Refugio Timely Remarks (Refugio, Tex.), Vol. 14, No. 42, Ed. 1 Thursday, August 13, 1942 Page: 3 of 8
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REFUGIO TIMELY REMARKS
Page Three
“Buyin’ diamonds for your girl friend down the Basin?”
about that. It tied up, he recalled,
THE STORY SO FAR: Just when it
looks as though Norland Airways is
through, Cruger Bnds a “scientist”
named Frayne, who offers to pay well to
be flown to the Anawotto, a river in
Canada’s barren North Country, where
he hopes to find the breeding ground of
the trumpeter swan. This good news
helps to soften the blow when Cruger has
to tell his partner and ace flyer, Alan
Slade, that his application for overseas
service with the army air corps has been
turned down. Slade explains that he
signed up because he thought they would
lose the business. Cruger says he has
bought a new Lockheed that will keep
them going for a while. He and Alan
are discussing their new client, who is
apparently not inexperienced, having re-
cently returned from an expedition to
the Himalayas.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER II
“What was this man Frayne after
in the Himalayas?” Slade asked.
“The Great Tibetan Sheep. Kar-
nell, he explained, was his shikari
on both occasions. But Karnell
doesn’t count. All he does, appar-
ently, is supply the brawn. It’s our
man of science who supplies the
brain in that outfit.”
“Wasn’t your nature-lover shoot-
ing wide of the mark when he went
looking for sheep in winter? It’s in
spring and summer sheep come
down, anywhere. Every hunter
knows that.”
Cruger’s chair-shift was one of
impatience.
“Don’t worry about your passen-
gers. Your business, Lindy, is fly-
ing. And if you feel that dreamy-
eyed ornithologist is after gold, like
all the rest of them, you’ll think
along another line when you’ve seen
him. He’s different. And before
summer’s over, you may be sure,
he’ll be calling for supplies."
“Should he go in there to starve?”
questioned Slade.
“He won’t starve,” retorted the
other. “He’s well heeled, his pa-
pers are in order, and the Royal
Mounted have okayed his excursion.
He’s carrying a lot of equipment.”
Cruger’s glance went to the win-
dow. “They’ll be bringing over their
stuff from the terminal any time
now.”
“Themselves?”
Cruger nodded.
“It’s too precious, apparently, for
our port boys to handle. Before sun-
down they’ll be stowing it aboard
your ship, and when they do you’d
better stand by and check up on
their kit.”
“Why?”
Cruger shrugged.
“Well, let’s say it’s to make sure
he doesn’t give you an over-load.”
Slade rebuttoned his flyer’s coat.
“I’H be back from McMurray in
two hours,” he proclaimed. “And
I’ll check and double-check on that
swan-stalker.”
Cruger glanced up at the route
map on the wall.
“An early start tomorrow should
give you light for landing. It won’t
be easy flying, remember.”
“I’ll fly baby elephants to the
Pole,” Slade announced, “if it’s go-
ing to keep this outfit on its feet.”
Cruger’s quiet smile was that of
a man with a trump card still in
his hand.
“But the important point,” he pur-
sued, “is that you’re not the only
one who didn’t get to the Front this
throw.” He paused for a moment as
though to give timing to a mes-
sage too important to be lightly ut-
tered. “I thought you’d like to know
that Doctor Morlock’s daughter
didn’t swing in with that Red Cross
unit.
Slade turned away and looked at
the wall map. It was taking time,
apparently, for information so un-
expected to be absorbed.
“How do you know that?” Slade
demanded with just a trace of a
tremor in his voice.
The older man’s half-smile was
quickly smothered.
“It came from Morlock himself.
He’d the offer of a chair in medi-
cine at the University of Manitoba
and that girl of his was set on him
getting out of frontier-life flying. I
guess she felt he’d weaken if she
stepped out and went over-seas. But
the old boy stuck to his guns. He
said he was needed in the North
and would die with his boots on.
And that meant only one thing for a
girl like that. It meant she had to
stick to her dad.”
Even Cruger could smile a little
at the newer light that crept into
the Viking eyes.
“So she’s not going to England,”
Slade repeated.
“No, she’s flying to Coronation
with her father tomorrow,” Cruger
said, as he picked up the envelope.
Slade’s glance remained preoccu-
pied. He had the look of a tired
swimmer who had unexpectedly
found solid ground under his feet.
Even the sunlight outside, when he
swung open the door, seemed a lit-
tle brighter. For there wasn’t, after
all, to be a wide Atlantic between
him and Lynn Morlock.
He drew a deep breath and turned
back to Cruger.
“You’re right about this outfit,”
he said. “We’re going to keep her
going.”
He swung the door shut on Cru-
ger’s smile.
Alan Slade, jolting over the three-
mile trail between McMurray and
Waterways, sat back in Cassie
Olin’s taxi and let the road and Cas-
sie do their worst. But Cassie, he
saw, knew how to handle her dust-
covered old jallopy, probably the
most northerly taxicab, omitting
Alaska, on the continent. For Cas-
sie, who had driven an Arctic dog
team in ‘her time, was both stal-
wart of body and resolute of spirit.
“Where’ll I be droppin’ you?”
asked Cassie, as they rolled into
the town’s wooden-fronted main
street.
“At Dillon, the jeweler’s,” Slade
told her.
“Buyin’ diamonds for your girl
friend down the Basin?”
Slade laughed.
“There’s no such animal,” he
said, as he waved her good-by. But
he was wondering, at the moment,
if Lynn Morlock would be paying
her customary visit to St. Gabriel’s.
She’d be wanting supplies, before
heading north. For the North was
empty of much that was needed
there. His present mission was evi-
dence enough of that. It involved,
he remembered, a wedding ring for
a love-lorn mine-worker at El Do-
rado, a mine-worker impatient to
travel in double-harness with a full-
bosomed Swede waitress who an-
swered to the name of Atlin Olga.
For five years now, Slade also
remembered, he had been an un-
attached shopping agent for the ex-
iles along the new frontier. He had
taken in Christmas turkeys and ra-
dio sets, dancing slippers and to-
bacco, compasses and clock-keys.
He had swapped their beaver and
muskrat pelts for layettes and cot-
ton-flannel, and exchanged white
foxskins for baby food and safety
pins. He had matched yarn and
learned how to spot service-weight
silk stockings and select slips of the
right tea-rose tint. He had sleuthed
out needed machine parts and
bought cough medicine and kidney
pills.
So the purchase of a wedding ring,
and even a wedding ring of the mas-
siveness and diameter designated
by the impatient groom, seemed
merely an incident in the day’s
work. He laughed a little as he in-'
spected the big ring in its velvet
box.
His smile faded as he looked at
his watch. His plane, he remem-
bered, was awaiting his attention.
He turned and looked about for Cas-
sie’s taxi. He was still diffidently
searching the dusty street ends
when he heard his name called.
“Alan!”
It quickened his pulse. For he
knew that calling voice belonged to
Lynn Morlock, even before he
caught sight of her between the
loungers fringing the shop fronts.
She was, he saw, almost running
along the none too even sidewalk.
Her hair, close-clipped and boy-like,
shone mahogany-brown in the sun-
light and she carried her familiar
first-aid bag. There was neither
alarm nor excitement on her face.
But there was resolution in her
stride.
“Alan, come with me, quick,” she
called over her shoulder, without
slackening her pace.
“What’s happened?” Alan asked
as he swung in beside her.
“There’s been a fight,” she said,
between breaths. “There’s a man
bleeding to death. At least that’s
the word they sent.”
“Where is he?” asked Slade.
They turned up a side street,
where the idlers, both Indian and
white, coul3 no longer gape after
them.
“At-the Blue Goose,” was Lynn’s
answer. “It sounds like a severed
artery.”
Slade knew enough of frontier-
town gambling joints and gin mills
disguised as dance halls to realize
what they might have to face.
“That’s no place for a girl,” he
contended.
“I’ve been in worse,” was Lynn’s
quiek reply. “And you may have to
help me.”'
“Why isn’t the Padre attending
to this?” he asked as he hurried on
beside her.
A shadow crossed the girl’s face.
“You know how Father feels
about drinking.”
“But even a drunken man can
die,” protested Slade.
“I’m afraid Father would let
him,” was the girl’s answer to that.
“He’s no longer a doctor, where al-
coholics are concerned. He’s washed
his hands of them. And nothing will
ever change him.”
Slade remembered something
with the hazy story of the Flying
Padre’s abrupt migration from a
once-opulent city practice to the out-
posts of the Mackenzie Basin. Law-
rence Morlock, he remembered, had
his reasons for hating drunkenness.
For as Slade was able to piece the
story together, Lynn’s father had
been one of New York’s most suc-
cessful surgeons. He had flown high
and flown fast, until the tragic death
of his wife brought him up short.
The enemy he was fighting on a
well-fortified front line dropped like
a parachutist in his own home. Be-
wildered and stunned, but refusing
to give ground, he had sought relief
in over-work and alcohol. But one
night when called from a night club
for an emergency operation his hand
had failed him and his patient, a
pillar of Wall Street, had died on
the table. That death, the surgeon
always felt, was due to his own
drunkenness. It rang the curtain
down on all his earlier feverish
scramble for wealth. He cabled
his daughter Lynn, then in Switzer-
land, that he was giving up his prac-
tice and selling his city home. He
quietly dropped out of his old life
and, a year later, reappeared as a
relief-worker when a flu epidemic
was decimating the northern camps
of Canada. His field broadened as
he learned the need for medical
service along the outer fringes of
the New Frontier, and he equipped
himself with a plane which was used
in many a mercy flight.
His daughter Lynn was proving
herself a chip of the old block. For
when she realized her father was
somberly happy in that work and
definitely committed to what she
accepted as a life of expiation, she
quietly went in training as a nurse,
equipped herself as a co-worker
with the Padre, and joined him in
his silent yet stoic campaign of re-
demption. She had stuck to him
with a tender loyalty.
“If this is going to be a murder
case,” he contended, “why not noti-
fy the police?”
“It mustn’t be murder,” cried
Lynn. To the man following her
she looked reassuringly fearless in
the slanting northern sunlight.
They must have been waiting for
her in the Blue Goose. The door
opened, expectantly, even before she
reached it.
“Where is he?” the girl asked of
the pock-marked man in his shirt
sleeves. He closed and locked the
door before answering.
“In here,” he said with a side
glance of hostility as Slade pushed
in after the girl. The sound of a
phonograph blaring out dance music
in some outer room suddenly came
to a stop. A bold-eyed woman, heav-
ily rouged, backed away at the per-
emptory hand wave of the proprie-
tor, who opened a second door and
pointed inside, without advancing.
His first impression of the room,
as he entered, was one of blood.
There was blood on the cover of an
overturned table, on the floor and on
the summer parka worn by a figure
half-lying and half-crouching along
a stained wicker couch splashed
with red.
Slade couldn’t tell whether the
man in the parka was being held up
or held down by an aproned and
yellow-faced bartender who sat with
one arm about the wounded man
and looked up at them with the
round eyes of a bewildered rabbit
as the girl with the bag ran to his
side. It wasn’t until she pushed
the, aproned man away that Slade
recognized the face above the parka.
It was the parka that he recog-
nized first. He promptly identified it
as the garment that had been given
to Slim Tumstead by Air-Command-
er Rollins-Benson on the occasion of
a bush-fire flight in which Slim had
proved both his flying ability and
his fearlessness.
It was Slim Tumstead looking up
at him with a one-sided and slightly
sardonic smile.
“I’m all right,” he stubbornly
protested. But his voice was thin
with weakness.
“Let’s see,” challenged Lynn,
with her bag already open. Each
movement was quick and decisive
as she examined her patient. “Get
me water,” she commanded, with-
out turning her head, “water that’s
been boiled.”
/TO BE CONTINUED)
Potato Breeders
Make Test Plantings
Disease-Free Potatoes
Only Control of Ring Rot
$
How new knowledge of plant sci-
ence can lift some of the load from
the mind of a worried farmer is
illustrated by results of test plant-
tings reported by potato breeders of
the U. S. department of agriculture.
Ring rot is a serious potato dis-
ease. It appeared in Canada in 1931,
in Maine in 1932, and spread rapidly
causing serious crop losses. The
only effective control is to plant
nothing but disease-free seed pota-
toes. Traces of the disease in seed
stock are difficult to detect and may
lead to serious losses. Ring rot ha?
been reported from 37 states.
If scientific knowledge had not
advanced in the last 100 years,
says Dr. R. M. Salter, chief of
the bureau of plant industry,
the potato industry and the
country generally might well
worry over the possibility of a
potato famine such as Ireland
had in the Hungry Forties.
Potato specialists do not know of
a gold commercial variety that will!
grow in spite of ring rot. But au-
thors of the article report a trial of
“Come on out, guys and gals, see
what’s cookin’,” says this newly
hatched chick waiting for pals.
54 varieties artificially inoculated to
insure a thorough test. Nearly all
were severely diseased, but £t pre-
cious few came through uninjured.
Various Spuds Tested.
These include two imported varie-
ties “not commercially promising”
and several seedlings. Half the hy-
brids of the cross between “Presi-
dent”—imported from England—
and the valuable American variety,
Katahdin, showed no infection. Sev-
eral other seedlings showed signs of
resistance.
These tests indicate that resist-
ance to ring rot can be inherited
by the potato. The “President” va-
riety is not commercially valuable,
but from a breeding standpoint it
looks to be almost priceless. Based
on these tests and their experience
it should not be very difficult to
produce varieties resistant to ring
rot with good commercial qualities.
Agriculture
in
Industry
By FLORENCE C. WEED
Alfalfa
Although alfalfa is a fairly recent
arrival in the fields of the United
States and Canada, it is one of the
oldest crops known to man and
flourished in Asia and Europe for
centuries. For the last 20 years,
our farmers have given it great
preference and the acreage has
nearly doubled.
Being especially rich in vitamins,
it seems to offer good possibilities
for industrial uses. A pilot plant is
soon to be set up to extract pig-
ments from dried alfalfa leaves.
These will be used in coloring soaps
and foods and in preparing medi-
cines.
Some experiments also have been
made in extracting alfalfa juice for
human consumption so it may some-
time appear on our breakfast tables.
At Michigan State college, scien-
tists have been working on the prob-
lem on making plastics out of al-
falfa in the same way that soybeans
are utilized.
At present, the chief industrial
product is alfalfa meal which is
merely hay ground into coarse par-
ticles which can be fed to animals
without loss, and can be shipped
more cheaply than baled hay. It
can be used in mixed feeds for such
small animals as rabbits and poul-
try. Some of the meal in refined
form has been used in breakfast
foods for humans and experiments
have been made to add carotene
extraction to tonics and candy.
Rural Briefs
Fruit should be fully grown, well
colored, but not overripe for good
storage.
* * *
Production of crimson clover seed
this year is expected to be about
twice as large as the previous crop
record of 1941.
* * *
By taking good care of eggs on
the farm, especially during the
summer months, poultrymen will
get better returns for their product
TIRE SITUATION
HOI WORRYING
BUFFOON SCHACHT
Clown Prince lo Tour
Regardless; Appears in
Houston Monday Night
A1 Schacht, baseball’s great na-
tional comedian, will appear at
Buffalo Stadium in Houston on the
night of Monday, August 17, before
and during the game between Rog-
ers Hornsby’s Fort Worth Cats and
the Houston Buffs. The ladies will
get a real break as this will be a
ladies’ night game with special
reduced prices prevailing.
“Keep ’Em Laughing.”
That’s the slogan A1 Schacht, the
“Clown Prince of Baseball,” has
selected for his sixth annual tour of
the nation’s ball parks.
“And how can I do that,” inquires
the inquiring Mr. Schacht, “if I
worry about tires?”
Buffoon Schacht, who was a fair
country pitcher in his day, although
there are few witnesses to the fact
who are willing to endanger their
good standing by admitting it,
started his tour in Jersey City’s
Roosevelt Stadium on April 16. He
won’t stop again until after the
World Series in October, the gods
of war permitting.
Al, who before going into clown-
ing for a living was third-base
coach for the Washington Senators
and until 1937 with the Boston Red
Sox, has solved his problems with-
out too much straining on the leash
of his brain—sometimes called a
“Smattering of Ignorance.”
“I’ll start in my car,” he says,
“and if my tires run out, I’ll go by
trains. And if they stop running,
I’ll go by bus, and if that’s no good
I’ll sprout wings and fly. But I’ll
get there.”
While he jokes about his travels,
those who know the diamond mad
hatter well realize that he is most
sincere in his efforts to add a bit of
humor to America’s war effort. He
has gone so far as to offer his serv-
ices gratis and at his own expense
to any Army camp within reason-
able traveling distance on his off
days this season.
Philosophically—and despite his
comic antics on the field—Mr.
Schacht is quite the philosopher on
life. He adds:
“Maybe I’m kidding myself, -but
I’ve been traveling thousands of
miles and everywhere I go, people
look at me and laugh. I’m either
funny or ridiculous, and what’s the
difference—as long as they laugh.”
Lad Wakes, Nabs Pistol
Pointed in Fun and Dies
CHICAGO.—Elmer Swanson, 18,
awoke with a start when his Sun-
day afternoon nap was interrupted
by the pressure of an object against
his head.
The object was a pistol. Not fully
awake, he seized the gun without
noticing it was in the hand of his
best friend, Ned Benigno, 16. It
discharged and wounded Swanson
fatally.
Ned sobbed as he told the story.
He first said the gun had discharged
lying on the bed. Then he admitted
he had lied because he “couldn’t
confess that I had killed my chum.”
“Elmer and I had a date with
two girls, but I had no money,” Ned
said. “I took a pistol that my broth-
er, Vito, had left when he went to
California. I intended to pawn it.
“I went to Elmer’s home and he
was asleep. I went up and lay be-
side him. He didn’t wake up. Then
I playfully put the pistol against his
head. He suddenly woke up and
grabbed it. I yelled at him, but
the gun went off.”
Lightning Hits Same
Man Twice in Michigan
OWOSSO, MICH.—Lightning struck
in different places, all right, but hit
the same man twice.
Robert Hudson, Bennington, Mich.,
contractor, was knocked unconscious
when a bolt struck near him as he
-supervised a job at the Michigan
Sugar company. His only ill effect
was a headache.
Later he was knocked down by
another bolt while working on hos-
pital construction. He suffered a
minor eye injury.
$50 ‘Touch’ Good News
For Father of Airman
PUEBLO, COLO. — Anticipating
bad news when he was called from
a theater to receive a cablegram
from his son, a flier in the Royal
Canadian air force on duty in Eng-
land, a Pueblo man gave a sigh of
relief when he read:
“Dear Pop: Wire me fifty bucks,
care of my hotel, London. Enjoy-
ing my leave.”
Washington, D. C.
WAGE STABILIZATION ,
You can write it down that the
President will use his executive
powers to keep wages in check
rather than ask congress for any
new legislation dealing with wage
stablization.
There are two reasons for this:
(1) Wage control legislation would
be sure to stir up another bitter
congressional controversy, as bad
or worse than the brawl over farm
parity prices. It might even re-
quire months to get both houses to
agree on a bill satisfactory to the
administration.
(2) The President believes that the
policy proposed by the War Labor
board’s recent steel wage decision—
limiting wage increases to 15 per
cent over scales prevailing on Janu-
ary 1, 1941—plus additional ration-
ing of consumer goods, will be suf-
ficient for the time being to brake
inflation threats to the working
man’s pocketbook.
Inside fact is that the War Labor
board is contemplating only one fur-
ther step in its wage stabilization
program, and this is not so much
an anti-inflation move as a conces-
sion to certain labor groups and a
contribution to the prosecution of
the war.
Wages in certain industries, in-
cluding shipyards and tool-and-die
plants, are above the 15 per cent in-
crease ceiling set by the board. This
raises the question—shall wages in
these industries be brought down to
conform with scales in other war
plants which pay below the ceiling?
The answer is—there will be no
reduction in wages. The President
has decided definitely against this.
Instead, to prevent piracy and mi-
gration of workers away from vital
war plants paying below the 15 per
cent ceiling, the War Labor board
is planning to amend its wage policy
to permit the payment of “premi-
um wages” (above the ceiling) in
such plants.
Note: One industry sure to be al-
lowed “premium wages” is aircraft,
which has lost many workmen, by
piracy and migration, to higher-pay-
ing shipyards.
* * *
NEW ARMY FOOD
To save shipping space, the army
is sending food overseas in dehy-
drated form. Experiments in taste-
preserving dehydration have been
carried out and tested on a group
of army cooks.
At the Chicago depot of the quar-
termaster corps, the cooks sat down
to a meal of dehydrated foods, prin-
cipal item on the menu being scram-
bled eggs made by adding water to
a yellow powder.
It has been discovered that one
pound of dehydrated turnips will
serve 28 persons, after water is
added.
* * *
BEHIND THE AIR CORPS
This war will be won or lost in
the air. But despite that fact the
air forces will win or lose the war
on the ground. In other words, the
success of operations in the air de-
pends on ground crews, who out-
number air crews ten to one.
Featured in the headlines and the
newsreels every day are the pilots
and machine gunners. But the un-
sung heroes of this war are the
ground crews.
Real fact is that it takes only one
man to pilot a fighter plane, but it
takes eight or ten maintenance men
to keep it in shape to fight. A four-
engine bomber requires a flying
crew of nine, and a maintenance
crew of 25/ Often a ground crew
will be assigned exclusively to one
plane, and will become attached to
it with the affection a stable boy
has for a race horse.
Chief of Staff General Marshall
has revealed that the over-all
strength of the air force is expected
to reach 1,000,000 men by the end of
1942, and 2,000,000 by the end of next
year. If the war is won in 1943, it
will be won by these 2,000,000 men.
But 1,800,000 of them will be “fight-
ing” on the ground.
They are the overall-boys, the
grease monkeys, the men who spend
all day overhauling an engine which
has been flying all night, the men
who know what heat is like in the
deserts of Africa, because they don’t
get up in the air for relief, as do
the pilots.
* * *
OVERSEAS CANDY
The quartermaster corps is in the
market to buy 2,500,000 pounds of
hard candy: peppermint, orange,
lemon, lime, anise, and cherry.
The hard candy is being bought
for overseas troops, as part of the
regular field ration. Official expla-
nation is that candy is an excellent
source of energy.
* * *
AFRICAN CAMEL CREWS
They are the mechanics, the ar-
morers, the metal workers, the
welders—yes, and they are the pick
and shovel men who build the land-
ing fields in foreign posts, and re-
pair them after enemy bombers
have passed over. They are also
the cooks and the mess boys, the
pay masters, the doctors, and the
truck drivers. In short, they are
the men who perform every duty
that keeps a plane in the air.
They do everything except replace
the African camels.
ON THE
HOME%^
^FRONTVf
RUTH WYETH SPEARS
\X7'HATEVER the limitations
** that priorities may place on
new bathroom fixtures there is nc
limit to the gay color and good
cheer that you may have with
brightly painted cupboards and
towels decorated with pieces from
your scrap bag. In this bathroom
a morning glory applique design
is used for towels of two sizes
and for curtains.
The handy towel and lotion cup-
board is painted white outside and
BLUE AND WHITE CABINET
WITH CUT-OUT SCALLOPS
BLUE MORNING GLORIES IN APPLIQUE I
DESIGN FOR CURTAINS AND TOWELS
morning glory blue inside. The
sides, top and bottom are screwed
together at the comers. Use half-
inch metal angles as shelf sup-
ports, or make grooves for a neat-
er job. As shown in the sketch,
the cupboard is trimmed and
made rigid with plywood scallops
secured with half-inch screws.
* * *
NOTE: Here is news for the man with
hammer and saw. Whether you have a
coping saw from the dime store or an
expensive band saw, you may now make
cut-out scallops for any purpose desired.
Pattern No. 207 includes scallops from
one and a half inches to nineteen inches;
together with numerous illustrations ol
their use in home decoration. The lady
with needle and thread will want pattern
No. 202 with ten hot iron transfers of the
Morning Glory designs. Patterns are 10
cents each. Order by number and
address:
MRS. RUTH WYETH
SPEARS
Bedford Hills
New York
Drawer 10
Enclose 10 cents for each pattern
desired.
Name ..................
Address ................
Friendly Books
He who loveth a book will never
want for a faithful friend, a whole-
some counsellor, a cheerful com-
panion, or an effectual comforter.
—Isaac Barrow.
f-To Relieve MONTHLY-N
FEMALE FAIN
If you suffer monthly cramps, back-
ache, nervousness, distress of
“irregularities”—due to functional
monthly disturbances—try Lydia E.
Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound at
once! Pinkham’s Compound is one
medicine you can buy today made
especially for women.
Taken regularly thruout the
month — Pinkham’s Compound
helps build up resistance against
such symptoms. Follow label direc-
tions. Worth trying!
UTDifl E. PiNKKAM’S
Other’s Flowers
I have gathered me a posy of
other men’s flowers and only the
thread that binds them is mine
own.—Montaigne.
To relieve heat rash, to help prevent heat
rash; after shower—anytime—dust with
Mexican Heat Powder. Helpsbaby getrest.
Guards against chafing skin irritation. De-
mand Mexican Heat Powder. Costs little.
We Can All Be
EXPERT
BUYERS
9 In bringing us buying Information, as
to prices that are being asked for
what we intend to buy, and as to tho
quality we can expect, the advertising
columns of this newspaper perform a
worth while service which saves us
many dollars a year.
• It is a good habit to form, the habit
of consulting the advertisements every
time we make a purchase, though wo
have already decided just what we
want and where we are going to buy
It. It gives us the most priceless feeling
In the world: the feeling of being
adequately prepared.
• When we go Into a store, prepared
beforehand with knowledge of what is
offered and at what price, we go as
an expert buyer, filled with self-confi-
dence. It Is a pleasant feeling to have,
the feeling of adequacy. Most of tile
unhappiness in the world can be traced
to a lack of this feeling. Thus adver-
tising shows another of its manifold
facets—shows itself as an aid toward
making all our business relationships
more secure and pleasant.
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Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Jones, J. L. Refugio Timely Remarks (Refugio, Tex.), Vol. 14, No. 42, Ed. 1 Thursday, August 13, 1942, newspaper, August 13, 1942; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth848263/m1/3/?q=+date%3A1941-1945: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Dennis M. O’Connor Public Library.