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& ■ ^, m K-m T'-r wm ' r * . . • v '" 1 THURSDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1956 THE NEWBERRY SUN PAGE SEVEN • -* -. THE BAFFLES By Mahoney ♦r/VA,BILL. WHAT ) PLAYING ARE YOU DOING J THE HORSES. THESE days? AND IM MAKING A SWELL LIVING AT IT, TOO. YOU KNOW- MOST PEOPLE SAY THAT YOU CAN'T EARN A LIVING PLAYING THE BANGTAILS... ■wr * f" BUT THEY'RE WRONG! .f- •.v. TYPICAL CARRIER . . . Pres. Eisenhower greets Andy Williams, 14, of Ames, la., who represented nation's 600,000 newsboys in his White House visit. mm m mmz urour pasture v : , " y '< A ' m'« 1 CROW »T R»G\" ! I ori “^' r »a ^.tR—j. - -SWJ#' •’ •NtWl «5A^Ti«mi w.i. *»».• (It Id** I f p ‘W'V. 4 o*! 1 1tint»‘t»*• ■ • •.•• ^eui^ m •>« mi •»i m grow it right with AMM0-NITE AMMONIUM NITRATE FERTILIZER—33.5% NITROGEN • Cuts Nitrogen costs on pastures and small grains. • More Nitrogen for less money. • Prills are uniform! No clogging! No sticking! • Stay-dry, 6-ply bags with polyethylene inner coating. Manufactured by ESCAMBIA CHEMICAL CORPORATION PENSACOLA, FLA Exclusive Distributors ASHCRAFT-WILKINSON COMPANY ATLANTA, GA. S’ m E '*s;. I I— REV. ROBERT H. HARPER Jays and Squirrels In our back yard there is a great live oak with wide-spread ing branches that shade half the place. The place is usually alive and vocal with blue jays and other birds. Two gray squirrels live somewhere in the tree and appear at intervals. One morning last August there was a raucous cry of jay birds that sounded some thing like kieg, kieg, kieg! The appearance of a squirrel had upset the jays and caused their loud chorus. And why? I decided it must have been due to the direction of the squirrel’s movement—toward some food that had been placed under the tree. I have never known of a blue jay and a squirrel having a fight, but I can testify that the rodent great ly upset the winged creature. Now human beings ought to be wiser and kinder than blue jays and squirrels. They ought not be upset, be filled with wrath and bitterness if some other gets what they wanted for themselves. Bitter indeed is the envy that steals away a man’s peace of mind and leaves him the prey of his own selfish thoughts. Let us be content with what we have. "I REMEMBER” BY THS OLD TIMERS From E. Sne Woof ter, Clarks burg, W. Va.: I remember when we used to make sorghtun molas ses by grinding out the Juice from cane stalks. We would take the cane mill down by the creek and set it up. A horse was hitched to a long beam and someone would ride the horse, usually a little tyke like myself, around and around all day grinding out cane jUice. Don’t know whether or not the horse ever got dizzy. The boiler that the cane juice was cooked in was near the creek, too, and the skimming s were poured into the creek. How the Qsh ever survived is a mystery, for they were of the dirtest green color until the syrup was nearly done. The finished product was mflugh we put it in kegs for winter use on hot buckwheat cakes and also to make ginger bread. It sold tor around fifty cents per gallon, now if one could purchase it at all, it would be four dollars a gallon. PRINTING: The Sun la well equip ped to handle all your printing orders. We specialise in letter heads, envelopes, billheads and statements, invoices. We print any kind of receipt book, numb bered or plain. Ruled forms, vou chers, and many, many other items. Try us for quality print ing with prompt aarvice- Phone No. 1. Well be glad to calL <QUAW MAN’S CHOICE By J. Reed Ruff V INCE CHADWICK lowered his head allowing the broad brim of his worn stetson to shut out the early morning sunshine. He liked the sun, but not in his face, and this morning its brightness seemed to dim the images he wanted to draw from the past. In his shabby trousers and faded shirt, old Vince didn’t look like he had ever shared a close associa tion with ambition, and he cer tainly didn’t like a man who had once won the affections of the prettiest girl in the state. Seated on a nail keg in front of the store that had been his father’s, Vince looked exactly like what he actual ly was; an aging, small town hard ware merchant. He drew a deep sigh, remem bering Naona Whitefeather, slim and proud, that day long ago when he presented the trophy that titled her the prettiest girl in the state. There were a lot of memories of Naona, but there were memories of his mother too. “Vincent, you’re the youngest Commissioner this county has ever elected, and in time you’ll gain state offices. Think of it. Son, the state’s youngest Governor! Doesn’t it mean anything at all to you, Vincent?” She drew a deep breath, pleading, “Were the sac rifices I made to give you a proper education, made in vain?” It meant a lot to him, and she knew it. He owed the sedate, white haired woman more than he could ever hope to repay. “You can’t give it all up to mar ry an T"<n»n girl!” His Mother’s way of saying ’Indian’, reduced the word to an obscenity. “But I’m in love with Naona, Mother!” He still remembered how cramped his feet felt in the narrow, patent leather shoes, as he paced the floor of his small office. “She’s not like some of the Indian population. She’s well ed ucated. “You’ve lived in tills country all of your life, Vincent.” Moth er’s penetrating glance compelled attention. His Mother never cried, but she had a way of showing how hard it was for her to keep from ^ crying, and that was even worse. “Do you want to be called a ‘Squaw Man,’ Son? Do you think they will ever elect a ‘Squaw Man* Governor?” His thoughts were not bitter. For him, being prodded by the sharp goad of his Mother’s ambi tion was normal, because it was ati he knew after his Father died. But loving Naona was nor mal too. The musty coolness of the store was welcome after the blazing sun and the smell of metal and leather was pleasantly familiar. He stood for a moment in back of the scarred wooden counter with the zinc nad bins bulging across its front. He could hear his wife and his mother clattering around the Uving quarters at the rear of the store, engaging as always, in the sharp thrust and parry of petty bickering. Well, he’d been warned. He couldn’t have Naona and be Gov ernor too, but who wanted to be Governor or anything else with out Naona? Vince glanced down at the morffing paper where he had left it, lying open on the counter. Naona hadn’t changed much. She was still slim, and although her rich, dark hair had lightened to gray, even the poor newspaper photography couldn’t dim the warmth and dignity in her face or mar the proud way she stood at her husband’s side. Vince read the caption above the picture for the fourth time, tracing the black letters with a gnarled finger: NEWLY ELECTED GOVER NOR JOHN MONTE AND HIS LOVELY WIFE GRACIOUSLY ACCEPT KEYS TO GOVERNOR’S MANSION. With a far away look in his pale blue eyes, Vince folded the paper and laid it on the end of the count er. His Mother would want to read it when she found time. INSURANCE! GET TO KNOW THIS MAN YOUR INDEPENDENT PROFESSIONAL INSURANCE AGENT GEORGE TYSON You save money by choosing an insurance pro gram designed to fit your special needs. As an independent agent, we represent several com panies, which makes it possible for us to give you that program. Our personal service is vour guarantee of prompt, fair settlement of all claims. REPRESENTING IOWA HARDWARE MUTUAL Tyson-Welborn Insurance Agency 1215 Friend St. Phone 1141 * . « m V . . '• . - •‘iXL- -4. V .4v'- '* ' . v.y. I j-.- ' V ,i \m Subscribe to The Sun an _ : v A Good Newspaper 2 Dollars Per Year ' •H ■■•Eg . gw* ■m