THE BKK: OMAHA, TUESDAY, SEmiMBER 24, 1912.'
pie ee' )ne aa z. i ie f)a
SILK HAT HARRY'S DIVORCE SUIT
The Judge is Happy, but Worried
Copyright, 1912, National News Aas'n.
Drawn for The Bee by Tad
- - S ' - ' - . i mi ' '"' I, . i i . . - i i I. i .- . ' ' II- T ' 4
! ' ' ' ' ' '
: ; '. ! '. '. ' , . , .
Hunting a Husband
The Widow, in Despondent Mood, Has It Borne in Upon
Her That She Ought to Marry.
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAX DEWATER.
Every Ionian knows that It Is an easy heard the hysterical shriek of a woman
matter to get ready to leave town for
the summer in three days, especially
when one has expected to have a week In
which to make preparations. Beatrice
had a -'sensation of impotent rage when,
after giving his orders, Dr, Haynes had
taken his departure. The strong neces
sity of speech was upon her, and she went
; ipto the kitchen and spoke her mind to
. "I wish," she said, "that my own doc
i tor was In town. He, at least, would
j have more consideration for me than to
I insist that I get away from here by next
, "Is it Monday you'll he Jeavin" town?"
. asked the maid, astonished. "
" "Yes, it is, so Dr. Haynes says," re
plied her mistress. "But, when I think 6f
' it, I've half a mind to take my own time
1 about it. Tell me Mary, do you believe
fthat a few days more or less will make
' any difference in the little girl's condi-
: tionr v
Tht maid's kind 1 Irish face showed
: genuine regret,
"Well, ma'am," she acknowledged,
"since you ask ime for the truth I must
say that I do think the poor darlin'
1 should be out of this heat as soon as she
,can be got away. And. It's for her sake
I say. this, forMt ain't no fun for me to
go out to a lonesome country place away
from my friends. But, sure ma'am, she
' does look bad."
"Well, there's no uso wasting time
: then," said the mother with a sigh,
' '.'I'll just have to hurry and get things
together for going. Have luncheon as
soon as you can, for all the shopping to be
attended to must be done this afternoon
and tomorrow morning--slnce tomorrow
will h fiflturdav and most of the shoos
close at noon. Before luncheon I'll make:
out a list of what's wanted for the chil
dren and myself." t
.i "But you have most of the summer
clothes bought already, haven't you,
ma'am?" asked Mary.
. Beatrice made an impatient move
ment. "No," she said, "I haven't all the
clothes needed for Pleasan(ttown,1 al
though have -enough for us all If we
were going to sty qiiletly in town. And,"
of jcourse, we will heed fewer things
than if we were, to be at a summer
'hotel.- But, even soj Mrs.' Bobbins .en-.
! terrains.' a, good' deal, and will expect
. ma ; there, and I must have a plenty of
dresses for that purpose."
Tfee 'day was humid and warm, and
the trip'"' through ' the "various s'hops
wearying , even tof a woman who loved
j to $uy as did Beatrice. Today she felt
oddly depressed, and was conscious al
jthe: while, that, she was extravagant in
! her purchases.' Few things are more de
j pressing "than the knowledge that one is
ispehdlng more money than is wise and
msv aiieau ti one are greater expenses
especially when-this knowledge is unac
companied by- the wiil pqwer- to deter--mine
one to . stop buying. Beatrice did
not forget that;ther whs a doctor's bill
as yet unpresen'ted. that she was taking
upon herself the additional expense of a
summer wttage, and that,; meanwhile
the - rent of her closed' city apartment
must be met all through , the heated
terjh, although she would be out of
town and getting no benefit from her
New York residence. Yt, the pretty
things in the shop tempted her, 'and shi
did not leave the last department store
until the sound of the gong gave notice
that work ' was to cease and that the
jaded clerks' could go home.
Wishing that she had shopped a little
faster, Beatrice turned reluctant steps
toward the subway. It seemed to her
that thousands of others were doing
the same thing. , .
People who' leave the city In the sum
mer Jiave a way of saying that "every
body is out of town," a statement they
would be forced to retract if they at
tempted to board the subway train during
rush hours. This was the widow's
thought this afternoon as she forced her
way through the throngs that waited at
the express station. As her train drew
in, she was borne along, wedged in be
tween men and women most of them
chatting , and laughing good naturedly. in
. spite of the heat and general discom
fort. The widow. In musing on her own
. affairs and in her absorbing self-pity at
being in this rough and perspiring throng,
did not heed the guard's warning itera
tion of "Watch your step." Indeed she
' was so tired that she paid little attention
td anything but her own morbid thoughts.
near her. She, herself, uttered no sound,
but, quick as lightning, the guard had
seized her by one arm, she felt her other
arm gripped by a man who must have
been just behind her, and she was pulled
up, set upon her feet and forced on Into
the car. Here she- caught at a strap to
keep from falling, for she was weak and
The crowd about her seemed to have
forgotten, or not to have noticed, the ac
cident, which, while it might have been
serious, waa, after all common enough.
But she heard a man the man who had
helped her to her feet and whose face
she had not seen remark gruffly to the
guard that the Subway was no place for
women at this time of day and that "un
less a woman's work kept her down
town she ought to be at home before
The widow recognized the voice as
Robrt Maynard's, and her pallor gave
way to a glow of anger. Letting go
of the strap to which she had clung.
a kind youth, noting, perhaps, her shak-
forward end of the car in the hope that
she would not he recognized by the man
whom she had wished to avoid. Here,
a kind, youth, noting, perhaps, hershak
Ing hands and trembling Upb, gave her
his seat, and, with a murmured: "Thank
you!" she sank into It and closed hei
eyes. She Was spent and exhausted and,
longed to cry. It was hard on a woman
to have to fight the world alone, to have
to buy and save and spend, with nobody
In all the world of whom to ask advice
If the children were only older, she
would like to He down and die.
She felt' the hot tears rush' , to hei
eyes, and kept her lids closed lest the
drops escape. : She was tired of. it all
she told herself. She had nothing to
look forward to except to care for hei
children until they would need her ho
more. Then she would be an old woman
"I 6ught to-carry," she thought ;'but
then came the question "whom?" The
men who want me I don't want; and.
besides, none of them Is desparately
anxious to marry me. And the men l
would, perhaps, take If I could, 'do not
wish to tie themselves down to a pool
widow and two children."
Suddenly she felt strongly impelled ,to
open her eyes, Was some one looking
at her she wondered, and d!d the sfang
effect caused by a steadfast gaze give
her this desire to life her heavy i:ds?
Suddenly her will power deserted her.
and she opened her eyes wide and looked
up Into those of Robert Maynard stand
ing above her. ' ,' i
Girls as Husband Hunters
To the many fads of vocational training
in the public schools a new one waa pro
posed at the recent teachers' institute in
Cincinnati by tr, Holmes, a psychologist
of the University of Pennsylvania. He
says "All teachers should teach their g:rl
pupils how to distinguish a real man
from an Imitation one. When a girl
marries she Is married to the family of
a man for -four or five generations back.
If his grandparents were deficient she
will have to expect trouble with her
children." , ' " '
" There. Is a certain eex partiality in the
Inference that the proposed instruction be
given only ' to girl pupils. , Surely, on
equal grounds, boys should be taught .to
know a real girl from an imitation one.
A boy may not have to marry a girl's
family five generations back, but . be
certainly has to' accept the old folks,
and if, be has been careless he will have
to expect trouble with his mother-in-law.
But, waiving the Issue of partiality and
considering only the vocation of the girl
as a husband chooser, very little reflec
tion will bring out the well-nigh hopeless
absurdity of the proposed education.
Nearly three thousand years of experience
recorded In tales and histories proves
that the more a, girl Is taught and edu
cated : to marry a particular man the
more she doesn't do It. And wh6 shall
decide between wha is the real man
and what the imitation? . Can any school
tacher do it better than the school -girl
of marriageable age? New York World.
Different Material. .'
A young fellow sidled Into a Fourth
until, as she reached the edge of the j 0f talk, told them that he was a ll2 grad-
piatrorm, sne stepped, neeaiess or tne uaie ana oiierca nis services, ine head
gap between it and the car, into . the ' T, lne Ilrm ,OKea lne graau.i over casu-
yawning space between the two.
8iie slipped down with a sickening Jolt,
and for a terrifying instance felt the
pressure of the crowd behind her and
i nave no position to oner you.
sain. ' . . , ,
"You misunderstand me," responded the
graduate. "What I want Is a job."
Two minutes later he was at work.
OAT A BAR NAMES THE FlVfj GREAT fOWERSr
MR.MclNTYRE AND Two OTHER
FELLOWS WENT OUT WALKING
ONE "DM WITH A GIRL WHOM
NOME OF THEM CAKED POU
AND THEY WANTED TO GET
WD OF HER THEY DECIDED
TO TIE MCR TO A TREE. BUT
THE TWO FELLOWS WITH Ml?.
MtlNTYRE DID NOT HAVE THE
NERVE TO TIE HEP. THFNTWE
Question was. would
TAKE 'EM OFFi!
WE KNOW YOU v
ftENTLErttN BE SEATED
TAMBO - MISTA H FLYN fi CAN
YOU TELL ME DE DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN TESS M'MAHON
AND AN EMPLOYEE OF A
MATCH FACTORY ?
WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE.
TAMBO -WHY TES5 McMAHON
19 A MATCHER OF BOXERS
AND THE OTHER GENT IS A
BOAET5 OF MATCHES.
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF
I SLEEP IN THE BARN
WHO IS .
IT WAS A COLO WINTERS NI6HT. THE
COUNTRY FOLK WERE GATHERED
IN THE MEETIN& HOUSE VOTING
ON THE SALE OF CROPS FDR THE
YEAR NOT A SOUND WAS
HEARD BUT THE FLOW OF JUICE
THROUGH THE CORNCOBS.
WA6 HEARD FROM OVEI? THE
HILL EVERYBODY TUMPED UP
AND BEAT IT FOR THE DOOR .
B'GO&H THE BUG HOUSE WAS
BURNIN AND THE LOON&
STANDI N6 ON TH E Top OF THE
HILL YELLED TO- GETHER
VF THE SPHINX 19 AMID THE
SANDS OF SAHARA WHAT IS .
THE GREAT PYRAMID:
ME mV DIFFERENT
IM TNE BOOB
Under-Water Photography and Its Marvels
A SIMPLE DEVICE REVEALS THE HABITS OF SUBAQUEOUS AND AMPHIBIOUS LIFE'
By GARRETT P. SKRVISS.
PENGUIN REACHING SURFACE OF WATER AFTER' ITS CATCH.
If Jules Verne's Captain Nemo; during
his journey of 20,000 leagues under the
Sea, had thought of It he might have left
photographs of the extraordinary scenes
that he witnessed which, because "photo
graphs never lie," would have convinced
the readers of his strange history that
nothing but the simple truth was being
presented to them.
But Dr.-Francis Ward had not invented
his sub-aquatic photo-graphic apparatus
at the time when the veracious French
man wrote his romance, and so he could
not give visual proof of his statements ,
about what goes on under the water, such
as Dr. Ward gives 'us today. - Some of
Dr. Ward's photograph's are reproduced
with this , article and the reader can
judge for himself how Interesting his ex
periments lu-ve been. And they are not ;
only curious, a-d interesting, but sclcn- i
tiflcally important as 'well.
The "scheme Is simplicity Itself, as a ,
glance at the accompanying diagram ri- ,
veals. Dr. ' Ward happened to live near ?
the bank of a creek into which tidal
water flows. The water wa's deep and
pure, and the Bank steep and rocky. It
occurred to Dr. Ward to excavate a
chamber In the bank, large enough to a
is: - - ' ' ,,l'.'"''
r . . . . - . Ai &
PENGUIN, ON SEA BOTTOM, ABOUT
. TO SEIZE A FISH.
hold him and his camera, cover it with
a trap door to keep out the light from
the sky, and then place a large sheet of
clear glass, hermetically sealed, on the
side toward the water. Enough light, he
found, penetrated down through the
water to render everything In clearly
visible and photographable. ,.
It only remained to get the living crea
tures in the water within the' focus of
his lenses. This proved to be easy, for,
since the creek was connected with the
sea, aquatic life of many kinds entered
it and passed freely before the camera.
One great advantage was that this crea
tures were not prisoners, amid strange
surroundings, but had come of them
selves into the place. Thus the photo
grapher could be sure that they were not
posing for effect, but were acting in ac
cordance with their natural proclivities.
However, he waa not altogether satis-
fled with this. As soon as he found that
DIAGRAM EXPLAINING THE SIMPLE DEVICE MAKING DNDER-WATER
, ; , , PHOTOGRAPH IT POSSIBLE.
his planAwas a success, he induced
other animals to enter his photographic
trap, and made pictures of them In the
It was In this way that he secured a
photograph of a seagull in the act of
plunging beneath the water In pursuit
of a small fish.
A curious fact developed by these sin
gular experiments is that the camera
catches nothing that is above the sur
face of the water. That surface acts
like a screen sheering off all extra
neous light from above,
made a great many reveal for tils' first
time the actual movements of aquatic
animals - and fish when they are in
thelj native element, and from this fact
arises the scientific Importance 'of the
experiments. Thus far such photographs
have been made at a depth of a few feet
only; but evidently the depth can be
greatly increased, for considerable sun
light penetrates clear water for many
yards from the surface. A similar ap
paratus might even be employed to pho
tograph a wreck upon which divens ar
The excellence of the riatural lfght at
a small depth Is shown by the fact that
Dr Ward's photographs are made with
an exposure of " less than one-five-hundredth
ot a second.
Among the animals experimented with,
penguins, which are great fisher, fur
nished some of the most remarkable
photographB during their chase of fish
under water. But a surprise was In
store for the photographer when he
tried to obtain a picture of a plunging
cormorant. This bird Is of bronze-black
color, and was expected to form' a very
distinct object. But it turned out that
the feathers of the cormorant, through
some peculiar property- of their surface,
became at once so coated -with glitter
ing air bubbles that the , picture was
nothing but a light blur.
A Puppy and a Romance
tlj WINIFRED BLACK.
This has been the pup's busy di H
was up before the dawn, and when we
went otit to see what sort of a day It
was before breakfast th doorstep was
On uii bM siuud
a fine, hearty old
boot, on the other
lay a torn giova
that had been In
the gutter for a
year or so, If looks
are to be taken
into account and
In tha. center,
like the piece de
resistance at, a
was an old rag
that bad come from
who ever dtres ntTT.rJ
guess what rag pit.
. And the pup -lay In th midst of his
treasures so blissfully happy and so
prpud that I. for one. hadn't the heart to
scold him, but stooped and patted him
What a Ihameful breach of discipline!
That pup will grow up Into a disgraceful
dog, I know. 'He ll have to, after the
way he's being trained; but, dear me, he'll
never be a big-footed, lop eared, bright
eyed pup but once, and I'll never hva
ths fun of him again, so spoiled he is,
and spoiled,, I'm afraid, he'll remain. ,
I Last night he was lonely, and he went
tjv the bed before the little boy lay sleep
ing the deep aleep of chlldhoon, and pulled
every one of the Cttle bdy's bed clothe
off and made a bed for himself.
I heard him sighing with content and
found him wagging his tall In the friend
liest fashion, while the little boy'tummt
over and shivered and doubtless dreamed
of falling Into the Ice cream freezer.
When the clothes were back and the
little boy tucked In again the pup was J
lonely. Oh, how lonely and sad and for
saken and forlorn that pup was So Iw
leaped and he Jumped and hs performed
unheard-of-feats of agility until at last
he wiis-sitisgled under the covers and'
puzsllng comfortably at the little boy's
ear. -y 1 . ( .''-. .'
-Balked of that place of comfort, he ran
to a trunk, climbed up, pulled away at
the things thst hung about It. and ram
down in triumph with the little boy's
cowboy suit. The cowboy suit was just
the thing, and he niude that into n nice
soft bed and snuggled down again as In
nocently as a baby. '
. When I took that away from, him and
put him out of doors he told ths moon all
about It and the stars; and then he got
up some kind oAwlreless. connection with
Jupiter and told him nbout the heartless
Injustice of the world till he fell asleep.
Where does he get all h'a energy, I'd
like to know, that pup? The old dog
wonders about it, too, I see him looking
at the pup an old men look on and marvel
at th folly and the magic endurance of
"Was I ever like this?" the old . dog
thinks. I can tell ly his eyes and by the
satirical twitch of hli long upper Up.
''Was I ever as foolUh and good-humored,
and so outrageous and so Impudent, and
so absolutely happy as that Idiot Of a
And the pup tweaks the old dog by the
tall And wools him by the scruff of the
neck, and snatches the old dog's bone
from his very mouth and runs away ond
buries It, wagging all the time. ' .How,
much more admirable the old" dog is
than some men. " , ',
There's old Croesus across the way, his
boy la replica of him with all the lines
and the i marks of conflict rubbed out.
Just like him, they say, though we who
never knew Croesus when he was young,
and gay1, and light of heart!' and generous,
and foolish and extravagant, can scarcely
believe it. -,
He's In love, Is Croesus' , son dead in
love' with little Miss Poverty around the
corner, and little Miss Poverty is in love
with the son of Croesus, 'but they don't
dare mention It. , .
Why? There nothing wrong with
little Miss Poverty, except that she's as
young a the wife of Croesus was wherr
he married her, and she has a pair of
dimples. Last night she waa looking at
the antles of the pup and she laughed,
and the corners of her little cherry of
a mouth well, really, if I'd been the son
of Croesus I'd have kissed that little
Miss Poverty then and there If all the
world looked oh. I had an 'errand In
the house just then. Maybe he did kiss
her In the very face of the puppy's in
terested and absorbed attention. I hope
he did for my part, but Croesus turns
blue If any one even mentions Miss
Poverty's name. '
"She's a chit," he says, "and an up
start, too." And et they do say fhat
Croesus-waa In love with Miss Poverty's
mother once himself, and almost died
when she refused him.
His son Is too young to marry.
Croesus says, too young, and at his
age Croesus had a son and two daugh-y'
Oh, thofe two poor daughters, every
one is so sorry lor mem.' vroesus
thinks they are the finest girls in the
werld, and no one Is' good -enough ",''
them. ' '
When a man so mucn as ventures to ;
call on one of the poof daughters of ,
Croesus, Croesus growls so that the
young man never comes again, and the"-;
poor daughters are getting older and'
older and plainer and plainer. " t
And the son of old CroeSusls more' '
and more unflllal and discontented, f"
heard htm say the other day he'd rather '
dig ditches for a living and be his own'
master than to live In a palace and havTf '
every hair of his head combed for him'
day and night. ' N ' M,!-
I wonder why , he doesn't, try It the'"
ditch digging. I'm going to ask him th'
next time he comes to see the pup. I"
believe little MIks Poverty would make
a fine wife for a ditch digger. She rait'
make bread, they say, and " cake, tooV'
but If eggs were high, perhaps
However, If 1 were the son of Croesus""'
I'd have a try at the digging for a,Mi
I wish old Croesus would come and see
the pup and notice how the old dog.
treats him. ,;.
U might teach him lcssonI wondeii(
If It would? '' . -; . ,W
' 4 'Si
Little Bobbie's Pa
IJy WILLIAM V. KIRK. ",'
I have Jest rote' a song, wife, aed Pa,-'
that f think you Wud like to hear.
I wud like to hear It all rite If you,-
will let Bobble sing It. aed Ma. I am,:
afrada that you wuddent be abel to do ;.t
so fine a song Justice. . ; t ,
Well, sed Pa, then Bobbie ran sing
it. I knew that he wfnted to sing
htssrlf, but what Ma sed about it bee- ,.s
Ing a fine song made htm feci kind of ,,.,
good after , all. 8o Pa . handed ma tiia v
song, & I sang It tht best I cud for, r
the kind of song It was. This waa th
nalm of the aong: ..,
The drawing room was crowded in a .
city far away.
It was a poHtlntiun's hoam, so brlllyunt ,
ana so gay,- ,
His wife was cooking ' dinner wen a '
guest calm through the door
sed Do you think William Taft will
She nit him with a turnip on. his .bald
and shiny pate
& summing like tne following was the
word that she did state.
' Chorus: ' " - ,
Nix, Nix, Nix on Polytlcks,' ' ' I
I'm tlrnd of Teddy Roosevelt & his llttel
Mull Moose tricks '
I wuddent care It iaft grew Daft &
s Mlson crossed the Styx,
Nix, Nix. Nix on Polyticks!
Well, ht,d l'a,Nwhat do you think of
that for a song? . . u
It dident seem to liswress me favjr- .
able, sed la. i It not true, not true
to life & tot true to wimmen, sed Ma. .
Did you ewer see me. for Instens, throw
Ing a turnip at a man's bald hed? Itf '
the first place I never cooked a turnip
& wuddent have one In ray hand, t UTS
the second place 1 cuddent throw strata
enuff to hit anybody in the bed. unless
I aimed at ills fei't. . ., 'V
Pft got kind of mad then. Wife, deer,
sed Pa is thare anything that I eWer
did that you liked? 'i was almost sure1 -that
this one thna. you wud Ilka this
son&. I, spent a lot. of tlm on it. I
thought tne chorus was kind of catchy.
You poor old boy,- sed ma, I dident
think that you was go ng to cry so hard,
or anything like that; H it will make you
feel any better o tell you that I think "
the song 1 'good, I will - say1 that the .
song is good. I only thought that you '
wanted by real pplnyun, jja sed.
You know as well as i do that poly
ticks la everything rite now & that It Is
always a important part of American
life. Why doant you rite a song about
the moonlite in the lake, or sumthing
of that kind. Everybody tkrwws that
thare is moonlite on the lake when thare
Is a lake & a nite that the moon is out.
I guess you better, lay off on song
writing, sed Ma & try sumthing else.' I
was reeding the other day about a man
that got ten thousand dollars for curing
a horse that beelonged to a rich man.
Why doant you try beelng a veterinary
surgeon instead of a poet . .,
Beelng a what? sed Pa.
Oh, anything sed . Ma. Try beelng a
shipping clerk. But doant be a sons
riter. : : '
So then Pa toar up his song as eesy
as he used to tear up Broadway,- '
What Ther Don't 8mr
"This weather Is better than last
year's." . ' , . .
"These were not the best seats I could i
get. I had an attack of stinginess when .
I got to the box office."
"I am glad to have you go, Mr.. Bore
sum. Come and see us as seldom as you
xml | txt