Newport daily independent., 1918-08-14
MIR. BUYER, IT'S UP TO YoU!

tn folks at home when we were on the road. Postal card holiday greet ings, postal birthday congratulations, postal cards that could be written quickly and mailed with ease when pleasure and business, magnet-like, speeded the use we made of our time. For the past three years postal cards have frequently told brief stories so direct in their wording that the full shock of their horror equalled or ex- celled those telegrams from the War Department which are bringing home to us the price we are paying for democracy.
 Imagine postal card telling that your son had lost his third finger, deliberatly cut from his hand that a Hun might become possessed of the ring he wore.
 Picture the postal that told you of the burning of the lunatic asylum at Obourg, Belgium, and of the fright ful death of the 200 insane women who were being cared for in that in- stitution.
 Read the postal that might truth fully tell of that French woman 80 years of age who was raped at La houssoye.
 Another mail and the postal that tells of the women and children at Mons who were forced to march on their own soldiers, acting as screen for the German troopers. Read that the fifty who refused to go on were bayonetted. You might receive fifty postals, each telling of similar acts which can be verified. Read and then calm yourself to the statistics that inform you that before the war we purchased souvenir postcards and Autographs from Germany to the amount of nearly two million dol lars annually.
 Do it again? Surely not while we are in our right minds. Sign our names to postal card made in that empire of rape? My God, no, and that we may never be tricked into unconscious violation of this just to- unconscious violation of this just re- solve. MT. Buyer, it's up to you.
 In little French village well within hearing of the incessant boom of the Kaiser's cannon, Isaac Mar cosson, that great American writer, applied for lodging, one night at the cottage of an old French woman. She greeted him courteously, but be- | fore she asked him to sit down took him to the side of her fireplace and pointed to the wall. Pinned to a lit tie French flag were three little met al tags with the identification num- bers of her three sons. Below each tag was pinned the French Croix de Guerre. As Marcosson stood at sa- lute, paying his silent tribute to the immotal dead, and to this brave la dy's supreme sacrifice, she took from the mantle French wrist watch. Her last boy had worn it until a Ger man grenade had ended his brave eff fort to stem the unprovoked invasion of the land he loved better than life. One of his comrades had taken that watch from his wrist, wound 1t up and sent it back to the old mother in the village back of the Marne. 1t was still running when put into her trembling hands. To her the ticking of that watch, said Marcosson, is the beating of that boys heart, and as it registers the passing of time it is also registering the passing of a cursed power that has been allowed for half a century to prepare colos- sally for the brutal domination of the world. Is this just another story to tug at your heartstrings? You be the judge. Before Germany and Austria turned loose thelr helnsh hordes. we imported annually from them over million dollars worth of clocks and watches.
 Millions of graves have bee'
 with brave young men who were alive, happy and ambitious three years ago. The wrist watches of many of these bows have come back with their little tin tags. There is no necessity for US to buy time-pieces from these peoples who have so ti- tanticallv and treacherouslv caused the death of the flower of this cen tury's man hood. There are plenty of good clocks and watches manufsc- tnred right here at home and in the days to come keep that in mind. MT. Ruver YOU are going into the front line trenches to protect us from such merchandise, in the name of that