ira^a®^
A Brave Man
By VIC YARDMAN
(Associated Newspapers—WNU Service.!
Li wanted to scream. But she
didn't. Girls brought up on
western ranches amid rough,
crude surroundings aren’t
supposed to scream when mad bulls
charge at them. Besides. Kent might
have thought she was frightened.
She looked at Kent now, standing
there beside her, tall and straight.
She looked at him and saw that
his lips were white. She knew that
he was scared—remembered In that
instant that all dudes were supposed
to be seared of wild bulls. She half
expected him to run. But he didn't.
And then suddenly he stepped in
front of her, as if somehow he
thought of shielding her from those
piercing horns.
It was a pitiful attempt, would
have seemed laughable had the sit
uation been less serious. Lois looked
around a little wildly, and then she
remembered Jack. Jack had gone
for the horses. And suddenly he ap
peared. galloping Into the clearing
at its other end, bending low over
the neck of his gray.
Lois caught her breath. It was a
frightfully thrilling scene; Jack, a
glamorous figure, riding to her res
cue. The bull had its head down,
hence wasn't expecting the attack.
But even if it had known, it wouldn't
have mattered. For Jack had won
laurels bulldogging wild steers.
It was all over in record time. The
bull lay prostrate almost at her feet.
And after a minute Jack got up,
grinning at her boyishly. And then
1 IIV' • I
Yes, Jack was her kind of man.
the bull staggered to its feet and
lumbered away, glad to disregard
its mission of a moment before.
Lois gushed profusely and Jack
swaggered a bit and invited more
gushing. Then suddenly they re
membered Kent, and looked at him.
Surprisingly there was admiration in
his blue eyes.
"Good work. Dunn,” he said, and
extended his hand. "Darned lucky
for us both you were around.”
Jack turned back to Lois. He
didn't seem to notice Kent's out
stretched hand. And Lois knew a
flash of anger because of his rude
ness; but the flash was nothing
more. It passed, and then she was
telling Jack all over again what a
hero he was.
The trail was pretty narrow along
the way home, hardly wide enough
for three to ride abreast. Kent found
himself alone most of the time.
The incident back there in the
clearing had sort of cleared things
up for Lois.
Yes, Jack was her kind of man.
Once she had hoped he wouldn’t be.
She had thought then she wanted a
man like Kent Whittaker. A good
looking, cultured, educated man. A
man born of the cities. A man who
liked to read good books, appreciat
ed good music, a man who knew and
understood something besides wheth
er or not a cow had colic and what
to do about it.
That's why she had invited Kent
out to the ranch—to compare him
with Jack. Jack had loved her all
his life. A man who did things with
his hands and wasn't afraid of a
single thing. A man's man.
She had to decide between them.
For Kent loved her, too. He had
told her so, that evening six months
ago at the Hilton Club back in Bos
ton. She had been spending a vaca
tion there with an aunt.
She thought she loved him then,
too. She was glad now she had
waited. For after comparing him
with Jack she knew the cultured
voice and fine manners and abun
dance of knowledge didn’t mean a
thing when it came to saving her
life.
She didn't like the way Jack had
acted since Kent’s arrival. He was
a little too scornful of the easterner’s
eflorts to adapt himself to the un
usual life he had come to. He never
complimented; held himself some
what aloof, occasionally made some
insulting remark that brought the
blood rushing into Kent’s cheeks. But
Kent never lost his temper. He al
ways smiled and didn't seem to let
Jack’s remarks bother him.
Lois wondered now if that were
Decause Kent was afraid. Afraid of
Jack. It must be. Well, she was
glad now she knew.
They were nearing the ranch, and
the trail was wider. Kent had come
up beside them, and Jack was look
ing at him with that scornful little
smile on his lips. Lois glanced at
Kent and saw that his mouth was
white again. She was faintly dis
gusted to think he couldn’t have
mastered his fear by this time. It
was a pity, she thought, he couldn’t
have been invested with some of
Jack's qualities.
Kent suddenly leaned over and
caught the rein of Jack's gray and
brought the animal to a stop.
"Dunn.” he said softly, *‘I hoped
that what F’m about to do could be
avoided. F see now that it can’t
I've been sizing you up during the
past two weeks and just now I’ve
come to the conclusion that you’re
about the biggest idiot I've ever run
across. In fact, you're quite a con
ceited ass. You're mean and selfish
and a miserable whelp. You’re self
centered, low-down and ornery. Sum
ming the thing up and resorting to
western vernacular I unhesitatingly
classify you in the same category as
I would a skunk. Now what do you
think of that?”
"I think,” said Jack Ounn, eyes
ablaze, "that I’ll take you apart
and put you together again wrong
end to." And thus speaking Jack
made a pass at Kent and missed
completely. Somewhat surprised,
he was attempting to regain his bal
ance when something struck him
mightily on the chin. He toppled
from his saddle head over heels and
smote the ground a resounding
crack. When he looked up there was
Kent standing above him, still smil
ing, no longer white of lip.
Jack got to his feet and made a
couple of awkward attempts to reach
Kent's face, but Kent’s face never
seemed to be in the same place J
twice. After a while Jack found
difficulty in rising following a par
ticularly devastating assault on the
point of his jaw, and presently aban
doned the attempt.
Kent looked at him for a moment
or two, decided that the thing was
done, and returned to his horse. Lois
had by this time comprehended the
significance of what was transpir
ing, had made swift changes in her
thoughts.
She was, therefore, a little
alarmed when Kent rode away with
out even glancing in her direction.
She rode after him, and he looked
at her, phlegmatically, smiling I
pleasantly. There was, in fact, noth
ing in his expression that she want
ed to see, nothing but a sort of grim
satisfaction that a man is apt to
have who has been victorious in bat
tle.
Suddenly, without knowing why,
she reined in her horse. And Kent
rode on, not once looking back, not
hurrying, not seeming to care wheth
er she followed or not. A great emp
tiness stole into her heart, a hurt
feeling. She understood. She knew
she was losing the only thing she
had ever cared for. Yet she did i
not condemn this man, blamed no ;
one. The thing was the result of her !
own selfishness. In the brief space
of a moment, she realized, the ta
bles had been turned. Kent had de
cided that she wasn't his kind of
woman—and proved it.
Blind Wife Bakes Cake
For Sightless Husband
Imagine stirring up an angel food
cake in the middle of the night with
out turning on the light.
Imagine baking a cake and know
ing. without even a glance at the
clock, just when it is that delightful
golden brown that means perfec
tion.
Imagine icing it there in the dark
ness.
And imagine serving it, neatly cut, !
and placed on small plates, togeth
er with cups of fragrant coffee, to a
group of dozen friends sitting there
in the blackness
Whether the time is midnight or I
midafternoon, the darkness is there
for pretty Evelyn Lee of Los An- '
geles, but she has never thought of
it as darkness, because she has been
blind since birth.
Absence of light does not mean
fear, tiptoeing, and dependence to
this very busy housewife, for the
darkness is soft and black and
friendly. Through it she feels fa- i
miliar furniture and cooking uten
sils, and she hears all of the normal
happy sounds of daylight and living j
Serving her carefully prepared re
freshments at a party is not done
gropingly with spilling of crumbs
and drops, but gayly and with all of
the assurance of any experienced
hostess. The guests, both blind and
sighted, are natural and at ease.
There is no breathless wait, as Mrs.
Lee wheels her serving cart ex
pertly through the doorway from
her attractive kitchen.
Mrs. Lee's fame as a cook has
spread until now she is writing a
cookbook in Braille, to be published
within the next few months by the
Braille institute.
Expensive Jaywalking
If in the near future you see a
Chicago policeman carrying a knap
sack. don’t be alarmed. He is not
carrying his lunch with him and
neither is he carrying a gun in it.
What he probably will have in the
knapsack is a supply of picture
folders displaying the dangers ol
Jaywalking. If the Chicago City
council goes through with its inten
tions of printing 200,000 such folders,
police will hand one to each vio
lator. The jaywalking ordinance, ii
passed, will include a fine of from
$1 to |200, after the educations
period.
Fanaticus Americanus
The word “fan" comes from fanatic, which means, roughly, a
guy who is frantically enthusiastic about something or other. As
an enthusiast the American fan is second to none, rhe fans act
is as much a part of the game as anything which goes on inside
the playing field. We introduce to you here some of the more
rabid oj the breed that happened to catch the eye of the camera.
If you wish to see the
fan of fans go to Brook
lyn. These Dodgeritea
tell Cincinnati Reds
how they feel about it.
Right: This lady fan
does her razzing musi
cally.
This midshipman gives all his
lungpouer for the navy during
a game against the Columbia
university Lions.
ITS IIS THE BAG. The type
of fan that becomes a near ma
niac u'hen the other side makes
a 9th inning rally.
THAT 1 SHOULD
LIVE . . . There is
disillusionment,dis
gust and sorrote in
every line of this
veteran fans fare.
Every fan comes to
this sooner or later.
The gents at the right and left are giving the “Bronx cheer,'’
and the man in the center seems to be too full for uords.
l*f CU*to Scott Watte*
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
America’s Troubadour
/^N JULY 4, 1776, a group of men,
meeting in Philadelphia, ush
ered into the world a new nation—
the United States of America.
On July 4, 1826, in another Penn
sylvania city, occurred another no
table event in American history. For
at noon on that day the ninth child
of William B. and Eliza Foster was
ushered into the world to the tune
of ‘Hail Columbia,” “Yankee Doo
dle," “Hail to the Chief’ and "The
Star Spangled Banner.” played by
blaring bands as Pittsburgh celebrat
ed the fiftieth anniversary of the
signing of the Declaration of Inde
pendence.
No one there could have realized
it then, but this child was destined
to become “America’s Troubadour”
and to write the songs which were
to be closest to the hearts of the
nation whose birthday was also his
birthday. For he was Stephen Col
lins Foster.
As a gay young blade of 19 in
Pittsburgh, Foster had a half dozen
boon companions, youths of his own
age, who met regularly twice a week
to sing at Stephen’s home. They
brought their banjos and guitars with
them, and called themselves the
“Knights of the Square Table.” It
was for this group that Foster wrote
many of his finest and earliest songs.
For one of them Foster received
$100, an event which determined his
career for him. “Imagine my delight
in receiving $100 in cash!” he wrote
later. “Though this song was not
successful, yet the two $50 bills I
STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER
(From the portrait by Thomas
Hicks, 1852)
received for it had the effect of
starting me on my vocation.”
Then E. P. Christy, head of Chris
ty’s Minstrels, asked him to write
a song for him to sing before it
was published and the result was
the world-famous “Old Folks at
Home” or, as it is more familiarly
known, “Suwanee River.” By per
mitting Christy to sign his name in
stead of Foster’s to this song, the
composer obtained an advance of
$15. Later he received more than
$2,000 in royalties from its sales but
he had a great deal of difficulty in
establishing his authorship because
Christy copyrighted it in his own
name.
The decade 1850 to 1860 was Ste
phen Foster’s heydey. In 1850 he
was married to Jane McDowell. In
1852 he wrote “Massa’s in de Cold,
Cold Ground”; began efforts to have
himself acknowledged as the right
ful author of “Old Folks at Home,"
and with his wife took that memora
ble steamboat trip to New Orleans,
the rich fruit of which was to be the
song, “My Old Kentucky Home.”
But Foster’s married life was not
a happy one. He and his wife lived
for a few years with Stephen’s fam
ily in Pittsburgh, then moved to New
York. There the composer yielded
more and more to the temptation of
strong drink until at last his wife
left him, mainly because she had to
earn a living for herself and their
child, Marion.
Foster died on January 13, 1864,
in Bellevue, a charity hospital <n
New York city. In his clothes they
found a small purse containing 38
cents and a slip of paper with five
penciled words on it. They were
“Dear friends and gentle hearts."
Says John Tasker Howard in his
biography of Foster:
“No doubt this was to have been
the title of an unwritten song, but
whatever its intent, the phrase de
scribes quite perfectly the dear j
friend and gentle heart who added
‘Old Folks at Home’ and a dozen j
other immortal songs to the world’s
spiritual riches."
• • •
On the campus at the University
of Pittsburgh stands the Stephen
Collins Foster Memorial building,
erected at a cost of half a million,
raised by the Tuesday Musical club
of Pittsburgh, in co-operation with
the university and with musical
clubs in 25 other states. It is a
“Foster shrine,” comprising an audi- j
torium, rehearsal and reception j
rooms, and a museum contain
ing a collection of material relating
to Foster which Joseph K. Lilly of
Indianapolis, Ind., gathered together
at a cost of approximately $160,000.
NEW IDEAS ^
By Ruth Wyeth Spears
CORDING \\>
FOOT V
b\SEAM
X X/ CORD
iSTRAIGHTSTRip
SEW
l OPENING
\ AFTER
, \INSERTING
\ \CUSHION
\ \ BASTE
\y in
aS PLACE
CUTTING
LJAVE you considered covering
A your out-of-door cushions
with water-resistant artificial
leather? It may be cut and sewn
the same as any heavy fabric.
The colors are all so fresh and
gay that you will be inspired to
try striking combinations. Use a
coarse machine needle; a No. 5
hand needle; No. 20 or 24 sewing
thread and regulate the machine
to about 12 stitches to the inch.
The cushions shown here are
green with seam cords covered in
red. The sketch shows how they
are made. The cotton seam cord
should be about %-inch in diam
eter. It is covered with a straight
strip 1 Yt inches wide stitched with
the machine cording foot to allow
the sewing to come up close to
the cord. The raw edges of the
cord covering are basted around
the top and bottom of the cover
on the right side, as shown, and
are then stitched in with the seam.
If you like variety in your cush
ions, there is an idea for sturdy
ones made of burlap and silk
stockings on page 23 of SEWING,
Book 5.
• • •
NOTE: Book 7. in the series of Home
makers' Booklets by Mrs. Spears, is the
latest and contains directions for more
than thirty things which you will want
for your own home or for gifts. Included
are working drawings for reconditioning
old chairs and other furniture; directions
for a spool whatnot; an unusual braided
rag rug; and many things to make with
needle and thread. The seven booklets
now available contain a total of more than
two hundred of Mrs. Spears’ NEW IDEAS
for Homemakers. Booklets are 10 cents
each. Send your order to:
MRS. RUTH WYETH SPEARS
Drawer 10
Bedford Hills New York
Enclose 10 cents for each book
ordered.
Name.
Address...
De arJMlom:
Well, here it is an
other weekend and I'm
not a General yet.
But give me time.
The nearest village
is 5 miles away. All
you find there is a
general store, a ga
rage and a canning
factory—nowhere to
go for any good clean
fun, unless you drop
in at a smoke-filled
juke joint on the way.
Well, Mom, there's
a big favor you can
do me. The U. S. 0.
is trying to raise
$10,765,000 to run
clubs for us, outside
of camp. Places with
lounge rooms, dance
floors, games, writ
ing rooms. Places you
can get a bite to
eat without paying a
king's ransom.
I know you don't
have an idle million
OPEN YOUR HEART
OPEN YOUR PURSE
GIVE TO THE
lying around, but if
you could get the
family interested and
some of the neigh
bors, and if that
happened all over the
country, the U. S. 0.
could raise $10,765,
000 overnight.
I'd appreciate it
a lot. Mom, and so •
would every other
mother's son in the
U. S. Army and Navy.
Love,
Bill
They’re doing their bit for you. Will
you do your bit for them? Send your
contribution to your local U.S.O.
Committee or to U. S O. National
Headquarters, Empire State Build
ing, New York, N. Y.
• • •
These organizations have joined
forces toformtheU.SO.:thcY.\ICA,
National Catholic Community Service,
Salvation Army, Y. W.CA., Jewish
Welfare Board, National Travelers
Aid Association.
THE ADVERTISER INVITES YOUR
PHll/iD A TJ T C O M 7110 advertiser assures ua that his goods
Nrf V1V1 * ■»* nlwWIi are good. He invites us to compare them
with others. We do. Should he relax for a minute and let his standards drop,
we discern it. We tell others. We cease buying his product. Therefore he
keeps up the high standard of his wares, and the prices as low as possible.
