The evening world. Newspaper, June 25, 1915, Page 16

’ anager ata agg ay RA hoe nd 06 Company, Noa. Daily Except Sunde by fae Prose be ishing y ork. President, 63 Park Row. soak PURER Peovereat, Bad how, [nth the Now York as Gecond-Cless Matter, ites to he i ing For England and the Continent and » World tor the United States "All Countrtes in the International and Canada, Postal Union, WOLUMB 55........ccsceseeeeeeeeereseeesssesNO, 19,666 ; CONVERTED. BRB’: the Public Utilities Oommittes of the Constitutional Convention at Albany the highest praisé for the functions of the Public Service Commissions and the strongest arguments _ fer adding to the. power of the Commissioners by making them oon- | stitational officers came from the New York Telephone Company. i This is the same corporation which a year ago was entrenching Meat against The Evening World’s campaign for lower telephone Fetes and fighting off the Public Servive Commission with resource- tall etrategy. . The Evening World won. The new rates go into effect next | week. But the New York Telephone Company, too, has won a great _ stery—over itself. | ~ It now believes, its general counsel told the Convention commit- Werthis week, that Publicity and the throwing open of their books ia going @ be the enfoguard of public service corporations with the people in the future. The company’s officers, Counsel Swayze declared, did not appeal fem the telephone rate decision, which involved $5,000,000 a year fimseme, because they choose rather to adapt themselves to existing eunditions, “They are there to perform a service for the public. Their relationship with their clientele is more important in the long Fun than carrying cases to the courts.” ; Over and over again in the course of the fight this newspaper gapered the New York Telephone Company that ite only hope lay in making friends with the public. The company is to be heartily con- gretulaied that it ie now so thoroughly converted to this view that Mdeels moved to preach it to others. Bs | «The Evening World repeats with deep conviction what'it said ‘months ago amount of energy any public utility corporation has Jeft to expend upon ite business these days depends upon the to which ft 1s willing to consider the rights and in- that supports It. Corporations have long for privilege. But of late the public has up @ still stronger fight for ite rights, public service corporations will save themselves vain of onergy, and of money as well, when they see that it is wiser te have mo fight at all, ———— Think of detaining a Dernburg! ee THE POLICE GAMES TO-MORROW. ey EW YORKERS should soe to it that there is « record attend- P ance at the Brooklyn Jockey Club track to-morrow for the a Police Games, There will be a fine chance then, and again | Tely 8, to eee how the men are trained in different kinds of police werk, how the police dogs are used, besides the excitement of riding, skirmishing and contests of strength and skill. The gate money goes to the widows and orphans of policemen “welled in the performance of duty. The regular Police Pension Fund | deal tooscant. When « patro!man meets sudden death, ready money | fe often lacking for the immediate needs of his widow and children. | Im the last six years twenty-three policomen have loat their lives in | the service of the public. It is @ risk which each and every man on the force may be called upon to face again and again in his day’s werk. » One way the public can prove its pride and interest in the depart- fmt is to turn out and make its field day a rousing success, . —_-+-—__—_ Anyhow the new city flag is « triumph of neutrality-- French or German, eccording to degrees of color blindness. Se A PLOT TO SAVE THE CORONERS? N AMENDMENT restoring the office of Coroner to the list of constitutional officers prescribed for each county in this State is said to have been presented to the Constitutional “A yA Mhe City of New York, after a thorough investigation of its ) a@liqvated, graft-ridden Ooroner system, decided it wanted to have 54 with Coroners forever. The Legislature during its last session ; “passed an act which will abolish the office of Coroner in this city \ after Deo. 31, 1917. The city is not going to stand by and eee this werk slyly undone. aa The Constitutional Convention of 1894 took the office of Coro- | ner out of the list of constitutional offices. It did this in order to remove the constitutional obstacle in the way of legislative action aiming to abolish the system. Why deliberately put back that obstacle? " The investigation which Commissioner of Accounts Wallstein © eonducted last winter convinced this city once and for all that its eroners’ Office is nothing but a back eddy of petty politics, incom- cwaged and graft, The system is worse than useless. It has already condemned. It is inconceivable that the Constitutional Con- > wWention could be tricked into saving it. ——+-____. DO YOU JIT® When bicycles came we “biked.” To-day, if we're lucky, “motor” and “mote.” To-morrow—well, mayn't we “Jit"? candidate word. Will it pass the primaries? Instead of “git up and git,” why not presently “jit up and jit"? Hits From Sharp Wits. seem to think it is mot 4 likely to neglect some of the itttle 7 he| detalles that mi for faithful ser- ‘ ¥ vill vice,—Toledo BL he in $i i to Gay one veontves much vice tha: enoug! take, Gad beter’ than ant ravage aed vo ia e ee am Copyright, 1918, by The Press Publidiing Co, (The New York Evening World), AVING just partaken of « hearty supper, Mr. Jarr came into the front room of J the Jarr flat and, picking up a book and adjusting the light so he could read in comfort, threw himself on the sofa, “Now | know what you are going to do!” aid Mra, Jarr, upon beholding her husband comfortable in his own home, “you are going to fall asloc “Lam not,” growled Mr. Jarr, going to read this book!" “That's what you always say,” re- plied Mra, Jarr. “But that ty all the pleasure and company I have with you, If throwing yourself and go- ing to sleep on the sofa after supper is all you stay home for, why don't you aay #0? I'm sure you are home little enough, and whea you are you might stay awake!” “lL am staying awake,” cried Mr, Jerr. “I want to read this book. Don't you want me to read?” “I don't mind your reading,” re- torted Mrs. Jarr, “and you know it But you are not going to read. You can't think of any reasonable excuse for going out and joining your cronies at that Gus's saloon on the corner, and eo you do what you al- ways do the few times you are home of ari evening—go to sleep and snore! “I don’t snore,” said Mr. Jarr “You're the one that snores in this house,” It is unladylike to snore, Hence, no lady snores, or if she does it ts when she ie asleep and ls unconscious of it, peachment. After vehemently denying *that slic snored, that she ever intended to snore, that any one of her family ever snored, Mra, Jarr sighed and returned to the original grievance, “I am sure,” she said, “if young girls with their heads full of romantic ideas about men could seo into the future when they were married, and have a vision of the hero of their fondest fancies getting fat and bald and sleeping on a sofa"— “And if young men could ae ten years ahead and behold the dainty damasels they adore growling and fuss ing at them when they tried to elt quietly at home and read a book, they wouldn't marry, either, if that's what you moan to say!” retorted Mr, Jarr. Then she teft the room to get the children to bed, and when she re- “Tm turned Mr, Janr was sound asleep on the sofa. He was in & most uncom- fortable position, His collar was alipped from undes bis hoad end the} all resembling a salor collar The Jarr Family By Roy L. Anyway, they all deny the iin-| oe The Evening World Daily Magazine, Friday; June 25, 1915 oi Fame pees Mr. Jarr Can’t dreadful cold!” she continued, stil to herself. So she tiptoed into the next room and brought out a quilt, which she tucked about the sleeper. “Now,” she sald, “he's nice and comfortable—all but that horrid light in his eyes, So saying, she put out the light and left Mr. Jarr to his slumber, She had not long retired when Mr |Jarr, being now warm and comfort- They wore| able on the sofa and soothed by the dark, awoke, as the miller awakens when the noise stops. : But, alas, sleep, even when he had McCardell light was shining full into his closed eyes. So with deft fingers she undid his collar and slipped the pillow back junder hia head. “IL wish I could wake him up, just 80 he could hear himself snore,” said Mrs, Jarr to herself. ‘Then she felt bis hands, cold. “And he'a right in a draught from that window and will wake up with # Why Your Clothes Are Not Becoming By Andre Dupont. ‘Copyrights 1015, by The Prens Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World), Collars That Really Suit You. HE new frock you bought the other day with so much pleasure {s now 4 disappointment, It seemed #o attractive when you first saw it in the shop, the material was 80 pretty, the style of the garment suited your figure, the color set off your complexion so well, that you cannot understand why it {s #0 unbecoming, Nine chances out of ten, It 1s because the shape of the collar or the trimming that finishes the neck 1s not well suited to your type of features nor does {t display your throat to advantage, Five or six years ago, when collars consisted simply of a straight high stock worn close around the throat, | was unnecessary to give this detall a great of thought, for all neckwear must be alike, But nowadays, when, rough- king, there are nine hundred and ninety-nine styles to choose from, it is Ps T easy to make @ mistake, Nothing so quickly spotls the effect of an otherwise t gown @s an unfortunate neck » woman with a perfect neck, one that is neither too long nor too short, that 1a not wny nor yellow but has all tts bones and #inewa covered with a firm white skin, ean wear anything she for it will be sure to be becom. unately, however, the majority » not blessed with such necks as So It behooves us to aclect what suits us, And certainly this season Dame Fawhion has had everybody in mind, for she has designed neckwear for every woman if only every woman is clever enough to choose the right shape. But this happena so seldom! Why will the lang-necked person nals on wearing a low flat collar that makes hor iook like a pleked chicken, when she could just as easily wear one of those becoming new collars of organdic Jawn or kice that are cut a little high In the back, but are open in the fron to give comfort as well a8 a stylish effect—euch a collar, for Instance, ax is shown tn the tllustration? And if she is very thin she can draw the collar ‘loser together until prom{nent bones and hollows are becomingly covered, or she can wear @ collar that fastens just below the throat and enda in a narrow pointed vest, The collar can either be made on the dress or, what ts more convenient, made separately and pinned tn place, In this way it ca be washed as often as desired without loving to launder the entire frock. But the woman who js stout and bus @ short neck must never adopt such neckwear as I have just described, no matter how much she may admire tt on others, She looks best when she keeps everything as flat as possible this, choking him, the sofa pillow had |about the neck. Nor should these flat collars be too broad. For anything ai makes the gure Yook much larges. Mrs. Jarr Is Heartsick Because Hear Himself Snore gotten into bed, stood aloof from him for hours. ook here!" he cried at last, ehak- ing Mrs, Jarr, “how get to # the wa ¢ Wit, Wisdom and Philosophy N the country of the bare- foot, could luxury be im- puted to the first man who made himself a pair of Was he not rather a model So of the shoes? of sense and industry? man who contrived the first shirt. As to the man who first had It washed and. ironed, I set him down as a genius abundant in resource and well qualified to govern a state, Nat- urally, however, a society unused to clean shirts looked upon him as an effeminate coxcomb, who was likely to corrupt the simplicity of the na- tion, At least twenty volumes have been written about luxury, which has neither Increased nor diminished. For the space of two thousand years, both fn verse and prose, this asant vice has been attacked— and cherished, When the Romans, for example, had systematically robbed every country from the Adri- atic to the Euphrates and had de- veloped sense enough to enjoy the (ruits of their plundering, when ther cwltivated the arts and tasted all the asurea of life and communicated hem to the conquered natior then, ve are told, they ceased to be wise and good, The moral seems to be that a rob. ought not to eat the dinner he hag aken, nor wear the coat he has tolen, nor ornament his fingers with undered rings, But what morality wiht to 8 Never rob; it ts your duty not tus you mean excess let » admit that excess is per- cious In abstinence as well ay in luttony, in parsimony as in pro- usion, Should a cultivator of the vil plough tn his best clothes, and ith his hair dressed and powdered, 16 would display the most absurd uxury; but were a rich citizen of London to appear at the play in the iress of this peasant he would ex- hibit the grossest, the most ridicu- ous parsimony, On the Invention of scissors, what 1s not said of those who pared thelr ails and cut off the halr that was ‘anging about thelr eyes? ‘They vere doubtless regarded a prodi+ ila and coxcombs, buying an ex- ravagant instrument, fit only to spoil he work of the Creator, What a in to pare the horn which God him- self made to grow at our finger ends! It was an insult to Divinity, Wath hirts and socks it was far worse, With what wrath and indignation 1id the old counsellors who had never worn socks exclaim against the res magistrate who encouraged #o e juzury! RESTS { Editorials by Women WHAT ARE COLLEGES FOR? By Marguerite Mooers Marshall. HE salutatorian in this year’s graduating class at Trinity Col- lege is likely to lose his diploma because he cannot chin the bar. A young man at Columbia almost didn’t graduate be. T cause he couldn’t swim a certain number of yards. The President of the class of 1925 at Radcliffe wails because college has not taught her to keep house, In the minds of some of us the question must arise, “What are colleges for?” Is it their proper function to turn out professional acrobats, swimmers and cooks? And if that be so, isn’t the whole process absurdly expensive? May not the use of the horizontal bar, of | the swimming pool and of the kitchen stove be taught in a period of |less than four years, and at a cost of less than $700 or $800 a year? The mind has its needs and its rights, even in an age of utilitar- {anism and of worship of the body. The old idea of the college was, quite frankly, to cultivate and train the mind by giving it access to the great storehouse of history, to the glory that was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome, to the well of English unde‘led. Probably too little attention was paid to physical culture and to the practical demands of life. But are not these considerations usurp- ing more than their fair_share of space in modern educational schemes? j At any rate, if the college is to be nothing more than a combina- | tion of gymnasium, business school and domestic science laboratories, the sooner the fact is admitted the better. DOHDOODHI OS) The Stories Of Stories Plots of Immortal Fiction Masterpieces By Albert Payson T DOOOOODOSGI HOGS: | Copyright, 1018, by The Prow Publishing « No. 18—A PIECE OF BREAD. By Francois Coppee. HE young Duke of Hardimont was rich and lazy. Money, leisure, social position were his in ample measure, Soon after the Franco-Prussian War began he sat in the din- ing room of his club one morning finishing an elaborate break- fast. He chanced to see in the paper beside his plate the account of France's first great defeat. Yawning, he rose from the table, strolled across to the nearest recruiting office and enlisted as a private soldier, Patriotism and the memory of hero ance: dolent love for the good things of life. ™ | All summer and all autumn Private Hardimont fought gallantly for his country. Late in November his regiment was ordered to join the stricken army that defended Paris against the besieging Prussian hordes. The army was on short rations, Food was pitifully scarce. One afternoon Hardimont walked through the camps, gnawing disgust- edly at a hunk of dry bread which was his daily ration. He had always a » been a high liver until he had voluntarily chanced such 3 The Starving ; fare os this by enlisting, And he could not bring him- Sold self to eat the mouldy, stale morsel, With a shudder of Onnmmmnmororrrr') disgust he flung the half-chewed bread into the mud of the camp rodd. At once a skeleton-like youth darted forward from the shadow of a @ent, snatched up the mud-smeared lump of bread and gobbled it ravenously, She Duke of Hardimont looked on in amazement as the starving soldier ate, “If I'd known you wanted the bread,” said the Duke, "I wouldn't heve thrown It away.” “The mud doesn't spoil it," mumbled the soldier, his mouth full, squeamish.” The two fell into t ‘The Duke told his name, but did not mention his rank. The other man gave his own name as Jean-Victor. Being a foundling | asylum child he had never had a last name, Hardimont led the poor chap on | to talk about himself, Jean-Victwe, it seemed, was the slave of one single great ambition that he had never yet been able to satisfy. His ambition was that some day he might have enough to eat. All his life he he unery. Never once had he had a square meal, In the foundling days he had been starved, As a growing lad he had still been starved. He told the Duke how he and other unfortunates were in the habit of searching the pavements and gutters for pleces of thrown-away bread, He had jotned the French army, hoping to | be well fed for once, But the war had begun tmmediately and short rations had been the rulg, It had never occurred to rich young Hardimont that any man could eut- fer continually from hunger, He promised to share all his own rations hence- | forth with his new friend, Jean-Victor was absurdly grateful for the offer, | ‘That very night he had a chance to prove his gratitude, Hardimont wae | ordered out on sentry duty, As he was fast asleep when the order came to the tent Jean-Victor volunteered to take his place. Out went Jean-Victor te his friend's post, leaving Hardimont still sleeping. There was a Prussian attack that night. Among the killed was Jean- Victor, who had been shot through the head while he was patrolling Hardl- mont's sentry bent. . ° ors had for once overcome his in- “T'm not ‘The millionaire Duke of Hardimont came out into tho rain from Ms club, With him was another nobleman, As they crossed the pavement Cres toward their carriage tng Duke's foot struck against = In Memory an object that lay on the/curb. He glanced down and of a Hero. saw the thing he had kicked was a half loaf of bread, nnn Stooping, the Duke picked up the bread, carefully wiped the mud from it with his handkerchief and laid it on a bench nearby. His friend laughed in derisive wonder, j “Why did you do that?" he asked, “Are you drunk?" “{ aid it in memory of a brave man who died for me," replied simply. “Please don't laugh, It offends me,” phen the Suma, How to Make a Hit “By Alma Woodward Copyright, 1018, by The Pres Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World) On the Beach. susshy, like ripe tomatoes and (Any olf peach {9 good enough for e tryout, | sulted eggs) and collide with the | bute Dick the most crowd oi oy who's selling ice cream cones if ponte of, To Lnmure out om Tinea whi rely on the wacinth (much to the delig infant who scoops t sand and all, ato iM of & year-old h8 ice cream up, . and devours it to te Mian ‘Oo material by tie yard for your calorice,) IRST: Make your first entrance ise oe aanleking of bis mother, F fresh from the bathing housed Prevent {ty ¢2 Set there in time to by running down tho incline} Fourth: " Although by this time onto the beach, protesting shrilly; | ¥ou're pretty firmly established, don't “Now, Bennie; now, you stop, now!" | Stor. ¥ next move Is to discover | (2 ? that you've lost Bennie. Sear |1f there is one ery more than another | eral Horizons, Tocide that hoa areeke |that's bound to create @ furor on} have Kono into tho water when son any beach {t's that, From that mo-|had your back turned—that he's got a cramp—and sunk ment people will contract distoca-)%) crimp. tion of varlous vertebrae rubbering at Bennie and you, Second: Hefore you go into Here's where hit with the lifesavérs, * to launch the cata: especially when Bennie Tees from a sandy grave that he's the y|] dug himself into for fun a water—oh, long before—start to play | (UE himself | r fun and says: Boo! That ball, Pitch with all the parabolic] going. the time I had you perfection of a Christy Mathewson;|” Fifth: Just no is the psychologt- cal moment to in.” catch vrounders and sky-balls with Grab Ben- the elastic ease of a Hal Chase: muntit a Knuckly digits and do Pav. you miss. Even then, don’t turn| Bwa- peochans e dash into the around to discover that the errant{ W A Fen down a couple of thmid ball bas appropriated a square of Bate vine : rine HeAe the edge, . ace of | Seize the life rope suddenly, tender, peeling skin from the face of Tek) th line suddenly, making of wome blamed fool who's lying out rcsgdes et In yee Tue] then, to show that you're flat, getting baked. Just kick the scream, and a real water sand petulantly, on account of your| Tt, dive down under and grab Rew slip and eend @ scoopful of it flying | Me's feet, only to come un au? fing into the open mouth of a fat and| that the feet yon grabbed didn’t wgtew bald person with a shoebrush goatee, |, Pennie at allt who sleeps that way because his xth: On vour way back to the mother never broke him of the habit. hhouse give sundry, neatly ‘Third: In running after the ball d groups needie-point shower fall over a couple of apoony ing the “wet dog shake." A OE a ee A oa wae i poate hc ase ry a@pread out erm