The Lampasas Daily Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 36, No. 29, Ed. 1 Saturday, April 8, 1939 Page: 2 of 4
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Lampasas Area Newspaper Collection and was provided to The Portal to Texas History by the Lampasas Public Library.
- Highlighting
- Highlighting On/Off
- Color:
- Adjust Image
- Rotate Left
- Rotate Right
- Brightness, Contrast, etc. (Experimental)
- Cropping Tool
- Download Sizes
- Preview all sizes/dimensions or...
- Download Thumbnail
- Download Small
- Download Medium
- Download Large
- High Resolution Files
- IIIF Image JSON
- IIIF Image URL
- Accessibility
- View Extracted Text
Extracted Text
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
■
-
f—
Belsi
COMES a MOMENT
h
1
■>
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER IX—Continued
■
C
bl
hi
1
e>
n
■I
al
m
■
Wl
«
es1
she said. “How’s Oscar?”
i I
=r_
■
••• 1 Illi I ........
ful
Ad
J
m2
heJ
By ELINOR MAXWELL
• ARCADIA HOUSE PUBLICATIONS- WNU SERVICE
O
ft
e
fd
eri
ph
sh<
ye
It
tr;
hs
y’
yc
B1O1
eha
ied
oft]
ini
in
te
m
st
n
' -i
<
sh<
th<
er
lai
du
wi
mi
gi
sH
Pl]
B
w
o
h
she
and
bring some cheese and crackers.
Where in the world have you been,
Mary?”
Mary stepped into the bedroom.
‘‘Why, Aunt Linnie, didn’t Addie
of
wi]
in
drJ
in
■
r»
LI
dow.
life
ting
inf
■I
tii
£
|i
pigeons are aold
bird market in
I
, ‘Europe in Miniature,’.
•ographical Hodge-Podge
■ -h©
“Darling, you’re not falling in
love with him, are yon?”
r L
t-
rs.1
I
'.1
■
W •
lowed out by the River Lease, whicik
here disappears rnd w anders under-
ground. It is estimated that it taken
the water of the river 12 hours to
complete its subterranean course. ‘
Wool Industry Centers Here.
Excellent hur ting and fishing are
to be had in t le Ardennes. Many,
sportsmen whc live in Brussels and
Antwerp haveAheir shooting pre-
serves in this region. Grottoes,
game, ham, horses, vacationists,
and werewolf legends are not, how-
ever, the only resources of the Ar-
dennes. The great center of the
wool industry is near by in the
Vesdre valley, with Verviers hold-
ing first place.
When English competition killed
the Flemish' cloth industry, by an
anomaly of fortune the business
i
A united howl from the inmates
had set up the moment Phil’s car
had pulled into the driveway. Oscar,
feeling he had been betrayed by his
master and this girl who had al-
lowed him to lean so comfortably
against her, slunk beneath the car
and, for exactly ten minutes, stead-
fastly refused to budge.
Eventually, they wheedled him
out. Doctor Horner having produced
some bait in the shape of a very
large hunk of round steak. Finally,
assured by the veterinary that Os-
car merely had a cold and would
probably be in the pink of condi-
tion within a few days, they-^old the
dog good-by, and, followed by his
accusing eyes, made their way to
the coupe.
It was nearly midnight when
Mary reached home. Lelia had just
got in, and was rifling the ice-box;
while Miss Cotswell, propped up in
bed, was reading.
"Come on in here, girls,
called from her bedroom,
I
iL
i 15
i
*
V*
|fcf ft*
■t-iiu
SR
dm '® -
E
King Leopold and hie mother*
Queen Elizabeth, leave the large1
columned rotunda, a memorial
to King Albert, funds for which
came from email aubacriptiona to
which every Belgian war veteran
contributed. The memorial is
built on the tile of the advance
post which defended ihe loaf tiny
•trip of Belgium not invaded
during the World war.
o
i
i #7]
rd
The older woman, discerning the
girl’s unrest, studied her lovely
young profile. “What’s the matter,
dear? You haven’t received bad
news from home, have you?”
“No, everything's — all right I
simply feel—restless. I won’t be
gone long.”
Linnie Cotswell, sympathetic to
something she could not fathom,
continued to search the girl’s face.
“All right, my dear,” she finally
said. “Run along, but don’t forget
we’re leaving for Journey’s End at
eleven. Jerome’s car’ll be here
promptly on the hour.”
“I know,” Mary murmured as she
left the room to get a hat and coat
And to herself, she was saying,
"Journey’s End—Oh, my God I How
can I stand driving out there today
—filling myself with rich food—be-
ing shown those thoroughbred
horses and dogs—talking fool noth-
ings!"
THE LAMPASAS LEADER
Travelers in Belgium sometimes
see on the decks of barges and
canal boats little black dogs keep-
ing their watchful eyes on every-
thing going on about them. They
are the Belgian barge dogs, and
from their use they derive their
name which, incidentally, is pro-
nounced, skeeperkeh, and means in
Flemish little ‘skipper, writes P.
Hamilton Goodsell in the Detroit
News.
Little is definitely known of the
breed’s origin. It has been used for
many years as a guard on the boats
that ply the inland waters of Fland-
ers. It may have been distantly
related to the Pomeranian, as <they
both have the same fox-like head
with bright eyes, upstanding, small
ears, and dainty, well-shaped little
feet.
Although the Schipperke has not
the full coat of the Pomeranian,
one of its characteristics is its pro-
fuse ruff.
It weighs up to 18 pounds and
possesses the usual terrier qualities.
The breed first made its appearance
in England in the eighties, but it
was not until much later that it be-
came known to any extent in this
country.
At one time, it is said, sailors on
J
II I
I
j
I
II
give you my message? I telephoned
about five, but you weren’t in, and
I told her to tell you I was driving
to Westchester with Mr. Buchanan.
He had to take his dog to a veteri-
nary’s, and asked me to go along.”
“Heavens! How domestic and un-
exciting!”
"But it was fun, Aunt Linnie, real-
ly! We stopped at Trudi’s on
the way back, and had beefsteak
and German-fried potatoes, and
pancakes. And we sat in front of
a big log fire in a room that can’t
be a day less than a hundred years
old. No one else was there, and
after Trudi served our dinner, he
and his wife, who cooked it, came
and sat with us, and we talked.”
“Sounds cozy,” commented Lelia,
entering the room with a tray of
food. “Phil Buchanan loves to hob-
nob with all kinds of people. Per-
haps that’s why he's so successful;
he knows every phase of life. Half
the policemen in New York have
named their first-born son after
him.” >
Miss Cotswell regarded her niece
with speculative eyes. “Darling,
you’re not falling in love with him,
are you?”
The butter knife with which Mary
had been spreading some cheese
clattered to her plate. "No,” she
said coldly. "I’m not falling in love
with him, and a darned lot of good
it’d do me if I were. He’s inter-
ested in me as a writer—not a
woman. And not so terribly inter-
ested, at that! He turned down
‘Their Son’ today—said it was trite
and banal."
“Um,” murmured Linnie, and bit
into her cracker. “Well, I can’t
say, my dear, that I can shed any
tears over that The sooner you
discover you were never meant to
be an author, the better it’ll be for
you. Something will have to wake
you up to the advantages of marry-
ing Jerome Taylor."
Mary placed her plate on the tray
with a bang that was almost fatal.
“I’m never going to marry that
silly old man, Aunt,Linnie, and you
might as well know it right now.
Also, I wouldn’t have Umberto Bal-
ianci, with Ms brilliantined hair and
perfumed cigarettes, for a gift. I’m
sick to death of their fatuous
glances „ and their silly speeches.
It was wonderful—simply wonder-
ful—to spend this evening with a
man who never once mentioned my
so-called beauty, nor attempted to
kiss ma. No, Aunt Linnie, I’m not
falling in love with Phil Buchanan!
And heavens knows, he certainly
is not falling in love with me. In
fact, there are times when I feel
quite sure he doesn’t even like me—
that be secretly thinks I’m some-
thing of a fool!”
And, leaping to her feet, her eyes
burning with unshed tears, she fled
from the room
- - Z.l .
£ t
He was, by the grace of a friendly
policeman, waiting for her in his
low-slung coupe when she came out
of the building at five minutes after
five Oscar, looking regal in spite
of a nose that was definitely drip-
ping, occupied the rumble seat
Mary hastily slid in beside Bu-
chanan, and slammed the door. “I
didn’t know anybody short of the
mayor could park on Fifth Avenue!”
she said. “How’s Oscar?”
“Oscar’s got a decided case of
the sniffles,’* Phil replied, looking
really worried, “and Spike says you
can hear a sort of wheeze in his
fMat -like an organ in a country
church when the organist misses a
note”
Mary turned about, and looked at
the big dog through the back win-
“He seems to be enjoying
right now,” she reported. ”Sit-
[ up very straight and regard-
_ the traffic with enormous inter-
est!”
Eventually, they arrived at Doc-
tor Horner’s Country Retreat for
City Dogs, and, cramped and cold,
alighted from the car. Mary could
discern, through the gathering dark
of the March night, a rambling
frame building, once a barn, so Phil
Buchanan informed her—now a
model hospital for canine pets.
“Good Lord!” Phil Buchanan ex-
claimed incredulously. “You’re—
you’re not crying! My dear child,
please don’t take this thing so se-
riously After all, The National
Weekly’s not the only magazine in
New York”
Mary averted her face, and gazed
blindly out of the window. “No,”
sha.finally managed to say, “The
National Weekly’s not the only mag-
azine in New York, but if you say
‘Their Son* is trite, and lacks con-
viction, there’s no use in my trying
to market it anywhere else. And
what a fool you must think I am!
Crying because you don’t like my
story! I—I bet I’rn the only woman
who ever bawled in your office’’
Buchanan grinned, showing those
strong teeth that looked so startling-
ly white compared with the tan of
his face “Well, perhaps you are,
but let’s forget it”
Mary smiled through her tears.
“Maybe you can, but I’m sure the
memory of my making a fool of
myself before an editor will haunt
me to my dying day!—Mr. Buchan-
an?”
“Yes, Mary?”
“Throw that script in your waste
basket!”
“Why, I can’t do that. It’s your
property, you know.”
“I never want to see it again!”
“No, I won’t. It’ll be mailed to
you in proper form. Now tell me,
what’s the new tale about? And do
you feel that you’ve allowed your-
self enough time on it?”
Mary looked at him with troubled
eyes. “Why, I don’t know. I worked
on it constantly for two days and
a half—and, after all, a short is only
a thousand or so words in length.
Do you think I’d better take it back
home?” —------- _
“No. Leave it here. I’ll glance
over it, myself, instead of submit-
ting it to the regular routine. Then,
if I feel it should be improved upon.
I’ll return it to you for revision
before putting it through the usual
reading procedure Are you having
that picture taken this afternoon,
by the way?”
Mary glanced at her watch. “Yes,
I am, and it’s time I was getting
to the photographer’s. Thank you,
Mr. Buchanan. You’ve been—nice,
and I’m sorry I acted so silly.”
Phil Buchanan followed her to the
door. “Well, there’s something you
might do to—ah—make up for hav-
ing floored me just a bit there for
a moment.”
Mary smiled at him obliquely.
“And what is that? Never darken
your doors again?”
“To the contrary. I have to drive
Oscar up to Westchester this after-
noon, and I wish you’d go along.”
“Oscar?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten
Oscar! My dog, you know. He’s
working up an attack of something
or other, and I want to get him to
the veterinary’s before he breaks
out with distemper or the rickets, or
whatever Great Danes have. We
could call for you at the photogra-
pher’s if you’ll go; then, after get-
ting Oscar settled, drop in at Trudi’s
on the Boston Post Road for a beef-
steak dinner”
Mary hesitated. She had accept-
ed an invitation with Count Balianci
for dinner somewhere, and one of
their usual walks, but an evening
with Phil Buchanan suddenly ap-
peared far more desirable than an
evening with the suave Italian. She
could phone Balianci; cancel her
engagement with him.
“I’d love to go with you and Os-
car,” she finally said. “I don’t imag-
ine the photographer will keep me
more than an hour, do you?”
“Not a chance! Shall I call for
you, say, at five?”
“Yes, at five. Good-by.”
Canaries and
at the Sunday
front of Brussels' town hall.
continued to thrive around Verviers.
The secret of this region’s salva-
tion was the water of the Vesdre
and the Gileppe rivers. A peculiar-
ly soft water is required for wash-
ing wool; these streams alone pos-
sessed that quality.
The last official census of produc-
tion in this industry shows a total
of 285 enterprises.
Additional industries represented
in eastern Belgium are the paper
mills of Mahnedy and the chocolate
factories, boot and shoe and leather-
producing plants of Venders.
Leather is a patriarch among the
trades; tanning pits dating from
Roman times have been found here.
Europe’s Busiest Man.
One of the busiest men in Europe
is the port lieutenant at Antwerp—
an amazing fellow, busy in four
different languages at once. Never
hurried or confused, he spends his
day at a battery of phones receiving
reports of the myriad ships and
barges. s
Ten thousand seagoing vessels
call yearly, handling a total of twen-
ty million tons of merchandise. In .
addition are 50,000 river craft.
Antwerp is the outlet for Bel-
gium’s heavy industry, its mining
and agricultural products. North-
ern France, Alsace-Lorraine, the
Rhineland, Westphalia, and Central
Europe employ this gateway for a
goodly percentage of their world
commerce. Two hundred and forty
shipping lines enter Antwerp.
Sea gulls, lilting down the wind
currents above the gray harbor’s
traffic-churned waters, mew and 1
jeer at the torn shreds of carillon- J
jingle blown,across from the noble fl
Gothic tower'of nearby Notre Dams f
cathedral M
The days wore on—fruitless, ster-
ile days for Mary. She longed with
every fiber of her being to write,
but the words would not come. It
was futile to try, she finally told
herself, until after she had learned
the fate of “Concerning Anne.” If
Phillip Buchanan accepted it, her
belief in herself would be restored.
The dried well of her mind would
again gush forth. Until then, she
must go on in this helpless daze-
eating, bathing—dressing; attempt-
ing to sleep; attending farewell par-
ties given for Linnie and Lelia.
It was now the twelfth of March,
and they would be sailing in three
days. Maybe, after they had gone,
and she and Addie were left alone
in the quiet of the apartment, she’d
be able to think. Maybe . . .
It was early in the afternoon of
the twelfth that, coming home from
a dull luncheon at the Ritz with
some of Linnie’s friends, she found
a letter from The National Weekly
on. her dressing-table. Her heart
flooded with hope when she saw that
it was thin and flat—that it could
not possibly contain a script. With
clumsy haste she tore off one
end of the envelope, and snatched
out the single sheet of paper it con-
tained.
“Why, it’s in longhand,” she said
to herself. “How strange! Did Mr.
Buchanan write it, himself?” Yes,
there was his signature, “Phillip
Buchanan,” scrawled at the bottom
of the page.
Then, with joyous anticipation,
she began to read:
My dear MUa Loring.
I’ve juat finished reading "Concerning
Anne." and. my dear child. "Their Son'3
was a gem in comparison. It. at least,
had possiblliUes—that is. perhaps, for
some magazine other than The National
Weekly. What has come over you? Why
can't the girl who wrote “At Sea" pro-
duce another perfect short?
It's in you. Mary Loring. It is—only
something about which I can't possibly
know is destroying your beautiful talent
Please try to overcome it or shake it
off. or forget it. I feel sure you can do
it I have absolute faith in your ability.
That is why I am writing you these
words which, tn all probability, you will
consider brutal.
"Concerning Anne" is not being re-
turned to you by mail. I don't want
anjTjody in the. odice to see iL Instead,
will you lunch with me at the Brevoort
Saturday the fifteenth, and talk things
over?
Sincerely,
u Phillip Buchanan
Mary never knew how long she
stood there at the dressing-table,
staring blindly at Phillip Buchan-
an's letter. A dull pain pounded at
the back of her neck, and, for a
while, she thought she was going
to be sick. The frankness of his
words was reacting upon her with
physical violence. Her mouth felt
dry and hot. Automatically, she
moved towards the bathroom, took
the peach-colored glass from its
niche in the wall, and turned. on
the cold water faucet.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Prs^arcd^by^fatlor.al Gao^ra^c Society.
Belgium might well adopt as
its nickname “Little Europe.”
One finds here, in the land’s to-
pography, crops, racial mix-
tures and multiplicity of indus-
tries, a laboratory model or
microcosm of the western por-
tion of the continent.
To be sure, there is no Mont
Blanc, but the Ardennes hills
on a white winter’s day offer
a satisfactory small substi-
tute. Neither the Meuse, the
Sambre, nor the Lys could
masquerade as a Danube or a
Rhine, but in proportion to the gen-
eral architecture of ■ die country
they seem most convincing moving-
waters.
The mind and eye of the sojourn-
er subtly adapt themselves to the
fact that distances and heights here
are all on a scaled-down basis. The
same phenomenon is often experi-
enced at a marionette show—the
observer finds himself really believ-
ing that the miniature scene is life-
size.
Smaller than the state of Mary-
land, but with a population of more
than eight million, Belgium stands
out as Europe’s most densely peo-
pled country. It is divided into nine
provinces: West and East Flan-
ders, Hainaut, Brabant, Antwerp,
Namur, Liege, Limbourg, and Lux-
embourg—which must not be con-
fused with that other Luxembourg,
the little independent Grand Duchy.
Too Small for Aviators.
The longest straightaway stretch
within Belgium’s borders is a mere
170 miles. With seven-league boots
you could cross it in eight steps.
Student flyers at the military air-
ports complain that, with the mod-
ern high-speed aircraft, they cannot
get properly under way in any
direction without the annoyance of
zooming over a frontier and the pos-
sibility of earning a scolding from
a neighboring government.
The Flanders plain is broken at
Brussels into rolling hills. Nature
was not content that the future capi-
tal should lie spread out on an un-
inspiring level. Like Rome, it was
built on seven hills. There were
seven founding families. And in the
heyday of its walled splendor the
city boasted of seven gates.
Along the top of an eminence runs
the Rue Royale, Brussels’ Fifth ave-
nue, affording a sweeping view of
the lower town. In order that this
outlook might not be obstructed in
the vicinity of the Royal palace, a
regulation has long existed that at
this point no building could be erect-
ed higher than the street level.
This has brought into being one of
the world’s unique architectural
oddities, the new Palais des Beaux
Arts, center of Brussels’ musical
and artistic life. This labyrinthine
Structure clings like a giant wasp
to the side of the hill, all at a level
beldw the line of the Rue Royale—
a Rockefeller Center in reverse.
Many Cities in One.
Greater Brussels, with 900,000 in-
habitants, comprises 15 contiguous
suburbs or communes, each hav-
ing its own burgomaster and munic-
ipal organization. Only recently
has there been co-operation among
them, though they formed in reality
one city. Great was the confusion
before teamwork was agreed upon.
The Ardennes district, represent-
ing almost one-fourth of Belgium’s
area, consists principally of richly
forested ridge and valley.
The great percentage of the trees
are beech, with dwarf oak running
close second. The twigs of these
trees in late winter take on a pinky-
azure tint which imparts an effect
of fairyland unreality to the sharply
broken hill contours. Pines have
been transplanted from the Scandi-
navian countries.
During many generations the Ar-
dennes district sank to a point of
almost negative crop production. In
recent years, however, thanks to
scientific chemical treatment of the
soil, the fertility of the land has
been enormously increased. Oats
and potatoes are the principal
Near Rochefort are the Grottoes
of Han, which need only a P. T.
Barnum to give them rank as world
wonders. At some period when the
earth was young, they were hoi-
■
p
The script of "Their Son” had
reached Mary the second morning
after the drive to Westchester with
Phillip Buchanan, and the very
sight of the long envelope in which
it came, and the printed rejection
slip that automatically had been en-
closed, sent a wave of nausea over
her. There was a small fire burn-
ing on the hearth in the living room,
the March morning being chill; and
Mary, seeing that Aunt Linnie was
engrossed in her mail, stepped to
the hearth, and dropped the script
on the burning logs.
“That’s that!” she told herself.
“I never want to see the thing
again. It’ll only remind me of how
futile my efforts are.”
In that same morning mail, there
had come a letter from Janet Lor-
ing; and Mary, seeking what pri-
vacy she could, seated herself in
the wing-chair by the window, and
slit it open with a hairpin.
Mary Dear:
I am getting more and more worried
about Dad every day. Ha la to terribly
discouraged, and as yet not one ray of
hope has come our way concerning a
position for him. Also, he is not well,
and has contracted a hacking cough
that keeps him awaae night after night
I've urged him to go see Doctor Cragg.
who's back from his honeymoon, you
know, but Dad always says, "Oh. it's
nothing. I'll be better tomorrow." I
know, however, the truth of the matter
is—he's afraid of what the doctor will
tell him, and also he feels be can't
spend the money even on such a neces-
sary thing.
He won’t tell me how much money
we have left tn the bank, but I know it
must be practically gone—after Pete’s
opentton two years ago. sad what Dad' s
had to draw for expenses lately.
Morning after morning, ho leaves the
house right after breakfast. Just as he's
done for twenty-five years, when there
really was some work to be going to.
Each morning he bathes and shaves
and dresses so carefully, and there actu-
ally seems to be some hope tn his face;
but he always comes back to noon din-
ner, and again for supper, with no news
to tell us. and a look of defeat in his
eyes,
I've come to the conclusion that we
ought to tell Linnie about our affairs,
ask her for a loan. Five hundred dol-
lars would be a life-saver for us- right
now—would give Dad some relief until
he can find a position; but when I men-
tion this to him,' his face gets red, and
he says. "No. Jenny. We haven't come
to that yet. I don't mind your sister's
sending you valuable presents, and giv-
ing Mary a lovely time In New York,
but I ean’t allow you to ask her for
money to—feed us."
. People don’t seem to like Chris
Cragg s wife very much. I saw her at
Sullivan and Ourwerda's the other day.
and she was being positively rude to
poor Miss Ackley about their line of
chlntxes. I overheard her say, with a
little toss of her head, "I'll simply have
to go to Chicago to get what I want
Why, I ean't even get a decent hair-
cut or manicure."
We're so excited over the news that
your story will appear in The National
Weekly next month. Mr. Chlckering
called up the other night to get the
details, and he's going to print a nice
article about you In the evening paper.
To think my daughter-should be a suc-
cessful author!
Have a good time, darling, and as
long as Dad to so adamant on the sub- •
ject. don't let on to Aunt Linnie in any
manner, shape or form, that we are so
frantic about finances here at home.
Mary read the letter again, her
heart heavy with compassion.
"Have a good time, darling”—
“Don’t let on to Aunt Linnie”—"To
think my daughter should be a suc-
cessful author!” The brave, pitiful
sentences danced about in her tired
mind. “Poor Dad!” she thought.
“Poor Mother! So gallant—so de-
feated! Wanting me not to tell. Want-
ing me to have a good time. Think-
ing me a successful author, when
‘At Sea’ is probably my one and
only story that'll ever see itself in
print.”
Suddenly, unable to bear her
thoughts in the narrow confines of
Aunt Linnie’s home, she jumped to
her feet. “Aunt Linnie,” she be-
tfan, and her voice was breathless.
“I’m going out for a walk.”
Miss Cotswell glanced up from
the announcement of an art exhibit.
“Why, Mary! So early? It’s only
nine o’clock!”
1
< < j ■ < ■: : ' - I
a
• -J.
Belgian Barge Dogs Have Been Used
For Many Years as Guards on Boats
ships bound for America from Bel-
gian ports would steal these dogs
and find a ready market for them.
It is an excellent watchdog, ever
alert and inquisitive and somewhat
suspicious of strangers; and it is
splendid with children.
It is a good hunter of rats, moles
and other vermin, and can be used
to hunt rabbits.
It is hardy and easy to care for.
Altogether it is an attractive, busi-
nesslike little dog, ideal for the
small house or apartment, and pos-
sessed of sufficient reserve to classi-
fy it in the one-man category.
The breed is listed as non-sport-
ing, and not as a toy or terrier.
Animals and Mammals
All mammals are animals; com-
paratively few animals possess the
characteristics necessary for dassi-
fication as mammals. Mammate
comprise the highest class of ani-
mals. Their outstanding character-
istic is that they nourish their young
With milk. Mammals are covered
more or lets with hair, possess
mammary glands, a muscular dia-
phragm which separates the heart
and lungs from the abdominal cav-
ity, and red blood corpuscles with-
out nuclei.
v
________________________________________________________________________________________________ 1
■BJF
wNHi
' ML
Kiw
Upcoming Pages
Here’s what’s next.
Search Inside
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
The Lampasas Daily Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 36, No. 29, Ed. 1 Saturday, April 8, 1939, newspaper, April 8, 1939; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1254072/m1/2/?q=%22%22~1: accessed August 15, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Lampasas Public Library.