.'t E g #3:: ) - . WELL-K N O W N scientist. who really ought to know better. has been looking A a. the future and totting up a M things which he thinks we're rrj.‘ badly on for. Greatly simplified clothing. not strange in appearance. 5‘ A new game of skill. ‘ . .\ method of conveying ,i mum-h to paper. direct and rmulahle. ' til)’ tame. isn't it? iliv, i could make out a list - 1. would skin his to death v, it comes to supplying the f‘ ‘ . 1.1x greatest needs. = i rv- goes: viir'u is one of 'cm. .‘ri.:l;m a few years hence rub- .u- some such sound-reducing '.illFI‘ will he so perfected and .;. that it will be possible to all strvets and highways i! 1. it engines; pneumatic tires priory on all power-driven rubber roads: quietly mar. trains; noiseless aero- ~ cars that glide along as \v'lvf't. ll too much to hope for? '\:.rl all the knocking. the bang- . and the hammering that go .v. the world! Can't someone vk or :1 silent hammer. a nail ;« rll‘t‘f which can be driven without giving everyone in lellll'llz headache? :|_.. < l .t or sass: non d.— comu. ass. up ‘ the Healers arm W —-O_ WHAT l EXPECT FROM ‘- THE FUTURE duw-lunthcr. too. that makes 1 wulml. \mi sound. rust. and odor-proof‘ us a matter everyone else's radio. sewing—machine. player- luud speaker. jazz band ,i be seen but not heard to out‘ wrs. Wherein the smell of ~-r neighbor's frying fish can't kn away your appetite for your Hwn ll'li-‘ll stew. Wherein that im- . :.,nrihl "it's a mystery where all me dirt and dust come from" is :.»~vcr hoard. And what about another edible animal, fish. fowlnvegetable. and fruit? And some more variations In the what—shall-wc-havo-for- breakfast theme? Another beverage as well? One that has no tannin. oaffein. alco- hol. drugs. or anything that is bad for us. but which nevertheless has all the ambition, the sparkle. the w lva "'l‘t In ‘Y'Hl. min, of course. i refreshment, Ind the soothing qualities. only more so. of certain one-time items on the refreshment and wine lists. And without any of the morn- ing—after gloom. A drugless tonic. too. guaran- teed to give you that "right side of the bed" feeling of a morning. to buck you up and fill you with beans and no deleterious effect on the lining of the tummy. A new profession (1 doctors who will do nothing but listen to their patients' troubles and symp- toms. I havo always felt if I could get a physician to bear patiently- with me while I spin out all the fears l have for my heart. my liver, my brain. my lungs, my arteries. and the bother I have with my bosses. my work. my banking-account. my responsibilities. and all the other drawb cks of an only partly civil- . ised it e he would cure me of my quavers and vapors in no time. it’s sympathy. patience. and good listening that we want so badly. And then. of course. the movies will be so arranged. I hope. that it'll be only a question of pushing a button showing them on the parlor wall. And we shall be able to choose our ,own wireless programmes when we feel we're not equal to the “Kitten on the Keys" or "What to do with the Left-over Cow—heel". And farmers. the dear perennial igrousers, will get all the weather they want. the kind they want. and when they want it. And I only trust someone in- vents something you.can give to children which will automatically make them discard all the bad habits and take on only with the good and polite ones; and there ought to be a certain cure for crowsfeet and graying hair. and tha' tired feeling; and a vaccine for diabolical tempers and the sulks; and there’ll be. I trust. by- laws making it an oflence for women to beat their carpets be- fore 8 A. M.. or for dogs to bark and cats to meow between 8 P. M.‘ and 8 A. M. Well. I think these are enough to be getting along with. Anyway. life ought to be a bit more worth living in if we were endowed with only half of these benefits. .. ‘rs-n‘ Squirrels That Fly. Red Fox. and Helge Ermine. Corrie to the Fore of Feminine Fashion's Stage. LYING squirrel has come into F an important place as a trim- ming fur—both for frocks and coats of cloth and as collars . .uul cuffs for wraps of other peltry. I -L, m.- dressmakers are mg in considerable quantity Mr decoration of frocks. Red fox tilll smart; one of the most 'iiiructive ideas thus far offered for autumn is the black velvet ruwn trimmed with red fox col- iur. cuffs and bandings. Mink “nut French a- - . ......._..._._..- a-“ .. , nu . , , vs. .1 "_ ‘1. Wand/«s. a.” .- .51. .3 ' 1i” : J ‘ .. . ..-..........I:.,...., K. . a.eav.- . a... .a-o. . a '- ‘om 1‘“ v.3: “-1 rs M-... a 53?: ' Bludofhfmhmlr cumrmWi-ud Hnrt' and sstrakhan are other fursi ,has also fan a place as a trim- ming fur andyablo is certainly not in the discar . Ordinary squirrel. as well as the flying variety. makes a good trimming fur and has been used effectively in one instance to form ten bands around a circlfir skirt—slightly tilted up at the left side. The sleeves show Ive bands of the squirrel going round about the flaring lower half. There seems to be just two prevalent sorts of fur-trimmed slee‘ves on frocks and wraps-— sleeves.that gradually flare from a tight shoulder to a wide cuff trimmed with a wide band of fur. or sleeves that are song from shoulder to wrist, in which case the fur is applied as a wide deep cud of almost muff-like propor- tions. Occasionally there is a frock with short sleeves .anding above the elbow edged with a wide band of fur. The for trim- med frock almost always has a wide band of fur around the ham or around the edge of a long tunic. Occasionally both skirt and tunic are edged with the fur and sometimes only the front of the tonic is for trimmed. carrying out the idea of Lbs ‘seasfn to condae trimmis to a ran . . Coat fgocks and other frocks do- be worn outdoors with- show fur collars. some- times high and Th“. standing ri ht up around e ears. so‘metimas flat and following the lines ogdad‘ltioteauo.‘ am 3.” y with a fur col- lar of white fox. Afternoon and ti. I" 0'.- th narrow “sometimes an effort is made i. r as nearly matching the worm“ the fabric from which the frock is made as possible. Black for on black fabric. plati- num on gray and red tea and mink on reddish brown the rule followed in the of son. pacemakers. But this use of.: SHORTSTOR, Something To Live For By ANTHONY REMERT. derision. use. by no steam Newspaper swam matter with him? He can't die happy till he'- read his obituary notice in the pom" "Poor Dad. he's troubled over his "Vanity!" thought the docto‘r. but said nothing. “That's a thing no man can do.” he remarked pres- ently. ' Old Cyrus Ramp lay dying. Cyrus was a millionaire. and the most no- torious miser in Wall Street. Also renowned for his shrewd. merciless strokes. Many a. suicide lay to his discredit. Cyrus was a man who would have taken up a widow's mortgage and then cut her throat into the bargain. Nobody could be expected to be sorry that old (firms was passing out at eighty-five. The old man had oimply been growing weaker day after day. And now this extraor- dinary crass possessed him. ”It's on his mind.” said the daugh- “WHAT do you think's the ter. "He can't die easily until he's seen it. Couldn't—couldn’t some- thin be done. Uncle Fred?“ ‘ at sort of thing. my dear?" “Why—couldn't we print one copy of a paper or something. giving him a column of' eulogistic. glowing biography. It’p his sins that are troubling him." This was not very daughterl)‘. but then Cyrus was Cyrus. "It isn’t his sins, it's the fear of being unfavorably commented on after his death." thought Uncle Prod. "W’ell. my dear, it. might 'be done. but it's going to cost an ever- lasting sum of money to fake an entire issue of a newspaper." he answered. , "But we ought to do it for father's sake." said Mildred. "You have a printing plant. Uncle Bed; that's what I was thinking of. You could print a fake copy of the paper.” "I'll see what can be done." Uncle Fred replied. It was all arranged that night. d Uncle Fred put all his hands to rig faking a newspaper. It was a fairly good fake. and likely enough to pass muster with Cyrus. And the next morning the doctor. the daugh- ter. and Uncle I-‘red brought it into the room. "We’ve worked it. father." said Mildred. "Doctor Johnson gave out a report of your death to the press hurry up and get well. because it will have to be contradicted today." "Hurrumph!" granted the old miser. “Lift me up in bed and lemme read it.“_' They placed the newspaper in‘his hands. adjusted the light. put on bio spectacles. and left him. Cyrus read slowly and painfully. it certainly was a eulogy. Not a word about the old miner's peculiar- ities. Not a word about his heart- lesh speculations in the Street. "Our esteemed fellow citizen," Cyrus read. “passed away painlessly in his sleep late yesterday after- noon. The end. while not unex- pected. will come as a profound shock to the community in which Mr. Hamp’s labors were expanded over a period of more than a. gen- eration. "Mr. Ramp was a well—known: figure in “'all Street and at his country place on Long Island. He was quite a. character-in h way. Beneath an exterior rugge and austere makeup he had the simpl. heart of a child.” “Hurrumph!” said Cyrus Hump. "His deeds of benevolence. though always done under the mask of secrecy. were an open secret. The smiles on children's faces rippled into happy laughter as be ap- proached to put them on the head. Many a man and women alive today can testify to Cyrus Hamp's good- ness. to his simple. unobtrusive vir- tues both as a citizen and a man.” “Hurrumph!” said Cyrus Hump. "The community will be the worse off for the passing of such a man. There are few eyes that will not be dimmer today when they read of the death of this great. outstanding figure of finance." "Hur-rr-rr-rump!" yelled Cyrus Hamp. lettin the paper fall. And so lougly did he yl‘ll that Mll- dred, the doctor. and Uncle Fred. who had been waiting outside, rushed in. "Oh. father. what's the matter?" "That—that notice! " Cyrus gasped. "Me—me who skinned ‘em alive and hung their scalps up in my vine- yard! Me. the scourge of widders and orphans! Me. who's got more suicides to his credit than .any bloodsucker in the land. Me! To write that notice of me! The fel- low that wrote that drool's got to be hounded to his grave, and I'm yesterday evening. But you must going to live to do it!" lN YouR GARDEN NOW next year's garden. There are gardeners who think that sum- mer is the time. when you can see the mistakes you have made this year and plan to avoid them next _year. There are gardeners -who think the spring is the time—when we dig around the sprouting peren- nials. when we put in seeds for " annuals. when we prune and snip unruly growth into shape. And there are those who think the . winter the time—when we sit in front of the tire. listening to the wind and snow outside. and by the light of the lamp go through the flower and seed catalogues. making our choices for the next year. Well. they are all right. for every season is the time to make a garden. But—this is the time. too. This is an off-season in the nil-den. This year‘s garden is about done for next year's garden isn't yet in view. In October and November we can clear away the debris of this year; we can put in bulbs for next year. But there isn't much to do now. Not much. But we can plan. THIS is really the time to make Apd it is a good time to plan. To begin with. take careful note now of the shade situation. Is there too much shade in one corner. not enough in another? You can't tell this in the spring. Unleafed shrubs never can be visualized as shade giving. And trees that are only a lacework of thin twigs against the sky never can be conceived of as a canopy overhead. So, if you have too much shade. plan to transplant some of the shrubs before another summer. It is often even advisable to plan to cut down a tree. Trees are precious. to be sure. but many of us have gone through life in a too-shade house because we hesitated to cut down one of our trees. One thing to do is this: If you do feel com- pelled for the sake of more sun to cut down a tree. plant a. little one some place else where shade is needed. If there is too little shade. plan next year to have shrubs where they will give a little shade. and put in a tree where eventually it will give much shade. All this can be advantageously done Just at this time. i . ministmmsii w. I l TH E REAL REWARD I think a role is well content. Content to be a rose, Delights the eye; and gives its scent. Lives on. and never knows— ‘ Finds not its Joy in fortune. fame. In pnises it m‘ay win, In field or forest blooms the same. And finds its Joy within. The beauty of the human soul. The beauty worth the while, Has never fortune for its goal Nor gives for gold its mile. ,Though men may praise us for our worth. a not for praise we live. An help the race, and serve the earth; ”Its not for gifts we give. Though none may crown us lady. lord. And none may seem to love. The beauteous soul will have rem That none can rob us of. For every rose in beauty clad I think a joy has known-— The rooe's heart has always had The sweetness of its own. BEEN BACK HON E. Been back home. back among us. old friends. Been back home. where the old friends are. Say what you will. they’re the good- u-gold friends. 0 . Good friends still when you wan- ' der far. Some are rich. and some of them are poor folkl. So it is. you will often find. - Don't care which. they all of them are your folks. The auto old friends of the some old kind. " There was Jay, boy I want to schod with; There was John that I used it know; There was Jim. used to figt and fool with. . Romp and run in the long I85. Been back home. and ev‘ry biasing ember Burns as bright as it used to be: Thank the Lord. my friends i still remember, Thank the Lord they all remem- ber me. You may know a lot of better known folks. May win wealth or a wreath of ' fame. ‘ Say what you will. there's Ito-on. like your own folks. ~ No one also who is Just the gang Come back home. Mdely you may wander, Fix your heart on some Joy afar: You will find that it isn't over yonder. But right back home where tho home folks are. stone. beuovedto andwcslthat HE tapas is today'staiigmanig To exert itsfullpower ltmuothoootingfllltil itswsarsrpower .130 title pso- himfromthsenvyotm so... . The Turning Tide yF.A. ' mm are changed with the man who over night finds that he must breast the tide of misfortune. The dial that marks the progress of years. smiles no more upon him in friendliness. ' - The old by-paths of pleasure where he was accustomed to roam at will are blocked by barriers. Doors that were always wide open are shut and padlocked. The whole world begins to wear a dif- ferent aspect and the road lies long'and straight and hard to the end of life. Every day the tide is turning In some one's career, sweeping those caught in its currents from their lofty places. or carrying others to a new existence among fertile fields and unmeasured abundance. The lame and im- potent pay tho sharpest penalties; the strong and fortunate rush in where angels fear to tread. And the witnesses round about. have thousands of eyes and tongues. all busy as the proverbial bee, and like the bee ever ready to stings . To prepare for the turning tide ought to be every man’s chief pur- pose. especialiy the man who af- thing to Think About gance. . WALK“; fects pride and imagines himself secure from the storms that break in the night and fill the morning with horror. The pride and pomp of yester- day can not withstand the stress of such violence. “Yesterday?" There are millions of humans who today would gladly give all their substance if they could step back into yesterday's dawn and retrieve what they lost at the turn of the tide only twenty-four hours ago! But gifts and pleadings and wishes are of no avail. If you are not an apostle of laxity you will make preparations for the turning tide while yet it is today. You will not risk being overwhelmed in the acne and lush of the ebbing waters as were your indiderent intimates. You will hold yourself in readi- ness and play the an. There will be no more yie ding to arro- dishonor. envy and base capitulatlon. You will set your house in order and keep honor bright while today is yours. And should the tide in your affairs turn. there will then be no veil of misconception to hide your eyes from the smiling face of Hope! a- “ Crystal and Rhinestone Emblaacn New Evening Gowns. HERE may be nothing very T subtle about the appeal of crystal beads and rhine- stones: if not. then we are neither subtle nor artistic. For we all—the best of us and the worst of us—follow suit in wearing crystal beads and rhine- stones on our evening gowns if we can afford them. There is no longer any question whether the beaded evening gown will return or continue. It has returned and it is continuing and doubtless will continue throughout the winter. Nothing has been devised that ap- peals to smart women so strongly. Usually of course the heavily beaded gown means a straight scant gown. It is the chemise type of frock that is most effec- tively beaded. Only very occa- sionally do the dressmakcrs at- tempt producing a beaded gown of the bouffant or circular type. \«. . . l ‘~‘1,0-‘-Oil_,. I. as o A -.~ I o ~. i-eu'ovw. prevents their being used often with lavishness. Often the mass of the embroidery is done with the crystal beads. only the outline being accentuated with rhine— stones. Some one has said that the fat woman was always the friend of the bonded gown. Certainly the beaded gown is th fat woman's best friend. It pro ces the effect of straight lines where straight lines don't exist. 50 until the golden age of perfectly slender figures comes there will be a hankering after the beaded frock on the part of a number of women. What nearly sang a death knell to .the beaded frock was. of course. its over popularity. Every one wore beaded frocks and they wore them everywhere. Your husband‘s stenographer went to work in beaded georgette and the girl in the store who sold her the beaded georgette also wore a beaded frock. The cook on her day of! wore a bonded frock—your sixteen-year-old daughter wore one and so did your own grand- mother. They were sold in the best shops and in the worst. The world was fairly strewn with beads that had missed their moor- ings. They were swept in pro— fusion out of churches on Monday mornings—as well as out of hotel ball rooms. The beaded frock worn indis- criminately has not returned, but the beaded evening frock—especi- ally the crystal or silver beaded evening gown—has returned with enthusiastic reception. ;:_: THE HOUSEHOLD Edit“ by was mm Ill/Ilml/I’IWIMIM MI W THE SALAD COURSE. ' HE custom is pretty well estab- l lished in this country now to serve the so-called salad an a separate course. following the roast or other meat before the dessert. It would be rather difficult to give an adequate short definition of what we mean by a salad. and the word has gone through a series of chang- ing meanings. The foundation of our salad is usually lettuce or some similar green served raw. However. wdth shredded or chopped cabbage or chopped celery the lettuce may be dispensed with. In planning a dinner mum at homo or in ordering dinner at a restaurant bear in mind that cer- . can iii"; i l l i. ii ii i E i i if E i l i l .3
Norwalk Chronicler