Benita
Bellefonte, Pa., September 25, 1925.
EEE"
THE ROAD OF HAPPINESS.
Across the rolling hills of life
A friendly highway leads,
A road whose every wondrous mile
Is paved with noble deeds.
For any man this course begins
Where will and judgment meet,
‘Where solemn purpose points the way
And kindness guides his fee’.
This highway is the only road
That leads to great success,
' No other trail, no sidelong path
‘Will find true happiness.
Though up and down its route may run
It carries straight and far
And gains at last that haven where
Life's great possessions are.
The youth who sets a worthy goal
And formulates a plan
Of progress that enables him
To serve his fellow man
Begins at once to know the joys
That glorify and bless
The lives of those who daily walk
The Road of Happiness.
—O. Lawrence Hawthorne.
CROSSING THE
RAILROAD BRIDGE.
Neal Lindsay heard the first ring of ;
the telephone bell. He sprang from ,
bed, not waiting to light a lamp, but
snatching the bathrobe that hung over
a chair. In the intense darkness the
vouth unhesitatingly made his way
through the connecting door into his
father’s office.
“Hope it didn’t wake mother,” he
thought as his hand went out in the
gloom to seize the telephone receiver.
“Hello! Doctor Lindsay’s office. Oh,
you dad?” unconsciously raising his
voice a little because of the beating of
the rain against the windows.
“Yes, son. I'm still at the Blanch-
ard’s. It’s appendicitis, Neal. I must
operate on Mr. West as soon as I can.”
“Operate? But, dad, your instru-
ments are here. You want me to bring
them to you?”
“That’s it, Neal. And Sycamore
bridge is out.”
“Out? Why, how—It’s the rail-
road bridge for me, dad?”
There was the briefest pause before
the voice of Doctor Robert Lindsay,
long the trusted physician of that
mountain region, replied to the ques-
tion asked by his son. No matter how
carefully the trip was planned it con-
tained an element of danger. To cross
the river on the railroad bridge, in
the storm and darkness might mean !
danger to Neal, his only child.
© “What did you say, dad ?” :
“Yes, lad. You know what you are |
to bring—the brown case. Be sure the :
ether bottle is full. Now listen close- ;
ly, and, Neal, do just as I tell you.”
“Yes, father.” The youth’s voice |
was touched with a sense of resolu- |
tion that reassured his father. Neal |
understood. : i
“I’ve telephoned to the station and
found out about the trains. There are |
no extras out tonight and no laggers. |
The western-bound local passed an!
hour ago. At seven minutes after |
three the express going east is due to |
cross the bridge. I think you will be |
over before that time, but when you |
reach the bridge, if it lacks ten min- |
utes or less of the time the train is
due, you wait until it comes.” i
“It may be late tonight.” |
“I know. We will take no chances |
though. Promise me, son.” i
In turn the young man waited, but '
only for a moment. His reply came, |
earnest, confident. “I promise, dad. '
And I'll not tell mother about the |
going out of Sycamore bridge.” i
It did not take Neal long to dress
and wake his mother. He explained |
his going to her and then made sure !
that the case he was to carry was in|
readiness for use. He suspended it,
by a stout strap, over his shoulder.
Putting a big flashlight in his rain-
coat pocket the youth let himself out
of the front door into the storm and
the night.
The autumn gale had been raging
for two days. As Neal turned his face
towards the hills which bounded the
little hamlet of Cranton, the wind
lashed his face with the cold rain. He
threw back his head; there was a bit
of enjoyment in the spirit with which
he faced a struggle with the elements.
Doctor Lindsay’s work led him far
and wide among the hill folk. Eigh-
teen months before a minister had
come to work among the same people.
The Reverend Horace West was an old
man, bowed with trouble rather than
with years. He came from-a city a
hundred miles away. It was reported
that failing health obliged him to give
up the big church he had so long serv-
ed. To the illiterate, lonely mountain
people he brought a message of love
and faith. Notwithstanding his slen-
der store of strength he went to and
fro, penetrating into depths where no
minister's voice had ever been heard.
All came to honor and to love him;
his influence was for-reaching.
Mr. West made his home with a
family by the name of Blanchard.
They lived near the village, just
across West river. The Blanchards,
while retaining many of the customs
of the mountaineers, had a comforta-
ble home. Early the day before Doc-
tor Lindsay had been called there to
attend Mr. West. The case seemed so
serious that the physician went back
in the late afternoon, to spend the
night.
“And now it is an operation for him.
I hope the good old man will pull
through,” Neal thought as he plodded
on, buffeted by the wind, drenched by
the falling rain.
When at last he reached the rail-
road bridge he paused before walking
out on it. In summer West River was
a shallow, slowly moving trickle. Just
then, swollen by the prolonged rain-
fall, it was a raging torrent. It’s roar
filled Neal’s ears, as he stopped, to
cast the light of his electric torch
downward.
The flood was some distance below
the stout bridge. There was little dan-
ger, at least for one with a clear head
and a stout heart. Neal flashed the
light upon the face of his wrist watch.
“Five minutes to three. I've still
two minutes to spare on dad’s time
limit,” and he ran lightly forward
the flashlight in his hand.
Because of the beating rain, the
howling wind, and the rushing water,
Neal did not hear the agonized cries
that rose from near the other end of
the bridge.
struggling, screaming figure before
he was aware of his presence.
“What is it? hy, what is
wrong ?” Neal cried. :
“Help me. For God’s sake help me!
When I was almost over the bridge I
slipped on the wet ties, and my foot
went down between two of them. 1
can’t get it out. When is there a train
due?
Neal was already on his knees by
the unfortunate fellow, investigating
the imprisoned foot by the aid of his
torch. At that last question the
youth’s head reeled. Unless the train
had been delayed, the danger was
near, pressing.
“It’s your shoe that’s caught,” he
announced. And I reckon those two
ties are the only ones on the bridge
far enough apart for your foot to go
between. Have you a knife?”
“No, and I couldn’t get my hand
down to cut the shoe off, if I had.”
From his pocket Neal took a stout
knife. He found it impossible to get
his hand, holding the knife, through
the opening. He might be able to man-
age it after a little, but there was no
time to lose.
“I say
trains?” the other ‘inquired.
must not risk your life for me.”
“There’s time, if I can get at your
“You
foot. Once your shoe is off, you can
make it easily. Here. You hold the
flashlight, while I reach down under.
I'm sure I can get at it that way.”
“But that’s a risk for you. I'm not;
sure but the best way will be to hack
off my foot. Dying would not be much
worse than going through life erip-
pled, but it would be such a horrid
death. And then I was on my way to
make my peace with—"
He broke off abruptly. Neal heard
him without paying much attention to
his words. He had thrown himself
down on the bridge. With his left
hand he clung to the iron rail while
with his right he siashed at the shoe
of the captive.
“Here! T’ll take a grip on your leg.
And Ill not let you fall. Hurry!
Never mind if you do cut my foot.
Heavenly Father, help us!”
Neal struggled on. In the uncer-
tain light he saw blood on his knife.
Would he never get the foot free?
And just below him the flood raged.
He was trying to pull the shoe while
at the same time he clutched the knife,
when, from out of the gloom, came a
sound that he recognized—the whistle
of an engine. It was still some dis-
tance away, but each passing second
brought it nearer.
Neal braced himself for a mighty
effort. He did not heed the other’s de-
mand for him to make his own safety
assured. In a desperate slash at the
leather, the knife slipped from his
| hand. He tried to recover it, and, for
a single moment thought he was
Then he caught the shoe in his hand
and tore it away. The sock followed.
Working the foot back and forth he
called:
“Steady To the
There!” :
He had won. When the foot was
free, the rescued youth, who had never
now! right!
' loosened his grip on Neal's leg, made ;
no effort to rise until the other was on
his feet.
“Lend me a hand; I'm a bit stiff. I
—1I owe my life to you.”
“Don’t let us waste time, talking.
Come on,” and, pulling his companion
along, Neal raced across the remain-
ing space of the bridge, not halting
i until he felt the solid earth beneath
his feet. .
Almost at once the long, lighted ex-
press train came sweeping along. Its
speed was slackened for the passage
across the bridge. The two young
men, seated on the wet grassy river
bank waited in silence until it had dis-
appeared from sight. Then the stran-
ger laid his hand upon that of Neal.
“Thank you. Even now I don’t like
to think of the passage of that train,
had not God sent you to cross the
bridge.”
Neal started, recalling his errand.
In a moment he was on his feet. “I
think I am on His errand. In this
case are my doctor father’s instru-
ments. He must operate on an old
minister, a saintly old man, as soon as
he can get them. It’s not far. Can
you walk with one shoe? And your
bare foot is bleeding.”
“That does not matter; the cuts are
little more than scratches. I can walk
faster with both feet bare,” and has-
tily he pulled off the other shoe.
The rain was lessening; overhead
the clouds parted. Looking up Neal
saw a single pale star. He threw back
his head with the olden confidence as
he turned his face from the river.
“Somehow I have a strange feeling,
as if we were brought together for a
purpose. Where were you going 7”
“I was looking for my father. Two
years ago, like a reckless fool, I ran
away from home, ‘to see the world.” I
knocked about in the West, writing to
my father only at intervals of months
and never waiting in any place for a
reply. Then I resolved to go home,
and I had to work hard for months, to
earn decent clothes and money enough
to bring me to Leesville.”
“Is there where your father lives?
But you were going away from it.”
“I reached there thirty-six hours
ago, to learn that my father had given
up his pastorate, broken in health by
my desertion. He’s up in the hills,
preaching and proving the truth of
what he preaches by his daily life. I
had no money, so 1 started out to
tramp until I found him. And I—
well, my need to see him became so
urgent that I went on and on, through
storm and darkness.”
“See here. Are you the son of the
Reverend Horace West?”
“Yes, his son Donald. You don’t
mean that it is my father who—"
“I do. And he’s bad. Dad always
says half in going through an opera-
tion is courage. Perhaps you can give
your father that.”
“I robbed him of it, by my neglect.
Heaven help us! I deserved to have
the wheels of that train grind out my
miserable life.”
Neal shook the other's arm savage-
ly. “Now don’t pose. Be a man, for
He was almost on the
do you know about the
your father’s sake. Why, he has giv-
en his strength, his very life to those
poor mountaineers. There! That’s
father.”
i Doctor Lindsay met his son at the
door. “I was getting a bit uneasy.
‘When the train went by, I said to my-
self, ‘Neal always keeps his promise.’
Now who is this?”
I “It’s Mr. West’s son, dad. He is
looking for his father whom he hasn’t
“seen for two years.”
| Doctor Robert Lindsay scowled. His
eyes narrowed in the light of a leap-
ing fire and flaring candles. “Well,
| young man, it’s time. Grief and wor-
‘ry are largely responsible for the ex-
hausted condition that makes the out-
come of this operation, which must
“be, uncertain. I am glad you are
“here.”
I “Let me tell you how I came to be
here. Your son saved my life.”
Before he finished his story, Doctor
Lindsay interrupted him. The strong
man’s face had paled a little. If Neal,
in his effort to save another had tar-
ried too long on the bridge! “Well, I
must begin at once; delay increases
the danger. Mrs. Blanchard will ad-
minister the ether; she has nursed the
country for years. See here, West?”
“Yes, Doctor Lindsay.”
“I am going to let you goin for
three minutes with your father, be-
‘fore I begin. If anything can give
him the desire to live that he needs,
the sight of your face will do it. I
know, because I am a father.
tell him about the bridge.”
Neal was hurried away by one of
the many young Blanchards, for dry
‘clothes. All the household, save the
| little children were awake, vitally in-
terested, prodigal with sympathy and
readiness to help. They gathered in
the kitchen, to await the outcome of
the task the skillful brown hands of
the physician were to do. ‘Lucy, the
eldest daughter of the house, went
about, with quick, noiseless steps, lay-
ing out the fresh clothing, sending her
brothers for dry wood and to the
spring for cool water, putting coffee
to steep, and slicing bacon.
Time dragged. Slowly, as if with
reluctance, a dull gray morning light
crept over the earth. The Blanchard
boys went to the barn. In a chimney
corner Donald West sat, his head bow-
eq in his hands. As Lucy passed Neal
she stopped, to say:
“Drop down cn the lounge, until
breakfast is ready, Neal. You look so
tired.”
“Now I believe I will. I'm not
sleepy, but somehow I am done out.”
Notwithstanding that statement, he
was sound asleep in five minutes. With
healthy youth’s disregard of surround-
ings, he slept on for two hours. When
he did wake, it was to sit up with a
start, at first unable to realize where
he was.
Outside the window near him the
sloping hillside was flooded with sun-
shine. Above arched a cloudless sky.
‘He caught a glimpse of the river
‘ wheve, at the base of the hill, it wid-
"ened and grew shallow. Then he
| going over the edge of the bridge. turned, to look around the room.
Apparently part of the family had
breakfasted, but Lucy was deftly
turning well-browned cakes, while her
| younger sister May was singing over
: the dishwashing. From an adjoining
| room came the low, confident tones of
: Neal’s father. Even as the young
! man rose to his feet, a door opened,
and Donald West strode into the room.
“Hello, old man!” Neal called. “No
need to ask you how it is; your face
tells the story.”
“It’s all right, thanks to you and
your father. He’s coming fine, my
father I mean. I’ll spend my life, try-
ing to prove my gratitude to you all.”
“0 stop that—talking about it I
mean. I want a good wash and some
of Lucy’s cakes. Good morning, dad.
If it’s not too late, I'd like my break-
fast with you. Somehow I just begin
to understand about fathers.”
Vacuum Storage Preserves Fur.
discovered by a St. Louis storage man.
An experimental room has been built
in which rugs and other household
frites are stored. The air is
then partly exhausted, with the result
that all insect life, such as moths, is
ly, as there is little oxygen in the air.
walls eight inches thick and built of
‘non-porous concrete. Glass peepholes
are arranged on two sides for study-
ing the effect of the vacuum on insect
and animal life. A steel door is pro-
vided with special hinges and four
screws with handles are used to hold
the door securely until the air exhaus-
tion begins. After a partial vacuum
tight from outside air pressure that
Scientific American. .
Mexican Dogs Run Faster than Trains
There are dogs in Mexico which out-
run trains and, in fact, go with them
most of the way to Vera Cruz from
the capital. This is an over night
journey.
The dogs, as wild as any coyote, fol-
low the trains as some fish follow
steamers. When a train stops pas-
the dogs.
A dog fancier noticed that he saw
precisely the same dogs at almost
every stop the train made. He decid-
ed to investigate and learned that
while the train was taking a circuit-
ous route over the mountains the dogs
were taking a short Indian trail and
were invariably waiting for the train
upon its arrival.
Tagging the Trees.
A western dealer furnishes red tags
to hunters which carry on one side a
plea for clean sportsmanship, says
Good Hardware.
These Jags are taken out by hunt-
ers and tied on the trees. The reverse
side may be used by the hunter on
which to write a message.
If the hunter is to meet a friend in
the woods, the game lures him away
from the spot, he leaves a red tag,
making new plans for the meeting.
The farmers,
interest of their fences and woods.
unable to exist. Mice also die quick-
Blanchards’ where we will find your
Don’t
New Yorker's Act of
Courtesy Was Wasted
He is a New Yorker distinguished
for his unfailing courtesy. It has be-
come second nature to him to do the
right and kind thing. Strangely
enough, ‘he is also given to moments
of absorption in which externals reg-
{ster only automatically upon his con-
sciousness. Frequently, in his home-
ward walks, he becomes so occupied
with his own thoughts that he is in a
world quite apart from that which is
worrying past him. However, the In-
stinct of courtesy remains, no matter
how preoccupied he may be.
He was strolling homeward an eve-
ning or two ago. lost in reverie. The
people who went by were merely gray
shapes, a flutter on the screen he dim-
ly saw out of the tail of his eye.
One shape came toward him, a
vague thing. one of many. As It
reached a point abreast of him he saw
something white flutter from it to the
sidewalk. To his engrossed mind that
meant only one thing, that someone
dropped something, and the someone a
woman, as they are the ones who most
often drop things. Courtesy demanded
that he stoop and pick it up and re
turn fit.
For just one instant he emerged
from his preoccupation, stooped and:
picked up the white thing he had seen
flutter down. He proffered it to the
young woman, and then. all of a sud-
den. realized he was handing her »
woolly white dog!
“Thanks ever so much” she sald,
“put 1 intended to let him down for #
little run.”
And Mr. Courtesy raised his hat, and
passed on and back into his reverie.—
New York Evening World.
Belief in Horseshoes
Traced to the Druids
The idea that it Is lucky to find a
tiorseshoe is regarded by authorities on
folklore as a Druidical survival.
The superstition is peculiar to re
gions where Druidism once flourished,
and the Druidical places of worship, as
exemplified by Stonehenge, made their
inner circle of stones a broken or open
one.
The idea that a horseshoe brings the
best luck when you find it lying with
the points toward you—the sacred in-
ner circle open to you, as it were—
also bears upon this theory.
Druidism passed. but the supersti-
tion outlasts empires and religions. and
when horseshoes became common the
supersitious found ready at hand a
representation of the ancient symbol of
the broken circle. The idea that in
attaching the symbol to the house the
points should be up had a Druidical
signification which has been lost. Peo-
ple nowadays say it is “to prevent the
luck running out.”
Architectural Gems
Besides Wolsey’s great hall and
kitchen, Christ churgh, Oxford, boasts
two of the iinest ‘English examples
of the Gothic style of architecture,
both built more than a century after
Gothic became merely a historical
term. One of these, the stairway to
the hall, was designed In 1640 by a
genius known only as “Smith of Lon-
don.” ;
The other, Tom tower, carrying the
Great Tom bell which every night
rings 101 peals to announce the clos-
ing of college gates, was designed
by Christopher Wren, architect of St.
Paul's, in one of the few happy mo-
ments when he really sensed the feel-
ing of medieval builders.
{
A novel use for a vacuum has been |
The room is 8 by 8 by 8 feet with
has been created the door is drawn so |
no locks or fastenings are needed.—
Read as Death Beckoned
A reader asks whether we know
which work of Voltaire it was that
was found on Sargent's deathbed. We
don’t. But it may interest him and
others to know that Tennyson died
with his Shakespeare open at “Cym-
beline” ; Macaulay when he was found
dead In his library had a number of
the Cornhill magazine before him,
open at the first chapter of Thack-
eray’s “Lovel the Widower.” Mark
Twain with almost the last effort of
his mind turned to Carlyle’s “French
Revolution.”—W. Orton Tewson in the
New York Evening Post.
{ Groundless Fear
Some persons dread to take an anes-
thetic because they fear they will talk
in their sleep. This is largely a myth,
' gays Dr. Floyd Troutman Romberger,
an anesthetist, who is a contributor to
: Hygela, health magazine published by
too, - appreciate the
message which the card carries in the '
the American Medical association.
Under modern methods of inducing
anesthetic sleep, consciousness is lost
go rapidly that the patient does not
have time to say anything. When he
is coming to, he usually is so drowsy
sengers always throw bits of food to , that he does not care to talk.
Had Gone Far Enough
A married couple were knocked
down by a motorcar. The car dashed
away. The police arrived and found
the couple bursting with indignation.
“Do you know the number of the
car?” asked the policeman.
“Yes,” replied the husband; “by a
strange coincidence the first two num-
bers formed my age and the second
two the age of my wife.”
“John,” sald the wife, “we will let
the matter drop at once.”
Italian State Railways
One hundred million passengers
rode on the Italian state railways dur-
ing last year, according to pStatistics
recently issued. They paid an aggre
gate fare of 1,400,000,000 lire. Eighty-
six per cent of the passengers traveled
third clases, 12 per cent second-class
and only 2 per cent first class.
May Have Come Upon
Lost Mo/mon Trails
Curious old rock trails recently di~
covered have caused the California
State Historical society to launch ab
extended research into the routes oi
early day highways in the belief thai
the evidences found are those of the
lost Mormon trails which more than |
a half century ago connected Utal
with the Pacific southwest, according,
to the New York World.
More than 60 years ago San Bernur
dino, 22 miles soutli of Lake Arrow-
head, was a Mormon village, planned
after Salt Lake City, and to the south-
west oOx-cuart caravans creaked their
picturesque way along the monotonous
journey.
What is now known as Lake Arrow-
head was at that time a rugged. moun-
tainous section with rushing streams.
The lost trails are believed to have
traversed this section, With the com-.
ing of settlers, the mountain streains
were stemmed and Little Bear luke
came Into existence.
earth-filled dam 1,300 feet wide at the
base, with a capacity of 775 acres of
water, created Lake Arrowhead.
In the virgin forest of oak, cedar
and fir surrounding the present lake
old roads wind through the trees to
the water's edge, where they disap-
pear to emerge again on the opposite
side of the lake.
The historical research workers be-
lieve these trails once traversed the
former mountain siopes and merged
with the old Arrowhead trail in the
desert, near Victorville and Hesperiu
Holidays in Brazil
Come Thick and Fast
The man who covets numerous holi-
days should move to Brazil. According
to a work issued by a trust company
of New York, “Bank and Public Holi-
days Throughout the World,” Brazit
e._joys eleven public holidays, and aug-
ments this allowance by many unofti-
cial holidays which are generally ob-
served. Starting well off the mark
on January 1, with New Year's day
there is an interval for work until the
6th, which is Epiphany. Follows a
period of hard slogging until the 20th,
when the state of Rio downs tools.
Another state follows suit on the 25th,
and still another on the 27th, which
is the last holiday in January. Most
months are like that in Brazil. In
fuct one or two rionths—such as April
—are still more bountifully ‘provided
| with holidays.
Welcome Stranger
A distinguished westerner, subject
to severe attacks of indigestion, was
traveling with his wife. Late one
night in a pullman, he was seized
with an attack. His wife slipped on
a kimono and hurried to the washroom
to prepare a mustard plaster. She
rushed back hastily threw aside the
i curtains, opened his pajamas and ap-
plied the plaster securely before she
discovered Yt wasn’t her husband, but
a Strange man, She fled horrified to
the right berth and told her husband,
who went into such fits of laughter
that his indigestion was cured. Ir
they tried to take off the plaster they
would awaken the stranger. To avoid
a difficult explanation they decided
just to leave it on.
At 6 a. m. there was a terrific roar
from the stranger’s berth. “Porter,”
he howled, “who the h—I put a porcu-
pine in my bed!”—Everybody’s Maga-
zne,
Origin of the Clock
The first clock, according to Harry
C. Brearly, was produced about 900
A. D. by Gerbert, the monk, who was
the most accomplished scholar of the
age. At that time the monks were
the only people of learning to whom
marking off of a day's time was sig-
nificant. They used bells to mark off
the various periods of the day, much
as some churches dc today. The
sounding of the ancient bells was de-
pended upon by all the people and
that is why the word ‘clock” was
taken from the French word “cloche,”
which means “bell.” At the close of
the Thirteenth century a clock was
set up in St. Paul's cathedral in Lon-
don, and in 1581 Galileo, an Italian
youth, discovered the primciple of the
pendulum.
Famous Knights Rare
In British history there are literally
thousands of men who have been
dubbed knights, but in history the
number who stand out as really fa-
mous are few. Among those accorded
real fame by Sir Willlam Bull, author
of “Knightage,” are: Drake, Sidney,
Grenville, Raleigh, Frobisher and
Hawking among the more ancient and
Shackleton among the moderns. In
philosophy the famous one listed is
Bacon; in art, Leighton, Alta-Tadema
and Orchardson. The stage claims Sir
Henry Irving; music, 8ir Arthur Sulli-
van; science, Sir William Crookes, and
politics, Sir William Harcourt.
Early Electric Traction
The first electric motor was that
made by Abbe Salvatore del Negro in
Italy in 1830. Robert Davidson of
Aberdeen began experimenting about
1838 with the electric motor as a
means of traction and constructed a
powerful engine carrying a battery of
40 cells. The beginning of modern
electrie traction dates from 1878 when
the firm of Siemens & Haske put into
operation the first electric railway at
the industrial exposition in Berlin. The
following year Thomas A. Edison op-
erated his experimental line in Msulo
Park, N. J.
Later a huge
—.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
not halfe-way to meete a coming sor-
i rowe,
i Butte thankful bee for blessings of today,
‘ And pray that thou mayest blessed bee to--
morrowe,
So shalt thou goe with joy upon thy way,.
—Adolphus Goss.
j
|
Goe
. An electric sweeper saves the dirt-
dest and most exasperating task in
| the home; that is the task of keeping
. clean the floor-mop. Shaking it is not:
| really effectual; to wash it is repul-
i sive. After each mopping start the
| electric-cleaner, tip it back from the:
i floor to a convenient angle, and run
, the mop back and forth across the
vacuum opening. The suction dispos-
es of the lint, and if your sweeper has:
a revolving brush three or four
strokes of the tips will help to make
the mop almost unbelievably clean.
The secret is in moving the mop across-
the cleaner, rather than the cleaner
_ across the mop. This method is even
more successful and quicker than us-
ing the vacuum attachments.
When drying curtains, if it is too
much trouble to put up the stretcher,
just hang the curtain on the regular
rod at the window, run a heavier rod
through the bottom hem, pull the ma-
terial straight, and the curtains will
be dry in half an hour without the dis-
figuring hole marks the stretcher
makes.
A small piece of elastic sewed
; across the bottom of the legs of chil- °
'dren’s long underwear will keep it:
‘snugly in place around the foot and
ankle. This convenient device will do-
away with that bothersome lapping
and bagginess so common when chil--
dren wear long underwear.
: When sending a few choice apples
to a friend, dip them in melted wax..
: This preserves the flavor and keeps:
: the apples from getting bruised. Ap-
ples may be kept this way, without
fear of spoiling, for a long time.
CONSTIPATION EXERCISES FOR YOUR
BABY.
1. Single Knee Bending.
Lay baby on his back on a table or
bed in front of you with his head at.
i your left. Remove diaper. His other
, clothing may be off or on according
i to convenience. Now sit beside the-
baby, or if more comfortable hold him
jon your lap. Place your left hand
i lightly on his chest to steady him.
- With your right hand, grasp lightly
baby’s right leg just below the knee.
1. Bend the knee up, pressing it
into the abdomen.
2. Straighten the knee, returning:
the leg and foot to the table. Repeat:
this three times. Do the same with
the left knee and continue right and
left in three counts until you have
done it four times three (4x3) or
twelve times in all.
Do this slowly, easily and rhythm-
ically, but vigorously. Do not be
afraid of the baby. Pressing the knee
into the soft, little abdomen, taking it
away and then pressing it again has
an effect of kneading which softens:
up the contents of the intestines and
quickens the action of the bowels.
Most babies like to be handled and
played with and will take this as a
great joke and laugh while you are
doing it.
2. Double Knee Bending.
Put the baby in the same position as
: for exercise number one, but with both
little knees bent and grasped in the
i right hand.
i 1. Now bend both knees up, press-
ing into the abdomen.
2. Return to the starting position
i TR the baby’s feet resting on the ta-
ble.
Repeat in groups of three (3x3) or
‘ nine times in all.
In doing this exercise you may no--
tice that the buttocks come up off the
table at the end of the upward pres-
sure. This is all right, in fact it is an
advantage. You give a slight rolling
motion up and down.
3. Knee Circling.
Start with the same position as in
exercise number two. Grasp both
bent knees in your right hand.
1. Bend the baby’s knees up on his
abdomen at the right side, press them
into the abdomen and move them to-
ward his left. Release your pressure,
and move the knees back to the right
Now press into the abdomen while
moving to the left again. Repeat this
in a continuous motion, pressing down
as you move the baby’s knees to the
left and lifting as you bring them back
to the right. Do this in threes (3x3)
or nine times in all. The pressure in
this exercise follows the direction of
the large intestine, helping to move
the contents on toward the rectum for
evacuation.
4. Abdominal Kneading.
Lay the tips of the fingers of your
right hand on the baby’s abdomen,
starting at the right side and making
circular movements with pressure, fol-
lowing the same direction as in exer-
cise three, from the right across to the
left and then down a little toward the
middle. Lift just before you complete
the circle from the center to the right
side. Continue in groups of three
with a slight pause between, until you
have done it (4x3) twelve times.—
The Designer Magazine.
Pick as many tomatoes as desired
while still green, having them free
from blemish. Wrap each one in tis-
sue-paper by itself, and arrange on a
dry board in a cool place, They will
ripen so gradually that they will be
ready for slicing for Thanksgiving.
It is better to gather them in late Sep-
tember or early October. :
A small bottle-brush (I use one past
its usefulness for baby’s bottles) will
be found convenient for cleaning the
electric toaster whose crummy crev-
ices are often inaccessible to fingers
and a cloth. :
If you accidentally slit your nice,
new, figured oilcloth table-cover, cut
a piece of white court-plaster a little
longer and wider than the cut. Wet it
and paste it down on the wrong side
over the cut, and you have your oil-
cloth mended. It keeps the oilcloth
{rom tearing more or fraying out.
Paper-clips are very useful in sew-
| ing. Use them in basting seams and
turning hems.