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THE ENDICOTT TIMES, THURSDAY, DEC. 25, 1930 THE ENDIGOTT TIMES ESTABLISHED 1851 Published every Thursday at 124 Nantieoke Avenue, Endlcott, N. Y, by J- M. Lloyd LIFE'S LITTLE JOKES-NUMBER 57.39P SnbscriDtion Bate—In New York and Pennsylvania, $2,60 a year in. attee! All rfher territory in U. S.. Canada and Foreign, $3.00 per year in advance. x , Entered as second class mat&r at the Post Office at Union, N. Y., under the Act of March 8, is?a. Phone: Endlcott 1371 THEODORE H. PaMORSE* — Editor and Manager WEEK ENDING THURSDAY, DECEMBER.25,a93Q CHRISTMAS THE AIR, The beauty of a dazzling, pure -white blanket of snow on distant hills pleasantly relieved by the peaceful calm of graceful evergreens; a silvery, glittering river flowing slowly through the valley, winding, twisting, calm and reposed through all the bustle of busy Christ mas shoppers; automobiles plying their speedy way along crowded streets—depicting the contrast between Christmas itself and the pre-Christmas days of activity. The myriad phases of Christmas and the Christmas spirit as we find them in the present holiday season are u no (or ^ apt reminders of the long years of Christmas celebra- That's ail finished. Don't look so turns. Early days of hilarity, Ucentiousness, drinking ^S^^LfoJ^JZ- bouts, feasts, dances and wild gambling; days when the Hf'irji ^ \ such * ^ps-^ giad , ' _ . , °. J . . i to nave seeo you again—it Imrts, the observance of a Christmas was forbidden even m Amer- . . -t . ica; later days when as now, Christinas is observed with a spirit of unselfishness, brotherhood, and peacefully calm celebration: The observance oFa'libTictay celebration in late l)g- c&nber begins in history even earlier, than the inifial date of mythological' tales. Legend tells H9* ttet far be fore the events of men weiy written; various tribe? iieid feasts and dances in celebration as the sun began its up? ward climb toward tne Ioii'ger days of the year. WHILE ft sixseer UTTT.6 HAM ANC» eAcrt CAY\ ne OAME * TALKS OM THe RfXTilc, TOO: OFTCM Qoee^LX - sett /VJe, HEBE'S -me KIMI^ or- A TALK. THAT AMNATOLIS GAMe, By ROBE GOLDBERG t \WILL /JouS Wl3 &6 ^4 Houi TO pRo^ecr t&ot?- OM A, 'OARK; STReMSTJ^* ^RUBY M.AYRES Final installment you sent me about my busi- tn mythological days^Ipng'before-the birth of Christ, superstition^ was'-rampant' as the winter approached. Various -feasj; days were appointed and grew uTnripbrt- ance^as.^e.amfiJIpratiqn.. .6j£jthe., v^ath.. of. the, Qpds. her came'Weoessary^\'\ • aj \ ' \\' ' '* The .gjvingr of presents at Christmas time originated with the starry night on whichthe Saviour was born, when the Three Wise Men bore gifts of gold, frankin cense and myrrh to be laid at the feet of the manger- cradled babe of Bethlehem. In commemmoration of this heaven-sent'gift, the cus tom of returning tne gift has' become umversai, not by the direct giving'dTpresenta to the Sayionr, bntTy the |gl - v e „ ^^ i _: agahu:i ^ h ^,\ giving \of -pW(&ter1^dii*7fe^^ -~- —^-Sl the trar^teatn^^Sra^lv^nife* lir the r^ligiov based upon the OiristMJuldfs teachings. Tinroughout ^the entire Ctoistian'world ttie observ : way ness. . . .\ \I shall never forgive myself, Julie.\ \You must j there isn't anything really to forgive. I wasn't too. kind to you either, Lawrence—\ \Von gave, me-the-only- ba\. have- ever wrownr antlj t\ 3 * >s why-Tf «^ti^give--yw-ycHnJ : ^allpnJess/ , • She drew back sharply. \Why—what da you mean?\ -Thar\ Chittenham. He's a fine fellow, Julie; and you mean everything' in the world to him. There was a .time whety.-I fated him, but lafrly f nmy «> tmVtir- stand eacir other— I' can see^wbyftl never stood a chance when he was concerned^-\ • \^f: \Whit do you mean? How aire you say such things'to me? 1 m l dare- aqytlna^tt£ifcmcanV''y6ffi:. happiness.'* > -' \My happiness is no concern of yours—\ She turned, and began to walk away from him. Her heart'was beating fast add her eyes burned with the- tears which she dared-not let fall. In the evening Schoficld called-at the little hotel. He brought a Urge bunch of, roses and he tossed her hands as she took the flowers from hinu \'. \Say you \forgive me, Julie?\ \Of course I forgive yottT But .in hrr.. heart she lmew^-Uiat-if- cared lit him, forgiveness would not] terra been^c^ttilfeT^Of'co^e'FfarH effort: ''but in return you must prbra- ise^ me - somethinrr \Will you ;~Lai?-\ rence?\ ^4can-^kaowI wuXJ', jV Then protmse;me\th»t you will not* tell^any c«'|n-lk>oc^i%here^.ane*; ' He hesitated,' and she iaidgagaw sharply^JMo»Ko£ i n ToaTintiit'- iseVme-notjto^tefe^jrChir-' , . ,... , . T »»-ej7ae *.vn'T\*-» - r -m f » ~j .*'\^Scnofi<3d^^Vi6kedyja<iiay. from bcri teal^l^CT^ce ; ns^TOeisinarKed^tnt3jespmt-^ ; > ftsnness, beauty,\ and simplicity, and ig growing 1 in inji Ju*™ ti &v.* zj° j«» think & portance as the years roll by. \I^t«*he irai come\ _{t was the same day in. the list of visitors in the paper who were ex pected at the Palace Motel Caux for Christmas that Julie saw Giles Chit- tenham-'s name. She was glancing down the list with out much interest, wondering if any one she had knoyvn in England might by chance be mentioned there, when suddenly, his name seemed to leap out at her fn letters of fire. \Mr. Giles Chittenham and his fiancee Miss Beatrice Neale—\ There followed, a little chatty para graph about thenMiut Julie read no more. She ^stood with j |h« paper eltfclgajnrheyfanfl^eold turthelipr.j He had fdryoUen her to soon—hp 1 was to be; married to another woman. the answer came. \It was to the 'St Bernard that Mademoiselle wished to go. For days she has talked of nothing else. I told her she must take a guide—she was disappointed but she said she would let me know\ \To the St Bernard I\ Chittenham stifled a groan. He might have known—might have guessed. It seemed now to his despair that he bad been a.blind fool ,not to .realise from the beginning that she\ would mmi* tn thi« ptarf, that WaiT rv, needed a chancc'photograph- to .guide Her lips\ quivered as she said in a voice'all broken with gobbing: ne=ygu^belottti-to me—^ \\Tr.*- jBun had.cften said bitterly That \no iinin oiuiit-be-^ahhfn}- and-JufieTaal not4)eli eyed, her.. WelLJshe. believed her. now-r-aind such a tide of hatred andLdespair rose in her heart that^he wat-afraid. ptnree'^nes Giles'Ttta iWick -M get\ r^mei ^&te^'Jmade-her^Set bey^'raUJealjirMicV-and' ;nbw><she *Xtn ^irW'aW.st*' met n».woman;*ho kept thej house^aj she.gla«^;up\ai.tne : »ky. I'Shbuld apt ^-^...^^nie ^i/nicTe^snciw 1 to one; mmKtaoit.'midiH%$g •» l \I not going far,\ Julie takland Anrped in. * The re^kable^enlihusiaim'.and the excellence of touched his\ aW \Ar^jw are tfc' \Ves... .yes, t suppose sa\- SHel \ The woman dosed the dob>' i&?ffi£S*r wbich;jWiU 'gB : d6wn,hi history \as one of.a g ^t>biisinesst ^'•vAm-hvtm&ipmeifcibei'iri NE day wheal I was working at my first job and was—• ... on table* in the deserted salon. She dragged her few clothes from the drawers in .the little painted chest, and hurricoly packed them. fferSjnly' thought was to avoid see ing Giles Chittenham. \It 's alt over, that part of my life— it 's finished for ever,' she told herself over and over again. \I don't want him now —I don\t even want to see himt I could never forgive him or believe in him again.\ went back to'her warm kitchen. She told her -husband who. was. sitting smoking his pipe' by the stove, that-Ft was k good'thing MIis Langdon^was !eaVmg -7 ^»thiCsbe.''wisl>ed -ner>to go for she liked her well : enough, bin because now'she: could get three.times as\much-'inoneyfo*f\ber > roouL \There was a knock at the front door, and'she broke off in what she was saying to see who the visitor might be. him. They trampled-on in a silence-whids Outtenham fcrplce, at_ last to___ash curtly t \Is it ever possible to. find, any. one -orho gets lost on soch' a night . > \ThW have been • fctmd?^ften--\ \.Mm??• - .. ^•A^lpK--did,;tic*-answer .this; and Gaes:cTai^'i^pi^*e.o^ti^ «Tt^iito-n*\»^=\eirrrtnornmr.fltU. th^snO^^^-;falUiSt?.''It 4nf get ting light then—thefaint'outUneof tfar iribun&uns- began, to' stand.; out aigainsi tbe-'darkness as if drawn by a ghostf/ y'pnyenham was nearly worn 5 oat, tMrtthe! refused to go back, or to rest although the others often argad ,id;dbjo, ? , ••^S&ili.-\ ^ there Is an inn wbere A tall man in a big overcoat stood Jibe men into the warmth,\ stamping thcre^—he asked for Miss Langdon.''' •—-• —•« * great He spoke eagerly as if with excitement. \She has but 'a moment gone out— if Monsieur would put himsdf to the great trouble «f-eoming in to waiL\ \I will certainly wait\ „, , . i It had begun to'snow afresh, and the She told the landlady thai she was j shoulders of Chittenham's coat were | needless to say—hard up, I developed a severe pain. A stranger in New York, I had read in the newspapers the name of a diagnostician who was internationally famous. I went to his office, which was in his beautiful home, at eight o'clock in the horning. The waiting room was already full. There was a rich man who tugged impatiently at his watch. There was a haughty woman. And there were also half a .dozen shabbily dressed folk, including a poor mother with a very sick baby. Without favoritism, each was ushered into the consultation room in the order of his arrival. Presently my turn came I said to the doctor \1 can not afford to consult you, but my health is my entire business capital Therefore, I feel that I simply must come to headquarters.\ He gave me a careful examination, wrote a prescription* and told me that 1 would be all right again in a few days. I pulled out my pocket book, which contained two weeks' salary \How much are you earning?\ he asked I told him $25 a week \Well if you'll promise not to tell anybody,\ he answered, \111 charge you five dollars.\ In the intervening years I have become the father of three children, and my salary has been raised a couple of times. I have-had occasion to employ several physicians and three, dif ferent surgeons. Some of tne bills have amounted to hundreds of dollars. But I have never received a bill that seemed to m'e unreasonable or even adequate, considering the importance of the service rendered. I have known several doctors who married rich wives, and some who made money in real estate or the stock market. I have met a number who gained modest fortunes from their j practise, but none who became really rich. And the amount of free work done by even the biggest I men in the profession has always been a marvel to me. leave, Julie suddenly As an advertising man and a former sales manager, I feel i longing to climb the that the health business is still too much an old-fashioned one. I should like to see dozens of big clinics in every f ity, each •with its group of specialists. I should like to see them use newspaper advertising, and draw most of their revenues from the healthy rather than from the seriously ill I believe that if we Americans paid twice as much to good doctors every year •It' would be the best money we could possibly spend. Some developments of this sort will come in the next •gen* eration. They are beginning already. Meanwhile, I feel a greaj sense of gratitude to the doctors. \If my experience is typical $hey arc a swell group of men. g'.mg back to England but at the sTarion,'she'took a tffEcl to Lausaiuie \He will never think ni looking for me there,\ she told herself exultantly \He wilt think it is the last place I should ever go back to.\ 'ihe changed her name to Langdon and took a room in a little old-fash- ixiicd chalet overlooking the lake, and when she f<-und the time beginning to hang impossibly rm her hands, she advertised for pupils to whom to Inch English. F >r one thing she needed the money a< >l fur another, she felt that she u mid go mad if she could not find •M i upation. Hut except at intervals she was not r M'PY \nd so the late summer and the mi imn passed, and the cold winds *.ui>e, and the grey days, and the u -\Hrtains were hidden in veils of What was Giles doing? One night On- dreamed of him so vividly that she uas sure he must be somewhere near lirr and for two days she was afraid 1'. no out fnr fear that she might meet him. \I will go home,\ she told herself, and tried to believe that it was sheer limging for England that drew her, ard that the presence of Chittenham made nu difference \I will go home for Christmas,' she decided, and from that moment her spirits rose, and the people in the hnuse smiled when they saw the change in her \She has had good news,\ they told one another, and were quite sure that it was an unhappy love affair that had hitherto caused the sadness in Julie's eyes. And then a week before she was to fdt a great St. Bernard once more. She made enquiries and was told that she could not go without a guide: \It is a dannerous time of the year,\ she was warned. white as he stepped into- -the—little-' hall-way He had been visiting some people in London whose daughter had come home for the Christmas holidays from school in Switzerland. She had been •.he .wins amateur photographs of her sch>»>l friends, and amongst them was one of Julie Giles had been bored by her chatter, and had pushed the photographs aside when she pressed one more upon his notice \That 's Miss Langdon^ who comes to teach the bwiss girls English. She's a darling \ And he had looked down into Julie's face ( And now he was here—in a few mo ments he would be with her, and hold ing her in his arms. He walked over to the window and stood looking out How long would she Be? Every moment seemed an eternity. \1 will wait here till Miss Langdon comes in,\ Giles said obstinately But at ten o'clock she had still not returned. Giles went to the front door and looked out, followed by Adolph. The snow was falling so thickly that one could hardly see a yard ahead, there was a deep menace in the unbroken silence. Chittenham looked at the man be side him. \Well'\ he said sharply struck by something in Adolph 's eyes. \It would be good now to look for Mademoiselle,\ Adolph said. \I have friends—good fellows all I{ Mon sieur wishes it—\ \ \Let us start at once.\ Giles broke in. He was afraid of the fear in his heart, he was conscious of nothing but despair when an hour later be was stumbling along through the blinding, dogging snow with Adolph and half a dozen other men. The lanterns they carried shed weird, dancing shadows on the white ness of thrir feet, the flakes whirled in their faces half choking them. It. was as if all the human force had I ranged themsdves as enemies against! be can rest—the people who' keep the inn-are friends of tmne,\ Adolph said: i.\But it was half an boor before their reached, it—« smalt unpretentioas lime' ba0dtng of wood, standing/back frcm the r'cadway 'atia by- great drifts of. snow.. -Adolph tramped up ta the door and knocked; there were lights in several of the windows, and the .door was opened almost immediatdy, to admit my the naked snow and ice from then* boots. Chittenham dropped on to the near est bench. It was not fatigue so rrocfa as despair that bad beaten him. Like a man in a dream he heard Adolph calling for brandy and hot coffee. He leaned back and dosed his eyes. . Everything seemed whirling about him; it was only the rough but kindly touch of Adolph's hand on his shoulder that roused him. Mademoiselle is here—with friends,'' he said Here!\ Chittenham stared up at the man's kindly face with dazed, un believing eyes. \Here I . Oh, for God's sake, if it is hot true . .\ \It is quite true—they found her along the road ' last night—in the snow. She was lost—the poor lady I They brought her here and put her to bed, but she is ill .\ Chittenham staggered to his feet. \Let me see her—let me-be sure .. .** He followed the daughter of the house up the narrow, creaking wooden stairs. There was a shaded lamp burning on a bedside table, and its light fell full on her -face which was half turned from him. Chittenham gave one glance— «Julie! Oh; thank God 1\ He bent his head and pressed his lips to her hand again and again, kissing her fingers, and wrist, and soft warm palm, till suddenly she stirred restlessly and turned For a moment the lay quite still, staring up at him with far-away, dreaming eyes, then suddenly the tears welled up into them, ana her lips quivered as she said in a voice all broken with sobbing: \Oh you belong to me—you bdoug to me—\ \Always—always . . \ She began to cry weakly. \You were so long coming to tire— I thought you didn't care any more.\ \Julie—\ His voice broke; he slipped an arm beneath her head, drawing it to rest against him. She drew back a little, the tears wet on tier face; her voice broken with pitiful sobbing as she asked once more- \Oh do you still bdong to rrier\ . . . and Chittenham answered again as he bent to find her lips— \Always always . . . always.\ Ren ttie dp^e-gidy mas a\4--yetc2e' .And Tabled the herd.mithaflying mane, Thentfae idle cioyg, a£ the «£bTtroere done, AnduYt&bx>vo:}^caiazfa}3^'txac£ and rein So toe *snubbe& \rcn up'al the *crxubbing post/ Then his •ucilue iose iatbe warts cf men.. As he dieu> the j&axo through the Tanks of cam. Or the dusty reaper that c^Tihe grain.. IDhen the uxarlcLhos IfeJrnecl yu&h. the dajjpl&gr That the power to serve is- Ihe^inetenofSort Then the golden age of our dreams wdlctenixi. And a. truer fi^edom mSI 'bleag^e',^ 41 - ,-Whw-it .Mme t)m*fn^ ttelawyer,Km «hib3edthi \Hahl\ 8a^ ; ttb % oflanau£jto5si a quart, of >grovy^!afc-^a<giic!!t;y®B ._ n twraty 'il»rjis ^r9n5^^ t t4^^^ do you. know iSvhat'vtWs/^eaV/:costs |.i !Si .you, with all' this ;'c^rh\ca'd^d.u'•p^^fe , keep,.and'air the.gpbd;UcraprJ^«r.w COStS vnn twnt \rw »nft -'ttbii3ftn'd.'^iM >v -'rtW when you get ready, to go':yo\n';feyij -A :3i/ a thouswith the. bfttf er..:Qgj^gaJ!|- : & take it \but to^de? \TeIl\n |B $6W to get a divorce. n 'OM .rny^s^e^jjndj %\ yon owe ine- nothing.\ » .^fenf$Xf»V; So the- lawyeE'i 'Btaite, .braattngj^ the.dishos^'an'd.he 'Baya. ^H.eye^lotf'/y ntefat'Jie-telep^oner^IWgohig^to'.ft;^ haVe y6tt-pincned'f6r-selling : 'bg , 'oie.Tir? ! wit&ont -a. Ucewer^A^d^ttejmteri*^? state, commerce;' 1 ccTOmia\rion$?(i11^|.^ get you 4 $otMSyTOffiB &^#$raH»5 •thattbootlejpafaff^^^^^ i-dc^nkelatelyi^gTgtt start- W^*kf^Wm$^!}0. TO IT W&BW&l&^&tfgMl 4 -rye Utficffi^Ytf^lt<?&fyf* l THE END Our Classified Ads Bring Good Results-^ Try Them Once and Be Convinced BLASPHEMY The Lord Chamberlain of England, who has the final-say as to whether any play may be shown in English theaters, has banned \The Green' Pasture,\ the play which, received the Pulitzer Prize when it was produced in-New York, wbere it is (till run ning. The ground of ue objection is that in the play one character represents God, and that is forbidden on the English stage. True, the character is merely an ignorant Negro's concep tion of God as \somebody that looks like the Revc I Mr. Dubois,\ and the whole play reflects the simple, literal interpretation of the Bible story in terms of thdr own race and exper ience^ by the primitive-Negrots of the lower Mississippi Valley. But that makes no difference in England\; 'The Green Pastures\ can't be-shown there. The reasoning bade'of that seems as Wrong-headed as most of the reason ing, or lack of it, back of some efforts in America to keep religion from be ing taken lightly. Any religion which can't stand up under caricature or parody must be pretty'weak staff. WAR ' The movie magnates are failing over Uirnitfl7es -to^rodttce<-fikns-«howjnfc: war srenes. That Is quite all right—J. Jfom two cents war ?« imnlrinrt'« gmi*^ TdrfntnTi) ~ —always has been and always will be- But when they talk, as some of them do, about inch films as \All Quiet on the Western Front\ and \Hell'* Angels\ as being calculated to turn ihe m nds of youth away from war and toward peace\ they are, speaking in (lie vernacular, all wet. Youth doesn't mind dirt and blood ami danger and horrors, if''there is the thrill of action attached to them. Youth cannot visualize the social and economic losses caused by war—if it could, it wouldn't be youth/ As--well try to talk*girls out' of loving as to talk boys out' ot fighting; And the more war pictures are shown on the screen, the more eager will the genera tion which was too young to fight in the last war be for a new war in which they, too, can share in the excitement if battle. AUSTRALIA Australia has made one more step, and a long one, toward complete In dependence of the British Empire. The King of England hat appointed a na tive Australian,' Sir Isaac Alfred Isaacs, as Governor General of the Commonwealth. The theory of the British, govern ment of its colonies in the past has been that -while the people^ might elect thefr own legislative bodies' the head >f the Government must be somebody ient out from \home.\ No Canadian is ever been the Governor-Gerieral of Canada, no Indian Governor-Gen eral of India. Great Britain is having plenty of trouble_keeping what it has, and rather than risk a revolt which would set up 'Australia'as a completely independent nation all precedents have been broken. POSTAGE T.t. [ - , The Postmaster General -want« fr> Pqsta -mcrease the-rate-of-portage'on-k-tters\ I 1 > \ VI Probably nobody-would mind'k very much. Nobody made a great fas* what we went to three-cent po *tige ,d _ the war. The main difficulty wo«kd;b* in making change. - y ' Th« Post Office coK the taxpayers of the United States'nearly ooe hno- dred million dollars Tast'year: That It what we paid over and above pottage stamp payments. More than half of the loss-comes from carrying frail mail matter for memberi/of Congress and Government departments. The cost of postal service ought to be paid by the people who use it. The business house that bat a stamp till of thousands of dallart a week is get ting something for* nothing from th» taxpayer who, writes only one letter a month. Moreover, the business hoot* is using themaU for purposes-of busi ness—that is, to make money. AGE There hat been a great deal of talk spilled loosdy about the fncapadty of men over 40 to do their share of the day's work. At the New York State Industrial Safety Congress the other day one of the industrial leaders said: \It is\ the old, trained employee who makes--us our money. They are the ones it is hard to replace. The. time when a man^be- gins to be. worth .something is zrotmd 45.\ / : Anybody who Vill think jie matter over will realize that .this is true. II business consisted in playing tennis or golf, or prize-^ghung, ho- doubt yo'uhg men would' walsy crowd out'the old 'ones. But the \leg-work\-' whieKl'most i Jobs require is no strain upon'tbe heart •'and musclifs of men.of.iixty.'-'wnile'the ^intelligence- arid-fiddity which^jfe ac^' ^quirei only ,'hrough experience ; both .on the; job and,in the art.of'getting'. alpr^n-lhe^worM, ate uualtt ^yputh^sddom, poises set. ; ^'
