Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, January 04, 1929, Image 2

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Bellefonte, Pa. January 4, 1929.
Quit you like men, be strong;
There's a burden to bear,
There's a grief to share,
There's a heart that breaks ’neath a load
of care—
But fare ye forth with a song.
Quit you like men, be strong;
There's a battle to fight,
There's a wrong to right,
“There’s a God who blesses the good with
So fare ye forth with a song.
Quit you like men, be strong;
There's a work to do,
There's a world to make new,
There's a call for men who are brave and
On! on with a song!
Quit you like men, be strong;
There's a year of grace,
There's a God to face,
There's another heat in the great world
Speed! speed with a song!
—William Herbert Hudnut
For several weeks all went rap-
turously with the honeymooners.
Florida days and nights of entranc-
ing loveliness succeeded each other
like a string of priceless beads, each
hour packed with bliss for young Mr.
and Mrs. Greenlough. Oliver in flan-
nels, piloting his peri-like wife among
the dancers to the tantalizing strains
of saxophone and violin, appeared as
Joyous as was mortally possible. And
Barbara, her blond head a blur of
meshed gold against his shoulder,
was riotously happy. She wouldn’t
have traded places with any woman!
Had she been older and wiser, she
might have realized that a break of
some sort was inevitable. They were
having too perfect a time!
For one thing, although they would
have strenuously denied this, they
were not very well acquainted. True,
they had had long talks, each trying
to say what would please the other;
they had danced and dined together,
generally in the presence of friends.
Their visits had been as smoothly
happy as though planned by efficiency
experts. You don’t actually know a
man until you’ve seen him get a blow-
out or discover onion in his favorite
salad. And when they shook the
confetti out of their clothes, they
hadn’t had a single argument with
strings in it. But flies have a wretch-
ed predilection for the ointment, and
perfection comes in small doses. ,
The crocuses had blossomed and the
forsythia was showering the green
earth with fragile yellow bells when
they moved into their first hone.
Oliver's lumber business was pros-
{ with my enemies?
There fell a happy silence between
them; Barbara glanced at Oliver and
saw that his face had a fixed look and
a dark vein was showing faintly in
his forehead. When he spoke, his
voice was no longer lyrical.
“You’ve been seeing a lot of the
Reynoldses lately, Babs. I wish you'd
cut it out. Sam Reynolds is no friend
if wine!” :
“But I'm awfully fond of them!”
“You're my wife, aren't you?
You're going to back me, aren't
“Y—ryes, of course.”
“Sam Reynolds is a fool!”
“Oh, no, Oliver ! You just don’t ap- i
preciate each other!”
“He said things to me I won’t take
from any man. And I don’t want my
wife going to his house!”
“What did he say, Oliver?”
“He practically called me a liar.”
“Oh, no!”
“Amounts to the same thing. He
claims his place runs back beyond
that big lilac bush. He’s wrong, and
when I told him he was, he got on his
ear and contradicted me flat.”
Barbara stared at him. “He’s like
a small boy,” she thought; “so easily
Sf nded, so fierce in his likes and dis-
She visioned the sands at Miami, |
with the tide curling in and the waves
breaking gloriously along the beach.
And she remembered the honeymoon |
promises: his to her and hers to him.
What intense children they had been!
Now he was asking her to stand by
him. She would do anything for Oliv-
er. Yet, she liked the Reynoldses.
How utterly unreasonable to break
with them!
During the ensuing days Barbara
began many things and finished noth-
ing. She rushed restlessly about and
wondered what her broad-minded
father would say to this boycotting
of the Reynoldses. It seemed incred-
ible that Oliver should insist on her
dropping them; and, on the surface, it
seemed amazing that she had given
in to him. But it was hard to refuse
him anything. And yet, she shouldn't
have agreed to do wrong in order to
keep peace in the family.
One evening, when Oliver appeared
in high spirits, she pulled her low
chair so that it touched his and pitch-
ed in:
“I want you to do something for
me, Oliver. Will you?”
“Sure, I'll do anything—almost
anything,” he amended. “I might be
letting myself in for a new car.”
“No, nothing like that!” She shook
her head. It was proving difficult to
frame her request.
“You asked me to have nothing to
do with the Linwoods and the Rey-
noldses. “I've thought it over for-
ward and backward. If you don’t like
these people, all right. But I do like
them. And I don’t want to give them
She stopped at the stricken look
in his face. He flicked the ash from
his cigar and compressed his lips.
“You want, in other words, to side
That’s what they
are—Linwood and that pig-headed
perous, and he urged Barbara to buy i Reynolds you're so fond of!”
the best for everything. “We're fur-
“That’s not putting it fairly. Why,
nishing for a lifetime. I want things ‘I don’t even know what the quarrel’s
to be just as you want ’em. Don’t
bother too much over price tags.”
So the house became like a show-
place, with its Persian rugs, windows
draped with dainty colored voiles;
and back of the house was a bird
| He drew himself up to his full
height. “It was about that colt, Gee
Whiz, which Jim Linwood, who thinks
he knows everything, says is a broth-
er of Thunder Bolt. It’s nonsense!
bath and lily pond. Beneath the June | And I told him so!”
sun the old-fashioned garden—pan-
sies, pinks, canterbury bells, poppies ' Ollie!
and phlox—formed a mosaic of glor-
ious colors.
nearest neighbors, the Linwoods, gave
a card party Barbara sent flowers for
all the tables. A few days later Stel-
la Linwood brought over a heaping
dish of strawberries.
“We've more than we can eat,” she
“I'm glad of it}
At dinner that evening Oliver
seemed preoccupied. After finishing
his shortcake, he grew more affable.
“Mighty good, Babs! Delia’s some
He shoved back his chair.
you accepting anything
those Linwoods!”
“Why not?”
“I've had some words with Jim.
He’s a poor fish! Let ’em alone.”
He drew in his breath sharply and
stood stiffly erect. “Well, I don’t. I
can’t stand the idea of your being in-
timate after what Jim said to me.
I'd just as soon you stopped having
to do with either of them.”
“But 1 can’t.”
She looked at his dark face, out-
lined against the curtained French
windows. Never had it seemed more
appealing—so tragic and boyish. The
maternal in her longed to comfort
him, but she came from a fair-minded
“I'm sorry, Ollie, but I think Jim
talks a lot; says things he doesn’t
mean, sometimes. Why not overlook
it? We're not perfect ourselves,
He opened his arms for her to come
and sit upon his knee. The hurt look
in his eyes went to her heart.
“He was downright insulting! I
want my wife to stand by me—to
back me up.”
She ran to him, plumped down up-
on his lap and threw her arms about
his neck. “You foolish, darling
lamb!” she cried. “I'll do anything
for you, anything you want me to!”
His nearness and the kiss he gave
her made her forget just what he had
asked. She remembered, however, af-
ter he had left for the office next morn-
ing. It was against her nature to
avoid the Linwoods; they had been
consistently kind. She tried to bol-
ster up her resolution. “I'll have to
stick by my husband! Jim doesn’t
like Oliver; but it’s hard, not get-
ting on with next-door neighbors.
Besides, I like them!”
Shortly after the Linwood episode
Oliver and Barbara were sitting in
the garden listening to the murmur of
a dying breeze among the maples.
Barbara's lap was heaped with dahlias
gleaming like clustered gems against
her gown. She was happily conscious
of the possessive gaze Oliver fixed on
more from
When the Greenlough’s !if you ask
Where did you get the ber- a
“If I'd by marriage.
known that— See here, I don’t want {that the Smarts
“Oh, you're terribly hot-headed,
What difference does it make,
anyhow? You both acted like babies,
“It wasn’t so much what he said as
the way he said it. He can’t high-
i hat me and get away with it!”
“Well,” Barbara declared, “I like
the Linwecods and the Reynoldses.
Viola’s one of my most intimate
friends. I haven’t had a word with
Barbara replied | any of them. And I won’t cut them.”
The blood seeped from Oliver's
face, leaving it the color of uncarded
wool. In the center of his forhead
showed a dark, raised line.
“You gave me your word! You'r:
Greenlough, and Greenloughs don’t
brought them over this| “Looke here, don’t you shout at
me like that! I’m only a Greenlough
And I'd have you know
are every bit as
truthful as any of the Greenloughs
under the sun!”
“Prove it!”
“I didn’t give you a regular prom-
ise; and what I did say, I said under
—under compulsion.”
“That’s nonsense! You realized
what you now appear to forget—that
to get along we've got to pull togeth-
er, and that you're my wife——"
“Yes, ’'m your wife; but I don’t
know how much longer I will be! T’ll
not be anybody’s slave, Oliver Green-
lough! And when you tell me to do
things that go against reason, I just
She gathered up the table runner
she had been embroidering and slam-
med it into her workbasket. Oliver
had spoken to her in a way she didn’t
propose being spoken to by anybody.
“I can’t break with him,” she
thought, “no matter what. Life
wouldn’t be worth living.”
She found herself pleading: “Let’s
not fight, Ollie. Try to be patient with
me; and honestly, I'll—I’ll try to do
as you wish.”
He did not rush to her and fling his
arms about her as he had done the
afternoon in the garden, but smiled a
trifle wryly.
“I should hope so. I'd rather be
dead than have people think we didn’t
get on.”
“I’m going to bed,” she said, stifling
a sigh. “I'm tired.”
It was late when she awoke. On
her reading table lay a great bunch
of pink-white autumn roses and a
note. She opened it with eager fing-
ers. Possibly Oliver had relented and
was giving her carte blanche to do
as she pleased. She glanced over the
penciled lines.
Darling. Here are some posies with
my love. Forgot to tell you that I
had to take the early train, and you
were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t
disturb you.
Sometime this morning, I'll call ap
and arrange for you to come in for
dinner and the theatre. We'll have
a regular, old time celebration.
Your man,
She laughed at the ending. What
a queer, captivating fellow he was!
Then her thought sobered. Not a
word indicating a change of mind. As
for his asking forgiveness, she recall-
ed his saying that he had never ask-
ed anyone to forgive him in his life,
and never expected to. It was, she
concluded, against his creed. With a
dull pain in her heart she started to
Barbara had formed the habit of
avoiding the Reynoldses’ house, which
:was on the opposite side of the vil-
lage, across the railroad tracks, but
jone afternoon she was hurrying past
when a familiar voice greeted her.
| “Stop a moment, Barbara Green-
“lough, can’t you?”
i Not for a second did she hesitate.
| She felt buoyed up and she hurried
down the path and grasped Mrs. Rey-
nolds’ out-stretched hand.
“You look like an inspired Greuze!
No wonder Oliver adores you.”
Barbara’s suppressed affection bub-
bled to the surface. “How good to
see you again. Oh, but I’ve missed
you! It’s been ages! How's every-
body 7”
“We're all well. What I want to
say is a trifle awkward. But I don’t
see why we should quarrel just be-
cause our husbands don’t get on.
You're not angry at me, are you?”
Barbara gave the comfortable hand
a squeeze. “Of course I’m not!
{ You've been wonderful to me. Viola’s
the best friend I've got east of Ohio.”
“I'm glad to hear you say that.
You've been neglecting us lately.
We've wondered. It would be silly,
wouldn’t it, for us to fall out over
“I'm sure it would.”
“We'll continue to run back and
forth as usual, then?”
“Why— yes!” Barbara cried,
brushing back a curl from her ear.
“We're just as good friends as we
ever were! Rather better, I'd say,
after this. It’s so square of you.”
She felt exhilarated, this daughter
of the altruistic Smarts, as she hur-
ried homeward. She decided it would
be quite as well not to tell Oliver of
her conversation with Mrs. Reynolds.
The acute edge of his wrath might
grow dull. It didn’t matter much, he
was bound to know before long. And
soon she was on terms with the Lin-
woods again—not to do things by
October flung its russet and gold
over the earth and still Oliver re-
mained at swords points with the
Reynoldses. The misunderstanding
with Jim Linwood (Oliver alluded to
it as a misunderstanding now) had
been given permission to see as much
as she wished of Stella.
No matter how out-of-tune Oliver
and Barbara were, they always kiss-
ed when he left for the office in the
morning and on his returning in the
evening. Seeing him coming down
the street, she would run to the door
to greet him. The time he walked in
and brushed by as though he did not
see her, she decided it was useless to
try to patch things up. Their mai
riage had gone to pot.
Before he spoke, she knew what
was coming. He glared at her.
“You've been to see Mrs. Reynolds!
She’s been coming here! And you
told me you wouldn’t! Can’t I trust
“Not to cut my friends. You can’t
make me! I won’t do it!”
“If that’s the way you feel, our
marriage will be a failure. You with
your friends, me with mine!”
She stood her ground. “It’s a fail-
ure now. ‘—I'm going home. I'm
going to pack tonight.”
She saw him wince, but she march-
ed tc her room. He bounded up the
stairs after her. When she opened
her wardrobe trunk, he grasped ner
hands and gazed at her hungrily.
“Don’t talk like that, Babs! You
don’t mean it! :
me! I—I wouldn’t want to live with-
out you! I don’t want you to ever
think of such a thing!”
She found her voice.
living on the husks of happiness.
through with this armed truce.”
“It’s not an armed truce and—and
I still think the same of you— There’s
no one else—there never has been—"
“Oh, Ollie, Ollie! We've threshed
it all out before! We just don’t think
alike, I s’pose.
py and we're too young not to make
a strike for happiness. No, I'm go-
ing to clear out. Ill live my own
life and start all over again.”
“You mustn’t go, Babs. I can’t get
along without you. I was awful mad
tonight. Perhaps I went toq far. I
guess I have a pretty bad temper.”
“You're all right in lots of ways.
Most ways, Ollie. We've had won-
derful moments.” Her voice faded
out, but she cleared her throat and
began again. “W’re not happy now.
We're two crabs. I'm going away so
both of us can be happy. I'm through
jilting my friends when I know it’s
dead wrong.”
“Well, if that’s the way you feel
about it, there’s no use talking!”
If she held out her arms, she was
sure he would rush to her. She long-
ed to, but could not. The hurt was
too deep and too raw. He strode to
the window, staring out toward the
bay. One lean hand stroked his chin;
brushed his black hair. Then he
whirled suddenly.
“Babs, we’re making a hideous mis-
take! I wish to God you'd stay with
She didn’t reply. Tears ran down
her cheeks, and her shoulders shook.
Oliver his face twitching, went to his
room. Far into the night she heard
him pacing up and down, and she
buried her face in her pillow, won-
dering if any one else in the world
was as forlorn as she.
The telephone’s strident ringing
awakened her the next morning—one
of those hilarious, debutante morn-
ings that occasionally happen in late
October. She had been expecting it
for days—ever since her mother had
written that Nellie and Billie Nicho-
las were East on their wedding trip
and hoped to see them. Sunday, and
Oliver would be home! But shed
have to do the decent thing. She
wanted to, anyhow.
Barbara threw a lavendar satin
peignoir over her nightgown and
rushed downstairs. One thing sure,
she couldn’t act meanly to Nellie
Trevor, who had lived three blocks
“We've been
You wouldn’t leave
We're not a bit hap- |
from the Smarts ever since she could
remember. She would have to ask
them out, and she and Oliver would
have to “pretend,” even if it killel
them. She found herself saying over
the wire:
“Of course, you got in too late to
call us up last night, and it’s not
really early. Come out on the first
train you can make and stay ail day.
Yes, I know how happy you are! I’m
so glad! My, how much we'll have
to talk about. Ollie and I'll be just
delighted to see you both.”
Oliver’s perplexed eyes met hers as
she rose to go upstairs, and she tried
to be casual. “It’s Nellie Trevor
Nicholas. She and Billy are coming
for the day with us. I couldn’t do
anything else. You remember Nell?
Well, I grew up with her. She prom-
ised the folks to visit us. I—I’d hate
to have them—on their honeymoon
and everything—get on to the fact
that we’re not hitting it off, Ollie.”
The next two hours Barbara was
too busy to think of her troubles. In
the garage Oliver was grooming the
car to drive to the stat’on. There
was a scramble to get there in time,
but they made it.
Nellie and Billy were worse than
she anticipated—more blatantly hap-
py. Still, it was nice to see them and
hear all the latest Zanesville gossip.
Nellie hadn't had an easy time, eith-
er. She had been raised by an aunt,
and for years had worked in an office
while Billy was on the road. Some-
times he had been away for months
at a stretch. Now he had stopped
traveling, and they were building on
Linden road. The morning of love
for them!
They got through their dinner,
somehow. Oliver was doing his best,
too. He was ten times as good-look-
ing as Billy Nicholas! But what was
the use of thinking such things now?
In the early afternoon they motored
along the north shore, through Ros-
lyn, Port Washington and the famous
Wheatley Hills. Barbara sat on the
front seat with Oliver, aware that
Billy and Nellie were holding hands,
She wondered if she and Oliver would
ever drive together again. Probably
not. After tea, which Delia served
in the sunparlor, they indulged in a
talk, a foursome. The guests were
yammering about how fortunate they
were, all four of them. It was al-
most more than Barbara could en-
Then Nellie talked. In a dull
apathy of misery, Barbara missed
some of her remarks; but she heard
the allusion to her grandfather and
his red flannels.
“When Billy was on the road, I was
uneasy about him all the time. Afraid
something would happen. And I felt
if anything did, I might as well drop
out, too. It wouldn’t make much dif-
ference to any one. I'm not lonely
any more. I'll never be lonely again!
Never! The people I worked for
weren’t interested in me, personally.
Not a bit. Just my work and wheth-
er I was on time and at the top-notch
of efficiency. It makes all the differ-
ence in the world to be important,
terrifically important, to some one,
and to have him terrifically important
to you.”
“I know,” Barbara murmured.
Nellie chuckled. “Remember my
grandfather and his red flannels, Bar-
bara? He didn’t mind cold weather
if his flannels were intact. Well, a
lovin’ husband’s like red flannels! De-
pendable and comfortable and worth
taking care of! And, Babs, if you'd
been knocked about from pillar to
post as I have, you’d say so, too!”
Barbara felt the blood rush to her
face. She was struggling to think
of something to say, when Billy cut
“If we’re going to make that train,
we’ll have to be stepping. I heard
i talk at the hotel of a special for some
of these plutocrats tonight. But
that’s not for us!”
i “Im afraid you're right,” Oliver
said. “We'll drive over with you.”
{ At the station Nellie and Billy kis-
sed Barbara and promised to tell
everybody back home how happy they
{were and how perfectly beautiful
their home was. Nellie gushed until
Barbara was on the verge of scream-
ing. Her parting shot had been:
i “I think you're ideally fixed and al-
“most as happy as we are !”
Barbara returned to her own room,
where the wardrobe trunk stood, half-
packed. She flung herself in hopeless
agony upon the bed. She had kept up
‘all day, but the strain had been too
, great.
“Don’t be a goop,” Barbara ad-
. monished herself. “You said you were
| going, and if you don’t, you'll be kow-
| towing again. Then you'll be a regu-
lar serf. Might as well wear a chain
jon your ankle with your lord’s name
jon it. Unless you get out of this
your own,”
And generally he made so few move-
ments. She flung a few things into
an overnight bag and snapped it shut.
She visioned him, only a few feet
away, in his scowling dark beauty,
and wondered if she waited a little
longer would he give in.
“I can’t risk it,” she decided stern-
til drops splashed in her face. No
one else appeared to be abroad; wet
leaves rustled mournfully and the
darkness appeared unfriendly, rather
terrifying. At the first cross street
she came within an ace of being run
over and was yelled at by a one-arm-
ed driver. She realized she’d had a
narrow escape, and with a stab of
self-pity wondered how Oliver would
slower in turning out.
“He’d be sorry then for the way he
has acted.” she thought. :
She went doggedly on, choosing the
longer route to the Reynoldses be-
cause it was better lighted and not so
lonely. Mr. Reynolds answered her
ring and his mouth opened
tonishment when he recognized Bar-
“I came over to see you,” she fal
tered. “It’s so late I feared you’d all
be in bed.”
“Oh, no,” he said, taking her bag
and putting it by the hall table. “Glad
to have you drop in.” He went on
talking, as though to gain time.
“We hate to go to bed, y’know—
«ed around her.
house pretty quick, your soul won’t be .
She heard Oliver fussing about.’
She did not know it was raining un- !
in as-|
lose so much out of life.. And we hate
to get up in the morning—expenses
begin. Liable to be up at any hour in
this house.’
Barbara scarcely heard him. “The
die’s cast,” she thought, and realized
that up to this moment she had
hoped something would prevent the
break from becoming permanent. It
was not merely the darkness which
had induced her to come by the longer
way. She had lagged, but she had ar-
rived, and she and Oliver were sep-
arated. He was one place, she was
another. An accomplished fact.
Mr. Reynolds was speaking again.
“Sit down, my dear. I'll tell Fanny
you're here and she”ll be in directly.
If you say so, I'll wake Viola up. The
lazy child’s sound asleep——"'
“Don’t disturb her, please.”
Barbara was apathetically aware
that Mr. Reynolds’ eyes were kindly
curious, searching and something
more. He actually looked pleased !
He must have guessed her reason for
this late visit, when he took her bag,
and she resented the idea that a
friend could be glad she was leaving
her husband.
! “He can’t appreciate - Ollie’s real
character,” she thought.
Mrs. Reynolds came in, enveloped
her in comfortable arms, kissed her
graciously. She appeared casually
cheerful and it occurred to Barbara
that if she had dropped in for after-
noon tea Mrs. Reynolds could not
have appeared more unconcerned.
“I'm leaving one of the best men
God ever made—only strong-headed,”
she stormed to herself, “and these
people seem to think it’s a joke.” She
gulped and managed to say brokenly:
“I want to talk to both of you.”
“That'll be nice,” Mrs. Reynolds re-
sponded pleasantly, “but first I want
you to see my other midnight cal-
ler.” And she ushered Barbara into
the music room and closed the door.
Barbara stood dazed, a little af-
fronted. Then her eyes widened with
amazement. Oliver, his face the col-
or of peach marmalade, his glorious
black hair every which way, was
striding toward her. And now, incred-
ibly, they were sitting in a dimly il-
luminated room, with Ollie leaning
forward, talking with eager intensity.
“Listen, Babs dearest, I've a lot to
say to you.” (She wished he wouldn®
call her by that pet name when all
was over between them.)
“What are you doing here?” she
“Mrs. Reynolds called me in the
other day and talked to me like a
Dutch uncle. She’s a wonderful wo-
man and she’s made me see things
differently. For that matter, I've
been thinking there was something in
the way you looked at things for a
long time.”
“You didn’t talk that way !”
“No, naturally I wanted my way if
I could get it, and the more I weaken-
ed the louder I brayed. To keep my
courage up, I s’pose, but today——"
He passed a lean hand through his
hair, rumpling it still more. “Well,
today was an inferno. All that bill-
ing and cooing, and talk of red flan-
nels, with you and me as far apart as
if you were sitting on one pole with
me sitting on the other. Tonight I
had to talk to some one or bust, so I
came over to see Mrs. Reynolds.”
“I can’t understand at all !”
“The idea that I wasn’t entirely
right has been creeping over me from
the first, darlin’. And you were so
dead sure and such a gorgeous fight-
er, and Mrs. Reynolds was so dead
sure, and those honey-mooners were
so idiotically joyful! I've fought like
the devil to keep from cavin’ in, but
it’s no use.”
“Oh, Ollie,” cried Barbara, “you
mean you're not going to try to make
me do what I can’t do—hate when I
can’t hate?”
“You’ve caught my idea.” He pull-
ed her to her feet and his arms stray-
A warm, contented
feeling permeated Barbara. She had
Oliver and she had her friends. It
was fine; but wouldn’t there be other
people, other squabbles and the same
old thing to live through again?
There must be!
“Listen, Oliver, I wish you’d prom-
ise never to try to force me to do
what I think I ought not to do. I
want to do everything I can to please
you, but—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Babs
darlin’, marriage isn’t a tandem ar-
rangement with the man for the lead
hoss; it’s a span of hosses, stepping
along together, neck to neck. Equal,
see? Like whoever you darn please.
After this, your friends are going to
be my friends, and I don’t mean may-
His words were indistinct, for his
lips were browsing over her cheek. But
she grasped all he said and the heav-
en his words implied.
50,” he added whimsically.
“No, no,” she cried; “the word of
a Greenlough is good enough for me!”
—From the Public Ledger.
Sauerkraut Found Without Vitamins.
{ Sauerkraut is a beneficial and
' health-giving dish but scientists have
I not found it teeming with vitamins,
{ Professor R. Adams Dutcher, head of
‘the department of agricultural and
‘ biological chemistry at the Penn-
' sylvania State College, asserts. :
| Research work conducted at a mid-
| western experiment station revealed
{ the destruction of vitamin C, the
‘scurvy preventative, in the oxidation
land fermentation processes of sauer-
kraut manufacture. It is possible, ac-
' cording to Professor Dutcher, that
| some vitamin B escapes these influen-
have felt had the autoist been a trifle os
| Sauerkraut juice is a good refresh-.
(ing drink in the morning, Dutcher ex-
‘plains. It acts as a mild laxative be-
cause of the salts and acids contain-
ed, and as a result peristalsis is in-
‘creased. Foods move through the
{ alimentary canal as nature intended.
! Lactic and other acids, formed when
cabbage becomes sauerkraut,
' discourage the formation of putrefac-
| dye bacteria in the digestive system.
{ The sauerkraut itself is considered an
! excellent roughage by the Penn State
| scientists.
—Subscribe for the Watchman.
“Pll put it in writing if you say:
have | 3 r
. | a cleansing effect on the mouth and | some having a practical reason for
Goodbye, old year ! Thy world of love
Glows once again on mem’ry’s wings;
Thy world of pain, the heavens above
Will hide in flow'rs, with songs of
That Star of Hope beams out tonigh.—
Go forth in faith with ringing cheer;
Uproot the wrong ! Uphold the right !
And bring to all a Bright New Year.
—Marquis De Leuville
Madame is going to “muff” it again
this winter, according to the latest
news from Paris furriers who are
showing muffs in generous sizes
matching collars and cuffs of the
coats with which they are wearing.
They are not the dainty little ones
of Empire days, just large enough to
toast the fingers; neither are they the
large flat rug variety which could
never be called beautiful. They are
just large enough to be chic as well
as comfy. All shapes are being
shown as well as all kinds of fur.
Max is making a big lynx muff to
go with a charming coat in deep red
velvet trimmed with black lynx. An-
"other in black is trimmed with gray
astrakhan. A very original note seen
at one of the furriers is the little
sleeve-muff which goes with sever-
al of the coats. It fits over one sleeve
so as to form a cuff with such per-
fection that it is with a little shock of
surprise that one sees them removed
and used as muffs.
Another revival is that of real fur.
Very little imitation and cheap varie-
ties will be used this winter. Astrak-
han in all shades will be very popular
as well as broadtail in different
shades, Hudson seal, dyed almost jet
black and calf and poney for sports
coats. Very unique is a bronze-color-
ed hair-seal with full collar and cuffs
of South American skunk in golden
brown and white.
Probably no other dress contributes
so much to a well-groomed appear-
ance as does a set of smart, fresh
white collar and cuffs. They are flat-
tering to every type and every age. To
the business woman and when travel-
ing, they are especially useful because:
by simply slipping on a clean set, one
can always look fresh and dainty.
One should have two sets to fit each
tailored or street dress. It is the
work of only a few minutes to wash
and dress. It is the work of only a.
few minutes to wash and iron them
and they may be attached by means
of snap fasteners.
For silk dresses, the collars and
cufi's must be crepe de chine or organ-
die, but for wool or linen dresses,
nothing is more suitable than to use
the soft, closely woven materials
found in a used flour bag. Its slight-
ly creamy color is more flattering to
the face than a dead white. Several
sets can be cut from a single bag,
bought at a bakery for a few cents.
The stamping is taken out by soaking
the inked places in kerosene or cover-
ing them, washing the material out in
lukewarm water.
There are many pleasing styles,
and attractive ways of trimming these
sets. Simplicity, however, should be
the keynote. Buttonholing and cross
stitch is one effective treatment. An-
other is to use an edging of rather
coarse ecru lace, such as torchon or
Chinese lace, with small medallions
set in the corners.
Strictly tailored but flattering to a
youthful face is the perfectly plain
circular collar with a good pearl but-
ton at the side or back closing. The
cuffs to go with this collar are cut
perfectly straight and button together
like a man’s. In this way, no sewing
is necessary and they can be changed
in a jiffy.
The sets are lined with lightweight
muslin. The neck bindings are made
out of the same material, cut on the
true bias, or of inch-width bias tape
which comes already folded.
For children’s garments, colored
bias tape makes an excellent finish.
Their collars and cuffs should be at-
tached to the dress or romper since
the entire garment has to go to the
laundry so frequently anyway.
Tomato catsup, a correspondent
says, must be eaten hot to get its real
flavor. “Nobody knows how good
that is who pours it out cold from a
bottle. Heat a small quantity and
serve it in a small syrup pitcher.”
When thin tumblers stick together
and there is danger of breaking them,
do not try to pull them apart, but put
them into a pan of warm suds. In a
Tot time they can be easily separa-
If housewives who dislike to find
worms when cutting apples would
first put the fruit in cold water, they
would find that the worms would
leave the apples and come to the sur-
face of the water.
An excellent way to use cold mut-
‘ton is to bake it with tomatoes, using
alternate layers of tomatoes and
meat. The Home Economics Experts
{of the United States Department of
| Agriculture recommend this. A toma-
' to sauce may be used, or the follow-
, ing method may be employed. Place
in a baking dish a layer of fresh to-
~matoes which have been either drain-
‘ed or reduced in volume by boiling.
Add a layer of meat, dredge with
‘small bits of butter until the mater-
;ials are used, arranging to have a
| layer of tomatoes on top. Cover this
{ with a layer of buttered bread crumbs
or cracker crumbs and bake until the
{crumbs are brown. In following this
‘method use tomato, butter and flour
{in the correct proportions for tomato
! sauce, i. e., two level tablespoons each
of butter and flour for each cup of to-
{ matoes.
| The buckle is smart again. This
season selects the sort of buckle that
is expressive of the age—usually
| modernistic in design, and having a
| definite decorative value in the
scheme of the frock by reason of its
{ jewel-like appearance. Semi-precious
i stones are used extensively, notably
crystal and onyx.
Buttons are seen in various sizes—
existence, others used for colorful
| contrast, and still others, notably
| thine-stone-studded large for
———-The Watchman gives all the
inews while it is news.