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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. To relieve IWk Misery of vULI/U f* {* f* Liquid, Tablet*, 000 Salve, Nose Drops, Cough Drops Try “Rub-My-Tism”-a Wonderful Liniment ygP^KEYS larrimore (p/WRAC SWITH CO. W.N.U. SERVICE 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.