Evening Star Newspaper, September 3, 1928, Page 26

THE EVENING STAR. WASHINGTON. D. €. MONDAY. SEPTEMBER 3. 1928 ° WE'LL GIVE YOoU 1ET THAT MAT O #(00 To KEEP \T OPELIKA, BANBOOZLE ME ANY LONGER AL. THERE GOES ONE OF THE NMAIN SPRINGS OF SOUTH NORMWALK, CONN, WHY DONT YoU SPEAK TO Hirt ABUT PUTTING THAT STATUE OF YOUR WIRE THE CHEERFUL CHERUB - - oday [ steod upon a hil BY THORNTON . BURGE IVE HAD THE 1DEA OF PRESENTING THIS FLORIOUS WORK To T CITY OF Soum NORWALK ' OF COURSE TREASURY AINT SO RULL JusT AT | PRESENT How ABouT A HUNDRED BUCKY TO SHIP & BEAUTIFUL MARBLE STATUE WEIGHING 42 Tons AND STANDING 30 BEDTIME STORIES Changes Whitefoot's Plans. li long to get over there. TNl show you The meadow folk are early taught That safety be their foremost thought ~Old Mother Nature. Peter Rabbit and Whitefoot the Wood Mouse hiad spent. all day and part of the night before in a certain bramble- | tangle in the Green Forest. It was near the edge of the Green Forest. ‘They had felt fairly safe there. Never- thel they were two frightened little people. You see. they had not vet re- covered from the fright given them by the family of Yowler the Bobeat “Yes, sir,” said Peter Rabbit, “I've had enough of the Green Forest. When 1 get back to the dear Old Briar-patch T'm going to stay there.” “T wish,” said Whitefoot, “that wasn't so far to the dear Old Briar- the way. All you need do is to follow | |And grve the wind ) 1N SOUTH, NORWALK | THE EXPENSE OF FEET HiaH ALL | dear Old Briar-patch your worries will | A song O Q]!Q,. Sorme day when [ am | | blve perhaps | |The wind will my white tail and when we reach the | ¢ be at an end.” | Bl ‘Perhaps,” said Whitefoot. “Mrs, Peter won't like me for a neighbor.” | She will be delighted to have vou | for a neighbor.” declared Peter. “Yes, E 3 e iam s | | DrADg L % || where is Mrs. Whitefoot?” 1 | bach to me. | “Mrs. Whitefoot wouldn't come with | [y piakd | me when T left home.” replied White- | | ~ foot. “She was more afraid to travel | than to stay there. T thought if T| 1 DIDVA SEE THIS WERE K could find a safer place Y \ ™ papeEe £ By Pop MOMAND Mm! 1 could go | back and get her.” | The long day passed. The Black Shadows came creeping through the Green Forest. By this time Peter's courage had returned. “It's time to go. Whitefoot.” said he. “Now vou follow me and don't vou lose sight of my white tail Peter led the way out of the bram- ble-tangle to the edge of the Green Meadows. It was lighter out there. Peter sat up and looked this way and looked that way and looked the other way. Behind them it was quite dark In front of them it was just dusk Here we g0.” said Peter. and started off lipperty-lipperty-lip. quite forgetting | COME. ON TRY TO & cLARD | that Tittle” Whitefoot couldn't keep up. *1 WISH." SAID WHITEFOOT. “THAT IT WASN'T SO FAR TO THE DEAR OLD BRIAR-PATCH." patch. 1t is all very well for you t eross the Green Meadows. but it & another thing altogether for me. 1 should be frightened to death every foot of the way.” “But your cousin. Danny lives right out there said Peter “True enough, true enough. Peter replied Whitefoot, “but Cousin Danny knows all those little paths through the grass. I am not used to living in grass. He knows every little hiding- place. I don’t know any of them “Well.” replied Peter. Meadow in the it won't. take Whitefoot started but his little heart was going_pit-a-pat. pit-a-pat, pit-a- pat. In almost no time at all he lost | sight of Peter’s white tail. but he found 2 little path through the grass which led hum in the right direction. It was ane of the private little paths that his cousin, Danny Meadow Mouse. had made. Along this Whitefoot ran for a short distance. but the farther he got from the Green Forest the more fright- ened he became He stopped. He couldn’t make up his mind whether to | 20 on or to go back. There he sat. his little heart going pit-A-pat. pit-a-pat pit-a-pat. Suddenly he felt terribly | lonesome. He looked up at the sky. | Something that seemed like A moving shadow passed not very high above the | tops of the grasses. For just a second Whitefoot's little heart stopped going pit-a-pat: then it beat faster than ever. | The Pen Is Mightier Than the Stork. NDER MY BE GlAD To €T A Be WORK OF ART Syt A | | PAaGoMMED | OUTRAGE L lnrs PLOM® \ | ISCANDELOVS 1 CALLS o ! ™ SHPPING WiLL BE %00 ? QUITE AN (TEF, BUT THEN YOUR CHAMBER ifoF comtErce wouLD CONTRIBOTE SOMETHING NO DOUBT! HOW A THE WAY TO Soum ME AR SA THAS: 0EAD =N 1 N /’ GOT WIS NAME v finy TH LOST, FOUND | [AND DEATH (OL/0M _NOW! , \WHAT GOVNA L DO NBouT WIT v ™ ceam | 1 7N WE'LL TELLY THET EOITOR | A THING (/v WE W e W |owe wmauo Avo PINTING [ boE 1 {Jo8 tovs \ That was Spooky the Screech Owl.” seid Whitefoot under his breath. “T'm | going_straight back to the Green For- est. Yes sir. Tam." And that was just what Whitefoot did a little later Spooky had caused him to change hic mind TR B . HERESKI To sTupy || A BUEST S 1028 1 avs: Abe Martin S | \ Ther's 50 much taet an' delicacy used in handlin’ major plitical issues these days that a feller haint even inspired t' vote, much lest suggest 2 torehlight procession. He who hesitates iz honked. Reaer;;gcd§: ) Old Gaffer Doldrum has six sons. ‘who live on farms, some miles apart; he | ! she is not stuck up about it like some | the dough help me Pete. Why keep my money ! £ill I die? They're needing capital to. €ay, to plant new fields of oats and rve, machines for baling hay. 1 will hard earned hoard, to please sons and help them out: and each , at his groaning board. will welcome no doubt. While I survive turn with Alexander, John Absalom and Steve and | exgaggaes Alexander tor a while, he's greeted a sullen frown. and finds no wel- come, and no smile. And when he camps with Kern and John. he seems to | be a nuisance there: they seem to wish he would begone, and grudge him bunkI and bill of fare. They've had the oid | ' stack, there's nothing : 50 when he calls at any shack, no cordial smile can he de- No doubt the son: are heartless skates, but they are human, more or Jess; and countless old men meet such fates, and spend their age in bleak distress. 1! Gaffer Doidrum had re- tained his bundle as he should have! @done, he would not now be grieved and ;\.ned by any grim, cold-blooded son t all the boys would strive to show | how much they honored their old dad. | and if to visit them he'd go, they all would be exceeding glad He s a chump who gives away his substance ere it's time 10 quit: he dies, and on that fateful day his wili 15 sure to make a hit WALT MASON THE TIMID SOUL. [CasTvaTaaT | v vpime s ol me 1 w1 parit! it & |over it mite be diffrent, ReMeMBER €ConNOMICOUITEH v THAT - / CONDITIONS 1N o NYOUR COUNTRY. - M : YES, SeFEsKkr, e | [BREAT, wWAN] RUSSIAN || AND wHiLe GOVERNMENTOVITCH || YOURE HERE BY SenT Me oveR || YOU GOTTABE BUD FISHER LITTLE BENNY { 1 wrote a letter to Mary Watkins to- day. saying in it. Dear Mary. Although vou proberly dont care personly weath- er T ever come back agen or not. T feel it i« my polite duty to tell vou that we expect o start home tomorrow on account of my fathers vacation being up and ue all being on it Puds Simkins wrote and told me how vou left the posteard 1 sent you on your frunt steps wile you went around with him for a fce cream cone and if there had of bin a little bit more wind it | would of blew off your steps and went | all around the streets for anybody to Ivan Ashcanski of Russia Visits the United States. ||nose © T TWRAT'S THAT |[THAT'S FY NEIGHBOR MUT | PLAYING A SAXOPHONE. TERRIBLE | He \HEAFSKI O‘P 2/ Twe HouRS: AS A RULE HE SELDOM £ CAN'T Go TO© SLEEPSKY WITH | THAT BeZo MUTTSKL PLAYING THE SAXO s OUITCH 7 AXO PHANE OV 2y | A urrie of I THAT AOISE 'LL QUT iN ABouT [ 1S LAYS AFTER Two | AMaL TS } MIDANGHT Ao \......T_.__/ HARE, MUSTA BEEX AN TYPDERAPHI CAL ERROR - ™M KINDA “~\30RRY BOUT/ | N et i RE 1 CAN) SOUARE PUTTING IS NAME T 8Y N TR mRTH OLYOM AN GIIN, N L o START SO0 I'M GONNA | TOSS THIS ) BOMBSKI THROUGH | THE wWINDOW kot | \NTO HIS LAPSK \ o.K.‘( e KD, Now\ You'Re TALKINGS read that wunted to. Now if you think thats any way to treat a private postcard 1 must admit | T think diffrent, and if you ever sent me a postcard 1 wouldent go around | showing it to perfeck strangers like | Puds Simkins in the ferst place even | it it ony cost a cent, wich it proberly | would, but mine cost a nickel not | counting the stamp. ] There is a lot of bewty looking gerls L here in the country with perfeck com- ‘1‘ plexions on_ account of being nllurdl\‘l pritty besides being out in w0 much | By open air. especially one with a few, freckels on her nose making her even| KENKLING prettier. 1If she had a lot spred all but she ony | has 5 small size ones bocause 1 counted them with her permission, proving she | must be a pritty good frend of mine. | Her father is the sheriff and arrests| everybody that has to be arrested. but | The Day ' gerls would be of Rest! Wen I get home Im going tn send her | a postal ecard one of the ferst things but she wont leeve it laying aroune | loose because she’s not that kind of a gerl. Wats more she sed she wouldent Yours respectivly Benny Potts exquire. | WHERE'S The | 1S ON THE Fl Willie Willis RY ROBERY QUILLEN 1 | CA to Speak. l H That new boy brags about bein’ rich an’ havin' two automobiles, an’ he ain't even got & dog.” s o o — To SETTLE O\, A BF T, WHEN WAS ©F L1 BROTHER _BORNED? e Extra Payment. WELL DICK, 1M GLAD N YOU SAME To CHURCH ‘10030 THIS MORNING ‘Rbbal & By - ALBERTINE RANDALL {*y b The Right Path for Dumbunny ! 7 SIDE OF THIS SHED=| ! You PLAY OVER 1T OR 1 You CAN PLAY A ROM OFF THE KITCHEN OTRER 91920 11v | HOPE YOU ARt IN WILL You KINDLY | TAKE YouR FooT | OFF My BALL | So 1 CAN PLAY 1T .7 | R e W e Evan DEAR READERS " You CAN'T BLAME WINDY ! WHY WORK WHEN THE CALENDAR SAYS NOT To ? THis 1S LABOR PRY | | b lllige | o | WIS SUNSET )i - ¥ 1 IS A NICE LITTLE L'\' 1 DoNT KNow GOLF LAYOUT, |.¢|1PAVENT SEEN | ISN'T 1T ? @ ANY OF 1T YET | £ G| / yr‘u::t\gk b’M! - THANKSGIVIN', Then THE PIANO CAME , THEN THE NN / \ PR CAME , THEN THE BARY, THEN THE ¥ 'm::M':?g‘/ ! > 4 DO Yol KNOW WHLRE | L RABBITS 0O WHO Fion | ON SUNDAY ? | R WALKING | THE RIGHT PATH ! — BURE . PARSON POPENE | COME ONY LE'S HUNT \Fm THE \WORMS '