The Bismarck Tribune Newspaper, August 9, 1930, Page 4

4 THE BISMARCK TRIBUNE, SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, 1930 The Bismarck Tribu.e An Independent Newspaper THE STATE'S OLDEST NEWSPAPER (Established 1873) Published by the Bismarck Tribune Company, Bis- marck, N. D., and entered at the postoffice -t Bismarck as second class mail matter. © te ceceeeceeecees President and Publisher Subscription Rates Payable in Advance Daily by carrier per year ..... nee Daily by mail per year (iu Bismarck) Daily by mail per year in state, outside Bismarck) . Daily by mail, outside of North Dakota ‘Weekly by mail, in state, per year . Weekly by mail, in state, three years foi Weekly by mail, outside of North Dakoti Weekly by mail in Canada, per yea: Member Audit Bureau of Circulation Member of The Associated Press The Associated Press is exclusively entitled to the use for republication of all news dispatches credited to it or not otherwise credited in this newspaper and also the tocal news of spontaneous origin published herein. All rights of republication of all other matter herein are also reserved. (Official City State and County Newspaper Foreign Representatives SMALL SPENCER & LEVINGS (Incorporated) Formerly G. Logan Payne Co. CHICAGO NEW YORK BOSTON The Strain of a Championship Bismarck golf enthusiasts were happy Friday to learn that Paul Cook had been successful in defending his state amateur links championship and that the title will re- main here another year. They were pleased but not surprised at the manner in which Paul kept grimly at his task in the face of hard luck and when it seemed improbable that he would win. The significant thing about it all is that Bismarck’s prize golfer displayed a fine competitive spirit, unflinch- ing nerve and seJf-control remarkable in a man of his few years. . Few persons who have missed the experience of play- ing in one or who know little of the game of golf, can appreciate the nervous strain which a major tournament imposes. On Monday there were the two 18-hole qualifying rounds to determine the relative ranking of the contend- ers. Thirty-two were assigned to the championship flight, the rest to other classifications. Then came two match-play rounds on Tuesday fol- lowed by qnother on Wednesday and two more in the semifinal matches on Thursday. Both Cook and Bill Fowler, his opponent in the final contest, played those rounds with the full realization that defeat meant their elimination. They had to win or get out. Then came the grueling test of the final match on Friday, thirty-six holes of a game which makes a real test of the nerve and moral fiber. Captains of industry and men noted for their coolness and self-control have been known to “blow up” under the strain of competition on the golf course. What makes Cook's feat in winning a well-deserved victory all the more remarkable is that he fought an up- hill battle ail the way. Not until the final stages of the contest did he have the advantage. And then he capital- ized it to win the final victory. It took nerve to keep plugging away when he was the under dog and it speaks as well for Paul Cook, one of Bismarck'’s fine young men, as it does for Paul Cook, Bismarck’s finest golfer, that he was able to win against such competition and under such drcumstances. Almost the same thing may be said for Fowler. If it ales nerve and stick-to-it-iveness to keep plugging away when one is behind, it takes almost as much nerve and self-control to keep one’s self in hand when he is ahead of a persistent and dangerous opponent. Cook and Fowler are youngsters of whom Bismarck pastures where clear streams were flowing, they joined caravans, Human contact made life worth while. It made the joy of accomplishment sweeter. No wonder the hermit can find small pleasure in his lonely games of solitaire. It isn’t fun to beat yourself. It is a queer mind which imposes on itself a solitude which, with almost no other exception, would be consid- ered a punishment. A happy man doesn’t run away from life. He stays on the job. He realizes that he is going to be the same wherever he is. Therefore, he tries to cultivate a place of no trespassing in his heart where he may go for relaxa- tion. Most of us would bore ourselves too quickly, anyway. if we withdrew from the world. Hardenberg doesn't seem to be getting a great deal of enjoyment out of his experiment, either. Perhaps that is his trouble. The American Peerage Admiral Byrd, Gene Tunney, Henry Ford, his son Hdsel | and other celebrities again this year are not in the Social Register, the bluest of all blue books, which fists Ameri- ca’s “peerage.” The omissions are disclosed in an article in the Ameri- can Magazine, which points cut the difficulty of “crash- ing” the Register. The Hoovers, the Coolidges and the Lindberghs are given places. Thomas Edison is in but Charles M. Schwab is not. Only one actor, Antonio Moreno, has been able to make the Bkie Book through marriage. Moreno was accepted when he married Mrs. J. M. Damsiger. Lindbergh went in automatically when he married Anne Morrow. On the contrary, the article continues, when Gene ‘Tun- ney married Polly Lauder, related to the late Andrew Carnegie, his name did not get into the book and that of his wife was taken out. Those not familiar with Social Register procedure thought Gene had won the distinc- tion of being ‘the first professional boxer ever to pass the committee on admissions. Instead his name appcared only in one of the supplements which records the mar- riages of all persons it lists. Dorothy Benjamin's name was promptly dropped when she married Enrico Caruso. Katherine C. Harris was dropped *when she became Mrs. John Barrymore and went on the stage. It was restored only after her divorce from Barrymore ang subsequent remarriage to Alexander D. B. Pratt. The present Social Register came into being in 1888 with the list that originally was known as the “Four Hundred.” Mrs. Charles A. Minton compiled the roster of eligible families in New York because in the turmoil of residential deevlopment, she was sure to have their ad- dresses at hand. Louis Keller first saw the possibilities of retaining the exclusiveness of the publication, but despite limitations the “Four Hundred” is now replaced by some 15,000 New York families, New York, however, stands only eighth, per capita, in the total list of American cities. Washington stands highest with 24 registered families per 1,000. New York has only 10 families per 1,000. Applications for inclusion in the book are passed upon by a highly secret committee, supposed to consist of about 12 men and women. Chicago, Washington and Boston are credited with 3,000 families each; Philadelphia 5,000; San Francisco and Baltimore 2,500 each; Pittsburgh and St. Louis 2,000; Buffalo and Cleveland 1,200 and Cincin- nati 1,500. Only 41,000 families out of nearly 4,000,000 in ————_—_—_——____—_+ tg Today Is the | The Pit and the Pendulum! | | Anniversary of aioe ibs tever)./ FRANCIS KEY’S BIRTH On Aug. 9, 1870, Francis Scot: Key, noted in American letters as the au- thor of “The Star Spangled Banner,” was born in Frederick county, Mary- land. Key, who was Uistrict attoruey of the District of Columbia, Washing- ton, visited the flagship of the British fleet, which was then attacking Bal- timore, to obtain the release of a friend who was a prisoner of war. detained for fear that, if allowed to land, they would reveal the British plans. While daylight lasted, the men watched the flag. When dawn re- vealed it still foating above the fort they knew the British attack -had failed. It was then that Key with- This was granted, but the two were! and on its back wrote the first stanza of the Staf Spangled Banner. He finished the poem later in the day when his vessel had been allowed to |land. ; It was first printed as a handbill inclosed in a fancy border. One of Key's friends, Judge Nicholson, of Baltimore, saw that the tune |“Anacreon in Heaven,” an old Eng- jlish drinking song, fitted the words, ‘and the two were quickly united. The song became instantly popular, and is now universally regarded as the na~ jtional anthem. BARBS sere cr ra ea ee cee Time was when city folk flocked jto the parks to escape the heat; now| you'll find them in refrigerated movie houses. | |g@—_-_ ———_____ | i those cities are represented in the book. Thirteen cities recently have stopped subscribing to| the Soclal Register, many of them claiming that their ' best families are so firmly established that there is no necessity for cataloguing them. These include Provi dence, St. Paul, Minneapolis, Detroit, Seattle, Portland, Los Angeles, Pasadena, Richmond, Va., Charleston, S. C. Savannah, Atlanta and New Orleans. Fourteen cities are still represented in the Register. i | A man living in Woolwich, England, has made his own | coffin and sleeps in it to be'sure it fits. There's a fellow who likes his bier. and Fargo and the state of North Dakota may well be proud. That they are star golfers isn’t half so important as that they are fine, clean young men, representative of the best type of North Dakota's young citizenship. Naturally, Bismarck hails its returning champion, but it also has admiration for the Fargo youth who was a true sportsman in defeat and whose ability proved second only to that of Bismarck’s star. Amateur Television More than 100,000 experimenters in America who now Bo in for radio will be the ones to popularize long-dis- tance televisicn, predicts Dr. E. F. W. Alexanderson, noted electrical engineer and inventor, according to an article in Boys’ Life. re America will soon see a wave of activity in amateur television, declares the article. The radio amateurs have been starved of real interest in radio for the past few years due to the commercialism of broadcasting, and will soon be ready to stimulate interest in television just as they created an interest in broadcasting back in 1920 and 1921. Boys experimenting at amateur workbenches in the attics and cellars of their homes have solved the Problems that baffled scientists, believes the inventor. The Runaway from Life There are some things that are beyond human wnder- standing. How a healthy, normal man could seclude himself on a tiny island for 22 years is one of them. Most of us have an urge, now and then, to escape from our cares. To go adventuring, gathering the rag-tag ends of romance, and stretching our souls. But we do it mere- ly because we need a tonic to strengthen our exhilaration for the tasks and the human contacts that make our lives. Life goes stale if it doesn’t give us a problem or two to solve. But now comes the story of Charles Hardenberg, who is living a hermits life on Little Watts Island, no larger than an average city lot, in Chesapeake bay. He grew tired of the world, so he ran away. He had been a successful lawyer, owner of one of the largest libraries in New Jersey. But he didn't take a single book with him. He seldom reads a newspaper. He has all the time in the world, but he never troubles to make a garden. He doesn't live. He exists. Across the bay the world has changed since he left it, ‘Tall buildings have gone skyward. Automobiles have gained speed. Airships have winged their way close to the stars, and men have gone down to the sea in ships in more than cne war. Hardenberg has heard the faint ring of steel, the echo ef martial music, and let them drift past his island home. Hardenberg is bored. Small wonder, we would say. Saas A ae a | OIE ee | Editorial Comment | Quack—Quack (Duluth Herald) i A rogue’s gallery of medical quacks has been compiled | by the New York city health department. There are} 25,000 names in this list, an unenviable Roll of Infamy. Each quack has allotted to him an individual folder, con- his biography, photograph, crimes committed, mannef and method of his quackery, and lamentations of victims, The compilers are very proud of their work and think it will be useful in limiting quackery. ‘Quacks usually specialize in a particular drug or ap- Pliance, and sell that as a universal cure-all. Oc- one of them will sell a bottle of colored water that neither helps nor harms. Some quacks have preten- tious offices, with maids in costume, while others get no higher than a soap box at a cross-roads. Love of money must be strong in a man who t-' -3 to! quackery. A thug is a philanthropist compared to him. But love of money is only one of his vices and not the worst. The quack has no regard for human life. He will fake at the bedside of the desperately sick, and for a pal- try dollar’ pretend to knowledge he knows he does not have, and give treatments and alleged cure-ails that may hasten death. How many have perished miserably under the treatment of quacks! It must be said that the quack is not a newcomer. He has been active in all ages and among all peoples, The most learned medical men of Greece and Rome with their lists of specifics, would be regarded as quacks to- ‘day, and that is what they would be. But the modern medical man, basing his course on real learning and intelligent experience, has no time for quackery. The fact that luminous ssionce has no power to travel very far beyond the limitations of life makes room for the quacs who promise what they cannot do, preying on the credulous and badly informed. What scoundrels quacks are! They play with death and take money from frenzied 1.2pe and misery. Society is organizing against the quacks in medicine, in business, in politics and in other lines. Preserving the Indian Sign Language (Minneapolis Tribune) Major General Hugh Lennox Scott, known as “the grand old man of the army,” has been commissioned by congress to make a permanez: record of the Indian sign language in talking pictures. He is coming west soon to do it and the west will open its arms to him, in fact and in the sign language, with an old-fashioned western wel- come. Only those familiar with the Indian sign language know low important it was in western development or the wide possibilities of its interpretation. In it im- portant treaties were negotiated and there wes a time when it was almost the universal language in which negotiations of all kinds from barter to diplomatic ulti- matum were conducted between red rian “1 white, It was simplicity itself, yet it covered as wide - range as any language. Interpreted by a master it was filled with beautiful imagery. To his interest in its charm Major General Scott probably owes the fact that by American Indians he is probably the country’s best loved white man. In his Western caMmpaigr~ ‘1 his active days as an army officer General Scott had singular discernment There is no one to whom he can boast if he catches a 10-pound fish. Therefore, he doesn’t care what he pulls im. He isn’t affected by the proposed two-and-one-half- cent postage rate. He doesn’t care who is up and who is down in the Wall Street game of seesaw. He has no inducement to see how long he can sit in a tree, for nobody would know it, anyway. He Probably doesn’t know that Lindbergh has a son. ‘The light of the stars and the songs of the wind have Jost their magic for him. He has seen them too un- brokenly, without a background of appreciation. And he has seen them alone. He needs companionship, interests, a challenge to spur him on. Nearly every accomplishment in life has come because someone wanted to prove his worth to others. We were meant to live in groups and work in groups. and human sympathy. He knew and understood the Indian probiem. He was one of the most merciful men ever engaged in a merciless task. His honesty won him the confidence of every tribe west of the Mis- souri river. He was equally at home by the campfire of an Apache in the Red desert or the Icdte c*° > Sioux chief on the international bordcr. To all of them he was known as “The-Man-Who-Never-Lies.” In his campaigns in Montana and the Dakotas he made his Crow scouts a corps of diplomats whose ef- fort was devoted to peace by negotiation rather than by wile or force. ‘The task given General Scott is one for which no other man is better fitted. It is important that a record of the once common language of white mon and red “an in the west be preserved. The west faces east at the news that “the grand old man of the army” is coming back to the old campaign grounds. He is 76. The west holds its right hand high with palm outstretched before it, Indian and whiie man. JUDITH GRANT, loves ALAN STEY. who fa alxo loved by Y ith’s best Steyne dintruxte—to star her show, mnd_ appears backed by RICHARD WYO. ix seeretly acting for Chummy sees Judith in Steyne’s arms and breaks her engagem: without lett! she has fo Judith mak on the stage and becomes tamous. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XXXI UDY paid a visit to her old home town on the first Sunday in De- comber. She was-anxious to see if she could find any living relatives ot her mother, who had been a na- tive of the thriving town. She was 80 overflowing with generous spirit that she could not find enough peo- Ple to share her success. She had come across one elderly and very impecunious couple The husband was a distant cousin of her mother, and he had been a scene shifter at the theater until he injured his spine. They lived on a very scanty pension. Judy was in despair because of their scanty means; but she made them take money, and she had a splendid dinner sent in from a hotel. She sat with them and de- lighted them with her high spirits and her laughter and her account of her wonderful life, which to them was like a fairy. tale. She went for a walk when she left them. She had a little while before the train left for New York. She walked on until she came to the end of a street, and then climbed a steep path that led up to the grassy hills above the town. eee ND, to her amazement, whom should she meet but Alan Steyne, striding briskly along, look- ing a little thinner in the face, and Perhaps not quite so exuberantly fit, but still splendidly young and alert and full of life: They stopped simultaneously, a few paces from each other. “You have been ill,” Judy said. “Nothing to speak of,” he replied. “A bout of influenza, short and sharp. The doctor sent me here to recuperate, The air is gorgeous!” He looked at her with the hunger that be could not keep out of his , lovely,” Judy said. “I—I ought to congratulate yo: ne went on, “You are wonder- “How do you know?” “I was there on the first night.” “Whet did youthink of it?” Judy's voice was a mere thread. A “I adored it, Judy, and—I hated cee, She laughed at his vehemence:| though her heart stood still, Steyne came a step or two nearer, In nomadic days, when shepherds took their flocks to | Thus it honors a well loved veteran. Florida sand fly. Who do mean, Capone? *** & The farmers seem ready to ack- nowledge that the fellow who wrote “it ain’t goin’ to rain no-more” was somewhat of a seer. s* Judging from the fate of Mexican presidents, the Mexican congsess is said to be considerably flattered now that one of its members has been assassinated. they x * *& When “the British ambassador to the United States added to his liquor supplies here, he was criticized by a public-spirited citizen for showihg “contempt for the laws of our na- tion.” But the ambassador's actions, by most standards, were 100 per cent American. (Copyright, 1930, NEA Service, Inc.) Dib Williams, now playing shortstop Congress, a news item says, has/for the Athletics, played last season drew an old letter from his pocket; appropriated $18.000 to eradicate the} with Little Rock. By ‘AUTH All questions Large, ‘Wete on a Dr. McCoy’s menus suggested for bh beginning Sunday, August 10th: Sunday Breakfast—French omelet, crisp bacon, waffle (browned through), stewed raisins. Lunch—Melon, as much as desired. Dinner—Broiled chicken or rabbit, baked ground beets, salad of grated carrots on lettuce, *berry ice cream. Monday Breakfast—Coddled eggs, Melba toast, stewed prunes. Lunch—Large glass of tomato juice. Dinner—Casserole of mutton, string beans, celery and ripe olives, apricot whip. Tuesday Breakfast—Cantaloupe, toasted breakfast food with cream (no sugar). Lunch—Combination salad, glass of milk. Dinner— Celery soup, Salisbury steak, asparagus, salad of crisp raw spinach leaves, chilled avocado cream. ‘Wednesday Breakfast—Poached egg on Melba -| toast, applesauce. Lunch—Fresh fruit, all of one kind desired. 4 Dinner—Baked white fish, summer squash, beets, salad of tomatoes, baked pears. ‘Thursday Breakfast—Ham broiled with slices of pineapple, Melba toast. Lunch—Buttered okra, corn on the cob, shredded lettuce. Dinner—Cream of spinach soup, roast veal, small green peas, salad molded in gelatin (string beans, car- rots and celery), baked apple a la mode. Friday “ Breakfast—Cottage cheese, sliced tomatoes. Lunch—Cantaloupe, or one kind of fresh fruit. Dinner—Broiled filet of sole, stewed tomatoes, artichokes, combination salad, Jello or Jell-well. " Saturday Breakfast—Coddled eggs, whole- wheat muffins, stewed figs. Lunch—Generous dish of ice cream, with fresh peaches. Dinner—Roast beef, carrots roasted with meat, spinach, turnip salad, pineapple snow. . *Berry ice cream: Measure into a dish half the contents of an envelope of plain gelatin and add two or three tablespoonfuls of cold water to soften. Wash and drain a box of any kind of berries in season, such as raspberries, loganberries, blackberries, etc., crush thoroughly and mix with a half pint of cream. Into another bowl pour a pie OY BNGT “Judy, you know that Clarissa and I—"" He broke off. Judy nodded. “Judy,” he went on, “it may seem low and -caddish, but I can’t help it—” She backed away from him. “You're not going to say any- thing—plcase!” “Judy, I must. Clarissa doesn’t want to marry me.” “That isn’t true. Clarissa loves you just as much as ever. She couldn’t change. She's not that} kind.” * “Then what does it mean?” “She's found out.” “What?” “About—about you and me.” “How? It's impossible!” “I don’t know how, but she has, I’ve secn it. I know her inside out. She’s found out. and so she’s told you that she won’t marry you; but she’s utterly miserable—she's break- ing her heart. You must make her think it isn't true. You must marry her.” Thus Judy, in her uncompromis- ing way, showed the denser male! mind what her feminine intuition had divined from her friend's con- duct. Alan still struggled against the truth. “I think you're wrong. Clarissa is the soul of truth. She couldn’t carry out such a deception.” “She deceived you,” said Judy ac- cusingly; “but she didn’t deceive me.” “Do you mean you won't admit that she knows her own mind? You won't marry me, Judy?” ‘ UDY stamped her foot on the springy turf. “I won't have Chummy’s heart broken,” she said. “I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on the earth!” Steyne gazed at Judy with in- credulity in his eyes. Any one who was much with him of late must have noticed how seldom his eyes were filled with laughter now. by CHELSEA HOUSE, She told him about her new con- tract. She was to leave in Febra- ary for Paris, All summer she would be in Scandinavia, where the public was very fond of her kind of dancing. At least, Mr. Tannary had told her so. “Judy,” said Alan, as she was putting on her gloves, “if at the end of the year Clarissa is still of the same mind, will you change yours?” She shook her head, mecting his desperate eyes with every appear- ance of calm determination. “No, no—nothing will make me change. I knew Chummy. I dare say she will be what you call ‘of the same mind,’ next year and in 10 years’ time.” “Then what could I do, anyhow?” “You can persuade her that she’s wrong, and that you do care for her.” eee TEYNE groaned. | “You are utterly impossible, | Judy! How can I do that? I can’t; Dumont met Judy in the street. She believe you mezn to be so cruel. I|even looked different, he thought won't believe it!” savagely. She was still made up, “You must he said. “I'm not cruel, It’s you. We've said goodby once and for all, and you shouldn't try to make me unhappy.” “Judy, I want to make you happy?” he eried passionately. “You can make me happy by marrying Chummy and making her happy.” A flush of anger mounted to the young man’s forehead. “You say that over and over again, like a parrot!” Her temper rose, too. | “I say it because I mean it, and you don’t seem to be able to under- stand it.” She got up. Steyne followed her, and at the hotel door she held out her hand. “Goodby.” He did not offer to accompany her to the station. He was still weak from his illness. Her presence was a torture greater than he could “You cannot mean it,” he said. “I do mean it,” she answered. His direct masculine intelligence would not take it in. To him the fact that Clarissa did not wish to marry him was sufficient. It seemed nothing short of madness to probe into her motives. And—this was @ more cogent argument still—if Clarissa really did know that he and Judy loved each other, then she must realize that he and she could never be happy together if they were to marry. . Judy assented to Steyne’s sugges- tion that they should walk a little way together. Then they returned to the town, and he asked her to have tea with him. They sat in a corner of the lounge of his hotel, which was a very quiet one. He asked Judy to tell him about her new life. He showed evident satisfaction when she told him that, outside of her work, she was living just as she had lived before. bear, “I shall go out to the East with Hylton,” he said sullenly, like a sulky boy. “He asked -me to go with him. I'm not going to stay in this country. At least I shall set some sport.” Judy was too wisa to raise any objection or to offer further advice. “I hope you'll have a good time,” she said, with the straight, friend- ly kind of glance that she gave Dumont. It was a marvelous piece of acting. “But I dare say you'll want to come back before long.” “I'l come back when, you call me,” he said. She was a little frightened by his eyes. They showed his whole manhood in revolt. She suddenly felt very.small and helpless. The consciousness rose in her that she could not resist him, if he chose to assert his will. She had no more time. She hailed \a passing cab and took her seat in OUD CORALIE STANTON and HEATH HOSKEN Alan’s face, showing his recent {ll- ness in every line, with his gloomy eyes regarding her reproachfully. “I must make him believe it,” she said to herself. “I've got to do that for Chummy’s sake!” Sree month passed in a whirl for Judy. She suddenly changed all her habits. She bought clothes. She developed a taste for late hours and gayety. She was always with Bruce Gidecn. It came to the l&st night of her appearance at the Monopole Thea- ter. It was a veritable triumph. Judy stood ankle-deep in flowers of every hue, bowing and kissing her hands, the tears streaming down her face whilo her lips laughed in the delirium of such a moment. Afterward there was a‘great supper party in Gideon’s apartment, but none of Judy's old friends were asked to it. In the second week in January, but there was more art in it. She was ever so smart, a clever dress- maker having managed to subdue her desire for brilliant, color. A look from her candid eyes re- duced him from anger to despair. He was her slave as ever. She was still Judy, after all. “Judy, there is a dance at the Lemon Grove on Friday,” he said eagerly. “It’s a regular artists’ night. Will you come?” She seemed to hesitate for a mo- ment; then her face broke into the old radiant smile of sheer childlike happiness. “Ot course I’d love to, Bastien! How nice of you to ask me! I-ove dancing with you.” 4 The more he looked at her, the more poignant grew. the longing that could never be fulfilled. Judy with something unapproachable about her—with dainty white gloves on her hands, and high- heeled suede shoes on her perfect feet,‘and real silk stockings, and a little coat of moleskfh fur with a big skunk collar! He left her with a heavy heart. What hurt Judy most was that she never saw Chummy now. It was to a large extent Chummy’s fault, for the latter was engrossed in her work. She had refused one or two invitations to have a meal alone with Judy. Then, when they did meet by accident, Chummy reported that Alan was thinking of going to Persia with Frank Hylton. “I think it will do him good,” she said in her quiet way. “He doesn’t really seem to care for painting.” “A man’s got to have some job in life,” Judy replied. “I think Mr. Steyne had better find one. Nowadays a young man can’t hang about doing nothing.” Chummy looked at her in aston- ishment. it. The last thing she saw was (To Be Continued) '_ HERES TO YOUR 2r FRANIC, NSCOY tons regarding stamped, one side of paper only. Letters must not exceed words Address Dr. Frank McCoy, care of this paper. ao! ALITA OF “THE FAST Way TO HEALTH” Health anowered. enclosed. ond be self addressed envelope must be , pint | ough! whole milk into which thor- mix a of ly half cupful of honey. and add to the berry mixture. Next, Dr. McCoy will gladly answer Personal questions on health and diet addressed to him, care of The Tribune. Enclose a stamped addressed envelope for reply. - | add the gelatin which has been dis- solved over hot water. Stir all to- gether, pour into freezer and freeze until of the.desired consistency. The amount makes one quart. ; Other fruits may be used in place | of the berries, such as figs, peaches, | pineapple or avocado, the proportion of honey used varying with the fruit used. When using a fresh acid fruit, such as fresh peaches, do not use the ice cream as a dessert, but as a meal, itself. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Swollen Eyelids Question: Mrs. T. D. asks: “What causes such swelling of the eyelids that upon looking up, folds of skin hang over?” Answer: Swelling of the eyelids often accompanies such diseases as nephritis, anemia, diabetes, trichi- niasis or angioneurotic edema. Of course, there may be some local con- dition such as urticaria, erysipelas, etc. You carmsee by this that a care- ful physical examination would be necessary to determine the exact cause. Ruptures in Children Question: Mrs. C. F. writes: “My little boy will be four years old in ber. Five months ago I dis- covered @ lump in his right groin. I had a surgeon examine him last week and he said it was a definite rupture. Will you please advise me what to do, as I do not want him to have an oper- ation if it can be avoided. He feels no pain whatever and it seems to cause him no trouble at all.” s Answer: It would be unwise tor me to attempt to advise you witnout having examined your child. Get the opinion of two or more physicians where you live and rely upon their judgment. I have known many cases to be cured by putting on a proper support and reducing the gas pressure inside the abdomen by using a suit- able diet. Ruptures sometimes heal up perfectly, but in case this method will not work, surgery is the only other step, and it is not such a dangerous one ii performed by an ex- Perienced surgeon, and if the case is Properly treated afterwards. Milk and Catarrh Question: A. L. P. writes: “We would appreciate your advising us through your column if you consider & 10-day orange juice fast, followed by an exclusive milk diet, a cure for nasal catarrh.” Answer: The orange juice fast should bring about excellent results, but should be followed by a diet com- paratively free from starch, sugar or milk. While milk is an excellent food, its use shquld be carefully re- stricted by all those with a catarrhal tendency. (Copyright, 1930, by The Bell 8 » Inc.) ere aaa y | Quotations | POR tae ani “A man who does not love praise is not a full man.”—Henry Ward Beecher. eek “Vanity is essentially the sign of a shallow personality.”—Dr. William A. ‘White. * ee “Films are mental chewing gum to the public that pays for them.”—Eric Von Stroheim. nee “If I only had one sermon to preach it would be a sermon against pride.” —Gilbert K. Chesterton. * Keak “Art and life ougit to be hurriedly remarried and brought to live to- gether."—Hugh Walpole. se Now that insect proof garments have been designed, the next war Ought not be so hard on the boys in the trenches. DEBUNKS ASTROLOGY Boston.—To test the powers of astrology Dr. Walter Franklin Prince, research officer of the Boston Society for Psychic Research, sent.a letter re- questing information to six different astrologers. To the questions answered in the letters the astrologers all read- ily replied—but with such a wide dif- ference of opinion that the answers were useless. ‘ IRELAND PREPARES Dublin.—Already Ireland is prepar- ing for the: Eucharistic Congress which will be held here in 1932. A committee is making a house-to-house canvass to see how many guests each householder can accommodate when the congress gets under way. All parks are to be made into huge tented dormitories, and new beds are being ordered by thousands. FLAPPER FANNY SAYS: A horse is a’ man’s best friend until | he bets on it. ey . » . » o re