The Lampasas Daily Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 28, No. 301, Ed. 1 Wednesday, February 24, 1932 Page: 3 of 4
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THE LAMPASAS LEADER
Wheat Brings $1.25 a Bushel Here
TpCONOMISTS might be puzzled at seeing Charles Huffman (right), Kansas
-Lrf farmer, being handed a check for $125 for 100 bushels of wheat while
other Kansas farmers are getting only 40 cents a bushel for the grain. John
R. Reed, who is tendering the check, bought the wheat in accordance with
the Pratt County Prosperity Wheat association’s plan for boosting the price
of wheat to $1.25 a bushel. The wheat was turned over to a bakery in Pritt,
Kan., which promptly proceeded to make it into bread which sold for 10 cents
a loaf, the prevailing price. The first loaf of the “$1.25 wheat” bread
was presented to President Hoover.
NLY rich flavored fruits will stand
the chilling in frozen dishes with-
out losing their flavor. The banana is
one of these. It not only keeps its
luscious flavor, but enhances the cream-
ness of any frozen dish.
The banana being rich in vitamin C
it is another fruit to serve freely in
various ways to keep helathful.
Fruit Ice Cream.
Rub three ripe bananas through a
Sieve, add the juice of three oranges,
three lemons and two cupfuls of sugar,
a pinch of salt and one quart of thin
cream. Freeze, after stirring until the
sugar is well dissolved. Serve in sher-
bet glasses garnished with preserved
orange peel.
Candle Salad.
This is such a dainty and pretty sal-
ad as well as nice to eat. It is not
new, but may be welcome to those wh(r
have not served it. Arrange slices of
pineapple (the canned) well drained,
on a ruffled leaf of lettuce or a paper
doily-covered salad plate. In the cen-
ter place a small banana, to fill the
hole in the pineapple. This may be
cut down to fit, having the pointed end
of the fruit for the top of the candle.
Top each with' a small piece of candied
cherry and place a thick mayonnaise
over the candle to simulate wax.
Fruit Cup.
Dice bananas, pineapple,, oranges
and melon of any kind. Serve with a
sauce, using lemon juice, with a bit of
grated rind and sugar, to make a thin
sirup. Cool and pour over the fruit.
Serve well chilled, garnished with a
sprig of mint or a bright cherry.
Banana Fritters.
Banana fritters are delicious mor-
sels to serve as an entree with lemon
sauce. Cut the bananas into two-inch
slices, dip into the fritter batter and
fry brown. Keep hot and serve with
the lemon sauce-made as usual. As a
cream pie add a cupful of sliced ba-
nana to the filling after it is chilled,
top with sweetened whipped cream
and dot with bright jelly or finely
minced preserved cherries.
<©. 1932. Western Newspaper Union.)
j KITTY McKAY +
By Nina Wilcox Putnam
New Spring Hat
One of the attractive spring hats is
this rolled Breton sailor with saucer
brim line. It is of mixed straw in
Chinese green and white, and has a
gay feather trim in green, red and
white.
The girl friend says that we all
owe something to our country but the
income tax collector will get it sooner
or later.
(©. 1932, Bell Syndicate.)—WNU Service.
MADE WITH BANANAS
/"CHILDREN’S
V STORY
—By--—
THORNTON W. BURGESS
HOOTY THE OWL PROVES
A FRIEND
Oh, honor a friend when a friend you
need.
For then is a friend, a friend indeed.
OOMETIMES people act the part of
^ friends without knowing it. It was
that way with Hooty the Owl. He
proved a friend to Peter Rabbit when
Peter most needed friend, but he
„ doesn’t know it to this day. However,
Peter doesn’t forget, and he has a
kindlier feeling for Hooty than ever
he .used to havfe. It is queer how
things sometimes happen in this world.
Hooty did for Peter the greatest thing
that anyone can do for another; he
saved Peter’s life. Yes, sir, that is
just what Hooty did. And this is the
queer thing about it; he didn’t try to
do it. More than this, he didn’t know
that he did do it. He doesn’t know it
yet. But Peter knows it, and little
Mrs. Peter knows it,, for Peter told her
all about it, and one other knows it—
Shadow the Weasel.
You see it was this way: Peter had
run until he felt as if he couldn’t run
another step. His feet felt too heavy
to lift. He was so short of breath that
he had a pain in his side, the same
sort of pain that you sometimes have
when you run very long and very
hard. Worse still, his heart was thump-
ing from fear and terror till it seemed
as if it must burst, and not one little
ray of hope did Peter have to give him
courage. He knew that somewhere
behind him, drawing nearer with
every jump, was Shadow the Weasel,
and that when Shadow should catch
him, then—well, it was best not to
think about what would happen then.
At last Peter felt that he just had
to rest. He couldn’t run another step.
Right in front of him was a pile of
snow-covered brush. He crawled un-
der this, and there he squatted pant-
ing for breath, and with a terrible fear
in his eyes, watching his back tracks
for Shadow the Weasel. Now it just
happened that Peter had no more than
crawled under that pile of brush than
Hooty the Owl came sailing over the
Green Forest on silent wings, like a
black shadow in the moonlight.
Close by the pile of brush under
which Peter was hiding was a fall dead
tree, and right on the top of this
Hooty alighted and sat perfectly still
and very straight. In fact he looked
like a part of the tree itself. He meant
to. It was one of Booty’s watch tow-
“lf you can't bury yourself in bookt
nowadays,” says perusing Pearl, “it
isn’t for any lack of dirt in them.”
(©, 1932, Bell Syndicate.)—WNU Service,
ers. He had arrived just too late to
see Peter crawl under the brush, and
he came so silently that Peter didn’t
hear him. Neither did Peter see him,
for he was too intent on watching for
Shadow to look up. So Peter didn’t
know that Hooty was anywhere near,
and Hooty didn’t know that Peter was
anywhere about.
Peter had watched sharply, but had
seen nothing, when suddenly Hooty
swooped down right in front of where
Peter was hiding. It was so sudden
and unexpected that Peter swallowed
his breath and almost choked. There
was an angry spitting sound, and then
Peter saw what looked like some of
the snow itself bound off to one side.
It was Shadow, and his coat was pure
white. Again Hooty swooped and Shad-
ow dodged. Then he turned and darted
into a hole in a hollow log while Hooty
went back to his watch tower. Then
Peter sighed. It was a sigh of great
relief. As long as Hooty sat there
Shadow would not dare come out of
his retreat in the hollow log, and that
meant that he, Peter, would have time
to rest and regain his breath. Hooty
had saved his life for a \vhile, any-
way, for if he hadn’t swooped at
Shadow just when he did, and so pre-
vented him from reaching the pile of
brush, Peter would have been no more
by this time. For the first time in all
his life Peter felt kindly toward Hooty
the Owl. Perhaps now he might get
away after all.
(© by J. G. Lloyd.)—WNU Service.
Nonhuman Virtue
A naturalist reminds us that an ele-
phant never forgets. The trouble is
that elephants are not the people who
borrow money.—London Humorist.
Private Yacht Built for American
\7 IRW of the new private yacht built at the Friedrich Krupp works in Kiel,
» Germany for an American yachting enthusiast. This four-masted bark
with a sail spread of 3,300 square meters has an auxiliary Diesel-propellor
engine in its hull, which is the largest ever built into a sea-going vessel. The
power is supplied by four generators, each of which is coupled with an 800
horse-power oil motor.
Lee’s Underground Munition Plant Is Found
_i— *' i;
: I
/'A NE mile from the entrance of a
huge cave near White Sulphur
Springs, W. Va., and 400 feet under-
ground has bees found a big ammuni-
tion plant used by Gen. Robert. E. Lee
when he was fighting the northern
armies in that region in 18G4-65. The
saltpeter hoppers which the two men
in this picture are inspecting are in
perfect condition. It is believed the
federal authorities never learned of
the existence of this subterranean
munitions factory.
•t^X^XK^X^X^X^X^X^X^X^X^X^X*
| ON THE FLOOR f
I - ?
A By DOUGLAS MALLOCH X
v A
X^X^X^XKK^X^X^X^X^X^X^Xi'
pMGURE this one out for me:
F Wide awake I seem to be,
Lying quiet, counting sheep,
Nothing seems to makje; me sleep,
Far from noises of the town,
In a bed as soft as down.
Yet I roll and toss about;
Here’s what I can’t figure out:
Then I think about the floor,
Where I slept' in days of yore,
Where I used to slumber some
Night the company would come.
Then our house was much too small
Few the beds, to hold them all,
And we children, with delight,
Slept upon the floor that, night.
Blanket', pillow, these I find,
And, upon the floor reclined,
Fall asleep, and wake at three
Glad again a bed to see.
Sleep again, and waken lame,
Just as certain just the same
I’d have stayed awake till four
If I hadn’t tried the floor.
(©. 1932. Dousrlas Malloch.)—WNU Servto*.
Evidently Husband’s Idea
Allowance is what a husband has to
make for his wife, and what a wife
never makes for her husband.—Ex-
change.
Old French Ceremony
of Blessing the Pack
St. Hubert’s day, celebrated on No- 1
vember 3, is the formal commencement
of the hunting season in France, wrote
William S. Walsh in “Curiosities of
Popular Customs.” In many of the
rural churches of France St. Hubert’s
mass is celebrated on this occasion. All
the hunting dogs in the neighborhood
are brought to the church. Low mass j
is said and then the priest solemnly
makes his way through the aisle into
the yard. A piquer toots a jolly fan- j
fare. At this familiar sound the pack j
tears pellmell out' of the chapel and ,
in obedience to a word from the keep- j
er rallies round the priest, who there- !
upon blesses and breaks the sacred i
cake, which is a sovereign antidote
against madness and administers it
to the brutes, together with a priestly !
pat between the ears. Then hunts-
men, villagers, spectators and dogs are
included in a general blessing and I
away go the huntsmen and the pack, !
anointed with the oil of righteousness,
ready for the slaughter of as many of :
God’s creatures as they can run to
their death.—Detroit News.
Death Penalty Imposed
on Young “Malefactors”
The prompt reprieve for a boy slay- :
er of sixteen offers another contrast ;
to the older and more savage code, j
writes a columnist in the Manchester
(England) Guardian. In other cen-
turies much younger children were
not only sentenced to death but also
executed for minor offenses. A boy of j
eight was hanged in 1629 for burning
two barns; “it appearing,” thought the
learned judge, “that he had malice,
revenge, craft, and cunning.” Michael
Hammond and his sister, aged seven
and eleven, were hanged at Lynn for ;
felony in 1708. Even as late as 1828
a boy of twelve and one-half was
hanged in Jersey. Baron Hotham sen-
tenced a child of ten to death in 1800 ■
for secreting notes at the Chelmsford j
post office, and took occasion to point
out the “necessity of the prosecution
and the infinite danger of its going
abroad into the world that a child
might commit such a crime with im-
punity !” But the sentence was com- j
muted and the boy sent to Granada
for 14 years.
Quack Grass
The way it looks to me, after hav-
ing battled with “quack” over a long
period of years, in a small garden
patch, the stuff must have been one
of the devil’s masterpieces. I can im-
agine the old boy’s shriek of fiendish
glee when he thought of it!—The back
aches, the grim sense of a constant
losing fight, the desperate determina-
tion to trace each tiny rootlet and
burn it, and then—to do it all over
and over and over! And to find that,
after all, each day brought a fresh
supply and there was no sign that the
effort put forth had counted at all. If
I could think of words to express my
opinion of “quack grass”—Don’t get
excited! They would never reach you !
This poor “antique” typewriter would
be a molten, smoking ruin!—Drat the
stuff!—Peter Van Dingbuster, in the
Missouri Farmer.
Belief in “Magic”
Magic is as old as the human race.
As soon as men deserted the horizon-
tal position and rose to dignity on
their two hind legs, they began to won-
der what the world was all about. It
was then that they first started to dab-
ble in magic, and they never have
ceased to this day. In ancient Egypt
priests used magic to mystify their
people. .JTlie Greeks and Romans be-
lieved in oracles. In the ruins of the
forum at Pompeii there still stands an
oracle whcih dates back to 76 A. D. or
earlier. A lead pipe leads back to the
spot where the old priest sat and ut-
tered the wisdom attributed to the
oracle.
Historic Reproduction
There is a building called Virginia
house at Windsor farm, just outside of
| the city of Richmond. The building
is constructed of material from the
ancient priory of the Holy Sepulcher
completed in 1565, at Warwick, Eng-
land. It was purchased, packed and
shipped outright to Windsor farms in
! 1925-1926. The structure represents
! three historic English houses: The
Tudor portion of Warwick priory; part
of Warmleighton, the home of the
Spencers, and the original portion of
the present Sulgrave manor, the an«
cient home of George Washington.
Basilicas
Originally, at Athens, a basilica was
a portico «n the agora in which the
archon basil eus dispensed justice.
Later, in Rome, it was a rectangular
hall divided into nave and aisles by
ranges of columns, and with a raised
platform, called the tribune, at one
end. It was used as a hall of justice
and adopted as the type for the earli-
est buildings of Christian worship.
The word is now applied to .a church
of this time or to one to which the
pope has given the title.
Travel in Discomfort
Baby opossums travel on the back
of their parent, but they are third-class
passengers, for they have to put
up with the open air in all weathers.
The mother bends her tail over her
back, and the youngsters, twisting
their small tails round that of the par-
ent, hold on as best they can, but at
times they must have a rough journey,
for with eight or ten babies on her
back, she will climb trees and move
rapidly about among the branches.
((c) by McClure Newspaper Svndicate.*
(WNU ServH.i»
'VJORA had always been what the
-Lv family vulgarly called, “nosey.”
She always wondered what the people
at tables round about her were eating
and what shoppers had in their
numerous bundles. She even surmised
at sight cf trunks and suitcases just
what their contents might be.
Nora didn’t mind being kidded about
her curiosity.
“It’s a perfectly harmless amuse-
ment,” she always said. “And I get
heaps of fun out of it.”
“You should be a detective instead
of an editor,” some of her friends told
her.
So in order to be nearer her editorial
chair Nora took a small apartment in
an old house down town.
There were two rooms on the sec-
ond floor with a large dressing room
connecting them and Nora had scarce-
ly decided on them when she fell to
wondering if there was anything in the
cupboards that lined the wall above
the ample wardrobes. They were so
high that she figured she would have
to climb oh a table top if she were to
make use of them. . Soon after she
had settled in her new quarters she
climbed up on her small kitchen table-
to pull open the old mahogany door.
“Humph!” she commented, “there’s
not much here. The former tenant
took everything along—fine place to
put away winter curtains and coats
and hats. What ho! I believe I’ve
discovered something.” She strained
on tiptoe and dislodged a panel of
wood that had made the cupboard a
few inches more shallow than its
mates. Nora was getting excited.
She dislodged the panel and exclaimed
with surprise.
The little compartment so carefully
concealed was filled with papers and a
diary. Nora sat down on the edge of
the table, her feet swinging animated-
ly, her eyes swiftly scanning the pages
of the diary.
“Well, of all things!” she exploded,
“this is some poor struggling writer’s
farewell to a career and oh!—how
broken heartrid he is.” She reread
portions, “With the sealing up of
this panel I am hiding away all that
makes life wonderful—my soul and all
the best of me is here—the rest is go-
ing into a world of business and a hunt
for the filthy lucre that enables one
to live and—marry. I am doing it for
Amy—I regret she could not give me
a longer trial at writing. I know I
should have won out. However, there
seems to be penalties attached to lov-
ing so—good-by—fair dreams.” A tear
splashed down on the diary and Nora
dabbed her nose with her handker-
chief. She jumped up swiftly and
hauled down a lot of the manuscripts
packed in the cupboard.
For a long -time Nora read the
stories. When she had finished about
a dozen she went down to the house-
keeper and made inquiry as to the pre-
vious tenants in her room. She got
much information. Sufficient anyway
to make her fling herself into her coat
and hat and take the subway up to
Seventy-second street.
It was about seven in the evening
as she made her way to a most re-
spectable boarding house and asked if
Mr. Tom Webber still lived there.
“Is he in at present?” asked Nora,
and being told to have a seat in the
reception room she waited.
She glanced up when a sort of mis-
erable looking young man came ques-
tioningly toward her. She told him
straight off that she wished to talk
with him about some stories and diary
that she had found in her studio.
The light that swept suddenly over
Webber’s face brought a swift lump to
Nora’s throat. He was transformed
from his misery into radiant life and
interest. He sat down close beside.
Nora.
“Mr. Webber,” said Nora severely,
“you are a very wicked and very ■weak,
young man.”
Webber had not expected anything;
like this and he looked his surprise.
“Worse!” continued Nora. “You"
have deliberately tried to strangle a
brain child—to cast it off for the sake
of some woman. You should be thor-
oughly ashamed of yourself—to have
knuckled down to a paltry money-
making position when you have a won-
derful gift.”
Webber gasped, then laughed the first
hearty laugh he had felt since leaving
his old studio. “There must be lots
to tell me,” he said swiftly arid eager-
ly, “won’t you come out to some quiet
place with me for dinner? I’m so fed
up with this conventional hoarding
house with its three square meals a
day that I feel I will bust—if I don’t
get out.”
Nora laughed in complete sympathy
and wondered how a fine manly man
like Tom Webber had ever let himself
be stepped on by some female. “Love,”
she thought, “is a fjjnny thing.”
vA good idea,” Nora said, “so get
your hat. I can hardly wait to tell
you how good your stories are.”
Webber snatched both her hands in
his and gave them a squeeze that hurt
before dashing upstairs three at a
time for his hat.
“You will be a very large, red feath-
er in my editorial cap,” she told him
later. “I am annoyed that you never
tried my magazine—with any of your
stories.”
“I didn’t dare aspire so high—I
thought you only took good names,” he
said modestly.
“Only good stories,” said Nora, and
when she saw the look in Webber’s
eyes, that was all for her. she knew
that for once her nosiness had led her
into real romance.
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The Lampasas Daily Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 28, No. 301, Ed. 1 Wednesday, February 24, 1932, newspaper, February 24, 1932; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth895022/m1/3/: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Lampasas Public Library.