(Continued from last week.) But after a few months Father Rheumatism got him and he was sent 'to Blighty; the air in the wake of his stretcher was blue with curses. Old Scotty surely could swear ; some of his outbursts actually burned you. No doubt, at this writing, he is “somewhere in Blighty” pussy footing it on a bridge or along the wall of some munition plant with- the “G. R.” or Home Defense corps. CHAPTER XVII. Out in Front. After tea Lieutenant Stores of our section came into the dugout and in- formed me that I was “for” a reconnoi- tering patrol and would carry six Mills bombs. At 11:30 that night twelve men, our lieutenant and myself went out in front on a patrol in No Man’s Land. We cruised around in the dark for about two hours, just knocking about looking for trouble, on the lookout for Boche working parties to see what they were doing. Around two in the morning we were carefully picking our way about thirty yards in front of the German barbed wire, when we walked into a Boche covering party nearly thirty strong, Then the music started, the fiddler ren- dered his bill, and we paid. Fighting in the dark with a bayonet is not very pleasant. The Germans took it on the run, but our officer was no novice at the game and didn’t fol- low them. He gave the order “down on the ground, hug it close.” Just in time, too, because a volley skimmed over our heads. Tken in low tones we were told to separate and crawl back to our trenches, each man on his own. We could see the ilashes of their rifles in the darkness, but the bullets were going over our heads. We lost three men killed and one wounded in the arm. If it hadn’t been for our officer's quick thinking the whole patrol would have probably been wiped out. After about twenty minutes’ wait we went out again and discovered that the Germans had a wiring party work-. ing on their barbed wire. We returned to our trenches unobserved with the information and our machine guns im- mediately got busys The next night four men were sent out to go over and examine the Ger- man barbed wire and see if they had A Hidden Gun. cut lanes through it; if so, this pres- aged an early morning attack on our trenches. Of course I had to be one of the four selected for the job. It was just like sending a fellow to the undertaker’s to order his own coffin. At ten o’clock we started out, armed with three bombs, a bayonet and re- volver, After getting into No Man's Land we separated. Crawling four or five feet at a time, ducking star shells, with strays cracking overhead, I reached their wire. I scouted along this inch by inch, scarcely breathing. I could hear them talking in their trench, my heart was pounding against my ribs. One false move or the least moise from me meant discovery and almost certain death. After covering my sector I quietly crawled back. I had gotten about half way when I noticed that my revolver was missing. It was pitch dark. I turned about to see if I could find it; ¢ feo Q ren - 4 91 l < I -~ o GC AN AMERICAN SOLDIER WHO WENT ARITIURGUY IMPLY MACHINE GUNNER, SERVING IN FRANCE——= To 1917 BY | ARTHUR GUY EMPEY it couldn’t be far away, because about three or four minutes previously I had felt the butt in the holster. I crawled around in circles and at last found it, then started on my way back to our trenches, as I thought. Pretty soon I reached barbed wire, and was just going to give the pass- word when something told me not to. I put out my hand and touched one of the barbed wire stakes. It was iron. The British are of wood, while the German are iron. My heart stopped beating; by mistake I had crawled back to the German lines. I turned slowly about and my tunic caught on the wire and made a loud ripping noise. A sharp challenge rang out. I sprang to my feet, ducking low, and ran madly back toward our lines. The Germans started firing. The bullets were biting d11 around me, when bang! I ran smash into our wire, and a sharp challenge, “’Alt, who comes there?” rang out. I gasped out the password, and, groping my way through the lane in the wire, tearing my hands and uniform, I tumbled into our trench and was safe, but I was a nervous wreck for an hour, until a drink of rum brought me round. CHAPTER XVIII. Staged Under Fire. Three days after the incident just re- lated our company was relieved from the front line and carried. We stayed in reserve billets for about two weeks when we received the welcome news that our division would go back of the line “to rest billets.” We would re- main in these billets for at least two months, this in order to be restored to our full strength by drafts of recruits from Blighty. Everyone was happy and contented at these tidings; all you could hear around the billets was whistling and singing. The day after the receipt of the order we hiked for five days, mak- ing an average of about twelve kilos per day pa we arrived at the small town of O'—. It took us about three days to get settled, and from then on our cushyy time started. We would parade from 8:45 in the morning until 12 noon. Then except for an occasional billet or brigade guard we were on our own. For the first four or five afternoons I spent my time in bringing up to date my neglected correspondence. Tommy loves to be amused, and be- ing a Yank, they turned to me for something new in this line. I taught them how to pitch horseshoes, and this game made a great hit for about ten days. Then Tommy turned to Amer- ica for a new diversion. I was up in the air until a happy thought came to me. Why not write a sketch and break Tommy in as an actor? One evening after “lights out,” when you are not supposed to talk, I impart- ed my scheme in whispers to the sec- tion, They eagerly accepted the idea ct forming a stock company and could hardly wait until the morning for further details. After parade, the next afternoon I was almost mobbed. Everyone in the section wanted a part in the proposed: sketch. When I informed them that it. would take at' least ten days of hard work to write the plot, they were bit- terly disappointed. I immediately got busy, made a desk out of biscuit tins! in the corner of the billet, and put up a sign “Empey & Wallace Theatrical Co.” About twenty of the section, upon reading this sign, immediately applied for the position of office boy. I accepted the twenty applicants, and sent them on scouting parties through- out the deserted French village. These parties were to search all the attics for discarded civilian clothes, and ‘any- thing that we could use in the props of our proposed company. About five that night they returned covered with grime and dust, but load-, ed down with a miscellaneous assort- ment of everything under the sun. They must have thought that I was going to start a department tore, judging from the different .things they brought back from their pillage. ! After eight days’ constant writing I completed a two-act farce comedy which I called “The Diamond Palace Saloon.” Upon the suggestion of one of the boys in the section I sent a proof of the program to a printing house in London. Then I assigned the different parts and started rehearsing. David Belasco would have thrown up his hands in despair at the material which I had to use. Just imagine trying to teach a Tommy, with a strong cockney accent, to impersonate a Bowery tough or a Southern negro. Adjacent to our billet was an open field. We got busy at one end of it and constructed a stage. We secured the lumber for the stage by demolishing an old wooden shack in the rear of our billet. The first scene was supposed to rep- — : resent a street on the Bowery in New: York, while the scene of the second act was the interior of the Diamond. Palace saloon, also on the Bowery. In the play I took the part of Abe Switch, a farmer, who had come from Pumpkinville Center, Tenn., to make: his first visit to New York. t In the first scene Abe Switch meets: the proprietor of the Diamond Palace: saloon, a ramshackle affair which to the owner was a financial loss. The proprietor’'s name was Tom; Twistem, his bartender being named Fillem Up. After meeting Abe, Tom and Fillem' | Up persuaded him to buy the place, praising it to the skies and telling wondrous tales of the money taken over the bar. While they are talking, an old Jew named Ikey Cohenstein comes along, and Abe engages him for cashier. After" | engaging Ikey they meet an old Southern negro called Sambo, and upon the suggestion of Ikey he is en gaged as porter. Then the three of Fifth theater, on the corner of Ammo street and Sandbag terrace. General admission was one-half france. First ten rows in orchestra one frane, and boxes two franes. By this time our printed programs had returned from London, and I fur‘her announced that on the night of the first performance a program would be given free of charge to men holding tickefs costing a franc or over. We had an orchestra of seven men and seven different instruments. This orchestra was excellent, while they were not playing. ' The performance was scheduled to start at 6 p. mi. i At 5:15 there was a mob in front of ' our one entrance and it looked like a | big night. We had two boxes each ac- ' commodating four people, and these we immediately sold out. Then a | brilliant idea came to Ikey Cohenstein. | Why not use the rafters overhead, call i them boxes, and charge two francs for je seat on them? The only difficulty wd Preparing the “Chow.” them, arm in arm, leave to take pos- session of this wonderful palace which Abe has just paid $6,000 for. (Cur- tain.) In the second act the curtain rises on the interior of the Diamond Palace saloon, and the audience gets its first Shock. The saloon looks like a pig- pen, two tramps lying drunk on the floor, and the bartender in a dirty shirt with his sleeves rolled up, asleep with his head on the bar. Enter Abe, Sambo and Ikey, and the fun commences. One of the characters in the second act was named Broadway Kate, and I had an awful job to break in one of the Tommies to act and talk like a woman. Another character was Alkali Ike. an Arizona cowboy, who just before the close of the play comes into the saloon and wrecks it with his revolver. We had eleven three-hour rehearsals before ¥ thought it advisable to pre- sent the sketch to the public. The whole brigade was crazy to witness the first performance. This performance was scheduled for Friday night and everyone was full of antici- pation; when bang! orders came through that the brigade would move at two that afternoon. Cursing and blinding was the order of things upon the receipt of this order, but we moved. That night we reached the little vil- iage of S and again went into rest billets. We were to be there two, weeks. Our company immediately got! busy and scoured the village for al suitable place in which to present our: production. Then we received another shock. A rival company was already estab- lished in the village. They called themselves “The Bow Bells,” and put on a sketeH entitled, “Blighty— What Hopes?” They were the divi- sional concert party. We hoped they all would be soon in Blighty to give us a chance. This company charged an admission of a franc per head, and that night our company went en masse to see their performance. It really was good. I had a sinking sensation when I thought of running my sketch in op- position to it. In one of their scenes they had a soubrette called Flossie. The soldier that took this part was clever and made a fine-appearing and chic girl. We immediately. fell in love with her until two days after, while we were on a march, we passed Flossie with “her” sleeves rolled up and the sweat pouring from “her” face unloading shells from a motor lorry. As our section passed her I yelled out: “Helo, Flossie; Blighty—What Hopes?’ Her reply made our love die out instantly. “Ah, go to h—11!" . This brought quite a laugh from the marching column directed at me, and I instantly made up my mind that our sketch should immediately run in op- position to “Blighty—What Hopes?” When we returned to our billet from the march, Curley Wallace, my the- atrical partner, came running over to me and said he had found a swanky place in which to produce our show. After taking off my equipment, and followed by the rest of the section, I went over to the building he had picked out. It was a monstrous barn with a platform at one end which would make an ideal stage. The section got right on the job, and before night had that place rigged out in apple-pie order. The next day was Sunday and after ¢hurch parade we put all our time on a dress rehearsal, and it went fine. I made four or five large signs an- nouncing that our ompany would open was how were the men to reach these boxes, but to Ikey this was a mere de- tail. He got long ropes and tied one end around each rafter and then tied a lot of knots in the ropes. These ropes would take the place of stairways. We figured out that the rafters would seat about forty men and sold that number of tickets accordingly. ‘When the ticketholders for the boxes got a glimpse of the rafters and were informed that they had to use the rcpe stairway, there was a howl of indigna- tion, but we had their money and told them that if they did not like it they could write to the management later and their money would be refanded; but under these conditions they would not be allowed to witness the perform- ance that night. After a little grousing they accepted the situation with the promise that if the show was rotten they certainly would let us know about it during the performance. Everything went lovely and it was a howling success, until Alkali Ike ap- peared on the scene with his revolver loaded with blank cartridges. Behind the bar on a shelf was a long line of bottles. Alkali Ike was suppocsed to start on the left of this line and break six of the botties by firing at them with his revolver. Behind these bottles a piece of painted canvas was supposed to represent the back of the bar, at each shot from Alkali’s pistol a man behind the scenes would hit one of the bottles with his entrenching toc! handle and smash it, to give the im- pression that Alkali was a good shot. Alkali Ike started in and aimed at the right of the line of bottles instead of the left, and the poor boob behind the scenes started breaking the bottles on the left, and then the boxholders turned loose; but outside of this little fiasco the performance was a huge suc cess, and we decided to run it for a | week. ] New troops were constantly coming through, and for six performances we had the “S. R. 0.” sign suspended out side. ) CHAPTER XIX. On His Own. Of course Tommy cannot always be producing plays under fire but while in rest billets he has numerous other ways of amusing himself. He is a great gambler, but never plays for large stakes. Generally, in each com- ‘pany, you will find a regular Canfield. This man banks nearly all the games of chance and is an undisputed author- ity on the rules of gambling. When- ever there is an argument among the Tommies about some uncertain point as to whether Houghton is entitled to Watkins’ sixpence, the matter is taken to the recognized authority and his de- cision is final. : The two most popular games are “Crown and Anchor” and “House.” The paraphernalia wsed in “Crown and Anchor” consists of a piece of can- vas two feet by three feet. This is divided into six equal squares. In these squares are painted a club, diamond, heart, spade, crown, and an anchor, one device to a square. There are three dice used, each dice marked the same as the canvas. The banker sets up his gambling outfit in the corner ot a billet and starts bally-hooing until a crowd of Tommies gathers around; then the game starts. The Tommies place bets on the squares, the crown or anchor being played the most. The banker then rolls his three dice and collects or pays out as the case may be. If you play the crown and one shows up on the dice, you get even money, if two show up, you receive two to one, and if three, three to one. If the crown does not ap- up that evening at the King George the | pear and you have bet on it, you lose, and so on. The percentage for the banker is large if every square is played, but if the crowd is partial to, say two squares, he has to trust to luck. The banker generally wins. The game of “House” is very popular also. It takes two men to run it. This game consists of numerous squares of cardboard containing three rows of numbers, five numbers to a row. The numbers run from oae to ninety. Each card has a different combination. The French “estaminets” in the vil- lages are open from eleven in the morn- ing until one in the afternvon in ac- cordance with army orders. After dinner the Tommies congre- gate at these places to drink French beer at a penny a glass and play “House.” As soon as the estaminet is suffi- ciently crowded the proprietors of the “House” game get busy and, as they term it, “form a school.”. This consists of going around and selling cards at a franc each. If they have ten in the school, the backers of the game de- duct two francs for their trouble and the winner gets eight francs. Then the game starts. Each buyer: places his card before him on the ta- ble, first breaking up matches into fif- | teen pieces. | One of the backers of the game has [2 small cloth bag in which are ninety { cardboard squares, each with a num- | ber printed thereon, from one to nine- | ty. He raps on the table and cries i out: “Eyes down, my lucky lads.” All noise ceases and every one is at- | tention. The croupier places his hand in the bag and draws forth a numbered square and immediately calls out the number. The man whe owns the card with that particular number on it, covers the square with a match. The one who covers the fifteen numbers on i his card first shouts “House.” The | other backer immediately comes over to him and verifies the card by calling out the numbers thereon to the man with the bag. As each number is called he picks it out f the ones i picked from the bag and says, “Right.” If the count is right he shouts, “House correct, pay the lucky gentleman, and sell him a card for the next school.” The “lucky gentleman” generally buys one unless he has a miser trace in his veins. Then another collection is made, a school formed, and they carry on with the game. The caller-out has many nicknames for the numbers such as “Kelly's Eye” for one, “Leg’s Eleven” for eleven, “Clickety-click” for sixty-six, or “Top of the house” meaning ninety. The game is honest and quite en- joyable. Sometimes you have fourteen numbers on your card covered and you are waiting for .the fifteenth to be called. In an imploring voice you call out, “Come on, Watkins, chum, I'm sweating on ‘Kelly’s Eye.’ ” Watkins generally replies, “Well, keep out of a draft, you'll eatch cold.” Another game is “Pontoon,” played with cards; it is the same as our “Black Jack,” or “Twenty-one.” A card game called “Brag” is also popular. Using a casino deck, the dealer deals each player three cards. It is similar to our poker, except for the fact that you only use three cards and cannot draw. The deck is never shuffled until a man shows three of a kind or a “prile” as it is called. The value of the hands are, high card, a pair, a run, a flush or three of a kind or “prile.” The limit is generally a penny, so it is hard to win a fortune. The next in popularity is a card game called “Nap.” It is well named. Every time I played it I went to sleep. Whist and solo whist are played by the highbrows of the company. "en the gamblers tire of all other - try “Banker and Broker.” (Continued next week). - i. AA, Expert Tasters and Samplers. In these strenuous times of war and strong competition in all lines of business, nearly every industry has experts, who are classed as inspectors, tasters, samplers, etc. Generally they are men who have grown up in their particular line of business, and have become proficient in testing the qual- ities of the commodity they pass upon. The war has created an army of gov- ernment inspectors and experts, not to mention the thousands of munition inspectors. The war has boosted the price of cigars and a great many men may properly be envious of A. O. Dredner, who receives a regular salary for smoking cigars all day and every day. His job is to test and place a value on all imported tobacco, the customs duty on which was $1,800,000 last year at the port of New York. The dean of the coffee samplers is Rupert Story, who has been drinking coffee for a salary since 1855, and “still going strong.” In New York there are several tea samplers, the best known expert being Dan Bowne, who thinks nothing of tasting 100 cups of tea at one sitting. Then he takes a walk and starts on another 100 cups. To be sure that his taste is not impaired, Mr. Bowne never permits himself to indulge in any other beverage. The only known case of where one man became an expert taster of two beverages and was successful at both is Jack Fletcher—“Happy Jack,” as he was known—tea sampler for many years for a famous English tea con- cern. After many years he wearied of his one-man-tea-party and resign- ed, securing a job with a large distil- lery, where he was a whiskey samp- ler for several years. It will proba- bly surprise many persons to learn that whiskey samplers never drink the liquor, simply tasting it. Another well-known sampler who holds a position that many young women are justly envious of is H. Du- senbury, who is a perfumery sampler. In his case it is hardly necessary to say that he is a “smeller.” Colonel Jacob Mettler is one of the most famous oil samplers of the coun- try. Wherever there is oil, Jake Met- tler is known as the man who drinks crude oil and really likes it. He has become so expert in the taste of crude oil, it is said, that he can actually tell the State or oil field from which it was produced by simply tasting it. So far as known, Mr. Mettler has not yet found any one who was anxious to join him in a “Mettler cocktail,” and when Colonel Jake drinks crude, he drinks alone. Flyers Enjoy Cigarette in Air. “Up in the air a fellow feels just as much like smoking cigarettes as a man on earth,” remarked Lieut. R. A. Hersey, a member of the British fly- ing corps, who is in America on leave of absence, to the Washington Post. “Of course, it is not so easy to smoke while running an aeroplane as it is lounging in a chair, or even while run- ning an automobile, but nevertheless one has the desire, just the same, and there are many of us who indulge our desires. The wind very naturally in- terferes somewhat with smoking, just as it does on earth on a day when the wind is blowing, and some of the boys are always fearful that the spark may ignite something or other. But there are plenty of flyers who smoke in the air. This is perhaps not the case when they get higher than 3,500 feet in the air. I have never tried it above i that altitude. “The improvements in the aeroplane in the last two years have been almost startling. It is now just as easy to run a flying machine as it used to be to operate an automobile. I observed the aeroplane above Washington a few days ago. There was a brief pe- riod when, to the trained eye of the aviator, it appeared that the operator had some trouble with his engine. Two years ago he would probably have been frightened and might have had an accident, but today it is dif- ferent. The time is no doubt near at hand when aeroplanes will be indis- pensable in commercial activity.” ——For high class Job Work come to the “Watchman” Office. TEC HEROIC WOMEN OF FRANCE. My words are not powerful enough to do even scanty justice to the most heroic figure in the modern world, and of ages past—the women of France. Of the healthy men who are not engag- ed in the military service in France, practically all are engaged either in transportation or in the manufacture of munitions, leaving the agriculture absolutely to the women. Not only this, but they have stepped into the place of work animals; you can go in- to any section of France today and see women of magnificent, noble woman- hood hitched to the plough and culti- vating the soil. All of the agricul- ture rests upon their shoulders. The home, always an extremely efficient home, maintains a few old men, the wounded and the tubercular. Uncom- plaining, with high devotion, with an attitude that amounts almost to re- ligious exaltation, the women of France bear the burden. Now, cenditions being as they are, does it lie within the heart of the American people to preserve and hold to every convenience of our life at the expense of adding an additional burden to the womanhood of France? This is the exact question that is in- volved in our substitution of other cereals in place of wheat. The women of France must be ena- bled to hold up the morale of the French soldier until next spring. The morale of the house decides the mor- ale of the soldier in the fighting line. We can do this by giving to them the greatest possible freedom in their food supply, and of this, wheat is the chief factor.—Dr. Alonzo Taylor. Kitchen Talk. The New Maid—In my last place I always took things fairly easy. The Cook—Ye won’t do that here. They keep everything locked uv. ook w
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers