anaheim-daily-herald 1921-11-30

HERALD EDITORIALS WATER CONSERVATION The question of water conservation is a serious one; of that there is no doubt in the minds of those who think. Not only is this question confronting us in this valley, but also in many other portions of the United States and throughout the world at large. It is not a question to be solved in a day, neither is it one that will effect us seriously today. Because of this latter fact, so many of us have not given it any thought and the majority have not realized the danger confronting us and future generations. Thousands are starving in China today, because of drought caused by ruthless deforestation generations back. The cliff dwellers had to abandon their habitations on account of the water level receding. The desert sands are now blowing, where once stood the might city of Babylon with its wonderful hanging gardens and mammoth irrigation system. The meeting of the Orange County Water Conservation Committee at Anaheim yesterday, discussing ways and means of conserving the waters of the Santa Ana and other streams, was one of great importance, laden with potentialities, which, let us hope, will lead to the safeguarding of our water supply for all times to come. The interest manifested at that meeting shows, that there are many people in this county, who realize the importance of this question. It concerns the city dweller as well as the farmer. It concerns us all. With the proper water supply, this valley can and will double the crops now produced and will eventually be one of the most thickly populated areas of the world. It is a business proposition. Let us conserve our water. MODERNIZING JAPAN It is not probable that the new emperor of Japan will follow the footsteps of his ancestors. He lives in an atmosphere that they never knew. He does not accept or encourage the belief that he is of divine origin. He has been about the world a bit, having recently returned from a long tour. He has reached the age of 28. Napoleon had accomplished considerable when no older. If an educated man, his education designed to befit a ruler, is not competent to rule at 28, there is no likelihood that he ever will be competent. The sooner the new emperor shall assume the initiative the better the other nations will be pleased. They would like to know if he is to instill into the Japanese some of the ideas he must have gathered as he mixed with the people of other races. Japan has the prospect of a great future, if only it can lay aside its notion that force must control, and that Japan is one of the greatest of forces. With the desire of Japan to expand lawfully nobody has any quarrel. With its conviction that it must be ready to fight, and that its first duty lies in fighting a nation with which it might be friendly, there is scant patience. It is to be hoped the young emperor will become a pacific equation in the affairs of the powers. LINGERING SUPERSTITIONS In an erudite presentment of facts concerning the stars, a learned astronomer adverted to the subject of astrology. It seems odd that there should have been occasion for such deviation from the real theme. Nevertheless there is a lingering belief in astrology. Astrology never was a science. It never afforded a field for scientific speculation. It was based on complete and profound ignorance. Its traces of survival are rather amazing considering the general standard of intelligence. The professor had come in contact, for example, with such questions as these, all asked in seriousness: “What house was Lloyd George born in?” “What sign rules the United States?” What is the sign controlling England?” Astrology never was a science. It never afforded a field for scientific speculation. It was based on complete and profound ignorance. Its traces of survival are rather amazing considering the general standard of intelligence. The professor had come in contact, for example, with such questions as these, all asked in seriousness: “What house was Lloyd George born in?” “What sign rules the United States?” What is the sign controlling England?” “What do the positions of the planets protend?” “Will the planets affect the disarmament congress?” His reply that Lloyd George was born in a little house in Wales was the only possible correct one. Positions of planets have no relation to human destiny. There are no “signs.” The whole astrological business is a farrago of nonsense. Such was the substance of the professor’s answers. There is no established reason for believing that fortunes may be read in the grounds at the bottom of a tea cup. Faith in such reading, however, is as logical as faith in the influence of the planets. Ellis Transfer & Moving LOCAL AND LONG DISTANCE HAULING 119 E. Center St. Phone 310J PAINTING APERING ROY A. TAYLOR All Work Guaranteed 210 N. Los Angeles St., Anaheim —Phone 26— Anaheim Sanitary Dairy Phone 268M Fresh Milk Delivered QUARTS 15c: PINTS 1c Morning and evening delivery KEEPING UP WITH THE JONES GOSH! THAT MUST BE SOME BOOK UNK'S READING HE'S BEEN AT IT ALL EVENING! AHEIM DAILY HERALD Snap Shots By Henry James No wonder a man writing the vicious piffle signed "Americus" hides under an assumed name. Barring occasion for shooting a few revolutionists, Mexico seems to be getting along pretty well without recognition. Democrats are resigning from federal positions, this course being more dignified than the experience of being thrown out. A New Yorker paid $14,000 for twenty-six barrels of water. He was so disappointed at the absence of a kick that he put in a kick himself. Roy Gardner asks the favor of being found insane, but the public does not owe him any favors. Congress is taking a vacation from its strenuous avo dance of labor. Japan is said to have seen the handwriting on the wall. And the Japanese read very well. Communists propose to have a party in this country on the platform of plenty of soapboxes but no soap. Tile and mantel makers in New York have been sent to jail by a discriminating judge who thinks that profiteering is wrong. George Our Boy Reporter Fare an warmer an evrythink an I guess the cheef is goin sum wares for Christmuss cause I hurd him over the fome tellin sumbuddy all rite that will be fine cause Iaint got nothin on for Chrismuss. I seen him ritin up a list an I gess it wus his Christmuss presnts list for people whategoin to get sumthin from him. It wus a long list but I didnt see my name on it but I gess he wusnt threw ritin when I seen it. Mister Padden ed maybe it wus jess his londry list maybe. jim dash Mister Henderson wich used to live here had sum relashuns down to Long Beach for Thanksgivin an turkey. He lives down threem now so he cood see the sites easy. jim dash I ast Mister Bud Holland wich is the wun wich spent $ six dollers an 60 sents up to the Sheesley shows ware the Jonteel girls wus wood he have another lady cum an bake sum woffels an coffee free for nothin like he dun before an he sed say yung feller I dont want you to ast me nothin more cause you got me in bad wun time an I dont want to get in bad no more this yeer so I dont gess he is goin to go to no more shows. He aint no relashuns to Mister Cicero Holland whats the wun whats got the groshry store an is marrid an got two babies. They dont look nothin alike neether Mister Cicero Holland sed she hopes. jim dash Mister Stork wus up to Mister Allan Crains an he's goin to be here all winter visitin a round my Mother sed she hurd up to the Ebell club. jim dash I ast Judge Howard did he give Mrs. Howard all the munney he gets from marryin peeple like ministers give it to thare wifes an he sed well George spose the minister aint marrid who does he give it to so I dont gess Mrs Howard gets to see what does the munney look like whats from peeple whats got marrid. jim dash Mister an Mrs. Ray Long had thare wooden weddin. You have your silver weddin when you are middle aged an when you get old an get marrid they call it your golden weddin. — thirty — Little Stories for Bedtime By THORNTON W. BURGESS (Copyright by J. G. Lloyd) CHATTERER IS SURE THIS IS HIS LAST DAY THERE was no hope, not the teeniest weeniest ray of hope, in the heart of Chatterer the that little red scamp of a squirrel we've seen racing along the wall on the edge of the Old Orchard lately. Between Ourselfs By Della M. Stewart Life might be so easy, could we only evade responsibility. Is there one of us who did not ever wish that some day or week could be filled to the brim with want-tos, instead of insistent must-bes? That did not think of the happiness that might be ours if only responsibility did not lay her urging hand on our shoulders at every turn of the way with stern prohibitions and peremptory demands? There are those of us who refuse to recognize anything but personal desires. But refusing to recognize is a dangerous thing. It is as if, driving our machine, we refuse to see the rock in the road, the warning hand of the traffic policeman. Trouble not only to ourselves but to others is sure to result. Two-fold is the danger, as two-fold is the responsibility. For there is responsibility to ourselves and responsibility to others. The first is imposed upon us by mere existence the second we accept, though maybe without thought, when we enter into relations with others. In the industrial world, money circles; family kinship—participation brings obligations. Responsibility to ourselves—for what? That we begin each day in the best bodily condition possible. That we think of ourselves as instruments of some creditable accomplishment and bring our best powers to the work. That we forego the envy and passion and laziness that would hinder us of our best. Responsibility to others? For good examples, for honest dealing, for unselfish thoughtfulness, for cheery optimism, for all the aid we can give to make life easier. After all, there's something admirable about accepting, isn't there? Have a Smile A clubman whose stammering tongue is the only slow thing about him accepted the week-end invitation of Warr Bullione, who has acquired an ancient mansion famous for its wonderful carved staircase. On arrival he was conducted to his room. He shuddered as he mounted the stairs at the new gilding which disfigured the lovely old wood work. His room was sumptuous, but more wonderful was the bathroom, with its marble walls and tinted marble bath, let into the floor in Roman fashion. Little Stories for Bedtime By THORNTON W. BURGESS (Copyright by J. G. Lloyd) CHATTERER IS SURE THIS IS HIS LAST DAY THERE was no hope, not the teeniest weeniest ray of hope, in the heart of Chatterer the Red Squirrel, as Farmer Brown's boy picked up the wire rat-trap in which Chatterer was a prisoner and started for the house, Black Pussy, the cat, following at his heels and looking up at Chatterer with cruel, hungry eyes. Chatterer took a farewell look at the Old Orchard and away beyond it the Green Forest from which he had been driven by fear of Shadow the Weasel. Then the door of the farmhouse that little red scamp of a squirrel we've seen racing along the wall on the edge of the Old Orchard lately. I can't imagine how he got in there, but there he was and now here he is." "What are you going to do with him?" asked Farmer Brown, coming over to look at Chatterer. "I don't know," replied Farmer Brown's boy, "unless I give him to Black Pussy for her breakfast." She has been teasing for him ever since I found him." Farmer Brown's boy looked over to the other side of the table as he said this and his eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, you mustn't do that! That would be cruel!" cried a soft voice. "You must take him down to the Green Forest and let him go." A gentle face with pitying eyes was bent above the trap. "Just see how frightened the poor little thing is! You must take him right down to the Green Forest right after breakfast." "Isn't that just like mother?" cried Farmer Brown's boy. "I believe it would be just the same with the ugliest old rat that ever lived. She would try to think of some excuse for letting it go." "God made all the little people who wear fur," said Farmer Brown's wife, "and they must have some place in this great plan." Farmer Brown laughed a big, hearty laugh. "True enough, mother," said he. "The trouble is they get out of place. Now this little rascals' place is down in the Green forest and not up in our corn crib." "Then put him back in his right place!" was the prompt reply, and they all laughed. Now all this time poor Chatteres was thinking that this surely was his last day. You see he knew he had been a thief, and he knew that Farmer Brown's boy knew it. He just crouched down in a little ball too miserable to do anything but tremble every time any one came near. He was sure that he had seen for the last time the Green Forest and the Green Meadows and jolly Mr. Sun and all the other beautiful things he loves so, and it seemed as if his heart would burst with despair. Next Story: Chatterer is Put in Prison. A clubman whose stammering tongue is the only slow thing about him accepted the week-end invitation of Warr Bullione, who has acquired an ancient mansion famous for its wonderful carved staircase. On arrival he was conducted to his room. He shuddered as he mounted the stairs at the new gilding which disfigured the lovely old wood work. His room was sumptuous, but more wonderful was the bathroom, with its marble walls and tinted marble bath, let into the floor in Roman fashion. "What are you doing?" asked a puzzled friend as he watched him pass his fingers around the bath. Came the reply: "I w-want to be q-quite s-sure there are no d-d-diamonds incrusted in the d-d-darned bath; I might scratch my b-b-back on them!" He was a famous hypnotist and as usual he was urged to relate some stories concerning the power he had at his command. Moreover, he was very absent-minded. "I remember once during my stay in New York I had the pleasure of saving a workman's life. I happened to be looking out of a window ten stories higher. I immediately concentrated my hypnotic influence on him and so arrested his fall in mid-air." And the hypnotist, conscious that he had made a stir, sat back with a satisfied air. "But," inquired one of his feminine admirers, "didn't the man publicly thank you for saving his life?" "Heavens!" the hypnotist exclaimed. "Now I come to think of it, the poor fellow must still be waiting up there for me to free him from the influence." An Australian was on a visit to London and in the course of his wanderings he got into conversation with a cockney. "You know," said every time any one came near. He was sure that he had seen for the last time 'the Green Forest and the Green Meadows and jolly Mr. Sun and all the other beautiful things he loves so, and it seemed as if his heart would burst with despair. Next Story: Chatterer is Put in Prison. the Australian, "on the other side of the earth it is a day later than it is here." "I don't believe that!" replied the cockney. "Ah, but it is!" responded the Australian. "Listen, and I'll prove it to you!" If you were in Australia and I was here and you were to be shot today, I'd know it yesterday. Well, it you were a friend of mine you'd send me a telegram today, telling me I'm shot!" retorted the cockney. Ryders Alley and Jacob Street are two of the oldest New York streets that few New Yorkers can direct a stranger to. Wednesday, November 30, 1921. HERALD SUBSCRIPTION RATES One Month by Carrier...$ .65 One Year by Mail ...$4.00 One Month by Mail ...$ .40 Entered at the Postoffice at Ansohim, California, as second-class matter. THE ONCE OVER By H. I. PHILLIPS TUMULTY AS HE KNEW ME By WOODROW WILSON.* (*Mr. Wilson was President of the United States under Mr. Tumulty.) Introduction. Inasmuch as my name has been mentioned two or three times in the autobiography of Mr. Tumulty, naturally leading to some curiosity as to my identity, I deem it a duty to issue this little autobiography of my own. While it may not be generally known, the fact of the matter is that I was Mr. Tumulty's President during his two terms as secretary. I have always had a high regard for Joe. He was, in fact, the best secretary I ever worked for. CHAPTER I. The Meeting. I first saw Joe in Jersey City. That is a terrible place to first see anybody. In fact he is one of the few people I ever could "see" in Jersey City. The first time I was attracted to him, however, was on the occasion of my nomination for the governorship at the Democratic convention. After the nomination I made a speech of acceptance. I shall never forget that after I had talked a couple of hours the delegates, most of them case-hardened politicians, began to weep and sob upon one another's shoulders. It was what might be called a crying situation, but I was pleased to see a young man suddenly grab a Turkish towel, several sheets of blotting paper, and rush among the sobbing delegates, mopping up the tears from their shirftroats and dresscoats. He had them all dry in no time. That young man was Joseph Tumulty. And for that I made him ruler in the (beg pardon, I was thinking of Gilbert and Sullivan)—for that I made him secretary. CHAPTER II. With Joe at Washington. I remember the first question that came up between us when we reached Washington after Joe's election as secretary and his selection of me as President, was whether he should occupy the White House exclusively and I hire rooms in a rooming house. But Joe was very reasonable and we finally compromised; he agreed that I might live in the White House with him if I agreed not to disturb him. Taking up the trying periods of my administration I wish to explain fully to the American people just what my thoughts and aims were: Just why I did certain things at certain times and just why.... But, on second thought, I dare not do so; I must write Joe first and get his permission. More later if his approval is granted. Fordson TRACTOR "Henry Ford Was Right When He Said: 'The Tractor will enable the farmer to work fewer hours in the day, giving him more time to enjoy life. I believe the tractor will make farming what it ought to be—the most pleasant, the most healthful, the most profitable business on earth.'" This tractor has done much—very much—in bringing true Mr. Ford's prophecy; for in it is a machine which has harnessed one of the most dependable, efficient, adaptable, economical sources of power in the world—a machine that saves from thirty to fifty per cent of the farmer's time—a machine which many farmers claim plows, harrows or drills as much ground in the same time as four six or even eight horses. And more This tractor has done much—very much—in bringing true Mr. Ford's prophecy; for in it is a machine which has harnessed one of the most dependable, efficient, adaptable, economical sources of power in the world—a machine that saves from thirty to fifty per cent of the farmer's time—a machine which many farmers claim plows, harrows or drills as much ground in the same time as four, six or even eight horses. And more—a machine that takes care of every power job on the farm. Call and let's talk it over, or telephone or drop us a card and we will bring the facts to you. 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