Walkerton Independent, Volume 62, Number 24, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 5 November 1936 — Page 2

Synthetic Gentleman By Channing Pollock CopyHrM. Channing Pollock WNTT Service.

CHAPTER Xl—Continued —l9— He didn’t want to walk all day, and he did want to see what the other papers had to say of last night’s events In the Cocoanut Bar. At Fifth avenue, therefore, he turned into the public library. The reports were much alike—- " Night club proprietor killed resisting arrest” and “The indictment against Jay Rogers, now held for the Kelly murder, probably will be dismissed today.” Barry sat, almost alone, in the “newspaper room,” turning the case over In his mind. Then he asked for old files of one of the tabloids. He was nearly an hour finding an account of the Winslow wedding. Without any definite knowledge of the date, it was a bit like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Barry’s curiosity was rewarded, at last, when he stumbled upon a pictorial front page headed. "Lawyer Weds Convict's "Widow.” The ceremony had taken place at St Stephen’s. There were pictures of the church and of the convict —"George Selby (inset) and Love Nest Where He Took His Bride.” The smudgy little “inset” might have been a portrait of Nicholas Murray Butler or Jack Dempsey, and the house might have been any house, anywhere. There was an obviously faked photograph of a holdup, and an obviously genuine one of "Mr. and Mrs. Winslow Leaving St Stephen’s." “Gosh,” Barry reflected: "no wonder Mrs. Winslow had a nervous breakdown!” The story, on the second page, was In the best tabloid tradition. “Five years ago,” it began, “Peter Winslow, obscure young attorney, secured the acquittal of George Selby, charged ■with participating in the robbery of a candy store in the Bronx. Yesterday, Peter Winslow, rich and famous criminal lawyer, and George Selby's widow ■were the principal figures in what was to have been a secret ceremony at St Stephen's.” The present Mrs. Winslow had run away with George Selby while he was a cadet in a military school. They had come to New York, rented the “love nest.” and been “blissfully happy” until Selby ran out of money, and was compelled to take bis wife to a boarding house. He had been arrested there, for the candy store robbery. In April, 1921. Peter Winslow had got him off, but the following June, he was caught in another robbery in Philadelphia, and sentenced to a long term in the State Penitentiary. With two other convicts, “Lefty” Miller and “Mugs” Scanlan, he had escaped In October, 1923. Penniless, the men “staged a hold-up that same night in Fairmount Park. The victim called for help, and Selby killed him. Scanlan was shot dead by a police officer, and Selby, attempting to get away, jumped into the river, and •was drowned. His body was found two weeks later, entangled In an anchor chain.” Winslow had given Mrs. Selby work in his office, and “three years after Selby’s death, love culminated in the ceremony at St. Stephen’s.” • That explained a good deal, Barry thought, remembering the soft, round, pink little woman with worried eyes. It explained Peter’s protective attitude. It might explain his quick Interest tn the Rogers case, in which, Barry had told Winslow. Peggy had been “putting up such a game fight to make a man of her husband.” That sort of thing always gets me," Peter had observed. “A woman tied up to some man who’s not worthy of her, and In love with him.” Peter’s “Julie” had been in love with her first husband, then. And he with her, evidently, to judge by what the tabloids said of their happiness. “Must have been something good in that chap,” Barry reasoned. “Probably realized what his wife was trying to do for him. We’re a curious mixture.” He was still brooding over curious mixtures, and other things, when a clock struck somewhere, and reminded him that, by now, there might be a message as to young Ridder’s release awaiting him at his hotel. ’ There wasn’t All Thursday afternoon Barry sat In his room and, at five o’clock, he called Peter's secretary. “Nothing definite yet,” she Informed him. “The District Attorney’s making the motion all right, but It’ll be tomorrow now before anything comes of it.” Against his better judgment, then, P.arry phoned Harwood. “Don’t worry.” the city editor said. “Have you seen tonight’s Globe? Whole first page one lond yell for this kid’s release. They’ll be so glad to get him off their hands —” In spite of his friendliness, Barry noticed that Ernie didn’t say, “Come on down; we’ve something else for you.” Nor even, “Os course, we’ll expect you to cover Rogers getting out of jail.” Why should he? “The big beat” was Harwood’s “beat," not Barry’s and, anyway, the old man would be at his desk the day after tomorrow. Harwood did say that, nt last. “You’d better see him. I’ll phone you when. Probably not before Monday. He il be pretty busy for a day or two. Os course, yon'll be around for your salary on Saturday. Might look me up then." He was still on the pay roll, at least. That was important, what with overdrafts and hotel bills, and such things. Sober reflection, backed by experience, had persuaded Barry that he couldn’t get much on his wardrobe. The studs and cuff-links were rather cheap stuff. He had sold an overcoat once—in this very town —for three dollars. Saturday's money would just square the bank account. As for the hotel bill—“ Well, I’ll give them my clothes.” Barry decided, “and I’ll have something left In my jeans when I move nut of here." He phoned Peggy again, and then dined frugally and went back to his room. Step by step, he went its details, seeing everything In ti n a

light cast by the events of the past few hours. At midnight for the fifth or । sixth time, he re-read the story In the Globe. “Well, that's that,” he said , aloud, tossing the paper Into the wastebasket and winding his silver wrist- ’ watch. "Morano’s dead, young Rldder’ll be free tomorrow, old Ridder’ll be home , Saturday, and that's that. Wonder ' where I’ll be a week from now.” , It didn't matter much. “Nothing matters much,” he told himself again. , dwelling on Pat’s phrase, “Not without , Pat, It doesn't. She’s a grand girl. Out , of my class, though. A week from now, she’P be playing tennis and going over ! to dinner at the Ridders. Wonder If Peg'll be there. Wonder what’s going to happen to those two young people?” In Friday morning’s paper, under ! “Personal Intelligence,” he found a mention of the Winslows. “Mr. and Mrs. Peter Winslow are sailing on the Aquitania next Wednesday," the item read, “for an extended tour of the Continent” That was that, too. Barry's drama was ending with all its principal characters disposed of, as wellmade drama should end. Winslow's secretary called him Just before noon. “Mr. Winslow wants me to tell you that Rogers will be free in an hour* or two.” “How’s Mrs. Winsiow?” “Much better. Mr. Winslow’s still with her, though.” “And the Hambidges?” “No; they went back to Southampton last night” Once more, that was that Barry thought getting his hat and making tracks for the subway. He reached the Tombs well In advance of official orders for the release of “Jay Rogers.” “Maybe I Was,” Ridder Admitted. It was nearly five o’clock. Indeed, when “Jay Rogers” appeared, looking very white and haggard, and the last train had left for Southampton. “You can talk to Peggy on the phone,” Barry told him, “and then you’d better have dinner with me, and a good night's rest at my hotel. The Bremen gets in very early, and you'll want to be on the dock.” Jack looked at him quizzically. "Will L” “Won’t you?” “I suppose so. I’d like to see my mother." “I’d like to see ber myself,” Barry said. “She's been swell to you, all right” “Yes.” At dinner, Jack declared, “I’ll take that job on the paper now, if my father’ll give it to me.” “Why not?” "You started me thinking. I can see the old man's viewpoint. He’s got to be decent to Peggy, though. It’s both of us, or neither. . . . What’s going to happen to you?” “Search me!” “Look here,” Jack blurted. T’m Ridder now. Who needs to know that I was ever Jay Rogers? I’ve been at Southampton all the time, writing letters to my mother, and everything. You’ve been Barry Gilbert, working on the Globe, and likely to go on working there. What’s the matter with that?” “Willetts is the matter with it," Barry answered —“Willetts, and Evans, and Winslow, and all the camera-click-ers on the newspapers. There’ve been several pictures of you already. I can’t understand why you weren’t identified long ago.” “Maybe I was,” Ridder admitted. “Your old college chums don’t exactly run after you while you’re in jail. They don’t get to be college chums until you’re in Who’s Who.” “Anyway,” Barry continued, “your scheme’s out I want to come clean. Don’t ask me why. I was going to run away a week ago, and I couldn’t make it ‘Gentlemen don’t do that,’ I said. I’ve got a new picture of myself as a gentleman.” “That’s what does the trick, 1 guess,” Jack speculated. “Most of us spend our lives trying to live up to the por traits of ourselves that hang over our mental mantel-pieces. Yours was of a reckless, devil-may-care young vagabond. Then you moved into a house, and company, where that picture didn’t fit You hung up a new one, and you’ve got to live up to that now. It was the same way with me. The picture of myself I liked was of an irresponsible, slightly dissipated young genius. The family portraits didn't appeal to me. Yours did —your new picture of yourself, I mean. I'm going to try to be like that the rest of my life.” They were lingering over cigars and coffee now. “What is a gentleman?” Barry asked. Jack smiled. j “The fellow who gets the right por- ■ trait.” । “I suppose so," Barry said. “Family ; and clothes didn’t make you one—not [ when you were getting drunk and forg-

ing checks. I wasn’t one when I took another man's name, and money, and made up to a girl who thought I was somebody else. . . . Pictures over man-tel-pieces. That’s another word for tradition, I guess. The tradition that makes men defend women, and go down on sinking ships, and all that sort of thing. When that stops being our picture of ourselves, ‘God help all of us,’ I told Pat once . . . Come on; let’s go to a movie I” CHAPTER XII The next afternoon—around three o’clock—Harwood phoned. "The old man wants to see you. Here at his office. I’d come quick if I were you." So Jack had told him. Or Evans. “I’d be glad If you’d tell Willetts, and the rest,” Barry had said to the chauffeur. “It’ll save me introducing the subject.” It would, too. He had dreaded his first few moments with Ridder —beginning his story with a pair of cold, calm eyes boring into him. They would be cold eyes; he felt sure of that And they were. "The big chief” sat at his big desk in a big, richly-furnished office with a big door and a little one. The big double door opened Into the reception room. Barry entered through that, and found himself facing Ridder and the smaller single door behind him. Ridder was reading a radiogram, and he went on reading. A tall, thin man, with New England written all over him. A youngish man for his age, which might have been fifty. He wore gold-rimmed spectacles. His long, thin, absolutely straight mouth was higher at the right end, and his right eye was longer and narrower than his left He had a sharp chin, and a thin nose, and a broad forehead, with thin, graying, sandyish hair. The kind of man who could say "Good morning” as though that ended the discussion. “All right," Barry repeated to himself. “I’ll take my medicine. It’ll soon be over, anyway. He Isn't going to give a damn what I did for his son. If I can say anything to make it easier for those two youngsters and Jacky— Wonder what's back of that little door.” । He was still wondering when the big chief looked up. “You’re Gilbert?” “Yes. sir." < "Alias Ridder, eh?” “Yes, sir." They were cold eyes. Very cold. Mostly to end the silence, Barry said, “I suppose your son told you.” "Nobody told me. I’ve known ail about you for two months.” "You've known—” “I heard my wife’s talk with my son the day before we sailed. Through the । door to my bedroom. I heard her in- | vlte him to Southampton. Next morning, I arranged with Willetts to give I me a full report of his doings there.” 1 “And—?” < Barry was thinking In monosyllables. ] “And, In his first letter, he mentioned j your red hair.” ( Barry grinned. < “He also mentioned your taking a j hundred dollar bill out of an envelope , addressed to Mrs. Ridder.” J The grin faded. . “You haven’t made a move that I । haven’t known about.” He waited. “Why didn’t you have me arrested?” i "Because I knew that my son was । In prison, accused of tills murder. I read about that less than an hour after ( I’d satisfied myself that you weren't my son. Jay Rogers. I'd had a man j following him all about Florida. The ’ man’s report agreed perfectly with the , newspaper account of Jay Rogers.” , "Still—” ! “What was I to do? Sail? The doctor said that was out of the question. I wired Harwood ‘Rogers didn't kill Kelly. Find out who did.’ Twenty-four hours later. I knew you were on the ( Globe, and why, and that you'd sue ceeded in interesting Winslow.” (TO BE CONTINUED) Garibaldi Paved Way for Union of Sicily, Italy Recorded history of the Island of Sicily, which is the largest In the Mediterranean sea, begins with the establishment of the Greek city es Naxos In 735 B. C. This, with other Greek colonies established in the course of the following two centuries, became the center of thriving commerce. From the year 53G B. C. until the period of the Punic wars, Greeks and Carthaginians contended for mastery tn the Island, notes a writer In the Indianapolis News. In 210 B. C., Sicily became the first of the Roman provinces. During the Middle Ages, Goths, Byzantines and Saracens in succession held sway. At length, in 1090, the Normans made conquest of the land, and Roger II became king of Sicily In 1130. From the close of the Thirteenth century until the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713, Sicily was ruled by princes of Aragon and by the Spanish crown. In 1734, under Don Carlos, the kingdom of the Two Sicilies arose, uniting Naples and Sicily under a Bourbon dynasty, Garibaldi’s bold expedition in 1800 opened the way for the union j of Sicily with the kingdom of Italy in 186 L Believed in “Cramp” Ring* From the Fifteenth to the Twentieth century England believed in the effi cacy of cramp rings finger rings that would prevent cramps after they had been blessed by the king. Faith in these rings Increased so rapidly that the blessing was no longer needed, and millions were sold for other ailments such as rheumatism, epilepsy and fits. As late as 1912, "Genuine Anti-Rheu-matic Rings” were advertised in Eng- , lish farm magazines.—Collier's Weekly. ;

IMPROVED UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL SUNDAY I chool Lesson By REV. HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST. Dean of the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago. © Western Newspaper Union. Lesson for November 8 THE CHRISTIAN WARFARE LESSON TEXT — Acts 19:8-12, 18-20; Ephesians 6:13-20. GOLDEN TEXT—Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Eph. 6:10. PRIMARY TOPIC—When Paul Preached in a Schoolhouse. JUNIOR TOPIC—In a Schoolhouse in Ephesus. INTERMEDIATE AND SENIOR TOPIC —Weapons of the Christian Soldier. YOUNG PEOPLE AND ADULT TOPIC —The Gospel Facing the Forces of Evil. War, war! The whole world is war-conscious in jur day. Nations are watching one another with suspicion, and in the meantime arming themselves for conflict. Hatred and suspicion are rife, and as long as sin rules the hearts of men we long in vain for peace, which cannot come until that day when the Prince of Peace himself shall reign. Yet every Christian hopes and works for the peaceful solution of the nations’ problems. Right thinking men do not want war between the peoples of the earth. But there is one warfare that we do seek to foster and promote. We encourage it, and as Christians make a holy resolve to battle to the end. That is the warfare against Satan and his hosts. As long as he rules in the hearts of men, and sin and wickedness are here, we say, “Fight on, my soul.” Christian life and service are presented in Scripture as a fight, and we do well to learn the methods and the weapons of this great spiritual conflict, not stressing a belligerent note of strife against one another, and particularly not between the divisions of God’s army in the earth, but standing shoulder to shoulder in the battle against the Evil One. Our lesson presents a picture of I. The Lord’s Warrior (Acts 19:-8-12). Paul, who is now on his third missionary journey, comes again to i Ephesus, the leading city of Asia I Minor, and the center of the worship : of the heathen goddess, Diana. ’ He tarries there for about three years. Like a good tactician he began his campaign at a strategic point, the synagogue. He brought forward his God-given weapons, “reasoning and persuading.” Some he won, others disbelieved — the sad fact which even this greatest of all preachers had to meet. God attested his v.ork by miracles. The soldier of the Lord does not go into battle alone. Nor does he fight in his own power. God gave him 11. A Mighty Conquest (w. 1820). When a man's profession of faith in Christ carries with it an open forsaking of his confessed misdeeds —a true change of life as well as j a declaration of belief—there has I been real dealing with God. Notice, that they burned the bad ; books found in their homes, even though they were valued at thousands of dollars. Christian, how many books or magazines are there in your home now that minister only to the lowest in your nature? Oh, yes, they may be “literature,” they may be in beautiful bindings; you may even read them “in the original,” and regard the reading as cultural. But if they are bad books, are you ready to follow the Ephesians in destroying them? Finally we have from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians the glorious presentation of the Christian's HI. God-Given Weapons (E ph. 6:13-20). This is a familiar, but none the less rich and instructive, passage. We have space to note only that there are (1) five weapons of defense; namely, the girdle of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of peace, the shield of faith, and the helmet of salvation, and (2) one mighty weapon of offense, the sword of the Spirit—the Word of God. A glorious and impenetrable armor and equipment for battle! But it will do us not the slightest good unless we obey Paul’s admonition and put it on. Christian, are you wearing and using “the whole armor of God”? Fight the Good Fight “But out yonder in the wide forest, who knows what storms are raving tonight in the hearts of men, though all the woods are still? Who knows what haunts of wrath and cruelty and fear are closed tonight against the advent of the Prince of Peace? And shall I tell you what religion means to those who are called and chosen to dare and to fight, and do conquer the world for Christ? It means to launch out in to the deep. It means to go against the strongholds of the adversary. It means to struggle to win an entrance for their Master everywhere. A Golden Link A mother’s love is indeed the golden link that binds youth to age, and he is still but a child, however time may have furrowed his cheek, or silvered his brow, who can yet recall with a softened heart, the fond devotion, or the gentle chidings, of the best friend that God ever gives us. Acts That Bring Results No act falls fruitless; none can tell how vast its power may be; nor what results, enfolded, dwell within it silently.—Bulwer. A Friend Indeed Keep close to thy Best Friend, and He will refresh and cheer thee. —Spurjeon. God’s Holiness We must not only bless God for all his benefits: we must rejoice in I his holiness.—Mclntyre.

Wives, Know Yourselves!—Accurate Analysis Vi ill Do Much to Overcome Difficulty in Wedded Life

C PEAKING on the question of trial marriages, a well known V’riter said, “There should be no need for trial when two people know their own abilities and have measured themselves accurately. Two people who understand themselves will never, I believe, have any difficulty living happily together after marriage.” That is a new slant on the question of success in marriage, supplements a woman writer of national fame. Not “Know thy husband” —or “wife,” but “know thyself!” And, come to think of it, isn’t most of the discontent and dissatisfaction in marriage traceable to ideas of ourselves—that may be misconceptions, no less than our illusions about the other person? How many women’s dissatisfaction with their husband has as its source th thought of all they gave up to marry him, all they “might have had” if they had married a certain other man? How many women’s discontent with the role of wife and mother springs from the thought of how much more fascinating pastimes they might have had if they had followed that career? How many girl’s impossible expectations of a fulltime lover and Prince Charming originates in an exaggerated notion of their own devastating beauty and charm? If all discontented wives would look deeply unto themselves, measure themselves, stop fooling themselves, many might discover that the other man they might have married is a self-nurtured illusion; that the career of their dreams is not a soft snap and a joy forever; but a* grueling, exhausting job which might have

worn them out if they had qualified for it, which they probably would have been unable to do; that they themselves are neither devastating beauties nor always charming, but women who are

The Greatest Man 'T* HE greatest man is he who chooses the right with the most invincible resolution; who resists the sorest temptation from within and without; who bears the heaviest burdens cheerfully; who is calmest in storms, and most fearless under menaces and frowns, whose reliance on truth, and virtue, i and God, is most unfaltering. ' —William Ellery Channing. A man may be wrecked as is a ship. Conscience is an anchor. Terrible it is, but true, that like the anchor conscience may be carried away. —

»«»1 ff»s f — I'M 6T/LL C/ AW—THAT'S WHAT )। & WELL, l'M Wf HOW CAN IPE -CONSIDERING 1 ^OU SAID BEFORE/ / 1 DOING ALL I PATIENT WHEN MY ’YOU FOR THAT J say,'yes'or •no', | I can FOR HEAD acheb all the i JOB AS FOREST 1 CAN'T YOU, AND I H Yau, 808 —TJ T/ME ? I HAVEN'T HAD X I L gFjyNE WITH J~T^ you'/.4J1/STU A GOOD NIGHTS BLEEP ^JlLnEEfr^uaoi • TIME, YOU HE KNOWS HE U PATI ENT. ^/g ufat> WOULD 7* U KNOW! DOESN'T NEED ANY ACHE, TOO-^IF J MORE MEN — HEB HE EVER TRIED x ah ml/M GOT TWO RANGERS To THINK I BUT 17 po^ every f He's been bound JI "fel DEARS'. Klrv^AV^l r l ^ - jyy- iwmj \ V h*’I''* 1 ''* • \ V-~x~lT 1 —■ ——- ~ L's'4BosLjS l ’®®33BSa-- a •.w -?1 If TH AT DOESN'T y AW-HE SAID I'VE ?1 t/ WELL, IF YOU W OH, ALL RIGHT— £ i BOUND LIKE YOU If GOV COFFEE-NERVES I I WANT To BE A K T'LL TRY IT! I CAN'T t ? WERE PHYSICALLY a -TOLD ME TO CUT OUT I FOREST RANGER, ’N FEEL ANY toja I QUALIFIED FOR J COFFEE AND SWITCH B HoB, YOU'D M j THIS JOB, BOB— [ To PoSTUM FoR r- r 1 PETTER Vo aS /V ^4 > v™nT SSttoC J 30 DAYS-WHAT^ THwfBED^THEN ' IF! 5 ^°'^V°CTOR,~^^ BUNK! ScriS: aMiu a^r/y HE'S SWITCHING Im^AY ? ^^ABK 'TO POBVUM-IT'B CLUCK Vj 5 3S ' T W <IX ^TA ^L TIMBER I 3 igf I c VVHAT HAPPENED d fm&UKMKHah^ the year they - irat Bißirlplw^ ep^Psßto^lM ■■Aft j¥VM\ I /cont£-n L V^jigSS^^k ^Jr S. \ ’ ' — ■’’' " f ' 1 ' Os COURSE, children should never drink coffee. OAV^ I ATFC \ And many grown-ups, too, find that the caffein in ..^ THANKS FOR coffee disagrees with them. If you have headaches y t'm starting you U the change ! or ind *g estion or can<t sleep «> u “ dl y"- tr y Pottum. OUT IN THE TOUGHEST/^ CHIEF ' I FEEL £ Tt contains no caffein - 11 is simply whole wheat and j T RANGE ON THE cgiN' UP TO j bran roasted and slightly sweetened. ' A ^OVOW^YOU'LL ( k ANYTHIN^ O You may miss coffee at first, but after 30 days ! i M.AkE GOOD “~T^NCE I I you’ll love Postum for its own rich, satisfying flavor. 'X ' i M Postum comes in tw’o forms-Postum Cereal, the x t, kind you boil, and Instant Postum. made instantly 2t y .V—A in the cup. Either way it is easy to make, delicious. A /' economical, and may prove a real help. A product of ^"wk General Foods. ivAt wiK W FREE — Let is send you your first week’s supply of I L 11 A^/V ; jilt Postum free.' Simply mall coupon, c ». • ” . •■. r »<• '■ ■ J/ i ■ if “* i- Gbhewal Foods, Battle Creek, Mi^h. \ /,&< i A KA if S' Send me. without obligati n. a week's surt'v c• _ Instant I \ : T ’MT B 3 Postum 22 Postum Cereal (chsck kind ycu r r'f> r , Bk^*^ I ^t' Name — ^■X t-1 II Street — — k . • x. A City State , — U<x*bt Fill in completely, print name and address I IfffSffiiiiM.T. , APrUitd If you live in Canada, address: General Foods. Ltd., I VV Cobourg, Ont. (Offer expires July 1, 1937.)

frequently disappointing and difficult to live with. They might discover and admit to themselves that they are greatly in debt to their husbands for many things that make life easier and better and more worthwhile —that they would not get along so well without them. Then they might think more of doing their part of trying to make those husbands happy, z nd that effort on the part of one must inevitably go a long way toward a mutually happy and successful marriage. © Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service. Foreign Words and Phrases Amor patriae. (L.) Love of country. Contra bonos mores. (L.) Contrary to the moral law. Dirigo, (L.) I direct or guide. (The motto of Maine.) En fin. (F.) At the end; finally. Functus officio (L.) Having fulfilled his office; out of office. Genius loci. (L.) The genius of the place; the guardian spirit. Malum in se. (L.) A thing evil in itself, inherently wrong. Obiter dictum. (L.) A remark in passing; such part of a judge’s opinion as is aside from or beyond the point at issue, and therefore not binding as a precedent. Bienvenu. (F.) Welcome. Sa voir vivre. (F.) The knowing how to live; good breeding. Tu quoque. (L. )You too; you’re another. Ultima Thule. (L. Farthest Thule or land; utmost bound.

hi ii orrm Vitamin B in Quaker Oats Promotes Good Appetite, Healthy Nerves and System O Doctors warn against a shortage of Vita rain Bio dies S 3 of either youngsters or adults. BlMS***™** I ^^® So give the whole family a Quaker Oats breakfast every AS day. It supplies plenty of the wonderful 3-purpose Vitamin to com b at nervousness, constipation, and poor appetite due to lack of Vitamin B. Order a package of Quaker Oats by name from your grocer today. ' ; 55

What Luck the Lady Did Not Have Quinsy It was the evening of an interesting family event, and the master of the house, who hoped it would be a son, had been pacing the floor, anxiously awaiting the doctor. When the physician entered the room the father seized him by the arm and demanded: “Is it a boy or a girl?” “Tr-tr-tr ” gasped the doctor, who stuttered rather badly. “Triplets!” “Qu-qu-qu ” stammered the doctor. “Quadruplets! Man alive! What is it you say!” “No-n-no. Tr-tr-try to take it qu-qu-quietly. It’s a girl.” But the father was beyond hearing the truth. He had swooned. I 44AWARDS1 ■ ATONE , STATE I ; L FAIR / ** ♦ - Jk* —' / . the rtewd of cat exhibitor who his cud nuny bands sat who now bus CLABBER GIRL, IKIBSIYdy. 7 ONLY m AsStf Yow Grocer / Has H