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THE
YELLOW
BRIAR

A Story of the Irish on the
Countryside

By PATRICK SLATER

By arrangement with Thomas
Allen, Publisher, Toronto,

t
CHAPTER X.

Betty Marshall had quit the Mono
school for keeps. So, at the age of
thirteen, the pale, bony, young slip
of a thing felt that she must now
Indeed be a grown-up miss. In fact,
she made some motions of doing up
her hair; and from her stirrings
about one would fancy at times the
weighty care of the entire household
rested upon her slim, young shoul-
ders. One of her special concerns
was the Lion cooking stove the kit-
chen now boasted—a black, mon-
strous creature with thing-u-majigs
scalloped on its body. The ravenous
maw of the beast seemed always
crying out for finely-split, sound
body-wood, which its tongues of
flame licked up without ceasing; but
@ grand cooker it was with a handy
tank in its posterior for heating
water. And the Lion was actually
built for warming a room and not,
like the old fireplace, for heating a
flue. Betty domeleaded the crea-
ture’s back till it shone like the hide
of a Guinea nigger. And the girl
Was a rare succesful hand, too, at
growing fuchsias from slips in old
tin cans. But that first winter at
home her special ambition lay in
getting together the makings for a
rag carpet to cover part of the yel-
low kitchen floor. Betty kept crying
out for rags and more rags, and,
like the horseleech’s daughter, she
was never satisfied. Bundles of old
clothes came up from the relatives
in Toronto. - First the garments were
taken to pieces and washed; then the
lighter colored material went into the
dye pot. Finally a sleigh load of
rag balls went to be woven at the
handloom in the village. We ad-
mired the strips of carpet loudly,
and, believe me, we treated them
with great respect.

There was something of John
Trueman’s grim wilfulness in the
temper of his granddaughter. Two
years back the Croziers had planted
@ row of young maple trees down
their lane, and Betty was dead set
in the opinion that the Marshall lane
stood in need of a like treatment.
She harped on the subject from Eas-
ter on, but, in the throng of spring
work, no one lent her a listening ear.
Late one afternoon I spied the young
miss dragging a couple of stout sap-
lings home from the bush. Her eyes
had been bigger than her shoulders.
Heavy storm clouds burst on her
with the weight of the rain in them,
but despite the downpour, the de-
termined young creature dragged her
loot to the lane gate. Forked light-
ning struck down sharp enough to
kill a pig, but the girl planted her
*trees in a futile sort of way, and
then darted into the house, haughty
and disdainful as a blast of wind.

“The old sow will root your treas-
ures out on you,” said I to her.
“Your trees should be planted on the
field side of the lane fence.”

I got no thanks for my free ad-
vice.

“T'll tell you what I'll do for you,
Elizabeth,” I went on. “Come now!
Tll make a bargain with you. If
you'll get the roots from Mrs. Mc-
Kim and make a bed of hollyhocks by
the gate coming in from the barn, I'll
take the team back to the bush next
week and get enough trees for both
sides of your lane. But mind now,
I want cream hollyhocks!” I warned
her.

The young maple trees I planted
@ few days afterward still stand;
and the girth of the least of them at
the butt is more than my arms can
circle. And as sure as God made
little apples, the girl's hollyhocks
Were. nodding and winking over thse
fence at me by the twelfth of July
of glorious memory.

grand-aunt Letitia arrived with her
trunk and two hat boxes to make the
farm the annual visit that disturbed
very much the quiet serenity of its
household. She came in on William's
side of the family, You get that!
The prim old maid was a regular go-
getter, with time souring on her
hands; and she was an opinionated
female of the type that busy them-
selves nowadays campaigning for
birth control or something. Of
course, it had been Letitia’s own fault
she never married. Any passable
young woman secures a husband if
she watches her step and is not too
particular as to quality. The grand-
aunt had done so much shopping
about, I fancy, that she found her-
self crossing the street when the
shops all closed on her, and called
it a day.

Letitia lacked the repose of soul
that makes a woman a good visitor
in the countryside. She was on her
feet from morning to night, busy rec-
tifying matters, and cheerfully insist-
ing that everything be done her way.
She was a capable woman, no doubt;
but to tell the truth, I did not like
her cooking. Her pies were of the
affectionate kind that stick on the
pan. Letitia was a bossy old wo-
man, who stuck her nose into every-
thing. And that, as you'll agree, is a
little trying on the patience of a
busy, middle-aged farm wife in the
throng of the mid-summer work. Not,
of course, that Mrs. Marshall showed
it outwardly in word or deed—but
the strain took it out of her spirit.
July is a mean season, anyway, for
visiting on-an Ontario farm. The
intense, enervating heat of midsum-
mer wilts the pasture lands and dries
up the wells in the thirsty ground
and the fountains of kindliness in the
heart. The sun swings low on its
blistering journey across hot cloud-
less skies, and sinks in a sullen still-
ness that breathes an angry threat
for the morrow. The temperature it-
self may not be as high as in more
southerly climes, but there is a wilt-
ffig quality to this inland summer
heat. Settlers take a long time to
adapt their clothing and diet to cli-
matic conditions in a new northern
land. Because the winters in Can-
ada are cold, men for a century have
been wearing heavy clothing in its
hot harvest season, and, all year
round, they stoke the fires in their
bodies with fatty foods. Some day
Canadians will drift away from the
clumsy, stupid, Irish notion that
clothing keeps the heat out. Nothing
delights my old eyes more than the
sight of the bare, brown, sinewy back
of a young fellow, up aloft in a field,
building a load of hay. Here at long
last is something indigenous to the
soil! The sun gives his hide the
bronze of an Indian warrior and the
gloss of a ripening chokecherry. ‘In
my young days, both men and wo-
men. in rural Ontario were distress-
ingly over-clothed in the summer sea-
son. ;

July of 1857 was a scorcher in
Mono. It was hot enough to crack
stones, and stray clouds merely
threatened rain as they drifted off to
the west, leaving a close, humid
swelter in their wake. It was a bad
season for Nancy Marshall's poultry.
The chick of the bronze turkey is the
smartest, snappiest, sweetest little
bird that ever rolled out of a shell
to chase bugs on sturdy legs, but no
feathered thing ever had a more wit-
less mother. During the rainy spring
season, Nancy trailed daily through
the wet grass after her turkey hens
to reason with them and to feed the
young poults on clabbered milk and
nettles. - Even at that, the survivors
promised pride and profit until the
hot spell smote them. At break of
day, the crazy hens, with their
“click! click!” would lead the tender
creatures off to chase cracker hop-
pers over the blistering hillsides, and
sharp at three o'clock in the after-
noon, the straggling flock would re-
port back at the kitchen door to tell
Nancy their tale of woe. Every day,
it seemed, weak young birds would
drag themselves back to say “peep!
peep!” and then lie down listlessly
to die before her eyes—without even
a kick. It was heart-scalding! What
with the heat, and the throng of
harvest work, and Aunt Letitia, and
the turkeys, the light of gladness
seemed to go out of Nancy’s eyes for
& while.

Betty's future was the grand-
aunt’s special care that summer. The
fashions of Mono impressed the lady
as somewhat rustic; and she strongly
urged that, for a proper finishing, the
young girl be sent to a ladies’ school
in Toronto and got ready to make a
good match. It was The Toronto
Ladies’ School on York Street, of
which Mrs. Poeller was lady princl-
pal, that Miss Letitia favored. Mr.
and Mrs. Marshall had seriously dis-
cussed Betty's future before Miss
Letitia’s arrival, but they-had quietly
laid the matter aside for family dis-
cussion at a more convenient season.

“Indeed, Willie!” the visitor de-
clared, “you can well afford it, and
the child’s future is to be con-
sidered.”

That was the time of the year that

Mrs. Marshall's mind now hung
back from agreeing with a sugges-

tion touching her daughter's future,
coming as it did from the other side
of the family,

“Indeed,” said she, “I don’t require
to send my daughter to a ladies’
school to be taught table manners.”

At Mrs. Poeller’s school, young
ladies were given “a thorough Eng-
lish education, also French, music,
dancing, singing, drawing, wax flow-
ers, embroidery, and all kinds of
plain and ornamental needlework.”
Mr. Marshall was favorably impress-
ed with the school because of its
regular advertisement in The Globe
newspaper.

At the height of one of the discus-
sions at the dinner table, Mrs, Mar-
shall raised doubts as to the danc-
ing, and referred to the discipline of
the Methodist Connexion.

“You better speak to the minister
about it, William,” she suggested.
“The last time he made us a pastoral
call, the man was sighing with
thoughts of hell fire because our
ladies were washing their faces in
tansy and buttermilk,” é

That, of course, was a sly dig at
Aunt Letitia, who flushed up and
promptly collapsed into one of her
spasms. Nowadays we would de-
scribe such a flaccid weak spell as
gas on the stomach. The woman was
laced up so tightly, to affect a slim
waistline, that useful organs were
pushed out of place. A pinch of
baking soda might have relieved her.
She wilted and collapsed.

“Me heart . . . me heart, Willie,”
she gasped feebly, “the salts...
Willie . . . me bottle!”

We all thought she was going out;
but a whiff or two revived her.

That fainting spell settled, of
course, the matter of young Betty
going to Mrs. Poeller’s school for
young ladies, and not 4 moment too
soon as events proved. With a dress-
maker in the house, and Aunt Letitia
assisting, it required six weeks’
steady work, between sewings and
fittings, to get the girl’s wardrobe
ready by the fall opening of the
academy. Believe me, those were
days of fine stitches and art needle
work!

(To Be Continued)

Pitfalls For Writers

Until Article Is Printed

All writers for the press know
what pits they are liable to fall into
any day. Why does a mistake that
glares and gibbers at you in print hide
itself so successfully in the copy or
the proof? How do you come to set
down “eighteenth” century when you
mean “nineteenth”? How does
Richard Grant White’s “heteronymy”
so persecute you that you are cap-
able of attributing ‘Paradise Lost”
to John Mitton, the crazy sporting
squire?

Some students of demonolopy be-
lieve firmly in the constant presence
and maleficence of the writer’s devil.
He puts temporary kinks in your in-
tellectuals, mixes up figures and
dates, plays all sorts of pranks with
you and can be heard chuckling the
next morning when horror and re-
morse are eating you—New York
Times.

Members of a jazz band that per-
formed at a fruit show were given
samples of the exhibits afterwards.
The crooner was rather annoyed, we
understand, when he was presented
with a giant raspberry.

Be that as it may, there are only
two periods in a woman’s life when
she can’t be understood by man, and
those are before and after marriage.

Mistakes Always Hide Themselves|

How Land Is Divided

Lines Of Longitude Separate Each
Country’s Possessions In Arctic
The flights of Soviet airmen in the
Arctic regions have raised in the
minds of not a few the question,
“Who owns the North Pole?” If
there is any land there at all, it has
been asked, is it Canada’s by reason
of the Dominion’s claim, made sev-
eral years ago, to sovereignty over
all lands between its Arctic main-
land border and the top of the world?
Or does it belong to the United
States because of Peary’s discovery
of the spot just over 30 years ago?
Or does it now belong to the U.S.S.R.,
by right of possession and settle-
ment? Boundaries laid down for the
international partition of the Arctic,
it is said, are as invisible as is the
Boundary between Canada and the
United States, but they are equally
capable of exact delimitation. All
that portion of the Arctic region
coming within the projections of the
lines of longitude of each country
belongs to that country. Soviet Rus-
sia claims everything in the segment
between Murmansk and Bering Sea
and the North Pole; the United
States has sovereign control extend-
ed from the mainland of Alaska be-
tween Bering Sea and the eastern
boundary of Alaska; and Canada has
similar sovereign control of all that
region, second in vastness only to
that held by Soviet Russia, lying be-
tween Canada’s mainland, stretching
from the eastern boundary of Alaska
to Baffin Sea and Davis Strait, and
reaching to the North Pole, In point
of fact, it may be added, the Soviet
flights have been carried out with
the consent and by arrangement
with the countries over whose
spheres they had to fly or on which
they might have to land. It is two
years since the U.S.S.R. first asked
permission for its avaitors to fly over
Canadian territory. Not only was
this readily given, but during their
recent flights they have been sup-
plied with weather reports from Can-
ada.—Chicago Daily News.

Radio Lessons For Schools

Will Be Provided By C.B.C. States
General Manager

Radio broadcasts for the schools
will be provided by the Canadian
Broadcasting Corporation as soon as
facilities are available and co-opera-
tion of the provinces has been ob-
tained, it was announced by Glad-
stone Murray, general manager of
the C.B.C.

(A resolution requesting radio
broadcasts similar to programs pre-
sented by the British Broadcasting
Corporation was passed by the Cana-
dian Teachers’ Federation at its
Toronto convention.)

The C.B.C., Mr. Murray said, has
been planning to establish education-
al broadcasts, “and we have already
been in touch with educational
authorities and the provinces.” The
corporation did not have facilities
for afternoon broadcasts in some
parts of the country but he hoped
they would be available at the end
of the year.

Queen Mary was not in the royal
party at Ascot this year, and it is
said that she declined the invitation
because she thinks Ascot is the King
and Queen’s biggest social event of
the year, and she prefers to remain
in the background.

In Greater London alone, nearly
100,000 boys and girls become ayvail-
able for work every year.

ITALY HAS SPECIAL COLONIES FOR CHILDREN

New infants’ welfare centres have been instituted in various parts of
Italy for the health benefit of little children, and above we see King Em-|
manuel visiting one of the colonies in Rome,

The little tots are not at all

embarrassed by such an important visitor and continue plavine on the sands.

Presto-Pack is a new and
revolutionary way, of
handling Household
Waxed Tissue, 45 sheets
packed in an envelope
which you hang on the
wall. Then as you require
it, just draw out @ sheet
at a time. You can’t draw
more. That's the beauty
of it.

Try Presto-Pack today,
You'll find it the handi-
est thing in the kitchen,

HAMILTON’

At grocers, druggists, stationers and departmental stores

PRESTO Pack

APPLEFORD PAPER PRODUCTS LE

“SOALY ONE SHEET ATA
TIME CAN CE DFAWN

MITED
ONTARIO

Warehouses at Calgary, Regina and Winnipeg

Highway Racketeers

Large Number Of Hitch-Hikers Able
To Pay Their Way

If all the young, well-dressed, able-
bodied men who solicit rides along
the highway were really penniless
and unable to furnish themselves
with recognized transportation, there
might be some reason for allowing
them to pester passing traffic and for
meeting their wishes, although it is
often a decidedly risky business to
take strangers into a car and many
@ man has found himself slugged and
robbed as reward for his kindness.

But in all too many cases, these
people who prey upon motorists are
not only neat and well-dressed,
carrying their belongings with them
in grips or suit-cases, but have am-
ple funds in their pockets to pay for
transportation by means of train or
motor coach.

The average young hitch-hiker is
simply a petty racketeer who moves
from place to place by his nerve and
at someone else’s expense and who
boasts of his free travel at the end
of his journey while he has plenty
of money to move without such as-
sistance—Brockville Recorder and
Times.

A Fortunate Province

Industrial Activity In Manitoba
Shows Progress This Year

Though the West as a whole is
hard hit by crop failures and other
difficulties this year, Manitoba is not.
Manitoba as a matter of fact is
recording steady progress this year
in all departments of industrial
activity. Without boasting, and cer
tainly with no thought of gloating
over neighboring provinces in the
West—whose misfortunes, indeed,
touch Winnipeg and Manitoba deep-
ly—these facts may be pointed out.

Manitoba has better than average
crops, and will receive for them bet-
ter than average prices.—Winnipeg
Tribune.

Famous Author Dead

Lieut.-Colonel McNeile Was Creator
Of “Bulldog Drummond”

“Sapper”, the creator of “Bulldog
Drummond” of detective fiction fame,
died recently at his home in Pulbo~
ough, Sussex, England.

The author, whose real name was
Lieut.-Colonel Cyril McNeile, late of
the Royal Engineers, was 49 years
old.

He began writing detective novels
after his retirement from the army
following the Great War, and his
“Buldog Drummond” series won him
a wide following.

Waiter Must Be Adaptable

The customer is always right: All
waiters in a leading U.S. hotel chain
are required to repeat the pronuncia-
tion of words just as the patron
says them. Thus if you order to-may-
toes, to-may-toes is what your waiter
calls ’em, But if the fellow at the
next table orders to-mah-toes, they're
to-mah-toes when the waiter renental
his order,

Overcrowding is said to be the
chief danger to the national health
in Scotland now.

Many a Soviet ship sailing on the

(eae Sea these days has a woman
for its captain. 2217

Little Helps For This Week

Lord, not my feet only, but also my
hands and my head. John 13:9.

Take my hands and let them

move
At the impulse of Thy love.
Take my feet and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee.

If a man is to God what his hand
is to a man, let him be content and
not seek further. Let him strive with
all his might to obey God and keep
His commandments at all times so
there is nothing that would in any
way oppose God. Let him keep his
soul and body ready and willing for
that to which God has created them,
As ready and willing as his hand is
to a man, which is so wholly in his
power he moves and turns it whither
he will. When the mind thinks noth-
ing, when the soul covets nothing
that is contrary to the will of God,
this is perfect sanctification.

Tribute To Weekly Papers

President Of University In Halifax
Stresses Their Power

Tribute to Canadian weekly news-
papers was paid by President A.
Stanley Walker, of King’s Univers-
ity, Halifax, in an address to the
Canadian Weekly Newspapers’ Asso-
ciation convention delegates.

The power of weekly newspapers
was stressed by the newly-appointed
president of Canada’s oldest English-
speaking university. He said he
wondered whether the French revolu-
tion could have attained the force it
did were it not for the weekly news-
papers of the time.

Presentation of a silver tray to
retiring President I, J. Bennett,
Carmen, Man, was a feature of the
dinner tendered delegates) The pres-
entation was made by immediate
past-President Charles Barber, of
Chilliwack, B.C.

Trophies for excellence in various
phases of newspaper work were pre-
sented. H. P. Davidson, of the Wolf-
ville, N.S. Acadian, received a gold
wrist watch offered for the best front

page.

Sounds Like Good Idea

B.B.O. Is Going To Hold A Confers
ence Of Grumblers

The British Broadcasting Corpora-
tion, long a target for a substantial
amount of public abuse, has hit upon
a plan t calm its tormentors.

It has called the world’s first
“grumbler’s conference” and has
selected 20 delegates from big piles
of mail which each day register
listener’s complaints. The “grum-
blers will meet an official of the
corporation's public relations depart-
ment who will attempt to collect in-
formation through which programs
can be improved.

Clothes have disrupted the glamor
of Bali, romantic island off the east
coast of Java, believes Baron Maxi-
millian Daum, Dutch nobleman, na-
tive of Batavia, Java.

All motion pictures exhibited in
Japan must pass the censorship of
the Japanese home office.

Don't fool yourself into mistaking
activity for efficiency. Most of the
time it isn’t