The evening world. Newspaper, August 13, 1919, Page 18

_ VOLUME 60..........5..+ COLLAPSING PRICES. I THE SHADOW of Prosecution can affect Profiteering as much 2 4 Hon ‘The size of the damaged demanded by the theatrical man- Za: agers from their striking actors would seem to be prima facie «evidence that the returns to the box office have been highly out of proportion to those in the green room. we ie —_——_-++. ) ~ CHICKENS COMING HOME. Be : R. HUGH FRAYNE, a well known local organizer of the BY American Federation of Labor, is quoted as expressing mild , a surprise at a réquest from sundry New York physicians for ion to amalgamate with that beneficent body. _... Why should he be in any way astonished? The men in question | “are not fee practitioners. These are well enough protected by asso- g _ elation and ethics. The petitioners are doctors employed by jnsurance _ ad other corporations in examinations for policies or in welfare work. ; "They find themselves compensated far below the trades for whose uplift they labor, and seek the only.obvious relief, which is to become ASSOCIATED PRESS, PPh ual em PAT veceeseesNO, 91,176 ‘as it has since President Wilson presented the People’s case in ‘ Congress, what result will follow a genuine effort to break the - strangle hold high prices have had for the last six months or more, since the excuse of war ceased to be valid? || There already has been a great relief. It is but a fraction of ae. ‘what should come to pat the country on # safe and reasonable business ' basis of plenty and moderate prices. The generous soil, thé princely mines, the resistless water powers, the great forests, all yield liberally | and will s0 continue. It is only man who checks, grabs and grinds his fellows. The elements of wealth are always at hand, but circum- stances enthrall their distribution and hardships follow. That these y een be corrected is now in evidence. More declines are certain. When oggay is reached the country can go ahead in safety and con- | va part of an organization able to establish an equalizationof pay. 7 treasures of Spain. Cp grain for alcohol will become bowl. svily on the sugar Knote that the Civic Reform League | ¢, proposed plans to enlist help of inhabitants of New York City to the city and make it the most elty to the eye of visitors and iy ‘wage earners fight the profiteers ¢ ? Then when things boosters’ he ther the best kind o! ir peop! lat nor & Bull in thin! KABLANICAW AL 1% Allen 8t. nor! and 1 fortably, the Civic form League iy would ga a Painters now want $1 per hour and a five-day week. This does not refer to budding Blakelocks, but to the house variety. — £ SUGAR IN ALCOHOL.’ YP ANE of the nowest industrial phenomena growing out of c “f a conditions is the demand for raw sugar to make alcohol for trade uses. It promises to be cdlosgal. Wood alcohol, once a product, now brings $1.42 per gallon—about $1.00 above its price. The sugar article will cost about half as much, and d almost as little as'the wood article formerly cost. ‘The use negligible, but the blow will fall 3 Letters From the People. nye tm ae Wt ity care to help have been of end- oo called their hom " M“ tourists or visitors who this discrimination, “Alcohol is a curse. going’ to destroy the trafic in liquoi The Anti-Saloon League le stating, a Fos muita eee rine. 5° force tlons and never removed his gloves, revent people who| When you see an animal so marked, Scaatlaing tees ralek gue ha] ‘aim low and shoot to kill, for it ts rac religion, ‘The simple tual Socialist. truth ought to shock the people and| ‘'s ceaaly Intellect Ye lawmakers of this Nation Into some- thing like resistance. Sincerely, AN OPEN INTELLIGENCE, ‘in Moscow!” said Mra, Costick to United States and do not believe alcohol is ‘|, The movement is certain to expand. That educators, profession 3 and clerks should eventually be joined into some form of union inevitable. It is not given that one set of men, by force and cun-| g, Whether as capitalists or workmen, should forever enjoy all the of combination, oppression and greed. f op | Reports come trom the New Jersey hinterland that the mosquitoes are exhibiting unusual ferocity and demanding more than thelr customary share of blood. Profiteers! es UNDERSEA TREASURES. that $5,000,000 in gold has been salvaged from the sunken Dominion liner Laurentic is a reminder of the riches resting en the bottom of the sea as a result of the German submarine against commerce. Great possibilities exist in the way of lost cargoes, and even the vessels themselv ‘were sunk in shallow water and only await the x to come again to the surface. 2 ~~ Where is something fascinating in this treasure-trove of the sea. ‘world likes to think of great galleons, whose bars of silver and’ remain to be recovered. Coal and iron may be more prosaic but at existing prices promise richer rewards than the long diers, sailors and marines who lost their lives in the war. I would like ing to your attention the fact Victory buttons are supplied to the soldiers only and not the sailors. Having seen service with the Atlantic Fleet during the war, I ap- plied with my discharge at a navy recruiting office for a button, referred to the Army 39 Whitehall Street. There I was told that the buttons were for the soldiers Don't you think this unfair? navy had not been on the the soldiers would never have reached France, A suggestion from you to authorities may remove Yours truly, SBAGO: Het os the Trail, ‘To the Editor of The Evening World; Facts are facts, Any man or any group of men saying something is|hook-nosed men with very short, morally right or wrong are stating |Mear-butler "side whiskers, & religion, because morals are the But @ funda-| black cravat at all seasons, Also, to mental law of this nation is freedom Teague | anys: | avy allk eyeglass ribbon, that money many of er and the hanged I was job By Roy L. Copyright, 1919, by The Press of the Order of the RS. JARR, looking quite cool in what Mr, Jarr would have de- scribed as a neat muslin dress, though doubtless it wab something else again, came bustling in, after Mr, Jarr had arrived home, Mr, Jarr did not look either neat or cool, for he wasn't, “Hot weather Is no excuse for your being around the house that way was Mrs, Jarr’s greeting. “Put on your collar and necktie and your coat quick! Mr, and Mra, Costick are coming!" 4 “The Costicks are coming, heigho, heigho!" murmured Mr, Jarr, “Now please don’t try to be funny,” said Mrs, Jarr. “The Costicks are people we should know. They are both Intellectual Socialists, I mot them at the Sttryvers’, They are vei rich and have no ¢hildren, and have @ yacht and motor cars and a beau- tiful country place and they may in- vite us, and we would have a grand time, The Costicks sympathize with the proletariat in their struggles for class consciousness, You do not like intellectual people, but I do.” “There they are now, I suppose,” said Mr. Jarr as the bell rang long and loud, “Their pushing at the bell has a cynical Modernist ring to it. They must expect to find, in our case, nobody home, physically as well as mentally.” + But Mrs, Jarr did not answer, She had flown to meet the Intellectual Socialists. “Charmed to meet you,” drawled Mrs, Costick when Mr, Jarr was in- troduced, “Penelope, why do you say you are charmed,” asked Mr, Costick testily, “ao you think Mr, Jarr is of the snake species?” Mr, Costick was one of those tall, He wore a stock and old fashioned wit: A pair of the heaviest, largest tortoiseshell @yeglasses with’ broad, enys: could buy. He also wore cloth top aiters and wes creased in all direc- ‘ The Jarr Family ‘McCardell Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World). or Mr. and Mrs. Jarr Entertain Two Shining Specimens Social Revolution. Mrs. Jarr, and glanced around her through a single glass lorgnette. Such a lorgnette is the’ hallmark of the female Intellectual Socialist. There is no closed season for these, Shoot at any time. “Yes,” Mrs. Costick went on, “as we passed up the street, I remarked to Mr, Costick that jt looked like the Skobeloff Prospekt, where Lenine, the Liberator, had a thousand Tsarists executed on May Day by the Red Guard, People on the street heard me say so and stopped and stared.” “If you didn't look weird, you wouldn't be stared at,” remarked Mr, Costick in a harsh, dry voice, “As a student of heredity,” replied Mrs. Costick, “I might retort that I inherit my personal appearance from my father, He was a rugged man, but an honest one.” As Mr. Costick’s father had died In jail while serving a sentence for wholesale swindling, the wifely retort went home, But as @ satirist, Mr, Costick did falter. “I beg you not to lose your temper, Penelope,” he remarked. “There's epilepsy in your family, you know,” “Roderick, you should have exhib- ited at the Bazaar of Bad Taste, held in Petrograd last winter by our dear Trotsky,” said Mrs. Costick, with aciqulated emphasis. “Simply mak- ing a few remarks would have gained you the death distinction!” And so, for an hour or more, In- tellectual Socialists satirized all over the place, fortunately occupying thelr full powers of satirization om ach other, After they had gone, Mr, Jarr breathed a sigh of relief. “I was wrong!” he said. “Those dear people did not come here or do not go anywhere to sell anything, not even Bolshevist books, They only snarl thelr way through the world, and especially each other, in the cause of the Bloodthirsty Brother- hood!” “And yet," said Mrs, Jarr with a sigh, “those people have money and leisure and everything to live for, and yet all they do is to say cutting things to each other for Humanity’s sake. “Well,” said Mr. Jarr, “let us be- “A dreadful street you livé on, my dear; just like the Skobeloff Prospekt have like the Bourgeoisie and speak kindly to each other as part of our class consciousness!" Such is the good influénce of a bad example, even when set by the best of our Bolshevists, 1e Same Old Wheeze! 2th, one, Lucile the Waitress By Bide Dudley Copyright, 1919, by The Press Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World), She Gets a Good Laugh Out of a Couple of the Cafe’s Literary Victims. “es IN'T it funny,” said Lucile the Waitress, as, the Friend- ly Patron took another look at his hat on a hook behind him, “how it simply turns some people's head to get their names in the paper?” “It is rather funny,” he replied. “Yes, I'll say it is," she went on, “This morning I got all mixed up in &@ newspaper fame argument at this counter, but as it handed me a laugh there was no use in me getting bellin- cost about it. “It's during the rush hour that It comes up. About & million guys are pounding on the counter for their breakfast when @ little skinny squirt shoves a newspaper over at me and says: “‘Look what I wrote in the paper. I got my name to it’ “You? I says. ‘Gwan—you're no writer, you're a counter leaper.” “Well, I got a poem in the paper, all right,’ he says. “I get you,’ I says. ‘You slipped the edi! half rate on a pair of sox or something. Want some Java with them hen fruit?” “It gets his goat. ‘Say,’ he says, right peeved, ‘I don’t sell sox.’ ‘No,’ I says, ‘you write poetry over at the Lane Star Dry Goods Store, Every store should have a poet.’ “At that another guy gets in, ‘Say,’ he says to the little one, ‘what's the use of makin’ merry over a few lines lke them you got in the paper? I had a long letter printed a few days ago. It was about whether the unions ought to strike or get struck. They signed my name to it and never changed a line, Now, where do you get off with that eight-line poetry thing? “"But, my dear sir,’ says the little man, ‘my poem was written after a night of thought.’ “tand I wrote my letter after a night of poker.’ “I see where it’s time to get in. ‘Listen, gents,’ I says, ‘you both have undoubtedly grabbed old King Fame by the proboxcius and are right there with the noted stuff, But this joint is for the famous and infamous allke and you will oblige the street's fa- vorite little arm waitress if you will sick her onto the kind of poison you prefer, Come on—less pester the old chef.’ “Well, sir, those two allegical writ- ers keep it up. ‘They refuse to tell me if they want any more td cat, and finally’ I leave them to their fate and get busy shooting the bean for sev- eral other victims, When I get back a thitd man has got into tWe argu- ment. “But I say a poem is worth more than a common letter,’ says the first writer, “‘And I say you're wrong,’ shoots back the second. “‘T'll tell you guys what to do,’ says the newcomer, ‘You write an- other poem and letter and hand ‘em to me, I'll show ‘em to my editor friend, Horace Greeley, and he'll buy ‘em if he likes 'em. The! one that brings the most dough from Greeley wins the contest.’ ‘ “The other two.ecide to do it. To- morrow morning the three will meet here and the two writers will hand over to the other fellow their poem and letter, He'll do the rest, Great scheme, eh?” “Yes, indeed,” replied the Friendly Patron with a smile. “Say,” said Lucile a moment later, “I always had the writing stability. T've got half a dozen essays and hunks of poetry up home, Wonder if I couldn't cash on ‘em, Where is this editor, Greeley, got bis office?” “Greeley’s been dead many years.” “He has?” Lucile thought @ mo- ment. “Well,” she concluded, “I can see where that third guy's going to have a lot of silence and fun in here to-morrow. Bullleve me, Uncle, they’s something putrid in Petro- ———_——_ INTERPRETING THE OMENS. N his youth Mark Twain edited a | weekly journal in a small western town, says the Youth's Companion. A subscriber wrote to him one day to remark that he had discovered a spider concealed in the folds of a re- cently delivered paper. The writer wanted to know whether such an oc- currence was a sign of good or bad tuck. ‘The young editor replied in the next issue as follows: “Constant Reader: The appearance of a spider in a copy of last week's paper was a sign of neither good nor bad luck; that intelligent insect was merely study!.g our columns in order to asgertain whether any store in the neighborhood had failed to advertise in our paper, in order that he might make for that establishment and there weave a Web across the. doorway, |Sayings of Mrs. Solomon WS LVAS Y. Ah By Helen Rowland Coprright, 1919, by The Press Publishing Company (The New York Evening World). There Is No Pity Under Heaven Greater Than That Which the Married Man and the Single- Footer Feel For Each Other. Now, in Babylon, there 4 And, in their himself a wife. Then, the other, mourned him, And the wim mightily, and sighed: “Yea, verily, my Brother! But, the matrimonial net. _ sented. elor extended unto his friend a cigar. “Nay, Friend! Then the Bachelor said: saw that all the shades were lifted at “Help! Let me depart, I say. sight of the bird! neck! “Farewell, farewell! eeen for the dust of his running. And as he fied, the Married Man “Poor Roob! by a ‘Webster who worked twenty nized his genius. But here we find a calling. works are regarded as voluminous. Ben. or Benjamin, Jonson, was born in Westminster in 1574, a month after the death of his father, but his family wag of Scotch extraction. They came of the Johnstons of Annandale, the name having been 80 far changed in its migration south- ward. The dramatisi'’s mother mar- ried again, and whatever might have been his father’s position in life, bis stepfather was a master bricklayer. 'This second parent allowed him to obtain a good education; he went to Westminster school, and in due time proceeded to Cambridge. But before he had been long in the university the necessary funds were ound wanting, and Ben returned home bricklayer. This employment, of which, in after years, he was often derisively reminded, proved uncon- genial, He “could not endure,” he tells us, “the occupation of brick- layer,” so he tried the military pro- fession, und joined the army in Flanders. But defore long he re- turned home, sickened of the,sword, “bringing with him,” “says Gifford, “the reputation of a brave man, & smattering of Dutch and an empty purse.” ‘At this critical juncture, being @ good scholar, and devoted to learning and literature, Jonson commenced writing for the stage, Before he had obtained any great literary noto- riety he attained to one less satis- factory by getting into prison for killing @ man in a duel. Gratually his fame became established, and for many years—after the death of Shakespeare—he retained undisputed possession of the highest poetic eml- nence. He grew into great favor with James I, and found constant employ- ment in writing the court masques, and similar compositions for great occasions, which among the nobility and public bodies in those days af- forded occupation for the pen of poets, He also went to France for a short time as tutor to Sir Walter Raleigh, with whom, as with many other great men, Jonson lived on intimate terms, ; where he might dwell in undisturbed peace,” About the ,time of’ Jonson's visi with a heavy heart, to become @, bag my Son, unto the parable of the Benedict and tne Bachelor, welt two perfectly happy men; and one was married and one was a single-footer, and their names were House Dog and Free Wolf. college days, they had been friende, even as David atid Jonathan, borrowing each other's moneys, using each other's razors, appropriating each other’s clothes and chumming together without fuss or @Warrel, which is the wonder and despair of women. For neither so much as touched the other’s PIPD, nor looked at the other's GIRL, ee And, in time, it befell that one of them took unto For, who oan escape Kismet!—or a Woman! as “The Dead and Married” ARB For marriage ie a knife that severeth friendship; and neyer lived there a woman who welcomed her husband’s bachelor friends, And lo, after many years they foregathered again. jarried Man lifted up his voice and bayed boastingly of his Home, and his Wife, and his great Happiness, so that the Bachelor envied “Alas, alas, a single man is a wretched, miserable thing!” And the other condoled with him, saying: come thou and dine at mine house and I will introduce thee unto a Sweet Girl.” For thus do the Safely-Hooked seek always to lure the Unhooked into And because it was the month of roses and romance, and moonlight and ‘midsummer weariness, the Bachelor forgot his judgment and oon- For his soul was asop with sentiment. Now, as they turned their feet toward the suburban trains, the Bach But the other sighed and answered: I smoke no more. My Wife doth not LIKD it.” “Lo, it is hot and dusty and I am athirst. Come with me, for I know a place where the 2 per cent. still floweth.” But the Married Man protested, saying: more—and we MUST NOT miss thé five-fifteen! Then the Bachelor sought to converse of books and sports and the latest musical comedy; but he soon perceived that the Married Man knew them not, and could talk only of lawn mowers and garden seed and golf. And when they came unto the house of the Married Man the Bachelor Nay, I prithee! I drink no the SAME height, and a rubber plant stood at the right and the left of the doorway. Then his soul sickened within him, and he raised his voice, crying: Nay, in vain is the lime spread in All-too-plain, I see the mark of the COLUAR upon thy For I never will be tied up in the back yard!” And he departed into the night, travelling so fast that he could not de looked after him, sighing: He knoweth not what he misseth—the Slacker!” 4 For there is no pity under heaven equal to that which the House Dog and the Free Wolf feel for eaeh other! Selah, Ben Jonson A Former Bricklayer Who Refused to Be Knighted King. £ have read how Patrick Henry, of “Give me liberty or give the death” fame, was a dire failure as a storekeeper, und of Nowh arduous years before any one recog: man, Ben Jonson, an English drama’ ist, who died. 282 years ago, who found that bricklaying was not to his Much of Jonson's writing was lost, yet it is known that his surviving Much of Jonson's life ix lost in ob- scurity; partly from the usual neglect of his age in recording coptemporary ‘history, but still more from the scandals and misrepresentations of those numerqus maligners which his fame or his bluntness raised up against him. to France, the King, among other proofs of kindness, made him poet laureate, with a life pension. In 1618 the poet made a pedestrian tour into Scotland, mainly, it was surmised, to visit his friend, the poet Drummond. Here he drank freely and indulged in the hearty egotism of a roysterer, and spoke djsparagingly of many of his contemporaries, a lit- tle to the disgust of the modest Scottish poet, who took memoranda of his conversation, later published. Jonson cared little for worldly dig- nity, James wished to knight him, but Jonson eluded the honor. He liked the love of men better. A jovial companion, an affectionate friend, he was ever as open-handed as he war open-hearted. When’ he had money his friends shared it or feasted on it. ~ Toward the close of his life, when sickness overtook him, and his popu- larity somewhat declined after the [death of King James, he fell into poyerty, Hg was even reduced so tar | as to ask for assistance; “My noblest Lord and best Patron: “I send no borrowing epistie to pro- voke Your Lordship, for I have neither fortune to repay, nor security to engage that will be taken; but le make @ most humble petition to Your Lordship's bounty, to succour my present necessities this good time of Easter, and it shall conclude all beg- ging requests hereafter on the bebas* of your truest Beadsman and mom Humble Servant, BJ. “To the Karl of Newcastle,” Ben Jonson's sickness and incapacity continued. When -he died he was buried in Westminster Abbey. ‘The troubles of the civil wars prevented the erection of a suitable monument One of Ben Jonson's friends gave a mason eighteen pence to cut an in- scription upon his grave—"O Rare Ben Jonson.” Some have spoken of the legend as if it were a thing profane in the sacred place of tombs; but it fittingly expresses the character of a man who had many friends among the great and among the unregarded; no man wrote more loving verses to those whom he loved—"Rare Bem Jonson,” Py. \