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The Seaforth News, 1956-06-28, Page 6FWK:E71—S- lioult I -*:au clot, "Dear Anne Hirst: What goes On with parents, anyhow? I love mhie dearly, they've al- ways given me everything I Want, until now. I'ni 17, and they have tossed out the only boy I love because of the hours we've been keeping, and lots of other complaints they've thought up. They have decided another man will make me a better hus- band, and they told my sweet- heart I'm going to marry him. (I didn't have a chance to ex- plain). That was four weeks no, and now when niy beau passes me on the street he doesn't even stop. I am disgust- ed! "The man they've chosen is a friend of my brother's, but older; I've always liked him, but not as a prospective hus- band . . . I am afraid to dis- obey my parents for fear they will hate me and disown me if 1 refuse. Can you rescue ine from this future they have set their hearts on? JENNIFER." * Most of us are romantic * when we are 17, in love with * one boy or another and plan. • ning a thrilling future when s we marry. You are seeing * yourself, I expect, as a love - e, Iy young heroine imprisoned >n by cruel parents, only to be * freed if you will marry a Easy to Make! tv J., 4c1ULd W y EASY to build your own wooden lawn or patio chairs! You'll have the fun of doing— save money, too! Woodcraft Pattern 520: Simple directions Tor making lawn, porch, or patio chairs. Actual - size paper pattern pieces are in- cluded, with easy - to - follow ;number guide. Send TWENTY-FIVE CENTS fuse postal note for safety, stamps cannot be accepted), for this pattern to Laura Wheeler, 123 Eighteenth St., New Tor- onto, Ont. Print plainly PAT- TERN NUMBER, your NAME :and ADDRESS. Our gift to you — two won- derful patterns for yourself, your home — printed in our Laura Wheeler Needlecraft book for 1956! Dozens of other new designs to order — croch- et. knitting, embroidery, iron - ons, novelties. Send 25e for your copy of this book NOW — with gift patterns printed in it! * man you do not love. 1 am not unsympathetic, but I urge you to calm down. Parents * aren't like that today. Yours * aren't jailers who insist you * marry someone you do not * love, or else. They love you * dearly, and only want to in- * sure your married happiness. * Your father and mother will * not hate you when you re- * fuse. •• Why didn't you .say "no" when the man proposed, and * write your boy friend the * truth? They had their reasons * to forbid you to date him; * for one thing, they could not * rely on him to bring you * home at a proper Maur * (which was partly your fault), * and I am sure they complain- * ed more than once about this * and other objections they had. * If your beau had taken them * -seriously and mended his * ways, this need never have * happened. They were within * their rights; any sensible par- " ents would have done the * sante, * You have built this situa- * then into, a dramatic crisis. * How many romantic novels have you been reading late- * ly? How many silly movies * based on forgotten Victorian {' discipliner • All you have to do is to • say you don't want to marry your brother's friend. It is * as simple as tliat. LOVE IS LATE "Dear Anne Hirst: Just be- fore Christmas,. a man I'd known nearly a year asked me to mar- ry him. I had several qualms, however. and asked him to wait. He grew tired of that, and left town ... Then I knew I loved him . . . "I have tried vainly to be friendly since, •and let him see that I feel differently now; but he is bitter, and besides, he's going with another girl, l'm sure she is not right for hint, and I'ni afraid he will marry her. . "Must I lose him again: Or is there anything I can do? I am 25 • and I take marriage seriously, and now I know where I want it. WISHING.•" 1 am afraid this man does not love you as he ante de- stared, or he would jump at the chance you offer. If I ata • mistaken in this, then he is being spiteful -- and who would marry a man that t could hurt you so? To my 't mind, what has happened is • for the best. * You cannot do more than you have done, so Face the • truth and plan your future differently. I am sorry. Our girls have greater social freedoms than any others in the world. If you do not abuse yours, your parents will trust your judgment. If you are at odds with them, tell Anne Hirst about it; she understands you, and them, and has helped thou- sands of youngsters toward a harmonious family life. Ad- dress her at Box 1, 123 Eight- eenth St., New Toronto, Ont. QUEER EYES The eyes of a whale are set far back and look in opposite directions. They cannot be moved to look straight ahead or behind. If Mr. Heapbigfish wants to see what's on the hori- zon, he must stand up in the water and slowly turn around. DO- T -YOURSELF NUN — Sister Aloysius of Edinburgh, Scotland, skillfully wields a plane as she experiments on a piece of wood gill a woodworking class in London, England. She and .other Sisters Own to do their own work in furnishing their convent. CHOLLY CHARLENE AND HER CHIMP — Opera and concert soprano Charlene Chapman finds it a ticklish situation as her pet monkey, Porfirio, clambers about her neck. The singer's small zoo of pets at her home includes a kinkajou, macaw, cheetah, boxer dog and an ocelot. We Hitch -Hiked To Belle isle On a golden day in August, a c• ding our toes despondently into the sand beach at Seven Islands, Que- bec, and contemplated the harbour - the long, rakish ore boats wailing their turn at the already-occuph•d ore docks.•.a few small fisleutg boats riding at anchor... the tittle pleasure cruisers of the come -lately townspeople in this boom town. We were eompletoly depressed. Our ear ice had left in Bale Cutny eau, the end of the highway along the north azure of tate St. Lawrence River, some 110 miles west. We hall taken the regular ferry to Seven Islands and wore now starting wist- fully toward the Straits of Belle Isle — wondering how in 1111 blue- eyed world we mull 3100sibly got there; 11-e NC a little like the famous mountaineer who, when asked ivhv he wanted to climb 11 eertaiu mnnnl• aim, replied la utter surprise, "Keil, It's there, isn't it Wo felt the sante tray. 1''e want- ed to travel the Cute Nord, that riOottille fringe of Quebec's hubru- dnr that borders the Gulf of St. ' L::wreu. e. It was there, wasn't it? True. 0 hate freighter e ighte from Quebec made the trip at irr0gnller intervals, timbering fur out in reeky harbours and rutting 00118 ::s short as pits slide. 'That, definitely, was not for us! "Try the goelettes, if you want to see the roast," they had suggested in Quebec City. But, alas, the goal - Mies were under strict regulations that said "no passengers on small coastal freighters," Besides that, Seven Islauels was the turn -about place for most of them. We still yearned — hopelessly — for the Straits of Belle Isle. So we wiggled our toes and stared 'wistfully out past Big Houle, the biggest of the seven islands and a one-time Indian look -out. We sigh- ed, deeply. We'dd never, never make it unless we hitch- hiked — "II itch-h1ked 3" said John t bountifully. "Hilda -]liked!" said 1 00111u8tas- ti0aily. And so we did. We slid — thanks to theelrospit- nble people of the coast who let us ride with 3110111, stay with them — and were delighted that a couple of comttrymen thought it worth while actnally to came down this remote coast because they really. truly, wanted to see it. • Our first boat was the Maris. Stella, our litst benefactor the blue- eyed, cnthnsinstie doctor who was taking a T. 11. clinic down the Cote Nord. "Certainly - come along!" Dr. Binet generously told us. "We're going as far as Alingnn and Havre St. Pierre this tante—tld from there you rim probably mance arrange. meats better 1111111 in Seven Is- lands. We steamed out of Seven Is- lands as sunset stained the sky. .1 long ore boat was just coining In - 10 the harbour to collect its cargo. and 0111' last glimpse of the Ore port w118 of the little pilot boat, lit up like a Christmas tree, chug ging across that perfect harbour to escort it in. We slept to a gentle rocking, and the murmur of water along a ship's side. We woke next morning to an ominoasiy familiar sound. Beeeeeee ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhl" muttered a fog horn outside the porthole. "0h it's always foggy off Pilo• gan," the captain assured us cheer- ily as we climbed on deck into a white cotton Log, but It will clear." He went off whistling. "Lovely day, isn't it?" Inquired the X - ray technican, and he too was wreathed in smiles — and was blissfully fishing over the sideof the becalmed Maris Stella! But the captain was right, and the fog cleared after breakfast. We Steamed out of a -mist-and-sunshine MERRY MENAGERIE "1 feel the Christmas spirit all year 'round!" mixture and up to the big (lock 01 MIngan — 1111 ineougrou.$ly big duck to front an Indian village! Ii -•re bud 110011 a wartime base, and the de 1-, as well as an mScell- ent :lir strip back in the bush, were -the useful peacetime left- overs. It wasn't the dock, however, but the village that interested (1s — and It glimpse of the 1lnntagnais Indians who had been living ahntg this ("n -t. 8100 the time of Cartier. As we strolled along the tents and grey homes, the little church, the tethered dogs and the half -finished canoes, 100 didn't go unobserved. Montaguais ladies, in ankle -length plaid skirts and traditional top- heavy IIonlagnals hats, eyed us — from a distance. When we cauti- ously moved - around to take a picture, they -just as cautiously moved too, so that a tent, a box or a canoe completely foiled us. Whenever we approached an In- dian canoe maker, he either stopped work, assumed a Buddha -like at- titude of contemplation, or fled al- together. Only one small pup seemed unconcerned, "It's you," John finally decided. "They don't know what you are -- man, woman or what in those slacks!" He chuckled, and another Montagnals took flight into a tent, "They've probably never seen any- one in slacks before." "Humph!" I retorted. But, silent- ly, 1 wished at least I hadn't chosen to wear plaid slacks that day! The ship's crew were more help- ful. "Keep wandering around," they advised us. "They'll get used to y011." We wandered around, Up and down, back and forth, with com- plete aimlessness, as if we snot a Montagnais village every day of our lives and were bored by such mon• ,otony. By the time we returned to the Maris Stella, we reported con- siderable success. "How'd you make out?" "Just fine," we said pridefully. "Tliey ignore us!" We liked the 1flontagnais of the Cote Nord. They are a shy, quiet, rather good- looking people, and Canada's most primitive Indians. In Seven Islands, they have bowed to progress, moved into houses and even taken to riding the ore trains to their hunting grounds. But to 11iingan — and farther east at Rom• nine and St. Augustin — they are Tess touched by the white people. They pitch their tents and make their canoes and go, as their an- cestors did, to the ancestral hunt - Ing grounds in the Labrador inter. for. We watched an old moan puttlug the floor boards into his canoe with brown, gnarled fingers, and mar- velled. Each piece of a Montagnais canoe is hand- made, and, so neatly fitted that nails are usedonlyfor tacking the canvas to the gum wales. And, although the canvas today is from "The Bay", the skiL1 is a very, very ancient one. Just once along that coast (NI we :nest 0 elontagnnis than ivho seemed to have adopted the barter system if Indians who live farther west in Canada 1111(1 110011 1111 eye on the tonrlst tralti0.. That tall, lean Indian invited us Into his teat, filled with the fresh• smelling spruce shavings. Pro111 no der a peeking case lie drew his of teidngs of the tourist - hnuliut lu- diens, it was typical. A pair of well made, lightly -beaded 10(11(ul mar voles. But there the resemblance ended.. For these moccuei1is — cross my 1101111! — were lined with mime! Tlie mink- Pined Indian In000051na were behind ns. So were milny miles of the Quebec Cote Nord that day, as WO stood on a high, windy 1ei11- ;top above the English - speaking village of Harrington. Below, in a Lilliputian harbour, WO 1011111 jest see our hest "home", the Orenfctli Ship,Northern 111es- senger, tugging at its anchor. The good doctor on board had been ono of our good Samaritans on this hitch - hiking route along the coast, So had an X-rny clinic on the Maris Stella. So had an affable and 11• together charming Frenchman, crud sing the coast that summer on u government land survey. Now, below us to the left, the little 80 -foot mail boat waited to take us on the final lap of our journey to the Straits of Belle isle. Our arrangements were made With "Uncle Norm" Jones, who promised to take us with hila—along with the mail and a crate full of husky pups bound for Baie St. rant. But the weather for two days had - refused us the co-operation that the coastal people had given us t(o willingly. The south-east wind has becu whooping 811(1 hollering across the super half of St. Latuenee. spitting with rain and ill temper, Looking down on those: sett- wash- ed rocks below ns, we inlew tlds MI5 110 coast to cruise In a storm i Catching our 1008111 against the wind, we remembered the whim sisal description of the origin of this land, related that morning by our North Shore hostess in IIarring• ton. — By Adelaide 1,031)31 In The eanailion "Good morning, doctor," said the young man. "1 just dropped in to tel] you how much I bene- fitted from your treatments." "But you're not a patient of mine," the doctor said. "No. It was my uncle. 11n his heir." oels Ai ON ICLES IN. M ,V Onxr - d olt_r 11 Cta vita At long last the countryside !s looking very green and very beautiful. And there is blossom everywhere—cherry and apple trees, flowering almond and ja- ponica, all in full bloom. This in spite of several anxious nights when frost threatened to black- en flowers, fruit blossoms and vegetables. From present indi- cations lilacs and lilies of the valley should soon be out in bloom, shedding their fragrance into the air. About a monthlate, of course, but better late than never, don't you think? And now that we can get around in the garden without rubber boota isn=t it fun finding out what plants have survived the winter? I was delighted to find pansies in bloom and ever so many seedlings of the Siberian wall- flower one of my readers gave me last year. Also now shoots of iris and a few, perennials. All my geraniums are now outside —but still in their pots—it has been far too wet to set them Out in the garden. But, oh dear, I was really afraid I was going to lose them all. It was that very hot day that I carried all the plants out to the garden. And what happened? You remember, don't you—the temperature sud- denly dropped and we had frost for two nights. I took a chance and did not cover the geraniums. Next morning I was almost afraid to look at them. Finally I plucked up et iirage—and they were all right. Atter cariug for the plants all winter wouldn't it have been awful to lose them in June? Another thing we did an that first hot day las: week was take the furnace pipes down and clean them. At least Partner did. I also thought summer had come and put my oat in storage. Two days later ... well, 1 didn't get my coat 1'ioliie• bet we were only too glad to have the furrace going again. Partner says we shall s000 have to make plans each year for getting in - our "summer" coal supply. Was there ever such a chilly first week in June? However, it is nice weather for housecleaning. Among other things I managed. to get all our windows cleaned last week—at least on the inside. Until then we weie looping at the world "through a glass dark- ly." The outside I couldn't clean as most of 'the windows still have the storms on. Guess we hadn't better take them off yet. Just as well not - to get too rash all at once. Maybe I was even a little premature in getting an oil change in the car the other day. ''Incidentally while that little job was being done the garage lent me a car to come home with. When 1 got into It I wondered if it would fall apart before 1- ,dot home. Then I no- ticed it carried a "safety check" sticker and that the motor seemed to be running well, so 1 felt reassured --which confirms an opinion expressed by some- one a few days ago that safety stickers may build up - a false sense of security. Anyway at the red traffic light the car stalled and I couldn't start it, I fussed around with the ignition, turn- ing it on and off, but nothing happened. A truck drivel'- came to my assistance, pressed the button, and away she went. I had forgotten that some cars have push-button starters! Even my little Morris was automatic. 2'11 be more observant next time I drive a strange car --which isn't likely to be often because,„_„, under ordinary circumstances I refuse to drive any car other than my own. Well, I imagine the first few days of June, 1956, will be re- membered for other things be- sides the cool heather There was at least one hot spot the House of Commons at Ottawa. It, and when, the gas gets, mo- ving one can imagine it might be almost hot enough to warp the pipes. It is to be hoped there are not too many heart at- tacks before the affair is settled. Such terrific projects as there are taking place from time to time. I wonder how many peo- ple saw "The St. Lawrence Sea- way Story" on television? It gave a very clear picture of what is happening, but yet, the overall picture is so immense.— and with such far-reaching re- sults, that it staggers the ima- gination. What a marvellous age we are living in! Don't you late to miss one single detail of all the developments that are in progress, many ,of which are be- yond .fur understanding? We know some folk like to be a big fish in a little puddle but I think it is far more exciting to be a little fish in a great, big puddle. There are exceptions, of • course. For instance, here comes an extra big fish ... our new grandson is just arriving for his first visit to Ginger Farm. Ho doesn't know it, but at the mo- ment he is a very, very big fish, And the rest of us splash around very happily in the little puddle which we have' created around him. Well, there you are. that contradicts ' my previous state- ment, of course—but then, life is full of paradoxes, isn't it? Including the weather. For in- stance—"What is so rare as a day in. June?" I wouldn't know For it's raining again. PORTRAIT OF GENTLENESS — Jc Ann Phillips extends o '�enit:.rt hand as she makes friends with a fawn under watcnrul eyes of its mother. Atlanta news photcgi'apher Guy Hayes made this gentle springtime portrait.