ERNS OE1
WOLFPEN
*W
Harlan HaicKer_
ration/ OJp«in-My»r» ■»
t, tte Mt"ill O- ** W MV. StUVttt
SYNOPSIS
In 1785 Saul Pattern of Virginia
came Into the beautiful virgin coun
try of the Big Sandy valley In
Kentucky. Chief of the perils were
the Shawnees, who sought to hold
their lands from the ever-encroach
ing whites. From a huge pinnacle
Saul gazed upon the fat bottoms and
the endless acres of forest in its pri
meval quietude at the mouth of the
Wolfpen, and felt an eagerness to
possess it, declaring It a place fit
for a man to LIVE in! Five years
later he returned with Barton, his
tifteen-year-old son, and built a rude
cabin. In Saul's absence the In
dians attacked Barton and wounded
him so badly Saul was forced to re
turn with him to Virginia. In 1796,
when it was reasonably safe, Saul
returned with his family and a pat
ent for 4,000 acres, this time to
stay. He added to the cabin, planted
crops and fattened his stock on the
rich meadows. Soon after settlers
arrived. A century later, in the
spring of 1885, we find Cynthia Pat
tern, of the fifth generation follow
ing Saul, perched on the pinnacle
from which her great-great-grand
father had first viewed Wolfpen Bot
toms. The valleys, heretofore un
touched by the waves of change
sweeping the Republic, are at last
beginning to feel that restless surge.
Her dad, Sparrel, and her brothers,
Jesse, Jasper and Abral, convert the
old water - wheeled mill to steam
power. Cynthia feels that something
out of the past has been burled with
Saul. Cynthia is a pretty and imagina
tive miss in her late teens, who often
re-created Saul and her other fore
bears, and fancied them still living.
Sparrel proudly brings home the
first meal out of the steam mill, and
Julia, his wife, Is pleased. Genera
tion after generation has added com
forts and conveniences to Saul's
homestead, and Sparrel has not
shirked. The family goes easily into
the work of the new season, due to
the simplicity of life designed long
«4go on the Wolfpen. Joy Is abun
dant. Jesse plans to study law. A
Stranger, Shellenberger by name,
comes to Wolfpen, intent on buying
timber. Sparrel refuses his offer.
Shellenberger tells of progress in the
outside world. With the advent of
Shellenberger some intangible dis
turbing alteration seems to affect
tha atmosphere of Wolfpen. Spar
Tel decides to sell timber land to
Shellenberger. Jesse arranges to
study law with Tandy Morgan. Doug
Mason, a neighbor, in love with Cyn
thia, calls to secure medicine for his
sick mother. The feeling of disturb
ing suspense continues at Wolfpen.
CHAPTER VI—Continued
—9—
“You’re about the purtlest thing
I ever saw on a horse, Cynthia,’’
he said very simply.
“Why, Doug, you mustn’t say any
such a thing."
“I want to show you that ’seng
bed I told you about It’s just a
little step. You don’t even have to
get down. It’s right around the
bend."
She was moved by the eagerness
in his eyes and the pleading in his
voice. “Well, just a minute. I must
be getting back.”
She slid lightly from the saddle^
The mules had finished drinking.
Doug slapped one of them on the
rump, urging it out of the path.
Doug led Cynthia and the Finemare
up Buzzard to his ’seng bed.
“There it is," he said with pride.
It lay like a still pool at the ab
rupt head of the hollow, a flat
place at the feet of the steep hills
which closed in upon it in the
shape of a. horseshoe. A thread of
water dripped over a green rock
cliff from the upper reaches of the
gully. It trickled around the edge
of the 'seng patch into Buzzard
branch and ran on down the hollow
Into Gannon Creek. Hazel bushes,
laurel and spicewood shrubs were
thick around its edges. The odors
of muggy loam and rotting leaves
and of balsam and ground pine on
the unsunned slopes of the moun
tains were tossed together by a light
wind In the bowl of the hollow and
lay heavy on the air. Cynthia gave
a little cry of surprise.
It 8 a purty place, Doug."
"They’re sprouting fine. Look."
He raked away the leaves and ex
posed the pale olive plumules
springing vigorously out of their
forked roots and crowding a pas
sage into the upper air.
“They’re fine plants. When did
you make it?"
‘‘Las’ fall. It's too wet and shady
for corn anyway, so I just got the
idea to plant ’seng berry seeds. I’ll
make a sight of money off of this
patch," he said with confidence.
Cynthia’s eyes wandered over the
lovely spot.
“I hope you do. It’s getting right
scarce in the hills."
“If I can make me some ready
money I want to ask you something,
Cynthia."
“It’s a good bed. I must be get
ting back now. I hope your moth
er gets all right.”
"It ain’t that so much. You don’t
know how it is with all your folks
l up on Wolfpen to work all by your
' self all the time, it’s nice to see
you and have you look at my patch
and not anybody else know rbout it."
She turned away and they went
back down the hollow. She mount
ed the saddle from a fallen willow.
Doug handed her the basket, and
she smoothed her skirt over her
legs, adjusting her knee In the rest,
thinking: “He looks up at me near
ly as sad-eyed as Sarah, but I don’t
feel anything only sorry.’’
“I must go. You come up when
you can."
“I will. You come back.”
The Flnemare stepped impatient
ly off In a running walk which car
ried Cynthia quickly and without
jostle up Gannon toward Wolfpen.
CHAPTER VII
'T'lIE days passed but everybody
continued to be restless. Julia
had caught up with her garden now,
and even she was affected beneath
her outward calm.
At the supper table she said cas
ually: “I’ve a mind to go over to
Jenny’s tomorrow and stay all
night. The men will be coming In
soon and we’ll be tied down a right
smart while they’re here."
“That’s so, Julia,” Sparrel said.
“Somebody ought to go over there.”
In the early morning Sparrel
handed her into the saddle, and the
boys opened the gate, watching her
ride.
Cynthia waved farewell from the
yard. “It seems the natural way of
things for menfolk to be going away
somewhere. But when Mother ever
goes off by herself, Daddy and the
boys look glum all day.”
Julia’s absences from the place
were so infrequent that the house,
the yard, the garden all preserved
In consequence a more profound si
lence.
The day was hot and sultry. All
the crispness of the mornings was
gone in mid-May. When Cynthia
built the supper Are in the stove
and put the sweet potatoes to bake,
the heat filled up the kitchen for
the first time in that year. She laid
off the neat blue twill dress for the
coolness of an old and faded brown
calico. “It’s an ugly old thing but
it’s nice and cool to cook In. The
first hot days always tire a body
out so.”
Back In the kitchen, she lifted the
stove lid to lay on a piece of wood.
The hot lid slipped away from the
lifter and fell on her right hand
She Was Moved by the Eagerness
in His Eyes and the Pleading In
His Voice.
leaving a black smear and the furi
ous bite of Are tearing Into the
skin. She caught her breath with
the first pain, waving her hand up
and down to relieve It. “What an
awkward thing for a body to do and
on a hot day when you can’t hardly
get your breath In this kitchen, and
then to go and burn your right hand
Just when you’re ready to mix up
the cornbread batter.”
She washed away the soot and
anointed the burn with linseed oil
from the bottle in the cupboard and
spread soda over It and wrapped it
lightly with a white rag.
She placed the large wooden mix
ing howl on the table and began to
stir in the meal and the sour milk,
the soda and the shortening. It was
an awkward process. She took the
bowl into her right arm, pressing
it against her, and stirred slowly
with her left hand. Some of the
soft batter sloshed over against her
dress. A wisp of hair slipped from
its place and dangled into her eyes.
She pushed it back with her left
hand, leaving flakes of cornmeal
stuck in It and on her perspiring
forehead. She was hot und fretted.
“Gracious, but 1 feel u sight 1
could nearly cry,”
Outside she heard the yard gate
close sharply.
"There’s Jesse and Tm so glad I
could cry. He’ll help me some now
and me with tills burn."
She dabbed at the sweat on her
lip and went toward the door.
"Oh, Jesse, I’m sure glad—”
She had reached the door. Her
words ended as abruptly as though
the living self had walked straight
out of its hot body into the hab
itation of spirits. She stood per
fectly still, hugging the bowl of
corn-bread batter, shielding her
burned hand, looking at him through
the meal-stained lock of hair.
“Good evening,” he said. “This is
Sparrel Pattern’s place if I’m not
mistaken."
For the first time in her life she
was without the words a meeting
needed. She stood dumbly in the
door, while the young man came on
across the yard to the porch. He
wore a brown corduroy cap.
breeches of the same materia)
tucked away at the bottom into
heavy shoes, a blue shirt and a
black bow tie. He walked with the
easy grace and strength of u man
who was used to moving nbout In
the open on foot
Mr. Shellenberger described the
place like u surveyor, that Is. If this
is the Pattern place.” he said, ids
blue eyes and his voice smiling at
her across the porch.
Slowly Cynthia felt her natural
self return to the doorway. She
looked at the young man. Over his
bent left arm lie carried a large
brass surveyor’s compass with shin
ing, upright peep-sights on each
end. With his other hand he
grasped a long, smooth Jacob's start
like a huge walking stick tipped
with brass, and over his shoulder
was slung a knapsack and a sur
veyor’s cliaia
“This is the place. Daddy and
the boys are out about the barn
somewhere."
“Well, I'm glad to get here be
fore dnrk. My name’s Reuben War
ren, I've come to survey the place.”
Cynthia was bewitched by his
voice and the clear music of his
spoken words. His vocabulary was
very much the same as that of the
better Gannon Creek folk, but the
quality of the Intonation, the
rhythm of the sentences, and the
pitch of the voice were unusual to
her ear.
Cynthia remembered to say that
the menfolk would be In soon and
to Invite him to sit down.
“I’d better get on with the sup
per if you’ll excuse me."
Reuben Warren set the Jacob’s
staff against the door, slipped the
knapsack from his shoulder, and
then sat down with the compass on
his lap and felt the ugreeable glow
of rest sweep up the muscles of his
legs and settle in his neck and
shoulders where the heavy knap
sack had imprinted a red band. He
sat at ease, watching the dark
shadow of the Pinnacle slice up
ward toward Cranesnest. “The finest
place I’ve seen In all my trips into
the hills.”
Cynthia hurried back Into the
kitchen. “Reuben Warren. What a
nice name. Reu ben War ren. It’s
like a singing. It goes like his
talk." She poured the batter Into
the large Iron skillet and placed It
In the oven, bending over the stove
and opening the door carefully with
her burned hand. The loose strand
of hair again fell Into her eye. This
time she would fix It properly. She
went to the mirror that hung above
the table and looked at herself. She
gave a gesture of despair.
“Oh, my gracious, Cynthia Pat
tern, you never looked such a sight
In your whole life. That awful wisp
of hair over your face and the corn
meal In It like scruff, your hand
burned and bandaged, and your
sweaty face all red as a beet, and
this old brown striped calico dress
on and It spotted with batter I And
Reuben Warren saw you like that,
and he’ll think that’s the way I
always look, and I don’t. I never do."
There flashed Into her mind the
picture of her mother Julia years
ago In the wood-lot with a dress
full of chips, looking up suddenly
at Sparrel Pattern on a tall horse,
and then staring down at her dress,
and running away to the kitchen
with her confusion. The vision was
so sharp and so unexpected that It
completely changed Cynthia’s mood
and she felt a smile forming
through her tears.
“And my dreaming on about a
pear tree and a fine dress like Lady
Arabella’s and him saying, 'Lady,
you're the prettiest sight I ever saw
In all my born days’."
She removed the unsightly ban
dage and brushed away the loose
soda, and carefully washed the
burned hand. Then she bathed her
eyes back into composure. She felt
her spirit lifting above the confu
sion and the heat.
She opened the oven to look at
the baking sweet potatoes and the
bread. She went Into the smoke
house and sliced off the best cuts of
the home-cured ham to fry. She
took dripping spoonfuls of dark fra
grant honey from the stone Jar, and
sweet new butter from the spring
house. and a fresh loaf of wheat
bread from Julia’s box. Then she
slipped the every-day red and-whlte
eheeked cloth from the table and
spread in Its stead one of the hem
stitched while covers from the cedar
smelling linen closet In the hall.
She poured the brown sugar back
into the Jar and filled the bowl with
white granulated. She cut a spray
of wild honeysuckle from the clump
behind the drying kiln, arranged It
In a low brown earthen pot, and set
It Ifl the center of the table.
It was all very beautiful now, and
she stood hack to admire It for an
instant "He’ll see that I’m not
anyway slouchy. If he has any eyes.”
She heard Sparrel and the boys
coining into the yard. She looked
at the supper again and ran up to
her room to change into a fresh
dress. "Blue is best for my face
when it’s hot and for my hair.” She
felt neat and orderly, like the table
she had Just laid. She hurried back
to the kitchen.
•’I guess I’ve got things about
ready for him now.”
Outside on the porch she could
hear the voices of her menfolk mak
ing Reuben YVarren welcome on
Wolfpen.
“Where’s your mule?" she heard
Abral ask.
“I haven’t any mule."
"Then how did you get over here
with all them things?”
"I walked.”
"You walked?”
"Yes, I walked. Don’t you peo
ple ever walk any? You're as bad
as city folks.” It was the first time
she had heard his free laugh.
Cynthia was taking up the sup
per. She could hear the men at the
wash rock, Jesse offering Reuben
the soap and Jasper the towel.
Everything was ready now and she
mmui t k—
Julia Had Caught Up With Her
Garden Now.
stepped to the door. The days were
noticeably lengthening, as though
the light clung to the trees and the
sprouting fields and tried to shoul
der the darkness from the hollows.
‘‘Come in to supper,” she said.
"You sit right here, Mr. Warren,”
Sparrel said, placing him on the
right facing the kitchen where
Cynthia stood ready to serve. Then
Sparrel asked the blessing, raising
his head and looking at Cynthia as
he said the Amen.
Cynthia returned the look of com
munication, following Sparrel’s eyes
over the white table to the honey
suckle in the center. “lie thinks It
all right to tidy up the table for
company, but he wonders why 1 put
on the white cloth for Reuben War
ren and let Shellenberger take Just
what he found.”
Sparrel passed the food to his
guest, urging It upon him generous
ly after the manner of Gannon
Creek folks. Cynthia moved silent
ly about the table with water for
the glosses and with hot coffee and
warm triangles of corn bread that
was soft and flaky between the crisp
red crusts. Her brothers took only
the wheat loaf, but Reuben refused
It for the corn bread and Cynthia
flushed with confused pleasure, for
she felt Intuitively that he did It
out of consideration for the distress
and embarrassment she showed
when she met him at the door with
batter In her hand. It was the first
time In her life that such a secret
understanding had come to her and
It left her surprised with the won
der of Its recognition and communi
cation.
Abral had finished and was full of
questions. Where did Reuben live?
How did that Shellenberger fellow
find him? How did he know where
to come by himself?
“My father has an office down at
Catlettsburg. He Is a surveyor.
You can look out of the office win
dow and see the Big Sandy and the
Ohio coming together In a V around
West Virginia. Shellenberger Just
dropped In one day on his way to
Pittsburgh and said he was buying
some timber-land from Sparrel Pat
tern In Pike county and he wanted
a surveyor. My father was tied up
on a big Job over In Ohio, so I
packed up the traps and took the
train and then the boat and came
to Pattern Landing. I got ofT there
this afternoon about two-thirty, and
walked over the bridle path. It felt
good to stretch my legs. When I
saw this place from up there at the
head of the hollow, I thought It was
about the finest place I’ve ever seen
away from the river.”
"Does it take very long to learn
to be a surveyor?” Abral demanded.
“It’s not a very hard Job. You
Just naturally learn It after so long
a time. I guess I’ve been around
with my dad since I was about flf
teen.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Willi Under Engliih Law
Under English law a person can
dispose of his property by will as
he chooses. Neither husband not
wife Is under any obligation tc
leave any part of his or her proj*
erty to the other.
=Curiosa
Americana=
«
By Elmo Scott Watson
Coincidence in Samoa
THIS is a story of three Ripleys.
Back In the nineties Lieut.
Charles S. Ripley of the United
States nnvy was shipwrecked In the
South seas and landed upon an Is
land In the Samoan group. He was
taken before the ruler of the Island,
King Malletoa, who asked the offi
cer his name and who then aston
ished him by greeting him ns "cous
in."
The explanation was simple. Many
years before, a great-uncle of Lieu
tenant Ripley, a native of Maine,
had sailed for the Orient and had
never returned. He, too, had been
shipwrecked in Samoan waters, had
married a native princess and found
ed the dynasty of which King
Malletoa was the third generation.
King Malleton insisted upon adopt
ing Lieutenant Ripley and several
years later an International commis
sion, composed of representatives
of the United States, Great Britain
and Germany, then engaged In set
tling the question of sovereignty
over the Samoan Islands, settled
upon him as the true heir to Malle
toa’s throne. Ripley, however, de
clined to exercise his right as king
and returned to the United States
to make his home In Colorado.
Coincidence in Samoa? Yes, and
In the United States, too. In one
of his radio broadcasts a few years
ago, Robert L. Ripley, the “Believe
It or Not" man, told that story.
Soon afterwards he received a let
ter from Mrs. Charles L. Ripley In
Denver saying that at the very mo
ment his broadcast came to an end,
Lieutenant Ripley had died!
Sacred Harp Singers
SOMETIME In the late summer go
down into the South and attend
a convention of the Sacred Harp
Singers. When you do, close your
eyes as they sing and feel yourself
transported from modern America
back to Elizabethan England.
For the Sacred Hurp Singers
cling to the “fa-so-la” singing of
that far-off period, the “fa-so-la”
being the names of the notes with
which the major diatonic scale be
gan. Because they have refused to
take Into consideration the “do-ra
mi” and “si-do” ndded later, they
have been called a “lost tonal tribe.”
The Sacred Harp Singers have
borne that name for almost a cen
tury, taking It from a book of
hymns called “The Sacred Harp,”
published In Philadelphia in 1844.
First compiled by B. F. White and
E. J. King of Georgia, It has gone
through many editions and many
hymns have been added.
On some week-end between early
July and early September, when
their crops “have been laid by," the
Sacred Harp Singers gather for a
convention.. The president opens It
with a song, then a chapter from
the Bible *ls read and the chaplain
leads the group in prayer. There
after the Sacred Harp people fre
quently sing all day with ten-min
ute recesses every hour and a half.
“A Dollar Down and ..
IF YOU think buying on the In
stallment plan Is a modern cus
tom, consider this good advice, of
fered the housewife In “Decorum—
A Practical Treatise on Etiquette
and Dress of the Best American So
ciety" in 1877:
Avoid Concealment.
Instances frequently occur of con
cealment with regard to money con
cerns; thus, for Instance, a wife
wishes to possess an article of dress
which Is too costly for Immediate
purchase, or a piece of furniture li
able to the same objection. She ac
cordingly makes an agreement with
a seller, and there are many who
call regularly at houses when the
husband Is absent on business, and
who receive whatever the mistress
of the house can spare from her ex
penses. A book Is kept by the sell
er, In which payments are entered:
but a duplicate is never retained by
the wife, and therefore she has no
check whatever.
We have known an article of dress
paid for In this manner, far above
its value, and heard of a poor young
woman who had been thus duped
say to a lady, who remonstrated
with her: “Alas! What can I do, 1
dare not tell my husband!"
It may be that the same system,
though differing according to cir
cumstances, Is pursued In a supe
rior class of life. We have reason
to think that it is so, and there
fore affectionately warn our young
sisters to beware of making pur
chases that require concealment. Be
content with such things as you can
afford and such as your husbands
approve. You can then wear them
with every feeling of self-satisfac
tion, and have a contented mind.
© Western Newspaper Union.
Complaint in Form of Poem
When the residents of Lower San
dusky, Ohio, wanted to change the
name of the town to Fremont in
the latter 1840s they engaged Ruth
erford B. Hayes as their legal rep
resentative. Strangely enough, says
the Cleveland Plain Dealer, Hayes,
later to become governor and then
President, was the only person to
present the only formal petition
asking for the change and the only
person to present the only formal
complaint made against the pro
posed change. The complaint, which
h3 presented after he had submit
ted the petition, was In the form
of a seven-verse poem written by
an old man of the town who want
ed the place to retain the same
name. It was, of course, changed.
SERIOUS FEEDING
TIME FOR TURKEYS
Raisers Should Be Putting
Pounds on Birds.
Bjr L. E. CLINE, University of Nevida
Agricultural Extension Division.—WNU
Service.
Turkey growers who want to
make profits at the business are
putting the pounds on their birds as
fast as possible these days. The four
or five months of the summer feed
ing period are the most vital to
making profits. The first six weeks
of the turkey’s life is a very critical
period, but little weight is put on.
The finishing period just before
marketing the birds is also impor
tant, but in it likewise little weight
is added in proportion to the large
expense for feed.
But during the in-between period,
according to Cline, the rapidly grow
ing turkey adds pounds economi
cally because it converts, at a rapid
rate, large amounts of a relatively
low priced feed into a high-priced
commodity to grace the table dur
ing the fall and winter. During this
fast growing period a relatively
small proportion of the feed given
is needed for maintenance while a
large' proportion is available for
growth and profits.
When the average turkey is two
months old it will weigh about 2.5
pounds. This weight is put on at an
average rate of 2.15 pounds of feed
per pound gain in weight. A month
later the turkey will weigh 5
pounds, and will be gaining one
pound for approximately each three
pounds of feed eaten.
At the end of the fourth month, the
turkey should weigh at least 8.25
pounds and is turning feed into tur
key meat at the rate of 3.5 pounds
of feed to one pound of turkey.
Good gains may be made also
during the fifth month, but there
after the ratio of pounds gained to
feed consumed declines very rap
idly, until it takes 5.6 pounds of
feed to produce one pound of tur
key in the sixth month and approxi
mately 10.7 pounds of feed for one
pound of meat in the seventh month.
After that the feed often costs
more than the net price which will
be received for the additional
pounds of turkey.
While feeding in adequate quan
tity is very important the composi
tion of the feed is equally impor
tant. The two must go together if
the most pounds of turkey are to be
put on.
Maintenance Ration and
Laying Ration Different
Poultry is fed chiefly for one or
more of three purposes: growth, egg
production, and maintenance.
A maintenance ration differs from
a laying ration, not in the ingre
dients, but in proportions, less ani
mal food, or protein, being used.
Whether feeding for growth, egg
production, or maintenance, five
classes of foods are necessary for
poultry, asserts a writer in Hoard’s
Dairyman.
1. Grains, for energy, heat, flesh
and egg-forming materials. Usually
fed in two forms: ground, called
"mash” and in the kernel, called
“scratch feed.”
2. Greens, as aid to digestion, for
their health-giving and growth pro
moting properties.
3. Animal foods, rich in egg- and
flesh-forming materials; the most
essential as weli as the most expen
sive and most frequently lacking
ingredient in all laying rations.
4. Mineral matter, as an aid to di
gestion and to supply material for
egg shells and bone structure. Ex
amples: high-grade limestone grit,
oyster shells, and charcoal. Keep
these accessible to the fowls at all
times. Feed a small amount of table
salt in all mashes.
5. Water. Quenches thirst, regu
lates body temperatures, transports
nutrients, and eliminates wastes.
Picking Out Feathers
The trouble with chickens picking
out their feathers is caused by a
small mite that gets into the skin
near the base of the feathers and
causes irritation. To get rid of this
mite, according to the North Caro
lina State college, the poultry house
should be thoroughly cleaned and
sprayed with a solution of three
parts of crude petroleum or carbo
iineum and one and one-half parts
of kerosene. Dip the birds in a tub
containing two ounces of flowers of
sulphur and six ounces of flaked
soap to five gallons of tepid water.
Be sure that the solution gets to the
skin.
Chickens Need Water
Hot weather sends the poultryman
to the well many times during each
day for a refreshing drink of cold
water. He must remember that his
layers get just as thirsty as'does he
and they need water just as much
as he does or even more because
of the body functioning which he
expects of them. The water supply
in the summer henhouse should be
extra clean—for it is hot weather—
always abundant, cool and fresh.
Cleanse the water pans every morn
ing and again in the afternoon.
Never let the supply run dry.—
Rural New-Yorker.
Quaint Sampler Will
Keep You Occupied
COME IN THE COME IN TNE
•rt. EVENING MORNING
r « 0,1
COME WHEN COME
V YOU’RE WITHOUT >
LOOKED TOR WARNING
OR _
Pattern 1187
No matter what the Season—a
sampler’s always fun to do, espec
ially when it offers as colorful
a picture, as quaint a verse, as
this. You’ll find it a grand way to
use up scraps of cotton or silk
floss, and a design that works up
in no time, for the background is
plain. Wouldn’t it go beautifully in
a young girl’s room? Perchance
that Young Miss will want to do
this easy cross stitch design her
self!
Pattern 1187 comes to you with
a transfer pattern of a sampler
12 1-4 x 15 1-4 inches; color sug
gestions; material requirements;
illustrations of all stitches used.
Send 15 cents in stamps or coins
(coins preferred) for this pattern
to The Sewing Circle Needlecraft
Dept., 82 Eighth Ave., New York,
N. Y.
Write plainly pattern number,
your name and address.
Tennyson Hot-Headed
Thomas Hardy has commented
dryly that “it is as risky to calcu
late people’s way of living from
their writings as their incomes
from their way of living.”
I heard in London, from a de
lightful old man named Macmur
do, who had been the intimate of
the Brownings and other Victorian
notables, of an incident in which
the poet who wrote “kind hearts
are more than coronets,” threw
the mustard pot at his children’s
tutor (Macmurdo’s brother-in
law) one morning at breakfast,
because the tutor, in the course
of an abstract discussion, stood
firmly by opinions in opposition
to Tennyson’s own.
“Simple faith” may be “more
than Norman blood,” but illustra
tions are legion that the man who
said it was the quintessence of
autocratic arrogance and undisci*
plined temper.
Week’s Supply of Postum Free
Head the offer made by the Postum
Company In another part of this pa
per. They will send a full week’s sup
ply of health giving Postum free te
anyone who writes for It—Adv.
On the Hearts
Write your name by kindness,
love, and mercy, on the hearts of
the people you come in contact
with year by year and you will
never be forgotten.—Mrs. Anne
Royall.
If you feel...
-tired
- run-down
-nervous
-out of sorts
«
THERE is usually a definite reason
for such complaints... so, now let’*
reason sensibly.
Don’t try to get well in a day.. .this
Is asking too much of Nature. Remem
ber, she has certain natural processes
that just cannot be hurried.
Therefore, if you are pale, tired,
lack a keen appetite, have loet weight
and feel rundown...a frequent sign
that your blood-cells are weak, with «
tendency towards anemia—then do try
in the simple, easy way so many mil
lions approve—by starting a course of
S.S.S. Blood Tonic to feel like your
self again. © S.S.S. Ca.
i _
I ■
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