__PAGE TWO
“The Totem Pole”
By M. WILLIAM DENNISON
Editor, Penna. News Service
Harisburg, Feb. 10—The wailing and gnashing of teeth heard
hereabouts these days is enough to send any struggling dentist into
delerious rapture.
Basic cause of the enamel-chipping is the billion-dollar budget
Governor Duff last week—in a moment of apparent despair and sheer
determination—plopped under the noses of the members of the Legis-
lature.
Republicans in general and the
Governor have proclaimed in a
sweat that the budget is a “fine
working affair.”
Democrats in general—who act-
ually hold the tip end of the purse
strings by virtue of the fact that
some of their votes are neded to
get appropriation measures passed
—are standing on top of the pile
fussing over the budgetary docu-
ment thrust on their desks.
Behind the scenes the activity is
intensive with every means pos-
sible being exhausted to work out
some plan whereby the budget will
meet with everyone's approval.
As a result there may be some
cut-backs. Grampaw Pettibone as-
sures us — from the scrambled
word he has — that no blanket
approval is now in order.
Some of the humanitarian phases
of the budget the gents on the
Democratic side of the battleground
wholeheartedly approve. Some of
the other items that seem like too
much fiddle-faddle are coming in
for close scutiny.
By and far the members of the
1949 General Assembly are letting
it be known that they are not going
in for any more pulling of wool
over the eyes than absolutely neces-
sary.
“It may be just the post-war
trend,” grunted Grampaw Petti-
bone as he thrashed about trying to
extricate his foot from a shiny
brass cuspidor.
The Duff proposal to up the gas
tax a cent or two a gallon is meet-
ing with greater opposition than
expected.
~ Even some of the Republicans
have sided with the Democrats in
frowning on this measure — the
sole tax increase asked by the
Chief Executive.
The prediction is hereby made
that when the shooting dies down
motorists will’ find their gas tax
upped, if only one cent.
As in almost every other phase
of activity, Pennsylvania has on
its drawing boards a gigantic high-
way improvement program. Funds
on hand and available under the
present set-up are simply not ade-
quate to handle it.
Chances are very good right now
that the spendiferous program now
under way and running into mil-
lions of dollars, will be given the
green light.
The Duff stream clearance pro-
gram—also floating around in the
million-plus class—will be pushed
through, acording to Senate and
House Leaders.
Before the smoke of battle dies
down, taxpayers may rest assured
that House Democratic Leader Hir-
am G. Andrews, of Cambria County
will have fired his last punkin’
ball from his battered flintlock.
BACKACHE
‘For quick comforting help for Backache,
Rheumatic Pairs, Getting Up Nights, strong
cloudy urine, irritating passages, Leg Pains,
circles under eyes, and swollen ankles, due
to non-organic and non-systemie Kidney and
Bladder troubles, try Cystex. Quick, complete
satisfaction or money back guaranteed. Ask
your druggist for Cystex today.
YOUR HEALTH
by Luzerne County Medical Society
The Bible says, ‘Day unto day
uttereth speech”.
For many people, speech after
speech only cluttereth,
Stammerers and stutterers have
the same speech defect, which is
the repitition of sound and the in-
ability to utter.
About one out of every 100 per-
sons stutters and more than half
of these are men.
A clutterer is a person who talks
rapidly and jumbles his words.
Stuttering is not an indication
of low intelligence and a high per-
centage of stammering is found
among persons of unusual ability.
Charles Darwin, Lewis Carroll,
and Charles Lamb were stutterers.
It is singular that stutterers do
not stutter when they sing or talk
to themselves or enact roles on
the stage, and they usually have no
difficulty in talking to babies or
to animals.
Several theories are advanced re-
garding the cause of stuttering.
Some believe it to be the result
of unrhythmic breathing, blood de-
ficiencies, heredity, fear, timidity, or
psychic shock.
Stuttering, while not contagious,
may be acquired from association
with stutterers if one has an in-
herited tendency toward the con-
tition.
Children who stutter should be
taken to a reputable speech clin-
ic.
Just as a left-handed child should
not be urged to use the right hand,
neither should words be supplied
when a child stutters.
The stuttering child needs an at-
mosphere of ease and relaxation
and encouragement in group activ-
ities.
The best speech clinics in this
country are free.
DO YOU KNOW?
A total of 18,500 American farm- |
ers were killed accidentally during
1946, an average of 70 deaths for
every 100,000 farm residents.
A Sad Tale
Young Barry Edwards bounded
into the house delighted Monday
evening with a new pet—a white
mouse. He promptly released it,
gave it the run of the house, and
invited the neighbor youngsters in
to enjoy its antics. At bedtime—
after considerable persuasion—the
new pet was ‘tucked in” in the
cellar where it appeared to be com-
fortable and happy.
Come Tuesday, Barry trudging
home from school, found a half
grown kitten, numb from cold and
in need of food and shelter. Like
the Good Samaritan, he snuggled
it under his coat, took it home and
fed it warm milk.
At bedtime—after considerable
persuasion— she was “tucked in”
—in the cellar.
‘ And that is the end of the tale
of the mouse.
Re Y HT
TE Tr,
Boost Yok SE
Place a value on your time—pay by check.
We offer the Special Checking Account Plan,
only cost $1.50 for 20 checks. No charge for
deposits; no minimum balance required. No
monthly service charge.
Your name is imprinted on every check and
you are provided with a gold stamped wallet
designed to hold the checks on one side and
a register of deposits and checks on the
other side.
“Ye KINGSTON
NATIONAL BANK
IH
ELF-RESPECT
at 2
AT KINGSTON CORNERS
FOUNDED 13vwe
Member F.D.I.C,
THE POST, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1949 :
Loves Awakening
Not too long ago I read in the
paper that most marriages, if they
survive, end up in a beautiful
friendship. In looking back over
the past eleven years I am more or
less in accord with that statement.
I met Norm, a widower of two
years and father of three children,
late in the summer of 1935. I was
fresh out of Girl Scout camp and
simply lousy with information on
how to light fires without matches,
how to tie knots, and last but not
least how to make shore in an
overturned canoe. I might add that
this type of knowledge was a com-
plete loss once I met Norm. It
would be unfair to say that Norm
ended the career of a potential
Juliette Lowe but he certainly help-
ed. For five long years I had been
an avid scout. I was covered with
merit badges and carried enough
equipment around on my belt to
tire a mule; but I loved every min-
ute of it.
That summer, however I had be-
come a wee bit cynical. “Big Chief”,
the head of the camp, a sexless
creature with years of scouting to
her credit, had decided to run the
place like an Indian reservation in-
stead of a Girl Scout camp. The
tents were referred to as tepees,
the counsellors were given Indian
names and as a result our tepee
became the headquarters for all
un-Indian like activities. I had be-
come the undisputed leader of our
group when I refused to call our
junior counselor ‘“Pocohantas’’. The
unfortunate girl was a squat blond
plagued with an uncooperative thy-
roid and I simply could not bring
myself to call her ‘Pocohantas”.
My just punishment was another
day of latrine duty.
Two days later my position as
leader was threatened by a freckle-
faced inmate of our tepee. ‘‘Freck-
les” had almost succeeded in
drowning Pocohantas during life
saving class that morning, Unfort-
unately I had not been a witness
to the joyous spectacle as I was
busy at the latrines. My best friend
brought me the news fresh from the
waterfront and we two decided
that it was time for me to do some-
thing equally daring.
Every evening before taps we
gathered around an open fire and
sang songs. Of course with the
new regime the campfire of old
had been named council fire and
“Big Chief” held sway there every
evening. On the night that I re-
fer to, “Big Chief was in fine spir-
its. Earlier in the day she and the
eunuch who tended the vegetable
garden had found an old arrow
head; so naturally she was greatly
enthused and wanted everybody out
for archery practice early the next
morning. My friend and I sat there
thinking over the possibilities of
poisoned arrows with sadistic grins
on our faces. Soon it was nine o’-
clock and we were rushed off to
bed, and supposedly to sleep.
After fifteen minutes of agoniz-
ing silence and forced snoring we
could usually convince Pohohantas
that we were asleep and she would
slink away in the shadows and join
her fellow counsellors at the dying
fire. That was when our day be-
gan. Our good mothers kept us
supplied with cakes and cookies
and candy so we gorged ourselves
with sweets and thought up dev-
iltry for the following day.
We all more or less wondered
what the fair Indian maidens talk-
ed about after we had gone to
bed so I was appointed a committee
of one to find out. The idea was so
revolutionary that I slipped into my
moccasins and sallied forth leaving
instructions for no one to fall as-
leep until I returned. I flitted
through the woods as quietly as I
could then crawled on my stomach
to get close enough to hear the
conversation, The topic under dis-
cussion was what measures would
be taken in case some unwary
male should stumble into that hot-
bed of virginity .The girls all
pledged to defend our honor in
case something like that happened;
but from the expression on ‘Big
Chief’s face I could tell she was
hopeful her tepee would be the
first one in the path of rape. 1
crawled quietly away and had just
started my mad dash to safety
when a blood curdling scream filled
the air. The gardener was taking
a little stroll and I crashed smack
into him. In a second we were sur-
rounded by disappointed females
and I was marched off to “Big
Chief’s tepee to explain the mean-
ing of such actions.
= Eu
THE DALLAS POST
iy Bip ne “More than a newspaper, The Book Worm
By Phyllis Smith a community institution”
a ESTABLISHED 1889
Member Pennsylvania Newspaper
Publishers’ Association
A non-partisan liberal
progressive newspaper pub-
lished every Friday morning
at the Dallas Post plant
Lehman Avenue, Dallas
Pennsylvania.
Entered as second-class matter at
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the Act of March 38, 1879. Subeerip-
tion rates: $2.50 a year; $1.58 ®ix
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a be obtained every F Bis
at the following newss! 3
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Aurant,; bsnaver (Wn, Evans’
Drug Store; Trucksville—Gregory's
store; Shaver's Store; ldetown—
Caves Store; Hunteville— Barnes
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Fernbrook—Reese’s Store.
When fuyuesliug & chauge of ad:
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Allow two weeks for changes of ad-
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We will not be responsible for the
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cus scif-addressed,
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ye responsible for this material for
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Minimum charge 50c.
Unless paid for at advertising rates,
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"huredave
Preference will in all instances be
given to editorial matter which has not
previously appeared in publication.
Editor and Publisher
HOWARD W. RISLEY
Associate Editor
MYRA ZEISER RISLEY
Contributing Editor
MRS. T. M. B. HICKS
Sports Editor
WILLIAM HART
Change Meeting Place
Kingston Township Supervisors
have passed a resolution to change
their meeting place from Kingston
Township High School to the home
of Supervisor Arthur Smith on Car-
verton Road, Trucksville.
Library Book Club
Back Mountain Memorial Library
Book Club will meet at the Library
Wednesday, February 16 at 2
o'clock. Mrs. Dwight Fisher will
show her miniature furniture with
a newly added antique shop.
Mrs. Fred Howell, newly chosen
president, will preside.
I had visions of “Big Chief”
scalping me, then wandering around
the reservation next day with my
mousy brown scalp dangling from
her favorite Indian beaded belt. I
hoped my friends would realize I
had died for a good cause, and let
“Freckles” take over until she met
with a similar fate.
“Big Chief” stormed around her
wigwam and ordered me off the
grounds the first thing in the morn-
ing. I explained that Mother was
in Greenland giving her unsolicited
approval of what Sir Wilfred Gren-
fell had done for the Eskimos and
that no one was at our home in
Providence. My dear brother was
giving his all to the Boy Scouts at
Camp Yawgoo; so I casually suggest-
ed that I could join my aunt and
uncle who had a cabin on a pond
two miles from the Girl Scout
camp.
The next morning I departed in
disgrace and it didn’t help matters
any to have my uncle ask “Big
Chief” if she was the head squaw
when he called for me.
One day shortly after, I took a
walk in the woods around my
uncle’s cabin and came across the
Smith tribe who were living in the
camp next to ours. Norm claims
it was love at first sight as I emer-
ged from their privy in my Girl
Scout shorts. He was trying to
start a fire in an outdoor fireplace
and I could tell from the manner
he was going about it that he had
never been a Boy Scout. I sauntered
over and asked without benefit of
an introduction, “Do you know the
right way to start a fire?” He
glanced up with a twinkle in his
eye and said, “I always take two
Girl Scouts and rub them together,”
and my heart stood still.
Alfred D.
“As near as your telephone”
363-R-4
Bronson
FUNERAL DIRECTOR
SWEET VALLEY, PA.
AMBULANCE SERVICE
—
This President, Mr, Lincoln
By Ray Shiber
=
On a sunny November day about
eighty-six years ago, a tall gaunt
man stepped to the speaker’s plat-
form built upon a Pennsylvania
hillside, where so lately the smoke
of battle had rolled. He was a path-
etic figure with his shoulders bowed
as if by a great burden, and the
look of abiding sadness in his eyes.
He did not smile as he gazed out
on the 20,000 faces of his audience.
For two minutes he spoke, in-
frequently glancing at two sheets
of paper held in his hands. Then
he sat down amidst profound sil-
ence. That was on November 19,
1863. To-day the words of Abra-
ham Lincoln's Gettysburg address
which dedicated the National Cem-
etery are carved in steel and mar-
ble, respoken by orators, hailed
by students and cherished by the
people of the United States.
It is evident from eye witness re-
ports that the listeners were so
surprised at the beauty of the ad-
dress that they could not believe
the President of the United States
had finished. After that silence
there was what spectators describ-
ed as a tumultuous outpouring of
applause — and then there was
the prophecy of Wayne MacVeagh,
a young lawyer, who later was to
be a cabinet member and an am-
bassador. Among the first to re- |
alize he had heard the voice of
history, MacVeagh grasped Lincoln’s
hand, “You've made an immortal
address,” he said. Lincoln had not
been scheduled as the orator of
that day.
On July 1, 1863, just four months
and nineteen days preceding the
now celebrated address, two armies
totaling 170,000 men came together
at Gettysburg. General Robert E.
Lee had 78,000 men in his army of
Northern Virginia. Major General
George C. Meade, commanding the
Army of the Potomac, had 92,000
men. When Lee retreated at mid-
night, July 4, he left bthind 2,592
killed. In two weeks 1100 more
were added to this list. 12,709
were wounded and 5051 were miss-
ing, Meade counted 3072 Union
dead and 5434 missing.
The battle with its terrific loss
of life marked the turning point
of the Civil War. When Judge Wills
was authorized to arrange for the
dedication of the cemetery, he in-
vited Edward Everett, ablest ora-
tor of the times. Everett was a for-
mer Governor of Massachusetts, am-
bassador to England, and the pres-
ident of Harvard University.
Mr. Everett was asked to give the
oration of the day. Judge Wills
asked the President to make a few
appropriate remarks.
Lincoln sat on the platform be-
tween Secretary of State William
Henry Seward and Mr. Everett. L.
H. Stockton gave the invocation.
The much admired Mr. Everett rose
to speak. Handsome, suave, and
eloquent, the sixty-nine year old
statesman held the attention of
his audience for two hours and sat
down amid great applause.
Perhaps no one more correctly
estimated the impact of Lincoln’s
Gettysburg Address than Mr.
Everett, who was too sincere not
to acknowledge it. The very next
day he wrote to the President. “I
should be glad if I could flatter
myself that I came as near to the
central idea of the occasion in two
hours as you did in two minutes.”
The President’s speech had come
from the depth of his heart.
SS te
Poet's Corner
Be BN
The Best Years of Our Lives
(after seeing the movie)
Charles Stancavage
Sugar Notch
Perhaps no loving face will greet us
Through the best years of our
lives;
The tender moments that we knew,
At last the bugle’s note—it dies!
And silence shrouds the
i loving
voice, ¢
And loving arms bereft—
Of comrades true and gals we knew,
The best years of our lives.
And some will wear a broken heart
When guns shall speak .no more;
And some in silent pride—
Must wear “the Purple Heart,"
Forevermore.
SC Barnyard Notes §
Robins arrived at Harvey's Lake last week on the coldest day of
the year. Mrs. Gilbert Carpenter reported two in her yard, 2nd ¢ ex-
citedly called Frank Jackson to verify their arrival.
Happily we had nothing to do with the failure of the State Gant
Commission’s campaign last week to rid Lehman Avenue of its rab-
bits.
The kids, Myra and Ralph Rood were the chief saboteurs.
Unfortunately the representatives of the Commission following
their usual clumsy procedure arrived on the street sometime Thurs-
day with truck load of freshly painted green box-traps and presently
began setting them in back yards and along overgrown fence rows.
It was interesting work and had the kids excited. The game pro-
tectors probably reasoned that the recent fall of snow would pre-
vent the sprightly little rabbits from obtaining their usual supply
of food and make them easy fall guys for the box traps baited with
bits of apple.
But they failed to reckon that the big fat rabbit in Ralph Rood’s
yard got that way because Ralph and Mrs. Rood have been feeding
him all winter.
They also failed to reckon — a common failing of game protectors
—that people resent the intrusion of others on their property with-
out permission. The game protectors failed to extend that courtesy
to the folks who pay the taxes on a considerable amount of property
along Lehman Avenue.
The result was inevitable.
The box traps had an uncanny way of springing themselves with-
out capturing a rabbit.
Myra took a less subtle way to let the Commission know how she
felt about rabbits, as well as mice, and all things that travel on four
legs; she sloshed through the snow and gathered up the traps. She
found one under the apple tree near the brush heap we've kept all
winter as a home for a nest of rabbits that were born last season. oe
Another she found hidden under the raspberry canes.
She piled them up in front of the barn and appended this note:
“Please do not trap our rabbits, as we've been feeding them all
winter.”
Just to make sure that no Lehman Avenue rabbit would be fool
enough to fall for a few bits of rotten apple in a box trap, she then
Sheused bits of carrot and lettuce leaves all over the property.
Now if any rabbit falls for the Commission’s bait she can be sure
he didn't grow up on Lehman Avenue where food is plentiful for
every timid thing that travels on four legs.
Asked how the rabbit trapping is on Lehman Avenue, Floyd Har-
ris, who has been a silent observer since the beginning, commented
on Saturday, “I think it’s kind of slow.”
About all the Game Commission has accomplished so far on Leh-
man Avenue has been to give us a nice little subject for Barnyard
Notes.
Our good friend John V. Heffernan forwards the following for
the Barnyard. “Seems to me to have exactly the right country fla-
or” he adds.
ENCOUNTER
The boy was sliding down the hill,
Rosy-cheeked in the white and still
Of winter afternoon. The fawn,
A baby thing with legs too long,
Sprang from the frozen thicket; stood
Spotted and downy in the road.
The boy reached out to brake the sled;
The fawn turned an inquiring head;
And, for a breath, for one heart beat,
Eager and innocent and sweet,
Their glances met . . . .
The runners then
Creaked on the icy crust again.
The sound was fear!
The little fawn
Leaped for the shadows and then was gone,
For a: long moment nothing stirred . . . .
The boy searched for a special word
And found none.
Epitome of ecstasy.
“Gee!” he whispered,
“Gee!”
—Abigail Cresson. in the Herald-Tribune.
Country Flavor
SLIDING ON THE CRUST
Doesn't seem as though the
Weather Man brings the hard, shin-
ing crusts today that there were
a generation ago. Along in Febru-
ary a boy watched eagerly for a
thaw spell and hoped it would be
followed by a quick hard freeze.
Then the upland pastures, sidehill
fields and meadows were covered
with a shining crust. It was a fairy
world on a crystal clear near-zero
morning following a day or two of
warmth and mists. The sun’s slant-
ing rays reflected jewels of topaz
and ruby, diamonds and pearls.
The steam from the valley accom-
modation train made great white
billowing spirals in the air; the
jingling bells on passing sleighs and
horses made music in the cold air.
A lad was proud of his slender
speedy bobsled. Sisters begged for
the long ride from the top of the
pasture, down the sidehill mowing,
across the road by the R.F.D., box
and far out on the level meadow.
The sled skimmed like a swallow
over the icy crust; the rush of bit-
ing-cold air brought tears to frost-
ed cheeks. But it was the fastest
travelling that humans knew in the
days before horseless carriages and
airplanes speeded up man’s every-
day life.
The bobsled was the most impor-
tant vehicle. But there are men in
cubicles of cement and brick can-
yons of teeming cities who remem-
ber another sport when the crust
was smooth and icy. In all forms
of transportation there is nothing
for hair-raising uncertainty and un-
predictability that equals sliding on
a steel shovel down a steep in-
cline. The old sawdust scoop from
the barn tie-up was shiny and
smooth. It was big enough to seat
one comfortably. It was wonderful
fun to sit down on it at the top of
the steep pasture, grasp the handle
with both hands and take off. One
went at terrific speed; he flipped
round and round; he took unex-
pected side sallies and neck-jerking
reversals. When one went over a
hump he never knew how far he
would fly before a jolting putdown.
It was a wild ride, but dressed in
heavy underwear, pants, overalls,
mackinaw and knitted cap, with
wristers, heavy felt leggings, rubber.
shoes and thick mittens one took
spills and upsets in stride. Sliding
on the crust was inexpensive sport.
Nowadays one needs wooden slats,
special clothes and all sorts of par-
aphernalia connected with stylish
winter sports. The countryman be-
lieves crust sliding was just as
much fun as anything yet develop-
ed.
Invites Inquiry
TIOGA CALF RATION
A Sound Feeding Program
ORDER SOME TODAY
Produces Satisfaction
Phone 337-R-49
KUNKLE, PA.
DEVENS MILLING COMPANY
A. C. DEVENS, Owner
Phone 200 ;
DALLAS, PA.