Ripe Cherries Make Sweet Jams
(See Recipe Below)
Jelly Season’s Here!
Think of the good cheer in a spar
kling, quivery dish of jelly to go
with your golden
brown biscuits or
rolls in the cold
of winter. Do you
need more than
that to start you
on a spree of jel
ly - making? My
guess is no.
There’s a great interest in jelly
making in spite of sugar rationing,
for many is the smart homemaker
who realizes what a spark and zest
those little bits of bright-colored jel
ly can lend to wartime meals. So,
go out into the berry patch, and
let's get started on a batch of jelly.
Cherries, plums and blackberries
are coming into season and make
splendid jellies. They're all easy to
handle and make nice, rich, luscious
jellies:
•Ripe Sweet Cherry Jam.
(Makes 7 6-oum-e glasses)
314 cups prepared fruit
4 caps sugar
1 box powdered fruit pectin
Tb prepare fruit, pit about 2V4
pounds fully ripe cherries. Crush
thoroughly or grind. If a stronger
cherry flavor is desired, add a few
crushed cherry pits to fruit during
cooking.
Measure sugar into dry dish and
set aside until needed. Measure
fruit into a 5- or 6-quart kettle, fill
ing up last cup with water if neces
sary.
Place over a hot test fire. Add
powdered fruit pectin. Mix well and
continue stirring until mixture
comes to a hard boil. Pour in sugar
at once, stirring constantly. Con
tinue stirring, bringing to a full,
rolling boil and boil hard 1 minute.
Remove from fire. Skim. Pour
at once into sterilized jelly glasses
and paraffin at once.
•Ripe Plum Jelly.
(Makes 7 medium glasses)
3 cups juice
4 cups sugar
1 box powdered fruit pectin
To prepare fruit, crush about 3
pounds fully ripe plums. Do not
peel or pit them. Add % cup wa
ter, bring to a boil and simmer 10
minutes. Place fruit in Jelly bag
or cloth, and squeeze out juice. Add
small amount of water to pulp in
jelly cloth and squeeze again, if
there is a slight shortage of juice.
Measure sugar into dry dish and
set aside. Measure juice into sauce
pan. Place over
hottest fire. Add
powdered fruit
pectin, mix well
and continue stir
ring until mixture
comes to a hard
boil. Pour in sug
ar at once, stir
ring constantly.
I
Your Canning Cupboard
•Ripe Sweet Cherry Jam
•Ripe Plum Jelly
•Cucumber-Raisin Pickles
•Ripe Cucumber Sweet Pickles
•Peach Nectar
•Recipe Given
Continue stirring, bring to a full,
rolling boil, and boil hard ’A minute.
Remove from fire, skim, and pour
into glasses quickly. Paraffin hot
Jelly at once.
Blackberry and Sour Cherry Jam.
(Makes 8 medium glasses)
3) 4 cups prepared fruit
4) 4 cups sugar
1 box powdered fruit pectin
To prepare fruit, crush thorough
ly about 1 quart fully ripe black
berries. Pit 1 pound fully ripe cher
ries. Crush thoroughly or grind.
Combine fruits. Measure fruit into
a kettle, filling last fraction of cup
with water if necessary.
Place over hottest Are. Add pow
dered fruit pectin, mix well and
continue stirring until mixture
comes to a hard boil. Pour sugar
In at once, stirring constantly. Con
tinue stirring, bring to a full rolling
boil, and boil hard 1 minute.
Remove from Are, skim, pour
quickly. Paraffin hot Jam at once.
You’ll enjoy pickles, too, for your
winter menu pickups. I’ve found
some perfectly
delightful recipes
for you which will
not take too much ,
sugar — Just in >
case you want to 1
use most of the '
sugar on jams and jellies. Remem
ber that you must use a pure apple
cider vinegar and good, firm, fresh
cucumbers to get nice, crisp pickles:
•Cucumber-Raisin Pickles.
4 cups sliced cucumbers
1 cup salt
1 cup white vinegar
1 cup sugar
6 tablespoons raisins
1 tablespoon celery seed
1 tablespoon mustard seed
Soak cucumbers overnight in salt
solution made of 1 cup salt to 1
gallon water. Drain. Combine re
maining ingredients and heat to boil
ing. Add cucumbers. Boil 10 min
utes. Pour into sterilized jars and
seal at once. •
•Ripe Cucumber Sweet Picklea.
8 large ripe cucumbers
H pound stick cinnamon or oil
of cinnamon
1 ounce cloves (or oil of cloves)
ltt pints vinegar
3 pounds sugar
Pare the cucumbers, quarter.
Take out seeds and cut quarters into
medium-sized pieces. Scald in salt
ed water (2 tablespoons salt to 1
quart water). Drain and simmer in
clear water until they are tender
but firm. Drain well. Tie the
spices in a bag and boil them with
vinegar and sugar for 5 minutes.
Pour this mixture over cucumbers,
cover jar and set away. Next day
pour off syrup and boil for 10 min
utes, then pour over cucumbers
again. Flavor is improved by re
peating the process several times.
With last heating, place pickles in
clean, sterilized jars, cover with hot
solution and seal at once.
Like fruit drinks for winter? You
can make delicious nectars out of
fruits easily and use them when fresh
fruit juices are no longer available:
•Peach Nectar.
Select sound, ripe fruit. Peel and
crush. Combine 4 cups fruit with
3 cups water and heat slowly to
simmering. Press through colander,
then through fine sieve. To each
pound of fruit pulp and juice, add
% pound of sugar. Bring to sim
mering temperature. Stir until sug
ar is well dissolved. Pour into clean,
sterile jars. Put on cap. Process
30 minutes in a water bath at sim
mering temperature (180 de
grees F).
t
If you have a canning problem, write
to Miss Lynn Chambers, Western News
paper Union, 210 South Desplainee
Street, Chicago, III. Please enclose a
self addressed envelope for your reply.
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
MYJFRIEND ^
'SSW5!*^-v '
%U MARY OHARA
THE STORY SO FAR: Ten-year-old
Ken McLaughlin, given an opportunity to
chooaa any yearling on his family’s Wy
oming ranch, picks the ally of a "loco"
mare. His father, a retired army offi
cer, it disappointed by Ken’s choice
and by his failure at school. When the
ally, Flicka, Is badly hurt trying to Jump
the corral fence, Ken takes the opportu
nity to make friends with the wild little
colt. Captain McLaughlin, who still
thinks Flicka is “loco” spends ten dol
lars for medicine for her and explains to
a surprised Ken that his failure at school
cost Just thirty times that much. He
thinks for the first time of what that
means to his father.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER XV
Ken went to the table, sat down
and propped his head In his hand,
staring down at the red-checked
cloth. It could hardly be believed
that such momentous things could
follow the small misdemeanor of
looking out a window and neglecting
to write a composition.
"If I wrote it now, Mother,” he
said at last.
“Well, I told you to do that, a
month ago,” said Nell. "Have you
done it?”
"No.”
"Have you even thought of it
again?"
"No—not since when Dad said he
wouldn't make me do the study.”
“You might do it of your own ac
cord,” said Nell, writing on her list
"He does things for you of his own
accord—”
"I know—that's it. Mother, do you
think if I wrote it, Mr. Gibson would
take me back in my own grade?”
Nell put down her pencil and pa
per, and sat back on her knees.
"Kennie, you write the composition,
'The Story of Gypsy’; and I’ll write
him a letter, explaining. And we’ll
send them to him. And perhaps
when school opens, he may decide
to let you try again.”
The fine weather still held. And
because it was due to break any
time, McLaughlin decided to hire a
crew of six extra men, and get the
haying done in three weeks, instead
of taking on only a couple of extra
hands and letting the work run
through September.
Ken and Howard thought it was
fun to eat in the kitchen- with the
hay crew. The men stamped in at
meal time, with clean washed faces
and hands, and freshly slicked hair.
The proximity of the two towns,
Cheyenne to the east, and Laramie
to the west, made the men restless.
They could hear the transcontinental
busses out on the Lincoln Highway;
and the moment they had a few dol
larji in their pockets, they were in a
fever to spend them.
Other things happened. One day
the biggest hay wagon, fully loaded,
was turned too sharply by the driv
er, and tipped over.
Another day, when McLaughlin
had gone to town, the men tried to
get the baler across the creek in
Castle Rock Meadow, bridging it by
means of a few heavy boards laid
across. They foundered the heavy
machine in the mud of one of the
banks and failed to get it out during
a whole morning of sweating and
shouting and cursing.
McLaughlin had neither the time
nor patience to help Ken with Flicka.
Or, thought Ken, was it because she
had cost him that ten dollars for the
serum that he was so short and
irritable?
When Ken bothered him to know
what he should do next with the filly,
McLaughlin roared, “Oh, do any
thing with her you want! Lead her
around. Get her used to the cor
rals and the stables.”
So Ken led the filly by the halter
and lead rope. Into the pens and
corrals, up through the Gorge into
the horse corrals where she had
been caught. When he first tried to
get her through the door of the sta
ble, she halted, and Ken did not
force her. He stood at the door with
her, and finally left her there and
went in alone and poured some oats
into the manger for her. That did
the trick. She walked in of her own
accord, and when she had eaten her
oats, became curious and investigat
ed every corner of the barn. To
gether they made the rounds, Ken
at her head, discussing what they
saw.
Everyone on the ranch got used
to the sight of the boy leading the
little golden mare around. She used
three legs, and held up the fourth.
The wound on the foreleg was hard
and swollen, but did not seem to pain
her.
Both the boys had to spend part
of each day in the haying field. There
were many ways in which they could
be of assistance. When the hay was
being tossed from the little piles into
the hay wagon, to be carried to the
big stack and dumped there, the
boys could stand in the wagon,
tramping the hay down, and dis
tributing it with pitchforks, so that
it would load more evenly. There
was endless running of errands and
fetching and carrying to be done on
Highboy and Cigarette.
Howard spent the whole day with
the hay crew; but Ken, when he
was let off, hurried back to Flicka
j in her nursery.
He was beginning to have a feel
I ing of pressure. Here it was al
most September—school began the
fifteenth—only a couple of weeks
more to spend with Flicka. Stand
ing at the Ally’s head, so he could
talk to her and look into her eyes,
he thought about it and it was ap
palling. Why, the whole summer
was gone! Back in school soon, with
out Flicka, living apart from her for
many, months, not seeing her, not
even knowing what she was doing,
how she was looking, what she was
learning—bad tricks or good—
Ken knew that he had to take it
like a man. It was part of the price
he paid for Flicka. There was also
the composition. He was writing it.
He brought his copybook down to
Flicka’s nursery and sat on the side
of the little hill between the trunks
of the cottonwood trees and worked
at it, and read bits of it aloud to
her. It needed to be only a few
pages long. Making it up was not
hard, there was plenty to say, but it
was hard to get the spelling right,
and the punctuation. When it was
finished, he would copy it at the
desk in his room so that the pen
manship would be perfect.
“This,” he said proudly to Flicka,
“is a three-hundred-dollar composi
tion, Flicka. Dad gave you to me,
Flicka, and I’m giving him three
hundred dollars. So, you could say,
I’m paying for you—that’s a pretty
good price for a little yearling filly
—but I’ll have to take ten dollars oil
that, for the shot of serum—”
Sitting nibbling the end of his pen
cil, his thoughts concerned with
"The Story of Gypsy,” his eyes were
on Flicka, and it seemed to him that
her ribs were showing. It was the
first time he had noticed that She
ate her oats, she grazed, but she
certainly was thinner than when she
had been brought in oft the range,
“That's why—who’s running this
ranch?”
thinner even than she had been a
week or two ago.
He spoke about It to his father.
Rob glared at him. “Do you give
her oats twice a day?”
“Sure.”
“Does she clean ’em up?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then.”
“But Dad—would you come and
look at her?”
“No! Don’t bother me about her!”
Ken went back to Flicka and his
copybook and pencil. But when he
looked at her, his eyes were trou
bled. The wounds seemed neither
better nor worse; hard and dry and
somewhat swollen; but certainly, she
had lost flesh.
Everyone is thin, thought Ken, aft
er an illness. And Flicka had been
ill a long time. She would pick up
gradually, the way grown people did,
when her sickness was quite over.
Besides the wounds, there was that
thing his father had said—an infec
tion of the blood-stream. That
means she was sick all the way
through. She had a lot to get over.
Nell was counting the days until
the hay crop should be in, the hay
ing crew gone, and she would have
time to breathe again. She lived in
the hot kitchen, or in the car, driv
ing back and forth to town for sup
plies.
When supper was over and the
dishes washed, she had a few hours
for herself. She would have a tub
ful of water waiting for her upstairs;
would run up, slip off her kitchen
smock and step into the water, then
dress in fresh clothes—her cool gray
linen slacks and blouse, and wander
off alone into the woods for refresh
ment and solitude.
One night she decided to go up to
the Stable Pasture, her favorite
haunt. At the last moment, think
ing of the meals for the next day, it
occurred to her that a fricassee of
cottontails would be nice for a
change. So she took one of the
twenty-twos out of the gun-rack in
the dining room, filled the pocket of
her slacks with shells, and headed
for the Stable Pasture.
An hour later she came hurrying
back through the Gorge. Her face
was very white and the pupils of
her eyes distended. She cast a
glance over her shoulder, then
stopped and half turned and peered
into the darkness that was gathering
between the cliffs and under the
aspen. Though there was nothing
of a frightening nature to be seen
she whirled and broke into a run,
calling. ‘‘Rob!"
There was a tremor of hysterical
excitement in her voice, as with
head turning constantly to look over
her shoulder, her feet flew down
the path.
"Rob!" she called again, “The
wildcat!" Then, reaching the edge
of the Green, she pulled up short.
Rob was standing some distance off,
bawling out Tim. He had not heard
her, and Nell tried to assume a
calmer demeanor. It would not do
to appear before Tim in near-hys
terics.
She went quietly toward them,
anxious to reach Rob, to get hold of
his hand, or at least to stand close
beside him until he should be
through talking to Tim. She was
ashamed of her fright but could not
control the pounding of her heart or
the trembling of her hands. When
she had told Rob all about it, she
would feel better, she thought.
But she stopped before reaching
them, because Rob was shouting,
"When I tell you to pasture the cows
In Seventeen I don't mean Sixteen."
Tim’s face was crimson. "The
Missus told me to put them in Six
teen, Captain."
Nell stood there with the little gun
in her hand, looking from one to the
other, the wind gone out <}f her sails.
"Did you tell Tim to put the cows
into Sixteen?” shouted Rob.
It was a relief to her taut nerves
to whip back at him, “I did. Any
reason why I shouldn’t?”
“I’ll say there’s a reason,” he
bawled. “I told him to put them
in Seventeen. That’s why—who’s
running this ranch?”
Angrily Nell answered, "One of
the cows is coming in heat and I
don’t want her bred by that Here
ford bull over the fence from num
ber Seventeen on Crosby’s land. That
happened last year. We had a mixed
Hereford and Guernsey calf—it’s not
going to happen again.”
“Whose business is it to give or
ders to the men?” roared Rob.
“The cows are my job; always
have been.”
“You tell me what you want and
I’ll give the orders!”
Several of the haying crew were
seated on the bench outside the bunk
house. They could see and hear all
that was going on.
Nell’s eyes filled with angry tears.
“I’ll give any orders about the cows
I want!”
She turned and ran into the house,
sobbing with fury; because of the
fright she had had; because Rob was
in a nasty mood and she couldn’t
tell him about the wildcat; because
he had humiliated her before the
men; and because she had made
the mistake of shouting back at him.
“Never any use,” she muttered as
she rushed upstairs, “just makes
him snarl louder—”
She pulled off her slack suit and
began to dress for town.
A moment later she heard Rob’s
voice in the living room, shouting,
“Nell!”
She did not answer, but slipped on
a green silk print, then zipped it
up, stopping to wipe the tears from
her face again.
“Nell!”
She perched on the edge of the
stool before her dressing table and
hastily smoothed and arranged her
hair, determined not to answer.
“Nell!”
“What!” Rob could always whip
an answer out of her, even against
her will.
He came stamping upstairs and
stood at the door looking at her.
Just because he should have been
surprised to see her dressing for
town at that hour of the night, he
said nothing. She volunteered the
explanation.
“I’m going to town,” she said
defiantly. “I can’t stand it here
another minute. I’m going to a
movie.”
There was silence, while she fin
ished arranging her hair. Then Rob
said, "It's quite cold. You’ll need a
coat. What one will you wear?”
"The light green plaid.”
He went to the closet, hunted in
it till he found the coat, took it
down from the hanger and was hold
ing it for her when she was ready
to put it on.
"Got your hanky? And some mon
ey?"
“Yes—Oh, wait, I don’t think I’ve
got any money.”
Rob got his wallet out of the coat
he had last worn to town and put
some bills into her purse.
He followed her downstairs and
out to the car, took the whisk broom
out of the car-pocket and cleaned
the seat befpre he’d let her get in.
Nell took her seat, her lips set,
her eyes determinedly turned away
from him. If he asks me now if
I love him I’ll slap his face. She
wished he would.
He hesitated at the open door aft
er she had taken her seat and start
ed the engine. Then he stepped
back, closed the door and stuck his
head through the open window.
“Don’t forget to fill up with gas in
town.”
Nell made no reply, waiting, with
exaggerated patience, till he should
withdraw his head and let her go.
"And don’t drive too fast” He
stood back.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
ON THE
HOME FRONT/
jflf RUTH WYETH SPEARS X ,
dlflrcoTTor^
Mp BASTED
Ito muslin
BACK AND SEAT OP |
COMPOSITION BOARD'S?
OR PLYWOOD NAILED :
TO FRAME OF LUMBER"'
'T'HERE is no reason that you
should do without smart look
ing upholstered chairs while you
are awaiting the day that you will
have the living room furniture
that you have always dreamed
about. Scraps of lumber and ply
wood or even old packing boxes
may be used to make simple chair
frames and there are no priori
ties on cotton padding and sturdy
cotton covering materials.
A simple frame for a chair of
this type is shown here. It is pad
ded with cotton batting basted to
pieces of unbleached muslin cut
The Questions
1. What is the candle power of
the sun?
2. What verse in the Bible con
tains nearly all letters of the al
phabet?
3. Who spread his coat down for
his queen, and who was the queen?
4. What people regard Apis the
Bull as sacred?
5. Carrie Nation carried on most
of her saloon smashing crusades
in what state?
6. Acadia, the land of Evange
line, became what province of
Canada?
7. Who uses a garrote?
- j
The Answers
1. Sunlight is equal to the power
of 1,575,000,000,000,000,000,000 can
dles, according to Flammarion.
2. Ezra 8:21, contains all ex
cept J.
3. Sir Walter Raleigh and Queen
Elizabeth.
4. Egyptians.
5. Kansas.
8. Nova Scotia.
7. An executioner.
The gaily enameled unit insignia
you see on a soldier’s lapels and
overseas cap are reproductions of
his regimental shield displayed in
the center of the eagle on his reg
imental flag. It’s a part of U. S.
Army tradition. Traditional, too,
is the Army man’s preference for
Camel cigarettes. (Based on actual
sales records from service men’s
own stores.) It’s a gift from the
folks back home, that always
rates cheers. And though there are
Post Office restrictions on pack
ages to overseas Army men, you
can still send Camels to soldiers
in the U. S., and to men in the
Navy, Marines, and Coast Guard
wherever they are.—Adv.
to fit the back and well ever the
sides of the seat. A separate cush
ion filled with cotton, down or
feathers is then made for the seat*
Either plain or figured material
with contrasting seam welting
may be used for covering.
• • •
NOTE—Mrs. Spears has prepared de
tailed dimensions and directions for mak
ing this chair frame. Pattern also gives
step-by-step directions for covering the
frame after it has been padded. Ask far
Pattern 250 and enclose 15 cents. Address:
MRS. RUTH WYETH SPEARS
Bedford Hills New York.
Drawer IS
Enclose 15 cents for Pattern No.
250.
Name....
Address..
ITflflNn Soothe with Morgan*, for
merly Mexican Heat Pbw
OF MINOR der — cooling, medicated.
SKIN IRRITATIONS
Mosquitoes Prefer Animals
A recent study by federal ento
mologists shows that mosquitoes* i
when given a choice, prefer the
blood of cattle, horses, hogs and
dogs to that of human beings.
/’Y00 WOMEN WHO SUFFER FR0M%
HOT FLASHES
If you suffer from hot flashes, dizzi
ness, distress of "Irregularities’*, are
weak, nervous. Irritable, blue at
times—-due to the functional
"middle-age” period in a woman’s
life—try Lydia E. Plnkham’s Vege
table Compound—the best-known
medicine you can buy today that's
made especially for women.
Pinkham’s Compound has helped
thousands upon thousands of wom
en to reUeve such annoying symp
toms. Follow label directions. Pink
ham's Compound is worth, trying!
N. _-/
Mockingbird’s Tunes
The mockingbird, state bird of
Florida, has been known to change
its tune 87 times in seven minutes.
CONSTIPATION
HAUNTED ME
It hung on and on. Medici
nal laxatives relieved it only
temporarily.
Then—I found my con
stipation was due to lack of
"bulk” in my diet. And I
also found out that
KELLOGG’S ALL-BRAN gets at
the cause of such constipa
tion and corrects it.
Boy, what I’d been miss
ing before I tried all-bran!
It’s a swell-tasting break
fast cereal—and, as far as
my constipation was con
cerned, it sure worked.
I eat all-bran regularly
now and drink plenty of
water. And - I’ve "Joined
the Regulars”! Made by
Kellogg’s in Battle Creek.
v A
Hard Workers
Hard workers are usually hon
est. Industry lifts them above
temptation.—Bovee.
IN THE NAVY they say:
“CAULK OFF" for take a nap
"SHOVE OFF for depart
PIG for torpedo plane
"CAMEL" for the favorite cigarette
with men in the Navy
F/RSF
/At THE SERV/CE<|
The favorite cigarette with men
in the Navy, Army, Marines,
and Coast Guard is Camel.
(Based on actual sales records.)
L «•: *£££*• i
” «%L,
