The Brussels Post, 1950-3-22, Page 7Meat
Loaf
By enchant Hitt windows
Sheriff Felix firendlinger was
just about to sit down to his sup-
per when the telephone rang, I -Ie
looked at the instrument ruefully.
Before him was a heaping plate of
meat loaf, fried potatoes and fresh
green peas.
Felix sighed, glanced across at
Elvira, then moved to the wall
phone. "Hello," he said.
"This is Chris Verne our at the
Rowland camp," came a low and
excited voice. "Someone's just
broken into the front room. I'm
hiding in the library, but I may
need help."
It was five miles to the Rowland
camp by way of the river road.
Felix made it in eight minutes,
despite the ancient vintage of his
rattley car. Chris Verne came
down the steps to meet him.
'Too late, Sheriff. He got away,
We had quite a tussle, but he
whacked me on the melon and I
was out like a light for three or
four minutes." The tali, rangy care- .
taker gingerly felt of a bump on
his head.
"Get away with anything?" Felix
asked.
"Don't know yet. I was looking
when you drove up. Come on in and
we'll see,"
The caretaker went directly to
the safe behind the fireplace.
"I-Ielll" he ejaculated. "Well, I
can kiss this job goodbye. Rowland
will never keep me on when he
finds out those bonds are gone."
"Bonds?"
"He was up here over the week-
end. He had a lot of negotiable
bonds and left them in the safe.
Figured this would be the last
place anyone would look, Well, he
figured wrong.
"Did you get a look at the thief?"
"Not much of one, It was dark.
I was in the kitchen getting myself
some supper, when I heard a noise
in front. I switched on the light
and listened, It sounded like some-
one was trying to pick the front
door lock. Thinking of the bonds,
I sneaked into the library. It was
inky dark. I hastily dialed you,
then went groping for the rifle
Chris shot a quick, sharp
look at the officer, but Felix
already had begun to brown*
around.
Rowland keeps behind the safe. It
was right then something hit me
on tate head.
"Humm," Felix stood in the
center of the floor and looked around
the room. The dial telephone was
'son the desk, with the receiver
dangling on its cord.
"Chris, mind cant' Elvira an'
telling her I'll be home shortly an°
to keep my supper hot? I left it in
a hurry. Meantime I'll take a look
around here,"
Chris shot a quick, 'sharp look at
the officer, but Felix had already
begun to browse around. So the
caretaker crossed to the desk,
picked up the receiver and began
to dial, He had whirled out two
numbers, when suddenly the lights
went out.
"Heyl" Chrins yelled, startled.
"Who did that?"
"Keep right on dialing, Chris,"
Felix said from the doorway, "Fuse
musta blown."
"Don't be dumb. I can't dial in
the dark;"
"Try it," Felix insisted,
"Are you crazy? I can't see a
thing."
"Goon!" said Felix. IIe snapped
on the lights; In his hand he held
the old tints long barrelled six-
shooter that had served him ;luring
his many years as law officer. "All
right Chris, nentmine dialing any
more,"
"Say what is this?" The care -
take replaced the receiver on its
hook slowly,
"We'll talk abort it later, Chis,
an' look around for the bonds. In
the meantime, you cone with me.
You can spend the night in the lock-
up an', by jinles, without no supper
too. That's what you git for makitr'
me let mine go cold."
Chris blinked, "What the devil
are you talking about?"
"Come, come, Chris. Play actin'
ain't gonna do you any good, I got
a hunch it was you stole theta
bonds, and busted the lock on the
front door, too. At any rate, you
didn't hastily dial my number in
the dark, like you said. You just
settled your own hash by provin'
it can't be done, An' speakin' of
hash, come along.
The City Of The
• a a Many Bells
",The Ringing Island," England
leas been called, because from Sax-
on days its people have loved good
bells and the sweet sound of them.
These bells have rung at the birth
and the passing of countless melt
and women, They have sounded the
tocsin of strife and more gladly
celebrated peace on many historic
occasions. So in joy and sorrow
the bells have acquired en almost
sacred character.
If England could be called the
ringing island, London assuredly
could be called the "city of bells,"
for every one of the hundred and
odd churches in the closely packed
"square mile" had its peal, which
not only called the people to praise
and prayer, but told them also
when their work for the day should
cease, writes Ernest If. Rano in
The Christian Science Monitor,
The "big bell of Bow," for in-
stance, sounded the hour when
work in the neighborhood should
begin and end, A mercer of the
name of Donne bequeathed two
tenements in Hosier Lane, nearby,
8o that the rents night pay for
the daily ringing of the tenor bell
as a signal for the workers It was
to be rung at six in the morning
and eight in the evening—a long
enough day, in all conscience—and
if the parish 'clerk who was re-
sponsible for the signal was late
in his rigning, he heard about it
from the angry apprentices, who
sung:
Clarke of the Bow Bell, with the
yellow locks
For tlty late ringing thy head shall
have knocics .. ,
He tried to placate them with
the couplet:
Children of Chepe, hold you all still,
You shall have the Bow Bell rung
at your will,
Low Bell came from the White
chapel Bell Foundry, the oldest in
the country, where church bells
have been made ever since the days
of Queen Elizabeth. It was founded
by Robertus Mot in 1570, six years
after the birth of Shakespeare, and
developed by Richard Phelps, who
took the present site in 1728, where
the Artichoke Inn once stood.
There the firm of of Mears and
Stainbank, as it is now known,
has carried on its good work to
this day.
* * *
One of the earliest of its castings
was the fifth bell at Westminster
Abbey, which has been in use since
the 16th century. The largest bell
made at the Whitechapel. foundry
is Big Ben, fatuous the world over,
with its weight of 1314 tons and
its hourly boom over London, The
great hour bell of St. Paul's weigh-
ing more than five tons, was cast
there, and also Great Peter of York,
twice that weight, and the bell of
Notre Dame Cathedral, Montreal,
which is the largest bell ever sent
out of England,
The bells of London were con-
demned to silence during the war,
lest they should give information
to the enemy. Many of the churches
in the city were then destroyed
by the blitz, and their bells brought
to earth. But London is now getting
rid of the scars of war; some of
the churches are being rebuilt—all
too slowly—and the bells which
have rung throughout the centur-
ies will be heard again.
Curiously enough it has not been
a church, but the Royal Exchange
which has led the way. Since the
time of its founder, Sir Thomas
Gresham, there has been a carillon
at the Royal Exchange. Twice the
Exchange has been burned down,
but each time that it has been
rebuilt a new carillon has been in-
stalled.
The carillon in use until recent
times was installed in 1895, and
played its tunas at 9 a.m„ noon,
3 pan., and 6 o'clock. It was stopped
on the outbreak of war. When after
the war it was proposed to start
the ringing again, the mechanism
was found to be worn beyond re-
pair, and a new machine, but us-
ing the old bells, was installed.
How many generations of Eng-
lish children have run the gantlet
at a merry Christmas party, to this
years -old chorus: '
Oranges and lemons,
Say the bells of St, Clenten's,
Lend me five farthings,
Say the bells of St. Martin's,
When will you pay toe?
Says the bells of Old Bailey,
'When I am rich,
Say the bells of Shoreditch.
When will that be?
Say the bells of Stepney.
I do not know.
Says the great bell of Bow.
Ilere comes a candle to light you
to hed,
And her cones a chopper to chop
off your head.
Like many another ancienet cus-
tom the origin of the rhyme is
"Ropt in mistry," but one sug-
gestion is that at Cletnent's Inn,
opposite the church, on New Year's
Day the servants used to make the
round of the lawyers' chambers and
present each tenant with an orange
and a lemon, while the bells of St,
Clement hailed the new year.
The old custom has been revived
in recent years, but the lawyers
no longer get the presents, for the
oranges - and•lenmons are given to
the children who attend a special
service there. Quite often the gift
has been the gift of the Danish
children living in London, a pleas-
ant reminder that the Church of
SI'. Clement Danes, to give it its
full title, is built on the site of
an ancient Danish colony in Lon-
don.
Alas! St. Clement's is little more
than a shell today. It has got ahead
of other London churches, though,
in one respect, for steel scaffolding
is crawling up its battered walls
After "Swim Throne". --Helen
Hagen, a model, has been chos-
en to represent New Jersey in
the national finals in Julie when
the "Swint for Health" Queen
will be chosen for 1950.
Nara Arnett
(-ammo CLOTHESPIN
RETRIEVER FOR
LOST ARTICLES
ARTICLES 1.051 UNDER
AERATING MAY BE
, RECOVERED WITH
CLOTNESPIN.RETRIEVER.
CUT JAWS OFF PIN
AND FASTEN IT To
STICK. PLACE WIRE
.
RING AROUND PINTO
HOLD JAWS OPEN AFTER
PIN IS TACKEDTO STICK.
USE STRING TO PULL 1NIRa:
RING AND RELEASE JAWS.
Gables At Home—Clark Gable and his recent bride, former
Lady Sylvia Stanley, are pictured for the first time at their
home following their wedding trip. They spent their vacation
in Hawaii.
and steeple, and the bells, which
were buried in sand during the war,
will be heard again, playing, among
other tunes, the old nursery
rhyme,
* * *
There are other bells to he heard
again soon. Bow Bells have a magic
of their own, with which London
is familiar, and they too will be
heard before many of us are much
older. The bells of Shoreditch have
not yet "grown rich," except in
tone and tradition, and 23,300
is now the price of restoring their
fortunes and enabling them to ring
again in the tower of St. Leonard's
parish church.
Hard by the Tower of London
is the ancient Church of All Hal-
lows, Barking,—or what retrains of
it -where William Penn, the foun-
der of Pennsylvania, and John
Quiucey Adams, sixth President
of the United States, were married.
When Queen Eliabeth went there
a little time ago to re-lay the foun-
dation stone of the now re -building
church, the bells were in position,
and rang out a merry peal, They
had been recast as a gift from
Mr. J. W. McConnell, President of
the Montreal Star."
So today All Hallows, Barkng,
by its hell forges another link of
love and friendship across the At-
lantic between the Engilsh-speaking
peoples.
PLATYPUS PALATE IS PLEASED
BY WORMS FROM ZOO'S FARM
Is your girl a finicky eater? Take
your troubles to the Bronx Zoo.
You'll get plenty of sympathy.
They have a girl—Penelope is her
name—who's so fussy about her
food that they've finally had to turn
the lion house at the zoo into the
biggest worm• breeding farm in the
world.
Penelope is a platypus, a small,
duck-billed animal from Australia
who insists on 14,000 worms a
month to stay alive and happy. And
not just any old worm, eitherl
Three years ago, when the zoo
got word that Penelope and two
relatives were on their way front
Australia, Christopher Coates was
assigned as curator in charge of the
platypuses.
* * *
"We started looks for worms, but
the earthworm farms couldn't sup-
ply enough to meet the needs of the
duckbills. Our initial order for
worms was 25,000. Months later,
we received 3,596," Coates says.
So Coates and Keeper Thomas
Callahan took up farming in the
dark basement of the lion house,
After several months of digging and
breeding, they figured they had a
pretty good supply of worms.
They did, if they wanted to go
fishing. But not if they expected
to satisfy Penelope and her two
companions, The crop from Coates'
farm was the common earthworm,
and Penelope wasn't having any.
While Penelope went on a hunger
strike, zoo workers went worm
hunting all over Bronx Park and
Give To The Red Cross -w
neighboring parks. They dangled
thin worms, fat worms, short
worms and long worms under Pene-
lope's nose, and she reacted like a
child sniffing spinach. Finally they
turned up a nice fat specimen in a
pile of decayed leaves.
Penelope fairly snapped at it.
Coates promptly tagged it the
leafworm and filled his farm with
leafworm eggs. Today they're being
cultivated like prize dahlias. Calla-
han harvests two pounds a day,
which is anywhere from 250 to 2,000
worms, depending on size and
weight.
In his spare time he also dishes
up egg custard, crayfish and frogs
for Penelope and friends. But he
doesn't use Penelope's dinner to go
fishing.
Highest Village
In All Europe
Chamois, as we all know, is the
name of a nimble, long -horned
mountain goat, and k is the name
of the soft leather duster with which
we wash down our cars, Chamois
is, also, the name of the little 'valley
and its community, to which I re-
cently paid a very interesting visit.
There were two disappointments
in store for me: There are no more
mountain goats left at Chamois, and
the people of Chamois have never
heard of a "shammy' leather, be-
cause such leather happens to have
nothing whatever to do with the
Chamois goat.
The people of Chamois make only
one claim to fame; they say they
live higher up in the clouds than
any other people in Europe. They
may be right and they may be
wrong, but I can tell you this, they
grow edelweiss in the front gar-
dens, said Ivor Benson in a recent
international broadcast.
There are only two possible
v:°ays of reaching Chamois—by the
winding, atony footpath from the
bottom of the Valtounnanche, or by
helicopter. As there are no heli-
copters to be had in the Aosta Val-
ley, I had to walk, carrying on my
back enough bread rolls and
smoked sausage to last a week. For
there is no shop at Chamois, and
nothing to buy except milk and
butter.
And for a week, I lived in the
priest's house at Chamois, studying
the life of one of the most inter-
esting communities in the world.
The twentieth century, with all its
bustle and its inventions, is sweep-
ing us along with it; but here is
a cluster of 150 people who have
been by-passed and left behind; to
go on living exactly as their fore-
fathers lived for many centuries.
First of all, a short word picture
of the place: The air is clear and
crisp; the clouds are whiter, and
the sky beyond is bluer than any-
where else in Italy. Far away to
the south are the snow -streaked
mountains of Gran Paradise. Here,
on the sloping fields in front of the
white -washed church, the women
are working. They wear long cot-
ton frocks with aprons. On their
heads they wear kerchiefs, and on
their feet big, wooden clogs. With
rasping sounds from their sharp
scythes, they cut the rich grass,
and with it the white and yellow
daisies and wild violets. In another
field, the grass cut yesterday is now
dry and pale, and is being gathered
into great bundles and carried into
the storage bins situated above the
cowsheds.
Higher up the mountain slopes,
the small red and white cattle are
grazing contentedly, the bells
about their necks making a per-
petual din that can be heard a mile
away. The men sit and watch, now
and again, sending their dogs bit
round up one or two beasts that
are straying too far from the herd.
Most of the milk front these
horde is made into a sweet, soft
cheese called Pontine, for which
Aosta is famous. The money they
get for it the peasants spend on
matches, salt, and the few other
things they must buy,
Here, life le simple. The daily
menu is maize, porridge, which they
call polleenta, potatoes, and always
some milk. Sometimes they have
an egg, meat only in November,
when a few pigs are slaughtered.
When the sun goes down, it is
bedtime. And long before dawn,
they ane up again and working,
Life is hard. The people are el!
lean and tough; the women have
deeply lined faces, for they gener-
ally do the heaviest work. With
long, horn -shaped baskets strapped
to their backs, they carry 75 -pound
loads of cheese and butter to the
bottom of the valley, and, most
times, they have to carry similar
loads of provisions back to their
homes.
In autumn, they carry larch logs
from the mountain sides, and in the
winter, when the snow is a metre
and a half deep outside, the men and
women cut this timber into lathe
and weave baskets for the markets
lower down the main valley. Every
moment of the day they must work
if they are to keep themselves alive
on this narrow shelf in the moun-
tains.
But life is real. They may be
the hardest -worked people in all
Europe, but they seem to be happy
and content, and they get along
very well without many of the
things so necessary outside theirs
valley—things like police station*,
jails, hospitals.
The day. I left Chamois, some•
thing happened that may bring
many changes. One of the peas-
ants who had been working in
Turin returned.,with a wireless set.
It was installed in his bedroom, and
the villagers crowded in to hear it.
And so, at last, the loud voice of
the modern world has come to
Chamois. The old people shook
their heads; they could snake noth-
ing of it. But I noticed that the
young people listened with shining
eyes.
Good Reason
Bride: "I think we should open
a new bank account."
Hubby; "Why?"
Bride: "Our old one doesn't have
any more money in it."
Deepest lake is Seotland'e Loch
Morar, 1,017 feet.
How The "Breakaway" Cockpit Works --These sketches show the working of a new "break.
away" cockpit unit, designed to allow pilots of high-altitude super-soniclanes to escape lar
emergencies by means of a parachute -borne "pod." The pressurized pod (1)Pis ejected from
the plane's main body; a small, "drogue" parachute is released (2), the drogue chute operates
mechanism which releases the main chute (3), which then billows out (4) to drop the pod
gently to earth or water (S). Tet water landing, the ',AIM releases his chute and pod sum
as life -boat.
EMERGENCY LAMP SHADE
THREE
UOEDAHD WN
STOOL "
EMERGENCY LAMP SHADE
MADE OF PAPER FROM HOT
BULB. ATTACH CORKS 'ID
PAPER CONE WITH PINS.,