IL PATRIOTA
(THE PATRIOT)
Published Weekly By
Patriot
Office: No. 15 Carpenter Ave.
Marshall Building
INDIANA, PENNA.
F. BIÀMONTE Publisher
Entered as second-clas matter Sept
ember 26, 1914, at the postoffice at
Indiana, Pennsylvania, under the Act
of March 3, 1879.
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ACCURATEZZA,
SODDISFAZIONE,
MODICITÀ'. Manifold Uses for Cotton.
In calling attention to the manifold
uses for cotton, cotton seed and cotton
seed oil, the Boston Herald mentions
the following products: Photographic
films, automobile windows, buttons,
"ivory," artificial silk, combs, knife
handles, trunks, book bindings, shoes,
furniture, headwear, handbags, lard,
soap, butterine, paints, rubber, guncot
ton and smokeless powder used in ex
plosives.
Flowers.
Flowers are perhaps the most effec
tive of the many little "finishing
touches" necessary to am attractive
home. There are thousands of persons
with beautiful houses, costly furnish
ings, perhaps, artistically and skillfully
arranged by the hands of a clever dec
orator, but it takes the little finishing
touches, the seemingly unimportant
tiny things, done by the woman who
loves and exists for her home and ex
presses her soul In her surroundings
to make the house lovable. —Exchange.
Jupiter's Belts.
It has been suggested by Lau that
the reason Jupiter has belts instead < "
zones of spots is to be found in its
rapid rotation. The material forced
upward from the lower strata of the
planet, bringing with it a smaller lin
ear velocity than that of the surface,
streams eastward, assuming the look
of elongated streaks. If the centers of
eruption are sufficiently numerous,
belts are formed; and it is suggested
that, were the sun's rotation much
more rapid than it is, the solar sur
face at spot maximum would also pre
sent dark streaks.
In Danger.
A few days ago a five-year-old boy
came with his mother to visit the let
ter's cousin. The first night, upon re
tiring, they were given a room wiiich
contained a folding bed. which was
something new to the young man. He
watched the process of opening, then
got into bed, lay there, and thought for
a few minutes, then looked up and
said: "Mother, we will have to look
out, for this bed has a self-starter,
and Is liable to go up on us."
The Clean
i Plate
By Barton Payne Arlington
! (Copyright, 1918, Wettern Newspaper Union. >
A motherly, good-natured and home
loving woman, Mrs. Alvlra Warden
was a sort of ruling goddess with the
four gentlemanly boarders she had re
tained, satisfied and content, year after
year.
They were all bachelors. Baird Dens
low was the youngest and, because of
his quiet, thoughtful ways and regular
habits, Mrs. Warden liked him the
best. He was a clerk in a brokerage
house, was saving, spent his leisure
time in reading, and never forgot some
little gift as a mark of appreciation
and respect whenever a holiday came
around.
"I am thinking of making something
of a change In my domestic arrange
ments," she said to him one evening,
while Mr. Nesbit, the star boarder,
was singing to the accompaniment of
Mr. Dale's violin and Mr. Watson's
saxophone. They were a rather ac
complished quartette when Denslow
added his flute to the outfit.
"I hope you meditate nothing that
will disturb the pleasant current of
all our lives," submitted Denslow in
his quiet, unobtrusive way.
"On the contrary," readily replied
his landlady, "it will be an addition to
our little group which, I believe, will
be acceptable to all. My daughter, Ol
ive, is coming to stay with me perma
nently."
Denslow had heard Mrs. Warden re
fer to tills daughter more than once.
Olive Morse was a young widow who
had' for several years been working in
a good position in a distant city.
"Yes," resumed Mrs. Warden, "Olive
is tired of office work, and I am get
ting old. She feels it a duty to be near
me and lighten my burdens."
There were some glum faces when
the announcement of a possible change
in the excellent fare and comfortable
environment dominated by Mrs. Wr -
den was apprehended and discussed.
There were smiling faces and perfect
satisfaction, however, before the fair
Olive had been installed a week. All
that Mrs. Warden knew of superb
cookery she seemed to have imparted
to her daughter, for the table layout
never fell below average, and general
ly exceeded it. Besides that, there
never was a more charming hostess
than the young widow.
Mr. Dale, who had gone out to his
club regularly, abandoned that rou
tine. Watson bought a new saxa
plione. Previously an "old clothes"
man, Nesbit appeared in a new suit.
Denslow, who had been an pmniverous
reader evenings, welcomed the contin
uous musicales with ardor and regu
larity.
With the declaration of war Olive
was alive to all new issues of the day.
In expressing her sentiments as to the
features of saving and helping she met
with the heartiest co-operation of her
four admirers. When she joined a
group of ladies engaged in knitting
socks and sweaters "for the b»® s over
there" the donations of the boarders
were more than liberal. When war
flour and restricted sugar supplies be
came the order of the day there were
no complaints. Dale, who had a sweet
tooth, ostentatiously took but one
lump per meal, and Watson declared
that the substitute biscuits beat the
original variety all hollow! Nesbit
gan to dote on cornmeal and barley.
Denslow accepted conditions not only
cheerfully, but as a consistent matter
of principle.
"Mother!" said Olive one day, "you
don't suppose Mr. Denslow is getting
dissatisfied with our fare?"
"Why, what makes you think that?"
inquired Mrs. Warden wonderingly.
"Because he restricts himself to one
helping. The others leave a wasteful
supply very often, but Mr. Denslow al
ways a clean plate."
"Well, Olive," spoke her mother, "I
overheard him tell the others a few
days ago that he considered it a mat
ter of duty for every man at home to
sacrifice what he could for the man
abroad. You seem considerably inter
ested in Mr. Denslow. Let me see —he
will be the fourth one, won't he?"
Olive blushed and resumed her work
like one seeking a diversion. One af
ter another, Dale, Watsrn and Nesbit
had told Olive tkat she was the wife
they had been waiting for all their
lives.
Denslow had been on the point of
following their example, Olive hod dis
cerned, but his innate modesty had
checked him. One afternoon, with
mutual surprise, they came face to
face at a bank, each buying a Liberty
bond.
"I have saved enough to make the
purchase," Olive told him, "by cutting
close in buying and cooking."
"I have found that a little figuring
as to the lunch and cigar supplies j
helps a fellow sift out quite an amount
in the course of a month," explained
Denslow.
They grew cheery and confidential
as they pursued their way homewards.
Somehow, each had discovered some
thing harmonious as to opinions and
tastes. Somehow the barrier of shy
ness on the part of Denslow suc
cumbed. His clear, open expression of
face, showing his real worthiness of
soul, appealed to the lonely widow. He
detected a token of approbation in her
hright eyes.
"Would you consent to pool our
patriotic investments after this?" he
inquired, and, as clearly and frankly,
she placed her hand within his own
and lifted her eyes to his unfaltering
-1 r
:j CARRIER CORA ||
By VINCENT G. PERRY.
l9l£, by th« ilcClure Newspa
per Syndicate.)
For a whole week 110 morning paper
hatj been delivered to Edward Aiken,
An-J he had about reached the end
of Me endurance. "I'll give that boy
a food calling down," he told himself
as he set the alarm clock so that he
would be able to do so.
i'he first ring of the alarm was
awakening him. By the time he was
dressed the paper hov was due. The
morning was blustery, so he stationed
himself In a front room, where he
would be sure to hear him passing.
Aftsr a short wait he heard someone
coming op his walk. The boy was not
going to forget him that morning, ap
parently. but it was to give him
a talking to about pasf misdemeanors,
he thought.
"Here, you," he yelled as he opened
the door. "I should give you a cuff
on the ear for not bringing that paper
last week. Is that the way you treat
old customers."
"I beg your pardon, you have made
a mistake." It was a voman's voice.
Edward gasped.
"I thought you were my paper car
rier," he hastened to apologize.
"So I am." She had stepped Into
a spot where the light shone on her
features and he could see that she was
smiling at his mistake. She was pretty
and the paper nag about her shoulders
gave her an air that made her very
attractive.
"This is my first morning "on the
route," .she explained. "The local
newspapers have had trouble getting
boys to carry their papers. There are
so many positions left vacant by men
who have gone to the war that it is
easy for them to get other work. Get
ting up in the morning, especially
windy mornings like this one, doesn't
seem to appeal to the boys."
"I shouldn't think it would appeal
to young ladies, either," he said, as
he took a closer look at her. "There
should be lots of work that you could
find."
"I am doing my bit this way," she
answered with a touch of pride in her
voice. "All the girls in our branch
of the Red Cross are carrying paper
routes until the spring."
As she left to finish her route he
looked after her with admiration.
There was a plucky girl if ever there
was one. He had seen her face some
where before. Where? He remem
bered it In a flash. She was Cora
Braifhwaite, one of the most popular
socifeiy girls in the city.
Although her duties as a paper car
rier necessitated early rising, Cora did
not neglect her other patriotic work.
It was not many days before she was
formally introduced to Edward Aiken
and then the story of their first meet
ing had to come out.
"Mr. Aiken seems very anxious to
be in your company, Cora," one of her
friends said one day after the story
had been retold. "It isn't often a man
falls in love with his paper carrier,
my dear."
"Don't be ridiculous," Cora laughed,
but when she was alone she thought
over her friend's words. Edward had
almost forced himself upon her and
she had not quite made up her mind ,
what to do about it. He was hand
some and genial.
She was always nice to him, but
that didn't satisfy Edward. When all
his advances were met with rebuffs
he decided that the only way he could
talk to her was by being on hand in
the morning when she arrived with
the paper. The alarm clock worked
overtime. Even a word or two from
her cheered him for the rest of the
day. If she favored him with more !
than that he would muse so long over
It the paper would go unread. But all
good things come to an end sooner or
later. When warmer weather came,
paper boys were not difficult to se
cure and the girls were relieved of
their duty—rather a pleasant relief,
too.
Edward was walking home one night
thinking of Cora. His path led him
by a public building that was under
guard. It had been a sunny day, but
the night had turned quite chilly. He
was thankful he had worn a warm
coat. As the man on guard passed
him he noticed that he had no gloves.
He slipped off his. own gloves and
waited for the soldier to return to
his beat.
"Here are my gloves, old fellow," he
said, as he handed them over. "I've*
got lots at home. Your hands must be
freezing."
The man muttered a word of thanks
as he passed on.
"How kind of you!" Cora had seen
his act of kindness and her tone
showed her appreciation of it.
"Oh," he laughed, as he stepped up
beside her, "that is nothing. I know
what it is to be on guard myself."
"Do you?" She was quite surprised.
"Did you attend military college?"
"No," he answered. "I served for
two years in France with the First
Canadians."
"Why didn't you tell me that be
fore?" There was something more
than surprise in her voice.
"Would that have made any differ
ence?" lit asked.
"I should say it would. I have been
mean to you because I had dubbed you
as a slacker. I am so proud of you,
now."
Before he left her he had accepted
an invitation to call the next night.
"I'd go through twice what I have to ,
have a girl like that proud of me," he
said to himself, as he was walking
home.
URGED HIGH TITLE
Many Would Have Had Washing
ton Addressed as Monarch.
j s . - v-
Interesting Just Now to Recall How
Fond of High-Sounding Appella
tions Were the Founders Of
This Great Republic.
In view of the widespread approval
of the Chamberlain bill, making it pos
sible for our soldiers to wear medals
conferred by the French, it is interest
ing to be reminded that, although the
Constitution forbade all those in the
service of the United States to accept
titles or decorations from foreign
rulers, a strong party in our first sen
ate wished to bestow almost royal titlt
upon government officials.
A serious debate aj-ose over the
manner in which Washington should
be addressed, and on April 23, 1759.
a committee was appointed to consider
the matter. Among the titles urged
were "His Highness, the President of
the United States of America and Pro
tector of the Rights of the Same," "His
Elective Highness," etc., and a cano-.
pied throne was to be erected for his
use in the senate. Mmbers of that body
were to be "Your Highness of the
Senate," the sergeant at arms was to
be rechristened the "Usher of the
Black Rod," and representatives "Your
Highness of the Lower House."
John Adams, we are told in the Jour
nal of William Maclay, led the so
called "Court party," which wished to
borrow the forms of the British mon
archy for our infant government. His
most zealous supporter was Richard
Henry Lee of Virginia. Maclay and
Robert Morris were the first senators
from Pennsylvania.
The matter rested until after the
formalities of Washington's inaugura
tion were settled. Under the first plan
the clergy could attend only as spec
tators, but this was finally overruled
on a strong protest from the ministers
of New York. An interesting sidelight
on the times is given by John Randolph
of Virginia, who as a boy witnessed
the inauguration of Adams as vice
president.
The controversy over the titles came
to a head on May 1 when the clerk of
the senate began to read the minutes.
"His Most Gracious Speech," he said,
referring to Washington's inaugural
address. Blank surprise showed in the
eyes of many of the senators. Jeffer
son, the great champion of democracy,
was absent in Europe. Maclay rose to
his feet.
"The words prefixed to the presi
dent's speech are the same that are
usually placed before the speech of his
Britannic majesty," he said. "I know
they will give offense. I consider them
improper. I therefore, move that they
be struck out and that it stand sim
ply address or speech, as may be ad
judged most suitable."
The report of the committee on titles
was rejected May 14 by a vote of 10 to
8, but in a half-hearted way. The rec
ord showed that "for the present" the
subject would be dropped, but the
wording clearly indicated that titles
were favored.
'
Hat.
I am reminded that the silk hat worn
by Sir James M. Barrie at the rehears
als of his early plays, which I men
tioned the other day, was in all prob
ability the one which was acquired in
still earlier years with the intention of
impressing Frederick Greenwood. The
story of this tall hat was related at
the memorable dinner given to Green
wood in 1905, with John Morley, then
quite untitled, in the chair. "I bought
my first silk hat, to impress him, the
day I came to London," said the dis
tinguished pilgrim from Thrums. "I
never wore it except when I made pe
riodic advances on the St. James's Ga
zette. I liked to think that it had its
effect upon him." The hat would nat
urally be treasured on grounds other
than those which would suggest them
selves to the ordinary thrifty Scot —it
had opened out to him a great liter
ary career, and it might be expected to
have its natural beneficent influence on
the plays.—Westminster (Eng.) Ga
zette.
Something to Worry About.
As if we haven't already enough to
keep our minds busy, with war and the
high cost of living! And our friends,
the learned astronomers, who study
the heavens just as carefully as the
average fellow does the Innermost re
cesses of his pocketbook day before
pay, are intent upon adding to our load
of worry burdens. They—some of
them —believe the sun is going to ex
plode. One of them, writing in Popu
lar Astronomy, points to the fact that
our sun is of advanced age, and pre
dicts its finish as the leading figure
in any solar system. He finds that our
sun has contracted 92,000,000 miles
from each side, thus giving its hot cen
ter 156,000,000 miles less of room. So
you see the sun's center is rather
crowded for space. Something like
the three-room-apartment couple when
visiting relatives begin their summer
vacation drives. —Syracuse Journal.
Diplomacy.
Harold —And why must we always
be kind to the poor?
Doris —Because there may be a sud
den change, and we don't know how
soon they may become rich.
Righteous Indignation.
Mrs. Jones —I wonder what makes
baby so wakeful.
Jones (savagely)— Why, it's heredi
tary, of course. That's what comes of
your sitting up nights waiting for me.
I THE TRUTH 1
! |
By JACK LAWTON.
I' * » 8
(Copyright, MlB. Western Newspaper Union.>
Celia had always inslstkl that she
would not marry a widower. "I would
be sure that he had loved the first
wife best," she said. And If she had
known, when visiting Aunt Elizabeth,
I that the best looking young man in
her aunt's social club belonged to that
unfortunate though Interesting class,
Cella would at once have discouraged
his attentions. But Aunt Elizabeth
forgot to mention the fact of widow
hood, and when Cella found out. It was
too late to turn back, love had claim
ed her for its own.
During the first Idyllic months after
marriage, Cella settled down In con
tentment ; Tom Brantford's affection
was too evident and true to cause dis
satisfaction in even a doubtful heart.
Cheerfully his second wife took up
the homemaking task, where it had
been interrupted.
City life was very different from the
quiet routine of her home village, the
women seemed differently gowned, too.
Celia wondered wistfully if her white
ruffled frock might not be too simple,
or if pink and blue cambric was really
suitable as morning wear for Tom
Brantford's wife. It was Aunt Eliza
beth who first raised the question.
"My dear," she said during one of
her calls, "why don't you patronize
Lucy's dressmaker? Lucy was always
dressed stunningly, I don't wonder that
Tom was proud to take her about.
One met them everywhere. Tom's po
sition should warrant more than coun
try muslins and cambrics."
Cella's lovely face flushed, and when
Aunt Elizabeth had gone, she went and
stood before the small framed photo
graph of the home's former mistress
and intently studied its gracefully
robed outlines. "Yes, Lucy had been
stunningly gowned, and her hair" —im-
patiently the new wife touched her
own rebellious wavy locks —"her hair
was Irreproachable in its arrange
ment. What was it that Aunt had
said. "Tom was so proud to take her
about, one met them everywhere."
With a sense of awakening. Celia
looked back over the past blissful
months, why, Tom had not taken her
anywhere. Every evening they had sat
together in what had seemed sweet
understanding silence.
"Lucy and Tom," the connection of
names brought a new and poignant
pain. Lucy had been an accomplish
ed college graduate, Lucy's acquaint
ances, Cella realized in her retrospec
tion, had not called upon her. Could
It be possible that Tom was ashamed
of his new wife's Insignificance?
Whiningly the curly dog crept' into
her lap. Cella's eyes filled with sud
den tears.
"Perhaps he Is good to you," she
murmured, "because you were
Lucy's."
Impulsively she arose to her feet.
She would go back to the country
home; she would not take second
place In Tom's heart. Then she paused
half-way up the stair, a new purpose
had come to her. No, she would stay,
stay to triumph, even over Lucy. The
plan was unbearable, but she could not
leave her husband. He must fc«e made
proud of her. Several times that eve
ning Tom Brantford glanced perplex
edly over his cigar at his strangely
constrained wife. Each day his per
plexity grew, as in dignified silence
Celia went about her duties. But at
length she approached him almost gay
lv. He was busy at the time with a
garden trellis, and as Tom looked from
his wife's animated face to her fault
lessly modish gown, he whistled.
"I hope you like my dress," Celia
said, .suddenly distant. "I have been
making alterations in my wardrobe."
"Very nice," Tom muttered absently.
It was difficult to put pride aside, to
go more than half way in meeting
Lucy's friends. But Celia not only ac
complished this feat, but managed so
well that her place was often vacant
at the dinner table, while Tom waited
her return from a "tea."
But with all Celia's successes", she
was not happy. For she was failing
in that greatest triumph, her husband's
love.
Into Tom's eyes a shadow grew, be
tween his brows a frown deepened.
Her most elaborate toilets broueht
forth no expression of admiration, and
among her many social invitations,
there was none from him. Surely he
could not now feel humiliated by her
comparison to his former wife. Then
one day he came to her.
"I fim going away on business," he
announced, and without further word
departed.
After the closing of the front door i
Celia went to her room, hopelessly she
tossed aside her beautiful gown, and
slipped into the old simple muslin.
Down to the garden she went, there
to throw herself beneath a spreading
tree, while the ruffles of the muslin
dress were wet with bitter tear. 5 /.
"Celia. dearest." unexpectedly ex
claimed her husband's vibrant voice,
"I must know the reason of all this —"
and she told him.
Then close with his cheek against
hers, he made confession.
"I thought that Lucy and I would
start with love," he said, "but it '
proved a mistake. We were too young
to know. Our tastes were totally dif
ferent ; we tried to make the best of
it. Lucy was a gay little butterfly, !
happy only in social success, while I—" j
Tom's voice broke, "I only wanted a
home. Celia." he said. "A home that
«bould be my world, and a wife who
would be just like you. Our life has
been heaven, dear."
"We will keep it so," whispered Celia. i
Earning
a Living
By VICTOR REDCUFFE
(Copyright. 1918, Weatern N>w»p«per Union.)
Elston Gordon came from "the best
family in the state" tyid it spoiled him;
not the eminence and respectability of
the Gordons, but the pride of tradition,
the ready toleration, and Indulgence of
those wire revered the memory of Gen
eral Alexander Gordon, a real hero of
the Civil war. Then, too, his mother
was of the Ballentynes, pioneers, and
the granddaughter of a governor.
Tl»e family wealth, once extensive,
had been scattered. In a pinching,
wretched way Mrs. Gordon remained
in the grand old family mansion, and
even with her faded silks and laces
and obsolete jewelry, reigned queen of
an exclusive social set. She toiled and
managed behind the scenes until her
daughters were well married off. Then
the tfred old soul cave out and Elston
was left an orphan. He lived around
with this and that relative, gained a
good education, came back from col
lege elegant and handsome as ever,
and one of his maneuvering relatives
Introduced him to Viola Deane, aod he
married her.
That Elston sincerely loved the lady
of his choice there was no doubt*
What was engrafted in his nature,
however, It was difficult to eradicate.
Elston had never done a stroke of
work In lifc life. Viola, the only child
of a rich father, was proud of her ac
complished husband, who was ideal at
tennis, dancing and acting the gener
ous host.
As a natural and unavoidable mat
ter of course, Elston went to see Mr.
Deane. He made quick work of an
nouncing his situation. The way the
old man burst out upon him was the
first real startler and waking up El*
ston had ever encountered. The old
man was merciless. When Elston re
tired from the encounter with the in
furiated tyro he was angry, humiliat
ed and uneasy. Mr. Deane had in
formed him that he was a worthless
spendthrift, hud announced definitely
that not one dollar further would be
provided to keeping him in wasteful
idleness.
"In other words," John Deane had
stated, "you are a pauper. It's work
or starve, for, until I see you headed
on the road of industry and economy,
not a cent."
Viola wept when Elston swept into
her presence mightily affronted and ln«
dlgnant. She had no idea that their
monetary affairs were so bad.
"Don't antagonize • papa, Elston,
dear," she pleaded. "Let us try and
meet his wishes. 11c Is a wise and
prudent man. We must get dowu to
common sense and retrench."
"Oh !" shouted Elston, "you're getting
tired of me, eh? And you side with
your father," and. like the impetuous,
Irrational being that he was, he lluug
out of the house, for a week Indulged
In a riotous round of dissipation, and
returned home to find the place vacant.
"Yes, great things have happened
while you have been playing fool," a
close friend told him. "You've run a
mad enreer of extravagance, Gordon,
and you've got te pull up. Old Deane
has pounced down on all your wife had
to pay him back 'for the money ad
vanced. You deserted her at a criti
cal moment, and everybody blames you.
She had no one to go to except to her
father, and If you'll take my advice
you will see her, patch up this ridic
ulous quarrel, and go to work and
show that you are a real man."
"What!" cried Elston, "knuckle down
to that old tyrant—never! He's wal
lowing in wealth, and he's humiliat
ing me because he dislikes me. Say,
I'll go him one better! I'll stir up some
of Ills ideas! I call his action snap
judgment. He might have given us a
little breathing spell mightn't he? Oh!
I'll bring him down from his high and
mighty idens, see if I don't! Then I'll
sue him frr alienation of the affections
of my wife."
"You'll lose out, If you do," declared
Elston's adviser.
The town was agog two days later.
Arrayed In blue jeans, driving an old
nag attached to a rainshackly peddler's
wagon, fastidious, exclusive Elston
Gordon drove down the street calling
out: "Cabbage! Turnips! Potatoes!"
He fancied that John Deane would
soon come to terms rather than see
his high-toned son-in-law descend to
the level of a common huckster.
But no—the wise old schemer had
his plan as well as Elston, and Viola,
though dismally, was helping him car
ry It out. One day after heroically
livering a peck of potatoes to a pur
chaser, Elston came out to the street
to find Viola dealing out a bunch of
lettuce. He stared at her in wonder,
for she wore a work apron and a hid
eous sunbonnet.
"See here!" he stammered, but she
rushed at him and wound her arms
about his neck.
"Oh, you dear grand man!" she
cried, "showing the world that you are
no laggard when a crisis comes. I'm *
going to help you peddle and Isn't it
glorious fun! And we'll get a cheap lit
tle place to live In. And it will just
be famous!"
"Why—why—l'll get a better job
than this," stammered Elston. "And
you're a trump, to think of helping
me!" And next day he sought a po
sition more in accordance with his
tastes.
And within six months John Deane
saw the light, started him In a substan
tial business, and, having learned his
lesson, Elston Gordon became a model
of energy and Industry.