Palacios Beacon (Palacios, Tex.), Vol. 32, No. 52, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 28, 1939 Page: 3 of 8
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PALACIOS BEACON, PALACIOS, TEXAS
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By
MARTHA
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CHAPTER XII—Continued
—16—
Florian shot Autumn a quick look
from beneath lowered brows. "It's
Bruce Landor, of course," he said,
with a sharp inflection bitten with
hopelessness.
Autumn avoided his eyes, her gaze
upon the window where, the curtains
drawn back, the redolent, piny air
of the mountains drifted gently in-
ward.
"I knew it," he said disconso-
lately. "I've known it for weeks.
That's why you're going away.
You're running away from him."
Autumn got up and stood by the
window, looking out across the hills
where evening was already settling
down. She had been standing there
a long time, neither of them speak-
ing, when Florian got impatiently
out of his chair.
"Let's eat!" he said suddenly.
"You're probably starved."
She looked at him and smiled dim-
ly. "I could do with a little some-
thing," she agreed. "What is
there? I'll get it ready."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," he
retorted. "You'll sit down and have
cnother drink while I fry the bacon
end eggs."
Fifteen minutes later, they were
seated amicably across from each
other at the little table before the
fireplace, feasting on bacon and
eggs, bread and butter and marma-
lade, and the really excellent coffee
Florian had made. Florian, remark-
ing with a derisive smile that they
might as well have it as romantic as
possible, had made a fire in the fire-
place and had moved the prosaic
lamp to a secluded alcove.
Their talk was desultory' and was
concerned chiefly with the Parrs,
since Autumn was reluctant to speak
of her impending journey. Linda,
he told her, had found herself a new
passion, the object of which was a
bemedaled war veteran who had
come to the Okanagan and bought
himself a fruit ranch.
"Just a matter of changing from
sheep to fruit for Lin," he remarked.
"It's great to have an easy con-
science."
And so they talked in quiet amia-
bility, while the firelight flickered
pleasantly on the ruddy pine beams
of the ceiling and coquetted with
the shadows that lurked about the
furnishings.
Ever since Autumn had left that
morning, an inexplicable sadness
had lain upoi Jarvis Dean, a heavi-
ness of heart that was more than
mere regret at her going. She would
be back again tomorrow, he told
himself, and they would still have a
few brief days together before she
left the Castle for good. It would
be for good this time, and when he
joined her in England in the fall,
that would be his own farewell to
this land in which he had known
the heights and depths of all pas-
sions. Searching his heart for the
cause of his melancholy, he came
with acute anguish upon the- truth.
Jarvis Dean had reached an end—
an end of everything that had really
mattered in life. An abyss of noth-
ingness yawned before him.
Without these stark hills and un-
guessable valleys that had witnessed
with silent compassion the drama
of his life, he would be as a player
upon a stage without an audience.
Frequently during the day, his
eyes had roved hungrily over the
noble prospect that had been his
for more than a quarter of a cen-
tury. By toil of mind and body and
soul he had made it his own, and
his being, in turn, had been deliv-'
ered over in its entirety to the mag-
nitude of this earth.
All that he had known of joy and
sorrow, hatred and love, the saga
of his failure and triumph, was writ-
ten across the bright tablet of this
land, inscrutable to all but himself;
when he left it his epitaph would be
graven there.
The sun marked noon, and the
less explicit hours of the west. To-
ward the latter end of the day Jar-
vis went on foot to the temporary
camp where his young Irish herder,
Clancy Shane, was tending the few
hundred sheep he had brought down
from the range to be sold. It had
been a matter of great pride to the
boy that he had brought the band
down single-handed and Jarvis had
expressed his dry pleasure by rais-
ing the lad's salary.
In a wooded hollow before he
reached the rise from which the
flock could be seen, Jarvis halted
abruptly to listen. An unwonted
clamor of excited barking was com-
ing from the direction of the flock,
mingled with the mad bleat of sheep.
In alarm, Jarvis scrambled up
through the woods to the crest,
where a furious spectacle met his
eyes.
The low, red sun shone obliquely
across a turbulent, livid sea of gray
bodies, a sea which, while Jarvis
stared at it aghast, seemed to be-
come a vortox spinning closer and
closer to the brink of a deep arroyo,
a sandy cleft in the ground that had
been washed deeper by freshets of
the last spring. The dog, in a fren-
zy, was striving to head the crazed
flock away from the danger. Sud-
denly the Irish lad leaped into the
maelstrom and began beating his
way toward the churning center.
Jarvis shouted a hoarse warning and
began to run.
Before he reached the arroyo,
however, the outer fringe of the
band had run off tangent-wise and
were plunging headlong into the gap-
ing earth. Instantly the whirlpool
broke, the main body of it follow-
ing the mad course of the first few
into the arroyo. When Jarvis came
at last and looked over the edge of
the cleft, he found the pit filling with
writhing, kicking, screaming bod-
ies. A few had escaped and were
straggling up the steep bank, bleat-
ing dementedly, their oblique, crazy
eyes aglare.
In the thick of the struggle, flail-
ing out with both arms and sobbing
frantically, Clancy Shane bobbed
about, with hideous ludicrousness,
like a cork. Jarvis yelled to him
and plunged down the embankment,
hurling out of his way the few half-
stunned animals that rushed up at
him. With all the strength of his
powerful frame he fought his way
to the boy, lifted him bodily above
the descending stream of gray
forms, and flung him free.
As he did so, a dozen grizzled
shapes came down upon him and
Jarvis fell back among them.
Bruce Landor was driving home
from town. On a sharp decline in
the road where it approached the
Dean place, his gaze was arrested
by a wild figure that rushed fren-
ziedly toward him, apparently from
nowhere. Bruce drew to the side of
the road and stopped his car. The
madman was young Clancy Shane.
The boy collapsed against the run-
ning board, his breath a raucous
wheeze. Bruce leaped from his car
and lifted him to a sitting position.
"What's wrong, Clancy?" he de-
manded.
The boy flung out an arm toward
the pasture. "Over yonder!" he
gasped. "The master—in the gully!
Go quick!"
With only a swift glance of hor-
ror into the blood-stained face of
the youth, Bruce sped away.
The sight that met his eyes in the
arroyo froze his veins. There was a
scattering of sheep, running and
bleating idiotically still, with the dog
valiantly struggling to bring them
together. But across the gap in the
earth there had risen a solid isth-
mus of dead or dying bodies. Of
Jarvis Dean himself there was no
sign. Bruce stood in stony horror.
The sheep lay in the arroyo, ten
deep.
Two men came running from the
direction of the Dean place.
A strange quiet seemed to have
fallen upon that land, when—it
seemed to Bruce an eternity later—
the western sky drew down an em-
erald curtain upon the glory that
had been there. Three men stood
back from their work, their bodies
wet, and lowered their heads. The
battered, still form of Jarvis Dean
lay where they had placed it on the
ground at their feet.
Clancy Shane had told them the
brief and tragic story of what had
occurred. An eagle had flown down
on the flock and terrorized a few
stragglers that had wandered a
short distance from the others. They
had raced back and spread the con-
tagion of fear in the flock. The rest
of the story they could read for
themselves in the havoc that had
been wrought during the brief mo-
ments of the hopeless struggle.
Hannah, in the kitchen of the Cas-
tle, lifted her tear-drenched face
from her hands. "You will have to
go and fetch her, Bruce," she
sobbed. "She is stopping the night
with the Parrs at their lodge. You
know the place?"
Bruce looked down at her. "Yes—
I know where it is," he replied.
"Will you go, then?"
His lips tightened. "I'll go," he
said.
In a few moments he was on his
way, the dusk thickening about him
as he sped along the winding trail
that led southward into the moun-
tains. Two hours later he climbed
up out of the troublous dark heat of
the valley into the sheer, cool star-
light of the hills. Now the road be-
came narrow and capricious, and the
black spires of the dense pines made
a cathedral ominousness against the
sky. How like Autumn, Bruce
thought with frowning admiration,
to have driven over this road alonel
One false swerve of the wheel and
she would have been at the mercy of
this solitary wilderness until some-
one found her and brought her out.
He strove to keep his mind on the
deviousness of the way so that he
might be possessed of a measure of
composure for the difficult task that
lay before him. He was glad, with
a self-effacing bleakness, that her
friends were with her—Linda Parr
and Florian. They would be able to
offer her comfort, as he himself was
not qualified to do.
He had telephoned to Hector Car-
digan from the Dean place. It had
seemed proper that Hector should
be the first to be informed of the
tragedy—and, if possible, to break
the news to Autumn. Bruce would
have given much to have had the
old friend of the family with him on
this sorry mission, but Hector had
not been at home and Hannah had
urged that the tragic news should
be carried to Autumn without delay.
The road began to steepen treach-
erously as Bruce approached the
comparatively open shelf on the
mountain where the Parr Lodge
stood. From somewhere in the
shrouded darkness far above him
came the sinister, feral wail of a
cougar, a trailing sound of wounded
malevolence. Closer at hand an owl
hooted as though in mockery of that
other more menacing cry of the
wild.
A gleam of light through the dark
weft of the pines, and Btuce was
driving in at the open gateway to
the lodge. He turned his car about,
deferring for a painful moment the
duty that was before him, and for-
mulating in his mind, with all the
gentleness he could muster, the dol-
orous words that he must speak. As
he got down from his car he could
hear a door opening in the lodge
behind him. A moment later he
was face to face with Florian Parr.
Even in that instant, when his dis-
tress of mind was uppermost, Bruce
detected embarrassment in Flor-
ian's manner.
"Hello, Florian," he said as he
extended his hand.
Florian took the proffered hand in
a brief clasp, then seemed to draw
back hesitantly. "Bruce!" he ex-
claimed softly. "You're the last per-
son I expected to see here tonight."
Bruce glanced toward the house.
"I've come with some pretty bad
"Lin isn't here," Florian said
heavily.
news, Florian," he said in a low
tone. "Autumn's father was killed
this evening."
Florian fell back a step. "Killed?
Good God! How?"
"He was over visiting the flock
young Shane brought out to be sold.
The boy says an eagle frightened
the sheep and they got to milling.
Shane tried to break up the jam and
they got into a ditch on top of him.
Jarvis jumped in and saved the boy
—but he never got out of it him-
self."
Florian ran his hand across his
brow, speechless from shock. Bruce
saw him glance abstractedly toward
the house.
"My God!" he groaned at last.
"This will just about kill Autumn!"
"You'd better go in and fetch
Lin," Bruce said tersely. "She'll be
the best one to break the news to
her."
But Florian was regarding him in
blank consternation. Bruce, puzzled,
began to feel an impatience at- his
singular attitude.
"There's no sense in delaying it,
Florian," he said harshly. "She has
to be told. And Lin is the one to
talk to her."
As he spoke he glanced toward the
house. It came to him that there
was something strange about the
place. It seemed deserted, some-
how, and although the windows were
open no voices came out to them
from within.
"Lin isn't here," Florian said
heavily. "Autumn and I are alone."
Bruce stared at Florian through
the gloom with eyes that seemed to
go dim and lifeless with the dull
flush that had suffused his whole
being after that first sharp stab of
incredulity.
"Oh!" he said then, in a voice
thai had died before the sound is-
sued. "Oh—I see!"
Florian's face was turned toward
him ir the darkness. For a moment
he did not reply. "You don't see at
all, you damn fool!" he broke forth
at last. "Lin couldn't get here. We
were just getting ready to leave
when we heard your car coming up
the hill. If you think—"
"Shut up!" Bruce rasped. "You
don't have to apologize to me. Go
in and tell her. She's needed at
home—tonight. I'll drive ahead. I
don't think I can be of any more
use."
With his fists doubled up so that
his nails were like blades in his
palms, Bruce tore himself away. He
had experienced for the first time in
his life the exhilarating and horrible
impulse to kill. Blindly he staggered
to his car, swung it through the gate
so that it lurched crhzily toward the
brink of the trail before he righted
it. then paused to await the sounds
that told him that Florian and Au-
tumn had started from the lodge.
All the way back down into the
valley, with the shameless and
heartbreaking sound of that other
car following behind him, it seemed
to Bruce that the stars rocketed
through a delirious sky, and that
the night with its burden of mad-
ness would descend and annihilate
him.
CHAPTER XIII
Strange, Autumn thought with the
objective detachment that emotional
exhaustion brings, how this gold and
white drawing room that had been
Millicent's preserved its aloof and
reticent singularity, impervious to
any unwonted experience of the oth-
er quarters of the house. She sat
huddled listlessly in a deep chair,
part of her consciousness attending
Hannah, who was bidding a smoth-
ered good-by at the front door, to
Snyder, the lawyer, the other part
aimlessly adrift on that curiously
attenuated sunlight that filled the
room. Sunlight—no shadows here,
in the room that had been peculiar-
ly Millicent's! How oddly ironical!
Even now, when the rest of the
house seemed to mourn in sympathy
with the Laird's deserted study up-
stairs, where Saint Pat alone kept
his dumb, broken-hearted vigil, this
room was a mystically serene de-
nial of death. Or, rather, it was an
affirmation of life beyond temporal
things.
Autumn pressed her fingers against
her eyes at the feeling of lighthead-
edness that was coming over her.
The ordeal of listening to Snyder
read her father's will had undone
her completely. And that extraordi-
nary codicil, that footnote that he
had written into it to Bruce Landor
only a short time since—
But here came Hannah, with a
steaming pot of tea! Snyder had
refused tea—had helped himself gen-
erously to the Laird's choice brandy,
instead. Funny how resentful one
could become, in times of emotional
upheaval, over a small and irrele-
vant thing!
She glanced at the tiny watch that
hung on a cord about her neck. Hec-
tor Cardigan would be here again
soon. He had been coming faith-
fully every day, and now she felt
that without him she would be ut-
terly lost.
A shadow, unobtrusive, gentle, fell
across the threshold, and Hector en-
tered through the French windows
from the lawn. Autumn rose and
drew another chair close to her own
beside the low table on which Han-
nah, with a silence that marked her
own personal grief and not the de-
corum of a servant in the house of
bereavement, had placed the tea
things. With pale humor, Autumn
had noted how Hannah had taken
the loss of her master unto herself,
after a due observance of the ame-
nities in consoling the master's
daughter.
Hannah withdrew noiselessly, and
Hector seated himself beside Au-
tumn.
"One sugar, I believe, Hector!"
she said, with an effort at brisk-
ness. "And lemon?"
"Quite so," Hector returned.
Her very hands, she thought as
she poured the tea with an uncon-
trollable tremble, seemed to have
lost their character. They looked
weak and purposeless.
Setting her cup on the table be-
side her, she leaned back in her
chair and Closed her eyes. "I'm
adrift, Hectcr," she murmured.
"Absolutely adrift."
"Now, now, my dear," Hector
stammered. "Life must go on, child.
Even after—aftei terrible things
happen to us."
"Life must go on? Why?" She
opened her eyes and gazed at him,
as though in genuine wonderment.
Hector shifted uneasily. He looked
worn and shaken, she thought with
idle compassion. His friendship for
Jarvis had been a long and tried
one; he was the only living being
who had witnessed the extraordina-
ry drarr..", of that ill-starred soul
trom beginning to end. Perhaps it
was unfair to inflict upon poor Hec-
tor the irony of the epilogue.
"That is an absurd question, Au-
tumn," Hector said gruffly. "The
daughter of the Laird will go on.
You are shocked and exhausted, my
dear—"
"I have not been the daughter of
the Laird for a long time," Autumn
interrupted in a pensive voice. "I
know now that father died twenty
years ago. The ghost of him came
back now and then—and on one of
those visits he wrote a note in his
will to Bruce Landor."
Hector started. "A note?"
Autumn rose slowly and went to
the desk at the farther end or the
room, where Snyder had sat with
her end Hannah a half hour ago.
When she returned she held an en-
velope in her hand. She removed
from it a narrow sheet of paper.
"Father must have written this on
the bottom of his will immediately
after Bruce came to visit him one
day, at father's request. Snyder
could make neither head nor tail of
it, ci course. We shall have to give
it to Bruce."
Hector took the paper from her
hand.
He read, in the Laird's bold, im-
patient hand: "To Bruce Landor, the
admission that I may have been
wrong in many things. At this mo-
ment's writing I seem to see a light.
But it flickers and goes out, leaving
an old man in darkness. I cannot
help it if T blunder through the night
that envelops me. Life has played
me false, making of me that which
I would ijot be."
For some seconds Hector sat look-
ing attentively at the writing. Then
his eyes lifted and Autumn was sur-
prised at the solemn radiance of his
face. It was a look of relief, almost
of happiness.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Improved
Uniform
International
SUNDAY
SCHOOL
• LESSON1*
By HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST. D. D.
Dean of The Moody Bible Institute
of Chicago.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Lesson for December 31
Lesson subjects and Scrlpturc texts se-
lected and copyrighted by International
Council of Religious Education; used by
permission.
FRIENDS AND FOES OF THE
KINGDOM
LESSON TEXT—Matthew 13:54—14:4;
15:29-31.
GOLDEN TEXT—Ye are my friends.
If ye do whatsoever I command you.—
John 15:14.
Inventory time has come, and it
seems that our lesson for today, al-
though it does come in the middle
of our study of the Gospel of Mat-
thew, comes too to sort of a pause
to consider what has been the re-
sult of that which Jesus had said
and done thus far in our study.
The answer we firjd is that He had
both friends and foes, both love and
hatred. His foes apparently out-
numbered His friends, and the ha-
tred was evidently fierce arid the
love none too warm. So Jesus was
defeated? No, far from it. As we
know, He won the victory over His
enemies.
The situation is not different to-
day. Those who follow Jesus and
love Him truly are quite evidently
in the minority and all too often it
seems that hatred for the fcause cf
Christ has the upper hand. Are we
defeated? No, Jesus will ultimately
win the victory again. We are en
the winning side.
I. Dishonored Bccause of Jealousy
(13:54-58).
One would have supposed that the
people of the little, almost unknown
town of Nazareth would have been
thrilled at the return of its native
son whose fame had also spread its
name abroad and whose name was
on the lips of thousands because He
went about doing good.
They were astonished, but they
were not ready to accept Him. They
could not deny the fact either of His
person or His power, but they could
and did permit their personal pride
and jealousy to lead them to deny
Him. "This story teaches us the un-
utterable folly of refusing to accept
fact because it is astonishing, yet
there are thousands of people stand-
ing in that position today concerning
Jesus Christ. It is utterly unscien-
tific, not to say irreligious. Here is
an astonishing thing. They say
we cannot understand how this man
hath this wisdom. Has He the wis-
dom? Why, yes, we cannot escape
it. Then in the name of God and
common honesty obey the injunc-
tion and postpone the investigation"
(G. Campbell Morgan).
II. Hated Because of Sin (14:1-4).
The pride of heart which causes
many to hold themselves too good
to follow the lowly Nazarene is sin.
There is also that which even the
world recognizes as sin which sep-
arates men from Christ. D. L.
Moody is said to have written on
the fly leaf of his Bible, "This book
will keep you from sin, or sin will
keep you from this book." That is
true, and it is also true that sin
will keep a man from Christ.
Herod, living in sin, had been re-
buked by John and had silenced his
accuser by the simple expedient of
imprisonment and ultimately by be-
heading him. But one does not thus
put away sin, and when this man
heard of Jesus, he at once assumed
that John had risen from the dead
to plague him still. So Herod also
took his place with the enemies of
our Lord. ....
j\/IAKE yourself this pretty prin-
cess (8576) for town wear,
business and general runabout, in
a dark shade or your favorite
bright color. The double collar
and cuffs give you a chance to
work out daring and delightful
contrasts, in a season when ad-
venturous color combinations are
so extremely smart. And you can
; trust this dress to make your fig-
] ure look slim and youthful, small
and supple at the waist. Mate-
rials like faille, moire, flat crepe
and velveteen are excellent
choices for this.
If you've done scarcely any sew-
ing, this design is heartily recom-
mended as a good one to begin on»
because it's so easy. A step-by-
step sew chart is included to hell*
you.
Pattern No. 8576 is designed for
sizes 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, and 40. Size
14 requires 4% yards of 39-incis
material without nap; % yard con-
trasting for each collar and cuffs,-.
% yard ribbon.
For a pattern of this attractive
model send 15 cents in coins, your
name, address, style, number andi
size to The Sewing Circle Pattern*
Dept., Room 1324, 211 W. Wacke*
Dr., Chicago, 111.
Strange Facts
f
'Black-Out' Lights
Street Car Diners
Immortal Trees
!
For "black-outs" during air
raids, England has perfected high-
way and traffic lights, headlights
and police uniforms that can b®
seen only by those on the groundJ
Geneva, Switzerland, has street-
cars whose entire space is given,
over to restaurants in which the-
passengers eat and drink as they
travel through the city.
A study of marital tendenciesi
reveals that a much larger num-
ber of widowed and divorced mem
marry spinsters than widowed and!
divorced women marry bachelors-
Many navies now use a torpedo
that appears to be aimed at a point
far ahead or far behind its target
but, after going some distance,
suddenly makes a right or left
swing and strikes before its ol>
jective can turn away.
The giant redwood trees in Calfc
fornia and Oregon have nevej
been known to die a natural death*
—Collier's.
AROUND
the HOUSE 1^1
Items of Interest
to the Housewife
When baiting: the mousetrap, re-
member that foods mice prefer to
cheese include chocolate, peanuts
and pork chops.
♦ * *
For Dried Fruits.—Try soaking
and cooking a thin slice or two of
lemon with your dried apricots,
peaches or prunes.
* * *
Plan meals in advance, with con-
cern for the use of leftovers, which
will aid in saving energy in prep-
aration.
* « *
Stored Potatoes—Potatoes stored
in too cold a place change some of
their starch to sugar, and when a
potato has accumulated consider-
able sugar it won't fry well.
Prosecutor Had Grounds
For Objection, It Appears
If a man shows his opposition to
Christ, whether it be by indiffer-
ence, or by jealousy, or in outright
hatred, be sure there is sin in that
man's life. Those who love right-
eousness love the righteous Lord.
III. Accepted Because of Serv-
ice (15:29-31).
"The Son of man came not to be
ministered unto but to minister,"
even to the giving of "his life a
ransom for many" (Matt. 20:28).
We have so overemphasized and
misused the word service that one
almost hesitates to speak it in con-
nection with the name of the Lord
Jesus. Yet it does summarize His
earthly life and ministry. He served
the needy with His teaching and
preaching, with His provision for
their daily needs, with His healing
touch, and we read that they won-
dered and glorified God (v. 31).
We said above that the majority
of men appear to reject Christ, but
that does not mean that He has no
friends. "The communion of saints"
is made up of a great and almost
numberless host, including in its
ranks the finest and most distin-
guished men and women of all ages
who gladly stand side by side with
the humblest of believers to be
counted for the Lord Jesus.
As a means of encouraging men
and women everywhere to follow
Christ as they find Him in His Word,
the writer of these notes will send
without charge a folder, "The Why
and How of Bible Reading," includ-
ing a Bible-reading calendar for
the entire year. Use the name and
address at the head of this column
and if possible enclose a stamped
addressed envelope or a three-cent
stamp.
—Counsel for the defense was
cross-examining tne wttrre-sj-;—a-
lovely blonde with big blue eyes,
"Where were you," he thun-
dered, "on Monday night!"
The blonde smiled sweetly.
"Out for a run in a car."
"And where were you," bel-
lowed counsel, "on Tuesday
night?"
"Out for a run in a car."
Counsel leaned closer.
"And what," he said, "are you
doing tomorrow night?"
Prosecuting counsel leaped to
his feet.
"Your Honor," he protested, "I
object to that question."
"And why do you object?"
"Because I asked her first!"
Means of Utterance
Utterance is not confined to
words. Our souls speak as signifi-
cantly by looks, tones or gestures
—the subtle vehicles of our more
delicate emotions, as they do by
set words and phrases. Indeed,
the soul has a thousand ways of
communicating itself.—Turnbull.
Cane-bottomed chairs that have
sagged can be tightened by be-
ing well scrubbed with a soapy
mixture containing a handful oJ
salt. Allow to dry, then paint with
a strong solution of salt and water
and dry again, if possible out ofi
doors.
» * • « j
Washing Shirts.—To loosen that
dirt on cuff and collar bands oJ!
men's and boys' shirts, scrub therm
with a soft brush frequently
dipped in warm soapy water be»
fore putting them in the laundry
tub. ,
• » » i ,1
Chocolate and orange flavor*
blend well. Add orange extract to
chocolate frosting or candy. Try
covering a chocolate cake with
orange frosting.
When making a meringue have
the egg whites very cold and beat
them until stiff enough to stand
-atone If baked in too hot an oven.
meringue will be tough and shrink
when set away to cool. .
* « • I
When washing a white silk
blouse or jumper to which yoa
want to give a little stiffness, add
a few lumps of sugar to the rinsing
water, roll tightly in a clean towe^
and iron while still damp. i
How To Relieve
Bronchitis
Bronchitis, acute or chronic, Is an
Inflammatory condition of the mu-
cous membranes lining the bronchial
tubes. Creomulsion goes right to tbe
seat of the trouble to loosen genre
laden phlegm, increase secretion an<l
aid nature to soothe and heal raw.
tender, Inflamed bronchial mucous
membranes. Tell your druggist to seB
you a bottle of Creomulsion with tlw
understanding that you are to like
the way it quickly allays the cougb
or you are to have your money back.
CREOMULSION
for Coughs, Chest Colds, Bronchitis
Choosing Your Words
Say what is true and < jvhat is
pleasant. Do not say what is-j>leas-
ant and not true, nor what is tj-ue
and not pleasant.—Manu ,
The Housewife • •
-"Research Professor of Economy"-
SHE'S not a Ph.D. or an LL.D. She hasn't a diploma or a cap and gown.
Her research is not done in the laboratory or the library As a matter
oi fact, her findings are made, usually, in the street car, in the subway,
in the suburban commuter's train.
She reads the advertisements in this paper with care and considera-
tion They form her research data. By means of them she makes her
purchases so that she well deserves the title of "Research Professor ol
Economy " She discovers item after item, as the years roll on, combin-
ing high quality with low.
It is clear to you at once that you . . . and all who make and keep
a home . . . have the same opportunity. With the help of newspaper
advertising you, too, can graduate from the school of indiscriminate
buying into the faculty of fastidious purchases 1
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Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Dismukes, Mrs. J. W. Palacios Beacon (Palacios, Tex.), Vol. 32, No. 52, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 28, 1939, newspaper, December 28, 1939; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth412169/m1/3/?q=%22%22~1: accessed July 9, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Palacios Library.