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tea A War Romance , The day when the captain returned to the front with the stock of knitted things which he had pone to Brest to procure, Serjeant Andrews received as his .share besides leg gings, gloves and a sweater a muffler, a pretty muffler made out of soft and delicate grayish blue wool. His pleasure was extreme in the first place because, in the monotonous life of the trenches any surprise is a great event, and an agreeable suiTri.se, recalling- life behind the front, as sumes a tenfold importance. And in the second place because Clinics Andrews was at home a clerk in an office that is to say, a man already subject, although only 2f years old, to the sen sitiveness to cold which is induced by a seden tary occupation like scratching on paper. And, above all, ho was a bit of poet in his leisure hours. J le therefore shivered a little more than his comrades, and it was with genuine satis faction that he unfolded and put. around his throat at once the welcome muffler,' so soft, 60 fluffy, so blue a coquettish adornment for & mudstained soldier like himself. Something white attractqd his attention. Fastened to one end, like a butterfly, was a little card, which contained these words, writ ten in a fine hand: "Dear Soldier of America: Be courageous and recover my country. That is the wish of a Parisian in America,, who thinks of you. Madeleine Decker, 11 St. Charles St., New York, City." A Parisian in America! Charles Andrews, .who had just landed in France, awaited im patiently the moment when he should meet the enemy in battle and defend the honor of his country. As he rtood, deep in thought, with the little card iii .V hand, something very soft caressed his chet-'.: something still softer than the flossy grayish-blue wool. He examined the muffler carefully and found a long blond lock, silky and fine, which the knitter, either by in advertence or through coquetry, had imprison ed in her work. Thereafter, during his hours of inaction Charles Andrews did not find time heavy on his hands in the trenches. The card and the blond hair of his Parisian furnished him material for long reveries for poems scrawled on the pages of his notebook in intervals between bayonet attacks on the "neighbor opposite." lie was never wounded. The blond lock t 2Vo V1""'1 J 7 III ..ir J.lrrtr- SOT? fe--y4 J WfMfm-1 " i IR II i r 1 ' 1 '-"i i mm . "Madeline put the letter, as in a coffin, in a mahogany box. against his cheek seemed to be a talisnian. It became, at the same time, an obsession, con stantly recalling the unknown donor, giving him the illusion of an invisible presence and the passionate desire to know his far-away well wisher. He wrote to her at 11 St. Charles St.. New York City, without any great hope that the letter would reach its destination. There are miracles. The letter arrived. A still greater miracle happened. He received an answer modest, reserved, delicate and charm ing, like the blue shade of the muffler. A cor respondence ensued, into which each put a lit tle of his or her heart and fancy in which, out of the threads of discreet phrases, was fash ioned the strand of an unavowed love. "When the war is over," Andrews said to himself, "I shall go back to America. 1 shall see her, and if she is what 1 hope she is, 1 shall marry her. He fore knowing her in person I shall have known her in heart and mind." But inasmuch as a slodier in wartime must be prepared for all eventualities, he put her letters in an envelope which he carried next to his breast and on which he had written: "If I am killed, please send this package to Mile. Madeleine Decker, No. 11 St. Charles St., New York City, and inform her of my death." The Parisian who held the other end of the thread the other end of the strand of hair was one of those persons without age. who, it seems, was never young. Was she 2u or 40? Or perhaps 30? Her delicate and tender soul was hidden beneath a body without grace, a face without charm, having no other adorn ment than her blond hair, of a warm tone which the sun turned to gold. Never had any young man lifted his eyes as Madeleine passed by. She was one of those who pass unnoticed, who attract nolwdy's glances. A well meaning relative had once asked her to marry him, because, being an or phan, she possessed a little dowry. Hut she re fused, not wishing to enter into a union based on interest or convention, in which the heait had no part. So she lived on. outwardly tram u. . but ,mth the immense regret which s .lumbers . n th wul of so many sp.nsters. until Charles Ande , letters beiran to disturb her peace ot nnna. She abandoned herself tenderly to mai " respondence, which, without obiirv.ns r y nnv w,iy, might bring a little rom0 poor soldier. As he had never f her anu nrobablv would never sec her, and ee"t now homely she was, she expressed fi him all those charming and delicate feeling which, she had in her heart and which she had never expressed to anybody else, for fear oi being lautthed at. Sometimes, however, in tne midst of this flowering of her soul, she became KiirMon v a raid. Mippose ne mwu.u , some fine morning on leave -or. perhaps, alter the war? Suppose he saw her? Hut he never saw her. One day she received . , n big envelope, sent under a military frank, ' as usual, but not addressed by him. She found . .. i ;a .. ,..,.-rl h ictllv in n nei icuers, un v.wu scAw led : "Mademoiselle: I regret to announce to you that mv comrade. Sergeant Andrews, waa kill ed vest'erdav in an attack on an enemy trench, lie 'died bravely, without suffering. In accord ance with his desire, I send you these letters. Madeleine rend no moi e. The papers dropped to her feet, while hc. with i:pressionlesa eyes, undimmed by tears, was lost in thought. He had died for France her American hero and also he had died for America. He would never see her. He had departed, carrying with him the illusion of having been loved by a beautiful young girl. And she retained the trcasuie of a sweet dieam, which no shadow and no deception had tarnished. Her unknown friend would never belong to another. He had gone, with his nureole of heroism; and beyond the tomb, in his glory, he would remain hers. Thanks to him. she had known the sweetness of loving, of loing loved and of weeping for one dear to her. Into her lonely life he had cast a flower and had then passed on. It would never lade. Madeleine picked up the letters and got out those which Andrews had written to her. Hav ing tied together with a silk thread and a strand of her iong blond hair, she deposited them, a.; in a coffin, in a mahogany box ex haling the di.--( reet perfume of an ancient sachet bag. HOME REVERIES ...By. . AUSTIN CALL AN tie? THE NEW NEIGHBORS While visiting my more prosperous city brother recently, I had occasion to ask him who lived next door. He replied: "I don't know," and went right ahead talking about oil leases, limousines and other such matters that were of no concern whatever to me. I let the matter drop there but it put me to thinking. How was it possible for a perfectly sane man to live thirteen feet from another human being with out knowing his name? I wondered if he had never gone over there to borrow a cup of sugar or to use the telephone while his own was out of commission. Well, things are different now than what they used to be; that is the way I reasoned to myself. Back at the old home where we were both brought up, a neighbor couldn't live that close to our door more than one day with out divulging his name, his business, where he came from, who his wife's people were and what church he belonged to. I wanted to re mind him of this, too, so the very first chance, 1 said: "Do you remember when old Amos Davies moved next door to us down there by the schoolhouse?" "Yes," he replied, "and I haven't forgotten how ma won ied that first night about his dog. She said ihat she just knew we would never get another etrjr on that place. It was a sorry enough looking cur, but he turned out better than she prophesied. I remember, too, how we had to chunk up all the cracks in the fence to keep those Shanghais out of the yard. Pa declared that it the worst came to the worst he would buy some game roosters and let them do the executing." Well. I soon found out that my city brother had not forgotten his raising, even if he had departed from it. He called to mind how us kids enticed the little freckle-faced Davies boy to the cow lot and got him to tell us all about his daddy and mammy. We learned the fam ily history before the morning and the evening of the second day had passed. Mr. Davies was a "Campbellite" and wouldn't go to church with his wife because she was a close-communionist, and they had sold a mule back in the coast country to make the trip out West. They want ed to get away from a mussed-up spot a wild brother of the boy's ma had put on Davies' "rep" by serving time for stealing a sheep. Hut the idea of anybody not knowing who lived next door that is what got my goat. There is no excuse for such unconcern about other folks' affairs as that. If he were a neigh bor like we had in those old days of my kid hood and yours, he might have told me the brand of flour they used, what kind of fruit cake recipe the good woman had, and whether the little boy in the home inherited his bad traits from his pa, or just picked them up by running with the preacher's son. Cut as a people we are drifting from the sun kissed waters of neighborly knighthood into a cold indifferent channel. We don't seem to have that old concern for the family history of those about us that we once had; we are more interested in the seating capacity of their cars, than in the number of children they claim or at what age the baby cut his first tooth. Jm afraid that as our minds lose interest in the lives and characters and peculiarities of the folks across the fence, our hearts forget to feel for them when they really need sympathy. Where there is no touching of souls, alas! there is no helping of hands. AN AUTOCRATIC DECISION The majority doesn't always rule not by a jugfull if such an expression is permissible in bone-dry America. Sometimes the verdict of overwhelming odds is set aside by the minor ity. This is not politics, either, but 1 am going to tell you how my mother once usurped her power away back yonder when I was a boy. She was out-voted eleven to two, but she wouldn't abide by the decision. It happened this way: Two peddlers met in front of our house one day in the good old sum mertime; one of them had watermelons to sell and the other potatoes. These fellows got into quite a discussion as to which had the most popular product. The debate got real interest ing and all of us boys there were ten of us crawled up on the wagon that the w;iler melons were in. They were fine ones and they sure looked good to us. Well, finally the fellow with the potatoes said: "We'll just leave it to those concerned; it is useless for you and I to discuss it." The watermelon man agreed and a vote was taken. Ma and the potato manoted that potatoes were the most essential and the healthiest; they only had two "ayes." The watermelon man and us ten kids voted watermelons. Hy the verdict of the majority we were winners more than five to one. Hut what do you reckon ma did? Why she purchased a bushel of the potatoes and allowed the watermelon man to drive right off. We protested but it didn't do a bit of good. In those days watermelons were cheap; the best one in that lot could have been bought for fifteen cents. 1 sometimes wish that we could turn back the wheels of time and make them spin and spin, until the yellow glints of the sunlight of that far away time revealed to us a patch of beauties smiling on the vine behind an old rail fence. I don't know how Heaven is going to look, maybe I shall never know, but could there be an abode, even with the pres ence of angels, calculated to fill a mortal's heart with more joy than that? YESTERDAY AND TODAY Don't you remember how he snuggled up close in your lap and how his bright eyes fairly danced when you told him that "the big black bear commenced climbing right up the tree where the little boy was?" He couldn't go to sleep at all without daddy telling him a story. Just as soon as supper was over, his soft, chubby hand would take hold of yours and he'd lead you away to the nearest rocking chair. Then, after you had climbed the bean stock with Jack and flirted through the woods with Little Red Riding Hood, you had to make up a fairy tale of your own. How wonderfully beautiful was the garden of dreams into which you strolled with that babe on your lap! And the dancing Daf foes tiny creatures of your own creation dndn't you strip the rainlww of its glory and the blossoms of their most gorgeous tints, in order to dress them up for the "moonlwam dance?" You had to think fast, too, for children's im patience reaches the climax when you stop to study in the middle of a wonderful adventure. And once you were almost lost when he wanted to know who played the music. Hut you caused his little sides to shake by saying: "Old Creenie. the Hull Frog, who used a fiddle made by stretching hairs from a pussy cat's tail over the top of a tiny gourd." It 'was just yesterday, wasn't it, that you were entertaining the boy with your little queer creatures in the purple woods? And adroitly you steered an airship far away into the clouds, while amazed he sat by your side. Among the stars you rode like a flying meteor, stopping only an instant now and then to give the man in the moon a chew of tobacco, or to chum some butter from the milky way. At length the soft eyelids would grow heavy, then close and you would change your wild, unreasonable narrative into a low hum, until the velvety fingers that held tighi and tighter to yours in innocent faith, relaxed and by the soft and peaceful breathing you knew; your baby was asleep. Yes, that was Yesterday; the fairies are fat away now and the old airship lies shattered somewhere in the valley of Faded Fancy. The boy who mounted your lap each eventide to hear the stories is a man today. Hack from the flaming battlefront he has come with real tales as wonderful as those strange creatures of imagination with which you entertained him just a little while ago. He tells you of a battle with the submarines and how his eyes brighten when the thrill of it comes back to him. " 'Twas to our starlxrird. dad, and we rushed upon the deck to catch a glimpse of the periscope. The gunners were busy and breathlessly we awaited results. After awhile a white line of bubbles was visible which marked the course of a torpedo that had missed its mark. Then a Yankee shot found the sneak ing coward of the deep. Hurrah! We had scored a victory, and gee, how beautiful Un American flag looked floating out there in the yellow sunlight." On and on he goes, that baby of yours w hose toes you used to gently . twist as you named them one by one like this, Little Pea, Tenny Rue, Mary Ossle, Rosy Whistle, and then with a big twist Great Gobble Gobble! You shudder now as he relates his dangerous ex periences, just as he did at your bear stories, and when he tells about how close the bombs from the Zeppelins fell, as he stood guard out there in the night with only the stars and those messengers of death overhead, something pulls at you away down in your heart. It all seems like a dream that boy, that baby you once daddled on your knee telling of wild and wick ed war in which he participated, of strange cities far over the sea, of the beauty of the blue Mediterranean and the mighty Alps lift ing their head3 up to the first kiss of the stars. "But dad, I tell you it was squally the night we crossed the English channel. No stars were visible, Egyptian darkness surrounded us,. and 'twas there they said the subs were lurking to strike a blow at the vitals of America. I couldn't stay below because the odor of the vesael stifled me, no 1 came up on deck. You couldn't see your hand In? fore you and all was as still as death, with the exception of a splash ing wave out to one side, or some muffled sound aboard the ship. Hut I felt safe because I knew that a convoy of submarine destroyers skipped through the' waters on either side, flying the flag of my country. The splashing of the waves said to me: "Fear not. we are here," and I v nt to sleep, with all the confidence of those other days when you held my hand as 1 wan dered off into Dreamland." COMMUNITY HOUSES AS MEMORIALS TO SOLDIERS. The movement to erect community houses as memorials to Soldiers and sailors is spreading rapidlv over Kansas and even Texas. Walter Hurr, "director of the rural service depart ment, Kansas State Agricultural College, is receiving large numbers of requests for sug gestions and plans and specifications. "The community house m&vement, where properlv organized, is to be most highly com mended." said Mi. Hurr. "These social service stations arc certainly much better as memo rials than marble shafts would be. It has been feared bv some that there is danger in this movement in that it will proceed as a fad and result in the erection of a number of poorly equipped, mismanaged buildings, which will be perpetual problems in the community when the war enthusiasm has passed. Such a calamity can be avoided by following certain methods in financing, electing and maintenance of these buildings. . ..... "In the average Kansas community the build- should be financed on tne laxanon oasis., , is the only democratic way to handle com- munitv enterprise. It K. untair to place me burden of financing such an institution upon the shoulders of a few enterprising citizens who might donate the money. 'Wherever possible the project should be de veloped on the basis of a lond issue for a new school building, or w here such a building is not needed for an added building on the school grounds. "Coincident also with this p ;r nust be the voting of a sufficient salary ; . sji.te member of the school faculty who will U employed for the entire twelve months and wilt, among other duties, be given the supervision of the social recreational activities of the community as con ducted from the school center. "The building should provide for an audito rium and a gymnasium combined if necessary shower baths for men and women, a reading room, rest roomstor men and women who come into the town to trade, and if in a county seat town an office room for the county agricultural agent, the county Y. M. C. A. secretary and any other executives of county-wide organixa tions. CrA un fin1 pnmmiinitv fintl0. thnf ram in cnu .. -w. -...--- - - " vm..v . . . a wave of temporary enthusiasm and that nnur Ivincr A. Rtrnnded nnrl akanriAriAsI wrecks, but no service center established as rec ommended here as a part of the school plant has ever met such a fate." ' ing Thi on are rictnVbpa nre beine hatched in !nrnhnfnr in Smith America. IVT"