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The Exeter Times-Advocate, 1942-03-12, Page 6
Thursday, March l&th, 1H2 TOK EXETER TIMES-ADVOCATE hi « A Woman's Workshop NEW WORDS FOR OLD A living language is never stationary, since from year to year it is always taking on new forms of expression. In times of greatly accelerated activity, this process is speeded up to the point where it becomes percep tible. The last war gave us many new words, and already we can see them beginning to emerge from present conditions. Thus the air force has given us “flack”,, “paratroops”; the radio uses “plug” and “blurb” in regard to advertising. Other words have been extended to convey new meanings—so we hear “ceiling” used to mean price-fixing and low cloud formations. Such proper names as “Quisling” are now used to designate a class rather than an individual.Something else is happening to our speech, though let us hope it may not be permanent. As a result of radio advertising, where the aim is to create a strong impression in a short time, and perhaps too as a result of the Hollywood influence, we have come to demand more exaggerated forms of expression. Hence the frequent use of such words as radiant, glamorous, adorable, tantalizing, velvety (all terms which appeal to the physical senses). These were formerly used only to express the super lative, and actually mean no more today than did the more temperate ex pressions of yesterday. It should be interesting to watch our English grow. -The Missus HIGH FLIGHT THE SOONG FAMILY Many People Still Sleep In Shelters In London’s Underground Stations This is the twelfth in the series of articles written exclusively for the weekly newspapers of Canada by Hugh Templin of th© Fergus News-Record. He flew to Great Britain as a guest of the British Council and was given an oppor tunity to se© what is being done in Britain, Ireland and Tortuga! in wartime. Oc- bus- with tiny each little fireplaces and against the sky a row of. about 2o chimneys stood silhouetted against the midnight blue. In the next block, it was stores that had suffered. Sometimes the window was just a 'great, gaping hole and the inside of the store was not there. Qn either side, the win* dows had been boarded up, but the stores were evidently carrying on, though I couldn’t read what was on i, the little signs nailed to the hoards, No lights of any kind were to bo seen except the traffic lights at the ; main corners and the single, shaded headlamps of approaching ears. The traffic lights were tiny red and green crosses in sheets of metal that had been fitted over the lenses. The red and green looked rather decora tive, but when the yellow came on, it looked unlawfully bright for the five seconds it remained. The car lights made only dim moving circles on the pavement as they passed. I found myself, bye and bye, in Piccadilly Circus. Loyal Londoners claim that this had the busiest traf fic of any place on earth in normal times. casional taxis es with their some opaque holes scraped window pane can look out with a single eye. statue of Eros is no longer seen in the centre of the Circus. It is cov ered with a cone-shaped protection against the bombs and th© boards on the outside are plastered with sign advising the onlooker to buy bonds. (I saw them in the day light several .times). I had missed a tour of the air raid shelters a few nights before, but I recall that the most famous of them all was in the Underground station below .Piccadilly Circus, down the stairs and into lights of the station. My travelling before had been above ground, my first visit to the Underground. The streets may have seemed deser ted but there were lights and action and ' ’ ’ ' " • • . long dow past ways seemed to go down into the bowels of the earth in every direc tion. Evidently this was just the vestibule. - ■< Sleeping Under the Ground I ■ appealed to another constable I explained who I was, where I had come from and what I wanted to see. He called to another man in blue uniform: “Here mate will you ‘watch things for me for a few min utes,” and then herded me past a ticket turnstile and down an escala tor. It was 75 feet long or more, but that was just the beginning. We walked down some stone steps and took another escalator for another 80 feet or so, past rows of theatre posters and other advertisments-. I really wasn’t prepared for what I saw. London hadn’t been bombed in months, yet there are several hundred people sleeping beside the subway tracks. The trains came racing out of the darkness, like great caterpillars, stopping a mom ent, and went again. The platforms were none too wide, but all along the walls, were men and women sleeping on the tiled floors, with blankets over and under them. In some parts of the “tubes,” there were rows of double-deck cots along the walls .The cots bore numbers and the same people oc cupied them night after night. Some of them had been fixed up a bit' with blankets hanging down in front, like the curtains of a berth on a train. But most of them, open to the gaze of hundreds passed by. There were more women men and they were in various stag es of undress. Some never took off their clothes at all; other women were coming out o/ lavatories with pyjamas or nightgowns showing be low their dressing gowns. I saw no children Over a year old, but there were three babies, one of them very ,tiny. An old couple well dressed, sat on the stone floor, taking their things out of an exp,ensive-looking suitcase. A stone stairway ran up 20 steps or So. Lying on it were six or seven men. They weren’t crossways, on the steps, because they would have impeded traffic, but they were lying up the stairs. The Sharp, metal bound edges dug into their sides in thtee or four places, but they slept on, while hundreds walked past them and the trains thundered by 20 feet away, I would not have be lieved it if I had not seen it, My guide took me down to a low- level, There were more bunks. At the end of the row was a temporaty aid post with two nurses in uniform. At a counter nearby, three girls wore selling ‘'tea, coffee, cakes and sandwiches, v I was more moved by these things than I had been since I arrived in This series has stretched -out and this story will complete the twelve that I originally planned to write. It seems that there has been, so much to tell—much more than I thought when I arrived back in C aim da. For the twelfth story I am choos ing one of the simplest of them all, and yet one of the hardest to do. So many people want to know what London is really like in wartime with the blackout and the bombing, Sq many ask for a description, yet it is hard to describe London, as one really sees it particularly at night when the eye sees little. There have been so many descriptions and yet most of them fail to paint a true picture. Perhaps I should not try, when so many experts have failed. But it ought to be easy enough. I’ll take one evening walk and tell about it, as I wrote it down after reaching the light and warmth, of my room at the Savoy. It was the night of October 1st, and as it happened, the anniversary of my wedding—the first time I had been away on that date in twenty years of married life. It was my turn to broadcast a message to Can ada that night and I sent my wife a cable to be listening. I hoped she would hear my voice at least. The British Broadcasting House is in the West End of (London. Perhaps you have seen pictures of it in days of peace. It has been de signed with bombing in mind, for much of it is underground. .iWe de- L.L when the Hun knocks a top, the staff just moves' storey farther into the I cannot vouch for that. SunA sonnet of war, ranked by! Last week we spoke of Dr. _ authorities as fitting to stand be- J Yat Sen, the father of the Chinese side John McCrae’s “In Flanders’i Republic, and of the struggles, and Fields” has been published in the - difficulties New York Tribune. The author is | 1ifA th<. . . A sonnet of war, ranked I 5 that beset his early life in the U.S.A, Another ambi tious Chinese youth was Charlie Soong. He worked hard to edu cate himself so that he might go back, as a Christian missionary, to his own people. This man became the father of a family that is pro bably one of the ablest and most prominent in the world of our day. The eldest daughter became the wife of Dr. Sun Yat Sen himself, and as his ’close collaborator, had a profound influence in the shaping of the new China. Another daugh ter married Dr. Kung, who, with T. V. Soong, his wife’s brother, were the financial experts who put the young republic on a basis of economic security. Dr. Soong is at present .a visitor to our country. New York Tribune. I'he author is John Gillespie Magee, nineteen-! year-old American flier, killed last! December with the Royal Air Force. The 'parents of the young man have given permission for their son’s poem to be posted in all pilot train ing centres in the British Empire, j Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds* of earth, And danced the skies on laughter- silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds—and done a hundred things You’have not dreamed of—wheel ed and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring,_ _ _____________ __ __ „___. there I a third daughter became the wife of I’ve chased the shouting wind along,' Chinese generalissimo* Chiang 1 Kai-Shek. She is a woman of I great charm and in all respects a I fitting companion to the man who holds the security of present-day China in his keeping. Surely this is a remarkable family record, es pecially when we consider that it I is only in recent years that women have taken any place in the public : life of China.* * « To bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry nev- ! er: in a word, to let the spiritual unbidden and unconscious grow up j through the common—this is to be I my symphony. —William Henry Channing. * * * AN IDEA and flung eager craft through footless halls of air. up the long, delirious,-burning blue topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace, •Where never lark nor even eagle) flew; while, with silent lifting mind I’ve trod high untrespassed sanctity of space out my hand, and touched the face of God, * * * SOAP MAY BE SCARCE My Up, I’ve Anti The Put Restrictions in the' use of soap must be one of the most inconven ient of war impositions. A lo cal druggist tells me that we must" expect -a sharp deterioration in the quality of the brands we are ac customed to use. The oils are large ly imported for toilet soap and the sources of supply are now in enemy hands. Glycerine has been com mandeered by ’the government, shipping space is at a premium, allj circumstances that must have their effect on the soap industry. By the way, I have read that a soap.factory was discovered in the ruins of cient Pompeii, so it has been in for a long time.* * : BOSSY TAKES OVER an- use old- It certainly hasn’t now. slipped past, and windows covered ■substance with in the centre of So that a passenger The I went the bright If every one of Canada’s new army of wage-earners saves more, the country’s effort toward winning the war will be greatly helped. Every dollar you save means more labour and materials freed for making the war goods so urgently needed. These savings, lerit to the country in the purchase of War Savings Certificates or Victory Loan Bonds—lent to intensify Canada’s war effort—will bring victory— and peace—nearer. The Amelie F. Sims Chapter, I. O. D. E., meeting in Toronto, have asked that each member bring a book a month to send to the men in uniform. Maybe other organiza tions might care to copy this good example. # * KETTLE AND PAN Paging cipe for you were -Is this the re- which The process of replacing the er dress materials with newly-dis- coyered fabrics goes on apace.' For years back we have been wearing dresses of wood pulp (rayon) and silk-substituting cotton known as celanese; buttons and ornaments of Coal, air and water (plastic). But now we have added to the list a textile fibre made of casein found in cow’s milk. This, combined with wool, or rayon, bids fair to be in creasingly used id dress goods and felts as the older staple commodi ties are no longer available. Many of our larger creameries are now drying the skim milk which is pro cessed for the clothing industry J The fibre is made of casein, which' per cent of. Mrs. H.T.- crumb cake about inquiring? Crumb Cake Mix with the hands: iy2 cups flour 1 cup brown sugar % cup shortening Set aside % cup of To the remainder 1 unbeaten egg 1 teaspoon soda 1 cup raisins 1 cup sour or butter milk Spice if desired Spread the reserved crumbs over top of the second mixture and bake in a fairly hot oven about twenty t-o thirty minutes. Supper Menu Baked beans, brown bread, cab bage and carrot salad, orange slices with coconut, molasses cookies. Ex travagant in nutrients only. Here are two good meat dishes: (part butter) this mixture, add: constitutes about 3-----------, -----V U yw VWiiv . skimmed milk. After extraction it) is dried and ground, treated with’ chemicals and heated like consistency. to a honey- ■’ like consistency. Forced through! spinnerets, it emerges as thousands J of strands of fibres. Other treat ments make the filaments soft and luxurious. From 10 to 40 per cent] of these fibres are used with other . fibres in fabric weaves. i* * * j ( Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, ease after war, death after life, doth greatly please—Spensen Toad-in-the-Hole 1 pound round steak Batter: 2 eggs 1 cup floiur 1 teaspoon baking powder % teaspoon salt % cup milk Cut steak into six pieces; season lightly with pepper and salt and place on bottom of earthen baking dish. Beat eggs until light; gradu ally beat in flour, baking powder and salt which have been sifted to gether gether gether batter slow oven (275 degrees hours. Add ittilk Add milk for several over steak and beat all to- and beat all to- minutes. and Variation sausages sliced potatoes Pour- bake in a F,) for two 6 Or 8 1 cup Batter Place sausages on bottom of bak ing dish. Pare small oval potatoes and cut in slices about one-quarter of an inch thick; cover sausages with sliced potatoes. Pour in bat ter and bake In a slow oven for twp hours. (raw) cided that bit off the down one cellar, but It isn’t an easy building to enter, for it is guarded by both police and soldiers. One has to have a pass and a definite appointment to' get past the soldiers with fixed 'bayonet beside a portable bomlb shelter in the main hallway. It was 10.30 when I came out, showing another pass at the door before I could get out. I had done my broadcast from a basement room, two storeys, below the surface of the earth. It .hadn’t ’been an or deal, in spite of the sign that said that we would be warned if enemy bombers were directly overhead and would we please continue as long as possible after the first warning sounded. Thefe is much less for mality about the broadcasting in the B.B.C. of the home, about that I wife, ness. There was no taxi in sight as I came out into the blackout, 'but it was a moonlit night and I was used to the- blackness by this time, so I started off. It isn’t hard to find one’s way in London. The moon was in the south and the Thames lay in that direction. At a corner in Regent street, I stopped to check up with a police man. He was standing outside his little brick bomb-shelter. Every main corner has" one of them. They would not hold more than two or three persons, huddled close togeth er, but they do give protection from blasts and flying splinters. The constable seemed surprised when I asked if I was headed in the right direction for the Savoy. “Yes, sir,” he said. “You are— but it’s a long way, sir. You would n’t be thinking of walking that far!” I assured him I was and wonder ed if any constable in any other, large city in the world would have been so polite about it, I had niy little pocket torch—the kind we call “pen-lights” in Gan-J ada* Even that! Was too bright for the London blackout, unless cover ed with a layer of blue tissue paper. That night, I had no need of it. The moon gave light enough. The main street in the West End have suffered from the bombing, As I walked along, it seemed that the vacant spaces were at mote or less regular -distances. It seemed as though a German pilot might' have gone up one side of the street and down the other, letting his high ex plosives drop aS quickly as he could turn thA bomb lever, I was passing a block of stately apartment houses. Most of them appeared to be intact. Then there was a gap where several had been blown out into the street, The rub bish had been cleared away, but the moon shone- down on a blank white wall, studded here and there with than in studios on this side ocean. I soon felt quite at When the director learned the anniversary, he insisted add a personal message to my I appreciated his thoughtful- that time This was ■ ** crowds below the surface. A line moved slowly past a win- marked l%d and another. line the 2d wicket. Moving stair- were who than tai. ER ri, London, but to the constable it was an old story. He was scornful: “A lot of foreigners what hasn’t got any guts, sir, or lodging house folk; what won’t pay their rent. You can see for yourself, sir!” I could see—a strangely assorted folk.i- They looked different- to me than they did to him. He may have been right, but I thought I saw be hind it the homes that had been de stroyed and people with no place to go where they felt safe. Surely it took more than ordinary terror to make people live like that. may have been right. afterz all, it was five months since bombing of that part of As we went upstairs, found friend and guide about the Government in a way thaj. sounded thoroughly Canadian. The income tax was unfair, he said. Here he was, working for two days out of every week for the Govern ment. He had been retired on a pension as well. Yet he had a young friend on the coast—a publican, hy was—that didn’t have anything to do because his pub was in a prohibi ted area. He got a job as a carpen ter, though he had no training. Building defence works, he wa:t, and still at it, and he gets £8’ or £10 a week. He keeps changing from one job to another and nobody ever checks him up. and he never pays any taxes. They say Bevin favors the trade unions anyway. It sounded familiar.. I thought oi the carpenters at Camp Borden and a number of other complaints back home. The constable had other criti cisms to make while he had the ear of the Press. The Army should be helping the Russians. He had a son in the army for two years, just do ing nothing. Conscription wasn’t fairly enforced. Al lot of young fel lows get free, though they are call ing up men of 45 now. to two young chaps clothes (about the only so dressed in London), drunk and leaning on The constable said lie saw the Sama ones every day. “Why weren’t they in the Army? I didn't know, so I said good-bye and reached the upper air again. IWalking along Piccadilly, I pass ed several groups of loving couples. Some of them 'were singim had was I ing. to see that he was an officer of tne R.A.F. The ‘woman said; “Well I hope you are proud of yourself after that exhibition/” full of bitterness, might hit her, but doorway and were , At Leicester Square, I paused, tor l . Yet he jr. an, iC (he last London, my new- explained He pointed in evening Ones I saw They were each other. there are several streets. (You know the lines of the song, of course—“Good-bye, Piccadilly; fare well, Leicester Square.”) I stood at the street across the circle. A shortish lady came along and bump ed into me, There wasn’t any need: the sidewalk was wide and it wasn’t really dark. “Sorry, sir,” she said, so I asked her, which way to- the Strand. “Down that way,” she said, “But I am going this way. You coming this way?” "No thanks!” I -said and continu ed on my way south. Trafalgar Square was familiar to me, day or night I turned down past a bombed church and an ambulance passed me in the darkness with its bell clanging and stopped at the next corner. As I walked past, a lady on a stretcher was taklen in the little door. The last time. I had been past that corner, a friend j bad pointed to the same door. I “That’s where they took me the 1 night I smashed up my car in the big blitz,” he had said. That was the first time I had known he had been bombed. • I caught up to a very fat man at the next corner. He looked con genial. “Is this the Strand?” I asked. I knew it was, but that might be an opening. ■ “It is that,” he said, “though it’s not like it used to be in the old days when it was so full of traffic that! you couldn’t cross it anywhere here abouts,” He turned to me. “You’re an American and don’t remember it?” I explained I was a Canadian. “I knew it was one or the other,” he said, evidently thinking therw was no real difference. On a beautiful night was natural to turn to next. “Last year,” he said, Over every night, moon,” i by name it is Mie’ past eight, your watch SiXty-eight i Hall it was, London in a blitz than have to live anywhere else. No place like Lon don! And I’ll live here while they leave two houses Standing. But there’s the entrance to' your hotel across the street, sir.” We parted and I edged my wdj carefully across the Strand and pas sed through the revolving doors into the bright lights. i I ig. They their arms around the girls. It just dark enough for that., caught up to a pair not so lov- There was moonlight enough The Voice was I thought he they turned in a gone. like that, it the weather “they came moon or no (Hitler is never mentionea and the Germans seldom, or 'they* “About half- it was. You could set by it. One hundred and nights without a break. But I’d rather be in Lon- and held. BRINSLEY Congratulations, to Mrs. Margaret Gilbert, who celebrated her 78th birthday on March 3rd. A number of the neighbors at tended the funeral of the late Mr. John Robinson of West McGillivray on Saturday. Mr. and Mrs. Linwood Craven at tended the wedding of their son, Sgt. Harvey Craven, R.C.A.F., to Miss Muriel Black, at Alvinston, on Wednesday last. Mrs. Martin Watson and Doug las, of London, spent the week-end with friends. Lieut. Martin Watson expects’ to be transferred from don to Brookville this week. ' The Women’s Association W.M.S. of the United church their March meeting at the home of Mrs. William McGuire on Wednes day afternoon. After the business lunch was served and a social half- hour ‘was spent. Craven—'Black A quiet wedding was solemnized by Rev. Donald Stewart at the home of the .bride’s parents, when Mur iel Louise, younger daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Black, of Alvinston, became the bride of Sgt. Harvey John Craven, R.C.A.F,, North Bat tleford, Sask., son of Mr. Linwood Craven and the late Mrs. Craven, of Ailsa Craig. The bride, given in marriage by her father, wore a turquoise blue crepe dress with tur ban to match and black accessor ies and a corsage get-me-nots. The ed by her sister, lis, of Alvinston, crepe dress and with shoulder bouquet of carna tions, Alden Craven, of Ails'a Craig, brother of the groom, was best man. Miss Beth Lovell, cousin of the bride, played . the wedding music. Following the Ceremony five cousins served at a supper for the immedi ate relatives. Of roses and for bride was attend- , Mrs. George Mel- who wore a gold' black accessories Backache-Kidneys Driving License Examiner—-What is a one-way street? (the appHcant)-—lts which a motorist is the rear only, ..Mrs, Riggs a street on bumped from Most people fail to recognize the seriousness of a bad back. The stitches, twitches, add twinges are bad enough and Cause great suf fering# but back of the backache and the cause of it all is the dis ordered. kidneys crying out a warn ing through the back. A pain in the back is the kidneysf cry for help, Go to their assistance, Get a box of Doan'S Kidney Fills. A remedy for backache and sick kidneys. "Doan's" are' put up in. an oblong grey box with our trade mark a "Maple Leaf" on the wrapper. Refuse substitutes. Get*'Doan’S.’ ’ Tlie T. Milburn Co., Ltd., Toronto, Ont.