anaheim-gazette 1934-11-29

LOVE LIGHTLY BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER SEVENTH INSTALLMENT Snopsis—Ellen Church, 17 years old, finds herself alone in the world with her artist mother's last warning ringing in her ears, to "love lightly." Of the world she knew little. All her life she had lived alone with her mother in an old brown house in a small rural community. All her life, first as a new baby, then a bubbling child, then a charming young girl...she had posed for her talented mother who sold her magazine cover painting through an art agent in the city...Mrs. Church's broken life...the unfaithful husband, his disappearance...and after seventeen years of silence announcement of his death was at last disclosed to Ellen. The news of the husband's death killed Mrs. Church...Ellen, alone, turned to the only contact she knew, the art agent in New York. Posing, years of posing, was her only talent so she was introduced to two leading artists, Dick Alven and Sandy Macintosh. Both used her as a model and both fell in love with her...but Ellen, trying to follow the warped philosophy of her mother to "love lightly," realizes the thought of love. Her circle of friends is small, artists and two or three girl models. Ellen attends a ball with Sandy. While dancing tall young man claimed her and romance is born. Now Go On With The Story. "Most women," said Tony, and he spoke with the conviction that every rich young man possesses, "would be afraid to talk as frankly as you do, Ellen, if they really didn't care! They'd be afraid of losing me—and my bank account—" Ellen tossed her head until the curle of it were all a-dance. "I'm not afraid!" she boasted. How would a boy guess that the boast was shouting, "that you'd go off, right after the ceremony, and pose for some artist? Do you mean to tell me you'd leave your husband to go to another man, so that he can paint you into a dirty little Indian picture?" Ellen was interrupting. "Long after our marriage is over, Tony," she said hotly, "long after we've stopped being, Dick's mural will go on, giving beauty and fineness to people. It's not a dirty little Indian picture, Tony—Dick is a great artist." "Great artist be hanged," grated Tony. "I bet he's in love with you, the—" Ellen's face was burning. "If it's going to be like this," she said, "when we've known each other less than a day—well, then, I guess we'd better call off the whole business." But, suddenly, she was in Tony's arms again, and his mouth was against her mouth. And the whole earth whirled dizzily about them. And then with her hand tight in Tony's, and a blue, small hat clamped down over her ears, and a white, strained smile on her lips, Ellen was being whirled away—toward lower New York and the marriage license bureau. Only they weren't going in a taxi. Tony was driving a scarlet Rolls-Royce roadster with a special body and a mean way of nosing through traffic. The document which gave two young people the right to join their lives together was properly authenticated. It was witnessed and sealed. And then the man behind the bars was speaking. "Want to be married here, now?" he questioned. "The clerk can do the job—" Ellen had a desire—a keen desire—to scream. No, she didn't want to be married in this dark, dusty room. Not to Tony—to Tony whom she loved—to Tony who would be her husband. tell herself)—was helped by the car. All at once his/her held a difference—had grown very soft, ver. "Well, here we are," she last statement you'd lift the press, Miss Church? ing the church? Ellen essayed a smal thing much longer. "Keep back the report For I'm to be queen of Tony was answering "You haven't any flow And then they were and it was dim and e and somehow very lonely ceased suddenly to think thought instead of her in a cool, sweet, lonely mother — who had wait that said, whimsical min very thing she was about or God—her heart had The minister had come the room. A minister all old; who looked at liked her and who shook with Tony. The minister marriage license, and said "You're very young. And, "Haven't you any like to have with you? shake of Ellen's head," to be witnesses? Again Ellen shook her but Tony answered. He by the loneliness of the Tony—he wasn't eaten by "We didn't even remem friends," he told the man isn't there someone arc can witness this for us? The minister nodded young as Ellen and thou He left the chapel. And gone, Tony bent swift Ellen. It was not the sion-it was a comforting Just exactly the sort "Most women," said Tony, and he spoke with the conviction that every rich young man possesses, "would be afraid to talk as frankly as you do, Ellen, if they really didn't care! They'd be afraid of losing me—and my bank account—" Ellen tossed her head until the curle of it were all a dance. "I'm not afraid!" she boasted. How could a boy guess that the boast was so hollow? "I suppose," Tony went on, "that I'm sort of old-fashioned, in some ways. But my mother and my father were married for thirty years. My father died just two months before my mother went away, and when she followed him (and say what you will, it was heartbreak, for she hadn't been ill), she was calling—" the boy's voice shook, "calling his name. I believe in that kind of marriage, myself." Ellen's eyes were staring far away. "My mother loved my father until they both died," said Ellen. "And that," her imitation of Claire's shrug was piteous, "and that's why I don't believe in that kind of marriage. I want to get what I can out of life—I want to squeeze life dry, like a sponge. If you marry me, it will have to be on those terms. You're not to expect too much from me. Not too much love, or too much gentleness, or too much loyalty. I'll try not to do anything to put any sort of a blot on your name—you can pretty well count on me, there, because I'm not the type! But I shall continue to have my own friends, and to go out with them. And I'll keep on with my work, if I find I'm not busy enough running my marriage. I'll—" One of the first things she had noticed about Tony was the strength of his jaw line. It widened out now, in an odd manner. It became blunt. "What," said Tony, "if I make a few remarks and stipulations? As long as this seems to be a mutual contract we're drawing up! What if I say that I'll have as many women friends in my life, as you have men? What if I say that I'll find my excitement elsewhere, if you don't keep my home happy enough? What if I say I don't care about the blots that I put on the family name, as long as wearing the family name can be held so cheaply by my wife?? What if I say I thoroughly agree with your theories? That what you've said can go—double!" They looked like calm little fingers. They looked like clam little fingers. The document which gave two young people the right to join their lives together was properly authenticated. It was witnessed and sealed. And then the man behind the bars was speaking. "Want to be married here, now?" he questioned: "The clerk can do the job—" Ellen had a desire—a keen desire—to scream. No, she didn't want to be married in this dark, dusty room. Not to Tony—to Tony whom she loved—to Tony who would be her husband. But Tony, with a blush creeping down until it covered his firm tanned neck, was stammering out something. "No," he was saying. "Not here. I want to be married in a church. Only married once, y'know." The man who had sealed the papers said something, here, about being at optimist. "As for that," Tony added, as if he were speaking in his own defense, "we haven't a ring yet!" Ellen, glancing swiftly down at her slim, ringless hands, was flushing. Why, she had quite forgotten about a ring! Of course, they'd have to buy one, wasn't it all a part of the marriage service? "With this ring—" Something like that? Her embarrassment made her forget to be dishonest. "I want to be married in a church, too," she told the man behind the bars, and the man laughed at her vehemence. It was only when Tony had sled into the driver's seat of his car, and slipped in the clutch, that he sighed and spoke. "Thank God, that's over!" he said. Ellen alged, too. "The first hundred licenses are the hardest!" she told him, but he ignored her flippancy. Instead, guiding the car deftly through the traffic, he reached down and briefly patted her hand. "Such little baby fingers," he said. "Wonder if we'll find a ring small enough to do any good?" They did find the ring. All the way up in the Fifties. A slim little circlet of sapphires ("because they're more like you, believe it or not, than diamonds!"). And a great single sapphire on a gossamer hoop of platinum. "Your engagement ring!" Tony remarked. "We're on our way," Tony said, as they paused in the heavy early afternoon traffic on the avenue, "to the Little Church Around the Corner. It's a bromide. I suppose, to be married there. But I've always liked its green handkerchief of a lawn and its green mean of hearing through trunk." The document which gave two young people the right to join their lives together was properly authenticated. It was witnessed and sealed. And then the man behind the bars was speaking. "Want to be married here, now?" he questioned: "The clerk can do the job—" Ellen had a desire—a keen desire—to scream. No, she didn't want to be married in this dark, dusty room. Not to Tony—to Tony whom she loved—to Tony who would be her husband. But Tony, with a blush creeping down until it covered his firm tanned neck, was stammering out something. "No," he was saying. "Not here. I want to be married in a church. Only married once, y'know." The man who had sealed the papers said something, here, about being at optimist. "As for that," Tony added, as if he were speaking in his own defense, "we haven't a ring yet!" Ellen, glancing swiftly down at her slim, ringless hands, was flushing. Why, she had quite forgotten about a ring! Of course, they'd have to buy one, wasn't it all a part of the marriage service? "With this ring—" Something like that? Her embarrassment made her forget to be dishonest. "I want to be married in a church, too," she told the man behind the bars, and the man laughed at her vehemence. It was only when Tony had sled into the driver's seat of his car, and slipped in the clutch, that he sighed and spoke. "Thank God, that's over!" he said. Ellen alged, too. "The first hundred licenses are the hardest!" she told him, but he ignored her flippancy. Instead, guiding the car deftly through the traffic, he reached down and briefly patted her hand. "Such little baby fingers," he said. "Wonder if we'll find a ring small enough to do any good?" They did find the ring. All the way up in the Fifties. A slim little circlet of sapphires ("because they're more like you, believe it or not, than diamonds!"). And a great single sapphire on a gossamer hoop of platinum. "Your engagement ring!" Tony remarked. "We're on our way," Tony said, as they paused in the heavy early afternoon traffic on the avenue, "to the Little Church Around the Corner. It's a bromide. I suppose, to be married there. But I've always liked its green handkerchief of a lawn and its green mean of hearing through trunk." The document which gave two young people the right to join their lives together was properly authenticated. It was witnessed and sealed. And then the man behind the bars was speaking. "Want to be married here, now?" he questioned: "The clerk can do the job—" Ellen had a desire—a keen desire—to scream. No, she didn't want to be married in this dark, dusty room. Not to Tony—to Tony whom she loved—to Tony who would be her husband. But Tony, with a blush creeping down until it covered his firm tanned neck, was stammering out something. "No," he was saying. "Not here. I want to be married in a church. Only married once, y'know." The man who had sealed the papers said something, here, about being at optimist. "As for that," Tony added, as if he were speaking in his own defense, "we haven't a ring yet!" Ellen, glancing swiftly down at her slim, ringless hands, was flushing. Why, she had quite forgotten about a ring! Of course, they'd have to buy one, wasn't it all a part of the marriage service? "Dearly beloved," said and then— "For better, for worse," poorer—("Was Tony at her—didn't he know," guess that the money owed "In sickness and in health." A mist of words. An fussing with a hang nail and the man in overalls ear and a fly buzzing jjthe minister's head. And so damp, so slippery that it was hard for him little sapphire hoop on E! The minister was spared "How do you do," Mrs said, and Tony was handed that shone very yellow in And then Tony's arm right there in the church asking questions against him and her lips answering to "Mrs. Brander!" As she suavely white lunch her new husband—nervous tomato juice cocktail able to quake both inwardly—Ellen endeavored to tell it was really her name; no she realized that Tony speaking. A light voice—"Oh, she said, summo courage she could." "Oh; there!" I'll have as many women friends in my life, as you have men? What if I say that I'll find my excitement elsewhere, if you don't keep my home happy enough? What if I say I don't care about the blots that I put on the family name, as long as wearing the family name can be held so cheaply by my wife?? What if I say I thoroughly agree with your theories? That what you've said can go—double!" They looked like calm little fingers, They looked like clam little fingers, but in reality the nails of them were biting into her pink palms. Tony—oh, he mustn't go about with other women! Not when he was her husband. She — reversing a single standard to fit her own quaint measure—could be less fastidious. Because she knew that other men wouldn't ever matter to her. But how could she be sure that some other girl wouldn't matter to Tony? She started to speak, changed her mind, and said something entirely different from the thing that she had intended to say. "At that, our marriage should work out better," she said, "than most marriages. It's being built on a perfectly honest, fifty-fifty, cards-on-the-table basis." Some of the buoyancy seemed to have gone out of the air to the Brander millions. Only his doggedness, the strong line of his chin, was left. "It'll work out all right!" he told Ellen. "Say when!" Oh, the throbbing of the heart in Ellen's breast! Oh, the persistent beat in her temples. "Why," she said, and her voice sounded like a stranger's voice, even in her own ears. "why, the sooner the better! It’s just after twelve, now. Maybe, if we took a taxi, we could catch us a license right off, and be married, and have a bite of luncheon together, before three. At three o'clock I have a date to pose for Dick Alven, in his studio. He’s doing a mural... She broke off before the torrent of Tony's words. "Do you mean to tell me," he was DOROTHY DARNIT tell herself)—was helping her out of the car. All at once his attitude toward her held a difference—it was as if she had grown very soft, very fragile. "Well, here we are," said Tony. "Any last statement you'd like to make to the press, Miss Church? Before entering the church?" Ellen essayed a smile. She was realizing that she wouldn't be Miss anything much longer. "Keep back the reporters, big boy. For I'm to be queen of the May!" Tony was answering seriously, "You haven't any flowers!" And then they were in the church, and it was dim and cool and sweet and somehow very lonely. And Ellen ceased suddenly to think of Tony, and thought instead of her mother. Lying in a cool, sweet, lonely place. Of her mother — who had warned her, with that said, whimsical mind, against the very thing she was about to do. That, or, God—her heart had already done! The minister had come swiftly into the room. A minister who wasn't at all old; who looked at Ellen as if he liked her and who shook hands, firmly, with Tony. The minister examined the marriage license, and said to Ellen—"You're very young, aren't you?" And, "Haven't you any people you'd like to have with you? Or—" at the shake of Ellen's head, "or any friends, to be witnesses?" Again Ellen shook her head, mutely, but Tony answered. He wasn't awed by the loneliness of the church, not Tony—he wasn't eaten by memories! "We didn't even remember we had friends," he told the minister. "Say, isn't there someone around here who can witness this for us?" The minister nodded. He wasn't as young as Ellen and thought, at first! He left the chapel. And, while he was gone, Tony bent swiftly, and kissed Ellen. It was not the kiss of possession—it was a comforting, friendly kiss. Just exactly the sort of a kiss that Uncle Sam Blessed When It Comes To Highway Mileages United States Leads World In Easy and Quick Travel Accommodations The 1,800,000,000 persons in the world have only 9,152,282 miles of highway on which to move from place to place. The United States has 3,042,780 miles—one-third of the world's total. In other words, less than ten per cent of the world's population has 33 per cent of its aggregate highway mileage. In road riches, this country leads the world. Of the 145 countries and political subdivisions covered in a recent survey, Russia comes closest to the United States, but its total highway mileage—1,682,109—is but slightly more than half that of this country. The comparative positions of the two countries, however, are best established by relating the figures on road mileage to square miles of area. In Russia the ratio is one to five. To link up the figures of this survey with those kept constantly current by the United States bureau of public roads is to discover still other facts of this country's dominance in the world road picture. One of the finest impressive bits of knowledge is that which shows this country possesses one-third of the world's improved highway mileage, or 750,000 out of 2,200,000 miles. Of the various types of hard-surfaced mileages, it possesses still a larger share of the world's total, running to more than 70 per cent in the case of cement-concrete construction, and still more in the case of wood, asphalt and brick. Consideration of the highway figures together with those that show the United States has approximately three- Byron Hanna Named "Homecoming" Head Byron C. Hanna, '10, Los Angeles attorney, has been named as general chairman of the 1934 University of Southern California Homecoming celebration to be held at U. S. C., December 3 to 8, it was announced by Lewis Gough, executive secretary of the Trojan alumni association. IN THE SUPERIOR COURT OF THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA In and for the County of Orange NO. A-4177 NOTICE FOR PUBLICATION OF TIME OF PROVING WILL, ETC. In the Matter of the Estate of J. D. Claussen, Deceased. Notice is hereby given that Friday, the 30th day of November, 1934, at 10 A.M. of said day, at the Court room of this Court in the Department of the Presiding Judge thereof, in the City of Santa Ana, County of Orange, State of California, has been appointed as the time and place for hearing the application of G. A. Suhr praying that a document now on file in this court, purporting to be the Last Will and Testament of the said deceased, be admitted to probate, that Letters Testamentary be issued thereon to said G. A. Suhr at which time and place all persons interested therein may appear and contest the same. Dated November 14, 1934. J. M. BACKS. County Clerk. Stephen Gallagher, Attorney for Petitioner. 11/15-22-29, 1934. NOTICE OF SALE BY TRUSTEE NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN that by the loneliness of the church, not Tony—he wasn't eaten by memories! "We didn't even remember we had friends," he told the minister. "Say, isn't there someone around here who can witness this for us?" The minister nodded. He wasn't as young as Ellen and thought, at first! He left the chapel. And, while he was gone, Tony bent swiftly, and kissed Ellen. It was not the kiss of possession—it was a comforting, friendly kiss. Just exactly the sort of a kiss that Ellen needed. It made her whole soul turn to Tony! The minister was back again with a man in overalls, with grass stains on them—the would be the handy man who took care of the square of lawn—and a tall girl with spectacles. He had put a gown over his dark suit, and he carried a slim prayer book in his hand. "Stand together, so," he told Ellen and Tony. "No, in front of me. Join hands. No, your right hands..." Ellen, in a daze, felt Tony's large fingers close about her small ones. The minister's words swam around her in a mist of sound. Beautiful words—liquid, musical phrases—the marriage service. "Dearly beloved," said the minister, and then— "For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer—" (Was Tony glancing down at her—didn't he know, couldn't he guess, that the money didn't matter?) "In sickness and in health ..." A mist of words. And the tall girl fussing with a hang nail on her thumb, and the man in overalls scratching his ear, and a fly buzzing just in back of the minister's head. And Tony's hands so damp, so slippery with moisture, that it was hard for him to place the little sapphire hoop on Ellen's finger. The minister was speaking. "How do you do, Mrs. Brander!" he said, and Tony was handling him a bill that shone very yellow in the dim light. And then Tony's arms around her, right there in the church. And his lips asking questions against her lips... And her lips answering those questions. "Mrs. Brander!" As she sat across the suavely white luncheon table from her new husband—nervously sipping a tomato juice cocktail and trying not to quake both inwardly and outwardly—Ellen endeavored to tell her self that it was really her name, now. And then she realized that Tony's voice was speaking. A light voice—a gay voice. Oh, she said, summoning up what courage she could. "Oh, so you're still there!" "And will be," answered Tony. "for Tony—he wasn't eaten by memories! "We didn't even remember we had friends," he told the minister. "Say, isn't there someone around here who can witness this for us?" The minister nodded. He wasn't as young as Ellen and thought, at first! He left the chapel. And, while he was gone, Tony bent swiftly, and kissed Ellen. It was not the kiss of possession—it was a comforting, friendly kiss. Just exactly the sort of a kiss that Ellen needed. It made her whole soul turn to Tony! The minister was back again with a man in overalls, with grass stains on them—the would be the handy man who took care of the square of lawn—and a tall girl with spectacles. He had put a gown over his dark suit, and he carried a slim prayer book in his hand. "Stand together, so," he told Ellen and Tony. "No, in front of me. Join hands. No, your right hands..." Ellen, in a daze, felt Tony's large fingers close about her small ones. The minister's words swam around her in a mist of sound. Beautiful words—liquid, musical phrases—the marriage service. "Dearly beloved," said the minister, and then— "For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer—" (Was Tony glancing down at her—didn't he know, couldn't he guess, that the money didn't matter?) "In sickness and in health ..." The greatest concentration of civilian conservation corps men in any one area was completed last week with the arrival for the winter of the last camp assigned to Southern California camp sites of the Fort MacArthur district. Thirty seven companies, each with a peak strength of approximately 225 men, now comprise the district which extends over Los Angeles, Ventura, and Santa Barbara counties and has camps in two National forests and several state and city parks. Two camps are engaged in soil erosion work at Somis and Moorpark in Ventura county where the CCC men are showing farmers how to keep the bean fields from washing downstream. The concentration of nearly 8,000 enrollees in these 37 camps of the district will continue until spring when, unless Congress fails to make appropriation for continuance of the corps past the present period ending March 31, many of the camps will move back to Montana and Idaho for summer work know, Tony! I'm going on to Dick. To pose for him. She paused, but the thunderbolt didn't fall, not as she had expected it to—not as it had fallen before. Tony's voice was low and rather carefully controlled, but he didn't say anything at all harsh. "How long will you be?" he asked. "You'll let me drive you to his place, of course. This Dick Alven's I mean. And I'll stop for you, if I may, after the posing is done." It was his compliance that hurt. Ellen again felt the rush of tenderness "Mrs. Brander! As she sat across the suavely white luncheon table from her new husband—nervously sipping a tomato juice cocktail and trying not to quake both inwardly and outwardly—Ellen endeavored to tell her self that it was really her name, now. And then she realized that Tony's voice was speaking. A light voice—a gay voice. "Oh, she said, summoning up what courage she could. 'Oh, so you're still there!' "And will be," answered Tony. "for the next fifty years, at least!" It wasn't such a gay luncheon, after all. Not exactly the sort of a luncheon that a boy and a girl might have together, after a chance meeting at a jazz party. In a short while it was over. And Tony, rushing around the table so that he—and not the walter—might pull back Ellen's chair, was saying— "What now?" Ellen's winglike eyebrows were dark smudges in her white face. "Why, now," she said "now, you She paused, but the thunderbolt didn't fall, not as she had expected it to—not as it had fallen before. Tony's voice was low and rather carefully controlled, but he didn't say anything at all harsh. "How long will you be?" he asked. "You'll let me drive you to his place, of course. This Dick Alven's I mean. And I'll stop for you, if I may, after the posing is done." It was his compliance that hurt. Ellen again felt the rush of tenderness toward him, wisely tenderness, that she had felt in the little chapel. She was eager to release the thing that was disturbing Tony, to tell him that, as far as she was concerned, the posing was done, now! That she didn't care if she never saw a studio again. That she didn't even care if Dick—dear, honest, faithful Dick—were quite swept out of her life. She wanted to look into the blue eyes of her husband, to look so long that her whole soul would be lost in their blueness, but— Continued Next Week WARNIT AT IS THE WER WITH ROTT? HIS WIFE HIT HIM WITH A STOVE LID WERE YOU THERE WHEN IT HAPPENED? I SAW IT ALL WAS MISTER BOTH UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF ALCOHOL? A Named Head 10, Los Angeles named as general 34 University of Homecoming celeJ. S. C., December announced by Lewis etary of the TroCOURT OF THE CALIFORNIA County of Orange PUBLICATION OF G WILL, ETC. owner and holder of said note on account of the default in the payment of the installment which became due and payable under the terms of said note on November 1, 1933, and all payments due subsequently thereto, there being a total sum of $1,599.31 due and unpaid on the 9th day of July, 1934, and all payments due subsequently thereto—will sell at public auction, for cash, lawful money of the United States, and to the highest bidder, subject to lien and encumbrances prior to said deed of trust, the following described property, situate in the City of Anaheim, County of Orange, State of California: Lot Nine (9) and the Easterly fifteen (15) feet of Lot Eight (8) in Block "A" of the Lorelei Tract, as per map recorded in Book 29, page 21 of Miscellaneous Records of Los Angeles County, California, or so much thereof as shall be necessary to pay the principal, interest, advances, charges, costs and trustee's fees due and unpaid at the date of said sale. Dated October 29, 1934. BANK OF AMERICA NATIONAL TRUST AND SAVINGS ASSOCIATION, By R. D. Fuller, Trust Officer. And W. Dale Bell, Assistant Trust Officer. 11/1-8-15-22, 1934. BUSINESS DIRECTORY Ambulance Service Day or Night—Phone 3209 Backs, Terry & Campbell H. P. CAMPBELL, Resident Director 251 No. Lemon Street ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Phone 3212 Open Evenings Sunday by Appointment DR. OSHER PHYSICIAN & SURGEON Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Dentist—Painless Extration Oculist—Glasses Fitted 107½ E. Center Street ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Office Phone 3213 Residence 887 South Los Angeles St Residence Phone 2610 Hours: — 11-12; 2-4; 7-8 Telephone 4105 DeLuxe Ambulance Service J. W. Truxaw, M.D. PHYSICIAN & SURGEON Golden State Bank Bldg. BY TRUSTEE BY GIVEN that November, 1934, at Rock A. M. of saidance to the Hall of Santa Ana, state of California, NICA NATIONAL ASSOCIA-king association, certain Deed of SIE A. LOTTON, and recorded April 2, page 414 of Orange County, given to secure for the sum of and No/100 interest at the point per annum, being payable in cents of $21.00 each, each and every 1, 1981, in accounts of said deed appliance with a demand for sale the said deed of described, record-Book 688, page words of Orange executed by the Telephone 4105 DeLuxe Ambulance Service HILGENFELD'S FUNERAL HOME South Lemon at Broadway ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Office Phone 3213 Residence 887 South Los Angeles St Residence Phone 2610 Hours: — 11-12; 2-4; 7-8 J. W. Truxaw, M.D. PHYSICIAN & SURGEON Golden State Bank Bldg. Cor Center and Los Angeles Sts. ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Sash and Doors Nagel-Gohres & Co. 418 S. Lemon St. ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA ANAHEIM FEED AND FUEL CO. Dealers in GRAIN - FLOUR - SEEDS - WOOD - COAL - HAY Phone 3210 W. D. GRAFTON, Prop Public Weighing Scales 242 W. Center St. THERE IS A SPANISH PROVERB THAT 4 PERSONS ARE NECESSARY TO MAKE A GOOD SALAD-A SPECIALTREAT FOR OIL-A MISER FOR VINEGAR-A COUNSELLOR FOR SALT & A MANHAN TO STIR IT UP. LOCUSS ANNUALLY FLOCK OVER NORTHERN ARGENTINA THIS YEAR. 27,500 TONS OF THESE INSECTS HAVE BEEN DESTROYED BY FARMERS. GUESS ILL LOOK THIS MAP OVER & PLAN OUR NEXT TRIP THERE IS A SPANISH PROVERB THAT 4 PERSONS ARE NECESSARY TO MAKE A GOOD SALAD-A SPEEDTHRIFT FOR OIL-A MISER FOR VINEGAR-A COUNSELOR FOR SALT & A MADMAN TO STIR IT UP. LOCUSTS ANNUALLY FLOCK OVER NORTHERN ARGENTINA, THIS YEAR 27,500 TONS OF THESE INSECTS HAVE BEEN DESTROYED BY FARMERS. D FROM SEA WATER HAS BEEN THE RECENTLY AN AMERICAN PLANT OF WATER FROM THE OCEAN AND MERRED AND USGET THE SIZE OF A PINHEAD IN ENGLAND DURING THE 17TH AND 18TH CENTury THE "SLUGGARD WAKER" WAS A PERSON WHO WALKED UP & DOWN THE ASLES OF A CHURCH & AWAKENED ANYONE WHO FELL ASLEEP DURING THE SERVICE. By Charles McManus WAS MISTER GOTT UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF ALCOHOL? NO! HE WAS UNDER THE KITCHEN TABLE! C. McManus.