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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1932-06-03, Page 7-4 r r• a► t: 5 2 3 0 8 A 3 9 9 12 18 7 8 16 23 33 47 m. 40 56 05 21 27 32 12 4. Ilk 25 89 53 05 In. 50 55 D4 11 25 40 52 25 10 49 Di 12 2:1 34 1$ tE 3, 1932. RUPTURE SPECIALIST leapture Varieeeele, Varicose Veins, Abdominal' Weakness,Spinal Deforrti. CoI s+ultation free. .Call o • write. J. G. SilVDWT1H1, British Appli; , enceSpecialists, 15 Downie St., Strat- ford, Ont. • 3202-25 LEGAL Phone No. 91 `l JOHN J. HUGGARD 'Barrister, Solicitor, Notary Public. Etc. Beattie Block - - Seaforth, Ont R. 8. HAYS Barrister, Solicitor,' Conveyancer and Notary Public. Solicitor for the Dominion Bank. Office in rear of the Dominion Bank, -Seaforth. Money to loan. BEST & BEST Barristers, Solicitors, Conveyan- cers and Notaries Public, Etc. Office in the Edge Building, opposite The Expositor Office. VETERINARY JOHN : GRIEVE, V.S. Honor •graduate of Ogtario Veterin- ary College. All diseases of domestic animals treated. Calls 'prompt'y at- tended to andlcharges moderate. Vet= erinary Denti" try a specialty. Office and residence on Goderich Street, one door east of Dr. Mackay's office, Sea - 'forth. 'A. R. CAMPBELL, V.S. Graduate of Ontario Veterinary College, University of Toronto. All diseases of domestic animals treated by the most modern principles. Charges reasonable. Day or night calls promptly attended to. Office on Main Street, Hensall, opposite Town Hall. Phone 116. MEDICAL DR. E. J. R. FORSTER Eye, Ear, Nose , and Throat Graduate in Medicine, University of Toronto. Date assistant New York Opthal- mei and Aural Institute, Moorefield's Eye and Golden Square Throat' Hos- pitals, London, Eng. At Commercial Hotel, Seaforth, third Monday in each month, from 11 a.m. to' 3 p.m. 58 Waterloo Street, South, Stratford. Dr. W. C. SPROAT Graduate of Faculty of Medicine, University of Western Ontario, Lon- don. Member of College of Physic- ians and Surgeons of Ontario. Office in Aberhart's Drug Store, Main St , Seaforth. Phone 90. , DR. A. NEWTOi11-BRADY. Graduate Dublin University, Ire- land. Late Extern Assistant. Master Rotunda Hospital for Women and children, Dublin., Office at residence lately occupied by 'Mrs. Parsons. Hours: 9 to 10 a.m., 6 to 7 p.m., Sundays, 1 to 2 p.m. • 2866-26 DR. F. J. BURROWS . - Office and residence Goderich Street, east of the . United Church. Sea - forth. -Phone 46. Coronerfor the County of Huron. DR. C. MACKAY • C. Mackay, honor graduate of Trin- ity University, and.gold medalist of Tr nity Medical College; member of the College of Physicians and Sur- geons of Ontario. DR. H. HUGH ROSS • Graduate of University of Toronto Faculty of Medicine, member of Col- -lege of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario; pass- graduate courses in Chicago Clinical School of • Chicago Royal Ophthalmie Hospital, London, England; University Hospital, Lon- don, England. 'Office-eBack of Do- minion Bank, ‘Seaferth. Phone No. 5. Night calls answered from residence, Victoria Street, Seaforth. DR.' . R. COLLYER Graduate Faculty, of Medicine, Uni- versity of Western Ontario, Member College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario. Post graduate work at New 'York City Hospital and Victoria 'Hos- pital, London: Phone: Hensall, 56. Office, King Street, Hensall.- DR. 'J. A. MUNN Graduate of Northwestern Univers- ity, Chicago, 111. Licentiate Royal College of Dental Surgeons, Toronto. Office over Sills' Hardware, Main St., Seaforth. Phone 151. DR. F. J. BECHELY Graduate Royal College of Dental Surgeons, Toronto. Office over W. R. Smith's Grocery, Main IStree'r,, Sea - forth. Phone: 'Office, 185W; resi- dence, 1$5 J. CONSULTING ENGINEER S. W. Archibald, B.A.Se., (Toronto), O.L.S., Registered Professional En- gineer ` and 'Land Surveyor. Victor Building, 2882 •Dundas Street, Lon- don, Ontario. Telephone : Metcalf: 2801 W. AUCTIONEERS '• OSCAR KLOPP Honor Graduate Carey Jongn' Na- tional ,School for Auctioneering, Chi - sago. Special course taken in Pure Bred Live Stock, Real Estate,. Mer- chandise and Farm Sales. Rates in keeping with prevailing. markets. Sai- , isfaction assured. Write or wire, Oscar Klopp, Zurich, Ont, Phone : 13-93. 2866-52 i //n ATING IN WILDS BY OTTIIVELL BINNS (Continued from at week) 'Helen -did not allow these manifes- tations of suffering to deflect her from her task. She knew that her unskill- ed surgery was bound to gain him severely, and she welcomed the lapses into unconsciousness, since they made her task easier. At last she give a sob et relief and stood up to survey her handiwork. The splicing and the binding looked terribly rough, but she was confident that thefraetnxed ends of bone were in posiion,' and in any case she had done her best. After that she busied herself with building a fire; and after heating wa- ter, washed the wound on Stane's forehead, and carefully examined him for other injuries. There were bruis- es in plenty, but so far as she could discover no broken bones, and when she had satisfied herself on that point she turned to other tasks. Cutting a quantity of young spruce bougas she fashioned them into a bed close beside where he lay and filled all the interstices with springy moss, laying over all a 'blanket. That done, she turned once more to Stane, to find him with eyes wide open, watch- ing,her. "I have set your leg," she said, in a matter-of-fact voice. "I've done •the best I could, though 1 am afraid it is rather a rough -piece of 'work." He raised his head slightly, and glanced down at the .bandaged• limb, then he smiled a trifle wanly. "It has a most , workmanlike look," he said in a faint voice. "Now I want to get you on thi3 bed. I ought to have done so before I set your leg: I had forgotten that there was no one to help me lift you on to it. But perhaps '*e shall be able to manage, though I am -afraid it will be a very painful ordeal for you: Still, 'it must be done - we can't have you lie upon the ground." The ordeal was certainly a painful one, but by no 'means so difficult as the girl jsd anticipated. iMakirig a sling out of the pack ropes, Helen held the injured leg clear of the ground, whilst .Stave, using his arms and his .other leg, managed' to lift himself backward on to his improvis- ed 'ceuch. The strain of the effort tried him severely, and he lay for a long Vele .in Pen exhausted condition, with his eyes closed. This was no more than Helen' had expected, and she did not let the fact trouble her unduly. Work- ing methodically she erected the little tent in such a position that it covered the injured man's bed; and then pre- pared a meal of such things as :their, resources afforded, lacing the coffee she had made with a little brandy. Stave was too „done up to eat, much but( he swallowed a fair quantity of coffee, whilst the girl forced herself to eat, having already realized that the welfare of both of them for the time being depended upon her ,and upon her' strength. When the meal was elided she found his pipe, charg- ed it for hirci, and procured him a light, and with a murmur of thanks, 'Stan began to smoke. From where he lay, through the op- en tent -fly, he could see a portion of - the windfall barrier which had been the cause of the disaster. "I thought I was done ,for," he said as he looked towards the tang- led trunks. "I slipped and plunged right into a sort of crevasse, didn't 1?"i "Yes," answered Helen quietly. was a little time before I could find You. There was a kind of den made by crossed trunks, and you had slip- ped between them into it." "How did you manage to get me otr ?" he asked, his eyes on the am- azing jumble of trunks and branch- es. ' Veli," was the reply, given with a little laugh, "as I told you this morning I am fairly strong. But it Vas a hard task for all that. I had to cut away quite a nemlber of inter- lacing branches, and hoist ''you out of the crevasse with the pack ropes, then slide you down the deadfall as best 1 could. It took me a full hour to 'get you clear of the trees and safely to the ground, eine all the time 1 was oppressed with the thought that you were dead, or 'would, die be- fore I could do' anything to recover you. When I got you to the ground I went through your pack, and found the brandy which I saw you place there this morning. The rest you know." Stane looked at her with eyes that glowed with admiration. "You make it a little thing," he said gratefully, "but I know what it means. You have saved my life, IMiss Yardely." The girl flushed crimson, and then laughed a little to !tide her .embar- rassment. "Oh, as to that -we are quits, Mir. Stane." "Not quite," he said quietly. "What do you mean?" she asked quickly. - . "Well," he answered, speaking slowly and considering • every word, "fl am tied here for some time --for weeks certainly. I can't move and I can't be moved. You—" "I!" she interrupted sharply. e "I shall remain here. I shall nurse you. There is nothing else to be done. I could not go forward a mile in this wilderness .of trees without being lost; and I certainly couldn't find my way back to the river -even if I wanted to," "But your uncle and friends. They Will be looking for you; they will think you are lost?" 'There's no help for that," she answered resolutely. "You will be able to do nothing -for yourself. As you said just now. There is simply 'frothing else for it. You were at my service When I needed you, and I am at your • service now that you need me. I think that is all that need be said." "Perhaps some wandering Indian. may show' up," he said meditatively. ii "Then-+--" "I shall refuse to leave you before you are well," replied Helen with a little laugh. "You are my patient Mir. Stane-the very first I have had the chance of practising on; and you don't suppose I am going to surren- der the privilege that fate has given me? No! If.n y uncle himself show- ed up at this moment, I should re- fuse to leave you until I saw how my 'amateur hone -Betting turned out. So there! That is my ultimatum, sir." There was an almost merry note in her +Mice, but there was a note of resolve also; and Stane's gratitude and admiration increased. He look- ed at her" with grateful eyes. Her face was rosy, her eyes were bright withlaughter, though they turned a- way in some confusion as they met his. "You are a very noble-" 'Oh," she interrupted quickly, her face taking a deeper hue. "You do not know me yet. You haven't seen me at my worst. You don't know. how catty I can feel sometimes. Wait until -you do, and then you can deliv- er judgment." She ended with laughter, and rose from her seat as if to leave the tent; seeing which •Stane spoke quickly. "Whatever the worst or best of you may 'be, I am happy to be in your hands!" "Just wait until I have shown my claws," she said over her shoulder, es she passed outside. 'Stane lay quite .still with a very thoughtful look in his eyes. Outside he could hear her moving about, sing- ing softly to herself. He caught a line or two, and his memory instant- ly supplied the rest. "Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither; Here shall we see No enemy, But winter and rough weather." He smiled to himself, and a soft look came into his eyes. The girl was making a jest of a situation that would have appalled multitudes ,.of her over -civilized sisters, and lie marvelled at her courage. The glow in his eyes grew brighter as he star- ed into vacancy. Some day -dream softened the stern lines in his face, and for a few minutes the spell of it held him. Then suddenly he frown- ed and a little harsh laugh broke from his lips:e' "You fool!" he whispered to him- self: "You fool!"• A. moment later the girl entered the tent again. In her hand she car- ried a rather decrepit hussif 'and a hank of strong , linen thread. She held them down for him to see. "I ammaking free with your pos- sessions, Mr. Stane, but there's no help for it. I simplymust repair these rags• of mine." He looked at her and noticed for the first time that her blouse was badly torn. Half of one sleeve was ripped away, arid- there was a long tear through which he caught the gleam of a whi%e shoulder -Her skiet he saw was in no better -ease. She caught his glance and laughed. "I'm a perfect Cinderella! It will take me hours to sew up these rents." "Do you think it is worth while?" he' asked witlh a faint smile. "I'm not much of a tailor myself; and I should look at that job as wasted effort." "But what else can I do?" she de- manded. "I can't get in a taxi and run down to Bond Street on a shop- ping expedition." ."No," he answered slowly, "but you might look in the pack you carried toy -day. There's 'a habit there that is better suited to the woods than the one you have." "Oh!" she cried, her grey eyes a- light with laughter, and a little flush in -her cheeks. "You brought it a- long then?" "I put it in your pack, because I jcnew that two days of trail in the forest would reduce your present cos- tume to shreds." She eyed the hussif distastefully. "I hate sewing," she. said. ."I think I will leave the repairs till morning. There is no immediate hurry that I know of," "Not at all," he answered with a little smile, and divining that his ad- vice would 'be accepted he turned to a fresh subject. "Where are you go- ing to sleep? You might not to have given me they tent." She waved a hand airily. "Out- side. There isn't much room here. Like R.L.S. sleeping out with his donkey, I shall discover a new plea- sure for myself." A -gtrk light leaped in Stane's eyes and a smile came on his wan face. e. "What are you smiling at?" de- manded the girl laughingly. But he did not tell her how his mind had recalled the context of the passage slue had referred to, a passage which declared that to live out of doors with the woman a man loves is of all lives the most •complete and free: His 're- ply was a mere evasion. "I am afraid you will find it an ex- aggerated .pleasure, Miss Yardely.", "Then at will be strictly for one flight only," she said, "To -morrow I shall build a shack of boughs and bark like one I watched an Indian building, down on the Peace River. It will 'be exhilarating to be archi- tect and Wider and tenant all in one! But for to -night it is 'God's green caravanserai' for me, and I hope there won't be any trespassers, wolves or bears and such -like beasts." "There may be mice!" laughed Stene. "Mice!" 'A look of mock -horror came on her faee, "I'm mortally a- fraid of mice!" "And Meeks may pay you a visit." ('The Lord have mercy on me!' Who is 'Meeks?" "Meeko is the red squirrel. He abounds in these woods and his In- dian ndian nafi•iiee means the rnischiefmaker. "I. adore squirrels," laughed Helen. "U.pweeki.'s will, Jbe away just now, so ,;he. won't disturb' you with his screeching." "And' who may Upweekis be?" "The lynx! He will; have gong to the burned lands after the rabbits for the summer -hunting." "Anything else oa the forest visit- ing -list?" asked the girl merrily. "Kookooskoss, the owl, may hail you." 04Pooh! !Who's afraid of owls?" She Iaughed again, and then grew suddenly grave. "But we are talk- ing too -much," she said quickly. "There is a little -too -bright color 'in your facer 3 think you had better try to sleep. I shall be just outside the tent, and if there is anything you need you must call me. Good night,- Mr. Stane. In spite of the fdrest folk, I expect I shall sleep like a top." "Goad night, Miss Yardely." • The girl -event outside, and after sitting for quite a long time looking in the fire, retired tq the couch of spruce 'which she had' prepared for herself, .and almost instantly fell a- sleep. Four hours afterwards she awak- ened suddenly and looked around her. A rosy glow through the trees pro- claimed the dawn. The forest was wonderfully still, and there seemed no reason whatever for the sudden a- wakening. Then a stream of mean- ingless babble came through the can- vas wall of the tent. She sat up in- stantly, • and listened. Plainly, the patient was --delirious, and the sound of' his delirious babble must have broken through her sleep. Three min- utes later she was -inside the tent, her brow puckered with anxiety. , Stane lay there with flushed face and wide-open eyes that, glittered with a feverish light.:' He took abso- lutely no notice of her entrance, and it was clear that for the present he was beyond all recognition of her. She looked at him ,in • dismay. For. the moment he was. quiet, but whilst she still stood wondering what she should do, the delirium broke out a- gain, a mere Nibble of words with- out meaning, some Englisrh, some In- dian, in which she found only two that for her had any significance. One was Gerald Ainley's name, and the other the name of the beautiful Indian girl whom she had seen talk- ing with the sick man down at Fort Malsum-Miskodeed. Her face flushed as she, recognized it, and a little look of resentment came in her eyes. She remembered what Ainley had hinted at about Stane and Miskodeed, and what oth- ers had plainly thought; and as she stood there it seemed almost an of- fence to her that the name should be mentioned to her even in the uncon- sciousness of delirium. Then she gave a havd little laugh at herself, and going outside once more, pres- ently returned with water and with a couple of handkerchiefs taken from the sick man's pack. ' She poured a few drops between his Iips, and then after laving his face .she laid one of the wet hand- kerchiefs on his brow, renewing it. from time .to time in orde% to cool his head. After a little time the babble ceased, the restlessness pass- ed away, and his eyes closed in ,,na- tural slumber. 'Seated on the ground, she still watched him, her face the index of troublesome thoughts; but after a little time she began to nod, her chin dropped to her chest, and she fell into a profound sleep. "Miss Yardely! Miss Yardely!" Stane's voice awakened her two hours and a half later. She looked round in some bewilderment, and as her eyes saw his tired, white face, she started up. • "I am afraid I must have fallen asleep, she began hurriedly. "Have you been watching me all night?" he asked in a -rather weak voice. "No, not all night," she protested. "I awoke outside a little time ago, and heard you talking deliriously. I came in the tent to do what I could, and then seated myself to watch. I mist have been very tired or—" "Please, please, •Miss- Yardely. You must not reproach yourself. I cannot allow it! I blame myself for giving you so much trouble." "How do you feel ?" as'k'e ,, Helen, changing the subject. "Rather groggy," he replied, with a poor attempt at gaiety.. She stretched a hand and took his. The 'palm was moist. "Ah," she said, "you feel weak, no doubt, but the fever has .left you. I will go and attend to the fire and prepare breakfast." • She turned a little abruptly and left the tent, and Stane looked after her with frowning eyes. Something had genie wrong. There was an air of aloofness and austerity about her that had not been there yesterday, and she had spoken in formal terms that had nothing of the cafaraderie (which • had characterized their ac- quaintance until now. Ile could not _understand it; in no way could he account for it; and he lay there puzzling over the matter and listen.-. ing to the sound of her riiovements outside. Never .for a single moment did it enter his mind that the daugh- ter' of civilization was jealous of that daughter of the Wilds whose name he had uttered in the unconsciousness of delirious hours. Nor did it enter the mind of Helen herself. As she recalled' the name she had heard on his lips in the night, whilst she bus- ied herself -with unaccustomed tasks, the feeling of resentment that was strong within her, to her appeared a natural feeling due to a settee of out - raged eonee*tanCes Nihon' x reftlitee had ita origin: all the strangest p'1 deepest of la irnal passleete C1lltAil'?i''FE X A CANee C+Q'MiE.S AND GOES Lying • on his -back, hie head pile lowedon a rolled. up blanket, Hubert (Stan became aware that the sound of the giri,'•s movements had. ceased. He wondered where she had gape to, for it seemed clear to him that. she had left 'the camp, and ..as the time passed without any sound indieating her presence he began to feel alarm- ed. She was unused to the woods, it would be easy for her to lose her- self, and if she did ---+-e • Before the thought waa complete he heard the sound of 'a' 'snapping stick, and knew that she had return- ed. He smiled with relief and waited for her appearance, but a few min- utes passed before she entered the tent, !bearing in her hand a tin cup. He looked at her inquirin 11 '. "What have you there, Miss Yard- ely?" "Balsam," was the reply, ('for the cut upon your head. It is rather a bad one, and balsam is good for heal- ing." "But where did you, get it?" "From I forget how many trees. There are quite a number of them hereabouts." ": didn't know you knew so much of 'wood lore," he said smilingly. '- "I don't," she retorted quickly. `"I am very ignorant of the things that really matter up here. 1 suppose that .balsam would have been the very first thing an Indian girl would have thought of, and would have searched for and applied at once, but I only thought of it this morning. You see, ,ane of my uncle's men had a little accident, and an Indian went out to gather the gum. I happened to see him pricking the blisters on the trees and gathering 'the gum in. a dish, and I inquired why he was doing it. He explained to me and this morning when I saw the .cut' it suddenly came to me that if I could find balsam in the neighborhood it would be .helpful. • And here it is, and now 'with your permission I will ap- ply it." "I wonder..,. I, never thought of it myself," he- answered with a smile. "It is a very healing unguent. Ap- ply, to your heart's content, 2Viiss Ya:'tttely." Deftly, with 'gentle finger;, the girl applied the balsam and then bound the wound • with a strip of linen .torn from, a handkerchief,'When the operation was ' finished,,,. still kneeling beside him, she 'leaned back on her heels to survey the result. "It looks quite professional," she said: "there: isn't an Indian girl in the North could have done it better." "There isn't one who could" have done it half as well," he answered with a laugh. "Are you sure ? "' she asked quick- ly. "Ilow about ,Miskodeed?" "Miskodeed?" Ile looked at her wonderingly. "Yes, that beautiful Indian girl I saw you talking with up at Fort Malsun." Stane laughed easily. "I know no- thing whatever about her capacity as a healer," he said. "I have only ,spoken to 'her on two occasions, and on neither of them did we discuss ,r effi ,14 ai ii►t d{},.f1u 1�M1toq/r�k�rt 441, y ��%,. pyo, ere 9 �.,f2 �lre fi F could not tl!pderata;4'i p•,1ott??? lad: gladness Wand eellef 'lee? he asked'1ln'ggirtn!L were 004 to aasrea, ' 'I was-..a.bpitt .to . say the. f Irl 'R a nonrparative stranger• to youl'r "'Quite ,correct," lie repliask `)' ieuggl'z she 'proved here] €r e> a! o4 'OW negbt I was kidnapped, for F sir. ;lier running' through the bushes toward.' my tent, and s'he cried out to waru rite, just as 1 was strue ' "If elle knew that you 'aware to be attacked •she ought to have waxed yen. before," commented Helen sere erely. • 4/4 74 5 "Perhaps •she had only just made the discovery, or possibly she had not been .able to find an opportunity." "She ought to have made one," was the answer in uncompromising tones. "Any propez'-spirited girl would have done." Stane did not pursue the argument and a moment later his coanpanion asked:. "Do you think her pretty?" ;`That is hardly the_ word for Mis- kodeed," answered Stane. "Pretty' has an ineffective sort of sound, and doesn't describe her quality. She is beautiful with the wild beauty of the wilds. I never saw an Indian girl approaching her before." 'Helen Yardely frowned at the frank enthusiasm with -which he spoke. "`Wild? Yes;" she said disparag- ingly. "That is the word. She is just a savage, with, I suppose, a sav- age's mind. Her beauty is -well, the beauty of the wilds, as you say. It is barbaric. There are other forms of ,beauty that—" She broke off abruptly ' and the blood ran rosily in her face. Stane saw it and smiled. . ' "Yes," he_ answered gaily. • "That is true. And S think that however beautiful Miskodeed may be, ar others like her, their beauty cannot . com- pare with th .t of English women." "You think that?" she cried, and then laughed with sudden gaiety as - she rose to her •feet. "But this is not a debating class, and I've work to do -a house to build, a meal to cook -a hundred tasks appealing -to an amateur. I, must go, Mr. ,Stane, and if you are a wise man you' will sleep." She left the tent immediately, and as he lay there thinking over the conversation, Stane caught the sound of her voice. She was singing a- gain. lila gave a little smile at her Sudden gaiety. Evidently she had recovered from the mood of the early morning, and as he listened to the song his eyes glowed with admira- tion.'She was, he told himself, in unstinted praise, a 'girt' of a thous- and, accepting a rather; desperate sit- uation. with light heart; and facing the difficulties of it with a courage. altogether admirable. She was no helpless bread-and-butter .miss to fall into despair when jerked out of her accustomed groove: Thank Heav- en for that! As" he looked down at his injured leg he shuddered to think what would have been 'the situation if she had been, for he knew that for the time 'being he was complete- ly in her hands; and rejoiced that they were hands so evidently cap- able. • Wes' 11 Then her felt to thinking over . t'h 6' � situation. They would be tied ddeeie .. where they were for some weeps, enll if care was not exercised the pr#lye . lem of food would groyv acute, He ' .; must warn her to ration the. feta and to eke it out. His thought was. in rrupied ty her appeerence •at the tent door. She held in her hand a.. fishing line that he had purchased at'. the Post and a packet of books.' "I go a fishing," she cried gaily. "Wish me luck?" "Good hunting!" he laughed Track. "I hope there is fish in the stream" "'Herds! Flocks! Coveys! Schools! What you like. I saw them when 1 was hunting for the 'balsam." "That is fortunate," he said quiet- ly. ."You know, Miss Yardely, we may have to depend ,on fin and fear.. ther for food. The stores I brought were only meant to last until I could deliver you to your uncle. We shall have to economize." ."I have thpught of that," she said' with a little nod. "I have been care- fully through the provisions. But wel will make them • last, never fear! You don't know what a Diana I am." She smiled again, and withdrew, and an hour later returned .with'a string of fish which she exhibited with pride. "The water is full of them," she said. "Arid I've discovered some- thing. A little way from here the stream empties -46W a small lake which simply swarms with wild fowl. There is no fear of us starving!" "Can you shoot?" he inquired. "I have killed driven grouse in..... Scotland," she answered with a smile. "But I suppose ammunition is valu- able up here, and I'm going to try. • -•. the poacher's way." - "The poacher's way?" "Yes. Snares! ' There is a. roll of copper wire in your pack. I've watch- ed a warrener at home making rabbit snares, and as there's no particular mystery about the art, and those birds are so unsophisticated, I shall be sure to get some. You see if I don't. But first I must build my house. The open sky is all Very' well, but it might come on to rain, and then the roofless caravanserai would not be 'very comfortable. • It is a good thing we brought an axe along." (Continued next week) TAKE MEXICO bp wap of example .. .wirrMrrarrr • TURBULENT Mexico is a hundred years behin&the United +States or Canada in re- spect of the living standards of its people. In Mexico, outside one or two of its major cities, retail stores, regarded as a whole, are primitive in comparison with those in the United States and Canada. Explain as you, may the backwardness of Mexico, you will have to admit that a primary cause is: The people in Mexico don't read advertisements as do''the people in the United States and in Canada. 0. It's the same in respect of Spain, the Balkan countries, China, and the countries of Latin America. Advertisements are not read in these countries because newspapers are fewer, and industry is under- developed; and without newspapers and advertisements no country can rise to high levels;, of culture and comfort and prosperity. In France they have plenty of newspapers, some with immense circulations, but the industrialists of France haven't learned to advertise as .have the industrialists of Canada, the United States and Britain. Result: France, outside the big cities, is a country of peasants. Russia's evolution toward high cul- tural levels would be expedited- if that country had more newspapers with lots of advertisements in them. Japan is a country with fine news- papers and of many advertisers, and look at Japan's- position among the nations. +Say what you .may, think what you may, the fact remains that that coun- try whose people are much adver- tised to advances rapidly ,in civiliza- tion. Advertisers are the great stim- ulators of a nation - greater than editors, statesmen, teachers a n d preachers. So when you pick up newspapers regard the advertisements in thein as being positive forces applied on men and women to push them forward and upward to something, finer and better. The degree of your responsiveness to advertisements is 'an index to the measure of your cultural develop... anent. MAK it your practice to read advertisements—even the advertisements of things and services which you may have no thought of buying or using. Then the breadth of your mind will -be made greater -with much advantage to you -and to those lives i you touch and influence. This Advt, is sponsored by the Canadian Weekly Newspapers Association, of which The Huron Expositor is a Member. +J` de.,,a+-a�iYd6and .s��e„4�r!'��Hd�;�k7d� •,uns�S JY��Jt+,.�i� a,iit! 63, ; yet ti r$ 1'.