The Lampasas Daily Leader. (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 11, No. 260, Ed. 1 Friday, January 8, 1915 Page: 2 of 4
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“$5
THE LAMPASAS DAILY LEADER
NO COFFEE FOR SMOOT
Senator Reed Smoot, In conse-
quence of his Mormon training, uses
no i3tfmulants—no tobacco, alcohol,
coffee ov tea. No one who has ever
undertaken to go through life without
the use of coffee t>r tea has any idea
of the petty annoyances that such ab-
stinence entails. A man can quit
drinking malt, vinous, or spirituous
liquors, and his friends merely re-
mark: '‘On the wagon, eh?” and let
It go at that. They don’t ask why he
quit, and usually do not insist on his
drinking, regardless of what may be
the prevailing notion to the contrary.
Anybody knows that when a man
quits drinking he does so because he
does not wish to take all the natural
finish off his insides and die ahead of
schedule, or have a befuddled brain,
such as one can see on the charts in
any doctor’s office.
But with a man who does not
drink coffee or tea it is different.
Everybody desires to know why.
Wherever Smoot goes to dine people ask: "Do you find that coffee makes
you nervous?” “Don’t you drink it for breakfast even?” “Did you ever try
that Battle Creek substitute for coffee?” “Does it keep you awake?” And,
oh, a great many more.
Of late years, in order to avoid a scene, Smoot usually takes a cup of
coffee when it is offered to him, but does not drink it. But this avails him
little. Sooner or later his hostess inquires:
“Do you find your coffee too strong?” or, “Did you get cream and Bugar?”
Then the truth leaks out and the questions begin.
“HANSI,” ALSATIAN ARTIST
Not long ago a mild sensation was
created when John Waltz, an Alsatian
artist and writer, widely known under
the pseudonym of “Hansi,” was con-
demned by the German authorities to
a year’s imprisonment on account of
a book for children which he had
written and illustrated. In this book,
which was • called “Mon Village,” he
dealt in a humorous and satirical vein
with life in his native village, and
he was lavish both with pen and pen-
cil in criticism of the German masters
of Alsace-Lorraine and praise of the
French, its^fters' of yesterday.
......^ Siace'then “Hansi” has produced
another work, which, together with its
predecessor, has become so enormous-
ly popular in France since the out-
break of war against Germany that
copies are scarcely to be obtained.
This, “The History of Alsace for Lit-
tle Children, Told by Their Uncle
Hansi,” gives little Alsatians a survey
of the story of their native land that
is anti-German in every line. And while this book; and “Mon Village” are sell-
ing like hot cakes in France and doubtless being smuggled into Alsatian
homes by the hundred, there to be scanned with delight spiced with the
thought of what may befall if “the men from across the Rhine” get wind of
the treasured volumes, “Hansi” himself is fighting in the French army against
the nation which he has so consistently and humorously criticized in word
and picture.
• -
T\
MAJ. GEN. SAM HUGHES
One of the most picturesque fig-
ures in public life in Canada is Maj.
Gen. Sam Hughes, minister of militia.
His admirers call him independent
and efficient; his critics say he is a
marvel of indiscretion. He organized
Valcartier camp, where the Canadian
contingent was trained for the Euro-
pean war, and, bossing the job to
suit himself, succeeded in arousing a
lot of adverse criticism. But on his
return from England he wiped all
that out with this typical speech:
“I have it on the word of the
late Lord Roberts that Valcartier
camp displayed on the part of your
humble servant, a capacity for or-
ganization and driving power, unsur-
passed in military history.”
But Hughes was not long In find-
ing fresh trouble. General Lessard, a
French-Canadian officer, who did val-
iant service in South Africa, but who
is ineligible for active service now on
account of failing eyesight, as general
officer commanding the Toronto district, ordered a surprise mobilization of
troops for the purpose of testing the efficiency of his organization to meet
a possible invasion of German-Americans.
Hughes did not approve. But instead of reprimanding the G. O. C. pri-
vately, he blazed forth his criticism in a public address. Immediately the
fat was in the fire. Opposition papers said little. But government papers
forthwith demanded Hughes’ head.
MISSOURI BOY SHOWS KANSAS
Everyone in Kansas, and particu-
larly in the Seventh congressional
district, is talking about a former
Columbia and Mexico, Mo., boy, Jouett
Shouse. He moved to Kinsley, Ed-
wards county, from his former home
in Lexington, Ky., on November 18,
1911, and on November 3, 1914, was
elected to represent the largest con-
gressional district of the Union.
Shouse is the son of the late Rev.
John S. Shouse, one of the most wide-
ly known and beloved ministers of
the Christian church. During the pe-
riod from 1892 to 1898, Mr. Shouse
had charges in Columbia and Mexico.
His son Jouett was a student at the
University-.^ of Missouri. In 1911,
through Shouse’s efforts, the delegate®
to the state convention from the Sev-
enth went to Topeka with Instructions
for Champ Clark. The state conven-
tion instructed for Champ Clark. And
Kansas was one of the first states to
have a whirl at the Clark boom.
Next year Shouse was elected a state senator and his brilliant work In that
position resulted In his election to congress. Only twice before has that dis-
trict sent a pon-Republican to Washington.
DECEIT OF DEVLIN
By FRANK CONDON.
(Copyright.)
The marriage of Mr. Lawrence Dev-
lin to Miss Ernestine Childs occurred
promptly at eight o’clock in the eve-
ning at St. Bartholomew’s church, and
a small number of close friends attend-
ed the pleasing ceremony.
The usual remarks were made by
the clergyman, and the still more usu-
al ones by the spectators, after -which
the newly joined pair went happily
away.
At eight o’clock in the morning of
the same day, young Mr. Devlin was
what the newspapers would term “a
prominent young millionaire,” mean-
ing that he possessed large quantities
of money.
When Wall street and the banks
c’osed in midafternoon, Mr. Devlin
was worth, approximately, the cost
of the suit of clothes he wore. A
trust company had sunk, with all hands
on board, carrying with it the Devlin
fortune.
In the cab which carried them from
the church, Lawrence looked sadly and
thoughtfully at his beaming bride. She
knew nothing of the financial crash.
His friends knew nothing. To all out-
ward appearances he was still the
“prominent young millionaire.”
“Dearest,” Lawrence said, taking his
bride’s hand tenderly in his own, “we
are going to be very happy, are we
not?”
“Yes, Lawrence,” replied Ernestine,
pressing his hand.
“And to contribute to our supreme
happiness; to provide for us an un-
usual and unique experience, I have
thought out a pi?.n in which I am sure
you will cxoii'cur. We have been accus-
tomed' to the good things of life; to
luxuries in every form; to servants,
automobiles, theaters, and all the
thousand little extravagances that
make life easy. But we have never
had an opportunity to try the other
sort of life—the life exactly opposed
to our own—the life of the poor. What
would be a finer thing than to pre-
tend we were very poor; to live as
the poor live; to deny ourselves the
things to which we have been accus-
tomed ?”
“I am sure it would be delightful,”
his bride responded.
“We could take a small flat in the
poor part of New York,” Lawrence
continued, his enthusiasm growing.
“We could pretend we had scarcely
any money, buy plain but good food,
do our own housework, and study the
lives of those poverty-stricken peo-
ple.”
“Lawrence dear,” said Ernestine, “I
will gladly go any place you go. I
will do anything you do, and share
your life, no matter what happens.”
“Then it is agreed,” her husband
said.
With that decision as a broad foun-
dation, there arose far in the eastern
portion of the city a small flat. An
installment furniture company filled
it writh the usual “hundred-dollar set”
at ten dollars down and two a month.
Each morning the beautiful young
bride arose and prepared a frugal
meal. With her own fair hands she
washed the dishes, dusted the Imita-
tion oak furniture, and scrubbed the
floor. Lawrence sometimes helped
her. Coming home, he carried wood
up the four flights and deposited it by
the stove.
At nine o’clock Lawrence would go
out and buy ten cents’ worth of cheese
and a box of crackers and a pint of
beer. They would then feast together,
laughing over the absurdity of the
whole thing. Lawrence had said:
“My dear girl, much as I dislike to
be away from your side for even a
brief moment, there are certain
weighty financial matters requiring
my presence downtown. Tomorrow 1
shall have to be downtown very early.
Shall we have breakfast at seven?”
“My love,” Ernestine answered
fondly, “I will prepare your breakfast
at six if you wish it.”
So Mr. Devlin left the flat at half
past seven in the morning and spent
the day looking for a job. He clipped
a column from the morning newspa-
per and hunted tirelessly. In the eve-
ning he appeared for supper.
“You look drawn and weary, dear
one,” said his bride.
“We had it hard today,” said Law-
rence. “The market was panicky.
They’ve been trying to shoot holes in
my railroad, but I refused to let ’em.
What have we to eat?”
“Tripe, Lawrence, dear,” replied
Ernestine.
Promptly every morning as the
whistles blew, young Mr. Devlin hur-
ried away from the east side flat to
guard his mythical millions. Prompt-
ly at six each night he returned. Er-
nestine was trying to run the fiat on
seven dollars a week, and was delight-
ed with her success.
The scene changes.
At noon Ernestine hung the dish-.
rag over the clothes line in the kitch-
en, yawned a weary sigh, and let down
her hair. A vapid afternoon stared
her in the face.
‘1 think,” she said to herself mu-
singly, “that I shall go to a matinee
today.”
She dressed leisurely in garments
long unused, selected a popular musi-
cal comedy, and went gayly forth.
At five o’clock in the afternoon
Broadway was' jammed with traffic.
Hundreds of motor cars drew up be-
fore the theaters and waited for their
owners.
At the entrance to the Knickerdash-
er a liveried attendant shouted the
numbers.
Mrs. Ernestine Devlin came forth
with the handsomely dressed throng
of women and children and held up
her hand. The attendant gave ear to
her request and shouted a mysterious
signal, whereupon a pink taxicab dart-
ed through the seemingly impenetra-
ble welter of traffic and halted at the
curb before Mrs. Devlin.
She glanced at the man on the
chauffeur’s seat and stifled a gasp.
It was her husband!
Lawrence looked back at her
stonily.
“Where to, madam?” he asked.
He was dressed in a leather coat,
with leather leggings, and a chauf-
feur’s cap adorned with a license tag.
Ernestine stumbled Into the cab.
“Home!” she said huskily.
When the cab had cleared the thick
of the traffic, Ernestine leaned for-
ward.
"Lawrence Devlin,” she asked,
"what Is the meaning of this joke?”
“Sweetheart,” replied her husband,
skillfully avoiding a two-foot child car-
rying a rag doll, "this is no joke. This
Is taxicab Number 20709 N. Y., owned
and operated by the Pink Taxicab
company, and I am the official chauf-
leur. I belong to the chauffeurs’ union.
For driving this car ten hours a day
I receive twenty-five dollars a week
and all the tips I can collect. You
have found me out. I must make a
clean breast of it.”
“Do you mean,” Ernestine asked in
a trembling voice, “that you have lost
your money?”
“Precisely,” Lawrence answered
without turning in his seat. “I
haven’t a cent in the world except
what I earn this way.”
“You brave boy,” his wife whis-
pered tearfully.
On the. drive home Ernestine be-
came thoughtful. Lawrence proceed-
ed with speed and skill, and In the
course of time drew up before the
doorway of his modest flat.
He flicked open the door and turned
down the red flag on the meter.
“It will be four dollars and forty
cents, dear one,” he said jocosely.
“It will be nothing of the kind,”
Ernestine retorted, stepping daintily
to the curb.
“You refuse to pay me?” Lawrence
inquired.
“I certainly do,” answered his wife.
“Then I shall have to take you to
the nearest police stationTx I have
done that several times to trouble-
some fares.”
“When I ride in a taxicab I never
pay money,” Ernestine answered.
“You will get me into trouble with
the Pink Taxicab company, Ernestine
dear. I must demand payment,” said
Lawrence. —
“It has been my custom to taxicab
with the Pink company, Lawrence,
because of the fact that I ride on a
pass.”
“A pass?” Lawrence inquired.
“Because,” Ernestine continued,
patting her husband’s arm, “as the
president and owner of the Pink Taxi-
cab company, I would be foolish to
pay. We move back to civilization
tonight!” she said, going up the steps
to the little flat.
Why Indians Are Red.
A German doctor has evolved a
queer theory about the coloring of the
human race—that the tint of the skin
is determined by the food eaten.
Originally, he declares, the human
species was black, because our primi-
tive forefathers subsisted on fruits and
roots containing manganese. The
American redskins owe their color to
the consumption of raw flesh. The
Mongols are yellow because of their
descent from a tribe which consumed
great quantities of herbs rich in
chloride, and the Caucasians have to
thank the salt, for which they have so
great a liking, for their dainty pink and
white or delicate brunette complex-
ions.—Philadelphia Record.
Interested at Once.
“My dear, you ought to pass up friv-
olous things and take an interest in
deep subjects. Take history, for in-
stance. Gessler, the tyrant, put up
a hat for the Swiss to salute.” The
lady was a trifle Interested. “How was
it trimmed?” she inquired.—Louisville
Courier-Journal.
Land Lost Through Erosion.
The amount of erosion going on in
this world is something astonishing.
The Mississippi has stolen by erosion
from the different states through
which it runs enough territory to make
of Itself a small state.
SAVED TRAIN BY SAFETY PIN
New-Fangled Gown Caused Something
of a Confusion at New York
Dance.
One of those new-fangled trains be-
came unswitched at a recent dance at
the Claridge, according to the New York
Times, and when the owner discovered
her loss she and the man at the hotel
desk had a lot of trouble.. It seems
that the new train is made so that it
can be worn or riot worn, just as the
owner of the freak to which it belongs
fancies. When her friends expressed
their admiration oij Mrs. Camille Roe’s
new frock, all went merry as a mar-
riage bell until one of these friends
became so enthusiastic over the way
Mrs. Roe managed her new train that
the latter drew out of the dance to
explain.
“You see, it. is like this,” she began,,
catching at her skirt. She caught in.
vain. There was nothing but the skirt.
The train had left the station. Afte~
a hurried search about the room, Mrs.
Roe went out to see if the train had'
arrived at the desk.
“I’ve lost my train,” she announced,
somewhat breathlessly.
The clerk immediately got out hi
train guide. He thought she was
commuter who had overstayed he
time limit in town, and that she-
wished to catch a later train.
“New Haven or New York Central,
ma’am?” he inquired, sympathetically,,
as he hurriedly turned over the leaves..
The lady explained. The clerk rum-
maged among the things under the
counter. “Nothing like a train here,
ma’am,” he reported. “The only thing
we have is a girdle that the assistant
manager picked up and turned in here
a little while ago.” He held it up. It
was the train Mrs. Roe had missed.
Pretty soon it was flying through a.
one-step, but its ordinary couplings
had been re-enforced with small safety-
pins.
RISKS OF RED CROSS WORK
Dolors Who Operate on the Field
Under Fire Require Nerves
That Are Steady.
In the fighting area Red Cross work-]
ers are running greater risks than theyj
have ever done in past campaigns.,
Those who succor the wounded do not
now wait until the en<i of a battle be-
fore they commence their humane
work, neither do they remain in safety-
some distance at the rear. The num-
bers of the wounded in modern battle
are too great for that, and assistance
must be given to them on the battle-
field itself, with shot and shell whis-
tling around. Surgeons now make
their way along the trenches under
heavy fire, carrying small surgical
cases which contain a number of ab-
solutely necessary medicines. These
include pain-killing drugs, such as
morphine, antiseptics and syringes. On
the wounded soldier himself a first-aid
outfit can be found, as every military
man carries in his knapsack a little
packet of antiseptic gauze and a roll
of bandages. The surgeon makes his
patient as comfortable as possible and,
if he can, drags him to a point where
the bursting shells are not likely tp
injure him. Then, on his hands and
knees; the plucky worker makes his
way along the rows of dead and
wounded, taking as many, if not more,
risks than the “Tommies” themselves.
Of course, working under such try-
ing conditions the surgeon cannot do,
all he would wish for the wounded.
By means of injections from his hypo-
dermic syringe he temporarily allevi-
ates their, pain, and in serious cases
stops bleeding by tightly knotted
bandages placed round the injured
limb, while broken hones he puts in
a “splint,” provided, in many instances,
by the stricken soldier’s bayonet.
An Institute of Agriculture.
More scientific farming resulting in
lower food prices in cities is the
avowed object of the free institute of
agriculture which has been in prog-
ress in New York city throughout 20
weeks of the present year. The in-
stitution depends upon co-operation
between the national department of
agriculture, Columbia university and
the New York state department of
agriculture. It is intended that per-
sons who intend to go into farming
shall be better prepared for this pur-
pose, while those who are not fitted
for that occupation may be deterred
from attempting it. It is also the
hope that abandoned farms near th&
city may be subjected to proper de-;
velopment.
Saving the Babies.
A recent mayor of Huddersfield of-
fered one pound to every mother who
brought to him a year-old baby of a
ceriain weight, and the result was;
that a great many babies which used!
to die did not die. The babies at thei
end of the year not only came up
alive but they came up to weight. In]
commenting on this fact, Bernard]
Shaw said Mr. Broadbent knew that at
pound extra in a baby at a certain ago
was an enormous municipal profit.—*
The Living Church.
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Vernor, J. E. The Lampasas Daily Leader. (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 11, No. 260, Ed. 1 Friday, January 8, 1915, newspaper, January 8, 1915; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth905851/m1/2/: accessed April 24, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Lampasas Public Library.