Newspaper Page Text
PAGE TWO.
THE JACKSON HERALD
$1.50 A YEAR—IN ADVANCE
PUBLISHED WEEKLY
Entered it The Jrffenon Poitoffice
A K Second-Clan Mail Matter
Official Organ of Jaclcton County
JOHN N. HOLDER
Editor & Manager
MRS. JOHN N. HOLDER
Associate Editor & Manager
JEFFERSON, GA., NOV. 7, 1940.
“LIVING AT HOME”
PROGRESSES
One of the brightest spots on the
horizon for tho future of Georgia is
the fact that the farm families of
this state are more and more devel
oping a balanced farm plan and
rapidly carrying out a worthwhile
“live at home” program.
For a number of years agricul
tural and educational leaders have
urged each farm family to under
take u “live at home” program and
have given encouragement to those
who started such a plan. Workers
from the state extension department
have gone into every section of the
state and aided in the formation of
the program.
Now r we are seeing actual results
of their labors. In all the counties
there are many families carrying out
a well balanced “live at home” plan
and despite the low prices of their
farm products they are finding that
they can make a comfortable living
for tin mselves.
Last year over 200,000 acres of j
farmland in Georgia were terraced
and ‘ there was a considerable in- 1
crease in construction of farm build
ings, home water systems and REA !
lighting systems.
Over 3,300 purebred cattle and
sheep were placed on the farms be
sides the 13,576 purebred hogs se
cured by 4-H club members. Some
20,000 flocks of poultry of standard
brands are owned by Georgians for
home use.
Nealy 10,000,000 acres of feed
and forage crops were planted and
around 98,000 acres in land turned
into permanent pastures. Approxi
mately 9,000,000 pine seedlings were
planted and 2,000,000 acres of for
est land protected from forest fires
by co-operative organizations.
The continued development of
home gardens and orchards have
added much to the “live at home”
program. Besides having sufficient
vegetables and fruits for home use
and ample supplies canned for the
winter, Georgia farmers sold more
than $4,000,000 worth of surplus
garden products last year.
Working with this general pro
gram has been the home demonstra
tion and coflnty agents of the vari
ous counties. Some 26,500 farm
women are members of home demon
stration clubs and over 30,0Q0 girls
and 50,000 boys are enrolled in the
4-H clubs. These youthful Geor
gians completed projects that brought
them $2,666,710.
This fine program is growing
throughout the state each year.
Farm families are learning that they
must grow their own vegetables,
meats and wheat and they no longer
can depend entirely on the cotton,
peanut or tobacco crops.
With Georgia’s temperate climate
and the soil fitted for growing al
most every kind of crop, there is no
need for a farm family not to be
able to grow all their food supplies
on their furm, and as this program
continues to grow Georgia farmers
will once *igain .{prosper.—Dawson
News.
A GOOD CITIZEN
You will not bo üblo to vote until
you are 21 years of age. but that
doos not mean that you must wait
that long to become a citizen. Ev
ery boy and every girl can be a good
citizen, in an important sense of the
word, now.
One duty of the good citizen is
to obey laws. And this includes
those minor regulations which every
community has for the benefit and
protection of its members. For in
stance, the good citizen picks up
paper and banana skins after a pic
nic. He obeys the park regulations.
He is careful not to damage equip
ment at the playground or recre
ation room.
Boys and girls can also take an
active part in improving their neigh
borhoods. Often juvenile clubs un
dertake such projects as cleaning up
an unsightly vacant lot, planting
trees and flowers where they are
needed, and doing similar woik to
make the community a rare attrac
tive place.
All these things are the test of
your citizenship today. They also
offer a chance for you to show your
qulaities as a leader.
PAYING BILLS
John came out of his office, whist
ling a happy tune, and almost ran
squarely into his old-time friend.
“Why so gay?” asked Walter; “has
a long-lost uncle croaked?”
‘Paying my bills,’ replied John.
And in hie hand he displayed a num
ber of envelopes he was mailing.
“Paying bills ” exclaimed Walter;
“you look as though you enjoyed it.”
“Well, I do; don’t you?”
“Do I like it?” retorted Walter;
"say, I’d put off paying my bills
’til doomsday, if they’d let me—l
love it so.”
“I like to pay my bills,” said John,
gently; “it gives me that free feel
ing, and it makes me feel rather
pleasant to know' that I have the
money to pay what I owe. I make
my money to have the pleasure of
paying it out again. I bless every
check I write, and hope that it
brings the one who gets it as much
pleasure as it gives me to write it.”
“Oh, well, maybe that’s a new
fangled religion you have,” said
Walter, sarcastically. But, as he
passed on, there was a thoughtful
look on his face.
This little story makes us question
ourselves. How do we pay our hills?
Some of us do it begrudgingly,
groaning over the total of them, be
wailing the high prices of commodi
ties, wishing that we did not have to
eat or wear clothes or live in houses,
thinking dolorously /of the old days
when eggs were ten cents a dozen
and potatoes fifty cents a bushel.
We forget that the rising prices have
meant more comfort to the great
majority of people.
That is a sad way to pay bills.
Probably the persons who look on
the wrong side of this question will
always find that paying their bills
comes hard, no matter how much
their income may increase.
But there are the happy folk,
like John, who pay their bills with
joy and thanksgiving, sending a
blessing with every coin and every
check. Paying a bill in this spirit
says, “I had a blessing from the
food that I bought from the grocer,
or from the clothes that I bought;
so I pay gladly, and with my money
I send a blessing back to the seller
and to the producer of these things.”
To one who takes this view of a
transaction, there is no feeling of
dismay at high prices. If we would
be a part of the prosperity of our
nation, we should never part with
our money begrudgingly, but be hap
py in the thought that the distribu
tion of our money will add a bit of
joy and prosperity to someone per
haps in greater need than we.
EXTENDING THE LIGHT
Of all the public moneys spent
since the beginning of the New Deal
it is to be seriously doubted if any
has been used to so good effect as
the money that the Rural Electrifi
cation Administration has spent to
bring electric light and power to
the farmers of the nation.
Already 250,000 miles of power
line have been erected, serving the
farms in many sections which previ
ously had to depend upon kerosene
lamps, or candles, for light, ana up
on mule and human power to oper
ate the farm and the home.
Now, under the administration
program for the coming twelve
months, it is planned to spend an ad
ditional $100,000,000 on the pro
gram, which should mean at least
100,000 additional miles of power
line in the rural areas.
Many a farm home has been made
an abode of happiness instead of a
site of unremmitting labor, because
electric power has made possible the
use of refrigerators, electric churns
and washing machines, electric con
veniences of every description.
Many farmers are, for the first time,
finding it possible to profitably cul
tivate all their acreage, because of
the help electricity has provided in
the necessary chores of the farm.
Today the extension of this rural
power has another advantage. It
makes possible the establishment of
numerous industrial plants, remov
ed from the more congested areas,
for the making of necessities in
armament and supply for the nation
al defense program. It is stated that
it would be virtually impossivle for
any enemy to disrupt, for more than
a bare few minutes, the supply of
power carried over these farflung
lines.
The day will undoubtedly come—
and the sooner the better —-when
every farm home in this country
may have, if it will, the blessing of
electric light and electric power.
Neither new' New' Deal, or any othei
administration, could give to Ameri
ca a material gift surpassing that in
better-living value. —Atlanta Journ
al.
THE JACKSON HERAI-D, JEFFERSON, GEORGIA
YIELDS OF COTTON
ARE VERY GOOD IN
GEORGIA THIS YEAR
Georgia’s one-variety cotton farm
ers are producing very satisfactory
yields this year, despite unfavorable
weather conditions for lint produc
tion.
Cotton is a hot weather plant.
The weather was cooler than usual
during the spring, summer, and fall,
and nights have been unusually cool
for a large part of the year. Such
weather conditions, together with
fewer days of hot weather, are un
favorable to cotton production.
These unusual weather variations
have caused the staple length to be
sightly shorter than last year and
• has caused the percentage of lint to
be smaller.
In many areas, farmers have com
plained of poor gin turn out. This-,
however, is not a local condition,
but one that is very general this
season. *lt is not caused by the
particular variety grown or by the
quality of seed planted, since all
varieties of seed have been affected
in the same manner. With a return
to normal weather conditions, fann
ers can expect the same kind of turn
out at the gin that they have been
getting in previous years.
Preliminary tests made by a num
ber of cotton mills indicate that the
staple, while slightly shorter than
1939, is very strong and tough in
character,- which means that it
should prove very desirable for cot
ton manufacturers.
GEORGIA’S APPLES
The $400,000 apple harvest in the
Georgia mountains is now in full
swing, with a considerably larger
yield than usual.
While apples for local consump
tion are grown throughout the state,
most of the big commercial orchards
are in three sections: Habersham
and Rabun Counties to the northeast;
Pickens, Gilmer, Cherokee and Fan
nin in the north, and Pope and
Floyd in northwest Georgia. Rich
minerals in the mountain soil give
Georgia apples a superior flavor.
The crop this year will be approxi
mately 477,000 bushels, about 30,-
000 bushels more than last year’s
yield, according to the U. S. Crop
Reporting Service of Athens, Ga.
Orchards contain spring, summer
and fall varieties, so the harvest con
tinues throughout the summer, with
the fall crop most important.
WHY WE ARE FAILURES
A noted psychologist was asked
recently tb explain why there are
so many failures in life. He gave
10 reasons—lo terrible reasons:
1. Finding fault with the other
fellow, but never seeing our own.
2. Doing as little as possible, and
trying to get as much as possible for
it.
3. Spending much time showing up
the other fellow’s weak points, and
too little correcting our own.
4. Slandering those we do not
like.
5. Procrastination —putting off
until tomorrow something that we
should have done day before yes
terday.
6. Deceit —talking friendly to the
other fellow’s face and stabbing him
in the back as soon as he turns
away.
7. False belief that we are smart
enough to reap a harvest of pay be
fore sowing a crop of honest service.
8. Disloyalty to those who have
trusted us.
9. Egotism—the belief that we
know it all, and no one can tell us
anything.
10. Last, but not least, lack of
necessary training to enable us to
stand at the head in our line of
work.
The chief obstructions to quick
arming lie in the munitions indus
try. Anti-aircraft guns are not as
easily bought as ate canned toma
toes. America had virtually gone
out of the armament business. The
nation is having to start from
scratch, making tools and building
plants before it can get guns and
ammunition. Experts say that if
America can re-arm within tw'o
years it will be doing a remarkable
job, one which it took Germany and
Great Britain four years to do.
To be most effective, soil building
must be carried out on a long-time
basis.
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CHAPTER X
Kitty Cameron lifted her eyes
from a magazine as Gay spoke to
her at the door of her dressing
room.
“Hello!” she said. “Have you
just returned" Where’s John?”
“Here.” Gay drew him forward.
“Yes, we’ve just returned.”
“Hello, John! Come in. There’s
a photograph of J.he ‘Gabriella’ in
‘Town and Country,’Gay. Todd has
sold it to Tony Merrill.”
“Has he?” Gay kissed her moth
er. “Whew, it’s hot in here. May I
raise a window?”
‘ Let me.” John lifted a sash be
hind taffeta curtains, letting a
stream of air into the softly lit. fra
grant room. Lights bloomed through
the dusk. A few stars shone. At
an angle he saw a freighter moving
slowly on the dark surface of the
river below, trailing a brighter wash
of churning foam.
“Br-r-r!” Kitty Cameron sat up
and leaned forward to reach the fur
coverlet folded at the foot of the
chaise-longue. “You come in here
glowing like mountain climbers and
proceed to freeze me out ”
“You invited us.” Gay dropped
into a chair beside the chaise
longue. “You’re a hot-house blos
som, Kitty. Where’s Robert.?”
“Playing hand-ball at the club.”
Gay’s mother lay back against cush
ions, under the fur coverlet. “He’s
distressed about his waist-line. Sit
down, John, but not in that chair.
This is the only one Robert really
trusts.” She gestured. Peach-colored
chiffon in a fan of tiny pleats fell
back from her rounded arm. Her
long, very deep blue eyes moved
from John to Gay. “You must have
enjoyed the country. I expected
you yesterday. What have you done
to make yourself look so blowsy,
Gay? Your face is as red as a to
mato.”
“Couldn’t you have said as red as
a Christmas rose? You have no po
etry in your soul. She looks as
though she would have, doesn’t she,
John? Look at her. Peach-blossoms
and spun-glass and as practical as
a garden rake.”
“Rake?” her mother queried,
laughing. “I don’t demand a great
deal of filial respect but aren’t you
carrying matters a little too far?”
“Much too far,” John said. His
laughter mingled with the feminine
laughter chiming in the dainty lux.
urious room. He relaxed in the
chair, which looked fragile but was
comfortable, and lit a cigarette.
“Thank heaven, there’s a little
chivalry left in the world.” Kitty
Cameron’s sparkling glance rested
upon John for a moment, then turned
to Gay. “But you haven’t answered
my question. Asa parent I demand
to know what you’ve been up to.
John’s ears are purple.”
“We drove in with the top down,
or rather John drove, and we
couldn’t find ear-tabs or a tippet.”
Kitty Cameron shuddered. “Have
n’t you any sense?”
“It was marvelous, except that
John has a mania for speed which
I’ve never suspected. I was certain
we’d spend his last night here in a
magistrate’s office.”
“Are you leaving tomorrow?”
“Tonight, Mrs. Cameron.”
“Must you, John?” Gay’s eyes
clouded. The brightness dimmed out
of her face.
“Must, Gay. I’ve overstayed my
leave of absence by one day al
ready.”
“The late sleeper, then.”
“Yes,” he said, and was silent.
“Oh, that’s really too bad.” Kitty
Cameron’s expression was • dis
tressed. “I expected you to stay
over the week-end, at least. If I’d
had any idea—”
“What have you been up to, Moth
er?” Gay asked. “You’ve no idea
how guilty you look.”
“It s Robert.” She sighed, then
smiled. “I learned long ago that
surprises are usually not appreciat
ed.”
“Has Robert planned a surprise
for us?”
“He has made arrangements to
take us for dinner and dancing at
the Heron Club.
“That was dear of him,” Gay
said slowly, “but—”
“I told him he should consult you.
Well, don’t think of it again. Rob
ert will be disappointed and what
he’ll say to the others—But that’s
his predicament.”
“The others? Is it a party?”
“Ten, I believe. Tory Wales
and her fiance and Peter and Con
nie Belmont and—”
Gay’s eyes met John’s in dismay.
“We should have stayed in the
country,” she said.
“Robert wanted to do something
for you. Gay.” Kitty Cameron's tone
held a faint rebuke.
“I appreciate that. But John's
last night—A party!”
“You’ve never shown any dislike
for parties,” her mother said mild
ly. “On the contrary— But you
needn't. Robert was letting off
steam. He was so incensed yester
day when your Aunt Flora was here.
She has the ability to stir up antag
onism in even Robert’s genial soul.”
The laughter, the gaiety had gone
out of her voice. John saw that
her contentment was shattered. She
glanced at him guardedly, wonder
ing, he knew, what effect further
discussion of their situation would
have upon him. He smiled, but,
studying her expression, he knew
that he had failed to reassure her
completely.
“I know how it irritates you to be
questioned,” she said, obviously
choosing her approach with care.
“But under the circumstances,
Gay—”
“We have no definite plans.”
“Then you won’t be married this
winter?”
“No.” Gay said and was silent.
“But I thought— You told me—”
“That Dad was wangling a place
for John in the research department
at Johns Hopkins,” Gay said evenly.
“Wasn’t he successful? I should
think that considering what his fa
ther did for the hospital, there
should be no question of a refusal.”
“There will be an opening at the
first of the year.”
“But I am not free to accept it,
Mrs. Cameron,” John said. “I’m
obligated until October.”
“Couldn’t some arrangement be
made?”
“I’m afraid not.” He knew that
his voice expressed the resentment
he felt. He had no reason to feel
resentful, he told himself. Gay’s
mother had every right to make in
quiries. But he had come to fear
the effect upon Gay, upon himself,
of further useless discussion. It was
only by avoiding any reference to
the future that they had maintained,
these past two days in the country,
a close and intimate companionship.
It was his fault. The sense of in
adequacy he felt was deeply humili
ating. How could he make Gay’s
mother understand the nature of his
obligation, the impossibility of buy
ing his release? Buy his release? he
thought bitterly. Permit Gay to
buy it for him—
In the silence which followed his
reply, he saw Kitty Cameron turn
with a baffled expression to her
daughter.
“But, Gay—” she began.
“Does it matter, Mother, except to
John and< to me?” Gay sat forward
in her chair, her color heightened,
her attitude defensive. “Other peo
ple have had to wait. John knows
best what his obligations are. If
I’m willing to—” She dropped back
into the chair with a short mirthless
laugh. "‘After all the fuss there’s
been, I can’t understand why you
try to rush us into marriage.”
“I’m jjot trying to rush you into
anything. I’m merely trying to find
out, if I can, what you expect to
do.”
“Whatever I do needn’t interfere
with your plans, Mother. You’ve
accepted the Davenports’ invitation,
haven’t you?”
“Tentatively. But you wouldn’t
enjoy it, darling. A six weeks’
cruise. No young people and the
Davenports aren’t stimulating com
pany.”
“Besides which, I haven’t been
invited. Go, of course, Mother. The
Davenports are dull but you and
Robert enjoy yourselves wherever
you are.”
“But what will you do?” Kitty
Cameron’s glance, a little embar
rassed, he thought, turned to John.
“I don’t suppose all of this is very
entertaining to John.”
“Why not?” Gay folded her arms
beneath her head. “I can go to
Daytona with Aunt Flora.”
“You couldn’t, Gay!”
“No, I guess you’re right. Well,
I could go to Italy with Dad, though
he doesn’t really want me. When
I’m with him he thinks he should do
things to entertain me. He’s much
happier poking around in art muse
ums and book-shops and cathedrals
alone.”
“David was born a bachelor,” Da
vid Graham’s former wife said with
out rancor, in indulgent extenua
tion. “He’s always happier alone,
though when I made that possible
the heavens fell.” Her attention re
turned to the subject under discus
sion. “I want to know that you
are provided for, before I accept
the Davenports’ invitation definite
ly. You always have invitations.”
“I’ll visit Tory in Palm Beach.
It’s usually amusing there," she
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1940.
said with a forced gaiety which
struck through John's heart in a
stab of quivering pain. “I, in Palm
Beach, John, in Maine. You and
Robert, cruising with the Daven
ports. May we all survive!”
Kitty Cameron regarded her
daughter thoughtfully, her brow be
neath the soft waves of her amazing
hair, puckered in lines of doubt. As
she opened her lips to speak, the
telephone rang. She took the instru
ment from the table beside the
chaise-longue.
“Hello . . • Yes, darling,” John
heard her say. “Yes, they’re here.
John is leaving tonight ... No, I
had no idea ... Of course I’ve
told them . . . Wait a minute . . .
It’s Robert,” she said. “What shall
I tell him? Do you want to go to
the Heron Club?”
‘‘Shall we, John?” Gay’s eyes met
his, glancingly, clouded at what she
read in his face.
“If you would like to, Gay.”
The constraint in his voice ended
her indecision. It was his fault, he
thought miserably. He had de
stroyed their plans for the evening,
the plans they had made driving
in from the country this afternoon.
In rilence he saw her raise her head.
“We’ll go,” she said, too lightly,
too quickly. “Tell Robert we’d love
■ to, Kitty.”
I Kitty Cameron’s lips parted as
though she meant to speak. Then
her brow cleared. Her shoulders
under the peach-colored negligee
made a faint shrugging motion. She
spoke into the transmitter.
The orchestra made preliminary
sounds, then swung smoothly, in
gratiatingly, into a waltz. The blond,
burly young Englishman leaned
across the long table toward Gay.
“This is my dance, I think,” he
said with a slightly formal inclina
tion of his head.
The sandy-haired young man
whom John had not met before this
evening intervened. “My dance,
Gay. You promised.”
“Gay saves her waltzes for me,”
Robert Cameron said from the end
of the table. “She doesn’t trust my
foot-work in anything more mod
ern.”
“What it is to be popular!” Tory
Wales sighed in laughing derision.
“You’re in fine form tonight, Ga
briella.” Connie Belmont fluttered
her long lashes at them across the
table. ‘‘lf Pete wasn’t your cousin,
I’d be a wall-flower, too.”
John turned to Gay.
“Will you dance with me?” he
asked quietly.
Her eyes, brilliant with animation
for the others, clouded as her quick
upward glance met his.
“I’d like to,” she said and rose
as he got up to pull back her chair.
“Excusp me,” she said directly to
Robert Cameron and, silently, at
John’s side, walked to the edge of
the dance floor.
She was light in his arms. He
scarcely felt her hands, on his shoul
der in his hand. She held herself
at a little distance from him. He
could not see her face, only her red
brown hair, brushed smooth tqnight,
bound with a narrow bandeau of
dull gold leaves. They circled the
floor in silence. Then John said:
“It’s a nice party.”
“Yes, isn’t it?” she said and was
silent again.
He had thought that, dancing, he
might find her again. During this
interminable evening, she had held
him off as, now, physically, she kept
a distance between them. Her ani
mation for the others excluded him,
though he had sat beside her. Si
lently, miserably, unable to respond
to her mood, he had watched the ef
fect of her high spirits upon the
party. Now with him, alone, she
was silent.
“Are you having a good time?”
he asked, when again and more
slowly, as the number of dancers
increased, they had circled the floor.
‘Oh, yes!” she said. “Are you?”
“No! You know I’m not!”
She drew back and looked up at
him. “Why not?” she asked lightly,
smiling, her eyes sparkling in dark
blue glints between the thick
straight lashes. “It’s a beautiful
party. Robert always does things'
nicely.” Her expression changed.
“Oh John, no!” She gave a little
despairing cry. “I’xn miserable. I’ve
never spent such a wretched eve
ning. Why didn’t we do as we’d
planned? Robert wouldn’t have
minded.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
TIJE BEST DRAFT STORY
There have been many human r
humorous or odd stories that have
come from the draft boards of the
nation, since registration day on
October 16.
The best of them all, however,
came from LaGrange, Ga.
There a well known citizen pre
sented himself for registration. His
age, he said, brought him within the
limit by just a few minutes. That
is, according to central standard
time, as observed in LaGrange.
But the man was born in Virginia,
which is on eastern standard time.
And, going by that time, he was too
old to register, again by a few
minutes. He was 35 on LaGrange
time and 36 on Virginia time.
The problem was referred to
Washington and the ruling came
down he did not have to register,
his age is measured according to
prevailing time at place of birth.