The evening world. Newspaper, November 5, 1915, Page 22

A © inquiries and, remedial measures of another. PeTANLIORD BT 208rH PULTE Oe eee Detty Recent Relew Pols Pree bem seabed HEME eats ne Powt eT PN oh ae Gemoee comeer The Evening World Daily Magazine ‘ Friday. November The Stories Of Stories Instead of eulking beanuse be thet it had always been « custom for every 1 husband chanced of pride with them. wuld tim won Ne Veewing| Fer ‘Werte for the Ur Pimee | and Canada Ore Toor we ine Bont . ee nt oe —_— ET dt. VOLUME 1 NO. 19,799 No, 69—THE FUNERAL PYRE; by Voltaire. aencenteeee - aaneasinfunapiaseaanntanncianyetpstigina® ADIG, the Nabyicoian—wisemt man of bis day—became slave te ae | | Arad chieftain, Betoe by name THE PRESIDENT ON NATIONAL DEFENSE. | | 7) had lowt his freedom, Zadig set to work improving the condition . of hie master’s barbarous tribe N PUTTING before the try bis programme of preparedness) |" Por conmpie, be fo Mr roughly an American take t of the tribe to burn herself to death as soon as “t way " p nl plan appes ‘ . inquiries and learned (hat the widows were not obliged stinets of Amerioar ! | by law to do this; but that it was eo matt N 7 nt th " ver Whenever a married man died his wife would collect a buge pile of a . ye eee ee | combustibles and heap it im the centre of the tamp the Manhattan Club dinner last might than its insistence that must | "Then, tn the presence of ali hor fellow tribesfolk, she of what needs to he don an ost be done by everybody; that busin the “Funeral Pyre of Widowhood” (ae the heap was called), and would fre to it, perishin 14 the flames men, bankers, laws wage-earnere—al| classes of citizens, are to ote a part of theit surplue time and enerzy to butiding « ote and ideale does best are the things ir Its deepest enthusiasms are those that are moat wid fenses for their common inter The things this countr which every body joins shared, This The President is profoum tively aware that nothing can ever make America 60 formidable in ease of war as a programme in which hundreds of thousande or even diy, imatine 8 #0 in poace millions of busy citizens have trained themselves to play effective 7 z i} parte. What we all wish to accomplish is that the forces of the nation should indeed be part of the mation and not a separate professional force, and the chief cost of the system would not be in the enlistment or in the training of the men, but tn the providing of ample equipment in ease it should be necessary to call all forces into the field. The Navy, the President believes, needs only that we should “hasten our pace in the policy we have been long pursuing.” “A definite policy of development, not made from year to year, but look- ing well into the future, is all that is needed in order to bring it to a ¢ K bananas { quite fallen in with his views and, moreover, had be- * point of extraordinary force and efficiency as compared with the other } Law. { Shine GENCY SR tereaire, Rev Oy) Demers ae * wavies of the world.” : , “Oh,” @he faltered at last, “II think I would ience and money will take care of the Navy. But the Army needs citizens—citizens willing to spend their vacations in training camps, willing lo enlist, 133,000 of them every year for three years, willing to be citizen soldiers for six years, during half of which time they would be expected to undergo intensive training for “a very brief period each year.” Even six months ago such a proposition would hive seemed un- ‘e juviting to most men, ‘To-day there is a growing realization that the training of a mililary camp not only does no injury to a man’s regular work but greatly adds to his fitness therefor, There is a tang to the experience that makes a better tonic than idleness, Platts- burg taught its lesson. Many Americans have been thinking deeply of these things. Bivery month more will think of them. When the President urges a preparédness that shall consist mainly of ready citizens he may we'll y | | | In thie way she won immortal fame And the Arab tribe was most rempected which could boast the greatest number of burned widows Zadig thourht the custom wos horrible, and he re~ evolved to break it up, Yet he, re slave, id not run counter to local ce, Bo he went at the matter in a more tactful way. heard that an Arab had just died, and that bis widow—e beautiful girl named Almona—was busy preparing her “Funeral Pyre of Widowhood.” led on the pretty w must have loved your busband very dearly,” be suggested, “to be willing to die like thia in honor of memory. eved him?” echoed Almona, “Why, I didn’t love him at all. Jealous, stupid, uncouth brute.” ‘Then, why die for him?" asked Zadig, “It ta the time-honored custom,” she replied. “Is tt auch good fun as all that,” he qu , “to be burned alive?” ‘It i terrible torture,” she shuddered, “But 1 must bear it.” “why?” “Because Tam @ good woman, I should lose my reputation and be de- spied by every one tf I did not mount the pyre.” “Then,” he said, “you kill yourself merely to win the good opinion of other people and to gratify your own vanity?” She flercely dented this, But Zadig went on talking tn the same etrain, showing her how idiotic It was for her to die and how delightful it was to stay alive, He also managed to interest her in his own good looks and cleverness, Diplomacy. eee Before he had finished his discourse Almona had rather stay alive and marry you than to win tmmortality on the pyre.” Zod\e hurried off to Setoe and to the elders of the tribe and told them of his talk with the lovely widow. They Hatened gravely to every word, Noting the effect he had made on them, Zadig implored the chief to pass & law forbidding any widow to burn herself to death without first talking,’ alone, with some attractive man for at least one hour. The law was duly enacted. And since then not one woman in af Arabia has ever mounted a funeral pyre. Making a Hit By Alma Woodward Copyright, 1915, by the Press Publishing Co, (The New York Evening Warlt), Asa Ray of Sunshine. thing’ll turn out all right to-morrow, lores to real a “straight | What difference does it make if your } article—one of thos heipul | biggest customer HAS failed and Mls thee the tock lat you're stuck for two thousand? There your leg, of when the raieajare other custorrers to bo had, you ted Ganstiee stn ;|foolteh boy, and you're so wonderful forget to apply it. Here are a few jee | XOU'll gurely get them Oh, I'm tywwhigh An)” one, way bee" pertectly SURE you'll get them—I'm eo sure my ot OM att that I Just sent home a stunning cross fox wet, C. 0. D. So don't for- —— tere IRST--Starting out in the morn- ask “whether such a plan does not conform to the ancient traditions’ of America.” To thoughtful Americans who look both back and forward the question is a guarantee. To those who hide behind present security it is a challenge, a nn Greece Drives Out Peace Cabinet—Headline. |r Woman Who Dared By Dale Drummond boy’s greeting isn't es cheery as usual, You ask the reason. You find that his feet trouble him terribly and he has to be on them all day; that he has a bad headache; that a touch of pleurisy is attacking | and tho lower hall is full of draughts, The Jarr Family —By Roy L. McCardell — | Copyright, 1015, by the Preas Publishing C | The Copyright, 1015, by the Proas Publishing Co, (The New York Brening World) (The New York Evening World), ing you notice that the elevator | him | get to bring your cunning little check- book home to-night, will you, honey? And there's a lot to be happy about —don't ever forget that. Goodby, darling.” 8. Meeting Louise at the appointed time you notice that she is unmis- takably in the dumps. She confesses | that she has gained six pounds in two to wear 4 Now Greek meets Greek there's no telling which way their army will march. a MAKE IT A PROGRAMME. PLAN to merge the Health Department, the Department of Charities and Bellevue and Allied Hospitals into a single Department of Social Service under one head recommends itself as a business-like, common-sense step toward setting the munici- pal corporation on a new basis of economy and efficiency. These three departments handle over $9,000,000 a year, Their ‘work is so closely allied, particularly in the case of the Health and Charities Depa.tments, that one bureau is constantly duplicating the If they were consoli- dated their agents and investigators could work together on the same cages, administering relief with the least possible waste of time ahd money. Moreover a single head could purchase at a considerable faving the millions of dollars’ worth of supplies which those depart ments, now buy separately, To taxpayers the proposal is welcome, not only for the specific saving it contemplates but also because it should lead to a general scrutiny of city departments with an eye to consolidation, concentra- tion and increased efficiency: The suggestion has been made that combining the Department of Bridges with the Department of Docks would save the city half a million each year; also that municipal ex- penses could be reduced at least $250,000 by abolishing the Commi sioners of Accounts, much of whose work could be as well or better done in the Comptroller's office. Tt is thus that the executive heads of any private corporation set to work to get results. The city hopes it at last sees the begin- wing of just such a programme. eS Following the recent case of a police detective who flour- ished his revolver and started a panic in the subway comes the story of 4 policeman off duty who—under the influence of liquor, according to the Police Surgeon who examined him ts alleged to have struck a woman, broken up a Firemen’'s Ball and fought with patrolmen who arrested him. Occurrences of this sort are an affront to the police themselves, who have reason to be proud, more ao than for many years past. of the eateam in which the community holds them. Revolvers and nightsticks are not implements of as- , sault and riot. Patrolmen should be the first to resent their misuse by men entitled to wear the badge of the department. a A policeman who off duty becomes a rowdy has no place on the force, Hits From Sharp Wits. ‘Talking by wireless will give wom- @n a greater opportunity. can never convince the mother that all men are born ue Commercial Appeal. in trying (to come back whcn the: have never been anywhere, . . Envy is one of the few plants that thrives on barren soil Banner. . No doubt if the Jarr, trying to be dip- ‘Those who pay as they go rarely photo her 1 t qver azoned the specd limit. pirtires’ Cant leduea ike cn made | lomatic and truthful at the same time | see would soon go, out of the picture| ~ Pt ti can't bo done “Due mistake some, people make ts | making busluess.—Macon News, "You ee,” be stammescd again, U ~Nushville H, I'm tired of"-——- Mr, Jarr was going to add the words liver and bacon, but he noted Mrs. Jatr’s eye was upon Lim over the coffee percolator. “What were you going to say you ere tired of?" asked Mrs, Jarr. And | then without waiting for a reply, she |remarked: “IT am tired of a good many thingg too, But I find I have to put up with them and #9 say nothing. I am tired of your continual | | fault finding, for one thing.” | “Oh, L wasn't going to find fault—not at al!—not at all! |clared Mr. Jarr stoutly. “I suppose you consider that Mver |isn't good enough for you?” sald Mrs, Jarr, “It's the best I can do and \t costs as much as anything else.” We might have ham came, if that’s the case, or finnan hiddle, or| beetsteak, or chops, or fresh codfish,” sald Mr, Jarr, roused at last to co! out with his complaint, “Il am a little tired of liver and bacon for breakfast, now that you mention it." “Why don’t you ask for straw- berries and cream or grape fruit lad?" asked Mrs, Jarr, coldly. “Why, I think they would be very nice for a change,” said Mr, Jarr, “This is the thanks I get,” she cried, “This is what 1 have expected. The only happy women, to my way of thinking, are the women who live at hotels and who don't slave them- selves to death to try to please a man only to be insulted by him every hour of the day.” “1 didn't mean to insult you-in- any de- deed I didn't!" cried Mr. Jarr bur- riedly. “You aid so!” said Mrs, Jerr, “1 thought you were #o fond of the sort | ot breakfast 1 had Gertrude cook for | you, but [ guess you are tired of your home. Maybe that was what you | started to say." | ‘any, nol Not at all!” replied Mr, Jarre “In fact, I had simply started to say that I was go tired of—er—er— you know"-— “Now don't try to get out of it that way!” sniffed Mrs, Jarr, “You have’ been in @ terrible temper for days and days, and have been just looking around for something to find fault about, The breakfast being the | first thing this morning, of course you jfind fault with that, Be truthful and admit it!" | Now, whenever «& woman says "Be truthful,” never forget that ts a trap, “Well--er—er—you i like » it's “I've been noticing—now, mind, I'm not criticising you, but I've been no- Ucing—that families are like individ- uals in @ great measure, They have fixed habits. Some families are ham- and-eggs-for-breakfast families, and some are, say, well, hash-for-break- fast families, And ours is—well, you pe—a liver-and-bacon-for-breakfast family. Cateh what I mean?” And he grinned in a propitiatory manner at her. “Oh, is that s0?" asked Mrs, Jarr, suddenly dropping her grieved man- ner and flashing a look of stern in- quiry at him, “And since when did you get so well acquainted with the breakfast foods of other families? What other families have the honor of having you to breakfast? You'd better be careful, Mr, Jarr! You may convict yourself, Sometimes you are not quite as clever at covering your tracks as you think!” Mr, Jarr stared dumbfounded. He was 90 surprised that he looked guilty. He'd been charged with late hours, but never with staying somewhere + CHAPTER XII. T first it was with a dull won- der that I noted I no longer loved Haskall. Duty was the only tle between us. He had seared me with his affronts and with his neglect. I felt that something prec- fous, almost holy, had been taken from me, and that I should love again, Ove day I went into Haskall’s of- fice. I wanted an address which I thought he might give me, As I en- tered, the door of his private office was ajar. I heard Eric Lucknow's voice, and if my life had paid the forfeit I could not have helped lstening. “You have never given your wife what she deserved. You haven't tried to make her happy, to understand her, else to breakfast. He picked up his hat and walked out without another word, “Gertrude!” said Mrs, Jarr, when the maid came in, “I think Mr. Jarr is tired of liver and bacon, He didn't say #o, but I think he is,” > True Love Stories AAA AAA AAA AAA AANA AAA ARADO The Evening World will pay $5 apiece for all true love stories accepted, must be 250 words or less in length and truthful in every detail. ‘Lave Story Editor, Bvening World, New York City.” The storte: Address A Rescuer’s Romance, Y friend, Thelma Johnson, was born in Johnstown, Pa, She lost both of her parents in the flood of 1889, She hersclf escaped by the miracle of being asleep in her cradle at the time on an open porch which floated dowm with the ourrent and lodged itself in a bank of debris and wreckage @ few miles north of Turtle Creek, where ale lay all night crying and moaning with the cold, Several farmers, among them Charles Murry, found the haif dead baby, Murry took the child to his mother, Whe avon had ib tadeling ahd crow ing with warm milk and blankets. As no one came forward to ol ive her every advi From the moment Murry loved her As love ohanged from of child to love of the woman, but he felt so much older than yhe’ that he J “Another's Wife.” OULD you believe the greatest love of my jife is my love for another man's wife? ‘“Shock- ing!" say you. “Read on,” say 1 ‘Truthtulness prevents imy calling her handsome, What she lacks in beauty her good heart makes up for, I must have loved her the first we met, Yet, at that first meeting, know she was another man’s wife. ‘That she loves me ia certaln, My my sorrows, my heart- ness, her sorrows s. Her embraces are as full of loving sentiment as her kisses full of loving devolion. And. all the time, she knows that | know she is another man’s wife, Bhe tells me siories of good deeds +} gone by good men, of the love of ood women and of sacrifices ahe is willing to make—for me, She watches over {me as @ lioness watches over her cubs, ‘The evenings spent with her are the bappiest evenings ever spent. Her love is all I have, Her love Is all I want. Yet she, my best love, my could not hope to win her, so he sent| one love, my only love, is another her to Pittsburgh to hig aunt to meet) man's wife, young folks like Lerself, One day when Charles came to eee ber she asked him why he did not Does this other man know of my love for his wife? Strange as it seems, he doos, Yet he will not stop take her home, Then he told her, and| my loving her, he dare not stop my he found that she had loved him al-| loving lap, and I know he does not this,” said Mr ways, ‘They are very happy now with their| my father. two lovely children, STELLA JOYCH, us We, 8 ow York, Slay | care to stop my loving her—for he is And his wife—my love of all loves—is my mother, IRVING SPELLMAN, 11) Broadway, New York City, ' never her nature, You've been jealous, not | so much of any man, or men, of her time; what YOU yourself might | miss of attention. And she's been an | angel, Decent, and true as el to you. Your surly face and suspicious nature would long ago have driven &@ woman less good away from you! Bither to the divorce court, or to some | other man's arms.” “It's MY wife you are talking of, Lucknow. ghe will nover do either | of the thin{s you speak of, she has oo inuch pride.’ | “Yes, and is too conventional.” Erie | spoke bitterly, 1 thought, but I did) not wait to hear any more, fhe night of Goorge Lattimore's | dinner, Haskall e. home early, He| Drought my supphires and pearls for me to wear, | had rather expected he would bring the diamond necklace, as he seemed so anxious 1 should make @ goog showing before this Mr, | Larkin. | He was pleased with my dress, a| soft, misty gray tulle combined with velvet of er shade. And as usual he flattered himself because of it “I don’t belleve there will be @ bet-, |ter dressed Woman in the room than | the wife of yours truly,” he boasted, Mr. Lattimore met us in the foyer and introduced Mr, and Mrs. Larkin. Mr. Larkin was a typical self-made | man of great wealth, His wife was a little bit of a woman on whom her | ‘elaborate clothes and gorgeous jewels sat strangely. But I liked them both at once. They were of middle age, | he perhaps a litle beyond. But both were very friendly, and Mrs, Larkin patted my band When I arranged a fold of her dress for her. I could) have kissed her, so unused was I to caresses, so much did I crave a little tenderness. | «My other guest ts Inte,” Mr. Lat- | timore remarked, as he looked at his |wateh, “but we will wait a few mo- | ments longer before going in.” Just then there was a stir at the door, and glancing up I saw him dart forward and greet a tall, rather strik- | ing blonde, Her face seemed in some | way familiar, Where had I seen her? | | But before I could decide whether T had really seen her, or whether she | resembled some one I knew, the host was leading her toward us. “Mrs. and Mr. Larkin—Miss Arnott and Mrs. Boroughs, Miss Arnott. | | Mr. Boroughs I think you know.” | There was something pecullar in his volee as he spoke of her knowing Haskall and T elaneed quickly T | caught @ pecullar look of satisfaction on our host's face, and a gleam of surprise on both Haskall's and Miss Arnott's. Evidently they had not ex- pected to meet. Mr. Lattimore took Mrs. Larkin in, I followed with Mr. Larkin while Miss Arnott and Haskall brought up the rear chatting like old friends, After we were seated I looked at | Miss Arnott again, 1 was still puzzled by the familiar look, Then suddenly | I,remembered. She was the blonde | Mrs, Browne and { had met on the | avenue, and who had looked at me 80 queerly. But—I almost betrayed my. self, so startled was I. Haskall was | bending toward her oblivious of all else, and around her white throat wa clasped either the diamond necklace | Haska!! had given me, or its exact | duplicate, ‘any other, (To Be Continued.) and that Instead of shelling out a green coupon [ and a little bit of symp...iy, remind | him that he bas no kick coming If only he thinks of the victims of the war who would be glad if they still had heads and feet to trouble them. Aa for plourisy, isn’t it @ happy thought that he hasn't got typhoid- phen moni This little sunshiny spiel will start the day right for him. 2. uring your shopping expedition you find that you have twenty min- utes to kill before you meet Loulse at the “Purple Tea Room” for lunch. How could it be better employed than by calling up your husband and send~ a little sunshine over the wire? a 3 3 Zz a 7 5 & & 5 2 ° 8 2 3 girl, money into extra material for large gowns than give it to the doctors Go on and eat the fried sweet pota- wouldn't you rather put your toes, dear, you love them so, And George doesn't like stout women, doesn't he? Well, I'd get stout on Purpose and put him to the test ig were you, And then I'd say: ‘Oh, was just for my appearance that loved mo! REAL me oy nothing to you. After all these years as a devoted wife and mother, too! Where is the justice in this world?’ Of course, go and order the pie, dear— why shouldn't you?” Then order a lettuce leaf sprinkled with lemon Juice for yourself. ( This is how you do it, “Hello, dear, Has it been a happy morning for you? No? Don't you care, darling, every- ° '. id +] Wit, Wisdom and Philosophy -=== By Famous Authors GOOD NATURE IN A HUSBAND. By John Hawkeaworth. ITH nearly all women it is; after 4 vain attempt to show an ine congruity which can no more be per- a Kind of general masi™ {ceived than sounds by the ‘dent, the f that “the best husband !8 &/ husband will be insulted for cause- yeformed rake,” a maxim | less and capricious displeasure on the which they have probably| Part of the wife, and the wife for ‘ the old comedies and folly, perverseness and obetinagy, derived trom Good nature, therefore, if intellee~ novels in which such @ husband 18|tual excellence cannot atone for the commonly the reward of female merit, | want of it, must be admitted as the Nothing could be faleer, highest personal merit, If without it of the| Wisdom is not kind, without it folly Excluding all consideration must be brutal, And surely what- rake, it will be eupposed that #upe-| ever accidental difference there may rior intellectual abilities ought always | ha) to be in the oo: ons to determine the cholee, “A man of] judgment of @ hus! and and: wife, if fine sense” is indeed @ character of| neither can given pain nor pleasure great dignity, and the ladies have al-| without feeling it themselves it is easy Ways been advised to prefer this to|to perceive which sensation they will coneur to produce, 1 may give some general rules which ladies may discover the inpoe sition of thowe by whom they are ad- Grensod, the lady remark how the suitor ie affected by incidents in which she is not concerned; what is his be« avior to hie immediate dependents and whether they approach him with 4 slavish timidity or with the cheers ful reverence of a voluntary servi- tude, Does he ever indulge in sare cusm or sneer at the expense of an- othert | Does he mention the absent ith constant kindliness to thous who are present with moate complacency? ¥. Good nature is not of less import- ance to ourselves than to others, The morose and petulant first feel the ans uish that they give; reproach, tec there is another more essential to uy mis to me that excellence which conjugal felleity—good nature, good nature J do not mean that jole imbecility of mind which com- plies with every request, which In- clings @ man to aecompany an ac- quaintance to a tavern or to shower gifts upon @ Wife at the expense of his estate. In true good nature there is neither the acrimony of spleen nor the aul- lenness of malice; it i# neither clam- orous, neither easy to be offended nor | impatient to revenge. | Tr is often sald man of sense | can never use @ woman ui." Whether | @ man of sense can use a Woman ill | T shall not inquire, but I know that he may make her extremely wretched, | Persons of keen penetration and | great delicacy of sentiment must nec- | Vilings and invective are but’. the essarily be nore frequently offended |overflowings of their own infelicity than others, and as a punishment for and are constantly again forced upon their souls, Sweetness of aa per ts not an acquired but a natural excellence, and therefore to recommend it to those who have it not may be deemed rather an insult than advice, But let that which tn happier natures is instinct in these be reason; let them pursue the same conduct im- pelled by @ nobler motive. No action the offense they can inflict more ex- Quisite pain because they can wound with more poignant reproach, and by him whom good nature does’ not re- strain from. retaliating the pain he feels the offense, whether voluntary or not, will always be thus punished, If this punishment is suffered with stlenoe, confusion and tears ft is pos- that the tyrant may relent; but|by which others receive or thi ithe ae removes ota macere in ed The sacred rule, 1s too late. the reproac! re- it thers torted, and whether It was deserved Peete Tee, ee would that others should do to you, to every deed, and “every Ce] be brought inte jud, becomes the subject of debate, the consequences are yet more dreadful; word shail ement,” 7” y) \ h, ‘