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THE WATERTOWN RE-UNION. KURD3 ON THE PLAIN OF TROY ANNON awakening the echoes over Ilium's plains, where the allies have been trying to pound their -way beyond the Dardanelles, stir many legen- dary memories of this historic battle region and bring to mind the oddest contrasts. Here, where now mod- ern, ordnance is hurling its messen- gers of destruction, Homer's heroes waged their spectacular, single-handed combats, while admiring armies grouped themselves around to watch. Jt is a far cry from the romantic siege of Troy to the terribly impersonal bat- tle of today. Yet the old walls of Troy must bring some sort of inspira- tion to the soldiers fighting in their shadows, soldiers of the allies or oil the Turks. Excavated Ilium, near one of the present war's great bat- tlefields, is described in a communi- cation to the National Geographic so- ciety by Jacob B. Conner; The Trojan walls are still in evi- dence; those name walls that defied the onslaught of Agamemnon and Menelaus, of Ajax, Nestor, Diomed, \Ulysses and Achilles, to fall at last by stratagem. They remain as a ruined and abandoned stage minus Its paraphernalia, whereon was played so many centuries ago an insignificant little drama compared with modern events, but it was a drama so big with human interest divinely told that the world has never known its equal. Wars' in these crowded times are for gain, but in the youth of the world, If we take the Iliad literally, men could afford to fight for an ideal. Hence the Homeric warfare was a beautiful, a poetic pastime, seriously resulting \o some happy few, who were thenceforth, rewarded with im- mortality in song. Troy Well Worth a Visit. As the theater of the world's great- est epic poem, Troy deserves a visit any year, every year. In the thoughts and emotions it revives and stimulates in the aroused sense o£ indebtedness of all subsequent literature and art it richly repays a visit. The classical student will leave it in a daze of meditation upon things more real to him than the actual things he has seen and touched. On the site where the German sa- vant, Schliemann, unearthed Homer's Troy, nine layers of old-time cities were found, one above the other. They were builded, destroyed, and •forgotten here during the more than 5,000 years that civilization has lived upon the produots of the fertile valley. The topmost layer contained the remains of the Roman city o£ Ilium; two Hellenic villages were found directly beneath it, which flour- ished here between 1000 B. C. and the Christian era. The sixth city from the bottom was identified as Homer's Troy. The bottom layers contained the remains of prehistoric settlements, •unimportant villages that have es- caped every memory except these few, -uncovered, decaying stones. In the second, or burnt city, probably 800 years before the time of Troy, was found a considerable mass of buried treasure, silver Jars, gold daggers, and .wonderfully wrought diadems of gold. •^Describing the country around Troy, !MT. Conner continues: Yonder is the summit of Mt. Ida, where the gods i n solemn conclave so pften sat, where \cloud-compelled Zeus\ sometimes \thought two ways in his mind at once,\ or else ended all debate with a nod that shook high Olympus and caused the heavens to Reverberate and glow with the flash pf his thunderbolt. Famous Rivers Only Creeks. • Away over yonder, skirting the ridge pf Ilium, is Simois' stream, or should be; hut the bridge across it shows upon our approach that modern Simois is no more than a creek. Worse than that; following its attenuated course, less than a mile, downstream, we dis- cover that it ends in a morass instead of the Scamander as of yore. And the latter stream is scarcely less dis- appointing, for it is no more dignified in size or appearance. In fact, their sluggish currents united can scarcely fojast of banks except at occasional intervals, for both streams are now taly broad swaj.es merging with the adjacent plain, with no continuous cur- rent toward the sea except in seasons of high water, if such are ever known. And such beautiful plains! They were well worth fighting for, gently undulating as they retreat from -the former river courses, and nlost home- like, cultivable places for peaceful abode. Little rounded oak trees are studded about the plain in solitary, in- dependent fashion—oak trees resem- bling apple trees in size and peri- phery. Behold the ruins at last! A long r low ridge, some four or five miles in length, ends abruptly like a promon- tory projecting into the sea, above which it rises about 30 feet. The ridge is the so-called \Hill of Ilium,\ the sea is the flood plain of the Simois and the Scamander, historically known as the plain of Troy, and the promon- tory, with its crown of ruins, is Troy itself. You walk around the ruins and make the surprising discovery that if the walking were good you could easily do it in ten minutes. Astonishing! Is this all there was of Troy, and did this little stronghold withstand a nine years' siege and still remain unconquered by force? Im- possible ! . The whole hill of Ilium may have been fortified and to some ex- tent populated; otherwise how was the garrison provisioned? TJnpoetic details like these never troubled Ho- mer, so why bother about them? Within sight, almost, of Tenedos, the island base of the attacking allied armies, and within sound and reach of the big guns, the old ruins are watching over the present fighting, a greeting from the days of the first great western siege to the greatest siege of modern times. Sounds of Desolation. You proceed a little farther in Ar- ras to a large circular place, once im- posing. Every house in it presents the same blighted aspect. There is no urban stir! but in the brief intervals of the deafening cannonade can be heard one sound—blinds and curtains fluttering against empty window frames, and perhaps the idle, faint banging of a loose Bhutter. Not even a cat walks. We are alone—we and the small group of staff officers who are acting as our hosts. We feel like thieves—like desecrators, impiously prying . . . Continually came the hollow sound of things falling and slipping within the smashed interiors behind the fa- cades. And then earns the Bound of a baby crying—for this city is not, after all, uninhabited. We saw a woman coming out of her house and carefully locking the door behind her. WaB she locking it against shells or against burglars?—Arnold Bennett in Satur- day Evening Post, ADD SALAD DISHES TO MENU A Large Order. \He shared his umbrella with hei on a rainy day and now they are mar- ried.\ \That's the way it goes,\ replied the cynic. \I have no doubt he started out merely with the idea of keeping her dry for a few minutes and now he'll probably have to keep a roof over her head for the rest of his life.\ When Death Supervenes. Indicating that the old and the young are most subject to the call of death, the Springfield (111.) survey of the Russell Sage Foundation shows that in 1910 in that city 140 infants died to each 1,000 infants less than one year old, 67 died to each 1,000 more than sixty-five years old and only seven died to each 1.000 from twenty-five to forty-four years of age. Glad Tidings. \It must have been a glorious mo- ment for Isaac Newton when the ap- ple hit him on the head as he sat under the tree.\ \Yes replied Farmer Corntossel. \He not Only discovered the law of gravitation, but he found convincing evidence that the fruit crop for that year was not a failure.\ People Today Eat Too 'Much Cooked Food That Is Frequently Lacking - In Nutritive Qualities. It has long been a joke how cats and dogs, when out of sorts, fly to grass or some kind of green food for relief. The aninal knows by in- stinct what only a. few human beings are beginning to learn from expe? rience—namely, that nature has pro- vided vegetables of the leaf order, rich in mineral salts. These salts pos- sess a double power—they not only combine with the acids and poisons in the body, rendering them power- less, but they also drive them out of the system altogether. It is not too much to say that no great mental, moral or physical prog- ress can be made without an ample supply of'this. vegetable food. Salad is the one ingredient of our regular diet which we cannot afford to do without. Some people say salad is cold and indigestible, but cabbage, if eaten raw, needs only two and a half hours for digestion, as against five hours when boiled! The boiling of green foods destrdys the original organic combina- tion of the mineral salts. The blood of a healthy person should be alkaline—that is, the op- posite of acid—and it is the alkaline salts in vegetables which bring about this healthy condition. Many thousands o£ men and women of all ages suffer from anemia, from having lived almost entirely on cooked food. To thpse long accustomed to high- ly flavored food, salads will at flrst seem tasteless, but a liking for them comes with use. Salad should be very carefully washed in several phanges of clean water. This is essential. During washing the leaves should be well picked over and inspected. Leaves should be torn, not cut. When done, they can be allowed to soak for an hour, or overnight, but not longer in cold water, to which a little lomon juice has been added to Increase the crispness of the leaves. The Japanese use the petals of many Bowers for salads. Chrysanthemums, stocks, violets, roses, nasturtiums and dandelions are especially good, as they possess strong antitoxic powers. PARSNIP NOT GIVEN ITS DUE With Proper Preparation the Vegeta- ble Should Be One of the Great- est Table Favorites. Do you like parsnips? If you don't, why don't you? If they cost as much as French artichokes—which have far less flavor—wouldn't you like them? Perhaps the reason they have never appealed to you is because they are so common that they are fed to the cat- tle. Often our likes and dislikes for food are based on such reasoning. Of course, parsnips must be careful- ly cooked to be really worth the eat- ing. Baked parsnips have a delicious flavor. To prepare them, wash them and pare them and steam' them until tender. Then slice them lengthwise and put them in a baking dish, with butter and pepper and salt sprinkled over them. Bake them until brown in a moderate oven. Parsnip salad is made of parsnips that have been steamed until tender, sliced crosswise, dredged in flour and fried brown in butter. Chill them and put them on lettuce leaves and add a teaspoonful of chopped ham and one o£ hard-boiled egg chopped fine to each plate. Sprinkle a little chopped parsley over them and serve with mayonnaise. Parsnip fritters are made from mashed boiled parsnips. To a pint o£ it add a teaspoonful of flour, a well- beaten egg and salt and pepper. Make into flat cakes and fry brown. Scalloped parsnips: Mix two cup- fuls of cold, mashed parsnips with two tablespoonfuls of butter and cream enough to make smooth. Put in a pudding dish, sprinkle with buttered bread crumbs and bake until brown. Afternoon Dress for the Little Girl •uw»e«s»l New Zealand has only one town with a population of more than 10O„- 000. White Bread. Into your bread mixer put one cup- ful of flour, one tablespoonful of salt, three tablespoonfuls of sugar and a heaping tablespoonM of lard. Then pour in one pint of boiling water; Btir until smooth and allow to cool. Add one quart o£ luke-warm water and one-half a yeast cake dissolved in one cupful of luke-warm water. Then add flour enough to make a firm dough; knead until smooth. In the morning mold into loaves and al- low to raise. Bake for one hour This recipe makes three loaves. Italian Moid. Cook two tablespoonfuls of rice un- til tender in a pint of milk in a double saucepan, with the very thin rind of a lemon. Sweeten to taste, add three sheets of leaf gelatin and the yolks of three eggs. Let cook ut a double saucepan a few minutes longer to cook the yolks; add the whites, stifily beat- en and two tablespoonfuls o£ cream. Pour into a wetted mould and turn out when stiff and set. Peach Bombe. Scald a quart of milk, add a heaping teaspoonful o£ cornstarch mixed with four tablespoonfuls of sugar. Cook until the mixture coats the spoon. Mix a pint of whipped cream and one pint of raw peach pulp to the scalded milk. Freeze to a mush, turn to a two-quart bowl, mold and pack in ice and salt for two hours, A design in a dress and coatee for a little girl, which may be successful- ly made up in any sort o£ material is shown here. As pictured the dress is of Irish poplin with a border of ottoman silk in a wide bias band about the bottom of the skirt, and a jacket of the same silk as the band. But the model Is just as well adapted to many of the new cotton fabrics. It might be developed In cotton gaber- dine for the dress, and ootton cordu- roy for the jacket, in any of the light, staple colors that these new fabrics are made in. As shown in the picture the skirt is set on to a belt of the poplin which is also the belt o£ the plain bodice. The bodice has a small yoke, opening at the neck in a shallow \V\ and fin- ished with little, buttonholed scallops. The coat is cut with long shoulders and short sleeves and is lined with the poplin. This is used also for the turnback cuffs and collar and appears in a piping about the edges o£ the l.t- tle garment. Small pink frogs form the single fastening. A girdle is worn with the dress. Among other pretty models for the little miss are full skirts o£ plaid ma- terial confined at the waist with sev- eral rows of shirring and set onto a plain belt of the plaid. Wide suspen- ders made also of the plaid material are set onto the belt. Such skirts are finished with a plain, three-inch hem and are only moderately wide. They are worn over thin blouses made o£ batiste or organdie or other sheer ma- terial. Short top coats or jackets of plain woolen goods, matching the dom- inant color in the plaid skirt, are worn with them. Together they make a smart looking outfit for the little girl. tP\ Showing the Direction of the Millinery Wind For Egg-Stained Silver. Egg stains can be removed from sil- ver by applying dry salt tyith a soft -iloth. Here are two pretty dross hats which show which way the millinery wind blows. As to trimming it points to simplicity, but as to shape it con- tinues to blow \every which way.\ In materials hatters' plush, velours and combinations o£ velvet with other ma- terials are in steady demand and such combinations appear in these two hats. At the top the picturesque shape is of velvet and plush, the velvet appear- ing on the upper brim and in a wide flange against the plush facing. The top crown is of velvet. A wide, hand- some faille ribbon is laid in folds about the side crown and the ends are Joined at the right of the front. Here an odd feather ornament is posed at an equally odd angle. Sprays of fine feathers, which look like frost-covered twigs, spring from a big i aboehon of feathers and dance in every breeze that blows. At the left a ball and tas- sel of Silk, faBtraed against the crown, give this model more than the usual allowance of ornament. The brim In this shape is very ir- regular and the crown is eccentric in Jfoape bat both are made on good and becoming lines. Such shapes are not universally becoming, but when they dd suit the face, they seem made es- pecially for the wearers. Below is a French sailor with the brim widened at the left front, which is an indication of the privilege ac- corded to brim by the mode. They do all sorts o£ unexpected things. The brim is of hatters' plush faced with velvet ind has a narrow velvet bind- ing. The top crowtt is soft and of velvet. This hat, becoming to almost every face, has a band of the new, brilliant fiittor-jet about the side crown. The sequins are small and set very thick, overlapping one another in a mass of brilliant scales. Two long 'feelers' - spring from a small oblong body of the fiitter-jet, the little sequins or spangles extending a little way on each one. Two of the odd, stiff orna- ments are set at the back—one on each side of it. The hat would be prnr tier without these, and measured bs the season's standards would be amplj trimmed, JULIA BOTTOMLE*,* By JANE OSBORN. (Copyright, 1915, by the McClure Newspa- per Syndicate.) For the flrst minute Constance lay trembling, in such a state of alarm and terror that she was quite incapa- ble o£ moving. What had wakened her she did not know, and save for the far-off trickle o£ the little stream behind the house all was quiet. Presently she heard the sound of footsteps. Someone was walking on the side veranda. And to have someone walking about at that time of night was a serious matter, for Constance Preston was the only per- son in the house except her tempera- mentally helpless mother, an aged grandmother and a new cook. The boys were away. Billy was with his regiment and Alan was detained in town on business. With an extraordinary burst, of courage and the sense of her own importance, Constance dashed into her mother's, room and found her awake and trembling. \Call your grandmother!\ she cried, pulling the blankets from the bed and wrapping them frantically about her. \Hush!\ whispered Constance, try- ing to steady her own trembling voice. \Be quiet or they will hear you.\ The sound of footsteps was again distinct, and then a long, low, terrifying whistle. \Heavens!\ whispered Mrs. Pres- ton. \If one of the boys were only home!\ \Perhaps I could wake the cook; she is so big and strong—\ \But you never could rouse her. But, Constance, you must get your grandmother; her room is right over that side porch.\ Constance groped her way to the door and opened it stealthily. The low flickering light in the hall cast long, waving shadows on the floor and walls. Almost petrified with fear, she dashed across to her grandmother's room. Grandmother Preston, fortu- nately, was a very diminutive sort o£ old lady. So Constance, wasting no words on explanation, lifted hor up, bundled her into her slippers and dressing gown, and led her, dazed but docile, back to .Mrs. Preston's room. \Oh if Alan were only here,\ thought ConBtance, throwing on what clothes of Mrs. Preston's she could find by the low light of the night candle. > Grandmother Preston, who hadn't heard a sound, was sitting huddled in a chair, her feet drawn under her and her head covered with a blanket, She was peering anxiously around. \Hadn't you better cover your heads?\ she asked slowly. \If they once got in it's hard to get them out.\ \What?\ asked Constance aloud frantically hooking herself into an eve- ning gown of her mother's. \Do you think it came in by the chimney?\ Grandmother Preston went on in her gentle old voice. \Oh it isn't a bat, grandmother; it's a burglar!\ Constance shrloked. But without her ear trumpet the old lady could hear nothing. Just then there was a heavy stamp- ing of feet below. Mrs. Preston clung to her daughter for protection. \I'd give almost anything for a man,\ Con- Btance whispered. \Let's telephone for one,\ suggested Mrs. Preston. \The burglar might shoot him,\ ob- jected her daughter. \But you could call up the police.\ Then with desperate resignation, Constance swept half way down the stairs to the telephone. There, with Mrs. Preston's nerve-racking whis- pers from above and the possibility of an attack from the burglars from be- low, she gave the message. \Central she said, holding the re- ceiver with trembling hands. \The police station—tell them to send up someone to the Preston place—at once.\ Without waiting for a reply, she sped back to the haven of Mrs. Pres- ton's room, where, speechless, they sat waiting, the monotony of their anxiety broken only by the occasion- al sound of footsteps below. Then, afer what seemed hours, came the pounding of the old brass knocker, ringing strong and clear. Without a moment's hesitation, Con- stance ran downstairs, and, as she passed the hatrack, she seized an old raincoat o£ her brother's and bundled it around her to hide the rather elaborate array of Mrs, Preston's evening gown. With trembling hands, she opened the £ront door, and there before her, anxious and prayerful eyes stood— Bruce Morrison himself. \Well of all tho confounded dough- heads,\ was what he started to say when he caught sight of Alan's old coat. \Bruce Morrison!\ Constance gasped, overcome with joy at seeing a pro- tector. \I always knew you were an angel. I've waited so long, and now you've come.\ The suddenness of what Bruce took to be a complete surrender rather took his breath away. \I knew I'd win out some time,\ he said, as he led Constance to tho liv- ing room and settled her in the old sleepy hollow chair. \Honest Constance,\ he asked, sit- ting down on the floor at her £eet, \do you really think you are going to love me a little bit after all?\ \Why yes, I suppose so,\ said Con- stance rather sharply; \but why don't we look for the burglar? He's been trying to get in for over an hour. Maybe he's In now. Oh, I'm so .jlad you came.\ \Well I'm blesBed!\ was all Bruce dared to say.' It dawned on them both all at once what had really been going on. \But why did you keep up that ghastly whistle? It was enough to drive one wild.\ \And why don't you have a civilized doorbell?\ he retorted, \instead of that beastly old knocker? I'd been feeling around for a bell for an hour or so.\ \Why that old brass knocker is so picturesque, Bruce. But why don't you tell me about that whistle?\ \Oh that's an old college whistle of ours. I thought Alan was home, and he'd recognize it and know I'd arrived. I didn't try that dodge until I had given up every other known means of waking you. Alan expected I'd come out some night this week. I told him I was going to make one last dying entreaty before I sailed for the South Sea isles or the Fijis or the North pole, or—\ \Oh but you're not going away ever, are you, Bruce?\ Constance begged. \Plo&se don't leave us alone—\ \Constance! Constance!\ came fee- bly from upstairs. \Have they caught him?\ Constance hurried to the stairs. \Yes mother,\ she called. \It's all right. It's Bruce.\ \But haven't the policemen come vet?\ asked Mrs. Preston. \I say, Constance!\ interrupted Bruce, who was peering anxiously out one of the side windows. \What the mischief is that policeman doing pry- ing around the house at this hour of the night?\ he asked. \I suppose he came because we sent for him when we thought someone was trying to break in,\ she said. \Oh I'm so glad you're here, because you can explain.\ Just then the old knocker sounded again. \Patch it up any way,\ Con- stance whispered, \only don't tell him who you are. This is such a gossipy place.\ Then she vanished behind the portieres and listened. \Say this is a nice trick, this is.\ It was Bruce talking. \You fellows had better get out on your job. Do you think a burglar is going to sit down under a tree and wait for you?\ \But there wasn't anyone at the statlonhouse to sand when the lady phoned, and—and—\ \Well I'm not finding fault with you personally, captain,\ said Bruce, \but it was a, mighty slim way to treat a couple of unprotected ladies. Say, you don't mean to Bay that they sent you up here alone! Well, that is a fine way to do business. A lot of good one man could have done with a tough like that.\ \Then you saw him?\ queried the policeman. \How could I? Just got here my- self and found my mother and my sistor in a dreadful state of excite- ment, But it's all right this time,\ said Bruce, handing him a five-dollar bill. \Here's the price of a cigar for you. You'll find it worth while not to report this case; d'ye understand? Say, you might tell tho boss some- time when you think of it, that he'll never catch many burglars sending out one man at a time.\ \Well explained the policeman, \we've had so many false alarms this summer, that whenover a lady calls us up in the night It's ten to one it's only a mouse. Ladles is very apt to be mistaken, I find.\ \You're right there, captain, but this time it was the real thing, and no doubt about it. Good night,\ he said, closing the door. \Good luck.\ JUDQED HIM BY HIS LOOKS Somewhat Humorous Incident in Rail- road Dining Car That Led to Matrimony. A young man, born in America, the son of French parents, went West as a civil engineer. His company com- pleted one o£ the railroads terminat- ing at the Pacific coast. This work had necessitated his living in the open for more than three years. His skin took on a deep copper shade. He did, indeed, present a picturesque figure as he boarded a train tor home, the Now York World states. In the diner he shared a table with two young French girls who were tour- ing tho United States with their pa- rents. Their parontB sat at a table opposite. To the young man's amazement, the girls immediately began to comment upon the \brown man,\ evidently an American, who sat opposite them. They laughingly took stock of every- thing from his fine eyes to his hurried table manners. Their parents, how- ever, did not seem quite so much at ease, now and again calling in French, \Have a care, have a care.\ After the close o£ the meal, after rising, the young man, in exquisite French, told the young women he was glad to havo afforded them so much amusement. They were dumfounded. Their father hurried after the young man and profusely apologized. In- troductions followed, and tho acquain- tance so propitiously started ended in a warm friendship. The engineer married the elder daughter and they now have two sons, Mercenary Motive. \What is his chie£ aim in life?\ \Ho wants to educate the masses.\ \A philanthropist, eh?\ \Not enough to notice. He wants to educate them to use a little house- hold necessity he's put on the market.\ All in the Family. Hoiny—Did I understand you to say Jones was related to you by marriage? Omar—Yea; he married a girl that once promised to be a sister to me.
