| i = — — Bellefonte, Pa., June 24, 1982, —— THE BIG PROBLEM Now Comes the college graduate, His sheepskin in his hand, To clarify and mitigate The evils that contaminate This worried land. He knows the wherefore and the why Of all tae cosmic plan, His mind is soaring in the sky, Aflame with notions far too high For mortal man. Beneath his calm, unruffied brow Idyllic visions throb. He dreams of noble conquests now But soon he will be wondering how To get a job, CLAIR WAS A WONDERFUL GIRL You don't have to tell me, my dear! I know every tongue in West- brook has been wagging its little wag about Claire and every one else concerned for more than a year. That's why I want to tell you the whole story. I feel that if some one would explain just how it was—well, 1 suppost it would be too much to hope that even people would under- stand, but it might stop some of the poisonous stories that have been going around. They met at school, you know. Claire and Del. Claire was the cam- pus queen. I mean she really was. I think nearly every man in school cherished a more or less hidden yearning to go out with her, and every girl was flattered to be seen with her, Those big, lovely eyes, that pale, blond hair, she was a knockout then, just as she is now. There were few coed cats who said she was spoiled and vain and a few other things. But they didn’t know her. I did, and she was won. derful. We were pledged at the same time. I always will think, and it used to hurt a little but I've got over it, that I just slipped into the house under cover of the luxurious fur coat Claire was wearing. I mean we went there together and the girls were so dazzled by her that I probably tagged along, absolutely unnoticed. And when they voted, some one must have said, “Lucia Franklin? Oh, she's the girl who was with Claire!” and the magic of her name carried me over. After that, we were good friends. I'll confess I sometimes wondered what she could see in me—don't bother to remonstrate, I know I'm not beautiful and before I was mar- ried and ‘blossomed out,” as they say, I was even homelier, But that has nothing to do with Claire ex- cept that some of the cats used to say that she went with me because it made her seem better-looking! Did you ever hear of anything so ridic- ulous? I don't think Claire thought much about her beauty. She just accepted it. By the time she was a junior, Claire was class secretary, a mem- ber of every all-campus dance com- mittee, the year's hit in the annual “Vode” and had numerous offers of jeweled hardware from some of the spnootiest vests along Fraternity Row. Then she met Del Long. Until’ that time, she had never really gone with one man for very long. The campus sometimes said that no one dared annex her permanently, but I think it was just because there was no one good enough for her. I must say that Del was a lot smoother than most of the others. He didn't dash forward and lay heart and hardware immediately at her feet. But I'll always think it wasn't technique—just dumbness. He was awfully unsophisticated for a boy as good-looking and well liked as he was, He was magnificent looking! Still is, people say. A wonderful profile and big, wide shoulders. Played football, of course. He had an awk- ward grace about him. Sounds con- tradictory, I know, but if you've. scen some football players you know what I mean. He always look- el independent, too, and as though he could tell all the world to RUE, any minute it started pushing m. Until he met Claire, at the end of their junior year, he hadn't gone out with girls very much. He wasn't any ordinary college boy, you could eg Jat Maybe that explains things a e. Claire asked Del to a house dance first, That was a good old custom of the elect, I mean the most popu- lar girls, to ask some one with whom they'd never been out before. It carried through the summer and next year, our senior, Claire and Del found themselves hero and heroine of the school's most picturesque ro- mance. Perhaps when you went to College, there was one big love that seemed to bathe the entire us in a warm, rosy light. Well, you know how it was then. They were made for each other, or so one de- cided. I'l admit Claire was pretty firm about some things as the year roll- ed along. If Del came late or forgot to telephone often enough, she put her pretty foot down hard. But then he didn't seem te mind, except sometimes at first, for she was so sweet and dear afterward when he'd said how sorry he was and done something nice to make up for it. There was just one troublesome time, I remember the day we were leaving school. Claire and I were go- ing home together and Del had a job to finish up and was going to drive down the next week, About an hour or so before we left, Del came | up. His face looked sort of funny, | then paused and seemed to give up. And there were |I guess he had sense enough not strained and set. black circles under his eyes. He had a funny old broken-down looking car, you know the kind. Horrible! But on the campus people | find they had been invited to stay In fact, they thought at one of the grandest places in €¢idn't mind. almost pounced on her, . scrapheap, it was wonderful because Del was | driving it. He said he had something to tell Claire and asked us to come out to the car. I backed away with excuses about packing, but he said, “You | come, too, Lou.” When we were out there, he turn- ing ed to Claire and said, “Sweetheart, I can't come to Westbrook for a while—a long while, maybe.” For a second, Claire looked as though some one had slapped her. Then she burst out laughing. “Dar- ling,” she said, didn't you get a wink of sleep last night? Your eyes look terrible.” He asked her if she was listening She said, “Of course, Del, but vou're talking such nonsense. You know you're coming. You have to meet mother and father and we're going to have so much fun. Oh, dear, now don't get me all upset just when I'm leaving,” she said, looking so sweet and coaxing. “I wanted this to be a happy day, with us teli- ing each other good-by and knowing we'll meet again in just seven days.” He raid something like this: “Well, you see, Claire, to be frank, I haven't nearly enough money. We can't get married just yet, sc the best thing for me is to work hard so we can. I've been thinking it all out the. last couple of nights.” I don't know exactly what else he said, but he looked intense and serious, as though he wanted more than anything, to be understood. Claire flared up. “Del, don't make money the excuse,” she said. ug you want things to be over—— “Oh, Claire, I don't at all.” That was Del, almost frantically. You could ses he didn't, He was crazy about her. As though any one wouldn't be. “But don't you see, don’t you understand that I sort of owe it to myself to see what I can do now that school is over?” “I don't see at all,” Claire said, “I suppose the next thing you'll say is that you want to take that coach- ing and teaching job at Outlands— Outlands!” Her soft voice ridiculed the pame and she leaned back her head and laughed. Claire looks marvelous when she laughs. Del's face looked funny, sort of fierce. “That's exactly what I was going to say,” he said. “You've al- ways laughed at Outlands—but after all, it's near home and home's where mom and dad are.” She was looking straight ahead at the row of trees bordering the campus, He went on: “You see, I want to make—aw, heck—make something of myself, all by myself—only that, sounds dumb.” “I'm afraid it does,” she said help- fully. But you couldn't blame her for being hurt, could you? “There's this, Del. If you really care about me, you'll come. After that, you could do whatever you wanted.” “It isn't fair to put it that way, Claire,” Del said. “I could say if you loved me, you'd come to Cutlands.” He winced a little as though he were afraid she mould laugh again. She looked a little mysterious in- stead, “No, Del, you know I couldn't do that. For many reasons, If you don't want to come, it's all right.” “You mean it would be the—the end?” he asked. “You don't seem to mind letting me go.” That was Claire. “Perhaps it's better——"' “Claire, I can't let you go,” Del said. She put her hand on his arm, her head against his shoulder. “I'll never ask anything of you again,” she begged, “only come this time and after that I'll do anything you say.” Oh, he came down all right, I knew he'd keep his word and per- haps that's one reason I was so sur- prised when—— I must tell you about the day he came. It was funny. There he drove up the main street in that perfectly preposterous old car of his. How it made the trip, I don't know. It rambled along, rattles to the right and to the left. Claire looking like a Jalry. Suineas, and I were waiting in re's gorgeous big car. The chauffeur looked far more well-turn- ed-out than Del. But I was glad to see the tramp. There was some about him, At that time I felt, “Well, here's a real! man.” You see, we'd been playing : to him. go around with some of Claire's friends and the young men were pretty gosh-awful. The reclining kind, tea- cup on knee. Oh, yes, frightfully good contract players. But you know, don't you? Del looked as though he wanted to gobble Claire up in one bite. He his huge arms out for her. She laughed a little breathlessly and pushed him feebly. “Del, do be careful,” “You're mussing me,” He drew back at that and seemed to take in the car and eve she said. “Is it a wecling or a funeral?” he | asked, “We've been lunching,” we ex-! plained. Personally, I could sympa- | thize with the slightly alarmed look | on his face. I'd lots rather go around | in golf clothes than in chiffon and | gardenias. But Claire loves dressing up and if I looked the way she did, I would, too. | “Hop in with me and we'll go to! a hotel and get me settled,” he sug- | gested. | Wasn't that priceless? She looked like something in porcelain and if! she had piled in with him in that u would have expected her to break. Of course, she said no, he must leave the car some place and come with us, He did, with just a suggestion of little-boy-aged-6 pout, but he recovered his good spirits as we cruised along the Drive. Claire explained that he was to stay with her family. “But Claire——" Del said and be disagreeable the very first time they saw each other. Most would have been tickled to death with Claire! It was perfect. Father Kilbourne took Del under his protecting arm from that mo- He was simply splendid to him, I saw them lunching downtown soon afier, Mr. Kilbourne was lean- back, cigar in hand, being a little expansive, I could tell, about the good things ahead for Del. You Westbrook. And to be right there er in the day, telling me the wed- | ding day was set. The announcement of the date was in the papers a few days later. I think Claire probably decided the best way for them both was to get everything over as soon as e. so they could settle down by them- selves and be happy. I know she was thinking of Del just as much as her- could almost tell by his gestures self that he was saying, “My boy, our business needs fine, square young men like you!” For a young chap in a fair way to be sitting pretty, Del was look- irz rather harassed. Once I heard him lift his voice and say “But Mr. Kilbourne, I want to tell you—" He was cut off firmly but politely with a wave of the cigar. I didn't see Claire for several cays, although I called her up once or twice. She was terribly busy every time. “I'm taking Del out to the club today,’ she'd say, Or “Del hasn't met the Alexanders yet and mother and I are having them over.” The lucky egg! Why he was get- ting places and doing things that it would have taken other boys simply years to get and do. Not that the Kilbournes move in the very highest circles, but they are just as exclu- sive. And they're up in the heavy money, too. Del telephoned one afternoon a week or so later and asked if he could see me. I was tickled to death, not having had a glimpse of him for several days, and icld him to rush over. He drove up in a shiny new road- ster, dark green with nickel trim- mings. “Hi, fella,” I said, “Struck oil?” He laughed. “I'm trying to figure out whether it's oil—or just soft soap.” We sat down on our porch. “Claire said she couldn't be seen in Bouncing Bertha, the campus chariot,” he told me. “And I said I'd be eternally sizzled if I'd let a guy named Horace barge me around. Mr. Kilbourne heard us arguing and he bought me this in a nice. paper sack. I didn't want to take it, Lot, honest, I didn’t, But he just there- there-my-boy’'d me and—well, what could I do?” “You shouldn't do anything. It's a grand car,” I said. “Isn't it though?” he asked me. His eyes lighted up. “A lotta fun to drive, too. But I'd like it better if I'd bought it myselt.” I said he would buy plenty of things himself when he started working. “You're thundering right I will,” he . “But, say, Lou, this wor- ries me. It's going to take barrels of gold to give Claire as much as she has now. I don't see how I ever had the nerve to ask her to start out poor. Why didn't some one tell me she was rich?" I asked him if he thought those fur coats and snakeskin slippers and imported evening gowns came from the 5-and-10. “Oh, I knew she always looked wonderful,” he said, “but I never realized how much it cost. You know, she seems different down here. At school, she was a beautiful girl. Here, she's a grown woman with a whole world of her own, Aw, Lou, do you mind if I tell you how I feel about ag?" I didn't. But as it happened, he didn't tell me very much. He seem- ed always on the verge of making some explosive declaration and then he'd tighten his lips and look out at the green car. He talked around and around things but never reached a point. I thought what a fortunate man he was to have a girl like Claire, a chance to work for Mr. Kilbourne at what I imagined would be good money and-—well, all the things most people work ten or twenty years for. But he didn't look very happy. He said things like this: know, married so soon, But Claire thinks And: “Damn it, Lou, who do you “You think ought to be boss of a family? | Or should there be a boss?” And, finally: “Oh. Claire is so wonderful, Lou. And beautiful! Did You ever know a woman so beauti- Rather ridiculous things, you know. Not any sense. I told him I thought I understood, although I didn't altogether, but he liked that. “I believe you do,” he said and looked at me a long time. “You're swell, you know,” he said. And somehow I liked that—just, even after saying “You're swell,” how beautiful and wonderful Claire was, I don’t think I was ever jealous find it out the better. Del went on He told me he'd been looking for a job and hadn't found anything that offered even one-third the that Mr. Kilbourne's did. And he'd’ almost decided to go back to Out- lands, only that he couldn't bear to int Claire. “You really love Claire,” I said seriously, He frowned instead of agreeing as promptly as I ted “Yes, I think crazy about her. I think she’s the most fascinating, lovely creature in sometimes I'd like the world. And to break her neck.” I knew what, as a friend of Claire's, I wanted to say. I said it, “Do you want my best advice? Just figure out to yourself that Claire is worth an in the world and that all this preliminary fuss is something that has to be put up with. And figure out also that this job will make money and money's what you need.” “In other words,” he broke in, “do exactly what Claire wants me to 3c} reap) on OPH. 1 The rét OF WY e!” He left. And IT hadn't mentioned that Claire had telephoned me eafli- I really didn't plan to get ¥ do,” he said. “I'm | There was a gorgeous picture of Claire with the story, a full-length view of her standing by a window hung in black velvet. She wore a white satin evening gown and look- ed like an angel. The story had quite a lot in it about the charm- ing and popular Miss Kilbourne and all the things she'd done in town and on the campus. At the foot of the column it was mentioned that Mr. Delbert James Long had also at- tended the university. Of course, for the next two or three weeks every one in town was giving Claire a whirl, There were tea es and bridge-luncheons and evening functions. And she seemed to live on it; to look more and more radiant all the time, instead of a little bored or fatigued, as you might have expected. And Del, though I saw him less often, as so many of the parties were the all- women kind, looked more and more strange. I couldn’ understand him and it worried me. I had been so fond of Del and now he seemed to be like a different man. He wore a set, humorless smile when he was at a dinner or a dance, and when I saw him on the street he looked dazed and gueer. His eyes were bloodshot most of the time, I thought if he were taking to drink- ing heavy, Claire ought to be told, and yet I didn’t want to meddle. As yet he hadn't gone to work for Mr. Kilbourne. I asked Claire about it and she confided to me that he was drawing a salary, but that she and her father thought it better for him to wait until after their honeymoon before actually keeping office hours. It relieved me about his drawing a salary. He probably didn't feel so dependent any more. Four days before the wedding Claire had a Trousseau party just for her most intimate friends, There were eight or ten of us, with her mother fluttering in the background. Her things were simply gorgeous. She had about twenty-five pajama sets, including some mandarin out- fits and a black velvet arrangement that simply wilted you, it was so divine. And lounging robes. And piles of the most beautiful hand- underthings you ever saw! The girls were just leaving when Del came. He looked a little strange, but he was pleasant enough, and said “Hello,” to every one, and even let himself be teased by some of the more coy guests, [Everyone but Claire and Del and me went out and I turned to tell Claire good night, Del had gone over to her. “Did you telephone that woman today and tell her we wouldn't take he house ?" he asked. “She says you ‘“Yes, I did,” she said sweetly, lifting her long-fringed eyes to his. “You see, darling, I couldn't live in that place—sweet as it is. The flowers are lovely and those old trees. But it's too far from where things are doing. So, after I thought it over, I knew you wouldn't mind. I called the other place where that divine big apartment is and they said we could have it if we decided to- day. So I rushed down and made a deposit.” She looked adorably con- trite, ‘Oh, Del, I'm so if I've! been too impulsive. But I liked it so much. There's everything there and it's near the club and a lot of the girls. That other house, well, it wasn't really modern, you know. A breakfast nook instead of a room. And an upstairs, And it's miles from a soul I know.” “1 the fact that I would | be there wouldn't make it any more attractive.” Del said that. “But, darling, you wouldn't be there during the day,” Claire said. ‘““And the fact that the apartment is just twice as much didn't make any difference, either?” he asked in a queer voice. Claire said she was tired, and please, not to scold her, she'd had such a lovely evening, “Let's talk things over later,” she said. “You've been saying that to me for three months, Claire, he said. “And I think the sometime later had better be right now. You agreed with me, or at least you let me ' think you did, that we were to have a small wedding. And I understand now Toure having eight bridesmaids. Eight! And a lot of fuss before and | after. I would have let that go. The wedding is the girl's business, I'm only the man that's getting married. ot Claire: when le: raved t! But after the wedding, where we're her. She was horn to have men mad | about her and I wasn't. Some of us. are like that and the quicker we after a while, | to live and what we're to do—well, that's at least half mine!” Claire looked nervously around to see if her mother was in the offing, and then she turned to me. I sup- pose it was terrible of me, but some- how I just couldn't leave, and I had the feeling they didn't want me to; that they didn't want to be alone together, even then. “Don't make a scene in front of Lucia, please, Del,” Claire said. “Let's don’t quarrel. You're just tired.” There had been rumblings before, | but this was the first time he really blew up, “Damn it, I'm not tired!” He simply roared at her. “Am I a man or am I a paper doll you've cut out’ (of a ? Lucia must know all about it or she's blind! I'm going to settle things right now. I'm going to have something to say about what we do.” Claire looked at me appealingly and I rushed to her. I couldn't imag- | ine a man turning such a brute all ‘of a sudden. | “Del, for heaven's sake, | | alone,” I begged him. “I don’t know | what's come over you the last few | | weeks, Claire has been so wonder-' | fully happy and you seem like a dif- | ferent man. ‘This ought to be the most thrilling time of a girl's life.” | “Oh, my God!" cried Del, and] rushed toward t ‘por. He turned for a moment ai his mouth was twisted. “Claire,” he said, and you could tell he was trying to keep calm, “will you consider taking the house and letting the apartment go if I promise to try very, verv hard to do everything I can to make you happy there?” 14 Del,” she said, tears in her ey-s, “don't ask me to, Del. Let's take the apartment and then I'll do anything you want me to.” He went out, Claire sobbed for a little while, 1 against me. And ther she locked up with a shaky half smile. “He'll come back,” she said. “I know he will——" I said good night and left. Out- side the house I saw the dark-green roadster run into the driveway. I tiptoed over and popped my head in- side, but it was empty. I thought perhaps he had gone to his room at the Kilbourne’'s' by the side entrance, but there was no light in his win- dow, I got in my own little car and drove toward home. “Claire has the most marvelous self-control,” I told myself, “If any one had roared and shouted at you that way, Lucia Franklin, you would have started throwing things. Oh, I do hope they'll be happy.” Just then I saw a little way down the boulevard a big, hulking figure striding along, shoulders hunched over, the pale night lights shining on his hatless head. It was Del. I drove slowly, want- ing to stop, and yet feeling that per- haps he would rather be alone, I didn't know what I could have said to him, either. That night I didn't sleep very well. I tried to think about Claire and how sorry I was for her, having to marry a man that could turn in- to such a tyrant for so little a rea- son. But I thought about Del in- stead. Well, of course, you know the rest. Only perhaps you didn't know that I saw him early the next morning. I think I must have been hoping that I might because I went down- town before 9 and drove around the streets in an absurd way, Finally | I remembered my appointment with the dressmaker and parked the car. Just as I was getting out, I saw! Del bumping along in Bouncing Bertha, that horrible old car of his. He looked wilder than ever, one el- bow slouched over the sagging door, his dark hair standing on end. He hadn't shaved and his clothes look- ed as though he'd slept in them. When he saw me he stopped his car alongside mine. “Hello,” I said, over his bad humor. “Goodby,” he said. “You might tell Claire you saw me, though I wrote her a note, I wanted to tell her good-by but I was afraid if I saw her, she'd cry, and then I would ve weakened again. You remember I said not long ago that she was worth anything in the world? Well, I found out she wasn't. There are some things''-—and this he said with a gesture of his long arm—"“no wo- man on God's earth is worth!” He looked at me a long moment or so, as though he wanted to say something else, but he just said: “So long Lou,” and stepped on the starter. The car, with a sigh and a jerk and a quiver, rolled forward, picking up sped as it moved down the street. I stood on the curb, gaz- ing after him, simply numbed. What surprised me most of all was the look I'd seen on Del's face. He was radiant. There were dark circles under his eyes and he luok- ed as though he hadn't eaten or slept for weeks, but—well, he look- ed like a man that has just escaped death and found out how wonderful it is to be alive. He looked glori- ously happy; as though he wanted to yell and sing! Claire was wonderful about it. She cried in my arms a little. but she was awfully brave, My neart ached for her. And now, she's married, I hear. I don't know much about the man except that he was lucky to get such a wonderful girl. That's all, really. Cluire was ht | about one detail, wasn't she? did come back, only it was nearly a year later. Oh, my dear, you mustn't leave So soon. You don't know how it is to have some one from West- brook here in Outlands. Besides, Del will be home in just a few minutes and I know he'll want to see you.— By Mary Stanley. trusting he was WORRY—THE DRIVER'S BANE Mental lapses are a far more im- portant cause of automobile acci- dents than is commonly believed. While the reports of accidents may give physical causes, such as reck- less driving, wrong side of the road, cutting in, etc.,, those may only be symptoms of a disturbed mental state, asserts Dr. H. J. Stack of the National Bureau of Casualty and Surety Underwriters, who says: “Extreme hurry or worry caus- ing intense preoccupation, fatigue, elation or excitement, or slowed | down reaction as a result of the in- | dulgence in alcohol or other nar-' cotics may be behind an accident, Many of these mental conditions are within our control.” He suggests the following precautions as preventa-. tives: 1. Take a short rest or let some- one else drive the car when you have been driving for a long period at night. 2. Be especially alert when hurry- ing to work so that you can keep your mind on your driving. 3. The best place for the confirm- ed back-seat driver is at home, i 4. Don't day dream driving in a car or crossing the street. 5. Control your temper. If the | traffic cop calls you down, probably | let her you deserve it. 6. If you have a superiority com- | plex, forget it when you get behind | the wheel, i 7. Don't become a speed maniac. This mental disorder is serious and contagious. A serious accident seems pa to be the only cure for its victims ‘work women must do. | of FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN DAILY THOUGHT Lord let me see the hidden beauty In the commonplace; And let me catch the melody Above the day's turmoil; Give me a vision of the love Behind the sin-scarred face, And let me know the blessedness Of dull, soul-testing toil. Paris.~The small town woman who wants to be smart will spell her summer chic with color. Scores of gay little frocks, scarfs, jackets and caps have been produced by designers to brighten suburban wardrobes, Polka-dotted silks, smart flowered prints, stripes and plaids are used for both cestumes and accessories for the woman who lives outside the urban crush, A simple dark wool coat should be the basis of her wardrobe, designers say, since with one frock it is suit- able for more occasions than a tail- ored suit. It may be navy blue, brown, dark gray or black, but the frock which goes with it should be gay. “Prints” is Paris’ favorite advice for an all around Main St. frock. A dark blue foulard spattered with jagged dots of crimson, green and beige may be worn with a dark blue coat, a red chip straw hat and a red bag, and a brown and green shadow plaid frock may accompany a plain brown coat. Many of these little print frocks have elbow length sleeves so that they are ready for wear at both bridges and teas. Little frocks and suits of wash- able silk such as shantung and crepe Olympic are Paris’ newest offering to the smart suburbanite for less formal wear. Many of them are brightened by accessory sets of hat, scarf and bag in polka-dotted silk or linen. A beige shantung suit has a sail- or hat and scarf of green and beige polka-dotted silk, while a pale blue suit is touched up with accessories of navy blue and white striped linen, For days at home, porch parties and equally informal affairs cottons are everywhere. Printed muslins, gay ginghams and even upholstery chintzes are fashioned into nonchal- ant short-sleeved frocks often com- bined with contrasting color. By Mrs. Walter Ferguson —Opposition to the parisitic wo- man in our civilization is growing more marked. Yet that opposition can hardly be consistent so long as men reserve to themselves the right to select the And this trend is pronounced in most utter- ances of the average man. He wants woman to work but he wants her to work only at certain tasks which he will specify. The whole hullabaloo is an insidi- ous movement to get women back into the kitchen. And it is now be- ing urged in the name of patriotism. Yet those who shout for this ap- parently fail to realize that there are not half enough kitchens to hold the women and far too little domes- tic labor to keep all the women busy even for an hour a day, Moreover we are told that women buy nearly all the manufactured luxuries, or that they are bought at our instigation, and that prosperity depends upon a large selling volume. How then could away wo- men's jobs actually help? The whole thing is a muddle. Everybody knows that. But let us at least try to be consistent and reasonable when we plan for eco- nomic stability. In nie first place, two moves by men and women are necessary. The must take every child out of fac y mill and field and substitute adult labor at a decent wage. They must give to every woman the same pay for the same work that men receive. This is the sensible place to begin in our reconstruction program. Then our educational efforts should be altered, We spend too much money upon those who cannot take and do not really desire a cultural education. Boys and girls should be taught to work with their hands as well as their heads, especially if their heads are not so well stuffed with gray matter. Domestic labor must be liftea to that dignified status where it has always belo . The housewife must be given her rightful share of fam- | ily income, not because her husband | ves her, but because she has earn- i it. We should advertise the home in- stead of the cabaret as the center of true happiness. Family life must be reinstated as a civi force and marriage elevated to an intelli- gent rather than moving picture af- fair. To get back to sanity, we'll all | have to co-operate. —Jelly tumblers with tight-fitting covers are most useful articles for ' the picnic basket. They serve as but- ter crocks, sugar bowls, gelatine ' pudding molds and receptacles for meat or vegetable salads and devil- ed eggs. Plenty of oiled paper is essential, and one must always re- member to separate articles with strong odors and tastes—such as pickles, bananas, coffee or spiced things. ’ Cold Tomato Soup.—4 cups toma- toes, 3 cucumbers, 2 tablespoons | sugar, 3 teaspoons salt, 12 teaspoon pepper, 2 cloves or garlic. Slice but do not peel two cucum- | bers. Cook all ingredients slowly in jour cups of water for 30 minutes, | strain and cool. Peel and slice third cucumber and soak in vinegar. Serve these thin slices on the icy cold soup. This amount is sufficient for six. Rhubarb Conserve~Chop three pounds of rhubarb and one-half each figs and dates. Combine these ingredients and mix with three unds of sugar. Simmer until thick, stirring often.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers