The Syracuse Journal, Volume 22, Number 2, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 9 May 1929 — Page 7

The Settling of the Sage ‘By HAL G. EVARTS WNC Sppylc, , CopyH,ht b, HU O. Evart.

CHAPTER Xl—Continued —22— The girl had a sickening realisation that the work of a year would be blotted out in a space of seconds under those churning hoofs. It seemed that she must die of sheer grief as she witnessed the complete devastation of the fields she had watched day by day with such loving care. The stampede swept the full length of the meadow and held on for the house. The foremost cows struck the corrals and they went down with a splintering crash under the pressure from behind. She looked out on a sea of tossing horns and heaving backs as the herd rushed through, the heavy log buildings shaking from the mass of animals jammed against them and squeezing past. The force of the run was spent on the steep slope back of the house and the herd split into detachments and moved off through the hills. The west side of the house was windowless, a blank wall built against the standing winds. Waddles was busily engaged in knocking out a patch ■of chinking and endeavoring to work a loophole between the logs. Harris was similarly engaged. He pointed down the valley to the Sfnith and she turned mechanically and crossed to that window. A few riders showed on the ridges on either flank of the valley. “They were cached up there to pick us off if we rode down to try and turn rhe run," he said. She nodded without apparent interest. What might transpire now seemed a matter to be viewed with Indifference. “It’s time for me to go,” Harris said. ■“I’ll hold the bunk house. Good luck. Billie—we’ll hold ’em off.” He turned to Waddles who still worked to make a loophole through the blank wall. “If it gets too hot put her outside and tell her to give herself up. Even Lang would know that the whole •country would be hunting them tomorrow if they touched her. They won’t if they can help it. But this is their last hope—to trust in one final raid. They’ll go through with it. Make ber go outside if it comes to that.” He opened the door and leaped across the twenty yards of open space which eparated the main building ■from the bunk house, barred the door and looked from the south window. The riders along the valley rims had descended to the bottoms. Smoke was already rising from one homestead cabin and they were riding toward the rest. Two men had dismounted by the head gate. « Harris cursed himself for not having anticipated this very thing. The whole plan was clear to him. Slade would hav' known that when the cowhands came in from the round-up there would follow the inevitable night at Brill’s. Morrow bad mapped out the raid long in advance, engaging Lang to gather the cows throughout the ■first night the round-up crew was in from the range and hold them a few miles from the ranch. Lang could not know that Slade was locked up and that Morrow was dead so the raid had gone through as planned. Smoke was rising from two more cabins in the flats and Harris reproached himself for another oversight in a.lowing the wagons to pull out ''efore the others arrived. The crop would have been ruined in any event bnt with the hands at home they could havo prevented the destruction of the cabins. H > transferred his attention to the long line of 'ng buildings a hundred yards to the east The row afforded perfect cover for any who chose that route of approach. They could walk up to them in absmute safety, screened both from himself and those in the main house. As he watched the doors and windows for sign of movement within a voice hailed them from the shop. ou might as well coma out,” It ■called “We’re going to fire the plant.” Harris stretched prone on the floor and rested the muzzle of his .isle on a crack between the logs. It was hard shooting. • Ht was forced to shift the butt end of the gun. moving with it himself to line the sights instead of twinging the free end of the barrel. He trained it on a crack some two feet from the door of the shop. Behind the aperture the light of a win •dow on the far side showed faintly. ••Come out I” the voice ordered. “Or we’ll cook you Inside. We’ve no time to lose. Rush it!” The light disappeared from the •crack nd Harris pressed the trigger. With the roar of his gun a shape pitched do n across the door of the shop Some unseen hands cauglft the man by tbe feet and as he was dragg <’ back from sight Harris saw the red handkerchief which had served as t» mask. From all along the row of buildings a tire was opened on the bunk house. Harris threw himself flat against the lower log which barely shielded him. Shreds of ’dobe chinking littered tne room The balls which found an entrance splintered through the bunks and buried themselves in the logs of the far wi II One marksman worked on the lower crack. Puffs of 'dobe pul verized uefore Harris’ eyes as the sys tenia He fire crept toward him down trie crack in six-inch steps. The shooting suddenly ceased. Billie Warren, dazedly indifferent as to •what should happen to the Three Bar since the wreck of the lower field, had roused to action the Instant she saw the spurts of chinking fly from the cracks of the bunk house before the fusillad sent after Harris. She threw ?pen the door and stepped out. holding up* >ne hand. “Don’t ''III him!” she commanded. “It yon fire another shot at him I’ll Slit nr very dollar I own to hang »vnn cvm that ever rode a foot with Lu’ri ’ t>. vo’j. beat that. Lang?”

“Langs in Idaho.” a voice growled surlily from the shop. “None of us ever rod- with Lang. We’re from every band on the range—and we’re going to burn you squatters out.” “Draw otf and let us ride away," she said. “You can have the Three Bar.” “All but Harris.” the voice called back. “He stays!” Harris knew that the men would not be deterred in their purpose—would sacrifice her along with the rest if necessary to accomplish their end. “Get back. Billie,” he called from the bunk house. “You can’t do us any good out there. Take the little cabin and sit tight. We’ll beat them off.” She walked to the little cabin that stood isolated and alone, the first building ever erected on the Three Bar and which had sheltered the Harrises before her father had taken over the brand. From her point of vantage she saw two masked men rise from the brush \T Ji Waddles Pumped a "!ifle and Covered Harris’ Retreat as Best He Could. I and run swiftly down toward the main house, each carrying a can. She divined their purpose instantly. “Watch the west side!” she called. “The west side—quick.” The muffled crash of a rifle rolled steadily from the house as Waddles fired at the chinking in an effort to reach the two men outside. But they had accomplished their purpose and retreated; The row of buildings was a seething mass of flames rolling up into the black smoke. Flames hissed and licked up the blank wall of the main house, trave ng along the logs on which the two masked raiders had thrown their cans of oil. The men outside had only to wait until the occupants were roasted out. She knew Waddles would com l out when it grew too hot. The raiders might let him go. It was Harris they waited for. The girl ran across and pounded on the bunk-house door. “Run for it." she bagged. “Make a run for the brush! I’fl keep between you and them. They won’t shoot me. You can get to the brush. There’s a chance that way.” “All right, old girl,” Harris said. “In a minute now. But you go back, Billie. Get back to the little house. As soon as it gets hot I’ll run for it. I’ve got ten minutes yet before I’m roasted out. I’ll start as soon as you're inside the house.” “No. Start now!” she implored. “Run, Cal. Run while you’ve got a chance.” She leaned upon the door and beat on it with her fists. “All right. Billie.” he said. “I’ll go. You stay right where you are as if you’re talking to me.” She heard him cross the floor. He dropped from the window on the far side from the men. When he came in sight of them he was running in long leaps for the brush, zigzagging in his flight. Half a dozen rifles spurted from two hundred yards up the slope, the balls passing him with nasty snaps. He reached the edge of the

Bookplates That Are Prized by Collectors

A bookplate is a typographical or pictorial label, used to denote the ownership of a book. Bookplates are considered to have had their origin in Germany, though an unsupported claim has been made that they were used in Japan in the Tenth century, and certain small clay tablets are believed to have performed in Babylonia and Assyria an office similar to that of the bookplate of today. The earliest printed bookplate we know today was used abcut 1480. From Germany the use of the fiookplate spread to France und finally to au continental countries. The bookplate firs: in America were of English mak“. brought over by the wealthy Colonists. They possess great Interest as memorials of the old families: but the plates Complimentary A man who fancied himself as a motor engineer bought a second-hand car, and had just completed one or two urgent repairs. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. “There!” he exclaimed to a friend, “you’d never think she was secondhand now. would you?” His friend cast a critical glance over the car before replying. “N-no.” he agreed; “it’s, more like something yon'd made yourself.”

THE SYRACUSE JOURNAL, SYRACUSE, INDIANA

sage and plunged headlong between two rocks. Waddles pumped a rifle and covered j Harris’ flight as best he could, drilling j the center of every sage that shook or ; quiverr’ back of the house. Two men turned their attention to the one who handicapped their chances of locating the crawling man and poured their fire through the window. He dropped to the floor and peered from a crack. The firing had sudden | ly ceased. He saw a hat moving up a coulee, a mere flash here and there above the sage as the owner of It ran. The smoke hurt his eyes and the heat seemed to crack his skin. He crossed over to ee If Harris was down; that would account for the sud den cessation of shooting from the hills back of the house. The raiders in the lower field were riding jwiftly for the far side of the valley. One man knelt near the head gate, then mounted and jumped his horse off after the rest. Waddles put the whole force of his lungs behind one mighty cheer. Far down along the rim of the val ley, ouf'ned against the sky. f-'ur mules were running as so many startled deer under the bite of the lash and six men swayed and clung to the wagon that lurched behind Three men unloaded from the wagon as it came opposite the cluster of men riding far out across the flats. They opened a long-range fire at a thousand yards while the others stayed with the wagon as it rocked on toward the burning ranch. Billie was running to the brush at the spot where Harris had disappeared. He rose to meet her. “('al. you’re not hurt?'’ she asked. “Not a scratch.” be said. “Thanks to you.” In her relief she grasped his arm and gave it a fierce little squeeze. “Then It’s all right.” she said. Waddles burst from the door of the burning house, his arms piled high with salvage. “We’ll save what we can,” Harris said and started for the house. As he ran the valley rocked with a con cussion which nearly threw him flat and a column of fragments and trash rose a hundred feet above the spot where the head gate had been but a second past. A dozen running horses flipped over the edge of the hill and plunged down toward the ranch. The men were back from Brill’s. Harris held up his hand to halt the riders as they would have kept on past the house. He knew that the raiders stationed behind the ranch had long since reached their horses and were lost in the choppy Lilis. He waved all nands toward the buildings and they swarmed inside, carrying out load after load of such articles as could he moved and piling them out of reach of the flames. The gir’ sat apart and watched them work. Her lethargy had returned. It seemed a small matter to rescue these trinkets when the Three Bar was a total wr<-ck. Harris caught two of the saddled horses that had carried the men from Brill’s and crossed over to where the girl sat. < down to the field.” he said. “And see what’s got to be done. 1 expect a week’s work will repair that part of it all right.” She ga' ed at him in amazement He spoke of repairing the damage while the Three Bai burned before his eyes. But she rose and mounted the horse and they rode off down what had once been the lane, the fence flattened by the rushing horde of cat tie that had swept through. The homestead cabins smoked but stil. stood intact “Look!” he urged cheerfully “’those logs were too green to burn We won’t even have to rebuild They’ll look a little charred round the edges maybe, but otherwise as good as new We’re not bad hurt. They can’t hurt our land. I’d rather have this flat right now—the way it stands—than three thousand head of cow# on the range and no land at all. We can re build the place this winter while work Is slack. Build better than before.” ! His enthusiasm failed to touch her I For her the Three Bar was wrecked the old borne gone, and her gaze kept straying back to the eddying black . smoke-cloud at the foot of the hills. f I'o BE CONTINUED.)

engraved by the hands of our first American engravers. Nathaniel Hurd and Paul Revere of Boston. Amos Doolittle of Connecticut and Alexander Anderson, easily surpass them in value. The earliest date on an Amer lean bookplate by an American engraver is 1749. on the Thomas Dering plate engraved by Hurd. A Mighty Mite Red spiders, which actually are not spiders at all, but mites—are a serious pest in certain cotton fields of the South, and. the Department of Agriculture points out in a recent bulletin, probably damage the cotton crop in excess of $2,000,000 in years of severe infestation. The lnsec»s are minute and live on the under sides of the leaves, feeding from the jtices tn the leaf tissues, rather than on the surface. They multiply rapidly, and in warm weather a new generation appears in about 12 days. As many as 17 generations a year have been ob served. Racing Doge The name “whippet” is indicative of the origin of the dogs. “Wappe, was the aid English name for “cur* and “whapping” meant the “yelping of a dog.”

SIMPLY TAILORED ENSEMBLES; FOR WEAR ON TENNIS COURT /HI Jf/ / T IF / /3 w y-R 1 r 4 JI-’ X. WK Hi c I? w >3K * I A Hl**' x * ■M — _ “SB v-—-

CAPRICIOUS fashion has undergone a change of mind in regard to the proper date for the debut of the all-silk suit or costume. Time was when the silk suit was supposed to stay out of the picture until after spring was well on its way toward summer. The 1929 style calendar has changed all that. Almost with the coming of the “first robin” silk suits made their appearance this season. Not only has the call of the mode for silk suits been sounded earlier than usual, but in matter of chic and charm this season’s silk coat ensembles are establishing a new record. While this is so in regard to the gay print jacket costumes which are so charmingly enlivening the spring

landscape, it is especially true in matter of handsome classics styled of the heavier rich monotone silks which yield so smartly to tailored treatment For these swanky silk tailleurs. which are particularly stunning in black or navy, Such weaves are selected as bengaline, moire, faille, brocade. and superior-grade crepes. One not only gets a thrill out of the elegance and versatility of the materials employed for the making of this season’s silk suits and ensembles, but their cunning styling evokes a feeling of genuine admiration. Coats for these costumes are a matter of particular interest with the designer. Many of them are styled with most beguiling capelets, unique scarf necklines and endless decorative bows which tie here and there with captivating nonchalance. Then again the silhouette is often of the simplest, like the model in the picture. This patrician three-piece is of handsome brocaded faille silk and it features one of the modish neatly tailored three-quarter coats. The crepe-satin blouse is made with a jabot, which adds to the general attractiveness of the costume. Competing with the coat, skirt and blouse type such as is illustrated is the ensemble which tops a one-piece frock of the silk with a coat of the same. The new color-touched black or navy silk costumes of this genre are exceptionally smart. For example, a black one-piece crepe frock is enhanced with collar, cuffs and most likely a decorative jabot of either pale

Hr wk x i ii w II wf /J--Charming Tennis Costume. /; )? V ' Ki ir si

blue, chartreuse or orange georgette or organdie which is very often scalloped. While the collar is attached to the dress it is so designed as to adjust over the collarless coat. Then again the matching silk coat ana frock may be in monotone, with a separate scarf in some one of the very vivid new spring colors, the hat repeating the gay color. Navy with chartreuse accessories, likewise black with white are conspicuous in the new silken modes. probably one of the most important as well as one of the most becoming fashions of latter seasons is the sleeveless dress. It may be called a tennis frock and serve only as such, although this is not always the case this season, for sleevelessness has of late become a

Scarf Hat Agnes sends a little brown felt spring hat, with narrow brim, that has its crown swathed in a gorgeous brown and orange scarf which knots in the hack and has Jong ends to wrap around the neck. Antibes Tan The newest hosiery shade is Antibes tan. which is the correct tone to wear with ail the off-whites. It also is good for evening with colorful shoes matching milady's gown.

Us mH® I*, ft • •f IF 1 ; M ' .mgmnniEE. Handsome Silk Ensemble.

featured theme throughout the mode. The dress in the picture is one ot those adaptable types which while it is practical and pretty for tennis wear is just as charming and proper for almost any informal daytime occasion. The attractiveness of this dress is largely due to the charm of the blue and white checked rayon fabric of which it is made. This lovely weave is soft and lusterful and. best of all, it tubs beautifully—looks just like new after each laundering. Any woman who has made washable fabrics a study knows the joy and satisfaction materials give, which actually seem to look prettier every time they are laundered. Well, the rayon check used for the making of the gown pictured is just like that. Soap and water and ironing seem to add new luster to its prettiness. Note that the skirt is box-plaited. The plaits are stitched at the top to hold them in place—a happy departure from the shallow side plaits that are so difficult to keep in order. The monogram near the hemline of the blouse top of this one-piece dress is done in darker blue, it is really surprising what a handsome monogram can do in the way of imparting a distinguishing touch to a simple frock. The number of variations in the sleeveless theme is endless this season. There is the one-piece frock without sleeves, the sleeveless blouse with plaited skirt, also the sleeveless dress topped with a jacket. In some instances it is the dress which boasts sleeves, while the coat or

jacket is minus them. The latest entrant into the sans-sleeve class is the sleeveless cape-coat or jacket, which appears either as a separate wrap or as a component of the ensemble. If you have not taken note before of the new sleeveless silhouette which substitutes a cape for sleeves, watch for it, for it is a styling of interesting development among the newer modes. An outstanding characteristic of washable ensembles is their dressy, one might almost say formal, appearance. Many of the new rayon weaves are truly marvelous in this respect, in that while they launder they do not give the impression of belonging to the washable materials. JULIA BOTTOMLEY. <©. 1929. Western Newspaper Union.)

Saddle Sleeve* A new sleeve for afternoon frocks is the saddle sleeve that joins the blouse In raglan style, and fits more dr less closely until the elbow and then flares to width and originality to the wrist. Narrow Braid Narrow silk braid, in blending tawny and red shades work out a pattern of leaves around the circular skirt and across the bodice and sleeves of a light brown crepey wool frock.

I l I 'M-l-I-t-l-l-I-l-I-I-I-I-l I I I 1 H-W HENRY’S K HOMECOMING ” | PERFECT | ■H-l-H-H-I I l l I I I 1 I I I l- H-M-H-4 <© by D. J. Walsh.) THE Ladies’ Aid society of the Middleton Methodist church vas in a high state of excitement. They had appointed themselves the committee to arrange for the dinner an the occasion of Henry Brewster’s visit to his home town on Thursday—Henry Brewster, president of the M., L. & M. railroad, the Henry Brewster they had known as a boy, born and brought up in Middleton. but who had left there twenty-five years ago to seek his fortune. The townspeople of Middleton still claimed him for their own and had followed his brilliant career faithfully. They had named the park down by the depot Brewster park, for had not Henry Brewster’s railroad brought Middleton out of the shadows? And now he was coming pome—just for a few hours, it is true, but nevertheless. Middleton was preparing to receive her illustrious son! The good ladies of the “Aid” were assembled in the Sunday school room. “Os course —soup and chicken.” said Mrs. Ezra Miller, president of the “Aid.” and ten voices echoed, “soup and chicken.” “William says they have new fancy olives down at the store ana we can send to Davishurg for hearts of celery, also salted almonds. I’ll bring over my currant jelly and sweet cucumber pickles.” volunteered Mrs. Annie Smithers, “and I’ll make the salad dressing for the cabbage salad.” “Mashed potatoes, gravy . . . and maybe' some scalloped potatoes . . . more tasty, don’t yotr think? ’n’ squash, hot biscuit, some clovet honey, maybe. I remember Henry was fond of it as a boy ...” “Mince pie *n’ pumpkin pie with whipped cream and coffee . . .” Libhie Adams, Middleton’s “old maid.” bent her head over her sewing. Libhie was one of the “Aid’s” most active members, but today she had remained silent. “Seems you should take a little interest in Henry’s coming,” spoke up Mrs. Adams. “You used to be such good friends, sweethearts almost, raised together as you were. Libhie.” “You haven’t left me much o say.” replied Lihbie dryly. “Dinner all planned, banners and town hall—parade—speeches—l haven’t had much to say in planning for Henry.” “Well, you might say the plans are satisfactory. It’s no small matter, an affair like this, especially for a big man like Henry.” “That’s just it. If 1 had anything to say about it. I would make it a home affair. A good dinner right clowu in this dining room of the church he attended as a boy, forget all the fuss and feathers. I’m in favor of letting Henry forget he is a rich man. the president of the railroad. a personage. I'd do away with the speeches and banners and fussing: just remind him he is home again among old friends, and forget the chicken and hearts of celery and fancy olives.” “What! Not have chicken?” “Oh. have it your own way, folks, but 1 knew Henry Brewster better than all the rest of, you. We both lived with my Aunt Minnie tor eleven years after his folks died. Don’t change your plans. He will appreciate it —” “But not have —chicken.” repeated Mrs. Miller incredulously. “Henry probably eats chicken every day of his life. Chicken isn’t a treat for city folks. But as 1 said, just go on . . .” “But what could we have —if not chicken ?” Lihbie continued to sew, and there was silence for a moment. “’Pears like maybe Libbie is right.” spoke up timid little Mrs. Potter. “I presume he does have chicken at all those b inquets and such. But 1 can remember when he used to come here to the church socials —how he would eat! ’Pears like Libbie may be right.” The “Aid” turned to Libbie expectantly. “Well, suppose you tell us what you have in mind, Libbie.” said Mrs. Adams briskly ano a trifle sourly Mrs. Adams was not accustomed to having her plans questioned. “We haven’t much time. Here it is Monday and Henry coming Thursday.” Libbie Adams folded her sewing and placed it carefully in her bag. She placed her thimble in its case and wound up a spool of thread. Then she spoke: “I didn’t mean to have you change your plans, folks, but you asked me ’n’ I told you. Now, if you will let me take over the dinner for Henry. I’ll do it. I’ll get everything ready, do the buying and all that and you can settle afterward, but Henry’s dinner—won’t be —expensive. I am going to give him what he used to say was ‘the best meal under the sun and moon.’ I can just hear him say®it.”

Good Health Maxims Found in Gypsy Lore

A codification of the rules of health, so modern in its spirit that it would appear to have been prepared by pres-ent-day scientists, has been found tn gypsy lore more than 2.500 years old. The American Magazine, publishing these gypsy health rules for the first time in English, recommends them to the consideration of all who seek physical normalcy. The gypsy nealth doctrine is based on the fundamental theory that there is no more dangerous sickness than sadness. As a matter of fact, the gypsy language has no word for “sick.” Instead of saying, “He is sick unto death.” the gypsy says. “He is sad unto death.” In the gypsy code, happiness means health. A modern scientist, commenting on this ancient health rule, says: “It is only recently that science has discovered that the gastric juices are influenced by the mental condition of the individual, and that food wetted with tears Is like poison to the body; that the quality of the food is not half so important as the mental con-

As they were about to disband, Libbie added: “You folks come down here about eleven and see that the table is all right and fix the flowers ano all that. I am glad it is fall so we can have asters. Henry u.ed to be so fond of asters and had a bed of them right alongside of the path to the barn.” One by one the ladies of the “Aid” came down the stairs ”f the church that Thursday morning. sniffed, stopped, sniffed again, advanced another step, stopped and stood still! And then in a chorus, a despairing chorus, they spoke jus' two words: “Sauer kraut!” Libbie Adams was bending over the stove, her face flushed prettily with the heat. Six juicy elderberry pies, steaming hot. were lined tip on the table. She laughed at the dismayed faces before her. Then she bent over and opened the oven door. Two great baking pails, the largest to be found in Middleton, held Henry Brewster’s dinper. Sauerkraut and spareribs! “I’m mixing up the dumplings now,” she informed them. “The biscuits are in the oven and the coffee is ready. Will you put the cream on the table—and the flowers? It is train time now and the men have gone to meet Henry. Well! What’s the matter. You look scared to death!’’ The president of the M., L. & M. railroad laughed like a boy as he came down the stairs into the basement dining room of the church. “By George! It takes me back to the days when I was a kid. Never ate such good things in my life as we had down here at those church suppers” He stopped short. “What—do—l—smell? Not sauerkraut! Don’t tell me—sauerkraut —l can never stand the disappointment if it happens —to —he chicken ! Not sauerkraut — honest? By George!” He sat at the head of tne table surrounded by his old friends. His face was radiant. The minister asked grace and out in the hot kitchen Libbie Adams bent her head. h,er hands pressed tight to her breast. Then she and Mrs. Miller picked up the great steaming platters and entered the dining room. Henry Brewster looked up. pushed back his chair, .and rose to his feet. He took the platter from I.ihbie’s hands, deposited it carefully on the table, and then turned and held both her hands in his. “Libhie. my old friend—my chum . . . you make this homecoming perfect ! I have been thinking about you all these years . . . have wanted io; come back ... and now I am—home. Those years have been kind to youg Lihbie . . .. and we will talk about: the ones to come after we have had! dinner . . . and there is room right; here by me—for you.” An hour later he pushed back his pie plate and leaned back contentedly in his chair. “The homecoming—perfect! Home town . . . home folks . . . best meal under the sun and moon . . . sauer-i kraut and elderberry pie . . . and; Libbie Adams right here beside me. again . . .” Plea for Rights of Child The “child’s bill of rights” is the aim of the American Child Health association. “The ideal to which we> should strive is that there shall be no child in America that has not , been born under proper conditions; that does not live in hygienic surroundings; that ever suffers undernourishment: that does not have prompt and, efficient medical attention and inspec-’ tion; that does not receive primary Instructions in the elements of hygiene and good health; that has not the complete birthright of a sound mind in a sound body: that has not the encouragement to express in fullest measure; the spirit within, which is the final endowment of every human being.” Mendelssohn’s Greatness Mendelssohn advanced and widened the field of philosophy and criticism! by his original and productive work.; He was a bright star in the realm of, philosophy, and many great qien that rose later used him. not only as a source of knowledge, but also as a’i source of inspiration. He was inspired! with a holy and pure zeal for deeper knowledge and for truth. As a German philosopher, he was ( the first to write in a clear style and in an excellent language many important philosophic problems. He formed the basis of philosophic and esthetic, criticism in Germany.—Boston Her-, aid. “King’s English” It is the king’s English just as It' is the king’s army, the king’s navy and the king’s country. Everything in the tight little isle is subject to him, in theory at least. The expression is proverbial. It Is sometimes credited to Shakespeare because of his use of it in the first act of “’fhe Merry Wives of Windsor,” but it antedates him. Time’s Golden Glow The times and customs we beef about today we’ll be calling “the good old days” tomorrow.—Fort Wayne News-Sentinel.

dttion of the eater. The gypsy, it appears, has known this for thousands of years.” Investigators for the magazine, studying the gypsy application of these health rules, report: “It is a wellknown fact that gypsies eat foods that would kill any white man, yet when a gypsy is not hungry he cannot be made to eat even a morsel. The gypsy wonders that we can eat when we are not hungry, or drink when we are not thirsty; he wonders that we can remain alive after doing so.” One of the gypsy health rules says: “The poison is not in the food; It is in the mouth of the eater." As He Understood It A Harvard student who puts in his odd hours, profitably, waiting on table, wrote to his family saying that the job was great fun. “One English student wanted cocoa for breakfast He asked for it in his native accent ‘cow-cow.’ Th® wa * ter brought him two milks.”—Boston Transcript,