Decatur Daily Democrat, Volume 25, Number 50, Decatur, Adams County, 28 February 1927 — Page 3

I ferity i. )»>■• MB k „„. sr r >-t oil has never K 'u’manlte't the world U- »•'"“'.. |, to.lav, the p-.wir of HH ! " r 'j nev.r I■• ■■ upp«er« l«t. H *• ChaKtou.. fO R the LUNCH BASKET H . nrettv s>.t !"• ‘ <■>"• ’lilldren Is ■ V'ruut wlotf (•'”* brown bread. Hi naJe called the kinder-

garteu sandwich. Vue a doughnut cutter for cutting the slices. Slip u dark circle Into the white slice and a white one into the dark,

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■ ltien spwd blil "' r llhd vhicsefiring if desired. ■ >e * e -teach a (Mid to like coffee ■ firming the ■> ! » with it. or with ■ ’‘tvhen a <hiM refuses to drink its M ujik give it a straw to drink through, ■ Kn j n g the milk in a pretty cup or ■ natural er: i every child has ■ <„ r sweets sl.otiid be satisfied with ■ pare sugar in some form. Bread and ■ tatter spread with sugar is good; a ■ little scraped maple sugar or a bit ■ itwwmmie ■ m.-B ait en af'er a meal ■ is not harmful Pates, nuts, finely ■ (>„,,]«], mixed with a little cream, ■ makes a most dim.ty sandwich tilling. ■ fruit should never be omitted from ■ the lunch basket, as it Is one of the ■ most Indispensable foods iii a well-bal- ■ anted diet. The dainty, careful paekM inf of 11 I’ llll ' ll is ti st Important ■ means of keeping children well and M happy. Paper napkins are so inexM pensive that one should keep a supply ■ ud hand, to use in lining the basket M and for napkins. ■ A little surprise to vary the usual, ■ is always pleasing to a child. Apiece ■ of randy, a date or tig bidden away in ■ a corner will always delight them. B Fruit Sandwiches. —Bake bananas in ■ their skins, peel and sprinkle with ■ lemon'juice and sugar and mash, then H spread on thinly buttered bread, add ■ a Utile grated pineapple and put two ■ slices together. ■ Rye Ham Sandwiches.—(’hop fine ■ some cold boiled ham and crisp ■ plAles, using one-fourth as imiili I pickle as ham. Mix with mayonnaise dressing and spread on rye bread. Railin Sandwiches. — (’lmp equal amounts of seeded raisins and walnut meats and add tart jelly to mix. Spread on buttered bread mid serve with hot cocoa. itcic-, TyUogwcti. ks ■ the • ri RKITCtIENEV I lift. Westers Newspaper L’niyn.) I ? n every circumstance of our r lives lies stirring knowledge | •"-* -■ c/i.e’b own ca;se; L-.weve** I itrange, Is far from being singuI Ur. Laura bpencer Purtor. GOOD PUDDINGS - ■ A pudding that is good and simple to prepare is the following: Lemon Tapioca

Pudding. — Soak two tablMpoonfuis of pearl tapioca in one cupful of water for t li r e e hours. Turn a pint of boiling water over it and cook

„ until soft, adding a Pinch of salt. Beat the whites of hvo until stiff, turn over them theboil- ,* lapioca, beating all the time. Add i'ih cupful of sugar, the grated rind ~ ] T of t ”’° le mons. Serve cold b whipped cream. "’ ple Tapioca Pudding.—Soak six J.' ,>onnfuls " f Pearl tapioca overw, ' ' ridn add four cupfuls of hot r ) i i „., anc * tWo eu P f,| ls of brown sugar, it lieJ* and hillie ln ,!le oven uniil begins to thicken. Let cool. Ad ! salt ’’ poonful of vanilla, a pinch of Serve in ?' nt " f whl PP ed cream, cream hPrhet Masses with whipped earn on top. This will seFve twelve, and mm? 1 .® lanc Mange.—Soften one Inonen i B / tkhiespoonfuls of gelatin Carameli« ° f “ CUpful l,f cohl ' vater - Ihen Li i onp -half cupful of sugar, boll until' llalf cu,lful of water, die sirnr ” * llck ' sni ”Oth sirup. Lot softened ’ “ llt,lp ’ pour nver ,be strain Into h" 1 WhP ” diss,,lved - Add L o ? lree cu P fu >s of ''cream. I and annin th ° f " cupful of su "" r sugar |« m ' t° f Salt ’ Stir until the flavored nr, i '~^ rate one large, gootfof sugar vX' n<l, ’ lng ° ne ‘ ,,alf CUpfnl of one 'X R " at " lsf ' I,Pat tlie white beat stiff*" T’ Stlff ’ 11,1(1 “PP le nnd i custard- o’ < 1 ' IVe " lt * l ~le following * one egg y ol 2 n : CUP ™ nf rich of SUE->r , ' two tablespoonfuls taste a nd’> >' creat ny. Flavor to P and cool on ice. of tw?ee Torte — Wh lp the whites »!«0 Until stlfr - "Id the yolks, tans. Chop one ev.pfur of pe- I ;oW espoonful°of fl C ’' PfUl ° f sugnr ’ n fill of h a i.|„ f-flonr and a teaspoonthe beaten "J P °’? r nrW R, ™'-V to nuts. Ad,l SCS ’ ,hPn ndd tbe chopped dat es. n)| x PP ,? cu,lfu! of finely cui buttered hr« l , a ' I '' bakp ,n « ’veilhour. br ead-loaf tin for half an

I The I Understanding Heart By PETER B. KYNE "No, you'll not, old Heftier," Monica t poke up. "I’ve examined that demijohn and I Judge by the decreased i weight there's In on too much betting of drinks already. Why, -dtgriff, you're half tight now!" "What if I am?" be defended himself. following the shock of her discovery. ."I reckon you’ve given me excuse enough to stay potted for a month. Nevertheless I’m not ho far gone 1 don't know a girl ha by when 1 1 see one. I'm father o' four girls 1 myself.” "You lose. It’s a boy. Undress it, sheriff, and warm it before the fire, there’s a good sheriff." i "And rub it with some moonshine." , Anthony Carland suggested. "The best substitute I know of for an alcoi hoi rub. Alcohol closed the pores and prevents colds. Be careful not to get , your moonshine baby too elose to the blaze, however, or he'll cay h afire." "Not a chance, Ranger." Bob Mason was speaking. "This little cuss is a salamander. He's been traveling 1 through fire all day and there isn't a ' blister on him. Lord, but he's hungry! Listen to him yelp!” “Where’s you get him. Miss Dale." the sheriff queried. "Bob Mason found him somewhere over in back of beyond this morni ing. and brought him up here to me.” > Bentley gazed down at his prisoner. • “Could you have made your getaway, • Bob, if it hadn't been for this little ; feller?” The convict grinned sheepishly. "I . rode over here behind the fire —that . is, most of it. There were a lot or hot ashes and coals left. 1 might just as easily have ridden north over the burned area, and on into Modoc.” “Yes, and it would have been cooler that way,” Bentley agreed. With an Impulse of tenderness that seemed quite alien in him he reached forth ' and laid his hand on Bob Mason's head. ‘ You're a good feller," he declared —“none better.” Uncle Charley, lying there with ' closed eyes, could not resist the temptation in the conversation. i "Once in every so often,” he mur--1 mured faiintly, “we raise sich in these hillA. I told you earlier in the evenin' ' what's wrong with this boy. His old man raised him a 'gentleman. A gentleman cowman! Hell's fire!" “You be quiet, you little hellion!" Monica admonished the old man. His blue lips twisted in a childlike smile at this compliment so very, very titillating to his absurd nature, and hj : s old daw-like hand crept up from under the horse-blanket and groped pathetically for her. “Monicy," he said softly, and all of the querulousness, the mock ferocity was gone from his voice now, “you ain't here a minute too soon. Your old Uncle Charley's got his marchin’ orders at last.” Monica went swiftly to him. knelt' in the straw and lifted the old bald. head upon her bosom. Her hot tears fall fas’, on the face that was softening now as the Dark, Angel fanned It with his wings. "Oh, dear Uncle Charley, •- tired, darling. You must be brave — you must buck up now. Can't afford Ito lose my Uncle Charley!' # I "Why, I am brave, little sweetheart. I ain’t downhearted. Ain't nothin' worryin' your Uncle Charley, gal. 'ceptin' he ain't goin to have time to| «dgn that deed an’ close that minin' deal for his old Ash-purdiiei'o daug'n ter. Monica, I reckon 1 overdid my self today. I’m a-runnin’ down —like an old clock! My main-spring’s—-busted, pet. I can’t stand —rewindin’. There, there, it’s all right, an' I'm bivouacked for the last time«on my little gal's lovin’ heart. Hold m’. honey. Don’t let your old Uncle Charley be alone at. the finish. II been alone most o’ my life an’ since Ash wept ’tain’t been too pleasant!” The girl drew the frail little form I closer and kissed the marble brow, land for the flit st time it occurred '<> her what a splendid, noble brow it was. Her cool hands smoothed back the long, white, dank locks around bis ears-. “Np, no. you're not going, dear. No you're not. I'll not iet you go.” He opened his eyes and looked up at her with ineffable tenderness. "I been holdin’ on to myself—all -night I -waftin’ for you," he said haltingly. “F'gured I’d last a day or two—longer. No. I ain't got any ache or misery, Monicy. Tried to git some sleep so’s I'd be strong enough to sign my will —wanted to make my will—in your favor—seein’ as how I'd never git to sign the —deed. Git a pencil an' paper, Monicy—an' write, i ,We got witnesses.” I The gill laid him gently back on the straw, brought a paper, pad and pencil and Garland prepared to write. “How in hell does a feller make a will?” Uncle Charley complained. “I used to be a lawyer. Uncle Charley. I know how,” Garland assured the old man. " " He paused, pencil uplifted. “Charles Albert Canfield,” Monica prompted. “I, Charles Albert Canfield, of Dogwood Flats. Siskiyou County, California* being of sound and disposing mind and realizing that I am about to die, do herebv make, publish and de--1 clare the following as and for my last will and testament, that Is to say: “To Monica Dale, daughter of my. old partner ” “Ashford Dale,” Monica quavered. "I pfve, devise and bequeath all props rty of whatsoever nature of which I may die seized or possessed." He bent over Uncle Charley. "Who do you want to name as executor of your will?" “You, Ranger, you. I reckon I’d git to like you, somehow, had

DECATUR DAILY DEMOCRAT MONDAY, FEBtIV ARY 28,1927.

* ; ( -time to—git acquainted.” | "Very well, Uncle Charley. I’ll wtuve my executor's fee In the matter." "Ybu am a gentleman no disputin' that. Thank you, boy. Never mind puttin'up any bonds. I reckon —you're u- white man.” - ' ! Garland resumed his writing. ‘‘Andi I do hereby nominate and appoint' Anthony Garland, of Tantrum Meadow-:. Siskiyou County, California, as the executor of my estate, to serve uh such without bonds or undertakings of any nature whatsoever. Witness my hand tlx!s twenty fourth day of October, A.D., 1925.” 1 "Hurry, son,” Uncle Charley bawdy Whispered. "We ain’t—got all day—to do- this thing!” "We can fill in the form for the witnesses to sign later," Garland advised. “You desire Bob and the sheriff and me to witness your will, do you not. I Tilde Charley?” “Hell, yes!" said Uncle Charley testlily. ' “Anything else now, Uncle Charley, before we lift you up to sign your will?” * “Can't sign it, son. Make —my mark.” • ■» “That’s just as good, Uncle Charley. Any last message?" "Yes, Mopicy! Lift me up. gal!” With his old head at her heart he Whispered brokenly: “Honey—when — you sell —that, please—ship your daddy—an' me—back to Winchester —where we fought—. Want to —camp wlith the unknown —Confederate dead—in the monnd there.” He sighed; a humorous little smile wrinkled his face. “Old comrades of ours, Monicy. Don't want to lie—alone. Why, hell, Ash! Good old pardner! Well, you ol’—placer-minin’ —fool —how —about —yer?” "Quick. Uncle Charley,” Garland cried. "Ten-shun-n-n!” “Here, sir! We’ll stick, Colonel!” Garland placed the pencil in Uncle K Charley's hand, but the limp fingers fell away from it. And qnce more Uncle Charley smileij, "Ain't the mountains beautiful. Ash?” he murmured very distinctly, and t'hen the little old heller of the San Dimas sighed deeply and hailed the sentry at Valhalla's gate. Tony Garland eased him out of Monica's arms, laid him back on the straw and drew the horse-blanket up over his face. "Too many words —too much legal phraseology—the curse of the legal profession," he said bitterly. “He didn't sign his will after all, although I imagine you haven't\lost much by it, Monica. Poor old man! His kind are always millionaires. All they re quire to make their fortunes tangible is a grub-stake to drive a tunnel and cut. the main lead or iode.” He gulped slightly. “That old man had poetry in his soul, Monica.” Tho girl nodded wretchedly. Aril her days she had known the relentless i drive of practicalities, the ultimate stress and strain of an existence where . the bitter battle for bread and butter had given her no surcease for repining. ... A very old man had just died, but over in front of the fire a very young baby was crying lustily —the immutable, tremendous miracle of immortality was thrusting itself ' before her vision. . . . | "I’m afraid the mlk is too cold to i feed the baby now," she said dully, and rose from beside Uncle Charley. “I must make a fire in the kitchen stove and heat it.” ’ltt’e later when Garland came to the kitchen door and lookvd :n a. her, he saw her washing a bowl at Tears were running down he/cheeks; she was weeping siTently. Tlie ranger closeQ the door, stepped Ito her side and drew her into a tight (embrace; and on his kindly, manly heart Monica Dale rested and. drew com. .1 after the heat and the burdens of ttie day—drew strength and faith to f:.ce whatever might confront her in the bleak days to come. CHAPTER 35 As the warmth pervaded its little chilled body the baby ceased its feeble protests, and silence settled over Bogus. Came Monica from the kitchen presently with milk and a spoon and took possesion of the infax!; which the sheriff, the convict, and the ranger loked on with surpassing interest, the girl fed the youngest member of that sorry company and found in the difficult ta,*k a swift reflex of pleasure from the sadness of Uncle Charley s passing. The sheriff, unable to refrain from parading his quadruple experience in paternity, was a trifle free with his advice on feeding and begged to he permitted to disfplay his ingenuity by manufacturing a rude substitute for a nipple. He even yvent so far as to take a long quill from Monica's new turkey-wihg dust-broom and beg for a knitting-needle wh|eiTwfth to re. move the pitch. His plan contemplated thrusting this quill through the neck of a bottle which formerly had contained horse liniment, leaving about an inch of tlw» .quill protruding. After filling the bottle with warm 'milk, the next step in the invention contemplated wrapping stripp of a clean handkerchief around the bottle neck and gradually enveloping tiie quill with several thicknesses of linen. “It won't have to be very big,” the remarkable fellow pleaded. “Just something he can grab holt of. and if we wet this here sucker with milk and put some sugar on it, the young

You Don’t Need Quinine for Colds can feel It doing the work—it s a IoU can Itei * ultH This 18 th© eHefnal Aspirin Combination for colds, original a. i Thousands have ' MtJoryeaie The prompt and pleasant way to end colds, COLO e TA ® LETS Aspirin Combination

'feller'll fly to It and no questions asked. By tilting the bottle at tlfr proper angle the milk flows out the quill into his mouth, whereas ho ilatters himself his success Is due entirely to his own efforts, uml he's that proud of himself it never occurs to . him he ain't swingin’ on the geny- ' wino article. "The way you're n-nourlshin' him, Miss Dale, he’s wastin’ two-thirds of it. You let milk dribble all over u baby an’ it gits sour 1 mean the baby not IJte milk! Now, with this here ugar-tlt o' mine "Ah an inventor,”Bob Mason suggested, “you’re a howling success nt ■hooting craps! If I were as free of spavins, ringbone, saddle-galls, and oplints as you are. I'd have that nanny goat in here, hog-tie her, flop her and let the l>oy help himself. Why monkeey with weak yvhen you can come so close to the original?" “I'll admit there’s merit to your uggestion, Bob," tlie sheriff replied dignity, “and if I'd had any idea there was a nanny-goat on the prem-i-’es I'd never have suggested my invention, which I still believe is practical for an emergency. 1 was sinder the impression I'd have to get a cow in her and bulMog her. so I dismissed the unworthy idea. Besides, I'm so done up tonight 1 doubt if I could bulldog a cat, let alone a goat.” "I imagine if Uncle Charley were sitting in on this conference he’d seei nd your motion about the goat, Mai on.” The ranger eagerly seized upon the opportunity to start a semihumorous discussion as a back-fire to the prevailing grim atmosphere. Bob Masort flashed him a grateful }■ lance. “I doubt that very much. Ranger. Uncle Charley was always I Tactical, but. ho had one weakness. No matter what proposition anybody put up to him he would never accept until he'd attached a rider of his own to it. Consequently he'd side with the sheriff because he'd be almost certain to suggest a small tincture of whfiskey in the milk.” “Well, of course I hadn't the pleasure of Uncle Charley’s acquaintance t ntil a half-hour ago, but it struck me he was quite an original thinker. If driven from the bottle and forced to fall back on the goat, he would still cling to his whisky rider and suggest getting the goat tipsy two hours before feeding the baby" The sheriff now took the hint. “Ever hear about the time Uncle Charley and Ashforth Dale had a quarrel and dissolved pardnership? Well, it’s worth listenin' to. Ash bad a placer claim he wanted to work the following spring, and Uncle

II R, ng The Belli W D «tr Daiiy Democrat /I /■kJI I / H av e Fou I HR' I I ou ” e newed 9 11/ I e / I / |W|g| I I D ° IT IVolv / fllMl II $3.00 m I I // , $3 - 5 o I SHb // ' n I I I Ue «mr Daily I) emorrM JKO. J y °° r '’ Omt *n« UCra ‘

i Charley was dead net on developing a quartz proposition he'd located. "They quarreled about it nil summer. Uncle Charley standing put with never n sign of surrender. About the first of December, however. Uncle , Charley led his Joker and iwept the hoard. “Reulizin' him ini’ Ash wae through prospectin’ until spring unyhow, he • dissolved pardnership wUh Ash an' took a. contract to carryuhe mall into ■ Dogwood Flats from Liistciyoii Cmiler , that winter. It waT all snow-shoe work. Uncle Charley would hike . twenty miles over the mountains lo Siskiyou Center one day and back to , Itogwood Flats the next. "Well, sir, the Forest Service was extendin' its telephone-line up to the , new station at Tantrum about that time* and Jed Martin, the ranger, was , expectin’ a consignment of glass insulators at Dogwood. So about the time they was due Je.l went over to Dogwood to get. them, figurin' they'd come by express fn.m Montague. "Instead, the electric company down to San Francisco shiped tlnyn via Siskiyou Center by parcel post—and the postmaster there hung 'em on ' 'Vnclcc Charley. Tliey tell me the old man was draped with glass insulators strung on wire until he looked like n chandelier in a high-class saloon. “Os couse he bawled and pin hod , and sunfished at th* prospect, and swore he was a human bein,’ not ~ pack-mule He was all for leavin’ them insulators in Siskiyou Center unt’l the snow melted and Jed Martin could come after them himself, but , the postmaster pointed out that the shipment was marked ‘Government property—important—rush!’ and reminded Uncle Charley that if he refused to deliver the United States mail, his jjontract whould bo voided • and his bondsnEoSHRDLU SHRDLU dred dollars. So Uncle Charley let i off upwards of a hundred and fifty i pounds of steam and allowed he’d never busted a contract in all his life ! so he’d be switched if he’d do it now and stick his friends. “Jed Martin “was settin' on the “ stoop o’ the general store when Uncle : Charley came staggerin’ in. four hours late, anti dumped a hundred pounds I of insulators at Jed’s feet. “There’s I your hell-fired insulators', says Uncle I Charley. ‘I dunno when they're goin’ > to ship the poles!’ Then he fainted. and on account of bein' unable tn ue his contract next day. Ash . Dale took it over. They spelled each t other the rest o'that winter and in the > spring when they settled their minin' ! argument by tossin' a coin, Monica’s c father won.” > “He always won." Monica, realiz-

ing she was expected to respond, Ipoked up from her tie k “After father was dead Uncle charlj found two coins in his [Hickel tine had two lie,-id 1 mi it mid the oilier t,wo tails! Father had them tm de e-.pe<s;ilß for the adjustment of arguments with Uncle Charlcfy, and when I'ncle Chatley found those coins ho v nt slrulglil over to tho cemetery and cussed my father” "That was Uncle ('harloy’- private prerogative, Monlcn,” said Hob Ma son. "Let anybody else try it and :i grizzly bear would have been n sociable companion comjMirod with Uncle Charley. Ever hear about tho time he tangled with u Modoc squaw alid got thrashed? Th' 1 <1 sgraee almost killed him. “Il appears the old man had a lilll • paek-mulo he was right fond of, and the mule strayed. Uncle Charley Vent hunting for him und down on i the Klamath River ho met old Chief Sassy Jack's Number Ono squaw fishing. Maggio,’ says Uncle Charley ‘have yon seen my mule''' Maggio kept right on fishing and Ignored him. 'Maggie, 1 asked you a civil question. Have, you seen my mule?” I “Maggio continued to fish. Squaws | are that way. Sometimes they’ll speak Ito a white man and sometimes they | won’t, protending they don't, understand Engl.sh. Maggie, however, was a Carlisle radiiate. and Uncle Char-

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. ley know this. So's Sassy Jack, for that mallei lie studied architecture . and after they sent him hack lo tho | tribe to build modern hotises nt the 1 1 ies> rvutloii ho reverted lo type and i built himself n mud hilt, emidoying the atchit.eetural design:! of his fore 1 fathers." cto io: < ci\ti M i-:im i Copyright I'c’G p» r B Kynw I by itll with King i ' .t 1 > ■ ■>.•!,-> I■ - Ilf Good Health Keeps a Womai Young Elkhart, lud. —“For some time I suffered from bearing pains and backache, my nerves were in such

condition that the least thing would completely n ps e t them. 1 would go all to pieces. I had black rings around my eyea and wtrn barely able to drag my'self around to do my little housework. I took Dr. Pierce’s Favorite

Tty- 3

Prescription 'and it relieved me of i ■ all inward trouble, restored my nerves and made me well and strong. I have never suffered with any of the above conditions since.'* —Mrs. C. F. Unger, 164 E. Marion St. All dealers. Liquid or tablets.

THREE