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e A R R T T S
The Plotters
A SERIAL OF EAST AND WEST.
| Elizabeth Betrays Another Se
1 Few Moments A
| By Virginia Terhune Van de
B Water.
'§ (Copyright, 1918, Star Company.)
e CHAPTER XXVI.
‘ ™ LIZABETH WADE was more
;"‘ than usually vivacious at sup
. per that evening, and later
lw the household group sat upon
i "%fld;
' CQilifford Chapin was going away.
‘lJf he guessed the truth about her
| fdentity, thepe was little danger of bis
E | yevealing it to Butler before he left.
{ She had seen him go down to the
erchard this afternoon, had watched
‘| smxiously his return with Butler to
f the farmhouse. But from Butler's
i' nor she was sure that the farm
| #&r's son had divulged to him nothing
P et a startling nature. She had scanned
A two coutenances as the pair
‘reached the veranda. Young Chapin
‘fbad looked rather glum; Butler
| seemed just as usual.
At supper Ciifford had been silent;
hn Butler talkative,
4 [ Well, the girl reflected, no harm had
{ gome of the incident of Douglas’ let-
L'ter. Even if young Chapin had seem
| the address on it, he had not asso
| cia it with her brother. Or, if he
| bad, he was too honorable to make
| mse of knowledge thus acquired.
f is thought moved her to speak
| kindly to this pretentious and conceit
| od son of the house. Perhaps she had
| mistuaged him.
. *You have a long journey ahead of
‘fWou" she remarked. “You will be
N tired by the time you reach
R el
§ “Om, 1 dont know,” with feigned
| Indifference, “traveling doesn't tire
? much. Chicago is not nearly as
| long way off as Wyoming, you know.”
g started, but controlled herself
| "I have never been West at all,” she
[#emarked, “wo 1 know little about the
pes, except by hearsay.”
g 4
| “I famey Mr. Chapin was thinking
of my having come from there,” But
_fler conjectured, looking at the other
man curiously.
i . 8 thing was in the air. Of that
‘Ghe wus sure. He was one of those
| nsit persons who feel a certain
fstmosphere before they detect what is
1. The Air Is Charged.
.£+ Clifford Chapin met his suggestion
i Btolidly. “On the contrary,” he de
ared, “I was not thinking of you at
I even forgot that you came from
fthe West. But had 1 remembered
| that Wade sent you here I would have
pp that your home was where
A
"My home is not at the West,” But
“fler informed him. “TI was out there
: u:tn.l months, but lam an Fast
~ “So Is Wade," Clifford remarked.
L] wondered why this fellow
iWas referring so often to the physi
: # Could he suspect that he, John
. Butler, had been a nervous wreck and
;’ . Wade's patient? ‘
| But of course he could know noth
fog of all this, he reminded himself
(femmsuringly. Nobudy here knew of
M. And, anyway, his lllness and its
Tested Victory Recipes
E ‘“VANITIES,”
e favorites with the children
are easily made os follows: Reat
Well three eggs and add one table
-8 nful each of sugar and cold wa-
BF and a quarter of a teaspoonful
of salt. Stir in flour to make a rath-
BF stiff dough, knead well on the
‘board, divide into four or five por
tions, Take one of these on the board
nd roll it very thin—the thinner thcl
dugh the nmicer will be the vanities.
tear—not cut—off pleces; the
gore irregular in shape the prettier
ey will look when done. Drop them
nto a pan of smoking hot lard and
a delicate brown, turning once.
@ake out and sift powdered sugar over |
"* n. They will be covered with
and present a very pretty ap- ‘
e COCOANUT CAKE,
{One-half pound white rve flour,
k 2 peund sugar, 5 eggs, lemon flavor.
the eggs and sugar together.
add flour. Lay on pan but
red. Put on top some flaked co
janut. Bake in a hot oven,
k&« DGR I
MACAROON.
? e pound sugar, 1 pound almond
AQ;ZI"‘{&- with white of eggs and lay on
“' er. Cook in moderate oven.
. MILANAIS, |
; e-half pound sugar, 1-2 pound
: flo (white rve), 2 eggs, 1 teaspoon
* baking powder.
sugar, flour, egegs, baking pow-
Jder. Let it rest two hours in cool
" ce. Then bake in a hot oven (but
-4 tered pan).
T LADY FINGERS.
4 of 8 eggs, 1-2 pound pow
g @ered sugar, 1-4 pound potato flour, 2
finces of cormstarch, 2 ounces of
ite rye flour, whites of 8 ezgs, well
volks with sugar—work It
d white of eggs beaten like
THEGRORGIANS @
cret, and Clifford Asks for a
Jone With Her.
attendant horrors were all behind him
now,
He looked at RFlizabeth and was
startled by her pallor. Surely noth
ing this man could be saying could
affect her. The very idea that such
could be the case made him indignant
with the farmer's son It was a good
thing that he was going away. The
pair were cousins, but they had little
in ecommon,
A silence had descended upon the
party. Mrs. Chapin broke it.
“Clifford dear, are you taking the
automobile back to the Midland ga
rage tonight?”
“Surely, 1 am,” he replied. “How
else would it and I get in?”
“I didn't think,” his mother apolo
gized. “That was a silly gquestion.
“1 do not think it was at all,” Eliz
abeth sald quickly. “Your son might
be going in with the team, having
Talak drive him, and Mr. Butler might
be going to take the car back tomor
row, or somebody could be coming out
from Midland for it. So your ques
tion was not silly.”
“Do you drive a car? Clifford asked
Butler abruptly, |
“1 have driven my own cars—yes,”
was the reply.
“Then scientifie farming is only an
oceupation on the side,” the other
commented,
“It is what T specialized in at ecol
lege,” Butler informed him. “Why
did you ask about my driving?”’
Another Break.
“Only because 1 was wondering that
any man who could afford to own cars
and that kind of thing should bury
himself in a place like this,” he
growled. “Just as I wonder why my
cousin,”-~pausing before the word,
then emphasizing it strongly-—“with
her talents, should decide to spend the
summer out on a farm among stran
gera.”
“Shut up, CHft™
Amos Chapin meant to utter the
warning softly, but it reached Eliza
beth's ears.
She wag fearful lest Butler had
heard it. She must say something to
ease the situation!
- “T suppose that every girl who has
worked at college all the year is glad
of a chance to rest out in the coun
try,” she hazarded, desperately,
“At college!”
. The exclamation was Cliffordd’s, sivd
Elizabeth realized that in her nerv
ousness and excitement she had ad
mitted that she hiad been at oollege.
Yet nowadays even a girl like Mar
tha Chapin's cousin might go to col
lege.
“Yes!" she answered Clifford's ex
clamation hastily. “You know so lit
tle of your relatives that you are not
‘even sure which of your cousins ig a
college girl. But lam one”
She could feel John Butler turn to
ward her. “l thought as much,” he
observed, “Yet you never told me of
"
Clifford Chapin rose abruptly.
“1 wonder, Lj ~ie,” with forced calm
ness, “it I could have a few minutes’
talk with you?®"
l s
(To Be Continued.)
snow, Then add flour, cornstarch,
etc. Mix well, but lightly, Lay on
layer of paper. Bake in moderate
oven, Half this recipe makes enough
for a large family.
. RECIPES OF |
| (The following valuable information
‘nbout eanning is given out by the New
York Mayor's Committee of Women on
National Defense through its War Food
Bulletin, No. 2.)
1. A safe measure for jelly making
is three parts of sugar to four parts
of juice.
2 Sugar should always be slightly
heated before adding it to fruit.
3. In applying paraflin, pour it over
jams and jellies while it is at the
boiling point. This will prevent mold
and fermentation later,
4. Sterilize glasses in boiling water
before putting the jelly in them.
5. If the tin covers of the glasses
are not in good condition they
should be lacquered before being used
the second time.
The paraffin paper cups now on the
market are excellent for storing jel-l
lies and jams wheie they can be
kept in a cool, dry place. ‘
For Canning.
1. Fruits must be fresh cleaned and
preserved while they are firm, and
before they are over-ripe.
2. Sterilize the jars in boiling wa
ter. Drain them thoroughly, and add
the fruit immediately. Screw the
tops on securely, and turn all the jars
upside down; leave them in this po
sition until you are certain that they
are airtight.
3. The strength of the rubber
bands used on the jars must be care
fully tested by stretching them
slightly: only those in good condi
tion may be wused. It is better to
get new rubbers each season.
4. Jar covers must be perfect; those
with rough edges should be discarded.
5. Small quantities of both vege
tables and fruits are easiest to han
dle at one time, as the results are
apt to be more uniformly good.
Genius Is the Gold in the Mine: Talent Is the Industrious Miner.
‘On MY Street’’
\‘).“ Y/
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N my street. Wonder if my street’s same as yours. Have the
O Babies gone te war on yours? With an old stove pipe on wheels;
a shining drum and horn; the carefully treated flag that creates
a scandlized riot on MY street if the wind happens to tip the tiny
silken thing, or the bigger, cheaper one of cotton—so beautliful just the
same, tip it over on the grass or the roadway; and their mother's mys
teriously vanishing dish-cloths for the holy badge ¢. the Red Cross?
Have you wounded heroes, with black soles to their bare feet?
Have you tiny ones that they wish the thankless posts on? Have you
long conferences where NOBODY wants to be the German? And ‘“‘some-
By Archie Cameron New.
RAFFIC courts are filled dallyl
T with the hosts of those to whom
a policeman’s warning arm
means nothing. But Frieda Schmidt's
outstretched arm seemed to have
some potent influence on those to
whom they pointed. Men paid their
two-dollar fines promptly, without
arrest, and lingered, to gaze devoutly
at her riotous golden mane, and to
~drink in the darts of her dancing blue
eyes. But Frieda, though in uniform,
was not a policeman.
She wore a most becoming white
dress and whist, and over her head
was draped a heavy white veil, with
a red cross on the front of it, and
when she sang out “stop,” she added,
musically, “Buy a Button.” And most
of her vietims bought one, too, and
stood by to hear her thank them,
“both for myselfs and for our brave
boys in the trenches,” as she prettily
phrased it.
And each night as she turned in
her receipts, a crisp sour-faced dow
ager eved her strangely and behind
her back, whispered to her assis
tant.
“l 1 don't see how she does it,” was
the dry comment. “She’s stationed
at that dreadful bhank, where most
of the depositors are of German de
scent. I will have my doubts about
her.”
“And her father's Hugo Schmidt,”
added the assistant, significantly.|
“They tell me he's under suspicion
even if he is naturalized. Why didi
the committee let her work-—none of
the ladies like her. They think she's
doing this weork with some motive.”
“She has friends,” replied the oth
er, savagely. “Mr. Duncan is spon
sor for her.”
It was true that Frieda was not
popular with her co-workers at the
bank. Whom the men adore, the
women oft deplore, and it might have
been Frieda’s evident conquest of the
men that drew to her the shafts of
disapproval from the others. How
ever, they were diplomatic.
“See there,” whispered Miss Gwen
dolyn Wethridge, to the others, as a
depositor passed them and halted in
front of Frieda to let her pin a but
ton on him. “They only patronize
her because she's one of them. Clear
ly he's pro-German.”
Miss Wethridge's remarks seemed
true, for Frieda's latest victim iooked
Teutonic. He was broad and slightly
fat, with a blonde moustache in spite
lop!.- ihcll: youth and ;:d:.y .c‘h-e‘en. But
“'i'm?'h thisd eme she's sold
Buy a Bulton
‘him,” observed one of the others, a|.
bit enviously. “I believe she's carry- |
ing on a flirtation with him.”
~ And had they heard the whispered |
exchange between ,Frieda and her
patron, they might have been further
‘}shocked. |
| “Herr Mohler,” she asked him|
‘sancily, in German. “How are you?”
~ Herr Mohler gave her a strange
look and hesitated a moment, before
replying.
“You—you know my name?’ he|
stammered, surprisedly. “And you—
vou—speak German?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured him, with a
winsome smile, ‘Papa taught me
how. And I know you—well—because
everybody krows you.” She flashed
him a winn'ig smile again. ‘You're
so—so prominent.”
“And your name?" he asked, still
eveing her from head to foot.
“Frieda,” she told him-—a bit bash
fully, he thought. “Frieda Schmidt.”
“Ah!” he exclaimed, his eyes light
ing up. And you-—toc--are German."
“My father was,"' she answered,
evasively.
“And you--you are doing this
work? There was more assertion
than questioning in his tone as he
pointed to her Red Cross costume.
“Phis is a work of mercy,” she
fenced with him, meeting his gaze
squarely. “Only caring for the wound
ed, that's all.”
“So!” he grunted, and then after a
few words turned away to a desk and
Frieda again held out her appealing
paling,
“Buy a button, and be benevolent,”
she sang out, with her lips to the
next man, theugh her eyes followed
Mohler until he left the bank. Then
with a swift movement she darted to
the desk and grasping a blotter stuck
it in the pocket of her dress. Then
she returned to her task, with a new
light in her eye.
“The brazen minx!” muttered Miss}
| Wethridge, who noted the act. “She's
even after a memoir of him.” ‘
“f—l d>n’t believe that at all,” came
the excited answer from the other
{ girl. ‘I believe he's sent her—a secret
| message.”
1 “On!” cried Miss Wethridge. aghast,
'l and the whispered slander spread like
| wildfire among the others. Their sus
, | picious attitude and accusing glances
i now became more marked than ever.
1 Fresh fuel was added each succeed
:‘ln( day for a week. Each day Mohler
pavsed before Frieda's booth and ex
| changed hurried whispers, and then
body’s gotta be!” There is glorious war on my street. 1 watch it and
listen with my heart smiling inside me and I remember with something
that isn’'t a smile, the “Child-Crusaders.”
No little narrow breast is too small a cage for the heart that can
pulse and pain and sing at the sight of the folding, fluttering, rippling,
flag of crimson and white and heaven-blue breaking out to the wind!
The children on my street, the little fat babies and the little long thin
boys, the round dollie-girls and the slim little willow-wand ones, they
“ecarry on.” They carry the flag—eyes up—little hands folded warmly
about the staff, as if it.were the preciousest treasure that ever could be
dreamed into a shape to touch and see—NELL BRINKLEY.
after leaving, Frieda would pocket
some paper from the desk.
And then, one day, she capped the
climax.
“Yes,” she answered him, bashfully,
in reply to his invitation as he pressed
his red face over the booth close to
her own. “I—Tl'd like to go with you.
When—when will you—call?”
“When you get through today,” he
replied, briskly. “At 3.”
At 3 o'clock that afternoon, as Moh
ler handed Miss Schmidt gallantly
into his capacious machine, the other
lgh‘ls exchanged horrified glances.
“She’s either a flirt—or a spy,” was
the unanimous opinion. “And either’s
bad enough.”
And they might have added “pick
pocket” to the indictment, had they
seen Frieda later, when after a heavy
meal and much wine, Mohler fell
asleep in the machine on their way
for a nice long ride, as he expressed
it, with a leer on his thick, sodden
lipa.
For she leaned forward over him,
and extracted several papers from his
pocket. Then she leaned forward to
the driver.
“Quick,” she commanded, in a whis
per. ‘“Headquarters.”
Ten minutes later a bright-eyed,
golden-haired beauty, with a sparkle
in her eye that meant some new vic
tim's downfall, breezed into an office
marked “Hugh Duncan—Assistant U.
8. Marshal” Back of her followed a
man in a chaffeur's uniform, half
dragging, half-shoving a ruddy-faced
yvoung man, manacled, and showing
distinet signs of a scuffle.
“¥Frieda.” exclaimed the youthful of
ficial, happily, as he umped to his
feet and appreached her. “You—d
have—him?"
“Yes,” she answered, and pointed
to Mohler, who glared at them sav
agely. ‘With Stanley’s help. It's a
good thing you detailed Stanley to
engage himself as a chauffeur. He
gave us a tussle”
“So it seems,” Duncan answeredl
briefly; then he ordered Stanley to
take his prisoner out.
Alone with Frieda, Duncan turned
his face away and went to his desk.
He stared out of the window for sev
eral minutes, and now and then his
muscular frame shook from some
strong emotion.
“Er—Hugh,” whispered Frieda soft
ly. “Mr. Duncan, er haven't you—
anyvthing to say to me?”
He turned around slowly and faced
he‘r‘N'o‘t‘llnlin;x "he said slowly. “Except
s o e
to—apologize. 1 had no rkht?—tpo
By NELL BRINKLEY
Copyright, 1918‘,erl;1itceertnatlonal News
think you disloyal. Your name was |
German—and—well, I was wrong. You !
were loyal-——you've more than proven
it. I had no idea when I asked you to
prove it that you'd bag such a big
game. Mohler’s the biggest spy of
all. He's the financial man of the
bunch. How did you—come—to spot
him 7"
She played with her hat and was
lsi)ent; then she raised her eyes to
lhis and smiled-—one of those saucy
‘littla smiles that had sold so many
buttons for the Red Cross.
“I got the idea by accident,” she
told him. “Father was a patron of
the bank, and 1 thought I might sell
Red Cross buttons better there than
anywhere and show, by my success,
how loyal I was. And then—l
thought. It took money to be a spy—
why couldn’t the money be kept there
-—a German institution. You sus
pected Mohler—and you told me so.
So I watched his deposit slips, and
his checks. He wrote them at the
bank and then blotted them. |
“I saved the blotters. Then I took‘
the list of names he made out checks
to, and compared them to his officel
list—his employees. Not one was an
employee. Then I found that code
book which you have in his pocket.”
Tears started to her eyes. “But it
was hard, Hugh; awfully hard. The
girls thought T was a spy, too. They
snubbed me awfully. I didn’'t let on,
but it hurt—their savage looks—day
after day. And then—Mohler took me
out. They thought I was—flirting
with him.”
She daubed a tiny handkerchief at
her tears and did not see Duncan
approach her, but she felt the grip of
his strong, eager arms as he raised
her into his embrace.
“But they won't be able to say
things about you—if you're my wife,™
he whispered. “And I'll give you—
dearest—a good old American name
to fit that precious little American
heart—if you'll take it.”
’ She looked up at him with a happy,
saucy smile on her lips. i
“Won't you buy a but—" ‘
Seizing her in his arms, he closed‘
her sentence effectively—with his lips.
Removing Paint.
Paint spilled is most unsightly and
often difficult to remove. Apply a
strong solution of potash. In a short
time the paint will become soft and
can be washed off with soap and wa
ter. Then use cold water. Paint
which has been left on for some time
will yield to this treatment.
Nights With Uncle Remus
HE colonel was puzzled by the
T route they were taking, He
had heard a good deal of run
away negroes, and had seen some
after they were caught, but he had
always imagined that they went into
deep woods or into the dim swamps
for shelter and safety. But here was
old Shade going poling down the pub
lic road where every passer-by could
see him. Or was the dog at fault?
‘Was it some visiting negro who had
called in to see the negroes at the
home place, and had then gone home
by the road?
While the colonel was nursing
these suspicions, Jelf paused and ran
back toward him. At a low place in
the fence, the dog hesitated and then
flung himeslf over, striking inteo a
footpath. This began to look like
business. The path led to a ravine,
and the ravine must naturally lead to
a swamp. But the path really led
to a spring, and before the colonel
could throw a few rails from the
fence and remount his horse, Jeff had
reached the spring and was clicking
up the hill beyond in the path that
led back to the road.
It appeared that Uncle Shade had
rested at the spring a while, for the
dog went forward more rapidly. The
spring was six miles from the colo
‘nel’s house, and he began to have
grave doubts as to the sagacity of
‘Jefl. What could have possessed old
Shade to run away by this public
route? But if the colonel had doubts,
Jeff had none. He pressed forward
vigorously, splashing through the
streams that crossed the road and
going as rapidly up hill as he went
down.
The colonel’'s horse was a good one,
but the colonel himself was a heavy
weight, and the pace began to tell
on the animal. Nevertheless, the col
onel kept him steadily at his work
Four or five miles farther they went,
and, then Jeff, after casting about for
a while, struck off through an old
sedge field.
Here, at last, there was no room for
doubt, for Jeff no longer had to put
his nose to the ground. The tall sedge
held the scent, and the dog plunged
through it almost as rapidly as if he
had been chasing a rabbit. The colo
nel, in his excitement, cheered the dog
on lustily, and the chase from that
moment went at top speed.
Uncle Shade, moving along on a
) : °
~ Is He a Bandit? |
) LET PARENTS FACE THE TRUTH §
Dr. McKeever Says Every Normal Boy Has Wild Longings,
Which Should Be Given Proper Outlet.
By Dr. William A. McKeever.
(One of the nation’s best-known so
ciolegical writers.)
OUND., In a jail in a Middle
F Western county town, two 16-
year-old boy bandits, who an
swer to the names of Robert and
Jack. Owner can have same by prov
ing property and waiting till the boys
have served a seventeen-year sen
tence in the State Penitentiary for
robbing a bank.
How young and innocent they
seemed as they peered out at us
through the prison bars. Robert
was somewhat downcast, but Jack
was cheerful and appeared to be
proud of the fact that they had got
their pictures in the papers.
The boys had come from a large
Western coast city, they said, and
had spent two weeks beating their
way. They had read of many holda
ups out in this open country and
how.-the bandits usually got away
with their loot.
They had seen a bank robbery in
a movie and one of them had even
gone to see it a second time. They
had talked and plotted robberies
many times with their young pals
back home, and all agreed that it
would be easy if you planned the at
tack carefully beforehand. .
So, these daring young novice?
pulled a gun on the bank clerk,
grabbed $3,000 and beat it for cover.
But their wild career proved short,
for in a very few hours they were
safe in jail. And in the brief period
of three days the judge had pro
nounced the sentence of seventeen
vears, With time out for good be
havior these vouths will be free in
‘about fifteen years, 1933. They will
'be seasbned coal dinners and con
firmed criminals by that time, most
‘pmbably. set against society, perma
nently retardcd in their inetllectual
igmwth and the world of opportunity!
will be forever ciosed before them.,
“How much better if by some turn
of affairs they could have been killed
during the hold-up.” some would say.
But such a view is only another way
of deprecating our inadequate meth
ods of taking care of the youthful
criminal.
I am positive that these boys could
be entirely made over and returned to
society as competent citizens. They
have simply started out in answer to
the Great Call of the Wild which na
ture puts into every normal boy. In
their particular cases there has mere
lv been inadequate management and
guidance, and finally a crisis was
reached.
l ‘What these wayward youths nn‘t of
(‘I-ou < Ssannsns s commnan,
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bluff overlooking Little River, nearly
a mile away, heard it and paused tq
listen. He thought he knew the voices
of man and dog, but he was not
so he lifted a hand to his m'm
frowned as he listened. There eould
be no doubt about it. He was caught,
He looked all around the horizon and
up at the glittering sky. There wag
no way of escape., So he took hig
bundle from the end of his cane;
dropped it at the foot of a huge hick«<
ory tree and sat down.
Presently Jeff came in sight, run<
ning like a quarter-horse. Uncld
Shade thought if he could manage ta
kill the dog there would still be a
chance for him. His master was not
in sight, and it would be an easy mat
ter to slip down the bluff and so es-,
cape. But, no; the dog was not to be
trapped. His training and instinct
kept him out of the oid negro’s reach.
Jeff made a mide circle around Uncle
Shade and finally stopped and bayed
him, standing far out of harm'’s way.
The old negro took off his hat, fold«
ed it once and placed it between his
head and the tree as a sort of cushion.
And then the colonel came galloping
up, his horse in a lather of sweat.
He drew rein and confronted Uncle
Shade, For a moment he knew not
what to say. It seems as though his
anger choked him; and yet it was not
so. He was nonplussed. Here before
him was the object of his pursuit, the
irritating cause of his heated and hur
ried jou.ney. There was in the spec
tacle that which drcve the anger out
of his heart and the color out of his
face. Here he saw the very essence
and incarnation of helplessness—an
old man grown gray and well-nigh
decrepit in the service of the family,
who had wignessed the very beginning
and birth, as it were, of the family
fortune.
~ What was to be done with him?
Here in the forest that was almost a
wilderness, the spirit of justice threat
j ened to step forth from some conven
jent covert and take possession of the
case. But the master had inherited
obstinacy, and pride had added to the
store Anger returned to her throne.
b_v( Q?\gwégg:hrlyss(ifor}\%?r'xylzsgst?n\?y 1.? ééi
Chandler Harris; 1911 by Esther Laßose
Harris. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Printed by permission of and by special
arrangements with Houghton, Mifflin
‘Company.)
(To Be Concluded Monday.)
all need is the genuine sympathy and
good will of us all. Second, they need
a constructive, far-seeing plan for
their re-education. A year of the
training now being given in ou¥
army, with the addition of a consid
erable regular schooling and voca
tional guidance, would bring most
encouraging results. But the basio
physical training should be mog
complete, v
But the point to be made em
phatic here is, if you want to make
certain that your boy will avoid the
wild and dare-devil career inherent in
the natures of all normal youths, be
gin early to build up his physique.
De¢ not waste his time and yours mere
ly with croquet or tennis or ping
pong and imagine such soft stuff to
be physical development, when it is
only pleasant amusement.
Get him a garden, a wood pile or
a work shop—something that will
make him sweat and will harden his
muscles. Make him earn every cent
he geis and see that he gets a plen
ty through honest work. Make him
start a bank account. Teach him
how to spend, to save, to give his own
money. Make him hate graft and
something for nothing.
- Not one boy in a thousand but
‘wouid follow about the same crimi
nal road as the two young bandits it
‘he had suffered from their careless
training. Not one boy in a thou
sand but can be cured of the wrong
tendency if taken early and given the
ccurse which is here suggested.
A A e AP P
i Household Hintsi
|
Not all people spray potato late
comers. One should, though, for these
varieties, since they remain longer in
the earth, are subject to potato dis
ease. The Burgundy mixture is best
and simplest to use, and (remember
this) choose a dry day for spraying.
In rainy weather the good results may
be literaily wa.s.heci av.va.y.
To eliminate stains from a leather
bag apply the white of an egg, let it
dry in the sun and then rub it off. A
paste made of dry mustard, potato meal
and two spoonfuls of spirits of turpen=
tine applied to the spot and rubbed off
dry will also be found to answer tng
purpose.
- - -
If you simmer sausages for about tew
minutes before frying them you will find
them very much nicer than when sim
ply fried.
- - -
Mashed potatoes mixed with a littlg
essenceotbeexorfichgme.mama
excellent substitute for butter,