Better Be Natural!
Instead of “gilding the lily,” Dar
ryl F. Zanuck, Hollywood director,
lets nature take its own course. Pic
ture No. 1 shows siren-like Alice Faye
a few years ago. Compare that picture
with Alice Faye No. 2, from a recent
picture. The same technique was ap
plied to Sonja Henie, shown (No. 3) as
Hollywood found her and (No. 4) as
she looks in “Happy Landing.”
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Jjy Thornton Burgess J
BUMBLE BEE WON’T HELP
Bee. Bee, Bumble Bee,
Wouldn't tell a thing to mel
SO SAID Peter Rabbit to himseil
as he sadly took his way back to
the dear Old Briar Patch. Peter
was tired, for he had had a long
hunt to find Bumble. His nose was
sore, for Bumble had thrust a sharp
little lance into it to teach Peter not
to poke his wobbly, inquisitive little
nose into places where it had no
business to be. But Peter wouldn’t
have minded these things if he had
found out what he wanted to know.
But he didn’t find out a thing, and
so he was anything but his usual
happy self as he plodded wearily
along. He was hot, tired, disap
pointed, and cross.
And it was all because Peter
wanted to find out where the store
house of Bumble’s cousin, Mistress
Busy Bee, was, so that he could tell
Buster Bear, who is very fond of
honey, and so make Buster his
friend. He knew that it was in a
hollow tree, probably high up, some
where in the Green Forest, but
however was he, who couldn’t
climb trees and couldn't fly, going
to find out? Then Jimmy Skunk had
suggested that if he wanted to find
out, which he didn’t, he would ask
some one who knew to tell him.
Right away Peter had thought of
Bumble Bee. Of course Bumble Bee
Brown Symphony
Soft beaver is selected by beauti
ful Lynne Carver of the films for
winter sportswear. It is loose fit
ing with large comfortable sleeves,
md is the popular knee length. Un
derneath is a soft knit dress in
golden brown. The vagabond hat of
brown has a quill in the back. Ac
cessories are brown kid.—Photo by
Clarence Bull.
I*-..
1 would know, being own cousin to
Busy Bee. So Peter had run all
over the Green Meadows trying to
find Bumble Bee, only to get stung
on the nose and find that Bumble
couldn't if he would and wouldn't
if he could tell where Busy Bee’s
storehouse was.
Now Peter and Bumble are old
friends and neighbors, and it sur
prised Peter to have Bumble refuse
his request. But when Bumble,
who is very short-tempered and
much given to rumbling and grum
bling, not only refused, but took
Peter to task and gave him a regu
lar scolding for trying to find that
storehouse, Peter hadn’t been able
to find a word to say.
“You ought to be ashamed of
yourself, Peter Rabbit. Yes, sir.
® V ■ '
"You ought to be ashamed of your
self, Peter Rabbit.”
you ought to be ashamed of your
self to ask an old friend like me to
make trouble for one of his own
relatives,” Bumble had said. “It
would be bad enough for you to
try to make trouble yourself, and I
wouldn't have believed it of you
before this. But to try to get me
to tell you where my cousin’s store
house is so that that great robber,
Buster Bear, can steal all she has
worked so hard to make and save is
is—why, it’s—it’s just awful!
Buz-z-z, buz-z-z. I never heard of
such a thing! How would you like
to have your cousin, Jumper the
Hare, go tell Reddy Fox of a hiding
place where he would be sure to
catch you? You’d think it’s per
fectly dreadful, wouldn’t you? Well,
what you have asked me to do is
just as bad. Yes, sir, it’s every
bit as bad." You see Bumble had
guessed right away why Peter want
ed to find that storehouse.
Now Peter had not once thought
of it in that way. It was a new
idea to him. He thought it all over
after he got back to the dear Old
Briar Patch as he nursed his sore
nose. Little by little he began to
see that Bumble was right. "Why,"
said he to himself. “I didn’t think
of it in that way Of course, I
wouldn’t want Bumble to do any
thing to hurt one of his own rela
tives Of course not. I didn’t once
think that finding that storehouse
and telling Buster was going to hurt
any one. But. of course, if he stole
the honey,—why—well, I wouldn’t
like it if it were my honey."
© T. W Burgess. — WNU Service
AMAZE A MINUTE !
SCIENT1FACTS BY ARNOLD
'f Completing toll calls
/V Ten years ago o'ut-of
TOWN TELEPHONE CALLS TOOK
^ AN AVERAGE OF TWELVE MINUTES
S TO COMPLETE, COMPARED WITH
rCl
Boulder Dam Today
Wedged in Black
canyon of the Colo
rado river. Lake Mead
is the huge creation of
Boulder dam, seen in
the foreground. Lake
Mead is 115 miles long
and now holds 15,250,
000 acre-feet of water,
enough to cover West
Virginia to a depth of
one foot. Eventually it
will hold 30,500,000
acre-feet. Below is a
“beach of the desert"
on Lake Mead, the
new tourist mecca.
------- /£
Dark Walls Can
Be Brightened
By Simple Plan
By BETTY WELLS
“My wails have distemper,” she
wailed. The lady was exaggerating
but nevertheless dark walls, the sort
that aren’t deliberately planned by
a smart decorator, can present a
difficult problem. Not many years
ago many English type homes were ;
built with darkish rough plaster j
walls. We don’t think the builders j
had the esthetic values so much in
mind as the fact that such walls are
extremely practical, never showing
dirt or children's finger marks. But
what to do about them if the budget
doesn't allow a complete change’ of
wall-view?
And what if our furniture bought
to last a lifetime does not exactly fit
in a background like that? With the
dark tan rough plaster, the ideal
type of furniture is Jacobean—
heavy, sturdy oak that dignifies the
dark walls. But with a heteroge
neous group of furniture, it is still
1/ w 0
Walls that don’t show dirt.
possible to achieve a pleasant,
warm room, even if the walls are
darkly forbidding.
The rug should have brilliance.
Use a bright Turkish type oriental,
a modern rug or a twist weave
broadloom in a warm vibrant color
Or polish the floor to shining splen
dor and use bright throw rugs. The
sombre walls won’t matter if the
floor is gleaming. Windows should
be treated simply, yet colorfully.
Try stripes—clear greens with pale
rust, bright blues with deep dubon
net—in simply tailored draw-type
draperies and with no glass cur
| tains, of course.
Furniture can be pulled together
with slip covers; a rough textured
tweedy material in neutral-toned
stripes might be the thing for the
sofa, while incisive tones of the col
ors used in the draperies could be
picked out for upholstered chairs.
Season with ceramics and get as
many highlights in the rooms as
possible. Perhaps a huge green
bottle standing in one corner will
catch the light from the hall and
drag it by its heels into the room.
If one or two pieces of furniture
can be added try a long, low oak
table in front of the fireplace or a
sturdy, straight-backed Jacobean
arm chair.
e By Betty Wells -WNU Service.
sssmswsw
Aquaplaning where a desejrt once
stood! With huge Boulder dam in
the background, this water sports
enthusiast is riding the waves in
Lake Mead. Bath houses and all
kinds of beach facilities have been
established for the tourist crowd.
Next year even more tourists are
expected
Almost forgotten in the public in
terest surrounding its larger broth
er (Grand Coulee dam in Washing
ton) Boulder dam is now furnishing
power to Los Angeles, 250 miles
away. Only one-fourth the ultimate
power equipment has been installed
at the dam power house, where
huge turbines work 24 hours each
day.
ADVENTURERS’ CLUB
HEADLINES FROM THE LIVES
OF PEOPLE LIKE YOURSELF!
“A Ride With Death”
By FLOYD GIBBONS
Famous Headline Hunter
Hello everybody:
Mary Billard of La Salle, 111., is today’s Distinguished
Adventurer, and she wins that distinction with one of the
most terrifying yarns I’ve seen in a long time.
It happened in 1913, when Mrs. Billard was Miss Mary Blanch, a girl
of twelve, and Mary says, “The La Salle papers called me a heroine at
the time, and it was all quite exciting for a girl of my age, but it lost its
thrill when I thought of my mother lying in a hospital in a critical condi
tion, fighting the dangers of gangrene and lockjaw.”
You can see from that statement of Mary’s that there was tragedy
in that episode as well as adventure. And it started with nothing but a
common, ordinary buggy ride. There weren't many automobiles in those
days, and most of the streets were mere unpaved dirt roads.
Her Dad Bought a Race Horse.
Mary’s dad had bought a horse that had spent all its life on
race tracks and was hard to handle when hitched to a buggy.
It had run away twice, and Mary's mother didn’t drive it any
oftener than she had to.
But there came a day when she felt she HAD to drive that horse.
They had just moved into town, and Mary was finishing a term at a
little country schoolhouse three miles out of La Salle. Mary’s teacher
was coming back with her that evening, so mother hitched up the
horse and started out to get them.
Mother hadn't been feeling well all that day, but she made the
trip to the schoolhouse without any trouble. They were all on their way
to town, with Mary in the middle between her mother and the teacher,
when, without warning, Mary felt her mother fall away from her.
She looked around just in time to see mother topple from the seat
and pitch headlong into the road. She had fainted.
Off on a Terrifying Run.
But that was only the beginning of a disastrous train of events. Mother
had fallen out with the lines still clutched in her hands. The sudden
jerk on those reins, caused by her falling, frightened the horse. It gave
a leap forward.
‘‘And with that leap,” says Mary, ‘‘there started the fastest <
ride I had ever remembered in all my twelve years.
“We were horrified at the situation. The horse was plunging along
at a full gallop, and my mother was being dragged face downward over
Mary Climbed Onto the Horse’s Back.
stones and gravel, in a way that struck terror into my heart. The teach- ^
er and I were helpless.
“We called and screamed to mother, pleading with her to let go of
the lines, but all our screaming was useless, for mother was in an un
conscious condition, clinging to those reins with a death grip while the
horse dragged her along.”
And, for half a mile, mother dragged along beside the reeling wagon,
in imminent danger of rolling under the wheels, while up in the seat Mary
and the teacher sat paralyzed with fear, trying to hang on to the swaying,
reeling buggy.
Mary says that buggy was running on two wheels a good part of the
time. And at other times it seemed to be flying through the air, with
nothing under the wheels at all.
Several men along the road had tried to stop the horse, but
couldn’t do anything with the crazed animal. At last, at the end
of half a mile mother’s hands loosened on the reins and
the lines were free. They got between the horse’s front legs, and
that only served to frighten the poor animal more.
Still the reeling, careening carriage flew on. They had covered
more than a mile, and now they were within a short distance of a
narrow culvert, just outside of the business section of La Salle. There
were pillars on either side of it, and it would be a miracle if the crazed
horse got through that cramped space without wrecking the buggy.
The teacher was the first one to think of that culvert. She screamed
to Mary that if the horse couldn’t be stopped before they reached it
they would both be killed.
“And with her voice still ringing in my ears,” says Mary, “she rose
to her feet, stood on them for a moment on the swaying floor of the buggy—
and jumped! I shut my eyes as I heard her body hit the road, and thought
that surely she must have been killed.”
Desperate Climb to the Horse’s Back.
And now, Mary was left alone in that speeding buggy. She knew that,
somehow, she had to get hold of those reins that were dragging down
there beneath the horse’s feet. Just a little way ahead, now, was the
culvert. And even if the buggy did get through the culvert, it was cer
tain to crash into something in the business district two blocks beyond.
So, while the buggy reeled and swayed, Mary began climbing over the
dashboard, onto the horse’s back. 4
It was a desperate chance. Time and again Mary almost lost
her hold in that precarious trip. The horse was slippery with
foam and perspiration, and only by bracing her feet against the
shaft did she manage to keep from being thrown into the road.
“I reached the horse’s head,” she says, “and the feel of my body on
her seemed to frighten her all the more, and make her go faster than
ever. But I got the lines from between her legs and started inching my
way back to the buggy.
“I pulled and jerked at the reins until I brought the horse to a
halt,” she says, “and it stopped just a few feet in front of the dreaded
culvert. A boy ran up to hold the animal, and I left the buggy and ran into !
town to get a doctor for mother. She was still unconscious when they
brought her in, and to this day she carries, on the right side of her face,
the terrible marks of that horrifying experience.”
Mary says she’s glad the horse and buggy days are over because_
well—she wouldn’t want any of her children to have such an experience.
Copyright.—WNU Service.
Hair of Head Shaved
All male prisoners of the Ohio
penitentiary in its early days were
required to have the right side of
their heads shaved close once a
month. This was so that escaped
prisoners could be more easily de
tected.
Ships of Stone
At Oland, an isle off the coast of
Sweden, may be seen prehistoric
Stone age remains, huge rocks
carved in the form of Viking ships,
replete with benches for the rowers.
Beavers Eat No Fish
Beavers do not ask much pay for
their work. All they want is a
chance to build homes whose under
water entrances are protection
against animal enemies. They do
not, as popularly believed, build
dams to trap fish. Beavers eat no
fish or meat.
Traffic Moves to the Left *
Traffic moves on the left-hand
side of the road in England, Aus
tria, Hungary. Portugal, Sweden.
( Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia.