The evening world. Newspaper, November 15, 1915, Page 14

career - Cee PSTABLISHDD BY JOSEPH PULITZER. Fund bs Pudliehed Dally Except upday by the Frese Publ RALPH PULITZDR, President, 63 Park Row. ANGUS SHAW, ‘Treasurer Tark Row JOSHPH PULITZER, Jr,, Secretary, rk Row. Entered at the Post-Oftic New York as Second-Class Matter. tion Rates to The Evening| Por England and the Continent and World for the United States All Countries in the International and Canada. Postal Union, One Tear. ‘ * 80) One Tear. . veces COTE ‘One Month. .80' One Month.... sessscene 06 VOLUME 356. see NO. 19,809 NEW YORK AS A FIRE RISK. disaster it turns fiercely upon the State Industrial Commis-| Eu time the City of New York is visited witha factory fire) sion and the Fire Prevention Bureaus and demands protection | against such tragedies. The city is entitled to every safeguard tliat law can provide and) But does it ever examine itself critically as a inspection enforce. fire risk? We things we won't do for ourselves. One of the great difficulties with New York from the point of view of fire prevention is ite total lack of structural symmetry. A skyscraper adjoins not a skyscraper but a shed. A factory intrudes between a church and @ school house. A Frreproot Nothing is built to fit. costly club snuggles up to a garage or a livery stable. buildings stand next to tinder boxes. G please. In ¢hort, architectural adjustments are so eccentric and impossi- ble as to defy intelligent regulation. Uniform rules for fire exits or Toof escapes are hopeless where roofs fail to correspond by a dozen stories and buildings outclimb each other like weeds. The city has stuck to the belief that every man must be allowed to build as he chooses. The result is an architectural huddle. It may be wonderful in ite way, but there is no use expecting too much of it. In Paris and Berlin fire laws fit buildings adjusted to one an- other. In New York they must cover a chaos. en Rumor hes it that Tammany fs resighed to Mr. MoOall's fate. We are not surprised. Tammany’'s rule ie that the Tam- many man in office shall behave himeslf so that the others won't have to. houses go where they = -—____—_ PONDERING PREPAREDNESS. NDICATIONS that the President’s national defense programme ] will have the support of a majority of the nation’s legislators, as shown by The World’s canvass of Congress, are not weakened by the fact that not every Senator nor every member of the House is ready to commit, himself. Preparednel@ as an imperative issue has been but a brief time before the country., Remembering this, the amount of definitely stated opinion elicited by The World’s queries is beyond what might fairly be expected from cautious members of Congress out of school hours. “I have been too busy trying to save my crops to pay much attention to the Administration’s naval plans,” declares Representa- tive Helgesen of North Dakota—which expresses the state of mind of many conscientious citizens. From now on, however, there is no escaping the question. Oon- gressmen must study it. The country must ponder it. According to sound American methods, we shall thresh it out with the militaris on the one hand and the milksops on the other. In the end the indomitable good sense of the nation can be counted upon to stand on middle ground and get its way as it has before—even with Congress, pT a eee A Britisher going home to enlist climbed aboard the Ameri: can liner St. Louis with two ten-inch sticks of dynamite in his luggage. He hoped to demonstrate an easy way to dig trenches. Uncle Sam will talk it over with him (iret. ee eae nd een Eeeeoweey BOOKER T. WASHINGTON. tion of the United States loses the best leader and educator it ever had. The country loses the man who hae done more than any other to make the liberated negro of the South a self- respecting worker and citizen. This generation hailed Mr. Washington as the most sincere and persuasive spokesman of his race. He steered clear of politics. He wasted no time on dreams or th¢ories. He devoted his energies first and last to the practical job of teaching the negro to use his head and his muscles. But the teacher nevertheless found time to prove himself an eloquent pleader and a most efficient money getter in the service of the cause to which he gave his life, Tuskegee Institute was his work and will be his monument. Since he organized it in 1881 he had raised its annual income to nearly $300,000. He made it known and respected throughout the country. He won the esteem and co-operation of college presidente and emi- nent educators in every section. Booker T. Washington will be remembered as a man who did much toward solving one of the biggest problems any nation ever faced. He tackled it at the right end, WW" the death of Booker T. Washington the negro popula- ' With faith.and perseverance he taught the negro to shape his destiny with his own hands, He lifted him from dependence to independence. Hits From Sharp Wits. Many a man owes his success to his us is how the most ornery pup usual oreditors who cannot collect, Manages to cop out the prettiest girl, . * 6 —Columbla State, When first tried on prosperity per- A feotly fita but few. tact It is th favor of the optimist that| arose an. t i C ¥ man im willing OO de never & dead ‘un-—Deseret News. | net he could have done aa well es cee his more successful frie if he had Before he geta her he is always | iy pry succenarul PAYIne her attentions. After he gets | 7 CRGUERE Of 1 —AlbaRy Journal, he {s always paying her bills, 7 a 8 One of life's greatest mysteries to Agriculture ts what collegas teach; farming is what men do for a living. Sar a} There is hardly anything one can give another so unwelcome as ad- vice.—Pittsburgh Sun. Letters From the People money go to his relatives or to hers? ‘Also, if one of the two dies, does all What legal reader will set me right |the money forthwith become the sole the survivor? And can ‘om these points, which may be of | property of value and interest to others as|either one bequeath the whole sum; am? Ifa ayeeend and wife have a | or what share thereot? an acoount and both| reply to these queries will be of gon- and childless, does the'eral interest, I think, 8, 8, & ' the Prese Publishing Company, Nos. $3 to all find fault with the authorities and expect them to do A brief, clear 1 Fy RANA es YO The Evening World Daily Magazine, (Spilled! & swat, | | — By Roy L. 66] 'M sure you are going to be very I happy in Swellington Hall,” eaid Mrs. Jarr when she and Mr. and Mra, Hoker returned from their quest for a nest for the newly wedded pair, Mr. Jarr had also beon along, but he did not count. He did not count, although at the moment he was mentally figuring up what it had cost him tn taxicab tariffs and for the luncheon of the quartet. Reaching the appalling um total in his mind, Mr, Jarr gave another ap- Praising glance at the vapid Claude Hoker, bridegroom. Mr. Jarr had considered Claude Hoker a boob of nature and a simp of sorts, But he was not so sure now, for the bride- groom had gracefully escaped the Habilities incurred in Nouse hunting do luxe, Young Mra. Hoker simpered an Jarr’a opening re- id nothing, The fact was there was one little thing that stood In the way of her perfect hap- piness ae a dweller in Swellington Hall, the high cost of living apart- ment house, where her husband had just signed a lease for @ suite in cost them at least a dime, Mr. Hoker gazed yacantly down {nto the street from the front window of the Jarr apartment, It was a pleas- ant late autumn day and the window Was open. "Don't fidget at the window, my darling!” cried the bride sharply to her spouse, “You make me nervous!" Mr, Hoker sat down promptly, | “And don't slouch!" added the bride, “You're getting round-shouldered!" Mr. Hoker straightened up and hummed despairingly under his breath, “And don't hum!" the bride con- tinued, “It's awful bad manners in company, At the Bridge Club tourna- ments nobody is allowed to hum. If anybody hums at a bridge tournament all the other players rap on the table. Se don't hum, Claude, my petikans!” Mr, Jarr regarded Mr, Hoker with an expression of pity. The honey- }moon was over. Marital discipline was beginning for unfortunate pett- kana, “And what do you think, Mrs. Jarr? Precious is going to get a suit of clothes and wants to get a gray suit!" Mrs. Jarr glanced reprovingly a! Procious, as though his desire for a Bray suit presaged a dormant appe- | tite for the unworthy things of life, There was no bluff about the new suit, ‘The bride's uncle was a tailor ‘and had presented an order for a sult of clothes as a wedding gift to the happy pair. “I want a gray aut,” Mr, Hoker, “But you can't have @ gray sult, murmured The Jarr Family Copyright, 1919, by the Pres Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World), which every breath they drew would | Monda a McCardell kins?” asked the bride in a menacing tone. sweetsio,” said the bride firmix, “We| Honeykins dropped back into bis are going out a good deal this win- | seat. ter, and you must get a brown suit because it will match my furs. I have nothing to wear with your gray suit except my old chinchilla coat.” “But I have two brown sults no’ moaned the victim, “Well, you shall get another, hon,” declared the bride, “Brown is very becoming to me, isn’t it, Mrs. Jarr?” Mrs, Jarr said it was, and the un- happy newly married man moaned again, Mr, Jarr winced, The sufferings of the victim were pitiful to see, “I think I'll step out for a bit of fresh “Could I have @ drink of water?” be murmured feobly. “Water isn't good for you, lovey,” said young Mrs. Hoker quickly. “Water ts fattening.” “But I'm dreadfully thirsty,” mut- tered the unfortunate captive, “Are you so selfish that you would guzzle water when I ask you not to?” inquired the bride. Here she com- menced to weep. “Little did I think,” she sobbed, “that my tootledums would ever be so selfieh!” ‘The bride burst into tears again, and Mrs. Jarr gave Mr. Jarr an in- dignant glance, Mr. Jarr gazed at air,” he sald. “Like to come out,|the unfortunate Hoker with a com- Hoker?” passionate sigh. “Bure,” said the unhappy Hoker,|. The bridegroom butterfly days were all over now. He was getting the discipline meted out to all married males, His wife rising to his feet, “Would precious leave ite honey- ow. Refiections of a Bachelor Girl By Helen Rowland me PAA AAA PPP PDP PLP P LD Copyrighi, 1918, by the Prose Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World), IGNS that the honeymoon Is over: When he kisses her with his hat S ‘on hia head, his eye on the clock and his hand on the doorknob. A self-made man may brag about his “maker”; but @ self-made beauty keeps her origin dark. ‘The greatest miracle that could happen to any woman would be to be made love to by just one man in a way neither to shock her with Its sud- denness nor to wear out her patience with its inertia, . After a few years a husband never forgets to kiss his wife every morning and evening, but by that time he would do anything on earth tq avoid a discussion. Suddenly falling out of love gives you that same deadly sickening sensation as being in an elevator that stops with a jolt. ‘The woman who broods over her husband's past fiirtations is as foolish as the man who weeps over the bottles he emptied the night before. It isn’t what he’s had, dearle, but what he HASN'T had that iuterests any man. No man was ever so bald that a woman couldn't make him blush with pleasure by remarking what a pretty color his hair must have been, When your husband telephones that he ts “dying to see you and will do his best to break away from a business appointment in time to get |home for dinner, BUT"—— you may safely let the maid go off, and pre- ‘pare for a long, quiet evening of undisturbed repose, because he has already reserved a table, and has the tickets for the girl-girly show in |his pocket. Kiss: A combination of curtosity, sentiment, lip-salve, sachet, long practice and stale cigarettes, 0 Mr. Jarr Watches the Crushing Of One “Bridegroom Butterfly.” y. Coy The Stories Of Stories Plots of Immortal Fiction Masterpieces By Albert Payson Terhune SOOO | No. 73.—-THE LAZARETTE OF THE HUNTRESS, by W. Clark Russell. \ ILLIAM PEPLOE, a country clersyman's son, found himself, day in 1853, penniless and forlorn, on the East Indla docks in London. He was alone in the world, He had no trade nor pro i fession, He had but one ambition--to get out to Australia, where he had heard there were fortunes to be made. But he had no way of getting to Australia, He had no mo: and as he Was ignorant of the sea he could not hope to work his passage. So Be stood looking upward at the huge bulk of the 1,400-ton frigate-built ship Huntress, which was to ect out for Sydney, Australia, the same afternoon, i carrying the colony's new Govvernor and a swarm of lesser dignitarles and@, ok capitalists. At @ waterside tavern that day Peploe chanced to meet a sailor, Jem Back, who accosted him as an old friend, Peploe recognized the man a & former parishioner of his father's, Jem was now under-steward aboard the | Huntreas. Peploe begged for a chance to sail on the outgoing ship. Jem, | for old times’ sake, finally offered to stow him away in the lazarette, pidding ‘him keep out of aight until {t should be too late to put him ashore. | Accordingly, when the Huntress left port she carried one unlisted end invisible passenger, Mr. William Peploe. Guided (amd Tar" & provisioned) by Jem Back, he had crawled through H Mid a trap door forward of the stern cabin's bulkheads and 3 Stowaway. S$ into the hold, where he barked his shins over sharp AAAS? odgon of cargo boxes that seemed to move toward Bim from all sides through the dense blackness, Peploe found his way to a recess hehind some casks, where he prepared to wait until it should be safe to venture forth. There he sat, clutching the [canvas bag of biscuits and the water botties that Jem had given him. All about him was impenetrable and ill-amelling darkness. Presently, as the Huntress got under way, aeasickness was added to hia stock of miseries. After a time the tired stowaway fell asleep. Ho was awakened by the | opening of the hatchway. Some one was coming into the lararette, Peploe peered from behind the casks and held his breath, The newcomer moved atealthily. Peploe saw him close the hatch behind him, then flash a buliseye lantern from side to side as if exploring the place, | The man was pale, with grizzled beard, long hair and wildly etaring eyes, Peploe saw him draw from his pocket a brass cylinder, affix a line to it and attach the line's other end ta black keg. Then the intruder drew. | out @ key, wound up the cylinder as though it were a clock and crept away, | leaving Peploe alone once more tn the lazarette. | The stowaway groped forward in keen curiosity toward the cylfnder. The thing waa ticking. And all at once Peploe understood. It was an |tnfernal machine. The line was a fuse, and it connected with a powder keg. | With one wrench Peploe tore away the fuse. Then he rushed blindly | to the hatch and thence made his way to the deck, where he hailed the | first oMfcer he met. | “I'm just out of your lazarette.” gasped the panic-stricken Peploe, “where I've saved the ship from having her stern blown out He was dragged to the Captain's cabin, and there he told his story, | Investigation was made at once, The stowaway's report was proved true. Peploe vividly described the man he had eeen in the On rrrey, A Plot j lavaretto, The description fitted one John Howland, a steerage passenger. The Captain sent for him. But he { Frustrated. 3 sent too late. Howland was found lying in his berth, a his hand, his throat cut from ear to ear. bad Bet Long afterward a bottle he had thrown into the sea wae picked beach in the Azores, The bottle contained a letter from the eulciie ape that he sought revenge on a Magistrate who was on board the Huntress and who had once unjustly sent the writer to prison. “Ll am sort because of the si the letter continued, “for the many who must suffer of one, But that one must perish.” The Woman Who Dared By Dale Drummond Copprigit, 1915, by the Prem Publidhing Co. (The New OHAPTER XVI. Haskal saatcbes the teetrer trem URING the days following the|™y hand. park incident I had thought | my wratastens wTiieave anietaeoas much of my part in tt. Carefully |dixconnected!” he stormed. Then. I looked back to the first time I had| “Hello! Yes, this is Burroughs, go met George Lattimore, ‘and in noth- | Siead. Yastt + Gon’s quite tinder. ing could I blamo myself. I had not |Goodby., St Cleven. All right. told Haskall. He had not come in to| It had been a woman who called dinner, and the longer I thought | him. about it the more I feared be might | , Neither of us spoke was tenderly noting his every desire and then denying {t to him! ’ Pop’s Mutual Motor By Alma Woodwerd Ss Rie Yea, yaaa T was not until Ma had carved and served Pop that she noficed the little, flickering smile playing about his tps, It was not a healthy emile—it was oryptic and gullty. It riled Ma, “Now what have you gone and done? she asked suspiciously. “I'm smiling because to-night I'm going to make some real money out of the car—first blood—see?” “What! You're going to sell it after you prevented me from doing it last week?" gasped Ma indignantly. “Of course not. Why should I want to sell eomething I can make money o Ma coldly, “Don't try to make a good story of it because you always forget the point, Just tell facts and"— “Billy Masters lives in Swamp Hills,” interrupted Pop, “He's bought bis hi can't eell—so he's gotta stay there. Three months | ago the big stuff of a Mayor of Swamp J Hills got bold of @ piece of one of the engines of the Maine. granite pedestal built and inscribed and put it up at a crossroads near Billy's house, all worked round with an iron fence. The thing bas Billy's goat—it looks like the lid of an old coal range, and all bis friends give him the ha-ha when they aee it. So he's paying me $10 to go up there to- night in the car and Kidnap the relic, ‘Then, what will be the consternation of the town when they wake up in the morning und find that some one's eloped with the acrap iron!" “Stop chuckling!” commanded Ma, “Are you crazy or only simple? Do you want to be prosecuted by law? | Do you want to be fined and jailed |wud get your name into the papers as @ common thief?" “Don't be foolish,” pacified Pop. “It's @ lark. Up in a hole like Swamp Hills who's around after dark? Folks go to bed at 8 P. M, I'm earning ten dollars and Billy's gratitude. Be- side that | have some fun. Who'll be there to catch me?” Just then the phone trilled im- periously, Pop went to answer it, ‘I don’t understand you,” declared | ¥°' He had a) ™ in until we not understand or believe how utterly |) oy at the breakfast tabie “T hav unprovoked the ingult, as I considered | ing, Haskall.”' 1 commence saan ft, had been. Unless I had further | bering my good resolutions and cause for complaint, I felt i was|!n to speak as if nothing had wiser to keep atill. pened, “Could you meet me eome- In the shining latenese of the after- Where for luncheon” “No, [have an ” noon I returned from a call upon Mrs, ee Larkin, A great friendship had grown When Haskall came in I was asleep. In the morning I told him of my call on Mrs, Larkin, and of meeting Eric! Lucknow, who had»returned, on tho stops. “That's right! go to Mrs, Larkin’s all you want to, The old man may be of use to me. He's the shrowdest man of my acquaintance, As for Lucknow, he can keep away.” Just then the telephot "Ni: engage! ae it ed had @ late luncheon?” up between us, to” which Haakalllociocks, “Tet "® bad mentioned 11 made no objections. I started up the! “Didn't I tell you T had a: cage. {ment!” Then, “A woman . pluoe ie down. I paused, startled. The dark here.” eyes of Eric Lucknow gazed down! ‘Does Madeiaine Arnott home?" i ata reek ot ay. Way vp, a T asked, quietly, but T was most frightened at the wave of glad-| “She has no husband,” HasleaM q plied, shortly, ki “When did you reture? PR sid & 1a do!” I said imanely, as I tool #1 was sorry the moment I saf@ it » | But I had allowed myself to Z. T camo back only this morning. He made no excuses for coming to| stung into replying foolishly. “won't you come in?” James had| menpokel” 1 continued, “you re- opened the door, friends, people, both men and women, been here before, earlier in the after- |; ro wore congenial, who visited me, 1 will call to-morrow, if I/ that honid you como home and find them here you cannot say I have den you not neglect me 1 sho care nothing for others; but I an ones o'clock. steps just as a man turned to come at home. Eat your luncheon at me. 4 afraid to look at him. ness that rushed over me. “So she takes other women’s,” outstretched hand. in false hopes again, and so was see me. I was glad that he did not, member, I told you I must has “No, thank you, it t# late, I have T intend to have them. I tell you so anything without telling you, Di my loneliness no longer.” He made no reply, but I wi Dap- pier that Thad taken a stand of pete / sort, All the morning 1 was uneasy, Bia’ with Jappointment of eleven o'clock some woman meant probably that he was going to take her somewhere to luncheon, I tormented myself with the thought that tt might be Made- laine Arnott. I had become obsessed with the idea that she was t my Nemesis—and his.) PYOv® (To Be Contin. 4.) Doliars and Sense By H. J. Barrett. A Simple Plan Which Changed the Mental Attitude of This Office Foree. 66 the normal dndividual work J in reanonable amounts is as necessary as food in main- rang, & very unusual thing at that time in the morning. A# Haskall made no I answered it. this is 1919, No, Mr, Bur- Would you like to speak to him me, The members of the office 01 took no interest in their tasks bee sansa the work seemed pointless and “Oh, it's you, Jim?” Ma heard bim say. “Well, if you want to make a date for to-night, I can't—got one al- ready. Say, what's tho matter with | your voice, it sounds awful funny? | Arrested? ‘Fifty ddUars bail! Want me to come up with ii—where? Swamp | Hills? What'd they get you for?) Using a cut-out? Gee! Motoreycle cop on every corner—all night aer- vice—out for suckers—for the love of Pete you don't aay! All right, Jim, Vl speed it up with the fifty. | Goodby.” | “I wonder whether Billy Masters | was trying to double cross me,” he! mused aloud, “saying Swamp Hills was as silent as the tomb after & o'clock? All for a moasly ten spot, | ‘ t °s itty mim ossible ten equals forty to the bad,” murmured Ma, And this time SHE smiled cryptically, | \ taining a healthy and happy frame of mind," said an executive who ts a keen student of human nature, “Rec- reation loses tts zest unless indulged ir eparingly as a change from work, “But for work to exert its benefl- cent effect the worker must feel ‘that it is of real value; that he Is accom- “Lat once installed a sy by the clerks were con the plant in groups. Th the manuforvure of our pi the raw material to the finishe ele, And their own connection with all es activity was made olear, “The change in their attitud amazing. “They began toace ee ae were Very useful cogs ‘ plishing something worth while. This | wheel of industry. ‘(hey rotten Stent ty why the perfunctory efforts exerted | their desks with a focly ned sto feeling that their In @ gymnasium fall as a substitute © great acheme ne for useful labor, “Hence many workers in minor capacities lack interest in their la- bors, “This was @ condition which pre-/| efforts counted In th things, “The quality of their wi ly improved; they coased “ta at the clock; they felt that although the niche they ocoupted might be emai vatied In our offloe up to @ couple of] it was Indispensable, "A epirit ote years ago. operation developed, | wonde ‘that “After devoting some thought to the|I never realized the value of thie iéea, problem @ simple solution ocourred to} years before,” Copsright, 1915, by the Prew Publishing Co.-(The New York Broniue World), ’ t r