The Lampasas Daily Leader. (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 13, No. 259, Ed. 1 Thursday, January 4, 1917 Page: 2 of 4
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THE LAMPASAS DAILY LEADER
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Tipping With Wampum Doesn’t Go in New York
VrEW YORK—Just nt the time when the stock of gold in the United States
1M had reached $2,636,000,000, which is a large pile, there arrived in New
York two belts of wampum, coinage of 16S2, with which the Indians down
around Eighth and Chestnut streets,
«, Philadelphia, guaranteed their treaties
4/ r^\ 0W&I? with William Penn, years and years
/ before the town became famous for its
^ *®*“'/®* scrapple.
The belts now belong to the Mu-
seum of the American Indian.
The arrival of these belts has
started some talk about what would
happen if we were on a wampum fi-
nancial basis agaiii and the bank roll
was in shells. The price of hard
clams, out of which much of our 18-
karat wampum used to be coined, would jump from 40 cents a hundred to a
figure that would make a clam worth as much as a pearl.
On the old basis, with 40 fathoms of wampum on deposit to his credit, a
man would be on easy street now. A woman going shopping could wind a
few hundred feet of cash around her neck under her furs &nd. snip off as
near os she could the price of her purchases at the various counters and see
her wampum go dancing on the overhead trolley to the cashier, and after a
pleasant wait see a short string of change come back.
It is impossible to put over wampum just at present. Waiters will not
fake it. At the Majestic hotel a string which had a face value of 60 cents
was tendered by a dinner guest as a tip. With it also went a few explanatory
remarks. -The guest said the idea was to re-establish the good old Indian
money in circulation and by degrees have it adopted around town. The
waiter said he didn’t object to having the plan adopted, but until everybody
carried his money on a string he would hold to the two-bit pieces.
SHELL ON HIS
HOUSE; TELLS
HOW IT FEELS
Lieutenant Zanghierj Calmly Re-
cords His Impressions of
the Moment.
Municipal Marriage Chapel Proves to Be Popular
r*INCE the city opened its new marriage chapel, P. J. Scully, who, in his
capacity of city clerk, acts as Chief Hymen, has been wrapped in an
idealistic dream. Over the fresh beauties of the chapel Mr. Scully beams
pridefully. Peach and nectarine eolor-
H
they’re
A LlTTi-E-
DAZED 3UT
MPPY —
Ing figures in the side panels. In the
ornamentation of the frieze and ceil-
ing the imagination of the decorators
to the borough president has run riot.
Rosy garlands constitute the frieze.
The ceiling ornamentation includes a
large wreath of these blossoms, sur-
rounded by gold-colored leaves, with
the torches of Hymen placed fairly
close together. In the extension,
where the brides and bridegrooms en-
ter, there is a rectangle of lilies of the
valley. Couples pretty well clog the way to the marriage chapel. Everybody
is on the lookout for them in the municipal building, where the chapel is
situated.
A good day in the marriage bureau accounts for between 50 and 60
couples. On one day Mr. Scully’s knot-tying proclivities flourished so success-
fully that 6S happy pairs issued from the -chapel.
Greenwich Village a Quaint Bit of Gotham
IkJEAR the heart of Greater New York is a quaint little community that has
* ’ stubbornly refused to be concerned or even interested in the marvelous
development and advancement of the now largest and most prosperous city
in the world. Greenwich village, with
its narrow streets, winding alleys and
old-fashioned homes and business
places, set up a quiet resistance to the
onward march of progress that could
not he broken down. It has kept its
character and individuality and today
is the much-sought-for retreat of the
artist and seeker after the quaint and
curious.
The village of Greenwich has had
its tides of prosperity, with the result-
ant ebb and flow. For a time it
shared the fate of the other downtown districts and became the abode of a
foreign population. Then the tide turned arid a group of artists discovered
it. Because it was old and rambling, with a polyglot population, full of little
old shops, quiet retreats and crooked passageways, artists, sculptors and
writers fell in love with it at once.
They searched out vacant shops arid houses and even the stables of a
past aristocracy and cleaned and renovated them, but every old window pane,
door knocker and quaint porch pillar was preserved. These beauty spots
suggested others and the tone of the village rapidly changed. For a time
the artists had the place to themselves and enjoyed their quaint restaurants,
philosophized in their garrets and talked art in novel little back rooms sug-
gestive of a long-forgotten past. It was truly an artists’ retreat. When the
seeker for novelty in New York city discovered the quaint village of artists
It became necessary to increase the number of basement and backyard res-
ian rants to accommodate the interested visitors.
BOMB IS LITERARY ASSET
Most Exciting Adventure in Officer’s
Career Occurs While He Is Quietly
Seated in His Home Engaged
in Literary Pursuit, j.
Bill Teaches Sister the Bear Hug and Trot
*r HE bear hug, the bear kiss and the bear trot were displayed for the edificn-
■ tion of “Bill” Snyder, keeper of the animals In Central park, when a six-
montlis-old Russian brown bear, looking for all the world like a chow dog,
arrived at the park in an automobile.
The bear came from the' estate of
John D. Crimmins at Norotou, Conn., to
join his sister, who bad been sent to
the park two months ago.
The other Russian brown hear,
who has been named Sister, was put
in the cage with three ordinary brown
hear cubs because the weather was
bad. When Bill, as the new arrival is
called, was first placed in front of the
cage he gave two or three question-
ing sniffs and then began to mutter
bear language. Sister, grunting arid muttering, came to the bars. Bill stood
up on his hind legs and reached his nose through. Sister touched his nose
with her own, giving him a great, big, sisterly bear kiss. After that she set
up a howling and began walking back and forth as if aching to get out.
“Bill” Snyder’s heart was touched; the bears wanted to greet each other,
as wellbred brother and sister bear should. He opened the bars and let Slster
out to join Bill. They seized each other by the paws, threw their forepaws
around each other’s waists in a genuine bear bug, and then began danying
about—a sort of bear-trot which, according to Snyder, should be very poprilar
in society this winter.
Bill is the bear who escaped from the country home of Mr. Cummins, at
JSorofon.
by TANCRED ZANGH1ERI,
Lieutenant in the Italian Army.
{Special Correspondence to the Chicago
, Daily News.)
Goritz, Austria.—Heine tells in one
of his poems how he sought happiness
all over the world without ever find-
iqg it; returning home disconsolate, he
met it seated on the hearth of his own
house. It is an adventure which may
happen even to a newspaper corre-
spondent. A city like Goritz is an El-
dorado for the sensation seeker. Yet
I had the most interesting adventure of
my sojourn today, without moving from
my table. _
Permit me to tell you about it in. de-
tail and with precision, divided into
three chapters of varying length, and
admit that even when one is the prin-
cipal personage of a story one still has
the right to consider oneself from more
than one viewpoint.
Chapter I.—The Setting.
Up till September 21 the weather
was bad. It was not rain; it was a
deluge. The Italian trenches, like those
of the Austrians, are all cut into the
slopes of mountains and hills; despite
the shelters, the rain pours in, forms
ditches and flows through them; the
trenches become small noisy torrents.
To fight in these conditions is not pos
sible. The official bulletins express the
situation in the words: “Bad weather
hinders the operations.”
Hence a forced truce to the work of
destruction. Nature takes care of the
destruction by a sudden cold wave
dampness that penetrates one’s bones
and slows up the vital functions.
But on the 22d the weather deter-
mines to better itself. The clouds, con-
founded in a gray veil, take on forms,
thin out, show bits of sky. The day
becomes divinely beautiful; the air is
limpid as crystal. One can distinguish
every tree, every bush of Podgora,
green mass. The Sabotino, more bare,
veils its reddish scars made by hun-
dreds of thousands of shells, in the
violety vapor of a cloud, vast but tenu-
ous, interposed between it and the sun.
Monte Santo, San Gabriele, San Dan
iele, gathered up beneath the crest of
the Selva di Tarnova, seem to smile at
their unhappy brother, the Carso
'which innocently stretches ks low arid
knolls to the sun, as though to intoxi
cate itself wlthAvarmth and quiet.
No sound of cannon is heard; no
rifle crack disturbs the silence of this
spring, like florescence.
The 23rd—not a cloud In the spot-
less sky; the solar warmth raises light
mists which tint the distant mountains,
palest azure.
And not a concussion, not a shot;
only above, the airplanes are flying and
little cloudlets of white smoke follow
them. But it is not “our” war; we are
down on the earth, breathing the vivi-
fying air in great gulps. Like the little
dog of Maeterlincjt 'weTaonot uei£liri:o
cast a gianee^at' that sky which is not
deemed “eatable” by our desires/ The
/province of the air, the theater of war
3,000 feet above, does not interest us.
The bursting shrapnel is so far away
that one has to pay attention to hear
it.
This “truce of God” is strange, so
FREE WITH FOUND WEALTH
strange mat It seems the armies have
forgotten the war. I have never felt
my soul more peaceably inclined, more
bourgeois, less warlike., I forbid my
orderly to wake me early tomorrow.
And in truth this morning I got up at
8, full of crazy ideas, with the desire
to climb up, up over the wooded slopes
of a mountain, to throw, myself on the
ground upon a ^carpet of moss, to look
at the trees/' hear the chirping of
birds, enjoy all the beauty of this en-
chanted region. And the Austrians?
But do the Austrians still exist?
Some books lying on my table tempt
my fancy. I half close the curtains of
the two windows, which are filling the
chamber with light, raise the shutters
and sit down, taking up the reading
of a study of Alphonse Daudet by Doc-
tor Balke. And I read, read until a
curious statement strikes me:
‘Whereas, Daudet as a bachelor
wrote only when the Inspiration struck
him, after his marriage he acquired the
habit of daily work.”
This fact interests me. I go over to
the table and make a note of Doctor
Balke’s statement.
Chapter II—From Another Angle.
Lieutenant Puviani, an officer in the
same battalion to which your corre-
spondent has the honor of belonging, is
attached to the local command at Go-
ritz. He is a strong man, rather heavy,
getting on in years (he completed the
fortieth a few days ago), a good father
and a brave soldier, who has been at
the front and in the Immediate neigh-
borhood since the beginning of the
war. At present he has a rather quiet
post and takes advantage of it to make
horrible photographs for which he goes
about begging compliments, and copies
of which he distributes to all his
friends.
It is 11:45 a. m. and he is late for the
officer’s mess which is located near the
open door of a courtyard, in the same
street where stands the bouse of your
correspondent.
Lieutenant Puviani arrives late at
the mess. This tardiness is not neces-
sary considering that lie has nothing
to do from morning till night, but it
OBSERVERS NEAR MONASTIR
I
a
given nun a certain air of being ii
“slave of duty,” which he cultivates/
So Lieutenant Puviani walks along:
with firm and measured step toward!
the mess. Behold him in Via L—, be-
hold him in Via A—, two steps from his
goal. The street is quiet as though
lulled to sleep in the heat of a summer
afternoon.
Suddenly, at the end of the street, a
hundred yards in front of him, he hears
a sinister whistling, an explosiop, a ter-
rific noise. Pieces of wall, beams, ^
broken glass rain upon the street, while
a great cloud, first reddish, then whit-*
ish, rises into the sky.
Lieutenant Puviani looks at tire
stricken house and utters a cry. In
one jump he reaches the mess, where
all the officers of the battalion are
lunching and talking about the shell, _
“which must have fallen very near,”
and with a sentence causes them to
start to their feet.
“Ljeutenant Zanghlert’s house has
fallen in!”
The officers leave the mess and run
toward the spot where lies perhaps the
body of their brother officer. -
Chapter III—What Really Occurred.
“After his marriage he acquired the
habit of daily work.”
At the word “marriage” a dull, far
away boom, half obliterated by dis-
tance. One hears thousands like it>
every day; today none have been
heard and this is the only reason why
the ear distinguishes this. At the word
“habit” the whistle of a shell. The
customary noise. The whistle of a shell
begins shriller and again sinks as the
shell passes over. When it explodes
near you it seems to stop at its shrill-
est point, as if to collect its forces in
a great howl of rage, which is the ex-
plosion. But the shell of which I speak
differs from all the others. The low;
tone, the shrill tone, ever nearer, ever,
nearer, nearer, near—here it is! Myi
pen stops at the word “daily” in ex-i
pectation of the horrible thing. The
house receives a shock that makes it
tremble to its foundation, there comes
an immense roar as of a hundred can-
non firing together. The plaster falls
from the ceiling everywhere in the
room, which fills with a ^white powder,
while a hail of fragments strikes the
shutters. Something caves in with a
great rumble. Everything rattles,
trembles, jolts and seems to fall down-
ward into chaos, into an inferno of
broken things. ^Then silence.
The word “work” is traced hastily,
almost illegibly, by the nervous hand.
I write across the sheet: “11:45, a shell
on my house.” Then I go to the win-
dow and throw It open. Two military
policemen and four or five soldiers are
looking up, showing round eyes, and
pale, almost idiotic, faces.
At the left I see my dear colleagues
coming toward me. One of them ar-
rives on a bicycle, the others on foot.
They too, are pale, and look at me
silently, as though I were a ghost.
An entire corner of the house has
fallen in, but it is an uninhabited cor-
ner.
“What are you doing up there?”
shouts Lieutenant Fusco, the adjutant
major of the battalion. “The upper
floor is on fire.”
Really it is a false alarm; it Is only
the dust of a fallen ceiling. This does
not keep me from hurrying down to
my colleagues, happy in the escape
from danger, and even more so from
having read on their faces affectionate
solidarity for their friend. This satis-
faction is worth at least a 12-inch
shell, especially when it shows itself
as well-bred as that whose untimely
end I have described.
c::-^Xvv.4vvLv
Philadelphia Boy Dislikes to Part
With Remnant of Actress'
Property.
Philadelphia.—After having a good
time with $2,350 worth of jewels and
$400 belonging to Dorothy Granville,
a vaudeville actress, who lost the
money and jewelry In a taxicab the
other night, Abraham Kline, fourteen,
who found it, tried to convince Detec-
tives Oreeby and Brown that he had
been held up and robbed of his find.
When questioned at the Central sta-
tion by Captain Tate and other detec-
tives ho said that he had distributed
$100 to boys with whom he worked,
gave $100 to his father, tucked $200 in
the thumb of a boxing glove for fu-
ture use, and gave the jewels to his
parents. The latter turned the Jewels
over to the police.
Champion Mslon Eater.
Berkeley, Cal.—Thomas S. Vanaszk,
world's champion, is In training. Van-
aszk, a senior in the College of Let-
ters and Sciences at the University of
Two observers of the allies in the
mountains north of Monastir watching
the movements of the Bulgarian troops
which had been driven from that
Serbian city.
California, says that next summer he’ll
either break his owfi record or bust
something trying. He holds the title
of world’s champion cantaloupe eater.
Last summer he worked in Imperial
valley. Before his tent he put a
marker, and every time he ate a canta-
loupe he added a notch. When he got
through there were 789 notches, an
average of 20 a day. Now he’s prac-
ticing on oranges and cup custard, just
to keep his hand in.
Snake in Her Bed.
Marysville, Cal.—With a shriek
Miss Anmnda Purkiss, a pretty, young
school teacher of Sutter county,
jumped from her bed shortly after
midnight the other morning and fell
in a faint. When she revived she
pointed to her l)6d, and an investiga-
tion disclosed a big snake, four feet
long, asleep in .the schoolmistress’ bed.
Run Down Deer With Auto.
Auburn, Cal.—In running down a
deer near Emigrant Gap, Bert Lyons
and David Campbell scored another tri-
umph for the automobile. Lyons and
Campbell were returning from Lake
Drought Helps Honey Crop.
Salina, Kan.—Two hundred and fif-
ty pounds of honey in one bee gum
tree is the record of the George Reed
bee farm in this county, where 4,000
pounds of honey will be gathered this
year. Reed says the dry season is re-
sponsible, the alfalfa being in bloom
constantly, and the bees were able to
work without delay. Reed says this
year Is the best honey year he ever
saw and all because of the prolonged
drought.
Tahoe and saw the deer, a big five-
pronged buck, standing in the middle
of the road. The animal must have
been confused by the lights, as he
stood still until the car struck him and
knocked him down. As the buck arose
he was struck a second time. Although
the men had rifles and revolvers in the
car the deer escaped.
Bull Derails Locomotive.
Mason, Tenn.—Jumbo, a ferocious
bull, matched his strength against that
of a locomotive pulling a freight train
up a grade near here the other day.
In a field beside the tracks the engine
lies on its side, only a few feet from
Jumbo’s dead body. In a hospital at
Mason, John Burns, fireman, is seri-
ously injured. The locomotive was
hurled down a steep embankment
when it collided with the bull’s head-
long charge, but the animal continued
so active that the train crew shot
him.
Hungary prohibits the Importation
of adulterated or artificially colored
beer or the use of coloring extracts
in that brewed at home.
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The Lampasas Daily Leader. (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 13, No. 259, Ed. 1 Thursday, January 4, 1917, newspaper, January 4, 1917; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth906663/m1/2/: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Lampasas Public Library.