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✓ t McCORMICK MESSENGER, McCORMICK, SOUTH CAROLINA Thursday, July 29, 1937 messenger Published Every Thursday Established June 5, 1902 EDMOND J. McCRACKEN, Editor and Owner Entered at the Post Office at Mc Cormick, S. C., as mail matter of the second class. •CBSCRIPTION RATES: One Year $1.00 Six Months 75 Three Months -50 Feed Out Pies For Fall Market Florence, July 17.—“Hog prices have already advanced on the large markets and higher than usual prices from now until fall are ex pected, and it would! seem advis able for farmers to put spring pigs on full feed as soon as possible in order to get them on the market before the fall decline in prices begins”, says A. L. DuRant, ex tension livestock specialist. “This peak in prices in recent years has been about the last of August or the first of September, with a marked drop by October. “In feeding out these spring pigs green soybeans will save consid- ' erable grain, and corn and soy beans may be hogged down to ad vantage. Fishmeal or a mixture of one-half fishmeal and cottonseed meal should be fed along with the corn”, he advises. Explaining the basis for his rec ommendations, DuRant points out these facts: The report of the spring pig crop released as of June 1 shows that 38,799,000 pigs were farrowed this spring, which is 7.3 per cent less than the number saved during the same period of 1936 and, except for 1935, the lowest in many years. This short pig crop was due to the short com crop last year, which caused farmers to breed fewer sows for spring farrow. This will mean fewer hogs to market this fall. With a good com crop in the com belt this year, a larger than usual proportion of the gilts will be kept for breeding purposes, thus further reducing the number of hogs avail able for market. There are usually seasonal changes in hog prices. Hogs are cheaper in the winter when many hogs are going on the market. There is usually a rise in the spring after the heavy winter run and again in the early fall before the heavy shipments begin. If corn !prospects continue favorable (and they are better than average now), hog slaughter from now through September will quite likely be ap preciably smaller than during the corresponding months of last year. txx Cottonseed Meal Is Good Protein Source For Chick Rations Clemson, July 17.—Recent ex periments at the Poultry Depart ment of the South Carolina Ex periment Station here indicate that good quality cottonseed meal is entirely satisfactory as a source of vegetable protein for growing chicks and pullets, according to Dr. R. C. Ringrose, assistant- poultry husbandman of the station. “Since the protein supplement is one of the most expensive in gredients in poultry mashes”, says Dr. Ringrose, “the poultryman is always interested in sources of this nutrient which are less costly. As animal protein supplements gen erally cost more than the vegetable protein supplements, the cost of the ration can generally be lower ed by using a combination of equal parts of protein from animal and vegetable sources. Hence the im portance of these tests with cotton seed meal. ■ In theso experiments”. Dr. Ring- re.: expla : ns. “cottonseed meal v"’- tri replace one-half the r'?rt oe-riT) protein in the ration. At th: end of eight weeks the V7h! c Leghorn chicks on the meat scran and cottonseed meal ration averaged 1.3 pounds and those on the meat scrap ration averaged 1 7 pounds. “As a general rule it is not ad visable to replace more than one- 0 holf t’-o animal proteins with those from vegetable sources.” Many Famous Personages Born in Summer Months Are you a genius? For all you know you may be, and if you were bom in April, May, June, or July your chances of fame are much higher than if you were born in dark December. These conclusions are the result of large-scale investigations by American biologists who have ex amined the careers of 10,000 famous English men and women. By far the greatest number of them were born between April and July, while the worst birth month for possible English geniuses is December, says Pearson’s London Weekly. According to investigators, weath er and climate play, an important part in shaping the mental develop ment of the unborn child. The rhythm of climatic change affects our glands, and the human body responds so as to adjust itself to the weather. This mysterious change affects the child as much as the mother, and in some way, as yet unknown, the child’s brain is in creased or retarded by the action of the glands. But don’t despair simply because you are a winter child. Possibilities of genius may seem attractive, but they are accompanied by an equal risk of lunacy. The summer baby may be a genius, but he also may be a nit-wit, while the children of winter months stand a far greater chance of growing up into normal, easy-going citizens. It has also been found that the birthplace is an important factor. In America, for example, where the seasons are the same as in England, the largest numbers of famous peo ple have birthdays in October, Nov ember, and December—quite differ ent from the English months of genius. Marks of Past Illness Shown by Hair and Nails Signs of past illness often re main long after the illness has end ed. These are to be found where the circulation is poorest, viz., in the hair and the nails, says a writer in Pearson’s London Weekly. After a severe illness, you will often find that a ridge appears run ning across the nail and growing with it, advancing towards the free end as the nail gets longer. This is due to the fact that the illness has absorbed a good deal of the patient’s strength and the circulation, in con sequence, has not been sufficient to nourish the nails properly. When anyone gets run down in general health, the nails frequently suffer in other ways, especially if the condition is a chronic one. They may become brittle and crack eas ily, while sometimes they are pit ted with small holes as though they had been worm-eaten. To restore the appearance of the nails you must, of course, first re store the general health. The prin cipal cause of the debility must be treated, and when this has been done improvement in the circulation follows. As soon as the nails be gin -again to get proper nourish ment they quickly regain their healthy look. A Skytop Republic Bolivia is known as the skytop re public of South America. With no outlet to the ^ea, it is reached from Mollendo, Peru, and Arica and An tofagasta, Chile. Chief among the country’s attractions are Lake Titi- caea, highest navigable lake in the world; La Paz, the capital, and two towns called Sucre and Potosi. The latter was a fabulously wealthy city long before the Mayflower land ed its settlers in North America. Lake Titicaca’s interest to visitors lies largely in the peculiar beauty of its mirrorlike, rush-fringed wat ers, in the Indian villages surround ing it, and in nearby ruins of cities belonging to the Tiahuanaco civiliza tion, which antedate^ even that of the Inca empire. La Paz, the world’s highest capital, is notable for its spectacular setting 12,000 feet above sea level, in an amphitheater of crinkled, rust colored rocks and mountains; for its attractive old Spanish churches, with their almost constantly ringing campanile bells. Sign of the “Go-Getter” The square type of hand is one in which the back of ^he hand (ex cluding the fingers) almost square in shape. This is the hand of the practical materialist. The man or woman who pushes things through to a decisive conclusion, according to a writer in Pearson’s London Weekly. Possessed of a hand such as this you are determined and forceful, possess little imagination or creative ability, but can be re lied-upon to make a success of any occupation where sheer grit is re quired. Methodical and painstaking, once you get your teeth into a thing, like the bull-dog, you won’t let go. You must see it through. . Woman for President It is often said that Belva Lock- wood, who headed the Equal Rights party ticket in 1884 and again in 1888, was the first woman nominat ed for the Presidency, but Mrs. Victoria Claflin Woodhull (later Marin), was nominated in 1872 for the Presidency at Vineland, N. J., by a convention styling itself the Equal Rights party. Frederick Doug lass was the nominee for Vice Pres ident. Mrs. Woodhull, like Mrs. Lockwood, received no electoral votes and only a few scattered popu lar votes. — .ute supplies rioter anJ Ice From Volcanoi Sometimes Nature supplies powt or nothing. The people of Larde. 'Mo, in the Province of Pisa, Italy ive at the foot of an active volcano Every unit of heat, power, an< : ght used in the town is obtainec Irom its fiery interior, thus savin? the citizens endless expense ant axation. In addition, commercin 'jorax is obtained from “blow lo’es” in the hillside, relates a writ er in London Answers Magazine. The people of Styria, Austria, live beside another kindly mountain. This is “Der Erzberg,” the Iron Mountain, which is 5,000 feet high and contains about 300,000,000 tons of iron ore—fifty per cent of its vol ume. There is another iron mountain in Sweden—Kiirunavaara—which is' 2,- 455 feet high and contains more high-grade iron than any other equal area on earth, for seventy per cent is pure iron. Needless to sny, both these moun tains have been exploited by the communities who live in the vicin ity. Nature has also her own gas works. Medicine Hat, in Alberta, has for years obtained gas and light from inexhaustible subterranean generating stations. There are a number of wells which supply fifty miles of houses and streets. Welland, Ontario, also has a nat ural gas supply, and so has some of the Mid-Western of the United States, but in the latter case gas is sent by pipeline from Texas—where the wells are—800 miles away. Mexico has a volcano that pro duces ice. This is Colima, which sometimes bursts into activity. By some freak, huge hailstones fall continuously round the crater. These are collected in special bins, conveyed to distant towns, and sold in cafes and hotels. Spiked Boots Ban Saved Traverse City Sidewalks His boots were as sacred to a lum berjack in Michigan’s boom timber era as a saddle to a cowboy, but the loggers couldn’t wear them in Traverse City, reveals a Traverse City correspondent in the Detroit Free Press. The city passed an ordinance pro viding a maximum fine of $10 or 10 days in jail for the lumberman who was found wearing spiked boots in the city limits. In the ’80s and the ’90s, there was a good reason for the rule. Traverse City sidewalks then were constructed of wood. After a couple of instances when the city had laid a sidewalk of new white pine and three or four hundred rivermen had come off a drive and riddled it with their spiked boots the city decided to call a halt. The boots, made of the finest kan garoo skin and costing as much as $45 a pair, were purchased in the fall. Through the winter the loggers treated them carefully with mutton tal’cv/, but they never wore them until soring when the drive started. Then the boots went on and stayed on for as long as two months. Why the loggers insisted on wa- tererpof boots when they spent most of the working day waist-deep in the water hasn’t been explained. E!onue~ce of Chief John Logan In addition to Chief John Logan’s famous speech that has been given a permanent place in our histories, he also once wrote a letter that, while it is far from the speech in clocuence, it has nevertheless been held up as one of the more eloquent things ddne by an Indian, says a '.vri*cr in the Cleveland Plain Deal er. Dated July 21, 1774, it was fas tened to a war club and left in the cabin of a slain settler. It read: “What did you kill rhy people on Yellow Creek for? The white people killed my kin at Conestoga a great while ago, and I thought nothing of Ihr.t. But you killed my kin again cr Yellow Creek, and took my cous in prisoner. Then I thought I must kill, too, and I have been three times to v/ar since, but the Indians are not angry, only myself.” Among Coral Formations There are strange alliances down among the coral formations. The sponge-like sea anemones grow to large size in these tropical waters; some are two feet in diameter. They are armed with stinging tentacles, and they feed on small fish and crus taceans which have been shocked helpless by the hair-like darts shot at its victims by the anemone. Cer tain species of tiny fish swim into the apertures in the anemone when danger threatens, and the creature gives them sanctuary and never harms them, permitting them to seek shelter deep down among the death-dealing tentacles. Larger fish o’.iasing them are captured, killed, and eaten by the anemone. Ben Franklin’s Magazine Benjamin Franklin in 1740 planned to issue a general magazine and outlined his project to John Webbe, an attorney, who was to be the edi tor. Webbe revealed the plan to Andrew Bradford, a printer, who proposed to issue a magazine in op position to Franklin’s. On Febru ary 12, 1741, Bradford announced that the first issue of the American Magazine, or a Monthly y.iew of the Political State of the British Colo nies, would be published the next day. On the same day Franklin an nounced that the first issue of the General Magazine would appear in four days. Not for Sale By MARY A. McMAKIN © McClure Newspaper Syndicate. WNU Service. ««P RETTY good, eh! I should say, * rather. But what’s come over Bryce? This is entirely out of his line. Wonderful piece of work, though. Best he’s ever done, and that’s no mean praise.” A group of members was linger ing in the salon of the Art club, dis cussing the fall exhibition which had opened that day with a private showing for “members only.” David Bryce’s “Portrait of a Young Wom an” held chief place in the conversa tion. For the past 10 years Bryce had been exhibiting, and the pub lic was familiar with his pictures of the sea and his boy groups. His work in these two fields was well recognized and appreciated. But on this occasion he had sprung a sur-* prise and the club was buzzing with curiosity. Bryce himself had noth ing to say. “A change is good for one. you know,” he had laughingly reolied when questioned. And that was all. Old Jim the caretaker, however, had his own opinion of “Mister Bryce’s” picture, an opinion which he kept to himself. But some one was written in the stars for David, an altogether de sirable someone, and one day he found her. He was Walking through the business section of the city when he saw a girl with a sun burned nose emerge from an office building. The little patch of red at tracted David and he followed her. The pursuit led through an alley slit between two blocks, down a flight of steps, and into a cafeteria. While he ate, he studied his com panion covertly as she glanced in terestedly about her. Once her eyes rested upon David, quite imperson ally, as they might upon any object confronting them, but David’s heart stood still. They were beautiful eyes, candid and clear. “She’s a dreamer,” thought David, “and her dreams are not ordinary.” When Miss Sunburn arose David reached for his check, although his meal was but half - eaten. Food meant nothing just then. The im portant thing was not to lose sight of her, and David discreetly trailed, following as she took a short walk before returning to her office. For a month this continued, and David had learned a little from his noon-day study. Miss Sunburn loved the sea, for several times her walk had taken her in the direction of the wharves, and he had noticed how her face had lifted to the sharp, salt air; once she had stopped to watch a solitary gull winging its way , above ugly warehouses. She disliked her work, for she seemed to droop, her step lost its springi ness, when she neared the office building. She cared for pictures, for she had cut short her lunch one noon in oruer to view those on ex hibition at one of the art shops. One evening David turned into the River drive for a walk. The sun was just setting. The crimson-and-gold of the sky was reflected in the water, and a rosy glow diffused itself 6ver everything. Suddenly he saw Miss Sunburn. She was standing by the rail looking tt^ard the west. Her face seemed transfigured, lost in contemplation of the loveliness about her. An inspiration came to David. He would paint her. just as he saw her there, for the Fall Exhibition. He worked steadily, grudging the time given to sleep and meals until the portrait was finished. Every line of her face and figure had been brand ed in his heart and the result satis fied even his critical eyes. The can vas, carefully wrapped, was sent to the Art club. The two weeks that followed were weeks of misery for David. He haunted the salon but Miss Sunburn did not come. He stopped going to the cafeteria for fear she might recognize him and spoil his surprise. The last day—would she come? She might be ill—he dared not think that. Half-past five and at six the doors closed. That little wing-tipped hat! Yes, it was. David felt strange ly weak. What would she think of him? Would his daring offend her? He drew nearer, following her until she stood before the picture. They were alone save for one or two stragglers near the door, and Jim. who was busily picking up discarded catalogues and pamphlets. The girl was very quiet standing before the portrait. Then she turned surprised and a little frightened and noticed David. “It is a picture of me, but how did it get here and how could David Bryce know me well enough to paint me like that?” David drew her to a chair. “Don’t be frightened. I am David Bryce. 1 saw you one evening on the River Drive and painted you.” Then with a rush David went on from his first glimpse of the sunburn to the com pletion of the portrait and his fear that she would not come to the ex hibition. Jim had shooed out the stragglers, discreetly overlooking David and his companion. “So that’s the story. Hm! well, there’s one picture that won’t be for sale, though there’d be many a one to buy it. I’ll be wrap- pin’ it up tonight for he’ll be sendin' for it the first thing in the moiwiin’ Them that’s intended for each othei generally finds each other, though it’s queer the way things do hap pen.” And thus ruminating, Jim stumped off in search of burlap. I Managing Mothers By ELOISE C. RIVERS i McClure Newspaper Syndicate. WNU Service. Trim Young Man By DOROTHY MILLS ) McClure Newspaper Syndicate. WNU Service. ly/TRS. CARRUTHERS risked strangulation on a mouthful of pins as, through the bedroom win dow, she saw her youngest daughter pause on the corner. “Goodness!” she exclaimed petu lantly. “I hope Valerie won’t ask Minna Dale to come in. We’re busy enough as it is. I don’t see why Val cultivates the girl, anyway. She’s nobody at all socially.” “Ouch!” returned her next eldest daughter, who was submitting to the torture of having a new gown fitted. “You needn’t stick pins in me because of Val’s rotten taste in chums. She didn’t inherit it from your side, old dear. You have the eye of a hawk when it comes to picking out social lights.” Mrs. Carruthers shrugged weary shoulders at Miss Liscomb, who was helping her sew that day. “Not one! of my daughters appreciates the. sacrifices I go to and the effort I ex-’ pend to keep them in the proper social circle.” “Is it so all-fired necessary?” drawled Beth, slipping into her smart woolen frock. “Absolutely.” Mrs. Carruthers’ thin lips snapped on the word. “I; wish, young Miss, I had had a moth er to manage for me, when I was your age. I might have made a successful marriage.” Since she had come to Fairview, many years before, a grief-stricken widow with five lovely, half-grown daughters, she had moved in the most select circles. Three girls had already made bril liant marriages to the sons of Fair- view’s finest families. Lucille, who had married a mining engineer, was! in Mexico: Janet in Chicago; and Charlotte and her husband wrote" vivid letters from Shanghai, where he represented an oil concern. Instead of relaxing a bit, Mrs. Carruthers doubled her efforts to make .brilliant marriages for her two remaining daughters. Beth was disturbingly sarcastic about her en deavors, and Valerie had the bad taste to show a marked preference for Minna Dale’s brother, whose phe nomenal playing as halfback on the high school eleven was his only claim to distinction. “Why, he be longs to the poorest fraternity, and he dances atrociously,” scolded Mrs. Carruthers. “Well, I like him just the same,”; answered Valerie calmly. At the end of Minna’s senior year Beth Carruthers was successfully, although somewhat protestingly, married off. Two years later, while Minna Dale was away at college,; she wrote Valerie how so^ry she was not to be able to attend her wedding. She wished her all the happiness and good fortune in the world. She did not add that she couldn’t bear to see Val married to anyone but her own precious brother Jim, who had always adored Val. One afternoon in May, some 10 yeefs after their graduation, a lux urious limousine poked its way up the Carruthers’ drive and a laugh ing woman jumped out, a woman so exquisitely gowned that the five former Carruthers girls, idling on the porch, had hard work to believe her the plain little girl who had been Minna Dale. Mrs. Carruthers was most gra cious. Surely, Minna hadn’t mar ried the famous Dr. Kent, whose surgical skill was world known? Minna casually admitted that she had. “It is wonderful to see you all to gether again,” she smiled. “The last I heard you were scattered in every corner of the globe. And you are all just as beautiful as ever. Are you staying here long?” There was an awkward pause. Mrs. Carruthers’ glib tongue en deavored to belie the odd flushes that came over her daughters’ faces. “It was so lonely without them, I just insisted they come back with the babies to pay me a long visit. It seems like old times, once more.” Minna suspected she was lying. She left, shortly afterwards, and Valerie, walking as far as the car with her, let the cat out of the bag. “Don’t believe what mother said,” she whispered. “We’re all home for good. Mother’s brilliant marriages have come home to roost, chicks and all. Lucille’s husband desertect her for a nobody; Janet couldn’t stand Sam’s drinking; Charlotte left Bob when he got tangled up with a woman in Shanghai, and Beth’s hus band said she was too sarcastic to live with.” “And you?” asked Minna. “Oh, I?” Valerie sighed. “Hal went overseas and never came back.’ 9 “Killed? Oh, my dear.” “Nope. Fell in love with a French countess. I divorced him three years ago, so he could marry her. Hope they’re happy. I only married him to please mother. I never loved any one but your brother Jim,” she added, fiercely. Minna gathered both her hands into hers. “Val, dear, I wonder if you are the reason why Jim has never married? He’s coming down to spend a week-end with us soon. Can’t you plan to visit us at the same time?” Valerie swallowed the big lump in her throat. Soft, unshed tears dis pelled the bitterness in her lovely blue eyes. “Oh, Minna,” she breathed joy- ously, ‘‘I’ll coma ... 1*11 ooma.” 1 F UNICE HATTON, bobbed haired ^ and completely a la mode, pat ted her marcel into place and sat, back to wait for the rising of the, curtain. It was Rotary night at the 1 Shelbourne theater, and, incidental ly, a new leading man was to make his appearance. Either of these add- -ed attractions v/as sufficient to bring forth a representative of the press, and Eunice, efficient young person' that she was, carried within her! calfskin bag a badge which identi-! fied her with the Daily Bulletin. Her; manner was slightly bored, because she was new at the work, and bore dom, that easy boredom which tokens sophistication, seemed to herj just the proper attitude for the blase lady reporter. But Eunice was young, and it: would have been a very blase person: indeed who could have been really 'bored when the curtain rose, re-: vealing a trim young man in riding breeches, soft shirt and sombrero. But it was still a blase young woman who, back-stage after the final curtain, asked to speak to Mr.! Jack Gade. “Good evening,” said Eunice,; professionally, to the broad back in, the brocade dressing gown. j “Oh, good evening! Won’t you sit; down?” The trim young man re-! moved a pair of shoes from the; other chair. “I’m from the Daily Bulletin,” 1 said Eunice, looking for the first time full into the provocative eyes.; “I liked your performance this eve- 1 ning.” “Oh, I’m so glad! But then, we. had a good play to work with, you know.” “Yes, I know. I’m here to get an; interview with you, Mr. Gade. You’ know the kind of stuff—where you; came from, what you’ve played be-; fore, and how you like the city.” “Oh, yes. But there isn’t much to; tell. I was on Broadway last season, you know. And I’ve played practical-; ly everything. And you may say I; like your city. In fact,” and he looked at Eunice appreciatively,- “I like it more every minute.” “Oh,” and the blase young ladyj blushed a warm pink. Then, after a! second’s pause, she threw down the; gauntlet. “I suppose you must be! rather lonesome, though. I mean, _ you probably don’t know many peo-: pie here?” “No, I don’t, and there you have; my chief trouble. I’ve been here; only a week, and we seldom meet, any but theatrical people. Of course,, we play every evening, but there, are only two matinees a week. That, leaves four afternoons to kill.” He; paused while Eunice waited ex» ; pectantly. “Perhaps—” he ventured. “Yes?” said Eunice, squinting In; response. “Well, I thought you might be will-; ing to take lunch with me tomorrow.; And perhaps by then I .will have: thought of something more to tell; you about myself. Will you come?” : “Why, yes. I have to have the{ interview, you see.” “Oh, is that the only reason?” “And I liked your performance.**; “Well, that’s encouraging, any-: way. Then, say, at the Rochester at 12? I’ll meet you in the lobby.”! “Very well. Good evening.” “Oh, but you haven’t told me your; name.” “Miss Hatton.” “Haven’t you a first name?” ; “Not yet.” ;• The sophisticated, indifferent Eu nice got as far as home and shut! herself in her room before she suc cumbed to the romantic, thrilled; little girl who demanded recognition. It was still the second Eunice who persisted in going to the office the next morning, denying even a busi ness-like attitude to the newspaper Eunice. And when, at 11 o’clock, a messenger asked for Miss Hatton, it was still the second Eunice who tore open the envelope with nervous haste and read: “Am so sorry can not meet you this noon. Will ex plain as soon as possible.” At 12:30 it was the professional Eunice who sat at a white-topped table in a cafeteria and exchanged ! office chat with another efficient young woman in a tailored suit. - “Oh, my dear,” said the other ef ficient one, “have you heard the latest? Let’s see, you covered the Shelbourne last night, didn’t you? Well that new leading man—hand some, isn’t he?—he’s only been in town a week, but his wife is here and is going to sue him for divorce. Wonderful story. And when I was coming out of the Rochester a little while ago, after getting the list of new guests, what do you suppose? Why, I saw him at a corner table with that little Simms girl that works over at the Hoton shoe, and who was mixed up in that affair last month. My dear, what’s the matter? Don’t you like that salad? Well, I never liked shrimp, either.” And yet Mr. Gade, he of the pro vocative smile and the friendly squint, never quite understood why, when he called in the afternoon and invited this young person to a late lunch following the evening performance, he was answered by; “Sorry, Mr. Gade. Had to have the story, you know; so I saw your manager this afternoon. What? Lonesome? Then I should recom mend you to our Lonely Hearts col umn. Some people get results that way.” J