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Image provided by: George F Johnson Memorial Library
NEWS-BI8RA.TCH, THURSDAY, NOVEMBERS, 1930 Ramblin' Round the Town EST A PUSHED 1851 fabtished every Thursday at 124 Nmticoke Avenue, Endieott, N. * te U» Mews-Jtfaartt* Publishing Co., Inc. i The weather is sure versatile .cool—then warm—chilly — then ! sweltering— occasional drizzles — I rain—snow—part of the pleasure • of life—this weather uncertainty —lends a snap to tho feet—a pep SvtocriptJon Rate—In New York and Pennsylvania, $2.M a year m and fire—late Fall is the best advance.. All other territory in U. Si, Canada and Foreign. $3 .09 time of the year— per year in advance. j Everywhere talk about the ,$4tered as second class matter at the Post Office at Union, N. Y., | great game—who'll win?—prac- under'the Act of March 8, 1878. itiee sessions, at the Park—varsity ' off in a corner—secret drills— the THEODORE H. P. MORSE - Editor | scrubs absorbing fte lime««ht— v ^ - . the gaunt bleachers-^ strangely _ _ | empty and silent—awaiting their WEE£ ENDING THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1930 , single glorious moment—like the , »• , —. . j century plant—born for a solitary ' mn A KVBfTfrrKn .grand instant—then to fade away IHATUVablVlTVb into obscurity for a long period— jwhat a mass of humawty they Thanksgiving this year finite Atirerics In a varying j^JJ^^^^^WUng mood On one side we hear \Things are terrible, we are Condition.\ pulling for their team. *3 , Business is in a grecario\i§ , ...ff^ pep sessions -rthe long ' \ | snake-like parade — the stirring ililt of the band music—what a I From the other side we hear, \There's no use wor-| rying, it's only a temporary depression, it's nothing atj kll like, that of previous years. We pulled, out of themj all rijjHt; there's nothing to ifrat all\ . (. As'a'matter of fact, depressions are only part of the' natural Ia#s, of nature. We feel overly fil physically.' &ne day and flut.up like colts.. .The .next,we get a reac-j mon and donjt feel so good. One of the first of the na-j Sural laws'every young student of -Physics learns is: \TV svfer-y action there is an equal and ^opposite reaction.\ ^^LtT^year^J^jEemrouaity £>i Endicotymay .he- par- feu^^ aankfuJ-'dn^anksglving Day.-'With hardly n exception, this village has felt the nation-wide depres- on.Jess than any other sommunityJ^J}, h&gg or small. ^ ^employment is relatively \small^^i^^S^^hfiws-i^^^ ^4east-Derceptible inergase heij^Qf any^t^wn. or city as these figures' arechecked - at the fegislratioii Hhead- quarters they show many to be. those from out-of-town Or of a youthful age; Ih^fact over, \half <rf the registra tion may be discounted as.'needy cases. So when we celebrate this year, instead of feeling! sorry for ourselves and our apparent lack of prosperity,' Jet's gaze backward into those- days -when a hardy band of pioneers landed on these shores and in the face of more difficulties each year than the-average of us shall encounter in a lifetime, fought \througbrthe-nandicaps trfj 9 Btrange country, hostile natives,- disease, famine and myriad discouragements to found and settle what is now the greatest nation on earth. 4 Their blood flows in our. veins. Without the Strength engendered by their hardships and the courage gained froin their victories^ this generationmight - falter. *^ut yeare-of tradition and^progress lia^babind uar' Years Of unlalterng progress ifg^head^oi us. And. for the many benefits we-now enjoy, let us give thanks on the jjiorrow. thri]l—the air seems charged with an indefinable something — the spirit of American youth—a life of activity—of restlessness—in domitable — elderly bystanders look on — sympathetically — re membering their youth—their en thusiasms—their disappointments —and wish the youngsters well— The Kiwanis Follies of last week—thoroughly enjoyed —. theftraining—a responsive Ttudience—•*[ audience—spontaneous laughter and amusement—creditable * per formances—on the stage—a great amount of talent in the town—far better than the stereotype acting of professionals—thlf) amateur rendition—a great kick for the audience—but — we suspect — greater fun for the participants— we compliment the. Kiwanians oh tfieir Initiative — \in presenting such a production here—and the worthiness of the cause — for which it was held—scores, of kid dies—who never got an even break from life—will be made happy—through their efforts— The Bucknell Glee Club—also in the High School Auditorium— a remarkably large crowd—con sidering the counter-attractions of the evening—rare harmony— nothing so stirring—or spectacu?! lar—as a group of men—singing; —under capable direction—and generous applause—a great en tertainment—under the auspices Qf the Exchange Club—& group of young fellows—in a young and progressive service club. A FEW CRACKS FROM THE PATHFINDER A housewife remarked; I'm to havb IS 1 - t o ThanEsgivTng' dinner. Don't you pity me my job? \Why no,\ a neighbor counter ed, \you may be thankful that you have so many good friends to WHAT JJA S CONE B&I-UK E <*ilci Chi it- nam scb to J c F-irow love liim, inten-Iiag to tluow* IJCI a » cr tn revenge for the sutc wie <J, Li s 3ioilier Uodn< >, whom J jl.e B..J ca«t oif He *ucc( ok, but bud* t'.at U<? has fallen desperately Iti love wtffi Iicr TmnselY. Then be discos er* that it was ttot tshis Julie bar r.> + . but tier cousin ot tl*<. tsruc name, who Had dnvea his brutblr to' death. Hut Gites ii married, to m jAinrrtcan Ctrl no met! S-tdie-JUrrotv, wnh w-mn he •baj.Ji'** Uveti {or Makint « ^ItUiiin A friend of mine who is still under thirty-five has made • fortune, and I asked him how be did it \I've been to your office several times,\ I said, \but you seem seldom to be there.\ \No I don't go to the office every day,\ he answered. \A good deal of the time I just sit and look out the window and think \\\ l..n 1 make a decision I go out and put it into effect, and a li tie more than half the time I have had the good luck t<> be r-.ght When I find I have made a mistake, I sit down and say 'Now what did I do wrong' Were my facts inac curate, or did I draw bad conclusions' How am I going to avoid that same mistake again?\ I knew another man who owned a small but profitable business. He- was methodical in his habits. On a certain day of each month ha stayed away from (he office, and everybody in his employ knew that the old man was \thinking\ From breakfast time until sun-down on such a day he would sit before «{h ppep fire or on an open porch, without pen or pencil or paper, or records or reports, and quitely think. He attributed his modest success to this unvarying habit. Henry Ford remarked to me once that \thinking is the hardest job there is\ and added that he could get plenty of doers but not enough thinkers. Most of us know from our own limited experience that thinking is hard, and we have insulated ourselves against it by a restless and noisy environment We are afraid tn be found in a small audience, terribly afraid to be alone Our unwillingness to take trips, or to retire, is not dictated so much by loyalty to the job as it is by the hauntmg fear that, removed from the protecting clatter of daily activity, we shall have \too much time to think\. Emerson tells the story of \a man who on his death-bed called to him his profligate son and left him large possessions, only exacting of him the promise to spend an hour every day alone The son kept hi? word and became a wise and good man \ Tn another passage F.merson remarks that \the gods and the wild heasts are both fond of solitude. thought makes the difference between the solitude of the god and that of the lion \ Solitude and thought are responsible for the considerable fortune of the young fnend whom I quoted at the beginning. I pass on his recipe frep to all I have not been able to apply it myself —having been too bu<y 'i! ~.i.'a » II ,n aiiMfccr i the un- . % n .cii cr*' V. Ii-rtr. II. .i ^ r. Ui. tde lur— •» il. be to h r ilut wr a wild nii 'incut >hc th.ui.-ht lu .nu,f be poinij to take her in hn arm>. and lief heart alutti^t stujd still, and ihen went, rac ing t>n a^ain so \i <>lentl> that it ^CffflcU t>) U- chokinr iicr Aqd.«hc Ipukcd L'. I clesperate;y, , meerios his eyes fcicl upon her with. surSi a look if Live a'ml Ionpi ig in them that it iv.-u n ire thoftV-hW conld bear. She \j uhe ( £ hj^said,pleadingly. -Ire ' &aid' ' nothing. She hardly si-ciivd to be listening, and he let hit an t (all from about her \I ihall s*e«\yoii tiJ-morrow,\- J S- It no answer, -ayd after a moment he. went cut into the little hall .and \opened t£e front door lie was so sure she wpuld call to „r„„„ „.„ »„u ,~ir him, perhaps rdrf after him: He was so*, 7 °Y>. ^ sure that in a moment \She would be U i -\Friends!\ was her scornful re- .... ..... —, ^ ^...v. .Melius arms, her lips crushed against his --Ply \they're enly relatives! COT JSTifTmat .Socv -tw ri*r •fo-xvi8F-,-gfrs3--.g<{<: she\ Ms Keart-^aTs-. -• —- — f • Miss Culn—Tlust*adore \SmarT *':',Pf'^-/-' -% -But.Julie^did ««t ^nove^^nd sbji fo^yj^ • • Julie. --He nararfit«*er hands ni gave no sign.' , , . c \ hK--^J^t'ir^^^jVh-«r -^K3j M ^f e n^rtenTiarn looked baacT\ torsive me, that you don't hate me. _ \Tuliel\ ter. Lombard , wh o ha j lirst introducr d he r Cbliirfllum . acimimi morijy trim UH:a wtUi li>e tlireat tlu t if b? is oot paid he a ill tell 3cKcacld that Chittenha m an d Jalie Ipect cb t n|3fat whether on the St. Bernar d Late r Juli e mnfrsm t o Chlttcnluua thai she lore s him. r a spiritualist twice at Giles* mother' s *M.U<C Sadi e Brurov. his. wife, aoddenl y goe s blisd. Slve C^UB t o him an d h e responds , revcaluitf the Jac t that ah* i s hU wife. Julie , a • Has seat Schofietd away becaus e of he r if i> for Chittenham. icoes home in despair. i>\ \ GO ON WITH THE STOHY |jhe moved with difficulty. Sbc was :uld and aclung in every limb. She tapped off her wet clothes and put on warm dressing;-Kovni, her hands were il> ikinK with cold. ^Ue « as yrrnrintj the water f mm -the: irttie »hen a knock came on the front • r— a heavy knock that sounded both Ij.'nt and insistent. Bim, perhaps' Julie put the kettle down and flew < the little hall. Bim. dear Bim. ) ilie felt as if already ha i her trou bles were lifted from her as the drew »c k the latch—then she gave a little Uroking cry. \You—r •'Yes~you must let me come in, luUe^' .Chittsnbam said, and without 1 that -cms Tmrln-rhiTirt\ ; - j**Ir^ Flush---i»r-itd6 -3 ;\ii3to!i- avsr the radio* and care little fair those foreign stagers:— 1 mother, didn't- grandma' have any legs?\ . , ter gazing t off some mpme^ls.?at 4 Dusty Jke—TPiesae, iiiiv-EKtL-ftlthe-pfctu^ It was customary for the con gregation to repeat the k 23rd Psalm in unison, but invariably Mrs. Spielfast would keep about dozen words ahead all the rest. \Who\, asked a visitor of an old church member one Sunday, \was the lady who was already by the still waters while the rest of us were lying down in green pas tures t\ I Little Bobbie, aged four, seeing a full length picture of his grand- -J-J- - MinHiff^DoTbTTb'uF^oW-l^|nTother''f6r -the - first time!—\Batd r«n»w:-»ai«»;.juiie f far-give me, that yon don't hata tat, that y^.tjadtrstand'' «usc.Tbusfinsta3itJy tot Sotaeminje icrent—strange about him—something Oat killed both the mingled hope and tuner that struggled for supremacy in .^ncr heart She felt that it she went to his arms she would he repulsed— that if she showed him bitter scorn it «voiild leave him unmoved—(hat noth- Ins could touch him. 'I had to come—I'm sorry if you ire angry with me—but I had to come —just to say good-bye—\ He turned and half raised his head, looking at Julie. Then suddenly bis face changed—it was as if the strange ness were wiped; out of it in a smfte flash.*giving place to such a look of •nutterable pain that Julie caught her breath in an involuntary cry. \To say good-bye, \5Tot like this, Julie, we- can't pari \Yes\—he took a i|uicL step towards like this— till, my dear, dear child—\ ber and th <-ii stopped—\Sadie is blind,\ She was in his arms, her face hid- le said. den on his shoulder, bit lips against lulic stared at him. her eyes blank,, Q er hair, while he wl-.spered over and her lips parted then alter a long mo- ove r again how mum he loved her, nicnt \What ri .i \ou mean'\ shc,\°* ™ly 'he filled his heart. But wrtfi&g;. -There is- nothing wer carr dp; we roust just go on. I always knew it would be like this, even last night. There 's nothing we can do. J snail knarry Lawrence Schofield, I suppose, if he will take me bitk again—'' \Tnlie—don't be crael-? \I am not M cruel as yon are. never wanted you to come into my life. It was you who followed me. With a smothered sob she tamed to rush past him to the door. But Chit tenham was too quick for ber, he. reached the door before she did, bar ring; her way. *Xet me go—let aw n.\ She beat at Urn with In ^oteat faiUM, the tears- raining down bat hs*> \Ob. what could he do 3 Ii only she would littl e .inpatient > n him what he c ? tld do 5 Sut Julie lu. n/> answer, and presently her bit- R-hispered . ' ''littenhari made ' C -u. r « .u— « , * • .. . ,ter sobbing ceased, and she lay quietly lust mat— v hat I have said. she\„ h,. a™, t. „™. .u. .„i;» M ™i.i I iilind—apisarently sh e has felt it c.n-JU g aud been dreadiuv i t fo r JOB PRINTING DEPARTMENT Can Serve Your Printing Requirements pionths. Thai is wl\y >hc <aiiie from |\-nerica without telfing me —she went I, see some German specialist-l don't y my!eU cart :»w yet what he ujld her, she was| )t would ^ r0a . mi ^_ YAJ ill and frightened to be yery co- • - - - kerenL And then this tellow Chryer tn topioi it all—yon heard what he |aid about tome one in the room never feeing [the sunshine again. Didn't te speak of blindness—darkness^God Lows what! The fellow should be locked tip. Sadie took it to herself. \ course, and the sudden shock fin- it, perhaps it would hare hap anyway, the doctor thinks so, ut even he cannot tell, he says she y temporarily recover 'IT sight—if doesn't—\ He stopped abruptly, and Julie said h a shaking voice. \How awful I How perfectly aw Jul.\ So it was. She felt shocked, stunned Ind yet it was quite impartiallr every Ither emotion was clouded ovc stifled ii those first words which Chittenham ^ad spoken t o her. \I had to come, just to say good bye.\ What bad he meant by that? Good bye I How could they ever say good lye after last night? He had said pen that they would never jart again. fhittenham went on \T was sure you would understand. •/hat a difference it makes, I was surej lou would try to help me, Julie—dear! Vou see, she hasn't any one but me, rou see, there are some things it's im- Dnssible for a man to do when a I oman's ill—and frightened—I couldn't leave her, how could I? You see— rou wouldn't wish it, would you? It Would be like—like trampling a-woman Sown to reach our happiness, a blind R 'iman, too, so defenceless;—I—I—\ He broke down hopelessly What ('•uld he say What excuse or ex planation could he offer that would (mind plausible or justified? He tried to take her hand, but she d-e-.v it sharply away. She felt that she could bear anything, be brave pver everything, if only 'he would not (ouch her He was right in what he said. Of course he was right. Sadie was his wife, and his place was to stand by her No man could do less, she herself would despise him if he Hid less and yet—behind' everytliing (i panic-stricken cry was trying to make itself heard in her heart \What about me? What nrst, after a long silence. \I'm sorry I cried, it was silly I And so useless. After all, it's no more than I expected—I always 'knew ti I let myself care for any one \ \ She drew away from him. \1 think you had better go before I make another scene for you to remember me by.' She wiped her eyes and tried to smile \It's all right—please go now— 1 She averted her eyes. \Please go now, and please never come back again.\ It was what Chittenham had wanted her to say. with all a man's dislike of scenes and suffering, he had hoped that she would refuse to listen to him and send him away, but now that she had done so, he knew it was not what he had wanted, after all. He had wanted her to keep him against his better judgment, be had clung to the belief tliat she would trj to keep him from 'sadie. for whom he had no feeling but the merest pity— a pity that was not and never coiild be, akin to love. With Julie sobbing in his arms it had seemed impossible ever to let her go—he loved her so much—no woman had ever before stirred his heart and his imagination—no woman ever would. If they never met again it would be .the samr always she was his, they were made for each other He thought of his wife a« she had been when he left her an hour ago, frantic with fear, crying and sobbing it made him shudder to remember tne way *he had chins to him. begging him not to leave her \After all. you're my husband, and I've got nobody eUe in the world. I know I haven't been as nice to you as I might have been, but don't leave me now I'm blind, don't leave me. Giles. Oh, my God, what will become of me?\ The pathos of her was heart-break ing Sadie, who had always been so independent, so free, to be clinging to him like this, imploring him not to leave her. She was his wife, he was pledged to her by honor And yet now that Julie had told him to go— lie broke out passionately \How can you think of marrying Schofield? What happiness would it be for you if you\ rion't love him—\ \I don't expect to be happy.\ Julie laughed shaken!y. \Anyway it can-1 about; not matter to you any longer. Please j go away and leave me.\ r .Se-wait^aniScnent. hui-tic-.jiiruix remained, unbroken, and he went ouL of-tbe -iaa^stotuiitf tlstr-docfyjehinc 1 ! him. t ' • - It seemed to Julie that she stooc for hours, leaning against the wall her body-so tired mat it was^too moti effort even to move over to the fir* and a comfortable chair. Her head ached miserably. With a rap rem* effort the dragged herself across th) roam to the fire. It had liurnt.doviaV and she replenished it with shaking hands. She felt as if already a life time had passed since OiiHfnhanl came to the flat and yet only a mo ment ago he had been there with hsm to close that the had but to put am her hand to touch him, and now hi ha^gopsx Wck V) Mr*, back to htj him 3i pinch? Tonka—'You should hear my usband holler when he gets the Jtiem. Business Man—I tan give von a job next week. Dusty Ike—Too late! She'll able to go to work herself then Fake—Lucinda paints and pow ders a good deal, doesn't she? Bosch—Yes, when you kiss her it's just like eating a marshmal- low. Oe SONG oftkVy .A^. «J« ^ will never willingly see again,\ Julie told herself passionately, \J£ C V.... .1 I . } T 'tl has deceived me twice. I never forgive him as long as I live She got up almost violently ai though driven by the sudden reactiotl of thought. She would send at once to Scho-\ field. She would not lose a moment. She went to the 'phone and callci his number, but it was only after a long time that the hotel people amid give her any news of him. He was out at the moment, they said, but he was certainly returning that night. There was a little pause—then \Mr Schofield is leaving London early to-morrow morning\ \Leaving—\ Julie felt as if her last anchor had been torn from her—the waves of mis ery and utter loneliness seemed to beat up afresh all round her The vbice at the other end of the 'phone asked politely if a message could be taken. \No—oh no, thank you.\ Julie hung up the receiver and turned away. Lawrence was leaving London, leaving her! —she was seized with exaggerated panic What was: to become of her? ^ Even Bim wa< weary of her, there was no place fof her in the world. But Lawrence had loved her, must surely still love hers She remembered the despair I.I hit eyes when she told him she would niH marry him. If she could only see him for a mo< ment she was confident that every* thing would be alt right—to see him just to see him 1 She felt like a chil. left alone in the dark, straining ever; nerve to get to the one person whe can take away dread and the desolate sense of loneliness. She took off her loose gown and dressed again with shaking fingers, she was still very cold, but her fac< and head felt burning She would put herself beyond Chit' tenham's reach, to-morrow when hi came he should find it to late If Lawrence would take her av.aj to-night she would go with him. Sh was tired of hoping for things tha never came true, afraid of a love tha brought with it only pain. She wen out into the wet, chilly night and tern! a taxi. She drove straight to the hotel where Uawrence was staying. Not he was not in yet, and they could not say at what hour he would be re turning. It was past nine then. 'Til wait a little while and sec U Mr Schofield returns,\ Juiie said. The minutes ticked away, and latei she supposed that she must have falla into a stupor, out of which she wa roused with a start to' the sound o a Chiming dock. Julie walked acre* to the porter. \I cannot wait any longer, I wif c j leave a note for Mr Schofield.\ CONTINUED NEXT WEEK she got a spare tire over her head tor?\ TT^T Wilfred\ retnrning irom. ;cl?ireli exclaimed:, \Moj^heir 1 fpx(^ a glove, and I would \have fonnd'the other one, too, only'the man was sitting on it\ \ v Ruth) aged four, lives in the country. Seeing a sn**dinc.' mo torist leaving a trail of duat 'she ran to her mother saying: \Oh mother, that -woman scared all the |^irt^ut-of^tha-*oadVi—ias-— REMEMBER OR FO By Hamilton Aid* I sat beside the streamlet, I watched the water Bom. As we together watched it One little year ago: The soft rain pattered on the The April grass was wet Ah I folly to remember; 1% wiser to forget The rrigtirlngales made vocal Jrjoe/s'pahce paved with goMi I watched the rose you gave me Its warn red heart unfold; Bat breath of rose and bird's Were frxnght with wild regret T» n^adoess to remember; Twere wisdom to forget I stood among the gold corn, Atsal lab *iore, I knew, (To gather gleaner's measure Of the late that (ell from yarn. Foe me, no gracious harvest— Would God we ne'er had meet Tit bard, Love, to remember, Basf 'fas harder to forget. The strtamlet now is froze*, TJje nkhtrngales are fled. Tbc WfafitkU are deserted, And every rose is dead. I s'rtcbeiide my lonely fire, And pray for wisdom yctt For calmness to remember. Or courage to forget. BILLBOARDS The war agafnst defacing the scen- er> and endangering the lives of high way travellers by advertising bill boards is gaining new recruits daily. The latest is the Fox Film Company, which has announced its abandonment iof billboard advertising in favor of >»cwipa.perj. Newspapers are better advertising media, the Fox people say, and of that there is no possible ques tion. If there were no other argue- iment against billboards, that should be enough. Safety on the highways depends upon every driver keeping hit eyes on the road. There should be no sign boards by the roadside, except those which call attention to the wares of the roadside retailer on the spot direc tion markers and signs established by the highway authorities to indicate the condition of the road ahead. * * * \SPPRT» Two-thirds of what passes for ''sport\ in the United States is pare commercialism, ^ Some of the, inside of the \beating •fUMt\;. wa* -revealed jthe other- when /a' '.fight, promoter bued Gene Tunney' for.-half a million dollars, claimed-as commission for atv decided against (he claim, but i n the (uurse of the testimony the whole busi ness of prize-light promotion was'ex posed as the mone> -making scheme Which it is. There isn't any reason why people who hke boxuig and wrestling matches, professional loscball or col lege football or any of the other so- tailed \spurts\ which are promoted for tlie big gate-money, iliould not go to see them. It is a degradation of the K-ord \sport\, however, to call »uch I >ings sporting events They are in the same class of entertainment as the lircus and the movies. • • » DUPONT Although related to one of the l irhest families in the world, T Lole- f un Du Pont started in li fe with milli ng but his bare Ipnds and a keen Inind. He worked ii a coal miner, tvitb pick and shovel, in a coal mine f ihich he later owned. He loved to uild, but cared little for the thing te had built after it was done When he Du Pont powder industry was dy ing of dry rot and his cousins, who owned it, wanted to sell out, Coleman Du Pont offered to take hold and sco what he could' do. He built the busi ness up into one of the most impor tant industrial corporations in the World, and then retired to do some thing else. A great American passed away, when Coleman du Pont died at the age of 66. » « » MATING The bead of the Westfield, N. J t schools, told a convention of school (iurses the other day that one of thJ things wMch high school students i hotild be taught ii how to seject tlicit uture husbands or'wives, and how tsj fudge the Women. characters of men That I s extremity practical sulvlee. The problem of mating wisely is the inc I uincult one which the young iru .i . yuung woman faces, ind the one in which he or she usually has had less help from parents than ir. any other uf the problems of real life Three-quarters, at least, of all the marital difficulties which have brought the divorce rate up so high in this country, arise from tlie fact i!iat young folks have had no iustrcLiiun at all as to the qualities in the other sex winch make for married haj>pi- ncas. In a completely civilized state, the proper mating of young huriau beings .uUJ be regarded as of e-|ual importance with the proper mating of livestock. * • * CASH- Within the next three weeks *he largest amount of cash newly put i <o circulation at one time will find s way into the tills of merchants over the country. That is the annul distribution of the Christmas (.\l.i!\. maintained by 8,000 banks. Flcirn million persons have been dc|K,s.-i,ig small amounts every week since the first of the year, in order to act- 1 mu tate a furjd for Christmas buying I he average in these Christmas argi> mts is $56.40 this year, but the grand t-iul runs to six hundred and twelve mil lion dollars. Not all of the money uill he spent for Christmas presents. Some will go. into permanent savings and invest ments, tome to pay off debts incurred during the year, some for other pur poses. About a third will be sperir for gifts; but alt of the six hum! rd million'' will change hands, and it is money changing hands that makes business good. The faster it changes hands, the better business is. The stimulus of, this, immense, sum starting to circulate again should go a long\ way toward restoring pros- . perity.
