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SARAH’S POT-CHEESE VENTURE (@© by D. J. Walsh.) ARAH DAVISON stood with clenched hands staring at the door which Doctor Forrest had just closed behind him. It was a dingy door, with one cracked panel, and she was at that moment acutely conscious of the dinginess and the crack, Her whole being, hitherto com fortably sluggish, seemed to have been aroused by what she had just heard. From an inner room the sick man, her busband, called to her. “Sate! Sate!” She unclenched her hands and went to him, Standing at the foot of the bed, she tooked down at him as he lay there, a great helpless bulk with pa thetie anxlety In his haggard eyes, “What'd Doe say about me, Sate?” Ira Davigon demanded. “Why, he seemed to think you were getting along all right,” Sarab an swered, “But when'd he say I'd be up?” Sarah thought of the doctor's terse last words, spoken low so that her husband could not hear. “He'll be all summer getting well, and even then he's got to be careful for a good while,” But she could not tell Irn that, “He didn't say,” she replied. “It 1 have to lay here a month, hav ing a doctor every day, it'll take every dollar I've saved up,” fretted the man. Sarah smiled, “Oh, pshaw,” she sald. “You're see ing a lot of trouble over nothing. Now you go to gleep and when you wake up we'll talk it over.” Outside the door she stood until ghe heurd him breathing long and sofily in slumber, then she tiptoed to the kitchen. She wanted to think, to think hard. If Ira was all summer recovering from the sickness that had attacked him so suddenly and so vio lently it wounld take every penny they had, even perhaps necessitate putting a mortgage on the house. They were poor, yet they had always been frugal, fra hand worked hard but he had earned only enough for their needs and the tiny rainy-day fund, which would now 8o soon be dissipated. She had kept the house. For fifteen years the gentle monotony of their lives had been broken by one event—the death of their child, That event, however, had merely proved a great . sorrow. This event of Ira's sickness involved a problem, “It looks as If I'd have to do some thing,” Sarah sald to herself. “But what ean 1 do that won't Interfere with my taking care of my man?” She looked around the neat, plain room helplessly., Her eyes foll upon a bow! standing upon the table, She had been on the point of 1+ ing that bowl to Mrs. Swan's wh n the doctor came, Mrs. Swan had boon se Kind to Ira, bringing him broth and fruit, that Sarsh had wanted to make some slight return. e “I'll have to take It right over If ghe's going so have it for supper,” she thought, and, snatching up the bowl, she darted out of the house. Her noxt.door neighbor was In her kitchen and she opened the door smil fng. i “Here's a bowl of pot-cheese for you, Mrs, Swan," Sarah sald. *1 made some this morning, more than T need. Ira won't touch it, yon know."” This wits her excuse for her ‘offering, Mrs. Swan looked at the contents of the howl, : “1 love pot-cheese,” she sald. “This looks very nice, How Is Ira?® “Doctor thinks he'll be a long time getting well™ Sarah turned away. She was prond and did not want to say more than that. When she returned home she bholled the teakettle and made a pot of tea, She could not eat any supper. Her mind was too full of anxiety, Two or three times she went softly to look at Ira, He was sleeping, and as sleep was what he needed, she moved away without waking him In order to keep the house qulet, she flung a shawl about her and sat down upon the back steps. The sky was warmed by the spring afterglow. It was a time for great peace and con tentment for all save such troubled ones as Sarah, There Mrs, Swan found her when she came to retorn the empty bowl, She sat down heside Sarah so close that thelr shonlders touched. “The pot-cheese was deliclons,” she sald, “1 mever ate such potcheese, Mrs. Corbin bhad supper with me. and she raved about it. She wanted me to ask you If you would sell her some every day. She takes It with cream and sugar® “Of course I'l make It for her” Surah replied, “or any one else who wants It It doesf't cost anything but time. Mr. Armstrong gives me the milk ™ “One has to have a knack for mak. Ing pot-cheese™ Mrs. Swan sald. *I never had any luck with it. And you can't buy It at the groceries. I've often thought that a good trade might be worked up on It [t's one of these simple things that talke™ Was she trying to help Sarah, know ing how great a need there was of such help? Sarah did not know. But the Iden had caught In Sarah's bar assed braln. Potcheese! It seemed ridiculons, but still, If Mrs. Corbin wanted It others might. She would see what she could do “That's a lovely sunset,” remarked the little nelghbor after an Instant “Yes, lovely." responded Sarah, Next morning Sarah rose not with out hope Rhe gave Ira hix hreakfam, ate some hersell. put her house In or der and made ready for the street. She told Ira as she kissed him good by that she had an errand to do, and he never questioned further, Sarah stepped fast, There was a glow on her plain, sweet face under the shabby hat-brim. She went first to the grocery, where she paid her bills promptly, even in this time of stress, then to the other groceries. “Pot-cheese?” said genial Mr, Crum, “Sure! Bring it right along. 1 often have customers ask for {it, specially those eity people over on Oak street.” Sarah went home elated. It did not seem possible! She had orders for six dozen balls of pot-cheese. Bix dozen was seventy-two, and five times sev enty-two—"" * She laughed as she took off the shabby hat, Ira heard her. “What's up, Sate?” he asked in his weak voice, “Something's tickled you.” “Ot course., You're getting well,” returned Sarah with almost sprightly wit, That was a busy day, bargaining with Mr. Armstrong for cans of the skim milk which he found such a nuisance to dispose of, bolling the snowy curd, working in butter, pep per, salt. Sarah sang like the wren in the apple tree outside the open window where she worked. That night Ira had a bit of broiled stenk for his supper. That night Sarah looked half a dozen times iln her purse to see if what was so for tunate, so unbelievable, were really true, ; Sarah’s pot-cheese sold almost fast er than she could make it. She grew a little reckless, putting in cream, streaking the suowy mass with pi mento, Mr. Crum said it was amazing what a taste folks had for pot-cheese. “If you keep on like this,” he said, “you’ll have to have an assistant.” Sarah laughed. She could laugh at anything now. Ira was much better, Any day now he might be up and around the house Then she would have to tell him what she was up to, divulge the secret which was keeping her so happy. “Now, Sate, you've got to tell me what you're up to. You're up to some thing,” Ira demanded a day or two later, Sarah brought a bank-book and showed him an entry. She brought her grocery bills, each one marked paid; brought her purse, which was comforting, if not plethoric, “Everythin's paid, Ira—doctor and all. I've never touched a penny of our savings,” she said. “You wonderful girl!” Ira's eyes filled. *“And to think you did it all with pot-cheese!” Laborador Fir Forests of Enormous Value Labrador, since the definition of its boundary with Canada, is being dis cussed as a possible summer haven for yachtsmen and a source of wood pulp. Though the southern end of wcabrador is In the latitude of London and the northern tip opposite Petrograd, no warm ocean current washes its shores to produce the temperate climate of northern Europe. Cold winter winds sweep down from the Arctic across a rocky and sparsely inhabited coast, though explorers say the short sum mers are delightful. The entire region at present has only about 3,600 population, about 500 less than forty years ago. North of the settlement of Hopedale, half way lip the coast from Newfoundland, the country is peopled mainly by Eskimos, who have been largely Christianized and live in neat wooden houses, sup porting themselves by seal and cod fisheries. In the Inteior scattered In dians and halfbreeds hunt the fox, marten, bear, wolverine and other fur bearing enimals which haunt ever green woods stretching as far north as the Arctic boundary of forestation; This fir belt covers large arens of the interior of Labrador in all but the extreme northern part, but only touches the rocky coast at the heads of long narrow bays and the mouths of rivers. As a futura course of paper pulp this hitherto little regarded re glon is of Immense value, and already a few mills have been established and concessions granted. Pulp forests are one of the potential sources of wealth. Another asset is unlimited water pow er of the numerous coastal rivers. White settlements are mainly on the southeastern coast of Labrador, There n sparse but sturdy population of Seoteh and Scandinavian extraction, together with a few French Canadinns, carry on cod and whale fisherlies. The number of white Inhabitants !s quad rupled in the summer months by New foundlanders who go north for cod fishing, the principal Industry. Of late years the whale, seal and cod have all decreased In numbers in Labrador waters. This is thought to be one rea son for the steadily diminishing pop ulation of the coast. Anothe. factor Is that covtact with diseases of clvill. satlon hea proved fatal to whole com munities of Eskimos and Indians. Mis slonaries are making herole efforts to save (he remainder of the native races from extinetion by teaching them to adapt thelr mode of living to changed conditions, and these good offices have met with considerable success. “Traveling” Libraries The first traveling library in Ames lea was ostablished In 1002 at Hagers town, Md. It is ealled the Washing ton County Free library. There I 8 a contral library In Hagerstown and sta tlons (o the small towns In th ' county. These latter are supplied with books from the central library, and » book wagon especiall; planned to earry nearly a thousand volumes makes teips throughout the county with Fouseto house delivery of books CHARLTON COUNTY HERALD ’= TR ey L | : S % 3&: ! a 5 A RV i~ SO T (&, & 4 \"g”‘» _}\;:’," P Iy NP ATI ,‘e-‘:/'if, i i \ ,'k -2 /il A 33&8‘% tffimfi Pl For Thristmas ov Thpist By NoniC.Bailey MINDFUL of the icy air, Mollie shook the great feather bed and turned it over. Her black eyes s sparkled as she sang, “Where e’er we go, we'll not forget—" “Mollie! Aln’t you ever comin’ to help get breakfast? John Henry’s got the chores done, I hear him comin’ with the milk,” Sue, calling from the kitch en, was skimming frozen cream—yel low and thick—from earthenware erocks, “Hurry, Mollie, take up the sausage and put the eggs in the skil let, Set the ples on or Johnnie won't know he’s had breakfast; Here he comes, open the door quick, Are you ‘most froze, Johnnie?” “By golly, it is cold, Sue,” He de posited the huge pail, pulled off his frozen gloves, laid them on the stove hearth to thaw and stood breaking bits of ice from his mustache, Scrap ing caked snow from his boots on the edge of the wood-box, he said, “Y’know, I've got an idee if this keeps up we'll have a white Christmas.” “You'd joke if you's gona be hung. You know tomorrow’s Christmas an’ it’'ll spoil everything. Too deep for sleighs now—sh—here comes Ma.” “Ain’t breakfast ready yet?” com plained Ma. Since Mollie and Sue had grown up, Ma—old at forty-five— had donned her lace cap, retired to her chimney corner to smoke her pipe, knit and piece quilts, Her husband had been shot by bushwhackers; her: youngest son had- never come back from war; so she brooded and grieved. Pretending preparations were for their “singin’ school crowd” the young folk had invited her brothers and sis ters to “spend Christmas with her and cheer her up.” “Do you think Uncle Ike,” Mollie began; but, at a kick un der the table, she turned to Ma, “do you think Uncle Ike will ever come back?” “Land sakes, no, whatever put that into your head, child? Who'd leave Californy to come back here an’ freeze to death?” i “Well, I reckon most folks wanta go to Californy some time,” commented John Henry, “but I guess the old farm ain't so bad after all, when the crops js fair an’ that's most ‘generally. They's still plenty o firewood and they's apples an’ turnips an’ ’taters an’ a few other ‘things in the cellar. Bossy an’ Baldy ain't failed us yet an’ they's plenty o' meat in the ‘smoke house, Oranges an’ fresh lettuce is mighty fine, but they don't lay heayy on yer stummick” o ; “Sour grapes,” chided Sue; “You know you'd 'love to go out there an’ see all them. purty flowers an' go swimmin’ at Christmas time an’ never have to go out in the cold to do the chores.” “Danged if I would,” re sponded the loyal one, “the old farm’s good enough for me, Christmas ain't no proper time fer swimmin’, nohow, an' I ain't never been hurt doin’ chores,” kgt Throughout the meal, the youn*tr ple continued their banter; then John Henry followed the girls to the kitch en, “They's tracks around the barn,” he confided; “don’t scare ma, but it might be that half-wit hired man I fired last fall—-up to the Lord knows what! You gals keep to the house an' don't let no stranger in.” Appre hensive of the worst, they promised, Presently the sky cleared. Sunshine and melting snow were making roads more impassable throughout the day, Q ' ! l;“,,“ " ] oßd s 3 ‘, )_ e ¥ Y WA ;'u\»'i‘ e }\\Afii‘h ) f‘Q‘A T A HAN 4 s \l )\ _'} } » ’ %o . fi# \ \ 24 \ 5 ! V/ A \ Lfif} 7 AN - | A\ /” - ! w “Ain't Breakfast Ready Yet?"® Com. plained Ma, . frhat night as they sat around the fire place, a gust of wind ‘overburdened the snow on the roof and a portion slid to the ground with a thud and the rattle of breaking icicles, "The girls screamed. Realizing thelr nervous ness was due to the tracks around the barn, John Henry laughed heartlly, set some apples roasting on the hearth, by way of diversion, and eracked black walnuts on the side of a flat fron, Sue fretted about “all them mince ples:” Ma sald it was a shame they'd killed both turkeys, and Mollie declared she was never “so put out In her life” Suddenly the wind howled angrily. “Golly, Ma, it's gettin' cold again. Bet ' 'l crust the snow over to night” “Like as not," Ma agreed, and the driving wind continued. John Hen ry added a log to the fire and began shelling popeorn. Sue nudged her sis ter, “He means ‘make the popcorn balls' * Mollie began to slng “Al though we cross the ocean blue, no friends we’ll find one-half so true.” John Henry carried a shovel of glowing coals to the kitchen and started a fire. Going to the door he ex amined the gun and set it near. “He don’t like them tracks, Mollie,” Sue confided over the boiling sirup. “I'll bet it is that half-wit.,” Their eyes grew big and round. Early to bed and whistling wind brought restful sleep and with morn ing came sleigh bells, Mollie scratched a peep-hole in the fantastic frost for est on the window pane, “It’s''Uncle Jimmie and- Mary Ann. Meet, ’em quick an’ tell ’em not to let Ma catch on.” “Bet y' we're first ones here,” he began, but Sue cautioned him as he gave her a snowy hug. : By the time Uncle Hiram and Aunt Betsy and their Ethelbert and Aunt Emerine and Hannah had arrived, Ma had begun to surmise; but at the next familiar jingle, she actually arose and peered out the window herself. “Fer the land sakes, if it ain’t Sister Cath erine and Sary Jane and Billy all the way from Pike county. Johnnie, what are you children up to anyhow? Who else is comin’?” “Depends on the weather, Ma. Reck on you've guessed it's your party.” Ma dropped into her chair, speechless, and began puffing vigorously on her pipe. Her eyes told them she was al most happy. By noon they were there, those brothers and sisters and their chil dren, Some had traveled many miles. Of course, they couldn't expect Ike; but he was often in their thoughts and conversation, “Guess Ike's about forgot what Christmas back home ig like,” some one ventured. But Ike had not forgotten. He had long been yearning for a “sight of God's country and some real snow.” As soon as he heard of the reunion he decided to eat turkey back home, Ike had gone out West with the forty niners—hadn’t found much gold; but the city had spread out all over his land and he had “got rich in spite of himself,” Down on the farm the dinner table presented a typical feast of the early eighties, “Turkey’s-: done,- . Where's Johnnie?” said Mary Ann, taking up a hot mince pie. “I'll get 'im.” Ime pulsive Mollie, forgetful of his warn~ ing, ran to the barn. No sooner had .‘h .#v; /Y‘/ //t - B R ‘p‘i /fl,(//‘ 1 z ‘l‘l‘ .\\\\ lil,l & A // g 00 - L ) am- a « | ‘—-I:.‘-(%_—:"&“.;_‘ ’) 4 Wl Vet b= ‘;}_f = (,7 i \ TR In the End All Agreed With the Scotch S Proverb. : she stepped inside than she saw the “half-wit” dash out into the corral She scréamed. A moment later she heard..an 'intensified “gosh” and a scuffle in the frozeén smow. “Grasping ‘& pitchfork, she started to follow when a rough hand caught her and pulled her back. Blindly she fought—like a young tigress—biting and scratching. Through the barn door came John Henry half dragging his victim, “See, you don't need no help,” said the man who held Mollie in his grasp. “Was comin’ but this young wildcat gave me too much to do. Reckon you're John Hernry and this one o Samanthy's gals. I'm your Uncle Ike ~—just dropped in for that Christmas dinner, But that varmint you're draggin' in, you'd oughta finished him.” “You don’t say so! You know who he 1s?” asked John Henry. “Reck on if you'd took a second look you'd a knowed yourself.,” With a loud guffaw, he caught the now reviving young man by the arm and said, “George, meet your affectionate brother and acknowle edge your hearty welcome home.” “Well, I'll be gol dinged! Thank the Lord I didn't have the gun!” Hugging and shaking his brother alternately, John Henry added, “It's sure one on us, Mollie,” He explained how he had been “layin’ fer the barn loft boarder" when he heard her scream and caught the man whom he fully expected to be the “half wit.” Mollie sald she'd “a swore it was him.” After the war George had heard that the family were driven out by Order No, 11, Not knowing where to find them, he went to California hoping to find his uncle and obtain news, His long search ended just as lke con summated his plans for Christmas; so they decided to make the trip together and “glve 'em a big surprise.” Arriv ing aforetime, theéy slept in the hay and spent a day bm&; down by the river, “Our horses W ithe old corn crid,” he eofla& “and here we are—a fine looking pair to present at the banquet table.,” Disheveled they were—but oh, how welcome ! Ma looked twenty years younger. Uncle Ike told his-dreams of remodel. fng the old home; Ma sald she wouldn't have “none o' them new fangled things” in her house. Ike and George finally decided to stay and help harvest the spring wheat. John Henry conceded he might go back with them and pick some oranges off the trees, So; home and California went round the long table. In the end all agreed with the old Scotch proverb, “East or West, home's best™ But many a grandchild heard the tale of the wane derers’ unusual welcome home for Christmas, (@ 1925, Western Newspaper Unlon.) Q% o\ %’ e “*:‘.,.Ls:‘“# G b Q < Lfi", B e & = it o g . A . I - O 2PING \ AR SR },4 PN gfl. 3% /- /il - CAGAIN the bells ring out to & g B The story angels told. gs i The blessed tidings of His ' | birth, ’ That never can grow old. & o Again the world is thrilled and i stirred, 9 With gladness men rejoice, ¥4 And happy thoughts and wishes | |4 | true {3‘ In every heart find voice. Y 2 - W '| With smiling face friend calls [&, to friend | L ,ff,r? A greeting most sincere, " F‘; b And friendship ties and ties ) b of kin % [ ?3' Have grownmorestronganddear. Once more the joy of Christmas } | # . o . .| The hearts and souls-of men, % | Once 'more in Bethlehem’s little : % - town. . .. : & | A Child is born again. . (C), 1928, Western Newspaper Union) ‘ . A | @ & . . s PSR g 4AR i : 2 s/ 9] sucH A 7 % §% LWONDERFUL S 5 )Ry ERFORD /BT o “Hd ¥~ , MORRIS ; B ¢ ' */,// o e _,};f*"/ Y o\ GNES LOWDEN looked from her second-story bedroom window in the downtown district upon a typical Christmas eve scene. The street was aglow with its myriad lights. Snowflakes were flurry ing past as the sharp, crisp December wind blew it fiercely into the faces of hurrying last-minute shoppers whose arms. were laden with mysterious packages. . - “How lovely!” she murmured, and then added, “but ‘what a mockery! So much happiness mingled with dire un happiness. *Oh, God, help me not to lose faith!™ . . Turning to her bed she threw her self upon it face downward and burst Into violent weeping, So this was the disappointing close’. of . the. day/ for which she had so long wilted—the day Rob Roy was to come to claim her as his wife—his Christmas gift. Six months before Agnes had sent him Lo ® away that both P‘-’J & might learn ‘ l" Y through long ! separation if W X each meant to ) the other all that ' ‘.” was needful to & / insure their fu ' N ! ture happiness, . And she had told H!‘,f him to come; Yl MHUl[[| that at tast she b, i l‘;‘ | Xknew her heart's i\’ desire; that on J )‘{ Christmas eve 51 B she would wel- AN come him and go with him to the dppesd very end of the ) €arth. In vain had she listened through the long hours of the day for a telephone call, a telegram, or his ving at the doon, of her boarding house. Nothing qu":nd all this merry-making about b‘&'h mocked Her M her misery. « When Agnes awoke with the dawn of. a. clear Christma®s morning she looked out uponm a far different scene than that which the glowing lights of the night before had presented, The streets seemed deserted, and but for smoke curling wut of chimneys, one might suppose that no one cared enough for the day's celebration to quit comfortable beds to spread the glad tidings But hark! There broke upon the alr clarion notes of eathedral chimes proclaiming to the world the birth of the Christ. The grand old hymn with ite martial = .raln brought to the mind of every listener the glorious wordr : *Joy to the world, t h?nrth rmln‘iuh.kmb:“ " N Agues stood with bowed head until the last note of the lost stanza had died away, struggling hard to grasp the true spirit of the day, though her torn heart was unable to entirely cast aside the bitterness of the great dise appointment she had suffered. A lite tle later, from a near-by church the crowd of early worshipers came pour ing out, and as she looked, came tha thought : “All of those people are happy. With joy they can think of their Lord and King, their loved ones, little tok ens of affection and appreciation to cause their hearts to swell with un bounded joy. But what have I? Only emptiness and hopelessness. Ah, Christ. mas but mocks me with its revelry.” Determining to fly at once to some unknown address where Rob would never find her, Agnes arrayed herself hurriedly for the street. But every minute or two, between garments slipped on, she would draw aside the curtain again for one more searching glance into the street below. At last she pulled her nobby, close-fitting lite tle hat becomingly into place, drew on her gloves, and turned for her coat when the screech of colliding cars di rectly under her window called her back once more, “oOh, some one SN v". is hurt!” she al (] ‘ most screamed, :- . and her nurse's | 1 1‘ instinct to offer G i first aid sent her L& '_ ) rushing pell-mell " ! down the stairs s | end out into the 0 street where a =A7 4 crowd had al i | already gathered ‘ f 422" about a wrecked ’ /1” < A@Vg car, | W Agnes forged o/ e} ahead to the R | side of the ma- LS s chine just as a v taxi arrived to .-r'¢§"' recelve the in- Jured person, “Oh, Agnes, is it really you?" “Rob 1" Without a word of explanation to anyone the frightened but happy girl climbed into the taxi by the side of Rob, forgetful now of everything ex cept getting him to the hospital as quickly as possible for the dressing of wounds which he declared could not be serious. ‘ “Didn’'t quite make It on time, dear,” he sald with his head on her shoul der, “but I was doing my level best. Aund to think this should have hap pened right in front of your house” “And to think I was about to run away from you when that truck struck you, No, I didn't know It was you, but something just made me fiy to the scene and—" “You were watching, Agnes?” “Yes, dear, I was watching, but had glven up hope. I thowght you didn't care; that I had called to you In valn, I was erushed.” “So none of my messages reached you. Too bad! I had to trust them to others. But now that we are to gether, dear, you will not leave me for a single moment, will you, until we are man and wife? “Never! It is going to be such & wonderful Christmas after all, Roby and I had thought It so desolate, “Yea, dear, a wonderiul Christmas|® (@ 1920, Western Newspaper Unlon)