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Color and Economy
In This Jiffy
Pattern 6040.
A jiffy crochet with large hook
and Germantown wool—it takes
about half the wool needed for a
regular afghani And a lovely
fluffy afghan you’ll have. Pattern
8040 contains directions for mak¬
ing afghan; illustration of it and
of stitches; materials required;
color schemes.
To obtain this pattern, send 15
cents in stamps or coins (coins
preferred) to The Sewing Circle,
Household Arts Dept., 259 W. 14th
Street, New York, N. Y.
Please write your name, ad¬
dress and pattern number plainly.
'Tavotite Recipe
of the IVeel'^'
DATE CAKE
& package of date* 1 teaspoon soda
Pit dates and cut in quarters;
place in a large teacup, or small
bowl. Add soda. Cover with boil¬
ing water.
1 cup sugar 1% cups flour
>/« cup butter l /a package dates
2 eggs 1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking % cup water
powder 1 cup black walnut*
Cream sugar and butter, and
add 2 egg yolks. Alternately add
flour and date and soda mixture
which has been slightly beaten.
Fold in 2 stiffly beaten egg whites
and % cup broken black walnut
meats. Spread in a shallow bak¬
ing pan about 10 by 15 inches and
bake in moderate oven 40 min¬
utes.
While cake is baking, pit re¬
maining one-half package of dates
and cut up. Add % cup water and
1 cup sugar. Cook in saucepan
until a thick consistency has been
obtained. Spread over hot baked
cake and sprinkle with Vi cup
broken black walnut meats. Re¬
turn to warm oven, turn off heat,
and allow to stand until cold.
Serve plain, or top each individ¬
ual piece with sweetened whipped
cream and cherry.
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DADE COUNTY TIMES: THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1938
HEART’S
HERITAGE
© Joseph McCord WNU Service.
CHAPTER XIII—Continued
—14—
"Did this Kelsey question you
about your mother?” Farwell asked.
“Then it’s something about my
mother.”
“About all of us, Dale. Our day
of reckoning. Hearts of men are
as nothing . . . The old familiar
fervor touched his voice. Vanished.
“Souls are in the balance now.
Souls, I say. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“When I left the seminary, I sup¬
plied the pulpit of our church in a
small Oregon town. Middleton. It
was your mother’s home from child¬
hood. Her father was dead. Some
of this you know. Elaine and your
grandmother were alone.”
“You have told me that.” A re¬
spectful impatience marked the
words.
“And I have tried to have you
know Elaine. As she was then—
very young and very beautiful.
Scarcely more than a child. Frag¬
ile. I am wondering if I can make
you understand what I was. How
bleak my early life had been. Those
harsh experiences softened only by
my faith in God. It drove me. I
was zealous, intolerant. I fancied
myself another Saint Paul called
to persecute. Before these past few
days, I doubt if you could have un¬
derstood how I came to love Elaine.
Or rather, how she could have loved
6uch a man as myself.”
Dale’s thoughts had turned swift¬
ly to Lee. “I know,” he said sim¬
ply.
“I think you do now. And I did
love her. It was the same fierce¬
ness that characterized my every
desire. I brushed aside her every
doubt. I was convinced our union
was desired by God. And I forced
her to see it, although . . . She
was promised to another, Dale. The
man’s name was Kelsey. Wade Kel¬
sey.
“I told you I never had seen this
man. I believe that is true. He
meant nothing to me, save that he
stood in the way of an ordained
plan. I recall that he was an engi¬
neer then. Stationed in Middleton.
Elaine consented to our marriage
when I was given my first regular
appointment. I took her out of the
only home she ever had known.
Hundreds of miles away. Among
strangers.”
“But she was happy,” Dale inter¬
jected defensively. Again it was
Lee.
“Some flowers do not bear trans¬
planting. I may not spare myself,
if you are to understand. I bruised
her with my relentless efforts.
Elaine tried—pitifully. God knows.
So do I, now. She wanted to con¬
form to my pattern of life. The
tragedy I failed of all her. was my And own blind¬
ness. she never
knew ...”
“What are you trying to say?”
The boyish voice could not conceal
its anguish.
“That I saw when it was too late.
How lonely and frightened she must
have been. I was obliged to leave
home for a few days. I told Elaine
that I would expect her to conduct
the weekly prayer service. It
seemed a trivial thing. She shrank
from the idea in terror. I would
not listen. It was the simple duty
of a pastor’s wife. I chided her
for want of faith—for giving way
to her nerves. It was the culmina¬
tion for her. Everything must have
toppled ...”
“What did my mother do?” Dale’s
fingers slowly relaxed their hold.
His hand fell to the bed.
« “She was gone when I came
home. There was a note. She had
failed me, so she said. My life and
work were all that mattered. She
was doing it for me. Me.”
“Go on.”
“Even then, I did not believe the
truth. I went to your grandmother’s
at once. I kept telling myself Elaine
would be there. That a moment of
panic had driven her home. Mrs.
Cameron could tell me nothing. We
searched. Oh, yes, we searched.
Days dragged by. Months. I nev¬
er saw her again.”
“You mean she . . . Kelsey.”
Dale forced the words from his stiff
lips. v
“Wait.” Farwell lifted a hand in
weary protest. “You must let me
tell you as I can. I paid for it with
my soul. It is a dreadful thing for
a man to lose his soul, Dale. My
conscience drove me out of my
church and away from my God. The
conviction that I was to preach was
inborn. There was my father—his
father. I threw all that aside and
lived because I was afraid to die.
I worked with my brain and my
hands, trying to forget. I failed in
everything. A Cain now. Always
in flight.”
Dale sat motionless, listening.
Someone passed the house, whis¬
tling carelessly. A hollow thump
against the front door. The eve¬
ning paper from the city. And here
in this upper room the world had
come to a standstill
Jonathan Farwell’s voice again,
pitched in that unbearable mono¬
tone.
“It was in the fall of 1914 that a
solution came to me. Thousands
were meeting death in the war. I
crossed into Canada and enlisted
with a contingent training for over¬
seas. I had no intention of com¬
ing back.
“There is not much more. I was
in battle many times. I wanted to
be among those I saw falling on
every hand, but God would not let
me join their company. And some¬
where in all that ruck of blood and
filth I ... I found my soul. I owe
it to Pink.”
“So he knows," Dale muttered.
“Yes, he knows everything. When
death walks with men by day and
night, all human values shrink. Men
know each other for what they are.
I may not tell you of Pink. Save
that his small body shelters a heart
whose equal I never have found in
another. You are to believe that.
Some day, you will realize my debt
there.”
Farwell rose to his feet with
seeming difficulty and moved to the
table where he stood supporting his
weight on his hands.
“When I returned from France I
knew that my only salvation was in
a life devoted once more to the
church. I sought out ...”
“No!” There was a ring of des¬
peration in Dale’s voice. He left
“That’s a tough one,” Mulgrew admitted morosely.
the bed in his turn, to stand at
Farwell’s back. “Let’s get this
done. Where—where did you find
me?”
“Your grandmother was caring
for you.”
“My mother . . .”
“Had found rest, Dale. She left
you to me. Kelsey brought her
home.” Jonathan Farwell faced
about with an effort. His head came
up as he met Dale’s gaze unflinch¬
ingly. “Say what you will. We are
men.”
“I am trying to make myself
think of you,” Dale said slowly. “I
want to remember all that you have
done for me. Everything is gone
now.”
“Don’t say that. I do not wish
you to think of me. I killed the
one great love of my life. Lived in
the hell from which I have warned
others. There was but one possi¬
ble atonement. Can’t you see that?
You are all that I have left of
Elaine. Your life is all ahead of
you.”
“Yes. A nobody.” Dale choked
on the word. “And you’ve let me
go on and on.”
“I thought perhaps God was giv¬
ing me a chance. I always was
fearful of this day. But years
passed. Nothing came out of the
void. I might have known. God
never forgets.”
“But you would have!” Dale ex¬
claimed harshly. “Can’t you see
what you’ve let me do to—to some¬
body? I can take it. But Lee.” He
made an effort to control himself.
“I think there is only one thing I
would ever like to know from you.”
Dale’s voice was curiously calm.
“You have let me live a lie. Why
did you try so hard to make me
believe that my mother . ."He
could not finish it.
“Because your mother was good,
Dale. The sin was mine. Never
hers. Wait—where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
Dale flung himself out of the
study. The door closed behind him
with a crash. A few strides took
him into his own room where he
paused, looking about with a va¬
cant stare as if he had found him¬
self in a strange place.
His eyes fell upon the picture of
his mother hanging in the chimney
niche. Very slowly he approached
the one-time shrine, detached the
photograph from the wall, held it
clenched in his two hands. A sud¬
den wrench and the frame was
pulled apart. Its glass fell and
shattered on the bare floor boards.
Dale took one lingering look at
the portrait, lifted it and held it for
The fact that music is a cultural
force of great potency has been ac¬
cepted for many centuries by every
nation. Recently, however, music
has been acknowledged by physi¬
cians as a therapeutic agent of con¬
siderable importance, accomplish¬
ing a curative effect where medi¬
cine and science have failed. The¬
ories as to its healing value have
been advanced from time to time,
but recently a definite statement to
that effect, based on experiments,
was made by the Federal Music
project of New York, writes Alice
Eversman in the Washington Star.
For three years the Federal Music
project has been holding classes in
two prisons for women and in seven
hospitals, where over 6,500 people
were subjected to a musical “treat¬
ment,” and the results studied and
classified.
As yet the experiments have not
led to a positive formula for treat¬
ment, but the results have been suf¬
ficiently gratifying for further plan¬
ning along this line. What hat,
been definitely established is that
participation in music activity by
problem cases and underprivileged
children has benefited them phys¬
an instant against
gently he laid it on the shelf. He
left the room, walking quietly. This
time, he sought the rear stairway.
“Kid! Wait a minute.”
There was Pink, barring the out¬
er door of the kitchen with his small
frame. Deep shadows filled the
room.
“Get out of the way.”
“Don’t be like that, kid. I know.
Where you goin’?”
“Anywhere.”
Pink followed Dale as far as the
back porch and watched him hurry
swiftly through the dusk. He made
his way back into the darkened
house with a heavy heart. Then he
stepped into the parlor and listened
attentively. From overhead came
the sound of footfalls pacing back
and forth.
An hour later Pink was in the
kitchen adjusting his tie before a
small mirror. He had changed into
his checked suit and the ceremonial
derby was on the back of his head.
“I ain’t a-goin’ to get thanked
none for this, either,” he muttered
to his reflection.
Lee Brady sat alone in the swing
that hung in a shadowy corner of
the front porch. When her vigil
was rewarded by the sound of ap¬
proaching steps from the street, she
hurried forward with a low word of
greeting—halted in confusion. A
small man stood below her, hat in
hand.
“Oh . . . Mr. Mulgrew. Won’t
you come up? I was expecting Dale.
Is—did he send me a message?”
“No’m, he didn’t.” Pink ascended
the steps and glanced about uncer¬
tainly. “I want to talk to you a
minute. You see, Miss Lee, I don’t
know you so very good. But you al¬
ways struck me as bein’ pretty
square. Of course, I’m wise to you
and the kid. I’m the first one he
spilled it to. You’re pretty strong
for him, too. I’m wondering just
how much you’d do for him if he
was in a jam.”
“Is Dale in trouble? Oh, please
tell me what it is, Pink!”
“ ’Fraid he is. The kid’s goin’
to try and kill me when he finds I
come here. But somebody’s got to
do somethin’ for him and you’re the
only one I know who can bring
him around.”
“You can tell me, Pink. There is
nothing in the world I wouldn’t do
for Dale.”
“Well then . . . Miss Lee, I’m a
lot older’n you. It’s a queer world
Healing Value of Music
by Tests Held
Established
Federal Auspices
ically and morally. More than any¬
thing else, music serves to free
self-concentration, to distract the
mind from too much inward center¬
ing and to arouse the finer reaction
such as politeness, better behavior
and care of personal appearance.
As the effect of music continues, *.n
entire change in the attitude toward
life and in conduct has been ob¬
served.
It has also been found that listen¬
ing to music is not sufficient and
many times serves only to increase
the difficulties, since it does not
draw on the mental processes of
the patients, although its quieting
effect on the nervous system i$ con¬
siderable. But performing music is
a decided stimulus for good, bring¬
ing the afflicted ones out of their
absorbtion with self and substituting
a more spiritual occupation, which
benefits the physical well-being. Ex¬
periments have been tried on the
children of the psychiatric ward of
Bellevue hospital, in the reforma¬
tories, among cripples and children
of low mentality. The result in each
case has proven that music can
reach and heal where other metb*
ods have failed.
CLASSIFIED
DEPARTMENT
FARMS FOR SALT?
sal tsfJSsA.’smjs Bockm®^ n -..«« ^; «
Wood, water. Ivy Wrlyht. 0
Smart New Fashions
For Fall and Winter
DOTH these dresses are so
P rett y and so simple that you
will want to make them up sev¬
eral times, in different colors And
with such beautifully simple de¬
signs, whose whole charm is a
matter of line, you can use col¬
ors as colors gay as you please, now that
gay are smart, and they
look so pretty in the fall. If you’ve
never done much sewing, here’s a
fine chance to find out what a sat¬
isfaction it is to make yourself
something. These designs are so
easy to do.
A Charming School Dress.
This is a classic style in which
growing girls always look pretty.
The snug waist 'and flaring skirt
are so becoming, and just grown
up enough to delight them! In
wool crepe, cashmere, gingham or
jersey, with fresh white collar and
sleeve bands, it will be your
daughter’s favorite school frock.
Make one version of it in plaid.
Scallop-Trimmed Day Frock.
You should certainly have sev¬
eral dresses made like this—it fits
so beautifully and looks so smart.
Darts at the waistline give it be¬
coming slimness. The high square
neckline and “shrugged shoulder”
sleeves are very new. It’s the
useful kind of dress you can wear
for shopping and business as well
as around the house. Make it up
in silk crepe, flannel, sheer wool
or home-keeping cottons.
The Patterns.
1454 is designed for sizes 8, 10,
12, 14 and 16 years. Size 10 re¬
quires 2% yards of 39-inch mate¬
rial without nap. Collar and cuffl
in contrast require % yard.
1576 is designed for sizes 34, 36,
38, 40, 42, 44 and 46. Size 36 re¬
quires 4 yards of 39-inch material.
Fall and Winter Fashion Book.
The new 32-page Fall and Win¬
ter Pattern Book which shows pho¬
tographs of the dresses being
worn is now out. (One pattern and
the Fall and Winter Pattern Book
—25 cents.) You can order the
book separately for 15 cents.
Send your order to The Sewing
Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1020,
211 W. Wacker Dr., Chicago, 111.
Price of patterns, 15 cents (in
coins) each.
© Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service.
Wise and Otherwise
—A—
Some people are good for
nothing. Others, alas, get noth¬
ing out of being good.
Easy street is a sleepy street.
It takes a man who’s a
straight shooter to make a hit
with the misses.
Scientists say that round-shoul¬ prehistoric
man was never to
dered. He had no taxes
carry. girl
It’s a good idea to get a *
number before giving her a
ring. she
A woman always thinks
is better than other women. A
man hopes he’s no worse than
other men.
HANDY Verne Uic) JAM s<\
MOROLINE IT I PETROLEUM JEU> I0« and
SNOW-WHITE
any way you want to at
Did you ever stop to figure that
when a guy climbs through the
ropes, he—well, he don’t have such
a hell of a lot to say about it. He
goes to his corner and waits for
the gong. Sometimes, just some¬
times, I say, the match is fixed
ahead of time. Wonder if you get
that ...”
“You mean,” Lee hazarded in a
low voice, “that something hap¬
pened to Dale. Something that
wasn’t his fault at all.”
“Yeah. His bout was fixed. That’s
it.”
“I ... I think I know what you’re
trying to tell me, Pink,” Lee said
after a little. “I’m thinking of Dale
Nothing else matters.”
“You meat it, Miss Lee? You
mean you stick by what you said—
about doin’ anything for the kid?”
“Yes, Pink. Anything."
“Gawd! Excuse me, Miss Lee.
You’re actin’ awful white about it.
I know what sent the kid down
fdr the count today. He was think-
in’ about you. What it was goin’
to do to you. I know that, same as
if he’d told me."
“What can we do, Pink? You and
I?” Lee asked soberly.
“That’s a tough one,” Mulgrew
admitted morosely. “I can’t drag
the dominie into this so much. You
see, he told me the whole thing a
long time ago. You gotta take my
word for it he had his reasons for
never tellin’ the kid. Until today
. . . You see—well the kid is tellin’
the dominie all about his new job.
When he gets around to sayin’ the
name of the boss ...”
“Never mind, Pink. I can guess.”
“You’re one ahead of me all the
time. Can you beat that one? Twen¬
ty years and never a word of the
guy. And then right out of a clear
sky, like I said. Worse’n a story
book.”
“Where is Dale?”
“Can’t say for sure. He walked
out. I tried to stop him. It woulda
meant a fight. I didn’t have the
heart to smear him. Maybe I
should, at that.”
“But suppose he doesn’t come
back! Pink, he told me all about
his mother. I know as well as you
do what this is doing to him. We
must help him! We must find him!
And you don’t know where he is
>>
“Maybe I don’t. But it don’t stop
me from havin’ a good guess. If
you say you want him, I’ll dig him
up. That’s a promise, Miss Xee.”
“Oh, is it, Pink? I’U wait. Until
tomorrow. You won’t fail me!”
"Not a chance. Not a chance.”
CHAPTER XIV
Dale pushed on.
His torturing reflections did not
drive him as far afield as Pink
suspected. He made his way out
over a road that passed a woodland
patch not far from the town limit.
It was dark among the trees. Grate¬
fully dark. There was nearness of
rain in the unseasonable warmth.
Dale vaulted a fence and stum¬
bled through the crackling under¬
brush, heedless of briars that
caught and tore at his knees in
passing. When he found himself in
a small clearing, safe from the
prying gleam of hurrying car
lamps, he flung himself to the
ground under a tree.
Alone at last with his seething
thoughts.
So far, there had been only the
wild urge to escape. From every¬
thing. Everybody. A vague real¬
ization that he must give battle to
life, reach a decision of sort. But
his brain refused to function. He
crouched alone in a mad upside-
down world. Hands clenched in an¬
guish. Host to a stormy panorama
of distorted images.
(TO BE CONTINUED)