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HomeMy WebLinkAboutZurich Herald, 1930-11-13, Page 6Airship .Building Abandoned d In England, Factory is Closed London.--Whate\ er the outcome of. the inquiry into the disaster to the giant airship R. -10i, Britain will not build any more airships for a long time to come. The Howden airship station where the Airships Guarantee Company guilt the R•-100, a visitor to Canada in November, Sir Denniston Burney, head of the company, expiabled the station was .closing because the com- pany had no orders or building and he had no idea when, if ever, it would be re -opened. The R-100 is at present laid up and proposed alterations and enlarge-' inents have been indefinitely post - August, is closing clown at the end of pored. vise some indirect menus of helping her. If only--- And at that moment the plot came. The first two chapters showed a girls' unequal struggle in an overcrowded city. The disapperance —penny by penny—of her pathetically small savings, as she trudged the streets looking for work. Until the black clay when her landlord said "Get out!" Then came the scene he hacl just witnessed. The b I lying man—the proud courage of the girl in the fact of this new blow. Her be- lief, even in that black hour, that her luck would change. At that point the plot entered th realm of fiction. Across the road, overlooking her window, lived tem- porarily a• film producer who was look ing for "life." Tired of studio prMp- pets, he had "disappeared" into Lon- don's millions to discover heart- throbs. The beauty of the girl—her courage in. the face of despair—made him crazy with delight. Here was the us e• star for which he was looking—the. new Greta Garbo. Superb, dignified beauty. The sort that would walk to the guillotine with head held high He raced round, interviewed the girl, and she signed a contract there and then which meant an enol to pinching and scraping. The plot was a winner. Peterson knew instinctively that, with the feel- ing he would put into it, it would be one of the stories of his life. Then he came to earth. How did that hells the girl? For something must be done, and quickly. It wouldn't be fair to make money out of her misfortune and leave her to starve. It wouldn't do to lose the inspiration of that se- date little golden -haired figure. In fact, if he lost her he felt he would never write a story again. Why not send her, anonymously, the money drat he would receive for the story? The idea appealed to him. He had drawn some money from the bank that morning. He .put a sheet of paper in his typewriter and wrote "To repay you." That was all. It might have come from anyone. She would have no qualms about keeping the money if she felt . that someone whom she or even her family had benefited had chosen that method'bf repaying generosity. He placed $50 and the slip of paper in an envelope, and took it round to No. 17 in the next street. The landlady, 'who opened the door, seemed a motherly soul—hardly the sort to throw a lonely girl out. But volt never can tell. • Plot and.. Counter -Plot He Wanted to Help Har—and This Was the Only Way, By Margaret Munro Derek Peterson tore up the fourth sheet of paper and stared moodily out of the window. To -day the idea for which he was groping would not come, and all he had to show for two hours of concentrated thought was the toru fragments in his wastepaper -basket.. it was exasperating, The editor of the "Majestic Magazine" had asked him for a sentimental story. The price would be good. And here he was, looking out from his third floor back room across a vista of Chelsea chim- ney -pots, trying fu vain to get inspira- tion from the smoke. What made it worse was that he was feeling romantic. And the ro- mance had begun at that very window. For exactly opposite—les than fifteen yards away—was another window. And behind that window there lived a girl. He had first noticed her two months before—a slim, golden -haired child, frying sausages over a gas -ring. At twelve o'clock on a weekday morn- ing. There can be only one explana- tion when a business girl living in one back room does such a thing at such an hour—she must be unemployed. That fact had aroused his interest. It seemed so unfair that a slip of agirl like that should have to elbow and push her way through the crowds of other luckless ones in search of a job. He had watched. The following week he saw her again, but the meal was bread and cheese that time. A fortnight later she still pottered round her room when she might have been working if Fortune had been kinder. One morning Peterson sat near to her in. the little restaurant round the corner that sold athree-course lunch for 35c. He saw that her eyes were blue as the skies he wrote about in his :stories. And he .hoped that even that modest meal meant that the tide of ill tuck had changed. But apparent- ly not. She still seemed to live half that day in the little room opposite his window—reading the newspapers, or, more' likely, looking through the advertisement columus in search of a joh. He would have spoken to her, but there was a proud tilt to her chin. that warned him against such a course. If times were hard, that chin seemed to be saying the world shall never know. is Ford in England During his recent visit to England, Henry Ford visited Premier Ramsay MacDonald at 10 Downing St. seen with Alastair MacDonald, prime minister's son, after his interview in London. Peterson felt himself growing red; he began to realize that he was an outsize in fools. Yet it had all seemed so clear. But .she did not spare him. "It was father you saw in my room, He's a real dear, but terribly old- fashioned. He objects to my going on the stage. He objects to my living alone in London—even though Mrs. Prosser, my landlady, is an old cook; of ours. And when. Mrs, Prosser wrote, telling him that I was cooking, my own lunches,. he came up in a towering rage. I had to promise to go home for the week -end to get rid of him." Peterson laughed grimly. • He had made a pretty fool .of himself, and with the one girl who mattered. 'Talk about imagination! "My plot seems to have been a bit out all round," he said at last, not dar- Perhaps because he was a weaver «will you please give this to . of stories, with a vivid imagination, young lady in your third floor back? Derek Peterson found the occupant of It's a message from a friend of hers," the third floor back at No. 17, Nevens he said. Crescent—he had checked the number It was dark when he returned to his of the house by counting the backs room. To -morrow he would write the froth the beginning) of. the road ---0c-. story, and to -night she could sleep cupying more of his thoughts than he' free from immediate worries. It had had ever,given to a girl before. all fitted in very well. ' When he first noticed this he tried He glanced out of tlie•window. Her to forget her, but those two blue eyes room was in darkness. Probably she and the slim figure in the neat cos- was out—celebrating her good for- tune (probably her only one as he tune. He wondered when. and how he had first seen her at close quarters in would` get to know her. the restaurant kept coming between At nine -thirty next morning his him and the paper on which he wrote. landlady informed him that Miss 13a - . He gazed across the backyards trivia Snell wished- to, see him. again. Perhaps there was a ,plbt in • "Send her up," lie said, thinking it that fact. If .he could invent a really was someone with proofs. A minute convincing excuse for calling on her, later she came into the room with a he could weave .a story round it and defiant air and uptilted chin. . solve the burning problem of his life He had guessed she was the spit ,solve and tb.e same time. of girl who always went straight to 1•Ie began to write, hoping that the the point. She was. plot would unfold. But before many • "Yon sent me $50 yesterday after lines had been. set down on paper he noon, Mr.—er—" • lead stopped .and~was staring out of . "Peterson,' he said,, wishing a trap - the window again." For something door • could open and remove ' him was happening in the third floor back bodily from the gaze of those eyes. of 'No. 17, Nevens Crescent. ' "Mr. Peterson, may I ask wliy I'was .The girl had come in, perhaps to chosen as the object of your charity?• cook her lunch. She had lief -hat and I was not aware that you owed me any coat on. With her was a man who money." seemed to tower over her fragile pret- • lIe capitulated' without an effort. tiness like some ogre. 1t was hopeless to do otherwise. And the than was threatening her. "No, Miss Snell,' 'he answered. "But lie was walking up and clown the regain —well, from this reel; I can see your, —two steps in each direction. And room. And after yesterday morning every time he turned he would stop you know what 1 mean—I, badly want - and rave at..her• Petersen could not ed to help you. We neighbors, you hear anything that was said, of course, know. It seemed such hard luck after but he could see his gestures. He saw, all your efforts. And I couldn't think too, the proud, quiet restraint of the of any other ,way of helping you. girl in the face of this attack. That's all. I didn't mean any harm— She stood her guard—she answered really I didn't." . back. Finally, she opened the door, "I suppose not," said Miss Snell. sent the man off, and immediately dis- ger voice was different, softer. Ancl appeared from Peterson's view, with was it imagination that the eyes were the exception of one white hand that looking at him more kindly? "But hung liriblyy just in his line of vision. what do you mean by 'all my efforts'?" From which lie judged she had flung "To get work," Peterson said, un - herself on the beet and was crying, or happily conscious of eavesdropping. past caring, • "You see, during week days there are Par one wild moment lie thought of only the twoof us in the two roads. I lasing round to comfort lien—to tell write. You don't seem to do anything her that he loved her. It was all So at Koine—forgive me, but I cannot eldar. She had come to the end of her help noticing that you are often in r'esourees and had got into debt. The your room over there—so at was obvi- big man who bullied her was a debt ons that you were unemployed. Ancl collector. It mattered nothing to him you really earned that money, because that the girl hadn't a friend in the seeing You 'about inspii:cl me to write valid. • a story. So do -please keep it. I pro - Petersen checked the • impulse In thine not to worry 'you again time: He knewwithout being told that she was too proud to accept the help of a strange fnan. He must de- Coste is Decorated In Legion .of Honor Paris—Dieudonne Coste and Maur- ice Bellonte, home from their trans- Atlantic flying adventure, carne in triumph to Paris November lst where, in spite of bursts of rain, wind and occasional thunderclaps, thousands lined'the streets to shout themselves hoarse in welcome. The fliers went to Elysee Palace, where President Doiunergue, Premier Tardieu arid other members of the Government tendered official greet- ings. The President decorated thein with their recently granted promo- tions in the Legion of Honor. Vast crowds milled about Elysee Palace. ing to look up. "On the contrary, I think your plot was rather sweet and very sym- pathetic,' she answered, placing h$50 on the table. "Arid, as usually hap- pens, the plot that count is the one taken from real life." A soft, white hand stole across his for an instant and;was gone again. "I wanted to find out why you did it," she said, and her voice now was musical and soft. "Now I know I think it was perfectly wonderful of you. So wonderful that I'd like my father to thank Sou—if only to let him see how nicely I'm looked after when I'm alone in London-. Then he won't insist on my leaving the stage ay more." Her father didn't. But Derek did— just six months later. And, strange to relate, Patricia diel not tilt her proud little chin and refuse. On the contrary, she said "If you wish" very sweetly, and kissed him again. Which was was all in the plot.— Answers. Paris—The French Government an- nounced that desiring to associate Colonel. Charles A. Lindbergh, for his epochal trans-Atlantic flight, with the triumphal return of Dieudonne Coste and Maurice Bellonte, .it has promul- gated a decree promoting Lindbergh to the grade of Coinnnander in the Legion of Honor. Nelson Column :Grown Over 14 Feet in 90 Years London—The Nelson column in Tra- falgar Square has "grown" 14 feet 4 inches in. the 90 years it has been erected. This discovery was- made by a steeplejack named Larkin who com- pared its height with the official rec- ords in the office of works. . No official explanation has been forthcoming. Meanwhile the Govern- ment has . ordered scientific measure- ments to be taken to find out what is Wrong with the famous London land- mark., France Holds, Gold In Veritable Fort Paris Has Largest Stock ot Yellow Metal in Europe Paris.—Entrenched in. casements stronger than the Verdun forts, locked up iu a frame of steel, water and rock, lies buried deep in the middle of Parra the gold bullion of France. It is the largest stock of yellow metal in Europe. In the latest weekly report , France's total gold was figured at $1,939,00,000. But almost every day brings to the vaults of the Bauk ot France new barrels loaded with gold, and this total doubtless exceeds $2, 000,000,000. It would be no exaggeration to say' that the Bank of France keeps its • golds in a fortress. Bombs thrown on. Paris from an airplane would never, pass through the armour which pro, tects the cellars, and in case of revolution 1,000 men, soldiers and bank elpl0yes would be in a position to stand an underground Beige of at least a mouth. Every danger which' might threaten the stock of gold has been foreseen and avoided. by the en- gineers n gineers who some years ago built the vaults. They are buried under ninety-six feet of compact rock. Underneath and around them flows the tamed stream of the subterran- ean ubterrau can river of the Grande Batellece, whiph the engineers found on thate spot when they began to dig. deckled to use it as a means of de. fence against possible undermining of the cellars. • The water has been drained in a intricate system of canals that surrounds the waterproof walls. The access to the vaults reminds of the defense organization of a fort. The doors of steel and cement weigh eight tons each,. and a mere twist at a handle is sufficient to block them with an additional weight of twelve tons. There is a turret A and a tur- ret B, a well with a winding staircase and lifts and long corridors built on the principle which had been adopted during the war for the digging o1 trenches. Even if a shell could pene trate through the roof of rock, it would be stopped from exploding on a large surface by the thick steeel walls that form the angles of the passages. Officials of the bank who show the vaults, give the turrets andd`oors the military name of "first and second , lines of defense," If a riot should occur in Paris to- morrow, the Bank of France would be in a position to go immediately on a state of siege and resist any attacks of the rioters for several weeks. In less .than a half-hour all the clerks and managers would be down in the' vaults, where desks and chairs stand ready for them. Sixty airpipes, whose outer ends are 'dispersed and hidden so carefully that it would be unlikely for the besiegers to discover them, would supply fresh air. Electrical heating machines, installed in the cellars and entirely . independent. of the heating apparatus of the upper buildings, would keep the temperature at a pleasant degree. In a half -minute the' dynamos of the vaults would pro- duce enough energy to, supply light, heat and air. Provisions. Received Daily The feeding, of the defenders of the vaults, in case of emergency has been fully provided for;. The, kitchens are ready' to cook at any moment enough food fax at least` 1,000 persons and stocks of piovisions are renewed every day. There are down in the cellars cupboards filled with : plates, dishes, forks, knives and spoons. Huge saucepans and caldrons worked by electrical power await the soup and stew. Not the tiniest detail has been omitted. , Hunting Ducks Give me a gun and some old Marsh, And the whistle of wild ducks'. wings, When the roar of my shotgun wakes the morn And a hunched flying things. The mud hens patter across the pond. And the teal come whizzing in, Aud the greenhead jumps from the grass beyond, And the hunters all begin. With a pop, pop here, and a bang, bang there, The opening season's sign, And the next duck comes from we know not where, - Across the gray skyline. And we judge the speed and the pro- per lead, As only a hunter can. There's honor, too, and a comradeship Among the hunter clan. There's a swapping yarns and a friend- ly tip, And a meeting of man to man. So give lite a gun and some old marsh, And the whistle of wild ducks' wings, When the roar of my shotgun wakes the morn And a hundred flying things. —S. W. Dixon., He Rural Buyers Want Canadian Goods Imported Products Being Re- placed, Department Of- ficial Says Canadian goods are replacing im- ported products in the average town and village store in Ontario as a result of rural residents demanding home grown and manufactured products, G. A. Putnam, of. ills Ontario depart- ment epart ment of agriculture, and advisor and counsellor to the Women's Institutes, stated recently in an interview. "Stocks in country and town stores have taken on a' new aspect," said Mr. Putnam. "The Canadian article is replacing the imported, particular- ly in those sections where there are branches of the Women's Institute. Country„womeu have a downright way of doing things when they pass resolu- tions and they support them with ac- tion. Women's Institutes have passed resolutions commending Canadian pro- ducts to the community and mer-. chants and clerks are learning a lot of things about Canada and her pro - "Merchants are studying geography and brands," continued Mr. Putnam. "They are finding out that their cus- tomers who tell them they prefer Canadian products are not -only senti- mentally patriotic but shrewdly wise. Behind the label is quality and value." • An Old Canadian Industry Canada's eel fishery is an old indus- try. Early explorers made reference to the importance of the eel fishery carried on by the Indians. Bush Blooms Three Times Canon City, Colo.—A snowball bush, blooming for the third time this year, was discovered on the. grounds of the Southern Colorado Power Company. Hen Beats World Record Vancouver—Hen No. 6, a British Columbia White Leghorn, the prop- erty of William Whiting of Port Bells, passed the world's record recently for production when it laid its 353rd egg in as many days. • This' hen ,comes from the famous University of British Columbia stock, and was bred by Whiting. plant _here. Even a second bloom- ing 'of a snowball hush is considered Many a true word is spoken when unusual by horticulturists. two women quarrel. Russia's Big Guns Seeing that you are a writer," she long -rouge guns on one 'of Red pus,ia's mza c o33'ot Was', even timing recent manoeuvres, ty "it.is:'str ain#;e it neves' actress." xAecl to t;ra�t.t might be an actress." � Hattie,which is Said to_ be causing feotiit; t,f u.ie7,oiiles3 throughout Europe. .Canadian Newsprint Output, Nearly Twice That of U.S. 'Oanadian production of newsprint in 1029 totalled) 2,129,000 'tons;, or near-) ly twice the amount p>octuce.d by tha the Dominion's nearest competitor, the', United States.