— —
Bellefonte, Pa., July 11, 1930.
DREAMING OF HOME.
It comes to me often in silence
When the firelight sputters low—
When the black, uncertain shadows
Seem wraiths of the long ago;
Always with a throb of heartache
That thrills each pulsive vein
Comes the old, unquiet longing
For the peace of home again.
I'm sick of the roar of cities,
And of faces cold and strange;
I know where there’s warmth of wel-
come
And my yearning fancies range
Back to the dear old homestead
With an aching sense of pain,
But there'll be joy in the coming,
When I go home again.
When I go home again! There's music
That never may die away.
And it seems that the hands of angels
On a mystic harp at play
ITave touched with a yearning sadness
On a beautiful, broken strain,
To which is my fond heart wording—
When I go home again.
Outside of my darkening window
Is the great world’s crash and din,
And slowly the autumn shadows
Come drifting, drifting in.
Sobbing, the low wind murmurs
To the splash of the autumn rain,
But I dream of the glorious greeting
When I go home again.
BARS.
(Concluded from last issue.)
The warden thought the matter
over with a queer expression on his
face. After a moment he asked.
“What attention would Suntly give
to you?”
“Suntly will listen to a message
from me,” Cotter answered slowly.
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, Mr. Warden, I know him.
I know Henry Suntly. I—I grew up
with him.”
“Is that so? I'm surprised to hear
that. But tell me, Cotter, do you
know this man Martin who is ac-
cused of the robbery?”
“I never saw him in my life,”
Cotter answered steadily. “But I
know he isn't guilty and I believe
that Suntly is out to convict him.
I read it all in the papers—what
Martin said about his own innocence,
and the public promise Suntly has
made to clean up the town. He's
making an example of Martin, Mr.
Warden. Making an example of an
innocent man.”
“How could you possibly know
that, Cotter?” the Warden asked.
“You've been cooped up here for
five years.”
“Yes, sir. But I know!” In his
earnestness, Cotter leaned over the
desk and pressed his tense face
close to that of the Warden. “I
know, sir,” he repeated. “I know!
I know!”
“How do you know?”
snapped.
“Because I heard the crime plan-
ned right here within these walls!”
Cotter rasped hoarsely. “Knowing
who did it, Mr. Warden, I know
who didn’t do it!”
Kelsh rose abruptly from his seat
and braced his fingertips on the
edge of the desk. He returned Cot-
ter’s steady gaze.
“You know full well what you're
saying ?” he demanded.
“As God is my judge,” Cotter an-
swered simply.
“And the message you would send
Suntly is what?” Kelsh asked.
Kelsh
“Just what I have told you, sir—
that I know this Martin is innocent
because I know who is guilty. There
were two of the robbers and the
newspaper accounts of the crime
tally exactly with the plan I heard
perfected here in this prison before
the men were liberated. Martin
had nothing to do with it.”
“Suntly ll never believe you,”
the Warden grunted. “He'll pay
no attention to your story.”
“Suntly will believe me,” Cotter
Snapped. There was fight in his
face, for the first time since he had
donned his suit of blue. “He will
Mr. Warden, He's got to! Tell him
I sent the message, Mr. Warden.
Say this to him: Cotter knows
many other things. Tell him I
a i at to convict Martin.
e m in those v
Mr. Warden.” Sy ards
“Are you out of your head?” |
Kelsh gasped. ‘Who are you to
send such a message to the Dis.
trict Attorney?
Henry _Suntly is the biggest political
figure in the State? He can be
Governor if he likes.” :
“Tell him what I say,”
repeated steadily. ‘Please tell him,
Mr. Warden. I know who he is. I
know what he is, too. That's how
I know he'll believe me. Let him
be Governor if he likes, But de-
liver my message or have an inno-
cent man sent up here to worry
your heart out for five or 10 years.
I've told you the gospel truth, Mr.
Warden. The responsibility is yours.”
There was no doubting Cotter. He
spoke with the ring of truth in his
voice. The Warden paused, trying
to assemble these amazing facts in
his mind. After a time he demand-
ed:
“Who were the two men
planned this thing?”
Cotter pressed his lips into a
straight line. His eyes blazed scorn
of the question.
“You'll be apt to lose your flower
Cotter
who
work unless you tell,” Kelsh said,
his eyes narrowly watching the
convict.
The face of the man blanched, and
a queer sound struggled into being,
but died in his throat. He pulled
his blue cap taut between his fin-
gers, then said slowly “I'd boil in
hell, Mr. Warden, hefore I answer
you that.”
‘I'd be the same way in your
place,” the Warden said, as though
thinking aloud. Then: “Go ahead
Cotter, with those roses at the far
end of the porch. IT make you this
promise: I'll tell Suntly personally
all that you have told me, If he
insists on questioning you later that’s
not my fault.”
A smile of delight spread over
the convict’s pale face. ‘Thank
you, Mr. Warden. Deliver my mes-
sage exactly as I told it, please.
Be exact, and Suntly won't bother
me.”
Then he was gone through the
door on to the porch. :
It was the visit of a horticulturist
which served once again to break
the commonplace relationship be-
tween Kelsh and Cotter. The dis-
play which Cotter was able to offer
in the prison flower bed roused tre-
mendous interest. A horticulturist
society sent a
asked that Cotter might write an
article for their magazine.
Kelsh found no regulation which
prevented such a procedure, and he
promptly granted the permission.
Cotter just as promptly declined to
do it.
ter,” he told the visitor, “but the
world outside this prison has ceased
to exist for me. One memory of it
I treasure. There is no other in-
terest left me. I live for my flower
beds here, and want no contact
with the world. It never did any
thing but lie to me.”
“You disappointed that fellow,
Cotter,” the Warden said, when
an article of your own.”
Cotter smiled wanly and shrugged
an answer.
“By the way, Cotter,” the War-
den continued, “Your prophecy about
Henry Suntly came true. I deliver-
ed your message exactly as you
requested. He seemed to understand,
he would immediately look into the
matter of the Roger Martin case.
“I presume, inasmuch as I have
nevey heard of a trial, that he
| found you to be right and liberated
Martin.”
“Yes, the convict said, ‘he found
me to be right and liberated Martin.
It was the only just thing to do. I
watched the papers closely and
saw that the indictment against the
fellow had been nolle prossed.”
“What a break for him!”
said. “For all you know he’ll never
have the faintest idea that you are
the man who saved him.”
. “That is a small matter,”
said slowly. “I like to have the
knowledge that I did the right
thing.
to my cell with me at night.”
“In some ways,” the Warden said
with the utter frankness that offi-
cials inhis position affects toward
State wards, “you're just as balmy
as a coot.”
“Perhaps so,” Cotter nodded
agreeably. “But I'm happy in it.”
“Exactly,” Cotter nodded vigor-
ously. I'm a very much happier
man than you are, Mr. Warden.
My only recollection of the outside
‘world is a happy one. I found a
very beautiful thing out there, sir.
Took it for what I thought it to
be. The fact that it was imitation
did not prevent its showing me
what ‘the genuine could be.”
“You're getting pretty deep for
me,” Kelsh grinned. “Those books
you read are pretty heavy stuff.
But I'm glad that you're settled
and happy. The thought struck me
the day I talked with Suntly that
the contrast between you two
boyhood friends had suddenly grown
pretty sharp. He's a big public ser-
| vant “and you—well—you see what
I mean.”
“I see perfectly,” Cotter nodded.
“But I wouldn't change places with
Suntly or any other man on earth,
Mr. Warden, Everything in my
thoughts is beautiful. I would rath-
er have a bed than the bunk I
sleep in, but I'll gladly sleep in the
bunk in order to remain here with
my flowers,” he smiled.
Kelsh seemed for the moment
serious. “You know; Cotter,” he
said speculatively, “I get a real
thrill out of the situation you and
Suntly present. The business of
justice being directed by a murderer
doing natural life, through a power-
ful District Attorney who dangles
on the end of a string the lifer
“I had the truth, that’sall,” the
prisoner answered, but as he spoke
he became uneasy and turned away,
The Warden detained him.
“I'm not going to question you
against your will, old man,” he as-
jSured him, “but I've given the mat-
{ ter. quite a little thought. You've
been here a long time, now, Cotter.
A long time even as time in prison
goes. I've grown to like you and
understand you. You don’t seem
morose, yet your crime. Cotter, is
the sort thatis apt to prey upon one’s
mind.”
“I committed no crime, Mr. War-
den,” the convict answered steadily.
“What I did was anything but a
crime.”
“You've always admitted the kill-
ing of your wife! Kelsh gasped,
“Oh, yes! But you see that only
from the material side. If Ithought
I had done wrong I would be mis-
erable,” Cotter answered. Kelsh
laughed and shook his head.
The Warden paused again, and
his eyes fixed themselves steadily
{upon Cotter. There was tremen-
! dous suggestion in the glance,
| the convict met it with no sign of
i understanding.
| “All politicians would like to be
i Governor,” Kelsh prompted. Cotter
merely nodded in the affirmative and
| again turned as though he would
‘leave. Once again Kelsh stopped
{ him.
| “It’s pretty evident,” he said,
{ “that you've a lot of weight - with |
| Henry = Suntly. I've been thinking
i what a situation would arise if he
i were Governor. It might mean a
| pardon for you, Cotter.”
; “No,” the convict said slowly.
{ “No, Mr. Warden, it wouldn't mean
a pardon.” A
| Kelsh shrugged. “Well, keep your
| secret if you like,” he said. “But
{I'll watch with a good deal of in-
, terest. Suntly, my friend, is the
next Governor of this State just as
representative who"
“You cannot understand the mat- .
finally the horticulturist had left.
“He wanted to use your name over
asked how you were and told me
Kelsh |
Cotter :
I like to take that thought
pulls, is an unusual picture indeed.” :
but |
sure as you're a foot high. I have
never before known a case where
the Governor was under the thumb
of a natural lifer. It'll be fun to
watch.”
Cotter made no reply,
Warden smiled wonderingly. <All
right, Cotter,” he said. “Go back
to your flowers. Every man has a
right to his own thoughts.”
“Thank you, Mr. Warden,” Cotter
mumbled. “The finest thing you
have ever done was to give me
these flowers. I love them, sir.
Life would be unbearable without
them. I will always be happy so
long as I have them.”
“Okay, old man,” Kelsh answered
kindly. “I guess I needn't tell you
that you'll have them as long as
I'm Warden here,”
“I hope that'll be as long as you
wish, sir.” :
“It’s got to last quite a while,”
Kelsh laughed. “What good would
I be for anything else at this late
day?”
Henry Suntly conducted his cam-
paign for the Goverorship of the
State along the lines of reform. He
laid a heavy hand upon corruption-
and the
ists, trained the light of investiga-
tions upon State institutions of all
kinds and carried to the people of the
electorate a conviction that such
{a man as himself was needed at the
helm of state affairs.
i Kelsh read every campaign speech
the man made, and he wondered
more and more about the strange
| relationship between this outstanding
public man and Cotter, the natural
lifer who worked in his garden.
He knew without asking that Cot-
ter was following the campaign with
an interest even closer than his own.
But he never sopke to the man of
it; never tried to make the convict
express an opinion.
When election day rolled around
Kelsh received the returns at the
prison.
The campaign had centered very
largely upon issues of reform in
State institutions, and the keepers
of the prison, from the warden
down, felt a greater interest than
usual. The feeling was general that
Suntly’s election would call for
sweeping investigations and many
: changes in methods.
{ Many of the prison employees
gathered in the offices and watched
, the returns on election night.
i By 10 o'clock the big metropolitan
daily that had most bitterly oppos-
ed Suntly conceded his election as
Governor. Kelsh received this news
with mingled emotions.
! None knew better than he the
, dire results of an inexperienced
hand endeavoring to change ‘the
routine of a prison. Yet, in spite of
, that, his first thoughts on reading
{ of the election of Suntly was not of
the prison and the troubles that
; must come to it. It was of the
“silent natural lifer, Cotter,
| Attuated by he hardly knew what
| the Warden stepped from his office
; out. into: the prison yard and stroll-
. ed toward the cell block where Cot-
ter was locked. He nodded to the
! guards as he entered.
They met in the room reserved
for the use of the Parole Board.
{ The Governor was the more ner-
;vous of the two. He paced ‘the
| floor while a guard went for Cotter,
{and when the man was brought in
{he gasped at his first sight of him.
i “I'm sorry, John,” he said stam-
i meringly. “Sorry to find you like
this.” He glanced suggestively at
ithe Warden, who started toward
i the door. Cotter put out a detain-
ing hand.
i “I want the Warden to stay, Hen-
‘ry,” he said quietly. “You need
offer me mno sympathy. I'm the
happiest man in the world.”
{ There was a moment of embar-
i rassed silence during which the con-
vict seemed to realize that restrict-
ed use of words had left him par-
tially inarticulate.
“I came to see you,” Suntly said,
1 “because the Warden requested it.”
{ “The Warden demanded it,” Cot-
. ter corrected steadily. “I want you
; to know that there is nothing I
i want for myself from you. I de-
mand only that you allow the
{ Warden to remain here in charge
iof the prison as long as you are
! Governor.”
1
“That's going a little far,” Sunt-
‘ly said slowly. “After all, I'm
“Governor of this State and must
| think first of the people who elect-
ied me. I have not been entirely
i satisfied with the reports that come
: to me.”
i “Stop!” Cotter snapped suddenly.
| He stood in the center of the room
with his baggy clothes hanging
~about his person and his untidy
‘hair a mat upon his head. But
Do you know that | trust you, I've never even hoped to; there was power about him.
“I say, Henry Suntly,” he pro-
, nounced slowly, “that you will do
jas I ask. I am going to tell you
: something you never knew-—some-
i thing that you only sugpected—some-
i thing which has hung over your
‘head all these years.”
{ “Your own case,” Suntly inter-
i rupted hastily, “has been in my
{ mind, John. I had thought of con-
i sidering a pardon. After all—an
| actress” —
{| “Do not stop me, Henry,” Cotter
i said. “I want no pardon from you,
{nor from anybody. I got you here
to tell you the truth. You and the
{| Warden. For her sake, Inever have
told it before.”
He paused as though gathering
his words, then leaned for support
upon a chair and, with his eyes
fastened steadily upon the Gover-
| nor, told his story. So simple and
so stark was it that they did not
interrupt him.
“That day,” he said, “when the
: pistol came so ready to my hand,
{ Henry—you don’t know what was to
have happened later. You don't
know that Sunny, as we always
called her, was going to you. She
had been vith you before, Henry.
You had both lied to me about
that.
{ “And that pistol-—she had that,
Henry.” ‘He laughed shortly. ¢She
was taking it with her to kill you!”
“We were all so young: then, and
she . was - so: inexperienced. I _ find
ino fault with you now. I merely
state the facts. She had trusted you,
Henry, and you lied to her, as she
did to me. Then you scorned her.
I know, Henry! Oh, how well I
know! You wrote her that letter,
I remember every word of it. I
see it now.”
He raised a gaunt hand stained
deep with the color of earth and
seemed to point at the letter there
before him, He was transported by
his own story back to the hour of
his crime.
“I came home earlier than usual,
he said slowly. “Sunny was just
leaving and I knew that something
was wrong. Her eyes were wild and
‘she cringed before me, afraid. She
tried to slip past me and reach the
door. I caught her hand, and the
bag she carried jerked open. The
pistol was there. It was the first
thing I saw, and I snatched it from
the bag in amazement. Sunny
fought me to get it back.
“She was quite insane, I think.
She taunted me with her own deceit
—and yours. Then she hurled the
letter at me. It fell at my feet and
I read it, with the gun clutched in
one hand and Sunny twisting there
on the divan.
“You told her she was a fool,
Henry. A fool to bother you and
run the risk of losing a husband
who could provide well for her, and
hadn't brains enough to see that he
(had no other function. You said to
her, Henry, that she wasn’t the kind
of a woman a man could take seri-
ously. Then you asked her to be
sensible and burn the letter and let
you alone”.
| Once again Cotter stopped. His
face was twisted and his eyes burn-
ed with a dull agony that held the
others speechless.
“A sordid mess, eh, Henry?" he
sneered finally. “You never knew 1
saw the letter, perhaps. You
thought that Sunny had done as
you wished with it, and I had dis-
covered another intrigue in her life’
and so killed her.
“But you never were quite certain.
There remained always a doubt in
your mind. The bigger you grew
Henry, the more this worried you.
Now you have the truth. I shot her
because sheloved you, Henry. Loved
you and hated you, and sooner or
later would have killed you.
“I loved her. So I killed her and
kept her name clean. It was for
her I did it, just as I said that day
when she lay there before me. I
hated you—hate you now as a man
hates a creeping thing, Henry. But
you were both very young.
“They found the gun in my hand,
Henry—but not the letter. Where is
the letter?” He laughed sharply,
his voice high and threatening to
crack. “Where is it? They never
found that.”
His gaunt hands gripped the chair
and he leaned forward and glared.
“I—know—where—it—is,” he said,
spacing each word: “I know where
to get it and hand it to the news-
papers, Henry, with the signature of
their Governor blazed across its
face.” He laughed again. “Yes,”
he repeated, “I know where it is,
and so does the Warden. We alone
know.
! “Tell me, now,” he finished sud-
nly, “that the Warden remains
‘here. Tell me that, Henry. And
tell him. And tell this committee
of yours, and the newspapers.”
The next day Warden Kelsh stood
again on the porch above the garden
and looked down upon the stooping
brown figure there at work among
the flowers.
“I see by the morning papers, Cot-
ter,” he said, “that the fight between
the Governor and myself has come
to a happy ending. According to
this account his visit yesterday was
for the sole purpose of checking
up on the situation here. What
he saw caused him to express com-
plete confidence in my incorruptible
efficiency. ”
“Yes, sir,” the convict nodded,
faint smile about his lips. “I'm
glad, Mr. Warden.”
“There’s no reason,” the
said, “why your case shouldn’t
brought before him.”
“But there is, Mr. Warden,” Cot-
ter said earnestly. “As God above
judges me, there is. I want no par-
don. I want to remain here, sir.
Here I have found the simple things
that never fail a man. Here, among
the flowers, I have found peace and
happiness and quiet. If you are my
friend, there will never be a pardon
sir.”
“I can understand that feeling,”
Kelsh nodded. “I know of at least
three men here who would not go.
You are the fourth. They have been
here so long, you see, But with
your education—your background”—
“I have no worries now. I'm set-
tled for life. I want no change.
What others think is hard I. have
come to accept with no suffering. My
books and my flowers are my own.
The confinement of prison is a pro-
tection more than a curse to me,
sir.
ciety, so does it keep society away
from me.
ceased to mind. They are less hard
than what I should have to meeton
the outside as a pardoned murderer.”
a
So
official
be
“As you wish. But I am your
friend, Cotter. Your real friend.”
“I thank you, Mr. Warden.
They stood looking at each other
a moment.
Kelsh shrugged at last. “I guess,
after all, a man can’t deal anything
but the
with.”
Cotter smiled faintly and nodded,
“That letter,” Kelsh said at last.
“That one of Suntly’s
kept.
ing hidden
it, how did you get it
out of the apartment, Cotter, before |
coming up here?”
The gardener straightened and a
smile twisted at his lips. “That
letter,” he said, “I burned, Mr. War-
den, before they found me standing
over Sunny. I burned it in the
fireplace and ground the ashes un-
der my heel. I had to do that to
protect her, But.I knew that Henry
Suntly would be afraid to challenge
me. A manmgwho is a coward witha
woman is doubly so with a man.”
“He's a smart politician, Cotter,”
Kelsh said sagely. ‘“He’s due for
eight years in office, so we've little
If it keeps me away from so-
The restrictions I have
“Life is a queer game,”
cards given him to play.
which you
How did you hide it, or hav-
SUBSTITUTE FOR
COTTON DISCOVERED.
Alma Alta, Kazakstan, Soviet Re-
public, U.S.S.R., (UP)—Believing
that it has discovered a cheap and
effective cotton substitute in the
Asiatic “kendyr” plant ,the Soviet
government is undertaking its culti-
vation on a large scale in Kazakstan.
Alexander Krasnachokoff who
heads a special Kendyr Trust creat-
ed for this enterprise, told visiting
correspondents that within two
years the kendyr crop will amount
to at least one-third the present
cotton production in the Soviet
Union, Eventually he foresees a
place in the world market for
kendyr which may deeply encroach
upon the economic domain of cot-
ton,
A state plantation of 45,000 acres
is in the process of formation for
the purpose at Zil-Orda, where a
dam is being erected for irrigation
uses on the Syr-Darya river. Several
smaller plantations are already func-
tioning in other parts of this region.
The plans call for an extension of
the undertaking to northern Cauca-
sus and Ukraine.
Kendyr—a mongolian word mean-
ing fibre—carries the official Latin
designation “apocynum sibiricum.”
In Canada, where it is sometimes
found, it is designated less elegant-
ly as dog’s death.” The plant grows
in bushes, with long stems compos-
ed of a hemplike fibre which when
boiled or subjected to certain chem-
ical treatment, can be used for weav-
ing textiles.
M. Krasnachokoff, now engaged
in developing kendyr, started his
Soviet career more spectacularly as
President of the Far Eastern Repub-
lic, in China. He spent many years
before that in the United States,
where he was especially well known
in radical circles of Chicago. After
the China presidency, he was en-
gaged in Soviet banking, a job in
which he was accused of living too
expensively and punished
with a prison ‘term. The present
chairmanship of the Kendyr Trust
is the first rung of a ladder on
which he begins once more to climb
into public life here.
He explained that kendyr is a
much hardier plant than cotton. It
grows in colder as well as more
arid regions. This enables its culti-
vation in large areas where cotton
cannot be ' acclimated. Moreover,
kendyr production per acre is far
greater than cotton yield and involves
less investment of labor.
A mechanical device developed by
Soviet engineers makes it possible
to weave kendyr with ordinary cot-
ton spindles. Mills for kendyr tex-
tiles are going up in Moscow and
in Alma-Ata,
BEFORE BUYING FORD STOCK
CONSULT YOUR BANKER,
A warning against fraudulent
brokers and promoters who are of-
fering stock in foreign Ford motor
companies has been issued by the
Betiter Business Bureau of Detroit, in
conjunction with the national bet-
ter business bureau and affiliated
offices throughout the United States
and Canada.
Relying on the good will and in-
tegrity of the Ford name, thousands
of persons throughout the country
have purchased stocks which either
turned out to be spurious or were
not delivered at all, the warning
said. There is no way of estimating
the financial loss involved.
“There are a number of fraudu-
lent concernsin various parts of the
country that represent themselves
as brokerage houses and that offer
stocks in various foreign Ford com-
panies,” the statement from the
Better Business Bureau said.
“Several of these companies
on the partial payment plan. They
offer stock for a stipulated down
payment anda fixed sum per month.
Before the final payment becomes
due and before the stock is delivered
to the purchaser, the company goes
out of business and its officers dis-
appear only to begin operations at
another location and under another
name.
“Stocks of the Ford Motor Com-
pany of England, Ltd. and the Ford
Motor Company of France are list-
ed on the New York Curb market
and the prices at which they are
currently selling are printed in the
financial pages of the newspapers.
Nevertheless many persons are being
led by unscrupulous brokers to
sell
pay far in excess of the market
prices.
“The majority of stock brokers,
of course, are honest. Our warning
is directed solely against the fraud-
ulent concerns that carry on their
fleecing of the public under the
guise of reputable concerns. Anyone
contemplating the purchase of stocks '
should first consult his local banker. '
TO TRY TO PHOTOGRAPH
THOUGHT IN MIND.
graph thought
two Frenchmen, Dr. Barduc,
Major Daiget and an Austrian
scientist, Dr. Feerhow. They are
working on the assumption that
thought photography is possible when
a medium concentrates sufficiently on
ia particular idea in complete dark-
ness.
The intense concentration,
claimed, sends out waves of
from the forehead, invisible to the
naked eye, but accessible to the
camera in the same way that ultra
violet rays are accessible.
is being. made by
it is
light
| enough to worry us. But, as you
say, he’s certainly a coward. He
knows nothing of the sort of cour-
‘age you showed in sharing the se-
cret you've kept inviolate until its
telling would help a friend.”
i Cotter turned silently away and
{and bent again to his work. It
iwas as though he buried there in
[the earth the secret which he fi-
I nally had shared, andthat secret took
{root and blossomed and made a
| flowerbed.— ' Copyrighted by the
‘Smart Set.
A sensational attempt to photo- '
and :
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
Daily Thought.
They say the world is round and yet
I often think it square,
So many little hurts we get
From corners here and there;
But there's one truth in life I've found
‘While journeying East and West,
The only folks we really wound
Are those we love the best.
We flatter those we scarcely know
We please the fleeting guest,
And deal full many a thoughtless blow
To those we love the best.
—Lizards, python, water snake,
and other reptile skins are popular
for trims in footwear this season.
Pumps are stepping along, but the
instep strap and oxfords hold their
own.
Overblouses, of a color contrasting
with the suit, are in again. Some of
them actually go over the skirt
with a peplum or belt attached to
cover the skirt top. Every self-
respecting costume now has a belt.
Large, gaily covered chiffon hand-
kerchiefs add a dash to the ward-
rode. Cap sleeves, three-quarter
sleeves and old fashioned “angel”
sleeves are up in arms again.
The latest skirt length is four or
five inches below the knee for street
and sports; eight or ten inches be-
low for afternoon; and full length
for evening.
—For the thrifty housewife’s rec-
ipe files, a left over section proves
useful. It contains recipes for us-
ing left over vegetables nd meats,
hard bread, and sour milk and
cream.
—In modern homes systematic
house cleaning has replaced the old-
fashioned spring upheaval when
tempers and furnishings of the
whole household were usually up-
set together.
—Instead of discarding the large
green outer leaves of lettuce, wash
them carefully, trim off any brown
sections, shred with shears, and use
as a garnish or as the salad foun-
dation.
—Ii may be some kind friend has
sent you a case of ginger ale, in
which case you are singularly bless-
ed in the matter of friends. For
you can prepare wonderfully delicious,
tinklingly cool beverages with the
able aid of iced ginger ale.
For instance, here’s a Peter Piper
Punch which is delightful for chil.
dren—and you know that ginger
ale is good for children, don’t “you.
Combine a pint of grape juice, a
‘pint of cold water and a quarter
jcup of sugar. Pour in a punch
i bowl over a block of ice. Add two
| bottles of ginger ale; do not stir
in order to retain the sparkle and
i carbonation of the ginger ale.
| Then, in case you are giving a
i mid-summer dance, youll want a
; whole bowlful of punch. Here's a
recipe for Ye Olde Wassail Bowl:
| Make a syrup of four cups of wa-
ter, two cups of sugar, boiling ten
minutes. Add twelve cloves, a stick
of cinnamon, six allspice berries and
a tablespoon of pulverized ginger.
| Let stand covered an hour. Strain
iand add a quart of orange juice, the
juice of eight lemons and a quart
of cider. Pour over a block of ice.
,and add a quart of orange juice, the
la garnish add crabapples roasted
until the skins have burst and then
chilled. I have allowed generous
proportions for this beverage—it will
: be enough for forty people, provid-
ling they take just one glassful
i apiece.
| 2a
{ Italian Medley.—There's a bever-
‘age for the cosmopolite. Place the
{ juice of a half lemon, the juice of
| a half orange and a tablespcon of
white grape juice in a shaker with
i a teaspoon of powdered sugar and a
jcup of cracked ice. Shake until
i the ice is well melted. Pour in tall -
| glasses and fill with ginger ale. Gar-
nish with fruit in season and top
off with a teaspoon of ice cream
or orange ice.
A Julep.—Not the time-honored
‘ Southern Julep, but a very modern
' version thereof —is made thusly:
Place a sprig of mint in a tall glass
rand crush with a spoon. Add the
! juice of -one lime and half a lemon,
a tablespoon of powdered sugar and
‘ thin parings from the half lemon.
Place on the ice one hour to ripen,
, Strain; fill the glass half full of the
| mixture, and top with ginger ale.
. Garnish with a fresh spray of mint
, inserted in a thin slice of orange.
—Pillows that have been in con-
stant use throughout the year. may
need freshening. This is particularly
«true if they have been used in a
sickroom. June is a good month for
any of the work connected with ren-
| ovating the bedding, but especially
‘the pillows because of the many
mild sunny days available when they
“will dry easily.
Pillows can be washed by either
of two methods, The first method
of washing them is without remov-
ing the feathers. Scrub the pillow
in a weak washing soda solution,
using a good suds. Repeat in a
second suds if necessary. Rinse in
lukewarm walter, changing it two
or three times. If an extractor is
used, extract, and then dry the pil-
lows on a sheet in a warm place,
preferably in the sun. Otherwise
squeeze out as much of the excess
water as possible and dry in the
same way. Beat the pillows from
time to time during the drying.
The second and more satisfactory
way is to transfer the feathers to
a muslin bag two or three times the
size of the ticking by sewing’ the
edges of the openings of the ticking
and the bag together and shaking
the feathers from one to the other.
Wash and dry the bag of feathers
in the same way as a whole pillow.
After the ticking has been washed
separately apply a very stiff starch
mixture to the inside with a sponge
to close the pores of the material
and prevent the feathers from work-
ing . through. Refill the ticking in
the same way it was emptied.