“Belefonte, Pa., November 12, 1926.
————————————
MAKE GOOD.
When the battle breaks against you and
the crowd fails to cheer;
When the anvil chorus echoes with the es-
sence of a jeer;
‘When the knockers start their panning in
the knocker's nimble way,
With a rap for all your errors and a josh
upon your play;
Ther2 is one quick answer ready that will
nail them on the wing;
There is one reply forthcoming that will
wipe away the sting:
There is one elastic comeback that will
hold them as it should—Make Good!
No matter where you finish in the mix-up
or the row,
There are those among the rabble who will
pan you anyhow;
But the entry who is sticking and deliver-
ing the stuff
Can listen to the yapping as he giggles up
his cuff;
The loafer has no comeback and the quit-
ter no reply
When the anvil chorus echoes, as it will
against the sky;
But there’s one quick answer ready that
will wrap them in a hood—Make Good!
THE ROAD TO WAR EAGLE.
It was a typical “weather-breeder”
afternoon in late summer when the
Limited paused for water in its crow’s
flight southward at the small town of
Cedar Ridge, Okla. Black clouds
gathered against the sun as it dipped
toward the long range of hills west-
ward. The wind came in gusts from
the northwest, heat-laden. The air
was golden hazy brown, filled with
dust, fine alkali dust, well seasoned by
an extended drought.
A pretty girl alighted from a rear
Pullman and, grip in hand, stood rath-
er wistfully watching the train as it
pulled out in a swirl of dust and
smoke, then turned and walked brisk-
ly to the end of the platform. A
pretty girl, yes, indeed!
She was of medium height, yet
slender enough to be classed “divine-
ly tall” and beautiful enough to war-
rant the “divinely fair” of the original
quotation. Her walk smacked of the
easy, free stride of a boy. Other
things said, “No, it’s a girl.” Her
graceful figure, brown-clad, shapely
to a queen’s taste; the trim ankles,
graceful carriage of the hips, the
slender, erect shoulders, piquant face,
clear brown eyes, auburn-brown wavy
bobbed hair, rosy cheeks and full red
lips—all these points of interest to
the genus masculine were quickly as-
similated by the appreciative eyes of
a young man seated in a car at the
platform’s end. Willard Bateman, age
about 25, had come down to meet his
parents, but now he really didn’t re-
member whether they got off the train
or not. No, on second thought, he was
positive they hadn’t—but this refresh-
. ing picture was certainly some com-
pensation.
: The girl, she wasn’t a bit over 18,
if that, started toward a lone taxi
standing nearby, hesitated, then stop-
ped in front of Willard’s car, a re-
straining hand on the rather short
skirt which a truant puff of wind had
lifted somewhat indiscreetly.
“Pardon me,” she said, and her |
voice was low and musical, “can you
tell me, please, the road to War
Eagle? How far, and is there a way
to go? They told me there was a
stage line from here.”
Willard straightened and stepped
quickly down.
“War Eagle!” he exclaimed. “No,
there isn’t. Well, there is a mail
hack once every two days, but it
doesn’t carry passengers; not lady
passengers. And it’s twenty-five miles
from here.” Willard’s interest was
aroused.
: Involuntarily he shuddered at the
idea of a young and attractive girl
like this venturing, wholly unprotect-
ed, to set foot in a little mountain Tia
Juana such as War Eagle. For War
Eagle, be it known, was a den of un-
painted shacks and much-painted in-
iquity, clustered like an evil wart at
the end of civilization and beyond.
Here some fifty-odd inhabitants lived
by gambling, boot-legging and darker
means, recognizing no law save their
own.
War Eagle! Notorious all over the
country for its wild week-ends, when
cowboys and ranch hands for miles
around flock in to this common cen-
ter to drink, gamble, roll dice and
drink again, and so on. It is Satur-
day, and Willard’s mind’s eye could
see it as he saw it last, by nightfail.
The one narrow street of the town.
And it would be night before she
could possibly get there. The little
alley which served as the main
thoroughfare of War Eagle would be
crowded with bronchos, buckboards
and wagons, which have brought some
hundred or so rough-and-ready hill
plains men to seek free rein for plea-
sure all night, all day Sunday and
Sunday night until the small hours of
Monday morning.
Some miles off the beaten trail,
away up and around the far shoulder
of rugged Saddle-Back Mountain, this
fastness of theirs had been well
chosen; a rendezvous far removed
from the eyes of the law and reason-
ably secure from invasion. Here Joe
Bailey’s dance hall and pool emporium
will be wide open. Yonder Widow
Beckman'’s place, a speakeasy known
to every ne’er-do-well, serves rich
yellow and white moonshine liquor ad
jibidum; and red liquor, too, raw and
fiery, will flow free as water. High
stakes at cards and dice will be play-
ed and won and lost. There will be
dancing and carousal. Perhaps a kill-
ing—not unusual by any means.
“It is all of twenty-five miles, over
the best road. Over Saddle-Back
Mountain, the range you see yonder,”
pointing to the west, “is nearer, but
much rougher traveling, especially
for a car. But you—-" he could not
keep back the protest she already saw
in his face—* surely you are not in-
tending to——"
With a flash of the bright brown
interrupted, in fact put him
the little chin up-
one dainty
eyes she
entirely to rout,
turned and firmly set, o
brown-slippered foot imperiously tap-
ping, yet offsetting the severity of the
rebuke by a disarming smile—
“But, yes, indeed, I am, sir! I must
get there today, tonight, and I am
losing time right now!” Lowerin
her voice and advancing a step, wi
a glance toward the rather rough-
looking occupant of the dilapidated
“for-hire” car nearby, who was very
obviously still hopeful of a fare, “That
taxi man over there. Is he depend-
able, and what would he charge, do
you think, to take me out? I did not
know it was so far.”
Willard hesitated only a moment.
“Forgive my delay in answering your
question,” he said. “Also my frank-
now. I have lived here all my life—
so far’—and his saving Irish grin was
very contagious—“so I guess, ma'am,
you'll have to accept me as a sort of
authority. I know most of the folks
who people this neck of the woods,
and by their first names, and how they
stack otherwise, if you kindly over-
look the slang. That bird over there
is a long way from being a gentle-
man; in fact, he’s a plain ‘rounder,’
and no lady of your appearance would
be safe in his company even in a
church. And I'm sorry to say that
the remainder of the fellows who are
in his line of business here are not
much if any better.” Hitching his
belt a little, and with an imploring
look for pardon for speaking so plain-
ly on a disagreeable topic, he contin-
ued, “While I am on the subject I'd as
well go ahead and call all the cards
by their right names. The little burg
you are ticketed for is as choice a nest
of thieves, bootleggers, cutthroats and
worse as there is in the State, or I
guess in several States. It’s no trav-
eler’s rest, or old ladies’ home, I'll
say, and the very last place on earth
for a young lady, good-looking girl
like you.”
He was perspiring freely and red
as a poppy when he finished, and the
fair defendant was blushing fully as
furiously as he. Her little head went
back with an airy toss, and her eyes
flashed, as she bit her lip and looked
straight through this very presump-
tuous young person—said presump-
tuous young person being at this pre-
cise instant even more uncomfortable
than he looked! Then her unfailing
good nature returned and she spoke
earnestly and patiently:
“You don’t understand the circum-
stances, of .course, and it is only fair
I should tell you something of them,
and perhaps get your advice. My
name is Adelia Lowe. I have pur-
chased a small farm at War Eagle.
That is, I have bought an option on
one, and the option happens to expire
today. On account of missing a con-
nection, I have been delayed a day in
arriving, so you see it is not only nec-
cessary that I get to War Eagle, but
also that I have no time to lose. A
place has been promised me in the
school there, and I bought the farm,
or intend to buy it, as it seems as good
an investment as I can make with mv
savings,” she continued. “The option
cost me $200. And you—perhaps you
will—could I—” She stopped in em-
barrassment and confusion. She very
much wanted this nice dependable
young man to drive her to War Eagle,
but did not dare ask him to accept
pay, and could not bring herself to the
point of imposing on his good nature
otherwise.
H came to her rescue gallantly.
“Sure!” he assented eagerly, in re-
sponse to her unfinished query. “Pi
take you. But it will be a good hotel
where you can get a good rest tonight.
You won’t lose your option, and in the
morning we will try to figure things
out and what is best—no, I'll take you
right on out there if you feel that
way about it!” as her chin began to
quiver and he could see the tears in
her eyes. “I'll certainly take you, be
glad to, that is, if you will risk my
company;” and to himself, he added,
“and bring you back, too, this very
night!” “I am Willard Bateman,” he
continued, “age 25, son of the ‘lead-
ing citizen’ and banker of this little
city, off for the remainder of the day,
nothing particular to do tonight, and
entirely at your service. And,”
glancing at the sky and the thunder-
heads looming in the west, “I am as
anxious to get started as you are, as
there is bad weather ahead, and part
of the road is pretty slick when it
rains, with a couple of fords we must
cross that are dangerous when the
creek is up. Are you hungry?” he
asked.
She had released her grip to him
and, having deposited it in the back
seat, he was holding the door open for
her. “No,” she answered, “I have
some sandwiches in my grip that will
do very nicely later on. I'm not a bit
hungry now. And if you don’t mind,
I shall sit in front, I'm not afraid of
you, you see.”
Willard Bateman, unmarried, and
hitherto untouched by feminine
charms, drove the first mile in bliss-
ful silence. He had at last found a
real little pal, and he was going to see
her through and out of her difficulties,
and back to Cedar Ridge, and then
* *% % * yell, the remainder was very
vague, but he was not going to lose
her, and she was sitting there beside
him, and wasn’t it glorious simply to
be alive! He stole a glance at her.
She was busy removing dust and trav-
el stains from a pair of entrancing
cheeks, one of which was threatened
with a dimple, and from an adorable
pug nose with a bewitching tiny
wrinkle across it he hoped would nev-
er come off. With a final dab at this
latter she finished, and leaned back
with a sigh of relief.
Willard broke the silence. “I am
taking you to War Eagle,” he said,
“because you insist on going. Be-
cause, too, you have, evidently got
tied up out there, probably by a crook,
or several of them, and stand to lose
it. Now, I'm going to get you some-
thing back out of that option, and
bring you back, too, and you can get
a good position in our school at Cedar
Ridge.” Pausing, he bit his lip and
wondered at his own temerity. He
was certainly taking a lot for granted,
also taking a great deal of interest in
a wholly unknown but as wholly
charming young lady. He hoped she
| wouldn’t resent or misinterpret his
seeming intrusiveness. As he felt the plainly you are not accustomed to
light pressure of her soft shoulder
against his as they turned a sharp
curve in the road and headed for the about starved for a good drink of wa- |
calling young ladies by their front
‘names. No, I’m not hungry, but I am
creek, a strange thrill ran through | ter!”
him. Yes, he had exactly that same
“gone” feeling experienced by every
other young man from the beginning
of time who meets his fate and she
hands him the apple and
and forthwith, consciously or uncon-
sciously, begins to capitulate!
They were passing a cabin which
! stood in a nearby clearing, and had
left the creek some little way back.
“A good well right here!” he said,
he partakes, and stopping the car he was out and
over the fence in a jiffy. Turning
| with a dipperful of cold water he al-
The hitherto invulnerable Willard ' most collided with his companion, wio
Bateman, for whom many a young
belle of the town had angled in vain,
was at last in love. In love with this
very pretty demure little miss who | €
seemed used to being waited on.
and yet wanted to get
camarad- | my—myself,”
had met him on equal footing,
to have a will of her own,
whose evident friendliness,
erie and confidence in him had won
his instant admiration and respect.
In love, too, with her laughing brown
eyes and full red lips;
head crowned with an auburn-brown
aura of wavy bobbed hair that
wouldn’t stay still, but stirred and
danced with the wind, and made him
want to run his fingers through it!
And her name was Adelia—Adelia
Lowe, from somewhere, and that was
absolutely all he knew about her, ex-
cept that he had no intention of ever
letting her get out his life.
She laughed quietly, even amused-
ly. “All right, Mr. Bateman! Do
you make a custom or habit of tak-
ing charge of the business affairs of
all your young lady accquaintances,
or am I the exception?”
was kind and friendly, and there was
no hint of irony or resentment in her
voice, only an amused tolerance and |
shall call you by your first name—
perfect candor. ‘Really, Wil-lard!
you see, I am going to be friends with |
you if you will allow me to, and you
may call me Adelia. But I am going
ahead with my plans unless I find it
impossible or extremely impractical to
do so. I will give you some more de-
tails as to my exact situation, and
some of my personal problems which
are mixed up in it, and then I am go-
ing to be very, very grateful to you
for helping me through, as I am sure
you really want to help me. Now, as
I said a while ago, I have a place to
teach at War Eagle. Also, I have the
assurance that I may likely keep it
as long as I wish, as they seem to
have had some trouble in retaining a
regular teacher out there.” (And no
wonder, he thought.) “In addition,
as I also told you, I have bought an
option to purchase a small farm there,
and I am not inclined to back out—
not, at least, until I have been on the
ground, looked the situation over and
given it a thorough trial. I am not
the quitting kind, and it may not be
as bad as you think it is. There is a
surprising amount of good in the
worst of men, and they certainly will
have respect for the right kind of a
woman!” And she looked at him un-
flinchingly. “Now as to my personal
problem: I am an orphan, and all that
my father left me and what little I
have saved in my three years in busi-
ness offices aud teaching school I am
going to put in the farm. About the
school, I really feel that I should take
the school I am sure of getting #nd
keeping, rather than take a chance on
obtaining a place in your schools this
late in the season, as I am dependent
on my salary to help keep us both go-
ing.” Here she paused, arrested at
the sudden question in his face, and
then she understood, and laughed gay-
ly. “No, no! I'm not married, nor
even engaged, and neither are you!”
(How did she know that!) “The farm
is for my brother, John, who was gas-
sed overseas. He is taking a course
in agriculture—vocational training,
you know—and the doctors say that
out here in the West in the open on a
farm he can eventually recover his
health and strength.”
He drew a long breath of relief, and
the barometer of his spirit, which had
dropped very low, rebounded buoyant-
ly. And with it also rose his regard
and respect for the little lady beside
him. A game little breadwinner, look-
ing zhead and shouldering the re- |
sponsibilities fr two, herself and her
invalid brother. She, in her turn, stole
a quick look of appraisal at this un-
usuallly frank and open, as well as
good-looking, young man. Willard,
she decided, would pass very nicely.
She had seen handsomer men, yes, but
they had always given her the impres:
sion of holding back something they
didn’t want her to see, and she had al-
ways had a vague distrust. Yet here
was one whom she had met within the
hour and had won her entire confi
dence and with whom she felt perfect:
ly at ease. He might be, yes, he was,
just a wee bit too fat, but probably
his work was indoors in an office and
a little wholesome outdoor exercise
should correct this very easily.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and with
nice hands and feet. His face was
clean cut, his look open and straight
at you when he spoke, and she liked
his voice and his frank boyish man-
ner. Yes, she liked this young man
extremely well, and intuitively felf
she could trust him. As to his offer
of a school in town, he meant well, no
doubt, but it was too uncertain. She
wondered if Willard really knew of
an opening she could get at Cedar
Ridge. It was so near the opening of
the term that most places had their
lists of teachers already engaged. Or
was the suggestion just the rash
promise of a youth who sees a young
girl in distress, and has taken a fancy
to her, or a sympathetic feeling for
her, or both, and wants to lend a help-
ing hand? That there was no evil
motive in his heart she divived in-
stantly and without debate. She had
been associated long enough with men
of many sorts and types, in business
offices, in schools and on school boards,
to be able to pick the good ones. Wil-
lard Bateman was certainly a real
gentleman. Likewise, he had had very
little experience with the opposite sex.
She ended her train of thought with a
bewildering smile at the young man in
question that made his heart miss a
beat and jump several more, and
which elicited the interrogation, to
cover his confusion.
“Aren't you getting hungry by this
time—uh, Adelia?”
She laughed mischieviously.
“Say
it over again, Wil-lard!
I see most
with her ag- sively so, and
ssive little chin, and the adorable | catching up the dust in
rish nose; the high intellectual fore- |
Her smile
gouatsd the fence and about as quick-
y as he.
“I climbed over,” she said. “Not
Besides, I
out anyway and stretch
blushing rosily. Then
they both laughed and he spilled the
| water and had to get her another dip-
i perful. The air was still hot, oppres-
had. in some mysterious way also ne-
the wind was rising an
whirlwinds all
along the trail ahead of them. Light-
ning flashed fitfully in the north and '
The sun had set behind the.
west.
clouds, which by this time had spread
fan-shaped, and now into a great arc,
with a smooth area beneath, just
above the mountain tops.
“Wind in that,” Willard exclaimed.
“We'd better get on.” Helping her
back in the car her arm was firm,
round and muscular to his hand. She
slid into her place gracefully and
easily as if to the manner born. On
reaching the foot of the mountain,
Willard paused where the roads fork-
ed. “Which shall it be?” he queried.
“Oh, not over that mountain!” she
exclaimed. “If it’s only a few miles
farther let’s go around.”
“It’s about five miles farther,” he
replied, “and another creek to cross,
I but the road is better, and if it storms
we can get away from the timber.
We'll go around. War Eagle is at the
far end of this range of hills on the
other side. Tonight it will be full of
whisky and meanness of all kinds. I
don’t like to take you there, but you
need not be afraid, for I'll see you
there and back safely!” He set his
jaw, squared his shoulders and drove
on with increasing speed. The car
careened and rocked like a boat,
where the road was rough, and around
the various crooks and turns. The
first heavy line of clouds was now
scudding rapidly across the sky over-
head. The wind was increasing, and
the sound of roaring in the northwest
heralded the oncoming of either heavy
rain or wind or both.
Switching on the lights as darkness
fell, Willard put all his skill and at-
tention on the road ahead, driving as
fast as he dared, frequently risking
his springs over some “chughole” or
obstruction, in his anxiety to make
the open country and some sort of
now due to break on them at any min-
ute. They encountered no one from
the forks of the road until they reach-
ed the second fork. Here a lone trav-
eler on horseback reined up a moment
in passing, and shouted:
“Heavy rain above, mister! If
youw'uns aim ter come back ter night
ook out for the crossing. Th’ creek’ll
sure be up!”
Indeed, as they crossed it, Willard’s
experienced eye could tell the creek
was already beginning to rise, and
they barely got through without kill-
ing the engine. As they left the heavy.
timber bordering the creek banks and
sped across a stretch of more open
country skirting the base of the moun-
tain, the rain began with a dash—big
drops, hard-driven, splattering against
the windshield and splotching on the
engine’s hood. The car gave percept-
ibly to the force of the wind, which
“sideswiped” it, coming from the
northwest. The lightning was play-
ing now almost incessantly. There
was a continual growl and rumble of
thunder and a peculiar moaning in the
air high overhead.
Suddenly Willard’s companion
caught his arm convulsively. “Oh,
Willard!” she cried, “ I believe it’s a
twister coming!” By the lightning’s
flashes he discerned high above what
looked like trash, debris and limbs of
trees swirling along. The wind at that
moment almost swerved the car from
the road, and for one breathless in-
stant it balanced with two wheels in
the air, and then righted itself again.
The girl had released her hold on his
arm, and was grittily clinging to the
side of the car. “Can Ido anything ?”
she asked.
“No, just hold on tight!” he shout-
ed, his voice barely audible above the
roar of wind and rain. Not a house
for at least a mile where there might
be a storm cellar, or at least a shelter.
He thought and acted quickly. Turn-
ing the car off the road and against
the wind he drove and bounded over
the prairie some seventy-five or a
hundred yards—it seemed like that
many miles—to the foot of the moun-
tain which ran parellel here with the
trail. “We'll have to chance falling
timber,” he shouted, and falling it was
here and yonder, in crashes of heavy
limbs, and now and then the thunder-
ous downward toppling roar of some
big tree. “Not a tornado, thank good-
ness!” he added, “but the next thing
to it,” and drove the nose of his en-
gine into the soft dirt of the bluff
next to a huge projecting boulder.
Fairly pulling his companion from her
seat, he rolled with her in his arms—
the wind was so string one couldn’t
stand—beneath the shelter of the
rock. A split second was all the time |
he had to spare, for in that brief in-
terval a huge tree came down square-
ly across the car, crashing it pretty
thoroughly. The terrific noise of the
wind, the sheets of torrential rain re-
vealed by the constant lightning and
the heavy peals of thunder combined
to shut out all else, and although he
shouted to her Adelia could only see
his lips move. Partially protected
from the driving rain by the over-
hanging rock and his body above her,
she clung to him blindly, frightened
and pitifully but gamely silent, and
her eyes said, “I got you into this. It’s
all my fault!”
They must have said something else
besides, for he suddenly swept her
closer, and pressed his lips to hers.
First they responded only faintly,
then clung to his in sweet surrender.
As the fury of the storm abated a
little she essayed to push him away.
He laughed and held her close, saying,
shelter before the storm, which was !
i “You love me, dear, and I have loved
' you always, only to find you today!
| This ends your trip to War Eagle, and
begins a longer one, a life journey for
you and me, if you say the word. Is
| it worth the option?”
| She gasped, hid her head against
| his shoulder a long, long moment, then
slowly raised it, and she yielded her-
i self to his caresses. Eons of time
later, between kisses, Willard paused
{ long enough to say, “You won’t care
‘ about the option, will you ’Delia? I'll
make it good!”
| _ Pressing warm fingers against his
| lips, “Darn the option!” she said. “I'll
| Jose it and buy you another car!”
_ He laughed again, in deep-throated
joy, and stopped her quivering lips
| with his, raining ardent kisses on their
upturned sweetness; then on her neck,
her arms, her shoulders, and ran his
fingers caressingly through the soft
d | wavy tendrils of her hair.
The morning sun discovered to an
astonished teamster passing along the
road a much bedraggled and dishev-
eled boy and girl, sound asleep in each
other’s arms, in the back seat of a
badly wrecked automobile. His shout |
aroused them, and he was quickly
commandeered to chauffeur them to
town, where a license and a minister
and a quiet ceremony the following
morning added a charming daughter
to the house of Bateman, just one
hour before the belated arrival of the i
old folks. Mildly astonished, but
quick to recognize true quality and
breeding when they saw it, Willard’s
father and mother without question
accepted their new daughter. They,
too, loved Adelia almost at first sight.
First, perhaps, because “Son” did;
then on their own account, and she
was “Daughter” from the very be-
ginning.
Brother John now has the farm, but
Adelia’s teaching is limited to the care
and very early training of a pair of
bouncing fine twin boys who came
within the year. It fell to the lot of
“Grandfather” Bateman to name
‘ them, which he did without hesitation,
and “Willard” and “Deal,” or “Bill”
and “Dealer” as the nicknames attach-
“ed to them, soon ruled the whole Bate-
man household.
i Ruled it? Yes, with one exception,
! which Willard made as the boys grew
| older. “Little Mother,” as they all
y now loved to call Adelia, was after all,
| the power behind the throne, as well
! as the queen on the throne, and her
| word, once spoken, was absolute law.
So, whenever, “Little Mother's” pretty
| chin came up, and the brown eyes
flashed, on the rare occasions when
her suggestion or gentle authority
was questioned, up would go Willard’s
finger at his sturdy youngsters, with
the friendly but serious warning:
“Steady, boys! Storm’s brewing!”
How “Little Mother” would frown,
! then the corners of her mouth would
‘begin to twitch in spite of her, and
how she would smile, with clear brown
| eyes laughing straight at father, and
say:
“You
i me for
Tabler,
Ledger.
big old tease! You still owe
that option!”—By Harry B.
in the Philadelphia Public
| West Chester Old Town Clock to Play
Tunes.
| The “old town clock” at West Ches-
ter, as it is familiarly dubbed by
many, especially before it kept cor-
reet time, may play a few tunes every
15 minutes, if the plans that are now
being considered by the caretaker,
Joseph Belt, materialize. It is the in-
tention of the caretaker, either to
equip the clock with chimes or a mu-
sic box which will peal out melodies
every fifteen minutes in the day and
night.
If this equipment is added the clock
will have a double duty to perform,
for in addition to playing music, will
throw out the ball every day at the
noon hour.
“Phe old town clock is in fine con-
dition,” says Mr. Belt. “You might
‘think that the Arlington time signals
| were regulated by it. People say to
! me that it is on the minute. It never
kept better time since it was placed
in present condition. All it needed
| was a little attention.
| «I believe that this winter I will
| work out plans whereby it will play
tunes every fiften minutes. I can
either equip it with chimes or connect
it with a music box.
! Every day at the stroke of 12 o’clock
| noon, a ball drops from the clock. A
| boy gets the ball and takes it to a
merchant who rewards him.
first this feature was introduced it
| created quite an amount of interest,
but for a long time the idea has drop-
| ped from sight with the exception of
' boys who still take advantage of the
ity of making that precious
|
‘ opportuni
dime a day.
ee — i —— .
Home Setting Important.
Buy your lot well in advance of the
time for building and landscape it
with trees and hedges, is the advice
given by a far-seeing reader who con-
tributes a letter to the series on home-
building in Liberty. “In planning my
future home,” she writes, “I purchas-
ed two lots, 40 feet frontage each, in
what I believe will be a fine residen-
tial district in the suburban develop-
ment of the city. My building pro-
gram will not commence until 1930. I
suggest to lot holders with such fu-
ture plans: Plant shade trees and
fence hedges now. Four or five years
of steady, natural growth will make
for hardiness that building activities
will not disturb. The completed home
will have the beauty and finish that
otherwise would require four or five
years to develop.”
——— A ———
Good Roads Movement.
The good roads movement in this
country began in August, 1912, and
was continued in 1913 and 1914, when,
in the latter year, congress created a
joint congressional committee of five
Senators and five representatives to
investigate the question of govern-
ment aid in the construction of post
roads. The subject has given many
members of congress opportunities to
print speeches on the subject in the
Congressional Record for the benefit
of their constituents.
When |
—_—_—__—_—_—_e Hed ll at
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
It is more men that the world wants,
not more systems. It is character that
our modern life wants for, to redeem and
transform it; and conducts as the fruitage
of a character.
—Shirr it, cord it, stitch it, fold it,
drape it, tuck it and combine it in
colors. These are in part some of the
ways the fashionable milliner ma-
nipulates velvet this season. Further-
more velvet is being used for sports
as well as dressy models. A sports
velvet hat with a sports two-piece
velvet frock is one of the happy hap-
penings among fashionable folk.
; —Although the original idea in de-
signing an attractive desk set was not
most likely a sanitary one, it is, never-
theless, a delightfully clean looking
set of accessories. It is compesed en-
{irely of a soft gray china, glazed and
undecorated. Blotter corners, pen
tray, blotter, calendar, pin-box, pen-~
wiper and inkwell are all of the china.
The set in a gray bedroom with a
bright blotter to give color and the
monogram of the owner done in black
or gold on the china would be just the
prettiest combination possible. May-
be you can get a friend who paints
china to make you one.
—A great many housewives sigh for
a sure-enough method of “keeping
dinner warm” for father. The best
. way, if your gas range has no warm-
“ing oven, is to set the dish in hot wa-
"ter. Placing a cooked article in the
oven or over an asbestos mat dries it
up, but a large, shallow pan of water
set over the simmering burner or in
the oven is a safe receptacle for sev-
eral dishes of food and will keep them
warm without drying them.
—If you do not care to eat meat,
there are ever so many delicious dish-
es that you may substitute it for on
your everyday table. Eggs, and cheese
and nuts may be made into many good
things, judging by the various recipes
for their use offered to housekeepers
in “Hints to Housewives,” issued by
Mayor Mitchel’s Food Supply Com-
mittee, in New York. Here are a few
of them:
Eggs With Cheese—The ingredients
are, for 4 persons, 4 eggs, 3 cup of
milk, 1 tablespoon butter or drippings,
2 tablespoons of grated cheese, pep-
per, salt and cayenne. Heat a small
omelet pan, put in butter or drip-
pings, and, when melted, add milk.
Slip in the eggs one at a time; sprin-
kle : with salt, pepper, and a few
grains of cayenne. When whites are
nearly firm, sprinkle with cheese.
Finish cooking, and serve on buttered
toast. Pour sauce frem the pan over
the eggs. :
Scrambled Eggs With Tomatoes-—
| The ingredients are: 4 eggs, i cup of
‘stewed and strained tomatoes or
. canned tomato pulp, ¥ teaspoon of
| salt, 1 teaspoon of paprika, 2 table-
| spoons butter or drippings. Beat the
| eggs slightly and add tomatoes, salt
{and paprika. Melt butter or drip-
| pings in a frying pan, add seasoned
eggs, and cook just as one would
| scrambled ‘eggs. Butter slices of
i toasted bread. Pour the eggs over
| the toast and sprinkle with parsley.
Poached Eggs With Cheese—Ar-
range poached eggs on a shallow but-
tered dish. Sprinkle with grated
cheese. Pour over eggs 1 pint of
white sauce. Cover with stale bread-
crumbs and sprinkle with grated
cheese. Brown in the oven. Tomato
sauce may be used, instead of white
sauce.
Cheese Omelet—The ingredients
are: 2 eggs, 1 tablespoon of melted
, butter or drippings, * teaspoon of salt,
a few grains of cayenne, 1 tablespoon
of grated cheese. Beat the eggs
slightly; add 3% teaspoon of melted
butter or drippings, salt, cayenne, and
| cheese. Melt remaining butter or
| drippings in frying pan, and mixture,
"and cook until firnt, without stirring.
. Roll and sprinkle with grated cheese.
Bread Omelet—The ingredients are:
3 eggs, 1 teaspoon of salt, a dash of
black pepper, 3 cup of bread-crumbs,
2 cup of milk, 1 teaspoon of butter
| substitute. Beat the eggs separately.
| Add to the yolks the milk, salt, pepper
and the bread-crumbs. Now stir into
this carefully the beaten whites; mix
very lightly. Put the butter or butter
| substitute in a very smooth frying
! pan; as soon as hot, turn in the mix-
ture gently, and set it over a clear
| fire, being very careful not to let it
burn; shake occasionally to see that
the omelet does not stick. Now stand
your frying pan in the oven for a mo-
ment, to set the middle of the ome-
let. When done, toss it ove? on a
warm platter to bring the brown side
of the omelet uppermost; or, it may be
folded in half and then turned out in
the center of the platter. Serve im-
mediately or it will fall.
Creamed Cheese and Eggs—For
this dish, you will require 8 hard boil-
ed eggs, § teaspoon of salt, 4 slices
of toast, 1 tablespoon of flour, 1 table-
spoon of butter, a few grains of
cayenne, 1 cup of milk and ¥ of a cup
of grated cheese. Make a thin white
sauce with butter, flour, milk and sea-
soning. Add the cheese and stir un-
til melted. Chop egg whites and add’
to sauce. Pour over the toast. Force
yolks through a strainer. Sprinkle
over the toast. Butter may be omitted
but adds to flavor.
Nut Loaf—This recipe calls for 2
cups of soft bread crumbs, 1 cup of
milk, 2 cups of chopped nuts, 3 tea-
spoon of salt, 1 egg, 1 teaspoon of
kitchen bouquet, i teaspoon of pep-
per, 1 tablespoon butter or drippings.
Soak the crumbs in milk until soft,
and add remaining ingredients. Pour
into a bread pan, baste with water or
drippings, and bake 1 hour. Serve hot
or cold with tomato sauce.
Nut and Cheese Roast—The ingre-
dients are: One cup of grated cheese,
1 cup of bread-crumbs, juice of #
lemon, 1 cup of chopped nuts, 1 table-
spoon of butter or drippings, 2 table
spoons of onion, salt and pepper. Cook
the chopped onion in the butter or
drippings and a little water until ten-
der. Mix other ingredients, moisten
with water, using that in which the
onion was cooked. Pour into a shai-
low baking dish and brown in the
oven,