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Quickly Made Dolls For Late Gift Choice By RUTH WYETH SPEARS jLIERE is a boy and a girl doll that you can make quickly. The body is two tubes of material made of fabric stitched together to simulate socks and shoes and then stitched, turned and stuffed as indicated at the left of this sketch. The head is a two-inch ball ot cloth covered first with cotton and then with tightly stretched cloth sewed in the back as in steps 1 and 2. The wig is made as in step 3. The diagram shows how the tubes and the head are sewn to gether. Sew across the top of the legs to make the doll jointed. Sew the arms down and the tips of the feet up as indicated. Sew clear through the head when adding the bead eyes about half way between the top and bottom. This shapes the cheeks. A few stitches in red make the mouth. The pleated skirt is cut straight. The trou sers are slightly shaped in the crotch. The sweaters are made from the striped tops of children’s socks. NOTE: The 10 cent edition of Sewing Book No. 4 is now ready for mailing, as well as the 10 cent editions of No. 1, 2 and 3. Mrs. Spears has just made quilt block patterns for three designs selected from her favorite Early American quilts. You may have these pat terns FREE with your order for four books. Price of books—10 cents each postpaid. Set of three quilt block patterns without books —10 cents. Send orders to Mrs. Spears, Drawer 10, Bedford Hills, New York. Alkalize quick with these mint- like tablets the instant you feel acid indigestion distress. The old days of embarrassment are gone! Now at the first sign of “acid indigestion!’ distress—quick, take 2 Phillips’ Milk of Magnesia Tab lets that you carry right in your pocket or purse. It’s wonderful that each of these tiny peppermint flavored tablets contains all the good alkalizing benefits of a full teaspoonful of liquid Phillips* Milk 0f Magnesia, known the world over for its fast actionin relieving “gas”, nausea and stomach upsets from excess acids. Don’t risk embarrassing yourself and others. Just be sure to get a box of genuine Phillips* Milk of Mag nesia Tablets today and carry them with you always. Phillips* ssr. Mind the Minutes I recommend you to take care of the minutes, for the hours will take care of themselves.—Chester field. C0LD m AIR QUICK, WITH THIS FIRST-THOUGHT FIRST-AID FOR HEAD COLDS' NASAL , MISERIES. PENETRONOSE DROPS —2 DROPS/—THEY SOOTHE AS THEY 1 , TOUCH, THEY COOL AS THEY VAPORIZE.! THEY SHRINK AS THEY ACT-AND FRESH-AIR BREATHING JS FREER AGAIN. PENETRO^Vs SHOPPING • The best place to start your shop- ping tour is in your favorite easy- chair,with an open newspaper. Make a habit of reading the advertise ments in this paper every week. They can save you time, energy and money. To Mr McCORMICK MESSENGER. McCORMICK S. C.. TmiRSDAY. DECEMBER 14. 1939 •' • *, *• I December 25, 1866, Marked the End of I An Heroic Ride and It Halted a Gay I Christmas Ball at Old Fort Laramie Barracks and officers’ quarters at Fort Laramie. “Bedlam,” where the Christmas ball on December 25, 1866, was dramatically interrupted by the arrival of John (“Portugee”) Phillips with his message of “disaster at Fort Phil Kearney,” is the two-story frame structure at the extreme left in the picture. By ELMO SCOTT WATSON (Released by Western Newspaper Union.) C HRISTMAS night, 1866, at historic Fort Laramie on the old Oregon Trail. A Christmas ball was in progress in the two-story frame building where all the social activities of the post were held —“Bedlam,” they called it, because it was where the unmarried officers Were quartered. In sharp contrast to the cheery scene inside — the warmth, the music and the soft light of candles and keresone lamps—was the darkness out side, made more desolate by ® — a bride of little more than a year and already a widow, whom Mrs. Carrington had taken into her home when the news was brought back to the fort that the lieutenant was among the slain of Fetter- man’s command. Several years later, after the death of Mrs. Car rington, Mrs. Grummond became the second wife of Colonel Car rington, and in her book, “Army Life on the Plains,” she tells of that interview as follows: “A knock at my door brought me to my feet. Ari orderly, brave and faithful Semple, announced that a man was waiting in the adjoining room wishing especial ly to see Mrs. Grummond. There I was met by an entire stranger, John Phillips by name, a miner and frontiersman, in the employ of the quartermaster, clad in the dress of a scout, who had some thing to communicate. So im pressed was he by the gravity of the situation of the garrison that he extended his hand to me, with tears in his eyes, and in brief but pathetic language said, T am going to Laramie for help, with despatches, as special messenger, if it costs me my life. I am go ing for your sake! Here is my the whistling wind and the bit ing cold. While the festivities were at their height, across the snow- blanketed parade ground a horse staggered. Its rider reeled in his saddle as he urged the weary beast for ward. When at last he drew rein before the lighted build ing and painfully dismount ed, the horse dropped in its tracks. A moment later a huge figure, clad in a heavy buffalo overcoat, leggings, moccasins and fur cap, lunged through the door of “Bedlam” and tottered out to the middle of the dance floor. The music stopped with a crash, and sev eral of the women screamed at the sight of the strange fig ure which stood there sway ing from side to side like a great brown bear. As several officers rushed for ward, the man in the buffalo coat lifted his hand wearily, pulled off his cap and gasped: “Fetterman and 80 men have been wiped out by the Sioux at Phil Kearney! Carrington must have help at once!” Then he dropped in a dead faint at their feet. This messenger of disaster was “Portugee” Phillips, and his 236- mile ride from Fort Phil Kearney to Fort Laramie, in the dead of winter and through a country swarming with hostile Indians, was one of the most remarkable exploits in the annals of America. Compared to it, the historic rides of Paul Revere and Phil Sheridan sink into significance. The reason for his heroic ride was the now-famous “Fetterman Massacre” in which the Sioux and Cheyennes on the morning of December 21, 1866, killed a force of 76 soldiers and two civilians led by Capt. W. J. Fetterman, Capt. F. H. Brown and Lieut. G. W. Grummond. That afternoon another detach ment went out from the fort and recovered their mutilated bodies. Soon afterwards the weather changed, the thermometer dropped to 25 degrees below zero and a blizzard came howling down upon the grief-stricken gar rison, who fully expected the In dians to follow up their victory over Fetterman with an attack on the fort. The blizzard piled snow against the stockade so rapidly that forces of men, working in shifts of only 15 minutes because of the bitter cold, were kept busy shov eling it away lest the drifts should become so high that the Indians could use them to climb over the palisaded walls. In this crisis Carrington decided that the only hope of saving the remainder of his command was to secure re inforcements from Fort Laramie, 236 miles away, the reinforce ments for which he had been vainly asking for several weeks. But there was no telegraph line nearer than the station at Horse shoe Creek, 40 miles from Lara mie, and the only hope of getting a message through was by courier. So the commander called for vol unteers. But none of the soldiers were willing to take the risk. Then John Phillips, a civilian, stepped forward. “Portugee” Phillips they called him because of his Portuguese parentage. He would go, he said. Before leaving, Phillips asked if Lie might see Mrs. Grummond, “PORTUGEE” PHILLIPS wolf robe. I brought it for you to keep and remember me by if you never see me again,’ “There was no price put upon John Phillips’ services. He asked no reward. The only condition he imposed was that he be al lowed to choose his own horse. That choice, promptly conceded by its owner, was a fine thorough bred belonging to the colonel.” At midnight Carrington himself unbarred a little side gate in the stockade and Phillips led his horse through it. He carried only a few crackers for himself and a hatful of feed for his mount, for in his race with death every ounce of weight would count. As he swung into the saddle, Car rington reached out his hand and murmured “God bless you and keep you on this journey!” Then as horse and rider faced the howl ing blizzard the colonel relocked the gate and, with heavy heart, returned to his all-night vigil in his quarters. The most dangerous part of Phillips’ journey was the stretch of country from Phil Kearney to Fort Reno, for it was likely that the Indians would be watching for a courier from the belea guered fort and would try to cut him off. But if there were Phil lips outwitted them for he “steered clear of the trail” rid ing parallel to it but at some dis tance away. By doing this he lessened the chances of discov ery but he increased the peril of losing his way or dropping into some deep ravine partly filled with drifting snow which covered the ground from three to five feet. By some miracle of good luck he pursued his journey in safety during the night. When morning came he rode into a thicket and lay there all day for he dared not risk traveling while it was light and being discovered by some keen-eyed Indian scout. That night he reached Fort Reno, com manded by Lieut. Col. H. W. Wes- sels of the Eighteenth infantry, who had recently taken charge of that post. After a hasty meal and a brief rest at Reno, Phillips set out on the longest part of the journey but presumably least dangerous —so far as Indian attack was con cerned. But before he reached Horseshoe Creek telegraph sta tion he was pursued by a band of Indians mounted on ponies. Thanks to the speed of Colonel Carrington’s thoroughbred, how ever, Phillips was able to outdis tance them and gain a high hill where he prepared to make a last stand. But the savages had no stom ach for charging up the hill and did not attack. All through the night the courier stood at bay there, keeping a constant look-out against attack and ready to mount and ride for his life if nec essary. At the first streak of dawn, he “made a run for it” and reached Horseshoe Creek station a short time before it was at tacked and burned by the Indians. There he gave the telegraph op erator dispatches—one to the commander at Fort Laramie and one to the department command er at Omaha—which Wessels had entrusted to him at Reno. But, according to Mrs. Carring ton’s book, “the operator at Horseshoe Creek station was un willing to risk so long a dispatch as that of Colonel Carrington so Phillips pressed on with his dis patch, reaching Fort Laramie at 11 o’clock with icicles hanging from his clothing and both beard and hair matted with snow and ice. He delivered the dispatch and relieved of that responsibil ity he fell, exhausted and uncon scious.” When he was revived he learned that the message from the tele graph station at Horseshoe Creek had reached Laramie at two 'o’clock that afternoon and prep arations were already under way to send reinforcements to Phil Kearney. It was a sad Christmas day at that post for it was devoted to the burial of the victims of the dis aster on December 21 and in the days that followed there was the ever-present fear that the Indians might attack and that Carring ton’s decimated garrison might not be able to repulse the savage assault. Would the attack come before reinforcements from Lara mie arrived—that is, if indeed reinforcements were on the way? For there was no way of knowing whether or not “Portugee” Phil lips had reached his goal. That he might not have was a specter which haunted the minds of every man, woman and child in Phil Kearney during the next week. New Year’s day came and passed. And still no word from Laramie. Then, chronicles Fran ces C. Carrington: “One day there was a sudden, almost a tumultuous, hurrying out of quarters, with excitement and bustle as intense as if we were called to arms against an advancing foe. First, the Pilot Hill picket, and then the sentry before headquarters, and the look out on the headquarters tower, announced the unmistakable ap pearance of troops, five miles dis tant. “The bugle call and the 'long roll’ were never more gladly echoed in hearts. Our spontane ous cry was, ‘Open wide the gates and admit our deliverers.’ We hardly had patience to don pro tective outer-garments because of the glow of our quickened blood, and our common outbreak of joy was simply, ‘At last! At lagt! We are saved! We are saved! Phillips was saved, saved, for us!’ ” ’ ‘ f- M v ;• The story of the subsequent ca reer of “Portugee*’ Phillips is ^an all-too-familiar story of the pro verbial ingrautude of republics toward men who have served them well. In the years that fol lowed his heroic ride he was em ployed in various capacities around the frontier posts in Wyoming. But he was continual ly hunted and harassed by the Sioux who looked upon him as the man who had prevented their following up their victory over Fetterman by destroying the whole garrison at Fort Phil Kear ney. They drove off or killed his cattle and when he tried to get compensation from the govern ment for his losses the Court of Claims gave him a judgment for the sum of $2,210. Then it was discovered that Phillips, born of Portuguese par ents on the Pacific coast, wasn’t a naturalized citizen of the United States at the time of the Indian depredations on his property. So the claim was not allowed! Lat er he became a naturalized citi zen but still the claim was not ip&id. Broken in health by the ex posure and strain of his perilous ride and his treatment at the hands of the revengeful Indians, Phillips died in Cheyenne Novem ber 18, 1883, at the age of 51, leaving a widow and a child in straightened circumstances. It was not until 33 years later that the government took official recognition of his heroic ride. In 1899 Senator F. E. Warren and Congressman F. W. Mondell of Wyoming, aided by affidavits pro vided by Carrington (now a brig adier-general) and Mrs. Carring ton (his second wife) succeeded in obtaining the sum of $5,000 for Mrs. Phillips in partial recogni tion of her husband’s services in 1866 and his losses at the hands of the Indians. Monument to “Portugee” Phillips near the site of Fort Phil Kearney. Among the tributes that have been paid to “Portugee” Phillips is this poem, written by Griff Crawford and printed in the Kans as City Times on March 3, 1929. I’M RIDIN” FOR LARAMIE I’m goin’ to Laramie—down the divide; A headin’ for Laramie—goin’ to ride The trail as I find it and gaugin’ the breath That blows from the Big Horn, a-singin’ with death, I’m hopin’ for luck when I’m makin’ it through The brakes that are hidin’ the clan of the Sioux. They’re waitin’ out there in the coulees, I know. But it’s death if I stay—and a chance if I go. So, here’s a goody-bye to the pards at my side— I’m tryin’ for Laramie—down the divide. I’m tryin’ for Laramie. No one can tell The cunnin’ that lurks in the minions of hell That wait just beyond where the spent bullets fall, Nor measure the storm that is king over all. With its cold, bitin’ sting and the drifts layin’ deep. And the wild, drivin’ wind that comes down with a sweep. I’m knowin’ the trail will be long at the best— I’m knowin’ the risk and I’m takin’ the test— And hopin’ and prayin’ that somethin’ll guide Me straight into Laramie—down the di vide. I’m tryin’ for Laramie—crawlin’ It through The scalp-raisin* ring—and I’m foolin' the Sioux; I’m freezin’ a bit—but I’m warmer in side— And soon I’ll be out where I’ll chance it and ride. The wind has a sting and the goin’ is rough, But I’m out—and away—and my broncho is tough. The trail may be long but It’s worth It to know I am fightin’ the miles and I’m buckin’ the snow For help—and I’m grinnin’ for makin* it through That circle of death—and I’m foolin’ the Sioux. I’m ridin’ for Laramiet Somehow the creep Of cold in my veins wants to put me to sleep And the hours—and the days—and the weeks—and the years And the drummin’ that sounds like • knell in my ears— And the eyelids that’s froze to my cheeks sorta seem Like a phantom of night or the hell of a dream. I’m freezin’ I know, but I’m ridin’ it out— From Kearney to Laramie—swayin’ about— I’d grin, if I could, for I’nf makin’ It through From Kearney to Laramie—foolin’ the Sioux. L’ENVOI. We’re here, little boss, and our journey, Is done; The bugles are ringin’, we’ve made it and won. The sting that is bitin’ my flesh doesn’t count; I’m watchin’ the soldiers ride out as they mount A headin' for Kearney. I’d cry if I could. They’re headin’ for Kearney—I knew that they would! I’d like to be ridin’ the Ice-pelted track— Be ridin’ for Kearney a-leadin’ them back— And watchin’ the fight as they’re heatin’ it through That hair-liftin’ circle and whippin’ th» Sioux. CLASSIFIED DEPARTMENT BABY CHICKS BRED FOR PRODUCTION: Ducks RAISED FOR PROFIT: 1 Chicko SOLD BY QUALITY: \ Turkeys STARTED CHICKS: MILFORD HATCHERYp^ c s k v d meP^o: Rich Rug to Crochet In Exclusive Design Pattern 2051. You can have this thick-piled rug suitable for various rooms and show it as your handiwork. It’s crocheted in squares which makes it excellent pick-up work. Pattern 2051 contains directions and charts for making rug; illustration of it and of stitches; materials re quired. Send 15 cents in coins for this pattern to The Sewing Circle Needlecraft Dept., 82 Eighth Ave., New York, N. Y. CLOTHESPIN NOSE Sensational extra help for colds—with Luden’s! 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