j NEW NEWS of YESTERDAY | 1 rr —iH By E. J. EDWARDS i "=) I ■ - - —-— Crucial Event in His Career Ce»> Oft* . * M 0«l)t When a Vasin P*»ie3 He Could Handle an3 basdue Ge’-g of Rowdy Raaraad Caborwm. Mai <»• t .fesvllla M Dodge, with •it •acwidi a «d May Gen. D>«le' ki i'tUt u '.be ualy survivor oi ail ike g-w*ral» who served a» ct»rp» 1°“ ■Wdrri m Ike Imoo army from tbe outbreak oi tbe Clrll mar (« lu cloa*. Ja 'be ttatory at tbe material devel ufanrat *< tho country be occupies a la»i_i place aa tbe cble! engineer «*’ ttu Crum Pa-Or who supervised f. <.JMtn«*. grttrlj !r»r» and other tig r~ F.tr « a D« tee and I bate 1<»# on te**.- •:i<&ea'» -a!d George IT Parker, tbe bl ««*: . -r f Grover Cleveland. re •■*■■■ ivc 1 btieit there are only tbr<« um li; leg m bo kpow tbe true ***»'• *• " ral Oo ige* hilient in ific *e*i - a railway engineer. Of cowry*. im a -lal slave!.* u one of tbe tbrwe. »«d - tier .» Peter A Dry. tbe first to*-, o i 'i»y a railroad in the slate •< a and the ftr.,1 chitl engineer • .. I'utn Pacific railroad Uoip h l»> and (.enerai Dodge are >pcnd M fir ousiwg years to Iowa, and Ik- taalniain the closest friendly te lai^us*. whi.h began jlxty years ago. at he ur; begi&aitg of General Itadge* career in the west. !* the early fiitlea ahal u now tne l.cSiKs Ceniral rajruad was construct ive a -o-s I brands lose in the western tar f«r o .diic lidpoui. The engineer la •urge »-f Peter A Dry. who bad teen f t: ptceously associated with -» *bo a lie earlier bad built b* ft am ..te at tbe Illinois Central G » !r- manner was .nherentiy ’tot of ohe »to knew bow to exert seksny Mr 1* • i»tff him what he could «• is« .t rv-pfj the stranger said ) that he was a civil engineer and nad ben gradiated at Norwich university. 1 in Vermont, a year earlier. " What is your name?- Mr. Dey asked " 'Grenville Mellen Dodge.’ *’ ’Well.- said Mr. Dey. ’If you have a diploma from Norwich university you are competent to take charge ot the surveying of my branch line Hut •hat 1 want to know is, can you handle men? “ Try me and see.’ was Mr. Dodge s succinct reply. “'You are pretty young.’ sal.1 Mr. | Dey. looking him over critically, ’but I I’ll try you.’ "So be employed Grenville M. ! Dodge, and watched him closely. , Within a week the young man bad i tb»- rowdies under his control. Those that be could not manage because ot •heir excessive drunkenness he sent away In a month he had as orderly and • fflcier.t a gang of workmen as was to be found anywhere ia the I west: and he also had gained what ...i> of lifelong advantage to him— i _ I (the confidence and esteem of Peter A. Dey. So. when Mr. Dey was employed to survey for the extension of tfiq | Rock Island railroad across Iowa— j the first of the state’s railroads—he i scut lor Grenville M. Dodge and asso I elated Mr. Dodge with him in that • great werk. ! ’’Then the Civil war intervened and the young surveyor became a major j general cf volunteers when only thir | ty three years of age. His fighting ca ' reer over. Peter Dey employed Gen eral Dodge to help him survey the Union Pacific. As long as Mr. Dey re mained chief engineer of that road, General Dodge was a trusted assist ant. and when Mr. Dey resigned his post General Dodge understood so well the engineering problems of the road that he was made chief engineer. And to this day Mr. Dey is of the opinion that if Grenville M. Dodge had not shown himself equal to the first op ; portunity that came to him to prove his ability to handle men—desperate ! men—he would never have ultimately i gained permanent laurels by his work : in surveying the Union Pacific modest yet noted musician which. I think, will match the story of Jenny Linus courting of the modest piano playing Goldschmidt. Gold schmiclt. you may recall, though he loved Jenny Lind, felt that he was too far below her to tell her so. and so. Jean/ Lind being in love with Uer pianist, and realizing why he hesi tated to tell her of his love for her. was practically forced to do the court mg. "It was In 1867." continued the greatest bandmaster of his time, the late Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore, “that Eupbrosyne Parepa. who had quite as fine a repu'ation between 1860 and 1S7( as any grand opera singer, and Carl Rosa, who was regarded as one of the great violin players of Europe, made a tour of the United States, where Parepa had come two years be t fore. I saw them in concert in Boston and it did not take me long to become aware of the fact that Parepa was cast ing decidedly itindly glances toward the young violinist who shared the up plans*- of the audience with her. lie One Sentence Not Answered .... •» Tfc r* (Wees i Eiplpiitltn of Hi* f£* Net Oncting Oanie' •' £St«f'i Stckx Favoring :*» -Iftii kutfi Sank . ' du iti *?’ the year* that I s' •< a,', of iV Albany Journal | » 'A'rWit-r was alive—and * eal to every Ameri can citizen except the few who pos sess great riches, and until some one so speaks as to show that to rechar t«r the bank will not make the rich richer and the iioor poorer. I shall ccr tainly not attempt in my paper, even by indirection, to take issue with An drew Jackson.' “Judge Spencer looked at me with a queer expression for a moment, and then, taking his hat. went from my oiflce without saying another word.' I 'Copyright. Bit. hv K. J. Edwards. All Rights Reserved.) fa CkryMothfiiim Land. Scaat J«yum sdvertiaemnats pos sen* a oeaKb of imagery no know ■ ti •kr •enter* advertiser A Tokii draper atau -UM (bat “Oaf gaabt an mt 'o caeurtnern' bo—a eltb lb tiadl of a atm from a rifle " A {farrr proclaims bis vinegar ti be -more biller than tbe gall of cb. most ciapobral of mother s-ln la*.1 And a biff b-aa<~b • koaae displays i paster i asm bed Sly not visit ou asts1 We ran satisfy every possl We east of yaor* Kvery one of on gtafustf is as complaisant an abiig fA as a father *bo seeks to dii po,r of n doaeriets dangblrr Yo •Id b* as edfoat ss a ray of sue shtoe < mb lag after a day of ceaseles ra*a " __ An Objection -SSm.~ said tbe flatet unassumm r.»- -| don't libs tbe idea a ’Inquired *r» Harm* Bar **m*s41 some of tbe smartest men 1 pad life are “ ooaidn't sta»d aay <*»*«* ‘ 1 Courtship Like Jenny Lind’s - * was indeed, a master of the violin. “Before he went on the stage, Pare pa. who had the blackest, merriest eyes I ever saw, would approach Rosa, whose hair was fair, whose complexion was pink, and whose eyes were the bluest 1 ever saw, and ask him in Ger man how the weather affected his vio lin She would do it charmingly, her eyes dancing, her olive tinted cheeks suffused with a delicate blush. Then, after Rosa had finished playing and had sought the wings she would ap proach him and say fascinatingly what in English amounted to this: 'Ah. my little violinist, you brought the music of the heavens out of your instru ment!' The boy—he was then only in his twenties, while Parepa was in the thirties—would blush like a school girl at the compliment, ahd look with sly. furtive glance Rt Parepa while he stammered his thanks for the compli ment. “When Parepa's turn came to ap pear upon the stage she would flash the merriest of glances at the timid violinist and say to him that she wanted him to listen to her singing because, if she knew that he was lis tening, then she would be sure to sing her best. And again the violinist would blush furiously and look fur | lively at the great singer, and his ; long, drooping blonde mustache would tremble In his agitation. I “As soon as she had finished her song j'Parepa would seek out Rosa in the wTHfes and say softly, 'Well—?' and ; then wait for the compliment which i she had invited. And the embarrassed hoy. blushing red. would say stammer i ingly to her: 'You will see bow you inspired me when I play my next se lection.' “Oh. it was a beautiful case of visible courtship and Parepa made love not coquettishly. but charmingly. And she j iiad to. The fact was that Carl Rosa | was so modest and so complete a devo : tee of Parepa and admirer of her ar I tistic work that he was afraid to assert ; himself as her lover. Like Jenny Lind I with Otto Goldschmidt, she had to do • all the courting; she knew that Carl Rosa’s timidity was all that stood in the way of his becoming a most de voted and impassioned lover. At last she hinted,to him that her hand and heart were his for the asking, and the next day, 1 have been told, Carl Rosa played superbly and Parepa sang as 1 never before. “They were married shortly after In 1 New Y'ork. Then they reorganized the Parepa-Rosa English opera company out of which, after the death of Parepa in 1874, grew the Carl Rosa English opera company, the most successful I and the longest lived of all the com ! pantes organized to give opera in Eng ; Hsh.” j (Copyright, 1911, by E. J. Edwards. All Rights Reserved.) — Some Few Change*. "Well, well!" said the man who had wandered back to the old village. “So the Eagle House is still the Eagle House. No change after twenty years." "There have been a few changes,” responded the oldest inhabitant. ''Since you've been gone the hotel has been respectively the Grant Central, the Grand I'nlon, the Grand Junction, the Great Northern, the Great South ern. the imperial, the Regal, the Em pire. the Regent and the Mansion House. She’s just starting around the circuit tor the second time.” Primitive Ideas of Hygiene i I ► Hindu ambassadors once sent to England by a native prince were re » garded as so polluted that on their ! return to India nothing hut being ' born again would purify them, and i they were accordingly dragged r j through a gold image of the sacred - Yon! A writer describes a curious rus 1 I tom of the Baretse in South Africa. j A few days after the death of a man ' the doctor comes and makes an in cision on the forehead of each pf the 1 survivors of his relatives and fills it with medicine to ward off the conta ; gion and the effect of the sorcery that , | caused his death. ] Leland calls attention to a custom of taking medicines on the threshold „ in ancient Tuscany, the idea being that the threshold was the border line , between the outer world where evil 1 spirits freely roam, i If a person dies within an Eskimo hut everything in the hut must be de stroyed or thrown away as well aa everything which had come into con tact with the deceased —Dietetic and Hygienic Gazette. Unusual Case. Two summer gtrls, sitting down by the silver sea. were talking. "Whatever can be the matter with Claire?" said one. "She mopes about as though she bad lost her only rrlend 1 on earth.” ”0. you know,” responded the other very earnestly. “She Is engaged and takes it seriously."—Judge. Instituting a Reform. | Prospective Renter—I don’t object to your terms, but how about the steam heat? Agent (of .apartment building)—It will be more than satisfactory, I tbink. Our janitor is a man from the torrid zone, who never has spent a winter in the north. Trio of Wool . ■■ Photographed by Underwood & Underwood. N. T. Wool will be very much in evidence in stylish out-door raiment this year. Here is an attractive coat, made of frieze or soft Vienna, with ice wool knitted scarf and rough wool hat. trimmed with flowers made of woolen yarn. This represents real warmth, and is thoroughly appropriate for all out-door recreation. LINEN COSTUME. Putty-colored linen is used for the smart costume we illustrate here. The skirt has a panel front and back, and at sides is trimmed with two shaped straps with a button in each poiut. The coat fastens below bust with one pointed strap; the large turn-over collar is strapped on the outer edge with black and putty-col ored striped linen. Hat of putty-colored straw, trimmed with a black feather mount. Materials required for the dress: Five yards forty-two Inches wide, fourteen buttons, one-eighth yard stripe twenty-seven inches wide. Chic Kerchieft. Very small handkerchiefs of color ed silk with a hemstitched border are sold to wear In the breast pocket of one’s rough morning coat. The color scheme of the costume can be car ried out by this small touch in a most effective tnanuer, and the idea has been taken up by the Americans who are now in Paris. Style in Shoes. Among the popular low shoes for dressy wear at present is the Direc toire slipper. It comes in patent leather, dull kid and black satin, and Is ornamented with a square or oval gold or kid buckle on the instep. Low shoes promise to be tar more elaborate this year than for some time past, as the narrow skirts and Blashed hems have brought them into more prominent view. Bronze slip pers with fancy insets of gold on the toe, trimmed with bronze beads, are In good style, aq are the Directoire and beaded slippers of black satin with short vamps.—Harper's Bazar. In the Dining Room. Plates should be heated before they are sent to the table. An entire meal, prepared with great care, can be spoiled by the use of cold plates. Do not reach across another person’s plate. If something beyond your cov er is desired, ask the servant or the person nearest to pass It. When a second portion is being served place the knife and fork to the right of the plate with the ends rest ing on the butter plate. STORY OF JAPANESE GOWNS Interesting Facts Concerning the Origin of Garments Worn in the island Empire. Nearly every woman nowadays cherishes a Japanese gown lor bouse wear without realizing how interest ing a garment it is. The sleeves them selves have a curious history. From the middle of the sixteenth century they began to increase in length, and. especially those for young ladies, have extended till now they are from three to four feet. This style, known as furisode. became very fashionable. The width of the obi, or sash, das ] also varied, at first front two and a half to three and a half inches, and to six. seven, eight and nine inches. It is interesting to note that our . own new fashions in sleeves and : sashes originated among the common people of Japan, and from them were finally adopted by the upper classes, i The young ladles of the Satnuri class were the first to follow the popular styles in this respect, and the higher classes began to follow suit, until now these fashions prevail everywhere. It is only from about the middle of i the seventh century that the women ' of the lower classes began to wear the long haori, or overcoat, at present j so common among all classes of both sexes. This garment w as originally a duster worn b.v men to protect their clothes when outdoors, and was then called dofuku, or traveling coat. Finally they came to be worn in doors, and the women adopted the garment. The upper classes in time followed the same custom, and now ! the haori is an indispensable part of the clothing to be worn on formal oc casions. even in summer. NEWEST IDEAS IN GIRDLES Many Materials for Choice and Design Is Altogether a Matter for the Individual. The newest girdles are nwde ot rope, bead, metal, fabric and chenille. The latter are particularly well liked, ! as are also those made of pierced metal pieces run with ribbon and ob tainable in assorted colors. There are also those made of colored pyroxy lin, ribbon laced. These pyroxylin girdles, while extremely light In weight, have an effect similar to the heavier metal ones Another of this class of girdle fc? the heavy linked chain or metal rope, made In either gilt, silver or oxidized. Due to the great popularity of cord girdles, there have been manufactured special ornamental pins in plain and chased effects, also set with colored stones, intended for use as a fastening for the girdles in place of a knot, be ing both practical and ornamental, and at the same time eliminating the knot tying wear on tne girdle. Newest in Suits. There Is a tendency to get away from the large collar which has been in vogue for a year or more, says the Dry Goods economist. Many of the suits will be made with small collars and fancy revers. in round, square or pointed shape, which start from the shoulder and are entirely separate from the collar. A few are made col larless. but have the trimming inset to give the effect of a collar. While the tendency during the late fall has been to favor coats buttoned at the shoulder, this is not considered a good spring idea and low openings are ex pected to be in vogue. Latest Sweater. The latest thing in sweaters are first cousins to the fuzxy wuxxy tam-o’ shanters that abounded some five years back. They look like goats and camels. Tor “they are wild and they are woolly.” with a sheen and a long beard nap. all combed out smooth and shiny—until one buys them, then they will probably gather up in lumps, but they will continue to be just as warm and comfortable and much soft er than the regular worsted ones. A Vagabond Dreamer * * * By DOROTHY DOUGLAS Il II ll—M^— (Copyright, 1911, by Associated Literary Press.) "You are trespassing on my prop- j erty!” came a voice from the moon- | light Blair scrutinized the clump of \ bushes. He had supposed the white j thing flitting about there to be a slim beam from the moon. "But the gardeners never come down here and uncle is away, so it is all rignt” The voice was nearer to Blair than before. He shaded his eyes and looked more closely. A low ripple of laughter ac companied his search. "Here I am.” She had parted the bushes and still Blair felt that a wedge of moonbeam had squeezed down through the trees. He stared at her with his hand shading his eyes. "1 can’t see whether or not I like j your eyes,” she said half petulantly. Blair obediently dropped his hand and turned toward the light that came from the small door of his cara van. The dreamer's look was in his eyes and the dreamer's whimsical smile on his lips. Molly looked at him with grave eyes for a moment. "What are you doing here?" she asked, edging nearer to him. "Looking for fairies—like you.” he j said in the tone of cne speaking to a child. "1 am eighteen.” She resented his ! tone. "And then what do you do?” “I weave them into fairy tales.” “I suppose that you mean you are a j writer and that your name is in all the big magazines?" "About that," be smiled. "Couldn't I just have one peep into your caravan?” she asked. "It looks ! so cozy.” “It is cozy.” He was amused at her quaint curiosity. “I will have to lift you up on the step.” "Isn't it darling!” She turned toward him. ”1 didn't know gypsies had such exquisite—” “But I am not a gypsyy.” put in Blair, and in the darkness a strange bitterness crept into his eyes. "If I were I would shut that door with you inside and lash up my ponies!” "Oh, wouldn't that be lovely!” She clapped her bands joyously. “But poor uncle would never get over It” "He has managed to survive other losses.” Again that pained bitter ness swept into the vagabond's eyes "You know he is not really my uncle.” She had not noticed his re 4 \ * u I \ gg Blair Watched Her Go. mark. "1 have lived here only five years. I'm adopted and Uncle Gray is going to give me all his money,” she confided naively. "So ] understand.” Blair said. "You have heard of me?" Molly's eyes opened wide. "I have heard of the protege of John Gray—yes. But I had not known she was so—grown up,” he finished lamely. "Well—beautiful then.” He looked deep into his eyes. She returned the look wonderingly. “Oh, oh—I feel such a funny little thrill inside—here!" She clasped both hands over her breast; and stood gaz ing at him. Blair turned swiftly away from the innocent awakening in her eyes. “Perhaps you had better comedown from my caravan.” His own voice was a trifle husky. “Or I will be tempted to become a gypsy and run off with yon.” “But 1 don't want to come down. 1 feel diappy — 1 want to sing—and dance—and—” She broke off ab ruptly and that wondering look swept Blair’s own. Blair was silent for a moment while he struggled against the tu mult in his heart. This witch had breathed on hidden chords; he felt strangely unaccountable for his ac tions, his words. "You are tired,” he said finally, "and little girls should be in bed at this time of night Come!” But Molly Ashwell stood still and looked down at the arms extended to lift her from the step, then her eyes traveled up to the face on which the light shone full. "Do you know,” she stated, "that you look very much like Uncle Gray?" Blair turned swiftly from the glare of the lamp. ‘•Come!" he said, and his voice held a note of command. With a little hurt look in her eyes Molly put out her hands For a breathing spell the universe seemed hung in midair. Molly tore herself free then and fled in the darkness. Blair watched her go, a moonbeam darting from path to path and finally into the old rose garden and up the great stone steps between the guard ing lions and out of his sight through the French windows. For a long moment he sat staring at the windows through which she had gone. Finally he arose, unteth ered bis horses, hitched them to the caravan and drove off into the night. “She is too wonderful,” his lips re peated. “I could not withstand her long." Three years came and went before Molly Ashwell and the Vagabond Dreamer met, three years in which her eyes had worn a pecular, brood ing look—a look which John Gray had tried in vain to fathom or to lighten. "You are not so happy looking yourself," she had chided him on one occasion. He had grown a shade paler. "I have cause—a terrible cause for being miserable—but ] deserve it," was all he bad said. She glanced quickly at him now as they sat in the theater. The curtain went up on a new play. The scene was an interior. "It is almost exactly tike our draw ing room!" exclaimed Molly breath lessly and waited for confirmation of her words. John Gray neither answered nor seemed conscious of her presence. As the play progressed Molly felt the peculiar tension that held John Gray. After a spasmodic clutch of the hands on the chair arms he re mained as one turned to stone. The play was the old, old story of the son who had frequented the stage doors and had been turned away from borne by an irate parent. In this case the son had lived in the theatrical atmosphere merely as a stepping stone. He had run away from home to go on the stage that he might gain intimate knowledge of stagecraft. The strong plot woven in this fabric was neither here nor there except that at the close of the last act the author was called forth. He came from the wings. "My son!" John Gray sprang to his feet and held out a pair of shaking arms to ward the man on the stage. “My Vagabond Dreamer!" came a girl's voice through the hush that followed the meeting of father and SOD. Regardless of the excited audience, the two meo met and the older man clasped the other in his arms as if be was still a very small boy. Finally the quiet tones of the vaga-. bond went out to answer tbat un asked question. "My father and 1 have been long estranged—I am too happy to say more, except that I thank you lor re ceiving my play so kindly." During the thunder of applause that followed a slim little figure slipped quickly out of the theater and into the great limousine that crept up to the curb at ber call. Her heart was heating painfully 'r» dull, miserable beats. “Nobody loves me." she wept softly into the kindly cushions. She sat huddled and broken, neither seeing nor hearing the excited crowd that came forth from the theater. It seemed ages before the two men. arm In arm appeared. Molly dried ber eyes hastily and peered out as they approached. The younger man glanced at the car. Then Molly saw bis hand go up to shade his eyes. He made a quick movement. She was very near him and the limousine had turned into a darkened street when next she beard his voice. “Mine! All mine," he whispered against her lips. “Can we go in the caravan?" Motiy asked by way of answer to his ques tion of a moment later. MISTOOK BEAR FOR FUR COAT Member of the Association of Automo bile Manufacturers Tells Story About Motor Wearing Apparel. “The cold weather is coming on, and we shall soon see some very remark able cold-weather motoring 80118.“ The speaker, Coker F. Clarkson of the Association of Automobile Manu facturers, sat in his New York office. He resumed: “I’ll be glad when cold-weather mo toring clothes are made more sightly. They give us such a shaggy look now, don’t they? Did you ever hear about the performing bear? “Well, a country hotel, a good deal frequented by motorists, took in a showman and his performing bear, and one morning the bear escaped from the stable. “Everybody fled before the animal. The hotel man, however, pursued it courageously. It entered the hotel, mounted the stairway, pushed open a bedroom door, and vanished. “Then the hotel man, close behind. t heard from the bedroom an angry ex clamation in a feminine voice, and the word*: "George, dear, how often have I for bidden you to come into my room without knocking—and in your auto mobile coat, too!’" The Delight In Adornment. Both Miriam and Molly belonged to the new age, and were in revolt against the treadmill of recognized order Miriam knew It and Molly suspected it Nevertheless., they took a savage delight in personal adornment From their feet to the necks women are fairly civilised, and still progress, though with awful setbacks; but on their heads savagery still sits tri umphantly. Through maternity and the milliner they keep secure hold on primitive nature. When they emerged at last Into the light of day Miriam sighed, like a cannibal reformed by force, who hears of a feast he hankers for in his heart.—Morley Roberts in “Thorpe’s Way." k