The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965, December 04, 1941, Image 2

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    Sisal—‘Good Neighbor* Product
Sisal, the fiber made from the henequen plant of Yucatan,
touches upon the life of every American. For most wrapping twine
around the mail or express package ive get is sisal-made. And the
bread we eat was made from flour made from wheat bound up in
the field with sisal twine, for American farmers have never found
an acceptable substitute. War, with its increased demand for wire
and steel products, has forced twine and rope into new roles of
importance, thus creating for sisal the greatest demand in history.
A big ship unloads 10,000 bales of Yucatan's “green gold," as
sisal is known, in the Port of New Orleans, to be converted into
binder twine for the nation's "breadbasket."
Left: *4 bale, of sisal has just been opened in a New Orleans rope
factory, and the strands are being fed into a breaker machine.
Right: These lonf;, golden strands are about to become yarn.
This machine is a preliminary processor, which cards out the
fibers and lays them parallel to each other.
Now in yarn form, rolled on
bobbins, the sisal is being spun
into a small ball of rope by the
girl at the machine.
Coils of finished rope made
from sisal are about to begin
their journey to the far corners
of the country.
Great Love
(Associated Newspapers—WNU Service.)
A LICIA WYLIE felt perspira
/\ tion on her face. She held
± \ her hands In her lap. tightly
clenched beneath her eve
ning bag. She tried not to listen to
the sighs of disappointment and the
brutally frank remarks that people
In the audience were making all
around her.
She thought: "Oh, why don’t they
begin? Why don't they give Allred
a chance? Why can’t they be kind?"
She remembered with a cold (ear
nudging at her heart the reaction
of the paid admissions when the
theater manager, obviously dis
tressed, announced that because of
a sudden attack of laryngitis Myron
Corbin would be unable to fulfill his
engagement but that a substitute.
Alfred Deems by name, whom the
critics believed was a rising young
genius, had been secured.
The orchestra leader, standing on
his pedestal, raised his baton. There
was a crash of music. Dowagers,
slim young things and stifT-shirted
men ceased their buzz of talk. They
faced the stage, settled in their
seats, their faces resigned, skepti
cal, bored.
Alfred Deems appeared on the
stage. He was young and dark and
handsome, but his evening clothes
seemed ill-fitting and there was an
awkwardness to his movements. He
smiled at the great crowd almost
Alicia Wylie’s hands were still. She
sat there pale and rigid and tense,
watching Alfred Deems. And pres
ently Alfred began to sing. His
Alicia closed her eyes and swayed
toward him; and he caught her In
his arms . . .
voice, a rich tenor, floated out over
the auditorium, lifted to the balco
nies full and clear. The faint sound
of rustling and whispering conversa
tion stopped abruptly. The expres
sion of skeptical resignation changed
to surprise and wonder and then
amazed delight. A wave of relief
and joy surged through Alicia’s
blood. For the first time she trusted
her eyes to look at the people about
her. And what she saw filled her
with a rapturous joy. Tears came
into her eyes, and through them as
through a wavering mist she saw
the tall form of Alfred Deems, no
longer awkward or self conscious or
shy, lifting up his voice to its great
est heights.
A week ago Alicia had called at
the apartment of Myron Corbin. The
great singer stood in his living room
and bowed very formally over the
hand she extended. Behind them a
serving man closed the door. Myron
Corbin looked up, took a step for
ward and lifted his arms as if to
clasp her to him.
“Darling, it was good of you to
come. So good."
“Please, Myron. I—I only wanted
to ask a favor.”
“Anything, my dear. Anything at
all. You know I’d go the ends of
; the world to please you, I’ve told
you so a hundred times.”
Alicia's hand, holding a cigarette,
trembled as she looked up at him.
“Oh, Myron, you’ll probably hate
me for this.”
“Nothing you could do would make
me hate you, my dear. Come, what
is it?” He sat beside her, smiled,
took one of her hands in his.
“Myron—do—do you still love
“Most desperately, my dear. More
than life itself. It’s been that way
since we met in Paris two years
ago.” He smiled whimsically.
“Please don't tell me you’ve
changed your mind. The shock
would be too great. You see I’ve
resigned myself to life without you—
the only thing I’ve ever wanted and
; not been able to have.”
The cigarette in Alicia's hand was
cold. She looked at him, wide-eyed
and afraid. "Oh, Myron, it’s—it’s
so hard. I know you’ll think me
“There, there.” He patted her
hand. “Please give me the one
chance at happiness that still re
mains—the opportunity to do some
thing for you.”
Alicia swallowed, and plunged.
‘‘Myron, if you love me—you can un
derstand how I feel when I say I love
another, more desperately, more
madly. Please don’t look that way,
Myron. I know it must hurt. I know
how selfish I am. But—but try and
understand how you’ve felt toward
me, what madness must have driven
me to this."
She paused, and when he only
looked at her, pale and silent she
rushed on. "It's Alfred TVoms.
You’ve never heard of him. He’s
a singer, an unknown. But some
day, Myron, he’s going to be great
As great as you. Oh, I know itf
Now he's at the bottom of the lad
der looking up. He’s never been
given a chance, all the breaks have
been against him. He’s met with
defeat at every turn. But if he were
given the opportunity he'd make
good. I’m sure he would. And,
oh, Myron, you can help him. You
alone. And I’ve come to you to
ask the favor because—because I
love him and I want him to have
his chance.”
She stopped, paler still, breathing
“And just how,” he asked Use
lessly, “can I—er—help this young
man to achieve success?”
Alicia told him, explained her
wild, desperate plan, so fantastic
as to seem ridiculous. Then she |
stopped again and waited, her face a
deathly white, her heart seeming
to have ceased its beating. “Don’t
you see,” she said, "I love him.”
And at last Myron Corbin smiled.
“No man," he said, “is worth doing
what you have done.” He took her
hands in his and she looked up at
him tremulously.
"Then—then you’ll do it?”
He nodded. "Once I did not think
it possible for a human being to love
more than I loved you. Now I know
I was wrong. My reward, dear girl,
comes from knowing that the feeling
of affection and respect and admira
tion I have for you is justified.”
Alicia closed her eyes and swayed
toward him; and he caught her in
his arms . . .
The concert was over. The ap
plause was deafening. Again and
again Alfred Deems came out to bow
and smile his appreciation. •
At last Alicia gained a place back
stage, and after an hour she was
admitted to the dressing room of
the newly made celebrity. Alfred
was alone. He stood in the center of
the floor, even as Myron Corbin had
done in his palatial apartment a
week ago.
"Alfred! Oh, my darling!” She
ran to him, flung herself into his
arms, sobbed on his shoulder. But
Alfred’s arms did not hold her close.
They hung at his side, lifeless, un
welcoming. And at length she
sensed that something was wrong
and drew away, looked up into his
"Alfred! What’s the matter?”
"Matter?” He laughed bitterly.
"Matter? So now that I have
climbed the ladder, now that I am a
success, I’m good enough for even
you, eh?”
"Alfred, whatever are you say
"Oh, don’t pull that innocent stuff.
It’s disgusting. There’s no use try
ing to act surprised, because I
know it all.”
"Know it? Know what?”
He turned on her furiously. "Know
that you were in love with Myron
Corbin, know that you practically
lived with him in Paris two years
ago, know that you were up in his
room a week ago. Oh, it's revolt
ing—to think that I ever respected
and—and loved a girl such as you!”
"Alfred! For the love of heaven!
—Alfred! You’re wrong! Wrong! I
can explain! Explain it all. It
But Alfred Deems only laughed
scornfully, and thrust her away.
"Fool!" he hissed. "To think you
can come back to me now. Get out
of my way. I must go. Tomorrow
I sing in Chicago. And tomorrow
I’ll leave you behind forever. Just
a bad memory.”
Alicia reached toward him. Words
stuck in her throat. She sank to
her knees, lifted up her arms plead
ingly. But Alfred Deems had opened
the door, and with one Anal, con
temptuous look in her direction he
went out and the door slammed be
hind him. '
Pygmies Are Nomads by
Nature; Low Mentality
In the summer of 1934 a scientist
found 30 well-developed primate
skulls in the Beartooth mountains,
a range of the Rockies in Montana.
He estimated that these primates
from which man descended, lived
from 156 to 175 millions of years ago.
and that the age of this mummy
was approximately 3,000,000 years.
Relics and stories of these manni
kins are to be found in all coun
tries. They are nomads by nature,
wandering from place to place, sup
porting life by hunting. Pygmies
have apparently no family ties of
affection such as those of mother to
son, or sister to brother, and seem
to be wanting in all social qualities.
The low state of their mental devel
opment is shown by their disregard
for time, nor have they any records
or traditions of the past. No religion
is known among them, nor have they
any fetish rights. They are the clos
est link with the original “Darwin
ian Anthropoid ape” extant.
The men wear a plain strip of
cloth around the loins and the wom
en simply a bunch of leaves. They
have no ornaments of any kind,
which shows their low development.
They have no music or musical in
struments. Their only dancing con
sists of strutting around in a circle
to the tapping of a bow with an ar
row. Where a Pygmy dies, he is
buried and forgotten.
Barnum Had Plugged Holes
And Was in the Money
When P. T. Barnum, as a young
man, left Danbury, Conn., to
make his way in the world, he
left numerous unpaid bills behind
him. To one creditor the imagi
native showman said with great
intensity: “I’ll pay you what I
owe you as soon as I get rich.”
The other laughed and eyed the
youth disdainfully.
“That will be when a sieve holds
water,” he jeered.
But in a few years the master
showman was well on the road to
success, and with great satisfac
tion wrote the man the following
“Dear Sir: I have fixed that
Ideals as Stars
Ideals are like stars; you will
not succeed in touching them with
your hands, but like the seafaring
man on the desert of waters, you
choose them as your guides, and,
following them, you reach your
destiny.—Carl Schurz.
WITH cotton!
T'HESE conversation chairs so
much at home in a Victorian
setting would be just as smart in
a modern room. They are com
fortable too, and any man who
can nail together a box of one
inch pine boards can make a
frame for one. The lady with
needle and thread then takes over.
If ready made spring cushions are
used it is best to buy them first
and then plan the box base to fit.
The dimensions in the diagram
tilt the back and seat at comforta
ble angles. Domes of silence at
the four corners of the base make
the chair easy to move.
• • •
NOTE—If you would Ilk* to make a
hooked rug like the one in front of the
fireplace, Mrs. Spears' Add-A-Square pat
tern shows how to hook a rug In small
sections to be sewn together. Ask for
Pattern No. 201, and enclose 10 cents,
Drawer 10
Bedford Hills New York
Enclose 10 cents for pattern No. 201.
Name ...
Address ...
The Soul
About what am I now employ
ing my own soul? On every occa
sion I must ask myself this ques
tion, and inquire, what have I now
in this part of me which they call
the ruling principle? and whose
soul have I now? that of a child,
or a young man, or of a feeble
woman or of a tyrant, or of a
domestic animal, or of a wild
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