The sun. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1937-1972, December 03, 1948, Image 6
THE NEWBERRY SUN. NEWBERRY. S. C.
FICTION
Corner
THE JAGGED SCAR
Tom and his dad had always been pals, so much so that when "the
old man" suddenly became sullen and morose toward his son, Tom attrib
uted it to his "growing up" and he began to find life almost unbearable.
Hr HE Tow-Headed Boy with the
hair dose cropped didn’t know
what it was. The old man spent
hours just gazing oiT into space.
He sat on the top front porch step,
his cane between his knees, his
feet planted on the second step and
the cane end set on the bottom
one. With his hands crossed over
the cane head, the right hand
carefully covered the jagged scar
across the back of the left one.
Other times, when the boy was
around, he always seemed busy
reading the newspaper. He kept it
folded so he could hold it with one
hand, the scarred hand concealed
in his lap.
Of course, he had never been
very talkative. Stoic, like the hill
people he came from, he never
mentioned his troubles. When he’d
chopped his hand with' an ax out
in the back yard, he’d sneaked
through the kitchen hiding the man
gled bloody member behind him
sc the boy’s mother wouldn’t see.
The boy had stood in the front
room wide-eyed and anxious with
fear when the old man saw him.
’’Don’t tell your mother, boy!”
he’d warned before he went into
the bedroom to tear up an old sheet
for wrapping his hand.
But the boy’s mother had noticed.
She sensed the strange atmosphere,
the unusual actions. She’d followed
him into the bedroom, and the boy
had heard the old man shushing
her, while she bawled him out for
hiding the thing. He kept saying
it was nothing—and afterwards he
never talked about it, never com
plained. He just never let anyone
se% the jagged scar across the
back of his hand if he could help it.
Now. the old man was with
drawn; he couldn’t get near him
anymore, couldn’t talk to him.
Once, he’d been able to get a kind
word out of the old man. He’d
say, ’’That’s good, Tom!” or,
“That’s not the way that ought to
be done, Son!” And though there
weren’t very many words between
them, they were the kind that made
the boy feel good, and know that
everything was all right.
Now, it was different. The old
man didn’t seem to have time for
him. He didn’t want to take their
long silent walks together anymore.
him. He called him the old man
when he was with the (Other boys
his age, not with any disrespect
but he always called him dad
around his mother.
“Oh, leave your father alone,
can’t you?” she said. And he went
away sensing an even greater
wrong.
Even little Rosemary, the girl
he talked to shyly in the school
yard sometimes, seemed -to .be
treating him different lately.
“What’s wrong with you?" she’d
ask right in'the middle of his won
dering what was wrong with the old
man and his mom.
“Oh, nothing—nothing!” he’d say
qtflckly. "Why?”
“Well, you don’t talk near so
much anymore,” she'd say, “and
you seem so far away like!”
He wondered if Just not paying
any attention to her while he was
thinking about his dad and mom
made her think there was some-
breath, his young chest swelling
quickly with the sharp intake of
air. He held it, stiffened his lip.
He would not cry. Crying wasn’t
grown up!
The thought struck him then that
maybe that was the whole thing
that was wrong. He was growing
up I He wanted to turn down that
thought right away. If this was
what It was like, if this was grow
ing up—then he didn’t want to be
big! He didn’t want to be. It hurt
too much.
Why couldn’t it be like it used
to be with the old man and him?
But if that was it—if it was just
growing up—then it never would
be like that again. And Rosemary
—she would never treat him the
same again, either. She knew, too!
Just getting big, you had to be
hard, cold, without love, under
standing, feeling or— There was
something wrong in just growing
up!
The boy started to rub his
knuckle into his eye, but stopped.
A bleak chill was settling in his
heart, as he watched the old man
“Oh, leave your father alone, can’t you?’
away sensing an even greater wrong.
she said. And he went
thing wrong with him. Or if maybe
there was really something wrong
with him.
He hated the thought, but it kept
like he used to. And he didn’t move cropping up ln ^ mind . Maybe he
around much. He even seemed to
resent the boy’s presence, like
when he’d stumbled that time in
the front room and caught himself
on hi., cane. He growled at the boy,
leaving him speechless and hurt.
But he wasn’t old, not like Grampa
—and—and the old mare down on
the farm.
Still, the last time he’d brought
his report card home from school,
happily expecting the old man to
say, as he sometimes did, “That’s
good, Son, good that you’re getting
your learning!” and smile at him
quietly, he hadn't done it.
He’d only glanced at the card on
one side then turned it over and
said something that sounded like
“Humph!" and handed it back to
him shortly. The boy had worked
extra hard that last month to get
the grades up hoping the old man
might break through to him again.
He couldn’t understand that short
“Humph!”
There was something wrong, and
the boy wondered if it could be him.
His mother seemed to act the same
_way toward him. Cut him off short,
when he’d tried awkwardly to ask
her about how dad was treating
was adopted! Maybe'.the old man
and his mom were not really his
father and mother, but had just
adopted him—and he was just now
finding it out. The thought fright
ened him, and he buried it deep in
his mind. If it was true, he’d oe
like the old man; hide his hurt.
He’d never let them know he
knew!
His father called him “boy”
now, instead of ‘Tom” or “Son,”
like he had. And he was sharp, al
most harsh sometimes.
H E WAS bouncing his ball off the
side of the house when the old
man came around from the back
yard. In an excess of boyish joy, he
forgot for a moment what the situa
tion was between them. He threw
the ball to the old man. Instead
of catching it and firing it back
so it would sting his hands the old
man ignored it. He did nothing till
the ball hit him, and bounced
harmlessly off his shoulder.
He tensed then, lifted his cane.
“Stop that infernal nonsense, boy!”
he yelled.
The boy could feel his own lip
tremble as he stared at the old
man’s angry face. He took a deep
WHO m IT SUM)
HO has not suffered docs not know
All that his God would have him know.
He has not learned the patient truft
That those who suffer bravely muSt
He has not seen Faith’s Star arise
Above the blackest midnight skies;
Nor clung to Hope that lights the way
Across the grayeSt, bleakest day,
Nor waited, quietly aware
Of God beyond unanswered prayer
He has not known how deep a peace
May follow some sweet, sure release.
Who has not suffered does not know
All that his God would have him know.
Grace Noll Crowell *
go in the front door. But he fol
lowed him, some strange knowing
ness urging him to get his answer
confirmed. To make sure that was
it
The old man was bent over fum
bling around on the floor for the
worn leather change purse he’d
dropped, when the boy walked in.
His hand closed on the purse and
he straightened quickly.
“Here, boy,” he said hurriedly,
digging into the pouch. “Run down
to the comer and get me a paper 1”
He often asked him to do that,
and the boy felt a rise of that good
feeling at anything he could do
for the old man. He held out his
hand and the old man laid three
coins in his palm.
“Now hurry, boy!” he urged
harshly. The boy felt disappoint
ment at the sharp, urgent tone,
until he glanced down at the coins.
Suddenly, he stood very still. Two
dimes and a penny lay in his hand
to pay for the three-cent paper.
Waves of coldness washed up his
spine as the bitter acid of knowl
edge bit’ into his nerve ends and
settled in his brain.
He made no outcry; not even the
sound of a murmur passed his
tight lips. But hot liquid emotion
scalded two lines of silent tears
down his cheeks as he gazed,
knowingly at last, up into his
father’s slowly blinding eyes.
“Okay, dad!” he said, his voice
stumbling over his heart, “Okay,
dad!”
by NANCY PEPPER
PARTY PICKUPS
We could tell you that the new
party game is called “photography"
but you’d know that was only a
gag, because blackout stuff and
kissing games went out with “Chi-
baba Chibaba.” Here are some
really good party ideas to keep your
guests in circulation and good hu
mor.
Balloon Busters—Tie a balloon to
the ankle of every girl at the party.
The object of the dance that fol
lows is for the girls to burst each
other’s balloons. The boys are the
steering committee, steering then-
partners into strategic positions for
bursting other girls balloons or pro
tecting their own. Last one with a
balloon wins a prize. She may need
an aspirin, too.
Paper Dolls—Each boy is equipped
with old newspapers, a scissors and
a paper of pins. Within a specific
time he must create a newspaper
dress on his partner. Cleverest de
sign wins prizes for the designer
%nd his victim. She also receives as
sorted stabs and pin pricks.
If those games don’t help break
the ice, better bring on the refresh
ments early. There’s nothing like
a banana-peanut butter and marsh
mallow slurpwich to put everybody
in a mingling mood.
Night Hog Feeding
Shows Good Results
Experiment May Prove
Useful During Summer
What is believed to have been the
first experiment in night feeding
of hogs indicates that this practice
may prove highly practical, at least
during the summer months.
The experiment was conducted by
Robert C. Turner, a Henry, HI.,
farmer, who produced an average
gain of 92 pounds each on a herd
of 107 Duroc hogs he had on his
night-feeding program for 63 days.
To encourage his pigs to eat dur
ing the cool of the night when they
were reluctant to eat during the
heat of the summer days, Turner
erected lights in his hog lot. He had
a time clock control set to switch
the lights on for two night feedings,
from 10 to 11:30 p. m. and from
2 to 3:30 a.m. One pole with a single
150-watt bulb and another pole with
two 150-watt bulbs lighted the hog
lot area, while a third pole with two
150-watt bulbs lighted the self-feed
ers.
Turner fed a ration of ground oats
and a pelletized milk product in the
self-feeders, hand fed ear com, and
provided mineral, salt and good al
falfa pasture.
His 107 pigs, farrowed in late
March and early April, weighed in
for the test at 7,424 pounds, or an
average of 69.38 pounds each. They
weighed out at 17,270 pounds, or an
average of 161.4 pounds each. This
What are believed to be new
records for economical and speedy
pork production were established
by Robert C. Turner of Henry,
HI., in his night hog-feeding ex
periment.
meant a total gain of 9,846 pounds
of pork, about 92 pounds per pig,
or an average daily gain of about
1.45 pounds per pig.
The herd consumed a total of 27,-
069 pounds of feed at a cost of $1,-
089.91. According to these figures
Turner produced his gain at the rate
of 275 pounds of feed for each 100
pounds of pork, or a feed cost of
about $11.70 per hundred weight.
The experiment used 148 kilowatt
hours of electricity at a cost of
$7.40, or about seven cents per pig.
Plash Age on Farm
The future living quarters for Bos-
sie and Dobbin may still be a far
cry from farmhouse comforts and
big-city penthouse plush, but at
least some of them will have air
conditioning, in the interests of
more milk and better livestock
health.
A new barn humidity control sys
tem which will reduce excessive
bam moisture to levels that will
do away with decay, rusting and
mildewing equipment, and losses
due to spoiled animal feed, bacteria
and insanitary conditions, has been
put on the market.
The new system will automatical
ly control fans and other devices
for reducing excessive animal-pro
duced moisture which in winter oft
en reaches 100 per cent saturation.
Contour-Seeded Fields
Produce Larger Crops
Contour-seeded wheat fields pro
duce larger crops than those seed
ed up and down the slope, according
to recent expert reports.
Increases of two to three- bushels
an acre have been reported on con-
tour-seeded wheat fields in many
instances. Also, in addition to pro
ducing bigger yields, wheat fields
seeded in this manner erode less.
It takes little extra time to plow,
disc and seed on the contour.
SCRIPTURE: Acts 1:8; 2:1-4; 4:1-4;
8:4-17. 25: 11:1-18; 13:1-3; 14:26-27: 16-1-
10: 28:16, 30-31.
DEVOTIONAL READING: Acts 4:23-
31.
Story of Revolution
Lesson for December 5, 1948
T HE MOST important history in
the world is in one small book.
The most important movement, the
most revolutionary, the one that is
destined to change
the world more than
any other, is the
Christian church.
The story of how
it began is in the
book of Acts. No
other book in or
out of the New
Testament tells the
story: The history
of the beginnings Dr- Foreman
of the one and only
international, interracial, world
wide movement that sets out to aim
at nothing less than a complete
transformation of mankind, the
Revolution from Within, the Chris
tian Church.
* • •
What the Church Is
T HERE are hundreds of churches
today and they do not all agree.
But every church, whatever its
name or peculiarities, aims to stay
on the course marked out by the
Christian church when it was one
and undivided, the church of the
Apostles. We look back to the story
in Acts to see what the true church
is.
In the very beginning, the
church was not the place where
the Christians met for worship.
It was not the officers. The
Apostles themselves were not
the chifrch. The church was not
a thing at all; it was people.
In Acts these people are seldom
called Christians and never called
churchmen or church-members.
They are given more meaningful
names. They are called “disciples,”
that is, learners, students. They are
called "believers." They are called
"brothers” for their life was like
that of a family. They are called
the people of “the Way,"—travelers
together to the same destination.
The church, in short, is a fellow
ship, the Family of the Friends of
Christ.
• • •
How <he Church Began
T HE infant church was like all
human babies; it began small
and poor. No bystander would have
expected it to live; but it had life
in its heart. Two forces set that
church on its way. One was the
command of Christ.
The people who were in it, or
rather the people who were the
church, took their orders from
Christ. It was because of him
that they went out to bear wit
ness to him to the “uttermost
parts of the earth.”
Then the people were filled with
the Holy Spirit; they were guided
constantly by the Spirit. The book
of Acts has often been called the
“Acts of the Holy Spirit” rather
than of the Apostles.
• • •
Leaders
G OD never does for people what
they can do for themselves. So
guidance of the Spirit was never a
substitute for human leadership. A
true church is not a mob: It acts, as
the New Testament church did, in
an orderly fashion.
One of the church’s first prob
lems was that of finding leaders.
The history in Acts is largely the
history of certain leaders—John,
Peter, Paul. But these were not
alone. Not even the Apostles tried
to run the church like a dictator
ship. The people themselves chose
the officers who were ordained by
the Apostles.
• * *
What the Church Does
F IVE things the Apostolic church
did, and these mark any true
church today. They “continued in
the Apostles’ teachings;” the be
ginning of all our church schools
and Sunday schools is in that brief
phrase. They formed a fellowship;
the church then was not a list of
names of people who cared little
for one another; it was a true
family.
They observed the sacra
ments; they and their house
holds were baptised, and they
continued “in the breaking of
the bread.” Baptism and the
Lord’s Supper have always
been observed in some form in
every Christian church! They
“continued in prayer;” a church
in which only the minister prays
is a feeble affair.
Above all, they were “witnesses."
That is to say, they told the story
of Jesus—his life, his teachings, his
death, his resurrection. Jesus livesl
Jesus is Lord! So the Apostles
preached, from Jerusalem to
Rome and far beyond. But their
preaching would have been mere
shouting in the wind, if Christ had
not lived again in thousands of
everyday Christians.
(Copyright by thy InttrnMdonal Council
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