends. How? In its valuation of telephone property in this city it includes two “tntarigibles” : Intangible No. 1, Special Franchise........... $39,000,000 Intangible No. 2. Going concern value at least.-.. 13,400,000 As The Evening World has pointed out, Intangible No. 1 was the gift of the publio—permission to the company to use the streets which belong to the public. Why should the public be expected to pay interest on what it already owns? Intangible No. 2 is « vague guess at the value of the company’s good will. It needs careful correction. These two “intangibles,” representing 40 per cent. of the total val- ‘uation, become handily real and eolid when it is a question of swelling the spparent capital upon which the public must pay interest in the shape of high toll charges. With these two items eliminated the real property value amounts by the company’s own reckoning to $84,952,044. Upon this basis the Fhe Evenin g World Daily Magazine, Saturday; October 10} [ Such Is Life! company’s net earnings represent « return of 12 per cent. on capital invested. 4 Six and eight per cent. have been repeatedly fixed by the courts ese fair and reasonable return on the invested capital of corporations engeged in public service. The New York Telephone Company has figured itself into a false where it reveals only desperate determination to stave off as Jong as possible the day when it will be forced to give New York telephone users the rates to which they are by every law of justice and sound business entitled. ol ‘We heer thet whenever John D. Rockefeller entertains a friend just now he gives the guest a paper vest with kindly advice on how to keep warm. - Mr. Rockefeller bas of late years lavished advice on young and old. If he is adding pauper waistooats it is a beautiful sign that his affections are mellower than ever and his thoughtful- ness uaimpeired. How thteresting {t would be to know If it ts really paper coverings that have kept Mr. Rockefeller’s own heart so soft & and warm ell thess years! And should the paper be thick and trown, or crisp and green? wi el “A PRODUCT OF CONDITIONS.” T’ confessions of “Dopey Benny,” gunman and gang leader, now in the Tombs under indictment for extortion, no doubt need corroboration as to detail. But it is eafe to eay they present a reliable picture of the gangster as “a product of New York » ‘That is what “Dopey Benny” says he is. His story of how he a around him s band of east cide youths ready to do whatever che bade them, how he was soon sought out by men who wanted to “wee ctealthy weapons against business rivals, how presently labor ‘Jeodere employed him with regular pay to arrange atticks on strike- ‘breakere—de an all too probable parallel to dosens of similar careers on record. Bven though “Dopey Benny” tells only half the truth, he can the detectives busy for weeks. He is most furnish data enough to keep the notorious gang captain left. If he really “squeals” it can “be turned greatly to the advantage of law and order in Rew York. Nhe —— ‘Though it has grown to be a fair-sized town, New York 6a still do rural stunts on occasion. A big black dull career- fag @p on avenve in the middle of Manhattan, pursued by eight ae eutomobiles, ten and @ dosen cattle herders, is a re- pastoral spectacle far more appreciated than it would ‘West. game day the bull broke loose the manager of a New found four ducks waddling around the bathroom couple of women guests from Maine. The ladies @ucks’ eggs and had to have them fresh, | delight New Yorkers, They like to be con- | over again thet anything and everything is | in New York, | Sheriffs, Pepuly Sheriffs, Judges of Municipal Court, Supreme Court, Su- ng | Preme Court of the United States? BMANUEL B, ‘Werm Hats on Warm Days, To the Editor of (Due Evening World; 1 would like to make a protest against wearing felt hats during the warm weather we often have in autumn. On 16 we were forced tp bow to custom like a lot of fools and discard our straw hats, A person should. not be molested or myes. whether he wears a straw or a felt hat. The seasons are often late, aloohol also Eislasses ‘coninioe’ alcohol sys couldn't be in a dry coca. claims BE VERY CAREFUL (OCKED IOUT BYA STRAY BALL .IT WENT. DOWN HIS THROAT AND LANDED IN HIS STOMACH BUSTING HIS, 6 LOT of people tell me,” anid) the head polisher, “that they are getting tired of the war.’ "Doubt! said the laundry man, “but they aren't as tired as cane are not really tired of the war, They are tired of reading about the same bd old series of ac- tions day after day. “But let some new development oc- cur—some victory for either side of @ decisive nature—and you'll see the very people who say they are tired of the conflict ig every Extra they can get inate bands on, It is utterly tmpossible for a normal in to lose terest in @ real war. soon becomes accustom: ony. People who live in regions where uakes are frequent take them, when they come, as @ matter of course. “One thing about the slow retire- ment of the German right wing has been of advantage to mankind in gen- eral, It has given people a chance td think about the foolishness of such a conflict, “That kind of warfare doesn't ap- peal to the Senstenon. ‘There 16 no dash to it, no resque element. “The German submarine that sank three cruisers overshadowed the mill- fons of men engaged in land fighting. The bombardment of the cathedral at Rheims pushed news of the killing and maiming of men from the front rank of display. The enormous fa- tallties now appear to be part of the conflict, and not until the war is over and the totals have been counted up will mankind in general proceed to act on the impression that is being unconsciously absorbed during these days. & lesson, whatever it IT WOULD MAKE ANEW MAN OF You! KY DON'T You LAY GOLF ? with new ideals and ambitions will have possession of the earth. War endures because mankind learns only by experience, and the experienced must die to be succeeded by those who will not be satisfied until they, too, have had experience.” t New Police Jobs. “ce HAT do you think al the proposition to have the police force light the street Hghts every evening and put Coprrigtt, 1014, 1 by The Pree Os. (The New York Wort) ij The Week’s Wash @ @ ok, Bae Paating os, re) By Martin Green } them out in the morning?” asked the head polisher. “Excellent,” replied the laundry man, “but it doesn’t go far enough. Here in New York we have more than 10,000 policemen. Much of the time they aren't doing a thing but etanding around swinging their clubs and preserving the peace. “Why not make each pollooman | keep his beat clean? Then we could do away with the Street Cleaning Department. The policemen might also be instructed to test all the scales and measures in the stores on Chapters From a Woman’s Life]: By Dale Drummond Copyright, 1914, by The Pree Publishing Co, (The New York Evening Worl), CHAPTER XCll. DID not leave the house while Jack was away. He must have had some very cogent reason for wanting no one to know he was out of town, I thought. So, as he had requested, I remained in. I felt little aggrieved, however. The weather was perfect, and I should have liked to lunch in town. Instead, I invited Gertie over to spend the day with me “How lovely your home is, and how many new things you have since I ‘wea here last!" he exclaimed. “Yes, we entertain so much, it was necessary to refurnish this fall,” I re- plied, boasting a little. “You are a lucky girl, Sue. I wish Clifton could make as much as Jack does, I nearly die of envy when 1 think of you with this lovely home, your automobiles and everything!" “How are you and Clifton getting along?” I asked, flattered by her en- vious speech, “Oh, just the same as ever! I sup- pose you think we quarrel on account “However, the may be, cannot through @ couple of generations, For last longer than fifty years from now all who are interested in this war will have passed away; and a new generation, Hits From Sharp Wits. ‘Wise men learn more from fools than fools from the wise.—Cato. ee e The philosopher of the Cincinnati Enquirer says: “When you have said enough stop talking.” But did you ever see any one who thought he had said enough? Neither did we,-Mem- phis Commercial Appeal, . . man who can say the right a It was cool last June and July, with ay fa free from alcohol. Althe exception of a few days. ee 1} ee of the fruit we eat ts /think the owners of resorts at the ia to prevent decay: | peaches and in the country might find mo, The answers should in- |i to their advan’ it they opened many. 4. | their season a month later and closed Wednesday. Be @ month later, M, . (he Biter of The Evening Worlds & Percentage Query, ‘what day of the year was July | To the Editor of The Evening World: oh a. Ter we if you buy something for Im The World Almanac. $38 aie, bel ts for B34 you ants 108 t.; B saye if you buy some- cen! Rthoret The Evening World: Ring pt git and seit tor’ 48h you an I find a list of the yearly cent. Which ts correct, the following: President, tha vey not percentage of profit and Gena- and gain per cent. exactly the ) Meaning? Who “ T thi home when his wife is cleaning house.—Toledo Blade, eee ‘When men enehange gossip they call it disoussion.—Albany Journal. eee re onatiagy » naghimere-Aletphis at the right time ie needed at | 9, of what he did, but we don’t, Not any more, Of course, | haven't speculated again; can't get the money! Clifton pays ali the bills; says ‘it saves me from temptation,’ “Do you know, Bue’—she blushed —Yit was the best thing that ever happened when Clifton advertised he wouldn't pay my debts? “Really, it was, although it seemed hard at the time, I was developin, Into a regular gambler, On a smali scale, of course. A PIKER. But just the same it was getting an awful hold on me. I cared more about that old ticker than anything else In the world, and neglected my house, and everything else, for it; even my friends. But | was too proud to hang around an office when I had no money. So I gradually lost the de- After luncheon she played with the children for @ long time; then posed we go and call on Ni “I haven't her in an age, “Neither ha e an entirely Terrace. Nell soolety, you near! w. Bu 7 in get here out ot dear for all that.” Then Gertte added, “I don’t think Ger of us ever quite appreciated “Oh, I don't know. She could be disagreeable on occasion, as well as the rest of us. Many’s the lecture she's given moe because she thought I Tras, extravagant.” ‘a bi jut you were, and are, horribl; SSerreat. ane Peas know it! t © too, but you coul wo me one better, Sue.” penae ‘spent a long, lonely evening and & stupid Sunday. No came for Jack. In fac! the telephone only from Mrs. rang once, and that was Munday niget Tsboven lay nisi became di te and asked Harry and Fanny over. I wished afterwanmd I hadn't, I was obliged to make eo many excuses for Jack's absence. “Where's the boss? Harry asked as they came in, “Ho had to go out a while and I was fener, I told Him. new from Harry’s express! that he did not believe mer batt could think of nothing else to say, “I'm glad you agked us,” Fanny mit. {We were boring each other to “What ails Jack Imtely? Harry in- quired. “He doesn't act a bit ike himaelf. I don’t believe he te well, Perhaps he ts working too hard.” “I don't think so, not just now.” I answered. “He did overdo a while back, and doesn’t seem to get nagted. That's one reason we have stopped going out and entertaining so much for a while.” “TI think you're wise, But hed bet- ter take care of himself or he'll have a breakdown, The boys were talking about it over at club last night, By the way, what's the reason you weren't over?” “Oh, I—I had a headache,” I re- plied ‘stumblingly. “That was too bi there. We had qu new fangled dances. Fann; but I couldn't, and she pro- ‘wo have a teacher come down ere and give us a few lessons. Per haps you and Jack would join us?” “I should ike it of all things,” returned enthusiastically. “Severe! times lately I have been afraid to , because of the many new them, atop: “It's all settled then that ‘Us in the lespone?’ Fann ‘shea, jects, and J 34 By Maurice Ketten LOOK ATAE | 1 USED To BE AS IN AS A FASHION ems, thetr beats. In that way the Bureau of Weights and Measures could be abolished. And the firemen who ait around fire houses most of the time might be engaged in washing their own bedclothes and knitting tidies for the almshouse and making pa- jamas for the inmates of the peni- tentiary. This efficiency business is hot etuff, but it ought to be played clear through.” ad | SBE,” said the -. 2.94 polisher, “that Charles F. Murphy says he is going to confine his at- tention exclust to Manhattan in future.’ Gee 1" gaid the laundry man, “he thing. ,bave been overlooking some- “The Fine Art of Fiattery.” By Sophis Irene Loeb. Coorg New Yok rasta Wertdhs s O* RE you a follower of the fine art of flattery—the artificial flowers of existence? A Woman came to me, weeping, the other day. She told me the pitiful turned, thinks that ev- eryhody should kowtow to her. She has lost all wense of duty. She has a few attrac- tions and she has MAGNIFIED them beyond all proportion. “She is simply spoiled by flattery. Ad = Coprrigm, 1014, by The Press Publishing Oo, (The New York Brening Worl), As to Exchanging ‘‘Old Flames for New.”’ VER meet an old flame, after—afterward?” inquired the Widow Peneively, leaning forward with one tulle-draped arm on ber chair, and her tilted chin cupped in her palm. ‘ “And wished you hadn't?” added the Bachelor reminiscently. “Hadn't what?” demanded the Widow, with her eyes still on the “Flirted with him—or met him again?” “Both,” replied the Bachelor promptly. hadn't married him—or her! has died out.” “Different,” agreed the Widow, “and so much nicer! You get quite another angle on them—a perfectly fresh viewpoint that makes them look just like new, And as to having married them or not; sometimes I think that if you could put all your old flames into a bag and shake them up, and then draw one, blindfolded, you'd be just as lucky as you are when you pick out a husband or a wife scientifically. Marriage is the one thing on earth in which human judgment always fails. Your first guess is as likely to be right as your last, and it's just as safe to choose a husband by the buttons on his coat, ‘eenie-meente-minie-mo,’ or by putting a wishbone over the front door and taking the first man who walks under it, or by turning around threé times and grabbing the nearest person at hand as it is to select him according to a book of rules, or a eugenic commission, er a Monte Carlo ‘system!’” et 66 QJ OU'RE bound to lose, anyhow?” grinned the Bachelor cynically. “For instance,” pursued the Widow, young, unsophisticated girl knows nine times out of ten, gets a fairly acceptable divorces knows ALL the kinds of men she doesn't want to marry, and picks out a husband by the careful process of elimination—and, nine times out of ten, gets ‘stung.’ But to return to ‘old flames'—does it harrow you to speak of them, Mr. Weatherby?” vi “Oh—no, no, no. Not at all!” the Bachelor hastened to assure her, as he nervously lighted a cigarette. “Only—why talk of the dead when we might be talking of your eyes, or that wonderful gown you are wearing, or of how well I am looking, or”’—— “Oh, pshaw!" broke in the Widow petulantly. “Men have no sentiment! Their hearts are like family pride—they can be bent, but never broken. That's why their past loves are all quite past. But a woman just loves to have her heart ‘broken.’ It gives her something interesting to think about for the rest of her life. She enjoys lingering tenderly around the tomb of & dead love”——— “And resurreoting the CORPSE!" groaned the Bachelor with a shudder. “Yes, and sometimes making a good friend of him!” declared the Widow eraphatically. “There is nothing like an ‘old flame’ for starting a brand new friendship of the finest, most ideal kind, Th: the only case in which Platonic friendship is possible—between ‘old fliames.’” “When all the sentiment has been used up and all the romance worn off. Ugh!” exclaimed the Bachelor. « “And also, thanked Heaven you ‘Old flames’ look so different when the fire > You're Bound to Lose Either Way. { ra i 4 XACTLY,” agreed the Widow. “THEN a woman gets down te a man's real nature and sees him an he is, and often discovers that he's infinitely fier and better than he seemed or pretended to be. Men only show the cheap, tawdry side of their natures to the women they flirt with and dance with and talk nonsense to; and tha! ll right for a summer afternoon. But on a cold winter morning of life, when the winds of Fate are blowing against you, give me the FRIENDSHIP of an old flame”"—— “And have his wife sue you for alienation of his affections!" scoffed the Bachelor. all very well to sentimentalize about old flames, but most of them are and the rest are married; and ALL of them are—er—em- barrassing, and remind you of what a blooming fool you once were. It’s ‘Do you remember this?’ and Don't you remember that?” And of course you DON'T—if you're a man. Women have such deuced inconvenient memories.” And the Bachelor sighed bitterly. “And men haven't any at al ighed the Widow. “Or at least their to lie down and go to sleep forever. A The Winter Overcoat of Friendship. 66 memories are trained like good di ‘woman will remember the very dress she had on when a certain man first ki—called on her, the songs she sang for him, the way she used to do her hatr, and the way he used to"-——— i i > “And that's where she She always tries to stir up the ashes, Where the Error Is Scored, 6s ‘OLD her hand!" laughed the Bachelor. H makes her fatal mistake. and awaken his memori “When she should be soothing his fears,” broke In the Widow, “and prov- tng to him that although he atill holds a little cozy corner in her heart, she isn't going to be sentimental about it. Then he can blossom out, and be more delightful, and more natural than he was in the original. My goodness! I wouldn't waste an old flame any more than I would an old jewel. I'd just | take him out of the tinfoil of flirtation and RESET him in the good solid platinum of friendship!" “What!” “I'd show him that I could LIKE him—as well as I once loved him!" announced the Widow serenely. “And, trust me, Mr. Weatherby, that’s no easy proposition. + ‘*Wear Cottons!’’ HE call of the south is: “Buy our cotton!” and nowhere in our country is the stress of the war more keenly felt than by our cotton planters. Their need is great, and our and will be much worn eeason. Then there are the Deaction! volies. These will continue to hold their strong position in as they especially lend coming styles, Pretty for women are gladly responding to their | fall and winter wear are in plaids and call. From several of our cities we aateene have a tha hear thet the fashionable set is ar-|fore. We all pedi rie ranging “Cotton Fashion Shows.” At/French sateens that ezauiel required close these gatherings the women are at-/9crutiny to distinguish them from ailk. tired tn cotton frocks, and the models| 7h Present domestio < output is quite that constitute the show are 60 !rre-| dressers have appeared in ax sistible that they are quickly disposed | eateens at recent fashionable of. The Red Cross Society is en-| ings, it is aafe to ot Hobed by the proceeds and’ the cotton | !#rity for 8 yeas to some, Industry of the south is being stimu-/ that is finding favor, vecotton Greas nowadays does not| fo boom the ‘cotign So 8 n om the cotton nesesoasy mean a cheap frock. Some| wearing suits of this of our most attractive fabrics are| very smart suits they found among the cotton weaves. -| In sheer cotton wea: ably the crepes can justly be called | organdies and swisses the leaders in cotton, and very pretty of the newest samples, es- embroidered vae- a li i 4 E : Oil ry ff a3 gs - are some pecially the white riety. t here I might mention that wears which have been stead- ily gaining in favor during the past by spring; @ y 1g oe ay oat ‘9 makes this Imminent, The white embroidered crepes are particularly pretty as dance frocks a dress of domestic organd; ste imported ane of or o war ven an impetus American manufacturers to their best results, and there are beautiful cetton are a delight to the qt er to a! ake it possible for ions in a costume that i é il all occ the label: Made in America, f power in the world at large, and then worth the euffering that is caused all around infinitely leas thi ttle uine Raturad bloom: 4 pleases. The advice of her flatterers seems more important than the advice of her mother, because she has learned to BELIEVE them. broken.” ‘Truly this mother might well agree that “compliments cost nothing, yet man; y dear for them.” I could not considering that here ip a teal pro! amounting to a checked carly 4 vacoine ne | Shut should be aed in time to ward Rot suffered from | i 1 am heart | stopped 38 is often worse than real physical il- ness. know him He , perhaps, right amang You Flattery is poison; it should nat and Ao 00 , ff the recipient of guil ve words ever to realize how fare haying eoeps ‘wagging, and that e the eame ‘rons | into many other that “flattery is the * has not yet lost ite and the “fatteree” often wakes up to the realisation that the old Grecian peicer her worded so well: “It ds better fall amongst crows than amongst flatterers; for the former walt until we are dead, while the latter eat us alive,” save herself and those about more than she can estimate, Ha i bee psa ee iN ALWAYS MAKE BEAUTY MORE BEAUTIFUL, Besides, flattery doesn't pay. the flatterer has done his Worst After \ show the effects of fostery, ry minute, You are Ri bia You bear the labels “silly,” ‘ ” Bn mi “foolish,” “unreliable,’ The willing victims are legion, If seat ans th aly o heh = ean anes that Peas SiS Saree pinata tones aay ee i , ~—* * } ys SB oe eS es aii